#we love churning out content just to try and feel something lol

[sherifftillman]

busy streets and busy lives • ralph penbury x reader

A strange day at work gets even stranger when you meet a man who claims he's from 1926. With no certainty as to when he can get back, you decide to take him in until that time arrives.

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Tags: Timewasters (series), modern!au, slow burn, mutual pining, idiots in love™, fluff, some angst, swearing and mentions of adult themes throughout, eventual adult content, alcohol content, drug content, penbury is a fanon surname

Word count: 8.9k

A/N: Holy shit, look at this! One month to finish one chapter, and then I churn out another in 5 days. Who am I?!

Seriously, your response to last chapter blew me away. That's what got me writing so quick. That, and I can't bear our Ralphie being sad, lol. This is a very Ralph-centric chapter, so I hope you enjoy! <3

Also, this chapter introduces what may be my most favourite character yet. I can't wait to write more of her.

Set your alarm to a sound you like, they said. You’ll wake up in a better mood, they said. Guaranteed good start to the day, they said. You don’t even remember putting your phone on charge last night. You remember getting out of the taxi. You remember opening the door. You remember going up the stairs. You remember face-planting into the bed. But you don’t even remember getting your phone back out from where you’d put it.

Something doesn’t feel right about the bed, though. You roll over and notice there’s no other weight pressing down on the mattress. Turning yourself fully, you see that Ralph’s not in the bed with you. Neither are his pillows. His phone is charging on his nightstand, but he’s nowhere to be seen.

Until you see some movement out of the corner of your eye, and look down to see him asleep on the floor. He’s brought his pillows down with him, but he’s only got his coat to cover him. Leaning across the mattress, you reach down over the side of it to prod him. “Hey. Ralph. C’mon, get into bed.” He grunts, shaking his head around until his face is buried into the pillow. You tut and groan, “Fuck’s sake, I’m taking a shower and then going downstairs, so just… Stop being so bloody awkward and get some decent sleep, at least.”

Holding your head as you shake it, you clamber out of the bed and trundle your way into the bathroom. Poking at the remnants of last night’s face, you try and save as much of your skin’s condition as you can by taking a wipe to it before you get into the shower.

The shower takes far longer than usual, as if you’re not already running behind on your own schedule. As you watch the water run down your limbs, words echo in your head. Having you at my ankles 24/7 is fucking exhausting. Tell me the truth already, it’ll hurt less. For fuck’s sake, Ralph, I don’t want you gone! I’m just a -thing now. Tipping your head up, you let every stream of water punch you in the face, cleansing you of all the negativity that last night had left on you. 

Once you’re finally washed, dried and dressed, you don’t even bother checking if Ralph got into the bed before you go back downstairs. The friends that are awake so far greet you gingerly, and you groan, your face wincing. “Do you guys -”

“We’ve already agreed that we’re Switzerland here,” Connor interjects. “We don’t know your side. We barely know Ralph’s, he was a wreck.” You let out another small groan. “And it’s obviously very fresh so we won’t pry,” he holds his hands up.

“But, we are still here for the both of you, however you need us,” Scott nods.

You nod back, “’Preciate it, thanks. I was actually gonna ask if - I’ll happily take back anyone’s bags, to make room, but I was wondering if… Any of you had space, if you could… Take him home for me, I’d be super grateful.”

“He can come back with us,” Anna looks over at Scott and his partner, who both nod back.

“We’ll take care of him. Take the time you need,” Scott comforts you with a warm hug across the shoulders.

Once you hear one more person coming down the stairs, you feel your insides turn to lead in seconds. Grabbing some toast, you sneak your way through the ground floor rooms so that you can get back to the stairs without having to face him again.

Quickly filtering through the clothes in Ralph’s - your suitcase that he’s using, you can tell he’s gotten dressed for the day, so collecting his remainders and packing them, as well as your own, you get to loading up your car. Anna and the boys helpfully take their bags out, too, offering hugs and words of sympathy and gratitude.

“Ralph mentioned something about wanting to go somewhere before we leave, so we’ll probably be a bit late back, okay?” Anna tells you. “You gonna be alright?”

You nod, “I think it’ll do me good to have some me time.”

“I do, too. Just don’t get too angry and do something stupid, ’kay?” Anna makes you promise and gives you one final hug before you head out onto the road.

As you set your phone up to start playing music for the drive home, you notice the notifications on your lock screen:

Missed call (12)

Voicemail (9)

With a heavy sigh, you leave them on the screen, at least until you get to a service station. After filling the car up, getting some snacks and a drink for the journey, and getting back on the road, you finally bite the bullet and start playing the voicemails through your car’s speaker:

“How dare you run out on me?! You didn’t even give me a fighting chance to truly say my piece, I thought that very unfair of you. Need I remind you that all of this is extremely new to me, not to mention completely terrifying?! Life as I know it is gone, and I don’t know when I can go back. How can you not see that from my point of view?!”

“I was only looking out for you, you know. It wasn’t proper, the way he was around you. You didn’t see the way he was looking at you, like you were a piece of meat, it was vulgar. And especially while you were under the influence of alcohol, how advantageous for him! What with you being so far from home, I was simply intervening to make sure you were safe!”

“And what on earth made you think that I see you as a replacement for my own mother?! For one thing, Mother never even did any of her own cooking or cleaning. I thought you were a friend. Friends don’t leave their friends stranded in loud places that they don’t know, half a hundred miles away from another place they don’t even know anymore!”

“Don’t you even worry yourself any further. As soon as we get back to London, I’m making it priority number one to go and find that old man and demanding he take me back to my own time again. I don’t care that he told you that it was random, I’ll sleep under the bridge with him for however long is needed if that’s what it takes to get me back to my home. That’s what you want, and so that’s what I’ll do. If I’m going to be an unwanted presence, I may as well do it in a time and a place that I know, where I have enough money to my name that people will at least pretend to like me without ever telling me they don’t!”

“I’ve made a terrible mistake here. I was getting upset and so I went outside for some fresh air, and then I wanted to go home too, but I can’t do that without money and so I started walking in the direction that I thought was the sea, but now I fear I’ve gone too far. I’m going to turn back. I hope I haven’t accidentally made any turns that I’ve forgotten about. Oh, what a fool I am. Stupid, stupid, stupid Ralph. Why am I even on the phone, it’s not like you can help me now. Or that you’d want to.”

“I’ve given up on walking now, I’m just sitting on the edge of the path. People keep dropping coins next to me. Perhaps those can be a consolation fee to you. Or perhaps this is how I earn my keep after all. Everybody pity poor, pathetic Ralph. Not enough to stop his father going through his staff as if our home doubled as a brothel, not enough to save his mother from the heartbreak of Father’s death. Not enough for Victoria to ever even consider me more than the social title we both held together being who we are. Not even enough to keep the only person who ever cared about me to stay.”

“Oh blast, what have I done? I don’t want to lose you. I - Just because I had promised myself that I wouldn’t repea- Gah, don’t do it, Ralph, this isn’t the proper way, stupid -”

“I realise that last message left quite abruptly. Connor found me and took me back to the bar and now we’re waiting for a taxi but I went to the toilet first. And I felt that feeling again when you look at yourself in the mirror and suddenly everything feels all wobbly. And I think I’ve said some very bad things that I can’t remember. But I do know I’m still mad at you, as well. I didn’t want to say any of those things, but you can’t deny you’re not responsible for this fight, too. I hope you’re sleeping well.”

“We are home now. Well, not home home but we are back at the house. I went up to the bedroom but you were already in the middle of the bed, fast asleep. I shan’t wake you, and I suppose I should learn my place at some point. I took the liberty of taking your phone out and putting the charger into it. I couldn’t tell you why I’m still leaving you these messages, I suppose I just… I’m upset with you, but also I want to talk to you, because you know better than anyone how to make me happier again. And I want to talk about all of this, but also I don’t know if that is such a good idea or it’ll just keep dragging this out. But won’t it be worse if we never do? Mother and Father never talked their problems out - not that we’re - oh, I give up.”

You’re not sure how you feel. You want to cry. You want to scream. You want to shake Ralph by his shoulders, but you also want to hug him tightly and let that citrusy scent of his envelop you.

He’s right, though. You want to talk to him, but you also don’t. Because you know that the things you want to say, the things you could say to the Ralph you envision in your head, the real Ralph wouldn’t reply in the same way. He’d probably get defensive and you wouldn’t actually get anywhere because he’d get stubborn and you’d get upset. Or maybe he would hear you out. Maybe you’re just villainising him at the moment because of how fresh the wounds of last night are.

Even so, even if you do start to address every elephant in the room, how far do you allow that to unravel? Do you tell him the truth, that if you don’t spite him for his actions, you’ll only keep forgiving them if only because you can’t bear to think of life without him? Do you stand there and beg for him to never leave the 21st century, consequences be damned? Do you honestly believe your life is some kind of late-2000s rom-com movie?

The closer you get back to London, the more you dwell on certain parts of certain messages. Especially the part about Ralph deciding he’ll live the rest of his days in this era with Homeless Pete. Was he serious about that? You have most of his possessions either with you or back at the flat, but would he come back for them? Would there even be a point? No, you can’t imagine Ralph would last more than twenty minutes out there roughing it. 

But what if he doesn’t come back to you? What if one of your friends agrees to take him in, instead? You’re sure that your relationship with them wouldn’t change in the slightest, but you’re not certain that he would remain neutral. Would he feel too uncomfortable around you? Would there be a home amongst your friends’ that you would no longer be welcome in?

Maybe he is out of your life for good after this. Maybe he is just going to find somewhere else to live until the time machine lift fixes. Maybe going cold turkey is what you need. You were getting too ahead of yourself. And besides, even in a scenario where he really does have no choice but to return, it’s only a matter of time before all of this piles up again, and then you’re right back here. Is it worth putting yourself through this much turmoil time and again for something so fruitless?

But that insinuates that you’ve only ever been helping Ralph for your own ulterior motives. Ralph didn’t come to you seeking anything other than - well, he wasn’t seeking anything out, the poor guy just ended up here. But you happened to find him. And you took him in and gave him the roof over his head that he needed. You kept him fed and comfortable, is that not just something you’d do out of the kindness of your own heart? Is it really fair to turf him out because you can’t keep your feelings in check? Or is it fairer to cut him loose, and let him forge his own path with whomever he wants to, not just the first person he meets?

As you pull into the familiar busy streets of Croydon, you wonder just how far back Anna and the others are. Her last update, and Connor’s, all came at similar times, but where Connor was informing you all that he, Grace and her boyfriend were halfway there, Anna was texting to say they were just leaving Brighton.

Parking your car in its spot, you look up through your windscreen at the towering block of flats, resting your chin against your steering wheel. You know that everything’s just going to remind you of him in there, too. But where else could you go?

~~~

After one final trip to the beachfront, Ralph knew it was time to face the music. No hiding behind false smiles and fake words. Although, maybe he had ruined the chance at fixing things with words, even if they were true. Perhaps you’ll be truly sick of him. The way everyone always is.

Of course, nobody likes a self-pitiful fool. You’d made that abundantly clear last night. But what else is Ralph to do? It’s not wrong. He’s always been second fiddle. Never picked in classes, never favoured by his peers, never favoured by his parents, even the help were always far more charmed by Victoria than they were by him. And Ralph never understood why, he always tried to emulate his sister in every way, but that just wasn’t right, for some reason.

In the car, Anna suggests playing some songs that’ll make Ralph feel better. He agrees, and it does lift his spirits as he hears the familiar voice of his now-favourite singer, but the lyrics bring his mood straight back down again. He frowns, “I thought you said these songs would cheer me up.”

“I said they’d make you feel better,” Anna corrects. “Sometimes when you’re feeling sad, it’s better to just… I dunno, let someone else talk about how you’re feeling. Makes you feel less alone in it all. It’s cathartic.”

And so Ralph spends most of the car journey back in relative silence, forehead pressed against the cool glass of the car window as he argues with himself. What the devil is he supposed to do now?

Yes, he may have told you in the heat of the moment that he'd rather live with that awful man, and yes, in theory that does sound like the perfect solution - it gives you the closure from Ralph that you apparently want, as well as giving him direct access to the only person who can help… put him back. Those words pierce him, etching deeper into his brain every time he thinks them.

But, in reality? Ralph tries to remember the area that you’d taken him to when you’d first talked to that homeless man about how he’d ended up here. He remembers dirty people, dirty mattresses with little to no springs. No place for a Penbury, that’s for sure. Though is Ralph even one at this point?

What does he expect to happen when he goes back in time, back to Penbury House? You’d always encouraged him to tell Victoria to “shove it”, but how well would that be taken? Surely she’d just tell him the same thing and turf him out? She’d have more reason to, it’s been her place of residence and she’d surely have the other four on her side.

And did he want to win Lauren back? DId he want to come back with a bravado that she’d find attractive? Did he really want her to find him attractive anymore? Yes, he’d been drawn to her from the moment he’d laid eyes on her, but she certainly made her intentions with him - or lack thereof - very well-known. Ralph looks in the mirror at Scott and his partner in the back seat, both chatting away as they hold hands. Lauren would never love Ralph like that. 

Scott’s reflection catches Ralph’s eye and raises his eyebrows in slight concern. Ralph simply nods with a small smile. He looks over at Anna, who’s singing along with the song that’s currently playing. She notices his gaze and briefly meets it, gesturing encouragingly as her singing becomes more deliberate. Though Ralph has yet to master lyrics to the songs he now likes, his smile does grow a little bigger as he moves his head from side to side in rhythm with the song. Anna, in turn, beams back at him before focusing on the road once again.

This is the sort of love Ralph always dreamt of having someday. Of course, there’s still more that he’d love to have. He’d love someone to wake up to every morning, to embrace and to kiss and to devote every waking moment to. Oh blast, this is his internal monologue, he can say it; he’d love to wake up to you every morning, to embrace you and to kiss you and to devote every waking moment to you. 

But this sort of love is just as important. Friends who check up on him, and who cheer him up. He’ll miss that once he’s back in his own era. Not that he’d be able to keep it up for much longer if he were to stick around. Your friends are loyal creatures, and you’ve known them for far longer. It would only hurt anyway if he were to stay and they were to pick you.

Though, who’s to say that they would? The words you’d told him days ago echo in his mind. If Ralph wants to be their friend, he has to believe that they want to be his friend, too. And they’ve only ever made him feel like he was part of the group, from the day they met him. Perhaps they’d be willing to remain in contact with Ralph even if you didn’t want to. But wouldn’t that split the group up? Or has Ralph been underestimating you, as a part of the friend group as well, and perhaps you would still remain friends with him after all of this. But could he face you after the things that were said?

And how would he explain himself? You’ve obviously got it in your head that Ralph only intervenes because he wants attention. Does he explain that he wants so much more than that? That he wants a whole life with you? What would be the point in disclosing that now, when obviously Ralph’s destiny would doom any sort of relationship between you. If he knew how long he had, perhaps he could simply keep those thoughts where they already remain, in his imagination. For the sake of the group, and for the sake of just getting to spend as much time around you as possible.

Is that self-destructive of Ralph? Maybe. But if he’s on borrowed time, what’s the use in wasting it? Doesn’t he deserve these fleeting moments of happiness, too? Even if he knows they’ll only end in disaster for him, it’s not as though he’s got a lot going for him, anyway

Before Ralph knows it, he’s starting to recognise certain streets. And then Anna’s stopping outside your block of flats. Ralph gets out, with gracious nods of thanks and grateful smiles to everyone in the car, and waves them off as they drive away. He looks up to the ninth floor windows, eyes squinting with the brightly lit clouds that overcast the late November sky.

Ralph takes a deep breath, in through the nose and out through the mouth. He squares his shoulders up. His eyes still trained on the window he knows is yours, he once again inhales deeply, holds it for a second… And promptly turns on his heel and power-walks down the street.

He’s not sure where he’s going, wherever his legs take him, he supposes. He rounds a corner and is suddenly met by a very familiar face. “Ah! Mister… P-Peter, wasn’t it?” The man grunts and waves his hand from side to side. “You’re the one that brought me here, aren’t you?” The man studies Ralph’s face intently for a moment and then realisation dawns. He clicks his fingers as his eyes widen and he nods, and then before he can react, Homeless Pete grabs Ralph by the arm and leads him back to the building Ralph first emerged from almost 3 months ago.

Ralph looks through the open doors, to the carpeted floors that look unchanged from when he last walked them. The lift doors stare back at him ominously. “Are - are you bringing me here because… Is it time?” Despite the inevitability of this moment, a tidal wave of sadness crashes over Ralph. This is it. The man shrugs and nods. 

Ralph looks at him with sorrowful eyes, “Do you think I have time to say my goodbyes, at least?” Another shrug and a wrinkle of the nose bridge. Ralph is perplexed. “Well, how long have I got?” A shrug, a gesture to himself, a gesture to the lift. Until Mr Peter goes in himself, Ralph deduces. 

He ponders for a moment. “Do you - what would happen, would you say, if I were to… To not go back? Would it affect… You know?” Ralph gesticulates wildly around himself. With a fleeting amused smile, Homeless Pete shakes his head. He gestures to himself, then out to the left. Back to himself, and then out to the right. Another shrug. 

As Ralph’s trying to figure it out, Pete then taps his arm, holds up 4 fingers and looks at Ralph expectantly. He then points to the ground, and holds up the four fingers again. “Oh! Do you mean the four that travelled to us? L-Lauren and the rest?” The name still catches in his throat. Pete nods. He looks all around, in all directions. He shrugs at Ralph. “Do you think life is no different with them staying where they are?” Pete shakes his head.

Ralph could practically feel his brain doing somersaults trying to understand it all. So, perhaps there is a chance for him to stay, after all? But how on earth would that be feasible? He can't do anything that requires legal documentation - he could never get a job, or buy a house, or see a doctor, or travel the world, or get married. What if he became horrifically unwell? Which is the worse fate, to die a slow and physically painful death amongst friends, or a slow and emotionally painful death from a broken heart, all alone?

Even that rides upon the illusion that you and your friends would remain with Ralph until the end of his days. What if you never take him back? What if you do, but the cycle repeats itself until you leave him hung out to dry? While his lady friends are all good company, none of those are exactly chomping at the bit to talk to him. He’s usually the one that starts conversations with them. How could he expect any of them to put him up forevermore? He’d have to disclose the true nature of his existence to them eventually, and what if they took it poorly?

“Could I… Have some time to mull this over, please?” Ralph eventually asks. A grunt. Four fingers up. A point to the ground. “You would like to reconvene at 4pm?” A nod. “Very well, I shall return by 4pm promptly.”

Ralph turns away and starts walking in whatever direction he’s stopped at. He keeps walking, hoping to outrun the swarm of conflicting thoughts trying to consume his head, until he hits the high street. At the end of it, another familiar building. Far older than the rest. With a big black sign hanging off of the side wall that has a big white W on it.

Ralph approaches the bookstore as though his legs are moving him there automatically, completely independently from his own volition. He stops himself as he gets close, though - letting someone pass breaks him out of his trance. Watching so many people going in and out of his front door. He recognises a dark plaque by the side of it - it’s much too far away for Ralph to read it, but he doesn’t need to. He knows what it says by heart. Penbury House, est. 1898. It was a wedding present from Ralph’s maternal grandparents so that his parents may start a family. Oh, how his mother’s family loved that she were married to Lord Penbury. She was no lowly peasant herself, of course, but a Lord, no less!

Ralph always resented inheriting that title. It made him just like his father. And it was his father’s penchant for… Whatever he was doing with that young woman, that led to his untimely demise. A real stain on the Penbury name. If not for the twins turning their reputation around to being total carefree socialites, with free rein of a mansion, complete with the family wealth, and no parental guidance, they surely would have had no leg to stand on.

Taking another deep breath, Ralph marches past the old oak doors and into what was once his hallway. Cash registers adorn the hallway, along with a Customer Service desk right up at the front. Ralph approaches it and asks meekly, “Excuse me, do you know much of the history of this building?”

“Uhh, I know some super rich family owned it until the daughter blew all their money and it was repo’ed. Someone made it into a bookstore and then, big capitalism over here,” they gesture wildly with their arms, “Waterstone’s bought it out. As far as I know, they obviously didn’t keep any of the furniture but all of the walls and floors and that are restored as best they can be.”

Of course Victoria wasted all their family’s fortune away. With the help of those four, no doubt. Ralph wonders whether that means he really is needed back in his own era. To keep her from ruining the Penbury name. With a small nod of thanks to the staff member, he slowly starts to walk around the hallowed halls.

The dining area, filled with aisles of jigsaw puzzles and card games, like the ones he was playing with your friends over the past week. What a strangely apt crossover of Ralph’s two worlds, he thinks to himself. In the next room, there are craft supplies and children’s games all around it. Children run laps around their parents. What a strange sight to behold in a kitchen, though now it looks as though there was never a stove in it. The living area is absolutely chock-full of books. Piles and piles. “Best Selling”. “New In Stock”. “Booktok Finds”, whatever that means. There’s a couple on a book cover in a display titled “Modern Romance” who look a lot like a cartoon version of Scott and his partner. If he could, Ralph would have liked to buy them it.

He thinks back to the ukulele that Connor had bought him. Although he’d had no means of paying him back, Ralph had tried to insist on paying Connor back in some way, but he’d shrugged him off, insisting that it was “fine” and “’s just what mates do, innit?” No matter how much he racks his brain, Ralph can’t remember a time when anyone ever bought him a gift. On his birthday, he’d get presents for little boys, but not necessarily for Ralph. Footballs and train sets and toy soldiers. He had far more fun on Victoria’s rocking horse, or even games as simple as a hoop and stick, though running through the house with them always ended with harsh words and a harsher reception from his father’s cane.

The door leading out to the garage has a sign on it that says [Staff Only]. Clerks would walk in empty-handed and come out again with arms full. He assumes that’s where the inventory is kept.

He notices that there are people running up and down the stairs, and asks the very helpful clerk at the front if it’s okay to go up there. They tell him it is, and explain that there is a cordoned off area for staff only, but that there are plenty more books to be found, as well as some toilets if that’s what he’s looking for. He assures them that it isn’t, but he thanks them again regardless. 

Victoria’s quarters are now the staff quarters. The bathroom… Still serves some of its purposes. The master bedroom and his father’s office are all also filled with bookshelves. It almost feels like an invasion of privacy, seeing all these people walk through rooms that even Ralph and Victoria were forbidden from, back in the day.

Which leaves one more room. Taking a moment to compose himself, he steps into what used to be his bedroom and is met with the most amazing smells. Sounds of china clinking against itself as cups find saucers. The gentle chatter of people sitting in what appears to be a small cafe. So many people in his space. Nothing to suggest it was ever the room he grew up in.

He’s stood by a counter, looking around while lost in thought, when the barista behind the counter gets his attention. “Everything okay, sir? Would you like anything?”

Ralph coughs out, “Oh, please, I’m no sir. Um, it’s fine, I haven’t… Brought any money with me or anything. Just here to look around.”

Nodding slowly while frowning, the barista steps away for a moment before returning and sliding a full cup of saucer his way. “Oh, no!” they say in a very deliberate tone. “I seem to have made this all wrong for one of my customers, and I would hate to waste it! Would you mind taking it off my hands, so my boss doesn’t see?”

Ralph looks perplexed. “But I just saw you - and how could you possibly go wrong with tea, you’ve not put any milk in yet or -”

They wave him off. “You look like you need it. Call it my good deed for the day. What milk should I “accidentally” put in?” They make air quotes with their fingers, which makes Ralph chuckle. 

He tells them which milk he’d prefer and they add it to his liking - “accidentally,” Ralph repeats the motions back to the barista who smiles back. “Should I tell others of your good deed, or do you wish for it to remain unknown?”

They grin widely. “Maybe no photos, but you can subtweet me if you like.”

Ralph frowns. “What’s a sub-tweet?”

“You can tweet about it without mentioning any specifics about me,” they explain. “Big fan, by the way.”

Ralph looks elated, but then his face falls. “Would - Are you going to ask me for a photo?”

“Oh god, no, I don’t think either of us are prepared for that! This chat’s been more than enough for me,” they smile at him once more before serving the next customer.

Ralph takes the cup with a warmth in his heart as he finds a free table that, once he’s sat at, is in the exact same placement as though he were sat at his own bed. He rubs his thumb back and forth across the rim of the cup, replaying that little conversation over and over. Being shown such a genuine act of kindness, with the person getting absolutely no personal gain from it, and within the walls of his own home, as well - sure, the people who wanted photos was flattering enough, but for once, someone just wanted to connect with Ralph. To validate that they didn’t think him an annoyance.

That gets him thinking yet again. About all of the times in this building he’s heard, “Not now, Ralph!” “For crying out loud, boy, will you stop?!” “Ugh, what is it now, hm?!” And about how he hasn’t heard a single utterance of any of those phrases since living with you. 

Maybe it was never Ralph that was annoying - you never made him feel that way, even at the beach when he was trying to help you find your rock. Every time Ralph tried to help, you were never unkind. Even when he would get too excited and hand you one that he’d already done before, you telling him, “You’ve already shown me that one!” was accompanied with laughter. What a sweet sound that was. Ralph misses it so. Even when the day’s excursion was unsuccessful because he got distracted playing with a child, you were completely unperturbed by it.

Maybe Ralph isn’t annoying. Maybe you were just the first selfless person out there who had the patience for him. Maybe…

Ralph shoves his hands into his coat pockets and feels around. He feels something large and leaves it be, and then feels something long and smooth. He takes out the photo reel of the two of you and looks at each photo. He’d have never been allowed to pose for any of the Penbury family portraits like this. Not even the soft smiles in the top one. The smile that looks so good on you. How could Ralph ever want to do anything other than make you feel like that all of the time?

As he sips his tea, his thumb absent-mindedly rubs over the bottom photo. Ralph couldn’t believe his luck, to feel your lips on his face. Of course, he had plenty more from the rest of your friends, but it wasn’t the same. How lucky Ralph was on that day. How happy the two of you were. He’d do anything to make sure you were that happy, again.

Anything.

He pockets the photos carefully, before finishing his tea in one big gulp, thanking the barista silently but profusely, and making his way out of Penbury House once more.

He wasn’t exactly expecting Homeless Pete to be waiting outside of the building the whole time, and so it’s a rather charming surprise to see him there still. Ralph stays back for a few moments, figuring out what his next words will be to Pete, since they’ll likely be the last he addresses them with. Once he’s decided, after several minutes of deliberating, he takes a deep breath and strides up to the other man.

“Mister Peter, after thinking long and hard about this, I have decided I wish to stay. I just feel as though I still have -”

Homeless Pete cuts him off with a grunt before turning around and shuffling into the building. Ralph frowns at the sight of the back of him. He was so looking forward to getting certain things off of his chest, and it was such a big decision to make, now it all feels rather anticlimactic. It’s rather underwhelming, if he’s being honest.

Turning back and walking down the high street, he sees what appears to be a costume store of sorts. There’s a suit jacket that Ralph rather likes the look of, but it’s paired with the most hideous colour combination. Looking around at the rest of the window display, he recognises the style of tasselled dress on the second mannequin with great familiarity, though something puzzles him about the display. There’s a board on it that specifically states, “Party like it’s 1922”, but these colours were not in season at all! What an amateur display of affairs. The only thing that remains true to that year are the trousers of the suit, but again, the top half is all wrong.

Ralph does spot something on the rack behind that looks like it would go well, though. And he’s strangely taking this display very personally. Once again working on autopilot, he marches into the store and promptly starts stripping down the suited mannequin. Finding a more appropriate shirt and tie to go along with the outfit he’s designing in his head, he starts muttering nonsensically to himself under his breath. 

He doesn’t notice the store clerk, who’s been watching him with amazed confusion at the sheer audacity of his actions, creeping up to him until they ask, “Sir? Can I help you?”

“Oh, heavens!” Ralph yelps before letting a laugh bubble out from his lips. “Made me jump. No, thank you, I’m perfectly fine as I am!”

“…Right.” They slowly back away into a back room, out of Ralph’s perception. Not that he was watching, anyway, he’s on the lookout for a dress that complements his new suit layout far better.

Just as he’s pulling the dress over the mannequin’s head - blindly, as he has his head turned away from it and his eyes squeezed shut, for good measure - an older woman with a kindly face approaches him. “Hello there, love. Did my employee’s window display offend you, by any chance?” she asks in a Cockney accent.

“Oh!” Another yelp causes him to jump up on the spot. “You’re a sneaky pair, aren’t you! Yes, I’m terribly sorry, it’s awfully rude of me, but you see… The colour palette was all too wrong for the year 1922 anyway, and even then, nothing really complemented each other. I just thought this looked more cohesive, and… Honestly, I’ve no idea what came over me, the more I stand here the more of an utter fool I feel for being so inappropriate, I truly hope you can forgive me but I understand if you can’t, I shall leave immediately,” he hangs his head as he rambles, but the woman pats his arm.

“Chatty li’ul thing, int’cha?” She grins. “Name’s Florence, but don’t call me that, everyone calls me Babs. Always have since I were a kid.” She provides no further context, which Ralph tries not to dwell on as she continues, “Look, ’ere’s the fing, I ain’t the spring chicken I used to be, and I’ve been lookin’ for a fresh pair o’ hands. You seem to have an eye for this sorta fing. Fancy a job ’ere?”

Ralph’s eyes widen. “Oh, I, um, I can’t - I’m not… resgistered with any… Banks, you see,” he scrambles to think of a decent excuse, his eyes squeezing shut and his fingers curling in and stretching out.

Babs, however, screeches out a cackle. “Oh, ain’t you a - ’ere, in’t he a crack-up?” She asks the person behind the counter, who nods without looking up, with the air of someone very used to Babs’ personality. “You and me, darlin’, we’re one and the same. I don’t trust them toffs at the bank, neither! They want my money, they can prise it out me cold, dead hands! That’s why I pay cash in hand, sweed’art, all I ask is you show up a few days a week and I’ll pay ya for ’em. How’s that sound?”

A job with no ties to needing any sort of administration? Sounds too good to be true. But Ralph doesn’t care in this moment. “Oh, Ms. Babs, this really does solve such a gaping issue for me, you have no idea how indebted I am, thank you so very much,” he gushes as he shakes her hand enthusiastically.

She laughs, “Calm it, Kermit, I’ve already ’ad an ’ip replaced, I’d like to keep both me ’ands if I can ’elp it!” Ralph lets go as though she’s electrocuted him, which only makes her laugh more. “Go on, away wiv ya. See ya Monday, 9 sharp! We’ll talk shop more then. And you can drop that Ms malarkey, an’ all!”

Ralph smiles and bows at her, then at the other clerk, then at Babs again, who waves him away with a warm smile. Turning on his heel, Ralph’s filled with a confidence he’s never felt before as he strides back down the high street. Perhaps he could do it all. Perhaps he could even tell you how he truly feels about you.

Or, once the tower block comes into view, he could freeze up entirely at the thought. How presumptuous of him, to assume you’d reciprocate. Ralph would be lucky if you were to talk to him again after last night’s display. And what would he even say to you? Is it worth all of the mental energy to plan a whole monologue in advance, or would you simply repeat the other man’s actions, and slam the door in his face before he got the chance to say his piece?

Taking a deep breath in, squaring his shoulders and balling his fists up, he finally marches his way into the building, pressing the call button for the lift with such force that the arrow imprints in the pad of his thumb. As he’s waiting for it to come down, a familiar sound from behind him surprises him, as he turns to face whoever caused it.

