#th: reluctant request

[ginevrapng]

I saw that you were accepting requests and I was wondering if you could write something about best friends’ dads!marauders x reader or something like that?

If not, I completely understand! <3

i've never written bestfriends!dads before so i hope you enjoy it! i didn't know if you wanted me to include peter but the majority of marauders fics leave out peter and i think this concept works better without him. <3

there was a lot of great things about being harry potter's best friend, one of those things happens to be getting to spend time with his hot dad james, completely off limits dad. that doesn't stop you from thinking about how charming he is though.

you've seen photos of james when he were younger and harry is a spitting image of him. now with age he's changed in all the best ways, his hair less messy, neater with slightly having the appearance of being slicked back and with thicker frame glasses. a distinction between him and harry, both younger and older is his build, james being more built with broader shoulders and more muscular.

he's kind and considerate and always calls you 'sweetheart' making you flush and every time leaves you wide eyed. you've never heard him call anyone else sweetheart so it's always leaving you feeling bashful.

james tells you that you can come and visit and stay whenever you want and you're always welcome so whenever you spend time at harry's you also end up seeing his two godfathers who also spend a lot of time there. whenever that happens you are rather reluctant to leave the house, not just enjoying all the company that they deliver but also how attractive they are, just like james.

remus somehow always memorising you. like when he rolls his sleeves up so you can see his arms or how you swear you sometimes see in the corner of your eye glimpses of him looking at your lips while you're talking. his jumpers and cardigans always looking so comfortable and soft, you wonder what they'd look like on you. you think about his sandy hair that covers his eyes and his beautiful hazel eyes that crinkle when he smiles and how he always looks tired and how you'd happily let him rest and sleep on you. he never talks about his work but it must be pretty rough for him to constantly look so tired.

sirius is ruggedly handsome always leaning against walls instead of sitting down, even when a seat is available. leaving you watching longer than you should as you watch his pose and see him stretching causing his tshirt to rise, exposing a bit of his torso. he has his long jet black hair which now has streaks of grey that he constantly runs his hands through.

you're going back into the living room, where everyone is, after you went to the kitchen to get a glass of cold water due to the heat and see sirius moving in a way that momentarily makes you freeze.

"you alright doll?" sirius smirks at you after spotting you. you nod but are unable to stop shifting side to side nervously after being caught, causing him to raise his eyebrow, looking amused as he chuckles at you.

this is the first time any of them has addressed your behaviour towards them but they have all noticed your longing looks and shy glances.

they've all been waiting for the moment to make a move and they're starting to lose their patience. you were none the wiser with their intentions, trying to get you alone, away from your friends and away from harry, asking you personal questions and give you special attention.

"you got a boyfriend or girlfriend doll? sirius asked you out of the blue one day, catching you completely off guard.

you splutter and try to answer while james starts speaking. "you're not dating my harry are you sweetheart?"

"what! of course i'm not! we're just friends." you say probably louder than you should, wanting to defend yourself.

you hear someone coming up behind you, "good." remus clasps your shoulders with his hands, slowly rubbing them and making patterns with his thumbs before he moves away and goes to help sirius with the washing up.

fiddling with your fingers you watch them all clear the table and sort out things that needed to be doing in the house with a small dreamy smile on your face.

[verstappen-cult]

I have a request for max!

Reader is a strategist for Mercedes. Max and her, they got married in secret and have a 2 year old daughter together.

I know this is not much to work with but you do you!

(I love your fics <3)

hi bestie! i left the mercedes’ strategist plot out of this, but i hope you still like it! btw this was gonna be really short and ended up being this other thing. <333

You look out the car window and then to your daughter playing with her favorite plushie next to you. She doesn’t know that you’re about to be the topic of conversation for the next week — month even. She only knows that there are gonna be a lot of people trying to take pictures of you both, and that you’re gonna see Dad’s friends too. 

“Hey, baby.” You whisper, brushing a strand of blonde hair out of her face. “You’re ready to see Daddy?” She smiles at the mention of her favorite person in the whole world, forgetting all about her toy. 

“Where are we?” She asks, looking out the window. 

You lift her up onto your lap, placing a kiss on her temple. “We’re gonna watch papa just like we do from home every Sunday.”

“We have fun watching papa.” 

“Yes, so,” You take your bag and her plushie before taking a deep breath. “let’s go and have some fun, then.”

It’s no secret to anyone that you and Max have been dating for quite a few years now. You used to be more public about your relationship, but then you got pregnant and Max decided that it was best if you kept things a little more private, and you were more than happy to do it until you started to miss going to the races and seeing him more often. 

Max was a bit reluctant at first, but after some — a lot — of convincing he accepted. The two of you agreed to put some boundaries and to take things slowly. The first step was going to the Monaco Grand Prix, so, you wouldn’t have to travel and he could be home by the end of the day with his favorite girls. And, if things become too much, you can just go home. 

The moment you set foot on the paddock, you know there is no going back. You feel nervous and like your whole body is on fire, but when you look at your daughter’s smile as you hold her in your arms, you forget about everything.

“Mama, look! Papa!” She points to the giant banner to your left. And there he is, alongside a few of the other drivers. 

“Oi!” Dani calls from a few meters away. You wish he would not have done it because it draws attention you really didn’t want. 

“Uncle Dani!” 

You see the exact moment people recognize you, reporters starting to make their way to you at the same time you hurry to Dani’s side. He has a big, bright smile on his face, he’s always smiling but you think he’s genuinely happy to see you and your daughter. 

“Hi, Dani.” The Aussie wraps an arm around your shoulder and kisses your cheek as a greeting. 

“Hey, angel.” Your daughter makes grabby hands at Dani and, obviously, he immediately takes her in his arms. ��Did you miss uncle Dani?” She nods, wrapping her tiny arms around his neck. 

“Have you seen Max?” You ask him, but he shakes his head, too busy paying attention to whatever your daughter is telling him in the ear. 

You don’t feel comfortable. It’s been so long since you’ve been in the paddock that now feels like you’re attending your first race for the very first time. You were nervous then, you are terrified now as you see reporters approaching, calling your name and asking about your daughter. It’s not that they don’t know you and Max have a daughter, you and Max have been pretty open about her but always leaving her face out of the family photos you share on social media. However, this is news to everyone. This is a headline. And you know they’re just doing their job.

“Let’s go find him, okay?”

You barely hear him, trying to politely tell the reporter by your left that you will not give any interview and to stop asking about your daughter. Daniel has to give you a little pat on the back to make you walk, sending death glares to the people surrounding you in the process. 

There are phones and video cameras following you along the paddock, and you think you should’ve accepted Max’s offer of waiting for you at the entrance. But you didn’t want to be a burden. You were pretty confident about handling things by yourself but now… not so much. 

“Hey, are you okay? You’re a little pale.” Dani’s voice is soothing. You’re glad he’s carrying your daughter because you don’t feel strong enough to do it. Someone behind you — one of the many, many people following you — pushes you, making you bump into another person by your side. “Watch out! There’s a baby here!”

Daniel is mad and doesn’t hesitate in wrapping an arm around your waist, guiding you inside the nearest place that turns out to be the McLaren hospitality. 

“I’m gonna call Max, alright?”  

“What’s happening outside? Oh, you’re here!”

“Uncle Lando!” Your daughter’s voice is what finally pulls you out of your head. 

You walk to Dani, taking her in your arms. “Did you miss Uncle Lando too?”

“Is something wrong?” Lando asks again, bopping the little girl on the nose. 

“So many people,” You breathe out, closing your eyes for a second. “I didn’t think it was going to be this way, really.”

“Well, it’s a big deal that you’re here. Both of you.” Lando looks outside, reporters and cameras ready to catch a glimpse for when you have to leave. “Do they know? The media, I mean, about…” He looks to your hand, right where your wedding ring is. 

You groan, hiding your face in your daughter’s neck, making her giggle. “No, but I’m sure it will be worse when they notice.”

There’s a huge commotion outside that draws your attention. When you look, you find Max trying to make his way through the mass of people. Seeing him makes you relax immediately, but then he’s pushing a man when this shoves a microphone in his face and you don’t feel so relaxed anymore.

“Shit, shit” Daniel is quick to open the doors and go outside, a few members of McLaren following him. “Can you hold her, please?” 

Your daughter goes willingly with Lando as you run outside. Daniel stands between the reporter and Max, his hand on your husband’s chest trying to stop him from jumping over him to get to the man. 

There’s a bigger commotion when they see you, everyone shouting your name and asking questions that you don’t pay attention to, but it’s enough to make Max forget about fighting the reporter.

Max runs to you, hands cupping your face. “Hey, baby. Are you okay? Something happened?” 

“I’m okay. Just—let’s go inside, please.” 

Max doesn’t hesitate. He grabs your hand tightly, not caring about being seen going inside McLaren hospitality, not when you and his daughter are there needing him.

“Papa!” 

Your husband’s face lights up, that pretty smile you love so much making its way onto his face. "Mijn mooie meisje.” The tension on his face goes away the moment he takes her in his arms. 

“You wanna go home?” Lando asks you, handing you a glass of water. 

“Yes, you’re going home.” Max answers for you, hugging his daughter tightly against his chest. 

“We are not. We knew this would happen, well, not at this scale but,” You shrug, taking a sip of water. “I don’t wanna go. We should’ve planned this better.” 

“Yeah, you should have.” Daniel jokes, but when no one laughs he just stands there awkwardly. “Look, she’s already here. You’re not gonna send her home, are you?”

Lando bites his lip before saying, “You won’t be able to hide forever.” 

“I know!” Max sighs, putting down his daughter on one of the sofas. “Why don’t you play while I talk with your uncles for a bit?” Unaware of everything, she just takes her plushie and waits for you to be finished. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable or feel unsafe.”

“We’re safe here. Everyone will take care of us, I know that.” You take his hand, thumb caressing the back of it. “It was just the shock of experiencing all of this again. It reminded me of the first time I attended a race.” You say, shyly. 

“Oh, I remember that.” He has that special glint in his eyes that tells you that he remembers every little detail of that day. 

“Uh, gross.” Lando pretends to throw up, earning a playful push from Daniel.

“You sure you’re gonna be okay?”

“Yes, love. Besides, how are you gonna tell her she won’t be watching papa race?” You look at your little baby, talking with her plushie and showing the toy around. “I don’t know which one of us is more excited.”

“You know it’s only a matter of time before they notice this?” Max takes your hand to his lips, kissing your wedding ring.

“I want them to know.” 

“Oh, thank God!” He exclaims, peppering kisses all over your face. “I hate not wearing my ring on race weekends.”

[prismdewdrop]

dangerous territory 

Summary: jason todd may be exhausted after a long night of vigilance, but if you've stayed up late just to talk to him, he's going to make sure he knows exactly why.

or: jason and reader are both idiots and should probably just kiss, but they're idiots, so they do... whatever this is instead.

Pairing: Jason Todd x gn!reader 

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: mention of jason's death, mention of dead animals (in reference to the plot of john wick)

Tags: roommates in love, late-night conversations, mutual pining, jason is a little bit of an asshole (affectionate), he's not beating the little shit allegations, jason todd loves reader and is soo not normal about it, pov jason todd, everyone is 18+

A/N: long-time jason todd lover, first-time fic writer!

this work was inspired by @notnotacowpoke 's roommatesverse with jason, and they've been absolutely amazing with betaing and just going insane with me over this. you can read their work on ao3 :))

please feel free to leave your thoughts in the comments or in the tags! thanks for reading <3

edit (a big thank you): omg thank you so much for the response, everyone! i genuinely can't believe my first fic on a sideblog got so much of a reaction, and I'm so, SO grateful. my inbox is open for your thoughts or requests for jason and his roommate reader! i'd love to say hi and explore this au some more!

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"Jay?" 

The sleep-soft call melts the night and the pain away. 

Halting his lonely trek to his room, Jason Todd turns towards your voice. A fresh bruise catches at the quickness of his movement, but he tucks away the wince into the back of his throat.

You're standing at your door, peering into the dark in his direction.

"Yeah, babe?" 

A low hiss makes it out of his throat as the endearment falls from his mouth. He waits to see if you caught it. You sounded exhausted, drowsy with much-needed sleep, and even in your apartment, the city was never quiet. Whether you heard it or not, though, you don't acknowledge it, waiting to hear a confirmation from him.

His heart aches for a split second, recognizing the fatigue in your voice, like the second skin he wears every day, accompanied by the tinge of fear that keeps him alive – and keeps you waiting to hear for sure if it's him.

"It's me. What's up?" he says again, louder this time.

You open the door wider, stepping more clearly into his view, just a little past the doorway. One side of your face and body is splashed in the ever-glistening lights of the city that leaks into your apartment in a haze of light gray.

The patch of light helps, and so does his helmet's night vision.

He can see you now, and like always, a breath catches in his throat–even rumpled with sleep, you look lovely and soft.

To you, he knows that he's just a larger patch of darkness against the dimness of your shared living room.

"You're back earlier than I thought you would be," you say finally.

He can see the concern flit over your face as you do your best to scan him in the darkness, checking in vain for any obvious wounds or hurts. He watches as your concern deepens when you're unable to make out anything in the dark, still reluctant to ask him to step into the light

"Slow night," he shrugs. 

He steps closer to you, not fully into the light but close enough that you can make out more of his form. He sees the relief wash over your face and your shoulders loosen a little as you clock his unaffected stride and note the lack of any visible wounds. He doesn't mention his new bruise. And he won’t, at least not until you tell him what it is that has kept you up so late. 

"I – well, I was waiting for you to come back..." 

A pause. 

You pull your lip between your teeth, eyes darting over his face, shoulders climbing towards your ears with tension. He can practically see your mind whirring, and he can see the exact moment you decide against finishing your sentence. Your eyes drop, and your shoulders with them. 

A sigh. 

Then: a small smile.

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Which... you are. Clearly. I think. At least, you look—"

You stop yourself, realising that you were babbling. With a pasted-on sheepish smile and an awkwardly cheery wave, you turn towards the door. 

"Well! You must be tired, get some rest. I'll see you tomorrow morning!"

The forced cheer cuts through your fatigue for only a few seconds as you rush the words out and turn towards your room, and he sees the corners of your mouth dipping down the moment you think he can't see your face. You're not a bad liar, by any means. It just so happens that most of the time you're together, you're the only thing Jason sees.

"No."

"What?"

Confusion contorts your face as it snaps to look at him again. Your eyebrows knit together, lips pursing and pushing out into a pout. It's cute, and he's quite sure you have no idea you do this.

"I'm going to camp right out here," he gestures at the (incredibly uncomfortable) couch as he looks straight at you, challenge evident in his voice and in the set of his squared shoulders – "And I am not resting until you tell me what you need."

You frown, lips pressed together into a tight line. You're weighing his response, trying to piece together just how serious he is. Jason reaches up to unclasp his helmet, lifting it off and letting you see that there's very little humor in his eyes – just enough to soften you into spitting out what you really wanted to say — but not enough to let this go.

That's enough for you, though, even in the limited light. Only three months of cohabitation and somehow the both of you could read each other just as well as the stacks of books that crowded the apartment – well worn, annotated, so many of them in various states of disarray, torn and stained and bent, nearly all with cracked spines, but still so so beloved.

He can read you a little better, though, what with his years of vigilance and, well. Everything else that followed.

Jason knows you – the same way he knows the locations of all of Bruce's safe houses, or the exact number of times he could call Tim 'the replacement' before something heavy would be launched at his head. That is to say, concerningly well.

There wasn't a twitch of your eyebrow or a blush or a glare or an angry press of your lips against each other, or a quirk of them (he may have studied your lips especially well) that he hadn't committed to memory, that he didn't know by heart. He wonders if you know, and he wonders what you'd think if you did.

Another sigh, your shoulders sag further, and he makes a mental note to take you through some exercises to improve your truly terrible posture.

"Jason, it's really nothing that can't wait till morning, I just –"

"Come on, dude," He scoffs, not unkindly. "I know you wouldn't have stayed up so late if it wasn't important enough to keep you up."

He nods at the dregs of coffee in the mug you'd forgotten on the centre table for emphasis. There's no hiding from the world's third (or maybe fourth?) best detective that it's the special, strong type that you usually reserve for the most daunting of deadlines.

You swallow up the rest of your words and let out a huff. This time, it's more frustrated than tired, and he can see the flash of irritation in your eyes. You glance away from him, arms coming up to clasp your elbows, encircling yourself in a loose hug. Discomfort radiates off of you in waves, and as you sink your teeth into your lips again; he notes the steady rise of your shoulders towards your ears.

A flash of annoyance goes through him. Not at you — never at you — but whatever new inconvenience this city has wrought for you. Whatever it is that has you up and walking around at 3 AM in the morning after a draining day of work and study and worrying about him.

He fights the urge to step closer, to wrap his hands around your shoulders, smoothing the bare skin and loosening the tightness in them. It would be so easy — there's barely four feet between the two of you, in a few steps he could be holding you and —

He stops himself from following that particular train of thought.

Red Hood faces open gunfire head-on almost daily. Sometimes, he even takes an explosion or two to the face. Then there was the time he'd died, followed by all the times he'd almost died. And he still couldn't remember the last time he'd felt true, bone-deep fear.

But this, this was dangerous territory he was terrified of treading. Yet he was unable to deny the existence of the temptation, always tugging on something in his chest like a low undercurrent, occasionally crashing over him in a wave of desire to touch and protect and hold. To slip his fingers through yours, through your hair, over your lips, between them.

He wonders if you know how easily he can read you, see the way your mind is running through excuses and half-truths to throw him off right now, extricate yourself from this uncomfortable situation and put a safe distance between you again. He should let you do it, really. Even you know that this territory is... not for you. Which is why you were now teetering at its edge after taking these few hesitant steps towards it – him.

