#TINY ITTY BITTY little change in expression

[sebille]

Oh the little change in his expression

[strawberrystepmom]

dante x f!reader. cw: alcohol mentioned, mild hurt/comfort, he refers to reader by the nickname sunshine. established relationship, making up after a fight. | wc 1.8k, reading time: ~7 minutes.

“What on earth is he caterwauling about?”

Lady barely makes the effort to look up and greet you from her perch at the dark marble countertop of the bar, choosing to simply raise a brow and snort fairly humorlessly. 

“I honestly assumed it was over you. Are you two not fighting?”

Your usual spot, situated almost exactly halfway between Devil May Cry and the archive where you spend your daytime hours, is filled with its usual smoky haze. Music from karaoke and the jukebox become one, creating a cacophony when they combine with the various conversations from the groups clustered around the crowded room. 

It’s a lot. It’s even worse when you don’t have Dante chattering in your ear the entire time to drown out the rest of the awful noise. 

Sliding down beside her, bar stool swinging slightly as you do, you lean in close to find some semblance of privacy. Not that anyone could hear you over your boyfriend’s version of some down tempo rock song that was popular when the two of you were younger. 

That’s where half of the racket is coming from. Boy is he making a show of it. 

It may be a ridiculous sight but it’s tugging at your heartstrings. You don’t want him to see you wearing the pinched eyebrow expression that always indicates you’re feeling pity. Dante doesn’t want to be pitied. Ever. Unfortunately at this very second it’s hard to do anything but. 

Wincing, you consider where to begin. “I mean, not really but…” is where you land but it comes to a quick stop as soon as your companion shakes her head in response. 

“Just say yes.” She sighs, now turning to look at you with a disappointed frown. “If you have to start with a caveat the answer is yes and fuck, stop hiding behind me if you aren’t going to do a decent job at it.”

You drop the pity expression and pick up a frustrated one instead, switching them out by dropping just one brow and keeping the other raised.  “I’m not hiding, I just don’t want him to see me yet.”

Lady shakes her head incredulously, reaching to the side to grab her drink again and finish the last of the amber liquid. She’s going to need a lot more than liquid courage to make it through the night if the drama gets any worse. 

“Okay. Well, apparently he doesn’t want anyone to see him because he doesn’t think that they’ll understand if this song choice is being used to send a message.”

Groaning, you use your heel to spin the stool around so that you’re fully facing Lady. 

“Fine. Alright, yes. We got into a little itty bitty tiny disagreement and I was coming by to check on him.”

She stares down at you flatly, picking up her drink and taking a sip while you look around the bar wondering when he will notice you arrived. There’s no way he hasn’t at the very least smelled you, astute as his nose is. The brunette laughs, unable to hold it back any longer. There are a lot of ways to avoid admitting when you were wrong and she thought she’d heard them all from Dante but it appears that you have a few to teach her. 

It’s even more oddly pathetic to watch you wait for him to notice that you’ve arrived. It seems you’re only bold when you aren’t put in time out. 

“Well, well, well look what the cat dragged in.”

Fortunately for you, he noticed. Both you and Lady turn toward him, his hands buried in his pockets while he approaches with a frown.

“Hi.” Your reply is soft; barely a sound at all. 

There’s a smile on your face but your eyes are intentionally sheepishly trained at the ground. If there were any doubt left in Lady’s mind that you were very much in the wrong, it disappears. The instant change in demeanor gives you away. 

It’s not her pleasure to leave or anything but she’s more than happy to walk away, sliding off of the stool and slipping between the two of you to escape just like she has a thousand times before. 

“Even if you are mad at her, that wasn’t very nice.” She whispers from the side of her mouth and elbows Dante in the ribs on her way by, headed to the other end of the bar to give the two of you some privacy and get a refill for herself and the man of the hour.

Now that her stool is vacant, Dante takes her place happily and leans forward so that he’s almost eye level with you.

“I’m not mad at you.”

It doesn’t matter if he actually is or not, you know what you have to do. 

Swallowing thickly, you keep your eyes parked toward your hands and only occasionally steal glances up through your lashes. You’re buying yourself amnesty, you hope, and his blue eyes don’t seem as hard as they were a few days ago when they finally meet yours.

“You were right. I don’t take my safety seriously enough.”

A smirk comes across his handsome face. If you were less remorseful right now, eaten up with guilt and concern that your pushing may have been too far this time, you’d reach up and pinch his cheek to dissuade him from being arrogant. 

Honestly, he sort of deserves to gloat right now. It isn’t common that he is the one getting the apology. 

You’re the perfect one, he’s the fuck up, it’s the way it has always been. Of course you’d hate it if you knew he felt that way so that sad little tidbit stays locked up and hidden inside him, a knife he turns inward every time the two of you are apart. This little tiff has been eating him up since three evenings ago. You commanded him to leave, tearfully mumbling that he’d made you feel like he doesn’t believe in you.

He has definitely been hurting. Aching, even. Tossing and turning and wondering when you’d realize that he believes in you more than anything and that’s why he is so preoccupied with your safety. There may come a time when he won’t be able to be the shield between you and anyone who would hurt you, a horrifying reality. 

So getting you to admit he was right? A victory has never tasted so sweet.

A satisfied sigh leaves him and he tilts his head to the side, pristine white strands of hair falling over his eyes. 

“Say that again?”

Biting your lower lip, you attempt to hide the smile that is blooming before his very eyes.

“Which part?”

He smiles back at you, leaning in closer and pressing the tip of his nose against yours.

“You know which part.”

Inhaling deeply, you keep your eyes trained on his and reach for both of his hands. 

You don’t lock your fingers together as you usually do, choosing instead to hold just his fingertips between your own. It gives him a way to get out of it if he doesn’t want you touching him although you have a feeling he isn’t even close to as mad as he’s pretending to be. There’s something far more simplistic to this touch than many others you’ve shared - almost chaste, this is your confessional. 

“You were right, Dante.” 

He folds your hands up in his and messily weaves your fingers together. You smile, wrinkling your nose just the way he likes.

“I was upset and you know I’m headstrong and opinionated and...” you trail off and shake your head. “Sorry. I’m really sorry for getting so angry at you for only trying to care about me.”

“Listen to me. It’s not that I don’t believe in you it’s that your magic is —”

Smiling sadly, you butt in. “Questionable, just like the rest of me. I know.”

“No. No.” He cups your face between big palms, thumbs smoothing over the apples of your cheeks. “It’s a work in progress. You have me, you have all those books, you will figure it all out. Until then, pay better attention. I’m tired of seeing you getting followed home.”

The fight happened because one, Dante was following you - something you’ve asked him several times not to do. It’s not that you don’t want him around but you’d rather walk by his side, hand in hand and swinging your hands between you. And two, you were indeed followed home and had no idea anyone was behind you.

The downside of working in the dark arts is that you can sometimes attract some shady attention. Dante knows this, Lady and Trish know this, everyone seems to have figured out and accepted it besides you - the bookworm who is always in her own little world. He confronted you, you reacted poorly and took it as an insult, and the rest is several lonely evenings worth of history.

Someday you’ll be able to defend yourself. You'll know the spells you need to know and the natural instincts will make your fingertips twitch and sparkle with magic on demand instead of at unpredictable intervals. Until that day comes, you just have to be aware. 

You’re working on it, you swear.

Daring to let your smile grow a little bigger, you soften your gaze up through your lashes.

“So you aren’t mad?”

You know you’re off the hook when he softens completely, rubbing the tip of his nose against yours. 

“A little temperamental for a couple days but no, not mad.”

His warm breath fans over your face, a feeling you missed more than you are ready to admit aloud. You giggle, scooting to the edge of your seat, sticking your legs between his and resting your feet against the base of his stool. Big hands naturally find your waist, sliding down to settle on your hips.

Satisfied with how close the two of you now are, you settle and shoot him with that pinched brow look of pity. “Then what was the deal with that song?”

Dante scoffs, squeezing your hips.

“You know me - I’m a romantic, sunshine. Felt a little lost without my girl and wanted to get it off my chest.”

Snorting, you finally reach up and pinch his cheek between your index finger and thumb.

“You’re ridiculous.”

Raising a brow in response, he presses his forehead to yours and smirks.

“Yet you keep coming back.”

“Oh my god, will you two get on with this already?” Lady spits, glaring at you two out of the corner of her eye upon her return to the bar, drinks in hand. “It’s making me sick to watch.”

If your friend was attempting to hide her exaggeration, she’s doing a poor job. A smirk tugs at the corner of her lips, arms folded over her chest. Stealing the briefest glance in her direction, you smile back before leaning toward Dante and accepting his forgiveness in the form of a whiskey flavored tongue and the only lips you wanna hang upon ever again.

[sinning-23]

Publicity Pt.2

Heyyy so we go tone part down uhhh things are a bit awkward and weird at the moment between reader and 2d BUT maybe that'll change (for better or worse) when they start rehearsing for the collab int he studio idk

Uhhh Worcount: fucking i have no clue yall

Warnings: partial nudity? smoking, language, tension with 2D, fighting words with Murdoc

Enjoy!

Link To Publicity Introduction

Link to Publicity Pt.1

Link to Publicity Pt.3

The bang at your door makes you shoot up, a gasp tearing past your lips. You stumble up swinging the door open just to come face to face with the green bassist with an equally irritated expression. But then it’s not so angry when his eyes trail down. In fact, he grins and licks his teeth, the action making you cringe.

“Quite the set of pajamas eh darling?” He teases, leaning against your door frame as you clench the handle.

-The night prior-

The anger quickly dissipated and turned to embarrassment as you grip the 2 sizes too small night robe. Last night, you’d come in your room and hoped to see your luggage but there was none… all that was in the closet beside the bed was one itty bitty, silk robe. You felt your eye twitch at the red fabric, its shine taunting you.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me.” You scoff, palms sweating at the thought of asking someone upstairs so pathetically for a pyjama substitute.

Opening your door with a slow, creeeeeeak, you descend up the stairs, seeing most of the lights beneath the doors off. There’s an eerie silence in the hall as his room illuminates a tiny portion of the end of the hall.

Fuck, he already seemed fed up with you so why would he give you pyjamas? He basically broke your nose so he owed you (da fuq). Well…

Maybe he didn’t cause he did catch you snooping in his room. No no but then he slammed the door in your face! He was being a total stranger?! After you panic over a nosebleed and getting someone else’s blood on your hands, you’d think you’ve bonded a bit!

You take a breath, knuckle tapping the door and awaiting an answer.

“Yeah?”

His voice is thick with exhaustion, the accent a bit faint, tone deeper than you were expecting. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t go straight to your core and you curse yourself for it.

What if he was about to go to bed and you jsut interrupted it?! Couldn’t be cause you heard some cute little instrument playing from the other side. Too caught up in your thoughts, the door opening catches you by surprise.

The sight on the other side was the REAL shocker though. 2D was attractive that was just a fact. Total rock band, lead singer, emo, heart throb. Looks like your type hadn’t changed much since highschool-

That’s besides the point. He looks fucking delicious right now and it’s throwing you off. Your eyes start from top to bottom. First, slightly messy blue hair his fingertips are toying with.

One strand is falling perfectly right between a pair of heavy lidded obsidian eyes. Moving down you note how his lips are slightly chapped and also how your glossed lips would fixed that right on up.

His neck is slightly flexed, a small swallow makes his adams apple bob and another filthy scenario crosses your mind in a flash. Collarbones prominent, his chest rises and falls gently into quickening the longer you stare.

Ah so the blue was actually natural. You’d always wondered about that.

He’s got the faint indentsrion of abs but not much. His waist is small, flexed a bit with his current position against the boot frame. His jeans are hanging low on his hips, waistband of his brief jsut peaking over the top.

Then, there's the faint happy trail and your mouth waters. Just below that, his jeans zipper, which seemed to be more prominent than before-

Oh shit-

The sudden realization makes you snap out of it, a gasp caught in your throat

"Ahhh I just- yep, sorry goodnight!" The statement comes out so fast and you leave down the hallway even faster.

You heart is thumping in your ears and by the time you reach your guest room you shut the door with a quickness, thinking that by some miracle he was trailing after you. He wasn't but still. You try to shake the image of him away, its no use though.

Pulling the robe from the closet, you eyeball it for any unusual stains before sighing and tugging it on. Sleep didn't come easy that night.

-Currently-

“What do you want it’s 7am!” You spit, pointing a finger in his face just between his eyes and you narrow your own.

He only grins, snatching your wrist in his hand as you yelp, going to tug it away but failing.

"Ah, word of advice, ask before you decide to take my clothes? And get dressed," He begins, taking pleasure in the look of disgust on your face after realizing that this itty bitty silk sobe was his. "We're fixin' to make somethin' brilliant up in the studio and we need your vocals. Chop chop cupcake!" He grumbles, releasing you before turning on a heeled boot to the stairs.

You tear the robe off with a quickness, wishing for nothing more than a bath. With a heavy sigh, you search your small carry-on for any extra clothes.

Luckily you were able to come up with the sweater you packed and an extra pair of panties(how wise of you). The same shorts from yesterday would have to do. Now that he mentioned it, you coukd hear the faint sound of drums, a guitar and-

...

Your legs move almost independently as you jog up the stairs, missing one in the rush and falling. After steadying yourself you open the door gently, the sounds of music filling your ears and chest and you don't fight the smile that rises to your lips.

His voice is what carries you to the booth. There he is, face leaning int the mic, headphone half on half off, eyes half-lidded and hazy when he sings. It feel and sounds almost artificial..but so damn pretty.

Music had been something that came so easily to you. every instrument, concept, sound...felt so easy. When you dad...

It stopped so suddenly and no matter what you tried, it just didn't feel right. Like they keys of pianos stuc to your fingers and left and uncomfortable feeling.

Every mic you approach screeched like tire tracks and the strings on guitars snapped under your touch. It was like he was taunting you from...well maybe not heaven. To see them play so effortlessly and harmonious...made you a little jealous.

Despite it all, you can’t help but to catch the beat and rock your hip just a pinch. And your mouth opened, the sound just as angelic as the last time you'd sung in that arena full of people 5 years ago. The notes hanging off your lips like milk and honey. Hot and sugary sweet.

