#has anyone ever talked about this before? if so send those links!

[merrysithmas]

tw eating disorder

jtk headcanon that after tarsus jim struggles with an eating disorder resulting from his guilt over food/where it comes from/its sustainability/survivor's guilt.

[benedictscanvas]

i'd love to love you, someday - remus lupin x reader

pairing: remus lupin x fem!reader

word count: 1.4k

warnings: it's just pining fluff with a couple pet names

a/n: hello sunflowers <3 this can be read as a part two to this, but it works on its own! i can't stop writing soft!fic right now, so if you have any requests along those lines, please do send them in. this was also technically requested by @onceuponaoneshot, I know you asked for young!Remus but i'm picturing early twenties in this!! i hope that's okay and i'm wishing you so well lovely <3

---

Remus has now kissed the top of your head three times. He’s told you that he likes you twice. He still does not think that you’re aware of the overwhelmingly massive/silly little crush he has on you.

Crush is the wrong word, but he also thinks telling someone you love them before you’re even with them is, at best, naive and, at worst, selfish. He’s not in love with you, but he knows he could be. He knows he would be if he could kiss you on the top of the head whenever he liked, if he could run the backs of his knuckles over your cheek and stare at you, really stare at you. He knows he’d be in love with you then.

He needs to get you the message about his feelings first, though, because you seem persistent in ignoring them. He’d told you he liked you more than the rest of your friends at the night market and all you’d done is start referring to him as your best friend. He’d kissed you on the crown of your head twice at that time, then kissed you on the temple during a brave parting hug a week later. Just yesterday, after he’d watched you arguing with Sirius in the pub about something that didn’t matter at all, he told you breathlessly.

“I like you so much,” he had said, watching your chest heave after all that talking you’d done, watching a drop of sweat travel down your neck because the heating in this place is always far too hot.

You had laughed as if he said something funny and then almost shoved him over in your haste to get away from him. If he didn’t know you as he does, or if he listened to his insecurities, he’d think you were trying to brush him off. But he knows you, really knows you. He knows you were as embarrassed by his words as you are in the face of almost any affection. It’s why you call him an idiot so often, with that look in your eyes that gives him so much bloody hope. It hurts his chest sometimes.

Today he’s going to tell you how he feels and you’re going to understand him. He’s decided it.

“Remus!” you greet him, with an excitement he’s never sure he’s earned. You catch him in a tight hug, arms wrapped around his shoulders, so he braves his fourth kiss to the top of your head. When you pull away, you’re beaming up at him, “It’s so good to see you.”

“You saw me yesterday, lovely,” he says, just a fact, not a complaint. You furrow your brow. It’s adorable.

“Exactly. It’s so good to see you today. Especially without people trying to ruin our bestie time.”

He’s been pretending to hate that new phrase, so he rolls his eyes at you, but you just can’t stop beaming. He’s finding it difficult not to join you.

“You mean Sirius?”

You huff at the mention of him.

“He took up so much of my time last night. About cows! Can you believe that?”

“Yes,” he says, smiling wryly at you. You and Sirius could argue about anything and despite any protests, you both enjoyed it immensely.

“Right,” you huff again, “But still. It meant not nearly enough time talking to you. And I want to hear about your week! You said there was a promotion you were thinking of going for?”

He had said that. In a group setting, where he didn’t expect anyone to ever ask about it again. He’d been threatening to go for a promotion for a few years, but never quite managing to go for it.

“I thought you’d assume I chickened out again.”

“You’ve never chickened out!” you protest, linking you arm through his as you start walking through the park you’ve met in. At some point you’ll try to remember stop for lunch, but Remus isn’t sure when, “You decided it wasn’t for you.”

“Because I was scared,” he argued but you slapped him gently on the hand instinctively.

“Stop being self-deprecating” you warn him, “I don’t enjoy it.”

And he never wants to do anything you don’t enjoy, so he stops immediately. It’s amazing the effect you can have on him. He’s going to tell you so, so soon. Very soon. Next few sentences, he thinks. But then sentences go by and you get into a rather brilliant conversation and he just can’t butt in with his own wants. 

“Lily thinks he’s being stubborn but I think he just wants everything to be right for her.”

The two of you have been talking about Lily and James and their potential engagement for a few minutes now. It’s only a matter of time, but how much time is up for debate.

“He’s a romantic. It has to be perfect for her. You’d think he knows by now there’s no such thing.”

“You don’t believe in perfect?” you ask him, no longer clinging on to his arm but walking close enough that your arms brush every now and then.

“Not objective perfection, no,” he says, measuring his words carefully, “But I think something can be perfect to someone, you know? People can be perfect for each other.”

You wiggle your eyebrows at him and he knows the teasing is coming. He feels the flush creeping up his neck already.

“Like soulmates?”

Your eyes are alight with mischief.

“I suppose. If they’re not predestined. If you can choose your soulmate.”

“You think we were destined to be besties or that we chose each other then?” you say, as if it’s the most nonchalant thing in the world and you’re not implying that you might be soulmates. He feels lightheaded.

“You think we’re soulmates?”

“Answer my question, Rem! It’s a hypothetical, you love a hypothetical.”

You still look mischievous, not hypothetical, but he’ll answer you anyway.

“I don’t know how you feel, but I think I chose you as one of my favourite people. I feel very lucky you chose me back.”

He’s definitely blushing. He can feel it, even without bringing his hands to his cheeks to give it away. You’re grinning at him, and it’s making him blush more, but he also feels better. Feels like you might finally understand his meaning.

“This is why I can’t argue with you like I do Sirius,” you say, which wasn’t what he was expecting, “We agree on far too much.”

He smiles down at the ground to stop himself from barking out an altogether unattractive laugh. But it’s his chance and he’s going to take it, because he wants to so desperately.

“If my soul has a mate, I think it’s you,” he says quietly.

He’s sure his heart stutters in his chest in the brief silence that follows. You both walk a few more slow paces forwards but then you finally speak up.

“I’ve never had a person like you, all my life,” you say seriously, staring up into his face for a moment before you have to look where you’re going again and the moment he thinks is coming fades, “We must be as close as it gets, buddy.”

Buddy. His heart sinks. You are the prettiest human being in the world and the most oblivious and Remus really, really wants to fall in love with you. If only you’d let him. If only you could hear him basically declare you his potential soulmate and realise he might have some intentions towards you that weren’t very platonic.

He’s not sure if he’s chickened out or if you have, but he decides whatever moment he wanted isn’t going to arrive today. He spots a nearby cafe after a few minutes talking about his potential promotion, which he pinky promises to go for, so he’ll have to follow through.

A three hour lunch later, and another half hour walking back to your cars, and he hasn’t said another word to you about his feelings. But he’s had a lovely few hours and he thinks you have too.

"Bye, Rem. See you Wednesday?"

There's four of you going to play mini golf on Wednesday night. He hates mini golf.

"Can't wait. Bye, sweetheart."

Whatever rush he thinks he’s in fades when you kiss him on the cheek as you say goodbye. Once you’ve driven off in your car, waving to him all the way down the road, he decides that you might be working up the courage for something too, and he might need to wait until you’re both feeling brave to do something about it. 

He can wait. He carries that kiss on the cheek with him the rest of the weekend and into the next week, where he puts his name down for that promotion first thing Monday.

And if it’s solely so he has something to text you about, so be it.

---

if you've gotten this far, please know i'm very grateful. really hope you enjoyed, sunflowers <3

[pepsiboyy]

idk if you take fic requests! but maybe a fic based off of Greek God by Conan Gray. like Matt or Chris pretend they don’t like yn where they’re around their sport (whatever sport, you choose!) friends. they all have a really high ego and are cocky. but there’s a tension between M/C and yn bc they used to be friends until M/C got popular but yn didn’t so now they’re not friends cuz M/C let his popularity status get to him. but they sometimes speak on the down low (M/C doesn’t wanna be seen talking to yn) they’re families are family friends which is why they’re technically forced to still talk every once in a while. but eventually the tension gets too intense, and well, M/C can’t handle it anymore and it ends up turning into a childhood friends to enemies to lovers type story 🤭 ALSO, YN STANDS HER GROUND AND DOESNT LET M/C GET HER THAT EASILY, SHES NOT JUST GONNA FALL FOR HIM INSTANTLY CUZ HE FINALLY STARTS PAYING ATTENTION TO HER!! thanks!!

GREEK GOD.

pairing: chris sturniolo x fem!reader summary: just read the request :p warnings: cursing, mentioned of alcohol, being drunk, use of y/n lol, angst (resolved sorta) a/n: THANK U SO MUCH FOR THIS REQUEST!!! i hope it's what you were looking for, i spent a lot of time trying to make this work :") thank you so much for the request!!

i stood at the edge of the ice rink, my hands clasping together with high hopes.

i came to cheer on matt and chris, with nick seated beside me as he scrolled through instagram and snacked on some chips that he brought.

nick was my best friend, without a doubt. i told him everything. matt was one of my comfort friends. someone i didn't talk to as often as nick, but enough to where i feel fully comfortable talking to him about whatever may happen. chris, on the other hand...

chris was chris.

it was hard to describe the dynamic the two of us shared.

chris and i actually used to be closer than me and nick, or anyone, honestly.

he would pick me up when i fell, give me some of his snacks and even a sip of his pepsi if i wanted. he would reassure me when i felt low, and even put me in my place if he knew i was out of line.

before we knew it, high school rolled around. freshman year was relatively normal, sophomore year too.

junior year he started making newer friends, but he also had a different lunch period from the rest of us. i'd only really see him when matt gave me rides home.

senior year rolled around, and chris was a changed person. ever since he made it to the varsity hockey team with his new friends, he changed. he claims it's because we "grew apart" but we didn't. he goes out of his way to make me look bad in front of his friends, or even act like he has no idea who i am. it kind of made me feel stupid.

matt being on varsity with him didn't help his case at all, either.

so, when i came to watch them play, nick would sit with me and i would cheer on them both, even if chris pretended to hate me.

so, here i am. standing at the edge of the rink with nick, who was now standing beside me as we watched the two we knew and loved. matt effortlessly weaving past a defender, sending the puck flying towards chris, who sent it into the goal and made it.

the sound of skates cutting through ice was sharp in my ears, and the bright arena lights cast a glow over everyone while each and every cheer echoed in the cold air.

i remember when we all used to skate together freshman year here, the arena empty and our arms all linked together because i couldn't skate for the life of me, on matter how bad i tried.

those days felt like a lifetime ago now.

you had all grown a lot since then.

apart, apparently.

"hey, y/n, what are you doin' here?" a boy from the team questioned, skating to the glass with a cocky grin. "came to see the champ?" he asked, referring to chris.

i rolled my eyes and crossed my arms, allowing my eyes to trail elsewhere. "just here to support my friends." i mumbled.

chris glanced over, his expression neutral, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes - guilt, maybe, or recognition of the unspoken tension between them. before i could look away, he turned back to his friends, laughing at some joke i couldn't hear.

i sighed and took a seat beside nick again, letting out a soft hum as i did. the familiar sting of hurt and anger was beginning to get to me.

the memory of chris and i being inseparable, chris changing, chris making fun of me to his friends, all of it. it hurt. popularity inflated his ego, and i always refused to be an admirer in his little fan club.

after the game, i found myself lingering near the exit of the rink. i typically waited for the crowd to die and the traffic to slow down before leaving. it was too busy for me.

the locker room door swung open, and out poured the hockey team that was riding out the high of their win. chris was among them, laughing loudly and tossing his hockey stick over his shoulder. we met eyes for a moment, and his smile seemed to falter. until he leaned to a friend of his and nudged them, mumbling something to make them both laugh.

"hey, y/n!" chris called out. "didn't think you'd stick around here. still obsessed with me or what?"

i stared at chris with a deadpanned expression. "stop getting me to stroke your ego, christopher." i bit back, trying to keep my voice steady.

this shit was annoying, really.

chris's friends snickered, and he shrugged it off, turning away as if i were nothing more than an afterthought to him. "whatever. let's get out of here."

the group moved past me, their laughter seeming to echo in the hallway. i felt a lump form in my throat, but i refused to let anyone see me get upset over something to miniscule.

i knew this version of chris was a facade, but that didn't really make it hurt any less. the boy i once loved and cared for deeply was now buried under layers of arrogance and bravado, and i wasn't about to let him off the hook so easily.

the crowd began to die down, so i gathered myself and pushed out of the door, making my way towards my car.

as i walked towards the car, i saw chris again, this time with his brothers as they leaned against their minivan and talked about the game together.

for a moment, chris looked up, and our eyes met. there was a flicker of something in his gaze - regret, maybe, or a silent apology - but it vanished as quickly as it appeared.

he mumbled something to his brothers before he kicked off and made his way towards me.

"need a ride home? matt can take you." his tone was casual, but strained.

i stared at chris for a moment in disbelief, before quickly shaking my head and sighing. "no thanks. i can manage."

chris opened his mouth as if to say something, but then closed it, looking away. the silence between us stretched, and it filled with all the things left unsaid.

and with that, i turned on my heel and began walking home.

saturday. the days where the sturniolo household invited me for dinner were so much fun, genuinely. they were an amazing family. and chris typically acted normal around her when she was invited over.

i pulled into the driveway of their home, smiling softly to myself as i turned the music down. i pulled down the mirror and fixed my hand, humming to myself before taking my keys.

i was wearing something pretty cozy, just a crewneck and some bleached jeans and converse. they were like my second family, no need to get fancy.

i knocked on the door, where matt answered and pulled me into a hug of greeting. "hi, y/n," he breathed and smiled softly before leading me further into their home, where i was met with nick, marylou, their mother, and jimmy, their father.

"where's chris?" i questioned, the words falling from my lips faster than i could stop them.

nick exchanged a look with matt before he shrugged. "not sure, he just said he was going to some hockey party for their win last night."

i scoffed and nodded, taking a seat in my usual spot between nick and marylou.

the empty chair across from me was honestly quite intimidating. more than it would have been if chris were there.

chris was always the one with crazy stories and conversation topics.

we sat in a comfortable silence, though, which i'm sure nick and matt enjoyed as they listen to chris every day of their lives.

"you're still goin' to their hockey games and cheerin' em on?"

marylou questioned, and i turned to her and smiled. "yeah, they're really great, actually." i smiled softly, and marylou nodded.

"i know chris has been on a bit of an ego train, i hope he's still been kind to you guys." jimmy mumbled softly.

i swallowed and rubbed the back of my head. "yeah, he's been great, actually." i lied.

nick and matt stared at me, but decided not to question it before continuing their meal.

but then my phone began to ring, and everyone's attention shifted to me.

"i'm so sorry," i quickly mumbled as i removed it from my pocket and immediately felt every bit of air in my lungs leave.

why is chris calling me?

i rose to my feet and held up a finger, chuckling nervously. "i'm gonna take this," i mumbled quickly.

i made my way down the hall and to the front room. "hello?" i questioned softly.

"y/n/n," chris slurred on the other end. "i- i'm at a party, and.." he trailed off before giggling to himself, "i might.. need a ride home," he mumbled.

i sighed, rubbing my temple in annoyance. "where are you?"

chris mumbled an address, hardly coherent. "can you... can you come get me? please?"

i sighed to myself. "why can't you get matt or nick or something?"

"they'll get pissed," he stated, a little clearer than the rest of his sentences. "i don't want them to worry about me." chris struggled to get the word worry out of his system, making me crack a slight smile.

"fine," i stated as i fixed myself, "stay put. i'll be there soon."

i hung up the phone and made my way back to the dining room, where everyone collectively turned to me.

"everything alright?" nick asked, and i quickly nodded.

