#Sometimes i draw at very questionable times of day WHEEZE

[insertsomthinawesome]

WRIO DAY. HAVE A 3am WRIO DRAWRING FROM LAST WEEK

[dozen-arrows-in-my-chest]

For the mun from a curious anon: What got you into Minecraft askblogging of all fandoms? Is it an interest in a certain type of Mob? Inspired by a veteran mcaskblogger? For fun/curiosity? Or something else? Thank you!

Oh! That's a fun question! Buckle in peeps, this will be a long one-

The whole story under the cut!

I've always been into Minecraft and the world from the very beginning. Since I watched my brother play it in the ole' alpha days. Of course, I snatched a cracked version for myself, as one does, just to mess around in and I simply fell in love with this silly barebones blocky game!

It was simply my favourite pastime after school. I spent so much time playing, building, crafting, experimenting with mods and watched so much content back then on YT- from animated stuff up to mock "found Herobrine" vids that are long lost by now. I was like 12 or 13 or something and it just so happen to stick with me and be a good chunk of my life.

I always drew stuff in school and my free time and eventually my usual wonky dragons and animals were replaced with mobs. Creepers and later Ghasts the most- they were my favourite. I also started RPing over on Ovipets and dA and tested the waters with creating characters of my own.

I am actually not sure what came first. Whether I made my first ever OC, Rainbow, before I discovered Tumblr or after the fact. What I do know- I've definitely scouted Tumblr by that time (2014/15) and was simply fascinated by the blogs that were active at the time. I do remember seeing older endermen blogs like Endy, Enderslime, Sammy and Guarana (from the top of my head) and more. I've rummaged through Tumblr for content so intensely, I've definitely seen almost every little niche of it. (though I barely remember most by now)

With the little but decent grasp of english I had back then, I started to draw Rainbow together with my (very basic) version of Herobrine and later enderman Ed was added to make it a trio. It was clearly my attempt at an "ask blog" though I started my first adventures with it on deviantART. These were practically my first experiences with answering "asks" as I sometimes replied to comments left on the images.

I RP'd, I made or aquired more characters, drew and generally just had fun with it. Later end of 2015/16 I made my first proper ask blog on Tumblr, called ask-the-minecrew. And then a bit later another blog joined in, ask-the-brine-bros. Both are long purged by now and neither took off in popularity. Not that it ever bothered me at all. I just had fun as it was ongoing and enjoyed drawing my characters do their thing. Of course I have a little personal archive in form of quick screenshots before the blogs got terminated. Have some of my personal favs.

My blogs were never really focused on mobs. They were along the ride, but never the main focus. Until I made a blog that survived to this day- @ask-enderhybrid-raashi !

This blog was indeed just an impulse decision. I drew a feathered enderman at an ungodly hour in the night and liked it enough, I just made an ask blog for her as my other two at that time collected dust.

I drew fun things, properly interacted with other blogs for probably the first time, and I still had no idea what I was doing. -wheeze- But I had fun and that was the most important part.

Again, with school, getting out of school, getting back in school, getting out school, finding a job and such as I aged and was forced to become an adult, my activity waned and I fell silent on Tumblr for a little while again. Though I was still very much lurking and occasionally drawing fanart of blogs that were still lingering around.

Then the recent (at least it feels recent still to me) shoutout that many major ask blogs and creators from that old prime time returned and were creating content again, I felt the urge to charge in again. With new fresh characters and a new shiny blog- I made @leafelt-valley out of impulse, with my first posts being roughly photographed traditional scribbles. I was testing myself out again and see how things go.

A little later @dozen-arrows-in-my-chest (this blog) appeared with the intention to be lore fodder for the little headcanon world/server I had. Just for fun banter and RPs. Of course both Lune and Sol grew as their own characters by now, both through interactions and silly RPs on the discord server. And while this- well, all my blogs- are just for random shenanigans at most, they suddenly have stories to tell.

I am too deep in, too invested to just quit and leave all this behind, even if the last blog in this little humble community dies out, I'd be willing to be the last one standing in case apocalypse strikes.

I improved a lot from my very beginning when I was still just a little wee child and I am simply so glad and happy that I never gave this little niche of the website up. I still enjoy creating, seeing and reading what people do with their blogs and I am happy to be part of this.

TLDR of all this: I wasn't inspired by a certain mob or a specific creator/blog. Instead I was intriqued by the community as a whole and wanted to test myself out with characters, stories, roleplay and simply drawing and having fun. I never planned ahead or had a goal, I just like this little niche of the internet. P:

[lakedo]

🥊

What do they love to do? What do they hate to do? Original post: here

Since there’s always chaos, I said that from now on everyone will answer questions separately, with no one intervening. No one will know what the others said. This is a monologue, in a closed room (at home)

In short, we now take turns and everything is said remains a secret. K, let’s start.

Unnamed

What do I love to do? I like writing. I like writing in totally silence, so I can put everything I think on a piece of paper. Everything I worry about, all in that sh*t piece of paper. Yes, I put my dark thoughts in there. Do I think my style is dark? No, they are just different. Do I let the others read what I write? Only a few of my stories, the 'normal' ones.

What do I hate to do? Mmh… I… I don’t like very much remember when I was, you know… when I was far from… from him. Since I’m a created stick, I’m very lucky having a sibling, you know? And being separated by the only member of the family… Not everyone has got a family. I mean, created sticks, I’m talking about them. Born sticks have everything. At least I think so? I never met one actually. I saw in an Alan Becker video that there’s this Purple stick. They are a born stick, I’m sure, but now that I think of it… they didn’t have a family? Well, they had one but then no? I can’t remember very well… and I don’t want to check, because this means going around internet, and I don’t want to go there anymore…

Wait, what was the original question? Oh yes, what I hate and love to do… Sorry for the overthinking.

Rakidi

Urg! Why do I have to answer? Hey? Hey! … HEY!!! WHY ISN’T ANYONE RESPONDING?!?!?!

*Sigh* I think I have to answer first. …

BUT I DON’T WANT TO!

I mean, c’mon, you can’t force me to answer! Right? Now I’m staying here, sat on the floor until someone responds to me.

…

I’m bored. -_- …

K, I’ll answer. BUT ONLY THE FIRST PART.

I love… I love… Mmh… *thinking* Oh, I love seeing the two when they try to fake their feelings! Hahaha! El is like: Woah Mindyll: what? and then El acts like: ‘El.exe stopped working’ and goes away! AAHAHHAHAHAAHHAHAAHAHAHAHSDAASDZ IT’S SO FUNNY! And … *wheeze* … and then they act like nothing happened! *rolling on the floor * *wheezing*

Sometimes I wonder what is like having a crush and feeling like them. In love? Is that the correct word? Nvm.

El

I like climbing. From above I can see everything. I also like discovering new things. Everything is… new, just… wow. Exploring is always interesting. Rakidi says I know very little of the world. He’s right. Every single day there’s something new. Even if it’s not… interesting? Funny? It’s always amazing finding new things.

I don’t like… I-I don’t want to be rude, but I don’t like dealing with Rakidi, when he is enthusiastic and energetic. Also when he spends time with Mindyll… Also, I don’t like when everyone calls me El. My name is Electriolet. It’s my name and it’s meant to be used for calling me.

That’s it? Can… can I go? I already finished? Ok?

Mindyll

Erm…

*thinking what to say*

Hi? (No wait, this isn’t a conversation. This is me just talking) I’m- (No wait, they already know who I am. Just answer the question) I love- (No wait, maybe I need an introduction. Like… like what?) Erm…

*thinking what to say in totally silence*

(No wait, too much silence. I’m acting awkward. NOW WHAT I HAVE TO SAY? Ok, don’t panic. Don’t panic. Now I just say what I like, without introduction and then… let’s see what happens) I-… I… like drawing… (Ok, now louder and continue) I like drawing on my notebook. I don’t like people arguing and arguing with people. I don’t like going in noisy places. (Great, I finished. … Do I need to say something before going?) Thanks. (Who am I thanking to?)

[tommyspeakycap]

Hi love, I adore your writing so much! And as you just asked for some ideas/concepts here’s mine for Jack Grealish from prompts list 2: fluff #11 where he’s asking her (she’s his best friend) to go for a walk cause there’s so much going on in his life and he just needs to talk. fluff #36, angst #31 and a happy ending please? Basically a Best friends to lovers thing as I’m a sap for that…thank you!! xx

Fluff #11; “I know it’s 2 in the morning but do you want to…”

Fluff #36; “because I fell for you, isn’t it obvious?”

hope I did this justice for you!

Fell for you

“Jesus god,” you grumbled with hands aimlessly palming across the mattress for the blaring sound of your phone from its place charging somewhere on the bed. Your next move is an elongated “Ahhhhh,” sound, fatigue still holding tightly onto your body in a way that seals your eyes shut even as you try to shut off the sound your phone was deafening your with. In a wakened state, you might’ve noticed that it was your ringtone that had interrupted your sleep. However as tired as you were you ruled it as your alarm right away and moved yourself into seated position with the duvet still wrapped tight around you and your eyes still shut.

You were suspended in that space between being asleep and being awake, still sitting up when the offensive sound came screaming through your phone once again.

This time, your eyes snapped open in fright and the fatigue-blurred letters of Jack Grealish’s name popped up across the top of your screen.

“How is it morning already?” You protest down the line, a heavy sigh passing your lips to follow. Jack’s chuckle can be heard through the line, “It’s not.” He replies simply, prompting you to pull your phone away from your ear to hold out in front if your face.

02:17am

“Then why on earth am I up?” You mumble, a question more posed to yourself than the man on the other end. “Wait, why are you up? And why are you calling so early?”

“I’m outside your door.”

“You’re what?!” You throw back your duvet and swing your legs over the side of the bed. You’ve hung up the phone already by the time you reach the front door at a tired shuffle. His hair is tousled when you see him, like he’s been running his hands through it over and over, you imagine that he has. He does that when he’s stressed. You have to squint against the street lights and his car headlights outside, still on as it sits running on the street. “Can we go somewhere?” He asks, his voice as desperate as his eyes look when he speaks, begging you to agree. Not that he would need to beg. You’d do anything for that man. Even if it did mean dragging yourself from your bed at 2 in the morning.

“Course.”

No question, no pressure. He loves that from you. He knows you’ll ask him later and when the time is right you’ll force him to tell you of course. Now is not that time yet and you’re nowhere near awake enough to do so much anyway. “Let me just grab my-“

“I have a hoodie in the car and your shoes in my boot.” He cuts in, tugging your arm gently out the door of your house. He knows you better than any other person in this world, so he knows full and well that there’s not much you are going to do in the way of protesting when you’re so soon out of sleep. He’d often teased with layers of worry deeper beneath that he genuinely worried for you living on your own. You open the door to people far too easily, and he will not fail to bring that up sometime tomorrow. For now, he steps into your doorway where you had stood moments before, grabs your keys from the cabinet and pulls the door closed behind him with a click of the latch locking behind him.

The cold paving stones beneath your feet make you shine in protest, shifting your weight between each one to ease the chill. In was in that cold that you look down and make the realisation, or rather come to remember the fact that you don’t have any pyjama bottoms on. “Jack!” You yelp, “I’m not wearing trousers!” You suddenly feel very exposed and rightly so, standing outside your home suddenly very awake in only a long claret and blue shirt that only extended down to the middle of your thighs. “Eh?” He whips around, “You what?”

It’s only now he really takes you in with rosy cheeks from embarrassment, your hair messed up from your sleep. His frantic eyes soften and his heart stops thundering in his chest finally. The sight of you there calms him. You’re there. Right there. His (y/n) is right there in front of him.

“What’s the rush, Jack? Is everything okay?”

Your gentle words and tired eyes bring him back to the ground, the flurry of his racing thoughts only now finally calmed. He often acts on impulse, but you are always able to slow his brain down a few paces. His sits heavily, "I know it's two am but...do you think we could go somewhere. My heads fuckin'... I don't even know." He dips back down to run that hand through his hair once again. His words stoke a bit of a worry in you, head tilted to the side in question. Jack doesn't tend to be the kind who gets himself panicked and all wound up like he has right now. That's more your half of the friendship. You did the worrying, he did the easygoing.

"It's okay, Jack. Of course. Come on then, let's go." You nod your head and he goes around the back of the car to get the shoes and socks he promised you. You very nearly choked up a lung when he presented you with a brand new Balenciaga box. "What the fuck, Jack?" You all but wheeze out, head whipping towards him climbing into the passenger seat.

"Got you a present 'cause I'm leaving soon." He shrugs with a jaw-dropping ease. You list open the lid and inside sit a pair of sliders that cost nearly £400. You physically gawp. "Oh my god."

"What?" Jack asks, drawing out of his parking spot on the street, "Heard you telling your mum you needed new sliders for the summer, do you not like 'em?"

His nerves would be clear in his voice if you hadn't been in such a ferocious level of shock. You're glad you weren't eating anything because it surely would have choked you to death. Of course you had seen Jack wearing brands like Balenciaga, Gucci, Versace and the likes, but you had never owned such an expensive piece of clothing. "I mean of course I love them, J but I meant from Primark or bloody amazon, you shouldn't have spent al that money on me." You protested, but Jack really pays it no mind. In fact, the suggestion that you don't deserve everything luxurious that this world has to offer offends him more than it does anything else. You should know that you deserve everything good that this world can give and he has the means to actually give that to you. He'd count himself an absolute fool not to.

"Gonna pretend you didn't say that." He mutters, eyes kept carefully on the empty road ahead of his car. Your eyebrows are furrowed, a part of you brain still very much trying to a) wake up and b) process the expensive of the gift he handed to you so casually. "Not arguing about it either." His voice cuts you off the second you open your mouth to speak, shutting down your protest before it even leaves you.

As the fatigue of your sleep wears off, your mind continues to be just as boggled as it had been the moment his name popped up on your screen at 2am, if not more boggled now.

"You're acting so weird, Jack. What the hell is going on with you today?" Your insistence is careful with your pressure. It's enough to try to open him up but not enough to make it sound like a confrontation. Neither you nor Jack like confrontation especially with each other. The words make him chew on his lip as he careens the large white range rover through a turn that leads up a gravel road that crunches beneath his tires. The stops when he's met with a with a large gate that prevents cars but a little slot for people to walk through. Jack leaves his door open when he leaves the car with a curtly mumbled "Stay here" as he does. He pushes open the gate with ease before he gets back in the car and follows the path up the hill further.

He stop abruptly in a very small gravel car park without any parking lines to abide and steps out, slamming his door behind him like he absolutely always does; you swear that man couldn't be quiet if his life depended on it. Which was another reason why you were so surprised by his silence. You clamber out after him with that same fear of falling flat on your face that always fills your mind each and every time you leave his car. But Jack is where he has been every time you step out the Range Rover since the first day he got it; standing by your door to hold your hand so you can jump out without a trip onto the gravel beneath. He shuts the door behind you and hands you a spare pair of his loose fitting track pants.

On an average day you might've teased the reason he hasn't worn them was because they wouldn't have squeezed the life out his legs. Today wasn't one of those days, so you slip them on without a word. Followed up by his way too big for you socks and the brand new black slides. Even wide awake, this confuses you to no end. Jack was never quiet and never elusive. He was boisterous, loud, open and confident.

The second you turn around, you realise why he brought you here.

The view of the stars, the sky completely clear. There wasn't a street lamp in sight. The moon provided the kind of spotlight hue that you kind of thought only existed in the enhancement of Hollywood movies. "Woah," you breathe, words stolen by its beauty.

"Yeah," Jack laughs, "Now you know how I feel every time I look at you."

You head turns to him so fast it sends your head spinning a little, or maybe that's just the shock of his words. You couldn't tell.

"What?"

He shrugs his shoulders, scuffing his feet along the gravel to meet up with where you stand. But he freezes before he gets the chance.

"Why are you wearing that?" He asks, a very sudden cold change in his tone that actually makes your body feel colder. "Wearing what? This?" You gesture to the claret and blue shirt you had thrown on in a haste to get to him standing at your front door a short while ago. You turn to see his unhappy scowl and the firm discontented cross of his strong arms. "Yeah that," he grumbles, "And where'd you even get it." He adds with a flare of his nostrils. He looks adorable angry like this, like he's trying so hard to look angry when his emotions lie truly elsewhere.

You look down at the shirt with furrowed brows, before you shift your shoulder forward, crane your neck and pull the material around to view the back as best you could. "What's wrong with it?" You ask finally, attempts to defy the natural state of your body failing to allow you to see your back.

"It's Ginny's." Jack states as if its the most obvious thing in the world. You just look at him bewildered. "And?"

He huffs as he takes a few more heavy steps up to you, looking like he had a lot of things to say without any way of being able to get them to coordinate from his brain to his lips. "Why do you have Ginny's shirt though?"

You breathe a little bit of laughter at him, shaking your head softly. "it was just a joke. I saw him after a match waiting for you so I jumped out at him and pretended to be a fan for a video and he signed it and gave to me as a joke. I just threw it on when you showed up at my door in the middle of the night. Wasn't exactly a fashion statement."

Jack still grunts in dissatisfaction at your answer, refusing to meet your eyes. "You have plenty of mine to wear though, don't need his." His argues in a disgruntled grumble. You raise and drop your arms down by your side with a sigh. He was really testing your patience now. "Hm, last time I checked you couldn't give me yours anymore because your ex didn't like it." You protest with a wag of your finger, making him turn his head downwards with something like a shudder running through him at the mention of her name. "Yeah well there's a reason she's my ex innit." He mutters under his breath.

"What the hell is the problem with you today Jack?" You exclaim, his eyes jolting to you in surprise. You don't often snap.

"First you show up at my door in the middle of the night and drag me out of my house and then you won't actually speak to me and now you're picking a fight about John M fucking Ginn?" You snap, the anger and confusion he had stirred up showing in your emphatic hand gestures that only come out when you're telling him a passionate story or going off your head at him. "He's your best mate, why would that even bother you?!"

"I'm sorry, I-"

"I'm not done, Jack!" You yell, holding out a hand. "You haven't even spoken to me all week. I found out you made the England call up on fucking twitter Jack, twitter! And your mum told me about you dumping your girl and I can't even get through to you and now you're buying me gifts and bringing me here? I don't know if I'm coming or going here Jack, you have to give me something. We're meant to be friends." You voice breaks on the last syllable and a lump forms in Jack's throat that he can't just swallow away. Any pain, any hurt and any slight sadness of emotion that appears in you shatters his heart. He thought that was a normal reaction until two weeks ago when he realised it only happens to him when its your upset he witnesses.

"I'm sorry." He says, his voice thick and wavering with the same level of emotion. "I really, really am." He stands right in front of you now, so close you're basically chest to chest, faces merely inches apart.

"And I'm scared." He admits, sending a pang through your already aching heart. "Scared because I'm leaving and I can't take you with me." His words tickle your lips as they leave his, clouds of air puffing above the two of you as his hot breath meets the cold night air. "You've done it before, J. It'll be fine." You soothe, hands gently raising to reach up and brush the hair out of his face. His let's forth a content sigh of relief at the feeling of your touch. "That was before though." He confesses with a slight shrug. He watches that furrow sow itself back into your brows.

"Before what?"

"Dance with me?" He suggests, his arms finding their way around you with ease, much less fumbley than you remember from your high school prom. Your head tilts in that adorable confused way that makes a grin form on his cold lips.

"Why?" You query, eyes slightly narrowed in suspicion. He laughs softly. "Because the music is slow and the sky is gorgeous and because I love you."

Before you get the chance to recognise, process or even understand what he said, he's swaying you around the gravel under the stars.

"Because you what?" You squeak, your eyes desperately searching his as you look for any reason this might be some kind of a joke or one of pranks that makes you want to throttle him. He just smiles at you with those crinkled eyes and the love shining right there in his eyes for you to see. Your stomach flutters like the teenager you were when you fell in love with him. His lips dip down to capture yours in the best kiss that your being has ever felt, his hands ringing your hair, stroking down over your cheeks with those warm hands of his.

"Because I've fell for you, isn't it obvious?"

[quaranmine]

The Babysitting Game

They say it takes a village to raise a child. Well, Grian doesn't have a child but he does have an egg and a village. That’s basically the same thing, right?

Grian acquires an egg. His friends help him.

No romantic relationships or content warnings. Mainly fluff! Hermits: Grian, Mumbo, Pearl, and Scar. My first publish fanfic since 2016 and my first hermitcraft fanfic :D ao3 link and some inspirations to be linked in a reblog

Words: 2862

•·················•·················•

"What if I touched it really quick?" Scar asked.

"No, don’t-don’t touch the egg," Grian said seriously. "Look, I even made a sign! It specifically says ‘Do not touch.’" He gestured to the sign in question, but Scar ignored him.

"Can I rub it?" he said. The man leaned over it, studying the object carefully. Grian hadn’t known where to place the egg when he got it, and it was just sitting on an anvil for the time being. He didn’t even have a starter house yet, but clearly he was going to need something soon if he was going to protect the egg from some of the more . . . mischievous residents of their Boatem village.

