#we should have gotten at least half a season of that

[disneyprincemuke]

is it killing you like it’s killing me?

alternatively: we haven’t spoken in almost a week (prev)

in which she and logan try to navigate the worst part about dating your literal coworker

(series masterlist)

logan sits in his seat, leaning forward to prop himself up on his elbow as he tries to type away on his phone in the least awkward way possible. he hears the heels clicking against the gravel first before he catches a whiff of a familiar floral scent.

he doesn't turn his head directly, just shifts his eyes to his side, watching his literal girlfriend walk right past him without even stopping by to greet him. he can almost make out the sound of her sweet voice amidst the noise around him, her shocking choice for a dark motif outfit contrasting against the pure white of the person next to her.

only then he realises that his girlfriend is quite literally walking around the paddocks with mercedes personnel. she engages in casual conversation with susie wolff every once in a while around the paddocks, but never has he seen her out and about with her. mick trails behind them, looking down at his phone as he matches their pace.

upon simply walking past the williams patio, mick looks up at the lack of the younger driver's acknowledgement of the guy in blue sitting very obviously in the white chair. mick cranes his neck back, shooting logan a questioning stare.

to which, logan only shrugs. mick is one of the few friends that she decided to tell; by that, he means that they got caught sneaking around the paddocks last year right by the haas racing home.

"still walked right past you?" a british accent makes logan tear his eyes off his girlfriend, meeting alex's brown eyes as he approaches the table. "how bad was the fight that you guys had?"

"pretty bad," logan mutters with a small smile, putting his phone down gently on the table. "did george tell you anything? did she tell them anything about the fight we had?"

alex frowns, shaking his head. logan came out and confessed that they, in fact, have been in a relationship for about two years. at first, alex was a bit appalled that logan was able to lie to him so fluently for the majority of the season.

after he processed his initial reaction, which only took about a minute or so, alex cheered and congratulated logan. as far as alex was concerned, it physically hurt to watch this young man be head over heels for someone he presumed to not be as interested in him as he is with her.

with his new-found knowledge of their involvement, alex went on a mission to pry george and lando - the people she's consistently stuck with all week - to try and figure out if she's said anything to them. or, has at least told them what's running through her mind.

alex did immediately run off. he was not glad to find out that his friends found out before him, but was very excited to share his new discovery.

he ran to the mercedes' racing home about an hour ago, squealing and giggling as he yanked george away from toto to talk. they were shortly joined by lando, spewing detailed accounts of the night he caught them in japan on a date.

then lando dropped his giggles, shaking his head at the assumption that their fight looked like it had gotten pretty bad. george then perks up, whispering very softly and incoherently about how bad it had seemed two nights ago during the opening ceremony rehearsal.

"they said she's been quite reserved since the first night," alex explains, lips pursed as he tries to remember everything that had nothing to do with the fact that he disappeared for a hot half hour because they derailed from the original topic of conversation.

alex found themselves talking about how they saw her crying in max's arm the other night, then concluding the conversation with what hair colour he should get next. "they said she's been with max a lot. hasn't even really talked to oscar, lando said."

logan scoffs, locking his jaw. he's not saying he's jealous of max verstappen, though it does seem to be that way to the naked eye.

okay so he's jealous of max verstappen. but in his defence, who wouldn't be? logan finds himself consistently at the back of the grid race after race, and there is his girlfriend sharing simple celebrations with the two-time world champion.

more often than not, on a race weekend, when she has to force a little distance from him to avoid partaking in the rumour mill, she's adopted by the older drivers to shower with information and a lot of love.

"yeah, she was walking with susie earlier," logan gestures at the long stretch ahead of them in the paddocks. "and she's wearing black."

"black?" alex repeats, raising an eyebrow. "like full black?" logan nods. "oh, you guys have got to talk soon. how long haven't you talked?"

"about a week."

"god," alex cries, rubbing his eyes. "okay, okay. we'll find a way to make you guys talk, okay?"

"how? she's been avoiding me all week. and i think this is something we need to come together on our own and figure out."

logan does have a big ego, but it all seems to fall apart when it comes to her. it's always been a topic for shits and giggles growing up though that seemed to change after they went on their first date.

almost immediately, everyone could tell how head over heels he was just for her.

"yeah, but neither of you is even trying?" alex points out, tilting his head and furrowing his eyebrows. "are you serious?"

"i can see how i worded that wrongly."

alex pushes his chair back, heading straight for the building behind them. "i will consult the madman. wait right here."

"whoa!" logan calls out, throwing his arms in the air. "you told your girlfriend that i have a girlfriend? dude, you were sworn to secrecy!"

"you're not as convincing as (y/n), from what i heard," alex purses his lips together, shaking his head. "and, lily knew before me, anyway. oscar's girlfriend whispered it in her ear when they went to the club last night when (y/n) refused to go out on the dance floor."

"fine. but come back with good news only."

"i'll try my best."

"it wasn't easy, i guess," toto shrugs, his office chair being manoeuvred around his small office by his feet planted against the floor. he stirs the coffee in his cup and looks at the girl curled into a ball in the chair on the other side of his table. "you need to put each other above the results of a weekend. you should not have let that get to you."

"but i guess it is kinda hard watching your girlfriend achieve the things you want to also be achieving," susie mutters, fingers pressed against her lips as she thinks.

for susie to know of her relationship with logan, you'd have to date back to over two years ago. susie had been fully vouching for her, trying to get her opportunities in a higher level to help her progress. so, of course, she had to excitedly tell susie about it.

if there was anyone who would be supportive, it's her. and susie didn't find a problem in their relationship, only claiming to tread carefully since they are always racing against one another.

susie is just more surprised that the difference in performance and the pressure of it all only just got to them now. racing alongside one another in f2 should have been the one that did it, but she guesses it's because they used to be a lot closer in the results back then.

"basically," toto sighs, blowing cold air into his cup of coffee. "put your relationship first if you want to make this last. and i know logan means a lot to you, so i am sure you will find a way around this."

"but why did it feel like it was my fault that he wasn't achieving the same things as me?" she sighs, throwing her head back into the wall with a soft thud. she looks at the ceiling of toto's office, knees to her chest as she hides away from the cameras and the prying questions of those who know of their relationship.

"you need to come together in the moments of hard times," toto mutters, shaking his head. "he's not doing well; you are doing well. find a middle ground."

"how am i supposed to do that, toto?" she yelps, melting into the seat, legs and arms spreading as she scratches the top of her head. "we literally just had the biggest fight of our relationship. two nights ago, i didn't even think there was no other way out of this but a breakup until max made me talk to susie."

the reason she's been following max instead of sebastian around all weekend is because she thought that he would be able to figure it out with her. alas, they were both stumped that night of the rehearsals, sipping on beer in a nearby bar.

she found herself hopeless, bracing herself to admit defeat to the pressures of dating someone within the sport. until max perked up after chugging half his glass of gin and tonic, eyes shimmering as the greatest idea he's had all night finally came to him.

"you know who i bet had to navigate a tricky situation?" max asked her, pointing a finger to her face knowingly. "susie and toto."

she hesitated, but max did make a compelling case. all he had to say was: "she used to race and he was an investor in the motorsport."

"i think," susie speaks, then pauses as she flutters her eyes to think for a moment, "that you're both great kids."

"thanks, that's exactly what my mum said," she answers flatly, unamused at the answer.

"so it might not be as difficult to resolve it," susie smiles. "i'm sure you can find a way."

"i'm here because i don't know a way," she repeats, throwing her arms around in the air. "you can't just say that to me and expect me to come up with a resolution instantly. i've avoided my boyfriend for almost a week because i thought there was only one solution!"

susie exchanges a smile with her husband, who is quietly giggling to himself at his table. then she looks at the young driver with a smile that emits less ridicule. "i can't do that for you. you have to figure it out with him; not us."

"are you saying i need to go and talk to him?" she frowns, folding her arms over her chest. "like i have to go up to him and talk to him? in person?"

"you can't do it over text message," toto frowns in confusion. he lifts his eyes to look at susie. "right?"

"she can," susie laughs, sitting on the armrest of his seat. she looks at the driver again. "but she shouldn't."

“handle this like an adult.”

“fine.”

logan was simply minding his own business in his driver's room when alex barged in (he's been doing that for the past week because he knows there's no possibility of a girl inside) and dragged him out.

he wasn't going to ask questions, he just followed alex blindly, dropping his head low in confusion.

right by the steps that lead into the william's racing home, their small group is huddled into a makeshift circle. they're leaned in with hushed whispers and excited giggles with lando even getting a bit loud with every couple of words he said.

she likes to call them the elite group that's somehow managed to find out about her and logan, though everyone argued with her that they didn't make much of an effort to really keep it under wraps.

"okay, so we came up with a plan," alex says, finally letting go of logan's sleeve.

max lifts his head, hands on his hips. "i wouldn't trust any plan you come up with."

"hey, i came up with that plan," lily.m scoffs, holding a hand against her chest. "excuse you."

"oh, then that's better," george agrees with a smile. "so what have you come up with?"

"really? you trust a plan that had alex's input on it?" lando cries, scratching his head. "you're gonna break them up! that's not the outcome we're trying to achieve, people! focus!"

"highly offended, actually," lily.m frowns. "like you can come up with a better plan."

alex waves his arms in the air in an attempt to hush the chatter that his friends are in. "no, listen! it's a good plan!"

"i also have a plan," mick speaks up, reaching his arm out into the middle of the circle to get their attention.

"i'd trust him more than whatever you two have come up with," max mutters, pointing at the couple accusingly.

logan actually appreciates the banter that's going on and it almost makes him forget the real reason they've all gathered here today. it's refreshing to be the one in the middle of older drivers' conversations.

this must be why his girlfriend has grown quite fond of them. but it's hard not to feel like an outsider.

"hey, we spent the better part of our alone time in my driver's room scheming!" alex defends himself, reaching out to push mick's arm away.

"hey, don't do that!" george laughs, smacking the back of alex's hand. "apologise!"

"guys," oscar finally speaks up. "i think we should address the problem at hand?"

"we will, but max says my plan would never work!" alex squeaks. "take that back!"

"i'm only speaking the truth!"

"but mate-"

"what are you guys doing?"

"hold on, (y/n), max is being- (y/n)!" alex screams just as everyone turns their head to find the smaller girl looking up at their group with a weird stare. she holds a pepsi tightly in her hands, pressing it against her chest as she takes an innocent sip.

logan feels his heart drop at the sight of his confused girlfriend standing there staring at them with wide eyes. but he also just feels an overwhelming surge of relief finally being this close to her again.

oscar is right: this is the longest they've gone without talking since they all met during karting. even his months-long trips back to florida never kept them apart from one another for this long. a couple days at best before they start falling back into old habits.

"we're having a," max trails, turning his head back to desperately search for somebody who can finish his sentence for him. "a..."

"we're discussing what to get for supper after the opening ceremony later," lily grins, elbowing oscar beside her to push him forward slightly.

oscar stumbles a step forward, clearing his throat as he meets his best friend's eyes. "yeah, we haven't found a place yet. we were just about to find you to ask you if you had any ideas!"

"and you're all going together?" she asks suspiciously, her eyes slowly scanning the participants of the circle. she momentarily meets logan's eyes before she settles for oscar's gaze again. "all of you?"

lando looks around, realising how weird their group has grown to be. he takes the initiative to answer her: "yeah. why not?"

she presses her lips together, moving her head to the side slightly to show him that she's not entirely buying the lie. "really?”

“yeah,” max nods excitedly. “we couldn’t find you so we discussed first.”

“but i’ve never seen you,” she points at oscar, then at logan, “and you hang out with george before.”

logan raises his eyebrows, taken aback by her sudden verbal acknowledgement of his presence. he shrugs, then turns his head to oscar for help.

“what, we can’t get to know each other over dinner?” george calls out with a scoff. “all this criticism — do you even know of a place we can go to to get some late-night food?”

“can it wait?” she asks sweetly with a small smile. “i kinda need to talk to logan alone.”

there’s a moment of silence.

“you’re making dinner plans without us, aren’t you,” mick jokes, furrowing his eyebrows at her. “why would you do that?”

she laughs, walking towards her boyfriend with a hand held out to his arm. “i just need to steal him for a little while — i promise we’ll head out to supper with you guys tonight.”

her hand lands on logan’s arm, wrapping itself around his arm. “we’ll catch you guys later?”

“okay,” max answers hesitantly. “don’t forget to think of where to eat.”

“max,” alex says through gritted teeth, hitting his shoulder.

“what?” max asks innocently, throwing his arms in the air as they start to pull away from the group.

she barely takes two steps away from them before she whispers to him, “can i talk to you for a bit?”

“yeah, of course,” logan nods, putting a hand on the small of her back. “your room?”

she nods with a small smile, then picks up her pace. she reaches back for his wrist, making him flinch at the first feel of her skin he’s gotten in the longest time. but he doesn't pull away, just lets the sliver of skin he can feel past the cuff of his fireproofs warm him up.

she rushes up the stairs leading up to the door of her racing home, head hung low as they navigate an all too familiar route. a route he hasn’t taken all week, but has been wanting to, and coward away from.

they’ve only got 15 minutes to figure this out in one sitting before it’s considered suspicious. they never stay in for too long to avoid suspicions within her team. just like a teenage couple would, they eventually keep the door open to prove that they're definitely not doing anything suspicious inside.

she greets her team principal with a small smile before she disappears into the stairs with logan still letting himself be dragged in by her. she makes a quick sharp turn into her room and closes the door behind her.

she faces the door, her heart racing in her chest and her hands start to sweat at the thought of confrontation over their intense fight. she came straight from toto's office and went to find logan, only to be told by james that he was dragged out by alex a few minutes prior.

she takes a deep breath and turns around and barely has the time to process just how much she's missed her boyfriend because she's being pulled into his arms in a tight hug.

"i'm sorry," logan mutters into her hair, his arms desperately clinging to her smaller frame.

she slowly lifts her arms, wrapping them around his torso to return the tight grip. "i'm sorry. i didn't mean what i said - i'm sorry."

"no, you're right. it's not my fault that i can't deliver for races. i shouldn't have taken it out on you," logan sighs, pulling away. "it's- oh, please don't cry."

"i'm sorry," she repeats, starting to heave heavily out of guilt. just the sheer thought that breaking up might have been the only way has been eating at her all day. "logan, i-"

"please don't cry," logan whispers, his lips pressing as a knot forms on his forehead. great. now they're both crying. his thumbs swipe over both her cheeks in an attempt to dry her tears but the new ones just keep undoing his efforts. "you can cry but don't make me cry. only one of us can cry at a time."

and then she couldn't hold it in anymore. she breaks into a louder cry. "i'm sorry i thought breaking up was the only way out of this. i'm sorry - i just didn't see how we could have moved past something as big as what we were fighting about. i love you, logan, but i didn't know what else i could do. i'm sorry."

suddenly it felt like someone had thrown a knife directly into his chest. the entire week, the thought that she might have considered breaking up with him came up many times. he was good at keeping those thoughts at bay, but hearing it directly from her lips just felt different.

it hurt differently when it came from the person you think is your soulmate.

"oh."

she stifled a sob when he straightened his back and dropped his hands from her cheeks. "i didn't know what to do. i'm sorry. i didn't know how long more we could go on walking on eggshells every race we would have. i hated hurting you like that every weekend. i hated seeing you force smiles, laughter and neverminds just to accommodate to me.

"i," she cuts herself off, forcing herself to swallow the sob that's bubbled up from the deepest part of her chest. she tries to blink her tears away, but it falls anyway. she turns away from him momentarily to wipe it away on the cuff of her fireproof. "i couldn't keep doing that to you."

"you," logan sighs, throwing his head back, palms covering his eyes. "you really think that i care about any of that? i contemplated; i told you, two years ago every single outcome our relationship could have on us! you knew this was bound to happen and now you're telling me you thought about ending it over this?"

"because i saw the way you would look at me every weekend! you didn't look at me the way you did in singapore when i was up on that podium when we were in bahrain at the start of the year. you can say you love me and that you're happy for me, but i can tell!"

"tell what?"

"i can tell that however much you loved me wasn't going to be enough for you to push away the growing feeling of-" she sighs, and tears her eyes away from him. she settles for the teddy bear sitting on her bean bag. she presses her lips together, jaw locking as she hates herself for what she's about to say. "of eventually hating me."

"why would you ever think that i could grow to hate you?" logan rubs his face roughly, then runs his hands through his hair. "i- god, i'm so in love with you! i was - i am - happy for you, but i could also see the pity in your eyes every weekend that i would finish behind you! you're sorry for me! i don't need that from you - everybody already always looks at me that way."

"because i know you on the track! i've raced against you my entire career - i know what you're capable of!"

"then why do you keep looking at me like i'm always just going to crash out every race?"

"i want to see you succeed! i hate seeing you like this! i hate having to go everywhere and watch and listen and look at people speaking about you like this! you're nothing like what they say!"

"i don't need your pity! i need you to be my girlfriend - i put you above what happens on a race weekend. if you succeed, then you succeed and then you can go and celebrate! but i never minimised any of your achievements just because my race went haywire. if i crash out and you've somehow managed to break a record, that's okay! it's doesn't fucking matter, because your achievements obviously mean the entire world more than that.

"stop trying to think of what i will feel when you succeed. i'm your boyfriend - i am always going to be happy for you. separate our results from our relationship. if you keep letting it get in the way, this will never work."

she straightens her back and snaps her head to him. "you want to break up with me?"

"no," logan sighs, shaking his head tiredly. he takes a step forward, her eyes dropping to his feet then lifting it to meet his eyes. "i don't want to break up with you, i'm just- i didn't speak to you very nicely before we left for vegas. i think i didn't word myself appropriately and i'm sorry."

"you were right about some points, honestly, it doesn't-"

"i didn't mean to blame you for the way i was feeling, and neither was it my intention to back you into a corner because i couldn't get a grip in an f1 car. it's not right."

"but, logan-"

"stop trying to take care of me and my feelings. i promise i always literally get over it when i see your team throwing you around when you make history."

"that's not fair," she says softly, leaning into his touch when he lifts his hand to cup her cheek. "you can feel feelings too. i don't want you to deprive yourself of that."

"i can be sad about it another day that doesn't interfere with you. it doesn't matter what i'm feeling retiring from a race when you never fail to deliver results."

"that doesn't solve my problem, logan. i don't want you to hate me."

"i'm never going to hate you," he laughs softly, throwing his arms around her for another embrace. "why would you ever think that?"

"because i've seen this happen to friends in the same field. one succeeds more than the other, and the latter can't cope. it almost always ends up falling apart."

"emphasis on 'friends'," logan smiles slightly, bending down to meet her at her height. "you're my girlfriend. we're always going to have to find ways around shit like this. we knew that when we started dating. right?"

"yeah? but it just doesn't sound like a solution i'll be okay with."

"i promise i'm trying to get better so i can redeem that one deal we made in bahrain at the start of the year."

