#they tend to be somewhere relatively remote

[stardew-obsessed-ora]

I've been avoiding posting just so that Ulrich's ref could be my 100th POST. RAHHH. WOOO IT'S DONE!!

For anyone whose new to seeing this man, his name is Ulrich Althaus (Ulrich Mephisto Althaus if we're referring to him in other canons). He's a Technical Lead for Joja Corporations, and despite being introverted, he can come off as rather judgmental to people who don't know him well enough to understand how he speaks. He's around 18 years old when he first arrives in the Republic itself, finding himself staying around Downtown Zuzu for a while. He's somewhere in his late 20s/early 30s when he stations himself in the valley itself and tries to gather the resources to set up a Joja Brand tech store. In his mind, he truly, deeply believes that Joja can help benefit the valley. He ends up having rose-tinted glasses over the company for the longest time, and gradually has those viewpoints shattered the longer he stays within the valley. Of course, I plan on building his lore up gradually and through slow answers here and there, so I'm really trying not to spew out too much :3 also he's ungodly picky i mean he hates more than the average farmer LMFAO. bro has most of the universal hates too

More general description stuff/expansion stuff (fair warning its long):

 Ulrich's personality is a fascinating one. He feels as though he has a reputation to uphold, and will often shut down most, if not all critique coming toward him unless they are genuine. He often-times does not stand for attacks on his own character. Usually though, he’s the one giving critique to others, but it mostly comes off as insults rather than from a genuine place of concern due to how blunt he is. The way he phrases things tends to be derogatory in nature due to his lack of filter. He tends to get annoyed when people act offended, and genuinely doesn’t understand why they took his concern the way they did.

Unfortunately, due to the nature of feeling he has to constantly uphold a reputation, he is quite the perfectionist. It's difficult for him to accept his own mistakes without shutting down and having to distance himself from the situation awhile. To put it simply, he feels like he’s failed those around him through his errors. While he gives others the opportunity to correct their margin of error, he would never give himself that leeway. 

Due to Ulrich’s lack of social understanding, he tends to struggle at fraternizing with others and oftentimes misses obvious jokes or sarcasm within sentences. He is particularly bad at this when matched with tone through text, and will often find himself over-explaining something that didn’t need to be explained to begin with just to be met with “blah blah blah its a joke”. Though his lack of tonal understanding is better in person, he can still be found occasionally left confused and bewildered at interactions.  

Speaking of social scenarios with Ulrich, he is relatively introverted, and prefers brief interactions with strangers in person as to not burn himself out. He prefers interactions with little to no people around, and in general much prefers spaces with little to no activity. This is one of many reasons which his line of work involves remote involvement and virtual meetings on his end. While this issue does not present itself in online chatrooms, he still finds himself burnt out of interaction occasionally if he’s had to speak to those hes unfamiliarized with for too long. 

To those he’s come to know, however, he can be a rather clingy, overprotective individual who wishes for nothing more than to be there for the ones he’s come to love. His clingy nature comes from a place of fear, as he doesn’t want to go through losing someone else he’s come to grow close to. Though, he can be a bit overbearing at points. 

Other Likes:  

 - He highly enjoys programming, creating things from scratch through the languages he knows,  and being able to experience anything which was decently coded. He’s actually a total nerd for video games and especially for computer viruses. He loves being able to dissect things like that. 

He enjoys heavy metal music and EDM. His playlist can be a jumpscare for those entirely oblivious to his music tastes.

He enjoys hiking and exploring alone in his free-time. Its relaxing for him to be able to get out and exercise in any way he can. 

He’s a total dork for mythology and the study of all things surrounding mythological creatures. 

He gets overly hyper during the festival of the moonlight jellies 

He’d never actually admit it, but he really likes dancing, the art behind dancing, and is a decent dancer himself. 

Other Dislikes: 

He has a phobia of needles

He’s outright terrified of Krampus. His father told him ONE tale for bedtime and it forever sealed his fate. 

He dislikes overly loud and obnoxious individuals, finding them quick to drain him. 

He dislikes summer, finding himself overheating easily in the harsh sun

Despite being a Joja employee, he somewhat holds disdain for the way a majority of the branches are run. 

Geese. I don’t need to explain this one, I’m sure it’s justifiable.

Strengths:

One of Ulrich’s greatest strengths is how agile he is. Being relatively skilled on his feet, he is able to run away from most confrontations. Of course, he’d find that shameful, so instead he uses this agility of his to get to and from places at concerning speeds. He might have knee issues, but that doesn't mean he's not fast as fuck.

He's a total computer nerd. Got a tech problem? He’s probably your guy to help out. 

He’s a surprisingly good chef

He was also taught a decent amount of fishing by his father, making him decent at it. 

He’s very outspoken about how he feels regarding any given situation

Weaknesses:

He’s ass at farming. Do not make this man do farmwork, you’ll regret it deeply. Please PLEASE don’t make this man do farm work.

He has the depth perception of a literal toddler. If he’s running somewhere, there’s a 50% chance he’ll slam into a pole on the way there.

As stated in his bio, he has difficulty in social situations. This can make bonding with others difficult, and causes him his fair share of conflict. Especially when he mistakes a joke as a snide remark and starts to comment about how it shouldn’t have been said and it spirals out of control.

He’s stubborn to a fault. He has a very stern set of morals which are hard to bend. Not only that, but his strict internal code causes him to react oddly to anything which bends it even slightly, causing even MORE conflict on his part. 

He’s very outspoken about how he feels regarding any given situation

close up on some things that might be hard to read + the chibis that im absurdly attached to (i might post them standalone)

[claudiajcregg]

Tell Other People About Your WIPs

make a list of all your WIPs with a brief description of each and then people can ask you questions about them and then tag other people.

Tagged by both @onekisstotakewithme and @miabicicletta 💜💜💜 Thank you, guys <3 I don't know who to tag that hasn't been tagged already. Interested? Tag, you're it! :) (Please do know that there are no set sections. Pick whatever you want. I went the deranged route.)

I have an outdated WIP list, and many others unaccounted for. This is just a selection of stuff I could see myself posting or editing/retooling to write something new. I love talking about my WIPs, about as much as I hate being perceived because they are not remotely interesting. (I also love knowing which ones people are interested in! I have an incentive to work on them!) (Instead of snippets, part of my feedback loop is sending actual rough drafts to get a sense of whether it's worth working on more.)

Multichapters, different levels of completion.

S5 Pregnancy AU. My main WIP. Can you believe I’ve had this idea for a year… almost to the day? I’ve been stuck since November bc I don’t know how I want this one to end, beyond a birth. (As I’ve mentioned in the past, I feel like this has legs to become a fluffy universe. I have ideas! Timelines!) Gist of it: CJ gets pregnant circa Zooey's kidnapping. How does it change S5? It's less angsty than you think.

Campaign bars, aka campaign conversations sometimes happened at bars in the 1998 campaign. Fun stuff. I need to pick it right back.

What Once Was Ours or the IM AU (2021), aka IM ends with a breakup. Not a WIP. Not a UFO. A secret third thing. (“Finished” but not edited, and I’m doubtful people would be interested. Probably bc of some bittersweet ~memories~ attached to it. I mean, I shared a third of it to discord and people couldn’t care less, at least after a while. Now, better IM AUs are being posted these days; I'm not in a rush.) 33 chapters. 150k words. I do reread it every once in a while, and I cannot put it down. But its 'age' takes me aback. If things had been different, I'd have posted this in H2 2021/Q1 2022 (or even the planned Q2-3 2021). But alas.

The “Almost Ready, question mark” Category

Another SVD prompt meme claim: what if CJ has the crush first. The thing is, I tend to write her as having a relatively obvious crush on him at first until something makes her wise up. So this is just some ridiculous, post-first-meeting thoughts. Most of it was written in one sitting! It kinda fits with something in the campaign bars fic, too.

Post birth, hospital story: A couple of hours after their bb girl is born. Pure fluff. Recently reworked it to make it less wordy. Still failed, but it’s better focused now.

Many ficlets – the few I did post on Tumblr that haven’t been posted to the story I’m collecting them in, plus a couple more. I'm thinking the ice skating one, Jan 22, a few post-eps I wrote last year, etc.

Ambitious Projects I don't think are happening right away (or ever), but probably have a detailed outline somewhere

(I put this up instead of last, because the next category has faves, but it's also a long one.)

Danny is back a bit earlier on s7. Toby leaks (or tries to leak? I always wavered) the shuttle to him, as he and CJ are getting closer.

Simon lives. How does his relationship with CJ evolve post-honeymoon phase? What is it like when Danny returns?

You’ve got mail AU. This outline had two ways the climax could go. I had fun.

Epistolary collab (?) fic. Probably an X + 1 fic. The only one with nothing written; don’t rule out writing it individually at some point.

And because this is so long already (but not as long as it could be)… A few more under the cut – more "I just want to make sure I like them" and "this meme reminded me I meant to pick those back up." And they are still not all. (How do you summarize seven years of writing?? I've only posted 20-something of them, lol.)

“Almost Ready (but I feel like I want to make changes to them) (might just redo them altogether)”

Haunted by the Notion, 2007 edition. My beta Ruth suggested this when she edited the other story, and I wrote it around then. It’s another Christmas dinner at Filomena, and, eight years later, things are different. I feel like it hits expected beats, and is just missing some oomph. Maybe. (As much as I do like it, half tempted to make it 2009. Or later.)

Heaven’s here…: A interrupted proposal. I’ve written many proposals over the years, and I love toying with different ideas and setups. Danny takes the lead here, but I’ve been intrigued by the idea of having CJ do the final twist.

5 to 6 am 'me' time. Another story inspired by last year’s rewatch that I wrote right at the start of it (so Jan 2023?). It has five short parts with five different years of what CJ describes in the pilot as her “me time.” This is one when I think one per year would be fun, but I don’t want to repeat myself.

One bed, “sexy” edition. An AU to a sort of AU (one of the drabbles from this summer) and… it's what it says on the tin. The world does not need to read my attempts at smut. If I didn’t put it in the previous category, it’s because I am not sure that I want to post it. (All the previous attempts are locked somewhere; unfortunately, someone loves this one and noticed when I tried to do that, lol.)

First baby kick: I remember writing this while in grad school (so, late 2017? First half of 2018) but I lost it, along other fic, when my laptop had to be reset because I used Bear to write back then, but didn’t have sync across devices. I rewrote it, and I feel like it's not the same, but still. It's sweet! Includes: Danny talking to the baby, domestic fluff, and… baby kicks!

“This meme reminded me they exist and I love them, so don't be surprised if they are posted before anything in a previous category”

(Lbr, if I added something about them in this post at all, it’s because they sparked some memory.)

Mosaic broken hearts: CJ, circa S4, jealousy. Prompted by a former fandom friend, back in my productive era (first half of 2021; before that friend just ghosted me.)

I can’t believe I captured your heart (pancake breakfast, three words and eight letters). For a while there, I edited it so much but then I fell off. iirc, it was part of some morning-related prompts I saw around that I tried to fulfill in 2018? 2019? And they had like internal progression. But this one was the best of the 3-4, and I kept tweaking it.

Green light of forgiveness (IM-ish) — there are many other IM/IM-Tomorrow snippets I’ve written over the years. I’m not sure if this one makes much sense, but I liked it enough.

Distance — I recall liking this one! Might have to bump it up. CJ is in Africa, Danny is at the Farm and sulking because they left off on some sort of argument. There is some Danny-Abbey friendship goodness here. I even have a second file that is “Distance - shorter version (it’s not)”

Danny writes fiction, shows it to CJ during her pregnancy and she’s into it. Technically written. I would probably try to take another stab at it. Third time might be the charm?

San Andreo phone call/fallout from ID. I just had the idea of CJ reaching out once things calm down. This is one of those fics I’ve written a version of every year or so, but I think there was one I liked quite a bit.

Terrible taste in men — a run-in with an OC ex of CJ. It was so dumb.

Fka Impatience - actually beta’d three years ago (by that fandom friend I've mentioned twice before… actually, three times) and “done”. I just think I’d change so much about it these days. It started being something else but ended up being a CJ-Toby friendship story in which they have lunch and catch up. But I would want to rewrite most of it now, and not just because it’s from like… 2019 (but finished in 2021).

I forgot this one initially! he's passing by, rare as the comet in my sky - 2? 3? times CJ thinks she sees Danny somewhere, and one time she does. (Which tried to work in the 'I remember shunning you' line.) I even wrote some sort of sequel later! Probably useless.

I said I would post a lightning round with fics that are either also done but not ready for me to mention them, or just… not done at all. The length of this post and how much I've spent on it is embarrassing. To give a general overview: in line with the nonsense I've been mentioning, includes phone calls at the end of S7, also a few friendship-focused fics around that time, too; present-day stuff; anniversaries; Hollis fundraisers; weddings; many ficlets, introspective thoughts, a “yes day” fic that's super sweet but needs better dares, the third memoir idea (the original one!!!!) that I had three years ago… And those are mostly the ones I had preselected, lol.

If you're interested, I can screenshoot this part in the notes app if you message me!

Anyway, this is embarrassing, and the worst part is that it's not all. fml.

[religioused]

You Aren’t Going Out Dressed Like That!

by Gary Simpson

Deuteronomy 22:5 (NAB) “A woman shall not wear a man’s apparel, nor shall a man put on a woman’s garment, for whoever does such things is abhorrent to the LORD your God.”

Today, we are discussing those who perform in drag.

People who have their gaze fixed on those who dress in drag put clothing above hearts.

The clothes police can use the Bible passage in Deuteronomy 22 to this to attack anybody who does not dress in gender typical clothing. Elliot Kukla and Reuben Zellman remark that this Bible text “has been used for hundreds of years against seven-year-old tomboys.”(1) I grew up in farm and cattle country. The farm ladies wore overalls, coats, and boots that looked just like what men wore. I cannot imagine the reaction a person would get if they told a farm lady to dress like a lady.

I searched online for Bible texts related to people who perform in drag and to transgender people. I found an Open Bible webpage that had a long list of Bible texts, most of which were off topic.(2) I am providing the worst example on the website of a Bible text that was taken out of context to support the position that drag is wrong. To give you an idea of how far off topic the text is, I am going to read it for you. The Bible translation used on the Open Bible website is the English Standard Version, which reads as follows: “and you will be dragged before governors and kings for my sake, to bear witness before them and the Gentiles.” Drag queen and drag king performances have nothing to do with a person of faith being taken to court, because they believe Jesus is the Messiah. Only one of the Bible texts cited appeared to be remotely related to the topic, Deuteronomy 22:5. “A woman shall not wear a man’s apparel, nor shall a man put on a woman’s garment, for whoever does such things is abhorrent to the LORD your God.”(3)

RuPaul, who might be the most famous drag queen says that people are born naked, and “The rest is drag.”(4) There is some truth to RuPaul’s comment. We tend to dress in ways that enhance, that make us look different, that give us confidence, and express elements of our artistic sense and personality.

A few quick facts about drag.

• People dress in drag to perform, not to show their gender. That is why drag queens are not transgender people.(5)

•There is more than one kind of drag. There are drag queens and drag kings. Drag kings are women who dress up like men to perform.(6) There are exceptions. Some women are drag queens.

• Drag clothing that is exaggerated clothing for women or men.(7)

• Drag is about fun, creativity, and self-expression.(8)

• Some people find drag helps them accept themselves, or gives them confidence.(9)

Drag is not a recent invention. We cannot blame drag on the cultural changes of the last 50 years. Historically, women were not able to be actors. Men dressed in drag to perform the roles of women in theatrical productions. Male actors in drag were common in ancient Greece and Shakespeare’s time.(10) In England in the early 1700s, there appear to have been drag queens like what we have now. They performed for largely gay male audiences in “molly houses.”(11)

When I was a kid, even before I went to elementary school, I remember seeing photos of distant relatives where I could not tell who the boys and who the girls were. In some cases, the photo had notes that indicated the name of each child. In other cases, older family members had to tell me who the people were. The little boys and the little girls were both wearing gowns or dresses. According to Wikipedia, this was a common practice the mid 1500s until the early 1900s.(12) Somewhere between age 2 and age 8, boys started wearing breeches or pants.(13) I gather starting to wear breeches or pants was an “important rite of passage” for boys.(14) Boys wearing dresses might have related to toilet training and to the need to save money.(15) There were times when I was shown adult photos of the boys who were wearing dresses in older photographs. You could see how these boys, who looked to my amateur eye like girls, looking like rugged, masculine pioneers. Dressing like girls did not make these men gay. The boys wearing dresses were no threat to society or to organized religion. Children seeing people in drag are not going to turn gay or trans. Most people in the world are straight and cisgender. If seeing people with a different sexual orientation or gender identity could change people’s sexual orientation or gender identity, there would not be a single LGBTQ+ person in the world.

Drag performers can provide a positive role in the LGBTQ+ community. The Imperial Sovereign Court of the Wild Rose in Edmonton is a charitable organization.(16) The Court organizes drag performances to raise money for charity. They support the community with more than $50,000 a year.(17)

In general, drag queens do not fool people.(18) Drag queens do not tend to look enough like women to fool people. Famous drag queen RuPaul commented to the effect that he dresses like a drag queen, not a woman. He asks how many women we see in seven-inch heels and wearing four-foot wigs.(19)

Next, we are going to look at the context of the verse. There might be a clue to the meaning of the text we read a few minutes ago. We read verse 5, which appears to take the position that men and women should not wear clothing for the opposite biological sex. Verses 1 to 4 outline our moral duties for our neighbors.(20) Because the immediate context is ethical duties to neighbors, this might be about ethical duties to our neighbors, not about drag queens.

The opinions of Jewish commentators and sages about the Bible text need to be considered. Elliot Kukla and Reuben Zellman note that Jewish “Sages have never read this verse as a literal ban on cross-dressing.” In the Talmud, there is a sense that the verses condemn dressing as a different gender when there are “ulterior motives.” Rashi saw this passage as applying to people who wore clothes from another gender so they could seduce someone. From my studies of the Bible, I get the impression that many condemnations of sexual practices were related to the worship of other gods. Rambam believed this verse is a prohibition against “cross-dressing” that was part of idol worship.(21) Contemporary Jewish scholars Gunther Plaut and Dudley Weinberg indicate that use of the word that is translated abhorrent in the New American Bible suggests that dressing in the clothes of a different gender was related more an idol worship than a sexual deviation.(22)

Discussions of gender can be unsettling for many people. The idea of diversity of gender expressions and identities can be frightening, because it goes against what we learned when we were kids. To those who are afraid of drag queens, drag performers are nothing to fear. We can treat drag queens and drag kings like God carriers. When God’s presence is near, the Scriptures give us the sense that there is no need to be afraid. Jesuit priest Felix Just says the phrase "Fear not! (or equivalent translations) appears only slightly over 100 times in the Old Testament, as well as about 44 times in the New Testament.(23) When you think of drag performers, listen to the Spirit of the Risen Christ. “Fear not! Fear not! Fear not!”

Notes

(1) Elliot Kukla and Reuben Zellman. “ To Wear is Human, to Live - Divine : Parashat Ki Tetse (Deuteronomy 16:18-21:19).” Torah Queeries: Weekly Commentaries on the Hebrew Bible. (New York: New York Univ. Press, 2009), 255.

(2) Stephen Smith, ed. “28 Bible Verses About Drag Queens.” Open Bible. 22 January 2023, 23 January 2023. <https://www.openbible.info/topics/drag_queens>.

(3) New American Bible.

(4) Shelton (2022) <https://www.psychiatrictimes.com/view/the-joy-of-drag>.

(5) Schacht (2000), cited in Michael Moncrieff and Pierre Lienard. "A Natural History of the Drag Queen Phenomenon." Evolutionary Psychology. (April-June 2017): 2. <https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/pdf/10.1177/1474704917707591>.

(6) Samuel Njoroge. “What is a Drag Queen?” LGBTQ and All. n.d., 24 January 2023. <https://www.lgbtqandall.com/what-is-a-drag-queen/>.

(7) Njoroge (n.d.) <https://www.lgbtqandall.com/what-is-a-drag-queen/>.

(8) Shelton (2022) <https://www.psychiatrictimes.com/view/the-joy-of-drag>.

(9) Shelton (2022) <https://www.psychiatrictimes.com/view/the-joy-of-drag>.

(10) Njoroge (n.d.) <https://www.lgbtqandall.com/what-is-a-drag-queen/>.

(11) Norton (2016) cited in Michael Moncrieff and Pierre Lienard. "A Natural History of the Drag Queen Phenomenon." Evolutionary Psychology. (April-June 2017): 3. <https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/pdf/10.1177/1474704917707591>.

(12) “Breaching (boys).” Wikipedia. December 2022, 02 February 2023. <https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Breeching_(boys)>.

(13) “Breaching (boys)” (December) <https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Breeching_(boys)>.

(14) “Breaching (boys)” (December) <https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Breeching_(boys)>.

(15) “Breaching (boys)” (December) <https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Breeching_(boys)>.

(16) “About Us.” Imperial Sovereign Court of the Wild Rose. n.d., 31 May 2023. <https://iscwryeg.ca/>.

(17) “History of the ISCWR.” Imperial Sovereign Court of the Wild Rose n.d., 31 May 2023. <https://iscwryeg.ca/history/>

(18) Njoroge (n.d.) <https://www.lgbtqandall.com/what-is-a-drag-queen/>.

(19) Njoroge (n.d.) <https://www.lgbtqandall.com/what-is-a-drag-queen/>.

(20) Adele Berlin and Marc Zvi Brettler, eds. The Jewish Study Bible. (New York: Oxford Univ. Press, 2004), 415.

(21) Kukla and Zellman (2009), 255.

(22) W. Gunther Plaut and Dudley Weinberg. The Torah: A Modern Commentary. (New York: Union of American Hebrew Congregations, 1981), 1485

(23) Felix Just. “Have no fear! Do not be afraid!” Catholic Resources. 15 June 2021, 30 January 2023. <https://catholic-resources.org/Bible/HaveNoFear.htm>.

[berrymoos]

Im on a 4 hour car ride rn so have some mindless thoughts

Steve, Robin, and Nancy are all flips and take care of each other; Nancy regressing somewhere around 3-7 years old, Robin being the older sister somewhere about 4-9 but she does go younger on some days, Steve regresses the least amount but when he does he regresses to 1.5-3, maybe 4-5 in some days

When Robin and Steve regress together, Robin makes it her life goal to make sure nothing bad ever happens to him and is nearly like how Max is with Jonny

---

Steve is a very sleepy little, it's not an often thing to see him running around playing like Eddie or Robin; He much rather cuddle up and nap while watching cartoons

---

Eddie and Robin have the immune system of a goldfish, they always are sick with something at least once a month; Whether it is the common cold or the flu, it is inevitable for them to call a CG (usually Steve or Nancy) and tell them to no ones suprise

"..teve?"

"Yes Eddie? Is something wrong?"

