#I keep turning simple asks into mini fics

[sh1-n0bu]

♡︎ 𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙮 𝙮𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙝𝙪𝙨𝙗𝙖𝙣𝙙! ♡︎

characters: sub!yandere!AFAB!characters x dom!gn!reader

warnings: character uses he/him pronouns but has female genitalia/tcock (words such as pussy, vagina, cunt will be used), character is transmale, reader has you/your pronouns, cock/strap, yandere character, established relationship, protected sex, unprotected sex (don’t do that folks), breeding, creampie, belly bulge, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of death and light torture

notes: you can think of any character you want with this fic, i just had a wild thought during a car ride at my vacation. divider from @/cafekitsune

yandere! husband who has been in love with you since they first met you. what started out as a simple fascination developed into an unhealthy obsession until he finally got the courage to ask you out on an official date

yandere! husband who gets surprised when you accept his ask for a date, sheepishly smiling as you tell him that you found him pretty and had been building up the courage to do the same. who nearly fall into his knees right then and there with sheer nervousness yet also giddiness at your confession, finding the wobbly smile on your face endearing

yandere! husband who gradually built a stable relationship with you over time. there were moments where he thought of just drugging you up and stealing you away to keep you all to himself but he chastised himself for such thoughts when you have been nothing but loyal and honest. he thought of killing those annoying bitches and assholes who tried to hit on you or blatantly flirted with you in front of him, imagining cutting out their tongue and burning their eyes with scolding hot iron only to snap back to the present when your hand wound around his waist, introducing him as your lover excitedly

yandere! husband who got scared when you accidentally walked in while he was changing after a shower, terrified that you will leave him after having seen his top scars and cunt. who could hear his heartbeat in his own ears, rapidly beating like a frightened bird thrown into a cage while he waited your reaction. who try to apologize only to be cut off with your comforting words and accepting hug

yandere! husband who proposed to you first, getting on both of his knees as he presented you the ring in the box. who lets out a sweet laugh when you kneel down in return, showing your own ring that you bought for him

yandere! husband who definitely cried on your wedding, wiping away his tears silently as he turns his back to you, not wanting you to see him in such a weak and vulnerable state. turning back to you with the wet handkerchief still in his hand, who can feel the tears coming back once again as he sees your knowing look and comforting smile

yandere! husband who is happy with your married life. the new adventures of moving into a new house, decorating it to your liking and modifying your rooms being an exciting life for him. he loved the moments where you two put paint of each other’s faces instead of painting the walls, choosing the colors on complete random with an eeny, meeny, mini, mo game, dancing with you bare feet in the kitchen as you both wait for the water to boil for the cup ramen at midnight. he would want to hold your hand in his own, the wedding rings clicking against each other softly as he giggles

yandere! husband who wants to try for a baby after years into the marriage. it was a surprise to him how he managed to wait patiently for so long after your marriage. while he wanted desperately to get himself knocked up at the night of consummation of your marriage, he understood your wishes to wait until the perfect time. finally, he thinks it is the perfect timing, after years of protected sex and daydreams of feeling his cunt get filled, tells you of his plan

yandere! husband who purposefully poked a tiny hole into every condom there is at your home, who huffs a fake annoyed noise whenever the material tears as you try to put it around your strap. he may have a pout on his face and talk about trying it raw on the outside but on the inside he is fucking giddy. he wants to feel your cock constantly pushing into his wet pussy walls so bad and he couldn’t help but curse silently under his breath when you take out a lone condom that was thankfully reserved in the pockets of one of your pants

yandere! husband who suggests on riding you instead of taking it as usual. a sudden change in your usual sex life but you didn’t mind trying new things out. laying on your back, you watch and let out occasional groans and low moans as you see how his sweet pussy swallows you whole, the fat of his ass higgling every time he bounces himself on your strap, asking you to slap and squeeze it. which you do gladly, lightly slapping as the jiggling flesh, making your husband giggle

yandere! husband who gets annoyed as the feeling of the condom around your cock, skillfully bouncing himself until he ‘accidentally’ slips your strap out. he swears it was the amount of lube you used, grabbing your cock with his hand and tapping his dripping pussy with the tip. your husband who makes a show, wiggling his hips as he slides the tip inside and sinking down until he feels full again. not yet, he thinks to himself, knowing that you would get suspicious if he tries his plan too early on

yandere! husband who keeps ‘accidentally’ slipping your strap out of his gushing cunt, whining until his patience finally ends. the next time it slips out, his fingers pinch at the tip of the wet condom, pulling on the material with a pout and a mumbled “it’s in the way..” until it comes off with a lewd pop!

yandere! husband who disregards your frantic words of protection and taking a second for you to put on another one, turning around to face you now as he sinks down onto your strap with one move. the feeling of your own cock, without any annoying latex in the way making him cream around your fat cockhead instantly, a drawn out satisfied whine falling from his lips

yandere! husband who clenches around your strap on purpose every time he moves. his hands guiding yours to touch his chest, the top scars that healed beautifully and to squeeze and fondle his nipples “u-until i sta—anngh ah haagh mmgh♡︎! start to lactate, just like your sweet baby momma uungh♥︎!!” while his pretty pussy squeezes your strap like a vice, unwilling to let go or not even daring to think so. he wanted to feel your cum, hot seeds painting his walls white and making his legs shake

yandere! husband who silences your weak protests for a protection with a messy kiss. noses knocking together, tongue immediately pushing into your mouth and wanting to ‘connect’ with you on a deeper level. he wanted everything you have to offer and seeing the small trail of saliva left behind as you pulled back for a gasping breath made him giggle deliriously

yandere! husband who increases his pace when he hears you struggling to talk, words of cumming together coming out in a jumbled mess as he sits himself fully in your lap. pushing your pelvises together until no gap was between them, throwing his head back with a satisfied mewl when he finally feels it. that warmth he’s been craving so long, filling up his womb, mixing with his love juice as the excessive mixed cum drops down your strap

yandere! husband who gets pushed into his back, legs pushed up and over until his knees were beside his head. put into a mating press with your annoyed face staring down at him just made him clench around you, a drunk giggle of your name falling from his lips. he gladly spreads his weeping pussy open further, with you still inside him, letting you see the mess you two made

yandere! husband who drops his act entirely, wiggling his hips with heart shaped pupils as he asks you to breed him. cum inside him as many times as you want, he wants a baby with you, it’s about time you two take your relationship to the next level. “i’ll be a good baby momma… and you’re already a wonderful lover who would become a wonderful parent. come on [name], breed me full of your seeds♥︎”

yandere! husband who gets fucked thoroughly to his wish. crying out all sorts of filthy words every time your cock sinks back into his cunt. thin drools on his chin, old tear stains constantly being replaced by new ones as his pussy clenches around you for the nth time, forcing you to cum earlier than you usually does. overwhelming amount of your mixed cum wetting the bedsheets, your thighs and his own as well as his butt. not like he cared, he wanted to make sure he gets knocked up, that you get him knocked up as he creams around you again, creating an even thicker halo of white around your strap

yandere! husband who shows his filthier side, holding your head against his chest and asking you to suck on his nipples, who place your hand over his tcock, telling you to “s-stroke! my cock too ahh haagh♡︎ mgh n-not fair that mmuungh uunghk my cock is being left alone♡︎!”

yandere! husband who lets out one last hoarse wail, the wetness of his cunt making you groan as your strap cums inside him for the nth time that night before collapsing on top of him. he had passed out, tired from the continuous pounding he received as he lay there peacefully with flushed red cheeks, tearstains and drools on his chin and cheeks while pretty bruises and lovebites cover his skin. the most notable bruises being the ones on his hips and thighs, making you grimace at the painful wound you saw. but hey, the small bulge in his belly from your excessive cum inside his womb made you happy. it definitely made him happy too

yandere! husband who occasionally regains consciousness during your aftercare for him. who groans and refuses to let you pull out for bath, straddling your lap inside the warm water filled bathtub. he couldn’t help but slur out a “noo… don’t pull out” as you push his pelvic away from yours, feeling the cum inside his pussy to drip down his legs

yandere! husband who now eagerly wait for the signs of pregnancy with a full boxes of pregnancy test at his side of the nightstand, who still poke secret holes into your condoms because when did he said he wanted only one baby with you?

⇨ characters i think fits: jing yuan, dan feng, yingxing, sunday, aventurine, argenti, dan heng il, gepard, sampo, luocha, caelus, luka, jiaoqui, itto, baizhu, ayato, thoma, childe, pantalone, dottore, kaeya, kaveh, lyney, neuvillette, sethos, heizou, venti, rubedo, aalto, xiangli yao, scar, yoriichi, haganezuka, douma, kaigaku, jyugo, uno, kiji, honey, trois, kenshirou yozakura, musashi, houzuki sanzou, ruka gojou, seitarou, tsukumo, mitsuru, sinbad, sharkkan, spartos, koumei, titus, muu alexius, sphintus, rafayel, mammon, asmodeus, mephistopheles, diavolo, belphegor, simeon, solomon, satan + anyone you like

[mrsrookhunt]

What to Expect When Your Lab Experiment Drinks Formula

PART TWO, PART THREE

A continuation (Mini fic Ver.) fic of what I made for Rook, HERE

| Synop.: You and your lab partner make a mistake in your potion, one that comes out looking strangely like it's related to you.. |

Characters: Azul Ashengrotto, Malleus Draconia, Lilia Vanrouge, Floyd Leech, Sebek Zigvolt, (Rook Hunt) x MC

Warnings: Suggestive (Floyd), Angst (Sebek), implied light manipulation (Malleus)

Scroll Farther Alert! There's a narration cut for the second part of each fic after the first portion. Don't miss it! Each ends with fluff. Sebek's is long, fair warning.

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You're trying to make a simple transformation potion, aging up a tadpole to a frog, when you add the wrong ingredient, and use one drop too many on the poor tadpole. The result is a child that looks eerily like the two of you...

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Azul Ashengrotto

"Holy-- great sevens, Azul, is that a child??"

He holds it up a foot away from him, equally baffled.

"Don't ask me! You're the one who insisted on using the wrong ingredients!"

"You were the one who picked those--"

"WAHHHHHH--" The baby flails its arms and fusses at your petty squabbles.

You turn your attention back to the small creature, looking disoriented from being held so far away from any solid ground.

Azul's watching too, as the child seems to scold you both with an oddly knowing glare that could kill.

You've seen that glare before--

"Azul, am I crazy, or does that thing look like you??"

"Weh." It motions towards you as Azul looks over it.

"Gracious, so it does. And it looks like you too. Look at its' nose and eyes."

You come closer to look, but the baby seems intent on having you hold it, squirming out of Azul's hands.

"Ahem, I believe the little one wants you--"

He pushes the wiggly baby into your arms, taking the moment to reposition his glasses, which had slid down with nervous sweat.

"I'll go talk to professor Crewel, there is undoubtedly something he can do about this."

Malleus Draconia

"Child of man! What is that you're holding?"

"Um... it was supposed to be a frog...."

Malleus takes it from you, holding it cautiously. The little baby he holds has soft black hair, slit-pupiled eyes the same color as yours, and suspiciously familiar shorter horns. It coos at him and motions to his horns with curious, grabby hands.

"Whatever we did, we must have touched it at the same time, Tsunotarou... Because it looks like a mix of both of us."

He puts it on the back of his neck with his arms up to support the chubby infant as it grabs at his horns.

"Hm. It's quite cute, Child of man. We can keep it in Diasomnia if Ramshackle doesn't have the capacity to care for it."

You stare on in disbelief.

"It's... its a frog with a transformation potion... we can't keep it, Malleus!"

He frowns, taking the infant down from his shoulders and cradling the small bundle to his chest.

"The potion had birch seed in it. The transformation is permanent; so I don't see a reason to get rid of it."

Malleus smiles, tickling its chubby cheeks.

"There's no way it's totally permane-- Wait. Didn't you have me add some of those ingredients? Did you know this would happen?"

Malleus is suspiciously silent.

"Malleu--"

"I'll go ask professor Crewel if there's a reversal." He sighs, handing the baby to you and moping all the way to the desk.

Lilia Vanrouge

"If you wanted a baby, precious, you could've just asked--"

You nearly slap him. So cocky, when there's a baby that looks suspiciously like you and Lilia on the table where a grown frog should be.

"Sevens, Lilia, this is not the time--"

He chuckles.

"In my defense, I told you not to use a sprig of pine."

You splutter, lost for words and flustered. The baby certainly seems to share Lilia's sense of humor, giggling mischievously at your flustered expression.

You pick it up before Lilia can, determined to barge straight into professor Crewel's office if you had to to get an answer on what this thing was.

"Heh, MC, the baby's smiling at you--" Lilia calls from a distance. You look down and find that the baby is indeed wholeheartedly excited that you're paying it attention, reaching its chubby arms up to feel your face and grab your nose.

"Aww.. so cute," You whisper, blowing a stray breath into its face for amusement.

"I heard that!" Lilia shouts from the table. "Don't go getting too attached now. I'm not raising another child, darling."

"Shush! I'm taking it to the professor right now, you have nothing to worry about."

Floyd Leech

"SHRIMPY, CAN WE KEEP IT---"

Floyd is whirling the baby around in excited twirls.

It's a very cute moment, but you're still baffled at the little creature's existence-- since it very much didn't exist about 10 seconds ago.

"Floyd, I'm pretty sure that's just an oversized tadpole..."

He stops in mock offense, thrusting the baby into your face.

"Does this look like a tadpole to you?? Unless you're suggesting that we both look like tadpoles, in which case, I'm taking offense because this baby looks like us."

He puts it down to play with its tiny legs.

"Look, shrimpy! It's going for a walk--" He pauses to think. "A sky walk!!" And continues to make the little one's legs 'walk'.

While Floyd is busy making baby noises to amuse the child, you're panicking. This potion had birch seed-- an ingredient known to make transformation potions permanent, if you remembered correctly.

"Floyd, c'mon, give it here, we need to take this to profess--"

"NOO we'll keep it!!!" Floyd holds the baby tight to his chest. "It's wayyy too cute!"

You pry the baby from him reluctantly.

"We cannot just keep a child, Floyd, it's not an animal--"

"If you take this one I'm just gonna make another one!!" He cries, moving to grab another tadpole from the tank.

"NO NO NO NO FLOYD--"

"Well don't take my little sea-star then!!"

You sigh.

"I'm almost 100% sure this is permanent anyway, but neither of us are in a position to care for this baby. We might as well take it to the professors and see if they can do something. We can't just hide the fact that we accidentally made a baby for our final project anyway---"

He mutters something about 'could've made a baby other ways, but it had to be the boring way', but allows you to go with the little one, who coos in your ear.

You hear a clatter.

"GET YOUR HAND OUT OF THE TADPOLE TANK, FLOYD--"

Sebek Zigvolt

"Human, explain. Explain----"

The baby bites his finger, which apparently was pointing at it too close for its liking.

"Ouch--! What do you think you're doing, little tyke? Do you think that just because you're an infant that you have an excuse to bite a retainer of the great Waka-sama??"

The baby looks blankly at him.

"You can't scold a baby, Sebek." You scoffed, bouncing the child on your hip.

"Fine! But you still have to explain why this child has my hair and eyes and....-- isn't that your nose?" He looks momentarily horrified as he comes to the conclusion you came to minutes earlier.

"Oh NO NO NO NO MC THAT IS NOT OUR CHILD, TELL ME THAT CREATURE ISN'T OURS--"

"For goodness sake Sebek you're shouting right in our baby's ear--"

"'OUR'?? THAT IS NOT 'OUR' ANYTHING, THAT IS YOUR POTIONOLOGY MISTAKE AND NOTHING MORE--"

He's babbling nearly incoherently at this point, and you have to stop the baby from attempting to bite him again out of what you can only assume is annoyance.

"...I would NEVER have a child with a lowly, magicless human, this CANNOT get out---"

"waah...wEHHHHHHHH"

Sebek stops talking for a moment, ears ringing.

You, too, are shocked.

"Sebek.. if it's not your child then I have ANOTHER auditory atrocity of a person to avoid on this planet."

"..."

"I'm taking it to professor Crewel."

"I think that's wise."

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You/ your lab partner take the child to professor Crewel, who determines that it is in fact a permanent transformation, and that biologically the baby is as much yours as any other naturally born to the two of you.

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Azul Ashengrotto

"Are... you ok, Azul? You've been staring into space for a... ahem, awhile."

The baby crawls around the the VIP Room of Mostro Lounge, bumping into walls. You suspect it may need glasses.

Surprisingly, the baby seems well-tempered, unless you have the misfortune of holding it the wrong way or otherwise inconveniencing it, to which it seems highly irritated.

However, it was one 'just like your father' comment that sent the already figity Azul into an unresponsive state.

"Was, um.. was that too soon?" You ask tentatively.

"..Yes.. yes, I think it was." He responds distantly.

"Azul, it's gonna be ok. We'll figure it out." You get up from the floor to hold his hand.

He meets your gaze, eyes sharp and calculating.

"Yes, of course we'll be fine, how could we not be? Finances are no issue and we could always hire a babysitter and.... well, it's not that. It's just a lot to take in."

"Today's been wild," You agree softly, gently picking up the baby to put it in his lap. "But I'm here for you."

You lean down to the baby's level.

"We're here for you, little one."

Malleus Draconia

"I still CANNOT believe you knew, Malleus--"

You're still squabbling with him pointlessly, even though the damage is already done. You can honestly say you've well warmed up to the baby, and Malleus seems to be doing worse than you on the details, having apparently very little idea how to care for a child other than playing with it.

"I'm sorry, Child of Man. I didn't know it was permanent," He insists calmly, but you don't quite believe that.

You sigh. He can act clueless as long as he'd like, but the overly exuberant smile on his face while interacting with your child says more than words.

He picked up the baby and put it down on his bed, already having sewn little, special pillows for the baby to sleep comfortably with its horns.

"You better be a good dad, you hear me?" You say, less threatening that you thought it would come out.

He beckons you over to the bed to lay down next to your baby.

"I will, Child of Man, I promise."

Lilia Vanrouge

You knock on his dorm room door, baby on your hip.

"So..um.. bad news, Lilia... it's perman-- Are you having a party?"

He shoos out at least 10 members of Diasomnia.

"I know, dear. Unfortunately I didn't realize what you had done in time to stop you. So I was having a little 'last moments of freedom party'. How sad, and Silver was essentially all grown up now.. Well, what's another 16 years?"

You're speechless. You had kind of forgotten that he was Silver's adoptive father.

"I'm... sorry, Lilia, I should've payed closer attention to the instructions and I screwed up--"

"Hush, it's fine. It's not the end of the world."

He takes the baby from you.

"I already brought in an old cradle and some food for our little one, see?"

He points out an old wooden crib next to his bed.

"Wow... you're.. so prepared, and I haven't even thought about that stuff.."

He smiled at you, nuzzling the baby's cheek a few times simultaneously.

"I'll admit, it got me a little excited. I didn't think an old man like myself would get the chance to raise a child of my own flesh and blood. But never say never, I suppose. You have nothing to worry about, precious. What you don't know, I have already experienced."

"...Thank you for being so understanding, Lilia."

"Of course, dear, after all, we're a family now."

Bonus the one stipulation is that you will not and will not ever share the cooking duties with him. Silver makes you swear by it to avoid his own childhood traumas for his younger siblings.

Floyd Leech

You brace yourself for the inevitable flurry of excitement before knocking on Floyd's door.

"WHERE'S MY LITTLE SEA STARRRRRR~~~~" You hear from the other side of the door before the door flies open. You hand the baby off to Floyd, who's more than ecstatic.

"It's permanent," you sigh, hoping he's listening. "We have to take care of the baby now--"

"WheeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEE" Floyd runs back and forth across the small room with the child, making faces all the while.

"Floyd!" You scold, finally breaking his stride.

"Ehh? I hear you, shrimpy, how can I not? It's ok, I have a plan. We'll love this baby with our whole hearts!"

"...That's the plan?"

"I spent two hours thinking of it, do you like it?"

"That child cannot stay here," A smooth voice cuts in. "This room is much too small for the two of us, let alone a third."

"Oh, hey Jade, didn't see ya come in," Floyd remarks casually. "And obviously I've thought of that. The baby will live in Ramshackle, because there's more space. It just needs some touch ups to be babyproof, is all."

"Touch-ups? It needs a whole remodel."

Floyd grins.