~~~

Once you’re in your flat, wrestling both your bag and the suitcase into the lift with you and practically juggling them as you try to unlock your door, you take Ralph’s stuff and quickly throw it all into the bedroom, shutting the door and metaphorically shutting everything to do with Ralph in there. Except this had been his home for the last 3 months, so everything everywhere reminds you of him. Shaking your head, you go to your bag, throw everything that isn’t clothing out of it and take it out to the launderette with you. Keep out of the house, keep busy. Just until your mind stops swimming.

You watch your clothes spin around in the soapy water and wish you could do the same to your brain. What do you do with Ralph? Do you forgive him? Do you not? Do you seek his forgiveness? What if he doesn’t forgive you? 

You’re still very sure that your anger was valid. But perhaps not all of it was justified. You’ve been putting an awful lot of emotional weight on the idea of Ralph. Imagining him as the perfect boyfriend, and then trying to see the worst in him to combat those feelings. That doesn’t sound like someone with a winning argument in the real world.

Something about not having the security of having Ralph safe at home has you feeling a sense of numbness. Time passes without you even noticing. You’re not doing anything to help it along. Just sitting, staring, pondering.

Once you’re back home, you check the time and frown. Based on the time Anna said she was leaving, she should have been back well before now. You text:

Panicking, you then text the group:

Pacing the flat, your mind races more than ever. What if he’s hurt? Or worse? Or what if H.P’s found him because the time machine’s finally working now? What if he’s just walking the streets because he doesn’t want to return home? What if he really is living with the vagrants? What if he’s just doing all of this to make you panic over him? Truly, anything’s possible. Truly. He’s even in your head, now.

You look out through your window, uselessly from this high up. You know your friends said that you should stay at the flat, and it makes sense, in case he does come back. But what if he doesn’t? What if he’s lost? What if you need to be out there?

No. You’re useless to him and to your friends if your mind’s frazzled. You try asking your Echo if it can play you some music before remembering that a certain someone rendered it useless to you. You try and flick through your TV options but none of them are a worthy distraction.

After some frantic cleaning, you swear you’re starting to hear voices. Who else would be talking out in the hallway? Could it be? But who would he be talking to?

You press your ear to the door and pure relief washes over you as you hear the sweet, familiar tone of a man born with a silver spoon in his mouth. Running to grab your phone, you hurriedly text them to call off the search before swinging the door open.

“- dunno how the fuck she even got out, let alone all the way down there."

"Must have been the stairs, though it would be rather humorous if she learned how to operate the lift all by herself, wouldn't it?" Ralph chortles. Fuck, you've missed the sound of his laugh, and it's only been a day.

"Alright, look who's here!" Your neighbour cheers as they see you. They're standing in their open doorway, while Ralph is in the hall cradling Cheese the cat. Quickly, while his eyes haven't met yours yet, you snap a picture of Ralph holding his feline friend to send as a quick update to the group.

When Ralph looks around to see you, his eyes immediately fill with delight, then remorse, then excitement, then dejection, finally settling on looking at you with intent to gauge your reaction. Your neighbour, oblivious, continues, "Literally, mate, I owe you so much for finding her. Name your price."

"Oh, nonsense, just knowing she's safe and home is reward enough for me," Ralph scratches her just beneath her jaw as he rocks her like a baby, to which she purrs loud enough for even you to hear. The same cat who you'd had to being out of hiding before by standing in the doorway and throwing ham into your neighbour's flat until she came out to eat it.

"Well, if you think of anything, you let me know. I just hope nobody told the big man that they saw a cat walking around when we're not meant to have them," your neighbour grimaces.

"Ahh, if I catch wind of any grasses, I'll sort them out," you smirk before turning to Ralph again. "Ready to go?"

Ralph's big doe eyes bore into yours as he nods, gently putting the cat down and then quickly making his way back into your flat.

"He's a good'un really, isn't he?" Your neighbour simpers.

Watching him go, your wistful smile remains even as you look back at your neighbour. "Yeah. Remember what I told you when you first met him? Harmless."

"Yeah, yeah. You would think that," they smile knowingly. Narrowing your eyes, confused, you simply wave them off and go back through your door

Ralph seems to have shut himself in your room. You feel as though he's probably got a reason why he wants to avoid you, and there's many a thing you don't want to hear from him, either. But you've felt a fraction of what it would be like to lose him and that alone was torturous. Every time you felt bad all day, you only wanted to talk to Ralph. Now that you finally have the opportunity to, you're not going to waste it. Just remember to rein it in.

You knock on the door. You step back. He opens it. You exchange similar looks of curiosity, but something about him being here and in front of you overpowers you and you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in to hug him tightly. His arms snake around your sides, and you feel his hands splay out against your back and press into it. It’s a hug that says it all. It apologises and it forgives, a crossover of exchanges between you. He smells like coffee shops and second-hand smoke, but the familiar scent of Ralph still remains as you bury your face into him.

When he pulls away from you, it’s to hold you at arm’s length with a gleeful glint in his eye. “I’ve got some news for you.”

Your heart sinks. Surely, anything that’s good for him that’s happened over the course of today can’t be good for you. But you wouldn’t be a good friend if you weren’t supportive. So you put on a smile and ask, “Oh, yeah?”

“I’ve got a job!” he singsongs, skipping on the spot. You look at him incredulously, and he explains. “It’s a bespoke costume store, run by this… Rather eccentric character, and it pays cash in hand! So I can earn some money and pay you back!”

You rub your face. “Look, Ralph, when I said those things -”

“That was a justified cause for concern, and I wish to rectify it. I, myself, said things that I did mean and things that I didn’t. But I don’t think it’ll do us good to talk about that too much.”

“I don’t either,” you smile back. “I’m glad you’ve found something to keep you occupied. Though, what about when… You know… Lift’s back in service?”

Ralph pauses. Does he tell you that he's willing to take the risk and stay as long as he can? Would you trust Homeless Pete as a reliable source or would you assume Ralph was stupid for doing so? He feels far too fragile to have another argument. And so he simply shrugs, "Then I shall have to do some awful things very quickly to ensure I'd never be welcomed!"

You laugh loudly, "Ralph!" and he grins back at you.

"Oh, and before I take this coat off…" he starts, shoving his fists into his pockets.

"Ah, yeah, we can put that reel on the fridge!” You grin, but Ralph shakes his head.

“Well, yes, but also… Um, well, I had noticed that due to my incessant bothering, you’d, um, forgotten to actually pick out a stone from the beach,” Ralph starts.

You interrupt him with a groan, slapping your forehead with the heel of your hand. “Oh my god, I forgot my cool rock this year!”

“W-well, I went back earlier this morning - goodness, was it only this morning?” Ralph asks under his breath. “Anyway, um, I know this is… Probably… A very easy shape to mistake a rock to be, but I didn’t remember seeing it on the shelf and so…” You look down, and in the palm of Ralph’s hand sits a stone that’s in a near-perfect heart shape.

“Oh, Ralphie,” you gush, pressing your hand to your chest. Even after everything last night, he still went out of his way to find that for you. If he hadn’t clarified that it was merely an easy shape to find, you’d have questioned the nature of it specifically, but he had, so there’s no need to look deeper into it. You have your answer.

“Well, I just thought even though it might not have been worthy enough for you to have picked, you still get to keep your tradition this year,” he explains hurriedly. “I know it’s just a circle with a dent in it, but -”

“But it came from you, and it’s unique to the shelf, so it’s absolutely living there,” you insist, pushing his fingers to curl up around the smooth stone and holding his hand there for a few beats. Not wanting to linger too long, you snap back and clear your throat. “Why not put it on there, I’ll order us a takeaway, and we’ll find something trashy to put on, yeah?” Ralph nods meekly and you practically float over to the sofa, you’re that happy to just have your Ralph back, for however long that may be.

“Oh, hey, good news and bad-ish news on your front,” you shout to him in the other room. “Good news is, everyone seems to be over making their icons the photo of you flapping about microwaving the egg!”

He frowns as he pops back into view. “And the bad?”

You show him the sea of icons, all Ralph, all wearing a polo shirt, all stood behind the painting that hangs on the back wall, all with a rose in his mouth. “I think they’ve found your Tinder.”

Ralph groans as he approaches the sofa to sit down next to you, and you rest your head on his shoulder comfortingly. You don't feel the need to move it as you pick out a movie you think Ralph will like. "Here, this one's good," you point out. "It's another musical, you like those."

"I do!" Ralph lilts excitedly. "What's it all about?"

"Okay, so in the seventies, there was this insanely popular group of singers called ABBA..."

next chapter

#ralph timewasters #ralph timewasters x reader #ralph timewasters x you #ralph timewasters fanfic #ralph timewasters imagine #ralph penbury #ralph penbury x reader #ralph penbury x you #ralph penbury fanfic #ralph penbury imagine #ralph timewasters fluff #ralph penbury fluff #bsbl #fic: bsbl #*myfics

[aviangrian]

ahhh i just wanted to say i love starboy SOOO much!!!! i did not/still dont know anything about f1 but the way you write it is so easy to follow along with and read!!! i love how you write the characters, especially scar/grian/joel/lizzie, you write them so so sooo flawlessly... i love how it seems like were there with scar in the moment of everything going on and how you describe everything from his perspective. i also LOVE how you write scar and grian especially because they both seem just so *real* and *raw* and i usually never see that from fics. the way you write is just so in detail that it really allows the reader to imagine everything thats happening and i LOVEEE that!!! i also love how you write grian and mumbos friendship, like they obviously care about each other so muchhh and i love how the readers able to see that even through scars perspective!!!!! esp the scene after grian fell asleep watching topgun and mumbo helping him lay down into a more comfortable position,,, and how they hugged when grian finally got p1 😭😭❤️ NOT TO MENTION THE LATEST CHAPTERRRR AND SCAR AND GRIANS FIRST KISS????? THAT WHOLE CHAPTER WAS GOLDDDD i loved that chapter so much,,, so much happened between grian and scar???? that scene of them in the club??? scar (and us) finally getting some insight to what happened in grians past from grian himself??? grian being comfortable enough with scar to actually open up to him??? AND THEM CONFESSINGGG??? ☹️☹️☹️❤️❤️❤️ might be my fav chapter if im being honest

i also just wanted to ask a few questions while i was here though;

first, do you have a set upload schedule? or is it like a whenever you have time to work on it thing?

second, do you think youll be posting more content abt this au after starboy is finished? like a grians pov or something? ive become so interested in this au because i can tell so much work has been put into it and id love to see more it!!

lastly, is this going to be an eventual mumscarian fic??? i think its obvious Somethings going on/has happened between grian and mumbo but i just dont know What... like that one scene with them all at the dinner??? or the car scene with grian standing up through the sunroof???

i cant wait to read more chapters!!! but im also scared As Hell because SO much has happened already and its only been 6 chapters. we still have 5 more longgg chapters left and im so scared but also excited for how things are going to go... i hope youre having a good day, i cant wait to see what you have in store for this story!!! 🫶🫶 sawrry that this was a lot of rambling though,,, 😭😭❤️

anon i’m crying?? 😭 thank you so much.

the goal of the fic is real and raw! it’s an unusual setting (maybe not for me considering this is my second racing centric fic) but everything that happens is a product of the environment! the wins from his own team left scar feeling bitter at times, but watching grian win had him so proud he knew he’d get in trouble w his own team if he showed it lol. it’s all about where they are and it makes me sooo happy (like you would not believe) when people who aren’t f1/sports fan still enjoy the fic!

last ch was a lot and contained a lot of really vital stuff that i couldn’t wait to see the reactions of. grian finally opening up is so important to me and scar letting it happen in its own time is a huge part of why grian begins letting him in, which is evidently not something he’s used to at all. mans has been through it in this universe

as for the questions: i don’t have an upload schedule but i try to churn out the chs when i have time. it fits that valentine’s was right before midterms season for me so i got to get something out before i get swamped by all that 🥲 i don’t like to let a full month go by without posting but we’ll see how my semester keeps going lol

and i’ve been thinking of content once i’ve finished starboy. i’ve had ideas of grian’s pov hitting all the major plot points or even a jimmy spin-off one shot but nothing is planned for now. definitely floating around in my mind

mumscarian is not the endgame but the mystery behind grian and mumbo will be revealed! grian is mysterious and mumbo being mumbo goes along w it, but it does come full circle eventually!

i didn’t even realize there’s already only 5 chs left! that’s crazy, considering how much of the story i have left!

thank you again anon, this is all very much appreciated. i love your rambling because it allowed me to ramble too haha

#ask #so sweet i just wanna 🩷🩷🤍🩵💚💖💖 #starboy

[lemony-snickers]

Im really proud of you for choosing what feels right for you, rather than what you think people expect of you. It can be a really hard thing to do and you're doing it. You've created some absolutely gorgeous work, and we will continue to love them, but you are under no obligation to continue something that hurts you. You deserve better than that and I completely relate. There are months and months every year where I can't write. I don't want to, it hurts to try, so I don't. Inevitably an idea comes, I work on that, and then I stop when it doesn't make me happy to continue. It's an extremely healthy thing to do according to my psychologist, because writing is meant to be a hobby. When it stops being that, it's time to step away until you come back to it naturally. I hope one day you see the value in yourself and your work, but for now, rest, recuperate, find what brings you joy in the here and now because ultimately that's what matters most -- 💚

i do wish i could write forever, you know? but it just isn't sustainable. i think i've just fundamentally broken the part of me that used to enjoy doing it by trying so hard and so long for nothing (or, to be more fair, i suppose, what amounts to very little).

i used to work as a content writer. for like two years pre-pandemic, i churned out 8k words on average per day as my job. i thought i was good at it, but it turns out i wasn't good enough at it. and i definitely supplanted that same desire to write so much with fanfiction after i lost my job, especially during quarantine.

like, this drive to create something had to be put to some use, you know? and fanfic was it. and then i tried some original writing, which no one wanted anything to do with and after about two dozen rejections i finally just quit writing original content altogether because it just hurts to have everyone say, "oh, no thank you" every time you put yourself out there.

i guess i had hoped fanfiction would be able to fill this, like, gaping wound i have created in myself, but that was an unfair thing to expect. i was never going to be as satisfied by this as i wanted to be because, as i said recently, i kept moving the goal post, you know? kept saying, "okay, well that was fine, but i want more."

more engagement, more love, more sense of accomplishment. more recognition. i'm a very solipsistic person at heart, i guess, huh? maybe we all are, idk.

but there's only so much of any of those things i can get doing what i am doing, being who i am and subscribing to the limitations thereof.

i don't know what is "best" for me, if i'm honest. except for getting my ass back to therapy which i have been trying to do for more than a year only to be rejected over and over again just like with the writing which is--

i am getting off topic, but you can imagine how it is, probably, lol.

i am just struggling to figure out how to be satisfied with a life i find deeply disappointing, i think. and i'm not sure how i'm going to do that, but i have reached a point where writing fanfic hurts more than it helps, usually.

god i'm sorry i hijacked this thing for another self-pity wank and i don't even know how to stop myself.

thank you for the kind message. i'm sorry i am just word vomiting all the time, now. but, i hope you know i am truly grateful. and i'm so glad you are able to recognize this cycle of your own writing and to still find joy in it when you can. i hope i can learn to do that someday, too. <3

#ask #and answered #💚 anon

[the-far-bright-center]

Re: TCW as meta commentary

A little while ago, I commented on a post about the electrocution that Anakin experiences during The Clone Wars animated series, but since my response turned into a bit of a rant I decided to make a separate post instead. It’s become almost a meme these days to say that Anakin must have 'brain damage' from all that electrocution during the Clone Wars. I realise that tumblr just likes to joke around, but I personally get frustrated with these sorts of 'readings' because it's just...not how I personally view these kinds of things at all. When I watched TCW back in the day, I just presumed that the reason there was so much electrocution was to give a ‘nod’ to Vader being so averse to Palpatine’s Force-lightning in RotJ. Having Anakin tortured countless times in a similar manner to how Luke is at the end of RotJ then explains why Anakin/Vader can’t abide seeing his son tortured that way any longer (he knows all-too well what it’s like!) and finally snaps and kills Palpatine. The fact he hates and is maybe even terrified of Palpatine’s Force-lightning by that point (knowing it will almost certainly kill him) also lends his final sacrifice in RotJ another level of pathos and heroism.

Of course, one could just dismiss the electrocution as the writers being sadistic and saying ‘let’s torture Anakin all the time’ (which is definitely part of it, lol), but I also feel like there's more going on there. Everything in the (original Lucas-era) seasons of TCW was constructed as a sort of ‘meta analysis’ of the PT x OT saga, explored via the Clone Wars-era characters and themes. One of the reasons TCW was even made in the first place was to shed further light on the Prequels at a time when SW fans were still fairly hostile to it. And particularly to shed light on the Prequels in relation to the Original Trilogy. That’s why Anakin was explicitly shown to be the Chosen One in the Mortis Arc—because at the time there was still tons of confusion from fans on the subject (despite Lucas confirming it many times in interviews) and the show was trying to clarify that.

I think people these days get tripped up because they’re trying to take every detail of TCW way too literally. Some aspects of the show can work on a literal level, but not everything. Simply due to the fact it's an animated series (where the rules of gravity don’t even apply at times), there is no way that every single moment in it could be considered 100% canon anyway. Acknowledging that some elements of the show couldn’t possibly be meant to be taken literally was easier to do during the pre-Disney times when the series was still just another entry into the Expanded Universe. It’s only because Disney has now absorbed TCW into their ‘official canon’ (and keep churning out content related to it—something I’m NOT happy about) that there’s all this sort of external ‘pressure’ to view it as completely canon.