"..me an Wobby icky :("

And you betcha that Steve is sprinting to make sure that his littles are okay

---

Steve has 2 left feet when he's little, poor boy can barely walk a whole 10 steps without almost falling

Therefore along with Robin, he's completely covered head to toe in bandaids, usually Winnie the Pooh or Ninja Turtles

---

Eddie loves Thundercats and He-Man when he's little, if you turn either of them on and it takes the power of an other wordly being to get him away from it

oh bucko i just got done with a relatively long car ride ╥﹏╥

okay robin being the oldest, nancy being the middle, & steve being the youngest is so so cute oh my goodness (*＾＾*)// i like to imagine robin wears lots of overalls & primary colors, nancy wears cute skirts, hair clips, & pastel colors, & steve wears basic long sleeves shirts n shorts - he doesn't rlly have a tone of colors he sticks to, he literally just pulls something from his closet & puts it on, which leads to some ... clashing colors. he's comfy tho so he doesn't care

AND ROBIN & STEEEVE ≧﹏≦ she drags him away from anything that seems remotely dangerous to the little guy. it's very funny & very cute but also amusing ,, nancy's caught her dragging - like literally DRAGGING - him away from a counter that had a knife on it. nancy was using the knife to cut up bananas & strawberries for a smoothie 💀

ooo also food for thought, it's not uncommon for one of them to be watching the other & regressing as well, meaning the third steps up to the plate & cares for both of them! or if the third party member isn't available, the oldest regressor at the moment takes on the big sib role .. if that makes sense. LIKE LIKE steve's watching nancy, but he ends up regressing, so nancy takes on the big sibbie role bc she tends to stick around the 3 - 7 age range

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

sleepy little steviiie (≧∇≦)ෆ he likes cuddling up with nancy bc she's calmer than rob & eddie - she has energy, but she rather put it into puzzle games bc those are her faaaavorite!! eddie runs over to the couch to ask the two to play hide-n-seek w him & robin, but steve's already asleep with his head in nance's lap, blanket tucked up to his chin & a thumb popped in his mouth while nancy is invested in this episode of my little pony ,, or or eddie does manage to get them to play .. but when he finds steve hiding under the bed he's conked out KSJRKSKE ,, there was one time where steve accidentally fell asleep in the best hiding spot ever & the other three panicked because they couldn't find him anywhere!!

steve woke up by himself & wandered out from the cabinets, rubbing his eyes & cracking his back, in his bigspace — "ugh, what the hell-?"

& they all glomp him like "STEVIE!"

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

literally the moment eddie calls in to tell steve he's feelin icky steve is THERE. it's like he teleported or smth bc he got there SO fast (when rlly he ran a few red lights & almost got stopped by the cops in order to get to the store & mass buy EVERYTHING health-related there). from that point on robin & eddie think steve is capable of teleportation

steve absolutely DOTES on them. whatever they want, he'll get it. cuddles? you betcha. candy? three of their favorites. more juice? have as many cups as they'd like

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

robin likes the tmnt ones & steve likes the winnie the pooh ones, i don't make the rules i only instill them (❁´◡`❁) steve also likes sticking bandaids on them even if they aren't hurt - like stickers!! they run out within a few days of buying them & steve himself had to hide them so little him would stop JEKRJWKD

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

god if anyone dares turn off thundercats or he-man while he's watching all hell breaks loose: "eddie, it's bathtime-"

"NO!"

"eddie-"

"NOOOO!!!"

only nancy is brave enough to face his wrath. she stands like a statue to his whining & kicking & literally goes "are you done now?" after he tuckers himself out. she's the only one who doesn't have to deal with his tantrums when it comes to turning off the tv bc he knows she's not afraid to set him in timeout for a few minutes

[obeiii-mee]

MC had a bad day or they’re dealing with a bad loss from a loved one. So they decide to seek comfort from the Brothers! But they don’t do it in a normal way, they just barge in the room where the brothers are all relaxing or hanging out at before MC just busts in getting their attention and they go “I need a hug 🥺”. Let’s see the some fluffy hc’s of the brothers comforting MC 🥰

And how could they not want to hug their cute human that is literally 3 seconds away from breaking down into tears?

The Brothers Comforting MC After A Bad Day:

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You’re right, they wouldn’t be able to resist, they love their human too much 😌

*soBS* I want to hug one of them so bad rn

Thank you for the request, I love writing fluffy HCs, it’s my weak spot and it gives me serotonin. I hope you have a nice day/night!! Uh, it’s sort of implied that MC is slightly shorter than them so sorry if that’s a problem-

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Notes: Fluff, mentions of loss and dead family members/friends, mostly comfort though, short HCs

Characters: Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beezlebub and Belphegor.

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Lucifer:

-He doesn’t say anything and he doesn’t really need to because him just being there, arms wrapped around you and hands lightly running up and down your back, is worth more words than any sort of verbal consolation he could’ve given you and because of this, you feel at ease

-His touch is firm but gentle and you relax almost immediately, burying your head against his chest and feeling him press a kiss on top of your hairline, tightening your hold on him

-He already told his brothers to back off because the last thing he wanted was for you you to get overwhelmed by their insensitivity so you two were left in the living room by yourselves

-In a bit of an awkward position though, because you were both standing and after a while, it was clear a hug wasn’t going to be enough

-That’s his excuse as to why he picked you up bridal style five minutes later and carried you all the way to his bedroom, a place he knows his siblings won’t ever trespass without his permission and somewhere he can shield you from any prying eyes while you’re in this vulnerable state

-At this point, he was basically cradling you like a baby, having you sit on his lap and waiting for you to tire yourself out until you couldn’t cry anymore and watching you slip into that hiccuping stage you get after a breakdown

-Lucifer is obviously going to ask what happened, but whether you answer him or not is up to you because he’s not one to push matters if he sees you’re uncomfortable talking about it

-However, he might insist if he concludes that it’s affecting you and your well being and that’s how you know usually know he’s worried

-His voice is soft though and just listening to it makes you want to tell him everything, whether it’d be something as annoying as a small inconvenience you stumbled across that day or the death of a relative, you feel welcomed enough to spill everything

-Even if you decide not to, he’ll stay with you until you feel better, until you’re no longer crying or shaking or anything of the sort. He speaks occasionally, almost soothingly about how important you are to him and how capable you are of overcoming anything in your way. For the most part, however, he remains quiet and allows you to mull over your thoughts, willing to forget about his paperwork just to let you cling to him for a few hours

-Maybe later, when you’re no longer as distressed, he could get the full story out of you and help you overcome whatever problem you’re having trouble facing but for now, he understands all you need is for him to be there

“MC?” He calls your name out because he was thinking that maybe you had fallen asleep but he realised that was not the case when you looked up at him, streaks of tears still sliding down your cheeks. When you don’t respond, he sighs almost contently “A bit longer?” You don’t answer again but this time, he could feel you nod against him and he smiles despite himself as he leaned his head against yours “All right then, just a bit longer.”

Mammon:

-Truth be told, he’s never been the best at comforting someone and normally, he’s kind of awkward when he wants to show his support because it feels so out of his character

-But it’s not like he was going to refuse you anyway. Not when you specifically came to him and asked him for help and not when you looked like you were on the verge of crying. He’d be a monster to deny you >:(

-It upsets him too, you know. He’s meant to be your protector, guardian even, so the fact that he couldn’t keep you from getting hurt makes him feel like he failed at keeping his human safe. Actually, it takes a lot of convincing on your part just to tell him that you’re not actually physically hurt. Just a shitty day…

-Mammon, despite the walls he puts up ever now and then, is someone that genuinely cares for you. And he’s also the type that does almost everything in excess, especially when it comes to you or spending money. That’s just his personality; he’s loud and boisterous and even though he wants to deny this, completely transparent with his emotions

-You ask for a hug? He gives you plenty of hugs! He lets you lay on top of him while cuddling so he can hold you!!! He brings you snacks and drinks!!! Shit, he basically cradles you the whole night!!! And he’s blushing and acting annoyed the entire time, refusing to accept how much he’s actually enjoying this

-The point is, he tends to coddle you whenever you have a bad day or if you’re really affected by the loss of a dead loved one. This is probably because he, in turn, likes to be babied and cared for when he’s feeling down and he subconsciously does that to you because it’s the only means of comfort he knows how to execute well

-A hug would’ve sufficed, but you’re his human and let him be damned if he’s not gonna give you the world on a silver platter if you keep looking at him with those sad eyes of yours

-By now, if you need anything, you just need to ask because even with a bit of grumbling, he’ll get it for you. More snacks? Say less. Wanna watch TV with him for a while? Immediately reaches for the remote? You just want to cuddle? His body is naturally warm for a reason bby, dig in. You want his heart? Give him a moment to surgically get it out of his chest-

-No matter what, he’s so glad that you trust him enough to talk to him about this sort of stuff and that he’s the first person you think of when you need consolation

-It makes sense after all, right? He’s your first pact so your direct happiness is his responsibility while you’re in DevilDom! It’s his job to make sure you function again by tomorrow morning and that you’re no longer troubled by anything

“Hey! What’s with all the crying huh?” He cups your face in his hands and softly squishes the flesh between his fingers. His thumbs brush over the tears in your eyes and he let’s out a small ‘tsk’ as your foreheads touch and his hands drip to your shoulders to keep you steady “The Great Mammon is hugging ya right now, ya know? There’s no reason for you to be upset, not when I’ve got ya in my arms like this, OK? So you can stop with yer water works now.” As noisy as his voice is, there’s a gentle note behind it when he speaks and embraces you, his cologne spreading everywhere “I love you, ya big idiot. So please, stop cryin’ and lemme hold ya already! Yer making me worried, ya stupid human.”

Levi:

-You stopping by his room is not unusual. In fact, you do it every day and it’s just part of the routine you have with him. However, he’s wasn’t exactly expecting you to stand there, all shaken up and ask him for a hug!!!

-And he doesn’t process this request for a second but then he freaks out so badly-

-Yells incomprehensibly about how you’re ‘pulling your normie tricks on him again’ and how he’s ‘not going to be fooled by them anymore.’

-You raise your head to meet his eyes while he’s still rambling on though and he sees your teary expression and now he feels guilty because you look really upset. Levi’s kinda scared he made it worse-

-He’s the type to usher you in his room and lock the door as usual but instead of doing what the two of you always do, you literally stay attached to him because you need comfort damn it!

-Levi….is sort of clueless about these emotional outbursts since he himself doesn’t deal with them very well. However, he’s watched enough animes revolving around romance to conclude on the best course of action so-do not fear! (Spoiler, he still doesn’t know what he’s doing)

-He’s really stuck and can either stay as quiet as a nun or start babbling in a language you probably wouldn’t even understand because he’s so nervous

-Or actually, he might start crying with you if I’m being fair; he’s very in sync with his Henry and your emotions

-Once he calms down, he’s actually not all that bad at comforting. Levi is a bit stand offish with his hugs at first but he relaxes into them and by now, you’re both standing by the side of his bed, with you leaning onto him and him holding your hand. He then intertwines your fingers together but subconsciously because he wouldn’t have the gall otherwise

-Later, he tells you to help yourself with the snacks he has hidden in his room. I guarantee you he has a whole ass mini refrigerator hidden somewhere for his all night gaming session, in case he needs any boosts. No one knows how Beel hasn’t found the stash yet and there’s no need to tell him

-Then you watch re runs of old shows together and make fun of the shitty editing and dialogue. He’s still holding your hand though and he’s really flustered and wondering if it’s too sweaty for you but don’t mention it because he’ll get even more embarrassed

-He glances over to you, every once in a while, whilst you’re cuddled up against his arm, eyes glued on the TV, to make sure you’re OK. You almost gave him a seizure or at least that’s how he felt-so he made it his mission to make you feel better by any means necessary. Fuck today’s raids, his team can get them done without him!!

“I-I don’t know why you would want me of all people to hug you but…” he trailed off in a whisper, having to lean down so you could wrap your arms against his neck and bury your head in his shoulder. He pulled you in closer, a streak of protectiveness coursing through him as he shut the door to his room with his foot “Lord of the Shadows would never leave Henry all on his own, so I’m not going to do that either. This is an important character development arc and-just, please don’t cry. I’ll give you more hugs, OK? Seeing you like this is not good for my heart-“ stopped mid sentence after realising what he just said and now he’s the one burying his head in your shoulder, flushed beyond hell “Forget I just said that! Holy Lord Diavolo this is embarrassing, why am I like this????”

Satan:

-It troubles him greatly to see you like this and he can sort of feel the world shift out of place, seeing you with tears running down your face and hands balled into fists out of frustration almost immediately makes him fly into a fit of rage because who would dare to hurt you-

-Oh, a hug? If that’s all you need, he’s more than happy to oblige but if you’re as distraught as you seem to be, he wonders if just a small embrace from him would be enough

-Satan’s hugs are very intimate and even passionate at times. He has one hand on the back of your head and the other supporting your lower back while you bawl your eyes out into his shoulder and getting his uniform wet

-You can’t really seem to focus on what he’s trying to tell you because he’s so warm and welcoming and even though he’s someone as renowned as the Avatar of Wrath, he’s shockingly patient with you as you let out the overwhelming emotions that have been consuming you all day

-It’s hard to not relax when you’re in Satan’s presence because he’s calm and he smells like musty, old books and mahogany wood and cats, meaning he was most likely cuddling strays he found on the street the entire day. The first visual that comes to mind is fire crackling behind a grate in a chimney and someone reading a book while swinging back and forth on an old, rickety chair when you’re around him

-He will wait until you’re no longer crying and then, before you know it, you find yourself in the library with him, drinking tea and being handed a plate of biscuits he took from the kitchen to help you regain your strength after all that crying. You’re still feeling pretty miserable about the day you’ve had but you quickly lose yourself in a conversation with him over a cup of tea

-Sometimes, you two talk for hours on end about nothing important just to hear each other’s voices and finally have some quality time spent together. Even though he wishes the circumstances were better, he’s glad to have been able to snatch you away from his brothers for a while and he’s even happier you chose him to confide in

-Satan practically doesn’t even mention your outburst and keeps the small talk minimal but he wants you to know that if you do wish to tell him about it, he’s more than happy to listen and he’s not so bad at giving advice either

-The topic of the discussion you were having with him changed abruptly by the end of the night and now you’re reading together from this book he started a while ago, both of you covered with a blanket, your head on his chest and his leaning on yours. He’s holding the book with both of his hands, but still managed to get his left wrapped around you. And because of this feeling of safety and warmth, you don’t feel desperate anymore. Tomorrow, you’ll be able to sort out your feelings but now, you’re content to just listening to Satan read, in his clear, soft voice

“Ah MC, could you turn the page for me?” You do as he asked to and you could feel him smiling as he kissed your hairline, sighing before going back to the book and the story within “Thank you. You truly are amazing, did you know that? I’ve never met someone as caring and as kind as you. Well, I suppose Beel could compete for the title but unlike him, you don’t really leave us in debt whenever we visit the grocery store.” Hearing you laugh makes him smile even more and he lets you hold the other side of the book while he plays with your hair and now you join in reading with him, out loud and trying to act out voices for the characters. As everything unfolds, Satan feels the world click right back into place.

Asmo:

-It’s a known fact by now that Asmo is willing to give you any sort of affection at any point in time, whether it’d be a hug, a kiss, holding your hand-you name it! I mean, whenever he’s feeling down, you being there to encourage him helps a lot so it’s only natural it works the other way around too!

-If he notices that you’re genuinely upset by something, then he would have no problem whatsoever with lavishing you in attention and really, a hug or two from him is the bare minimum in situations like this

-In any case, he always enjoys fussing over you and you having a bad day is the perfect excuse for him to do so! After all, he can’t disappoint you since you came to him with your troubles and he will do anything in his power to make you feel better. Actually, if he could, he would keep hugging you forever but as miraculous as his charm can be, it’s not effective against someone with this low of a morale

-His first suggestion is to take a bath! It’s his way of taking care of you; you’re tired after such a long day and he feels like you’re neglecting yourself a little because of it. So you relax in his bathtub with him for a while, him actively trying to get your mind off any bad, lingering thoughts while you splash around in the bubbles

-And obviously after that, you need to have your mandatory spa sessions with him since you need to unwind and what’s a better way to do that than to let him paint your nails and apply lotion to your skin? Besides, it creates a great opportunity for you to take things off your chest

-He’s in need to hear gossip constantly so if you don’t feel like talking, he’s gonna be a bit bummed out but he still respects your wishes enough to not push you. If your problem is as sensitive as the death of a family member, you’re not obligated to talk to him about it and he will understand, since people grieve in different ways. He too shut down after the death of Lilith for a while after all

-A bad day is nothing Asmo can’t handle. He’s had plenty of those before, mostly because of Mammon and his thievery, they’re usually common factors. It’s only natural you experience those yourself and he’s more than willing to be your support system if you need one. He wants you to know that you can go to him if you need advice or help with anything, or even if you just need to someone to hear you out

-To give a more detailed explanation of his hugs, they are usually really light and you never feel suffocated when you’re in his arms. He never squeezes you too tight and he always smells amazing, so you feel inclined to stay near him for as long as possible. Despite his overtly loud nature, he gets incredibly soft spoken with you and he traces patterns on your back and arms as you stand there together

-It’s important to mention, he never pulls away from you first. He lets you decide when you’ve had enough and when you’re ready to move on or if you require some other means of comfort

-And even if you’re no longer disgruntled, he’s still going to pamper you as much as possible the next day with either a shopping spree or another few spa sessions, this time done at a professional institution rather than the privacy of his bedroom

-Asmo is in touch with your emotions and it’s kinda scary sometimes because of how well he can read you, since he almost always knows what you need

“Oh darling, how could I refuse a hug from you?” You can feel his arms embrace you, even with your eyes closed and for some reason, this makes you cry even harder, sobbing as he tries to comfort you. You’re aware he let go of you at some point and returned with a tissue to dab away at your tears, gently to not hurt your eyes and now he’s hugging you again, a wry smile on his face “You don’t have to worry about a thing, MC. Everything will get sorted out, I promise. In the meantime, come to me if anything troubles you again, OK? No more crying, darling-it’s bad for your eyes.”

Beel:

-The type to immediately lean in for a hug without even questioning why. As soon as you ask him, you barely have time to finish the question and you already find yourself in his arms. The only exception would be when he’s eating or maybe in the middle of a work out but the point is he doesn’t hesitate much when it comes to you. And I mean, he loves hugs just as much as his siblings do

-Beel is not the most observant and he may not realise you’re in a bad mood unless you tell him outright. It’s not even that he’s emotionally distant, it’s just that if you tell him that you’re fine, then he’s gonna take your word for it and believe you since he’s pretty straightforward with his feelings as well. However, as dense as he may be on occasion, even he’s bound to notice that you’re not being your usual self and this is especially true if you start crying out of nowhere while he’s nearby. Probably assumes the worst and is under the impression that he did something to upset you because shifting the blame onto himself whenever others suffer is his coping mechanism and we’ve seen him to do it before

-If you’ve just had a bad day, he understands that things could’ve been very overwhelming for you and he wishes he had known sooner so he could’ve helped back then, instead of letting it come to this. But he doesn’t hesitate all that much since he looks like he’s built for giving hugs on a daily basis. I’m not even sure this would classify as a hug since you’re not touching the floor. Rather, you are attached to him like a koala and he’s carrying you around as if you were a baby strapped to his chest. And he genuinely doesn’t mind. He’s been doing it with Belphie for centuries now

-Please, after a while he gets seriously concerned because are humans supposed to cry this much? What if you dehydrate or something? So he makes you stay in bed and just gives you plenty of water. You look so pale and sad, he shares his food with you too because his heart is aching just looking at you like this. He feels like besides being there, he can’t provide you with much help and he’s starting to think he’s hopeless at comforting

-If a family member died then…Beel is one of the best people you could’ve gone to. Honestly, having dealt with his sister’s situation, he knows how horrible it is to lose somebody you love dearly (I mean, all the brothers do but I’m making a point saying Beel, Belphie and Lucifer were especially affected). Now he’s sad himself since he’s aware that you’re going through something similar and his twin might walk in on the two of you being emotional on the floor

-For the most part, Beel makes sure you keep yourself healthy even when you’re tired and depressed. Continues to bring you food, even if he eats half of it on his way to your room, and just keeps you company in general in case you get lonely. Seeing you upset makes him even more considerate of your feelings and you don’t have the heart to tell him that he doesn’t need to stay with you all night. He thinks he does because you’ve always offered to stay with him whenever he’s had nightmares before so how he’s gotta return the favour

-Beel gives these bear hugs all the time, since he’s so big and his hand basically covers your entire back. So, more often than not, you end up cuddling while standing because he’s a lot taller than you, with him being a demon and all. Despite that, you feel so unbelievably complete when he holds you like this. It’s hard not to feel protected since his whole body is practically concealing yours so easily all the time and you feel sheltered from the world and it’s….nice

-And Beel enjoys hugging you too, because he knows that as long as he’s nearby, you’ll be safe and that’s really all he needs. He wants to be there for you the same way you were there for him when he needed it most and comforting you when you’re having a shitty day is like his full time job

-You could come to Beel with any problem and he would never judge you, no matter what. He’s just really unproblematic and he just wants you to go back to your normal self because it hurts him to see you cry your eyes out. Now, not only are hugs mandatory but holding your hand is too. It’s like hugging…but your hands are doing the hugging

-Definitely even goes to Belphie after a while if he really doesn’t know what to do and that’s how you know he’s desperate to do something. Since the Seventh Born isn’t exactly someone that yields great advice, more so when it comes to other…people….and his twin knows this-

-Beel’s best strategy at the moment is to just maintain some kind of physical contact because he discovered that makes you feel better and it calms you down more than him trying to verbally console you. He even invited you to sleep in his room if you’re comfortable doing so just so you’re not alone. After that one incident, he’s trying to coax you to tell him whenever something is wrong so he can jump in and help, because that’s all he really wants to do ahakenksms

“MC? Did something happen?” He’s honestly taken aback by how shaky you are and how you’re hands are trembling as they’re reaching to connect with his. Without much of a warning, he feels a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach and now he discovers that he doesn’t like seeing you with tears trailing down your face. And he feels worse the longer you wail in his chest and he doesn’t know what to do. So, he wraps his arms around you so tight you think you might explode, strangely comforted by the feeling as he speaks again “I’m sorry if I’ve done something to upset you. What can I do to help, MC? We can just stay like this for a while if you want” And when he sees you nod, he proceeds to not move an inch almost the entire night. Obviously, hunger overtook him eventually but he shared his stolen goods with you so can you really complain? Doubtful, not when he hasn’t let go of your hand the whole time.

