#but i'm not sure if the style is clear from the pose alone

[fateisnotafactor]

Apparently I'm on a writing rampage today.

Pretty sure this is SFW, but if I continue it, it definitely won't be. There's some texting in here and I'll try to reformat it when I get home, just let me know if it's hard to read. (Part 2)

Shouta takes Hizashi out in the wilderness for some survival training and just fucking hunts him. Hizashi is spooked by everything, Shouta moves silently, sticking in the shadows. Hizashi flinches as a twig snaps from across the clearing. Oh, it's just a bunny. He starts to relax only to be wrapped up in Shouta's scarf, dangling upside down from a tree, and Shouta walks up chuckling and just gives him a little spiderman-style kiss before dropping him onto the ground in a tangle of scarf. "You're getting there. We'll try again next year, love."

Next year they bring a pretty little thing and hunt her together. How else is Hizashi going to learn to like the great outdoors?

Hizashi has had his eye on you since that Gala a few months back. You were a fan, so excited to shake his hand and take a picture with him. Shouta noticed how he perked right up, the way his hand slid down your hip as he asked Shouta to take one more, just in case one of you blinked. You blushed of course. Flattered that someone you looked up to was so thoughtful and not just doing the obligatory smile, click, 'move along.'

Shouta bumped into you at the grocery store a couple of weeks later and struck up a conversation. "Marshmallows? Chocolate? Graham crackers? Are you going camping by any chance?"

Well, what a coincidence. So were Shouta and Hizashi. It took a little bit of convincing for you to tell him where you were going, and all by yourself?

"Not to intrude, but would you like some company? It's not safe out there alone. There's been a few bear sightings in that area."

Not to mention that Shouta is an expert at wilderness survival. They had actually been planning on heading to that same park, just a little deeper into the mountains. He has a special permit since they're going to be setting up a summer camp for the students this year. Oh, did he mention that his partner Hizashi was a teacher too? Yeah, that Hizashi. Your favorite radio star.

Now that certainly piqued your interest. Sure, you'll have to make some changes to what you were going to pack, but since your friends backed out a couple weeks ago, well after you could rearrange your time off with your boss, having some company actually sounds like a lot of fun.

Shouta exchanges numbers with you, texting to make sure you had his, and then let you head home. He'll touch base later tonight after he tells Hizashi the good news.

Hizashi remembers you. Of course he does. As soon as you tagged him in the photo, he liked and commented saying that it was always great to meet a fan. He hoped it didn't seem too overly enthusiastic or out of the norm for him. He followed you back and scrolled through your timeline. You don't post much, or if you do, your privacy settings wouldn't let him see everything. Most of it is posts that you've been tagged in, and he has to be extra careful not to accidentally double tap to like any of these posts, especially now that he's a couple years back on your timeline.

You actually seem to enjoy the outdoors. He shudders as he sees you posing next to some beetle on a tree. The thing is absolutely massive. *Fuck.* He accidentally liked the post as he tried to scroll away from the infernal thing. But then you messaged him?

You: Heyyy, so Shouta kind of invited me camping with you. Are you interested in conservation efforts too? I saw you just liked that pic of the rhinoceros beetle. Don't you think it's a shame that people are still trafficking endangered species?

What's he supposed to say to that? He hates bugs, but you're trying to find common ground with him.

Hizashi: Yeah. Smugglers are the worst.

You: Right?! I'm so glad you're so passionate about endangered species too! I really hope we see some so we can add to the national count going on!

You're ... actually excited about bugs? Maybe if he says yes, you'll want to help him too? It's been a while since he and Shouta had a pretty little thing to go "camping" with. If he played his cards right, maybe this year he won't be the prey.

Hizashi: Yeah, I'd like that. Hey, how do you feel about survival games?

You: Like Minecraft? Haha

Hizashi: LOL

Hizashi: No

Hizashi: More like a more adult version of hide and seek tag

Hizashi: Wait not like that

You: Haha like that dangerous game story but for fun?

Hizashi: Yeah! Like that!

You: Can't say I've ever played that.

You: But I'm open to giving it a try

Hizashi feels all fuzzy inside, practically kicking his feet at the idea of you running through the woods, looking back over your shoulder to see him running through the trees after you. He knows he's nowhere near as graceful as he imagines, but for you, he would give it his all.

He looks up to find Shouta looking over his shoulder. "She said she's interested!"

"Mhm."

"Shou, please, please, please? She offered! She said she was open to it!"

Shouta sighs, unable to resist the look on Hizashi's face. "Fine."

"Yes!"

It was like Hizashi was a completely different man, suddenly rushing to pack his things for the trip. Something he had been putting off for the entire week, while Shouta was already fully packed. He pulls out your phone to text you.

Shouta: Sounds like Hizashi is excited that you agreed to come with us.

You: Oh that's great! I hope you guys don't mind me tagging along. I've never actually gone that deep into the park. This is going to be a first for me!

Shouta: Don't worry, we'll make sure you don't wander off and get lost. I've had to work plenty of rescues out there, and it sounds like you have some experience. It'll be fun.

You: I can't wait!!! Is there anything special I should bring? Extra water? Supplies? Heavier gear?

Shouta: Don't worry about all that, we'll have more than enough for the three of us. Just bring what you normally do and let me and Hizashi take care of everything else.

Shouta couldn't help but smile at how excited you seemed to be at joining them on their little annual trip. He'd be sure to keep an extra close eye on you. Figure out your patterns, your habits, your skill level. Hell, if they played their cards right, maybe you could be a recurring guest on their hunting trips.

He wonders how much of a fight you'll put up against them. Will you have to tap out? How long would it take for him to have you tied up all pretty, hanging from a tree? Would you celebrate with them afterward?

He pulls his lower lip between his teeth as he pulls up your social media. Tapping through to a friend's page who had tagged you. Well, well, well. Look at that.

He finds a album from a rock climbing trip you went on a few weeks ago, dangling off the side of a rocky ledge. Smile plastered to your face as you hang, practical upside down with no harness. You can't be far off the ground, but he can already tell that this is going to be more fun than he's had in years.

---

To be continued?

#aizawa shouta #bnha #mha #erasermic #erasermic x reader #shouta aizawa x reader #hizashi yamada #hizashi yamada x reader #primal play #quill drabbles #wip

[dandelion-wings]

Things I should have done today: chores. Things I could have done today: worked on any of my actual WIPs. Things I did do today: write 5k of loosely-connected and wildly wandering snippets of the AU where Fredrica raises Kaeya to marry Jean, omegaverse version, because my 2024 mood is that I can do whatever I want, forever, and today I wanted to do this. I tried to pack in everything @theabysscomeshome and I have kicked around for their teenage years, and almost (if not quite) managed it!

---

Today is a rare occasion: Mother is letting Jean go out shopping with Diluc, *alone*. It's the first time she's been allowed to spend time with him without Mother's supervision since Mother and Father divorced.

Okay, 'alone' isn't quite true. Mother insisted that she take Kaeya along. But she'd given Jean the purse, and told her she was responsible, and Kaeya is so quietly obedient that she can almost forget that he's there. And that the instructions Mother has given her about looking after him are identical to the instructions she used to give regarding Barbara.

Jean won't let him replace Barbara. It would be weird if he did, wouldn't it? He's going to be her mate someday, after all, and her husband, and so he can't also be her little brother--he's just someone under Mother's care, and anyone her Mother is responsible for, Jean is responsible for as well. Even if he's the alpha and she's the omega, Jean is a *Gunnhildr*, and he isn't yet. Won't ever be one the same way that Barbara is.

The same way that Barbara *was*.

Eager for a distraction from that thought, Jean slows in front of the bookstore, pausing to survey the display in the front window. The bright cover of a romance novel catches her eye: there's no question that the woman on the cover is supposed to be Vennessa, even though she's holding a style of sword that wasn't developed for another three hundred years and everyone knows that Vennessa preferred a claymore. She's holding that sword to the throat of a muscular, short-haired woman whose Lawrence insignia is half cut away, and while the pose is aggressive, the painter has put a look in both their eyes that makes it very clear who this romance is between.

"Are you going to buy that one?" Diluc asks beside her, startling Jean from her reverie.

"Of course not." Face hot, Jean tears her gaze away. Her mother would disapprove of her using the money she'd been given for any frivolous romance, but *especially* this one. No matter how compelling Jean finds it. The cover is so well-painted, that's all, Jean tells herself--it doesn't mean she would truly enjoy the subject material, not when a Lawrence is involved.

"There's a new book from Liyue about economics," she says, scanning the other titles on display. "That sounds educational. Mother would approve if we bought it."

She marches inside to do exactly that. Before she can get to the counter, she sees Barbara, browsing hymnals in the company of a nun.

"Big sister!"

Barbara flings herself into Jean's arms, and Jean instinctively hugs her close before remembering they may have an audience. Diluc won't tell, and the nun is smiling, but she still makes herself pull away. If Kaeya sees and tells Mother....

She can't make herself pull away immediately, though. "How are you? Are you making friends at the Church?"

"I am! I'm spending time with the orphans. None of them are as much fun to spend time with as you, though. I miss you a lot."

Jean feels a pang at Barbara's innocent words. Swallowing hard, she reminds herself that she should be mature about this. She can't encourage Barbara to continue to pine for her when they're always going to live apart. "I'm sure they could be, if you give them time to get used to you. If they're orphans, they're probably shy."

"But they're not *you*," Barbara says, tears welling in her eyes. "I really wish you were there. I don't know why you had to go away. And now you have a new brother-"

"He's not my brother," Jean says, fiercer than she'd meant, and hears a sharp little inhale behind her.

She looks over her shoulder to see Kaeya, whose expression flattens as soon as she looks, and Diluc, who goes wide-eyed and grabs Kaeya's hand to pull him away. Heat tingles in her cheeks. He's *not* her brother, though, she reminds herself again, defiantly, he's her betrothed, and that's a different thing. She didn't say anything wrong, or a lie.

"Oops," Barbara whispers, staring worriedly after them. "Is- is Mother going to be mad?"

"No," Jean says, though she knows all her perfectly correct arguments won't matter in the face of being told that Jean was talking to Barbara in the first place. Her stomach sinks at the realization that Kaeya has every reason to tell. Mother will approve of him if he tells, and disapprove of Jean, and if she hurt his feelings, even though that really shouldn't have....

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure." Jean reaches out and squeezes Barbara's hand, doing her best to give her a reassuring smile.

"Barbara, dear, I think I've picked out a hymnal," the nun says. "Why don't we leave Miss Jean to her own shopping and check out?"

"Okay," Barbara says, reluctantly.

Jean lets go of her hand just as reluctantly, with one last squeeze, and makes sure to nod politely at the nun. "Don't let me keep you."

The nun takes Barbara's hand and hurries away to the counter, while Jean goes and searches the stacks for the economics text she'd seen in the window. She finds a few simple books for Kaeya, too, ones meant for children, which means he can probably read them. Maybe Mother will be less mad if she can prove that she was looking out for him like she was told.

Diluc and Kaeya are over in the fiction section, heads bent together, whispering furiously. Jean doesn't know what they're talking about, or which book Diluc takes to the counter, cover tucked to his chest like he's hiding it, when she's done with her purchases. He has it wrapped in brown paper before he hands it to Kaeya, who squirrels it away in his jacket with a nervous look at her.

Jean pretends not to see, and doesn't tell Mother, either, when they get home. Either that makes him decide to hold his own tongue, or Diluc bought it as a bribe in the first place, because he doesn't say anything to her about Jean's encounter with Barbara in the shop. Jean is relieved and grateful enough for his silence not to ignore him when he tugs on her arm in the hall on the way to their rooms after dinner and evening drills.

"I'm not trying to be your brother," he says softly, looking down at the floor. "I promise. I know what I'm here for, and that is isn't that. And I know that family is important, even if you can't be with them anymore. I won't... if you want to see her, I can help."

Which is a ridiculous offer. His training schedule is even stricter than Jean's, and even if he had as much free time, he doesn't know anything about Mondstadt. But some of the resentment Jean has felt all day subsides at his words. She nods, and smiles at him, and Kaeya slowly, shyly, gives her a relieved smile back.

***

Once Jean is an apprentice knight, she has more money and significantly more freedom. Spending an afternoon out with Diluc isn't as much an occasion; the apprentice knights are encouraged to spend social time together, it's why they're given twice-weekly free afternoons, so Mother can't do more than make oblique comments about who she spends them with. And having Kaeya along hasn't been an annoyance for some time now.

It's sometimes a convenience, even, when Barbara also happens to be out and about. He's better than anyone at contriving the sort of brief meetings that even Mother couldn't object to, and better yet at finding places for them to talk without prying eyes and discreet methods to get them both there. Which even Barbara, by now, agrees is far better than his strategy of his first year in the Gunnhildr household, when he kept contriving to be injured just badly enough for Jean to have to take him to the Cathedral, but not badly enough for Mother to come along.

If he and Diluc tend to duck off on their own now and then on these trips, too, Jean doesn't have room to complain. It could be a good thing. Mother might not let Kaeya get away with possessive behavior, but all the romance novels she sneaks from the Ordo library make a point of just how strong alpha instinct becomes when other alphas get too close to their mate. If they're friends before Jean and Kaeya ever marry, then Kaeya won't have to wrestle with that instinct in the first place.

She hopes, anyway. She knows better than anyone else just how much Kaeya does wrestle with the instincts that puberty is stirring in him, and that Mother's strict standards aren't the only reason they make him upset. Not to mention just *how* much he enjoys spending time with Diluc on their outings, and why.

*'If you're something other than an alpha, the Church has ways to fix it,'* she'd whispered to him, the night she'd found him crying in the bath. *'Mother isn't so cruel she wouldn't let you, if you tell her what you really are.'*

*'First I'd have to know what I am,'* Kaeya had answered, his expression twisted up in ways she didn't understand. *'All I know is what I'm not, and they can't fix *that*. Besides, I don't plan to leave you in the lurch.'*

He'd looked desperate when he said that, despite his attempt at a smile. Jean could understand. Mother wouldn't stop him from seeking the Church's services, no, but if Kaeya wasn't what she wanted him to be anymore, the well-behaved alpha mate who wouldn't try to dominate the first Gunnhildr omega in uncounted generations.... He's not a Gunnhildr yet. She'd end her guardianship of him and send him to the Church to take a place amid their orphans, or if he was lucky, to live in the Ordo dorms as a rare fostered apprentice. He wouldn't be part of Jean's family anymore.

Jean is selfish enough not to argue with his determination. She doesn't want to lose him any more than he wants to leave. That means that if whatever he *is* under all the uncertainty is someone who can look at an alpha the way he sometimes, when he thinks neither of them are looking, looks at Diluc....

They aren't married yet. He isn't her mate yet. Jean doesn't mind looking the other way and pretending she doesn't see. She just wishes for his sake that Diluc was only pretending that he hasn't noticed.

Out of the corner of her eye she can see Kaeya giving Diluc just that look right now, while Diluc picks through the tailor's display of new Inazuman silks in innocent ignorance. Jean turns back to her own contemplations. There's a beautiful robe here, pale green patterned with purple cranes picked out in charming detail, that she can't resist reaching out to touch. The fabric is smooth under her fingers. She traces the line of a crane's neck, turns over the price tag, then sighs and pulls her hand away.

When she looks back again, Diluc and Kaeya are both watching her. She smiles at them, embarrassed, and puts her hands behind her back.

"Mother would disapprove, wouldn't she?"

"If she doesn't pay for it, she can't stop you," Kaeya points out. "Let her frown at you all she wants."

"It's out of my price range, anyway. I'm going to look at their hair ribbons. I could use a few new ones."

Diluc frowns, but Kaeya shrugs, turning back to the silks and commenting on one Diluc seems to have liked. Their voices fade behind as she moves across the store to the hair ribbons, and she doesn't see them again until she comes to the counter with her selections. They're just ahead of her, Diluc counting out mora as the clerk ties string around two tissue-wrapped bundles. Diluc hands the smaller one to Kaeya before smiling at her and stepping out of her way.

It's far from the first time Diluc has given Kaeya such gifts on these shopping trips. It's a generous gesture, but it's also an *alpha* gesture, a courtship gesture, the kind of kindness that has a weight from alpha to omega or alpha to beta that Diluc probably doesn't even imagine it has here. That it wouldn't, alpha to alpha, if Kaeya was the alpha that everyone thinks.

As soon as her ribbons are paid for, Jean follows them out of the shop, clears her throat, and asks, "Kaeya, can you go ahead to Good Hunter and put in our order? I'm getting hungry, but Diluc and I should stop at the cobblers and see how the new boots for the apprentices are coming along. The Grand Master will expect a report."

His eyebrow goes up, but all he says is, "Of course," before taking himself off.

"Since when is it our job to check on the boots?" Diluc asks her, baffled, though he's heading down the street towards the cobbler's even as he asks. "No one said anything to me."

"It isn't, but Mother will appreciate that we took the initiative. Besides," Jean adds, her voice dropping as they pass a fruit cart, "I wanted to talk to you alone. I think... maybe you shouldn't buy things for Kaeya anymore. I think it might be giving him ideas about- about what you want from him."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Jean doesn't want to confess Kaeya's crush for him, but she forges on with as good an excuse as she can muster. "Kaeya... doesn't like being in debt to people. And- and at your age- for alphas- some of the things people say to him about, um, about us, that he's mentioned or I've heard about- he might think he needs to pay you back a... certain way."

Diluc only looks more confused. "He doesn't have to pay me back at all. It's my allowance, and I like buying things for the two of you with it. He knows that. What way do you mean, anyway?"

"With- kissing, and things." Jean blushes furiously, as much at the mental image of the two of them kissing as at the other word she can't bring herself to say. "Like I said, I *know* people talk like that about... us, and his debt to the family, and he's said some things to me, so I just...."

"Oh. *Gross*. No. Why would I even want that? I'll tell him so," Diluc says firmly. "And if anyone's making him feel weird about it, I'll punch them. The same if anyone makes you feel weird about it, either."

Jean's stomach drops, but at the same time she feels a rush of relief. She doesn't want Diluc to hurt Kaeya, but it has to happen sooner or later, and better that it happen before Kaeya gets too many ideas. And this way, by blaming the gossip that she honestly has overheard, she doesn't have to give up any of his secrets to Diluc. She'll keep those safe, just like he does hers. She'll just keep this conversation secret too, while she's at it.

***

However he might feel, Kaeya is an expert at *pretending* to be an alpha. It actually helps, she thinks, that Mother has spent years drilling into him that he can't be overbearing with her. If he smiles and demurs instead of posturing, and slides his way sideways out of most attempted challenges, and doesn't say a word about anything Jean does when another omega might look to their alpha for approval, then people blame Mother and not Kaeya himself. Mother meets every criticism with a pointed reminder that all dynamics are meant to be equal in freedom-loving Mondstadt, and Kaeya meets any scorn with a smile and an exact echo of her words in a faintly sardonic tone.

In the meantime, Kaeya mimics everything that Mother wouldn't reasonably have stomped out of him with aplomb. Most of it, she can tell, Diluc has taught him. Jean doesn't know when he'd shared that particular secret, or if he even has--Diluc may simply think that he's counterbalancing Mother's repression--but he imitates Diluc's straight shoulders and fierce grin when he does have to accept a challenge, and Diluc's careful backstep to signal disinterest when he's introduced to a new omega, and Diluc's fashion of cupping his hands around her own when he gives her a gift.

Which he does now and then, now that they're dating. The dating itself is a gift, too, Jean is well aware. Kaeya's disinterest in omegas is just as real as Diluc's, and it encompasses her, isn't because of her, despite the public facade that's all that makes those other omegas believe it. But she hadn't been able to keep herself being wistful, this past Windblume, and it must have been so openly that he had caught it, because she'd found herself the recipient of a bundle of roses and the worst poem she's ever read, and he'd taken the calla lilies and heartfelt if clumsy lines of her response with a smile and a cheeky reminder that, as a captain, she could afford better than he could to pay for a dinner out.

It's the least Jean can do to thank him for bothering.

Now that they are dating, Jean tries hard not to look too closely at things she isn't going to buy these days unless she's very sure that he can't afford it any more than she can. This jewelry set, though.... It's ridiculous, heart-shaped earrings and a heart-shaped pendant, set with colored glass in exactly her favorite shade of blue. Mother would disapprove of how cheap it is even if the motif wasn't so childish. Jean couldn't possibly buy something so gauche. No matter that it's cute.

And Kaeya can't buy it for her either. Necklaces are symbolic in ways that Mother would *despise*, and this particular one, with the romantic motif, would be utterly inappropriate for an alpha to give any omega but their mate. Even one they're betrothed to.

"What are we looking at?" Kaeya pokes his head over her shoulder just as Jean had expected, leaning in close. Jean enjoys the press of his shoulder against hers, and the brush of his breath on her cheek; that he means nothing by it doesn't mean that she can't take pleasure in it, so long as she doesn't discomfit him by letting it show. "Oh, that's pretty."

"I can't imagine where I would wear it, though. Mother would have a fit, and it wouldn't be appropriate on missions. It wouldn't be worth the mora."