But still. He can't ignore the tug. He can deny the waves, stop himself with a savage jerk on his mental reins. That low undercurrent, however – he nurses it, lets it guide him. He has to. It hasn't been long since you met, but he already doesn't know what he would do without it guiding him back to you, day after night after day, painful blow after near-death encounter.

And so he narrows his eyes at you, ready to counter anything you say that isn't the truth.

He feels like a dick; he really does – dangling his well-being in front of you to get you to just stand up and say it. He does this sometimes, pushing you and inconveniencing you – borderline bullying you into being honest with him.

But he knows he's right to be doing this. You have enough fire in you to push back when need be, when he crosses a line, and knowing you, you would've stormed back into your room without a backward glance and with a slam of your door, if whatever this was wasn't bothering you so much.

"I..." You paused to glare at him, just to show him that even if you were playing along, you did not appreciate playing his games.

Jason hides his smile and just raises his eyebrows.

Hands clenching into fists, you glare up at the ceiling as you wrestle with your words, as if hoping for divine intervention.

Another sigh, this time an admit of defeat.

"Fine – but I'm warning you – it's stupid –"

"With you, roomie, I doubt it is."

"Jason, can you please stop interrupting me? I'm really trying here."

Jason raises his palms in a silent apology, an acknowledgement of his dickish behavior, saving the real sorries for later.

You nod in acceptance.

"Okay." Deep breath. "I just wanted to... show you something. And spend some time with you. You know, because we haven't been able to catch up lately and I –" You stop, voice strangling around the next words, catching yourself. You take a breath before continuing. "And I could really use your... insights."

Your voice trails off, and he can feel you wince internally as you slip into impersonal corporate speak, an effort to avoid any words that were more intimate than they had the right to be.

Jason knows. Or at least he can make a damn good guess as to what the words you'd struggled to choke off were. He knew, sure as hell, it wasn't ‘insights ’, but acknowledging the unsaid words was very much stepping into the dangerous territory. And like you had when he slipped up and called you babe, he doesn't.

If he felt anything less than what he did feel, he would have joked about it, said something like: "Aww, bestie, I miss you too". Then you would laugh and shake your head and you would slip back into the easy camaraderie that had marked the beginning of your relationship – before Jason had started noticing the precise way in which the hearts that you signed your notes off with varied in size and number depending on the mood you were in, or the way your hand reached for his every time you crossed a road together.

So instead, he says nothing. He just waits.

"I'll be in my room," you say, arms wrapping around yourself again, a blush rising steadily up your neck and onto your cheeks. You nod at his gear. "Whenever you're ready, just come in. I'll be up."

Oh. They were to be alone. In your room. Probably on the bed. No, definitely on the bed. There's no space for a desk or chair in rooms that come with apartments in this part of Gotham, especially the ones affordable for students. No, there's only one place they can sit comfortably together.

Not that they haven't sat on your bed – or his bed – together before. They have, countless times. They've cuddled and huddled, most times with a pile of snacks for company.

On the days they'd given up on any possibility of productivity, they'd marathoned all their comfort movies and franchises before falling asleep, arms around each other, legs tangled, and depending on who'd had the worst week, a head tucked under another's chin, lead gently into slumber by the comforting rhythm of a heartbeat.

They'd binged Lord of the Rings (NOT The Hobbit series; you both agreed that that was a waste of time, though Jason had stronger, angrier feelings towards it than you did), almost all the Austen adaptations (you could never decide which Emma you liked better – the one with Anya Taylor Joy had the beautiful production and a great depiction of the relationship between Emma and Harriet, but the one with Gwyneth Paltrow had a certain charm, and the leads good chemistry); John Wick that one time – he'd adored the way you'd poked him and asked him if he could do/had done some of the particularly impressive stunts (he could, and you'd been thoroughly impressed); Fast and Furious – only till the sixth one though – Jason personally thought Fast Five was where they should have ended their binge, but you were partial to the sixth one (because of the romance, you said), and Jason had grudgingly accepted it's merits. 

That was, what, at least 40 hours of just watching movies? And that didn't even include the time they'd spend just hanging out together, reading silently, or watching something on their own (though one of them would inevitably end up joining the other).

No, he's definitely been in your bed, comfortable with the tugging undercurrents of longing in every laugh you shared, the way you'd sniffled unfailingly at the last march of the Ents, and when his eyes watered at the ride of the Rohirrim, the way you'd both sighed at Darcy's confession, and when you'd turned to Jason as you watched John Wick lay waste to New York's criminal underworld in revenge for his dead dog, and ask: 

"You'd do this for me, right?"

"Absolutely."

"Okay, good. I'd maybe hire someone to do this for you, since you know. I can't kill a man with my bare hands."

You could kill a man with your smile, though, Jason remembered thinking. You killed him a little every day and brought him back just as well, each time just a little bit more whole than the last time he'd been brought back to life.

Sure, he'd been in your bed. But not like this, not when the darkness of the night had melted that thing in his chest – the thing that searched for you the moment he woke up – and brought it out from where it was safe in its cage, to the back of his mouth, the tips of his fingers, the pupils of eyes – poised right on the edge of saying, doing, showing the wrong thing.

Say no, the admittedly miniscule part of his brain that didn't leap to fulfill your every wish insisted. They've given you an out already. Just say you're more tired than you look and talk tomorrow. This isn't just treading - this is running blind and unarmed into dangerous territory. Say no.

But... they miss me, the overwhelmingly persuasive part of him that ached to sweep that particularly unrepentant loose curl into place every day reminds him. They're up and they're worried and they want me to come talk to them because they miss me. I miss them.

His heart twists. He can't say no, never could.

Jason wonders if you know that he would walk into a shootout blindfolded, without armor and with a grin, if that could bring you anything worthwhile. He turns a fond smile your way, his careful expression melting away. 

Your breath catches as the corners of his mouth lift. When Jason smiles like that, his eyes crinkle, they shine at you as if you're all he sees, and it was heartachingly beautiful in it's rarity.

Jason's smile was a golden patch of sun on a cold day; you're powerless in its wake to do anything except curl up in its warmth and bask – always longing for more and more. 

"You know I wouldn't say no to that. I'll be right there,” he says with all the seriousness of a wedding vow.

You fight the urge to linger, to drink in his smile with your eyes and infuse every inch of your body with it's sweetness. You force a small smile of your own and with a wiggle of your fingers, you return to your room, feeling his gaze settle on you until you close the door behind you gently.

He doesn't hear the click of the lock, and so when he heaves his own sigh of defeat, it's in the safety of his own room, between him and the busy silence of the city.

[notjustjavierpena]

Public

Main Masterpost | Series Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Written for @janaispunk ‘s 1500 kisses challenge where I had to incorporate a cheek kiss and a French kiss. This was so fun to do and made me able to do a very requested scenario! I’m pleased Jana allowed me to use hubby (even if he isn't hubby yet here)🥰 and it turned a lot more smutty than intended (not that i’m sorry)

Summary: You play the perfect part at Javier’s office party.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, established relationship, they’re so in love, domestic, banter, lots of kisses, dirty talk, praise kink, exhibitionism, clit stim, fingering

Word Count: 3.6k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56618974

Public

Work parties in your office are always a dreadful thing; ugly and over-the-top decorations on the walls, tedious conversation with people higher up than you, and terrible music that seems to be played by the worst DJ in history. That’s why you giggle, a hand covering your mouth, the first time Javier mentions that he has to go to one of these schmoozing events at the police station. Police station and party are words that do not belong together. 

Javier raises a brow as you continue giggling about it, “What’s so funny about that? You don’t want to go?”

“God, no!” You shake slightly from the laughter, reaching down to cup your mug of coffee with both hands again so it doesn’t spill. Javier looks slightly hurt by your reluctance, so you force yourself to stop snickering and tilt your head with a genuine smile, “Hey, of course, I want to go with you. For moral support at the very least. It’s just… I know exactly what you’re in for and that’s very funny.”

“Don’t remind me. I’ve endured enough so far,” Javier groans. He reaches up to run a hand over his forehead, pinching the bridge of his nose like he has a headache already. 

“You haven’t endured one with me though. I’m great,” you grin cheekily over the top of your mug, taking a sip when you earn a little smile. It’s the first party he’s going to after you started dating and it seems like a milestone in your relationship; there’s something about showing you off to the people he spends time with every day and thus involving you in his work life. It’s getting more and more serious each day. 

“You’re right about that,” he replies and you know that he is thinking the same thing. He crosses the room where you are standing against the kitchen counter in his apartment, looking so much like someone he wants to marry one day. Gently, he takes the mug from your hands and places it on the counter, only to lean in and not quite kiss you yet. He talks with his lips hovering just above yours, “If you’re so good at them… Any survival tips?”

You scrunch up your nose to look like someone having a think, constantly on the brink of a snicker when he traps you between his arms by placing his palms on the table behind you. You hum and then light up, “Oh, I’ve got plenty but the most important one is to plan an exit strategy - seriously, Javi, weren’t you in Colombia? You should know this - anyway, we need to secure a safe escape route and come up with a plausible reason to leave early. Involve me, if you like.”

Javier’s eyes soften as he looks at you. He can barely believe how fantastic you are, “¡Dios mío (My God)! And here I thought you were going to say something like ‘grin and bear it’ but you’re a woman with an evil plan.”

“Right? You think you know someone…” you lean in for a kiss that he teasingly avoids. His breath ghosts across your face and you pout from how much you want to put your lips to his and how much he doesn’t let you, “Javi.”

“I know, baby,” he tuts and bumps your noses together, “But we need an excuse for the party. Any ideas from the mastermind herself?” 

You place your forearms on his shoulders and decide to tease him right back, “Oh, I don’t know. We could just sneak out the back when no one’s looking. You could make an arrest against the back of the building.”

Javier makes a noise in the back of his throat. He tries to hold himself back, only just succeeding, “We could do that, yeah, definitely, but I think I’ll stick around a bit longer if you’re there to make it bearable.” 

“Okay okay,” you stop your teasing, “How about we stay for an hour tops, mingle to make you seem like the best colleague in the world, I’ll charm your boss’ pants off…”

“And then I’ll say we have an urgent… situation that we need to attend to,” he suggests. 

“And what would that situation be?” You smirk. 

Javier’s voice drops to a suggestive tone, “Hmm, I dunno. A personal situation that requires my full attention and… immediate care.”

You link your fingers on the back of his neck, teasing his hair there with your fingertips, “Funny. I think one of those situations might just be happening right now too.”

With that, he cannot go on any longer. He pulls you in and behind you, your coffee grows cold. 

—

The police station looks ridiculous while Javier looks nervous. It’s a contrast you want to gawk at because as far as you know, nothing seems to rattle the previous DEA agent turned sheriff of Laredo. However, social interaction in the workplace appears to be his kryptonite and with his donut-eating and domesticated lifestyle colleagues, he seems very much out of his element compared to who he tells stories about from Colombia.

“You know, you have to point out the guy I have to schmooze with. We need a signal,” you whisper close to his ear as you enter the bullpen and a few heads turn. Your hand is in his and when you squeeze it, he seems to relax a little more in his step. Your eyes scan the room for faces that might match the names you’ve heard in passing conversations. Most of them stare back with a subtle look of respect and admiration, eyeing you at first and then nodding at each other in approval. You should feel on the spot but you can barely concentrate as Javier lets go of your hand to rest his palm against the small of your back now that his confidence is slowly coming back.

“No need, he’s coming towards us right now,” he says quietly and smiles in his boss’ direction. 

“Tell me his name,” you say with a little smile of your own, “Quickly.”

“Uhh, that’s Commissioner Martin Lopez,” he manages before he receives a slap on the back from the man approaching you. 

“Peña! Glad to see you joining the festivities. Always good for moral support,” Lopez greets and gestures to the room of deputies. He is a large, square-shouldered man with a booming voice and a mustache even more impressive than your boyfriend’s. He looks like someone who laughs from his belly and you’re surprised that Javier is still standing upright after his large hand has clapped his shoulder. 

Javier is just about to introduce you but then you hold your hand out and interrupt, “Commissioner Lopez. You’re a frequent name in our conversations; Javier admires you a whole lot.”

“You should hear how much he talks about you around here, ma’am. I’ve been hearing about you all night because everyone’s itching to meet you,” Lopez replies with a huge smile. He shakes your hand which disappears inside of his huge one. 

You look briefly at Javier with a raised brow. On your back, he rubs up and down as a hidden ‘thank you’ while sporting an embarrassed smile. 

“Said too much?” Lopez questions teasingly. 

“Not at all but really? Ma’am? You’re making me sound so old, Martin,” you charm and give him a playful roll of your eyes. 

His eyes light up as you match his energy and he lets out a hearty laugh, “Apologies, miss. ‘Fraid it’s a bit of a habit. Should we expect to hear Mrs. soon?”

“Sir,” Javier tries to interrupt, horrified by the bluntness. 

“My God,” you theatrically clutch at your chest and turn to your boyfriend again, “Sheriff Peña, how much do you babble on about me here?”

Lopez holds up both his hands, seeming to love your display, “Now now, we need to let him keep some sort of authority here. Can’t be too hard on him in front of the others, so you best be off mingling. I still have a few rounds to make to make sure everyone’s enjoying themselves.”

“It’s good to see you, sir,” Javier says and earns a squeeze on his shoulder. 

“Glad to see you finally brought her,” Lopez looks in your direction and you share a smile. He turns to leave afterward, heading in the direction of a larger crowd and as he greets them, you hear his voice echo through the room. 

You turn to Javier, linking your arms around his neck and smiling at him with tenderness in your eyes, “You have nothing to worry about here. They all love you.”

“Suppose it’s nicer than some of the shit I got in Colombia,” he murmurs, staring over your shoulder as the crowd discreetly watches you embrace. He rests his hands on your hips, smoothing them around your waist until they entwine on the small of your back. You want a kiss and he pecks your lips when you make an impatient sound. 

“Much nicer,” you eventually say, twisting around to lean against his chest. Your gaze goes over the crowded room, a few smiles meeting yours, “They look at you like you’re the sun or something.”

“And you are doing fucking great, by the way,” he squeezes you in his arms, “Making friends faster than I ever did.”

You tilt your head to look up at him, your eyes meeting his, “What can I say? I’m a natural, Sheriff Peña.”

“And modest too,” he shakes his head with a fond expression. Then he leans in to kiss your cheek from behind with a tenderness that tells you how much he appreciates you being here with him, going public in front of his colleagues for the first time. It’s not a quick peck but rather a lingering, heartfelt kiss that makes your heart sing for more of his affection. You feel the warmth of his lips against your skin, and it sends a shiver down your spine. 

The room fades for the moment it goes on and when you come to your senses again, when your heartbeat has slowed down enough to notice your surroundings again, you realize the intimacy of the moment and feel the heat in your cheeks. However, you don’t let yourself feel anything negative towards it when you also come to the point that Javier Peña is not embarrassed to be affectionate with you in front of others. 

“That was nice,” you whisper as you still look up at him, feeling your cheeks hurt slightly from how much you are smiling.

He says nothing but instead just adds a quick peck to your hair. There’s no way he’ll describe this party as anything close to unbearable now. 

The night goes on after Javier reluctantly releases you from his arms. You circle the room together, all smiles and laughter, but sometimes you even separate and it doesn’t feel as frightening as you thought it would. Joke aside, maybe you are a natural. 

You end up in a group of female deputies. Julia, a woman with an impressive winged eyeliner, asks you how on Earth you caught yourself such a man and managed to hold him down. You reply with an embarrassed laugh, fidget with your dress strings on the front, and look in your boyfriend’s direction as you receive yet another compliment on him. Much to your delight, you catch a glimpse of Javier seeming to relax and enjoy himself. It makes you return to the conversation with newfound joy. 

“Honestly, he’s the one who caught me,” you say with a grin, earning a round of knowing giggles from the group, “I mean… He’s pretty hard to resist.”

“Well, the two of you make a great couple,” Julia says while the rest nods and hums. You reach up to cup your burning face, the ache in your face really hitting you.

“Not giving you a hard time, are they?” Javier interrupts and slides an arm around your waist. He catches your eye and gives you a quick, reassuring smile that makes your heart flutter.

“Just the opposite, Peña,” Julie jokes with a wink. “We’re giving her the lowdown on you.”

Javier groans playfully, “Shit, I’m doomed.”

“Better find out now than later, so I know what I’m in for,” you laugh genuinely, leaning into his side and feeling his arm tighten around you. 

“How are you feeling? Tired?” Javier checks in. 

“A little,” you falsely admit. This seems to be Javier setting the exit strategy in motion, so you go with it. 

“Do you wanna head home?” He continues, rubbing your side affectionately, “We could go back to my place.”

You hear the women make an “ooh”-sound. You nod while chewing on your bottom lip, “Yes, please.”

It doesn’t take long to say your farewells and even less time to exit the building and walk towards your car further down the street. It’s nice and cool outside, stars above you blinking occasionally. You like feeling him so close without him touching you as you walk, noticing quickly that he keeps gazing at you. 

“Why are you staring at me like that?” You look back over your shoulder as you approach the car. 

Javier is just about to reach for the keys in his pocket when he pauses. He waits a moment before striking, “It’s nothing. I just couldn’t believe how sexy you were playing the good little wife.”

You whirl around with your breath caught in your throat, your heartbeat quickening in your chest at those words. His eyes burn on your skin, an intensity in them that you can’t ever resist. You decide to say something back, “Yeah? You like me as your wife, huh? Cooking in the kitchen and cleaning the floor on my knees?”

“You don’t know what you do to me,” Javier says, his voice having dropped an octave. He steps forward and maneuvers you before you can protest until he has you firmly against the side of the car. The cool metal is nice against your electrified skin, creaking slightly as he pushes you further into the vehicle when his lips crash against yours. 

