#I should really probably make a tag for him.. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jollyhunter · 2 days ago

Text

BETH - THIS FIC IS AN UNLABLED ANGST BOMB

Granted, I should have probably expected it when reading the tag for the "season 3" setting but for some reason my brain skipped the fact that that's the "I'm going to Hell" arc and GOD I loved the angst. It's subtle but pre and post Hell Dean Angst never fails to make me emotional.

And this was done so perfectly well with your setup at the laundry-place and reader being emotional (and let's be real, periods make us (or at least me lol) 10 times more emotional and sometimes anxious)- so the timing for this 'talk' really couldn't have been better.

Oh and this had me stop for a moment:

You’d put your all into it, but his hands are hovering at your waist and you know his eyes are wide open, watching.

I simply loved the detail of Dean's hand hovering at her waist, eyes wide. I could picture him perfectly in my head. I don't think I ever told you, but you always manage to capture his little movements so well!!!

Thank god he gets it now. Only, “How?” he’s asking next, and you could shake him. Why do guys have to be so dumb?

Oh god I snorted so loud my dog woke up and looked at me very concerned.

Green eyes pierce your mortified ones, because now you have to tell him, ask him, and you’re licking over your lips, trying to moisten them so the words have something to slip on.

I don't know why but I loved this description. So beautiful. Chefskiss.

The ending is bittersweet and the way they decide to keep it what it is witout having to label it felt just perfect. 🥰 (Plus we all know that Dean will return from Hell soooooo... White picket fence life for the happy, unlabled couple? Yeah, I know, what a dreamer I am. 😂)

Whatever This Is

Read on AO3 || Main Masterlist

Dean Winchester x Reader

You’ve been sleeping with Dean for weeks. You never established what you were doing, just going with the flow, until a vulnerable moment makes for an awkward tangent to ask and find out 2.3k words

Tags/Warnings: fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers, miscommunication, menstruation, cramping, embarrassing moment for reader, lil bit of humour, Dean is unfazed and an absolute sweetheart, set somewhere in Season 3

Four AM and you’re freezing your tits off. Miserable. Cramping. You give Dean a petulant pout as he waits patiently on the sidewalk for you. Instant regret when you remember he’s currently the sweetest man on earth, navigating through your wrath in his stride, and doesn’t deserve whatever this is.

It’s not his fault your ovaries are punishing you for another successful thwart at reproduction. Not his fault your body is replicating a thousand knives, stabbing you at once in the same spot, even though you’ve had a dose of tylenol.

Except it is.

He’s half to blame because he wanted the sex, too. There’s an IUD shoved up in there because you decided long ago that taking the pill was far too risky in this business, and he gets to go in without suiting up thanks to past you.

You cannot have a kid right now. Not only are you both too young and this is far, far too new, but there’s the little detail about him being sentenced to hell to top things off. And you, stopping at nothing to stop it, when you’re not a whimpering puddle of hormones.

You’re quite the pair.

“C’mon, sweetheart.” He pries your bundle of soiled clothes from your tight grip and offers out his other hand.

“I can manage from here,” you say, but he shakes his head. Pulls you out Baby’s door and through the one belonging to the laundromat, setting you down on the row of chairs in the middle without another word.

He drapes his leather jacket over your shoulders, wrapping you in warmth and whiskey. Sweats, also his, that had hung off your hips, now balloon at your sides.

He’s wearing what he went to sleep in. His hair, still road worn at the back as he feeds your laundry into the machine.

Your cheeks are warmer. You were all for throwing a tonne of salt on your pjs and lighting them up, but his superhuman powers of simply existing had him rapping on the bathroom door before you’d so much as rinsed the evidence away under the faucet.

He saunters back over to you and sits down with a groan. Makes a spectacle when he throws his arm over yours and kisses your temple. “You good?” he says, and all you can do is nod. “Nothing to be embarrassed about. S’only natural.”

You lean into him. Let his body further warm yours and your nostrils with the added fruity smell of Tide. “You didn’t bleed all over the place.”

“Not this time.” He shrugs.

But you’re still not convinced. The blood on the motel sheets didn’t come from your arm or your leg. It came from your hoo-ha, and while he’s right, it’s nothing to be ashamed of because it is perfectly natural. It happened in the same motel room you were sharing with Sam. In the bed you were sharing with Dean. And it happened even though you’d been prepared.

Worst of all, he’d put his hand in it, and while he insisted it wasn’t an issue, you’ve only been sleeping with him for three weeks. Came about after a drunken confession that he was scared shitless ‘bout going to hell, and it kind of stuck. You don’t even know if he is that to you, which makes this ten times worse.

“Hey.” He nudges you with his hip, squeezes his arm tighter. “We’re busting out of this place today. It’s not like they’ll even remember you if we stay here again.” He tries like that’s the problem.

You know it’s to make you smile, and you appreciate it, you do, but, “That’s not what I’m worried about,” you say.

“Then what is?”

He releases his hold on you. Leans forward and back at the same time. Finds the angle that works for him and narrows his gaze at you.

Green eyes pierce your mortified ones, because now you have to tell him, ask him, and you’re licking over your lips, trying to moisten them so the words have something to slip on.

You’re an adult. You got this. Asking what you are to him should be the easiest thing in the world, but there’s that stigma that you’re not worthy. Just a little girl who messes up her bed. Drags her guy friend out in the middle of the night to clean up said mess and watches on as he cleans it up.

“This.” You splay your arm out in front of you. Wave it around the general expanse of the room you’re in.

“What? The laundromat?”

“No.” It’s not the place you’re pointing out. Not the wall of washing machines ahead, thirteen of them empty, bar that one, top centre, tumbling your clothes through its big barrel. Not the driers on the other wall, just as big.

It’s the being here with him. Him sitting here with you waiting. Him acting like boyfriend material, when you don’t know where you stand.

“This,” you say. “Us.”

“Me and you?” His brow furrows. Voice normal, because he still doesn’t get it.

“Yeah. Us.” You exemplify the you-and-him part with your still flailing arm.

“Me helping you with your clothes is the problem?” He sits up, though you still feel his eyes on you.

“Yes.”

Thank god he gets it now. Only, “How?” he’s asking next, and you could shake him. Why do guys have to be so dumb?

Your hand is moving back and forth between you. You’re stretching to sit up and match him, but it’s cramping your cramping and you’re trying desperately to calm yourself down before saying, “We’re just fooling around. But you’re helping me with my period? It’s a little—”

“You think I’m fooling around?” Dean stands, and though he doesn’t turn around, you don’t need to see his face to know he’s angry. His bowed legs are twitching like they do when he gets mad.

“It’s not like you’ve asked me out,” you say, defensive. His hot-temper and the pain are a little too much to handle together, but it’s also a little too late to back off now. “We haven’t sat down and talked about this.”

“About us?” He turns, jaw cutting the air. Sharp lines cross his whole face, actually. His brows, the crease between them, his lips, and god those are perfect, and you’re about to lose whatever this was that allowed you to touch them. Taste them, and all you can do is nod.

“What were you expecting me to do? Take you out to some fancy five-star restaurant and buy you lobster?”

Your head rocks to the side. Cheeks rising to squish your lashes as you stare back at him and blink through it. If they were warm before, they’re as hot as the heat pack you’d used earlier during the night before all this occurred.

“Why—”

“Saw it in a movie once,” he says, words coming out the quickest you’ve heard him speak. The usual gruffness dissipated like he’s de-aged a couple of years by simply standing there. “Snails look gross.”

“Another movie?”

He nods.

You wanna ask what the hell he’s been watching, but you’re more concerned by his unusual demeanor. His hands are fidgeting, smoothing his sides. His eyes have dropped to the floor and there’s the whole eating shell…fish thing?

“Look at me,” he says next, but you are.

You’re seeing his tentative step forward. His arms splayed out like he’s showing you something more than what’s there, and that’s when you realise you’re the one that’s dumb. You’re the one that’s not getting it.

He didn’t fuss once. Didn’t screw up his nose at you when he realised you weren’t hurt from the hunt like he originally thought. And you’re not saying all the men that have ever been in your life have been grossed out by periods and bodily functions, but Dean exceeded whatever expectation and stereotype you had.

He’d insisted you stay at the motel while he came here for you, but you were too embarrassed to allow that. Too prudish to let the guy who’s seen all of you up close and personal do something even more intimate than even you’d prefer and now he’s standing there suggesting he’s not good enough?

“I am looking at you,” you say. “Guess I wasn’t before, but I am now.”

And even though it still cramps your cramps, you’re standing up and walking over to him. Feeling his jacket clip your sides where his sweats have fallen. You’re clinging to his shirt and pulling him in close so you can kiss those lips of his and taste.

You’d put your all into it, but his hands are hovering at your waist and you know his eyes are wide open, watching. So you lean back, chew on your cheek, smooth the fabric of his shirt back from where your grip scrunched it up, and, “Sorry,” you whisper. You’re not sure what else to do, but what you’re apologising for is lost on you, too.

It’s not like it’s the first time. He’s kissed you plenty, and not just the peck on your forehead minutes earlier. His mouth has touched every inch of your body, and every inch of him has touched yours, so why is this so damn hard now?

Your chin drops like a scolded child. May as well have with the silence between you. Can’t say the same for the room, but the tumbling of the drum is only making things worse because the clicking of your clothes is acting like a countdown for the timer on the machine and whatever he’s going to do next.

Do you say something? Do you wait for him? Your cheek is going to have a hole in it soon if someone doesn’t say something and thank god, or not, his mouth opens to, but, “Forget I said anything,” you cut in. Shake your head and step away from his space. “I should’ve—”

“Would you just shut up?” His voice booms, and great, there’s that gruffness you were missing.

Your nose tingles from his stare, and you’re opening your mouth again, but the look he gives you? Eyebrows to the heavens, green eyes looking more amber, like they’ve been lit by a flame? Yeah. You close it, chest heaving as you wait and listen.

“I just,” he says, and it’s quieter. “I thought we were on the same page.”

His fingers reach for yours and he pulls you back. If you were on a boat, you’d be dealing with motion sickness right about now, and truly, it’s how your stomach’s fairing. Just adding more to the discomfort of your middle, and why not? You’ve already given Dean a conniption. What’s one more grievance between the two of you?

“I’m no good, sweetheart. I’m going to hell.”

You want to interject with why that is. That it was a selfless act, but his thumb rubbing over the back of your hand, teed with the softness in his voice and the continual ‘I’m talking here’ glare keeps your lips tight.

“Can’t say I’d be happy if I saw you picking up some other douchebag at the bar. Like to think I’m the only guy that gets to do your laundry. Least until,” he shrugs. Gives you a rueful smile, “y’know?”

And you do know. You’re swallowing the ache in your throat, waiting just a little longer to make sure he’s finished before you try again.

You nod, and it’s solemn, slow. You don’t want to think about it, but the truth is there, hanging over both your heads. An elephant in the room who’s laughing at you and your complaints. Where Dean’s going, he’s going to be feeling a lot more than any tylenol could alleviate, and it really puts things in perspective.

So, “Yeah,” you say, and though you want to add you don’t want to pick up anyone else but him, ever, it’s a little too real, too involved than whatever this thing is now. You’d rather be trying that kiss again, but first you add, “As long as you’re not doing the same.”

“Cross my heart.” His mouth opens wide as he tugs your arm. Pulls you in and plants his mouth over yours.

It steals your breath away. The way he holds you. Wrapping his arms around your torso and squeezing, gentle enough to not cause you anymore discomfort, but present enough to soak in his warmth and solid form.

His tongue clips your teeth, spreads his morning breath and a taste that you know only from him over your lips.

Your gut calms. The cramps overpowered by the tingles from his nose, his fingers, chin and arms surrounding you, touching you, and you don’t want it to end.

But Dean lets go, only by a little. His face stays hovering inches from yours as he stares into your eyes.

“So have I made myself clear?” he asks. Chuckles when you rap his shoulder. His hand lets go and swipes at a strand of hair that’s probably been sticking out since you woke. Tucks it behind your ear.

You’re a bigger mess than you’ve been letting on, but the gesture returns his grin.

“Not fooling around?” you say, and he repeats it. Places a kiss on your forehead again, and drags you back to the seats.

His arm wraps around your shoulders once more and your head leans into his.

Four AM, and you’re no longer freezing your tits off. Cramping? A little, but the pouts, no longer there. There’s a warmth in your cheeks and one in your heart, though, and you’re sitting with the sweetest guy in the world.

You won’t label it. There’s no need. You know he’s hanging around, at least as long as he can. You just gotta find that loophole. Keep him here with you and Sam, and then who knows?

Maybe one day you’ll leave this life of visiting laundromats at odd hours because you’ll have a place of your own.

And then, the only red you’ll see will be the one you’re dealing with now, and the shade that crosses Dean’s nose when he says something real and important.

This started out as another idea for Couple Things involving Dean and his red gym teacher shorts, also at the laundromat, but it developed into what it is now. I’ll probably still write the other version as a part two to this eventually.

