#@ me pls i will comment gleefully

[pawified]

blade honkai x stepsister!f!reader. nsfw — mdni. incest ( stepcest ) ﾉ explicit language ﾉ voyeurism (?) ﾉ foot jobs ( kinda ) ﾉ teasing. — this content isn’t for evryone nd if it isn’t for u pls kindly ignore or block ! / / (๑ᵔ⤙ᵔ๑)

woke up thinking about incest with blade again . . ( when am i not )

your whole family is in the living room watching tv and spending time together, since both parents travel alot for work leaving you and your brother to be home alone.

your mother is in the kitchen preparing snacks for you all, while blade’s father is sitting on the opposite couch from you nd blade.

you have your legs layed across blades lap while you’re laying down stretching your neck to look at the tv. blade makes a comment about the assuming uncomfortable position you are currently in ”why must you always sit like that.” he says annoyed.

usually you would snap back with something but you briefly look away from the tv to look at your brother, you give him a mischievous smile, lifting up your foot and putting it in his face.

he smacks it away with a scowl, “what the hell is wrong with you.” you giggle. dropping your leg back into it’s previous position back into his lap and returning to watch the show you were engrossed in.

your mother returns to the living room with the tray of snacks she prepared, putting them on the table and taking a seat next too your father. “okay! i’m ready, what movie do you guys want to watch” your mother gleefully ask’s, excited to just spend time with each other.

“hm, its all up too you mommy” you think for a moment, then decided your mother should opt for the choice of movie. your mother agrees, picking a random action movie.

“rennie” you whisper all to sweetly, hoping your brother will fill the request you have for him. “what.” already irritated before you could ask him whatever is that you have in your brain. “ can you pleaseee go get me a blanket?, im cold.” you beg. he looks at you for a moment, his face is blank. “i will even share with you!” you say with a smile. blade lets out a deep sigh before pushing your legs off of him and then standing up to go get your blanket.

after a quick trip to the downstairs closet blade returns with your blanket, he plop’s it down on top of you which results you to let out a “oof.” he sits back down and you lay your legs back on him then distributing the blanket between both of you, making sure he is covered as well, as your legs.

an hour goes by and you grew tired of the movie, you look over to see if your parents are still awake. your father and mother are both asleep. “renniee.” you say in a sing song voice. you are met with no reply, blade still watching the movie. “ i know you aren’t watching this. you’re just ignoring me.” you state matter factly. he say’s nothing.

“fine.” irritated at the fact that he is ignoring you, you decided to annoy him. looking back over at your parents too make sure they are still sleep, you turn back to your older brother, “ okay..well since you want to ignore me, i’m sure you wouldn’t mind me doing this.” you teasingly say, as you bend your knee alittle and rub your foot against his cock.

blade jumps alittle at the sudden friction against his dick. “what the fuck are u doing?” he grits out, holding your foot in place against him. you play dumb to his question “what are u talking about rennie?” blade knows, you know exactly what he is talking about, but he still  loosens his hold on your foot.

“knock it off.” he says before he goes right back to watching the movie. you wait a few before going right back to your antics, you put more pressure into the friction your applying against his length, you hear blade let out a shaky breath as the bulge in his pants got bigger. you giggle too yourself.

you sit up a little, now with your back  against the arm of the couch, you bend your other knee and use both feet to rub his hardening cock, you stare at him studying the way he reacts.

He is trying so hard to ignore the movement against him, but he is falling apart. he breathing is getting heavier and his eyes keep fluttering.

“rennie, look at me.” you demand. blade trys his hardest not to look at you, so you push front of your feet deeper. “fuck.” blade tilts his head back and groans.

“shh, wouldn’t want to wake up mommy and daddy, right?” he shakes his head, unable to respond in fear of being too loud or worse letting out a moan.

blade knows he should stop this whole thing. that’s what he would do if he wasn’t a sick preverted fuck, who liked fucking his sister when their parents went away for work, but he that is a sick pervert.

“look at me.” you say in almost a gentle whisper, with blades head against the back of the couch he turns his head looks at you, his eyes are low and his face is flushed with a light hue of pink.

he almost cums in a instant, you’re biting your lip and looking at him with big doe eyes. it’s all too innocent, especially for what you’re currently doing to him.

you push the blanket off of you, with it still covering blades lap. you remove your legs from his lap, his cock is strained against his pants forming a tent in his pants, with your knees now bent at your chest you lift up off the couch a bit and take your sleep short off reviling your cotton pink underwear.

still staring at blade, with him watching your every move. you look over at the couch your parents are seated in still in a deep sleep. then going back to your lwed actions, you spread your legs just enough for blade to see a wet patch on your underwear, “look rennie, look what happened.” you whisper blinking so sweetly at him.

blade reaches over to feel the wet patch on your clothed cunt, he runs his fingers up and down and then massages your clit through your underwear. you let out small whimpers, your hands fly up and over your mouth to act as somewhat of a shield to muffle your pleased.

“so cute, and wet.” your not really sure if he is talking to you, but you’re pretty sure he isn’t because he says this as he is still looking down at your cunt.

he sits up and slides you down the couch a bit so your fully laying on your back now with your legs to your chest, he looks at you like he wants consume you in all always possible, “such a filthy little thing, you are.” now over top of you, he leans down and wishpers in your ear, followed up but slapping your clothed cunt.

you try to push him away, but he scolds you “tsk , tsk. you’re the one that started this and now when i have you like a bitch in submission, you wanna act like you can’t take it?” he is mean with his words, cruel more like it. you shake your head , denying his claims. “i-i can take it! we can’t do it here, mom and dad are right there” you whisper frantically.

you try to be reasonable or try to talk sense into him, but it was no use. once blade has his mind made up there was no being reasonable with him, he is a stubborn man.

“yet your the one who wanted to be one who touched your brother inappropriately while they are sleeping.” blades softly caresses your face, he says it with a smile.

“ you had your fun. now let me have mine.” he pats your cheek, standing up he picks you up and carries you off to his room.

#˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ #໒ 𝑤𝑒𝑛’𝑠 𝑏𝑎𝑏𝑏𝑙𝑒𝑠 ১ #𝑏𝑙𝑎𝑑𝑒 ℎ𝑜𝑛𝑘𝑎𝑖 — ♡ ᵎ #blade honkai #blade x reader #tw:incest #tw stepcest #honkai star rail #blade honkai x female reader #blade is v mean #STEPCEST IS TAKIN OVR MI BRAIN

[cozage]

OMG HIII I LOVE YOUR WRITINGGG this is gonna be my first request ever (literally having a nervous breakdown) but I wanted to request a fem reader who is the bio daughter of whitebeard and comes back after 2 years of shinobi training to meet the new crew member Fire fist ace! and can you pls make it a short fic (I cannot fathom the words of how obsessed I am with this man IFDFJDKDGJK) (also can she have a DF that's associated with lava? pls and thank you *literally bowing*)

A/N: God this was so adorable to write. I'm so obsessed with this fun little story. Literally once I started writing I couldn't stop. thank u 

Characters: female reader, Ace, Marco, Whitebeard & Crew

Cw: alcohol, drunk reader

Total word count: 2.3k

Part 2 | Table of Contents | Read on A03

The Daughter’s Return Chapter 1: The Promised Position

The vivre card in your hand continued to move forward, but you could see the familiar outline of the Moby Dick ahead of you, and you grinned at the sight of being so close to your family again. You had been training for two years, and you couldn’t wait to catch up with your friends and your father after being apart for so long.

Your small boat looked even tinier as the giant ship loomed closer to you, but you weren’t concerned. Blue flames shot into the sky from the blue ship, and you sent out a stream of lava into the air in return. It was your code to the first division commander and friend, proof that you were who they were expecting. 

You saw a creature with blue flamed wings shoot into the sky, and you gathered up your things. You only had a small backpack and a few bags of food, so there wasn’t much to pack up. You said goodbye to your small raft, thanking it for its usefulness during your journey.

Marco landed on your boat, and you squealed in delight seeing your brother again. He wrapped you up in a hug and spun you around, laughing gleefully at your return. 

“Pops is going to be thrilled to see you,” he said, sitting you down. He ruffled your hair affectionately, smiling at you. “Missed you, kid.”

“Missed you too, Marco,” you said, grinning at him. You picked up a bag, handing it off to him to carry back to the ship. 

“You’ve grown!” he commented. “I can’t look down at you anymore.”

You gave him a cheeky grin. “I’m stronger too.” 

“You better be!” He laughed. “Pops didn’t smuggle you into Wano for you to come back the same!”

“Maybe he’ll finally make me commander now.” You stared up at the ship, thinking of the goal you’d been working towards since the beginning of your training. 

“About that…” Marco trailed off, and you shot him a suspicious look. 

“What?”

He sighed, deciding to prepare you. “Pop’s filled the second division commander seat, actually.”

“What?” you hissed. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

“With who?” you demanded. You refused to believe him. “I thought nobody wanted it.”

“It’s a new guy.”

“A new guy?” you scoffed. “You’re pulling my leg, Marco. It’s not funny.”

Marco looked nervous talking about it. “Let’s go see Pops, alright? He’ll explain.” 

You scowled, and your stomach clenched in anticipation. “Yeah, let’s go. I have some words to say to him.”

Marco wrapped his arms around your torso and extended his phoenix wings. “I’m glad to see you’re still a hothead.” You could hear the teasing in your voice, but you weren’t in the mood for jokes anymore. 

“Shinobi training can’t fix everything,” you grumbled. You could feel your skin getting warm, a sign you were letting your emotions get to you. 

You heard a lot of low whispers and mumbling, but you paid the new recruits no mind as you stormed across Moby Dick. Your father wasn’t on the deck, so you continued on to the command room. 

“DAD!” you screamed, and you could see some of the newer members slink away from you in fear. A part of you felt some pride to have such an impact, but you were too pissed to revel in it.

You slammed the command room door open to find your father speaking with another man you didn’t recognize, but you paid the guest no mind. You were too focused on settling the score of the second division commander seat.

Whitebeard smiled at you. “Y/N! You’re-”

“You bastard!” you shrieked. You pulled out a kunai, pointing it at your old man. “You promised!”

The unknown man threw a knife and knocked the kunai out of your hand, and you turned to glare at him. He was shirtless and was wearing an obnoxious orange hat, and he was returning your gaze with a look of equal irritation. 

“Stay out of this, newbie,” you hissed at the man. 

You reached into your pouch to grab another kunai, but he lunged at you, grabbing your wrist to stop you.

“I don’t know who you are,” the man said in a low, dangerous voice. “But you have no right attacking Pops the moment you get on our ship.”

“Stay out of my affairs,” you snarled. 

You turned your wrist to lava rocks to burn his hand, but at first the man didn’t react. You frowned, turning up the heat to liquidize your arm into magma, and finally the man pulled away in pain. He looked down at his hand in shock, as if he wasn’t expecting to be burned. You couldn’t blame him. It’s not everyday someone’s skin turns into boiling liquid. 

Whitebeard laughed loud and hearty, breaking the tension between you and the man, and you refocused your anger back to your father. 

“Never a dull moment with you around, kid! It’s great to have you back,” he laughed, and your face flushed with anger. 

“You promised me a commander position when I got back,” you yelled at him. “Who the hell did you give it to instead?”

Whitebeard laughed even harder. “That would be Ace.”

“Who the hell is Ace?” you hissed. 

The shirtless man raised his hand. “Uh-”

“I said stay out of my affairs!” You could feel steam coming off your head. Sometimes that happened when you got too angry.

The man pointed at himself. “Me. I’m Ace.”

You could feel your insides turning hot, lava coursing through your veins. 

“You’re joking,” you said. You glanced at your father, who was still smirking at the two of you. “He’s joking, right?”

You father raised his eyebrows, his gaze darting between the two of you, but he said nothing.

“Portgas D. Ace,” the man said, holding out a hand to you. You rolled your eyes and turned away from him, facing your father. 

“This guy?'' Your voice was full of skepticism. 

“Hey!” Ace yelled from behind you. “Don’t underestimate me!”

“I could squash you like a bug,” you shot back, still refusing to look at him. “Dad-”

“The decision was made with good reason, my girl,” Whitebeard said. “You’ll be working alongside him closely in the second division.”

“No, I won’t,” you laughed, rolling your eyes at his suggestion. 

“Yes, you will.” You could hear the seriousness in your father’s voice, the warning of consequences thick in his tone. 

You decided it was best to not outright defy him, and you switched your tactic from stubborness to logic.

“I’ve always been under Marco,” you reasoned.

“You’ll be better suited in the second division now.” You could feel Ace smirking behind you, and you resisted the urge to turn around and punch his teeth out. 

“Let me get this straight,” you said, trying to keep a level voice. “You give my commander position away and then tell me I have to work under the guy who took it from me?”

Ace laughed. “The second division position has been open for-”

You flicked a volcanic rock back at him, and he yelped in pain. 

“Marco is a fire user like me,” you worked to plead your case further. “And I know him. I would work better under him.”

“The first division is a medical division now,” your father explained. You could see you were testing his patience, but you didn’t care. “Your talents are better served on the offensive front, which Ace leads.”

“But-”

“Plus,” your father added, cutting you off. “Ace is a fire user as well.”

You felt warmth spring up behind you, but you refused to give Ace the satisfaction of being acknowledged.

“Dad-”

“I’m not wavering on this decision,” he said with finality. 

You felt your father’s conqueror’s haki spread out over the ship, and you knew that you had lost the argument. You could hear Ace stumble slightly behind you, and you resisted the urge to argue even further over the man’s weakness. At this point it would only make your father angry, even if you were right. 

“Fine, fine,” you sighed, giving up. There’d be plenty of time to talk with him about the position and prove your worth. “Can we at least have a party?”

Whitebeard’s overwhelming presence disappeared and his jolly laugh returned in an instant, already forgetting your alls squabble. He stood up, wrapping you in a comforting embrace, leading you past Ace and out onto the deck. 

“My daughter has returned home!” he shouted, and the crew cheered. “Prepare a feast!”

--

At least the party life on the Moby Dick hadn’t changed at all. You could still beat just about anyone in a drinking contest, and by halfway through the night, your mind was cloudy from the alcohol. 

You took a step away from the party and the fun to get a moment alone with the stars. You took a drink of the ale in your tankard, staring up at the million lights in the sky and thinking about how different the constellations looked during your time in Wano. You were so close to that country and those people, yet so far. 

“I think we got off on the wrong foot,” a male voice said behind you, startling you from your thoughts. 

You glanced back to find Portgas D. Ace walking towards you, looking up at the night sky. He was attempting to be casual about the whole thing, as if he had randomly found you here, but you could tell that he had most likely searched you out on purpose.

You rolled your eyes and turned away from him. He wasn’t even worth giving the time of day. He hadn’t done anything to prove he was anything special yet.

But Ace obviously wasn’t willing to give up that easily, because he came and stood directly next to you. His eyes were still on the sky, just like yours were. 

“I just feel like since we’re going to be working together, we should probably get to know each other a little better,” he said. 

You thought of plenty of snarky responses, but said none of them. You knew the silent treatment would be the best way to shut him down. Portgas D. Ace was not your friend. You wanted nothing to do with him. 

“Are you happy to be back on the ship?”

Still nothing came out of your mouth. You didn’t even look his way, you simply took another long drink. But you could see him starting to pout. It was only a matter of time before he gave up and returned to the party. You just had to keep your mouth shut. 

“All the guys said you had a pretty smoking ability. But I dunno, I think my fire ability is pretty hot.”

You scoff at that. “I’m hotter,” you shot back. 

Damn him. He could rile you up, and he knew exactly how to. You could see him smirk in the corner of your eye, and you cursed yourself for being so easy to manipulate. 

“That’s what they all said too,” he said quietly, a smile still lingering on his face. 

You turned to look at him, your face full of frustration. “What do you want?” 

He seemed surprised by your question. “What do you mean?”

“Why are you speaking to me?” you demanded. “What do you want?”

“Wh-No-I just-” Ace stammered, trying to find his words. 

You stared at him, your scowl deepening every time he started his sentence over. 

“You’re Whitebeard’s daughter, aren’t you?” he finally asked. 

“Yeah. And?”

“I’ve just heard a lot about you,” he said. 

“And?”

“I dunno,” he said. “You intrigued me.”

You scowled at him. “What the hell does that mean?”

“I dunno!” He let out an exasperated sigh, turning his gaze to the stars. “You were just this larger than life story people always told since I got on this ship. Everyone always had something to say about you. I guess I just wanted to know how much of it was true.”

“All of it is true,” you said.

Ace let out a laugh, and then clamped his hand over his mouth to stop himself. “I really hope not.”

Your eye twitched, and you could feel your skin starting to tingle. “If people are lying about me, they’ll pay for it.”

“Marco talked about you like you were this sweet little kid.”

“Marco’s delusional.”

Ace laughed again, and this time he didn’t stop himself. You found yourself smiling along with him. 

“He definitely sees the best in people,” Ace said.

You shot him a look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You could see Ace tense. “Oh, nothing! I-”

You let out joyous rings of laughter now, and you see Ace give a strained smile, mostly unsure of how to react to your sudden friendliness. 

“You’re funny, Portgas D. Ace.” You go to take another sip of alcohol, just to find your cup empty. You frowned at it, and turned to go find more booze. 

“I’ll get it,” Ace offered, holding out his hand to take your cup. “I’m empty too.”

You nod, handing it off to him. The party was so loud anyway. You preferred the quiet atmosphere this late in the night. He strode away, and you watched him go, your father’s emblem displayed proudly on his back. He still wasn’t anything special, but at least he wasn’t scared of you like half of the crew. 

You hadn’t realized how much alcohol you had drank throughout the night until you were alone, and suddenly the world was spinning. You laid down on the deck to get your bearings, and then found yourself stuck there. 

When Ace came back, he found you sprawled out, staring upwards. 

“You okay?” he asked. He bent down to look at you, his face obscuring part of the sky. 

