#'joke' because i sincerely did not think they would even consider doing it for a second and said it to make them laugh

[unopenablebox]

very bad and evil action from today. i made a 'joke' about my girlfriend going out and bringing me bubble tea even tho 1. they only just got home 2. i would be fine without it 3. the place delivers

but then. they did it

[indecisivemuch]

Flatline

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Reader

Summary: A certain hospital equipment exposed Luke's feelings for you (funny, fluff, friends to lovers, banter dynamic, minor injuries, happy ending).

Note: I’m sorry if this is not as good as my other works, writers block + being sick has been killing me.

Word count: 2.7k

It was somewhat strange at first to see Luke in normal clothing rather than that bright orange camp shirt that you’ve grown so familiar with. But after spending four days outside of camp and on a quest together, you’ve actually somewhat grown fond of the sight. You could still vividly remember the moment he picked you as his quest companion without an ounce of hesitation. It wasn’t surprising, considering you two have always made a good team, a likely result of training with each other for three years straight. Nevertheless, it warmed your heart that you were his first pick. 

“Are you okay?” You asked inspecting Luke's wound as he sat against a tree and sighed in relief when you realized the cut was not too deep. 

Just a couple of minutes back, you two were walking through the forest and on your way to the nearest bus stop that could take you back to camp. However, the universe must have thought the long journey was not enough of suffering because somehow, you two came across a chimera that managed to claw your arm and Luke in the abdomen. 

“It’s not too bad. I think we can still make it to the last bus if we just quickly wrap your wounds up,” you noted. 

Meanwhile, all Luke could do was watch you. He knew he should be listening, but how could he when you were so attentive to him at that moment? He hungrily took in the way you were taking care of him in such a worried manner as if you were his personal guardian angel. Part of him wanted to soothe your worries, but he selfishly wanted to enjoy it this time because it was for him. 

“Hey, did you hear what I said?” you asked when you didn’t hear a reply. You turned towards Luke, but was quickly caught off guard. 

There was something sincere and sweet about the way he was staring at you. However, somewhere along three years of knowing him, you have concluded that Luke Castellan must have made it one of his life missions to annoy you because he has never passed up on any opportunities for flirty antics just to see you grow flustered. Hence, you ignored how he was gazing at you, though you scowled at yourself internally upon feeling your cheeks warm up. 

“Stop looking at me like that,” you forced out. 

“Like what?”

“You know what I’m talking about,” Luke almost chuckled at how you started blushing from just the way he was watching you. Oh, if only you knew. Luke loved getting your attention on him. He would snatch up any chance just to have your eyes on him or to have you care for him. The boy loved just seeing you blush over his little teasings. It was also fascinating to him how you never realized the true intentions behind his actions. Luke knew that half the camp probably knew that he was absolutely dotted on you from the way he was acting like a five-year-old boy chasing after his crush. Though, you always deemed his words and gestures as playful and jokes rather than genuine.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he replied. However, the cheeky grin on his face told you otherwise, and you hit his arm in retaliation. “Ouch, is that the way to treat an injured person?” Luke joked.

“You’re barely injured. The wound is not even that deep.” 

“Well…surely, if it’s not that bad, you can just kiss it better, right?” Your cheeks tinted a more evident shade of pink at his words, and you let out a deep sigh before giving Luke a playful glare. He only smirked at this, and Gods, you found that annoying yet endearing at the same time. Meanwhile, the boy was proudly relishing the idea that he was the cause of the blush that was adorning your cheeks.

“Okay, I say, let’s find somewhere safer, and then I’ll disinfect and wrap your wound up, yeah?” You suggested, purposefully deciding to ignore Luke’s previous words.

“Yes, ma’am.” Luke breathed out. 

However, before you could help Luke up and relocate, two hikers spotted the both of you. It was a middle-aged married couple, and you slightly cursed under your breath. As you predicted, they started panicking at the sight of Luke’s bleeding wound and asked if you both needed help.

“Oh no, we’re fine,” you tried saying, though you could see the husband already calling 911. “Seriously, we have this handled,” you tried to reassure them, reaching out to the husband so he’d put the phone down, but the wife touched one of your shoulders.

“How did this happen?” the over-caring strangers asked.

“It was…a bear,” you settled on saying, grimacing when you realized you were less convincing than you wanted. You hoped the woman would not ask for further elaborations because that would require the impromptu level you were not ready to play at.

“The ambulance should be here soon,” the husband informed while keeping 911 on the line, and you abruptly turned to him. Now, your mind started panicking. You two were meant to keep a low profile.

“What? No, he’s really fine. It’s just a minor injury. Look! He’s practically like he always is. Right, Luke?” You turned back to Luke, hoping he’d attest to your words against these strangers. However, you were caught off-guard by the sight of him with his eyes closed instead. “Luke?” you called again, this time louder. Yet, you were met with the same response - utter silence.

Then came the sound of sirens, and the next thing you knew, you were sitting on a chair next to a hospital bed where Luke was lying still. You’ve been sitting there for two hours, calmly waiting for the boy to wake up after recovering from the initial panic over the thought of something seriously wrong with him. The only noise in the room was from the ticking clock on the opposite wall to you, as well as the occasional sound of magazine pages being turned.

“Y-Y/N…?” The quiet sound of Luke calling out your name pulled you out of your thoughts, and you looked up from the magazine in your hand. “Where are we?”

“The hospital,” you answered promptly. You watched as the Hermes cabin counselor looked down at the item in your hand, then back up at your face again. 

“Well, you seem awfully calm. Not even worried at all about me?” You almost chuckled at his words, slightly in disbelief that even after getting knocked out, Luke somehow still had the energy to joke.

“Nah, the doctor told me you were going to be fine. Apparently, it was the mild concussion from knocking your head against the tree that made you pass out. Said you’d be up in like three hours or so.” Luke nodded as he remembered the chimera shoving him, causing him to bash his head against a tree. The boy sat up on the hospital bed, and you helped him by adjusting his pillow so he could lean against it.

“So you would have cared otherwise?” He gave you a teasing grin. Things like that had you thinking sometimes if he was just being playfully flirty or if he meant more. Luke does not seem to do this with anybody else at camp. But once again, you ruled out the theory of him having feelings for you in that way. 

“Only because I would not have anybody else to harass if you die,” You poured Luke a glass of water and handed it to him. He only smiled at your witty reply and took a sip of water. However, you took the opportunity to be honest, just so he’d at least know that you do care about him, despite the sarcastic remarks before.

“On a serious note, though… I’m glad you’re okay, Luke,” you sent Luke a sweet smile. Though there it was again — that look. However, for some reason, he didn’t whip up a clever, flirty line to joke around, which made you wonder what was on his mind.

Meanwhile, Luke felt as if his lungs had lost half its capacity. Gods, under the moonlight, you looked ethereal. It made him wonder for a second whether he was in a coma because you felt too good to exist in this ever-so-cruel world. Don’t even get him started on the way you were smiling at him, so sweet like caramel that his eyes were tracing to forever remember. He internally sighed, wondering how many more signs must he give out before you would get that he was genuinely interested in you.

You misinterpreted Luke’s look as one of vulnerability. Your brain theorized that maybe he was shaken from the chimera attack, so you slowly but surely grabbed his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. However, you didn’t notice the slight hitch in Luke’s breath as soon as you did this. His eyes almost fluttered shut at how nice it was to have your hand around his. If he could hold your hand every day, he absolutely would. You started rubbing your thumb on his knuckles as well. Oh, to be somebody you found worth worrying about and caring for. Luke thought maybe he did win the lottery after all. He could feel his heart wanting to crack his ribcage open to jump out of—

Unexpectedly, you heard a sudden continuous beeping from one of the equipment nearby and looked at it. Luke followed your gaze, and his face immediately started flushing over the drastic change in the heart monitor’s graphic representation of his heartbeat. The beeping still continued when you looked back at him with evident concern on your face.

“Woah, are you alright?” Luke tried muttering an affirmative answer but froze when you leaned closer and lightly graced his forehead with your hand. The boy gulped while you were cluelessly trying to see if he was coming down with a fever or not — which you assumed he was due to the way his face seemed to have warmed up. However, you were greeted with a normal body temperature and the sound of the heart monitor beeping even faster.

Suddenly, everything clicked. You cast your gaze on Luke again, tilting your head in amusement.

“Am I making you flustered?” Luke’s cheeks flared even more at your words. The Hermes cabin counselor looked away from you, taking his hand out of yours now as he attempted to slow down his heartbeat. However, you immediately took hold of his face and moved it back towards you. A mischievous grin grew on your face as you took in Luke’s blushing. How could you pass up the opportunity to finally torment him and get him flustered, especially when he has been doing the same thing to you for the past years?

Luke watched as you had him wrapped around your fingers both figuratively and literally, smirking as if you knew you had entire control over him. But he knew you only knew the surface level of it because even he doesn’t know the extent to which he would go for you. The only thing he knew was that he was in deep, deep trouble. He knew whatever part of him that was logical would perish as soon as you let him be yours. Yet he did not seem to mind discarding all his senses and submitting to whatever these feelings were.

“Careful there, Castellan, keep looking at me like that, and I might just have to believe you’re secretly obsessed with me.” You were only joking, but the way his eyes fluttered when you said that made you gulp. 

“And what if I tell you I am?” At his words and the sound of his heartbeat speeding up on the heart monitor, you froze. 

It was as if all the clues had come crashing down at once. It finally sunk in for you that perhaps you were wrong this whole time for thinking Luke was not into you. Because now, this hospital room had somehow become a crime scene filled with evidence of his feelings for you - the way he was intensely looking at you with dilated pupils, the uncontrollable speed of his heartbeat that you could feel where your fingers lay near his neck and pulse point, his shallow and nervous breathing, the beeping sound from the heart monitor that would make others think it has gone haywire, and most of all, the earnest and resigned look on his face as if he had already embraced the fact that his feelings for you would not change whether or not they would be reciprocated.

Your hand left his face to brush his dark curls. Your eyes cast down at his lips quickly before looking back up. You noticed the yearning in his eyes and how he copied your actions. 

“...Can I?” Luke uttered breathlessly as if all the air in his lungs had been replaced with pure, relentless wanting. Even as a victim of heavy longing and subjected to desire, Luke still awaited the green light. His eyebrows slightly scrunched as if silently asking for permission, and you knew exactly what he wanted when he glanced down at your lips again. 

One tiny nod from you, and he pulled you in. His hands delicately held the sides of your face as your lips clashed. Almost instantly, Luke felt as if he might flatline soon from the way your kiss was seemingly sending him into a cardiac arrest. He practically melted as you giggled into the kiss when the heart monitor started beeping even more frequently, indicating Luke’s increasingly erratic heartbeat. Something about this moment felt so urgent yet endearing like a long-awaited wish come true.  