Dean Taglist #1

@globetrotter28 @ambiguous-avery @arcannaa @jollyhunter @zepskies

@reluctanthalfwayoptimism @supernotnatural2005 @jackles010378 @kaz-2y5-spn @applelovesposts

@jaydensluv @foxyjwls007 @deans-spinster-witch @roseblue373 @waynes-multiverse

@kazchester-fanfiction @maddie0101 @ladykitana90 @luvr4miya @amyjam78

@stoneyggirl2 @winchesterwild78 @missywinchester15 @deansbbyx @kr804573

@lyarr24 @salemslostwitch @mostlymarvelgirl @ladysparkles78 @multiversefanfics

@31miw-inkpsycho @yoursrosie @Theantisoci-alone @roseamie13 @krazykelly

@my-stories-vault @amberlthomas @levine-23 @ultimatecin73 @district447

@hobby27 @aylacavebear @stellawritesstories @middleearthlife @yeehawgiddyup13

@redwinexsupernova @artemys-ackles @kimxwinchester @bejeweledinterludes @impala67rollingthroughtown

If you’d like to be added, you can add yourself HERE, or if you’d like to be removed, please let me know ☺️

#jolly's recs #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #supernatural #spn #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester angst #spn x reader #dean x you #lovely moots 💕#bettystonewell

487 notes · View notes

harbours-lighthouse · 1 day ago

Text

𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐏𝐓.𝐈𝐈

— part one

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 — Jason Todd x F!Reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 — The argument Jason had with you is sending him spiralling. Will either of you find each other before it's too late? Will this be what spells out your inevitable split, or will you break away from fate and everything that tells you that this won't work?

𝐀/𝐍 — I finished this while still recovering from some pretty harrowing COVID, so I apologise if it feels a little janky. It might not be, but I struggled to view the fic as one whole thing and not tiny little snippets, and that's probably because of my silly light-headedness and sickly brain :)) Anyway, I hope you enjoy <3 (and I hope I tagged everyone lol).

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: none; just hurt/comfort

Jason can’t breathe—he’s sure of it. Each inhale feels like knives piercing through him. You left nearly an hour ago, but it’s his watch strapped on his wrist that tells him that. The clock hanging above the fridge in your kitchen isn’t working anymore—something he should have fixed—and the silver hands are stuck at 9.50 PM.

You walked out of the apartment at 9.48 PM.

Those silver hands glint and he’s sure that the clock knows what it’s doing. What it’s doing to him.

At first, anger swelled inside of him like a tide, reaching past his exhaustion to grab at his senses. He nearly whirled to slam his fist into a wall when you left, but the little voice in his head stopped him. The one that reminded him of you.

Don’t. You’re not going to be that person.

That person who hurts. That person who wrecks something precious just to stave off the grief gnawing at him. That person who loses everything by being the worst thing he could possibly be.

And then that anger dissipated a little like smoke, and something else took its place. It felt like dread, thick and heavy. It clung to him like spidery hands and it still does.

Jason runs a hand through his hair, wincing when his fingernails catch on the scab at his temple. It makes it all rush back to him—the fact that he’s been gone, and that you’ve left.

He snatches his keys off the little cabinet in the foyer, and the door slams shut behind him like an omen.

Like something final.

He didn’t bring his bike with him—he’d simply dropped onto your fire escape. If he’d been anyone else, he knows you would have thrown a frying pan at him, but you’d basically been sitting on the couch and watching that damned window like it might lure him back to you. You knew the second there was a flurry of shadow that he was there, and the window had slid open only a few seconds after he knocked on the frosted glass.

But now he really wishes he had brought his bike, because going on foot makes his search for you all the more difficult. Gotham City is large, and he knows you cover ground quickly when you’re not thinking about your destination.

Jason’s chest tightens, like ropes slowly looping around each of his lungs. He knows how cold panic feels, but this is hot—molten. If the ropes don’t stop him from breathing, then it’s the heat of his frustration.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” he says beneath his breath, like a quiet prayer of desperation. He feels vile for saying it—how can he say it when you’re not here to answer it?

His feet carry him down the narrow steps that lead up to your apartment complex, before turning onto the street. The holes in the asphalt glint with residue rain water, and the chilling wind nips at his skin.

You must be freezing, your cardigan can only do so much.

Each street is as familiar as the last, but he doesn't know how familiar they are to you. Have you taken the route you normally take to the bus stop? Did you simply keep walking past that tiny sliver of shelter from the weather on Gotham’s icy mornings? Or have you messed with him and taken a completely different path? Are you winding through the city like a clever and scared hare, and he the fox?

He hears a ruckus somewhere to his left, loud voices caught on the wind like paper notes.

He cuts across the street with long strides, puddles of water disturbed abruptly in his wake. The shadows don't scare him—whatever lingers inside alleyways doesn't know what violence is.

But Jason is still afraid because he knows that you're not as familiar with Gotham's cruelty. This city chews people up and spits them back out. This city is nothing but barbed wire and a pulsing heart made of teeth.

And Jason can be just as sharp as the place he grew up in.

“I don’t need your help,” Jason sneers, and he feels like he's said this twice already. The words chaff against him, like they're not as smooth and true as he thinks they are.

He watches the way your fists unclench by your sides, something close to resignation pinching around your face.

“I think you do,” you say too softly.

Jason feels like he might burst into flames, the kind that lick at him as punishment.

“You don't know what I need,” he grounds out, and he watches you crumble.

Why had he said those things? You'd been waiting for him for a whole month—Jason knows he hadn't been fair to you for that, but he couldn't find the right thing to say. What does ‘I'm sorry’ do in a situation like this? Begging you to forgive him seems… pointless. All his life he's asked for forgiveness, and never gotten it, even when a ticking time bomb sat next to him.

Why would you be any different?

But the silence that rang through the apartment after you left felt like a bell echoing in his ears, a sort of chant meant to torture him. Guilt had streaked red and hot through him while he stood there, unable to move, think, or breathe.

Jason couldn't let you go like that, even if his whole body screamed for him to just leave; the fact that you left your apartment for the sake of getting away from him is sitting heavily on his chest, too.

The roar of a car cuts through the noise in his head, and Jason makes his way to the crossroad ahead of him. Headlights glare through the dark haze of the night, splitting beams across the asphalt. Engines prattle while the city and guilt gnaws at him. He hears the rhythmic chirping of the crosswalk button, and squints up at the little walking man—

—it’s red.

That colour is everything inside Jason. A pulsing shade that burns through him like a fever. All you’d ever done was try to soothe that burn, and the one time that you try to soothe your own, he lashes out. His throat tightens painfully.

You’re everything to Jason, and you’re alone. He let you leave.

What sort of a man does that?

What sort of lover does that?

Jason’s eyes flit across every moving object, hoping to see you—maybe you’d step out of one of the corner stores, hair lit up by the sickly-green glow spilling from the windows. Or maybe you’d come to a stop by the curb, and he’d run to you—that’s what he should have done in the first place.

Instead all he can see are flashes of white as cars zip by him or stand still at the intersections. Red tail-lights gleam like eyes and there’s so much noise. It fills the entire street, fills his head, and all Jason can see when he blinks is your face crumbling with regret and hurt.

The hurt he buried inside of you when he didn’t send word for a whole month.

The regret he caused when you realised you couldn’t say anything that mattered.

What is wrong with him?

In the corner of his eye, Jason catches movement—and his heart stops.

It’s you, and you’ve just slipped out of a phone booth.

Jason inhales and it’s sharp, piercing through him. He watches as you grip your hair, fists shaking. You look so lost and Jason’s moving before he can think. A car horn blasts at him, but the noise is lost in the rapid pulsing of blood in his ears. He can feel the wind clawing at him, but even its cold fingers can’t steal away the heat beneath his skin—hot shame and guilt, it builds while the air in his lungs becomes stuck.

“Sweetheart!” Jason calls without thinking, and his voice catches on the word.

You spin, eyes wide—everything is spinning, but Jason stands as still as a statue in your vision. Had he known how desperate you were to go back to him? Was this why he didn’t answer the landline at the apartment?

You watch with your mouth dry as Jason comes to a stop in front of you, several paces away. You hate that distance—when did you get so distant?

“Jason,” you utter quietly, and if Jason hadn’t watched your lips form to say that single word, he wouldn’t have caught it at all.

“I’m… so sorry,” Jason says heavily, and your heart squeezes as if a hand had been shoved through your chest and grabbed the beating muscle.

You know how difficult it is for him to say that—mostly because he doesn’t ever believe that you’ll forgive him. All you’ve ever done is forgive him. How can he not see that?

Tears burn the back of your eyes, and you blink rapidly. Cars leave behind the rush of air and sound, surrounding the two of you like beams of metal and light. Gotham watches the two of you like a cruel mother, and you feel your stomach bunch with nerves.

“I—” you swallow thickly, “I called the apartment… thought you might still be there.”

Jason blinks, eyes combing across your face while his shoulders sag with the weight of that knowledge.

“I wasn’t there, I’d left already.”

“So you came looking for me?”

Jason feels like hands are grabbing at his ribcage and splitting it open. He’s afraid that when he speaks again, everything he feels might spill out from his mouth—I love you I love you I love you I love you!

“Yeah,” he settles with. “I should have—I should have gone looking for you sooner.”

“You should have come home sooner,” you say.

Jason nods, his jaw tightening while his throat throbs. He hasn’t felt this desperate in a long time.

“I’m really sorry, doll,” he murmurs, “I know you needed me, and I wasn’t…”

He can’t finish the sentence: I wasn’t there.

You close your eyes while the burn becomes overwhelming, the first few tears falling like thin, silver ribbons. You never want to cry when there’s something hot and angry settled in your chest, but maybe you’re not really angry. Maybe you’re just tired and terribly in love.

“I forgive you, Jason,” you cry softly, and Jason’s body aches—as if the weight of your sorrow were breaking down his muscles, slowly eating away at his nerves.

Maybe you’d both been distant, but that never meant you had abandoned his soul. He is still irrevocably connected to you, so tightly that if you didn’t have physical forms, he’s sure the both of you would have merged into one single thing.

He doesn’t know what that looks like, but Jason knows that it’s all that he wants.

Jason moves, almost senselessly, and his hands reach for you. They hover, not quite touching, and you open your eyes to find his outstretched hands. You don’t think or wait or pull away. His skin feels warm when you slip your fingers between his, intertwining your hands like a woven tapestry of calluses and scars.

And forgiveness.

“I’m sorry for leaving,” you say, voice thick with tears.

Jason shakes his head instantly. “No, don’t—”

He brings you closer, pulling you into him. Gunpowder and leather overwhelm your senses and you want to drown in it. You latch onto him like he might slip through your fingers—like he might be gone if you blink once, twice.

You breathe him in and feel his chest shudder beneath your cheek.

“I’m not going to do that again,” Jason whispers brokenly, and his lips press against your scalp. “I won’t keep you waiting like that—I’m sorry that I did.”

You feel the ache in your chest slowly ease, though it doesn’t leave fully.

“And,” he chokes around the dryness in his throat, “I’m sorry for all the things I said. I… I do need your help—more than I think I do. And you know me better than anyone else—I shouldn’t have pushed you away like that.”

You can hear the regret inside of him. It pulses like a heartbeat, and you want to soothe it. Blow it away like smoke.

“It’s okay, Jason. I promise that it’s okay.”

Jason’s warm hands tighten around you, shielding you away from the rest of Gotham.

“I love you,” Jason says, and there’s no hesitancy lingering behind the words.

No shame.

No regret.

No guilt.

You want to cry even harder, but instead a lightness fills you, breathing air back into your lungs. Pure air, not the kind Gotham offers. Just the kind that Jason brings.

“I love you too,” you reply softly.

The cars don’t slow, even when you feel like they should.

***

Luigi’s Pizza Place simmers with heat and spices, melted cheese and crispy bacon. Jason stands beside you with his hand firmly wrapped around yours. Both of you stare up at the menu, even though you both know the prices by heart.

“We could get a hawaiian,” you say, and you hear Jason’s long exhale.

“Sweetheart… we’ve talked about this.”

“I will not hear any hawaiian pizza slander, Todd.”

“It’s fruit on pizza—”

“Invalid argument.”

Jason scoffs as you both shuffle along with the rest of the queue.

“How is that an invalid argument?”

You idly watch the staff flitter behind the counter. “Olives are a fruit, but no one complains about that.”

“That’s… different,” Jason sighs.

“How so?”

“Because it’s still savoury.”

“So? We put BBQ sauce on a bunch of pizzas and that’s sweet too. What’s wrong with pineapple being sweet?”

“Baby,” there’s a laugh stuck in Jason’s words. “I don’t think that works the same way.”

“Whatever—also, why is it that there’s more hate for hawaiian pizza than there is for those weird gummy pizzas?”

Jason tugs you closer to him as a group of teenagers enter the place, loud voices bouncing inside the heated shop.

“That I will agree with—that stuff's disgusting,” Jason mutters, and you squeeze his hand.

“That’s probably better than any apology you’ve ever given me.”

A kiss is firmly planted against your temple.

“Minx,” Jason mumbles, and you smile wider than you have in a long time.

Thank you for reading, God bless <3

tags: @kitkatlover015 @batslilwhore @freythecrazyfae @soulsforsales @joinmeforadoublesuicide @sweetistic @zephrnyx @twismare

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd/reader #jason todd/you #jason todd fanfiction #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood/reader #red hood/you #red hood fanfiction #dc x reader #dc x you #dc/reader #dc/you #dc fanfiction #★ harbour's writing !

142 notes · View notes

leashybebes · 1 day ago

Text

several sentences smonday

tagged by @ambernotember, @rcmclachlan and @liminalmemories21 - thanks, gang. made some decent progress on allying yesterday so here's a little more of buck being the one going through it while tommy's happily oblivious (we love a role reversal!) special guest star: the author's barely disguised longing for thai food

"Hey," Tommy says. "This place looks great. You know I'd have been happy with the usual street meat, right? What's the occasion?"

There's an opening right there, but Buck hears himself say, "N-no occasion. Just heard Hen talking about it and I thought it sounded cool."

"Awesome. Did she have any recommendations?"