Belphie:

- Hugging him is a gamble. Realistically speaking, you’re not going to catch him standing upright long enough for you to give him a hug. He’s laying on the floor somewhere, asleep so you shouldn’t expect much from him to begin with. Even if you were to get lucky and stumble upon him while he’s wide awake, he might slump over and succumb to sleep the moment you embrace him because you’re so warm

-Cuddling is a different story altogether. He’d rather shoot himself in the foot than not have you cuddle with him so if you need to be babied for once, he’s a pretty good option to consider

-As usual, he’s in the attic and you go to him because it’s really late and you didn’t want to wake up any of the other brothers. Actually, Belphie is normally awake by dusk so to see him sleep like a log past midnight was quite surprising. You didn’t exactly want to interrupt but if you stayed alone for any longer, you would’ve gone insane. So you shook him awake. And he was understandably confused and probably forgot what planet he was on for a minute when you did so

-Technically, he was half awake and from his point of view, everything must’ve been pretty blurry. He did see you; the problem was that because he was still feeling very sleepy, he was basically in a daze and could only squint at you to try and figure out if you were really there or if he was hallucinating. His suspicion was confirmed soon enough because he reached out after a few seconds and poked your cheek just to check. His face the entire time and the action itself was so amusing that, despite tittering on the edge of a breakdown, you burst out laughing

-Once he came to the conclusion that you were, in fact, real and he wasn’t dreaming, he sighed and opened his arms out for you; a direct invitation to cuddle with him. By now, he likely didn’t even noticed you looked sad because, as I said, he was all over the place but this little ritual you two have was common enough that it got engraved in his memory. Now he does it out of impulse whenever you’re around and he wants attention

-So you basically tackled him and threw yourself on top of him so hard, both of you toppled over on the bed and now you were used as a blanket, with his arms wrapped securely around you; preventing you from getting up. Not that you were planning on doing that anytime soon but moving on-

-You thought he had fallen back asleep, because he went really quiet and he stopped squirming to get comfortable. To be exact, the whole room was rather still and the only thing you could really hear was Belphie’s soft breathing and the rustle of the bedsheets every once in a while. And since it was extremely dark as well, you couldn’t see a thing either so it felt like the best place to let go of your stress

-It’s not like you were making much noise but as I said, the seventh born wasn’t sleeping just yet. And he wouldn’t be able to because it was obvious to him now that something was wrong. He believed that he was bearing witness to something that should’ve been a lot more private than this so he didn’t say anything. You should have your moment, let you have a chance to recollect your thoughts and the next day, he might ask you

-It was too much to handle. It’s not like he was gonna get any sleep unless he knew your problem was solved otherwise he might get nightmares all night. Besides, if you’re crying this much, then something terrible must’ve happened. You realised he was awake when he gave your entire body a small squeeze, as if to reassure you and you froze because did you just wake him up???? Or worse, did he hear all that sobbing you were doing????

-Hugging him is similar to hugging a pillow. He’s soft and squishy and warm and it’s impossible to resist him when rest at a time like this is so tempting. His fingers running over your pact mark once or twice, as if to remind you that he’s right there and low whispers describing the best dream he ever had about you, hoping to distract you for long enough to help you fall asleep

-To him, it doesn’t make a difference if a family member died or if you’re just having a bad day. All he knows is that you’re having a lot of emotional problems because of either one and as a result, you need a shoulder to lean on. He’s glad that you trust him enough to let him assist and if it was up to him, he would keep cuddling you forever. You’ve already suffered enough so let him take care of you this time around, OK?

“Dumbass, why are you crying?” The gentleness of his words was a clear contrast to that quick insult he shoved at the beginning of his statement, though you couldn’t hear any malice behind it and the fact that he really cared about what happened to cause you to struggle with your emotions so badly, would’ve made you wail even harder. However, he managed to silence you pretty well because he kept speaking and you wanted to listen; you wanted to hear what he had to say so you reduced your sobs and you sat quietly enough to do just that. Belphie flipped you over, now with him on top and you underneath and he laid there, cheek sloshed against yours as he sleepily mumbled out more praise for you, “MC, are you tired? You should go to bed, you need to get some sleep. Tomorrow, you can tell me what the problem is and I’ll help. I promise-I’ll even get up early for you. Just…please calm down. I don’t want to see you crying yourself to sleep ever again. I’ll stay here the entire time, alright? And I’ll make sure you have nice dreams tonight MC…just let me hold you…”

[queerquintessence]

heyo

so i recently have been obsessed with the idea of the voltron paladins living in the same house together sooo

i may or may not have spent the last like 3 hours working on headcannons

the characters in the house are keith, lance, hunk, pidge, and allura

(since they’re all relatively similar in age)

so sadly no shiro or coran but

anyway

yeah here they are

(once again a bit unorganized but it’s whatev)

• first off allura and lance are both housewifes

• and neither of them take any shit from the others

• allura: keith, could you pick your feet up? i’m trying to vacuum down here

• keith, sitting on the couch: couldn’t you just do it later

• allura:

• allura: move your feet or i’m telling lonce you have a crush on him

• hunk does the dishes most of the time because he’s mainly the one who cooks their food

• but they also alternate on a schedule

• lance, sighing dramatically: i do everything around here! keith, when was the last time you washed the dishes?

• keith: i literally washed them last night

• lance: well you missed a plate so it doesn’t count

• keith takes out the trash a lot except he doesn’t wear shoes so his feet are always dirty

• lance yells at him for it

• whenever lance takes out the trash he puts on whoever’s shoes are closest

• pidge: lance are those my shoes?

• lance, tiptoeing in sneakers that are 3 sizes too small: maybe

• the couch that they own is too small to fit everyone

• they either argue for 10 minutes over who gets to sit where or they just pile on top of each other

• pidge usually lays on top of someone’s lap when it gets crowded

• she can just flop on top of someone and they’ll just let her- no words spoken

• keith sits on the armrests and everyone gives him shit for it

• lance: aren’t you uncomfortable?

• keith: i like sitting here

• lance: alright edgelord

• lance lays with his legs sprawled on top of the couch

• sometimes pidge will lay on lance who will have his legs on keith

• hunk is fine with sitting on the floor but even he’ll start arguing over the good spot on the couch

• hunk: lance, buddy, you sat there last time- why not give someone else a turn?

• lance: hunk when was the last time you did your own laundry? huh. that’s what i thought

• dinners pretty chaotic

• that’s usually when they have their debates

• lance, pounding his fist on the table: mac and cheese is to be eaten with a fork and that’s that

• pidge: why the hell would you use a fork? spoons are just fine in my opinion

• keith, silently munching on his food knowing he eats it with a knife:

• pidge: alright, we need to acknowledge the elephant in the room

• everyone:

• pidge:

• pidge: keith, you gotta stop putting corn syrup on your peanut butter sandwiches it’s fucking weird

• allura: everyone in favor of limiting lance’s shakira privileges say I

• keith, pidge, and hunk: I

• lance, who’s totally offended: wh

• luckily, they all have their own rooms

• except the walls are super thin

• lance scream singing beyoncé: GOT ME LOOKING SO CRAZY RIGHT NOW YOUR LOVES GOT ME LOOKING SO CRAZY RIGHT NOW

• keith: why has god forsaken me

• even when they try to play music relatively quiet it can still faintly be heard

• muffled music from keith’s room: when i was, a young boy

• pidge: HA fucking EMO

• they all have Alexa’s in their rooms

• and pidge has access to all of them on her laptop

• pidge: psst- hey lance, watch this

• pidge: *fast typing on laptop*

• blasting from keith’s room: COUNTRYYY ROAAADS TAKE ME HOOOOME

• muffled keith screaming: pIDGE I SWEAR TO GOD

• in the morning during breakfast

• allura: why has lonce not come out of his room yet?

• pidge: hang on, i’ll wake him up

• lance’s alexa in the distance: I’M A GOOFY GOOBER YEAH YOU’RE A GOOFY GOOBER YEAH

• lance’s startled scream is then followed by a loud thud

• once a week they have a movie night

• keith: lance i am not watching a cheesy romcom for the 2nd week in a row

• lance: i have to listen to ‘welcome to the black parade’ eighteen times a day sit the fuck down

• keith, crossed arm for the duration of movie night: this love story is completely unrealistic

• everybody shushes him on cue

• they also have monthly sleepovers in the living room where they giggle like middle schoolers

• keith knocks over an entire bowl of popcorn

• allura discovers the concept of a pillow fight and effortlessly knocks everybody to the ground

• lance flops on the air mattress and launches pidge across the room

• while everyone is trying to sleep

• lance: guys guys i’m gonna say something

• lance:

• lance: mayonnaise

• everybody loses their shit laughing because it’s 2 in the morning and they’re sleep deprived

• the bathroom sink is a mess

• their toothbrushes are color coordinated

• since they have to fit so much shit on the sink they have specific spots where they put their stuff

• pidge: hunk, your toothbrush is in my spot

• hunk: what? no- this corner of the sink is mine

• the debate results in all of them crowded in the bathroom arguing for 10 minutes

• keith: i don’t even remember having a designated spot on the sink

• allura: we need a toothbrush holder

• sometimes they do their nightly routines together

• which is also chaotic

• lance is applying a face mask, which drips onto pidge’s arm

• pidge then jerks her arm away- hitting keith’s toothbrush

• it then catapults off the counter and sticks to the wall

• keith: i left the room for one second what the hell did you do

• i’ve seen this headcannon somewhere before and i love it so i’m elaborating

• whenever keith is tired he’s giddy and hyper and loopy

• keith after not having a good nights sleep for 3 weeks, getting a running start and flipping onto the couch: a woop

• pidge: what in fucks name are you doing

• lance is the same exact way when he’s tired so they act like complete and utter idiots

• keith: lance, hey lance guess what

• lance: what

• keith:

• lance:

• they both burst out laughing

• lance: keith, omg you know what- keith rhymes with teeth

• keith:

• keith: holy shit

• eventually they both burn out and are just exhausted

• lance with his face planted in the carpet: uuuggghghggg

• allura: you finally done?

• lance: *angry muffled grumbling*

• pidge tends to fall asleep anywhere in the house

• usually with her computer on her lap or nearby

• she’s usually discovered the next morning

• hunk walking into the kitchen, sleepily rubbing his eyes: kinda want some orange juice

• pidge is just asleep on top of the fridge

• everyone else eating breakfast at the table

• keith: has anyone seen pidge?

• soft snoring is heard from under the table

• keith: ah

• they just put up with each other’s bullshit all day everyday and i love it

• lance, slamming his bedroom door open: everyone in my room i had a nightmare and need affection

• everyone emerges from their rooms grumbling and all file into lance room with their pillows and stuffed animals

• pidge trying to keep the remote away from lance: go long, hunk!

• keith appearing in the doorway and getting hit straight in the forehead with a remote: fUCK

• lance: are those my socks?

• keith: huh? oh, i dunno they were in my laundry pile

• lance: no those are totally my socks give them back right now

• when they all moved in together it was before keith and lance started dating so obviously there was shipping

• pidge, bursting into hunk’s room: i have klance tea

• hunk: spill

• lance: wh- keith and i are NOT dating

• pidge: you guys literally live together!

• lance: WE ALL LIVE TOGETHER

• allura, to hunk during dinner: i don’t know about you, but it seems to me like keith has a thing for lance

• keith: princess you’re not even whispering we can all hear you

• keith and lance secretly holding hands under the dinner table while lance is telling a story

• lance, being dramatic and expressive, lifts his hands in the air to accidentally reveal that his hand is intertwined with keith’s and its immediate chaos

• keith letting go immediately: wH HUH HOW DID THAT GET THERE

• pidge: I FUCKING TOLD YOU

anywayyy that’s all

i literally love this so much so don’t be surprised if i come up with some more later

yeah

bye

[mymedicine]

Occam’s Razor

5.6k of surfer harry and y/n, mostly fluff, frenemies to lovers type beat

moodboard

warnings - marijuana usage, swearing, very light sexual language, lotsa teasing, harry being really sassy

notes - this started as a little blurb for @majorharry‘s 20k fic celebration and then it spiraled out of control into this very self-indulgent fantasy. I used the prompt “You’re lying. I can tell when you look at me like that.” Cass’s work inspired me to start writing harry fic in the first place, so if you enjoy this, you have her to thank! <3

more notes - fair warning y’all, I’m not a stoner by any means. i’ve been high like twice in my life and i cried both times so please forgive any inaccuracies in the smoking department. that being said, I urge you to click this link to learn about the decriminalization of cannabis in the US and how you can help correct the injustices associated with it. ok, yes I will shut up now please enjoy!

Island life was a dream come true for Y/N.

There was no sound she loved more than the crashing of waves against the shore, no smell more lovely than the salty aroma of beach air, and no sight more beautiful than the bright sunrise from her home two blocks away from the sand. She squinted at the rising sun as she rode the familiar route to the beach, surfboard clutched underneath one arm. With the other, she steered her trusty bicycle—the only form of transformation she needed on the island. All she ever needed to do was go back and forth from home to work at the surf shack on the beach and back again, with an occasional Target run in between when she was low on mangoes for her smoothies.

It was a perfect morning for an easy surf. Not too hot, not too windy. Just pale skies and a gentle summer breeze bringing peaceful energy to the tiny shack on the sand. She approached the back of the shop, clutching her board a little tighter as she rode over the uneven beach terrain. When she reached the wooden structure, she deposited her bike and board out back before waltzing inside through the back door.

“Morning, H!” Y/N yelled into the room, gripping the strap of her backpack over one shoulder.

From the main shopping area of the store, a curly head popped into the back room. “You’re late,” he replied, pushing his sunglasses through his already messy hair and perching them on the crown of his head. He sauntered into the back room, following Y/N over to their shared locker in the corner.

“C’mon Harry,” Y/N shrugged him off, “island time.”

In truth, neither of them really cared about her being a few minutes late to their agreed meeting time. The store didn’t open for hours and even then, the owner wouldn’t mind. It also didn’t hurt that said owner was none other than Harry’s mother.

“'S pretty out today,” Y/N continued, shoving her backpack into the locker they stored their stuff in during the day. “Should be plenty of nice hollows to play around in before—”

“My smoothie better not be melted,” Harry interrupted her just as she was pulling two thermoses out of the bag.

He was smirking, obviously uninterested in what she was saying and instead transfixed with the sweet drinks in her hands. Y/N rolled her eyes at him. Harry may not have been the most gracious company, but he was company at least. Island life was simple, relaxed, and perfect for Y/N, but it’d be lonely if it weren’t for him. He also consistently supplied her with decent weed and excellent board wax, which certainly didn’t hurt his case. In return, she brought him a mango smoothie every day. As underpaid and overworked coworkers, symbiosis and a shared love for the ocean kept their friendship relatively intact.

“Just for that, you’re not getting it until after dawn patrol,” she taunted, rattling the thermos above her head. She enjoyed the way his eyes followed the drink like a cat’s would a piece of yarn.

His tanned chest rose and fell as he inhaled an exasperated breath, jaw tight and eyes glinting with playful contempt. Along with his teasing expression, he wore only orange floral board shorts and the pair of sunglasses pushing back his curls. Y/N couldn’t help but notice his lack of clothing, even after months of working and surfing together nearly every day. Fuck, she thought, he just keeps getting hotter.

She couldn’t decide whether the fact that he was an actual work of art was helping her withstand his presence in her life, or if it was just simply torturing her with something she didn’t think she could have. Either way, his beauty was a constant distraction.

“Fine,” Harry taunted as Y/N put the drinks in the mini fridge beside the locker. “But just for that, I’ll out-surf your ass.”

~~~

Y/N laid with her cheek pressed down on her board, sighing as the hot sun gently warmed her wet skin. Dawn had brought plenty of excitement in the form of large, smooth waves, but by mid-morning the sea had calmed to a pleasant lull. She spread out her arms and let her fingers trail lightly in the water, finding comfort and solace in the coldness of it. Her board bobbed softly with the mellow waves, rocking her body like a mother rocking her baby. She could have fallen asleep if it weren’t for Harry’s sudden loud cursing coming from somewhere behind her.

“Y/N! Wake the fuck up!”

“I’m not asleep, asshole,” she called back, not moving from her peaceful position.

“C’mon, we’re already late. And s’ gonna rain so we have to pull in the racks.”

Y/N remembered the way the rising sun had been beating down on them all morning. She felt like she was being roasted out there in the humid air with her back exposed to the rays, not obstructed by even a single cloud. But the island weather was as volatile as it was beautiful, and the start of tropical storm season was imminent.

Y/N picked her head up and pushed her chest up on the board, observing the large, dark storm clouds in the distant horizon. I’ll be damned, she thought, he’s right. There was no way in hell she’d ever actually say that to him, though. Not with the way he was continuously taunting her from his place on his own board—“Y/N! Waaaakeeeey wakey! We have woooork!”

“Alright, Harry, shut up! I’m coming.”

Despite Harry’s incessant nagging, they both paddled to shore at a pretty lazy pace, trying to savor their last few minutes of peace in the water before having to deal with all the daily nuisances of customer service.

Anne’s shop on the beach was a hit with the locals and tourists alike. For years, she and Harry had been providing beachgoers with sunscreen and board wax and rash guards and even souvenir t-shirts and mugs, that sort of thing. Anne finally hired Y/N when they started selling bikinis two months ago and the business went through the roof. Having more customers was great, but it meant there was more work to be done.

Y/N and Harry approached the store, dragging their boards with their hair still dripping wet and feet caked with sand. There was a boy lingering outside, dressed in a tank top and board shorts that both looked half a size too big on his skinny frame. They both recognized him immediately—he was a regular at the beach but kind of a shubie, which deeply irritated Harry. Y/N wasn’t Tyler’s biggest fan either; it pissed her off a little when he’d show up bright and early before Anne, Harry or herself had even arrived to open up. But she was at least less hung up on it than Harry was.

“I got him,” Y/N told Harry. “Can you start on the racks? Don’t need you chasing away our best customer.”

Little did Y/N know, Harry disliked the guy for more reasons than just the facts that he showed up ridiculously early to the store and that he tried to dress like a surfer and hang with the locals but was too much of a pussy to go near the water.

While Y/N was tending to Tyler, Harry begrudgingly began pulling in the clothing racks stocked with t-shirts that Anne liked to keep outside in front of the shop. During last year’s rainy season, he’d have to pull the damn things inside nearly every other day. He glared through the open front door at Tyler while he interacted with Y/N, making her use the pole to reach one of the tank tops hung high up on the wall. “Interacted” was a soft way to put it, he reckoned. It could not possibly be more obvious that he was flirting with her.

It only annoyed Harry because he knew he was about eight thousand times better than Tyler on literally all levels, yet the boy still got to enjoy Y/N’s attention for as long as he wanted (he was a paying customer, after all). All while she was none the wiser. Harry loathed the way his eyes lingered on her chest, especially since today she hadn’t had time to put her coverup on before having to get the fucking tank top for him.

Y/N’s head snapped away from Tyler and his incessant talking when a loud crashing sound rang out. Harry was already looking at her from the doorway, face twisted with irritation. One of the racks was crashed into the wall beside him, leaving a few fallen shirts scattered on the floor.

“You missed the door, H.” Y/N laughed at him. She was amused by the grumbling noises he was making as he struggled to yank the rack through the door frame.

“You wanna do this yehself then? ‘F you just gonna make fun of me…” He frowned, voice getting fainter as he disappeared outside to grab the last rack.

“Sorry about him,” Y/N turned back to Tyler, who was waiting patiently for her to scan and neatly fold the top he was buying.

The boy flashed her a charming smile. “S’ fine. I’m not here for him.”

Y/N was not an idiot. She noticed his flirting, but didn’t take it remotely seriously. He was far too young for her. He was thinner than she preferred. His hair was too blonde, skin too pale and clean of any ink. And, well, he wasn’t Harry.

She kind of hated that everyone had to be compared to Harry in her mind, but she couldn’t help it. He was a masterpiece. Her gaze followed him as he sauntered back into the store, picking up fallen merchandise here and there before strolling right past her, into the back room.

Y/N sent Tyler a tightlipped smile when she realized she’d been inadvertently ignoring him. She felt his eyes on her as she finished the transaction. He took the bag from her outstretched arm, but his presence lingered even after she’d given him a polite yet dismissive “Have a nice day.”

“I’m Tyler, by the way,” he began, and Y/N internally groaned. He’d introduced himself several times already during the past few weeks. She was nicer about it than Harry, sure, but fuck she did not want to entertain this kid’s advances. “And you’re—“

“Y/N!” Harry’s voice called from behind her, interrupting Tyler rather rudely in the middle of his sentence. Harry appeared at her side as if she’d conjured him up by thinking about him. She be lying if she said she minded the interruption. “Here’s your smoothie from the back,” he said with a charming smile.

Harry produced one of the thermoses and presented it to her as if it were a prize. He knew he was the real winner though—one look at Tyler’s dejected expression confirmed that much.

“Oh! Thank you, Harry,” Y/N chirped, trying desperately to thank Harry with her eyes while still remaining diplomatic. “I was just finishing up with Tyler here.”

The blonde boy looked between Harry and Y/N, lingering for only a few more seconds with his anxious fingers twisted in the plastic bag he was holding. “Right,” he stuttered, “er…you guys have a good one…” And he backed away from the store.

Y/N turned back to Harry as their customer left. She took the thermos from his hand before playfully scolding him. “That was rude, Harry.”

"He was being rude first. He wouldn’t leave.” Harry shrugged, sipping his own smoothie and swooping back into the back room before Y/N could tease him on his poor excuse.

The Tyler ordeal aside, the work day passed as all the others did. Maybe a little less busy than usual due to the impending storm. By early evening, the tourist crowd at the beach had thinned considerably. One or two local surfers lingered in the water as the dark clouds began to roll in and slowly hide the sun. Harry and Y/N watched them absently from their places behind the counter, sitting beside each other on matching stools.

Y/N took in the view. Even painted an ominous shade of dark gray, the horizon brought a serene wave of calm over her. This was where she belonged, and she was sure of it.

“Whatcha lookin’ at?” Harry asked, noticing the far away look in her eyes.

“The water,” Y/N replied. It was true—she was looking at the water. But she was really looking beyond it, taking in the entire scene. The lull of the crystal blue ocean, the fading sunlight hitting the palm trees, the soft sand being pelted with raindrops, even the display case of I <3 2 SURF mugs that was mildly obstructing her view out the window. She turned to face him and, of course, he fit right in. He was an integral part of her vision, the beautiful fantasy that she was lucky enough to be living in.

He smiled at her. “’S pouring fuckin’ buckets, Y/N. There’s water everywhere.”

She laughed at his joke, happy to slip back into her real-life daydream.

“What should we do, then? No one’s gonna be coming to the beach.”

“I dunno. Play a game?” Last rainy season, Harry had been alone in the shop. Those past lonely days felt like an entirely different lifetime. In this one, Y/N was his present. His here and now.

He stood from the stool and crouched down to survey the shelves underneath the counter. Anne kept random necessities like water bottles and fruit snacks and a flashlight and…yes! A deck of Uno cards.

Y/N sighed dramatically. With Harry, she knew even a simple little game for kids would quickly spiral into momentous occasion.

“Well if I’m gonna have to play this game with you, there’s no way I’m doing it sober.” With that, Y/N didn’t hesitate to hop off her own stool and head to the back room to retrieve her backpack.

Harry raised his eyebrows, amused by the suggestion. Maybe it was irresponsible to get high when the shop was technically still open for another hour, but what the hell. The crowd had already been thinning for hours. 

“We’re gonna smoke in my dear mother’s shop?” Harry mused.

“We? Did you want one?” Her voice was teasing, growing clearer as she returned from the back room. She perched herself back in her stool and began to prepare a single joint for herself.

“Love, I literally provide you the weed. Of course I fuckin’ want one.”

“Okay, sassy. You can do it yourself if you’re gonna be a dick about it.”

So, he did. And naturally, the task turned into a heated race between the two. The pelting rain outside was an appropriate soundtrack for a race which Y/N, distracted by the way Harry’s nimble fingers packed the rolling paper and pink tongue slipped out to seal the edge, was destined to pathetically lose.

“Hah,” said Harry once he’d twisted the tip, flourishing the finished joint between them for himself to admire.

Y/N rolled her eyes as she finished her own, “Whatever, Harry. I out surfed you this morning and I’ll out smoke you tonight.”

“Well then I’ll have to beat your ass at Uno.”

“Game on.”

They played six rounds of Uno, taking hits in between turns until they were both high as kites. They lost interest in the middle of round seven when Y/N accidentally knocked the deck off of the counter, scattering the cards all over the floor. Even though they each had an even three wins under their belt, neither wanted to pick up the cards, so they agreed to a truce. The pitter-patter of rain and whooshing sound of high winds continued as Harry was muttering in a low voice—something about him dreading having to clean up all the cards tomorrow—but Y/N wasn’t really listening at all.

The high disintegrated the invisible barrier between them, effectively magnifying their usual playful touches into prolonged caresses. Y/N had one leg draped over Harry’s lap, perfectly placed for his massive hands to clutch her calf and gently massage her skin in tune with his soft ramblings. His touch sent sparks flying deep in her belly. He was everywhere, his presence so commanding she was almost disoriented by euphoria. She only fell back down to earth when she realized the comforting din she’d gotten used to had gone silent.

“Listen, H. It’s stopped raining.”

He silenced his mellow prattling and stood from the stool, making Y/N frown a little at the loss of touch. She watched him as he moved over to the window, resting his palms on the sill and peering through the glass at the beach. “Not for long. Look at the clouds.”

She followed his movements, wandering over to him and then tugging one of his arms off the sill. Craving his touch, she effortlessly wedged herself in between his body and the window—a move that would have made sober Harry a little flustered. But his fuzzy brain allowed him to relax into the feeling of her body against his. He lifted his arm to point at the second cluster of storm clouds approaching the beach from the horizon, in turn pressing his bicep to her shoulder.

“Hm,” Y/N surveyed the incoming clouds. “Maybe I should get home while it’s stopped. No one’s coming to the shop when ’s pouring out.”

“Yeh gonna ride your bike high?” Harry mused. “Don’tcha think that’s kinda unsafe?”

She didn’t think so, really. But she’d be lying if she said she didn’t want an excuse to hang out with Harry some more, especially now that they were standing way closer than necessary and she could once again feel his bare skin against hers. “I guess…” Y/N trailed off, distracted by the high coursing through her and the feeling of his arms around her. They were strong from years of propelling himself through the sea water, hot and tan from the hours spent in island sun.

“Fancy a dip to sober you up?”

She paused to ponder the offer, putting considerable effort into focusing on thinking rather than feeling his body. The water did look as inviting as ever now that the rain had let up—temporarily, at least.

“Okay.”

The words had barely left her mouth before Harry was moving eagerly away from her. Y/N stumbled out the door behind him, struggling to keep up while he excitedly meandered down the sand on unsteady legs. Halfway there, Y/N gave up on trying to catch up. She shed her board shorts and sandals right there on the sand, leaving her in her bikini top from earlier and matching bottoms. As she waded into the sea, part of her was regretting skipping the rash guard that morning as the salt water stung the reddening skin on her exposed stomach.

Harry was feeling a similar pain on his own bare abdomen, but he paid it no mind as he bounced through the white water. Instead he took in the twinkling sea and the early evening sunset, appreciating the way the pink clouds reflected in the water. It was so pretty, he thought, endorphins flooding his brain. Might be the prettiest fuckin’ sight I’ve ever seen…

Suddenly, Harry’s reverie was rudely interrupted by a cold blast of salt water slapping him on the back.

“What the fuck?!”

He whipped around and there she was, waist-deep with her cheeky smile and challenging eyes giving her away. Of course she was guilty, there was no one else in the goddamn lagoon five minutes before another torrential downpour. He inched toward her, impishly preparing his own counter attack. She was giggling profusely as she, too, moved backward as if she were his prey.

When she’d backed up to where it was too deep for her to stand, she squeaked and lifted her hands up in front of her face to protect herself. The water was up to her cheeks, flushed with heat, with elation, and alighted by the setting sun. Harry splashed her mercilessly, both giggling like children as her attempts to thwart his attack failed. His head was spinning, melodic laughter and splashes resonating between them. She flung her arms blindly in and out of the water as he moved closer and, foolishly, he underestimated the power of blind luck. Harry spluttered and spat as salt water landed directly in his open mouth. He swatted with his hands, whipping his soaking wet hair around before playfully glaring at her. She was squinting and rubbing the salt water out of her eyes, but she still wore that cheeky, challenging grin.

“Right, tha’s it. Yeh in for it now.” he howled at her. He reached out for her waist, intending to pick her up and throw her into the white water to wipe that stupid victorious smile off her face.

It didn’t work, but how could he be upset when he was faced with her pretty head popping up out of the white water, face lit up with pure happiness? When he was laughing along with her, his heart threatening to burst out of his chest, all with the stunning background of the most beautiful beach sunset he’d ever seen?

The sun had long set by the time they decided to call it quits. It was getting cold and, as expected, it was starting to drizzle again. They marched up the damp beach together, walking side by side with their shoes in their hands. Neither of them had bothered to bring a towel and the once pleasant island wind was now biting their wet skin. Y/N picked up her pace to warm her muscles and keep up with Harry, whose longer legs were trudging through the sand up toward the shop.

“It’s pretty late…” Harry drawled, craning his neck to observe the bright shining moon that had taken the sun’s place.

Y/N took a few seconds to reply, panting from the exertion. “Yeah.”

“And ’s raining again…”

“Mmhm.” Y/N stole a sideways glance at him. He was smiling, as per usual. And he had that playful glint in his eyes that she adored.

“…Aaaand I live just up there…” He swung his arms like a child as he walked beside her, causing one of his flip flops to repeatedly whack one of her sandals in her grasp.

Endeared, Y/N cracked a smile of her own. “Right…”

“Do you wanna maybe…”

She stopped marching then, as they reached the front of the store. She was hit with the sudden realization that part of her fantasy was becoming real. There was no work to be done at this hour, no Tyler to pull tank tops for, no interruptions. Only Harry, her favorite distraction.

Taken with his own thoughtful musing, Harry walked a few more steps before realizing Y/N had stopped. He turned around to face her, and even in the darkness she could see the flush in his cheeks.

“…spend the night at mine?”

