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windwheeler-aster · 1 year

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matchmaker to the rescue!

summary: nahida helps you and your crush, one of sumeru’s luckiest men, get together

masterlist

pairings (separate): tighnari, cyno, and alhaitham x reader

reader info: uses gender neutral pronouns, is a sumeru citizen, reader is slightly insecure, in some parts reader works as at the akadeymia (alhaitham and cyno), and reader is not traveler

word count: 575 words per character’s section (2 mins~ each)

genre: romance, matchmaking, mutual pining

format: drabbles

warnings: self-doubt/insecure thoughts implied for reader but not described

a/n: i’m trying something new with the drabble formats!!!!!! also omg hi!!! (also,,, kinda wanna make this a series with all the littles, hehe,,, would anyone wanna see that...?)

it’s so obvious that tighnari likes you.

he is all smiles and sass whenever he’s with you, witty quips rolling off his tongue with ease in your presence. tighnari’s lips pull into a grin when you snap back at him with something equally as witty, always making him laugh into his hand. and, despite how much he tries to still it, his tail wags wildly when you laugh. he just thinks the sound of your laughter is precious, alright?

now, to any passer by, it’s so painfully obvious that he likes you. why else would he be taking trips into sumeru city everyday if not only to see you? cyno teases him all the time when he sees you two together, always making flirty gestures and a knowing look whenever you look away. and even collei, sweet and oblivious, asks tighnari about it. often things like why his tail was wagging so hard. or even why his ears perk up like that at just the mere mention of your name. the poor forest ranger can barely handle it, clutching onto his face or ears as his friends tease him.

was it really that obvious? he asked himself at night, hugging his pillow tightly. if cyno and collei know... then wouldn’t they know, too? tighnari clutches his pillow tighter, a pang of sadness hitting his heart.

then why haven’t they said anything about it?

unfortunately for tighnari, you are as completely oblivious to his feelings as he is to yours. it’s not at all that you don’t like him, though! you just... can be a little dense sometimes, and mistaking your enjoyment of being with him as purely platonic. and vise versa.

and nahida sees this as she strolls the streets of sumeru. she accidentally hears tighnari’s racing thoughts of overanalyzation of his words, how he holds himself, of tighnari in general when he is around you. and when she looks over to you, nahida is sad to hear many thoughts of self doubt.

sure, she had many projects waiting back for her in the akademiya. but surely something as trivial as getting you and tighnari together wouldn’t be too much?

and sure enough, it isn’t!

sending dreams to both you and tighnari helps bring you two closer together. sure, tighnari ends up waking up incredibly flustered after each one. even if it was just about you two hugging, tighnari using you as a pillow as he sleeps, or whatever simple and fluffy thing that entered his dreams. it definitely affects how he sees you, as he is incredibly nervous and awkward around you. he can’t even look you in the eyes now!

for a moment, nahida worries that she’s interfered too much. however, she notices how you, albeit shyly and hesitantly, begin to make some moves on tighnari. complimenting the small things he does, like how lovely his eyes look in the late evening as the sun sets. or how you teased him for how much his tail wagged whenever you said something kind. and the dendro archon rejoices when you ask him out to eat, even if it’s just a “simple dinner between friends.” she knows what you’re doing, and she’s quite proud.

some time later when it’s announced that the two of you finally started dating, nahida is in great spirits. she’s much more talkative and bubbly as she has meetings with the akademiya scholars, almost tempting her to throw a festival of love in celebration of your and tighnari. that is until she remembers that love is the tsaritsa’s domain. oh well.

cyno is amazing at keepings his feelings from you hidden.

you’re a scholar at the akademiya, one that is often visited by the general mahamantra on the dendro archon’s behalf. whenever you two talk, he keeps his replies curt. he nods along to whatever you’re saying, sometimes interjecting something half-heartedly to the conversation, with a dazed look in his amber eyes. it worries you that you’re boring the general mahamantra, but cyno reassures you that he’s not. he’s just tired, that’s all.

so why does he always act tired? you think.

little do you know, cyno does like spending time with you. he enjoys visiting you everyday, whether or not nahida asks him to. he loves the little amounts of knowledge you share on a topic when he asks you. and he does like you, because how could he not? like, seriously? you’re you, one of the most talented, amazing, downright precious, attractive, and intelligent person he’s ever met. why would he not like you?

however, with his title, cyno makes a lot of enemies. it’s best for him not to involve you in any sort of danger. even if it’s a matter of your safety, it pains cyno so much when he sees your hurt expression when he pretends to disregard whatever you just said. he’s internally screaming at himself, desperately wishing he could just grab you and hug you so tightly that the hurt and pain he’s caused is squeezed out of you.

just as he thinks that, however, the sumeru archon accidentally pears into his thoughts when she passes you two by in the akademiya. she’s a little shocked that cyno felt that way about you, and even more shocked when she hears your cruel thoughts about yourself, going on and on about how cyno would never like someone like you. nahida smacks herself so hard on the head that it alerts cyno, which lets him leave swiftly to take care of the dendro archon.

but nahida doesn’t stop thinking about the two of you together, even whilst she’s in the middle of meetings or while she’s talking with cyno himself.

how could two people like each other so much but don’t know it? she asks herself.

finally, after enough pondering, nahida begins to plant the seed of her elaborate plan to get you two together. hopefully.

first, it starts with mentioning your name to cyno as he escorts her on a walk throughout sumeru city. she’s internally delighted to see a subtle smile form on his lips at the mere mention of your name, even if it disappears soon after he gives a vague description of you. but after enough prodding, nahida gets a genuine compliment about you from him. she smiles at the general mahamantra, and cyno is left wondering what is so amusing to her.

then, she sends sweet dreams to cyno of you. sweet days spent together, making breakfast for you while you’re still in bed, waking you up with a sweet kiss and an even sweeter greeting. making you laugh, or sometimes groan, at all the ridiculous jokes cyno has to offer. enough sweet moments with you that makes him wake up, craving for more of that sweetness, craving for your presence in his life once more.

eventually, cyno begins to lower his guard and warm up to you. it’s definitely something to grow used to, as you first thought it was all some cruel prank at your expanse. but once you realize that cyno’s nods and interjections in your conversations were now genuine and sweet, you began to warm up to him, too.

nahida was delighted when she saw you and cyno together, casually holding each other’s hands as you strolled through the marketplace. she’ll make sure to offer her congratulations to cyno later, right after she congratulates herself for such a success.

haitham acts so casual and friendly that you would never think he’d like you back in that way.

he leans over the desk that separates you two, listening intently to whatever you’re talking about. although, his gaze does glaze over a few times and his eyes drop down more than once. you falter, slightly, but haitham is very quick to reassure you to continue, perking up and looking at you with genuine interest as a very subtle blush takes over his face.

please tell me they didn’t see me checking them out, haitham prayed, silently.

haitham thinks his crush on you is so obvious that he does everything in his power to not let anyone know, yourself included. and it’s not at all that haitham is ashamed of liking you. if anything, haitham wants nothing more than to show all of teyvat that he cares for you! he’s truly, madly, and deeply in love with you. however, he’s a little embarrassed at how quickly he fell for you. what if he comes on too strong and scares you away? what if you don’t feel the same way? what if you hate him and he didn’t realize it?

so, haitham wants to give himself some time before he asks you out, however long that may be.

and yet, haitham’s so well thought out facade is easily found out by nahida. all she needed to do was look at how earnest haitham looked at you as you two browsed the shelves of the akademiya’s library. but, just to make sure, nahida let your and haitham’s thoughts grace her. and she was delighted to discover that you both truly did care about each other, even letting out a small giggle. however, at the pace you two were going, haitham probably wouldn’t have asked you out until the hairs on his head were... greyer.

so, nahida sends some dreams haitham’s way.

he gets these tortuously sweet dreams about you. watching you over the top of his book as you read in the same room as him, more than content with just coexisting with him in the same space. sharing space with you in general, whether that be in the kitchen making food or laying down together on the couch. his personal space is now your personal space too, and haitham is more than content with that fact.

but when he wakes up, haitham is quite sad to find out it had all been a dream. a part of him craves for those moments so badly that he begins to plan out a confession.

nahida tries not to act too happy when she hears news of the scribe and you getting together. internally, she’s overjoyed and can’t wait to see your romance blossom further. however, externally, she gives haitham a smile whenever she sees you walking him to work, holding onto his hand as you wish him well at the akademiya.

maybe the dendro archon should try match making more often.

taglist:

@x-zho @cxlrosii @i23kazu @tiredsleep @ireallylikehamsters

(send an ask to be added or removed)

thank you for reading 💖 all forms of interaction to my posts are appreciated 💖

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astridthevalkyrie · 10 months

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tw: dubcon, noncon, bully!gojo, afab reader w/ she/her pronouns

Gojo's a sick fuck.

He corners you on campus in the strangest places, taking advantage of the fact that he's been here a year longer than you. Sometimes Getou or Ieiri are with him, but most of the time he's alone, and when he's alone he's even worse than when he's just putting on a show for his dickhead friends. They only get to bear witness to him teasing you from afar, just his general idiocy and inborn cruelty. When he's by himself, though, nothing stops him from trying to corner you literally, one hand on the wall next to your head and the other finding some excuse to touch you, either running a finger down your cheek or brushing some invisible dust from your shoulder.

And you've had enough. You just want to find a place to sit down and study or read or eat or literally anything else as long as you don't have to worry about the only guy who tormented you all throughout school continuing the cycle in university where you were supposed to be free from this, this cocky, stupid, bitch.

You're in the library today, but his approach is the same as it is in any other location. Your physics lab, outside a professor's office, the community pool, for Christ's sake. First, he makes his presence known, making you aware that he's being his usual creepy self. This time, he's leaning against the wall when you turn the corner behind one of the shelves. There's a book in his hands that has so many dog ears you think he reads one page then saves the literal next one for the following day.

He doesn't look up, not right away. Not until he feels you glare burning his skin for a good few seconds. It's when you assume the burn actually becomes painful that he looks up, feigning a surprised smirk as his icy blues practically gleam. "Fancy seeing you here," he purrs, book staying open in his hands.

"Go to hell, Satoru." There's no point engaging further with him. The only option you have is to get the hell out before he gets to touch you. If he touches you, it's all over. You turn on your heel and throw a quick thank you prayer out that you don't immediately bump into Getou, who would act as the other mousecatcher whenever Gojo decided he wanted to play.

Behind you, you hear him put the book down and your legs move faster without you even thinking about it. You don't even know how he always tracks you down. Maybe he installed some app on your phone without you realizing. You'll get a new one. Anything to just get rid of him.

Even though you've been on campus for at least a month now, virtually every building is still wholly unexplored, mostly because you're constantly trying to avoid these exact types of situations. The amount of times you could have stayed on campus but instead scurried home is already close to the triple digits. And for what? You've only avoided Gojo a handful of times and left yourself unprepared for a hasty escape too.

There's footsteps somewhere, and now that your heart is racing you can't calm down enough to pinpoint where they're coming from. It's a Friday night and not even close to midterm week, so there's a few regulars here, but not nearly enough people that someone will see you. Not that Gojo minds, you've seen him look someone dead in the eye and then squeeze your hip impatiently, as though to tell them do you mind? You don't know where he gets his confidence, but whatever it is, it's well earned. Everyone gives in to him, eventually. Even you.

You turn out of yet another aisle, and then your legs falter.

"Hey, sweetness," he grins at you. Your back hits the wood behind you and your bag thumps to the floor. On days where he wants to really torture you, Gojo acts like a charmer, kissing the back of your hand or carrying your bag over his shoulder, preening in the direction of anyone who calls him a good boyfriend, singing a sinister thanks knowing damn well he isn't your anything.

This isn't one of those days. You can tell.

Gojo doesn't want to be your boyfriend anymore than you want to be his girlfriend. He likes his lifestyle, and an average stick in the mud like you would definitely ruin the perfect image. But that doesn't mean he wants you out of his life completely. When he'd learned you'd be going to the same university as him, he'd sent you the only text message he'd ever sent you, a filthy picture captioned with a sweet and simple can't wait to have you.

And have you he will, whenever he wants. He's pretty open about that. "Are you in a rush?" His blues blink innocently. You're not sure why he keeps up the act even when no one is around, it only serves to set your nerves further askew.

"Leave..." Before you can even formulate the thought of a process, his hands are on your hips, pinky finger slipping under your sweater inconspicuously. "Leave me alone, Satoru."

"Nah," he breathes, "you look real pretty today, sweetheart."

While he doesn't make a move to take your sweater off, he does bury his face in your shoulder and inhale the scent. Then he slowly switches from the sweater to your actual skin, tucking down the fabric of the turtleneck to expose your neck, which you'd taken pains and suffered the heat to hide. Gojo moans a little at just the last remaining bruise he sees on you.

"Love when you don't try to cover it up," he murmurs, "don't need you treating me like a dirty secret."

As if you could keep him a secret. No one aside from your professors even tries speaking to you, and you have no doubts as to why. "I do try—I did cover it up."

"This doesn't count." Instead of just kissing you, because he's a bitch, Gojo kisses the inside of your turtleneck, his hair tickling your nose. "I meant makeup and crap. This? S'like unwrapping a present, baby."

"Satoru," you choke. It isn't just how he touches you, it's everything. The proximity, the casual way he says the most scummy things you've heard in your life and says them like they're just simple facts.

"Normally, I'd tell someone to stop playing so hard to get after so many times. But you're special, y'know." Two fingers push your lower lip down and slide in slowly, running over your gums before violating your mouth further. "This bitchy attitude only makes me wanna have you more." He waits, waits for you to gag, to choke on his fingers and look up at him with watery, pleading eyes before he removes his fingers and slots his lips over yours.

When Gojo kisses you, it's not demanding so much as needy. For someone who already has an ego that's sky high, he still seems to want you to stroke it, and nothing strokes his ego more than the noises you make unwillingly. Every little gasp, whimper, sharp breath, he swallows possessively, as he drags his nails gently along your lower back, making you squirm closer to his mouth to get away.

He plays you like you're his favorite instrument. And he knows exactly which strings to pluck.

His tongue nips at your teeth playfully, and that's when you pull away, summoning up whatever remaining courage you have. "Someone's going to come down this way," you beg, because the only thing you haven't experienced yet is being fucked with an audience, and you're not eager to change that. "Please, Sato—"

"It's okay." The fingers that were just in your mouth a few seconds ago now slide down your waist and under your jeans, nudging them down. "Don't need any foreplay. Been hard since you walked into the library, sweetness. And I bet you've just been dripping playing tag with me. I promise one of these days you'll get to be it," he mocks, as his other hand undoes his belt.

Tears spring to your eyes, but Gojo kisses them off your eyebags before they can fall too far. "You're so tired," his voice coos, "m'gonna make it all better. I'll make you feel so good."

His hand twists into your hair, yanking it back in a single motion that must be gentle for him, but it's rough for you. It's the sting in your scalp that you focus on as he takes your hand and wraps it around his cock, making you jerk him off in preparation. It's the one thing he always demands, claiming he can't get off unless he gets to feel your touch first. Bullshit.

Once he's satisfied, Gojo moves your hand away, intertwining your fingers and placing them on the shelf next to your head as he guides his dick to your leaking pussy, sliding the first inch in with a hiss.

Praise drips from him easily like this, when he has you between him and any hard surface. The individual shelves hurt your back, but less so when he slides an arm around you, pulling you closer as he pushes in with one lazy thrust.

"Ah!" your cry catches in your throat, but he bites you, groaning with your lip caught between his teeth. He pulls out and thrusts again, and your tear slips down to your mouth this time, where he licks it off.

"God," he compliments, developing a pace that's fast but not fast enough, not fast enough to ensure you won't get caught or to make you cum, "so fuckin' glad I don't let anyone else fuck you. This cunt's only for me, yeah? Belongs to me?" When you don't answer, too focused on the feeling of him filling you, leaving you empty, and then filling you again, he speeds up. To Gojo, the more you struggle to give him what he wants, the more fair it is to make it harder.

The shelf shakes as he loves you against it, it won't fall but you fantasize about him being crushed under it anyways. Then you think about being buried under with him, completely in his clutches with no telling when you'd be able to get out, and you clench around him, eyes rolling back.

"You think there's cameras in here?" he pants, digging his nails into your skin again. The pads of his fingers press roughly under your shirt, sure to leave even more bruises for him to lavish with his tongue later, whenever he pleases. "Think someone'll see you getting railed and jack off to it? I know I would, baby. If I only got you on camera I'd be fuckin' my hand and coming on your face every night. Lucky me," he gasps, and you feel him swell inside you, "that I got the real thing all to myself."

You hate how much his voice and his words affect you, how much each filthy thought of his makes your pussy practically gush for him as one of your own fingers rubs over your clit frantically. Each squelching sound makes him more feral, till he's rattling you against the shelf, every thrust of his hips growing more frantic and more desperate.

"I'm almost there, sweetness." Gojo reaches up and squishes your cheeks together, blues blown out as he kisses your puckered lips one more time. "Answer my question, baby. Tell me whose cunt this is so I can blow my load in it. C'mon, fuck, tell me."

You let out a sob that hiccups into a moan, force out, "Yours," and cum.

Gojo whines, thrusting one, two, three more times before he's coming too, filling you up with each jerk of his hips. His head falls onto your shoulder, panting on your neck. Your turtleneck is entirely too warm now, and useless to boot. Cum drips from your pussy; Gojo slides two fingers against your hole as he pulls out, sticking them in your mouth, just at your tongue this time. You taste him and yourself, and even though he's not forcing them in further this time, you still feel like gagging.

He takes them out, then places them in his own mouth, sucking them off and groaning at the taste.

As he tucks himself back in his pants, he runs a hand through his hair, setting it back into place before dropping a kiss to your cheek. Your tears have dried now, and you're trying to ignore his cum leaking onto your panties as you pull your jeans up. You don't even want to think about how you look, or about how you'll bring yourself to another orgasm tonight thinking of this, albeit not one as good.

Patting your hip, Gojo flashes you his best grin. "See you next time, sweetness. Maybe tomorrow?" Without waiting for your reaction, he strolls off, a single hand raised in goodbye.

Wiping at your cheeks and taking out your phone, you release an angry sniff, penciling it in.

#i have never ever written for gojo idk how this happened a charlie puth song really put me in a mood #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #jjk #jjk x reader #valkyrie stories

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lorelune · 6 months

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lobotomy commission

|| jing yuan x gn!reader || T || love sick hopefully lovers || wc: 3.9k || ao3 ||

The Xianzhou Alliance has... never allowed lobotomies? Why are you so insistent on receiving one?

(The General, the Divine Foresight.)

minors, antis, and ageless blogs dni

a/n: oh mister general jing yuan you have me so damn heart eyes. here's a lil sweet treat!!!!

CW: fluff, friends to lovers, jing yuan being a bit silly, alcohol consumption, FLUFF, a bit of crack being taken seriously

"Lady Fu, I need to be put down." Your cheek hits the low table. You feel pathetic. It's a Thursday and you're teary-eyed after far too little wine to be in such a state. You sniffle.

"No one is 'putting you down'!" Fu Xuan huffs from the other side, patting your arm. "It's rare that you’re this mopey. What’s troubling you?"

"I am not 'mopey'. I need a lobotomy. Which of the commissions would handle this procedure?"

Lady Fu frowns, clicks her tongue, and sighs your name, “A lobotomy, really?

"Yes, exactly. As soon as possible, preferably.” You down the rest of your cup and restlessly flip your phone screen up.

"This is particularly pathetic. Stop drinking and wallowing and just tell me what's wrong."