Kaeya sighs against her ear, and it takes all Jean has not to shiver. "You don't have to talk yourself out of anything you think you want too much, you know."

"I just don't want it that much, that's all. There's no need to blow things out of proportion. And don't buy me a necklace you can't give me," Jean adds in warning. "You know how Mother would react."

"Yes, I know." Kaeya chuckles and leans back again, and Jean fights down a pang at the loss of his weight against her shoulder. "Sister Barbara! fancy seeing you here. You wouldn't happen to know how Sir Taute is holding up, would you? Jean's been worried."

Which is, if not a lie, *mostly* an untruth--Jean knows Taute is fine--but she grasps eagerly for the excuse, turning to smile at Barbara. "Yes, I would like to know."

"Let's step aside, for her privacy," Barbara says, in a cue Kaeya has long since taught them both, and smiles back at Jean as she leads her aside for a private conversation.

It doesn't occur to Jean how much of a distraction that was until hours later, when Kaeya stops her on the front porch to cup her hand and set a small box into it. Jean opens her mouth to scold him, then closes it again when she opens it. She had only told him not to buy her the necklace, after all.

"I still don't know where I'll wear them," she protests, resisting the urge to clutch the little box with its heart-shaped earrings to her chest.

"You can wear them on missions if you pass the Grand Master's uniform test. Which you should ask to take anyway. Half of your earrings dangle, and I know you wish you could wear those more often. You'll pass it with flying colors if you do."

Jean swallows down a sudden surge of emotion and puts the lid very carefully back on the box before smiling back up at Kaeya. "Maybe I will. Thank you, Kaeya."

"You're welcome."

He leans down and brushes his lips against hers in a familiarly chaste kiss, one that sends a thrill through her nonetheless. Jean takes a deep breath, taking in the rich spice-edged fruitiness of his scent, which seems to grow stronger every day. Then she pulls back before she can give into the urge to try and coax more out of him than he wants to give.

She doesn't comment on the second box she feels briefly through his jacket while they're pressed close. Kaeya may be an expert at pretending to be an alpha, eschewing jewelry for more prominent displays of ornate clothes and ornamented hair, but he ought to be allowed to experiment in private without Jean's prying. All her dreams of buying him whatever he *does* like most founder on the realities of their situation, so perhaps it's better if she doesn't know what he spends his mora on when she's not there.

Just as she shouldn't dream of a necklace to go with the earrings, and a claim he wouldn't want to make even if he dared.

***

Mindful as she is of Mother's disapproval, Jean does take advantage sometimes of having her own money to buy things that she knows Mother would never have let her spend her allowance on. The romance novels in particular. It's been years since she's had to skim them quickly in the shop or sneak them out of the Ordo library. Now she can buy them herself, at her discretion.

As long as she has good enough cause. Mother may not object aloud anymore, but Jean can still hear her voice in her head when she indulges too frivolously in some luxury she doesn't deserve.

This week, what she doesn't deserve is a beautiful first edition, with gilt edging on the pages and the author's signature on the frontispiece, of one of her favorite romance novels. She already owns a copy of the book, so it's an utterly self-indulgent purchase, but she'd thought she might have been able to earn it for herself anyway if only her company had come first in the survival games Grand Master Varka has decided the Ordo needs to run.

Unfortunately, Diluc, as always, outdoes her. Very slightly--a handful more points on foraging, which would have been balanced out by her company's better score in scouting if he hadn't made it back to base camp a mere hour before her--but it puts her company in second place, while his is first, and second place isn't good enough. She doesn't need Mother to tell her that.

Mother tells her anyway. "You *cannot* let an alpha outdo you," she says through gritted teeth, an old refrain, as she paces back and forth across their front room. "No Gunnhildr can let themselves be outdone by their peers, and that only goes double for you. Every alpha in the Ordo is primed to dismiss you, whatever excuses they may give for it. That means that you cannot give them *any* to seize upon. We have been over this."

"If it's anyone's mistake, it's mine," Kaeya says, even though he should know better than to interrupt Mother in the middle of a lecture. "I was the one who fumbled the net and lost us all those fish."

"And you cannot let him defend you!" Mother rounds on them both. "Never, *ever* let him defend you. The moment anyone perceives you as hiding behind an alpha, it will be him they look to in order to win your obedience."

"Mother," Jean begins, because ill-advised as Kaeya's words were, she owes him her defense in return.

She never gets further. Mother has significantly more to say, first to them together and then to Jean alone, and afterwards she sends Jean out with the instruction to send Kaeya in. Half of what she says to him is audible through the door.

Jean knows that all this anger is on her behalf, that it covers up the fear Mother has always felt that people will look at Jean as lesser, will disregard her accomplishments because of what she is and how she was born. That doesn't make it any less cutting. She's still raw and smarting by lunchtime the next day, though she makes sure not to let it show when she dismisses her company for their meal and heads herself to the Cathedral on the pretense of checking on two of her knights who had been particularly foolish in the games.

If that route takes her past the bookstore, well, she can look, can't she? Even if it's sand in the wound?

Maybe it should be a relief that the book is gone. The bottom drops out of Jean's stomach, though, and the rest of her day is dismal, only made more so by the discovery that Barbara is in choir practice when she arrives and won't be out before she has to go. She goes through the motions with as much efficiency as she can muster and is grateful for her bed.

She's more grateful still when Kaeya slips in through her window. Mother stopped checking on them after bedtime years ago; Jean still doesn't know if that's out of trust, or because she has some concept of what she might find teenagers up to on their own, not that Jean knows if Kaeya can stomach touching himself in the same way she couldn't resist doing in the rush of all the hormones at that age. If she still does so after he departs again from these nighttime visits, well, she's only overwhelming the room with her own scent to disguise his, or at least that's what she would try to claim if he knew.

"You know I wasn't defending you as your alpha," Kaeya says without preamble.

"I know."

Jean doesn't bother ask if Mother believed him. She doesn't know what Jean does, and Barbatos willing she never will. Not until he and Jean are married, anyway, and Kaeya is a Gunnhildr whether Mother wants him to be or no. Jean is determined to insist that he can present as whatever he is, then, or not present as whatever he isn't, and never mind the Gunnhildr reputation. It will be as welcome to her as it is to him when he stops playing the romantic alpha she wishes for in public.

Kaeya sighs in relief, as if he somehow thought she might not believe him, and sinks down onto her bed. Above the covers, while she's below, but Jean pushes the quilt down a little to bare her shoulder and he nuzzles into her neck as if he's seeking her scent. His own clouds around her. Jean breathes it in and feels herself relax.

"Do you want-"

"*Please*," Jean says, her voice nearly cracking. "Otherwise I don't think I'll sleep at all."

He pulls his face from her neck and leans down to nip at her shoulder, well below the line of her uniform, where no one, even Mother, will notice a mark. Well away from her bonding glands, too, which Jean refuses to be disappointed by. She'll get what she wants once they're married, once, if probably never again, and until then this is kindness enough.

The pinprick of pain as his teeth sink in is soothed by the brush of his tongue. His venom sweeps through her, calming her almost immediately, relaxing her muscles until she's lying nearly limp on the bed. As soon as it eases her tension away, she can feel the exhaustion throbbing in her temples surge forth to start ushering her into sleep.

She's selfish, though. Kaeya is already giving her one comfort, and she still wants another, something pleasant to take into her dreams. They used to do this through letters, hidden beneath matresses and passed back and forth in secret during the day, writing answers before bedtime to titillate each other with their secret fantasies. But they're both braver now, if only with each other. All she has to do is ask.

"If you were a pirate-" Kaeya likes pirates, so much that she's fantasized sometimes about saving up to buy him a tame dusk bird, as if Mother would ever permit such a beast in her house "-and I was a stowaway you found in the hold, what would you do with me?"

"A stowaway, hmmm?"

"A beta stowaway," Jean adds impulsively. "Promised by my family to-" she yawns "-to a powerful mated couple in, hmm, Fontaine, whom I loathed enough to flee."

Kaeya props himself up on one elbow and cups her cheek, running his thumb gently down it. With his venom in her veins, Jean couldn't resist her shiver if she wanted to.

"Well, if *that* was the case, you'd be quite a prize, wouldn't you? You'd have to convince me that it was worth my while not to give you up for a reward...."

He starts to detail exactly how Jean might convince him in warm, suggestive tones. Jean lets his voice wash over her, and as she sinks into sleep, all her disappointment fades away. She doesn't need first place, or that book, or even Mother's approval. She already has everything she really needs.

***

Her future with Kaeya is so certain, so solid a factor in Jean's life that she doesn't realize how fragile it actually is until Mother, with one private meeting and the slash of a pen, throws it all away.

Jean is still reeling as she follows Mother home, her throat hoarse from shouting protests that went nowhere against the united wall of her and the Grand Master and the Seneschal, all furious in different and equally terrifying ways. Mother's fury is quiet, grim, and sharp, and leads her straight to Kaeya's room. She doesn't even seem to notice Jean right on her tail.

She tosses Kaeya's room with vicious efficiency, emptying drawers, flipping his mattress, digging into the back corners of his closet, and then circling back to pry at solid furniture and slit everything soft in search of hidden compartments and stashes. Which Kaeya *has*, as it turns out. Jean is only briefly shocked; she would have hidden some of this from Mother, too, if she'd had certain of his secrets, or even if she'd simply known how to conceal things as cleverly as he has.

None of it, though, is evidence. Mother's frustration mounts as she dumps out jewelry and hair ribbons, toys and harnesses that under any other circumstances would make Jean blush, and books with featureless red covers that even now do. She tosses a necklace atop the pile of earrings and bangles with a snort of disgust, not seeming to recognize the blue glass heart that makes Jean freeze in place, nor note that betraying reaction. While she turns back to the closet, Jean reaches out with shaking fingers and dares to snatch it up. Had Kaeya bought that for himself...?

The back of the closet is full of bedding that Jean knows no Gunnhildr has ever purchased. Most of it is the same shade of pale sky-blue as the necklace, just enough lighter than Mondstadt blue a proper Gunnhildr should prefer that the difference is obvious. None of it has the feather and bird motifs that Kaeya most likes, nor the diamonds that are his second-favorite; there's a duvet embroidered with fine white dandelion seeds blowing in an invisible wind, a scarf with orange tabbies, a pair of pillows with several increasingly pale shades to suggest clouds, a brown-and-green quilt whose interlocking blocks are, she realizes, in the shape of tortoises.... Mother tosses another piece upon the pile, a green silk robe decorated with purple cranes.

"This is nesting material," Jean says aloud, her voice scratchy in her throat.

"He had *ambitions*, didn't he." Mother's lip curls. "Let's both be grateful that his nerve failed before he got that far."

Jean swallows hard. Mother moves on to the closet's top shelf, where the red-bound erotica had been, and pulls out a few more books that she tosses out atop the pile with such carelessness that Jean nearly cries out in horror. All are romances, and every one is familiar, from the old and yellowing one where Vennessa holds a Lawrence at swordpoint on the cover to the fine leatherbound, gilt-edged first edition she hadn't won the right to buy last year.

Kaeya has never cared for romances. These are all to Jean's taste, ones that she had wanted and for some reason or another had never purchased. She doesn't remember the details, but she finds herself certain anyway that she'd either eyed them or mentioned them in Kaeya's presence.

A feeling is stirring inside her that isn't shock, or grief, or even horror. Jean realizes, staring at the hard lines of Mother's back as she jerks a hidden bag out from where it was tied beneath the wardrobe and pours out only mora, that it's defiance.

She takes a step back, then another, then turns and flees the room while Mother is still distracted. Nothing in there is going to be evidence. Not of Kaeya's supposed treachery, nor of the loyalty that Jean can't help but believe in. One way or another, she'll have to find her own.

Mother has discarded enough of Jean's family. She was a child when she lost Barbara, and powerless to act; now she's a woman grown, a knight and an officer, with a Vision at her waist and all the power of her recent promotion at her disposal. This time, Jean won't let Mother throw away someone she loves. She'll get Kaeya back.

#fic bits #(this could be a real fic if i wanted to expand it out more. but i don't. it's basically a fanfic of the au itself and i'm okay with that) #jean and kaeya run this city #memories of warmer days #(there is some confusion going on here re: cross-pollination of gender and sexuality that is deliberate btw #jean is a teenager whose entire context for both comes from romance novels and her mother's lectures and fears #so her understanding of things is... maybe not comprehensive and complete. regarding both herself and other people #it takes a couple of years past this but eventually they figure it all out together :> )

[russellius]

Do you think George and carmens relationship is pr?? Like they’re so cute but everything we see about them is posed and she was there hyping up a brand rather than just saying she was there for George alone? Idk they’re so cute together but there something I can’t put my finger on

decided to not answer this last night but

?? 💀 no i don't and can we please not engage in the carlos/lando/charles style wag talk. they've been together for 3+ years. the first time george actually posted about carmen was like 2 years into their relationship. i think someone should have informed them earlier of how this is supposed to work... lmao. for sure george has a certain old-fashioned pr style, but that doesn't make their relationship any less genuine*.

i'm not too interested in carmen, like, i mean the way i know some folks are obsessed with wags, but i'm not into the pointless wag slander either. those girls can't win. if she would only post about george then that would be the problem, because ew, she is living off him, and when she doesn't post, we get pr and break up rumours. let them live. the guy has been having the most difficult season of his career, he's been sick for weeks, (jobless people have discovered that) carmen might have left her workplace, i think they have more important things to focus on that trying to "prove" themselves to the public.

*also, they've also shared countless candid moments? but like?! they are under no obligation to share anything from their personal life that they deem not fitting for social media. everyone has different boundaries. it's clear that for one reason or another george <usually> prefers to keep it more professional on social media and that's something people need to respect instead of making up weird ass theories.

#also they're seriously cute together like? 💀 #answered

[tsukuyomiland]

It is not bad to use references for postures and positions, but usually, when you reference someone's image, drawing or photo you have to credit the original author for it. More when the ENTIRE PICTURE it's a virtually identical resemblance of the image. Thing that wasn't done when that picture of Carla Antonia was heavily referenced, to a point the image was it copied from was easily recognizable. Then it's not a reference, is a study.

This is not "referencing a hand". There was a clear intention of copying the movement, the expression and feeling of the image. The artist clear intention was to hope no one would know about the source material. And the main proof of it was that in any, absolutely any moment the artist mentioned the original drawing or credited the original artist. The artist simply thought "oh this drawing is so cool, I wish it had been my idea." For a person who is constantly making plagiarism accussations, she takes too many "references"!

"Use references" means use photos, of yourself or from the internet, not "copy a drawing". Make a clay figure to put it on different angles and get a view of how something can look from different points of view. I made one of Aaron's cape! I asked for pictures to a reenactor on Instagram to use as reference of Amaryllis' cape and asked for her permission to use her pictures as reference for moving long skirts for when she runs. Permission was given. It's not so hard!!

The pictures I use as backgrounds are mostly taken by me. I'm lucky to live in a city with a historical city center full of buildings and streets that can pass as old places. Also I took my own pictures in Toledo. Most postures and face expressions have been taken from pictures taken to myself on mirrors (specially Queen Genoveva) and my husband in costume (most Aaron Lencastre's action poses were taken from photos of him posing for me in a suit with a 50cm rule as a sword, I can show them) If I used any other image in the past I was being sure it was under a free use license. Some assets have been fairly purchased from the Clip Studio Assets store, which gives you the rights for use, others were modeled by me on clay. As I am a professional comic artist, I have talked openly to other professionals about what is licit or not to use on published comics. I know what I do. I have nothing to hide.

My way of working takes a lot from Shinichi Sakamoto's style and techniques for drawing. I consider him my master. I have also my own preferences, as I have my own style embedded in my workflow, as I can't duplicate it in any way. He has a ton a assistants and resources I don't have. I don't have a studio with replicas of the props I use. I don't have models and specifically made costumes to take pictures. I work alone, in a tiny workspace, and I had to sharpen my wits in order to get similar results with less resources. Of course I can't imitate it. I don't want to imitate it. But everybody started imitating the styles of their favorite authors, until their own style flourished. I want to reach a similar feeling of realism and beauty, in combination with my old, simpler style. I just decided I wanted a change, I needed a change, and that will of change helped me to get out of a well of sadness and distrust. There is nothing wrong in wanting to heal. The difference comes when you deny it. "Hey, your style ressembles this artist!" "Oh no, that's not true, must be a coincidence!" "Hey, this entire drawing has been straightforward copied from this other and you don't even credit the original artist or drawing with a clear intention of making it pass for your own creation!" "Oh, I was only a reference, how is so bad making a reference?" That's the wrong way.

My style reminds you of Shinichi Sakamoto? Well, I'm proud I can be even considered comparable by being recognizable. I don't hide it. I'm just in the stage of my art in which it still ressembles my goal. I want in the next years to continue evolving to the point I can reach a similar feeling his drawings inspire me. They helped me to heal, it's been a great part of my mental recovery.

Even if I imitate his style, you will find that I didn't copied a single panel from him. There is no single posture or position in any of his drawings I've copied or used as reference, except for a couple panels I truly had problems with, and I have no problem in admitting it, I can say which ones if I'm asked. I only studied his methods. The same way I have studied Riyoko Ikeda's.

Also the difference relays in the fact I don't follow this process because it's profitable (remember Sakimichan and the hundred of imitators of her style and themes who appeared then to cling to her monetary success) but because of an artistic aspiration, and my aspiration is for it to lead to an specific style. Art is constantly evolving and changing. Artist Celesse said not long ago that she lost her drive for art but she found it again when she radically changed her style and themes. This is something that usually happens. Sometimes you only need to break, you find a true inspiration that helps you get out of a sad situation. I clinged to Sakamoto's art to help me get out of my sadness. I don't hide it. I never had a purpose of hiding it. When people say "your style is like Sakamoto's" I don't get offended. I smile and say "I wish I could reach the height of his shoes" (a Spanish saying meaning I will never be as good as him). He is my inspiration, my master. I have found relief in it. Someday I hope I can reach a similar feeling in my drawings, no matter how long it takes. I will stay humble and honest in the meanwhile.

#polsterreich

[griba]

hello ^^ could i request a tango of the tek variety?

inspired by @blazevillains's yassified tango skin <3

ID: fanart of TangoTek (MCYT) salsa dancing by himself. He is wearing red eye makeup, a glittery red and white crop top with puffy white sleeves, red fingerless gloves, an asymmetrical flowy red skirt, and red high heels. End ID

#tangotek #hermitcraft #hermitblr #gri scribbles #described #anonymous #once i learn how lighting actually works i'll be unstoppable #actually wait i'm just now realizing the proportions ok . ok #tango #mcyt #forgive me for saying salsa dancing btw. iirc tango dancing is usually with partners ?? #but i'm not sure if the style is clear from the pose alone #what do i know i draw middle aged men in dresses

[gucciwins]

Leather and Lace

The one where Harry goes to the Grammy's and Y/N is his date

Word count: 4,960

A/N: Hello beautiful friends! Harry at the Grammy's just blew me away, the leather look is all I want to talk about for the rest of my life.

I was feeling inspired and decided it was only fitting to continue Adore You. Part two is Three Time following nominations. So this is part three. Yes, I have a soft spot for Harry and Atticus. Will always write for them if the inspiration strikes.

warnings: smut (female pleasure), pandemic

There's been one thought running through Y/N's head for most of the day, and Harry can tell because it's nearing five pm and she has not started on dinner. Instead, she's sitting on the backyard steps that give her the beautiful view of the pacific ocean, an empty glass of wine in hand.

Harry doesn't say anything, just sits next to her, knowing she will speak when she's ready, but he also knows she enjoys the quiet moments with him.

Y/N leans her head on his shoulder, letting out a deep breath before settling down the wine glass to wrap her arms around his bicep.

"You asked me an important question."

"Wasn't that important." He shrugs.

"Harry," No nickname making sure he knows she's serious. "It is important. You asked me to be your date to the Grammys where you're opening the show and are a three-time nominee during a pandemic."

"Well, when you put it like that." He teases.

Y/N and Harry made two years of dating on February 16. To celebrate, they had dinner from their favorite Italian food place with chocolate strawberries for dessert that Atticus made for them with the help of Mitch and Sarah, who were more than pleased to take him for the night. It was a beautiful day primarily spent in bed talking and enjoying each other, reminding each other how much they were loved and would continue to be as years went on.

Two years and their relationship has been well hidden. Honestly, Jeff has been impressed at how not one word has gotten out. This may be due to only close friends and family knowing about the relationship. Also that they spent almost one entire year inside due to this ongoing pandemic.

She's not worried about others finding out about her relationship with Harry; that isn't her big concern; it is what they will say about her and Atticus. Harry is a single dad to the world, and Atticus is his first priority, and everyone knows that; she does not want to be the reason they write about how Harry is a neglecting father for dating someone so openly. She fears the backlash and how it can affect how Harry sees her.

Reasonably, Y/N knows that won't happen and that Harry sees her as his life partner as he's told her on multiple occasions. Also, the assurance that Atticus gives to her by calling her Mum more openly around their family. The constant I love you's get her through it.

"I understand if you aren't ready, love."