~~~

Harry lived even closer to the beach than Y/N in an even tinier studio. Anne of course had a house a few miles into town that Harry frequented, but he was a grown man. It was more than enough to be working for his mum. As much as he adored her, he did not want to live with her.

His place very much resembled the shack they worked in from the outside. Inside he had four walls, a window, a bed in the middle, an armchair in the corner, and a hammock strung out on the porch. Y/N briefly imagined herself lounging in it, maybe sipping a mango smoothie. It would have been very pleasant if not for the fact that it was just exposed enough to be catching the rain water. A brilliant idea sparked in her brain, one she couldn’t ignore.

“I’m g’na sleep in the hammock,” she declared.

“Uh, fuck no yeh not.” Harry replied immediately, equally as firm.

“Yeah I am. It’ll be nice.”

He huffed, setting his backpack on the nightstand and cursing when it slid off. Y/N failed to fight back laughter as she watched him struggle to fit his bag next to the antiquated lamp on the side table. He swore again, finally deciding to push the lamp to the corner of the table and nearly breaking it in the process.

Having successfully removed his shoes, he sat gingerly on the bed and sighed. “But—but…” He paused, shaking his head and letting out a flustered half-laugh. “It’s wet!”

“So?” Y/N teased with a knowing grin, pleased that he’d taken the bait. All she really wanted to complete her real life daydream was to hear him request for her to sleep beside him.

“Do you know what my mother would do to me if she found out I let you sleep outside in a hammock in the fuckin’ rain?”

Oh she knew. Anne would lose her goddamn mind. As kind and gentle as she was, she demanded respectfulness and courtesy from her Harry. She wouldn’t hesitate to fire her own son for misbehaving, or at least withhold his paycheck for a few weeks.

“Fine,” she gave in with a sigh, leaning her back against the far wall, “you’re right.”

He perked up, turning around sharply to face her. “Sorry, what was tha’?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, already knowing what he was getting at. She ignored him and began undoing the clasps on her own sandals, refusing to repeat herself. Admitting he was right once was far more than enough to feed his already giant ego.

“You said I’m… what? Couldn’t hear you properly…” He had the upper hand now, and he knew it.

“Shut up, asshole.” She tossed her shoe at him, and to her delight, it landed directly on his sunburnt face. Y/N laughed loudly as he swatted the air and proceeded to rub his cheek, grimacing.

“That’s not wha’ you said, you little bitch,” He sent her a pointed smirk but didn’t retaliate, too busy tending to his own wounded skin.

Y/N gasped playfully, “What was that you called me?!” she dropped her jaw, committing to the melodrama of it all, “What would your sweet mother do if she were to find out you called me the b-word?”

With that, the ball was back in her court. Victory just within her grasp.

The light pain in Harry’s cheek had faded, but his pride was still feeling it a little. As his hand moved away from his face, Y/N caught a glimmer of mischief flicking in his eyes. “Don’t bring her into this,” he smiled, “she’s an innocent.”

“No one’s safe.” Y/N fired back immediately, a playful grin pulling at her own cheeks.

“Yeah, you’re definitely not safe,” he taunted. He hauled himself off the bed with intent to exact his revenge on her. She had a lot to be guilty of—the shoe incident, the splashing episode she started, the name-calling, the relentless teasing, and mostly the way she was looking at him right then, with fondness and...lust, unmistakable in her eyes, that was making him lose his mind.

He had her cornered against the far wall. Two hands went out to catch her bare waist and release his wrath on her in the form of tickles. Y/N laughed violently, squirming in his arms and yelping, “Stop it, Harry!” Lust clouded his own still foggy brain as he glanced downward, eyes trailing down her bikini-clad chest to her waist where he held her firmly against him.

Y/N caught him, of course. She was staring at him just as intently. As always, she was enchanted by how beautiful he was. His hair was still damp and she was close enough to see bits of sand hiding in the curls. He was grinning wildly, eyes crinkling, cheeks flushed red, teeth adorably poking his pink bottom lip.

Without warning, he ducked his head pressed his lips to hers. Shock melted away as his mouth molded to hers, igniting an inferno in the pit of her stomach. Likewise, flames of passion were roaring within Harry as desperation took over for rational thought. He kissed her with the same eagerness and intensity with which they both would dive into the ocean, head first with no hesitation. His tongue was salty and sweet against hers. He tasted faintly like the sea and weed and mangoes—everything Y/N loved.

Which made it all the more difficult to pull away.

“We should stop,” she sighed but continued to accept the hot pecks he was dotting on her cheek, her jaw, her neck.

“Why?” he muttered against her skin, pruned hands squeezing her waist tighter.

“Because, we’re all salty and gross…” she wrapped her arms around his neck, anchoring his supple lips at the nape of her neck and shivering at the feeling he gave her. His lips were hot on her skin, lighting a blissful trail of fire wherever they went.

“I don’t mind.”

The pelting rain outside sounded distant to her, like background noise against the vibrations of Harry’s husky voice.

“Well...I do. Besides, we should talk about…whatever this is…” Y/N trailed off, thoughts evaporating into feelings, words melting into breathy whines.

“Wha’s there to talk about?” He pulled away from her neck but she didn’t let him go far. She held his sunburnt cheeks in her palms and let their noses brush against each other as he declared, “’S very simple. You’re in love with me.”

Y/N’s eyes widened and she let out a joyful laugh. She pulled away a millimeter, letting the back of her head graze the wall behind her as she continued to softly, nervously laugh, “You’re crazy, Harry. I’m not in love with you.” The lie tasted salty on her lips, as if the universe did not want to let her forget how delectable his own tasted against hers. She let herself gaze into his eyes, helpless against such a force so far beyond her control.

“You’re lying. I can tell when you look at me like that.”

She was sure he could feel her heart racing in her chest as she let out a breathy sigh, “Like how?”

“Like yeh want me to tell you you’re pretty and then fuck yeh into tha’ bed you fought me over.”

He smirked evilly as he said it, loving the way she shivered in his arms. She whined against his skin, way past pretending his words didn’t affect her. She shut her eyes and pressed another deep, languid kiss to his reddening bottom lip, unable to resist. “And what makes you so sure that’s love, H?” she whispered against his mouth.

“You’re kissin’ me like you’re in love with me, you’re looking at me like you’re in love with me, so, says Occam’s razor, yeh must be in love with me.”

“When did you become a goddamn philosopher?”

“‘M fuckin’ baked, Y/N,” he laughed, his breath tickling her cupid’s bow. “But ‘m also right. Yeh said it yourself.”

“Bullshit, you peaked a while ago.”

“Maybe I’m just fuckin’ smart then, Miss not-so-subtle-at-changing-the-subject.”

“Fine,” she deadpanned. And after a deep inhale: “I love you.”

Her voice was even, but a tsunami of feelings crashed in Y/N’s chest as the words left her lips—relief, joy, adoration, love.

An easy, knowing smile graced Harry’s mouth. “Spectaculah. I love y—“

“No,” she interrupted him with a peck on the lips, “tell me in the morning…when you’re sober. Then…”

She felt the heat rise up her throat and a smile pull at her lips at the vivid images running through her mind. The soft rays of morning sunshine peeking through the window, the sound of waves crashing in the distance, Harry’s naked chest against hers, his mouth muttering sweet, filthy praises across her chest, her tummy, the insides of her thighs…

“Sure thing, my love,” Harry laughed lightly. He had a feeling he knew exactly what was going on behind her red-rimmed eyelids. His own imagination was conjuring up dirty images of himself buried between her legs, basking in her salty skin and breathy whines. But there were softer thoughts, too. Fantasies involving sweet kisses pressed to her lips and her cheeks and the dulcet melody of her laughter and the feeling of her soft hands on his face. He saw her face while she was riding the biggest wave of the morning—lit up with a huge smile and eyes twinkling with the ocean’s reflection in them. He envisioned her soft lips stained orange with mango juice. He saw her cheeky, joyous grin when he was splashing her against the powdery pink backdrop of the sun setting into the sea. The prettiest fuckin’ sight I’ve ever seen.

Come morning, the first thing she heard was the crashing of the waves and Harry’s raspy voice in her ear.

“I’m in love with you, too.”

thank you for reading <3

please tell me what you think! I’d love to hear from y’all :D

informal taglist, aka a lovely bean who requested to be tagged: @fortrapsandfordaphne

[lokis-army-77]

If You Please

Chapter twelve

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2588

This is technically a reader insert but without the (y/n) and all that. She also has no name mentioned so feel free to imagine as you please.

Follow the reader through the events of the Captain America movies and experience her love for Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: none

Note: Normally I am the type of person to be date accurate when writing things and if you are too, I'm sorry. I messed up on the dates, so the battle of New York happens like a month after it should. This is also a short chapter because it's a filler and I'm trying to just get to the Winter Soldier but have everything make sense.

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Masterlist

A few days later I had received a small archivist job in the WWII department of the Smithsonian. Thankfully the made-up resume and a few fake SHIELD recommendations came in handy. I would officially start the following week after a few background checks were cleared. In my free time until then, I unpacked all the boxes in my apartment. It started to feel more homely and warm when all of my things filled up the space. When I didn’t feel like unpacking anything, I started taking long walks to the VFW building. I hadn’t joined in on any of the meetings yet, I just stood by the doorway and watched, listening to the stories people told.

One day that week as I stood back in the hallway after the meeting had ended, a man came up to me. He was a little taller than I was and had the brightest smile I had ever seen. I had watched him in the meetings before, he was usually the one hosting them, giving advice to all who needed it.

“I’ve seen you standing out here for the past three days, why don’t you come have a seat next time? It would be more comfortable than standing out here for an hour.” He said as he leaned his back against the wall right next to me.

“I have thought about it, but I tend to get here after you have started. I don’t want to interrupt anything by just barging in.” I said over my shoulder at him.

“You won't interrupt anything, just come on in next time, we’d be happy to have a new face around,” He pushed himself off the wall and walked down the hall.

After that, I ended up joining the meetings and even spoke a few times. I learned that the man who came up to me that day was Sam Wilson, pararescue, who had served two tours in Afghanistan. From the first day he came up and talked to me to now, we quickly became friends.

The days had turned into weeks and I was finally able to live relatively by my own means. The Smithsonian was great, in the archives, no one was really around and I could spend a whole day without any interruptions, which allowed me to just concentrate on what I was doing. After closing, I normally walked to meet Sam, who was usually way too excited to see me, even though we saw each other almost every day without fail.

“You’re late today.” I jumped, startled out of my thoughts at the sound of someone talking to me. I looked up, spying Sam standing next to one of the small trees outside the VFW building.

“What do you mean late?”

“I mean you usually get here at three-thirty. It's four right now.” He said looking down at his watch.

“Oh sorry, I didn’t realize. I've just been lost in my thoughts lately.” I sighed.

“I know we’ve only been friends for what? A month? But I already know when something is bothering you, What is it?”

“Nothing really, just my brother. Since moving here he's called at least twice a week to check up but it’s been radio silence for the past two weeks, he doesn't even answer when I try calling him. I'm just a little worried that something bad is going on, considering his job.”

“Well, maybe he’s just really busy at the moment, or he's somewhere he can't call you. You know how it is being out on those military missions.”

“I know, it’s just the last time we were apart on a mission,” I trailed off and looked up at Sam, he raised his eyebrows, quietly waiting for the end of the sentence. “Someone close to us passed. It’s still fresh in my mind like it happened yesterday. I was there that day and I was too far away to even know what had happened, now my brother and I aren’t even in the same vicinity as each other, there is no telling what could happen and it makes me nervous.”

He gave me a small apologetic smile and patted my shoulder before leading me from the tree where we stood to where his car was parked. “What do you say we hang out at mine and just watch some tv? Get your mind off things? Or we can talk about it, either way, it’s better than dealing with it alone.” I nodded my head and grabbed onto the car door handle as he unlocked it.

Walking through the front door after him I took a quick look around. It was cozy, way more decorated than I thought it would be for a man in his early thirties living alone.

“Make yourself at home. Do you want anything to drink?” He asked neck-deep in the fridge.

“Okay, I’ll just have some water,” I called out as I made my way further into the living room. The couch was backed up to the wall a few feet away from the dining room table. I sat down on it and scooted as close as I could to its right arm. A few moments later Sam came over with two glasses of water and a bag of chips. He handed me my drink before crashing down into his own seat. “Thank you,” I said before taking a long sip.

He nodded as he said “No problem.” Before he got himself really comfortable he searched around for the TV remote. As he pressed the ‘on’ button the TV came to life. “What in the world is that?” He sounded concerned so I quickly looked at the screen.

“Breaking: Attack on New York City. This afternoon at 2:15 several unidentified aircraft descended onto Earth's surface. Strange beings, some are calling aliens, Accompanied these ships and are causing havoc in Manhattan. Eyewitnesses have stated that they have seen Iron Man, and what seemed to be Captain America, leading a team of three others fighting back against the invaders. The battle seems to be over but updates are still coming in, let's take a look at some footage of the downtown destruction.” My eyes went wide and my heart stopped as I listened to what the reporter was saying. I kept my eyes glued to the screen as it changed to show a destroyed street. As the camera panned around I spotted Steve fighting against two of the creatures, before the clip quickly changed to show one of the large ships crashing into the New York skyline.

“Oh God Steve, what did you get into?” I murmured to myself.

“You say that like you know him personally.”

“Uhh.” I just gave him a wide-eyed look of surprise. “I do, he’s my brother.”

“Now really isn’t the time to be joking about things,” He gave me a pointed look.

“I swear I’m not joking, he really is my brother. I can explain later, I need to try and get a hold of him.” I pulled out the small flip phone from my pocket and dialed the number for Steve's cell phone, it rang and rang but no answer. I hung up quickly and dialed the number Fury gave me at the beginning of the month. After two rings he answered.

“I assume you are looking for Captain Rogers.”

“Where is he? Is he okay?” I tried to keep the worried tone from coming through in my voice.

“He’s fine. He is in the middle of a debriefing. I’ll tell him you called.”

“Okay, thank you.” As soon as the words left my mouth he gave a quick hum and then hung up. I looked over at Sam whose eyes hadn't left me at all. “Everything is fine, he's in a debrief so that means that whatever happened in New York is definitely over.”

“That’s good to hear, hopefully, those things don’t try to come back again.” He shook like a shiver ran down his spine. “Now please explain how Captain America, a man from the 1940s, is your brother.”

“I can hear the skepticism in your voice.”

He held his hands up in defense, “Hey, I'm not the one saying I'm the sister to a 90 something-year-old man.”

“Look, it’s a long story that I would rather not get into now but the short version is that I was born in 1921, Steve is my older brother, we both ended up taking the super-soldier serum and fought against HYDRA in the second world war. We ended up crashing a plane into some Ice in the Atlantic ocean and were found and unfrozen last October.” “If you are really Captain America’s sister, then why are you never mentioned in anything?” I looked at him and shook my head.

“Well for starters it was the forties and I was a woman fighting on the front lines. Credit is never given where it is due. But there is also the fact that I was a part of the SSR, which was very secretive, after I died.” I put my fingers up in air quotes, “They should have erased most, if not all the files on me, per protocol. The only reason Steve is well known is because of his time going cross country selling war bonds.” I paused for a second before quickly adding, “I’m sure if you look hard enough, you’ll find me in the history books somewhere.”

Sam just sat there not really saying anything. This was the first time I think he had ever been quiet for more than five seconds. I let out a deep sigh and stood, grabbing my bag from the floor. “Thanks for having me over, but I think I need to go. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He stood and walked me to the door.

“Don’t be late. I’ll see you.” Sam waved me off and I headed down the street.

About half a year later while sorting through some archive files, I came across Peggy Carter. I felt a pang in my heart as I stared at the photo of her standing next to Howard Stark. Other than Steve and Bucky, those two were my closest friends. I fell down a rabbit hole after that, finding any information on the two that I could find. They had both helped found SHIELD in 1965, they had both gotten married and had children of their own. Peggy's children had stayed out of the public eye, but in true Stark fashion, Howard’s son evidently took over the family business and was living the high life. I pulled out a newspaper from the stack I had on the table in front of me and was shocked at what I saw. The title read ‘Howard and Maria Stark Die in Car Accident’, I knew Howard most likely wasn’t alive anymore but seeing the photographs of the wrecked car in the newspaper cast a somber mood through the room.

I laid the paper down on the table and ruffled through more of the papers before determining that we had no information on if Peggy was alive or not. That sent me into a frenzy of looking through phone books to try and find her and calling every retirement home in DC that I could. The only lead I had to go off of was a small interview from a newspaper, talking to Peggy about the seventieth anniversary of V-E Day, stated that she was living in Washington, DC.

After eight failed calls, finally, on the ninth, I had finally found a home which had a Peggy Carter as a residence in room 204. I rushed to pack up my things and left my office early. I ran down the back hallways as fast as I could without drawing too much attention. When I made it out of the building I ran full speed to the road to hail a cab.

Amazingly the traffic was almost nonexistent and I made it to the retirement home in only ten minutes. I fumbled out of the cab and I raced through the front doors of the building. I must have startled the women at the front desk because as soon as I rounded the corner to the staircase, they were yelling after me. I took the steps three at a time in my haste to get to the second floor. I stopped running when I was outside of room 204. I couldn’t see anything clearly through the frosted window so I knocked hesitantly and slowly opened the door and stepped in.

There in the middle of the room, against the wall was a single bed. A woman laid there quietly with her eyes closed. The closer I came to her the more familiar she looked. I let out a relieved gush of breath. There she was, older now, but still the Peggy I once knew. I nervously grabbed one of the chairs in the corner of the room and brought it over to her bedside so I could sit. Gently I gave her a small tap on the hand before just holding it in mine. She stirred but her eyes never opened.