"Got an idea, shrimpy. Transfer to Octavinelle! Then the baby can share a room with you and we'll all be nearby!"

"Oh forget it, I'm asking Crowley to help me improve Ramshackle. Until then, you'll have to deal with the living arrangements." You put your hands on your hips and give Jade a look that means you'll raise hell if he doesn't agree to you and Floyd's half-baked plans.

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt, so long as it was temporary."

"YESSSSS!!!!!"

Floyd's excitement leads to him jumping on you.

"D'ya hear that, Shrimpy? That means you can stay here too. And we'll be one big happy family."

Sebek Zigvolt

"Sebek?" You gently knock on his door, after having been told he'd been doing nothing but pacing around all evening.

"Sebek," you call again, a bit louder.

The door swings open violently.

"What?? Who dare disturb my-- oh. Human." He ushers you into his room swiftly.

"You still have the child? When does it leave?" He asked quickly.

"It doesn't," You said bluntly, putting down the freshly bathed and swaddled bundle onto his bed.

"Don't touch----! Ugh.. Besides... What do you mean, 'it doesn't'? It's leaving, I will not have that thing associated with the Zigvolt name just because of some lowly human's stupid mistakes!"

If you weren't so exhausted, you would be shouting at a decibel rivaling his own.

"Sevens, Sebek, it's permanent, no way around it. I can't go back in time and change this-! You were the one reading off the ingredients anyway, how dare you blame this on me?" You challenge.

"Ah-ahh.. Well, why didn't you check yourself?? Do I need to do everything for you!?" He crossed his arms.

"No, but you do need to do your task, and competently!"

That seemed to shut him up.

"W-whatever. I cannot be a proper retainer to--"

"Fine. Then don't raise the baby at all, I'll take care of it. I never said you had to involved."

"...I.. Human, I didn't say that." His tone seems to soften. You know he's got the weight of the world on his shoulders in his mind but you still find it hard to excuse his poor behavior.

He sits down next to the baby, picking it up at arms length.

"It's cute, just a bit. But I pity it.. it has even less faerie blood than me."

"Is that the heart of this?" You question gently, knowing it's a sore subject.

"Yes, I suppose so.."

"Sebek. Your heritage doesn't define you, and it won't define our child. You are an amazing, devoted person, and you've worked hard to be the person you are, and that's really all that matters. You have no reason to be upset, or worried. We can make this work, I promise. And I promise that I'll there to help you get through this. That is, if you're willing to."

He sighs, taking your hand.

"I fear I am diluting my sullied bloodline more than it already is. The Zigvolt family works with the royal family as their right-hand consults and guards. It's been that way for generations. But who would want a fae so adulterated with human genetics by their side?"

"I don't think that's true. If you really think that's the case, then why is Silver allowed to train as a protector as well? Malleus and Lilia are equally respectful of you both. You don't have to give up your family's title and honor just because of this."

He stiffens, a proud smile on his face.

"You are right, human! I shall not let this get the best of me. I will raise my child to be as dutiful as me!"

You laugh, relieved that he's warming up to the idea of having a family.

You kiss him on the forehead, giving him a hug that encompasses the baby in the middle.

"I'll work hard at being a good father, I swear on it."

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-June 30th, 2023

-Kaori

[qqtxt]

[🌸] careful pt.2 w/ txt

✿ pairing: ot5 x reader / fluff 🌸 / idol!txt / non.idol!you / minor cursing (none with ill-intention!) / mentions of small cuts, blood and bruises (nothing serious!) / mentions of food and eating ✿ mini-fics with each member for the same situation / less than 500 words for each member / altogether, word count: 3,126 words ✿ in which you hurt yourself and he tends to your wound. (pt.1 is here!) [masterlist 🌸] / other members under the cut! / @kflixnet​ ❤️‍🩹

gasp. i’m back! i hope everyone has been safe and healthy, and be careful. *winkwink* ✨

[🐰] soobin it’s like soobin’s able to detect something is wrong with the force the moment he hears a commotion coming from the kitchen. the loud noises distract him from watching his show, his body reacting faster than his mind can because he’s already moving from the sofa; beelining straight to the source of the sound.

he stands by the doorway of the kitchen, eyes frantically scanning to where the sound might’ve come from. he lets out a relieved breath when he spots the cans of soup around you, one in particular in your hand but what makes him squint is the mark that’s on your forearm.

“sorry,” you let out softly, awkwardly holding up a single can of–”i just wanted to make some soup,”

you didn’t process what soobin was frowning at when he walked over to you, peeling the can from your hand to set it on the counter nearby. he gently tugs you closer so he can inspect the now noticeable mark on your forearm. well, it could be because you shielded yourself the second the onslaught of cans started to come falling down. note to self: just grab a chair, climb on the counter, or–”you should’ve called me for help, you could’ve gotten seriously injured,”–yeah, that. you were just getting to that.

“i just...” you mutter under your breath, “didn’t want to bother you.”

“you’re never a bother,” he huffs, the frown embedding deeper on his face that the dimples appear out of frustration, rather than endearment on most days. you keep your lips shut and nod slowly, to which soobin sighs and shakes his head, using a thumb to rub circles along the mark even though he knows it hurts (but it was for the best).

“be careful, okay? i really, really don’t mind helping you at all.”

you chuckle, now seeing how your laughter confuses soobin.

“what’s so funny?”

“you’re just… cute, that’s all.”

soobin adjusts his stance, shifting his weight to the other foot, hip jutting out slightly as he grips your wrist with a raised brow and pursed lips. you give in very, very quickly when you can sense the way soobin looks at you is more of a warning than an indulgence to keep poking fun at the situation. “ah, okay, okay. i’ll ask you for help next time, mr. two feet tall.”

soobin ignores the last part of your sentence and smiles a little, “good.” 

he tugs your hand to follow his direction out of the kitchen, towards the sofa, “no soup until i’m done applying the ointment.”

tl;dr: introducing, mr. i’m-not-mad-just-worried-and-disappointed because he knows sometimes your injuries come from not being careless but from making the decision to risk things for the sake of not bothering others. (or trying to take a shortcut) so he’ll be a bit more “strict” but in reality, it’s all because he cares about you and worries for you. would definitely cave in to baby you if that’s what you want but for the most part, he’ll show that he’s worried and will reprimand you if it was something avoidable as simple as reaching for a stool or calling him for help instead. he wants to make it very, very clear to you because this overthinking sweet bean will keep thinking of different ways this could’ve turned out for the worst. so he’ll be thorough in imprinting it in your head that he just wants you to be safe. (so for the sake of soobin’s heart, pls)

[🦊] yeonjun you see, when it came to cooking ramen with yeonjun, let’s just say things can get quite… heated. in a sense where the two of you are overly excited to eat the food that it doesn’t quite process your mind that you should be using a cloth to retrieve the pot when the handle isn’t of a heat insulator material. the yelp that rings the kitchen and the harsh slam of the pot back onto the stove is what gets yeonjun’s shoulders to jump.

he quickly turns around from the sink, shaking his hands dry as he approaches you to examine–”what happened?”

you refuse to answer just yet, hurriedly brushing past him to stand where he once stood by the sink. flipping the faucet, putting your hand under the running water and yeonjun pieces everything together from over your shoulder with furrowed brows and a huff.

“i uh–”you remember that you hadn’t answered him”–i kind of… the pot was–so i was–”yeonjun clears his throat to get you to stop talking. you process what’s happening when he switches off the faucet and he lets out the deepest sigh that shakes your bones in anticipation to what he has to say. you swallow the lump in your throat and don’t move at all, until he pulls you by the arm to sit on the nearby chair in the kitchen by the island.

“wait here,” he mutters under his breath, eyes pinned on you to make sure you’re not going to not listen to him. when he confirms you’re listening to him, he frantically searches from cabinet to cabinet. you quietly watch as he goes through his fifty-shades-of-worry before he finally finds what he was looking for with a cooling gel.

he takes the seat next to you, reaching for the wrist of the hand he sees has a mark on your palm. he applies the gel gently, pausing every now and then to make sure you don’t feel the pain that much. once he’s done, he closes the gel bottle and looks at you with a sigh.

“be careful next time, okay? you could’ve hurt yourself much worse if you hadn’t placed it back onto the stove properly.”

“…”

“…”

“…and waste the ramen?”

he makes a sound as he sucks his lips in, brows nearly meeting the center of his forehead at the intensity he’s frowning at you. with a sheepish grin, you nod, “okay, okay. sorry. that wasn’t funny, i know.” 

yeonjun hates how you’re able to smile at him like nothing happened; and he hates how his heart is already swooning at the sight.

“thank you, jun-ah.”

“…clumsy butt,” he huffs under his breath, but you can tell everything has already resume to the way it was before when he kisses the top of your head and goes to retrieve the food for you two to eat.

tl;dr: introducing, mr. i-might-scream-first-but-i’m-actually-chill-about-it because his emotions and expressions can get the best of him first before he tames it to recollect himself knowing his outburst is the last thing you need. will go into his signature “mom” mode to lecture you in a loving way fuelled with affection and cuddles because come back here, you’re not leaving until you listen to everything i say and let me hug you properly and repeat back to me whatever i just said to you.

[🐯] beomgyu beomgyu feels like he should’ve saw it coming but really, he couldn’t have predicted that when you said you kinda knew how to ride a bicycle, it meant–”i-i don’t know how to stop!”

“hah! what a–”his brain processes what you had just said, rather than how you’ve said it (which is screaming at the top of your lungs as you head towards a tree–”wait, what?! baby! press down on the handles in front of your fingers!”

it seems like either the words came out too slow or the adrenaline and panic flushing through your veins blocked out anything going in because one second you’re still on the bicycle, the next, you’ve crashed into a tree and is now on the ground under the shade of the cause of your halting. beomgyu doesn’t process where or what he’s on, immediately hitting the brakes and swiftly kicking the bike stand to leave it aside so he can–”hey hey hey, are you okay?”

you’re laughing. you... are laughing. falling from a bicycle after hitting into a tree, the first thing you do is laugh? that’s it, beomgyu thinks, you’re a goner. amnesia has struck, you’re a lost cause.

“that was–”your laughter gets in the way of speaking, clutching onto your stomach as you sit up with beomgyu’s aid and his eyes are frantically searching all over to see where it might hurt. he cradles you with an arm, the other lightly lingering over your abdomen, “does it hurt here?”

“–absolutely hilarious!” you snicker, shaking your head as you look up to him, “i’m okay, i think it’s just my ankle that’s a little busted,”

“a-ankle?” his eyes widen slightly, now realising he hadn’t noticed–”shit!”

when you’re able to support yourself, he crawls over towards your ankle to examine the reddish mark along your skin. it’s a small patch, but it’s definitely an indicator that–”ah!” you softly exclaim, just as his fingers test the waters by putting a bit of pressure. you watch as he swallows thickly and tells you to stay here, i’ll be right back. before you can call out to him, he’s already dashing towards his discarded bicycle, retrieving a pouch from the basket hooked to his bicycle. he rushes back to you and unzips the pouch, pulling out a tube of cooling gel that–”ooh... that feels nice,”

“yeah?” he glances up to notice the small smile on your face, before looking back down to tending to your minor injury, “that’s good.”

when he’s done rubbing the gel onto the red marks on your skin, he carefully helps you up. he uses a hand to put the strands of your hair back in place, a pout now forming on his lips. “you should’ve told me before we started cycling that you didn’t know how to stop.”

your hands meekly reach for his waist, lightly tugging him closer that naturally, he follows suit without knowing.

“i... i thought i’d be able to remember once i was on the wheel,”

“...that’s bullshit,”

“...not fooling anyone, huh?”

“i’ll teach you next time before we’re anywhere near cycling again until you know how to hit the brakes,” he huffs, shoving the gel back into the pouch before he squints his eyes at you.

“...loud and clear, boss.”

“...”

“...”

“...got it?” he lightly nudges the side of your head, a smile threatening to form when he sees how you grin at him, hands squeezing his waist, already stretching out the smile on his face so effortlessly when you repeat back to him: “got it.”

tl;dr: introducing, mr. everyone-expects-me-to-be-crazy-but-i’m-actually-calm-and-level-headed because sure, he has his loud and crazy moments but when you get hurt or injured, that all flies out of the window and he’ll try to be as rational as possible. he’ll try to be calm, knowing that is the best thing you need but he might slip a couple of jokes here and there to lighten the mood and make you feel better emotionally, not just physically. sweet ol’ beoms will think about your condition and how you feel, and would definitely try to sweeten things up after as a little pick-me-up treat.

[🐿] taehyun it wasn’t an irregular occurrence to cook whenever you were over at the dorm with the boys. sometimes, oftentimes it can be a bit chaotic with how things are in trying to prepare food for six people in one sitting. there’s a sort of system whereby yeonjun’s manning the main fort of cooking with you as his sous chef, taehyun and kai are in charge of the drinks with soobin and beomgyu in the living room setting things up, choosing a show or bickering back and forth (it’s usually a mix of all three chopped up into pieces, really). speaking of chopping, in the midst of you trying to dice the vegetables for yeonjun to pan-fry, a small mishap causes the entire house to grow silent after the initial gasps.

before you can process what had happened, it’s like you’re being steered in autopilot out from the kitchen and is now seated by the dining table with what seems to be a mini first aid kit by your side. the atmosphere has gone quiet, but in reality, it’s yeonjun and soobin trying to take over the situation by letting taehyun tend to you, while they tend to the rest of the kids.

“does it hurt?” taehyun asks, voice softly echoing into your ears as your eyes fixate on how gentle yet swift his movements are to tend to the cut on your finger. you shrug, “it’s a bit of a sting but–son of a bitch,” the words take over just as you feel the sharp-like needle pain penetrating your nerves. taehyun’s eyes widen with worry but you can tell he’s trying to keep his cool, quickly picking up the pace so the pain doesn’t drag out longer than it should.

within a couple of minutes, and discarded scraps later, your cut is secure with a pink-yellow-bear-heart bandage that makes you chuckle at the sight of it, that gets taehyun’s attention when he carefully cradles your hand, gauging your reaction of how you’re feeling. “this is cute,” you wiggle your finger around, eliciting a chuckle from him. “yeah, huening went crazy when he saw them for sale and bought a ton to stock up in our first aid kit,”

“it’s adorable!” you hear an echo bellow from the kitchen, to which the both of you promptly brush over with a quiet laugh.

“you okay?” taehyun’s voice directs your attention back on him, and the way his thumb gently caresses the back of your hand makes you smile. “yeah, i’m okay. thank you, for asking and for tending to my battle wounds,”

he snorts, “battle wounds my ass,”

“...that is a nice ass,”

there’s a small pause of silence before the two of you burst into laughter. the kind that reassures taehyun that you’re doing okay, the kind that goes easy on your nerves and lifts the tension in the room. when the hilarity subsides, taehyun jolts a little at the way you grip onto his hand to pull it to your lips, planting a soft kiss to the back of his hand that makes his heart melt on the spot.

“thank you, tae.”

he returns the gesture by lightly tugging your hand towards his direction, where he’s able to press a kiss to the back of your hand, “you’re welcome.”

tl;dr: introducing, mr. calm-and-collected-but-might-be-stunned-the-first-few-seconds. while i know everyone sees taehyun as the most rational and level-headed one (which i do too!) but i think he might get stunned the initial first ten seconds before he processes what he should do and does just that. once he’s past that stage of realising what happened, mr. robot is on the way with caring and tending to your needs 101% and no less! though, after things ease out and everything is better, he might be that nagging aunt that pokes at you to be more careful every now and then (but it’s all in good intention just so you’re safe and careful always) in kang taehyun we stan

[🐧] kai it wasn’t out of the ordinary for you to change in the bedroom, despite kai curled up in bed, scrolling on his phone with his attention on you when you begin changing. it makes you a bit giddy, tossing your shirt at his face that he peels off with a snort. the lighthearted atmosphere fades when you notice kai’s smile fading as he stares at a spot on your body. it makes you self-conscious that you look down on yourself; dressed in an oversized shirt and a pair of cotton shorts.

“what?” you try to shake it off, trying to back away when he sits up towards you but his hand already catches your hand to tug you closer gently.

“did you hurt yourself?” he asks, brows furrowed as he continues to stare but you have absolutely no idea what this boy is on about. you attempt to muster up a reply but–”there’s a bruise here,” kai points out, finger hovering over a spot at the side of your thigh which takes quite an effort for you to crane your neck for a peek.

“oh,” you sound surprised (because you are), “i had no idea,”

you turn the cheek to look back at your boyfriend, who seems to have checked out of the conversation for what feels like a minute, before he’s pushing the blanket off and muttering a soft stay here as he scurries up and out the bedroom. you remain standing there, half-debating if you want to go after him but just as you turn around to head towards the bedroom door, it swings open to reveal the entirety of kai trudging in and making you sit on the bed.

with a soft oof, you do as you’re directed, watching as kai grabs an ointment cream and begins rubbing it gently on your bruise. the pain is minuscule, it stings just a little but it’s nothing you can’t handle. you have your hands on your lap, fiddling with your fingers as you watch him fixate on helping you ease the bruise away with plenty of effort. when it feels like it’s enough, he puts the ointment cream aside and peeks up to your face to see you already smiling at him. despite how pretty you looked, he remembers that he’s supposed to–“how could you not notice that bruise right on your thigh?”

you chuckle, shaking your head as you gently ease your hands onto his shoulders, somehow easing the muscles that tense along the expanse of his back, “...i mean... you out of all people can’t call me out on that when you were blind to your own bruises,”

he takes a deep intake of air and exhales calmly, using a hand to curl around your waist as he looks up to you, “...okay, that’s fair.”

there’s this shared moment of tranquility; one that reassures you that kai’s reliable to take care of you and one that reassures him that it’s the same for him, too.

"just be careful, okay?” kai says, lightly pinching your hip.

“as long as you be careful, too.”

he holds up his pinky finger, “promise,”

almost too easily, your pinky locks with his, “promise.”

tl;dr: introducing, mr. i-might-look-clueless-but-i-kinda-know-what-i’m-doing-but-am-i-doing-it-right? while i think it is possible for kai to be that clueless boy who might have zero idea on what to do, i do see it as a “short-circuit moment” that he’d need to recollect himself before he springs into action and does it well. if not, he’ll definitely be up for pointers on how he can improve and do better and overall, kai’s just a precious sweetheart who would want to take care of you at all times (even if he doesn’t know how to at times).

[yesimwriting]

Sick Day

Set in the Final Girl universe, but it is a stand alone fic that can easily be read with no context :)

Summary: Billy and Stu don’t get why they’re so antsy about the latest addition to their friend group being absent from school. Sure, they talk about her more than they talk about anyone else, but not seeing her for one day isn’t enough to justify panic, right? Guess that doesn’t matter, because they find a way to justify checking in anyways.

a/n if you haven’t read final girl and this makes you curious,, the main fic and extras can be found here: Final Girl Series 

fun fact, this is chronologically set at some point after ‘first impressions’ but before the main series, if you haven’t read either that’s fine, it’ll still make sense, i just like building “lore” lol 

also if there are any typos i’m sorry, i’m stuck wearing a wrist brace for a little while, especially while writing

also this was really fun to write so i might do some more mini fics in the final girl universe in between full chapters, it’s more low stakes and is a good way for me to work on adding to their dynamics,, so if you have any ideas/requests for final girl universe specific stuff pls feel free to ask! 

----

It didn’t take Billy long to realize that part of your appeal comes from the fact that you’re not as predictable as everyone else. Maybe it’s because you’re still new, but that’s easy in Woodsboro, where lifelong friendships are practically assigned by the locker you’re given on your first d of middle school.

You’re also a contradiction. Almost everything you’re feeling is visible on your face, but what you’re thinking isn’t as easy to guess. It balances you out, keeping you from being unknown enough to be threatening but still letting you pop enough to keep you from blurring into the background. 

That’s part of the reason he picked up on your routine so quickly. What he knows about you isn’t as concrete as what he has on the people that are a part of his plan, but he knows enough. More than he intended to. He memorized your classes without meaning to and knows the time you get to school and the approximate time you leave. It’s useful, he tells himself, you’re around Sidney and Tatum all the time and him and Stu are still working on fitting you into the plan.

Sure, they’ve decided that you fit as their potential final girl, but it’s rocky. You bring out something panicky in him and some days it’s too much to be around you and know you have the ability to affect him. It’s not the same, not at all, but Billy can’t help the way it reminds him of what his mom’s distance used to make him feel. At risk. And Billy knows Stu, knows that he probably thinks about you twice as much as he brings you up and that there’s such a thing as Stu liking someone too much. 