"Don't think I'll ever be ready, but there are lots of times where I just find myself wanting to shout it from the rooftops how much I love you." Harry smiles, knowing he's felt the exact same way.

"Yes, I'll be your date to the Grammys." She breathes out after a moment of silence.

Harry sits up straight, shifting to make her look him in the eyes. "Yeah, you will?"

"I'd be honored."

Harry's smile is breathtaking, and the next thing she knows, his lips are on hers. It's passionate and full of thank you's because she knows how much this means to him.

He pulls back but not before pecking her lips twice.

"I'm going to call Jeff." Harry rushes inside, leaving her alone once more, but a sincere smile is left on her face.

Y/N said yes because even though a part of her wanted to say no, the urge to say yes won because to be there by his side holding his hand no matter the results win her over.

She says yes because as much as she may have wanted to say no, the urge to say yes and be there by his side, holding his hand no matter the results, wins her over.

Harry comes back ten minutes later, a bottle of champagne in hand, with his eyes shining bright as if he had already won the award. "Jeff said it's all set. He's going to be our third wheel for the night."

She laughs, knowing very well he loves when Jeff has to be around them without his wife now. Always teasing him, but also very happy for him.

"Pop that open then! Let us celebrate." They walk back into the house, getting glasses, when they hear small steps approaching them.

Atticus is thrilled at hearing the news about Harry performing at the Grammys. He got even more excited when he found out Harry was taking Y/N as his date. Told them that she would be the prettiest on the carpet, Harry had pouted, asking what about him. Only to agree when Atticus said no one's beauty compares to his Mum's.

Harry had asked Glenne to watch over Atticus, and she eagerly accepted. They let Atticus know, and he was over the moon excited. Atticus knew his Auntie Glenne had a hard time saying no to him.

In a different time, if there was no pandemic, Harry knows Atticus and Y/N would have been the perfect dates for what is supposed to be a joyous night.

Grammy day arrived, and Harry walked the red carpet alone.

It's something all three agreed on, not at all wanting to steal any attention when it was such a big debut for Harry. As much as Harry wanted photos with her, he knew this was the way to go; she would be sitting next to him for the rest of the night, which he was thankful for.

Harry felt comfortable and happy in his red carpet look. He was wearing a green and yellow check tweed jacket and a tartan sweater combo worn, flared trousers, and lavender boa. It was a bit different but entirely himself, and that's all he wanted.

As soon as he's done posing for photos, he has his mask back on and is ushered into his changing room to change for his performance happening very soon.

Y/N is waiting in there chatting with Sarah, and when Harry opens the door, he's taken back by her beauty. Yes, he saw her dressed at home, but she seems like a dream here in this new light. Y/N is wearing a lilac satin backless dress, a long slit going up her left leg. She's wearing gold heels that their wonderful friend Harry Lambert acquired for her. The gold primrose signet ring adorned her right-hand ring finger. A few more that she has gifts from her mother and others she bought for herself, but his attention is on the one he gives her because even as she is in a conversation with someone she's fidgeting with, she has the feel of it under her fingers.

"Clear the room, friends," Jeff announces. "Styles here has to get ready. We can start heading to the stage."

Everyone is up and out in a matter of seconds, Jeff shutting the door behind him, telling him he only has fifteen minutes.

More than enough.

"Are you going to help me or just sit there ogling me?"

She smirks. "If I help, there's no saying you'll get clothes on in time."

Harry feels a twitch in his trousers and knows she's right. He huffs, not bothering to argue, just throwing his lavender boa in her direction.

"I'll always accept a striptease."

"I should have had Jeff kick you out as well," Harry says, not meaning a single word.

Y/N pouts. "Not nice, H."

"Baby, please. No more teasing, not really a fan of going on television with a boner, especially in leather." Harry stops her before she can continue on.

"Alright, I'll behave."

Harry breathes a sigh of relief because he's always so close to caving in. She has that effect on him.

Y/N sits there, turned on by Harry changing his outfit. What she wishes she was home instead because watching and not being able to touch is absolute torture.

Harry shimmy himself into the leather pants wanting to get Y/N to laugh, and it works like he knew it would.

"Got a nice ass, Styles. Might have to take it for a ride."

Harry mutters a fuck, and she's giggling. "It's like you hate me."

"On the contrary, I adore you."

"Yeah, well, hand me the jacket, please."

Y/N gets up, the black leather cropped jacket in hand; she stands behind him, guiding him to slip in his left arm, followed by his right. It rests perfectly on his shoulders; she let her hands slide down his arms before turning him around and getting a good look at the completed fit.

She takes a step back as Harry reaches for the mint feathered boa slipping it over his shoulders before dramatically swinging it over his left shoulder. He poses a hand on his hip.

"What's the verdict?" He's biting back a laugh.

"I'm in love. You should ask for my help in designing a look more often." Y/N's gaze has not left his exposed torso. The butterfly fly tattoo starting back at her, Harry's a bit leaner, but he's never looked, fitter. Definitely, feel lucky she can run her fingers over his abs as soon as they get home.

"You recommended no shirt."

"And look how right I was. Your fans are going to go crazy."

"There's only one person I care about going crazy." He steps forward, pressing a kiss to her neck before trailing up to her lips. Leaving soft kisses, not giving her more, and she needs it. She needs him to push her up against a wall and just take her.

"Trust me, baby. I'm showing so must restraint right now. Fuck, you need to walk out now before you're late."

Harry smirks; he likes knowing the effect he has on her. She's the reason he's wearing leather, having confessed thinking he'd look really good. And right she was. "Need a good luck kiss."

Y/N nods, bringing a hand up to rest on the back of his neck, the heels adding a few extra inches making her aligned perfectly with his plump pink lips. She's gentle as she connects their lips; he wraps a hand around her waist before taking control of the kiss, slipping his tongue inside; she lets out a soft moan as he kisses her with all he has. Harry pulls away, a dimpled grin on his face. "Lots of luck in that kiss." a

She nods, still in a daze. "I'll be watching, baby."

Harry and Y/N walk out hand in hand, masks on as they find Jeff, who directs him to the stage entrance, a whispered I love you and a final kiss. He's walking towards the stage, greeting each of his band members lingering a second longer with Sarah.

Y/N was grateful she was allowed to watch the performance from a hidden side stage with Jeff by her side. Those three minutes of Harry singing, she was left in awe as she always is; he's got a way of capturing your full attention. She let out a gasp when Harry threw the boa and turned to have exposed his chest, a broad smile on her face. Jeff was trying to stifle a laugh next to her, and she knew he would be passing this information along.

She felt lucky to be loved by Harry.

As soon as Harry finished performing, Jeff ushered her to his changing room where she could watch the other performances as they waited for Harry to join them once more before going to sit at the socially distanced tables.

Harry came back, a deep smirk on his face, his mint boa now resting on Mitch's neck. "What you think, love?"

"You were wonderful; you and the band just killed it. I felt like it was my first time listening to it. Those note changes were beautiful." She hugs him, happy to have him in her arms again. "Get changed, not much time."

Harry nods, going to the clothes rack but comes back to give Y/N a kiss. She feels herself melt into his touch. She pulls away and sees his green eyes glistening. "Thank you for being here." Before she can respond, he's walked away and changing into his previous outfit.

Harry is dressed, and Jeff ushers them out. Harry leads, greeting people as they walk by, occasionally stopping for someone. Y/N falls behind, smiling at everyone from behind a mask, she laughs, remembering others can't see it, but hopefully, they feel it. She spots a women's restroom and grabs Jeff's arm to get him to stop. He turns concerned. She leans in close, letting him know she's heading to the restroom and will catch up soon.

Y/N is walking out of the restroom heading down the hall when she stops hearing her name called. She turns and finds it's her good friend Julia Michaels.

"Hi darling," Y/N greets a large smile hiding behind her mask. "You look brilliant." Julia was dressed in a black gown adorned with white patterns resembling seashells and her tattoos on full display. Y/N was in awe.

"Thank you! As do you." She says, pulling her in a hug. "Is that a bit of an accent I hear?"

Y/N laughs. "Don't know about that; I've been living in London for years now. Might be that I've been around my British friends constantly."

"That or-"

Julia is interrupted by a man calling her name. Y/N sees it's her boyfriend, JP Saxe.

"Ah, the beau is calling for you, it seems." Y/N teases.

"Oh bummer, I love chatting with you. I would tell you all about him, but I'd expect the same."

"What do you mean?" She feigns confusion, but Julia sees past her.

"Well, who's your date?"

She can feel her face warm, knowing exactly who she's referring to.

"I came with my boyfriend," Y/N answers proudly.

Before Julia can respond, Y/N feels a hand on her back and turns to find Harry behind her. "Calling for us to head to our seats, nominations up next."

"Okay, H." She smiles, knowing there was a look of concern for her hiding behind the mask.

Harry seems to remember she was speaking with someone.

"Hello, Julia, lovely music. This one always plays it around the house." Harry knocks his hip with Y/N's. "Especially this new song that's nominated, she always had it playing. Soon my son was singing it as well. It meant I had to join in. I don't like being the odd one out."

"Thank you, Harry; I'm glad you could all enjoy my music. We've been doing the same. Fine Line is a gorgeous album. Best of luck tonight." Julia tells him sincerely.

"You as well."

"One last thing between us."

"Of course," he nods.

"She's a special one; take real good care of her." Y/N has never been more thankful for a mask because it hides her face that she is slowly starting to heat up.

"I like to think I've been doing a good job, or she wouldn't have stuck around for two years so far."

Julia doesn't hide her shock, her eyes go wide, and Harry just smirks.

Y/N laughs. "We have been good at laying low. Except for this one, he likes to always be doing something new."

"What can I say? I like to keep busy." Harry shrugs, knowing everyone knows about his next film in London.

"Now we definitely have to grab dinner soon or a zoom date, I don't know. I want to hear all about it." Y/N can tell Julia is curious but overall happy for her.

With that, they bid each other goodbye, and Harry escorts her to their seats.

"Someone is very open," Y/N tells him, adjusting her dress as she sits down.

"She's a good friend of yours but also Niall's. I know we can trust her." Harry tells her honestly.

"I see. We'll see how interviews go soon." Y/N knows Jeff had told them he had to do at least one interview if he didn't win, and if he did, it would just be him addressing the virtual press room.

Harry is sitting in the middle, Jeff to his left andY/N to his right. He's never felt as safe when they name the nominees for the category.

Y/N feels the tight grip Harry has on her thigh, and his left hand is rubbing up and down his pants to dry the sweat she can only imagine is building up. She looks up at his face, but he's calm, but she knows him; there's a storm of thoughts running through his head. Y/N knows there isn't much to help ease, but she can remind him she's there for him. She lifts his hand that was resting on her thigh to her lips and gives it a gentle kiss through her mask, yes he can't feel it, but the sentiment is there. She sets his hand back, fingers now intertwined with hers. Y/N knows he's looking at her and meets his gaze reassuring him with his eyes she loves him.

Rachelle Erratchu is opening the envelope, and in the next few seconds, she will announce the winner for the best pop solo performance.

"Watermelon Sugar, Harry Styles!"

Harry sits there shocked, his shoulders dropped, eyes wide, not at all able to hide the shock. He just heard his name called; he just won a Grammy.

In the next second, he's standing up, removing his mask, his nervous smile now able to be seen by the camera. Jeff is quick to pull him in a tight hug. Y/N stands feeling the happiness travel through her entire body.

Harry won.

A mask is no longer hiding his smile, and she knows if she removed her, she'd have a matching smile. Harry hugs her tight, her arms going around his waist; she can feel how fast his heart is beating. Harry is not at all ready to let her go but knows he has an acceptance speech to give.

"You did it, H," she whispers, ushering him to head up the stage.

Harry gets up, letting out a deep breath as he hears the applause continue. He picks up the Grammy for a second before setting it back down. He looks out at the audience, and he's just astounded that he's won.

"Wow, um..." Harry takes a deep breath before starting. "To everyone who made this record with me, thank you so much. This was the first song we wrote after my album came out, during a day off in Nashville. I just wanna say thanks to Tom, Tyler, and Mitch, and everyone, Rob Stringer, everyone at Columbia, my manager Jeffrey who always nudged me to be better and never pushed me and thank you so much, and I feel very grateful to be here." He smiles at Y/N. "Thank you to my son, who has been the light in my life and my biggest fan. Everything I do is for him, and I hope I continue to make him proud. I love you, darling boy." Harry knows he's got only so much time left, but there is one last person to thank. He doesn't address her by name, but everyone in that room knows what he says next is for Y/N as he never takes his eyes off of her.

"Thank you for believing in me. I was not the easiest to deal with when we first met, but you're here and have been every step of the way. Thank you for helping me become a better man each day. I adore you." He chuckles, continuing on, "All these songs are fucking massive, so thank you so much; I feel very honoured to be among you, so thank you so much."

Harry walks off stage, leaving the grammy he had just won behind, eager to have Y/N back in his arms. His eyes are set on her; she's standing arms open, ready for him. He melts into her touch, hiding his head in her neck placing a gentle kiss on her exposed neck. "I love you," he whispers.

Y/N softly cradles his cheek as he leans into her touch, her eyes filling with tears of joy. "I love you, H."

Harry pulls away, letting her take a step back as Jeff hugs him tighter than before. He's so happy he places an affectionate kiss on Jeff's masked cheek.

Harry's happy; he knows he didn't need an award to let him know how talented he was, but it was an honor to have his support team by his side as he did receive the award.

Harry had taken Y/N with him to help change, claiming he needed help. Jeff knew better but let them be.

As soon as Harry ushered them into the changing room, he pushed her up against the locked door, ripped his mask off, shoving it in his pocket, kissing down her neck.

Y/n reaches a shaky hand up to remove her mask, letting it fall in Harry's waiting hand to place next to him.

"Kiss me," she breathes.

Harry, never one to deny her, brings his lips to hers. Y/N felt her whole body tingle as he claimed control over her mouth, hungry and intense as if she'd disappear if he would slow down.

Y/N laughs as her hands rest on his shoulder, letting him kiss all the skin she has exposed.

"Baby, you're a Grammy winner." A hand now in his hair as she feels his lips right above the curve of her breasts.

"Just like you."

"Atticus must be so proud," Y/N says, now lost in thought.

Harry pulls back, "As much as I love our baby, please don't mention him as I'm trying to shag you in my dressing room."

Y/N grins nodding, she pushes the plaid jacket off his shoulders, letting it fall on the floor. "Sorry, did you say shag? Is that Grammy fame getting to your head?" She teases

"The only place my head is going is between your thighs." His voice rough, no longer teasing. She can see the lust building in his emerald eyes.

"Guess I'm the real winner," Y/N tells him, pushing up her dress to reveal her black lace panties, Harry's favorites.

"Fuck." Harry trails his hands down her thighs as he sinks to his knees.

Y/N holds her dress up as Harry begins to pull down her panties, letting them fall to her ankles. "Those are too hot to be hidden, baby. Fuck, knowing you had those on the whole time for me has me so hard." He unbuttons his trousers giving himself breathing space.

"Please, baby," Y/N begs, wanting him to give her some kind of release.

"Alright, darling, since we don't have much time."

Y/N has her legs spread open for Harry; her face was flushed, knowing the pleasure Harry would soon bring her. She was wet; she had been since she saw Harry perform in his whole leather outfit; she swears this look will enter her dreams when he's away.

"Love, you're so wet." He smirks, knowing this was for him, but a bit of confirmation never hurt anyone. "All-cause of me?"

"Yes, always wet for you." She breathes out, looking down at him.

Harry leans in, pressing soft kisses on her thigh, getting her to relax, wanting her to enjoy this as much as he's going to. He loves how soft her skin is; he litters kisses as he watches her, still feeling how close he is to where they both want him to be.

Y/N feels like she can't breathe; Harry's teasing always so good but not now. Not when she wants him inside her, but she settles for him eating her out. He's proven more than a dozen times how good he is with his tongue.

"I'm ready, darling. I'm ready to taste you, fuck, you smell amazing, but oh, there's something special about how you taste. Will you let me?" Harry asks, always asking for her consent, never wanting her to feel pressured.

"Yes, please." Harry always knows what she needs; she's happy to relinquish all control to him.

Harry tightened his grips on her thighs, scooting closer. He smiles at how glistening her pussy looks for him. How wet he's made her. He didn't have time for foreplay as much as he wanted to tease her have her withering under his touch. He drove right in, his tongue in between her lips, tasting her sweet juices. It was good, sweet, and just for him.

Y/N let out a moan; Harry wanted more from her; he wanted her a moaning mess. Y/n felt his tongue against her most sensitive spot and felt her knees go weak, fuck; he knew exactly how to bring her the pleasure she seeks.

Harry's eyes were closed, focusing on the noises Y/N was making and savoring the taste.

Y/N has a hand in his hair, her right hand holding up her bunched-up dress. "My winner," she moans out.

"You're always a winner. Fuck, so good." She pants.

"You are….baby" Nothing's making sense. She's lost in her pleasure. Harry was focusing on her clit; he licked at the small peek, knowing she was close.

She pulls harder on his hair, he lets out a moan against her pussy, and it brings her twice the pleasure. "Make me cum, baby." She whines, "Show me exactly why a song about oral sex deserved to win."

Harry, edged on by her words, begins to suck on her clit, letting her feel the ecstasy it brings her. Y/N lost in her pleasure, misses Harry's cursing against her.

"Harry, I'm close." She whimpers out.

"Cum for me, darling." He doesn't slow down, lapping against her pussy, taking everything she gives him. He sucks on her clit, swirling his tongue around as he brings a finger to her hole, gently pushing in, knowing it will drive her over the edge.

"Fuck, you're always a winner. This mouth is always a winner."

Y/N whines out his name, pulling him closer as he licks up all she offered him, letting her ride out her orgasm enjoying every moment. Harry pulls his hand away, setting it on her exposed thigh, drawing small comforting circles, until he's sure she's ridden it through.

She lets out a long sigh as she slides down the door, no longer able to stay standing. Harry grins, guiding her down gently as he sits back on his heels.

"Can I return the favor?" She blinks at him, lust still swimming in her eyes.

Harry blushes but not at all embarrassed. "Watching you cum for me did the job, baby."

She pouts her lips.

"Can treat me to a good time later," he promises; she eagerly nods, already knowing how she'd make him go crazy at him. The taste of him on her tongue later, something to look forward to.

"Think this was the reason you had a third outfit picked." She jokes,

Harry laughs, "Definitely."

Y/N and Harry sit there staring at each other, blissed out in pleasure, taking in the other's smile when a loud knock on the door startles them reminding them where they are.

"When you walk out of here, there better not be a single trace to what you did in there," Jeff tells them.

Harry smirks, "oh Jeffery, who does he take us for?"

Y/N is helped to her feet by Harry, who slips her panties back up her thighs. Y/N walks to the restroom to fix herself while Harry washes his face at the sink provided. Harry is quick to get out of his clothes and into the final outfit of the night. An orange blazer with a white low-cut shirt and plaid pants.

He's ready to step back out and mingle, showing off his girlfriend to everyone who approaches them. Harry stands in front of the mirror looking at the deep red mark on his neck where she left a love bite; he doesn't even remember her giving it to him.

She smirks, seeing him trace his finger over it. Y/N walks up to him, placing the black-feathered boa over his shoulders.

"I could get behind the feathered boas if it means I can leave more kisses like that behind," Y/N tells him as he swings it over his shoulder, adjusting it to hide the mark that would bruise over the next few hours.

"We'll see, love."

Y/N stands in front of the mirror, adjusting her dress. She smooths her hands over her dress, happy with how she looks. Not at all like she was just given the orgasm of her life. Harry smiles, grateful she was here with him on an important day. He loves her, and he knows she loves him.

"Ready, love?" He stands being her, hand on her waist

She turns her head up to look at him, puckering her lips, waiting for a kiss that Harry happily gives her. "Now, I'm ready."

Y/N and Harry walk hand in hand, masks on.

Harry may not have won any more awards, but he truly felt like he had won it all way before ever hearing his name being called. With a woman like Y/N on his side who was intelligent, beautiful, and independent, constantly pushing him to be a better person every day, there was no way he would ever know what it would be like to lose.

Thank you so much for reading! I adore you. Hopefully, the future allows me to write for Harry, Atticus, and Y/N some more but for now I hope you enjoyed this continued story. <333

#harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles fan fic #harry #styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles au #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles blurb #harry styles smut #dad!harry #harry grammy #adore you #three time #my writing!

[rumblelibrary]

Now that you are writing requests, I think it's only fair I send you a few after some of the ones you have sent me 😌 as you've said you were the original anon who requested Laszlo x Sapiosexual partner headcanons from me, I'm curious to see how you would write it. Take it in any direction you want to 😘

Thinking Alike [Dr Laszlo Kreizler x Reader]

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Mention of physical violence, mild stalking, smut (yup, there it is!)

Author’s note: My first smut, something easy breezy to begin with. Laszlo is an awkward mess and I love him.

It was embarrassing for Laszlo at first, to admit a weakness, so bluntly. Such a vile thing to do for a man like him.He tried reasoning through it more and more, lonely men went often to prostitutes, John himself did and with the extraordinary result not be devoured by syphilis or other diseases.He didn’t hurt himself nor others in the process.