"Fu Xuan, you will scold me." You push yourself up on the table and shake your head. "No, actually, you will fire me. You will send me to my office this very instant, force me to pack up my things, and turn in my permissions. I'll be out of a job. Then, I'll be homeless. then—"

"No, nuh-uh, no more dramatics!" Fu Xuan slaps a hand over your mouth. You're glad you’re seated in a private corner of the bar, as this is a rather pathetic display on both of your parts. "Please just tell me, what’s the matter?”

Your dilemma.

"I like the General."

Fu Xuan frowns, expression pinched, and her hand falls heavily onto the table. "That... isn’t exactly new information? Even if it’s a... questionable call of taste, the general is handsome. Occasionally charming when he isn’t being an oaf on purpose. I don’t think having a bit of a crush on the Divine Foresight is anything unusual. Half of the population of the Luofu holds the same opinion.

“Okay, but,” you unlock your phone, a ceramic, cat-shaped charm swinging from the vase as you wobble. “What if the General were to return my feelings? And he invited me for a walk and a meal tomorrow evening?”

Fu Xuan's jaw drops. "You're joking."

"I'm not,” you whine and slide your phone across the table.

...

Divine Foresight 🦁:

Are you free tomorrow evening? I know a terrace that has a splendid view of the overlook near the Cinnabar Eyeline. I would be delighted to take you to it and share a meal after,

Divine Foresight 🦁:

If you'll have me :3c

...

“Oh... wow.” Fu Xuan looks shocked. It’s hard to shock her, but she does tend to avoid divining the destiny of those she is close to (unless entirely necessary.) Her intuition regardless of mathematics and astral geometry is, however, keen. Yet her eyes are wide and she struggles to gather her words. “What a menace.”

“I know.”

“The General is rarely so forward. I’ve never heard of him being so forward.”

“I know.”

“Except, perhaps—”

“With me?” You rub your cheeks. They’re warm from the wine.

“Only you. Though this is particularly... telling. I’m sure it’s sincere.”

“I would agree.” Your stomach flutters, and you swallow the feeling down.

Fu Xuan narrows her eyes and says your name, mouth in a thin line, "You haven't replied."

“And that’s why I need the lobotomy.” You swallow. “I’m going to turn him down.”

“WHAT?!”

You need another drink.

Fu Xuan clearly does not. Her cheeks flush rosy pink as she slaps her hands on the low table. “Why would you reject him? Even if he’s a scoundrel— he is genuine.”

“I know, that’s why I can’t accept his... proposition.”

Despite knowing that Jing Yuan serially denies any potential suitors or daring admirers. You know that it has always been like this— from the time long ago when he first gained rank, to his ‘withered age’ as he self-deprecating refers to himself now. He is always kind about his rejections, you’ve witnessed one or two of them, but he never even entertains the idea of romantic partnership. You’ve never heard him mention it or any desires.

So, for him to so bluntly ask you on a date—

He couldn’t be more clear with his feelings.

“You’re a fool.”

“Now, you’re getting it.” You pour yourself another glass of plum wine. Your shared bottle is nearly empty. “This is why I need the lobotomy.”

Fu Xuan watches you drink your glass in a single go. Her brows are pinched and her arms are crossed. Her shoulders sag a moment later.

“I do believe I understand your reasoning, and I don’t think it’s lobotomy-worthy.”

“... High praise.”

“[Name].”

“Alright, alright. I’m sorry.” You laugh behind your palm. The world feels sticky and bouncy, all at once. You crave the respite of your own bed. “I can’t accept his proposition in the form of a text. I mean, Lady Fu, he's the most powerful man on the Luofu. He is renowned in all fields of battle, strategic, and social graces. He’s kind. He probably like, kisses babies on Sundays at the markets."

"He does not."

"You never know!" You groan. "That's all to say that I won't accept an invitation to a date with this little effort put into it."

"... Because it's a text?"

"Because it's a text." You nod.

Fu Xuan pauses, then sighs.

“I can’t decide if that makes you a fool or not.” Her hair is frizzing up with the humidity. "Perhaps you have a point, the General is old enough to know and have some decorum when going about these things."

"Maybe he's a virgin? But like, for dating."

"I'd have to check... certain records. Archives. To confirm or deny that."

You wilt, “He probably isn’t. I’m being foolish.”

“No, you’re not.” Fu Xuan smooths a hand over your cheek with a frown.

"Lady Fu," you cry and wish you were at home. In bed. Maybe you should block his number. "You're supposed to say, 'You absolutely are, my most beloved junior, I will schedule your lobotomy and—’"

"No more talk of lobotomies, please."

"Fine, fine." you sigh and finish off your final cup as Lady Fu does as well. "Do you think I'm nuts for turning him down?"

"... No, I don't." Fu Xuan looks shy for a moment. A lot more human than her lofty station implies. "I don't doubt that... Jing Yuan has feelings for you. I see how he looks at you. But he ought to romance you a bit. A text is low effort. You should reply regardless though."

"I'm going to, I just needed some courage. And moral support." You give her a soft smile and tap back into your messages. Fu Xuan practically crawls around the table to your side. She leans her head on your shoulders and her eyes droop. You take a heavy inhale, then exhale, attempt to focus your blurry vision and craft.

...

You:

General, though I'm flatered by your offer, I will need to decline. Though I will ackknowledge what I would imagine (and hope)) to be your genun

You:

geuine

You:

gennuie

You:

genuine

You:

feelings, I cannot accept an invitation in the form of a text message. I must be wooed.

You:

lady Fuu says "if you are capable of such things"

You:

pls don't fire her she's a good boss and so nice

You:

[picture from XX/XX/XXXX @ 2:14 AM]

...

The next morning is hell. Hell. You wished you had undergone your requested lobotomy. It certainly feels like someone has stuck metal rods into your brain, with the migraine pounding the back of your eyes. Maybe a hangover this bad is somewhat equivalent to a lobotomy. Your memory of your night prior is... cloudy, to say the least. Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth as you manage to down a glass of water and a handful of peachy-colored pills. You speed walk to the Divination Commission, shooting Fu Xuan an apologetic “sorry, running late, forgive me 🙏" text.

You mentally pat your drunk self on the back. After you sent your... rejection (ouch) to the General, you muted his messages and deleted the thread. No evidence, no way to feel awkward about it sober. And no way to dwell on it either. Besides, you hardly remember what you said to him after your last glass of wine. It’s hazy in your memory.

It was... perhaps a foolish way to go about things. You certainly could have approached the General and talked about it, but he sometimes spoke in circles about matters of the heart. Maybe... maybe you felt too fragile to dance that dance, if it came to that. Maybe, you were a bit overwhelmed by his invitation. You know all too well that he does not let himself be pursued. He does not pursue others.

You feel blind-sided by the whole thing.

But that doesn’t matter— because you cleanly rejected him and your only repercussion is a hangover that you’re sure Fu Xuan is twinning.

And besides, it’s better that you rejected him. He’s of such a high— highest station. He wouldn’t have time for you, surely. You... have gotten used to your entirely and completely platonic, twice-a-month lunch dates and the occasional star chess lesson (where he never lets you win but you swear you'll give him a run for his money.) But it's fine. You can let go of those things, along with your feelings for the General.

It's better this way.

You think these thoughts somewhat confidently until you arrive at the Divination Commission and find a crowd swarming the central platform under the Matrix of Prescience Ultima. Frowning, you try to weave through the edge of it to your office, where you conveniently have a few nutrition shakes stashed away that you most certainly need. You’re already late and this hangover needs to go. You have a full docket for the day that you need to make fuller so you don’t think about—

You nearly stumble when you hear a rich, familiar, roll of laughter. You freeze, slowly turning to the sound. A crown of fluffy hair peaks above the small crowd, a red ribbon waving in the breeze.

Absolutely fucking not.

You duck, just in case, and try to creep below the crowd. You probably look ridiculous, but you absolutely cannot see Jing Yuan. You can’t. Your poorly-thought out, hungover plan of not caring about the General does somewhat heavily rely on not seeing the man. You trip over over your own feet and barely catch yourself so as to not tumble to the ground.

Jing Yuan calls your name and

You freeze before jolting to your full height a moment later. The gaggle of your coworkers part enough so that you’re able to see him— lit so well and handsomely in the morning sun, smiling so easily with... perhaps a hint of mischief in the curve of his lips.

He waves with his free hand, while a massive bouquet is pillowed in the crook of his arm.

The flowers are beautiful— off-ship exotics, clearly. The colors are all bright oranges and vibrant blues. Thinner stems are topped with bundles of white, delicate flowers that break the barrage of colors. They look fresh, like they’d been cut this morning. Fu Xuan stands next to him, clearly hungover herself and close to popping a blood vessel. It’s incredibly rare that the General do anything in the mornings, especially causing a commotion in the Divination Commission.

Jing Yuan, who is more than likely aware of this, looks entirely unbothered. Actually, he glows as he calls your name, gentle and rich, and the sound of it hits you in the chest, “There you are.”

"Here I am." You're not. You need that lobotomy. You nod to him curtly, "General. Is there something I can help you with today?"

Fu Xuan looks like she’s going to expire right there on the platform.

Jing Yuan cocks his head knowingly, “There is, yes. I have a rather personal matter to discuss in private with you. Are you available?”

You have things on your schedule. You can make yourself appear busy, if it means not dealing with the General you can’t really hide from and the beautiful bouquet in his arms. “Well—”

“They’re free.” Fu Xuan all but pushes you toward him. You regret covering her tab the night before. “Especially free, since I’ll be rescheduling our weekly meeting to tomorrow.”

“Is that really necessary—?” You laugh and wring your hands. You feel caught in the worst way. “General, will this personal discussion take much time? I am quite busy today—”

Jing Yuan, who has been watching your exchange with Fu Xuan wordlessly, looks a bit... crestfallen. It’s hard to tell on a man who holds himself like the General, but it’s there. A crease between his brows that’s slight, but visible and abnormal. Maybe he’s holding the bouquet a little tighter than he probably thought. There’s a sheen of sweat on his temple that, if asked, he would probably blame on the heat index for the day.

Your words die in your throat as you take him in and force yourself to meet his gaze. Honeyed and sad, a bit like a kicked dog.

“... I suppose, I could arrange a proper appointment with you. Perhaps it was uncouth of me to expect such accommodations to be made for me last minute. I apologize.” You can hear his tone change. It may be imperceptible to someone else, but you notice the shift in him. Gone is the playful lilt and air of mischief, on his a veneer of niceties that you... had forgotten he loses around you.

Something in your chest aches.

You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Floundering. Jing Yuan adjusts his hold on the bouquet—

“Enough of this.” Lady Fu shakes her head. She shoos a hand toward the lingering onlookers. “Back to work, now. Don’t eavesdrop either. I’ll know if you do.”

(Debatable, but it’s Fu Xuan’s favorite threat.)

Once the crowd has dispersed, she turns toward you too. You needed that lobotomy, like, yesterday.

“I will make the necessary changes to your schedule so you can speak privately for as long as you need." She points at you, then Jing Yuan. “Sort this.”

The General raises an eyebrow at her. She’s bold to speak in such a way to someone above her own station, but Lady Fu doesn't dare back down. She glares at him, then you, partially covering her mouth to block Jing Yuan’s view before mouthing, “FIX THIS!!!!”

...

On the way to your office, you walk side by side, in silence. You’re trying to think of the right words to say.

“... Are you sure you have time for this, General?” You ask him, softly. “I don’t mean to ask as a slight— just— I don’t want to inconvenience you is all.”

“Of course.” He replies easily. You turn down the long, quiet corridor that leads to your office. It’s tucked away in a corner of the divination Commission, facing outward toward the Arbor’s stump with tall windows providing a sunlit view. You’re glad you don’t have to look at him as you unlock the door with a thick-looking key. “This is a rather pertinent, time-sensitive matter we’re discussing. My own schedule is not consequential in this case. Haste, moreso.”

You laugh under your breath.

“Great Lan, Qingzu is going to kill me.” You sigh before pushing the door open with a shake of your head. Perhaps a smile curls on your lips. Who’s to say. “Did you at least not leave a pile of paperwork for her to delegate in your stead?”

“And what, diminish the time I have for my afternoon nap with busy work?” Jing Yuan laughs. The sound fills you from the bottom up and you want to choke on it. You tear your gaze away from him. “Such a thing would be unhealthy, you know. I’m an old man.”

“An old man who needs an ample amount of beauty sleep.” You tease him, it’s easy to. You speak before you even have a chance to think about the warm nature of your words. The meaning behind the bouquet in his arms that he still hasn’t given to you.

Why Jing Yuan is in your office at all.

“... If this is about my texts my last night—”

“It is, partially.” Jing Yuan hums. “I’m afraid I’ve slighted you, and it’s of the utmost importance I correct my transgression.”

“That’s— That’s not necessary, General.” Your cheeks burn.

“It is. Entirely, in fact. Stating my intentions with you over text messages was... a poor choice on my part. I must apologize appropriately, don’t you think?

“I mean— that’s—” Your words flounder in your mouth. “Kind of you.”

It is kind of him. He certainly doesn’t need to be here, in your cramped office, with a bouquet that costs close to what you make in a day of work. He doesn’t need to be showing a sincere, lovesick smile as he speaks. He’s showing you a card he’s kept close to his chest. One you, perhaps, guessed he had, but hadn’t intended to ever see.

He presents you with the bouquet, “You said you must be wooed, and I am here to begin that process explicitly.”

"... I said what?" You’re going to burst into flames.

“I thought you may not recall your exact words. Did you and Lady Fu have a fun night together?” Jing Yuan chuckles, and you flush so hot you feel almost faint. “You said that I must, and I quote, ‘woo you’.”

He smiles at you, the glint in his eye a bit more mischievous. More knowing. He’s toying with you.

“I— no— I’m so sorry, General.” You cover your face with your hands and back into your desk. “Forget I said that. Please forget I said anything.”

“Please, use my name.” He corrects, gently. “I’d prefer not to forget. You have a point, I should have stated my intentions clearly and to you in person.”

You peek at him between your fingers. He still holds the bouquet out to you, like he’s trying to lure a cagey cat in for a pet rather than make a confession. You feel out of sorts. Off kilter. That said— it is nice to hear him in person. Your heart has been oscillating between fluttering and pounding.

Jing Yuan tilts his head sweetly at you. You take the bouquet from him and examine it closer. There’s yellow and lilac pollen dusted on the filaments, fresh and fragrant.

“Jing Yuan, then.” You reply to him, softly. It’s hardly the first time you’ve called him by his name, rather than a title, but he preens when you speak regardless. “... So, you intend to woo me then?”

“Entirely.” Jing Yuan hums to himself, looking quite proud. “I do fully recant my offer I sent previously. Though I would be happy to lounge with you in the terraces and see some lovely views, I’ve secured a reservation for this evening at a lovely restaurant in the Exalting Sanctum, if you would accompany me.”

Your stomach flips pleasantly. You can’t help the little smile that’s twitching over your lips. You take care to not crush the bouquet in your arms, despite the urge to squeeze it to your chest, just to tamp down the thumping of your heart. Stroking your thumb over the silken petal of lush, round-petaled bloom, you let yourself smile.

You can practically hear Jing Yuan holding his breath. His eyes look hopeful and young.

“I accept,” you reply. “Consider me wooed.”

“It was that easy?” Jing Yuan’s voice takes that air of smugness that you know is a farce but you still can’t help but to approach him and bat your hands at his chest.

“I already like you, you know,” You laugh. “I was more offended that you wouldn’t face me and tell me your intentions. I hardly know the General to be a coward. I was a bit slighted.”

Jing Yuan catches your wrists in one of his hands and gently holds them against your sternum. His fingers lay over the thump of your heart; you wonder if he can feel it. You feel pleasantly woozy when you meet his eyes and all their intensity. Intention.

“I apologize.” He speaks smoothly, easily. Perhaps ducking his head down to be closer to your own. “It’s quite difficult to proposition someone so beautiful and kind.”

“Ah, so the General was hiding behind a screen, then?” You laugh over the heat rising in your cheeks. “I’ve never known you to be a coward.”

Jing Yuan hums, and you pop up on the corner of your desk. He’s close enough to feel the heat of him, and see the threading of his uniform and the glitter woven into the rich fabrics.

“Hm, I wouldn’t say it has anything to do with cowardice.” Jing Yuan shakes his head. His breath is warm over your cheeks. “I planned to tell you my intentions of courting you at the Terraces, once you accepted. I, perhaps, was too presumptuous in expecting you to assume beyond my initial ask. I should have been more clear.”

You stifle a laugh and flex your hands, still held in his firm, but kind grip.

“Jing Yuan, if you continue to speak to me so directly, I’ll demand you take me out now and not this evening.”

“Is that so?”

“Entirely.” You struggle to maintain eye contact and not let your gaze drift down to his lips. “I’m not used to you speaking so clearly, only your riddles.”

“What riddles?” He tilts his head, curly, a sweet smile on his face that is far too mischievous for who he is expected to be.

“Oh, you know—”

“Do I?” Jing Yuan asks. He steps between your thighs, the width of him forcing your legs wider. As if your flush could be any more intense. “You must tell me more over lunch. I’ll send a message to Lady Fu and clear your schedule?”

“... She did say to take as long as we need to sort this,” You soften, a bit intimated, if only for a moment. “Is this sorted?”

Jing Yuan hums, “You did say you were wooed. I’d consider that fairly sorted.”

“And you’ll have me?” You ask him, daring to slide your arms over his shoulders. The contact bubbles up months of tension over Star Chess boards (during games that, perhaps, were not entirely platonic).

“I’d be honored.” Jing Yuan’s voice sounds sweet, more quiet than you’ve heard before, like it’s just for you to hear.

There’s an edge to it all still— something raw and new that will need to be tempered. That is the nature of immortality and the relationships and partnerships that come with it. Complexes develop, heal, and grow differently within the self. You’ve already gamed out a few of Jing Yuan’s (a cursed Master who he will only reference in melancholy, unrequited love he was too young for, so many tragedies that he somehow manages to give himself for not preventing). He is perceptive. You’re sure he has put together some of yours as well.

For now, there’s a promise of good things. There’s the feel of him pressing his lips to yours, gentle but unyielding, strung with a mutual yearning that, in retrospect, would’ve been a shame to crush and hide away. There’s the warmth of him so close, and closer still when you drag him closer by the nape of his neck.

You can feel his grin against your lips, and you mirror it easily.

No riddles, only a fragrant bouquet and intention.

#lore writes #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x you #jing yuan reader insert #hsr x reader #im very in love with him #he is so husband #feeling very soft and yearning about him lately AAAAH #enjoy :''^)

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angelisverba · 1 year

Text

kryptonite

in which y/n smokes weed (sometimes) and she thinks her dealer is super cute, and harry always gives her a little extra because she’s sweet

word count: 8.2k

pairing: plug!h and y/n

warning: if you are uncomfortable with the use of drugs, please do not continue reading!! i DO NOT want to see any messages in my inbox that talk of ‘glamourizing’ this drug. if you don’t like it-> don’t read it. mentions of bullying, peer pressure,

author’s notes: the second and final part to this fic will be posted next week, feb. 02 at 8am pst.

* * * * * * *

Harry hated parties.

Admittedly, they were a third of his source of income, but unless it wasn’t a gathering exclusively composed of his close circle, he didn’t want anything to do with it. They were too loud and sticky, messy and smelly. Red solo-cups littered at every available corner, half filled with Coca-cola, vodka, and the occasional sad, cigarette butt. Scantily clad girls and ‘discreet’ boys that didn’t know how to read body language that clearly screamed ‘I’M NOT INTERESTED!’. It just all got his nerves because half the time he knew they were only using him to get reduced prices on the marijuana he spent ample time on growing.