You were more or less just adding on vocal adlibs to whatever 2D sung, like a little echo down a tunnel. Alluring and melodic.

"Stop tha' noise, STOP ITTT!" Murdoc hollers, eyes narrow and grimacing at 2D in the booth.

"Bit picthy oh that last bit eh faceache? Y/n, why don' you step in an' help 'im?" Murdoc commands, your eyes meeting with pitch black.

Moving from your spot on the wall, you walk past Russel and Noodle. giving them a slight wave before entering the booth. You place the headset on, taking the same half-off half-on position as 2D, and give him a soft smile which he returns.

"Mornin." He states plainly, moving over a bit so you could both share the mic.

"Hi, bear with me I haven't sung in a long time..." You admit, tugging your hoodie strings, only to have him push your hand down so gently and feather soft.

"I do remember tellin' you that you was talented, didn' I?" He speaks, genuinely trying to calm your nerves but only making them worse.

From outside the glass, Noodle gives you a thumbs up and the band starts up again, a glorious combination of drums, guitar, and bass. You observe the lyrics written in front of you, trying to catch the beat again and follow 2D's lead. Background vocals and harmonization. Thats it.

When he starts, you lean in on the opposite side of the mic, letting your voice work with his. Your eyes are focused on the page before you and each adlip feels out of place. Shit...this was what you were scared of. This had happened very time you tried to do this shit. When the recording got serious and you were finally in front of a mic you'd choke.

You’re starting to sweat, feeling like veryone is watching you, waiting for you to fuck up more. The walls of the booth feel like they're closing in and you step away from the mic, looking frantically around for an exit.

Its embarrassing, having a fucking panic attack just because you couldn’t bring yourself to sing. Was this even a good idea? Had you just wasted these guys time?

You are wasting their time. Typical

The booth is spinning now, and your hands fall to your knees to steady the dizziness filling your head.

A waste of time and talent. What would your dad say?

Your head shoots up, manic as you look at the figure in front of you, faceless and degrading.

"The fuck?" You huff out, blinking wildly, stumbling back.

"Whoa hey, are you okay? Y/n?"

"Get her water, what happened?"

"She just started freakin out! Something about her dad?"

"Oh grea', I told you this was a bad idea! But fuck what I hav' to say huh?"

You focus in in the person holding your shoulders. Theyre a tiny bit shorter but they’re grounding you. Your eyes focus a sure enough Noodle had a look fo concern written all over her face. You’re no longer in the booth, but sitting just outside of it on the plush beanbag chair in the corner.

Your face is hot with embarassment as you tug at your sweater strings.

"Fuck, fuck I-I'm sorry. I don't....I haven't-" You can't seem to find the words and everything you want to explain feels like an excuse.

"I'm wasting your time, I'm so sorry." You sigh, Murdoc grumbling a faint, "Well you got one thing righ'" Before Russel smacks his lips at him and nudges his shoulder.

2D passes you a water bottle, your fingertips brushing in the process.

"Righ' then! How about we just focus on instrumental now! Vocals can' get it together, how bout you two step out?" Murdoc insists, irritation written over his face, his hands planted firm on his hips.

Cautiously standing, you nod and make a swift exit, your yes welling up.

This was so stupid. One song you couldn't do ONE song?! You pad down the stairs, walking out the front door to catch one big gulp of fresh LA air. Gripping a handful of your hair you growl, beyond frustrated.

What the hell were you looking for here? Being back home and working on this was supposed to be fun and healing and it was only making you anxious and itcy. No luggage, No melody, not fucking anything!

"Everythin' alrigh' miss?"

Great.

You push your palms over your eyes and brush away tears that threatened to fall before facing the owl. Damn it he's adorable! He's got his eyes focused on you, mouth slightly agape and showing the gap. Hanging from those parted lips was an unlit cigarette and his hands are shoved nervously into his pockets.

"Peachy." You respond, plopping down onto the stairs leading to the front door.

He follows suit, leaving some space between the two of you before lighting the cancer stick.

"I’m not very good with words but...don’t seem peachy to me?" He jokes, seeing you brighten up a bit at it.

"I’m just embrassed. I should be able to o this but...I'm wasting you guys time. I need to get it together." You ramble before he offers the cigarette to you.

The smell is comforting almost and maybe you would be be wrong to want a hit after being up under stress just now.

Ypu take it, fingers brushing again before you inhale, handing it back just as quickly as you'd taken it. Nicotine wasn't you best friend, but you could appreciate the buzz in moments like this.

"If you’d like, we could just practice vocals later, Trus' me its less pressure when Mudz isn' there." 2D admits, eyes narrowing at the mans name.

"You two don’t get allong well?" You ask, taking the cigarette again when he hands it back to you.

Sharing is caring you suppose, and you don't mind the indirect kiss either. He looks a little irritated now, shaking his head before taking the cig again.

"Not always. We're all family here, you only fin' somethin' like this once. He's not as bad as he used to be I guess?" Its almost like he’s debating that statement as it comes out.

You don’t know what possessed you to say this but it comes out anyway.

"Faceache is quite the ‘nickname’. Some peole change but not quite enough hm?"

"Dunno why he hasn't dropped tha'. His mug looks a hell of a whole lot worse than mine." 2D grumbles, and you can’t help the laugh that comes out your mouth.

He smiles too, joining your laughter, watching you all the while. Your smile, that beautiful sound of giggles as you try to fight of the next wave of joy.

Did you know you looked that cute when you laughed? Happiness looked so good on you. Everythign looked good on you. Maybe one of his shirts? Or his lips...teeth even.

He swallows hard, the laughter dying out as he ashes the cigarette before flicking it into the street. Still early, only 11 now...

"Fancy a day at the beach?" He offers, the request coming out before he can catch it.

There’s that little laugh again, but you’re shaking your head no. His heart sinks.

"Y'know, I'd love to take you up on that offer, but they never brought my luggage to the house." You explain.

He quirks a brow, his head tiling like a puppy and it tugs at your heart.

“Yea it did? Murdoc said he put it in your room for you?”

There’s a pause and your fists clench at your sides as you stand, calm as ever. 2D stands along side you, seeing your balled fist.

“W-Wait wait!”

Swinging the front door open, you tread quickly back up the stairs, everyone else dispersed from the studio.

“Where are you?!” You growl, banging your fist against his bedroom door, 2D now bewildered and panicked.

"Where are my bags you cuck!" You growl again, irritation and embarrassment form earlier coming bak 10 fold and transforming into rage.

That fucker planted that robe on purpose and just to make matters worse oggles and manhalded you like it was nothing. Yeah you'd be sure to fuck his face up more than it already was.

The door opens and you snatch him up by the collar of his stupid turtleneck.

"Where’s my shit?" You scoff, figting the urge to smash your

"Such colorful language. Is tha' any way to ask for somethin'?" He mocks, soon realizing 2D was not to far behind.

"You put 'er up to this? Warmin’ her up jus to shag huh?" He spits, 2D’s face turning a bright shade of red.

“Where’s my SHIT MURDOC!” You yell, brows angled down as you shake him by his shirt.

He only grins, pointing behind him, sure enough two suitcases tucked neatly in the corner. You shove him aside and retrieve your items.

Russel and Noodle had come up to see what the issue was but it had been resolved before it even really started. You pushed your suitcases out and turn to Murdoc, face furious.

“You’re already on thin ice with me. You piss me off again, make me uncomfortable. Touch. My. Shit. And I fuckin walk. We clear, darling?” You hiss, eyes never leaving his as he puts his hands up in defense.

“Crystal.”

You grab both bags and tread down the stairs, body tense from the altercation but at least now you have access to your things. What a weirdo?! Who takes someone luggage like that?!

You shoved the bags inside and sigh.

“Uhh, want help unpacking?” The blue-ette offers.

Help is help, why not take it?

A/N: OUHHH Y/n set her boundaries and bonded with 2D?! Can’t get any better than this right? WRONNG lol lemme know how yall feelin and stay tuned for pt.3 dueces ✌🏾

[mooshymello]

nothing at all

･:･.☽˚｡･✧:･

*Warning for spice and dangerous amounts of domestic g/t fluff ;)*

Word count: 3.5k

It wasn’t fair. The universe must have been feeling especially cruel when it decided to drop Ezran into Tova’s life, because there was no way anyone should have this much power over her. 

And yet here she was, absolutely bowled over by something stupid as him handing her a pen.

Well, she’d give herself credit, it was a little more than the pen. 

It was late. Tova was sitting on the tiny table that folded out from the giant table Ezran sat on, looking over a mess of paperwork for different properties. Nothing could go unaccounted for. After all, this was it, the dream she’d clutched to her chest like a life preserver, the life she’d fought tooth and nail for. This was her flower shop. 

It had to be perfect. Tova wanted it too long for it not to be.

Truthfully, the flower shop was only half of the business. The other half was the magic plants shop. She bought a mirrorstone, an enchanted stone that would create a duplicate of the building she could place in any magic city. Many magic markets had empty lots between buildings, as if someone had cut a slice from the block, ready to be refilled with a new business. All Tova had to do was pay rent for the lot and place the mirrorstone in a doorway of the flower shop, creating a  portal to its magic twin. She had a few lots in Ogendale in mind. 

Everything was going smoothly except for one tiny, itty bitty thing: deciphering property laws was actually fucking impossible. 

So much fine print and conditions…If this were a magic building, she could challenge the owner to a duel and win it, but according to Ezran’s dad, dueling wasn’t “a legal way” to acquire property. 

“How’s it going?” Ezran asked.

“Meh?” She shoved a clump of documents toward him. “We can afford the one by the bowling alley, but who goes by the bowling alley for flowers?” She held up another equally disastrous cluster of pages. “The one on main street would be a great spot, it already has a cooler and everything, but it's pricey. I mean, I could ask my parents for a loan, but-”

“Nope.”

Tova barked out a laugh. “Woah, I didn’t know you liked them so much.”

“I’m sorry, I just don’t like the idea of them controlling any part of your dream. They spent your whole life crushing it.”

“I know. I agree.”

“And I know they changed or whatever, but they’re still so judgy. I can’t ask them for directions without them staring into my soul. Like I’m a bug or something. You know, like-” He squinted and pursed his lips at her.

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about, dear. It’s not like I spent my entire childhood being terrified of The Look”, Tova said, dropping her expression  into a perfect replica of said Look (It was more of an unimpressed glare down the nose than a squint, with the upper lip curled up a little to the left). 

Ezran shivered.  “How do you do that?” 

“TaChauer family magic, baby. Don’t give me a reason to use it on you.” She wiggled her fingers at him, cackling evilly. 

He rolled his eyes, smiling slightly. 

“But okay, no parents. They’re my last last resort, after giving a fae my firstborn. Hm. I wonder if Jamie was serious about that offer..”

“Jamie wants nothing to do with kids, you’d have to pay him to take it. And you are not trading our firstborn.”

“Boo, you’re boring.”

“And you’re crazy.”

Ezran sighed and leaned across the big table, closing 20  feet of distance between them in seconds, to peck her on the forehead. No matter how long they’d been together, her mind always went blank the second he kissed her. Her thoughts just sort of melted when the all-encompassing  warmth of his lips.

He picked up her coffee cup on the way to the kitchen. She marveled at how tiny it was between his fingers. He stood, her heart skipping as he loomed dozens of feet above her, impossibly big and never terrifying, his footfalls shaking through her as he disappeared around the corner. Funny as it was, she forgot he was a giant sometimes, until his tiniest movements gave her that particular thrill. 

The faucet hissed to life. Tova would never understand why he didn’t just use magic to do the dishes. Old habits from his normal life, she supposed. At the sound, her familiar Lil Dacey emerged from under the table, trotting after Ezran into the kitchen. She’d grown to the size of a small dragon, probably because Ez wouldn’t stop feeding her. 

As if to prove Tova’s point, she shoved her snout into the back of his knee, almost knocking him over, and gave him puppy eyes, whimpering pathetically. Ezran reached for the jar of treats on the counter, stopping to meet Tova’s eyes and pout.

“Look at her. She’s starving, Tova.”

Tova eyed the familiar’s pudgy belly and arched a brow. But now both of them were giving her puppy eyes. So Tova huffed and shook her head, but turned the other way as Dacey gobbled up the treat from his fingers. Spoiled little thing. 

She turned back to the table, where the paperwork waited. She chewed on her cheek, tapping her wand on the side of the table while she read. Paper stars started popping from her wand, a tick she’d never been able to shake since graduating, until eventually, the paper stars blanketed the paperwork, making it impossible to see anything. 

Tova groaned, hiding her face in her hands and sliding down onto the table. She could hear her brain grinding in her skull.

“I can’t even read this. I feel like a stupid,” Tova groaned. 

“Maybe you feel like a stupid because it's 3 AM and your brain is mush. You can’t figure stuff out with mush brains.”

Tova puckered her lips, hiding her face behind a papers. 

“Tovanni.”

“Ezran.” She sat up, wagging her pen at him accusingly. “Actually, don’t you have an early shift at the facility tomorrow? You shouldn’t be up either,”

“Yeah, but I have this girlfriend who’s, like, insanely stubborn. And I’d feel like a jerk if I let her stay up alone.” 

Her playfulness deflated into guilt. Sacrificing her sleep wasn’t supposed to come at the cost of his. Working at the creature care facility, as much as he loved it,  tired him out. He really didn’t need to start the day tired. 

Tova made grabby hands at him. Ezran sighed. He turned the sink off and dragged a chair from the other side of the big table, bringing it behind her. He folded his arms around her and gave her a sleepy smile when she kissed his cheek.

“Ten more minutes,” she promised. 

“Mmhm.” He laid his head down. “Ten more minutes. And if you don’t come with me after that, I’ll just have to kidnap you.”

Tova chuckled and leaned back on his cheek while she worked. Ezran would chime in every so often, small tips from watching his dad run the facility, but he didn’t understand the business side too well either. It made her feel better that she wasn’t the only confused one.

Then it happened. 

Tova let herself nod off for a second, lulled by the steady rhythm of his fingers stroking her hair, and her grip loosened on her pen. It landed with a clatter that made both of them flinch awake. 