“No, don’t touch the egg! Scar-” Grian walked closer, hands outstretched, just in time to see Scar reach out with his hand and pat the egg.

Vworp!

The egg disappeared into thin air.

Dragon eggs had a tendency to do that. It was a survival tactic--Grian didn't really know how it worked, but just as endermen could teleport away from danger, so could the egg if it were touched. Now whether or not Scar was dangerous remained up for debate…

Scar giggled. "Oh, where did you go?" he sang, hunting around the area.

Well, he COULD be pretty scary sometimes.

"Scarrrr," Grian whined, helping him look. "I told you not to touch it!"

"It's over here!" Scar shouted, finding the egg at the bottom of a small slope nearby. "Just one more time…." He reached out again.

"No!" Grian said, slapping his hand away. "Look, you've got to pick it up the right way." He demonstrated, carefully lifting the egg and placing it in a pouch slung over his back. He had hurriedly stitched it together not too long ago, worried that transporting the egg normally might break it. “If you do it roughly, you’ll scare it and it’ll teleport away again.”

"I see!" said Scar.

"Now, please, don't touch the egg.”

"Oh," Scar said. He straightened. "You're really serious about this."

Grian glared. "I am."

"I'm sorry, I just thought it was funny!"

Grian sighed. "It's okay, Scar. It's just--this thing is a baby, it needs to be handled gently! You can't just go around scaring it! What if it falls into a hole or something?" he hissed.

"Oh my god," Scar laughed, "you're its mother now!"

"No, no, I'm not!"

"You are!" Scar cried. He suddenly stopped. "Oh no, didn't you kill its mother?"

"Well it doesn't know that!" Grian snapped. "Truthfully I didn't realize there would be an egg! And I couldn't just leave it, you know! Here, look at this." Grian gently withdrew the egg from its pack, and Scar moved closer. He held it up to the sun. "Look at that."

The sun shined dark red through the deep purple shell of the egg, making it glow within. In the middle, the silhouette of a curled up creature was illuminated. Blood vessels radiated outward, and at the bottom there was a blank space that Grian assumed was air. The egg’s shell was too thick for any detail to be made out, but the processes happening within were clear. Grian was enchanted with it.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

"Wow," Scar breathed. "There's actually a dragon in there! What're you gonna do with it after it hatches?"

"Well, I haven't exactly thought that far--I just want to worry about keeping it safe first. I mean, what do you even do with this thing?" Grian put the egg back in its satchel, and rubbed his eyes tiredly. "I suppose you keep it warm and safe but, like, I don't know what else-"

"I could help!" Scar said.

"You were just playing with it!"

"Hey," Scar said defensively, "that was before I knew more about it!"

Grian rolled his eyes.

“What are you guys doing over here?” said Mumbo, wandering over. Grian just knew he’d been up to something, and sure enough, there was a new tree next to his little collection of chests. Grian wasn’t very bothered by it, because he already had a plan to get Mumbo back for it.

“Grian is just showing me his new baby!” Scar teased. “He’s a mom now.”

“I am NOT its mother,” replied Grian tiredly, but he smiled at the sight of the other man.

“A baby?” Mumbo asked, choosing to ignore the rest of Scar’s statement.

“A dragon egg,” Grian answered. “I found it in the End.” He paused for a moment, feeling almost bad. “After I killed the dragon.”

“Grian! You’ve orphaned it!” Mumbo sounded scandalized.

“Why do you all keep bringing that up!?” he defended, glancing between Mumbo and Scar, who both gave him disapproving, albeit playful, looks. “I know you’re Mr. Peace, Love and Plants this time, but we’ve always killed the dragon in every new world!”

“Well, I guess that’s true, but it is a little sad isn’t it? You’re taking care of it but only because you killed its mum.”

“Yeah,” was all Grian said. The dragon always needed to be taken care of in each new world they visited, and while it was always a bit of a shame, he’d never really contemplated it that much. After all, he normally wasn’t the one who fought it--that last time in Evo aside. He didn’t really know what he had gotten into but he felt deeply like he needed to protect this egg. It was like a tug in his chest, drawing him into the egg and telling him not to let go.

“Show him the egg!” Scar said.

“You just want to see it again,” Grian replied, but pulled the egg out of the satchel again anyway for Mumbo to see. The surface of the egg wasn’t smooth, like a chicken’s egg, but bumpy. The purple spots almost seemed to glow, and occasionally little violet particles drifted off of it. Grian felt like he could stare at it in awe all day, and apparently his friends felt the same.

“How’re you going to keep it warm?” asked Mumbo after a moment of admiring it. “That satchel isn’t going to be enough, and to be frank, I don’t see you spending any time sitting on it, even if the mental image is pretty funny.”

Grian rolled his eyes at the comment, but thought about it. How would he incubate it? He may have had wings, but he didn’t know anything about eggs, other than that it was a safe bet to assume it needed to be kept warm. “I'm not sure, actually.”

“Hey, let me design something for you!” Mumbo said excitedly. “I could probably use some redstone and make an incubator of some sort for you.”

Grian smiled. “I’d really appreciate that.”

Asking Mumbo to create a contraption for him--what could go wrong?

•·················•·················•

“I’m not wearing this thing, you know.” Grian said, holding the contraption while Mumbo wheezed with laughter in the background. The design that Mumbo had come up with was essentially a backpack with heating elements strung through it, except for one thing . . .

“You-you wear it in the front,” Mumbo choked out, wiping a tear from his eyes.

“Yes, I see that,” Grian replied, unamused.

“Like a swaddle!”

“Yes, I see that.”

Mumbo laughed harder. Grian had to begrudgingly admit that it was well designed, however. It would fit the egg perfectly, keep it warm, and most important it was mobile to ensure that he could take the egg with him. It was thoughtful, especially since Mumbo knew Grian was quite protective of it.

“I’m not wearing this thing,” Grian repeated. “I’m not going to let you all laugh at me while I walk around the server with an egg swaddled to me!”

“I thought you’d say that,” Mumbo chuckled. “Here, you can switch the straps around and turn it into a backpack.” He unclipped the straps and moved them into the new configuration.

“Thank you, Mumbo,” he said gratefully. “This will certainly do the trick.”

“Glad to hear it mate,” Mumbo replied. “Now, while you’re here, may I ask why there is an incredibly tall tree on top of my camper?”

“Sorry, got to go!” blurted Grian, snatching the backpack from Mumbo’s arms and flying off in a burst of feathers.

“That’s unfair, I don’t even have an elytra yet to go chase him down with,” muttered the man as he watched Grian disappear.

•·················•·················•

Grian sat in the grass in front of his starter home and rubbed his eyes wearily. He was exhausted. Is this how all parents feel? he wondered. Was he just uniquely unqualified to be one? After all, this was only an egg! It hadn’t even hatched yet and he was already tired of keeping up with it.

Carrying it in the backpack was heavy, and Grian tired out quickly. It was hot on his back, and Grian found himself having to take breaks to avoid overheating. It was also cumbersome, and he found it difficult to build with as it shifted his weight. He almost fell off the roof once while building it! Of course, having wings meant that Grian could catch himself easily, but it had still given him quite the scare. Dragon eggs were pretty sturdy, and would teleport themselves out of danger if possible, but he was still so paranoid about breaking it. And now there was the Boatem Hole to worry about--what if it teleported itself into the void? These things kept Grian awake at night.

But if he left it...well, just like Grian had a tendency to lose items in his chest monsters, he also had a tendency to forget where he placed things. He had been forced to go back and rescue the egg from some place he’d left it more than once, which he wasn’t exactly proud of. What sort of parent forgot their child?

. . . He was definitely not admitting to being its parent.

Oh God, what did I get myself into?

“Hey Grian, what’re you up to?” came a voice, interrupting his thoughts. He looked up and saw Pearl standing over him. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail and her hands were in her hoodie pockets. She took a seat on the ground next to him, and followed his gaze overlooking the Boatem village. “What’s on your mind?”

“This--this egg,” said Grian. It sat next to him in its backpack, still radiating heat. “I don’t know what to do with it. I’m just so tired of carrying it around!”

“I have to admit,” Pearl said, “I didn’t expect you to immediately adopt a baby dragon the very next time I saw you.”

“Yeah, well, it was an accident.” Grian groaned. “I don’t know what to do with it now, let alone when it hatches!”

Pearl thought for a moment. “You know, the rest of us are all here for you. The other hermits would be happy to help out, I’m sure.”

The other hermits . . . well of course they would. If it was one thing they were all good at, it was supporting each other. Scar had already taken a particular interest in the egg, although Grian was still a little suspicious of him scaring it again. Mumbo had specially designed an incubator for it. Pearl was visiting him to check up on him and offer help.

All Grian had to do was convince himself to let it go. To let them help.

“I know that but . . .”

“But what? Have you had any reason to believe they wouldn’t?” Pearl asked.

“Well, no.” He thought for a while. He thought of how his friends would lend materials when needed, or how they’d help replace someone’s armor and items if they were lost. He thought about the days where they all teamed up and chose one hermit to help out, and he thought about all the things they did for the good of the entire community without even being asked.

His desire to protect the egg was strong, and putting it into the hands of another person almost felt like simultaneously a betrayal of the egg itself and the biggest leap of faith he could take. But the hermits were good at leaps of faith, because someone was always there to catch you.

“You think it’d be okay?”

“I know it’ll be okay,” Pearl replied. “I haven’t been here very long but from what I’ve seen, I know they’d all help. They wouldn’t hurt it. They might be a little mischievous sometimes,” she said, glancing at Scar’s house, “but they know how important it is and would be happy to help. They helped you before, didn’t they?”

Pearl was right, of course. Nobody on the server had any desire to hurt the egg. He trusted that. If there was anyone that he could trust, it was them.

But how would he get them all to essentially sign up for babysitting?

An idea struck him, and Grian scrambled to his feet. “Pearl, you’re brilliant. Thank you!”

She blinked, a little startled. “Always happy to help.”

•·················•·················•

Grian stood back, admiring his work. A near perfect duplicate of the egg that was currently sitting in the backpack slung around his shoulder, but at a much larger scale. It was built out of obsidian blocks and crying obsidian for the spots, and if Grian was pretty proud of how it looked.

If Grian knew anything, it was that his friends loved minigames. And Grian was not above gently exploiting that fact to get a little help--just like barge game from the last world, where he managed to get his friends to help mine out the stone from next to his mansion. Just slap the title of “game” on something and you could get a hermit to sign up for anything.

“Now . . . I just have to write the signs on the inside.”

The game Grian had come up with was officially called Tegg--he needed to stay on brand with his tag games in every world--but he’d mentally been calling it “The Babysitting Game” for a while now. Because that’s what it really was--each hermit who signed up would also sign up to watch the egg and keep it safe. He set to work outlining the rules.

RULE ONE: Protect the egg and keep it safe.

RULE TWO: Keep the egg incubated or it’ll die.

RULE THREE: Keep a close eye on the egg.

RULE FOUR: Call Grian if it starts to hatch.

Satisfied, he wrote out the rest of the instructions. Because it was a game, he wanted to make it fun for the hermits too, so he’d decided to make it like a scavenger hunt. People were allowed to take the egg, provided they adhered to the rules, and were encouraged to hide it and keep it safe. Otherwise, someone else who wanted to have it could get it. The safer the egg was, the less likely for someone else to find it. The winner was whoever had the egg the longest when it finally hatched. Grian didn’t know how long that would take, but he didn’t want to miss it either, hence rule four.

Yep, totally outsourcing his babysitting onto his friends.

Grian squinted at his wall of signs, before placing one final sign at the bottom: Grian will track the game and has final say on points and rules!

“That should do it,” he mumbled. He still wanted to keep an eye on the egg, to make sure that he knew who had it and how many people’s hands it had gone through. After all, he was the one ultimately responsible for it.

Grian pulled the egg out of the backpack and carefully placed it on the ground. He’d somehow made a habit of just speaking to it every now and then--he had no idea if the little dragon could hear anything in there, but he liked to think that it could. “Hey there,” he whispered, and stroked the top of the egg. “Some new people are going to start taking you pretty soon, but it’s okay. They’re going to give me some help and make sure you’re safe.”

He paused, taking in the little room he’d made and the wall of signs he’d written with meticulous instructions for the egg’s care. It may have been the first thing he’d built for this egg, but he had a feeling it wouldn’t be his last. A baby dragon was a commitment and for the first time Grian really let himself think about what that meant, beyond just an egg that he had to carry around. Would he house it? Train it? Let it stay by his side? Would he love it?

I think I already do, he thought.

He thought of the hermits--their mischievousness, their pranks, their hard work, their friendship, and their goodness at heart. They were his family, now. What was one more addition?

“It’s okay,” he whispered to the egg. “I trust them all with my life, but more importantly, I trust them with yours.”

[burnedbyshoto]

so sweet

— Well, you always knew Tamaki’s quirk was extremely versatile. You just didn’t expect him to be able to go this far. Or, a story in which you and Tamaki find out if he can manifest a pussy.

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pairing: amajiki tamaki x fem!reader

warnings: dom!reader, sub!tamaki, food play (whipped cream, strawberries), tamaki with a pussy, strap-on, spreader bar, blindfold, handcuffs, cunnilingus (giving & receiving), praise kink (giving), choking (giving), pwp-ish

word count: 4,037

a/n: day two of kinktober. i’ve been waiting for m o n t h s for a tamaki fucker to write this prompt, but no one had, so I did it. I have no regrets in writing this other than not making tamaki call reader mommy/daddy some shit like tht, but oh well. enjoy! remember to comment of fics you like :D

main kink: food play

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You never believed that aphrodisiacs actually manipulated one’s ability to get in the mood.

It just never made sense to you.

A natural ability to get your blood pumping, the hormones in your veins screeching blasphemy, stopping at nothing until a warm, dull, yet unignorable ache settled in your bones? No, it just seemed too easy. Especially with all the different quirks and abilities in the world, it seemed unnatural for people to even seek natural ways to get horny.

But still, upon being questioned by none other than Nejire about if you had ever incorporated food into your sex life with your fiance, Amajiki Tamaki, it finally intrigued you.

It intrigued you so much that you couldn’t help but bring it up one night after he had come home after a long day of work. His bed ready body sinking into the mattress beside you where you lay, reading multiple different articles on the sciences and best aphrodisiac foods. 

“What do you think about aphrodisiac foods?” came the inevitable question that passed through your lips as the man with soft raven hair pillowed into your side, his slitted pupil staring at you with mild intrigue, embarrassment, and exhaustion.

“They’re mostly unhelpful in battle,” Tamaki mumbles into your skin, the blush on the tips of his ears noticeable. 

Despite the history between the two of you, knowing that your soon to be husband still blushed as easily as he once did (sometimes over nothing) made your chest warm. “If I had to eat one from that category, it would definitely have to be oysters and honey.” Tamaki settles on his words with a content sigh. You have to resist the guilty flush at the back of your neck at his innocence of your inquiry. “Oysters because of the shell, and honey makes for a great defensive item and trap,” he adds a bit afterward, his calloused fingers running up and down your stomach, a gentle way of coaxing you into laying down with him. “Why?”

“No reason,” you smile down at him, your head pressing down to press a kiss to his temple.

But, both of you knew you were lying.

However, truth or not, it would be the question that would lead both of you to this very moment. 

Tamaki strapped to the bed, arms cuffed with black leather handcuffs, legs separated with a silver spread bar, eyes shielded from the world with a silk blindfold, and an arrangement of covered bowls sitting patiently around him, untouched, unused.

“How are you feeling, bunny?” you coo, your lips pressing gently to the insides of Tamaki’s trembling thighs. 

There’s no response, just more trembling thighs, a slight shift in his back as he adjusts himself, but you continue to press warm, painted kisses against the inside of his thighs. Tamaki’s pitched breathing continues to push higher and higher, the small, unavoidable stutter in his voice hitched, almost hiccuping as he nods his head. 

“Use your words, bunny,” you mumble against his skin. Pretty painted lips pressing trailing kisses up his thigh, your nose pressed into the crevice between his crotch and his thigh, delighting in the pure, unrestrained moan that falls from his mouth. He shakes underneath you, the growing needy noises of his unrestricted lust sending growing fires down towards your own cunt, singing blissfully about just how much he wants this. “I can’t move on until you use your words,” you try again, watching as his head nods pathetically, his bottom lip flushed red from his teeth assaults.

“T-This feels good,” Tamaki shudders, his body shaking under your change of movement, obviously liking how your lips press to the scars on his stomach, your fingers drawing lazy, imperfect circles around his cock head that’s weeping with precum. “I want more, butterfly, please g-give me m…ahhh... more!”

 “What do you want more of?” you hum, your lips tracing up his chest, stopping against the popping vein on his neck, your teeth-baring softly onto the vein as he curses the gods upon the contact. Your hand circles around his cock, the ridiculously hot length throbbing against your hand, and with a breathy chuckle, you grip his cock at the base. "More teasing? More alone time? What does my little bunny crave?”

“Everything you p-promised!” Tamaki curses, hips thrusting upwards into your hands, rubbing blindly, desperately into your expecting fist as your tongue stripes up the length of his chin. “P-Please, butterfly, I want everything you told me what you would do!”

It wasn’t quite the answer you were looking for, but you knew what to expect from Tamaki subbing. The growing wet patches on the blindfold emphasize that you couldn’t push too far, or else it would be over before it began.

“Which food would you like first?” you asked, deciding to push ahead, bringing the covered bowls to your side. You adjusted so that you were straddling his torso, smiling when he whimpered at the feeling of your hot cunt against his body. 

“W-Whipped cream,” he breathed so quietly you almost missed it. Smiling to yourself, you grabbed the small cylinder container and focused your attention on his light brown nipples and prominent collarbone. 

“Whipped cream it is,” you tease, your head stretching down so that your lips pressed two painted and wet kisses over his hardened nipples, and the soft, sugary moan that passed his lips in result nearly made you abandon this entire scenario altogether. 

This was just for initial contact, to wet his skin, you had to repeat in your head as your tongue flicked over his warm nipple, his hips snapping up into the abandoned air as you slinked forward to press light, intentioned kisses to his collarbone.

Right as his bitten ruby red lips opened to demand something more from you, you pressed the canister to his abandoned nipples and allowed the application of the sticky wet and white sugar onto his body. Your teeth continued to nibble on his collarbone as you did this, watching his every reaction — little and big — in an attempt to see just how much he liked it. 

When you finally pulled away, you made sure to leave with a loud pop, smiling at the loud whine that escaped his lips when you sprayed the food against his collarbone. 

“Imma lick it off now,” you explained, fingers raking just hard enough to leave a trail of goosebumps as you planted your ass onto his throbbing, hard cock. “Do you want to watch?”

“I d-don’t—” he hiccuped, breathing erratic, face dangerously red beneath the blindfold. “I don’t know!”

“Okay, no worries, bunny,” you coo, fingers stroking his wet cheeks. “I’ll let you test it out. I’ll lick the first one off without you looking, and you’ll tell me how you like it, okay?”

“T-That sounds good,” he agrees, and you waste no time.

Your mouth envelopes his sugar covered nipple, the sweet thickness of the cream being swallowed in your mouth as you push even further. Tamaki cries beneath you.

Humming, your tongue laps at the sticky sugar on his skin, the salty taste of his skin, and the sweet of the sugar invading your taste buds. You do your best to hold him down, your teeth taking his pebbled nipple in and tugging on it until the light brown color of his nipple turns red until he’s rutting senselessly and desperately into your clothed cunt.

Desperate and needy for more. 

Your fingers dive beneath the breast of his chest, teasing the muscled valley as you continue lapping his nipple into overstimulation.

“The next one!” he wheezes. “P-Please, butterfly, the next tone!”

“Do you want to watch?” you ask, stupidly addicted to the way his nipple tastes in your mouth. “Wanna watch me suck your nipple?”

Tamaki shakes his head frustratedly, longingly, “I can’t, it’ll make me cum!”

You almost feel sorry for him.

You perform the same exact thing to his other nipple, teeth tugging at the sensitive skin, tongue swirling the throbbing skin in your mouth until he’s begging for something more, anything more. You sticky fingers taking his other swollen nipple, pinching and pulling it until he can only mantra your name. You wish you were strong enough to deny him, but the rutting against your covered cunt, the delicious sultry whines, and breathy moans and tears that stream down his face is too much for you.

You’re up off his torso, your fingers ripping off your panties with reckless abandon.

Tamaki’s breathing is heavy, almost delirious as your fingers tug down the silk blindfold, so it's fallen to his neck. It sits around his skin, wet and shiny. But Tamaki’s tear-soaked eyes are scrunched closed when your lips suddenly press to his.

Chapped, swollen, and hot lips quiver against yours, so nervously, so messily, you’re nearly kissing just his teeth. 

“I needa—” he pants, his head tilting to that your nose meets his mouth. “I needa cum, butterfly, please.”

You hum, a bit disappointed in the relatively quick ending of your kiss, but you pulled away. Twisting around, your arm stretched out, and you went into an abandoned bowl. Tamaki watched you like a hawk.

