#fun fact! i spent so long rendering this and that was fine i liked it! but then trying to figure out text to go on the papers was a Thing

[thatblondeperson]

It is hard to explain for those not experiencing it.

As a child I spent a lot of time planning my dream wedding, reading romantic stories, acting out long term romantic plots with my Bratz dolls akin to a soap opera, over romanticizing crushes and writing songs and poetry to Joe Jonas. I have always considered myself a hopeless romantic. I still am. Even after being avoided as a piece of the dating pool in my teenage years save for one invitation to a dance, I still put a heavy focus on romance in my life. Just not tangibly for myself. I look back at hopeful diary entries and pages and pages full of lyrics about experiences I didn’t actually have, almost writing fanfictions about myself that were left unfinished. Looking back, I can see the signs that pointed me to where I am now, but the pain of all those dreams being rendered naïve and fruitless isn’t resolved by simply saying, “I am asexual and aromantic. I m not alone.”

I am alone.

It’s a hard concept to discuss when you’re always surrounded by others who don’t experience life the way that you do. Many are very understanding, but then of course you get the “well maybe you’ll find someone like you!” optimism that’s so easily thrown out for others when you’re used to having a larger dating pool to choose from.

Asexuals make up what, 2-4% of the population according to currently available data? Lets be generous and say 4%. You have to subtract women from that for myself, since I don’t feel any aesthetic attraction to potentially dating women. That lowers the percentage to just men and nonbinary folk. Remove from that everyone who isn’t my age, and then again everyone who doesn’t live in my vicinity. Then of course narrowing it down to those with similar interests as me since that’s desperately important to me and the pool is suddenly much smaller. This is all of course banking on the fact that going on dates does not send me into such a severe panic attack and deep pit of self loathing that is nearly unrecoverable from and I bolt as soon as I start to crumble inwards.

Which is basically why allosexuals are mostly off the market for myself as the societal pressure that hangs over my head and the pace difference between people with normal desires versus myself is literally too much for me to handle. Plus the joy of being told you’re “not worth the wait” by more than one gentleman caller.

So “maybe you’ll find someone like you!” doesn’t really work out when you break it down from a more logical standpoint that gets more cynical with each passing year.

And the acceptance does come, and you joke about being asexual and a virgin and being a perpetually single pringle. It’s fun, and you mesh well with others and you don’t feel totally out of place with the people around you. Life is fine. You’re here and you’re living it and it’s fine.

But your friends are going on dates, making connections, suddenly posting fun romantic pictures with significant others and then they’re married and there’s a baby on the way and suddenly you feel all alone again.

I’m not gonna read the sob story of how I’ve actually been left behind by friends once they got partners, it’s self explanatory. Couples group together, or people get so absorbed in their relationship that they have little time for friends so where does that leave someone like myself? A single person who doesn’t bring much to the table other than an occasional laugh and a random factoid about something you didn't know. It’s not much when you want to talk to others about the joy of being in love and all that fun stuff.

And I get jealous and selfish. Is it wrong for me to hope that someone else stays single with me? Absolutely. And I don’t even really want that because I want my friends to be happy, I want them to live their lives the way they desire and I want them to find someone they deserve who gives them everything they want and more. But I don’t want to be left behind, the solitary single-celled organism in an otherwise evolved ecosystem. I don’t want to be alone in this, but I know I mostly am and it sucks, it hurts, and people who aren’t like me have no idea what that crushing weight of inadequacy and ostracization feels like. Society was not made for me, and I can’t shape myself to fit society without potentially seriously traumatizing myself. 

And what’s worse is I know that an entire childhood of buildup for some great romance does make for some situational issues like when drunk!Sofie gets really affectionate, probably due to some psychological issue with being touch starved despite not wanting to be touched as soon as I’m sober. This gives people the wrong idea because drunk!Sofie and sober!Sofie are vastly different people and then I'm leading people on unintentionally. And is there some link with all of this to the trauma I experienced at 8 years old? I don’t fucking know and that’s something I can never get full closure on. Would this all be fixed if I just fucked someone and got it over with? I don’t know and I’m pretty sure I’d cry during that experience and fall into a deep depression because I’d be forcing myself so far out of my comfort zone that I don’t think I’d ever find my way back.

And I look at my friends being happy or trying to be and all I feel is this selfish sinking feeling of “what about me?” while the space around me gets darker and emptier and I worry that soon it will just be me playing with my Bratz dolls again and acting out the things I can never have.

Why me? Why can’t I have any of that? What did I do to end up like this? Why do people like me even exist? Surely I’m an evolutionary mistake in the grand scheme of how ecosystems work, so perhaps me dying alone is the universes way of correcting a faux pas. “Throw that one back into the void, it wasn’t supposed to exist.” It doesn’t feel fair to have all the theoretical desires of human existence but just never want to put them into practice. I GET romance. I GET intimacy. I GET all of the things that make everyone else feel happy and loved and secure and sure of life and what it’s supposed to all mean. So why don’t I get to have it? Understanding isn’t enough when you flinch and twitch at the thought of people getting too close, because eventually they will want more than you can give, and you understand and respect that but you cannot be the person they need. People have needs, and I can’t oblige those happily.

I shouldn’t be so distressed when anyone shares any detail of their life that has to do with anything relating to romantic relationships at all, but I can’t help it. I wish I could. I can’t help wishing it was all simple again and we were all back at the same level. Young and awkward and confused with little to no experience to speak of. It feels like I’m trapped in the past, a child walking around in an adult’s body. They’re all happy, and I’m jealous because I want that, and I’m scared that they’ll leave me behind because who wants to drag their childish friend along while you could be out with other adults having a normal fucking life?

And I’m angry because it’s not fair. It’s not fucking fair. No one else has to deal with this. Which I know isn’t true but statistically from my tangible zone here, it’s just me and I’m stuck feeling like the world is going by and I’m standing still waiting for a miracle to “fix” me. I can read a million posts that tell me I’m not broken, but it doesn’t matter because I still feel it and I don’t want to. It sucks, I want to feel normal. I want to be normal. I want the normal life that everyone else on the fucking planet is promised.

I don’t want to be selfish, I don’t want to be jealous, I don’t want to feel like I’m losing everyone around me just because I’m the outlier in the existence we’re all inhabiting. It’s not fair to them and it’s not healthy for me to constantly dwell on things that aren’t even happening. But fear is tricky, and it does things to you that over time, just messes up your outlook on everything, even other people's happiness. 

And I’m sorry. I’m deeply sorry for anyone who may have had to face my cynical self projection of my own perpetual loneliness, because explaining all of this is too hard for me and what it really boils down to is me trying to tell people that I don’t want to lose them, and I don’t want to be left behind. 

Please don’t leave me behind.

#personal #tmi #asexual #asexuality #aromantic #aromantism #lgbt #lgbtq #lgbtqia #queer #loneliness

[jupitermelichios]

So I’ve been playing a lot of skyrim lately, because it’s video game comfort food, and I decided it was time for my Redguard Dovahkiin to settle down. (Actually I specifically just wanted to be able to adopt some of the random orphans you meet because I felt guilty about them, but you need to be married before you can do that so that there’s someone at home to take care of the kids while you’re off galivanting).

So I travelled around a bit, chatting up likely looking npcs until I found one I both liked and didn’t feel guilty about marrying (I feel bad if I marry one of the warrior adventurer types, making them be a stay at home mum) and settled on an obnoxiously cheerful argonian called Shavee because her life was frankly shit, and I thought she’d probably be good with kids.

So off I go to Riften to the Temple of Mara to arrange the wedding. I book it in for the next day, realise I didn’t bring anything nice to wear, and spend the night before the wedding robbing every house in the city in the search for something to wear. Eventually decide everyone in Riften has terrible fashion sense and break down everything I stole into raw materials and use them to craft myself an outfit and some jewellery that i’m pretty happy with. I even carefully pick out my fanciest looking sword to wear.

(don’t know why I bothered, frankly, shavee turned up wearing a shirt covered in suspicious stains and weilding a pickaxe, it’s like she doesn’t even care about this marriage)

(also for comedy purposes, bear in mind I play with survival mods that mean my character needs to eat and sleep to live, and I literally spent the entire ingame night on this and forgot to eat and drink anything either and then just downed four bowls of wolf stew right before entering the temple so I didn’t starve during the ceremony. also I discovered during the wedding that I am dying of rockjoint, which I contracted from sleeping in a pile of hay on the floor of a skeever infested cave, so even being six foot tall and jacked can’t make up for the fact that I am exhausted, running a fever, and probably covered in wolf which I spilled because my joints are slowly atrophying, and even the fanciest clothes in the world aren’t going to cover that up)

so I enter the temple, and my finance is there, and Lydia my housecarl, and some random NPCs the game thinks are my friends because I did fetch quests for them

One of the random NPCs is Lisbet. Atfter I did her fetch quest, I then did another quest in which I discovered Lisbet is secretly a cannibal and part of a demonic cult that worships the daedric prince of decay by kidnapping priests, sacrificing them, and then eating their corpses. Raw. I think the raw meat is the sticking point for me here honestly.

I ultimately decided not to sacrifice the random priest to a daedric prince in exchange for one magic ring and all the raw human I could eat, because frankly, that doesn’t sound like much of a deal to me. I was expecting there to be some kind of dialogue choice where I could nope out at the last minute, but it turns out there isn’t one, so after they drugged the priest and tied him to the altar, I just got out my sword and started swinging.

I killed most of the cult (including the town butcher, because I had brought meat from him before and was extremely pissed off that he might have been secretly feeding me humans) but a couple of them got away, which I figured was fine because they weren’t trying to kill me.

Except it turns out, if any of them escape, then every time you see them in the future there’s a random chance that they’ll fly into a violent rage and try and murder you.

Lisbet is at my wedding. Lisbet decides that clearly me marrying this random argonian woman with two lines of dialogue is the happiest day of my life, and she cannot allow me that happiness, when I’ve taken so much from her.

So she tries to kill me. Only she can’t, because I’m stuck in a pre-rendered wedding animation, and also she’s sitting next to Lydia, my faithful retainer and owner of a really big axe.

It also turns out that Lisbet is essential, meaning she can be knocked unconcious but not actually killed because she’s needed for some quest or other. And the minute she wakes up from unconciousness, she tries to kill me again, so Lydia knocks her unconcious again, and I’m stuck, I can’t move, because I’m supposed to be in the wedding animation.

Except Shavee has, not unreasonably, see all this and decided that she doesn’t like me enough to risk getting murdered, and has done a runner, leaving me at the altar, but more importantly, leaving me trapped in a broken pre-rendered animation, so all I can do is stand there at the altar, staring at the space where my fiance was supposed to be, listening to the sounds of Lydia trying and failing to beat a cannibal to death behind me.

Okay, I think, clearly this wedding isn’t going to happen, I’m going to go for the registry office option and complete the wedding using the dev commands. I do this. The priest gives me a wedding ring, and I can finally move again. I chase after Shavee, who has an impressive turn of speed on her, and eventually catch up right by the city gates. I try to talk to her.

Apparently using the console has completed the wedding for me, but not for her, because she still only has the same 2 lines of dialogue she usually has.

Clearly this is working, I can’t leave my kids with someone who can only say 2 things and doesn’t even know she’s their mum, that’s irresponsible.

I try loading from inside the temple. I get the same problem.

Eventually I figure out that I need to use the dev controls to disable Lisbet’s entire existence in the universe.

Shavee and me get married. As the priest reads the vows, I stare at Shavee and wonder why she couldn’t even be bothered to put on a clean shirt. I wonder what kind of mother she’ll be.

Once the ceremony is over, and I’m happily married to the dirty green lizard of my dreams, and we’ve agreed that until I can make her recognise my extremely nice modded house exists I will share her single bed in the unheated flophouse in Windhelm she calls home, I re-enable Lisbet, because I’m worried I’ll forget if I leave it too long.

Fun fact about skyrim, it loads in quite a lot of npcs and objects by dropping them from the sky. I have no idea why this is the case, but it’s objectively the funniest way to load in objects.

I re-enable Lisbet. She falls from the sky, clips through the roof of the temple, and lands in the pew beside Lydia, stands up, draws a knife, and is immedately beaten unconcious.

I no longer care, because Shavee now has all the exciting new spouse-only romantic dialogue options like “Could you cook something for me” and “have you made any money lately”, and I know she’ll be a great mother.

I limp to the door of the temple, while around me the guests not involved in the Lydia-Lisbet murder cycle scream and duck for cover.

I open the door to the temple, immediately collapse and ragdoll down the steps, which is how I discover I am dying of rockjoint.

I limp to the orphanage down the street, adopt two kids, and then finally remember that I’m carrying garlic bread, which as we all know, cures all known illnesses.

When I emerge back into the street, full of the joys of motherhood and garlic bread, I find the town in disaray. Lydia is chasing Lisbet through the streets with an axe and a dragon is circling overhead, burning npcs to death. People are running for shelter, screaming, while the guards try to take down an entire dragon using only the worst bows and arrows in the game.

I decide that as a parent, I have to think of my own safety first and leave them to it.

I head out of the city, intent on returning home and figuring out why Shavee refuses to move in with me. A man hanging around the stables challenges me to a boxing match. For want of anything better to do, I agree.

Halfway through the fight he dodges at the wrong moment and I punch one of his horses in the head.

Two guards attack me while I desperately try to surrender. My kids will miss me, but I’m prepared to go to jail for my horse crimes, I’m an honest citizen. Also my horse crimes seem somewhat less important than the dragon.

The guards refuse to accept my surrender. I am stabbed to death. As I collapse in front of the indifferent horse, Lisbet exits the city, followed by Lydia. The last thing I see before I die is Lydia swinging her axe at Lisbet’s face.

#skyrim #spoilers #technically #although this game is a decade old and we all own at least two versions of it at this point #so i'm not sure it counts #long post

[lovebykai]

Feel Good Drag

》 Pretty Girl - Part 3

Word Count: 4.2K

Warning(s): Random Necessary OCs. Smut. Non-Consensual Recording. Dub-Con? Toxic Behavior. Mentions of Violence. Reader Is A Bitch. Emotional Sadomasochism. Masturbation.

Pairing: Ran x Fem!Reader x Rindou

Authors Note: FINALLY. God, I've had some of these scenes in my head since I wrote the first part and I just went, "No, these deserve a whole fic, no drabbles." Hope you guys appreciate it.

You moved on.

After Toman disbanded and the Haitani brothers ended up doing more time, you realized if you didn't get out right then you were never going to. Did you really want to be a delinquent all your life? Spend years waiting on those two to bounce back to you? No, no you didn't.

So you got some therapy, a decent job, and got the fuck out of Roppongi.

"So you're going out with us tonight, right?" You looked to the ceiling for patience as your coworker threw her arms around your shoulders and peered at you with a grin.

She was fun. Mischievous and adventurous and the polar opposite of you; that huge difference in personality was what made the two of you work. Lately she was super hung up on the idea of coaxing you into a threesome with her boyfriend and it had become something of a joke. It'd probably be a fun experience if the news of them getting out a month ago hadn't rendered you unable to think about anything else.

Did they know you'd run? Were they looking for you? Did they miss you?

"Leave Y/N alone, Yui." Her boyfriend tugged her to him, laughing. He was a genuinely nice guy, and that was half the problem. You had yet to figure out what his appeal was. Fuck, you couldn't even remember his name.

"But babe!" Yui whined, pouting at you when he just rolled his eyes affectionately, and you offered her a grin.

"It's that new club in Roppongi! C'mon, it'll be so much fun. Please? Sai is gonna buy our drinks." She wiggled her eyebrows and her boyfriend gave her an incredulous look.

"I am?" You couldn't help but laugh as you finished unpacking the new merchandise, eyeing some of the sleazy dresses. It might be fun.

"Fine, you can bring what's-his-face too." The one sided negotiation was finally starting to amuse you.

"You mean my boyfriend?" Yui looked so scandalized you snorted in laughter, shaking your head and thumbing a particularly skimpy dress.

"God, you made it official? But you guys have, like, no chemistry."

"He's a good guy." It was natural to defend him.

He was a text book definition good guy, in fact. So far removed from your type that he may as well be on a different planet. But he was going to be a lawyer and took you to nice restaurants. His family was sweet. White picket fence with two kids and a dog was what he expected, and you were prepared to deliver on it.

Because that was normal.

"He's boring, and he'll make you miserable. Mark my words, Y/N, he's not the one." When you didn't engage the line of conversation, she went back to trying to weasel an agreement from you.

What if you run into them? The thought shouldn't have sent your heart racing, and you clicked your tongue in annoyance. How would you know if your coping skills were working if you didn't test them? That was reasonable, right? Right?

And... you should say goodbye, right? Sure, they'd spent more time away from you than with you, but the bond you three had was intense. It'd be disrespectful to just ghost them. Yep. That made sense.

"As long as you're letting me mooch off you all night, cause I'm broke as fuck 'til next Friday." You finally sighed, smirking when she squealed and agreed, bouncing on her heels.

* * *

Your boyfriend had tests to study for, which was fine because you really didn't want him there anyway, and neither did Yui. Not that you'd ever admit it; you feigned just enough disappointment to be socially acceptable while she chattered about how cute the little pink dress you'd bought was.

The back was open and it barely covered your thighs, which left you looking a bit slutty with your heels, but that was kinda the point. A quick 'wish you were here' selfie for your busy boyfriend and viola! you were free of your obligation to cater to his disappointment.

Thus, Yui started plying you with alcohol.

You danced and laughed and took videos. Fuck, you even let her grind on you for her man's viewing pleasure before he hauled her off to the bathroom after a confirmation that, no, you were not interested in participating.

It was hard pretending you gave a fuck about any of it. The monotony was mind-numbing. Work, eat, sleep, and occasionally go out with friends. You were missing the adrenaline rush of a fight, or the comradery you'd had with Toman, even.

You'd finished your drink, enjoying being just this side of drunk and scrolling through facebook to occupy your thoughts for a bit. You doubted what's-his-fuck -- someday you'd remember his name, you vowed, because that's what normal friends did -- would keep Yui gone for long, but it was never fun being left alone in a dimly lit nightclub booth.

"This seat taken?" You hummed noncommittally, chin propped up in your palm.

Kou: Come over tonight? I miss you. :(

The text actually made you cringe. Maybe he wasn't the one you should be settling for. Surely there were some normal guys that weren't quite... this bland. There wasn't even anything wrong with him. On paper he was perfect marriage material. Why were you like this?

Y/N: Sure! I'll text when we leave. :)

With that painful exchange done, you looked up to see if the guy really had decided to sit with you and promptly dropped your phone. It clattered loudly and you winced, hoping you hadn't just fucked the screen up.

"Ran!?" He was mimicking your previous pose with an amused expression, batting long lashes at you teasingly.

"Y/N." Sliding you a drink, he smiled and you returned the gesture broadly.

"Well, that's embarrassing. Hi, how've you been?" You laughed sheepishly, pressing a hand to your heated cheek.

"I've been just lovely, sweetheart, how about you? Anything interesting happen while we were away?" Practically vibrating in your seat, you took a sip of his offering before licking your lips. Man, you were too drunk to properly combat the urge to preen under his gaze as it dipped to your exposed cleavage.

"Mm, got a job, moved into a shitty apartment, made some friends." You shrugged after ticking off the main points, popping the straw back into your mouth so you didn't start nibbling your fingers. Without really thinking about it, you folded your arms beneath your chest and leaned against the table. The way his gaze flickered back down to look caught your attention though.

"... Got a boyfriend." That one was a dig; you were curious to see if he reacted at all to the news. The only indication he'd heard was the slight dimming of his smile, but even that was so miniscule if you hadn't been staring so intently you'd have missed it.

"Oh?"

That was it. Oh.

"Mhmm." Your smile was threatening to become a smirk. The silence wasn't uncomfortable; you took a moment just to bask in his presence.

Your therapist had told you that you weren't in love with them. That you had an unhealthy codependency; you had somehow managed to fall into hero worshiping them for standing up for you as children.

You begged to differ.

"Do I know him?" Violet eyes were shining eerily; you knew you were probably swooning, but he was so fixated on the idea of you being in a relationship that he wouldn't notice.

"Nope. He's in school to be a lawyer, though, so you might in a couple years." That dig had been an accident. The filter between your brain and mouth had apparently shut off at some point. Rans eyebrows shot up, but his grin only widened.

"You seem like you've got something to say." He commented laughingly and it doused your amusement.

"Just that I'm done with the gangster shit. I don't want to be involved in it. I like my life the way it is now."

"That sounds a lot like you're breaking up with me, little lamb." It was said teasingly -- because it wasn't as if you could really even be called together in any capacity anymore -- but his smile was gone. The narrowing of his eyes forced yours down to the drink you were sipping at.

Your therapist would have been proud of you for confronting this problem. Maybe not the way you'd went about it, but the closure would do you good. You were an addict, and the Haitani brothers had been your drug of choice. Being around them was a shitty idea, and you needed to make it clear that you didn't want them around.

It was a lie, but you'd worked too fucking hard to get yourself back on track in life to let them fuck this up for you.

Boundaries. You were setting boundaries.

"I guess I am." The words instantly killed your good mood. It was like someone had hit you in the gut; Rans eyes widened in surprise and the urge to chew at your fingertips couldn't be ignored anymore.

You wanted to take it back.

Something in you was twisting and clawing and burning as you moved to stand on shaking legs. No. No. Nononono-- before you could slip away, his hand darted out and you were hauled back. The edge of the table caught your hip; the hiss of pain drowned out by the thump of the bass as Ran dragged you sideways into his lap.

"No." His arms may as well have been steel beams for all your squirming to escape did.

"No? You can't just say no, Ran! That's not how this works."

"Like Hell it isn't. You're ours." It was growled out as his nails dug into your hips; the shudder that rattled your form made him let out a soft huff of satisfaction.

"I can't do this with you right now," You wished your voice wasn't wavering, it would have helped make your case. "I don't want to, and I don't have to. Let go!" Kicking your legs petulantly didn't make his grip loosen at all but you were vaguely aware you probably flashed some fortunate souls.

"Fuck that!" Ran gripped your jaw hard enough you suspected it would bruise and forced you to look up at him. "You think you're going to find someone better and run off? Think you're too good for me and Rin anymore?"

"Yeah, thats exactly what I'm doing, you asshole. They'll be better for me and I won't end up getting the shit kicked out of me on the daily, or waiting around for you two to get done doing time!"

"They'll be better for you, maybe, but not like us. Nobody will ever love you like we do, Y/N."

The sound of Rindous calm voice cut through the noise of the club and you felt the stupid starry-eyed look coming over your face.

Love?

They loved--

"What? That all you needed to hear? Way to be basic, babygirl." Ran clicked his tongue, licking his lips when you tried to jerk your face out of his grip. It was half-hearted. If you'd really wanted to fight back it wasn't as though you didn't remember how to throw a punch.

Rindous fingers danced along your exposed spine and the tension began leaking out of your body completely; Rans punishing grip loosened. You couldn't help it-- you'd missed them.

You always missed them. That was the problem in the first fucking place.

"There's my good girl." His thumb traced your lower lip pensively for a breath before you bit it softly. It was an impulse you couldn't resist with him so close, and the way his eyes darkened in response had you squirming on his lap.

"Y/N?" Yuis gasp gave you the push you needed to jerk away from him.

Rindou sidestepped when you scrambled from the booth with a soft curse, mortification sparking in your chest. Turning a sneer their way, you grabbed your friends arm to start pushing her away from them.

Great. Worlds colliding. Fun.

"I'm not your anything." Except you were and the fact all your hard work to build yourself up was being chipped away by their mere presence was pissing you off.

Ran just snickered, long arms draping across the back of the booth and legs sprawling out beneath the too-small table. When your eyes -- the fucking traitors -- rolled down his body appreciatively, stalling out at the bulge in his jeans for a beat too long to be appropriate, you wished that the room was darker.

"This was obviously a bad time," Rindou commented as your thighs pressed together at the sudden bolt of arousal. "Here, just take our number in case you need something and we can talk another time, alright, bunny?" The nickname earned him a whimper that you couldn't quite swallow; the smirk he gave you as he grabbed your phone off the table made you dizzy. Bastards.

When he proceeded to guess your password you barked out an incredulous laugh, but you didn't try to stop him from putting in their contacts. You should have. That'd be the smart thing to do.

But if these men didn't make you fucking stupid.

"See you soon."