She rubbed the crust from her eyes. Tova reached down to grab the pen only to realize it had rolled off both her smaller table and the big table, now dozens of feet below. A retrieval spell would do the trick, but Tova’s brain was so foggy she was afraid she’d mess up the spell and turn the floor into pens. Again. 

“Can you get that please?” 

“But you dropped it,” he yawned. 

“Only because you’re too comfortable and I fell asleep. So technically it’s your fault.”

Ezran shook his head but obliged her. He tried reaching for the pen too, but it had rolled under the table, so he got up. Tova didn’t notice how warm he was until he swept all the heat away. 

She hugged her arms and refocused on the papers. Her extra ten minutes hadn’t done much good. Her brain only managed to blurt out a few gibberish notes on a coffee-stained napkin. Tova brushed the paper stars away and started organizing the documents for tomorrow.

In the middle of sorting, one paper slipped out. She absentmindedly slipped it on top of the pile, doing a double take. This one was a picture.�� It was a concept for the flower shop, a very simple square building with vines on the walls, shelves of flowers in front of a glass storefront. Ezran titled it “Tova’s Plants and Things” on the bottom, and Tova had replicated it in the cursive sign hanging above the door. They’d drawn the picture when she first decided to open the shop.

Simple as it was, the drawing was enough to set her imagination alight, like flowers bursting out from between endless black rows of legal text. 

She could see it now. Sandwiched between plain storefronts, a spot of color like a jewel catching rainbows in the sun. Caroline jessamines and blue morning glories climbing the walls, an arch of jasmine at the door-no, white wisteria. 

Ezran would help her set up the trellises, the wood enchanted to prevent the flowers from becoming overgrown, and she’d probably spend the whole day ranting about all her ideas. He wouldn’t tell her to shut up because he never did. He always just nodded and gave her the sweetest look, like she was an angel, like she was the most precious thing in the universe, and sometimes that was enough to make her shut up anyway.

It was the same look he gave her when he returned with her pen, albeit dulled by exhaustion. He didn’t fully stand, staying on his knee and offering it to her. “Are you ready?”

It was such a stupid thing to get worked up about. A pen. 

But it wasn’t the pen. 

It was the fact that she used that pen to draw the concept with him, to draw the climbing vines that were going to be yellow and blue because they reminded her of his favorite scarf. It was the pen that cemented the name “Tova’s Plants and Things” for her shop because he hand-crafted her a sign for their first Christmas together. It was remembering being awake with him at 3AM 100 years ago, whispering about the things they’d do after graduation, when Tova was sure the shop would stay a dream and Ezran was sure he’d come buy her flowers every week, and it was being awake with him again at 3AM, just because he didn’t want her to do it alone.

It was the realization that he’d become so deeply entwined with her life that she could pick any aspect of it and find him there.

So Tova laughed. To herself, because he would never understand how impossible that was to her. This was their flower shop. His, and hers, and theirs. The thought sent warmth surging through her, until she felt like she’d burst into stardust. All she wanted was to wrap him up in that feeling, make him feel as breathless and adored as he made her feel.

Actually, she probably could. Or at least something close to it. 

An idea popped into her head and Tova smirked, plucking the pen from his fingers. She scribbled “hey can I kiss you :)” on the back of the concept drawing. She put it on the big table and slid it toward him with her foot, keeping it far from the edge of the table. 

He squinted at the note(she wrote it extra small so he’d have to get closer)and gave it a bemused smile. “Uh, sure…?”

By then, Tova had already taken the opportunity to take her wand out and run her hand over his. Tova whispered a shrinking spell and tapped her wand on his nose. There was a distortion, the way heat wavers in the air. She felt magic simmer in her blood, seeping through her hand and crackled over Ezran’s skin like static electricity. 

One second, Ezran was peering down at her with wide-eyed confusion, the next, a glittery cloud poofed around them and he was leaning on her human-sized table, swaying unsteadily. Tova slipped her hand into his and waited for him to regain his balance with a giddy smile. 

“What was-” He closed his eyes and swallowed thickly. “What was that?”

“That was you saying I could kiss you.” Tova ran her fingers up his arm and curled them around his face, rolling onto her toes to whisper in his ear. “So I’m kissing you. Is that okay?”

“Okay.” He let out a breathy laugh, melting into her touch. His hands snaked around her waist and he touched his forehead to hers. “Weirdo.”

Tova giggled. She tilted his head down and pressed her lips to his. Her eyes fluttered shut.  His lips were impossibly soft as they captured hers. They tasted sweet and warm, like hot cocoa, because he refused to drink coffee past 3 PM. She was torn between wanting to cherish them or absolutely ruin them.

His hands found their way into her hair, pulling her closer. His touch set fizzling poppers off in her belly, made her blood all sparkly and tingly as it rushed to her face. God, she was addicted to him. The moment he kissed her she couldn’t think straight.

Which was probably why she forgot the shrinking spell left him woozy and made the mistake of leaning into him. He wobbled backwards, futilely trying to regain his balance, but by the time Tova pulled away he was already falling. Seeing as he was tangled in her hair, that meant he took Tova down with him. She broke the kiss off with a yelp, narrowly avoiding smashing their teeth together by ducking her face into his chest as they crashed onto the ground.

Ezran hissed, rubbing the back of his head. “Ow.” 

“Sorry, sorry sorry,” she blurted. 

She recited a quick healing spell and brought her wand to his temples. Their eyes met. Tova was suddenly aware of their position, going red and looking away. So much for being romantic. 

He tried to choke back laughter, followed by Tova giggling into his collarbone, ending with both of them bursting into laughter. They stayed there for a minute, simply enjoying being a mess on the table.

Not one to miss an opportunity, Tova propped herself up on his chest, tracing the scar on his face. “Wow Ez. I can’t believe you’re still falling for me after all these years.”

“You’re gross.”

“You love it.”

He rolled his eyes again, but didn’t disagree. He hugged her close, kissing her forehead and burying his face in her hair. “You’re extra mushy today. What’s up?” 

She turned her face into the crook of his neck. “Nothing. I just missed you.”

“Missed me? I’ve been here the whole time.”

“Exactly, and I haven’t paid any attention to you at all.” 

A devilish smile bloomed across her face. Tova skimmed her hands over his chest and up his arms, linking both his hands in hers. She knew it drove him crazy when they held hands at this size. But she could do one better. In one smooth motion, she shifted her knees to straddle him, positioning herself above him. She hooked her thumb under the scarf on his wrist, taking both his hands and pinning them above his head. 

She trailed a line of slow kisses up the side of his neck. He shivered. Any time he tried to kiss her back, she pushed him back down, teasing her teeth along his delicate skin. She smiled at the little noises he made when she laid gentle kisses on the marks, the way his pulse sped beneath her lips and his hands tightened in hers. Pulling back, she surveyed her work with a satisfied hum. 

Ezran was going to have to actually use his scarf after this. 

“T-Tova?”

She lowered herself so their chests were touching, her hair curtaining his flushed face.  “Don’t you think you deserve a little attention, baby?”

“Um…” His wide eyes flickered to her mouth. He bit his lip and turned his burning face away. “...fuck.” 

Tova puffed a breath through her nose, amused. She ran her thumb along his jawline and made him look at her as she ghosted his lips, tilting her head and parting hers just a bit. Tempting him. With a butterfly’s  touch, she ran her hands down his sides, reveling in the shivers that followed her fingertips, and she snuck the tip of her thumb under his waistband. 

Just to be cruel, she slid her hips down, the heat of him pressing on her inner thigh. The intoxicating heat of his moan bloomed across her lips. 

“Needy, needy, needy~” She laughed, an equally breathless sound. “But stars, I want you so bad.”

She waited. Her heart was thudding in her chest. Her stomach was somersaulting. The only sound between them was heavy, expectant breathing. Right when he started to shift impatiently, inching closer, she reeled back, planting a chaste kiss on his nose. 

“Okay,” she said. 

“Okay?”

Tova let go of his hands and lifted herself up on her knees so she wasn’t touching him. Almost immediately, the air wavered, and glittery clouds burst around them. When she opened her eyes she was kneeling on his stomach, and he was his normal size, splayed on his back across the big table.

He stared at the ceiling, taking a moment to readjust to his new perspective. Once he did, he peered down at her, bewilderment swirling in his eyes. 

“...what?” 

“I said I wanted to kiss you. You have been kissed.” She flopped onto her side and folded her hands under her head. “Bedtime!”

Ezran looked at her like he was waiting for the punchline. She refused to look at him. Tova was fighting to hold back laughter. 

“You asshat,” he said when he realized she wasn’t taking it back. 

The walls of his hands rushed into her peripherals. He scooped her off his stomach, scooting off the table. He turned off the lights and marched towards the bedroom, keeping her close to his chest. She could hear his heart thundering against her back. 

“This is a really aggressive way to go to bed. I thought we were supposed to sleep now,” she said, feigning innocence. 

“We were before you jumped me like that.” 

Ezran gently put her down on the pillow. He set his arms on either side of her, brushing her hair from her face and running his thumb along her jaw. The intensity of his eyes made her stomach flip. 

“You’re crazy if you think I’m letting you get away with that, Tovanni.” 

“Maybe I’m-”

He immediately cut her off with a kiss. She sucked in a breath, her back arching in surprise. He slid a finger behind her, pressing her closer to his lips. She hummed, feeling her whole body turn to mush in his hands. Her hands made a beeline for his face. 

And then he stopped. He pulled his hand away and folded his arms in front of her, watching her pant.

“What was-”

He kissed her again, this time pressing her into the pillow. She was literally breathless. He had her lightheaded, seeing stars. The second Tova reached to hold his face, he cut it off. 

Tova gave him a questioning look. “What are you do-”

Another kiss, his hands cupped behind her and entwined in her hair. She moaned and tried leaning into it only for him to pull his hand back, dropping her back onto the pillow. 

Tova narrowed her eyes at him. She knew what he was doing. Either she stopped being sassy and got no kisses, or kept being sassy and got half a kiss, which was worse because as much as Tova liked teasing, she hated getting teased. This was payback.

The worst thing was that it was working. Tova tried holding out, too. She tried not to think about how perfect his lips were, and how they were right there. Instead, she crossed her arms and stared at him. Right in the eye. Right in his big, beautiful bitter coffee eyes, all softened with affection for her, even though she was a mess, and bright with smug amusement because she could see herself cracking in their reflection. Those eyes.

He leaned forward, his curls tumbling onto her shoulders, lips brushing her reddened face. “Tovaaa~”

No. She refused. Because there was no way she was that fucking clingy. 

Except she absolutely was and he knew it and it absolutely was not fair.  

“Ez,” she finally whined, exasperated. 

He grinned, cupping her in his hands. He peppered her face with kisses, like he was trying to connect a constellation on her freckles, until Tova was breathless and flushed, and both of them were laughing their asses off.

The exhaustion hit them not too long after and they settled down. Tova slid off the pillow, crawling over to his hands. They curled around her, bringing her to his chest.

“Tova?”

Tova hummed, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt.

He curled up, bundling her closer. His voice was thick with sleep, rolling through her like an ocean wave. “I love you.”

Tova doubted he could see the way she looked at him in the dark. Ezran was the first person to ever say he loved her. She’d never told him that. She thought about it every time he said it. It was more pathetic than it sounded, she'd had people who cared, but none who were so open about it. She never doubted it with him.

Maybe that was the part that made her tear up.

She wiped her eyes, smiling into his shirt. “I love you too, dork.”

[midnightfire830]

Smol nonsense questions, if Cuphead does possess Mugman, then his appearance changes to Cuphead when possessed? And does Cuphead have a black out (you know, going all about and insane) in his ghost form? Does he have the urge to possess Mugman when he's in black out? And also, if Cuphead possessed a doll (just some random doll) will it change its appearance to Cuphead? And if cuphead is able to utilize his pranks, then he must be some poltergeist who likes scaring people with his pranks lol (this slightly reminds me of Mayhem, just SLIGHTLY)

These are my little itty-bitty teeny-tiny bits of questions :>

Sweet. I cussing love these kinds of questions.

Mugman’s physical form can’t change because he’s just a dish. Only Cuphead can change is form only when he’s a ghost. So if Cup were to possess Mugman, or a doll, that form would remain unchanged. Like what happened during the Dark Circus with Black Hat. The only thing I could thing of that would change with Mugman physically is maybe his straw would become a bendy straw while he’s possessed. But that’s more of a stylistic choice to better express what’s going on on my end of things.

Cuphead does have blackouts/rampages while he’s in his ghost form. He’s a lot more terrifying then. And a lot harder to contain and fight back. His form would change, he’d cause lights and electricity to go out around them, and bunch of things would start flying around him. Doors and windows will be slamming, books thrown across the room, glass breaking. It’s absolute chaos when he’s a ghost during a rampage. That’s why Mugs tries to keep salt and salt water on him in case that happens. No, cup doesn’t get an urge to possess Mugs. Maybe if he thought it was his only choice then I guess. But in rampage and out, he knows the risks and drawbacks of possession.

Yeah, Cup has poltergeist abilities as a ghost. But it’s a lot harder to interact with objects. He has to really concentrate when he’s trying to move or touch something. Of course Hat did train him to move things a bit easier. But it’s still really hard for him and he can lose his concentration very easily.

Oh my stars. Yes. He did everything he could to scare the crap out of Flug, Hat, Jerry, Bendy, AND Mugs at any chance he got. At some point Mugs, Flug, and Hat got so used to his scares that they hardly react at all to them. Lmaoooo

Thanks for the ask!

[dollsonmain]

I had an idea of how to explain what it's like living in my brain and it kind of made sense.

-

It's like living in a sphere made of bricks. I'm running out of air and scrabbling at the bricks trying to find one that I can push or pull loose.

Now and then I get one out, look through the hole, take a deep breath, and go "Wow... I need to get out of here. I'm not safe here." as though being trapped with no air wasn't evidence enough.

I can see the path to the door (gainful employment, a car, financial independence).

I make a plan to get to the door.

My hand doesn't fit through the hole the brick left behind.

The brick reappears in it's place and I have to try to hold on to that information while scrabbling with the bricks again, trying to wedge one free so I can breathe.