Slowly but surely, he wrapped his hands around your waist and pulled you up onto his hospital bed effortlessly, as if desperately needing you to just be closer to him. You both somewhat laughed at this before you wrapped both arms around his shoulders without breaking the kiss. 

One of your hands started playing with his hair. You were not sure why but you pulled it and almost instantly, Luke had to break away from the kiss as a raspy groan escaped his lips. Your other hand on the side of his face and neck could feel the way it echoed as a hum in his throat, and you gulped at your effect on him.

Luke licked his lips as he stared at you again. He came to the conclusion that after that kiss, you were wrong that he was obsessed with you. Instead, he was everything above that - devoted, fervently fixated, infatuated, an addict who shamelessly wanted and needed you. Gods, maybe he was a madman when it came to you.

Your eyes flickered to the clock nearby and noticed it was 4:41am, realizing there was just enough time for the two of you to leave the hospital and catch the next bus back to camp. That prompted you to whisper, “I think we should leave now. If we do, we’ll be on time for the next bus.” Luke groaned at your words while you hopped off the hospital bed and grabbed your jacket. The boy unhooked himself from the heart monitor, though his eyes lingered on it for a bit while a smile grew on his face. 

“Why the rush?” He asked, grabbing his own jacket before opening the door for you.

“Cause as lovely as that was, I don’t want to make out again in a hospital,” Luke froze before grinning at your words.

“Oh, does that mean it might happen again? Us making out?” He asked, watching as a cheeky smile grew on your face despite you opting to just shrug at his question. You fanned your hand out before him, smiling even more when he put his hand in yours. 

With that, you led him out of the hospital hand in hand while he grinned like a fool behind you.

Honestly, Luke would blindly go anywhere you lead him.

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

masterlist

join my Luke Castellan taglist

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[sugarlywhispers]

a.n; SMUT, oral sex (fem receiving), izuku is pussy-drunk because we know no other izuku than the one who LOVES eating pussy. lol i had an izuku itch that needed to be scratched so here it is *wink wink*<3

You and Midoriya Izuku have been friends for a long time now. He's such a good friend, always attentive, kind, funny and respectful. Yet he becomes cheeky, flirty and sometimes sarcastic when there's more trust in your friendship.

Friendship. It's just friendship. You have to remind yourself of that everyday. Push your stupid little –strenuously huge– crush on him very deep inside and lock it away. He's fucking Number One, Pro Hero Deku. How could you not have a fucking crush on him?

Still, when he gave you the opportunity to be friends, you didn't doubt it. You dug your feelings very deep and just accepted what he gave you; a funny, sincere friendship that you honestly didn't want to ruin. Especially because Izuku was also very intentional in watering this friendship with you.

It got to a point where you even slept in each other's places with complete normalcy sometimes. He had clothes in your closet for when that happened, and vice-versa. Izuku even talked to you about the dates he went on, and so did you.

He even held your head after a hard night out with friends, where you found the guy you were in a “relationship” with snogging another girl. Too much alcohol trying to bury what you have witnessed and an ugly date with the toilet as you threw up. Izuku held your hair back and caressed your back with patience and care that early morning. Even dried your tears and hugged you through the feelings. No, you didn't love the guy, but you could have if he hadn't been a fucker.

No one would ever fit into the standard Izuku had made you build around men. But you had to try and find, considering that the main standard was not interested in you that way, and would never be.

It's exactly why, here you are. Waiting in your car after texting said man “oi!, i'm here!”, after he expressed that he has had an awful week and was so stressed he could throw a train towards the sky, up to the atmosphere. Holy fuck. The imagery made you laugh at the moment, but also sent a shiver down your spine at his tone because damn, he was so frustrated and angry. So, you didn't doubt it. Told him to get ready, that you would pick him up in 20 minutes to take him out.

There was no other intention other than pamper him, help him distract his mind from all the troubles that stressed him. Like a friend would.

It had been a lovely night, filled with lots of laughter, jokes and accomplished smiles that felt too normal by then.

You suddenly feel his eyes on you, his body directing his attention towards you as you ride the car, softly mumbling to a well known song that it's playing.

“What?” You ask a moment later, stopping right in front of Izuku's building and looking back at him.

“I just realized… You took me out to dinner. We had ice-cream as dessert and even some cocktails after. You drove and paid for it all. And now you took me back home…”

You snort, “And? What's the problem with that?”

You are a bit confused, especially because he's talking looking dead serious, like he has come to a realization that makes him even imagine in his head whatever it is that he is thinking. Jesus, even his eyes look so determined and shiny it makes you feel weirdly nervous.

But of course, you were not expecting at all what he said next.

“Do I have to suck you off?”

You look directly into each other's eyes for a full minute. Death silent. Song playing in the background. A car passes, its light making Izuku's face become clearer and exposed for the second it took until it drove away. Both your breathing suddenly heard loud inside your car. 

And then you both laugh your hearts out. Almost to the point of crying.

It's so ridiculously funny. The way Izuku asked it was so sure and ready for it and also keeping a serious tone. This type of humor with him has become so funny and comfortable to portray, you can't help but to answer back, “I mean… if you want to.”

You obviously mean it as a joke. It's not the first time you joke with double meaning in your words. It has become normal by now between you two.

Yet Izuku suddenly stops laughing. Again looking dead serious as you slowly come back from your laughter. You clean a small tear that threatens to fall from your left eye as you look at him. His expression is... alert, attentive; eyes are on you, shining, waiting, excited. And as time passes, you realize with a quiet and small gasp; he wants to suck you off.

Next thing you know, you’re sprawled over Izuku’s big and expensive couch, your jeans and panties thrown around somewhere in his living room. Legs open, exposed, as Izukus delves into the taste of your cunt. Both his hands, callous and a bit raspy due to his injuries and in contrast to your soft skin, hold you down by the waist as his mouth doesn’t even separate a millimeter from its place, tongue dancing all around your very wet pussy. 

His eyes are closed and he lets a few grunts here and there that travel up in your body and make you shiver in pleasure, followed by a tongue movement that makes you roll your eyes back. He's fucking enjoying having you like this.

Finally.

[theemporium]

Could you possibly write something for Nico where he dates shy reader and he is all lovey dovey with her post game win when they celebrate together? Perhaps she wears his jersey? Thank you for considering. 🫶🏻

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to support Nico, it was more so the fact the games were a lot more intense and intimidating when you were in person.

You watched every game without fail, though usually it was from the comfort of your own couch whilst you were buried in one of his hoodies. And despite what people assumed, he didn’t mind. He knew you supported him. He knew that the second the game was over, you would be on the phone to him to tell him exactly what you thought of the game, always complementing the way he played regardless of whether the Devils won or lost.

And he knew games in person weren’t really your thing. You didn’t like the attention of being sat by the glass and, even though you got along with the other players’ families and friends, it still felt a little intense to be in a suite with them for the whole game. You didn’t like the pressure of having to keep up friendly small talk during the game, but Nico knew you would because you would have felt bad otherwise. 

So, in all honesty, he didn’t mind that you didn’t go to his games. 

But there was something that made his heart want to burst out of his chest on the games you did attend in person. 

“Fuck you, Panthers!” 

Nico huffed out a laugh, shaking his head at Jack’s antics. The boy was already one too many drinks deep into their post-game celebration after—by some miraculous turn of events—thrashing the Panthers on Jersey soil with a buzzing 6-1. 

“You’re gonna get us kicked out,” Nico teased, but the boy didn’t care as he grinned widely at his captain. 

“Give it a break, Cap, go back to making heart eyes at your girl!” Jack snickered, wiggling his eyebrows at the two of you. He didn’t think Nico had let go of you since he had stepped out of the locker room. “We fucking broke the streak! We are allowed to celebrate!”

“Let him have his fun,” you said, your arms tightening to gain your boyfriend’s attention as he tore his eyes away from Jack to look down at you. His gaze softened in an instant and it made your stomach erupt with butterflies. “You all deserve to celebrate the win after the rough streak.” 

“Hm, maybe we won because you were here,” Nico teased, though there was a sincerity in his words that made you think he truly believed his own words. “Wanna come to Montreal with us?”

You snorted, shaking your head. “Today was all you, I had nothing to do with it.”

“I don’t know about that,” Nico said with a massive smile on his lips as his fingers playfully tugged on the hem of the jersey you were wearing. “We lost the last five games until my girl walked in with her lucky jersey on. I think that’s all the proof we need.”

Your cheeks burned as you glanced down at the lucky jersey in question. It was an old jersey of his, maybe one from a year or two ago. He had given it to you near the start of your relationship, when he was leaving for his first roadie since you started seeing each other. You joked about buying some Devils merch to support him whilst you watched the games and he had handed you the jersey the night before he left. You wore it for every game you watched—or at least, you tried to. 

This had been the first game in a while you had worn it since you lost it in the process of moving apartments with Nico, into an apartment big enough for the two of you.

“You hockey players and your superstitions,” you murmured, tucking your chin against your chest to hide how flushed ‘my girl’ made you.

But Nico was one step ahead of you as his hands moved to cup your cheeks, lifting your head until he could look down at your flustered face with a soft smile. “I heard kissing the captain after a win gives the team good luck for their next.”

You laughed and his expression brightened. “Yeah?”

“Mhm, an old hockey legend,” Nico nodded. 

“Well, you gotta kiss him now!” Jack exclaimed from the other side of the table. “We need the luck!”

You laughed harder as you wrapped your arms around his waist once again and grinned up at him. “I think I can get behind that superstition.”

And Nico barely gave you a chance to finish your sentence before he leaned down to kiss you, his smile pressed against yours.

.

[dovesdreaming]

Domestic life

A morning spent with Deadpool involves corny jokes that are full of love

Warnings: none

-

You’d never imagined that your life would take such a wild turn. Growing up, you were the quiet one, the person who preferred books to people and silence to chaos. So how on earth you ended up in a relationship with Wade Wilson, Deadpool of all people, was still a mystery. But here you were, standing in your tiny kitchen, watching as Wade made a mess of what was supposed to be breakfast. Pancake batter was splattered on the walls, and he was wearing his signature red and black suit, minus the mask, with an apron that read Kiss the Cook. “Wade, you’re getting pancake mix everywhere” you said softly, trying to hide the smile that was tugging at your lips. “Babe, if I’m not making a mess, am I really cooking?” Wade quipped, flipping a pancake with a flourish. It sailed through the air and landed on the floor with a wet splat.

You bit back a laugh, shaking your head as you bent down to pick up the rogue pancake. “I think you’re supposed to use a pan, not the floor”. Wade grinned, not even slightly fazed by his culinary failure. “What can I say? I’m a rebel. Besides, we both know you like it when I get a little messy”.

Your cheeks flushed at his words, and you turned away, hoping he wouldn’t notice. But of course, he did.