When there’s uncertainty, it’s easy to fall back on routine, and you stick to a relatively simple one. You get to school riding close to late more often than not, during your study hall you tend to study outside unless Randy doesn’t use it as an excuse to leave early, then you bother him in the library (something Billy doesn’t get), and you take a little longer at your locker at the end of the day. Billy also knows you’re not one to skip. 

You’re never not at school (which may or may not have lead to an increase in the regularity of Stu and Billy’s attendance). You’re too hyper focused on your grades to not show up without a reason. So when Billy passes by your locker right before the home room bell rings and you’re not there it’s weird.

Billy knows you really must not be here when his eyes land on Stu, who’s staring at your locker. Stu walks you to most of your classes and always walks you to homeroom. 

“She’s not here,” Billy summarizes flatly. 

Stu turns his head, a little unsure. “Or she went to class without me.” 

The jab would be subtle to anyone else, but Billy knows what Stu’s getting at. “She’d still be at her locker, she’s always running late in the morning.” Billy focuses on hearing his words, tries to feel them. “We can check her homeroom.” 

A casual enough suggestion. Still not overly concerned. Stu has to walk past your classroom to get to his anyways and Billy takes that route sometimes. With that justification, the two walk down the hall and peak through the door’s long window as un-notably as possible. You’re not in your usual spot, at the desk right behind Casey Becker, who you talk to from time to time (a potential future problem they’re both aware of).

By lunch, it’s confirmed that you never showed up. You’re not in the first period you have with Stu or the third period you have with Sidney and Billy. Tatum brings it up first. Where’s Y/n? Sidney shrugged and mumbled about how you weren’t in second period today. It only took a minute for the girls and Randy to brush over your absence with a simple she must be sick. 

That got under Billy’s skin a little and he couldn’t figure out why. You’re almost weirdly into the whole school thing--everyone here could likely list your top 3 colleges--and stubborn. Even if you’re only absent because you’re sick, you must be pretty knocked out to not be here. But why should he care about you being really sick or your friends being relatively dismissive? 

“Isn’t she a little...Annie Wilkes about school?” Stu’s question comes out casually enough.

Randy looks up, “She’s not that bad.”

Stu blinks, forcing himself to stay in the moment. Randy was quick to defend you even though Stu’s seen him call you worse to your face. Maybe that back and forth is a sad attempt at flirting. “Easy, no one’s saying anything bad about your girlfriend.” 

“She’s not my girlfriend.” 

“Knock it off, Stu, they’re basically related,” Billy forces the words out as casually as he can manage.

Sidney picks up on the joke, mumbling some comment about how they do sort of act like siblings, which gets Tatum off on some tangent about her brother. The conversation doesn’t circle back to the person that’s missing.

In the english class you share with Billy and Stu, the teacher hands back an old essay and gives out a homework packet. The two of them exchange a look. That’s a good enough excuse to stop by your house...if they...wanted to, which they don’t because it’s not like your absence is that relevant.

Billy talks to the teacher after class anyways, saying that he could make sure you get the graded essay and homework. You’re friendly enough that he’s sure he’ll be able to get it to you before you come to class and it’s never a bad idea to have options. Stu doesn’t say anything when Billy gets the papers and neatly places them in a folder. 

----

There’s all this energy and there’s no real outlet for it. Stu doesn’t know what it is, he can’t tell what he wants to do with it or what’d make it feel better. He’s felt versions of it all day, having it drop and morph into an off-brand version of that dark, craving feeling he gets at the thought of feeling a knife plunge into someone and rise back up to an antsy-ness that’d better fit a kid in line for a ride at a theme park.

The energy reaches its peak on the front steps of your porch, but the feeling doesn’t settle on a particular charge. It remains focused on the more positive side of the spectrum, but it’s undercut by some of the urgency of the other urge. 

He had been the first one to bring it up after school, when Billy and him were finally alone. It had started relatively detached, things are still weird when they mention you outside of certain contexts. They’re so used to being open about other things that the fact that they’re both almost shy about something--someone--is twisting. It’s a feeling they’re still learning to take in larger doses. 

They had spent a little too long trying to find an angle to justify a pop in to themselves. It’s one thing to think about you, to talk about you, to like you even. But it’s something else entirely to openly care. To worry about why you’re missing school or if you’re sick. 

Eventually, want won and Billy finally said something that stuck. She can’t be a final girl if she’s dying, and we need her to trust us, to like us. 

This is stupid. A flaring feeling in Billy’s chest has been yelling at him to stop since the idea first formed his mind. It’s a distorted echo of his father’s voice. 

Billy swallows once, forcing himself to finally knock. The only thing more pathetic than what he’s doing is lingering, coming here and then turning back. 

The seconds pass and with each of them, they both feel worse about their decision. And then they hear the lock click and the front door opens and they see you. 

You look more tired than usual and the blanket that’s practically swallowing you whole makes you seem smaller, more vulnerable even though you’re more covered than usual. You squint at the sunlight in a way that makes them think you’ve spent the day in intentionally dimly lit spaces. It takes you a second, but once you finally register them, it’s visible. You’re grinning, practically beaming. 

Billy feels the reaction in his chest. It strains uneasily beneath his ribs, not much unlike what he imagines a heart palpitation could feel like. He briefly thinks he might be able to hold the discomfort against you, but even that thought mostly fades. 

Stu’s flooded with the strange desire to wrap you up in bundles of blankets the way that his mom used to when he was younger. The few times it happened, it was weirdly comforting. He can’t remember the last time she took the time to make sure he was warm until his fever broke, but he knows his dad put a stop to it at an early age. Too needy, too dependent.

“Hi?” It’s partially a question, and your voice hints at raspiness. 

Snapping back into reality, Billy answers, “You weren’t at school.” Your eyebrows draw together and Billy realizes that that wasn’t the easy reaction he thought it’d be. It’s too open and implies concern. 

“Yeah, I kinda have a cold-fever-something. It’s a bug my mom brought home from work. I thought she was being dramatic, but it totally knocked me out.” You lean against your front door. If you sense either of their conflicts, you give no indication of it. “Karma, I guess.” 

Stu lets out a laugh at that. “Karma? You were that mean?” 

Your lips pull into an almost-smile. “The universe seemed to think so.” 

“You think the universe gave you a punishment cold, but your mom’s the dramatic one?” Stu’s biting down a grin, all concerns about showing up melting. 

You glare halfheartedly, “You can’t be not-on-my-side when I’m sick. That’s like...against friend...rules.” Your eyebrows draw together. “That was--that was really lame, forget I said that.” 

The reaction is so warm and you’re doing your best even though you’re clearly still not feeling well and Billy feels an awful swell of what’s likely fondness. “Not sure I want to.” 

Rolling your eyes, you relax even more of your weight against the doorframe. The shift is small, but Billy can’t help but note it. Are you just being casual or are you that tired? “You’re both here to cause problems.” 

“We’re here to be nice.” The look on your face says you might be a little out of it but you haven’t lost IQ points. “We got our essays back and some homework. Billy picked up yours and I drove him to school, and because one day felt way too long to go without seeing you...”

Your laugh is punctuated by a brief cough you burry into your elbow. It’s not like you’re coughing up a lung, but it is a little concerning. “You guys grabbed my stuff?” 

The genuine surprise in your voice sticks out. “Yeah,” Billy slides his backpack off of his shoulders and starts unzipping it, “One of those friend rules.” 

Billy finds his folder as you roll your eyes. “Funny.” 

“It’s what I’m known for,” he keeps his voice flat, and the sarcasm feels a little off, but you smile and that makes it a little easier.

He hands you the papers, his fingertips brushing against yours. “I see why.” 

“I never get that many gold stars.” Stu leans forward, re-reading some of the notes scribbled on next to your grade. “Maybe you should invite me over, tutor me...”

Your nose wrinkles. “Shut up.” By now they’ve learned that that’s the closest you’ll come to retreating.

Stu exaggerates a frown, “What? Bringing you your stuff doesn’t get us invited in?” 

The redirect is a bit of a stretch, but you’re used to the jumps and you’re tired enough to not read much into it. Not as much as Billy does, who’s a little surprised because he and Stu never talked about what they’d do after. He decides that it’s harmless enough. 

Turning your head a little, it almost feels like a part of you forgot there was anything to be invited into. “I don’t want to get you guys sick.” 

It’s such a you response. Always considerate, polite. Billy looks past you and into the house. There’s no noise indicating that anyone’s in there, but that doesn’t necessarily mean you’re alone. Though the one time he came over to work on a project, he briefly met your mother and was given the impression that she likes making her presence alone. There’s also your mother’s boyfriend, who wasn’t around when Billy came over but based on your comments, he’s not sure being alone with him isn’t worse than being alone. 

“Are you okay?” The question comes out of Billy a little unexpectedly. “You don’t look too...” 

You glare. “Thanks.”

“Not like--” Billy cuts himself off with a sigh. Your eyebrows pinch together briefly. “You look too sick to be alone. At least say your mom’s here.” 

Billy takes in the details of your reaction even though he already has a good idea on what you lying looks like. Harmless, white lies often used to seem more okay with things than you actually are. He sees something similar in the way your chin tilts upwards slightly. “I’m fine.” 

That’s all the confirmation Billy needs. You’re definitely alone. The lack of lie and attempt at dismissal is oddly endearing, especially while you’re like this, leaning against the front door and squeezing your blanket a little tighter. Wait--are you colder? It’s warm out today and there’s not even a breeze. 

A half thought embeds itself beneath Billy’s skin. He gives in, extending an arm slowly. You’re just as confused until Billy’s turning his hand so that the back of his palm is facing you. “I’m--Billy, it’s--” 

The cutoff of your words is sudden, your lips still partially parted, some other jumble of words dying in the back of your throat as Billy’s hand meets your forehead. You don’t move away. It’s been a few seconds, definitely long enough for Billy to have deduced whether or not you have a fever. How did his mom use to do this? 

He takes his time dropping his arm back to his side. Billy doesn’t have too many references to what a fever feels like on someone else, but you did feel warm. “You have a fever.” 

You press your lips together briefly in a forced pout. “You’re worse than my mom.” The blanket is slipping off of your shoulders, you tug it back up. “I’ll take some Tylenol, find a jar of vapor rub.” Angling your head to glance behind you again, you’re returning to that awkward uncertainty. 

The small dismissal digs at them both. It’s bad enough that they let themselves get to this point over one absence and here you are, alone and unwell and completely okay with sending them away. “You sure you’re good here?” 

This time you’re considering it. The proof of the deliberation is there in your silence. More often than not it takes you two or three offers to accept anything you think is an inconvenience. You’re nice to a point of fault. “I’m okay, because no one dies of fever, but if hanging out for a little and seeing absolutely nothing happen to me makes you guys feel better, that’d be cool. But you need to be careful.”

Stu grins, “I thought no one dies of a fever.” 

You take a step back, offering some space for them to pass, “I hope you get this, I think you could use a karma cold.” 

“Now I see why you have one,” Stu mumbles, pretending to be more annoyed than he feels as he steps into your house as you turn your head to stick your tongue out at him. 

Billy follows, lingering in your doorway before shutting your front door. You’re approaching the kitchen, turning your head to look Billy in the eye, “What do you think? Stu deserve one?” 

He briefly pretends to debate, “Worse.” 

You laugh at the irritated sound Stu lets out at the back of his throat. “Do you guys want anything?” They swear they’re fine as you pour yourself a glass of water and use it to down two tylonel tablets. “If my mom gets back from work and thinks I haven’t offered you guys anything to eat or drink, I’m not hearing the end of it.” 

“We’ll defend you.” Stu rests his weight against the kitchen counter, noting the bottle of cough syrup still out. “You need this?” 

You shake your head immediately. “I took some earlier and still feel foggy. I slept most of today.” 

Stu runs his thumb over the white cap, watching it spin without coming off. He considers pushing. Billy changes the subject before Stu has fully made up his mind, “You would be the type to have the most boring sick day.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You’re offended, and it’s oddly soft. “I didn’t just sleep.” 

Billy’s amused enough to press, “What else did you do?” 

“I think I know...” There’s a smugness in Stu’s voice that instantly floods you with embarrassment. Oh no. He’s found them. You snap your head up in time to see Stu holding up some of the tapes you left stacked on the counter. “Beverly Hills 90210, the first four seasons.” 

Billy looks right past you and focuses on Stu. “Only four?” 

“Uh--” You’re caught. “Five’s on right now...and I don’t have a copy of six.” They’re both too quiet, fighting the urge to burst into laughter. “Don’t judge. Trashy teen soaps are popular for a reason.” 

“What about artistic integrity?” 

You dismiss Billy’s question with a scoff that’s a hint too raspy. “Cheap writing in Hollywood isn’t my fault.” 

Instead of returning with another joke (maybe some comment about what Randy would say if he ever found out), Billy pushes himself off of the wall he was leaning against and approaches your refrigerator. 

Billy knows he’s at least heard of the usual home remedies, but he can’t quite place them. Won’t place them because the only person that ever worried about these kinds of things isn’t someone Billy’s willing to think about right now. 

Starve a fever or maybe that’s colds. There’s also...electrolytes? And hydration. That’s probably the best idea. Why does it matter? That thought bothers him, digs under his skin and settles at a wrong angle. He’s seen you. You’re alive, unscathed, and relatively fine. It’s not like any of the bad thoughts were proven right--you weren’t skipping for some other person or leaving.

But you’re uncomfortable. And alone. And vulnerable. Billy hates it. Hates that his awareness of your feelings is lodging itself in his mind and that he can’t really help and that it matters. He’s not sure he remembers the last time anyone besides Stu’s feelings actually mattered. Maybe Sidney’s did once, awhile ago, but that--that didn’t feel nearly as urgent as this.

“You okay?” Your voice snaps him back to the moment, to the glass of water he was getting. “You’re kind of staring at that glass like it knows something it shouldn’t.” 

You drop your voice a little, chin tilting down as you try to be funny. The humor is real enough that Billy doesn’t feel overly pushed, but he does note the thinly veiled genuineness in your words. That’s another thing about you. You say things and you mean them. Even if it’s completely casual, even if it’s a sentiment you’ll forget about immediately until it comes up again. You mean it. 

Billy sets the freshly filled glass on the counter, “Drink more water, your voice sounds like it could be used by a horror movie villain.” 

You frown like Billy’s offended you beyond repair. Just as he thinks you might protest, you pick up the glass and down a fair amount in a few gulps. “Happy?” 

“Oh, he’s thrilled,” Stu hums, “That’s what he looks like when he’s happy.” 

“I think I believe you.” Billy waits until your attention is fully on Stu before letting himself give in and smile a little. 

Stu takes a step towards you, “I’d never lie to you, baby.” He ignores the slight face you make at the nickname. Being sick must make you more irritable because you’ve let much more creative nicknames slide. Stu cups your face between his hands before you can protest. You don’t move or try to shake him off. He takes a second to exaggeratedly feel your skin. “You’re as hot as you look and that’s saying something.” 

“I’m wearing Christmas pajama pants that I got in 8th grade and I spent half the morning on the bathroom floor. No one could find this look attractive.” Stu half shrugs, protests already building, but you snap back to reality before he can get them out. “And if I’m that hot,” you step back, using your hands to pry him off of you, “You shouldn’t be touching me.”

He takes a step towards you. “My immune system’s strong.” Stu briefly flexes an arm, “You think all this could be supported by a weak one?” 

You half smile, giving Stu the opportunity he needs to place his hands on the soft blanket still on your shoulder’s. Again, he’s pleasantly surprised when you don’t brush him off. “You’re gonna get sick.”

Stu rubs a hand up and down your left shoulder, hoping the gesture comes off as light and comforting. “I’ll be fine.” 

Nothing about Stu has given you the indication that he’d be a tolerable sick person. Also, a small part of you is worried a cold like this could really take him out. He rarely dresses warm enough and you’ve seen the amount of energy drinks he’s willing to consume on one day. You’re also not sure you’ve ever seen him eat anything with significant nutritional value. “Every day I find out you’ve managed to keep yourself alive, I’m pleasantly surprised.” 

He squeezes your shoulder. “You’re cranky when you’re sick.” 

“At least she said pleasantly.” 

Stu looks past you to throw a dirty look in Billy’s direction. “Aw, he’s jealous of what we have.” 

Okay--you might be drowsy but you know where the play fighting over you goes. It starts off lighthearted enough, but if you’re not careful it can end kind of sour. One second everyone’s joking and the next Stu’s actually pushing you to pick a side on something that should be harmless but feels heavy. Sometimes Billy gets a little more involved than you think he wants to seem and it never feels fully about you. It’s like half of what they say means something else to them. 

“Okay, no fighting over me,” you shrug Stu off as best you can without losing your blanket, “I belong to this blanket and the couch.” 

You grab your cup of water off the counter and start walking to the living room without checking if they’re following. You hear their footsteps, but pay little mind to that as you settle on the couch and set your glass on the coffee table. 

Billy sits down next to you. “Couch and not your room?” 

Reluctantly sighing, you drop your head back, letting your neck rest at an awkward angle. "I live here now.” 

He can’t tell how much of that is a joke. Are you feeling that sick? “Right.” 

Your attention briefly flickers to the TV, the cliche teen drama that’s still playing being enough to suck you back in even though you’ve missed some context. To him it just looks like overly pretty-ed people overreacting. The scene ends and you return to the present enough to shrug off your blanket and settle the fabric more comfortably on your lap. “You guys can change the tape if you want.” 

A small mercy. Billy stands and begins looking at the tapes stacked on a shelf near the TV. It’s a fair collection, but the movies he saw in your room the time he came over to work on a project were better. He picks the first title that feels decent enough for background that doesn’t seem like too much just in case you’re prone to nausea. 

You’re patiently waiting for the tapes to switch out. Stu’s being quiet, which would have clued you in on a better rested, less sick day. You don’t realize he’s planning anything until you feel the side of your blanket being tugged on. “Stu.”

He scoots closer, “It’s cold.” 

Stu stretches his legs, weaseling himself under your blanket. You weakly try to push him out “There’s another blanket over there.” He ignores you, adjusting so that your legs overlap. “You’re going to get sick.” 

“Your pants are soft,” it’s said so softly, like a kid getting clothes fresh from the laundry.  You’re not sure you have it in you to ruin his good mood. He stretches a foot past your knee and a few inches up your thigh before relaxing back into place. “Fuzzy.”

Despite what you’re wearing, you can feel the comfortable warmth radiating off of him, turning the space beneath the blanket into a space heater. “You’re like a radiator.” 

“I’ll keep you warm an--” 

“Don’t ruin it.”

He frowns, mumbling something about you being “no fun” before sinking further into the couch. You pull more of the blanket onto you and Stu’s hit with the realization that you might not be warm enough. “You want another blanket?” 

You’re clearly surprised by the question. “Uh--no, I think I’m--” 

Stu pushes himself so that his legs are almost off your lap in order to reach the fabric draped over an armchair. He moves back into place and makes a point of draping the blanket over you. “Warmer?” 

“Yeah,” the admission is hesitant.

That is so like you, needing a little push to accept what you need. “Told ya.” 

He must be right because you don’t say anything else. Silence is usually your way of being reluctantly wrong. Stu takes his victory as an excuse to move a little closer. 

Billy sits back down, settling a little closer to the side of the couch. He’s not exactly jealous of how open Stu is. Distance is a good thing, a smart thing. But he does--

A weight on his shoulder. It takes less than a second for realization to wash over him. You’re relaxed, head resting on his upper arm. The room feels a little snugger but it’s not an uncomfortable change. 

The opening credits of the movie are rolling off screen and your eyes are focused on that. “Not to make this weird or lame,” you pause, sniffling slightly as you breathe, “But you guys are kind of nice, sometimes.” 

That has to be a sign of you being tired. Billy fights down a smile. “Sometimes?”

Stu turns his leg to tap your knee, “I think we deserve a little more than that.” 

You move your hand under the blanket to halfheartedly flick his leg. After that, your hand relaxes and rests there. “Fine. Most of the time.” 

[l0verb0t]

dick grayson × gn reader. | breakfast date.

SUMMARY: a fic about taking dick out to a cafe early in the morning. WARNINGs: minor physical contact, && food. WORD COUNT: 2100+ NOTEs: second person && no plot. this insert is more of a blunt, concerned type. [gentlemen && guy, and no pronouns used to refer to the insert/reader.]