I lose the memory of the door and the path until I wedge another brick free, take a deep breath, and look outside again.

The sphere changes size. Sometimes it's a little bigger and I can care about my son or my home. Sometimes it's big and I can care about the rest of the world. Usually it's only about as big as myself and I can't care about anything other than that I'm running out of air.

-

I was also thinking again about the best way I've been able to explain what it's like to try to get thoughts into words or to even fully form the thought.

That feels like the thought spawns behind a wall at the top of a sieve. I can understand it. I fully, deeply know it.

If I think about it too hard, it tries to move into my fore-mind which requires getting through the wall.

There are tiny, tiny holes in the wall. Most of the thought doesn't make it through.

If I try to put it into words (via text), it has to go through another, similar wall. The same thing happens. Most of it doesn't make it through.

Speech is another wall and by the time I'm trying to talk about something with someone I sound like an idiot because most of the thought is stuck behind layers and layers of walls with the tiniest of holes and I can't even recall most of the basic information that went into forming it.

I know it. I understand it. The more I try to think clearly about or form words to express it, the less I am able to.

The more That Guy wheedles and pushes for the minutiae of the thought and disregards what I think without it, the more frustrated and angry I get. Like the white pepper thing? It didn't matter to him until he had all of the itty bitty details like the exact names of the chemicals involved.

I really appreciate the friends that are able and willing to take the crumbs that do make it through and help me put it into a fully formed, expressible statement.

[wolfvirago-m]

☢ What fads/trends are you so over?

the salty af munday meme [accepting] [x]

;; uh... that's a lil hard. Idk, maybe inaccessible graphics or formatting? I haven't seen it a lot in my circle but I have seen folks who go crazy with tiny text and colors and underlining, plus an itty bitty over-pixelated and crunchy icon. Sure it's pleasing, but it hurts my eyes and just makes me assume the person doesn't actually care about writing- they just like the flowery aesthetics.

♥ What's the WORST thing that has happened to you rp wise?

;; I have a couple stories, but they happened like a couple years ago so I'm over it. I have had someone write their muse outright malicious and abusive despite me raising concerns. I know you're entitled to writing villains, but if someone wants to change the thread to lighten it up a little, maybe don't be passive aggressive back and ghost me?

The other person had a whole thing with venting to me constantly and I expressed a boundary since I was also dealing with stressful college stuff and couldn't also play therapist- esp. since they were talking shit about one of my mutuals who had blocked them. I told the admins of our group I was uncomfortable and anxious over the situation, only to find out that one of the admins had RAGED to our shared friend about how "ableist" I was for setting a boundary just bc the upset person was autistic supposedly. The admin also was saying I was a pervert for sending in nsfw hc asks to their blog? Like? If you don't want my asks you can tell me or just delete them, I would have known that was a boundary and backed off.

Either way, none of these people are my mutuals and I left the server group. All is well. The lesson here, kids, is setting boundaries is healthy even if the other party blows up behind your back about it.

@ama-tcra-su

[watermelonsugacry]

Building Harry's House: Music For A Sushi Restaurant

A/N: a itty bitty baby chapter for you lovies 💚 oh and...TYSM FOR 1500+ FOLLOWERS??

SUMMARY: With the world knowing of their once secret relationship, Harry and YN navigate life together as an official couple and everything that comes with it. (1.5k)

GENRE: 1dbandmember!yn

Previous Song Here! 🧦 // Building Harry's House masterlist // SINCE 2010 masterlist

SIDE-NOTE: italicized is voice over commentary (I wrote this kind of like the Behind the Album documentary) bold are things Harry actually said irl

Harry pulls open the glass door of the small sushi restaurant and steps aside for YN enter in first. 

As the world is still trying to progress through the pandemic, businesses were slowly but surely opening up their doors again. As much as the couple missed interacting with other people and found some comfort in a crowded area to blend into, it was nice to be in a public place again. Plus with the added protection from their masks (both from the virus and privacy from paparazzi) it puts them at ease to think they look a little less recognizable. Especially when they trade in their colorful trousers, cardigans, and jewelry for hoodies and sweatpants. 

So after being escorted to a booth and handed paper menus, they discard their masks and Harry sees his girlfriend’s beautiful smile once again.

YN leans over the table a bit and whispers, “It’s kinda like m’undercover with these on.” She giggles, waving her pink mask between them. “Feel every ninja-like.” 

When she goes to put her mask on the table beside her, her hand accidentally knocks against one of the glass sauce bottles. Harry reaches for it just before it hits the table, no harm was done but it did make a rattling noise that caught the attention of an older couple sitting at a table across from them at the tiny restaurant. 

YN quickly looks away and stares at the wall as she tries to hold back her laughter while Harry gives an apologetic smile to the on-lookers before they go back to their meals.

If he were out with other people, he probably would have decided right then and there to try to quickly but politely make the dinner go a little bit faster since they’ve been spotted, probably text Jeff to give him a ring with a fake excuse to go home.

But how can he even think to leave when she puts her hands beside her face to hide her cheeky smile? A faint blush to her cheeks and her eyes sparkling with amusement? It’s a pleasant change of pace to have the urge to stay at the restaurant for as long as possible rather than flee the scene.

“Excuse me? Can I have more green tea please?”

Right as the waitress nods, her eyes squinting in a smile under her mask and walks away, the couple give each other an amused but confused look when they hear an all too familiar “cou cou!” sound through the speakers of the restaurant. 

“Ah nothing like a depressing song about our past to get me in the mood to eat some raw fish.” YN snickers.

“S’very romantic.” Harry agrees with a playful smile on his lips.

“Just makes me wanna get up and dance. Oh wait, hold up—” YN hovers a hand over her chest, pumping her chest up and down to the beat of the song like she’s about to break dance. Her stanky face crumbles into a smile as she joins Harry as he laughs. 

He really can't believe how far they've come since that song was created. They were both in a place of confusement and horrible communication, both never expressing to each other their true feelings for one another which lead to their inevitable heart break. But as Harry sits across from the woman he loves, he knows that he's the only one who she calls him 'baby,' that he gets to hear her beautiful accent every day—from either phone or person—thanks to the fact that they actually talk with one another about anything and everything. In a way, Cherry still remains a 'pathetic' song of their past but oh what a great reminder it serves in times like these that tells them they are nowhere near where they used to be.

“This is really strange music for a sushi restaurant.” He says through a mouth full of rice. “Wouldn’t that be a cool name for an album though? Music For A Sushi Restaurant.”

YN nods, giggling when she reaches over to thumb away some sauce away from the corners of his lips. “That does sound pretty wicked. But then I feel like you’d be stuck to a certain theme though. Maybe for a song?”

“Yeah. I like that.” Harry nods.

“How do yeh think it’d sound like?” YN asks, mindlessly pushing some leftover rice together with her chopsticks. And that’s yet another thing he loves about her. The way that they both share a keen interest in music, constantly hearing new melodies in their heads before they even get a chance to write down their previous one.

“Mhm, maybe something funky. Like, you could be walkin’ down the street to it.” Harry softly begins to adlib a slow bass line, his hand gently patting against the table to make a beat. YN moves her head along to the beat before she experiments with a line:

“Green eyes, fried rice. I could cook an egg on you. Bum bum, bum bum, coffee on the stove.” 

“Wait, did yeh just call me hot?” Harry playfully gasps before he leans in close and asks in a whisper, “Is this you telling me you fancy me?” He giggles and shields his chest with his arm as she throws her balled up napkin at him.

“I tend to do so much writing in the studio, but with this one, I did a little bit here and then I went home and added a little bit there, and then kind of left it, and then went into the studio to put it all together. That was a theme across the whole album, actually.” Harry explains and a soft smile inches its way onto his lips. “This record was recorded in a couple different places in different parts of the world. One of my personal favorite places that we made a song was at YN’s home studio in LA.”

It's 'cause I love you, babe

In every kind of way

Just a little taste

You know I love you, babe

"Dunno. M'kinda stuck on what rhythm I should do for that." Harry says from behind the glass window, putting his hands on his hips.

The production team has been over at YN’s LA home for a couple of hours now and they all migrated towards her guest house that she converted into a home studio. The place was spacious enough for a little recording room in front of the huge console panel, racks of guitars and a seating area. Along with some other fun decor, the walls were covered in various silver, gold, and platinum framed record plaques of either her own records for other artists’ songs she worked on.

YN pouts in contemplation. One thing that she loves about this team, about the atmosphere Harry created for everyone, is that she feels comfortable enough to throw out ideas for songs and everything it entails without judgment. Add her confident, strong headed personality to the mix and she doesn't feel a bit bashful when she says, "You can make it sound like an orgasm?"

All the men in the room, including their videographer Mike, raise their eyebrows at the unexpected suggestion. It certainly isn't the craziest suggestion they've ever heard, tried, and kept, but it does still catch them all by surprise. 

Harry loves that she's able to throw in fresh ideas and on various occasions, keeping everyone on their toes.

"So like scale it upwards, yeah?" Harry adds, throwing her a nod through the glass window.

"And make ‘em a bit whiny at the ends? Oh, and gimme one of yeh scream-growl thingies.” She gives him a thumbs up before playing the track again. When she leans back in her chair, she does a double take at the group still staring at her. "Whot?"

“This song is right up my alley: the harmonies, the funky bass and guitars, the horns—ugh!” YN throws her head back with a slap to the armrest of her interview chair. “He has a little Pentatonix moment in this song, too—who am I kidding? He has many, which I am absolutely livin’ for."

If the stars were edible

And our hearts were never full

Could we live with just a taste?

Just a taste

"Give us somethin' sexy, Mitch." YN says into the recording booth speaker before spinning herself around in her swiveling studio chair. The production team has been on a roll with the making of the song for the past three days, everyone coming into her home studio with an eagerness to create something fun.

Mitch just shakes his head with a barely there smile before he hears Harry’s interlude again. His fingers quickly press on the wired strings to create the guitar melody YN came up with earlier. Everyone waits in anticipation to hear what he’s going to bring to the table and like always, he never disappoints. 

With very little body movement, Mitch moves his hand down the neck of his guitar, the new riff lowering in scale and it has everyone’s jaws on the floor. Harry has his hands frozen in his hair in disbelief while YN literally gets up out of her chair and pretends to leave the room.

“I think that since we kinda made it very causal-like, just staying at me house for a couple of days, it made the production process really fun.” YN beams at the camera. “I fookin’ love this song, mate, I can't get over it. Like how can you just sit down and listen to this song?”

Then there’s a video compilation moment of the production team through the making of the song: 

YN in the recording booth sliding her hand up and down her bass guitar as she grooves to the music through her big studio headphones. 

A clip of Mitch sitting on the velvet couch in YN’s studio with her standing on the cushion next to him as she dramatically plays the air guitar to his solo. 

Another clip of Kid, YN, and Tyler working at the huge console panel all the while Harry dances behind them. He bounces from foot to foot, his hands moving close to his chest with his palms facing outwards.

“After Fine Line, I had an idea of how I thought the next album would open. But there’s something about ‘Sushi’ that felt like, ‘Nah, that’s how I want to start.’" Harry chuckles, sliding his fingers down the corners of his mouth as he smiles."It becomes really obvious what the first song should be based on what you play for people when they’re like, ‘Oh, can I hear a bit of the music?’ It’s like, how do you want to set the tone?”

Next Song Here! 🍷

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[teenandbeyond]

I just had an idea. Senku x fem reader where they play strip poker together and it ends in smut 👀

Senku x Fem. Reader

I actually had this idea forever ago and forgot about it, you made me want to dig it up. Edit: Gender isn't really specified, so anyone could read.

Want more from me? Master List 2

☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆

🧪Strip Tease🧪 (Dr. Stone)

Warning(s): Old Writing(didn't edit, idk what this is), never played poker ever, Smut, idk really, childhood friends till adulthood changed things

When you practice strip poker with Senku...it turns into you practicing other things...

✨✨✨✨

“Did you really need me to practice with you?” Senku grumbled from his seat.

“Well, I needed someone who wouldn’t care. I could’ve asked Taiju, but he likes Yuzuriha so I’m not even gonna bother him with that. That left you.”

“Don’t you have those other lame friends?”

You muttered a reply as you got out the cards to shuffle them, “Exactly, lame. They pretend when it’s convenient. Since I’m playing with them tomorrow anyway, I might as well learn how beforehand-- Besides, they’re either desperate to see me naked or would be too embarrassed, I’d probably leave early.”

“I don’t see the problem with it. It’s just being naked.”

Your eyes finally flickered up to him, “Exactly why I picked you—What’re you risking first?”

“You know the rules?”

“Mhm. Choose.”

“Watch.”

You dealt five cards for each of you, “I pick my jacket. Winner doesn’t have to remove anything.”

You kept your five cards, while Senku decided to exchange two from his hand.

“You sure you don’t want to exchange any cards?” he smirked.

“I got a pretty good deal, so I’m good.”

“Alright then, hit me.”

With a victrious grin you smack down your hand, “Flush. Beat that!”

His smirk didn’t drop as he carelessly tossed his hand onto the table, “Four of a Kind.”

“Wha—”

“Don’t you have a jacket to get rid of, [Name]?”

You sighed, slowly taking it off, “Yeah, yeah. All right, let’s try this again…”

You dealt the next hand, Senku simply exchanged one card.

Feeling betrayed from last time, you decided to exchange two cards.

“I doubt you’re going to win this time, so I’ll bet my shirt,” Senku held his poker face.

But unfortunately for him, you had a very good hand.

“I’ll bet my shirt, too. Go for it, Senku.”

“Three of a Kind.”

A chuckle bubbled from you, “Straight.”

He sighed, dejected and began to unbutton his shirt.

You found yourself watching in anticipation as the last button was undone, swallowing as it rolled off his shoulders and to back of his seat.

He was actually much more defined than you anticipated, considering he seemed like a weakling most of the time.

“...[Name].”

You must have zoned out, “I—Uh—Huh?”

He raised a brow, “Are you dealing, or what?”

“Oh…Oh! Right…”

You did your best to avoid looking, so you wouldn’t find yourself staring again.

“I'll bet my watch,” Senku leaned back to watch you.