"god, logan! you're disgusting!" her hand comes down to land a smack on his shoulder.

he bursts out laughing and leans down again to make their noses touch. "we're going to be okay."

"really?" she grins shyly, her hand resting above the back of his hand that's pressed up against her cheek. "you really think we'll be okay even if we're in f1 for the rest of our lives?"

"i know so. i know that because my mama didn't raise no quitter - i'm never leaving you."

"why'd you have to ruin it?"

"it was getting too sappy."

"maybe i preferred you guys when you were fighting," max scoffs, walking away from the seat he's just been evicted from. "you were able to act like two normal human beings."

"everything about this week is normal!" george cries, shaking his head. "she wore sunglasses indoors after making fun of me for it! how is that fair?"

"i literally told you i'm sitting next to logan," the younger driver states, glaring at max. "you went and sat next to him anyway. you did this to yourself."

"we're in america - it's called first come first serve."

"i literally don't think that's how it works," alex sighs, turning to look at max. "be better, max."

"trust me, i'm trying."

kidy/n

liked by logansargeant, blythe.yln and 73,482 others

kidy/n guys we’re still friends i promise i just can’t stand him when he makes me go fish with him because huh

view 13 comments…

comments on this post have been limited.

logansargeant no cuz why did u post this

logansargeant i thought you were joking

kidy/n learn to take me seriously every once in a while idk

oscarpiastri appropriate picture to end the us races imo

sebastianvettel ?

yukitsunoda0511 i’ll go fishing with u logan :/

lilyzneimer i’m going to have to disagree on this y/n

kidy/n please say jk right now i know you’re not defending this fish murderer

georgerussell63 hahahahahahahaha

kidy/n ?

williamsracing can we borrow these pics? asking for a friend

kidy/n merch with these photos?

williamsracing we’ll deliver it straight to your doorstep

logansargeant ???

@littlesatanicassholebitch @what-is-happening-helpp @myxticmoon @gentlyweeps-world @nerdfromanotherworld @n7ytiri @alliesreblogs

#quite the write #u dont understand #it took me 2 hours writing logan and femdriver's scene alone #wtffff #logan sargeant #logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant x you #female driver #fem!driver #f1 female driver #f1 x you #f1 #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1 #disneyprincemuke ial

[spacebarbarianweird]

Soooo, tell me, do you think Astarion would be jealous or possessive at times? Do you think he gets nervous about losing his partner?

Oh, he would definteley be possessive! I think it would come out of fear. Like, what if Tav dumps him for someone better?

Thanks @brabblesblog and @rachelle-on-the-run for beta-reading!

Doubts

Synopsis: Astarion thinks you are going to leave him for someone better and accuses you of infidelity.

Tags: Hurt/comfort, a heated argument

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

Astarion can't process what he feels.

Anger? Disgust? Disappointment? Betrayal?

You stand in the sunlight, bathing in the warm rays. You smile, sincere and happy, while he stands in the shadows like the monster he is.

A man, a handsome half-elf, with long and dark hair practically dances around you like a bird during mating season. He openly flirts with you and you giggle at his jokes.

You don't try to shut him down. You smile. You laugh.

Astarion can't hear the conversation, but he is sure you wouldn't talk like that if you knew he was near.

If it was night, he could easily grab your hand and threaten this man with the daggers.

But he can't.

He is useless.

The only thing he can do is to watch. He sees you taking the man's hand and then hugging him. Warm and tight.

It's too much even for him. 

He dissapears into the tunnels below the city. When he returns to the camp, it's already dark and you light a fire.

"Astarion,good news", you tell him. "We - What is wrong?"

He looks up at you. The anger is replaced with poison.

"If you wanted to fuck someone else, you should have just said so," he mutters through the teeth.

"What?" 

You dare to look surprised. Sure, why not. You aren't less manipulative than him. Learned from a professional.

"Oh, stop with this innocent smile! You know what I’m talking about! I've seen you flirting with that man. Tell me - is his body warm? Does his back look new and perfect?"

"You followed me."

"Answer the damn questions, Tav!"

You stand up.

"That was my friend. I knew him ages ago! I just didn't expect to meet him all of a sudden!"

"Come on, any common fool could see you were all over each other. You want to sleep with him? Fine. At least, you could be so kind as to tell me beforehand. I think I deserve it."

"Astarion, stop."

Your soft voice annoys him even more. 

He bursts. It's like a firestorm, unstoppable and cruel. He yells at you, spitting all the most disgusting insults as if it can numb at least some of his pain.

A whore. A slut. A bitch.

He yells at the top of his lungs. And then suddenly…

A slap.

Loud and painful. His cheek burns of how hard you've slapped him. It sobers him up and Astarion stares at you in shock. He wishes he could take all the words away. To go back in time and make himself stop before spitting all this poison.

"Tav..."

"GO AWAY!" 

He has never heard you screaming like that. You hate him. And he deserves it.

"GO FUCKING AWAY! I DON'T WANT TO SEE YOU!"

Tears stream down your face as you sit on the ground. Your body shudders.

And Astarion runs.

He disappears into the woods. In the darkness. In the cold.

The cheek still burns. You've never gotten physical with him - except for that first time when he almost drained you. Astarion sometimes remembers how you kicked him in the ribs.

But, maybe, it's all for the best? You can find a living person to spend your life with. Because what can he even offer? His nightmares? His pain? His tainted touches?

The very thought of you in someone else’s hands makes him sick. But at the same time, what did he expect after calling you all these awful names? 

He needs to disappear, forever.

But the further he goes, the worse he feels. The invisible leash tugs him back and his undead heart bleeds. 

The very idea of not seeing you, being alone, spending this condemned eternity on his own… He would prefer being flayed by a razor rather than living a day without you.

He needs to apologize. He needs to crawl back, begging for forgiveness. The same way he did when he was a slave.

Don't beat me. Don't torture me. I will do anything.

Don't leave me. Don't hurt me. I will do anything. 

As he returns to the camp, he sees you by the fire. You notice him and turn your head away.

"Please... I am sorry... I didn't mean it."

You look at him but instead of the softness he craves there is only cold. 

The only thing he desires is to hug you, to be pressed against your chest. To hear the words of love and comfort.

But there is an invisible wall between you two.

"Please… Don't leave me!" he begs. "I can't… I don't know how to live without you."

You sigh. "Astarion, I am not leaving you. But I am angry. I am angry like all the devils of Avernus."

"Then… I am sorry! I am sorry for calling you all these words, I am sorry for..."

"No, Astarion. It won't work like that. This relationship won’t work. "

Astarion is taken aback. "Then what do you want me to do?"

"I don't want you to do anything. But you need to understand that I have feelings, too."

Silence. Astarion is motionless.

"You are apologizing out of fear." you continue. "Because you’re used to expecting violence. I want you to apologize out of honesty. You hurt me. You accused me of infidelity. You called me all these slurs people used against you, perfectly knowing how much that hurts. You offended my friend, the person I grew up with, someone who I thought was dead. The person who gave me a very good contract just because I asked. For that, I need you to apologize."

You both are silent. Astarion looks somewhere in the distance. 

"Listen, Tav, you know I am like that. I can’t control it."

"You do! That's the thing. You were infantilized for two hundred years. But you are a man. You are not a boy, not a pet, not a slave. You don't need to be trained or taught. You are a man. And you must learn to be responsible for your actions. I understand why you are like that. But it doesn't mean I have to allow you to say anything you want."

The words hurt like daggers when he finally manages to say them out loud.

"I am sorry. I am sorry for thinking you could leave me. I am sorry for hurting you. My emotions took the best of me. I am afraid, I am constantly afraid. I am afraid you will leave me for what I am."

A touch. Soft and delicate. He feels like crying the moment your tender fingers caress his skin.

"And I am sorry for getting physical. I shouldn't have slapped you."

"I deserved it"

"No one deserves beatings. Especially, from their loved ones." 

You press your forehead against his. "You aren't an easy person to deal with, Astarion. But I knew it from the beginning. When you confessed to me, I had a chance to stop it. I didn't do it. Because I love you. But I am a living breathing person and if you hurt me, I bleed. "

He nods. "But if you ever want to end all this - "

"I won't"

He smiles and presses his finger against your lips. "If you ever decide it's too much, tell me. Just be honest. "

You wrap your hands around his neck and tug him close. "You know, when he hugged me, my first thought was "damn, his skin is so uncomfortably hot". And he told me we should stop it because his husband is jealous. I think they are having a very uncomfortable conversation right now."

You sit together in silence looking at the campfire. Soon, Astarion notices a stripe of light in the distance and his vampiric senses send a shiver down his spine.

You yawn.

"Let's get some rest. Astarion, I hate asking for reciprocation, but since you probably want to make amends…"

"What do you want, my sweet?"

"Can you please not leave my side while I sleep? Just be with me till I wake up."

He closes his eyes and lets out a short laugh. And this is your idea of making amends? A few hours ago he would beg you to let him touch you, let alone cuddle with you.

He cocks his head. "Only if you make amends for slapping me."

"And what do you want?"

"I want to be the little spoon."

--

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @astarion-beloved @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion romance #baldurs gate 3 #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion angst #astarion fanfic #astarion hurt #astarion comfort #astarion ancunin #astarion fics #astarion x f!tav #spacebarbarian fics #astarion x gn!tav #astarion x gn reader

[miedvma]

MEDDLE ABOUT

l. williamson x awfc!r

summary: jealous leah but she’s just a softie really

sharing hotel rooms with daan has always meant being up for anything she would come up with at half-past eleven at night, including painting her nails orange— and, of course, she’d have to paint yours too.

“yeah, for the netherlands!” danielle immediately reasons, her choice of colour still causing a disappointed frown on your face. “cause, you know, oranje leeuwinnen—”

you scoff. “i know, daan! it’s just.. orange is, uh, too much, no? plus, we’re like mid-season now— we should paint it red, for arsenal.”

danielle’s speech is followed by her expressing nothing but displeasure towards your suggestion, arguing that she’s constantly repressed by both her girlfriend beth and your girlfriend leah’s patriotism, insisting that you should stand by your roomie and best friend, getting your nails painted orange to rebel against the proud englishwomen’s system.

there is very little to discuss: dedonk can be particularly persuasive when she wants to win an argument, and so you find yourself with no other option than to settle your hands over her crossed legs and hope that neon bright orange suits you.

—

“hi love” leah peeps as she places a lovingly peck on the side of your neck, sitting down next to you for breakfast.

despite your strict no pda at work rule, the defender can’t really bring herself to be any less affectionate towards the girl she loves the most— and you eventually gave in on that once mutual agreement.

“hi love” you mock her tone, earning a roll of eyes and a shoulder nudge. “hi babe.” you quickly correct yourself, a satisfied smile taking place on your girlfriend’s lips.

as the defender devours her characteristic ham sandwich, her curious sparkly eyes watch closely as you sink a silver spoon on your berries bowl— most noticeably, your hands; more accurately, the weird coloration your fingernails are washed in.

“did you get your nails done?” asks a pouty leah, instantly shoving you out of the conversation you’ve gotten in.

you leave viv and her remarks about the game you’re about to attend on hold and turn your girlfriend, “mmh, do you like them?”

she doesn’t seem to like it. in fact, leah hates it when you get your nails done by yourself and don’t do hers as well— but as this had never happened before, you don’t really have any way of knowing it.

“you got them done without me.” she pouts again, her voice bathing in gloom. “oh, i’m so sorry babes, i’ll get yours done soon as we get home, yeah?” you use your nose to caress her cheek, then her own nose, and then manage to place a millisecond long kiss to her lips— causing the blonde to run out of words, cheeks blushing at the sudden interaction.

nonetheless the flushed older girl’s emotions, it doesn’t take too long before she’s back at cherishing her thoughts on the game ahead of you, herself quite really excited to attend to her favourite london derby.

as the morning progresses and you finally step into the pitch, leah’s excitement seems to fade away. which is a little strange, since you are well aware that beating spurs is still one of her greatest pleasures— so it does turn out weird for her to start acting a bit off out of nowhere, right?

well, not exactly. unbeknownst to you, leah’s got a pretty good reason to keep her distance from you (or at least that’s what she tells herself)—

“leah come on, you’re warming up with me” beth chimed in, causing the other blonde to furrow her eyebrows. “thought you’d team up with daan?”

“yeah no she’s taking the piss cause i said her nails look weird” beth’s eyes rolled as the defender worked the situation out on her head.

unable to settle for the other girls’ silly argument, leah’s gaze perked around the pitch just until she could evidence danielle’s neon orange nail polish.

it hit her harder. you getting your nails done without her? bad. you getting your nails done without her, with daan instead? worse. way worse.

—

“i literally scored a winner and you’re not even going to gimme a kiss?” you pout to your girlfriend, the both of you about to head home in her still parked car.

leah isn’t one to play differently or give any less of herself to win, but as soon as the whistle blew, there was no way of hiding it: the green monster inside her hadn’t really gone away.

“there’s um.. people here,” your girlfriend replies, nonchalant. indeed, there are people around the parking lot— teammates and staffers, all of them knowing about your relationship. besides, it’s not like she had ever cared about being seen anyway.

“right.” you mock her tone, leah giving you a stern stare until she realizes she had done the exact same thing before.

leah drives surprisingly slow, contradicting her clenched jaw and bitten lips. her lack of physical and verbal interaction, particularly in such moments, is highly unusual— especially considering arsenal’s victory, largely because of you. it’s easy for you to sense her irritation, and that is why you don’t exchange any more words the whole way home.

as soon as your girlfriend pulls up to your house you swiftly jump out of the car, hastening your steps to leave the girl alone, hoping some time apart might heal whatever conflict she’s found herself in.

it doesn’t. long after you’ve completed your extended skincare routine (usually a joint activity but not a good idea at the minute) and changed into comfortable clothes (opting not to wear leah’s, just in case), the house remains terribly silent.

your bed is empty when you leave the ensuite bathroom. the corridors are silent, and a peek into the guest bedroom reveals it to be just as empty. stepping into the dining room, you finally spot leah’s still-intact ponytail.

her head hangs down, probably slouched on the sofa; the tv is off, hinting that she’s mindlessly scrolling on her phone. you allow yourself to swallow your pride and prepare sandwiches for both of you before walking towards her.

as you hand her a plate, a mumbled “thank you” is all you get— her eyes still avoid meeting yours, or even your hand.

your girlfriend lets out a sigh before picking up the telly remote and switching on some rubbish reality show in an attempt to dispel the palpable silence— prudent, but ultimately ineffective.

“is something wrong?” you ask, your voice soft as always. leah usually finds your natural tone charming, but this evening even that doesn’t seem to be enough for her to open up about her troubled emotions.

she replies with a simple “nah,” but the distance between you speaks volumes to the contrary: even though the sofa can easily accommodate up to five people, your girlfriend always ensures there’s not a single atom between the two of you.

frustrated by the girl’s nonchalance, you decide to test how far her grumpiness can go. you remove both your plates and place them on the coffee table, hoping she’d take the hint— but she doesn’t. not at all.

the blonde remains in her original position, spread out on the sofa, elbow on the armrest, supporting her head against her fist, eyes glued to the screen, oblivious to your approach.

it is normally up to her to initiate closeness, drawing you in or melding you both together— so the fact that you’re moving closer on your own should prompt her to react, but nothing really happens, so you audibly huff as you stand up to leave the room in nothing but defeat.

“you’re sleeping on that sofa tonight.”

her head shoots up to look at you in disbelief. “no i’m not!”

“oh yes, you are.”

the blonde’s eyes roll back almost instinctively, and you shoot her a sharp look. “hey, no fair! you get other girl’s nails done, and i’m the one who’s supposed to sleep on the sofa?” her voice sounds genuine, yet tinged with frustration— and here she is, leah, in her purest and most absolute form, feeling nothing but betrayed by not having her nails done by her girlfriend.

“oh my god lee, is that why you’re all grumpy?” leah’s eyes dart around the walls, as if pretending you hadn’t just guessed it right. “danielle is my friend, our friend, you know that..” you chuckle, settling down next to her again.

“i know but— it’s our thing! and i mean, you’re pretty and all but that orange is just not it.” the defender glances at you with that one nonchalant expression that always reveals her disappointment, and you can only look back in amusement. how could you ever tire of how adorable she sounds when she’s jealous?

“just so you know, i’m really offended by you saying i don’t suit orange. and i do forgive you for being an asshole today.”

leah folds her arms, her look at you not good— but you had guessed earlier that calling her an asshole might irk her more (she kind of deserves it anyway). “you should be the one apologizing for breaking our rules!” the blonde hisses, though she couldn’t seem more harmless.

either way, you’re never willing to argue with your loving girlfriend. especially when you’re seeking a reward for your hard work after a tough game.

“okay, i’m sorry. i’m so sorry i let danielle do my nails, and i’m sorry i did hers. can i get a kiss now?”

a wide smile brightens the older girl’s face as her hand reaches for your hip, guiding you to lie down on the sofa with her on top of you. as she leans in and you blindly reach for her shoulders, a breathy laugh tickles your face, causing your eyes to widen.

“soon as you take that ugly-ass colour off your pretty nails, babe,” the blonde suggests, thinking she’s hilarious as she pulls herself off the mess she’s already made of you.

you scowl and toss a pillow her way, but she simply shrugs it off, fixed on watching the trashiest show imaginable.

realizing you won’t get any favours from her unless you get rid of the questionable colour on your nails, you rise from the sofa and set off to find some nail polish remover. “want me to bring the red one so i can do yours?”

you spot a smirk forming on the lips of the girl lazily lounging on the sofa. “no need love, gonna save my hands for other kinds of activities now.”

#leah williamson x reader #woso x reader #woso imagine #leah williamson #awfc #engwnt

[horangare]

my babysitter’s a vampire

pairing : vampire!hoshi x human!reader

content : smut (mdni), strangers to ???

in which : your parents hired a babysitter after deeming you as the “irresponsible” older sibling. when someone who isn’t junhui shows up in his place, you’re instantly captivated by this handsome stranger and his shiny white teeth.

warnings : grinding, fingering, finger sucking, big dick soonyoung, blood, mentions of a knife and minimal bodily harm (you cut your finger), unprotected sex (but mentions of birth control, be safe either way), cocky soonyoung (ugh i want him so bad), you threaten him with a fork, bff!chaeryeong, dirty talk, pet names, bulge kink (i think that’s everything but pls let me know if i forgot anything)

wc : 4.8K words

note : look y’all i am the youngest of four sisters so idk if my portrayal of a younger brother is a good one but…this is for u hoshi nation horanghae.

“What do you mean?! I don’t need a babysitter!”

Your mom sighed deeply, searching her jewelry box for her matching earring. “I’m sorry honey, but you do. Your sister clearly isn’t responsible enough.” You rolled your eyes, but remained quiet. “And I know Junhui’s mom. She says he’s a very nice boy who’s good with children.”