"The kang pah with catfish is supposed to be really good."

"Cool. I would fight god for even a mediocre massaman curry, honestly, so we should get something with a little spice too," Tommy says. "We can share?"

Buck files that away for future reference. He doesn't know if massaman curry is in Bobby's repertoire, but maybe he can figure it out himself. God, he wants to kick himself, thinking back on the way he had Bobby help him cook up a feast for Tommy when he got hurt, so eager to deliver it and share it with Tommy and - how didn't he know, he wonders, for approximately the seventy five thousandth time.

Tommy's leaning forward a little so they can look at the same menu, the low light making him look just - breathtaking. Like, Buck literally cannot get a proper breath and he wipes his hands on his slacks under the table, agrees to Tommy's appetizer choices without really hearing them because he's so fixated on Tommy's hand as he points out options, his short, neat fingernails, the hangnail at the base of his index finger.

Tommy has such good hands - they're capable and sturdy and strong and flecked with scars and freckles from work and time outside, and his fingers are big and blunt and - Buck wants to hold his hand so badly it's making him crazy. He can almost see it - the way their fingers would look intertwined, the way Tommy's knuckles would flex when he squeezed.

He could reach out, take Tommy's hand. That would - that would make it clear, right? If he reached out and slotted his fingers through Tommy's, that would say it for him. But it won't, will it? If he reaches out and takes Tommy's hand he'll probably just get a weird look in response. God, they blurred those lines so comprehensively that Buck isn't sure if there's any way back. The idea makes him feel miserable, and he only startles out of it when the server comes to take their order.

Tommy rattles off the appetizers and entrees Buck apparently agreed to while deep in the fog of the most PG fantasy he's had in years. Tommy launches into a story about his latest shift and Buck nods, makes affirmative noises in the right places, takes slow sips of his water, tries to calm the fuck down. How can it possibly be so much easier to fuck Tommy, to get fucked by Tommy than to have a conversation with him about what he wants?

"So uh - h-how was your date?" Buck asks. He kind of desperately does not want to know, but he guesses if Tommy met the love of his life last night he should probably know about it.

"Yeah, it was nice," Tommy says with a shrug, and something in Buck settles. Nice doesn't scream 'whirlwind romance of the century, eloping to Vegas next weekend'.

"You gonna see him again?"

"Well. Not for a date," Tommy says with a smirk, and Buck abruptly feels like his insides are on fire.

no pressure whatever day it is tags for @trombonechurchill, @setmeatopthepyre and @bidisasterevankinard

#my writing #wip games #allying too close to the sun

139 notes · View notes

roguishcat · 3 days ago

Text

Thirsty Thursday: Coconut Rum Confessions

Summary: Having been just friends with Tav for years, Astarion finally decides to tell her how he really feels.

Excerpt: “Darling, I don’t want to see you once a month and talk about inconsequential nothings. I want this to be real. I want us to be real. I want it all! I mean” – he took a deep breath – “if this is what you want too.”

Word count: 6.9k

Tags: MNDI, Humour, Romance, Astarion x Tav, Astarion is bad at feelings (but he confesses!), piv sex, fingering, dry humping, Astarion being a brat, soft dom Astarion, smut with feels, fluff, Astarion and Shadowheart are bitchy besties

A/N: I decided to turn this into a little one-shot collection called 'Dating for Dummies'! This story is part 2 and follows directly after the events of 'Brunch'.

Thank you so much @preciouslittlebhaalbae for all your help and suggestions! If it wasn't for you, this would have a million mistakes! You are such a gem for helping and I really appreciate it! 💖💖If there are any mistakes left, it's because I decided to write some more last minute.

“My, my! What are the odds of seeing you three here!” Tav teased, clearly having fun seeing them squirm as they tried to come up with a reasonableish excuse for being there.

“Fine, you got us,” Shadowheart shrugged her shoulders with a laugh. “How was your date?”

“It was great, actually. Really great. Just great!”

Tav’s smile was a little tight, which had Shadowheart frowning. She’d known her long enough to know when Tav was lying. Seeing that she was looking anywhere but at Astarion, it didn’t take a genius to figure out why. Damn that stupid elf, it seemed that he still had a chance.

“Then how come you’re here with us instead of getting it on?” Karlach grinned lecherously.

“Well, you know me. Don’t go home with them on the first date and all that. Just felt him up a little under the table. I’m a lady, after all.”

The look on Astarion’s face was that of an outraged debutante clutching her pearls.

“Just kidding! You should have seen your face!” Tav giggled and gave him a light shove. “Never thought I would see the day when little ‘ol me would make Astarion Ancunín look so scandalized.”

Astarion cleared his throat and pushed his curls back. “You misunderstand, dearest. I’m just shocked that you would be so crass.”

“Well, perhaps that’s what happens when someone is friends with you for so long,” Shadowheart said with a treacly-sweet smile that did not reach her eyes.

Bitch.

Astarion shot her a dirty look.

You’re the bitch.

Shadowheart rubbed her eye lightly with a perfectly manicured middle finger.

“Anyway,” Tav pretended not to notice the exchange, “as nice as it is to chat, I promised Gale I would help his daughter with her school project tomorrow. So, I have to get up early to catch the train to Waterdeep.”

“Do you need a ride home?” Astarion blurted out, making Shadowheart do a double-take.

“Sure, if you’re offering,” Tav nodded and waved goodbye to Karlach, oblivious to the murderous glare Shadowheart shot in Astarion’s direction.

“I’ll go get the car,” Astarion said and darted towards the parking lot.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Shadowheart caught up with him – damn she could walk quick in those heels – and grabbed his arm.

“What do you think? Driving our sweet Tav home so she doesn’t get mugged. Because I’m a gentleman like that.”

“You are the furthest thing from a gentleman.”

“I thought you wanted me to make a move!” Astarion accused, annoyed that he sounded like a lovesick teen talking about his crush.

“Yes, ‘wanted’ being the key word here,” she hissed, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. “Stop playing mind games, Astarion. Because if you do make a move but don’t follow through, I’m calling Lae’zel.”

Now that was a proper threat. Karlach, he could probably win over by giving her his saddest, wettest eyes. To say that Lae’zel was not fond of him would be the understatement of the century. She barely tolerated him and his antics over the years. He was quite sure that the gith was just itching for a reason to rough him up or run him through with one of her swords. She’d got a little softer over the years since she became a mother, but it didn’t mean that they were buddy-buddy.

“Fine, I will be virtue personified!” He said dramatically, pressing his hand to his heart.

“I don’t believe that for a second, but we will see.” Shadowheart pivoted on her heel and turned away, back stiff, perfect ponytail flicking from side to side.

Half an hour later and about twenty minutes into their ride, Astarion still couldn’t summon the courage to say anything remotely close to asking Tav on a date. Why was this so difficult when it came to her? His mouth felt dry and his palms felt wet. It was so out of character for him. Him! The one who seduced so many with just a look! But when it came to Tav – someone that he actually wanted to have a genuine connection with – he found himself tongue-tied.

“Now this is a very nice ride,” Tav commented, running her fingers along the comfortable seat with a yawn. “Remind me again, why do I pay for most of the brunches when we meet up?”

“Because you love me and want to treat me to cheap coffee?”

“Sounds about right,” she closed her eyes with a contented sigh and relaxed into the car seat.

Astarion shot furtive glances at Tav, noting with annoyance that she looked good enough to eat. He did not know how Halsin could resist. He sure was finding it difficult. But then again, that duck-lover was always much too dutiful and proper for his own good. Because in spite of his reputation and extensive experience, Halsin was too much of a gentleman. Astarion, however, never claimed to be such.

The car ride was over too soon for his liking.

Astarion unbuckled his seatbelt, leaning over to open the car door for Tav. Their noses bumped together gently as he drew back.

Tav’s tongue darted out through an opening of her mouth to wet her lower lip. It was an invitation if he ever saw one. He leaned in, sensing the subtle shift in the air, the feeling of anticipation. In the past he hadn’t cared to go slow. Astarion had rushed into kisses the way a reckless swimmer would dive into water without checking where he would end up. Only the end result had mattered. Getting off or getting something else that he had wanted. But this was Tav. His Tav. Or perhaps not his, yet. But that could be remedied easily enough.

Intense eyes drank in the slightly parted lips, the beautiful neck, the rise and fall of her chest. Tav shifted towards him. Astarion cupped her cheek with his hand, and she leaned into it, eyes fluttering shut. Astarion closed the distance between them, meeting her lips gently. He wanted to be ferocious, to kiss her in a way that would make her toes curl, in a way that would ensure that she would not want any other to kiss her again. But he found himself holding back. For no reason other than his stupid, stupid self.

The kiss was lukewarm at best. She felt his reluctance, drawing back with a frown.

“Astarion?”

He didn’t say anything. Just looked at her as her pleasant expression gave way to a concerned frown.

“Astarion, is everything okay?” Tav put her hand over his, thumb stroking smooth, lightly-freckled skin.

He realised that he had to say something. If he let the silence stretch any longer, Tav would certainly take his reluctance personally.

“Yes, of course it is. Why wouldn’t it be, darling?”

She sighed and moved his hand away from her face and onto the car seat.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” she smiled and gave his fingers a reassuring squeeze. “Thanks for driving me home. I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

He stared after Tav long after she was gone.

What in the sweet hells was that?

A week later, Astarion found himself in front of her apartment with a bottle of coconut rum. Why coconut rum? Well, that was a different story for a different time.

He hadn’t bothered to change before coming here, so Astarion was still in the gorgeous number he’d worn to the fundraiser. Being there, surrounded by all those superficial, self-serving people who barely knew which charity they were raising the money for, got a bit too much. He felt stifled, suffocated. He went out to get some air and started to walk. Then he just kept walking until he found himself in a cheap liquor store, buying a bottle of rum, then walking more still until he finally reached Tav’s apartment.

She wasn’t home. Which shouldn’t have been too surprising. She was probably out with Halsin. For their second date.

He scowled at the thought and opened the bottle, taking a generous swig of the disgusting drink. The rum was an in-joke. She was supposed to laugh and let him in, the rum being a peace-offering of sorts.

Now he was stuck sitting outside her apartment, his back pressed up against her door in his eye-wateringly expensive suit. It would probably be ruined. Astarion was surprised that he felt a dark sort of satisfaction at the thought.

He heard the clicking of heels and saw pretty strappy stilettos stop in front of him. Cute. She painted her toes silver, he noticed. Hot.

“And why, may I ask, are you camped out here, hm?” Tav asked with a sigh, but he could swear that he could hear her fighting back a smile.

“It’s a free country,” he took another swig from the bottle. “I can get drunk wherever I want.”

“I mean,” Tav crouched in front of the elf, brushing the errant silver curls aside to get a better look at his face “you could have called and told me that you wanted to come over.”

He could hear the exasperation in her voice but didn’t look up. Instead of answering, Astarion gulped down some more rum. The taste just would not grow on him. How annoying.

“Scooch over a little then, I need to open the door. These heels are absolutely killing me, and you can proceed to get drunk inside my apartment,” she rose and nudged him playfully with the toe of her shoe.

“Should have worn the ones that I bought you for your birthday,” he muttered, grasping her calf and running his fingers down to her ankle.

Tav gave a shocked squeal and wriggled out of his grasp. She had always been extremely ticklish, and this was his way of reminding her that he could and would abuse that knowledge.

“Let’s leave the ‘I-told-you so’ for a later time, when you aren’t so moody and I’m not in pain,” she suggested.

Astarion shrugged but shifted enough for Tav to open the door.

Once inside, Tav immediately kicked her shoes off, her happy groan making a shiver dance up his spine.

Astarion decided to relocate and sunk down on her sofa, not relinquishing the bottle when she tried to take it from him. Tav huffed and sat down next to him, laying her legs across his and putting her head on his shoulder.

“Want to tell me what this is all about?” she murmured. “Or are we just going to pretend that this is your typical Thursday evening?”

“How’s Gale’s daughter?” he chose to ignore her question. Because answering that would open a whole new can of worms and he did not have the emotional capacity for that.

It was obvious that he was just trying to change the subject, but Tav pretended not to notice.

“I swear, she is more like Lae’zel than him, despite all the magic used to make their child resemble him in some way. And bless Gale’s heart, he really tries with her. But the bossy little madam demanded ‘that teacher, the one in the ridiculous clothes’ come by and help her with her assignment last week and then again this afternoon. Gale could have done it in his sleep, he is heads and shoulders above me when it comes to… well, everything. But no. Had to be me.”

She stopped speaking and ran her fingers through his silver curls, feeling him relax a little under her gentle ministrations. They stayed silent for a while after that.

“Why do you think Gale and Lae’zel work? As a couple, I mean.” Astarion spoke quietly. He probably wouldn’t have asked if not for the fact that he had a generous amount of alcohol in his system and was running on two hours of sleep.

“They just do. I guess the why and how is only up to them to know. But Lae’zel has definitely gone softer round the edges, just enough to allow herself to be happy. And adopting Lae’zel’s son, and having a daughter with her… Being parents becomes them. They are wonderful together.”

Astarion noticed that he was running his hand up and down her thigh, the hand holding the rum pressing Tav closer to his body. Treacherous hands, what a mess they got him into. Now he would have to come up with some kind of excu-

“Astarion?” Tav breathed softly, idly stroking his hair and loosely coiling his curls round her fingers. “I’m tired. Aren’t you?”

They both knew that she wasn’t talking about the late hour. The unspoken part of the question hung heavily in the air, the atmosphere becoming charged.