You tried to not notice the way he unconsciously spread his legs, fortunately the table blocked most of the view.

“My shirt again,” you informed.

After dealing, you showed your hands again.

He’d won this round.

Now that it was reality, you were a little flustered at the idea of being half naked in front of him.

Mainly due to the little, itty-bitty, tiny, minuscule crush you had on him.

That was actually far from any of those things.

Then you reminded yourself, Senku doesn’t think anything of it.

He wouldn’t be attracted, so it didn’t matter, right?

You took a deep breath as your played with the hem of your shirt, before tugging it over your head.

It was a shame you missed his expression while your vision was obstructed.

“…Looks like you’re losing.”

You scoffed, “Please, we just started. You may be a science wiz, but games are my territory.”

“Watch.”

“Pants.”

You had a great hand, so great there was no way Senku had the only hand that could beat it.

“You’re done for, Senku!”

“Straight Flush? Not bad.”

Your brows furrowed, “Why don’t you seem worried?”

A cackle passed his lips, which made your eyes go wide.

“There’s no way!”

He tossed his hand onto the table top, a dark smirk taking over his expression, “What was that about games being your territory, [Name]? Because I just won this, Ten Billion percent.”

A Royal Flush.

Your body warmed in embarrassment as your eyes flickered down to your pants.

You’d have to take them off in front of Senku.

“Rules are rules…”

You dragged the pants down your legs and tossed them to the side where your shirt laid.

Now you felt a little embarrassed for your underwear choices, since it was only you who saw what you wore, you tended to wear really cute sets.

But when your gaze trailed from your thighs to the man in front of you…you were caught by his stare.

Why was it so intense?

Why was is so quiet?

Why couldn’t you... look away?

And why…why was it affecting your body?

“[Name].”

The sudden deepening of his voice sent a jolt through you.

“Yes?”

“You know, considering I got the best hand anyone could possibly get���don’t you think it qualifies for the rest of your clothing, too?”

“Uh—Huh? But I’d be n-naked…”

“Isn’t that the point?—What happened to not caring?”

Well, it’s hard not to care when he’s looking at you like that.

“I—well…”

“[Name]…are you nervous?” he teased.

You decided to hide your face, and hide your top half using the table considering the view he had wasn’t great under it.

But he simply just pushed the table to the side, the dragging of the table legs morbidly dramatic to you.

“What’re you hiding for? It’s not a big deal.”

In replacement, you placed your feet in the chair, using your legs to hide a little.

But that only made things worse, his gaze dragged lower and lower before they focused in between your legs.

His expression was one of amusement, while yours was more timid…now he knew everything.

He leaned back in his chair far too casually again, legs yet again spreading unconsciously.

Or perhaps it was intentional this time, you didn’t know.

He leaned his head on his knuckles, silver watch shining due to the light above.

“I haven’t touched you yet and you already gave me a visible reaction.”

Your body warmed more, but most of it was more focused in one area.

“Yet…?”

“I must admit, I came with pure intentions, but I don’t think I’m leaving the same way I came.”

Gloved hands teased you everywhere they went.

“You’re like a little science experiment,” he chuckled.

You were completely breathless, “Sen—kah!”

“I had a few hypotheses to test. They seem to be going well so far.”

The black gloves touched every inch of skin he could as you sat on his spread legs.

The contrast of his black slacks and latex gloves gave you butterflies.

“Why did you have to be a scientist?” you groaned.

He knew all the right places, curse those books, curse the internet.

Then his fingers, finally, finally touched you where you wanted.

He rubbed against the damp cloth, “We should take these off, hm?”

You swore his voice right in your ear was affecting you in an entirely different way.

“We should.”

A gasp, as he tears away a glove to please you with bare skin.

Eyes rolling back as he’s pounding you into the table a few minutes later.

A whimper as his gloved hand explores your back and trails to your behind.

Your voice cracks, as you cheek rubs against the surface, the last card clinging to the table finally fluttering to the floor.

“Been wanting to do this so long,” was all he could grit out, “You’ve got me thinking all irrationally for you…”

Muttering praises in between his thrusts, mumbling how you’re such a good test subject.

And, oh, how beautiful you were, how cute, which tempted him to turn you around and kiss you.

It was so intense, so careful, and there seemed to possibly even be love there.

“Senku…”

“You’re not playing this game with them tomorrow. Not that’d you’d be able to walk anywhere far tomorrow, anyway…”

[willowser]

like. he fits so perfectly into the role of a god. not like a minor one, but like. all-powerful, allows the passage of time and controls the stars, rules in his own realm. domain, if you will.

and then there is little you. a gentle devout thing. itty-bitty, in comparison to him—both physically and spiritually. and you are somehow hand-picked to visit him, by the grace of god (literally), and being welcomed into his kingdom is so, so special.

you're so nervous about upsetting him, though the higher priests in his temple seem...unimpressed ?? they never say anything outright about him, but as they dress you in the appropriate clothes and fasten you in jewelery that is all the same shade of icy-blue, you hear them muttering little things about his...silliness. his frivolity and how eccentric he is.

and—he's so friendly, for how extravagant he is. welcomes you into his domain like you are the precious one, seats you right beside him at his table and offers you delicacies you never could have dreamed of eating. shows you parts of the world you never would have seen otherwise. fits you in even more jewels and drapes you in silk.

you don't know how long you're there: time passes differently and the sun never sets, but days must go by ?? the strongest grows a bit affectionate, to your great surprise, not that you mind when he places a large hand on your lower back or when he twirls your hair in his long fingers.

asks you to stop with the formalities, to call him satoru, as well as drops your name in favor of sweetheart and dear and love. invites you to bathe with him, even, and you can't say no to him, can you ?? deny him the simple pleasure of washing your hair or spreading soap across your back ??

and when you feel a bit frayed by the constant golden hour and weary from all the festivities, you...try to bid him goodbye, but—his face smooths over in a way you've never seen. goes a bit rigid, though his pleasant smile never falters.

"who said you have to leave?" he asks, voice heavenly and sweet and playful, as he gently pets at your shoulder with a wide hand.

"well," you murmur, "i'm...a human. i can't stay here forever."

he shifts his eyes over your form, and they're so blue that they feel cold. a tiny chuckle comes from his throat before he asks, "are you worshipping others aside from me?"

"oh, no," you turn into him quickly, pressing your hands together as something heavy sinks into your stomach. you think it might be your heart. "no, satoru, of course i'm—"

"then whose laws do you follow?"

you don't realize that by moving closer to him, you've unintentionally pushed his arm up, and therefore his hand; it trails softly from your shoulder up the slope of your neck. the flat of his palm rests over your spine, fingers gently gripping the sides of your throat.

his expression has changed but you can't tell how. he's still smiling, brightly, but something about his face feels like a mask made of marble, reminiscent of the statues made in his image in the temple.

you swallow thickly before answering. "...yours, of course."

"yeah, there you go," he laughs again, leaning close enough that his forehead rests against your temple. "now...who said you could leave?"

and with his eyes fixed on your expression, so intent that he'd notice even a twitch of your mouth and widen of your eyes—you realize it was never an option.

oh no gojo brain worm

[willowwhispersspeakeasy]

Hello! This is my first time requesting so I hope I do it right!

If your requests are open, can I please request for the Demon Brothers and Diavolo with a chubby human s/o? Thank you!

If your requests are closed please ignore this!

Please don’t forget to take care of your health and have a good rest!

normally I would probably skip this since this kinda stuff isn't my expertise and I overall don't think the LIs would change any of their behavior w/ you regardless of your size. but, you’re very sweet so I'll make an exception 

OM! demons with a “chubby” MC

warnings: gender neutral reader, use of the word “fat”, a little suggestive 

Lucifer

hes not oblivious like Mammon but he sees this fact as irrelevant. 

will only consider it anything of note if you do

if you are happy in your body its never going to be something he comments on beyond his overall praises he’ll shower you in

if you are insecure or even hateful he will be very displeased

your body is something to take pride in, a tool to use at your disposal, and you are letting the ideas of a one society dictate your relationship with it

Lucifer loves your body, as it is the place your mind resides. he loves you, every part of you, and it upsets him if you do not love yourself

Mammon

honestly doesn't notice. hes a demon, he has no concept of “fat” in the way humans do. it holds no negative connotations in the devildom. 

he’ll only take note if you seem bothered by it. 

he likes your squishy tummy, probably likes laying on it while cuddling. 

if you express a desire to loose weight he’ll be happy to hit the gym with you

mostly to show off. Mammon isn't very big (in hight or weight) for a demon but he takes pride in the aesthetic of his build. 

that's all he wants for you really, to be pleased with your body and find it as aesthetically pleasing as he likes his

Leviathan

listen hes 100% a thigh man and would love to be crushed under you but that's beside the point

Levi might let a comment about your size slip, he doesn't realize that its touchy or might even be rude in the human world

he will apologize and feel horrible once he understands

hes probably the most sympathetic actually. 

Levi hates himself, always comparing his body or his abilities to his brothers and others in his life. 

hes rotted with insecurities and self loathing, and hearing he touched on one for you will remind him just how much he hates himself 

Satan

Satan also doesn't consider this any fact of note unless you do. 

your body is tiny and weak to him, regardless of your size. 

your mind is your weapon in the devildom, and how physically big you are won’t offer you any advantages or disadvantages here

he also quite likes how squishy you are. its nice. soft, warm, if you’re ticklish even better. 

kneeds on you like a cat probably

he’ll be Upsetti Spaghetti if he finds out you were bullied about it in the human world

Asmodeus

Asmo is the fucking avatar of lust you think he d o e s n t find you sexy as fuck???

w r o n g

he l o v e s you and your chubbiness. you are so nice to hold in his arms, skin so warm, the squish around your middle when he hugs you makes his heart melt and his dick hard

another demon to sign up for the Crushed By MC’s Thighs club

like Satan he sees your body as pretty and delicate regardless since you are a human

and you being chubby or bigger just gives him more skin to cover in love bites

Beelzebub

“what does “chubby” mean?”

clueless baby

oh you’re just talking about the extra fat around your middle?? he calls that a pillow

Beel adores your larger frame. a lot of humans are itty bitty to him but you fit so nicely in his lap or his arms. 

Beel might be the only brother with a slight preference for a bigger S/O

to him it just shows that you like food like he does!

Belphagor

yeah so you’re bigger then some other humans? and Beel is bigger then most demons. how is this relevant?

doesn't care

squish means pillow and whoo boy this mans ready for a nap at all times

thighs, belly, chest, upper arms, you are now his pillow and he is possessive so good luck with that

will scoff at you if you mention being insecure. to him that's bullshit. 

will complain if you start going to the gym or something bc you should be letting him nap on your chub instead

Diavolo

listen I know he’s supposed to be a big muscles demon but in my brain Dia is a plus size king.

hes got plenty of squish of his own

if you mention being insecure about it he will kinda pause and look down, poking at his own chubby belly

hes saddened to hear of the stigmas around chubby and plus sized people in the human world

Dia will encourage you to embrace your body type, and if you desire for a change then he will join you for exercising it you want

he likes his body and maybe being around him will help you feel more comfortable too. 

[danses-with-dogmeat]

GOD the submissive are breedable reacts are incredible lmao

Would you do Benny, Ulysses and Yes Man too? 8)

FONV Extra NPCs React to Being Told They Look "Submissive and Breedable"

Alrighty, y'all asked, so you shall receive, here's some more of this hysterical nonsense 😂 I don't know what I'm doing, I just hope it's entertaining. These ones came out a little different for some reason, but I hope you like them!

Also, I'm gonna add these to the FONV post, so that's where you can find them on the Masterlist!

Included Below: Benny, Mr. House, Ulysses, & Yes Man

This prompt with FO4 Companions

This prompt with FONV Companions

Teensy, tiny, itty bitty bit of NSFW below! (but not really)

Benny:

“Woah baby, why don’t we leave the sheet gabbing to me, hm?”

“What, am I making you uncomfortable?” Six’s lip brushed the shell of Benny’s ear as he shifted beneath them, and suddenly he pulled away, looking them in the eye with a cocked brow.

“What?” They sat back, letting their weight settle into the chairman’s lap as he continued regarding them judgmentally. “Look, you spew nonsense day in and day out, least you could do is humor me. You know how many times your gabbing has thrown off the mood for me?”

“I thought you liked my dirty talk, doll.” Benny’s eyebrows furrowed in hurt at Six’s words, as though he hadn’t a clue what they could be talking about.

“Oh, come on. It’s not dirty, Benny! It’s just... Weird.”

His mouth fell open in disbelief and his gaze fell down to regard the bedsheets somberly. In the next moment, the chairman’s lips wilted into a frown and he shifted from underneath them once more, now less inclined just to squirm playfully, and more so to get away.

Six flexed their legs from where they rested on the bed, straddling him, and forcing him to stay between them.

“Wait.” They sighed, “I’m sorry, hon. I just… I wanted to try something new. When you do that, I tend to go with it, right?”

He still didn’t look at them, but after a moment, he gave a small, resigned nod. Six smiled at that, their hands roaming upwards from where they rested upon his bare shoulders, up to settle on either side of his lightly stubbled face.

“And for the record…” They turned his face up and towards them to try and meet his eyes, “Just because it’s weird, it doesn’t mean I don’t like it.”

Finally, he met their gaze.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, baby. You’re platinum.”

Mr. House:

The screen stared blankly back at the grinning courier below, and though it’s expression didn’t change, the disappointment radiating from the glass was palpable.

“Oh, c’mon, Bob. What did you expect me to say at the sight of you?”

“I have to admit, anything but what you just said. Anything at all.”

“Look, I’ve got to hand it to you, you really don’t look a day over 260 years old, honest. It’s just… When I spend so much time with this you, the you in front of me now… It just, I was surprised, is all. You know how I tend to respond when I don’t know what to say.”

Through the speakers, Six heard a sigh as they approached House’s motherboard, leaning against it and running a hand affectionately over the smooth surface, making sure not to press any of the keys below.

“Unfortunately, yes, I do.” They glanced up at the screen, the hum of his voice causing a tremor to run up through them from where they sat upon the board. They never knew quite how it happened, how they’d come to have such affection for someone who may as well be dead. Someone who looked like he did. But they did.