Speaking of which, I’ve noticed a lot of polarised opinions on the series lately, ranging from people who accept it wholesale to those who flat out hate it and see it in the same vein as the current Disney material. I can't comment on the 'final season' released under Disney because I never watched it and probably never will. That being said, I personally have a great fondness and nostalgia for the 2008-2013 series, in part because I watched it with my husband when we first got together. If the OT represents my childhood and the PT represents my teenage years, then TCW is from a charmed, golden era just prior to the Disney takeover when I was bonding with my husband over our shared love of SW. Sure, I have issues with some parts of it at times, but it was never a big deal for me in the past because I never viewed the series as canon on the same level as the main six-film saga. Rather, I've always seen it as an interesting illumination on the saga, some of which I agree with and some of which I don’t, and some of which I accept into my own personal headcanon, and some of which I discard.

Things I adore and have taken fully into my heacanon: Ahsoka's character and Snips and Skyguy's relationship. They mean too much to me to not do so. Likewise, all the cute, romantic, and (positive) emotional Anidala moments, as well as the Obitine ship (aka the only ship for Obi-Wan that ever made sense from my perspective). I also view Rex and several of the other Clones as canon additions, because fleshing out the Clone characters was always very important worldbuilding and I'm glad it was included. Similarly, I love all the humorous moments and banter, especially in the early seasons. But on the other hand, there are several story arcs in the later seasons that are either too ‘out there’, blatantly ooc, or even incredibly disturbing (Zygerrian arc, for instance), and I refuse to accept these as literal ‘canon’. Nevertheless, I can't fully dismiss them either because there are still moments of these episodes that I enjoy and value. In those instances, I sort of step outside the story for a moment and look at it from a meta perspective to discern what they were trying to do and say with those storylines, since taking them literally would be too jarring. Likewise, no matter how many times I watch TCW (and even having seen most of Rebels as well), I’m NEVER going to accept the idea that Maul was somehow still alive and wreaking havoc during the Twilight of the Republic and even during the Dark Times. I don’t accept it as canon because I feel it detracts not only from the impact of the Duel of the Fates in TPM, but also from the symmetry and beauty of the perfectly mirrored PT x OT saga as a whole. I can acknowledge that some of the Maul storylines in the animated series were interesting and even emotionally impactful (and can enjoy Sam Witwer's voice acting for him), while also sticking to my guns and saying ‘this whole premise is just plain silly, I am not accepting this as real’. (I would have actually been more amenable to Maul if he'd been 'ressurected' in a different manner, but that's a subject for another post.)

So, while I enjoy TCW, I personally think it’s more enjoyable if you stop believing everything in it is meant to be taken completely literally or realistically, and instead view it as part fun, entertaining romp, part ‘missing moment’ fanfic, and part serious (if somewhat dark and twisted) meta-commentary.

#just my thoughts and ramblings #the clone wars #tcw #pro-lucas saga #anti-disney #expanded universe #i view TCW in the same vein as old-school Expanded Universe #because that's the context it was originally created in #i feel like i'm the only person in the world with this particular perspective #and it's getting lonely in here #hoping to find others with similar view....

[hardlypartying]

hi! i love your fics sm and am really enjoying the fake dating au! i was wondering post s3 with all the tropes we got for rafe and kie do you think you’ll write any fics?! <3

Yay!! Love to hear that you’re enjoying the fics!!

I feel like a lot of amazing riara fic writers are creating wonderful works from the tropes we’ve seen in s3– quite honestly my mind is still mush from the content we got lol I’m on cloud nine, in an absolute haze at the scenes we got I think it’ll take a minute for all that to settle and for me to churn out something

I would like to explore the moments we didn’t see for riara though— how things went down in that room. Namely, how did Rafe end up sleeping on the floor 😆 And then my mind spirals because of the way Rafe probably didn’t even fight her or even offered to take the floor to make sure she’s comfortable and how he hates everyone but her and she’s able to use that to her advantage again and again and he’ll let her and when she pushed him in the water he promised he would get her but he was in obx the same time as her and he never bothered and instead pinned the stolen boat on jj effectively protecting kie and how he’s got the softest spot for her and she hates him and is terrified of him but he doesn’t want that and now he’s dating a pogue waitress maybe trying to pick some similarities with another half kook waitress and and and and and

ANYWAYYYY that’s how my brain is working right now so until I can ground myself without just going riarariarariarariara in circles, then I’ll probably be able to write something some what coherent

#asks #there is a s1 rewrite I’m thinking of in Kiara’s perspective if she never left kook academy and now shit is happening and she’s so out of #the loop and she’s seeing the people closest to her change so drastically and she has no clue how to help and what the fuck is going on #ofc it’d be so fucking angsty bc Rafe and Sarah #her trying to find footing with the pogues too #remember that nasty line pope said to her in s1 about her not being there for them when big John went missing #double it and give it to the next person #Kiara will be going throughhhh it #and then she realizes that the kooks aren’t that great but her contentious relationship with Rafe gets in the way #she’s caught in the middle of everything #anyway I want the s3 kidnapping arc to be when they finally get to talk to one another & as Singh alluded to-the reunion will cause sparks #but that is sooooo far away from being a thing I’m just marinating it rn #riara

[cherrykamado]

Hi, first off I wanna say that I read your rules and I'm not sure if you don't want someone like me interacting but my age is in the link to my masterlist. But feel free to block me if you want, I won't be offended lol.

I know we don't really know each other so sorry if I say something that upsets you somehow.

This might be kinda long, sorry heh. It's kind of a rant too but I really needed to get this off my chest..

But thank you very much for that survey about the lack of interaction on Tumblr. The results from it and the discussions from you and other people has really opened my eyes about this place and just being a writer on the internet in general.

It made me really sad once I realized if I just stopped posting or left, people would most definitely just move on since there are plenty of other content to consume out there.

It's honestly making me think about switching careers from writing to art 💀

Idk if things will change no matter how much I beg for interaction and honestly, things might not ever get better/change.

I normally tend to think about my readers first. Of course I write for myself too but sharing my content with other people is part of the joy and happiness...

Whenever I'm writing the next chapter of my story, or just anything really, I get butterflies and my stomach churns with excitement about how my readers will react to it.

But once I post it and receive nothing, all that work and effort and energy just feels wasted. It makes me wonder if people are actually reading my stuff or enjoying it at all.

The thousand likes feel empty and meaningless after a while at this point.

I wonder if one of the other reasons readers don't wanna comment is because the writer might not reply to it and it feels like...there was no point in commenting? Idk, but I do try my best to reply to almost everyone's comment. It's just sometimes idk how to respond but I always read each reply left by someone 😔

Now, I'm one of those people who write a lot more than read on Tumblr and I do have a separate blog for reblogs but I only reblog the content that I personally loved and actually read.

And I think that's reasonable. I won't be able to consume all the content I find on here and I definitely won't enjoy all of them either. Just cause of personal preference.

However, I am kinda guilty when it comes to not commenting on other people's works. I always do a full dive on their blog to make sure I don't accidentally piss them off by interacting 😅

I need to do a better job at commenting though, I do.

Being a writer is tough. I want to delete my blog and never write again. But I love writing too much to abandon..

I'm currently on a break right now but I remembered your survey and I was like "oh right, I wanted to see the results."

So I logged back on just for you heh <3

But I'm still on break despite being here for this brief moment lol.

I still want to write but I'm not getting the feedback I need on Tumblr. Wattpad sucks and there a lot of minors there so that's kind of a no...AO3 might be the next best option but other than those places, I don't know where else to go. And it feels like my writing days are already over.

I can't write anymore without being sad these days so I'm going to mull it over during my break.

Hope you're doing okay during these tough times ʕ´•ᴥ•`ʔ♥︎ take care

HI HUN OFC NOT !! it's totally okay n i'm glad you're telling me what you think !! and also sobs u logged back on for me??? im so honored 🥺🥺

look, it's completely valid. what you feel is SUPER valid. it's not wrong to want attention for what you do, because even if you're writing for yourself, you share with others whom you know are going to like the same as you. and one seeks validation (i do seek validation!) and it's completely fine. it's not wrong at all to want it !! besides, you're posting something that took you hours, days, effort. and when that's not well appreciated it tends to hurt. it does.

and look i'm not perfect either !! ofc there might be some things i need to get better at, i need to reblog more and try to be better at giving feedback. i think that —and this is also something quite a number of ppl came up with in the survey— it's important to support each other amongst writers. yeah, we're not entitled, but since we like and appreciate when someone reblogs/comments/leaves some kind of feedback, i believe it's important we do it in return too!

there's a point i cannot stress enough and it's something i'm sure tons of writers in here struggle with, and that is the amount of interaction does not make you a better/worse writer, and certainly doesn't determine how talented you are.

surely, lack of interaction makes it hard to get it in mind, and it's discouraging overall, but i really do hope you realize you're talented regardless the amount of notes you get. and i really hope one day you can go back to writing again — for yourself. even if you don't post it. as long as it makes you happy.

i hug you tight tight and send u tons of love hunny<3<3

#🍒 — mail #lovesickwriter<3 #IM SUPER SORRY THIS TOOK ME AGES TO GET TO #ALSO I realized you also go by cherry !! dnsfjadngk I LOVE<3

[giacomettislament]

okay not to be wholesome in this house of horny but could i please request some Leona, Vil, and Cater with their s/o topping? like, not in a harsh way, but in a super affectionate, kissing all over, trying to make these boys flustered kind of way? Leona and Vil especially need to be knocked down a peg or two lol, thank you!

interior

“the sound you hear now is a fanfare.”

cater. leona. vil.

content warning(s): explicit content

—Cater has always been desperate for your love, desperate for any form of attachment and validation, that you wonder how far he’d be willing to go for a scrap of your attention. You would never hurt him or do anything against his will, but he’s so eager to make you smile that you can’t help but want to peek into this poor boy’s brain and see what it is that makes his heart ache for you.

“Feels good…! Feels good, feels good! Getting fucked by you is the best!” He squeals. It’s clear he doesn’t care if anyone hears him moaning like a bitch in heat, given how roughly he’s jerking his hips back against yours, and you mentally apologize to whoever might be hearing Cater’s mewls bleed through the walls. But despite that, you don’t stop whatever you’re doing to his body at all: fucking him rhytmically and jerking his leaking dick off until he’s shaking.

You bite down on his ear, and you net yourself another wanton groan for him. His voice sounds so high-pitched and sloppy, unlike his carefully crafted perky persona, but you would rather have this unfiltered honest version of him than whatever faux play he would put on for you.

“Does it feel that good?” You whisper. He makes a strangled cry when you stuff him full of your strap and lick the shell of his ear at the same time. It’s almost too much pleasure for the poor boy, and the wet noises of you fucking his ass combined with your low voice has him nearly coming undone right there and then.

“Yes! It feels so good! I love being fucked like this- Love being fucked by you!” He sounds like a porn star when he’s saying whatever floats up to his hazy thoughts, and you kiss him chastely. Cater chases your mouth for more, lapping at your lips lewdly and waiting for you to stick your tongue so far back in his throat that he chokes.

“You don’t need to try so hard to get me to like you, Cater. I already like you a lot,” you murmur. Cater freezes up against you, and when you jerk your hips against his, he spasms underneath you before letting out a muffled cry.

Something warm and sticky lands on your fingers.

“Cater, did you cum?”

“F-Fuck…!” He sounds like he’s about to cry. “You can’t just say things like that and expect me to- for me to-”

“I’m telling the truth.” You kiss him, over and over again. “I like you just as you are. Don’t settle for anything less than yourself to make me happy. I’m happiest when you’re you.”

“I…,” Cater’s eyes are wide and watery, and his dick twitches in your hand. His face turns the same color as his hair when he hardens up in your palm, and you laugh under your breath as you stroke him carefully.

You press your lips to his ear, making an exaggerated smooching noise. “Keep that in mind, Diamond. Why don’t we go for another round?”

—Humility. It’s a difficult topic for Leona to approach on all ends: he considers himself far from humble, yet he’s more than aware of his limitations. More than people give him credit for, to say the least. He knows having sex and being humble have very little correlation, but he’d be lying if he said he couldn’t feel his cheeks burn (with what exactly, he can’t say. Is it embarrassment? Love? Pride?) and his insides churn with a sort of twisted friction that makes his dick twitch against his sheets.

You sink your hips down on his ass gently, cooing his name with a roll of your tongue. He hates that he finds himself craving your voice like a cat chained up by their master, yet he can’t bring himself to cut himself off from you. You’re too sweet, too dear, too wonderful to him.

“You’re taking me so well, Leona,” you praise. He arches his back when your lips meet the nape of his neck. The tip of your strap ghosts over his G-spot, and Leona swears that he sees the stars for a split second.

He grits his teeth, glaring back at you over his shoulder. “Don’t mock me, herbivore.”

You kiss him again, and this time, you roll your hips carefully. Leona swallows back the moan rising in his chest, but the way his body tenses up doesn’t go unnoticed by you. You feel so good, stuffing him full with this stupid sex toy that has him reeling and completely at your mercy, like some good-for-nothing doe rather than a vain lion.

“I’m not mocking you,” you mouth against his skin. Your breaths are hot and heavy, trickling across his bare skin like the wisps of a happy memory long gone. “Is it wrong of me to want you? You’re so beautiful…”

“Don’t think you can fool me with your words.” Leona’s stomach twists at your praise, and he has a sudden urge to be held by you. He wonders how far your infatuation with him goes. Would you always be there for him, to whisper your angelic hymns and put him at peace? Or would tonight be the end of it all, leaving him alone in the sheets once the sun rises again?

—There are times when Vil appears to be more like a work of art than he does human. Stretches of unmarred skin tempt you to sink your teeth into it, marking his million-dollar complexion with hickies that would brand him as yours, and his magazine ads can’t even compare to how he looks when you’re ravishing him.

Vil smacks your wrist, and you flinch. The stinging pain whips you out of your reverie, and you hiss at your new wound.

The model clicks his tongue, shooting you a dirty look. “Gentle! Fuck- Potato, are you an idiot!? I said, be gentle!”

“Sorry,” you mutter, trying to cool him off by offering him a kiss to the corner of his lips. He huffs to himself but still whimpers softly when you thrust into him the way you know he likes it best.

“Great Seven… You’re incurable. I ought to really put you in your place, so you’ll stop fumbling around like a headless chicken.” Vil’s fingers curl around his sheets, and he swallows thickly. You love seeing him under you in this manner—a side of the worldwide acclaimed model and actor that no one gets to have. What kind of lucky star were you born under to have him be in love with you?

You chuckle, your tongue languidly tracing a heart into his neck. He shoots you a pointed look so that you remember not to bite down, and you fight the animalistic urge to do so. As much as you’d love to aggravate him and fuck him until he think, tonight isn’t the night for something so aggressive.

“You always say that, yet you never do anything. You can just say you love me, you know. No need to beat around the bush so much.” Your strap sinks into his puckered hole slowly, stretching him out, and Vil gasps sweetly.

“L-Like hell I would… Not when you’re this clumsy,” he chokes out, as if his insides weren’t sucking you in gratefully and hungrily. You know him too well to actually take any of his “insults” to heart; his unwavering cool facade only added to his ever-growing charm.

“Well, if you won’t say it, I will,” you laugh into his shoulder. “I love you, Vil.”

He pauses, and his violet eyes tremble when he looks up at you. He looks like a painting: golden hair splayed out like sunshine, lips quivering like a young maiden in love, pink blush pooling in his cheeks like a rosebud.

“You fool… You utter fool,” he whispers, leaning in towards your lips. “I love you too.”

x

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #cater diamond #leona kingscholar #vil schoenheit #x reader #gender neutral reader #lemon

[leossmoonn]

Mini Murdock

masterlist

pairing - matt murdock x fem!reader

type - fluff

note / requests - requested by @arkofblake “matt x f!reader where he finds out youre pregnant w baby #? and it's just pure fluff and domestic murdock fam content🥰🥰” I love matt sm and you’re causing my obsession to become an actual issue. but it’s ok lol

summary - matt and you find out you’re pregnant

warnings / includes - mild language, allusion to abortion, vomit and food mention, little suggestive if you squint

————

*gif isn’t mine*

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Matt hums.

You pry your eyes open, setting them on your boyfriend, who was smiling widely. His hand was cupping your cheek, gently rubbing your cheekbone with his thumb.

“Good morning,” you mumble. You turn around onto your back to stretch.

“How did you sleep?” He asks. “Great. Although, there was this weird thing snoring right in my ear,” you reply.

He chuckles, “I snore?”

“Like an ogre,” you confirm. “Well, you drool,” he says.

“Not like you haven’t had my spit on you at some point,” you remark.

His face turns pink and he shys away. You giggle, turning back to him and gazing into his hazel eyes. You reached your hand up to his cheek, your nails gently running across his stubble. You couldn’t help but admire him. The sunlight was shining on half of his face, making him look like an angel.

“Staring is rude, you know,” he says. “Not when there’s a handsome man next to me,” you state.

Matt’s turns fire truck red and he coughs awkwardly. Even though you two had been together for a little over three years, he always got flustered from your compliments.

“What time is it?” You ask, closing your eyes again and snuggling into the pillows.

Matt reaches his hand over to his clock, feeling over the braille. “9:04.”

“So early,” you groan. “I’m going back to sleep.”

“No, we need to get up,” Matt nudges you. “Why? It’s Sunday and we both don’t work today,” you pout.

“I was thinking we could go out to breakfast.”

You open your eyes and smile at him. “I could just make us breakfast.”

“You deserve to rest. You don’t always have to be cooking.” He put his hand on your shoulder, rubbing it soothingly.

“But which is better, diner food or my food?”

He chuckles, “Your food.”

“Exactly,” you click your tongue. You lean over and press a chaste kiss to his lips. Matt’s arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling flush against him. You hum into the kiss, putting your hand on his bare chest and pushing away. “I’ll make us breakfast, okay?” You roll out of bed. As soon as your feet hit the floor, you begin to feel nauseous.

Matt senses your uneasiness and can hear your stomach churn uncomfortably. “Y/n?” Matt panics and sits up. “Are you okay?”

You run to the bathroom without saying anything. You collapse near the toilet, flipping the lid up and vomiting all of last night’s dinner.

Matt rushes over to you with water, rubbing your back soothingly. You clutch the toilet rim, groaning as you sit back on your heels. Matt wipes the leftover vomit from the corner of your lips with toilet paper, helping you drink some water.

“Sorry, you had to hear and smell that,” you grimace as you flush the toilet.

“Don’t apologize, you had no control over it. Do you feel sick?” He asks.

“No. I mean, I feel a little dizzy, but I just puked up everything I’ve eaten,” you sigh.

Matt puts his hand on your forehead, furrowing his brows. “You feel fine.” He then puts his hand on your heart. “Heart beat is regular.” He moves his hand down to his stomach. He leans in, listening intently. “There’s… something in your stomach.”

“Maybe it’s just indigestion or something,” you shrug.

“What if it’s a tumor? Or appendicitis?” Matt begins to worry.

“I highly doubt I have any of those. It’s probably just something I ate last night. I think that chicken was a little old,” you shrug.

“What if you are sick, though?” He frowns. “I’m not. Trust me, I would know.” You try to assure him.

“Can we just go get a check up, please?” He begs. “Matt,” you sigh. “We don’t need the unnecessary bills.”

“We can afford it. This is just the first time you’ve ever thrown up randomly, and I don’t want you to die.”

You can’t help but smile at your boyfriend’s worries. He was so cute when he was worked up over nothing. But to him, this wasn’t nothing. You knew that if you didn’t go to the doctors, he would try and examine you himself. You’d rather have a trained medical professional poking and prodding you than Matt.

You chuckle and put your hand on his shoulder. “Alright. I’ll get checked out.”

“Great. Maybe Claire can get us a discount,” Matt grins.

————

“Still feel okay?” Claire asks. “Yep. Thanks for doing this,” you smile.

“No problem. You’re my favorite patient. You don’t have any superpowers and you’ve only come in twice, counting this time,” Claire grins.

“Well, I’m glad. My visits would’ve only stuck to one if this guy wasn’t freaking out,” you nudge Matt.

“Hey, at least you got a guy who cares,” Claire says.

You smile, “True. I’m lucky.”

Matt smiles at you, leaning over and kissing your temple. “When will the results be back?”

“Because I know you’ll worry yourself to death, I’m making them push the labs. So hopefully in the next couple hours,” Claire answers.

“Great. Thank you,” Matt nods. “No problem. Also, Y/n, is there any chance you might be pregnant?” Claire asks.

You and Matt look at each other and begin to laugh.

“That is so funny, Claire,” you giggle. “Morning sickness is a thing, you know. That could be why you threw up randomly,” Claire hums.

“Yeah, but we use condoms, and trust me, we would know if it broke,” you explain.

“Alright, just making sure.” Claire types your answer into her patient notes. “You two are good to go. I’ll call you when the results come in.”

“Thanks, Claire. You’re a big help,” Matt smiles. “Don’t mention it,” Claire smiles back, walking out of the room.

“See? There’s nothing to worry about.” You grab Matt’s hand, bringing it up to your lips and kissing his knuckles.

“What if you are pregnant?” Matt wonders. You snort, “Yeah, right.”

“Are you late?” He asks. “No,” you shake your head. “And even if I was, how would I know? I’ve always been irregular.”

“I guess,” he nods. “Let’s just keep this out of our minds until the results come back, alright?” You suggest.

He nods once again, giving you a small smile. You walk out of the emergency clinic, driving back to your apartment. You made yourselves lunch while Matt read over the documents of his new case. A few hours later, Claire called your cell.

“Time for the results!” You exclaim as you answer the phone. “Hey, Claire. So, am I dying?”

Claire laughs, “No. But, um, I do have some news for you. Put me on speakerphone if you haven’t already.”

“Alright. You are on speaker phone,” you say. “Is Matt next to you?” Claire asks.

You walk over to the kitchen table where Matt is, sitting down. “Now he is.”

“Alright. Well, Y/n’s test results looked great. She’s not dying at all. But, there is something that came back positive.”

Matt’s leg bounces up and down anxiously. “What is it?”

“She’s pregnant.”

You drop your phone on the table. “What?”

“I know you two said that you use a condom all the time, but they can break and you may not realize it. Plus, maybe there was one time where you two didn’t.”

You look at Matt. He’s just as shocked as you are. He takes off his glasses, running his hands over his face.

“Oh, my god,” he groans. “I-I don’t know how this happened. I —”

“Wait, Matt?” You look at him as his eyes light up in realization.

“Remember when we went to see the play?” He asks.

“Yeah, what about it?” You nod. “Remember what we did in the parking lot after the show?” He raises his brows.

“Oh, shit,” you smack your forehead. “Let me guess, you two did not use protection?” Claire chimes in.

“Yeah,” you groan. “I’ll leave you two to talk,” Claire hangs up.

You sigh, rubbing your temples as your mind races with what if’s.

“Y/n?” Matt’s voice is quiet and hesitant.

“Yeah?” You lift your head and look at him.

“What are you… What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly. You fidget with the necklace Matt bought you. You glanced at his face, reading the expression. “Do you...?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “But… I know it’s ultimately your decision.”

You smile, moving your hand to his and intertwining fingers. “Thanks, Matt.”

“Can you tell me what you’re thinking?”

You shift in your seat, putting your free hand on your belly. “I just can’t believe it.”

Matt chuckles, “I know.”

“And I don’t know if I want to keep it,” you admit.

You watch as Matt’s Adams apple bobs slowly. You can tell he doesn’t like you that said that. But it was the truth. You couldn’t lie to him, not at a time like this.

“I want children,” you begin to say slowly. “With you.” You squeeze his hand assuringly. “I’m just not sure I’m ready.”

He nods, staying silent for a few moments. “I understand. I’m not sure if I’m ready, either, honestly.”

You go quiet for a moment, trying to think before you talk. You weren’t ready for a baby. Matt wasn’t ready for a baby.

Matt wasn’t going to stop being Daredevil, and you weren’t going to slow down on building and beginning to manage your own restaurant. Although, you two had been talking about marriage the other day and a little bit about kids. Maybe this was a sign from the universe.

“When will we ever be?” You ask.

Matt looks at you, raising his right brow and cocking his head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“You won’t being Daredevil and I have no plans to stop my career. Maybe we should have this baby.”