All of a sudden one of the nurses from downstairs came into the room, with an angry and shocked expression.

“Ma’am, You can't be in here. If you want to see a patient, you have to sign in.” I ignored her, my eyes trained on Peggy's face. The commotion of the woman barging into the room had made her open her eyes and look around. I just watched as she scanned the room, first to the door on the left, to the wall in front of her, past me sitting on her right, then to the window behind me.” Her brows raised and she lifted her hands to her eyes to rub. The shock on her face was evident as she turned her head to stare directly at me.

“Hey Carter, long time no see huh?” I gave her the biggest smile that I could.

“Is it really you?” She reached her hand out to mine and grabbed hold.

“It is, it’s really me.”

“Ma’am, I mean it, you can't be here.” The nurse tried again, this time Peggy shot her a glare.

“Ms. I’ll have you know this is one of my best friends and she can be in here if she wants to. Now leave us alone.” The young nurse nodded her head and rushed out, even in old age she could still put on that commanding tone that struck fear in every man. She slowly turned back to me, almost like if she looked back for me, I would be gone. “How? How are you here?”

“It’s a long story Peg, are you sure you want to hear it?”

“Look where I am, I have nothing but time.” She laughed out and I let out my own small laugh as I shook my head.

In addition to what I had been doing, like hanging out with Sam, after that first visit, I made it a priority to see Peggy once or twice every two weeks, depending on how she was doing. Dementia had put a lot of stress on her, and seeing me after almost seventy-five years and looking relatively the same as I had when frozen took out a giant toll on her.

And that's how the next 10 months went until Steve eventually moved into an apartment directly under me.

Tag List: @ginger-swag-rapunzel @underc0vercryptid-reads @geek-and-proud @intothesoul @leyannrae @starkleila

[crashbandicunttt]

So, I wrote this Borra smut fanfiction upon no one’s behest. lmao. I just love Bolin so much and thought if the writers paired him canonically with Korra, I imagine their energy would be just chaotic in a good way. Plus, that Borra date montage just really has me in a chokehold, especially the way Bolin looks at Korra. let me die. 

FIRST

A Bolin x Korra smut fanfiction. 

E rating. 

Set in a mix of the LoK universe and the modern world. There’s enough context in the story though, I think. You don’t need that much context though, this story is just mostly horny. 

--

“So.” Bolin said, half chuckling. 

“So.” Korra responded in a small voice.

They stayed that way for a little while longer, under the cover together but never touching. 

And to think everything seemed to start off relatively easy. 

— 

The agreement was simple and straightforward, a pact made when Korra was thirteen and Bolin was fourteen: if neither of them gets laid by the time they are eighteen, then they would rather lose their virginities to each other. At the time Bolin admitted it was not his brightest moment. After all, it was at age ten that Bolin first discovered Korra was not only the girl he wanted to hang out with all day during the weekends, but that he wanted to be beside her all the time. He realized he wanted to be with her long before the pact was made. 

If he remembered correctly, the pact was made clumsily and in response to an encounter they should have probably not experienced. 

It was a fateful winter night when the pact was formed. Bolin’s large extended family was home for the holidays, and being that their family was large, every holiday saw their house filled to the brim with people. Bolin beamed with joy, completely in his element interacting with each and every member of his family. Unlike Mako, Bolin was less sullen and enjoyed the company of many as much as he enjoyed the company of his own brother. 

Or Korra, it seemed, who he finally spotted standing with her back flush against the wall closest to the basement door, holding a cup of water in her hand that she was so intently watching. Bolin excused himself to stroll closer to her, ignoring the way his heart pounded so much louder whenever he was around her. 

There was no reason she had to know. 

Holding his cup in his own hand, he waited for her to look up at him and the way she instantly smiled just made him feel all sorts of warm and… funny inside. Only when he got older would he realize what that was, but at the time, he labelled that feeling ‘funny,’ an emotion that made him grin at her. 

She grinned back. “Hi.” 

“Hi,” he responded, clinking his cup against hers, to which she obliged happily. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah. It’s just a lot of people. And I only really know you. And Mako. And your grandmother.” 

That she did, and no matter how many times Bolin introduced her, she seemed to forget them. Bolin supposed that was just the thing about big families. Now, enough movies told him that whisking a girl away to somewhere nice in the middle of a party was the way to go. Only there were no ‘nice’ places in their household, and the cold winter night outside limited their options severely. So Bolin turned to the next best thing: the basement. 

It made sense that Korra would stand in the proximity of the room they hung out in the most. Every Friday like clockwork since they were old enough to understand how to operate the DVD player, Bolin and Korra would sit on the couch in the basement and watch a movie together. Sometimes Mako would join them, but as he grew older, he remained in his room for longer periods and joined Friday basement movie nights only sparingly. 

This time, Mako was bustling about helping their grandmother tend to the guests. Bolin and Korra snuck away to the basement with ease, and when Korra flopped down onto the sofa, she seemed to sigh in relief for the first time all night. Bolin hid a careful smile as he turned to the DVD player. A disk case of their favourite movie sat on top of the DVD player. Bolin figured if there was something that could help Korra’s nervous energy abate, it would be watching something familiar. 

Only, when he sat down and pressed the remote so the disk would be fed into the slot, something completely different materialized on the screen. It was… not their favourite movie, that was for sure. In fact, it didn’t even seem very appropriate at all. Bolin and Korra looked at each other but neither made a move to pop open the DVD player, go back upstairs, and forget this ever happened. Perhaps it was pubescent curiosity that made them stay seated where they were, staring intently at the unfolding events on screen until it finished. Both of them had questions in mind that they did not have the courage to ask each other just yet. Not now that Bolin’s shirt felt too tight and his skin too hot, not now that Korra’s hair seemed to lay much too flat on her forehead, sticking down due to the light sheen of sweat.

“Uhm,” Bolin awkwardly broke the heavy silence first. “So, that was a different, uhm, movie.” 

“That was… Bo, I don’t think that was a movie.” 

“Y-yes it is,” Bolin responded with nervous laughter, tugging at his collar. “Didn’t you see the actors?” 

Korra’s look was puzzled, but she didn’t say anything for a long time after that, and neither did Bolin. The party upstairs continued merrily, and soon, thankfully, Bolin’s body temperature dropped and his shirt no longer felt three sizes too small. 

Well, until Korra decided to attack the awkwardness by saying: “I’m pretty sure that was sex.” 

Bolin couldn’t help but agree. He knew Korra well enough to sense that this specific tone of her voice brokered no argument. Which meant they were venturing into uncharted territory and he had to be careful not to show any signs that, well, he would rather not have this conversation with her because, well, it was simply too awkward to talk about something so intimate in such a casual manner with the person he liked so much. 

He gulped. “Yes. I think so, yes.”

Korra looked thoughtful, her gaze back in her cup of water again. “What do you think it feels like?” 

“Wh—what?”

“Sex,” she asked, unyielding blue eyes now trained at him. Too tight. Tomorrow, he will burn this shirt. 

“I don’t know.” 

“Should it feel bad?” Korra tilted her head. 

Something told Bolin it shouldn’t, but he had the same question in his head while they were watching the video. “I don’t think so,” he said. Of this, at least, he felt sure. He and Mako may not have any parents anymore but he was vaguely aware two people in love also engaged in… well, sex, and that their love meant sex was supposed to feel good. With a full blown blush, he told Korra as much, and she took his information like it was nothing but plain fact rather than fuel to an increasingly uncomfortable conversation. For Bolin, of course, who had never had this conversation with a girl before. With some of his guy friends at school, sure, but never with a girl, much less Korra. 

He drank from his cup as he watched Korra think from the corner of his eyes. Finally, she blinked up at him. 

“You think that will hurt me?” She asked. Bolin choked on his water. Korra was quick to pat his back, which only made it worse. 

“I— uhm,” he cleared his throat. “I don’t know.” 

“You think it will hurt you?” She followed up, unfazed by his discomfort. Spirits, this is the first time he actually regretted going to the basement. It wasn’t supposed to end up like this. He just wanted Korra to feel a little less overwhelmed so that when she goes back up with him to the party, it’ll be easier for her to interact with everyone else. 

“I— I hope not.” He finally croaked out, thumping his chest lightly with his balled fist, willing the discomfort in his throat to melt away. It didn’t, especially not when Korra’s resolute eyes trained on him. This time, he knew a decision was going to follow it and he didn’t exactly know if it would be a good one. He hoped it would be good because Korra sticks to things she wants to do with a fiery passion. 

Korra crossed her legs on the couch and set her cup down on the floor. 

“You said that sex was something that two people who loved each other did.” She explained, almost to herself. “But in the video, they didn’t seem to be happy doing it.”

“Yeah?” Bolin said, setting his own cup down and rubbing his throat from all the coughing. 

“Does that mean she didn’t love him?” 

This conversation was so weird. Bolin had such a vague idea of sex that every question Korra threw at him felt like a trap. Granted, he was one year older than Korra and thus felt like he knew about this whole thing more than her, but he felt like it was still not his place to talk about these things with her. After all, she had her parents.. But the cat was already out of the bag and there didn’t seem to be a way he was going to get Korra to think about anything else until this was finished. 

“I don’t know many things about that but… I guess maybe, they’re not doing it for love.” 

“Why not?” 

“I think because maybe… maybe it doesn’t matter if they love each other.” This was horrible. If only it weren’t so cold outside then maybe he could bend himself a little rock house and promptly die in it. 

“So they’re just having sex?” 

Bolin shrugged, trying to be dismissive about it. “I think so.” 

“Well,” Korra said after a while. “I thought of something.” 

“Okay?” 

“Obviously, when I grow up, I’ll be doing that.”

Bolin winced, feeling entirely responsible for the blunder. She was only a year younger than him and yet he already felt like he’d violated her, even though they didn’t really expect porn to be tonight’s movie. 

“And,” Korra started again, a small smile gracing her lips for the first time since this whole thing started. “Since I already love you, maybe you can be the first person I do that with!” 

Since I already love you. 

He knew she just meant the friendly type of love, he knew this. He did. But it felt so nice, so warm in his heart when she said that, her sincerity clear in her eyes. It was just the other half of her statement that made him blink in disbelief. 

“You want to… what? With— with me?” He asked while placing a hand on his chest. “M—me?” 

“Yeah.” Her smile was blinding, like she hadn’t just said something that started to fry Bolin’s pubescent brain in a hot oil bath of dangerous teenage boy curiosity. 

“Well,” he grappled for an excuse and found one just as quickly. “We can’t, though, because we’re not old enough.” 

Korra considered this, eventually nodding. “Eighteen, then.” 

Bolin gulped. “Eighteen? What do you mean?” Lie, he berated himself. He knew exactly what that meant. And from the looks of it, so did she. 

“We wait until we’re eighteen and then we do it. If we don’t find anyone else to do it with by then.” 

And this was when his famous mistake began: he’d agreed.

He was so sure she’d forget, so sure she’d eventually turn 19 and only think about the time they popped in a porno into the DVD player by accident as something to laugh about as she went on with her life. Thinking this, Bolin had felt it safe to agree with her request. And so, the pact was made. 

Bolin and Korra would lose their virginities to each other if they don’t find any other partner by the time they reach 18. 

—

And like almost every promise she made, she made good on this one, too, showing up at his dorm room door a week after her birthday, after she’d moved into the same school he did for college. 

Fuck, he thought as he let her enter his dorm room. His roommate was out for the night for his weekly DnD habit.

He sighed. Just his luck, then. 

As he closed the door, Korra bounded up to him in a great hug, and Bolin caught her, encircling his thick arms around her. When she pulled away, she punched his arm. 

“Ow, Korra!” He admonished, rubbing the spot. “When did you get such a mean right hook?” 

“Training to be the Avatar, of course! I also came because I promised I would beat you in an arm-wrestling match one day, didn’t I? Prepare to be defeated!” She exclaimed, before Bolin moved to hush her on account of the other sleeping students on the floor. Korra apologized in an instant, smiling sheepishly at her antics. 

There was that funny feeling in the pit of Bolin’s stomach again. And it just intensified when she settled on his single bed, deftly taking off her boots and kicking it to the side. She spotted a folding table off to the side, leaning beside the window. She pulled it close, placing it in front of Bolin’s bed before pointing to a spare chair near the door that was piled high with laundry. 

“Come on, pull that seat over here and fight me like a man!” She said, sending Bolin laughing. 

“You’re on, lady! I’ll show you what a man looks like!” He retorted, speaking loud enough for effect but quiet enough so as not to disturb everyone else on the floor. 

This was good. Good. She came here for a different promise. He might just be able to get out of this. With a flourish, he sat down on his seat and flexed his arm, placing his elbow on the table in preparation for their battle. Realizing he had been topless all this time, he felt a little subconscious, looking at Korra and then scooching his seat just a little close to his bed so he could reach for his tank. 

Korra waved her hand dismissively. “Hey, Bo, relax, it’s just me.” 

“Oh, okay,” he retreated to his seat, positioning his arm on the table. “Let’s go, little lady,” he said, grinning when she fit her hand easily into his own. Bolin reminded himself that this was an arm-wrestling rematch and willed himself not to dwell on the thought that her hand in his just felt so… perfect. So, so perfect. 

Soon, she was exerting effort into her hand, her teeth gritted as she pushed against Bolin’s grip. 

“Not to brag but I was born to have a tighter grip, Korra. It’s an earthbender thing.” 

Korra scoffed. “No it’s not, and that’s definitely a brag. Don’t forget I’m the Avatar.” 

Bolin laughed, and it felt just like old times. “You still weren’t born an earthbender, unfortunately. But fortunately, our established friendship means you can request for me to go easy on you. See that? I used unfortunately and fortunately together. Neat, huh?”

“Ha! No way, Bo! I didn’t practice all that time for nothing,” she responded, and Bolin was surprised to find his hand was actually giving. 

“Okay, whoa,” he said, unable to help it. “Okay, that’s impressive. But not more than this!” 

With the strength of the right half of his body, he pressed tighter against her hand, determined to give her the fight she deserved. A light sheen of sweat beaded on her brow and it was more alarmingly… attractive than it needed to be. Korra’s hand started to give this time, but with a tight groan, she was able to summon up enough strength to slam Bolin’s hand in defeat. 

“Ah, what! No fair! Did you go into the Avatar State just then? That’s illegal, you know.” Bolin protested, comically crossing his arms. Korra’s eyes flitted to his bunched biceps just then, and unbidden, Bolin arched a curious brow. Interesting.

“No, I didn’t,” Korra coughed into her hand before momentarily turning her head to look around the room. 

He’ll let that slide. For now. “I could have sworn I saw some glowing! Explain yourself!” He protested, proceeding as normal. 

“I have nothing to explain!” She replied, standing up abruptly. They stared at each other, squinting for only a split second and for a split second, Bolin thought she was going to storm out out of embarrassment. Luckily, they’d just ended up laughing together. Korra closed the distance between them to hug him again, and Bolin was all too happy to return her tight embrace. 

“It’s so nice to see you, Bo. I really missed you!” 

“No, I missed you!” Bolin said, pouting at her. She poked at his cheek intending to kiss it when just at that moment, Bolin turned his head. 

The kiss landed on his lip. 

A million thoughts rushed through Bolin’s brain in that moment, the most prominent being ‘put as much distance between you and Korra,’ and ‘never let her go.’ It didn’t help that these two thoughts fought each other in his head, rendering him immobile after the soft smack of her lips. It was a tiny thing, he barely tasted her, but his body singed for more. And it did this so because it also knew what day it was, how old they both were. 

It knew of the pact. 

Bolin swallowed; Korra caught it. Eventually, they broke apart, both feeling flustered. Bolin resolved to find solace away from his room, which now felt entirely stuffy. 

“I— uh, need to get something, uh, outside. You can, uh, stay here!” Bolin swung the door open hastily, but stopped when Korra said, “Wait.” 

Don’t fight it, you’ve always loved her, his heart screamed at him. But his brain told him this wasn’t what he had in mind. Korra deserved to be worshipped in, maybe, silken sheets or something, not in his cramped dorm room. 

“Bolin, please look at me.” She pleaded, and when Bolin turned back to look at her, he wished he wasn’t wearing gray sweats to bed tonight. He could hide nothing in the thing. 

Desperate for a distraction, Bolin thought about many other things. All the things, if it meant he could calm down his wildly beating heart in front of her. He stood stock still, shoulders tensed and hunched inward. 

“You know why I came here, don’t you?” She asked, stepping slowly towards him and just when Bolin thought she was too close, she reached behind him to close the door. The lamp was usually enough light for him, but with her here, it seemed to shrink back at her brilliance. 

Bolin closed his eyes, worried that if he doesn’t, he might just lose himself staring into her eyes. So close. What was only seconds felt like ages before Bolin felt Korra’s careful breath against his cheek. So close. He resisted the urge to bite his lip. 

With a shaky smile, he quipped, “H— hi, Korra. It feels so nice to be close friends with you.” How he could still manage a joke right now is beyond him, especially when earlier they had already accidentally kissed and even that nearly sent him into cardiac arrest. Korra’s hushed laughter at the joke made his shoulders relax just a little, before her next words made him tense up anew. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

Bolin’s been hit by a heavy rock to the chest before, but all his training built up his resistance over time. But this… this was a hit to his heart. His breath hitched, unbidden, and he braved one eye open to look at… exactly how close she was. Much too close. 

“Korra, I—“ 

“Can I at least touch you?” 

“Korra—“

She reached tentative fingers into his jet black hair, and the small shiver that shot down his spine made his mouth run dry. That was just a hair-touch! His body is betraying him! She’ll definitely see the effect she has on him if she just looked down. Please don’t look down. Please don’t look down. 

“Is this okay?” 

“Y-yes,” His mind screamed. But then Korra stopped touching his hair. 

“Yeah?” She asked. 

Bolin brought up a hand tentatively just to facepalm. “I— I said that out loud, didn’t I?” 

“Yes you did.” 

“I’m such an idiot,” he mumbled. 

“You are,” she agreed. 

Bolin raised a brow at her. “Hey!” 

Korra chuckled, which served to take away some more of the tight tension in his body. He was still on guard, though, making small steps backward to put some distance between them. But Korra easily caught on to what he was doing. She inhaled deeply and steeled her face into an unreadable expression. Oh no, no. 

“If you didn’t want me to be here then maybe you should have just told me! God, I feel like an idiot!” She groaned, shoving past him to get to the door. No, no, Bolin thought. He has to fix this. 

“Korra wait—!” He exclaimed, wrapping his fingers around her wrist just before she reached the doorknob. 

“What?” She snapped, and when she whirled her head towards him, he saw her eyes were watering. Oh, Korra. 

“I— can we just talk about it first? Yeah?” 

“What’s there to talk about?! When you obviously don’t want me here!” 

“Korra, listen— just listen to me.” He pleaded, ignoring his brain’s call to be careful when touching her. That was always a slippery slope. Especially now when they’re in a room together, about to discuss a five-year-old pact Korra never forgot about. “Come here.” He said, loosening his grip on her wrist and holding her hand. He tugged her closer to his bed and settled on the floor in front of her when she finally sat down on his covers. 

Bolin took a deep breath. “First of all, I missed you, too, in case that part wasn’t clear. What with all the… you know, this going on. Heh. And second of all, well, I didn’t really…” 

Oh man. This was so hard. Korra stared at him, waiting for his answer.  

Bolin cleared his throat, scratching the back of his head and shifting his gaze away. “I didn’t really want our first time to be just here. In my dorm room. You deserve something special, you know! It’s just all a surprise, is all.” 

A beat. “So you do want to have sex with me?” 

Oh. 

Well. He walked into that one.

Bolin swallowed and his answer came in a squeak. “Y—yes.”

Korra bit her lip and it took everything in Bolin’s body not to physically react to that. He remembered the accidental smack from earlier, how soft her lips were. 

“I don’t really care where we are.” She finally said, settling on the floor, too, in the space between him and the bed. “As long as I’m with you.” 

Fuck. “T—thank you, Korra. I appreciate that.” 

“So… do you want to do it?” She pressed, moving an inch closer on her hands and knees. This time it was his turn to bite his lip. 

He turned the offer around in his head, willing his heart and… nether regions to calm down. If he did this, there was no going back. Something would change and it will never be the same between them. What he couldn’t figure out was whether or not that was a bad thing. 

He finally looked at her, really looked at her. “I’m not going to wiggle out of this one, aren’t I?” 

“Unfortunately, no,” she said with a cheeky grin. 

Sighing, he replied. “Alright, then, oh Miss Avatar, I am your willing participant. But please, do come back to bed. It’s much more comfy there.” 

Korra smiled a bright smile, happily settling on his bed. He followed after her, all too aware of her proximity now. She didn’t seem to be as nervous as he was, which made sense to him because even though he knew she didn’t expect him to, he had already put himself under the pressure of making this feel good for her. 

“Alright so what now?” She enquired, bright blue eyes glinting with mischief and… something else. Bolin tried to think. One of them had to be level-headed around here, which was rapidly becoming hard to do when his body was already heating up at the prospect of the pact. 

He stretched his legs out and patted his lap. “Sit on me.” He said, and the resulting flush on Korra’s face made him swallow. Doing great so far, Bolin, doing great. 

She followed his command, sitting just a hair’s breadth away from where he was already at half-mast. Bolin tentatively put his hands on either side of her thighs, silent watchful stare asking for her permission. She placed two hands on his shoulder before nodding, prompting Bolin to slide her closer and fit her against his chest so she was sitting directly on top of his groin. His next exhales became hotter, as he pressed his forehead against her chin. She too was affected by his closeness, her thighs clenching ever so slightly, almost imperceptible. 

“Korra, if we do this, I want you to tell me exactly when I’m making you feel uncomfortable, okay? If you tell me to stop, I will, immediately.” He assured, absently drawing circles on her thighs. She nodded, adjusting herself on his lap. He hissed when she did and she looked at him in a panic. 

“Oh, no. Are you okay?”

With his voice strained, he replied, “I’m fine, I’m fine. It’s just I’m very hard right now.” 

They both fell silent enough that they could hear each other breathe. Slowly, tentatively, Bolin saw Korra move her hips again, grinding down his erection. His grip on her thigh tightened as he groaned. “Korra.”

“Yes?” But she kept going, slowly and then with more confidence, causing Bolin’s breath to escape him in hot bursts against her neck. 

“Korra— s—slow down,” he pleaded in jagged breaths. He wanted this so bad but it was moving too fast. He placed his hand on her hips so he could manually stop her and Korra gave a whimper when he did. The sound made his cock twitch. He took a deep breath to steady himself before looking up at her face. She was flushed, no doubt the same way he was. He wanted this to last a bit longer, a bit more. If this was going to be just the fulfillment of a pact and nothing else then he was going to draw it out and worship her and then burn this memory in his mind if this was the first and last time he was going to do this.

“Okay, just an update,” he said, breathing labored. “So, I’m hard as a rock under there and you’re… much more, uh, willing than I thought you were going to be. You know, for a virgin.” 

Korra crossed her arms, shooting him a challenging glare. “For a virgin.” 

“For a virg— yes. That’s not a bad thing, though! It’s just— I want to make this feel good for you. You deserve it.” If his voice quieted at that last sentence, he didn’t notice. He smoothed his hands up to the small of her back, pressing a thumb against the part of her waist he knew was ticklish. A bubble of laughter escaped her lips and before he knew it, she was kissing him. 

Korra. 

Korra was kissing him. 