Now what?

How they wished they could have known the Robert House from before the bombs. How glamorous it all would have been. Now though, this is what they had. A warm screen buzzing with what they wished were more than just electricity, his calming voice, or what it had been, his likeness… his shriveled body, a shell of what it once was, and the core processors, towers, and electrical entrails that made up the Robert that they could interact with today. How could they express to him all they felt, all that they wished for the two of them? It was much easier to tease, to joke and prod at the man they wished they could love, rather than dwell on the fact that for them, it would always be a dream, and for House… Well, they couldn’t bear to find out what it would be for him.

Whether he returned their feelings or not, they knew nothing would change between them. How could it? Even with their love, he’d still be a screen, a computer, just a mockery of the man they wished they could have. Whether Robert loved them back or not, if they tried to show it the way they felt they needed to, it didn't matter how much he cared them in return, he would still turn to dust in their trembling, wanton hands.

Ulysses:

Their voice met his ears before the sight of them swam into focus, and even in the dim lantern light, Ulysses could make out the mischief in their eyes as they grinned down at him.

“You didn’t kill me.” He rasped lowly, and despite the pain, he fumbled upwards into a seated position, fixing a warning glare on the courier as they moved to help him up.

Everything ached. He was sure that Six had been involved with the ambush that had incapacitated him, but judging by the wounds littering their own battered form, Ulysses was forced to retract that assumption.

“Glad you’re feeling okay.”

Ulysses’ head pounded and he closed his eyes as he winced at the throbbing pain. He knew he lost a lot of blood, and he must be dehydrated.

“Here.” His eyes snapped open and Six was handing him a bottle of purified water. He only nodded as he took it into his hand and drank the contents down quickly.

“When you’re done with that, you know you could thank me. It’s not that I didn’t kill you, Ulysses, it’s that I saved your life. But you couldn’t have known that, I suppose. So, I'll allow the hostile tone. Honestly though, I wish you could’ve seen–”

“What did you call me?” He placed the empty bottle beside his makeshift bedroll and looked the blabbering courier in the eye, his senses returning to him now that the delirium of dehydration had been chased away.

“U… Ulysses? That’s your name–”

“Yes. Before then, before I woke, what did you say?”

“Y-you can hear in your sleep?”

Ulysses hadn’t felt the urge to roll his eyes in years. The response was often seen as comical, and usually served him no purpose. But Six managed to elicit that very same response to their words almost constantly. The fear in their eyes told him they weren't annoying him on purpose though, so he attempted to clarify.

“A moment ago, I began to stir, and you said that I looked–”

“Oh!” They exclaimed, their eyes widening as, even in the gloom, Ulysses could see a flush creeping up the whole of their face. “Yeah, never mind that. I just… You’re wounded, and half-naked, and your hair was framing your face in this perfect way, and with the soft lantern light, I-I just…”

His dark eyes narrowed under furrowed brows.

What are they aiming at?

“Sorry, Ulysses. I didn’t mean anything by it, really. It was just a joke, for myself, that's all.”

“You’re lying.” His eyes never left them as he spoke. A long pause grew between the pair, and Ulysses could practically hear the courier sweating in their sleep clothes, even in the chill of the evening. But he waited for them to speak, to reveal what it was they had intended to hide.

“Yeah… You could tell?” They said finally, rubbing at the back of their neck, as a shy smile softened their worried expression. “I’m just… I’m glad you didn’t die.”

Ulysses knew they weren't saying all that they meant to, but still, he intended to get to the guided heart of what they were trying to keep from him. Perhaps in the morning, but for now...

"Sleep, courier. I'll keep watch."

Yes Man:

“Well, alrighty then! You go ahead and try it, I’m not going to stop you! Even if I know that it’s definitely not going to work!”

Yes Man had never received a comment like this one before, and it very nearly rendered the securitron speechless, but he couldn’t let himself be thrown off so easily. Benny had often spoken strangely to him too, and he never let that stop him, so here Yes Man was, humoring his good friend the courier.

“I’m sure you can accomplish anything you set your mind to!” He told them optimistically, even as he felt his circuits spark at the feel of their hands reaching up to grasp either side of his screen.

“Hey there, Six. You’re awfully close, some people might think–”

Six didn’t seem to mind the fact that they were in the middle of The Tops casino, and in the next moment, Yes Man felt the strange feel of their lips on the sensor inputs from his screen in the form of a small electric jolt through his entire frame. Even though the robot could surely continue speaking through the courier’s touch, the little shock silenced his thoughts and reservations, and if he could’ve flushed, the entirety of his screen would be a rosy pink as Six touched their lips to him. A moment later, they lowered themself from their tippy toes and smiled up at him in the middle of the casino floor.

“I didn’t really mean it in the literal sense," They told him, "but thanks for the optimism, love.”

"Anytime!" He said, glad that his voice came out as it always did, instead of as the embarrassed squeak he'd imagined.

Humans sure are strange. Yes Man thought, But I wouldn't have them any other way. Well, at least not this one.

[critical-thinking-is-mandatory]

Chats and Bags

Marinette and Adrien have been happily married since they left school and she finally feels ready to tell him the truth. She’s Ladybug and Guardian of the Paris Miraculouses. Unfortunately, maybe the cat should have stayed in the bag.

Marinette slumped back against the closed door with a tired, but satisfied groan. She toed off her heels and wriggled sore, sweaty, stockinged toes.

“Honey!” Marinette called into the apartment. The lights were on, casting her home with warm, soft light, and the tv hummed quietly from the loungeroom. She hung her coat on the hook by the door and stretched, padding into the kitchen. “Adrien, I’m home.”

“Princess!” Adrien hopped down from his perch on one of the kitchen’s bar stools and came bounding towards her, smiling brightly. He scooped her up into a hug and span them both around, giggling like a little girl. “How was work?” Adrien set her down with a kiss on the tip of her nose.

“Good, we finally got all the kinks worked out for the Winter bridal line but that’s not important right now. I’ve got something really important to talk to you about.” Marinette smiled and took Adrien’s hands in hers. “How about we talk over dinner?”

Adrien winced. “Oh. I already ate.” Ah. Marinette spied the emptied takeout containers sitting abandoned on the kitchen bench. One person’s serve. Adrien caught her and flashed a blinding smile. With the sparkle in his eye and Adrien’s perfect smile, Marinette couldn’t find it in herself to be annoyed despite the hunger gnawing at her belly. He bounced on his toes. “I can listen while you eat.” Marinette shook her head and smiled, ignoring the tightness of hunger in her belly.

“That’s okay, it can wait.” Marinette took a deep, steadying breath. “Just- just sit down, I need to go get something.” Adrien perched on a barstool, still smiling brightly. Marinette padded away down the hall to her workroom. Tikki floated out of her blazer pocket and smiled encouragingly when she was at eye-level.

“You can do this Marinette!” Tikki chirped. She flitted about, practically dancing in the air. “It’s Adrien! You two have been in love for years, telling him you’re Ladybug will just make your relationship stronger.”

Marinette steeled herself, confidence boosted. “You’re right Tikki. I can do this. I’m Marinette!” Marinette powered into her workroom and burrowed down to the bottom of her scrap fabric chest. She pulled out the wooden box at the bottom and Tikki phased into the lock and the box popped open on well-oiled springs. Inside, cushioned by stained scrap cloth, was the Miracle Box. It had changed as Marinette grew older and wiser in her role as Guardian, turning from the giant spotted egg, into a baby pink briefcase style sewing kit.

Marinette took one more deep breath to steady the shaking of her hands before reaching in, drawing out the case and standing in one movement.

“Okay.” She smiled nervously at Tikki. “Let’s do this.” Tikki gave Marinette one more bright smile before hiding away in Marinette’s blazer again. Tikki’s weight in a hidden inner pocket, nestled close against Marinette’s side, was soothing and familiar enough to spur Marinette on once more.

Marinette left the workroom behind her and with each step down the hall, towards Adrien, her dear, sweet, perfect Adrien, the box in her hands grew lighter. With every step Marinette took she got closer to finally, finally being able to share her burden. Closer to never having to keep another secret between them ever again. Marinette had everything else she’d ever wanted, and the only thing standing between Marinette and Adrien’s future (with three kids and a hamster) was one teensy, tiny, itty bitty little conversation.

“Phew!” Marinette said to break the quiet, too loud, and she winced when Adrien startled.

Adrien looked between Marinette and the case curiously, perfect golden brows furrowed in a mix of obvious confusion and curiosity. “Your sewing kit?” Marinette perched on a stool opposite Adrien, taking her time to straighten the kit on the island between them. She forced herself to meet Adrien’s eyes, suddenly trembling with nerves.

“Not just a sewing kit,” Marinette murmured. Just do it. Like ripping a band-aid off. She opened her blazer and Tikki floated out, giving Adrien a cheery little wave. “It’s the Miracle Box. I’m Ladybug, Adrien.” Tikki giggled and settled on Marinette’s shoulder.

For his part, Adrien seemed unphased. He smiled brightly with that little twinkle in his eye Marinette had always adored.

“Adrien?” Marinette gently pressed. She didn’t want to press him for a response but his silence was making her heart tremble. Adrien’s smile grew to a thousand-Watt beam and he seemed almost to vibrate in his seat.

“I’m so glad you finally told me,” Adrien chirped. He reached out and brought Marinette’s hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to her knuckles and then another to her sparkling wedding ring. “Now we don’t need to keep secrets between us!” He pressed another kiss to her knuckles before grinning dashingly. “Plagg.”

“Plagg?” Marinette whispered. She felt cold and hot all at once. “So you’re-“

“Chat Noir, yes.” Adrien grinned in that smug, ‘cat that got the canary’ way Marinette had come to expect only from her partner. Seeing it on Adrien’s face made her stomach flip and decidedly not in the butterflies and curling toes and shivers down her spine way. “I’m so glad you finally told me M’Lady, it’s been agony not being able to call you My Lady every day.” Marinette’s blood froze.

“What did you say?” She whispered. Ice crept through her veins and closed her throat.

“I’ve wanted to call you My Lady for years, and now I finally can!” Adrien pressed yet another kiss to Marinette’s knuckles before ploughing on. “Well I’ve known for years M’Lady!” Adrien – Chat – Adrichat? practically purred. “Ever since I saw you leaving my room after gifting me my favourite beret.” He sighed dreamily, apparently totally ignorant of the ice in Marinette’s blood slowly creeping from her blood into her expression. “It was Fate, M’Lady, and look at us! Together forever because you finally saw that we were made for each other.”

That phrase was painfully, heartbreakingly familiar. “Adrien, I don’t understand. Are- what are you saying? Did you only marry me…because you knew I was Ladybug?” Marinette’s eyes burned with potential tears. “I thought you loved me.”

Adrien finally seemed to realise things weren’t completely fine and dandy because his expression fell into that kicked puppy look he was so good at. “Of course I love you Bugaboo! You’re the Ladybug to my Chat Noir, the yin to my yang, the creation to my destruction.” Marinette snatched her hand out of Adrien’s grasp and his expression crumpled like tissue paper.

Marinette stood, her stool scraping and Tikki dislodged from her shoulder. “My name is Marinette.” Her breath hitched and she snatched up the Miracle Box, clutching it to her chest. “You know I hate it when you call me Bugaboo. You know that.” She stumbled back when Adrien stood, still smiling that cat grin.

“There’s no need to play coy anymore, Princess,” Adrien purred. “We’ve been married since we were eighteen.” His stare grew hot, eyes darkening and he circled round the island. Marinette shifted towards the doorway. “You and I know each other intimately.” Adrien pressed closer still. “What are you so upset for? We’re happy together, aren’t we?”

“You lied to me!” Marinette shouted. Her outburst seemed to shock Adrien almost as much as it shocked Marinette herself. “Did you really only love me because you knew I was Ladybug? Would you have even considered dating me, marrying me, if you thought I was just plain old Marinette?”

“Well what was I supposed to do? You wouldn’t let me in as Chat, so when I knew for sure who you were behind the mask how was I supposed to resist?” Adrien demanded and if Marinette had any doubts he was Chat Noir they were thoroughly, utterly trashed on the floor. No one else could be so entitled, so, so pig-headed! That was the last straw. Marinette steeled herself.

“I’m going.” Adrien startled. “I…I need some – some time to myself. Don’t call me. I’ll-“ Marinette’s breath hitched and she forced herself to continue past the lump in her throat- “I’ll call you.” Marinette fled, barely remembering her coat and shoes as she bolted out the door.

“M’Lady!” Adrien called. “Princess!” His voiced cracked, clearly nearly in tears. Adrien’s heartbroken shouting cut off with the closing of the elevator doors. Marinette let out a sob, finally breaking in the relative comfort and safety of the elevator.

Tikki fluttered up to pat Marinette’s cheek sympathetically. “Oh Marinette. It’ll all be okay.” Marinette swiped roughly at her eyes, drawing away the tears that were starting to fall. Tikki gave her a soft, sad-eyed look. “You should call your parents, Marinette.”

“But it’s so late and they need to be awake early tomorrow to open the bakery and if I keep them up too late-“

“Marinette,” Tikki interrupted firmly. “Your parents love you, call them.” Marinette gave in, pulling out her phone just as the elevator doors opened. Tikki hid away in Marinette’s blazer. Marinette dialled her parents’ number, slipping her coat on one arm and her shoes back on as she listened to the dial tone.

“What if they don’t pick up?” Marinette worried. She didn’t have to.

“Marinette, honey?” Her maman answered. “Is everything okay, sweetie? You’re calling quite late.” Marinette sniffled.

“Maman can I- can I come stay tonight?” The doorman gave Marinette a nervous look as she passed and she realised she probably looked awful, with her tear-streaked makeup and her coat only half on. The thought only served to make Marinette feel worse and she gave a small wail that echoed in the empty street. A stray cat hissed and skittered out of her path.

“Oh sweetie, sh sh. Of course you’re welcome, Marinette. Do you want me to come pick you up?” Marinette wiped her nose on the back of her hand.