“Oooh, there it is,” Wade teased, abandoning his pancake massacre to come over to you. He wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, pulling you close and resting his chin on your shoulder. “That adorable little blush. My favourite”. You squirmed in his grip, but there was no real effort behind it. As much as Wade could overwhelm you with his relentless energy and constant quips, you couldn’t deny how much you loved the way he made you feel. special, seen, loved.

“Wade,” you mumbled, feeling your face heat up even more as he nuzzled against your neck, planting playful kisses along your skin. “Wade what?” he murmured against your ear, his voice low and teasing. “Wade, you’re the most amazing boyfriend ever? Wade, I can’t believe how lucky I am to have you? Wade, your pancakes are terrible, but you’re still the love of my life?”. You laughed despite yourself, leaning into his embrace. “Maybe all of the above”. “Damn right”

he said with a grin, spinning you around to face him. His eyes softened as he looked at you, and for a moment, the chaos that was Wade Wilson faded into something much gentler. “You know I’m crazy about you, right?”. The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, and you nodded, your shyness returning in full force. “Yeah… I know. I’m crazy about you too, even if you drive me insane”. Wade’s grin widened, and he pulled you in for a kiss, one that was surprisingly tender considering it was coming from him. You melted into it, feeling the warmth of his affection wrap around you like a blanket, shielding you from the outside world.

When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’m never letting you go, you hear me?”. Your heart swelled at his words, and you reached up to cup his face, your thumb brushing gently over the scarred skin. “I’m not going anywhere, Wade”. He smiled, a real, genuine smile that made your heart skip a beat. “Good. Because I don’t know what I’d do without my favorite shy little love muffin”. You couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculous nickname, shaking your head. “You’re impossible”. “But you love me,” Wade said, leaning in for another kiss, his lips brushing lightly against yours. “I do,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, but the words carrying all the weight of your feelings.

And as he kissed you again, you realized just how much Wade had changed your life. He brought chaos into your world, turned everything upside down, and yet… you wouldn’t have it any other way. Because despite the craziness, the mess, and the constant stream of quips, Wade made you feel like the most important person in the universe. And in the end, that was all that mattered.

[badaziraphaletakes]

Making jokes and laughing about a frightening experience does NOT mean someone does not appreciate the gravity of a situation. Quite the contrary, in fact - it is a very, very common way of processing trauma.

In fact, I can't offhand think of any traumatized people I know who haven't make a joke about their traumatic experience/s. It's a deeply normal, human thing to do.

(And please don't try to tell me Aziraphale seeing Crowley be kidnapped and then being hit over the head with a crowbar (?), violently kidnapped himself, and dragged to hell, and then seeing the awful people and place Crowley had been stuck with for the past 100k+ years, witnessing the usher being murdered in cold blood before his eyes, and wondering if the same thing might happen to him, and/or if he hell was going to discover his and Crowley's secret, not to mention seeing for probably the first time what exactly the thermos of holy water would have done to Crowley if he'd used it, wasn't traumatic. First of all, that just is. Second of all, look at his irises. He was probably having a bit of fun - not surprising considering how relieved he was that the holy water didn't work on him and hell appeared not to have caught onto the deception; of course you'd be a bit giddy - but he was also terrified and scarred and angry and disgusted and I don't even know what else.)

There's a reason the rates of depression found among comedians are off-the-charts. And it's not because humor causes depression (we know it actually alleviates it). It's because traumatized people and people with mental illness (I mean, the Venn diagram between those groups is basically a circle, but y'know) gravitate to humor. It is one of the most powerful weapons we have to ward off despair. Humor can save us when nothing else can.

It can also stop you from wanting to punch someone when you're really, really angry. I propose that we can see smoldering contempt and fury and outrage and disgust on Aziraphale's face at the end of the scene, hidden just under that cheeky grin. It's some masterful acting work by Tennant, so many emotions going on at the same time.

Also - may I point out that Crowley loved Aziraphale's jokes about the whole thing. Aziraphale knows how to cheer Crowley up. A big part of the reason he was so sarcastic in hell was for Crowley, to score some points against the people who have been oppressing him for millennia without him ever being able to answer back. (And also he was acting that way because he figured it was how Crowley would act and he had to be convincing. If he'd gone in there and hadn't been 100% confidence and swagger, hell would have noticed something was off. They're paranoid, and Beelzebub, at least, is smart. No flies on that one. Heh, heh. Did Aziraphale overplay it a bit? Maybe. But the deception worked, so clearly his approach was correct overall.)

And finally: Don't tell me Crowley wasn't having a little fun with all this, too. His laugh on the bench was sincere:

He could arguably also be accused of overplaying it a bit with the neck cracking (which I don't blame him for; I would have done the same - but I don't see anyone getting mad at him for having a little fun the way they did with Azi):

And he LOVED getting to breathe fire at Gabriel & Co.

Which is exactly as it should be. :)

[orionremastered]

Anon here! I just saw that your requests are open for Batfam? If you’re still taking requests can you do a regency era Damian Wayne x reader. If you don’t want to do Damian I wouldn’t mind any of the batboys!

xxx

I am always taking requests (they're for my sanity) except for the next three days because I'm on a plane, busy, or sleeping :/

(for this fic, they are Bruce's biological kids) (not completely historically accurate. like at all. but i tried)

Masterlist

Jason Todd x (probably fem due to the law back then unless you want to dream that being gay was allowed in 1817 (some sources also state that lesbianism was never illegal, but I don't know for sure. Just found it interesting))!Reader

Regency Era AU

The poor man is being swarmed by potential— and in all honesty, very desirable— women and their family members who are desperate to introduce the most suitable option for his wife from their family line. Constantly ignoring beginnings of phrases such as "this is the honourable—" and "perhaps you would like to be introduced to my lovely daughter—", and with each one his jaw ticked.

You hide your smile behind your fan, gazing at him from across the ballroom. It is the marriage season and your childhood friend clearly hated it. But that was expected of him as the second son of Bruce Wayne, Duke of York and member of the royal family. Especially since the duke's eldest, Marquess Richard, had recently married a young woman, Marchioness Barbara.

Locking eyes with the green you have known for so long, you tap the top of your open fan. I wish to talk to you.

With abundant relief, he shoos off one particularly frustrating Earl and almost rushes to be by your side. "Thank you," he says sincerely, a smile stretching his face.

"Why do you not wish to talk to them?" you inquire, Jason's smile dropping subsequently. "They are fine young women, after all."

"They're boring," he sighs, "I do not wish to be married to someone who's personality is dull."

"They're not dull," you chide, and he raises a brow. "They are just taught to be agreeable and respectful, my Lord."

"If I asked them about my theory of a novel I am reading, they would simply say, 'Well if you think so, it must be true' and not..."

"Something like I'd say?"

"Exactly."

You suspect it's a common theme with the Waynes; they're seemingly more inclined to look for a spouse that challenges their opinions and joins them in their love of science— the recently wedded Wayne couple bonded over their love of physics, in fact. A quality like that in a women was usually seen as undesirable.

When you were younger and your father made you visit the Waynes, you learned about sciences that your father would've frowned upon; even the daughters, though there were only two, enjoyed the conversations like you did. With Jason and the youngest son, Damian, you would have lengthy conversations about the novels you were reading altogether; these conversations happened so often that their father was tired of having three copies of every novel he owned.

"I have an idea," Jason says, straightening to his full height beside you— tall enough for you to need to tilt your head up if you wanted to look him in the eyes (you always did— something that beautiful was designed to be looked at). "What if you and I get married?"

"You can't be serious."

"Why wouldn't I be?"

You consider him for a moment— you really do— and see no sign of a lie or joke behind his offer. And now that you think about it, it wouldn't be terrible. It was better than your father marrying you off to some old man you didn't know.

Or weren't attracted to.

"Usually there's a dance or two before the proposal," you point out almost teasingly, "And then courtship. For at least a few months. Don't forget, a man should dance with multiple women before deciding who he wishes to wed—"

"Fine," he sighs, rolling his eyes. Yet a small grin remains on his face. "Would you like to dance, then?"

"Hmm, let me think—"

Jason pointedly fake-yawns while playfully glaring your way.

"I would appreciate a dance, yes." And with that, he leads you to the centre of the ballroom, passing his father who watches the two of you with confusion as you begin to dance.

"Are they—"

"Relax, dear," his wife Selina interrupts while lightly leaning against him, also watching the two of you dance, a smile on both of your faces as you whisper quiet yet teasing words to each other. "Don't tell me you couldn't see it before?"

Her husband's silence answers for him.

[gatitties]

can you make a scenario where saitama accidentally makes his s/o cry and he just panicking and tryin to calm down or makes his s/o laugh (But do whatever seems right in ur opinion!)

Please and thank you!

─Saitama x reader

─Summary: Luck is not on your side today, you just hope you can rest and return home but it seems that you are more sensitive than you seem when Saitama makes a joke, don't worry, he is still your personal hero.

─Warnings: none

It wasn't a good day for you, the alarm clock didn't ring because Satama broke it ─again─ and as a consequence you arrived late for work, getting scolded by your boss. As if that were not enough, the rest of the work was a bit of a disaster, your body did not seem to react correctly to the stimuli and you were clumsier than normal.

When you returned home you couldn't buy your favorite sweet, you had hoped that the food would make your day a little better, but the disappointment of not finding your favorite dessert only made you sink deeper into your misery, you stepped in a puddle, dirtying some of your pants favorites, a cat scratched you when you tried to pet it, you stepped in a dog's poop when turning a corner...

You were accumulating a lot of things that drained your mood to a minimum, the only thing you hope is to get home and for Saitama to shower you with love, hugs, kisses on your face… any show of affection right now would improve your day, you didn't expect that could get worse, but you thought about it too quickly.

You know that Saitama is quite sincere and gets straight to the point of the matter, so he doesn't usually soften his words when he speaks ─something he's working on improving just for you─, today he didn't mince a word when speaking as soon as you walked in the door.

"Honey, you stink, did you bathe in poop?"

Saitama's purpose was just to mess with you, he just wanted to say something funny that would make you smile when he saw your discouraged face, since sometimes you mess with each other making jokes, if you had had a normal day you would have laughed and returned him the joke, but that was not the case today.

He turned around when he didn't hear a response from you, a feeling of guilt stuck in the pit of his stomach as he saw how some tears escaped your eyes, he rushed to your side to grab you by the shoulders and pull you closer to him in a hug, he caressed your back gently while you stained his shoulder with snot.

"He-hey, you know I was joking, right? Even if you woke up tomorrow as a worm, I would still love you."

Sobbing a little more before laughing lightly, your breathing hitched due to a strange cry and laughter at your partner's unexpected comment, he began to panic when he saw how you wouldn't stop crying, at this point you were just letting everything that you endured during the day out.