It was messy. She was inexperienced after all. But so was he. So it was a strange mix of wet, slippery, and teethy but neither of them cared. They just kept kissing until it felt right, and after Bolin found tilting his head a little was easier for both of them, he continued to kiss her fervently. Her arms snaked back around his neck as her chest pressed close to his. He groaned at the contact, pushing his tongue past the seam of her lips to taste her. She’d had something to drink before coming here, something fruity. Bolin smiled against her lips, savoring the taste and feel of her. Soon, she was grinding down his cock again, breaking apart for air and throwing her head back when Bolin latched onto her neck to mark her with fiery hot kisses. 

“Bolin,” she sighed to the room and he pulled her closer at the sound. 

Maybe he’d died. That’s right; he’d died and even in heaven was tormented by the delicious feeling of having Korra so close, tasting her, feeling her, loving her. That last part he didn’t think he’d say but it was there. He did love her. Even before all this began. He still loves her. 

She shuddered when he started suckling on the skin of her neck, urged by a need to mark her in some way. To put something on her body that reminded them both what had transpired here. His wandering hands reached underneath her tight blue tank, the one she loved to wear so much ever since she grew those muscles he loved so much. He pressed his mouth on top of her tank where he knew underneath sat her breasts and she trembled some more, moaning in heated pants. Bolin smoothed his hands up her back, making sure to touch her feverish skin as he peeled the tank off of her and let go of her clothed breasts. He chucked it somewhere in the room, forgotten momentarily, to pay attention to her sarashi wraps next, the only barrier between him and his prize. 

Korra was looked almost shy as he drank the sight of her, topless, and he knew this was because she had not been naked with anyone before. Bolin’s heart swelled at the thought of being the first to see her like this, his forever best friend and the now, as ever, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. 

He kissed her cheek when the last of the wraps finally fell to the floor. “Good?” He asked, pressing the word against her chest where he planted a small kiss. 

Korra swallowed and then muttered, “Yeah.” 

“Tell me how you feel.” He asked almost automatically, and he was struck with how smooth and even his voice was. He’d thought he would be too anxious for this but when it came down to it, he was more sure about this than he ever was in any other thing in his life. 

Korra’s fingers found the curls on the back of his head before she pressed her forehead against his for another passionate kiss. Breaking away momentarily, she whispered, “I’m feeling good.” 

“Good,” he replied, grinning and slowly tracing her nipples, budded now and very eager. Her moan was long and drawn out when he finally took one of her nipples in his mouth, languidly caressing the other one with his hand. 

“Oh, Bolin,” she hummed, bucking her hips against his straining cock. He gripped her hips at the contact, grinding her down himself. It was too much, much too much, but his brain still screamed for more. He nipped at her breast and sucked like it was his last meal. And when he licked from one breast to another with his tongue flat against her skin, Korra’s fingers tightened in his hair, hard enough to hurt — he didn’t care. On her chest he left marks, too, and she was only too happy to have them. 

Bleary-eyed, he lifted his head up to meet her eyes again, one hand still showering attention to one of her breasts. “You look so beautiful.” He breathed out, kissing the corner of her lips. “And you feel so good.” 

Korra looked at him in a daze, too, breath hot and fast against his face. “You’re not so bad yourself.” 

And despite their current steamy interaction, they couldn’t help but laugh. There was something so easy about this whole thing, something that went beyond sex and Bolin knew it was their friendship, but he also knew it was about love. His love. He could not say the same for Korra. 

“Feeling good?” He finally said, burying his face in between her breasts and exhaling. If she moved unceremoniously now, he might just paint his sweatpants white on the spot. That small moment of laughter seemed much more effective in tipping him over the edge than the half hour they already spent on kissing and fondling. 

You’ve got it bad, Bolin. So bad. 

Korra nodded, reaching a hand down into her pants before Bolin could think. 

Fuck, this was real. It’s getting very real now.

Wordlessly, he watched intently as she slid a hand into her waistband. He drew circles on her clothed thighs, his chest feeling tight and his cock feeling ready to burst. Fuck, no. No. Not now. 

Before he could do anything about it, he spilled into his sweatpants the exact moment Korra moaned so deliciously as her fingers slipped inside her pussy. No, he’d ruined it. Out of shame, he bit his lip and thrust small upward strokes despite himself. He couldn’t control it. It was too much. Korra stopped when she noticed, slipping her finger out of her entrance and placing her hand back up on his shoulder. 

“I’m so sorry, I— Korra, I ruined this.”

“Shh, it’s okay, Bolin. We have all night.” 

“A—all night?” 

“Well, if—if you want to, of course—“ 

Bolin was sure he’d stopped breathing at some point. And if he thought he’d been dead before, he was sure now that he really had died. There was no way any of this is real, no way Korra wanted to spend all night with him having… 

He gulped. “But I already came.” 

“You will again.” She said with a smile, climbing off of him to position herself on the other side of the bed, her legs falling open before him. 

You will again, a statement hotter than it had any right to be. A statement that seemed to linger far longer even as she started to take off her pants beside him, still frozen in place at what she said. 

Wait. Pants? 

“Korra, are you sure?” His cock twitched again even in its flaccid state, highly interested in the way she was currently wiggling her hips out of her pants. When it was finally off, he just sat there, watching her legs fall open to reveal all of her. The air felt too thick, like the only way to breath was to swallow. Korra watched his Adam's apple bob consistently before taking her fingers slowly down and tracing between her folds. There was gathering wetness there and Bolin could see it, he couldn’t stop seeing it. He thought maybe he never will. The room was quiet enough that he could hear the way the slick coated her folds. After what felt like forever, she finally plunged a finger back inside and released a groan that was identical to his own. His cock was back and ready for more. And yet he sat there, patiently, cock painfully straining, transfixed by the way she was moving her fingers. In, out. In, out. 

But then she stopped. And then she covered her face before releasing a disjointed sigh. 

With furrowed brows, he placed a reassuring hand on the side of her thigh, growing increasingly worried when her disappointed whimpers increased. 

“Hey, hey, Korra, are you okay?” In a flash, he was on the floor, kneeling beside her on the bed and kissing her sweaty forehead just because he could. “Talk to me.” 

“This always happens.” 

“What always happens?” 

“I start off and I think I’m wet enough when I’m actually not.” This time she turned around, pressing her chest against the bed and burying her face into his pillow. It took every ounce of willpower in Bolin not to touch her in that moment. A beautiful, naked woman was in his bed. And not just any beautiful, naked woman, no, Korra. 

“What can I do to help? I’m very helpful, you know. Do you want some tea? Or like, maybe a hug?” 

Frustrated, she groaned some more. 

“Okay, okay. I’m just going to, uh, get in bed with you here but I’m going to give you a little bit of space for now, alright? I’m here for you, Korra, really,” and he meant it with all his heart. More than she will ever know. “And besides,” he began, gently encasing them in his blanket and kissing her hair. “I pretty much finished waaay too early for this whole thing so I don’t want to judge you for your uh, drought.” He grimaced when she groaned at the word choice. “I meant your situation! Your situation! Oh, that’s not any better is it?” 

A pause and Korra was chuckling into his pillow. After what seemed like forever, she turned around, pulling the blanket up to her chest to cover herself. With one hand, she pulled her ponytail out and stared at the ceiling. 

“So.” Bolin said, half chuckling. 

“So.” Korra responded in a small voice.

They stayed that way for a little while longer, under the cover together but never touching. Bolin hummed a tune as the seconds dragged on before Korra spoke again. 

“Do you think I’m naïve, Bo?” She asked. 

“What? No, of course not.” He responded all too quickly, worried as to where this is coming from. “Why would you say that?” 

She turned to him and he propped himself up with his hand against his cheek. If he noticed how Korra eyes shifted to the way his biceps moved, he didn’t mention it. She took a deep breath. “Because I came here thinking I can do this. Only for me to… lose interest just when it was getting good.” 

He’d read about this before somewhere, and he was pretty sure it didn’t expressly mean losing interest. “I don’t think that’s it.” He said, tentatively reaching a hand to stroke her hair. She looked at him, blue eyes meeting green, before shifting just a little bit closer so he could do what he wanted. Even her hair was soft. 

“Then what is it?” She asked. 

“I think you just need more… stimulation.” 

She groaned again. “What more stimulation do I need? I’d already touched myself before coming here and it still wasn’t enough.” 

His hand stilled. “You touched yourself? Before coming here?” 

“Uhm, yeah.” She replied, making herself smaller. 

“What did you think about?” 

“What?”

He propped himself up on both arms now, angling himself just right so she could see both his arms flex. Her curious little eye flutter made him feel… sexy. 

“What did you think about, Korra? Before you came here and decided to rock my world.” 

“Pfft, rock your world. That’s two rock puns now, Bo,” she snickered. Bolin pouted. 

“Hey that was a legitimate thing you did, grinding down on me like that.” 

“Okay,” she conceded. He wanted to kiss her again. So he did. And she kissed him back with ease, like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Well, I thought about this moment, really. I’ve actually been thinking about it since I— what are you doing?” She asked, watching Bolin leave her side to kneel in front of his bed. 

“I have an idea. Just keep talking. You were saying?” 

“Okay, well, so uhm, I’ve just been thinking about this moment since I moved in a week ago.” Just then, Bolin lifted the blanket off her feet and slid her gently sideways so her feet were dangling over the edge. He watched her swallow, watched as she lifted herself up gingerly to look at him. 

“Wh—what are you doing?” 

“Listening to your story.” He simply replied, hiking the blanket up just above her knee before planting a kiss there. “You were saying?” 

“But th—that’s it,” she sighed when he ran his finger slowly on the inside of her thighs. 

“Oh?” He made sure to breathe out the word against her thigh, letting his breath fan out against her skin. He watched as she threw her head back. 

“Bolin, what—“ 

“Do you trust me?” His voice was much lower now and because of his earlier release, this time around he felt more in control. It helped that Korra was so pliant in his hands, so responsive even though he hasn’t even put his lips on her just yet. Good idea, he thought. “Tell me, Korra. Tell me you trust me?” 

Bolin never really thought of himself as particularly… skilled in the art of oozing sex just by his words. But he felt now, maybe he was wrong, as he watched Korra nod eagerly. “I trust you,” she said, voice tight. 

“Good girl,” he replied, almost unaware of it. “I’m going to eat your pussy out, okay? Now, it’s gonna feel weird but I read somewhere this helps with the dryness.” 

Korra blushed again. “Do you have to bring it up again?” She said, irritated. Playfully, he nudged his nose against the downy curls of her sex, blowing air onto her folds. She yelped, clenching the blanket in a white-knuckled grip. 

“I’ll bring it up when I want to.” He pressed, remembering that lesson in female anatomy he taught himself. “Tell me what you like, okay? If you don’t, I will stop.” 

Bolin continued to run his nose in her downy curls but when she remained wordlessly panting, he lifted his head. She blearily stared at his face, a questioning look flashing on her face. “What—“ 

“Tell me what you like,” he insisted, pulling her legs closer and hooking it over his broad shoulders. The smell of her sex this close felt exhilarating, like he wanted to drown in it. “Won’t you, Korra?” He asked, licking a small stripe up against her folds with the tip of his tongue. She arched her back nearly off the bed, mewling and babbling. 

“Korra, answer me.” 

“Yes! Yes, I’ll— I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you, Bo. Please.” 

“Please what?” 

“P-please that, uhm, lick me again.” 

Bolin was more than happy to oblige, settling ever closer, only ever closer, so close that he can press the flat of his tongue against her folds completely, licking very slowly from her entrance up to the little bud of nerves on top. Korra cursed, the first time he’d heard her do so. It was sinful. The way she just said fuck followed by his own name. Motivated, he pressed his face closer, continuing to lick, tasting her at each pass. His cock twitched with renewed interest and he ignored it only until he couldn’t, palming himself. 

When he opened his eyes, he saw her watching, mouth agape and blue eyes glazed. Fuck. He wanted to stay here. In between her legs. Just eating her out. Forever. Eventually, she became antsy, and Bolin saw in her face she wanted to say something. 

“Something on your mind, Korra?” 

“I— p— please do the licking with something e— else…” 

“Like?” He asked, almost innocently, even as his lips and chin glistened with her wetness. As if in suggestion, he probed at her opening with a thick finger. 

“That! That’s—“ 

“Oh, this?” He asked, running his finger down her wet folds and then pushing it inside agonizingly slowly. Korra’s hips bucked into his hand but he steadied his finger, stopping and kissing her inner thigh. “Tell me, Korra. Tell me you want me to fuck you with my fingers.” 

He was gone. Gone. All coherent thought replaced by giving her whatever it was she wanted. 

“I— please f—fuck me with your fingers…” 

With a pleased rumble from within his throat, he gently pulled his fingers in and out and as he sucked his own finger and watched her breathe much more heavily at the sight, they knew that she was finally wet enough. 

Bolin slipped another finger on the next pass, testing how open she already was, and she welcomed him easily, just as he dove back in to flick her clit with his tongue. Korra wailed, hands flying up to his hair and fucking up into his face. Underneath, his cock was straining so hard but he didn’t care, palming mindlessly. Korra was coming or he was going to stay here until she did. Or maybe even after that just to lap her up.

“You like that? On your clit?” He asked, giving a flat lick that covered the entire bundle. 

“Fuck, ah, yes, Bolin. Oh, yes.” He focused his attention on the bundle, following the tantalizing tug of her fingers in his hair. He groaned each time she did, and the vibration of the sound seemed to increase the intensity of her moans. 

“Right there,” she babbled over and over again as he hit a spot inside her with his fingers. “Oh, just stay there, ah.” 

Inspired by another naughty idea, Bolin lifted his head from her opening, breathing harshly against her sex. “Listen to me.” He began, kissing her thighs to get her attention. “I’m going to eat you out until you scream, until you come. And then when I drink you up, I’ll fuck you with my cock. Is that okay?” 

“B—but, I’ve already come by then,” she looked concerned, but he’d read about this before. Multiple orgasms. 

“You will again.” 

She recognized the quip as her own and couldn’t help but crack a smile. But she still looked worried. “A—are you su—sure? What if I don’t c—come?” 

“You will. I’ll make sure of it.” Without another word, he moved his fingers in and out of her at a much faster rate than before, all while swirling his tongue around her clit. Korra panted so harshly at his attentions, as though she was drowning in desire. Bolin already was. He wanted to drown in her cunt forever. It was not long after that that her thighs clamped on either side of his head. He could die here for all he cared. It’ll be a lovely death. Though cramped, he moaned into her pussy, curling his fingers to hit that spot inside her that made her gasp and moan loudly. If he was concerned about his neighbours before, he wasn’t now. Let them hear. 

It didn’t take long for Korra to reach climax, her whole body trembling violently at the force of it. Between her clenched thighs, Bolin caught every last drop on his tongue, giving her folds a final kiss before finally standing back up. 

She was a vision. Not even in his wildest wet dreams did he imagine how beautiful and utterly ruined Korra looked like on his own bed right now. Her hair haloed around her face and her mouth open, her lips swollen from how much she was biting them. The quick rise and fall of her chest made her breasts look all the more lovely, and her lax and shaking legs made his head spin. 

I made Korra come. I, Bolin, made her come. 

“C—come here, p—please, Bolin.” She reached her hand out weakly, and in an instant, Bolin was on her. 

“So,” he kissed her cheek, positioning himself on top of her and pressing his erection between her legs. “How’d that feel?” 

“So good. I thought you were a virgin.” 

“I am. Well, sort of.” 

Korra raised a brow. 

“Well, I am a virgin. I’ve never gone all the way. But I’ve eaten pussy before.” But never like this, never this delicious, never this good, he wanted to say. Never you. “This… this felt different.” He admitted, which was not a lie. He hid in the crook of her neck. “Your pussy? Heaven.” 

Korra chuckled. “Liar.” 

“It’s true!” He chuckled with her, kissing up to her ear. Not knowing she was sensitive there, he felt her hips buck up again. He chuckled darkly. “Excited, aren’t we?” 

She tried to protest but he was already sucking and kissing at her neck. 

“Bolin,” she moaned, long and deep. 

“This is the part,” kiss, “where I fuck you again,” kiss, “with my cock this time,” kiss, “tell me to stop and I will,” kiss, “I’ll do anything for you.”

It hurt his heart how much he meant that last part. He pressed his forehead against hers, his eyes searching. He did nothing else, waiting for her response. He didn’t even move, his arms having no problem holding him up. Korra stared at him for what felt like forever until he felt her wrapping her legs around his lower back. Bolin took a shuddering breath, closing his eyes to quell the irresistible urge to just thrust. 

“Tell me,” he pleaded again. “Tell me you want me to fuck you.” 

Korra looked at him, panting softly against his lips. She kissed him. “Fuck me, Bolin.” 

It was like a switch had been turned on in his brain, like her words wiped away every rational thought in his head so that all he could think about was going back into her wet heat. With hurried hands, he shucked his sweats off and pounced right back on top of her, loving how slick and open she was now to his stiff cock. Still, he pushed slowly, watching her face intently at each delicious inch that sank in. Satisfied, he made the final push to bottom out, the tight, wet heat around him nearly making him lose his mind. How would he ever exist after this? After experiencing Korra like this? 

Bolin planted a wet kiss against her temple. “Is this okay?” He asked, pulling back slightly to slide back in gently. Korra’s legs around his lower back tightened and he grit his teeth so hard at the sensation. 

“Yes. Yes,” she panted, bringing Bolin’s face closer and kissing him greedily. Slowly and then a little faster, Bolin pulled out and slid in until she was open enough to take all of him in each stroke. Each push inside made him see stars and it took everything in him not to blow his load right then and there. It was just too good. 

“Korra,” he moaned against her lips, watching with half-lidded eyes as her breasts bounced with each thrust. “Fuck, Korra. You drive me insane.” 

“Bolin,” she babbled his name over and over again. “Faster.” 

“What was that?” He said through broken gasps. 

“Faster!” 

“What?” 

“Faster! Please Bolin!” She clamped down on her bottom lip, staring intently into his eyes as he neared the delicious edge of his orgasm. He could feel she was close too, but he was determined for this to be about her. Only her. 

“Come for me, Korra, please?” He muttered against her lips, capturing her in a bruising kiss. As the sinful sounds left her lips in staccato, Bolin continued on with his relentless pace, feeling her whole body shake as she neared her own orgasm. 

“Yes, yes, yes, Bolin!” She all but shouted when she came, throwing her head back and arching her whole body underneath him. Shortly after he let go, too, seeing spots and hearing his own ragged rasps echo in his head. He bucked gently as he emptied in her, shivering when he was all spent. He collapsed on top of her, admiring the modest peak of one of her breasts, blissed out and too pleased to think about anything other than Korra. He kissed the side of her breast lazily, running a finger on her raised nipple. Korra flinched, feeling oversensitive. 

When she didn’t say anything for a long time, Bolin grew worried. But when he lifted his head to look at her, her eyes twinkled with mischief. 

“Is there any chance we can do that again?” 

Bolin’s breath caught in his throat again. How could he ever deny her? He couldn’t even wiggle out of this silly pact. Grinning, he kissed her and his heart sang at how eagerly she kissed him back. 

When they broke apart, he said, “Could you at least bring me flowers next time? A man wants romance too, you know.” 

Korra laughed. “Sure thing.” 

--

If you want to read it over on AO3, here’s the link. :D

[obligatorynasty]

ObligatoryNasty’s Starker Prompt Graveyard (pt. 1) ✨~I’m cleaning house ~✨

So I basically fell off the face of the internet for like a year and left a bunch of unfinished prompts in my wake. (I know, I kinda suck for that) But it’s been so long that a lot of them no longer spark joy and I’m so sorry!! 😔😔😔

I decided to just post some of what I had written from before and give some meta of what I would’ve done with each prompt. Apologies for any typos! ❤️

-

The Vibration Situation (Peter x Tony)

Peter’s heart thrummed in his chest as he dashed through the crosswalk. He was running late today; partially due to the delayed bus but mostly due to the instructions Tony unexpectedly texted him this morning. Not that he was complaining but getting a thing like that to fit comfortably takes a little bit of time. Even with his efforts in the shower, it still felt tight, especially as he hurried down the New York sidewalk.

As he finally made it down the two blocks, he approached his destination: Stark Tower. “Hi Tones!” He called out with a wave as he jogged up the steps, catching his breath with a smile as he stopped in front of Tony. “Sorry, we’re you waiting long?”

“Not at all,” Tony smiled, pulling Peter into a hug and locking his fingers at the small of Peter’s back as they talked. “Signed a few autographs, took some pictures with the adoring fans, the usual.”

Peter hummed, shifting his weight to his toes to press to quick kiss against Tony’s cheek. “Everyone’s favorite hero,” He whispered into another kiss.

Tony grinned, “Pretty sure Capsicle has me beat on that front.”

“Well, you’re my favorite hero.” Peter pointedly said, smiling sweetly.

“And you, mine,” Tony reciprocated, returning the smile in earnest before suddenly being interrupted by a paparazzi.

“Mr. Stark, Peter, over here! For the Bugle!” The man with the camera called out, interested in snapping a shot of the media’s favorite new couple. Their names had been in the news for weeks now after that first lucky paparazzi photo of them kissing in their suits. How the paparazzi managed to get that rooftop top photo, they would never know.

Tony smiled, shifting his stance to pose for pictures, arm around Peter’s waist. And as the camera flashed, he leaned over, whispering with a smile, “Did you bring it, sweetheart?”

“Yes, sir,” Peter whispered back, waving with one hand and slipping a small remote into Tony’s jacket pocket with the other.

“Good,” Tony nodded, gripping tighter at Peter’s waist. “Just keep smiling, Pete.” He said as he switched on the remote, a playful test to see just how obedient Peter was.

Peter flinched, catching a breath in his throat, fighting the urge to moan as the vibrations pulsed within him and massaged his prostate. In any other situation, he would have screamed. But not in front of the paparazzi. No, in front of them, he remained poised, gripping at the back of Tony’s jacket like a lifeline and whining low through his teeth. He was grateful that he decided to wear a longer coat today, or else the headlines would have been riddled with pictures of his ever-growing bulge.

“Alright everyone, Mr. Parker and I have reservations. No more pictures please,” Tony waved the paparazzi away, clasping his hand in Peter’s and leading him the car.

As Tony ushered him into the car, Peter focused on walking and how much he didn’t want to anymore. Each step made the toy press harder into his sweet spot, firing pleasure up his spine that made his eyes sting with tears as he choked back moans. Once they were finally in the car, Tony let up, switching off the toy with a grin as he pulled the car away from the curb. “You did well, Peter.”

“That was a lot, Tones,” Peter spoke between exhales as he tried catching his breath that he didn’t realize he was holding.

“When we get to the restaurant, can I take it out?” Peter asked, genuinely convinced they were done.

But Tony just laughed, it was almost sympathetic. Almost. “You won’t be taking that out until the end of the day, my love.”

A/N: That was all I had for this one. But, in a perfect world, I would’ve had them go to a fancy restaurant. And of course, Tony being Tony, he turns the vibrator on again as Peter is ordering. Peter is a stuttering and blushing mess, maybe the waiter starts to catch on, but Tony plays it off and orders for them both. Toss in some “Good boy, Peter”s and some “Thank you, sir”s. 