With a hammering heart, and heat pulsating through your entire body, you turned your head to look at him. It was slow, methodic, and seductive, and Tamaki’s teeth found his bottom lip once again as you met his eyes through hooded eyes. 

“Open up, bunny.” 

Obediently, Tamaki’s mouth opened, and you brought your hand to his line of sight, and clutched between your warm fingers was a bright red strawberry covered in white, sweet cream. “Eat it quickly,” you drawl slowly as you press the strawberry to his lips, smiling slowly when the white cream covers his equally red lips. “I have an even better dessert after this.”

The gulp from his throat sent a maddening, delirious shiver down your spine.

And he devoured it without a moment of hesitation.

Licking the remaining cream on his lips, you giggled when he gasped against your tongue, and you moved.

Pushing up off the bed, you felt power thrum through you as his eyes darkened in lust and his still growing need as you gently pressed his forehead to the mattress. His breathing seemed to stop as the two of you stared at one another, like a prey looking eyes with a predator, knowing the inevitable outcome of the nearing events.

“Don’t disappoint me,” you tease, lowering yourself to his eagerly awaiting mouth.

The moan that poured through your spine was nearly immediate; the feeling of his cold tongue and wet lips pressing against your slick covered cunt was exhilarating as it was relieving. Your eyes instantly rolling to the back of your head when his strawberry coated tongue pushed through your swollen lips to lap at your pulsating core.

A breathless, whining sigh escaped your lips when Tamaki’s nose carted between your folds, the tip of his nose brushing against your sensitive clit, and you rotate your hips in your content.

“Yes, bunny, just like that. Eat my pussy just like that!” you cry in joy, your fingers pushing your breasts free from your bra to pull and tug at your attention-demanding nipples. “You eat me out s-so good, pretty little mouth, slutty little tongue.”

At the mention of slut, Tamaki moaned deep within you, his tongue vibrating in your core with his verbal appraisal, and your toes curled at the alluring sensation. 

Grabbing a fistful of his hair, you began to rock your hips faster against his face, your chest puffing with pride when Tamaki’s hands banged against the restraints, a telling that he wanted to touch you, and the stupid, soft, needy gasps passed into your core only drove you on further. A whimper went through you when you leaned slightly forward, your clit unapologetically pressing against his nose, and the electric stimulation coursing through your body with that alone had your toes curling. And the pressure in your lower belly was only growing more and more.

His tongue continued to lap within you, the nearly greedy slurps he took with your growing aggressive rutting making you sing his name in praise and encouragement. Amajiki Tamaki was many things, and his ability to use that tongue was a higher skill of his you personally enjoyed. 

“Taste so good,” Tamaki babbled from beneath you, his mouth latching onto your clit. “So, so good.”

It’s the moment his teeth sink against your clit that you slam forward, hand banging against the wall to steady you as an orgasm rips through you, the shriek on your tongue echoing off the wall. 

All is silent for a bit as you roll off your fiancé's right side who is panting heavily, his eyes closed as he breathes in steadily, the shine of your slick on his face bright under the dim lights of the room. You blink as you stare at him, the serenity on his face from making you cum without a doubt the cause of it, but you weren’t done with this night.

Not yet.

“Bunny?” you whisper questioningly against his pointed ear, grinning slowly as the tip flushes red and goosebumps flash across his skin. 

“Y-Yes?” Tamaki stammers, his eyes screwing tighter instead of opening.

A sugar-sweet giggle is unable to be stopped as you press forward, your teeth nibbling on his ear just hard enough that the sound Tamaki makes is a cross between throbbing lust and gently pain. He trembles as he does so, and you can’t help but swell in the thought that right now, especially as he shakes, he looks like a defenseless, needy bunny.

“I want to see you try it now,” you request, your left hand supporting your head, and your right hand tracing a single finger down his twitching abdominal muscles until it reaches his weeping cock. You grasp his throbbing cock firmly, contently studying the way he resists against his restraints as his back arched off the bed, hips blindly thrusting into your fist. “I want to see you manifest a pussy, bunny,” you nearly whine as your grip on his cock only tightens.

“A-Ah!” Tamaki cries, his face flushed a dark red. His hips instinctively rut up to your grasp, but you’re smart enough now, and you follow it, denying him the friction he so craves. “I-I-I can’t!”

“Why not?” you pout, drawing even closer to his blushing face, smirking when you could feel the pulsing blood in his face radiate off onto you. “Why won’t you try for me, bunny? I know you can do it! You’d look so cute with a pussy like mine, so tight, so wet, so… sweet.”

Tamaki splutters when your tongue swipes against his lips, and he still tastes of you and strawberries.

So sweet.

“Do it for me, bunny, I wanna see it…”

“W-What if I can’t?” Tamaki almost sobs, and you warm at his words.

“Then I’ll ride your cock until your cock is bruised, and I’m pregnant with your kids,” you promise, your lips pressing against his despite the obvious whimper on his tongue.

Then, you felt it.

The cock in your fist began to change. Warm energy emitting from where his cock once was as you pulled away from his quivering lips to look at the pretty pink pussy that manifested where his cock once was. It was void of pubes, looking as smooth as a baby’s butt, and was absolutely soaked.

If you thought you’d had heard the pitchiest squeak coming from Tamaki’s mouth before, it was nothing like this when he too took a look at his pussy.

“O-Oh my god,” he breathlessly whispers, and you feel a thrilling sensation rock through your entire body as you’re now much more focused on the gleaming cunt on your fiancés lower body. 

In an almost trance-like feeling, you had the spreader bar in your fist and slammed it up to his face so that he could hold it. The simple action allowing Tamaki’s fully formed cunt to spread open for you in all its soaked glory. The smell of his sex alluring and almost spicy as you found your tongue shoved all the way into his awaiting cunt, and he howled.

A wordless command passed through your body as you let go of the cold spreader bar to Tamaki, who held it above his head as if it was his lifeline. You took sloppy, loud, and aggressive licks and sucks o his sweet essence, moaning at the copious amount of slick that easily poured from his cunt that throbbed like a vice around your tongue.

You wanted more from him, you craved more for him, and before you knew it, your fingers were curled above your tongue. You could feel the puffiness of his inner walls, and you delighted more when his clit against your nose throbbed with vivacity. 

“Y-Y/N!” Tamaki all but screams as you drunkenly drink his sweet essence, delirious on the taste and the sounds he was making. “My stomach — fuck, fuck, fuck — my stomach feels so funny! It’s feeling so-o aahhh, oh my god, so tingly!”

And you rip away.

Your eyes are owlishly large as you stare at the now writhing with discontent Tamaki who was crying with the unknowing need to cum.

He was close, you realized, so fucking close.

“Don’t leave me!” he shrieked as you tumbled off the bed, your legs feeling weak with your growing euphoria. “Finish what you started!”

A chuckle rips through your body as you pull up the harness that was hanging by the nightstand.

“Oh, I intend to, bunny.”

With a loud zipping of fabric, Tamaki’s head snapped upward to look at you, and you smiled knowingly.

His eyes were red and swollen with his tears, his face red as you’ve ever known, and his exposed cunt (which was still exposed as his hands pathetically still held onto the spreader bar) was soaking the bed with his essence, but he couldn’t even bear to feel embarrassed.

Why?

Well, strapped to your hips, and supported around your thighs was a pretty pink harness with a massive, veined, curved, cum spilling dildo attached to it.

“Do you like it?” you ask innocuously, your finger pressing to your bottom lip.

He can only gulp.

“I think,” you start off slowly, crawling back onto the bed to sit right before his exposed cunt. Your hands move to the cuffs on the spreader bar to slowly release his ankles from the restraints. “Well, I just love when you cum deep within me… and your cock is so big, so good, I just had to repay you for always fucking me so. fucking. good.”

“B-Butterfly!” he keens as you allow his legs to drop to the sides of you, and you sit up off your knees, placing the head of the dildo between his pink lips. His head falls to the mattress, his back arching as you continue to slick the dildo up with his dripping slick. 

“Hm?” you answer, looking into his dark, glazed over eyes. Your hips, however, continue to shallowly thrust against the folds of his pussy, coating the pink silicone with shiny slick. A lazy smirk falls on your lips at the sight of his red face. “What do you want, Ta-ma-ki?”

“Fuck me.”

You didn’t need to be told twice.

With one hand guiding the head of the pink dildo into his pink, quivering cunt, and the other on his trembling thigh, you pushed through his tight entrance.

The moan that bubbled past Tamaki’s lips was near-pornographic as you as calmly as you could, pushed all the way in. You allowed Tamaki to adjust to the cock in his cunt, undoubtedly new to the sensation that having a thick, long cock buried deep within your cunt felt like. His hands, still bound to the headboard, were clawed in his sensual pleasure, and you enjoyed the way his eyelids fluttered, his eyes rolled to the back of his head.

His hips twirled against the dildo, and you looked down, truly fascinated with the way his pussy squeezed around the strapon that you imagined as an extension of yourself. Imagining the sensation of his cunt against your strap, the heated slick of his cunt, and you felt your own heat blazing down your inner thighs.

“So cute, so pretty,” you purr, your hips falling back before softly thrusting back into him.

The sight of the dildo disappearing into his cunt is inconceivable, and despite his choking, gasping breaths, you pull out and thrust back in. 

Again.

“Oh.”

Again.

“O-Oh my—”

Again.

“Y-Y/N!” Tamaki wailed as suddenly your hips were thrusting into him, delivering the pretty pink dildo all the way until you felt the natural barrier of his cervix. But you were hooked on this power. The dizzying sensation that boiled deep within your bloodstream as Tamaki thrashed beneath you.

Your fingers dug into his thighs, pressing his knees into the mattress as you pressed up, allowing for the new angles of gravity to help thrust down heavier, harder, faster.

“Such a sweet, perfect pussy,” you gasp against Tamaki’s sweaty, exposed neck. “You’re so good, bunny, so tight and cute around my cock. Do you like my cock? Do you like the way it feels to be stretched out like this? To be fucked to irrationality? This is how you make me feel all the time, bunny. You understand that I needed to repay you, right?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” Tamaki cried, the babbling yes’s growing louder and continued as you continued to drill into him, the squelching of his pussy, and the slapping of your thighs on his ass coming together to play a symphony only the two of you would know.

His hiccuping sobs are stopped when your fingers blindly snatched a strawberry from the nearby bowl, shoving it within his mouth. You drink in the way the flesh of the berry breaks against his lips and the way he sloppily, almost pathetically eats it from your fingers. The sticky sweet red juices spill past his lips, dribbling down his chin as he attempts to eat it, and you lean forward, licking the juices that escape his mouth clean off his skin.

You trail up, kissing, licking, and biting every piece of unattended flesh, and with your fingers still in his mouth, you kiss him.

“My stomach!” Tamaki cries against your tongue and fingers. “It feels — r-right there — it feels tingly! Like it's on.. ahhh, on fire!”

“That’s a good thing, bunny,” you swear, your hips powerful, sharp, and delivering upon every fantastic dick down he had ever given you. Your free hand reaches for the blindfold that went ignored for so long around his neck, and with the renown power of being a pro hero, you tightened it around his throat, choking him of his mindless babbling, making him arch off the mattress. “That means you’re gonna cum, cum for me, bunny, cum. Cum and I'll fill you up with my cum too, you'll look so cute with my cum dripping from your cunt, wouldn't ya, bunny?”

And then, it happens, Tamaki’s teeth bite down on your fingers, eyes crossing and rolling to the back of his head. His body going rigid for a second before massive trembles shake through his entire body, and the unfamiliar whirring of the dildo informs you that it caught onto his orgasm. In return, it hums as fake cum spills from the dildo, splattering into Tamaki’s pretty pink cunt.

His body trembles as he collapses completely against the mattress, and you can only stare after him, your own breathing scattered and shallow as he seems to be transcending from his body as he lays there. Bliss painted in every corner of his body.

You move out, letting the massive dildo escape his tight cunt, and you’re pleased when the white cum slowly seeps from his slit.

It was then that you realized just how extremely lucky you were to be marrying someone like Tamaki, and you paused, thinking about just how many things the two of you could now do.

Oh yeah, this was definitely going to be a journey.

[poguestvff]

LIKE A BIG SISTER SHOULD — WHEEZIE CAMERON

in which wheezie cameron finds that blood doesn’t make you family, love and affection does.

taglist | masterlist | 2.5k words | @pogueslandia ,

warning(s): food, she/her pronouns, ward slander, a little sarah slander but that’d include reading between the lines. why’d this make me want to make a series of reader and Wheezie being best friends.

There's always been a heavy feeling of loneliness that rested upon the youngest cameron's shoulders, weighing her down as it seemed to pile over the years. Her siblings were always older, an age gap between them that even if it was shortened by a few years, their worlds would still be two different things. All three of them were in three different stages of life yet somehow it felt like Wheezie wasn't even there at times.

Throughout the entirety of her schooling career so far, everything had somehow been about Rafe and Sarah. Sarah was the perfect one; the paragon who could do no wrong. Even if Sarah tried to disobey, it'd be turned around to be made out as a minute mistake. She'd probably be able to get away with it a second time if she did it a different way. Maybe the same way.

Rafe was quite the opposite. The bastard child who needed a plentiful amount of attention in hopes he can be more like the paragon. With all this attention, his head only grew. It never gave him the space for growth. It minimized the space to stay exactly where he was for years on end.

This left Wheezie to be the ostracized sibling. She wasn't a social butterfly or a poster child like Sarah and she definitely wasn't a loner or the 'damaged goods' child like Rafe. She was just... average. With average grades and an average personality. Just average old Wheezie. She told herself this consistently, watching her father balance his attention between making sure Rafe stayed between the lines he'd drawn for him in a radius such as a dart board and allowing Sarah step out of them, even erasing some of the lines so she could walk on by them without a second thought.

But Wheezie was stuck in that tiny little circle in the middle, the bullseye as if scared to move out of those lines. The one place that was the hardest to pinpoint specifically by her father. But there was one thing Ward Cameron always said correct about his younger daughter. That he wouldn't be able to pin point his little dart of control into the middle of the board because she was misunderstood and misunderstood she was.

Though one person had been able to pick up on every single one of Wheezie's emotions.

Y/n Y/L/N was a pogue who had done tutoring on the side for a little extra money and when John B had recommended Y/n for help with Wheezie's homework, Ward was quick to say okay. He hardly even asked a thing about Y/n, just telling her to help Wheezie pass eighth grade and that was all. It was made very apparent to Y/n that was Wheezie was not as much of a priority to Ward as other things were.

Their first tutoring session, Wheezie was awfully dismissive. She didn't care for any of Y/n's efforts as they sat within the comfort of Wheezie's bedroom. She just wanted the entire hour to be over with the second she'd entered her room but Y/n was insistent, knowing that by the end of the school year she would have something instilled in Wheezie's brain. She just didn't know what that something was yet.

The second time they met, Y/n was more passive aggressive in hopes of breaking down the brick walls Wheezie had stored between her and everyone else in hopes of not disappointing them like the way she thought she'd disappointed her father. Y/n sat her down in her desk chair, swiveling her chair to her as she rested her hands on the younger girls shoulders. "You are going to have a really awkward couple of weeks if you and i don't become friends so no work today. We're playing 20 questions."

That night, Y/n learned a lot about Wheezie Cameron that she never thought she'd learned. Wheezie hated the color purple, she just painted her room that color because Sarah liked that color. Wheezie loved to paint and to draw, it was her favorite activity, she just rarely showed it bevause she hadn't believed in herself. Though, when she showed Y/n the canvas' that were shoved at the back of the closet, Y/n marveled at them. But Y/n's favorite fact, and the same one that almost made her hug Wheezie on the spot, was that she was never taught to swim and Y/n made her a promise that she would teach her.

As the weeks went by, Wheezie waiting anticipatingly for Y/n's beaten down, green ford bronco to pull up on the driveway and she'd leave the house with a giant smile on her face. It’d be early in the morning, a little less than an hour until school started, just like how Wheezie liked. She'd jump in the driver seat, embracing the smell of vanilla from the scented item hanging from the rear view mirror. She’d toss her bag to the back as Y/n would ruffle her hair, just like she had every morning. "And beloved was set in... late 1856!" Wheezie answered excitedly as Y/n drove down the final street towards her school after the two had gotten breakfast together.

"Perfect! You're gonna do so good on your test, Wheeze, I promise." Y/n told her ecstatically as she pulled into a parking space. Just before Wheezie could get out, Y/n held her upper arm just to gain her attention before she got out. "Tell Rose she doesn't have to get you after school. I'll leave school early and you and I are having a girls day. No studying, just me, you and a shit ton of sweets."

Wheezie smiled, she could feel the muscles in her jaw begin to hurt from how wide she had. She tilted her head to the side out of curiosity, eyeing the look of excitement on Y/n's face. "But why?"

Y/n shrugged, adjusting in her seat and fixing her rear view mirror. "Cause, you deserve it. I'm so proud of you, Little W." She told her, looking back towards the girl and seeing her smile slightly drop. "You okay?"

Wheezie couldn't remember a time where she was genuinely told that. Yeah, sure, Ward said it a few times but it'd be in a lousy tone before he'd wave her off, saying he was busy with whatever office work he had to attend to. Sarah may have said it a few times but it was rushed before she'd run after her friends with a quick goodbye to Wheeze, leaving her alone in the sand. It was never sincere. Not in the way Y/n had said it.

She rubbed her hands against her jean clad thighs with a sharp breath before nodding. “Yeah. I've just never really been told that before. Like—Like genuinely." She said, lowly, in hopes Y/n would understand and wouldn't push it.

Y/n had known Wheezie long enough to know her tells and avoiding eye contact was one of the biggest ones. So she didn't indulge further in the conversation, brushing it under the rug but knowing she'd have to go diving back in for that little tidbit later on. Instead she wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a tight hug from over the console. "I'll tell you i'm proud of you everyday if i have to." Y/n muttered before kissing the top of her head. "Now go, if you're late to first period, your dad will kill me." And Wheezie was able to leave the car with a smile on her face, already looking forward to the day planned later on.

Y/n was overall consistent, it was one thing Wheezie enjoyed knowing that when she made promises she tried to keep them as best as she could. Sometimes things slipped her mind but Wheezie could recognize that Y/n didn't forget a thing when it came to Wheezie. Like she made sure to engrave bits and pieces of her into her mind like a data chart. But it showed she cared and that was enough for Wheezie.

Y/n cared enough that when she entered her car after school, the smell of her favorite cinnabon's filled the car that made her look in the backseat, seeing a picnic basket. There wasn't a chance, right? You could only get them on the mainland. She turned her body swiftly towards the elder girl who sat with a smirk on her face. "You didn't?"

"I did. Second I left fourth period, got on a ferry just for you to have those overly sweet treats." Y/n said, tapping her nose with a 'boop'! "And I almost got stuck on the mainland because of it so you better enjoy the hell out of them."

"I will, I promise." Wheezie said dramatically as Y/n smiled, pulling out of the parking space to head down to the beach. Wheezie had said she didn't have a bathing suit, not prepared for the outing, though Y/n already said she had ransacked her room for clothes for after. Y/n was the only person allowed in Wheezie Cameron's room without Wheezie being there and the elder girl took pride in it.

As Y/n set up their small area for the few hours, she noticed Wheezie standing just where the water and the sand met. She kicked around the water with clear disinterest causing Y/n to huff, hands on her hips, before tossing off her hoodie to get in. The splash she'd made by pushing herself into the water made Wheezie jump, a laugh falling from the two's lips. "Come on." Y/n said, standing and holding her hands out to Wheezie.

"Y/n/n, I can't swim."

"Y/n/n I can't swim, well, obvi, i know that, little W. But, you have your amazing best friend to keep you afloat. I won't let you go, i swear." Y/n said, holding up her pinky.

"Swear?"

"On my life." She reassured with a trusting smile before Wheezie walked further in. When the water had gotten to her above her waist, it'd freaked her out a bit though Y/n talked her through it, coaxing her further in slowly. Wheezie was kept above the water as Y/n held her hands as the buoyancy was used to their advantage. "See, not as bad as you thought?"

Wheezie shook her head though still nervous. "Not as bad, not my thing though."

"Why don't we try actually swimming? I won't force you if you don't want to and we can get back to shore right now but maybe just try?" She asked as Wheezie had to think about it for a moment. She almost felt guilty, remembing just a few months ago when Sarah had asked her if she could teach her but she refused. Though maybe, just maybe, it was because of Y/n being a bit more trust worthy that Wheezie said yes this time.

It took a while, Wheezie was frightened by letting go even as Y/n would say she was okay. Wheezie would tighten her grip on her shoulders before trying again and again until she eventually got it. She finally was able to keep herself above the water without flailing, recognizing that she was okay. Y/n cheered as she watched, not caring for the stares of others around them. "See, dude? You just have to start applying yourself! You did it!"

"I did it!" Wheezie said as Y/n hugged her, the two laughing before Wheezie screamed making Y/n's laughter die fast. "Something touched me!"