It wasn't until long minutes later where Saitama was racking his brain thinking about what to say to make you feel better that you stopped crying. He still looked at you worried, considering the options of making you tea or giving you a tranquilizer to calm you down, but he discarded the ideas when he saw how you regained your composure, he sat you down and stayed next to you rubbing your back for a couple more minutes, silent so as not to force you to speak until you felt ready.

"I'm sorry for making a scene over something so stupid, I just had a bad day."

"No, it's okay, at least you feel better now, right?"

"Yes, thank you Saitama."

With a new, much more cheerful mood, you lay down on Saitama hoping that at least your sleep would not be interrupted while you snuggled with him, nothing could go wrong tomorrow if it was your day off.

[thesiltverses]

so i know that the silt verses is approaching its series finale, and i have (allegedly) made peace* with this inevitability. however.

.....is there any chance you guys could be bribed into.... not.... ending the show.... 👀 like i'm not trying to say my mother-in-law makes THE best lemon squares and butter tarts in all of ontario, but i'm also not NOT saying that.

the best confectionary goodness you've ever tasted in exchange for more silt verses, what do u say

*i may still be in the bargaining stage of grief, actually

(also all of this is a joke!! hahaha! unless 👀)

Hahaha, your mother-in-law sounds awesome, and her sweet treats sound delicious!

I know this is a joke (unless 👀), but to answer it sincerely: like most kids, I used to love building Lego. Great towering mangled constructions. And you always got to a point where it was almost finished, probably finished - but the temptation persisted to keep building. Perhaps one detail more? One extra addition, make it taller, make it bigger? And then you'd try and jam another brick on and the whole thing would fall off-balance or collapse into pieces.

And then you had a reckoning with yourself; you'd spoiled your own work because you didn't know how to stop.

When it comes to the world and story of TSV, I of course feel the temptation to keep jamming on more bricks, but I also know what we'd be risking.

Whether it's mainstream TV shows or indie audiodramas, I think there are very few multi-season serials that are universally agreed to stick the landing of their final season; almost every single longform show is popularly considered to have some dropoff in quality or some kind of disappointment in how it handles its ending (even The Wire, Breaking Bad, The Sopranos).

Contrarily, there are a great many shows that are universally accepted to have persevered on long after they should have ended, or to have taken a total dive into a hole they couldn't get back out of.

That's just the nature of longform storytelling - it's ludicrously hard to wrap up in a satisfying way, it's much too easy to keep adding more bricks instead.

We're not done yet, of course, and no matter what I'm sure there are people who will come away feeling that this season was a disappointing ending to the series because it didn't do X or it did Y (and some of that will be totally justified, some of that will be subjective, and some of that is again just the inevitable cost of trying to end a long and complicated story).

But I'm really, really grateful and relieved that we've had some very kind and enthusiastic feedback on S3 so far, and I feel incredibly proud of us and our cast for some of this season's episodes and performances which I think do arguably count amongst our best work.

That feels like a very rare and a very fortunate place to get to end things on, and I wouldn't ever want to risk spoiling that by continuing to over-extend ourselves.

(And equally, I'm just excited to have the chance to make something else next!)

[vikkirosko]

Hello! I would like some headcanons for Ben Drowned, Eyeless Jack, Homicidal Liu and Ticci Toby with a female reader (platonic if possible) who is very affectionate with them.

Platonic headcanons Affection

🪓Ticci Toby x fem!Reader 🥞

Anyone who saw you and Toby could safely call you best friends. You spent a lot of time together and for the rest it has already become something of a joke. Every time Toby came back after another task, he immediately went to you and you were glad, because you missed him a lot, and even if he came in blood, you were still glad to see him

Toby was very attached to you, especially when his anxiety got the better of him. His tics didn't bother you and you felt calm when he was next to you. You were as attached to him as he was to you. You both helped each other feel calmer, as if there were no traumas and horrors that happened in your lives all the time

When he started having active periods of tics, you were always ready to be around, even when his teammates couldn't stand his company. From the outside, it looked like Toby was pissing you off so much that you just started ignoring him, but you both knew that wasn't the case

No one understood why you were so attached to Toby, but he was glad that he had a friend like you. You were the one with whom he could share all his worries and worries. You were a support for each other, who helped each other not to go completely crazy

🎮 BEN Drowned x fem!Reader 💧

BEN was the one who was by your side very often. He could often get out of your phone, especially if you needed to go somewhere, and you were grateful to him for that. You were very attached to him and could safely call him your best friend, which made BEN grin

It didn't matter to you whether you were at home or on the road. If you had any of the equipment, then you could be sure that BEN was there. You played video games, chatted late into the night. He knew a lot about you, including the fact that when he wasn't around, you started to feel uncomfortable and anxious

Although not everyone admitted it, BEN was sincere towards you. You saw him as a person, not just a ghost who appeared from various gadgets, in the distorted guise of a video game hero. He really considered you his friend, a friend who was not afraid of what he was doing and who he was connected with. A friend who wasn't afraid of being a ghost

For you, BEN was the one who gave you a sense of peace. You knew you could trust him with your worries and problems. Perhaps you were too attached to him, but so far it suited both of you, neither you nor he planned to change anything in your relationship

🗡 Eyeless Jack x fem!Reader 🥩

Jack wasn't someone who usually made friends. He caused a sense of unease even among those who often dealt with him. But for some reason you were next to him, you called him a friend, and even when he came in blood, bringing with him prey in the form of someone's kidneys, you did not run away in fear. You were genuinely attached to him and considered him your friend, which, surprisingly, was mutual

You never interfered in his affairs, realizing that you couldn't help him with his hunting and you weren't sure that you wanted to participate in it. Instead, you waited for him. He didn't come to your house all the time, but he was a frequent visitor there. If someone found out about this, they would think that he was using you and your house became a refuge for him, but you knew that this was not the case. Jack never threatened you or lied on you. He was genuinely interested in your life

Sometimes you thought about what happened to Jack, that he became like this, but you never asked. You knew it could be a topic that shouldn't have been brought up, so you kept quiet. Jack could have asked you about your life, because he didn't know about your family or your daily life. He couldn't calmly go for a walk with you, because someone like him would stand out a lot. You were content with what you had

Jack didn't think that after he stopped being human, he would have a real friend. He didn't understand why you were so attached to him, but he liked the idea that there was a person who was worried about him. He knew he would never hurt you. Jack wasn't going to put you in danger. Next to you, he felt normal again, as much as possible

🪡 Homicidal Liu x fem!Reader 🧣

Liu sometimes missed his normal life. He used to have friends, but now he lived a completely different life. But even in this life, he had a friend. It was you. You weren't connected to the murders, but you knew what he was doing. That's why he didn't understand even more why you were so attached to him

Every time he came to you, you greeted him with a sincere smile, offered him to eat with you and just let him relax in your house. Liu was in no position to turn down such an offer, much less a good company. He knew that if you wanted to, you would have told the police about him a long time ago, but so far you've met him like an old friend

Liu enjoyed spending time with you. Thanks to you, it was like he was going back to his normal life. You could watch a movie together, you told him about your day and if there was anything interesting. It was as if there was no blood on his hands and he would not kill again at night

He treasured his friendship with you and wanted you to continue to interact in this way. It was not so easy for him to find friends who would accept him for who he is, and therefore the fact that you were in his life made his existence better

[fatuismooches]

I was just thinking and like... pet names that Dottore would use? Are you kidding me??

Like, when he's teasing, he would use something like "Doll" to just make sure you know he's playing around. Just a little doll to play with.

"Don't make that face, you know I'm just joking, doll."

But if it was a more serious thing? He strikes me as a "my love" kinda guy. Or even "dearest" occasionally.

"Good morning, my love."

"Are you hungry, dearest?"

I like to think occasionally if he's busy and/or needs alone time he just pulls off his gloves, walks over to reader, cups their cheeks and

"Honey, sweetheart, light of my life, would you like to spend some time around the segments? Thank you, I love you."

RAAAAAAH HE MAKES ME INSANE

Although Dottore uses pet names a lot more frequently than his younger selves did (they still cringe a bit at it) of course he rarely ever uses them to fully or truly be romantic. There are times when cute ones like "my (be)love(d)/dear(est)" slip out without much thought, or perhaps you're especially vulnerable and need something more soothing. Whenever these moments happen, they never fail to be endearing and warm your heart, considering how foreign it feels to hear such things come out of that man’s mouth. You never get quite used to it and he most definitely abuses this.

…But a lot of time he uses them to rile you up or tease you, to see your expression change every couple of seconds at his sheer audacity. He finds it very amusing to see you chew on your lip, struggling to find the words to quip back like you normally do when bantering. It’s an experiment of sorts for the scholar(s). (Because the older segments also tend to partake in this to gather results.)

Dottore also loves to tease you with darling. He tends to stretch the word out too, dragging it out as he purrs it into your ear, in a very successful attempt (much to your dismay) to get you to calm down whenever he needs to - you can't be mad at him anymore when he goes into that tone, can you?

It’s also really obvious when Dottore's being sarcastic with his pet names like you said… the half-sincere and half-insincerity makes you pout a bit but, you’re not too mad about it. That’s just how he is sometimes. You’ll just go and bother some other segments and let them flirt with you, and then wait a bit for Prime to eventually come back and drag you away.

If you also happen to have any pet names that make you cringe, occasionally he likes to purposely use them on you to see you get embarrassed, laughing at your groans. Unfortunately, you won't be able to get him embarrassed. His main expressions toward your pet names are 1) indifference as he hums in response 2) confusion at something unusual or weird 3) mild annoyance if you continue to call him that weird pet name.

[shepherds-of-haven]

Hi Lena! I remember Chase referring to MC as their 'guaranteed ace in the hole' or something along those lines before they headed out on the bog adventure (sorry, I've forgotten the exact name of the town they get to) - how would the RO's react to a MC who gets uncomfortable when referred to as a fail-safe / guaranteed win / trump card kind of thing, or if MC pulled them to one side and asked them not to say things like that because they weren't comfortable with it / feel they might jinx it? Thanks for all your hard work, the game is amazing!

Hi there, thanks for your question, it's an interesting one!

Blade: I think he would be disconcerted to hear this from MC, and while outwardly agreeing not to say anything like that in the future, he'd feel guilty and conscious of having made them feel the burden of responsibility and over-relying on them too much, so he's probably be a bit distant towards them afterwards (trying to be considerate by not relying too heavily on them/putting pressure on them, which could come off as coldness)

Trouble: "oh shit, sorry, I didn't think about that. But I don't think it'd jinx it, you're MC after all! But I get it, I'll try not to say anything like that again." I think if it were about MC's discomfort, he'd feel a bit guilty, but also like he wished they saw what he saw in them, this total confidence and faith, but he'd ultimately respect their wishes and try not to do anything like it again. If it was more of a superstitious thing, I think he'd challenge them a little bit on it, like "Nah, have more faith in yourself, look at what you did in ____ and _____, after all!" Like trying to hype them up a bit and give them more confidence in a good-intentioned way, which might result in a back-and-forth where he came off as a bit stubbornly asserting his faith in them and wanting them to feel the confidence he feels in them, which could also make MC feel frustrated, like he's not getting it. Ultimately he'd concede and drop the subject, but feel a bit troubled about it after, but not in a way that he'd really articulate unless MC brought it up again!