You giggled. “Your freckles look like stars.”

“You’re drunk.”

“No you’re drunk.”

He chuckled. “Your insults get worse as the night goes on.”

You stuck your tongue out at him, and then patted the deck next to you. “Come lay down.”

He obliged, his head resting next to yours. “What are we looking for?” he questioned. 

“Shhhh!” you hissed, pressing a finger to his mouth. “You’ll scare them away.”

You felt his lips turn upward against your finger, but he was quieter when he spoke. 

“What are we looking for?” he whispered. 

“Shooting stars!” you whispered back. 

“Oh,” Ace whispered. “Of course.”

“Tell me when you find one,” you said quietly. “I’m going to rest my eyes for a minute.”

You’re not sure if he ever found one. You were asleep before he responded.

#im a sucker for stargazing SUE. ME!!!! #one piece #one piece imagine #one piece scenario #one piece x reader #one piece x you #portgas d ace #portgas ace x reader #portgas d ace x reader #portgas d ace x y/n #portgas d ace x you #ace x reader #ace x y/n #cozage #the daughters return #✧˚ace✧˚

[lovelybarnes]

pumpkin spice- b. barnes

pairings: bucky barnes x reader, carrot oc warnings: dog the carrot the dog, a little chaotic reader about: this prompt that if i tell you itll spoil it but just think autumn shenanigans with carrot the dog and bucky and reader

it’s autumn. indubitably, doubtlessly, joyfully autumn.

the orange is comforting, pinpricking at greens until it’s chased it away entirely. there’s something different to the air—a crispness, a tired edge that blurs like an old camera. bucky enjoys it. there’s a sharp bite to the breeze that tousles dark hair and kisses his nose with poison lips, but when he takes a breath, it feels as if it reaches the very depths of his lungs.

he’s unsurprised to find you outside when he spots the house, your figure peeking out behind the structure. the house is beautiful; he can’t help but notice each time he sees it. it’s thanks to him, mainly, who protested when you threw yourself on the tiled floors and declared the new house perfect as it was.

you’d helpfully observed as he planted flowers in the backyard and patted his sweaty head when he placed down a pathway to the door, insisting he didn’t have to but contradicting it when you hummed happily at his finished work.

it’s your insistence that makes the sight of you surprising. you’re dressed in something dark and comfortable, the little peeks of you he’s gifted with marvelous. your movements are a little rushed, faraway voice rising and falling with excitement as you chatter with someone he can’t see.

you’re raking, albeit a little poorly with your speed, collecting the leaves you’d commented excitedly on earlier in the week. he had offered to clean then, but you’d waved him off and dropped a kiss on his cheek in thanks, donning your backyard the epitome of autumn.

something blurs by your feet, barking and jumping in tandem with your movements. you’re talking to your dog, he realizes, catching carrot’s name in an excited shriek when she throws herself at you and you stumble back. 

you’re gleefully unaffected, rushing to collect the leaves and leaving half of them because of it.

he doesn’t bother going in through the front door, painted a muted blue thanks to your only request, pushing the gates to the backyard open.

carrot hears him as he locks it, sprinting toward him to push him back as he did you.

you don’t seem to notice, preoccupied with your task and a sweet little song you sing poorly. he pokes his head from behind a wall, watching you kick a green leaf away from yourself, your tune struggling when you miss. he loves you, he thinks.

“what’cha doing?” he asks, breaking your trance.

you don’t even flinch, head swiveling at the sound of his voice, a grin wider than its ancestor plastering itself on your face. “you’re home!” you cheer, dumping the rake to head toward him.

you’re warm when you meet him, although not unpleasantly so. your summer nose meets the cold skin of his neck and he can’t help but hug you closer, dotting a kiss along your hairline.

“what’re you doing?” he asks again. it’s kind, tinged with something like faint confusion as he lifts his head to observe the yard. you haven’t been doing a very good job cleaning.

“raking.” you grin, a little maniacal. “it’s—”

“you didn’t have to do that,” he muses. “why didn’t you ask me? i’ll be done in ten minutes without breakin’ a sweat.” carefully, he eyes the grass. “‘nd it’ll be a good job, too.”

“are you saying i didn’t do a good job?” you accuse. there’s something different in your voice, not negative but certainly betrayed in all your dramatics.

“how long have you been at it?”

“two minutes,” you lie proudly. 

“all day?” he asks in surprise, looking right through you. “sweetheart,” he starts, incredulous and swallowed by a laugh.

“you don’t—”

“here.” he guides you over to a lawn chair and sits you down, brushing his lips over your heated forehead. “i’ll finish.” he bends down to lift the rake, getting to work when he stands.

“i wanted to do something,” you explain.

bucky doesn’t understand. “you do plenty.”

“i know that, i mean that i had a goal.”

“a goal?” he repeats, catching your eyes as he clears a patch of grass. “like puttin’ these things in a bag and throwing them out?”

“no,” you argue. “like… doing something nice for someone i love.”

bucky loves you, he thinks.

“i want it on the record that you stole my rake unwarranted.”

“sure. how was your day?” he asks.

“tiring. i was outside raking all day,” you complain.

bucky laughs.

“how was yours? how’d it go with that secret errand you won’t tell me about?”

“it’s a secret.”

“oh my god, are you getting me a puppy?”

bucky isn’t shaken, looking up to send you a wink. “it’s a secret.”

you glare at him. “you’re messing up my pile.” you're referring to the pile of leaves, of course. “i had a nice pile and now it’s all flat.”

“because there were so many leaves and no more up to go.”

“carrot’s going to be upset,” you say now.

“is she?” he hums, pushing the pile closer together to make it higher. “will she be happy now?”

you stand and step over to examine it, patting it gently a few times before nodding. “she’ll be so excited. i think this is the biggest pile yet.”

bucky frowns. “what?”

“carrot!” you bellow, clapping. carrot lazily lifts her head to look at you, tail already slapping gently against the floor. “let’s do pumpkin spice!” you instruct, pairing it with a strange movement of your fingers, and he assumes it’s some command when carrot jumps to her paws and sprints toward you, ears flapping in the air as you bounce on your feet and bucky stands horrified, watching his dog race into his newly formed pile.

you squeal when she jumps in, leaves exploding around you and mimicking what he’d seen when bucky came in.

your voice is saccharine as you praise carrot, spotting her snout peeking out from beneath orange and dotted green. “this has to be the best fuckin’ day of your life, carrot. jumping into leaves all day? fuck, it has to be, my love.” she takes in the affection greedily, tail wagging so hard it makes more leaves flutter to the previously clean grass.

“doing something nice for carrot,” bucky realizes.

“and you! i got like fifty videos and she looks adorable,” you combat, too genuine for it to be anything but sugary.

“this is what you were doing all day?” bucky ruminates, watching as you throw yourself into the leaves as well, fingers running through carrot’s hair as she leaps onto your chest.

you nod, smoothing the fur of her ear. “but you’re right, it took me much longer each time than it did you.” you pull a hand away from carrot to grasp his fingers, tugging him lightly. “y’wanna do it again?”

bucky snorts, gaze dragging on the delightful crinkles stretching from the corners of your eye, smile so wide it must be painful to keep your cheeks so high. you pull his hand to your lips and kiss his fingers. he wonders briefly if there is even a choice. he loves you, he thinks.

“give me ten minutes.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine fluff #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes fanfiction fluff #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic fluff #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes ff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader fluffy #bucky barnes x reader fake dating #bucky barnes fluffy imagine #bucky barnes fluffy fanfic #bucky barnes fluff fic #bucky barnes fluff imagine #bucky barnes fic fluff #fluffy bucky barnes

[paarthursass]

general 1, 3, 6, 8, 10 / Story 7, 12, 15 / Romance 1, 3, 6, 11 for Aurel :3

You don't have to answer all of them, sorry I'm sending so many xD

companion!tav au asks

asdkfjds oh no pls u do not see the google doc i have rn that is filled to the BRIM with companion!au aurel stuff. this is feeding me.

also this ask made me realize that the numbers on that post reset why tf did they do that. when i hit publish they were at 1-40 i swear 😔 anyways.

Where can your Tav be recruited?  Are they first encountered on the Nautiloid, or in the Nautiloid crash region?  Or are they not recruitable until a later act?

Aurel can be recruited in the Nautiloid Crash Region, just outside of the Blighted Village.  He is found conversing with a pair of goblins, who are gleefully telling him details about their camp.  When the Player Character approaches, the tadpole connects them, revealing that Aurel is lying to the goblins for information.  The PC can either choose to play along with Aurel’s charade, or immediately attack the goblins - upon which Aurel will drop the act and aid the PC.  He will share what he’s learned, and will ask to travel with the PC so they can discover the cure to the infection together.

Does your Tav have any comments or advice when you recruit other companions?

"Shadowheart? Is that...really her name? Shadowheart? ...she's got a flair for the dramatic, I'll give her that much."

"Be careful. If holding a knife to your throat was his opening offer, I worry to think what else Astarion will try. At least you don't have to worry about him being too subtle to spot; man's about as charming as a scorpion."

“Lae’zel seems quite knowledgeable about these tadpoles.  Her bedside manner leaves something to be desired, though.”

“Gale seems pleasant, if a little over-eager. Something about him reminds me of a puppy begging for approval.”

“So, ‘the Blade of Frontiers.’ I’d be careful.  In my experience, monster hunters tend to have a limited view of the world.”

“I almost wasn’t sure Wyll would stay his blade.  I’m glad he did, Karlach seems like an absolute darling.”

“Oh, Halsin’s going to be joining us on our excursions now?  And here I thought he’d spend the rest of our little adventure sitting at camp looking pretty.”

“The High Harper herself.  I was just a boy when she faced Sarevok, but tales of her adventures reached me later on, like ripples in a pond. She’ll be a valuable asset.”

“Jaheira’s stronger than me. If my oldest and closest friends were so easily fooled by a charlatan wearing my face, you would never hear the end of it. Still, I'm sure if he's aimed in the right direction, Minsc's...enthusiasm could be useful.”

I wasn't originally going to write comments about Minthara, because Aurel won't stay in the party if the tieflings are killed, BUT since there are mods out there to recruit her anyways, for funsies...

"Are you absolutely insane? She's a drow matron, and one stupid enough to fall for this Absolute nonsense to boot! She was ready to slaughter those tieflings on a whim!"

She knows more than any of us. We need her.

"I've trusted your judgement this far...but I'll be keeping far, far away from her. I know what she sees what she looks at me, and I know what matrons expect of the males they think they command. I won't be her toy. And if she tries anything, I won't be as merciful to her as you were."

Do they have any secrets that can be revealed?  What are the prerequisites for this secret coming to light?

Oh ho ho DOES HE

So, Aurel is a dhampir, which is not something he will be upfront about upon first meeting the PC. There's a few hints regarding it: Aurel is noticeably wary of monster hunters, and approves of the PC or Astarion killing Gandrel. Auntie Ethel also has some personalized vicious mockeries where she calls him "a freak of nature" and says "It'll be easy enough to kill you, dearie, you've got one foot in death's door already!"

Aurel can reveal he is a dhampir to the PC based on varying prerequisites: if they get his approval to 'Good' or if  they have recruited Karlach, whichever comes first.  After the confrontation with Mizora, if the PC did not kill Karlach, Aurel will approach them and say he was moved by their compassion for someone that others were "so quick to write off as a monster." 

It is also possible for Aurel’s dhampirism to be revealed before this.  In a fight, if Aurel is brought to 0 HP, a cutscene will trigger where he bites his opponent and regains HP (this will not trigger if the opponent is undead. Instead, the next instance where Aurel is brought to 0 HP by a living creature will trigger this cutscene).  After the fight, another cutscene will trigger where the PC can confront him about what happened, and Aurel will come clean.

After the reveal, the PC can ask Aurel more specific questions about his vampiric parent.  They can also ask him about feeding - which he assures the PC is done exclusively on animals.  His bite ability will become available in combat.  The PC can also offer to let Aurel feed on them, but Aurel will become uncomfortable and politely decline.  “That’s a bit - ah - intimate, isn’t it?” if the PC points out that Aurel will feed on people they’re fighting, he will retort with “Well, yes, but I don’t have to be careful with them.  The point there is to cause some damage, isn’t it?  There’s a difference between ripping out an enemy’s throat, and a friend baring theirs willingly to you.  It’s just…it’s a bit much.”

What do they say when the Player Character asks them to stay in camp?  How about when the Player Character asks them to come adventuring again?

I need you to stay in camp for a while.

"Are you certain? I know I have quite the delicate features, but I assure you I can more than handle what's out there."

I'm certain. I'll call for you if I need you.

"I suppose I shall languish here until you return for me, then. Safe travels, my dear."

Are there any unique NPCs associated with your Tav that can show up during the course of the game?

So, if Aurel were a companion, I think his primary quest would involve discovering that the monster hunting guild involved in his boyfriend's death were not fully eradicated by him and his father. For juiciness, the leader of the guild is probably still alive and well, and is specifically hunting down Aurel as payback for nearly wiping out his guild a century earlier. Aurel's personal quest would largely involve finding healing and catharsis for Philo's death.

However....I do also really, really want Aurel's father to show up. I think that would be so so fun.

The PC can ask Aurel about his father almost immediately after discovering he's a dhampir, and ask about whether his father can help them. Aurel will reveal that his father is extremely far away, and he's doubtful that he could get word to him in time for him to do anything, but he'll try anyhow if the PC wants.

If Aurel was convinced to contact his father, Dragomir will appear in Act 3. In the Undercity when approaching the Temple of Bhaal, a group of Bhaal Cultists will ambush the group but will swiftly be killed by Dragomir, who appears out of the shadows. If Aurel is in the group, he and Dragomir will joyfully reunite. If Aurel is not in the active party, Dragomir will instead address the PC, recognizing them from Aurel's description. If Aurel was captured by Orin, the PC can tell Dragomir what happened, and he will insist on accompanying the group to free his son.

Dragomir will not become a full-fledged companion, but will wait at camp after the fight with Orin (provided it's the Elfsong Tavern. if the party camps in an outdoor space, Dragomir will only appear at camp at night). If the group has not faced Cazador yet, Dragomir can be convinced to aid in the fight against him, and will also be an ally in the final fight against the Nethebrain.

What can they be found doing at the tiefling/goblin party?

Aurel is in the midst of the revelry, playing a song on his violin. He stops to chat with the PC, and will mention that though he's been to his fair share of balls and soirees, this merry-making with the tieflings outshines all of them. If the PC doesn't try and romance Aurel, he may tease them about the other party members looking at them.

"I can't help but notice that our dear Wyll is off by his lonesome...why don't you try and cheer him up, darling? You seem to be the only thing that can, nowadays."

"I've seen puppies begging for treats that looked less pitiful than Gale does when he looks at you...not that I mean that in a bad way. He does look so pretty when he begs. Why don't you go and put him out of his misery, hm? Figuratively speaking, of course."

"Ugh, Astarion's looking our way again. He thinks he's being so sneaky - I'm not trying to steal his seconds. No offense, darling, you are much more than a meal. To me, anyways. Still, you'd better go and see what he wants. He looks like he's had a bit to drink, and if he comes over here to start an altercation with me I will not be held responsible for what happens."

"I think Karlach might combust if you don't go over and speak to her soon. That woman's been through torment enough; it would be unseemly to keep her waiting much longer."

"I do enjoy a bit of danger, but I think if you waste too much more time talking to me, Lae'zel might just rip my head off. Go and speak to her before she decides to throw you over her shoulder in front of the whole party. Unless you're into that sort of thing. No judgement."

"If I'm not mistaken, Shadowheart seems to be nursing a wine bottle meant for two all by her lonesome...why don't you go and help her out with that."

He will then say:

"Now if you don't mind, I plan on seeing how how many times I can tease Rolan about his staff handling before he gets the hint. Don't wait up for me."

Is it possible for your Tav to be kidnapped and replaced by Orin?  How is Orin's deception revealed?  How do they react to the PC rescuing them in the Temple of Bhaal?

Aurel is a damsel at heart, so yes it is absolutely possible for him to be kidnapped by Orin. I love the #drama.

After Gortash reveals someone in camp has been replaced, Aurel will approach the PC and suggest they kill Gortash and take his Netherstone immediately. Though the argument will begin in Aurel's usual cadence, it will gradually grow more and more manic, culminating in Aurel wanting to "sink [his] fangs into that peacock's throat and drink and drink and drink until he's as empty as his words." Orin will drop the deception immediately afterwards.

Once rescued, Aurel will be shaken but relieved, but will be attempting to cover up his fear with his usual brand of cattiness.

"Thank you so much for the timely rescue, my dear. Can you imagine if I died in a place as horrible as this? In Baldur's Gate's sewers? No offense to Wyll, his city may be lovely, but its bowels are considerably less so. But...thank you. I won't forget this."

If Dragomir is in the party when Aurel is rescued, Aurel will instead immediately hug Dragomir as he reunites with him, and will then thank the PC for the rescue.

How do they react when the Dark Urge first reveals their amnesia and murderous thoughts to them?

(if the PC hasn't discovered Aurel is a dhampir yet)

"Really? I wonder..." he stops and squints at the PC for a moment before shaking his head. "No...perhaps it's the tadpole? We're all a bit on edge, I know. And you've been pushing yourself so hard, you deserve some rest, darling."

(if the PC has discovered Aurel is a dhampir)

"Well, I'm no stranger to the occasional bouts of bloodlust, but it sounds like you mean something else entirely...perhaps it's the tadpole? We're all a bit on edge, I know. And you've been pushing yourself so hard, you deserve some rest, darling."

Is your Tav a romanceable character?  Are there any specific requirements to romancing them?

Aurel is a romanceable character, though he’s only available to male or nonbinary Tavs.  He may teasingly return a female PC’s flirtation, but if she tries to push an actual relationship he will gently turn her down.

Aurel probably has two branching romance paths; a more casual, fling-type relationship, and a more serious, slow-burn one.