Ever since you and Chaeryeong shut yourselves in your room to rewatch Girl From Nowhere for the millionth time again and speculate if there would really be a third season, (Chaeryeong insisted there would be, while you thought the opposite) the fact that you were supposed to be babysitting your younger brother had completely slipped your mind. When your parents returned from their date, they pulled into the driveway only to find Leo out there screaming his head off.

After that, you were quickly deemed “irresponsible” by your parents and no longer allowed to be Leo’s babysitter. What did they want you to do? You couldn’t spend all summer break looking after the little brat. Anyway, it’s not like that was the part that bothered you, but the fact that you couldn’t talk or beg her out of it either.

“Mom, come on! I’m eight and a half now! I can pretty much babysit myself!” Leo crossed his arms over his chest, standing in the doorway so your mother couldn’t leave the room without giving him, in all his childhood glory, the explanation he felt he so richly deserved.

“It’s too late. Junhui is already on his way and we’ve already paid him.” She leaned down, kissing him on the forehead. “Promise me you’ll be good.”

Your brother glanced to the side, like he was actually considering not being on his best behavior, before nodding and smiling at your mom. “I promise.” What a little shit.

“That’s my boy. And the same goes for you, [Y/n]. Chaeryeong over but she cannot stay the night. Am I clear?”

You smiled, not even bothering to make it seem real or genuine. “Crystal clear, mom. Have fun with dad.”

“Yeah, yeah. We should be back at around eleven.” Your mom mumbled, making her way down the stairs and to the front door where your dad was waiting. You followed behind her, mostly so you could slam the door in a pitiful act of retaliation and lock it shut until your friend arrived, but also because you wanted to see what this Junhui kid looked like up close.

You’d seen him maybe once or twice before around campus or at the cute little coffee shop you frequented, but you had never gotten a close hard look at his face before. Some of your friends knew him, according to them he was kind of weird, but made up for it with his sense of humor. Maybe he could keep you some decent company before Chaeryeong showed up.

The boy on the other side of the door was not Junhui. At least, you didn’t think so. This boy was a little shorter, a little blonder, and a lot finer than you’ve ever seen Junhui look.

“Oh! Hello, are you…Junhui?” Your mom asked, raking her eyes over the boy standing before her.

“Hi. No, sorry, Jun couldn’t make it. I’m Soonyoung, I’m a friend of his. Can I come in?”

“Oh, sure. Leo? Your babysitter’s here!”

“He’s so hot. And he’s totally your type, don’t you think?”

“Chaeryeong, please!” You slapped your hand over her mouth, earning a dirty look from the girl standing beside you. She was right, this Soonyoung guy was super good looking, but she didn’t have to say it out loud. He was still a stranger after all. A hot one, but a stranger nonetheless, and it was only normal for you to have your reservations. “He’s not even the guy who’s supposed to be here. Junhui was supposed to be Leo’s babysitter. He says he’s his friend.”

Chaeryeong rolls her eyes, not understanding what your problem was. “I wouldn’t be complaining if I were you. Look, even Leo likes him.”

You and Chaeryeong watched from the kitchen island as Soonyoung helped Leo with his homework in the living room, and it’s the first time you’ve ever seen your brother smile while doing homework. Neither of you could hear what they were saying, for some reason you doubted it was about fractions—fractions were not funny.

The longer you observed them—mostly Soonyoung—the more you realized how right your friend was. He was fine. Really fine. It’s like there was some kind of aura around him, something almost otherworldly.

That’s when you started to stare. Like the hard, not even blinking type of stare. Soonyoung turned his head over his shoulder, the two of you making eye contact in what felt like the most awkward way ever. He smiled at you though, which made your cheeks feel embarrassingly warm, before giving his attention back to your brother. Chaeryeong, having watched the entire exchange, grinned while looking you up and down.

“You’re staring.” She mumbled.

Feeling like a stubborn child about to throw a tantrum, you narrowed your eyes and pouted. “Was not.”

Your friend was no doubt satisfied with herself, cooing at you and cupping your face with her hands to squish your cheeks together. “Denial is not a good look for you. Come on,” she released your face to pat you on the shoulder. “let’s go watch a movie before I leave.”

Looking back at the living room, you saw your brother sitting on the couch alone with no signs of Soonyoung. Some babysitter, you thought, leaving the kid he’s supposed to be looking after alone. How could your parents leave someone so irresponsible in charge of your brother?

Oh, wait…

“Just wait for me in my room. I’ve gotta use the bathroom.” She nodded, heading upstairs to your room while you made your way to the bathroom in the hall and swinging open the door.

“What the fuck?” Soonyoung shouted, tearing his eyes away from the mirror above the bathroom sink to look at you. Gasping, you took a step back from him.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know—” You started to apologize, glancing behind him into the mirror and you froze. The spot where his reflection should be was empty. You took another step back.

“You didn’t know…what?”

If you weren’t so scared right now, you would’ve definitely been offended by the way he was speaking to you like you owed him an explanation for wanting to use the bathroom in your house. You looked at him, then the mirror once more, trying to make it as subtle as possible.

“Uh…nothing! So sorry again.” You said, laughing awkwardly to diffuse the tension and backing away from him far enough until you were close enough to retreat up the stairs and to your room. Chearyeong, seated comfortably in your bed, snapped her head away from her phone to see you clutching your chest and panting.

“Woah, what happened?” She asked as she sat upright. “Why do you look like you just ran a marathon?” With one of your hands, you gestured that you needed more time to catch your breath before taking a deep breath and stepping closer to the bed.

“He doesn’t have a reflection.”

Chaeryeong raised one of her eyebrows. “The babysitter? Are you sure?”

“Yes, of course I’m sure! He was in front of the bathroom mirror but the mirror was, like, empty!”

You could tell she wasn’t really sure whether you were telling the truth or not, making you groan and cover your face with your hands. “I’m really fucking serious! There’s something wrong with him, Chaeryeong!”

A heavy sigh sounded from Chaeryeong’s place on your bed. “I don’t know…what kind of person doesn’t have a reflection?”

“All humans have reflections,” you shrugged, your head tilted as your mind considered each and every possibility. “maybe he isn’t human.”

Chaeryeong snorted and rolled her eyes. “What is he then? A vampire?” The comment was definitely meant to be a joke given the way she’d said it, but the way your eyes widened and jaw drop was all too serious. “Oh my god, is he really a vampire?”

You looked around your room frantically, feeling the smallest bit of relief when you saw your laptop resting on your beside table. Chaeryeong made room for you in the bed, watching as your fingers flew over the keys.

How to identify a vampire.

“Asks to be invited into your home…no reflection…powerful presence or aura,” you skimmed over the first three bullet points shown before you and felt your mouth go dry. Soonyoung, so far, was definitely fitting the description of a vampire.

“Look,” Chaeryeong pointed to the next bullet point and read it aloud. “When a person is injured, make sure to find out if their focus is more on the injured person or the injury itself.” You looked at her, unsure of what his point was. Nobody in the house had been injured?

“Yeah, so?”

“So we’ve gotta injure you.” She scoffed, a little confused as to how you weren’t following her crazy thought process.

You leaned away from her. “What? Why does it have to be me?”

“You’re the one that wants to prove it so bad, aren’t you?” It was hard to argue with that one, you were the one who brought it up in the first place. You grumbled and slammed your laptop shut.

“Fine! But if we do all this and he ends up being just some guy I’m expecting a very long apology from you.”

Chaeryeong just smiled brightly at you. “Yes, ma’am.”

Soonyoung had brought Leo up to bed much earlier than he thought he would; your brother mumbled something about using all his brainpower on the fractions, and Soonyoung had laughed and tucked him into the covers. When he returned downstairs, he noticed the kitchen lights were on. Once he reached the bottom, he could see Chaeryeong holding your quivering body in the kitchen, a knife and an apple discarded on the kitchen island.

“What happened?” He asked, the faintest hint of worry in his voice.

The truth of what happened is quite simple; you and Chaeryeong snuck down here while Soonyoung was putting Leo to bed, she gave you a small (but still painful) cut on your index finger, and now you were standing here trying to sell it.

“[Y/n] was gonna split this apple with me, but I totally forgot how awful she is with knives. I think she cut her finger open, does it look bad?” Chaeryeong grabbed your wrist, holding your now opened hand closer to Soonyoung’s face. The blood had pooled where the cut was and started to streak down your finger. He sucked in a breath, struggling to look away from it.

“Y-Yeah, it looks pretty bad.” Soonyoung gulped, watching the red liquid falling down past your knuckles. He licked his lips, an action that didn’t go unnoticed by you, and you pulled your finger away. Then and only then did Soonyoung look at you in the eyes again.

“Everything okay? You seemed kind of distracted.” You tilted your head to the side. “You seemed really focused on the blood, don’t you think?”

Soonyoung scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Oh please, I was not.” You and Chaeryeong exchanged a look, and you held up your bleeding finger in front of his face again. Soonyoung’s focus shifted once more, his eyes zeroing in on the streak of blood that was beginning to go dry. You turned away to rinse it under the sink and shook off the water once it was all washed away.

“Yeah, okay.” Chaeryeong said, reaching into her pocket and handing you a band-aid. “So you’re a vampire, right?”

To say the least, Soonyoung seemed shocked and offended that you had caught him so easily, as if he hadn’t been the most obvious vampire ever. “What? A vampire? Please, how could you ever think that?” It was almost pathetic how he was actually trying to convince you otherwise when the evidence was already there, maybe he actually thought he could wiggle his way out of this.

“Look, we already know. Just drop it.” You sighed, and Soonyoung did the same.

“Aw, mannnnnnn.” He whined. “What gave it away?”

“Do you really want us to answer that?” Chaeryeong asked him, her voice riddled with sarcasm. Soonyoung looked down and mumbled the word “no,” and Chaeryeong nodded pointedly. “Thought so.”

So you were right. Soonyoung was a vampire. He was also your little brother’s babysitter. It’s funny, you could’ve sworn you’ve seen a show like this before a really long time ago, one whose name wasn’t coming to mind right now. Whatever, back to the main point. Soonyoung was a vampire.

“Why are you here?” You questioned him, holding up a fork to his neck. “Are you gonna kill us?”

“Woah, um, first of all,” He closed his hands around yours and lowered it, and you noticed how cold he felt. Probably another vampire thing. You snatched your hand away, and he seemed confused, but shook his head and continued on. “That silver thing? It’s just a myth. Second of all, why would I wanna kill you? It’s not like your parents wouldn’t notice. Not to mention we don’t go feeding on people randomly, consent is a thing, you know.” You could’ve laughed at that. A creature that survived off of draining the blood of others caring about their right to say no seemed ironic.

“And anyway, did you seriously expect to kill me with a fork?”

Chaeryeong burst into laughter, though she tried to play it off by coughing when she saw you glaring at her. “Sorry…” She picked up the fork and the knife and dumped them back into the silverware drawer to prevent you from making any more threats against Soonyoung. Your parents also didn’t trust you with metal utensils for…reasons similar to this.

You rolled your eyes. “So what happened to Junhui? Why couldn’t he come?”

The blond shrugged. “I dunno, he said that he was feeling sick, so he asked me to come in his place. Does that really matter?”

“Of course it matters! I don’t want some freaky undead creature looking after my little brother!” You retorted, raising your voice just a little. He might’ve been against eating people, but that didn’t change the fact that he was still a monster.

“[Y/n], that’s kinda…” Soonyoung held up one of his hands, signaling for Chaeryeong to stop talking.

“How do you know Jun isn’t a vampire?” He tilted his head as he asked that, then pursed his lips while he waited for your answer.

So he was a vampire and a smart-ass. Great.

“I don’t know!” You turned your head away from him. “This is just…freaky. I didn’t know vampires could be so—”

“Witty? Handsome? Charming? I know, I get that all the time.”

“Stupid.”

Chaeryeong laughed again.

Soonyoung raised one of his eyebrows. “Stupid guys must be your type then. Well, according to Chaeryeong, if I heard correctly.”

You looked at him, eyes wide. “You heard all that?” Soonyoung nodded, smiling when he noticed the way you reacted.

“Every single word. You know, maybe you should do more research.” He flicked you on the forehead and grinned when you let out a yelp of pain.

“Anyway.” Chaeryeong mumbled. “It’s getting late, my sister is on her way to get me. Good luck with…” She gestured between Soonyoung and you. “whatever you’ve got going on.” She reached forward and grabbed the discarded apple from its place on the island and padded upstairs to get her stuff from your room.

A gleeful smile crept its way onto his lips as he turned his head to look at you. “She’s leaving. You know what that means, it’ll just be me and you once she’s gone.”

“If you try anything, I will go get the fork. I don’t care if it kills you or not.”

He laughed, and the sound echoed through the kitchen. It was weird, he didn’t sound or look like an evil blood-sucking monster. He just looked and sounded…normal. And a little shiny.

“Later [Y/n]! Bye Soonyoung. Have fun!” Chaeryeong waved to you from the stairs. You replied with a goodbye of your own, and Soonyoung hummed, listening for the sound of the door closing shut before turning you around and pushing you against the island.

You gasped. “What are you doing?” The way you squirmed in his hold was amusing to Soonyoung, acting as if you could get away. You were so cute, thinking you could get away from him. This would be more enjoyable than he thought.

“I don’t understand why you’re so afraid of me. I can make you feel so good, baby.” You scoffed, the sound turning into a low moan when he started grinding his hard cock against your ass.

“I’m not afraid of you,” The shakiness in your voice poked a hole in your believability, but Soonyoung didn’t think too much of it. He lowered his head to the side of your neck, pressing a kiss to your pulse point before licking a stripe up the side of your neck. You shivered with a horrible realization; you liked it.

“Mmm, then maybe you like me. Is that why your heart is beating so fast?” You could feel him smiling against your skin.

A whine echoed through the kitchen. Your whine. “Wait, my parents…”

You gasped a second time when Soonyoung turned you so you were facing him, and you watched him roll his eyes with that annoying smile plastered on his face. “Oh, them? They’re coming home late. Your mom locked the keys in the car, so they’ll be a while.” Just when you were about to respond, he turned you around again, the feeling of his breath on your neck making you shiver. “So just focus on me, got it?”

His hands traveled over your body, stopping to squeeze your chest or your ass. You should’ve been embarrassed with how you reacted so eagerly to his touch, but he was actually making you feel good. Well, whatever. It’s not like you’d actually let him know—

“I can get rid of these, right?” He hooked his fingers underneath the waistband of your pajama pants, pulling them down along with your underwear the second you gave him a nod of confirmation. The fabric drops down your legs and pools at your feet and you kicked it aside. Soonyoung reached between your legs, collecting the wetness between them and holding it up to your face, fingers glistening with your arousal. “Look how wet you are for the freaky undead creature. You like this, don’t you?”

“N-no. I don’t like this or you.” Even though you said all that and shook your head, Soonyoung could tell you didn’t mean it. He reached between your legs again, this time to ease one of his fingers inside of you.

“The way you’re moaning for me says otherwise.” As he said that, he pushed another one of his fingers past your walls and eliciting another one of those not so subtle sounds from you that he loved. You didn’t even have to see him to know that he was pleased with himself getting you all worked up like this.

He was arrogant. He was full of himself. He was a smug bastard. He was all of that and more, and it was making you weak in the fucking knees.

Three of his fingers were inside of you now, stretching you so good that it made your head spin, and you bucked your hips against his hands like you’ve never been touched a day in your life.

God, you’d never live this down.

You bit your lip so that he didn’t get the satisfaction of hearing how you were falling apart over his fingers, or how good it felt when he curled them inside of you just right, or how he had your legs shaking every time he reached your sweet spot. As if he needed the vocal confirmation (he heard the noises you were making regardless), the way you were trembling was pretty much a dead giveaway.

“You know, you still owe me a little blood.”

“What?” You turned your head as much as you could to look at him over your shoulder. Soonyoung’s eyes were darker than they were before, his hunger evident through his gaze.

How could you owe him blood? What did that even mean?

“You owe me some blood,” he repeated. “Waving your finger around in my face and refusing me a taste. You have no idea how worked up you got me all over that flimsy little cut.”

Judging by how his dick was still poking you, you seriously doubted that.

You turned your head back around, not wanting him to see your face as you weighed your options. You didn’t really know what would happen if he did bite you. Would it hurt? Would it feel good?

Only one way to find out.

“Just…do it fast.” You tilted your head to give him better access to your neck. Soonyoung smiles wide—not like you could see it, but you were imagining that he was in this situation. He withdraws his fingers from their place inside you, much to your dismay, but he’s now holding them to your lips. He groans when you open your mouth and allows him to slip his fingers in and mumbling something that you can’t pick up over the sound of your thumping heartbeat.

“It shouldn’t hurt too much, but let me know if I need to stop.”

He pressed a quick kiss to the spot on your neck that he was sinking his fangs into no more than a second later, giving you no time to process his little act of intimacy. It stung for a moment, but what followed the initial sting of pain was the most intense and overwhelming sense of pleasure.

Soonyoung moans with absolutely no shame when your blood fills his mouth. He’s never tasted anyone as good as you, and he realizes that he could quickly become addicted to you. Your sounds, your blood, your pussy, each and every part of you inside and out was intoxicating.

You wrap your hands around his wrist and pull his fingers out of your mouth, wanting to have him hear your next words clearly. “Fuck me…please.”

He nearly chokes when you ask him that, forcing himself to pull away just so he can ask you to repeat yourself. He licks the remnants of your blood from his lips and your wound so that it’ll seal. “Anything for you, sweetheart.”

Clearly your expectations for him were still far too high, because instead of taking you to bed or at least the couch, he had you laid on the kitchen floor. Yeah, you’re definitely never living this down.

And yet despite all this, you can’t help but drool when you finally got to see Soonyoung’s cock beyond the confines of his sweatpants. He looks down at you, smirking, and despite your heightened arousal you still feel an urge to kick his cocky little ass.

“Can you get down here before I change my mind?”

He waves at you dismissively as if he hadn’t been the one all over you. “Need a condom. Got one on you?”

You roll your eyes. “I’m clean and on the pill. Come on, just fuck me already, oh my—”

Soonyoung happily lowered himself onto the floor, his lips on yours as he guided himself inside of you inch by inch. He tasted like your blood, obviously, but there was an also a faint taste of pink starburst too. Something he probably got from Leo, no doubt. The combination was weird, but somehow you figured it suited him.

“God. So f-fucking big, Soonie!”

Gone is the last bit of your composure with Soonyoung’s cock buried inside of you, blurting out any thought that came to your head against his lips.

“Shhh, not so loud, baby,” he whispers. “Wouldn’t want to have your bother wake up and find out what a slut you are, would you?” Yeah right, you think. Leo could sleep through anything, including you getting dicked down by his babysitter. But getting called a slut by him in that sickly sweet way had you clenching around him. “Fuck, warn me if you’re gonna do that.”

“Like I knew it would happen.” You hissed, making him laugh. He found this back and forth thing going on between the two of you fun, especially when he could get you so worked up and vice versa.