Tallys: I really don't think Tallys would say anything like this to begin with, because she's already conscious of how it might make MC feel and how she would feel if she were in their shoes, so she tends to avoid making statements like this right out of the gate!

Shery: she'd feel horrifically guilty, lol, and she'd apologize to MC profusely over and over and sort of torment herself about it afterwards, like, I'm just another of the people who depend too much on MC, I never even considered their feelings, I'm a selfish person... So she'd definitely feel a bit subdued by this!

Riel: he rarely makes statements like this unless it's a joke/sincere compliment, so he'd be a bit surprised to hear that MC felt that way. But ultimately he'd just accept it, briefly apologize, and then move on, as with any well-intentioned social gaffe. It makes sense to him why MC would feel that way; it would make sense to him why he would have said otherwise. Very straightforward! It would be pretty much business as usual after that--he's glad that they communicated it to him and then doesn't think too much about it afterward unless they seemed really upset!

Chase: I like to think that he's emotionally perceptive enough to avoid making comments like this to an MC who was obviously uncomfortable with it, but YMMV, obviously, since he says it in the game! If they asked him not to, he'd sort of say something like, "Aw, sunshine, I didn't mean anything like that, you know we all think you're the cat's pajamas, that's all, it's not like we expect you to do anything or be perfect" and would try to explore their feelings about it and why they felt that way. Basically he would just try to clear the air or walk things back to make sure they didn't feel that kind of pressure moving forward or understood that he wasn't implying anything by the statement, then encourage them to just live their life without feeling the burden of these expectations. Then he'd move on and try to be more delicate in the future! Ultimately, he'd get it, he can see how being "the Hero of Haven" would be a lot of pressure!

Red: I think he'd quickly apologize, but would want to know more about why MC was feeling that way, what caused that reaction, etc. So he'd be interested in talking about it with them in more depth. He'd feel bad, of course, that he said something that bothered them, but I think his priorities would be more about understanding their perspective and maybe helping them with their discomfort/complex feelings about the whole thing than dwelling on the specific interaction that kicked it all off, if that makes any sense!

Ayla: I think her initial reaction to this would be defensiveness: she'd be a bit annoyed, because praise and compliments already come so rarely from her, especially being vocalized in front of the subject/other people, so to be "corrected" on something that's already difficult for her would be like, "wtf, I was just trying to be nice, I have confidence in you/I'm telling the truth, it's a proven fact that you're remarkable, what's so bad about that?" Kind of like a, Seriously? I'd kill for people to admire me and have faith in me and actually say so, what kind of person is like, 'Hey, I don't like it when you do that.'? And also hurt because she's trying and doing things that are pretty foreign/unusual for her (being vulnerable and sincere, giving praise), so to be 'punished' for that would make her feel like withdrawing. So outwardly she'd be a bit put-off and shirty about it, like "Okay, sorry, I won't say it anymore." *obviously disgruntled, not gracious and understanding* But I think after calming down or hearing someone else advocate for MC (like Briony going, "Well, I get it... can you imagine if you felt this pressure to save the day every time? MC's just a person, after all..."), it would click for her, she'd feel a bit bad about it, but she wouldn't feel the need to pursue it or apologize further and would just comply with MC's wishes moving forward!

Briony: she'd pretty much be the same as Shery, writhing in guilt and feeling horrible that she didn't consider MC's feelings more, but after they talked about it and she profusely apologized the first time, she'd be able to move on so long as it didn't seem like MC held any hard feelings or awkwardness about it! Ultimately she'd be glad they said something and would be extra vigilant both about herself and about correcting others if they happen to say things like that around MC! Like she'd start feeling protective and maybe over-conscious of MC's feelings!

Lavinet: she would be similar to Riel: because she meant it as praise, she would be surprised to hear that they found it off-putting or intimidating, but she would simply apologize and then move on without doing it again; it wouldn't be something she really dwelled on unless it seemed like it was a really big deal to MC, in which case she might discuss it with them intermittently moving forward, wanting to understand the exact feelings and reasons behind their feelings and wanting to encourage them in resolving them!

Halek: he's pretty much in Tallys's camp: because of his position in life, he'd be more conscious of not saying stuff like this in the first place, because he understands the pressure those kinds of expectations come with, even if they're reverent and well-intentioned! If he slipped and said stuff like that as a joke, then was asked by MC not to say it, he'd apologize and commiserate with them, then keep it in mind moving forward, being careful not to do it again!

[riseoftheangstywriter]

How do you think rise donnie would deal with his s/o starting to call him a tsundere as a term of endearment ?. (Cuz he is a tsundere).

Thank u for the ask!! Here's a little something I wrote on how I think it would play out. Hope you enjoy :))

"You know what y/n?" Leo tells you during one of your many reality tv watching sessions. "Ever since you and Donnie started dating, it's made me realize something... he's such a tsundere, don't you think?"

You turn to look at the slider, head tilting in confusion at the term. "What's a tsundere?"

Within seconds Leo's mouth has dropped considerably. "What?" He pauses the tv. "What do you mean you don't know?!"

As he shakes your shoulders, all you can do is awkwardly smile. "Am I supposed to?"

Leo shakes his head. "I really need to get you into more anime..." He sighs, pulling out his phone. "Don't worry, Leon's got it."

He shoves his phone in your face, and you read the text once your eye's adjust. "A tsundere is a character who switches from being tough and cold towards a love interest into being soft and sweet."

You look at Leo, who's wiggling his nonexistent eyebrows. "See? You can't read that and tell me that isn't describing Donnie."

"I mean, I guess you're right." You hum thoughtfully. "I've never thought about it like that."

Leo's considers your agreement a win, and he grins. "Exactly! I know these things.. it's a twin sense, you feel me?"

You nod, always finding humor in the whole "twin sense" thing when they don't even look remotely alike. They still debated about who was the "older twin" to this day. "Sure."

He nudges you. "Just means you're special, y/n."

His words make you smile. It was relieving to hear that Donnie's brothers thought you were good for him. "Heh. Thanks, Leo."

"Anytime."

After your conversation with Leo, you decide to start messing with Donnie a little bit. It starts off harmless, the first time you call him a tsundere, he reacts as expected, extremely confused (and flustered) because how the hell did you know that word?

He suspects its Leo's doing immediately, but you act clueless, skipping off like it was nothing.

Then you do it again, and again, and again. Now, tsundere has been added to the long list of nicknames you have for the soft-shell. It started off as an innocent joke, but honestly, it was very fitting. Besides, you liked the reaction Donnie had every time. You enjoyed catching him by surprise.

Like tonight, as you depart his lab to head home, you whisper into his ear as you kiss his cheek.

"Goodnight, tsundere." You smile when you hear his breath catch, satisfied with yourself as you turn away, light on your feet.

"Y/n, wait."

You look back to see where you left him, sitting in his chair but facing you.

"Yeah?"

"In the past sixty five days you've called me tsundere a total of twenty eight times."

You weren't expecting that. You cross your arms, interested to see where he was going with this. "Oh, so you've been keeping track?"

He blushes, dismissing your words. "That's not the point. The question is why? Why that word, out of all words? I know Leo taught it to you, so don't even try to deflect."

You think about how to answer, before you settle on the perfect response. You laugh to yourself, smiling.

"I mean, it makes sense right?" You approach him, noticing how he looks you up and down, swallowing. What, was Donnie actually feeling shy? "When I first met you, you were all grumpy and closed off."

You're inches away from him now, and just to show the purpose of your next sentence, you put a finger on his plastron, right over the area that covers his heart. "Who knew I would be the one to peel back those layers to reveal my sweet, lovely partner?"

You knew you had succeeded once Donnie's left a stuttering mess. You've only rendered him speechless a few times, but it never got old.

"If it really bothers you, I'll stop. Promise." You add with sincerity. You had a feeling it didn't, but just to make sure, you say it anyways.

"No." He rushes out immediately. "I-It's fine."

You smile fondly at him. "Good. Well, I should go now."

He nods, but not before he gently takes your wrist and pulls you down, capturing your lips in a sweet kiss.

For a moment he rests his forehead on yours. "I.... like the nickname. It's cute."

The two of you part, and you can't help but get in one last tease. "Guess you'll be hearing more of it then."

Donnie rolls his eyes, but his tone is dripping with affection as he turns back around in his chair. "Bye y/n."

"Bye Donnie." You're almost out the door before departing with "I love you."

You linger just long enough to hear him say "I love you too."

[drivestraight]

Obv no pressure!!!!!!!!! And sorry if it comes off that way ❤️❤️ I was just wondering if u would ever consider posting the 4fic?? Just on tumblr even

i keep forgetting OMG but here is part 1 (4.2k)

THE SET-UP

They don’t do this very often anymore. Hang out, just the four of them.

George, Alex, Lando, and Charles.

To get closer to the truth, it’s not like the four of them ever properly hung out at any point in time, in the strictest sense of the phrase. They’d stream together on Twitch during COVID, yes, and they get on well in the paddock. But that doesn’t exactly count, when George thinks about it. Not even in 2019 did the four of them ever really hang out willingly, outside of work, not even just George, Alex, and Lando, no matter how much media they were shoved into together throughout the year. These past four years, they’ve just all been too busy. Besides, Charles and Lando have their own friend circles. Charles prefers his hometown Monegasque friends. Lando has Max F and Max V and Martin G and Daniel R and Quadrant and—whatever the fuck ever, really.

George and Alex, well. Different case. Not the point.

Even closer to the truth: they had more time and less fame before Formula 1, and they would hang out outside of races. Underage pub crawls, house parties with friends from secondary, even during their F2 season. Which George won, by the way.

So.

Formula 2.

George, Alex, and Lando were close back then despite being competitors. They were the weirdos. No one liked Lando because his dad was rich and bought him a spot in McLaren’s junior academy; no one liked Alex because he was a Red Bull junior and Asian, but not Asian enough; and no one liked George because—he was George.

Jokes on everyone else. They were the winners. They’re the ones who made it to F1.

All this to say: the three of them were close back then, but they’re not as close anymore. Still, good times. They had many good times.

One memory George holds quite dear to his heart is Alex accidentally knocking Lando into a bush that George puked on. Yes, George is quite fond of that night.