"Wheeze, it was seaweed." Y/n said softly before turning and letting her place her hands on her shoulders. "Yeah let's get you out of here before a jellyfish gets you."

Wheezie widened her eyes. "Jellyfish?"

As the sun had began to set and people had packed up their things and left, Y/n and Wheezie stayed. Wheezie was on her fourth doughy treat, even though Y/n told her to slow down two treats ago. Towels were wrapped around each of their shoulders as they watched the pretty colors fade in to one another, a mixture of pink, blue and orange array of colors combining to make a cotton candy sky. Wheezie watched as Y/n got up, accepting a phone call from Ward, the only phone call she hadn't silenced since they'd left the car.

In the time she'd left, Wheezie took advantage of it to recognize how appreciative she was of all that Y/n was doing for her. She came in as a tutor and, to Wheezie, was to stay as a friend. As family. Wheezie was more then ecstatic to have someone who would be there to rant and rave about the other Cameron's, someone she could trust with her secrets and the contents of her always running brain. Someone who was just there.

"Hey, your father would like us back in thirty so we should leave in ten." She said coming back and sitting beside Wheezie as she caught sight of her face, the lack of the smile that was there previously concerning her. "Tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing, really. Just... I really enjoyed today, Y/n. It really lets me know you're not just here for like... like the money or something."

Y/n let out a scoff. "Are you kidding? I enjoy nothing more than watching you freak out over the existence of jellyfish." She joked as Wheezie pushed her to the side with a laugh. Y/n recovered, letting out a content sigh as she tossed an arm over Wheezie's shoulders. "You're stuck with me now, Wheezes. Can't wait to record you falling at your next soccer game."

Wheezie couldn't help the laugh that slipped past her lips, leaning into Y/n's embrace as her head rested against her clavicle. "And I'll be looking for you in the stands, Y/n/n."

Y/n and Wheezie had both found out something about the other that night. Wheezie found that she didn't want to be like Sarah and she was glad she wasn't like Rafe. She was content with her own little circle on the dart board but maybe she could take a bit after her newest role model. And Y/n found that she was able to instill several things into the youngers mind including To Kill a Mockingbird, Inca Civilizations, and that she now had a true and present big sister to look up to.

[freddie-weaselbee]

Real//F.W.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Language, mentions of sex, I think that’s it ?

Summary: One small favor. A trade. That was all it was. Mutually beneficial! Until things between Fred and Y/N and their new relationship get a little more complicated and cause too many prying eyes. 

Prompts: Fake Dating with dialogue prompts “we could have prevented this!” and “did you know you talk in your sleep?”

Word Count: 4.7k

A/N: Day 3 of @theweasleyslut‘s 2k writing challenge

 “I’ve made my list of rules which you will abide by and under no circumstances will be broken. Number 1: this ruse does not leave the shop. I don’t want random people on the street questioning me because you couldn’t keep your huge mouth shut. Number 2: I will allow you to kiss me on the cheek and forehead as  often as you like, within reason of course, and you can give me a peck on the lips 3 times in total. I will keep track. And Number 3: Don’t take up the entire bed any more or I will be forced to push you onto the floor. Sound good?”

“Bloody hell, you are crazy aren’t you?”

“Just a little bit.”

Fred was starting to regret his previous decision of making this arrangement with you, but a jingle of his shop bell and glance at who was walking in quickly made those feelings disappear. 

“Deal,” he said, eyes not leaving the woman who had just entered. “But we start right now and I want one of those kisses.”

You looked up at your friend, confused at his sudden nerves before you followed his line of sight and understood immediately. You sighed and ruffled your hair a bit, looking for a mirror to fix your makeup. “I’m on it, give me a few minutes.”

Fred nodded, still watching his target walk slowly through the aisles of his store. As she turned a corner you ducked into the back office, waiting for a good time to reemerge. 

“Freddie!” A high pitched voice pierced through the ear, equal parts flirtatious and absolutely unbearable. Fred glanced up, pretending not to have noticed the girl before. Putting on a fake smile, he set down the product he was pretending to tinker with and placed his hands on the counter table. 

“Brooklyn, hi! How are you?” he asked, hoping his fake politeness would pass as genuine. 

“Ugh I am so good. So SO good actually,” she said, twisting a finger through her hair. “It’s been ages since I’ve seen you! I’m so glad you received my letter, I was hoping we could catch up, maybe over dinner sometime? I’ve had so many fine young men ask me out over the last few months, but none of them seemed to compare to you, my little Freddie Bear.”

He winced at the nickname, it bringing an onslaught of unwanted memories that he had desperately tried to forget. Brooklyn bit her lip and placed a hand on top of Fred’s, leaning in to accentuate her breasts and make sure Fred got a good whiff of her new perfume. 

Very calmly, Fred placed his other hand on top of hers, now sandwiched in between his strong grip. “Brooklyn,” he said, faking sympathy, “you’re a lovely girl, and I’m sure any guy would be lucky to have you, but--”

“Hey, love!” 

A voice interrupted Fred’s rejection, making a very surprised Brooklyn become absolutely enraged as she witnessed you come up and place a chaste kiss on Fred’s lips, smiling into him. Fred pulled his hands from Brooklyn’s grip and placed it instead on your hip, pulling you into him and placing another peck on your forehead. You both stared lovingly into each other’s eyes before a harsh cough stole your attention. 

“And who is this?” Brooklyn asked, arms crossed angrily. She was glaring daggers at you, not even trying to fake sweetness for Fred’s sake. 

Keeping his hand on your waist, Fred turned back to the girl who seemed as though she was about to explode. “That’s what I was trying to tell you Brooklyn,” he said, trying to keep his smile as pitiful as he could without it drawing suspicion. “This is Y/N, we’ve been seeing each other for a while now.”

You nuzzled into Fred’s chest for half a second before reaching a hand out to Brooklyn. “It’s so nice to meet you! Brooklyn, was it? I don’t think Fred’s ever mentioned you before, are you one of his childhood friends. Cousin, maybe?”

That had done it and you and Fred both knew it. He subtly fist bumped you under the counter as you watched the girl’s face become redder than Fred’s hair. 

She opened her mouth before taking a huge breath and stepping back. “No, actually,” she said through gritted teeth. “I’m his ex-girlfriend. I left him to move on to much better things. Speaking of which--” she flipped her hair and smoothed out her skirt, straightening her posture to try to keep what little dignity she had left, “--I actually have a date. With a dragon trainer no less, and a very renowned one.”

“Oh really?” Fred asked. “That’s amazing. My brother, Charlie, is a dragon trainer as well, and he’s very well known in the community. May I ask the name of the lucky young man? Maybe Charlie knows him.”

Caught very off guard, Brooklyn rolled her eyes and turned to face the door. “That’s none of your business. I better be going, before we’re late to dinner at a very nice place, somewhere the likes of you most likely couldn’t afford.”

You felt Fred stiffen next to you and you squeezed his hand gently. “Have a nice time! It was lovely to meet you Bridget.”

“It’s Brooklyn,” she seethed. 

“Oh right, silly me,” you said, shaking your head. “Bye!”

As Brooklyn sauntered out of the store, you turned to Fred and whispered seductively, just loud enough for the exiting girl to hear. “How about we have a nice night in tonight? I got something the other day that I’d love for you to see. Maybe after seeing it you’ll make me scream even louder than last night.” Fred’s face began to grow red and he had to discreetly adjust his pants, hoping you didn’t notice exactly what your words were doing to him. 

Brooklyn slammed the door and practically ran down the cobbled streets, only screaming when she thought she was far enough away to not be heard. You and Fred both waited a few seconds before cheering and hugging each other, him patting you on the back for a great performance. 

“Y/N! That was incredible! I knew I could count on you.”

“Yeah yeah,” you said, “I’m amazing, I know.” You smiled up at him completing the high five he was waiting on. “When you told me you needed help with a crazy ex I didn’t know you  meant like actually crazy. She’s insane! How did you put up with her for so long?”

Fred shrugged, jumping up onto the counter. “She was hot and I was horny. Not much else to it.”

You rolled your eyes, jumping up to join him. A few days ago you wouldn’t have been nearly comfortable enough to lounge out on the shop’s counters like you were now, but that was before you were a permanent resident of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. Before you and Fred had made the deal. 

“You want me to do what?”

“Please, Y/N, it would only be for a little while until this all dies down, I swear!”

You groaned and rubbed your temple, wondering how in the world a friendly visit to your friend’s shop would turn into something with much more commitment. 

“You’re telling me that you want me to pretend to be your girlfriend? Why on earth would you need that?”

You were pacing around the shop, trying to avoid customers as to not involve them in this very personal conversation. Fred followed you, pleading for you to help him like the great friend you were. 

“I told you,” he said, “after The Daily Prophet did that expo on the shop and made me and George out to be rich sexy businessmen, and I mean where’s the lie, all of my crazy exes have been sending me letters and trying to get back with me. I can’t stand it, there’s so many!”

“Yeah, you were never one for long-term relationships, were you?”

Fred hmphed but quickly picked up with his pleading once again. “You don’t understand, Y/N, it’s absolutely unbearable. It’s common knowledge that George and Angie have been going steady for years now, so he’s got pretty much no one after him. But me? I can’t handle it.”

He dramatically threw himself on one of the empty product tables, causing a couple kids to glance in your direction before quickly becoming distracted by one of the exploding jokes across the shop. 

“Oh, woe is me, I have too many beautiful women throwing themselves at me, whatever am I to do?” you mocked, earning a nasty glare from your friend. 

“I wouldn’t ask this of you if it wasn’t of upmost importance,” he said, straightening his tie and assuming a more business-like manner. “Those girls are crazy. Hot, yes, but crazy. And all you have to do is pretend to be dating me for a few weeks, a month at best! What do you say?”

“And what do I get out of this?” you asked. Usually, you’d never say no to helping a friend, especially Fred, but pretending to date him and having him practically use you to make other girls mad? You didn’t like the idea in the slightest. Well, maybe seeing the mad girls would be a bonus. You never cared much for most of the girls Fred went out with. 

Fred’s face turned into an upward grin as he rolled his sleeves up and leaned forward. “I was hoping you’d say that. I hear that you’re looking for a place to stay, is that right?”

You nodded hesitantly, having an idea of where he was going. 

“Well,” he said, pacing back and forth, “to keep up this charade we’ll need to convince everyone, including George and Angelina. You see, Angie’s friends with Alicia, one of the girls who’s been constantly OWLing me, and if she knew this was fake then she’d blow our cover for sure. Which means…”

You gulped. 

“You’d have the pleasure of sharing the loft with me. You’d get a room, shared with me, and a nice living space all rent-free, and all you have to do is act all lovey-dovey and occasionally snog me. That sounds like an offer you can’t refuse.”

Unfortunately, he was right. You were tight on money at the moment and really had no other options. It was a deal you had to make if you wanted to stay afloat, no matter how much annoyance and embarrassment it would cost you. 

Sighing, you let your shoulders slump, a sign of defeat. “You do know how to negotiate, don’t you?”

“Well I am a businessman.” Fred stuck out his hand, and with a slow, drawn out motion, you shook it. 

It was the 4th night of living with the Weasley twins, or maybe 5th? The nights all seemed to blend together as you’d been having more fun than you had since Hogwarts. George and Angelina didn’t seem surprised at all when you and Fred told them your made up story about how you and Fred started seeing each other. In fact, they both said they always knew it would happen. You and Fred shared a laugh about that in bed that night, before he decided to take up all of the space on the small piece of furniture, prompting you to write your third rule. 

Overall, it had been a great experience. Couples game night, movie marathons, gossip sessions with Angelina about you and Fred’s sex life (which you didn’t have to fabricate too much, you already knew too much from the incredible amounts of detail he used to provide about his dates with other girls). It was like being thrown back into a dorm room, and your old teenage self was starting to shine through again. 

You stared at yourself in Fred’s bathroom mirror, very proud of how you handled Brooklyn earlier that day. She was one of the few girlfriends of Fred’s you never got to meet, probably because they only dated for a short period of time before she left him for the first rich snob to bat an eye at her. Out of everyone you could think of that he dated, she was by far the worst, which meant the next few days would probably be more difficult. It was easy making that bitch angry with smoke coming from her ears, but you didn’t know how good you’d feel about lying to someone a lot nicer than she was. 

After brushing your teeth and donning your pajamas, your Hogwarts house colors of course, you crawled into bed and joined Fred, who was reading one of the novels you had recommended to him. “You like it so far?” you asked. 

Fred took off his reading glasses and nodded, setting a bookmark in the book before placing it on his nightstand. “Surprisingly, yes. I didn’t think it would be my thing, but so far it’s actually really good.”

“Told ya,” you said as you laid down beside him. You and Fred were comfortable enough to share a bed with few problems except for his stupid long legs. You’d been friends for years and had grown way too comfortable with each other, so squeezing together each night wasn’t too out of the ordinary. 

As you snuggled into the covers, Fred following suit, you mentally went over the schedule for the week. 

“How many girls are there again?” 

Fred paused for a moment, trying to remember what he had sent to each girl. “A few I was able to ward off via letter, the more sane ones, but there are still two more girls who insisted they pay me a visit. Addison’s coming tomorrow and Alicia the day after that.”

You nodded, although you ducted Fred could see it from his position. “Got it. Addison’s sweet, I liked her.”

Fred scoffed, wrapping an arm around your waist as he had started doing while you two slept. It was nothing more than platonic, Fred was just a touchy person. You told yourself he would do this with any semi-attractive girl laying in his bed. 

“Yeah, sweet girl all right, until you come home to your entire apartment torn apart cuz she thought you were cheating on her because apparently you ‘took an extra 12 minutes of lunch break and it seemed awfully suspicious.’”

Your body reverberated with a small giggle, remembering how Fred had to crash with you at your old place while he was trying to replace all the furniture she had literally torn up. “That’s right, she’s almost as crazy as I am.”

“Almost.”

You wouldn’t have a hard time lying to Addison, you decided. It was actually kind of fun when you did it with Brooklyn. You could get really creative with this one. 

You released a deep breath and closed your eyes, nestling back into Fred as he spooned you, claiming it was the only way he wouldn’t sprawl out and kick you in your sleep, which you knew was a lie. He’d find a way to kick you somehow. The git always did. 

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

“That was surprisingly better than expected!”

You nodded gleefully, handing Fred a scone and coffee that you had picked up from a nearby bakery. Scaring off Addison had been even more fun than Brooklyn, you and Fred really getting into character and being as lovey dovey as possible. She seemed to take it well, but you wouldn’t be surprised if she triggered the security system tonight trying to break in and destroy the shop. 

“And if I’m being honest it was actually kind of fun,” you told him, settling in behind the counter. 

You raised your muffin to your mouth to take a bite but Fred’s huge mouth snagged a taste before you could, bending down and taking a chunk out before you could have any. “That’s disgusting,” but you had no disgust lingering in your tone. 

“I agree,” he said through mouthfuls of muffin. “It was an excellent way to spend the morning. Bloody hell she would not leave!”

“At least she was nice about it.”

Fred reluctantly agreed before making another move to your muffin, one that this time you anticipated and you swatted his nose with a nearby newspaper. “You have your own, you greedy pig.”

He yanked the paper from your hand, using it as a napkin before the front page caught his eye. He quickly crumpled up the paper and tossed it into a nearby waste bin, something you wouldn’t have been suspicious of had he not done it so nervously. 

“Fred, what’s in the paper today?”

He shifted to put himself in between you and the wastebin, his tall figure looming over you. “Not important, just more junk that no one cares about.”

You didn’t believe him for a second. “Frederick Weasley you move this instant.” You tried pushing him out of the way but it was like moving an annoying ginger stone wall. Trying another approach, you darted to the left before doubling back and running right, but before you made it two steps he picked you up and threw you over his shoulder. “Fred!”

You wiggled with all your might and finally made it out of his grasp, snatching the paper and unfolding it to read the headline. 

Diagon Alley Playboy Finally Settling Down? Or Is Y/N L/N Just Another of Fred Weasley’s One Night Stands?

The color drained from your face and you slowly lowered the paper, reading the front page again and again. Attached was a blurry picture of you and Fred from the day before with you tucked into the side. The buggers at The Daily Prophet must’ve caught it through the store window. 

“I’m sorry,” Fred said softly, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. “I tried to keep things quiet, but I guess the press always finds a way in.”

You rubbed your temple slowly, trying to ignore the dread in your stomach. After seeing Harry Potter be brutally torn apart by the press for years, the last thing you wanted was rumors about you going around. 

"We could have prevented this!” you exclaimed, slamming the paper onto the desk. “This is complete bullshit. We’re not even dating! I swear I’m going to march straight to their office and--”

“Don’t bother,” Fred said, completely exasperated by the constant coverage of his family. “It does absolutely nothing, trust me. As a close relative to a professional Quidditch player, The Chosen One himself, and his two best friends who literally saved the world, we’ve learned that nothing will keep them away. Especially since they pinned me as the player of the Weasley family.”

“But you’re not!” you said, getting angrier by the second. “So your relationships don’t last long, so what? You’re not some womanizing piece of shit that the papers say you are!”

Chuckling, Fred replied. “I know that, and you know that. But the rest of the world wants drama, so if they want to think I have a new girl in my bed every night I’ll let them.” He shrugged. “You get used to it after a while.”

“Well you shouldn’t have to,” you grumbled. “You’re one of the best people I know, and the world should know it too.”

Catching you off guard, you felt a pair of arms wrap around your torso and a head lay on your shoulder. “It’s ok, love, just one more day and then you can stay out of the papers forever, I promise.”

Sighing, you turned to face him and let a small smile shine through. “Thanks. But I still think it’s absolute rubbish what they’re doing to your character.”

“Me too, but at least you know what a charming and caring gentleman I am and that’s all that matters to me.”

“Aww,” you coed, “you love me don’t you?”

“Shh, don’t let the press hear! It’ll ruin the image they worked so hard to create.”

You hit your head against Fred’s chest. “Only one more day of this. One more to go.”

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

“Do you know you talk in your sleep?”

“What?” You were so busy trying to find something to wear that you had barely heard what Fred said. 

“Last night, when you fell asleep. You said something funny.” He was sitting on the bed, adjusting his work tie and pulling on his socks and shoes. He looked...confused. Like he was trying to solve a complicated problem and he just couldn’t git the pieces together. 

“Oh?” you said, growing nervous. Had you dreamt last night? You were racking your brain, hoping you hadn’t said something embarrassing. 

You definitely had a dream, and Fred was there. You were at the shop...and Alicia came in! And…

“You were saying ‘Alicia, no, Fred’s mine not yours, I love Fred,” and umm, other stuff like that.” His face was heating up by the second, as was yours. 

“Really?” you said through awkward laughs. “Must’ve been preparing for today, huh?”

Fred said nothing, instead choosing to focus on retying his shoes. 

“Well,” you said, finally picking out your outfit, “I’m going to change, I’ll meet you down there later, ok?”

He nodded, still confused, and you rushed to use his bathroom before things could get more awkward. 

You decided to take a nice, long shower to cool down, hoping that you could somehow wash away the embarrassment. So maybe you had a slight crush on Fred. Who could blame you? You’d been spending the last week cuddled up with him and spending so much time at the shop, not to mention acting like a couple in front of everyone. Who wouldn’t develop feelings?

But for some weird reason you had a feeling that this wasn’t a recent crush, rather something that’s been lurking right beneath the surface for a while. You groaned, hitting your head against the shower wall. This was not the time for this. You had a job to do, and Alicia would be here in 30 minutes so you had to hurry up. 

Scampering down the steps 15 minutes later after using a drying spell and getting dressed, you stopped in your tracks when you saw what was happening across the shop. Alicia was here early. 

From the looks of it, she had already made herself comfortable, leaning in to talk to Fred, who wasn’t doing anything to discourage the behavior. Instead, he was leaning in as well, laughing at a joke she just made. 

Fury burned inside you as you watched the scene unfold. You knew from the beginning that Alicia would be the hardest ex to deal with. Not only had she been Fred’s longest and most intimate relationship to date, but she was also a really nice person, meaning you had no reason to hate her. But at this moment you did. 

Alicia leaned closer, her nose almost touching Fred. What should you do? Did he want your help getting rid of her? Was he still harboring feelings and actually looking to reconnect? You saw him slowly lean in toward her, which you took as a sign to continue with your plan. 

You were almost running when you reached Fred, who turned and seemed happy to see you. “Just in time,” he said the Alicia, “Alicia, you remember--”

You cut him off with a kiss, the third kiss you’d promised him. Except this one wasn’t one of the pecks you described on your terms and conditions. You pulled Fred down into one of if not the most passionate kiss you’d ever had, wrapping your arms around his neck and drawing him closer to you. 

Almost immediately he pulled off of you, looking more bewildered than you had ever seen him. “I…”

“Well that was quite the spectacle.”

You looked over to where Alicia was standing, smirking at the two of you. Contrary to what you had expected, she actually seemed rather calm and actually amused at what she had just seen. 