His back hurts, it's still cold as hell, and he's pretty sure he sprained something after last night, but at least he could deal with walking with you to a cafe, pain aside. Luckily, you didn't ask about how slow he was being. He's always able to catch up fast enough.

You knew well about the cold problem, though, because Dick keeps complaining about it.

Shame on you for asking him if he wanted to get breakfast in the morning, apparently.

Another night out left him tending to his bruises until the early sunrise. He made up for the lack of rest by passing out in it for a good few hours until the ringing from his phone finally woke him up to the bright light beaming through his curtains.

He spent a good amount of time groaning in his sheets as he let the pain settle in until he got used to it.

Some greetings were thrown back and forth, and then you went on talking about some cafe. It was close enough, and it sounded nice based on your experience. He just had to keep himself from falling back into unconsciousness as he listened, trying to give a hum every time you asked something.

But it's not like you knew. You know who he is; he just doesn't talk much about his outings. The concern gets in the way sometimes, crowds his thoughts.

Instead of saying anything about it, he's busy talking about the weather instead. He knows it might come up.

He knew what he was getting himself into, too. He didn't force himself to come; he just wanted to spend an afternoon with you. It beats sleeping in all day again.

That, and you offered to pay the bill. Apparently, it's cheap enough and has a breakfast section.

The weather is nice in Blüdhaven for a change, with a simple snowstorm overhead that's been going on for nearly a week. Highlights along the streets that the two of you pass by.

Despite how hard he's shivering, he manages to call out to you. "Do you think it's going to get worse?"

He nearly doesn't hear you through the rubbing of fabrics; he hears about everyone else on the crowded walkways, almost bumping into someone at every turn as he follows you.

"What is?"

"The snow." He puts his focus ahead rather than making sure he doesn't trip, and he sees you scrolling through something on your phone. "Barely been a few days, and it's up to my boots."

He takes the chance to get up closer. "I think I preferred when it was just cold."

"It's not that bad."

You walk up ahead of him, and he jogs immediately after.

Dick keeps his head down so he doesn't have to deal with the snow pelting him in the face. So he doesn't lose you in a crowd, he follows your shoes and just hopes he doesn't bump into anyone else on the way there. Your hand is right there, but he stops himself from doing anything.

He just rambles on to distract himself. "Speak for yourself. I'm going to freeze in a couple minutes."

"Drama king." Your phone gets shoved back into your pocket. "Just live for a little while longer; we're almost there."

He knows you can't see it, but he still smiles at you.

He copies you and stuffs his hands into his jacket. The cold only serves to irritate the bruised skin along the knuckles. You're going to see them eventually; he ran out of bandages.

And you were right; it wasn't far.

It took around half an hour walking through a mini-snowstorm to get to the place. Dick brings himself to look up for a moment, catching something along the lines of, "Coffee and Co." on the sign along the front before he's getting pulled along inside by his sleeve.

The door is kept open for him, and he mutters something about you being a gentleman, but he can't bring himself to talk too loud as he gets hit in the face with a cold breeze.

Dick follows you in without complaint, letting you pull at it to the point where that one arm is back outside the jacket. Immediately, he rubs his nose with the sleeve. He makes a mental note to order something warm, just so he doesn't risk having to go out while sick again.

He drags his shoes against the rug at the entrance and then looks around at the dark and dim tones carrying along the interior. It's a nice change of pace from the bright white piling up outside.

Even the lamps above are a much softer yellow, but that doesn't matter much as the light blaring out through the windows covers every corner throughout the cafe.

People are strewn about, taking up most of the seating, that the only few tables left are all the way in the back. At least he can drape himself along the cushioned chairs.

Dick gets patted on the back and can only bring himself to laugh off the gentle contact before he pushes himself further in.

He's taken to a table, and he pulls out a chair for himself.

And then he's staring right back at you, and now he feels like he walked all the way here just to look like a mess.

He doesn't know what to call the two of you, just that whatever it is, he still wants to look nice for you.

Instead, he was too tired earlier to care. When it came time to meet up with you, he ran around his apartment, picking off his suit to switch with anything he could find that seemed presentable enough. He doesn't remember if he even brushed his teeth, so he keeps his mouth shut as he smiles back.

With a small table between the two of you, he's seated right across. He tries to keep to his side as he props his arms along the rim, leaning against it. There isn't too much space, as a good half of it is covered in stands and condiments.

"This place looks nice, right?"

He can't help but stare at you as he mutters back. "Very pretty."

You flip through one of the stands on the back and take out two menus. One gets placed right over his arms, opened so he can look through the first two pages. They're both lists of the different kinds of beverages they have.

He barely skims through them before picking off something that has caffeine.

It probably won't be enough to help him through the rest of the day, but maybe your little hangout will end before that, and he can just crash on his couch for the rest of it.

You have to snap him out of it a couple times, slowly pulling him out of the exhaustion crowding his head, and he can barely tell you what he wants.

"Is that it?"

He nods, and instantly he's told, "You need something to eat, Dick."

He has to push himself up from his position just so he can flip through the menu just as quickly as before. He doesn't know if he can stomach much, so he goes with a couple muffins and scrambled eggs just so you won't pick up on anything. It's enough, he thinks.

You push yourself back from the table, and your chair screeches against the floor for a moment.

And he takes the moment to rub his eyes. It doesn't matter that he can hear almost everyone from where he's sitting; he's slept through worse.

He watches as you head over to the counter. No one was in line, so you went right onto the orders to a cashier standing at it.

After everything was accounted for, he was about to open his wallet and get up before he saw you open yours first.

Right, something about paying.

When you sit back down, silence overtakes your guys' space again. It just makes Dick uncomfortable, despite the atmosphere.

He drags a hand down his face to keep himself from trailing off again, and he takes the plunge to try and make conversation, quiet as he talks.

"So." His fingers begin tapping against the wood in a repetitive pattern as he draws out the silence. "How's life been treating you?"

"Good."

"Great." His head nearly hits the table as he lets it drop while he's left to fill the silence again.

It feels like a mercy when you do it instead. "Are you okay?"

He rests his head against a hand as he props up an elbow on the table, staring back at you all the while. Nothing intelligible comes out on the first try, so he shuts his mouth real quick before trying again.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Well—could be better." He takes in a deep breath and holds back a sigh. "But I'm fine."

"You look tired."

He almost regrets even trying to start up a conversation, but it wasn't like you wouldn't pick up on it eventually. You didn't need to be a detective.

"Yeah, you know work."

He knows you're staring at him still, even after he's turned away to look at the table. At the very least, he's slowly becoming conscious enough that he isn't toppling over anymore.

"You're allowed to have a life outside of work."

"I know." With his free hand, he gestures back to you. "I'm trying to. Right here."

It's not a lie. He doesn't think so; everything's just muddled.

Your voice doesn't help with it. It's probably one of the nicer things he's heard all week, even if it doesn't have much competition with the insults and yelling and screaming he's been getting from people while on the clock.

"You're not hurt or anything, are you?"

"No—" He takes in a sharp breath through his clenched jaw. "Yes. It's not that bad, though. Don't worry about it."

He interrupts you the second your mouth opens again.

"I promise."

"Could we get you checked out at a doctor later? Just in case." And before he can protest, you interrupt him just the same. "You—Blüdhaven needs you. At least through it, you can find out if you have a sprain or something, and be wary of that while going out."

He knows what you're trying to do, but he relents anyway.

"Okay. We can—can do it after this."

He smiles back to try and distance the conversation from the concern. The silence just makes him want to pass out until breakfast comes in even more.

"So," He groans, looking away as he tries to play into the awkwardness. "That weather, am I right?"

"Yeah, that weather." Before Dick can excuse himself to the restroom and wait it out there, he turns back to you when he hears a snort.

He shuts his eyes and leans into his hand more, muffling his own voice. "You're really not giving me much to work with here."

"Sorry." He's about to bring up the checkup when you continue. "You know I care about you, right?"

He doesn't even have to force the smile this time. "I know."

He can't bring himself to look back at you, though, and instead takes a deep breath before leaning back into his chair.

"I just want you to be okay."

"I'll try to be—"

A voice at the counter calls out for someone, an unfamiliar name. When Dick turns over to look, he sees a guy running up to grab a paper bag with the cafe's name on the front of it.

He watches them leave, just for your name to be called out right after, finding two plates on a tray.

He lets you get up to grab it. It's not like he's going to let you watch him limp over there.

One of the plates is immediately slid right over to him, his drink in some sort of plastic container.

Without waiting, he gives a quick, "Thank you."

And then he grabs a fork to stuff some of the food into his mouth. It burns for a second, so he just lets it settle as he chews slowly.

"You're welcome."

He uses the breakfast as an excuse to keep his gaze from yours, stress slowly overcoming the feeling of his stomach eating itself. He tries to push it down with another large spoonful while he grabs the ketchup.

The lid is popped open, and he holds it over the eggs. It barely misses the rest of his food as a ton plops down instantly.

"Great." Without more of a complaint, he stabs his fork into it.

He grabs his drink and tries to swallow down the taste of tomatoes, but nothing comes out.

He looks over the table and sees how you're actually drinking yours, and now he's thinking about how he's going to ask you how you opened the lid without sounding like an idiot.

Until then. "Is yours any good?"

"It's as sweet as you."

His smile grows wider as he makes sure not to laugh at you just for being sweet. Instead, he places a hand over one of yours.

"Ew."

[waterfire1848]

Azutara #36 please

Hello, anon!! Thanks for the ask!

#36 - living in a society where their love is taboo AU

Thanks to @ragzonacamrencruise for helping me come up with a taboo idea for this mini fic.

Opposite elements didn’t mix.

It was a simple rule and one that had been around since before anyone could remember. Fire and Water didn’t mix and earth and air didn’t mix. Because of this, it was frowned upon, illegal in some areas, for those belonging to opposite elements to be in a relationship together. Some limited their views to only benders, but others were very vocal about their believe that if someone was born in the Earth Kingdom they should have no romantic relation with someone in from the Air Temples.

Fire Lords before Zuko all seemed to share this belief as well, advocating that no one in the Fire Nation should have any partner from the Water Tribe. Zuko had never cared much about the law, seeing as how his partner was from the Fire Nation, and he assumed Azula didn’t care either.

Yeah. He was wrong about that one. Zuko just wished he didn’t have to find out by accidentally seeing his sister and friend meeting up in secret in the garden.

It wasn’t uncommon for Zuko to move around the palace on the roofs. Sue him. He liked having the small bit of time to himself and to move freely instead of having at least five guards around him and two servants by his side. Those quiet and beautiful nights were some of the most peaceful moments he got. Then, one night, he heard Azula’s voice and, naturally, made his way towards her to see what she was doing out so late.

“If you keep talking you’re going to get us discovered.” Azula warned.

“Says the one who’s talking right now.” Another voice, a woman, added, laughing a little, “You’re sure no one is around?”

“Positive. Zuko’s asleep, the servants and guards have been dismissed and no one patrols the garden this late.” Azula promised, “We’re completely alone except for the turtleducks.”

Zuko’s eyes grew when he saw Katara step into his view, “They can stay. I don’t think they’ll tell anyone about us.” The waterbender smiled and wrapped her arms around Azula, kissing the princess passionately.

“Have I told you recently how absolutely amazing it is having you as my girlfriend?” Azula asked.

“Yes, but I always love hearing it more.” Katara leaned her forehead against Azula’s, “I love you, Azula.” Her voice was soft but Zuko definitely heard that.

“I…lo…I mean-“ Katara only giggled, kissing Azula again.

“I know what you mean.” That was too quiet for Zuko to hear but he decided to hide himself when their kissing showed no sign of stopping.

Zuko instantly hide himself from sight. His brain going a hundred miles an hour. Azula and Katara???? He would never have guessed. But…but Azula knew that was against the law. Fire Nationals weren’t allowed to be in relationships with people from the Water Tribe. Not that Zuko was about to go down there and bust them, but he was curious about what could have caused Azula to go against the law.

He’d have to talk to her tomorrow if he really wanted answers.

—————————————

“Azula?” Zuko asked.

Azula turned from her seat at her desk, where she was working on some papers he has asked her to fill out, and looked up at him, giving her brother her full attention, “You okay, Zuko? You look nervous.”

Zuko shut the door behind him, “I am nervous.”

“Why?” Azula’s eyes narrowed.

“I saw you yesterday.”

“….Okay?” Azula was either playing dumb or he wasn’t being clear enough, “I saw you yesterday too. Did you hit your head, Zuzu? You know there is such a thing as too many hits to the head.”

“Azula, I saw you with Katara in the garden and heard you.” Zuko watched as Azula’s eyes grew only for half a second then returned to unmoved. Her face slipped, if only for less than half a second, and that was all Zuko needed for confirmation, “You and Katara???”

“Don’t say it so loud.” Azula snapped, grabbing him and dragging him out to the balcony where no one would hear them, “Do you want me banished?”

“What?! No! Why would I want that?!”

“I just assumed based on you announcing to the world that I’m in a relationship with someone from the Water Tribe.” Azula growled. Right. The punishment for breaking the law was banishment.

“Azula, I…”

“Think I’m a freak? Think there’s something wrong with me that I would choose a partner from my opposite element?” Azula asked. Her tone made it seem like she expected him to hate her now. All that did was make Zuko’s face drop.

“No. No, I don’t think that at all. I just want to make sure you know what you’re doing. You know how people will react if they find out-“

“No one will find out. Katara and I are careful. We only meet at night, away from everyone and, when we do meet up during the day, we’re incredibly careful to not be suspected.” Azula explained, “We both know the risk, Zuzu. The Southern Water Tribe isn’t as strict with this law as we are, but Katara is still facing banishment if people find out about us. Especially because it’s me.”

“What do you mean?” Zuko asked.

“If Katara had just met some random Fire Nation peasant girl on her travels and got together with her, the tribe wouldn’t have been pleased and she might have faced social isolation but they wouldn’t kick her out of the tribe or keep her from participating in activities. Since she’s dating the Princess of the Fire Nation, Katara not only has betrayed her element by being with me but all the people who lost their lives to the Fire Nation.” Azula leaned over the balcony, letting the wind gently hit her hair to calm her down.

“Katara can’t blame you-“

“Katara blames me for nothing. It’s the older warriors in the tribe, who have done nothing but fight their whole lives, who would advocate for her banishment.” Azula told him, “We’re careful, Zuko, and we know the risks.”

“Good. I just wanted to tell you that and…that you do have a friend now.” Zuko smiled at Azula, “I won’t tell anyone.”

“Thank you, Zuzu.” After the two broke apart from their hug, Zuko took the opportunity for some fun.

“Now here’s my big question. How did you get Katara? Did you hit her over the head or bribe her or…”

“Ha-Ha. Hilarious.” Even with the joke being at her expense, Azula cracked a smile at her older brother’s antics.

“You must tell me your secret, Lala.” Zuko laughed, “You somehow got a girlfriend whose previous partner was the Avatar.”

“I happen to think I’m a better catch than the Avatar. Thank you very much.” Zuko winced and shook his hand back and forth, earning him a hit in the shoulder, "What happened to the friendly sibling relationship you promised the therapist you'd try at?"

"I'm no expert but I think this is a nice, normal sibling relationship. At least it's better than the days when you used to try and kill me."

"Hey! I never tried to kill you. I tried to capture you. There's a difference."

"Ah, yes, my mistake." Zuko chuckled, leaning against the railing and letting out a breath, "I'm really happy for you, Zula. You and Katara."

"Thank you."

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

"What do you mean Zuko knows?" Katara asked.

"Exactly that. Zuko knows we're dating." Azula repeated.

"What now? Do we have to break up? Do you have to leave the Fire Nation?" Azula shook her head, sitting down on her bed next to her girlfriend.

"No. He's actually okay with it."

"Really?” True Katara hadn’t expected Zuko to blow up at Azula and demand she leave—her asking before has really been a worst case scenario fear—but he was really completely okay with it?

“I was just as surprised as you are, but he really doesn’t have any problem with us dating. We just have to keep it secret.”

“So basically what we’ve been doing?”

“Pretty much except maybe a little more secret since Zuko did find out.”

Katara rolled her eyes, “Zuko is the Blue Spirit. I don’t think we have to worry about servants or nobles on the roof whenever we want a romantic night in the garden.”

“You mean you haven’t heard about how our servants travel on the roof all the time?” Azula asked, very clearly joking.

“I guess I missed that fact, but seriously, are we okay?” Katara asked, “I don’t want you to risk banishment for me, Azula.” Azula gave Katara a weak smile when her girlfriend moved her face away from Azula’s.

“I told you when we started dating. I’m okay with that risk.” Azula said, “I want to be with you. No matter what the possible penalty is.” She gently pushed Katara’s chin so that she was looking at her and kissed her girlfriend, “I…I lo…”

“I know.” Katara whispered, “I love you too, Azula, so, so much.” The collided in another kiss, sinking into the bed while the rest of the palace, even the guards outside, were none the wiser.

————————————

Two months passed after Zuko discovered them and nothing changed. Katara and Azula kept a low profile. In fact, many were sure the two hated one another which made Zuko almost laugh but he forced his laughter down. Eventually, the two decided to tell Mai, Ty Lee and Sokka about their relationship.

“You and you?!?” Sokka yelled, pointing between Katara and Azula, “Kat, you…you do know she’s-“

“I know she’s Fire Nation and I’m Water Tribe and I don’t care. I love her, Sokka.” Katara’s use of the word love made both Mai and Ty Lee’s eyes grow.

“Wow.” Sokka whispered, “So, how long have you two been together?”

“A year now.” Katara told him, “We got together shortly after the war when I went over to the palace to help heal her.” Azula took Katara’s hand in hers, “We both got to talking and realized we had a lot in common. Then, one night, Azula threw her face at mine and we kissed-

“I tripped!” Azula snapped, “You’re very messy sometimes, Tara.”

“You tripped? You tripped while we were both sitting on your bed?” Katara asked.

“I had gotten up to get something, came back, tripped and fell on Katara and, by accident, our lips touched.” Azula explained.

“Okay. Who were believes my story that Azula just stopped caring for long enough to kiss me?” Katara asked.

Everyone raised their hands.

“You’re all traitors.” Azula grumbled.

“But I’m very happy you did that, Zula. I don’t know if I would have been brave enough to make the first move.” Katara said, nuzzling Azula’s neck and making Azula practically melt.

“You certainly weren’t with Aang.” Sokka whispered, earning a hit of water right to the face.

“So, who all knows?” Mai asked.

“Just you guys but we’re trying to tell more people.” Katara admitted, “We just want to make sure we’re telling people we can trust first.”

“That’s a good idea.” Sokka nodded, “I don’t know how much dad could protect you if people found out about you and Azula.”

“Thanks for the confidence, Sokka.” Katara mumbled, “Don’t worry. Azula and I are careful not to be noticed. We made it a year and no one knew.”

“That’s impressive.” Ty Lee admitted, “How did you hide it for so long? I was sure you two hated each other.”

“We always just kept everything behind closed doors and, when we needed to fake an argument, we just found something random to argue about.” Azula shrugged, “And since Katara and myself are amazing actresses, no one ever suspect us.”

“You guys fooled me.” Ty Lee said.

“And me.”

“And me.”

“Not me.” Everyone looked at Mai.

“We fooled you.” Azula argued, “You just don’t want to admit it.”

“I’ve known for the past nine months that you two have been dating. I couldn’t sleep one night so I went for a walk and found you and Katara sneaking into the garden with food then you started kissing.”

“If you knew then why didn’t you say anything?” Azula demanded.

“Not my place.” Mai shrugged, “Plus, you two seemed really happy keeping it secret. I thought you’d be more comfortable if you kept believing that no one knew.” She calmly explained.

“Thank you, Mai.” Katara whispered.

“See, Zuzu? This is how you should have handled discovering our relationship.” Azula said.

“Not said a word and hope you two don’t get caught?” Zuko asked.

“Exactly!”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“A ridiculous person who can still kick your butt whenever I want.” Azula grinned.

“That’s not what the crown says.” Zuko said, standing up.

“The crown you only got because of Katara.”

“You fired at her!”

“You brought her!”

By this point in their relationship, no one was really all that scared when the two started arguing about the Agni Kai. They knew Zuko and Azula mostly did it for laughs and never really meant any harm when they started arguing about it. Over a year in therapy together really did do wonders.

“Let’s go. This could go on a while.” Sokka sighed.