* * *

You were angry-- stupidly, irrationally angry when you showed up at your boyfriends apartment. Honestly, you couldn't even remember the walk there -- besides the fact Yui had thought the whole evening was hilarious as she caught a cab with Sai -- but when you let yourself inside and kicked your heels off Kou was sitting on his couch and you just snapped.

You were upset and horny and he was there-- it wasn't fucked up to have sex with him cause someone else pushed your buttons, right? After another moment you realized you didn't even care as long as you could scratch the itch. Mr. Normal could manage that much for you, surely.

"Hey!" He looked over and did a double take, eyes widening in a way that might have made you laugh if you weren't counting backwards from ten over and over. "O-Oh, you look--"

A devious idea popped into your head; you decided to quit thinking so hard as you pulled up the camera on your phone. You propped it up on the coffee table and promptly straddled him, not even checking to make sure the angle was right.

Ten.

Your lips met his harshly, grinding down against him. It took seconds for him to harden beneath you as you tugged the dress off over your head.

Nine.

"Oh." He whimpered when you tugged on his lower lip with your teeth, reaching down to hurriedly undo his pants. He whimpered. Gag.

Eight.

None of it was right. His hair was too short; you petted the strands anyway, catching what you could and tugging softly. The asshole didn't even have the sense to line himself up or anything. You realized rapidly you wouldn't be able to cum like this, but you'd be damned if you didn't try just because his last name wasn't Haitani.

Seven.

You didn't mean to roll your eyes when he started kissing at your shoulder, but seriously. There wasn't even any tongue. Did you have to do everything? Luckily you didn't need much prep thanks to your time in the club -- not that you'd ever admit it -- but he could at least do better than that.

Six.

The red haze wasn't even getting better. If anything, the fact you weren't currently on one of their laps was making you angrier. You dropped your hand back down, stroking him a few times before tugging your panties to one side, ready to be done with this whole ordeal but to nice to just leave the man hanging.

Five.

"Y/N--" His voice was wrong, so you forced his head back and pressed your lips together again. At least he caught up enough to grip your hips as you sank down onto him, even if he didn't try to control the way you rocked your hips. It did feel good, at least, stretching you well enough you let out a soft sigh of relief.

Four.

Honestly, this was probably a shock to his system, seeing as the only position you two had ever fucked in was missionary, but wasn't most of this instinct? Your hand curled around the back of his neck, digging your nails in just to make him hiss. Maybe you could get off if he could just--

Three.

"Ouch! Hold on, sweetie, slow down--" He managed to flex his fingers, but let you keep bouncing on his dick despite his protests. God, you hated this guy. No, fuck, you didn't hate him. You didn't. Realizing he wasn't going to last very long, you dipped your fingers down and strummed at your clit desperately.

Two.

He came with a whine that grated on you, but you had enough of a conscience to pet him through it like you gave a damn about how he was feeling. You couldn't even borrow his cock and pretend he was someone else to get off, but sure, let's make sure he gets the warm fuzzies. Your high was gone, so you bit back a growl of frustration and tugged your fingers from your panties.

One.

Climbing off his lap and cutting the video, you could have cried. It was three goddamn minutes.

"What was that about?" Your boyfriend asked, breathless, as he tucked himself back into his pants; hitting send, you smirked to yourself before turning to him.

"Just missed you tonight. I'm gonna go clean up." It was a few minutes before he responded, and luckily you were still in the bathroom.

Ran: My poor little lamb. I'd love to help you out, but I'm kinda busy.

The video you got in return nearly made you crack a tooth. The strands of blond wrapped around his fingers, bobbing against his crotch under the flashing lights of the club made your hands shake.

Suddenly, he made a fist and you whimpered when he forced her down roughly. The sound of her gagging nearly made you black out with rage and envy.

The camera flipped around and suddenly you were looking at Rans smug, shit-eating grin before it cut off.

Y/N: Fuck you.

You played it again, eyes watering in rage and an uncomfortable neediness that you didn't want to be feeling before slipping your fingers back into your underwear. The tears slipped free as you braced against the wall, playing the damn thing over and over and over until--

A gasp of relief left you when your knees shook, the orgasm somehow managing to line up perfectly with his smug fucking smile.

Mine.

Ran: Awh, are you mad? That's too bad.

Ran: Make sure you tell your little boyfriend I said he's welcome.

* * *

"I-I'm sorry, what?" You were more shocked than hurt as you stood at the foot of the hospital bed. It had been almost a week since you'd bumped into the Haitanis. Things between you and Kou had been going well. Normal. Everything had seemed normal.

"We should break up." He wouldn't even look at you. Probably thinking you were going to burst into tears or something, but you were slowly putting shit together in your head.

"Why?" You willed him to be honest, trying to drill a hole in the side of his head with your eyes. He'd said it was a mugging gone wrong when the cops had shown up, and you'd -- naively, perhaps -- believed him because he was kind of soft.

"Everything's just... too much. I'm too stressed out between school and work and now this a-and-- honestly, Y/N, I don't think we're a great fit."

Liar.

"I understand." Because you did. You even got the parts he wasnt saying, like: "Hey some asshole with a baton beat me stupid because you didn't dump me, isn't that nuts?"

You didn't bother with anything else, letting him think you were just too upset to say goodbye as you hurried out of the hospital. Whipping your phone out, you dialed Ran before your indignation died out.

"Yes, darling?"

"Have you lost your fucking mind? What if he tells the cops you complete fucking idi--"

"Whoa, there, baby, slow down. What are you chewing me out about?" He interrupted, sounding more serious as you tried to control your volume.

"My ex-boyfriend is in the hospital." You bit out and there was a long silence. Just as you went to make sure the call hadn't dropped, there was a sudden bout of laughter.

"And the first thing you did was start lecturing me on getting caught? I knew you still cared." He cooed and you winced. Yeah, okay, that was probably shitty of you.

"No worries, little lamb, it wasn't me."

"I call bullshit."

"Cross my heart. You're barking up the wrong tree. Personally I'm a little sad I won't get anymore videos of you--"

"Goodbye, Ran." With that you hung up with burning cheeks, glaring at the phone as though it was somehow to blame. Much more hesitantly, you eyed Rindous contact.

Surely he wouldn't have. He'd been so calm at the club, and hadn't bothered you a single time since. But Kous arm had been broken, and you'd missed the explanation on that so-- so maybe--

You hit dial before you could change your mind.

"Did you do it?" You immediately spit out in lieu of a greeting when he picked up, too scared you would lose your nerve if he spoke first.

"Yes." Leave it to Rindou not to beat around the bush.

"You're gonna get caught." The fact tears prickled at your eyes was completely out of frustration and had nothing to do with the despair that suddenly washed over you.

They could drone on and on about being together all they wanted, but the more they did stupid shit like this the more certain you were that the three of you would never get anywhere. Even if you did decide that you wanted a relationship with them, where was it even going to go with them sitting in a fucking cell for most of it?

"Where are you?" Rindou asked simply as you swiped your eyes irritably and looked around. The fact you'd been wandering aimlessly like this was a bit embarrassing, and it took a minute to orient yourself enough to give him an answer.

"Give me five minutes. Don't move." He hung up before you could bite out something rude, and while you were tempted to disobey, your feet stayed planted right where you were. You wrapped your arms around your middle, counting backwards slowly and swiping the random, offending tear.

"Shit, are you crying? Bunny, c'mere." Rindou gently grabbed the nape of your neck and led you towards a nearby alley before wrapping you up in his arms. Despite your best efforts, you couldn't contain your sniffling; he stroked your spine gently even though you refused to hug him back.

"Look, I didn't realize you really liked the guy that much. Ran showed me the--"

"You think-- you think that's why I'm--?" A slightly hysterical sob burst out of you, followed by bitter laughter.

You grasped your sudden anger -- anger at him, and Ran, and yourself -- and shoved away from him roughly. Rindou didn't even look distressed when you gave into the urge to shove him again, letting out a strangled screech.

"I'm mad because you're an idiot! Because you and your fucking brother just breeze in and out of my life like no matter what you're just entitled to my lo--" You had the sense to halt that confession, turning your back on him to start pacing.

"And now you're gonna get into more shit and you'll be gone again and--"

"Y/N, look at me."

"Fuck no! You're stupid and this is stupid and I don't even know why I'm here--" Rindou stepped into your path, grasping your face in his hands and pressing a hard kiss to your mouth. You instinctively stepped back, inhaling sharply and he pressed forward, walking you backwards until you collided with brick.

"Not gonna leave you again." It was a distracted mutter against your lips; your hands gripped at the fabric of his shirt, pulling his mouth back to yours with a groan.

"Liar." Won't leave. Loves me. Lovesmelovesmelovesme--

"Promise."

Mine. Just as he leaned in again, a phone started ringing and you actually whined when he leaned back to answer it.

"What?" Rindou listened for a moment, eyes locked on yours as he caressed your face with his free hand.

"I'm with her now, actually. Yeah, yeah." He rolled his eyes, and you smiled softly to yourself. His thumb shifted around to your lips and you nipped at it, earning a smirk.

"Fine, whatever. Bye, Ran." Much like his brother had done before, Rindou pressed his thumb against your mouth and you opened for him. This time, however, you swirled your tongue around it, and he visibly shuddered as he pulled back.

"Not the first time, pretty girl." You scoffed, rolling your eyes at the grin he was wearing and rubbing furiously at your face.

Bastards.

《 Part Two 《

》 Part Four 》

Taglist: @selfishwitch, @youpieceofwasabi

#tokyo revengers #tokyorev #pg #pretty girl #haitani ran #ran haitani #haitani rindou #rindou haitani #rindou x reader #ran x reader #haitani rindou x reader #haitani ran x reader #rindou x reader x ran #haitani rindou x reader x haitani ran #ran x reader x rindou #haitani ran x reader x haitani rindou #thesmoot #tw dubcon #k sm #k ve #✒ . kai fecit

[rocorambles]

Let's Give It A Try

Pairing: Bokuto x Reader

Genre/Warnings: NSFW, Mafia AU, Sex Toys, Overstimulation, Use of Sir, Dirty Talk, Degradation

Summary: Dating a man like Bokuto Koutarou goes against every moral code you’ve learned growing up, but love has a funny way of going against the grain.

Bokuto exhales, sighing as he leans broad shoulders against the rough exterior of the building behind him, cigarette smoke floating in tendrils in front of him. He prides himself on the strength and health of his body, but when he gets in one of his moods after a particularly strenuous week, he can’t help but rely on the way the nicotine mellows out the stress of his job. Closing his eyes, he lets the muffled beat of the music inside the club reverberate through his chest, letting himself let go just a tiny bit. Foolish maybe, considering just how many people want him dead, but he allows himself a moment of lax judgement while on his turf, literally on the ground he owns, surrounded by his men both in and out of the club, under the watchful blue eyes of his right hand man.

Everything will be just fine.

And suddenly everything’s a little bit more than just fine as his curiosity peeks, sharp owl-like eyes scanning you as you come stumbling out of the club, taking deep ragged breaths, completely unaware of your surroundings as you greedily inhale the fresh night air.

He has to bite back the sharp grin that threatens to stretch across his face at your adorable jump and squeak when you finally straighten up and take inventory of who’s around you, quivering like a little mouse when you meet his intense golden gaze. There’s something different about you and he can tell with just a quick glance at you that this isn’t your usual joint, taking in your considerably conservative and casual outfit for the area’s most popular nightclub, the nervous ticks and almost bashful way you curl in on yourself, unused to the hungry look he continues to direct at you.

It takes some coaxing and he almost feels bad at how he swears he can hear your frightened and unsure heartbeat pounding your chest as he approaches you. But his talons are out, wide eyes too curious and intrigued by the prey that’s caught his attention to just let you go off on your merry way. He croons at how you stutter, tripping over your words in your nervousness, licking his own lips for a different reason when he sees your pink muscle dart out to wet your dry ones.

But he can feel his wings furl out to their full span, can feel himself prepare to lunge at you when he finds out that his sweet little mouse came all by herself, trying to get over your recent breakup by having some fun, maybe even finding someone to…

This time he does laugh when you embarrassedly trail off, ending your anxious ramblings, before pinning you down with a wild grin that makes your chest tighten.

“I can be that someone.”

There’s something about the man that leaves you on edge. You can’t deny the fact that he’s handsome, in a wild rugged way that reminds you of a predator. But there’s something...intense about him, something in his eyes, something in his presence, something in his aura that makes you shiver, keeping your suddenly heavy feet rooted to their spot. Not that you’d get very far if he was intent on doing you harm you ascertain as you stare at the muscular and toned figure in front of you.

Yet despite all that, you can’t help but believe that he really does mean you no harm. Maybe it’s what you want to believe. A last hope and faith that not all men are scum like your ex is. Desperate to believe that there are decent men out there, that you can find happiness and maybe even love one day. So going against every ounce of self-defense and common sense that’s been instilled in you all your life, you take this stranger’s hand and let him guide you away, finding comfort in his warm, calloused grip.

Even if you do end up dead after all this, you can’t help but think you’ve made the right decision, your problem more than solved as any thoughts of your ex (and anything else really) fly out your head as soon as you’re dragged into an alarmingly luxurious apartment. He really is more animal than man and you cry out as teeth harshly dig into your neck, possessively and hungrily marking every inch of you, lips greedily wrapping around perky nipples and sucking with a force that makes your eyes roll and your nails dig into his thick biceps. But that only seems to egg him on more and you vaguely wonder if you’re going to cum before he can even get to the main course, body already overwhelmed with arousal and desire as he touches you everywhere except where you need him most.

You’re positively dripping by the time he does make it between your legs, too high strung to even be embarrassed, letting out a high pitched whine instead when he teasingly blows on your sopping wet entrance, pressing your thighs apart, leaving you on full display. And you swear you black out purely from relief when a hot wet tongue finally licks a long line up your slit. So on edge already, it only takes a few flicks and lapping of your aroused clit to have you careening off that pleasurable cliff and you sob, body thrashing and convulsing as you ride out your orgasm while lips and tongue continue to work you over.

You blearily blink as you finally regain control of your body, expecting the man between your legs to take the hint as you try to sit up on your elbows. But you scream, instantly collapsing on the bed, hands fisting in the sheets besides you as two thick fingers suddenly slip inside of you, beginning a relentless pace right from the start, hot tongue still lapping and licking at your sensitive clit. It’s too much, too soon and you writhe, body trying to pry yourself away from the torturous pleasure, but also aching for another release as the coil in you is wound tight. Not that Bokuto leaves you much choice as he easily keeps you pinned down, your legs no match for the strength of his arms and upper body as he continues to feast on you, your pretty cries and screams music to his ears, your delicious juices intoxicating. And before you even realize it, you’re forced to your second peak, creaming and clamping down on the digits still stuffed inside of you, back arching, mouth opening in a silent scream.

Surely it’s over and you tell yourself that you’ll just close your eyes for a brief moment, a few seconds at most before paying him back with a blowjob, handjob, whatever he wants in return. Except your companion has very different plans on exactly how you’ll return the favor and your eyes shoot open, pathetic pleading noises spilling past your lips as you feel something hard and thick press against your entrance. But then he’s shoving inside of you, cock splitting your spent hole in two, and your mind blanks, unable to resist, unable to enjoy, only able to take and feel as it drags against your walls, going deeper and deeper.

And that’s how you pass out, one of the last clear memories you have before your mind fades to darkness, exhaustion and bliss rendering you useless as you’re ruthlessly fucked into and used by the man above you as he chases his own end, head empty except for mindless thoughts of cock, cock, cock.

There’s a few more one night flings after that and you try and convince yourself that it’s just that, nothing more, ignoring the pang in your heart when Bokuto sends you a sad face via text when he wakes up to an empty bed, ignoring the guilt resting heavy on your shoulders when you accidentally sleep in longer than you meant to and have to pry yourself from a pouting face and gentle grip on your wrist as gold eyes plead for you to stay.

But Bokuto Koutarou always gets what he wants and you find it harder to wriggle out from his strong arms as the sun’s rays filter through the windows, you find it harder to not sit down at his dining table and stay for a piping hot cup of coffee, you find it harder not to wake up and nuzzle closer to his body, cuddling and sweetly talking with him more than a casual relationship warrants.

And you find it impossible to not say yes when he asks you to officially go out with him one lazy morning as he cradles you in his arms.

Dating Bokuto is an adventure unlike any you’ve been on before and it’s so easy to be swept along in his enthusiasm and energy, giggling like children in one moment before you’re being pounced on in the next, gold eyes darkening in raw hunger and lust. Bokuto is an enigma that you wonder if you’ll ever truly understand, so easily shifting from a cheerful goofball to a dangerous predator and back again. But you don’t mind, finding the multi-faceted personality one of his strong suits...until it isn’t anymore.

You’d always had a feeling that Bokuto was hiding something from you, some things not quite adding up, the outgoing man strangely reticent about certain topics, especially regarding his work life and where his money comes from. But you had chalked it up to your sweet boyfriend being humble, not wanting to delve too much into his enormous wealth, because he must have enormous wealth from the penthouse apartment he lives in, the extravagant vacations he whisks you away on, the luxury gifts he bestows upon you without blinking an eye. And you’re correct, just not in the way you had imagined and you tearily and accusationally glare at him when you accidentally come across the hidden switch in the back of his closet, door opening and revealing crates and crates of a white powdery substance.

You want him to laugh it off like he always does, tell you some bullshit about it being for some prank he’s going to pull on Akaashi or Konoha, that it’s not what you think it is. But he doesn’t and the two of you just silently stare at each other, the pieces connecting all too clearly even without a word being said. And you leave, betrayal and hurt digging their claws into you as you leave behind a man who you thought you had known, who you had loved, but who you realize maybe you don’t really know at all.

It feels eerily familiar, a sense of deja vu flooding you when you take hesitant steps into another nightclub in the area, desperate for another distraction, another fling to fuck you free from thoughts of gold eyes and a muscular body. You tell yourself that there’s nothing similar about the solid build of the stranger you’re grinding up against, that the similarity in appearance is just coincidence as the two of you stumble to his apartment. But then lips and hands are all over you, too gentle, too soft, treating you like glass, words too cautious. Everything’s wrong, wrong, wrong and when he begins a slow careful pace, fucking you like he’s making love, so different from the way a certain man would have broken you down to pieces only to build you back up, you shove him off, uncaring of how rude you’re being.

That night when you return to your own bed, you sob in frustration, toys, dildos, vibrators scattered around you as you seek any relief you can get, looking for even the slightest mimicry of Bokuto’s touch, trying to remember what he sounds like, what he feels like. But memory and imagination can only get you so far, can never live up to the real thing, and you scream into your pillow as an unsatisfying orgasm ripples through you, the realization that Bokuto has ruined your body for anyone else, even yourself, sinking into you.

It’s absolute stupidity to be with someone just for great sex. Absolutely ridiculous. What decent human would go crawling back to their drug-dealing ex just for his good dick game? God knows what other shady underground shit Bokuto’s up to and you know it runs much deeper than a single room full of cocaine.

But maybe you’re not a decent human. Maybe that’s why you still can’t stop thinking of him despite how you try and hold out, despite the multiple flings, nights, and even entire weekends you spend with yourself in bed, spending far too much on sex toys, pussy and clit throbbing, fingers and hands aching from constantly bending to be inside yourself. Yet for all that, you’re never satisfied, every weak orgasm, every disappointing touch from another man only making your need for Bokuto even more pronounced, until you finally break. And a month later you call Bokuto, a scrambled frantic call over the phone with a dildo shoved deep inside you, a vibrator buzzing on your clit, tears streaming down your face when they do nothing to take away the yearning inside of you, begging and pleading for him to come and help you.

It’s humiliating how even just the sight of him skyrockets your arousal to levels you haven’t felt since the two of you dated and you whimper as he casually leans in your doorway, thick arms crossed across his chest, gold eyes raking over your sweating nude figure that’s writhing on top of rumpled bed sheets.

“This is a good look for a desperate slut like you. Couldn’t cum without me? No one, not even your little toys could make you feel good? Maybe I should just leave, just like how you left me. Leave you high and dry. Well I guess maybe not that dry.”

You pant, wide blown out eyes watching as he slowly approaches you, face heating when he bends down to peer at your dripping cunt, mockingly whistling at how you pretty hole is no different than a leaking faucet, inner thighs drenched in your arousal.

“Koutarou, please-”

You scream as fingers harshly twist at your nipples, eyes rolling to the back of your head as just that brutal touch is enough to bring you over the edge you had been hovering around for so long, body convulsing, a dopey grin making its way onto your lips when you finally feel the pleasure you’d been craving for so long.

“Fuck, you came from just that? Who the fuck said you could cum? Who the fuck said you could use my name? Sluts like you don’t deserve to say my name. You know what to address me as.”

You wail, pain melding with the pleasure as he shoves your vibrator away, alternating between pinching and slapping your already overstimulated clit as he enunciates every word he snarls at you, a feral grin stretching across his face at your barely coherent babbles of “sir” and “sorry”.

The constriction in his own pants is painful and he’s quick to strip waist down, slowly palming his aching erection. It takes everything in him to hold back, to not just shove balls deep inside of you in one strong thrust, your absence affecting him just as badly. But that’s not what this is about. This is about making a point, reminding you just how wrong you were for leaving him without a single word, rebuilding what the two of you once had. And as ravenous as he is, he takes his time, willing himself to slow down and rediscover every inch of you, painstakingly exploring your body once again, re-memorizing every sensitive part of you that elicits a little gasp, a tiny mewl.

And he doesn’t stop, pulling the dildo inside of you completely out, using his teeth, tongue, and finger to bring you to the edge over and over again, always backing away just when you’re about to fall off that pleasurable cliff once more, diving back in like a man starved just when you think you have a shaky grasp on your senses. Only when you’re full out sobbing broken cries of his title, a litany of “please, please, please” escaping you does he move on and he groans at how perfectly your legs wrap around his back, urging him inside you as his cock finally makes contact with your gushing cunt, your hands weakly pawing at him in a silent plea for more.

But again he stops, bringing a thumb to wipe away your tears as you begin to wail anew, frustration and denial tearing you to shreds, instinctively leaning into his touch as he gently strokes your cheekbone.

“Tell me who’s the only one who can make you feel good. Who’s the only one who can pleasure you?”

And as you scream his name, he finally slams inside of you, relentlessly pounding in and out of you, gold eyes hungrily taking in how wrecked you look, how broken you look, all because of him, only for him.

It doesn’t take long for both of you to tumble together over that edge, not when both of you are beyond pent up, absence making your hearts grow fonder and your bodies desperate for each other. And you can’t help the content warm surge inside of you when you feel hot thick liquid fill your insides, your body lax and useless in post-coital bliss, heart and mind eager for Bokuto to collapse beside you and pull you into his toned chest like he always does.

Except there is no familiar weight beside you and your head shakes side to side, drool trickling down your face when Bokuto’s softening cock is suddenly replaced by four fingers brutally thrusting in and out of you, curling just right along your still quivering walls.

“We still have a long way to go, little mouse. We have a lot of catching up to do.”

You don’t know how many times you’re forced over the edge after that, consciousness fading in and out as he assaults your cunt with his fingers, his tongue, his cock. You even vaguely remember waking up once to a dildo in your ass, Bokuto pounding into your cum-filled pussy, your body more stretched than it’s been in a long time. They all blur together, only tied together by the delirious pleasure that numbs everything else until you’re succumbing to darkness one last time as yet another body shaking orgasm rips through you.

It’s the scent of fresh coffee and bacon that awakens you and you blearily open your eyes, only to immediately wince as soon as you try to move, your body feeling like it had been rammed into by a truck (although you suppose that imagery isn’t too far off from what actually transpired). Sinking back into the plush pillow and mattress, you close your eyes, wondering what’s your next move. Force your aching body out of bed and confront the inevitable, already somewhat dreading having to face Bokuto now that your mind isn’t clouded with lust? Go back to sleep and pray that he’s gone when you wake up again, like a coward?

But Bokuto doesn’t leave you a choice and you shyly cover yourself with the blanket when he comes bounding into the room, a heaping plate of food and a cup of the delicious caffeinated beverage in his hands, heart fluttering when you see the warm and affectionate grin on his face as he approaches you, carefully placing everything on the nightstand before tenderly pecking your forehead and murmuring good morning.