"everything's good, i do have to go, though. i'm so sorry you guys. i'll make it up to you?" i smiled. "i just, um.. have to run."

they all exchanged looks before nodding and bidding me farewell, nick walking me out.

i sat in my car and typed the address into my phone, rubbing my forehead.

i didn't enjoy parties. they were loud, sweaty, gross and full of annoying ass kids. usually.

and as i pulled up, it was just that. a typical high school party scene - loud music, teenagers spilling out onto the lawn, and the faint smell of alcohol and weed in the air. i found chris on the footsteps, his head buried in his hands. i quickly made my way towards him after parking and kneeled down in front of him.

"come on, let's get you home." i said, helping him to his feet.

chris leaned on my heavily as we made our way to my car. i buckled him in and got into the driver's sear, the tension between us palpable in the confined space. as i drove, chris mumbled some incoherent words, his head lolling against the window.

"y/n," he suddenly said, his voice clearer but thick with emotion. "i'm sorry."

i glanced at him, eyebrows raised. "for what?"

"for everything," he continued, his eyes half-closed. "for being an ass. for ignoring you. for... for all of it."

i took a deep breath as i felt a mixture of sadness and anger bubbling within me. i gripped the steering wheel tighter, unsure of how to respond. "you're drunk, chris. you don't know what you're saying."

"no," chris insisted, reaching out and touching my arm. "i do, i've been a jerk. i miss you. i miss us."

i pulled into my own driveway, knowing chris wouldn't want to see his family like this. i would just take his phone and send them a text saying he was with a friend tonight or something.

i turned off the engine and took a deep breath. "let's get you inside."

chris stumbled out of the car, leaning on me for support the whole way to the door. i fished for my keys and unlocked the door, quickly guiding him to my living room couch.

as i laid a blanket over him, he grabbed my hand as his eyes locked with mine.

"i still care about you, y/n. i always have."

my heart pounded, but i forced a laugh, trying to deflect the intensity of the moment. "sleep it off, chris. we'll talk in the morning, okay?"

i brushed a few loose strands from his forehead and stood up, turning off the light and going to my room. my mind raced with conflicting emotions.

part of me wanted to believe his drunken confession, but another part of me was still so angry. still hurt by the way he had treated me. as i laid in bed and stared at my ceiling, i couldn't shake the feeling that things between us were far from over. and that this was just the beginning of a much more complicated story.

the sizzling of the bacon on the oven was comforting, in a way. i had an airpod in, playing some softer, but upbeat music to get me up and going for the long, long day ahead.

i turned my head upon hearing some shuffling in the kitchen, meeting eyes with chris. "morning," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

"morning," i replied, placing a plate of food with bacon, eggs and sausage onto the counter in front of him. "eat up. you'll feel better."

he sat down and started eating, occasionally glancing at me as i cleaned up the kitchen. after a few minutes of awkward silence, he looked at me. "look, about last night.."

i crossed my arms and leaned against the counter. "what about it?"

chris looked down at his plate, poking at his eggs. "i meant what i said, you know. but i was drunk, and.. and maybe it didn't come out right-"

"maybe?" i questioned, my voice sharp. "you've been treating me like i don't exist for months, chris. one drunken apology doesn't fix that."

he winced at my words, but nodded. "i know, i've been an idiot. i got caught up in... everything. the team, the popularity. but that's no excuse."

"no, it's not." i stated, my anger beginning to bubble to the surface. "you think you can just waltz back into my life with a half-assed apology and everything will be fine? it doesn't work that way." i spat.

chris stood up, stepping closer. "i'm not asking for everything to be fine overnight. i'm asking for a chance to make things right."

i shook my hear, my eyes flashing with frustration. "do you even realize how much you hurt me? how it felt to be ignored, to be treated like i was nothing?"

"i do now," he said quietly. "and i'm sorry. truly. i want to make it up to you, if you'd let me."

i looked up at him, searching his eyes for any sign of insincerity. he seemed genuine, his usual bravado stripped away, leaving only the boy she used to know.

"i don't know if i can trust you," i admitted, my voice softer now.

chris reached out and took my hand in his. "i get that. and i will do whatever it takes to earn your trust back."

he pulled me into a tight hug, where i gently hugged his waist and took in his scent.

i missed this.

"just one date. give me a chance?" chris mumbled, the smile audible in his tone.

i hesitated, my mind racing. part of me wanted to say no, to protect myself from his bullshit. but another part of me remembered all of the good times.

"one date," i finally stated, my voice firm. "but this doesn't mean i'm just forgiving you, chris. you have a lot to prove."

he nodded quickly, his lips curving into a smile. "i promise i won't let you down."

i pulled away from his embrace and smiled at him before turning to the sink and doing the dishes. "you better now."

as i did the dishes, i felt a glimmer of hope mixed with lingering doubt. chris had a long way to go to earn the trust i had for him back, but for the first time in months, she felt like maybe, just maybe, things could change.

[thetaekookcloset]

Checking In ~! (And Signing Off)

Hello, everyone!

I logged in for a few minutes today just to check in on some other blogs, and I knew some people would probably see that I've been online so I wanted to say a quick hello and thank you to everyone who's been looking for me, thinking of me, and sending in sweet comments saying that you've missed the blog -- thanks so much for thinking of me!

I thought I'd give you a few rapid-fire answers to some questions I've seen since logging on and that have been floating around, starting with why I've been gone. The honest answer is that I never intended to run this blog forever, which is why I worked so hard to make sure it was well-organized, so that it could remain as a resource even after I moved on from it. I've had a lot going on in my life for the past couple of years, including buying a house with my partner and making a new best friend (you know who you are lol love youuuu), not to mention keeping up with all the members' solo projects! For the most part, I felt that I said what I had to say, and so I've been putting my fandom energy into other areas.

That said, there have of course been developments since I've been gone, so let me address some of them briefly.

Several people seemed to want to know how I feel about Taennie these days. I feel the same as I did before. I would be pretty damn surprised if anything legitimate were to ever come out about Tae and Jennie being involved. Everything that links them together is flimsy and circumstantial at best, whereas Jennie's links to G-Dragon have remained consistent and compelling, and regardless of Taehyung's relationship with Jungkook, I feel pretty confident that he is, shall we say, not especially interested in women in that way.

As for the developments in Jikook's relationship, and more specifically in the common Jikooker narratives lately, I feel the same as I always have. I think Jungkook and Jimin are clearly good friends who are very comfortable with each other. I'm glad they have each other close by for their military service as forced conscription must be hard on anyone and those two in particular seemed less than enthusiastic about the experience. I do not, however, believe that it would be safe for them to enlist together to potentially stay in close quarters if they were in a romantic relationship, nor do I think they would be put together by the company for content like a whole duo show, complete with photobook and merchandise, if they were in a relationship.

Taekook, on the other hand, proved again and again throughout 2023 that they were seeing each other often, keeping up with one another's lives and work, and remaining as close as they always have been, as there is and always has been ample evidence to prove. A few of my favorite moments: Tae saying that Jungkook would sing him "To Find You" from Sing Street, a song about being destined to find someone despite not believing in fate, and pulling up Jungkook's cover to listen to, while Jungkook was away; Jungkook mentioning Tae unprompted, like sharing his memory of going snowboarding with Tae and his friends when asked to talk about why he chose "Ditto" for his Spotify interview and mentioning that he loves the song "Golden Hour" during a live; Tae playing "For Us" and doing a little boxing move when JK happened to be in California; Jungkook asking Taehyung "Where have you been?" when he showed up late to Inkigayo -- I could go on honestly, probably forever, so I'll make myself stop here.

That's part of the thing with this blog. I could go on and on, and I have so much that I love and want to do and say, so many other directions I want to spread that energy, so I don't plan to stick around. But I wanted to say thank you to everyone who has missed me; I genuinely didn't anticipate that, and it means a lot. I hope you're all doing well, and finding spaces for yourselves in this wild fandom we share.

TL;DR -- I'm sure the question anyone would most want me to answer is just this: Do I still believe in Taekook?

Yeah, I do. More than ever before really. I think their relationship speaks for itself, more than I ever could, for anyone willing to listen.

Borahae!

[radskull-69]

Adam x reader headcanon’s

First things first, this man is a pathetic bitch. Though he definitely won’t admit it to anyone, not even himself.

this guy has been divorced TWICE, like- goddamn bro.

but even then he’d be a cocky son of a bitch, so when he meets you he act as if the relationship is nothing but another lay.

so this is all before dating officially

though he does do small things to show he cares, like whenever you’re going out to eat he’ll ask if you want anything without asking you to pay.

def one of those guys that’s plays the guitar to you while making long uncomfortable eye contact, like that scene with Ken and barbie.

would only watch barbie with you because he thinks it’ll get him head that night, doesn’t understand the movie at all even if you try to explain.

calls you basic pet names like ‘babe’ ‘sexy’ ‘baby girl’, but his own special pet name for you is ‘cunt master’ to match his own title.

he’s over you like a cat, he’d be leaning heavily against your smaller frame while talking about nothing before he pushed you away and walked off with a ‘cya babe!’

makes you both share a Spotify playlist because he’s seen other people do it, but he will make fun of most of the songs you add

sends you links to porn he thinks are cool

sends you a million memes a day and when you don’t watch them all he gets pissy

HATES apples, apples are banned from the house. That goes for apple juice too.

Adam, the typa guy to wear a shirt like THIS

plays video games religiously (lol, get it?) and makes you play with him, but if you beat him he’ll always say ‘it’s because he let you’

encourages you to fold your wings in the same manner he does, and when you do you realise just how comfy it is. He’s smug about it

if he ever sees you in public he’ll start yelling your name and wave you over, he won’t stop yelling and he won’t be the one coming to you. Even if the other angels around get annoyed by his ruckus

takes you to work with him and when sera questions it he says your his ‘emotional support angel’ and if they make you leave he’ll call it work abuse.

listens to music as he sleeps, but it’s never calm music. It’s always rock or metal blasting in his ears and he sleeps like a baby because of it

encourages you to get matching tattoos, he feels it’ll make this situationship feel more permanent without him needing to say it

his tattoo says ‘dick master’ and yours say ‘cunt master’

cats hate him and he hates cats

makes you both go to the beach just so he can show off his bod, and totally not to check out yours-

btw, this guy is chubby. Even then he gloats about his body (as he should) but deep deep down he is insecure, he’ll never admit it tho.

his tinder profile was so cringey thank god he doesn’t have tinder anymore

Makes Candace jokes ALL THE DAMN TIME

[reinerispretty]

your friend's boyfriend's best friend

(a reiner braun x reader modern au)

i've had this on ao3 for a bit but i wanted to make things more easily accessible for people on here! so first chapters of my fics will be posted to this account and if you'd like to continue reading, the link to the full fic on ao3 will be available at the bottom :)

SUMMARY:

Fresh out of a long-term relationship, you now need a place to live. Enter Reiner Braun, the timid, busy, and devastatingly attractive best friend of your friend's boyfriend. He's got a room to spare and doesn't mind cats, so you leap at the offer. Still healing and figuring yourself out, you're absolutely, positively, one-thousand percent certain nothing will happen between the two of you.

It all starts with you breaking up with Jean.

Well, ask any of your friends and they’ll say it was mutual, because that’s what you tell them. And maybe that’s what Jean thinks, too, and that’s fine for him and his healing process, but that isn’t the case. You were the one that broached the topic, that realized spending life with him was less like living with your soulmate and more like having a roommate (that you frequently had sex with). There never seemed to be anything to talk about anymore, and the two of you used to talk about everything . You both became complacent. 

Plus, you aren’t an idiot. You know that love changes overtime, that things don’t always have to be as exciting as they used to be. That’s why you spent a few months putting a lot of thought into it, just to make sure. What you found was that the two of you weren’t quite looking at each other like you used to. That you weren’t excited to come home and tell him about your day, but rather indifferent. That you didn’t wake up in the middle of the night, look over, and think about how much you loved him.

So you broke up with Jean. And truthfully, it went easier than you expected. Once you voiced your concerns, he’d realized he’d been feeling similarly. Which sort of made you sad, but you digress.

(There’s also the matter of him almost definitely being in love with your best friend. But that’s a topic to be broached at a later date.)

So Jean sends out emails to get your name taken off the lease and you’re frantically texting everyone you know, asking if they have a couch you can crash on (and a garage to put everything in). He’s offered to let you stay, because he’s kind and would never put you (or your cat Toast) out on the street, but you’d rather die than do that. It would only make things weirder. After all, you’re adamant to maintain a friendship with him. He was your friend before you started dating, and a rather good one at that, so you’ll do anything you can to keep your breakup resentment-free. And crashing at your ex’s place when you aren’t having crazy toxic make-up sex is incredibly embarrassing. To you, at least. 

Eren lets you crash at his and Armin’s place for a few nights, but their pull-out couch isn’t a permanent solution. Out of the roughly fifty-million texts you send, only one person responds saying they know of someone who’s renting a room. You don’t think Annie Leonhart has ever been considered an angel, but she’s your angel for telling you about her boyfriend’s best friend who is looking for a roommate. 

You meet up for coffee to talk about it. Your freshman year of college the two of you had been placed together randomly, and you’d gotten along well enough that neither of you felt the need to room with anyone else. She’s clean, quiet, and horrifically honest, so if she doesn’t think this place is the right fit for you, she’ll let you know. 

“I think you’ll get along,” She says as she sips her matcha. You stare at her with wide eyes. You didn’t actually expect those words to come out of her mouth. Annie’s standards are as high as a skyscraper. “Reiner’s low maintenance.” 

“You make him sound like a pet,” You say, and Annie hums, pinching off a piece of your blueberry muffin.

“Not unlike it. He sticks to a very strict routine. Eats all three meals at the same time every day. I’m sure if you left out a treat or toy for him every once in a while, he’d appreciate it.” 

You roll your eyes, tapping your fingers against your coffee cup. “How long has Bert known him?” 

Bertholdt is Annie’s boyfriend. He’s the tallest person you’ve ever seen. Upon meeting him, you’d told her to “climb him like a tree.” She’d listened.

You like Bertholdt for her. He makes her soft, in a good way. He looks at her like the stars are in her eyes. 

“Since we were kids.” 

“Do you know him?” 

“Barely.” 

“What’s he like?” 

“He’s nice. Little bit of a meathead sometimes. He goes to the gym a lot but he isn’t that annoying about it.” 

You smile at what Annie deems appropriate to note. “So he isn’t a creep?” 

She glares at you, but it’s friendly. You’d know, you’ve been on the receiving end of her not-so-friendly glares plenty of times. “I wouldn’t let you stay with a creep.” She takes another piece of your blueberry muffin as penance. “He used to live with Marcel, but then Marcel fucked off to go study plants in Australia, so his younger brother moved in to help Reiner with the rent.” Annie sighs. “Everyone knew that wouldn’t last long.” 

“Why?” 

“Porco and Reiner have never gotten along. I don’t know why they thought it was a good idea to live together.” You’re trying to keep up with all the names. You and Annie come from separate hometowns, not to mention she’s an inherently private person, so the only people you really know from her life are her dad and Bertholdt. “This is all to say that Reiner needs someone else to help cover the rent.” 

You sip your coffee, bracing yourself to ask the question that’s been on your mind ever since you found out about this Reiner Braun . “Is he up for living with a girl?”

Annie raises a lazy eyebrow. “Why wouldn’t he be?” 

“Well, I don’t know. Some people get weird about it. Like, they think it’s gonna stop them from hooking up with people or something.” The last thing you want is some crazy person banging down your door.

“I’ve already told him a little about you. He’s fine with it.” 