“I-” he began, uncertainty colouring his voice. “I never told anyone, but my father left my mother when I was quite young. She could have done much better than him, but the bastard made her believe that he loved her. And she was much too wide-eyed and naïve to know better.”

Just like a certain someone I know, he would have added, but didn’t want to draw any parallels.

“She worked tirelessly to help him pay for his studies. Because they were in it together, or so she thought. And then they had me. Suddenly, he realised that he was not cut out to be a father and just up and left. Taking what was left of the money, leaving us with nothing. Less than nothing. Leaving us in crippling, impossible debt.”

He scowled, thinking about his mother. The mother that gave up so much to make sure that he could become someone of worth. The mother that he almost never visited.

“Growing up, I would say or do something, and my mother would tear up because it was ‘as if he was in the room.’ I guess she never stopped loving him.”

He didn’t really want to talk about his past. But he wanted to explain. Wanted Tav to understand that he cared. That she mattered. And that his unwillingness to pursue her in earnest wasn’t just him being a bastard. Or perhaps, not entirely.

“I constantly heard about how I was his spitting image. That I looked just like him. I knew that my mother and others didn’t mean it that way, but I often felt like they were saying that I was just like him in every way.” Astarion took a shuddering breath, his fingers gripping the bottle a little tighter. “The same unreliable bastard who was capable of abandoning the people who cared about him most without so much as a fucking explanation.”

He felt Tav’s lips near his temple and her fingers on his face. She pushed back his curls, brushing the shell of his ear and then moving her hand to stroke the back of his head. Astarion’s shoulders relaxed a touch. Tav had always known how to prevent him from retreating into himself. More importantly, he’d always known that these gentle touches were given freely. No strings attached. He didn’t know how he’d managed to stay in her good books over the years, but sure as hells he wouldn’t question her about it.

“When I was in the last year of high school, I decided to confront him. I knew his name, of course, and I found out where he worked at the time. Waited outside the building for hours until that bastard finally left for the day. And you know, everyone telling me all these years that I looked just like him was absolutely right. It was like looking into a mirror and seeing an older, much wealthier version of myself. I got up and wanted to say what I thought of him, but I just couldn’t. Couldn’t force the words out.”

He took another swig of the rum and wrinkled his nose. Damn, this stuff was disgusting.

“Our eyes locked. He recognised me, there was no way that he didn’t. And then he just walked past me. As if I was a nobody. I suppose, in a way I was.”

Astarion took a shuddering breath and decided to just go for it. In a way, it felt good to tell someone. No, not just someone. To tell her.

“I got completely shitfaced drunk that evening. Went home and vomited all over the place. My mother didn’t say a word about it, just helped me through the night, then took care of me the next morning.”

“And that’s-” he stilled his shaking fingers - “that was when I decided that I would show that arrogant, stuck-up prick just what I was made of. I studied like mad to get into a good university. I was prepared to do anything to quickly move up in the world. So that next time we met I was not somebody who could be ignored so easily. Somebody he would have no choice but to show an ounce of respect.”

He was shaking again. He wouldn’t have noticed if it wasn’t for Tav squeezing him closer to herself, but she didn’t interrupt him.

“And then, when I turned thirty – still so young for an elf, but much further along in life than he had been at that age - I felt that I was ready to throw my success in his face and show him just how much him not being in my life didn’t matter. But I- I didn’t get the chance. He died before I had the opportunity to see him again. Shot twice. No surprise there, really. He conned and swindled enough people over the years to make plenty of enemies. And he had already been revived once that year, it would be illegal to do it again.”

He remembered how he felt when he had seen the announcement. Angry. Absolutely livid at not having the chance to tell that fucker how much it didn’t matter that he hadn’t been in his life.

“Him dying…” Astarion took a deep breath to steady himself. “I didn’t want his love, or approval, or a pat on the back. I just wanted to talk to him, as equals of sorts. I wanted an answer. Just one fucking conversation that would help me to understand. With everything else that he passed down to me, did I really take after him so much that I was incapable of touching anything precious to me without destroying it?”

Tav kissed his shoulder but didn’t speak. Anything she could say would be inadequate at this moment. She hated that he had to live through that. Hated that his father would just cast him and his mother aside for no reason other than his ambition.

“And here is the crux of it,” Astarion went on. “Is wanting something, really wanting it, wanting it more than anything else… Is that enough to preserve it? Because I want this to be real. I want us to be real. To hells with excuses!” He leaned forward to put the coconut rum on the coffee table. It was now or never. He wanted – no – he needed to stop living his life like he was trying to prove that he wasn’t someone else. It was time to start living. Really living. Not just going through the motions and pretending that he enjoyed it. He didn’t know what he wanted. Or what the new plan would be. But he didn’t want to spend another day feeling afraid to tell Tav how he had felt about her for years.

“Darling, I don’t want to see you once a month and talk about inconsequential nothings. I want this to be real. I want us to be real. I want it all! I mean” – he took a deep breath – “if this is what you want too.”

He finally turned his head to look at Tav, her eyes wide and her mouth parted a little.

“Tav?”

She didn’t speak, but leaned forward and kissed his cheek tenderly, making his eyes flutter shut. Then she lifted herself a little to wrap an arm around his neck, the other hand coming up to rest on the back of his head as she ran her fingers up his neck and then the shell of his ear, making him shudder in want.

Then his lips found hers. And soon she was straddling him as their kisses grew heated, Astarion’s insistent hands moving her dress out of the way enough to expose skin just above her hip bones and continue their ascent.

“So, I’m guessing there will be no third date with Halsin?” he managed to say between kisses.

She smiled and kissed his cheek. “There wasn’t a second date. I cancelled. It wouldn’t be fair to string Halsin along.”

“You sweet, caring thing. How kind of you to worry,” Astarion inwardly preened.

“Is this really what you want to talk about now?” Tav giggled.

“I don’t want to talk at all.”

But he did want to make sure that this was okay. That this was what she wanted, too. He wanted to ask her, to-

Tav chose that moment to nibble on his ear and grind against the bulge in his trousers, making Astarion short-circuit.

“Star, you may safely assume that I am most enthusiastically yours. Do your worst.”

Well, if that was a challenge, then he was definitely up to it. Except, if she kept grinding oh so deliciously against him for much longer, he wouldn’t be up to it for very long.

Astarion drew her in, and his lips devoured hers hungrily. Tav let out a moan as Astarion gripped her possessively, dominating her completely. It was no surprise that she yielded to him, really. He was a superb lover, after all. She parted her lips for him to drive his tongue into her mouth. Coaxing, conquering, controlling every motion.

They broke apart and Astarion found that he rather liked having her this close. Face flushed, chest rising and falling, lips plump and parted invitingly. Tav was currently busy unbuttoning his shirt with the eager inquisitiveness of someone unwrapping a present. The look of intense concentration on her face was endearing.

“Careful, darling. This ensemble happens to be one-of-a-kind,” Astarion admonished her gently.

“Well, then I would like to submit a complaint to whoever decided it should have so many damn buttons!”

“Impatient, are we?” Astarion chuckled, his voice deeper, thick with arousal. He started helping her, unbuttoning from the collar down as Tav gave a frustrated groan that became a happy sigh as his chest and abdomen were finally revealed.

Laughing, she brushed against him to nip on his neck, stealing a husky sigh that turned into a groan when she palmed him through the fabric of his trousers.

“You’re the one to talk.”

He whimpered, his body instinctively rocking into the sensation. Tav was right, of course. He just couldn’t wait for her to finish undressing him. And for the life of him, he couldn’t remember the last time he was so excited to see someone naked. But he didn’t have to tell her that.

“You seem to think, my dear, that you’re in charge here.”

Arrogant and cocky. A familiar role.

“No,” Tav kissed his temple and whispered into his ear, “I am happy for you to lead.”

Astarion’s groan melted into a trembling sigh when her breath ghosted over the shell of his ear. His lips moved down to kiss the swell of her covered breast while his hand touched the other. Feeling emboldened by her reaction to his thumb brushing across her nipple, the elf began kissing the covered part of her breast before catching the peak teasingly between his teeth. Lifting his hips, he ground his erection against her core, delighting in the way her breath hitched. Encouraged, he did it again and was rewarded by a moan.

“Astarion, please!” Tav breathed out with a plosive sound as she arched her back, needing more.

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” he ground out between thrusts, “I suppose I-”

Tav chose that moment to unzip his trousers and finally, finally touch him. Eyes half-lidded, she ran her hand down his shaft, moving back up to smear pre-cum across the head with her thumb.

“I do ask nicely. Please.” She pumped him once, then again for good measure. “Please,” she moaned into his ear, “Please.”

Astarion grabbed her wrist. Because his night would not end with him making a mess in his trousers like some pre-pubescent teen.

Tav squealed when he lifted her, the world briefly blurring as Astarion carried her across the room and into her bedroom with rather impressive speed. Kicking the door open and briefly getting entangled in his trouser legs – damn those things! – he set Tav down on the bed before both of them could fall over.

The battle with his clothes was brief and he came out victorious. His expensive outfit went flying across the room, soon joined by Tav’s dress. He wanted to stop a moment, to drink her in, but Tav – quite understandably impatient – immediately started kissing him passionately.

“Wait,” he pulled away to unclasp her bra and flung it onto the floor. “Much better.”

He palmed her breasts, reveling in the feeling of having the freedom to explore, touch and taste. Perhaps taste was his favourite, after all. He had never really got over his oral fixation.

Astarion climbed on top of Tav, kissing her feverishly. The intense, predatory look in his eyes made her heart race. He was delirious with want. An uncontrollable sort of longing to be closer to her. It was a desire so powerful that it destroyed whatever control he had left, leaving him a panting mess.

“Darling I- I promise that I’m going to do this right next time.” Astarion’s voice grew huskier as he propped himself up on his elbow, the other hand grabbing her hip roughly. “But now I just have to be inside you. Just-”

“Yes. I’m ready.”

Tav put a warm, lightly trembling hand on his back. She was so wet, she knew that she was more than ready. But Astarion still entered her slowly, making sure that it didn’t hurt. Giving several shallow thrusts, he pushed himself in completely with a strangled groan.

“Gods” – he breathed out and rocked forward again and again, her moan sending a shiver down his spine – “Tav, darling-”

The inexplicable pleasure had his low-pitched hums turn to whimpers as he tried and failed to set a pace. It was probably the sloppiest, worst form of his life and he felt incredible. Greedy hands and whet kisses exploring her body were welcomed, and her own touch making his breath hitch. He realised that he wasn’t doing enough. It was their first time and he wanted – no, he needed to make sure that it was memorable.

“Gods! Tav, I ought to-” he closed his eyes, reaching blindly for her face. “I must-”

He was rambling, unable to stop himself, mouth running a mile a minute. He couldn’t even understand exactly what he was saying. The stress of the past several days coupled with a generous amount of alcohol – why did he even get that stupid rum! – had him spewing all sorts of nonsense.

She put her fingers over his mouth, finally stopping him from saying more.

“Star, I-”

He gripped her wrists, cutting her off with the sudden press of his hands.

And he was lost.

He inhaled sharply, his entire body tensing as heat shot up his spine. With a deep groan, he bit Tav’s shoulder and shuddered, thrusting into her as he chased wave after wave of pure bliss.

Breathing hard, he lay there, feeling completely boneless and spent. And then he realised that he must be the only one.

Shit.

He did not just do that! He did not just cum about three minutes into sex with the woman he’d been trying so hard to impress for months and had adored for years.

“Shit,” he said, not sure what to do after such a cock-up. There was only one thing to do, really. He had to leave.

Panicking, his eyes darted to Tav’s face, then to the door, then her face again.

“I’m-”

Warm, soft lips silenced him. The kiss was warm and gentle; it was so very Tav.

“Tav, I- I’m sorry,” he managed when he pulled away.

“Sorry? Why?” Tav felt that she missed something important but wasn’t quite sure what.

“The sex was shit,” he said bluntly.

“I didn’t think so.”

The look of confusion on her face was both adorable and exasperating. Surely her past encounters weren’t so terrible that this disaster seemed great in comparison?

“But you didn’t even- well…”

He couldn’t bring himself to say it. He – the one who had a veritable cornucopia of lovers – couldn’t even do something as simple as properly pleasuring his partner. What an embarrassment.

“No, I didn’t. But that’s not all sex is about for me. I love being close to you. Us isn’t just about sex. Although, don’t get me wrong, this was fun. But being with you is about a million little things. Like getting cheap coffee. You talking to me about your work and how Shadowheart annoys you constantly. It’s about the excitement I feel every time I see you and how I keep thinking about how your day went when we aren’t together.”

Astarion had always been a skeptic, so he had to bite his tongue to avoid saying something snarky. But Tav wore her expressions boldly. And over the years he’d learned enough about her to know without any doubt that if Tav said something, she meant it.

“Well that all sounds rather dull,” he scoffed, hiding his pout and flushed cheeks in her hair.

“Perhaps.”

“So domestic and uninspired.”

“Mmm…” Tav ran a soothing hand down his back and up again to rest her fingers on his shoulder.

“I suppose I could get used to that.” Astarion turned his head to the side to put his lips to her neck, Tav giggling as his curls brushed against sensitive skin.

He stayed like that for a little while before pulling out of Tav, a soft moan from her making him feel a little better. He moved to spoon her, pulled Tav closer, clutching her closely and putting his leg over hers.

“I will fuck you into the bedsheets tomorrow,” he couldn’t suppress a yawn.

“Sounds like a date.” Tav grabbed the edge of the duvet, pulling it over them both.

“Is it really enough for tonight?”

Is it enough for you to stay?

“Yes. I fell in love with my best friend. I feel very lucky to have you.”