Aurel has a great deal of trauma regarding romantic relationships; his first love was killed in front of him, and he's been incapable of holding down a long-term relationship ever since. If the PC attempts a more casual, fling-type relationship, Aurel will inevitably panic as it develops and will try to end it before it gets too serious. It would be possible to salvage the relationship here and reassure Aurel, but it would have to stop being a fling and would have to turn into an actual relationship.

The slow-burn romance arc is, as the title suggests, much slower. It would involve returning Aurel's flirtations, but never taking the relationship past that. The PC would have to tell him that they want more than just a casual fling with him, which would make him very flustered (he's noticeably smoother in the fling-path, as that's what he's most familiar with, but he turns into a flustered, blushing MESS in the slow-burn path). At the end of around Act 2 is when Aurel would tentatively reveal to the PC his trauma regarding Philo, and he would admit that "this is the...slowest I've gone in a relationship, since then. I get into my own head too much, but you...you make me want to be brave."

Are they a polyamorous or a monogamous option?

Aurel is potentially a polyamorous option, though he's a picky one.

Aurel will tease the Player Character if they ask about bringing Halsin into the relationship. “I can hardly blame you for looking - he cuts quite an impressive form. And, well, he’d be a fool to not desire you.” He still is unsure about polyamory, but if the Player Character mentions that Halsin wants him as well, he’ll become flustered and will “need a moment to think on it.” After another long rest, Aurel will approach the Player Character and say that after “giving it some thought” he’s decided that, even though he’s never attempted a polyamorous relationship, he’s willing to try, and he trusts Halsin enough to let the PC try with him. Aurel does add a firm caveat though that he expects the PC to ask him first before bringing in any other additional people. "You know me, I don't do well with surprises."

Which is to say, unless the PC passes a persuasion check, Aurel will disapprove of the PC having sexual encounters with Haarlep and the Emperor. He will also flat-out break up with the PC if they sleep with Mizora. (and if he and the PC do break up, idle banter suggests he and Halsin are still seeing each other)

I also want to say that it's possible to romance both him and Astarion at the same time, because I think that is SUCH a funny concept, but I do not know how it would actually be realized. But the PC holding both Astarion and Aurel's hands while they glare at each other behind the PC's back is suuuuch a funny mental image to me. Boyfriend-in-laws.

How do they react to the player character breaking up with them, or choosing another character over them?

As mentioned before, Aurel has been completely incapable of maintaining a stable relationship before the events of the game. He's had many flings over the years, but any time a relationship starts to get serious he panics and finds a way to end things. He has deep-seeded anxieties about relationships, and part of his romance arc would involve helping him resolve these.

So, with that said, he puts up almost no fight if the PC breaks up with him.

"Oh, but I thought...right. Of course. All things come to an end, after all. Well, we had fun, but I'll not stop you from roaming where you need to."

A successful insight check in this moment reveals that Aurel is putting on a facade, but if the PC tries to pry, Aurel will sharply brush them off and end the conversation.

If the PC has activated a romance with another character while romancing Aurel, he will approach them and offer to step aside for the other person's happiness. Again, a successful insight check will reveal Aurel is not as unbothered as he claims to be.

(I have also written what he says for each romance option...the brainrot is strong)

“Wyll’s a good man, almost too good to be true. To be honest I’m not sure who I’m more envious of. But he deserves something nice, as do you.”

“Karlach’s been through literal Hell and back…and when she’s around you, I see that torment lift from her a little.  Her happiness matters more to me than anything, except perhaps yours.” 

“I tease Gale, but he’s a good man. And he deserves to know what true love is like, not whatever that…farce was that Mystra put him through.” 

“Lae’zel is…intense. But I think she’s finally met her match in you, and she almost seems…softer, around you.”

“Sometimes I think Shadowheart is still that scared girl in the woods…but something about you comforts her. I think if I called you her guiding light she’d smack me, but you know what I mean.”

“I know I’ve had my issues with Astarion in the past…and in the present, but even I can see how he seems…different around you.  That infuriating facade of his almost drops when you’re around.  I think if anyone could bring out a genuine emotion in him, it would be you.”

What are Tav’s plans for the future?  Do they propose to the PC, or is marriage not something they’re interested in?

Oh Aurel is SUCH a romantic, and if the PC managed to help him get over his anxieties regarding relationships? Oh he's sticking by them FOREVER. It's even worse if Dragomir shows up. The PC has met his DAD and his dad LIKED THEM.

Anyways. I think one of Aurel's final Act 3 romance scenes is him trying SO HARD to set up a romantic atmosphere to propose but he keeps fucking it up and things keep going wrong and it's SUCH A cringefail moment and he ends up getting SO anxious and exasperated and says something like "of COURSE when I try to propose to the LOVE OF MY LIFE it ALL GOES WRONG" and then he realizes he RUINED the SURPRISE and it becomes a whole thing. Aurel's romance really is just him being an absolute anxious, neurotic mess of a man and the PC either being just as insane as him or trying to calm down the chaos a little. Wyll absolutely calmed the chaos. God bless that man.

#sophie.txt #asks #oc: aurel #bg3 oc #thank you so so much for the ask!!! #i had some of these answers pre-written in my google doc of nonsense but a lot of these i had to think abt #took me almost all day to write bcs i'm Unwell about him <3 #aurel as Not the main character to me is so fun bcs if someone else is in charge that means he doesn't have to pretend to be the sane one #he can be Unwell <3 #love that for him #babygirl is tied with astarion for being most annoying companion who complains all the time

[kunstvogel-archive]

Okay I'm a horrible person but liiiiike

I'm thinking of a JayRoy AU where Roy is captured and sold to like shady scientists experimenting with the metagene like in Young Justice and he's obviously tortured and experimented on and loses his arm (but not because he's cloned cause honestly that shit was weird, like I get why they did it and they played it off well but it's just too weird for me to think of there being three different Roys lmao)

Anyway I'm just thinking now, I wonder what kind of metahuman powers Roy might get if the experiments were successful? I bet it'd be something he'd have a lot of difficulty controlling or tapping into. Or would the experiments fail, because I also kinda like the idea of the non-metahuman DC heroes all biologically missing the metagene, and Roy is left broken and traumatized, likely discarded or brainwashed into compliance as part of whatever group is behind the whole thing?

And of course Jason comes to bust his ass out of there, but either way you cut it really Roy isn't the same person he was before and he's got a long way to recovery, which I'm sure is marked with setbacks like relapsing.

This is a story that needs a lot more plotting than I am mentally capable of at the moment but it is definitely piqueing my interest

#mmm angst #jayroy #jason todd #roy harper #royjay #dc comics #young justice #fr if anyone wants to like plot and write this #@ me pls i will comment gleefully

[ddejavvu]

Tree’s the Charm - Lumberjack!James Potter x Fem!Reader

WC: 1.1K / navi

Summary: Your kids are eager to get the construction of their new treehouse underway, and your husband is eager to make a mess.

Notes: Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! I’d love to hear what you think of this :) Also not me naming this as a pun about my first fic on this account 

"Mason," James chided, one hand reaching behind his back to pry the child off of him, "Y'know you can't mess around when I'm cuttin' stuff."

"But Papa," Mason whined, little legs finally reaching the ground as James lowered his worn sneakers back into the dirt, "I wanna climb the tree!"

"Then climb the tree," You stepped onto the porch, giving your son a stern glance, "But don't use your Papa as a ladder. Just because he's building you one doesn't mean he's a stand-in until it's finished."

The mention of James's current project had Mason bouncing on the balls of his feet, "Papa, how big is the treehouse gonna be?!"

"I dunno, Mace," James was fixedly staring at the wood he sawed, "As big as the tree, I s’pose."

"Yes!" The baby in your arms squirmed at her brother's excited outburst, reaching eagerly for the ground as Mason ran excited laps around the tree. You gently lowered Sophie to the ground, letting her little feet rest in the tall, uncut weeds that invaded your quaint grassy garden, keeping one of your fingers in each of her hands as she toddled around the yard.

“Mama,” You heard Mimi’s soft voice from behind you, her hair falling messily over her eyes much like her father’s did, “‘S the treehouse done yet?”

“Does it look finished to you, pumpkin?” James raised an eyebrow at your middle child, one hand still holding a rung of the ladder while the other held the saw, “I think it’s a bit short.”

Mimi giggled at her father’s words, skipping out through the yard and dodging a puppy that came for her ankles, “When can we build the house?”

“When we can get up there,” James reasoned with her, “I’ve gotta put the ladder up there first! Unless you can fly?”

“I can fly!” Mimi’s three year old brain was whirring, her chin sticking out defiantly as she insisted upon her abilities being recognized, “Papa always says I’m his fairy, ‘n fairies can fly!”

“That’s right,” James grinned, setting the saw safely back on his workbench before beelining for Mimi, carefully avoiding you and the baby with his clunky work boots. He scooped her up, a smile glowing on his face as bright as the sun beating down on all of you, “My little fairy, show me how you fly!”

Mimi squealed gleefully, her arms spread out like fairy wings as James held her up, weaving her through the air. You crouched down, your hands winding around Sophie’s baby belly and pointing up at the two of them.

“Look Sophie,” You crooned, “Sissy’s flyin’!”

Sophie offered nothing but a coo back to you, a tiny, chubby finger pointed at your husband and your child.

“I know! Sissy’s a little fairy,” You pinched Sophie’s cheeks lightly, helping her pluck a stray dandelion from the grass. She wasn’t sure how to blow it, but she was excellent at shaking it around vigorously and spreading the seeds everywhere, the puffs quickly taken by the wind and blown around your yard.

One blew into Mason’s face, landing perfectly on his nose as he came to a stop from the laps he’d been running. He stared at it, eyes crossed comically to try and focus on the fluff attached to his face. James finally put Mimi down, congratulating the pixie on her fabulous flying efforts, reaching down to brush the fuzz off of Mason’s nose.

“Hope y’made a wish, Mace,” James grinned cheekily, “That’s whatcha do with a dandelion.”

“I did,” Mason made his way back over to the tree James had been working on, pointing accusatorily at the saw, “I wished for the treehouse to be finished already!”

James let out an astonished chuckle at his son’s bold nature, striding back over to the tree, “Alright, alright, no more playtime then! I’ll finish the ladder soon. But first,” He plucked the sanded piece of wood off of the table, walking over to you and crushing another stray dandelion beneath his boots as he did so, “Y’wanna paint it, Sophie?”

Sophie giggled excitedly at James’s offer, reaching for the plank with her chubby little hands. He held her upright while you fetched a jar of red paint, uncapping it carefully and mourning the soon-to-be-loss of Sophie’s pretty purple dress.

“Alright baby,” You gushed, letting her dip her hands into the paint, “Go!”

She flapped her hands excitedly at your tone, slapping them onto the plank and smearing crimson paint over the wood. You and James cheered her on, only riling her up more and causing more messy strokes across the rung.

“Good job,” James offered the baby a high-five, only realizing his mistake when a red baby-handprint was splattered onto his palm. He laughed incredulously, not bothering to think twice before he ran a hand across the scruff on his face, subsequently smearing the paint there.

“Oh,” You snorted, quickly lifting the baby and offering her to James who fumbled to take her, “Paint Papa’s face, baby! Yeah,” You gushed, watching her excitedly smack his cheeks with her rouge digits, “Get him!”

“Y/N,” James groaned, a smile on his face revealing his true feelings even if he was trying to conceal them, “Why would you do this to me?”

“You did this to yourself,” You gestured accusatorily to his hand, still stained red from the high-five, “I just made it a little bit worse.”

“Little bit,” James hissed teasingly, setting Sophie down in the grass to roam the yard, “Little bit?!” He lunged for you, his painted hand marking up your white apron, his face rubbing incessantly into yours as he smothered you in kisses, “Does that look like a little bit?!”

You screeched in disapproval, trying to wriggle out of his grip, but he was only egged on further, spinning you in his arms and trapping you against his chest. You knew you must have looked a sight, face smeared in splotchy red paint if the massacre of James’s face was anything to go by. He looked adoringly down at you, a smear of paint on his nose, “Y’still look pretty, y’know? Even if you’ve got paint everywhere.”

You grinned shyly, eyes staring into James’s own warm, brown ones, “Stooop.”

“No! No, I won’t stop,” James teased you, face inches away from your own, “Y’need to know how beautiful you are!” He finally leaned in, closing the gap between you two and pressing a searing kiss to your lips, that tasted only faintly of paint.

You lost yourself in his embrace, the feeling of the grass around your ankles and the sun on your skin disappearing for just a moment as you kissed your husband. Then, all too soon, the two of you were separated by a shrill cry from Mason, the sound bringing an exasperated smile to James’s messy face.

“Ew! Gross, you’re kissing!”

#james potter #james potter x reader #lumberjack!james #lumberjack!james potter #lumberjack!james potter x reader #lumberjack!james x reader #lumberjack au #james potter imagine #james potter drabble #james potter headcanon #james potter dialogue #james potter blurb #james potter fanfiction #james potter fanfic #james potter fic #james potter angst #james potter fluff #james potter oneshot #james potter one-shot #james potter one shot #james potter scenario

[lowchaosenthusiast]

if by some odd miracle you're still doing the one word prompts, could you possibly do emsider + matrimony pls and thx

The cetologists at Dunwall’s Academy of Natural Philosophies have long established that whales mated for life. They would sing long melodies, their vocalizations amplified against the ocean waves, though nobody could yet identify a common theme in their tunes.

Scholars would dissect the songs by each and every note, and destroy their strange beauty down to mathematics. The whalers, uneducated as they were, could tell you exactly what had been sung – eternal vows of love. What else could explain the bloated corpses of once-great beasts washing up ashore when their mate had been bleed for meat and oil?

Emily rubbed against her eyes as she considered the calm afternoon passing outside the windows of her secret room. Maybe that had been why she avoided talking about the topic of being wed with any of her suitors. The Throne did bleed her, slowly, and threatened to devour her with each crisis rolling across the Empire. Would any potential spouse survive her, if she would need to sacrifice herself for the sake of her people?

She sighed, leaning her chin against the palm of her hands. She’d always thought she was destined to marry Wyman, in a grandiose ceremony that would stretch on for months. But, after the coup, both of them had changed too much – Emily had very little desire to escape the Tower for a night of misadventures, and Wyman had no desire to spend their time playing second fiddle to the Imperial duties. Emily could hardly blame them.

The topic of heirs was another issue she did not wish to consider for a second, but her Parliament had stopped being subtle with their comments about the crisis of succession. Her mother had already given birth to her by the time she was 27 – yet Emily had not managed to keep a single person which could father her a child.

Well, she thought, a slow slide etching across her face, that was as far as they were aware. She turned, abandoning the sight of Dunwall in favour of rejoining her companion on the settee.

A couple of years of humanity had been generous to the man that used to seem as still as a corpse. There had been no traces of gaunt cheeks or pale shadows beneath his eyes. The Outsider – title gleefully abandoned in favour of a simpler term – had taken to living well.

Emily suspected it may have been the Tower kitchens that did most of the heavy lifting, though she had hoped her presence in his life might have contributed too.

“I believe we had an agreement to not succumb into solipsism in our time off?” He said, as he lifted his eyes from the tome he had been perusing. Leviathan Hymnals, proclaimed the cover, and Emily was certain that book had been banned several centuries ago for heresy.

“Yes, thou I thought this would only apply to you,” she shot back, flinging herself onto the soft seats. She settled against him, thigh to thigh, digging her nose into his clothed shoulder. She breathed in the scent of rain water and sun-dried seaweed, as she gathered the errant threads of her mind. Soothed, she said, “Do you remember that incident with Lady White in the Month of High Cold when she suggested that the Parliament should start looking into whether Euhorn had any other surviving relatives bar me?”

“Certainly. I was there after all,” he answered. He creased the corner of the page he was on – Emily could barely contain her distress at the gesture – and left the tome aside, opting to pull her in a loose embrace. “It has been some time – I thought the incident had been forgiven and forgotten?”

“Pfph, as if,” Emily said, as she positioned herself against his warm shoulder. “I’ve been informed in confidence by His ExcellencyLord Brisbane that if I am notgoing to either announce a public engagement or a pregnancy in the near future, they would have to resort to seeking out my great-uncles and -aunts.” She could feel his hand tracing patterns against her back, comforting her.

“And that distresses you?”

“A couple of years ago I would’ve gladly thrown the crown to the closest person which could take it, duties be damned. After Delilah…” She trailed off, sinking further into the embrace, leaning completely against his wide torso. “She taught me that the tiniest of wiggle in the line of succession is bound to rapture into war and chaos. I’d rather not have a repeat of the coup.”

She half expected a long soliloquy about some monarch which was lost to Imperial history, about honour and selflessness during times of uncertainty. Instead, he said something else.

“Marry me, then.” It was matter-of-fact, so strange for a topic so sensitive, yet completely in tune with this man wrenched from the Void.

She sputtered, though she could not fathom whether it had been from sheer surprise or something completely different, as she pulled herself from his embrace and met his hazel-green gaze. “Are you serious?”

“Completely,” he said, pulling her back into the warm space of his chest. “I do not see a future where I am not standing next to you. We could be wed by tomorrow morning, if you want to.”

“I doubt the troublemakers at the Parliament would like that. We would need witnesses-”

“Beloved,” he interrupted her, dragging his hand from her shoulder-blades to the crown of her hair, “when leviathans vow each-other eternity, they have no audience to their union. We do not need anyone either.”

“I would rather not hear them whine about the legitimacy of our marriage.”

He pressed his lips against her forehead, and let out a graceless snort. “They will whine nonetheless, as you have chosen to spend your days with – and I shall quote Lord Magnus – a Tyvian snake with no good breeding, instead of someone they can parlay whispers though.”

Emily perked an eyebrow at his words. “When did Lord Magnus say that?”

“Irrelevant in the grand course of this conversation.”