But then, that three-way friendship didn’t exactly include Charles at all. All of them were friends and friendly with Charles even in karting, but those days, Charles wasn’t exactly part of their little group. It was just George and Alex and Lando. Or George and Alex.

Which is probably why they’re here, in Charles’ teeny tiny flat. 

/

They were in Spa, the four of them chatting before free practice. Alex had offhandedly asked why they haven’t gone on their little drunken adventures like they used to. Then, Charles made a shocked noise, small and offended, and demanded to be included.

Demanded is probably a strong word. His eyes went wide and curious. He tilted his head to the side and pouted at Alex, then Alex spluttered and said, Of course, you should come!

As if they had tangible plans.

However, they ended up making plans, and it was a miracle that they all had a weekend free in Monaco before Alex fucked off with Lily to Majorca.

/

And it’s not like George doesn’t like Charles.

He likes Charles a lot, actually.

It’s just, sometimes—

All the time.

It’s hard to tell what his humor is. George’ll say something, try to crack a joke, and Charles will look at him with these big, round, open eyes. Not understanding, or worse, understanding, and choosing not to play along.

Not in a, like, malicious way. But in a why did you say that? sort of way. Which is probably worse. He’s always very nice about it, very earnest. But his sincerity knocks George off-guard. Sometimes, George wishes Charles was more like Alex, laughing at everything and playing everything off like a joke just to maintain an ounce of control. Twist things the way he wants them to be twisted.

Right, yes. Charles.

It’s easier with him online. Voice chat. That way, George doesn’t have to see his microexpressions and feel self-conscious, analyzing each of their conversations.

Charles has a very expressive face.

Alex gets on with him a lot better.

He makes Charles laugh, a lot. A lot. And while George has made Charles laugh plenty of times, it’s never actually been on purpose. It is more like—George saying something unintentionally funny, and Charles slowly bursting into giggles, or Lando and Alex making George the butt of the joke and Charles laughing along just because he wants to fit in.

Ah. George needs to be more charitable.

/

Returning to Charles’ teeny tiny flat:

They’ve just gotten back from Jimmy’z. Honestly, George was having a great time: Alex was all giggly on his shoulder sipping on a fruity cocktail and Lando had been up by the DJ stage and Charles was off at the bar chatting with some girl. But then Charles sprinted to them and tugged on George’s arm and said, We need to leave.

So they left.

They found Lando first, of course, floundering as he tried to get this girl’s number. They dragged him out of the club, the four of them squeezed into an Uber, tried to be as polite as possible to the driver, and here they are now:

Charles’ teeny tiny flat. On the floor circled around the coffee table in the sitting room. Lando took the couch because—of course he did.

“So?” Lando demands, frowning. His cheeks are flushed, his curls a mess. “Why’d we leave? I thought the point was to get pissed, and I’m not even.”

George would disagree. But, well.

Charles huffs and crosses his arms over his chest. “I saw someone that I did not want to talk to.”

Alex snorts. He flushes this lovely color of pink whenever he’s drunk, George has noticed. Quite lovely. Very lovely. “Who? An ex-girlfriend?”

Charles kicks lightly at Alex’s thigh. They’re deep into summer, hot, sticky. Alex is wearing these little shorts. Not so little, really, but right now, George can see the meat of his underthigh, muscle hidden.

“Ex-boyfriend,” Charles corrects.

Alex dyed his hair to this auburn shade of brown the other month. George likes it better, like this, if he’s being honest. Obviously, Alex looked amazing as a blond—Alex looks amazing no matter what, but he looks softer like this, not a blond bombshell, alien and out of reach, grabbing everyone’s attention. Instead, just George’s best friend.

“Which one?” Alex asks, propped up on his hands, flat to the ground behind him. His shin hairs tickle George’s. Under the table, George only now realizes, they’re touching.

“Jean,” Charles answers.

“Oh,” Alex says, brows furrowing. Overdramatic. Alex likes being dramatic like that. He looks a little goofy right now. Silly, maybe. “I never liked that guy.”

Charles sighs. “It has been a while, but our breakup was…” He turns to Alex. “How do you say it…”

“A shit show?” Alex supplies, grinning warmly. George feels so warm.

Charles laughs, shoulders coming up to his ears. “Yes, a shit show,” he repeats, the syllables odd and unfamiliar on his tongue, mouth curling emphatically. “He—”

He.

Charles keeps talking.

But George:

“Wait, wait, wait. Your what?”

Charles turns his head to George. Blinks. Slowly. Tilts his head to the side. Confused.

“My ex-boyfriend,” he repeats, like this isn’t earth-shattering information.

George gawks. Mouth open. Jaw unhinged. Eyes bug-wide. The full mile. He glances over at Alex, who looks just as confused as Charles, then Lando, who’s looking down at his phone, disinterested.

Charles blinks again, seeming to understand George’s confusion. “Oh, you don’t…?”

“I don’t what?” George snaps, feeling like he’s just had the rug pulled out from under him. Feeling like the odd one out. For the first time in their little quartet, George feels like the outsider.

“I am gay, George,” Charles deadpans. “Did I never tell you this?”

“Uh,” George says, wincing at how his voice cracks, “no?”

“Oh,” Charles replies, blinking. His mouth parts into a small circle. He bats his eyelashes, demure, and George feels something ugly twist in his belly. “Well. Sorry, I think I forgot.”

George suddenly feels very sober.

“But you—your girlfriend—”

Charles shrugs. “She is a good friend. It is always good to have a public girlfriend.”

Well. This explains a lot.

“Lando,” George starts, head whipping toward him, “did you—?”

“Mmh. I didn’t like Jean either,” Lando replies, still not looking up from his phone.

George makes a noise. “How do you guys know this Jean?”

Alex snorts and rolls his eyes. “George, you know Jean. F2?”

Jean. Jean Jean Jean. George thinks and thinks and—

“Oh,” George says, Jean’s face materializing in his head. George never really talked to him; they ran in different circles and drove for different teams, but George vaguely remembers narrowly missing out on a win because Jean wouldn’t get out of the fucking way when George was trying to lap him. He lost the win by three seconds. To Lando. That’s about all he remembers of the guy. “Wow.”

Charles… dated him.

Suddenly self-conscious about how he’s coming off about this whole thing, George stumbles to clarify, “I mean, mate, obviously I don’t care. It’s not a problem. Like, of course I don’t have a problem, I’m just shocked, mate. I would’ve—”

“Oh, calm down, George,” Alex says, grinning beatifically. “Yes, yes. You’re an ally. You’re teammates with Lewis Hamilton. Love is love. We know. You don’t need to give us a little speech.”

“Sod off,” George mutters, kicking Alex under the table. “Why did no one tell me this?”

“Not my fault you have a stick up your arse when it comes to sex,” Alex jibes, kicking George back. “I think talking about gay sex would’ve given you a heart attack.”

George huffs, cheeks warming. Like, fine. George is self-aware enough to know that he gets a bit dodgy when it comes to sex. But that’s the way he thinks it should be, anyway. “Doesn’t have to be about gay sex, does it?”

“You should try it,” Alex says. “It’s fun. Quite different.”

Charles hums carefully, eyes big and curious, assessing. George feels like he’s being taken apart. “Yes, George. I think it would loosen you up,” Charles says, too sincerely.

From the couch, Lando snickers, chewing on his hoodie drawstring.

Charles frowns and glares at him. “What?”

Ah. Charles hadn’t even caught the double entendre.

Wait.

His head whips to Alex. “You have?” Had sex. With a man. George can’t get any of the words out.

“Oh, c’mon,” Alex says, easy and casual like George’s whole world isn’t falling apart. “You know I like blokes.”

Well, sure. George did know that. He knows everything about Alex. Alex is his best mate, after all. But Alex’s sexuality was an irrelevant, inconsequential little fact that George’d merely hold in the back of his mind. His best mate happened to be bisexual. That didn’t change anything.

“Yeah, I guess,” George admits, “but—Lily?”

“Again,” Alex says, “you know we have an open relationship.”

George laughs nervously. Yes, right. He’d forgotten about that.

He’d honestly—

He doesn’t know. He hadn’t actually thought Alex and Lily were acting on that.

“You’ve never thought about it?” Alex asks. “A little hanky-panky with the lads? Never?”

George chokes. “The lads? Plural?”

Alex waves his hand. “Hyperbole.”

Lando, hoodie drawstring still in his mouth, asks, “What’s that?”

“What’s what?”

“Hyperbowl,” Lando butchers. George isn’t sure how he made it past primary.

“Like,” Alex says, “when you tell your girls on Raya you have an eight inch dick. Hyperbole.”

The drawstring falls out of Lando’s mouth. He sits straight up, inflamed. “I do not tell them I have a—”

“Lando, you have an eight inch dick?” Charles asks, suddenly very interested in the conversation.

Alex snickers. “The point is that he doesn’t.”

Tomato-red, Lando bumbles, “Oh, bugger off. It’s not like you’d know.”

“Anways, George?”

George scratches the back of his head. Is it hot in here? Is it just him or the shitty insulation in Charles’ flat?

He thinks back to the original question and replies, “I cannot say I have thought about it.” He swallows. Because honestly, he hasn’t. He’s, like, twenty-five now. That’s far too old to be having sexuality crises anyway. Still, drunk, and a little too honest for his own good, he starts to ramble, “Like, I don’t think I. I mean. Haha. I am very happy with, er. Women.”

Not like George has been getting much lately, not after his less than ideal breakup with Carmen at the start of the season. And he isn’t like Lando either: going on apps or picking up a girl at the club is, like, his worst fucking nightmare. Rock fucking bottom. He’d rather go celibate than go on Tinder.

“So, like. You know. Men don’t.” God, why is George still talking? “I have my own, er. Likes. And I don’t think that—”

“Oh,” Alex sighs, exasperated, “don’t be such a prude, Georgie. Here—”

Fireworks. Butterflies. Violins.

No, none of that, actually. Just Alex’s mouth. George wouldn’t trade it for the world.

It has been so long since George kissed someone. Since George was kissed by someone.

Alex has a hand cupping his cheek—so tender and gentle that George shivers beneath him. Yes, beneath him. George isn’t on his back, but it’s taking all of his core muscle strength to keep himself somewhat upright with Alex half on top of him and half in his lap, kissing him. Alex, Alexander, Alexander Albon is kissing him.

His tongue runs along the seam of George’s mouth, and with a gasp, George parts his lips, mouth going slack, finally realizing that Alex is kissing him, and he isn’t kissing him back. He’s a bloody idiot, that’s what he is, he thinks, as he surges forward to return the kiss, and—

Ah.

Alex sitting back on his heels, eyes a little wild, mouth pink and slick.

Anticlamactic.

George makes a soft noise, feeling like he’s just been taken apart, disemboweled, ribs in all the wrong places.