He tried, as a general rule, to limit his reluctant, brooding attendance to parties he knew would only consist of Mitch, Sarah, Adam, and the handful of other friends that just wanted to have a good time and a nice snuggle on a cramped couch that rumbled with intoxicated laughter. He liked being in a crowd he knew, it was much more intimate, less pressure-filled. He didn’t have to maintain that ‘polite’ air that was socially required in an atmosphere of people he didn’t know. No niceties or complimentary. When it was just him and his friends, all of that ‘quiet’ and ‘please, thank you’ shit wasn’t necessary. He could jump straight to his affectionate, giggly, sprawling-all-over-everyone’s-lap self, and no one would question it because they know it’s what he preferred.

But, at a big house party like the one where he was at, where everyone knew him as The One Guy Who Sells The Good Shit, Harry had to pretend to be polite and quiet and small, and adopt an overall stiff persona that made him prickly and cold. This wasn’t him. He didn’t like this, and wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for his very convincing friend Mitch, who noticed that business was slow and assured him that he was bound to 1) ‘sell a shit-ton’ and 2) gather a handful of new clients once they realized that what he had to dispense was pretty good quality for a subjectively cheap price.

Mitch had been right, of course.

The small black backpack of goodies that Harry had brought to this inconspicuous function had been empty in less than two hours, and he’d repeated his number enough times that it started to feel forgein on his tongue. Once or twice, a few girls had flashed him what could be called ‘bedroom eyes’, but he wasn’t in the mood to get his rocks off. When he came with a purpose to sell, any need, want, or hope for sex flew out of the window because then he ran the risk of girls thinking their ‘connection’ entitled them to some sort of discount on weed, and he didn’t particularly fancy ruining his post-coitous bliss with the awkward exchange of rejection that followed their questions.

Plus, it made him feel used.

A good three hours have passed, and he’s about to tell Mitch he’s ready to leave when his line of sight is snagged on the diamond image- no, a beautifully deceiving mirage, because there’s no way this girl is real. Not when she looks like a ditzy sprite, a walking mermaid, a glimmering fairy, a heart-wrenching siren, and any other bewitching, ethereal creatures that stole men’s souls upon the first breath they took in their presence. She looked like one of his psychedelic hallucinations that whispered sweet things to him and played with the ends of his hair when he’s in the lull of shrooms, brought to life. Grounded, real, and three-dimensional, not just in the airy, green-leafed recesses of his muddled mind.

This pretty little enchantment that caught his eye had floated into the room on two clumsy, shoddy-sneaker covered feet that extended from bambi-like legs with knees that were almost comically knocking against one another. She walked slanted, her shoulder pressed against her friend’s, whom Harry might have been able to recognize as Sarah if he spared his gaze, but that was impossible. So, he thought to himself, this is how magnets work? Even if he wanted to, he knew he wouldn’t be able to dislocate his line of sight from the socket it had carved itself into. Her cheeks, rounded with laughter and smiles, were dusted with the telling, glimmering sheen created by alcohol, and her eyes were bright, shiny, and starry from the handful of lamps that lit the living room. The slope of her waist, semi-shrouded deliciously from the billowy fabric of her powder blue summer dress (he couldn’t fucking believe she was wearing a dress when it was windy outside. Did she not care for her health?) and it made him think of the marvelous illusions created from marble. He was fond of going to museums and staring- for hours, at times- at statues of women draped in silk that were replicated with such precision, it was almost as if the wind was right there, rippling against the tantalizing figure of the unidentified female, so much so that an man was inspired to share his tortured vision. In solid form, nonetheless.

It made him wonder what the artist could see in real life. What they envisioned the model to be like underneath the heavenly fibers that twisted and turned restlessly with running air, preventing a clear grasp on the body underneath. Spurred to the point of such desolation, left with a hunger to resurrect what their mind’s eye consumed in physical format to live on forever and torment anyone else who looked.

He understood then. Understood that hunger and want for more.

She spun prettily like one of those ceramic ballerinas in a golden music box owned by children of important people, and that damn dress was both too loose and too free, moving around her with a protective fluidity from hungry, lovelorn wolves like him. He can’t hear her clearly because he’s too far away, but the snippets of her laugh that his ears manage to funnel down to his eardrums sound like a fairy’s tinkle.

She is a dream. Head thrown back before she replies with such enthusiasm and a strange half-lucidity that it has him leaning in to try and hear the drunken words that escape her soundless lips. He’s stuck in a moment of frozen time with her and only her. There’s a pinch behind his sternum when her head moves in his direction, and a strong titanic-worthy sink when she stops before even reaching his gaze. The words of some pop song from the early 2000’s skim cheesily through the background of his brain like a lonesome draft. Where have you been all my life?

Tunnel vision, he believes it might be called.

Next to him, Mitch bumps his shoulder, shattering his dangerously sharp focus with mumbled words that Harry doesn’t quite register with complete comprehension because they sound warped, as if they were spoken through a thick layer of glass or from underwater.

“What?” He blinks, his eyes stuck on her but his head rotated enough to the side that his friend knows he’s listening. He’s afraid that if he stops looking, or even blinks, she'll evaporate into thin air and he’ll spend the rest of his life wondering if she really was a mythical being conjured from his second-hand high.

Mitch clears his throat and hides a knowing twitch of his mouth beneath the rim of his drink, “I said her name is y/n.”

Harry, distracted and oblivious, is unaware that Mitch caught on to the focus of his attention, asks, “Who?”

This time, he can’t help but huff a chuckle, “This girl, H. Her name is y/n. She just started working with Sarah. Sarah says she keeps to herself, but there’s been a bit of… bullying, so she invited her out for a good time.”

“Bullying?” A faucet of anger opens in his major arteries and replaces his blood with a river of internalized rage. Bullying? Bullying her? His head whips around with enough speed to crack the vertebrae in his neck, and his thick brows furrowed with a fierce expression that would scare anyone that looked at him then (Mitch being exempt because he knew there would be no harm coming from that look). “What do y’mean bullying?” He spits the word out like it tastes foul.

Mitch takes another sip from the red solo cup, taking time to compose his face before continuing casually, “yeah. Y/n’s new, sweet, and quiet. Sarah says the others at work think that she’s their personal coffee runner or something. She tries to help her when she can, but she's not always around ‘cause of meetings or whatever.”

Harry sucks on his teeth and shakes his head, twisting again to observe y/n with mooney eyes, bitterness still simmering within him at the treatment she receives at her workplace. Especially when the smile he was so fortunate to witness made him taste caramel and honey and peach nectar and all of the sweet treats that traversed through his esophagus when the munchies hit. It warmed him to finally have a lovely name to attach to a lovely name.

Y/n. It settled nicely in his inner monologue, and he wanted to speak it. Test it on his tongue to see if it molded his lips as nicely as he imagined it would. It fit her, he thought. Y/n. Weirdly, Harry itched to throw it casually in a conversation with her. An exclamation. A wheezed whisper in the middle of a breathless laugh. In a greeting. In a goodbye. To grab her attention. To console. It was ridiculous! He didn’t even know her but he wanted, badly, for this party to transform into one of the more comfortable ones he had with his friends. For her to sit next to him on the couch his arm around the space behind her as she leaned into him unconsciously as the conversation continued. To grab her bicep in a nervous giggle when he stumbled after one too many. To share a bowl of chips with her (lime was his favorite, but he would eat barbecue flavored ones- his least favorite- if they were hers).

“Whose-”a burp, “motorcycle is blocking the driveway?!”

A clearly drunk male slurred from the front of the house, an arm raised as he swayed in a half-assed attempt to grab everyone’s attention, the drink in his hand sloshing onto the carpet and Harry winced, half from being startled and half from the suddenly stiffness that came with several pairs of eyes landing his way.

“Sorry, mate. That would be me.” He raised a finger in the air and bent at the waist to deposit his unfinished drink on a low black coffee table by his knees. He shrugged, rolling his lips into his mouth and turning to Mitch with his shoulders lifting with the beginnings of a hug, “‘was just gonna leave, anyway.”

“Early night, H?” Mitch mumbled, pressing a quick kiss on his cheek while embracing his friend, the ghost of a laugh lingering in his nasal passage. Harry’s cheeks turned a light pink and his nostrils flared in his attempt to hide his smile.

“Yup.” Harry returned the kiss, his nose digging onto the scruff of Mitch’s cheek, tickling him. Stepping back from their show of affection, he patted his palms against his thigh to make sure he had his phone and keys, and tugged the strap of the small backpack on his shoulder to verify it’s presence.

Mitch resumed his leaning position against the door frame, hand in his pocket, “alright. Text me when you get home.”

“‘Course.” Sparing one last glance in the charming sprite’s direction as he said his final goodbye, he was devastated to find that she had, in fact, disappeared, just as he’d feared.

He almost stayed to find her and watch over y/n like some sort of guardian angel, but he didn’t have the guts to go up to her. He hadn’t even finished one drink, so liquid courage wasn’t there to help him, not when he had to ride his motorcycle home. He almost asked Mitch to keep an eye on her for him, but it wasn’t necessary. Sarah was with her, and therefore he’s already watching her.

And from the comforting, yet teasing, twinkle in his friend’s eyes told Harry everything he needed to know. He knew that he was well on his way to cracking his head open over his heels.

Their friendship had always been one of little words.

******

Harry’s been delivering weed for a while now.

What started as a side hustle to obtain much needed income when times were tough developed into an interesting near full-time job with amazing results and benefits (he got to smoke weed for free now, since he grew it himself, but there was always that whole ‘don’t get high off your own supply’ rule, so he did limit himself). He had thought that he would have trouble attaining customers, but word spread like wildfire amongst his close circle of friends, which all happened to be free spirited individuals that harnessed the powers of nature, and then their friends, trusted friends, and so on and so forth.

It got to a point where he needed a separate phone for dealing alone because the ‘rush hour’ would meddle with his personal texts, leading to frequent ‘wrong person’ texts, and he traded his crappy car for a decent motorcycle so he could get to drop-off locations quicker. The added ‘badass’ effect also stroked his ego, so it was a wonderful bonus.

But the annoyance of being interrupted in the middle of something like, let’s say… an episode of Hannibal with a warm bowl of buttered popcorn in his lap always came in the same frustrating amounts.

Like now.

The Netflix screen pauses on Mads Mikkelsen’s face, spouting some bullshit about a tea cup, when his phone dings with a new notification. The sound is a specifically selected ‘ding!’ that is different from his personal phone so it’s easier to differentiate the purpose of the incoming message, and a rumbling groan vibrates from the back of his throat. Throwing his head back against his beat up, brown leather couch, Harry slams his hand around him until his ringed fingers click against the sleek device, and it automatically lights up as he brings it up to his face.

Unknown Number: Hi! Mitch gave me this number and said I’d be able to buy some pre-rolls?

Fucking Mitch. He often passes the number off to his buddies at the record store he works at. The dude started typing again, and the grey bubble with three dots wiggles at the bottom corner of the new text chat. Harry waited.

Unknown Number: If it’s too late for you, I understand.

It was, in fact, too late for him. But, money was money. He technically wasn’t doing anything important, so he would go and deliver to this-

Unknown Number: My name is y/n, by the way :D

Not a dude.

Fuck.

Not a dude.

The popcorn went flying off his chest and spilled all over the floor as he jumped up from his seat. Fuck. Y/n? Y/n with a smiley face. The girl from the party? His heart came to a stuttering stop, screeching like tired on asphalt breaking at a high speed as he came to the realization. The girl has haunted him like a stubborn will ‘o wisp for the past week was texting him. Albeit, it is for a service, but it was still something. The marijuana aspect of his situation didn’t bother him. He sold and consumed, it would be hypocritical of him if it did. Besides, she was an adult. She could do what she liked.

His jaw is on the floor, his eyes popping out of his head and he can’t believe what’s happening to him at that moment. He’d kiss Mitch on the mouth next time he saw him. It’s not until he sees the grey bubbles appear and disappear quickly again that he remembers the normal, usual response to this kind of situation is to type back. With trembling fingers, he pressed on keys, tapped on the backspace button, and repeated those motions several times because he had no idea what he was supposed to say- no, what was right to say to her. He had a standard response when it came to people who wanted to buy from him, but sending her prewritten message in his notes app that consisted of a short, perfunctory greeting followed by a menu-structured list of what he had available that day and their prices. There was no way in hell he’d send that to her.

Harry: Hello! It’s not too late for me to deliver. What can I help you with?

Unknown Number: Mitch mentioned that you offered a 2 for $35 deal?

Unknown Number: Is that still available?

Harry did offer a two-joint for thirty five bucks deal. Pre-rolled joints in cherry rolling paper about as long as his middle finger to the halfway point of his palm, semi-thickly packed with a hybrid blend of the two Mary-Jane plants (Sativa and Indica, none of that Maui Wowie, Blue Dream, or other strains; he liked to keep it simple) he had in a specially insulated box in the garage attached to the house he rented. It was his most popular sell; decent amount, excellent high, excellent trip. But… two? Was she smoking with someone else? Or was she saving one for a later time? He didn’t think she was the type to smoke two at once, but then again he didn’t know her, so her reasons were unclear to him.

However, if he arrived at her location and she was with someone (a male, specifically) his night would be ruined, because then that would mean that any marginal chance that he had with her was out of the question. And he couldn’t ask her right away because they hadn’t even properly met yet, and that would be weird and rude. That didn’t help his overthinking tendencies, and in a matter of seconds, Harry was sitting at the edge of his couch, popcorn crunching underneath his butt as a frown settled on his handsome features. Jaw set, lips puckered in contemplation with a pinch between his drawn eyebrows that casted shadows over his emerald eyes. He looked menacing, and his smattering collection of tattoos didn’t help either.

Or his motorcycle.

Or the intimidating stigma that came with his title of ‘plug’.

Stubborn as he was, this look of ‘don’t fucking talk to me’ would stay with him for the rest of the night, all because he couldn’t restrain himself from coming to incorrect conclusions. He didn’t know if y/n had a boyfriend, if she was with a friend, or if she would even be interest in him, but the sour thoughts that she did have a boyfriend and wouldn’t be interested in a ‘lowlife’ drug dealer loomed over him like a murky, stormy, thundering clouds.

He sent his response and changed her contact name.

Harry: I do!

Harry: Did you want to see the rest of the menu or are you set?

He knew he was being short with her. His messages were missing their customary smiley faces, the extra exclamation marks, the occasional x’s and o’s. He didn’t even type with capitalized letters, but in order to refrain from diving even further into this hole of hope, he decided that the change in his style of grammar would help him become emotionally distant. He just couldn’t bring himself to add them while he was in a stubborn, self-induced slump. While he looked angry, glittery butterflies beat their cellophane wings inside his ribcage and shook magical glitter onto his intestines, making them warm and queasy.

Y/n: I think that’ll be all for tonight

The causal mention of ‘for tonight’ gives him hope. That implied there would be other nights, and even though he’s currently grumpy because relationships are fucking complicated, he wanted to see her again and again.

Harry: Send your address, please.

She sends her location.

Harry: I’ll be there in 15 minutes.

Since he’s already half dressed in black jeans and a white Fruit of the Loom t-shirt from his earlier afternoon deliveries, he only has to part the crystal bead curtain in the doorframe of his living room to grab the leather jacket hanging from a bright yellow coat rack besides his door, and the backpack that he left in a slump besides his shoes (already packed with goods). He doesn’t think twice about the popcorn that’s scattered all over his floor and couch or that the Netflix “are you still there?” screen blinks black when he picks up his keys from the hook next to his door.

The garage opened when he pressed the button inside the kitchen hall, and he stepped out through the side door leading to the space where he kept his motorcycle. The owners before him had left a shit-load of junk that had taken up most of the space, and with their permission, he sold and threw most of it away. For the most part, it was empty. A bench, some boxes, and the white-refrigerator like rectangular box underneath the worktable along with his ride were the only things in there.

Grumbling and pouting like a petulant child, Harry clipped on his black helmet, flipped the visor down with two slender fingers, and dropped the backpack into the compartment attached to the backseat. A button on his keys closed the garage door behind him as he kicked aside the stand and swerved with a screech onto the road, the night air wrapping around bare throat as he cut through at a higher velocity than was surely legal on a residential street, but he didn’t see it as a crime when the heart was involved. He could picture himself explaining to the officer that pulled hi over in a hypothetical situation, that he was on his way to deliver drugs to the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, and the officer nodding solemnly at his noble cause.

Totally realistic.

Cars honked when he cut them off abruptly, and he gathered stares from the handful of people that were still wandering along the streets, spilling out at random intervals from bars. He had to cut through bits of the city to get to where she lived, and the three red lights that stalled his perusal were lucky that they were government property or else he would have damaged them in a severe fit of impatient rage. He tapped the tips of his shit-colored vans against the road and clenched his ringed fingers around the handlebars, engine roaring with pending release. He should have grabbed leather gloves, he thinks, if not to impress her, then at least to keep his fingers warm because it was an especially chilly night.

Harry’s pulling up to a brick building in exactly fifteen minutes. There’s fire escape ladders trickling down the side, and cement stairs leading up to a brown oak door with a thin window pane slightly left ajar while a burning yellow light seeps in a long bar across the steps like a satin ribbon. Several windows are bright with light from the inside, and the spare streetlamps that cast a spotlight on the sidewalk make the street unsettling, like someone is hiding in the shadows extending from tree trunks. Harry doesn’t like it one bit, and he hopes y/n isn’t walking these streets by herself at night.

He’s simultaneously taking his helmet off and reaching for his phone in his back pocket when he hears her small peep coming from the door.

“Hi!”

And then, she’s all he can see, hear, think. She’s just as absorbing and hypnotizing as the first time he saw her, even though she’s standing in what is clearly pajamas. A long, sage knitted sweater that ends at the tips of her fingers and just above her knees, making her look like a leafy blob. Black sweatpants that are just as loose and baggy shadow the faint silhouette of her legs. Y/n is fiddling with her fingers, picking whatever color nail polish paints her nails (Harry can’t see because he’s too far away) and it makes him want to soothe her hands with his own. She’s tugging her bottom lip between her teeth and she probably doesn’t even realize that her eyebrows are furrowed and the bunch on her brow-bone casts comic-like shadows across her pretty little face.

Stupidly, because he can’t think of anything else to say other than ‘hello’ but he thinks that’s lame, he clears his throat and says, “how’d you know I was here?”

“Your… uhm- your motorcycle,” she points with a finger to the machinery beneath his bum. He’s leaning against it, not wanting to intimidate her by crowding her space in a dark-ish place but he doesn’t realize it actually makes him look very intimidating and ‘bad-boy’ looking. Especially with the leather jacket, “was kinda loud.”

“Mmm,” he hums his acknowledgement, because at that last corner he had purposefully revved the engine more than necessary. To impress her or to sate his devilish tendencies, was unclear. The space between his collarbones feels like it’s inflating and deflating with every rapid pulse of his heartbeat, and for the first time in a while, he doesn’t know where his ‘game’ is. He feels lame, at a loss for how to act around an angel when he was nowhere near her level. Hell, did this count as corruption of her innocence? He was selling her drugs for fuck’s sake.

At this realization, a heavy, sticky, nasty weight slathers itself all over his back and it can only be described as guilt. Should he be selling her weed? Should he even be morally conscious at this point? He sells weed to teenagers when he’s sure they aren’t narcs, but this wasn’t some zit-faced twerp.