“I would love that,” Matt grins. “But what if it doesn’t work?”

You begin to think about life with a child for you and Matt. Even though you were a nervous wreck, the idea excited you. A little mini you and mini Matt running around, causing trouble like their father. Foggy and Karen being godparents. Family game nights and dressing up like Daredevil on Halloween. The kid going on their first date and Matt spying on them, the kid’s graduation and wedding. How amazing it’ll be to see your pride and joy walk down the aisle. And eventually being grandparents.

You began to fall in love with the idea of being a mother.

“The only way that will happen is if we let it. I don’t want to make any rash decisions, but right now, I’m kind of thinking of keeping it.”

“Me, too,” Matt nods. You can tell in his eyes that he’s already begun to grow attached to the baby.

“Again, let’s not decide definitively yet. Let’s talk about it more over the next few days. I’ll schedule an appointment with Doctor Foster and we can learn more about what life for us will be like the next ten months and on.” You say, making a clear plan in your head for the next few days.

“Sounds good.” Matt’s face lights up with a bright smile.

“What?” You can’t help but smile at him.

“I just… I can’t believe we might be having a baby. A mini Murdock,” he gushes.

“It’ll be a little devil baby,” you giggle.

“We should get a custom-made t-shirt for it saying that!”

“Definitely.”

Matt drops to his knees and puts his hand on your stomach. You laugh as he kisses your belly, putting his ear on it.

“Hi, baby. This is your dad. If we keep you, I’ll be so excited to meet you. You’re gonna be beautiful. Just like your mom.” Matt looks up at you, grinning from ear to ear.

You run your fingers through his hair, a small smile playing on your lips. Maybe you would decide to keep the baby.

————

Like and Reblog

taglist form

@arkofblake @myalupinblack @rintheemolion @hunnybunimdun @theunwcnted @mrs-dr-reid @yourbucky084 @justlenastuff @lawrencequeen @shifting2drs @lucyysthings @multifandomgirllol @philseyelash2009

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock x reader fluff #matt murdock fluff imagine #daredevil #marvel

[iamnmbr3]

Hey! This is a bizarre ask but hopefully a welcome one after *gestures at the destruction and fire*. I’m completely new to the Loki/thorki fandom, having essentially come in via the exit door by watching the Loki tv series first. I was honestly just watching it for junk value to have something in the background while I knit. However, when I realized that I didn’t understand anything by the middle of Ep. 1, I went back to watch Thor 1 so I could get what was going on. And HOLY SHIT I was utterly captivated by Loki’s character in the original movie, as well as by the Loki-Thor and Odin family dynamics. I’ve now watched through the films and have been increasingly disappointed by the portrayal of Loki (since Avengers 1 frankly) save a few glimmers of good characterization here and there.

I can’t believe that I’m getting myself into another queer coded (and now more than coded wtf) “villain” with a tragic backstory who’s done dirty by the fandom at large, but here we are! I’m also super into thorki because goddamn… they sure do have a Dynamic™.

So I guess my question is, what is actually good here? I feel like I’ve been trying to fight my way back to Kenneth Branagh!Loki, and have been largely unsuccessful within canon content. Do you have suggestions for a newcomer re: fics, fanart, and meta that actually treats Loki seriously? (and thorki as well?)

Hey! Welcome! Sorry about the mess *gestures at the garbage fire that is the TVA Show The Larry Show The "Loki" Show*

And this isn't a bizarre ask at all. It was really nice to receive actually! And yeah! I'm so glad you went back and watched the originals. The TV Show character is a completely new character played by the same actor who has nothing in common with the original character (who yes is absolutely fascinating and captivating and multilayered). Honestly I just think of the tv character as Larry, Loki's dumb lookalike cousin bc they have nothing in common lol. So glad the show led to you discovering good content...and thorki. And yeah Thor 2011 is amazing! It's so underrated. If you want meta relating to that and also just gushing about the film you can def check out my Thor 2011 tag.

My thorki tag of course has thorki stuff including art etc. I've also got an art tag which has both thorki and non-thorki works. If you want fic recs you can look in my fic rec tag which has a bunch of good stuff both thorki and gen.

Also here are some good thorki fics to start out with that I've really enjoyed. Most are ones I read early on when I just discovered the ship. Also @illwynd has a great thorki blog btw that you should def check out (and also their sideblog @throwbackthorki). Edit: I’ve also added some gen fic recs.

Thorki Fic Recs:

Chaos War by astolat (words: 34,203 | rating: E)

It was never easy to find Loki when he wanted to hide, but he wasn't doing a particularly good job of it at the moment. Probably he didn't think anyone from Asgard would be wasting their time hunting for him while the shining ones churned their way steadily through all the realm.

Loyalty at Any Price by seidrade (words: 22,663 | rating: E )

“This whole time, I’ve been searching the Nine Realms— alone— for answers to questions I barely know how to ask. I thought Heimdall at his watch, our father upon the throne, and most grievously… I thought you lost to me forever.” Thor’s resurgence of anger gives way to something like despair. He can’t tell whether he wants to pummel Loki into one giant bruise, or hold him and weep like a child.

When Thor returns to Asgard and exposes Loki’s deception, his demands for answers and Loki’s reluctance to give them soon bubble over into a cathartic confrontation.

Born to be Kings by Kadorienne (words: 66,618 | rating: T)

When the princes of Asgard made their ill-fated jaunt to Jotunheim, Odin arrived to fetch them before the frost giant grabbed Loki's arm. Odin was able to carry out his plan to make Loki his puppet king of Jotunheim. But how long will Loki remain an obedient puppet?

Yidrigar by epistolic (words: 5,174 | rating: M)

Sometimes I am envious, but never doubt that I love you.

The Heavy Crown by orphan_account (words: 10,024 | Rating: M )

Odin is dead. Loki must take up the mantle of King even as war threatens Asgard, Thor remains bereft of both Mjolnir and his immortality, and stress coupled with the knowledge of his heritage drives Loki to the brink.

No Common Thing by ravenbringslight (words: 8,283 | rating: E)

Loki follows Thor to a brothel and gets the shock of his life.

On the Eagle's Wings by illwynd (words: 2,975 | rating: T )

After Loki falls from the Bifrost, Thor begins to write him letters every day.

How long we were fooled by Ark (words: 28,227 | rating: E )

Loki is not a good man, he knows; there is something rotten in the core of him; and even a much better man might let Thor kiss him, since Thor still tastes of sizzling lightning, like gathering rain, like a desire so fierce and so awful to him that when released it could bring Asgard to its knees.

sunshine by thorvaenn (words: 18,257 | rating: E )

A post Infinity War fluffy piece.

Thor and Loki are among those who are trying to pick up the pieces, but must first fix each other.

Edit: And Some Gen Fic Recs too:

lose my idols to find my voice by Lise (words: 1,548 | rating: T)

This is no homecoming.

monstrare by Lise (words: 1,174 | T )

Loki is Asgard's second prince, brother to Thor, son of Odin and Frigga.

Isn't he?

farewell hope, and with hope farewell fear by Lise (words: 3,113 | rating: T)

Loki and the terrible, horrible, no good, very long delayed reckoning.

Five Times Loki Could Have Been A Villain by Kadorienne (words: 3,344 | rating: G | Character Death)

Five AUs where Loki is not a mere antagonist, but an actual villain.

He would have acted very differently.

When It Sings, When It Lies by dreamsthebirds (words: 14,145 | rating: G)

Thor AU, based on an awesome norsekink prompt for a scenario in which Heimdall doesn't open the Bifrost to Jotunheim, Odin doesn't ride to the rescue, and Loki is forced to take matters into his own hands.

Interdimensional journeys, shattering emotional revelations, and walking trees ensue.

Ichor in Violet by tirsynni (Words: 14,574 | rating: T)

When Thor learns that Loki can travel to other realms without Heimdall seeing, of course he convinces Loki to take them both to Jotunheim to hunt Frost Giants. There an accident unravels centuries of lies and threatens to unravel Loki, too.

The Sinking Feeling of Anticipation by JaggedCliffs (words: 8,624 | rating: G)

When Æsir come of age, they receive a gift from their parents, one meant to aid them in their adult lives. When a prince of Asgard comes of age, their gifts are not just for themselves, but for the realm.

Loki watched Thor receive Mjolnir at his coming of age ceremony – one of the greatest weapons in the realms, for one of its greatest warriors. Now, it's Loki's turn, and he knows Odin will grant him something just as magnificent.

Won't he?

Exsanguination by Lise (words: 8,610 | rating: G)

exsanguination /ex·san·gui·na·tion/ v.intr. To be drained of blood. (And all the rest.)

#asks #fic rec #thorki #thorki fic rec #thunderfrost #Loki #Thor #Marvel #MCU #loki fic rec #loki fic #loki tv series #loki show #Loki Series critical

[forever-rogue]

My lovely, when you get a chance and/or feel so inclined, id love you forever if youd write a part 2 to the story where Boba’s wife is prego, we need a little Fett heir to the throne lol. Ily! ❤️

I couldn’t resist! Enjoy! 

Can be read as a stand alone or part 2 to this!

Boba Fett x Fem!Reader; no warnings

Star Wars Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

You were tired, so tired. And why? You hadn't even done anything to cause you to experience the tiredness that was dragging you down. If anything, you should have been wide awake and ready to take on the day. But as soon as you'd gotten up and eaten breakfast, you were just about ready for a nap. 

That was after you'd rushed to the fresher in order to heave up everything you had just eaten.

Strange. It must have been something from breakfast - perhaps some of the fruit had been off or...something. There really wasn't anything that you thought it could be. But obviously something had disagreed with you. 

"What's wrong, Little One?" A concerned expression was on his face as he removed the helmet as he came back into your bedroom. He'd expected to find you flitting around the sprawling palace tending to odds and ins, but he hadn't spotted hide not hair of you all day, "I haven't seen you all day."

"Nothing," you offered up the best smile you could muster up as you looked up from the soft bed where you were currently buried under a mountain of blankets, "just taking a nap."

"You've been tired lately," a note of concern colored his tone as he came over and sat at the edge of bed. You made a small sound as you pouted at him, shrugging your shoulders lightly. He sighed before taking his hand and gently brushing the hair out of your face. He pressed the back of his hand to your forehead before following suit with your cheeks, "is everything alright?"

"Yes," you whispered softly, "I guess I'm just going through a phase. I'm sure its nothing - don't worry about me, Boba."

"I always worry," he inhaled and exhaled deeply before leaning down and pressing his forehead against yours, "I need to leave soon. I can stay if you prefer, if you're not feeling well."

"No, no, no," you insisted firmly, sitting up and fervently shaking your head, "Boba, you're not staying behind because of me. You've got to go and you will. Besides, someone needs to stay back and look over the place. It - I will be fine, I swear it."

"If you're sure-"

"Boba Fett," you tugged on his cowl, "You're going and that is final. Besides, I'll have Fennec here. Everything will be fine."

"I love you," he insisted as you beamed at him, "I'll be back soon. I won't be gone long."

"I'll hold you to it," you said as he kissed you gently, "promise me one thing?"

"Hmm?"

"Quit worrying so much!" you tapped his nose, attempting to make light of the situation, but Boba was not having it. It made you smile a little, however, to see this big, bad Mandalorian let you tease him in such a manner. Had it been anyone else in the galaxy, they would be dead on their feet within seconds, "Boba - for me? Try anyways?"

"I lost you once," he reminded you as a solemn look crossed your features, "I will not do it again."

"And I lost you too," he was not the only one who had suffered during your years of separation, "but we found our way back to each other. We always will - besides I'm not the one going out to hunt down quarry. I'll be here, safe and sound."

"Little One-"

"Boba Fett, are you forgetting that I once was the same as you?" you arched a brow as he huffed lightly and admitted silent defeat, "I am out of practice but I won't be alone. Now go and get ready - the sooner you leave, the sooner you'll be back."

»»————-　♡　————-««

But then a week passed. And another. And then before you knew it, you were approaching three weeks without Boba. You knew he was fine, as you required, maybe even begged, for him to communicate with you and keep you in the loop as much as possible when he was gone.

But still - it wasn't the same as having him at home and within arms length.

Kriff. Hopefully he'd be back soon. Maybe -

But you didn't have enough time to think further into any sort of scheme as the contents of your stomach churned and you ran to the nearest the fresher. 

Fennec had been looking for you, concerned at this point for your health as well. You hadn't been looking well for weeks and she was sure something was up.

"Hey," she said gently with a rap of her knuckles on the door. You sighed heavily with a wipe to your mouth as you sat down on the floor. The sniper, small but fierce, came in and sat next to you, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze, "are you okay? This has been going on for weeks."

"I dunno, Fen," you admitted, "I think its just some bug but I can't shake. I'm sure it'll get better soon."

"And I'm sure you should go and see a healer," she was insistent and while she had inklings of suspicion, she wasn't going to mention those just yet, "or I'll be forced to tell Fett.”

“You’re worrying over nothing,” you insisted with a small roll of your eyes. Sometimes you didn’t know who was worse - Fennec or Boba. Surely one had to have learned from the other as they became increasingly protective over you, “it’s fine, Fen.”

“It’s my job to worry about you,” she reminded you softly, “otherwise Fett will have my head. Besides, I happen to care about you as well. Please go to the healer this afternoon and just get a check up. What can it hurt?”

“Fine,” you agreed, begrudgingly, crossing your arms over your chest, “fine. But when nothing is wrong, I will gladly tell you both I told you so.”

“We’ll see about that, Princess,” Fennec gently pushed your hair out of your face as you huffed lightly. You felt more like a child than a respected adult at that moment.

»»————-　♡　————-««

As you made your way back home - the newly redone and revamped palace that was welcoming to all - an odd sense settled over you. You felt...a million different things all at once, but none of them seemed real. A few tears had run down your cheeks as you almost laughed to yourself. You certainly weren’t going to be able to tell them I told you so after this. 

And yet you didn’t mind - not at all. In fact, among all the worries and fears that rushed through your body, you were excited. Thrilled even. Who would have thought? 

Marching down the stairs to the throne room, you expected to find Fennec to share your news with her, but instead you found a different sight. One that sent a spike of excitement flowing through your blood.

“Boba!” you hopped down the last few steps and bounded over to him. He immediately looked up from what he was working on, a smile gracing his features as he held his arms open to you. You almost bowled him over in your excitement, a feat compared to how much of a tank he was in the armor, “my love - you’re home!”

“As are you,” he kissed the top of your head before putting his hands on either side of your face, “Fennec told me you went to see the healer. Is everything alright?”

“Yes, but it can wait - how was your trip?”

“It was fine,” he gave you a curious look, “just business as usual. Now tell me - what aren’t you telling me?”

“You weren’t hurt or anything were you?” you looked him up and down, checking his face to make sure there were no new marks or injuries before following suit with the parts of him that were exposed to you. He scoffed lightly as you fawned over him, but deep down the big bad bounty hunter lavished in your praise, “no mishaps?”

“No mishaps, no injuries,” he promised as you peppered a few kisses across his cheeks, “out with it, Little One. I know you’re hiding something, you always get like this.”

“Hmmm,” you mused as you took a step backwards and tried your best to keep from brimming over with excitement, “and you are always a big worry wart over nothing, my love.”

“Only when it comes to you,” he insisted with a waggle of his finger, “now out with it, what’s going on.”

“Remember how I was feeling before you left?” you asked and he nodded with a grimace, “well I haven’t been feeling better-”

“You told me you had,” he accused as you gave him a sheepish look, “were you lying to me?”

“Maybe…” you plastered on the most innocent expression you could, “but none of it matters-”

“Of course it does!”

“Hush,” you held a finger up to his lips in order to silence him, “lemme finish. Well, this morning I still wasn’t feeling better, and Fennec insisted I go to the healer. She insisted and said you would too.”

“Of course I would, I’ve been telling you since -”

“I know, I know, I know,” you rushed out the words, very fiber of your being trembling with excitement, “I found out the reason I haven’t been well.”

“Is it a bug?” he asked as you shook your head, causing him to tilt his head to side in confusion, “if it’s not...what could it possibly be?”

“I’m pregnant,” you blurted out excitedly, unable to hold back any longer. Boba’s face shifted through about a million expressions as he looked at you expectantly and you nodded. A smile tugged on the corners of his mouth before he pulled you into his arms, clutching you against him as tightly as he possibly could, “we’re having a baby, Boba!”

“A baby,” he back as he studied your face, gently wiping away at the tears that had rolled down your cheeks while his own eyes glistened as well, “Little One - cyare - this is far better than I could have expected.”

“I know,” you agreed as he kissed you, “I never thought...it all makes sense now. The fatigue, not being able to keep food down - it’s so obvious. I don’t know why I didn’t think of this sooner.”

“A baby,” he was incredulous, unable to form a coherent thought at the exciting news. He never thought he would get this - you, a baby, an empire, anything - but it was, all coming to bless him at once. He had never been more thankful than in that moment. He looked down at your stomach, where there was still no evidence of your pregnancy just yet, but sighed contentedly before placing a gentle hand over it. He couldn’t wait to see you grow round with your child - his child - as time went on. If you thought he was protective over you before, then you were in for something else. Now that he had everything he could possibly ever want, he was never letting it go. 

“You’re - you’re happy right, my love?” you asked as he met your eyes, lips trembling as they were tugged up lightly in the corners. Touching his cheek lightly, he keened into your touch before you gave him a gentle kiss, “I know we didn’t...plan this, but I’m happy.”

“Me too,” he promised as he wrapped you into another warm hug, this time being gentle with your stomach as you laughed, “I am happier than any man deserves to be. All thanks to you, Little One. I love you.”

“I love you too Boba,” you agreed, “I am so happy, so so happy. But there is one thing…”

“You’re not going to be able to call me Little One much longer,” you grinned as you put on your belly, “not once the real little one comes around.”

“Nonsense,” he insisted softly, “you’ll always be my Little One, Princess. Always.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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#boba fett #boba fett x fem!reader #boba fett x reader #boba fett x you #the Mandalorian #temuera morrison

[pazumane-archive]

Closing Time - Asahi x Reader

Characters: Asahi Azumane, female reader, original female character, small Taichi cameo

Relationships: Asahi Azumane x Reader

Genre: Fluff, hurt/comfort if you squint, SFW but 16+ please

Warnings: Alcohol, general drunken shenanigans, emetophobia (mentions of vomit), bad language

WC: 6.4k

Author’s Note: Hi everyone! This is a totally self-indulgent bedtime-scenario-type story because there is simply not enough Asahi/Reader content out there and I adore him. It’s also my first time writing in 2nd person, so PLEASE feel free to send me any feedback, please just be kind :) I really don’t like to use y/n, so I only used it a couple times towards the end when I wasn’t sure what else to do lol

The preview begins with the bolded text below and fic continues after the cut :)

Reblogs appreciated! <3

You weren’t planning on getting this drunk. But by the time it got to be about 11:30, you didn’t know what else to do. You had put so much effort and energy into making yourself look nice just for your date not to show up. Your roommate was out of town, so instead of going home and pouting, you figured you might as well have some fun while you were out. But you’ve never been good at exercising restraint, and the fact that you were alone wasn’t doing you any favors. But by closing time had rolled around, you could hardly see straight. You needed help, so you call upon an old friend.

“Do you have anybody you can call for a ride?” Kawanishi asks.

Kawanishi’s the bartender at this izakaya, and over the course of the night, you spent most of the time talking his ear off. He’s nice enough, and held pleasant conversation for the last few hours. He says he used to be a volleyball player, and had even played on the same team as a one of the guys on the Japan National Team. You forget to ask him which school he attended, but he probably was tired of talking to your drunk ass anyway, so you don’t bother asking. “Yeah,” you say, digging in your purse for your phone. “Are you sure? I can call a cab for you if you need it,” he offers. “Nah,” you say, hiccupping between words. “I’ll call somebody. Thank you though.” “No problem,” he says. “Just try to make it quick.” You scroll through your phone, trying to figure out who to call. Your roommate’s out of town visiting her parents, so she’s a no-go. You could call Kokomi. Honestly, she would deserve the 2AM phone call for setting you up on this failed blind date in the first place. Ever since you moved to Tokyo last month, she was constantly trying to set you up with somebody, whether it was a friend, a coworker, or some rando that she had met on the train. Unfortunately, all of them were jerks. And this one was the biggest jerk of all. You silently curse yourself for going along with her antics again.

“He’s great, you’ll love him!” “You said that about the last three guys you tried to set me up with, Kokomi.” “Please!! You’ll never know if you don’t even give him a chance.”

Well, you gave him a chance. And it ended up with you all alone, drunk as hell in an unfamiliar part of the city. You dial Kokomi’s number, but it goes straight to voicemail. “Bitch,” you mutter. You unlock your phone again and look through to find somebody that might be able to take you home. You scroll back to the top of your contact list, and your eyes settle on another name. He lives just a few blocks away, and knowing him, he’s probably awake working on something anyway. You click on his contact and wait for him to answer.

*

The exhaustion’s starting to get to him. It’s the weekend and he can afford to stay up an extra couple of hours to finish this design, but the combination of fatigue and frustration are taking over. He sets down his pencil and moves towards his bed, until his cell starts to buzz. He glances over at the clock on the wall. 1:49 AM.

Who could possibly be calling at this hour?

Asahi picks up his phone, surprised to see your name on the screen. His heart skips a beat in his chest, both from excitement and nervousness. Aside from his teammates, you’re one of the only people he bothered to keep in contact with after high school. The two of you had even met up a few times since you moved to the city, but he never would have expected you to call at this hour unless… unless something is wrong. “Hey you, what’s up?” He says, choking back a yawn. “Hiiiii Asahiiii!  I tried to call Kokomi but she didn’t answer her phone… could you come pick me up?” Your voice is thick and your words are almost unintelligible as you speak. It’s obvious that you’re far from sober. “Where are you?” Asahi asks, failing to mask the anxiety in his voice. “Are you okay? Are you safe?” “M’fine,” you slur. “But I…” Suddenly the call drops. Asahi calls you back in a panic, his heart racing as he waited for you to answer. You could be in danger and he’d be powerless to help you. He doesn’t even know where you are. “Hello?” A man’s voice comes through the speaker. “Who are you? Where is she?” Asahi asks frantically. “Relax, man. I’m just the bartender,” he says. “Look, your friend’s next to me, but she’s on the verge of passing out. Can you come get her before she pukes all over my bar? She’s at Zoetrope. You know where that is?” “Of course, I’m on my way now! I’ll be there in ten minutes,” Asahi says, grabbing his apartment keys and putting on a pair of shoes. He’s out the door almost immediately.

*

Kawanishi presses your phone back into your hands. Your head is spinning so fast that you struggle to keep your eyes open. “Is he coming?” you ask. “Yeah, he’s on the way,” Kawanishi says. “He’ll be here soon. Now do me a favor, don’t get this drunk the next time you come into my izakaya or I’ll have to kick you out.” “You’re kicking me out???” “Only if you start throwing up,” he says under his breath. “I’m not going to throw up!” you exclaim, suddenly becoming very aware of the churning in your stomach. You grumble, slumping over the bar. You squeeze your eyes shut, the spinning in your head only getting worse with every breath you take. You feel like you’re going to die, and honestly, between the embarrassment of being stood up and the wave of nausea coming over you, you’re ready to welcome that death with open arms. “Hey!” Kawanishi says, smacking the bar next to your head. “Your friend’s going to be here soon, don’t fall asleep or I’ll throw you out on the street myself.” “I’m sorry, Kawanishi-san.” You sit up slowly and cradle your head in your hands once more, trying to make the world stop spinning.

Please get here soon, Asahi.