It feels like a thousand pounds have been lifted off your chest. Smiling brightly, you say, “Alright, deal!” 

Moving in with Reiner doesn’t go how moving in is supposed to go. You don’t visit the property first and make sure it’s all up to snuff before signing the lease. You haven’t even met Reiner to see if he’s a good match as a roommate. The most you’ve spoken to him are a few texts from when Annie gave you his number to discuss move-in related things. He’s a very straightforward texter, ending his sentences in periods that make you think he’s mad at you. 

“So you don’t even know who this guy is?” Eren asks as his fingers drum against the steering wheel to the beat of the song playing through the speakers. Although he’d snatched up the aux, he’d played one of your playlists, something with a lot of emo throwbacks. (He’s always playing your music because he’s too lazy to go hunting for songs of his own.) When you’d requested help moving out, he’d leapt at the offer and volunteered his brother’s truck so you wouldn’t have to rent one. Eren’s been a great friend to you during the breakup, but you think it’s largely because of how much he despises Jean. You think they would be great friends if Eren wasn’t such an asshole most of the time. 

“Never met him,” You confirm. “But he’s friends with Annie and Bertholdt, so I’m not worried. Plus I stalked him on the internet to make sure he wasn’t a psycho.” 

“What if he is a psycho and is just really good at hiding it?” 

“Hmm,” You pretend to consider. “I guess I’ll just die.” The look Eren gives you is full of annoyance. You know he’s worried about you. He’s so protective over all his friends. “Would it make you feel better if you met him? He won’t be there but he said he’d be back sometime this evening.”

“Will you buy dinner?” 

“If you’re asking me to thank you for your services in food rather than actual money, then yes.” 

Eren thinks for a moment as he pulls down the street– your new street. “Yeah, I’ll stay. Make sure his gym bag isn’t full of chopped up body parts.” And you roll your eyes.

Your GPS alerts your arrival as Eren slows to a stop in front of the house. It’s a split level with pale blue siding and grey shutters. It sticks out like a sore thumb among the mini-mansions in the neighborhood.

Eren backs into the driveway to make it easier to unload everything. As he unties the bungee cords that keep all of your things contained, you head to the planter where Reiner said he’d leave the spare key. Your key, now. You find it just barely covered by dirt and unlock the door to your new home.

It’s always strange walking into someone’s home and finding out what it smells like. Reiner’s house doesn’t smell bad, just different from what you’re used to. It smells older, and like that one cinnamon apple Walmart candle boys always buy to cover any unappealing scents.

You give everything a once-over as you try to locate your room. You think it could use a dusting, but otherwise it looks relatively clean. By your standards, anyway. 

Your room is in the upstairs half of the house, to the right and down the hall. There’s a bathroom on your way, as well as a few other doors you’ll have to explore later. You push open your bedroom door and are relieved to find it’s spacious and in good shape. Reiner had sent you a few pictures of the place, but he hadn’t taken the right angles and you were too nervous to ask for them. 

Running back outside, you start helping Eren carry your things in. You start with the big stuff, like your desk and bookshelf. It’s awkward, maneuvering those things up the steps, but the two of you make it work.

Your cat, Toast, meows unhappily from inside his carrier as you move smaller boxes into your room. You don’t want to risk him running through the door as you unload your things, so he must remain contained for the time being. As you set down a box of your books, you give him a scratch between his ears through the carrier bars. “Just a little longer!” You promise.

By the time you’re done, the sun hangs low in the sky, and you still don’t have a bed. Eren leaves to pick up your bedframe and mattress from Ikea so you can get Toast’s things set up. You want to keep him in your room, just while he adjusts to a new home. He’ll be sad when he figures out Jean isn’t here, and you’d rather he not tear up the furniture of the nice man who lets the two of you stay here. 

You set up his litterbox, his water fountain and food dishes, and his cat trees in your room. Once that’s all done, you undo his carrier lock and let him roam free. Toast bumps into your hand immediately before carefully exploring every inch of your new room. 

You’re grateful Reiner’s been so accommodating, but you wonder if part of him feels like he has to be because you’re his best friend’s girlfriend’s friend. When you texted him asking whether or not it was alright to have Toast, he’d said, “ That’s fine. ” You don’t think that sounds like someone who’s thrilled to have animals in their home. 

The screen door slams shut and you assume it’s Eren. Hopping to your feet, you carefully slide out of your room and shut Toast in. You call out as you walk down the hall, “I was thinking of pizza for tonight, but I know you said you wanted to try that new Thai place–” You round the corner and find who you can only assume is Reiner coming up the stairs.

He’s tall, much taller than you or Eren, and for some reason you hadn’t anticipated that from the grainy picture of him Annie sent. You suppose you should’ve known, considering Bertholdt had been standing at his side, and he was still a few inches taller than Reiner. He’s also, unfortunately, much more attractive than you’d been expecting. (The picture was taken at a wedding reception, so both Bertholdt and Reiner were incredibly sweaty looking.) 

Annie’s gym bro assessment of him had been accurate. He’s broad and obviously muscular, if the way his button-up grips his biceps is any indication. He’s blond, with light eyes, and some stubble along his jawline. Reiner is handsome .

(Later, you’d hiss at Annie from the privacy of your bedroom, “You didn’t tell me he was hot!” )

Your face burns as you realize a lot of seconds have passed and you’ve just been standing there, silently ogling him. “Oh! Hi! I’m (Y/N).” You extend your hand and he drops his laptop bag at the top of the steps to shake it. 

“Nice to finally meet you in person. I’m Reiner.” 

Meeting new people is awkward enough without the added stress of them being nice to look at. You clear your throat. “Sorry, I thought you were my friend. He ran out to pick up my bed frame for me and I promised him I’d order us dinner.” 

“I’ve tried that new Thai place,” Reiner says. “It’s good.” 

You nod again. What are you, a bobblehead? “I’ll let him know it has at least one solid review. Would you, um, would you want me to order you anything? As a thank you for letting me stay here?” 

Reiner smiles. “No, it’s alright. I’m actually gonna head to the gym in a bit. Thanks, though.” 

You stop yourself from nodding again. Right, strict routine. “Okay, well, once I’m more settled in, I’ll definitely be baking you something to let you know how much I appreciate it.” 

“You really don’t have to. I mean, you’re helping me out, too.” You wave a hand. 

“Barely.” He’s saved you from the embarrassment of crashing with your ex for god knows long until you find a place of your own. Or worse, moving back in with your mother. You think you might owe him for the rest of your life.

The truck rumbles into the driveway and you’ve never been more grateful for Eren’s timing, because it’s either you keep standing here nodding like an idiot or retreat to your room. “That’s him!” You say, and Reiner moves out of your way so you can get down the stairs. 

“They brought out the wrong order like three fucking times,” Eren grumbles as he hops out of the truck. “I had to physically write your name down for them to find you.” 

You smile at him and say in a sing-song voice, “Thanks, Eren!” 

“Whatever,” Your friend says. “Let’s get this over with. I’m starving.” 

“Reiner said that new Thai place you’ve been wanting to try is good,” You tell him as he undoes the truck bed door. Eren’s eyebrows raise.” 

“He’s here?” You nod. 

“Got back a few minutes ago. I was so embarrassed, I thought it was you coming in. I offered to buy him dinner too, but he’s heading to the gym.” 

Eren clicks his tongue. “You’ve gotta stop offering handouts.” 

“You’re so dramatic. Buying food isn’t going to make me go bankrupt.” 

“You guys need any help?” Reiner’s voice is right behind you. You yelp, hand flying to your chest as your heart pounds against it. Eren snickers as your face heats up.

“Yeah, that’d be great,” Eren says, just as you’re winding up to tell him it isn’t necessary. “This one has noodles for arms.” 

“I do not , you just walk too fast!” Huffing, you turn to Reiner. “This is Eren. Eren, this is Reiner.” 

“Nice to meet you.” Reiner moves around the truck to help him pull out the boxes that hold your bed frame pieces and mattress. 

“You really don’t have to,” You say. “I don’t want to keep you from your plans.” Eren gives you a look that says, Let the big strong man do the work for you, idiot. 

Reiner shrugs. “It won’t take long,” He assures. 

“Why don’t you go inside and get Toast out of the way so we can bring this in?” Eren suggests. You narrow your eyes at him, feeling as though you’re being dismissed. 

“I can’t decide if this is anti-feminist or very feminist. But fine. Don’t break my shit, Jaeger.” 

You prop the door open and scoop Toast into your arms to keep him from tripping the guys. You try to keep yourself busy so you don’t look completely useless (and so you don’t stare at the way Reiner’s arms move when he brings in your bed frame and mattress. Instead you choose to find setting up your internet to be the most interesting thing in the world.)

“Thanks so much, Reiner,” You tell him as he leaves your room. He gives you a smile over his shoulder. 

“Not a problem. Make yourself at home.” With that, he leaves the house entirely, and you shut your door so you can set Toast down. When you turn, you find Eren glaring at you.

“What, I don’t get any thanks?” He asks, wiping sweat from his forehead.

The two of you decide to take a break to order food from the Thai restaurant. Once it’s delivered, you’re hesitant to sit down at the kitchen table and eat. Eren, however, is not as he yanks a chair back and tears into the take-out bag.

“It’s your house too,” He reminds you. Carefully, you sit. 

“I know, I just don’t know if he has any rules or specific ways he wants things done.” 

Eren looks at you like you’re stupid. “Rules about eating at a table?” 

“I know I’m being ridiculous,” You mumble. “But I just want to be as little of a nuisance as possible.” 

“Did Jean make you feel like that?” You’re surprised he asks this. He’s been very good about not not bringing up Jean all day, but you suppose he just wants to make sure your ex never made you feel less-than. You don’t doubt that if he had any actual reason, Eren wouldn’t think twice about beating the actual fuck out of Jean. 

“No, not at all,” And that’s the truth. “Living with Jean was easy. I just know it’s not always going to be like that with other people.” 

Eren grunts as he starts digging into his food. “If I had a room to spare, you know you’d be living with me right now.” 

You smile at him. “I know. Thanks.” 

Your day with Eren is far from over, because once you’re both done eating and you’ve rested for a proper amount of time, he helps you build your bed. You’d insisted you could do it on your own and he hadn’t believed you, which you’re grateful for, because the wooden pieces are excruciatingly heavy. The entire process puts a strain on your friendship. You even have to Facetime Armin to settle an argument about measurements, but by the end of it you’re both laughing as you try your best to get the fitted sheet on your mattress. 

Eren takes you back to Jean’s, where you’d left your car that morning. You start to feel oddly emotional. You aren’t sure if it’s because you’re leaving for good, or if it’s because you’re gearing up for the first night by yourself in a long time. 

“Call me if you need anything,” He tells you as he walks to your car door. 

“Yes, Mom,” You press the unlock button, but before you can get in Eren gives you one of his rare hugs. 

You’ve known him since you were itty-bitty, having first met when the two of you were in diapers at some Mommy and Me class. Your mothers became fast friends, which meant that as toddlers and kids, you were always together. You don’t think there’s a single childhood photo of yours that doesn’t have Eren somewhere in it. 

But then his mom died, and your parents divorced, and instead of working through all of that together, you grew apart. You were a reminder of every moment you’d shared with his mother, and thus you magnified her absence. And you shut down, because your father moved out and your mother started her long trail of shitty boyfriends and the one person you wanted to comfort you was dead. You don’t think there’s a word for acquaintances that know each other like the back of their palm, but all throughout high school the two of you passed in the hallways as if you didn’t have a decade of history. 

Fate decided it had enough of this at the start of your freshman year of college when it placed you in a room right across from Eren’s. You both felt like you were little fish in big ponds, and although your friendship started again for the sake of convenience, you stayed friends because you cared about each other. 

You hug him back and try hard not to cry. 

Reiner’s still out when you get home, so you turn on music and finish unpacking your necessities. There are still a lot of things you need to buy for yourself. You hadn’t realized how much of the furniture was Jean’s. You’re using stacked shoe boxes as a nightstand. 

The one thing you’re happy about in all of this is that for the first time in your life, you have your own bathroom. You clean it because it makes you feel better if you’ve wiped things down yourself, and then fill it with your toiletries. Once you’re done, you take a well-deserved shower and wash the sweat from your hair and body.

Drying off, you wrap a towel around yourself and head back to your room. You’re surprised to find Reiner in the hall as well, hanging his jacket in the coat closet. The two of you both stare at each other, wide-eyed and keenly aware that you’re a single piece of fabric away from being naked . Face hot, you turn on your heel and walk quickly into your bedroom. 

You’ll have to buy a robe.

liked the first chapter? keep reading here!

[agentstarkid]

This little story turns one year old this July 31st!

We hopped with Girlie on a rollercoaster of finding (true) love, being quarantined in a foreign country, lots of internet meanies, making new friends, angst, heartbreak, depresh sesh, finding love again and so much more to come -- What a wild journey it's been, and I'm so proud I took the leap!

Looking back a year ago, I can't believe how far this story and I have come. I remember being so full of uncertainty and nerves to post that first chapter, and now, a whole year later, I'm writing little blurbs and one-shots in a whole different language to my main one.

And to celebrate this milestone with you guys, the DAN-Y/N stans out there, and as a thank you for all these 365 days of support and love to Danielito & Girlie's love story—a.k.a. my baby—, I put together a list of dialogue prompts from where you can pick one—or as many as you'd like—and send it to me so I can write a little blurb to go with it!

You can request a specific moment on the fic you'd like to see more (c'mooooon, they were together for 2 whole years! Let's see if you've been paying attention hehe), or just make a general request with a quote of your choice (or you can suggest one! Can't promise much on this, but I'd try my best to bring it to life, unless it is smut. I can't write smut for shitzels yet soz).

I'll be accepting resquests for the next 2 weeks!

✧. ┊ Series Masterlist

P.S. Fingers crossed next month I can—finally—post a new chapter! Adult life has been kicking my ass these past months so please be patient with me! — But my inbox is always open to talk! :)

— All the dialogue sources are linked!

“These are way too many, omg, I’m being squeezed by these pillows, love!” “Well I just, you know, thought that since you like to hold on to me while you sleep but we can’t do that right now, I decided to bring you all these.” “Aww, I appreciate it, baby, but would you mind moving some? And even though I do have these, I will miss your warmth beside me.” 

“You weren’t uncomfortable back there, right? I just wanted to make sure you were all right.” “No, no, I wasn’t. Thank you for doing that.”

"You had no business looking that good back there."

"Those could be our kids one day." "What...?" 

“They don’t know you, love. They don’t know how much we love each other. Let them think what they want to. It doesn’t matter, you know why? Because you are enough. We are enough.”

“I don’t want you to be perfect, sweetheart. I want you to be who you are.”

“I…I wasn’t sure if you’d like this, so I just bought all the colors they had there.”

“Stoooop. Stop making me all…” “All… what?”

“Sorry. I just... like seeing that I have an effect on you, I guess.”

“Life would suck complete testicles if it weren’t for you.” 

“I like seeing you this way. so… at ease. makes me wonder how anyone could ever purposely put you under stress and live with themselves afterwards.”

"I know you're struggling right now, and it's okay, okay? We'll get through this."

“With you, I see a forever I’ve never envisioned before. Not that I didn’t want to, it’s more because I wasn’t able to… At least until I met you.”

“God, I really don’t want to leave”.

“I’m so deftly terrified of falling in love. Because what if I end up with a broken heart? That thought itself is just so scary to me. I want to, but I can’t get over that fear.” “Then how about you let me be that first step you take into falling in love? I can help you get over that fear, if you’d let me.” 