This was y/n.

A few seconds of silence pass and she’s just staring at him, her lips rolling like there are words she's holding in and Harry staring at her with a closed-off expression, thick chocolate eyebrows furrowed deep in concentration because he’s memorizing every curve of her face to look back on when she wasn’t with him anymore. It’s after her first intake of breath with her mouth open that he snaps out of it and twists hurriedly to yank out the pink baggie with shiny red cherries printed on them. His current special, though he saved the decorated packaging for his closer group of friends because he knew it made them happy and he loved seeing that smile on their faces, but he wasn’t going to tell her that (and secretly he hopes it might put a dent on his irrational guilt).

“Here are y’cherry joints,” he holds it out, pinched between two fingers and his lips are a hard line as his heart beats out of his chest because- oh, god} she’s stepping closer and she smells really good and-

“‘Kay, uhm…” She takes the bag from him and mentally, Harry curses because she chooses to cup the underside of the bag and that wipes all chances of their fingers accidentally touching. She won’t meet his eyes, she’s shifty on her feet, and he doesn’t know how to tell her not to be nervous without sounding like a creep, “I’ve n-never done this before, and Mitch didn’t say if you took cash or Venmo so I brought my phone and wallet because I wasn’t sure which one you preferred.”

His heart goes through the life cycle of a dandelion. It blooms, yellow with happiness and new life breathed into his seedling soul by the sound of her voice, and transforms into the wispy tufts that fly away, ditzy and twirling from her sweet breath. All the while she holds him in her hand, smiling.

But all of these feelings are hidden away under his mask of self-preservation, writhing and squirming like worms. He gives away nothing, his eyes looking a little dead even though the in-between space where his head meets with the nape of his neck is damp with nervous sweat and he remains stiff and lazily posed against his motorcycle because he’s sure if he didn’t have that support his knees would knock together and sound like the cue ball hitting a winning shot in an empty pool hall.

Carding his hand through his unruly curls, he realizes that he should’ve styles his hair before leaving the house or foregone the helmet entirely, not caring about dying because first official impressions should be killer, and the extra harsh cut in his British drawl when he rasps, “cash is fine,” has to do with his own annoyance.

Y/n is flustered, evidence of that clearly sprawled all over her cheeks and base of her throat which he can see even in the darkness. She lifts the front end of her sweater with a paw-hand and Harry’s insides explode. Her phone and folded dollar bills are squeezed between the band of her bottoms and bare skin of her stomach. For just a second, the beautiful second in which she plucks the money from her body, he catches sight of a white, lacy bra-band that looks glorious while backdropped by the plane of her abdomen. He discovers the meaning of life and death, and wishes for a bit of both because this is torture.

The back of his mouth is drier than the sahara desert. Two tender fingers give him Holy ten and five dollar bills, and her angelic voice sings, “thank you,” when he takes it from her like a beggar.

Harry is an asshole because he can’t even respond with words only a hum of ‘mhm’ before swinging his leg over his ride and muttering a half-hearted, choked, ‘see you’ before roaring away.

****

He tries to invalidate his rapidly growing crush. Truly. He wants to brush it off his shoulder like dust because it’s annoying and distracting to constantly think about her, but nothing works.

In retrospect, he was even psychologically rude about it, trying- and failing- to find negative qualities about her or flaws in her appearance, but his fawning heart wouldn’t allow such disrespect to the receiver of it’s pesky little affections. The worst he could come up with was that her eyes looked as if some snot-nosed, uncoordinated, messy little kid had shaken an entire bottle of glitter onto a piece of copy paper and called it a day. And that her voice was soothing enough to coax that same child into comfortable, cow-jumping-over-moons dreams.

He wishes he were that hypothetical child rocked to sleep by her lulling voice because by the way things were going, he’s having a pretty hard time getting a wink of sleep because every time his phone vibrates he snaps straight up like his spine is locked and obsessively searched his phone for her name. And he’s tried putting his phone on ‘Do Not Disturb’ but it only makes it worse because what if he texts her and he doesn’t see it because he’s sleeping?

All of the customers that came after her, during his period of constant surveillance over his ‘trap phone’ received the best delivery times and the snarkiest attitude he’s ever had to offer. The morning sun isn’t as bright as it used to be and the moon is dimmer than usual because nothing can compare to her. He misses her terribly and it’s stupid because he doesn’t even know her and she probably thinks he’s a jerk because he acts like such a dick.

Mitch thinks it's funny that he’s so twisted about a girl. ‘A’ girl because even though he was high when he spilled his secret to his friend, he doesn’t think he could stand a potential breach of his privacy in the case that Sarah found out.

“I haven’t heard from her in a while,” Harry said.

“Do something about it,” Mitch said.

And well, what the fuck was he supposed to do? It’s not like he can reach out to her to ask her if she wants to buy more weed. That would seem greedy and insensitive on his part; a money hungry dealer. He’s already in a limbo of moral dilemmas that shouldn’t exist in the first place and he doesn’t want to complicate it by any form of shady communication.

His dilemma, however, was solved by whatever divine being that dared to bear witness to his nonsensical pleas to the ether. It seemed as though she favored the night and dark for her ‘picking up’, because the delightful ding! came at the thirty minute mark of his tossing and turning.

With the sheets rumpled around his waist and his templed damp with faint beads of perspiration, Harry straightened in the same way he has for the past month, only the tedious exhaustion of it not being her was begging to gnaw at him. Was this what it felt like to be paranoid? Snapping alert at every single indication of a phone because you think it’s the IRS- or the girl who infects your mind, in his case- calling to demand a service?

Preparing for disappointment again, Harry picked up the phone and squinted as his pupils adjusted to the sudden change in light.

Y/n: Hello, Harry! This is y/n. You delivered to me last month? Are you available for delivery at the moment?

There is a muted thud as his phone slips out of his shocked hands and lands on the rumpled duvet. A thundering set of drums replaces his beating heart and his jaw remains slack because it has lost the ability to close. The perspiration on his hairline transfers to the cave of his hands. For weeks he’s been in a constant state of glum, waiting for her next text, and now that he has it the only thing going through his mind is oh my god, oh my god.

Still, through his haze he manages to reply with,

Harry: Hi!

Harry: Yes, I remember, and yes, I’m available

What he really wanted to say, and what he should have sent was, how could anyone forget you? You haunt me day and night. But that was a little obsessive, and probably would have scared her off before they even got anywhere.

Harry: Would you like to see what I have available?

Y/n: Please :D !

The pre-written list of items he has available changed this week. He’s added some chocolate edibles, brownies, and gummy bears that he picked up for a cheaper, wholesale price at the dispensary he frequents, and it makes him wonder if she’ll dare to buy them. He had one a few days ago at Mitch’s place with Sarah and has a smashing time. He couldn’t stop petting their cat, Texas, because the feel of her brown fur between his fingers was heavenly.

Grey bubbles appear and disappear several times along with his intake of oxygen before a long text appears, listing everything she wants from his makeshift ‘menu’ and… it’s a lot. The last time he received an order like this it was for a frat party that one of Mitch’s coworker’s friend’s brother referred him to, and it took him an entire week of rolling and baking to get his inventory back up. His kitchen smelled like weed-butter for a solid month.

Harry: Give me a moment to make sure I can sell you everything. Pretty large order…

The chipped black paint on his nails became a dark blur as his fingers typed, deleted, and typed uncertain words over and over again before finally settling on a sentence that was… neutral and didn’t send the wrong meaning. Usually, with his customers he was a mixture of blunt and friendly, but y/n wasn’t just a customer, and it made everything ten times harder.

Y/n: I’ll take whatever you have, please! Take your time, I don’t mean to stress you out

If she said please one more time, Harry was sure that he would become a liquid, coagulated version of himself among the mess of his blankets.

Jerking his ankles free of the fabric snake that snared him to a useless bed, he clambered off, knuckling at his tired eyes and shivering as the cool, still air of his room wrapped itself around the warmth of his body. Reaching into his closet for the first things he finds, a dark green hoodie and grey sweatpants, Harry yawns and dramatically stretched with his arms way above his head, hoping that the movement would push out the feeling of loneliness that was beginning to take purchase between his ribs, right underneath his heart.

Another late night, another delivery. He wished there was someone in his bed to call him back. Please don’t go, they’d say, the bed is cold without you in it. A warm hand trailing like a ghost against his thigh as he walked away, and a sleepy smile or groan of displeasure as his goodbye. He might not stay in the bed, but he would be happy- no, elated, to know that he would be coming back to someone.

The grow light of his makeshift greenhouse tinted his skin purple as he rummaged through all of his pre-rolled and pre-packaged items, his phone at his side as he checked off everything she has asked for.

9 of the Cherry Deals

6 of the citrus-infused pre-rolls

4 lavender-infused

10 brownies

And 2 8ths

In total, it came out to 28 joints.

Which is… well, a lot for just one person, or two, or three (unless you’re Snoop Dog or something). Packing everything up into four separate paper bags, and then a larger white bag so that she isn't filling with all of the smaller ones, he types out another cold text.

Harry: Okay I have everything.

Harry: Send the address, please.

She sends the address, and Harry follows the same routine as the last time, nearly eating shit as he flew out into his garage. Excitement bubbles in his guts at the same increment and volume of his motorcycle’s initial purr. Flipping open the back compartment he usually stores things in, he realizes that there is no way it’s all going to fit inside, so he turns on his heels to grab a backpack from inside and then he realizes that he’s not wearing any shoes. The smooth, grey floor is cold against the arches of his bare feet, and his brows furrow at his own insolence. Had he been so wrapped up in… everything that he didn’t put on shoes?

Rolling his eyes at his own actions- and feeling a little embarrassed that he’d let it happen- Harry returned to his home and snatched up the first pair of fashionable compatible shoes within his reach (green converse the same shade of his sweater) and the backpack to place the white bag in ( a little redundant, but he didn’t think holding it while he rode would be a good idea). Rushing back to the garage, he hoped that he wouldn’t come up empty with words like he had the time before.

The last thing he wanted to do was scare her away.

***

He was right about it being a party.

At least three minutes before he was flipping down his kickstand, the thundering bass of some rap song (he thinks he can hear ASAP Rocky, but he’s not too sure) shakes the streets and the trees. It’s a house party in a building that was too big to fit into the word ‘house’, but yet too small to fit in ‘mansion’. Toilet paper and trash litters the front yard while couples make out and loners smoke cigarettes, or maybe joints, out on the generous porch. Sports cars and beat up rides pack the driveway and most of the street in front of the house, so it makes it really difficult to station his motorcycle in an area where he has a clear view of who’s coming in and out of the house, and therefore, really hard to spot y/n.

That is until-

“Hi, Harry!”

She’s sitting down on the curb with her arms around her legs and her chin on top of her legs, looking… scared. Her eyes were blown open like a newborn doe, and the sprawl of her limbs as she unravels from her sitting position to a wobbly stand mimics the shaky, knocking knees of a filly that is learning how to walk for the first time. Her voice is even headier than it was the last time he heard it, like windchimes in the spring chill.

Harry’s eyes roam over her with no attempt to conceal his blatant appreciation for the fuzzy sweater falling down to her mid-thigh. They seem to have become a pattern with her. This time, it’s a baby blue crew neck and a pair of jeans, and y/n’s has tried to tie her hair up into a bun at the back of her hair but spiky pieces stick out the back and tendrils swap her ears, making her look like a soft, smudge-y dream.

“Hello,” he says softly, not needing to clear his throat this time. He steps forward a bit, so he can hear her better (or at least that’s what he tells himself), “s’good to see you again.” Harry’s words are louder and more amicable than the last time he greeted her, and his lips part in a crooked friendly smile which she returned with the same tentativeness. There’s something off about her this time around. She’s pulling at her sleeves and shifting her feet, glancing over her shoulder as soon as she’s standing straight and her eyes won’t stand still on Harry’s figure for more than a few, burning seconds.

“It’s good to see you, too! I hope I’m not waking you up every time I text, though,” an exhaled laugh left her lips, and she dropped her gaze down to her shoes. Y/n rocked on her feet, once and then twice. “I think I’ve… I’ve made a habit of texting you late at night.”

And he blushes, “I- uhm… I was having a hard time sleeping, so you didn’t wake me. It’s fine.”

If only she knew that he was having a hard time sleeping because his subconscious was a bothered brat over not seeing her again. Pleading words of requests to ask her never to stop texting him were dancing on the tip of his tongue, banging against his barricaded lips and begging to come out. However, he didn’t think such daring words were fitting with their barely budding relationship. They were pitiful and needy, like a puppy, and frankly, Harry didn’t want to present that image.

“Oh,” she stilled her movements, checked over her shoulder again and then looked him in the eyes and said, “are you okay?”

“M’fine, yeah. Just got a lot of you on my mind at the moment,” he says. It makes y/n furrow her brows and tilt her head at him like a little cat, only then that he realize what he has said, “Things! Got a lot of things on my mind. Sorry,” he clears his throat, looks away while hanging his helmet on the handle of his ride. “Haven’t been sleepin’ much.”

“Aw, I’m sorry. That sucks,” y/n pouts. Pouts at him. And he just blinks. Doesn’t smile or laugh.

“S’alrigh’. Y’got quite a large order this time. Havin’ a party?” As soon as the words left his mouth he wanted to slap his palm against his forehead. He probably sounded stupid, given there was clearly a raging party going on in the house behind her. Of course she was having a party, what he should’ve said what ‘what are y’celebrating?’ or ‘are you here alone?’. Like the ‘do you have a date?’ kind of alone.

“You got it right? Thank you. And… something like that, I guess. I’m a bit nervous, honestly, because I’ve never…” She shrugs, looking away from him and back to the house.

“Never been to a party like this?” He’s confused. Surely he can’t mean that she’s never smoked before? Right? Because if that were the case, then what did she do with the weed he gave her last time? And what was she doing at a party were they were on this much drugs.

“No! No, no, I’ve never… smoked before.” She’s adamant in shaking her head. Her hands too, splayed wide like jazz hands.

“Y’never smoked before? What about last time?” Harry hates how it sounds as though he’s accusing her, but he can’t seem to control the way his words are coming out of his mouth, not around her, and it’s making him look like a dick. What he wants to do is smile and tease her, to find some way to ask her if she would like to share a joint with him without sounding too sleazy.

Shaking her head, “those were for my roommate and his boyfriend.”

“Oh.” Harry’s heart pitter-patters in his chest, his mouth in a straight line, and although there’s an abundance of emotions elbowing against the other in his chest, he shows none of them.

“Yeah,” awkwardly, she shifts her weight from heel to heel, arms crossed before reaching into her pocket and bringing out a folded wad of cash. “$540, right?”

“That’s right, but…” C’mon man, he scolds himself, pull it fucking together. This is a concerning situation. Surely she can’t be buying this much this time and not plan on participating. “Are you gonna be a’right?”

Worrying her lips between her teeth, she lets out a deep breath before answering. Smiling and nodding as she answers as if she wants to convince herself, “I think so. How hard can it be?”

“Pretty hard if it’s y’first time, sweetheart,” Harry forces himself to smile a little, but instead it looks as though he’s grimacing. “Will y’friends walk y’through it?”

Y/n looks back at the house again, and shuffles her feet. She’s got a sad little look in her eye, droopy and shy. Great. He was making her uncomfortable. “They’re n-not really my friends,” she says, “but I guess so.”

What? “What?” The word is sharp in his mouth. What the fuck was she doing, then? Hanging with people that she didn’t look all that enthused to be with, buying their weed, standing out here all alone?

“They’re not-”

A male comes out of the house, red solo cup in hand, and he’s not wearing a fucking shirt. He’s waving a hand in the air, trying to flag y/n down Harry assumes, and he’s offended for her. Harry’s brows furrow and his hands curl into fists behind his back. Why isn’t he wearing a shirt? What the fuck is he drinking and why is he being so disrespectful interrupting their conversation this way? All for some weed?

Now on the last step, the guy shouts, “Y/n, what’s taking so long?”

The poor girl jumps, startled, and her eyes go wide. “Sorry, I’ll be in soon!” Y/n shoves the money at him, frazzled, and takes the paper bag from his hands. “Here's $560, Harry. The rest is a tip. You can count it if you’d like!”

“It’s alright, here you-” she’s already bounding away from him, but he doesn’t want her to go, and somehow, he finds the will to call her back. He just wanted her to look at him once more, because she wasn’t even inside yet, but he missed her gaze. “Y/n!”

She stops, and he gets exactly what he wants. Her attention. “Yes?”

Harry swings a leg over his motorcycle and gets ready to leave before he does anything stupid like… like trying to hold her hand or something. Who knows, he lost his ability to act his age around her. “Have a water bottle at your side,” he’s mumbling almost, “and don’t take too much in on your first try. Exhale and don’t freak out when y’start coughing. Or embarrassed. It’ll be okay. And… and do y’best to relax.”

“Thank you, Harry.”

And y/n smiles at him.

It’s small, and it’s meek the way a feral kitten approaches a human with food. Scared, and rightfully so, because Harry wants to scoop her up and take her home.

“Of course. Have a safe night.”

She nods and walks away with another piece of his heart in her hands.

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fluff oneshot #harry styles fic #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #harry styles smut imagine #harry styles fanfic

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 8 months

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Hi, could u do yandere ciel, sebastian, ran mao, lau, ash, and hannah from black butler with a reader like teruhashi from saiki k, shes basically a really pretty girl who believes she is completely perfect but acts sweet and humble outside, and has a huge fan club involving other nobles and important politicans, and is actually loved by literal gods and is seen as a goddess to other ppl with ppl willing to sacrifice their life for them all bc just for her beauty.

Teruhashi Reader | Yandere Black Butler

Your beauty is other-wordly, causing all to indescribable chase after your heart and happiness. As it's always been. And just as your fan base has always been so has your arrogance and narcissism. You know you’re the perfect of most perfect and it's all going to your plan. You worried that even those who might have an inkling of your true thoughts might think to stop you but just like the others they're just as obsessed with you:

Ciel Phantomhive

“If you’d be willing, the Phantomhive estate would appreciate your visit.”

He’s not offering this is a warning

He wouldn’t trust the uninformed masses to mishandle you

It's best you stay within his trusted care

Forget about being a bargaining chip

He sees how others revolve around you and he feels the need to insert himself

Perhaps protect you like he wasn’t

Sebastian Michaelis

“You are truly someone of power, to deceive so many humans. It's admirable.”

Sees through your actions easily

Your character is an enigma he finds himself falling for all the same

Perhaps it's not the universal charm you seem to have but your general behavior

Either way, he’s more than happy to be commanded to protect your blissful existence

And it's more than entertaining to watch how the world bends to your twisted will

Ran Mao

“...keep?”

She doesn’t need to speak often for all to know she loves you

Nuzzling into your neck, hugging you from behind, squeezing your chest

Her lack of boundaries works perfectly for her

And you’d be none the wiser holding her roaming hands that had the blood of potential suitors on them

But if Lau approves she’ll start making moves to exact their will

Lau

“Yes, I think that’s a delightful idea Ran Mao!”

He’s intrigued and in love at first sight

Now that first sight most definitely is not when Ciel holds that ball

No doubt he’s been aware of your existence for awhile

Its only a matter of time before he starts making moves to have you in his grasp

Ash Landers

“Such purity! You truly are the diamond surrounded by human scum!”