You try to say something, anything, words getting stuck in your throat, but you’re shushed as the coffee mug is carefully placed in your hands, Bokuto’s soothing voice urging you to eat and recover first. And you gladly take the excuse, hunger and thirst from last night’s endurance marathon finally making itself known as you devour everything. But there’s only so long you can avoid the inevitable and with belly full and feeling more yourself, you listen as he gently grabs your hand, letting him entwine his fingers with yours as he tells you everything.

Who he is. What he does. Exactly how he’s affiliated with the Fukurodani Syndicate.

None of it is surprising, a lot of it what you had surmised and guessed yourself. But it doesn’t make it any easier to swallow knowing just how much he had kept from you, how much he had been planning on keeping from you for who knows how long. At least it’s all out in the open now though, no secrets left between the two of you, and there’s a pause as he continues to rub his thumb on the back of your hand.

“I won’t sugar coat who I am and what my life is. I don’t expect you to come running back with open arms. But if you’re willing to give it a try, I swear that there’ll never be any more secrets, that I’ll protect you, that I’ll love you. I’ll be the damn best boyfriend there ever is.”

You almost giggle at how childish the last sentence is, hope churning in your stomach when you see how genuine and passionate he is, fondness flowing through you when you recognize the man you had fallen in love with beyond the dirt on his hands. And you know it’s arguably foolish, goes against every moral code you’ve grown up with, but love never does seem to follow set equations and rules and you bring that hand to your lips, affectionately kissing your clasped fingers as you meet gold eyes.

“Let’s give it a try.”

#haikyuu smut #bokuto smut #bokuto x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fic #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios

[mothandpidgeon]

REPUTATION - Chapter 1

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!reader

Words: 3615

Rating: T

Warnings: slowest of burns, gender swapped characters, TOUCHING HANDS, no us of y/n

Summary: After scandal damages your reputation, you are finished with society. But a mysterious bachelor by the name of Mr. Djarin has a reputation of his own. And you are determined to keep yourself from getting mixed up with him.

A/N: So after THAT LOOK I know we are all working on our Darcy fics. I feel very intimidated to give it a go when so many talented writers are going to be doing it better but I really haven’t been able to think about anything else.

Also please forgive any historical inaccuracies. I hate those even when they’re on purpose so let’s just agree to ignore them.

And thanks @pascalslittlebrat for taking a look at this and listening to all of my feelings.

MASTERLIST

You used to enjoy going to balls. You used to feel excitement when you got dressed in a fine white gown, your hair set elegantly with little silk flowers. Your heart would race when you would arrive and see all of the gentlemen in their finery. And dancing. There was a time when you could stay on your feet all night, drinking in the attention of all the eligible bachelors.

Those days were long gone. Now you felt a rock in the pit of your stomach the entire time. You counted the moments until you could leave. You couldn’t even bother to put on a pleasant expression, spending entire evenings sullen and taciturn. But at least this was the last ball you had to drag yourself to this season.

You had been forced to spend yet another season in town. This time you had the company of your younger cousin Julia, though her older sister Emma was a difficult chaperone. And tonight you were being hosted by Captain Charles Dune and his wife Lady Georgiana Karga. They threw wonderful parties– at least you had enjoyed them when you enjoyed those things. It was a masquerade ball which meant Julia had picked out a dainty little mask for you to wear. You couldn’t be bothered to choose one yourself but Julia had an eye for this sort of thing. And you liked the creamy white bow that she tied into your hair.

Julia was looking forward to tonight. She was very popular despite being related to you, containing all of the traits a man would want in a wife– good looks, excellent conversational skills, and a talent at the piano forte. She had a number of young men constantly calling on her and her dance card was practically full before she had even gotten into the carriage.

“You look so pretty!” she insisted, though she was probably admiring the work she had done to make you presentable.

Emma was looking forward to being finished with you. She had been married for three years and fancied herself an authority on the subject. She spent much of her time lecturing you on the proper way to comport yourself. Tonight she was just trying to get you to quit sulking.

“Would you at least try to be sociable?” Emma requested with a frown.

“I don’t much see the point,” you huffed. “Do you really believe I’ll get a proposal at the last ball of the season?”

“Lady Georgiana has invited an old friend of the captain’s,” Emma encouraged. “Mr. Djarin. She says he’s quite admirable.”

You rolled your eyes. You both knew you were headed for spinsterhood. Emma had lost her mind if she thought that she was going to pawn you off on some aged, paunchy bachelor.

The ball went exactly as you had expected. You watched Julia dance and laugh. You stood by as Emma talked animatedly when she wasn’t giving you sharp looks. Though there were gentlemen without partners, no one asked you to dance aside from Captain Dune and a few of the unlucky young men he could press into service.

Even now at the end of the season, where so many engagements had been made, you could still feel the eyes on you, the whispers behind hands. It was as if they thought the masks covered their looks of derision. You knew what they were saying, why they snickered and turned away.

It was all because of your broken engagement to Mr. Vanth. There was no returning from a situation like that. You had been cast aside and all of the ton could enjoy surmising the reasons. Your reputation was in shambles.

But it wasn’t the fact that he had gone and married some heiress not two months after he’d given you up that made it all so painful. What had really destroyed you was the fact that you’d let yourself love him. He wasn’t the best choice though he was handsome and had enough income to keep you comfortable. But you had given your heart to him and he had crushed it. And you looked like an utter fool for it.

For some reason, tonight it all stung. You’d learned to drown out the comments and ignore the sideways glances. But here you were, closing yet another season, as single as the day you’d come out. You’d begged your poor mother to let you stay at home in the country so that you wouldn’t have to suffer these indignities. It was pathetic that you had even shown up in London. But she had insisted, had assured you that you were still desirable, still attractive and spirited.

You certainly didn’t feel that way now. You snatched up a glass of wine from a nearby valet and drank it down in nearly a single gulp. It did little to soothe your nerves.

You needed air. You took another glass and sped towards the garden. The noise and music floated out here but the fresh air was cool and the garden looked quite empty, the vacant pathways lit by torches.

You’d once been so much fun. You’d laughed and smiled. You’d had no worries about your future. Now, not only were you a laughing stock but you would be lucky if you could rely on your cousin’s generosity for the rest of your days lest you end up in the poor house.

Tears were welling up in your eyes. You tore the mask off of your face to wipe them away. With your vision clouded and in the dim of the garden, you didn’t see the man that was standing in the shadows until you’d run right into his back.

You’d hit him with enough force to knock you back a few paces but he hardly flinched. He was tall and broad shouldered and he turned to look at you with curiosity. He was alone, thank heavens. He wore a black tailcoat and under that a waist coat that looked like silver and shined like silk. You didn’t recognize him but, of course, he was wearing a mask like all of the other guests. His was rendered in the same silver fabric with a slim slit for his eyes. A scalloped piece of fabric fell from the bottom of the mask down to his chin so you couldn’t see anything of his face other than his dark eyes.

Once you’d regained your balance you began to stutter an apology.

“Forgive me, sir,” you stammered. “I must mind my step.”

The stranger didn’t say anything, he just continued to look you up and down, the torch light reflected in his eyes. His hair was a mess of dark curls. His stature was imposing and incredibly still. You were so shaken that you suddenly realized how you looked, your face stained with tears and eyes glassy. You felt your cheeks burn with even more embarrassment.

Just as you opened your mouth to give some explanation, a voice came from behind you.

“Djarin! There you are!” Captain Dune called out, as jovial as ever.

You did your best to wipe the tears from your cheeks while the masked man turned his attention away.

Captain Dune sauntered down the path with his wife on his elbow. He was a dark haired, stocky man who still looked quite dashing in his dress uniform. He had been a hero of the Nile and served with your father before his ship had been lost. His round face was adorned with a black mask.

“Ah! I see you’ve met the young lady I told you about,” Dune said.

Lady Georgiana’s bright eyes looked between the two of you from under her leather mask. She was a beautiful woman with dark skin and a wide smile. She had always been kind to you even after the disastrous affair with Mr. Vanth.

“My dear, allow me to introduce Mr. Djarin,” Lady Georgiana said. “He is a very good friend.”

Mr. Djarin gave a tight bow when she introduced you but barely murmured a, “How do you do?”

“What are you doing hiding out here, Djarin? The dancing is inside!” Dune teased.

Mr. Djarin gave a chuckle but he didn’t sound amused.

“Why don’t you ask this young lady for a dance? I’m sure she would lower herself to stand up with you,” the captain continued with a wink.

“I’d better not. Please, you’ll have to excuse me. I should retire,” Mr. Djarin said, his voice deep and raspy.

Your eyes fell to the ground and you swallowed hard. You hoped in the darkness of the garden, Lady Georgiana didn’t catch your upset. Clearly Captain Dune had told him everything about you. Why else would this man be so impolite?

“Oh come now. It’s early, yet,” the captain protested.

“Forgive me. It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he bowed and took his leave.

“My dear,” Lady Georgiana tried, “you’ll have to forgive Mr. Djarin. He has lived alone for so long that he sometimes forgets his manners.”

You gave her a smile, clenching your jaw so that you would not cry.

“I just had a splendid idea!” Lady Georgiana exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “You should come stay with us at Nevarro Hall. We leave next week. It would be great fun. I do find that part of the country so diverting.”

“You are too kind but I couldn’t impose,” you said politely. You had a feeling this offer only came because Georgiana felt responsible for her friend’s slight.

“Nonsense! You’re quite right that is a grand idea!” the captain agreed.

It was agreed that Lady Georgiana would write to your mother to inform her of the invitation. You knew she wouldn’t disagree considering how kind the Dunes were and how generous an invitation it was. Once the matter was settled, Captain Dune insisted you return to the party and you reluctantly slunk back inside.

Julia was with a gaggle of some friends when you returned to the ballroom. There was some excitement going on between them.

“Did you see him, Lucy?” one of the girls asked.

“I was introduced,” Lucy squealed. “It is a shame he was not here earlier in the season.”

You realized they were talking about Mr. Djarin and you felt yourself frowning.

“You’re not happy with Mr. Calican?” Julia laughed. Lucy had accepted his proposal just yesterday.

“No, of course!” she scoffed.

“What was he like?” Julia asked.

“I’ve heard he has a fine estate,” Lucy said.

“Oh, he was terribly handsome,” the first girl craned her neck to try and spot Mr. Djarin.

You wanted to laugh. You had also been introduced to Mr. Djarin but there was no way of knowing how handsome he was beneath that mask. You might have even ventured to tell them that but Emma joined the group looking disgruntled.

“I have learned some most unsettling news about Mr. Djarin,” she said. “He is traveling with a child who is in his care.”

“What about that offends you so?” Julia rolled her eyes.

“That is just it, Julia. I am told that this young boy is not merely Mr. Djarin’s ward. He is, in fact, his natural child.” This last part she said in a scandalized whisper.

This raised quite a few eyebrows but you furrowed your own.

“You are told?” You responded. “By whom?”

You knew the rumors that had circulated about yourself and had grown to absolutely despise and distrust gossip.

“I have it on good authority,” Emma said, which meant that some busybody had told her.

You shook your head. You hated that you felt the need to defend Mr. Djarin after he’d been so rude to you. If he had a child out of wedlock, one that he paraded around shamelessly, then what right did he have to rebuff you? You reminded yourself that this was merely hearsay. And no one deserved to be slandered like that.

But when you saw the way the other girls eyed you, you remembered yourself. If you protested too much, it would only speak to your own reputation. So you let them prattle on and as soon as you could slip away, you did, and spent the rest of the evening counting the minutes until you could leave and fall into bed.

After such an excruciating time in town, you were happy to be going anywhere else and, selfishly, you were glad that you didn’t need to spend a long carriage ride hearing Julia go on and on about how much she would miss being in town.

Nevarro Hall was situated on a gorgeous estate in a quiet part of the countryside. Lady Georgiana had given you a well appointed room with a view of the grounds. There was a beautiful garden with a fountain in the middle and, beyond that, a manicured lawn. You could see down to the lake and, past that, the tall trees. You spent a week walking the grounds with Lady Georgiana.

You loved to draw and you could set yourself in some corner of the garden and sketch the flowers for hours on end. It was such a wonderful change from the constant noise and hustle of town– the endless parties and calls, Emma herding you around like a prized cow. When the weather was fair, Lady Georgiana would have tea set outside and she and the captain would ask for a tour through your sketchbook and kindly remark on your talents.

“Perhaps you will create a likeness of the captain, my dear,” Lady Georgiana suggested. “If he will sit still enough for you.”

The captain laughed at that remark as the valet presented him with a letter.

“Very good! It seems Djarin will be joining us tomorrow! His business in town is finished,” he said.

You tried to hide your displeasure. You had no interest in sitting through dinners and excruciating evenings with Mr. Djarin. But you had little choice in the matter. And the captain and Lady Karga had been such generous hosts, you wouldn’t insult them by cutting your visit short.

You decided that you would be as polite as necessary but keep away from him as much as possible. This was wise, you told yourself, because your reputation couldn’t suffer any more difficulties. There were plenty of people that would jump at the chance to make even a passing association with Mr. Djarin into a scandal. But, of course, there was still a part of you that smarted at the way he had dismissed you in your very first encounter. You couldn’t be prevailed upon to be pleasant to a man that was so insulting. And so you would not.

Luckily, the first two days, it was easy to avoid Mr. Djarin entirely. The captain had taken him out riding or shooting or some such activity men enjoyed and they had dined out. Lady Georgiana had become a dear companion to you but she had begun to spend far too much time hinting at how much she liked the new guest. You would merely nod and smile and let your mind wander when she started to tell you how agreeable Mr. Djarin was or how he had been such a kind friend to her father.

On the third day, you had complained of a headache so you could excuse yourself from breakfast. After you had the tea and toast that Lady Georgiana had sent up to your room, you insisted a walk would be good for you and you set out across the grounds with your sketchbook.

You decided the stables were a good place to be left alone. It wasn’t like anyone would be looking for you there and, save the horses, there was nobody there. You found a little wooden chair and sat down to draw the horses and tack.

There was a beautiful black mare with white whiskers around her snout that you were sketching when you heard a noise. It was a funny little squeal. You thought you had imagined it until you heard it again. It had come from the empty horse stall at the very end and when you set down your sketchbook to investigate, you found a little boy sitting in the hay.

“Hello,” you said to him.

He smiled up at you. He looked incredibly sweet with chubby little cheeks. His ears seemed too big for his head and his eyes, too, were big and round. He wore a little brown suit with a delicate ruffle around the neck that was now covered in mud and hay.

“What are you doing in here?” you asked him, though he seemed too small to answer.

He babbled at you and held out something in his hand.

“What’s that?”

The child leaned forward, stretching towards you, and dropped it into your hand. It was a little silver ball that jingled like it had a bell within.

“Thank you,” you chuckled.

You shook it and it made a tinkling sound. He clapped his pudgy hands together, then planted them on the ground, and carefully got to his feet. He continued to yammer on as he tottered towards you, falling on his behind once, but determined to reach you on his own.

“Grogu!” You heard a voice from the path outside that you recognized. “Grogu!”

The boy scampered out of the stable and right up to the boot of Mr. Djarin.

“Where have you been, lad? They’re turning the whole house over looking for you,” he said.

He scooped the little boy up, holding his whole body in the crook of his arm, a wide hand grasping the boy’s calf. Grogu put a dirty hand up to Mr. Djarin’s chin and he laughed softly.

Now that you had the benefit of seeing him without a mask, you realized Mr. Djarin was, indeed, quite handsome. He had full lips and a prominent nose. His skin was a shade of gold that complimented his dark eyes. His starched collar met a square jaw that was dotted with stubble. In the sunlight, you could see that his soft curls and thick sideburns were threaded with grey hairs. The smile that spread over his features was so warm, you wished you could capture it in your sketchbook.

This was the infamous child, then. You saw little resemblance between Mr. Djarin and the lad but he held him so tenderly, it made you wonder if the rumors hadn’t been true.

That’s what you were pondering when the boy turned his attention back to you, pointing with a plump little finger. Mr. Djarin’s whole body stiffened when he saw you, his eyes turning sharp.

“Good morning,” you said with a curtsy.

His jaw clenched and he nodded.

“He was playing,” you tried, tilting your head back towards the stable.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I was drawing the horses,” you explained.

His head tilted just slightly.

“Is that his name? Grogu?” You asked when Mr. Djarin failed to speak.

“Yes,” he said.

You smiled. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Grogu.”

You put out your hand and the lad wrapped his fingers around one of yours.

“Ebba!” he cried.

You laughed. When you glanced at Mr. Djarin he was looking at you with an expression you could only describe as fear. Your smile faltered.

“I take it your business was concluded. In a satisfactory manner, I hope?” you inquired politely.

His brow furrowed momentarily and he opened his mouth and then set Grogu down at his feet.

“Yes. I-” he cleared his throat. “Please, you must forgive me for my behavior at the masquerade. Lady Georgiana said that I offended you. That was not my intention.”

You felt heat in your cheeks once again, embarrassment mixed with anger. You couldn’t believe he had to be told that he had acted like an ass. “Not to worry, sir. My pride has already been damaged so thoroughly, what is but one more slight?”

The look that crossed his face was absolute horror. You would have apologized for speaking so plainly but you frankly didn’t care. What right did he have to judge you? To apologize like you were so pitiful when here he was with his love child. You knew what men like Mr. Djarin were like and you’d learned to keep a wide berth.

“I- I should tell them that I’ve found him,” Mr. Djarin said. “Good day.”

He turned to go back up the path.

“Wait!” you called.

You blushed when you realized how impolite it sounded. Mr. Djarin turned carefully but said nothing. You approached him, painfully aware of the way he stared at you. It was difficult to meet his eye. You swallowed and held out the child’s ball to him. Mr. Djarin put out his hand and you placed it in his palm. As you did, your fingertips brushed his hand and you shivered. His skin felt rough and his palm was so large compared to your own. Your breath caught and, for some reason, you wished he would close his fingers around yours. You quickly withdrew your hand.

The boy reached out for the ball with a coo.

“Much obliged,” Mr Djarin managed. He was still looking at you with intense concentration.

Your chest felt tight.

“I’ll let them know at the house,” you stuttered and after a quick curtsy you were rushing back up the path.

--- Chapter 2

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[harrysweasleys]

a day in the life // f.w

request: Hi Alexaaaa So someone brought up this idea on my blog and i wanna request it id thats alright with you. So like imagine Fred having an auror wife and stuff and him being v protective and not wanting her to go on this dangerous mission but she goes anyway but gets really badly injured and poor freddie is worried sick. I love comfort fics i cannot lie and i hope u like this request thank you

warnings: mentions of explosions, injury, blood, and food

word count: 2.4k

a/n: hey guys! i hope you all had a wonderful week and that everyone is safe! the new year is right around the corner, can you believe it? where did the time go?? anyways, this was such a fun request and i loved writing it so much, so i hope you all enjoy! xx

“For the last bloody time, Freddie, it’s going to be fine,” you groaned, your head tossing backwards as you repeated the words to your husband for what felt like the thousandth time.

He crossed his arms, “I know you can handle yourself, but please. Please, for me, be careful. Don’t let anyone get the jump on you.”

A small smile made its way onto your lips and you placed your hands on his shoulders, “I always return, don’t I?”

“Yes,” he grumbled. You knew he hated it when you went off on dangerous missions — how couldn’t he? You were his wife. It was practically an oath of his to protect you. A vow. There was no way he’d let you run into the jaws of death without giving you a rough time beforehand. He always had something to say about it.

And he often did just that. He’d go on and on about how you could get hurt, how something could go terribly wrong and he could be left by himself. How you needed to see things from his point of view. You’d then spend the morning comforting him and convincing him you’d be fine, but at the end of the day, he’d always give you a bone crushing hug, muttering “glad you’re home safe” as he did so.

“I’ll be home in time for dinner, yeah?” you asked, standing up on your tip toes and pressing a light kiss on his nose. He scrunched up his face as you did so. You could tell he was trying to act upset at your leaving, but he couldn’t stay mad at you. Especially when, in his thinking, it could be the last time he sees you.

“Fine,” his lips stuck out in a small pout, one of his hands reaching up to run through your hair, “Stay safe, love.”

You brought your hand to his, lifting it to your lips and pressing a kiss to your knuckles, “Love you. See you soon. I’ll be fine.”

He then tossed your hand to the side — gently, of course — and brought your lips to his. His hand was cupped under your chin, fingers causing a slight ticklish feeling as they delicately moved against your skin. But the feeling went practically unnoticed as you lost yourself in his kiss. His kiss that often rendered you breathless and weak in the knees.

You could feel his love and protectiveness in the gesture and it almost made you want to call in sick so you could stay curled up in bed with him, ignoring the world’s problems and acting as you two were the only people on the planet.

But, sadly, that couldn’t happen.

So you gingerly pulled away, already missing his warm lips against yours, and muttered a quiet “I’ll be fine,” once again before beginning to button your jacket.

It was going to be a long day.

Hours later and you were, in fact, not fine.

The mission had gone horribly wrong, leaving you with a heavily bandaged left arm, a throbbing head, and a group of St Mungo’s best Healers giving you countless antidotes and potions to prevent bleeding and further damage. You had only really been in for about an hour, but the swelling in the left side of your body had gone down heavily.

The pain was still rather horrendous, but you didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. Especially not with the current levels of exhaustion floating through your body. You felt as if any second now, you could completely pass out and stay asleep for the next seven years. And you wouldn’t even complain.

Pain really did take a toll on one’s body.

What was even more draining, though, was the fact that your Healer told you you’d have to stay the night. You trusted the staff at St Mungo’s with your life — it wasn’t exactly the first time you’ve been treated here, to be honest — but the room you were staying in was incredibly chilly and the food here was never as good as at home.

Plus, here, you didn’t have Fred’s body curled up next to you.

Fred.

He had gotten the message an hour ago that you were here and he said he’d close up shop early to come see you. They said he sounded rather when they sent someone to deliver the message, but you knew he’d barge in through those doors with wide eyes and panic written across every inch of his face. He was never one to really hide away from his worry, but you had seen him silent on a few occasions. Usually when he was in shock.

You felt awful. Both physically and emotionally. Fred had every right to be paranoid about you leaving the house; this wasn’t your first injury. And yet, you spent every morning persuading him to let you go. Fast forward to today, where you were currently bandaged in an uncomfortable bed at St Mungo’s. Not an ideal ending to your day, to be honest. And not an ideal piece of news for Fred to receive.

“Your husband is here, should we let him in?” one of the healers came to your side, checking under the bandage on your hand before nudging her head in the direction of the hallway.

A small groan left your throat, “Of course.”

She walked towards the door to the room and opened it, Fred’s frantic face finding its way to your bedside as quickly as possible. You could see the paleness of his skin, making his usually fiery hair stand out even more. His sweater was badly buttoned, and you were pretty sure the scarf he was wearing was on backwards.

If the situation was any different to the way it was right now, you’d probably have a good chuckle.

His hands immediately found yours, giving small, gentle squeezes as if he would break you if he put any more pressure, “Love, are you okay? What happened? Are you badly hurt?”

You let out a sigh with a small smile, “Freddie, I’m fine. It’s just some minor bumps and bruises. I got caught in the middle of an explosive curse, it’s fine.”

He pulled his hands away from yours and sat on the small metal chair next to the bed, pulling it as close to you as he could, his eyes scanning every inch of you as if he were doing his own evaluation, “It’s fine?! I was worried out of my bloody mind, woman. Can you imagine the panic when some bloke comes to tell me my wife’s at Mungo’s? Bloody thought you were dying.”

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” you joked, rolling your eyes playfully before reaching your hand out to grab his, toying with the wedding band on his left hand, “I just have to stay here for the night. I’ll be home first thing tomorrow.”

“You have to stay?” his bottom lip stuck out, the childish pout on his face adding to the guilt fluttering in your chest.

You sat up slightly, trying to limit the weight on your bad arm, “I’m sorry, love. It’s for precaution. I don’t want to leave and make things worse. But, I promise, as soon as I’m discharged, we are heading home and doing nothing all day, yeah?”

“Well, I’ll stay here with you tonight ,” he puffed out his chest slightly as if he was a superhero, causing a bubble of laughter to erupt from your chest. Maybe it was just the exhaustion from your day, bud Fred’s sense of humour really never failed to get to you. Even at the worst of times.

Your eyes began to droop, but you gave his hand a squeeze, letting him know that even though you were fading, you were still listening and conscious. The last thing you wanted, now that he was here, was to leave him alone in the cold room. Cold, both in temperature and in atmosphere.