“People say they fall in love like they fall asleep — slowly, then all at once. But the way I fell for you can only be described as that feeling when you’re drifting off to sleep, only to feel like you’re falling, oh-so-suddenly. So suddenly that it ends up startling you awake; heart racing in your chest because it feels like you fell off the precipice of a cliff. It’s quick and sudden, and there’s no slowness to it. It’s a crash and burn type of love that I feel.”

“They say the second time’s the charm.” “Was the first time not charming enough for you?” “No, but the second time’s going to be even better, I promise.” 

“If people can hate for no reason,  then I can love for no reason too.”

“I dunno who taught you that love comes with conditions and limitations, but mine doesn’t. Not when it’s you.”

“I don’t know how to ask for help i just— I’ve never had anyone to ask for help from before.  so…this is me trying i guess.  I need it and i’m afraid to ask for it.  That's the best I can do.”

“You really think a relationship should be that hard?” “No one writes songs about the ones that come easy.”

“If you don’t kiss me, right now…” “Then what?” “Then I will have to do it myself.”

"I think destiny wants us to be together, and you should never argue with destiny.”

“What do you think is our song?”

“I can’t concentrate, when you look at me like that.” “Well, you should be concentrating on me instead, so…”

“Sing for me.” “What would you like to hear?”

“I feel like I can breathe better with you around.”

“You’re much better off without me.” “You’re not the judge of that.”

“I love you, okay?! And I can’t stay in your life when I’m just ruining it.” “You can’t just say that and don’t wait for me to answer.”

“Your mom is coming over today.” “Tell her to bring fried rice or she’s not invited.” “You tell her, she’s your mom.” “But she likes you more!”

“Wait, you can’t swim?” “I was always more into sports on land where, you know, I can’t drown.” “I will teach you!”

“Every night before bed I write three good things that happened to me. And every night I find myself writing down your name.”

“God, don’t do that. You’re going to make me go on Santa’s naughty list tonight.”

“This heart belongs to you, and only you. And I’d hope you want to keep it for a very, very long time.”

“What matters isn’t the place, but the person you’re with at that place. So this is to say, being with you is enough for me. So long as you are there, then all is well.”

“If you don’t wanna spend the night in a empty house, you could always come over to mine.” 

"Hey, i think i can fit over here in this corner." "What are you, a plant?" "Maybe. you shine on me every day, after all."

“I don’t know what the future holds. all i know is that i hope you’re in it. “

“Annoying you is what I’m best at.”

“You get to curl up in my lap, and I get to watch a cinematic masterpiece in peace and quiet. i think this is a pretty sweet deal.”

“This is your home, just as it is mine.”

“That was your master plan? Really?” “No, my master plan was having no plan actually.”

“When life gives you lemons, squirt the juice into your enemies’ eyes and watch them whimper.”

“Maybe i'm too late to be your first, but right now, i'm preparing myself to be your last.”

“Over everything, I choose you.”

“You’ve given me so many memories, I'd hate it if you become one”

“I hope you heal from the things you dont wanna talk about”

“I was gonna marry her…”

“Because you always been my ticket home…”

“Have you ever gone stargazing?” “yeah, i’ve seen your eyes a few times.”

"Oh God- why are you half-naked?" "nothing you haven't seen before, love" "it's freezing, go put on a shirt-" "Nah, you can warm me up." 

“You never have to fear that you’re losing me.”

“Aw, you brought out the smile.” “Which smile?” “The one reserved for the people you love.” “How could you even tell?” “Because that’s how you smile at me.”

“No, you’re not allowed to smile at me like that.”

“This is not some predestined soulmate shit or fate or whatever. I love you all on my own. Because you’re awesome and because I want to.”

“You know, I prefer you naked, but that dress also looks breathtaking on you.”

“Believe in the me that believes in you”

“Work can wait. You need rest.”

“I got the recipe from your mom, i hope i did it justice.”

“I think i deserve a cuddle for letting you stick your icy little feet on me all night.”

“Ok…so, umm I made this playlist for our first month anniversary. I hope it’s not too bad!” “Omg, this is- I can’t believe it! I always wanted someone to make me a playlist!” 

“You already are a handful. Together, you guys are insufferable.”

“I’m right here.”

“Careful, or I will fall for you.” “You’ll be fine. I’ll buy you some knee pads.” “Knee pads but no helmet?” “If you’re falling for me, you’ve already taken a hit to the head.”

“Uh-oh.” “What’s wrong?” “That’s their ‘oh, you messed with the wrong bitch, bitch’ face.”

“You look like an idiot.” “You know, other people would say it’s nice to see me so happy. Or that I have a beautiful smile.”

“I’ve never seen you this happy before.”

“(Congrats.) You’re one of us now.”

“Please, never apologise for wanting to be loved.”

“Come on. I’ll show you how to dance”

"Are you still mad at me? I mean, it's okay if you are. I'm mad at myself, too."

"Put your head on my lap and sleep a little."

 “I don’t want to go to bed angry…can we please talk about this?” 

“Your cheeks are really soft.” “Stop squishing them!”

“You didn’t have to do anything…” “But i wanted to.”

[lestappenforever]

Hi. I feel like you are the only person I can send Lestappen asks so here goes another one.

First of all have you seen that video of Max playing footsie with Checo? I hope you have because it’s so funny to me how he realized he had accident tapped his teammate’s foot but Checo didn’t react so he did it intentionally to make sure he laughed.

Now what got me is the fact that not long ago he [Max] was playing footsie with Charles albeit unknowingly but when he realized he got all awkward about it. It’s so glaring that I started realizing other little things like the way Max will talk to Lando or Carlos or Daniel, heck everyone else on the grid about something is all so different from how he is with Charles. There’s always some sort of shyness, awkwardness, too much staring and thoughtfulness put into everything involving Charles. And yeah it may sound like I’m biased but I didn’t ship them like that for the longest time but the footsie thing made me think about all the little moments they share and how they are different from how they are with everyone else. The same can be said for Charles and how he is with Max via-à-vis other people.

Could you do a comparison, pleeease? 😘

I feel so honored, seriously.

I have seen the video with Checo, but not the one with Charles? So please send me the link because I need to see it immediately or else I will spontaneously combust.

"Could you do a comparison, pleeease?😘" <<< Oh, babe. Honey. My darling anon. You will regret this, and I am so sorry.

(Putting this under a 'Read More' for everyone's sake.)

Now, before I get further into this I just need to make a few things very clear: 1. I am a monogamous shipper, meaning that once I ship someone, I am incapable of shipping those people with someone else. I am actually kind of jealous of people who are capable of shipping the same person with multiple people because the amount of content you get, my God. Now, this does not mean that I don't get other ships or that I have any sort of issue with other ships because I definitely don't. It simply means that in my head, once two people are paired together in a ship, that's it. They're it for each other as far as my brain is concerned. 2. This post does not mean that I genuinely believe Max and Charles are in a secret relationship, nor does it mean that I genuinely believe they ever will be. The point of shipping, as far as I'm concerned, is that it's fun and lighthearted. It's something that brings a lot of joy to a lot of people, and it's something that is very easy to enjoy.

Now, prepare for a rant.

I believe you are right on the money, anon, and this is exactly why I ship Lestappen. They have the sort of vibe and chemistry between them that I just don't see them having with anyone else.

Let's start with Daniel, who is the obvious first choice: There is no denying how close he is with Max, but the feeling I get with those two is that they are two dude bros who are just so comfortable with each other and such good friends that nothing feels weird. They can joke about literally anything, no matter how inappropriate, no matter how sexual, and it's just funny. They have exactly the kind of familiarity you would see between two best friends, and they have no aversion to getting up close and personal with each other. There's no awkwardness between them whatsoever, and for that reason they just give me those frat boy vibes that I absolutely adore in a friendship. Watching them interact is hilarious at any given time.

As for Lando and Carlos, Max displays the same sort of ease that he has whenever he's interacting with Daniel, although obviously not at the same level, and more so with Lando than Carlos. Max has said it himself: Lando is literally his best friend on the grid, and they also don't seem to have any sort of aversion to physical touch: slapping each other's asses, being in each other's space, and generally displaying an easy sort of comfort you'd expect to see between really close friends. It's never awkward or weird, it's simply funny and comfortable, and it's so blatantly obvious how much they enjoy each other's company, both on and off the grid.

With Carlos, Max obviously shares the history of them being teammates at Toro Rosso, and although they weren't exactly best friends at the time (now if that isn't an understatement right there), they were both young and — like most young boys, let's be honest — stupid. Hot-headed, stubborn and arrogant, which typically doesn't lead to the best relationship in a sport that is as competitive as F1, especially not when you're in your teens. However, both Max and Carlos have grown up a lot since then, and now they seem to have developed a genuine friendship based on mutual respect and a history long since passed, and they seem comfortable around each other. Like with Daniel and Lando, there doesn't seem to be any awkwardness or underlying current of something tied to their interactions.

Now, with Charles, it's just different. And not just for Max, because Charles seems to have a very specific way of behaving around Max that I just haven't seen when he's around Lando, Carlos, Pierre, or anyone else on the grid. There are so many interactions in which both Charles and Max just seem giddy whenever they're around each other — you know, the kind of giddy you get when you're talking to somebody you have a crush on and you're not quite sure how to deal with it? Take this moment here in Bahrain 2022, for example. The quick looks, the smiles. If that isn't how you look at your fucking crush, then I don't know what is. Or this moment, with Charles rubbing at the back of his neck and looking all bashful after interacting with Max. Like, sir, what the fuck?

Whenever they interact, they don't display that same kind of comfort that they do with others, especially the other drivers already mentioned, but does this stop them from interacting? No. Does it deter them from seeking each other out practically every chance they get? Absolutely not. In fact, they seem to gravitate towards each other most of the time just like their hands always seem to gravitate towards each other's waists as soon as they're within touching distance for photos, and how other people briefly cease to exist once the two of them are engaged in conversation. Hell, I refer to Checo as Du-du-du-du-du-du-du Steve (Checo) and Third wheel Checo in my tags for a reason. (The things poor Checo has been forced to put up with when it comes to these two, including this cooldown room earlier this year.)

Oh, and did I mention Max literally interrupting Charles mid-interview in Bahrain at the beginning of the 2022 season, and Charles seemingly completely forgetting that he was being interviewed and keeping the conversation going, despite the fact that it's rude as fuck? Christ, how anyone puts up with them at this point is actually incredible.

There are also the numerous moments of intense eye contact while they're mid-conversation, the way Charles will remember the tiniest mention of Max from his engineer during a race and then bring it up, and Max fucking lighting up like a Christmas tree when he gets the chance to talk to Charles about it, and the way Charles is licking his lips before he realizes he's being recorded by Max. And anon, don't even get me started on their obsession with holding each other's waists as if that is a totally normal thing to be obsessed about with your emotional support rival. (Don't mind us, just gonna stand here and hold each other's waist while waiting for the others.)

Look, I am the absolute worst at keeping track of gifs and videos, which is probably for the best because if I was better at it, this would turn into a goddamned thesis, but there are just an endless supply of moments between Max and Charles where the vibe is just so far from being like the vibe either of them seem to have with any other driver on the grid. There is an underlying weirdness/awkwardness/shyness between the two of them that just screams "teenagers with a crush" for me, and that's why it's so easy for me to ship them. (And why it's impossible for me to ship either of them with someone else.)

[whiterosechrista]

Vent time!

Hey all.

So, I know I said in my first post that I’m not comfortable with heavy/political topics, but I really need to vent.

I sent a friend the link to the YouTube video for that Palestine bundle. She wasn’t the only one I sent it to, but she was the first to respond;

“Sorry, I stand with Israel but seems like a good deal otherwise.”

So of course I was like “with all due respect, why are you supporting GENODICE?” and she said it was because she;

“[stood] with anyone whose agenda was eradicating terrorism.”

Me, not knowing the full details of the Palestine situation, but knowing enough to know that didn’t sound right, said;

“So innocent Palestinians are terrorists then? People who’ve lost their homes, their family, their lives? For no reason other than Israel not liking them?”

“No the terrorist group Hamas.”

Before I could think of an adequate comeback, she continued;

“Who pillaged, massacred, raped, and reaked havoc onto Israeli citizens on october 7th with full intentions to cause harm and destruction to the Jewish race.”

Me, having not heard about that, was startled long enough for her to send one last message;

“And my heart goes out to all citizens of any country who gets caught in acts of war, but they were warned beforehand when Israel bombed those places. Who even does that in a war?? A country and government who actually cares about its citizens and their enemy’s citizens. They only bombed those places to reach the underground bunkers and tunnels that Hamas was and still is using to hold weapons of mass destruction which would be used on thousands of Israeli citizens with the sole goal to kill Jews.”

…

Yeah. She justified a bombing.

It took me a while to come up with a decent response to that, and I’m not even sure it’s the most appropriate one, but my feelings were scrambled and I wasn’t quite sure how to convince my friend (who’s only 16 by the way) that terrorism doesn’t justify bombing a place with innocent people, but I tried;

“I’m not defending Hamas at all, they can go to whatever hell they believe in. What I’m saying is that they’re not the only ones doing that. There’s many sides to every war, and if Israel had never started bulldozing, massacring, and invading Palestine, the chances are so much lower that Hamas would’ve ever done those things. I’m not gonna force you to believe me. I’m just gonna end with: the bundle is supporting the CHILDREN of Palestine. Not Hamas. Nowhere near Hamas. It’s supporting the children who never should have to go through the things they did, who are hurting and starving because some adults believe it’s okay to go to war.”

She hasn’t replied. Her notifications are silenced. I don’t know what to do.

Her family is pretty heavily Jewish, the kind that teaches their kids Israel’s in the right (at least on her dad’s side, and that’s who she stays with mostly, which is a problem ‘cause he’s not a good dude and shouldn’t have custody of her, but her mom has mental/neurological issues, so he used that in court (I think, I was only 11 at the time)), and I’m now worried that she’s going to get dragged into things that’ll seriously hurt her.

Mom warned me against having this debate with her again until she’s older and more independent, since living with her dad’s made her sheltered + naive and she’s not old enough to deal with the idea that her family’s been telling lies her whole life.

She’s right, of course, but I’m just so worried now. I don’t want my awesome friend to be brainwashed by this bullshit propaganda. I don’t want her to stop talking to me because she thinks I’m supporting terrorism or something. I want her to form her own opinions and live her youth freely without her closest family shoving lies down her throat.

She and her mom stayed with my family when the whole custody battle happened, and our moms have been friends since, which is how I got back in touch with her a year or two ago. As such, I feel almost a sisterly responsibility as the older one to make sure she’s doing okay/staying safe/etc.

Just.

Argh.

Why is life like this?

Why do people support genocide and try to get their kids supporting it too?

What do they think that results in? Aside from a whole generation of kids who’ll grow up and realize their parents were liars, not to be trusted?

I don’t get it. I don’t want to get it. I just want all my friends to be safe and happy. Is that too much to ask?

[gabessquishytum]

Absolutely stupid idea, but I saw a tumblr post about a jester and couldn't help but think of Warprize Hob making a joke in front of the entire court that Dream is impotent bc he hasn't knocked him up yet and while the entire court laughs and laughs, Dream seethes. So he sets out to prove his little prize wrong and bans anyone from touching Hob until he knocks him up

-🤜 anon

I know exactly which post you're talking about, I'll find it later and link it the comments for those who haven't seen it yet 😂😂

I absolutely love this concept, completely unironically. Cheeky sarcastic Hob is one of my favourite things to write and I just LOVE the idea of him taking the joke a little too far... so of course Dream has to do something about it.

In theory Hob is capable of getting pregnant, but although he hasn't been actively trying to stop it from happening, it just hasn't. Yet. He's not super young any more and it's not like he's been trying to get pregnant. All that changes, though. After that one little joke, Dream suddenly gets very interested in Hob’s fertility.