He waited until your body had relaxed to start moving, having to keep one of his hands over your mouth each time he thrusted into you because despite what he’d said earlier you just couldn’t seem to stop yourself. It wasn’t your fault that the kitchen was so echoey or that Soonyoung was giving it to you so fucking good.

“You’re such a cute little thing,” He laughed breathily into your neck. “I loved how much of a fight you put up for me baby. Now look at you. You’re mine.”

“All—ah—yours,” your words were muffled by his hands, but he understood you perfectly. The embarrassment you felt earlier was gone, completely replaced with thoughts of him and his cock splitting you open right here on the floor.

You felt him nod, “Mhm, you’re all mine, and I’m all yours. God, wish I could just fuck this sweet little pussy forever.”

A laugh managed slipped past your lips and he finally moved his hand away from your mouth. “You can say that?”

“God? Duh.” He sneered, becoming more and more aware of just how clueless you really were about vampire culture. “Can’t believe I’m having this conversation with you right now.”

You were just about to say something else when Soonyoung changed the angle of his hips, slamming into you even deeper than before. Your back arched, chest pressed to his, and a second later you let out a frustrated groan.

“You still fucking suck.”

“I’m glad you noticed.”

He opts for a faster pace after that, spurred on by the way you close your eyes and babble his name over and over again as if it’s the only word you can say. He’s so desperate to cum, to get you to cum, to have him be the only thing on your mind when you make a mess of yourself all over him. He whispers for you to keep your eyes closed, taking your wrist in his hand and bringing it to your stomach.

“Can you feel me? Right…” He moves your hand around a little before he finds the correct place, “here?” Blindly, you press down on the spot, and your eyes shoot open. He’s so, so deep, you can’t keep it together anymore.

“F-Fuck, feels so good,” your breath hitches at the end of the sentence. “Need more…”

“Yeah? Pretty baby needs more?” Soonyoung raises one of your legs over his shoulders and you swear you start seeing stars with the way he’s fucking you. “You’re so t-tight, sweetheart. Gonna cum?”

“Mmm, yeah, so c-close. Make me cum, Soonie, need it so bad.”

Soonyoung lifts his head so that he can kiss you, only breaking it to quickly mumble the words “me too” before his lips are back on yours and his finger is rubbing your clit until your body goes limp beneath his and he feels you squeezing him so tight it triggers his own orgasm, slowing the speed of his thrusts as he floods your pussy with his cum.

Your head feels fuzzy, and you barely register the feeling of him pulling out or lifting himself off of you while you lay there and catch your breath. “Soonyoung?”

There’s no immediate response, and it makes you confused as to why. You try to lift yourself off the floor but the soreness hasn’t quite subsided, so you’ve no choice but to stay put. “Yeah, just leave me on the floor. Not like I need your help or anything.”

“Well excuse me for not wanting you to be all sticky.” He huffs, wiping the insides of your thighs with a damp washcloth, then proceeding to wipe down the floor and the top of the island.

“I’m still on the floor, Soonyoung.”

Smiling, he helps you to stand and even manages to get you back into your underwear and pajama pants. He won’t stop looking at you like he has something to say. Maybe, for once, it’s something important.

“What?”

“You wanna go again? I’ve still got a ton of energy.” You rolled your eyes. Of course he did. “Oh come on, I know you liked it.”

“That’s it, I’m getting the fork.”

#kwon soonyoung #kwon hoshi #kwon soonyoung smut #soonyoung smut #hoshi smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #seventeen #svt #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #soonyoung x reader #hoshi x reader #svt soonyoung #seventeen soonyoung

[justhereforthemeta]

Crowley and the Fall: Looking where the furniture isn't

Furfur, 1941: "We were in the same legion. Just before the fall. Doing dubious battle on the plains of Heaven. Remember?"

Crowley: "I remember going into battle. I don't remember being there with you."

Um... does Crowley's professed memory track with what we know about his fall? Setting aside for a moment that he doesn't remember Furfur - I mean, who just casually *saunters* into battle, really? In theory, it sounds like Crowley must have, but that's not what his "I remember going into battle" sounds like. It's been said before, but something about the circumstances of Crowley's fall (what little we know of it, at least) doesn't smell right. What we know is:

First, Crowley asked questions.

These questions antagonized the Metatron.

At some point, having gotten no satisfactory answers, Crowley began "sauntering vaguely downward," hanging out with the wrong crowd out of...boredom? Boredom with making nebulae? Nahhh. "Food hadn't been that good lately" (ahem, angels don't eat) sounds a lot like a euphemism for not enjoying the things you used to enjoy anymore. Ennui, maybe depression. Comes of your work feeling pointless, when you think you've been contributing to something big and meaningful that turns out to just be fancy wallpaper, something that was always meant to get torn down eventually anyway (ugh, Crowley, you and I should go get a whiskey after work sometime).

Eventually, that "wrong crowd" becomes a legion marching into battle on the plains of heaven.

Lucifer's side loses, and Crowley finds himself "suddenly doing a million lightyear freestyle dive into a pool of boiling sulphur." Funny that whilst talking to no one but himself in the bar in season 1, Crowley characterizes his Fall as "sudden" with no mention of a precipitating rebellion or battle at all. Either way, it seems like there'd be a lot of distance for him to cover to get from "I'm feeling profoundly disappointed; what once sustained me has lost its flavor" to "I'm going to violently overthrow the system and put these other guys in charge." Especially for the one demon we know of who still appeals directly to God.

Anyway, that half-baked word casserole is my basis for theorizing that Crowley did ask questions, but he never violently rebelled. "Going into battle" is the sort of thing one does with some conviction, not in an attitude of casual, sauntering disaffection. And even if he was hanging out with the wrong crowd, Crowley has never been a mindless follower: he'd be just as likely to question and critique Lucifer/Satan as the Almighty Herself. If Crowley did fight in the war (big if, if you ask me), I suspect it was on the side of Heaven. Then at some point his memory was tampered with to make him forget which side he'd been on. The fog of war and all that...

One last thought on this topic: Saraquael. She claims to have worked with Crowley on the horsehead nebula; moments later, we see on heavenly instant replay that she was the angel tapping at their phone to look for Gabriel's memory so that it could be wiped. Was her question actually meant to test Crowley, to see how much he'd managed to remember?

Saraquael, only angel to recognize Metatron when he strolls into the bookshop - are you the one who performed the wipe of Crowley's memory on Metatron's behalf?

I haven't learned yet how to get good screenshots, but if you can, hit pause on Crowley's face just before the electrical sounds go off in heaven after Aziraphale has blown up his halo. He's turned around from the screens to look directly at Saraquael in this shot. His eyebrows are raised and we can see his narrowed eyes clearly through his sunglasses. He KNOWS.

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens spoilers #good omens meta #pushed not fell

[returnsandreturns]

have a little something

---

“Hey, what if you didn’t go out crimefighting tonight?” Foggy says, casually, after Matt makes his Dog That Heard A Noise face in the middle of a movie, one of the first nights that Foggy’s had to spend with him alone in what feels like decades but is more reasonably months.

“I know,” Matt says, sighing and getting up to get the suit, “but—I have to.”

“You don’t, actually,” Foggy says, lightly. “You could stay here and finish the movie or we could go get drinks or—go Christmas caroling. Ice skating. Over the river and through the woods. I don’t know, something seasonal. Or, I mean, I could take you to bed and fuck you so hard you can’t walk.”

Matt turns back slowly, halfway to his bedroom.

“What?” he asks, face surprisingly difficult to read.

Foggy could play it off as a joke, a light jest between friends, but everything’s so fucking weird now. For all that he considers himself the most sane and level-headed person in his immediate circle, he should still be allowed to be weird occasionally, too. Or a cool, sexy wildcard, at least.

“I could take you to bed,” he says, with significantly more intent, standing up and walking closer, “and fuck you so hard that you can’t walk.”

Matt’s mouth drops open a little and he’s blushing by the time he says, strangled, “Fuck, Foggy,” and takes the step between them to pull him into a rough kiss.

—

They were nineteen the first time they fucked, after a slightly delirious kiss in the hallway outside their final exam of their freshman year, a hug went awry. Matt tasted like black coffee and one cigarette that Foggy reluctantly gave him that he took one drag of before making a low dying noise and handing it back.

“How is that worth lung cancer?” he asks, pointedly.

“Shut up,” Foggy says, leaning halfway out a window. “You’ve probably gotten caffeine poisoning like fifteen times this week. Your eye is twitching right now.”

“Your eye is twitching,” Matt mutters.

The exam takes Foggy two hours and he waits for Matt’s extended testing time to be over, slumping down against a wall to sit on the floor. He looks up when Matt comes out looking pale and grim.

Foggy stands up.

“Bring it in,” he says, opening his arms, and Matt sighs and basically falls into him for an exhausted clingy hug.

“We did it,” Matt says, pulling back, face close in a way that means Matt’s going to kiss him. Not that Matt’s ever kissed him before but Matt definitely knows how close their faces are in relation to one another and has done nothing to rectify it and that means all these little bits of the safety lock Foggy has in his head holding him back from falling for Matt Murdock almost click into place.

“We did it,” he echoes.

Matt kisses him.

Click.

—

“What are we doing?” Matt asks, when they’re half naked and crammed uncomfortably into a twin bed.

“Dunno,” Foggy says, unzipping Matt's fly. “Who cares. Feels good.”

“. . .feels good,” Matt acquieses, moaning when Foggy get a hand around his dick, adding desperately. “Feels really good.”

The decision that Foggy will fuck Matt comes during an approximately two minute brainstorming session where they agreed on everything offered and then Foggy says, “Okay, so, anal,” and Matt says, “. . .that, please,” and then suddenly Matt’s ass was in the air and Foggy’s dick was inside him and they’re fully sober except for desperation and caffeine and it’s the weirdest fucking moment of Foggy’s life.

“Have you done this before?” Foggy asks.

“Just fingers,” Matt says, groaning when Foggy thrusts in harder. “Jesus. This is. . .more.”

“Does it hurt?” Foggy asks, concerned.

“Don't stop,” Matt says, urgently.

“Okay, eager,” Foggy says, happily, patting his hip.

Matt huffs out a shaky laugh, says, “It kind of hurts but not as much as it—oh, fuck, Foggy, right there, right fucking there, please, please, please!”

It's the begging that sends Foggy over the edge earlier than he'd like but he still beats Matt, who comes just from his erection rubbing up against the sheets when Foggy fucked him harder and harder until Matt's words get swapped for incoherent moans.

Foggy gets rid of the condom then lingers awkwardly next to Matt's bed, not sure what the next step is here.

Matt's curled up on his side and he smiles sleepily, saying, “I think, all things considered, we could probably cuddle.”

“All dicks considered,” Foggy says, climbing back into bed to pull Matt into his arms.

“All asses,” Matt says, voice muffled in Foggy's chest.

“Well, really just yours,” Foggy says, kissing the top of Matt's head when he snorts softly.

After a few minutes of quiet dozing, Matt asks, almost shyly, “Do you maybe want to do that again sometime? Just for fun?”

“Sure,” Foggy says, because that’s the only option he can think of. “I’d be into that.”

They meet up every few days during that summer to hang out and hook up and then Elektra happens and then Marci happens and then it seems like the moment has passed. They’re adults and they have the firm and Matt’s a fucking vigilante superhero and those few months might have been Foggy falling in love but they were also just something that happened.

They were fun.

--

“Wait, is this all it took?” Foggy asks, when he’s got Matt on his back in bed, Matt’s legs wrapped around him. “If I had just noticed when you got that vigilante spark in your eye, do you think I could have just—fucked it out of you?”

Matt’s laugh is a little crazy as Foggy lifts him up to thrust in deeper, his head falling back on the sheets as it turns into a breathy moan.

“I want to say no,” he says, “but you’re really good at it.”

“All you had to do was ask, buddy,” Foggy says, lightly. “Or beg—I do really like it when you beg, actually.”

“Foggy, just fuck me,” Matt says, laughing when Foggy stops abruptly, buried inside of him. “Please, okay? Fuck me, please.”

Foggy pulls out and thrusts back in as hard as he can, pushing Matt up the bed, and Matt says, “Foggy,” in a way that makes Foggy ache. He leans down to kiss Matt, messy, sitting up again to see Matt’s face looking soft and sweet. He’s always worn vulnerable difficultly, but so freaking well.

God, he wants to keep this. He wants to timestamp this as the moment things finally started to go right again. He wants Matt.

Afterward, Matt’s sprawled out on his back and Foggy’s idyly hovering over him and kissing his neck when Matt says, so quietly, “I think about what it would have been like if we got together back in college, sometimes. Like-actually got together.”

“Yeah?” Foggy asks, sitting up.

Matt nods and smiles faintly when he asks, “. . .do you wanna do it right this time? Please?”

Foggy smiles down at him.

Click.

#daredevil #mattfoggy #the italics didnt take so assume enphasis where it should be

[love-toxin]

jump - cha hyun-su

a/n: sweet home is giving me serotonin for midterm season u know i had to do it <3

(cws: gn pronouns, minor sweet home s1 spoilers, suicidal reader + suicide attempts, puking, failed OD, trauma bonding, mild lewd mentions, omg they were neighbors, dark meet cute)

wc: 3.2k

August 1 - 2020

1410 - Cha Hyun-su.

Otherwise known as your unofficial, non blood-related, possibly-separated-at-birth-twin. Why? Because for a year and a half, you've been living as the official Green Home recluse. Now a second recluse has moved in right down the hall.

“Maybe we dedicate the fourteenth floor to up-and-coming college dropouts now.” You've heard that spoken under the breath of neighbours in the lobby, heard variations of it giggled between nosy ladies that have gotten too old to call it gossip. If they're resorting to gossip about two residents who have turned hikikomori, they're wasting their breath. Not much goes on in your apartment that anybody would want to gossip about.

As for Hyun-su? You're not sure. Sometimes you hear the tinny sounds of gunfire through his metal door. Other than that, nothing. So he games and eats ramyeon, and that's it? If it is, it's a little surprising. He doesn't look the type at first glance. In fact, he looks like he'd fit in with the popular guys you went to highschool with. The bulk box of instant noodles he ordered lies askew in the hallway, which you suppress the urge to kick as you walk by.

Your stomach rumbles. Wish I had the money to order ramen in bulk. Your life's savings jingles pathetically in your pocket: a few won scattered amongst pocket lint. The flickering of the lights overhead should be enough of a cue that you've fallen far in life. This apartment complex is a shithole, and aside from the odd cigarette or two you can snag from the convenience store there's really not much you get joy out of at this point. Food, sex, music, it's all the same. At least touching yourself is free. Not for much longer if I don't come up with rent next week. You absentmindedly kick a crumpled ball of paper down the hall. Unlucky as ever, your sandal goes flying with it, and tumbles right through the door and down the steps before you hear it hit the landing.

“Son a bitch,” You sigh under your breath, and with a moment of hesitation you hop along on one leg. No way are you gonna touch that filthy floor with your bare foot. Each step you take with help from the railing, and by the wall at the end of the landing lies your abandoned shoe–lying on its side like a piece of trash someone couldn't be bothered to throw away. You hop forward and wiggle your foot back into it, toes first. “Home sweet home.” You sigh sarcastically. Each step downstairs after that feels just as dooming as the last.

August 8 - 2020

I think I might have to die soon.

The blue-white glow of your phone screen is all the light you've seen for days. You missed the rent payment. Your application for an extended due date was denied. You're getting kicked out at the end of the month.

Am I in hell already?

A frustrated huff escapes you. Your phone clatters as it hits the wall, but if it's broken or not, you don't care enough to get up and check. What's the point in writing out your feelings if you aren't gonna survive long enough to reflect on them?

You pull the covers higher over your head. I'm doomed. The world is over. You stick your hand out from beneath the warm covers to reach the dial of your CD player, and turn it. Click. No power. They cut off your electricity already.

You fall asleep to the sounds of silence and your own breathing under the smothering covers.

August…something.

You kneel hunched over your toilet, expunging every ounce of fluid and bile from the hellish depths of your stomach. You've been puking for over an hour but there's still stuff coming out. With a loose, loud grunt you bury your knuckles into your stomach in a swift thud, forcing out one last expulsion of acid and chunks of food you probably ate ten years ago in the process. With a heave of laboured breath you sit back and slump against the cold tile wall of your bathroom.

Bad idea. If you work up the courage to try this again, you're sure as shit never using pills for it after this. You swear you could feel each one as they came back up for vengeance, the burn in your throat harkening to the amount of dry-swallowing and gagging it took to get them in there. You'd rather just jump out the fucking window at this point. Sorry to whoever has to clean up the mess.

A pass over your face only smudges the tears drooling down it. This is seriously pathetic. Your sniffles echo off the grimy tile like the chimes of a bell, they sound far-off but they hurt your ears with the vibration. Everything hurts. Your chapped lips burn and your stomach aches with every clench around empty air.

Can I just die now? Am I allowed to die? Your knees hit your chest and you sob your questions out to nobody. Nobody's here and nobody cares. If you weren't a coward, you would've jumped already. You would've jumped two weeks ago when you knew you didn't have the money. You would've-

Ching ching. The doorbell. Ching ching. Right now? Seriously?

Ching ching. Ching ching. Ching ching.

“I'm coming,” You rub your tears dry with an aggressive touch and get one last sniffle out. A single splash of cold water on your face in the sink is all you have a chance to do. Fucking landlord, probably. Probably looking for one last chance to hassle you about the money. Nobody wants to move here, it's easier to keep a tenant than find a new one–or maybe he wants to kick you out early. If that's the case, it'd be the icing on the cake for this absolutely wretched excuse for a life you've ruined.

Ching ching. Ching ching. Without bothering to check the doorbell monitor on your way by, you head for the door and reach out to brush the handle. It's only by sheer coincidence that you pause, and in a moment of clarity, bow your head to peek through the peephole before you turn the handle.

“What the shit-” The rug trips you up as your steps hustle backward, a yelp escaping you as your back hits the floor and you scramble up to sit and stare back at the door in horror. Whatever that was, it…it wasn't…

You swallow dryly. Your hands feel numb. You flick your gaze from the door to the handle and back again, watching with intent fear as whatever it is that's outside keeps ringing the doorbell until it stops. That's the moment the world itself goes quiet.

“I…hear you…”

Your heart itself ceases its erratic beat in that moment. The grin curling up at the creature's dark lips is palpable in its voice. That head of exposed, honeycomb-like brains that you spied through the peephole comes alive in the squishy, spongy sounds that emanate from the other side of your front door.

Bang.

A bulb-like protrusion explodes out from the metal, leaving behind a deep indent that will forever mark the spot where the monster tried to get in. Bang. Bang. Two more in succession show up in the squealing steel of your door. It's trying to get in. It's not going to stop until it does.