And apparently it was just that simple. Astarion wanted to say something back. He did try. But he felt weightless and happy, and coming up with words seemed rather challenging at that point. So, he decided to give himself a minute to think about it. Then another. And then another.

Astarion could not remember falling asleep. His sleeping was odd in itself. He couldn’t remember the last time he chose it over trancing. Yet, there he was. Being woken up by a playful ray of light that managed to find a gap in the curtains. He squinted and pulled the covers up higher so just the tip of his nose was poking out. It didn’t help.

He felt the bed dip as someone sat down next to him.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like someone hired Karlach to ring bells in my head and she is taking the job too seriously.”

It was a terrible joke. It would have to do.

“I thought you’d feel like that. I brought you some water and a Scroll of Lesser Restoration.”

Shifting under the covers, Astarion noticed that he was wearing a pair of simple cotton briefs and was decidedly cleaner than he should have been after sex. Tav must have cleaned him as much as she could without waking him. The thought filled the elf with gentle warmth.

“How did you manage to get your hands on one of those, hm?” He cracked one eye open and shut it immediately with a hiss. Damn that cheerful sun.

“That’s for me to know, isn’t it? Come on. Up you get.”

The task felt truly Herculean, but Astarion managed to sit up – with an appropriate amount of complaining – drink the water and then read the writing on the scroll. With a glow, the magic settled over his skin, chasing away the horrid throbbing in his skull. It felt wonderful. But not as heavenly as the vision in front of him – Tav wearing nothing but a towel and a smile. Hair damp, one after another droplets of water making their way down her neck, down her cleavage and then disappearing under the towel.

He swallowed, his mouth feeling dry again.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he reached for her, moving her hair out of the way so he could have a better look at her soft skin. “I could get used to waking up to this.”

“And I could get used to having a handsome elf in my bed. Besides, didn’t you say something about fucking me into the bedsheets?”

“Indeed, I did! And I’m about to make good on that promise.” His voice was playful, but there was a glint in his eye — the glint of a predator that finally had his prey cornered.

Astarion grabbed Tav round the waist and fell back, bringing her on top of him. The towel fell open, Tav’s bare breasts and stomach pressing against him most enticingly.

"So, now that you have me where you want me, what are you going to do?" Tav asked playfully, running her hand down his chest with an appreciative sigh.

“Everything.”

“That sounds like it might take a while.”

“I’m overdue for some time off anyway. And what better way to spend it than this.” Astarion lowered his voice – as if to share a secret - and kissed her. Tav welcomed his kisses and wandering hands with gentleness, running her fingers through his curls to caress his ears.

“Gods,” he broke the kiss and pressed his forehead to hers, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“No, I mean- I love you. I’ve loved you for so long, it became second nature. I didn’t even think of it as love. I just thought of it as a feeling that I reserved only for you. But nothing that I could put into words. So, I want to say it again. I love you, Tav.”

And then he kissed her. And it was sweet, tender, and perfect. He brought one hand to the small of her back, the other snaking down to make its way between her legs. Breaking the kiss, Astarion rose slightly to murmur in her ear.

“Eyes on me, my sweet,” he said in a voice so velvety it sent heat straight to her core. “I want to see exactly how you look when you fall apart.”

“I always have my eyes on you.”

He started slow, a gentle brush of digits over a bundle of nerves, savouring it. He’d pull away - barely brushing over where she wanted his fingers most- only to press harder, then harder still. Tav shut her eyes and rocked against him with a groan.

Suddenly, she yelped, her eyes flying open when she felt a harsh slap and then a stinging sensation on her ass.

“Did you just spank me?”

“I did say ‘eyes on me’, dearest. Tsk” – he clicked his tongue and continued his ministrations, fingers moving faster. “Honestly… Can’t you follow simple instructions?”

“You’re impossible!” Tav’s laugh turned into a wanton moan and she ground against him.

“And you’d be a liar to say that you don’t love it.”

Astarion smirked and watched the rise and fall of her hips as she brushed against his rapidly hardening cock. The shock of it was short-lived as Astarion retaliated by moving his fingers directly to her clit. Tav didn’t stand a chance, really. She shattered so beautifully. Astarion watched her with an intensity that sent yet another overwhelming wave through her.

Content that she was most satisfied, Astarion moved to lay her down on the bed. Still feeling floaty, Tav watched as he hooked his fingers under his waistband and pulled his underwear down, freeing himself. His cock throbbed in his grasp, slick with precum.

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” he breathed, touching himself as his hungry eyes took her in.

“Stole the words right out of my mouth,” she murmured, lifting her arms, beckoning him. “Come here, my love.”

He complied, sliding along her body, his lips finding hers. Astarion moaned into the kiss, his hands lifting Tav’s legs to lock over his hips.

He slid into her, and Tav began to move against him in a slow, tantalising rhythm that made his breath hitch.

“Astarion,” Tav moaned, then said it again so tenderly it made his heart ache.

He started moving, rolling his hips and finding a rhythm that had them both gasping and groaning in pleasure. The room was filled with lewd sounds of skin upon skin, of bodies moving and writhing together. He seared her skin with hot, messy kisses, sucking and biting her neck as she tilted her head to expose herself more to him. He felt her hands slip through his curls, tracing the delicate lines of his pointed ears.

“Oh, darling,” Astarion groaned, thrusting deeper, delighting when she gasped and arched against him. “Can you give me another one, my sweet?”

“Yes. Yes, I-” Tav nodded as she clung to him, feeling tension building up inside her again as his hands traced the contours of her body.

Astarion angled his hips to hit deeper, finding a spot that made her throw her head back against the pillow with a strangled moan. A few more well-placed thrusts, his fingers once again on her clit, and Tav felt her climax. More intense than the last, it overwhelmed her senses.

Preening, Astarion finally let go, allowing himself to get lost in her. Her breath hot against his skin, the feeling of her muscles spasming against him, the lewd noises she was making. He didn’t last long. Astarion bit her shoulder, burying himself deep inside her as his orgasm hit him hard.

They stayed still, the sounds of their unsteady pants filling the air.

“So…” Tav trailed off as Astarion rose a little on his elbows to look at her. “You are definitely a biter.”

“What?”

“You bit me again.” Tav smiled, trailing slightly trembling fingers over where his blunt teeth left marks on her skin. “Are you a vampire, by chance?”

“Oh, darling. If I were, you’d be the first to find out.” Astarion snorted, trailing his hand along her side just beneath her breast.

Tav squealed and tried to get away from him, but Astarion was having none of that.

“Ah! It’s not fair! You know I’m ticklish!”

“I do. And I intend to abuse that knowledge,” he nodded and continued his assault.

Somewhere across town, Shadowheart was getting worried. Astarion had acted erratically last night. It seemed that not being able to confess to Tav was taking a toll on him. And whilst they weren’t exactly friends, she felt that she, perhaps, was somewhat responsible for his odd behaviour. Maybe telling him to make a move hadn’t been a good idea. After all, if they hadn’t told each other how they felt after years of knowing each other, perhaps it wasn’t meant to be.

Either way, despite having no obligation to nanny the elf, Shadowheart decided that she would give him a call and ask him why he was an hour late. In her experience, Astarion was impossible, careless, and highly annoying - but never late.

He didn’t pick up at first. And when he did, he sounded rather… preoccupied.

“Yes?”

“Well, good morning to you too. Are you planning on swinging by the office today? You know, since they still didn’t fire you and all?”

“Actually, I’m taking a week off.”

“Oh?”

Now that was new. She couldn’t remember the last time he took a holiday or even a sick day. Hungover or not, on his deathbed or not, he still dragged his sorry carcass to the office in whatever state he was in.

“Yes, so I would appreciate it if you didn’t call me unless the office is on fire.”

Shadowheart heard a giggle. A familiar giggle.

“Fine. Whatever. Perhaps we will actually get some proper work done without you getting in the way. Tell Tav I said hi.” Shadowheart smirked when she heard her friend give a muffled squeal.

“I won’t.”

Astarion hung up and tossed his phone onto the pile of his likely ruined clothes.

“So…” Astarion trailed off and brushed Tav’s hair out of her face. “Where were we?”

Because he meant what he had said earlier. Now that he had Tav exactly where he wanted her, he would do every single thing that he had imagined doing to her over the years.

💖 Tag list 💖:

@ninty900, @ayselluna, @dajeong, @ravenswritingroom,

@misscrissfemmefatale,

@clazberryk, @anukulee,

@preciouslittlebhaalbae,

@sh3rl0ck, @mellowenthusiast2299,

@fleetstreet78, @starlight-rogue,

@obsessedwhyyes, @arzen9, @hellethil,

@khywren, @maeryls-journal,

@larvasmoon, @xxnashiraxx

#The sexcapades of the toothy elf #bg3 astarion #astarion #fanfic #astarion fanfiction #baldur's gate fanfiction #Astarion x Tav #Astarion smut #baldur's gate astarion #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion ancunin #fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 #Roguish cat #astarion romance #bg3 romance #astarion is bad at feelings

88 notes · View notes

shintaru · 2 days ago

Text

🦢 m.list ♡ taglist ♡ recent fics 🦢

Synopsis ~ reaching for the same book & studying together

Tagging ~ @ravenwritten @sylith @zyart-jpg @wthphe1n @bfwooin @kuchisabishiiiii @i-nssomniia @czyinlive

Word count ~ 1,000

You scan over the selection of books in the M-P section looking for a specific book. “Hmmm Medicine Oxford textbook… no ugh where is it?!” You think to yourself worrying, the library closes in half an hour. You don’t have much time to check it out. You glance at the top shelf and spot it “ Ahh, Netter Atlas of Human Anatomy! Here it is!” You say softly aloud. Standing on the tips of your toes you try reaching the book but you just can’t reach it.

“Who the fuck put it on the top shelf out of reach?!” You think to yourself. Looking around you spot a stepping stool. “Perfect” you think, picking it up and placing it in front of the shelf. You step up and reach for the book in the same instant you feel a hand brush against yours. Your heartbeat begins to race when you feel his hand slide down to your wrist before letting go. You step down and turn to look and see a guy with a mullet and glasses.

“I need that book” he says looking down at the book in your hands and back up at you. “I need it to study!” you reply back. “Then we have no choice but to study together. The library is about to close” he says. You nod your head in agreement. You finally get a better look at him and he’s quite taller than you and very attractive. He has a small stack of books in his hands. He has a book on cycling, Textbook of Medical Physiology & Prescription Drugs “interesting choices” you thought to yourself.

You both find a table in the back of the library behind a large shelf. You open the book and begin taking notes, sharing it with the boy with glasses. After fifteen minutes of sharing the book you notice he fell asleep. You gently pull his glasses off so he doesn’t damage them while napping. He looked tired so you decided to let him sleep. As sleeping beauty found himself in a deep slumber you take over writing his notes not wanting him to miss out on the study material. You didn’t notice how tired you were until you started nodding off.

“ Five minutes won’t hurt” is the last thought you remember having before you’re being shaken awake. “Hmm, five more minutes!” you say, and continue to sleep. Until you’re shaken awake again “what is it?” You ask, rubbing your eyes you fully grasp the situation when you can’t see anything in front of you. “It’s so dark in here” you say. “The lights are out genius … ” he says. You would’ve given him a side eye but you can’t even make out his face with how dark it is. “Oh really didn’t know” you reply, rolling your eyes although he can’t see your expression.

“Do you think we are locked in?” He asks. “Probably” you responded. He turns on the flashlight on his phone while putting his glasses back on. “Follow me” he says while gathering his books. You follow behind him and he heads to the counter dropping the unchecked out books off. Heading towards the door he pushes it and it doesn’t budge. You watch as he tries to unjam the door by slamming the side of his body against it but once again it doesn’t budge.

He reaches at the top of the door searching if an extra key is left anywhere but he turns up empty. “What do we do now?” You ask. “Study,” he says. “Seriously?! We should find the light switch” you say. You walk around looking for a light switch but every one you found and flipped didn’t work. “There must be a main switch” he says, making you sign aloud. “Looks like we are stuck here till morning” you say.

“What’s your name?” You ask. “Jay Jo” he replies. “ Jo like Mahon Jo, the late legendary cyclist?! Are you related?!” You ask. You watch his eyes go wide hearing the name “How did you know?!” He asks. “The shared last name and the cycling books gave it away” you say. “Also you look like him when you smile. I used to attend a few of his races when I was little. My dad was a huge fan.” You say hoping you don’t sound weird.

Luckily he takes the compliment well and you see a small smiling forming on his face. He randomly pulls out a lollipop with a lime green wrapper offering it to you. “Here~” he says. “What’s this for?” You ask while unwrapping it and popping it into your mouth. “An apology fo-“ “ARFGH” you interrupt him spitting out the lollipop. “WHAT FUCKING FLAVOR IS THIS?!” You shout. “Shhh we are in a library and wasabi flavored” he replies.

“Who the fuck eats wasabi lollipops?!” You ask feeling your tongue on fire. His only response was the sound of him trying to stifle his laughter. “Oh so you find my misfortunes funny?!” You ask, looking at him. He shakes his head putting his hand in his pockets. “No, we should sleep until morning, it's not like we’re getting out” he says. You mod your head in agreement and follow him back to the table you both left earlier.

He pulls out his chair, taking his jacket off placing it in his lap and leaning his head back against the wall. You pull your chair beside him and try to get comfortable leaning your head on the table. After he notices you adjust your position a total of five times he offers his shoulder for you to use. Taking him up on his offer and closing your eyes you can feel him place his jacket over your chest. He was thankful you couldn’t see his face because his cheeks were a bright pink shade. After the heat in his face finally cooled he slowly fell into a deep sleep.