You instinctively reach up to cup his face, mouth falling open in a moan as he settles a knee between your legs. He takes the opportunity to slide his tongue past your lips, and as you respond by allowing him to practically eat from your mouth you find that he is tasting like himself so thoroughly that you can’t get close enough. 

Your hands slide up into his hair, tugging slightly as you continue kissing him so messily. He makes a noise, pushing his pelvis into yours to make you whine for him. 

“Not here,” you say without pulling back, knowing there’s no way you are stopping this. Between another string of lingering kisses, you try to protest some more, “We’re on a public road.”

“I know,” he seems to be under the same spell, velvety tongue against yours, “Spread your legs.”

“Javi,” you scold mid-kiss.

“I’m gonna put my hand underneath that dress and make you come because you deserve it,” he tells you with the kind of tone that lets you know he has already made up his mind, “And then I’ll take you home, and show you how much I appreciate you.”

Javier’s hand lays flat against your thigh, going upwards until it teases the hem of your dress. Despite the protest you have just voiced, you find yourself spreading your legs the second he slips his fingers underneath it. You don’t make it too obvious for others if they were to walk by, only just giving him the access he demands while your heartbeat takes over your whole body and your panties start to soak, “Fuck, okay. Okay.”

“Good girl,” he whispers against your lips and catches your mouth in another fervent kiss. You lay your arms on his shoulders, holding on for dear life as he makes your knees weak. He places his hand flat against your stomach and then slides it down into your panties, never once ending the kisses he is giving you. 

The second his fingers press against your slit, you breathe in sharply through your nose and moan his name softly with the result of breaking the kiss. He chuckles a little, says you’re unbelievable under his breath and goes to work on you. He doesn’t slip his fingers inside of you just yet, just strokes your cunt the way he knows you like. 

You mewl. Your eyes flutter closed, eyebrows scrunching up as you concentrate on the pleasure he is giving to you. He seems conflicted by wanting to stare at you while he touches you but then decides against it and leans in to let his lips find yours again, capturing them in another kiss that makes you dizzy even in the fresh night air. 

His fingers slide through your slick folds, two fingers finding your pulsing clit to go back and forth over it until something starts building below your belly button. You gush a little when he collects more wetness, dripping obscenely into his palm. 

“Estás tan mojada para mí (you’re so wet for me),” he praises in a whisper during the few seconds he pulls out of the kiss to get a proper mouthful of air. You grab the back of his neck and pull him back to your mouth, panting softly into him whilst nodding. 

“I know… Please,” you say breathlessly as his fingers work their magic. 

“What do you need, mi amor (my love)?” He asks against your mouth, knowing better than to break apart again. 

“More, please,” you clutch at him, the hand that’s not at the top of his spine digging its fingers into his shoulder, “Inside, baby.”

Finally, he slides his middle- and ring finger into your awaiting heat. Pretty little wife, wasn’t that what he’d called you? You clench around his digits at the idea that it will mean that he’ll make you come with his wedding ring on his finger one day. 

“What happened there?” He asks in awe, referring to the way you just choked his fingers. He curls them inside you, repeatedly hitting that perfect spot that makes you see stars. 

“Fuck,” you gasp, unable to keep kissing him, and look to the sky, “Nothing, just thinking of you as mi esposo guapo (my handsome husband).”

Javier pushes his hips forward to let you feel his hard cock against your thigh, “Watch it or I’ll fuck you right here on the street. What a mess that’ll be.” 

Those words spike your arousal. Mixed with the way he fucks you open on his fingers, your peak nears faster than normal. You partly blame it on the danger of the situation too; the excitement of maybe getting caught even if the streets are pretty much deserted at this point. 

“You like that idea, huh? That what makes my baby come?” He asks with a hint of a condescending tone. His thumb finds your clit, pressing down in tight circles while he drives you wild with his fingers in your twitching cunt. 

You shake your head but your pussy clenches again, betraying you. His snicker is dark and he speeds up his hand’s thrusts, “Then you better keep quiet for me. I don’t think you can though, can you, baby? Fuck, you are gorgeous and good for me.” 

Teetering on the edge of release, you curse yourself as you moan despite your best efforts to keep your lips zipped tightly in public. Javier’s eyes flicker with mischief and self-satisfaction and his free hand comes up to cover your mouth. He holds your gaze intensely, “That’s right. You’re so loud for me, baby. Can’t help yourself when I make you come.”

You start to tremble. He smirks, “Come for me. Right here, right now.”

With a final thrust of his fingers, you come undone, your body shuddering against him as waves of ecstasy crash over you. He catches each of your cries in the palm of his hand, successfully muffling them so no one will look out their windows to see what the racket is about. But then again, is the sheriff going to arrest himself for indecent exposure? 

When you come down, he has you mewling feebly as his fingers are still inside you, now moving gently to tease out a few aftershocks. He smiles softly at you, eyes locked onto your tired ones, and removes his hand from your mouth when you’ve calmed completely. 

“Jesus,” you chuckle and inhale sharply as he withdraws his hand from your ruined underwear. He admires the shine on his fingers underneath the moonlight, watching the way the slick coats his fingers in pearly white. You feel beyond flustered as he cleans them with his mouth, keeping his eyes fixed on yours in a hungry and obscene display. 

“You taste so good,” he licks between two fingers and reminds you of how his tongue also makes you come like no one else ever has. 

You smile lazily and lean against the car, still trying desperately to catch your breath whilst your legs shake beneath you. When you try to straighten your clothes, he bats your hand away and helps you with a gentleness that makes your heart ache for this intimacy to be forever. 

“Your place?” You ask as he straightens out a fold on your hip. The night screams for more of this, more of his hand touching you. 

“Yeah, get in the car,” he replies and unlocks the vehicle for you, “Let’s go home.”

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[moonstruckme]

Hey lovely! I saw you wanted some doctor rem requests, so I was wondering if you could possibly write something where the Remus wakes up in the middle of the night because the reader has a fever and is burning up right next to her, and he gets up and takes care of her, puts her in a cool bath to cool down and then reads to her to get her to sleep. Just a bunch of fluff haha 💕

Thank you for requesting my love !

cw: non-sexual nudity

doctor!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 834 words

It’s not uncommon for Remus to get too warm in the middle of the night. He’s always careful to flip just his part of the covers off, sticking an arm and a leg out without exposing you to the cool air. It is unusual for the heat not to be coming off of his own body.

Remus rolls over, feeling for you without opening his eyes. The temperature under the covers increases before he’s even touching you, emanating from your skin and heating the space around you. He opens his eyes. 

You’re curled up tight, one hand trapped underneath your cheek, blankets pulled up to your chin like you’re chilled instead of burning. Your brow is puckered as though you’re concentrating hard on something in your unconscious, and you don’t rouse when the bed creaks as Remus gets up. 

He plugs the drain in the tub and turns on the tap, feeling for the right temperature before leaving it to fill.

“Sweetheart.” It’s one part exhaustion and two parts love, sleep still clinging to the edges of his voice. You don’t stir in the slightest when Remus touches your shoulder, worrying in itself. 

It takes a few gentle shakes to do it, and you’re none too happy to be woken. Remus can’t help his small smile at your sleepy frown. 

“Your fever’s gotten worse,” he tells you, stroking the baby hairs at your temple. “I’m starting you a bath, okay?” 

You close your eyes, reluctant. “Can it wait ‘til morning?” 

Remus slips a hand beneath your shoulders and brushes his lips under your eye. “Afraid not, lovely girl. Do you need help getting up?” 

He has to smother a grin when you react just as he predicted, grumbling and crawling out of bed. Still, you don’t reject the arm he wraps around your waist to guide you into the bathroom. Your skin is clammy under his hand, and you lean into his side like you weigh more than you did yesterday. 

“Is your head still bothering you?” he asks while you strip out of your pajamas. 

“A little,” you say, your words soft and stuck together by drowsiness. “Not as bad as yesterday. What time s’it?” 

“It’s early yet.” Remus wraps his arms around your shoulders, kissing your nape as he encourages you closer to the tub. “We’ll go back to bed as soon as we get you cooled down. You can sleep in as late as you want.” 

“You’ll make me think I’m dreaming,” you tease. But your smile vanishes as soon as you set a toe into the bathwater. “Rem, it’s cold.” 

“I know, sweetheart.” He smiles, rueful, when you look betrayed. “Like I said, we’ve got to get your temperature down. Your body will adjust.” 

“You’re supposed to be nice to me when I’m sick,” you mutter, but take the hand he offers you to step into the tub. 

A couple of little shivers tremble through you. Remus stays, stroking the lines of your palm, until your taut muscles start to relax and you let your body unspool in the cool water. Then he goes to get you fever reducers. 

He’s not gone long, but you look as though you’ve nearly fallen asleep again in his absence. You’re curled loosely on your side, one cheek resting on the porcelain lip of the tub with your hands folded under it. The arcs of your shoulders are shiny wet, and your lashes droop as if drawn towards their other halves by magnets. 

When Remus sits on the bathmat, you raise your eyes up to his lazily. His reaction is predictable: fondness that sticks in the back of his throat and nestles into the space behind his sternum. 

“Better now?” he asks, and his voice is soft for reasons he doesn’t entirely understand. It’s an instinct, as if to protect some precious part of you that might still be slumbering. 

You hum. “A little.” 

He holds up the water and tablets. “Think you can sit up to take these?” 

Those pretty eyes roll skyward at the question, and you do, finishing the water without him needing to ask and murmuring a thanks when you’re done. Remus sets the empty cup on the floor. He dips a hand into the bathwater, cupping some and spilling it down your back. Not strictly necessary, perhaps, but it’s nice for him and you don’t seem to mind. Your eyes slip closed again. Remus follows the path of the water with his hand, coasting between your shoulder blades and down the curvature of your spine. Your skin is still warm to the touch, but he thinks there’s been some improvement. 

“Don’t fall asleep here,” he murmurs. Your eyes peel open again. “I’m just giving it a few minutes before I check your fever, and then we can go back to bed.” 

“I’m gonna sleep all tomorrow,” you sigh. 

He smiles. “If that’s what you want.” 

You hum satisfiedly. “Will you sleep in with me? Please?” 

Remus huffs a laugh. “Sure, sweetheart. Twist my arm.” 

[eggyrocks]

SEVENTY TWO WITH IWA IM BEGGING ON MY HANDS AND KNEES FOR IT ALSO HAPPY 500 YIPEEE -(🗣️Anon)

the way i was praying to fucking god that someone would request this exactly thank u so much

500 followers special: #72: “I will knock you on your ass if you even think about it.”

iwaizumi x gn reader, established relationship, use of 'baby' as a pet name, drinking & smoking, cursing, lame men, the threat of violence, not proofread

written content masterlist

There are three key mistakes that they made.

It's the same three mistakes they make every time they go out drinking, always in the same order.

First, they always order one too many rounds of shots. Whenever they're drunk enough to feel giddy and sober enough to stand upright, they always push their luck with one round that leads to another, and that leads to them crawling out of the bar when no one is looking to make their second mistake.

When there is a drag in their step and a slur in their speech, they find the nearest, painfully bright, twenty-four-hour convenience store, and they buy a fresh new pack of shiny cigarettes, and a sleek new lighter.

Which, in turn, almost always leads to their third mistake: getting lost.

They don't have the best sense of direction with a clear head. When their eyesight is blurred and their head is spinning, there is no chance of them stepping foot in the right direction. For a moment after they step out of the shop, they spin in one direction, and then another, trying to remember which one they came from.

It takes them all of one minute before they admit to hopelessness, collapsing to sit on the edge of the sidewalk, too drunk to care about the cleanliness of it.

The brightness of their phone makes them flinch, and hold the phone away from their face, trying to shield their eyes from it. "Fucking shit, Siri, for the love of god, please call Hajime."

They're a bit slow to process that the phone obeys them. They're still trying to figure out how the fuck you put the goddamn phone on speaker when he answers. Faintly, they can hear is phone on the other line. They give up, and slide their phone against their ear. "Haji," they say, drunk and whiny and frustrated, "I'm fucking lost."

He makes a noise on the other line of the phone that seems like it's a cross between reluctant amusement and frustration. "Where are you right now?"

"I don't know, I just said I'm lost," they reply, looking around their surroundings and trying to spot something that seems familiar. They twist their head back to see the shop they just bought the cigarettes from, and then perk up at the reminder that they have cigarettes in their pocket now. "I just bought some cigs at this random ass store and I don't know where the bar is or if my friends are still there."

Iwaizumi groans. "Fucking of course. Alright, listen, just stay there. I have your location on and I'll come find you."

A pout forms on their lips. "Are you mad at me?"

There's a bit of shuffling on the other end. "No, baby, I'm not mad at you. You're just kind of a dumbass sometimes."

They can't argue, so they laugh, holdinng the phone between their shoulder and their ear, as their hands tear into the packet of cigarettes. "How far away are you?" they question.

"About ten minutes," he says, voice sounding a bit further away now. "Hang up and save your battery. Call me back if anything happens and stay put."

"'Kay," they agree, words now muffled by the cigarette between their teeth. "Love you."

They wait until Iwaizumi responds, "Love you," before they're pocketing their phone once more, following his instructions to save the battery. And they wait.

It sucks. Sitting there on the sidewalk, the alcohol making them feel sloppy and messy, like their head is not on right. There's too many people on the street tonight, too. Crowds of people walk behind them, some stumbling into the same store as them for drunken snacks and hefty bottles of water. They try to people watch to pass the time, but it makes their head hurt to lift it up.

Their elbows are on their knees, and their eyes buried into the palms of their hands, lit cigarette loosely dangling from their fingers, waiting for the buzz of their phone or the sound of Iwaizumi's voice, when there's a warmth beside them.

It takes them a second to process the thigh being pressed against theirs from someone sitting too close. They know at once it's not Iwaizumi. The cologne is too strong and it makes them feel a bout of nausea.

They reluctantly lift their head to see the grinning, unfamiliar face of a man that looks just a touch less drunk than they feel. "You look way too drunk to be sitting here alone," he says in a way that seems more amused than concerned. They try to scoot away from him without him noticing. "Need help getting home?"

"No," they reply, putting all of their effort into making their voice sound clear and even. They inhale a puff of smoke and blow it out towards his face.

The stranger does not react to it, he just keeps grinning down at them. "What's your name?" he questions, unrelenting.

They just blink back at him, unwilling to provide even that.

And even then, he is still undeterred. "Okay, well, whatever your name is, I have a really good idea here. I have an Uber on the way, and you can just hop in there with me, and then come back to my place. How does that sound?"

"Fucking stupid," is their natural response. And the second it comes out of their mouth, they giggle, unable to stop themselves and aware that they are not in the right state of mind for this sort of conversation.

"Oh, come on, don't be like that," he replies, chuckling now too, as if he took their laughter as a good sign. "It'll be fun. I'll even let you sleep in one of my t-shirts."

All they can think of then is Iwaizumi, of stealing his clothes and sleeping in them for hours. The thought puts a smile on their face, and with their blurred vision getting worse, they start to lose sight of exactly where they are.

"Aw, see, look at that smile!" he says, but he feels far away, to them. "Uber's almost here. Want me to help you in?"

"I will knock you on your ass if you even think about."

His voice is clear, strong, and familiar, and it makes them shoot upright, allowing them a momentary moment of sobriety. The cigarette falls from their fingers, forgotten, as they turn to see Iwaizumi approaching, and launch to their feet.

He looks enraged, brow furrowed and a glare fixed harshly on his expression. But it's not anything they haven't seen on Iwaizumi before. It doesn't stop them as they rush towards him, arms flinging over his shoulders. "Haji!" they exclaim, ecstatic at the sight of him. "I missed you."

To his credit, Iwaizumi does take a moment to kiss the top of their head, and his arm does find its place secure around their waist, but his glare does not waiver from the man still seated on the edge of the sidewalk. "Get in your fucking Uber before I break your legs and you need help getting in, dickhead," he snarls.

The words hit their drunken ears, and they lean back from their embrace, trying to catch Iwaizumi's eye. "Are you talking to me right now?"

"No, baby, just hold on a second, alright?" he says to them. "Gotta make sure gentleman of the year here goes home on his own without fucking kidnapping someone else."

"I think you're gentleman of the year," they mumble, still holding onto his neck, and resting their head against his chest.

Iwaizumi's lip twitches, just slightly. And they're sure that there's a conversation that continues from that point, they can vaguely hear words that sound distant to them, and can feel curses rumble in Iwaizumi's chest, but all they can focus on is how nice it's going to be to go home with him. And to drink a glass of cold water. That they are really looking forward to.

Eventually, after what seems like another hour but is just an additional forty-five seconds, Iwaizumi gently pulls them to walk alongside them. Their feet stumble to follow, but it doesn't matter too much, he's holding up most of them, anyways.

"You gotta stop running away from your friends when you go out," he tells them. "I almost had to kill that guy. You'd be so upset if I had to go to jail for murder."

"Oh, is that what happened?" they slur, eyes closed and trusting Iwaizumi with every step they take. "Yeah, that'd be bad. I'd have to do a murder too so we'd be in jail together."

"Not sure it works that way."

"You're not mad at me, right?"

Iwaizumi chuckles. "No, not right now. I'll save the alcohol safety lecture for when you're hungover tomorrow."

"Awesome. So that means you'll carry me home the rest of the way, right?"

Iwaizumi sighs, as if this is some inconvenience for him. But he grins as he hooks his arm under their knees and holds them close to his chest. And they're asleep in his arms before he even clears the block.

an: DO NOT RUN AWAY FROM YOUR FRIENDS WHEN YOU'RE DRUNK. NO MATTER HOW FUN IT MAY SEEM. DO NOT DO IT.