“I hear you!!” It shrieks in tandem with your terrified screams. “I hear you! I hear you!!” The cackling of its cracked voice burns holes through your palms and into your eardrums, your hands not nearly enough to block out the horrendous screeching of metal on metal. In a bid of panic, you scramble to your feet and away from the bending frame of your door. Your toenails scrabble against the carpet and nearly catch on the loose threads as you close the distance to the window. You left it open to let the stuffy air out, but now it's an escape hatch. A way out. Your palms grip cool metal as you raise yourself up to the sill and crouch on it on the soles of your feet, perched like a bird pre-flight as you look out into the mid-morning sky and back to your battered front door.

This is it. This is the last chance you'll ever have to look out into the world you're leaving behind. The sky is clear today, oranges and light pinks streaking across the scattered clouds and dissipating more as the sun creeps into the air. The breeze tastes cool and crisp on your tongue, a stark contrast to the warmth that the glow casts over your trembling body. God, I don't wanna jump after all. I just want to look at this view for just a little longer.

Fresh tears chill themselves against your skin in the breeze, but your last, wishful peace is broken by a sudden clang. Like something brittle thudding against a solid surface. The sound draws your head sideways in an instant. The wind whips your hair away to frame your distraction in perfect view, hanging halfway out of his window two doors down.

He stares at you with brown eyes, once blank, now deep with urgency and fear. Hyun-su has a broken mop in hand that he's since stopped smacking against the wall once he's got your attention. He swallows and you watch his adam's apple bob in his throat.

Sorry, I've got to die right now. Those words that you feel brimming at your lips fall silent as Hyun-su motions to you. But you just stare with glossy eyes and a pained smile, because what can he do? There's a monster breaking down your front door, and the last hinge is barely holding on. You want to mouth the words “I'm sorry”, but he suddenly disappears.

It's only a moment before you hear the banging. Like a door swinging open and shut on its squeaky hinges, the shunk shunk shunk shunk resonates through the whole complex and just about vibrates you off the sill entirely. But you cling on this time because the thuds and squealing at your door are growing softer. Soon, the noises stop altogether as you hear a screech and the heavy pattering of the creature's footsteps leading away. In just as much time as it took to decide to throw yourself off the fourteenth floor, you've been left in peace again.

It takes about a half hour before you're ready to move from your perch, to step down on the freezing floor and brace your shaking legs by leaning against the wall. You keep checking all day to see if Hyun-su reappears. You don't see a thing, save for the sunset that marks the dusk of a day you didn't think you'd ever survive.

August ??? - 2020

If Hyun-su comes back, I'll sleep with him. On my life. Or I'll kill him. I haven't decided, honestly.

Your phone's battery is almost dead, and the screw that holds the hinge is so loose it's practically flopping all over the place. It's gone from a flip phone to a flop phone, realistically. Without the internet or cell service, all it's good for is a brick to hold your thoughts inside. Maybe it'll be all that's left of you once you're gone.

Is Hyun-su dead? That thought has been cycling round your head like it's circling a drain for about a day. The more you think about it, the more sure you are that he must've led the monster away to try and draw it from your door. The brain monster hasn't come back since, but neither has Hyun-su. You've tried everything from calling him to aiming a mirror out your window to get a glimpse into his apartment, but nothing. And if you knock on his door and he's not there, what will you do?

You've laid in bed awake all night, and with your stomach growling painfully you sit with your back against the mangled front door and wait. Your eyes shut at the tenth hour of the morning. Come back, Hyun-su. Please come back. Why'd you save me just to leave me alone again? You better not have died for me. The thoughts give you distraction for a while, as long as a while could feasibly last in these circumstances…

Shu-unk.

What the fucking hell was that?

Shunk. Shunk. Shunk.

You blink awake and stagger up to your feet in a rushed scramble. In the distance, just barely audible, is a soft voice echoing off the walls of the empty corridor.

“1412?” You're tempted to press your ear to the door to hear it closer, but the myriad of dents and fist-sized creases left protruding from it don't exactly leave a lot of space for you to listen. “1412?” The sound that had startled you awake, you now realize, is the sound of doors quietly being opened and closed. You're tempted to disbelieve, but the low coolness of that voice desperately makes you want to believe it's Hyun-su. And as terrified as you are of guessing wrong and paying your life's price for it, your fingers shakily clasp the door handle and it turns with a click. The squeals of metal make way for harsh scraping as the ill-fitting door fights the pressure of your body weight as you put everything you have into forcing it open.

It passes the threshold and swings open. You stagger into the corridor and catch yourself on the door frame, your fingers scraping dented steel from the pounding it took at the hands of that monster.

It is. It's him. That soft jawline and those big, brown eyes, the mane of fluffy hair and his unkempt clothes splattered with blood. He stands there lean and awkward in the hallway, lanky and ruffled and looking like he's been through a good bit of hell. His mop handle's got an upgrade but you don't care, really. You just feel a well of happiness surge up inside you that you figured had completely disappeared by now.

Hyun-su hurries up to you. When he gets close, he falters, however. His expression dims as he suddenly seems unsure of himself, and fidgets with the newly-crafted spear that suddenly seems too heavy in his hands.

“Are you okay?” He pants. “The monster-”

“You led it away.”

“Yeah.” He nods. “But you're okay, right?”

“Mh.” Your ears burn a little. This is my saviour, huh? So soft-spoken and meek? “Didn't get me at all. Thank you.”

He nods back, his scruffy locks forming a curtail around his neck as he does so. An awkward silence blankets the empty space. It's broken, however, by a deep gurgling in the pit of your stomach.

“Are you hungry?”

You lay a hand over your stomach as if your touch is going to make it stop rumbling. It's pretty humbling, to say the least–you hadn't realized how weak you'd become on two days without food. Hyun-su doesn't wait for an answer; he reaches into his pocket and pulls out something crinkly and wrapped in foil. It's still warm when he places it in your palm, yet his fingertips carry a chill as they graze your skin in the process.

“You should eat. We need to get going.”

“Where?” Hyun-su points down the corridor, and despite his urging you slip the candy bar into your pocket while you peek out where he's indicating. The door is busted-up and boasts a reinforced exterior from the many bumps and scrapes of a wheelchair coming in and out. You know it well. “1408? Where Mr. Han lives?”

He nods. “There's kids there, and some other people. I, um…I was going to come earlier, but they-”

“I get it.” For the first time in a long time, you crack a smile. “Had to go play hero again, huh?” If he was willing to drive away a monster from a stranger's door by using himself as bait, you can only imagine what he must have gone through to save some poor kids in peril.

“N-No, I-”

“You're a good guy.” You pat him on the chest. “I don't know why a good guy like you came to live in a place like Green Home, but I'm glad you're here.” Hyun-su looks down on you with a raised brow, but his surprise melts slowly into gratitude as he adjusts to your playful jabs. There's not many other ways for you to cope in an absolutely bizarre situation as this.

“...I'm glad, too.”

“Yeah?”

Hyun-su tilts his head down. He's a little hesitant on meeting your eyes, even though you owe him so much. “I'm…glad you didn't jump.”

“Me too.” The sentiment slips out of you so easily. When did that happen? Wanting to live? “I'd be a pretty shitty damsel if I threw away my life after you saved it.”

In the wake of another, now less-awkward silence, you stroll ahead of him towards Mr. Han's apartment. You only glance over your shoulder to make sure he's following, and to quietly reassure yourself that he hasn't disappeared again. When you do, that's when he hustles along to catch up, the smallest of smiles peaking his lips.

“If..”

You turn to look at him beside you. You can't help but pay him your full attention when he speaks–he does it so little, and he's so quiet, you fear you might miss what he says.

“If you feel like you want to jump again..” He extends his hand out to you. Despite the callouses on his long, lithe fingers, his palm looks soft and even…inviting, in some strangely enticing way. “..You can hold my hand. I'll keep you from falling.”

“Oh.” Your feet halt in their tracks. The air feels a bit heavier than it did before–but only in the space that separates you from Hyun-su. His hand lingers there, and beneath the cuff of his sweater's sleeve you spot for the first time those scars. Cuts, slashes, deep and intentional down the length of his tanned skin. Intersecting lines that point towards a past of hurt and harm.

So you and I are the same. Have you now, finally, come to that thought that Hyun-su had when he saw you ready to jump out your window?

“...Yeah.”

You place your palm delicately over his. Your fingers slide together like ivy on a window. They clasp into each other, squeezing like the grip of a latch on a closed door. And you feel at peace for real this time, because from this moment on you won't ever get near a ledge again–not to take a step off, at least. But maybe to see another sunset if you manage to survive that long. A smile perks at your mouth at the thought. God, I hope so.

“Let's hang in there together. Promise.” You squeeze his hand, and he squeezes yours back. The two of you make your way towards the apartment. And when this door opens, it'll close behind you for good.

#sweet home #cha hyun su #cha hyun su x reader #hyun su x reader #gn reader #ellie writes #3k

[avocado-writing]

Kinktober 4

4. Overstimulation, Oviposition/Egglaying, Human Urinal

notes: this was inspired by this incredible fic from @naromoreau, thank you so much for putting naga!crowley into my mind! also this is super monster-fucky. i do not apologise.

afab!reader

biologically this is not at all how snakes work but uhhhhhhh Crowley is a demon so I’m allowed creative license 🤷‍♂️

Crowley’s been irritable. 

Snapping, brooding, being generally difficult to be around. You can tell Aziraphale doesn’t love it either, but he’s at least had the commodity of knowing Crowley for longer. In fifty years of happy romance between the three of you this is the first time that your demon has ever gotten on your nerves, and you won’t stand for it. 

“Look,” you say through gritted teeth after he’s barked at you for some unrealised slight, “you’re in a mood. But it isn’t my fault, and it isn’t Aziraphale’s, so stop taking it out on us.”

Aziraphale freezes and looks between the two of you. Crowley raises himself up to his full height… and then deflates.

“Sorry,” he mutters, running a hand over his face. “You’re right, it isn’t your fault. I’m just…”

He trails off, and you can tell he’s trying to work out if he should admit something. You close the gap and take his hand.

“Crowley, love. If there's something the matter you need to tell me. Tell us. We can help!”

Is he blushing? It’s hard to tell, as he turns his face away.

“Look, I’m just a bit… worked up.”

“Oh! …Oh. Well, there’s no reason we can’t assist with that?”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that,” Crowley sighs. You look over to Aziraphale. He clearly has more of an idea of what’s going on, but knows it’s Crowley’s truth to tell. “It’s demon breeding season.”

Your cheeks get hot all of a sudden.

“Oh, I see. I didn’t even realise they had one of those.”

“Well, of course. Otherwise where would new demons come from?” he asks, baffled at your confusion. You suppose you don’t have an answer for that.

“So what do you need to do?”

“Well, usually I’d just slither downstairs and find someone receptive and we’d –”

“No!” you say, suddenly, with such force it makes both of your partners jump. In the future you’ll experiment more with other bodies, engage in orgies so you can watch Aziraphale and Crowley be fucked (and become smug in the way it’s never quite as good as when you do it) but for now the idea of your demon being in bed with anyone but the people in this room shreds your heart. “I mean, look. You don’t need to do that. I’ll help.”

“We’ll help,” Aziraphale says softly. You know this must be quite a gap for him to bridge, having known Crowley when he’s been going through these heats before, but now knowing him as a lover. Crowley looks between the two of you, strangely touched.

“Are you certain? I don’t look… I’m a bit more demonic when I need to mate.”

The idea sends a chill down your spine to straight between your legs.

“That’s fine,” you say, a little too quickly. Despite it all, Crowley grins.

“Alright. Get to the bedroom. I’ll be right with you.”

🐍

You strip down, quickly, excitedly. Secretly you’ve wondered about what Crowley looks like when he’s a proper demon for a while. Hellfire caressing your skin? Horns to grab onto? Your mind is going a mile a minute.

You turn to Aziraphale. He’s removed his cravat and overcoat, and is currently turning up his sleeves to the elbow. You look at him, confused.

“Are you not going to…?” you gesture to your bare body. Aziraphale smiles.

“I think this might be something you want to experience by yourself first, love.”

You open your mouth to ask him what that means, but you’re distracted by the sound of a door creaking.

Crowley slithers in.

No, literally.

Whatever you were expecting, it wasn’t this. The top half of him is the Crowley you know. Bronzed skin, copper hair down his back, yellow eyes with blown-wide snake pupils. 

But that isn’t the only part of him that’s serpentine.

From his hips onwards, he is entirely tail. Black scales rippling as he moves towards you, osteoderms moving with his breath. He looks both entirely like and unlike himself, a strange creation of familiar and not. 

He is beautiful.

“Oh,” is all you can manage from where the rest of your body has frozen. You know it was the wrong move, because Crowley looks deflated.

“You don’t like it,” he says with a sigh, and you immediately feel terrible. What he means is ‘you don’t like me.’ You can hear the sadness tinging his voice. So you step forward, hand out, careful.

“No, love, it’s not that at all. Just give me a moment to… adjust.”

You move forward, unsure how to touch him. Aziraphale’s voice whispers from behind you:

“Go on, nightingale. He won’t hurt you.” And then, after a beat, when the angel realises what you’re really worried about, “you won’t hurt him.”

You run your palm along the soft heat of his scales and Crowley sighs, both in relief and in excitement. You take your time, exploring the pattern of him, the curve of his tail. You don’t realise but soon he’s begun to curl around you, wrapping you up gorgeously tight in his coils. Soon your legs are totally engulfed by him. 

“Isss thisss alright, nightingale?” he asks, voice low. You try to move and find that you can’t, really, but at the same time you’re fine with it - you know the one holding you is someone you trust with your life.

“Very,” you laugh. You feel someone embrace you from behind and realise Aziraphale has crossed over to you, his chest against your back, his face buried in the crook of your neck. You give yourself over to the strange new feeling of being held like this.

“So now what?” you ask, looking at Crowley’s tail, trying to work out how he mates. It doesn’t take you long to find it: a slit towards where his groin would be, beginning to leak slick down his scales. You run your fingers over it and Crowley gasps, shuddering. “Do you need me to touch you here?”

Crowley shakes his head, breathless with delighted chuckles.

“No. Well, I want you to, but that doesssn’t have to be part of it.”

You decide that you want to as well. You press into him there, his cloaca, and giggle when he leans forward to rest his forehead on your free shoulder.

“Fuck…” he groans. 

“If you’re offering,” you say, cheekily. Both your partners huff a laugh, and as you explore deeper into him, you feel something beginning to emerge. You remove your hand to make way, expecting some sort of appendage… and to be fair, it is, but not one you’ve ever seen before.

“What’s that?” you ask, breathless and both bewildered and gleeful.

“That’sss… what I use to lay my eggs.”

A beat passes.

“Hmm.”

“Sssstill game?”

“Crowley, am I going to get pregnant from this?” you ask with very real concern. A hand comes up to caress your face, a thumb swipes across the plush of your lips.

“No, love. I’d need to fertilissse them too, and I won’t do that. I jusssst need sssomewhere to, erm. Push them.”

Well, you’ve come this far. Over the last fifty years the three of you have introduced many things into the bedroom: lace, leather, toys. But as your demonic lover says he wants to lay eggs inside you while your angelic one helps you brace for it, it’s nice to know that there’s still some surprises you can give each other.

You nod, and lay back. Crowley’s eyes go wide.

“You’re sssure?”

“Yes, love. Of course.”

What leaves his cloaca is a tube, for want of a better term. It’s just over a foot long and dripping with slickness. It seems to give him pleasure as it releases, you know what he looks like when he’s about to orgasm, and when it twists its way towards you all you can do is relax into his tail, into Aziraphale’s arms.

The angel threads his fingers through yours and holds you tightly. 

“You’ll be fine, darling.”

“You don’t seem very surprised about any of this,” you say, breathlessly. A thought occurs to you. “Hang on, have you done this before?”

Aziraphale goes bright pink.

“Erm…”

“Once,” Crowley hisses, grinning - have his teeth gotten sharper? No, he’s just grown fangs - “yearsssss ago. Before either of ussss met you.”

“I was a friend helping another friend,” Aziraphale says quickly, a line he’s clearly been using to justify his lust for years. You can’t help but laugh at your utterly daft and obtuse lovers, and that’s good – it loosens you up and allows Crowley to slip inside your cunt.

You’re already quite wet from the new, explorative play that’s come so far, but the tube is slick and searching. It surges up inside you, far inside you, further than either of their cocks have ever hit, but it doesn’t hurt. Something about what it’s secreting is relaxing your inner muscles and allowing it access into your core. You gasp as you feel Crowley root himself there, and the demon moans.

“Fuck. You’re…”

You’re too overstimulated to reply, so just nod. Yes. He is, too. Across the width of your shoulders you see Aziraphale kiss Crowley, soft and long.

“You are so lovely like this, Crowley.”

“Gorgeous,” you manage, honestly, and Crowley looks like the praise might make him burst. Settling back into the moment he locks his eyes on yours, serious, sincere.

“”I’m going to ssstart now. It might feel a bit sssstrange, but I promisssse it will be good.”

“It is,” Aziraphale agrees, shyly. You smile, and nod. You trust them.

Crowley closes his eyes and you see him squeeze. Something travels through his tube, passing through him and up inside you. The strange spherical nature of the object has you gasping, firstly in surprise and then in pleasure. The press of it is strange and illicit and when it pops inside of you, you try to roil; you can’t though. Crowley has you too tightly.

“That’sss the firsssst one.”

“Oh my god,” you moan.

“Are you alright?”

“Keep going,” you command, your voice no-nonsense. And Crowley does. Another egg passes from inside him to inside you, pressing through your cervix with no issue to deposit safely. After four of them you’re beginning to feel a bit full. By seven, you can feel the eggs jostling around inside of you, an unusual and filthy intimate slide. Your silky insides are making them the perfect home.

“How… how many are there?” you breathe. Crowley’s face is drenched with sweat, his eyes rolling back in his head. From his cloaca a fresh stream of cum drips onto the tops of your thighs.

“Usually ten or twelve.”

“Twelve?!” you gasp, not sure how you’ll fit those, but willing to try. On cue, another egg presses your vulva apart and nestles in deep. 

You’re showing them now, stomach starting to stretch. It doesn’t hurt though. It feels wonderful. You’ve never been so full before, your body warm and deliciously thrumming. You look over your shoulder to where Aziraphale is holding you, in some strange approximation of a husband helping a wife give birth. His eyes are firmly fixed on your abdomen, lips slightly apart, cheeks bright red.

“Aziraphale?”

“Sorry, darling. You just look…” he trails off, instead choosing to rest his hand on your stomach. You moan as he bumps the eggs inside you, and for a moment you’re swept up in it, and think it wouldn’t be so bad to have Crowley make them viable, maybe you’d quite like carrying his clutch, so long as the two of them looked after you like this.

The last two eggs come at once, one right after the other, filling you to the brim. You can feel them taking up the tunnel to your core, hardly fitting in properly. You whine and try to find a way to feel comfortable, but you’re so full, so needy, and they’re pushing against that sweet spot inside you, and –

You come unexpectedly, an orgasm wracking your body wildly. It takes over your every sense with a crashing wave, your cunt tightening and spasming as Crowley finally withdraws. You’ve never been so stuffed in your life and it’s wonderful.