A merry fire crackled, creating dancing shadows across the wall. Their relationship had been one of utmost privacy, known to Corvo alone. Not for any grand reasons such as shame – in the time he’d been back among the living, the man which used to be the Outsider had certainly made a name for himself amongst high society. It was soft, gentle easy – bereft of the pressures of her crown and name. As if they barely mattered.

To somebody that used to be an immortal God, maybe duty was not a delayed execution. Maybe it just was – and it would not be the one to kill her.

She hummed against the fabric of his shirt. “What do leviathans vow to each-other?”

“Whale vocalization is too peculiar to transcribe directly to human concepts,” he began, pausing for a brief moment, as if reliving a long-forgotten memory, “but they speak of affection.”

“Could you vow something similar to me, inside the Gazebo tonight?”

Soft lips pressed against her own, pulling her up from her recline. There had been no possession there, no battle of dominance, but sweet joy in their shared breath.

“I will,” he said, before he dove for a second kiss.

#>1000 words #ask and ye shall receive anon #fanfiction #prompt #emsider #the outsider #emily kaldwin #dishonored #this was actually quite fun to write!

[egcdeath]

first impressions

pairing: soft!ransom drysdale x reader 

summary: [request] “hmm prompts... Ransom introducing you (a total opposite of him) to his family for the first time, or a Thrombey wedding! if you feel like it” i like where your brain is at anon! but why not a little bit of both? ;)

word count: 3.7k

warnings: pretty fluffy, some angst, toxic family dynamics

author’s note: this has been super lightly edited so pls forgive any mistakes <3 click here if you’d like to be added to my taglist & all reblogs are super appreciated!

You felt slightly out of place driving through the neighborhood of your youth in the passenger seat of Ransom’s beloved Beamer. Thinking of how your parents would react to your boyfriend, let alone his lifestyle of excess, made your heart rate increase, and you shuffled a bit in your seat unconsciously as a result of your nerves. As if he were reading your thoughts, Ransom set a steady hand on your knee and gave it a tiny reassuring squeeze before parking in front of the curb ahead of your home. 

Nervously exiting the vehicle, you watched wordlessly as Ransom grabbed your overnight bags from the trunk, and hauled them over his shoulders. Still saying nothing, you reached out and grabbed Ransom’s hand, constricting his circulation as you strolled up to your door, and rang your own doorbell.

When your mother whipped open the door and offered you an excited grin, you finally were able to let out the breath that you weren’t even aware you were holding.

“Goose!” your mother cheered, squeezing the life out of you while you snuck a glance at Ransom who seemed rather amused by the childhood pet name. “And who’s this?” she asked, pulling away from you and looking him up and down.

“I’m Ransom, your daughter’s boyfriend,” he announced with confidence, offering your mom friendly smile, before glancing back over at you and raising his brows the slightest bit. 

“Finally putting a face to the name, then. I’ve heard all about you from this one. Come on in,” she gestured for the two of you to enter. “Y/N can show you to her room, and dinner will be ready in about a half hour,” with that, your mother was off, and you were once again alone with Ransom.

You showed him up to your room, where he set down the bags and flopped down onto your bright pink duvet.

“Goose, huh?” he questioned, rolling on the hyperfeminine twin mattress. 

“Shut up,” you mumbled, before sitting down next to the headboard of the bed.

“Do you think she liked me?” Ransom asked, seemingly out of nowhere. “Did you tell her good things about me?”

“Since when do you care about what other people think of you?” you giggled a bit, and planted your fingers in Ransom’s hair. 

“I care because…” he thought for a moment, calculating just how honest he wanted to be. “I care because this is the longest relationship I’ve been in, and I want my future parents-in-law to like me.”

“We’ve been together for like, a year, Ran. But I applaud your commitment to me,” you massaged his scalp as you spoke, and ignored the butterflies floating throughout your torso at his mention of marriage. 

“Well? Do you think she likes me?” he asked once again. 

“Mmm, I like when you care about things,” you pressed a little peck to his forehead, and hovered a bit over his face. “She said like, 20 words to you, max. But after dinner I’m sure they’ll like you. At least I hope they will.”

Ransom playfully swatted at you. “How comforting. Wait, stay right there,” he reached up and held the hand that was massaging his scalp in place. 

——

By the time dinner came around, you seemed to have switched emotions with your partner, as you were feeling much more relaxed, and Ransom on the other hand, was not.

He kept a hand on your knee under the table in what seemed like a grounding technique, squeezing every now and then while your father plated your meals.

“So, how did you two meet?” your father questioned, sitting down beside your mom.

“We met while we were volunteering at the Humane Society together,” you gushed, glancing over at your partner who was nervously sipping his water, then back at your parents. “He always seemed so pissed in the beginning. I mean, the amount of times I saw him growling obscenities while tugging on harnesses, or playing the most unenthusiastic games of fetch I’d ever seen in my life is astounding,” you laughed softly, and looked over at Ransom once again as if you were cueing him to speak.

“Yeah, I really didn’t like it there at first. Not really a dog guy, but my grandad said it was community service or no allowance, and I was not interested in the latter,” he chuckled awkwardly and received confused expressions from your parents, which granted you an SOS squeeze on the knee. 

“Um, anyway, one day we were closing, and I went into the last cat suite, and there grumpy old Ransom was, cuddling with Garfield, you know, the old cat with the three legs, and it was literally the cutest thing I’d ever seen. Especially ‘cause Garfield is so hard to please,'' you paused to take a bite of the food in front of you. “We started talking more after that, then he asked me out, and of course I said yes. I guess the rest is history.”

“Aw, Goose, that’s so cute!” your mom cooed, but the moment didn’t last too long. 

“What do you do for work, Ransom?” Your dad asked, tilting his beer at the man. 

“I’m currently in between jobs. But, uh, I’ve been doing a lot of volunteer work.” 

Your father nodded wordlessly and paused for a second. “Volunteering get you a Beamer?”

“Dad!” You interrupted in a yelp, “please.” You frowned as you looked between the men. 

“Y/N, it’s fine. It’s a good question, but I got it as a gift a few years back. And, you know, my family’s comfortable.”

Before your father could respond, your mom popped in to save the conversation. “No money talk at the table, please. Tell me more about your relationship,” she gave both of you a sympathetic look. 

——

After that, dinner went on without much of a hitch, and you agreed upon doing the dishes with your mother while your father and boyfriend prepared a little fire outside.

“He seems sweet,” she commented after a long period of silence. 

“I’m glad you think so. He was really worried about you not liking him, and honestly, I was too,” you rinsed the last glass before setting it in your dishwasher.

“I just want you to be careful, okay? When you have that much money, people do strange things, or say things they don’t mean and expect you to just take it. He seems like a good boy, but just don’t let your guard completely down. The last breakup you went through-“

“Stop, I get it,” you sighed softly. 

“This doesn’t mean I don’t like him. I just don’t want to see you that hurt again,” she gave your arm a soft squeeze. “Let’s go stop your dad from catching a murder charge,” she beckoned you to follow her out to the backyard, where your boyfriend and dad were… laughing together? If you weren’t so relieved, it’d almost be off-putting. 

The rest of the night went alarmingly well, Ransom finding a way to bond with both of your parents after an awkward first half of the evening. As the two of you crawled into your tiny bed and spooned while drifting off to sleep, Ransom slurred a tired ‘I think they liked me,’ into your ear. 

From that point on, Ransom’s position within your family only became better. For the first time, he was welcomed into a familial environment that wasn’t more toxic than a Chernobyl cooling tower, and Ransom was loving it. After suggesting to spend that year’s Thanksgiving at your parents’ home, spending the holidays with the L/N family became a frequent occurrence for the two of you. 

Though you occasionally wondered why you were four years into a relationship with the man, and still hadn’t met his family, which to your understanding, was rather large, you had better things to concern yourself with. You understood and respected that Ransom’s relationship with his own family wasn't the best, from the little that he shared with you, but occasionally curiosity often got the best of you.

Yet, things seemed to shift after your engagement. In the midst of dress fittings and cake tastings, Ransom had decided that it was finally time for you to meet the rest of the Thrombey clan, and that there was no better time than Harlan’s book release party, which was being celebrated out in California, at the Thrombey Vineyard.

In your years of relationship, you’d become no stranger to luxury, and the finer things in life, but arriving at the Vineyard put you in awe at just how affluent these people were. Perhaps that’s what happens when you’re one of the great writers of your time, and your offspring go off to become equally “self-made” successes.

You were a bit tired from the three hour difference between Boston and Sonoma Valley, and as soon as you hopped out of the car at the vineyard, you could only think of getting to your room, out of your baggy travel clothes, and to sleep as soon as possible. 

Trailing behind Ransom, you looked around at the vast expanse of crop-filled land around you in astonishment while you walked up the cement path to the mansion, not really noticing the petite woman with curled blonde hair, and an oversized straw hat approaching you. 

“Oh gosh, you must be Y/N!” she said gleefully. “I’m Joni. I’ve seen you all over Ranny’s Insta,” she paused and looked you up and down. “Well, you do look a little different there,” she chuckled.

“That’s great, Joni. Maybe you can Tweet about how exhilarating and life changing this experience has been for you to all your little pyramid scheme friends.”

“You’re always so rude, Hugh,” she sneered.

“I forgot about your chronic victimhood. Goodbye, Joan,” he rolled his eyes, and practically tugged you inside the massive building in front of you, before dragging you up the stairs. You were honestly in a little bit of shock at seeing how nasty Ransom got from just a small interaction.

You set your Louis Vuitton Keepal, and aluminum suitcase down on the granite floor of the bedroom, before flopping down, and spreading your limbs out on the massive memory foam bed that sat in the center of the room, “What was that, Ran?” you questioned as he sprawled out next to you.

“The reason why I didn’t want you to meet them. They’re like sharks, looking for anything that even resembles blood in the water,” he threw an arm around you and yawned. “We can talk about this in the morning, though. Right now, I think that both of us need a shower.”

“Speak for yourself, you stink bug.”

“But what if I get lonely in there?” 

“Fine,” you huffed, moving his arm off of you, and heading off to the en-suite. 

That night, as you stared at the blank wall in a vain attempt to quiet your mind enough to fall asleep, you questioned if coming to meet Ransom’s family was more of a mistake than you initially anticipated.

The next morning felt a bit frantic. You and Ransom woke up a few hours before everyone else, as they’d been in California for a few days now and had adjusted to the time difference, while you two had not. An in-house chef made you two a gourmet buffet of a meal while housekeepers laid out your clothes back in your room, and you were feeling a bit overwhelmed by all of the sudden interferences in your life. Though it was nice to not have to do all of the work, you weren’t sure how you felt about other people doing it for you. 

The majority of your day felt similar to that morning. You quickly realized that Ransom’s fortune was just a small portion of the Thrombey estate, and that his family were essentially a bunch of monsters with money. Throughout the day of horse riding, wine tasting, and wine painting workshops, you couldn’t help but notice how they turned their noses up at you, treating you, and the staff working at the vineyard, like some sort of outsider. 

Your alienation only became more apparent during Harlan’s celebratory dinner, when insults and sneers were tossed at both you and Ransom for being together. 

“Are you trying to get revenge on us, or something?” Richard asked at one point, gesturing to you, and catching you completely off guard, 

“Why would you say something like that?” Ransom asked, trying not to let his offence show as his jaw clenched.

“It’s just not like you to want to settle down, especially with someone like… her,” he spoke about you like you weren’t sitting right there.

“No, I agree,” Walt added. “For once in our lives I agree with you,” he laughed aloud, and a few other folks at the table laughed with him. “Can you believe that after all these years, we’re bonding over Ransom’s little girlfriend?” 

You weren’t even sure how to react, so you laughed awkwardly along with them, and stared blankly at the vast expanse of grape trees behind the row of Thrombey and their friends. What you would give to sprint out into that, and never come back. 

Ransom looked to you in your obvious discomfort, and grabbed your knee, offering it a little reassuring squeeze before he interrupted them. 

“You know what? All of you dickheads can eat shit. Y/N is really the only person who matters to me at this point, and you pricks need to respect that. Hell, you need to respect her.” 

“Look at little Ranny, getting all soft,” Walt chided. 

He ignored the comment and continued on, “And If I don’t start hearing apologies soon, every single one of your wedding invites have a one way ticket to the shredder.”

A silence fell over the table. You were a bit surprised too, since your invites had already gone out, and Harlan was the only Thrombey to receive one.

“...You’re getting married?” Meg asked, breaking the silence. “Why wouldn’t you tell us?” 

“Why do you think?” you muttered, pushing around a few things on your plate before standing up, and pushing your chair away. “Excuse me.”

You knew that by leaving, you were only opening yourself up for more criticism, but you genuinely weren’t sure that you’d be able to take one more second of hostility. You pushed your chair back in, before heading off the patio, into the gigantic home, and up to the room that you’d claimed.

You rolled on top of the bed, and screamed into a feather filled pillow. It wasn’t too long after when tears stung your eyes as you came to the conclusion that these monsters were just a few months away from becoming your in-laws.

You thought you’d heard the most of it after the table, yet a prompt knocking at your door proved otherwise. Letting herself in, you turned to face Ransom’s mother herself, and you just knew that you were in for it.

“Listen, you whore,” Linda began in a sharp, yet quiet tone, “I don’t know what you’re trying to do with my son. Isolate him from us. Try to ‘change him’ like I know you think you’re doing. But just know that at the end of the day, he’ll always pick us. You’ll always be the second choice, especially when Ransom realizes that you barely have a dime to your name, and his bank account starts to runs dry,” she approached you, and pointed an accusatory finger towards you. “You’ll never be anything but a disgusting, sloppy little gold digger. You may be his toy of the week, but at the end of the day, you’re just an afterthought. I suggest that you get out of his life sooner than later. I’m sure Ransom wouldn’t mind, considering we already have your replacement with one foot in the door,” she gestured over to the window facing the back patio, where Ransom was chatting with a brunette woman that appeared to be quite a few years younger than himself.

“You’re cute, Y/N. Really! It’s cute that you’re thinking right now that he would never leave you, cheat on you with some new, younger, hotter piece of ass. Just know that you don’t know Ransom as well as you really think you do. I can promise you, it’ll be much easier to break off an engagement than it’ll be to get a divorce. Especially with that prenup he’s considering dropping on your desk any day.” she tutted as if she cared. “Well, sweetheart, it was great meeting you. I’m glad that these were our first and last words together,” she gave your back a pat before leaving the room, and you looked out the window in shock. 

Shaking as you dig into the pocket of your sundress, you sent Ransom a simple ‘help’ message, before setting your phone aside and trying to pack your belongings in as quick of a manner as possible.

When Ransom opened the door, a steady stream of tears and mascara was staining your face, while you urgently threw things into your suitcase.

“Goose, what happened?” he gasped, hurrying over to your kneeling form, and setting a hand on your shoulder. 

“Why,” you sniffled. “Why would you let her come up here and say all that shit to me!” you croaked, swatting his hand away from you. 

“What?” he watched as you pressed down on the overfilled suitcase and frantically attempted to zip it, to no avail. “Linda said she was gonna come apologize?”

“Telling me that I’ll never be enough for you is just a perfect apology,” you muttered, “I need to go home.”

“God,” he grumbled to himself, “This is exactly why I waited so long for them to meet you. Okay, we can go home then. I’ll buy us tickets right now.”

“This is on you too, Ransom. You didn’t tell them about us, like, at all. You had so much time! You couldn’t give Linda a call and say ‘hey I’ve been seeing this girl’ or even tell Harlan to deliver the message for you?” you hiccuped, but continued. “All of this could’ve been avoided if they had four years to adjust to our relationship. Maybe then they wouldn’t call me a whore and a gold digger every other sentence.”

“I was just trying to protect you from them,” he frowned.

You finally managed to zip up the suitcase, and stood up along with it, “well, you clearly did a great job of that.” 

You dusted off the skirt of your dress, and grabbed your phone. “I’ll let you know when our car gets here,” you huffed before walking into the en-suite and closing the door behind you, just to have a moment for yourself (and make yourself look a bit more put together before you leave.)

A tense car ride, and awkward flight later, you marched straight into the guest bedroom, and cocooned yourself under a copious amount of blankets. You felt like you stayed there for years, only getting out of bed to shower and use the restroom, and living off of the crustless sandwiches and jarred spaghetti your fiancé brought to your door. 

You slept most of the time, and in the moments you weren’t sleeping, you were dwelling on every vicious word thrown at you at the vineyard. Every day, you listened to Ransom apologize through the door, yet every day, you questioned if going through with the wedding was truly the wisest idea. 

A few days into your stay in the guest bedroom, you finally allowed Ransom to stay in the room for more than just dropping off food. He sat down next to you in bed, and cupped your cheek in his hand, rubbing his thumb softly back and forth against the skin. 

“I don’t know how I can make things right for you,” he said softly. “I really did set you up, and I didn’t even mean to. I should’ve made better decisions, but I can’t change four years ago. But I can keep those heinous people away from you. They’ll never have the chance to do, or say anything like that to you again, okay?” his thumb caught on a tear, which he promptly wiped away. “Just… please don’t leave me. The bed feels too empty without you, and it’s just been a few days. I can’t imagine feeling that emptiness for the rest of my life.”

You whimpered and sat up, abruptly embracing the broad man. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let your idiot family make me question the validity of our relationship,” you muttered into his shirt. 

“I promise you you’ll never have to worry about them again. They had their opportunity to make things right, and they missed it.”

-----

Things were more or less smooth sailing after that fiasco. You found your perfect venue, decided on your ideal Honeymoon spot, and finished your seating arrangements with time to spare, and the next thing you knew your wedding day was around the corner. 

It all seemed to happen so fast, one second you were being walked down the aisle, the next, exchanging vows and rings as aisles of your friends and family members cheered for you, Y/N Drysdale.

Your reception also seemed to slip right through your fingers, your first dance, toasts and cake cutting finding itself over almost as soon as it started. You were grateful that you hired a wedding videographer, as the day was so overwhelming, you weren’t quite sure how much of it you’d remember. 