#Spotify #hummingbird crew #hummingbird #jay jo x reader #jay jo #jay x reader #windbreaker webtoon #windbreaker #windbreaker x reader #windbreaker anime #windbreaker manhwa #windbreaker manga

55 notes · View notes

letsdosciencetoit · 1 day ago

Text

Several Sentences Sunday

Thanks @chococara25 for the tag. I've been trying to edit my 5+1 today, so here's a part of "I'm Where the Spiders Go," my S1 AU where Tommy never left the 118, so Buck was assigned to the 122 instead.

I'm Where the Spiders Go

Oscar and Maria turn their stares from Evan’s retreating form back to him. Tommy leans back and shrugs. They don’t comment any further and return to their conversation, so Tommy figures this sort of behaviour might be par for the course with Evan.

He turns to Sal. “So I guess letting your probie out on calls is working out?”

Sal shrugs. “Kid works hard, makes solid calls, and is great at improvisation. He’s a little impulsive, but give him a little experience and he’s going to be one hell of a firefighter.”

“That’s high praise from Lieutenant Deluca,” Tommy says, mirroring his earlier words. “That’s a far cry from wanting to get the kid fired. I’m guessing the sexcapades are under control.”

“The kid just needed a firm hand and a little direction,” Sal explains. “I have him training during his downtime at the station. Giving him an outlet for his energy is doing wonders.”

Tommy huffs a laugh. “Glad it’s working out for you. Definitely feels like you landed on your feet with the transfer.”

Sal’s smile drops, and his eyes narrow a little. “Don’t say this to Nash, but the transfer was probably the kindest thing he could have done for me. I needed the kick in the ass to get my head on straight, and I’m going to make Captain soon.”

“Oh really? With such confidence, too.” Tommy’s eyebrows raise in response.

“Between you and I,” Sal starts in a hushed tone, “Captain Warren is retiring in about 12 months. I’ve already written the captain’s exams, and he’s prepping me to take over when he steps down.”

Reaching across the table, Sal grabs Tommy by the forearm. “I could use a good Lieutenant when that happens. The 118 can’t be as much fun without me there.”

Tommy looks down at where Sal’s hand is on his arm before flicking back up to meet Sal’s eyes. He’s ready to offer up a hundred and one reasons why it would be a bad idea. He doesn’t want to work his way up the ranks. He doesn’t want to leave the 118. He’d rather have Sal as a friend than a colleague. He’s saved from providing a response by Evan returning and slamming another pitcher of beer on the table.

The force of the gesture sends Sal’s half-full pint glass tipping over, beer flooding into Sal’s arm and off the table into his lap. Conveniently, Tommy manages to avoid the spill, and he would deny his quick reflexes had anything to do with tipping the rickety table away from him.

Evan wears a look of absolute horror on his face.

Sal stands up with enough force to send his chair clattering behind him.

Oscar is already up from their table flagging down a staff member for some napkins.

“Shit, Buckley!,” Sal yells, loud enough to make the bar go quiet. “For someone so coordinated in the field you are the clumsiest mother fucker I know. I should send you my drycleaning bill.”

Evan, to his credit, does not grab the napkins and immediately try to pat Sal down. He hands a wad to Sal to clean himself up, and uses the rest to start mopping up the spill.

“Like you own anything that needs drycleaning,” Gabriel calls out. “And don’t think we haven’t caught you trying to sneak your civies into the station laundry.”

The comment brings a smile to Sal’s face, no shame at being called out. “Fair enough. I guess this is my sign to clear out. Gina will be happy to have me home early, even if I do end up smelling like a brewery.”

Sal pulls his wallet out of his damp pocket and holds it up for the team to see. “I’m going to clear our tab. Next round is on our Probie to make up for his lack of house training. Make sure to order something top shelf.”

Maria, Oscar and Gabriel cheer as Sal walks to the bar to pay down the tab, then grab the pitcher already on the table and split it between the three of them. Maria holds the empty pitcher up, and shakes it at Evan.

Evan grabs it without a word, and brings it back to the bar where Sal is standing. He says something to Sal, but Tommy can’t hear it over the sounds of the bar. Sal shakes his head eyes full of mirth, and whatever he says clearly puts Evan at ease, because the kid has a smile on his face once again when he comes back with another pitcher.

Setting it down with more care this time, Evan takes a seat again next to Tommy. Tommy knocks their legs together under the table, and offers the kid a smile. “You know, if you wanted to get my attention there are better ways to go about it.”

I'm still wrapping my mind around tagging games, so I'm not tagging anyone back yet (it is also 1 hour until Monday here).

Tag list for I'm Where the Spiders Go: @teabroomsandbooks, @adian-ua

#bucktommy #evan buckley #tommy kinard #9-1-1 #9-1-1 fanfiction #9-1-1 season 1 #sal deluca #canon divergent au #tevan #buck 1.0

37 notes · View notes

ellesworth86-writes · 2 days ago

Text

WIP - La Mariposa Roja

Or: The family road trip to visit Bobby's grave in Minnesota.

Tags: Buck/Tommy; Athena acting as Buck's parental figure; May, Harry and Buck acting like siblings; grief; Buck has ADHD; Tommy looks after Buck

-----

“Ladies and gentlemen, we will soon be beginning our descent to Minnesota St Paul International. Please ensure you remain in your seats, return your trays to the upright positions and fasten your seatbelts. Thank you.”

As soon as the sound of the tones rang through the tinny airplane speakers, signalling the end of the announcement, Tommy closed his book and glanced at the two people sat beside him, letting out a small chuckle before placing his hand around the seat in front of him and lightly patting the person sat in the seat.

“Athena.” He whispered, trying not to move his body too much, trying not to disturb the two sleeping beauties beside him. “Turn around.”

Wriggling in her seat, Athena craned her neck and smiled at the sight of Buck and May, dozing quietly. May was currently leaning on Buck’s arm, her own draped around his stomach, something she’d probably done while she wasn’t conscious of it, and Buck's head was bowed, his own resting on the top of May’s.

“Don’t wake them up yet!” She exclaimed, angling her phone to take a picture. “This is so going in the group chat. I swear, the two of them get more like brother and sister every time they’re together.”

As soon as Athena turned back around (and after Harry also took a photo, for “blackmail purposes”, he stated), Tommy gently shook his boyfriend’s arm. The younger man opened an eye and squinted up at Tommy, a confused look on his face.

“We’re almost there, baby, coming in to land.” He soothed quietly. Buck stretched out his legs as much as he could, considering their length and the limited room in front of him. They really should have sprung for the extra legroom. Maybe they could try and get an upgrade on the flight home.

Suddenly, it seemed, he realised that there was a weight on his arm and stomach, and he frowned slightly before looking down and smiling fondly.

“May, wake up.” He murmured, and a groan came from her direction before she opened her eyes and sprung away from her makeshift pillow.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” She exclaimed, her cheeks turning a cute shade of red as she wiped Buck’s arm. Whether it was drool or hair, Tommy didn’t know, but she stroked for a second, then pulled her hand away as if she’d been burned. “Buck I’m so, so sorry, I didn’t...” She stammered, but Buck just laughed quietly.

“It’s fine, May, honestly.” He smiled, pulling her into a reassuring hug. “If I can’t be a pillow, what else am I good for?”

“And he does make a good pillow.” Tommy added in spite of himself, earning him a swat on the leg from Athena, making Tommy chuckle, then hold up his hands.

“Sorry, Athena!” He called, and he could swear he heard her huff and mutter under her breath over the sound of the airplane engines and general noise in the cabin.

“Hey, have we got everything?” Buck piped up, shoving his phone into the side pocket of his bag, and Tommy made a mental note to remember that’s where it was, because as soon as they stepped off that plane, he would panic that he’d left it inside. Buck panicked sometimes, especially when it came to not finding stuff. Tommy didn’t know if it was his ADHD or previous experience, but he’d found out the best way to help was constant reassurance and trying to remember where he’d left his keys/wallet/phone/earphones/whatever.

“Athena has everything, Evan, it’s all in her bag.” He soothed, and Buck’s face immediately began to relax a little.

“OK, good.” Was the reply, and he sat back in his seat while Tommy rested his head on Buck’s shoulder.

“And May’s right. You do make a good pillow.” He grinned.

“Shut up.” Buck mumbled, his cheeks turning red but his mouth breaking into an amused smile.

Tommy just hoped he’d see that smile while they were in Minnesota, because this weekend was going to be tough for all of them. But, if all went well, he was sure he would.

#evan buckley #tevan #tommy kinard #ao3 writer #current wip #bucktommy #athena grant #may grant #harry grant #grief

22 notes · View notes

reginaphalangelobster · 2 days ago

Text

Not So Secret Admirer - February 8th

Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: You continue getting anonymous Valentines and you're starting to speculate who is sending them.

Warnings: None, just cute

Word Count: 600

Part 2 of 7

A/n: So sorry it took me so long to update! I came back to this and thought how adorable it was so I will try to update more often.

February 8th

You stepped out of your bathroom, steam flooding out after your shower. You heard a strange noise outside your door so you threw on your robe and checked. You looked around at eye level and saw nothing until you lowered your gaze. Below you sat a small red heart shaped box. You removed the gold bow and were met with an array of elegant chocolates.

"Look's like someone's popular" Tony remarks as he walks past.

"It's not you?"

"What? No offence honey, but why would it be me?"

"No, I didn't think it was you"

"You've lost me"

"I mean, I thought you were giving these out like some sort of joke"

"No, but I wish I'd thought of that. I might mess with Bucky"

"Leave a note saying they're from Sam. But if it's not you, then who is it?"

"Not sure but that's genius"

"Well I try" You said with an innocent smile.

Tony smiled back "You're damn good at it"

"Oh! Cheek to Cheek"

"What?"

"Write "Will you dance with me, Cheek to Cheek" on the note, it's Bucky's favourite song"

"How do you know? He doesn't tell us anything"

"Loki and I stole some of Thor's Asgardian ale and got Steve drunk, he wouldn't shut up about Bucky"

"Oh you have got to tell me about that, and how dare you not invite me!"

"Alright drama queen, you can come next time"

"Yay!" He said in that quiet little voice, full of excitement and just a touch of mischief as he continued "So....Did Steve say, um, anything else?"

"What? Like...say, how he's hopelessly and desperately in love with you? Or how every time he looks at you he can feel the ice melting around his heart? Maybe how he prays that you'll make the first move because he's too scared to admit his feelings to you?"

Tony froze "H-h-he said, all of-of that?" he asked shakily.

"No" You stated blankly as Tony's face dropped "He's too scared"

"So he doesn't feel, like that?"

"He does, I know he does, everyone knows, it's painfully obvious. Except, of course, to you"

"So, um, do you think I should make a move?"

"YES" You practically shrieked.

"No, he doesn't feel like that"

"HE. DOES."

"Well, what should I do?"

"Really? You, Tony Stark, asking me for romantic advice?"

"I'm good at getting strangers into bed, I'm not good at real stuff, romance"

You sighed "Okay, do exactly as I say"

Tony waited for you to speak with baited breath.

"Walk up to him"

"Yeah"

"Tap him on the shoulder"

"Yeah

"Look him dead in the eye"

"Yeah"

You hand him a pen and paper "You might want to write this down"

He takes them and waits, pen to paper.

"And say, I love you"

Tony looks at you shocked "T-that's it? Your expert advice is, I love you?"

"Hey, I never said I was an expert"

Tony scoffed "You're useless, I'd be better off going to Vision"

"You would, if you want a statistical analysis of relationships throughout history"

"It'd probably be more helpful than you" Tony quipped as he walked out the door.

"Go get 'em tiger!"

You turned back to the box of chocolates sitting on your bed. You took one out and placed it in your mouth. You stopped. Your taste buds were flooded with the familiar taste of your favourite filling. You never told anyone which flavour was your favourite, no one but Wanda. Whoever got you the chocolates must have asked Wanda, yeah, they must have.