“How long… How long do they stay?” you manage when your heart is finally at a normal pace again.

“A couple of hoursss, until they realissse they’re not going to grow. Then they’ll disssssolve.”

“Dissolve?!”

“It won’t hurt, my love,” Aziraphale assures you, hand still protectively on your bump. “In fact it’s somewhat of an aphrodisiac.”

You moan and collapse into them. You’re not sure how you’re going to survive this.

@bootlmoth @elleofdragons  @angelic-anarchy27 @yeethaw13 @candlewitch-cryptic @kwyn-q @rat-that-writes @buryustogether @letthenightingalessingagain @ltlthetrifecta @angiestopit @purplefrog1sblog @wereallbrokenangels @angelspathway @clarina04 @belilwen @chaospossum @eightsdoctor @oo-delallymrcrow @silcosmoke @climbingivy97 @live-logs-and-proper @project-sad @just-a-beatlemaniac69 @imagination-phantom @anonymously35 @corgis04 @peytonpenguin37 @catlynharper @unabashedgentlemenpirate @wolfe-houler @darktealrat @mxxny-lupin @willbedecided @detectiveapparatiagreen @shadowluna25 @kaylinelizabeth4004 @xquinn-bartonx @blue-bell22 @foolishprincipalitee @fandomawesomeness @eweweweewewe @latersgaters-steven @llamaproblem @night-affiliate @randompost18 @hunterispunk @jessica-laufeysdottir @uxcaran @bunnymallowo @jae-michael

#aziraphale x reader x crowley #crowley x reader x aziraphale #Fic: the light the dark and the spaces inbetween #avo's kt 23

[talesfrommedinastation]

My Redneck Neighbor Doug has watched The Bad Batch Season 3 opener:

LEEEEET'S GET READY TO RUMBLE!

This is more pithy than normal: Doug's been busy with work, as have I. But I'm determined to hear his thoughts on The Daddy Warcrimes 'n Company so here we go!

These were all via text messages, btw.

CW: Doug Doug's as you know Doug will do. Away!

---------------------------------------------------

Episode 1: 'Little Orphan Blondie's Shit Internship at The Museum of Science and Industry'

Poor Little Orphan Blondie, stuck in The Museum of Science and Industry in a shit summer job because they got bills to pay. Except they got rid of the dinosaurs and walk in heart and filled it with gross shit.

Hey look, they still got the coal mine exhibit! Man I miss Chicago.

(Doug, that museum has never had dinosaurs. “What, since when?”)

MUTANT JIMMERS EVERYWHERE! Aw, Little Orphan Blondie gave one her chicken nuggets! And it’s shy, aw, I hope it’s okay.

Poor Mutant Jimmers…she named her?! Swear to Christ Almighty if that dog gets Old Yeller’d I’ll just lose it. 

That freaky alien thing that ran the mall on the ocean looks sad, I bet she wishes she fell into the water and got eaten by a shark or something. I wish you did too, lady. 

The Sons of Robocop really are everywhere, they must be a cult or something. They look cool, I’d join, why not. Think they get 401ks?

Oh man, Daddy Warcrimes is down bad. Poor Daddy Warcrimes. Man, all my clone boys are stooped and sad…this ain’t good. 

At least Little Orphan Blondie can craft! Man, she should start selling those at the Museum of Science and Industry’s gift shop. Maybe Tarkin can bring one back for the grandchildren he’s not allowed to talk to since the restraining order was put in.

Oh, there’s Stepsister Beth, she seems on edge. Must’ve gotten divorced recently, don’t blame her ex, I bet she screamed at him for leaving cabinets open who knows. How do her eyeballs not hurt after wearing those dumb glasses all day?

Episode 2: 'Night Elves and Neverland Ranch'

The night elves from Warcraft invaded Star Wars and got horns or something and now they have a castle that looks like a boss level in Diablo IV or V or how many Diablo games they got now.

Now they yelling at people and throwing them in the basement today. Makes sense, gotta fight the orcs and stuff. Think they fight the orcs in the basement?

The Night Elf Horned Queen hired Daddy Rambo and Julio to get people, I guess they’re turning into Boba Fett or something. They got her son's horn back, guess that's good. Oh they need new paint jobs on their armor.

Do they end up in the basement in the Diablo Boss Level? No? And off they go! 

Daddy Rambo and Julio are in their homeland of FLORIDA! Hell yeah, SPACE FLORIDA! And they’re bringing the talking trashcan with them using straps! Go Julio go!  Yeah, boa vines, this is TOTALLY the Everglades! 

Escaped clone boys! Oh man! Shit, is Neverland Ranch in the jungle? Oh man–oh, they know what they’re doing. Good kids. Real good kids. Oh what happened to the rest of them? Oh Meat Muffin, this ain't good :(.

You know what? Them clone boys are smart, take it back, this ain’t Space Florida, this is Space Louisiana! Them baby boys gone get feral and run off into the bayou and live in the caves and now you know my origin story, Meat Muffin! 

If this was Florida they'd just end up working the late shift at Zaxby's and smoking rocks in the parking lot. We know better, we French and all.

I bet they’ve been living on nutria and half-empty chicken boxes from behind the gas stations. Resourceful scrappy kids and I can tell its making Daddy Rambo proud.

Oh holy SHIT, there go them vines! It's like the kudzu all over again, maybe this is LaFourche Parish?

See, them boys are definitely white trash, Mandalorian rednecks. Look at em, living in the woods and hijacking a plane, but they good kids, saving their brothers. Even saved the robot too. 

Man, all the feels, them poor little boys. What will they do now?  Oh, they're going to Space Daytona! Good, wait, I saw the trailer, doesn't the Empire invade it? THIS AIN'T GOOD MEAT MUFFIN!!!

Wait...where's Toaster Strudel and Rex?

Episode 3: 'Blondie Got a Gun'

Well here's the Emperor. He wants to be immortal. Gotta make that other movie make sense or something.

Where's Darth Vader? Is he running the government when the Emperor is running around giggling?

Don’t you DARE kill Mutant Jimmers, you damn droid. I hate that ugly assed stupid thing. It looks like its scarecrow daddy fucked a microwave and then left it enough money to go to Planned Parenthood but instead spent it on crack and there ya go.  

Oh shut your goddamned yap, Jimmy the Scientist. I bet he gloves that hand up because he keeps shoving it up his own ass and that's why he walks funny all the damn time.

The Emperor also has a Diablo IV or VIII boss level all to himself too at the Museum of Science and Industry. How many Diablo games are there, Meat Muffin?

YEAH, LITTLE ORPHAN BLONDIE! GIT ER DONE!!! They're out! Oh wow! There she goes with Daddy Warcrimes! Kill em all and let GOD SORT THEM OUT! That's my GIRL!!!!

Blondie’s got a gun 

Blondie’s got a gun

Her whole world's come undone

Shooting droids is FUN!

GO MUTANT JIMMERS GO!!!! 

YEAH BLONDIE DADDY WARCRIMES AND MUTANT JIMMERS!!!!!!

I AIN'T A BULLS FAN BUT REPEAT THE THREE PEAT! YEAH!!!!!!

....so when we gonna get Toaster Strudel and Rex? Next one? Where's my reg boys?!

-----------------

Tagging those who missed my Cajun neighbor. LOOKS LIKE REDNECK DOUG IS BACK ON THE MENU, BOYS!

@skellymom @amalthiaph @eyecandyeoz @cdblake1565 @sued134 @merkitty49 @supremechancellorrex @yeehawgeek @wrenkenstein @techs-stitches @deezlees @autistic-artistech @perfectlywingedcrusade @auntie-venom @megmca @thecoffeelorian

#tbb #cloneforce99 #thebadbatch #redneck doug #doug watches star wars #star wars tv #cajun doug #doug why #star wars fans #the bad batch #the bad batch season 3 #bad batch season 3 #tbb season three #tbb spoilers #tbb s3 #fan reaction

[onyour-right]

First things first, I'm gonna need Gen V to never fucking do that again. How dare they release such a good episode and only have it be 34 minutes??? Is it a fucking sitcom??? They do that again and we WILL have problems.

Now, Cate. I done told y'all she was the mole and now look. I mean do I still love her? Absolutely. Do I think she is a victim of Dean Shetty's manipulations? 100%. Do I believe she thought she was protecting her friends? Yup. But do I also think Andre was right somewhat in what he said? Yeah, kinda do. Listen, with all the good intentions in the world the fact that she repeatedly made Luke forget about his baby brother when she knew the type of turmoil it was causing in him is twisted. The same way she was going to confess to Andre before the text came is the same way she should have confessed to Luke. Granted I think the reason she was even going to confess to Andre was because of how wrong things were going. But still, she ain't right for that..

So, I see three possible avenues they might take with her: first, kill her off at the end of the season in order to redeem herself to her friends; second, she could become an antagonist to the group (tho this is less likely); or third, she may act as a double agent and spy back on shetty so they can find out what's really going on..

Jordan Li. My beloved. My baby boy/baby girl. I can understand why they thought Marie couldn't accept both sides of them and I'm so glad they explored a bit more into their character's history. But baby, Marie wants to love on you no matter what your gender so just let her!!! At least they got to a point where they realised they were being unfair to Marie over the whole situation though, so hopefully episode 6 will have them talking about it properly. Alsooooo, Jordan getting pissed when Marie's brain was tampered with again? Good fucking food. Jordan moving closer to Marie at Cate's reveal? I was eating that shit upppp. Jordan this whole episode was kinda unhinged and you know what? I wanna see more, please and thank you!!!

Alsoooo, can we talk real quick about Jordan's conversation with Andre and Cate because I cannot have been the only one who was straight dyingggg through it. "is it a black thing?" "...oh my God!!!". The way Jordan didnt even dismiss the fact that him and Marie made a good couple too. Likeeeee. C'monnnnn.

Marie, my sweet girl. Once she finds out the true extent of her powers its over for everyoneeeee; she's gonna fuck everyone up and I personally will be cheering her on at the sidelines!! Slightly worried though because 1) who is her benefactor?? and 2) what if they are able to capture her somehow??? She is yet to go unhinged and I would like to see it, especially if it's in relation to something happening to Jordan.

Emma and Sam. I mean you know its real when one half of the pairing's mind has been wiped and still there is an undeniable connection between them.The fact that Sam went out of his way to find Emma after all the shit that went down??? Ooof, I'm living for itttt. The fact that even though Emma hadn't gotten back her memories she still believed him? Don't make me cryyyyy. I loved how Emma realised how wrong her mother was about her "getting big" & how she's beginning to carve out who she wants to be for herself. Also, her and Marie's friendship is honestly just goals.

Also, lowkey everyone should have just let Sam kill that Dr Cardosa because he's gonna bring big problemssss I fear, and on that note they should have him kill Dean Shetty too because ole girl needs to skedaddle her way out (although the person who takes her place could be even worse, so idk about that yet)

Also, someone please give Andre a hug that boy needs it. Seeing him unhinged tho?? Ooofffffff 10/10.

#anyways these are my thoughts #long i know but #gen v #jordan li #marie moreau #cate dunlap #emma meyer #andre anderson #marie x jordan #limoreau #emma x sam #i cannot believe i have to wait yet another week ffs #feel free to message me and just scream thoughts over this show

[mildew-dread-mold]

REASONS TO VOTE RONAN AND NOT AANG FOR BALDSWAGSUMMIT

they may be both bald by choice, but ronan would have had dark luscious thick curls, can grow stubble overnight, and has to shave everyday (or enough that it is an explicit part of his daily schedule). not only is ronan bald by choice, he puts much more effort into being bald by choice than aang’s prepubescent, mostly hairless ass.

aang isn’t even bald all the time. at one point he is unconscious for a while and then goes undercover with hair, which spans at least half a season (i think?). ronan on the other hand was also in a coma for a good chunk of time but had not grown enough hair to be mentioned. ronan spends more time in his franchise bald than aang does.

in addition to this, when aang is in his dreams he has hair. ronan is bald in his dreams as well. who’s the ultimate bald now?

aang is bald because of what? his culture? which is cool and all but ronan is bald because when he has hair he reminds himself (and others) too much of his father whom he found dead in his family driveway when he was 15. ronan has a better bald-backstory. his baldness stems from a unique and heartbreaking place. aang is literally just a magic monk.

my friend tried to make the point that aang has a cool magic tattoo (which doesn’t have to do with baldness but does perhaps have to do with swag?) and i’d like us all to notice that ronan has not one but TWO tattoos, one of which was gotten to spite his older brother (swagful) and the other of which is a religious metaphor for dragging himself out of eden and rejecting paradise for mankind, and also is magical and keeps him from falling into a coma again (doubly swagful).

maggie stiefvater frequently uses the word “skull” instead of “head” when talking about ronan’s head because he is bald. which weirdly is a really nice synonym for “head” if you ask me. swagful AND bald. baldswagful. which is what the poll is for. aang may be from a cartoon and thus have no written description but you couldn’t call aang’s head a skull. that sounds wrong.

ronan gets bitches. like an overwhelming amount. adam gansey orla kavinsky. aang has gotten one singular bitch.

aang is 112 years old but ronan is a god so he’s been being since the start of time or whatever.

ronan is also an eldritch horror. nothing much more swagful than that. especially not some element bending pacifist kid.

if ronan loses his friends family enemies and everyone would bully him mercilessly. he would genuinely be devastated. adam would be like “sorry i don’t date bald men ranked below top 5” and blue would say “i could get an undercut and keep half of my hair and still beat your ass.” he would actually never recover mentally physically or financially. aang on the other hand would be perfectly fine. his friends would be like “it’s ok aang we still love your bald self” except for toph but aang wouldn’t care.

(if you don’t want to read all that i’ve bolded and italicized the key points.)

for all of the above reasons and more you should

Vote Ronan Lynch

for baldswagsummit2023. he is balder and more swagful than aang could ever dream to be.

#ronan lynch #trc #baldswagsummit2023 #ronansweep #and all that jazz #vote ronan lynch #slap his bald head #baldposting

[witcher-and-his-bard]

Love Letters

Pairing: Geralt x Jaskier Warning(s): none Rating: general

Fic Summary: Jaskier writes down all his feelings in a letter he never expects Geralt to see - only for Geralt to arrive shortly after, snowed out of Kaer Morhen.

For @jackironsides 💜

My beloved Geralt

Dear Geralt

Geralt, my love

No matter what he writes, it sounds wrong. Too intimate, too casual, too... much in one way or another. Jaskier hasn't even gotten past the introduction and he already wants to give up on the letter. It feels so easy over the summer, when he and Geralt spend long, muggy days walking side-by-side. Jaskier sings and Geralt rides, and occasionally, Geralt will even sing along with whatever he's playing.

Now, in the dark of his room at the academy, those feelings feel dull and distant. Not Jaskier's feelings, of course, but the potential reciprocation. These days, he finds himself thinking about Geralt's relationships with Eskel or Lambert, or even Vesemir. He wonders how different those relationships are to the one he shares with Geralt. Maybe those gentle things Geralt says to him in the comfort of their shared inn rooms are just things Geralt would say to anyone.

Ugh. Jaskier flops backward in his chair, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. He wishes there was an easy way to know these things, and for the first time in a long time he finds himself envying Yennefer. She could just read Geralt's mind, she could just know. And Geralt? He can smell emotions or something like that; at least, he always seems to know when Jaskier is upset about something. Maybe he took the wrong path in life. Maybe he should have tried to get into Ban Ard and become a mage. Surely there is some chaos in him, enough, at least, to be able to read minds.

Briefly, Jaskier considers contacting Yen. They've had a better relationship as of late, and she might be able to give him some insight, if nothing else. But he doesn't want to drag her into something that isn't really any of her business. Not because he's afraid to tell her, but because she might not want to know. She's happy now - travelling with Triss and Istredd last he heard - but there might be some leftover feelings there and he doesn't want to bring up Geralt in a romantic setting if he doesn't need to. Plus, he doesn't want to feel like more of a burden than he already does.

Jaskier looks down at the half-started letter in front of him and angrily crumples it up before blowing out the candle and shoving his chair back. He flops forward onto folded arms, looking out into the blue of the night sky, speckled with snow. Normally, he would take comfort in a view like this, but tonight, it just reminds him of how far away Geralt is.

Is it even worth beginning a relationship when they spend so much time apart? Would Geralt even be interested? Even if he was madly in love with Jaskier, would that be enough? What's the point when you have no one to cuddle with and watch the snowfall? But then maybe Geralt would want to visit some winters if they were more.

Gods, he wants that more than he can even properly comprehend. The idea of falling asleep in Geralt's arms feels like the height of romance. Already, Jaskier treasures the moments he falls asleep listening to Geralt's voice, even if he does feel a bit bad about it in the morning. Despite himself, a dopey smile spreads across his face at the thought. He misses Geralt more than he can say while they're apart in the winter. It's only a little into the season and already the long, dark winter feels endless.

Jaskier inhales deeply, sighs, and sits up to write. He's determined to finish this letter, even if it never reaches its intended audience.

Geralt,

I know it's barely been a month since we parted, but I find myself longing again for your company. Teaching is hectic as always, and my students love a tale of your heroism. I know you don't consider yourself a hero, but I do. Though lately, I find myself recalling different moments from our travels. I find myself thinking of the evenings after a contract has been completed and paid. I think back to the ale or tea and the stars hanging low in the sky. The way the firelight flickers on your face. I miss that. I miss the way your hair falls in your face when you take it down to sleep. I miss how stubborn you are about that awful headband. And I regret to tell you now that I've grown... rather fond of it, actually.

Rather rarely do I find myself at a loss for words, but they escape me when I try to nail down all the things I feel for you. I know I am a mere mortal, doomed to die years or even decades before you, but given the chance, I would happily live out the rest of my life at your side. Perhaps even in your arms.

I know love is not a word you use often, but the way I feel it could very well become something so all-encompassing. I can't promise that love is how I feel now. I find myself mixed up in a way I've never felt before. That's not to say that I don't love you, because I do. As a friend, as a companion, as something more. Perhaps one day, even as a lover. Even if you don't feel the same, I want you to know that you are deeply cared for in every way one person can care for another. I don't mind if you don't want to see me again, so long as it is your wish, and one borne out of intention rather than fear. Because although I've never spoken the words, I've longed for you for days and weeks and months and years, silently staying by your side. Perhaps one day you will have me there on purpose - despite, or maybe even because of, my feelings for you.

Until then, I remain yours, as always.

Jaskier.

Jaskier looks over the letter once more and, feeling an uncomfortable swell of emotion, folds it neatly and tucks it into an envelope that just reads Geralt. He's only just finished hiding the evidence when there's a knock at his door.

"Yes?" he asks.

"Sorry to interrupt so late," the voice on the other side of the door says. Jassa, Jaskier thinks, his assistant at the university. "You have a guest."