“You guys feel like pig-cow for dinner?” Ty Lee asked.

“Oh! Yes! I know this great place in town!”

If only the group had noticed a pair of eyes that had been watching them during their entire conversation.

—————————————

Azula’s eyes slowly opened, allowing her to take in the sight of her room covered in the morning light. Thanks to Katara, she wasn’t really waking up at dawn anymore but still got up early. That morning, like most mornings, she could feel her girlfriend’s arm around her body.

“Katara.” Azula whispered, “Good morning.”

“Good morning.” Katara yawned and stretched her body, “We should have a lazy day. Just you and me.”

“That would be perfect but you know I have meetings.” Azula said.

“Why do you have to be princess and Zuko’s advisor?” Katara asked, resting her head on Azula’s chest.

“I don’t know, but I do know that I have to get up. What will you do this morning?”

“Probably a walk around town, then I need to send letters to me father and-“

The doors suddenly slammed open. Katara and Azula, thanks to years at war, sat up quickly and got fire and water ready to use against the attackers but there were no attackers. Just Hakoda, who did not look happy.

“Katara?” Hakoda asked.

“Dad?” Katara quickly realized she wasn’t really wearing a lot of clothes and grabbed a blanket to cover herself with. Hakoda took his own light jacket off, which he always had with him, and wrapped it around his daughter, “Dad. What are you doing here?”

“I was told my daughter had something to tell me. I think I can guess what it is.” Hakoda growled, looking at Azula, who was also now pretty embarrassed to be caught in a situation like this but especially so wearing only the barest of clothing.

“Sir, we-“

Hakoda cut Azula off, “You stay away from my daughter! I don’t want you anywhere near her or I will throw you into the ocean!” Azula wasn't all that afraid of Hakoda but having a grown man yell at her did remind her a lot of Ozai. Involuntarily, she winced and backed up, flames dancing on her finger tips in case she had to defend herself.

“Dad! Don’t talk to Azula like that!” Katara yelled, “I love her!”

“No, you don’t. You’re confused and attaching yourself to the first person you could find after Aang. A few months in the South Pole will-“

Katara's face twisted into disgust at her father's words, “No!” Katara yelled, going to Azula’s side, “I’m not confused and I’m not just dating Azula because of connivence. I. Love. Her!”

“Katara, sweetie,” Hakoda’s voice changed to one that sounded more calm and understanding, “I came here because word has already spread to the Water Tribe that you and Azula are together."

"What!? How do they know?" Katara asked.

Hakoda only shrugged. It didn't matter how they knew now. All that mattered was that this did know, "The council is very upset by your choice to date the Princess of the Fire Nation and-

"Let me guess. They want me banished." Hakoda could only nod.

“I’d rather be banished than not stay with Azula.” Katara’s declaration made the room go quiet, but Katara continued and turned towards her girlfriend, “Azula, you don’t have to feel the same way. You can say whatever you need to to-"

“I love you.” Azula whispered, “I want to stay with you too. No matter what.” Tears of joy filled Katara's eyes when she went to kiss Azula.

"So what now?" Katara asked.

"Now you two should leave." Hakoda sighed, "Zuko is doing every he can, but it will probably be best if you both disappear for a while." The two nodded.

"You won't try and stop us?" Katara asked.

"I came because I thought there was a way to keep you in the Southern Water Tribe, a way to make this all go away, but...but you clearly love Azula. I know that when I lost Kya I never forgave the person who took her away from me. I'd hate myself if I was the person who took you away from Azula." Katara offered her dad a hug, feeling his arms wrap tightly around her.

"We'll send a letter when we find a safe place."

"Good. I'll tell Zuko about what you two decided to do. Promise me you'll be careful."

"I promise."

Hakoda then turned his head towards Azula, "And promise me you'll protect her."

"I will." Azula nodded.

An hour later, Azula and Katara had snuck out of the palace and were on their way to the docks with hoods over their heads to avoid being recognized.

"Regret dating me yet?" Katara asked.

Azula only offered her girlfriend a smirk and a kiss on the lips, "Not for a second."

[sehtoast]

Like Real People Do (Depowered Homelander x OC)

spidersona oc, depowered homie, silly sweet domestics, bittersweet almost, i love him | Fic Directory

prompt 3 : grocery shopping

@cozycornerevents

The simplicity of human life has been one of the greater hurdles for Homelander.  If not for Benjamin, he doubts he’d do more than stand like a fool, list in hand, hoping for some Vought assistant to show up and do the insurmountably mundane task for him.  But… those days are gone.

It’s taken him a long time to get to this point.  Going out in public after losing his powers seemed a feat greater than flying ever was.  It was petrifying to imagine someone recognizing him as he was now, all scruffy and dark-haired, so pitifully human with his eyeglasses.  He’s never quite sure if it’s a compliment or insult when Benjamin tells him no one will notice.

He settles for it being neither.  This is him now– Homelander is simply who he used to be despite how he still clings to his old identity.  He’s just John now.

Just John.

John, who walks hand in hand with his secretly-super boyfriend through the aisles of the supermarket, doing his best to spot the items they need.

New toothbrush.  Mouthwash– not that weird stuff we got last time.

John, who was learning bit by bit, day by day, what it means to have that normal life he’d always dreamt of.  Picket fence or not, this was it.

Pasta noodles.  Chicken breasts.  Lettuce.  Hot sauce.

The mundane.  The ordinary.  A far shot from the way he’d been raised.  

Mini Spidey-O’s Cereal.  Paper Towels.

Something that little boy in the lab could’ve never imagined. 

Coffee creamer.  Milk.

Something the man he was a mere two years prior could’ve never fathomed.

Chocolate ice cream. Frozen blueberries.

Things the man he is today will never take for granted.

Flowers, because you deserve them, pumpkin ♥

“What?” Ben asks with a playful smile.

And someone who makes each little moment worth more than all the power in the world.

“Nothing,” Homelander mumbles, his cheeks burning a light pink.  Still so odd how something as simple as goddamn grocery store flowers can make him turn red– make him feel appreciated.  Not that simple twenty dollar bouquets were the extent of Benjamin’s gifting to him– certainly not, it was just…

So goddamn simple.

“D’you have your rewards card, sweetie?” The cashier asks him.  An older woman by the name of May who he’d come to appreciate during these trips.  Thursdays were their grocery day specifically so they could chat with her.  She doted on them.  Dubbed the boys ‘her favorites.’

John’s awkward stacking on the conveyor belt ceases and he fumbles for his wallet.  She scans it despite the little nervous shakes in his hands that he won’t quite be able to quell until they’re back in the safety of their home.  May gives him a sweet smile and starts scanning, passing each item down to Benjamin for bagging.

He has to ignore the tabloids and magazines adorning the checkout lane. 

Homelander Vanished. 

Abandoned by Our Hero. 

Years since his ‘retirement,’ yet his old image stares him down wherever he goes. He keeps his focus on May and Ben to spare himself the burn of agony and shame. When his eyes try to wander back, he makes himself stare at a magazine with Ben's mask printed on the front. 

Along Came a Spider. 

How a Bug Brought Balance. 

She strikes up her regular small talk.  The weather, the bustle of the city– and damn that traffic, she always says.  Ben giggles back and forth with her, and Homelander pitches in from time to time.  She talks about her grandchildren for a while– Shaun and Emily, the absolute loves of her life, the stars in her sky– then grins widely as she scans the bouquet. 

“Boys, forgive an old woman for being nosy, but when is the wedding?”  

Both him and Benjamin smile wide and turn a shade or two red.

“Maybe someday,”  they both tell her in unison.

“Good,” she says over the beep of the scanner.  “I want a front row seat, y’all hear me?”

They grin and giggle the whole way home about it, hands joined over the center console of the car.  

Marriage… 

“Well, y’know… Vought did put my last name on your papers.” Ben hums. He never told Homelander the ugly reason why it was done, but John didn’t need to know that.  His elation at the liberation of finally legally existing was all that mattered.  “In a way, aren’t we kinda already sorta married?”

Homelander blinks a few times in rapid succession as the thought nests and roots in his mind.  Are they? 

“I swear, May gives us some weird realization every time we go.” The bug grins.  “Here I thought she couldn’t beat that whole ‘it’s impossible to kiss yourself anywhere but on the lips in the mirror’ bit, but she outdid herself today, huh?”

John squeezes Ben’s hand tighter almost out of instinct.  Despite the cool air blowing from the air vent, he couldn’t fight the sting of tears in his eyes. 

Married… 

“Hey, you okay?”  Ben murmurs as they approach an all too convenient red light.

Is he?  Hell, will he ever be?

He just nods.  It’s not abnormal for him to have his silent little mood shifts.  He’s sure Ben will understand. 

Besides, that was too big of a question.  In truth, he’s mystified by the idea.  Once upon a time, he dreamt of putting a ring on Ben’s finger.  He knew, though, that Vought would never let them be public.  They could never in a million years dream of it without a trillion pounds of consequences being dropped on their heads.  Public backlash, too, given the general views of his former fanbase.  But that never stopped him from imagining another world.   He’d have walked Ben out on stage in front of the masses, dropped to one knee, and popped the question then and there– and damn it he might cry in the moment, but would that be a bad thing?  To hear his little spider agree to spend eternity with him, to slip that little band on his finger and feel his heart bloom in his chest– would it be wrong to feel it in his very soul?

Homelander sniffles himself from his stupor when he feels the soft thud of the car pulling into the driveway.  

Home.

Where he’s safe and loved, always and forever, with that dork who insisted upon carrying every bag in all at once by himself.  The same one who wasted no time at all in pressing a warm kiss to his lips and gazing at him with a cosmos worth of love in his eyes.

Homelander shuts his eyes and leans in to press his forehead against Ben’s.  There’s groceries to put away and dinner to be made, but for now it doesn’t hurt to bask in the presence of the love of his life.  If he lets his mind wander far enough, right now, right then, they’re swaying gently to their first dance as an officially married couple.  They’ll have just tied the knot, and everyone that matters will be there.  He feels Ben’s arms snake up around his neck and he wraps his own around the bug’s waist.

Times like these make him miss his powers more than anything.  Once upon a time, they’d do exactly this above the clouds, spinning slowly in place.  The world was theirs.

Perhaps, though, it still is.  

Perhaps they’d never lost it at all.

link insertion busted, ao3 link here

[margowritesthings]

Te Beroya: I

SERIES MASTERLIST

pairing: Mandalorian!Arthur Morgan x reader crossover: Star Wars x Red Dead Redemption prompt: 24. “Your charms won’t work on me, pretty. I’m not that kind of bounty hunter.” & 45. “You’re prettier than the stars above, you know that?” (from @saradika's Star Wars prompts!) word count: 3359 words warnings: brief mentions of harassment in a flashback, implied non-con intentions but flashback ends before anything happens, somewhat suggestive fighting authors note: this is shameless self care where I have no idea if anyone will even read this, but I totally just sat and wrote the whole ass thing last night in one sitting?? anyway, this is 100% inspired by @saradika's incredible fallout/star wars AU, and it will be a mini series! I hope y'all enjoy, cause Mandalorian!Arthur has my whole ass heart. If you're here from Red Dead and have no idea whats going on, I've left a little glossary at the bottom of the fic with any terms I've used!!

i haven't tagged anyone cause i didn't know if my usual Arthur people would like a crossover or not, so please let me know if you'd like to be tagged in the next part!!

beta read by @cowboydisaster, divider by @saradika

Max Rebo is on tonight, so the Cantina is busy. More so than usual, which gladly works in your favour. It’s much easier to blend in with the rabble when there’s so many of them, diminishing the danger of getting a simple drink after a long day. You miss the time when danger wasn’t something you had to consider before something as simple as a trip to the watering hole, but that’s life now. 

You’re sitting at a table for two, the second chair pulled away by a group of Klantoonians playing Dejarik and making bets amongst each other, which works fine for you. An empty chair might invite guests, which is the last thing in the Galaxy you want right now. 

When you throw your drink to the back of your throat, it burns just how you like it, though the sight of a now empty glass pulls your brows together in an almost pout. You have very few credits left, and with your face coded into half the bounty pucks this side of the Outer Rim, work is pretty sparing these days.

A knight in shining beskar turns heads as he strolls into the Cantina, a Mandalorian whos helmet catches the dim spotlights scattered around the dusty bar when he appears to survey the clientele surrounding you, capturing your attention in the process. It’s a rare sight, seeing a Mandalorian walk so openly around the place, and the man instantly ignites a fascination in you. Sure, the Daimyo around here has the armour, but Boba Fett doesn’t claim to be a part of any creed, so you’re not entirely sure where he stands.

You’re so lost in your thoughts that it isn’t until the stranger is right in front of you, two glasses in hand, do you realise he was even approaching. 

“Mind if I sit? I can pay rent.” He asks, his low, gruff accent hinting at origins in Mos Pelgo Freetown- as he gestures to the two glasses grasped in gloved hands. Curious eyes scan over his figure, tall and built as he is, landing on the full glass of whiskey with your name on it. A solution to your dry problem, albeit a risky one. It all depends on how much you’re willing to gamble for a drink…

“If you can find a seat, sure…” You shrug, fauxing a nonchalant air about you to keep suspicions low. You have no reason to trust this man, but showing that so openly would surely attract questions you’re not prepared to answer. 

The glasses are placed down, the mystery Mandalorian taking a few steps, winding around the merry crowds to reach the nearest table. You watch on, amused, pretty sure anyone in this whole place would choose a fight over giving up their seat; the Cantina hardly has the clientele of the highest calibre. It’s an apprehension you feel, almost an excitement, at the thought of a fight breaking out and distracting everyone enough for you to pick a few pockets. And you’ve already got your drink… 

You’re busy planning who you’re gonna steal from when you notice the presence this man commands. He’s tall, built up with muscles packed under his beskar. You can’t see his face, and you wonder if he’s one of those Mandalorians who never remove their helmets, your curiosity officially piqued. He approaches the group who took the seat in the first place, one of them scoffing at what you assume to be a request for the seat. You sit up, ready for the ensuing fight, but it never comes. Instead, the Mandalorian leans down, right up to the other’s face, and it’s far too loud in here to hear what he’s said, but stars would you love to know what has a Klantoonian scrambling up like that and offering out the stool. 

Disappointment and a strange sense of admiration mixes in you as you lean back into your seat, your new tablemate following suit and sliding one glass across to you. 

“Cheers,” You announce, lifting your glass to clink it against thin air before taking a sip, savouring the burn over your tongue a little more this time. The Mandalorian nods his head in response, and just as you think you’ve worked him out, he reaches for his helmet and pulls it off his head, placing it down on the table and taking a gulp from his own drink. 

It takes you a moment to take him all in. His sandy hair, tousled from the helmet, a couple strands falling in front of his tanned skin. He has the jawline of a deity, spattered with stubble that is only broken with a small scar on his chin. 

Dank Farrik.

You know his face. You know this man, you’ve seen that scar, those eyes, (though even in the dark cantina you can see an incredible ocean hue that no hologram nor poster could never hope to capture) before, hanging on the walls of  the underground bars you used to frequent before every crime family on the planet were after your head.

Arthur Morgan, bounty hunter.

It’s too late to flee, and the disruption you’d cause by bolting would only draw more attention to you, so your only option appears to be complacency, for now. Act the fool, pretend you don’t know exactly who he is and why he’s here, and let whatever little plan he has in store for you play out until you can excuse yourself and get the hell out of here. 

You school your expression to as much indifference as you can, though the rather long sip of your drink may have given you away. Arthur watches you intently, and if you didn’t know better you’d think he was buying you a drink to flirt with you. But you do know better, unfortunately. 

“You know,” he starts, drawing out the statement and retaining your attention with a long sip of his own, “You’re prettier than the stars above.” 

Whiskey shoots down your throat and back up again with your little splutter, not expecting this to be his plan. You just about manage to suppress the scoff rising up like bile,  concealing it in a cough. Your fight or flight is in hyperdrive, and the reverend Arthur Morgan laying on the fake charm in order to cash in on the price on your head really isn’t helping. He’s good, though, you had to give him that. It’s a mighty fine pickup line coming from a mighty fine looking man, it’s just a shame he’s trying to capture you.

“Afraid your charms won’t work on me, pretty boy. I’m not that kinda girl.”

“Pretty boy, really?” He doesn’t seem mad, more amused, a raised brow meeting with a little chuckle and a head shake as he throws the last of his drink back down. 

It’s now or never. 

You throw the last of your own drink back, part for the plan, part for the Dutch courage needed to actually pull the plan off. 

“Same again?” You ask, your stool squeaking awkwardly against the stone floor when your straightening legs push it into the wall, “I think this rounds on me.”

It’s a near perfect act of indifference, with only a single, traitorous voice break right at the end. You hope he doesn’t notice, but it’s wishful thinking. Arthur stands too, echoing your stools creak, his hand reaching on instinct to the holster hanging by his hip.

Dank farrik dank farrik dank farrik!!

“Don’t you worry about that, pretty girl.” The way he throws your pet name back at you… he knows you know, and you have seconds to act.

Eyes wide, like a bantha in headlights, you take your chances in throwing the last of your drink back, before throwing the glass over to the table of gamers and gamblers. It hits one of them on the back of the head, and everybody turns to him, the music cutting off abruptly for a few seconds of silence before the chaos erupts. 

You’re the first to move, breaking the almost comical freeze frame to put one boot on the table and push it into Arthur. He lunges for you, missing by inches, so close you feel the air rush past your skin where he nearly grazes you. The table hits him in the stomach, and he’s forced to bend over it, giving you the perfect opportunity to risk everything and grab the blaster jutting out. You shoot twice, high into the ceiling, which really kicks things off. The cantina soon descends into riot status, with punches thrown, drinks flying and the like. The distraction you’ve been after ever since he walked in here with his uneasy air and the hairs on the back of your neck first began to stand on edge.

The path out is far from easy, and you’re pretty sure you stood on more than a few limbs, but when the dry heat of a Tatooine night hits you, you’ve never been so grateful.  You don’t look back once, not knowing if he’s following you or even if he saw where you’re going, you just run until your lungs burn and your muscles scream at you and then you run some more. There’s a spot you know, an abandoned farm house just outside the city that’s covered in sand and looks like it hasn’t been touched in years. You hid out there once before, the last time a bounty hunter tried their luck with you, successfully prolonging this never ending hunt where you’re the prey every damn time.

It’s a long night, one where you don’t sleep a wink nor dare to light a fire. It doesn’t seem like Arthur followed you, but it was a few hours after reaching the farmhouse did you release the grip of your stolen blaster enough for it to no longer press each metal marking into the skin of your palm. You keep your back pressed firmly against the wall of one of the sand-filled alcoves, keeping hidden from sight until the suns are both well above the horizon. The mid-morning heat is a grateful relief from the biting cold; even the desert cools in the dead of night. 

You spot the bantha first, letting it lure you into a false sense of security before it gets close enough for you to make out the details of its silhouette, one detail in particular being the goddamn bounty hunter sitting atop it. 

The fact that he’s here at all means he knows he’ll find you here, but logic doesn’t get in the way of you scuttling back into the house, climbing to what used to be the second floor and pulling the blaster back out to press against your chest. 

Not exactly the faster creatures in the Outer Rim, it takes the bantha and its rider a few torturous minutes to reach you, but when they do arrive, Arthur dismounts casually, with no indication that he intends to send you back to your maker. Your breath hitches as he walks down the little incline of sand into the ruins of the house. 

He turns on his heel, and you notice the spurs on his boots make a little circle in the sand around his feet. 

“I know you’re here, mesh’la,” he taunts, bringing out a Mando’a translation of the newly formed inside joke you seem to share now, “Ain’t no point hiding.” 

He’s right, you know he is. There is no way out, no possibility you’re going to escape him, and even if you did, there’s no cover out here. He’ll be able to sit back and watch wherever you run, just waiting to follow. You could shoot him, but the weight of the blood you’ve already spilled is already becoming too much. Could you really carry more?

Tears threaten to prick at your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall, refuse to let the shaking of your hands carry on for any longer than your cover does. He won’t see the cracks in your facade, that you’ll make sure of.

“You’re prettier than the stars above, you know that?” 

It will be a cold day on Mustafar when the great Arthur Morgan bows to flattery, but that doesn’t stop you from poking whatever fun you can reach. 

Your voice echoing around the remains of the farmhouse alerts Arthur of your general location, so he turns to it, giving you a full view of the amused grin on his face.