He sends Hob to several royal doctors who all pronounce that he's still viable to get pregnant. Dream instructs that Hob should be provided with supplements and herbs that might increase his likelihood of conception. With the help of the doctors, he also starts tracking Hob’s cycle. Before he knows it, Hob is being bent over three times each day and having his cunt filled up with Dream’s cum. Dream used to fuck his mouth and arse too, but now he's hyperfocused on his pussy. He wants as much of his cum in there as possible.

And all this would be very tiresome for Hob, but... he's into it. Very very into it. He loves that Dream is so focused on putting a baby in him. He spends all night beside Dream, rubbing his own belly and hoping that this will be the night, this will be the time that they make a baby.

And just as Hob is starting to get worried that he won't conceive, and then maybe Dream will get tired of him... he starts feeling some telltale symptoms. The doctors wait a little while before telling Dream for sure, but soon it's unmistakable: his favourite little warprize is pregnant!

As soon as Hob starts showing, he's pretty much paraded in front of the whole court while Dream watches smugly. Now no will ever joke about his ability to sire a child again. But when he's not flaunting his potency to the entire kingdom, Dream really is a doting baby-daddy. Hob has the best food, servants waiting on him 24/7, and he has almost all of Dream’s attention. Anything that he wants, he gets. Including plenty of fucking (especially in his other holes, he really missed it when Dream was so zoned in on his cunt). Hob could literally get away with murder at this point, all he'd have to do is flutter his eyelashes and stick out his belly.

Is Dream developing feelings for his sassy little warprize? Maybe. But Hob can't deny that he's absolutely obsessed with his king (and carrying his baby). He's going to make sure that Dream gets him pregnant over and over - no matter how many jokes he has to tell to get there.

[justafairytailofinnocence]

Modern Thranduil x anxious reader

Caged birds with broken wings

Chapter 1:

A Dance with tardiness

Synopsis: An antisocial, anxious writer in her early 20s attends a ballet class under the teachings of a mysterious, reserved, austere dance instructor. They form an unlikely within their solace and past.

Warnings: mentions of blood

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

A/n: This fanfic doesn't follow along the lines of the hobbit but rather a loosely spin-off au that only uses some characters. I do not own the right to them as they are Tolkien's characters and I respect his creation. (even if the characters might be ooc). Feel free to comment, reblog and like. Let me know if you'd like a chapter 2.

I tended to daydream often, more so when I listened to the music. The tune and tone of the song that played one after the other sent me to the realms I immersed; typically, anyone would daydream into another realm far better than their own: a princess, pirate, elf, fae—anything. My imagination is my realm of comfort, a sealed bubble that I can freely roam however I wish. Unfortunately, within fantasy, we must face reality. Within my reality, I’m not much of an importance, at least not one to have a whole written memoir about. I’m more of one of those faces you’d pass by in the street or grocery store, not giving any second thought to. Though I’d prefer it that way, I’m not much of a talker but rather a writer; I’m more fluent in my words than my speaking. Every attempt I’ve made, I’ve stumbled or become still; my chest would rise heavily and lower deeply. I always asked how people can do it, how they can speak—talk—communicate like it’s a piece of cake. I’d rather shroud myself in my isolation than speak to another living being.

At my desk, in my somewhat clean apartment, I was planning my next latest story in a saga of 3 books. So far, I’ve managed to get in contact with a publishing company via email who were willing to get behind the idea of a feature-length young-adult romance novel, a romance novel about a pirate king and a fae queen. The first chapter was still relatively underdeveloped, yet I’m willing to spend an entire day finishing it. I had only five months to publish the entire chapters. I’ve been a fantasy fan ever since I was a child. To me, fantasy is what the word impossible turned into possible. For ten years, I’ve been writing, and never once has it stripped me of what I truly adore.  

Whilst my fingers pressed against the keys on my keyboard, I received a text message on my phone from the side of my desk surrounded by papers. It was from my mom, who was wondering about my well-being. As always, I respond with the usual ‘everything’s going well—I’m pumping out new chapters for my new novel, ‘A Puncture in Time’, you know—the one with pirates and fantasy, new chapters soon to come ;)’. Even though she’s smart enough to see through my little façade, she writes back, ‘Hey listen, I know it’s hard right now, but I can assure you, things will get better; it just takes practice; I know you’ll meet someone you’ll find it easy to talk to’. I sighed heavily; within her words, I have faith, yet doubt. Should I choose to believe her, bite the bullet and try to speak up or wallow in a lie that can send her mind at ease? Before I wrote back, she sent a post with a link. I furrowed my brows as curiosity swelled my thoughts, my finger tapped the link. It was an ad. An ad for ballet classes. I thought it odd why she would send me something like this: I’m no dancer; I’m certainly no ballerina.

I replied with a question mark ‘?’.

A message bubble popped up: ‘…’ I awaited her reply.

As she was still typing, I took the liberty of glancing through the ad quickly. The tab loaded with a cursive font in bold ‘Les danseuses se réjouissent’. Scrolling past the stock images of ballet dancers, I came across a small section of different levels offered: beginner, Intermediate, and advanced. My mind raced with doubt; I had no experience in ballet, at least not since I was a young child. I wondered to myself, ‘Do I really want to take this? After all, I’m not exactly one for groups’. However, my mind was put at ease when my eyes came across an option for ‘one-on-one private lessons’. At least, I wouldn’t be with people who were far more experienced—let alone a group; the thought of many eyes staring at me—would have my heart sink. As I clicked the option, I was astounded; there were no reviews, pictures, or even a description of the instructor. I was sceptical. Surely, if you were to teach a class, you’d have at least a brief introduction of yourself. Even as an author, I have a concise introduction in my publications. I lightly sighed, weighing my options; on the one hand, it’ll please my mom, get me out of the apartment, and keep me fit; on the other hand, despite being private, I’m meeting someone I don’t know. Who knows what this person’s intention is, even if it’s for a class.

Finally, I heard a ‘ding’ as she replied, ‘Please try, at least for me; it’ll be good for your health, and you once mentioned you wanted to be a ballerina. I know the world isn’t always what we want it to be, but I know you can make it shine; I’ve seen it in your novels; give this a chance, give them a chance, to show them how you can shine, because I know you’ll be the brightest star there :).’

My eyes softened as I read every word; I couldn’t deny she had a way of getting through to me. She was always a caring woman, along with my dad. They were the only two people I could speak to without pressure or the weight in my chest.

I pressed back onto the tab with the private lessons. I clicked to see the booking dates—there’s an option to book for tomorrow, and the price is only $45 per lesson. For the price, it wasn’t too bad; yet still expensive. I filled in the details required to send the booking through, yet my finger hovered as I was about to press ‘confirm’. My mind came to a tussle of thoughts and hesitations; this would be the first time, in a long time, that I would speak face-to-face with an actual living being. However, I recalled Mom's words, ‘Because I know you’ll be the brightest star there’.

Breathing in—I pushed it, I pressed confirm.

I did it. I’m going to attend a ballet class. My head slowly lowers onto my desk, surrounded by papers. My hair dangled over my forehead. The adrenaline that reached the height of my mentality came crashing down. It’s like going on a rollercoaster you didn’t ask for, coming from the highest point of the rail down to the pit below. I start to feel light-headed. I want to sleep. I want to stay here. Perhaps I’ve made a mistake. What if this doesn’t work out?

I rose slowly from my desk chair, picked up my phone, and texted, ‘I’ve booked lessons for tomorrow…I hope you're right about this.’

I watched as once more, awaiting her response, ‘…’

‘Oh, I’m so happy, you’ll fit right in, I know it :)’ she texted.

I didn’t respond. She’s pleased, at least.

I decided to call it a night; I’ve had enough pressure for one day. I logged off, cleaned the papers on my desk, pushed them into a neat-ish pile and headed to the bathroom to shower. As I opened the door, I went inside to set down my pyjamas by the medium-small bathtub’s acrylic side rim. My bathroom isn’t big exactly, but neither is it small. It’s moderate for what it was: a bathtub, shower, toilet, sink, and a medium-sized mirror in the same room. It’s not precisely palace material, but it helps soothe my thoughts. I held my hand out as I turned on the shower, feeling the trickling water against my skin. The temperature quickly changed from cold to warm in just five seconds. Once I was satisfied, I stripped bare, sliding my long-sleeved green shirt off and sliding my darker tracksuit pants. I tossed my unmentionables inside the bathtub. I stepped inside the shower, allowing the warm water to run freely down my skin. I shut the shower enough to have a slit entrance still. I grabbed the soap, rubbing it over my skin, arms, legs, and body. I splashed water on my face as the water rinsed the suds away. I hovered my hands in my eyesight, glancing closer at my fingers. I could see the redness and patches from where I’d picked my skin; it’s a habit I developed since childhood. The habit would annoy Mom, often whispering or saying straight, “Stop picking”, even touching my hand to remind me. Unfortunately, this habit hasn’t subsided; I sometimes even look at my skin with little care, picking the cuticles or rough patches.

Once I finished scrubbing my body with soap, I turned off the water and opened the shower door to step onto the bathmat. I grabbed a towel from the single towel rack located beside the shower. I dried my body, running the towel over my skin. As I wrapped the towel around my body, I glanced at my face in the mirror above the sink. They say eyes are the most expressive in emotion. My narrowed, pinkish lips thinned.

I snapped out of my gaze, continuing to slip on my long blue pants decorated in owl prints, then, the next, a long-sleeve top with the basic purple on them topped with a giant owl embroidered in the front area. Owls have always resonated with me, whether it's their symbolism or captivating beauty. I placed the towel on the side of the bathtub’s rim. I picked up my previous clothes and took it into my bedroom. My bedroom was also medium sized, having a queen-sized bed and an oaken cupboard with a mirrored wardrobe. My room was decorated with tiny figurines I’d collect overtime, albeit from movies I’ve fancied or books. I placed the clothes in my hamper basket behind my door. My body relaxed when my eyes lingered toward my bed, the messy, deep blue sheets draped to the left side. I dismissed the thought of tucking them in for the time being, only plonking myself onto the mattress and wrapping myself within the single cotton sheets and doona drifting off.

Dreaming is the easy part, letting what visions came to my mind run wild. Sometimes, it’s suitable for inspiration, but other times, it's nightmares. The imagination is still enchanting, although, this time, it was peculiar. I was in a birdcage decorated with gold; the entrance was bolted shut; my hands gripped the golden rods holding the cage together. I tried to scream but to no avail. I tried to shake the cage, yet I was too small to provoke movement. My body lowered, feeling the coldness of the metal plate below. I had nothing but rosy ribbon pointe shoes. I suddenly felt myself, in no control, rise as though my limbs were attached to strings. I started to dance, my arms and legs stretching to fit the perfect movements. Eventually, I stopped mid-movement, standing on one leg while extending the other behind. I couldn’t move; I was frozen in place. I could do nothing but shut my eyes.

Suddenly, I woke up; my eyes fluttered open from the confusion I had just endured. Rising from the bed, I pondered for a few seconds. ‘What on earth did I dream about?’. My hands pressed against my face, trying to comprehend my dream and reality. I pulled the sheets off me and got up for the morning. A typical morning for me results in the usual routine: dressing, brushing my teeth and hair, and then looking forward to what the day offers me. Until I remembered that I had booked that class. I typically picked out green tracksuit pants with a white singlet, hoping that would suffice. I picked up my purse and headed out the door to my car. I entered inside, placing my purse in the front seat as I turned on the white car. I noticed outside that it started to snow. Snow is beautiful, especially the little snowflakes that fall into your hand and dissolve upon touch.

As the car started, I prepared to drive to wherever it was that awaited me. The location was further from where I lived; it must’ve been at least twenty-eight minutes. The drive wasn’t particularly bothersome for me; when you live in New York, you get used to the traffic.

As I drove, the snowflakes emerged in more significant numbers. Eventually, I found parking just next to the side of a café. I wasn’t aware if it was for the staff or guests. However, it seemed empty with only a few cars, so—if I get called out on it, I’ll move my car. No one seemed to notice, so I assumed I was okay. I grabbed my black parker from the back and zipped it up. Exiting the car, I stopped to admire the snow falling for a few seconds. It was January 4th, so the snow season was still here. My hands shoved in my pockets, beginning to wander toward where I needed to be. According to the ad, it was building ‘52’; it was vague, I know, but it was the details given. I trudged through the snow, seeing building after building, until I came across something with the number ‘52’, where I needed to be. My hand gripped the gold-looking handle attached to the glass door. As I entered, I came upon a staircase; I took one step after the other. I quickly glanced at the ad to see what floor it was on, yet to no avail. Was it the ‘4th floor? Oh god, oh god, please don’t resort to me asking someone. My fingers started to twitch; I raised one of my fingertips to my lips, feeling the rough patches. My thumb started scraping off the first layer, and small blood trickles formed. I ran my fingers over my lips again as I trailed up the stairs. I could feel my chest becoming heavier, my mind swell with thoughts of self-doubt. Suddenly, the anxiety soon started to subside as my eyes saw the sight of a door. My fingers hesitantly wrapped around the door handle; I took one breath in, trying to be brave. I pushed it open—only for my worst nightmare to come to life.

My breathing became heavier, my heart sank, my eyelids widened, and I could feel myself hyperventilating. There was a group of ballerinas staring directly at me. There must’ve been at least four? Five? Looking my way! Their ages varied, going into their late 20s.

The one brunette asked in French “es-tu perdu, cherches quelqu’un”.

I couldn’t concentrate; my mind dwelled with clouded thoughts of judgment. I pressed my finger against my lip, trying to feel the rough patches.

Another asked in English, “My friend asked if you’re searching for someone”.

Quickly, my eyes diverted to the ground, avoiding their gaze. “I-I-, pr-viate, less-on”. I stumbled over my words.

“Lessons? Private lessons?” the girl spoke once more.

I nodded, avoiding eye contact.

As I quickly glanced, a middle-aged woman in her mid-forties stepped closer; I assumed she was the dance teacher. “Are you referring to the private dance lessons advertised? the one taught by Mr. Oropherion?”.

I paused for a moment, trying to gather my words. Mr Oropherion? Is he the teacher I’m with?

“I-Is. This. Right. Floor.” I tried to sound out the right words, but it was impossible. Perhaps my conscience was right; perhaps this was a terrible idea.

The middle-aged woman, confused, pointed toward the direction I needed to go. “you’ll need to head up one more level, then head to your right” Her voice was calm with a hint of soprano.

Still avoiding eye contact, I left, not even saying thank you, focusing on wanting to escape. I closed the door in front and let out a heavy breath. My head lowered to touch the tip of my hands. I wanted to melt in that moment; I wanted nothing more than to return home. However, I reminded myself that I was doing this for Mom. I breathed in once more, looking up at the door; my hands quickly released, and I began to walk quickly, edging further up the stairs. My mind came crashing down, feeling the dreariness wash over me. Feeling tired, I finally, at last, came across the door I needed to be. It was blank, the painted white withering away around the edges. My hand reached the doorknob, feeling the roundness, turning it slightly. I could feel the adrenaline kick in. I was hesitant, but my nerves started to build.

I started to whisper to myself, “Just a general hello, that’s all it takes—

You're doing this for Mom—

Give them a chance to show them how I can shine; give them a chance to see who I am because I’ll be the brightest star there”.