[blackhairedjjun]

late night returns - c.yj

pairing: choi yeonjun x gn reader | genre / tropes: angst with a happy ending, actor!yeonjun x non-celebrity!reader, exes to lovers | word count: 855 | warnings: mentions of being stalked (by tabloids)

part of my 300 followers event (event masterlist)

prompt - OVER?: after a mutually reluctant (and unwanted but necessary) break-up, the sender calls/visits the receiver and tells them that they’re still in love with them. (requested by @seolis-world)

author's notes: seoli!! this ended up longer than planned, nag-enjoy ako masyado haha. your trope choice allowed me to bring out my celebrity!yj x non-celebrity!reader thoughts, which are some of my favorite hcs to think about! (also actor!yj after seeing the behind the scenes of the minisode 3 trailer haha) i hope you like this!

‘Love Like Hydrangeas’ Star Choi Yeonjun Stuns in New Red Carpet Photos “Like a Fairytale Prince”: Netizens React to Viral Photos of Choi Yeonjun

you sigh as you read the social media headlines on your phone. yeonjun does look like a fairytale prince, and you admire the embroidered details of his dark suit while zooming in on the latest batch of photos from his new movie premiere. a heaviness settles over you while you scroll through photo after photo, remembering the first time he showed you that same suit weeks before: “i look handsome, right?” he asked you, and when you said yes, he let out a soft laugh that filled your heart to bursting.

that moment in his apartment feels like a lifetime ago, and all it took was one leaked image of the two of you from a tabloid photographer making the rounds on fansites. yeonjun’s agency went overtime trying to do damage control, and it was a miracle that your identity was never revealed. but once the storm settled down, you and yeonjun sat down not in his room but at the agency office. the two of you needed to break up, you both agreed, for your safety and his 一 and with a lingering embrace and one last kiss, you left.

tears prick at your eyes and you toss the phone back to your nightstand; the clock there reads 2:16 am. you cocoon yourself in your blankets, turn to your side, and shut your eyes. you want to sleep, because at least in your dreams you can escape from reality for a little while. yet the more you wish for sleep to come to you, the more it eludes you, and the restlessness only grows worse as you turn from side to side in your bed over and over again.

buzz!

you jolt up at the sound of your apartment doorbell. you have no idea who the hell is calling for you in the middle of the night, but at least it distracts you from your restlessness.

you open the door a crack. “who’s th一”

it takes a second for you to recognize the tall man in a dark hoodie standing in front of you. the dimness makes it hard to see his figure or his features, until you realize that they look all too familiar...

you immediately you throw the door open and sink into yeonjun’s arms. you sob into his chest, your body shuddering from the force of your tears, and he holds you even more tightly as his own tears stream down his face.

“i missed you,” he says, his voice hoarse. you haven’t heard the sound of his voice in weeks, and it only makes you cry even harder.

eventually your sobs calm down to quieter tears, and when you let go of yeonjun you can still see the tear tracks running from his eyes. with your hands still in his, you tug him inside the warmth of your apartment, and there he pulls you into his embrace once more.

“how did you...” you begin, your voice muffled into his hoodie.

“i snuck out.”

“you shouldn’t have...”

yeonjun kisses the top of your head once, then twice, then again and again. his kisses are feather-light and you sigh at his touch. “i love you,” he murmurs into your hair. “i n-never stopped loving you. i don’t一 i can’t do any of this without you. i miss you so much...”

your arms are around his waist and you give it a gentle squeeze. he rubs circles down your back and you hum. his touch sends waves of calm through your body, the heaviness you once carried slowly leaving you.

you recall the red carpet photos you were just looking at and your bliss is interrupted by a million questions. does anyone else know that he’s here? what happens when his agency finds out? or when his fans find out? are you really getting back together or does he just miss you? how would you even navigate the tabloids, the endless stream of gossip? you try to bury yourself even more in yeonjun’s arms but he doesn’t miss the quickening of your heartbeat.

your thoughts are interrupted by another kiss on your head. yeonjun moves you to the foot of your bed and cradles you as you both sit there, a hand making its way through the tangle of your hair. your arms perch around his neck and you nuzzle into him.

“i’ll protect you, okay?” he says. his voice is quiet yet solemn like a prayer. “i can’t... i can’t lose you again.”

you pull away to meet his gaze and you see the same shine in his eyes that you always loved. he gazes at you with such tenderness, and behind his firm words you see the affection that underlies them. he needs you, and you need him just as much too.

“i love you too, jjunie... please don’t leave me.”

“i promise i won’t.”

you still don’t have the answers to your questions, but you’d rather leave then unanswered than have yeonjun leave you again.

[soapoet]

How they'll confess their feelings

requested by anon.

like & rb if it resonates ♡

01.

Shufflemancy: Hands to myself by Selena Gomez

This energy is very open and inviting. Your person is quite bold, and when they know what they want they show persistence, and adapt quickly to changing winds. They are not fazed by much and can weather any storm. They have a bit of a "won't take no for an answer" type of energy to them, but not the toxic kind. They may appear to you as somebody who doesn't take things seriously, or perhaps they are so direct in their affections and intentions you simply take it as something said in jest rather than the honest truth of their heart, something they'd say to just about anybody and therefore not for you to give much merit. They don't take themselves too seriously and have a very uplifting and lighthearted presence, which can so easily be assumed to go hand in hand with non-committal or even player tendencies. In reality, they simply enjoy keeping things light to assure those around them are having a good time and don't sweat the small things, which very well may stem from a childhood in which they served as a mediator or created distractions during rough times, aiming to always find silver lining to avoid dread and loss of hope in their loved ones. They are nurturing and protective by nature and do, in fact, know when to put their serious face on, and then they surprise all with their dependability and their ability to persevere, always coming out of things unscathed and even striving.

Their confession is direct, but places the ball in your court. They are good at marketing themselves and would make a great salesman by their persistence alone. They are confident, but not cocky, though they play on a little bit of arrogance for entertainment value. I'm hearing things such as "you're going to have to eat today anyway, so might as well get fancy with it", which holds that essence of boldness and persistence that I am picking up on so strongly. They show through actions what they have to offer, and whilst they will take a serious rejection, they're playfully pushy in this way where they don't expect anything other than the chance to treat you to a little something like a dinner and that way show you what they're made of. They certainly appreciate and enjoy a little game of cat and mouse to start with, so any initial reluctance from you that is less like rejection and more like a challenge for them to prove themselves to you is not only welcome but encouraged. They're somewhat traditional, but treat you like an equal. A major goal to them is to allow you to have a good time and not worry about things in their presence. There is a lot of laughter involved here as well, and you'll find yourself charmed by them effortlessly. It may be hard to actually pinpoint where exactly a confession occurred because their pursuit of you is ever-present from the start.

Additional details: new phone, swimming pools, wine, get togethers, stocks, business, airplanes, real estate, steak, gyms, football, wrestling, DJs, white sneakers, movie theatre, necklaces, bouquets, big family, cars/opening car doors, shopping, pranks, instagram, nail salons, entrepreneurship, beaches, pizza, Amazon, cruises, leisure, stand-up comedy, concerts, high-end brands, red, B/D/T/K/J, Libra/Gemini/Cancer/Leo.

02.

Shufflemancy: There till the end by JERUB

Quite jittery, restless energy. Your person is overcome with emotions leading up to this occasion, and the various scenarios they play out in their head trying to find the correct when and where and how make their stomach churn like they're spinning around in a carousel. They want to be bold, but perhaps it would be too risky, so they play it cool, or at least try to, only to find that their approach may actually be much too vague for you to catch on. This person is usually quite open with their emotions and easy to read. To their near and dear they are an open book and they pride themselves in their own ability to read others. They always try to cheer up loved ones and strangers alike, even when they aren't certain what to say or do they try their best. This person always seems to get back on their feet when they're knocked down, and their inner strength may come as a surprise to some because they look rather harmless and have a very bright energy about them, like the sun that so easily could be overcast. It is often said that the brightest smiles are on the faces of those who have known the greatest sorrows, and that appears to ring true with your person. Their optimism is a tool developed for survival, and has gotten them far in life. They often wield this optimism for others too, selflessly rallying behind others and their goals and dreams, and serve as the number one supporter tirelessly and try to make sure nobody feels left out in the cold.

In their attempt to find the balance between delicate and bold, they may find themselves so overcome and frustrated that they simply blurt it out. For some, they may opt for something silly or lighthearted, that is still direct, but does not feel as scary to them. They could confess via a game of hangman, or even write one of those "do you like me? yes/no" notes of bygone playground days and bruised knees. They are endearing, and I see that you two have much in common. There's a strong foundation of friendship, too, which may be their source of unrest as they wish not to ruin what you have. They may very well end up going on a tangent, blabbering on about their feelings nervously to fill the silence so much they don't give you the chance to speak before you shush them and put them at ease with the knowledge that it is mutual and they have no reason to fret and fluster so badly.

Additional details: video games, tabletop games, converse, Fruits basket, Sailor moon, slurpees and milkshakes, youtube, mismatched socks, animals, lofi, indie, grocery stores, parks, band t-shirts, empty playgrounds, bubblegum, mints, cemeteries, mason jars, art, guitars, cotton candy, thrift shops, fishing, bicycles, plushies, scrunchies, friendship bracelets, rodents and birds, small towns, nuggies, venting, Pisces/Leo/Aquarius/Scorpio/Sagittarius,J/V/S/L/N.

03.

Shufflemancy: When we're old by Ieva Zasimauskaitė

Oh dear. This energy feels like a neat and tidy office with loose papers thrown about. What happened here, I could ask, but you did. You happened. This person seemed content in the daily routines, their feet planted on solid ground, until suddenly their foundations were tested by a hurricane. Sweeping in and changing everything, you turned their life upside down. At first they may have been frightened, worried that you will surely be a problem. They could at first wish to solve you like a puzzle, only to find no corner pieces because you are ever-expanding, a fairytale with no end but many twists and turns and many pages still unwritten. They are perplexed, but oh so fascinated. You awaken wonder and awe in them, as though you came in to show them a peek of what's beyond the veil, far away from their mundane, solved, scientific, factual, proven reality. You inspire them, yet your words and ways challenge everything they know. They go through rapid growth triggered by you, and a lot of it not for the faint of heart. They are a rock amidst storms, a lighthouse keeper assuring safe passage for ships at sea, and have never quite known the depths of the sea and the crashing waves that you call home.

If you are observant, which many of you certainly are, you may notice the battles that take place inside their head even when they remain so calm and collected on the outside, and know long before they tell you just how they really feel about you. For many of you, they may find the circumstances iffy, the timing poor and unfortunate, but their feelings are as real and true as they are overwhelming. They experience many sleepless nights, and may argue with themselves, a court case as both the prosecutor and the defendant, whilst you seem to be the judge and jury and hold the key to the inevitable verdict. They may very well need a green light from you, but they will confess their feelings candidly, likely in a place only semi private for the sake of your comfort, thinking you need escape routes as they're convinced what they read off of you is a trick of their own mind and false hope that what they feel is mutual. They are gentle and cautious, try their best not to overstep any real or perceived boundaries between you. Though they hide a romantic behind their exterior, your first talk about something more between you can at first feel like an interview, as they wish to cover their bases and make sure they wouldn't waste your time or you theirs by having different directions and goals in the long-term, because the long-term is what they want. This group is the most likely to see fast engagements and marriage and other such milestones due to this clarity early on.

Additional details: spirituality, churches, meditation, sleep hypnosis or lucid dreaming, tarot, astrology, weddings, moving, soda and energy drinks, nostalgia, piercings and/or tattoos, hiking, travelling, community, helping, third party or recent breakups, to-do lists and planners, glasses, stress, cooking, purple, blue, gyms and sports, metal, journaling, blogs, text messages, tech, Leo/Virgo/Capricorn/Cancer/Pisces, E/T/K/H/A/S.

04.

Shufflemancy: Die for you by The Weeknd

This is very potent energy in comparison to the other piles. It is heavy and deep, almost suffocating but closer to a weighted blanket rather than true smothering. This person feels everything quite deeply and never seems to know how to express themselves or where to even put all these emotions, as though they always find themselves in aisle three struggling to hold all their items and wish they had just grabbed a basket upon entry. Their feelings for you creep in slow and steady like a predator stalking its prey from the tall grass, and before they know it they are met with great fear of abandonment and worry you will be swept up by another, worried that even if you were theirs you could do better. They may very well have history of poor relationships which ended in their demise, leaving their heart broken and full of trust issues. You may not even be aware of their insecurity as they carry themselves with confidence and are at ease with their peers, mix and mingle so effortlessly and appear so carefree. They have a lot of passion and take their work and hobbies very seriously. Their dedication to the things that matter most to them is remarkable and they have tenacity to push onwards regardless of any odds stacked against them, though their energy mostly comes in spurts and they require time to recharge or recompose themselves after all their sudden leaps and efforts. They may confuse you, as their devotion to you as an ally burns so bright, yet they seem to not make any moves to indicate that there is more to it. Perhaps this person is confused too, because for many it is possible that they once chose to not pursue love seriously due to past experiences, yet your presence is so stable and safe they want to so badly take a leap of faith in your direction.

This clash of desire and fear is not easy for them, and they go through a long period of denial from which they constantly find themselves slipping, always saying or doing something more than what your dynamic would call for, acting out the role of a partner out of their ease in your presence, then stepping back and fighting the current that threatens to wash them downstream to unknown territory, only to once again be lulled into this comfort you provide. They catch themselves daydreaming of a proper commited relationship with you often, but just as often they shake their head and wave those thought bubbles away. Their eventual confession is just as tumultuous as the feelings that reside within them. It could occur as a result of a heated argument, or at a time they are convinced you will leave them or hurt them and they simply fail to stop their outburst. Most will put it in a kiss before they put it in words, and there may be a lot of stressful and overwhelming emotions happening all at once for both of you as this strange and quite frankly exhausting push and pull dance reaches ots climax and comes to an end. This revelation fortunately provides instant relief to all this torture as though a kiss and whispered promises serve as morphine.

Additional details: lighters, vinyls, mesh, velvet, Lana Del Rey, Phoebe Bridgers, parties, drinking, shattered glass, bruises and hickeys, astrology and numerology, college, fwb, jealousy, cats, red, d&d, mass effect, social media, tinder, birthdays, plushies and figurines, kdramas, taboo, letters, poetry, reels, LED lights, therapy, pastries, Aries/Scorpio/Capricorn/Virgo, F/B/A/G/D.

05.

Shufflemancy: How you get the girl by Taylor Swift

It may take some time for this person to outright say anything, because their energy is as slow as it is steady. They don't make hasty decisions, and like to take their time to perfect all that they do and say. Despite this meticulous energy, they are quite light and airy. They may be quite critical of themselves, and always strive to do their best and measure up to their own, sometimes near impossible, standards. They are strong and independent, yet may have grown up within a lot of instability, which lead them to solidify into a rock so that turbulent times would not shake them as it did in the past. They have a dominance about them that is neither threatening or demanding. They carry themselves well and do not step on any toes as they go about their life achieving every goal they set for themselves. They try to learn to relax and live a little, and find it easier to do in good company. Their circles may be small and close-knit, as though they wish to keep their life private and managable, quality over quantity. They are incredibly loyal, and though they are difficult to get to know and rarely let down their guard, once you're in, you're truly in, and they would move mountains for you just as they do for everyone they hold close.

They may lack experience or confidence in love, for some they poured all their energy into their studies, careers, hobbies, or other relationships like family and friends, and decided not to force love. With you they feel comfortable and safe and may go out of their way to allocate time to spend with you every day, and they diligently remain at your disposal for anything at all should you need them. The foundation of trust and support they lay down over the course of many months and seasons changed before they dare confess what cards they hold so close to their chest provides promise of longevity and purpose for your relationship. They may confide in their loved ones for advice and encouragement before they come forward. Sitting there shuffling notes, getting up and pacing and wracking their brains for just the right words to say, but in the end their confession is just as light as ever. You may have felt for a long time that the two of you were practically dating, though without the official stamp of exclusivity, and this is what they may allude to in their confession. Words untold always on the tip of their tongue come out gently, but with certainty and with a firm hand for you to grab and hold on to. This occurs in a comfortable routine environment, something safe and predictable. Nothing lavish, nothing big and bold, no fireworks and marching bands. Just amidst your usual day to day, making it somehow unexpected and expected all at once, as though it was inevitable, but still surprising. Their confession may leave you in tears of relief or joy or shock, or a concoction of them all, yet this new chapter feels like freshly baked bread and a good morning text. So simple and sweet and natural in this simple brand of perfection of theirs.

Additional details: classical music, working out, family, wingman, salad, selfcare, psychology, puppies, car problems, 20 questions, countryside, eyeshadow palettes, phone calls or voice memos, LDR, school, lace, divorce, trauma, literature, lgbt+, trains, movie nights, floral, anxiety, politics, medication, doctor's appointments, news, red lipstick, green and beige, nature, baking, giggles, Attack on titan, Leo/Taurus/Libra/Pisces, Y/J/A/E/W.

06.

Shufflemancy: Call my name by Priest

This person will need some encouragement. Some sort of signal that their plane will land safely and is cleared for approach. Their energy is like contained chaos. Their mind is everywhere all at once, yet they appear at peace, relaxed, and so calm on the outside. They aren't surprised by the butterflies in their stomach, but have a tendency to enjoy them while they last without acting upon their feelings. Typically they expect these butterflies to fly away eventually, but it seems with you they've made a permanent home making their heart flutter every day, far beyond the usual expiration date. This surprises them, and makes them a little uneasy. They so often keep to themselves and don't bother others with their feelings or their needs, that they find themselves at a loss when they try to find the right words. Which is peculiar, as they seem to have such a way with them under any other circumstance. Always knowing the right thing to say, providing heartfelt guidance and insight at the drop of a hat when somebody needs it, known by their kindred spirits as both wise and witty. Yet this eloquence becomes a lost artform when it comes to expressing themselves and their feelings, and they feel embarrassed by their tongue-tied stutters and inability to string together a coherent sentence. Perhaps in their youth the key to their survival lied in becoming invisible and minimising their needs and blurring their boundaries. Now they go with the flow of life and may sometimes feel like an intangible being amongst solid mortals with beating hearts that to them sound so loud they couldn't possibly speak loud enough to be heard.