“You look tired, love,” his voice was soft, gentle. Loving. All the things you wanted to hear right now. If you were honest, you were worried he was going to be furious. Not at you, per say, but at what happened. So the fact that he was being caring and sweet meant more to you than you could begin to express.

Your eyes fluttered shut as he rubbed soothing circles on the back of your hand, “Tired? Me? Never.”

His laugh was quiet but you could hear it loud and clear, “Go to sleep. I’ll be here when you get up.”

You didn’t want to sleep, to be honest. You wanted to sit up and talk to him. To let him know you were sorry and just what went wrong today. You knew he’d listen, and would most likely panic a bit more when you told him the details — but he’d be comforting. And that was kind of what you needed right now.

But, alas, your body had other ideas, and before you knew it, you were sound asleep.

“I can handle it myself,” you groaned, both hands gripped tightly on the jar of jelly, twisting with all of your might and still, somehow, not getting the lid to pop off.

Fred stood in the doorway to the kitchen, his arms crossed and a small smirk on his lips, “Alright, I’ll just watch from here.”

You stuck your tongue out at him, turning back to the jar and focusing all of your strength into opening it. Which wasn’t saying much, to be fair. You hardly had your strength back, and your body was still as sore as ever. You should probably give the jar to Fred, but your inner stubbornness told you to do it yourself. You couldn’t improve if everyone did everything for you.

“You’re sure?” his voice was laced with amusement as he held back a laugh, watching as your cheeks turned red from the amount of force you put into opening this jelly jar. You were surprised it hadn’t broken, but then again, were you even applying that much force?

“I’m fine!” you grumbled, using your sleeve to prevent the skin on your hand from getting irritated, your palm already bright pink from excessive use.

But it seemed to be no use. Your toast will have gone cold by now, and your breakfast just wouldn’t taste the same.

“Fine, here,” you mumbled, sticking your arm out and pushing the small jar into Fred’s chest, your bottom lick stuck out in a pout that could rival your husbands, “I hate feeling useless.”

He popped the lid of the jar as if it were nothing before handing it back to you, “I know, love. But you’re not useless. Your body just needs time to recuperate, yeah? Can’t go pushing your limits or you’ll just end up back in St Mungo’s, and I reckon you don’t want that.”

“I don’t want that,” you replied, beginning to spread the contents of the jar onto your now-cold toast, “I’m just bored. I miss work. I stay home alone all the time.”

His arms slithered around your waist, giving you a light squeeze as he rested his head atop yours, “Georgie’s taking over the shop today so I can stay here with you. We can do whatever you want.” His warmth spread through your body.

You had to admit, that did lift your spirits a little bit. The whole day at home with your husband? That sounded like quite the treat.

“Really?” you turned to face him, his arms still wrapped around your waist, but he took a step back so you could actually look up at him, “The whole day?”

“Course,” he grinned, pressing his lips to your forehead, “Gotta take care of my girl.”

The day hadn’t been overly eventful; a few cuddles on the couch, a few cuddles in the bed, listening to music, sitting next to Fred and watching telly as he organized paperwork for the shop. Just a few small things. But being with him for the whole day, it really did make you feel a million times better than you had all week.

Maybe that was his plan. To use his very presence as a way to cheer you up. Whether he did it knowingly or not, it did the trick. And now, the aches and pains in your body seemed to dissolve as he ran his hands up and down your arms, the two of you curled up in bed and ready for another night’s sleep.

“Thanks for spending the day with me,” your shot him a smile, but highly doubted that he’d see it in the dark, “I already feel loads better.”

“Of course you do,” his voice sounded cocky even though you couldn’t quite make out his face, “I make anyone feel better. I’m a real treat.”

You scoffed, “Yeah, I adore your humbleness. That’s why I married you.”

One of his hands slid around your waist and pulled you closer to him, body flushed against his. He was still gentle as if not to hurt you, “Not the only reason you married me, love.”

“Right, I also married you for George. I don’t know what I’d do without that chap in my life,” you teased, one of your hands finding it’s way into Fred’s hair, twirling at the strands that were starting to get long. Not as long as when you were in school together, but long enough that it covered his ears and often made you tuck a few strands behind his ear.

“You wound me,” he tried to pull away, but you held onto him enough that he couldn’t. Your strength was starting to come back, which was a massive improvement.

“I’m actually the wounded one,” you rebutted, your face finding it’s usual spot in the crook of his neck, his warmth encasing you like one of his hugs.

His arms wrapped around you, “You can’t be wounded anymore! I gave you so much love. That should have healed you.”

You giggled, placing a light kiss as the nape between his neck and shoulder, “Silly me. Your love has healed me, that’s very true.”

Fred might have had a certain reputation while the two of you were in school. But now, with your marriage only getting better by the day, you couldn’t help but see him as just one thing. As Fred. Your husband, your lover, and the man who would throw himself into a fire if it meant saving your life.

You lucked out more than you can even begin to express, and you would continue to be so for the remainder of your days.

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[whump-a-la-mode]

Signal - Pincushion

Hey uhh this is a bit of a weird one! Thanks to @suspicious-whumping-egg (aka blue fren) for helping me come up with a fun way to torture my poor lab whumpee. Also, tagging @shiningstarofwinter !

Previous entries to this story can be found in my pinned infopost (no pun intended.)

CW//Injury, mentioned amputation, blood, pins, needles, torture, dehumanization

Upon the table, Signal shook like a pinned butterfly. And, in a way, that was exactly what they were.

After all, how else could they be described, in that moment?

“Stop-” They were begging. When the experiment had started, they had tried to stop themself from doing so. Tried to keep their dignity about themself. But how could they really have something even resembling dignity when they spent their life eating out of a dog bowl in a cage? “Stop- Please please please- No, no, no!”

Their last ‘no’ resembled an anguished howl more than anything that could be described as human language. But, it didn’t stop the next pin from going in.

“Stop squirming.” The sharp voice of the one and only Dr. Crane barked, piercing Signal’s ears as though it were an airhorn. They flinched in the same manner. “I said, stop squirming!”

How could they stop squirming when their wings, no, their whole body may as well have been on fire?

“You’re okay, Signal.” Dr. Sampson’s far softer tone coaxed. “We’re almost done.”

“We’ve barely started.” The other researcher commented sharply.

They’d only just started?! If anything, that reignited Signal’s writhing. When the next pin went in, they couldn’t help but feel that Dr. Crane had placed it as harshly as she could manage, simply to make a point.

Every piece of them was in agony. Their wings were so burdened by pain that the weight was disturbed, too, to their other limbs, their chest, their skull.

But they could not move, and there was quite a paramount reason for that.

Signal should have known, as soon as they were laid out, upon the table. They knew that table. Sure, in its default state, it held no different intentions than the metal exam tables they were so often forced upon.

But, this table in particular had something very unique about it. A pair of metal flaps, able to extend from either side of its surface. The perfect size for fixing in place a pair of wings.

Most of the doctors’ tortures, they’d learned to handle. That did not mean that they cared for them in any way, shape, or form, of course. But, they knew what to expect. They understood the pain that awaited for them.

Procedures upon the wings, however? They could never get used to those. They’d always found it stupid, found it unfair, the fact that their oversized, unwieldy, feathered appendages contained the most easily-ignited nerve endings on their whole body. A single brush upon a single feather was enough to set the hairs on the back of their neck on end.

Their wings had been tortured plenty of times, of course. But this?

This was horrid. More than that, this was new.

‘We’re only measuring muscle activity in your wings.’ Sampson had spoken, oh so terribly innocently. ‘It’s only sensors. You know sensors.’

She had, of course, forgotten to mention the fact that the sensors were located upon the ends of pins, nearly three inches in length. No, Signal hadn’t found that out until they had been stretched out upon the restraint table, and the first pin had forced its way into their flesh.

How many had gone in, now? A dozen? Two dozen? They couldn’t tell, but they couldn’t stop their wings from shivering. The only thing stopping them from sobbing was the fact that they had run out of tears to cry half an hour ago.

“There. All done.” Dr. Sampson sighed, at long last.

“A-All done?” Agony alone rendered Signal nigh-speechless.

“Putting the sensors in.” Dr. Crane spoke with a laugh. “Though, maybe it would go a little faster if you would stop flopping like a fish.”

“You’re doing fine, Signal.” The lab rat could do nothing to resist as the kinder of their two torturers gave them a horribly degrading pat upon the head. “But it’ll go a lot easier if you would just relax.”

Relax? When they were being treated like a pincushion?!

“The machine’s ready, as soon as you’re done talking to the rat.” Dr. Crane interrupted.

“Yes, yes. I apologize.” Her colleague hummed. “Go ahead.”

Somewhere, a switch was flipped.

Somewhere, Dr. Crane sentenced Signal to the worst agony of their life.

Upon the table, the winged person howled. So it felt, a million and a half lightning bolts lurched through their feathered appendages and back again. A ceaseless feedback loop of agony.

They had been staying still, before. Their wings hadn’t been restrained-- there was no need, after all. The pins had caused enough discomfort to still them.

Now, however? Signal wasn’t thinking. If anything, they did not so much as have control over their movements.

They flapped their wings.

It’s hard to tell what was worse-- the pain Signal experienced in that moment, or the view that the pair of doctors had as they did so. The prior was agonizing, certainly. But the latter? The sheer amount of blood? The way that pins pierced feathered flesh, twisting and stabbing at any and all angles?

Perhaps that was even worse.

The only mercy that Signal received was that of unconsciousness. It was shock that sent them, after only a few moments, leaving their doctors to clean up their mess.

“Oh, god...”

“Are they ever going to fly again?”

“Fly? Are they going to live?!”

“That is a lot of blood.”

“The Facility. Now. It’s their only chance of keeping the wings.”

#whump #whumpblr #lab whumpee #whumpee #whumper #doctor whumper #signal #dr crane #dr sampson #i need a tag for this series huh #wing whump #winged whumpee #medical whump

[nicknellie]

Anonymous requested: willex and one of them confesses their feelings to the other while sleeping

So I wasn’t 100% sure if I’d understood this right and I had two directions I could go, either of which would have been good, so I did the Right Thing and included both versions of how I interpreted this. It’s a little short, but I love it. I got a random burst of inspiration for it in the middle of a maths exam yesterday so that was fun, and this is what came out of it. Thank you for the prompt!

No Going Back

If there was one thing Alex had become certain of in all the time he’d known Willie, it was that the guy didn’t get nearly enough sleep.

At first Willie’s constant state of being so exhausted that he was hyper had been endearing. Alex had looked forward to receiving that inevitable ‘are you awake?’ text in the darkest hours of every night, thrilled that he was on Willie’s mind, anxious to have a late-night deep conversation or for Willie to show up at his house and whisk him away on a midnight adventure. He had loved the spontaneity that Willie displayed, a by-product of his insomnia that rendered him incapable of figuring out when something was a bad idea – though Alex was still bitter about that time they’d nearly been arrested for breaking into a skatepark after dark, something Willie had sworn was perfectly legal.

He still loved all that about Willie, it wasn’t something he could ever stop loving. Willie was like that – once you loved him there was no going back. But over time Alex had started to worry, as he was wont to do, about how little sleep Willie was getting.

“Did you sleep at all last night?” Alex asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes,” Willie said, not looking up from what he was doing. “What makes you think I didn’t?”

“Nothing,” Alex replied, “just the fact that you’re still wearing the same clothes as last night and there’s a marble run spanning the length of your apartment that definitely wasn’t there yesterday.”

It was mid-morning and Alex was stood in the doorway of Willie’s apartment, peering in through the door at what could only be described as chaos. Willie was stood in the centre of the living room, fiddling with a section of the marble run, his tongue poking out in concentration. All around him, the marble run twisted through the apartment, an explosion of plastic in colours that clashed painfully alongside each other. By the looks of it, the run started atop a light fixture, wound its way through the kitchen (including going inside the fridge and back out again), tracked into Willie’s bedroom, linked back around into the living room, and ended in the perfect position to hit the TV remote’s power button.

It was very obvious to Alex that Willie had spent the whole night trying to find the most complicated way of turning his TV on – getting him to admit it would be the difficult thing.

Willie looked around the apartment, eyes wide as if he was only seeing the marble run for the first time now. He looked utterly bewildered, stumped by his own creative genius.

“Oh,” he said simply. “Yeah, well, I did sleep for a bit. And I also made this. A guy can do two things.”

Alex stepped cautiously into the apartment, shutting the door behind him, being careful not to tread on the marbles that littered the floor. Willie quickly got back to tinkering with his marble run, trying to secure two bits of track together. He was stood on a coffee table up on his tip-toes – Alex moved instinctively behind him to catch him in case he fell.

“Did you really sleep?” he pressed.

“Yes,” Willie insisted. “For, like, an hour maybe. I woke up at about half one.”

Alex checked his watch and felt his jaw go slack in shock. “You’ve been building a marble run for eight hours?”

Although he probably didn’t need to, Willie held onto Alex’s outstretched hands as he lowered himself slowly down from the coffee table. He didn’t let go once he was down, leaving one hand gently slipped into Alex’s. Alex felt his heart beat that little bit faster but ignored the feeling in favour of continuing to worry about Willie’s godawful sleeping habits.

“Not the full eight hours,” Willie told him dismissively. “Probably more like five? I built a domino chain first, and then I had to clear it all up.”

He pointed to a box in the corner of the room that was being used to prop up a good chunk of the marble run and appeared to be filled with an ungodly amount of dominoes. He was smiling triumphantly as if setting up dominoes all night was any different to setting up a marble run.

“You say that like it makes this better, but you’ve still only had one hour’s sleep,” Alex reminded him as Willie tried and failed to stifle a yawn. “I think it’d be a good idea if you got some rest now.”

Willie shook his head. “I’ll be fine, hotdog. One hour is more than enough sleep, I usually get less.”

“That’s not something to be proud of.”

Willie just shrugged, but he wasn’t fooling Alex. In recent weeks, Alex had noticed that Willie’s lack of sleep really seemed to be getting to him. He was sleeping less and less, running on energy drinks and sugar highs, spending his time doing nonsensical things like building colossal marble runs all night instead of at least lying in bed. And Willie was pretending that he was fine, carrying on like it was nothing, but there was something in his eyes that told Alex he was struggling with it more than he would let on.

But now, Willie’s face broke into an excited grin and he squeezed Alex’s hand. “Do you want to test it out?”

In his head, Alex knew he should have insisted that Willie just try and take a nap instead, but he would have been lying if he said he didn’t want to see the end result (after all, there were some loop-the-loops in there and he was quietly curious to see if they’d actually work). So he nodded reluctantly and let Willie pull him to the kitchen where he hoisted himself onto the counter and plonked a marble in the start of the tube.

They watched in awe as the little blue marble rolled its way through all the tubes, flipping around the loops, gathering speed in tight spirals. It was oddly mesmerising and Alex was so caught up in watching it that he forgot he was supposed to be a little annoyed that Willie had made it instead of getting some well-deserved rest.

It was going well, the marble run holding out sturdily, but Alex noticed Willie tense as the marble neared the section he’d been fiddling with when Alex walked in. As the marble ran over that bit of track, there was a catastrophic crash and the entire marble run collapsed around them, raining bits of rainbow-coloured plastic down around the apartment like an avalanche. Alex had covered his head and closed his eyes instinctively, but when he opened them he saw that every inch of the floor was carpeted in bits of marble run and crushed dreams.

The marble dropped to the floor with a pathetic clack, the icing on the cake.

Alex turned to Willie, who was still stood atop the kitchen counter, staring at the wreckage with a completely blank expression. He reached his hand up to hold Willie’s and got nothing in response.

“Willie?” he prompted softly.

“I hate everything,” Willie sighed.

He hopped down from the counter and began trying to pick up bits of the marble run to clear it away. Alex could hardly believe how much of it there was when it wasn’t all stacked together – he couldn’t help but admire Willie for putting it all together, but it was overshadowed by the pity he felt now that it had failed.

Gently, he placed a hand on Willie’s shoulder. Willie instantly broke, his shoulders sagging and his head hanging defeatedly. The bit of track he was holding clattered to the floor.

“You take a nap,” Alex said. He wasn’t asking anymore, he was telling, and truth be told Willie looked like he was ready to fall asleep on his feet. “I’ll pack this away.”

“I can’t ask you to do that,” Willie said, rubbing at his eyes exhaustedly.

“You’re not asking me, I’m offering. Go on, you need to rest.”

There was a short pause while Willie looked at Alex, something indescribable in his teary eyes. He broke it to say, in a tired voice not quite like his own, “Will you come and stay with me when you’re done?”

Alex smiled softly. “If you want me to then of course I will.”

Willie nodded, eyes already drooping closed, and made his way to his bedroom incredibly slowly as he tried to avoid stepping on any bits of the marble run. Alex began packing it away, and he could hear Willie’s soft snores within minutes.

He spent at least two hours tidying away all the pieces, mainly because for most of that time he was arranging them by size and colour and trying to get them all to fit perfectly in the large container Willie had labelled ‘MARBLES :)’. Eventually though, when the apartment was clear, the final marble plonked into the box, Alex carefully pushed open the door to Willie’s bedroom.

Willie was tucked in underneath the covers, warm and snug, snoring soundly. It appeared he still hadn’t got changed out of yesterday’s clothes, but at least he was finally getting some rest. Alex crouched down by the side of his bed and placed his hand next to Willie’s where it was thrown out exhaustedly across the mattress.

People often thought Alex and Willie were dating, told them they were such a lovely couple, asked about how long they had been together. And every time they would laugh it off, correct whoever had said it, no harm done. But Alex wished that just once he could reply in a very different way, thank them for the compliment, tell them he and Willie had been together for six months or a year or five. Sometimes he suspected that Willie wanted it too – like when he held his hand, or giggled at Alex’s dumb jokes, or smiled in a way that seemed like it was just for him.

But he couldn’t bring himself to ask.

He thought about it now, how if he had been Willie’s boyfriend he could have held him as he slept, run his fingers through his hair, pressed kisses to his forehead until he dozed off. It was probably wishful thinking, but he wondered if he could have helped simply by being Willie’s boyfriend. (He knew the problem ran deeper than that, but he could hope.)

Willie shuffled a bit in his sleep and his hand came to rest atop Alex’s. He felt his breath stutter and hitch in his throat.

“I hope you can’t hear me,” Alex said quietly before he even knew he was going to say anything, “because all I want to tell you right now is that I love you. And I don’t know if that’s what you want to hear. But it’s true – I love you, Willie, and I’m always going to be right here when you need me.”

There was the briefest moment of silence in which neither of them moved and all Alex could hear was the thumping of his own heart. He couldn’t tell if Willie was fully asleep, and he wasn’t certain if he wanted that or not. He wanted Willie to know how he felt, he just didn’t want to tell him.

But after that moment, Willie’s hand clutched weakly at Alex’s, and he breathed, “I love you too.”

It was so quiet Alex thought he might have imagined it. He blinked, leaned a little closer as if Willie might say it again, but he was already back to sleep. Alex wanted to shake him awake, tell him again, make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

He didn’t though. That conversation could wait until Willie was awake. Instead, Alex sat himself down on the floor next to the bed, hand still in Willie’s, head resting against the mattress, and let Willie finally get the sleep he so deserved.

*

Taglist (if you want to be added or removed just let me know): @ace-bookworm @williexmercer @willex-owns-my-heart @itstiger720 @the-reckless-and-the-brave @that-one-newsie @bluedarkness @lookingthroughmirrors @teammightypen @salty-star @julieandthequeers @lmaohuh 

#jatp #willex #alex mercer #julie and the phantoms #willie jatp #willie x alex #alex x willie #willex fic #jatp fic #fanfiction #julie and the himbos #sleep #fluff and angst #<<< kinda? i guess? #friends to lovers #<<< again. kinda? #love confessions #willie would make marble runs instead of sleeping fight me #marble runs are a perfect metaphor for insomnia and mental health :D #fanfic #writing #my writing #fic #emotional hurt/comfort #<<< once again. kinda. #request #fic request

[spvce-cowboy]

hi!! i love all of your writing and was wondering if you’d do this prompt w din: 💕

being jealous! not to the point of it being unhealthy, just a moderate amount of cute jealously, in which their partner just laughs it off and gives them a kiss

THANK YOU ! <3 you must understand that cute protectiveness is my fav fav fav thing in the world, thank you for sending this in hehe

warnings: implied smut, overly indulgent on all fronts i just have a thing for pretty dresses okay

--

you think he buys you the dress because he notices the way it catches your eye in the store window. he doesn’t mention it to you after the fact, but he clearly notes the little sigh that leaves your parted lips in passing, or the way your gaze clings to it while the two of you pass by the shop’s window.

the village is nearly bursting at the seams with energy, the spring festival that would start that night is enough to have nearly everyone on the streets in preparation. at first Din was insulted to be hired on a security detail, but some lordling had slipped Karga enough cash to make it worthwhile for the guild, so here the two of you were. 

it’s been a while since the worst of your worries were the Sullustan rabbit pups that wriggled free of their pen that morning. you can’t say you don’t appreciate the reprieve.

the spring festival was set to begin that night, and the villagers seem more than ready to begin the celebrations. the town is the spitting image of a pastoral landscape, warm and illuminated with the colorful ribbons curving in sweeping arcs of color high above you. the blossoms are beginning to open, the fields already thick with tall green grasses. the livestock were fattening and the beginnings of the harvest were coming in--which meant that the market that you and Din had to weave through on your way back from the Town Marshall’s offices is a maze of bodies and stands.

the Town Marshall had finally told you and Din that it had been a long cold season. raiders had been coordinating attacks on their homes, killing those who resisted. the lordling only just got it under control in time for the festival to be hosted safely.

once the two of you are a safe distance away from the heavy-set Marshall, Din mutters something about the lord’s incompetency in not hiring him sooner. you roll your eyes, prodding his side with your elbow.

“he wants to be extra safe,” you mutter in return, shooting him a raised brow. “play nice.”

you think you hear him give a huff from underneath that layer of beskar and glass. he walks closer to you in that way he does when you know he wants to reach for your hand--or the small of your back, or your opposite hip--but can’t given the circumstances. you keep pace with him as the two of your weave your way back to the main pasture, and it’s then that you pass the window of the dress shop that catches your eye.

it’s a dull peach color, made of sheaths of long, fine fabric decorated with the smallest of embroidered flowers. two wide stripes of the material are fastened to the bodice and tied into flowing bows at the peaks of the mannequin’s shoulders, perfectly framing the tight, curved neckline of the dress.

least to say, you can’t really help the way you melt a little while looking at it. it’s absolutely beautiful and, more importantly, utterly impractical. it’s a shame, but that’s the life you signed up for. you don’t really think that much of it as the two of your part ways and go about your days.

so when you return back to the Crest and there’s a neatly bowed box on the bed, you can’t suppress the happy grin that overtakes your face as you lift the top of the box and reveal the neatly folded fabric of the dress from the window. in a moment of pure awe, you run the tips of your fingers over the thin material, delicately tracing the small flowers.

you are pretty sure Din is still out on patrol, doing his rounds in making sure security was up to par for the events tonight. you wish you could have thanked him before getting ready, but you hope the two of you could at least catch a glance of each other once the festivities began. you know he’d more than make up for the day’s necessary distance between the two of you once you returned home for the night, but it would have been nice to see him while you were fresh.

you get ready quickly, showering then stepping into the dress. you’re in the middle of trying to figure out the back’s fastenings when a gruff voice comes from the threshold of your shared cabin.

“need help with that?”

you look over your shoulder at your partner with a bright smile. he’s leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed, the heat of his gaze readily apparent despite being hidden beneath that T-visor. 

“yes, please,” you face forward again so he can easily reach the fastens. wordlessly, he crosses the room to stand behind you. you ease into his touch as he pulls the strings closed with deft fingers. you think for a second before speaking up again. “thank you, for this. it’s beautiful.”

din hesitates after tying the last bow, you feel him graze his knuckles over the curve of your shoulder in a gentle caress.

“we’ll be late,” his voice is thick with something that makes it sound like he’s the one who doesn’t want to go.

turning to face him, you look up at your partner through your lashes with a smile. you think it’s in the way his hands linger as they drag over your sides that makes you want to play the tease for the rest of the night.

it’s a role you’re far too good at, anyway.