Then they would’ve gone to a movie premiere. Maybe walked a red carpet. Tony would keep putting his hand in his pocket like he’ll turn it on but he doesn’t. (He’s just playing mind games lol.) Instead, he turns it on once they’ve been seated. The theater is small so they’re relatively far from others. This time, he doesn’t stop it. Just keeps it on low until the louder parts of the movie. The ups and downs start getting to Peter, and when they head to the after party, he really starts to beg to cum whenever they get a second alone. And as they mingle with the others, Tony practically tortures Peter through that as well. Then Peter starts to fall into subspace, which is Tony’s cue to finally leave the party and head back to the Tower. Promising that, “We’re still not done, sweetheart.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Unexpected but Inevitable. (Penny X Tony) TW: character death

“Penny Parker, is it?” Tony hums, claiming the adjacent bar stool as his own, wordlessly gesturing to the bartender for a drink. It is only after glancing up and down the span of her body did he stare into Penny’s dark eyes, relaxing his tie with a short tug and taking the whiskey neat without brandishing thanks. His frame is powerful and expecting; the bustle of the elite after-event unable to cloud the glint of arrogance hiding beyond his playful eyes.

Despite his efforts, Penny doesn’t take the bait. Instead, she smooths her hand against the black satin of her dress, flattening the ripples across her thighs. As she moves, so does the light refracting off the studded clutch hanging from a chain on her shoulder. She sits silently, swirling the last sip of her metropolitan before finishing it and placing the lipstick stained glass against a napkin. As the bartender takes the glass, she smiles and speaks a clear, “Thank you.” The bartender nods and moves to serve other patrons.

The interaction has Tony’s ego bleeding outward. “Ignoring the man that invited your company is in poor taste, Ms. Parker.”

“Don’t speak to me about poor taste with the likes of Hammer on the invite list.” Penny quips, rotating her bar stool and throwing one leg over the other, letting the slit of her dress cascade open at the knee. “It seems to me that you’ve taken a clear stance on the value of my company.”

Tony laughs. It’s earnest and only quelled by the burn of whiskey against his tongue. “A preconceived stance, yes,” He admits, grinning as his gaze strays in favor of Penny’s show of skin. “Your presentation at the conference was actually impressive but don’t let that go to your head. People tend to do that when I say the ‘I’ word.”

This time, Penny just barely leans in, gives a soft smile and slight tilt of her head. She lets her bobbed curls bounce against the corner of her mouth before tucking them behind her ear. Each movement is careful, reciprocal and seductive. “And what exactly did you find so impressive, Mr. Stark?”

Tony moves closer, forearm against the bar, hand cradling his drink. “The strength of the synthesize material, its elasticity, its practical and combative use cases.” His voice dipped, somewhere sultry, “And Ms. Parker, watching you deliver the presentation was – well, I’ll definitely be inviting your company to more suitable events from now on.”

Penny averts her gaze, giving the bustling room a once over as she fights against a grin tugging on the corners of her mouth. “I’m sure my employees will be thrilled.”

“And you?” Tony reaches forward, placing a careful hand atop Penny’s.

Her eyes flicker down at the touch then flash upward to meet Tony’s. “I appreciate the sentiment, Mr. Stark.” She whispers as she stands, heels colliding with tile as she pulls a hundred dollar bill from her clutch. “But don’t let that go to your head.” She adds with a smile, placing the money against the bar. “For mine and his,” She calls to the bartender, who nods with a kind smirk.

Tony scoffs, abandoning his drink as he stood. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“We all do things that we don’t have to do,” Penny insists as she starts towards the crowd. “Kind or otherwise.”

“So you’re the selfless type,” Tony remarks as he quickens his pace to keep up with her strides. “Or is it all for your company? Just how many generous donations has Parker Industries made to rain forests, world hunger, and whales?”

Penny shakes her head as they exit the hotel’s ballroom. “You’re quite the cynic, Mr. Stark.”

“I’m quite the believer in a good PR team,” Tony retorts as they make their way down the hall, through the reception lobby, and stop in front of the elevators.

Penny reaches forward, pressing the up arrow before shifting her weight to one side and standing with her arms crossed. “Your PR team—“ She breaks the silence as the elevator opens and they step inside. “—Have they solved your issues across the pond?”

Tony smirks, tapping his room key against the scanner before pressing the penthouse button. “As far as I, and anyone else, is concerned, those issues are for the greater good.”

“And the bodies?”

“What bodies?”

Penny shakes her head at the casual denial she but manages a smile with her eyes, “Fair enough.”

“Which floor, Ms. Parker?” Tony asks as the doors close and the elevator starts ascending.

“Fifteen.”

Tony presses the button and moves to stand at her side, “I was sure this went without saying but—“

Penny breathes a low laugh, “It went without saying?”

“—You’re invited to continue our chat upstairs.” Tony’s grin is as mischievous as it is suggestive. “I promise it will be very in depth and... pleasurable.”

Penny tucks a curl behind her ear, glancing at Tony before focusing her gaze on the elevator’s doors. She stays quiet, keeping a soft smile as the numbers above the doors increment: twelve… thirteen... fourteen... and finally, fifteen. The elevator slows to a stop and the doors slide open with an audible ding!

But Penny doesn’t move. Instead, she watches as the doors shut and listens as Tony releases a pleased huff of air like his hypothesis had been proven. So arrogant, Penny thinks.

When the doors open again, it’s to a mostly glass penthouse suite, complete with a grand piano, high ceilings, and a balcony pool. The bar’s selves are stocked and the coffee table is covered with an assortment of treats courtesy of the hotel’s staff, who are no doubt thrilled to have the room be booked. As Penny steps inside, she makes a point to move through the space unimpressed. She removes her heels in the entrance way and places her clutch atop the bar.

“What do you think?” Tony asks as he pulls his tie away and tosses it onto the couch. “Too much?”

“To clean, perhaps,” Penny jokes and Tony laughs.

“You’re an interesting one, Penny.”

“One,” Penny repeats as she unclasps her necklace and removes her earrings, placing them inside her clutch and pulling out a small metal bracelet, which she slips on when Tony isn’t looking. “Implying many.”

“I’ve had experiences,” Tony notes as they move into the bedroom.

“All good, I hope.”

“There’s always someone better,” He asserts, his voice just as sultry as before.

Penny almost rolls her eyes – actually, she is so certain she will that she turns around to hide it and plays it off by sweeping her curls to one side, revealing her dress’s zipper. “Would you?” She asks but Tony is already there; one hand smoothing across the curve of her hip, the other pulling the zipper down her spine.

As the dress falls away, all that’s left is simple black lace set and the metal bracelet adorning her supple honey cream skin, speckled lightly with freckles and soft to the touch. Penny spins on her heel, her hands tracing up Tony’s chest and smoothing downward, undoing buttons on her way.

A/N: I literally had a break here that said: “Write sex scene. Tony’s great at sex. Penny is better.” I’m so so sorry 😅😅😅 But just imagine Penny riding the hell out of Tony and then getting close orgasming and then:

And as that stream rushes through that final barrier, Penny’s muscles tense and her voice is caught in her throat and suddenly, she is shaking and the biggest burst of pleasure is quickly followed by waves that have her moaning so loud it echoes in the vast room. She still rocks her hips with the sparks of euphoria, chasing the waning feeling, her hands still braced against Tony’s chest as he grunts and a liquid heat explodes inside her warmth. She smiles, gliding her fingertips across his nipples, along his neck and face, and through his short locks.

“There’s always someone better,” Tony breathes out with a satisfied smile.

Penny’s expression flattens then and, with her hand still threaded in Tony’s hair, she lifts herself up and moves to straddle his chest. He’s still smiling, so lost in his pleasure that the way she shoves his head back and grips at his throat is nothing.

“Feisty,” Tony mutters through a strained breath.

Penny shakes her head, “You’re deplorable.”

“And you’re divine.”

Fitting lasts words, Penny thinks as she sprays webbing across his nose and mouth. She watches as the playfulness drains from his eyes; watches the concern, worry, and fear sink in. He starts struggling for a moment but then stops – smart enough to conserve his breath.

Penny leans down, petting a soothing hand through his hair and whispering sweetly, “I’ve been hired to kill you, Tony.” She presses a kiss against his forehead. “Those issues across the pond – all of the bodies you’ve ignored – they have ghosts and they are angry.”

And Tony lays there – struggling for air and overcome with regret – staring up at a goddess of death as his vision blurs and he is forced into meeting an unexpected yet inevitable demise.

-

I’ll be posting more tomorrow in graveyard pt. 2!

[rpbetter]

Sorry if this isn't the place to ask but I'm in need of advice. I have a canon character I truly adore, but I haven't gotten muse or any opportunity to write them at all. My blog is collecting dust and the fandom is kinda dead at this point. Not to mention, it's hard to find compatible writing partners, especially with how picky I can be. I'm honestly considering deactivating the blog (for the nth time), but I don't want to lose the writing I have. I know I could archive, but I hate having blogs just sitting around.

In short, I really want to write the muse/keep the blog but I'm not getting any incentive to do that.

Hello, Anon, it’s totally the place to ask!

I will say, though, that since finding and keeping muse can be flavored rather personally, I can’t promise that what works for me is going to work for you. I’ll even confess that in over two decades, I’ve never personally lost muse. I don’t know if it is due to underlying, neurodiverse style, fixating, or if it is due to keeping myself continually invested in both my muse and writing regardless of what else is going on. (Probably a combination of both, though, and the things I do to keep myself highly in touch with my muse I’ll be recommending.) I’m definitely happy to try to help, however.

That really is a very frustrating spot to be in, wanting to write the muse and keep your blog active, but logging in every day to be reminded of what little reason you have to do so. Since we’re drawn to the characters we are for reasons of personal appeal and writing in itself is a pretty personal form of art, it can also feel depressing on top of the frustration.

However, that’s also the good news, in my opinion, because your incentive here is, or can be, yourself.

You were drawn to this character because you connected with them. They mean something to you, you can relate to them, maybe they have qualities (good or bad) that you wish you could experience. Whatever it is, there’s a reason why you had this draw. Writing is like that as well, there’s a reason why this is a hobby that drew you, that you get enjoyment out of. Again, though all art (it doesn’t matter if it is a hobby) has personal bits of the artist in it, writing is uniquely personal. When you write, you’re exploring thoughts and feelings, giving them life in a character that matters to you. I know, all of that sounds really convoluted and hokey, but it’s true.

And it’s good! That means you always have a reason to write and that you have the tools necessary to find and keep muse without any outside push necessary.

I’d say, firstly, work on getting muse back.

Get back in touch with your muse the next time you feel a particularly strong urge to write. Instead of spending time trying to find people in a silent fandom or forcing yourself to write something you don’t want to, just do some exercises that will help you get back into your muse.

I don’t know what media type your character comes from, but especially if it is something like movie or show that you can have on in the background of what you’re doing, do that. If it’s a comic or a book, think about your favorite scene and read it over first. If you’ve ever made some playlists for writing/your muse, you can always do that instead or as well. The point is to do something passively inspiring while you actively create. Now, that creating...

You want to do something that requires you to think about your muse so you can get in touch with them, not something that is going to make you feel overwhelmed and shut down. So, maybe don’t pick writing prompts for this - you can work up to that. Try out headcanon and character development memes and other question lists instead for right now. Things you can scroll down a list of, find questions that jump out as interesting (or even simply answerable to you at this point, you’re jump-starting a dead battery, it’s alright) and answer them. You can also do something as simple as write down what you like best about the character or their story, or put down the basics of filling in missing information that has always bugged you.

The beauty of this is that it is all on your own terms, your only objective here is to answer what you want, as much as you want. You can stop any time, but you can also answer a single question for three hours, making it eight pages long if the inspiration strikes you. It’s only about recharging your inspiration and establishing a connection with your character again. (This is also going to help you with getting back into writing, or approaching it for the first time, with a more internalized focus of interest.)

When you feel like you’ve done that, you can branch out on these exercises more. Answer the memes more in-depth, answer more of them/the ones you don’t have immediate answers for. You can also try writing out scenes from the character’s canon from their perspective, if it wasn’t already so, adding in their thoughts and feelings, or changing the scene in some ways that would be interesting to write out. This is the point where it’s a good idea to try a writing prompt or two, as well! Take the prompt as a sort of starter sentence from a mutual, you’ve got the situation, fill in with your muse.

Write when you feel like writing. The RPC is great at saying this when it comes to muns not wanting to write, but kind of ignores the other side of the equation. The side where you want to write, have the inspiration and muse to do so, but it might not be the best time. As in, you’re not home/wherever you usually write, with whatever device you tend to write on accessible. No, you’re not going to be able to get as much done, but you can write without the usual situation and device regardless. You can write a scene or ideas down using your phone or tablet, or go old school and use a notebook. If you’re at work and your job isn’t applicable to being able to get down a single sentence, that still doesn’t mean you have to wait 8+ hours to get home; while you’re taking your break, write a little bit. It is a break, and writing is your hobby, it isn’t work. It’s good to do things you enjoy on breaks, and far more fulfilling to have also accomplished something you happen to enjoy.

Not writing when you have the drive to do, putting it off and holding it in until “the perfect moment,” is a great way to lose your inspiration and never actually have that moment. If you feel like doing it, that means it is the perfect moment. Life is restricting, don’t impose even more restrictions on yourself by having to be at home, in a specific spot, with a specific device, at a specific time, on a specific day. Was that annoying repetition? You’re right, it was. And that’s how your creative mind processes all the crap piled onto it that doesn’t allow for creativity.

Now, the other problem, the fandom situation.

There isn’t anything you can do about that, to be absolutely honest. I’m not going to blow smoke and tell you to be positive, wait it out, maybe the fandom will spring to life again. You know, maybe it will...but you could be waiting literal decades for that to happen. Not cool. Please, take my word for that, it’s personal experience that it blows even more than you imagine it will.

What you can do is take the matter into your own hands in other ways; putting yourself out there with more availability in multiple ways.

Are you a single-fandom blog, or are you crossover friendly? If you’re not crossover friendly, try to think of a single, relatively popular fandom that you enjoy. Don’t look at it like a hassle, but rather, just another creative exercise. A serious pitfall of creating alternate universe versions of muses is to take the simplest route, merely picking something you want from that other universe and applying it to your muse with no relevant changes that would naturally occur from it. It isn’t just reductive as hell, it’s not remotely creative, it’s like sticking a sticker on your muse’s forehead and saying that’s a whole different muse. It’s neither attractive to potential partners nor going to sustain your own interest for long. You want this to be a passionate investment on your own end, for yourself.

What not to do:

Let’s say the fandom you picked to do crossovers with is based around magic, the main characters are witches, and they are divided into factions based on how their magical talents display and develop. Not only do you decide to make your muse a witch, you pick the most badass faction. It’s the one full of assassins and action and (metaphorically or literally) sex appeal. Well, that’s also going to be the most popular faction in the fandom. That means there will not only be plenty of big name canons there but also that there’s going to be a plethora of OCs designed just for this universe...and other crossovers from other currently active fandoms.

While that might sound like it’s great for maximizing interaction chances, it’s really not when you’re just starting somewhere new with a character from another fandom that might not be known or liked. It can also take a minute in another fandom’s RPC to identify where the good partners are. Every now and then, it is the most popular and over-populous era/faction/etc., but most of the time, it isn’t. People who write with considerable dedication and talent fairly rarely are in the popular kids club even in their fandom choices. By inserting yourself into that area, you might be bypassing (and being bypassed) by better partners on the assumption that their characters are simply going to bore you to death since they’re not within the scope of your focal point.

It’s not a situation of not being allowed to be picky, you not only have that right regardless of your situation, you also should be. This is not a “beggars can’t be choosers” situation, you’re not beholden to anyone on the basis of being new and bored. However, some of my best, and longest lasting, writing partners over all 23 years I’ve been RPing didn’t/don’t fit with all the exact surface details that automatically draw my interest. It is as true within my own fandom as it is in dealing with crossovers. Opposites (with enough similarities) really do attract and work out well together!

Don’t judge and write people off for anything that isn’t an issue of compatibility with your muse, your writing, or yourself. Decline someone because they do one line only and you are novella, they write topics that are upsetting to you, you can see no way your muse and theirs can interact without instant murder, or because you cannot stand writing with someone who is pulling 90% aesthetics and purple prose. Not because their muse is a witch who uses life-based magic, loves nature, is a healer, and into their health...while your muse in this AU is all about the death, only appreciates an urban environment and is grossed out by animals, kills as an occupation, lives on cheeseburgers and caffeine. You see what I’m saying? Don’t limit yourself unnecessarily!

What to do:

Did you consider if, in that hypothetical idea of a fandom, your muse based on their purely canon self would even fit into that faction? Or is it just something you wanted to see? If you didn’t consider this, or it was the latter, fix that. That’s bad.

If you’re not absolutely dead set on that and only that, think about what really does fit the muse better. Maybe, they would be better as a healer, someone who messes with the very fabric of reality, or someone who manipulates natural elements at will. Then again, they might not even be a witch. They could be more mundane in terms of power, but more accurate and interesting as a normal, human (or whatever). They could even be greatly opposed to the use of magic and witches. Use your muse’s original canon as a base to decide these things.

If you are absolutely dead set on it, though, you have a lot of work to do making the character into what amounts to a markedly different one while still retaining some recognizable aspects of themselves. Consider what events, in this new universe of fandom, might have happened to alter the character thus. Keep in mind that even small changes can have great consequences in a character’s development, and you might need to think about the myriad ways in which that can display, how it changes still more things for this character.

While that job becomes so much more intense when you haven’t planned out a path that matches your muse’s canon characterization at all, it is still an important part of constructing an AU, of any kind, in general. Ask yourself what experiences led to the character you know as you already know them (including your own headcanons, yes). Then, find similar possible experiences within your new fandom verse that can have the same effect. Again, though, it’s important to understand that you are never going to have an identical set of experiences, so you need to explore relevant changes still.

When you do this, you’re allowing your muse to more seamlessly fit into this other universe in a fleshed out, interesting way. Interesting both new partners and yourself.

Okay, next obnoxious question from me! Do you have multiple verses, or are you single-verse?

Whether you are already exploring new fandoms or not, by creating a variety of verses for others to interact with, you’re increasing your chances for interest and activity. When you have a verse from a different fandom you can then, additionally, advertise your presence in both that fandom’s tags when you do a promo or applicable open starter and on active RPer lists for that fandom.

Every popular fandom has such lists. You can get on them by messaging/sending an ask to the blog or by reblogging their post to be added, following the directions. I haven’t seen one yet that doesn’t allow for crossovers. You simply have to tag it as stated in the post, such as “your canon’s name here - original fandom name - crossover.” By tagging your open starter or promo as “-insert fandom here- rp” and “-fandom here- open starter” you allow people in that fandom to find you to interact. Either way is excellent for getting started in totally new places with a character others might be unfamiliar with.

Please remember that if you tag a promo as “promo,” it’ll not show up in searches off of your blog. You know, where it actually needs to be searched. Thanks, tumblr, for being janky! Being more specific as to the fandom and character will help others actually find you. Don’t shoot yourself in the foot by tagging it as “promo.”

Make your verses accessible on your blog itself, in the nature of those verses, and how you set up your page or post that lists them.

Don’t put any page behind an impossible or complicated aesthetic. You really shouldn’t anyway, but when you’re needing interactions, it’s actively hurting your chances. Many people don’t want to have to play a game with your theme, it’s a turn off. Try a pinned post that lists all of your links to important pages like rules, verses, and bio instead. It means that, even from the dash, that information can quickly be found while other muns are first interested, and also that anyone who might be using the app can access it more expediently. (I’m genuinely not a fan or big supporter of doing google docs for rules, verses, bios, etc., as it forces people off site, so I can’t personally say, in good conscious and honesty, that I’d recommend it, but you do you!) You want to keep things quickly accessible is the idea here; when people are interested, you want to catch them right then and there before they have a chance to forget and lose your blog.

As to the nature of the verses themselves, give people real options. Don’t have 20 verses that all read same way. Same themes, plot possibilities, and backstories, or incredibly similar names. Have a diverse list of verses that can act as foundations for a variety of different muns. As many fandoms as you can reasonably have a good portrayal of, and different types of fandoms; not all the same genre (all fantasy, all horror, all scifi). Verses where your muse has substantially different goals, occupations, and other life situations that will involve another muse; don’t make your muse A Warrior™ in every verse, you can keep plenty of those aspects without being that literal. People love “modern” verses set in our own universe and, usually, in our own era. That doesn’t mean you have to go stereotypical or otherwise bore yourself by doing the standard “high school/college verse,” for instance. You don’t even have to designate that sort of thing, let alone make it the focus; simply create the verse by considering what your character really would be like if they existed within your reality.

As a final note on verses as pertains to this point, when you’re doing crossover verses, it’s alright to do some verses where your muse from their own canon existence somehow ends up teleported or whatever to another fandom’s reality, or even our own. Just don’t make every verse like this, it puts the onus of a great deal of creativity and effort onto the other mun by default; your muse has cluelessly dropped into the universe, and while it is high drama time for you, the other mun has to babysit, educate, deal with fallout, etc.

On making the list of your verses accessible, you want to focus on ease of browsing and not being overwhelming. People tend to look through a verse page and not read every verse listed, rather, they look at the titles and breakdowns to see if it is of interest, then read it. Don’t try to make everyone read them all, it isn’t going to happen, and shouldn’t change your effort any as the right people are going to find the verses that interest them...if you make it clear and easy enough.

Have a basic format you stick to, firstly. I do it this way: small verse banner, title of verse (linked to its overall tag so that muns can look through the tag at headcanons, aesthetics, pictures of the FC, and threads), muse age/age range, small blurb, possible triggers found uniquely or just heavily within this verse. In that order, one following the other in a simple, but pleasing way. Below that, is a more in depth breakdown of the “verse canon.” Sometimes, that is giving a brief rehashing of canon itself and anywhere my muse differs, be it in this verse only or overall, ending with where my muse is in this verse. Not literally where. I mean their present occupation, emotional and general state in life. At the very end, I provide any other relevant links and/or an expansion on the triggers mentioned at the top of the verse description if they’re that serious/recurrent so that muns can decide this isn’t the verse for them. I happen to have a potentially triggering muse, triggering verses, and writing triggering topics, though. That’s not something everyone needs to do.

Secondly, group your verses in a sensible way. I do my short list of default verses first. (And, I do mean short, you don’t want this be any more than four or five, it is overwhelming right out of the gate.) For me, that is two default verses of canon at different points on the timeline, one default AU that is a bit of a reversal of canon, and one default “modern” verse. Then, I list the verses that are in line with the altered canon one, just different possibilities, changes, points in history. After that, the different “modern” verse options. Then, verses for other fandoms, the crossover verses. And so on. This way, a potential partner can find the type of verse that might appeal to them and have an easier time picking from those possibilities and getting ideas.

Lastly, don’t be so succinct that you give too little information and underwhelm, but also don’t be so excessive that it takes all of the mystery of interaction away and overwhelms someone. It can be a difficult balance to strike, and some verses require more information than others, just experiment a bit. Additionally, it’s fine to link to pertinent information for the other mun to view aside from this, but don’t just link people to a fandom wiki as your “description/bio.” That isn’t giving information on how you write this muse, approach this fandom, or what another mun can otherwise expect. Keeping your descriptions interesting is important, you’re not giving a boring lecture, you’re trying to inform someone while making them hyped for their choices. It’s more interesting, and informative, to read if you do them with an ear to the “tone” of your muse in that verse. Is it a sad one? Sound that way. These can, indeed, function as snippets of your writing, so be sure you are writing them with the same care you should be giving your replies; spellcheck, good word flow and use, mind the grammar, and read over what you’ve written for common, easy mistakes.