“S-sorry,” you said. Fred tried to say something but he was too dumbstruck to even get a word out. He just stood there, eyes wide and mouth twitching. 

“Is this a bad time?” she asked. “I’m supposed to be meeting my fiancé for breakfast later so I can just come back another time if that works for you.”

“Your...fiancé?”

“Yeah!” Alicia beamed as she showed you her left hand, her ring finger adorned with the most beautiful engagement ring you’d ever seen. “Actually, the reason I’m here is because I just asked Fred if he wanted to be in the wedding as a groomsman. Or bridesmaid. Whatever works for him. Thankfully the big oaf said yes before you laid that on him, or else I think I’d be waiting a lot longer for an answer.”

Fred was still as frozen as ever, making you and Alicia chuckle. “Hey, it’s been forever since we’ve caught up, how about you and Fred go on a double date with me and Lee sometime?”

It took you a second to understand why Lee would be there, until it dawned on you. “You’re marrying Lee Jordan?!”

She couldn’t hold back her laughter at this, loving to see your reaction. “That I am! You’re obviously invited, I’m sending invitations out soon. I’ll hope to see you there, and don’t be afraid to reach out, alright?”

“Y-yeah, will do,” you said. Alicia looked up at Fred and then to you and winked, before waving goodbye and leaving the shop. 

You refused to make eye contact with Fred, too embarrassed to even begin to talk to him. Maybe you’d just take 5 and take a walk down the street? That would help distract your brain from whatever just happened. 

“Real?”

You turned around to the source of the voice, a now more interactive Fred. “What?”

“Real,” he repeated. He shook his head a few times, blinking rapidly. “Sorry, I just mean, that kiss was umm, it was real.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. The fact that you had kissed Fred, and an actual kiss at that, was finally hitting you. “Yeah, it was real, I guess.”

He took a step closer, his face assuming the puzzled look from the bedroom earlier. “Was...was what you said real too? From the dream, I mean?”

Now it was you who was frozen, feet stuck to the ground with no way out. What should you say? Confess your feelings and hope for the best? Or deny everything and try to work your way around this mess? You didn’t have time to think nor ration. Just act. 

“Yeah. It was real.”

Fred nodded, pursing his lips and shifting his weight from foot to foot. “Cool.” He hesitated. “Would it be super crazy out of the blue if I asked you to maybe go out with me sometime. For real?”

A smile rose to your face, hoping that this wasn’t a joke. Slowly, almost shyly, you nodded. “Yeah, it would be a little crazy. But I’d say yes.”

Fred smiled too, a big toothy grin that only made you smile wider, before pulling you into a side hug. “Good, because you’re a little crazy too, so we’ll match on our date.”

“You’re a big dork,” you said, returning the hug. “What will the paper say when they see you with the same girl? They’ll probably explode!”

“I hope so,” he replied as he gave you a loving squeeze. “What I’m worried about is how we’re supposed to explain to George and Angelina that we’ve been faking this whole time and it’s only now getting real.”

“Eh, that’s a problem for another time. Right now, we’ve got some more pressing matters.” You gestured to the front window where a reporter was holding a huge camera, trying to snap a good picture of the two of you. 

“I’ll handle it, grab me the dungbombs.”

“Yes, sir!”

You ran to assist Fred, head rushing with thoughts of first dates and future ones down the road. Of attending Lee and Alicia’s wedding together and getting completely wasted with each other. Of sleeping together each night, holding each other in an embrace that was now true and deep and caring. In a relationship that was now real. 

Tag List:

@famdomhideout @amourtentiaa

[novelconcepts]

Prompt: Jamie is the one who finds Dani locked in the closet. Dani is still having a panic attack and Jamie helps her.

Time slips away when you're out of your head, Dani has found. It moves so much faster--so much slower--so much less correctly with blood pumping at a dizzying rate. With black spots marring her vision. With her breath caught, tangled in a fisherman's net of sharp inhale, hold, hold, bare exhale, she can't think. There are tears dewed on her eyelashes, and fingers folded into shaking fists, and she is little more than the repetition of her own weight meeting the door--again--again--again--

It's open, she realizes, and wonders how long it has been open. Not long, certainly. Not with how forcefully she's been hurling herself against unyielding lumber. Certainly, she would have--

Well. Tumbled out as she is now, a horrible muddling of limbs and purple sweater and mascara scraped down her cheeks. The breath she has been clawing for still won't quite come, not even with the door hanging open and the soft light of Flora's bedroom pouring inside.

Not even with strong hands catching her by the shoulders, a voice speaking low and smooth into the silence left in the wake of her screams.

"Hey. Hey, now. Hey, you're out, you're all good."

She blinks once. Twice. The world as painted by hysteria is neatly bisected, right down the middle. On one side: the mirror, his solemn face, the horror of being locked in with him. On the other: butterflies on the walls, a dollhouse in the corner, cool air rushing against her flushed skin.

Dark curls. Bright eyes. The gardener from lunch, the one with whom Dani still hasn't held a real conversation.

Jamie.

"What," she tries to say--what are you doing here, you left hours ago, you shouldn't be here--and can't get any further. What, echoing between them, strangled on the end of a sharp inhalation that refuses to fill her up. Her throat is closing. There is a boulder lodged against her windpipe, another sinking down against her chest. She is, she realizes, folding her hands together so hard, her knuckles stand stark against the front of Jamie's overalls.

"Kids," Jamie says--a one-word question. The panic swells higher as Dani realizes she does not know. They were there, turning the key. They were shouting through the door. And then...then...

"Don't know," she wheezes. "Don't know--I--"

Jamie grits her teeth. Her eyes dart back toward the door, her body still tilted entirely toward Dani. "You all right if I...?"

Dani nods, a rapid bird-flutter of a gesture that sends her sour stomach heaving. She gropes backward for Flora's bed, sinking onto the edge of the mattress. Jamie watches her with an expression she can't quite read, her jaw lifted, her shoulders set.

"Back in a sec. Promise."

Dani shuts her eyes, scrounging for breath, listening to the steady thud of boots striding out of the room. Her fingers sink into Flora’s bedspread, her elbows pressed to her knees as she struggles to keep from folding completely in half. Who will that help? She's out. She’s out, and there’s plenty of air out here, and she’s--

Hands, gently brushing her arms. She peels her eyes open, hating how swollen they already feel, hating that faint whistle at the back of her throat that says her lungs still aren’t quite doing their job. Jamie is kneeling on the floor, looking at her with absolutely none of the tight unease from lunch. Her expression is surprisingly warm, though creased with concern, and her hands do not fall away from Dani’s arms. 

“Found ‘em,” she says. “They’re fine. What happened?”

Dani draws as deep a breath as she can manage, unseeing eyes rooted to the front of Jamie’s shirt beneath her scuffed overalls. The neat rectangle of navy cotton swells out--in--out with Jamie’s entirely-stable breaths. She finds herself blankly trying to mimic the beats, relieved and embarrassed in equal measure when Jamie seems to realize what’s happening and begins breathing with intent. In. Hold. Out. Hold. Again, again, until Dani’s heart finally catches up with her brain. 

“Better?” Jamie asks. Dani, uncertain how much time has slipped away with this woman holding her by the elbows, setting a pace for slow, even breaths, nods. “Right. Good. Now: what happened?”

A flash of movement tugs at her attention, pulling her eyes to a point over Jamie’s shoulder. Miles and Flora, leaning against the doorframe, their faces ashen. She swallows hard. 

“We’re sorry,” Flora says quickly.

“It got stuck,” Miles adds. There is a furtive look to his eyes that says even he does not expect her to believe this. Dani swallows again.

“Bed.”

There are more words in her--big, angry, panic-throttled words--but she wouldn’t let them fly even if Jamie weren’t here. That isn’t how you deal with kids. That isn't how you deal with traumatized orphans. 

Not even when they pull stunts like this. 

“Honest,” Miles starts to say. She closes her eyes, scrubs her hands over her face. Her palms are hot, her newly-caught breath stuffy. She wants to stay in the cupped enclosure of her own hands forever. 

Flora makes a tiny hiccuping noise, the precursor to tears. Jamie’s hand flexes around her arm. Dani bites her tongue until the throb of pain cuts through the memory of his glasses, his glasses in the mirror, I was in there with him alone.

“We,” she says in as level a voice she can muster, “will talk about this in the morning.”

Jamie is looking at her, she realizes. Jamie, leaning back into a crouch, is watching her with the wary concern of one waiting to see if a rabbit will escape a snare unscathed. Dani gives her a very small nod--I’m okay--and she pushes to her feet, claps her hands, turns on her heel.

“Right. You heard her. Bed.”

Dani removes herself from Flora’s bed, still shaking even as she tucks the tiny girl under the covers. Jamie stands back, almost to the door, watching the proceedings as if half-believing she’ll have to take over at some point. 

No, thinks Dani with hot embarrassment. This is her job, not Jamie’s. Jamie even being here is more than her job description. Even still floundering at the end of a panic attack, Dani can do this much.

“I really am sorry,” Miles mumbles, blankets pulled up to his chin. Dani searches his face. Not a single beat of a lie there now; he looks perfectly miserable, his cheeks bright with shame. She exhales, hoping her voice will hold. 

It does. Barely. “Get some sleep. We’ll discuss it tomorrow.”

He rolls over, face mashed against the pillow. Dani drags in an unsteady breath, holds it as she closes in on the door, the light switch, the hallway. 

“All right?” Jamie asks again when the doors have been closed and the children tucked away. Dani presses her face to her hands, groaning. 

“Yeah. Yes. I’m sorry, that was--”

“Sorry?” Jamie repeats blankly. “What’ve you got to be sorry about? Didn’t lock yourself in there, I’d wager.”

No. No, she hadn’t. And tomorrow, she’ll have to pull herself together better than this--locate the mask of the Polished Au Pair, who is good with even the most difficult of children, who doesn’t scream herself hoarse and bruise up her shoulder trying to get away from memories held behind glass--

“What are you doing here, anyway?” Her voice is brittle, the words edged. Jamie only looks at her steadily, hands in her pockets, not taking so much as a step back. 

“Left my flat key. Ring broke this afternoon--must’ve skidded under something out in the greenhouse. I was going to check when I heard the, ah. The...” She trails off, looking almost embarrassed for the first time--embarrassed not for herself, but for Dani, who had indeed been scraping her throat raw with shrieks. Dani grits her teeth. 

“I have a--”

She’s not sure what she’s going to say next; a condition? A phobia? The absolutely horrific poor fortune to be haunted by her ex-fiance in every reflective surface? Jamie holds up a hand. 

“Doesn’t matter,” she says. “Not unless you want to talk it over. Do you?”

Dani shakes her head. Truth be told, she’s wrung out--her head is pounding, her hands numb from being squeezed into such uncompromising fists. Jamie looks unsurprised. 

“Then it’s your own,” she says easily. “You share it on your time. Christ, Poppins, think it’s the first time kids have reduced a grown woman to tears?”

There’s plenty to unpack here--Jamie’s kindness, in letting it slide; Jamie’s careless phrasing, as though she expects minor doses of aggression from perfectly well-mannered children every day; Jamie’s expression, even, holding firm on Dani as though she’s the only real thing in this house. Dani finds herself landing on something else entirely.

“Is that...mud?”

There are, she sees now, footprints. Wrapping down the hall, leading down the staircase, all the way to the front door. She frowns, following them at a slow clip, her legs still trembling. Jamie follows. 

“Wasn’t me,” she says, as if Dani holds accusations on her tongue. “Hannah says this happens sometimes. Maybe one of the beasts taking the piss?”

“Maybe.” The prints are larger than either child could make on their own, Dani thinks with a plummeting sense of alarm. Large, and staggered, and odd. Still. Kids. Jamie’s probably right--it’s likely just a prank. A silly trick to test the new au pair’s mettle. 

She turns her head, surprised to find Jamie still looking at her. “I’m sorry. Did you need help finding your key?”

Jamie shrugs. “Nah. I know the way. And if it’s not where I figure, I’ll just post up on the couch for the night. Hannah won’t mind.”

Dani smiles faintly. “There are so many bedrooms, I’m sure you could--”

Jamie flaps a hand. “Don’t like sleeping in beds that don’t belong to me. Couch’ll suit me fine. Anyway, maybe I won’t need it. Night might have a little good luck left in it yet.”

“You’re sure you don’t want to...” God, she’s so tired. What is this impulse to play hostess, even with her bones twisted to exhaustion and a thunderstorm ringing in her head? “I mean, you could...stay. I could get you a drink?”

Jamie smiles. It’s the first true smile Dani’s seen on her lips since flicking water on the kids at lunch, and it doesn’t just light up her face--it revolutionizes her entire body. All at once, Dani remembers how she’d felt watching this woman stroll into the kitchen this afternoon: like a song she’s been humming under her breath for a lifetime. 

Heat twists up her neck. She clears her throat. 

“I think,” Jamie says gently, “I should let you get to bed. Tomorrow, maybe. If you’re up to it.”

She leaves the rest of the offer unspoken--tomorrow, maybe you can tell me what really happened--and Dani understands, somehow, that if it never comes up again, Jamie won’t mind. Jamie doesn’t seem the sort of woman who is rocked by much.

“Thank you,” she says, walking to the front door, leaning awkwardly against the enormous slab of wood as Jamie steps outside. “For--anyway. Thank you.”

“Anytime,” Jamie says, and though this woman had frowned at her this afternoon, wariness cutting grooves through her dirt-smudged face, she is nothing but warm now. Warm and more than a little bit beautiful, with moonlight scudding off her hair. 

It’s been too long a night for that, Dani warns herself. Too long a life for that, probably. Certainly nothing she’s prepared to deal with right now. 

“One more thing,” she adds, unable to help herself, even as Jamie crunches over gravel with hands swinging loosely at her sides. Jamie doesn’t quite stop, only turns at the waist with an inquisitive eyebrow raised. Dani smiles weakly.

“Poppins?”

“Yeah,” Jamie says, and Dani is so tired. So tired, she must be imagining the light tinge of pink around the woman’s cheeks. “You know. Julie Andrews.”

“Sure,” says Dani, who can’t think of a single actress she less embodies in this moment. “Right. Of course.”

She can’t help grinning a little, falling into bed a few minutes later--still in sweat-damp clothes, her boots barely kicked to the floor--with the scorching awareness that the surly gardener has just given her a nickname. Possibly because she doesn’t actually know Dani’s real name, sure--but a nickname, all the same. A nickname, and a warm smile, and the impression of long fingers wrapped gently around her arm. 

Tomorrow, she’ll handle the kids. Put her foot down. They need to know, right off the bat, that she won’t stand for this sort of thing. She needs to know it, to prove to herself she can still do this, just as she’d insisted to Henry Wingrave. Tomorrow, she’ll talk to them the right way--steady, calm, no accusation in her tone--and give them a suitable punishment. 

Tomorrow. 

Tonight, Jamie’s shining eyes, slouched shoulders, accent curled around Poppins almost let her forget the horror of being locked in with a ghost.

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

Hi! I love everything that you write and heh I am a fan! 😄 tbh this is my first time requesting something on Tumblr! If you don't mind and if I am not being a bother...can you write about how the guys would react If MC suddenly starts making meme references? I don't know how I got the idea but I am REALLY curious. And love you! :D

Hiya! Tyvm for the kind words, and apologies that this took a while! I hope you have the chance to enjoy it regardless ❤️❤️❤️ Love you too, sweet pea! I promise to get to the next request you’ve sent ASAP~

Aight but this would be hilarious because the range of the reactions is just ungodly. I will be putting this under a cut after Napoleon so I don’t clog up everyone’s dash, but all the suitors are included below otherwise! 

Comte is the one that recognizes a few, but didn’t really stay in modern times long enough to be as well-versed as a Gen Z kid might. Regardless he finds the wittiness and absolute chaotic fuckery to be delightful, and will 100% support the harmless nonsense. It never fails to get a laugh out of him

Mozart that first day be like: “Buzz off MC I hate you” MC, because she likes swinging bats at wasps’ nests: “Well that’s not very cash money of you” Mozart: ?????????? Comte, giggling in the bg like the secret fae he is This one’s just because I’m petty, but after the events of Comte rt I just imagine them encountering Vlad again and MC’s just “I lived bitch.” while Comte is flipping him off behind her lkjahgkjhdsg

Comte @ Leo when he finds the latter under his desk: Had it not been for the laws of this land, I would have slaughtered you.  MC: wheezing from the hallway as she’s about to give him his letters

MC: So how was your day, honey? Comte: Good, good--briefly had to go beastmode upon the punk that pilfered my lint roller MC, biting her lip to keep from laughing: So does Leo still have his kneecaps? Comte: for now.

Comte, @ literally anyone upsetting the MC: I won’t hesitate, bitch

Comte: Be careful with my emotional baggage, it’s designer

MC: What if I was evil and ran towards you at very fast speeds Comte: My arms are strong, I would catch and hug you

Leo and Dazai are the ones that don’t have a single reference point but are filled with so much dumbass chaos energy that they just. Understand immediately???? Nobody knows how or why, but they just catch on so fast--adapt the language in a matter of weeks. Never underestimate the power of combined boredom, depression, and humor

I swear to god I just see MC taking them their Blanc/Rouge and being like “here you go sir, one enslaved moisture” and they just go fucking hog wild from day one. MC starts impersonating Theo when he leaves the room around Dazai, like fake deep voice “you all only hate me because you do not like me and I am mean to you. grow up.” Or like the MC meets a baby on her travels with Leo around town and she holds them and says v seriously and sagely “So you are Baby? I have heard tales of your exploits.” and Leo about loses his shit right there. They both think MC is the funniest person alive--they’ve never been more eager to throw a ring at someone in their entire life.

Also a bonus for my beloved Dazai:  MC, facing even the slightest inconvenience (like dropping her fork) in the most dramtic voice possible: Life is not daijoubu. Dazai: wheezing

MC, after watching Theo turn down a woman at the bar in the meanest way possible: bro quit letting the darkness consume you u r scaring the hoes Dazai, literally rolling around on the ground, half-drunk and dying:

MC, walking alongside Dazai and stopping to stare at her reflection in the River Seine. Dazai’s expecting some sad or twisted shit, since people often feel comfortable talking about those things around him, but instead she just: “Oh, it’s you. The source of all my problems.” And he about falls into the river from shock HAHAHA

At this point don’t be surprised if his next book is about an absolute madlad woman similar to MC

Napoleon finds it to be a delightful quirk more than anything? He doesn’t really understand it, but he finds it funny when they change their voice for effect or speak in exaggerated tones. If it’s just comprehensible enough for an outsider to understand--or Sebas gives him context--chances are it’ll send him into a laughing fit

For this one I just imagine MC singing that Ratatouille meme song obnoxiously bad while cooking, and Napoleon and Comte are just so wildly amused by it bc it makes zero sense and it’s only vaguely French at this point

MC @ Napoleon while they’re cooking brunch: Can I offer you a nice egg in these trying times?

MC, conflicted because she’s tired and wanted to sleep in but also got to see Napo’s cute sleeping face for a few hours: For my next stunt, I’ll wake up at 5AM on the day I can sleep in. Sebas: Early to bed and early to rise makes a person healthy, wealthy, and wise MC: early to bed and early to rise makes me a massive bitch Napoleon: laughing in agreement

Isaac is the type to be bewildered and concerned at first (especially when he hears the more nihilistic ones hoOOOoooOO BOY) but eventually begins to understand it’s some bizarre attempt at humor (that hurts Zack baby). While some part of him laments that it reminds him of Dazai and he’s secretly jealous of how she and Dazai bond over it, he will sometimes join in the chaos when the mood strikes him and he’s feeling mischievous

Isaac: How are you feeling? MC: Oh, I’m not Isaac: seconds from dialing 911 Isaac: Are you okay? MC: Oh yeah dw I just suffer from that syndrome where your neutral expression makes you look like you’re an angry serial killer Isaac: say sike rn

Isaac, tutoring MC and correcting something:  MC, muttering while redoing it: The risk I took was calculated, but man am I bad at math. Isaac: unable to help a laugh

One time MC was avoiding Isaac for fear of hurting his feelings and he just confronts her like: Isaac: back by unpopular demand, me! What’s wrong, MC pls MC was so hecking proud of him

Isaac, telling MC about a recent discovery he learned at uni from another professor: bones typically heal stronger after they’ve been broken--so long as they’re set properly, of course MC, looking him dead in the eyes: So what you’re saying is that I should break every bone in my body until I become superhumanly powerful? Isaac: please do not, no

Mozart and Jeanne are just. Totally lost. Why are you talking like that??? Why are you making “crab hands”???? They don’t understand. Maybe never will. They reach a point where they just kind of laugh and shake their heads, endeared by the oddity after they’re used to it and have determined it isn’t a threat/insult. 