“sounds good,” you stand on your tip-toes to bump your forehead against his in your usual parting gesture. 

the festival is a whirl of bright colors and music and dancing. by the time the band starts playing the slow songs, you’re barefoot with the rest of the young women and twirling around the maypole fixed to the center of the pasture. there was a lot of cooing over your dress when you first arrived, and more than a few of your partners got a little handsy, especially once the drinks started flowing. nothing you couldn’t laugh off with a small roll of your eyes and a push.

you knew your were one of the safest people in the galaxy as long as that familiar glimmer of beskar is at the corner of your gaze. you were really only interested in his hands, anyway.

it’s more than a little annoying when one of the lordling’s guards keeps approaching you for a dance. you oblige him the first time out of courtesy--he’s only a year or two older than you, and decent to look at, but you are much more interested in the group dances with the other women than the ones with the men that kept stealing your newfound friends away.

the crowd has been reduced to just adults, the children long since tucked into their beds, and the tone has changed accordingly. the guard approaches you for the third time that night, interrupting you and the girl trying to teach you the footwork of the slow song being hummed by the band.

the guard isn’t even able to open his mouth before Din materializes by your side.

“you should listen when she rejected you the second time,” his voice isn’t necessarily sharp, but it certainly isn’t friendly. “leave her be.”

“it’s the spring festival,” the guard snorts with a sneer, his eyes still raking up and down your body. you feel the heat rise to your cheeks as his gaze catches on the dress’s daring neckline. the guard’s tone goes sharp with the way men can get when they think they’re in the presence of a similarly belligerent companion. “if she’s gonna be a prude then she shouldn’t’ve--” 

Din takes one step forward.

it’s a small movement, almost unassuming--certainly unrecognizable to anyone still dancing--but he somehow manages to make it drip with promised violence.

the guard balks almost immediately, stuttering an apology before retreating. Din takes another step forward, as if to follow him, but you reach out your hand to stop him. he does so immediately, turning back to you.

“are you okay?” he lowers his head to speak to you quietly. he doesn’t let go of your hand, just rubs his thumb along the length of your palm. no matter how long the two of your have spent--traveling the galaxy, tangled in sweaty sheets, sharing meals, falling asleep against the other’s chest nearly every night--he still manages to render you breathless. 

“yeah,” you murmur, longingly looking up at him, still unsure what level of public affection he’d be willing to display while on the job.

as if in answer to your unspoken question, Din wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you against his body as he lovingly nuzzles the brow of his helm against your forehead. it’s somehow infinitely more intimate than any kiss could have been. 

“have fun,” he tells you as he pulls away, retreating with no more than a brush of his curved knuckles against your cheek. you lick you lips, wanting nothing more than to take his hand and march him straight back to the Crest--or, well, straight back to your bed, that is. or any bed. even one of the pallets of hay tucked in the alleyway would’ve been fine.

instead, you turn back to your cohort, dance with the tittering girls until your feet hurt and a sheen of sweat glazes your skin.

the night is one of laughter and flowers and bright bursts of light. and when the band stops playing, Din is there to lead you home. he’s there to sweep you off your feet in a bridal carry once the two of you enter the empty stretches of the street. he’s there as you giggle and peck the side of his helm in appreciation, leaning your cheek against his shoulder. 

you’ve never been luckier. you know that for sure.

#din djarin x reader #din djarin #thots (tm) #din thots

[evertriedsoywithyourpopcorn]

5 Reasons Roman Is Infuriating (And Why I DO NOT have a crush on him)

(Logince with a bit of denying and pining) Read on AO3

My first fic, based on my Logince drawing (If someone ever wants to make anything based on my art, feel free to ask. Making content is hard and people fleshing out concepts is always fun.) Word count: 3641

Tw: Cursing, Food mention, Balloon popping, Remus being his authentic self

Character’s: Remus, Virgil, Janus, Logan, Roman (At the end), Patton (Mainly implied)

~~~

He had everything ready.

"Ahem."

Three heads turn to look at him.

"Logan, I really don't understand why you're doing this. You know I'm literally the Lord of the Lies, right? I can tell when you're lying."

"Falsehood. I am here specifically to prove to you three, the ones that have doubted me the most, what I think of Roman, so that you'll stop teasing me about emotions that aren't even there." Logan says, standing in front of a long classroom table. Virgil, Janus and Remus sit there, each maintaining their own postures and looking at him with disbelieving expressions.

"Logan, we can see your heart boner from here. You really think you can convince us with a slideshow presentation?" Remus picks his teeth, seemingly bored of the idea.

"That's exactly what I'm doing- What? Why would my heart have a boner? It doesn't have the proper parts to do that-" Logan looks lost, clutching the presentation button in his hand.

"It's an expression, Pocket Protector. It means you've got feelings for him." Virgil sighs.

Logan squints at him. "Of course I have feelings for him." Logan looks behind him, to the SmartBoard behind him. The board turns on, displaying the presentation title. "And those feelings are feelings of irritation. My name is Logan Sanders, and welcome to my Ted Talk."

There is a collective sigh from the others.

Logan takes a pointer stick (the one with the little hand on one side) from a holder on the wall, and points at the words on the screen. "This is 5 reasons why Roman is infuriating. And unlike your cognitive distortions may suggest, I DO NOT have a crush on him." He gestures with the stick where the same thing is written. "So, let's begin."

~~~

1. He likes to insist that he's the most handsome side, despite us all looking like Thomas.

It's ridiculous. All of their traits are reminiscent of Thomas's.

There are some mild changes they go through when they aren't summoned, but they are just slight shifts. For example, Janus and Remus both have different long hairstyles, and they all have a bit of a hair color change. Their features do shift too, emulating ones Thomas has seen over his lifetime that he'd associate with their personalities.

However, in person and in the mindscape, Roman really thinks 'he's the sh*t' (Virgil taught him that expression). He flaunts his beauty over everyone else's, strutting like the prettiest peacock in the flock. Sure, he's good looking, but the same level of good looking as all the other sides.

"You're all so handsome. But not as handsome as me." Logan recalls him saying in an episode.

He tries to use it to one-up the other's, even though they all know they look the same. He also enjoys flaunting his ego, attempting to emulate a lifestyle of the rich and famous when he feels like it.

It's rather ridiculous.

"You think he's good-looking?" Remus coos.

Logan glares, and changes the slide of the presentation.

2. He fights everyone all the time. (Except for Patton)

It seems that Roman has made the most rivals out of everyone.

He's rivals with his brother, he's got a rivalry with Janus but with more betrayal behind it, he's got his past rivalry with Virgil, even though now they're the closest friends, and despite making up several times, Logan is also his rival. Patton seems to be fine, despite their post-wedding event. Logan believes Roman is too worried of defending what he believes in against the literal embodiment of Thomas's morality.

"So, you two have tried making up, but have you considered... Making out???" Remus pitches, his smile all teeth.

Logan sputters a bit. "Puh- Wha- I don't think that would work."

Logan has in fact not thought of making out with Roman, thank you very much. Not even when they're so close, passionately arguing about who-knows-what in the spur of the moment, where it would be so easy to move just a little bit closer and connect his lips to the soft pink ones of the prince.

He has not thought about making out with Roman, because he does not have a crush on him. Period. End of story.

The two of them argue a lot. Whether it's how Thomas should spend his day, to the Chicken or the Egg dilemma (Logan knows he's right, by the way, Roman just won't see that the egg came first), to the ideal temperature for a heating pillow, to the best Crofter's flavor. They can range from productive, to stupid, and by the end of it they may just be fighting about nothing at all.

They jab at each other, come up with clever arguments, and although they're technically fighting, it sometimes feels more like a duel.

"Or a mating ritual." Virgil says under his breath.

"These points don't sound very negative." Janus adds, twirling some of his hair with his finger.

"It is negative. We fight a lot. He fights people a lot. Every issue seems to be a battle to him that he can outmatch, despite being better suited as a civil discussion." Logan stands taller, trying to defend his point.

"Well, that makes sense. I understand this point now. Go on." Janus waves his gloved hand in a dismissive gesture.

"Alright." Logan clicks his presenter button, and the slide changes.

3. He's loud. Super loud. All the time.

From singing to dancing to bantering, there never does seem to be a dull moment when Roman is around. Some may call it nice, but Logan would say that's a very polite description. It certainly isn't nice when Logan's trying to get work done, or watch a movie, or enjoy a peaceful breakfast, or most of the time really.

Logan has stopped working outside when he's trying to be productive because Roman will, without fail, come in singing, and then start a little fight with Logan that distracts him from his work and renders him unproductive for a long time because all he can think about is Roman.

"Hm... Wonder why that is." Janus interrupts, rolling his eyes.

"Well, you don't need to wonder. I said it was because of our fighting." Logan nervously adjusts his already immaculately placed glasses, resuming his point to his slide presentation.

It's odd, because sometimes even without leaving his room, he can still hear the sounds of Roman's voice in his head. He theorizes the absence of all that noise is making him subconsciously fill it in ( even though his mind also provides him with clear images of Roman's smile).

He can't escape the noise on movie nights. Roman will sing along to any song, scream at the most poorly-timed jumpscares, and no matter what, criticize the movie. Logan does participate in that last step from time to time.

During dinners, it depends. Sometimes, Roman will come in and do his thing, sometimes he'll make a dramatic entrance, grab a plate and then go off to work on something, and sometimes he won't show up at all, off on a quest in the imagination. Those particular meals are peaceful. Sometimes they feel empty, but so far, no one else has complained. Especially considering with Remus' and Janus' seats added to the table, dinner can be a wild event.

Sometimes, when Logan gets lonely, he'll bring his work outside. Every time, he can guarantee that Roman will be there eventually. He provides a healthy distraction, and he always feels much lighter after a bantering session.

But most of the time, he just can't stand it. How can one be so flamboyant for so many hours of the day? Logan had theorized it had something to do with overcompensation, his need for validation and attention, but then thought it was strange theorizing about his friends and went back to work.

Overall, not the worst trait, but it being applied to every scenario adds to the fact that he is infuriating.

"Hold on, can we circle back to the part where you said you thought of him smiling-" Virgil begins, only to be interrupted by Logan pointing his pointer at him.

"No, we will not. Next point."

4. He makes up stupid nicknames.

And he makes a lot of them. Even during serious talks, you'd think he had forgotten your name and was too scared to ask, so he supplies an abundance of back-ups to make you feel special. And they are quite varied, though all slightly jabbing. There are play-on-words, references thrown about... It would have impressed Logan, had all of his designated nicknames not revolved around him being a nerd.

"Hey Microsoft Turd."

"I need your help, Egghead."

"Listen here, Erlenmeyer Trash-"

"Calculator Watch."

"Oh Book Geeeerm~"

"Sure thing Specs."

Logan actually didn't mind specs, but his point still stands. All insulting, clever, but still stupid nicknames. Sometimes, he wonders if Roman keeps a book of them around. Somewhere in his room, filled with all the names he'll unleash onto his unsuspecting companions. Logan may have tried to come up with a list of his own in retaliation, but he couldn't think of anything Roman would think was clever. He spent almost a full night on it, hair a mess, glasses askew, head resting on his desk as he tried to come up with something at least remotely good enough. It interrupted his perfect circadian rhythm. Never again.

Except for the next night, where he tried the exact same stunt again, but that doesn't matter.

What does, is that all of those factors cause aggravation. He always feels weird when Roman gives him a nickname, varying from annoyance to a strange tingling.

"Are you saying he should stop?" Virgil interrupts, frustrated. "This point is going nowhere."

"I-" He's not sure. Although some of the insults are quite jabbing, Logan does want to support Roman's creative process. Not to mention, the nickname ‘specs’ oddly does hold a place in his heart.

"OoOoOoohhh, I have an idea!" Remus cackles. Although Logan is hesitant, he gestures to continue. "Okay, so pinky swear I won't try anything on you, but just close your eyes, and imagine how this nickname would make you feel if Roman said it."

Logan apprehensively closes his eyes, and Remus does nothing but lean slightly forward in his seat, and puts on his best Roman impression. Which is pretty good, considering they're twin brothers.

"How are you today, my love?"

Immediately, Logan flushes bright red from head to toe, covering his face in his hands and squirms. Remus's cackling intensifies by a tenfold, and the other two are poorly failing to contain their laughter.

"That's- That's- That's... N-not a nickname. Th-That's a p-pet name."

"Awww, but you're blushiiiing!" Remus squeals in amusement.

"Falsehood. N-no." Logan says, not enough bite in it to hold value. "We are going to move on now. That just... caught me off guard." He says, adjusting his tie several times, trying to compose himself. "The point is, his nicknames are stupid, and I don't like them- No, don't look at me like that Remus even that one- so it adds to his infuriating nature." Logan grabs the presentation button and clicks it aggressively to the next slide.

"And now, for my concluding point."

5. He is incredibly and willingly dumb.

Sometimes Logan thinks he wouldn't be surprised by the illogical things Roman would say. And then he gets proven incredibly wrong.

"Much like your... 'illogical feelings', mayhaps?" Janus drawls.

Shush, Logan is talking.

Granted, both Creativity twins have proven to be rather illogical, as they are embodiments of creativity, a force that knows only slight bounds to logic. Only with a defying mind can people push boundaries in the advancement of society. That doesn't mean however that those defying minds need to be intelligent.

"I believe Virgil specifically had called Roman a.." He takes out his special cards, flipping through them. " 'A Himbo'. Judging from his past and present behaviors and from the definition itself, it is safe to assume that yes, he is in fact a Himbo."

One instance he can remember is during a picnic in the imagination. It was Patton's birthday, and Roman wanted to do something special, so he set up a picnic for them all to attend. Logan doesn't enjoy visiting the imagination as much, as when he's there, things become more realistic and that makes him feel like a burden. Regardless, it was for Patton's birthday, and so he decided it would be polite to come along.

Everyone was guided by a trail of flowers to an opening in the forest, where a giant picnic blanket was laid out, pillows thrown around, and a large picnic basket stood in the center. There were many balloons of pastel pink and blue tied around, and the birds were chirping in a joint melody. It sounds almost like Happy Birthday.

Logan, as he approaches, hopes that his influence won't cause ants to emerge, because although that would be realistic, it would also be quite the nuisance.

He and the other's are just dressed in their usual attire, but as Roman emerges from the trees, he is wearing a shiny red party hat to go along with his prince outfit.

Roman immediately goes to serenading Patton and placing a party hat on top of his head, light blue with a little pompom on the top. He ushers him to sit on one of the largest pillows, and then goes around giving everyone else party hats. Logan stills when Roman gets to him last, a dark blue party hat with little stars in his hand.

"Do I have to wear that?" He asks. Although, sure, it does look nice, he doesn't want to seem ridiculous.

"Come on, you're in good company. Please? For Patton?" Roman bats his eyelashes at Logan, who sighs and lets him put the party hat onto his head.

Roman runs off to the birthday boy, and they all sit down. The time passes peacefully, songs being sung and Roman releasing a horde of puppies to the joy of the guests. By the time the food is out, everything seems to be going well, until they're all eating, and Roman pulls out an orange. As he's about to peel it, Logan speaks up.

"Roman, I would advise against that." Which may sound ridiculous to most people, but Logan is an expert on many logical things. ( Orange peels have a flammable liquid in them called limonene, and as both it and a balloon, made of latex, are non-polar, the liquid can dissolve the balloon, thus causing it to explode.)

"Against what?" Roman asks, but he does stop his attempt.

Logan adjusts his glasses, ready to explain. "Eating an orange near a balloon. As I cause the imagination to become more logical, doing so will most likely cause-"

"Oh puh-lease! I'm sure whatever wacky science things you're going to say don't actually work here! I mean, there is plenty of influence to go arou-" Roman, the spiteful side he is, gets even closer to the balloon, starting to peel it. Lo-and-behold, he can't finish his denying before the balloon right beside him explodes with a loud POP. The sound sends him jumping back in fear, screeching to the nine hells, and then falling backwards onto another balloon, scaring him again. Several sides laughed out loud at his pain, while Patton watched him, worried. Logan smiled internally at the karma, before getting up and making sure he was okay.

Roman did spend the rest of the party in a sulky mood, but the party was still a huge success. They had some good food, and while Logan made Patton a flower crown, he fed him forfulls of cake. It was a nice bonding moment. When everyone separated to return to the mindscape, Roman waved them all off from the imagination door. Logan turns back to look at him, but Roman makes no move to follow them all out.

"You're not coming back yet?" Logan asks, adjusting his glasses.

Roman sighs. "No, not yet. I'm afraid this dashing prince has a little bit of cleaning to do. And perhaps an adventure. You never know." He leans on the doorframe, smiling.

"Well, that is correct. I in fact do not know what you'll be doing." Logan nods to himself. "Do you need any help cleaning? I doubt I'll be much help with the adventure, but I do have hands." He gestures to his hands.

Roman looks quite surprised. "Oh, thanks for the offer, specs. I think I've got it all covered though."

Logan offers a hesitant smile. "Alright then. Let me know if that changes."

Roman quickly smiles back, a faint pink dusting his cheeks, and turns back into the imagination and shutting the door. Logan stands there for a moment, but not sure why. It's clear that Roman was not feeling all that great from the balloon moment. Even Logan, terrible at deciphering emotions, can tell that much. Perhaps he needs to let off some steam.

He just can't understand Roman most of the time. They do have so many similarities, being too proud for their own good, but it's almost like they're in two separate worlds. Logan, the learner he is, wishes he could explore Roman's own. Understand it. Understand him, and his way of thinking. Even though Roman is mostly dumb, he does make good points, and Logan tries to prioritize his input, as it's usually what Thomas is hoping and dreaming for as well.

~~~

The last slide shines back at them all. A concluding statement that makes the three watching sides snicker a little bit.

"And I believe he just doesn't understand how much we all think he's great. I swear, he's just so dense! It's so aggravating! How can he not tell that he's worth everything? Why doesn't he understand that we all care for him? That I care for him? He's wonderful, for god's sake! And that I don't mean to hurt him with my critiques. I want him to thrive! I-"

Everything stops. Logan takes a moment of silence. The three sides look at him, each with different degrees of anticipation. One looks pretty much ready to pounce out of his seat.

"...Oh."

And all at once, everything gets strung back into motion. Confetti literally falls from the ceiling as Remus jumps for joy, circling a very mortified looking Logan. Janus, the tired soul, rolls his eyes and lets out a slow, long clap. Virgil just rests his head in his arms.

"I can't believe this. You sit us all down for a presentation you probably double-checked and proofread, like a nerd, and only NOW you realize you were wrong all along? Why didn't you say anything, snake-face?" Virgil complains, sitting up just to glare at him.

"Wo-ow, it isn't as if I was saying that this whole time? No, it couldn't be." Janus deadpans, sarcasm spilling from his mouth like an old, worn, broken dam.

Logan doesn't move from his stand-still spot beside the projector, but Remus manages to bounce in circles around him, cooing. "Lo-lo's got a cruuuush! A crushy crush! A crushed crust of a crush! A crevice cracking ‘cause of the crushed crust-" He was going to continue, throwing expired banana peels around to substitute rose petals, until the sound of the door opening catches everyone's attention.

"Hey losers, Patton wanted to know if you-" Lo and behold, Roman walks in, regal as ever, smiling until he takes in the sight before him. The boring classroom look, contrasted by the amount of confetti that stopped falling as soon as he walked in. Janus and Virgil, wide-eyed and looking at him, completely still. Remus, caught mid dance, frozen in place with a smile. Logan, looking at him in the way one may look milliseconds after being caught stealing government secrets. Roman's eyes flicker to each of them, before settling on the projector.

"Roman. I-I can explain-" Logan starts, but Roman is already reading the words on the screen.

"... 'In short, he saddles me with unnecessary... feelings'? 'Unease, and uncertainty'? Who... Oh my god! Logan!" Roman looks at him, smiling in disbelief and amazement. "I know what this meanssss!" Filled with giddy delight, he sidesteps the table.

Logan gulps as Roman approaches, turning beet red as Roman takes his hands in his two own. "Y-Yes?" He practically squeaks as Roman looks him right in the eyes.

"Yes! Ohhh, this is so exciting!" The three bystanders watch, once again in anticipation, as Roman swings their interlocked hands.

"Yes?" Logan offers a small, tentative smile.

"You have a crush on someoooone! Oh Logan, you should've told me!" Roman smiles, completely oblivious to the internal facepalm of several present members.

"I-I'm sorry..." Logan looks down, slightly disappointed but still too flustered to say anything.

"God save the dense." Janus mutters, inspecting his gloves fingers.

"Don't be sorry! Come, we must make plans! I shall be your matchmaker! This is going to be perfeeeect!" Roman, sings, dancing out of the room and dragging Logan along by their still intertwined hands. The other sides watch them go.

After a moment of processing, Virgil sighs. "Well, I thought that was going to be resolved. Turns out they're both as dense as... dense people." He can't seem to think of any other similes.

"Welp, I'm just happy that they're one step closer to getting. it. on. romantically." Remus punctuates every word with some rather immature hand gestures. “And that they stop dancing around each other.”

"Who do you think Roman thinks Logan has a crush on?" Virgil asks, cogs turning in his brain.

Janus lounges backwards. "Well, let's see... Soooo many options. Either he thinks it's someone outside of Thomas's head, or the simple answer..."

Remus and Virgil both look at him, both with looks of realization.

"Patton."

~~~

#logince #logince fic #logan sanders #ts logan #remus sanders #janus sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #ts roman #implied patton sanders #tw food #oliver writes #i also snuck an ace attorney reference #i was going to wait but i'm just very excited to post this #5 Reasons fic

[zillennial97]

Friends to Lovers | Larry Fanfic Recs

Hiding Place by alivingfire | 365k | Explicit

Louis never wanted a soulmate, didn’t really care for the whole Bonding thing at all, really. Enter Harry Styles, who’s wanted to be Bonded for as long as he could remember. With one fateful meeting in an X Factor bathroom, Louis gets a dagger on his arm and the realization that just because Harry is his soulmate doesn’t mean it’s mutual.

From the X Factor house to Madison Square Garden, from the Fountain Studios stage to stadiums across the world, Louis has to learn to love without losing himself completely, because someday his best friend will Bond to someone and replace Louis as the center of his universe. Meanwhile, Harry begins to think that maybe fate doesn’t actually know what it’s doing after all, because his other half has clearly been right in front of him the whole time. All he has to do now is convince Louis to give them a chance.

Or, the canon compliant Harry and Louis love story from the very beginning, where the only difference is that the love between them is literally written on their skin, and there’s only so much they can hide.

And Then a Bit by infinitelymint | 158k | Explicit

“We’d like to give the fans what they want.” Magee states, placing his hand on the table in front of him and leaning forward. “We want to give them Larry Stylinson.”

Or, take a parallel universe where Louis and Harry were never together, mix in a two year hiatus and an impending comeback, pour in a dash of lost fans, two tablespoons of strong friendship and a Modest! employee with a good idea. Add a squeeze of pretending to be a couple, lots of kisses and a tattoo or two. Stir. Serve: the mother of all publicity stunts.

(aka Harry and Louis fake a relationship for publicity. Eventually it becomes a lot less fake and a lot more real.)

Wild Love by purpledaisy | 130k | Explicit

“Good,” Julia says, clearly pleased to have them both uncomfortable and unable to look at each other. “Now, I only have one more question before you can go. What are you planning to do when this experiment ruins your friendship?”

“We said we’d stay friends no matter what,” Harry says smoothly, his chin lifting in defense.

“That was our one thing going into it,” Louis agrees. “Stay friends no matter what.”

Julia raises a perfectly manicured brow, “That’s all fine and good. But I hope you realize your emotions aren’t going to realize this is an experiment in the end. If one of you falls for the other and finds out those feelings are not reciprocated, you’re not going to be able to laugh it off as a social experiment. I’m not saying you shouldn’t do this, I’m just hoping you’ve considered all of the possible outcomes.”

- AU: Two best friends try to date each other for forty days. It's supposed to be fun until emotions make it complicated.

California Sold by isthatyoularry | 123k | Mature

Notoriously closeted boyband member Harry Styles is famous on a global scale, meanwhile Louis, as his best friend, is back home in Manchester, living the typical life of a 24 year old. When Harry needs Louis with him in LA, a publicity stunt gone wrong changes their friendship forever.

A fake-relationship AU between two lifelong best friends.

Tired Tired Sea by MediaWhore | 113k | Mature

As a B&B owner on the most remote of all the British Isles, Louis Tomlinson is used to spending the coldest half of the year in complete isolation, with his dog and the sea as sole companions. Until, one day, a mysterious stranger on a quest to rebuild himself rents a room for the winter.