As you drove off to the airport, Ransom set his hand upon your knee one more time. A warm, fuzzy feeling formed in your chest at the all too familiar gesture. You turned your head from the window to your husband, who was grinning back at you, and couldn’t help but to think of how perfect your wedding ended up, though it felt like it sped by quickly. More than anything, you were grateful that you didn’t give up on Ransom despite his interesting family. 

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom thrombey x reader #ransom drysdale #knives out fanfic #ransom drysdale x you #chris evans x reader

[kuroos-babie]

Falling in Love with a Single Mom

Iwaizumi x fem!Reader | Bokuto x fem!Reader | Ushijima x fem!Reader

[ Headcanons/MiniFic ]

Request: Can I please req headcanons for Iwaizumi, Bokuto, and Ushijima falling for a single mom? — anonymous

a/n: this one’s looong but i really enjoyed writing it pLS GIVE ME MORE like anything concerning babies id love that please thank u :’] I HOPE Y’ALL WOULD LIKE THIS ONE :D i’d love to make these a full blown fic if any of yall want that hehe

❀ aside from the hushed chattering of students waiting for the professor to arrive, the college lecture hall was fairly quiet

❀ that was until the high-pitched cries of a baby ripped through the room

“hey pipe it down!”

“who would even bring a baby to a lecture anyway?”

“can’t you just bring it outside jeez you’re interfering the class”

“class hasn’t even started yet”

❀ iwaizumi was the last one to speak, your classmates’ snarky comments annoying him more than the baby’s crying

❀ he saw you walk out the hall, pushing the stroller with your head low, muttering apologies

❀ letting out a sigh, iwa stood up with the intention of following you outside, but not before he shoots your classmates a threatening glare

❀ he finds you not too far from from the lecture hall, bouncing your 5-month old daughter on your hip as her wailing turned to quiet sobs while she laid her head on your chest

“there there, were you just sleepy?”, iwa doesn’t miss the soft but tired smile gracing your face

“uhh do you need some help with that?”, you jumped at his voice, startled

“oh no, we’re fine! thank you though...uhh..?”

“iwaizumi, i’m iwaizumi hajime, i believe we haven’t met before” he extends his hand for you to shake which you curtly did

“y/n! yeah i believe we haven’t”

❀ since that encounter, iwa would always sit beside you in class and glare at anyone who so much as attempts to make any unnecessary comments

❀ he’d often offer to look after your baby while you took class notes for the both of you

❀ it didn’t take long for iwa to grow fond of your blubbering baby and, of course, you

❀ he noticed how hard you worked; juggling classes, part-time jobs and taking care of your daughter and he admired you for it, so much so that he spent almost every weekend over at your place, insisting on helping you take care of your daughter

“y/n, i don’t want to seem rude but if it’s alright to ask, where’s her dad?”, he’d ask while holding your child, who was curiously pinching and smooshing at his face, as you prepared lunch

it was a question that’s been bugging him for so long, noticing that there was no sign of any other person in your small apartment except for you and your baby

“oh,” you started with a small laugh, “he left when i told him i was pregnant”

the amount of restrain it took iwaizumi to not curse in front of the baby is unthinkable but the bittersweet way you smiled dissipated his anger and he was filled with something he couldn’t quite comprehend

“it’s alright though! we’ve managed to get this far”, there was a wistful pause before you continued, “i’d love it if she grew up with a dad though.”

“then let me” with a voice so steady, unwavering, and as dependable as he was these past few months he continued, “i’ll take care of you.”

he didn’t even let your tears fall as he pulled you in his embrace together with your child, placing a soft kiss on your forehead, 

and for the first time in so long, you’re comforted with the feeling that everything will be fine —and you believed that it will be, as long as he was there

❀ it was just another run to the grocery store with akaashi, him picking out everything on the list while bokuto sluggishly pushed the cart through the aisles

“akaashi what’s taking you so looooong? i want to go hooooome”

“bokuto-san we wouldn’t be spending so much time here if you regularly shopped instead of calling me for help when you’ve eaten the last bit of food in your house and you have nothing else to eat anymore.”

❀ the tall owl-like man deflated more, if that was even possible, as he followed akaashi around

❀ skimming through the snack aisle, he noticed something was tugging on his shirt, but when he looked down..

“daddy?”

AJDKDAFJHKSD DO I LOOK LIKE--

“uhhh akaashi???”

❀ the toddler clutched at the hem of bokuto’s shirt, tear-stained cheeks puffing out as he pouted

❀ bokuto picked the child up and held him in his arms with a bright smile

“what’s wrong buddy? are you lost? should we help you find mommy?”

“we should probably leave him at the security desk, bokuto-san”

“are you my daddy?”, the toddler asked again, teary eyed, ignoring akaashi’s words

“well do you want me to be your daddy?”, he grinned and the child nodded gleefully 

“bokuto-san, no”

he turned to his junior, tears welling up his eyes, “akaashi, i’m a father!!”

“bOKuTO-sAN” 

❀ the tragedy of akaashi keiji

❀ the rest of grocery shopping went by with bokuto picking out stuff for his “son”

❀ it was all fun and games right before you spotted them

“uhm, excuse me but i think that’s my son”

“mommy!” the child’s eyes lit up as he turned to you

“hi baby, let’s go home you’ve troubled this man enough.”

“mommy i found daddy!!”, he said while hugging around bokuto’s head, earning a chuckle from him

you laughed lightly, turning to the two men, “sorry he has a knack for trying to find a dad during grocery runs”

bokuto and akaashi gave each other a look before the latter spoke, “it’s alright you must’ve been worried, bokuto-san please give back her son”

“but akaashi--”

“give him back :)”

bokuto hesitantly placed your son in your arms, the both of them have matching pouts

your son nuzzled against your shoulder, stifling down his sobs and quietly whispered, “but i really wanted him to be my dad”

“maybe we can meet up some other time again so you and bokuto-san can play?”, you eyed the man pleadingly which earned you a giddy nod from both your child and him

❀ that was how you and bokuto started seeing each other regularly

❀ he’d visit your house every weekend, come with you to pick up your son from kindergarten, take you both out for dinner and even stayed over on some occasions 

❀ your son loves him so much and always calls him “dad/daddy”

❀ bokuto calls him “buddy/kid”

❀ your son would often tease bokuto when he catches him stealing glances at you while you walked around the house, getting chores done

“you like mommy don’t you?”, he’d snicker

“i-- whAT? kid where do you get those ideas from?”

you peered through the doorway of you son’s playroom, “baby do you want some snacks?”

“yes please!” the both of them answered at the same time, bokuto turning beet-red while you just stifle down a laugh and went to prepare their snacks

when bokuto was sure that you were out of earshot, he whispered to your son, “kid do you still want me to be your daddy?”

“yes! yes!! YES!!!”, the little boy bounced on his heels happily 

“okay good because i think i want to marry your mommy”

“wakatoshi-kun isn’t that y/n-san?”

❀ ushijima grunted as he had his eyes fixed on your form from across the room

❀ it was your high school reunion and even though you both haven’t met in a while, the former volleyball team captain still felt his spine tingling at the sight of you

❀ you’ve always been pretty, pretty enough to catch his eyes and fascinating enough personality-wise to keep his attention on you

❀ though he never spoke of these feelings throughout high school, it never really vanished even when you’re well on your adult years

❀ and seeing you right now, with the same pretty smile but seemingly tired eyes, he can’t help but yearn for you as he did when you were in high school

❀ while walking to the other end of the room to where you were, he thought of anything to try and hit up a conversation with you but he was pulled from his musings the moment you’re standing in front of him, a mere arms-length away

“y/n..”

“oh ushijima-san! long time no see, how hav--”

“mama!”, you were interrupted as your 5 year old child clung to your hips, “mama the scary man’s coming for me!”

“ᶦ ʷᵃˢ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵗʳʸᶦⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ˢᵃʸ ʰᵉˡˡᵒ“ :’/

“baby don’t be rude that’s just uncle goshiki, go on play with him” you urged your son with a gentle hand on his back

“no! his hair looks weird!!”

❀ rip tsutomu bb

❀ ushijima doesn’t know what to make out of the situation

❀ you have a child? does that mean you were married already? was he too late?

“i didn’t know you got married”

“huh? oh no! i didn’t..”, you were hoping he would get the hint but you remembered that it was ushijima wakatoshi in front of you, so you had to spell it out for him, “i got pregnant shortly after college, his dad left the moment i dropped the news though”

the laugh that came from you was humorless, and that didn’t go unnoticed by ushijima

“would it be alright if i took you out on a date, then?”

❀ with face flushed deep red, you bit the inside of your cheek and nodded, sheepishly squeaking out a quiet “yeah”

❀ you both agreed to meet the next weekend for lunch then take your son on a playhouse while you two catch up

❀ then came the weekend, everything was going well, except for one thing

❀ even at the playhouse, your son didn’t leave your side and instead opted for glaring at ushijima across the table in the parents’ waiting area

“baby it’s rude to glare at people, please go play with the other kids”

“what do you want to do with mama!”, he said pointedly at the mountain of a man 

“talk?”

“what do you want to talk about with her!” 

you couldn’t help but smile at your tiny little bodyguard acting so tough even with a man probably five times his size

“i wanted to know if she would consider marrying me”

at that, you whipped your head to look at the man across the table who was casually talking to your son, the prospect of marrying someone who you secretly pined for for all of high school sending a wave of hot blush on your face

“why?”, your son continued with the questions

“because i would like to marry her”

“why?”

“because i love her”

“since when??”

your face grew incredibly warmer every second that passed by but his answer dealt the finishing blow and you thought your heart would burst

“since all of high school”

#skdfjksdlfsf #this was long #wow #are these even headcanons? #idk #dont @ me #haikyuu #haikyuu!! #haikyuu iwaizumi #haikyuu bokuto #haikyuu ushijima #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu hcs #hq iwaizumi #hq bokuto #hq ushijima #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi x reader #iwazumi hajime #bokuto kotarou #bokuto x reader #bokuto kotarou x reader #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #ushiwaka #ushiwaka x reader #iwaizumi fluff #bokuto fluff

[luxekook]

or what, you’ll spank me? | knj

» pairing: agent!namjoon x hacker/informant!reader » genre: criminal minds au, crack, smut » summary: you live to infuriate your boss, but what happens when you go too far? » word count: 1k+ » warnings: 18+, cursing, dom!namjoon, sub/switch!reader, teasing, spanking, pet names, general chaos

» request: @starlightseoks​ said: i would like to order one (1) namjoon + vodka pls i need to feed my kids and this cafe is a wonderful establishment so i'm placing my order here

as part of the bangtanhq drinks and drabbles challenge

The only thing you loved more than your job was your boss. You particularly lived to tease him, to see how far you can push him, to make him squirm. It was an easy thing to do when you were miles away in your cave of an office and completely separated from the rest of the agency. 

It was significantly harder to do when he came storming into your sacred space full of computers, wires, and monitors looking like he wanted to throw you across his lap and spank the hell out of you. In retrospect, you had technically given him that very idea about an hour ago. It had not been your finest moment to say the least.

You worked as an informant to a government investigative agency. You secretly referred to yourself as a lawful hacker, an overall chaotic good. Sadly, you were absolutely certain that your boss Kim Namjoon felt otherwise since he often bore the brunt of your said chaotic energy.

You could never tell if he actually enjoyed your banter or if he simply tolerated you because you worked with him. Sometimes you could swear he flirted back, but that could just be your own wishful thinking. Either way, you knew that you exasperated him to no end, and you fucking loved it.

Just an hour prior, you had been called by Namjoon to track a lead for a new case. The deep resonance of his voice had met your ears, and you had melted - as per usual. “Hey, (y/n),” He had greeted you with that delicious voice of his, “You’re on speaker. Behave.”

The words had been out of your mouth before you could stop them, “Or what, you’ll spank me?”

You immediately had regretted it. Who knew who else had been in that room with him. By the sounds of the muffled laughter that had echoed through the phone after your flippant remark, you could only assume that Park Jimin and Kim Seokjin had also been present to overhear your special brand of idiocy.

The rest of your conversation with Namjoon had been strained to say the least. You could hear the underlying anger in his tone. Had you really embarrassed him that much? Were you really that unattractive that the mere thought of anything sexual happening between the two of you sent him into a rage? God, you hoped not, but it looked like you were about to find out.

“(Y/n),” Namjoon growled, bursting through your office door.

You jumped out of your cushy office chair and darted behind one of the many desks of monitors littering the room. You needed a barrier between you and this sexy, angry man. “Oh hello, Namjoon,” You sent him an innocent smile, “What brings you over to see little ol’ me?”

“You know exactly why I’m here, brat.” The term rolled off his tongue sinfully, and you felt your heart falter in your chest. His dark eyes were so focused on you that you felt stripped bare under the weight of it all.

“Brat?” You exclaimed, placing a hand on your chest, “Well, I never!”

Namjoon crept closer to you, moving to circle around the very desk you were hiding behind. You mirrored his actions, intent on keeping something between you.

“I find it hard to believe that none of your previous partners have called you a brat before,” He glared, his hands clenching and unclenching like he was holding himself back from lunging for you. 

Partners? Your mind exploded. Had he meant intimate partners? Or workplace partners? You thought back to all the partners you’d had during your time at the agency.

“I mean, I’m sure Yoongi has called me a brat before, but I don’t remember a specific instance,” You flipped through your memories with your former co-worker and came up short.

“You fucked Yoongi?” Namjoon halted in his tracks, his face looking like he might actually throw one of your computers out the window.

“What? No!” You gasped, “What the fuck, Namjoon! I thought you meant workplace partners - not sexual partners!” 

Your analytic brain whirred as you became the living meme of the woman seeing mathematics appear in front of her eyes, “Now wait just a darn-tootin’ second... If you asked if none of my previous intimate partners had called you a brat before, and you just called me a brat… Does that mean you consider yourself to be my current intimate partner?”

Namjoon scowled at you, “I fucking hate how fast your brain works sometimes, but damn if it isn’t hot as hell.”

“Yeah?” You grinned, “You like my sexy brain?”

“Unfortunately,” He growled, looking like he wanted to devour you whole, “That and your fucking smart mouth.”

“Well, what are you going to do about it then, daddy?” You teased him. At this point, you were at least 99.9% sure that he had a daddy kink and that you had pushed him over the edge with your ‘spank me’ comment.

Quicker than you could even blink, Namjoon circled the table, turned you around, and bent you over. “I’m going to spank you, brat. Just like you suggested.”

He hiked up the skirt of your dress to show your lacy underwear. “Fuck, baby girl,” Namjoon’s fingers dragged over the damp spot between your legs, “Is that for daddy?”

You seemed to have lost the capacity to speak, and he got impatient, swatting your clothed pussy swiftly. “I asked you a question.”

“Y-yes,” You moaned, your back arching as you sought some form of contact from him. 

Namjoon spanked your ass outright. Palming it in his hand to relieve the sting, he leaned over your body. His lips brushed your ear as he murmured, “Yes, what?” 

“Yes, Agent Daddy.”

He drew away from you, chuckling slightly, “My, my, you really are such a brat. I’m going to have fun teaching you some discipline.”

“Just call me the teacher’s pet,” You crooned, shooting him a wicked look over your shoulder and gleefully watching his handsome face darken.

You always knew your mouth would get you in trouble someday, but you never predicted that trouble could be so hot.

» inspo:

© luxekook. please do not repost, modify, edit or translate.

#bhqdrabbles #bangtanhq #ficswithluv #btswriterscollective #btswritingcafe #hyunglinenetwork #kwritersworldnet #bangtanarmynet #btsbookclub #btsnoonanet #namjoon x reader #kim namjoon x reader #namjoon smut #bts #bts smut

[secret-engima]

Do you take headcanon requests? If so, could I pls ask for headcanons where Midoriya's dad is a pro hero known as Flame Hunter and Midoriya interns under him (not knowing that's his father) and as time goes by Izuku starts seeing him as another father figure and accidentally calls him dad while Hisashi just cries in the corner with his best dad mug? You don't have to if ya don't want to ^^

Oh. Um.

I ... don’t ... usually? Usually people ask about my already existing AUs but I guess I could try?

-Midoriya is surprised when he gets any internship offers. He didn’t exactly make a good showing during the festival (though he refuses to regret that, not when his actions helped Shouto). He’s definitely surprised that there’s TWO. One is for Gran Torino, who he’s never heard of, but the other...

-The other is Flame Hunter, and Midoriya knows that name.

-Flame Hunter isn’t big name hero, as quirks go his is kinda small. He can breathe concentrated streams of fire up to twenty feet away or inhale fire from up to ten, but compared to say, Endeavor’s EVERYTHING that’s not very impressive. But Midoriya has always loved studying heroes and that includes the small ones and Flame Hunter...

-Maybe it’s because Flame Hunter has a similar quirk to the dad he’s never met, but Midoriya has always been extra fond of the pro hero. It helps that Flame Hunter is actually a really nice guy. He isn’t famous, but he’s GOOD, he specializes in helping police with hard cases, especially ones involving children. He’s done everything from help take down trafficking rings to volunteering to guard the temporary homes of abused kids while they wait for the court case. He makes sure no one bothers the kids, helps them feel safe enough to tell the truth and then guards them to make sure no one comes after them in retribution. He’s also the only pro hero Izuku has EVER heard of that intentionally seeks out and hires staff with “bad” quirks or who are quirkless (his secretary has a ghoul quirk that requires special dietary supplements to manage and his lawyer is quirkless- QUIRKLESS). The rest of the world might not know much about Flame Hunter since he doesn’t advertise his agency a lot, but in the former abuse victim circles and the quirkless circles, Flame Hunter might be more popular than All Might.