Tags:

@impetusofadream @goldfishthegr8 @avengers-official-recruit-agent @goreygirl03 @xenasolos @sparklyturtlefox @rios-sythe @nekoannie-chan @ilovemarvel12 @hayneyney @n3ponen @8812-342 @everyonesfriend @pinkthick @craftytacopiecash @meryuniverse @aliljaybird @justhereforthememesnangst @lonely-core @leloishere @macbaetwo @castielshunterwife @scarletluvsdanno @marcelinethe-vampire-queen @twentyonetornmyheart @neospacedoctor @destiel-1967-sammy @yigashimei @something0193 @ursamajor17 @colorfulavenuecollection @fairytailnerd1024-blog @daithideolishmer18 @am-i-the-villain-co @mameeta @bblessed @maximum-uwu @bbywonu @asteraddicted @mothmancrunch @maddydiesel98 @iloveslasher @fairytailnerd1024-blog @barnesfavdoll @devotedlydelightfulzombie @cardacespade @barryness @yelldontwhisper @nebthetautora @bigboistakeaway

#marvel #mcu #avengers #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda x reader #valentine's day #drabble #tony stark #tony stark x reader #steve rogers #tony stark x steve rogers #steve rogers x tony stark #stony

27 notes · View notes

cult-lamb · 2 days ago

Text

˖ ֹ੭୧ peter maximoff headcanons ⊹ ࣪

ft. angst ㆍ rambling ㆍ fluff ㆍ sfw - slightly suggestive languageㆍ i completely ignored cannon ㆍ i switch up between using pietro and peter :)

⸝⸝ ⟢ O1

peter is originally from sokovia, his mother was caught between jobs and the war going on there, erik was simply a one night stand and she had no way to contact him, so at ten years old pietro was sent to magda in america, wanda was only two at the time, she doesn't remember life without him, pietro changed, albeit not legally, to peter, he finds its just makes it easier for everyone

⸝⸝ ⟢ O1.5

pietro's mother tongue is sokovian, he naturally thinks in it and has to manually translate everything he says and what others say, though due to his mutation, people don't realise he does it, he also still has an accent, considering he lived there for the first ten years of his life, although he masks it often times, but it slips out when he's tried, angry, when speaking sokovian or when aroused

⸝⸝ ⟢ O2

peter considers wanda to be his biological sister, he will protect her to the death, wanda isn't aware that her big brother whom she adores isn't related to him at all, peter usually calls magda mom around her, just to make the lie seem more real, if he addresses magda without wanda present, he'll call her magda, his mother will always be his actual mother

⸝⸝ ⟢ O2.5

pietro did end up finding his biological mother, unfortunately she was at the end of her life due to lung cancer she got from the war chemicals she inhaled during the war, she told pietro everything he wanted to know, she shortly died after his visit, he still gets upset about her death despite not remembering the early memories of her very well and the memories he has of her when he was old enough to remember properly where blocked out due to the trauma of the war

⸝⸝ ⟢ O3

peter does secretly prefer the name pietro, although no one has called him that for years and years, the last he heard it was when his bio mother said it to him

⸝⸝ ⟢ O4

pietro's mind runs so fast, telepaths aren't able to understand what he's thinking, to them they get a jumbled mess of everything pietro thought, and considering his clear adhd, they usually overlap like crazy, it often hurts telepaths when they try and mind read him

⸝⸝ ⟢ O5

not really a headcannon, but for sokovian, considering on the map it borders slovakia and the czech republic, it would probably be very, very similar to them, i think it's similar to jamaican in the fact it's base language is english, sokovian's base language is slovakian/czech (although i know slovakian so i'll likely use that one lmao)

⸝⸝ ⟢ O6

peter is terrified of rejection or abandonment, it got to a point where most of his relationships he was quite toxic and controlling, he got his ass in therapy and mostly learnt how to manage and overcome those problematic urges

⸝⸝ ⟢ O7

on the topic of sokovian, sometimes he makes a translation error and says something like "me ate pizza today" instead of "i ate pizza today"

⸝⸝ ⟢ O8

pietro had an emo phase when he was 17, he got snake bites and sometimes he wears them 'just cause', he keeps his earrings in though, just some classic black studs, he is quite thankful he didn't go all the way and tried to stretch his ears

⸝⸝ ⟢ O9

(based on this beautiful fic by @bohnerrific69 )

his silver hair wasn't always there, he grew it due to the stress of the war and having to move, he was a mama's boy and being stripped from his momma to a country he didn't know and a language he knew 3 sentences in didn't exactly help

an. yes i am aware the fic is quite different to my head cannon but you should still read it because hello? it's gorgeous writing and also julia deserves all the love in the world because she's a sweetheart and an amazing person, am i fangirling? proudly. i have a big fat platonic crush on her

did this magically remove my writers block and burn out? boy i hope so..! anyway enjoy my rambling and nonsense about my favourite boy, i tagged this as my yaps because it has no structure and it's basically word vomit

tags. @anxiousgrungynympho

#evan peters #evan peters x reader #x men movies #x men #evan peters quicksilver #peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff #quicksilver #peter maximoff headcannons #headcanon #･ ⟢ ⋮ summer yaps ゛༝.

27 notes · View notes

cursedbycain · 1 day ago

Text

agora hills - Yan x Lane (18+)

tagging: @rc-catalog

synopsis: kissing, i hope they caught us

tw: explicit sexual content, oral sex (male receiving), rated E

wc: 2.3k

Softening his grip on Lane’s hips, Yan softens the kiss and leaves only their lips touching. The wind chill strikes once more, and she burrows deeper into Yan’s coat. His grip tightens around her, chin resting on the top of her head.

With the crunch of snow, they break apart. Yan’s fingers grip her arm protectively as they glance towards the sound.

Lane barely processes Noah’s figure before he yells out in fear, stumbling and falling into the snow. Yan’s grip loosens as they exchange amused glances.

“It’s just you! Damn it I thought some abominations were standing there in the dark.” He huffs, irritated, as he stands up. Lane raises an eyebrow, pressing closer to the warmth of Yan’s body.

“What are you hiding here for?! I hope all your important bits freeze off!” The adrenaline from the fear clearly hadn’t left Noah as he scolds them. Yan rolls his eyes, holding her tighter as if to protect her from the cold.

“Yell like that and you’ll definitely attract something.” Yan notes, casting a quick glance to the sky.

Noah mutters a curse under his breath and turns back toward the building, trudging through the snow.

As the door shuts behind him, Yan looks back down at her. His expression shifts into something softer, more open.

“You’re probably freezing,” he murmurs, pulling the collar of her jacket up. “Let’s get you inside.”

Lane nods, teeth chattering now that the distraction is gone. Yan keeps hold of her hand the entire way back, even as they climb the stairs, even as they quietly enter one of the upstairs rooms. Only once the door is locked behind them does he finally let go.

She starts unbuttoning her coat with cold-stiff fingers, but he steps forward and covers her hands with his, gently taking over. She watches him silently, his eyes focused, his touch tender. When he slips the coat from her shoulders and drapes it over the chair, he leans down, pressing a single soft kiss to her collarbone, right where the air has touched her skin.

It’s not just affection. It’s a quiet way of checking her temperature.

He begins to shrug off his own coat while she sheds her outer layers. She moves toward the bed and crawls beneath the blankets, stripped down to a simple tank top and underwear. The cold makes her curl into herself at first, but the room is warming with their presence.

She doesn’t feel shy anymore. Not with Yan. Not with the way he looks at her.

He climbs in beside her, letting the comforter fall around their shoulders, and immediately pulls her into him. His warmth is soothing. Lane’s fingers drift to the bandage on his shoulder, tracing its edge. Her hand is feather-light and cautious.

“Does it hurt?” she whispers, barely louder than the hush of wind outside.

“No.” His voice is low, soft against her temple. “I can barely feel it.”

He lets go of her hand and slides his arm around her waist, tugging her closer until they’re fully pressed together. Her breath hitches in surprise at the sudden nearness. His body surrounds hers, heat sinking into her skin.

“This,” he murmurs, brushing her lips with his, “I can feel.”

She doesn’t get the chance to respond. He kisses her again, firm and searching, his hand slipping under the hem of her shirt, his fingers skimming her back. He shifts above her gently, moving until she’s on her back and he’s over her, braced with an arm at her side.

“You should really rest,” she mumbles against his mouth, her fingers drifting back to the edge of the bandage, hesitant again.

But he only smiles, playful and sure. “I am resting.”

With a sudden motion, he rolls them over, settling her fully on top of him. Her thighs straddle his hips now, and he grins up at her like he’s won something. Lane raises an eyebrow but can’t help the smile tugging at her lips.

“You’re impossible,” she mutters.

“I prefer irresistible.” He lifts his head to kiss her again, hands sliding under the back of her shirt, roaming slowly upward. The kiss deepens, turning messier. One of his hands glides up to cup her breast, thumb brushing over her through the fabric. She lets out a soft moan, and he groans in return, pulling her closer.

She sits up just enough to tug the tank top over her head, tossing it aside before lowering herself back down, their bare skin meeting in a new rush of warmth.

His hands cover her again, reverent and eager all at once. She feels the shift in him, the tension under his skin, the way he trembles slightly as he holds her, like desire and affection are too tightly woven to tell apart.

“We’re not on a loud plane right now,” he mumbles between kisses, voice rough with restraint. “So we might have to keep it down.”

For a second, embarrassment prickles at her chest. But Yan must feel the change in her, because he presses a kiss to her cheekbone, then the edge of her jaw.

“Not that I’d mind dealing with the aftermath,” he says, warm against her skin. “They’re just jealous anyway.”

Lane huffs out a breathless laugh, and Yan grins, lazy and a little smug, but honest. He kisses her again, deeper this time, and everything else fades until it’s just the heat between them.

Feeling bold, Lane starts to shift down Yan’s body. She moves deliberately, like she wants to map every inch of him with her mouth. Her kisses grow more lingering the further down she goes, tongue brushing lightly over old scars, the warmth of her breath ghosting over sensitive skin. Yan’s body responds before he can even speak, muscles tightening beneath her lips, thighs shifting under the sheets.

His hand, still resting in her hair, slips lower to cradle the back of her neck, thumb brushing over her skin like a silent encouragement. Not rushing, just a quiet tether between them. His other hand fists lightly in the blanket at his side.

When she mouths along the crease of his hip, he lets out a shaky exhale, low and strained, his body tensing for half a second before it relaxes again into something more vulnerable.

She pulls his boxers down with care, watching the way his breath stutters as the fabric leaves him exposed to the air. He’s already half undone, eyes fluttering open to find hers. There's something interesting in his gaze, desire mixed disbelief. Like this moment is something precious.

Lane curls her hand around him again, firmer this time, and Yan groans quietly, his head tipping back against the pillow. His jaw clenches, then slackens, the muscles in his abdomen flexing under her touch. She watches him, noting every little twitch, every soft sound he tries not to let escape.

And when she finally takes him into her mouth, slowly, her tongue smoothing along the underside of him, Yan’s fingers tighten reflexively in her hair. His hips jerk, just barely, as if he’s trying to stop himself from moving too much. He murmurs her name, broken and reverent, followed by a choked laugh that sounds like it caught him by surprise.

“Lane…” he breathes. “You’re… fuck.”

Her pace is unhurried, coaxing rather than overwhelming. One of her hands stays at the base of him while the other smooths up his thigh, grounding him with soft, circling motions. Every so often, she glances up to see the way his brows knit together, how his lips part and his chest heaves like he can’t quite breathe right.

He watches her, completely undone, his eyes half-lidded and heavy with affection. The rawness there makes her own stomach twist, not with nerves, but something deeper.

His hand cups her cheek, thumb brushing her skin as if in thanks. And when he gets too close, when his hips twitch again in warning, he mutters something soft, nearly a plea, as if even now, he doesn’t want her to take too much.

She lets him linger there, just on the edge, savoring every sound he gives her. When she finally slows and pulls back, she presses a kiss just below his navel, letting her hand stroke him a few more times with soft, reverent touches. He groans again, deeper now, reaching for her with open arms.

“Come here.” he whispers, voice wrecked and low.

She climbs up his body, and he pulls her into a desperate kiss, all warmth and gratitude and hunger. His hands frame her face, holding her close like she’s something sacred.

Tracing her body, his hands slide down until they reach her underwear. Hooking his fingers in the sides, he gently pulls the fabric down. She helps him toss the fabric aside, leaning in to kiss him deeply. His fingers skim the inside of her thigh, finding the spot that makes her gasp into his kiss.

Lane’s breath catches as his fingers brush her inner thigh again, a slow, teasing sweep that leaves goosebumps in their wake. His touch is light but deliberate, grazing over where she’s already aching for him. She gasps softly against his mouth, hips shifting without thought, chasing more friction. Yan groans under her, the sound rough and low in his throat.

“Sensitive?” he murmurs, voice ragged, lips brushing hers.

“Shut up.” she breathes, and kisses him again, harder this time. He smiles against her mouth, hands slipping up to her hips as she shifts to straddle him, knees on either side of his waist.

There’s a beat of stillness, quiet except for their breathing. Lane steadies herself with a hand on his chest, feeling the rapid thrum of his heart beneath her fingers. Yan watches her, utterly focused, eyes dark and filled with something like reverence. His hands slide up her thighs, anchoring at her hips, holding her like she’s made of something rare.

When she reaches down and guides him into her, they both inhale sharply. He sinks into her slowly, inch by inch, and the stretch makes her tremble. Her fingers dig into his chest as her head falls forward, her forehead pressing to his.

“God Lane…” His voice is a rasp now, broken and breathless. “You feel…”

He doesn’t finish. He can’t. His hands flex at her hips, like he’s struggling to stay still. She’s already shaking slightly above him, breath shallow, thighs tensing as she adjusts to the fullness.

When she starts to move, it’s slow, grinding her hips down in steady rolls, finding the rhythm that sends fire curling through her spine. Yan’s mouth falls open with a soft, wrecked sound. His head tilts back against the pillow, throat exposed, lashes fluttering.

Lane watches him like that, completely undone, and warmth floods her chest even as pleasure coils tight in her belly.

He meets her eyes again, and there’s something desperate in his gaze. His hands slide up her waist, fingers slipping under the curve of her breasts, as if needing proof that this is real.

“You’re gonna kill me,” he breathes. “You feel so-” His voice breaks off again, swallowed by a sharp gasp as she lifts and sinks again, deeper this time.

Lane leans forward, planting her hands on either side of his head. Her pace builds with every thrust, thighs beginning to ache, but she doesn’t care. Not with the way he sounds beneath her, not with the way his hands roam her body like he doesn’t know where to hold on first.

“Let me help,” he whispers, and sits up slightly, one arm bracing behind her back. The new angle draws a shocked moan from her throat, and he captures it with a kiss, swallowing her sounds as she moves harder now, needier.

The room is full of heat, skin against skin, mouths parting and reconnecting, breathless gasps and quiet curses shared in the space between them. Lane grinds down against him, chasing the friction she craves, her moans growing more frequent, more uncontrolled.