“Your charms won’t work on me, pretty girl. I ain’t that kind of bounty hunter.” 

You laugh. A genuine, true laugh, despite yourself. Despite everything. 

“Come on out now, no-one needs to get hurt…” He pleads, wandering eyes indicating he’s still not 100% sure where you are.

“Except me, when you hand my ass in for a few credits.” You point out, noticing that your back and forth seems to have quelled the tremors in your hands. Let’s not ponder that right now…

Arthur looks taken aback, like he genuinely doesn’t know what to say to that. Good. Let him stutter to death for all you care. 

“Well, maybe you shoulda’ thought of that before you started sloggin’ off some mighty powerful people, sweetheart…” 

His comment seems to spark, igniting a firework of anger deep within you. It explodes loudly, albeit quickly, when you aim Arthur’s own blaster to beside his feet, firing a warning shot that smokes in the sand. You wouldn’t be surprised to see one of his boots singed with how close you were, but when he jumps back, pulling out another identical blaster from a second holster and aiming it right at your alcove, you curse inwardly. How did you not notice that?

“You have no idea what you’re talking about, bounty hunter.” You seethe, that anger burning hot as he claims to understand your situation. 

“Well why don’t you come out here and we can talk about it?” 

That earns a scoff, which Arthur responds to with a long sigh.

“Look… way I see it, you’ve got two choices. You can come out, do this the easy way, and I can bring you in nice and warm, get my full fee, and you live to see another day. Or-”

“Yeah, I get it, beroya,” You spit the Mando’a name out like a curse, “Or you can kill me right now and have a real lonely drive back to wherever the hell it is they want my corpse.” 

You hate that he’s right, hate that you’re cornered, hate that it’s over, ignoring the small part of you that sighs relief at the prospect of no longer having to live life with one eye on your back. 

There’s one last, long, deep breath, the exhale feeling like letting go of something, though you’re not sure if it’s freedom or the captivity this hunt has kept you in, and then you’re jumping from the second floor, landing in the sand with a thud. You’re still clutching the gun, but so is Arthur, and you’re not sure you’d fare well in a duel against an actual sharpshooter, so you toss it over to him, sand flying off at him in a final, petty move. 

Arthur picks it up, holstering a pistol at each hip as he slowly approaches, hands raised like a keeper trying to tame a wild rancor. You can’t decide if you like that allegory on not, rancors can get pretty vicious… 

The handcuffs you also didn’t notice last night hang from the bounty hunter’s belt. You’re still while he corners you, appearing willing when he plucks the binders from his belt. It isn’t until you feel gloved hands against your skin do the prickles on the back of your neck start burning and the urge to flee rises up again like bile. 

Phantom hands, Trandoshan ones, appear all over your body as you’re flung out of reality from a single touch. 

“Aren’t you a gem?” his whisper just about reaches your ear, warm breath bubbling at the skin of your neck like acid. He runs a claw across your jaw, resting it below your chin so you can’t look away. 

“Please don’t touch me.” You demand, though your voice is weak. Scared. You know what happens to girls who don’t do what they’re told around here.

That displeasure spreading across his face twists and contorts it when he registers your disobedience. Notably, his claws remain on you, and when you try to step backwards, he crowds you, following until your back hits the cold stone wall. Claustrophobia sets in, your breath hitching when you feel his chest press against yours. 

“Hm… I think I will, girl. Nobody says no to me, you’ll do well to remember that.” 

The stench of whatever cologne rich Trandoshan boys wear lingers in your nostrils like it so often does, but your mind catches up with where you really are faster than your body does. It’s instinct, when you bring your knee up to hit Arthur hard in the gut and completely wind him. He lets out a groan, doubling over and dropping the binders in the process, which you kick across the sand. 

You use his distraction to push him over onto his back, but he grabs the lapels of your jacket and drags you down with him so you’re straddling him, crotch to crotch as you attempt to pin him down into the sand. Your thighs squeeze together in an attempt to constrict his wriggling, but he’s pretty strong. You’re not thinking straight when you pull your fist back, with every intention of striking Arthur in the face, but the shock of his catching your fist in his much bigger hands seems to bring you back to reality and you realise what you’re doing. 

Frozen, for only a second, but it’s enough window to give Arthur chance to overpower you, twisting your bodies together until you’re below him instead and he can pin down each arm by the wrist. Your thighs remain wrapped around him, and with Arthur towering over you, it has suddenly become an awfully intimate position shared between the two of you. His face is inches from yours, his hot, panting breaths mixing with yours. Both of your chests rise and fall, just barely touching as you glare into eachothers eyes. 

“The hell was that?!” He demands, and you’re trying your absolute hardest to ignore the prodding you feel against your thigh. Maker help you…

He doesn’t deserve a response from you, only the ceasing of your strained muscles trying to escape his iron grip as a silent admit to defeat. With the way you fell, your satchel is digging awkwardly into your lower back, so you raise your hips slightly to ease the ache. An unexpected effect of that is your pelvis grinding oh-so gently against Arthur’s, which seems to bring a surge of energy to that bulge pressing against you. Your eyes widen, as do Arthur’s, and there’s one single moment shared between the two of you before he quickly scrambles off you, not releasing his bruising grip on your wrists. 

When he stands, he doesn’t give you the chance to before he’s walking to the direction you kicked his cuffs. It drags you along the coarse sand, your wrist screaming from the strain of carrying your weight.

“Ow- you’re gonna break my wrist, you fucking nerf herder!” You hiss at him, kicking your legs in protest as sand flies about the place and you’re dragged to the cuffs. 

“Shoulda’ thought about that before ya tried to break my goddamn nose, mesh’la.” The term of endearment is anything but sincere, coupled with rough movements as he cuffs you that hint that he may be pretty pissed about the sudden unexpected fight. The binders are a little too tight to ever be comfortable, but you’re pretty sure that’s intentional. A slice of revenge for trying to run again.

“These are too tight.” You complain, lifting your wrists up to his standing form. 

“Well, you better get used to it. We’ve got a long ride to Mos Espa, Princess.”

beroya - bounty hunter dank farrik - curse word mesh'la - beautiful trandoshan - an alien species, one of the crime families of tatooine

[prettyjunk]

dating hc for izzy!!

izzy stradlin x reader

sfw headcanons!

sorry i’ve been absent!! :< i’ve been pretty busy lately, trying to focus mostly on my wattpad book (b sure to check that out for me<3) but i do have a couple mini requested fics that are soon to be ready :) so expect that!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧

what is there to say about mr jeffrey dean isbell..

even though he seems like a very quiet, overall gloomy person, he really isn’t like that. izzy has a big personality, he just knows when and where to be the way he truly is.

you discovered this pretty soon into your relationship. he would joke about stuff here and there, using sarcasm every-single-time he spoke to you. as soon as you gained his trust— he unraveled completely.

he’s funny as shit. and this is not only behind closed doors, he usually makes you burst out laughing when you go out as he whispers random comments about prejudgments on people surrounding you both. this is something that you obviously you didn’t expect the first time you met him, and yet it’s one of his biggest features.

izzy’s not really a touchy person, specially in public. he’s not a fan of pda; but he always keeps you close. if you’re not right next to him, he ogles you until you realize where you’re supposed to be.

funny enough— a lot of alcohol does make him clingy.

but only when he’s really really really drunk. to the point where he’s on the verge of blacking out (which is pretty often, actually.) you’d find him falling asleep on a table, and when you check to see if he’s breathing, he holds onto you and doesn’t let go for dear life.

obviously if you mention this the day after, he denies completely. too hurtful for his pride— he has a reputation to keep!

he really enjoys matching with you <3 he buys shirts the same colors of your favorite clothing items, so you guys “unexpectedly” match sometimes.

a sweet detail he does; he writes about you all the time. anything that comes to mind, anywhere and everywhere. tiny fragments written on a unreadable handwriting that sometimes make no sense— but they’re always about you.

izzy writes on napkins, receipts, newspaper edges, ripped out pages that are all around his house. everywhere. he never lets you see them if you ask, but he leaves them all over the place to make sure you do.

he loves having you around. not for a particular reason, he just feels more at ease if you’re there. so there’s no discussion when he goes on tour; you’re either going or you’re going.

even when he was full-on an addict— he didn’t like the idea of you being near drugs. as hypocritical as it sounds, he gets really overprotective when people offer you strong drugs at parties, or suggest you try anything that’s not alcohol or weed. everyone picked at him for doing so; but he knows it’s not right, and he doesn’t want it for you.

big gift giver!! but not in a materialist way, more in a— i saw this and it reminded me of you so i bought it kind of way. so let’s not talk about the enormous amount of jewelry you have.

he prefers staying at home, eating leftovers and talking, than dressing up and going to a restaurant. he doesn’t really enjoy going out like that, saying that it’s a waste of energy, money, and gas. he’s a really simple guy.

izzy’s favorite thing to do is making you blush. he really enjoys embarrassing you in public so your cheeks turn red and you have to look away— and he usually has it so fucking easy. he just needs to whisper little compliment, touch you unexpectedly, kiss your neck, and so on.

he really enjoys traveling with you. specially road-trips, izzy loooooooves road-trips. so weekend getaways happened almost every weekend he wasn’t touring.

and he specially likes poorly planned, cheap little vacations. he likes just making a backpack and going away with you, staying at hostels or camping.

you often find izzy staring at you. and he doesn’t stop when you realize he is— he just really enjoys studying your features, engraving them in his mind. if he was good at painting, be completely confident that he could draw you perfectly from memory.

he’s not really good with spoken reassurance, but he finds his ways to remind you that he loves you. and it’s usually by compliments— not a day goes by where he doesn’t remind you how lovely you look, or how beautiful you are.

and the most important headcanon for me,

🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁

IZZY STRADLIN ENJOYS BEING THE LITTLE SPOON.

izzy stradlin enjoys being the little spoon.

izzy stradlin enjoys being the little spoon.

izzy stradlin enjoys being the little spoon.

[thechaoticdruid]

Okay I just passed 100 followers so let's try to write a fanfiction together shall we? Honestly I've been thinking about this idea for a while now, and although there are several ways it might not work out, I really think it would be a fun little roleplay type of game we can do.

Using the idea of all the BG3 companions somehow being in our world (Like in my fanfic This Bites) the modern world, lets send our friends on a vacation to Disney World (because I have never been to a Disney Park 🥲) Rules are simple: Try to keep the story on track, tag any good fic writers you think would be interested in playing along, sexual innuendos and jokes are okay but try to keep anything added sfw okay guys?

The story begins with a road trip! The gang is all piled into a large mini van, Gale or perhaps Jaheira is the one who drives. Minsc or Wyll sits up front next to the driver while everyone else is crammed in the back. Tav (who is a gnome in this story because give me more gnome Tav rep damnit!) is squished between Astarion and Karlach who are both subtly competing for who gets to snuggle Tav. Lae'zel and Shadowheart are forced to sit next to one another as they growl and sneer at the other.

In an attempt to break up the tension Tav turns on a movie (yes it's one of those van's with a little TV that comes out of the ceiling.)

Oh and Durge is there too, he just happens to be asleep in the trunk. Don't ask how we fit a huge dragonborn in the trunk....

Reblog to continue and find out if they stop for snacks 👇

[agirlwholovesrockstars]

drenched

☆AGATHA'S MASTERLIST☆

☆ EDDIE MUNSON'S MASTERLIST ☆

warnings : 18+ MDNI Eddie Munson x FEM!reader, language, SMUT‼️, friends to lovers, establishing a relationship, protected sex, no use of y/n, Eddie and reader are both 21

note to reader : welcome to my first mini fictions hehe I have so many ideas but so limited time to write them all 💀

author note : I have so many thoughts about reader doing laundry and something else happened 👀 it's been a while since I made ✨another spicy fic✨ here ya go- hehe

You've been neighbors with Eddie since 2 years ago

He's nice, like super duper nice, better than any of the guys that you met before in highschool

Without him, maybe, you ended up stranded having no else to call for help not that you can't do it by yourself but it's nice to have someone

You got the house all to yourself, you got settled down, you pay your bills & taxes, you even have a job that isn't stressing you

Eddie on the other hand, have gigs and sometimes a mechanic, his house is not that much but you love how simple it is

Sometimes, you wonder, what if.... you'll date him? You'll let him if he asked you out but you can't assume that he likes you that way...

You can wait, you'll just have to wait and see if something happens

8am in the morning, you're in the backyard of your house, doing your other laundry by hand washing them

Your hair is tied up into a messy bun with lil' bit of hair flyaways on the front, you're just wearing a white tank top with white shorts that keeps riding up whenever you try to move

Eddie came home after he took a night off at Gareth's place, slightly had an headache but the moment he saw you in there

The ray of sunshine hits your skin so perfectly, the morning breeze whooshes your hair, the suds in your hands dripping with water

He doesn't even noticed that his jaw dropped at the sight of you

He accidentally dropped his keys on the wood floor on his porch making a thud sound

"Eddie? Is that you?" You say while clipping your rinsed clothes on the wire

"Damn- uh- yeah, it's me" he clicks his tongue and shakes his head feeling like creep, checking you out like that

"How's the show? Was it good?" You asked while squeezing out the water from your clothes

He can't even pick out the lock from his front door, he is staggering "Y-yeah, it was great"

"Oh, I wish I was there to see it!" After you hang your wet clothes, you squat down to hand wash the other ones

"Uh- yeah- me too" he finally unlocks it and throw his things on the side and walk towards at your backyard

He is standing there, wearing a black muscle shirt, with denim pants and white Reebok's

He hangs his arms around the small door of your backyard, watching you

The soap bubbles are covering your hands, Eddie watching you as he licks his lips witnessing the other strap of your tank top falls off, you reach out to put it back on your shoulder

He clears his throat, you rise your head up you're so focused on what you're doing you didn't even noticed he was there

"Oh, goodmorning, Eddie" you beam at him while tucking a piece of hair on your ear

"Goodmorning to you, darling" he smiles shyly

"So, uh- what are you doing later?" He asks while he catches your short riding up, giving another glimpse of your exposed skin

You reach it out again to pull it down

You pause at what you're doing to think for a moment, you turn your head directly at him "I don't have any plans for later, why?"

"M-Me either"

Oh shit, maybe- he's finally asking you out

You act casual but deep inside, you're grinning so widely

"Just say it, dumbass" he mumbled to himself

"What I'm trying to say was- can I take you out for dinner?" His hands are grip onto your small door and he looks like a kid waiting for an answer, god- this man is too precious

"Sure, you can" you stand up, holding the basin in your hands filled with soapy water

"is that a yes?"

"Yes, Eddie, you can take me out" you chuckled

His eyes sparkles with so much joyfulness

"Oh- great, um- pick you up at 7?"

"yeah- that's fine"

He nods and runs his hands on his sides

The moment you moved too fast to take out the water, it splashed onto your shirt making it look like a bit see through, he glanced on your stomach, he saw your white chiffon cotton bra

"Oh, goddamn it!" You exclaimed, you sigh, you throw the left water from the basin

You shake down your hands making a water splatter everywhere

You look at Eddie, there's a look you can even read but you said "I'm sorry, but I'll see you later, I'm gonna go clean up" you point out from your backdoor

You didn't gave him a chance to reply, you're already inside the house

He blinked and gulped, he is harboring feelings for you ever since the first time you moved here

He reach down the lock from your small door and he lets himself inside

He opens the door and he finds you, still wet from the soapy water, your messy bun is perfectly styled, your hair is sticking onto your skin, you winced at the uncomfortable feeling of wet clothes

You heard something behind you, you turned around to see, Eddie, his eyes are like the predator and you're the prey, but he looks menacingly good

You're confused, "Eddie- what are you doing in here?"

He walks towards you, he reaches down to grab your chin, your eyes widen of what he's about to do- he slammed his lips onto yours

My god, he is kissing you, Eddie Munson is kissing you!

You didn't even care you have soapy hands, you kissed him back, you run your hands through his chest and onto his waist

He shivers at your touch, he grabs the plush of your ass while he pulls you closer as he deepens the kiss earning a moan from you

He smirks through the kiss, he holds your waist putting his hands under your damp shirt as he touches your skin, he mewled when you run your fingers through his hair

Both of you, break the kiss, feeling breathless, his eyes filled with lust and yours with desire, he scoops you up and you yelped

Placing you down at the couch, he quickly melts into your touch the moment you pull him from the shoulder as you kiss him burning with love and affection

He palms your breasts and you lock him with your legs, you make out like it was the last days of your life

He kissed your neck, making love bites, giving him more skin as you move your head onto the side

"you smell so good" he whispers to your ear, you clench your legs at his warm breath

"So, do you" you bat your eyes at him and he laughs devilishly

"Keep talking like that, I might ruin you"

"So, destroy me"

He looks at you with daggering stare, he pulls you down and you squealed, he chuckles darkly

He became softer for a sec, he runs circles on your bended knee with him kneeling down between your legs

"Look, I don't want to rush you, sweetheart"

"Eddie, I know you want to eat me, you have my permission" you say with frustration

He raised a brow at you, looking at down at you- eyes with mischief

He slowly unties your shorts, he removes it and puts it down on the floor

"Holy shit" he stares at your soaking wet panties, he laughs at disbelief

"I didn't know you had a effect like this on me, sweet thing" he covers his mouth with hands as he couldn't comprehend the situation

You rolled your eyes as you bring your legs together as you wiggle out your underwear and you threw it at him and he catches it

"I am keeping this" he smirks putting it in his back pocket

He looks down at your naked cunt, his mouth waters at the sight of it- you grew flustered at how he stares at it

"I'm going to take real care for you, darling, don't worry" he assures you by winking

He goes down and he kisses you again, he goes down slowly, his hot breath is on your cunt and you moaned

"I'm not even doing anything yet!" He laughs

"Are you gonna-" you shout angrily

He eats you with no warning, and you gasp- he devours your cunt like a starved man

"O-Oh my god" you breathe heavily

He dips his tongue on your hole, he licks a stripe on your dripping cunt

You look down and he is watching your face contorts in pleasure as you throw your head back and start grinding at his face, he groans at your action

Your legs starts to tremble, he watches you fall apart for him, you can feel the familiar forming on your stomach, you moan wildly

He puts your legs over his shoulders

"Eddie- wait- what are you"

He continues his work by eating you in a new angle and you whimpered

"You're so g-good, Eddie- oh" you kept grinding at his face as he hums in agreement

You can't even speak that you're close

you screamed making the band snap at your core

Ragged breathing, with his mouth agape at the beautiful moment that you squirted at him

You put a hand over your head and you laugh breathlessly "I'm so sorry, Eddie- it just feels too good, I can't help it"

He licks your come and you watch him do it "I knew it, you're delicious"

He puts a finger over your stimulated cunt

"But I'm not done yet" he says with a pointed look on his face

"Eddie- you can't- oh" you protest

"Oh, yes I can, let me hear your sweet voice again" he has that evil look on his eyes, you can't escape from this

He plays with your clit, biting your bottom lip at the sensation

He puts another finger inside of you, he curled it up as he bullies your clit- making you close your legs but Eddie forbids you by doing that as he opens your legs wider

You arch your back, you hold his arms gripping on it for your dear life

"Fuck, Eddie- ah-" you moaned as your face scrunches up in pleasure

He finger fucks you like there's no tomorrow- he pulls it in and out

"Love it when you cry out for help" he smirks while he watches his fingers slip in and out of your pussy, making squelching sounds

"Hear that? sweetheart? That's all for me? I'm so honored"

"Y-yes" you moaned again "It's all just for you"

You hold his wrist as he finger fucks you deeply, making you grind at his fingers

"You're so fucking hot, goddamn" he grunts

He made you come, twice

You screamed his name again as you ride your high

He licks his fingers clean again with his mouth

You mewled while watching him do it

This feeling you're having, you need more, you want more, you can't let him go feeling like this

You reach out to undo his belt but he grabs your wrist

"Woah, there, sweetheart, I'm not going to do that unless you really sure of it" he drew circles on your wrists

Why is he so gentle?