The first time he met you it was by accident, he was invited by one of his former patients to visit her at her university, nothing unusual, he remembered her well: Julia, shy, small, bent down and backwards by a family that abused her very being, that abused her mind, development and growth.But to see her now a young woman, studying literature at university, thriving in her life and taking her own choices, she even started an internship with Sara, that was something that made a man like Laszlo proud of his job.

Briefly: that day was a success for him: from the meeting to the lunch they shared, she showed in every given moment how she treasured everything she learned at the Institute and, even though hard times were not over, she felt like she was able to face them.Then Julia asked him to join her to listen to a lecture, assuring he would love it so he obliged as it wouldn’t be too bad to feel like a student again and maybe spark some new interest in him.So he did, he sat down and leaned his back on the seat, the soft scent of the woody desks and chairs taking over his nostrils. He remembered how he was at that age, hungry, unnecessary aggressive and lonely. He smiled to himself at the memory.Poor John, still there to look after him and trying to give him a minimum of social skills.

Then the room fell into silence as you walked inside, your choice of clothing a white shirt and a burgundy skirt, a pocket watch on your side. A simple style, you wish good morning to the class and don’t indulge too much into talk.And there is where the unexpected happened.You open up simply, a picture, a quote. The description of man as William Blake: poet, engraver, prophet.To transcribe your words would be similar to the conflict of any man that ever found himself in the duty of writing, or better, transcribing a sacred text.The way you spoke, the way you held everybody’s attention, the way you moved back and forth or wrote on the chalkboard. The passion surging by your words digging into his flesh and bones, every cell into his body surging into an agonising desire to hear more. The way your words balanced, how you managed to go from interesting facts to more detailed ones, from hard critical informations to conceptual ideas.That was the beginning of something new, his brain wasn’t able to move past the thought of you. Literature wasn’t his field, but he felt like you were the spring of all truths. So it begun. He brought the books, he came to the lessons. He thrived in every stolen moment he got with you, he sulked when somebody caught your attention, even more if it was to make some silly comment or question, he adored the way  your hands traced shapes into the air symmetrically, it triggered him to wonder if you ever studied dancing, the pose of your fingers always so balanced. He learned every micro habit you had: the way you always looked at your pocket watch when it was almost half time throughout the lesson, how you changed pin in your hair every day, the way you tucked your reading glasses in your shirt only to then look for those when in need to read. His favourite moments were the ones when everybody was leaving the class and he could see you relax on the chair, gift little smiles around as you collected our belongings. Your presence was by now his safe place, those two hours he spent a the university were the only moments he felt free, even if unseen.

Until the day he was getting into the class to find it empty and you alone there.“Regular students got a card saying the lesson today was cancelled” you said and his heart sunk into his chest “I would be mad to have someone sneaking in my classroom, but I had the feeling to have seen you before”

He gulped down as you were so close by now, he could guess your favourite perfume.You handed him a book, his book with his picture inside followed by his name in cursive letters.

“What does an alienist says about my course?”

“I say, your dialectic is what many of my patients would need in order to survive”You were surprised, eyebrows raising and a slight tilt of the head, you expected to find him guilty and ashamed, surely he was, but that answer was bold.

“And you? Do you find solace in my dialectics?” He took a moment before staring up at you, you didn’t realised how tall he was by seeing him always sat in the back, but you noticed him at every lesson. How couldn’t you?An handsome, elegant grown man hiding among those twenty something, the walking stick giving away always his calculated late entrance in class, his eyes always on you digging holes.

“Constantly”His answer surprised you, you expected to confront him and send him away and now you’re torn between the feeling of cradling him in your arms and, what? “I could forgive you for a lunch” He smiles, his eyes shining “I know the perfect place”

That lunch became one of many lunches.Every time you had lesson he would wait for you and you’d share a meal.To open up to him felt almost too easy, but he was an alienist, that was his job. He also opened up with you, you shared books, and interests and long chats. He wrote you cards and you wrote back to him, he sent you his articles and you sent him yours. He asked for books to introduce children to literature and you visited the Institute helping him in the task in exchange of some entry level books about psychology. Lunches became dinners, long walks became longer, soft smiles became him offering you his arm to walk together. You were starting to develop some tenderness for him, you always wondered what he was thinking and what he would opinion over this or that, you craved to confront your opinions and Laszlo wasn’t feeling any less drawn to it.It was beginning to become difficult when you started to visit him in his dreams, he would dream of you in ways he didn’t dare to speak up about. Only the way you talked when you grew passionate about something gave him a sense of tension, a deep desire going through him as he touched his thigh with his sweaty palm to ground himself. You felt like he was growing distant, unaware of how he was growing somehow closer. Closer to the point he couldn’t resist you anymore, hide behind simple touches of courtesy, to feel your hand only when gloved, stare at every little stand of hair move unruly on your neck while you spoke so highly of any topic. It was unexpected the time, while sharing some impressions on a recent article, he put his  hand flat over the page and leaned in capturing your lips in a sudden but awaited kiss. You kissed him back realising how such a simple gesture meant so much to you. Your hand followed up resting on top of his still hiding the page from you. His lips soft, his beard tickling you lightly as your eyes shone.When he pulled back, only because in need to breathe not else, he looked at you but you smiled at him brushing your nose lightly against his making him break into a smile.  The happiest smile.

“Do you even realise how foolish is that?”

“Are you calling me a fool?” He growled at you. Yes, he followed a potential murderer across the city, got himself beat up, but he was alive and now he got more informations.

“I dare to say I am, loud and clear Laszlo”He frowned deeply, you calling him a fool?

“Take it back”

“No” “I said” he grunted as he breathed heavily through his nostrils  “Take it back” You never saw him this mad but you didn’t oblige his request, he made you sick worry and hid all this madness of crime cases from you through all this time, not even once he mentioned this …what? A hobby? Desire for adrenaline? “A man that doesn’t stand up to his own truths is a fool to me” you said coldly “all this time spent to talk about nonsense and you’re working on solving crimes? Who is the man that I know then? Does he exists only when Dr Kreizler is without a case? There’s even a real interest in what you ever said to me? Or you just needed a distraction?”

“Don’t you dare to contradict me, I am no liar”You smirked, by now he was close, almost threatening even if you know well he wouldn’t ever hurt you. “Then what are you?” He froze, his eyebrows furrowed, what should he tell you? That he loved the way your brain worked? That every time you bounced ideas back and forth he felt aroused? That you provoked in him a thirst for more, more knowledge, more passion, more life. You let out a breathy chuckle as he didn’t answer now, you were sad and disappointed. You indeed believed you had found your match and not another double faced man.You picked your coat and left his office even if your heart was shattering on the inside and begging you not to leave like that.You spent two weeks apart, two weeks in which his spot in the classroom was empty, both of you ate alone, walked alone, lived alone. An emptiness that was so heavy it felt like the sky would break under the weight of it. But he couldn’t think of you, the case was on, the victims were falling one after the other, and yet he couldn’t think clearly. Before just thinking of how you’d think helped him, but what about now? He couldn’t reach for you. You were right, he hid part of himself to you and he couldn’t ask you to risk your life or spend nights and days exploring the dark sides of human nature, even though your sensibilities and introspection would have made you the most valuable asset in any research. He locked himself in his office getting high on tea and pacing the room back and forth talking out loud trying to gain back the process you two formed together, the chemistry, the balance of thoughts. Until your voice reached to him. “What if it is not anger the motif?”You leaned against the doorframe staring at him, you gave up your anger.  You were there for him. He stared at you like he wondered if you’re even real. “How did you come in?” “I said I was from Miss Howard” “So you can also lie” You chuckled “Only for a good purpose” You moved inside closing the door behind you as you took off your coat and hat, you moved closer to him offering him your hand, palm up.He stared at your eyes, there wasn’t much to add.He put the eraser in your hand as you cancelled the chalkboard from all his previous work. What happened next was pure magic, clarity spreading through the space, every fact double checked by the two of  you as now the facts spread in order, clear, in a linear way, nothing was left to causality.You two closing each other’s sentences, you handing him books and him handing others back to you, papers, scattered pencils.Even you wearing his glasses by accident and handing those back as you reached for your own.It was a frenzy, a dance, a song. “So if this is a scheme…” you begin “…the killer will strike again on Friday” he concludes. You stare at him, a big smile creeps over your lips wide, you can save a life, it is only Monday now.He leans in holding onto your hadn’t with his left hand, but you’re just mimicking him as your lips collide. “How can you be like this? How can you be so perfect?” He groans against your lips not able to part from yours but to praise you. “We are” you correct him “we are perfect, together” he nodded slowly as you were completely right. He let you pull him on the sofa where he slept so many nights when he was too tired to go back home, a very cold and empty home. He took his time, he stood in front of you undoing those clothes he so carefully studied during your lessons almost to the point to know each item of your wardrobe. As you undressed him you realised how you never minded his arm or to help him undo his shirt, you found it poetic, you always found beauty in him, you saw it like a punishment due to something more special given to him.The poet Homer had to be blind in order to sing the war of Troy, Laszlo had to lose an arm to be able to see through others. So there you were, completely deprived of your clothing as he still conserved his bottom half, staring at each other’s eyes before he leaned his forehead against yours, shifting angle then to meet your lips with his. “Don’t, I waited enough” you whispered to him as his left hand between your legs to caress your folds with his fingers triggering a shiver down your spine. “I am the doctor here” he murmured as his fingers moved so smoothly over your slit gathering some wetness and spreading it together before pushing a finger inside you.

“I also am” you whispered back, voice shaking, even if a doctorate in literature doesn’t give you much of a position in this moment while standing helpless with him fingering you so nicely. “I know, it makes you even more beautiful” he assures to you digging his head in the crook of your neck nipping and sucking over your skin slowly adding another finger.You whined not able to move away from his fingers teasing your insides, and yet not what you were looking for. You pared your lips in a silent moan as he shook your hips making you grind slowly following his touch “I don’t want to play Laszlo” you begged “we have all the time to fool around, I missed you too much” “You can’t always use your words to boss me around like this” He smirked as he pulled his fingers slowly out of you, too slowly for your taste, he did it like you had all the time in this word, his fingers brushing over you inside, slowly slipping out covered in your wetness only to trace your clit with their tips.

He pulled back sitting down on the couch like a king on his throne, parted legs and back slightly slouched, while staring at your naked form in front of him moving his left hand to undo his pants as you approached. “You’re a vision”His whisper slowly pulling you in when you straddled him once his erection sprung free slowly guiding him to brush against your entrance. You looked up at him gulping softly before lowering yourself onto him. You stared at him as his eyes fluttered closer and you shook your hips a little trying to reach for the most comfortable position, he was thick stretching you deliciously and that little hint of pain only making it feel more complete, more needed, meant to be. A moan leaving your lips as you gasped for air, his weak right hand moving to rest on your thigh.You observed him as the desire was clouding your usual reasonable and efficient brain, his left hand grasping your hips when you begun moving on top of him. The pace erratic at first before the instinct kicked in, no more witty remarks needed here, you couldn’t make up your mind now.He groaned, his soft gasps and growls being the best sounds along with your moans, two reasonable intellectuals now lost into the simplest and most natural of the acts.Your hips yanked and lost control for a moment as his hand moved to touch your clit “So sensitive” he cooed, you were a mess of feelings, his head bowing down over your chest grasping your nipple between his lips. He teased and sucked, making all his fantasies real, finally touching and feeling you, your shivers due to him, your pleasure and pain completely in his hands.You gasped as he sucked too hard, he seemed to know you more than he knew himself and maybe it was true. He spent so much time watching you, studying you, indulging in every little reaction you had. His eyes dropped down between your joined bodies, he was mesmerised by the shapes your hips were tracing, just enjoying the view of himself sinking inside you filling you up completely, your wetness so evident making the whole process terrifically easy.

“You’re close” he sentenced “you’re so close” If you weren’t close you’d be after he said you were, like he decided it.His left hand leaving your clit as he wrapped his arm around your waist pulling you down over him. Now it was up to him as your mobility was restricted, he begun moving his hips up holding you down, he kept going so hard slamming inside you as he held you still with just that arm, the pleasure that his ruthless moves caused to you doing the rest. You couldn’t hold back any more, your moans getting lost into throaty sounds as your orgasm washed over you. 

But he wasn’t done, he kept going as you rode down your orgasm until he tugged you down one last time filling your body, a little yelp of pleasure leaving your lips as you got so full of him and your eyes fluttered lightly because of such a raw basic feeling, that fullness that was proper of a basic instinct you felt rooted into you. If you were reasonable and aware you’d be worrying about things like consequences and having to talk about the future. But you weren’t any close to it.You rested against him gathering air back in your lungs as he moved his hand on your lower back  slowly moving it up and down, his right hand’s thumb brushing over that same thigh in the smaller and sweetest gesture of attention. You shifted slightly after few moments to look at him slowly touching over his cheek with your fingertips. “Truth for the wise, beauty for the heart” He said, paraphrasing Friedrich Von Schiller, an author you used a lot in your lectures. “Truth for the wise, beauty for the heart” you repeated. That little motto became your code, the way you reminded each other the duality you were blessed with: your bright minds and your unfiltered passion. And you’d use it from time to time. You’d write it to each other’s notes. It was your “I love you” before the love word was even pronounced.

Tagged @cazzyimagines @lieutenantn @handmaiden-of-mischief @thesunflowersutra Let me know if you want to get added <3

#dr laszlo kreizler #dr laszlo kreizler x you #dr kreizler x reader #laszlo kriezler x reader #laszlo kreizler fanfic #laszlo kreizler x y/n #laszlo kreizler fanfiction #laszlo kreizler x you #laszlo kreizler x reader

[bunnyywritings]

bubbly s/o opens up about trauma pt. 1

bakugou katsuki & shouto todoroki x gn!reader

word count: 1.8k

requested by anon: Katsu, Sho, Izu, and Eiji headcanons to their bubbly, and sweet crush, and close friend, opening up to them about being abused by their parents growing up? They've gotten therapy and are living with their Grandparents but sometimes they get upset when someone brings up parents or asks about the scars from abuse. They tell them they shared this with them because they refused to lie to them. They hug him close, thanking him for being a good friend. -Morp

[a/n: i hope you don’t mind that I’m doing it in parts anon! i ended up doing scenarios for each one, i'm a bit rusty so i apologize if this isn't very well done. you can read part 2 [ here ] ,thank you for requesting sweet heart! here you go! - yours truly, bunny -`ღ´- ]

TW: mentions of parental abuse & scars, nothing explicit but implied

To an extent, he always knew. Maybe not the specifics, but whenever you were alone and thought no one was paying any attention, you’d let your guard down. The metaphorical sparkle in your eyes would dim, your shoulders would slump as if you were taking a break. Then someone would approach and in the blink of an eye, the sparkle was back and the familiar grin on your lips was present once again. Despite what others may think, Bakugou was a good friend.

He worried about you. A lot.

That may be due to the fact that he has a huge crush on you, but it was unlikely. He values your friendship so much. He’d rather have you as a friend than anything else, really. That was mainly his insecurity talking though. He just thought he wasn’t good enough for you. No one was, really. But that’s besides the point.

He had never explicitly said anything about his feelings for you but he didn’t need to. It was quite clear through his actions. Well...clear to everyone but you, that is. Even Aizawa had caught on. And he couldn’t care less about his students’ love lives. He’s had his fill of teenage angst and drama.

During training, he’d always make sure your water bottle was full or during lunch he’d keep an eye out and make sure you were eating. Sometimes he’d even give you extra pieces of meat from his plate, or if he had veggies he knows you like, he’d wordlessly place them into your rice bowl.

Now this wasn’t one sided at all. You also had your ways of looking out for him.

If you were doing a convenience store run with Sero and you saw the particular snack that Bakugou likes, you’d instantly grab a few. For his birthday, you had gotten him custom earplugs for quirk training. It had been after you and him were paired to spar against each other, he always insisted on not holding back against you out of respect, and you had experienced one of his full blown attacks head-on. Your ears were ringing for about half an hour before you could somewhat hear again, and even then, everything was a bit muffled.

Needless to say, you were worried about his hearing

He scoffed and rolled his eyes when he unwrapped the box. Scolding you for wasting money on something he had no use for.

He always uses them though. Especially when he’s doing stamina training, and it’s explosion after explosion.

Anyways. He notices your strange behavior, one day. You stopped trying to keep up the façade and you were sort of gloomy all day. He was absolutely pissed that no one had noticed the change, and he’d yell at them later for it, but he kept his cool and waited until he could be alone with you.

It had been around 8pm, just an hour before his bedtime, when he made some tea for the both of you and carried it up to your dorm room. He paused in front of your door, looking down at both his hands, a mug in each one, then looking at the door handle. Realizing he won't be able to physically open the door by himself, he awkwardly bumped the door with his elbow.

“Hey idiot, it’s me. Open the door.” He grumbled quietly, frowning when you hadn’t responded. Before he could repeat himself a little more aggressively, the muffled sound of your sniffling made his stomach drop. Panic rising throughout his body as he made up worst case scenarios in his head.

“(Y/n), seriously. Is everything okay?” All attempts to sound calm failed as his voice betrayed him, trembling the slightest bit.

On the other side of the door, you started to panic. Furiously wiping any evidence of tears or snot from your face before you slumped over to the door, turning the lock and tugging it open to reveal a frowning Bakugou. He wasn’t upset, he was worried. It was evident in his red irises.

“Here. Drink it before it gets cold.” He handed you a mug before walking past you and into your room. He admired the decor everytime he was in there, no matter how many times he had seen it already, it never failed to make his heart warm. You had a wall full of pictures of yourself with your friends. There were a few solo photos of your friends as well. Most were candid shots, there were a fair few of him.

It always reminded him that beauty is indeed in the eye of the beholder. You cherished those candid photos because in your eyes, when your friends were carefree and themselves, no poses, no facade, that’s when they were their most beautiful.

He took a seat on your bed and patted the space beside him. Nudging the door shut, you made your way over and got comfortable.

“What’s up with you today? You seemed...not yourself.”

You didn’t respond, opting to take a sip of your tea. He knew there was something up and he wasn’t gonna push you. So he leaned back and got comfortable, waiting until you were ready. It was a solid three minutes of silence before you took a deep breath.

“I-I don’t want to lie to you, Katsuki. It just wouldn’t be fair so uhh, yeah. Here goes.” He could tell that this was overwhelming for you so, wordlessly, he put down his mug and held his hand out to you and you grasped it, like it was a lifeline.

And you told him.

You told him about the abuse from your own parents. He felt his blood boil as you showed him a few scars inflicted by your parents’ quirks. You explained that it was the anniversary of the day you ran away and went to live with your grandparents, and how you had been seeing a therapist on the regular since then.

It pained him to see you struggle through the tears, hiccuping a few times as you attempted to catch your breath. You didn’t even have to say it but he could see it, it was an all too familiar feeling to him. He tugged you to him, letting go of your hand and pulling you into his chest, his arms wrapping you up in a warmth that made the stinging tears return.

“You know, this doesn’t make me think less of you. You’re not weak. Those bastards don’t realize how bad they screwed up. You’re strong, and they’re gonna regret every goddamn choice they’ve made when they see how far you’ll go.”

“Thank you.” You whimpered as you gave in to the new wave of tears, hooking your arms around his shoulders. “Thank you…”

If anyone asks, no...he wasn’t crying. (He was though.)

If anyone was familiar with the signs of abuse, it was him. 

It hurt him so much knowing that you had gone through what he did, maybe not to the same extreme but you had experienced it nonetheless. 

He admired you though. Despite whatever happened to you, you were always bright. Always in a good mood and always choosing to see the good in people. He knows that he didn’t have the strength to do that. Maybe eventually, but not so soon. He had never wanted to pry. You guys were friends, practically best friends and he trusted that you’d tell him when you were ready. 

To his knowledge, no one knew. No one mentioned the way you’d flinch around sudden movements or when someone raised their voice. Honestly, it was a wonder that you had even befriended Iida. He was the epitome of loud and sudden. Always waving his arms around at the randomest times and always shouting to chastise someone for breaking a rule. 

He noticed that you tended to cover up your torso often. Never really wearing anything more revealing than a normal t-shirt. Even on the class trip to the beach, you insisted on staying covered up. No one questioned it, chalking it up to insecurity. Even during training when everyone had to wear their gym uniform, while others undid the top part and wrapped it around their waist, being clad in a tank top or sports bra, you had always kept it on. Even when it was extremely hot. More often than not, he found himself resting his palm against your forehead to cool you off. 

It hadn’t been very hot, but Aizawa decided to run everyone ragged with combat training, so everyone was partnered up. Todoroki had been partnered with Denki and you had been paired up with Eijirou.

As he sat with his classmates, watching the two of you spar, he was quite impressed. Not that he doubted your skill but both fighting styles were drastically different. Eijirou and his quirk relied on close combat while your quirk worked best with long-range. He could see the frustration on your face when Eijirou kept charging towards you and engaging in hand to hand.