It feels like—

Feels like the comedown after Brazil 2022. He got a taste of a win, and now he’ll spend the rest of his life knowing what it feels like to stand on the top of the podium.

Now, he’ll spend the rest of his life knowing what Alex’s lips feel like against his.

It’s not like it was a fantastic kiss, or anything. George has had better. Loads better. This wasn’t even a proper kiss. George hadn’t even managed to kiss back. And it wasn’t like it meant anything either.

It was just Alex.

“Hey,” Charles whines, sounding like he’s pouting. Only sounding like it—George couldn’t possibly know what Charles looks like right now. He isn’t looking anywhere but at Alex. It just isn’t possible for him to take his eyes away. “Why do you kiss George and not me?” 

Lazily, Alex throws his head to the side, looking at Charles. In the meantime George stares at the lovely column of his throat. “Been there done that, Charlie.”

George sucks in a breath.

“Don’t look so jealous,” Alex says, chuckling, his gaze returning to George. George doesn’t even want to imagine what he looks like right now—what Alex sees. “It’s not like you were up for grabs.”

“Ah,” George says, shuddering. It’s just—the way Alex’s voice sounds, the way he’s looking at him—

“Oi, oi,” Lando sounds, swinging upright so that his shoes are finally off the couch and on the ground. “This is getting a bit too gay for me. I’m calling a Lyft.”

“Lando,” Alex laughs, “you are quite literally dating a man.”

Lando, ever prey-like and anxious when it doesn’t matter, blushes and says, “Oh, fuck off. Me and Max aren’t dating. We’re just, um…”

He reminds George of a snapping turtle, in a way: hard-shelled, prickly, and goes through puberty late.

At Lando’s words, Charles’ head rises, which is rather striking, George reckons, since he hasn’t said a word this whole conversation. His face scrunches up, brows furrowed, almost irritated. He’s frowning when he asks, “Lando, you are with Max?”

“Fewtrell,” Alex clarifies.

“Oh,” Charles exhales, tension releasing from his shoulders as Lando blushes an even brighter red and blubbers incoherently.

“Don’t get the wrong idea,” Lando says, flustered and bitchy. “I’m not with Max. Fewtrell or Charles’ Max—”

“Um,” Charles says, looking a little furious, “he’s not my—”

“Whatever,” Lando says, waving his hand vaguely. “Anyway, I’m leaving—mmph!”

Oh, alright then, George thinks, watching as Charles yanks on Lando’s wrist and pulls him down to the floor for a kiss.

Lando yanks himself away, and in the process, bangs his knee on the underside of the coffee table and hisses as he falls onto his back. Clearly still very drunk. Charles is laughing at him. So is Alex, honking and boisterous. George feels too shocked to find the humor in this.

Scrubbing his mouth with the back of his sleeve, he stammers, “What was that for?”

Charles shrugs. His face is pink and filled with glee, eyes sparkling. “Alex wouldn’t kiss me.”

“That’s the only reason why?” Lando asks, lifting a brow.

Charles giggles. “I like you, Lando,” Charles says, like it’s nothing, like Charles Leclerc liking someone means nothing. George wonders what that is like, to be able to say something like that without shame or anxiety. To be able to throw things into the air like that. I like you with the self-assurance to know that it will be well-received. That your attraction will be reciprocated.

“I think you are very cute,” Charles finishes, swaying a little.

“Not cute,” Lando huffs, crossing his arms over his chest, which strangely, George reckons, makes him look cuter. “I’m sexy.”

“Yes,” Charles says, giggling harder, his shoulders rising to his ears, “you are very sexy, Lando.”

“You’ll say anything to anyone,” Alex snorts, watching them with curiosity.

Charles keeps his eyes on Lando when he says, “When I want them in bed, yes.” Lando’s throat bobs, a mouse caught in the trap. Yes, George thinks, that’s what it’s like being looked at by Charles: caught in a trap. “Is that something you would like, Lando?”

“Uh,” Lando squeaks.

“Or will your Max get mad at me?”

Instantly, Lando shakes his head, a bit like a dog coming out of the bath. Doesn’t even make a snippy comment about your Max. 

Charles kisses him again.

It isn’t anything like the last kiss, abrupt and awkward. It isn’t anything like when Alex kissed George either. This one is—

George has to look away, face hot.

“Oh, don’t do that,” he hears from the side.

“What?” George asks, his insides feeling gooey.

“Look,” Alex says, then his hand is on George’s burning cheek, turning it to face Charles and Lando. Lando, who is sitting in Charles’ lap. Charles, who has his hands firmly on Lando’s waist.

George swallows. The room is far too small and the only sounds are the slick-wet sounds of kissing, and heavy breathing. Now that George is looking, he can’t look away no matter how much he wants to. Like a car crash, he thinks absently. Sweat drips down the side of his neck, where Alex’s hand is placed now. George’s whole body feels on fire.

Alex isn’t saying anything. They only—watch. Watch as Charles slides a careful hand under the seam of Lando’s shirt, snaking along his lower back. Lando squeaks and pulls back from the kiss, panting against Charles’ mouth. Desperate, George thinks. They both look a little desperate right now.

More than a little. Faces flushed, clothes wrinkled, making out on the fucking floor in front of a fucking audience.

“It’s kind of late,” Lando mutters, so quietly that George can barely hear him over the sound of his own breathing.

“Yes, ah,” Charles says. Lando crawls off of him, uncoordinated; whatever spell the both of them were under seems to be broken. Charles turns toward George and Alex, his lips swollen, looking thoroughly kissed. His shirt is riding up. Lower: a massive tent in his jeans. George forces his eyes to drift back up to Charles’ face, settling on his mouth. “Maybe everyone should go.” After a beat, he adds, “I am very drunk.”

Lando is avoiding eye contact, playing with his fingers, hands positioned conspicuously over his crotch, inhibitions remembered.

George swallows, his voice hoarse when he says, “We can tell.”

Alex collects Lando off the floor, and George and Charles follow them to the door, silently.

“I’ll get these two home safe,” Alex promises, clasping a hand on both George’s and Lando’s shoulder. Lando bats his hand away.

Leaning against the wall, Charles smirks and says, “You owe me a kiss, Alexander.”

Alex smiles back at Charles. George stiffens at the reminder that Charles has Alex wrapped around his fucking finger, even now. “I’ll pay you back with interest next time, Charlie.”

After that, they start to shuffle out the door, but then Lando, still inside the flat, says, “Charles.”

George and Alex turn around.

Head tilted, Charles asks, “What is it?”

And that’s all he’s able to get out before Lando is grabbing his face and kissing him. Hungrily. Charles makes a shocked noise as he’s backed up against the wall, melting.

It’s a chaste kiss, all things considered. After only a moment, Lando pulls away with a smug smile, and Charles looks—dazed. Kiss-stupid and slack-jawed. George wonders if that’s how he gets when he isn’t in control.

“We should,” Charles starts, throat bobbing as he stares at the three of them in the hall. He licks his lips, cheeks red like his car, and scans each of them with his eyes. “All of us. Again.”

All of us, George thinks. Not just Lando, not just Alex. All of them. All four of them.

“I mean. Only if you all want.”

Charles, George registers, is looking at George. That’s where his gaze has settled. And George realizes that, yes, he is the limiting factor here. Because apparently, a-fucking-pparently, Charles has a history with Alex, and George’s more than half sure that if Charles and Lando were only marginally less drunk than they are, they would have fucked tonight.

Alex and Lando are looking at him too.

What’s the harm if George says no?

No, no. Wrong question.

What’s the harm if George says yes?

He doesn’t want to be the odd one out. What he wants is—

He turns to look at Alex, looking at him with curious eyes. George’s gaze drifts and drifts—Alex’s pink mouth, the shape of it, remembering the feel of it against his own.

George made his decision a long time ago. Charles and Lando—they’re just the implications.

Shuddering, he turns back to Charles, and nods his head.

/

Monaco is small enough that practically everything is just a walk away. Lando’s flat is the closest one to Charles’; George and Alex drop him off. On the way, surprisingly, they don’t chat about what happened back at Charles’ place. Instead, they grill Lando about whatever’s going on between him and Fewtrell, only to get absolutely nothing.

George’s flat is the closest to Lando’s, so Alex walks him back. And they don’t talk at all, at least until they’re outside the front door and George is about to walk in.

“Hey, um,” Alex says, biting his lip. “Tonight was a lot.”

“Yeah,” George admits, finding no use in pretending otherwise.

“So,” Alex starts. “Are you, like, sure? About—getting all together again? I feel kinda bad that like—I dunno. It was kinda like, we were ganging up on you. If you feel pressured in any way, I couldn’t live with myself, so, uh—”

Alex rambles. He’s a rambler. George knows this about him. Alex is a horrible storyteller, always telling the punchline first, then filling in all the gaps. Even then, he always forgets important parts, tells it all non-linearly and it never makes sense to anyone but him.

The truth is, as much as Alex’s blithe, carefree nature obscures, beneath that persona, he does just as much overthinking that George does.

And George—

Perhaps he isn’t as sober as he thought he was, but he feels clear. For the first time tonight, he feels in control. Brave.

He does what he wanted to do earlier, back in Charles’ flat, when Alex pulled away and George surged forward.

He kisses Alex. Mid-sentence, mid-word, mid-apology.

It’s just a peck, really. George thinks that if he properly kissed Alex right now, he might do something absolutely stupid, like drop to his knees and try to blow Alex under the cameras of his building. Even if he’s never done that before, he thinks he’d do that for Alex.

If Alex asked. If Alex wanted. He’s too afraid to ask if that’s what Alex would want.

Alex is smiling at him—and it’s one of his soft smiles. George feels so dizzy and stupid. “Not so straight then, are you?”

Heart hammering, George remembers to be brave. “Probably not.”

Alex licks over his mouth. George wants.

“Alright then,” Alex says, pupils wide. “We’ll talk in the morning? All of us?”

Yes, George thinks. They will.

/

And, against all odds, they do.

[mlmxreader]

The Confession | Kili x gn!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ Hi can I request "Be gentle with my heart, won't you?" with kili please? ❞

: ̗̀➛ You and Kili spend a restless night talking and confession.

: ̗̀➛ trauma

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

You were restless, frankly. Unable to snuggle down beside Kili the way that you usually did and hardly able to get any rest at all; the others were all sleeping in different rooms throughout the expansive inn, and Thorin had told you that you were safe, or at least, he kept trying to reassure you of the fact - he knew the landlord, he knew that they were trustworthy and would not let any harm come to you or anyone else.

Yet you were still on edge, scowling and glaring at anything that made a noise. So tense and ready to jump into action that even the smallest and most insignificant of mice caught your attention and focus without ever meaning to do so.