Is definitely unbiased lies

He’s not in love he’s aware of your true purity lies again

He’s madly obsessed no doubt putting you on a deity-like level

He will commit all sorts of atrocities in your name

And should you protest he twists your words

or worst of all he decides you've becomes poisoned

To which he’ll happily sorrowfully remove you’re infected self

Hannah

“My master wishes for you to stay…won’t you please (Y/n)?”

As always Alois’ will is but her own

She’s just happy they match up this time

She’d want nothing more than for you to join their family

No doubt she knows her master and he’d refuse to…punish you the way he does her

It’d warm her heart if you came willingly

A family shouldn’t stay apart for too long

#yandere black butler #yandere sebastian michaelis #yandere sebastian michealis #yandere sebastian x reader #yandere sebastian michaelis x reader #lovelyyandereaddictionpoint #yandere ran mao #yandere lau #yandere hannah black butler #yandere kuroshitsuji #yandere ash landers #yandere ciel phantomhive #yandere ciel #yandere x reader

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sorcerous-caress · 7 months

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Okay as great as crybaby!tav is we really glossed over the potential of mommy!Tav. I may be a smidge bias because that’s a lot like my tav, as she’s so damn determined to take care of her friends and was a baker before she was an adventurer so she’s constantly just doting on the companions offering them pastries. It’s a little self indulgent but My Tav has a little quirk that she grew up food insecure and just absolutely refuses to eat until she knows everyone else has eaten because she can’t bear the thought of any of her friends potentially going hungry. She’s normally very submissive and sweetly to all of them but no amount of begging, discipline or concern will break her because she just cares so damn much. Could you write the dom mom squad™️ reacting too something like that, who tries to comfort them? Who is incensed that she doesn’t believe they can provide? Who gets so hung up on the fact she’s being stubborn they forget the original issue?

A submissive mommy who can cook and give good hugs will literally fix 90% of the gang here, unironiclly.

Reacting to a very motherly Reader

[Bg3 women, fluff, dom mommies, afab!reader, fem pronouns, sub!reader ]

Karlach would relish in your dotting.

During her life in the hells, she was both touch starved and food starved for so long. You being there to encourage her with the pep talks, headpats, and occasional pie is everything she has ever dreamed of and more.

As much as she wants to be the one to take care of you, she can't help but let relish in you fussing over her. The coddling, the comfort, and the constant attention are slowly frying her brain from how happy she is.

Did she die and go to heaven?

She becomes very protective of you, never lets you carry heavy stuff, and always asks if you need her to bring you ingredients or something during her errand runs. No, no, you don't have to tire your pretty little legs. Just stay in camp all sweet and pretty while she goes out and brings you everything you need.

If you didn't know any better, you'd think she's subconsciously treating you like her stay at home wife.

She really likes hovering around while you cook, watching you work attentively and sometimes begging for a sample taste with her puppy eyes.

And yes you being the one feeding her those samples is very important, it enhances the taste a lot.

It might take her a while to notice the fact that you were always the last one to eat. Or how you immediately offered your plate if someone else wanted seconds.

She thinks it's very sweet at first but slowly grows more and more concerned at your well-being.

I mean, if she had to, she would sit on your lap to prevent you from getting up as she hands you a plate of food. Your stern talk will just make her feel guilty and sad but she'd refuse to let you get up.

As much as she loves nothing more than to obey her mommy, sometimes she also needs to take care of her mommy like she takes care of her.

Minthara would admire your ways.

Tenderness and love were never words that anyone in her culture used to describe a mother, an ilhar. No, they tend to fall more on the brutal and disciplinary side.

An ilhar meant authority, control, and order. To defy her is to commit a sin. To show weakness in front of her is even worse.

She is reminded by that cultural difference whenever someone describes you as motherly.

The only thing you had in common with the matrons of the underdark was that underlying strength. That unbreakable will hidden so deep inside you, the urge to survive at any cost and defend your subordinates. She admired it greatly.

You were very strong deep down, strong to be truly worthy of the description of motherly. That kind of strength that the males will never understand, the kind of strength that nurtured even more strength.

So when a person like you showered her in hugs, kisses, and even brushed and styled her hair for her from time to time, how could she ever be ungrateful and say no?

You were generous and kind even when you had no need to be, you were selfless to a concerning degree.

She had to put a stop to that.

Minthara respects you too much to use any of the punishments or disciplinary ways that her matrons taught her. She will talk to you like an equal because that's what she sees you as.

She will be very patient with you. Stopping you when your self sacrifices become too much for your health to bear, Reminding you that you also require as much food and rest as the rest of them.

She'll teach you to relay on her slowly, as gentle as she possibly can be. Which...isn't very gentle, honestly, but she is genuinely trying her best.

Jaheira feels like you complete her.

As an actual mother to so many children, Jaheira still never truly grasped the whole motherly vibe people keep preaching about. Her kids are safe, fed, cleaned, and trained in combat. Isn't that enough?

So what it if she was absent on missions a lot, need I remind you that her line of work concers the safety of the whole world? What kind of mother would she be if she let the whole world, which included her kids, end just because she picked to stay at home and colour with her youngest.

She knows it doesn't excuse it. Give her a break. She is at the end of her age and hasn't had someone by her side since in a long while.

That's why when you suddenly appear in her life with all of the qualities she was severely lacking in, she almost thinks it's too good to be true.

...you almost remind her of a certain someone she lost long ago. You're just as soft and caring to others. Ironically enough people also underestimate a lot because of your kindness too.

She is drawn to you, like a moth to a flame.

Jaheira can't help it. You shine with radiance, and she hasn't felt warmth in so long.

The first few days she brings her kids home-cooked meals, they immediately hold a knife to her throat as they demand this doppelganger tell them where their real mother is.

But after some very awkward conversations, and having to bring you into her house as actual proof. They realised that their mother's stone heart can still beat after all apparently.

Shadowheart tries to play it cool, fails.

She has an edgy mysterious aura she needs to keep, and you're making it very hard for her. How is she supposed to be this dark, cool cleric of Shar when you keep gifting her these hand-knitted pastel sweaters with the most loving look in your eyes.

Of course she will wear them, she isn't heartless.

She's really trying not to show how touched she is when you look for her during dinner at camp to make sure she got her plate. She can't help the blush on her ears when you wipe some food from the corner of her mouth.

She's mean to people on your behalf when they're rude to you or try to take advantage of your submissiveness. Actually she is just mean to people in general if she doesn't like the way they look at you.

Loves taking naps on your lap, absolutely adores when you play with her hair or braid it. Your thighs are the perfect pillows for her to rest her head on and just forget about the outside world and her mission for a while.

She saves the best wine she finds to share it with you later, or the best sweets or fancy jucies if you don't drink. She had to defend her stash from both Gale and Wyll wandering hands, absolutely refusing all of their offers or begging for some of that fancy cheese or that perfectly aged wine bottle.

You're the only person she ever shares it with. She doesn't even want anything in return. She just loves seeing you happy and relaxed every once in a while. You always take care of them, so it's about time that someone takes care of you too.

Laezel has killed people for disrespecting you.

And she'll do it fucking again. These worms forgot their place. She doesn't even care how little their offence is, just efficiently ending their miserable life.

Why do you have a look of disappointment on your face? She did them a favour. She even made it painless and quick to compromise for your feelings.

Chk. Your softness will be the end of you. Be grateful that she is here to prevent that from ever happening.

You threaten not to take her with you on errand runs anymore if she doesn't put her sword away? You really think you can survive without her?

...okay yeah actually you can. You make a really valid point.

If it was anyone else she'd have taken that request as an insult on her honor, but since it's you...

Fine. She will listen for now.

And maybe if you keep making more of those faerun dishes, she will find it easier to listen to you. Especially the apple pie ones.

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jellazticious · 4 months

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bing bong bootleg SS au

very long ramble under the C

stuff are subjected to change

The working title isn't solidified but I'm leaning on either Candy Castle or Pastry Castle

Tho I think I'm gonna go for pastry cuz it has the same amount of letters as castle much like pizza and tower have the same number too

The tower is a gingerbread castle. According to a friend of mine (It's Beefy, it's always Beefy go follow him) that Hispanics love their bakeries and yeah, I guess that makes sense. Not only do I have a theme based on the protag's culture but also the theme gets narrowed down to just baked sweets. Candy in general is too broad, I would die figuring out how to put every kind of sweet in it, and if I did it's gonna be really cluttered hooboy

Noise is called Theo because that's Peppino's name formula. Peppino is a nickname for Giuseppe so I thought I'd give Noise's swap a nickname to Theodore as the main name

Hazel Nutt is pretty self explanatory cuz Noisette means hazelnut in French

Their outfits are pretty simple to mirror Peppino and Gustavo's with just coloured shirts and aprons

Hazel doesn't get a mount because she would have Theo's prototype rocket skates. Just like Gus, she would have different stages of getting used to the skates per floor. First she gets blasted from end to end cuz she can't control the thrust. Second, she manages to turn it off but she's trying to keep balance on it. Third, she catches her breath now that she could stand still without moving or slipping. Next she would make a card castle, in reference to the very castle they're inside. and lastly she'd be holding a box of sweets without giving a shit about the scary floor.

To parallel the og Noisette, Hazel would smile bigger when Theo faces her direction.

Hazel is also Theo's delivery gal to match and switch with how Peppino WAS Gustavo's delivery guy

The "kick the rat" function would be Hazel swinging one of the skates and the cops grabbing Brick would instead hold a weapon detector that also functions as a magnet

Unlike Peppino, Theo is more aggressive than anxious. Imagine an injured cat defending itself from what it thinks is a threat

the name of Pizzaface's swap is Pieface for obvious reasons 😭

but HEAR ME OUT

both pizzaface and pieface are used as insults. pizza face is used for people with so much acne and pie face is used for someone with a flat face or dull expression. It isn't just a pun on what food the characters are made of. Pieface is also a reference to the trope where people headshot other people with pies. With the mech floating towards the protag, it would look like a pie is being thrown and targeted at Theo

Honestly drawing what food makes his face is so fun. Did you know that before the croissant smile it was supposed to be syrup shaped to a smile? The nose was a long whip of cream before turning into a cut strawberry for the mustache effect

Pizzahead's candy version would be called Gingerhead because of how ridiculous it sounds.

Gingerhead is based on Willy Wonka much like how Pizzahead is based on Ronald McDonald which is why he has more of a showman look than a clown look

okay side note, it just occured to me how ironic PH being based on Ronald is considering McDo's isn't a pizza place

actually Wonka doesn't even sell cakes and shit so, I guess it's fair game

Theo has the nickname Muffinman to reference the rhyme. but this time, it's the gingerbreadman chasing the baker

Next up is Mr S, who would be Peppino but he becomes rich. Mr S is the stage name he uses. He is a known celebrity much as Noise is but he is more of a boxer than a host. Like Dwayne Johnson or something. His name is partially a reference to ResEvil's Mr X, another absolute unit of a guy

also the reason why he doesn't wear a shirt. He's committing to the bit. If he needs to cover himself when he isn't playing a role, then there's his robe. He doesn't take out his mask most of the time tho

Mr S's mask is based on the Chef Raider design but also part of the scrapped superhero design much like Pizzano. Actually speaking of Pizzano, S is characterized so similarly to him cuz Pizzano is the only SS character who was actually written well to my standards. To be fair we've seen too much of Peppino to flunk characterizing him sksksk

Since this is Peppino that Mr S is based on, he's not as tech savvy or as self centered as Noise so he doesn't have robots that look like himself. Instead he has ants for a crew

the ants swap the place of rats. the rats in PT reference the new york pizza rat while ants just generally eat your food especially if it's sweet when left alone for five minutes

the ants come from Mr G, who would be Gustavo's swap with Noisette. He's Mr S's lawyer. at the end of S's bossfight, G would snatch him away with Click (the ant) because S would make a foul and embarrassing move on live camera

I can't seperate Gustavo and Brick so Click stays with Mr G instead of assisting Hazel

inside what would be Noisette cafe, instead of Mr G and Click being behind the counter, they would be sitting as customers next to Caraman. the barista isn't seen anywhere

Honestly when I'm writing everyone, my logic of swapping them isn't "make them switch places AND personalities" but more of "write every single one of them with the og personality because giving them a different lifestyle/role would drastically change their motives and how they behave"

I'm practically just swapping each character's place of birth

I mentioned this because it's kinda funny with Noisette and Gus since they play the exact same role of assisting Peppino/Noise so swapping them won't change much in how they act. They also have the same cheery and welcoming personality by default so Hazel and Mr G would act REALLY similar to their og

The only difference is that Gustavo can be threatening whenever Peppino fucks up. It fits right in with being a lawyer for the same goon

Now we got Mel Caraman who would become this au's Vigi. Lemme just say off the bat that Caraman is just as delusional as Vigi. He gets hired as a guard for floor 2 and took it way too seriously that he thinks he's some sort of sentinel. Hired as a guard but thinks he's an ancient guardian or something

his name vaguely references James Bond because you also VAGUELY get "caramel" out of "Caraman, Mel Caraman"

Caraman is a caramel apple but he's half glazed to form an eyemask. he's also got a stick poking out his head that stretches his chorro hat. the big hat makes him look cooler anyways. Bro I was so ready to settle for a shitty wild west mayor hat and I owe Beefy one for suggesting a new hat. I was gonna make him look like Doug Dimmadome with the short brimmed tall hat😭😭😭

but yeah Caraman doesn't have the same dignity as Vigi does. He can fight crime decently on normal circumstances and badass when he's full serious. But like day in day out he's so obnoxious about looking for crime that people get tired of him nor would they take him seriously

he would also be mistaken for a pepper

Next to last, Cam M. Bert or just Bert who would take place of Pepperman. he's an artist who appreciates the world instead of himself, a freelancer also. There was only a bossfight because he was coincidentally commissioned to make a mural for the castle the same time Theo busts in. He didn't like how Theo ruined some of his works with his rush to open the door

Bert is a cream cheese instead of a cheese slime. his beret is actually a little cherry to distinguish him from the other creams.

Bert is really chill and humble, He's like Bob Ross, whenever he can, he'd try to talk about how every beauty in the world should be immortalized through a canvas

In parallel to Vigi's delusion of thinking he's a human, Bert thinks he's actually a living painting (which is completely possible for someone to be in the PT world since Pepperman was able to do it with his own art)

instead of a :{ face that Vigilante has, Bert has a :3 face

the naming formula is taken directly from Vigi

Vig E. Lantte

Cam M. Bert

There is a type of sweet cheese that's really creamy called camembert which his name is a direct reference from. Here is a picture of a camembert since it's hella cute

Camembert cheese was also suggested by Beefy, brother thank you for not allowing me to name this cunt Creamlad

Mr Lardo would be in place of Mr Stick but his motive is that he's collecting Theo's money on BEHALF of Mr Stick. They're probably the only ones who completely stay intact because there's not much canon info of Stick WITHIN the game itself I also feel he's a crossover character from his own "series" with how long McPig has him prior to PT so I just swap the character who makes the "cameo"

The toppins are still called toppins because they'd be used to decorate a cake or pie. They would be

Strawberry - Mushroom

Cream - Cheese

Cookie - Tomato

Icing (in a piping bag) - Sausage

actually I dont know yet for the pineapple but I'll get to it. I've only been figuring out this au since four days ago....

Lastly (of the characters), the Faker in this would be mechanical to match the original Noise's familiarity in robots

Fake Theo (temp name) would be engineered to be "Theo but way better" while actually being succesful with it. Faker would also sort of look like a mini figure of a ballerina. Referencing The Nutcracker

Opposite to Fake Peppino, Fake Theo is more graceful than terrifying but it's so uncanny how unnaturally pretty it is

and now some misc stuff

Title of the final level is When The Cookie Crumbles

the pepper pizza will be replaced with an extremely sweet pie and the immunity is caused by the sugar rush from it

Pizza Time is called Crunch Time

Pillar John would be a giant graham cracker since the walls are made of cookies instead of bricks. Gerome however, is a solidified bar of brownies. like a shittily made brownie that it just turned into a construction brick

Snotty is a pure white cream cheese and that's cuz he's actually made of glue. His name is Sticky

Pigs would either be bears or rabbits with how many times those two animals represented sweets

I'm gonna be clear with everyone here. I literally made this au cuz I'm going insane trying to make swap stuff with Pascal/Stefano when the au itself is so empty. sure it's colourful but it's so empty like I can't draw SS characters outside of poses

I tried like doing fanon modifications as I always do then there's so much I "modified" that at this point it's not Sugary Spire anymore. Just straight up a completely different au. The only similarity is that it's a swap au with sweets

it is what it is yknow. this is my life now. I said fuck it and went with the flow and boom, new personal au that I poured too much into

basically I blame Pascal for this

#Pizza Tower #tagging them as their og until I solidify the au #Pizzaface #Pizzahead #The Noise #Peppino Spaghetti #Noisette #The Vigilante #Pepperman #Gustavo and Brick #i drew this #Cookie Castle

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neuvistar · 11 months

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HONKAI STAR RAIL MEN AS FATHERS! pt two.

— featuring ┊luka, luocha, welt, sampo koski x fem!reader (all separate)

— warnings / content warnings ┊hsr men as fathers pt 2 !! mostly fluff, not proofread, mentions of pregnancy i think?? i forgot, them being absolute sweethearts, since we don’t know much abt luka yet i might fuck up on his character but it’s okay, DILFS DILFS DILFS! overall just fluff | pt one here. (jing yuan, blade, dan heng, gepard) pt three. (aventurine, dr ratio, argenti, sunday, boothill, gallagher)

— a/n ┊PART TWO OF THE HSR PAPAS!!! luocha n jing yuan prettiest dilfs i’ve ever seen foreal no one can convince me otherwise!

best papa #1 luka

— LUKA seems like one of those fun dads, he’s not generally strict but he wants his kids to be safe at the same time, he’s so fun and your kids love that he loves them sm! i think he’ll have two daughters, he’s another girl dad! his daughters would parallel each other, one is more feminine while the other is more masculine ! like one daughter would be just like him, interested in self defence techniques n all those things while his other daughter would be a little mini princess, feminine and sweet <3 he loves both of them sm

— LUKA who would spend time with his family + daughters any chance he gets, especially his daughters! he’s so chill, he wants them to be free and do what they want to do <3 i bet sometimes his other little daughter would force him to play dress up with her as a kid, “please daddy? pleaseeeeee!” how could he say no to his little princess? he ends up playing tea party and princesses + tiaras w her daily when she was still a cute little toddler, HES THE SWEETEST

— LUKA who loves it when his daughters ask him to teach them a few of his self defence techniques, even as toddlers one of his daughters would always copy his movements and copy what he does, and as she grew she would grow to be a strong independent young girl, HE LOVES TEACHING THEM THINGS HE LOVES DOING! his little daughter’s hair tied up in a long ponytail as she has a determined look on her face, wanting 2 be exactly like daddy! crying emoji

“is this how you do it daddy?”

“mhm mhm! that’s it princess, make sure to bend your elbows, no— yup! like that”

“yayy! daddy i’m just like you!”

“you’re just like daddy, that’s right!” he would pick her up, twirling her around “maybe even better than daddy, mm?”

— LUKA who is supportive of his daughters, oh.. they have a different dream they wanna pursue? he supports them! oh.. they want to do their own thing when they grow up? he supports them! he’s so supportive, even just in general! he wants his daughters to live their lives to the fullest, he wants them to find the beauties in life, they still have so much to explore <3

— LUKA who loves going out with his girls, i feel like during your anniversaries or valentine’s day or sumn like that he would be at the store buying something with both of his daughters holding one hand and he would randomly go “what would your mommy like, girls?” “what do you think fits mommy the most?” THEY LOVE HELPING HIM OUT, your daughters adore you both sm, it’s like luka still has a puppy crush on you despite being married with two kids

“would mommy like this one, girls?”