Like a Bullet in the Dark by Vurdoc | 99k | Explicit

Prince Harold Edward Styles Lancaster is second in line to the throne of Great Britain. He is also your average Uni student- or he tries to be, anyway.

With a promise from the press (and his father) that they'll leave him alone for four years, he sets out to be a student at Cambridge, when he meets his very normal, very working class, very handsome suite-mate, Louis Tomlinson.

Louis makes Harry feel more like a person than he ever has before, which might cause some issues later on- 'cause Harry has a secret that he's only told his sister Gemma about.

Little does he know though, that Louis has some secrets of his own.

A Will & Kate Au- with a twist.

Christmas-ing With You by dolce_piccante | 65k | Mature

Two writers from Loving Heart Television, the premiere network for holiday romance films, find that, sometimes, love is not only in their works of fiction.

Faking It by TheCellarDoor | 46k | Mature

A uni AU in which Louis has been Harry’s best friend since he offered him cubed fruit on the playground, and they spend more time cuddling in their dorm beds than they do apart, but it’s not like that. Or is it?

Aka Harry pretends to date his best friend to escape unwanted attention from a too insistent classmate and hopes it won’t blow up in his face. Featuring embarrassing dildo accidents, awkward boners, longing, first times, late night conversations, emotional discoveries and Niall as the exasperated friend with bad advice.

if the sun don't shine by falsegoodnight | 36k | Explicit

Louis finds himself struck frozen, fingers stuck in place where he’s flattened them against the cold railing. It takes every bit of his remaining strength to pull them away, sliding them under his shirt and pressing them to his stomach to leech some of the warmth. He hardly pays attention to the bite of the wind and air on his shivering body. He can only pay attention to the music.

The music that is undoubtedly new to Louis’ ears, yet listening to it is the most familiar thing Louis has ever experienced. An inexplicable rush of emotions flood his mind and body, rendering him speechless and hollow. It’s a call of loneliness. It rings of everything Louis’ been feeling.

And the pure yearning - the intense longing for something and someone - tears through straight to Louis’ heart. The desperation feels all too intimate, all too real. It makes Louis think of what he yearns for more than anything. It makes him think of his soulmate.

-

In a world where you meet your soulmates in dreams, Louis has spent the last three years going to bed hoping to finally meet his, only to end up disappointed time and time again. It all changes with a violin.

From the Start by allwaswell16 | 32k | Explicit

Louis has no idea that one act of kindness will cause his life to spiral out of control. But that's what happens when his new friend fake proposes to him and a video of it goes viral.

Barefoot in Blue Jeans by indiaalphawhiskey | 24k | Explicit

AU. Louis Tomlinson is trying desperately hard not to fall for his son’s au pair, but he can’t, for the life of him, remember why.

475. The hope that this fear is unfounded.

In Dreams by dolce_piccante | 23k | Mature

AU. When Harry moves to a new city, his new flat come with a number of sweet, anonymous gifts and surprises that brighten his days. Could it be a friendly ghost? Another friendly presence in his new building is his tattooed neighbor, Louis, who seems determined to put a smile back on his face.

You're Writing Verses About Me by Rearviewdreamer | 23k | Teen And Up Audiences

Everybody knows that Louis has never been one for serious boyfriends. His reputation around campus precedes him, which is why he doesn't think twice before proudly telling his mother about his new and completely fabricated relationship with his oddly quiet and completely

And I Will Hold On To You by darkmarkburning, staybeautiful | 23k | Mature

“I can’t believe my best friend is about to be Prime Minister of Canada,” Harry whispered in his ear, his arms tight around Louis’ shoulders. “Who decided it was a good idea to let some brash kid from Doncaster run a country?”

“I don’t know,” Louis laughed into his shoulder, “but if you promise not to tell them they’ve made a mistake I’ll give you a posh office.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal, Tomlinson.” Harry pulled away and smacked a kiss onto Louis’ cheek. “I’m proud of you, Lou, I can’t fucking believe it, but I’m proud of you.”

or Louis has just been elected Prime Minister of Canada and Harry is his best friend since childhood.

the way the storms blow by rbbsbb | 21k | Explicit

Louis doesn’t have a habit of thinking about Harry’s dick.

That would be weird, seeing as they’re best mates, and they share a flat, and they’ve spent holidays at each other’s family homes. Their friendship hasn’t ever risen to a point where Louis should want to see his mate’s dick, and he’s happy to keep it that way.

Except, all that Louis can think about is exactly that. The size of it. The shape. The amount of people it’s been in.

Maybe it’s the tequila talking, or the fact that Louis’ just recently walked in to an eyeful of Harry taking turns on some slags that he’s never seen before, but. Louis’ mind can’t stop obsessing over the idea.

Autumn At My Window by TheCellarDoor | 20k | Mature

A canon-compliant AU, in which Harry and Louis are both in the band and have been sharing flats and hotel rooms for nearly five years, but never made the leap past 'friends who are too close for comfort'.

Featuring a lot of pining, Louis' addiction to Harry's scent, and a whole lot of sexual tension that might just snap loose when they decide to spend some time together all on their own.

The Sex Methods by Alice_Novelland | 19k | Explicit

Harry and Louis explore alternative methods aka sex methods to help each other out.

once bitten and twice shy by pinkcords | 19k | Mature

This time as his stomach rolls, there’s no doubt about it. He’s going to vomit. And if he does, it’ll be on Louis’ shoes, a nice little parting gift to go with the embarrassment he’s caused the both of them. “I’m gonna throw up,” he says just as Louis turns to look at him, blue eyes swimming with shock and confusion, and asks, “Is that true?”

Or, in a rush of bravery only senior year can bring, Harry confesses his feelings in a letter to his neighbor and best friend, Louis, only for the entire school to hear it and laugh him out of their small town in Wisconsin. Ten years later, Harry's a successful lawyer at Columbia Records, coming home for Christmas for the first time since he departed for college. He plans to work his way through the trip, eat his mom's cooking, and avoid everyone from his past for as long as possible. The only problem is best laid plans hardly ever go as intended.

Oblivious by Speechless | 19k | Explicit

"You say it's nothing serious after you've been obsessing over it for months," Liam observes, pausing their videogame. "But now you barely talk about it-" "You guys fucking ignore me whenever I try!" Louis shouts, bumping his shoulder against Liam's and hurting himself in the process. "You're postponing sex, when it's obvious that Luke's up for it at this point." Liam ignores him. "For some reason you've left Harry in the dark about it-" "What?!" Louis snaps, banging his controller against the coffee table. "I have not!" "And no matter how blatant it is, no matter how fucking ridiculous you both get when it comes to it-" "Shut your hole." Louis urges, pinching his thigh, as soon as Harry enters the room. "Shush."

* Where Louis gets a little crush on Luke and for some reason Harry starts acting weird *

searching for a sweet surrender (but this is not the end) by feelslikehxme | 18k | Teen And Up Audiences

Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles, the two most loved coaches on The Voice UK known for their banter on the show and best friendship off. Louis’s determined to win and finally end Harry’s winning streak with Zayn Malik on his team, but Harry’s flirting and Liam Payne have different plans.

— Or an AU based off the Voice where Louis’s Adam, Harry’s Blake, Niall’s Shakira, Zayn and Liam have a cliche Romeo/Juliet love story and Louis’s too old for pathetic pining.

Can I bother you for a sex? by perfectdagger (sincerelyste) | 16k | Explicit

Reason #40 – Called/texted the wrong person, but he was into it anyway

“So, this isn’t really an invite for a sex, I see,” Louis spoke, not missing the chance. There was a teasing smile on his lips as he turned around to face Harry again after he had just closed the door.

Harry let out a laugh as he closed his eyes and shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Oh for fuck's sake, Louis,” he looked back at Louis, “this will haunt me forever now, won’t it?”

Louis shrugged. “Not my fault some people manage to mistext and sext others at the same time.”

When Harry mistexts Louis, Louis realises that he wouldn't mind Harry bothering him with anything, especially not with sex.

You'll Be Home For Christmas by 2tiedships2 | 15k | Not Rated

“Honesty, Lou, just ask Harry for help.”

Louis remained silent as he continued to scowl at the Christmas calendar Niall had hung on their refrigerator.

“And be nice to my calendar filled with holiday cheer,” Niall instructed. “You’re going to burn a fucking hole in it from the way you’re glaring at the innocent thing. It’s not the calendar’s fault that your heat is starting so close to Christmas.”

You're The One That I Want by spacecakesandmilkshakes | 15k | Explicit

Harry had always been Louis' best friend and...well...his baby, until one day he realized that his baby was all grown up.

show you the stars in the daylight by bruisedhoney | 13k | Explicit

Louis laughed, the sound loud and borderline obnoxious. Harry winced. “Are you kidding, Haz? I wouldn’t even look twice at someone that couldn’t pick me up.”

And, well. That was new information to Harry. It’s not like Louis had ever mentioned to him that he was his type in any way, shape, or form. Harry shifted closer into the space between Louis’s legs, even more intrigued than before. “Why not?” he asked curiously, all pink lips and big curls. Louis smiled.

“Tiny, innocent, little Harold. Need someone that can pick me up, don’t I? I like being tossed around a little. You know, pinned down and made to take it. Lifted up like I’m nothing,” Louis said it all with a confident smile, his sharp little teeth tugging at his bottom lip as he locked eyes with the jock across the kitchen. “Think he might come over here. Move over. I don’t want him to think we’re together.”

Or, the one where Louis has a type and at sixteen and scrawy, it's definitely not his best friend's little brother Harry...ten years later, he changes his mind.

when everybody wants you by nightwideopen | 11k | Mature

Harry nearly faints on the spot. He got the job. He’s going to be on Saturday Night Live.

Three of Harry's dreams come true, then one of them falls apart.

or

the SNL au that no one asked for

Shape of You by Only_angel_28 | 11k | Explicit

“Seriously?” Surely, Harry must be joking. Louis arches a skeptical brow and snaps the waistband of Harry’s joggers playfully. “What exactly do you have down there, Styles? I know you’ve got four nipples, d’ya have a couple extra bollocks as well or summat?”

“No!” Harry shrieks, his voice bordering on shrill. “No,” He repeats a little quieter, calmer, “I just—I’m, er, kinda…big, I guess.”

Louis rolls his eyes in fond exasperation. “That’s hardly a problem, curly.”

*Or Harry is insecure about a certain rather large part of his anatomy that is apparently intimidating to the point where it has actually scared off potential shags. When he ends up confessing this to his best friend and roommate, Louis takes it upon himself to prove that Harry’s size doesn't have to be a curse, and decides to help show him just how perfect he is.

Waiting by allwaswell16 for LadyLondonderry | 10k | Explicit

Louis Tomlinson was Harry’s omega, of this Harry had always been sure. Unfortunately for Harry, Louis seemed to think they were just best friends. The six weeks that Harry has to live with Louis were going to be rough.

You Give Me Fever (What A Lovely Way To Burn) by my_fandom_OTPs | 10k | Explicit

Louis walks in on Harry jerking off in the shower. What happens after is just… Impulsive and spontaneous.

the value of this moment lives in metaphor by clicheanna for hattalove | 10k | Teen And Up Audiences

Louis and Harry are best friends and absolutely nothing more. It’s a bit strange that, suddenly, everyone thinks they’re dating.

Or the one where they’re all teachers at a high school and students are more invested in their lives than normally expected.

trusting things beyond mistake by sarcasticfluentry | 9k | Explicit

"Is that even possible?" asks Harry.

All of them stare at him for several seconds, and then Louis says, "What, coming untouched?"

"Christ," Zayn mutters, throwing his hands up. “This fucking band, I swear.”

...or, Harry wants to see if he can come without touching his cock and ends up getting more than he bargained for.

And I Will Steady Your Hand by kiwikero | 9k | Explicit

All first year university students who had not yet presented were strongly advised to join the Fire Away meetings, a support group for so-called 'late bloomers.'

They were not, however, advised to fall in love with someone else at the meetings without knowing what they might eventually present as.

A Christmas Wish by Snowy38 | 8k | Mature

"So when are you going to tell him?"

Louis pursed his lips at his sister, his Skype video call relaying his thoughts on that subject perfectly.

"Next question," he mused.

Lottie rolled her eyes.

"It's your birthday in four days, Louis."

"What difference does that make?" He scoffed.

She shrugged.

"You can get drunk and confess how you feel and take it back afterwards if he doesn't feel the same."

That might work if Louis wasn't in love with Harry. But Lottie didn't know that and she didn't need to find out.

"Thanks Lots," he said anyway.

"Seriously Lou what's stopping you?"

Louis sighed.

"Fear mostly."

Under that Damn Mistletoe by hickeystyles | 7k | Mature

Louis' heart froze when he looked over and saw Liam whispering in Harry’s ear and nodding towards the mistletoe. Louis’ eyes widened comically before he dove out of sight so Harry couldn’t see him standing under the mistletoe like an idiot, or worse, like he was part of Liam’s plan to have Harry kiss him.

Or a Christmas Party AU where Louis is in love with his best friend Harry and everyone else is trying to force the two of them under the mistletoe together

We Could Be A Dream by Bearandleonardwrite | 7k | Explicit

“So, I’ve never seen you at one of these parties before,” Harry says as he hands Louis his drink. “Who’re you here for?”

Well, shit. Louis was definitely not expecting that. He sips on his drink to give him a few moments to think of an answer and then, “Oh, y’know. I’m dating the host’s brother. What about you?” He’s quite pleased with himself. Great answer. He takes another drink as a reward.

Harry grins at him, eyes bright, and shrugs. “Gemma’s my sister.” Louis hums around the rim of his cup waiting for him to elaborate. “She’s the host,” he tacks on, smug smile on his face. Louis chokes on his drink and tries his best to glare at Harry while he coughs. Harry rubs at his back until he can breathe properly again, which is actually really not that helpful. “Didn’t realize we were dating, Lou. I’m flattered.”

(Basically; Louis meets Harry at a party that he wasn't invited to. He ends up asking Harry to tutor him so he can keep seeing him. Featuring a bit of pining and a tea party.)

Mission Fucking Impossible by orphan_account | 7k | Mature

“Are you and Louis fucking?”

Harry nearly spits out his drink as he tries to communicate a "what the ever living fuck" to Niall with his eyes.

Niall takes another casual sip of his beer “Not like I’m the only one thinking it mate, I’m just the only one saying it out loud.”

- Harry is in love with Louis, and he is almost positive Louis is in love with him too. Naturally, Harry deals with this by trying to get Louis horny and hope for the best.

Things don't exactly work out how he plans.

One day to believe in you by mediaville | 7k | Explicit

A mysterious force compels Louis to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Even when it's really inconvenient.

Harry blinks and has the nerve to look surprised. "You think about me when you get off?"

"Yes," Louis says. He wonders how hard he'd need to punch himself in the face to knock himself out.

"Often?"

"Yes, Christ, Harry," Louis groans. "Probably eight times a week for going on six years now. On average, you know. More when we were touring, less when I've been visiting family. Anything else you'd like to know?"

Fake It Till We Make It by whileatwiltshire | 7k | General Audiences

#33- Keeping up with the Neighbors

“We can fake it.”

What?

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“No I did not. Say it again.”

“I said” Harry started slowly, “We can fake having sex to teach them a lesson.”

It was clear to say that Louis's mouth went a little dry at the suggestion.

Or ,

Their neighbours were a bit too loud during their bedroom activities and Harry comes up with the worst plan to shut them up. Louis agrees anyways.

Web Me Harder by iwillpaintasongforlou | 6k | Explicit

Louis Tomlinson, otherwise known as London's masked hero Spiderman, finds himself crashing through the window of Harry Styles one night after a particularly nasty fight with a villain. Luckily Harry is a nursing student with a soft spot for caped crusaders who's more than happy to tend to all of Louis' wounds, no matter how many times he swings by.

candy in your mouth (i know you love me) by embodied | 6k | Explicit

“You’re wrong,” Harry says, jaw clenched tight. “Because if all I wanted was a fuck, I’ve got at least three willing parties a phone call and a five minute drive away. What I want is you. I want us, I want it to be normal again -”

“What the fuck is normal?” Louis yells, much too loudly, and has to pause to consciously lower his voice before he speaks again. “Because a year ago, normal was eating too much takeaway and watching B-movies on Netflix in your room, and then normal was me choking on your cock at half past two in the morning, and I don’t know about you, but as of the past few weeks, normal is not seeing or talking to you at all, because I’ve all but admitted that I’m fucking crazy for you and you don’t know what to say to that.” Louis’ chest heaves, his breath coming out short. He hears his own throat stick when he swallows, and his voice is decidedly weaker when he asks, “So which one is it, Harry?”

AU. Things have shifted since last Christmas.

Running Through a Cloud of Steam by allwaswell16 | 5k | Mature

As Harry’s long anticipated twenty-first birthday approaches, he anxiously awaits the moment when he finally meets his soulmate. He’s not even sure he believes in soulmates, but at the very least, he hopes to prove to his best friend that nothing can come between their friendship--not even a soulmate.

You Can't Blame Me For Tryin' by lululawrence | 5k | Mature

Reason # 38 - Because He Is From One of the Countries You Haven't Had Sex With a Person From Yet.

Louis had been accepted into the study abroad program through his uni back home and therefore got to spend a year in rural Minnesota, of all places, but he wasn’t going to complain. It was still a pretty cool experience, even if it was far different from what he had been expecting. And besides, if he’d been sent to literally any other university, he’d never have met Harry.

If It's Meant To Be (It'll Be, It'll Be) by lululawrence | 4k | Not Rated

“So, anyway. I’m done here and on my way to the airport. I think I’m expected to be there in the morning, around ten. I’ll let you know when I’m getting close.”

“Sounds good.” Harry pulled back from the window and threw himself onto one of the beds. Once he got comfortable, he steeled himself and then went for it. “It’s been too long this time, Lou,” he finally whispered. He watched as Louis bit his lip and nodded slowly.

“I know,” Louis agreed, just as quiet in return. “We have to swear to never go this long without seeing each other again. Two months is just...unacceptable. I’m gonna go now, but I’ll see you soon. ‘Kay?”

“Yeah. See you. Be safe,” Harry said, far too fondly for his best friend. He couldn’t help it though. It was how he always had been and probably always would be.

They hung up and Harry threw his arm over his face.

“I am so in love with him,” he whined to himself. “Fuck.”

Satisfaction by iwillpaintasongforlou | 2k | Teen And Up Audiences

Louis and Harry have known each other since before they could remember and been in love with one another for about as long, even though both steadfastly refuse to admit it. When Louis starts dating other people, it is only to help himself move on and not at all to make Harry jealous. And the sulking sort of anger Harry feels when he watches Louis kiss other people is completely irrelevant anyways.

#larry fanfiction recommendations #larry fanfic rec #larry fic #larry fanfiction #larry stylinson #louis tomlinson #harry styles #one direction fanfiction #one direction fanfic recs #larry fanfiction masterpost #friends to lovers

[crazyfreckledginger]

Ikemen Vampire x Reader - “Residents In Modern Times”

Requested by anon: “Hello glorious author-chan! I have a request for you. I have a fun little imagine for you. Can you make an Ikemen Vampire imagine of what their reactions would be like in modern times?”

A/N: I honestly don’t know what this is, like it ended up as the child of a drabble and a headcanon.

Warning: implied smut and nudity (come on Arthur is here)

Napoleon Bonaparte:

He’d be shocked and in awe at the same time.

Wanting to know EVERYTHING about how people live in the 21st century.

Is it a better, easier life? Is everyone treated equally and safe?

He’s astonished by the night lights as well, so bright and beautiful.

It’s absolutely unforgettable and he stays up at night a little longer to watch the busy city below, drinking the beautiful view until he falls asleep. 

Also more content with the clothing fashion.

Yes it’s very unusual to him since he’s not used to it but clothes used to be so uncomfortable, especially for women.

Though he really didn’t feel comfortable with such revealing clothes. 

He’s very cute about it around you though, hiding in your neck with flushed, embarrassed cheeks. 

Leonardo Da Vinci:

Doesn’t show his amazement as much except through his tone of voice.

Wants to know how a phone works.

Surprisingly -- or unsurprisingly --  not having to explain it regularly, he picks up on it very quickly.

He’s very impressed. 

Your days were divided into visiting shops, showing him technologies, public transport, probably every single thing about the city and cuddling in bed and showing him how the TV works because “the mattress is so comfortable”.

Even though you know how comfortable a surface is, never stopped him from falling asleep.

He really likes it in the modern day.

I think he would be one of the residents that would fit in rather quickly and easily. 

Comte De Saint Germain: 

It’s not that much of a shocker for him for obvious reasons but because you’d spent your life in modern day, he got to see your view and had a much positive outlook on it.

Not that it was negative to begin with, he just didn’t pay as much attention to it before and now that he has, it’s eye opening, in a way. 

He loved the sparkle in your eyes as you rejoiced in the things you used to know before you travelled back in time. 

It was a sight for sore eyes. 

He enjoyed visiting with you, even though he spent more time seeing the twinkle in your eyes than being happy over the smaller things. 

Comte is much more open about PDA for obvious reasons and he feels the modern day is something the both of you share as a precious memory now.

Arthur Conan Doyle:

His demeanour is one of someone who’s seen everything already but the huge smile and eyes just showed that he was a little boy excited about discovering everything.

Arthur dragged you around to tell him how things work if he couldn’t pick up on by himself. 

You went to a mall and Victoria’s Secret caught his eye so fast it was S C A R Y.

“Try this sweetheart, and this and this-” 

Yes, despite all your protests, you spent the whole day in the store trying on clothes for him. 

He enjoyed it very much.

Arthur promised he would discover something new with you that didn’t involved being naked.

How nice of him *chokes*

It was a tiring day for you since you did all the standing, changing and displaying for him.

But the night provided to be very rewarding hehe

If you know what I mean

;)

You know what I mean, why am I saying this.

Theodorus Van Gogh: 

He has a similar behaviour to Arthur at first, indifferent behaviour but very curious eyes.

You can tell he doesn’t want to ask questions but wants the answers. 

So you just start talking and explaining things.

He’s a little flushed because he would have told you to stop talking by now but he doesn’t since you’re informing him on everything.

Theo would keep visiting until you got tired and wouldn't hesitate to carry you back to your place and cuddle up on the couch.

Showing him how the TV works but he prefers sleeping in your bed because it’s so comfy and he can hug you.

Vincent Van Gogh:

“WOW!” *sparkly eyes*

Asks you about EVERYTHING

Holds your hand the whole time.

Also he apologises for always inquiring about everything.

Reassuring him that it’s alright.

Proceeds to go back to questioning everything.

Politely asks if you guys can go to an exhibition the next day to see paintings and saying yes.

Very gladly cuddling in your neck and saying how amazing everything is.

He’s too cute T-T

Vincent was smiling in his sleep because he got to discover so many new things with you and he couldn’t express how content he was.

Your heart is constantly melting as he acts like an overjoyed puppy.

He’s forever thankful to you and this will always be engraved in his memory.

Amadeus Mozart:

The pianist can’t physically hide his amazement. 

“Can we go to an instrument store?” 

Holds your hand tightly and keeps you close like he’s protecting you.

When in fact it should be the other way around given that you have lived your entire life in the modern day.

But you already knew that 🤦‍♀️

His eyes light up more than they already did when you enter an empty store and there are three or four pianos. 

Mozart let his fingers caress the smooth surface, taking in all the details of the instruments.

He’s relieved that they didn’t change as significantly as everything else in the world. 

Lowkey wants to buy all the pianos because he wants to try them. 

A very confused boy at attire.

And blushing at how more ‘revealing’ they are. 

He could get used to this.

Jean D’Arc:

He would be in silent shock, staying close to you and looking around in amazement. 

Jean would be pretty shy about asking too many questions, not wanting to bother you.

Reassuring him that it was fine, similar to Vincent.

Jean was somehow more considerate about it, not wanting to bother you with his inquiries.

Whispering questions and trying so hard to try and make sense of things himself, sometimes it works, kind of!!

Like Napoleon, he’s relieved the world is happier and fairer. 

It was a huge shock for him at first, everything was different, but he was fortunate enough to be with you.

Now he reminisces of the experience as a magical moment that will forever be engraved in his memory.

Isaac Newton:

Absolutely astonished.

He has so many questions but he didn’t know where to start.