You look straight into his eyes, he cares about you, there's that unreadable look again

"Eddie- please, I want this" you beg

He grins wickedly, he jerk his head towards your bedroom, you nod at him aggressively

He chuckles at your eagerness, he carried you with fine ease, he opens the door, placed you down on the lavender sheets of your bed

He locks the door, you lay down using your elbows to straighten yourself up as you look at him lustfully

He doesn't tear his eyes from yours as he undresses himself, settling only his boxers

He puts himself between your legs, your messy bun is now falling apart as you remove the tie and let it fall down onto your shoulders

The flowery scent from your hair lingers the air, he kisses you again but this time is much more hungrier

He pulls down the straps of your tank top, he palms your breasts again as you reached for the clip behind your back, you unclasped it

Never breaking the kiss as you remove the bra

Here you are completely naked for him, your pussy and your breasts full on display for him

He breaks the kiss just to check you out

"Oh...." He says, as he scratches the back of his neck

You blushed, he stares at you for so long, he chuckles

"My dear, I'm just admiring your beauty" he places his hand over his chest with that chocolate button eyes glimmering with so much kindness

He knows you're impatient so he removes his boxers with your lips apart, you look up from his gaze

"That's- tha- that's not gonna fit" you giggled nervously

"you can, honey- you'll survive" he chuckles evilly

"Just tell me to stop if it hurts okay?"

"Yes"

"Good girl, answering verbally"

You trust him, if you tell him to stop, he'll stop

He picks up his denim pants as he fishes down on its pockets, he has a condom? he bought it?

You push him down playfully using your feet, he laughs

"Do you knew that this is going to happen?" You snorted

"I always bring it, you know, just in case" he chuckles as he wiggle his eyebrows at you

"Who would've thought" you smiled feigning innocence

He kisses you again shutting you up, he slowly grabs his dick directing into your awaiting hole

You felt the tip invading your cunt, you gasp at the contact- you closed your eyes in pleasure

He's bringing himself in, you felt a twinge of pain and pleasure at the same time, but it feels so fucking good

"You okay? sweetheart?"

"Yeah, I'm okay, just give me a minute"

He kisses your forehead, he smirks when you starting squirming down

You can feel him splitting you open, the moment when every inch of him is now inside of you

"E-Eddie, you can m-move" you stuttered

"Attagirl" he praises you and you rolled your eyes back when he started thrusting

"Jesus, you're so tight" he moans

"Ah- Eddie- please keep going" you grip on his shoulder blades

He keep up in his pace as he slips in and out of you- you look down to see his dick disappearing inside of you and you moaned loudly

You hold onto him became aggressive as he's going faster and faster, your moans turn into a high pitch when he hit that sweet spot of yours

"Deeper" it's the only thing you can say

He watches your breasts bounce up and down as he makes love bites all over your chest and you bite down your bottom lip again, it might bleed at how hard you nibble it

"I think I'm going to stay in your pretty little cunt forever" he says as he places your legs over his shoulders

"Yes, please, you can stay forever" your eyes are heavy-lidded, you're so cock drunk

The moment he starts bottom out at the new position, you gasp and started moaning, your voice is hoarse

"That's it! Eddie- ah" you grip onto the sheets tightly

"You feel so a-amazing" you screamed his name again forming an "0" on your mouth

You arched your back and he can feel your legs shake, your eyes are now prickling with tears

"Aww, my sweet angel crying" he caresses your cheek

"Y-yeah, cause' you feel so good, E-Eddie" you can feel him so deep inside of you, hitting every spot that you didn't know that it could reach

He puts your legs down carefully as he grabs you, you're now straddling on his waist

"Ah- Oh-" you moaned and he laughs but it turns to moan when you started riding him

Your naked bodies pressed together, the warmth of him feels so nice, both foreheads a bit sweaty, you wrap your arms around him as you continue to ride him and he just groans

"Christ- you're good" he kisses your neck, you pulled him back to kiss him sloppily

He starts squeezing your breasts and you just whimpered, you placed your hands over his shoulders

You start grinding him and it brings another flow of arousal

"Eddie- god! Don't you fucking dare move!" You shout out loud

He just nods and licks his lips as he watches from your naked chest to your cunt, still so fucking wet is dripping down the sheets, you grinding him and he just loves it

Eddie brings you down as he fucks you roughly

"Eddie- wha-" you moaned, both skins slapping against each other, you embrace him

He places himself on the crook of your neck as he continues to thrust

The band on your stomach, snapped- you kept saying "Eddie, Eddie, Eddie"

He went undone the same time you screamed

He starts bottoming in and out slowly as you calm down

You kissed his head and you can feel him smiling at your touch

You start caressing his head

"How's that?" He asks turning his face to see you

You hummed "I feel wonderful" you turn your head onto the side, you smiled at him

He carefully peels himself off of you, you seethe at the pain but Eddie is so caring that he cleaned you up knowing that you can't move, your knees might buckle if you try

From your drawer, he grabs clean clothes, an oversized t-shirt and clean pair of underwear

He wears his boxers and goes back to your side, squeezing you tight and you smiled in content

You rest your head against his shoulder, both of you remain in comfortable silence

You're awaiting for a confession but you don't want to push him for it until he breaks it

"I-I have feelings for you, sweetheart, ever since you moved here"

Your eyes are now glossy, you're finally having the man of your dreams

"Me too, Eddie"

He turns to look at you, unbelievable expression sitting on his face

"Really?"

"Yeah"

"You do?"

"I love you, Eddie" you cupped his cheeks

"Oh" he smiles widely as he pulls you even closer

"Kinda wanted to that ever since"

"I'm very glad that you did"

"I just wanna say, you're smoking hot by doing that laundry earlier"

You laughed, "I'm all aware that you're checking me out, Eddie"

He became shy and embarrassed "Oops, I'm so sorry, I hope it doesn't come off like weird or anything, I don't wanna be a creep"

"Why didn't you say something before?"

"Because I didn't know that you like me that way!"

You giggled "I really really like you that way"

"So, you done all of that on purpose, huh?"

"Yup"

"Luring me in, leading me into your trap"

"Maybe"

He chuckles, "I love you too"

Your eyes flashes with so much adoration and gratefulness, you hugged him and he kisses your lips once more

"I wanna be drenched in yours again" he says as both of you fell asleep on each other's arms

[hwaightme]

Family for Hire (Ch.4)

(family for hire ml) (join series and/or permanent taglist!)

☀️ pairing: single dad!seonghwa x business woman!reader ☀️ genre: fluff, romance, family, domestic, fake marriage, slice of life ☀️ ch. summary: settling into a new routine came with its challenges, of course, but you expected that. what you did not expect, however, was for seonghwa to completely derail your plans for quietude. ☀️ ch. wordcount: 4.7k ☀️ ch. warnings/tags: language, questionably edited, hwa being one jealous boy, a ton of coffee, implied missing breakfast, food/eating, a wild woo and yeo appear, rash decisions, implied lack of sleep, let me know if anything else! ☀️ perma-taglist: @doom-fics @legohwas @acciocriativity @justhere4kpop @honey-lemon-goose @byuntrash101 @shakalakaboomboo @starillusion13 @hongthoven @cqndiedcherries @uwuheeseungie @hoshischeekss @frankenstein852 @charreddonuts @miriamxsworld @mingigoo @michel-angelhoe (can't be tagged: @ate-ez) ☀️ a/n: in anticipation of seonghwa day, hope you enjoy some more single dad hwa~ much love, any reblogs, comments, thoughts, feelings appreciated! apologies if the chapter is chaos, but hey... croissants and coffee!

Chapter 4: When Croissants Fly

Had you known that if you were to make it into the office on time and keep your promise of taking a certain kid to kindergarten, you would have to get up at hell o’clock in the morning – with hell being anything before six, you would have, respectfully, just left the conversation with standard goodbyes and not offered something out of the blue. Nothing could prepare you for the sheer amount of noise that a child could produce that early, when you were used to having an apartment to yourself, a nice, steaming, hot cup of coffee, and the human right to have fifteen minutes of sheer panic as you would realise if you did not hurry up you would be late. But even that panic was independent. You were not holding anyone up, no one was holding you up. You did not have to answer to anyone, nor did you have to be sitting there, in the driver’s seat, praying for a certain someone to ‘just… chill… out…”. Even though it had already been a three, now four days of you driving back and forth, back and forth like an expensive school bus, you still had a lot to get used to.

You glanced back as you stopped at a red light, catching Nari in deep conversation with her father about some drawing homework – something you were suddenly very jealous of. Why couldn’t adults have drawing homework instead of taxes? But nonetheless, no matter how simple the conversation was, each syllable was like a bass boosted hit of a dubstep remix in your cranium. Biting your lip, you attempted to focus on the sound of traffic outside and wondered if your fellow passengers would quieten down if you were to turn on the radio. You caught yourself hovering between being glad to be on better terms with Seonghwa and mini-Co, and wanting to let out an elaborate string of curses that had accumulated since your coffee machine broke this morning, and you, being a silly optimist when it came to appliances, had no alternative of source of energy fuel. This discomfort was apparently obvious enough for Seonghwa to pick up on it, and at the next red light you hear him tell his daughter to wait a second, and call out to you:

“Y/N, are you okay?” the note of concern in his voice made your heart ache and guilt for being so inwardly irritated spread through you. Peering out at the concrete jungle, you tapped the arm rest a couple of times, pondering the question before asking one back.

“What, do I look unequivocally dubious?” you tried to remain as neutral as possible, since Nari did not need to know what passive aggressive behaviour was, so early in her childhood, however Seonghwa was too finely attuned to emotional landscapes for your own good. Perhaps he could even give Yunho a run for his hard-earned ‘through thick and thin’ friend money.

“Oh, no! Not at all, it’s just that, um, I mean, this routine is quite new and must be very troublesome, so-”

“Do I look tired, is that it?” you interrupted gently, Seonghwa’s obvious beating around the bush turning out to be rather amusing, alleviating some of the headache that the day had been providing you with so far. It was hard not to notice how his upper body stiffened as he stared back at you through the rear-view mirror. Deciding to not keep up the limbo of whether he offended you or not, you cracked the brightest smile you could muster, and winked, “I know I do, don’t worry. I am an early bird by caffeine, and the love of my life broke today.”

“The love… of your life?” Seonghwa repeated cautiously, acutely reactive to your particular choice of words. Choosing to not mention how he leaned closer to you, with even his daughter shooting him an inquisitive glance, you simply elaborated on your morning ordeal.

Amidst your dramatic recounting of your battle with the ‘coffee monster’ you had made Nari burst into a fit of giggles, which was a win in your unpaid parenting work experience, though judging by Seonghwa’s unchanging pained expression, something about the moral of the story seemed to not quite fit the unspoken fairy tale standard, and as such, you trailed off into an awkward silence.

“Did you have… breakfast, at least?”

“Sure?”

“Okay, then what was it?”

Somehow in that moment you felt as though you were not supposed to be sat in the driver's seat, and instead in a detention, or in a dim corner for a long timeout. One step away, and you could almost hear Seonghwa saying ‘I promise I am not going to get mad at you if you just tell me the truth’, a notion that made you shudder. What if, unbeknownst to you, he was the kind of parent that would snap too? There was no guarantee that he wasn’t. Many a times you had seen perfectly happy and peaceful kids coming home to… much less than happy families, so if he was going to shout at you, you should just take it. Your grip on the steering wheel grew tighter and you bit your lower lip. The thud of your heartbeat in your temples returned as you pressed on the gas pedal and accelerated, only a couple of blocks away from Nari’s kindergarten already.

“Good stuff.” You brushed the interrogation off, not because you were uncomfortable with your choices, but because it was more than likely that Seonghwa would be, and as such, you ran the risk of exploding in a defensive mode and exposing Nari to a not so pleasant argument. And you were not about that life. You were not into recycling old experiences into new hurt.

Fortunately, Seonghwa got the hint instantly. Like father, like daughter – Nari, upon seeing the young man’s reaction, took it as a sign that she needed to stay put and reserve playtime for later. The rest of the journey crawling through the somnolent sunlit streets was spent in complete silence. You watched and waved back to a once again excited little gremlin, as she hopped out of the car and shouted for her dad to stay back, because she was ‘grown’ and ‘independent’. He had inadvertently shot you a glance upon hearing the words, enjoying the game of pretending that Nari had taken after you a bit too much. You had not looked back, and even how you were supposedly following his precious girl’s run to the front doors had transformed into a thousand-yard stare. Once again, you were in your own world.

“Hey, mind if I move up front?” he pointed at the seat and tilted his head, jolting you out of your turbulent musings.

“Yeah, sure thing. Okay.”

At this proximity, you swore you could catch a hint of his perfume. The vanilla, floral notes and something you could not quite put a finger on was very memorable, and very him. You took a deep inhale and leaned back into the driver’s seat, ready to commence the journey back.

“You can… actually you know what you can drop me off in the business district!” a weight off your shoulders as he suddenly changed your plans for a smoother ride. Masking your relief, you asked for the handsome man to confirm.

“Are you sure? You will need to switch lines… once if I am not mistaken?”

As he ran a hand through his hair, fighting a pesky strand that was threatening to get into his eye, you took the opportunity to study him. Black shirt with a just barely visible patterned design, and the top button undone to reveal three silver necklaces, carefully selected to complement one another. Black trousers, a loose straight cut, falling onto the chunky black and white converse sneakers. And again, that damn perfume that you could not explain to your brain. You did not want to be creepy, but tilted your head towards the man to try and figure out what that mysterious note was. At least you had your question going for you, and your leaning in could be interpreted simply as interest in his response.

“True, but I have some business, ha-ha wow apt, to attend to in the area so…” did not sound like it, but you were not about to argue just when you were in hot water about your morning.

“Okay.” You rolled out of parking, and drove back out onto the street, now bound for your not quite beloved office.

Ever since Monday, you had cemented yourself as one of the first to arrive in the office, and almost always the first to arrive within your assigned team, which had definitely left a good impression on your manager who openly praised you for being so diligent – much to the dismay of the co-workers who enjoyed gossiping about you. But you could not care less since you and Yunho did the exact thing except in reverse. There were some benefits to waking up at hell o’clock, even if it came with socio-gastronomical sacrifices. Which apparently, Seonghwa made his mission to reverse as he sharply turned his head and made a pointing gesture.

“And I’ll buy you breakfast. Y/N don’t you dare argue with me I have access to some dark magic.”

“Like?”

“Here comes the airplane. Wildly effective. So, if you decline then do expect a projectile croissant.” He threatened, stifling a chuckle.

“What if I want to see a croissant fly?” you countered, shaking your head and gleaming, the greyness of the streets which you navigated not appearing so soul draining anymore.

“Well then I will organise that just for you.”

Seonghwa was not sure what had gotten into him, but his desire to step in and help was nearly unbearable. You were every bit a business person, rushing and dedicating your life to your career even if you did have friends and family. But as he knew from having been working together with someone who had an awfully similar mindset to you, such people often forgot to take care of themselves. It was as if you deemed yourselves either not worthy of time spent, or you never felt the need nor the appeal of caring. And if you were to be acting in the role of his wife, the last thing Seonghwa wanted to see was you masking a perpetual misery. You were striving for best behaviour when you were interacting with Nari, showing a playful and easy-going side of you that he thought that he would never get the chance to see again, and generally were working hard to impress his daughter. But it seemed that you needed a push in the right direction of how exactly you could make him even happier than he already was.

You were dangerously attractive when you were driving, he concluded. The unwavering focus on the road, paired with reflexive movements as you reacted to what you had probably predicted ages in advance was making Seonghwa unreasonably flustered, and he had to force himself to look at the lines on the road instead of constantly looking at you. You had been one of the few people in university who had been a ‘designated driver’, along with your closest friend through the years, since most of the others dismissed the skill as something for a ‘later time’ and not immediately important for studies. It had amused him when these same people would then beg for you to effectively become a carpooling service. Even more amusing was that you had always had the guts to decline.

Now, your driving style had gotten even more refined, more natural. It was clear that you had long passed the stage of novice driver, too many miles and experiences under your wheels to still be considered a learner. Cruising through the city, cruising through life. Seonghwa doubted that you would remember, but there had been one time when you two had been sat, just like this, listening to some indie music that you had said helped you focus. But now the silence you shared was heavier, the impact of every action having the potential to cause greater damage. As such, he kept the memory to himself, instead drifting into the pleasant rumble of the car engine.

Right when the sun washed over Seonghwa’s side of the car after having hopped out from behind a skyscraper, forcing him to flip open the visor, it hit you. Coffee. Of course that last note had to be coffee.

With a croissant in one hand an a steaming takeaway cup of coffee in the other, mother goose in the form of a cheery Seonghwa ushered you towards your office, wishing you a good day at least twice, while you kept on trying to explain the best way to get to the metro station as, clearly, he had not planned his ‘business’ out in the slightest.

If you had been aware that his business was to make sure you had at least some form of nourishment and perked up to a satisfactory level, you would have probably thrown hands, so the young man had to resort to being cryptic, rocking on his feet, hands stuffed in his pockets as he said one last goodbye to you and followed your form as you entered your building, crossed a large reception area, passed some security turnstiles and finally, were swallowed by an elevator. So this was how this life was.

He closed his eyes and listened to the industrial noise. The whirring of cars all around him, construction of a new residential complex, designed not for aesthetic purposes, but to eventually raise the land price, the chatter of people who made the financial world, and as such the world itself turn, the whistling of a strong breeze that hit the top floors, zooming past antennae, wiring and air conditioning exhausts. A beautiful, cold world that he had previously imagined himself in. Seonghwa peeked out once again to take in the surroundings: the glossy windows, the sleek modern architecture and abstract expressionist sculptures installed in miniature street squares. Funny how, as he had seen you enter one of the many ant houses, a sense of clarity washed over him. This was your habitat. Your home. Not his. And he should not beat himself up over it. Especially when you were so much more passionate about it, and as such so much more deserving of the best space here.

You were there, behind one of the many windows, working hard for success. And now, he was part of that strenuous operation, at least by a fraction. That was what he could do, and how he could contribute. The possibility of you and him collaborating in enviable synchronicity was an exciting prospect, now that he could feel the space in which you worked. He could handle his tasks, you could handle yours – the domestic daydreaming left him breathless as he began to amble in a random direction, not taking his eyes off the bright blue sky.

Except his blissful state of ideation did not last long enough for him to plot as far as he would like. Two men in what had to be designer office wear were standing next to him at a pedestrian crossing, waiting for the light to turn green. But that in itself was harmless. It was the fact that the shorter of the two, the one who was explaining something very animatedly to his colleague, practically painting a scene with his hands, suddenly mentioned your name – each syllable resounding like a gunshot.

Could it be someone else? Maybe there was another Y/N out there, in this same district – there were thousands of people in these offices, so the chances were definitely not zero. But as Seonghwa discreetly listened in, it became clearer and clearer – these were your colleagues, and they were talking about you. And in a way that set off every single alarm bell in Seonghwa’s totally mission-focused brain.

“Look Yeo, I’m telling you she is super cute. And I don’t give me that look. So what if she agreed to a meeting only on Friday? It doesn’t mean you have zero chance.”

Sure you do. Seonghwa mentally responded, but furrowed his brows as he realised that he was being protective of someone who was not actually his someone, but a fake someone who, in reality, he was conducting questionable business with. Technically, that meant that you could date in secret – as long as it was hidden from the eyes of your superiors. Would you do it? There wasn’t exactly any infidelity to speak of if you did, since he was just an old college friend and a complicated present social tie-up. No. No you couldn’t. This kind of connection would risk your promotion, wouldn’t it? Whatever these fiends were plotting could very well ruin your career, and he, acting in the role of your husband, had to think of a strategy to put a stop to this.

“It just means that she is a busy woman, on her grind, achieving and thriving – just your type, isn’t that right?” the enthusiastic man who, much like Seonghwa, was dressed head to toe in black, and sported a long parted fringe that framed his beaming face, continued his encouragements. Except the mention of types, he was right, at least. You were busy. Too busy to consider them, so they should make their damn exit.

The stubborn light was still red as cars continued to dash past the trio. The man by the name of Yeo, which Seonghwa assumed was an abbreviation or a nickname, was good looking enough for him to be irritated. A muscular physique, with perfect skin and impeccably styled locks that highlighted his features that looked to have been sculpted by some aesthetic deities… yes, this man had to disappear out of yours and Seonghwa’s shared life immediately. Seonghwa did not need a man he ‘did not have to worry about’ right there in the same office space as you.

“Mm, right.”

A man of few words, huh? Maybe that was his problem. Then there was a chance that you would drop him fast as lightning – you liked your philosophical discussions, always did and if he could not formulate an opinion, he was automatically out of the game-

“But I do not wish to be a burden for her, Wooyoung. As much as I admire and respect her, I am only a slot in her timetable at the moment. And whilst I appreciate your support, we should remain realistic and pace ourselves.”