"A guest?" Jaskier asks, perplexed. Who on earth would brave this weather just to visit? The only guests he normally has are students or his fellow professors, either of whom would just come to his room and knock themselves.

"He says he's a friend. Geralt? I think," Jassa says.

Jaskier's heart somersaults.

"Right," he says, "of course. Send him up. I'll leave the door open."

"Certainly," Jassa smiles. "I'll send him right up. Have a good night, Professor."

"And you," Jaskier finishes, barely aware of what he's saying.

What is Geralt doing here? Of all the years they've known each other, he's never once come to visit over the winter, so why now? Jaskier turns around, leaning on the door, and is struck by the state of his room. For the last two days, he's done nothing but lie around and sulk, and it shows. He absolutely cannot let Geralt see his room like this.

Given he has roughly four minutes, maybe a few more if Geralt stops to talk to Jassa before coming up, it's not going to be easy. So Jaskier starts with the worst of it: the clothes and things laying all over the bed and floor. There is a surprising amount of mess considering Jaskier is the only one residing in the room, but he manages to get the worst of it tidied before the knock at the door. A final glance tells him only the desk and table are still cluttered, but that much is acceptable so he crosses to the door.

As he pulls it open, Jaskier is struck by Geralt's smile. He always is when they haven't seen each other for some time, but this feels more. Maybe it's because he's been considering his own feelings lately, but looking at Geralt, here and in person, makes his legs weak.

"Hi," he says shakily.

Geralt gives him an odd look, but it quickly turns into a half-smile and he steps into the room when Jaskier moves aside.

"I hope I'm not intruding," he says gently, "it's no trouble to find a room at the inn if-"

"Not at all," Jaskier interrupts. "I'd be happy to host you if you're staying.”

"I had hoped to," Geralt says.

"What brings you?" Jaskier asks.

"The route to Kaer Morhen was snowed over by the time we arrived in Kaedwen," he explains, "I thought this might be the best place to stay."

Part of Jaskier is delighted at the thought, though when he considers it further, Oxenfurt is further than any of the other places Geralt would be more than welcome to stay over the winter. There's no good reason for him to have travelled all the way to the coast, when surely Yen would have taken him in without question. Their relationship may not be romantic anymore, but Jaskier knows there is still a deep love between them. And he's happy for it, which makes it all the more confusing why Geralt is here. He thinks to ask, but reconsiders.

"Please," he says, remembering his manners, "make yourself at home. I can have a bath poured if you're tired? Was Roach properly cared for? Shall I call for supper-"

"Jaskier," Geralt says gently, "Roach is fine. A small meal would be nice, but there's no rush. Right now I'd just like to relax."

Of course, Jaskier thinks. He must have been travelling for weeks if he first attempted the path and then had to turn back. Jaskier had left him just north of the Pontar, between the mountain ranges, so that must have been-

"Jaskier?" Geralt asks, cutting off his train of thought. "Is everything alright?"

"Fine," Jaskier assures him. "Just wasn't expecting company and I'm not prepared for it- Not that you're not welcome!" he corrects quickly, and with a little too much vigour.

"Perhaps you're the one who needs a rest," Geralt says, half-teasingly.

"Just to get my head on straight," Jaskier assures him. "Why don't you make yourself comfortable and I'll go fetch something warm for you to eat."

Jaskier slips from the room, only stopping one he's far enough away that Geralt won't hear him. He stops and sighs, pressing a hand to his chest as if to stop the mad beating of his heart. Surely Geralt has heard it already and he’s given himself away, but he was hardly expecting to be visited like this out of the blue.

He takes another few calming breaths before continuing on down to the kitchen. He's close with the chef - with most of the staff if he's honest - and has more than once helped him out of a sticky situation with less-than-edible herbs, so his request for a private supper is granted with a smile. In the meantime, Jaskier makes his way back up to the room, holding his breath for a moment before opening the door.

Geralt is standing over the desk in the small room, mumbling quietly. As Jaskier approaches, slipping up behind him, he realizes Geralt is reading the poetry he'd been working on. Jaskier has never been so relieved to know how little Geralt thinks about his poems, as these ones are nearly explicitly about him, the only relief being that his name is not used. Wolf, he uses once or twice, but it's a metaphor and Geralt always says he doesn't care for flowery things like metaphors.

"This is... lovely," Geralt says, though he sounds a bit off as he does.

"Thank you," Jaskier says quietly, slipping around to Geralt's side to see which one he's reading.

"You- your narrator sounds sad."

"Ah, yes. Been a bit of a downer lately, I suppose."

Jaskier tries to laugh it off but Geralt turns to look at him, something like concern in his expression.

"What's wrong?"

"Oh nothing's wrong," Jaskier assures. "I've just not been feeling myself."

"Can I help?"

Jaskier is taken aback by the blunt suggestion and his head jerks up to meet Geralt's eyes.

"I'm not sure you could, love," he says gently.

"If someone has hurt you-"

"No," Jaskier says quickly.

"You reek of heartache," Geralt says bluntly.

"Right. Well." He considers for a moment before deciding against lying to Geralt. "Unrequited love, I'm afraid."

"How do you know it is?"

"Unrequited?" Jaskier laughs, "oh, my darling, he'd have to be the stupidest man alive not to know. Or perhaps the most oblivious. I'm sure he would have said something if he felt the same."

"You haven't," Geralt counters.

"Right, well- He wouldn't want someone like me, surely."

"Perhaps he feels you think the same of him."

Jaskier had considered that option, but it seems unlikely.

"Either way, it's best just to tell him. I'm sure he'll be flattered if nothing else."

The mere suggestion of it makes Jaskiers stomach turn and he nods slowly. Thankfully, at that moment, supper is delivered to their room and he is spared the thought of confessing his feelings - out loud - to Geralt.

His relief is short-lived as supper is finished shortly, but he makes an excuse about taking the dishes away and dashes out the door with them. Jaskier wants to cry. He can't believe he's gotten himself into a mess like this and he can only hope Geralt doesn't continue to bring it up.

He's so distracted thinking about it that it seems like seconds before he's standing back in front of his door. He hesitates before opening the door, keeping his eyes closed until the last possible moment.

When he opens his eyes, Jaskier's heart jumps into his throat. As Geralt turned to see him, a piece of paper had fallen from his hands and Jaskier can't take his eyes off it. He'd been so preoccupied worrying about the mess when Geralt showed up that he'd forgotten to hide the letter. And it was addressed to Geralt, he had every right to read it, but-

"Jaskier?"

Jaskier scrambles across the floor, reaching for the letter, but Geralt catches his wrist, holding him still.

"Is this just another one of your poems?" he asks quietly.

Jaskier shakes his head. There's no use denying it.

"It's… me. I'm the one you were talking about earlier."

Jaskier half wishes he could fall through the floor and never have to finish this conversation. Sadly, despite how hard he wishes, the floor refuses to open up beneath him. He nods.

"I want to hear you say it."

Jaskier's tongue feels heavy in his mouth but he manages, "I don't know what to say. I don't want to make any big confessions I can't live up to."

"Then how about this?" Geralt says.

He leans in, taking Jaskier's face in his hand, and softly presses their lips together. For a moment, Jaskier forgets to breathe and has trouble believing this is real at all. But when Geralt pulls back again, he's smiling, his cheeks a faint shade of pink. Jaskier's first thought is that it's quite a pretty colour on him before he presses forward and kisses him again.

"Yeah," he breathes, barely pulling away to speak, "I think that's a good start."

#rex writes #i just barely managed to sneak in a fic in January #first one of the year #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #the witcher

[gffa]

Hi :)

I'm a pretty new SW fan, not because I didn't like the movies/hadn't seen them but because I grew up thinking it was extremely nerdy and would often feel awkward trying to bring up anything related to SW.

Fortunately I've finally reached and met awesome people who love SW just like I did but I feel like I lost A LOT of important stuff and there's so much content to the saga that it's extremely overwhelming for me to even think about diving into the whole SW universe and catch up.

I've been following you for a bit and your posts are just extremely interesting to me but again, sometimes I'm a little confused about certain things and so I wanted to ask you if you had any recommendations about where to start catching up (besides the movies which I will be binge watching soon hehe)

Hi! Welcome to Star Wars fandom, I hope you're having a good time! And around here we embrace being as nerdy as possible--I mean, fandom is such a mainstream thing these days, but I still like to embrace being a nerd about things because it leads to a lot more happiness, to just be silly and having a good time with the thing that tickles our brains.

But, yes, it is pretty overwhelming when you're first arriving, I still remember when I first came back to SW several years ago, having really only watched the movies as a kid, and there was All This Stuff and it seemed impossible to ever reach the deep end of the pool, and that was before the last seven years of books, games, movies, comics, etc. came out! I will hopefully set your mind at ease with this, though: The vast, vast majority of content that Star Wars puts out isn't anything I would consider "essential". It's wonderful, fantastic stuff! But a lot of us have just been around so long that we're combing through the finer details of supplementary material, rather than those being absolute Must-Read/Watch To Get A Feel For Star Wars.

My recommendations for How To Get A Feel For Star Wars is basically, start with the animated series and the live action series, they're the second layer of foundation in the Star Wars building, all the comics and novels and such will be built on them, and in this order: - The movies, this is the foundation on which everything else will be built. - The Clone Wars, season 1-6 are part of George Lucas' story and they're pretty essential (at least in this corner of SW fandom) to understanding wtf anyone is talking about or even watching many of the live action series. (Season 7 is fine and should be watched! It's just not part of Lucas' Star Wars.) - Star Wars: Rebels, starts off light-hearted but really is one of the best developed shows and does a lot of connective work between the prequels and the original trilogy. - The Mandalorian, set 9 years after Return of the Jedi, this show just massively blew up and while each season is slightly less well-done than the previous one (imo), it's well worth watching for wtf fandom is talking about half of the time. (The Book of Boba Fett is somewhat optional in this corner of fandom, but imo worth the watch. Generally, it should go Mando s1-2 --> TBOBF --> Mando s3.) - Obi-Wan Kenobi, because this corner of fandom lost our goddamned minds about it and still haven't gotten them back. - Andor, which is a really great show and, as long as you've watched Rogue One first, you'll follow along just fine. Does some solid connecting the dots between the prequels and the originals, but not as much as Rebels did. - Jedi: Fallen Order, you can look up a "movie" version on YouTube for the story of this game, which is a really good plot, has some great new characters, has some genuinely effective cameos, and will be referenced fairly often in other materials/in fandom.

If you're not feeling overwhelmed by All The Star Wars You've Consumed, I would personally suggest going for the comics next, over any of the novels. The novels are great! But the vast majority of them are self-contained and meant to be supplementary material even more than the comics, which get to tell bigger, more connected stories. I always suggest starting with: - Star Wars 2015 by Jason Aaron + Darth Vader 2015 by Kieron Gillen, both of which are really, solidly fantastic stories about the timeframe just after A New Hope, like there are so many absolutely banger lines that came out of these comics. I won't spoil them, just know that I think these were legitimately good comics, not just legitimately good Star Wars comics. (The first six issues of each series are meant to be read concurrently, but after that, you can just pick one and read in that specific title.) - Darth Vader: Dark Lord of the Sith 2017 by Charles Soule, which is set in the immediate aftermath of Revenge of the Sith. If Gillen's Vader keeps the mystique of the originals Unknowable Darth Vader, then Soule's Vader is more about the absolute BATSHIT DRAMA that is blending Anakin Skywalker and Darth Vader. This series is BANANAPANTS in the absolute best way. - Obi-Wan & Anakin 2015 by Charles Soule, which is a five-issue mini-series set between The Phantom Menace and Attack of the Clones and is both stunningly beautiful art and a solidly good plot that survives fairly serious analysis of. It's got some great worldbuilding details, but even more I like it for the look at why a young Anakin chooses to stay with the Jedi Order.

The one book I will recommend--for a list aimed at getting you caught up on what fandom is referencing--is the Revenge of the Sith novelization by Matthew Stover, that book is quoted constantly, and I'm not sure any other SW book has ever been as good as it is.

I feel like this is the best set of reading to get you familiarized with the source material that tends to come up the most! There's lots more that's really good, but once you get through the above, you can let me know what era or characters you're most interested in or if you have a specific question about something and want to see where it comes from!

But there's one thing to address and you're kinda going to have to figure out how to approach it on your own. 😂 There is a ton of stuff in SW fandom that's ostensibly from a book or a comic, but the version in fandom often comes from those who never actually read the books/haven't read them in a long time or are just picking them up from other fic and meta.

For example, the AgriCorps or Melida/Daan get referenced in fic and in posts all the time, but I wouldn't necessarily recommend reading the Jedi Apprentice series (I mean, I'm not your mom, feel free if you want to!) and often times how they're used in fic is not how they were used in the source material. Or the clones speaking Mando'a comes from the Legends books by Karen Traviss and she is a whole big can of ugly worms (both what she wrote and her IRL politics), as well as much of what she wrote was overwritten/discarded when The Clone Wars came out, but fandom likes the idea and so they put that into their fics (as they should, if they like it!). The idea of Mace using the lightsaber form of Vaapad is from Legends sources (the best source probably being the Shatterpoint novel by Matthew Stover, I'd guess?), same for his ability to see "shatterpoints" in the Force, which aren't part of Lucas' continuity or Disney's continuity, but fandom enjoys using them to flesh out Mace's character. This will get you started and, if you're looking for something more specific, feel free to ask, I enjoy these kinds of question--and don't feel you have to stick with any of the above if they're not fun for you. This is meant to be enjoyable, it's meant to have a good time, there's no wrong way to consume Star Wars media! <3

#lumi.txt #star wars #novel recs #(eh that's my tag for this kind of thing)

[theminecraftbee]

When Cleo arrives at Joe's base, they discover him leaning over the increasingly large lockbox he uses to take things between seasons.

(At one point - when Cleo had first met him, actually - the thing had been tiny. Not much point taking that much between super hostile worlds. After they'd gotten onto hermitcraft, they'd discovered the box he'd used to carry stuff from season one to two was a bit larger. Now, she's not sure whether they should call that thing a 'lockbox' or a 'safe', honestly, but whatever it is, it's still liftable, so probably not a safe? It's not important. They share space with him, because they'd never felt the need to get one of their own, but occasionally...)

Anyway. When they find him, he's in his pinball back box, surrounded by shulker boxes he's not using, leaning over the lockbox, staring at something.

"Hey, Joe," she says.

"Hey Cleo," Joe says, not looking up.

"Did you lose something between here and Empires?" Cleo asks. "I didn't see you bring that thing with you to the Rift."

"No, no," Joe says. "I, uh - honestly, was looking for something else, got a bit stuck. Forgotten I'd... I mean, it doesn't really matter, I think, I'd just forgotten I'd put some of these things in here. I didn't have that much time to - well, no, I guess we had like, two months to think about it -"

"...lose something from season eight, then?" Cleo says, and they don't quite succeed in leaving their voice quite as light.

Joe shrugs. "Was actually looking for this thing Scar gave me after six, but..."

"Yeah?"

Joe picks up a notebook. It's dirty, but at least it's not singed, the way Joe had laughingly told Cleo half his clothes were, after. Cleo had laughed back and made a comment about dusty endstone. Both of them had made new wardrobes.

They suppose it wouldn't be. If he hadn't put it in the box before the moment of...

Joe flips through the pages. He shrugs, a tiny little hesitant motion, and gestures at the last page.

Cleo grimaces. They'd forgotten just how... messy... Joe's measurements had gotten over time. The ink is splotchy and inconsistent. There's a strange air of finality to the numbers, just as much as there's a strange sense of resignation to the observations he'd written to the side of them.

The date on the measurement is December 21st.

It's the last measurement.

"Oh," Cleo says.

"I really wasn't looking for it," Joe says, and his voice is tiny.

"I didn't think you'd keep them," Cleo says helplessly.

"I have - the castle floorplans are in this," Joe says.

"Oh. Right. And you kept -"

"I wouldn't not."

"Of course."

The two of them look at the notebook again for a little bit.

"It's really been a year and I didn't notice?" Cleo says.

"I mean - I mean, we didn't really think about - dates are a social construct," Joe says.

"It feels like the kind of date I ought to remember, is all," Cleo says. "Given."

"Christmas is in three days," Joe says. "We didn't do anything last year. That's why I was looking for - I mean, obviously we didn't do anything last year. What with the, you know, everything. But I was looking for some of the stuff I had - Scar gave me this thing after season six that I was gonna hide for him during the party."

"Are we having a party? All of those people are here," Cleo says. "Oh, god," they say after another moment. "Just because I forgot the date doesn't mean... all of them are here. Do you think someone ought to warn them that..."

"I mean, uh," Joe says. "I mean. We both forgot..."

He looks up. Cleo looks up with him. The sky is blue. It's lightly cloudy. It's a cold day. Everything is on the ground that ought to be on the ground, and everything in the sky is the place in the sky it should be, for a lightly cloudy, blue-skyed morning.

"You should put that away," Cleo says.

"Now I'm not gonna," Joe says.

"Joe," Cleo says.

"Help me finish my Christmas gifts?" Joe says.

"Fine," Cleo says, and they don't talk about it. Joe puts the notebook carefully up on a shelf, flipped to the page with the floorplans. All of the chairs and beds and tables they'd never got to put in are sketched out on the pale pages, and it strikes Cleo all at once that in some ways, Atlantis is already more finished than the castle got to be.

They resolutely decide it doesn't matter. The date isn't the thing that'll remind them, anyway.

#hermitcraft #joe hills #zombiecleo #moon big #one year ago today. merry moon big #a bee fic #i feel like the date wouldn't hit them the day of. it's not an anniversary they'd remember #i think it would just strike them all of a sudden in little things #joe finds his notebook. cleo realizes they've already spent more time here than they did there #something smells a little too much like smoke and despair #you know what i mean?

[melonba11s]

Not Home For The Holidays

A fic for the true beginning of the holiday season! Enjoy your first christmas season with Strade!

Contains: Some slight domestic horror, Tense feelings, MC is a bit emotional.

It was a normal morning. As normal as it could get under Strade. You were careful as you got up trying not to agitate your fresh wounds from last night, stretching to try and release tension in muscles that you didn’t even know existed before you met Strade. 

Leaving the bedroom and silently moving into the hall, you run into Ren. He gives you a half grin that quickly stops, as it stretches the fresh gash on his jaw. It would probably scar. But scars were no longer something to sob over or brag about. They were just a part of life now. 

“Good Morning.” You said, your voice still fogged with sleep. Ren nodded, touching his tender jaw. 

“Mornin’” he said, experimenting with talking, frowning as he tried to figure out the best way to talk without causing himself pain. Strade liked it when you talked. Either to him, or eachother so he could listen. 

“Coffee?” You continued to walk, listening to Ren as he gave a grunt of agreement. 

The morning went on quietly, just enjoying eachothers passive company as you prepared coffee and Ren put a pan on the stove, checking the fridge. Something easy to chew for him, but hearty and filling. It was December 1st, and the weather matched it. 