 I breathed in, closing my eyes and opening the door. As I tried to force my eyes open, I was confused. There was no one here. It was an empty space surrounded by mirrors with bar beams attached to them. My eyes scanned the room, yet no one was there. I suppose I should be relieved, maybe the teacher had caught a sickness and decided to ditch the whole class. I wandered further inside; I might as well take a quick peek. I unzipped my black parker with a furry hood, tossed it on the coat hanger and took off my shoes, leaving my white socks on. I stood in the middle of the dance room, embracing the quiet ambience. I looked in the mirrors, reflecting my figure. Was this even what ballerinas wear? Who even is Mr. Oropherion? If he doesn’t show up in the next 15 minutes, I’m heading off and not returning.

Perhaps Aelwynn, the fae queen in my novel, would’ve also been able to dance freely and eloquently in movement. I still wonder what would entrance the pirate king Sarek Salazar. I never pictured him to be devilishly handsome, though. I suppose Aelwynn would be a beauty, but there must be more to it—beauty can only go so far in their bond; what would their obstacles or hardships be? Perhaps the fae queen is somewhat intertwined with difference, the opposite of a fairytale. Aelwynn is fair, kind, beautiful and strong; she meets all the criteria for something otherworldly, yet what if Sarek is her opposite, a beast? No—What if he was average, a gross-looking thing? Pirates are anyway; what if he wasn’t powerful, just an average man with greed—and the dynamic changes, challenging Sarek to choose between the love of his life or treasure?

Or he would choose—

Suddenly, I heard a male voice emit behind me: “You best have a thorough explanation, girl. Do not even think about squandering my precious time.”

My breathing became heavier as I realized someone was speaking to me. I did not turn around; I was afraid to. Instead, I avoided eye contact, too paralysed to move. My head stooped low, and my hands stood to the side. He spoke again, “Clearly, you are here for a reason, are you not? I’ll admit your intrusion is rather fatuous.”

I didn’t glance up; I couldn’t look; I needed time to gather the words to explain. What should I say? Hey, sir, some ballerinas told me to come here, and I fear speaking to people.

“I see you have a mouth; that means you must have a tongue. Go on, speak.” His voice was deep and tranquil, composed yet icy.

I took a deep breath in, slowly turning around. As my legs moved, I slowly gathered the courage to look into the man’s eyes, even if I muttered a ‘hello’. It would be enough. As my head glanced up to meet his, I noticed his appearance.

He—was like—something out of a fairytale. His face was lean and chiselled; his eyes were like ice; his blueish-greyish irises complemented his cold gaze. His hair tressed down like water reaching his chest, light like snow. Whilst his skin was pale in comparison, a fair tone in colour. His attire seemed far more affluent than mine, donning a black trench coat with white underneath. His trousers complimented the darkness of his coat, and his black loafers were polished. I glanced at his right finger, an oval-shaped ring with a diamond glass stone crafted in sterling silver.

“Did you hear me not the first-time girl?” his tone turned stern.

My mouth moved, finally finding the words to speak. “H-hello, I’m Y/n”.

 “y/n?” he muttered.

My eyes glanced downward once more as I slowly nodded.

“So, you have a voice after all, pray, tell. Why are you lingering in my domain?” he said shortly.

I muttered “private lessons”, though my voice sounded like a whisper.

“Ah, so you’ve seen the ad; I suppose you haven’t wasted our time after all, although you are five minutes late; I expect punctuality, to be exactly on time at the hour.” His voice sounded stern once more.

Well gee, it’s not like it’s my first time here, and gotten lost. My eyes still avoided his; I couldn’t look up, so I nodded.

He didn't react when I avoided his gaze, dismissing it. However, he commented on something else: “Your posture is lamentable. Stand up straighter like so.” The tip of his finger lightly touched my chin, lifting it to meet his gaze. I didn’t turn away precisely, yet I still flinched. My breathing slowed down as I once more met his gaze. His eyes narrowed, and his lips thinned.

“You stand there like a bird, wounded by the natures of evil, ignorant of the world’s knowledge, caged and sheltered from the shadows that lurk within the realm. Tell me, little bird, care to spread your wings?” I glanced at myself in the mirror, standing straighter. I could feel the flush in my cheeks, but I didn’t say anything, only breathing slowly.

 His finger pulled away, and he turned his back to me, walking away.

“I expect to see you here tomorrow at exactly the seventh hour of the night”.

“Do not make me regret my decision, or you shall return to the cage from where you came, little bird”, He muttered.

With that, he walked out of the room, distancing himself further and further away. At that moment, I stood in disbelief for a few seconds, trying to understand what had happened. However, once my thoughts were collected, I gathered my things and scurried out of there, wanting nothing more than to enter my car. Once I exited the building, I was hit with the coldness in temperature as it touched my face.

I opened the car door, tossing my things in the back, turning the engine on. I looked back, trying to see the building to the left. As I drove, my thoughts were plagued with astonishment. I didn’t look away; I maintained eye contact for longer than three seconds, and—I managed to speak my name without stumbling over my words. My emotions displayed were as if I’d seen a ghost. Yet—his face—his appearance—it reminded me of snow; I always loved snow; even when I was a child, it was the happiest of my memories. I recall when my parents took me to the park; I was fascinated by the sight of the winter wonderland, my face lighting up with delight and laughing with joy. I always find that snow rekindles the fond memories I have.

Perhaps Mom was right after all; this might be the start of something I’ve never been able to do. Talk.

[xxlemon-chanxx]

Is it not stalking to sneak your way into someone's private discord server to dig up dirt against them when all they were doing was venting to their friends? I'm confused! You both seem a bit yikes to me ngl. Am I missing something?

So, from what Griff/Horse had said about the doc, I can understand how it might come across as Griff only talking bad about Magpie in private. I can assure you, that is not the case. The doc has all sorts of slides that depict this, but I’m going to show you some of them right now

Not to mention, the entire reason I was introduced to this drama in the first place was because Griff approached ME about the drama. That’s also in the document pinned on my blog if you want to see that. They listed a bunch of accusations about Magpie, and I didn’t feel comfortable taking those claims at face value without some kind of evidence backing it up, so I looked into them and three weeks later I publish a PDF listing all of the evidence I was given. If Griff hadn’t approached me that day, I probably wouldn’t know who they were.

I think another misconception is that I snuck into a private discord to get screenshots, and I have two things to say about this:

1. I don’t use any ALTs other than my Wittebrainrot blog that promotes the server I run, and I usually don’t ever use it unless we’re doing an event—like the holiday collection we did for Christmas. I don’t do Anon asks, I don’t like using ALTs, if I want to talk to someone privately I’ll DM them and try to have a conversation there. I like being blunt and direct when I talk to people. I also don’t have any ALTs for any social media and try to stick with the name “lemonchan” or some variation of it. I was never in Horse’s server(s) personally. All of the screenshots that show the discord chats came from other people

2. It wasn’t a private discord. It was public to anyone with a link, and Griff gave those links out to people who would ask for them. The “moles” were people who had been in the servers for weeks or months before I came along, and they had started documenting whenever Horse would slander Magpie because they either

a. Were originally on Griff’s side but had grown tired of seeing the pattern of hate and were only sticking around to see what would come next.

Or b. Had joined the server because they already heard what Griff had been saying and wanted to document that.

In either case, I didn’t directly cause any new “moles” to enter griff’s server, they were already there.

And, just so this is on record, Griff has had people spy on other servers before, and I do have screenshots of that as well.

Im not going to sit here and be like “BAH! HAVING INFORMANTS IN SERVERS IS BAD!” Because that would be hypocritical of me. I do think that having people that are able to tell you what’s happening in places you can’t be is useful. I also think it’s very funny that Griff freaked out when they learned that there were people sympathetic to Magpie in their server who were sending me screenshots, because they have a track record of doing the same thing.

[good-beanswrites]

So. It turns out I can't read. Have a random drabble of Mikoto + Tears because I misread one of the requests asdfds (featuring the smoking group :)) I thought of some juicy drama, but I'll admit his situation may not be as dramatic as this lol, just a thought about his emotions I was toying around with.

It had taken a bit of time, persuading, and bribery, but Mikoto reluctantly showed up to the smoking group’s next session. He looked like shit compared to them, but neither seemed to care.

Though he tried to refuse, they’d given him refills for his e-cigarette so he could participate. Shidou claimed he was quitting, but he didn’t strike Mikoto as the type to stop cold turkey. He stayed quiet most of the time, listening to the usual stories of days gone by.

Shidou asked about Kazui’s recent interrogation. Mikoto would have rather spoken about literally anything besides their situation as prisoners and murderers, but Kazui’s unlikely honesty caught his attention. The man admitted to getting rather worked up in front of Es, nearly to the point of tears.

Rather than offer any sort of comfort, Shidou chose to list off the benefits of crying in response. 

“It actually releases stress hormones,” he was saying, “and has been linked to better sleep, improved immune systems, and balance within your nervous system.”

Mikoto shared a smirk with Kazui, the cigarette angling between his lips. He wasn’t as quick as he thought.

“And what is that face for?” Shidou turned to him. “I do hope you’re not one of those types who think men shouldn’t cry. I’m sure you have plenty of times. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Mikoto was going to drop it; he wasn’t one of those people, after all. Unexpected thoughts struck him before he could dismiss the accusations. The rapid emotions that flashed over his face had the others waiting for his reply.

“Actually… uh…” He let out a nervous laugh. “I just realized, I haven’t. You know, h-” Mikoto’s voice faltered. It felt strange, speaking about the situation so casually. But he could trust these men. They’d never turned against him, or flinched away from him, even when the others had. Regardless, he was going to have to acknowledge it eventually.

“...He’s the one that gets to cry.”

The others stayed silent. Kazui took another drag. It wasn’t like it was a secret anymore, but he was sure that neither had come prepared for a conversation like this. Wisps of smoke slowly circled them.

"Whenever I got upset, he was there. If anything brought me to tears, then he… took care of it.” Not that Mikoto ever knew it was happening. In hindsight, it was maddeningly obvious how his blackouts corresponded to rough times. 

His breath shook the next time he inhaled. He took a pause. He had to stay calm. The line had been thin, these days, for when emotions would prove intense enough to send him over the edge. With all the underlying stress, even the most minor inconveniences could cause him to lose control.

The vapor he blew out left a trembly trail in front of him. He tried to sound lighthearted, but knew he wasn’t fooling anyone.

“I guess I always thought I was one of those guys who didn’t cry as much, or got less worked up about things. My coworkers always talked about breakdowns. I never had a single one. I didn’t really dwell on it. Why would I?” His smile was as wobbly as the laugh that bubbled out of him. “So, uh… I guess you were wrong, Shidou. I can’t remember the last time I shed a single tear.”

It didn’t take a doctor to know the kind of toll that takes on someone. 

Mikoto dropped his head, suddenly ashamed of his honesty. He must have sounded completely insane. He ran a hand through his hair. They were probably looking on with horror at what a mess he’d revealed himself to be. 

“I should go,” he muttered. He was already pretty upset and couldn’t risk hurting anyone else.

Shidou placed his hand gently on his arm. He didn’t look horrified in the slightest. Neither did Kazui. “Wait...”

He shrugged his arm away. “Leave me alone.”

“Mikoto.”

He paused only a moment in the entryway, as Kazui called to him.

“Thanks. I know it's not easy to talk about your true self.”

He wanted to accept it. He wanted to stay and keep talking and laughing as if nothing were wrong. He wanted to thank them for their kindness. But he couldn’t allow himself the luxury, now. “Whatever. It’s not like it matters.”

“It does.” Shidou told him. “Mikoto, I know things have been difficult. We just want to help you.”

“Yeah,” he said bitterly. The smoke shifted in his wake. “That’s what he said, too.”

[camels-pen]

a gift (not a burden)

Ao3 Link | Chapter 1 | Chapter 3

Chapter 2: Stay with me to the end

Alabasta came and went. It felt like they’d been there months, though it was nowhere near that long. Vivi and Carue stayed behind, a predictable if saddening outcome. Robin, a scary woman that could snap Usopp’s neck in his sleep, was allowed to join with hardly a thought as was typical with this crew. 

And, worst of all, now that the danger had passed and Vivi’s country was saved, they were left with plenty of down time as they sailed to the next island. 

Plenty of time for all those pesky feelings and thoughts to rear their ugly heads from the depths that Usopp shoved them in. Plenty of time for Sanji to—

Usopp frantically shook his head.

No—No, it was fine. Great, even! He needed the rest from all these dangerous adventures; they were terrible for his heart. That’s why he finished his breakfast in a flash and took over morning watch, afterall. He needed time to himself, away from the crazy monsters on the ship. He wasn’t running from anyone in particular, no, he just needed to… regroup! Yes, that was it. Usopp just needed to regroup. Refocus his strategy. Re-establish his plan.

Usopp stared at the empty notebook in his hand. A seagull cried in the distance.

Okay, so he never did have a plan for this, but how was he supposed to know that Sanji would ever find out?! Usopp had a system! A perfect system! A (mostly) Luffy-proof system!

And it was ruined! All because Sanji had to have magical fingers that made Usopp putty in his hands.

If Usopp weren’t avoiding—er, regrouping, he would give Sanji a piece of his mind for ruining his system. Stupid, beautiful, kindhearted Sanji. Always ruining his carefully concocted plans.

He pressed a hand to his chest, drawing circles in his overalls.

Stupid Sanji.

A cleared throat made Usopp jump, nearly sending his notebook flying out of the crow’s nest.

“Cook’s being insufferable,” Zoro said, taking a seat with his arms behind his head. 

“R-Really?” Usopp laughed, the sound strained. “Well, you’re more than welcome to hide up here with me! Ah, not that I’m hiding. Why would I be hiding? I’ve got nothing to hide, Zoro, what are you talking about? Ha ha ha.”

Zoro gave a deadpan stare. “Like peas in a pod.”

“Hey—”

He settled back against the mast, closing his eyes. “You two just need to talk about your soulmarks and you’ll be fine. ‘Course he’s too busy twisting himself in knots worrying about something new every five minutes.”

Usopp had a moment to feel surprised—to feel utterly shocked at the fact that Sanji was acting like Usopp himself usually did—before shouting, “Wait, did he tell—?!”

“Anyone with common sense could figure it out. Cook just doesn’t have any.”

Usopp sat back, breathing a big sigh of relief. He would’ve rather Zoro didn’t notice—nor anyone else, for that matter—but as long as Sanji stayed ignorant…

Ah, but that ship had sailed, hadn’t it?

Usopp slumped back against the wall. “The whole reason he’s being ‘insufferable’ is because he saw my mark.” He laughed, the sound a bitter, shaky thing. “I’m pretty sure he’d kill me if I tried to talk to him about how his precious woman-loving self was stuck with a man for a life partner.” His hands grabbed a fistful of his pants. “And even if he could get over being soulmates with a man, he’d still have to accept being stuck with someone like me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Usopp’s hands tightened their grip. “Usopp, you’ve got it twisted. You’re too good for him, not the other way around.”

“You’re just saying that because you don’t like him.”

“Usopp.”

“It’s true!” He dragged his bandana down over his eyes and whined. “He’s probably kicking holes in the wall just thinking about it and I’m gonna be next!” Oh, how Usopp yearned for Sanji to get knocked out so hard that he forgot everything that happened a couple weeks ago. It wasn’t likely to happen before Usopp got murdered in the near future, but a man can dream.

“Then how about this: if you talk to him and he tries to kick you,”—Zoro flicked part of his sword out of its sheath—“I’ll kill him.”

Usopp slowly put his head in his hands. “Thanks, Zoro. That is so very helpful.”

“I mean it.”

“Yes, yes, you’re always willing to try and kill Sanji.”

“No, I mean,”—Usopp looked up, catching Zoro’s steady gaze—“you need to talk to him.”