Their approach is careful, like a detective uncovering a crime clue by clue. They plant seeds and nurture them, hoping you will notice the tiny leaves which poke out from the dirt. They have perfected the art of dropping hints, and are looking for a signal that they are allowed and welcome to do and say more. Their pursuit of you can feel like a slowburn persuasion of you to say something first, like they're the puppeteer behind the scenes pulling strings in their favour so that confessing their secrets won't be so scary. You'll come to find the depth of their true feelings shocking. Once their walls come down and they show their vulnerability you will find them so sincere and sweet in their hopes and dreams for the two of you that you may find yourself teary-eyed. They come with the offer of dedication to waking up every day choosing to love you, actively, as a choice, keeping this promise like an oath. It's hard to pinpoint a confession here, as they weave a web, luring you in, coaxing it out of you first, or get close enough to the truth that there can be no doubt in either of you.

Additional details: childhood wounds, cereal, multiple tabs open, mobile games, distractions, true crime of haunted side of youtube/tiktok, horror movies, cold hands, dyed hair, Olivia Rodrigo, kpop, foxes, cats, blue birds, keys and keychains, beanies, venus flytrap, headphones, chips, broccoli, spicy food, books, wikipedia, reddit, ADD/ADHD, flannels, fairy lights, gaming setups, lightsabers, aviation, documentaries, persona games, nighttime, magic, netflix, Gemini/Cancer/Aquarius/Pisces/Sagittarius, K/P/V/Z/M.

[dairy-farmer]

Bruce comes back from being dead to Dick estranged from the family and Jason and Tim being Dami’s parents

such a twist on the usual 'bruce is lost in time trope' where jason and tim end up being damian's primary caretaker!!!!

honestly dick is a character that is often forced to shoulder and bear the burden of a lot of things. bruce dying and leaving the mantle of batman could have the potential to have pushed him over the edge and just been too much. so rather than trying to keep the family together, telling his brothers they only had each other for support- he left. it's just the final nail on the coffin for him, the straw that breaks, the request of him that is just too much.

tim and damian wake up one morning to dick's room empty and his stuff gone. all that's left is a note about how he can't do it anymore and that he's sorry but that this was never what he signed up for. this wasn't how he'd wanted his life to go, that he'd never wanted to be the person who would raise two kids when he barely had his life together. dick writes about how he knows that with bruce gone not only would gotham fall on his shoulders but damian and tim, his adopted brothers, would now be his responsibility as well and....he can't do it. he taps out because this isn't what he wants, having the bats and the "mission" be what his life revolves around isn't what he wants. he's sorry but anyone else in his shoes would do the same.

of course damian and tim's relationship is tense and not good but...now a big heaping responsibility has suddenly fallen on tim's shoulders. dick is gone and alfred has already mentally checked out because bruce is gone which makes tim the eldest person and the only person available to take care of damian. if damian gets in trouble, if he kills, if he goes back to the league- that's on him.

and that's what tim is concerned about at first. but then other things start popping up. like damian being hungry. so tim has to figure out what to feed him, how to feed him. damian needs clean clothes for school, damian needs to be registered for school, damian needs supplies for school, the school needs a number they can contact in case damian acts out and tim has no choice but to offer his own and he gets called in practically every week for one problem or another. tim has to try, he has to do a LOT now that he's the person taking care of damian.

so by forced proximity and the fact that tim genuinely has to try, their relationship smooths out. they have some bumps, some resistance from damian who was harboring some deeply hurt feelings over dick essentially abandoning them. but eventually the two of them are able to come together because they're stuck and there's no point in making things more difficult for the other.

when jason goes around killing, as the eldest and now the next prime candidate in gotham to be batman- tim has to stop him. of course jason gets a laugh out of tim and damian teaming up, makes jabs about when "goldie" is going to arrive only to go quiet when he sees the looks on their faces.

of course the three of them don't get along immediately. but jason does his own legwork and realizes dick has essentially fled the coop leaving the two youngest on their own and with tim now shouldering the responsibility of raising a child (because alfred is certainly not in the right place to do it- in fact alfred has taken his vacation time and tim is the ONLY one caring for damian) and being batman. for jason its reluctant help initially. he's not bringing over casseroles and bottles of milk- he's just occasionally checking up on them because he remembers being 17 and there's no way he would've been able to raise a kid like tim is supposed to be doing. and he's right. it's too much. tim is clearly at his wits end getting called to damian's school every other day for behavioral problems and working at WE because he's appointed himself ceo to protect bruce's legacy.

jason wonders what exactly dick had been thinking abandoning them like this it's so...uncharacteristically cruel of him. if anyone would throw themselves on a sword for their brothers jason would've thought it would be dick...

and so... jason steps in a few times much to tim's great relief. he starts spending more and more time with them because tim helps him out with information sometimes and before long jason is doing grocery runs and helping damian with his homework while tim cooks dinner and talks about how jason's best idea was telling tim to request to work from home and only going into WE once every few weeks.

by the time bruce returns they're a well oiled machine and his inquiries about where dick is only brings up some bitterness and resentment from tim and damian. and when dick DOES return after having had his mental breakdown all across europe it's to...a very distant relationship with tim and damian. things are tough and they never quite get back to the way they were, the way they could've been if he'd never left....but if dick had never left then jason would've never come into tim and damian's lives the way he did.

so if tim never sheds the habit of pressing a soft, thankful kiss to jason's cheek every morning, and if damian never quite gets into the habit of darting to bruce for help with his schoolwork or to fill out a permission slip then...no one really musters the ability to say anything about.

[wayfayrr]

hiiiiiiiii

can I have some mulled wine and a bit of Bailey's with Red Velvet to eat in please!

Thank you!!!

Order up! I hope you'll find this to your tastes <3

The first written piece of the event then!! starting off strong with one of my favourite links, wars! this was fun to write and a lovely first request to work on <3

[Event masterlist]

How much has he drank?

We were only supposed to have a couple of drinks here before heading to the room we rented upstairs. I mean Twilight did warn me beforehand that he noticed humans have a much higher tolerance than hylians do, but his can't be this much lower… can it? 

“[name]... [name] I can’t believe you’re still single you’re so - so…”

“I’m in a relationship wars, you already know that, you drunken dork.”

“You- you’re taken?”

He’s on the verge of tears, he looks so worked up that he’s driving himself to cry over this. He really is in love with me that much, I really did get lucky with him. Falling into another world really doesn’t feel as scary when you find yourself a lover even if they can get a bit clingy at times. 

“Well yeah of course I am, I’m taken by you link. We’ve been dating for a month.”

“We have..? OH, we - we-  yeah we have been!”

“Come on wars how much of a lightweight are you to forget that after just one or two drinks? It’s like you don’t even want to be with me like that.”

I - I shouldn’t have said that, even as a clear joke it looks like it’s hurt him way more than I ever wanted it to. The tears are still there but now both his lip is quivering and his fists are clenched so tight they’re bleached white which really isn't a good look when you add in the fact that he's swaying on his feet. There couldn’t be a clearer sign to get him out of here to sleep and sober up. 

“I didn’t mean that link, I was just trying to make a dumb joke without thinking, I’m sorry.”

“..!”

“I know, I know link. Come on let's get out of here.”

Hylians are so much lighter than they have any reason to be, even with him clinging to me like an absolute dead weight he weighs nothing. So while it might be a little awkward at times when he tries to pick me up, I'm more than thankful seeing as it means I can easily rest his head on my shoulder to carry him out. 

Leaving was strange though, seeing as several people started to point and get riled up. Even through his own drunkenness link managed to tilt his head just enough to look up. 

and start grinning?

He might even be blushing too, but there's no way to tell that with how flushed he is anyway. He's so smug about something, I can't help but look at him with a bit of confusion.

“We -hic- we're under the mistletoe honey, does your world not… not have mistletoe?”

“No we have mistletoe, it's got a tradition arou- oh.”

That’s why he’s cuddling up to and laughing at me, we’re standing under the mistletoe. Is it bad I’m almost nervous about kissing him like this? With all these people watching me, watching us, I just feel so unsettled. With the joke I made earlier though, it would be downright cruel to turn him down. “I’m guessing that it’s similar here then? The tradition that is… would you like me to kiss you here link?”

“Is th-that even something you need to ask? I want everyone - everyone here to know that you’re mine.”

Yes, he does. His body language is just as blatantly obvious about it too. Come on [name], you’ve kissed him before, this isn’t something new. He’s so excited too. Could you dare turn him down? Not that I needed to answer that. He decided for the both of us while I was still coming to terms with the idea, seems I was just taking too long in his eyes. 

It’s a nice kiss, not as gentle as when he’s sober but it’s still so tender. Even with the alcohol on his breath, the way he’s acting is nothing short of a clumsy display of worship. One that he seems so reluctant to end, but comes to one anyway as he’s exhausted himself not enough to pass out but enough that he’s let his head fall onto my shoulder yet again. It’s almost inconsiderate of him to expect me to carry him after a kiss like that, he knows how weak I get for him, how much I melt when he’s so tender and demanding of my focus. 

“Is that enou-enough to prove that I care?”

“Wars you didn’t need to prove that to me, I already knew that you do.”

“Wanted to prove it t’ eve’yone else too.”

It’s like he’s considering doing it again, which I wouldn’t mind, but if he does I know I’ll drop him so it’s really for the best that he at least waits till he’s sitting down, in our room preferably. He’s gotten the hint for now, but that might only be because he’s to drunk to move again. Either way I can carry him away from the crowd. 

“Why’ve you gotta do that love? There’s no chance of me ever leaving you for any of them.”

“That’s not how they saw y’... I wouldv’ killed him for how he was talkin bout you… didn’ wanna cause a sce- scene though honeybeeee…”

Link would kill someone for me? I would like to think he wouldn’t ever have a nightmare of doing that, but if he’s saying it so confidently when he’s drunk…. He wouldn’t, would he?

“You don’t need to ever kill someone for something like that, don’t stress yourself out link.”

“Already have… don’ like when they’re rude about you love…”

That made me freeze up, right when I was about to open the door. It has to be the alcohol talking. Yeah it has to be. It has to be.

@sketchyspook seeing as you asked so nicely to be tagged in every post from now on (is this an unofficial start to a taglist? I guess it is one.)

[astarionancuntnin]

Die For You (Epilogue)

summary: a year after their confrontation with the corrupted lords, a fleeting thought crosses astarion's mind as he watches you admiring the crack of dawn.

rating: E

word count: 4.5k

pairing: astarion x you (fem!reader)

cw: 18+. time skip, fluff (in my angsty fanfic? its more likely than you think!), emotional smut. full list on ao3

a/n: gods, what a ride! this was my very first long fic, and im very happy with how it turned out, considering i had NO idea how this would end up when i first started it! this ending was one of three, based on the poll yall have taken on the second chapter. i hope it lives up to your expectations and im looking forward to all the feedback! this is not my only work, if you wanna be tagged on my other works, feel free to let me know and ill add you to the tag list. thank you all for sticking along! <3

Masterlist

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You're part of the dawn where the light comes from the dark

You're a part of the morning and everything matters

And we are, an atom and a star

You're a part of the movement and everything matters

-

It has been a year since your transformation. A year since you officially died and came back as Astarion’s dark consort; his bride, his eternal love. Since the incident with the corrupted nobles, you’ve only grown stronger, as much as a vampire – and he couldn’t be more proud of you – than as a couple.

Your return among his court was gradual. You were reluctant at first: the lingering fear from the dreadful soiree you experienced still affected you, so Astarion let you watch from the shadows; he would never force you to do something you didn't want to. It's only after two more months that you asked if you could attend, and only if you could stay by his side; your social anxiety wouldn't let you be alone in a room with so many strangers without feeling as if you were asphyxiated. He was beyond thrilled by your request, as he wanted nothing more than to introduce the whole world to his beloved.

It took some more time, but you found yourself joining in on discussions with lords about the state of the city and its economic state. Your teachings were buried deep in your memory, but you retained the most important parts of them, using those to show your knowledge and bring forward ideas to save the city from its downfall following the mindflayer attack. To your surprise, you found yourself right at your place within the high society; it was in your blood after all, and what was the point of running from it when you were clearly a natural? You found out that it was never your title that you dreaded, but rather the association to your parents and contributing to their schemes — something you were glad to not be a part of anymore.

The change was almost seamless: one day you were attached to Astarion's arm, never leaving his side, and the next, you were strolling through the crowd, knowing everyone's name, their occupation, and how influential they were. While Astarion was able to persuade more nobles to ally with him, you’ve been very successful at swaying people to your advantage, using your charms and wits to redirect power from the right people for the good of the city; together, you’re considered the strongest couple in Baldur’s Gate.

You proved yourself countless times, and he was always delighted to present you as his partner.

His equal.

After yet another successful night of dancing and socialising, one where you had convinced a neighbouring lord to fund an orphanage for the children who had lost their parents in the attack, you met up with your lover in your chambers to celebrate the news. In truth, everything you accomplished was a great reason to celebrate.

To see you act with the might of a Lady, smart and witty, and use every tool you had to your advantage made him swoon over you, and one of the best ways to express it was to worship you in bed, spending hours and hours devoting himself to you.

It’s something you thought you would struggle with — the intimacy after the violence you had endured — but you found yourself easily melting in his embrace once you were back at the palace. Just like that first night you spent together and he had let you guide that dance; upon your return, he let you take control until you were the one asking for him to take you however and wherever he wanted, how you grew to crave his touch, the look in his eyes when a sinful thought was shared across your connection, and the faint blush you could spy on cheeks and ears as he painted his vision of you via your bond. The endless teasing throughout the evening sure made the meetings more interesting, and less dreadful, if you had to admit it.

After a great season of events, Astarion cancelled all his meetings for the next tenday to devote his attention to you, and you only. No one was to disturb either of you unless they had a death wish.

And the night of that last meeting, any restraints had broken down, when you almost threw yourself at each other as soon as your last visitor had left the palace. It started out in the hallways, but you were quickly brought into his room to have the privacy you required. You spent the remainder of the night in bed, switching from making love to cuddling, until you were back to straddle him for more; unable to leave the other’s side or even spend a second without your bodies touching.

He kissed each and every part of your body, showing his devotion to you in such a delicate manner that turned you to putty in his hands, embracing away any pain your body had gone through. This past year, he had been the most attentive lover; always in the moment with you, making sure that your eyes met as his hips collided with yours, sharing the same breath that united you both, body and soul. As your bodies fused and you both came undone, you could sense the love, the utter adoration he had for you. Both of you grounded the other and reminded each other that you were not the result of your past; only you chose what to make of it.

There was no one else in the world who could understand you better than each other.

It’s only when you noticed dawn approaching as you nuzzled into his chest, that you realised how long you had been indulging in the other. You chuckled and commented on how you both could use some sleep, since if one of you was tired, the other would be too, and really, how impractical it would be to have you both incapacitated at once.

He took a look at you as he lazily caressed your hair and that’s when he was reminded of the one thing that had been on his mind these last few months. The one thing he dreaded, but couldn’t avoid anymore.

“There is a way, you know…” he said, his voice soft. “To sever the bond. Between creator and consort.” He pauses as you lift your head, frowning as you meet his gaze, and for a second he doubts if he should carry on, but quickly pushes the doubts aside; you deserved to know. To have a chance to decide for yourself, without any ultimatum.

“It is mostly painless,” he continued, “You would remain as you are, a full fledged vampire, but we wouldn’t share our connection anymore; no more mental discussion, no more shared sensations.” You looked at him with a thousand questions in your eyes, as this was the last thing you expected this morning. “I am willing to go through the procedure for you, should you desire it.”

You remained silent through your blinking, until you finally found the words that fought to get out. “You would… really do that?”

This proposition felt so unlike the Astarion who once had you chained up in his dungeons, something that he had agreed had been, and you quote, ‘impolite’, since you last spoke about it. He didn’t regret it — you wouldn’t be in his arms otherwise — but he supposed there could’ve been a better way to talk to you at the reunion.

“As much as I want to keep you all to myself, I can’t bring myself to keep you bound to me after what you’ve been through. It… wouldn’t be fair for me to make that decision for you. I want you to have the chance to make the choice yourself.”

You scanned his expression, and although you saw the sincerity, you also sensed grief. Breaking your bond would sever any type of connection between you both. A part of you would die along with it, and you would lose the possibility of lingering in each other's mind. Even though you understood his intentions, it didn’t make sense for him to propose this when he finally had you to himself. Against your best judgement, you peeked into his mind, searching for an explanation, and what you found completely shattered you.

By offering this to you, Astarion understood that there was a chance you might just… leave. With nothing holding you back, linking you to him, he thought you had no reason to stay. That the sole reason keeping you here was this bond, and even with how close you had become, how much you had grown together in your relationship, how utterly in love you were — in that moment, under all the false confidence, you saw right through him; he was convinced that once the bond was broken, you would leave. Run away from this mess that had been life at his side, and find someone who truly deserved you, saw you for your worth. That you could only degrade yourself if you stayed after what he had put you through. He didn’t believe for a second that you would continue to put up with this life if you had the choice, and yet, here he was proposing it to you, offering you this way out.

You gave him a soft smile, a reassuring one that you hoped carried the intention you had.

“I… would like that.” He nodded, understanding that this was a possibility, and he hoped you would take this opportunity, if only for your own sake, but it didn't hurt any less. “But I do have a condition.”