“No, that’s- that’s okay Maman.” Marinette sniffled again, listening to the click of her heels on the sidewalk as she collected herself. “I’ll be there soon,” Marinette assured her maman. She forced a wobbly smile even though Maman wouldn’t be able to see it. “I promise.” Marinette hung up and turned her face to the sky. The moon was washed out by the streetlights, and any light that may have made it past was smothered by city smog. Altogether a fittingly depressing picture.

In all of Marinette’s fussing, her planning, making contingency plans for her contingency plans, never had Marinette considered that Adrien already knew. Knew and never told her and and and- Marinette paused in the middle of the path and shrieked, stomping her feet and barely resisting the temptation to sit down in the grime of the sidewalk and cry like a little kid. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair at all.

[ibis-gt]

Can we see the story of the gulliver's hanahaki first kiss?? Kiss, and then shrink so hard you're hanging off those lips you just kissed!

ough ok you got me Thinkin. just shy of 1500 words under the cut.

It was day two of their relationship, and Luther was already tired of taking it slow.

That was something they’d established on day one. Once Cam had finally puzzled out why Luther kept shrinking around him - his insanely embarrassing crush on Cam, of course - he’d laughed out loud, which only hurt a little, and then asked Luther out, which more than made up for it. The date hadn’t been anything spectacular by others’ standards, just a night in with popcorn and a movie, but it had been absolutely magical for Luther to finally be with the man of his dreams and not have to try to hide how deeply attracted to Cam he was. But having his feelings reciprocated hadn’t stopped his strange affliction, and when Cam leaned in for a good night kiss, all he got was air. Luther, now of a height with Cam’s ankles, had once again wished he’d just shrink away into nothing to spare himself the embarrassment.

So, the agreement. They’d take everything slow until Luther got used to it and wouldn’t end up tiny just because his boyfriend smiled at him. Cam was patient and willing to wait. Luther, however, had been bottling up his feelings since they’d first met, and was just about at the end of his rope. He wanted romance, he wanted passion, he wanted to be swept off his feet, and anyway being the size of a Polly Pocket made that last bit easier.

The two of them were sitting on Cam’s couch together watching some mindless soap drama at the end of a long day at work. They sat on opposite sides of the couch, since just a touch from Cam could make Luther lose a few inches. Luther took a deep breath to steady his nerves. It was time to make his move. He began to scoot closer to Cam, closing the gap between them. If Cam noticed, he didn’t react. Slowly but surely, Luther inched over until he was nearly touching Cam. He paused, did a breathing exercise to help slow his racing heart, and then leaned over until his side was flush with Cam’s, his head leaning on Cam’s shoulder. He held that pose for a moment, willing himself with all his might to stay full size. A moment passed… another… and he seemed to be all there. He let out a happy sign and relaxed into the touch, all the tension flooding out of him. His face was heating up, sure, and his heart was still going a mile a minute, but he seemed to be in control enough that he wasn’t panicking and activating the shrinking. So far, so good.

Cam seemed to notice Luther’s lack of shrinkage as well, and shifted so that his arm was draped over Luther’s shoulders. Uh oh. Okay, okay, Luther could handle this, no problem. This was just some nice romantic intimacy, nothing too heavy, they were just fine. Then Cam laughed at some inane moment on the show, and his laughter shook his body and Luther with it. The sheer proximity hit Luther all at once, and he felt himself begin to shrink. Cam’s arm grew heavier on his shoulders as he fought for control. No, no no, no no no, you’re fine, you can handle this, he thought desperately. You’re just leaning on your boyfriend. Get a grip.

But then came the nail in his coffin. Cam, noticing Luther begin to shrink, tried to do the supportive thing. He rubbed Luther’s back with his hand and looked down at him with that beautiful face, eyebrows drawn up adorably in an expression of concern, and asked in a soft voice, “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

That was it. Luther’s heart jumped into his throat and the bottom fell out of his stomach and in a moment he was a mere eight inches tall, thankfully saved from nudity by the newly-designed jumpsuit that would shrink and grow with him. He slid down into the indent Cam made in the couch cushion and buried his face in his hands.

“Oh, shoot, I’m sorry,” Cam said, far above him. “I didn’t mean to - shoot.” He picked up the remote and clicked the TV off, then reached down and laid his hand next to Luther. “You wanna come up here?”

Luther climbed into the offered palm and held on as Cam carefully lifted him up to eye height. “Sorry,” Luther sighed. “I guess I rushed it a little too much. I just… I want to be able to be with you like… like a normal person. I don’t care if I shrink, really! I’m just tired of holding back.”

Cam’s worried expression smoothed into a fond smile. He stroked Luther’s back with one finger. “I’m fine with whatever you’re comfortable with,” Cam said. “If you want to do normal couple things, we can do normal couple things. I just thought you might want to avoid this as much as possible.”

“Well, I do, I don’t want to be a burden to you all the time, but…” Luther trailed off, looking down and away. He started in surprise as Cam put a fingertip to his chin and tilted it up so that he could look Luther in the eyes.

“You’re not a burden to me. You never are.” Cam hesitated, then continued on. “Honestly… and maybe I shouldn’t say it, because I’m sure it’s not fun for you, but I like you when you’re all tiny… I like you at any size, but you’re especially cute like this, you know? Fitting in the palm of my hand and all… it’s nice.”

Luther gaped, seeing a flush of red start to creep across Cam’s cheeks. He was so certain that his change in size could only ever be an annoyance, a pain, something to be dealt with, he hadn’t even considered that someone might find it nice.

“Really?” Luther whispered. For a moment, he was scared Cam would say no, that it had all been a joke, and throw him out of the apartment. It was ridiculous, absurd, Cam would never do that, but just for a moment that fear gripped him like a vice.

“Really,” Cam assured him, and the fear dissolved like cotton candy in water.

“Oh,” Luther said, and it was all he could say for a moment, so he said it again. “Oh.” Then a desire welled up in him, and he said, “Kiss me?”

Cam gave a short, incredulous laugh. “Um, I want to, but… how?”

“Just…” Luther leant forward on Cam’s hand, shifting so that he sat on his knees with his hands on the edge of Cam’s palm. His eyes focused on Cam’s lips. “Just kiss me. My face, I guess. Whole thing’s fine.”

“Okay… here goes. Tell me if it’s too much?” Luther nodded, so Cam brought him closer hesitantly. Luther reached out and put his hands on either side of Cam’s mouth, and Cam gently pressed his lips against Luther’s face.

It was immediately overwhelming, but Luther didn’t care. He didn’t have room to care. He was surrounded by lovely soft warmth, like pressing his face into a pillow. He kissed Cam’s bottom lip as hard as he could, desperate to give back any sensation possible. He knew Cam could feel it, because Cam laughed fondly through his nose, a warm exhalation of breath that tousled Luther’s hair and sent shivers down his spine.

Luther felt himself begin to shrink again.

In his whole life, the smallest he’d ever been was just a hair under three inches tall. The shrinking sensation was so strong that even before he was halfway through, he knew he was about to smash that record. He felt his hands trail down Cam’s cheeks and his bottom lip and grabbed on tight. His legs came up off of Cam’s palm as he dwindled down til he was just dangling off of Cam’s lip, feet kicking in a blind panic, digging his nails into Cam’s lip to keep from falling. His stomach dropped as Cam’s mouth opened, jaw lowering infinitesimally, but enough at Luther’s size to nearly jar him loose from his perch. He buried his face in Cam’s lip, not wanting to see inside that terrifying cavern in front of him.

“Woah,” Cam breathed, and the force of the word hit him like a gale. Luther squeaked in panic. He lost his hold and tumbled backwards, thankfully falling into Cam’s waiting hand. Cam stared in shock down at his itty bitty boyfriend, only an inch tall. Luther stared back up in sheer incomprehension. Cam was so large to him now that he filled Luther’s vision completely.

“Oh, jeez,” Cam murmured, trying to keep his voice quiet, but it still thundered around Luther like the voice of a god. “Maybe we went a little too fast there.”

[harseik]

Firesiders: Innocent Blood - Page 19

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You’re invited to read the comic in a more comfortable format on ComicFury~! Default Webpage: LINK Infinite Scroll View: LINK

I wish I could properly express the sheer joy I experienced drawing this page. Things are getting weird, all of the expressions were outrageously fun to figure out, and it's great seeing Noah respond to circumstances where he is not in control and, like, trying to be some kind of hero. He's a jerk, but a protective jerk. And maybe, just maybe, Lupe is correct and everything really is his fault. I've NEVER liked baby-shaped antagonists. They have always wigged me out. As a kid, any baby character bearing a slightly unusual shape never failed to give me nightmares (Baby Sinclair, Dawn of the Dead zombie baby, Dead Space Lurkers, Eraserhead, Silent Hill 4's Twins, Tiny Toons, lol). I've never liked the look of chibis for that very reason and rarely drew them unless begged by friends. They are worse than creepy Japanese girls, creepy olds, and any other age group <i>combined</i>, so although the visuals may not do it for some and might even find cherub enemies downright funny, the concept of monstrous infants come from a sickening, freaky, unexplainable place for me. I'll do my best to clue everyone in on one of my darkest fears through this little story beat. Enjoy. :) In my previous page submission I was endlessly complaining about similar-looking costuming on Marcus and Noah. I addressed it slightly by giving Marcus baggier sleeves, thicker shirt material, and changing Noah's shirt in an extremely nobody-cares kind of way. Itty bitty changes that do nothing except give this neurotic artist some additional confidence in the visuals. (Lupe will suffer some changes too. I really don't like her fake-looking shoes tbh...)

[dindjarinbae]

The Stars in Your Eyes (Din Djarin x Reader)

first of all, this is dedicated to @anakinshooker, because she gave me the softest little idea for a little Mando fic, in honor of the season 2 trailer’s release. i’m in big love with Mando, my Mando heart really melted with this one. this is really nothing but fluff, like the plot is just fluff.

TW: none, mentions of a cut.

WC: 4455

PART TWO HERE!!

You lived a fairly ordinary life, or at least you’d like to think so. 

Naboo was a fairly normal planet, and that’s what you loved about it. You ran your flower shop and you came home each night and you went to bed and woke up to do the same thing, and you never grew tired of it. Maybe it was boring to some, but to you, it was everything. As a flower merchant, you had many fields to pick from, to frolic in, to buy flowers from, to arrange them, to sell them and spread joy. With just flowers? Yes. You were a believer that flowers could express so much. 

So you were content spending your days with them, and you did not want that to change. Change was not your favorite thing, which is why you wanted things to be the same, with the flowers and Naboo, and each constant in your life. 

Unfortunately that changed on a beautiful spring morning, two days before the solstice. You sat in your chair with your hands busy weaving a crown of flowers at your little flower shop on the corner of a sweet little street, when the door flew open, the bell above it dangling chaotically. Your eyes flew to the door and you stood, the flower crown falling to the table below.

No one stood in the doorframe, no one was outside near the shop, and no one besides you was inside the store. Or at least, it seemed that way for a brief second before you heard a small intake of air, and the output of that same air in the form of a happy coo. Your eyes dropped to the floor and they settled upon a pair of the biggest eyes you’d ever seen in your life. A child, and it could only have been a foot tall, waddled toward you, swathed in a big brown robe that swallowed his entire body, making his head seem ever so tiny, and his hands appear almost minuscule. It was the strangest child you’d see, green in color with big, long ears off the side of its tiny head, and a bit of fuzz on the top of said head.

You stepped away from the table and walked around the counter to the child, who was now reaching up for you with the most pathetic, three-fingered little grabby hands you had ever seen in your life. You took your time before picking him up, blinking and looking out the window behind him for anyone that might be searching for a little child. But there was no one. 

So you bent down at the waist and grabbed him by his itty bitty torso and lifted the little creature into your arms, and to this, he had much to say. He began to babble in your arms and reach up for your hair, as if he had been looking for you after so long and he finally had this chance to catch up, like a chatty aunt. 

“Where in the galaxy did you come from? Hm?” You asked and looked down at him, his big eyes narrowing just slightly, as if he had no idea what you were saying, and his babbling ceased. This question seemed to cause the small thing a bit of confusion, and he huffed a couple of times before he closed his hand around a handful of your hair. He didn’t have much more to say after you spoke, your question clearly vexing him and his happy little rant in gibberish, and you took the opportunity to walk outside your shop to look around for a moment, but as it was moments ago, no one seemed to be missing a child. 

No one ever came, and it wasn’t like you could let the strange and adorable little alien go off on his own, so you brought him back inside and sat him down on the tabletop where your flowers and flower crowns laid. He seemed to take a liking to these, because he picked one up with his chubby little hands and he studied it the best way a child can: with his mouth. You fussed over this and pulled the flower from his mouth, the pretty yellow blossom becoming a bit withered with the level of manhandling it had just experienced. But the kid seemed to find this funny, your bewilderment, and he giggled and reached for the flower in your hands again. And though you wanted to be annoyed, the giggle that came out of his little mouth was enough to bring the happiest of smiles to your face. 

So the day was spent like this, you and a lost child, playing with flowers, tending to customers, and giggling. Giggling and smiling and messing around in the little shop. The sweet innocence of the day almost made you forget about the kid being lost and how no one came looking for him. He sat on the counter with a little cup of fruit that you had put together for him and he was making a bit of a mess on his face, while you tried to figure out what to do with the little guy. So you took him home, just for the night, you told yourself. You’d find his home tomorrow. 

But that didn’t happen. 

You spent the night giggling and smiling and giggling and smiling and even more giggling and smiling with that little creature, before you two finally tuckered out. The baby laid sleeping against your shoulder while you read and his little snores and grunts were enough to return the smile to your face, and soon enough, you were ready to sleep yourself. 

Your routine had changed completely for five whole days. You’d had this kid in your care for five whole days now. As always, he sat on top of your counter while you bundled some flowers into a bouquet, playing around with a spool of glittering blue ribbon he had found in a little basket next to him, chattering and babbling on as if the ribbon and him were having the most riveting of discussions, and you found yourself wondering just what it was you thought the small child was saying. You shook your head and continued to add flowers to your bouquet, completely unsuspecting to the door that flew angrily off of its hinges, and the bell above breaking free to hit the wall on the other side of the small shop. 