Shit. His voice was deep and dependable. And he had fantastic rhythm to his speech. Uh oh. Seonghwa suddenly wished that he was still in the café with you, and had, instead of letting you go to have the strong double shot of bitterness at your desk, insisted that you spent some more time together. Then he would not hear this atrocity, and since the café was not far from the building, they might have detected you in the shop front window.  Would have been a win-win situation. Alas, this Yeo, and his equally ambitious friend Wooyoung had to be combatted in more creative ways.

Seonghwa’s hands moved on their own accord as he took out his mobile phone, scrolling to the contact he had saved as ‘wife’, with not one but two upwards graph emojis as an ode to your job, and clicking the call button. As he heard you answer with a cautious, whispered hello and an elaboration that he should wait a second as you moved to a conference room, the initial wave of panic subsided and he relaxed into your tone.

“What is it, Hwa?” if only he could loop how you said his nickname and listen to it whenever he wanted… no, he must remain focused.

“Hey, Y/N!” he purposefully spoke louder, spotting in his peripherals that he had caught the attention of the duo. Their conversation had lulled, and they were pretending to be looking at the light to cross, but in reality, were tuning their imaginary antennae to pick up more of the conversation.

“Yes, ‘tis me. And we literally just spoke, what’s up?” he heard a sliding of a door, and the ambiance changing to that of a closed space, giving your voice more space to bloom and show its colour. Seonghwa smiled, stalling a bit before picking up a simple conversation topic, but pointing towards a mock level of intimacy that a certain Yeo should never reach.

“How’s the breakfast?” he refrained from chuckling as he saw Wooyoung appear particularly bewildered.

“Honestly it was exactly what I needed right now, I am already feeling so much better. Thank you for it, and for treating me, really.”

“Oh, not a problem at all! Anything for you.” Even though he inwardly cringed at the phrase, it seemed to have a desired effect on his audience who exchanged confused glances. At the same time, you moved the phone away from you and snorted in laughter.

“You sound so awkward right now what the hell? You good?” he needed to think fast. How could he avoid saying that he was ‘overstepping boundaries and barely a week into a fake relationship was acting lowkey possessive of you to the point where he felt the need to assert dominance over people who simply mentioned you’? That was right. What was going to annoy you enough to let go of his questionable behaviour?

“Uhm… well, could you point me in the direction of the metro again?” Bingo. The groan that you let out, and undoubtedly followed by a rolling of the eyes, was enough for him to confirm that you fully bought the little fib. He swore he heard that same man, Wooyoung, scoff, while Yeo remained suspiciously quiet.

“Are you kidding me? I literally just explained that from the café, you take a right, and then-”

“Ah, a right… so that’s where the problem is…” he continued, intentionally adding sprinklings of cluelessness to his act.

“You can’t be serious… Park Seonghwa where are you?” strict, but adorably concerned for his wellbeing, you asked.

“At a crossing.”

“What crossing?”

“There is a fancy fountain on the other side of the street.”

“You’re there? Damn, you know what, stay put, I will walk you to the station seeing as you are directionally challenged.” And with that, he could make out the sound of footsteps on a carpeted floor, a rustling as you probably pressed the phone to your shirt, distant ‘I’ll be back in a bit’ and, in a matter of moments, clicking and a much stronger echo to each sound.

“I’ll take that label and wear it with pride, Y/N. Then, see you soon, yeah?”

“Uh-huh, oh directionally challenged man. I’ll be there in five. Stay put and don’t get lost in the square please. Like, find a bench or something and don’t move.” A ding of an elevator. You ended the call. And now, each stride like that of a victor in a ruthless battle, he overtook the two men who were not so discreetly gawking at him, with the goal of finding some bench in the square to sit on and await your arrival.

Seonghwa thought that his performance was over, and relaxed into the seat that he had stumbled upon: partially in the shade of a green maple, but still welcoming some of the more amiable sun rays. But little did he know that, instead of this being an epilogue to the indirect interaction with your colleagues that threatened his pride, he had just inadvertently completed a tutorial, and now was in for a game of a lifetime.

“Uhm, excuse me? Pardon for my very rude behaviour, but I believe I overheard you mentioning a certain Y/N that works around here?”

Seonghwa raised his head, which had previously been resting on the back of the bench, only to discover that the two men he had perceived as a threat to his status, in particular that Greek statue in the form of Yeo, were standing right in front of him, expectant.

“Yes… I did indeed. And who are you, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Ah, before we introduce ourselves, would you confirm if this is L/N Y/N you were talking to?”

“…Yes?” Seonghwa stood up, in a last-minute effort to be polite towards the gentlemen, who only a few minutes ago, he wanted to erase from the planet, or at least from your plans. They accepted the gesture and gave him space.

The sun was beating down on Seonghwa more aggressively than before, making him wonder whether this was due to it actually getting hotter, or because he was more and more enticed by the idea of the ground opening up beneath him and letting him exit the conversation.  

“Right, sorry for the suddenness. It’s just that we are her colleagues. Well, from different departments but still. I am Jung Wooyoung. Human Resources.” A bow, another bow. Wooyoung did not look too pleased, clearly reading his every micromovement.

“I’m Kang Yeosang. Cybersecurity.” Passive enough, neither of the two cared enough to try and be threatening.

“And you?” Wooyoung inquired, raising his eyebrows.

“Ah yes, apologies. Park Seonghwa. Department not found.”

Polite chuckles. Dead silence. Wind whistling. Where were you? The three fumbled for anything to say, finally settling on the weather, and then moving towards neutral work topics. Evidently, Wooyoung had a lot more to say, and with each passing minute, the coil on which said questions were contained was being wound tighter and tighter, until it was ready to damn near detonate.

“What is this gang meet up, huh?” finally, you appeared from behind a tall hedge, your work pass hanging around your neck from a lanyard, swaying with each step you took. Once you approached the group, you looked at each member of the trio, pausing when you saw Yeosang.

“Ah hello! You must be Yeosang, right? I guess we are meeting sooner than expected.” Chuckling in pure corporate, you nodded in greeting.

“Indeed, we are. Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

“So, Y/N, care to explain… this mister Seonghwa?” Wooyoung interjected, his curiosity getting the best of him.

This was deeply disconcerting, you concluded. There was an element to this ordeal that you were missing, and this element was crucial to understanding how Wooyoung was going to proceed. He was smart, perceptive. You could even dare to say ‘cunning’. And it was apparent that he had caught onto something, and was not going to let go until everything came to light. You bit the inside of your cheek as you glanced at Seonghwa, who was doing everything in his power to avoid eye contact. There was one clean way out, and one that was inevitably going to make you, and the man in front of you snowball into something only fate could decide the outcome of. While chances were slim, nevertheless you took the first option…

“Well, you already got to know one another. I’d say that’s enough. Now, I need to take this man to the metro so if you don’t mind, we will be heading over yonder-” …only for it to fail miserably as Wooyoung saw through you.

“Oh no, no, like… who is this? A friend? A boyfriend? I need details, you are having breakfast and stuff together… who is he?”

If looks could kill, then you would be a fake widow. It did not take much brain power to figure out that the conversation you had over the phone had been staged for whatever reason. And now, you were in a mess where your little sitcom for a promotion might shut down… unless you committed. Fully. Wooyoung was staring you down. Yeosang had one eyebrow raised and arms crossed, judging. And Seonghwa was only a few levels away from impersonating Edvard Munch’s ‘The Scream’. To hell with all of this. Deep breath in. Breath out.

“My husband.”

[lorenzobane]

Bubbly

(A/N I'm traveling again, so you know what that means! 20-minute fic time. Sorry in advance for any spelling/grammar errors. Thank you to @wanderingwriter87 for prompting this one!)

“Are you flirting with me?” 

Garak blinked. He hadn’t expected that response; in fairness to Bashir’s position, he had just dropped a rather obvious innuendo. But he had done that before, and it had never resulted in any action…

And, of course, he must consider the answer as well. The answer, the truthful one anyway, was yes- of course. But what reason could Bashir have for asking him like this? To pursue a relationship? To tell him to stop flirting altogether? 

Garak internally groaned at the thought. Even if he couldn’t have Bashir, the idea of never bantering with him again was unfortunate and borderline unbearable. 

Finally, after what he was sure was an incriminating pause, he said, “would you like me to be?” 

Bashir gave him a bland, exasperated look. “Just answer the question.” 

Garak attempted to maintain eye contact, but in this regard, as with so many other things, Bashir was an anomaly. He wondered what it was about those gold and green eyes that made him want to flinch back. 

“Well, my dear–” 

“It really is a yes or no question, Garak.” 

Garak huffed. “Is there a reason you’re asking me this in the middle of the day? At lunch of all places?” 

Now that he wasn’t hiding his secret, Bashir's eyes betrayed his intense intelligence at every turn. They’re positively gleaming as he said, “so you can’t run.” 

Garak couldn’t deny that he felt remarkably like prey. 

“No, Doctor,” Garak lied. “Of course not. You have such an overactive imagination sometimes.” 

Bashir’s face changed again to an expression Garak was irritated to find he was familiar with. The face he makes when he knows he’s about to win. 

“Liar,” is all Bashir said as he sipped his drink. 

“Well, if you know the answer,” Garak couldn’t help but complain, “why did you bother asking?” 

Bashir smiled, “I was curious, I suppose. I figured you’d deny it, but you can never be one hundred percent certain.” 

“What a pleasure it is to help you in the pursuit of science, Doctor,” Garak said without pleasure. In fact, he started to feel rather exposed. Their game had been blown up, just as he had become familiar with the ground in their relationship. 

“I’ve been flirting with you, too,” Bashir said simply. 

“Oh.”

“Oh,” Bashir mocked. “So there you have it.’ 

Garak blinked at him again and picked up his fork. He wasn’t quite sure where this left them. 

“So,” Bashir prompted. 

“So?” 

“So, now what?” 

“Now…? Doctor, perhaps it has escaped your notice, but we’re at war. Now nothing.” 

“Well, that’s a defeatist attitude.” 

“You’re the one who said our odds of survival was 32.7%.” 

“Makes seizing the day all the more important, don’t you think?” 

Garak inclined his head in acknowledgment. “That may be true, but there is also the reality that we share a living space. This is hardly–” 

“We may not get another chance,” Bashir said, suddenly very intense. “This is now or never, and I don’t want it to be never.” 

Garak glanced helplessly around, but all he saw were the listless faces of all the other members of the Defiant crew in various states of dissociated eating. 

“Garak,” Julian said a little suddenly, almost nervously. “I don’t want to push you into anything. I know I have that tendency. But… But… If you are interested, I packed a mini holoprojector before we left. I thought maybe the crew would need some cheering up. After our shifts tonight, I thought we could perhaps… Watch one. Together, that is.” 

Garak paused again before he leaned in closer. “I smuggled in a bottle of spring wine.” 

Julian’s answering smile was luminescent. “So… I’ll see you tonight?”

Garak smiled back. “Only the Jem'hadar could keep me away.” 

That was a simple, grim reality. 

Julian opened his mouth to respond when his comm beeped, alerting him that his lunch break was over at the same time that Garak’s did. 

“Duty calls,” Julian said. 

“For both of us.” 

“Stay safe on the bridge. I’ll see you tonight.” 

Garak felt something flutter in him as he nodded. The war raged on, Tain was dead, Cardassia was in danger, and yet… 

And yet… He felt a dangerous, almost cloying feeling bubble up in him. Something that oddly almost reminded him of root beer. 

Federation insidiousness at its finest, he thought with a shockingly obvious grin.

[askastillyquestion]

Any and all headcanons of Adrien😫

I'm all ears 👁👂🏾

The way I like writing Adrien is blending his Chat Noir self with the canon parts of himself that he tries to show.

As for Maribat Adrien, give his man some love even if it is in the form of angst. He should be more of a 'main character' in fics.

Okay, mini rant aside. Here are some attempts at headcanons.

The Bio-Parent for Adrien should be Oliver Queen, Barry Allen, or a random af rogue that Emilie marries (or a mix of these)

The reason I see Oliver Queen is because he could keep that 'high class' type of thing with Oliver while dropping the crappy parent. This would also open up fun stuff like Adrien and Roy brotherhood or even romance so Roy truly becomes part of the family.

Barry Allen is because Adrien Allen. Okay for real though. Speedster Adrien just sits right in mind alongside Bat/Super Mari and Lantern Alya. He feels like a speedster. Also, think of the possible angst of Barry losing Iris and Adrien getting a positive experience of no longer having his mother.

As for the rogue thing, I just love the idea of Emilie sticking it to Gabriel and escaping. Adrien getting his quirkiness from Riddler or having a weird trait from Penguin would be so interesting to see.

Adrien makes more sense to be Adopted by Bruce than Marinette does

Okay, okay, put the pitchforks and torches down.

If you are taking the direction of Adrien's parents staying the same and Gabriel being revealed, no one can tell me that Adrien doesn't deserve to be adopted more than Marinette.

I understand that guardianship is super hard on Marinette but letting her parents stay alive instead of murdering them or turning them bad feels like it would give such a great connection moment. Let her grieve all of the time she has lost to fighting Hawkmoth by confiding into her parents. They're so accepting that I just wish they got more love (yes the Lila convincing them easily isn't good but the show makes her op at times with that).

Adrien might not fit the appearance quota of Black-hair, Blue-eyes but he fits that tragic tale. Why take Marinette and put her through everything to seem 'worthy of adoption' by Bruce when Adrien is living that life already? Usually, it is because writers feel more comfortable with Mari and the show does Adrien dirty.

The last bit on this one is I can see Adrien and Bruce having this awkwardness that they have to work through in order to connect. Adrien is thrilled to have someone who cares for him again, but needs to learn to work through the thoughts of 'am I just going to lose a parent again?' It just screams potential!

Adrien enjoys playing piano when he's not forced to

This one is relatively 'simple' compared to the others, but I feel like Adrien would use music as a way to express his feelings.

In the show, we see him play with Kitty Section and it feels like he enjoys it. That is something that Gabriel isn't forcing him to learn and he's enjoying it. Could that be from a general enjoyment of not having to do something purely because Gabriel says so? Yes.

Adrien continuing to play would be nice to see. Let him take one thing out of the experiences that Gabriel forces him into. The modeling being a thing he continues has always felt weird to me unless it is to help Marinette and she appreciates it. Otherwise, it just feels off to me.

That took so long to answer because I got stolen away halfway through but hopefully those scratch some itches! Adrien deserves more love in the fandom so I will always try to come up with ways to appreciate it.

Thanks for the ask!

[sparkles-rule-4eva]

Yes, I'm dropping part 1 of a silly mini fic series at 11 p.m. No one ask. I really dk why.

"Sonic's Weird Napping Places"

Part 1 - Tails

(since it's canon that Sonic naps in weird places :3)

"Hey, Knuckles, have you seen Sonic?" Tails asked over his communicator.

"Why would I have seen him?" Knuckles' tired and grouchy voice questioned back. Tails cringed a little, wondering if he'd accidentally woken the echidna from a nap with his call. "He doesn't typically visit Angel Island without you and the Tornado. He can't even get up here."

"Just a simple question," Tails grumbled. "I can't find him or get ahold of him. Thanks anyway."

Knuckles hung up without saying goodbye.

Rolling his eyes, the two-tailed fox turned off the screen of his communicator and glanced around. He'd just needed to ask Sonic where something was, something that he'd lent him a week ago or so and hadn't yet gotten back. Sonic had said he'd only need the tool for a day or two, but he was pretty spacey, and had probably just forgotten to bring it back.

Except he couldn't find Sonic anywhere. Sure, it was hard to keep track of him when he was constantly travelling around and running literal laps around the entire planet for fun, but this was what communicators were for, right?!

He guessed Sonic's communicator had either died, or Sonic had shut it down.

Tails couldn't continue working on his current project (among at least 50 others that were temporarily set aside) until he got that tool back, so he resorted to checking places that he knew his brother liked to relax at here and there. On the roof of his lab? Nope. At Amy's house? Nada. On one of the sun chairs at the local pool? No.

And Angel Island was already a no as well, according to Knuckles . . .

He was wandering back and forth in the yard in front of his lab, pondering where else Sonic might be, when he suddenly heard the sound of soft snores coming from within the top leafy branches of one of the nearby trees.

No way.

Tails lifted off into the air and flew over to the spot in the tree where the familiar noises were coming from. Sure enough, slumped on one of the branches and almost entirely hidden behind the mass of leaves was Sonic, sound asleep.

"Sonic!" Tails yelled, not bothering to be quiet, and his brother jolted awake so fast he nearly toppled out of the tree.

Upon regaining his senses and realizing what was going on, Sonic blinked a couple times at Tails. "Wassup?" he asked sleepily, closing his eyes again as he yawned and tried to get comfortable again.

"Have you been up here this whole time?" Tails demanded.

Sonic blinked again. "Define 'this whole time'."

"Uh, the past two hours?!"

His brother gave up trying to regain his previous comfortable position and sat up on the tree branch, glancing around as if trying to figure out what time it was. "Maybe. I didn't check the time before. What do you need?"

"That tool I lent you a week ago. I need it back." Tails shook his head in slight disbelief. "How is that even comfortable?"

"You'd be surprised." Sonic grinned. "Anyway, yeah, sorry for forgetting the tool, lil bro. I'll just go grab it for ya." Without another word he hopped off the branch, hit the ground after a solid second of falling, and took off in a blast.

Another second passed before he reappeared, the tool in hand, just as Tails was touching back down. "Here ya go!"

And then he was off again, no doubt searching for another place to continue his afternoon nap.

Tails shook his head with a grin and a sigh. Sonic was weird. But that wasn't really a bad thing.

[baby--b4t]

hihi !! fishies back for the first time in a while i’ve been super duper busy wif stuffs ><

anyways I has a new mini fic ask dat I wan share ^^

baby/toddler regressor !mreader x haitham cg who’s baby just wants to cling to him like his shadow, always shyly peering out from behind his legs/back.

the dynamic feels v black cat x snow leopard parent which is so silly to my lil kitty brain ><

-🐠

hi again fishie!! i know i say i love all of your little ideas but this one hits home so hard /pos (๑>ᴗ<๑) im very much this kind of regressor as well and i think haitham is very good at dealing with littles like this! sorry if this seems a little self indulgent-

pov: cg haitham doesnt get personal space /silly

Today had been a lazy day for you and Alhaitham. There wasnt much to do to keep yourselves busy, so you spent most of your day laying around with Alhaitham as he read a book he was caught up in. You had gotten a pretty good nap in as well.

A sudden knock at the door caught Alhaithams attention. He tried to gently pry you off of him without waking you up, yet he had failed. You woke up and were insistent on staying with him, whining whenever he tried to get you to let go. He finally gave up fighting with your grumpy self and let you tail behind him like a lost puppy as he answered the door.

A simple package was delivered to Alhaitham. Judging by its size it was probably just another book or two. Alhaitham had shut the door and turned around to look at you. An endearing expression formed on his face as he sighed.

"You seem to like my personal space, hm?" He teased, gently cupping your face so you would look at him. "When will you enjoy your own personal space, prince? You cant be in mine forever, you know."

The last comment caused you to whine, turning your face to bury it against Alhaithams palm. He laughed softly at your grumpy behavior, knowing you were still trying to wake up from your nap. He guided you back towards the living room where you two had been all day.

"Can you sit on the couch for a moment so I can cut open the package? I wont be more than a couple minutes." Alhaitham asked, hoping the promise of his return would be enough to satisfy your little mind. It worked at first, but he wasnt in his study for more than a minute before he felt you lean against his back. He hadnt even opened the package yet.

"Bubs," Alhaitham spoke softly, turning around to hold you properly. "What did I ask you to do?" He made sure to keep his tone soft so you didnt think you were in trouble.

"Sit on da couch.." You mumbled in response, heavily using Alhaitham to stand upright. It wasnt fair that he was just so comfortable, yet he wanted to leave you alone for a few minutes. It was just too cruel to try and sit through.

The feeling of your arms wrapping around Alhaitham to hug him made his heart soften a bit. He let out a small sigh and just accepted you clinging onto him again. He quickly opened the package and took out one of the books from inside of it, leading you back to the living room.

You soon found yourself sitting in his lap as you asked question after question about his new book. What was it about? Why were there so many pages? Did he buy it for fun or for work? All of your little questions were answered swiftly, despite Alhaitham finding them rather silly to ask. He just loved that you enjoyed doing everything with him.