Similar to Jean, he was a little shy about asking questions and trying to solve things on his own.

Being surprised at how complex things turn out to be.

Isaac has mixed emotions about knowing that the foundation of physics are his three famous laws. 

Because the world seemed overwhelmingly unknown and huge, he nearly clung onto you.

You locked your arm with his, seeing his unease but also not wanting to trouble you.

He felt better instantly and silently thanked you, blushing in embarrassment. 

The first thing you taught him was what a phone was and about the kindergarden/school system.

You reminisce about how he went along into town with Napoleon to attempt to teach children.

It wasn’t a particular detail he would have inquired about but he feels strangely relieved about it.

He was touched by the small details you remember about him and he keeps it in mind.

It was an unforgettable experience for him to have with you.

But something he does not want to let go is the bed, it’s shockingly comfortable for him.

Osamu Dazai:

“Wow, are you seeing this (Not Y/N)-chan?” 

“That’s not my name-” 

“What is this?” 

No shame about asking whatsoever. 

“Miraculous!” 

A lot of him grinning and praising everything and anything, including you.

“You’re delightful (Y/N)-chan, such an interesting answer!” 

“D-did you just call me by my nam-”

“Are you coming (Not Y/N)-chan?” 

“Nevermind,” you grumble, pouting as you follow behind him.

He chuckled, finding you so cute before cupping your cheeks and openly kissing you in public.

Dazai finds even more amusement with how flushed you are for a while as you clung onto his arm, answering questions with a breathy tone.

Despite his second degree humour throughout everything, he’s actually thoroughly enjoyed spending time doing this with you and becoming a treasured memory.

William Shakespeare: 

He was actually rendered speechless for a long while.

Which was unusual for him obviously.

But it was a little disconcerting for him since he always had something to say. 

You couldn’t help but eye him admiring everything.

Despite his unnerving silence, the way his eyes lit up was something that you didn’t know you needed to witness. 

It looked like he found something to look forward to in life. (can’t relate lol)

That thought alone made you hopeful and sad at the same time.

He was always very polite and considerate about inquiring about things. 

As in, he always read the ‘room’ before asking, wanting to stay in your good graces, even though he is already in them.

Finding the bed in your place being painfully heaven-like.

If he wasn’t as invested in learning about the modern world, he would totally examine and savour the beauty that is a bed.

Without you knowing, however, he would spend a lot of time studying you as well.

It was fascinating to him, seeing you enjoying yourself in your natural habitat.

Sebastian: 

I mean he lived there before so there isn’t much to say.

He does reminisce a lot though, all previous memories rushing back.

Just as if the residents were a long dream. 

One thing that surprised him a little was that he enjoyed spending time with you in the modern day so much that it’s in a smal, different compartment in his brain altogether.

Basically nostalgia but also happy new memories.

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#ikemen vampire #ikemen vampire x reader #ikevamp #ikevamp x reader #Napoleon Bonaparte #napoleon bonaparte x reader #leonardo da vinci #leonardo da vinci x reader #comte de saint germain #comte de saint germain x reader #arthur conan doyle #arthur conan doyle x reader #theodorus van gogh #theodorus van gogh x reader #vincent van gogh #vincent van gogh x reader #william shakespeare #william shakespeare x reader #amadeus mozart #amadeus mozart x reader #jean d'arc #jean d'arc x reader #isaac newton #isaac newton x reader #osamu dazai #osamu dazai x reader #sebastian #sebastian x reader

[hankwritten]

Hofstadter’s Law

Demoman/Soldier, 2k

Request for MinnesotaMedic821, Drunk

“You sure this best way in, Jane?” Demo muttered quietly as he gazed up at the looming concrete spires of BLU base.

“I am very sure!” Soldier said, not quietly at all. Practically yelling actually. Right in Demo’s ear too, what with his arm slung around the RED’s shoulders as the only thing keeping him upright.

“Shhh!” Demo hushed him. “You want me to go half-deaf as well as half-blind? ‘Sides, the last thing we need right now is the other BLUs hearing us.”

Soldier’s head, lolling like a pad of butter sliding around a hot pan, took a long and winding trip from one side to the other. “…Why?”

“…Because I’m a RED in the middle of a nest o’ BLU corn snakes?” Demo raised a brow. “Ach, you really did have a number done, didn’t you? Remind me not to let you near the Everclear again.”

“Okay! I will definitely remind you!”

Demo eyed him dubiously. “Remind me what, Jane?”

The grey shell of the helmet stared at him for several seconds. “…What?”

“Let’s just get you in, aye? We can do all sorts of filling in each other’s memories when your toesies are tucked safe under your covers.”

But in order get the Soldier safely in bed, they’d need to first traverse the minefield of potential termination that was the center of BLU operations. No problem at all really. It was late—even if some of the mercs had hit the town like Demo and Soldier had, they’d certainly be back by now, fast asleep, no chance at all of waking up and discovering a very difficult to explain situation in the form of an enemy merc carrying around their Soldier. As long as they were quiet, they’d be perfectly safe.

Demo guided Soldier towards the back doors, at which point they promptly ran into the enemy Demoman.

The BLU, spread out on a fabric lawn chair surrounded by dust, desert, and least a half-dozen bottles, blinked wide-eyed at the pair who’d just come around with the low-speed but high-inertia gait of a drunk couple. He shook his head slightly, as though to dispel the ‘ole three am fog and ascertain that yes, that truly was his teammate being helped along by the RED demolition’s man. Demo, for his part, froze like he’d been staked to the ground.

Soldier, as heavy things are want to do, kept going at his expected velocity. It nearly took them both over—Demo had to abandon the arm under his shoulders, lunging to haul Soldier up the waist and folding him in half like a Panini.

“Well,” the BLU in the lawn chair said, “you two look like you had fun.”

His face was a mish-mash of raised brow and, perplexingly enough, a smirk at the corner of his mouth as he bore witness to the two truants. Most shockingly of all, there wasn’t a trace of surprise on his face now, just those shades of smug amusement you put on when watching a particularly entertaining drunkard. The fact that Demo was used to having that expression leveled at him was neither here nor there.

“Er…” he said eloquently.

The flash of dread that’d shot through him when he’d caught sight of the BLU was the worse case scenario of course: reported on, fired, dead in a gravel pit somewhere, all rendered in gory detail by his mind’s eye. (His overactive imagination a bloody menace sometimes.) But as the BLU continued to sit there, not sounding the alarm, not even looking particularly worried, Demo’s fear for his own neck slowly morphed into confusion.

“I was just er-”

“Oh, hello Demoman!” Soldier chimed in. “We have been out. Drinking alcohol!”

“I’ve heard that’s a fun pastime,” his teammate commented mildly.

“Don’t tell him that,” Demo complained, hauling Soldier to an upright position. “Jesus, this er, isn’t what it looks like, honestly.”

“Sure it isn’t,” the BLU said, wearing what could now be identified unmistakably as a smirk. He gestured with his bottle. “Back entrance ‘s that-a-way.”

A little ball of defensiveness, not matter how unjustified, rolled around in Demo’s gut to the point he wanted to stop and give the other Demoman a piece of his mind. Which would probably involve lying. And then consequences to lying since Soldier had already given away this wasn’t a one time thing. He shut his gob and took the out.

Until the hum of the BLU’s resumed tune was far behind them, until the curving architecture of the base would keep them from being overheard, he didn’t dare start asking questions. Only when he was sure that the corner they’d rounded was at a significant distance away did he accusatorily hiss, “what was that about?”

“Hm?” Soldier asked pleasantly. He fixed a dopey smile on his friend, a second ago which had been the responsibility of a beetle crawling a tuft of bullheadidly tenacious grass.

“Your Demo, why’d you tell him where we were? And why didn’t he flip out?”

“You’re my Demo,” Soldier hummed unhelpfully.

“Ach,” Demo said, realizing he’d get nowhere with the security lights and a whole herd of horseflies bearing down on them. “Fine, lets get you inside first. But I’ve still got some bloody questions.”

They’d arrived at the unassuming little door cut into the base’s thick concrete, welded metal gushing haphazardly from its size as though its very addition had been an afterthought. Demo motioned at Soldier.

“Pass me your keycard, lad.”

“M’what?”

“Keycard.” Demo’s heart sank. “You keep it in your wallet or something, right?”

Soldier stared at the card reader. He stared at long and hard, so long and hard that Demo was starting to wonder if the question had made it through his ear canals at all when he concluded, “I forgot it.”

“You for- Oh for the love of Pete.” Demo took the hand that wasn’t supporting his mate and rubbed it long suffering across his face. “Well that’s great. Bloody great, risk my arse hauling a drunken fart back to his base cause he can’t hold his bloody liquor, and we can’t even get in to the fecking-”

The door hissed, layers of dust shaking loose like with a sci-fi swish as the vacuum seal was opened to the desert night. Demo gawked, watching it shake away grit like it was built into the surface of Mars instead of a dead-end town in the middle of New Mexico, and letting out a wash of air-conditioned oxygen.

When it was partially ajar, it unveiled the BLU Sniper, arms folded and leaning on the inner wall.

“How…what?” Demo asked. Soldier was too busy looking at the beetle again to be perplexed.

“Heard you guys arguing from the roof.” Sniper jerked his thumb upwards. “If you were sneaking ‘round, might want to think about keeping your voice down in the future. Probably could’ve heard you all the way at RED.”

“I wasn’t- We weren’t-”

Sniper waited. When no adequate explanation was forthcoming he said, “you comin’? Cold air’s getting out.”

Demo grimaced, and began the arduous processes of lugging the Soldier inside.

Chill ran up where his t-shirt had sweated to his neck, Soldier fairing no better since they’d spent the past half hour (every moment since Demo had realized Soldier would be going nowhere on his own) with their sides pressed together. He hadn’t realized how exhausted he was until the cold ai) brought the slightest suggestion of relief to his (admittedly also not terribly sober) body.

“If this is going to be a running thing for you two, maybe don’t get so munted next time, yeah?” Sniper offered. It was neither reprimanding nor conversational, like this was a totally normal exchange happening here with a RED in a BLU hallway.

“Who said anything about a ‘running thing’?” Demo demanded. “You didn’t overhear that!”

Sniper raised a brow. “Soldier said you were his new best mate. I assumed that meant you’d both be out and about more than once.”

Demo grit his teeth, the pieces clicking into place. “Did he now.” He leveled his best attempt at a glare from his blindspot at the disoriented Soldier who, unsurprisingly, was more interested in resting his head on Demo’s shoulder than being reprimanded. “Well that’s good to know. Any chance you can point me to his room?”

Sniper took one gloved hand and shoved a thumb over his shoulder.

“Thanks. Cheers.”

“Goodbye Sniper,” Soldier said belatedly, a good three minutes after he’d disappeared around a corner. “Oh hey! My room!”

“Jane, is there anyone you didn’t tell about us?” Demo demanded.

Soldier thought for a moment. “…I didn’t tell any REDs.”

“Jane,” Demo groaned. “This is supposed to be a secret. What if one of them tells the Administrator? You want that? Going to be hard ever meeting up again if we’re both six feet under.”

For the first time, a bit of shame managed to reach the Soldier through the woolen mesh of his inebriated state, and he looked at his shoes. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I just got really excited. Wanted everyone to know I was hanging out with you.”

Demo sighed heavily, not up bullying his friend when he was in such a pathetic sate already. “I know you were. Ach, it’s fine. We’ll talk ‘bout it later.”

Later being sometime after he’d managed to deposit Soldier onto a four-poster, though with the way the night was going it seemed like that moment would never arrive. His outlook wasn’t improved when he opened the door of Soldier’s room and found that not only was it Soldier’s room, but the occupancy of the entire Offense division.

“Whzzat?” Scout said, rolling to his elbow just in time to be bombarded by the hall light. “Ahg, dammit Sol. What the hell man?”

Demo didn’t bother freezing this time, successfully desensitized to literally every BLU on the planet stumbling across his ill-advised trip through the enemy base. Instead, he walked over, dropped Soldier on the bed, and began helping him unlace his boots.

“What the-?” Scout said when he finally lowered his arm. “Oh right. You. Jesus, how ‘bout a little consideration for the sleeping guy?”

“Mmrrhaunna,” came from the bundle in the corner.

“Yeah, what they said.”

“You don’t got the right to be begging consideration from anyone, jackrabbit,” Demo said hotly as he frees the military-grade combat boots from Soldier’s feet. He threw a blanket over the man’s form, who sighed appreciatively and said something about how this would earn Demo a medal. “‘Sides, don’t need to worry about me no more. I just came to drop of your sergeant and get out of here.”

To prove it, he backed out of the room with hands raised. Mission complete. Time to get out of here and bring this mortifying night to an end.

He might have gotten away with it too, if Pyro hadn’t shot straight up and pointed an accusing finger at him. “Mrrhaha! Hudda hah ha hoo.”

Demo reared back slightly from the Pyro who was still very much in their rubber suit, now with added nightcap. Whatever the hell they were saying, they were very impassioned about it. He looked to the Scout for help.

“They want you to tuck them in too,” he said, and the light flooding in from the single open door was good enough to see that he was smirking as he did so.

“Wha- I’m not bloody tucking anyone in,” Demo said hotly.

“Hudda ha. Mrra haa hur ha.”

“You tucked Soldier in,” Scout translated. “Only fair.”

“Gurrhaha.”

“…Otherwise they’ll tattle.”

“I cannae bloody believe this,” Demo groaned, rubbing his face.

Grudgingly, he made his way over the giggling pyrotechnician, absolutely giddy to have gotten their way. Thankfully boots weren’t part of the pajama equation, and Demo had only to tuck in the blanket’s edges ‘round a pair of socked feet and a squirming, suit-clad body. When he tried to leave it at that, a keening noise stopped him, and he was forced to repeat the process for Mayor Balloonicorn. All the while, he could feel the Scout staring smugly at the back of his head.

“D’awww, ain’t that adorable. Going to be hard to be scared of you now, though. Y’know, after you swung by to give us goodnight kisses and all that crap.”

“Just for that, I’m going to have a sticky trap with your name on it, boyo,” Demo pointed an accusing finger in Scout’s direction. He just shrugged.

“But uh,” Scout added, just as Demo was finally about to make his escape. “Glad you turned out to be cool though. He was really gung ho about tonight. Its nice he has good friends besides us.”

Demo cast his gaze to Soldier, who’d fallen fitfully in the short while it’d taken to get Pyro off his back.

“…That’s good. It was a fun time.”

“Oh yeah?” Scout wiggled his eyebrows. “How fun?”

Demo took one of the pillows he’d used to burry Pyro in and flung it at Scout’s face.

“Sticky trap. Your name.”

He could still hear Scout snickering all the way out into the hall.

#demosolly #tf2 fanfiction

[babiemingoo]

fantasy faire || yoon jeonghan

summary: [apart of the seventeen stars to the right series] jeonghan figures babysitting his niece at disneyland can’t be that bad, but it definitely gets better when he finds out you’re the cast member assisting his niece’s favorite princess, cinderella.

genre: fluff, cutie uncle!jeonghan || wc: 2.3k

a/n: yes I did take too long to post this and yes I did go overboard... i’m sorry

I’m definitely the only college kid that has to spend their Saturdays like this, Jeonghan thinks to himself for the second time that month. When he had spent all those nights in high school imagining the crazy parties and wild events he’d attend on his Saturdays in college, there was never any 4 year old niece involved, and definitely no Disneyland either. Yet here he was, his right pointer and middle fingers wrapped tightly around his niece’s hand as she tugs him towards the opening gates of the amusement park. Despite the fact that he did want to go out day drinking with his friends like normal college students did, he also couldn’t complain too much. A free year pass to Disneyland and getting paid just to spend the day with his niece every week? There’s worse things to do on a Saturday.

Still, Jeonghan curses his need for money in the back of his head when a mere 15 seconds after stepping into the park his niece won’t stop begging him to go to the Royal Hall, of all places. “Uncle Hannie pleaseee you told me last time that you’d let me meet Cinderella!” He tries not to groan at the way his niece looks up at him, eyes pleading and much too big for his dwindling resolve.

“Why do you want to go there?! Don’t you want to, like, ride Space Mountain or something?” Jeonghan complains to her as they walk down Main Street, wearing matching Mickey and Minnie Disney ears while weaving through the overwhelming crowds of families and couples.

His niece lets out a whine just as they pass some teenager asking her parents for pictures in front of the castle, “I want to meet Cinderella! She’s my favorite! Uncle Hannie pleaseee!” Her walking halts and she begins to stomp her feet in protest. “You’re such a meanie, you told me last time we came that we would see Cinderella and the time before that and the first time and-”

“Fine!” Jeonghan thought he was first at a lot of things in life, but his niece definitely has him beat in the whining and persistence departments, “We can go see Cinderella at the Royal Hall, but only once today okay? We’re not going over and over again.”

His niece pouts, but doesn’t complain further as she makes her way to the left where the hall was located. Disneyland was always fun - it was Disneyland - but Jeonghan wishes he could enjoy it to it’s full potential rather than being dragged around to visit people in costumes and watching the same shows over and over again.

-----

The boy watches as his niece makes small conversation with the cast member dressed as Ariel. They had to wait in line for 45 minutes to get into the meet and greet and his niece only looks half amused when the princess asks her if she’s met any new fish friends lately. Jeonghan doesn’t say much during their interaction aside from taking a few pictures to show his aunt later and thanking the cast members for their time. 

Almost immediately after Ariel bids her goodbyes, the little girl goes taking off around the corner, calling out a, “Cinderelly Cinderelly!” in excitement. Jeonghan rushes to keep up, and right as he rounds the corner himself he sees his niece happily jumping into the arms of the woman dressed in blue. 

He already knows this is going to take twice as long as Ariel’s meet and greet did; his niece is already spewing off about how she wants her own castle with a mouse named Gus Gus and a carriage shaped like a pumpkin. With a slight puff Jeonghan makes his way to stand next to the cast attendant with Cinderella and for the first time today it’s his heart that goes pumping with excitement.

You stand next to the pillar with a smile watching the interaction between the princess and Jeonghan’s niece. You loved your job of attending to the princesses at the Royal Hall - the way a few magical minutes in someone’s day always makes the tiring hours more than worth it. You beam as Jeonghan’s niece claps her hands while speaking to Cinderella, questioning her on whether or not the King and Queen of the kingdom forced her to eat broccoli, too.

Since starting your job at Disneyland, there were many days where you and your favorite coworker would talk after a shift to discuss the cute guys that would funnel in and out of the parks. Turning to look at the man who came into your area with the little girl, you knew today would be one of those days. “Is she your sister?” You decide to ask, you know, for good measure. He technically looked old enough to have a child around the girl’s age, but you learned the hard way it’s better not to assume.

“Niece,” He answers with a small smile once he settles next to you. Jeonghan lets a few moments pass as he watches his niece happily bounce next to the princess, but in the corner of his eye he’s watching you. You were probably one of the cutest people he’s ever seen - if not the cutest. Knowing he only has a limited amount of time before the family on the other side of the wall moves on to get their meeting with Cinderella, the man attempts to strike up a conversation, “My sister makes me bring her to Disneyland every Saturday.”

“Every Saturday?!” Your eyes get wide, turning to fully face the man, “Did you have to buy an annual pass for that?”

“Nah, they pay for it.” The boy decides to face you completely in response while rubbing his fingers together, “My sister married well.” For a split second he wonders if he should’ve lied and said he did pay for it all himself - to impress you or something.

Your mouth opens to reply, but you’re quickly distracted when you catch the two girls posing for a picture. Despite your desire to talk to the cute guy, you know you’re technically still on the clock, so you cut the conversation in favor of taking pictures of his niece with her favorite princess. Jeonghan decides to do the same and pulls out his phone for pictures, but really, his attention is on you the entire time.

-----

When his niece first begged to meet Cinderella, Jeonghan fully prepared to tell her every week following that they can’t go the Royal Hall for whatever made up reason and somehow convince her to go on a ride instead.

However, with the thought of you, the cute cast member replaying on his mind like a loop, he doesn’t complain for a second when his niece asks to see the princess in blue. In fact, it’s become a habit to head straight to the left whenever they enter the parks. Sometimes Jeonghan even takes his niece through the meet and greet twice if she behaves well (but she doesn’t really have to do anything. He just wants an excuse to see you again).

With their new routine in play, you and Jeonghan become more and more familiar with each other. You learn each other’s names, where the two of you go to school, and even things as in depth as Jeonghan’s love for basketball and the story of how you came to work for Disney. He figures out that your shift ends at 3pm every Saturday and he always seems to make it at least once before you’re off. Coming to Disneyland goes from babysitting his niece to borderline using the little girl as an excuse to talk to you. The bond you two create is simple, and definitely unexpected from your job of working with families and couples more often than not, but it’s special; even magical in a way.

So when Jeonghan’s niece makes a move to go right instead of left one Spring Saturday, Jeonghan nearly gets whiplash, “What are you doing? Don’t you want to go to the Royal Hall?”

To his surprise, the little girl shakes her head and points towards Tomorrowland, “Can we try Space Mountain instead?”

For once in his life, Jeonghan is rendered speechless. His niece never turned down an opportunity to go see her favorite princess. He does nothing but blink at her for a bit, trying to understand her sudden fixation with the opposite end of the park, until he’s pulled back to reality by her tugging on his hand again, “Do you want to see Cinderella later, then?”

Jeonghan’s okay with going on the ride first - as long as they get into the Royal Hall by 3pm. “No,” His niece suddenly answers and the boy can only imagine how high his eyebrows raise, “I don’t really like Cinderella anymore.”

“You what?!” Jeonghan drops down to the girl’s eye level to shake her shoulders dramatically, “What do you mean you don’t like Cinderella?! She’s your favorite!”

“Not anymore, I watched Frozen yesterday and Elsa’s dress is prettier. She’s my favorite now!” He’s sure this could go in a Youtube compilation of Top 10 Anime Betrayals, “I wanna go see Elsa today instead!”

“Screw Elsa!” Jeonghan forgets for a second just where he is, catching a middle aged mom in the corner of his eye covering her daughter’s ears. Clearing his throat and bringing his tone down, he continues, “You like Cinderella, okay? When we get back to your house later tonight we can watch all the Cinderella movies and I’ll even buy you a doll today! But we're not going to see Elsa! We’re seeing Cinderella!”

The small girl, as expected, isn’t very happy with his demands. She begins to stomp and whine like that first day he took her to meet the princess, and although she got the best of him that time, it’s not happening today. “Why can’t we see Elsa?!”

“Because-” Jeonghan pauses to bring his voice down once again, “Cinderella’s friend is really, really cute, okay? And Uncle Hannie really wants to get their phone number. So, we’re going to see Cinderella and later on when Cinderella’s cute friend doesn’t have to work anymore we can go see Elsa, I promise.” With his pinky stretched out, he’s hoping his explanation suffices. His niece was young and maybe she won’t understand just how desperately he wants those two or three minutes with you every week; but it’s worth a shot. 

For a second, she does nothing but stare at his outstretched hand, almost as if she’s weighing her options. Then, with a small smile, she lifts her small hand to meet his and hooks their pinkies together, “Okay.”

-----

Today, Cinderella is placed at the end of the Royal Hall, and Jeonghan’s sure that his niece knows exactly what she’s doing when she nearly flies through the first two princesses with little to no conversation. He decides not to point it out though, and just goes through the routine of taking a picture and thanking the workers.

Jeonghan wonders how the interaction between his niece and Cinderella will go; will she pretend to be interested? Will she tell Cinderella that she’s found a new favorite? Or, worst of all: will she take nearly no time with the princess, and Jeonghan will be forced to talk to you for less than a second before having to leave?

Surprisingly, his niece does none of the three. Without even sparing Cinderella a glance, she immediately marches over to you standing in your usual spot against the pillar and says, “My Uncle thinks you’re cute.”

Silence. Jeonghan, despite being a naturally confident guy, doesn’t know what to do when you look up from his niece with an amused smile. Even Cinderella seems to lose character for a few moments when she slaps her hand over her mouth to conceal her laugh. Before Jeonghan can open his mouth to redeem himself, you look back down at his niece, “Oh? Does he?”

“Yes! I told Uncle Hannie I wanted to meet Elsa today but he made me come here because he said you’re really cute and he wants your phone number,” The girl replies and Jeonghan wonders where kids learn this stuff. “Can you give him your phone number so I can see Elsa now?”