“There,” she breathes, nails dragging across his shoulder. “Yan-”

His name is all it takes. His hands grip her tighter, helping guide her movements as she rides him harder, more erratic now. He’s murmuring her name in return, lips brushing her ear, voice trembling.

“Come on,” he whispers. “Let me feel you.”

And when she does, when her body tightens around him and she shudders with a low, gasping cry, he follows seconds after, pulling out quickly with a ragged groan, burying his face in her neck as he holds her tight enough to shake.

They stay like that for a long, breathless moment. They’re tangled and spent, skin damp with sweat, hearts pounding against one another. Lane sags against his chest, her hair falling around both their faces. Yan cradles her head against his shoulder, one hand rubbing slow, soothing circles over her lower back.

They lie there, skin to skin, breath gradually slowing. The air between them hums with afterglow, but the urgency is gone now, replaced by something quieter.

Yan shifts only to pull the blanket higher around her shoulders, then tucks himself in beside her, arms wrapped tight around her body. Lane lets out a soft exhale against his chest, her fingers resting lightly over his heart.

No words. Just the sound of the wind outside, the creak of old floorboards, and the warmth of his body pressed to hers.

She’s already half-asleep when he brushes a kiss across her temple, slow and lingering.

She sighs.

He holds her closer.

And together, they drift off into the kind of sleep that only comes after knowing you're exactly where you're meant to be.

#romance club #rc hsr #heaven's secret requiem #rc lane #rc heaven's secret requiem #rc yan #yanlane #rc yan x lane #yan x lane #lane📕#yan🎭#yan x lane smut #yanlane smut

15 notes · View notes

microwavetoaster-selfships · 4 months ago

Text

Answering questions from THIS ask game!! Doing these all for Leland cause he could really use some more attention as my best bud and I ought to do more elaborating about him and thinking about him anyway!! It would be really fun and nice to expand on him more!

------

HI!! FUTURE KANE HERE. So, funny story, I actually did this back in *checks wrist watch* October. I thought I never posted it because I never finished it, so imagine my surprise when I come back here to be like oh! Yeah! I have that ask game I was doing for Leland, I've been thinking about him a bit for whatever reason, I can finish that!!! And then I go through it and I've already answered everything. I reread it all, I think it all still feels fitting in my mind. I said I would post this last night and then I fell asleep. But I also still feel like doing the Grem and Acer thing so. That might also happen. Later. Eventually. Not to mini-post within an already big post or anything. If you read I hope you enjoy!

[ 💢 ] — did you two get along right away , or did you have to work through some difficulties at first ¿

We pretty much got along right away, I had quite and easy time really opening up to him and being honest with him, and it didn't take much time for him at all to start getting comfortable around me!

[ ⏰ ] — how long have you known each other ¿

Oh man.. well, for as however long I have known Finn as well! Which, I'd have to check... I believe it's been two years? Probably a little more than that, really. I had just spent some time a little while ago trying to find out when I first started posting about some of my F/Os on my old blog and when I made their playlists for them, it's not an exact date but it was quite the enjoyable surprise!

[ 🍊 ] — what would they say your favorite snack is and vice versa ¿ do you surprise each other with comfort foods often ¿

He would probably list the obligatory my favorite snack sort of stuff is Oreos and Cola, but he would also be so very quick to call me out for liking the McVitie's HobNobs, and he is so right to do that because I don't have those things as often as I'd like I swear!

Leland seems to really like scones. Like, really like them. But I can't entirely blame him for it, either. He will really take nearly anything, he always enjoys having at least something to munch at. He really like finger-foods though, or things like the DairyLea products

[ 🧸 ] — what's the best way to cheer them up ¿

Typically going out on some sort of fun adventure or rambunctious event can cheer him up right! Just something on a whim, normally the more eventful the better. Dragging him to an amusement park and letting him ride a bunch of rollarcoasters would probably hit the spot for him without it being dangerous at all, even if I couldn't accompany him on really any of them because I am weary of them so I'd probably just stick to one or two smaller ones.. I think he would love amusement parks and nearly everything about them, truly. I'd go to one even if it was just tailing him around.

[ 🌻 ] — who is more introverted and who is the extrovert ¿

He is definitely more extroverted. Honestly I think I'm a bit of an extrovert in the sense that I love talking to people and hearing them talk, even if I can get drained easily depending on the situation. I always just go with calling myself an ambivert, it's kinda like one of those "what is your main love language?" It's like.. it's too much of a mix for me to pick a primary one! But Leland is definitely social and outgoing and out there, he is not too shy or shameful.

[ 💫 ] — do you have a crush on someone that they know about ¿ do they approve of the person ¿ would they rather offer genuine advice on how to pursue them or just tease you about it ¿

Cough. Finn. Cough. Leland absolutely teases the daylight of out of me for it AND Finn as well. He's essentially the reason the three of us even hang out in the first place! He's enjoying playing the role of wingman on both ends I think, it cracks him up.

[ 👽 ] — how are they at co-op games ¿ are you both equally good or does one have to carry the other ¿

Leland doesn't play a lot of games, so outside from games that can be played causally or competatively depending on your preference, like Minecraft, Stardew, Mario, etc., most sandbox sorts of games, he probably uuhh.. isn't the most experienced, to put it lightly. I feel like he's prone to soft rage-quitting ones that have harder learning curbs or aren't things that you can't pick up and get right to playing essentially. If we did play any games together, REGAURDLESS of how good either of us are, he will still be absolutely as irriating as possible about it and completely humor himself about it too. He'd be the kind of person to completely screw over wheoever is playing Wii Mario Bros. With him because the screen is fixed to following only one player which ruins so, so, much if someone decides to be frustrating about it and not go through it together. He's the one in Humans Fall Flat that grabs everyone to drag them off of ledges or mess them up. In all fairness, he's very good at being humorous about it and actually funny with it instead of doing it to intentionally aggrivate me.

[ 🍾 ] — what's your favorite way to celebrate some big occasion ¿ are you guys the type to plan ahead or do you just do whatever you feel like ¿

Not many big occasions that we end up doing! But Leland loves decorating for Holidays, he practically considers the entirety of Autumn one big holiday and drape leaf decorations all over. He is very excitable about it though and I can't be surprised if he leaves lit scented seasonal candles in my own house/apartment or other minor decorations. Though he's cautious when it comes to celebrating because he doesn't want to accidentally get overwhelming because he absolutely will get over the top with it, so he normally tries to lean towards being go with the flow about it. Think PinkiePie celebration behavior almost, but more sassy and cheeky, and less loud or bouncy.

[ 🫂 ] — have you ever met their parents/caretaker(s) ¿ how did it go ¿ do you think you've made/would make a good impression ¿

I have not, andddd I'm not sure if I ever will🤔 Truthfully neither of us really ever talk about our family life stuff or history of it, so it's never really crossed my mind. I figured if he wasn't mentioning it perhaps there was a reason for it. I have no clue what sorts of folk he had.

[ 🌐 ] — do you text each other often , or is there no need because you live in close proximity ¿ do they send you random posts that remind them of you or spam your messages just to be a menace ¿

Me and Leland could(and nearly do) meet almost every day, and yet he still absolutely texts me frequently. Which, I do not mind one bit at all! I very much get random posts or like videos or memes that he sends me, most of it is just stuff he finds funny or think I would find funny. Some of it is like a funny picture of like a chicken with a party hat or something and a text message of "this you?/this is you".

[ 🧢 ] — what's the height difference between you two ¿

Leland is like 5'10-6ft-ish, so he looks a little funny next to me and Finn, both like 5'3.

[ 🧿 ] — have you ever made kandis / friendship bracelets for each other ¿ do y'all wear any matching accessories in general ¿

We have not made friendship bracelets together yet! I feel like if we ever did make any matching kandi items it would be something a bit more funny or an accessory, like a little kandi coin purse or those lizard kandis that can be put on keychains or bracelets or wherever you'd like. We should do that in the near future, though. Getting matching items as best friends is something I should perhaps explore a bit more.. so far all my bracelets or matching items that I have are of my romantic F/Os, and so my brain has like a perma(nt. Permant.)-association between my romantic F/Os and those things now! We have done matching nails before though of simple designs like just alternating black and white while pretending to run our mouths about different things or like we'd have any gossip(we wouldn't ever engage in any actual gossip, of course, cause that stuff isn't good and is just rumors).

[ 🌂 ] — do you share your stuff often (clothes , tools , food , etc.) ¿ do they grumble about it but begrudgingly agree or is it second nature to them at this point ¿

We occasionally split snacks together if they come in individual packs or things, I am very very particular when it comes to food(due to ReasonsTM that are lengthy to explain) and so I normally don't share food unless it is with a romantic F/O, and I'm nearly the same with clothing as well except for like the rare needing to borrow a jacket or such cause it's freezing and one is forgotten.

Biggest thing we've ever had to share is the TV remote and time with Finn /j

[ 🪀 ] — how are y'all at parallel play ¿ what's a hobby of yours that both of you like to dabble into ¿

A lotttt of our time spent together is just parallel play really! I don't know if this counts as a hobby or not, but Leland also shares my possibly more-than-average enjoyment of going on walks or like to malls and just window shopping. Hardest part of it is keeping it to just window shopping and not buying anything!

[ 🧼 ] — who's more tidy and collected ¿

Hmmm... good question, haha!! We're both a bit on the messier and cluttered end. I want to say he is a bit better about it than me, though; mostly just because a lot of his clutter doesn't end up on the floor and so if seems a bit more tame.

[ 🎀 ] — do you help each other out with picking outfits ¿ is your fashion sense similar or does it clash with theirs ¿

Our fashion sense is fairly quite different, we normally are wearing our suits so you wouldn't really probably notice anyway, but his fashion sense is a lot more extravagant and stylish with what he wears, not that he gets to show it off very often. I don't like wearing much asides from slacks and hoodies/jackets outside of people that I'm really close with or comfortable around because I am very worried over how I will be perceived, gender-wise. Cause of this reason I also reallyyy don't like people getting clothes for me or such unless it is like a pair of socks/hats/accessories/etc or I like.. really really super trust the person and it is like a I can't do it myself for whatever reason situation.

[ 🛼 ] — do you do any sports ¿ if so , have they been to your performances or big rehearsals to show support ¿

I've never done sports and I never got to attend jazz or orchestra like I wanted to in school because I rode the buss and they were before/after school events(or I was far too anxious to do the mandatory concerts or performances at sports at the time), so I've never had any performances for people to attend, really! Which, I kinda wish I did cause I think it'd be nice to have the open support like that! Maybe once I learn one of the dozen instruments I want to do I can do some one-off show at some quiet coffee shop or Cafe, but even then I don't think I'm really much or the performer type anyway..

[ 💭 ] — alright enough wholesomeness , embarrass them NOW . tell a silly fact about them , or maybe even a funny story .

He doesn't like to use my door when visiting. Gave me quite a scare the first few times around! But then I got used to it pretty quickly. He likes to be incredibly punctual over things, and so he at least shows up at the same time and knocks my bedroom window. But it doesn't really help that it's normally really early in the morning around the crack of dawn when he does it.

[ 💣 ] — is there something either of you does usually to annoy the other on purpose ¿

I mean, the main obvious one here is he teases the heck out of me for like-liking(understatement) Finn. But he absolutely bugs me on purpose with things, a lot of it coming out in a teasing manner, like me forever subconsciously having it in my head that the passenger seat is on the right and driver seat is on the left, or if I'm having a slow start to my morning he will do things to agitate me to get out of bed, like rummaging around in my stuff or telling me that he's going to mix the flour and sugar containers together in my cupboard. Though, I will say he's mastered the fine line of teasing/bugging me to where it is still lighthearted and humorous and playful and I get a bit of a kick out of it too, as opposed to being a hurtful or intentionally ignorant pain. He also makes jokes to me that whenever some british slang slips through me or the accent rubs off on some of my words after being surrounded by it for so long, he'll joke that I'm being converted or I have to get a nationality change now.

I absolutely return fire with him. Though he is lucky because he is slightly spared from being teased about British things because I'd have to be subjecting Finn to it as well. I often bring goodies like treats or snacks over when we meet cause I know he really likes those things, and I'll threaten to ruin his tea by adding things he doesn't like in it or joke that I'll deprive him of me bringing anything next time and we'll just have to sit boredly with nothing to do. There is also a right amount of playful slander when it comes to getting playfully competitive over things whether it be playing games or trying to outdo eachother with "I dare you to do [x]" when we are bored waiting for something. I'm not much of a playing dare games sort of person and Leland very much is, so it can be a bit funny that a challenging dare for me could be something like walking around with untied shoes while a challenging dare for him is something like being dared to climb to the top of a lamppost WITHOUT using any of his gadgets. It's all in good fun though so of course we respect eachothers limits or boundaries when tapping out or a different dare is needed. Of course, with all due teasing.

[ 🐈‍⬛ ] — what about pets ¿ who's the owner , what kind , have you met the critter(s) , do they like you ¿

Funnily enough I do have a cat irl, but I never consider or think about too much of my F/Os meeting my cat! I'm not sure why, it just never crosses my mind very much. I feel as though Leland would be too caught up in constantly running and going around different places that it interferes with him being able to have a pet. Second closest thing I would get to that would be perhaps some plushies like ones of a horse or something getting introduced to him, and he will absolutely play along and be like "Them? Oh, I already know them. Yeah, they spilled all the dirt on you while you were gone." And we both get a laugh out of it!

#I should really probably make a tag for him..#knock on wood but this is making me wanna write a thing between him and me just as like the equivalent of a short fun episode-#-of just two character friends goofing off because I think that would be great

8 notes · View notes