He smiled sadly, his features softening at hearing you bargaining, a bittersweet reminder of how all of this started. “Anything for you, my dear.”

It’s the warmth of the sun’s embrace that stirs Astarion awake this morning. Gods, he will never tire of it. If only for this reason, his ascension was well worth it, and no one will ever convince him otherwise.

You let your minds connect, telling him your request through your bond, and when you saw the light sparkle in his ruby eyes and his face light up, you knew there was nothing in the world he would like more.

-

That, and seeing his reflection again. He's lost count of the times he spent admiring himself; pausing at every mirror he had meticulously installed around the palace, stealing glances at his reflection, and lingering at the colour of his deep ruby eyes. Those same eyes that had sealed the fate of so many unfortunate souls; these deadly, beautiful weapons, that keep helping him charm the right people. How he went two hundred years without enjoying the sight of himself has him completely astounded. Needless to say, this was an issue no more, and long gone were the days of misery; Nearly two years later, he had everything he ever wanted, at long last.

Everything, and yet his most prized possession remained this little human fighter turned bride.

Really, the only person he ever truly wanted, that he ever loved, even. A feeling that had felt most foreign once upon a time. He never thought he could experience such a strong emotion, something that was forbidden to him just over three years ago — something he would’ve considered a weakness — turned into his greatest strength. A feeling that overwhelmed him to the point where he couldn’t restrain himself from physically expressing it; taking his dark consort in every room, every surface of the palace, until they were both panting, eyes half-lidded and lost in one another. That same feeling that would now have him chanting out her name all night long as he devoted himself to her; her body, her pleasure, her desire for him. How utterly blessed he was to have her just as enamoured for him as he was for her.

As he finally awakens from his reverie, he quickly picks up on the empty spot next to him. Curious, he thinks, she was never the early bird. When he lifts himself on his elbows, that's when he sees her on his balcony, and he takes the time to admire her; his consort, his love, still by his side through it all, blessed by the rising sun’s warmth. It took over a year more after their engagement, as Astarion couldn’t believe her decision to stay, but he finally got over the fear of losing her. After everything that had happened, and the opportunity she was given, she chose to stay and have a life with him. After everything, she still loved him just as deeply, and that day at the altar, she promised to spend the rest of her undead life showing him just how much she did love him.

Content with the sight of her, he finally gets up to join her on the balcony, without bothering to dress up. He sneaks up on her, snuggling her from behind, his hands wrapping around her waist, while he leaves playful kisses along her neck and shoulder to greet her.

“Mmmh, hello my treasure,” he murmurs in the crook of her neck. “Can’t sleep?”

“I was just admiring the sun,” she hums. “It’s funny, I never really bothered to appreciate it until I thought I could never be under its light,” she takes a deep breath as she closes her eyes, taking in the warmth she was basking in. “I never quite realised how beautiful this world is.”

She sighs in his embrace, but it's almost a moan, as she pushes back against him for more contact, “I didn’t think I would disturb you from your precious beauty sleep.”

He can hear her smile through her mumbling, and he smiles in return, “It’s your sleep I’m rather worried about dear.” His kisses linger on her neck, over the bite marks he birthed upon her skin an eternity ago. “And I think you should join me back in bed to remedy it.”

She laughs, “I’m not sure your idea of rest coincides with mine,” she turns around to face him and rests her hands on his bare chest. “Actually, I rather believe you will wear me out more than anything.”

He smirks as he presses her against the edge of the balcony, lifting her nightgown up before propping her up to rest atop it, guiding her legs to wrap around him. “Do you really think so little of me? That I would drag you to bed only to satisfy my carnal desires?”

“Well,” she rolls her eyes as she smiles, “you haven’t given me a reason that proves you would do otherwise.”

She wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him closer to her, and in the same movement, he wraps his arms around her waist and leans into the nape of her neck, resuming his sweet attention. When his smile widens, he feels the creases in his cheeks, depicting the countless moments of happiness she brought him since she has blessed him with her company.

“I assure you, my love, my intentions were most pure,” he purrs.

She tilts her head aside, offering him more liberties with her neck. “Were they now? Well, if you say so, then I’m sure I can trust you to carry me to bed where I shall resume my rest.”

“Ah, but I’m afraid the offer has expired. You see,” his finger hooks the string of her nightgown, pulling it down, “now, all I can offer,” he pulls down the other one, revealing your breasts to the morning breeze, “is a morning spent fulfilling our matrimonial duties.” “Matrimonial duties?” She exclaims ironically. “What unholy thoughts have you got in mind, I wonder.”

“I could show you, if you would indulge me,” his kisses over her skin become sloppy, his teeth softly grazing her skin while his tongue leaves a faint trail of saliva from her shoulder up to her ear, playfully nibbling it, while one hand reaches for her breast and the other finds its way in the heat between her legs.

“Ah– Astarion…” Her playful tone is replaced by soft moans as he takes a salacious pleasure in touching her in her most sensitive spots.

“What’s that, dear?” His fingers slide against her folds, not yet daring to dip further.

She groans, “You are incorrigible.”

“And yet, I don’t hear you asking me to stop,” he pinches her nipple between his fingers with the hand massaging her generous chest, while his other hand brushes over her clit, lingering near her entrance but intentionally avoiding it. As he hears her ragged breath, he pulls away, cutting any contact between the two of them, and languidly sucks on his fingers to taste her wetness, while his gaze focuses on her, before releasing his fingers with a pop. He tilts his head, with a playful look in his eyes, “Unless that’s what you want?”

She looks at him with lust clouding her vision, barely containing herself, “If you intend on teasing me, my lord, I hope you know what you’ve got coming for you.”

He leans back, assessing the vision of his consort completely lost in her need for him, with a salacious smile tugging at his lips, “My, my, is my little love threatening me?”

“Oh no,” her hands sneak into his hair to grab a handful of it before lightly pulling back and leaning into his ear, murmuring, “This is a promise.”

She lets go of his hair, leaving her hands wandering, and when their eyes meet again, they are darkened by their shared passion for each other. His voice comes out deeper, as he closes the distance between them, their lips now but a whisper apart.

“Then I believe I should make haste to tend to your needs, my lady.”

Their lips finally meet into a passionate kiss, the tenderness of it even surprising Astarion — considering the eager tone she had previously used — but he melts into it, pouring all of his longing into the kiss, just as she does when her hands pull back to hold his face closer. He picks her up from the edge of the balcony and carries her back into their room, where he lays her out on their bed and removes her nightgown, slowly unravelling her soft skin to the morning afterglow. The sight of her, bare before him — only for him; with her legs parted and inviting him in, her body bearing only the bite marks he had given her — is enough to break any restraints left in him. He couldn’t bear to tease her longer, he needed her as much as she needed him.

Licking his lips, he kneels at the end of the bed, crawling his way up to his wife. He lifts her leg over his shoulder, leaving a trail of kisses up to the apex of her thighs, until he reaches the centre of his desire. He breathes her in, the scent of her pleasure stirring something deep within him, before his tongue finds its way between her slick folds, where he finally licks her, from the bottom of her entrance right up to her clit.

She moans softly, already lost to the magic of his tongue, and that's when he lifts her thighs over his shoulders, locking her legs around him, and holding them in place to feast on his meal.

His tongue dives into her, reaching into the depth of her cunt and drinking in her nectar, the effects of it visibly affecting him, as his hardened cock throbs between his belly and the soft sheets of the bed. His hips move unconsciously, searching for a temporary relief as he moves his tongue out of her to lick his way back up, where he finds her swollen bud.

While his hand sneaks away from her thighs, into her dripping entrance, his eyes flick up to find her unravelling before him; her head thrown back, and her hands grabbing at the sheets, holding on for dear life.

“Gods, please…” she begs, her breathing failing her, and he smiles between her legs, as he pumps two fingers into her.

With a final flick of his tongue over her clit, he lifts his head up, still hitting that sweet spot inside of her, “Yes, little love?”

“I… I need you— gods, I need you.”

“You have me, my love,” he says, his voice soft like velvet. “All of me, however you wish.”

He knew what she meant, but he wanted to hear her say it. He would never tire of having her melt under his touch, coming apart under him.

“Inside me,” she whimpers as she clenches around his fingers working wonders inside of her. “Now.”

The urgency of her tone was clearly noticeable, but Astarion wants to push her further, “But I am inside you, my dear.”

She lifts herself up on her elbows, her hair completely dishevelled and her chest rising with each deep breath, staring down her husband with a mix of fury and lust. “If you don’t fuck me right this instant— Ahhh ffffuck!”

While she was talking, Astarion went back to teasing her sensitive bud and accelerating the pace of his fingers thrusting in. “Oh, I’ll fuck you alright. By the time I'm done with your delicious cunt, you’ll only see stars, my sweet.”

He could easily make her go over the edge only with his mouth and his fingers; he had done it countless times in the past already, he was well aware of his abilities, but nothing compared to the feeling of her tightening around his cock and milking him dry while he pumped every drop of his seed into her. It was his favourite way to come with her, and he took great pleasure in making her shatter in every way imaginable. They had all the time in the world to discover the many ways she would cum under his touch.

“Mmh ahh— Pleasepleaseplease Astarion, I want to feel you inside of me, I’m begging you—” Her words get lost in her throat, instead replaced by cries as she nears her climax, until—

“Ah,” Astarion pulls away completely, “but how could I deny my lovely wife when she begs so beautifully.”

Her groans turn into small cries as his teasing starts to overwhelm her, and that’s when he drops her legs down on their bed and crawls over her, aligning himself with her swollen pussy, before linking their hands together to pin her down. He leans down and stops right before kissing her, simply to push her to the limits of her patience, and when she hisses at him for being just out of reach, he shoves his cock inside of her, stilling her.

He remains unmoving, always taking his time with his first thrust to take in the feelings of her tight walls, pulsing around him. Astarion rests his forehead on hers, their eyes lost in the other, carrying the words they had learned to communicate aloud after they had broken their bond.

Carrying on with this ritual had pushed them to communicate better and work on their relationship, creating a new type of bond with the other. They had learned to understand the other’s body language so well that sometimes, a simple look was enough to communicate their exact thoughts from across the room.

His fingers dig into the mattress as he tightens his hold on her, and he resumes his languid strokes, “Focus darling. I want to see every little expression you make while I fuck you. Can you do that for me?”

She tries to nod, but his depraved speech only pushes her further and faster to her climax, as she fights to keep her eyes open and focused on him.

When he feels her cunt’s grip thighten around him, he can barely contain himself anymore, “Fuck, just like that, love,” his groans and the wet sound of their hips slapping against each other gets only louder as he accelerates the pace, nearing his own climax, “Gods, you’re so tight around me— I’m gonna fill you up to the brim, and you’re gonna take it all like the good girl you are.”

A few more thrusts is all it takes to send her over the edge, screaming out as her climax erupts through her like electricity flowing through her veins, followed quickly by Astarion who stills inside of her, shooting thick ropes of come that leak out from her, into their bedsheets. It was the least of his worries right now — he could always change them later, but they would be ruined in the following hour regardless.

They both remain panting, basking in the bliss of this aftermath, until he takes a look at their hands still intertwined. On her right hand, he spies the sparkling diamond ring adorning her finger, the public display of their unison matching his own, and he brings it to his lips for a brief kiss, before taking the time to admire it, thinking back to how it all started.

“I told you, Lady Ancunín suits you beautifully, my love.”

She smiles sweetly, eyes tired from their lovemaking, “I wouldn't have it any other way.”

And he knew she spoke the truth. Their marriage didn't only solidify their relationship, but it protected her from solicitors who might've been tempted to try giving her advances after the news of Virric's death had been propagated, and by taking Astarion's last name, she was free from any remaining links to her family, a name she detached herself from completely years ago already, now legally unbinded.

She didn't even need to explain the extent of her reasoning; the second she proposed, Astarion was on his way to commission matching rings for them. Truth be told, he had wanted to make the proposal himself, but after knowing of her past with Virric, he didn’t dare bring it up first. She did give him the chance to announce the news at their next soiree, and it's the only thing he had spoken about that evening.

They would be Aeterna Amantes. Lovers forever, until the world burns down.

Gods know that he would burn the world down himself if she merely asked — not that she would ever, he knew her better than that — and she was the only one he would ever get on his knees for.

She was the goddess who finally answered his prayers that had gone unanswered all these years ago; the sun that made him feel alive once more; the brightest star that guided him throughout the night; the very reason he decided to live on, and yet, if it came to it, he knew he would die for her.

-

Pars avant l'aube

Quand la lumière veut nous voir

Quelque part dans le monde

Un oiseau s'endort sans bruit

Toi et moi

Dans la nuit on trouvera

Quelque part où déposer

Les fleurs qu'on a cueillies

Thank you for reading! Comments, reblogs, and likes are very much appreciated <3

tag list (comment or message me if you want to be added!): @grimistheangerinmystares @silverfangmarks @roguishcat @nyx-knox @anacdoce @jwera @annnagennnie @angeldarkness95 @marlowethebard @hellethil @frankie-mercury @ariajc79

[shinjisdone]

Ticking Springs

(A Yandere Pinocchio X fem!Reader fic from Lies of P)

Pɑɾt 1; Sluɱbeɾ

capitolo uno

capitolo due

capitolo tre

capitolo quattro

capitolo cinque

capitolo sei: is here

Capitolo sette

Capitolo otto

Capitolo nove

Capitolo dieci

Pɑɾt 2; Awɑƙeƞiƞƍ

It was a privilege to share the same blood as Giuseppe Geppetto. To be his family, his niece and take part in the marvelous worlds of puppets. The privilege to learn from him as his apprentice. The privilege to care for the things he cares for and to have the things he cares for, care deeply for you.

Tag List:

@greeknerd007 , @mitsureigen , @kame11a , @thirdblogsacharm , @sarah22447 , @blueberryhitosh1 , @written1nthest4rs , @huicitawrites

TW in general: Yandere behaviour, creepy and still puppet, dubious intentions and relationship, still in WIP more warnings may occure in time, also I am running out of pictures of P he looks the same in every pic (but prettily so) and so im gonna end up using the uh same ones prbly

[TW for this one specifically include: Demeaning uncle Geppetto, mentions of grief, signs of overworking mentioned, blood, wounds and crying, anxiety, puppet going aray]

[Also, I am gonna be like that and mention that I would not mind any comments or reblogs! This series is definitely gonna have short chapters and is currently building up settings but there's gonna be good ol yandere Pinocchio tailing after you like a puppy afterwards, no worries!]

The wrench bent on contact with the floor.

It was mere and old wood but the throw was aggressive enough to leave the tool useless. It was one of many. One he could easily snatch from the Workshop Union from.

Damn these halfwits.

He was not expecting a call from them. They were just as naive and cocky as the Workshop Union, and their glorious, genius breakthroughs.

With a grunt he picked up the tool before carelessly throwing it into a metal bucket. One on the far right corner and one far too familiar.

A heavy and frustrated sigh escaped him.

"Oh, son," Removing one glove, his fingers ran down his sweaty face, "It's always the same with them." Just as briskly as he sat down, Geppetto got up from the chair just as fast. His voice tired but still holding onto bitterness. "Stealing my time meant for you."

Brown eyes tiredly wandered up the motionless figure sitting on the blood-red armchair. The fabric untouched while surrounded by tools and oil, material that fell off shelves left on the floor. The pads were full and soft, so heavenly soft as it seemed - only the best for him even if he was not awake yet. Nevertheless, the sight irked him, from the unfinished touches of the skin up to the missing arm. It couldn't be any arm and so Geppetto had to wait and wait and wait for the material to be stocked again and again.

Progress was thriving at top speed but it didn't seem like that to him. All was too slow. Everybody was too tardy.

The flick of the light was fast but reluctant and as he looked outside, a scoff escaped him. Another long, long night but a dry one at that at least. Krat's cloudless nightsky the only relief he could feel.

Eyes mustered the nervous smile on your lips. Shoulders up to your ears and a little list in your hands - the man's hand absent-mindedly went to his mustache as he offered a smile to the lady before his eyes met yours again. With a nod, you were the next one in line.

The man rose his eyebrows and tilted his melon hat for a moment. You briefly scanned the list in your hands. "Baby blue fabric...made out of cotton, please?" "We certainly have that." Answered the man, "How long? Width and thickness?"

"Oh," You gave the measurements written on the paper and the clerk gestured you to follow. His other hand pointed on the hallway to the left. "Cherry." You turned your head as you tried to keep up, only to see a short puppet appear from the hallway, wearing the same melon hat as the man - only with a small ribbon at the side. Leading you to the back and taking out a roll of the cloth you requested, the man first showed it to you. 'Cherry' in the meantime rose its two hands, which consisted of a scissor and a measuring tape. Yet the clerk stopped it, before looking back to you. "I will let you know, young lady...100% cotton is expensive and we at Tailorshop Cherry never deliver anything other than superb quality."

He could see the hesitance in your face and took another roll of the wall. "60% cotton. Here, feel it." So you do, fingers gliding over the different fabric and as your eyes dart between the two rolls. The clerk eyed you with raised brows and it was almost like the puppet did, too.

You sucked in air. "...Perhaps 100% cotton would be better?" Making a face, the man sucked in air himself. "Can you even afford this, young lady?" He rolled the cloth up, "The measures you request for seem like that of an toddler. I've had...gentlemen pay the same sum to ask for their darlings hand."

"It's fine!"

"It is fine..." You repeated softer, "I am aware that this tailor is known for its quality...but I do know what I want." You pointed at the blue cloth. "This one would be just perfect."