As the fight went on, Kirishima had hardened his forearm and hand, kinda like a makeshift blade and as he took you down, he had accidentally cut the top of your gym uniform. As the dust settled and the both of you got up, the tear in your clothes allowed the whole class to see your back and shoulders, skin littered with scars. All were different in size, color, severity, etc. 

Everyone was stunned silent, not having expected anything like this. 

“(Y/n)...what happened?” You could feel the breeze on your back and the pity in Kirishima’s eyes made you angry.

Everyone suddenly snapped into realization. Various questions of; ‘who did that to you?’, ‘where did those come from?’ and whatnot were shot at you from different directions. He could see you slowly being overwhelmed by everything. His heart dropped as he made eye contact with you, your eyes tired and filled with tears. 

“That’s ENOUGH!” Everyone froze and looked at Todoroki with wide eyes, his voice booming.

Sensing the tension starting to rise, Aizawa sighed. 

“Alright everyone settle down. Training is over, get back to class. (Y/n). A word.” 

Reluctantly, Todoroki followed the boys into the locker room and changed into his school uniform.  When everyone was out and he returned outside to the training grounds, you and Aizawa weren’t there so he had gone back to the locker rooms. He knocked and called out to you. 

“Can I come in?” He heard a meek ‘yeah.’ So he carefully made his way inside. 

There you were, dressed in your school uniform and sat on a bench with your face buried in your hands, shoulders shaking. 

“(Y/n)...” He gently placed a hand on your shoulder, he winced when you looked up at him. IIt ached him to see your beautiful eyes tainted by tears. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner Sho…” Your bottom lip quivered. 

“Please, don’t apologize.” He opened his arms. You stood up and basically collapsed into them, clutching onto the back of his blazer. “Just always remember that I may understand more than anyone else will. I’ll never judge you, you know that right?” 

“I know…It’s just, ugh-” You pulled away and wiped the tears from your face. “I don’t want anyone to change how they look at me because of what my parents did to me and when everyone saw, and they were asking all of their questions, their eyes...they were just full of pity.” 

“Then look into mine.”

And when you did, you didn’t see pity. 

You saw admiration. You saw belonging. Love. Understanding. 

“Nothing will ever change with me, (Y/n).” He pressed his forehead against yours, “I will always be here for you.” 

#anon request #bnha #bnha x gn!reader #mha x gn!reader #mha #shouto todoroki x gn!reader #bakugou katsuki x gn!reader #shouto todoroki x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #angst #comfort

[bucky-at-bedtime]

Stucky Fic Recs

So basically I went through all of my ao3 bookmarks and collated a list of some of my favourites (I couldn't fit all of them on this list, so if anyone shows interest there might be a part two).

Please read tags and descriptions of the works before reading, some of them are pretty dark or extremely horny so just make sure you check that the fic is for you!!

Please please please send me your favourite fics in return! I am always happy to hear fic recs, headcanons and any other ideas/comments you all have!

Without any further ado, here are a few of my favourite Stucky fics:

‘Not Easily Conquered’ series by dropdeaddream, WhatAreFear

Rating: M, Words: 117,692

https://archiveofourown.org/series/115516

“I told you, you heard me: I told you never to follow me into Hell. Now I’m not vain enough to think that’s why you’re out here now — if there’s any person in what’s left of this God forsaken planet who’s part of a bigger picture, it’d be you. But I’ll keep saying it until it sticks. You got nothing to prove. I’m not worth much, I damn well know that, but I’ll ask you anyway: Stay for me. If you leave me alone in this world I’ll turn into something terrible. I’ll turn into the nasty creature that’s growing inside me. This war, it’ll swallow me whole”

[To me, this fic is like the classic Stucky 101 fanfic – if you're a Stucky fan and you haven't read this, I highly recommend it. The authors explore the Steve/Bucky relationship in such an interesting, tragic, emotive way and I cry every time I read it. I couldn't praise this work enough.]

‘Ain’t No Grave’ series by spitandvinegar

Rating: M-E, Words: 131,789

https://archiveofourown.org/series/426577

"Yeah, he never calls me by my name," Steve says. "It's always champ, ace, hotshot, that kinda thing."

"Man, that is flirting," Sam says. "That nicknames thing, he is flirting with you. He's just working his way up to calling you baby or something."

Steve goes redder than a damn coke can. Sam pumps his fist. "Yes, I am so right, I am wise as hell. He did, didn't he?"

"He called me sweetheart," Steve says grimly, "because he's a drug addict with brain damage."

"Or because he looooooves you," Sam says. Captain America throws a cookie at his head. Sam eats it, because he deserves a treat for being so damn wise.”

[I'm currently re-reading this fic and absolutely loving it. The way spitandvinegar writes Bucky's road towards recovery and Steve's entire characterisation – it's all just so good. It's another one that covers some pretty dark themes, so make sure you're checkin those tags!]

'Einherjar' by thecommodore_squid

Rating: M, Words: 71297

https://archiveofourown.org/works/7157024/chapters/16249814

But Steve was fine.

Sure, he hadn’t seen Bucky in months, and sometimes he was at the punching bag so long that his skin started to peel off to expose the bones of his fingers, and sometimes he couldn’t find the energy to drag himself out of bed, and sometimes he went weeks without sleeping, and sometimes he thought about throwing himself head-first off the nearest tall structure, but he was fine.

He was absolutely, perfectly, one-hundred percent, fucking fine.

AKA In which Steve learns how to deal with his shit, and Bucky learns how to stop leaving.

[basically the definition of a recovery fic, I absolutely adore it. This is tragic and amazing and makes me cry and smile. It’s got a bunch of fantastic cameos and It really just ticks so many of my boxes.]

‘Like real People do’ by 2bestfriends

Rating: E, Words: 67,775

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19887376/chapters/47103217

“"Ask me what?" demands Bucky. "I didn't hear a question."

Steve licks his lips. "Will you stay with me? Will you come back home, Buck?"

"Home," repeats Bucky in a small voice, and then he's crying for real.”

[Basically soft lumberjack!steve and lonely twink!bucky being horny and in love. This is a comfort fic for that’s really just about my favourite boys falling in love.]

‘This City Bleeds it’s Aching Heart’ by anonymous

Rating: E, Words: 34,537

https://archiveofourown.org/works/835829/chapters/1591736

“The one where Steve and Bucky pose as a happily married couple while on a mission for SHIELD, to catch an international arms dealer hiding in a suburban neighbourhood.”

[The plot in this one is just a good time and i think it’s just a really fun take on the fake relationship trope. Also some really great characterisation.]

‘Home is Wherever I’m With You’ by cydonic

Rating: E, Words: 88,570

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18868081/chapters/44783077

“Bucky kisses Steve and Emma goodbye before they leave for school, which is why – partway down the road – Amelia turns to him and asks, “why are you and Daddy kissing?”

Which is definitely a conversation Bucky’s been expecting since Steve just did it, but it still takes him by surprise. Again, he thinks he should wait for Steve, but Amelia’s not the sort of kid to let anything rest. Plus, Bucky’s taking her to school where she will undoubtedly share the story with anyone who’ll listen.

He also stops to think that Steve’s asked him to stay, which means Bucky must be trusted with their happiness and well-being, at least in some small capacity.

Bucky clears his throat and searches for some explanation that will help Amelia make sense of this sudden turn of events. “Because we love each other,” is all he comes up with.”

[Bear with me, this is a House Flipper!Bucky Au. And dad!Steve. I just love a found family trope I’m not gonna lie to you. Another comfort fic that warms my lil heart.]

‘Lucky Seven’ by BetteNoire (WeAreWolves)

Rating: E, Words: 94,364

https://archiveofourown.org/works/7033105/chapters/16002481

“Back from where--?” James says, the sentence ending in a distinctly undignified squawk as Steve sweeps him up in his arms, bridal-style, and starts carrying him upstairs.

James tenses momentarily then relaxes into Steve's arms and throws back his head and starts laughing. The laughter peals out of him, his body shaking, his amusement occasionally broken by little gasps of pain.

“What's so funny?” Steve frowns.

“You are,” James says, still giggling. “You're ridiculous, Steve Rogers.”

“Behave. Or I will drop you,” Steve growls.

[The shrunkyclunks modern AU of my dreams featuring Mechanic!Bucky and cap!Steve and some really beautiful writing.]

'Dishonor On Your Cow' by mandarou

Rating: E, Words: 111695

https://archiveofourown.org/works/10659162/chapters/23589582

“Sergeant Barnes?”

“Oh, hell no, don’t call him that, man,” Sam warned.

“Captain Fuck Off!” Barnes shouted over him. “Fight me!”

Steve didn’t know whether to laugh or just slink away. He managed to combine the two by pacing two steps and snorting instead. Like a bull.

“I’m gonna need you to calm your ass, Barnes,” Sam said as he went limp again, obstructing Barnes’s struggling under him. “This is so undignified. That is Captain goddamn America.”

“Captain goddamn America!” Barnes repeated, louder. And angrier.

Steve cleared his throat again. “I’ve been looking for you,” he told Barnes.

“I hope you brought lube this time!” Barnes shouted.

[I’m not gonna lie it took me a minute to get into this one but by the end I was crying with them, laughing with them, and just really in my feels. Some very insane things happen so here’s a few of my favourite tags: ‘Seargent Barnes is done with your Shit Steve’, ‘blatant disrespect of a man’s motorcycle’, ‘Steve you ding dong’ and ‘PR nightmares in the form of Supersoldiers’.]

Propietary Information by Notlucy

Rating: E, Words: 85141

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11964402/chapters/27054777

“Okay, so Bucky Barnes has a crush on Steve Rogers. The guy's gorgeous, talented and, oh yeah, the Chief Design Officer of the biggest tech company in the world. In other words: he's so far out of Bucky's league that he might as well be in a different stratosphere.”

[We were never gonna get through this list without a Sugar Daddy!AU (I have a weakness). This one is… saucy and sexy and sweet and uh pretty kinky so read the tags and all. I’ve read it a few times, and I love the way the author has written Steve in this one, he just makes my heart go '!!!']

‘Roots Have Grown’ by AustinB

Rating: M, Words: 17280

https://archiveofourown.org/works/6912451/chapters/15767941

“Bucky is a mildly agoraphobic veteran with funds to spare, who becomes enamored with the cute blonde guy in his building.

So when Steve mentions needing a roommate to cut down on rent costs, Bucky decides it would be a good idea to volunteer.”

[Another weakness of mine is Roommate AUs, and this one is phenomenal. I tend to go for post serum!Steve stories more often, but this is a pre-serum Steve that I just adore.]

‘The Cold Never Bothered me Anyway’ by icoulddothisallday

Rating: E, Words:75562

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11728869/chapters/26425530

“Bucky Barnes has spent his whole life in a state of mild hypothermia. Steve Rogers has spent the last 70 years in the ice. The two things aren’t related until, suddenly, they are. Shrunkyclunks soulmate AU (AKA the awkward bb au).”

[I think this is the only soulmate AU in my bookmarks? I would totally be down to read more though! This one is really fun and really enjoy Bucky’s characterisation here!]

'War, Children' by Nonymos

Rating: E, Words: 106615

https://archiveofourown.org/works/5373050/chapters/12409394

“After Bucky was released from the hospital, it only took him a couple of weeks to give up on himself. Difficult to believe in any kind of future when the simple act of staying alive was almost too big an effort.

Out the frosted window, across the street, there was a tiny homeless guy burrowing under an awning.”

[An interesting exploration of Bucky’s PTSD with a trans!Steve which was a cool take on his character too!]

'The Company You Keep' by orbingarrow

Rating: G, Words: 51191

https://archiveofourown.org/works/3468605/chapters/7613072

“Hurt, hungry, and on the run, the Winter Soldier doesn’t have a lot of safe options to go to for help. Figuring that any friend of Captain Steve Rogers is unlikely to be HYDRA, Bucky takes a chance and reaches out to the first Avenger he can find.

It works out better than anyone could have expected. Eventually.”

[hurt/comfort, recovering Bucky, protective Steve, found family and domestic avengers, need I say more? I absolutely loved this one]

#stucky #stucky fics #stucky fic recs #fic rec

[starlightervarda]

Hey ,i am so sorry you had to go through so much pain and harrassment because of lgbtmazight. You are not alone, there are many others like you in this fandom and outside this fandom who were harassed by this person. Its just so sad this person and her 'i am not racist' friends have made so much antisemitic, racist, xenophobic and "many other" offensive comments and were able to get away with it because of the massive following they had. And when I say massive following, i am pretty sure there is no brown or black people in it. Cause what kind of POC (who have gone through actual shit) follow a white person who preaches about race and talks like they know better than you. This entire racefaking issue is so messed up because people who got harrassed by her never got and will never get half the support and care she gets now.

The entire people in the discord in which she is a mod of is prevented from reblogging or getting involved with post about her whole racefaking issue. Wow!! What kind of discord does that? Are all these people in this discord sock puppets? Does someone have to tell them whats good and whats bad? I pity these people who are silent and supporting her.

Its funny her bff supporters are still posting "cute tropes and fics about joe" , and are silent about the fact she used racial slur on marwan kenzari. Its disgusting. They dont get to celebrate joe, when they can't call out the racist who used racial slur on him!!

Again I am so sorry about all the trauma you had to go through. All i can do is say that you have my support, love and hugsss!!

Thank you, nonny

It is severely disgusting the amount of support she got, that no one from any of the groups she's lied about belonging to, ever or will ever get.

This is why I'm certain that her friends knew that she was lying. You don't spend months in groupchats with someone who talks as much as she did, and goes into (lousily researched, stereotypical, offensive, hilariously illogical) detail about her ~life's story~ without picking up on the huge inconsistencies, or not having personal conversations.

This again, goes back to my point that she claimed to be Muslim/Mediterranean/MENA while the actual people who are those identities got hostile treatment from everyone that was up her ass and smugly used her words as permission to attack others on the basis that disagreeing with her was 'racist'.

It was suspicious at first, but now it's an admission of guilt. None of them claimed to be shocked / horrified / disgusted / hurt by her being exposed. They either closed their inboxes or vanished to avoid being held accountable, or are brazenly continuing on as they were, defending her, threatening people and going on anon to harass me and everyone that suffered thanks to them.

This was a plot cooked up by some of the worst people to sow discord and dominate a fandom, while chasing out all the people who posed a 'threat' to her status as the Token and the Only Source on shit she never cared to even Google.

Oh, and apparently her besties are defending her on Twitter, claiming that this dissertation of all her lies, taken from her own accounts, is false so they can downplay her being a tankie genocide denier. That and apparently she also racefaked being an Asian American to have power in a C-Pop/K-Pop fandom???

They don't care about Joe, or anyone that resembles him. In fact, they really seem to despise him, and Nicky and anyone from their part of the world. They've made that very clear. She saw Marwan Kenzari in that gifset styled like so many MENA dads - including my own - and her first thought was 'I'm gonna call him a racial slur to be cute'. If she said that on her blog, imagine what else she's said in her servers with her defense squad?

All he is the excuse they use to attack others, and show-off how Woke and Totally Not Racist they are. Because trying to hold them accountable got you accused of everything they were doing, and have harassment campaigns sicced on you and character assassinations like she shit she posted on Twitter about myself and nizarnizarblr -- by the way, her besties spread a rumour that he was a racefaker because he disagreed with her. Accusing others of being what you are must be their favourite pastime :))))

Seriously, that was the purpose of Helene's brownface: a carte blanche to be as racist, xenophobic, antisemitic, and openly share monstrous beliefs like blood libel, genocide denial, praise for dictatorships and systems that have caused the suffering and deaths of millions. Because she, and they know, that if she did this as the Rich White French Woman she truly is, she would have been run off the site.

Anyone in that Discord you mention is a coward and an enabler at best and a supporter of everything she and her friends have said and done at worst.

What kind of a bullshit excuse is this? I've cut off years of friendship for 1/4 of what Helene's done, and they're kissing the feet of this sociopathic stranger to remain in a shitty server? GO JOIN ANOTHER ONE, YOU SPINELESS DEMONS!

Seriously, what the fuck do they mean a mod 'banned' them from reblogging a post -- that proves she has spent over 10 yrs being and doing everything you claim to be against? What is wrong with you that you find this acceptable and would rather remain in a server run by her than leave and support her victims? Shove your head further up her unwashed French ass, why don't you?

Everyone who knew her knew she was a fraud, and I refuse to believe anything else.

The reason the Racefaking Tankie Defense Squad is not dropping and denouncing her is that they hope that, if not enough people reblog that post, people will forget and she can continue as she was. This must be why she's neither deleted her blog or changed that URL, declaring herself 'lgbtmazight', when she is no such thing. They hope to reestablish their chokehold on The Old Guard, if not another fandom, riding on the fear, respect and specialness of all her faked identities and bullshit stories of suffering.

They care more about the status and power she afforded them than any of the people whose skins she's worn and the others they've hurt.

This post, along with all the others @lgbtracefaker have posted, need to be boosted. People are still reblogging her racist shit as 'informative posts from a trusted source', have her listed as a 'sensitivity reader' and have had their view of MENA history and culture shaped by this overprivileged racist French woman.

Thank you again for the support and the tip-off about that server. I wish I had a list of the people in there so I could block them.

#this fandom is a fucking nightmare #lgbtmazight #tog #the old guard #marwan kenzari

[harmoni-me]

hi! wanted to tell you that i absolutely love your writing skills, it’s so different from the others that i've read and it makes me feel so warm inside. keep up the good work! i'm really looking forward to seeing more

if you don’t mind, i'd like to request for a poly nagito x sweetheart reader x kokichi where they’re still in the crushing/pining stage and being confused about their sexuality. thank you, have a good day/night!💙

Phew! I finally did it! My fingers kinda hurt from typing all this haha! But I loved the request a lot! I played around with the concept you gave me as well, so it’s a story that branches out into multiple styles of writing. I do have to warn you though, goodness is this one long! But I hope you enjoy it all in the same! <3

I’m so sleepy lol 

quick trigger warning beware! : There is a scene in this where a character goes through mental hysteria that contains some panic attack like symptoms. If you are sensitive to that writing, please, skip the the fluffy scene that if used for comfort right after :) (Or just don’t read it at all, don’t worry! Harmoni understands!)

Nagito Komaeda x Sweetheart Reader x Kokichi Ouma! Pt. 1

Also can we just talk about this gif? It makes me so happy...This artist is so good too like WHOA! Check them out! 

“No…“

“1, 2, 3, 4-“

“NO-“

“5, 6, 7, 8!” Nagito finished, moving the silver, dog-shaped play piece across the board in rhythmic taps.

“NOOOO! BOARDWALK, NAGITO?! FUCKING BOARDWALK?!” Kokichi shrieked in a fit of rage, slamming his Panta drink onto the table, while standing up and causing an absolute fit.

Nagito was chuckling at the enraged boy, who was now standing on the kitchen counters, stomping in pure fury. Kokichi was a huge brat. A clingy, competitive, always-begging-for-something, whole-hearted brat. Though, Nagito would have to admit that he could never stay mad at Kokichi, in fact, he would have to say that he barely gets mad at him. Ever. He reminded the white-haired boy of a playful puppy, bounding and bucking happily when getting what it wants. It made Nagito’s heart melt, evaporate, then simply melt again, even when he was a cursing mess stomping on the granite countertops, getting scratches all over it.

“Woah! Nagi, that’s amazing! You got Boardwalk really early in the game, that’s so cool!” You smiled, while also laughing at Kokichi’s ferocious cursing as ambiance. Your smile drove Nagito’s attention away from the angered boy, and his heart went through overdrive once he saw your sweet smile, radiating so much contagious joy. It’s almost as if he was on a roller coaster that contained a different track each and every time he rode it. One minute, his heart would be doing loops, and the next, it excitedly go up again.

. . .

Now, this is where the problem begins. Well, the one of three problems that plague the three individuals all playing a simple game of Monopoly on a Sunday night. This is Nagito’s problem: Whenever he has an effect on Kokichi, making him oh-so-lovable in his eyes, his heart swells and fills his chest to the brim. Oh, was this feeling that was so incredibly foreign to him feel so wonderful when it dawned upon him for the first time.

Nagito could always draw the memory back within his vision in surreal detail. Kokichi and Nagito were loitering in the hallways of Hope’s peak, with the shorter purple-haired boy dragging the pale, frizzy haired boy by the hand to apparently “Conjure up the biggest most awesome-est prank Hope’s Peak has every witnesses since built into existence”. Honestly, how could Nagito say no to something that holds so much potential hope and despair, all contained in one big gift-wrapped surprise of a prank on the whole school?

After planning for a few hours, Kokichi seemed to have a fuse broken in his brain due to thinking about a truly fool-proof plan. The somewhat drowsy prankster reached into his schoolbag and pulled out two twin bottles of grape Panta, sliding one over to an unsuspecting Nagito. The purple plastic bottle bonked into Nagito’s forearm, knocking the bottle down from the force.

“Nehehe, I guess you really are the Ultimate Lucky student, huh? It just so happens I packed an extra today, Shamrock! Make it up to me sometime soon, okaaaaay?” Kokichi giggled, teasing the lanky, somewhat socially-awkward Nagito who was sitting across from him on a desk within a totally abandoned classroom. Nagito thanked the other, though, Kokichi really couldn’t respond due to being in the middle of chugging his favorite carbonated drink.