A lie sat on the tip of his tongue. Easy and automatic. It was so very tempting, to complain of never before seen illnesses and fantastical wonders. Obstacles so bizarre and impossible to overcome that Zoro would have to let Usopp run away from it all as much as he’d like.

It was right there. Waiting for him.

Zoro still stared.

Usopp sighed, hanging his head. 

—

He didn’t have the time to dwell on it, what with saving Vivi’s country, saying farewell, and welcoming the lovely Miss Robin on their ship. Now that they were back to sailing the Grand Line, however, it all came back full force.

It had to have been Sanji’s mark. It had to be, right? Right. It had to. It had to.

But then, why hide it? Why not tell him from the start? They could’ve talked about it. Could’ve swapped discovery stories. Sanji would’ve showed off his own mark more clearly, let Usopp touch and hold and examine it as much as he wanted.

Did Usopp not… not want him? Think him inadequate somehow? 

Was he disgusted by the fact he was paired with a man? Of course he was, who was Sanji kidding; anyone would be disgusted by that. Men weren’t supposed to be with other men, weren’t supposed to be dainty, weren’t supposed to be homosexual.

Why did the world have to work this way? Why did Sanji have to work this way? To be so tempted by women and men at every turn. To be so disgusting as to infect even his soulmate with such a disgraceful thing. 

Was it just another failure written into his DNA? Something that would follow him for the rest of his life? It was already unbearable before, unacceptable, but now it was suffocating, filling up his lungs as if—

“Sanji, the pot.”

He jumped, cursing as he quickly pulled the smoking pot off the stove, then cursing again as his wrist bumped the burning metal. The pot dropped to the counter with a CLANG as Sanji shook his hand out, quickly moving to run it under cold water.

“Sorry—sorry Robin, dear,” he mumbled, the rushing water nearly drowning him out. He grimaced at the acrid smell filling the galley as he rubbed his wrist under the spray. “Did you want a refill?”

“No thank you, Mr. Cook.” Her eyes flicked once to the countertop, then back to him. “Something on your mind?”

He followed her gaze, a little embarrassed at his rookie mistake, when he noticed a cigarette teetering on the edge of the counter. 

Did he pull one from his box? 

He tapped his breast pocket and found it empty. 

On the edge of his vision, an arm sprouted from the wall, picking up the familiar cardboard from a spot behind the burnt pot. 

Huh. So he did.

He stared at the crushed little thing. 

Unlit and unusable. 

Unwanted and unloved.

A hand found his shoulder. “Mr. Cook?”

He swallowed heavily. “Not… not using my name, like earlier?”

“You didn’t answer the first few times I spoke.”

Sanji hung his head. “Ah, I see. I didn’t mean to ignore you, my dear, I was just…”

A silence fell over them. The hand vanished with the smell of fallen petals.

“Would you like help?”

Sanji stiffened. He should accept—it wouldn’t do to refuse a lady, but—

“With the pot, I mean.”

Sanji breathed a sigh of relief. “No need to worry, I can handle that myself. I had to do it a lot when I was younger. I’m used to it.”

With that, he grabbed a sponge and set himself upon the task. Pot first, spiraling thoughts later.

Pot first. Pot first. Pot first.

“Mr. Cook.”

Just put everything else in a little box like you always do—just shove it in there, ignore it, put it away.

The pot clanged against the counter once more, wobbling back and forth as he registered a strong grip around his wrists, holding them in the air. There were arms sprouted from his elbows, holding each wrist with a tea towel. Belatedly, Sanji registered an itchy burning on his knuckles.

A new hand caught the pot handle. The sponge slipped from Sanji’s grasp with a plop.

“I believe it should cool off first, Mr. Cook,” Robin said. “We don’t want you harming your hands.”

The butter and garlic were a stark, crackling black on an otherwise pristine pot. A mar—a flaw so stark and obvious that anyone could see it despite its vain attempts to hide behind thin metal walls.

“You know, I’ve been told I’m quite good at keeping secrets.”

Patethically thin metal walls. The kind of cookware that ended up with several irreparable cracks and holes when used in a specific environment. 

One of them being polite conversation with a prying lady.

“I’m also skilled with a knife.”

The tension sapped from his body, leaving him nearly limp with relief. He made to refuse again, but paused as that same itchy heat prickled up his hand. 

Robin took up a cutting board.

—

“Okay, just go up and tell him. Just get it over with, get threatened, and then scream for Zoro when he tries to kill you,” Usopp whispered to himself, pacing back and forth in front of the galley door. “You stared down a guy who called himself a god; this is nothing! Just a few words, one mean look, and you’re gone! Outta there. Donezo. Nothing else required.”

He slowly turned his gaze to the door. A glimpse of blond hair had him ducking with a pounding heart.

“O-Or I could forget about all this, pretend it never happened, and hope Sanji eventually moves on from wanting to maim me.” He nodded to himself. “Yes, solid plan Captain Usopp. We’ll tell Zoro it was a valiant effort, but—”

“Tell Zoro what was a valiant effort?”

Usopp froze. Mechanically, he turned just enough to see Sanji’s face and check that the galley door was, indeed, open. “Oh. Hi, Sanji. I did not see you there. I was just doing Zoro a favour with my new dials.” He swiftly turned to leave. “I will stop bothering you now—”

A heavy hand clapped his shoulder. “Hold it.”

Usopp did his best not to squeak. The weight on his shoulder lightened with a sigh. “I’m not going to fillet you, just… come inside. We need to talk.”

Usopp laughed robotically. “Well, you see. Sanji. I really need to finish up that favour for Zoro. So. We will have to talk some other time.”

He was ready to make a break for it then, take advantage of Sanji’s loosening grip to pull out his patented Usopp Dash and cower in the boys’ dorm—hell, maybe even pay up a handful of berri to hide in the girls’ dorm—but then…

“Please?”

Even before seeing his matching mark, Usopp had never been able to turn down one of Sanji’s requests.

He followed Sanji inside, head hung and dragging his feet as if he were off to the gallows. He might as well be, with the fate that was awaiting him the moment he opened his mouth.

Sanji waited for him to close the door before whirling around and tightly gripping his shoulders. Usopp braced himself to get knee’d in the face. 

“I’m a burnt pot.”

A what? “A what?”

“A burnt pot.”

Usopp stared at Sanji. 

Sanji stared back.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“The walls are thin, Usopp.”

“Are you worried someone’s gonna listen in on us?”

“No, I—” Sanji groaned, pulling away to drag a hand down his face. “Look, I’m like a crumpled cigarette.”

Usopp put the back of his hand to Sanji’s forehead. “It doesn’t feel like a fever.”

Sanji slapped his hand away, a scowl on his face. “Will you cut that shit out? I’m trying to be sincere here.”

“Are you?” The words slipped from his mouth without a thought, but Usopp already knew the answer. He saw it written in the deep bags under Sanji’s eyes, the empty mugs and fresh coffee stains on the tablecloth, the way his hands jittered. “Did you sleep at all—?”

“I’m sorry.”

Usopp blinked. “You’re… sorry?”

Sanji looked away. “I must’ve scared you off that time in the bath, right? I get it… and I’m sorry.”

Usopp furrowed his brow. He didn’t remember anything beside his overwhelming panic at the time. “Your face didn’t scare me off, if that’s what you mean.”

“No, it’s—” He made a noise of frustration. “I fucked you up.”

Usopp inched a foot backwards. “Did you kick me so hard I forgot about it?”

“I didn’t kicked you! God,”—Sanji ran a hand down his face—“don’t make me spell it out.”

“If you’re gonna keep talking nonsense, then yes, please spell out whatever you’re trying to say.”

Sanji whined. Honest to god whined. 

Usopp held up his hands. “If it’s that bad, you don’t have to tell me, in fact we can just pretend this never happened and—”

“I’m sorry I turned you gay.”

A slow, rolling anger started to well up inside Usopp. In a low, dangerous voice, he said, “Excuse me?”

“I’ve been like this for as long as I can remember,” Sanji quickly added. “Don’t know when it started, but I’d been doing pretty good ignoring it or at least making sure other people didn’t notice. Everything was going pretty great until you guys showed up at the Baratie. Then all of a sudden it got worse and—and I kept it quiet, no one noticed, but…”

Usopp didn’t want to try to parse what he was saying. He wanted to give him a piece of his mind, tear into him. He wanted to—

Sanji sniffled. He looked about ready to cry.

Usopp deflated with a sigh.

“I’ve never really cared about who I crushed on.” Usopp took a seat at the table, suddenly tired down to his bones. “Guys, girls, people who were neither. The outside never really mattered.” He put his cheek in his hand and circled the edge of an empty mug with the tip of his finger. “You didn’t ‘infect me’ or anything, I’ve been like this the whole time. Besides, weren’t you given the soulmate shtick too?”

“Shtick?”

“You know,”—Usopp waved a hand—“how they’re supposed to be really important to you or really similar or whatever. People love to say it’s all about romance, but it doesn’t have to be, if you don’t want that.”

“What if I do want it?” Sanji blurted.

“Bold words from someone who was just apologizing for ‘turning me gay’.”

“I’m serious, I…” He knelt at Usopp’s side. “Usopp, please look at me.”

He sighed, but obliged. “Don’t see how this is going… to…” Usopp trailed off, surprise filling him at the tear tracks staining Sanji’s cheeks, the hopeful look in his eye.

“When I woke up next to you in the galley the other day and saw burns matching mine—when I finally got to the top of that shitty flying ship and you were covered in new burns and that fucking ‘god’ ruined your escape, I…” He reached out a hand, pausing to leave it hovering between them. Usopp didn’t move. Sanji gently cradled his cheek.. “I was terrified. I thought I’d lose the chance to tell you before I’d figured things out.” 

His eyes pinched. “No. More than that, I was just terrified to lose you, Usopp. I’d live the rest of my life just being your friend if it meant I could still spend every day of it by your side.” He rubbed his thumb over Usopp’s cheek. Softly, tenderly. “But I want to be more than that, if you’ll let me.”

“You haven’t slept.” Usopp put his hand over Sanji’s own. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

Sanji brought his free hand up to Usopp’s other cheek. “Usopp, I know it’ll be hard for you to trust me—hell, I wouldn’t trust me—but please, give me a chance.”

He was forcing himself. He had to be. He was so caught up with the idea of soulmates that he didn’t care who or what he was matched with. He just wanted to blindly follow whatever the universe and adults told him growing up. 

Usopp swallowed around the lump in his throat. “We have time.” Sanji’s brow furrowed and Usopp rushed to add, “Y-You don’t have to force yourself into this just because of a mark. Take your time and think it over.” 

“But… but we’re supposed to—”

There it is, Usopp thought as he plastered on a smile. “We’re already good friends, isn’t that enough?” It had to be enough. “And I’m not telling you to forget about it, just make sure that it’s what you really want.”

A pause. Not long, but long enough. “What about you?”

Usopp waved a hand, laughing like his heart wasn’t splitting in two. “I’ve never believed in all that soulmate stuff. Sure I was curious who had my mark, but that was it.” He shook his head with a sigh, forcing his voice steady. “Don’t know why everyone’s always so caught up on forcing it to be romantic.”

“I… I suppose it’s… possible to have a friend as a soulmate….”

“That settles it.” Usopp pushed himself up from the table and went for the door. “Good talk, Sanji! Let me know when you’ve got an answer.” Please please, let that be never. “I’m going to enjoy the sunshine while it’s still around. Oh, Luffy might barge in the moment I open the door though, he was complaining about being hungry earlier—”

—

“Wait.”

Usopp turned around, still wearing that fake ass smile. Fuck. 

He clenched his fist. “Usopp, if you—”

“Tell anyone I’ll meet the business end of your shoe? I know that much, Sanji.”

Sanji’s lips thinned. “You didn’t answer my question.”

He shrugged. Sanji saw the tremble in his shoulders. “You’ve gotta know what you want—what you really want—before asking me that, Sanji.”

What he wanted? He wanted to be with his soulmate. To—To finally find the soul he was meant to be with, the person who he could love and cherish and dote on as much as he’d like. To find his other half. 

“I know you like the idea of soulmates,” Usopp said. “I get it, I do. But do you like the idea of me?”

Sanji reared back, as if struck. “Usopp, you have my mark—”

“There, see?” His facade cracked at the edges. “You’re not in it for me. You only see your mark on my chest.”

That—no, Sanji wasn’t—he cared about Usopp. They were best friends! Crewmates! Sanji would do anything to see him safe and happy and well fed! What was wrong with exploring things further? With taking a chance at making good times even better? It had nothing to do with marks and soulmates and following a pre-determined destiny.

Sanji wanted to speak those words—or any number of others that would get Usopp to understand, to listen, to wait—but it all dried up on the tip of his tongue, insincere and insensitive.

Usopp’s shoulders sagged, his eyes falling downcast. “Just. Think about it, okay?”

Still knelt in front of the table, Sanji watched as Usopp quietly left the galley, a swell of guilt in his chest and knowing exactly where he went wrong. 

[opinated-user]

so this anon, that is either sparky himself or LO, is flat out lying. sparky never had a following in our communities. nobody outside of the critical blog even knew about him, he didn't have a blog sharing posts about LO like we do. and we only knew about him because he would send us screenshots about whatever post LO was doing and then make weird question about how "what do you think LO could do to redeem herself as a person", "do you think LO is really that bad of a person" in DMs. in handsight, i believe that he was asking those questions because he projected onto LO as some sort of proxy for himself. if LO could ge forgiven, then maybe he could be forgiven since they're accused of the same things (grooming and preying on minors). as far i know, and someone please correct me if wrong, nobody had any kind of close relationship with anyone. neither as follower, friends or anything. when we did find out who he was and what he did, resulting in all of us immediately blocking at the account that he had at the time, nobody came forward to even lament that they were tricked by him. i never heard a word from anyone who lamented to find out who he was. nobody but Morals, that like me was receiving those screenshots and weird question about LO. so that "platform him" is a lie. he didn't had a platform with followers and supporters. he never did.

mmm, interesting how LO is interpretating "contacting you" as receiving a message on her business email. as if she isn't being contacted by anon right now in an ask or by gygas in a reblog or could be reached by anyone leaving a comment on her channel. but now, suddenly, only her business email is the only way to contact her and anything outside of that, it's not contact, i guess? for the record, nobody said business email. when i say that LO let a known predator be around her community, i very specifically mean this: https://www.tumblr.com/opinated-user/727673616429432832/lo-heres-your-chance-one-of-the-extremely-rare?source=share if you go to that link you'll see screenshot of LO not only platforming sparky in one of his thousands throwaway accounts simply because it supported her narrative (something she had done before for a real life nazi), you'll also see him talking directly to underage fans of LO. i, with the other blogs, spend days begging LO to dennounce sparky on that new account to keep her audience safe from him. here, this is the post i made on the third day of us doing that. nothing happened. LO never shared a call out post. never said anything. never aknowledged that was a thing. we know that she reads our blogs. she still said nothing.

gygas is confusing her timeline there. sparky is capable of be sending racial slurs. he did it before to all of us. MO, if you ever wondered who could have send you all those asks with a graphical description of necrophiliac CSA, it was probably sparky. we received those too. sparky does that when he's hungry for attention. but we didn't know that was the kind of thing he did until after we had already dennounced him and blocked him. like i said above, before we find out who he even was, he only send weird hypotheticals about LO and screenshots talking about LO in our DMs. i never had any kind of personal conversation with him and i don't think any of the other blogs did either. so that "being okay with him being a racist person" is another lie.

you never had any kind of sexual experience with Brittany, LO. you were so desperate for it that you made up a catfishing personality in order to try to manipulate her into one, despite the fact she was deeply uncomfortable and said no countless time. nevermind you kept pushing your audience into shipping the two of you, or you being a creep who actually made merch with both of your avatars being shipped without ever asking for her consent or permission... despite you being the biggest simp that has ever simped and reeking of desperation, and begging for years that Brittany ever looked in your direction, you never have that. i bet you wish you had, even to this day, just like you wished that Courtney had never bought that lock to her room. but you didn't. and even if you did, it's still gross that you'd throw that into everyone's faces when we're talking about supposedly platforming a predator. you really are like P on that sense. neither of you understand there's a time and a place for everything, and any conversations around predators is not the place to talk about your sexual history like a walking talking red flag. not to mention flat out misogynistic and disgusting, considering you did try to coerce her for years into a relationship and ignored the many times she rejected you. almost as gross as you publishing rapes jokes about your sister who is currently accusing you of molesting her for years. keep telling on yourself, LO. it makes it so much easier for us.

talking about throway account, i do think it's funny how LO has completely ignored how she was fooled into believing that the mother of a critic of her send her asks not that long ago. as if her audience is ever going to stay with the version of reality in which that mother was totally real and she was totally concerned for her son and she totally appreciates how kind and helpful LO was. pathetic.