MC: It’s a cold and it’s a brooooken, Waluigi. Waaaaluigiiiii...waaaahluigi..... Mozart: surprised, then starts snickering and playing along on the piano

Arthur, asking MC very personal questions out loud because he is an idiot sometimes: Soooo MC, are you a top or a bottom? MC: I’m a threat. (If he asks a second time, the response will be “Wouldn’t you like to know, weatherboy.”) Jeanne, fighting a smile:

MC, about to punch an asshole: Your free trial of being alive has ended Jeanne, seconds from laughing for the first time in 100 years:

Also, because I genuinely can’t help myself. You know that knight meme like “Parry this you fucking casual.” I cannot stress enough that it is literally the personification of Jeanne’s entire character. I’m not even joking.

Arthur and Shakespeare are utterly fascinated by the rapid evolution of wordplay and the sheer hilarity. They will ask all about these so-called “memes” and ask for examples of them if MC can show them (either somehow accessing her phone or drawing them). MC draws Arthur the knife cat meme and he about a s c e n d s at the hilarity of it all, points and yells THEO IS HOLDING THE KNIFE. He is correct. They will be delighted and follow along eagerly, and--god forbid--will make their own based on late 19th century struggles.

Is this where Shakespeare got the idea for “What, you egg? stabs him” and “You are a saucy boy.”? I’m too scared to ask. Don’t even get me started on “The Fool jingled miserably across the floor.” That one is just too on the nose...

I can’t even imagine what would happen to Shakespeare if MC like translated vines and memes into Ye Olde English around him. Imagine she’s at one of those noble balls and hears rumors of these two guys living together and they’re so obviously gay and he says “And those gents w’re roommates.” And in the most false surprised tone ever MC just replies “oh mine own god, those gents w’re roommates.” Imagine having a wife that’s just as hilarious as you are and hits you with all the force of a bag of wet mice every time you speak in retaliation, he’s going into palpitations.

Every time Arthur does smth stupid MC just: “I Pretend I Do Not See It.”

Vincent is tickled pink by MC’s penchant for finding joy and/or amusement in nearly everything they do, and he smiles gently when he sees them muttering and laughing to themselves. He wants to be able to join them in what they love, but he has a harder time following along and understanding the darker humor sometimes. Mostly gets confused??? Please give him the easier ones to mimic and laugh when he tries--or just include him in your jokes MC. He’s babie your honor...

But he also. Will not. Stand any kind of self-deprecation or borderline verbal self-harm. He’s usually very easygoing and calm, but for whatever reason that stuff makes him go deathly quiet and upset.

MC, after something goes horribly wrong, hugging Vincent: Oh Vince, we really in it now Vincent: giggling a little despite his worries, relaxing

MC: Theo stop simping for Vincent that’s my job

MC, when Theo leaves the room and she gets Vincent all to herself: The evil is defeated.

MC: And this is where I would put my will to live...if I h a d one! Vincent: ;-; MC: oh shit, oh fuck, I was only kidding Vincent wait (MC was subsequently lectured and loved on for many hours)

Theo is conflicted because on the one hand, he loves to see you smiling and having fun. On the other, you’re clowning as hard as Dazai and Arthur and he can only handle so many monkeys in his circus. Most of the time he will roll his eyes and be the straight man of this comedy, but you might find him cracking a smile--or accidentally letting a chuckle slip past his lips now and again.

MC, after meeting Theo: I’m a nice person, but I’m about to start throwing rocks at people.

Theo, those first days: Oh? You’re approaching me? Instead of running away, you’re coming right to me? MC: I can’t beat the shit out of you without getting closer.

Theo: Every time I ask MC to explain “vibe check” to me she hits me with some kind of improvised weapon

MC, after the “incident” (you know the one): This year, I lost my dear lover Theo Theo, in the distance: QUIT TELLING EVERYONE I’M DEAD! MC: ;-; sometimes I can still hear his voice...

Sebastian is last because oh boy. OH BOYYYYY I LOVE HIM. Okay so the way I see this happening with Sebastian is just. So wild. Because at first he’s t r y i n g so hard to be the proper butler man. He does not meme. But then he starts to drift closer to what Niles from The Nanny was, where he’ll quip and joke in private or when the situation is just beyond the amount of absurdity he can handle without making a snarky comment. Everyone in the house can’t fathom how Sebas and MC got so close so fast, but there are points where they’re just “Are they even speaking English anymore???” It’s 11 times funnier than normal because Sebas almost never smiles or laughs when memeing, the deadpan quality of his playing along sends MC every time

Has ABSOLUTELY said “HEY. PANINI HEAD. ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME???” jokingly when MC made a mistake in the kitchen. They laugh about it for y e a r s

MC: I can’t date someone who keeps a lamb as a pet, that’s so weird Sebas, brushing Lotte in front of MC: MC: MC: Okay, I will make an exception because she looks very polite

MC and Sebas, fully aware of the fame some of the men will reach in modern times: We will watch your career with great interest.  (I s2g that’s like half of Sebas’ rt right there I’m crying)

Sebas rt with Lotte be like that 500 dollar Mareep meme: “sometimes a family can be just a boy, his gf, and their 500 dollar two foot tall Lotte”

[yuyupowers]

aristocrat!yunho

aristocrat!yunho x fem!reader

genre: fluff, angst

trigger warning(s): description of an anxiety attack, brief description of death, memory loss. let me know if there’s anything else!

author’s note: i swear this wasn’t supposed to be this long sdkjflds

none of the pictures are mine!

for reference, i’m using british peerage (hierarchy). there are five ranks: baron, viscount, earl (count), marquess, and duke - the highest being duke, and the lowest, baron.

eldest son of a duke

okay, so

among nobility, the jeon family are well respect but considered to be a bit,,,eccentric

they adhere to all the social expectations expected amongst nobles, but their attitude towards non-nobility is what sets them apart

though most noble families are polite when interacting with non-nobility, they generally try to keep their distance; avoid their company, if possible

not the jeong’s 

it wasn’t unusual to see duchess jeong knitting in her tea room with maids, merchant’s wives, or whoever else wanted to come

to see gunho running around with his friends, a pack of street urchins, low, and middle class children

to see yunho in the market helping one of the many older couples haul their cart into place

his family had managed to find the delicate balance of being “normal” enough not to suffer social ostracization, yet “odd” enough for people to dismiss their “peculiar actions” as “typical jeong behaviour”

now, onto the loml yunho

perfect gentleman pt. 2

extremely charming and a great conversationalist

no matter how awkward or shy the other party may be, yunho has this way to draw them out of their shell

(just ask mingi)

excels physical and hands-on activities (i.e. hunting, horseback riding, swordsmanship, etc,,,)

average in terms of book smarts

so while wasn’t about to lead the next technological revolution, he wasn’t “stupid” either

rather, i’d argue that yunho’s brilliant in non-traditional ways

his quick wit and ability to think on his feet is part of his charm

but his greatest strengths are his observational skills and emotional intelligence

able to discern people’s emotional state easily and quickly

he’s someone who’s kind, bright, and genuinely cares about other people’s problems (sometimes a little too much)

a natural leader - people tend to flock towards him

between him and mingi (who despite not acting like it, is extremely book smart), they’ve got all bases covered

(+ yunho’s willingness in using unconventional methods to gather information)

that’s actually how he met you

or rather, “found” seems more appropriate

see, he has an excellent rapport with the street children

being six foot one and offering shoulder rides does wonders

and because he wants to stay updated on what problems the people around him are dealing with, he gets the children to “report” to him if they find or hear anything unusual

(the children are more than eager to play spy, especially when there’s candy involved)

one day while taking a stroll, one of his kids ran up to him totally out of breath

he wheezed something about a “mysterious lady” before grabbing yunho’s hand and dragging leading him to an alley quite far away

to say he was surprised was an understatement

most of the time, his kids brought amusing but mostly useless information to him

(even if he is more than content listening about the cute squirrel they fed earlier that day)

usually they didn’t lead him to an unconscious woman lying in the middle of an empty alley

(yes, that’s you)

hurrying to your side, he drops down and checks to see if you’re alive

other than being unconscious and getting some dirt in your hair and on your clothes, you seemed to be okay

gingerly scooping you into his arms, he tells the little boy to fetch the doctor and bring him to the jeong manor

fast forward a couple hours and you’re roused from your unconscious state by the sharp smell of ammonia mixed with lavender

blearily, you rub your eyes and blink once, twice, before your vision finally clears

then panic

you don’t recognize where you are or the two faces that hover by your bedside

sensing your anxiety, yunho smiles warmly speaks in a soothing tone

“hey, hey, it’s okay, you’re in a safe place. my name’s yunho and this is dr. adley. i found you unconscious in an alley.”

and though you’re very confused and still mildly unnerved, you can tell this yunho guy is genuine

“,,,okay.”

so you settle into the (extremely comfortable) four poster bed and let the doctor examine you

except now it’s time for panic pt.2, but ten times worse because why the hell can’t you remember anything?!

you can’t even remember your own g*d damned name !!

to make things worse, there doesn’t seem to be a reason why you can’t remember anything

no bumps or injuries anywhere on your body

and chances of a robbery gone wrong, a kidnapping, or a failed assassination attempt were very unlikely since you were dressed in commoner’s clothes

disquieted by your alarm and the doctor’s confusion, yunho slips out of the room and returns after several minutes

the doctor, offering apologies to both you and yunho, says he has no idea what’s wrong or what could’ve happened to you

all he can suggest is to rest and hope that your memories eventually come back to you

your burry your face into your hands, a whirlwind of frustration, confusion, and fear brewing in you

apparently nobody, including yourself: 

knows who you are, 

where you came from, 

why you were unconscious, 

and why you lost your memories

to top it off, you have no money

.

…

just when you were about to idk,,,scream and/or punch something-

you feel two large hands engulfing yours, lowering them from your face

taking a seat on the edge of bed, yunho offers a faint smile as he idly traces lines from your wrists to your fingertips

a surprisingly soothing gesture

“,,,i know you’re overwhelmed right now, but please don’t feel as if you have to do this on your own. i talked to my mum and dad; you can stay here until either someone finds you or your memories return. in the meantime, we’ll help you out as much as we can, yeah?”

and though you’re in no position to argue, your first instinct is to decline because though you’re amnesiatic, you still have common sense

what kind of family, wealthy or not (actually, especially wealthy), lets a complete stranger stay in their house?

do these people have no sense of danger?

but yunho is as stubborn as he is kind, and this was how you ended up staying with the jeong’s

(you insist on working to earn your stay, much to yunho’s dismay. in his head, unless it helped in recovering their memories or, unfortunately, was necessary for survival, who would make an amnesiac work?)

the first couple of days were awkward

duke and duchess jeong had briefed everyone in the manor about your situation, but when making casual conversation, lapses in memory and uncomfortable silences were inevitable

“oh, i adore this purple! hey, what’s your favourite colour?”

“,,,i uh,,, don’t know.”

“,,,i’m so sorry-”

but awkward has never a problem for yunho, and you quickly grew fond of the gentle giant

“since we don’t know your name, can i call you little sun? since i found you on a sunny day and you’re little-”

“yunho, not everyone can be six feet tall”

“six one, actually”

“,,,”

true to his word, he does his best to help you recover your memories

roped mingi into helping

when you finished your tasks for the day, he’d bring you to all sorts of places, trying all sorts of things

on a hunting trip with yungi, you discovered that: a) you’re proficient in horseback riding, b) you have astounding aim, and c) you’re surprisingly agile

yunho, who’s always been penchant towards athleticism, was delighted to have someone to compete with

mingi just grumbled. sure he was clumsy, but how did someone with no memory beat him?

while helping the gardener, you found out that you have a rather extensive knowledge of flora

yunho jokingly (kinda) suggested that maybe you were a huntress

mingi bombarded you with questions and quizzes about plants

find out what kind of plant you are by decorating your dream room

hoping that you’d run into someone or somewhere familiar, yunho would take on walks all over the city

during your walks, you learned that you preferred nighttime (while he preferred the day), that you found solace in being alone (while he preferred company), that you liked sweet things (while he preferred chips)

a month,

two,

six months passed liked this

you made progress, but you couldn’t stop the bitterness from bubbling in your chest; negativity spreading through your veins like toxin

sure, you consider your favourite colour to be a precious memory in its own right

but who cares about what your favourite colour is when you can’t remember your own name?

you were vexed by the fact that, at this point, you know more about yunho than yourself

even if learning about him made your heart flutter

just a little

and the nightmares

the nightmares

they drove you crazy

you never remembered what you’d dream of, but every night, without fail, you’d wake with tear stained cheeks and sweat soaked clothes

tonight was particularly bad

normally, when you woke, you’d force yourself to take several deep, calming breaths until your breathing evened, grab a glass of water, then crawl back to bed

today, you couldn’t breathe

no matter what or how hard you tried, your heart wouldn’t stop pummeling against your ribcage;

your blood wouldn’t stop rushing between your ears, creating a cacophony no one else could hear;

wave after wave of nausea would slam into your gut

your vision’s blurring

oh god

you’re gonna pass out

you’re gonna pass out and forget the memories you worked so hard to remember and all the memories you made and you’re gonna forget yunho and mingi and-

suddenly, much like the first day, two large hands engulf your own, idly tracing lines from your wrist to your fingertips

“little sun, it’s me, yunho. your yunho. focus on my hands and voice, yeah? i’m right here.”

he continues to murmur sweet nothings until finally, finally, your heart settles back in your chest, your breathing levels, and your vision clears enough to see yunho

your yunho

and in this state, one look at his kind eyes is enough for the tears you’ve been holding in all this time to spill over

because though you cry in your sleep, you never let yourself cry when you’re awake

too focused on chores, too focused on remembering, too focused on trying to get some semblance of control over this uncontrollable situation

without a word, he pulls you into his chest and runs his fingers through your sweaty hair, offering the sound of his heartbeat to anchor you back to this four poster bed when you were ready

but g*d, does it break his heart to see you cry

he expected to hear you wail, to take the brunt of your fists as you pound his chest

but he hears nothing

instead, he feels your tears soak his shirt, feels how you tremble in his arms

and that is so much worse.

it takes long minute for you to stop crying, and another for you to feel composed enough to detach yourself from yunho’s (now soggy) chest

you’re sure you look awful

puffy eyes, blotchy cheeks, and a runny nose

(and you feel embarrassed that yunho witnessed your breakdown)

but he thumbs away the remaining tears from your cheeks and murmurs that he’ll be right back, returning with tissues and a glass of water 

and a new shirt

he hands you the glass of water, tosses your used tissues in the garbage, and climbs underneath your (technically his) covers, patting the space beside him

when you too find refuge in the warm blankets, he pulls you back into his chest

his arm acts as your pillow as he kisses the crown of your head, murmuring into your hair

“wanna talk about it?”

it takes you several moments, but you eventually tell him about the negativity seeping into every inch of skin

the nightmares you never recall keeping you up at night

the irrational feeling of stupidity because you can’t remember who you are

yunho silently, attentively listens to you as you spill your heart

and if he hadn’t pulled you so close, you might’ve seen the weariness in his usually carefree features

the conflict and hollowness brewing in his normally inviting eyes

but by the time you finished talking and pulled back, the expression was gone and the familiar smile you adored so much was back in place

“tomorrow, let’s go to the place where i found you.”

a faint smile bloomed on your lips because though this wasn’t the first time you visited, it was a reminder that you weren’t alone

that no matter how the chances dwindled, yunho would remind you that it was never zero

it was hope that got you through the night

the two of you have never done anything that could be considered anything but platonic

much to mingi’s irritation

but just for tonight, yunho decides to be a little greedy

he kisses your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, your eyelids, you wrists, your palms, your knuckles, your fingers

anywhere he can reach,

except for your lips

you’re emotionally exhausted and vulnerable; he’d feel like a dick if he forced a decision - especially an emotionally fraught one - onto you right now

he threads your fingers together, murmuring soft promises: you’ll remember who you were, you’ll be okay, you’ll find your way again

and you finally let the exhaustion, the steady rhythm of his heart, the rise and fall of his chest, and the warmth and comfort that is yunho lull you to sleep

the next morning is a cold one

gusts of wind bite into your skin as you curl in on yourself, trying to preserve any remaining shred of body heat

noticing this, yunho tucks you under his arm with a sheepish smile and flushed cheeks that were definitely red because of the cold and not because he was flustered

cute

a peaceful silence falls between you two as he leads you to the alley

and since it was early, the only sounds that accompanied you was the quiet patter of your footsteps and the chirps of birds reluctant to travel south

feeling like it simultaneously took too long and not long enough, the two of you arrive

an odd smile settles on yunho’s lips

,,,was that bitterness?

“,,,here we are.”

interrupting your train of thought, he takes your hand and leads you to where he found you

g*d

you could feel it

somewhere in the back of your mind, something almost tangible was shoving its way forward

you’re so close, just a little more and-

suddenly, a chill that had nothing to do with the weather ran down your spine

before you could understand what you were feeling, yunho shoved you behind him and parried the dagger aimed for his chest

a gruff looking man only a little shorter than he stood before him

his clothes tattered and dirty, skin littered with scars, hair and beard scraggly and matted, he looked like one of the many men that inhabited the slums

but those men were sagging skin and bones, never knowing where or if they would get a next meal

this man was muscular

and judging by the familiarity of his actions, this clearly wasn’t his first assassination 

the two men, unable to disengage, snarl as they continue to press into each other

much to your surprise, when you were about to jump into the fray, the assassin screams at you

“YOU ‘UCKING WHORE, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! KILL HIM!”

big mistake

because not only is yunho clever and athletic, he’s one lucky bastard

in the brief second the assassin’s attention was diverted, yunho ducks

his weight and moment carries him forward, and he stumbles,,,right onto yunho’s blade.

yanking both his blood soaked short sword and body away from the assassin, the man crumples to the ground

but until life is drained from his eyes, he bores holes into your head, message clear: kill him

a deafening silence weighs down upon you when the man stops breathing

even the wind stills

yunho stands there, a far away look in his eyes as he grips the short sword

blood is splattered all over his hands, across his cheek

it trickles from the hilt, down the blade, and eventually drips onto the ground beneath him

snow begins to drift from the gray skies, landing on his hair, his cheeks, his eyelashes, his coat

as if trying to comfort him

as if trying to wash the blood away

and you?

you couldn’t move.

not when the floodgates had opened and a torrent of memories threatened to pull you under

you knew who you were

you were yn, born to a peasant mother who died at birth and a father that abandoned you soon after

a ghost of a person, and unknown assassin raised by an unnamed noble who resented the jeong’s for their wealth, their nobility, and their favour with the royal family despite their peculiar attitude

nothing but a tool 

a tool told that if successful, he’d grant you wealth and freedom

but that if you failed, he’d kill you himself

…

the assassin wasn’t after yunho, he was after you

a warning to finish the job, or else

…

you couldn’t stop your hands from shaking

and yunho, 

your gentle giant, yunho

envelops your hands in his, idly tracing lines from your wrist to your fingertips

there’s no comfort this time.

not when he drew lines of blood across the back of your hand, not when you searched and couldn’t read anything expect for this sad smile on his ordinarily open features

“,,,do you remember?”

“,,,”

“,,,”

“,,,”

“,,,”

“,,,you knew.”

he did.

his suspicions appeared early on, spurred by your unusually good marksmanship, agility, and uncanny knowledge of plants

specifically poisonous ones

he turned to this “unconventional” ways of gathering information

starting off with his kids,

then some trusted tclose contacts

but when nothing - and he meant a questionable amount of nothing - turned up, he left the legal sphere and delved in the underground; the black markets

yunho has people who owe him favours - people who’s debts he’s paid off, who’s fights he’s fought on their behalf 

it took a few months, but eventually he got the information he wanted

marquess yoo who openly showed his distaste for the jeong family “released his pet into the wild”

but the jeong’s were not stupid, and they were loved

when yunho’s father confided to some close acquaintances about the predicament they were facing, they took matters into their own hands

they never meant to hurt you

only to capture you and talk you out of killing, bribing you with money, protection - threats, if necessary - if you testified against marquess yoo

but somewhere along the way, things got messy 

it ended with an unconscious girl lying in the middle of an abandoned alley; three grown men running away because oh dear lord, she’s dead; and a child leading yunho straight to you

letting go of your hands, yunho goes to kneel beside the man he just killed

closing his eyes, he mutters a prayer for the (not so) poor soul who unknowingly got himself tangled in this mess, and grabs the dagger 

it feels like someone doused you in ice as yunho walks back to you

horror morphs on your face as he gently - why was he always so gentle? - wraps your fingers around the hilt and places the blade against his neck

the smile that you love so much but currently hate rests on his lips as he cups the side of your face with his free hand

his thumb idly brushes against your cheek, eyes twinkling with adoration as he drinks in every last detail of your face as if,,,

as if,,,

he’s ready to die

“no one knows we left this morning and no one knows we’re here; not even mingi. if you kill me, you’ll have enough time to collect some of your reward and run away.”

by now your hands were shaking so much that if yunho didn’t have his hand wrapped around yours, you would’ve dropped the blade

but as the snow floats down and lands in your hair, in his eye lashes, in the fog of your shared breaths, in the space between you,

here to witness a great tragedy

you both knew,

that one of you has to die.