“i think mommy would like this one more, she said she liked these kinds of flowers once!”

“did she? alright, let’s get them!” he has a huge puppy crush on u (even tho u guys r married) it’s insane

best papa #2 luocha

— LUOCHA would be a loving doting father, i feel like he’d have two boys and one girl (jesus christ) and his two boys would look exactly like him, long blonde hair n same features aaahh ALSO HIS LITTLE PRINCESS WOULD HAVE HER DADDY’S EYES IM CALLIN IT RN! in conclusion his kids would look majestic just like their papa ! when he had his first child he probably shed a tear or two, holding him carefully in his arms :(( he’s a natural dad like jing yuan, it’s like he immediately knew what to do and was a natural at everything! by the time his third child was born he got the hang of taking care of his kids <33

— LUOCHA who’s children got injuries sm as kids n he was always there to aid them <3 during games he would participate in, there would probably be a time where one of them got hurt ATLEAST once, like his son falling over one time n luocha hastily walking over to him and picking him up from the ground + he’s the type to kiss their booboos once he helped disinfect it, putting a bandaid wherever they got injured and kiss it better :(( his children r so lucky to have a father who has good medical skills foreals crying emoji + it’s not only for this, he’s always willing to nurse them back to health!

“does that feel better?”

“m—mhm..” his son nodded, wrapping his small arms around him, sobbing quietly against his neck

“there there, no need to cry my angel. daddy already kissed your boo-boo, you’ll be alright.”

— LUOCHA who would take such good care of his children whenever they were sick, he was a natural at this due to his awesome amazing medical skills! he knew exactly what to do and what to give them, he’s such a caring father it’s insane it’s fun cuz y’all don’t even have 2 go to the doctor to check what’s wrong with your kids, luocha would know what’s going on! a fever? a cold? he knows! and he’s always nursing them back to health like i said !

— LUOCHA who would teach his children about medicine, i feel like all three of his children would have different dreams they wanted to pursue but i feel like his daughter would be interested in medicine just like he is, he found it adorable how she would play with her dolls and pretend to be their doctor, it’s so adorable to see his kids pursuing different dreams and him supporting every single one of them, he’s so chill hearts emoji

— LUOCHA would try his best to be there for his kids. because he’s a merchant, he tries his best not to be absent and wants to be there in their lives :(( he wants to see his kids grow up, y’know??? he loves them sm, and he loves YOUUU <3 i bet he takes his kids out from time to time so he could make new memories with them they could carry with them for the rest of their lives, he knows life is short, yes. that’s why he’s trying to live his life to the fullest with his family, he knows one day he won’t always be there to scoop them back up from the ground to aid their injuries :((

best papa #3 welt

— WELT would be a great father, he’s a lil strict on some ends but he’s not SEVERELY strict, i think he’ll have two sons (maybe a daughter too who knows) he made a promise to himself he’ll protect his two kids until the end of time :(( his sons would have their daddy’s eyes, and some features of him too! but they mostly look like their mommy sososweet

“look, they have daddy’s eyes.”

“do they?”

“mhmmm.. look at him, he looks just like you”

(his heart is slowly starting to melt as u speak)

— WELT who would give one of the best hugs, i feel like he’s that type of dad who’s serious like half of the time but whenever he’s with his family or spending time with his sons, he’s always willing 2 show a smile or two, but back onto it! he gives the best hugs, his favourite thing to do is hug his sons and kiss the temple of their foreheads before he goes out, he may be serious and a lil strict.. but he loves his sons just as much as he loves anything else, behind that strictness he rlly does love a good hug from his sons

— WELT who would bring his wife and kids along to the astral express, it’s so cute bc imagine seeing two pudgy wudgy little babies crawling around, i bet himeko would unofficially be their godmother too LMFAO <33 when they grow into toddlers, his sons would love bothering him at work, climbing on his leg and climbing on his desk, he doesn’t mind it it’s acc so surprising how he manages to keep a straight face! and when he wants to calm them down, he just sets both of them on his lap

“settle down. let papa finish this, okay?” he would pick them up, his sons giggling as they help him work along the way (😭😭😭)

— WELT who works at the astral express a lot so he doesn’t see his kids much :(( but he always comes home to you and them with gifts and souvenirs from other worlds! his kids would always run to him and hug his leg, welt scooping them up with a smile on his face ;; AAAA SO SO SO CUTE!

“papa! papa papaaaa!”

“did you miss me?” the two boys ran to their dad, hugging his leg as welt picked them up from the floor squeezing them into a hug “i got a few things for you both.”

“what is it what is it?!”

“i want to see, papa!”

“alright alright, settle down now. it’s a surprise, you’ll have to behave and guess first.”

— WELT who would give his sons advice on how to be better people, his advice is always so firm and straightforward.. he wants them to be gentlemen, he wants them to be the best they can be! he would teach them exactly how 2 be gentlemen, he would raise his sons to be one of the most respectful and kindest ppl ever <33 when they mature and shape into those kind of ppl one day, sometimes he looks back to when he was still able to carry them around like it was nothing :(( he knows his children r growing up and deep down inside he doesn’t want them to, he truly does love and cherish his sons, he’s so glad he was able to shape his sons into good ppl just like he wanted <33

best papa #4 sampo

— SAMPO is one of the most fun and uplifting dads out of everyone, i’m calling it rn he’s a girl dad n has a daughter, i’m calling that rn! he’s such a fun dad to have, like having him as a dad means everyday is never boring, he always makes everything fun! (u cant tell me that he doesn’t love making dad jokes during dinner in the dinner table, he absolutely loves making them it’s so funny)

— SAMPO who would let his daughter do anything with him, oh she wants to play dress up? he’s putting on a dress that can barely fit him rn! she wants to have tea with her plushies? he’s already setting up the tables, she wants to put makeup on his face and nail polish on his nails? he’ll let her! he’s such a fun girl dad, always willing 2 do what his daughter wants to do :((

“stay still, daddy! i’ll mess up if you keep moving around!” his daughter would pout, holding her mommy’s makeup in her tiny little hands

“sorry princess, the brush is ticklish. gotta’ be more gentle with me, yeah? you’re grabbin’ and brushin’ at my face too roughly” he chuckled, patting her back

“sorry daddy, i just want to make you look pretty! now, still please!” she’s so sassy just like he is, but he loves her sm!

— SAMPO would be such a dumbass. first things first, he has this issue with losing his daughter from time to time at amusement parks or places in general, always finding her crying alone and having to scoop her up in his arms apologizing and showering her with kissies + second he can’t even help her with her homework from school because he “doesn’t remember doing this” he would be complaining more than her! skull emoji it would always be HER teaching him instead of HIM teaching her LMFAOO

“why’re there s’many numbers here, angel?! this is what you learn everyday?”

“do you seriously not know how to do this?” you raised a brow.

“ you can’t blame me! i ain’t ever got good grades, can’t even remember how to calculate nine times ten!”

“you’re lying.”

“.. yeah i am. but there’s so much numbers, babe! look! this is what our princess has to deal with!”

— SAMPO who would show off his daughter to everyone, bragging about her accomplishments and bragging about how lucky he is to be her father, he’s so stupid it’s hilarious he absolutely loves his little princess sm !! he never shuts up abt how much he loves her and how proud he is w how far she’s come in life, he’s just thankful to have a family that’s all :(( he’s such a sweetheart he’s always so proud and supportive hashtag girl dad

— SAMPO who probably has social media accounts dedicated to his whole family, his wife and his little angel <33 he would absolutely love posting pictures of his family all together + his family in general, his phone would be filled with videos of his daughter from loooong ago, showing her the video and teasing her about it! he almost never deletes pictures of his daughter and you from his phone, he cherishes his family sm n it absolutely shows, always vlogging from time to time n documenting his life w you and his princess <33 HES SO ADORABLE IT HURTS MY HEART ALMOST

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persephone11110 · 3 months

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A Web Of Lies | J. Seresin

warnings: past physical abuse, past domestic violence-> old traditional views of how women are supposed to be,victim blaming—self victim blaming, hurt/comfort, protective jake seresin, mentions of throwing up and being on your period, oc death-> mentions of alcohol abuse and car accident

summary:“Y/n sometimes it best if women are seen and not heard,sometimes its best if you just take the hits and don’t react”. Mama tells you while holding an icepack to her swollen eye.

AN: do i need therapy or do i need keep writing oc’s with childhood trauma?

ocs: Betty L/n, Harry L/n, Darren

—

THIS STORY IS ABOUT DOMESTIC VIOLENCE AND GENERATIONAL TRAUMA AND MISOGYNISTIC SOCIETIAL VIEWS SO PLEASE BE CAREFUL

—

Women are seen not heard.

It’s a phrase you learned as a little girl, it’s an assumption youv’e lived by for awhile, taking it in consideration when saw your dad first hit your mom, when Darren first slapped you. Its always the women fault— it can never be the man fault.

You didn’t learn this lesson until your eight years old, when your father facade cripples quickly. Before this happened he was sweet to you, always calling you his princess, having tea parties with you—throwing you over his shoulder.

His laughter was loud and clear , just like yours until it isn’t. Your dad is everything a man is supposed to be until he isn’t. The loudness that once meant happiness turns into—loud agressive shouting, when it’s him and mama alone together.

Well they think their alone together. Your wandering down the staircase to see were he went as he promised to read you the cinderella story again—like he did most nights, reading to you until your snores filled the room.

They’re fighting again which isn’t surprising to say the least. Your parents always argued whether it was in hushed tones or it was so loud that your neighbors next door would come over and make sure everything was fine.

“Betty it wouldn’t be like this if you just made me happy!”,his voice booms, bouncing off the walls. He doesn’t look like he usually does, his hair was messy opposed to the gel back look he normally wore, his clothes has stains on it- something that was unheard of until tonight.

You swear mama not breathing after you watched daddy ball his fist up, striking her across the face. The cracking sound echoes throughout the living room, mama on the ground holding the right side of her face.

You go to open your mouth, worried for your mama. But before you can your nanny Louisa gently wraps her hand around your mouth. “Shh little one, lets get to bed–theres school remember”. Louisa picks you up and you lean your head on her shoulder, leaving your mama bleeding on the cold floor alone.

It makes mama stop arguing with daddy, his combat boots were heavy aganist the floor as he leaves through the front door— using all his strength to slame it.

In the morning you notice how quiet mama is, how red and swollen her face is. “Louisa taking you to school today Y/n” her voice is small and soft.

“Mama why did daddy hit you?”. She almost drops the kettle onto the ground, mama didn’t know you were there watching the vicious scene unfold.

Thats the day your mama infamous words get stuck in your head,“Sometimes mama makes daddy mad, sometimes women must be seen and not heard”.

It words that stay with Y/n for over an decade.

—

Circa of 2002

Your in your junior year of college when the lesson your mom taught you is sitting in the back of your mind.

Just take the hit Y/n, it makes life easier.

Your relationship with Darren is so fresh, yet your already mimicking how your mom acts around your dad. Your already walking on eggshells with him, he already rolls his eyes when you forget to give him the answers to the psychologyhomework—it meant your walking on thin line of his frustration.

Sometimes you think you deserve the bruises that riddle your body, how many times have you forgotten to call him back, when he tells you to. Sometimes he’s annoyed with how much you move in your sleep, “I can’t sleep Y/n if you move so much”.

Your relationship with Darren was the true epitome of Opposite Attracts. Like today you got excited telling Darren about the release of the book Coraline. You remembered him reminding you to calm down, him telling you didn’t care about his day.

Or when your on your period and he insists that your fine, and how you had the tendency to overreact when it came to your pain. How he’s sighs when your own the ground cleaning up your throw up as the cramps had gotten worse. Telling you its 2AM in the morning and he’s desperately trying to sleep, and now he can’t.

The guilt eats away at you for days, now when you get your period you slept on the bathroom floor.

You don’t have friends anymore, as Darren had grown controlling of your social life. “Am I not enough for you, Y/n?”. Your friends grow tired of seeing you so bruised, they grow tired of trying to help someone who didn’t want the help. Its just you and Darren now–at least he didn’t grow tired of you.

It took ten years for you to leave, your about two years into your nursing job. Your a hypocrite, as you stood infront of a woman in a coma, her husband had beaten to her within an inch of her life and the only chance she had at living was a medical induced coma.

Here you were holding her hand telling her it wasn’t her fault. “Sometimes we believe we don’t deserve better and we believe there is no one out there who will ‘love’ us”. You sighed, lifting one hand to wipe away your tears.

You left him-leaving the state and finding a job all the way in Miramar, California—changing your cell number and email. A phone call from your mother makes you almost burst out laughing,“Y/n I’m so sorry for your loss sweetheart he was such a nice boy”. Darren drinking habit has gotten worse, he managed to flip his car over on its side. You didn’t feel like telling her about the break up - there was no use anway, as she’ll tell you to beg for his love again, like all the other times.

Present

You sitting across from Jake, staring at him waiting for him to tell you how much you suck at cooking. Waiting for him to pick up the dish and chuck it over your head—listening to him pop open another beer, the plate and flood sliding down the wall.

It doesnt come, its never going to.

Jake gives you a soft smile, and he reaches for your hand to hold it, as he eats.“God damn darlin, you put your entire foot in it”.

“Thank you Jake”, You push your chair back, moving to collect his dish. He softly grips your hand, stopping you from moving.

“Darlin I have legs—finish your food first”. He drops a kiss onto your head before walking to the kitchen. His southern drawl thicker than usual.

Darren did always say you were stubborn. You were standing infront of the sink washing all the dishes that had been used for dinner. Despite Jake telling you didn’t have to.

“Y/n is cleaning so hard for you?”.

“Is it so hard for my girlfriend to clean up after herself?”, your holding a cold beer to your swollen face.

“Darlin, no”. Jake wraps his arms around you not caring about your wet clothes. “Let me do it Y/n”. He gently pushes you into the kitchen chair.

Jake doing the dishes right now.

Something your dad wouldn’t dare do for your mom,“Betty I’m tired the least my wife can do is clean up for me”. Darren wouldn’t neither—“Goodnight Y/n, or I’m watching the game”, leaving you in the dark kitchen alone.

Jake Seresin isn’t them, Jake isn’t the man you’ve spent majority of your life scared of. It’s takes time for you believe that, it takes time for you to believe his words,“I will never lay a hand on you Y/n”.

It took some time but staring at him washing the dishes singing along with Beyoncé you start to believe him. You know for certain that Jacob Grant Seresin is not like them—he can’t be.

#top gun #top gun maverick #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader

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bethanydelleman · 6 months

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Writing Villains (Advice from Jane Austen)

One of the reasons that I find Jane Austen's novels so wonderful is that they have amazingly realistic villains, some that are fully fleshed out characters. Austen's biggest strength is that she gives her villains clear, logical motives. In fact, for many of her villainous characters you can turn the entire story around and see a rational story from the other side.

For example, Lucy Steele. She doesn't attack Elinor out of mindless evil, but because Edward Ferrars is her golden ticket to wealth and she knows that Edward loves Elinor. Lucy might twist the knife a little on Elinor out of sadism, but generally she attacks Elinor in an attempt to secure Edward. When it comes to other characters, Lucy is overly sweet if she wants something from them, otherwise she acts normally. As an example, she leaves Marianne alone because Marianne is not competing for Edward and also can't do anything for Lucy. Anne, Lucy's sister, likes her. Lucy has friends and family she stays with, she's a fairly well-rounded person.

You can put yourself in Lucy's shoes, you can turn the entire narrative on it's head and play it out from her perspective and it would make complete sense. You could even make Lucy sympathetic! She probably sees herself as a hardworking underdog, trying to wrest her one chance at prosperity away from the conniving Elinor Dashwood. I'm sure she thinks the pain she causes Elinor is justified.

If you can't do that with your villains, then there is a good chance they are just evil for evil's sake. I picked Lucy Steele on purpose because I hate when the entire motivation for a antagonist female character is "bitches be crazy". Bitches may be mean, but almost always for a good reason.

Even Mrs. Norris, who is probably the most cruel of Austen's female villains, can be perspective switched. Her life is about being useful to the Bertram family so she can feel important because her married status/wealth is lower than she wished. As she must always be deferential towards the Bertrams, she takes out her negative emotions on those below her, the servants and Fanny, while also showing off how good she is at "managing" those people. (And yes, she is your childhood bully)

We often hear her perspective and she clearly sees herself as a useful part of the family and a defender of Sir Thomas's wealth. She thinks she's a good person! Which is also an important point: most people doing wrong do not believe that they are doing wrong. That is what really makes a villain scary. Mrs. Norris thinks she's helping Fanny in a very twisted way by teaching Fanny her station in life. If you asked her, she'd give you a self-justified answer and she'd probably actually believe it.

Another way to do a good villain is to just make a person very selfish. Henry Crawford doesn't sit around all day laughing about how much pain he causes women, he doesn't think about it. He only thinks about the fun of flirting for himself, not the harm to others. The glimpses we get into her perspective are not cruel at all. It's the same with Willougby, he thinks only of his own pleasure and tries very hard to ignore that he has crushed Marianne and destroyed Eliza Williams. When he is forced to accept that people were hurt, he blames everyone but himself.

Wickham thinks that he's a victim, Caroline Bingley is ambitious and doesn't care who she steps on to get to the top, Mr. Elton is insulted that Emma could even dream he's a match with Harriet but he can't touch Emma so he punches down at Harriet. They all make sense, they all probably believe that their actions are justified.

Also, imagine taking the heroine/hero right out of the story, would the villain still act the same way? If Anne didn't exist, Mr. Elliot would still try to bring himself into the Elliot family because he was afraid of losing the title. If Elizabeth didn't exist, Wickham would have had another favourite in Meryton. If Fanny didn't exist, Mrs. Norris would have found some other puppy to kick. The villains don't just appear for the plot of the main characters, they have their own reasons for moving around and messing shit up.

Lastly, explaining but not excusing (though unfortunately some people will excuse anyway but that's not your fault). Mary Crawford is mercenary and doesn't seem to believe that love is even a real thing. It's pointed out several times in the novel that her defects have to do with being raised in an immoral environment and a broken home. She was taught by her aunt to marry for wealth and disregard love. Austen doesn't excuse Mary, she doesn't give her a happy ending, but she does explain how she came to be. She's not just greedy, she has been taught that wealth is the best recipe for happiness. As an adult now, it is her responsibility to question that maxim or remain a villain.

Austen wrote amazing morally grey characters and "villains" (a term I used a little liberally here, some of them probably only count as antagonists, not full blown villains). I love how real and human she made her characters, it's something I aspire to myself!

Linking my Caroline rant because it's related, people remove her motives so often and flatten her into a "bitches be crazy".

#jane austen #villains #avoiding “bitches be crazy”#Lucy steele #mrs. norris #mansfield park #sense and sensibility #henry crawford #mary crawford

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randomfanner · 6 months

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Gale + Tara Headcanons

I love Gale so much. SFW Headcanons only, relationship and also just general life headcanons I have about the worlds saddest oxymoron.

Labeled TW: Gale got groomed. We are going to be discussing today Because even if he was an adult(which he probably wasn't) he still got groomed because Mystra had so much power over this man.

General TW: Gale has self hatred issues. I hate Mystra. We will be talking about Mystra in depth I promise. Also Gifted kid burn out and general tying all of your self worth to a talent.

So, body type head canon because Gale does not have abs. You cannot look me in the eyes and tell me Gale has abs. He is soft and a little squishy and very huggable.