*

Asahi sprints down the street as fast as he can towards the izakaya. He’s sure that he looks suspicious running down the street alone at night, but he doesn’t care. You’re in trouble, and he’s the only person that can help you. He finally makes it to the bar and hastily pulls the door open. You’re dressed beautifully, and your makeup and hair are exquisitely done. Unfortunately, the way you’re slumped over the bar makes it obvious that something’s wrong. He’s not sure what happened, but whatever it was, it must have been rough. The bartender gently helps you out of your seat, and Asahi can’t help but think that he looks very familiar. You straighten up and as soon as you make eye contact with Asahi, you perk up. “Asahi-san!” you exclaim, rushing towards him and almost falling over. You crush him in an unexpectedly tight hug. “Long time no see, big guy!” “I saw you three days ago,” he says under his breath. You continue babbling unintelligibly, and Asahi looks up at the bartender. “Did she close out her tab?” Asahi asks. “I took care of it already,” the bartender replies. “Please just make sure she gets home okay. She’s had a rough night.” “Yeah, of course,” Asahi says. “Thanks for helping her out.” “No problem.” Asahi peels your arms off him and starts to nudge you towards the door. Just before the two of you leave, Asahi stops and turns back to the bartender. “Have we met before?” he asks. “I played for Shiratorizawa. Didn’t think I’d see you again, Karasuno Samurai.” Asahi frowns slightly. He hasn’t heard that nickname high school, and it’s weird hearing it again now. “Right,” he says. “Well, thanks again. Have a good night.” Asahi leads you out of the bar and down the sidewalk. You hold tightly to his arm, stumbling over yourself. He braces you against his side, and you take this opportunity to tease him a little bit. “Do you like my outfit, Asahi-san?” you ask, pressing into his side. “Yeah, it’s really nice!” he answers nervously, turning his head to hide the blush creeping up his cheeks. He’s not lying – you look beautiful, both your top and your skirt accentuating your curves in all the right places. But it would be wrong to say anything more than that while you’re in this state. That wouldn’t be fair to either of you. He brusquely clears his throat and keeps walking as soon as the light signals that you can cross. “I dressed up extra nice tonight, but it didn’t even fucking matter,” you grumble, your voice breaking slightly. Asahi either doesn’t hear you, or does hear you and decides not to say anything. “I’m soooo glad you’re here,” you say, drawing out your words even longer than you were a minute ago. “I’m sorry, this is super embarrassing! I should’ve figured this out on my own.” “It’s okay,” Asahi says. “How long have you been in Tokyo again?” “A month? I think?” “Exactly,” he says. “You probably don’t know your way around that much. I’d feel terrible if I wasn’t able to help you find your way home.” “Meh,” you say. “I’ve had the worst night of my fucking life, so maybe it would be better if I passed out in a ditch somewhere.” “Do you want to talk about it?” Asahi asks. “No,” you answer quickly. “Okay.” You start blathering again and Asahi has to practically drag you down the street behind him. The station just past his apartment has a train that can drop you right by your building. He can just take a cab back after he gets you home. He considers inviting you stay the night at his place since it’s right there, but he’s afraid of being weird, so he doesn’t say anything. The two of you come to a stop at the train station… which is closed. “I’m sorry,” Asahi says remorsefully. “I guess the train stopped running at midnight. I’ll call you a cab.” He goes to pull his phone out of his pocket, but you grab his hand before he can. “Can I stay at your place tonight?” you ask sheepishly. “I… my roommate is out of town. And I’m really not doing good right now. I just really don’t want to be alone.” Despite how out of it you’ve been since he picked you up, Asahi sees nothing but complete sincerity in your eyes. Tonight must have been really rough. “Are you sure?” he asks. “I’ll just sleep on the couch- or a futon if you have one!” you say, nodding. “Okay.” Asahi turns back towards his apartment and you follow closely behind him, not letting go of his hand the entire time.

*

Asahi helps you across the threshold of his apartment and sits you down on a chair by the door. “Asahi-san, you’re so handsome with your hair down like that,” you say, reaching up to twirl a finger in his long chestnut tresses. “And you’re loopy,” Asahi mutters, disentangling your fingers from his hair. Once again, he finds himself hiding a blush. He’s not used to being showered with compliments, and he knows you wouldn’t be saying this stuff if you were sober. He kicks off his shoes and kneels down in front of you, helping you take yours off. “How are you feeling?” he asks you. “Can I get you some water or a some–” “Why didn’t you ask me out when we were in high school?” you ask suddenly. “I think I made it pretty obvious that I had a crush on you. It’s all I could think about when you were holding my hand back there.” “I – I, uh,” Asahi stammers. You burst out laughing, startling Asahi. It’s that same boisterous laugh you’ve had for as long as he could remember knowing you. You were always self-conscious about it in high school, but your laugh has always been one of Asahi’s favorite things about you. Despite the fact that it’s at his expense, he’s glad to see your mood improve. Asahi considers your question for a moment. He really liked you too back then, and everyone knew it. Suga and Daichi constantly teased him for it.

So why hadn’t he asked you out back then?

Well, for a number of reasons. He spent so much of his third year focused on volleyball that he didn’t have the mental or emotional capacity for much else. He hadn’t even planned on going back to school after graduation until Nishinoya helped convince him to pursue his passions. He felt directionless, and he didn’t want to burden anybody else with his indecision. But most importantly, he was scared you’d reject him. Suga was right. He really was a coward. He’d dated a few people since high school graduation, but none of them made him feel the way you did, and they didn’t treat him as well as you would have. Which begs the question – why hasn’t he asked you out since you moved to Tokyo? He pushes the thought to the back of his mind. This isn’t the kind of conversation to be having when you aren’t even able to form a coherent sentence. Asahi’s thoughts are interrupted by your hand on his shoulder and a loud hiccup. “I should wash my face. Can I wash my face?” “Sure,” Asahi says, helping you stand up. You stumble forward, but he catches you easily and pulls you back to your feet. He quietly leads you to the bathroom and sits you down on the edge of the bathtub. “I’m sorry,” you say. “I’m a mess.” “No, you’re not. Hold on a second,” he says, opening the drawer under the sink. He pulls out a small package of makeup wipes and takes one out. He kneels in front of you and begins wiping the makeup off your face. “I know they’re not great for your skin,” he says. “But it’s better than nothing, right?” “Why do you even have those?” you ask between hiccups. “Do you wear makeup? I mean, it’s obviously fine if you do, but it doesn’t really seem like your thing.” “I don’t, but you never know when they’ll come in handy! I do work with a lot of makeup artists,” he says, somewhat defensively. You get the sense that he’s lying about something, but Asahi changes the subject before you can probe him any further. “So what were you doing there by yourself?” he asks. “It’s not safe to be alone so late at night.” Clearly this was the wrong thing to ask. All the negative emotions and thoughts you were having all even spring to the forefront of your mind, and you start to cry. Asahi starts apologizing profusely, but you wave him off. “It’s fine,” you sniffle, wiping a tear away from your cheek. “Kokomi was trying to set me up with one of her friends, but he never showed up.” Asahi sits back on his heels. Kokomi is another girl from Karasuno that ended up in Tokyo. She wasn’t in the same class as him, but he remembers how loud she always was in the hallways. Honestly, both of you were always loud, but you’ve always been much more considerate of others than Kokomi ever was. “Shit,” he mumbles. “That really sucks. I’m sorry.” “Yeah. It does suck.” Asahi grabs another wipe and asks you to close your eyes. You do as he says, and he lightly wipes off your eye makeup. He’s worked with enough models to recognize that you’re wearing false eyelashes, so he gently pulls those off too. You feel yourself start to wobble on the edge of the tub, so you grip his arm to steady yourself. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. “It’s okay,” he says. “You don’t need to keep apologizing to me.” “Do you think there’s something wrong with me?” you ask suddenly. “Wait, what?” “I just… this keeps happening to me. Everyone always says that it’s because they’re not the right person for me, but it’s starting to feel like there’s just something wrong with me instead,” you say, choking back a sob. “I know I just moved here, but I’m just so lonely. I hate feeling like I’m not good enough.” Asahi tenderly wipes a tear from your cheek and cups your face in both hands. “Hey, look at me. There is nothing wrong with you,” he says sincerely. “That guy is an idiot and a jerk. If he had any idea how extraordinary you are, he never would’ve done that to you.” You can’t bring yourself to look him in the eyes. You don’t feel like you deserve to be spoken to like this – with such genuine kindness and sincerity. Asahi makes you feel so good. So special. He always has. And he’s just so… tender, especially for somebody who looks as intimidating as he does. You wonder if those feelings from high school ever truly went away. You sit up straighter and try to smile at him, but your stomach flips unexpectedly and violently. “Asahi-san?” you ask, gripping his shoulder tightly. “Yeah?” he replies. “Toilet.” Asahi moves out of the way as fast as possible. You hunch over the rim and retch into the toilet bowl. Asahi quickly scoops up your hair and holds it behind your head as you throw up. “Please, just leave me,” you mutter. “I’m gonna fucking die here.” “I’m not going to leave you here and you’re not going to die,” Asahi says, gingerly picking up the last loose strands laying on your neck and holding them back with the rest of your hair. Your back tenses up again before you begin heaving once more. Asahi tucks his nose into the collar of his shirt, careful to make sure that he’s out of your field of vision. He wants to be there for you but he had a weak stomach himself and the sight and smell of somebody else’s vomit is something he knows he won’t be able to handle. You mumble weak apologies between hacks, but Asahi just ignores them and rubs your back gently. After what feels like an eternity, the churning in your stomach finally stops and you reach up towards the flush handle. The exhaustion in your body and heart finally begin to catch up with you, and your hand falls back to your side. “I got it. Do you think you’re done?” Asahi asks, coaxing you back up into a seated position. You nod, too tired to try to speak. Asahi quickly tugs his shirt back down from his face before you can see and closes the toilet lid. “I’m sorry,” you mumble. “Don’t be,” Asahi says, flushing the toilet. “I’m your friend. I want to help you. And I’ve already told you that you don’t need to apologize to me.” Asahi helps you sit on the top of the toilet and rises to his feet. “Don’t go anywhere,” he says, scurrying out of the room. Although your eyes are closed, you still feel your body swaying. More than anything, you just want to go to sleep. Asahi pads back into the room and presses a wooden cup into your hands. “Drink this,” he says, turning on the faucet. Even though drinking something is the last thing you want to be doing right now, you go ahead and lift the cup to your open mouth. Cold water passes your lips and washes away some of the disgusting taste in your mouth. It feels gross, but you force yourself to drink all of it. Asahi takes the cup from your hand and turns the faucet back off. You flinch at the feeling of a damp washcloth on your face. “It’s okay,” Asahi says gently, cradling your chin with his free hand and angling your face up. “Just cleaning you up a little.” You murmur in acknowledgement and Asahi continues to wipe your face down. You almost fall asleep sitting on his toilet, but he gently shakes you to keep you awake. “Stay with me for another minute,” he says softly. “You can go to sleep soon. You’re gonna be just fine. I promise.” His words and his voice are so sweet that you want to cry. A couple rogue tears drip from your eyes and onto his hands. “I’m sorry,” you say once more. Asahi sets the washcloth on the counter and starts to pull you to your feet. You struggle to stay on your feet, so instead, he carefully scoops you into his arms and carries you out the bathroom. You don’t care where you go, you just need to sleep. Asahi’s pretty certain you’re asleep by the time he deposits you on his mattress. Your chest rises and falls slowly as he pulls his duvet over you. He begins to make his way to the couch, but stops when he feels you grab his hand. “Please don’t go, Asahi-san,” you whisper. “Please.” You tug harder at his fingers and he knows he can’t refuse you. He ends up sitting on the edge of the bed holding your hand until you fall asleep.

*

As soon as your quiet snores permeate the silence, Asahi untangles his fingers from yours. He brushes a loose strand of hair out of your face and he can’t help but let his eyes linger on your sleeping face for just a moment. The moonlight trickling through the window illuminates your hair and casts a silvery glow on your skin. Despite the awful night you’ve had, you look absolutely radiant. He feels himself blushing again, but he takes some comfort in the fact that he doesn’t have to try and hide it this time. Not while you’re fast asleep in his bed. He’s far too scared to admit it, even to himself, but he’s fantasized about falling asleep next to you many times before. But in those fantasies you weren’t drunk and crying over another man. Asahi sighs, stands up, and moves over to the dresser as quietly as he can. After setting a few things out for you, he goes into the bathroom, gets ready for bed and heads to the couch for the night.

*

By the time you wake up in the morning, you feel like you’re going to die. You can’t remember what exactly happened the previous night. The last thing you remember clearly was talking to the bartender about high school volleyball, of all things. Your head’s pounding, and your stomach aches painfully, screaming at you to please eat something. You don’t open your eyes, fearing that it would somehow trigger another round of vomiting. Eventually, you force yourself into a seated position and open your eyes. The bedroom you’re in is small, but pretty well-decorated. It’s decently tidy. The only mess is a few crumpled up clothing designs discarded on the floor next to the trash bin.

Designs? Did that mean?

You’re at Asahi’s apartment. In his bed. Your eyes widen in panic.

  What happened last night?

You’re still wearing the clothes that you wore to the bar last night. And there’s no evidence of him ever being in bed with you. You reach over towards your phone, which has been graciously plugged in for you and set on the bedside table. That’s when you notice the note along with a sleeve of crackers and a glass of ginger ale.

Good morning!

There’s a set of clothes you can wear at the foot of the bed and a spare toothbrush in the bathroom. Feel free to take a shower if you want. Extra towels are underneath the sink. Please have something to eat and drink too. You’ll feel better if you do.

-Asahi

P.S. Please don’t feel bad. It’s okay.

You grab a few of the crackers from the bedside table and eat them, washing them down with the ginger ale.

Why does Asahi have to be so damn considerate? The whole situation is so embarrassing.

You contemplate just grabbing your phone and getting the hell out of his apartment, but you’re not going to pass up the opportunity to shower. You finish the last of the crackers, chug down the ginger ale, and grab the spare clothes at the end of the bed. You turn the doorknob as silently as you can and awkwardly creep down the hall towards the bathroom, stopping briefly to peek in the living room. Asahi’s fast asleep on the couch, clad only in pajama pants and a pair of fuzzy socks. His hair is down and messily splayed across the throw pillow he’s resting his head on. Quiet snores pass his lips. He looks cute. Your eyes trail from his face and down to his stomach. Despite quitting volleyball after high school, he seems to have mostly maintained his athletic form, except for a tiny little layer of pudge on his lower stomach. The corners of your lips twitch up into a smile, until that little voice in the back of your mind reminds you of your place.

Quit staring, you perv! You need to get out of here!

You hurriedly continue down the hallway and jump into the shower as soon as you get into the bathroom. You think that maybe if you clean up fast enough, you can get out of Asahi’s apartment before he wakes up. However, as soon as you step into the shower, all worries about rushing out disappear into the back of your mind. You bask in the hot water, the steam clearing your sinuses and relieving some of the pain in your head. You silently thank the gods that Asahi actually uses conditioner, and not just 3-in-1 like most of the other men you were previously…. acquainted with. Although, it makes sense to you that somebody with hair like Asahi’s would have a strict haircare routine. As you shower, fragmented memories of last night start to come back to you.

Being stood up at the bar. Calling Asahi for help. Puking your guts out in his bathroom. Him carrying you into his room and laying you down on his bed. Him staying by your side until you fell asleep. You wishing he would’ve crawled into bed with you and held you through the night… Wait, what was that last part?

As soon as you’re done rinsing the conditioner from your hair, you step out of the shower and swiftly towel off. You find the spare toothbrush Asahi mentioned, take it out of the packaging, and brush your teeth with his toothpaste. The dry, gross feeling in your mouth is quickly replaced with a minty fresh taste. You slip on the sweatpants and t-shirt that Asahi left for you and dry your hair. Thankfully, Asahi isn’t as huge as most people make him out to be, so while the clothes he left out are a bit big on you, you’re not drowning in them. You’ll just bring them back some other day. You start combing through your hair, and that’s when you hear it – the sound of somebody padding around in the apartment. Shit. Once the footsteps quiet down, you rush out of the bathroom and towards the front door. Asahi eyes you as you scoop up your shoes, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Good morning!” he says kindly. “How are you feeling?” “I’m so sorry Azumane-san, it won’t happen again!” you say as you throw open the door and rush into the hallway. “Hold on, wait up!” he says as you pull the door closed behind you. You run all the way to the stairs at the end of the hallway and go to call Kokomi for a ride home. That’s when you realize that your phone is still plugged into the wall in Asahi’s room. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You turn around and trudge back towards his apartment. Before you can even knock, the door opens slowly. Asahi stands there in just his pajama pants, holding your phone out to you. “You shouldn’t leave without your phone,” he says. You thank him and take your phone, a blush creeping up your cheeks. You try not to stare at his bare chest, already feeling like a creep for ogling him while he was sleeping. “Your clothes are still in the bathroom, too,” he says. “I can go get them for you. Or I can just wash them and give them back to you another time if you want to leave.” “No, that’s okay,” you say, covering your flushing cheeks with the collar of his shirt. “I’ll get them. Can I come in?” “Of course.” Asahi steps out of your way and you head straight for the bathroom, avoiding looking in his eyes. Asahi never gets angry, and you know he wouldn’t be mad at you over something like this, but a lingering sense of shame still washes over you. You scoop up your clothes and leave the bathroom. As soon as you cross the threshold into the living room, the smell of coffee and frying fish washes over you. Asahi stands in the kitchen, cooking breakfast. In the time that you were in the bathroom, he put on a Black Jackals sweatshirt and threw his hair into a loose bun. “Do you want a cup of coffee?” he asks, smiling at you and pouring his own cup. “It’ll help with the hangover.” You stand there and ponder his offer for a moment. Sensing your hesitancy, Asahi suddenly turns back to the stove and mumbles something that you can’t quite make out. “What did you say?” you ask. Asahi rubs the back of his neck, a nervous habit he’s had since you were kids. “I don’t mean to pressure you to stay or anything! I just thought it might help for you to have something more than crackers and ginger ale.” “You’ve done plenty to help me since last night,” you say. “But I’ll take that coffee if the offer is still on the table.” “It is!” Asahi says a little too enthusiastically for his own good. You can’t help but smirk as you take your seat at the kitchen table. Asahi pours you a cup of coffee and slides you a bowl of the rice and fish he made. You thank him quietly and start to eat. He slides into the chair across from you and eats his own breakfast, eyeing you carefully. “What?” you ask after catching him staring. “Since when have you ever called me Azumane-san?” he asks. “I don’t know,” you mumble into your coffee mug. “I didn’t think we reverted back from first name basis,” he says. “I thought we knew each other better than that.” “I don’t know,” you say, a devilish smile crossing your face. “Care to explain why you actually had those makeup wipes in your bathroom drawer? I doubt your makeup artists are coming over to your apartment.” Now it’s Asahi’s turn to blush again. “My ex-girlfriend left them here,” he says. “Felt like a waste to just throw them out.” “Ex-girlfriend?!” you exclaim suddenly, startling Asahi and causing him to drop the wipe on the floor. “I didn’t know you were seeing somebody!” “Yeah,” he says, throwing the wipe in the trash and grabbing a fresh one. “We broke up a while before you moved to the city. She left a bunch of her stuff here and refused to come pick it up. I think she was just too embarrassed to see me again. I got rid of most of it a while ago, but I kept some of the more… uh, utilitarian things.” “I’m sorry,” you say sincerely. “Why did you break up?” Asahi feels a slight pang in his chest. He met his last girlfriend through his job. She was nice enough, and things seemed like they were going okay until he showed up at her apartment to surprise her for their 6 month anniversary, only to find another man in her bed. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” you say. “It’s fine. She cheated on me with some other guy,” he says, his expression darkening. “I think they’re engaged now.” “Shit,” you say. “What a bitch.” “Woah, settle down, it’s okay –” “No, it’s not,” you say firmly. “You deserve someone way better than that. Somebody that treats you with the love and respect that you deserve.” Asahi knows you’re right, but he doesn’t really want to press it. That whole mess had done a number on his mental health, and he really doesn’t want to burden you with his emotional baggage. He adjusts his glasses again and forces a smile. “You know, you should really take your own advice,” he says. You try to think back on what you had said to him last night. The details are fuzzy, but you remember crying. A lot. Instead of answering him, you shovel down the last of the rice and fish. “Thank you for the meal,” you say. Asahi smiles and nods at you before beginning to clear the dishes away. You stand up and stop him, insisting that you clean up yourself. As you finish drying the bowls, your phone buzzes. You check it, only to see a handful of missed texts from Kokomi.

Ono Kokomi [8:32} Hey!! Sorry I missed your call. How was he?  (°◡°♡) [9:14] That good?  (^.~)☆ [9:18] Or that bad?! (;;;*_*) [9:57] HELLO?? (ﾉಥ益ಥ)ﾉ [10:32] ARE YOU ALIVE?!?!?!  〣( ºΔº )〣

You roll your eyes and quickly type out your response.

Y/N [10:33] Yeah, no thanks to you. (￢_￢;)

Ono Kokomi [10:34] Was it really that bad?

Y/N [10:34] He didn’t even show up. (╥_╥) [10:34] Azumane picked me up at 2 AM because I was too drunk to go home alone. I stayed the night at his place. [10:34] Speaking of which, can you come pick me up? Not really in a state to take the train and I think you owe me one.

Ono Kokomi [10:35] (⊙_⊙) [10:35] Spill. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Y/N [10:36] There’s nothing to spill. I threw up in his bathroom and he slept on the couch. Can you just answer my question please? (҂` ﾛ ´)凸

Ono Kokomi [10:36] Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’m on my way, lovebird. (￣ε￣＠)

“Everything okay?” Asahi asks. “Yeah,” you say, slipping your phone back into your pocket. “Kokomi’s going to come pick me up.” “Are you sure? I can take you if you want,” he offers. “Yeah, she’s already on her way,” you say, setting the bowl down and turning to face him. “Besides, you’ve done more than enough for me already over the last twelve hours.” You silently pick up your things and walk towards the door. Asahi rises from his chair and awkwardly clears his throat. “Do you have all your stuff?” You nod and smile. Before you open the door, you approach him and wrap your arms around his waist. He shyly hugs you back, hoping you can’t hear the rapid pounding in his chest. “Thank you, Asahi,” you whisper. “You’re amazing.” You let go first and leave his apartment quietly. As soon as the door closes, Asahi walks back into the living room and flops down on the couch. He covers his face with his hands and groans. This morning was almost too much for him – seeing you in his clothes, eating breakfast together, you hugging him before you left. It was all so painfully domestic, and he wishes it didn’t have to end. If only he wasn’t such a coward, he would’ve asked you to stay longer. He doesn’t know how long he lays there until he finally decides to get moving for the day and finish that piece he was working on when you called last night. He checks his phone and sees your name pop up on the screen.

Y/N [11:00] I’m home. Thanks again for babysitting me last night. Whatever did I do to deserve you as my guardian angel? ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ✩‧₊˚ [11:00] Or was that Noya-san? I forget. (^ω~)

Azumane Asahi [11:01] Lol. You’re welcome. And that was what we called Noya in our club days, but I don’t mind you calling me that too (* ^ ω ^)

Y/N [11:03] Let me make it up to you. [11:04] Come over for dinner tomorrow night?

Asahi almost drops his phone on his face. His fingers fumble as he types his response. He waits a moment before sending it, rereading it ten times to make sure he doesn’t come across as desperate.

Azumane Asahi [11:07] I’d love to. Do you want me to bring anything?

Y/N [11:08] That’s not necessary. I owe you a nice dinner. [11:09] You still like tonkotsu ramen?

Azumane Asahi [11:10] I do!

Y/N [11:11] It’s a date! See you tomorrow! (☞°ヮ°)☞ ☜(°ヮ°☜)

*

“You said nothing happened last night,” Kokomi says, staring over your shoulder at your phone. “Nothing happened, Kokomi. Now leave me alone,” you snap, tossing one of your throw pillows at her. She deftly catches it and plops down on the couch next to you. “Please,” she says, swatting you with the pillow. “The only reason you two haven’t gotten together is because you’re the densest people on the planet. I bet he’s flopped down on his couch right now thinking about how he doesn’t even want to wait that long to see you.” “Shut up,” you grumble. Kokomi’s phone rings and she quickly checks it. “Anyway, I have to go meet Kaito,” she says. “Got to go. Let me know how your date goes!” She waves and practically skips out the front door. You lay down and start making a shopping list for ingredients for tonkatsu ramen. As soon as you’re done, you set your phone down and cross your arms over your face.

“I bet he’s flopped down on his couch right now thinking about how he doesn’t even want to wait that long to see you.” No, Kokomi. That’s me.

#asahi azumane #azumane asahi #asahi x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu #haikyuu fic #haikyuu fic writer #asahi x female reader #asahi x you #asahi x yn

[capitainelevi]

38, 69, or 75 lol but pls do it post Rumbling if you can of course! i just can’t get enough of what their life would be like 😪

Thank you for your ask!! ❤️❤️

Drabble challenge: Followers send a number to your ask and you write a drabble using that sentence/prompt in your piece. "You leave whenever you feel like it.", “Mind if I join you?”, and “I’ve had enough! I want to be alone!”.