[happyandticklish]

Behave

Notes: For the anon request. The request was slightly vague, so I tried to improvise a little. I hope you like the result! ^^

Summary: Shizuo has a habit of picking Izaya up whenever he tries to stir up trouble, to mischievous results. 

Causing general mayhem and disaster was one of Izaya’s favorite activities, and Ikebukuro was one of his favorite cities to do so in. The chance of bumping into some kind of natural disaster was almost inevitable, and on the rare occasion of peace among the streets, Izaya was always willing to stir something up himself. Sometimes this something could be the beginnings of a gang war. And sometimes it was merely messing with small children.

Life was full of surprises that way.

“And just what do we have here?” Izaya inquired, folding his hands in front of himself as he stopped before a group of children gathered on the park asphalt. There were three of them, a young girl with a box of chalk clutched protectively to her chest, and two boys, who had previously been drawing out an outline for hop-scotch, who both looked to be about a year or so older than her.

The first boy glanced up at his comment, shooting him a suspicious glance. “Playing a game,” he answered stiffly, clearly waiting for the man to say anything in the negative about it.

“So I can see,” Izaya agreed, surveying the scene before them. “Hop-scotch… I remember playing that game as a kid. How do the rules work again?”

“Well—” the girl started hesitantly, but before she could say anything more, Izaya had begun hopping from one foot to the next over the squares provided. He wobbled a bit as he went, all with an assured smile. For his finale, he jumped forward with both feet, landing on the discarded pieces of chalk and cracking two of them easily.

“Hey!” the girl cried, eyes widening. “I just got those!”

“Oh!” Izaya clucked his tongue, placing his hands on his hips as he surveyed his work. “Well that will never do. I guess we’ll just have to break the other ones to match. Would you terribly mind handing over that box?”

The girl hid the box quickly behind her back, which wasn’t the smartest of defensive moves but it was all she had. The second boy appeared to be taking in the scene cautiously, clearly not wanting to get himself involved. The first one however, took an angry step forward, glaring up at him.

“Leave her alone!” he protested, portraying a level of bravado he didn’t feel. “Or I’ll—I’ll—”

“You’ll… what?” Izaya inquired, leaning down to face him with a devastating smirk. “No, continue, I’m truly curious—what exactly could you do?”

The boy stammered over his words, trying to think of any kind of witty reply but coming up blank.

“Leave the kid alone.”

Izaya sprang up, whirling around at the sound of the telltale voice. “Shizu-chan~! So nice of you to drop by. Decided to enjoy the spring day as well?”

One hand shoved carelessly in his pocket, Shizuo Heiwajima stood bathed in the gentle lamplight of the sun, surveying the scene casually. In place of his usual angry scowl, however, there was a bored, almost dismissive look on his face, as though dealing with Izaya’s shit simply wasn’t worth his time. Instead of answering, he stalked over to the other with quick, forceful steps, until they were inches away.

Izaya staggered back a little, taken by surprise by the direct approach. He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could Shizuo had leaned down, grabbing Izaya around the waist, and hauled him over his shoulder. Izaya squawked in an undignified manner, gripping onto the back of Shizuo’s shirt for support.

Shizuo kicked the broken pieces of chalk back over to the children with a grunted, “here”, before turning around and heading off in the opposite direction, Izaya in tow.

By this point a burning crimson had begun to overtake Izaya’s features, and he could see the faces of the children from his vantage point, all of whom seemed delighted to see him in the embarrassing position. “You know, you can’t simply pick me up whenever you feel like it,” he huffed, reaching back in an attempt to swat at the back of the other’s head.

“Oh?” Shizuo easily avoided him as Izaya struggled to maneuver his arm in the right position. “And what exactly are you going to do about it?” he asked, parroting Izaya’s earlier words.

Izaya narrowed his eyes. He kicked one of his legs out, aiming to get a direct hit at his stomach. Unfortunately, legs do not generally go in that direction and he primarily ending up flailing around a lot and sometimes hitting the other’s arm in the process. This was not troublesome all on its own (Shizuo had definitely endured far worse from the flea), but it did prompt an idea. The next time one of Izaya’s legs came too near his face, he grabbed it with his other hand, gripping his fingers into the denim protecting the backs of his thighs.

Izaya let out a strangled noise, managing to somehow disguise it as a cough at the last moment. Shizuo’s hand remained on his thigh, his fingers gently tapping where they curled around his leg. Izaya’s breath caught in his throat as he realized suddenly how very, very fucked he was.

“S-Shizuo,” he said, trying as desperately as he could to keep his growing panic out of his voice. “I really think you should let me down now.”

“What’s wrong?” Shizuo asked calmly, his fingers tapping out a rhythm of doom against his jeans, each and every one causing Izaya to twitch against his will. “You sound suddenly concerned. Is something bothering you?”

“Shizuo, not again,” Izaya gritted out. Memories were flooding back to him of a week ago, causing butterflies to excite uninvited in his stomach. “If you think you can simply pick me up like a common stray and t—” he broke off, pressing his lips together into a firm, irritated line.

“And what?” Shizuo questioned, tossing a teasing glance back at him. Amusement danced in his eyes, and never had Izaya wished to punch him more than in that moment. “What exactly is it that I can’t do?”

“I believe you know perfectly well what I mean,” Izaya replied with a sickeningly pleasant smile. “After all, seeing as it has for some reason become one of your favorite activities to do to me, I dearly hope you know what it is.”

“And I would hope you know what it is, considering you appear to love it so much,” Shizuo shot back, pinching the back of his thigh suddenly.

“I w—shit!” Izaya lurched forward, his body’s instinctual response to save himself from the sensation. His arms flailed wildly, searching for a handhold, and eventually clinging onto the back of Shizuo’s shirt. Shizuo stiffened, trying to ignore the strangely pleasant shudder that ran down his spine as Izaya’s fingers brushed his back. He shook it off, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand.

Shizuo outlined a path of small pinches down the back of Izaya’s thigh, making the man jerk and squirm with each one, though he managed to stifle any noises this time. Once he had gotten Izaya properly ramped up, he removed his hand entirely, giving the other a momentary reprieve.

Izaya exhaled slowly, glad for the break. After a moment of nothing happening however, he threw a confused glance back at the other. “Are you done t—ahAHAHAHA, ohohoho shIHIHIHIHihihit!”

Izaya burst into wild, uncontrolled laughter as Shizuo suddenly dug his fingers into his thigh, pressing into just the right pressure points to make the other go positively mad. His hand came back instinctively to try to rip Shizuo’s hand away from the spot, but his current position prevented him from doing so. The sudden, intensive tickling caused a hysteria that weakened Izaya instantly, his eyes crinkling up into a series of wild giggles and shrieks, a euphoria he didn’t often allow himself to feel lighting up in his chest. His legs kicked out with reckless abandon, but nothing he attempted saved himself from the relentless attack.

Just as suddenly as he had initiated it, Shizuo stopped, allowing his hand to merely rest on the other’s leg. Izaya wheezed helplessly, burying his face in the back of the other’s shirt. His skin tingled with phantoms of the earlier attack.

“I’m sorry, you were going to say something?” Shizuo asked innocently.

Izaya weakly lifted his head, shooting back a venomous glare. “You utter ahahAHAHASSHOLE, nohohoho, nOHOHOT AHAHAhagain!”

Izaya fell back into hysterics as Shizuo once again started up with his thighs. It was a testament to Shizuo’s skill that he was able to keep a firm hold on Izaya whilst torturing him, all the while continuing to stroll through the streets as though nothing was happening. By this point, people had started to stare, dumbfounded by the sight of a grown man thrashing and howling with laughter, hoisted like a misbehaving child over another man’s shoulder.

“S-Shihihihizuo!” Izaya squawked, pounding his fist against the other’s back. “StahAHAHAP IHIHIHIT!”

“Sure,” Shizuo agreed, smirking as his fingers found a particularly unfortunate spot that had Izaya screeching. “Just say, ‘Shizuo is superior to me in every way’. You can do that, can’t you?”

“F-FuhuhUHUHUCK YOHOhohou!”

Shizuo clucked his tongue in disappointment. “I’m afraid that’s not it. Want to try again?”

Izaya tried. He really did. He used every ounce of self-control he had to try to either bear the sensations wracking his body or to somehow escape from Shizuo’s hold. But the embarrassing position combined with the results of a death spot being targeted in such an effective manner eventually did him in and he cracked.

“OhOHOHOKAY! OHOHohohohokay!” Izaya cried, frantic giggles interspersing his words. “S-Shihihizuo ihihis—ahAHAHAha, nohohoho wahahait—Shihihizuo—gahAHAHA! Gihihive mehehehe ahahahaha seHEHEHEHehecond!”

Shizuo reluctantly complied, momentarily stilling his hand. Izaya panted heavily, attempting to get any amount of air back. Once he’d finally regained enough breath to speak any semblance of coherent words, he raised his head and grinned back at the other. “Shizuo is… a fool for thinking I’d ever say anything inherently false as that. Sorry, try again next time.”

Shizuo’s confident smirk quickly transformed into an irritated scowl. “You little—” Instantly there were hands at his thighs again, only this time he attacked the other one which had thus far received no attention from their little game. Izaya let out an honest-to-god squeak, unprepared for the switch. He pulled at Shizuo’s shirt, needing a handhold as he faced the unbearable sensations. As he did so, however, he noticed the way his tugging had ridden Shizuo’s shirt up slightly, revealing the bare skin of his lower back and hips.

Izaya was struck with a sudden idea.

Shizuo flinched as he felt two hands grab onto his hips, fingers curling into the skin in a manner that was unmistakably ticklish. His hand faltered on Izaya’s thigh as his lips tugged into a reluctant grin, a couple growled giggles escaping him.

“I-Izaya,” he threatened, still holding onto Izaya but doing little else besides that. “Whatever you’re thinking, don’t.”

“Why?” Izaya teased, scratching his hips once more and feeling the man shudder beneath him. “Feeling a bit nervous now that the situations have reversed?”

“I’ll drop you,” Shizuo threatened.

“I’m not worried,” Izaya dismissed, clearly having fun with the sudden power dynamic. “Haven’t you heard? Cats always land on their feet.”

“Mind if I test that theory?”

“Now, now, no need to be grumpy.” Izaya squeezed his hips again and Shizuo choked on a stifled giggle. “I get it. You can dish it out, but you can’t take it. It’s fine, really. I’ll just be using it to my advantage now, is all.”

“L-Like hell you are!” Shizuo stammered, attempting to pull Izaya off his shoulders. Izaya yelped, grabbing onto Shizuo’s hips for support, causing the man to stumble forwards, releasing him in one go. With a startled cry, Izaya tumbled off his shoulders, and Shizuo jerked around, just managing to catch him by the arm as he hit the ground. It wasn’t a complete save (and Izaya would be complaining about being sore for days after), but it did prevent him from slamming into the concrete.

Izaya stared up at Shizuo, panting a little, his gaze focused on the place where Shizuo still gripped his arm. With a cough, Shizuo quickly released him, straightening up. “Are you…” he started slowly, rubbing the back of his neck uncertainly. “Okay?”

Izaya blinked, at a momentary loss for what to say, before his usual smirk returned to him. “Of course I’m okay, dear Shizu-chan. More than okay, at that.” He clambered to his feet, dusting off his jeans and trying not to focus on how his tailbone ached from slamming into the ground. “Because now I know your weakness, locked away in my brain for all eternity. But don’t worry—I’ll only use it against you as often as you’ve used mine against me. Now if you don’t mind, I really have some important business to be attending to, and must take my leave. Farewell, my dear brute.”

He saluted the other mockingly, whirling on his heel and quickly walking away. Shizuo’s frown of confusion as he watched him go quickly transformed into one of irritation. “You bastard, get back here!” he exclaimed, taking chase after him. “Who said you get to have the last word, huh?”

Izaya laughed merrily as he sprinted ahead, the two quickly disappearing into the chaos of the city. No matter what happened, nothing ever really changed between the two. One info broker, one bodyguard, locked together in continuous battle.

And as Izaya rounded the next corner sharply, his smirk turning into something almost giddy from the chase, he found he didn’t really mind if it meant he could hold the beast’s attention for even a moment longer.

[hansoulo]

cold when you hold me (warm when I cry)

pairing: din djarin/reader (gender neutral, no y/n, could be platonic)

warnings: cursing? mild angst, crying, hurt/comfort oh ye boiiii

word count: like a cute 1.5k

a/n: may i offer you some catharsis in these trying times?

Today... today just… sucked. Like, really really sucked. What was that law? Anything that could go wrong, will go wrong?

Maker, it wasn’t even anything that bad, y’know? It was just.. Frustrating. The kid was frustrating. Mando was frustrating. Everything was just…

Fuck.

You’d been in a fit the entire day, hating how shrill your voice sounded when you became short with the both of them. You didn’t mean to. You didn’t want to. It’s just that everything managed to become incredibly too much for seemingly no reason  at all, enough so that just the sound of the Crest’s controls was enough to bring you near tears.

One of the subjects of your ire spoke up.

“Are you- alright?” his words were stilted, halting and unsure but edged with soft concern. You let out a laugh, the sound watery.

“Yeah, yeah I’m-” you swiped your knuckles across your eyelids, tracing the sunburst dust that follows the pressing on your vision before the shine of his armour came back into view. “I’m good,” you finished with a small sniff and a bobbing nod, trying to convince yourself more than him.

A few seconds passed in silence. You wiped at your eyes again. Tasted one roll of dripping salt. And turned away.

The Mandalorian’s hands curled around the ship controls. He was still, ever-stoic save for one slight turn of his head. “Do you want to… talk about it?” he asked when you only breathed, the sound rattling a wheezed hollowness in your chest and against the cockpit walls.

You smiled - or tried to - and shook your head gently, feeling the pool of crackling tears before you willed them back down. “No, it’s okay,” you answered after a moment, quiet. “Thanks, though.”

The hem of your shirtsleeve caught in your nails when you fiddled with it, drawing out a loose thread and watching as it piled around the skin of your wrist. It was white. The thread, that is. Which was sort of strange because the fabric was black, so it really didn’t lend itself to blending into the rest of the- oh, shit you were crying again.

“I’m gonna go, uhm-” you swallowed, ducking your head with a cough as you stood up from the copilot seat. “Check on the kid. Maybe nap.” You offered up a vague  wave up towards your head in half-hearted explanation. “Headache.”

The Mandalorian nodded. “The Mandalorian” felt… impersonal, though. Mando, you called him sometimes. Nerf-herding hunk of fucking metal, other times. None suited him very well, you thought before you turned to go, the goosebumps rising on your arms from the chill of the air vent above your head. You knew better than to ask for his name, though. Maybe one day, you could call him something else.

The ship’s filtered air washed over you in waves, trickling down your neck and through your sleeves like recycled water, soothing some of the raw sting still settling in the base of your stomach. One breath. Two breaths. In. Out.

No tears. No fuss.

No one to witness when you do.

You shook yourself out of your shallow stupor when you heard a voice, deep and rasped in  modulated timbre. “Sorry,” you said, your hand curled around the edges of the entrance. “What was that?”

“I said ‘try to sleep,” he repeated.

Oh.

That was… not what you thought he’d say.

In all fairness you didn’t really expect him to say anything, but that was… considerate. Sweet, even. Maybe.

“Thanks,” you whispered, fighting down the thick notch in your throat. “I- I will.”

-------

You coudn’t fucking cry in peace.

You only heard a slight shift, one barely audible step, before the glint of beskar took up your entire field of view, looming dark and sudden above your seated figure.

“What happened?”

“Fucking- oh, for Maker’s sake,” you cursed under your breathe, burying your face in your hands with a hiccup. “Don’t- don’t sneak up on me like that, okay? Almost gave me a heart attack.”

“You look close to it anyways,” he responded.

You glared at him through the spaces between your fingers, mumbling dryly. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

Groaning, you let your hands fall beside your legs until they dragged limp over the threadbare covers. “Why are you here?”

The Mandalorian took another step forward. “It’s my ship, isn’t it?”

“You know what I mean,” you rolled your eyes, drawing your knees up to your chest. The stiff rod of the bedframe dug into your heels when you shifted, scooting sideways with a pat of your hand to the space next to you. His shoulders stiffened and you managed a soft smile. “It’s your bed,” you parroted. “Isn’t it?”

He conceded, tilting his helmet as if to say I guess, and your knees jostled against metal when he sat down, apologizing. You tucked your legs underneath you. Told him it was fine.

It’s hard to tell what time of day it is. In space, everything looks the same. Cold and sterile, a vacuum of glittering crystalline set against empty, empty air. You’d been traveling in hyperspace for hours. Still had hours left to go. A long ways for a good bounty, you supposed. Wasn’t really your area of expertise.

“You can tell me,” he offered quietly, careful not to press close. Professional, huh. What was this, then? Emotional insurance? Preemptive therapy so he wouldn’t have to go find someone else to drag across the galaxy? “If you want to.”

“Tell you what?”

Maker, you were a horrible liar. As if he couldn’t see your puffy eyes and your nose rubbed raw with his stupid, fancy high-tech heat vision sensor-thingies.

The Mandalorian didn’t say anything. If you could see it, you think he’d be raising his eyebrows. “There’s nothing to tell, honestly,” you said after a moment, leaning to rest your chin on your knees and looping your arms around your calves. You stared ahead at the far wall, following the dingy metal plating. “I just… had a bad day.”

“A bad day,” the man beside you said, his arms braced on his legs as he sat.

“Yeah,” you sighed, tucking your chin and letting your eyes shut. “A bad day.”

“I know the kid-” he began, “ I know I can be… difficult. And I’m sorry-”

You shook your head, turning to look at the sharp metal of his visor. It was always so strange, hearing him disembodied. Only to face its source and find a mask.

His voice sounded human.

He wasn’t wearing gloves.

“It’s not your fault,” you assured him. His armour reflected hazy glints of gaseous blue light and you followed them with red-rimmed eyes, your gaze curious; his, unyielding. A stare-down. Stare...off? There really wasn’t any way you could know he was even paying attention. He could be sleeping right now, for all you knew.

He wasn’t, though. He was looking at you.

“It’s not your fault,” you said again, more to yourself. “It just gets too much sometimes. Y’know,” you gestured vaguely at your surroundings. “Everything. Anything. Stuff.”

The Mandalorian let out something that could possibly, maybe, in some ways, be interpreted as a laugh. “Stuff, right?”

You squinted, watching him through the sideways vision of your tilted head, and faked offense. “Are you mocking my pain?”

He let out another raspy chuckle, the sound reverberating in your ears and melting in the tips of your fingers. “No,” he said.

“Good,” you replied.

His posture loosened, more slack beside you. A little closer. “You know, you don’t have to.”

“Have to what?” you asked, your question genuine this time.

The edge of your thigh knocked against his cuisse when he spoke again. “Pretend like you’re okay.”

Well, shit.

“I don’t like it,” you admitted as you twisted your sleeves in your palms, wringing the trailing hems until they grew damp. “I don’t like-” you exhaled shakily. “-crying, in front of people.”

Hands that didn’t belong to you, tan and wide and ever-so-careful, reached up to pry the fabric from between your fingers. Then, they pushed the sleeves up, to the slope of your elbows. Then, they traced the skin of your forearms and down your wrists. And then, they stayed there. Pressing two soft thumb circles into your tremoring palms; waiting.

Your vision burned blurry as your chest tightened. “Your hands are warm,” you whispered.

The Mandalorian raised one to the curve of your cheek, over the leaking rivulet trails you hadn’t realized were falling. “Yours are cold,” he replied.

You swallowed, feeling the light callouses. Turned in. “Can you stay?” you asked. His visor revealed little, but if you let yourself slip into a half-state you could almost imagine the color of his eyes. Something dark, to match his voice. Something warm, to match his hands. “Just for a bit?”

He nodded and so you let your eyes fall closed again, your thoughts slow in that tired, aching way that prying something open makes you feel.

When you moved to rest your head on his pauldron, you felt an arm wrap around your shoulders.

[boxofbadaddiction]

Thinking about...

How Ron started working for George at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

My theory, or headcanon (however you'd like to look at it), is that Molly proposed the idea...and George absolutely hated that suggestion.

But not because it's Ron.

He hated it because never in his life would George have imagined himself doing what he does without his Twin, and the thought of 'replacing him' causes bile to rise in his throat.

It would take many days of denial, small arguments and George finally reaching his breaking point to consider the idea that: perhaps Ron wouldn't be such a bad addition to the team...

I imagine it's sometime after the War and George has finally brought himself to reopen the store. Maybe it's only been back in business a couple weeks or for a few months now, but he's struggling a little bit. Because he doesn't want to admit he needs another worker around to take some of the load off his shoulders. And a little more than that: he just doesn't want to do it with anyone other than Fred.

Meanwhile, Ron is struggling to find work or get placement in Auror training. Because let's face it: even though he is Harry Potter's right hand man and helped win a War; his grades were...unideal.