Man is a cuddler. He always wants to cuddle. Whether it be you two be lounging on a sofa, each reading/doing your own tasks well you snuggle together, spooning in the morning, laying together after a night of passion, or whatever reason he can get to just hold you in his arms.

I think he is touch starved other than Tara. Which as great as Tara is it is not human touch. And gods don't... really physically touch. So I don't think he got very much physical affection from Mystra. So being touched, being held with your hands and feeling your flesh on his means so much to him.

He doesn't think he is good at it. But he still really likes to do it. If you ask him to cuddle with him, he will flip in his heart because it makes him the happiest man in the world to know you want to cuddle with him as much as he wants to cuddle with you.

Tara likes you. She likes you fast. She begins telling you all of Gale's stories from when he was younger, how sweet of a boy he was and how he would use his beginning magic to help people. If you give her attention she will purr so loud. Gale and Tara both really like chin scratches.

She begins calling you "Mrs/Mr/Mrx. Dekarios" pretty damn quickly. she has accepted you as his partner which she never did Mystra. it really throws Gale off when she does it. He admittedly thought Tara was so against Mystra because she was a lover period.

Tara also may begin to favor your lap. If this happens, Gale is... shocked and disappointed "You have stolen not only my heart, love, but my Treyssem as well." "Would you like to repeat that, Mr. Dekarios?"

And he wonders why she favors your lap.

She also favors you lap because she has to thank you for keeping her sweet boy alive for her. She may even allow you the honor to stroke her stomach a few times.

She also brings you gifts, magic items, trinkets, carcasses, whatever she can get her paws on and thinks you would like.

She takes you in fast and begins asking for grand babies. She wants grand babies and Gale's mother wants grand babies. The topic of course make your flustered each time and Gale denies the possibility of being a good father, but Tara is pretty insistent.

Morena also loves you as well and you best believe she is showing you pictures from Gale's childhood and telling you as much information as she can. Poor Gale just sits there and is extremely flustered well she recounts even his less flattering tales... but he does nothing to stop it.

He is really happy his mom and Tara both like you. It makes him the happiest man in the world.

Gale likes to cook for you. A lot. He cooks the fanciest, gourmet food and he is extremely good at it. He will set up fancy candle lit dinners with music in the background. This is basically every night but he tries to make sure it never truly loses its luster. (It never does).

He also makes you breakfast in bed. He has to crawl away from you in the morning to feed Tara and so he just makes you breakfast and comes back freshly deserved.

If you cook together man is smiling so much his jaw hurts. I cannot describe to you the joy he feels having you by his side, helping him cook.

Expect so much love poetry all of the time. Even when you are questing or not he will just slip a small piece of paper into your hand with all of his affections written down as poems.

He also quotes poetry verses that make him think of you, to you, at random times. He is hoping to make you smile with all of them.

Gale is so sweet to you all of the time. He treats you like you are divine, and to him you are. Complete gentleman all of the time. He does not carry anything. You could be a fighter with a 20 in strength with thighs and arms that could crush his fucking head like a grape, He will still insist on trying to carry anything heavy for you. He holds doors, pulls out chairs, makes sure your wine is refilled. He is so doting.

Man feels guilty that he is doing so little to help you at times. He wants to do more for you then he does. He tries to make sure you are pampered at all times. Kisses, gifts, fancy shows, lovely nights together.

But he tries to do more. he always makes sure to protect you in battle. He will take attacks, using shield and mage armor to make sure he can take as many hits as needed to protect you. He will be your knight in magic armor, a dashing smile well he does so.

This often leads to the ES(Emergency Shadowheart) because Gale is an over-confident wizard but if you are safe he doesn't care. If you are meant to be a tank, you may need to have a chat with him about the fact he is the squishy wizard man and you can protect him.

But it is Gale.

If you get sick or injured or anything Gale is fretting over you. He is holding you and yelling for Shadowheart like you are going to die at this moment. Even if it is a small thing he is very dramatic and very scared of losing you.

When you get sick or are on your period he makes sure to give you medicine to help with illness and pains, magic hiding the taste, and so much good food.

Tara also rests on your lap and acts like a heating pad. Purring and trying to help you feel better.

So like, after the ending I think Gale and you take a break from everything and just, go and look around. And Gale takes a break from magic. He can still love the art, and he will go back to it but I just think he needs to take a step back because magic and his talent for magic has kind of defined Gale his entire life.

I think him taking a break and just... being a person rather than a wizard for a little a while. He can be both, he knows he can. But he will need time and a deep breathe. He will go back, he loves to do magic. It means the world to him. But absences makes the heart grow fonder. And I think working on other skills he can be proud of and knowing Magic is one of the many things he is good at rather then the ONLY thing he is good at will do him wonders.

So I am going be talking about Gale's trauma a lot in the lower half of this. First, Gale's confidence issues and how fucked up the orb is. There will be comfort with Tara and you. After that we are going to get into the problem. The problem will come up in this section, however not the fact Gale got Groomed. That will be another different section.

Warning out of the way:

I think his self confidence and self image is being held together by the type of "I am good at magic". He was a prodigy and I think Gale only saw worth in his magic and his skill on it. He loves to do it too but at the same time he HAS to be good at it, or it feels like. He respects people who are better.

He did fuck up with the orb, but I also think he wasn't fully aware of what he was getting himself. Yes he should have known not listening to Mystra was a bad idea, but she didn't explain exactly what he did wrong until Gale talks with her in the game. This is years later.

Gale really needed Tara after he went from Mystra's Chosen and the Lover of Mystra to a fool who flew too close to the sun and came crashing down in a brilliant display of horrible glory. Man ruined his life, lost everything, and had a problem that Mystra gave him no ideas how to fix.

Mystra DID NOT EXPLAIN ANYTHING TO GALE UNTIL THAT CUTSCENE IN GAME YOU GET AFTER MYSTRA TELLS GALE TO BLOW HIMSELF UP. Gale was kept alive due to Tara. Tara was the one who flew off and found out how to help Gale.

I also think the only thing Mystra valued with Gale's magic knowledge and abilities. She is a goddess, she doesn't really eat human food, Tara and Mystra didn't each other, she is a goddess and I doubt physical touch was common.

So I think Gale being rude to you about magic, especially if you are a different class who can do magic and he insulted you, is because the is grasping with issues of trying to remind himself he is a good mage. This does not excuse his behavior. But I think when he realizes what he did he is going to apologize whole heartedly

One day he is just thinking about how you first met and he just realizes 'I was awful!"

He is going to hold your hand to his cheek, and apologize for doing that. Because you make him realize that he is more than his magic. He is more then what he has been called talented for and tied everything too for so long.

He isn't a failure if he fails with his magic.

Don't get me wrong, Gale can get ahead of himself and is pushy. I want to flick him in the head as soon as he begins thinking trying to become a god is a good idea in the first place. It is a horrible idea as much as I hate Mystra, don't want Gale to become a god. He deserves to be a good man with his wine, his library, his treyssem, and, should fates permit, you.

So, we are going to start talking about Mystra being a P*dophile and just the worst emotional manipulator. When we get to talking about it I am not censoring the word.

This is the end, I am not putting anything else below this. You are free to move along your day, you will not miss out on any of the good stuff. I promise.

This is the only notable part of this: I want Withers to be the god of Magic. He would be a great god of magic, he proves with Arabella.

So, Gale was like, 17 to 23 I believe the range is. And even if Gale is in the later half of that, he still got fucking groomed by Mystra because Mystra had and still has so much power over Gale.

She is the goddess of his greatest asset. His magic. And as we just discussed, the goddess of the thing he ties all of his self worth to. Mystra was literally someone he worshipped. She IS the goddess of magic. Gale had no power in the relationship and never did.

Mystra knows this. She is smart enough to know what is doing is fucking horrible, and get it, she is a god, but she is also a straight up pedophile. We all know about the fact people LITERALLY HIDE THEIR CHILDREN FROM HER.

I do not doubt that being Mystra's chosen meant doing everything she asked. I don't think Mystra took no for an answer in any matters. I also think mistakes were punished with emotional manipulation. Not violence like we see with Shar or Vaalikith (She sorta counts) but gods did he make Gale feel worthless if he failed.

I think Gale feels guilty for a lot of things a lot he shouldn't feel guilt for. I think one of the biggest things Mystra would make Gale feel guilty for was talking to basically any one else if it was not a work relationship.

I would not doubt if Mystra cut Gale off from his mother and would have from Tara if Tara was anyone else. Mystra is noted as a jealous goddess if you are dating Gale. I do not doubt that jealousy was a pretty frequent thing.

Tara hates Mystra with every bone in his fluffy body and tried so hard to talk to Gale but Gale would not listen to her because, well- she is his boss, his teacher, his lover and also the person who controls the thing he ties his self worth too of course he is going to listen to everything Mystra said.

Also Mystra 100% cut Gale off from any source of help he could actually get. Again, Tara was the one to find out about the orb. And I think more than just shame, embarrassment and being a laughing stock from one of the greats, I think Mystra made sure no one was going to be talking to Gale.

I want DLC where we beat the fuck out of Mystra. I really want to kill her. I know I cannot but she is terrible and she deserves death. I know I am captain obvious right now but I cannot stress this enough.

I want Withers to be the god of Magic. He would be a great god of magic, he proves with Arabella.

#gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #baldurs gate gale #gale x tav #bg3 gale #gale fluff #Gale needs a hug #fuck mystra #I hate Mystra so much #Tara is my favorite momma cat #gale x reader #Gale is baby #Withers should be the god of magic #tw: mystra

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espinosaurusrexex · 1 year

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Congrats on 1k followers, you deserve it! I love your writing so much, I’d love to see you write a Bucky x Reader Mind Reader fic where enhanced!reader can read minds and knows that Bucky is pining after her.

THANK YOU! Part of that is because you keep supporting my work, and I love you so much for it 🥰💕💗 - seriously go check out M's page for some great fic recommendations!

Mind Reader (Bingo Game)

!BINGO ASKS CLOSED!

BuckyBarnes x Enhanced!Female!Reader

word count: 2.1k

warnings: pining, fluff, Bucky being very sweet but also self-sabotaging, language

It started off like a whisper. You weren’t used to whispers. Normally, people talked to themselves in moderate volumes. Who would be afraid of their own thoughts after all? But Bucky was different. He was so different, in fact, that you had mistaken his thoughts for something entirely else.

You should go over to them, be part of the group. I can’t.

They were like conversations. But not like thoughts usually were. More like a constant...

No wonder nobody likes you. You’re a coward.

...fight.

Shut up.

You looked up at Bucky who was shaking his head with a frown over at the other end of the room. Wanda and Sam were standing by the window talking, laughing. Bucky was never part of it and it saddened you a little. Especially because he was actually very sweet. He just never showed it. But that’s why you liked to occasionally listen to his thoughts.

That was very well said, Steve. Good job.

It made you smile. And even though you had promised the team not to do it, sometimes, you couldn’t help yourself. He was just...

I like that braid Natasha did today, maybe she can braid my hair like that too.

...so...

This is the best food I’ve ever tasted. Wow, Sam.

..cute.

And that’s why you did it occasionally.

You got up from your seat at the kitchen island and walked over to the sink. Bucky stepped aside to give you space. He was still a little timid around everyone. You talked to him frequently though, trying to include him in activities and general conversation to make sure he didn’t feel left out. And he appreciated it.

“Thank you,” you whispered before passing him to leave the room.

Oh, wow. She smells very good. Don’t be a creep.

You bit back a smile before leaving, your heart skipping a small beat before settling in its pace again. Bucky was so endearing with his little compliments. But he would never dare say them out loud - not with that condescending voice he harbored as well.

You wanted to do something about it, but you also knew it would reveal your little secret of occasional drop-ins to his mind. And you were sure this was a boundary you couldn’t cross with Bucky yet. Steve? Sure, what was he going to do about it? Sam would probably close his ears to prevent you from listening to his thoughts - he didn’t think a lot of times... Nat would probably not mind at all, but Bucky? No, you didn’t know what it would do to him.

So you restrained. But it became harder and harder with time as Bucky’s thoughts turned in a direction neither of you had expected.

She looks so pretty today.

He was subtle at first, surprised by his own mind but somehow content. Over time, you looked at him afterward, he smiled, a small blush creeping over his cheeks to his ears. It was adorable.

He noticed things nobody else did. He had attention to detail, and he was so interested in the smallest of things you did.

Did she put on eyeshadow? Her eyes are shining. Not for you.

But it was always there, at the end of each compliment - ready to destroy the little warmth he spread in your heart - that voice. That annoying, down-talking, and toxic voice his mind hosted and that was nothing like the Bucky he revealed to the outside.

I wish I could hold her hand. She will run away from you.

Your heart clenched with every day his mind ruined the few soft moments Bucky allowed himself. You wanted to just grab him, squish him tight and tell that stupid voice to shut up. Because you did want to hold his hand during movie nights, or that day he noticed your new nail polish, or the time your fingers brushed against his when he handed you a mug. And it was killing you, tearing you apart from the constant tug of war his mind was playing.

You wanted to hear the compliments he thought of but at the same time, the flip side of his thoughts became more painful every time. Still, you challenged him, walked past him closer, looked at him longer, talked to him more - just to feel the goosebumps building when his kind words reached your mind. Unfortunately... just for them to be destroyed right after.

Her lips look so soft. I bet she’s a good kisser. Fucking creep.

So, you eventually got so used to listening, it became more and more difficult to distinguish thought from spoken words with time. You couldn’t stop, though, it was too thrilling - too nice to be appreciated.

You found yourself lingering in spaces Bucky was more often. Not necessarily talking, just being in the same place, stealing glances, listening to his mind - finding calm in the soothing tone of his silent monologues... however condescending they ended up being.

Right now, you were doing exactly that: Sitting in the common room, reading a magazine while Bucky sat across from you, mindlessly opening and closing his book, but you knew he wasn’t reading...

Imagine what it would be like to just be able to go over and sit next to her.

You smiled, biting your cheeks immediately.

Calling her my girl... Jesus, I don’t think I know how dating works anymore.

You stole a glance at him, but Bucky was looking down quickly, tracing the cover of his book with his index finger.

You will never find love again... that’s ok, it’s too overwhelming anyway.

This time, you had to will yourself to keep your eyes on the page. They hadn’t moved over a single word for the entire time. You shook your head, took a deep breath, and tried to actually read. Bucky’s mind was silent for some time, and as much as you liked hearing him, it was nice to not experience his sad thoughts.

After a while, you began to actually read. The article was actually somewhat entertaining, you should have done it sooner. Your eyes flew over the page, eating up the meaning behind the latest internet trend, your fingers flipping to the next page.

That outfit looks so good on her. That’s her color. I wish I had a color.

“It’s cerulean,” you laughed absentmindedly, your eyes nearing the end of the page.

“What?” Oh my god.

Oh shit. Your head shot up immediately, sight panic surging up your spine. “The answer for my crossword.” Close call.

You’d think that after this accident, you had gotten more careful, maybe stopped reading his mind so much. But something always drew you towards him. When Bucky was in the room, even Peter's weird and random rabbit hole thoughts seemed to move in the background.

You craved Bucky’s thoughts - they excited you, made you feel like no one else’s compliments ever did - so you didn't stop. But today, you actually wished you had...

Bucky’s mind was particularly gruesome today. He and Steve had just come back from a rather frustrating mission. Many pedestrians were injured, no targets contained - and it made the bad voice in his head take over.

You’re such a failure, Steve risked his life to save you and for what? For you to fuck it all up again.

The common room was empty when you heard it. You were the only one in the adjacent kitchen, Bucky’s thoughts preceding his entrance by a few seconds. When he entered, he stopped in his tracks, looked at you, and let a small “Hi.” Slip past his lips.

“Hey,” you responded sadly. There was no compliment today. His mind went back to his prior train of thought immediately.

“How are you?” You carefully asked to loosen the awkwardness, but Bucky just turned to the fridge with a gruff mumble.

“Fine.”

It would have probably been better for everyone if Hydra just had had its ways with me. Had me die of all the torture eventually. Then all of this would have never happened.

Tears sprung to your eyes at his thoughts. But it was even worse, you couldn’t help him - he had never really told you and it was eating you alive.

Everyone is just better off without me...

And then a slight sniffle escaped you, the tears running freely as you imagined Bucky not being part of your life. It was so sad that he couldn’t see how important he was to all of you. You especially. He had made your life at the compound so much brighter, was a thing you always looked forward to as a part of your day.

"Are you okay?” Bucky turned immediately, his eyes going wide when he saw your distraught face. You fucking idiot, of course she’s not okay. It’s probably your fault, too.

“Stop!”

“Stop what?” He moved closer. “Stop what?”

“The arguing, the- the constant downplay.” You wiped your tears but there was no use, fresh ones were already replacing them.

“Doll, I don’t know what you-”

You shook his frame, your hands wrapping around his biceps. “I need you! Nobody would be happier if you were dead!”

It was dead silent for a moment. You could watch as the confusion shook from Bucky’s face with every jolt you were giving him. But you didn’t care. It was enough - he was enough.

When your hands finally let go, Bucky cleared his throat, his eyes, however, never left yours.

"So you do read my thoughts.”

“I-“ but your mouth was faster than your mind. You didn't know what to tell him. You had promised the team to never do it. You knew it was a breach of privacy, a breaking of trust. Your head hung low as you avoided Bucky’s eyes. They weren’t furious, or confused - really, nothing you had imagined them to be if he ever found out. He was kind of... calm. As if something had been lifted off his shoulders - it must have been the closure you provided him with.

You dared to glance up again just to be met with that confusing look of his again, and the fact he wasn’t saying a thing made you panic. “I’m sorry, I was too curious. Because every time I...” You sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat. There was no use in defending your actions. “I’m sorry. I promised not to read your minds and I did it anyways. That’s not okay.”

But Bucky didn’t seem to listen to the words tumbling over your tongue in desperation. His brows were scrunched when his eyes flicked to the ceiling and then back to you. What the hell was this about?

“If you heard that... did you also hear my... you know...” Oh. Right. The compliments. How could you have forgotten? They were the very reason you were in this situation right now.

You breathed in deeply. “Yeah.” And it felt a lot better now that it had all been said.

“Oh.” Bucky’s cheeks tainted in pink when he turned in place awkwardly. But even though the kitchen was massive, there was no real hiding from you.

You watched as he shuffled in front of you, shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and looked anywhere but at you. And it reminded you of the Bucky only you got to experience in secret. The one whose thoughts never left that brain of his and it warmed you from the inside out again.

“Thank you,” you finally whispered, careful not to chase him away. Because it looked like he was about to bolt, though something was keeping him from doing so.

“For what?” Big blue orbs found yours again, intrigue and confusion weaving through his features - it was adorable.

You bit your lip. “All the compliments. You’re very charming, you know?” Part of you wondered if the old Bucky - 40s Bucky - was just like this. Innocently sweet, maybe with a hint of shameless flirting though. “You are such a great person, Bucky. If the others could hear how incredibly attentive you are. They would love to have you around more.”

Your hand reached out to touch his arm and the blush on his cheeks deepened.

“I’ll try,” he smiled, the tension from before seemingly forgotten in the vast kitchen.

You smiled as well, riding on a wave of confidence when you leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to his heated cheek.

Sweet Jesus, I think I’ll pass out.

You just chuckled and left. The other conversation hanging in the room had to wait for now. First, you wanted to see Bucky mingle with the crowd, get comfortable, then, you’d work on finally making him yours.