Nagito turn to his own bottle. He wasn’t the biggest fan of old-fashioned artificial grape flavored things, but it wasn’t the worst. Plus, it would be quite rude to refuse a drink from a friend, right? So the white haired boy simply picked up the bottle, and twisted the cap off, as per usual etiquette of opening a soda bottle.

Splash

It didn’t take too long until Nagito knew what was going on. The drink had exploded everywhere. The bottle of soda was basically empty by the end of the grape-geyser showcase, and poor Nagito was left drenched in purple, sticky, sugary liquid. The drink already was starting to dry into a thin, sweet crust on his skin, making the boy on a whole other level of uncomfortable. Though, it was kind of expected that Kokichi would be absolutely laughing his butt off in the moment, sounding like some sort of hysteric hyena mixed with a duckling quacking at some breadcrumbs. It was a laughable sight, no doubt, Nagito literally looked like the embodiment of a sad, wet dog.

But then Kokichi settled down after a bit, controlling his breathing from the pathetic sight. After doing so, he got up out of his seat, and knelt down to scrummage through his bag, revealing a regular branded water bottle. He then made his way over to Nagito, and without hesitation, sat himself on his soda-soaked lap.

“Aww, really going for that kicked puppy look, are you now? Well, since I’ve had all my laughing fun from this, I guess it’s only natural that I help you out, hm? Or would you rather just stay just like this? Oh, now, I wouldn’t mind it if we did…though it seems your eyes beg to differ…well in that case, let’s clean you up, shall we?” Kokichi hummed, teasing the ever living daylights out of the wet and miserable boy.

Kokichi then did something that made Nagito’s heart pound harder than it ever had before. The teasing boy reached behind his neck, untying his beloved checkered bandana. He then carefully opened the water bottle, and poured the contents onto the fabric. Once ensuring it was thoroughly soaked, Kokichi started to wash off as much of the stickiness he could. to Ruffling Nagito’s hair, from gently washing his pale cheeks, which were now sprinkled with specks of rose, and finally gliding the cloth along Nagito’s clothes and hands.

A few things in Nagito’s mind had clicked into place after Kokichi had handled him with the care equal to that of a lover. Well, ironically, Nagito had caught feelings for his tiny little prankster brat of a friend. Was it a huge surprise? Not really, based on the track that Nagito was on.

Another piece of the puzzle had snapped: Kokichi was a a guy. That was something really to think about. Never had Nagito found men attractive, but…

Finally, the last, and most worrying puzzle piece out of them all: Kokichi wasn’t the only one he has fell for. His heart has become torn in that moment, with every day becoming more of a wrestling match to the death rather than a silly tug-of-war between feelings. The other side of his heart was unsure, and fell for another person that had lifted him up through his lowest lows, supporting him like a much needed pair of crutches when having a sprained ankle.

And that person, was you.

. . .

“Ok ok ok ok ok! Listen here you little damn shamrock you!” Kokichi huffed, now sitting back on the ground, leg crossed, “You and I both know that I have Park Place, right? Right! Now, my dear little clover, I want to make a deal with you, if you will?” Kokichi smirked with evil intent clear within his irises.

“Ooo! Deals! Nagi, I think you should listen to Kichi, making profitable partnerships is pretty much his specialty.” You giggled, basically becoming Kokichi’s personal little advocate. He let out a quick “Yeah, what she said!”, causing Nagito to laugh and nod, gesturing for an explanation of the deal.

“Well, personally, my little clover, I feel like we should team up, you know? We could completely dominate over sweet our little gumdrop over there, making them drop to their knees in submission to us. You know, I have a feeling you and I both would enjoy it...” Kokichi shuffled a little closer to the platinum blonde, voice dropping, “We could rule them over together, as equals, or even make them surrender if they ever have the chance-“

“Sure! Though, you should probably get out of jail first.” Nagito chuckled, making the other boy grumble.

“OH YOU-“

“Heeeeey! I wanna join in too! It sounds like you guys are having fun and stuff, while I’m all alone…” You puffed out your cheeks, sadness dripping in your voice.

Both of the boys shot up to look at your somewhat downcast features, and oh, how it wreaked their hearts in one fell swoop.

Kokichi automatically shot up from his position, puffing out his chest in preparation for a new speech.

“O-ok! New deal! We ALL join evil forces TOGETHER, and absolutely destroy the game with all of our property, while reaping in the greedy rewards of the capitalist regime!” Kokichi loudly proclaimed, chuckling at the end of his new deal.

You gasped, “Deal! Deal! Taking over a money-based board game with my two favorite people ever will always be a yes for me!” You laughed, smiling at the thought of the three of you taking over Hollywood streets with a pose of limos, while using bags stuffed with pure cash as weapons made it ten times funnier.

Kokichi smiled, resting his hands behind his head, “Yeah! Let’s end it here and just say that we kicked so much millionaire ass that we now have control over the whole economy!”

. . .

This is the second problem, Kokichi is so undeniably confused. About what? About himself. He was sure as all hell about how he felt about you, he always went soft and squishy for you, and not to mention he would be extra clingy when it had to do with you. Headpats? Common, and always appreciated. Cuddles? Been there, done that with you.

But, then there was Nagito. Kokichi would never say this out loud, but he thought that Nagito was so…pretty. And god, Kokichi was a huge sucker for pretty people. Though, once he realized that his feelings didn’t go to just one person, that’s when he started to panic.

He had to take in multiple things at once, trying to accept it all at once, but it was just so incredibly difficult. He has spent the whole entirety of his life to perfect the art of lying, and one thing that he learned constantly manipulated his own mind and thought process, tearing it into metaphorical shreds.

In order to pull out a lie that everyone can believe, you have to lie to yourself, and proclaim your own illusion of your truth.

Did Kokichi want to believe he was immensely attracted to Nagito, who just happened to be a guy? No, he really didn’t. It wasn’t normal.

Did Kokichi want to believe that he had fallen so fucking in love with two of his closest friends? Hell no. In society, you had to pick and choose, it’s one or the god damn other.

Right?

One night, all of these feeling and thoughts rushed into the boy’s conscious all at once, building immense pressure within his head and chest. Was this a nightmare, or-

Suddenly, his throat started to close up on him, making him gasp out in agony, wheezing on the covers of his bed, tears brimming at the corners of his eyes.

Instinct kicked in within the speed of light. Kokichi shakily reached over to his phone, grasping onto it, and quickly set up a group call. Almost immediately, the two people he was panicking over had picked up.

“Hello? Kokichi? Is there anything you need?” A raspy voice rang out. It seems as if Nagito was awoken by the sudden calling.

“Yeah, Kichi? Is there anything wrong?” You softly spoke through the phone. It calmed Kokichi a little just hearing the two of you guy so worried over him.

“I-I know It’s out of the blue-“ Kokichi gasped for air “B-but can you guys please come over?”

And oh boy, did you and Nagito get there in record time.

After just a mere ten minutes, you and Nagito were outside of Kokichi’s bedroom door, and the both of you could hear the desperate hiccups and gasps of your poor friend.

The both of you had no doubts, nor questions. You just wanted the struggling boy to feel safe.

“We’re coming in.” You said, affirming your actions with light knocking on the bedroom door.

When the both of you came face to face with a Kokichi with puffy red eyes, clutching his heaving chest, and thick tears rolling down his face, it felt like the both of you just got shot in the heart, the weight of it sinking down into the stomach, emitting a feeling that could only be described as pure pity. But the two of you automatically got to work.

Sooner rather than later, You and Nagito were cuddling Kokichi from either side, supporting him, as well as being his shield for protecting his small, delicate frame from his own cruel thoughts. You had started to run your fingers through Kokichi’s hair, causing his breaths to become fuller, and not nearly as hitched. Nagito also wanted to contribute in his own way, so he decided to mindlessly draw messy shapes and squiggles into Kokichi’s side, hoping that what he was doing would be of any help.

After only a mere five minutes, Kokichi had passed out from exhaustion, but the two of you kept on doing what you were doing, wanting for the boy in-between you two to have sweet dreams about all of what he desires all night long.

Kokichi has never let go of that memory, and never will for the rest of his life, and it’s a constant reminder on how much he had lied to himself. He actually wanted the truth out of something for once in his life, and that was how long it would be in order for the loves of his life to live without restraint of societal chains. Whenever it was, he would always be ready. Always, with arms as open as the horizon.

. . .

“Why in the world are we watching Big Hero 6 again? Didn’t we watch this, like, a month ago?” Kokichi trudged from the microwave, to the plush couch, bowl of buttered popcorn in hand.

“(Y/N) wanted to watch it, is there a problem?” Nagito tilted his head, holding the remote, about to press play. You were bouncing in anticipation, because this movie was just never a disappointment.

“Hm, well, I GUESS there’s nothing wrong with it….just don’t be surprised when you hear me snoring.” Kokichi huddled up beside you, placing the bowl of popcorn on you lap.

“I deem you the popcorn peacemaker! Your job is to make sure no one’s being a pig.” Kokichi snickered, while you giggled at your new role in life.

“Nagi? You like popcorn, right? Here!” You placed the bowl on his lap, causing him to smile.

“Hey, HEY! NO! That means I have to reach my WHOLE ARM over to to Lucky boy, JUST SO I CAN GET SOME POPCO-“

“Sh sh sh! The movie is starting!” You giggled, shushing the purple haired boy, while you heard a little chuckle from the white haired boy who was next to you.

. . .

The last problem was you. Your heart bubbled up in joy whenever you where around these boys, making your face erupt like a volcano whenever something slightly suggestive is aimed at you when it has to do with either one of them. You liked both of them, a lot, and you gave everything in order for the three of you to flourish in bountiful friendship. Yeah, that’s the problem, it was friendship.

Oh, how desperately you wished that everything could be easy! If life were like an infinite rolling of crashing waves, things would be flawless, predictable even. Unfortunately, life really likes to give you the short end of the stick, and this was honestly one of the shortest sticks someone like you would have never asked for. The loving of two men, both equally, and having an intense desire to treat them as lovers. What would they do as lovers? Where would they go as lovers? The questions and possibilities are endless…

The only time where you felt as if the friendship could’ve resembled anything somewhat romantic, was a summer evening trip to the beach.

The water was the perfect temperature, the ocean was as clear as glass, and the sand didn’t burn the soles of your feet. The boy’s were in their swimming trunks, having their own little fun. Nagito was afraid of getting to deep into the ocean, so you always stayed in the shallow end, trying to capture as many tiny fishes as you could with your bare hands.

Kokichi insisted that him and Nagito bury you in sand, leaving your head poking out of a sandy little cocoon. When the sun started to set, you got some supplies that you brought, and lit the fire that the group planned to create. Everyone gathered around it, cooking hot dogs on sticks, and crafting tasty s’mores that we fed each other.

One could say that that night might be the most casual and platonic friend trip ever, but something was off.

Everyone looked at each other differently that night. When looking into their eyes, it was oddly intimate. It was like all of the stars in the night sky reflected off their eyes conveyed so much...love.

That night, you felt so adored, so cherished and cultivated to the brim of your existence. You felt something, and maybe the other boy’s did too, but that feeling has changed your life.

Thanks to these stupid boys; These stupid boys that you’ve given so much to, you don’t think you could ever love any other.

One you’ve helped get out of a terrible degradation cycle, another you’ve helped to not lie to himself, and not as much to others.

And thanks to your down to earth humility, your heart has been stolen, and it was going to stay taken by those lovely, unique boys who have helped you out of so many ditches, and so many of life’s cracks and dents. God, how could you not fall?

Their lives were precious to you, but you had no idea how they would feel about an actual relationship, so you’ve always been terrified. Petrified and paralyzed to the bone to ever think of what may happen if you were the cause of the fracture of the friendship. You didn’t want to ruin something that has taken so long to build, yet can be torn all down due to a selfish desire.

But, maybe, just maybe, if they went to you first, confessed everything that was bottled up inside, dittoed on how you felt…

Then you might just be the luckiest person to live on this earth, there’s no doubt about that.

#danganronpa #danganronpa fanfiction #danganronpa x reader #danganronpa x y/n #nagito #nagito komaeda #nagito x reader #nagito x y/n #nagito komaeda x reader #kokichi #kokichi oma #kokichi x reader #kokichi x y/n #Kokichi Oma x reader #poly romance #nagito x kokichi #nagito x kokichi x y/n

[elindae-writes]

Every cringe streamer or youtuber makes a music channel. Every. Single. One. Of. Them. Megs is no different. I bet he'd force all the decepticons to sing for him. Starscream is just shrieking at the top of his lungs and though Soundwave is tone-deaf, he can drop some sick beats. The vehicons have some pretty deep voices. I'm pretty sure they'd be supporting the main singers. Megatron waves around his sword randomly trying to fit in with music and look like he knows what he's doing.

This ask made me really ponder Megatron's streaming style. The reason why is because I think he would alternate between wanting other people in his stream and at other times just wanting to stream completely alone.

He would wave his sword around as if it's a conductor's baton. Then he'd accidentally get it stuck in the wall and blame Starscream.

Okay, I figured it out: He'd probably force everybody to live out this extremely painful and cringey sing-song nightmare--on Tuesdays.

But on Wednesdays? On today's Wednesday? Megatron would go into Survival Man Mode. He watched too many survival shows and decided to get onto the wilderness survival bandwagon.

Let's see how our planet's ruler is surviving in the woods!

"hello," Megatron rasps in the camera. He is near a highway. "today i shall prove how inferior your pathetic planet is by easily surviving upon it. look, look how weak it is. pah. i will prove myself the true lord of earth today."

The cars get into an accident due to their shock of seeing him. "yes. i am shocking, am i not?" Megatron nods and then sprints across the road and into the woods like a whitetail deer.

"i know the basics of survival. first, i shall gather a source of water!" Megatron sees one of those tree stumps with leftover rain water in it. It has leaves floating around. He reaches down and slaps it with his talon, splattering water and foliage everywhere. "h2o has been procured."

"shelter," Megatron says as he zooms in on a bird's nest. "i must create a woodland abode of my own, like the one that this flying rat has constructed here."

He snaps down several trees and creates a very terrible teepee in the middle of the woods. He then settles down in a crossed-leg pose underneath it. He's hunched down a bit because it's too small. Megatron ignores this. The camera is propped onto a rock.

"this is easy. why do you humans suck at surviving on your own planet? mhmm."

A metal purple shape flies through the sky. The stream notices but Megatron doesn't.

An actual bird lands near the camera! You can see its blurry feet.

"a new stream viewer! what a lovely chicken."

It's a bluejay but he doesn't know that.

It begins to peck the camera.

"DREAFUL CREATURE, FOOLISH FLIGHTED BEAST, DO YOU KNOW NOT WHOSE STREAM YOU PECK UPON?"

He fires his fusion cannon at the bird. It misses and the birds flits off unharmed.

There is now a giant fire.

"well. that fulfills the next basic need: warmth. i shall be warm. winter is coming soon." It's summer.

He fires his fusion cannon a few more times and there is now a very large fire. "fantastic. warmth! wait. it's coming towards my teepee."

The flames lick at the moss near the base of his "teepee" which is still just precariously stacked trees btw

He crouches in front of the flames and waves his arms around in front of the fire. "do not encroach upon your lord's dwelling. DO NOT BURN DOWN YOUR RULER'S HOUSE"

The teepee is lit on fire. Megatron's optics flicker. He decides to try and save his "house." He waves his arms around in the hopes of stoking out the flames. They just grow taller. He stares at it for a few moments and then turns and leaves as the forest burns.

"well. okay..."

He clears his throat and ignores the forest fire now behind him. "it was the tree's faults for being weakly susceptible to flame. they should've decided to grow as flame-proof trees. stupid wood. perhaps there is some non-flammable wood in this forest? mhmm? i shall gather my next basic survival need: food." He pulls out a cube, puts it to his mouth, but then pauses with his mouth still half-open. "no... i will prove my superiority over your planet by proving that i can survive on its resources alone!"

He then throws the cube into the sky. It hits a mid-flight bird. "in fact! i shall even make do without my spare emergency cube!"

The purple metal drone flies over the trees again. It screams. Megatron still does not notice.

Megatron puts the spare cube down in front of a rabbit. he leans down and whispers to it very gently. "eat. food. this is yours. you are set now. thank me later." The rabbit sits on it.

Megatron then shuffles off.

Megatron crouches down and eats an entire bundle of leaves off a bush as if he is some woodland creature.

"disgusting," he mutters, "but i shall make do and survive. far too green."

There are screaming noises. He moves the camera to record the source of them. We see several terrified people playing frisbee at a nearby park. Yes, Megatron was just in a park this entire time. The frisbee clonks into Megatron as the people scream.

"you dare throw a disc of plastic at your ruler?!" Megatron scoffs. He begins to stomp at the humans.

A groundbridge opens up. Optimus emerges, battlemask drawn and weapons already out and pointed. "MEGATRON."

"hello! oh, how interesting it is to see you here, Orion. how interesting. i see that you happened to start your own wilderness survival stream coincidentally shortly after i started my own. what a happenstance, right?"

He coughs up a salad's worth of leaves and then shakily points at a confused Optimus. "you're copying me," Megatron hisses. The bluejay from earlier lands on his outstretched talon tip. "copycat! get your own section of woodland area to livestream in!"

"...MEGATRON?"

Megatron's optics flicker and go dark. "uh," he coughs. "perhaps i should have held onto that spare cube. that stupid bitch rabbit stole it." He collapses due to hunger and lands faceplate down onto the fallen frisbee. It turns out that Megatron couldn't survive off of just leaves after all.

#mcprime universe #megatron #optimus prime #transformers #transformers: prime

[caswellprmanager]

the caswell wears prada

read it on ao3!

Summary: EJ's style is simple and functional but Ricky discovers he's capable of more than just letterman jackets and white sneakers. (Part 4 of my trans!ej and genderqueer!ricky AU.)

Author's Notes: I have this little headcanon that EJ used to model baby clothes when he was a baby. Then only went back to modelling once he transitioned to the point he was comfortable enough. Also not me giving Ashlyn's parents a purpose except for just leaving the house empty enough for Ashlyn to throw parties. Hope you guys enjoy!

Warning: Implied Sexual Content at the very end but since it's not explicit, I'll just let y'all use your imaginations.

Ricky has almost exclusively seen EJ in basic white boy clothes. It's usually just a nice fitting t-shirt, some branded jacket, jeans, and branded sneakers. It's not exactly avant-garde but Ricky can appreciate the fact that EJ has found a distinct style that's both understated yet elevates his already good looks.

But from what Ricky has learned in the few months that they've been dating EJ is that just because he dresses like that, it doesn't mean EJ does not have an eye for fashion.

Ricky learned this one day when the two of them were hanging out with Gina and Ashlyn at Ashlyn's house.

Ashlyn's mom was the Editor-In-Chief of an editorial fashion magazine that focuses on highlighting brands that promote sustainable fashion. She also runs a design company herself. Every other minute, she'd be going in and out of her design studio with a phone against her ear and a different meter of fabric in her hands. Her job is also the reason why Ashlyn's parents aren't usually home. Ashlyn's mom would be invited to different fashion events or she'd meet with a client about a new start-up. Ashlyn's dad accompanies her so that she wouldn't overwork herself.

None of that is new to Ricky. What is new, however, is EJ's involvement in her work.

"Ashlyn!" Mrs. Caswell rushes in, a hundred different scarves wrapped around her neck. Ricky wonders if she can breathe beneath all that cashmere and silk. "Darling, I need your help."

"What is it, mom?" Ashlyn asks, pausing the movie the four of them were watching.

Instead of responding, Mrs. Caswell just runs back to her home studio with a hurried click of her heels. Ashlyn looks at the rest of the group with a shrug, moving to stand up until her mom comes rushing back in – this time with a little purple hat perched on her strawberry blond locks.

"EJ, sweetheart! You come too. I need your opinion on a few things." Before any of them could say anything, she's disappeared back into her studio in a flurry of scarves and sequins.

EJ doesn't even bat an eye and moves to follow his cousin out of the living room. Ricky grabs his hand before he could leave, asking him what Ashlyn's mom wants his opinion on. EJ isn't exactly Paris Fashion Week, if Ricky was gonna be honest.

EJ just smiles, placing a chaste kiss on Ricky's lips before saying, "I'll tell you when we get back."

With that statement, Ricky and Gina are left alone, both feeling more confused than before.

"Does that happen often?" Ricky asks Gina, who is picking through the popcorn bowl.

"Ashlyn's mom being weird?" Gina tosses a popcorn kernel up into the air before catching it into her mouth flawlessly. "I've seen Ashlyn help her a few times. But I haven't seen her call EJ into that room before."

"Yeah..." Ricky picks at a loose thread on their jeans. "Didn't really peg EJ as the fashionable type."

Gina pauses in her pursuit of the perfect popcorn kernel and raises a questioning eyebrow towards Ricky. "Hold up... EJ never told you?"

"Told me... what?" Ricky started to panic a little bit. They never liked hearing ominous phrases like that from other people. It fuels their already present anxiety about dating someone who is way out of their league like EJ – someone who could leave Ricky at any time if they realize that Ricky will never be good enough for them.