Home Once the war ended, there was no need for Petra to ask: Levi would always choose to spend his remaining days by her side. Petra helps Levi heal while they look forward to brighter days. Canon universe. Word count: 2577

She had always been by his side.

Over time, Levi assumed that it would always be that way. He got comfortable as the years went by, despite the danger surrounding their lives. Petra had been his shadow for years, his right hand, to the point where she became an extension of him. The threats they faced together, the sadness, and the loss they shared, consolidated an unbreakable bond between them. Levi trusted Petra with his life, as did she.

Petra was the only one left. The last one to stay by his side. And he was about to lose her.

Sensing death surrounding her, Petra gave her captain a heavyhearted smile. The last thing she would have wanted was for his last memory of her to be of her shedding tears. There was no chance for them after all, no happiness to be found. Not after all they had done. Petra whispered- "Heichou... goodbye." as her vision went black.

Petra opened her eyes abruptly, terrified of the images still floating in her memory. Had she been a titan? No, it must have been a nightmare. Was it even a nightmare? Petra ran her fingers through the pebbles, trying to grasp herself onto reality. The last memory she could recall was of the heartbreak written all over Levi`s face as he silently bid his farewell.

As the mist surrounding her started to fade, Petra caught a glimpse of her captain, standing against a rock, with tears running down his cheek. A feeling of relief washed over her as she crawled her way to him, her legs too weak for her to stand on. Petra threw herself in his arms, squeezing him in a tight embrace, trying to convince herself that it was all real. That they had made it. Feeling Levi`s arms wrap around her trembling form let her tears run freely down her cheeks, and Levi let her cry against his neck.

"Is this over?"

Levi ran his hand up and down her back in an attempt to soothe her, not being able to grasp what Petra must have felt just mere minutes ago. He was still wary about it all being over. They had known nothing but fighting for survival for all those years, and he could not grasp the idea of peace.

"I don`t know."

Levi could not recall the events leading up to him laying on a hospital bed with Petra asleep in a chair next to him. Embraces, more tears, people yelling, Petra clinging to his neck, the way to the hospital, they all felt like a dream. Was Eren truly gone?

"Heichou, you`re awake."

The first thing Levi observed was the tiredness written on her face, the dark circles surrounding the hopeful look in her eyes, and he wondered just how long he had been asleep. He just nodded at her, his throat too dry for him to form any words. As if reading his thoughts, Petra put the water cup against his dry lips, and he nodded again in thanks.

"Everyone came to visit, but you`ve been out for three days."

Without giving it a second thought, Levi worded the first thing sitting on the tip of his tongue- "Is Eren gone?"

Petra just nodded, feeling grief wash over her at the image of the hopeful boy that looked up to her for guidance all those years ago. The boy that she involuntary helped massacre most of the world population.

"Did he come to you, Heichou?"

That was no surprise to Petra. Eren must have known there was nothing he could have said to the both of them that would convince them that his actions were the right ones. Nothing that would make the two of them feel like their squad`s sacrifice to protect him had not all been in vain.

"I think there is no need for formalities anymore, Petra. I`m retiring.”

Petra felt a wave of nostalgia hit her at his words, but she supposed she should have expected that. She tried not to let anxiety overcome her as the thoughts of his imminent departure took hold of her. Petra gathered all her courage to ask him about his future. Their future, she hoped.

"I suppose you`re right, Levi. What will you do now?"

Levi took his time to answer, but at the end of it, he was sure of his decision. There was no turning back for him. No regrets.

"Paradise`s not home for me anymore."

Petra was aware of the lump forming in her throat at hearing his words, troubled by the idea that the home they sacrificed so much to protect could not be called home anymore by the person she admired the most. But at a careful reflection, Petra was unsure if she had that same devotion towards Paradise as the first day she pledged her life to protect it. She tried to keep the tears at bay, at the thought of a life without Levi in it.

"Petra, you don`t need to ask. You already know this."

She had trouble containing the smile forming on her lips as a sense of relief washed over her. Her captain knew her so well. Not my superior anymore, she had to remind herself. Now that their mission was over, Petra hoped that something beautiful could blossom between the two of them, but she was content just by being by his side until the end of their time. Her love for Levi had always been strong, and while she knew feelings were not his forte, Petra saw that at the very least, Levi cared deeply for her.

"Where will we go?"

Levi just shrugged, the idea of a future still strange for him. He never expected to make it out of the war alive, and now, he had something to look forward to and someone to accompany him along the road. He was pleased Petra was going to be by his side, even if for a little while. But at the same time, his heart was conflicted. She deserved better than anything he ever had to offer her. But he would not take the choice away from her.

"Marley`s not a shithole, at least. It can be a start."

Petra listened to Levi debate what choices they had by himself while her thoughts were occupied with the words she needed to put together in her letter to her father. Her father had always been supportive of her choice of joining the military, and Petra prayed she would also be supportive of her following her heart this time.

Their conversation was cut short as the doctor entered the room, and when Petra tried to leave to give them privacy, Levi stopped her. He felt like she needed to know what his future struggles would be. Petra was relieved when the doctor emphasized how lucky Levi had been not to have a spinal injury, but the damage to his leg was still severe. She made a silent promise to him that she would be there by his side through his rehabilitation, no matter how much that took.

Petra let him rest as she went to get everything ready for their departure, leaving an agitated Levi behind her. "You can`t do all this shit by yourself."- he had argued with her, but she declined his offer to help her. As soon as the door closed behind her, Petra grinned, overjoyed at the idea of a future with him, even if that meant putting up with his foul mouth for many years to come.

As soon as Levi was well enough to leave the hospital, they both presented their resignation to their queen, anxious to put that life behind them. It made Levi`s stomach churn at being called a hero, but for Petra`s sake, he just kept quiet while the military praised their actions. Levi squeezed his fists so hard he could feel his skin bleeding thinking of all the countless lives that were lost in vain. That he indirectly played a part in. One look at Petra, and he knew she felt the same as him.

They both preferred the quietness of countryside life and using their savings, along with the money they accepted from Historia after many arguments they were able to afford a small house, comfortable enough for the two of them. But the surprise came when they started working on redecorating the house, and Levi popped a question which made her drop the paintbrush from her hand.

"How do you feel about kids?"

Petra`s mouth fell open, unsure of what to make of his question and the indifference plastered on his face as he asked her something she dared not think about. She had always loved children, but the military life she chose and motherhood were two dreams that she felt she could not achieve together. Petra tried not to get ahead of herself and picture holding a baby with her amber eyes and his raven hair in her arms before she knew what he meant.

"I haven`t given much thought about it, but I`ve always loved children."

Levi shook his head, frustrated at his lousy wording. He had hoped Petra would have picked up on his request. "Not kids. Teenagers."

"Teenagers?"

As Levi talked about Gabi and Falco losing their families and how, while they were still brats, they were still good enough kids who could come live with them, Petra could not help but smile. She had made a good choice. Levi Ackerman was a good man through and through. They welcomed the children into their new home as soon as the house was ready for them. Having the kids there, it gave them purpose.

But the next weeks had been hard on all of them, as Levi`s rehabilitation process was going to be long and hard on him. The wounds he suffered took a toll on him, as he went from being Humanity`s Strongest Soldier to someone with not enough strength to use a crutch yet, all in a matter of days. But Petra was determined to help him through it as best as she could.

Their days were filled with frustration, yelling, and cusses, and their nights were silent, with only the ghost of their former comrades and friends keeping them company. When the children asked if Levi was alright, Petra tried her best to put on a smile and explain to them that it was hard for him, but they would overcome it together. She had to believe that.

It was a particularly rough day when Levi finally snapped at her. His leg hurt like a bitch, his arms were sore, and he was tired of Petra`s optimism. He wished he could take the crutch and put all his frustrations and anger in it and use it to smash everything in the room to bits.

"I’ve had enough! I want to be alone!"

He regretted the words coming out of his mouth instantly as he saw Petra`s face twist in hurt. She left the room without taking a second glimpse at him, and when he tried to yell for her to come back, he had no words for her. Sometimes, Levi thought he must have been doing it on purpose, pushing her away in the hope she could chase the life that she deserves. Petra was the best woman he had ever met, and he had nothing to offer her. Nothing but anger and frustrations. He pictured her alongside a handsome, tall husband and a child in her arms, and he regretted keeping her by his side even more.

But Petra had never complained to him. No matter how many words he threw at her, how angry he was at life and himself, she never answered back, and she never blamed him for his roughness. He truly felt like he never deserved her.

Gathering all the courage he had left, Levi went to look for her and attempt to apologize to her, but he knew there were high chances he would mess that up as well. Levi once again wondered how Petra put up with him. He found her working on her candles, a hobby Petra had gotten into since they moved into the cabin. The villagers were ecstatic when Petra opened up a stand for Sunday market, and Levi had to admit he enjoyed the fresh smell her candles brought to the house.

"Mind if I join you?"

Petra just nodded, but she chose to work in silence while he watched her. Her eyes widened in surprise when he asked if he could help her, and while she was unsure of his crafting skills, they needed to put their fight behind them. She understood how hard it was on him, but she was at a loss in how to handle him. But she was confident in her decision to stay by his side, no matter what.

As expected, Levi had managed to make a mess of their kitchen in an instant, and Petra burst into laughter when his eye twitched at the sight. She knew an unexperimented Levi and candle making in his kitchen would be a recipe for disaster, but it was well worth it. Even with the chaos they now had to clean up. Hearing her laughter for the first time in months made him realize how much he had missed it.

"I`m sorry, Levi, I don`t think my clients would appreciate the products."- Petra giggled as she examined the attempted candle.

"Then they have shit taste."

They cleaned in silence until Levi cleared his throat to get her attention. Petra waited for Levi to gather his thoughts, and when no words came out of his mouth, she took hold of the conversation. She never wanted him to feel bad about what had happened.

"We don`t need to talk about this, Levi. It`s okay"

But his next words took Petra by surprise- "You leave whenever you feel like it."

Petra didn`t raise her sight from the floor as she barely whispered- "What would you have me do?"

Levi felt his blood boil with anger at seeing the woman he cared for more than he would ever admit put up with him. He both wished for Petra to leave him and stay by his side until he drew his last breath.- "Anything, Petra. I deserve it. Fucking yell at me, get angry, fuck, even leave me. Go be happy."

Petra tried to contain her sorrow, but she could feel the tears running down her cheeks. She wished Levi would see she would never find happiness without him by her side.

"But I am happy, Levi. I just want to stay with you."

"Stupid girl."

But it was her choice, and he was not going to push her away. Seeing Levi smile at her for the first time in months only made her cry harder, and she threw herself in his arms when he called for her. Levi let her cry for as long as she needed, the mess in the kitchen soon forgotten.

They spent the rest of the evening in front of the fireplace, with a cup of tea in hand. Levi thought it was about time he asked the question, and he put his cup down and straightened his back.

"Maybe we should open up a teashop."

Petra was adding more wood to the fire, but Levi could feel her smile as she answered- "I think I`d like that."

ao3

#ahh sorry for the delay I`ve been a bit busy #rivetra #petra ral #rivetra fanfiction #rivetra fanfic #my writing #I hope you like it!!

[pangtasias-atelier]

The Summoner’s New Drug

This was originally conceived as a joke between me and tumbyrumblings except I kinda wrote a lot and kept going lol. Though I feel like I wrote a whole lotta nothing despite this being 4k words abjsbjbbs 

Please know that any inaccuracies is cause I meant it that way lmao. Story involves the obvious three characters at ridiculously large sizes

"They're brownies," Corrin softly chimes in from his seat in the corner, his downcast eyes focusing on his warm chamomile tea instead.

"And what exactly is so special about these…" Grima trails off with a grimace. A plate of freshly baked brownies held in Kiran's hands, Grima eyes them warily as if concocted to destroy him.

"We have nothing like that in Phoenicis," Tibarn stands behind Kiran. He inquisitively glances down at the baked goods. A quick sniff relays enough information on his lack of knowledge on the dessert. "Chocolate huh. Those Begnion pigs loved that stuff,"

"Unsurprisingly, Corrin's the only one to really know about this kind of stuff," Kiran gives a small sigh before going on to inform them. "They're brownies. A nice little gooey, fudgy, chocolaty sweet. And they're special because I baked them myself! Doubly so since they're pot brownies,"

Upon the sudden adjective, Grima and Tibarn both turn towards Corrin. "I've never heard of that word before," He curves his tail closer to himself, not exactly appreciating the attention.

"They've got weed in them," Kiran clarifies. With a lack of a reaction, he divulges further. "You smoke it to feel good but you can also use it in food?" All three of them simply stare at him with morbid curiosity, none of them understanding the summoner. He lets out an exaggerated sigh before placing down the tray of goods. Grabbing a notebook he roughly sketches out the plant.

"Ah, you mean bud," Tibarn is the first one to respond. "I didn't think you'd know of such a thing. I used to enjoy it from time to time with Ulki and Janaff growing up,”

"That's the devil's grass," Corrin adds, now eyeing the brownies warily.

Kiran holds back a small snicker. "Oh come now; this is nothing so morbid like that. It's perfectly harmless and it makes you feel pretty nice,"

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Familiar with it, only in a different form, Tibarn shrugs his shoulders without a care. Grabbing one of the brownies, he merely takes a simple sniff before heartily chomping into the delicacy. “Mmm, you’ve outdone yourself,” Tibarn takes another quick two bites to finish it, a content thumbs up thrown Kiran’s way. “Heh, don’t mind if I take another one, right?” His eyelids drooping, Tibarn doesn’t wait for a response; instead he grabs two at once, one in each hand. He lets out a small, breathy chuckle. He stares at his hands while he continues to munch, as if each digit contained limitless knowledge possessed by Ashunera.

"Who cares about a weed concoction? It is yet another pointless distraction meant to please you pathetic worms," Grima skulks about as ever. Unwilling to partake in merriment enjoyed by others, he keeps his arms crossed.

“I guess you’re right,” Kiran sighs. He turns his back towards Grima. “Alfonse did like these, so I should save some for him if you won’t eat any,” As he goes to walk towards the plate, Kiran already has a grin forming on his face while he waits for his plan to work.

“That pathetic princeling has no need or right of anything that is yours,” And work it does as Grima barrels past Kiran in a frantic rush to reach the brownies. Only wishing to deny someone else enjoyment, Grima angrily takes a bite of the brownie. Chocolate smears his lips. “Much less anything that is mine,,, ooh,” The sweet brownie dances on his tongue. A faint blush forming on his face, Grima’s shoulders lose their tension as they slack. “Perhaps I was mistaken. This weed thing is good,” Grima licks the chocolate smeared all over his teeth, desperate to not let a single gram go. “What was I even complaining about?” Grima’s eyes turn a bit red, the effect seemingly instantaneous.

“I think I’ll pass,” Corrin remains in his secure little corner; he continuously passes concerned glances at Tibarn and Grima.

“Oh come on. It’s not even bad for you,” Having already gotten two out of three, Kiran becomes pushy, pushing the drug onto Kiran. “They’ve only got a small amount” Standing over Corrin’s seated form, he towers over the petite dragon.

“I’m…” As Corrin mulls over on what to do, a voice suddenly pops into his head. ‘You know, my wife Nancy has a saying. Tell ‘em Nancy!’ Corrin’s mind is perfectly silent for a fraction of a second as it waits for another voice to join in. ‘Just say no!’ Corrin stares at the brownie in Kiran’s hand, his willpower marginally renewed from the voices of ghosts not from his world.

Seeing Corrin push back, Kiran pipes up more. “Everyone else is doing it. Just be cool about it,” Holding the brownie right in front of Corrin’s face, Kiran keeps a neutral expression. “Just try it,”

“Fine,” He brushes a bit of his hair to the side as he responds. Corrin trepidatiously accepts the brownie from Kiran, as if it were going to explode in his hand. His stomach churns and toils. He takes a few deep breaths to psyche himself up. Lifting the confection to his mouth, he takes a lil nibble of it. He nods his head in agreement, his body gently swaying to the side in clear enjoyment of it. “This is actually good,” He still takes small nibbles of it but each consecutive bite is always a bit larger than the last. A puff of air comes out his nose in a definite sign of contentment. By the time he finishes his first brownie, he grabs another one to peck at. He makes himself comfortable as he lies down on the couch. He stares at the plain empty ceiling. His mind relaxing, a myriad of shapes and colors that he never knew existed bounce around on the ceiling.

“You guys hungry?” Asking as innocuous as he can be, Kiran already knows the answer to his own question. “You boys wait right here, I’ll be right back with some snacks,” A chorus of hmms sound out as he saunters out the room. Kiran grabs the already prepared cart of food placed right beside the door. Waiting a few minutes, afraid to perhaps come off as too prepared and give something away, he comes right back inside after his self imposed time is up. “I figured you might be a bit peckish, so I got some snacks for you all,” Grima TIbarn and Corrin alike are all too faded to give much of a response besides another round of humms. Kiran doles out snacks to them, the three hungry men snacking away.

His plan on introducing the drug working exactly as planned, Kiran goes onto phase two. Not planning to crack down on them with unjust and pointless laws meant to harm minorities and benefit those in power, the second part of his plan is fundamentally the exact same as the first part; introduce more and more of the drug and let things take their natural course. As natural as the course can be with him being in charge of it all now.

All three perfectly chill and calm ever since having their first taste of weed in Askr, as befitting the effects of marijuana, they all feel another much more important side effect. Well, important to Kiran. The munchies. Addicted to it, all of them are constantly doped up on dope. They simply laze about throughout the entirety of their day, their days now filled with weed and food. Completely lacking awareness from being high all the time, they easily allow it. The pot brownie the gateway drug into other variants, Kiran introduces them to gummies, weed beverages, before even having most of their food contain it once their bodies build up enough of a resistance to it. Marijuana ice cream, weed milk, weed infused lobster, weed mac n cheese, weed gravy, anything and everything, upon hearing it contains weed, Grima Tibarn and Corrin clammer to try it. The more weed in their system, the fiercer the growing pit in their stomach demands food, the munchies taking a tighter grip on their bodies.

Their trim bodies gain an inkling of a pot belly, a trim sliver of pudge forming on the lowest part of their abdomen. That promptly thickens with a bit more time, said sliver of pudge blossoming into a full fledged gut, their arms gaining a bit of circumference all around as do their legs, their appendages getting a bit closer and compressed to their chunky middle. Over time, their usual outfits grow snug in places never before; shirts tighten around their swelling middles, pants constrict their jiggly thighs, and sleeves compress their flabby arms. Too faded to care, their addled brained minds preferring to fixate on satiating their cravings, they simply adorn their tight clothes even as those seem more akin to rags as their burgeoning bodies outgrow them near completely. They lack a single concern in the world with Kiran providing them all the weed and food they could want. Lazing and grazing about their only objective each day, all three’s activity spike down to near nonexistence. The only activity they get is shifting around a few times a day and the semi occasional walk to another location to space out and enjoy their environment, like the castle’s gardens or the lake. But even that minimal effort of movement begins to die down over time, their widening waistlines proving too taxing to bother themselves.

Moving past fat to obesity, Tibarn’s upper figure is the most prominent part of himself. A veritable gut rolls down his tree trunk thighs. The lowest roll of flab nearly reaches all the way down to his swollen calves. Each ponderous step Tibarn takes, the few that he has to, causes the great flabby beast to sway to and fro before undulating from the deep, heavy breaths he takes afterwards from the exertion. His defined pecs look like they never existed on his figure, two pendulous sagging breasts plunging to the side of his mountain of a gut. His arms are wider than the average heroe’s thighs, the doughy sagging arms constantly at an angle from the upper rolls of his torso. His once angular face lacks any sort of severity to it, Tibarn’s now cherubic face taken up by his puffed out cheeks and multiple squished together necks. His ass respectable in its own rights, the shapeless mounds for an ass sag down.

“About..” TIbarn takes a moment to catch his breath, his cheeks puffing out. “time,” Seated on a couch, Tibarn’s immensity takes up the entirety of it, his girthy love handles oozing out onto the armrests. Not a single space left on the seating, his gut rolls off of it and his thighs. The couch sags at the center from his crushing weight.

“Can’t keep you waiting for too long, big guy,” Kiran places a hand on Tibarn’s sprawling gut before rubbing slow circles on it, the immensity of his flab caving in from the slight pressure. “Brought you your favorites,” Handing him a tray consisting of meat, meat, and some more meat, Kiran places it on the titanic shelf of his chest. Kiran also hands him weed gushers. He pats Tibarn’s gut, the mass of fat wobbling in return. Tibarn promptly digs in as soon as his overly laden arms reach the plate of food.

Heading towards Corrin, the once constantly worried dragon is much more relaxed and chilled out. Used to some manners, he continues to sit at the now comparatively tiny table in the room. His body filled out everywhere, his plush rotund body bulges out with fat all over. One chair can no longer withstand his crushing weight, so now he sits on an entire three, the sides of his ass spilling off the sides of them. The inner rivets of his thighs curve inward from the fat piled onto them only for his great gut to smother the entirety of them under its weight. His flab digs into the table, his plush fat seeping above and below it despite it not being as massive as Tibarn’s. His breasts somehow retain a sense of form to them, his juicy, plump chest resting atop his gut.

“How’re you doing?” Kiran comes up from behind, placing a gentle hand on Kiran’s should as he walks around his obese form. “Hungry or anything?”

“I’m fine,” Corrin lets out a small sigh, his fat face giving a contented smile. His nose perks as the wafts of what Kiran is carrying reaches his nostrils. More weed arriving, Corrin’s gut involuntarily grumbles, a deep cavernous rumble shaking his entire body. “Actually,” Corrin pauses, embarrassed to admit his needs.

“I got you covered,” Kiran ruffles the top of Corrin’s hair. He places a plate atop his buxom chest. A spread of food, all of them contain fair amounts of weed. Knowing Corrin will wait a few seconds before stuffing himself, Corrin goes to check on Grima.

The fat fell dragon sitting on a mattress, the cushion offers no real purpose besides customary, Grima’s massive ass oozing off the edges of it. His titanic door crushing thighs remain plastered onto the mattress. The wide, gargantuan appendages spread over the entirety of the mattress. His gut nowhere near as exaggeratedly big as his lower half, the doughy mass of fat rests comfortably atop his thighs. His generous chest lurches forward down onto his heaping stomach, his line of neck rolls and chins resting above said chest. His fat addled arms are at a constant angle from the jutting fat from both his torso and his arms. “And why am,” Grima lets out a groan to catch his breath. “I last?”

Kiran wasting no time waiting, he steps to the side of Grima with a plate ready as well. “Cause I knew you could hold on a bit longer for me. And besides, I'm here right now aren't I?” Kiran places a plate full of nothing but sweets. Each confection is chock full of cannabutter, exactly to Grima’s liking.

Stepping back, he takes an appreciative look of all three’s bloated bodies. Not quite yet immobile, their bodies holding out a bit longer than expected, Kiran’s brain whits as he imagines their obese figures even bigger, said image only a matter of time.

The time coming very quickly, it doesn’t take much longer for the three of them to find themselves unable to get up. Unconcerned from before when moving was already taxing, they display the exact same lack of concern on the same day they can’t get up. And still, they continue to eat and grow. What is once the beginning somewhat resemblant of a body immobility eventually turns into shapeless immobile blobs. Clothes go completely forgone, the amount of fabric needed to cover a single mountain of a gut astronomical. Furniture gets swallowed under their lard, mattresses and couches alike unable to withstand and withhold copious amounts of flab. Space diminishes. With not one. not two, but three pathetically food addicted and weed addicted men, their ever flowing flab presses up against not only itself but against each other with only so much space in the room to go around. So much fat swaddling their entire forms, legs and arms become useless, the appendages becoming buried in a sea of flab. All too eager to keep on eating, the bulging walls are of absolutely no concern when their fat builds and pushes against all four corners of the room. Flab busting down a wall and seeping out in desperation of more room only earns a sigh of relief from them with more breathing room. The ever increasing rolls making up a chin eventually seem to meld together. A tire of fat forms around their fat faces. A handful of heaping rolls lining their stomach become two handfuls into even more, more and more fat piling on top of their corpulent frames. Where once a room was sufficient to house all three immobile piles of lard, soon it becomes a room plus a hallway. Then it turns into multiple rooms before half an entire wing is necessary. Eventually, they take up the entirety of said wing only to require even more space with their ever constantly fattening forms. Soon, the entirety of Askr castle becomes uninhabitable with the looming threat of the three blobs burying the castle under a cascading blanket of lard.