Kili stirred, pulling his left leg up so that he could rest his forearm on his knee as he looked at you with both worry and suspicion. As his best friend, he had known you for so many years that he could almost read your mind with ease.

Not even a month after Smaug had driven  his people from their home, yours had been attacked; the bandits from the east with roses on their armour and lions on their shields, bearing a white banner with a red cross, saw the opportunity and took it eagerly.

They drove their swords into soldiers and civilians without care, they did not even think twice. They stole the land and murdered communities. In one in particular, the bandits flooded everything; driving people from their homes and causing countless unnecessary death.

They saw the land as theirs, and held onto it with an iron fist after outlawing a language so ancient that even the elves could not speak it. Dragon's tongue. The bandits took everything. You were lucky enough that your family had always been an ally to the line of Durin, and Thorin had allowed you refuge with him.

Kili knew that such a thing had never left you, watching your homeland be ripped and torn for selfishness and greed, he knew that you would always miss the language, the culture, your home.

How could he ever expect you to relax and rest?

He sighed as he ran a hand through his tangled hair, knowing that he had to braid it again in the morning as the ties and binds were becoming rather loose. Putting his hand on your shoulder heavily as he licked his lips and swallowed thickly.

"Do you want to talk?"

You shook your head as you reluctantly spared him a look, guilt and worry in your eyes. "I'm fine."

"You don't look it... quite the opposite," he told you quietly, trying to keep his words hushed. "Do I have to remind you that I can read you like an open book?"

"Be quiet," you huffed, wiping your eyes and surprised to find them quite wet. "I dont want to talk about dead memories that have long been buried."

"You don't have to," Kili softly replied, "but I would like to know when you aren't well in yourself - I care about you far too much to let you keep things to yourself like that."

You began to bite at the inside of your bottom lip, pulling flesh away in little and thin almost see through strands that sat on the tip of your tongue. "I appreciate it, you know I do, but this is merely restlessness and nothing more, I promise."

"Well, considering we're both up, do you mind if I make a confession?" He asked, patient for your reply.

"Go for it," you shrugged, your voice almost a mere hum.

"In all our time we've known each other, I have become very fond," Kili started, "and I know you think I'm joking because of how you're looking at me, but it's true. I do mean it. You can laugh at me all you like, but I do mean it: I love you."

You thought about it for a moment. You could read Kili as if he was an open book left right on your lap and did not and could not doubt his honesty and sincerity; it was in his dark, almost ebony, eyes just as much as it was on the tip of his tongue and the slight smile on  his lips.

But you did not know what to say, as although you did feel the same, you were unsure if you were good enough for him.

You knew that you were colder than most, and that you were always haunted by those days; watching the school where you used to study become submerged beneath the water as the men with roses on their armour laughed, their white banners with red crosses flapping in the wind.

The way they grabbed you and your fellow countrymen, forcing you all to your knees as they pressed swords to your throats; the hammering in your chest as you stared up at them with a scowl. Restlessness came to be an old friend after that day.

You didn't want to put Kili through all of that - through the waking nightmares and the constant harsh and quiet tension and restlessness. Your heart was pounding in your chest, fingers shaking as you shook your head, silently pleading with him.

"Kili, don't..."

"What?" He whispered, furrowing his brows.

"Don't trick yourself into believing that I'm capable of love," you whispered softly, swallowing thickly. "Or that I will do anything except hurt you... please, Kili, don't be a fool."

"I'm not," he responded by gently planting his hand behind you so that he could lean in slightly. "I'm really not. Please, be gentle with my heart, won't you? It's in your hands. I want you to have it."

"You won't stop?" You asked with a soft laugh, and when he shook his head, you nodded slowly, swallowing thickly. "If I give you mine in return, will you?"

He nodded. "Of course."

"Promise me one thing," you said quietly. "No matter what, if I become too much, or you realise I'm not good enough - you will leave."

He hesitated.

[curiousquirks]

Day 12 | Edgeshot x F!Reader (18+)

Virginity | Mutual Masturbation

Content Warnings: Mutual Masturbation, Voyeurism, Exhibitionism, Slight Cum Marking, AFAB Reader

Word Count: 1,417

Summary: 

Sexual frustration and longing desire had you feeling needy after a teasing phone call with Shinya. Part of you hoped he came over to your place while you were in the middle of dealing with a certain problem he caused. Little did you know your little prayer would be answered.

In spite of every ounce of reassurance you gave yourself, sometimes your frustrations were eating you alive. You didn’t want to ruin anything, let alone end up pushing Shinya away. You were attracted to him, there was no doubt in your mind, but the step towards a physical relationship had you hesitating. Besides, he was a very busy man and you weren’t going to rush things just because you couldn’t see him as often. You both cared about each other and the relationship was progressing beautifully.

Not getting to see him often did have you missing him more and more every time he left. It did allow your mind to wander in specific vulnerable moments. Even though you didn’t want to rush into anything physical due to being a virgin, that didn’t mean you were ignorant to your body’s desperation or sexual frustration. Crawling onto your bed before collapsing upon it, you throw an arm over your face. You didn’t get to wallow in your own self pity before your phone rang. 

You forced yourself to reach over to grab your phone, sliding up to answer. “Shinya!” You answered, your mood suddenly lifted after seeing the caller ID.

“I’m sorry for missing your call earlier, that patrol took longer than expected.” He explained, sounding tired.

“No, no, it’s okay.” You said, sitting up on your bed. “I’m sorry I should have remembered to just wait until you called me. I should know better than to interrupt your work.”

“Don’t be silly, you know I enjoy it.” He said, giving a soft chuckle. “Besides, I would’ve answered if it wasn’t for a particularly difficult villain that we came across.”

“I hope everything went smoothly, although from how tired you sound I imagine not.” You said, wishing you could comfort him more. 

“It did, it was just more tedious than anticipated. Nothing me and my team couldn’t handle, of course.” He explained, the background noise of the street suddenly disappearing. “I hope I didn’t worry you.”

“You always do, it comes with the territory of dating a Pro-Hero.” You joked, softly laughing. “But I know how good you are at your job, the worry leaves just as quick as it appears. I almost wish I could give you some sort of special thank you gift for all your dedication and hard work.” The words registered in your mind after they left your mouth.

A brief pause happened on the other end of the line before he spoke up again. “Like what?” He asked in a blatant teasing tone. “What kind of gift?”

“Oh–well uhm I mean I could think of a few things but I don’t uhh…” You trailed off, your face heating up as you struggled to come up with literally any example. You heard him chuckle, the sound turning your mind to mush and had a pulsing need building between your legs. “Stop laughing at me.” You whined.

“I just want to know what kind of gift I’m expecting.” He continued teasing. “I sincerely hope it’s what I had in mind, considering how much I adore that already.” 

Your face burned more. “And what’s that, hm? Sin–Since you wanna ruin the surprise.” You were struggling to maintain his level of joking and teasing. 

“You.” He said simply. The way he said it, had you taking a hard swallow. You didn’t have much time to process let alone respond before he continued. “I can’t wait to see what you have in store when I come over. I care for you dearly, my heart. Goodbye.”

“R-Right, yeah of course. Goodbye.” You said quickly before hanging up the phone.

You collapsed on your bed again, tossing your phone to the side. Your whole body burned, your breathing starting to get uneven as you fought back all your devious thoughts. He had your head spinning, had your mind wanting to throw every inhibition out the window. His silky voice ran through your head again; that wonderful laugh, the way he said ‘you’, it was all repeating in your mind. 

The growing wetness in your underwear was getting hard to ignore. The tingling, aching was more of a distraction than him racing through your brain. Your hand slipped beneath your waistband, your fingers running across your folds. A sigh leaving your lips as your body reacts to the contact. Your other hand resting on your chest, massaging your breast before rolling your nipple between your fingers. Your eyes were closed as you rubbed your fingers against your clit, the jolts of pleasure enticing moans and his name from your mouth.

You didn’t know when he could be home, but that honestly excited you. What if he had walked in on you pleasuring yourself, hearing you moan out his name. It just spurred you on more, your growing arousal dripping from you. You moved to slide your pants and underwear down and off of your legs, before reaching into your side drawer for your vibrator. The small device’s speed and efficiency have you arching your back as you grind against it.

Pleas and begging fall from your lips as often as your whimpers did. Your eyes flutter open when you hear your bedroom door creak open, spotting a familiar figure peeking through the door. You hadn’t expected him to be over at your place that quickly, figuring it was a surprise from him. He slowly pushed the door open, standing there in the doorway, his eyes glued to your body. 

“I had made that comment as a joke, I didn’t expect you to be waiting like this for me.” He said, his now hardening cock becoming more apparent. “I certainly didn’t expect to hear my name fall from your lips so beautifully.”

“Shinya,” You moaned, grinding your hips against your vibrator. “Please, d-don’t let me do ngh ahh…do it alone. Join me.”

He didn’t need anymore encouragement, removing his pants as he moved towards the bed. He perched himself at the end of your bed, his eyes carefully watching every expression crossing your face. Your eyes fell to stare at his cock, your eyes wide. You hadn’t seen it before and the sight of it alone made you moan. 

“Holy shit.” You whined, biting your lower lip. 

Your eyes watched him start to stroke his cock, and you circled the vibrator around your clit. You moaned his name again and you saw his cock twitch. He groaned your name, quickening his speed as he saw you rolling your hips against the toy. You both were fascinated watching each other’s body move as you pleased yourselves.

It became too much for you hearing your name fall like a prayer from his lips, combined with the intense vibrations of the toy. You felt your orgasm fast approaching and cried out as it hit you. You quickly turned off the vibrator before the sensation became too much, as you laid there catching your breath. You glanced over at Shinya, completely entranced with watching him stroke himself. Your face burned as you watched him, imagining what it would be like to feel him inside of you.

You pulled up your shirt over your breasts, moving your hands to cup them. You looked up at Shinya’s face, his eyes having fallen to your newly exposed chest. An idea struck in your head, and before you could give it a second thought you decided to just voice it. “Come on me, I want to feel it.” You said, internally cringing after you spoke unsure if he’d like it.

Much to your surprise, Shinya was quick to move in between your legs. His cock hovering over your stomach as his hand quickly stroked it above you. His eyes fell back as he grunted, hot spurts of cum coating your skin. You gasped at the contact, the warmth unexpected but not unwelcome. Your pussy clenched in response, aching for more attention as you etched his pure euphoric face into memory. 

After a few moments' pause, Shinya gave a blissful sigh before he let his head fall forward. His eyes slowly opened and were full of love as they looked down at you. Your hands reached up and wrapped around his neck, pulling yourself up slightly to pull him in for a kiss. After pulling back, Shinya rested his forehead against yours. 

You both stayed like that for a moment before he pulled away. “Let me go run us a bath.” He said, placing a kiss on your forehead before getting up.