Gina seems to realize this quickly enough and she tries to diffuse the situation before it gets worse. "Oh! No no no, Ricky, it isn't bad!"

"Then what is it?" Instead of answering, Gina just looks over shoulder at the direction of where the Caswell Cousins went to. After a few seconds of making sure the coast is clear, she tilts her head and motions for Ricky to follow her.

Gina leads Ricky to the spare guest room that EJ occupies sometimes when he doesn't want to sleep at home. In fact, sometimes this room is literally just called EJ's extra room because he's here so frequently. Ricky's napped here a couple of times so it isn't a new place. But he's usually too tired to explore it due to some recent emotional problem or another.

By the far wall is a dresser that Ricky hasn't ever thought to look through. Gina beckons him to come closer as she opens the bottom drawer.

"Ashlyn showed me this when I first moved in. We had to call EJ immediately after because I just had... so many questions." After a few seconds of rummaging, Gina brings out a small stack of magazines triumphantly.

Ricky recognizes the magazines immediately as the same ones Ashlyn's mom is the Editor-In-Chief for.

"Are those...?" Ricky asks and Gina nods excitedly, motioning for him to sit down next to her. The two of them peer through the old issues together, pointing at things they think would look nice on them.

Before they turn to the middle spread, Gina turns to them with a serious look in her eye. "Ricky, I need you to brace yourself."

Ricky tilts their head in confusion. "For what?"

"Just," And Gina can't even hide her giddy little smile. "Get ready."

Ricky can't even bring themself to respond before Gina is showing them the middle spread of the magazine. Their mind skids to a halt when they see a younger EJ staring back at them from the glossy pages, dressed head to toe in the finest three-piece dress suit Ricky's ever seen.

And it isn't just that, EJ's all over the spread – dressed in all kinds of outfits. From gorgeously crafted lace button downs to tastefully styled overcoats – EJ models the shit out of them. Ricky scans the pages in awe because they've never seen EJ wear stuff like this. Sure, they've seen EJ in a suit during homecoming but not one with embroidered roses across the vest or paired with diamond encrusted gold jewelry.

Gina turns the page and Ricky lets out a small gasp.

It's a two page Ashlyn and EJ spread – the cousins looking absolutely ethereal dressed in the most delicate fabric embroidered with flowers along the seams. Their skin is glowing beneath the sunset, the light catching at the highlights on their cheekbones. But what really got to Ricky is one very small but powerful detail:

The flowers along EJ's shirt and the makeup he's wearing are in the trans flag colors.

"Ricky, look." Gina points at the small interview portion at the corner of the page, smiling when Ricky reads it and realizes that it's about EJ.

E.J. Caswell – Teen Transgender Model

"I've been avoiding modeling since I started transitioning and coming back to it was really scary." Says teen model E.J. Caswell. "But when my aunt gave me the opportunity to finally speak my truth through fashion, I knew that I wouldn't regret this decision in the long run."

"There are still so many moments where I hate my body. It's gonna take a while until that goes away. And maybe it won't. Ever." E.J. tells us with a sad smile. "But this is a start – and I get to style some really cool clothes while I'm at it!"

When Ashlyn Caswell was asked about the significance of this project to her cousin and to future transgender models, she smiled softly, making it abundantly clear how much she adores her older cousin. "E.J. is one of the bravest people I know. He's always been an inspiration to me and I'm so proud of him for doing this on his own terms. Plus, I'm really happy he asked me to be a part of it with him. But don't tell him I said that! I'll never hear the end of it."

"She said that?" E.J. said with barely concealed glee. "Aww, Ashlyn!"

Ricky and Gina giggle at the mental image of EJ probably giving an exasperated Ashlyn a big bear hug after his interview. Ricky can't help but stare at the spread again, lightly trailing his finger over EJ's face with a soft smile. He really is so beautiful. Ricky sometimes can't believe that someone as gorgeous as EJ is real.

"Looks like Gina beat me to it."

The sound of EJ's voice by the doorway makes the two of them freeze and turn to see both Caswell cousins looking at them with knowing smiles. But Ashlyn and EJ weren't wearing what they were wearing before Ashlyn's mom called them for help.

Instead, Ashlyn was wearing a floor length pink chiffon dress with embroidered roses scattered along its sleeves and body. EJ was wearing a dress shirt of similar color and material, pairing it with white dress pants and a ruby encrusted rose broach.

"Well look at you two supermodels!" Gina squealed in glee, bounding over to gush over Ashlyn's outfit. Ricky stays rooted in their spot on the floor, their eyes never leaving EJ's. EJ approaches them slowly and takes a seat on the bed next to Ricky. He moves into an effortless pose, making Ricky blush more than necessary.

EJ smiles at them, eyes sparkling mischievously. "Hi."

"H-Hi." Ricky says, moving to face EJ with shaky legs. "You look nice."

"Just nice?" EJ leans down with a smirk, a lock of hair falling to his forehead like some goddamn romance movie. Ricky didn't even notice that even his hair was styled differently. Was EJ growing his hair out? Why didn't he warn me?

"I'd say something dirtier but I don't wanna traumatize the girls." EJ laughs at that and Ricky could only stare at the way EJ throws his head back with the most beautiful smile they've ever seen.

This isn't fair. EJ is sitting here looking like he was plucked straight out of a Vogue magazine while Ricky's sorry ass is on the floor in pajama pants and an old hoodie. Fuck. They should have texted Kourtney for help with their outfit today.

"You're so cute," EJ leans forward even closer, so close that EJ's able to lightly graze their noses together. "Maybe I should dress like this more often to make you blush like that."

Ricky contemplates on the statement for a bit, imagining what it would be like if EJ were to wear more designer clothes to school everyday. EJ right now certainly looks confident and cool. Plus, he gets the added bonus of Ricky looking extra flustered around him.

But at the end of the day, it's EJ's body and EJ gets to choose whatever makes him feel good.

Besides, Ricky fell for EJ without all the bells and whistles.

"You don't have to wear fancy clothes to make me think you're gorgeous." Ricky says before they can stop themself from saying it. But it's out now and there's no turning back. EJ's eyes widen but they eventually soften after processing what Ricky said.

"It doesn't matter what I think, though." Ricky says, reaching for EJ's hand. "What matters is that you're happy. Whether you're wearing a potato sack or Versace. As long as you feel comfortable and you're seeing your favorite self in the mirror, I'll tell you that you're the most handsome boy in the world."

Ricky scoots closer to place a soft kiss on EJ's nose before pressing their foreheads together. Ricky can't really tell who's smiling wider from this angle but they didn't care.

"My handsome boy." Ricky whispers, lightly tracing EJ's bottom lip with their thumb. EJ smiles even wider at the sound of that and it never fails to make Ricky happy seeing EJ so happy.

They're about to move in for another kiss when they hear Ashlyn cough from the doorway.

The two of them separate abruptly, both blushing profusely as the girls giggle behind their hands.

"We'll leave you two alone," Ashlyn says, grabbing Gina's hand to pull her back to the living room. "I'll tell mom you'll be late for dinner."

As soon as the door closes behind the girls, Ricky turns back to a still blushing EJ, a small but urgent thought manifesting to the front of their mind.

"I should take this off-" EJ doesn't even get the chance to finish his sentence before Ricky is pushing him down on the bed and straddling his hips. "R-Ricky?"

Ricky smirks, placing a single finger on EJ's lips as they lean forward to whisper in his ear,

"I'll help you take it off." EJ lets out the smallest whimper at that but Ricky shushes him, blowing against his earlobe. "But you have to be quiet, handsome."

As soon as EJ shakily nods his head yes, Ricky gets to work.

Unfortunately, they're more than a little late for dinner.

---

A/N: I've added some reference pics below if y'all want a better image of what EJ and Ashlyn were wearing hehe :>

#ej caswell #ricky bowen #caswen #gina porter #ashlyn caswell #hsmtmts #hsmtms fanfiction #trans!ej #genderqueer!ricky #cloud's writing now

[sugurus-slxt]

hello, can i request a matchup for jjk from the follower event? congrats with 100! i'm 5”4, 18 and bi, long platinum blonde hair with bangs, hourglass figure, pale skin and green eyes. i intimidate people and seem arrogant or careless, but in the end I’m very adventurous, stubborn, fiesty and pretty laid back. i joke around a lot, don’t take things much serious and can act flippant on purpose a bit.

i like to draw, listen to music mostly rock, indie and pop. fashion, games, knives, cooking and nature. i like to move around and do physical activities. i'm a leo-virgo cusp and an intj. i’m afraid of heights. i really want to travel around. i do martial arts and yoga. i prefer to deal with problems and things i work on by myself and have a hard time asking for help.

i like excitement and seek thrill, even, if it gets me in trouble. i also tend to act impulsively in situations and can get easily bored. i go between between y2k and fairycore style wise, but i also wear a lot of black. i have a big sense of patience and very loyal to my loved ones. i enjoy being social, but i also enjoy being alone. i seek someone who has similar interests and traits, someone i can have fun with too and has mutual understanding. i show affection by small gestures of PDA and acts of service, but also words of affirmation. i tend to empathize and put myself into other peoples situations. i also like to read fiction and comics, learn new things and hate liars!

i don’t have any preference with characters, thank you and have a nice day 👏

Personality Matchup

One 𝑅𝓊𝒷𝓎 coming right up...

A/Note: Thank you so much and of course you can. So I just want you to keep in mind I matched you with someone I think your personality goes well with, I tried to stay within a certain age range considering you are 18 but I focused more on personality. I hope you like the match up :) Love <3 ~ Sar-chan

THE VAULT

I matched you with…

Runner Up: Kugisaki Nobara

I think you guys would work pretty well together, Nobara could have been better I'm not completely sure but I do like Maki for you.

Some little HCs:

I think in looks, the both of you contrast nicely, her darker hair with your lighter, as well as the style contrast but she’s not that much taller than you.

I think Maki admires the way you come off as first, she likes that you’re strong and I think she’ll think of you as her firecracker. She likes the way you can brighten her day when you joke around but does want you to be careful of your flippant attitude. She gets mad at Gojo for encouraging it sometimes.

Maki is a blunt person so if you ever need critique on anything she’s willing to lay it on you.

She enjoys looking at your drawings and will blush if you ever draw her.

I don’t think Maki is a super fashion-oriented person but when she looks over at your fashion game she might mumble suggestions and I’m sure if you try them they will look good. If you go shopping with her let her choose an outfit for you, she will get a bit anxious but flawlessly picks an amazing outfit.

I think you and Maki would have picnic dates out in a clearing in the forest and after you guys eat, digest you guys would spar, just for fun.

If you happen to run off, I think she would definitely catch you, grabbing you by the waist and pin you to a nearby tree.

I think there are days where Maki will come home to find you cooking and she’ll wrap her arms around your waist, then place a kiss on your cheek. She’ll insist she’ll help even if she’s tired ad doesn’t 100% sure know what to do.

I think both of you bond over knives, sometimes when she comes back she brings you a new one to add to your collection. Maki will show you hers and show you how to use some of them, or how she does.

I think Maki also has a hard time asking for help and she’ll see that in you too. She’d learn to confide in you but it would take time.

Morning yoga with Maki is 100% recommend but I think she’d be up really early. If you want to try couple poses with her, it’d take quite a bit of convincing.

Sometimes Maki will get frustrated that you can read her easily because he doesn’t want her issues to affect you but she’s grateful to you for always pulling her out of her own darkness.

EXTRA:

I Hope you liked it :) Thank you for visiting the vault.

#Sar.matches #100 followers #🔒.SValut #The Vault.🔒 #100 followers event #Sar.writes #maki zenin #maki supremacy #zenin twins #jjk hcs #jjk headcanons #jujutsu kaisen #jjk matchups #haikyuu matchups #mha matchup #maki fluff #maki headcanons #maki hcs #jjk fluff

[loopy777]

Non-Review: Free Comic Book Day 2021 - The Legend of Korra (Also Featuring Avatar: The Last Airbender)

With all the hype around 'Suki Alone,' it looks to me like most of the fandom missed that an additional Avatar comic with a story from each cartoon's era was just released for Free Comic Book Day. You can read them for yourself on either Dark Horse Digital or Comixology where it's mislabeled as being for ages 17+ (free accounts are required for both), but I'm sure one of the reasons you all love me is because of my willingness to jump in between you and these comics like the deadly bullets they can be. Well, I'm happy to die (metaphorically) for the sake of (a little anonymous internet) love, so I'm doing a full snarky review for each ten-page story. Also, I'm bored, and it's more fun to make fun of mediocre stuff than to praise stuff I like.

It's time for me to review "Free Comic Book Day 2021 - The Legend of Korra (Also Featuring Avatar: The Last Airbender)" or more specifically "The Legend of Korra: Clearing the Air" and "Avatar: The Last Airbender: Matcha Makers."

CLEARING THE AIR

The cover makes this look like a story about Jinora and Ikki having a sibling conflict. That's a lie. The Air Sisters arguing is merely the inciting incident for Tenzin telling a story of his youth. I should note that, as inconsequential as the Air Sisters stuff is, it's actually written very well because it posits Ikki as a victim of circumstance and Jinora as a bully who terrorizes her little sister with threats of getting thrown in jail by Metalbenders for an accident, cementing the characterization from the cartoon. This is not sarcasm. I really do think Jinora is presented by LoK as a Holier Than Thou little snot who just so happened to be naturally gifted with magic spirit-powers, but for some reason the rest of the fandom doesn't agree with me.

Anyway, Tenzin comes in to find the arguing (and Meelo just running amok for the fun of it and so far these characterizations are perfect), and rather than telling Jinora to shut her stupid face, he delivers a tale of his youth about conflict resolution.

So the meat of the story is how, when Tenzin was "a few years older" than Jinora, a pair of vandals got onto Air Temple Island and burned some graffiti into the spinning-panel things that Korra will destroy out of frustration during her Airbending training. Literally, the vandals are depicted as scorching the wood with enough smoke to be seen across a plaza. Tenzin goes after the vandals and they flee across the bay back to Republic City proper (one of the vandals is a Waterbender with a surf-plank). Tenzin pursues, catches them, and attacks them hard enough to smash some dockside crates. They are all then arrested by Metalbenders and dragged before Chief Toph. She's going to let Tenzin go (yay Toph!) and throw the vandals in jail (YAY TOPH!) and makes this face, and this entire comic is worth it:

However, Aang arrives and instead arranges to forgo the jail-time in favor of an Air Nomad Conflict Resolution Ceremony. This is nice and in-character, but I'm totally with Tenzin that these vandals should have been thrown in jail. They literally burned insulting graffiti into antiques from a genocided culture. But instead, Aang demonstrates conflict resolution by having Tenzin explain why he's hurt and what needs to be done to redress the wrong. And so the vandals help Tenzin scrub the graffiti off the panels with water and rags and mops- how, I don't know, since they were literally burned.

They also do a ceremony thing where they each take turns bending their element into a central space between them to 'clear the air' (GET IT GET IT HA HA IT'S ALMOST LIKE A PUN BUT NOT), so it's a good thing they were all Benders because this is kinda racist. This fixes all the problems and everyone is friends. Yay!

In the present, though, things are not so nice, because Tenzin's kids are still screaming at and provoking each other. Korra comes in with Asami at the end to ask what's going on, and Asami says nothing, so I still think everyone is characterized with perfect consistency with the cartoon.

I made this sound silly, but (aside from the spinny-panels getting cleaned with a little water and elbow-grease, which doesn't matter because Korra will eventually blow them all up anyway), I actually like this one. It has Tenzin demonstrate how much he's always had to work to be the Perfect Air Monk that everyone expects him to be, and Aang acknowledges how this is unfair but that Tenzin will never let him down no matter what. It also has Katara come in at the end (for just one line, boo!) to acknowledge that this was an especially easy little conflict for Tenzin to practice on and he'll eventually face worse. I found it a nice adult moment in a story that's otherwise clearly aimed at 8-year-olds.

The art is good. It's simpler than the LoK cartoon, with flat colors, but it captures the story and has enough liveliness for everyone's character to come across in their look and body-language. The brief action-sequence where Tenzin attacks the vandals is well done, moving quickly but showing the full flow of the fight and every move Tenzin makes.

MATCHA MAKERS

Apparently, "Matcha is finely ground powder of specially grown and processed green tea leaves, traditionally consumed in East Asia" according to Wikipedia. I had to look that up. I'm curious how many people understood the full reference in the title, especially since these comics are aimed at kids too young to be allowed on the internet.

This is a very simple story about Iroh in his tea-shop in Ba Sing Se. He has an assistant/waitress named Feng, a new character who wears glasses, ruining the hopes and dreams of all the fanfic-writers who were so sure he'd rescue Jin from the Lower Ring. A frequent patron of the tea shop is an elegant, older lady (very clearly Upper Ring material) named Li-Mei, who cannot go a single panel without giving Iroh a HEY BIG BOY look. She is very clearly smitten. Also, I feel the need to clarify that she knows his name is Iroh, so apparently Ba Sing Se is okay with the Dragon of the West serving tea to their wealthy. I don't say that as a criticism, I'm just noting it.

That night, Iroh meets up with his friends- the Pokemon-style spirits that we saw in Legend of Korra. (I don't know if they're the actual spirits from LoK, or just new spirits in the same style. This is because I would sooner grind matcha into my eyes than rewatch Book Spirits.) He serves them his special blend of tea and talks about how he's totally into Li-Mei but isn't going to pursue it because he's feeling old and doesn't want to take a risk. At this point, I could stop describing the plot because between the title and what I've said so far, I'm sure you could figure out every single plot beat that will follow.

The next day, the spirits trip Feng so that she drops Li-Mei's tea and Iroh needs to bring a replacement, and they've drawn hearts on top of the replacement tea with foam or sugar or milk or whatever. I don't know because I've never bought tea in a place that will even put the bag in the hot water for me. Iroh gets out of the situation without starting any love-affairs and runs into the back to tell the spirits to knock it off, dudes, they're totally embarrassing him! The spirits respond by giving him a flyer for a romantic restaurant. I don't know how they got it, so I can only assume that some Upper Ringer had their mail diverted.

Iroh refuses, so when Li-Mei orders more tea and he brings it to her, the spirits hover just out of her sight and threaten to smash the furniture. I am not making that up. They literally threaten to smash Iroh's furniture unless he asks the lady out. He submits to their tyrannical threats, Li-Mei happily accepts the date, he happily accepts her acceptance, and the story comes to a close. Iroh thanks his spirits friends for opening him up to new experience, but hopes that next time (so I guess Iroh is signing up for Tinder after this?) they won't threaten his shop.

At best, I can describe this story as 'harmless.' But it's been a long week and I just got a bunch more extra work at my day job that I really don't want to do, so I'm going to go ahead and call this story 'dumb.' It's rote, leans towards humor without actually being funny at all, and turns the spirits of the setting into Pokemon. And not even the cool dragon kind.

The art is strangely stiff. The coloring is soft and nice, but the drawings seems more 'assembled' than actually drawn. I swear there are even a few panels that reminded me of 'How I Became Yours' with janky poses, horrifying expressions, and just enough resemblance to the original cartoon to make me think a screenshot was partially traced and then ruined. (I'm not accusing the artist of tracing, BTW. I wouldn't even condemn the artist for tracing if they did. I'm just describing that HIBY feeling I got.) It was so stiff that rather than hear Iroh's dialogue in Mako's rich tones, I instead imagined Greg Baldwin doing a stiff Mako-impression with no naturalism to the delivery.

This story is definitely worthy of its "Also Featuring" billing. I'd rate it below Gene Yang's Mai and Suki FCBD short stories, but above everything else he wrote for Avatar.

So there you go. Overall, this is very middle-of-the-pack for Avatar FCBD stuff. It's very much of the nature of the 'Team Avatar Tales' stuff, and I wouldn't be surprised if the Iroh story was a leftover from that project. On Free Comic Book Day, you often get what you pay for.

[fortunatelyhauntedblackcherry]

Walking the tightrope - A "The Greatest Showman" Fanfiction 1

Yeah I started writing something else, sorry 😅 I'll keep writing the Beetlejuice one, don't worry, I just had an another idea... With one of my other crushes. This won't need any warnings so we'll just skip that :3 Have a nice time reading! Chapter 2 coming tomorrow or the day after! 😘

🎶When the world becomes a fantasy🎶

Drops of sweat were rolling off of Constantine's back. Sparks of joy, confidence and concentration were glowing in his dark brown eyes.

🎶And you're more than you could ever be🎶

He did a twirl, letting his cape fly freely. He was feeling really good that night. The crowd was clapping and smiling widely as the circus company danced.

🎶'Cause you're dreaming with your eyes wide open🎶

The cast changed places, but Constantine stepped even closer to the viewers from his place. Lettie told him lately that he should sing a little alone if he was feeling like it, cause he had an angelic voice. Oh and he was feeling like it.

🎶YEAH, YEAH🎶

He belted while stepping on the ring stool, causing the first row scream out and clap even harder. He smiled at his little admirers: four little kids; three girls and a boy, not one older than 8. And a fair young woman with them, with an excited look on her pretty face. She was cheering just as hard as the children she were with. Constantine changed a quick glance with her as he stepped back in line.