 Jeonghan sighs. This would happen to him. It’s probably karma for using his innocent niece as a way to talk to you. What is he even supposed to say now? Breaking into an awkward smile, he grabs his niece by the shoulder and shrugs, “Uh, kids, right?” Damn kids.

You laugh for a few seconds before lowering down to his niece’s level and grinning at the girl, “Tell your Uncle, that I think he’s really, really cute,” You spare a glance at the man briefly, “And that I’m flattered he’d like to get my phone number. But it’s against the Disneyland rules for me to give it to him.”

Of course it is, he thinks to himself. Leave it to the happiest place on Earth to ruin his chances with you. Jeonghan’s about to nod in understanding and motion for his niece to (very quickly) finish her meet and greet and he can stuff his face with churros for the rest of the day. But before he can make any sort of moves you continue, “However… If you and your Uncle were to see me at the castle around 3:30 after my shift today… I’m sure Mickey wouldn’t mind, right?”

“He wouldn’t!” His niece answers happily before jumping up and down, facing Jeonghan to say, “Can we see Elsa before then?!”

Chuckling (mostly to mask his sigh of relief and excitement), Jeonghan nods and points to Cinderella across the room, “Finish saying hi to Cinderella and I’ll take you to meet Elsa right after this.”

The little girl squeals in happiness before running over to the woman in blue, who he knows is giving him a knowing look. Jeonghan fits into his spot next to you, whispering through a smile, “So… churros at 3:30 then?”

You beam at him, nodding, “It’s a date.”

#caratwritersclub #yoon jeonghan #jeonghan #seventeen #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen fics #seventeen one shot #kpop #kpop fics #seventeen x reader #kpop au #seventeen au #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #jeonghan scenarios #jeonghan imagines

[sokkabeifong]

Can you write some tokka angst 🙏

ofc I can anon and IM SORRY THIS IS SO LATE but better late than never I guess. this is set in modern times because modern times are fun to write for tokka okay? a bit longer than usual but the more angst the better am I right

Toph had promised Sokka that she’d go to the hospital when it happened, so that’s exactly what she’d done. She hadn’t promised that she’d actually get anyone’s attention. Or check in. Or ask for help.

Although… the contractions were getting more insistent, and she doubted the medical staff would leave her alone if she stripped off the stupid maternity pants and just squatted down right there on the lobby floor.

With a heavy sigh, she waddled her way over to the nearest front desk. Spirits, she hadn’t been in a hospital in years. She wasn’t even sure what the different branches and buildings and desks were all for. But there was no way that she was giving birth at home. Katara was in medical school, sure, but she wasn’t done. And Toph wasn’t about to risk her life and her child’s life for a “practice trial.”

Still, there was something unnerving about the hospital, with its stuffy feeling and too-squeaky floor. It feels clean, clean in a way that you can just sense. She didn’t need sight to tell her just how antibacterial this place was.

A pinging, traitorous part of her wishes that someone was here with her, that she didn’t have to do this alone. But it was her own stupid pride that had taken a cab all alone in a Wednesday night, and the only person she truly wanted present was somewhere she could never get him back from. She’d promised him before he died that she would go to the hospital if she felt even the slightest change. He wanted her to be safe, he said.

And now, of course, Sokka was dead and gone while she was here, swollen belly stretching out her sweater and maternity pants. As much of an annoyance as labor would be, getting the thing out of her was going to be a blessing. She’d spent too long unbalanced and vulnerable to attack.

“Can I help you?”

Toph was broken out of her musings by the question from someone sitting at the closest desk. She turned her head to where she hoped the person, a woman by the sound of it, would be.

“I hope so,” she smiled, falling back into a generic cover ID face. “I should probably see a doctor.”

“All right,” said the woman. She heard the clicking of nails on a keyboard, then something sliding across the desk. “Why don’t you take one of these forms, fill it out, and bring it back here?”

“Can’t ,” she said shortly. “I’m blind.”

“No worries.” The woman clicked her pen open like she had blind pregnant ladies come into the ER every day. Who knew - maybe she did. “I’ll ask you the questions and you answer, okay?”

“Okay.” Toph winced as another contraction hit her. At least the protruding baby bump gave her something to lean against. She made sure to breathe in through her nose and out through her mouth as the woman began questioning her, just as Katara had instructed her to do. I’m a few hours, the whole thing would be over and then - she bit her lip and redirected her thoughts.

She wished Sokka was -

She redirected that thought, too.

“Reason for your visit?” the woman asked, yapping the pen against the clipboard.

Toph waited a moment before she turned around yet again, because she was in the middle of another contraction and couldn’t decide whether she’d rather scream or just go ahead and kill the lady.

“My contractions are about eight minutes apart,” she said.

The lady blinked once and then repeated, “They’re eight minutes apart from each other? So you’re in labor. Are you in active labor?”

Toph smiled sweetly. “Are you asking me to stick my fingers down and see whether or not I’m dilated to seven centimeters?”

To the woman's credit, the crudity didn't seem to faze her, and she plowed ahead with, “Ma’am, this is the ER. We’re not equipped for a birth. I’ll call you a wheelchair immediately, and we’ll get you up to Labor and Delivery. Trust me, it’ll be faster than checking in here and waiting for a transfer.”

“Where’s Labor and Delivery?”

“Fourth floor, and I -”

“I’ll just walk over there. It’s fine.”

“Ma’am, I really must insist. You’ve technically checked in—” she waved the yellow paper “—and you’re our responsibility now.”

Toph leaned heavily against the counter and deftly snatched the page out of the woman’s hand. At least her coordination was still functional.

“There. Now I didn’t check in, and I’m my own problem.”

“Ma’am, please. You’re in no condition to go wandering the hospital, whether you take that against your pregnancy or your eyesight. Let me just call someone to wheel you over.”

Luckily for the woman, another contraction rendered her unable to give a snappy retort. She waited for it to pass, quietly, quickly, then faced the lady once more.

“Fine,” she said tightly. “Fine. Fine.”

“Thank you,” the lady said, obviously relieved. Apparently she did not deal with stubborn blind pregnant women on the daily.

By the time she had been put in a wheelchair and taken through the long halls and winding corridors to Labor and Delivery, Toph had managed to calm herself down. Not because the situation was in any way calming, but because she’d stressed her body and mind out enough that she’d fallen into full-blown mission mode.

Which was fine. It’d probably be easier to give birth with that attitude.

“Well, you seem pretty together, Toph,” the nurse gushed as she checked in yet again at the front desk. “We’ll get you back as soon as possible. For now, if you can just take a seat in one of those chairs, and listen for your name.”

Toph let her real self fade into the background, giving over control to the five other women sitting in the waiting room, and promptly closed her eyes. If she was going to be in pain, she might as well rest while she could.

-

The calm blind girl out in the lobby was already a topic of discussion.

It wasn’t completely unheard of for someone to come in alone. Life was weird and sometimes people gave birth without anyone they knew to help them through the experience. But this girl? The calm young girl with ebony in her hair and in her eyes wasn’t any of the typical stories. She was clean and put together. She was calm and young and looked like the kind of person who would have a dozen friends by her side, even if the father of the child was no longer in the picture.

And yet, there she sat. First in the waiting room and then in her hospital room.

Alone.

Moreover, Miss Toph Beifong had claimed on her paperwork that her contractions were now five minutes apart. However, she was sitting too calmly for that. In fact, the nurse had sat with phone in hand and timed out more than ten minutes, and the girl hadn’t moved once. She’d sat there calmly. No wincing, no cursing, no crying.

It wasn’t until the nurse pulled the woman back and got down to take a look that anyone believe the claim at all.

"Shit,” the nurse murmured.

The doctor startled and glanced up to see if Toph had been offended by the curse. Fortunately, the girl seemed more concerned with how many fingers she had, and didn’t seem to have heard.

“What?” the doctormurmured, more quietly.

“Her cervix is nine centimeters,” the nurse answered.

“Shit,” the doctor echoed.

-

By the end of it all, Toph had decided she did not like labor. She’d made that decision before she began crowning, and nothing that followed did anything to change that. While she had experienced worse pain in her life, she had never experienced that kind of pain.

She had once spent four straight hours being absolutely crushed by a girl at the gym and, at the peak of labor, she was pretty sure she’d trade out that experience for her current one.

Nevertheless, she didn’t scream. She screwed up her eyes and doubled her body up and flexed her fingers. Tears leaked from her eyes from the sheer stress of it all. But her lips remained tightly closed. The skin around them grew white from where she bit them between her teeth, and the nurses were afraid she’d draw blood.

One well-intentioned nurse had advised that she just give in and cry out.

Toph had rolled her eyes, widened her legs, and pushed again.

In the end, nature was inevitable. Toph had always had someone to remind her to take good care of her body, so the whole experience was over in a few hours. She collapsed back against the wet bedding. There was sweat and blood and who-knew-what all over her, and she’d probably never feel clean again.

There was screaming in the background, and her eyes finally focused on the small infant being washed by the hospital staff.

Then her view was cut off by the ring of congratulating nurses.

“It’s a beautiful girl. Do you have the name ready for her?”

“Call it Toph, for all I fucking care,” Toph murmured, too quietly for anyone to make out. She turned over on her side, away from the child, and shut her eyes tight.

-

Later that night, after hours of tossing and turning in her sleep, Toph was awoken by the small mewing sound coming from her bedside. She sighed. She’d tried to have the baby whisked away to some far-off nursery where she wouldn’t have to ignore its presence, but apparently the hospital didn’t “do that anymore.”

Spirits, she felt so empty. Tired and empty and drained.

Deciding she could avoid it no further, Toph feels her way to the other side of the bed. The hospital is quiet, and she can’t even guess what time it is. Probably late at night. She waddled over to the bassinet, and the mewing became a full-fledged scream.

She jumped. The baby continued screaming, but less so, as if it hadn’t realized anyone was there. She found herself reaching down, feeling the child, the blankets, so afraid she would drop it or break it or… worse. For a moment she hesitated.

This is your baby, she thinks. You’re allowed to pick it up. It’s yours. And his. You can pick it up.

Her. She could almost hear Sokka’s voice echo through the room, reminding her that their child wasn’t an it. The thought made her smile.

Slowly, carefully, as though her life depended on it, Toph lowered her arms around the tiny, tiny baby and lifted her up. The baby stopped bawling and snuggled against her mother’s chest.

“Hello,” she said stupidly, like the kid could respond. But her mouth kept moving. “Um. Uh, my name’s Toph. I’m your - Spirits, I guess I’m your mom now, huh?”

The baby gurgled, her lips curled like she might cry again. Toph hurried to keep talking.

“Oh, God, um. What else, what else… uh, you have a bunch of aunts and uncles,” she said. “They’re all gonna help raise you. They’re annoying sometimes, but they mean well. You’re our first baby, you know.”

Our. The word made Toph close her eyes for a second. Try as she might, there would be no more “our.” There was only “she.” The “our” in her partnership was long gone. How was she supposed to tell her child that?

She decided to start with the basics.

“Your daddy was so brave,” she whispered. It hurt to talk about Sokka in the past tense, but she kept going. “He was so, so strong and brave and I just know he would have loved to meet you. He already loved you, you know. He wanted to meet you so bad, kid. He just never got the chance.”

The baby blinked, her eyelids heavy like hearing about the father she would never meet was too much for one night. Toph wholeheartedly agreed and set her down in the bassinet once more, making sure she was secure before plodding back to her own bed and face-planting on the blankets.

The nurse had told her the baby’s eyes were blue. She let that thought sink into her heart before drifting off to sleep.

#atla #tokka #avatar the last airbender #sokka #toph #toph beifong

[thiswasinevitableid]

for mermay, 24 indruck nsfw?

Here you go! 24 was Lighthouse, and I made it a continuation of this space mermay fill. NOTE: this fill contains oviposition.

Communication Log between Lieutenant of the Amnesty and Chief Astrobotantist Duck Newton.

Joseph: Storm is forecasted to last four days at least. We won’t be able to land on Atlantia to pick you up until it passes.

Duck: Roger that. We should be fine here; ‘Drid says the storms are dangerous for spacecrafts and travel but not for buildings. I’ll keep testing the specimens we found in the meantime.

Joseph: if it gets too dangerous, let us know and we’ll try to get an emergency retrieval ship to you.

Duck: Will do. Duck out.

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

Atlantia, one of the four moons of the planet Oceana, is off limits to most. It’s home to precious minerals that the residents of the moon Aquaria have been known to go to war over, fighting to see who controls the territory in which the substance resides. To avoid these conflicts, the whole moon was declared a public resource, and all but the native Atlantians must acquire elaborate permits to visit. Outsiders are practically forbidden.

Unless said outsider is married to one of the most valuable individuals in the whole lunar system and said individual is suddenly very willing to throw his weight around for the sake of his beloved’s research.

Indrid’s negotiations were only able to secure permission for him and Duck, not the rest of the Amnesty, and so Duck spent the better part of two weeks scouring the plant life and trying to discern if the mineral make-up of the soil produced plants more likely to contain the curative properties he’s searching for. When the storm picked up, rendering the surface of the moon unsafe, Indrid apologized profusely for not foreseeing the change in the futures. Duck pointed out that it was sudden enough that the two of them had already arrived at the pick-up spot before the storm turned violent.

Of places to be sheltering during a storm, an Oceanic Beacon is at once an excellent and terrifying choice. It’s a combination of a lighthouse and landing strip, alerting travelers to the presence of land and the location to dock their craft. Because light from the beacon has to reach a massive distance into the sky and across the waves, the building lives beneath a dome of specially engineered, see-through glass. A storm has never so much as cracked one. But it means that Duck has a perfect view of the gigantic waves washing over them which, while awe-inspiring, makes his lizard brain certain he’s about to drown.

So he spends most of his time in the terrestrial rooms researching to keep his mind off the weather. Except for when Indrid swims up from the heavily fortified subaquatic portion of the lighthouse to visit him. Then he devotes every last bit of his energy to his husband. Most of the Aquariads he meets are shocked to discover he’s not only happy to be married to the eerie, formidable seer, but that he actively misses him when he’s out on his missions.

“The others are not too worried I hope?” Indrid swims to him as he comes down the stairs from the communication pad.

“Nope.” Duck pulls off the top of his uniform, “once you knew we had food to last over a month if we had to, I got a hell of a lot calmer too.” He drops into the pool, water carrying a hint of heat, as Indrid curls the celestial expanse of his tail around his waist. Duck is a strong swimmer, but Indrid’s ability to carry him to and fro without getting so much as winded makes him want to feign helplessness and spend his days in those undulating scales.

“In that case, sweet one, care to join me for a swim before dinner?”

Duck smiles, “You know it, sugar” and draws the alien in for a kiss as the lights of the beacon make gemstones of the salt spray on the glass.

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

Two days down, two to go, and Indrid wishes he could enjoy their little impromptu second honeymoon to it’s fullest (he’d taken Duck on a proper one his first visit back after joining the others on their expedition). His body has other plans; it seems to have caught on to the fact his partner keeps coming and going, and that if he wishes to have offspring with said partner, he needs to be ready (never mind that he and Duck cannot have offspring through any sort of biological means). So when Duck’s scent fills his nose and his laugh floods his ears, his body decides to fill his ovipositor.

Thus, he’s spent the last three days increasingly uncomfortable, the weight noticeable in his abdomen. His initial plan was to excuse himself early in the evening when they got home and masturbate until they were all released. But the beacon, while spacious, has very few rooms closed off, and the water is so clear that there are a high number of futures in which Duck catches him in the act.

Which is why, as the human sleeps a very safe distance from the edge of the pool (“‘Drid, if I fall in the worse that’ll happen is I get a hell of a wake up call” “yes but I cannot bear even the slightest risk of you drowning”), Indrid is squirming in an attempt to get comfortable. He doesn’t even realize he’s chirping in frustration until Duck murmurs his name.

“It, it is nothing sweet one, go back to sleep.”

“Darlin, your spots are goin’ green.” Duck indicates the flickers of sickly chartreuse in the water, “you feelin sick?”

“No. Or, ah, not in the sense you are thinkingoh, ohhh” he sighs, rubbing his face against Duck’s palm as the human gauges whether he’s feverish, “but I am achy and restless.”

“And hot, christ ‘Drid, there are med supplies here right? I mean, I got some in my bag, but they’re for humans-”

“I am not sick. It’s this” He rolls onto his back so Duck can see his cock straining to emerge.

“Sugar, you know you can ask for help with that any time.” Duck’s smile is sweet sin.

“No, it’s” Indrid whines as the tip emerges, the bulge of the first egg painfully obvious.

“Oh. Huh. Kinda figured you weren’t due for that again for a year or so. Not sure why; guess I just assumed Aquariads had a matin season.”

“Unfortunately it can happen quite often. If, if you do not mind, I will excuse myself and deal with it. It’s to the point where the eggs need to come out sooner rather than later.”

“Sure. Or, uh, if you want, I could, uh, help you out?”

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

The widening of Indrid’s eyes and the shock of orange that travels up his tail and fin suggests Duck has just done something remarkable.

“Surprise you, sugar?” He tucks a strand of silver hair the behind the aliens fanned out ear.

“Yes. There, there were no futures where you offered, why in the name of the deep did you?” His colors have turned nervous, but Duck spots occasional bursts of desire.

“Because” He sits up, patting his lap so his husband will rest his head in it and let Duck rub the knots in his neck, “you’re my ‘Drid; I wanna help you out, make you feel good too. And uh, I gotta admit, I been a little curious about it. Plus that holo-porn compendium you sent me while I was gone time before involved it a lot and it seems like it could be fun.”

“So you did watch it” Indrid looks up, grinning.

“Course I did. Gotta learn how to please my Aquariad husband.” He teases, kissing Indrid’s forehead.

“You need no help in that area whatsoever. I could not ask for a finer husband, human or otherwise.” Indrid kisses Duck’s belly through his thin shirt, then pauses, “you are not offering this out of a feeling of obligation, right?”

“Right. I want to do this with you, ‘Drid. Cross my heart.”

Red eyes skate up to his face, “In that case, disrobe and get in the water at once.”

Duck sinks into the clear depths the instant he’s naked, Indrid swimming back only long enough for him to get in before crowding him against the edge of the pool.

“My love.” Indrid purrs, kisses so languid and gentle they almost disguise the heat in his fingertips as gropes Duck’s ass, the force with which his tail forces his legs apart.

“You know itAHhh, fuck, fuckin love that” he groans as the tendriled tip of his cock teases Duck’s own, “so, uh, this gonna be that different from the way we normally do this?”

“For starters, I will not cum until all the eggs are deposited.” Indrid’s fin flickers pink, “and it will be more intense on your end, not only because of the stretch but because I have to be rather, ah, vigorous in order to make sure they all come out.”

“As opposed to all those times you don’t fuck me like there’s no tomorrow.” Duck snickers, wrapping his legs around the dark scales to help ease Indrid’s cock into him.

“It’s not my fault you are the most delectable, ah, ‘piece of ass’ I have ever seen. Did I use that correctly?”

“Yep” Duck tips his head back, allowing Indrid to kiss it as he pauses his thrust so his tendrils can stroke his G-spot before continuing deeper, “you been watchin earth porn for ideas?”

“Indeed. I also found some featuring an actor who looks rather like you, and watched it an embarrassing amount during your absences.” He chirps as he bottoms out and Duck toys with the sensitive band in his fin as Indrid positions them so the bottom half of his tail is flat against the wall, which lets him keep Duck pinned to it.

“You are going to squirm, and I do not want you doing so and coming off my cock.”

“Seem mighty confident you’re gonna get that reaction.” Duck nips his ear.

Indrid’s sharp-toothed grin takes on a hungry glint, “The futures tell me so. But since you seem to doubt them…”

“AhFUCK!” Duck’s back bangs into the wall as Indrid pulls halfway out and then drives back into him, “fuckyeah, sugar that feels so fuckin goodOHwhatthefuck” the bumps in Indrid’s cock are moving, the ones towards the base of the shaft grinding on Duck’s dick as they do.

“Nmmmm, I told you I was pent up, oh, oh yes, yes sweet one, get ready to take the firstAHhhnnn.”

“Jesusfuck” Duck bucks his hips as the first egg pushes into him. It’s not hard like a birds egg, more soft and squishy, but all the same his body convulses as it registers something inside him. His brain, however, sends a moan from his mouth because as alien as the sensation may be, the fact it’s Indrid doing it makes him wetter and harder than he’s been in weeks.

Better still is the look on Indrid’s face, his head tipped back in bliss as he fucks him. It’s only when he looks down that Duck sees the tears threatening his eyes.

“You, I, I’ve, you are letting me lay in you, letting me mate with you, no, no one has ever let me do this before.”

The heat spiking through him on the word mate changes to fierce affection at the thought that Indrid was denied such closeness, or any closeness, for so long.

“Oh darlin, c’mere” he guides the alien into a kiss, then moans as another egg presses into him. Indrid swallows the sound down, keeps Duck in the kiss until the pressure has subsided.

“Such a lovely little mate.”

“Do my best.”

Indrid rubs their cheeks together, “That is why this has been so frequent, you know. I am so very enamored with you that the primal parts of my system want nothing more than to fill you with my eggs, keep you here pampered and fucked out until we have a whole little school swimming about the house. I, ahhhn, I could even look after them on my own while you are away. Or, or if we decide that is not for us I want to lay in you every day so no one else will ever dare to think you could be theirs.”

“Not a fuckin chance, fuck, darlin” his thighs tighten around his tail as another egg pulses out of the tip, “it’s so fuckin hot when you talk like that.”

“Really? I was afraid I was babbling. OhOHohdear, ah, this is unexpected.”

“Uh-”

“Not in a bad way, but I am so aroused the eggs are going to start coming out more quickly. Which means, my darling husband, I suggest you hold on.”

“Way ahead of youUUUshit, fuck” his hands switch from gripping Indrid’s shoulders to thrown around them for dear life as Indrid bounces him roughly on his dick. There’s not pause between the fourth and fifth egg and he’s starting to feel full, squirms when the sixth egg almost pushes Indrid’s cock free.

“I, I told you so.” Indrid purrs, hands holding tight to Duck’s ass as another egg emerges, “but you are not going anywhere, little human. You are, nnng, staying right here, taking every last one of them, because you are my mate and if I want you full to burst you will be.”

“Holy fuck, ‘Drid” Duck buries his face in his husbands neck as his cock shifts backwards. The tip opens wider, covering all of Duck’s folds as the tendrils return to his dick, “fuck, fuck, sugar I’m gonna cum.”

“Yesss” Indrid growls, tail rippling as he forces the next egg into place, “that’s it, sweet one, cum for me, cum while I stuff you full, my perfect, perfect, wonderful one.”

Duck can’t even get words out as his orgasm races through him, muscles spasming in new ways around the eggs. He whines as Indrid continues bouncing him, eggs shifting and keeping his muscles from relaxing, tendrils keeping a rapid tempo on his dick.

“Oh, ohohohoh I am close, ohyes, Duck, my sweet Duck, you take me so well, take a little more, be a good mate and take the last one, take my cum, you are going to hold all of it until I am satisfied that you are mine AH, ahhhhyes” he trills and Duck grunts as he’s stretched wider by the last egg and flood of cum. Indrid clings to him, chirping and trilling as his tail twitches, until his cock retracts. Then it’s just the storm and the sound of their joint panting as Indrid swims them weakly backwards to a shallow section of the pool.

“Here” the alien guides Duck to recline half out of the water, “if you spread your legs and relax, most of them will fall out on their own.”

“Gotcha.” Duck can neither keep his eyes open nor stay upright, so Indrid adjusts so the human is resting atop him, back against his chest. One by one, the eggs slip out dissolving in the water after a few moments. The last two prove stubborn and Indrid massages his abdomen, cooing about how wonderfully he did, until they too slip away.

“Thank you.” Indrid murmurs, nestling his chin on his shoulder.

“Any time, darlin. Or, uh, maybe not too many times back to back. Not sure my junk can take it. Still, better we did that than tryin it up my ass. Woulda lead to some awkward med records and my crew never lettin me live it down.”

“Do not be so sure. I suspect Joseph would have been envious.”

Duck snorts a laugh, looking over his shoulder in surprise.

“I read his sexual preferences on those forms they made you each submit.” Then he smiles like a sunrise welcoming Duck home, “but I think I made the right choice, don’t you?”

“Yeah, sugar, I do.”

#indruck #indrid cold/Duck Newton #mermay #mermay fills #terato #exophilia