A chill had settled throughout the house, a layer of cold air keeping close to the ground, freezing your toes. A mug of coffee, some fluffy scrambled eggs, maybe some oatmeal. An old fashioned breakfast, but one that would warm you both up from the inside. 

Both of you stiffened up though when the basement door opened, announcing that Strade was awake.

“Scheisse! Cold morning isn’t it? I’m stiff all over… Though maybe we can blame that on the basement couch.” Strade laughed, though neither you or Ren joined in, back towards him. You both barely managed a sideways glance at each other. 

“What's going on?” Strade asked, suddenly appearing behind the two of you, hand on each of your shoulders. Ren’s ears were flat, but he was attempting to calm himself down. You should too. 

Strade should have gotten it out of his system yesterday, right? Nothing horrible would happen now. You could answer normally without worrying about your bare hand being pressed against the stovetop, or hot coffee poured over your face. 

“B-Breakfast…” You said slowly, trying to gauge Strades reaction without looking at him. “Eggs, Oatmeal, and some Coffee. There’s some in the pot for you.” You stopped talking as Strades fingers curled around your shoulder, squeezing a little tightly. 

“Schatz. Fuchs. Look at me.” You didn’t want to. Ren didn’t want to. You both did anyways, chins lightly brushing at the collars resting at your throats. Strade looked between the two of you, grinning. 

“Pour me a cup, will ya? And you know what, ‘Tis the season! Add a bit of milk for me.” He let out a laugh, apparently enjoying how he had struck fear into both of you with a few simple words. Strade turned around and walked to the front door, no doubt about to grab the morning paper. 

“It looks like snow!” His joyful voice rang through the house like a bell as he shouted back. A tickle of the outside’s freezing temperature reached the kitchen before he slammed the door shut, coming back with the paper. 

Both you and Ren shared a look, a small smile, finally relaxing, at least a little. It was over, you could both relax for now. You did as he asked, pouring him a cup of coffee, leaving room as Ren began to pour in some milk. 

You glanced at Ren, mildly confused, as he reached into the cupboard. He shuffled items around for a bit, then took out the jars of cinnamon and nutmeg. 

“It’s the holiday season.” he shrugged, beginning to sprinkle a light dusting of the festive flavors over the top of the coffee. 

Strade was sitting at the kitchen table now, opening up the paper. 

“Hmph, already got the christmas ads up…” Strade grumbled, raising his chin to Ren in thanks as Ren set the coffee down. You watched, with bated breath, as he took a sip. A smile on his scruffy cheeks at first, savoring the unexpected flavors of spices.

“You’re getting really into the season, aren’t you Ren?” he asked, referencing the extra spices on his coffee. Unasked for, but not disliked. 

Ren perked up a bit. 

“I like it. The lights are pretty and everything feels cozier, doesn’t it?” You busied yourself with the eggs as Ren spoke. 

“Hmm.” Strade’s voice had a flat tone to it. “I guess. I don’t really have family to visit, I usually spend my holidays alone, maybe watch a special or two.” 

Your heart gave a small twinge of sympathy. You had a lot of happy memories of the holiday season, family and friends. Spending time with people you didn’t get to see often, the smell of pine and peppermint cocoa, playing in the snow. The idea that someone who loved people as much as Strade viewed it as a lonelier time made you feel a rare bout of sympathy for him.

And suddenly your heart ached. Because you’d never experience those things again. Not as long as Strade held the remote to your collar and the keys to the house. 

“Are you alright?” Ren whispered, leaning in. You realized that your eyes had quickly filled with tears as reality set in again. The reality of all you had lost when Strade clipped that collar onto you, the reality you had forgotten in an attempt to protect yourself. 

“I’m fine.” you shot back, quickly blinking the tears away, pushing the happy memories and melancholy back down again. Now wasn’t the time. 

You both worked to put together breakfast, before sitting at the table with a Strade who had become oddly silent, buried in the paper. He chanced a look at him, seeing an oddly solemn expression on his face. Then, just as you finished the last of your coffee… 

“I guess I won’t be alone this year though, will I?” Strade set the paper down, his eyes suddenly shining. 

“... None of us will.” Ren said. “... Can we-” He was cut off as Strade stood up. 

“I guess that means I should go all out! You two watch the house, I’m heading out.” You had never seen Strade look so excited over something that didn’t involve a lot of pain on your end. He picked up his mug and downed the rest of his coffee, a small amount running down the side of his mouth. He quickly wiped his face, and set his now empty mug down on the table before heading for the door.

“I’ll be back later!” He said, a rustle of him throwing on his coat and boots before he opened the door. And with that, the door slammed shut. Both you and Ren sat at the table, looking at each other in bewilderment as the car started up. It was only when it faded away, leaving you both truly alone that you could both fully relax. 

���... I guess he’s excited to have company for Christmas.” Ren said, beginning to pick up the used dishes at the table. You could only nod, back into stewing in your thoughts. It was safer to be emotional when Strade wasn’t around. You worked quickly to help Ren clean up, before excusing yourself to the bathroom. 

The quick walk there felt slow, foggy. You held a hand to your chest to feel your heart as it picked up speed. It was only once the door was closed behind you that you let the first gasp escape your choked throat, and you slunk to the floor, burying your face into your hands. 

Maybe it was just how it all built up, but crying in this situation didn’t make you feel better. It made you feel absolutely sick, thinking about how your life had been stolen from you. Your dreams thrown out and replaced only with Strade’s whims, and a time of the year that you had once loved so much… 

It felt like a mockery of it all, having to spend it under him. You didn’t want to share hot cocoa with Strade, look at pretty lights with his hand on your shoulder. You didn’t want to sit there and pretend everything was normal and fine when he could turn to you at any moment and slide a knife under your skin or twist your arm behind your back until you screamed. 

A festive song or eggnog wouldn’t change any of that. He was a sick bastard who had you under his thumb and he was going to rub it in now the entirety of December. 

A soft knock at the door made you pull your face from your hands, leaving a mess of tears and snot in them. 

“Come in.” Your voice was choked, and Ren appeared. 

“... Are you alright?” he asked for the second time that day. And this time you could be honest. 

“Not really.” you shuffled to sit against the wall, letting Ren sit next to you. A moment of silence before you heaved a sigh, deciding to say how you felt. 

“I wish he’d just ignore it. Pretend it doesn’t exist. It’d be better than whatever he wants to do now. It will all feel so fake…” Ren made a noise of comfort, resting a hand on your shoulder. 

“... If it helps, I don’t think he’s doing this to be mean or get a reaction from us.” he started, waiting to see how you reacted to those words before continuing. 

“... Strade loves people, he told me before he doesn’t like winter because not many people are out and about, he doesn’t get to talk to them as much. But this year is different. He has us, whether we want to be here or not. We can make the best of what we have, can’t we? If we don’t, neither of us will survive.” 

You hugged your knees, and leaned against your only true equal in the house. His tail wrapped around you, a form of comfort. You both stayed like that for who knows how long, Ren letting you cry on his shoulder. Ren at least understood that you wouldn’t feel better right away. That you needed a bit of time to get yourself together.

A while later, eyes dry, a few glasses of water, and after finding a tv channel playing some soft Christmas instrumental music, you were both on the living room floor. Neither of you had any idea what Strade was bringing back, but you wanted to partake in something festive. So paper snowflakes it was. 

Ren had a better eye for it than you, crafting intricate giant flakes for the walls while yours ended up looking more generic. Still pretty though, finding different places to hang them on the walls. They didn’t stand out much against the beige, but it felt nice to at least be doing something. 

Both of you came up with some other ideas as well. Popping popcorn and threading it together for simple garlands. Ren ventured into the basement for a short time and came back with twine and some old light bulbs Strade had never thrown out. 

A few moments later with Ren’s direction, the two were turned into rustic looking decorative pears. You ended up laying them down on the TV stand, and even the wonkier ones looked nice. 

The quiet time without Strade came to a close with some baking. Ren requested ingredients all the time, and luckily, the cabinets were stocked with the perfect essentials for cookies. Settling on Gingersnaps, making sure Ren kept his tail tucked back to prevent fur from getting into them. 

The entire house smelt of molasses and spices as the last batch came out of the oven. And suddenly, the peace was shattered with the front door opening. Yet again a blast of cold air came in, and this time, a few flakes of snow as you heard a struggling grunt, and rustling of branches. 

“Verdammt!” Strade grunted, and both you and Ren, curious but cautious, peaked around the corner. Whatever you expected Strade to return with, a giant tree wasn’t one of them. It was still wrapped in twine as he dragged it over the threshold, before glancing at you two, sweaty but smiling. 

“Smells good in here! You two, get this into the living room for me. Find a spot for it, I got a stand back in the car for it” Passing off the struggle to you both, Strade stomped back into the cold. 

The smell of fresh pine was invading your senses as you grabbed the smaller end, leaving Ren with the large part to rangle towards the living room. The next 15 minutes got more absurd, as Strade brought in not only a stand, but a new box of ornaments, several strands of lights, and candy canes. 

You stared at him, mouth open as he finally tugged in the last bag of goodies before flopping on the couch, letting out a groan of exhaustion. His cheeks were rosy from the cold, his boots had tracked the freshly fallen snow into the house leaving small brackish puddles in the shape of foot prints. 

And you had no idea how to feel. You wanted to cry again, you wanted to hug Strade for going all out, you wanted to be sick. But then Ren’s words echoed in your head. 

“Make the best with what we have.” 

You hadn’t even noticed Ren had left the room until he came back, a plate stacked with fresh cookies that he set down on the table. 

“I know you don’t like sweets much, Strade, but I thought you’d enjoy some Gingersnaps.” Ren was so easily making the best of what he had. You reached towards the tree, which Strade had already put into its stand for you. The needles weren’t sharp enough to pierce you, they only tickled lightly. The heavy scent of a balsam fir had already permeated the living room. 

“Mmph, good job.” Strade said, his voice heavy with food. “I see you both already did some decorating…. I like the popcorn strings.” he gave a grin, leaning back further into the couch as he kicked off his boots. 

“You two can decorate the tree, you both probably have a better eye for it than me.” You glanced down at the boxes at your feet. A thrum of excitement went through you, excitement that you immediately tried to tamp down. What if Strade saw how happy this made you and decided to take it away? 

You gingerly leaned down and picked up a string of lights first, glancing at Strade warily before beginning to unravel it. No matter how many times you looked at him, gaze trailing over his face for approval, his expression didn’t change. 

“Go on, Schatz. Have fun. Both of you” He encouraged, grabbing the television remote and changing the channel. 

Ren was already diving into the lights, his tail thumping against the floor as he plugged in the multicolored lights. The reds, blues, greens and yellows danced in his eyes as he grinned at you. 

“Come on, help me put them on.” He said, beginning to wrestle with the branches of the tree. 

You let go. You closed your eyes and took in a deep breath, letting the tension of having Strade so close melt away. He would hurt you again, but that didn’t matter right now. You needed to make the best of what you had. 

And it became so easy too, bickering with Ren on the placement of different ornaments, the sparkling baubles and tinsel all serving to excite him. And it was such palpable excitement that it rubbed off on you. 

Strade stayed sitting, watching and laughing as you two had your fun. You knew Strade liked seeing you in pain, crying, or mad. But it hadn’t occurred to you that he could enjoy seeing you happy as well. But it was obvious now, the way he sucked in the joy from you both and let it shine throughout his face, warming the entire room. 

Finally after a few hours, you flopped onto the couch next to him, unable to help yourself as you pressed a cheek against his shoulder. A laugh, and an arm around you as he rubbed your upper arm. 

“Tired out, Schatz?” he asked, as Ren joined you on the other side of Strade. 

The house was still a little chilly, and you just nodded, pushing yourself closer against Strade to try and conserve some warmth. It was now dark outside, with snow pelting against the window as Strade turned the volume up on TV. Some weird sort of Hallmark Christmas special. 

You reached forward and grabbed a cookie off the plate, beginning to nibble on it as an attractive woman on screen kissed an equally attractive man in front of a picturesque Christmas tree. 

You were making the best with what you had, like Ren advised you too. You could forget about what Strade had done, for just a moment right now. Because right now, you were warm, snug against him with his arm draped over you. The house smelt like spices, pine and warmth. 

You closed your eyes, letting the multi-color lights on the tree cast shapes against your eyelids. Maybe you could even look back on this time one day and view it as a happy memory. It would be far easier on yourself if you chose to enjoy your time here when you could. 

So you chose to do just that, relaxing fully against Strade's side. 

#boyfriend to death #strade #btd fanfic #boyfriend to death fanfic #strade btd #ren btd #ren hana #ren boyfriend to death #ren hana btd

[lemony-snickers]

11. tentative hand holding

Kakashi pairing 😊

The storm that halted your progress continues to rage outside the small shelter you and Kakashi have constructed. You should be home by now, wrapped in blankets after a hot shower, maybe a cup of tea balanced on your knees.

Instead, you're crouched beneath an overhang dodging ice pellets and the tattered remnants of tree branches.

"Lovely weather we're having," Kakashi says, voice barely discernible over the howling wind.

You snort.

Everything had gone perfectly during your mission, at least. No snags or hiccups. Hell, before the squall rolled in, the two of you were on pace to return to Konoha a full half-day before you were scheduled.

"Gotta love this time of year," you say, "every season smashed together in a 24-hour period."

Kakashi chuckles in agreement. "Summer this morning, winter by the time you go to sleep."

You sigh, leaning your head back against the cool stone. "At least it's warm enough our toes aren't in any danger."

Kakashi agrees, "Still, it would be better if we hadn't gotten drenched before we found this spot."

He's not wrong. You are soaked to your skin beneath your ANBU uniform, the pants sticking uncomfortably to your thighs, the bend of your knee. You shake your head, droplets loosing wildly from the strands of your hair.

"You're worse than my ninken," Kakashi chides.

"Shut up."

He does, though you think his amused smile lingers beneath his mask.

The space you and Kakashi have claimed for yourselves is cramped, a cut out set into the side of a stone ridge. You and Kakashi dragged as many large tree branches as you could feasibly gather without being out in the rain for too long to stack against the opening before you finally conceded to the weather.

You sit, shoulder-to-shoulder, thigh-to-thigh, watching the violent mixture of hail and rain beyond the meagerly fortified entrance.

You hope it isn't too obvious how his proximity both exhilirates and frightens you. How long you've harbored a crush for the Copy Ninja you aren't entirely sure, but you know enough about him to think he's not very interested.

Of all his admirers, you certainly aren't the most impressive or good-looking.

Still, it's nice to let your imagination wander for a moment as the two of you watch the storm, to consider what it might be like if you got to sit with him like this all the time, not only when necessary for your safety.

"I'm not keeping you from any important plans am I?" he asks.

You scrunch your face up as you turn to look at him, forgetting for a moment you both removed your masks once you settled into your makeshift camp.

"I don't think you're the one keeping me from anything," you say, gesturing with one hand at the raucous display of nature happening only feet away.

He shakes his head, "Be that as it may, I'm sorry if you were looking forward to better company than me tonight."

There's something about the tone of his voice that tugs at you a little. Not sad, exactly, but almost.

"Trust me, there are very few people I'd be as happy to spend my time with." The way his single eye widens a fraction when you say it makes you think you've revealed too much of your feelings. Hastily, you clear your throat and add, "You're a good commander, one of my favorite teammates. I'm glad we were assigned to this mission together."

You don't dare look at him, afraid he'll be able to read the true meaning of your words in your gaze. You've never been as good at concealing your emotions as he is, so you stare resolutely ahead, trying to count the raindrops to keep yourself occupied.

The two of you sit in silence for a while, the storm continuing to batter the branches you laid at the entrance. The hail gets larger, then smaller again. It disappears and then begins anew.

Kakashi groans. "I thought it was finally letting up," he says.

"Apparently we used all our luck up on that mission."

Kakashi laughs, the sound reverberating off the stone behind you as loud as the thunder cracking across the sky outside. The sound sends a shiver down your spine and he must mistake the motion for you being cold because Kakashi pulls his arm wide and says, "Come here. We'll stay warmer this way."

You hesitate. Because it's plenty warm enough already. It isn't even worth building a fire--the rain would surely snuff it out in a few short minutes, anyway. But you doubt you'll ever get this opportunity again, so you huddle closer to Kakashi under the guise of necessity and his arm wraps comfortably around your shoulders.

You mean to say, "thank you," but you're not sure the words ever make it out of your mouth.

The sound of happily chirping birds serves as an alarm clock the next morning, your eyes flutter open to the sight of golden sunlight streaming in between the branches. It takes a moment for you to recognize the pillow beneath your head is actually a human shoulder--Kakashi's shoulder--and the warmth you feel at your back is his arm.

"Good," he says, "I didn't want to wake you, but we should really get going."

The realization that you have spent the night sleeping in Kakashi Hatake's arms jolts you to alertness.

"Sorry!" you say, trying to work yourself out of his grasp only to meet resistance. "You could have woken me up," you say, turning to look at him, extremely conscious of the weight of his arm still looped over your shoulder.

His voice is much softer than you've ever heard it when he tells you, "You don't have to apologize. It was actually very nice."

The way he smiles at you makes you feel like an Aburame--body buzzing with a hive of anxious flying insects.

He lets you go easily the next time you pull away, and the two of you toss aside the branches you used as a shield the night before so you can continue the rest of your journey back to Konoha. You expect Kakashi to leap up into the trees, to set a quick pace to make up some of the lost time.

Instead, though, he opts to walk slowly through the forest, like he's trying to savor the moment.

You think of the way he looked at you when you woke up, how easily he offered his body heat and closeness. Maybe it's the scent of the rain or the warmth of the sun on your shoulders, or the lingering giddy feeling of his skin against your cheek, but something bold and reckless flares in your chest.

"Kakashi?" you ask, waiting for him to turn and look at you before you continue, "When we get back, would you... would you like to maybe have dinner with me?"

You wish he hadn't put his ANBU mask back on so you could better read his expression. But then he nods, says, "That sounds nice, I'd love to," and your mouth breaks into such a giddy, love-sick grin beneath your own mask you're suddenly very grateful for them.

As you continue your journey home, Kakashi maintains the same languid, unhurried pace. You watch his hands swing slowly as he walks, half wondering why they aren't forcefully shoved into his pockets as they usually are.

With that same buzzy insect feeling in your stomach, you slowly reach out a gloved hand and brush your fingers against his knuckles. You let your hand linger there for a moment, testing his response, prepared to pull away at the slightest hint of disinterest.

Instead, you feel Kakashi's fingers press against yours and then slot between them. You curl your hand, caging his, and feel the soft brush of his thumb as it caresses yours.

Yes, you're definitely grateful for the ANBU mask now because there's no way you would be able to explain away the goofy smile you're wearing if anyone saw it.

#kakashi hatake #kakashi x you #kakashi x reader #gn!reader #lemony scribbles #april 🌧️ lem 💐 #konohacereallover