Askr castle now entirely devoid of any sign of people besides three blobs, the only sound one can hear is the churning of overtaxed machines as they perform their best to keep feeding their users. One machine per person is no longer sufficient, each of them requiring two to sate their black hole of a stomach. In what is presumably the throne room, a location Kiran can only guess from how big his heroes’ have gotten, what with any and all furniture destroyed and smothered by their fat, Grima’s big bloated body greedily guzzles away at his liquid food. His hands and legs are equally smothered under titanic fat rolls. His pale blubbery legs have absolutely no definition or shape to them, the oozing oceanic thighs splaying out on both sides around him. A sea of rolls making them up, each thigh alone rivals the size of an average room. So much fat stacked on top of fat, they even give Grima some height to his billowing, massively wide frame. Not that it means much when he’s over six times as wide as he is tall. His ass melding into his thighs, there is no distinction on where exactly they separate from his thighs. The back wall of the throne room bulges outward from the substantial weight pressing onto it. The side wall is already destroyed from his thighs. His stomach able to house, well a house, the big lake of fat comfortably slots itself in between and atop his thighs. His breasts divot down to the sides of his gut, each of them alone larger than an actual person. Tibarn visible in Kiran’s peripheral vision, at least one of the three immobile blobs visible even when far away from the castle, it takes Kiran a whole 50 meters to walk from the center of Grima’s body to Tibarn’s center.. Tibarn the unfortunate one to be stuck in the middle of the three, he took the role with gusto. Unwilling to let himself be outdone, his body gushes outward onto Grima’s and Corrin’s. So immensely fat, three tubes are stuck inside his mouth at all times, his fat cheeks cascading down onto his shoulders. A multitude of chins stacked on top of each other, the rings of fat sag all the way down to where his plunging chest is. Each breast so massively bloated with fat, his great big tits reach far down his stomach. A great feat considering Tibarn’s stomach alone could fill up a library twice over. So many rolls riddling his stomach, they all blend and mix in with his overtaxed thighs and ass, Tibarn’s body hard to tell where each part ends and another starts. His thighs mostly smothered by his absolutely mountainous stomach the appendage somehow manage to look comparatively small despite their overwhelmingly large size. Kiran walks another 55 meters to reach Corrin’s gut. Corrin the runt of the three, his body still puts a pack of elephants to shame. His body once holding out on keeping a semblance of a figure, now he is nothing but a bunch of fat laden rolls of a blob. His arms completely useless, the two rotund cylindrical columns of fat splay out to the sides of his engorged body. His back fat and neck rolls encroach his face, a bit of his hair obstructed by the growing mass of fat. On the right, most of his body takes up the entirety of a single wing where they first got addicted to weed. So massively big that he alone takes it up, Corrin’s gut and thighs are equally impressive. Able to cover far more than a dozen mattresses, his tonnage goes where it pleases, overtaking the few furniture not crushed under one of the three’s weight.

Returning from his own world, Kiran sighs with pleasure. Buying out an entire store, he holds a mere fraction of his pull. “I brought some more weed for you all,” He speaks into a small mic, the three unable to hear him from the gushing sounds of their guzzling without a speaker placed by their sinking faces of fat. The mere mention of the drug gets all of them going, the poor machines whirring even harder as they greedily suck on their slop of feeding tubes. “This is the life,” Kiran smiles to himself with a few stretches to prepare himself for the taxing climb of three mountains of fat.

Later in the day

“Kiran, don’t tell me you gave them even more of this weed thing to them?” Pacing back and forth in his new room in some other smaller, remote castle, Alfonse exasperatedly sighs as he slumps back in his chair.

“I went to check on them. See how bad the weed has been affecting them. Which is why people shouldn’t be taking drugs,”

Alfonse’s eyes shoot wide open from Kiran’s lecturing tone. “Y-you gave it to them! And you keep giving it to them! There is absolutely no lesson to be had here. No moral. No aesop. Nothing. Besides!” Alfonse points an accusatory finger at Kiran, staring up at them even as Alfonse goes to stand up. “There is no way such a drug normally exists. You had to have enchanted it,”

“And what about it?” Kiran noncommittal shrugs. He goes to sit in his chair, far too pleased with himself even as Alfonse berates him.

“Th-then!” Alfonse momentarily stops. His brain wracks itself as it tries to figure out what to say now, not expecting Kiran to purposefully admit being at fault. “Then stop acting like you’re innocent! You gave some to Kaden and Keaton and now this castle is soon to be overtaken by two blobs! They fill up the entire west wing now. Kaden’s chest is so huge that they could crush a wagon! And Keaton’s stomach could crush three of them! And if you’re admitting to being at fault then you need to fix this right this instant!” His entire chest heaves as he finishes his impassioned beratement. He finds himself standing right in front of the seated Kiran who only has a far too amused grin on his face.

“You’re wrong about that,”

“Huh? About what?” Alfonse’s eyes keep steady as they glare at the summoner.

“It’s not going to be two blobs,” Kiran stands up. He stares down at Alfonse, right in front of him. His steely eyes grin down at the confused prince, Alfonse’s body suddenly yelling at him to run only for his feet to remain plastered to the ground. Kiran whips Alfonse around, pressing him against himself. Producing a brownie out of nowhere he tauntingly holds it in front of Alfonse. “It’s going to be three,” He whispers in Alfonse’s ear. A single bead of sweat rolls down the side of his head as his arms and legs thrash about. His struggling slowly dies down the instant the brownie reaches the inside of his mouth, Kiran holding his hand against Alfonse’s lips. Feeling Alfonse’s body begin to slack, Kiran slowly lets him go.

“Ugh I…” With lidded eyes, Alfonse looks at his hands. “I feel so chill,” A little burst of giggling ensues as he drapes himself onto the couch. His flat stomach lets out a small little grumble. “I feel kind of hungry,” Grumbling to himself, he gently holds his stomach in hopes of soothing the pain.

“Here, I have some snacks for you,” An angelic smile now adorning his face, Kiran caresses Alfonse’s hair as he hands him some snacks. “I’ll go get you some more just in case too,” Walking off, Kiran goes to bring him the entirety of the kitchen’s stock.

Alfonse succumbing to the same fate as the others, Kiran has him working overtime in order to catch up. Stuffed to the brim with food all hours of the day, that is nothing compared to the copious amounts of weed he feeds him every half hour. So aggravatingly hungry, it takes only a few weeks for Alfonse to find himself immobilised by his crushing weight. Unaware of ever being angry from the use of weed, he can barely find himself begging for more of it before Kiran supplies it to him alongside another feast or two or three. His fat body is as plain as his once thin body; fat simply cakes itself onto it all over. No exact body part is a standout from the rest even as his body fills the entirety of his room only to take up a whole wing by itself, a sea of fat spreading all around with only Kiran able to tell that the body belongs to Askr’s prince. Making sure to give him a rough time, it all works out for Kiran as Alfonse soon grows to be fatter than Kaden and Keaton combined, the poor kitsune and wolfskin each taking up only a quarter of the smaller castle compared to Alfonse’s three fourths.

Kiran rests on top of Alfonse’s numerous chins, the cascading folds sufficiently enough for him to comfortably rest. He sighs contentedly as the whirs of three feeding machines fill his ears, Alfonse requiring two now. “Pretty soon you’ll need even more, fat ass,” Chuckling to himself Kiran grins from ear to ear. A good portion of Alfonse’s fat taking up his vision, Kaden’s and Keaton’s crushing weight take up another significant portion, the two of them needing one feeding machine. But it’s the sight in the far background that brings him the most joy. Off in the distance, the distinct sight of three blobs looms over the landscape. Askr castle entirely now no more, the great structure would be unable to contain a single one of them, much less three. A mountain itself an apt comparison to each of their bloated figures, Kiran simply grins himself as he thinks about his visit to them tomorrow, a great climb comparable to Mount Everest only done thrice in one day awaiting him. Though he considers it more than worth it, wondering just how big they can further grow, all of them happy to do so.

#My writing #SSBHM #male weight gain #maleweightgain #immobility #fat emblem #feeder emblem #fat!heroes #fat!Grima #fat!Tibarn #fat!Corrin #fat!Alfonse #fat!Kaden #fat!Keaton

[elianamarie-blog]

The Things You Give Part 17

Steven Hyde x Reader

Happy Friday guys! I can’t believe this story has been going on this long lol I didn’t think it would get this far. But here we are! Let me know what you think and if you’d like to be added to the tagslist, please let me know and I’d be more than happy to add you :) I’m not too sure how much longer this is going go tbh. I don’t want it go on for too long but I also have quite a bit to still put in, so it might just be be longer chapters. Who knows. Let me know what you think in the comments! Plus, I love hearing from you all. Enjoy the chapter!

“So, have you heard from Hyde?” Donna asked y/n over the phone.           

 “No,” she replied glumly. “It’s been three days. He hasn’t come home and I’ve had to tell my parents that he took a few days to go be with his dad in Milwaukee.”            

“What about Eric?”            

“He’s still acting weird,” Y/n answered, sighing into the phone. “He barley looks at me and doesn’t even talk to me. And if he does, it’s short and kind of awkward. He can’t even make eye contact with me.”           

 “Yeah,” Donna said absentmindedly. “He isn’t even talking to me. And I’m his girlfriend!”            

“Well, to be fair, you are in California visiting your mom.”            

“There’s still the phone!”            

“Fair point,” Y/n said and turned onto her back as she laid on her bed. “I still haven’t told my parents. I’m so scared.”           

 “Hyde is too.”           

 “Clearly or else he’d be here.” Y/n sighed and rubbed her tired eyes. She hadn’t gotten enough sleep these last few days, tossing and turning all night.            

“Are you okay though?” Donna asked, concern laced in her voice.           

 “Honestly? No. But I don’t have a choice but to be. I’m going to have a baby and I have to be strong for it. No matter how hard it may be.”            

 “You are so strong,” Donna said and wished she could y/n a hug. “You’re going to make it through this. This won’t last forever.”          

  “God, I hope so.”           

“Hey, it’s going to be okay. If you ever need a place to stay, you can stay over at my place.”            

“Thank you, Donna. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”           

 “Yeah, I know,” Donna joked making y/n laugh. “You’re my best friend. That’s what they do.”           

 “When do you get back?”           

 “Tomorrow. You want to come and get me from the airport?”           

 “I’d love that,” Y/n answered. “We can go grab some food while we’re at it. I’ve been throwing up so much that I feel like I can eat a whole restaurant.”            

Donna chuckled. “Pregnancy will do that to you.”            

Y/n smiled. “You have no idea.”            

“Alright, well, I’m going to go. My mom wants to take me to the beach and out to eat before I leave.”            

“Okay, well you have fun.”            

“I will. I’ll see you tomorrow.”           

 “See you tomorrow.”            

Y/n  hung up the phone and stared at the ceiling for a while. Tears threatened to spill down the side of her face, but she forced them down. Hyde was coming back, she knew him. She knew his heart. He wouldn’t abandon them like the man he thought was his father did. He loved her. Right?           

 “ Y/n, honey?” Kitty called from down the hall, snapping Y/n out of her thoughts. “ Y/n, dinner is ready!”           

 “Ok, I’ll be down in a minute, Mom,” she replied and sat up from her bed. She took a quick glance in the mirror, checking out her baby bump. She sighed in relief when she saw she wasn’t showing yet. “Soon, though,” she whispered to herself as she walked out her room.           

She walked in the kitchen to be greeted by everyone, except for Steven.            

“So, have either of you heard from Steven?” Kitty asked the twins as she set down the chicken.            

“Who cares? He’s out of the house,” Laurie commented.            

“Laurie, hush,” Kitty said sternly.            

 “No, I have not heard from him,” Y/n said sourly. “What about you Eric?”            

“Yeah, he called,” Eric said, not looking up from his plate. “He said he’ll be back tomorrow night.”             

“Oh, good!” Kitty smiled and sat down with her family.           

 “Yeah, great,” Laurie deadpanned, earning an elbow to the ribs from Y/n.             

“Why don’t you like him?” she asked.            

“Because he mooches off of mom and daddy,” she replied.            

“Wh—” Y/n started, confused. “So do you!”           

 “No, I don’t,” she argued. “All I’m saying is that Mom and Dad work really hard around here and nothing here is cheap.”            

“Except you,” Eric quipped, earning a laugh from his twin.           

 Laurie rolled her eyes, feeling agitated. “Believe me, I’m not cheap.”            

“Fine, free. Whatever,” the twins said together and then looked at each other before laughing. If Y/n were being honest, she was happy that they were laughing together at something. Even though that something was their older sister. Even if Y/n wasn’t pregnant she still gets a kick out of it.           

 “Okay, that’s enough you three,” Red said, unamused.            

Y/n and Eric were still giggling as they turned back to their plates. As Y/n looked down at the plate in front of her, chicken, mashed potatoes, green beans, and rolls, she couldn’t help but scrunch up her nose. Her heightened senses made everything smell so gross now and it was driving her crazy.           

 “What’s the matter?” Kitty asked, noticing her daughter’s distain towards the food. “Is something wrong with my chicken?”            

Y/n’s eyes snapped up to meet her mother’s. “No, no! Not at all, just…uh…not sure if I’m feeling chicken tonight.”           

 “But you love chicken,” Kitty said, almost sad.            

Y/n saw her mom’s sad eyes and panicked. “No, no it’s good! See.” She shoved a leg into her mouth and felt the juices drip down her chin

 She wanted to gag, but forced herself not to. Not now, kid.            

Y/n hummed in satisfaction as she swallowed the chicken, earning a smile from her mother. “So good.”            

“Huh,” Laurie said, pouting in thought. “Why does that look and sound familiar?” 

“Maybe because it’s usually you—” Eric started before Kitty cut him off, screaming.           

 “Eric, if you want to live to see your grand-children, you better not finish that sentence,” she warned. Eric looked over to Red who was giving him a hard stare.           

 Eric quickly looked down at his plate and was quiet for the rest of the evening.                                                                 

                                                  --Time Skip—           

Y/n found her head in the toilet that night, emptying the contents of her stomach of the evening’s meal into the toilet. She was trying hard to be discreet, but that showed to be a failure when Eric knocked on the door.            

“ Y/n? Are you okay?”           

 “What do you want—” Her head immediately went back into the toilet.            

Eric let himself in and saw his sister in her weakened and vulnerable state. He gathered her hair in his hands and rubbed her back. “Are you okay? What’s going on?”           

 “Mom’s chicken didn’t agree with me,” she whined, wiping the drool from her mouth with a piece of toilet paper. “Or the baby didn’t agree with the chicken.”          

  “God, I’m sorry,” Eric sympathized. “Look, we need to talk, but first, maybe you should brush your teeth.”           

 “I feel like we’ve been having a lot of talks lately,” Y/n tried to joke, but only came off as a whimper and she could feel her stomach churning again. She turned her face into the toilet once again and let out a long, painful, retched noise. “This kid is going to kill me,” she groaned.            

Eric waited until Y/n was finished vomiting before helping her up and taking her to her room. “Are you okay? Do you need anything?”            

“Well to stop vomiting would be nice, but what I really need is to know where Hyde is,” she said, staring at her brother. “When were you going to tell me that he called? Why didn’t he want to talk to me?”            

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” he said and sat at her desk chair. “This isn’t easy for any of us, you know this.”            

“Oh, I’m so sorry that you have to carry the burden of mine and Hyde’s baby,” Y/n said, rolling his eyes.             

Eric sighed frustratingly. “ Y/n, focus will you?”            

She shut her mouth and looked at Eric nervously.             

“He’s coming back,” he started. “He just needed a few days to think. He even got a hold of his dad in Milwaukee and spoke to him, but he’s not sure how he’s supposed to handle this. I didn’t want to tell you because I knew you would be upset. He wanted to talk to you, but he said he needs to talk to you face to face.”            

Tears started to burn her eyes. “I don’t know what I’m going to do, Eric,” she croaked. “I’ve been alone in this since he left. The only person who was there for me was Donna and Jackie. And Donna has been gone in California for a few days while Jackie has been…well, being Jackie. The father of my child disappeared and my own brother wouldn’t even speak to me. Do you have any idea how crushing it is to be alone in this?”            

“See, that’s the thing, you’re not alone!” Eric said. “Regardless of how I or Mom and Dad feel, you’re still going to have help raising this baby. Whether I like it or not, I’m going to be the uncle to my best friend’s and twin sister’s baby. Trust me, this isn’t what I thought would happen at all, but it did. And I came to realize that there is no point in being mad at you when it’s already done. I want to be here for you and Hyde. This is going to be my niece or nephew and…I don’t know, it’s kind of growing on me.”            

Tears continued to flow down Y/n’s face. “Thank you, Eric. That means so much.”            

Confused, Eric reached out to her and pulled her in. “I’m sorry. Did I say something wrong?”            

“No,” she sniffed and hiccupped. “Just pregnancy hormones.”            

“And we’re all going to have to deal with this for eight more months. Yayyy,” Eric mused.            

Y/n laughed and sat up. She stared down at her lap for a minute while Eric studied her. Something was on her mind and he knew it. “Talk to me.”            

She looked back up and wiped at her eyes. “Is Hyde going to leave me to raise this baby by myself?”            

“What? No, of course not,” Eric said gently. “Look, he loves you. He’s told me so. I don’t see him leaving. He knows if he does anymore screw ups, I’m going to kick his ass.”            

“Your leg would break midair before it could,” Y/n joked earning a laugh from Eric.            

“Yeah, probably,” he joked.            

“I feel like I’ve asked this more than I should, but…are we good?”            

Eric nodded, giving her a half smile. “Yeah, we’re good.”            

Y/n smiled at her twin. “So, uh, how do you think Dad is going to take it?”            

“Well,” he said, thinking. “I’ve come to two possibilities. One, he kills you and Hyde. Or two, he’ll get so mad, his head will explode.”            

Y/n laughed once again, the weight on her shoulders lifting a little.                                                

                                                  --Time Skip—            

The next night, Y/n and the gang sat in the basement with Hyde still missing. 

After Y/n had picked up Donna, they had picked up burgers for everyone.           

 “Thanks for dinner, Y/n,” Kelso said.             

“No problem,” she answered with a mouthful of fries. “I’ve been craving burgers and thought I could get everyone some, so you all don’t feel left out.”           

“Well, you should get pregnant more often,” Kelso laughed into his burger.            

Y/n gave him a ‘are you dumb’ look. “I think I’m going to pass on that.”            

“So, Eric,” Kelso continued, licking his fingers. “Now that we’re past the awkward stage about Y/n’s pregnancy, all I gotta say is BURN!”            

The group laughed, but Eric’s face remained stoic. “Hilarious.”           

 “C’mon, Eric, you’re going to be an uncle,” Jackie chimed in. “Aren’t you excited?”            

“Well, kind of actually,” he answered honestly.            

“Wait, really?” Y/n asked in surprised, mouth full of food.            

“Yeah, but I’m not excited what’s going to happen when Dad finds out.”            

“Yeah, we’re going to hear on the news that the Forman’s house blew up,” Fez joked.            

“Make sure we’re all in our basements, duck and cover,” Donna said, laughing with the group.            

“You guys are hilarious,” Y/n deadpanned and took a sip of her milkshake.            

“I’d like to think we are,” Fez said.            

Y/n chuckled as she took a bite of her burger. “It’s all fun and games until a father with anger issues explodes.”            

“I’m going to have to disappear for a few days, or weeks…or years,” Eric said, staring in the distance. “You know what, I’ll just start packing for Mexico now.”            

“Shut up, Eric. Dad’s not going to blame you.”           

 “Oh really?” Eric asked, setting aside his finished food. “When you failed your geometry test sophomore year, he asked me why I didn’t help you study. When I told I didn’t pass the test either, he asked why I didn’t help you cheat.” He shook his head.            

“Well, I don’t think a geometry test is equivalent to a baby,” Y/n responded. “And besides, I don’t think you wanted to be there to stop me from getting pregnant.”            

“Yeah, thanks for that.” Eric scrunched his face in disgust while everyone agreed how gross and creepy that would be.            

“Anyway,” Donna said, clearing her throat. “Have you thought about what you want to have?”            

“Not really,” Y/n replied and finished off her burger. “I’ll love them whether they’re a boy or a girl.”            

“Do you think you’ll have twins since you’re one?” Jackie asked.            

“Nah,” she replied. “It’s like, less than one percent chance of having twins. I highly doubt it.”             

“Well, if you have a girl, you should name her Jackie,” Jackie said. “If it’s a boy, Jack.”            

“You hate it when I call you Jack,” Y/n pointed out.            

“Yeah, but if it’s a baby named after me, I can deal with it,” she said and flipped her hair.            

Y/n rolled her eyes. “I’m not naming my baby after you.”            

“Why not?!”            

“Because I don’t need that hanging over my head!” Y/n responded and took the last bite of her burger. “We’re going to name the baby something completely different.”            

“Like what?” Fez asked.            

“I don’t know,” Y/n shrugged. “I’m only four weeks.”            

“When’s your doctor’s appointment?” Eric asked.            

“In two weeks,” Y/n answered. “They’re going to see if they can detect a heartbeat.”            

“Yeah, they have this really cool machine now where they can use the ultrasound to see and hear the baby’s heartbeat. It’s pretty cool,” Donna said. “Kelso, did they use that with Brooke’s pregnancy?”            

“Yeah, it was really cool,” Kelso responded and threw away his trash. “It’s really beautiful to see your baby like that.”           

 “Didn’t they give you a picture?” Y/n asked.            

“Yes. Brooke still has it on her fridge.”            

“How exciting!” Jackie said.             

“Yeah,” Y/n trailed off.            

“What?” Fez asked.            

“Well, seeing my baby, it’s going to make it real,” she whispered.            

“Well, it already is,” Donna said. “But it’s going to be okay.”            

She was rubbing a comforting hand on Y/n’s shoulder when the door swung open. Y/n turned to see Hyde standing there with the same clothes he wore three days prior. She wanted to run into his arms and kiss him, but she also wanted to punch him in the face.            

“Hey,” he greeted her, rather awkwardly.             

“Hey,” she replied gravely.            

“Where the hell have you been?” Donna asked him.            

“I was just driving around. Went up to Milwaukee to see my dad.”            

“Where did you sleep?” Fez asked.            

“Either in my car or a motel.”            

Y/n nodded and looked down at her hands. Her stomach knotting up and tears burning the back of her eyes.            

“Look, Y/n, we need to talk—”            

“You left me,” she snapped. “You promised you wouldn’t, but you did.”            

“I didn’t leave you,” he argued. “I just needed some time to think.”            

Y/n stood to face him. “You were gone for three days! You didn’t even call to speak to me. You spoke to Eric instead!”            

“I know, but please listen to me—can you hang on a second?” He turned his attention to the group. “Would you guys get out of here?”            

The group turned and walked away, but only a few feet and huddled in the corner by the stairs so they could listen. Y/n rolled her eyes and turned back to Steven.            

“ Y/n, please believe me when I say I really wanted to talk to you, but I needed to see you first.”            

“Okay,” she said and crossed her arms. “Go ahead. Talk.”            

Hyde exhaled and scratched the back of his head. “I…I panicked, okay? This was the last thing I was expecting.”            

“And I was?!” Y/n asked, voice rising. “See, here’s the difference between you and me: if I ran like you did, I wouldn’t be able to run away from my problems. Because wherever I go, it goes. I can’t outrun this problem, Steven. Even if I wanted to. But you did and when I needed you the most, you weren’t here!”            

“I know. I know I messed up, but that’s why I’m here. I l—” he looked at the group who awkwardly (and not subtly) looked away in other directions, making it look like they weren’t listening. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? It’s a lot to take in. We’re barley out of high school and I get hit with, ‘You’re going to be a father.’ God, I can’t believe this is happening. How is this happening?” He turned away from her, hands rubbing his eyes.            

“Well, it is,” Y/n said. “I’m just as scared as you, but I didn’t run away.”            

“I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to be gone as long as I was. I just needed to think of what I was going to do. I don’t know what I’m going to do,” he said. “I didn’t have a dad growing up. The only one I knew was Bud and he ran out on me. I’m not sure I even know how to be one. What if I end up being just like him? I can’t do that to you.”            

“Okay, guys, I think we should go,” Donna whispered once she realized where this conversation was heading. “We’ll talk to them later.”           

 “But I wanna listen,” Kelso whined, but hissed when Jackie pinched his nipple. “Damn, Jackie!”            

“Let’s go, Michael,” she said sternly.             