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scp230kinnie · 1 year

Note

Hcs for the titans mcs pls (Dick, Gar, Rachel, & Kori)

Lowkey gonna marry whoever sent this 😜

TITANS RELATIONSHIP HEADCANONS

I assume you meant relationship, so here’s that

Characters: Dick Grayson, Rachel Roth, Gar Logan, Jason Todd, and Koriand’r

Genre: fluff 😜 relationship hcs

Warnings: SPOILERS ⚠️ mentions of death & injury. Slightly suggestive. None of the characters mentioned are mine, all Headcanons are made up by me, not canon whatsoever. Everything said/mentioned is fictional.

On with the fic

Dick Grayson

He a baddie

He tries actually so hard to keep you out of danger

I feel like he would try to hide the whole titans thing from you if you didn’t know about it, but realistically finding out would be inevitable

He can always tell when you’re lying. It’s like a sixth sense to him

As a matter of fact, he can tell when anyone lies to him

He probably likes it when you help patch him up after a fight (not that he would admit it)

If you’re expecting a man who’s open about anything (his past, etc) you have another thing coming

It would take a lot for him to actually open up

Even if he does open up, he doesn’t like telling you much about his time with Bruce.

Dont bring it up either lol

Man is so touch deprived omggg

It’s not exactly that he never got it, it’s more that he never wanted it

He would like flinch if you ever touched him, but he would get used to it

He has a fat ass I wanna slap it

If you do that, he’s probably gonna slap yours back

No PDA. Holding hands at the MOST. Unless you’re upset or hurt, then he’ll give you a quick hug or something

He likes to stay serious generally, but sometimes he’ll be silly and it’s so cute ong

He wants you to stay away from the crime fighting scene.

He even gets scared for your health in case one of his enemies decides to go for you

He would try to teach you some self defence

If you are a crime fighter, he helps you train, and stays close to you on missions if he can

His favourite part of your body is your face. He loves looking into your eyes or kissing your lips or cheeks

Next 😜

Rachel Roth

She’s probably so sweet and understanding

You are always her main priority

All she ever wants is to keep you safe

Sometimes, she gets very distant because she can’t control her abilities and she doesn’t want to accidentally hurt you

If you didn’t already know the titans, she would absolutely introduce you to them as soon as she can

She can’t help but smile when she looks at you

She gives you her clothes if you want <3

She’d only open up after a while, it wouldn’t take too long, but she would still be a little distant

She loves being close to you and like hugging you or holding hands

Very up for PDA

No making out or anything, but will hug you and hold your hand in public

She just thinks you’re the most interesting person ever

She remembers every word you tell her

She would probably get matching piercings with you omgggg

She loves painting your nails to match hers

Like Dick, she can also tell when you’re lying. (But that’s just a side effect from her abilities)

She always posts pictures or videos of you on her social media if she has any

Will always offer you an earbud if she’s listening to music, will be very happy if you do the same

She loves learning about what music you listen to

Loves getting matching anything (hoodies, rings, even online profile pictures)

Her favourite part of you is your eyes or your hands

Garfield Logan

When he sees you’re upset, he will say the worst jokes he can think of to make you laugh

Even when you’re not upset he does that anyway

He just loves hearing your laugh or seeing your smile

He thinks it’s the cutest thing ever

Absolutely LOVES playing video games with you

It’s literally his favourite thing in the world

If he notices you’re cold, he might give you his jacket for a bit

Will defo turn into your favourite animal for you

Especially if it’s a dog or a cat so he can cuddle with you

Opens up so fast tbh

It’s good tho that means he trusts you

Little spoon fosho 😜😜😜

He loves holding or touching you in some way

Loves PDA sm

Just loves proving you’re his

The titans probably knew about you the first day he saw you💀

He’d get you guys matching white shoes and get sharpies to Color them together <3

Would draw a wiener somewhere on em tho

PAINT HIS NAILS

He would make you do some stupid ahh tiktok dances with him

Would give you some stupid nicknames

His favourite thing about you is 100% your hair. He would absolutely adore touching it/playing with it, no matter the length

Jason Todd

He a little cute patootie

IDC WHAT HES DONE

Everyone he talks to knows about you tbh

He’s just so proud of you

He makes so many sexual jokes it’s wild

Also always grabs your ass 😢

Gives you some cringe nickname

He doesn’t like opening up, I can understand that

He prefers hearing you talk, rather than him

Would protect you with his mf life

Also would teach you to fight

He wants to know that you can protect yourself when he’s not there

Adores it when you clean his wounds or rub his shoulders after fights

He’s pretty secretive but would probably break down one day and tell you everything

Would definitely give you his hoodies/sweaters

Into PDA

He just likes to prove to everyone that you’re his tho

Loves to hold you

His face part of you is ur nose

Easy to kiss

Koriand’r

She’s gorgeous my wife

She seems more stoic, but she really cares about you, more than anything

She loves to talk shit with you tbh

Only abt people who deserve it ofc

She loves when you make her laugh, it makes her feel more comfortable with you

Matching jewelry 🔛🔝

Loves it when you play with her hair

She can’t really use words to express how she feels about you, prefers to use her actions instead

She doesn’t want you to think differently of her because she is a princess or whatever

She’s had plenty of past lovers, but she knows you’re her favourite

She’ll take a while to open up, but she will eventually

Doesn’t do PDA

Or very much physical affection as it is

Will still hug you tho <3

Like everyone else, she will do everything she can to protect you and make sure you don’t get hurt

Will k word anyone who looks at you the wrong way

She’s very protective

And kinda jealous

She loves every part of you lowkey

The end guys idk what else to write

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jaegeraether · 4 months

Text

Sunsets and footballers (Part 49)

Lucy Bronze x Reader (44) & Jordan Nobbs x Leah Williamson Mini (6)

Masterlist (other parts here)

Jordan woke shortly after 7am, her body programmed to, regardless of how late she went to sleep. She was alone on the couch when she woke, a blanket covering her and could hear soft whispers as if they were trying to avoid disturbing her. She rubbed her eyes and sat up, looking over the back of the couch to YFN and Lucy who were sitting on the kitchen counter stools opposite each other. YFN winced as Lucy gently rubbed some cream into her palms. She’d been knocked down in Barcelona just a few days prior and although her knees had been protected with her pants, her hands had copped quite a scraping. She watched as they interacted, sitting close so their thighs were touching and looking at each other when the other wasn’t looking as if they were high-school sweethearts. She and Leah had been similar once, for seven years almost. After they’d broken up, Jordan had thought it was because she’d done something wrong at first, and then she thought perhaps Leah had just fallen out of that love for each other that she still felt. Seeing her around so often hurt like a knife in the heart. The thought that what was once the promise of a lifetime, reduced to nothing. Their sweet nothings, torn away, replaced by generic teammate speech and not even the good, fun kind like with Katie and Caitlin and Lucy, but the bad kind; the ignoring, the minimal words, the monotone, the lack of emotion as if Leah really wanted to get it through to her that she meant nothing to her anymore. It had broken her, and she hadn’t fought it.

She hadn’t seen the point. When Leah makes a decision, she makes a decision. Captain Leah Williamson. Truthfully, Jordan never felt like she was good enough for Leah with the dresses, interviews, events, paparazzi. With her fame and the expectation that surrounded her. It took a while for her to be thankful of that, because it had meant it was easier to understand why they broke up. It took a while, of course; with the five stages of grief. The denial came from shock and was immediate as her mind simply refused to believe it. The anger came next when she’d seen Leah laughing and enjoying herself around their friends. Then came the bargaining as she delved deep in herself to understand why and think back on their relationship to try and find the cracks, what she’d done wrong or what Leah had done that wasn’t so perfect either. She couldn’t find them, though. Leah was perfect to her. She was messy, stubborn, insistent, always being pulled every direction by people like a puppet. She remembered times where Leah had been crying on the couch with the pain of her endometriosis; Jordan tucking her in with some painkillers and a hot water bottle on her lower belly, and other times where she came home almost a shell of a person because she’d been stretched too far and hadn’t seen her psychologist in a while. But Jordan never saw any of those things as less than perfection. Leah always spoke about her imperfections, and Jordan had listened as she always did, Leah complaining about herself, and that Jordan probably wouldn’t remember anyways.

Truth is, she remembered a lot of those little things, she would just forget the things that weren’t so important to her. And with Leah’s self-proclaimed imperfections, came the happiness Jordan couldn’t forget. Leah loving to sing in the shower, so loud Jordan would chuckle at it from the kitchen. Her confidence. Her sense of humour. The fact that she never liked being the butt of jokes. Her love of golf. Her ability to drive confidence into a team, regardless of if she was captaining the side or not, just her presence and aura. She really tried to hang on the ‘bad’, but it wasn’t bad to her. Instead, the happy memories had flooded her mind and with that, Jordan fell deep into stage four of grieving. Depression. That’s when YFN had found her at the beach. She hadn’t known how long Jordan had been going for, but truthfully, it had been months. She’d only been at that beach for a week or so during the International break, however prior to that, she’d been sitting in whatever park she could find, just laying back and staring at the sky as it darkened. She thought she’d be stuck in that fourth stage forever, hitting her lowest point when she’d met the Australian. She was the perfect person at the perfect time. An unbiased ear, uninvolved in any of the drama of women’s football. Jordan hadn’t gone to anyone else because they were all so involved. Everyone knew Leah. She never realised just how much her whole life, all her friends, all of her everything was involved in the sport and the people in it. It was sobering and terrifying to be in that mind state. There had been times where she knew she should have reached out to someone, anyone, but she couldn’t. She knew if she spoke to Leah that she would have been there for her, but Jordan never let her know how low she had fallen. If she’d known, she would have dropped anything and Jordan knew that. Luckily, YFN had brought something else into her life. A different perspective, a different kind of friendship. Pure empathy and love from a stranger who just wanted to see Jordan happy again with nothing in return. Only after being around her and speaking with her did Jordan realise how dark her mind had become, and so she automatically gravitated towards the light that was YFN. Spending time with her and chatting about anything and everything, lots of which wasn’t football, which was new to her. She’d encouraged her to go on dates, and even held her feelings for Lucy aside. Jordan still didn’t know how she did that; just looking at the two, they were magnetic. And looking at them now over the back of the couch, Jordan realised for the first time that maybe this was a hard lesson she needed to go through, because now she was stronger, and if it hadn’t happened, she wouldn’t have a new friend, and YFN and Lucy would have never met.

Lucy finished rubbing the cream gently into her palms and turned them over, kissing her knuckles. She looked up and they shared that look that Jordan had seen often, the one where they shared their love with their eyes. It shifted slightly to a hint of melancholy at what Jordan could only assume was Lucy’s upcoming flight home that morning. Lucy leant forwards to kiss her when Jordan’s stomach growled loudly and they both spun to her. A moment of surprise was quickly overcome with sympathetic smiles.

“Morning Jords.”

“Morning Dory,” YFN untangled her body from Lucy’s and came over to lean over the couch. Jordan laid back down and stretched. “Good sleep?”

“I think it’s the best I’m going to get,” she admitted.

“What time did you say you had to leave…?”

“I have to be at training by midday. I’m lucky Carla has given me that off to be fair.”

YFN hummed. “Okay well you need to leave by 9:30. It’s currently…” she looked at her watch. “…7:22, so we all have a few hours together.”

Jordan rubbed her eyes again and yawned as she nodded. “What time is Lucy’s flight?”

“She changed it to 1pm so she can come to work with me for a few hours and see the new office.”

Jordan popped her head back up over the couch. “Don’t you have a game tomorrow?”

Lucy nodded. “Yeah, but my knee is being a pain. Jonatan knows I work hard so I’ve only trained a few days this week to avoid straining it. I have a boxing class tonight though which will be my work out before the game.”

“You’re playing?”

“The full ninety if my knee can take it,” she shrugged. “It’s El Clasico, they’ll have to drag me off.”

Jordan chuckled and YFN rolled her eyes, giving Lucy a look. She didn’t like it when she was in pain. “So we can all have breakfast together, if you want? Lucy’s favourite around the corner?”

Jordan nodded as she wondered where Leah was. It was early. She would be up and on her way to the oval, perhaps. She was training again, close to playing so-

YFN’s hand on her shoulder snapped her out of it. Jordan looked up at her. “How are you feeling about last night..?”

Of course, YFN had known what she was thinking about. She had that ability with people; she always knew what they were thinking. Jordan appreciated that because it meant she didn’t have to speak her feelings so much, which was the reason she’d gotten so low in the first place. She looked over at Lucy who was silent, and listening to what she had to say.

“I’m…overwhelmed I think. I’m trying to understand what my feelings about it are. I just started to get better… to potentially move on and… this.”

YFN nodded, understanding, and squeezed her shoulder. “What do you need right now?”

Jordan sighed. “I want to get back to what I know which is training for the game tomorrow.”

“But what do you want…? In this moment? Before you go home and try to figure it all out?”

YFN looked like she already knew, and just wanted her to say. Jordan knew what she wanted. “What I want doesn-”

“None of that bullshit, Jords,” she said. “What do you want?”

“It’s stupid…”

“Nothing is stupid. Be honest with yourself.”

“I don’t know if I will ever trust her again or let myself be with her again. But right now, knowing what she did for me without me even realising… and finally knowing that we weren’t broken after all… I just want to hug her. No talking, no awkwardness. I just want a Leah hug.” Leah hugs were the best part of her day, something she missed. It was pure comfort for her. But she knew she couldn’t have that-

“We can arrange that.”

Jordan’s teary eyes shot up to YFN’s. “What?”

“I’ll give Leah a call. No talking, no awkwardness, just a hug.”

“She has training,” she whispered.

“Not today, she’s a guest at a local kids football club this morning just around the corner.”

Jordan didn’t know that. She was nervous suddenly.

“Just a hug,” YFN reassured. “Then us three will go to breakfast before you head off to training.”

Jordan nodded and YFN bent down to give her a tight hug. “If she says no-”

“She won’t say no. And until she gets here, you’re just going to have to enjoy my hugs.”

Jordan chuckled and squeezed her tighter.

“I’ll be in the shower,” Lucy said. She wandered over and kissed YFN on the cheek when they finished their hug. “Join me after your call?”

YFN nodded and went outside to make her phone call while Jordan started packing her clothes. YFN didn’t take too long before she was back inside and joining Lucy in the master ensuite. “We’ll put more cream on these after the shower,” Lucy said, looking at her palms before pulling her close and kissing her on the temple. “You’re a really good friend, little one.”

YFN leaned into her lips, enjoying the love before they parted and she left Lucy under the water to grab her toothbrush. “So are you, Luce,” she said with a smile and began to brush her teeth all while unashamedly looking Lucy up and down.

“Like what you see?” She asked with a Lucy grin as she washed herself.

She couldn’t help but reach out and run her fingertips over Lucy’s abs, nodding.

“Good because it’s yours. Get used to it.”

“I’ll never get used to it,” YFN said around her toothbrush.

Lucy chuckled. “Oh, what happens if I get a belly after I retire?”

YFN spat out her toothpaste and put her brush back. “Well I know how much you like your food…”

Lucy looked offended.

“And condiments have a lot of calories…”

Even more offended.

YFN grinned and stepped back under the water with Lucy, one palm rubbing her belly. “I’ll love you with a belly, Luce. I’ll love you because you’re you.”

Lucy loved that. She took her wrists gently and dragged them up around her neck, her own hands moving to her hips to hold them flush together as she kissed her. The combination of her soft lips and the taste of toothpaste had her moaning into her mouth. How did she get so lucky? They kissed like that for a little longer before she pressed their foreheads together and opened up to YFN. She didn't even know she had anything more to open up to her, but the words just fell out.

“I’m worried nothing will feel like love again after you,” she admitted huskily.

YFN gasped; words were her love language. Along with all of the along love languages.

“Oh, Luce,” she murmured with affection and kissed her once before being cheeky. “Play your cards right and there won’t be an ‘after me’.”

Lucy chuckled. “There are different types of love, love. You know what I meant.”

“I know… and let’s see how you feel if we have babies.”

“Babies?!” Lucy asked, her head pulling back. YFN was shocked. Had she spoken too soon? One look at Lucy’s lit up eyes and she knew she hadn’t. “You mean ‘when’, not ‘if’.”

“Oh, is that right?”

“Yes.”

YFN hummed. “You’ll make a really good mum, Luce.”

Lucy leant down and nipped her ear. “And you’re going to be so sexy pregnant.”

YFN bit her lip, feeling herself getting excited. She couldn’t help her body reacting to Lucy or leaning even more into her strong body. Lucy noticed, of course, and she pressed back as her hands moved down to her ass-

“Are you guys drowning in there?!” Jordan yelled from outside their bedroom. Somehow it was loud enough to hear.

“Just a minute!” YFN yelled in reply as she laughed. She looked back at Lucy who was still giving her a look. She scoffed and pointed her towards the shower door. Lucy pouted and gave her another kiss before she opened the door. YFN turned back towards the body wash as Lucy’s hand smacked her ass so hard, Jordan must have heard the sound. YFN yelped at the sting and turned but the shower door was already closed, Lucy laughing on the other side as she took a towel. Oh, the cheek of her.

YFN somehow managed to dry, get dressed and avoid Lucy’s hungry looks and teasing. It was barely manageable, and only because her focus was on Jordan. As she dragged Lucy’s little suitcase out into the living area, her phone buzzed. It was Leah.

“Leah’s here…” YFN said and watched as Jordan became even more nervous. She looked at YFN with those doe eyes of hers. YFN wandered over and put a hand on either arm. “Just a hug.”

“Is it stupid?”

“No. A lot of things can be said with a hug. You can forgive with a hug, and love with a hug. Go get what you need, Dory.”

Jordan nodded and walked nervously to the door. She paused and took a deep breath before she took hold of the door handle and stepped outside. Leah was leant up against her car, sunglasses on, arms crossed and staring down at her feet. When she noticed Jordan, she stood immediately and moved the glasses to the top of her head, her arms not knowing what to do by her side. Jordan wanted to hug her. Leah needed it just as much as she did. She waited for Jordan to approach her and when she came closer, Leah held her arms out wordlessly. Jordan fell right back into that usual spot she had for seven years, her head buried in Leah’s neck and her hands pressing into her back as Leah’s longer arms wrapped around her upper back, holding her close while her cheek rested on her hair. They stood there for a while, feeling each other’s chests rise and fall with each breath, feeling each other’s heartbeats through their clothes. It was a release of emotion and felt like safety to each of them. Safety in knowing they could still comfort each other. That regardless of what happened, they would always love each other.

Jordan only spoke when she was completely and utterly relaxed in her arms.

“Thank you for protecting me,” she whispered. Leah shivered at the feel of her lips moving against the skin of her neck. She opened her mouth and Jordan stopped her. “No…no, don’t speak. Please. This is all I can take right now.”

Leah nodded softly against her hair. Jordan started to let go slowly, reluctantly, and Leah unwillingly followed suit. Everything was at her pace now. Still touching, Jordan looked up and asked softly, “Can I pencil in another hug for Sunday night?”

Leah smiled and nodded. Of course, she could.

“And maybe dinner…” Jordan suggested, her eyes moving down to her shoes before she took a breath and looked back up.

Leah nodded again; her eyes soft. Whatever she wanted, she’d give her.

“Thank you,” Jordan whispered, sharing one more look before she stepped back out of Leah’s grip and walked back up to the front door. Leah watched her every step of the way. She had no idea how she’d ever been strong enough to push her away. Her whole being ached for her, already missing her touch, let alone everything else. But now she had something to hope for. Sunday night.

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