-Deku doesn’t ask All Might who he should pick, doesn’t think to, he signs off on Flame Hunter’s offer with shaking hands and a huge grin and only thinks later to ask All Might if it’s okay. All Might just smiles and says it’s fine, unaware of who the other offer was from because Deku forgot to tell him.

-Deku goes to Flame Hunter’s agency and maybe babbles when he meets the sidekicks (Nightbird who is basically a quirkless sidekick because all he can do is change his eye color at will and specializes in infiltration and investigation, Floragora who has Venus Flytraps for hair and works in villain capture, and Alucara who is Basically a Vampire without the sunlight weakness or undead complication and flaunts it gleefully). They and the rest of the staff are super welcoming, and Flame Hunter shakes Deku’s hand easily and smiles behind his vaguely dragon themed mask. Flame Hunter asks Deku about his quirk, how it functions, what control exercises he knows, and then sets him to training with the agency’s personal gym trainer, a tiny man who has a quirk that lets him bench press buildings if he wanted to.

-Hosu still happens, but this time it’s because Flame Hunter takes Deku with him to Hosu to walk a beat around the house of a kid who’s uncle is abusive and going to court for it. Deku sees the Nomus and maybe sorta kinda runs off to help people before Flame Hunter can call him back. Flame Hunter is not best pleased and leaves Floragora to guard the house while chasing after his son new sidekick and so Stain’s power trip is interrupted by 90+ pounds of Smol Fite Me bby hero and one severely unimpressed Dragon Dad who has Lots of Experience dealing with people who use knives (aka Nightbird) and blood quirks (aka Alucara).

-With an Actual Hero on the scene to give them permission to defend themselves there is ... less drama? Sorta? Iida is still in trouble but Deku gets to keep interning with Flame Hunter at least and it’s EPIC. He enjoys every minute of it.

-So kinda assuming Flame Hunter gets in on the Eri hunt thing because Rescuing Abused Child is literally his ballpark and so Deku now has a second invested mentor figure teaching him stuff and encouraging his outlook on helping people over fame and maybe it’s the flame quirk maybe it’s just that Flame Hunter is so NICE for all he’s intensely private and Deku has never seen him without his mask but like-

-He calls him dad.

-By accident.

-Deku was tired and Flame Hunter had just ruffled his hair and said “Good job today” okay? Things happen.

-While Deku internally dies inside, Flame Hunter just smiles and laughs and tells Deku to go home for the day. No negative reaction. It’s fine. Maybe he didn’t even hear the “dad” part.

-Far away in Hisashi’s apartment, things are Not Fine and he Definitely Heard the Dad Comment and is currently sobbing into the Best Dad mug his sidekicks got him years ago while his secretary/best friend pats his back and tells him to “man up and tell the kid your his dad HONESTLY Hisashi, Inko never said you couldn’t TALK TO YOUR OWN SON you’re the one who went undercover to bust up a trafficking ring for five years after the amiable divorce and then felt too guilty to come say hi.”

#SE asks #anon asks #Secret Engima Rambles #bnha #Flame Hunter Dad verse #oh dear #hope this is what you wanted anon!

[trouvelle]

PB & (Alcoholic) Punch

i d e k  let me start by apologizing ;-; I have no idea what made me do this bc it just wrote itself in the middle of the night. For any grammatical and punctuation errors, pls add them to my growing list of apologies! Me is sorry if you don’t like it and hate it TuT

Fandom: DCMK Pairing: mostly Heiji/Kazuha and Kaito/Aoko, side Shinichi/Ran and Makoto/Sonoko Rating: NC-17 Genre/Tags: Comedy, Crack, College!AU Warnings: crack!fic, mild sexual content Summary: Sonoko throws a party and when a Truth-or-Dare game takes off, certain things comes into light. (a.k.a Kaito and Aoko finally kiss and Kazuha finds out about Heiji’s daddy kink)

•

“Kuroba is so drunk,” Heiji slurs, pointing towards the other side of the room where Kaito currently has his arms stretched across the window, “Look at him.”

“I know, right?” Shinichi leans back against the wall, and takes a swig from his beer bottle, lazily waving his hand over at another corner of the house. “Look at those two. No, not the dudes in tank tops, there—those two with the bleached hair by the kitchen island. Don’t they know what peanut butter is for?”

“I can think of thirty different ways to use that jar of peanut butter, and none of them involve sandwiches.”

“Wait, Hattori, look at that guy hugging the window. I’m so glad we’re not friends with these weirdos here. ”

“How drunk are you, Kudo? He is our friend. That’s Kuroba, you idiot. Now look at those two over there.”

“That’s us in a mirror, you idiot.”

“Oh yeah.”

Makoto picks his way through the crowd of drunken fools, cringing every time he accidentally steps on some trash or a limb. Wait—was that the crunch from some spilled food on the floor that he stepped on or was it someone’s body part? “This party is such a bad idea,” he mutters. He probably wouldn’t have been here if it’s not his girlfriend who’s hosting the party.

Shinichi and Heiji snicker at his dismay.

Making his way to stand beside them, Kaito sighs into his red cup, already looking like the world’s ended thrice over. “This cruel, sad existence of mine,” he sighs, for the thirty-ninth time, and he downs the cup, already reaching for another on the table he’s conveniently placed himself next to. 

“You’re one of the saddest drunk people I’ve ever met,” comments Makoto mildly. Kaito doesn’t even react, he just sighs again. He’s at the point where it hurts to not let his pent-up feelings out. If anyone wants to make fun of him, so be it.

“Yeah. What’s up your ass?” Shinichi slurs.

“I think I like Aoko,” utters Kaito dolefully, staring out into the crowd, where Kazuha and Ran are teamed up against the horrendously inebriated Sonoko and Aoko for a beer pong challenge, to a group of cheering spectators. “Since you guys said that it’s troublesome to fall in love with girls you grow up with, I have come to the conclusion that I will live my life in pain and sorrow and never again see the light of day as I bury myself in a cave of my own despair.”

Heiji blinks. “God, that is depressing. Let’s get out of here.”

As they move through the crowd, ignoring Kaito’s sighs, and the agonized shrieks that come from a few unfortunate people who they shoved out of their way, a person pops up in front of them suddenly, and Makoto nearly trips over himself in surprise. No more people-stepping for him. “Gah!”

“Holy shit,” says Shinichi, eyes wide, clutching at his chest, “What are you doing here?”

Shiho is bouncing on her heels, smiling wider than a kid at a candy store. “Sonoko dragged me here, duh!” she says, and her voice is high and squeaky. This is rather alarming. “Did you know that there is a secret stash of Red Bull in the pantry? She told me I can make a punch with it. A lot of people like it. I also dropped a bottle of Absolut in there. Do you guys want some? Wait here.”

And she slips away, giggling, leaving the four of them standing in profound silence.

“I’m scarred for life,” says Kaito.

“Never drinking again,” says Shinichi, but then he looks down at his half-full bottle, and he raises it to them, “Cheers!”

“Hey boys!” Sonoko calls out to them in a sing-songy voice, Makoto immediately zig-zags across the room to her side, “Wanna play Truth or Dare with us?”

“Sign us up!” shouts Heiji, and he drags Shinichi and Kaito, who’s still downing his last bits.

The girls and some others are seated in a circle, already playing, and Aoko says, “Truth,” voice cracking due to her skyrocketing anxiety at the anticipation.

“Who here, do you really want to get into bed with?” asks Sonoko cheekily, ignoring the obvious fact that probably, literally, everyone else already knows her answer. Aoko turns even redder, if it’s even possible. “Come on, answer!”

“Can I just switch to dare, please?” begs Aoko under her breath, looking at everyone but at a certain boy.

Sonoko is not giving up. People don’t call her Cupid-sama for no reason. “I dare you to kiss Kuroba-kun!” She says gleefully. Maybe too much glee. Kaito’s eyebrows flew mile-high to the ceiling.

“Well, here goes.” Despite the fact that she’s stuttering, she makes her way to Kaito and plants a shy kiss on Kaito’s mouth, taking him aback. The rest of the room whoop extremely loudly around them.

Kaito, his head spinning and his entire body going red, still reeling from the kiss, goes, “... Aoko?”

She offers him a shy smile and takes the empty space next to him before dropping her voice an octave lower so only he can hear her, “Later,” she promises. “We have to make the best of this game right now.”

“Okay, Kazuha!” Aoko’s eyes glint, and Kazuha gulps, thinking back on all that she’s ever done to Aoko, and what kind of revenge might be swirling around in her head right now. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” says Kazuha, because she can do anything that anyone dares her to, because she is a fierce, independent woman. When Kaito leans down to whisper something to Aoko, her confidence wavers. But nevertheless, she has made up her mind. “What do you have for me, Aoko-chan?”

“I dare you to call Hattori-kun ‘daddy’ for the rest of the night,” says Aoko, and the rest goes ‘uuuuuh oooooh~’ in the most annoying, drunken voices possible.

Kazuha blinks. This is the easiest dare that anyone has had, as of tonight. There’s literally no harm that can come out of this. “Done!” But then when she turns to Heiji, she sees that his eyes are wide, and still staring at Aoko and Kaito. “What’s up with you?”

“Nothing,” stutters Heiji, but he’s already glancing nervously between Kazuha’s confused face, and Aoko’s girlish grin and Kaito’s evil eye, tries to distract himself by averting his gaze to Shiho, who just reemerged from the kitchen.

She is walking her way to the group, juggling four cups, and accidentally knocking over a random guest who falls over Sonoko’s beautiful leather couch. 

“Is that her special punch?” Ran observes slowly, who’s been sitting on Shinichi’s lap. 

“Don’t drink her punch,” comes a feeble voice from behind the sofa, who sounds suspiciously like Saguru.

“So, daddy,” tries Kazuha casually, and Heiji freezes in place. “Are you okay? You look a bit flushed, daddy.”

“I’m fine.” Heiji tugs at his t-shirt, and fans at himself. “I need to… go get some fresh air. Or something.”

Kazuha watches in confusion as he dashes away, and she follows, not even noticing the drunken cackle that escapes Kaito’s throat. For a guy who’s a sad, lovesick drunk not half an hour earlier, Kaito sure recovers really fast. Thank Aoko for that.

Kazuha manages to find Heiji pretty easily. She speeds up her pace and catches him just as he is about to close the bathroom door. He nearly jumps, spinning around to face her. “Are you okay? You don’t usually—Oh my God, Heiji! When did that happen?”

Heiji has pitched a rather big tent, clearly visible through the line of his jeans.

“Uh,” says Heiji, and he looks flustered. “Just now?”

“What do you mean just now? We barely even touched each other tonight! We were only playing—“ Kazuha stops herself there, and a flashback of the game runs through her mind. “Oh. I see.” Her lips curl up into a sneaky grin, and she adds for a good measure, “Daddy~”

Heiji quickly pulls her in and locks the door.

“Do you like it when I call you that?” She takes a few steps forward, and Heiji exhales, not taking his gaze away from hers. 

“Christ,” whispers Heiji, just as Kazuha’s fingers trail lightly up the expanse of skin under his t-shirt.

“Come on, daddy,” She whispers in return, snaking a hand around his neck to pull his head down, “I’m all yours, always.”

She can see something in Heiji’s eyes just break, and then he crashes their mouths together in a hot, searing kiss, backing her up against the nearest flat surface, knocking down some things in the process. He kisses like he’s in control, and she lets him. 

Resistance is futile, Heiji realizes, when it comes to Kazuha.

#heizuha #kaiao #shinran #makosono #dcmk #college au #i promise you i'm not on anything when i wrote this #;-; <3 #i was just going through party pictures from pre-covid-19 and um #Headcanon: Heiji has a daddy kink bc HELLO YES #that alpha male of an octopus #university au

[sixtyfourk]

001 you know me I gotta ask for Clive/Flora :3

I was hoping you would... :D Thank you for indulging me, and I’m sorry for this essay ^^

when I started shipping it if I did:

Long story… I was playing through all of the PL games this spring for the first time in years, and found myself really liking Flora, far more than I’d ever liked her when playing the games as a kid. Then, when I got to UF, I found myself getting really attached to Clive as well. Not only did I love both characters, but I really liked their interactions; I’d been getting upset about how much Flora was left behind, and lo and behold, “Future Luke” tells Luke that Flora should be included on the adventure, and that she’s allowed to be excited, etc. 

Clive kept on sticking up for Flora, and they seemed to get along really well (not to mention all of the cute little moments they had together, like on the stairs to the Thames Arms), and I was getting really invested in their relationship. Then Clive went completely off the rails, and even though I knew this was coming, I honestly felt as upset and confused as Flora did. I wanted to hear his apology, and I wanted to see more out of a relationship that I felt had so much promise. 

my thoughts:

I absolutely love Clora; I haven’t been this excited about a ship in a long time. I adore both characters, and the similarities in their backgrounds are just perfect for writing about; they have so much to bond over. They have a really cute and wholesome dynamic in UF, before they really knew each other, and I love the idea of that continuing and developing into something deeper as they slowly get to know the real versions of each other. 

At first, Flora’s angry and confused, and Clive is lost in self-hate and regret; he’s just messed up so much already, and there’s no way that he can ever apologize correctly. But Flora just refuses to give up on getting the closure she needs, and just keeps on coming back until she gets it. They’ve got the perfect balance of in-game hints where the pairing isn’t pulled out of nowhere, and also open-endedness where there’s lots to explore as a writer. 

I think they’d definitely need a lot of time before ever starting a romantic relationship. While there were little hints at the ship in the game (I think), romance was the farthest thing from Clive’s mind at the time (I don’t think he’d ever been interested in anything of the kind before), and it was Flora’s first proper adventure. Their falling-out in the game really solidifies the fact that they need a lot of time to process things and get to know each other all over again. I’d want them to become good solid friends first before going anywhere near romance. After that, though... ugh, the mutual pining would be so good, ahhh...!

What makes me happy about them:

So much. I really love how on the surface, Flora is the “cute” one and Clive is the “prickly” one, but really, they aren’t that different. Flora has a lot of issues and a lot of pain in her past like Clive, and Clive also gets deeply attached to other people (especially his family) like Flora does. I think that they have so much potential to help each other open up and deal with the difficulties from their pasts, and support each other when the other is going through a rough time. And honestly, they’re just really adorable together. They’ve got such a nice mix of sweetness and angst, and I just love thinking and writing about them.

(Also they’re holding hands in one of the end credits scenes...! I so rarely ship anything with any canon evidence, so that, and all of Clive’s little “Don’t worry, Flora” comments in the game just make me really happy).

What makes me sad about them:

Hhh…. I just think that Clive messed things up SO bad. He messed up from the beginning. It’s not even just the kidnapping part; that could probably be (generously) explained by Clive suddenly deciding that he didn’t want Flora to get stomped by the Mobile Fortress (although he should have told her/just not used the Mobile Fortress, but okay). It’s that he was pretending to be “Future Luke” all along, and, due to Flora’s past of having people she cares about replaced by lookalikes (Dahlia replacing her mom, herself being replaced by Don Paolo (and Luke gleefully showing her the Flora mask on the train ride home!), and less traumatically, Don Paolo replacing the professor), I think that “Big Luke” suddenly turning into “Clive” would be really upsetting for her. 

Despite all of that, though, all Flora asked for was an apology--and then the two of them never get to talk again. I don’t know… I’m just sad that they seemed to get along so well before, and if Clive had been able to say sorry right then, maybe they could have parted on better terms than they did, just like Clive and the professor got to. Instead, we don’t get any apology or closure. Flora deserved an apology.

things done in fanfic that annoys me:

Ugh, SO many things. There’s about 100 stories with both characters tagged on ff.net, and I can only really recommend about ten of them. At best, it’s a generic “bad boy/good girl” dynamic, or Clive is suddenly super nice and Flora is incredibly ditzy, and at worst, Clive’s abusive. (please don’t read the earliest ff.net stories, no matter how desperate you get.) 

Admittedly, people are very critical of Clora at the best of times, so I feel like there’s a higher standard for it than there are for other pairings. I just feel like Flora often gets written as the “everygirl,” sort of as a reader-insert that gets to date Clive. Or, Clive is a total woobie who gets immediately forgiven by Flora with no resistance at all. Honestly though, as long as it’s obvious that someone is trying their best to keep them in-character and on equal footing, I would be happy to read anyone’s take on them. They are a difficult pair to write, I think, so I don’t expect anyone to get it perfect (since there really is no perfect way to write them).

things I look for in fanfic:

Ideally? Just like 10 Years. The slow burn, the hard work to earn forgiveness, the friendship, the attention to their similarities, the acknowledgement of both of their traumas… boy, I will never stop recommending that story. I’m so glad it exists; it’s given me so many ideas and it addresses all of the things that make me feel bad about the pairing. 

Outside of that fic… I just want acknowledgement of what Clive did wrong, him working to fix it, and them starting to understand each other and grow fond of each other. (Also… lots of angst and hurt/comfort, haha, but that’s me with every type of fanfic). Conversely, I’d like to just see them doing cute things together or going on an adventure without talking about the past constantly as well; once the apology is over, they don’t have to constantly return back to the past. I feel like Clora is a super good candidate for slow burn as well; I loved it in 10 Years and I’d love to see another take on it.

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: 

Honestly no one… when I really like a ship, I can’t multiship without getting sad, haha… :’) 

My happily ever after for them:

I’ve got several different AUs for them, but for one of them, I’d like to see them get married and move to St. Mystere. They can work together and take over Bruno’s job of repairing the robot residents and take care of the village. They’d visit and be visited by the professor and the rest of the family frequently, but I think that they’d both be happier away from London. I think Clive interacting with the Reinholds would be really funny too, haha… I do have a longer story I still want to write too, though, so my ideas for a happy ending for them may change a lot as I write.

who is the big spoon/little spoon:

It’s a 60-40 split, with Flora being the little spoon slightly more.

what is their favorite non-sexual activity:

I think they try to learn how to be good cooks together. Flora was never good, obviously, but I think that Clive also only knows how to cook the basics (lazy rich kid). Once Clive starts living with the professor, though, he realizes that it’s pretty much going to be up to him to feed this family, because the professor forgets to cook, Flora’s bad at it, and Alfendi’s a baby. He starts to work at getting better, and Flora decides to practice more too, and they wind up competing with each other. They also use each other as test subjects for the food they want to give to the professor (it’s okay if they give each other food poisoning, but the professor? Perish the thought!) By the time Alfendi’s a little kid, they’re both half-decent, but still make fun of each other’s cooking, and Alfendi will pick a side with whoever he’s feeling more charitable towards at the time. 