The group retreated upstairs, leaving Y/n and Hyde alone in the basement. Hyde sunk down onto the coffee table and put his head in his hands. Y/n sat down next him and rubbed a comforting hand on his back.            

“Well, you’re not going to be like Bud.”            

“How do you know that?”            

“Because you left out someone who did become a father to you: Red. He stuck around and continued to help you even when you pissed him off. He’ll never say it, but he loves you. And if anything, you’ll be like him.”            

“He’s not going to when he finds out what I did to you.”            

Y/n made a face at him. “You knocked me up, you didn’t kill me.”            

“What are we going to do?” he asked. “I don’t know,” she responded. “I don’t know about you, but I’m terrified.”

“You have no idea. My job doesn’t pay me enough to support you and a kid. I don’t even think I get benefits. Aw, crap…should we just get married?”            

Y/n made a face at him. “’Aw, crap. Should we just get married?’ Is that how you fix things?”            

“How else do you suggest we fix this?” he asked.            

“Well, by not getting engaged!” Y/n pointed out and stood up. “You really think us getting married because we’re having a baby is the right answer?”            

“Well, what do you suggest?”           

 “I don’t know, Steven, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to marry me.”     

Y/n started pacing the floor while Hyde stared at the wall, desperate to find an answer.            

“By the way, I didn’t kiss her,” he piped up after a moment of silence. “She kissed me.”            

“I know,” Y/n stopped pacing. “Everyone told me.”            

“Good,” he said and sighed. “I was afraid you would think I’d do that to you.”            

“You’re a lot of things, Steven, but a cheater isn’t one of them.”            

“I hope those are good things,” he chuckled halfheartedly, trying to lighten the mood.            

She smiled gently at him. “Most of them are. You’re still a huge pain in the ass though.”            

Hyde lifted the corner of his mouth in amusement. “Maybe, I can get a job with W.B.,” he suggested. “He might’ve…already offered me a job.”            

“Hey, that’s great!” Y/n said excitedly and sat down next to him.            

“I think I might take it.”            

“You should,” she encouraged him. “I applied to the state college here, but I think I’m going to apply to the community college and get a part time job.”            

“No, let me worry about the bills,” he said. “I’m the man, that’s what I’m supposed to do.”            

She squinted at him. “This isn’t twenty years ago. I can work and help with the bills.”            

“It’s okay, really.” He turned and grabbed her hands. “Let me work and take care of the bills while you go to school.”            

“Okay, well, we’re going to have to figure out where to live. I’m pretty sure my parents don’t want a baby living in the house.”            

“Yeah, we’ll start apartment hunting,” he grunted and stood up.             

Y/n watched him pace back and forth; he sighed and rubbed his face. He stopped pacing and looked lost in thought. “Maybe it is with you,” he said suddenly and gently.            

“What?”            

“Just now when you asked if us getting married was the right answer because we’re having a baby, I’m saying maybe it is. I mean,” he continued. “This is not exactly ideal, but we did talk about settling down before. Maybe, you know, this time is…now?”           

Y/n blinked. “Are you…actually asking me to marry you right now?”            

“Well…” he drew out, suddenly acting shy. “I guess I am.” He scratched his head.             

She shook her head. “Steven, I told you I don’t want you to feel like you have to marry me.”            

“See, that’s the thing I don’t,” he answered quickly. “I actually want to.”            

She raised her eyebrows. “You do?”            

“Yes. I know how I used to feel about marriage, but that was when I thought all women were the same or…like my mom.” Y/n chuckled lightly along with Hyde and he continued. “But, you’ve changed all that. You forced me to see a different picture painted in a whole new light and honestly…it’s refreshing.”            

“I feel the same way,” she said, giving him a shy smile.            

“I just, uh…I wanted to do this right. You know?”            

“Well,” she said quietly, her heart thumping wildly. “You still can.”            

“I don’t even have a ring. Not yet at least.”            

“It’s okay,” Y/n whispered.             

Hyde smiled so sweetly at her before nervously grabbing her hand and getting down on one knee. “I know that nothing about our situation has been easy. We’ve only been together for a short while, but I’ve known you my whole life. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before and for the first time I actually mean it when I say I love a girl and not just saying it to sleep with her.”             

Y/n squeezed his hand a little tighter as he continued. “And as much as I used to hate commitment then, you’ve changed me. You make me a better man. If you’ll have me, I promise to stay and do my best to make you happy because you make me happiest that I have ever been.”            

Tears pricked the corner of Y/n’s eyes as she smiled widely. She couldn’t believe this was happening because she never thought it would. She remembers when he used to be so against marriage, but here he was voluntarily on one knee, asking her to marry him.            

“So, Y/f/n y/m/n Forman, will you marry me?”            

Y/n nodded while tears started to run down her face. “Yes,” she whispered.            

Hyde smiled brightly at her as she stood up and swiftly brought her face to his. He held onto her tight as he kissed her hard. They relished the feeling of each other’s lips and the emotion they both felt. Hyde found himself surprised that he wasn’t freaking out and Y/n found herself excited.             

Their kiss was broken short though as the group came crashing down the stairs.           

 “ENGAGED?!” They all shouted.             

“Were you guys listening this whole time?!” Hyde asked them.            

“Duh,” Jackie responded which earned her an elbow to the ribs from Donna. “Ow, Donna! What the hell was that for?”            

“Are you guys serious?” Eric asked, ignoring the girls and walked down towards the couple. “Are you really engaged?”            

“Are you mad?” Y/n asked.             

Eric shook his head. “No, I’m done being mad. I’ve been doing that a lot lately,” he said and chuckled. “If anything I’m just…shocked. Especially with how fast all this has been moving. I never thought in a million years this would happen.” He rubbed his lips with his fingertips, as if lost in thought and sighed. “But, uh, congratulations, guys.”            

He brought Hyde in for a hug, patting his back and then brought Y/n in for a tight hug. If anything he was feeling conflicted. Was he mad at them? No, not at all. Was he happy? Yes, of course. But, what he was feeling most of all was…sadness?            

Maybe because the group was changing drastically now. Kelso was becoming a police officer and just became a father himself, Donna was working at the radio station and setting goals for herself with feminism, Fez had a steady job working at the DMV, Jackie was…well, he didn’t know what the hell Jackie was doing, and now Hyde and Y/n were not only having a baby, but they were now getting married and he was now going to be working with W.B at an awesome record company. And what was Eric doing? Besides lazing around the house doing absolutely nothing while watching his friends and sister were working to do something amazing with their lives. His year of not doing anything was almost up and while he enjoyed sleeping in and doing nothing all day long, he was starting to see the down side of it all. And it was hitting him hard.             

“Are you okay?” Y/n asked him, seeing his face change.            

“Yeah,” he lied and plastered on a fake smile. “I’m just thinking of what you’re going to say to Mom and Dad.”             

“Yeah, don’t remind me.”            

“Oh, Y/n this is so exciting!” Jackie squealed coming down the stairs and interrupting their conversation. Everyone in the group trailed behind her. “I can’t wait to start wedding planning! But first, we need to get you a ring!” She gasped dramatically. “Oh my God, who’s going to be your maid of honor? If it’s not me I’m going to scream.”            

Y/n laughed and placed her hands on Jackie’s arms. “Hey, calm down, Jack. It’s not happening yet. I’m just taking it one day at a time.”            

“Well, you better tell them soon because it’s going to get harder to hide a baby bump,” Eric said.            

“I know. I was actually thinking of telling them tonight,” she said which caused the group to go silent. “What?”            

“Should we start planning your funeral now or?” Donna joked.             

“Funny,” she deadpanned. “No, I think it will be fine now that Steven and I have a plan.”            

Eric nodded and pressed his lips into a thin line. “It was nice knowing you. Both of you.” He gave her a hug which Y/n shrugged off.             

“Alright that’s enough,” she said and stepped back. “They can’t be too mad…can they?”            

Again, the group went silent, looking at each other; Trying to decide who is the better liar. But no lie could be good enough to determine what was about to happen with Red and Kitty.            

Fez stepped forward wearing the most serious expression Y/n has ever seen. “Before you do, I just wanted to say how much I love you guys and how much I’m going to miss you.” He dramatically wrapped his arms around Hyde and start faux sobbing. The group laughed at Fez as Hyde shoved him off.                                                           

                                                    --Time Skip—            

Y/n waited in the basement for another couple hours, working the nerve to go up there and tell her parents. The gang had decided to stay and come up with a plan, but nothing seemed good enough to prepare them for the upcoming explosion known as Red.             

“Okay, so here’s the plan,” Y/n said, exhausted. “I tell them, Steven you have the El Camino ready when things go south, Eric have the Vista Cruiser ready in case Dad tries to kill you, and everybody, whatever you do: act dumb. You didn’t know I was pregnant and just run like hell.”            

Everybody nodded in compliance as Y/n laid back against the couch. “I should probably go up there now,” she said, her stomach twisting into knots, her head swimming.            

“Do you need me to go with you?” Hyde offered.            

“No, no, you stay here. If I don’t make it back in,” she responded dramatically. “Please, move on without me. I love you.”            

Hyde grabbed her hand. “Hey, don’t talk like that. We will get out of this alive.”            

Y/n gave him a single nod. “Okay, here I go.”            

“Wait, Y/n,” Kelso said, abruptly stand up and gave her a hug. “Goodbye.”            

Y/n gave a theatrical sniff as if she was crying. “Goodbye, Kelso. I’ll miss you the most.”            

“Really?” he asked brightly and turned to Hyde as if to say I knew it.            

“No,” she deadpanned and pushed him away from her before walking up the stairs, hearing the chuckles fade away as she entered the kitchen.            

She saw Kitty sitting at the kitchen table, hunched over scribbling something on a piece of paper.            

“Hey mom,” Y/n’s voice wavered, her knees starting to wobble, but she played it off as if nothing was wrong. To hide her nervousness, she opened the fridge and grabbed a soda can. “What cha doin’?”            

“Oh, I’m just going over your medical bill,” Kitty replied and Y/n felt her heart drop to her feet. “I see that they ran some extra tests which explains why we have to pay a bit more. Plus, the ambulance ride didn’t help any.”            

“Oh, okay. I’ll help pay that back,” she replied and looked around. “So, uh, where’s Dad?”            

“Oh, he’s out getting dinner.”            

“Oh, okay,” she replied and opened her water, taking a hefty sip. Kitty looked up from the paper and noticed Y/n acting different. In fact, Y/n’s eyes were glossy and she looked like she was about to vomit again at any second.            

“ Y/n, honey? What’s wrong?” Kitty asked, concerned.             

Y/n’s chin wobbled as she gripped the can tighter. Do it. Do it now! She stared at her mother who had completely abandoned her task and now was staring at her daughter.             

Y/n couldn’t find the words. She stood there, like an idiot, or as her father would say, like a dopehead. Her eyes were wide and she could feel cold perspiration beginning to cover her palms.             

It’s now or never.            

“Mommy,” she said in a small voice. “I need to tell you something.”

Taglist: @jeeperky​ @05-feet-off-the-table-06​ @cooloclown​ @mdittyz123​ @n-dg-wm​ @undead-sierra​ @random-thoughts-003​ @lieswithoutfairytales​ @taysirene​

#that 70s show #That '70s Show #that 70's show fanfic #Steven Hyde #steven hyde x reader #steve rogers x reader #Eric Forman #Donna Pinciotti #red forman #kitty forman #fez #Michael Kelso #jackie burkhart

[theres-an-impulstor-among-us]

Hermit Rivals: Skizz and Logic

this is a bunch of short scenes put together based on the tiny amount of Skizz/Logic content we got in twitch rivals: hermit raiders :D they don’t really blend together very well but i couldn’t figure out how to do it so enjoy anyway lol

…

Waiting in the lobby for the competition to start, LogicalGeekBoy is talking strategy with his team when he feels something poking him in the back. He turns and finds himself face to face with a grinning Skizzleman. “Hey.”

“Hi,” Logic chuckles. “What’s up?”

“I’m gonna beat you,” says Skizz. “I can’t beat Impulse cuz he’s on my team so you’re next on my list of friends I wanna beat.”

“Oho, fighting talk, huh?” teases Logic.

“You bet! You may be one of the smartest people I know but I bet my team can beat you in a fighting-based competition.”

“Okay, you know what? You’re on.” Logic grins. “Forget first place; my only goal is to beat your team.”

Skizz grins back. “Oh, you are ON! You’re not gonna know what hit you!”

Logic laughs as he watches Skizz bound off back to his team. “So easy to wind up.”

“We better beat their team now,” remarks Doc.

Logic nods. “Oh yeah, losing is NOT an option. If he beats me, I’m not gonna hear the end of it for weeks. Maybe the rest of my life.”

On the other side of the lobby, Skizz bounces up to his teammates. “GUYS. We gotta beat Team Doc!”

“Okay, why them, specifically?” False asks.

“Because if I don’t beat Logic now, he’s gonna lord it over me for the rest of my life.”

“Are you sure you’re not thinking of yourself?” asks Impulse teasingly.

“Shut up, I hate you.”

…

“Uh, guys?” Doc’s voice comes over their team comms line. “I don’t want to alarm anyone but I’m currently being attacked by iJevin.”

“What?!” Logic yelps.

“Oh, this is the hermit mob round,” says Xisuma, sounding unfazed. “The waves this time are mobs retextured to look like the players in the event.”

“Well, THAT’s not disturbing at all,” Doc responds wryly.

Logic quickly slices down a mob version of fWhip, before darting around a house to find a lone mob he can see highlighted behind it.

But he stops dead as he registers the mob standing there.

“Oh no…!”

Mob-Skizz immediately starts moving towards him, arms up, trying to reach him to attack. Its movement is clearly that of a zombie but Logic is still frozen, his sword hanging limply in his grip. He doesn’t want to attack his friend.

“Skizz, please, I…! I don’t wanna hurt you…!”

As he backs away, trying to think of something else he can do, he feels his heel catch something and he topples backwards. He looks up to find Mob-Skizz advancing on him, within a few blocks of attacking. His sword is within reach but…

Logic’s rational mind knows this is just a mindless zombie made to look like his friend but he can’t bring himself to strike something that looks like Skizz, even when said thing is attacking him. He strains against Mob-Skizz as it starts raking its claws down his arms and trying to bite him.

Then he hears the sound of a mob taking damage and the pressure is lifted from his arms. Logic barely has time to breathe before he’s grabbed by the hand and hauled to his feet.

“Logic, FOCUS,” Doc scolds him. “We can’t afford to waste time dying!”

Logic watches Doc run back into the fray before taking a moment to inspect his arms. Several long red welts stare back at him.

He grimaces. Come on, Logic… It’s not the real Skizz attacking you. You think Skizz would hesitate to kill a mob looking like you? Get a grip.

…

“Oh no, all the mobs are hermits!” yelps Impulse, almost toppling off the roof of the house he’s perched on. “Skizz, get them towards the pit!”

Skizz immediately takes off running but as he’s luring the hermit-mobs towards the lava pit, something catches his eye. Out of all the hermit-mobs swarming towards him, one particular one causes his stomach to lurch.

“Skizz, let’s GO,” False’s impatient voice snaps.

Blinking himself out of his thoughts, Skizz dodges around Mob-Logic and leads a whole group of them carefully to the lava pit they’ve made. He jumps over and turns back to check it’s working.

And it is; the mobs try to follow Skizz over the opened trapdoors and fall straight into the lava below.

Skizz cheers. “Woo, look at that! It’s working!”

But his grin quickly falls as he spots THAT mob again, falling into the lava pit. He has to catch himself before he yells Logic’s name, as if it’s his real friend sinking into the lava. Mob-Logic is staring up at him with wide eyes, Logic’s eyes, as it dies a fiery death.

Unable to bear it any longer, Skizz takes off running and shuts himself in one of the houses, breathing deeply in and out to quell the nausea threatening to spill out of him.

“Skizz, where did you go?” comes False’s voice over the comms.

“I-I need a moment...!”

Impulse clearly hears the emotion in Skizz’s voice, and he’s known Skizz long enough to realise immediately what’s affecting his best friend. “Skizz, it’s not real,” he says reassuringly. “I know it’s hard but you have to see them as the mobs they are, not our friends.”

“You don’t understand,” whispers Skizz.

He opens his mouth again but he can’t find the right words. How is he supposed to explain how awful the churning in his stomach at the sight of his close friend dying in lava was? The way Logic’s eyes looked back at him as if asking “why would you do this to me…?” How agonising it was to fight against every instinct in his body screaming at him to jump into the lava pit and save his friend?

After a moment, he sighs. Come on, Skizz. Logic’s probably got no problem with killing a mob that looks like you. Get a grip.

…

In the lobby at the end of the round, False is looking at her team captains’ communication line. “Looks like Team Doc’s round is bugged,” she reports.

Skizz is immediately alert; that’s Logic’s team. “Are they okay?”

False nods. “Yeah, apparently the game seems to think there’s two raid guys left but they can’t see anything highlighted and it says zero of seventy-five on the side of their screen.”

“Oh, you’re right,” says Impulse, seeing 0/75 written next to Team Doc’s name on his screen. “It’s stuck on zero. What are they gonna do?”

“Just let the round end naturally, apparently.”

“Aw man,” mutters Skizz. He hopes Logic’s doing okay; he knows his friend has a thing about bugs and glitches.

But down in the village, Logic just wants this round to end. Exhausted from searching for the final two raid mobs their screen says still exist, Logic is morosely gathering up the hay bales from around the village. They had been doing so well. Sure, they weren’t on track to win or anything. But they may have at least gotten fourth or fifth, but now they’ll be sixth by default. All thanks to the stupid glitch. That’s points thrown away that they can’t afford to lose.

“The admins say they’re gonna put us down joint fifth with Team False,” Doc reports after a while. “Two points.”

“Better than one,” Xisuma mutters.

This actually helps Logic feel better. He knows their team can’t win but it would be nice to beat Skizz’s team.

…

Wandering around the lobby, listening to Doc and Xisuma argue strategies over their team comms line, Logic spots a dandelion lying on the floor. He picks it up and, after a quick scan of the area to find a specific person, trots over to the corner of the lobby where Team False are having a meeting.

“-why whatever we face next will be-.” False breaks off as she spots him approaching. “Hey! Logic! Get outta here!”

“Team meeting, man, c’mon,” Skizz, who is sitting with his back to the wall, adds. “Get outta here. Can't be stealing our strategies, dude.”

Logic silently places the flower on Skizz’s knee and takes a few steps back.

As he registers what the item is, Skizz glances up sheepishly. “Oh. Thanks, buddy.”

Logic just smiles. He and Skizz both know he tends to not speak much in social situations involving people he isn’t fully comfortable with.

“Yeah yeah, great, now get outta here,” False says brusquely. “This is our meeting place.”

In response, Logic sits down next to Skizz, looking expectantly up at False.

Impulse and Skizz both snicker at False’s exasperated eye-roll. “Skizz, make your friend go away.”

Skizz nudges Logic in the side. “You heard the captain, bro. We gotta talk strategy.”

Logic’s sad frown almost makes Skizz change his mind on the spot. He gives a chuckle and pats him on the shoulder. “Bro, you know I love you, but you’re not on our team. I’ll catch up with you later, okay?”

After a moment, Logic nods, stands up, and starts walking away.

Skizz watches him go, then jumps to his feet. “Hold on, be right back,” he says quickly to his teammates.

He rushes after Logic and catches him just turning the corner. “Wait a sec, Logic.”

Logic turns, smiling at his friend. “What’s up?”

Skizz hesitates, then clasps Logic’s hands and presses a small item into them. “Stay safe, buddy,” he says earnestly, before turning and rushing back to his team.

Logic stares after him for a moment before opening his hands to check the item Skizz gave him.

It’s a totem of undying.

…

Logic is perched atop the sky island, firing down on the ghasts from above. Far down on the ground, he can see the figures of Doc and Xisuma taking on the ground mobs. Even though he’s not great at fighting, Logic is far better with a bow than a sword.

A ghast screech behind him causes him to spin round. To his horror, he finds a ghast staring directly at him from less than a hundred blocks away, a fireball already flying towards him. He swings his axe back, ready to try and hit it back at the flying mob, but he mis-hits and the fireball knocks him clean off the island. And it’s only now that he realises he forgot to grab the elytra from the chest.

Logic can’t help a scream as he plummets, hands fumbling for anything he can use to save himself. But he has no hay bales, no buckets of water, no elytra. Nothing except…

His fingers close around the totem of undying JUST before he hits the ground. The loud explosion-like sound and spray of green sparkles lets him know the totem worked. He hurriedly scrambles into the nearest house and shuts the door, breathing heavily.

“Logic, you okay?” comes Xisuma’s voice over the radio.

“Y-Yeah, all good,” replies Logic shakily. “Gimme a second.”

He checks himself down. No injuries anywhere.

A smile spreads over his face. “Thanks for looking out for me, Skizz,” he murmurs.

…

Skizz sits on the stairs leading up to the seating area, absently twirling the flower in his hand. As is the same after every event, his mind is occupied by racing thoughts and ideas of how he could have done better.

“Penny for ‘em?” comes a friendly voice.

Skizz glances up to find Logic coming up the stairs towards him. “Hey, buddy. Nah, you don’t wanna hear about my stupid thoughts.”

Logic sits down next to Skizz. “Try me.”

After a moment, Skizz sighs. “I dunno, I just can’t help feeling that I held my team back. We came last overall and… it was probably my fault.”

“No, dude, I can assure you it wasn’t,” responds Logic kindly. “Nobody held their team back. You’re always gonna feel like that on a team with two hermits.”

“Did you feel like that?”

“Yeah, I did. I always do when I’m in the presence of hermits. It’s only natural, really. You feel like an imposter almost, like you shouldn’t be playing with such esteemed people. Like even your best will pale in comparison to their average. Like…”

As Logic trails off, Skizz glances sideways at him and finds him staring numbly into thin air. “You okay…?”

Logic blinks himself out of his thoughts. “Oh. Yeah, sorry. Anyway, my point is don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“It’s hard not to be,” responds Skizz morosely. “I don’t think I can name a single useful thing I did that wasn’t what False or Impulse told me to do.”

“I can,” Logic says immediately.

Skizz raises an eyebrow. “How would you know? What can I have done that you would know about?”

“You gave me the totem of undying,” replies Logic pointedly.

Skizz stares at him for a moment. “Wait… really…?”

Logic nods. “I fell off the top island in the fourth round. No elytra, no water, nothing. That totem you gave me saved my life. Even if that was the only useful thing you did unprompted in the whole game, which I doubt, it was worth it to me.”

“Aww…” Skizz puts his arm over Logic’s shoulder. “I’m glad I could help you out, brother.”

The two fall silent for a moment.

Then Logic clears his throat. “So… those mobs that looked like us…”

“Creepy as hell.”

“Extremely creepy,” agrees Logic. “It was cool at first but when a mob that looked like you was trying to bite my face off, it wasn’t quite as cool.”

Skizz blinks. “Oh jeez, that sounds terrifying.”

“And painful too,” Logic says, holding up his hands to show off the red claw marks down his arms.

“Wait, wait, what?!” Skizz stares at the wounds in shock. “That was mob-me?!”

“Yeah, it was vicious. Nearly killed me.”

“Oh gosh…” Skizz shivers. “I’m so sorry.”

Logic laughs. “Skizz, it was a zombie retextured to look like you! You have no reason to apologise.”

After a moment, Skizz nods. “I guess. And hey, I had to watch a mob that looked like you get burned alive in lava, so…”

“All in all, a very good round for nightmares, then.”

“You’re telling me.”

Another pause follows this, punctuated by Skizz rising to his feet and stretching. “Man, I’m worn out. Wanna go hang out with the gang before we go home? Say goodbye to everyone?”

“Thanks, but I don’t think I’d be very good company,” Logic responds. “I’m pretty tired and there wouldn’t be much point in me being there if I don’t talk anyway.”

“You’re always good company to me, brother,” says Skizz warmly. “Even when you don’t talk.”

Logic can’t help a smile. “Thanks. Okay then, I’ll come along.”

“Awesome!”

As the two head down the stairs, Logic adds, “And you usually do a pretty good job at interpreting for me, anyway.”

“Usually?” Skizz pretends to be affronted. “Uh, I’m AMAZING at reading your thoughts, thank you very much.”

Logic chuckles. “Uh huh, sure. You know what you're NOT amazing at?"

"What?" asks Skizz warily.

"Beating me in a fighting-based competition."

"OKAY LISTEN-."

#twitch rivals #hermit raiders #skizzleman #logicalgeekboy #vaunna writes