🎶And you know you can't go back again🎶

The cast all posed as Mr. Barnum slipped before them. Constantine flexed his muscles like the greek hero he was on stage, causing several women to gasp. He couldn't help but glance at the young lady he looked at before. She had a naughty little smile on her face. These tiny adoring looks boosted his ego and made him feel less ashamed about how he looked. So he smiled back.

🎶To the world that you were living in🎶

Mr. Barnum tipped his hat towards one of the kids the woman was with, which made the little boy scream in excitement. Mr. Barnum really knew how to make the crowd cheer, thought Constantine.

🎶'Cause you're dreaming with your eyes wide open🎶

Constantine huffed as he got to his place before spinning again. His hair got all wet and rumpled. I'll ask Anne what she does with her wig so it doesn't fall apart.

🎶'Cause you're dreaming with your eyes wide open🎶

They retreated back to the back of the stage, then jumped back to their original places to finish the grand finale. They all raised their hands in fists.

🎶So come alive!🎶

They opened up their fists and turned around to face everybody in the crowd. Constantine belted out his last lines with closed eyes and a huge smile spread out on his face. He then did his end pose with a confident smile.

After the company finished the show with bowing, they retreated to their quarters with huge smiles on their faces. Constantine took his cape off and threw it on his bed. His small room with red walls, arabian style drapes on the ceiling and dark brown furniture with fretwork all over it was way better than his old hammock in the poopdeck of the ship he was "working" on. He transferred back to reality by the feeling of someone touching his skin. He looked at the person who gave him a friendly pat on the back. The warm smile of his best friend welcomed him, as always.

- How are you feeling, my friend? - asked the sicilian man with a heavy accent while he sat down on Constantine's bed. It was packed with colorful pillows and was covered in dark green satin bedsheets.

- Very good, Lentini, very good! - said the greek while he walked to his wardrobe. He pulled out a white shirt, a pair of suspenders, some underwear and a pair of burgundy red trousers, with light fishbone patterns on them. - This night was a true blast. - he said with a wide smile, then disappeared behind his dark brown, wooden dressing screen.

- That's why I came, to be honest. - said the sicilian as he stood up from the bed. He walked up to Constantine's trident and touched its edges. They were sharp as knives. - I wanted to congratulate you! - Lentini turned around with a huge smile on his face when he saw from the corner of his eye that Constantine came out from behind the dressing screen. That's what Constantine liked about him the most. That Frank Lentini was the most positive, most wholesome man he ever met. And that he was always smiling. That made the tattoed Prince of Greece feel better, no matter how gloomy he was. He was still buttoning his shirt when Lentini grabbed his shoulders. - Your act was very good! You are getting better and better in pleasing the crowd! - he winked. Constantine laughed and shooed his hand away.

- You are making me blush, Frank. - the sicilian shrugged while he put his third leg up on the chest that was placed before Constantine's king sized bed.

- I wouldn't know it though. - Constantine rolled his eyes.

- Come on pal, my face is not THAT covered in tattoos! - they both laughed. Constantine grabbed Lentini's shoulder with his right hand while he put his left hand on his heart. The real one, not the one that was tattoed across his chest. - But thank you, I really felt great on stage. Have you seen how many people came tonight?

- I'm not blind, my friend. - Frank leaned closer with a cheeky smile. - Did any of your cheering fans caught your attention? - Constantine pushed the three legged man away with a half smile.

- Maybe. But you know I'm a lone wolf, my friend. - Lentini raised an eyebrow.

- I also know that's a lie, dearest Prince. - he grabbed the Prince's shoulder again and squeezed it. - Don't worry, amico mio. Sooner or later, you will find your Princess. - Constantine looked him in the eye with hope in his eyes.

- You know how hard it is for us. But, I hope you're going to be right. - Frank patted the greek man's face.

- I'll go and grab a bite in the tavern nearby. Care to join me? - Constantine stepped away from his friend and sat down before his vanity.

- Maybe later. I'm not really hungry now. - the sicilian bowed, Constantine waved.

- See you later then, my friend.

Constantine washed his hair in his iron basin. He grabbed a towel and just started to dry it up when suddenly he heard a woman call out.

- Melody? It's time to go home, honey! - the man pricked his ears. The greek was pretty sure that the woman who was calling out was young. And beautiful. Such an angelic voice couldn't come from some old hag. The voice kept repeating "Melody" over and over again, the next call always more panicked then the one before. Constantine decided that he should help this damsel in distress. He stood up and started following the calls.

Constantine gallopped down the stairs, still drying up his hair with the towel when he spotted the owner of the voice. She truly was a young lady, a beautiful and petite one, to be exact. She wore a dark purple spotted white evening dress with dark purple lace on her slim body, which really made her light caramel coloured skin pop. Her black, wavy hair was tied into a tight bun, but several loose locks framed her pretty, triangle shaped face. She wore little golden hooprings in her ears, which matched her thin golden bracelets. She didn't have any gloves on. She was looking under the seats next to the ring. Constantine stepped behind her and threw the towel across his shoulder.

- Can I help you? - he asked. The woman straightened herself up.

- Yes! I'm really sorry to bother, sir, but... - she turned around to face the man. The young woman's hazel colored eyes widened and her bow-shaped lips parted. Constantine just realized that this was the girl he spotted during the finale. She was still speechless. He cleared his throat and stepped back as a sad glow found its way to his eyes.

- I didn't mean to frighten you. - the woman shook her head with a smile, kind of awkwardly.

- Oh my, no, you didn't! - she stuttered a bit. - I just... - she flashed a perky little smile as she looked into the man's dark brown eyes. - ...I just got starstruck.

Constantine smiled back at the woman. He immediately felt happier, knowing that his appearance didn't frighten her... Not like many others. Most normal people felt either disgust or fear when stood face to face before him. But it looked like this woman was fairly different. He bowed a little. As he did, he heard children giggling from the back. He looked at them, a boy and two girls. The boy's brown skin was spotted with white patches, like he got sprinkled with white paint. The girls looked normal. He winked at them, which made them giggle even harder. Constantine's smile widened. Oh how he loved kids. They were much more accepting than grown adults. He looked back at the woman, who crossed her hands before her chest and rested her head on one of her fists. He couldn't help but glance at the young woman's soft feminine figure - which her corset emphasized even more - as he faced her again.

- It seems you have one less children then you had before. - the woman rubbed her temples and growled.

- Yes, my little Melody decided to sneak away from my watchful eyes... - she opened her eyes and pointed at the greek man. - Wait. From where do you know I had 4 children with me? - Constantine shrugged, held a hand up, rubbed his scrag with his other hand and smiled widely.

- You were the loudest members of the audience tonight. - the kids all giggled from the background, just as the woman they were with. The woman's glance ran all through the tattoed man face, not too conspicuously. But Constantine kind of noticed that her glance stayed a bit on his mustache... Or his lips? It was hard to tell. - Well, I hardly think that your little escapee will be somewhere here. - Constantine pointed back to the staircase. - Would you like to come into our quarters with me to see if she sneaked up there? - a relieved smile found its way to the woman's face.

- Yes, thank you so much! - she sighed and tilted her head. - That would literally save my job! - she turned to the children and crouched down before the eldest looking girl. - Alice, would you be a lamb and watch after the others?

- I'm the man, I should take care of the girls! - said the boy with a pout as he crossed his arms before his chest. The woman stroked his face with a gentle look.

- Yes, Jacob, you will be a wonderful gentleman one day, but right now Alice is the ranking member of our party of criminals. - she kissed the boy's forehead, scruffed his hair, then looked at so-called Alice. - So, honey? - the girl did a courtesy.

- Yes, Miss Munroe. - she got a kiss on her forehead as well. The woman stood up and faced the tattoed man. The Prince gave her his hand.

- Shall we? - Miss Munroe put her hand in the man's palm. Constantine gulped. Yes, several woman gasped at the site of his muscular body and tattoes and awed as he flexed on stage, but he couldn't go near any them... Once the show was over, he was a freak in their eyes again. But not to this woman. There wasn't a spark of disgust in her eyes. No. Constantine only saw the colors of autumn leaves, rays of sunshine and appreciation in her eyes. It was so weird for him. Weirdly comforting.

As they started ascending the stairs, hand in hand, the man helping the woman, Constantine started conversation.

- So tell me, what are these children doing with you? You are pretty young to be a mother of four. - he said with a cheeky halfsmile. The woman jokingly punched his shoulder with the hand he wasn't holding.

- Mind you, sir, I'm 24! Almost a spinster. - she said with a laugh. Constantine glanced at the woman with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

- You're still younger then me, little missy. I'm 30. You could call me a spinster as well. - the young woman stopped at the top of the stairs. Her eyes widened with disbelief.

- You are a bachelor? - she pointed her index finger at the man, touching the tattoed heart on his chest. - You?! - he leaned closer to the young woman. His sparkly dark blue makeup made the mischievous look in his brown eyes even more dangerous.

- I hope not for long. - the woman bit her lower lip while flashing a playful smile. Constantine winked. He stepped back and opened the first door. Lentini's room. He looked around, not a single child in sight. Constantine shook his head at the woman. She sighed. They started to walk towards the next door.

- You are right though, I am not their mother. I am their teacher. - Constantine flashed an amazed, impressed look. - I work in a rich people's orphanage, you know. I teach orphaned upper class little kids history, music and literature. - Constantine stopped, opened the next door and looked into his own room. No one was there. When he stepped back to the woman, she was looking down at the children who were playing tag in the circus ring. She smiled caringly. - I brought these kids here to show them the wonders of humankind. That there are many shapes and colors of humans and they are all beautiful. - Constantine stepped closer to her, hands crossed before his chest.

- That's a rare opinion. - he said as he leaned against the wooden parapet. The woman shrugged.

- Most people are unfortunately narrow-minded. - she looked back at the man. - I want to teach younglings that they shouldn't be narrow and dark as a corridor. - Constantine let out a laugh at the girl's joke. She smiled as well. - You know, kids in our orphanage are very restricted, so...

- You sneaked them out, I suppose. - he chimed in as he opened the door to the room of Deniel, The Lord of Leeds. Not a soul there neither. The woman put her left hand in the air and her right on her chest as Constantine looked back at her.

- Guilty, your honor. - she lowered her hands. While walking, she was twiddling with her thin bracelets. She had at least 3 on each hand. - I sneak different children out every day, so each one of them could see your daring acts. - she shrugged and pushed a flock of hair away from her eyes. - Plus I like it here. - Constantine stepped to the next door. There was faint music coming out.

- Just a second, darling. - he opened the door after knocking. His colleague was sitting on his sofa, reading a book about Napoleon. - Hey Charles, have you seen a little girl running around here?

- About this tall, pretty golden curls... - said and showed the woman as she stack her head in under Constantine's muscular arm. She waved with a wide smile. - Hi, sorry to bother you, sir. - Charles closed his book and jumped off his sofa. He was 130 centimeters, max. He walked up to them.

- Lost kid, aye? - he shook his head. - No, I haven't. Sorry, ducky. - as soon as Miss Munroe left the room, Charles tucked on the leaving Constantine's trousers. He started whispering. - Hey, Prince! - he pointed after the young woman. - New girl in the crew? - Constantine shook his head and waved his hand. Charles looked after the woman and flashed a toothy grin. - She's pretty, invite her out! - Constantine rolled his eyes and pushed the short man away. He closed the door behind him. The woman was blushing. Oh Hell, she heard Charles...

- I'm here, sorry. - Miss Munroe waved.

- No problem. - they started to walk towards the next door. The girl looked down at her shoes, still blushing a little. - You know, it's kind of fortunate that Melody got lost. I really wanted to tell you that I loved your act. - Constantine stopped. - I've seen like 5 shows already and your act was always my favourite. - the greek's chin dropped a bit. The woman lowered her voice as she looked deep into the tall Prince's eyes. - You're really talented. - Constantine chuckled nervously and scratched his scruff. Nobody from the outer world told him personally that they liked his act yet...

- I'm just throwing around tridents... - the woman stepped closer to him. Even in her heels, that made a clanking sound with every step, she was way shorter than Constantine. And she was intimately close.

- But you do it with style and elegance. - she looked down at his chest, then back to his eyes. Her minxy little smile made Constantine see stars and those cute dimples in her cheeks made him weak in the knees. - And your aim is phenomenal.

- T...thank you... - he stuttered. He didn't know what else he could do so he quickly opened up the door that was behind him. The owner of the room let out a little scream. Constantine faced her with a nervous smile and a shaky voice. - Lettie! Darling dear! - he grabbed the towel which was still on his shoulder, and wiped the sweat off from his forehead. What the hell has gotten into me?! - Have you seen a little girl? About ye tall, with golden locks... - the bearded woman reached down.

- You mean this little angel? - she lifted a little girl up from the floor. She was about 4 years old, had golden hair, piercing blue eyes and dark caramel skin and was playing with a fan. Her blue eyes lit up as she looked at the young woman. Miss Munroe gasped and opened up her arms.

- Melody! - the little girl put the fan down and ran to her and hugged her teacher's neck, who hugged her back. - Sweetie, what did I tell you about running off? - she placed a kiss on the top of the child's head. - You scared the hell out of me, I was so worried! - Constantine watched as the young woman peppered kisses all over the little girl's head. She looked so caring... - You little nasty... - she let go of the little girl and looked at Lettie. She put her hand on her chest. - Thank you so much for taking care of her! - Lettie smiled back at her and nodded. - I'm happy she was in good hands. - the woman reached down to lift little Melody up to her hip. Constantine put his hands before her, blocking her reach.

- Oh nonono, I'm the stronger one, I'll carry her. - the woman's mouth opened, trying to say something, but in the end she stayed quiet. She closed her mouth with a smile and stepped back so Constantine could pick up the child. He grunted as he put Melody on his hip. - Wooh you're a heavy one! - the little girl looked down to her teacher. - Hey honeybee! - Constantine lifted the little girl's chin up, causing her to giggle. His eyes lit up and he smiled widely. - Hi! Did you like the show? - Melody nodded enthusiastically. Constantine squeaked. - Aw you did? That's awesome! Who was your favorite? - the little child looked back at Lottie and pointed at her.

- The bearded lady. She has the voice of an angel. - Lottie awed and rubbed her eyes. Melody looked back at Constantine and put her little hands on his face. - And you. Your drawings are pretty. - Constantine gasped.

- Thank you! Tell you what, I did some myself! - he held up his left hand and showed her his big palm. There was a tiny birdie in the middle of it. - Look! - Melody let go of the tattooed man's bearded face and touched the bird in his palm. Miss Munroe gestured 👌 to Constantine with a wink. She waved to Lottie and exited the room. Constantine nodded with a smile towards the bearded woman. - Thanks Lettie!

When they reached the end of the stairs, Constantine threw the girl up in the air, then started to lower her towards the ground slowly. She was giggling hard.

- Here we are, little honeybee! I'm gonna put you down, okay? - the little girl hugged the Prince's knees, then ran after her friends. Miss Munroe fiddled with her hair as they looked at each other with the bearded man. She looked down with a cheesy little smile, then back at Constantine.

- Hey kids! - she called out, still facing the man who now leaned against the banisters. - Could you wait for me at the exit? - the four children ran towards the exit. Little Melody slowed down for a second before Constantine, just to say:

- Byebye, pretty mister! - Constantine waved back to her with a smile and blew her kisses.

As soon as the kids disappeared, the woman stepped closer to him with a welcoming smile on her face and with glistening eyes, like they were filled with thousands of fireworks.

- Well, thank you very much for helping me. - she sighed. - Now all I have to do is sneak the kids back into the orphanage. - for a couple seconds, Constantine thought that that was all she wanted to say. But she took a deep breath and started talking while gesturing heavily. - Look, most of the time I'm the one who gets invited, so this is kind of a first for me. - she breathed out and locked eyes with the Prince. - As an acknowledgement for your helpfullness, would you accompany me to dinner tomorrow?

Constantine gawped. He almost fell over by the surprise, but quickly regained his composure. He shook his head and cleared his throat.

- Dinner as in... - he asked hastily.

- As in you and me eating at a restaurant. - came the quick answer from the young lady. Her cheeky half smile and her cute dimples already made Constantine melt. - Just you and me, no kids or colleagues. - she explained. It would be so nice... But...

- I don't know... - he anwered with a shaky voice. He suddenly felt the worst anxiety and unsteadiness he experienced in a long time. He looked down at his shoes and sighed. - I mean... - he looked back up at her and raised his hands. - Look at me. - he rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue in an annoyed way. - People always stare at me and chase me away eventually. I... - he got stopped by Miss Munroe's hand stroking his beard. He gasped at the sudden touch. The clanking of her bracelets sounded like windchimes on a sunny morning. She smiled warmly.

- Well, all I see is a handsome, fine young man. - Constantine didn't say a word. He just... Couldn't. He couldn't find his voice. Which was not a fortunate thing in this situation. After a couple seconds of awkward silence, the woman let go of his face and stepped back. She anxiously bit her lower lip and looked down. - Emmm... - she stepped even further from Constantine and put her hand up in an apologetic way. - You know what, this was a way too bold idea, I'm really sorry. - she did a quick courtesy. - Good night! - and she ran off.

Constantine just stood there, touching his face where that small, delicate palm touched it with an open mouth.

- What the Hell are you doing Constantine?!? - shouted Lettie from the middle of the stairs. Did she see the whole scene?!

- What? - asked Constantine in a dumb manner, which only made Lettie come down from the stairs and slap the Prince's nape lightly. He grabbed his scrag after the slap with an "OW" sound.

- Go after her RIGHT. NOW! - said the bearded woman angrily.

- Lettie, I... - Lettie rolled her eyes and grabbed Constantine by the shoulders. Even though she was at least a head shorter than him, he still feared her more than O'Clancy, the giant.

- She invited you out on a rendezvous, you moron! - since being terrifying didn't work, she huffed, closed her eyes for a second, than continued in a much calmer tone. - Don't screw this up, Constantine, please... - the Prince wanted to say something but Lettie signaled to him that he should shut the hell up. So he just sighed. - You know I have a good knowledge of character. Trust me. - she cupped the tattoed man's face in her palms and looked deep into his eyes. - She is not like Selena. I know it. She is not going to break you heart. - she let the man hardened into stone go and pointed towards the entrance with a small laugh. - Run after her you idiot or you'll miss your chance! - Constantine shook his head to gain back his confidence, planted a soft kiss on Lettie's face and ran like his life depended on it.

When he reached the exit, he pushed the doors wide open. The warm wind of June brushed through his hair as he looked around, trying to find the woman he helped out. He spotted a carriage, and Miss Munroe as she loaded the kids into it. Constantine ran towards them and almost tripped just before reaching his destination. When he finally got hold of the chariot, he huffed out, basically bent in half before the woman he met earlier. His heart was beating like a drum in his chest. God he hated to run.

When he finally straightened himself up, the young woman he was facing almost burst out into laughter but was trying really hard to cover it. So she cleared her throat.

- Hello, Miss Munroe! Again. - Constantine scratched his scruff anxiously. - Umm, when do you finish at work? - the woman's eyes lit up with excitement and mischief. She started putting her weight from one leg to another, like a deb before her first ball.

- At 4 in the afternoon. You?

- If I don't perform at the night show, then at around 5. - he stepped closer to Miss Munroe with a light smile that turned more and more confident with every passing second. - What do you say, could we meet at around 6 o'clock? - the girl jumped a bit as she clapped her tiny hands together.

- Absolutely! So, meet you here tomorrow? - Constantine hesitated.

- Not eeeexaaaaactly, I think the back entrance would be safer for you. - he pointed at one of the threatening boards that was left on the stairs of the circus. - You know, the protesters... - Miss Munroe nodded enthusiastically, with a wide smile.

- Oh yes. Absolutely. See you tomorrow then. - she said as she grabbed the handrail of the rig. But Constantine grabbed her hand.

- Wait! You forgot to tell me your first name. - the woman stepped back to the ground and pulled a lock of hair beneath her ear.

- Oh, it's... - it sounded like she hesitated for a bit. - Hazel. - she offered her hand for shaking. - I'm Hazel Munroe. - but Constantine didn't shake her hand. He gently held it, turned it flatways, bowed and blew a gentle kiss on her hand. He was pretty sure he felt the girl tremble.

- It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Hazel Munroe. I am Constantine. - her eyes narrowed.

- Like your stagename? - Constantine rolled his eyes with a devilish smile as he stood back up.

- Well... It's actually Prince Constantine. The tattoed héros of Greece. - Hazel giggled. The Prince let her hand go, so she stepped closer to the man.

- Alright. I can't wait to see you again, your majesty. - the man sighed with an eyeroll, but turned to stone when Hazel planted a kiss on his beard. He watched her with wide eyes as she pulled herself into the carriage. - Have a good night! - she waved goodbye and disappeared into the night.

Oh, it certainly will be good.

#fanfic #fanfiction #the greatest showman #prince constantine #The tattoo man #tattoed man #musical #The greatest showman oc #pt barnum #lettie lutz #Frank Lentini #Circus #phineas taylor barnum