I see Ron venting to Molly one day in the kitchen, perhaps after receiving another rejection letter, and she's running a loving hand in comforting circles over his shoulders while he's slumped over a hot chocolate. She's telling him to hang in there and that these things take time, offering that perhaps he should look into a part-time role with his Father within the Ministry. Or reminding him that Percy offered him an internship in his office.

But Ron hates both those ideas.

At this point George walks through the door looking exhausted. Greets the pair casually as he shrugs off his jacket and throws it over the back of a chair. He places a quick kiss to Molly's cheek and ruffles Ronniekin's hair as he moves to make himself a hot drink to wind down after a busy day.

"Hello Dear, busy day?" Molly smiles somewhat sadly, taking in her son's tired figure.

"Extremely." George huffs as he sits down across from the pair with slumped posture. "What's wrong with you, Ronnie?"

"Another rejection letter." Ron replies sadly as he annoyedly flicks the cause of his dejection to the centre of the table and drops himself against the backrest of his chair, taking up a similar slouched position to his older brother.

That's when Molly's struck by the idea. As she looks between her two boys and wishes she had a solution for them...the answer so simply presents itself. But she doesn't say anything.

Not yet.

She doesn't want to get Ron's hopes up if that's something he'd be interested in, and she knows he would be given how much he loves the Twins Shop. But more than that, she doesn't want to just spring the thought onto George because she knows how touchy the topic is going to be.

And it was.

A few days after this thought comes to her she gets her opportunity to run the idea past George. The two of them are alone doing a mindless task together, like washing the dishes. George scrubbing as Molly dries.

They've worked in comfortable silence thus far, but that's because Molly's too busy running a million different ways she can bring this up to George, through her mind, and which is the least likely way to upset him. George meanwhile is just enjoying the time with his Mother and the familiarity the task at hand brings. A strange sort of nostalgia washing over him, one which he'd never consider to be as therapeutic as it was.

But there's something nagging at the back of George's mind. And it has everything to do with the fact his Mother has been dutifully drying the same glass for 5 minutes now.

"Mum..." his voice snaps Molly out of her daze, drawing a surprised hum of acknowledgement from her throat. "I'd say that glass is dry by now." George joked with a crooked smile. "Oh, yes, I suppose you're right."

Molly's slightly flustered and places the cup down. But her expression remains rather vacant, mildly discontent. This finally prompts George to ask what's on her mind. Molly decides to simply go for it. There's no easy way to bring this up around George and she's really just stalling to forgo an uncomfortable conversation.

"George, I've been thinking..."

"Not good."

"I'm serious right now."

"So am I. You thinking never means anything good for me and-...for me."

"It's about Ron and finding him a suitable job, until he's accepted into training..."

And that's how it begins. She cushions the conversation considerably before asking the question she's been stewing over for days. She talks about how disheartened Ron has been in his misfortune, how desperately he wants to be apart of the work force. She talks about how tired George has been the last few months trying to run the shop by himself and how she just wants to be able to help the two of them get on their feet.

When she finally does ask the question: "What if, Ron came and worked for you?" It doesn't go down well.

She watches how swiftly his body language changes. From his casual 'I'm listening' demeanour to instantly putting his walls up. She watches as the words cause him to freeze. Every muscle in his body turning ridged and defensive.

His response is near immediate: 'No'. And he returns to the task at hand, however, he's no longer so comfortable within the grown silence.

He holds zero care in the way he handles the dishes as he cleans them, though it's notable how hard he's trying to not take any of his frustration out on them.

The conversation doesn't stay civil for very long.

Molly falls immediately into a sort of plead as she questions why George won't even take the time to consider the idea. She points out every reason why it is the best possible solution to both his and Rons current situations.

George shuts down not really answering any of Mollys questions as she rambles. The words seemingly falling from her mouth faster than she can process them; working herself into a right fluster.

George warns her quite a few times to drop the subject, but she continues, and he finally snaps. Tossing whatever dish is in his hands down into the water and yelling for her to stop talking. To drop the conversation because it's not going to happen before storming off elsewhere to cool down.

They spent a couple days without speaking after that.

More weeks pass and Weasleys Wizard Wheezes only gets busier. George feels like he's drowning in paperwork and just can't seem to get ahead. He goes to work an hour early and comes home hours late. He's tired and just about had enough. He can't even begin to imagine how he and Fred ever found so much joy in the work as they had.

"It's not work if you love to do it." Is what Fred always used to say when people would ask how he could possibly be so happy while on the clock.

George couldn't do this much longer. Not without his brother.

After one particularly difficult day George arrives home after all other occupants of the Burrow had gone to bed...or so he thought.

Walking in through the back door to all the houses lights out, save for a single lamp in the sitting room which Arthur and Molly leave on for him, he collapses into one of the Armchairs, too tired to attempt the walk up stairs right now.

His palms dig into the sockets of his eyes, harshly rubbing at each lid, to try rid the sandy feeling in them brought on from lack of sleep, then his fingers draw down on his cheeks; pulling at the skin in frustration.

He doesn't know it but Ron is, at this point, looking at him from the staircase landing. He'd meant to come down for a cup of water but instead found himself faced with his Brother.

Or rather, the shell of his brother.

Ron's never seen him look so...hollow and lifeless. It's like a horrible flashback to those months following the loss of Fred and it makes his stomach turn.

Ron comes over and sits on the sofa opposite George, a look of sympathy and concern on his face. George tries to joke and make light of his current situation but the humour and light doesn't come close to reaching his eyes and the smile he paints on looks painful.

After a little while of trying to get George to open up, and receiving quite the snap of attitude Ron concedes. He very well would have left for bed if the hanging silence hadn't made George feel enough guilt to attempt a change in conversation.

Soon though, after the initial awkwardness subsided, they get lost in talk.

It had started as a question of how Ron's job search were going but somehow ended with the pair laughing over silly childhood memories. Something George hadn't been able to do in a while.

Something changed between both brothers that night. They'd bonded in a new way and were much closer than they likely ever had been before. Ron had even managed to spark some product inspiration in George, and over the next couple days as he tries to perfect the concept they spend more time together.

From then on, George can feel a shift in the way he views Ron and in the possibility of him working at WWW. The idea of hiring him doesn't bring that bile feeling to his throat as it does with any other name or applicant who is suggested to him.

So, when George believes he's finally perfected the new product and takes it home to show Ron, that's the day he asks Oh, Dear Ronniekin's to work for him at the shop.

Which he of course agrees to.

[sugako]

Can i request doing the clothes swap trend with Kenma Bokuto Ushijima Oikawa and Kageyama(idk your character limit. It wasnt in your rules) i hope this isnt too much for you. Have a good day

i lowkey did not know what this trend even was 😳 but this is cute (also i don’t really have a chara limit currently within reason)

sum: clothing swap trend w/ gn!reader x kenma, bokuto, ushi, oikawa, and kags

cw: clothing switches (no sizing indicators really), mostly fluff, kinda slightly suggestive content (for bokuto), timeskip spoilers!

kenma

does not get it or why you would want to

you already wear his hoodies/sweatpants all the time so that’s the same thing he thinks

but he does it anyone because it’s going to make you happy

you get into it teasing him abt habits he has while he streams/in meetings

he doesn’t act super different but still imitates you a little

secretly loves having your soft sweater on because it smells like you

“you’re wearing my clothes right now.” he says bluntly, motioning to the old, too loose hoodie and fresh pair of boxers of his you have on.

“you know what i mean. i know you watch tiktoks even you pretend you don’t. you gotta wear my clothes.” you say, already reaching behind you to grab the set you pulled out for him.

for just another moment longer he hesitates before he finally snatches them from your hand. you close your eyes, waiting for him to change, and when he’s done he taps your shoulder.

“c’mon, my followers will like it.” he sighs.

bokuto

he suggests it as soon as he sees one video of people doing it

drags you away from whatever you’re doing to ask

already loves seeing you in his jerseys and t-shirts

idc if you have big tiddies so does he and his shirts would fit anyone

he would love to squeeze into your shorts or skirts with his massive ass and thighs

you just hope he doesn’t pull any seams, but even if he does it’s just funny and cute

“hey, baby...?” he draws out the word, pulling you away from your laptop screen. you shut it, already sensing that he wants to do something.

“what’s up?” you ask, pulling him into your arms, running your fingers through his hair.

“wanna do the couples outfit swap thing with me?”

“of course!” as you agree, he’s dragging you to your shared bedroom when he tosses his clean MSBY uniform at you, helping to drag the clothes you’re wearing off.

he shimmies on your clothes and sets his phone up to record. you hold back a wheeze as he awkwardly steps in front of the screen as the music starts up, gently mocking some of your habits. nearly in tears, you step out when it’s your turn holding onto a volleyball and trying to imitate his chest receive, but laughing so hard it barely bounces across the room to him.

“hey!” he comes stumbling back into view of the camera, laughing as he picks up the ball.

“you do that a lot, you’re very good at it with these.” you say, cupping his chest. on reflex, he tightens his muscles under your hold, firming up the soft flesh. the music fades off and the phone finishes recording.

“they’re good for a lot more than that,” he purrs, leaning in as though to kiss you, but bouncing the ball between your chests at the last second.

ushijima

another one that just doesn’t get it

doesn’t have tiktok so he doesn’t know what you mean at first

agrees immediately because you seem excited

he’s worried about fitting in your clothes though no matter your size

doesn’t know what to do so he just stands there (askjlsfj i’m sorry i just think he would)

“so, this is all.” he asks, looking down at himself before his eyes refocus on you.

“yep.” you answer plainly, buttoning the last button of his crisp, white dress shirt he pulled for you. while he didn’t totally get it, the way your eyes lit up when he was in your clothes and you in his made his heart warm and he couldn’t say no.

“i don’t do anything or...?”

“you can act like me if you want. promise i won’t be offended.” you joke, clicking the phone on and nodding at him. he’s a little stiff, but he does his best.

when it’s your turn, you hop up to him with your arms stretched over your head, spiking a mini foam volleyball that was sitting on your bedside table with a straight expression.

with his phone you snatched minutes ago you pretend to scroll through it with an oddly intense look that he gets when he concentrates. to anyone else, he might look angry, but you know he’s just focusing.

“do i really look that mad all the time?” his eyebrow just barely quirks up, and you can hear the tiniest hint of amusement in his voice.

“aww, you’re just a big, kind of sometimes serious guy with the prettiest eyes i’ve ever seen.” you cup his face in your hands, bringing it close so you can peck the tip of his nose. “but, uhh yes, a little bit.”

oikawa

another one that suggests it to you

has you in a plain shirt and athletic shorts in seconds

peruses all of your clothes to find the ones he thinks will suit him best

finally finds something that’s his favorite shade of blue and gets it on

he gets very much into it, overexaggerating your mannerisms, etc.

“i do not do that!” you call, holding back a crooked smile. finally, you push him out from in front of the phone.

before he can stop you, you start making flirty faces at the camera, pretending to take selfies with your tongue stuck out and eyebrows furrowed.

“excuse me?” he chuckles, coming back into frame. “i don’t do that.”

“oh, should i be poutykawa then?” you counter, crossing your arms and sticking out your bottom lip with a sullen look on your face. “i miss my bestie in japan and shoyo so much, but at least i’ll see them when i crush them at the olympics.” you taunt, throwing your head back.

“hey,” he whines, “did iwa tell you to call me those awful names? you know i just want you to call me tooru.”

you giggle as he lets out a long, dramatic sigh.

“i’m y/n and i’m so in love with tooru oikawa, san juan setter and his pretty hair and hands even though i pretend i’m all tough.” he throws back at you, grabbing your wrists and playfully started to wrestle with you. at onces, you’re glad he proposed this silly idea even as you’re about to be strong-armed onto the ground.

kageyama

another clueless king like ushi

but also does it because you seem excited

...and he likes seeing you in his clothes

if you give him something complicated (like that laces up, skirt, dress, etc.) he needs your help

looks very good in whatever clothes you put him in

even if you’re the same height/barely shorter than him, he’s gonna make fun of you for being short

you gotta hold back your laughing tears even before you start up

you let him go first, and he stiffly mocks some things you do, in step with the music. when you have to go, you’re already on the edge of losing it, you think you’re joke is too good.

first, you take a deep breath, and use your hands to part you hair, just like you’ve seen hinata do during his kageyama impressions. you barely get out the words “...power curry...” before you feel him roll his eyes and you let out a shuddering laugh.

“is that supposed to be me?” he asks as you pretend to quickly stuff you mouth with nothing.

“what?” you chuckle, “there’s nothing wrong with being a big eater, you’re a big guy.” you say, voice raising up a couple octaves.

“uh-huh, and the power curry commercial?” he questions.

“was a, uh, very important thing that you did and now some people know you from it.” you coughed out, acutely aware of the sinister smirk growing on his features.

suddenly, he drops down to both his knees. “hmm, is this how you see things?” he says flatly, looking around the room.

“tobio, i’m not even-”

“nuh-uh, i think this is a much better impression than i did earlier.” he stops you, still looking around. “i could see below a volleyball net from here, that’s pretty amazing.”

“yeah, well you’re a big, tall...big guy.” you weakly try to counter. his flat face drops for a just a second as a smile breaks through and he nods.

“i’m actually 188cm so i think you need to get on a chair or two.”

[katsukisbimbo]

As The World Caves In

✯ pairing: hawks (takami keigo) x gn! reader

✯ genre: angst. just angst

✯ summary: you knew what no matter how bad keigo fucked up. he would be the only one for you.

✯wordcount: 1.6k+

✯warning: angst. it’s so sad. swearing. major character death.

✯ n/a: i cried so hard writing this. it was just so hard to write because of my immense love for hawks. also read this while listening to “as the world caves in” by matt maltese! it hurts more!

sometimes, you wondered what your life would be like if you rejected takami keigo’s advances towards you. lately, keigo has been too busy for you and would leave and go under radar for weeks at a time without informing you. being with him made your anxiety shoot up at the thought of him never coming back. at the thought of you finding his body cold and decaying. at the thought of never being able to hear him call you kid again.

it’s been two weeks since you’ve last seen him. you were worried, but it’s not like it was his first time doing this. you lounged around in your pajama’s as you had a day off today. you laid on your couch as you reminisced your sweet times with keigo, wanting nothing but to be in his arms.

—-

“kEigO! you fucking DICK!” you yelled as you felt your bird brained boyfriend drop you into the freezing cold water of the lake. he was bent over laughing, clutching his stomach at the sight of you drenched and freezing head to toe. you couldn’t help but admire how beautiful he looked while he laughed. you knew about keigo’s past. you knew that he didn’t have much of a childhood, and you were the one who helped him experience things that he should’ve experienced when he was younger.

“i’m sorry kid, i couldn’t resist! you look too cute pouting at me like that” he chuckled as he walked towards you to wrap his arms and wings around your shivering figure. your scowl dropped as you snuggled your face into his warm chest, relishing this moment with your boyfriend.

“hey keigo? are you gonna leave me again?” you questioned as you tilted your head up to peek at his face, catching him grimace at your question. you already knew the answer. you decided to push your negative thoughts out of your mind and just live in the present with keigo.

“you know i don’t like leaving you kid, but i have to. it’s my job, it’s our job. don’t worry about me, i’ll be back before you know it” he comforted as he pressed a loving kiss onto your forehead.

you just nodded and hugged him tighter, feeling your hot tears threaten to overflow and cascade down the apples of your cheeks.

you both stood there, holding each other as if it was the last time.

—-

you felt your phone vibrate on your stomach, pulling you from your daydreams. it was your agency calling. it must’ve been big if they were calling you on your day off.

“hello?” you answered getting ready to put your hero costume on.

“y/h/n! please get down to musutafu now! hawks needs assistance and nobodies available! he’s in big trouble!” they yelled.

that’s all it took for you to drop everything and run to your lover.

—-

“do you ever think we’re going to have kids in the future?” you question your boyfriend as you two watched the sunset rise on top of your building. you turned your head to look in his direction but he already had his eyes on you. you surely would have blushed if he did this while your relationship was still new. (he’s done it before)

he smiled at you and turned his whole body to face you, making you do the same. he brushed the stray hairs out of your face before cupping your cheek. he was fondly looking at you before he decided to speak.

“we’re gonna have all the kids you want kid. we can have a whole basketball team! just imagine that! we can make our own or adopt!” he giggled excitedly.

it was rare to see your boyfriend like this. most of the time he was very serious, especially during patrol as he took his job quite earnestly. the way he did his job with care and thought was admirable. sure you were in the top 10 as well, but he was number two. you strived to be like your boyfriend.

“i wanna have so many kids keigo. i wanna have a nice house, a dog, and the whole white picket fence thing. i want the whole package.” you whispered as you kissed his chest while drawing patterns on his left hip with your pointer finger.

he let out a breathy laugh and took your hand that was on his hip and placed it against his face, snuggling his cheek against it. you gently caressed his cheek with your thumb, making him sigh in content.

“i love you y/n. i love you so much” he whispered as he moved to capture your lips into an innocent kiss.

what started as an innocent kiss soon turned into a heated makeout session as keigo slipped his tongue into your mouth, rubbing his tongue against yours which caused you to let out a low moan.

you felt him pull away as he hovered over you, raking his eyes down from your glassy eyes to your kiss bitten lips.

“how about we get started on the whole baby thing?” he questioned with a smirk.

—-

you soon arrived at the scene where keigo was supposed to be. it looked like a ghost town. buildings and streets were empty as you checked for anymore civilians in the vicinity. you soon heard a loud crash a few blocks away from your current location and ran towards the sound.

—

“you haven’t been home much keigo” you grumbled as you stirred your tea in your mug. your boyfriend sighed as he felt irritated that you were bringing this up again.

“how many times do i have to say it y/n? it’s my job.” he rolled his eyes.

“don’t give me that shit keigo. i know its your fucking job. it’s my job too. but you’re leaving so often now. i don’t even know if you’ll come back alive. for all i know you could be coming back to me already cold. i’m just worried. and i don’t know where you go either. it’s just not the ideal situation.”

he scoffed. “being a hero is NEVER an ideal situation y/n. you fucking know that. oh wait, you don’t. you don’t have the same responsibilities as me because they don’t trust you enough with that shit. they’re not just gonna let a rinky dink hero take care of shit they can’t handle”

you couldn’t believe that he just said that to you. all you wanted to do was scream and yell at him. you wanted to tell him how much of an asshole he was. you want him to feel what you were feeling. instead, you just turned your back on him and walked away, not looking back to see if he would follow you.

you soon felt a hand grasp your arm and you were turned to face your solemn looking boyfriend.

“y/n- i didn’t mean that. i’m so sor-“ you grasped his hand holding your arm and pushed it off. feeling your tears finally cascade down your heated cheeks.

“i’m done keigo.” you said as you turned your back on him once more. not seeing him fall down to his knees.

you wanted to go back to him. you wanted to tell him that it was okay. and that you were both just upset. but your pride was too hurt, and so were your feelings.

—-

you felt your thoughts running a mile a minute. was that keigo? was that the villain? who was it? who got hurt?

you soon found out as you arrived on the scene, seeing your former lover covered under a pile of rubble. his once luscious wings were bent in odd angles, most of his feathers already gone.

“keigo. KEIGO! please wake up, keigo wake up please i’m so sorry keigo! please wake up birdie. please wake up” you wailed as you shook him.

“hey baby bird” he coughed as he brought his arm up to pet your head, knowing that you liked getting head pats when you were nervous.

“keigo, wait here okay? just wait i’ll go find that stupid villain and beat their ass okay?” he just nodded and let let his hands rest on his stomach.

—-

“KEIGO! keigo! i’m back! i beat the shit outta that guy and i called for an ambulance. you’re gonna be okay” you panted as you laid yourself right beside keigo’s figure.

he smiled at you and took your hand in his, rubbing smooth circles on your warm palm. keigo looked deathly pale. you sat up to inspect his injuries and saw that his jacket was soaked in his own blood.

you couldn’t believe that you didn’t notice earlier. why didn’t he saying anything? or did he not even feel it anymore?

“k-keigo? talk to me okay? stay awake baby. stay awake for me” you cried as you placed his head onto your lap. he nodded slightly and coughed out a little blood, which you gently wiped away.

“you and i are gonna make the prettiest babies one day. i’m so thankful that you came into my life. without you, i would’ve stayed lost. *cough* you made my days so much brighter pretty bird. i can’t w-wait to marry you one day” he wheezed, mustering up a smile.

this only made you cry harder.

“yes my love, we will. i’m gonna marry you kei. i’m gonna give you the family that you want. we’re gonna name our first son enji right? you’re such an endeavour fanboy. i remember when you told me that i got so upset beca-“ you cut yourself off when you noticed that hawks had gone silent.

“kei? keigo? why am i the only one talking keigo? keigo please. please you can’t leave me. keigo i love you. i’m so sorry baby. please. keigo.” you sobbed, holding his now cold body closer to yours. you heard the ambulances arriving. but it was already too late. he was gone.

“it’s always gonna be you keigo” you whispered as you pressed a one last kiss on his forehead.