The consequences were clear to you...but finances were the least of your worries. Your eyes throughouly stared at the roll, before looking up at the man and nodding your head firmly once more. Maybe you were too dead set on doing this and all of this might bite you later...it all depended on your uncle. Just musing about it made you deflate a bit. Perhaps it is the age, the stress, the work...but he has been more agitated since you last saw him - before your visit, before you moved here.

Or perhaps it was grief.

Eyes glanced to the side before looking back. "Well then, here you go." Feigning a smile, you took the package, one as big as your torso. You didn't like to think about it. "Cherry will stamp you a card. At the third purchase, 15% off!" It was too long ago. Or not, maybe even. "Thank you for purchasing from Tailorshop Cherry!" The puppet's hand brought out a stamp, punching a cherry-shaped hole on the pink card. It's voice softer and higher than that of the baker. You smiled and bowed before leaving.

Distracting oneself is easy. Either with your own life or with puppets.

A shaky gasp escaped you before the shrill echoes of inserructions neared. Your knees fell to the floor, the card long abandonded on the sullied ground as you clenched your hand to your chest with a high scream. The nearby customers congegrated around you but the salesman was quick to be the first one knelled at your side. Your ears felt about to burst - from the sounds of your crying to the panic of the people and the non-stop imploration of the man. The puppet seemed to speak, somewhere in the shop, for the first time since you entered.

"15% off!"

"15% off!"

"15% off!"

You cried and hissed as the shopkeep forcefully took your hand away from your grasp. Though he begged and begged to at least see, you were sure as hell from the pain that there was too much blood.

Somehow, somewhere feet scrambled and you heard sirens soon after. Before anyone could barge through the door, the man held you by the shoulders as he and others tried to stop the bleeding - begging and begging to not utter the name Tailorshop Cherry.

The sound of stomping in the air as well as revolted murmurs resounded still.

"15% off!"

The stitches and bandages were done with. A woman offered you a handkerchief to dry your tears. Though it was all awfully sweet, the mention of having been lucky that the puppet's clutches did not move any closer to your bone was one you immediately tried to force out of your head.

The card was left there on the shopfloor, its cherry pink color tainted red.

Jumping, you halted before your feet stepped on another pair. The door threw itself shut harsher and louder than anticipated and trying to save face, you quickly stepped to the side. Geppetto continued where he was left off - putting on his coat.

He glimpsed at you from the side, back hunched as he let one arm crawl into the sleeve as he did the other. You bit your lip and avoided his gaze before taking a step back. The wind picked up by the time you came back to the workshop and howled against the door. It creaked slightly.

The older man reached for his hat, "And where were you, young lady?" Finally he fully turned to you, though his eyes were still narrowed. "Out." You quickly but meekly let out and played with a loose wrapping end of the package. "As I told you, Uncle."

"I wasn't aware you'd be out this long." He looked for an umbrella, just in case, but kept his tone flat while speaking. "I don't like it when you are out for that long. Especially as such a young girl as yourself."

"I," You licked your lips after the small stutter, "I wanted to get back by dinner." "Dinner." Geppetto sighed, "Oh. Right, dinner." His hectic movements halted; before he began to button up his coat calmly. Eyes scanned the hallway and turned to you. "Be a dear and order food. Sandwiches or, or pasta. No, actually get something that can be eaten cold." You took a step closer, "Won't you have a bite before you leave? It's late and I am sure you're hungry. Besides, the weather's getting awful."

"The better it is that I leave now." Taking a small, old umbrella he finally found, Geppetto opened the door and took a step outside - but not before looking at you. "Order some food, dear, I'll be sure to enjoy it after I come back. And..." Brown eyes narrowed as he slightly leaned closer. The man scrunched up his nose.

"What happened to you, (Name)?" His eyes flickered to your limp hand. You mimicked his movements but tried to hide the bandaged hand under the parcel anyway.

"...Uncle, today afternoon..."

"Ah, you are fine though now, aren't you?" Geppetto failed to see the frown on your face the moment he mentioned the injury. Instead, he patted his collar down. "We'll talk about this later but this is what happens to children staying out after dark. You don't see how you get hurt."

Again, you tried to gather courage to speak your mind, just a word, a mere objection to his ridicilous and childish assumptions-

"...Go to bed early, (Name). You already have a few dark circles under your eyes, unbecoming of a young lady."

The door was shut close. A strong gale blew into the workshop briefly, leaving a shudder down your spine.

The frown stayed on your face. Still, the parcel had to be stored into your room sooner or later, and it was best done sooner judging from your uncle's mood. Adjusting your grip, as it started to slip out of your clutch, you slowly went up the stairs while having a hard time taking your eyes off the door.

Eyes stayed trained on the needle and the fabric, as well as your fingers, as the sewing machine diligently worked away. Although you held both machinery and fabric rather awkwardly with the side of your hand, the sure progress melted your sadness away, bit by bit.

Your wallet may have not suffered today for you got the fabric graciously for free, but your limb surely did.

The puppet did not really puncture your thumb, the emergency responder said. Still, the injury was deep enough to be treated with stitches and bandages...and a few painkillers, possibly. It kept you on wiping your tears.

The mechanical cadence would stop as you shift and lay the fabric in different directions, cut off unneeded material while avoiding to accidentally stab out your own eyes with the scissor whenever you rubbed them. The experience today was scary enough but despite it, you did not want to stop now.

Forcing yourself to take one more sip of your drink, you cleared your throat. Eyelids feeling heavier.

A puppet wasn't supposed to do that.

No puppet was ever meant to harm another, human or mechanical fellow alike. Even if it was a mere accident - this 'Cherry' should have sensed your flesh being too close to its brackets and it not having targeted the card correctly.

On top of that, echoing its master's words like a madman if you recalled right.

Uncle Geppetto had to know. Even if he would still be too busy to listen, you'd have to let him know.

"...I know you..."

You frowned as the machine begun again. Your voice barely reached the same volume as this old thing...neither did your sniffles.

"...I don't feeling like singing that one." Mumbles reaching no one but yourself. Once again, you sniffled and cleared your throat, focusing on the task at hand.

"...When you wish upon a star..."

Lone words entered the lone room. Sitting up straighter made you feel more focused, more awake. Here, in the moment and aware that this trivial task meant change for you.

"...Makes no difference who you are..."

The machine continued flawlessly despite its age. You even found yourself singing while it conducted its own cadence, no matter if both tunes melodically weaved in together or not.

It was about the feeling. About the action.

It was about being heard even if your only audience was yourself.

Yet it was not. It never was.

"...Anything your heart desires..."

Behind the many walls, down the turning and winding stairs and straight through the locked door, were sounds emitting and attempting to mimick your own.

The rattling was resounding from the underground and offering its own melody in hopes it will join and align with yours.

Though it sung in high and longing tunes when picking up the sound of your sniffles.

Naive, little thing that you were, you did not hear it over your own whimsical fantasies.

"...Will come to you..."

[tpwkwriter]

could u pls pls do one where anxious reader calls harry having a panic attack but its from his pov and kinda tells how it worries him that shes like that and would do anything for her????

First off thank you for the request! How cute would Harry be omg<3

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, panic attacks, worries, slight cursing and mentions of lot ending 😭

————————‘Half the world away’———————

As ‘love on tour’ was halting to an end a lot more of Harry’s time was being taken up, perfecting each rehearsal, each song, making sure each outfit was correct, putting the band to practice, these next few days were gonna be hectic no doubt, and with LOT coming to an end Harry wanted to ensure it had a bloody good send off.

However balancing work, fame and a relationship could be tricky. Y/n has such an amazing sense of understanding and patience Harry wasn’t sure she was real, whenever Harry would be out late or have to leave for periods of time y/n would always put a brave face on and late him go no matter how reluctant she was.

It was a hot July in Italy, Harry had rented out a gorgeous luxury b&b for there stay, the plan was to stay out in Italy after the tour to finally bask in some quality time under the Italian sunshine.

Y/n knew Harry loved his job, despite the judgemental public, the paparazzi, and certain interviewers he loved his job, and seeing her love celebrate his winnings and travel the world preforming to thousands and millions each night was truly a sight to y/n’s eyes.

However sometimes y/n just wanted her Harry to herself, she hated how selfish that sounded but it was true, she often wanted mornings just to themselves or evenings where they could cuddle up in there bed, but with Harry’s tight schedule this rarely happened at the moment.

“Baby v’gotta go” Harry quietly told y/n who still lay on the bed.

“M’kay” she hummed.

“Y’alrigh?” Harry asked.

“Mmm”

“I’ll be back for lunch alrigh?” He says softly smiling, seeing there clearly was something up.

“Okay”

‘She might just be sleepy’ he thought to himself.

“Okay baby, I love you” he said leaning down to kiss her forehead.

“Mm, love you” she said closing her eyes after his lips left her body.

It was safe to say he left feeling like an absolute arsehole, she was clearly not happy or her usual self and he couldn’t out his finger on why.

————Harry’s pov————

The instrumental to ‘music for a sushi restaurant’ blared through the speakers of the empty arena, nothing went right this morning, this was the 3rd try of trying to get through ‘MFASR’ without a technical difficulty.

“Fuck sake” I muttered under my breath after the 4th time of the sound not working.

“Harry let’s take a break, sounds gone bust” Mitch said from my side, while taking his guitar off.

“Yeah yeah” I mumbled.

The last show of the entire tour was slowly approaching and I want this show to be my best, as a thank you from me to everyone who’s ever attended my shows and a goodbye for a while, it was a bittersweet moment.

Backstage of the arena I saw the loveband sit on sofas and vanity desks al sat around having conversations about his knows what.

“Harry don’t be so stressed man” Pauli called as soon as I walked in.

“M’trying mate” I smiled, plopping down on the empty seat next to nyoh.

“I want this show to be good” I stressed.

“And it will be, and even if something goes wrong we can laugh about it” Mitch pipes up from the corner.

“Your fans wouldn’t care H, there definitely bright people” nyoh adds

“Mmm” I hum, suppose they are right.

“I’m just, I don’t know, worried about y/n”

“Y/n?” Pauli asks concern on all the members face now, y/n was practically a little sister to them.

“I thinks she’s mad at me pauli, no idea what I’ve done” I calmly state putting my head in my hands.

“You Need to check on her Harry” nyoh warns

“It’s Not an Easy Lifestyle sometimes” she adds.

“I know I know, she shrugs my questions off, I know somethings not right”

“Harry! Where’s Harry!” We suddenly heard.

“Sarah?” Mitch called opening the door.

“Harry” she continues, while making a direct beeline for me

“Harry it’s y/n” she claims hastily passing me her phone which happens to be a call.

“Y/n?” I whisper before taking the phone from her hand.

“Harry?” I hear a familiar sniffle, fuck.

“Baby, Baby it’s me shit what’s happening” I immediately ask as I go an excuse my self from the rest of the band and shut myself into the dressing room.

“Baby I need you to breathe what’s going on hmm?” I ask trying to keep my voice quiet and calm.

All I can hear from the line is sniffles and quick breathing from my girl, my minds made up.

“Give me 5 minutes tops and I’ll be with you my love fuck I’m coming, I love you and stay exactly where you are”

With a quick confirmation of “ok” I swiftly hang up and pass Sarah’s phone back and explain what’s going on and run out of the door.

—————————

Harry wastes no time getting into the rented house, searching top to bottom of where she could be, luckily there shared en-suite was open.

Harry entered the room the see his y/n sitting in the shower with just a top and his boxers on.

‘Fuck this was a panic attack’ he knew this because the feel of cold water normally helped regulate the girls feelings.

“Oh baby” he’s fast to throw his jacket on the floor and toe his shoes off and join her, he switches the shower off and sits next to her leaning his head against the glass shower wall.

“Darling” he said wrapping his arm over her shoulder.

Immediately she fell into him, she moved herself to sit on his lap and bury her face into his chest and made herself as small as she could on his lap, he put one arm around her head as he leaned his chin on top of her head and the other arm around her legs almost holding her as if she was a baby.

“I feel silly” she breathily mumbled.

“No, absolutely no need too” he said into her hair, pressing a kiss there too.

“I miss you Harry” she honestly admitted.

“Baby-“

“I really can’t go without you” she cries, causing him to hold her even tighter.

It had just clicked in his head what’s going on, he hasn’t been very attentive these few days, he admittedly had been prioritising work, a flood of guilt and shame filled his veins.

“Fuck, fuck. fuck” he mutters

“Baby im so fucking sorry fuck” he says, truly meaning every word he said.

“You don’t know how much you mean to me, you mean the fucking world to me, I love you so fucking much it hurts me baby fuck” he says voice cracking towards the end.

That’s all y/n wanted to hear, she wasn’t often insecure or upset but she now knows she really can’t go without Harry.

“I love you Harry, M’sorry” she says more tears falling at the idea of her making him feel shitty.

“Got nothing to be sorry for, fuck”

“After this tour, m’all yours I’ll always be yours, your stuck with me love, we can go away, we can go home, absolutely anything fuck, as-long as I’m with you” he pleaded, now pressing kisses all over the girls head.

“I like that, I like a lot” she nods.

“M’sorry H I’m never normally this, clingy or crazy but, I miss you I miss your arms, and scent, having meals together, feeling you close to me” she admits absolutely emotional now.

“Hey, hey, darling y’gonna breathe for me hey?” He said pushing his fingers on her chin so she can look up him.

They then started breathing slowly together, and endured a moment of silence, nearly forgetting they where they were.

“Think we needed this” she mumbled.

“Mmm me too lovie”

“Y’ready to get out hmm? We can get comfy and into bed for a while” he adds

“What about rehearsals?”

“Fuck em we got all week”

A smirk formed on the girls lips after he said that.

“All mine, mine mine mine” the girl whined pressing further into his chest.

“That y’are, I’d do anything for you love, shit, I love you so bloody much”

——————————————————————————

Hope this is okay!

[aliens8n]

Nsfw ABCs [ Rollo Flamm ]

Hello! This is my first blog and writing so bare with me but I feel the primal urge to create such things! For now I’ll be taking requests for headcanons and Drabble only Twst only!  Anyway, time to feed the Rollo simps!

NSFW| Rollo Flamm x GN reader |

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Rollo is a proper gentleman and believes that follow ups like after care should be common sense for anyone. If you have sex with someone, you’re supposed to clean up your bodies as he would consider it filthy if not. Though he would rather you be self-sufficient enough to do it yourself, he will clean you up nice and gently if you’re too drained; though expect some minor insults to slip out as he wipes you down with a warm rag. Rollo wouldn’t admit it but he does take pride in a way when you’re too much of a mess to do it yourself. After all he does believe that one should clean up the mess THEY caused. On a small side note since he would be relatively new to pleasure another, the aftercare part he was always more one of since he found it the easier thing to do in a sexual relationship.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of their partner’s)

He would absolutely love your hands. Oh how soft and comforting they were to hold. He loved the way they loved when they squeezed around the sheets on the bed as he kept his pace nice and steady as your hole squeezed around him. Rollo would have the tendency to slowly slide his hands down your arms only to then intertwine his fingers with yours and give em a nice firm squeeze. Even out of the bedroom he would randomly take your hand when he could and give them a soft kiss along each finger if he has time.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Due to not liking filthy things he usually pulls out and cums into a napkin or cloth he had placed out beforehand. Though on a very rare occasion he might cum right onto your back or stomach depending on the position. His cum would usually be thicker than the average person’s due to not really masterbaiting or having sex too often in general.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Rollo secretly likes temperature play though he wouldn’t act upon this liking all too much. On special occasions when he does want to drabble in his weird sexual interest it would consist of you blindfold to raise your other senses as he holds a candle to your body and just inches the flame closer. Your reaction to the threatening flame would have him pretty rock hard. Don’t worry he wouldn’t let it burn you, the worst he would do  letting a few drops of wax drip on you.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Absolutely not. He would of  been a happy virgin for as long as he lived if he hadn’t met you. He had a low libido though it would have raised up a bit once with you. You would need to guide him through it the first few times until he got how to please your body the way you like it. Rollo might have crossed some erotic scenes in his books but he would be keeping notes. What he knows is what is taught in sex ed so that is about it! At least he would be aware of the clit and the purpose of it, but don't expect him to blow your socks off the first few times.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Basic missionary is all he requires and likes. It is a simple position that allows him to see most of you and get the job done. He wouldn’t be too reluctant if you asked for a different one as long as it wasn’t too much of a hassle to do. The only other position he enjoys is doggy style, once again, it is simple and gets the job done.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Rollo is a serious man and wouldn’t understand why anyone would goof off during sex. If you were to try to make a joke during an erotic moment he would go soft and lose interest almost immediately and probably give you a cringed out look too.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He would keep himself very well kept! Anything you expected from his normal appearance would be the same down below, nice and tame. And he would expect the same of you as well. 

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

The first time would be more like you’re a teacher so it would go quite slow as he wants to make sure he is doing it right of course, as well as study your reaction to certain things he does if he goes off script. After a while once he feels confident in his ability,  the pace would be about the same as he wants you to feel every little thing he does to you. Rollo wouldn’t admit this openly, but  he cherishes your body and the fact that  YOU are allowing him, of all people, to do such things to you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Rollo doesn’t have the time nor feel the need to jack off. If he feels pent up he will come directly onto you or have you sent to his office to fix the problem head on.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

As mentioned in another letter,  he would enjoy temperature play and some very soft bondage. He isn't a very kinky man but he might discover he likes orgasm denial if you manage to get punished by him. 

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

 His office or bedroom. He will NOT do it any other place, and if you try to get frisky with him outside of those two places, he will end up ignoring you for the rest of the day and even cover his mouth with his handkerchief to hide his disgust. Thankfully, you are his lover so he wouldn’t be mad at you for too long- but definitely never try it again.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

The simple things; such as the way your hips move as you walk, or how serious your expressions get when you’re determined or focused. What he finds most attractive is how you stand up to him and speak your mind; like you are the same level or better than him. Oh he can’t wait until he is alone with you to remind you of your place.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

There’s a lot of no’s coming from this man. No heavy pda such as making out; a small kiss and hand holding for a bit is okay but any more than that going to get you shunned. No spitting or anything dirty. Rollo absolutely wouldn’t tolerate being degraded at any point during sexy time. 