[whatacaitastrophe]

Everything Has Changed - Chapter 7

Previous Chapter

Chapter Song Inspiration: "Shadow of Mine" - Alec Benjamin

Chapter Warnings: fantasizing about acts of a sexual nature

Spotify Playlist: Here

Author Notes: Thank you all so much for reading, reblogging, liking, and commenting on this fic (and the first one)! If you are interested in supporting me in other ways, I have a Ko-Fi link. ya girl has been behind on bills for two months and i've got a dog to feed, and every little bit helps <3

i also have a discord server! it was created to coincide with my twitch channel but you do NOT need to follow/subscribe/watch my twitch streams to come hang out with us <3 we talk a lot about bg3 and share memes and fics.

Chapter 7: It Won't Let Me Go

Arabella remained with them until they made it to Daggerford, and the goodbye was just as tearful as the reunion. 

“Are you sure you won’t come with us?” Fallon pleaded with the tiefling for the fifth time that day as she hugged Arabella tightly.

“I’m sure–but we have sending spells now, so you’ll be able to find me once you get back. No more disappearing without a trace,” Arabella let go of Fallon and gave Gale a pointed look. “For any of you.”

“Did you really have to tell her the entire story of what transpired since we last saw her?” Gale rolled his eyes, but he was smiling.

“Do you really want me to answer that question?” Fallon teased. The fact that she could laugh about it now, with Gale of all people, was a testament to how far she’d come. How far she and Gale had come since he returned to her life. 

“Point taken.” Gale sighed. He embraced Arabella when she approached him, and pressed an affectionate kiss to the top of the teenager’s head. “Stay out of trouble, little one.” 

“Well that’s the pot calling the kettle black, isn’t it?” Astarion chimed in as he approached to say goodbye to Arabella next. “I’m more worried about the three of us finding trouble than I am about her.” 

“From everything I’ve witnessed in the last couple of days, that’s probably reasonable.” Arabella teased as she wrapped her arms around Astarion’s middle.

With one final wave, Arabella departed back in the direction they came from, and Fallon wiped the last of her tears from her eyes. “I’m going to miss her.” Fallon said sadly. 

Having Arabella in camp filled a hole in Fallon’s heart that she hadn’t even realized existed until Arabella swept in to save them from the vampires. Not only had Arabella rounded out their little party very nicely personality wise, but Astarion and Gale had become a little friendlier towards each other since Arabella arrived. Fallon could only assume the change in attitudes was due to the fact that the vampire and the sorcerer were hyper-aware they were being watched by an incredibly observant young person, and they wanted to be a positive influence on her. 

It was an assumption that left Fallon imagining what both Astarion and Gale would be like with children of their own, and those thoughts made her heart flutter. Before being kidnapped by mind-flayers, having children was not something Fallon had ever considered. She’d been single by choice, content with the freedom of not having to answer to anybody and without anyone depending on her. Not only that, but she’d firmly believed she wouldn’t be a very good mother. Fallon was most certainly not the woman she’d been when the nautiloid picked her up, and her life had gone in a direction she never could have imagined. Now, she’d been lucky enough to experience life-altering love not once, but twice, and that love made her think about the future for a change. It made her wonder if she would make a good mother if she had the right person at her side. 

Not that becoming a mother was something Fallon was eager to do now, nor was it something she and Astarion had even talked about. Not only was Fallon unsure if children were even something Astarion wanted, but Fallon wasn’t even sure it was possible for Astarion to get her pregnant at all. Fallon wasn’t in a position to take any chances right now because of their lifestyle, so she still took a contraceptive tonic every month anyway, but was it even necessary? Fallon pushed the thoughts to the back burner of her mind, where they would remain until after this adventure was over. 

Daggerford was a small town about a three-day ride from Waterdeep. It would have been nice if their journey was ending in Waterdeep, but instead, the City of Splendours was just the final stop before leaving Faerun altogether. The only portal to Velrea was in Waterdeep, and Fallon just hoped they wouldn’t have to wait terribly long before being granted access to use it. Though it wasn’t as if there would be nothing for them to do in Waterdeep– not with Gale in their party. The closer they got to the sorcerer’s hometown, the higher Gale’s spirits became. He was already talking about showing them all of the magic of his tower, visiting his mother, and a tavern or two he wanted to show them. For tonight though, Daggerford was where they’d rest, and the thought of getting to sleep in a real bed for the first time in weeks had Fallon counting the hours until it was a reasonable time to collapse on the mattress and sleep. 

“I don’t think there are enough words to express how much I am looking forward to a hot bath.” Gale groaned as they reached their rooms at the Lizard’s Gizzard, an inn nestled in the Money Quarter of Daggerford. 

“I think that’s something we can all agree on.” Astarion mused while Fallon unlocked their door. 

“Definitely. How about we all freshen up and meet back downstairs in an hour? We could do with some additional supplies, just to get us to Waterdeep.” Fallon suggested, and Gale nodded his head. 

“The two of you can go– I, for one, am going to fully enjoy letting my skin breathe by staying in this room until nightfall.” Fallon didn’t blame Astarion for not wanting to go out with them when it wasn’t necessary. The look the innkeeper had given him when they walked in the door was bad enough, the excuse of a “skin condition” they’d given him was rather weak, and Fallon wasn’t entirely sure the man had believed them.

“That makes sense. We’re not exactly in a remote area anymore, and your daytime attire may cause more raised eyebrows than we’re used to. Best not to push our luck when we’re in the home stretch. Fallon, I’ll see you in an hour.” Gale confirmed before disappearing into his own room. 

Fallon followed Astarion into their room and she let out a sigh of contentment at the sight of the bed. “I’m going to sleep so well tonight, my gods.” Fallon walked over to the large tub in the corner of the room and grinned. It was already full of steaming hot water, waiting for them, and Fallon was officially of the opinion that the staff at this place needed a raise. Without thinking twice, she stripped out of her clothes and slipped into the water, only wincing slightly as the hot water hit her skin. 

“Oh, were you planning on sleeping, darling?” Astarion said devilishly, following her lead and removing his own clothes, joining her in the bath without waiting for an invitation. 

Fallon gave him a wry grin. “Among other things,” she gently splashed him with water. “Still, sleeping for only a few hours in a comfortable bed will be infinitely better than a full night on the ground.” 

“Yes, I’ll be quite happy once we reach Waterdeep because it means the camping part of this journey is over.” Astarion sighed dramatically. 

Fallon laughed lightly before submerging herself in the water fully, soaking her hair and face. She desperately needed to wash her hair, but after traveling for half the day, she really just wanted to sit in the water and enjoy its warmth for a while. Astarion seemed to have a similar idea, and he reached for her, pulling Fallon so she sat between his legs with her back to him. She leaned back against him and was rewarded with a tender kiss to her shoulder as his arms wrapped around her. 

“You’re sure the portal will take us directly to Asha, and we’ll truly be done with camping?” Fallon wondered. Astarion hummed in response, his mouth lingering on her skin. 

“Positive. Everything I’ve read says the Waterdeep portal goes directly to the city center in Asha,” His fingers traced over her abdomen, easily finding the wound she’d earned in their fight against the vampire coven earlier that week. “Does it still hurt?” 

Fallon nodded softly. “A little. The scar will look cool though once it’s fully healed.” 

Fallon noted the sudden change of topic, but didn’t push Astarion on it. There was something about his tone that told her to leave it for now. It was almost as though he didn’t want to talk about what would happen once they reached Asha, because that was basically where the plan ended. Their research had turned up how to get there, the layout of the city and its different districts, but they’d found very little on the subject of vampire activity in the area; which meant they were going to have to wing it, or hope that a vampire from another coven entering their territory would smoke the Ashan vampires out, just as Astarion’s presence had done to the Szarlnaxis. 

The muffled sound of Astarion’s laughter reverberated against her skin as he kissed her shoulder again and let out an amused exhale through his nose. “Well, as long as the scar looks cool.” He said sarcastically. Astarion released his light hold on her to reach for the soap, and lathered it between his hands. Once he set the soap back down, his hands were on Fallon again, pushing her to lean forward enough so he could access her back. 

The feeling of his broad hands massaging her back was enough for a closed mouth moan to escape Fallon’s body, and she allowed her head to fall forward as she relaxed. The more relaxed she became, the more her mind wandered back to her earlier thoughts about Gale and Astarion, and how well-behaved they were in front of Arabella. 

“You and Gale seem to be getting on much better lately,” Fallon observed. “Who knew all it would take would be him turning you into a cat?” 

“You’re hilarious. No, I think we came to a bit of an understanding when he offered to let me drink his blood, and I, in turn, figured out he’s a sorcerer.” Astarion mused. 

“So the two of you are friends again? It wasn’t just because Arabella was around?” She couldn’t help but be hopeful that the vampire and the sorcerer were actually becoming friends. It would certainly make her life easier.

“I don’t know if I would use the term 'friends', but Gale is certainly much more tolerable when he’s not moaning about being a normal human.” Astarion’s hands moved from her back to her shoulders, and Fallon smiled to herself. 

“I never got to ask– did his blood taste how you predicted it would?” She inquired, recalling their conversation from back when they first met about what everyone else in camp’s blood might taste like.

“Better, if I’m being honest.” Astarion confessed, and to her surprise, the tiniest ball of jealousy formed in the pit of Fallon’s stomach. She moved away from the vampire and adjusted herself so she was on her knees between his legs, facing him. 

“Better than mine?” She pouted playfully, and Astarion’s expression bloomed into a satisfied smirk. He reached for Fallon beneath the water, resting his hands on her hips and he tugged her back towards him. Fallon went willingly, spreading her legs to straddle his lap and draped her arms around his neck.

“Strange, I didn’t take you for the jealous type, darling.” he teased.

“Who said anything about being jealous? Maybe I just like being the best.” Fallon shrugged innocently as she played with the silver curls at the nape of his neck.  

Astarion’s fingers idly traced circles on her hips as he considered her argument. “You do have a competitive streak,” He conceded, leaning forward to connect his mouth with hers. Astarion’s tongue traced her bottom lip before he gently nipped at it with his teeth. “But I don’t think that’s all it is.”

“You’re avoiding the question, sweetheart.” Fallon called him out, rolling her hips slowly against his, and she felt Astarion’s cock begin to stir with interest. 

Astarion let out a tiny moan disguised as a laugh and kissed her once, twice, three times, and each kiss became progressively needier. When he pulled away, he pressed his forehead against Fallon’s.“No, my love, no one’s taste compares to yours. You’re in a different galaxy compared to everyone else. You were my first, after all, and one always remembers their first.”

“That’s more like it.” Fallon hummed and enveloped his mouth with her own.

Fallon managed to only be five minutes late to meet Gale downstairs. “Have you been waiting long?” She greeted Gale. 

“I only just got down here myself.” Gale shook his head, avoiding her gaze, and she couldn’t help but notice the rosy color creeping up his neck. 

It didn’t take a genius to figure out why Gale couldn’t look at Fallon. After all, Gale’s room was directly next to Fallon and Astarion’s, and Fallon was late because she’d spent a large portion of the time she was supposed to be using to get ready with Astarion’s face between her legs. Despite being one of the nicer inns in town, apparently that didn’t mean the walls were soundproof. Fallon shot him an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, Gale.”

He breathed out an embarrassed laugh and waved his hand. “It’s quite alright. After all, it’s not the first time in this journey that I’ve…heard things…” Gale cleared his throat. It was true, but if Gale had been bothered the last time he heard Fallon and Astarion, he hadn’t had time to be visually uncomfortable about it in front of them, thanks to the ambush. 

“I can ask the innkeeper to move Astarion and I farther away from you, if you wish.” She offered.

“No,” Gale answered, a little too quickly, and Fallon’s brow furrowed in confusion. He cleared his throat again, and he looked up, forcing himself to look at her. “I’ll be fine. Arabella was kind enough to teach me a spell that blocks out noise. Not something I’d dare try out in the open— far too much risk— but here, at an inn with doors that lock, and parchment thin walls that hardly feel like walls at all? I think I’ll be safe to give it a go. Though Arabella did mention I can only use it once per day, so I thought it best I save it for this evening.” 

Guilt swirled in her stomach, but it was different from the guilt she’d felt earlier on in their journey about flaunting her relationship with Astarion in front of Gale. Instead, the guilt she felt had nothing to do with the fact that her ex-boyfriend overheard them having sex, and everything to do with the way her body reacted to the information. Knowing that Gale could hear everything, almost as though he were in the room with them from the sound of it, sent a thrilling shot of arousal through her body. 

It was arousal that caused her mind to imagine Gale pleasuring himself as he listened to Fallon and Astarion enjoying each other; to imagine what it would be like if Gale were in the room with them, watching: praising her for how well she took Astarion’s cock and telling her how pretty she looked while Gale stroked himself. How it would feel when Gale’s restraint finally faltered and he joined them on the bed. 

Fallon felt guilty for how badly she wanted it. Fallon was pretty sure Astarion would do it if he thought it would make her happy, but not because he wanted to. In Fallon’s mind, that in itself was the same as Astarion saying “no,” because there was no world in which she would prioritize her own pleasure above of Astarion’s level of sexual comfort. Then there was Gale: the man who told Fallon she wasn’t a “loaf of bread to be passed around a table at supper time” at her suggestion of bringing Halsin into their relationship.

That was why this guilt was manifesting within her for desiring something that would make the two people she cared for most in this world at best wildly uncomfortable, even if for entirely different reasons. The fact that Fallon once again considered Gale among the people she cared most for in this world was another realization in itself.

Falling back into a friendship with Gale had been as easy as breathing. He was, still, one of her best friends, and while she felt like she’d finally forgiven Gale for the things he’d done to her, that didn’t mean she had forgotten. Her heart certainly hadn’t. Knowing how deeply she cared for Gale as a person, as a friend, when mixed with the fact that she was clearly still sexually attracted to the man, well, it was one step too close to falling back in love with him. Even without the Astarion of it all, the idea of granting Gale access to her heart a second time absolutely terrified her. 

“Fallon? Are you alright? You look like you’re miles away.” Gale’s voice snapped her out of the reverie. 

“Yes, sorry, my mind ran off without me.” She explained as a deep blush permeated her cheeks, revealing her embarrassment. 

An amused look formed on Gale’s face. “Where did it run off to?”

“Nowhere exciting,” Fallon lied with a smile. “Come on, we need supplies.” 

Gale’s expression revealed that he did not believe her, but thankfully he didn’t push the matter further, and for that she was grateful.

Chapter List