You gasped and dropped the bouquet, a strangely strong maternal instinct taking over your mind, and you snatched the child right off of the counter before dropping to the floor. You tried to hide your panic from the kid, but his face was already scrunching up at the sight of yours, which was most likely terrified. He touched your face and made a little cooing sound before you shushed him, tucking his little head against your shoulder. Fear struck through you like lightening and you didn’t dare turn around when heavy, metallic footsteps became ever so prominent in your little shop. You closed your eyes and huddled in the corner behind your counter, knees drawn up to your chest and arms clutching the little alien that clung to you with nearly the same intensity.

The table next to your counter was kicked and it flew to the side, vases shattering against the floor and loose flowers flying all over, and you yelped, your heart pounding against your chest. You kept your eyes shut and listened to the heavy footsteps grow closer and closer until the child was ripped from your arms. At this point, your eyes flew open and you grit your teeth, launching yourself upwards, savagely needing to protect this little creature. 

Even if that meant somehow getting rid of this six foot tall man. Slathered in cold steel armor. Crowned with a sleek helmet and a big, long weapon holstered to his back. He stood easily a head taller than you and was now looking down on you, his stance making you cower only slightly, and you prayed that he didn’t notice. 

“Give him back!” You said and tried to lunge forward to grab the baby, but this was rudely unsuccessful, because with one hand, he pushed you back and you lost your footing, hitting the floor with a loud crack. 

You looked down and you noticed then that you had fallen into a thick vase, the glass cutting deep into your hand.

But the blood and the horrified expression on your face didn’t stop the child from whining a bit and the silent warrior standing over you. You couldn’t see his eyes through his helmet, but the stare you felt seemed close to deadly as he crouched down and grabbed the neckline of your dress, yanking you forward. 

“Who do you work for?” He asked, his helmet distorting what was probably the otherwise smooth voice and turning it into a menacing fear tactic. 

“N-no one,” you mumbled and tried to pull away from his grip. It only tightened. 

“No one? So you just took my kid for fun?” He asked, and though his voice was cold and robotic, you could hear its incredulous tone. 

You shook your head and grabbed at his wrist, but you winced, the cut on your hand stinging nastily, “I didn’t take your kid... he wandered in here. I’ve been watching him.. I...” you tried to get away from him once more but gave up, “No one came for him, I couldn’t just leave him somewhere.. he’s a kid,” you explained, almost breathlessly as the pain in your hand only grew worse as you became more aware of the glass that stayed lodged within the cut. 

He held your neckline for a bit longer before pushing you backwards just a bit. You cradled your bloody hand against your chest and you looked down at it. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as it looked, but from your standpoint, it seemed pretty bad. 

Above, the baby whined and you could hear him grunting, and your gaze flickered up to him as he tried to wiggle away from the armored man holding him. He turned his green little head toward you and he reached one fat little hand toward you, a frown on his face. 

The man tilted his helmet down to the baby and then back at you, and he did this a few times before he sighed and crouched down next to you, letting the child down as well. 

“You took care of him? That’s it? Nothing else? Because so help me god-“ he began, and the baby teetered his way towards you. 

You nodded and leaned your head back, “Yes, I swear. I only took care of him. He wandered into my shop five days ago. I didn’t know where to take him,” you insisted and reached out with your good hand to meet the hand of the child which was outstretched towards you. His little stubby fingers wrapped around one of yours and you smiled just a bit, and he seemed to pick up on the fact that you were relieved to have him grab your finger, and a little smile formed on his tiny mouth. 

He liked you. 

—

This was nearly six months ago. After having your shop turned upside down, the father of this kid, which you came to learn was a Mandalorian, helped you clean up your hand before he promptly offered you a job. You would come along with him and the baby and watch the little alien while he took care of work, which you also came to learn was bounty hunting. 

You almost said no. 

Almost. 

But that damn baby and his big stupid eyes looked at you so happily, that you couldn’t say no, and you quietly accepted. 

And you couldn’t say that you regretted it at all, because of said baby. 

At first, things were tense. You referred to The Mandalorian as ‘Sir’ and nothing else, and he never corrected you or asked you to call him something different until a month or so later when he told you that you could address him as ‘Mando’. 

Mando was a man of few words. An unreadable man of few words. He always seemed emotionless, always seemed like he was capable of nothing but his job, and in the weirdest way, caring for the little green toddler.  

Until nearly three months into your new life with the two of them. You and the kid were taken by a spiteful quarry, and disaster led to more disaster, and it took nearly three days for Mando to find the two of you. 

After that he wasn’t so emotionless. 

After almost losing the child and you, Mando began to notice things about you that he never did before. Until that point, you were beneficial to him, no more, no less. He didn’t like you, and he didn’t hate you. You were convenient and kind and caring enough to help him with the occasional wound. You never asked questions very often, and that made him happy. The only time you asked something worthy of conversation was when you nearly walked in on him with his helmet off, and his chastising snap was enough to cause you to ask what you did wrong, which in turn, he briefly explained that the helmet did not come off in front of anyone, and you seemed to want to ask more. 

But you didn’t. Instead you respected his silence and in turn, he respected your talkative nature. 

And god were you talkative. This was one of the things he noticed about you very first. You’d only met Greef Karga twice, and that was enough for Mando. It didn’t seem to occur to him that if you put two talkative people together, they’re gonna talk. For hours. And so he sat in a cantina while you chatted happily with Karga about your flowers on Naboo, and he chatted right back about some girl he met and his favorite drinks and things such as that. The second time, Mando didn’t let it get even twenty minutes in before he was corralling you back onto the Razor Crest with a baby on your hip that was talking just as much as you were. Sometimes he’d hear the two of you having little conversations down in the hull of his ship. You were speaking as if you were talking to a dear friend, and the child sat upon your lap, babbling intelligently, absolutely confident that everyone could understand these unintelligible sounds he made. This seemed to make both of you very happy, so Mando let it happen, even if it went on for hours and his head was so full of baby noises and your voice that he wanted to yell. He wouldn’t ever admit how cute he really found your talkative nature. 

Of course, it was the kindness he noticed about you next. You were perhaps the sweetest person he’d met in his entire life. You were selfless for that kid, staying up all night to bounce him as he cried, or you’d do just ridiculous things to make him giggle. Sometimes you’d stay awake until Mando came back just to make sure he got there safely, and if he was wounded? You’d sniff it out like a bloodhound and insist that he let you help him tend to his wounds.

He’d almost always let you, just so he could indulge just a bit to feel your soft skin against his own. 

Almost a week after you and the kid had been taken, he began to find himself watching you more and more. 

He began to notice and appreciate things about you that he’d never thought twice about in the past. 

Like how your eyes would glitter when you were happy. He liked that. He found himself nearly cracking a smile underneath his helmet when he would watch your eyes light up. Or how you didn’t like to sleep if the baby was awake, because it made you anxious. He especially liked the time of night where you’d sit and twirl your fingers through your hair and read, and most times, he desperately wished it was his fingers moving through your lovely hair. He knew you were always cold. It’s just how you were. You weren’t used to being in space all the time, so if you ever fell asleep without a blanket, he’d be sure to cover you with one. And if you were caught outside with him when it got cold? He’d put his cape around your shoulders and instruct you to wrap it around your front, which you did with ease, because the thick fabric was made to fit his broad shoulders and it enveloped your frame easily. Mando took great pride in seeing his cape around your shoulders, almost as if he had some sort of ownership over you in the most loving way possible. 

Nearly four months into this arrangement, and he found himself actively listening and more frequently than before, engaging in conversation with you. This seemed to make you happy, and he liked that. He liked that a lot, because then your eyes would do that... thing that he loved. 

And to you? This was wonderful. So wonderful, in fact, that you began to find yourself drawn to him, and within absolutely no time, you found yourself hopelessly in love with The Mandalorian. You knew it wasn’t good, and you knew you’d never get what you wanted from him, but that didn’t stop your foolish heart. 

He’d take as many opportunities as he could to tell you he was thankful for you and to note that the kid loved you, and each time, your heart would flutter, sending pink to your cheeks. 

He noticed this every time, and it always filled him with a sense of gentle pride.

He liked you. He really did. But as far has he was concerned, it was a silly crush on a silly young girl that came from a place of gratitude. 

Or that’s what he’d tell himself, at least. 

One day, six months into your arrangement, the three of you found yourselves on Naboo, chasing a lesser criminal, and when Mando had caught him, you had begged him to let you show the kid your favorite field to pick flowers from. 

At first, he refused. The second time you asked, he also refused. But by the fifth, he gruffly allotted you twenty minutes, supervised by him, in a field of your choice. You gratefully bounced up and down in front of him and you gave him a quick hug in passing, and the small gesture wouldn’t leave his mind, though he was sure it had left yours. 

When he landed the Crest in the middle of the field, you wasted no time in scooping up the excited child and running down the ramp as soon as it came down. 

It was nearly sunset as the two of you played around in the flowers, giggling and smiling amongst each other while under the over-observant watch of Mando, leaning against the side of the ramp while you two messed around. After a few moments, you skipped up to him and held out a soft pink flower, and instantly, he became speechless with the way he easily compared the color of the plant to that of your rosy cheeks. 

“Here,” you offered and when he didn’t reach for it, you grabbed his hand and placed the flower in it, “These are my favorites. Also, I think they’re the kid’s favorites, too. He keeps trying to eat them,” she said and he babbled in your arms, like he was agreeing with you. 

He didn’t wrap his fingers around the flower, but he held it in his palm and looked down at it before nodding. He handed it back to you and you shook your head, frowning just a bit, “No, no,” she protested and set the kid down, “It’s for you. I picked it for you,” she explained and the child waddled a few feet away to plop down next to a tall patch of grass with little yellow blossoms growing within it. 

He looked curiously at the flower and back up at you before nodding once, “Thank you,” he spoke, not sure of what to say. 

You nodded and you stood on your toes to place a kiss against his helmet, right where his cheek would’ve been, “Think of it as a good luck flower or something like that. I don’t know much about good luck charms though, so maybe just keep it in my honor, Mando,” she said softly with a giggle and went to sit down next to the baby, picking flowers with him. 

As Mando watched you, he felt that odd feeling again, the one he’d chalked up to a silly crush, and the words were already out of his mouth before he could stop them. 

“Din.”

You looked up from the beginnings of a flower crown confusedly, “Excuse me, what?” You asked and studied him. 

He cursed himself silently for that, but he couldn’t brush it off as an accident now. So he sighed and walked towards you and the kid, lowering himself gracefully to crouch next to you, “Din. That’s my name. You may call me that when it’s just us three,” he answered, watching your face before rising back up. He made his way back to his spot against the ship, leaning there silently. 

It had been well over twenty minutes, because now the sun had gone down and the stars began to grow brighter in the sky. You looked down and noticed the little alien had fallen asleep in the soft grass and you looked over at Din, who was staring off at the horizon. Or you thought at least. It wasn’t like you could feel his stare on you. 

But it was. 

“Hey, why don’t you come over here and sit for a minute?” You asked softly and looked over at him. His head didn’t move and he made no indication that he’d even heard you until he uncrossed his arms from his chest. 

He shook his head once and tapped the side of the ship, “We need to get going,” he spoke and turned towards the ship to board it. 

“No. Not yet. Please. Come sit for a minute, you could really use a little bit of a breather and there’s no better place to do it than a field of flowers,” you were practically begging, and he seemed to not care as he continued to walk up the ramp, so you waited a second before calling out to him by name, “Din? Please? Just for a minute and then we can leave.”

The soft way his name rolled off of your tongue stopped him dead in his tracks and he stood unmoving for a moment before sighing, and you could hear this distinctly through his modulator. He turned around and seemed to be assessing where you sat next to the sleeping baby and he almost reluctantly walked back towards you two. He stood over you for almost three whole minutes before he sat down next to you, and you made a point to scoot a bit closer to him. 

“You know, I used to make the prettiest flower chains for like... parties and things. And then people stopped celebrating all the time, you know? Most of the party goes moved away from Naboo slowly and now it’s just a lot of tourists,” you explained and plucked a bright yellow flower out of the ground and tucked it behind your ear before you leaned your head absentmindedly against his shoulder. He didn’t say a word, and you were used to that. He didn’t usually respond to your conversation. 

Din shifted slightly underneath you and you went to pull away, apologizing under your breath about laying your head against him. But he placed a firm hand on your thigh and you froze, “It’s alright. You don’t need to move,” he spoke, sliding his hand away from your leg. 

You tentatively rested against him once more and looked up at the stars beyond the Crest. Din would’ve looked too, but he had already seen the same stars in your eyes, hundreds of times before now. He’d rather see them there anyway. 

His gaze was fixed upon the light sundress that you wore that day, how it fell around your legs, just above the knee, and how the pretty pale pink fabric looked against your soft skin. He stayed like that for a while, silently sitting there so he didn’t disrupt your rest, and it wasn’t until he heard your deep breathing that he realized you’d fallen asleep. 

Din could’ve cursed your name for letting yourself get so tired, and it settled with him right then that you worked much too hard for your own good, and made a mental note to relieve you of baby duties more often so that you could rest. 

Finally, The Mandalorian decided it was time to leave, and he reached over to scoop the baby up and lay him on your lap before he stood and lifted you into his arms simultaneously. He made lifting you and the baby look as simple as moving a leaf, but perhaps in your case, moving a flower would be more accurate. Once inside of the Crest, he closed the door and laid the two of you down against a cot, plucking the child off of your lap and putting him back in his little pod. He covered both of you up and knelt down by your bedside, watching you peacefully sleep, and he would’ve given anything to run his fingers across your cheek right then. 

His hands moved to your face and hovered above your skin for a moment before taking a new route to his helmet, taking on a mind of their own. Din removed his helmet silently and leaned down to press his lips against your forehead, leaving them there for a long time before he pulled away and put the helmet back on. He rose to his feet and turned away so that he could start the ship and get into the air, his chest sinking when he realized that when you were sleeping was the only time he’d ever be able to do that, when you weren’t even conscious, when you couldn’t even feel it. 

Though you’d never tell him, you found yourself half awake when his lips were pressed to your forehead. 

And without his knowledge, you felt it. 

Oh, you felt it.