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Rollo prefers to give as he finds it less dirty than to have his own dick sucked. Since he was previously an inexperienced virgin, it would take him a bit to get the hang of it and he would have an inconsistent tempo, BUT once he gets some practice you will be cumming- or get real close to an organism. Now, returning to the receiving end: you would have to practically beg him if you want to give him head. Though he does find it a bit gross…HE WOULDN’T SAY HE HATES IT!

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He is in between both fast and rough and slow and sensual. His speed is a moderate one. He wouldn’t be dreadfully slow, but he wouldn’t be  ramming in and out either. Rollo’s main goal would be to please you,  so he wouldn’t be in a rush to finish. 

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Quickies are a waste of time. He doesn’t have time for them and if he did he would fill that time with something he deemed more productive. Rollo believes that  if he feels horny,  he will save that feeling for a time when he can have a full session with you. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Nope! Safety first! He would always be sure to have condoms, and if you don't like that then that's fine since sex would only be in the safety of his office or bedroom- nowhere else; and during times he has NOTHING but you scheduled.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

As many times needed until both parties have cummed at least once. Rollo has a decent stamina due to the lack of masterbaiting, and the use of his energy in general.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

No toys for this strict, used to be a mega virgin,  man. Toys are of no use as he has you if he wants pleasure. Now he wouldn’t say no if you brought one and requested him to use it on you. Of course, after you explain how and show him how it works, but he would never seek them out himself.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

At first, he would barely tease as these were learning sessions. Once comfortable, he will get a bit more adventurous and branch off from following your lead; he likes the foreplay more than the actual action of the deed. Rollo will plunge his fingers in and out of you until you beg him to just fuck you,  but you better be good at begging because a simple please and a few tears won’t satisfy him enough to actually fuck you. There will even be times when all he will use is his hands and possibly a toy if you request it. 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

For the most part he is trying to keep his normal poker face, but if you get lucky enough you might look up to see a small scowl with his cheeks a light flush of pink. As for noise, he keeps it all in but you can catch a groan or two slip  as he thrusts in and out.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Though he may not say it, it would be clear that after a while you will notice he seems to like power play as long as he gets to be the one in charge. Even during the first few times when you are teaching him, he would act  as if he was the one demanding you to show him- as if you were no more than a mere little puzzle for him to toy with.

[gonzo-rella]

Headcanons: Being Nonbinary in the Study Group

MASTERLIST | AO3 | KO-FI

Pride Month 2024 #9

Relationship(s): Abed Nadir x nonbinary!reader (platonic), Annie Edison x nonbinary!reader (platonic), Britta Perry x nonbinary!reader (platonic), Jeff Winger x nonbinary!reader (platonic), Pierce Hawthorne x nonbinary!reader (platonic), Shirley Bennett x nonbinary!reader (platonic), Troy Barnes x nonbinary!reader.

Warnings: References to mild trans/enbyphobia. (Let me know if I need to add any)

(A/N: This is an idea I've had since long before Pride Month, but somehow it's the penultimate Pride Month fic I've posted. I've started a (slow) Community rewatch for the first time in at least a year, so hopefully that will motivate me to get back into writing for the show. I mean, this blog started out as a Community reader-insert fic blog, so who would I be if I stopped writing for it? I think I got a bit burnt out writing for it so much, but I'm ready to write more for it again. I'm hoping to get through some of the really old Community requests on my to-do list by the end of the year- we'll see! And, if you want to make a request for Community, with a nonbinary!reader or not, feel free to send one in.)

Annie and Abed are definitely the ones who find it the easiest to gender you correctly.

With Abed especially, he doesn’t treat it as a big deal, and he’s for sure the most understanding of it in the group.

Annie might be a bit awkward and ask questions of varying levels of appropriateness.

If you wear a pronoun pin or express a desire to get one, Annie will buy you matching pins in the same style.

Abed wants to be a good friend to you, so he’ll ask you outright if he’s not sure about something.

Jeff might not completely understand, but he finds most things easy, including getting your name/pronouns/etc. right.

He doesn’t bother asking you any questions; he figures everything out for himself.

Like Abed, he’s pretty good at not making your gender a big deal.

Britta will 100% be your biggest advocate.

She will always correct people if they get things wrong (even if you tell her she doesn't have to).

(If she ever accidentally misgenders you, Jeff will smugly correct her)

She will argue with Pierce if he’s a dick to you (more on him in a second).

And, if you run into any issues at Greendale, she will fight tooth and nail for you.

Troy gives off 'his pronouns are 'they/them'' energy.

He thinks that nonbinary people are cool as fuck.

He has a baseline understanding of it.

Like Annie, he asks you a lot of questions (also of varying levels of appropriateness).

A lot of his questions are outright bizarre compared to hers.

(‘Where does your gender fluid come from?’, for example)

Shirley doesn’t get the whole nonbinary thing (at first at least), but she will try her absolute best to show you respect and kindness.

And, despite her lack of understanding, she will stand up for you in a very motherly way.

(She will bring an eager Britta and a reluctant Jeff as her reinforcements)

I’m not sure where I stand with Pierce.

I can see him constantly making bottom of the barrel jokes about your gender that no one finds funny, and will either doubledown or backtrack with a defensive ‘what, can you say anything these days?’

But, I think with all the spiritual stuff he’s into, he might be comically understanding and accepting of nonbinary people. 

(It’s comical considering how bigoted/prejudiced or at the very least insensitive he is about race, gender etc.)

Maybe he’s a mixture of both of those things?

Either way, I can see him confidently making the dumbest and wildest claims about nonbinary people.

(Troy may or may not believe half of them and ask you to confirm)

And, on the rare occasion he says something right about nonbinary people, you’ll shamefully have to admit it.

As the years go on, it’s rare that any of them thinks much about your gender.

Even the ones who don’t understand it will get used to using your pronouns and gendering you correctly.

Everyone in the Study Group would, despite their varying levels of understanding, show as much respect to you as they do one another.

No matter your gender, you’re one of them, and that’s all that matters.

[thrawns-babygirl]

Get You Home (Crosshair x GN!Reader)

Posting this fic on behalf of a good friend at their request. Crosshair/GN!Reader angst

No smut and no warnings outside of intense feels. Let me know what you think so I can pass it on to them.

Word Count: 2900+

Ironic, isn't it, how someone could be created by another just to destroy themselves?

It was the general theme of the various thoughts that swam fervently through your mind, plagued by a vain concept of low boiling anger that managed to settle into reluctant relief before it surfaced.

You didn't want Crosshair to see anything in you that was more than what he needed for this last leap of the journey, a cautious balance of crafted care and reservation of the truth, presented through a gentleness that was far too desperate and pleading as it lingered. Yet he didn't seem to give any indication he took notice of the way you spoke your words as if sending them to him on paper wings, how your touch stayed on his arm so to give him the warmth that you hoped he hadn't already forgotten; and if he did, he certainly didn't speak it. He didn't speak at all once the silence took over, actually.

There was a small exchange of words when you first appeared, clarifying your intentions to free the captive clone and speaking then only when needed to give orders for the escape- though as soon as you pushed the throttle that pulled the ship free of the barrage of lasers and pursuing forces an eerie silence quickly settled, taking place in the air where your shared frantic breaths had left open. Everything seemed to come to a complete halt when the rush of stars that stretched across your vision in such vivid streaks returned to simple dots scattered around the walls of the universe.

"We have to wait here a bit for the others, once they've made it out they'll send us coordinates," You had spoken in a sort of voice you would use on a wounded animal, delicate and fragile and willing to falter if it spared the smallest of harsh tones.

He didn't speak.

Not with words in the least, though there was a story desperate to spill into a sea of tears as his eyes scanned the environment around him. It wasn't one you imagined he knew, but it was evident he saw the symptoms of his brothers in every little out of order detail that scarred this ship, and you could see the moments that took him as he stood and put the refined senses of a sharpshooter to practice.

You saw the way he paused as he noticed a scuff of paint on the piece of durasteel that hung just low enough for someone of Wrecker's height to hit in a rush, leaving behind a streak of white from the drawn face plastered in pale paint on his helmet. You were pretty sure the mark was still there on the armor, would Crosshair look to see if the evidence aligned when he saw the brute again?

Then the clone turned and saw the control panel that was still open with half a scomp sticking out, not that there was any physical memento needed to remember how Echo got stuck when the ship's power faltered and something or another went wrong in just the right way that you had to cut him out. Never really got around to removing the blatant jam in what would be an otherwise useful port, much to your droid's adamant displeasure.

Stepping back now and moving his sights as the man noticed a thin black wire that stuck out from the panel snake up and around until it brought him to the other side of the ship where a signature Tech project had been sitting untouched for a few days. It was a small device that required your input as well as his understanding of the skills needed. At this point you weren't sure if it was work being done for the payoff or simply the time to spend with one another.

Then, finally, Crosshair turned and saw a sight he hadn't seen since they had still called their barracks "home": a board with clear holes and a sloppily drawn target that Hunter often used to hone his accuracy with throwing knives, or even just pass the time when days grew too slow. But this was different. On one side was his clear mastery with a concise series of streaks, and the other one with far more scattered results- even some marks on the walls of the ship- with very few holes decidedly on the target.

"Hunter's been trying to teach me, I'm not that good at it, he said you were the only one who would ever entertain a challenge with him until I came along," An attempt to ease into a conversation, seeing something flash behind Crosshair's eyes as he remained fixated on the board.

The Crosshair described to you was so, so far from the one that stood here now. This wasn't a fire that burned when touched, it was a frost that lost the will to bite. Not the man who would speak slyly with a slick insult as he crossed his arms and looked smug. Not the sniper who never missed a target else he would live down his reputation and have it reflected on the foundation of his purpose. Not the soldier who fought for a cause that he believed in for it was the inspiration for his creation so how could he not?

The way his brothers spoke of him was marred by the rift torn between them, but no matter how muddy the waters became there was still such a clear affection they had for the man that couldn't be drowned by their anger, for it was this reaction alone that lead you to understand that it wasn't just anger it was also hurt and it was quelled questions and it was a desperate plea to the universe for an answer that didn't sting so sharply as the image that it was Crosshair's choice and his alone.

It had been such a subject of debate, recurring and spiraling into a series of speculation until Hunter finally announced the end of it and set everyone to a task to keep the peace. You never understood it much, why they felt the need to ask one another when it was apparent none of them had the grounds to claim to know for sure, unsure if anyone other than the Kaminoans would have such knowledge to begin with. Was it because they wanted to understand the truth that they asked in this way, or because they were too scared of what it could be?

"What did they say about me?" Crosshair had managed a few words, and despite the way they were shaky and weak and falling before they could fly it still took you by surprise.

"Well… a lot of things," Trying to recount something that wouldn't come off as harsh as it had been spoken when one of the boys had let it out with a burning ire. You didn't doubt Crosshair would understand their hatred stemmed from their feelings of betrayal, but there was still no need for that to be spoken now. It wasn't what anyone needed. There would be time to talk, and that could be saved for when the wounds were treated and healed into scars that could withstand what hadn't been said without tearing the stitches.

And it was then you realized that it wasn't inherently what they had said about him that should be shared, but what they hadn't.

When Omega said something in her silly, naive little way that had a mutual feeling flash through the soldiers you could see the way their hearts still bled for their brother. How when they explained it to her it was as if they were rationalizing it for themselves as well. Taking the much softer perspective they created to give the child and finding comfort in it as well.

That time you were on a roof scoping a location and Wrecker accidentally shouted up to you and called the name "Crosshair" out of habit, and how he tried to claim it was the shadow of a snipers pose that just had him caught in the moment and how it didn't matter at all and how you couldn't help but see such a strange emotion weep from his words as he defended his actions to nobody but himself.

Or the way Hunter's eyes found themselves stuck on a small jar of toothpicks when you went into a cantina to ask some questions to the tender, the confliction you could see as soon as he registered the objects and the way his focus kept flickering to what should have been just another something in the background.

The fact that any time one of them was given a task that used to be Crosshair's assigned job in the squad there was a complaint. Sometimes followed by usually Hunter barking about how that clearly couldn't be done by the original performer, sometimes it just fell silent as the memories played in their minds too. And even when it was your given task one of them would be sure to inform you that yes, it was Crosshair who usually climbed to the top of a perch and scouted ahead with the binocs, as if you had ever asked or had any doubts.

It was the way they snapped at you when you tried to move his weapons kit, the fact that you noticed them all visibly tense and grow shy when you first asked for the story of what happened, how when you asked about scope specifications it was as if everyone glanced around the room for him just to realize he wasn't there. That just like he noticed the signs of them in this ship you saw the signs of him in them.

But how did you share something like that?

When you turned to face the clone he was still standing with his eyes locked onto the targets littered with tears and holes. He was still but he was shaking but he didn't move but he was falling through the fabric of reality itself.

"They miss you. I guess that'd be a good summary of everything," Your voice took a risk, words extending hands and hoping that he'd reach out to take them.

Crosshair turned to you after his eyes fell and closed for a moment, a shaken breath having to fight itself to be regained before he looked and for what must be the first time it felt as if you were truly looking at one another face to face.

You could see through his gaze that he mirrored the sentiment, unable to speak it only from the words twisting and tripping and toiling with one another until they simply became stuck in his throat as nothing more than a weight he used to keep his guilt down. What used to be vivid and vivacious in his eyes had since been bled of their valiance and left nothing more than a ghost that haunted bittersweet memories. And the look that usually presented itself with a furrowed brow and a frown was too reduced to what remained when everything was stripped and bones were left bare.

Perhaps it was this unrelenting vulnerability that allowed the clone to venture into a territory he had always feared. He had already dug himself down to bedrock, what was the harm in seeing if there was anywhere else to go? It wasn't as if he could go any further south from here with the only tools at his disposal being his own worn hands.

"Even after it all?" A sincere request that was hesitant as it came to light, words drawled but not with intentional emphasis for dramatic effect more than a fear strong enough to slow them down but not strong enough to stop them.

And you couldn't help but smile and huff at that.

"You think that the brothers you were created with, raised with, trained with, and fought with would leave you behind like that?" You crossed your arms, still floating on a cloud of caution and care as you allowed your demeanor to shift just the slightest amount, "You think they didn't talk about how they would save you if they could? That they didn't tell Omega stories about all of you, as a team, and end it with a wish it could happen again one day? Do you really think they would have just… let you go if they had the option to bring you back with them?"

Your own voice wavered as you finished, finding a surprising amount of emotions starting to bubble up from beneath you, rising through your chest until they were at your eyes and you had to blink to keep them at bay. A task that became increasingly harder as you saw the way your words struck the other. Recoiling slightly as if you took a gun and pulled the trigger slow enough that it slowed time as well as the bullet struck him.

He looked at you in such a pleading way, asking a question neither of you knew but you knew it was there and that it needed to be answered, but how do you answer something that can't be asked with words that need to be spoken? And what little humor had taken hold of you drained from below your feet as you saw the first tear fall.

It was almost instinct that brought you closer, pulling the soldier into an embrace and holding him together before he fell apart in the absence of a strength he finally lost his grasp on. Slipping from the control he had placed himself under when he convinced himself of his loyalty and threw away what he was pretending wasn't what he had wanted, what he needed.

When he fell weak you brought him to the ground gently, pulling him to lean his weight onto you, sheltering him as you felt his breath on your neck and his hands trembling as they latched onto what was left for them to, finding solace in gripping your arms and using that hold to keep the distance from tearing you apart as if he was afraid of what would happen if he let go.

You hadn't thought much of it until this moment. Not his side of it, at least.

Countless nights of yours since joining up had been spent pondering this particular clone, but it had always been through the eyes of his brothers. From a thick lens of red that hazed everything through it to a velvet that could scream as it drowned, altering any other color to the same fate and sparing few alternatives. In this way it was more strategic in understanding, emotions running behind in close second but never pushing past to take the lead.

But what of him? What of the one who was left behind? The one that you heard of but never knew, only knowing him now that he was cracking and falling apart into pieces in your arms; not when he was a sheep in wolves clothing, or even the original side of him that had simply been the clone soldier with a bit of an edge. And what did all these mirrored versions of him reduce down to behind the smoke from the flames he used to burn them?

Through every strained breath from the man you could feel a quake in your own heart, the loneliness that he wore as a badge of pride and honor seeping through his touch and into yours and showing their true colors. Nothing more than a masquerade, a delusion he dressed up and decided was his fate because it was easier to say it was fate that chose your twisted path instead of your own two feet.

And again it became ironic, or maybe poetic if the word catches a peculiar fancy, how it was the disobedience he was known for prior that finally set him free now. Did he still believe that things were a certain way because he was created to fit into a place? Or has he remembered that even when he was supposed to submit himself to the aforementioned he never did, that he always broke the mold he wouldn't be cast into and finished the mission without following the orders.

And how, you can't help but think, will he unfold now that he has been free of all the shackles that have had him bound to what he believed to be loyalty?

What kind of man would he turn into when he patched up his relationship with his brothers, when he met Omega on equal ground and spoke her name, when he got the chance to exist as something more than a shadow of a soldier still fighting a war that had already ended?

Time would only tell as it was the teller of all tales, and as if summoned by thought the comm device strapped to your side beeped twice before a muffled voice gave the confirmation that you were to expect coordinates in the upcoming moments for your rendezvous.

"Hey," You whispered, holding the man just a bit tighter as you felt his breath hitch and hold itself, stilling for just long enough for you to say what he needed to be told, "Let's just get you home, yeah?"

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