They also have unscheduled midnight tea time at least once a week. Clive doesn’t sleep a lot, and Flora wakes up during the night quite often, so she often comes downstairs to find him pacing around, and makes a pot of tea. Sometimes she’ll go up again after having a cup, and sometimes they fall asleep on the couch together.

#answered asks #clora #long post #tw abuse mention #64's headcanons #pajcali #thank you so much for asking!!

[exoticarmyofcrowns]

first love | myg

pairing: none. this is a solo yoongi fic

summary: nothing is for certain. except yoongi’s love for his piano. or: first love in too many words

genre: song fic, angst

warnings: some mentions of depression and yucky thoughts, potentially triggering mention of a panic attack (i tried to be purposefully vague but just in case), potentially graphic depiction of a car accident

word count: ~5.5k

a/n: hello! so uh here i am making my debut! i am still reeling from the emotional rollercoaster that was bangbangcon and it kinda rallied me into wanting to publish this?? i adore first love, i think it is such a poignant, poetic representation of yoongi’s love and devotion to music and i really wanted to explore that relationship a little in story form. i’ve had this written for a while and i’ve always wanted to write stuff on here but never had the courage. but i figure we all collectively need some respite from our emotions so here is a small gift, if anyone would like to take a look. if you do, pls enjoy and let me know your thoughts! <3

(also, please keep in mind that artistic liberties were taken despite being based off of yoongi’s life.)

Yoongi is five years old.

He wanders out of his room, looking for his mom. He just has to show her this awesome drawing that he made. He knows that she’ll love it, that she will be proud of him. Smiling gleefully, he toddles off into the rest of the house to find her.

“Eomma!” he yells, hoping she’ll hear him and give him a clue as to where she is. Maybe she’s playing hide and seek! Yoongi giggles at the thought, determined now more than ever to find her.

He checks his parents room, frowning when he realizes it’s empty. It’s not bedtime, he reasons, she wouldn’t be in here. Closing the door, Yoongi sets off into the living room to check there. But there’s no sign of his mother there either. She’s not in the kitchen and the bathroom door is open so she’s not in there either. Frustrated, Yoongi turns to go back to his room.

On his way back, he spots a door at the end of the hall. His eyes narrow as he purses his lips. He hadn’t checked there yet. Maybe she really is hiding from him. Deciding it was worth a try, he stomps over to the door and reaches up to grab the handle. 

It takes a few tries but Yoongi manages to gather enough strength to push open the door. He whips his head around, checking every possible corner for signs of his mom. He’s about to let out a frustrated whine when his eyes catch on something on the far wall to his right.

A piano.

Yoongi had seen pictures of pianos before in the stories his mom would read to him before bed but he had never seen one up close. It’s massive, towering over his small frame in a way that should have been intimidating but only filled him with quiet wonder. 

Scrambling up on the tall bench--which should have tipped over with the force of his jump but it miraculously stayed put--Yoongi takes in the white and black keys, marveling at the way they shine in the light coming from the window. He sticks out a small, chubby finger and presses one of the keys. The note rings out around him and he giggles in delight. 

Pretty, he thinks. He begins pressing keys in earnest, playing around with different note combinations and laughing in pure joy when he finds a pair that he likes. He’s so enraptured by the piano that he hardly notices when the door creaks open.

“There you are, little one.” His mother’s voice has a playful lilt in it as she watches her son play the piano with unadulterated glee.

“Eomma!” Yoongi cries, excited to show her his discovery. “Look! A piano!”

“I see!” she laughs. “You’re quite the musician.”

“Musician,” he repeats, liking the way it feels on his tongue. “I feel so nice, mom.”

Yoongi’s mother cards her fingers through his hair fondly, chuckling at her precocious son. “Hmm, maybe the piano likes you. You two will grow up to be the best of friends.” She scoops the young child in her arms, heart warming at the squeals of laughter the action elicits.

“Come on now, my little Beethoven,” his mother says, setting Yoongi back down on the ground and taking his small hand in hers. “It’s time for lunch.”

As he follows his mother out of the room, Yoongi takes one last look at the piano. He smiles, already excited to play again.

Yoongi is fourteen years old. 

The last bell rings, signaling the end of the school day but Yoongi hardly hears it, pen scribbling furiously across his paper. Inspiration had struck in the middle of math class and he has to get the lyrics down before he leaves to go home. 

Finishing, he rereads through his work with a small smile. He’s quite proud of these lyrics, thinks they might be the best yet. He already has an idea for a backing beat swirling in his head, one that would really compliment the message of his rap and the new flow he’s been experimenting with. He feels giddy with excitement at the idea of playing around with some different sounds. Standing, Yoongi packs up his things, throwing his journal into his bag before heading out with the rest of his classmates. 

As he walks, Yoongi is, not for the first time, conscious of how alone he is. Girls walk in line with their arms interlocked while the guys are loud and boisterous, hanging off each other with wide grins on their faces. He has friends of course, if you could call the neighborhood kids he plays basketball with on occasion “friends,” but none that he would consider particularly close to him. The thought leaves him feeling strange so he shuts it out, shaking his head roughly as if to physically dispel it.

He makes his way to the school entrance, hanging a quick left past the convenience store to the bus stop. He catches a glimpse of a group of students talking and laughing, indulging in a hot bowl of ramen before heading home. Yoongi’s stomach rumbles at the sight and he pauses, calculating. His shoulders slump when he realizes he doesn’t quite have enough, the change burning a hole in his pocket just enough to cover his bus fare home and little else. He doesn’t get paid again until Friday. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he ignores the cramping in his stomach and continues on to catch his bus.

The bus ride home is, thankfully, uneventful. He trudges his way from the bus stop to his house. Like he does every day. As he climbs the steps, Yoongi thinks a little wryly to himself that the house that had seemed so huge to him as a child feels scarcely bigger than a prison cell. Maybe it’s the hunger talking.

Opening the front door, Yoongi sighs out a half-hearted I’m home! despite knowing the house is empty. He bends over to shuck off his shoes and place them in the cubby. A soft thud sounds behind him but he doesn’t notice.

Yoongi heads to the kitchen to down a glass of water in the hopes of dispelling the growing hunger pangs before shuffling to his room, tossing his backpack carelessly at the foot of his bed and flopping face-first onto the thin mattress. He knows he should probably get up and finish his homework but he still feels the residual exhaustion from his weekend shifts at the convenience store. Maybe he should ask Mr. Kim to lighten up on his hours. Yoongi would have to sell more songs to make up the income difference but he thinks it might be worth it to get some extra sleep.

He nods off for what he swears can’t be more than a few minutes but the sound of the front door shutting and the way his room has dimmed significantly suggest otherwise. Swearing, Yoongi turns on his bedside lamp and rubs a tired hand down his face. He stands, stretching his tight muscles, and moves to grab his bag from the floor. The house is eerily silent considering his parents have just come home but Yoongi brushes the thought away in favor of pulling out his textbook to get started on his homework.

Just as he’s about to sit down, a figure stops in front of his bedroom doorway. Yoongi looks up, a small smile and a greeting on his lips. They both wither at the sight before him.

There stands his father, holding his lyrics journal. Yoongi feels his mouth go dry.

They stare at each other for an immeasurable amount of time. Yoongi tries to think of something, anything, to say but his mind has blanked and his skin prickles in a cold sweat. His father recovers before he does.

“Min Yoongi,” he begin, voice deceptively calm. “What is this?”

“A-Appa,” Yoongi stutters. “I can explain--”

“I thought we talked about this, Yoongi.” He steps into Yoongi’s room and the younger boy fights the urge to cower where he stands. “You should be focusing on your studies. Not on these frivolous songs.”

Yoongi winces and tries to push down the flash of irritation. “Yes, appa. B-But I haven’t been letting it affect my grades. I get all my school work done and I try to help you and mom out by picking up extra shifts at Mr. Kim’s store--”

“And selling this drivel on street corners?” Yoongi freezes. His parents weren’t supposed to know about that. “Oh yes, I know all about your little escapades on the streets. Do you know how risky that is? What kind of danger you could be putting yourself in?”

“I…” Yoongi’s voice sounds incredibly small and he hates it. “It’s just to get my name out there. Get some experience.”

“You don’t need experience. This…nonsense--”

“It’s rap, appa. Hip hop.”

His father fixes him with a look but doesn’t comment. “This isn’t a real career, Yoongi.” 

“But I… I love it,” he whispers, trembling with repressed anguish. 

“Love is not enough to make a living.” His father closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing heavily. “Is there more?” 

Yoongi hesitates before nodding slowly.

“Give it to me.” He holds his hand out, frown set deeply on his forehead. “This ends now.”

Balking, Yoongi takes a step back, heart crawling into his throat and suffocating him. “A-Appa, no. You can’t--”

“I can and I will. Hand them over, Yoongi.”

The boy feels something akin to rage rush through his veins. He chances a glance at the doorway and sees his mother standing there uneasily.

“Eomma,” he cries thickly.

His mother looks equally as pained but her gaze flickers to her husband. “Your father is right, Yoongi-yah. This… Rap is a hobby, not a job. This could get you involved in the wrong circles. You need to focus on your school work.” She doesn’t meet his gaze.

Anger bubbles in his chest and stings at his eyes, but he chokes down the frustrated scream threatening to tear itself from his throat and moves mechanically to gather his other notebooks full of lyrics. Stiffly, he stands before his father and offers the notebooks.

His father’s expression softens minutely. “We’re doing this for your own good, Yoongi. Please do not doubt this.” With that, he leaves. A year’s worth of lyrics. Gone. His mother lingers at the door but ultimately leaves without another word.

Suddenly, his room feels too small, the faded walls of his old home closing in on him rapidly. Frustration and the anger swirl so violently in his stomach Yoongi thinks he’ll be sick. He can’t be here anymore but he also can’t leave. 

So he runs to the only place he can think of.

The piano room has remained largely untouched since his younger days. The air is stale and faintly musty but Yoongi doesn’t care, can’t bring himself to care as he flings himself onto the old piano bench, arms cradling his head atop the fallboard. Hot, angry tears fall in torrents down his cheeks and his fists clench so tightly he can feel the sharp sting of his nails on his palm. He muffles his cries into his arms, into the piano, unable to keep the sounds to himself any longer.

It takes a while for Yoongi to calm down. Eventually, his tears slow and his breath evens out, though it still hiccups slightly in his chest. He sits up gingerly and stares down at the piano. He hasn’t been here in years and yet… It felt so natural to come here for comfort. Like it was waiting for him.

Shakily, he moves to slide the fallboard back, revealing the shining keys. He straightens his back, falling into position. His fingers hover over the keys, supported lightly by his wrists. The angle is different now that he has grown, no longer dwarfed by the beautiful instrument. Hesitant, Yoongi tries to recall one of the songs his music teacher had taught him and begins to play stiltedly.

It’s awkward; his fingers can’t quite move the way they used to and his new height works against him as he tries to find a comfortable position to play. But the longer he sits, the more comfortable it becomes until he feels like he’s sat here his whole life--playing, listening, living. Yoongi feels a shiver travel down his spine, cleansing and fresh. The anguish and tension from earlier bleeds through his fingertips as he loses himself. 

Gradually, Yoongi stops playing, letting the resounding final notes of his song envelop him, but he doesn’t move. He stays, basking in the warmth, a sort of quiet acceptance, that seems to cradle his body as he sits. 

Caressing the keys almost reverently, Yoongi makes a promise to himself. Rap and writing lyrics and music--these things make up the complex tapestry that is him and he will never let that go ever again. It’s his life to live, his destiny to choose, and he will not let anyone make that decision for him. Not even his parents.

And as he sits there, the boy with his piano welcoming the dawn, he feels the weight on his heart lift just a bit.

Yoongi is nineteen years old.

The rumble of the small bike he uses to make deliveries is the only thing keeping him awake as he drives to his next customer. He’s been pulling more all-nighters as he and the other guys work toward debut, writing songs and going over choreographies. It’s an endless loop of meetings and practices and Yoongi can feel the strain on his frayed nerves. He knows he’s been moodier with his members, too.

His members, he thinks wryly. It wasn’t exactly what he had imagined when he accepted his position at Big Hit but he figures it’s the only way to get what he wants. Music is more important to him than anything. If it requires him to play nice with others for the time being then he can do that. 

Yoongi rolls to a stop at a traffic light and lets out a small sigh, foot coming down onto the pavement to steady himself. The roads are practically empty and it does nothing to quell the exhaustion weighing down his eyelids. It seems like no matter where he is, work will always be a constant in his life. He hadn’t even meant to get another job on top of his producer gig but he’d seen an ad looking for someone to make deliveries a few times a week. The pay was pretty decent and it would be a nice supplement to what he was receiving at Big Hit so he took it. 

It was, however, coming back to bite him in the ass now that things are starting to pick up for them. Just a little longer, he figures. Once they debut, he’ll probably have to quit anyway so might as well enjoy the little extra paycheck for now. Yoongi taps his foot impatiently on the ground as he waits for the light to change, sighing in relief when bright green washes over him and signals him to go.

He’s not quite sure how it happens. He remembers picking his foot up off the ground as he releases the clutch, crossing over the line into the intersection. He thinks he recalls the distant sound of a horn blaring, of a bright light flashing, but that’s overshadowed by the sudden force pushing him onto the ground. His head cracks back against the pavement and thankfully his helmet bears the brunt of the impact but Yoongi still feels the sharp pressure against his skull, a dull ringing sounding in his ears.

Yoongi’s eyes had closed when he was thrown back and he pries them open, vision fuzzy and unfocused, only to be met with the daunting image of a car wheel right in his face. Belatedly, he registers the sound of a bone-chilling scream. He tries to turn his head to find the source of the sound but he realizes with haunting clarity that it’s coming from him. 

Just as he makes the connection, Yoongi begins to hurt. White-hot pain radiates from his shoulder so potent it chokes him. He hears the sound of an engine revving and the wheel in front of his face starts to move away. It catches on his bike, sending it crashing into his shoulder, and another scream of agony scrapes his throat raw. Tears stream from his eyes, further obscuring his vision, but he can still make out the image of the car speeding away, tires screeching as exhaust spews from the pipe.

Yoongi is torn between the excruciating pain and the disbelief that someone just fucking hit him and drove off without even stepping out of the car. He wants to shout curses at the retreating vehicle but the throbbing in his shoulder has intensified even more, churning his stomach so violently it’s a wonder he doesn’t throw up right there. 

Hours pass, it feels like, before a strange sort of numbness begins to filter through his limbs. His body is heavy, and his eyes can no longer hold themselves open. He’s not sure how long he lays there, disoriented and unable to move before someone takes notice of him but he thinks he hears someone frantically calling 911. Soon he hears the sharp siren of an ambulance, lights blinding Yoongi even as he teeters between consciousness and unconsciousness.

The ride to the hospital is a blur. The paramedics had tried talking to him but he was just so tired and everything hurt so bad he could hardly focus long enough to force his lips to form words much less complete sentences. They must hook him to an IV because he feels a sharp prick on the inside of his arm and suddenly his muscles relax. He knows he can’t sleep though so he fights to keep himself awake.

He barely registers arriving at the hospital, the jostling of the stretcher the only indication that he’s moving. A doctor asks one of the paramedics for the report and Yoongi only hears bits of the diagnosis. He knows his shoulder is fucked but the way they’re talking about it unnerves him. He’s anxious now, heart rate spiking as he thinks of the implications this could have on the group. His breathing stutters, sending a shooting pain through his ribs, and he can feel the beginnings of a panic attack tightening in his chest. This catches the attention of the doctor and nurses and they’re suddenly focused on him.

“Yoongi-ssi,” the doctor begins, voice soft and cajoling. He vaguely wonders how he knows his name but then figures the paramedics must have found his license. “You’ve had quite the accident. I know you must be in a lot of pain but is there someone we can call to stay with you and sign some papers?”

Yoongi stares unseeingly at the doctor’s face and really tries to get his voice to cooperate. He knows he can’t call his parents, not yet at least, so he says the first name that comes to mind. 

“N-Namjoon. Kim Namjoon.” He rattles off what he hopes is his phone number before the effort becomes too great. He tries to fight it, he really does, but the events of the night begin to take its toll and his eyelids slip closed as he falls into the beckoning darkness.

When Yoongi comes to, he’s greeted with an annoying beeping somewhere off to his left. He squints, eyes blinking furiously to clear his vision from the blinding white of the hospital room. Moving to sit up, he winces and immediately stops trying to move. He feels like he’s been hit by a truck, which is not too far off, he thinks a little dryly.

A movement to his right makes him flick his gaze to the window where a figure he hadn’t noticed before jumps up from their position in a chair. It’s Namjoon.

“Hyung,” he cries, eyes wild as he practically sprints toward the bed. Yoongi would laugh if he weren’t sure he looked just as ridiculous. “What happened?”

Yoongi scoffs only to grimace when the small movement jerks his shoulder. “Oh, you know, just a casual Friday night.” He tries to joke but Namjoon just gives him a deadpan look so he clears his throat and looks away. “I was making deliveries and some asshole ran a light and hit me. Pretty sure they crushed my shoulder.”

Namjoon nods. He had heard as much from the doctor when he had come in. He seemed to be unimpressed with a barely legal kid coming as Yoongi’s “guardian” but Namjoon couldn’t have cared less in that moment. 

“Do you know who did it?”

“Nah, the bastard sped off as soon as I went down.” Yoongi watches as Namjoon’s face drops in horror, head tipping back in disbelief. 

“Goddammit.” He runs a tired hand through his hair before sliding it down his face.

“What time is it anyway?” 

Namjoon glances at his watch. “Almost eight.”

Yoongi releases a breath. “Fuck. There goes morning practice.” 

“Hyung.” Namjoon’s voice has deepened into his leader voice and Yoongi fights the urge to wince again. “Be serious.”

At his sides, Yoongi’s fists clench. “Does anyone else know?” He raises his gaze to look at the younger man. Namjoon shakes his head once, not breaking eye contact. “Good. Keep it that way.”

The leader balks at that. “What?!” he splutters. “You can’t be serious--”

“Joon.” Yoongi cuts him off with a look, voice softening into a desperate plea. “Please.”

This stops Namjoon short. Yoongi is so rarely vulnerable with him but they have been working and living together for two years now. They’re coworkers and, dare he think, friends. He doesn’t know the full story but he does know that Yoongi’s life has been anything but easy. He has his own reasons for doing the things he does and Namjoon has to understand and trust that Yoongi knows what he’s doing. 

Although it goes against everything his mind is screaming at him, Namjoon nods at the elder. “Okay, hyung. I won’t say anything.”

Yoongi relaxes then, thankful that the younger has decided to trust him.

The next few hours pass relatively quickly. The doctor comes in shortly after their talk and gives Yoongi a run-down of his injuries. His shoulder is practically nonfunctional and he has to keep it wrapped and in a sling for at least six weeks, possibly longer. He doesn’t have a concussion, thank goodness, but the doctor reminds him to come back if he experiences bouts of nausea and recurring headaches. He looks reluctant to say so but he tentatively tells Yoongi that he can leave the hospital but he strongly recommends that he stay at least a few days. Yoongi immediately refuses.

They discuss proper care of Yoongi’s injuries before he’s finally released downstairs to fill out his discharge papers. Namjoon sticks close to his side, listening attentively to the doctor’s explanations and helping Yoongi fill out the papers he can’t quite lift his arm high enough to sign. His ears burn hotly with embarrassment but he’s thankful for Namjoon’s presence nonetheless.

The trip back to the dorm is silent but not uncomfortably so. They hail a taxi from the hospital entrance and Namjoon helps the older into the back seat, opening the door and steadying him as he sits. Yoongi wants to protest that he’s not an invalid but he sort of is. Also, try as he might, he can’t quite stop the swell of affection that overtakes him as the younger fusses over him so he sits back, silent.

Yoongi doesn’t bother to try and hide it from the others. Can’t, really, since they’re all sitting in the living room waiting for them as soon as they step through the doors. Seokjin is the first to reach them, brow furrowed in concern as he takes in Yoongi’s haggard appearance and his sling. He places a hand on his good shoulder, squeezing gently and moving to cup the side of his neck in a tender gesture, before murmuring something about making something for him to eat. 

Jeongguk is next, doe eyes puffy and shining with tears, and he looks like he wants to launch himself at Yoongi but Hoseok has a strong grip on his forearm, other arm rubbing soothingly down his side. Yoongi reaches out and ruffles the youngest’s hair, lips quirked in a small smile to let him know that he’s alright. A small whimper escapes the boy but he valiantly keeps his tears at bay, returning a watery smile before retreating further into Hoseok’s hold. Hoseok looks deeply into his eyes, tense posture relaxing as he gives his hand a squeeze. Jimin and Taehyung stay back but look at him just as sadly as the others. Yoongi shakes his head and offers another smile he hopes is reassuring. He doesn’t think it works. 

The boys fuss over Yoongi well into the night and he tells himself that he’s too tired to be annoyed at their coddling. Namjoon basically moves into his and Seokjin’s room, insisting that he help take care of his injuries as per the doctor’s instructions. Showering proves to be a challenge and it takes both Namjoon and Seokjin to help him undress and cover his cast so that it doesn’t get wet. Yoongi practically dies from the mortification but he’s grateful for the two of them.

Yoongi resumes their regular schedule of activities, much to the disapproval of the rest. He hides his sling and cast under massive t-shirts and jackets that swallow his slender frame whole. Dance practices are hard but he forges ahead, pushing his shoulder to limits he probably shouldn’t but it gets the job done and keeps the suspicious eyes off of him. He pays for it later, though, in the confines of his room after Namjoon and Seokjin have fallen asleep, when he has to muffle his sobs of agony against his good arm.

He likes to think he’s been managing fairly well all things considered but one practice tips him over the edge. It’s been three months since the accident and his shoulder has healed almost entirely but it still acts up every so often. This morning had been particularly rough and no amount of pain-killers had been able to take the edge off. 

The choreographer had just left, leaving Hoseok in charge of the rest of practice. Yoongi sits heavily on the floor, chest heaving, and grabs his water bottle before guzzling the contents. They’ve been going at it for the better part of four hours now and there doesn’t seem to be an end in sight.

“Hoseok-hyung,” Jeongguk pants, flicking his t-shirt against his body in an effort to cool down. “Can we take a break? Please?”

“Soon, Guk. I just want us to do a few more run-throughs before we call it a day.” Hoseok’s eyes don’t leave the mirror as he completes a step and repeats it again.

Jeongguk pouts but doesn’t protest further. Namjoon flickers his gaze over to Yoongi before heading over to Hoseok, clapping a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

“Come on, Hoseok-ah. Why don’t we take fifteen and recuperate a little. Then we’ll get back into it.” He sends a pointed glance to where Yoongi sits near their things and the elder man bristles slightly at that.

“Namjoon. It’s fine, let’s just keep going.” He tries not to snap but he knows it comes out far more bitter than he means.

“Hyung, I just think--”

“I’m fine.” Yoongi launches himself from the ground and takes his position in front of the mirror. “From the top.”

Namjoon and Hoseok share a look as the others stare in silence but Yoongi ignores them in favor of analyzing his form in the mirror. His shoulder throbs insistently.

“From the top,” Hoseok repeats lifelessly, and everyone falls into position. 

They manage a few more rehearsals before Yoongi truly starts to feel the consequences. He’s sore and sweaty and his shoulder seems to have developed its own pulse, pounding painfully in time with the music. One move in particular sends a shooting pain down his arm so sharp he yelps in surprise, doubling over with the effort to breathe. The others are on him in an instant.

“Hyung, are you alright--”

“Yoongi-yah, why don’t you just sit--”

“Hyung, come on, let’s all just--”

“I said I’m fine!” Yoongi roars, irritation peaking. “Would everyone please just stop treating me like I’m made of fucking glass?”

No one answers, no one even dares to breathe. Five heads swivel to Namjoon who seems just about as bewildered about the outburst as everyone else.

Yoongi is breathing heavily now, part from pain and part from the force of his outrage. He knows he’s being irrational but he’s sick and tired of having them hover around him like he could collapse at any moment. He’s fine goddammit!

Another long moment passes and Yoongi can’t face them again, not when he feels so unstable. Frustration--at them, at no one, at himself--forms a heavy lump in his throat and he swallows thickly to dislodge it.

“I’m heading to the studio. Don’t wait up.” He grabs his bag and practically flies out the door, heading to the second floor. He flings his studio door open and quickly closes it behind him, breathing heavily. 

His head falls into his hands before they move into his hair and tug harshly. Hot tears prick at his eyes and Yoongi can’t stop the anguished cry from leaving his lips as he crumples in on himself. He’s just so tired and stressed and in so much pain. He knows the others mean well but he hates this, hates being reminded that this only happened because of his stupidity. He was the one with the second job, he was the one who got in that stupid accident, he was the one who forced them to keep it a secret. It’s hard on everyone and Yoongi has no one to blame but himself.

He shouts in frustration, throwing his bag down harshly onto the ground. The action seems to awaken a deeper desire to destroy, to hurt just as he is, and before he can think through it, he’s overturning the small armchair and coffee table with a yell. 

Red flashes behind his eyes and the emotions that have been simmering low in his stomach boil over, running hotly through his veins. Yoongi screams at the furniture as if they’re the cause of his suffering and he lands a violent kick to its surface, once, twice. His desk chair receives the same treatment and he turns to grab the baseball bat he keeps by the door. Stalking toward his electric piano, he raises the bat above his head to strike but he hesitates. Another harsh ripple of pain rushes through him and that’s all it takes. 

Dropping the bat, Yoongi falls to his knees just as the first tears fall. He cries and cries, clutching his shoulder as if it were the only thing anchoring him. He can’t do this anymore, he can’t. He’s not cut out for performing or music or any of it. 

Maybe his parents were right.

He stays there for a while, hiccuping in the silence of his studio. His breathing eventually slows but the heaviness in his heart remains. Looking up, Yoongi takes in the sight of his piano. It’s obviously different from the one he has at home but it’s still familiar, comforting. He rises slowly, taking care to mind his shoulder, and grabs the small bench from underneath the stand. Sitting, his body moves almost automatically into position. Yoongi’s shoulder twinges again but it’s more manageable this time. He takes a deep breath, centering himself, and plays.

He’s not sure what he’s playing, just letting his fingers glide across the keys as they see fit. He almost wishes he were recording himself so he could listen to it back but he doesn’t want to stop playing even for a moment to pull out his phone. So he doesn’t; just keeps playing. And playing. And playing.

It’s hours later when Yoongi finally stops. The last note lingers delicately in the air and he doesn’t breathe for fear of shattering the serenity that had settled around him. Only when it’s silent again does he exhale and he feels different. Still hurting, still heavy, but peaceful. 

Sighing, he stands up from the piano and goes to right the furniture he upended during his tantrum. Once everything is back in order, he looks around the room until his gaze lands on the piano. It just stands there, unmoving, unchanging, just as it always has, and an unnamed emotion tightens in his chest. He lingers, letting the feeling seep into him until he’s filled with it. He closes his eyes.

Yoongi knows he can’t guarantee his future. Hell, he can’t even guarantee the next five minutes. But, he thinks, as he picks up his things and leaves the studio, sending one last glance at the instrument, perhaps that’s alright, as long as he has this.

all rights reserved © exoticarmyofcrowns 2020

#min yoongi #yoongi #min suga #suga #bts suga #bangtan sonyeondan #yoongi fanfic #suga fanfic #bts fanfic #kpop fanfiction #myg #myg fic #bts #my writing

[softguks]

can you do one that's soft cuddles with tom after he gets back from a trip, please?

note: this is my first tom holland blurb, please be gentle and nice with me. i’m sorry it’s shitty

the airport is one place that she’s been to many times, being quiet familiar with the cold air that smells of mustiness and leather. her knee bounces up and down in anticipation, excitement being enough to keep her awake. her fingers curl around the cup of tea, something bittersweet that she sips on as she waits.

she waits, watching intently as the speck in the corner becomes a blob, and how the blob becomes a figure, and then a person, and then her boyfriend, her tom.

she runs forward, sprinting full speed into his arms and throwing her arms around him as she laughs gleefully, tears pooled in the corners of her eyes as she smiled up at him. his cheeks are rosy, hair messy and fingers warm as they dip into the swells of her hair.

“how was filming? did you trip and fall again?”, she teases.

“it was fun, my favorite part was probably the scene where i was shooting through the city and zendie was screaming her head off. it was hilarious, and no, i did not trip. i’m not that clumsy.”

“mhm.”, y/n mocks, giggling.

he notes the bags hanging under her sunken eyes, her skin that’s a tad too pale, her cheeks that are a bit too drained of their usual color, and the tiredness flitting in her eyes. her eyes are blank, fingers shaking as she musters a weak smile. he lets out a soft sigh, eyes crinkling in the corners.

“love...you haven’t been sleeping well have you? why didn’t you call me? why didn’t you tell me if you had a bad day?”

she looks downward, purposely avoiding the hurt in his eyes as she purses her lips together, recalling the nights of downing seven or eight shots of shitty convinience store wine, and drowning in her intrusive thoughts that soon turn to tears.

“didn’t wanna bother you. you were busy, tom.”

“‘m never too busy for you, and i’m here for you. i know it’s hard to open up, but i want all of you. the good, the bad, and the scary parts.”

there’s a hint of a smile that tugs on her lips, and even though she knows it probably won’t happen, she still nods, feeling a little bit better, mood lifted just by promising him.

“now, let’s go home and cuddle, hm?”

“now, that’s, something i’d really like.”, she grins, bumping her nose against his, as they walk out of the airport.

—

tom is a very affectionate person behind closed doors, showering his girl with love and soaking in the bits of rare privacy that are so delicate and delicious. she, is something he can never get enough of, always craving for, and he’s never happier than when he’s with her.

she sits next to him in nothing but pajama shorts and one of his t-shirts, oversized and engulfing her figure in cotton. her eyes are glued to the screen as his trail along he figure, watching the hem end at her thighs and the baby hairs unraveling from her bun.

“watcha lookin’ at, bub? something on my face? oh my god, do i look stupid?”, she’s wiping concernedly at her face as he chuckles.

“nothing, love. you just look beautiful.”

-

ah, this is my first tom holland fic and i feel like it’s too cheesy?? anyway, pls pls reblog and leave a comment if you enjoyed it! 💕✨

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[papichriscnco]

Chapter Twelve

Stella Velez- Christopher Valez's sister and Erick Brian Colón’s best friend- begins touring with CNCO but her tense relationship with Richard proves to be challenging for everyone on the tour. Richard and Stella do everything they can to get under each others skin but do they really want to upset each other or just to have each other’s attention?

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It’s 6am when Stella wakes up. She wakes up as Richard whispers her name softly, “Stella. Wake up Mamita.”

She groans softly in response.

“You should head to your room before Chris comes in here like he does every morning.”

Most mornings Chris was the first to wake up and he would interrupt everyone’s sleep by storming into their rooms and pulling their blankets away.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” She opens her eyes and rolls over. 

Richard is staring at her. He looks tired. They still have an hour or so to sleep before someone comes to wake them up. 

“I wish you could stay in here.” He mumbles lightly.

“Thanks for last night. It really helped me sleep.” She nods her head and walks off. 

---

“You look better today.” Chris comments as Stella makes herself breakfast.

“Hmm?” she asks, going down the food line at the hotel's breakfast. 

“You look better. Last few days you’ve seemed tired. Did you get a good night's sleep?” He asks as he toasts his bread in the impossible conveyor belt toaster. 

“Oh right.” Richard smiles a little next to Chris but it goes unnoticed by Chris and Stella. “Yeah I had a better sleep.” She lowers her voice; embarrassed that Richard can hear her say she had better sleep with him than previous nights.

“Did you do anything different last night?” Richard interjects teasingly. “You know like position the pillow differently, cuddle your toy or anything?” Stella can’t tell if when he says ‘cuddle your toy,’ he’s referring to Pooh Bear or him.

“Don’t think so.” She shrugs, her cheeks flushing red. 

“You should try remembering, that way you can do it every night.” Chris smiles.

“Good idea.” Richard smirks and walks off.

By the time breakfast is over, Stella almost explodes with the double meanings behind every word Richard speaks. She’s worried one of the boys will catch on and Chris will find out. She promises herself that tonight, she will try to sleep with Erick if she finds herself struggling. Chris and her haven’t slept in the same bed since he was 16 and woke up hard. It had nothing to do with Stella but both of them were so traumatised that they never slept in the same bed again. Looking back both of them laugh remembering how ashamed they both were but it doesn’t mean they will ever chance that experience again. 

“Do you think he’ll do anything tonight?” Zabdiel asks from the side for his cue to jump on stage.  

“I have a good feeling about tonight.” Stella smiles. 

She knows that even if Richard does try something, one of the other boys will be there to help her. Zabdiel runs to the stage with the rest of the boys and Stella waits for her introduction. 

This time when Stella and Richard dance it with as much passion as it was the very first time. Their bodies constantly move in sync but this time it’s as if they are connected through more then the memory of their dance. Stella and Richard have been closer since the last time they performed. A little more flirting, some stolen kisses and after last night where they shared a bed, it’s no wonder they are able to perform like this. 

For the first time since rehearsals, Stella and Richard make it through the whole dance without making any mistakes and as Stella stands in her final pose, her smile is beaming almost as brightly as the stage lights. Richard turns his head and notices Chris isn’t watching so he leans forward and kisses Stella’s nose. “Don’t say I never did anything for you.” He comments referring to the performance. 

Stella laughs and Erick wraps an arm around her shoulders. This time Stella stays for the chat they are meant to have one stage. 

“For anyone who doesn’t know,” Erick starts, “Stella is my best friend.”

“And my sister.” Chris interrupts. 

“And my girlfriend.” Richard states. All eyes move to him. They had strict rules, they were not meant to confirm anything. This would make it so much harder if they had to fake break up. Fans would be confused by their ability to stay close friends. The media would make up lies that Chris and Richard hate each other because of it. It was all a big no. Chris’ face burns red with anger and Zabdiel casually slings an arm around him. Everyone on stage knows Zabdiel is holding him back but to the audience there was a small amount of affection. “Well if you ask ‘Who’ Magazine she is.” He laughs.

Stella relaxes and the tension on stage disintegrates. “According to Who magazine, we are also going to break up soon.” Joel laughs.

“Rumors rumors rumors.” Stella makes a little ‘tsk, tsk, tsk,’ noise as she walks in the middle of the stage. “Is everyone liking the new song?” she screams changing the topic.

The audience erupts in cheers. Stella is grateful that the fans are so easily distracted by the next conversation. The boys chat with Stella a little more and Chris brings up her album telling the fans to stream it. Chris has always done his best to promote Stella and her music. Stella practically skips off the stage and into Hugo’s arms. “That went so well!” she gleefully jumps up and down. 

“We have a few more shows left of the tour, if all of them can go that well, your music will keep growing!” 

Stella waits for the boys to finish their set and they all jump on the tour bus to head to the next city. This time, the boys would share a room and Stella would have her own room.

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Tell me what you want to see happen!

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