Again, by giving a genuine variety of verses to choose from, you’re allowing for a greater reach in potential partners. Everyone from those still in your original fandom to those in new ones, all the way to fandomless muses will be able to interact with you this way.

Finally, in regards to what you can change or do when you’re in a dead fandom and seeking interactions; make sure you are increasing your reach by using proper tags, being honest about what and how you write, and don’t wait for others to stumble across you.

When you use tags properly, you’re increasing your chances of being seen at all. Every time you post something at all applicable on your blog, tag it with relevant things. Tag as described above with whatever fandom it is and “RP,” your character’s name, “open RP,” character name and RP, indie RP, open starter, and so on. Be sure you are optimizing your tags by placing the most relevant to finding you in the first four, those are what show up in site-wide searches only. Anything after that isn’t going to appear in a search across all tumblr.

By tagging your character’s name, as a canon, you should know that you are likely to get personal blog interaction. I’m pretty against being nasty to personal blogs for no reason, as I don’t appreciate personal and fandom blogs being shitty to me for the sole reason that I am an RPer. Please, use clear, short, attention getting directions for them. If you want no interactions with them, put right in the description of your blog “RP blog, does not interact with personal blogs.” When you say things like, “personals dni,” or “personals blocked,” you’re not doing anyone any favors. Personal blogs often don’t even know what the hell a personal blog even is! They do not denote themselves this way, to a personal blog, they’re just a blog. By designating first that you are an RP blog, you’re making it clearer that they’re the personal; they’re obviously not an RP blog, so that must make them a personal. Follow this up in a pinned post, right on top. Give a note to personal blogs that describes them as “any blog that isn’t an RP blog” first, then either tell them in brief what they can and can’t do or that you don’t interact and will block.

I don’t recommend taking your blog off of being findable, however. That’s alright once you have the RP activity you are looking for, but until then, it’s working against you. Other RP blogs cannot easily find you either, they will only find you if you’re on a list or appear in their recommended blogs, if you interact with a mutual, or are recommended by a mutual. You’re not just lessening your chances of personal blogs finding you, so if you have that turned off, turn it back on.

Don’t entirely rely on others finding you regardless, though. You can’t be 100% passive when you have no interactions, and by relying solely on serendipity you’re far less likely to get them. I know that everyone here is terminally shy, but seriously, you have to do more than put your silent will into the universe that someone perfect find you. You have to make this happen. Once you get a few people, you can afford to be more passive. Not only do you have some people to write with, you will be more visible to their mutuals, and more established as a presence. I’m not saying this is easy, or that it will become easy, not awkward or stressful, if you have a legitimate issue behind the shyness. Just that it is the only way to really proceed, and I believe you can do it!

So, go looking for interesting blogs. Be crossover and OC friendly (again, this doesn’t mean “accept everyone,” there are valid reasons for not accepting people you won’t work out with that have nothing to do with their fandom or being an OC), and search those fandom’s RPCs, following any blogs you think you might work out with upon reading their rules and other pages. Search for fandomless OCs and do the same thing. Fandomless OCs aren’t just floating around in the ether, they just weren’t created expressly for a particular fandom and within its confines. What is excellent about that is their ability to have a wide variety of verses and many possibilities to fit into any fandom or verse. So, don’t count them out solely on the basis of being an OC and fandomless. It doesn’t mean what people seem to think it does!

Do not stop at having followed 50 blogs. I mean, other than that you probably should stop following people for a bit. That you should do, as you need to be building writing relationships here, not following so many people that you cannot get to them. Don’t just stop at the follow, though. Since you’ve read their rules and information like a good RP partner, you should have some idea of what their interests are and where they align with yours, as well as how they prefer to be approached, if they accept memes right away to start, need plotting, have a rules password. When they’ve followed you back, proceed with interaction!

Ask if they’d like to plot when they have time, you’re really looking forward to writing with them. But...have some idea of a plot, please. It is a serious turn off to have someone message you wanting to plot, only to reply and get “lol I don’t have any ideas, anything works for me/whatever you want to do.” That isn’t plotting, it’s one party coming up with ideas and constructing a plot while they’re being told “I’m fine with anything.” That may be true, but it’s disheartening and a red flag for many people. If you genuinely can’t come up with anything, pick verses that match up well and suggest doing something within them.

“When you have the time, would you be interested in discussing writing? I was looking at your verses, and I think your verse -name- and mine, -verse name-, would mesh well.” Is a good way to start. Once you have a discussion flowing about the verses meshing and the muses, it’s typically easy to organically develop some plot ideas to go off of.

If both you and the other mun are alright with plot-free interaction and memes, you can send a meme any time. If you can’t find any memes on their blog, look for a wishlist or navigation page that shows you the tags for memes/wishlist. Still can’t find it? Ask them if they’ve got a wishlist or meme tag you can look through.

Additionally, if open starters are a thing you both do and are alright with, find some of theirs and respond. Post your own, tag it appropriately to be found in general and on your blog, and reblog it once or twice. Don’t excessively reblog it, and don’t get upset on the dash if no one interacts with it or any memes you reblog. Both are demanding to outright guilting, and not a good way to get partners. Just provide them with the ability to easily interact by making the posts available in the first place and by making them findable on your blog search and navigation.

Provide something for potential partners to see. Since you said you already do have writing, that’s great! That’s content on your blog that your partners can view. However, since you’re also having the issues you’ve stated, it’s likely that you haven’t many new posts. Show that you are active, interested in being here, and how you write your muse (and in general) by posting some newer content. For original content, do a headcanon or some meta, or post about new verses you are adding, the changes on your blog, a promo. For reblogs, things pertaining to your muse like canon imagery, fanart, quotes from canon or that generally express your muse, and aesthetics relevant to your muse are all excellent things to queue.

Use that queue. Not only do very few people appreciate having dash spam of similar content for the comparatively short time you might be around, but also, running these things on a queue means you spread that out for maximum view. While there are hours of heavier activity, you’ll have mutuals who are on at unusual hours due to their life and preferences or their timezone. This way, you’re not appearing inactive, if not outright invisible, to those mutuals. It’s not a bad idea to use a queue tag so that people know if they interact with a post that’s been queued, you might be here to quickly respond.

Ultimately, to fix your fandom and lacking partners problem, you just need to up your availability and reach beyond that fandom alone. Be proactive in following and approaching, decline blogs based on not working out only, utilize tags and fandom RPer lists, have everything on your blog easy to follow and not overwhelming, and have your verses meet as wide of a range of people as possible while also not being overwhelming.

Try updating your promo, as well, by the way. They’re not dead, they just really tanked when people kept making them based solely on aesthetic principle instead of being at all informative about the muse. They do seem to be coming back, so it’s a thing to consider.

Yes, make it visually appealing, it will draw people to reading it. No, do not just use a song lyric or quote with words highlighted linking your rules, verses, bio. Tell people basic info like the age of your muse and yourself, if you are multiverse and multiship, your muse’s canon verse and a couple of big interest verses of other major fandoms or themes that tend to be of interest to people, and what kind of RP you write - one line/para/multipara/novella. Absolutely give links to rules, verses, bio, and either memes, wishlist, or open starters, but give them just like that; make it very clear what this link is to. Put a very short statement of interest on there denoting that you’re expanding to new fandoms and looking for writing partners.

Do not sound desperate, demanding, or devaluing of yourself. Don’t say shit like “because my fandom is dead,” “trying this before I give up and delete my blog,” or “I suck at interaction/writing/ooc interaction/being a person but welp giving it a try, so follow and hit that heart.” (Conversely, calling yourself derogatory things and implying that your partners are too, such as the “we’re all just losers here” shit.) All of the above are not attractive, and they’re not even surprising enough to stand out anymore. It’s another reason to scroll right by that promo because nothing at all was different or of interest.

And as a wrap-up/rehash of the first topic, getting muse back: try starting over at the beginning by approaching the media involving your muse that has really stuck with you emotionally over the years, and exploring and developing your muse again.

Don’t tell yourself you can only write, for example, at home, on the laptop, after 7pm, and with a pop toy staring at you. The best thing about writing, as opposed to so many other hobbies, is that you can do it anywhere! So, do that. Do it any time you both feel the inspiration to do so and aren’t going to get fired or expelled for it. This isn’t work, it’s something enjoyable that does take effort (like literally all creative activities and skills do), but approaching it as though you need to follow novel writing advice from someone who has never published anything of note and isn’t you on the internet, with strict rules for success makes it feel that way. So does being frustrated with a dead fandom, no interaction. It’s disheartening, feels as annoying and fruitless as work often does. You probably need to break out of that mindset, and you can only do it by beginning to allow yourself to be creative on your own terms, entirely for yourself.

Do write simple things at first that you are inspired to do (you can’t get a scene out of your head, or a bit of dialogue), and/or headcanon/character development memes and question lists. Build from there as you get back in touch with your muse, writing things primarily or entirely for yourself still. Expanding on headcanons, doing some meta, or maybe writing out a missing piece of canon or what you’d be interested in seeing happen in canon if some event was altered.

Doing this sort of thing, you are getting in touch with your muse again and back into the real spirit of writing creatively, simultaneously.

Whatever you find most inspiring, do it. If it’s watching the movie or show again, do that, have it on while you write or simply think on the character’s actions, thoughts, and emotions during those scenes. If it’s reading the material again, do that, and read snippets of personal importance before you write. Maybe it’s some past playlists you can have on while writing, or even while you’re cleaning, walking the dog, driving or riding somewhere. It could even be your own previous writing! Go ahead and re-read that, it sounds like you still appreciate it, and that’s truly promising. If you find that you’re horrified by some of the things you’ve written in the more distant past, hey...that’s not just valid as hell, it’s natural. You know what else it is? An inspiration. You can clearly see that you could do better, that means you now know how to do better and are ready to do so. Validate yourself, prove it to yourself by rewriting or fixing something.

Don’t delete the blog or archive it. It is unpleasant to have a dead blog around, but don’t keep it dead. Use the same blog and simply transition it into wider things that will net you more partners and the interactions you deserve.

Look, even if you weren’t the most popular blog in your fandom before it went quiet, you really appreciated the blog, muse, and writing you were doing. You’ve defined that it wasn’t something you did to cause this situation, you just had the shit luck we all run into eventually of being in a fandom that ran out of material or interest. People are really fickle, so by taking a wider approach and fixing on the writing and muse instead of fandom now, you’re stopping this from repeating. Seriously, on a long enough timeline, every fandom dies or goes into hibernation. If you make a whole new blog with a different muse, it is going to happen again eventually.

So, don’t feel like you’re ridiculously clinging to the past and need to move on, you’re just sticking to something and can continue to stick to it through the next five fandom deaths. Just because it is the most popular thing to do to drop muses, constantly add new ones, and have this attitude that you can “blog refresh” your way out of recurrent, and inherent, problem doesn’t mean it is actually the right thing to do. It’s not even the most sensible, and certainly not the best thing to do with anything you’ve spent time and effort on.

That’s your incentive; yourself, the time and care you’ve put in, and your continued interest in writing and the muse. You’ll find good people, and bluntly, everyone else can fuck right off when you’re incentivized by yourself. It becomes a self-fulfilling activity at that point, I swear, and it feels really nice.

Just get back in touch with your muse and writing itself so that you can begin to expand and start interacting again!

[littlemousejelly]

hi! forewarning that this is probably a weird ask to receive.

i am autistic and i saw your tags on this anon you answered about how you recognize that you display some autistic traits.

today i was re-reading pt2 of the sleepover au, and i noticed that you wrote kara engaging in echolalia! (lena says “language darling,” and while kara is thinking up a response, she repeats “language darling.”)

i know that we as authors tend to write a lot of ourselves into our characters; and considering your tags on that post, how you’ve reblogged some stuff about auditory processing difficulties, how you reblogged that post about just liking to be quiet sometimes, and the adhd vibes i get from you (which is a common comorbidity), i think that you might be somewhere on the spectrum. of course, this is just me being nosy and observant haha - i don’t know you personally and i am not a doctor - so take everything i say with a grain of salt :)

i’m letting you know because it might be food for thought for you :) i know that learning that i’m autistic was a shock that really helped me learn about myself and accept parts of myself, so in the remote chance that the same could be true for you, i thought it might be helpful if i shared my thoughts :)

i’m genuinely sorry if this was inappropriate to send; it is not my intention to make you uncomfortable.

i hope you have a good day :)

omg no worries! i do actually consider it relatively often and i'm not uncomfortable with the idea, as you were able to tell from my tags 😊! thank you for taking the time to write to me and i hope you have a good day too!

[samwrights]

I’m sorry but ukai with a breeding kink😳yes PLEASE

I swear I saw another ask that asked for Ukai with an impreg kink

*ahem* anyways—WOW this one was a doozy but holy shit did I have fun writing it. 11k words you guys. 11. K. It is a lot so grab some cocoa or coffee and a blanket because this is a read. It even has to be split into two parts because I hit the fucking text limit, BUT this also means there is no actual smut in this portion. You can find that here.

If you guys need some ear candy, I recommend the following:

Day N Nite (Crooker’s Remix) by Kid Cudi

Pursuit of Happiness (Extended version with Steve Aoki) by Kid Cudi

Breaking Me by Topic

C’Mon by Ke$ha

Flannel by The Cardboard Swords (it has to be sad somewhere)

Magic in the Hamptons by Social House

Fun fact: Ke$ha was actually the primary inspiration for this fic and for DJ!Ukai. God bless her.

Warnings: language, nicotine and alcohol consumption, implied drug use, implied emotionally abusive relationship, breeding/impreg kink, dirty talk, rough sex, risky sex, road head, slight dub-con, praise, multiple smut scenes, 3rd person POV reader-insert—because the word ‘you’ just didn’t seem to fit.

Without further ado, please enjoy the filthy depths of my brain followed by a relatively happy ending that I’ve titled, “Between the Lines’” :-)

“You’ve been more tired lately, and you’re showing up right when practice starts. Is everything okay?” Was the question that Takeda had asked Ukai Keishin that haunted him for years to come. Sure, he had wanted to gain more independence from his parents, wanted to start being more adult-like and take over the mortgage and the bills so his parents could finally rest. At the age of twenty-six, it seemed like a good idea at the time. With four years passing, however, Keishin was so damn tired, but it wasn’t like he could just stop working.

He was still tending to crops every morning, tending to the shop, coaching for Karasuno, but in the four years time, he had adopted one more job on the weekends—Ukai Keishin was a local nightclub DJ. He’d discovered the job opportunity one fateful night that he was out with his friends from the neighborhood association. To this day, he was still unsure of why he was approached with the job, especially considering he didn’t know the first thing about being a DJ, but the woman who had offered him the position had taught him everything he needed to know.

It turned out that he had a natural affinity for the position, seeing as he was still at it years later under the alias Spira. Ukai kept telling himself that he would quit the gig eventually because there was no way he could continue working four jobs—it was inhuman and the money didn’t even really matter to him. Okay, that last one is a lie; his DJ gig has been a substantial contributor to his savings funds to the point where he was even able to afford a newer, larger, (and slightly) used SUV in full compared to his tiny, old yellow beater. Even his mortgage bills were starting to look less daunting with the current cash flow.

Who needs sleep anyway? Ukai survived and thrived off of nicotine and caffeine anyway. Besides, sleep was the last thing on his mind whenever he set foot into the club. It was impossible to think of anything other than the writhing bodies of sweaty, young adults that were already drunk or high or were practically fucking each other with their clothes on. Perhaps that was part of the reason Keishin felt the need to quit this job—he was envious. Envious of the fact that he never got to indulge in his youth like these kids did; he started working and helping his family out right away after college. Sure, he went out here and there, but these twenty-something-year-olds were living their best life, while he was thirty and catering to their whims.

To say he was a bit bitter would be an understatement.

Bitterness aside, however, it did him good to see the youth enjoying exactly that—their youth. They got to do as they pleased between exams and becoming functioning members of society and, while he was jealous, Ukai was proud to be able to contribute to their pleasure.

He’d arrived to the club early, as he often did, to try to grab a drink before he was due for stage time. Ukai was thankful the bartenders knew him enough that he didn’t have to verbally order considering the music was too loud to hear him in the first place. A rum and coke manifests itself in a small, plastic cup that the blonde raises in thanks before weaving and bobbing around the various partygoers. For the most part, he’s successful in dodging the flailing bodies as he mutely notes the very upbeat remix of some female pop artist playing.

But only remotely successful as Keishin attempts to salvage his drink from spilling as he raises it over his head as one of the partygoers is pushed into him. “Hey, careful!” He snaps toward the younger, [hair color]ed woman. She only looks half-offended by the scolding, but otherwise unperturbed. If anything, the dominating expression on her face was confusion.

“Coach Ukai?” He’s surprised to hear both his given name and his title, let alone coming from a club patron, as they all knew him as Spira. Recognition slips his mind entirely—he’s never met this girl in any way that he can remember. Certainly, he would never forget crossing paths with this beauty, even if she was dressed in a similarly juvenile fashion to the other ravers. Tight crop top tee cinched together by a knot at the midriff, with army green high-waisted shorts attempting to cover the bare skin, face painted with makeup, glitter, and sweat; even underneath the garb, she brought forth no recollection. “Uh, d-do you remember me?” It’s a challenge to hear over the music, but she presses forward close enough that her lips are right in Keishin’s ear.

“Can’t say that I do,” he yells right back into hers.

“Karasuno class of twenty-twelve, I was Sugawara’s girlfriend.” Oh.

Oh.

Now he remembered, vaguely, but he doesn’t ever remember her looking like this. The last four years had been incredibly kind to her, in more ways than one. Back in her Karasuno days, [name] had always looked pleasant, for lack of better term. But there was always a lifeless, matted, dull glaze to her eyes that screamed she was searching for something more. While it was still somewhat present, there was a substantial joyous air around her. It looked good on her. However, as much as Ukai wanted to stay and admire, he had to go get set up for the evening. Or rather, that was the excuse he used when he said he would catch her after the show. “[name], did you know who that was?” The woman in question gives a nod, confused at the sudden star struck gawks that her friends held.

“Uh, yeah? My ex-boyfriend’s volleyball coach?”

“No dude, that was the DJ, Spira.”

“What?”

Being the closing act meant a lot of different things to Ukai Keishin. On the negative spectrum, it meant he was going to have to tend to crops as soon as he finished cleaning up his set. That also meant he wasn’t going to get to go to bed until nearly eight in the morning after his shift at the farm. Yet, for him, the positives greatly outweighed the negatives. For Keishin, watching the audience lose themselves in euphoria, albeit probably a drug-induced one, just hit different for him. It was a sense of satisfaction that only came from a select few activities, with coaching volleyball being the other major contributor. There was just something about the way the crowd was overwhelmed and screaming the second underground remixes of old Kid Cudi tracks with his own twists overtook the speakers that granted Keishin a sense of enlightenment.

For him, being a DJ allowed an audience to flow and vibe with the journey of his life and all its constant up and down motions while under the guise of anonymity. As Spira, Ukai opened up the complexity and conflicting feelings of his inner mind and brought it to fruition through his mixes. He felt that in his soul, he’d done his art of storytelling justice. The audience felt it. Hell, his mom at home probably felt it. Perhaps it was one of the main reasons this dingy, hole-in-the-wall club kept asking him to come back every weekend.

His mind wanders further as he clutches an electronic cigarette in his hand, mixing beats on the turntable while taking hits of nicotine in between. He wonders if the girl he had ran into just a few minutes prior had been frequenting here as often as he had. Then, thinking back to what little information she supplied earlier, Ukai’s mind drifts off to the former third-year setter from when he first started coaching. Sugawara was a nice boy with a firm, almost parental, hand that walked dangerously along the lines of being a partner and being a control freak. When it came to his relationship, things had to go his way. And while his girlfriend that came to every tournament was much more outspoken yet easy going, she was opinionated and didn’t shy from confrontation.

Now that the coach had given it more thought, it was a wonder that one tolerated the other at any point in time. If anything, Ukai imagines the two of them would typically be at each other’s throats. From the few times he had interacted with her, she was always more free spirited and couldn’t be weighed down by any one else’s opinion, but seeing her now was different—she was in her element in the dingy, dark club with the glitter on her cheekbones refracting light off of her face. There was laughter and true, unabashed joy on her face. She had a light of her own—like she was ray of sunshine in the center of a storm.

Three hours past midnight when the club closed was always Keishin’s sign to leave, regardless of the countless attempts to attend the after party he’d been invited to. He had to go to work, after all. Sure, a part of him had always been a little green with envy at all the DJs that got to hook up with club patrons after, but after being at this gig for a few years, he figured that the right girl for him would eventually come to him if he continued working on himself. After all, he didn’t want to just have a string of one night stands with a bunch of fresh adults that could barely function after the small drop of Malibu rum—he was too old for that.

“Uh, coach?” [name] felt strange calling him that, but she didn’t feel familiar enough with him to address him otherwise. He was halfway in his car, the blonde ready to leave for the weekend to go back to his regular day-to-day work. “You coming to the after party?” [name] asks when Keishin only looks at her in question, cigarette hanging betwixt his dry lips.

“No, I actually have to go to work right now.”

“Oh,” she doesn’t mean to express her disappointment, but it slips anyway, “guess I’ll catch you later then?”

“Uh, yeah.” A tight lipped hybrid of a pained grin and grimace crosses her wet, gloss covered lips. Without another word, Ukai closes his car door, a little more brusquely than he intended to, before backing out and leaving the young woman to her own devices. His mind wanders once again with him humming absentmindedly to the soft acoustic punk playing over the car radio. His eyes are focused on the passing greenery, the cars that are weaving and bobbing off the freeway—hell he even noticed the way the tendrils of the sun are just barely starting to peak over the horizon because it reminded him of her. A thought he banishes immediately because he feels creepy for even thinking that.

Yet no matter how much scenery flitted through his honey eyes, his mind keeps traveling back to one thing, or rather one person, only.

Goddammit.

On Monday’s practice, Ukai Keishin’s mind is flooding and drowning in memories of his first year as the volleyball club’s coach. It was as if his mind was coercing him to attempt to reach out to the girl that plagued his mind for the last forty-eight hours or so. Though, he had no way of contacting her. Instead, with every step along the wooden floors, he can remember the way she would walk Suga to practice, almost physically seeing her standing in the doorway to kiss the third-year setter goodbye. As if he could see her sitting underneath the third window from the left, quietly doing homework and exchanging small talk and airy laughter with Kiyoko and Daichi. As if he could see the same sunny smile she gave in the audience from Saturday night at the club between the lines of the woodwork in the floorboards.

It was a repeating pattern day in and day out that was beginning to make Ukai question his sanity.

“Hey, man,” his assistant coach and fellow Karasuno alumni, Tsukishima Akiteru, places a hand on his shoulder and looks at him in worry. “Are you okay? You’ve been out of it all week.” In what world did a week translate into three days, the older blonde coach didn’t know.

“I’m fine, just tired,” Keishin all but bites back. He didn’t want to admit his conscious had been running rampant with thoughts of a girl he’d briefly met at a club. It felt almost as disturbing and perverted as it sounded in his mind.

“The team’s worried about you. Why don’t you take an early weekend and get some rest? We’ll see you back on Monday, yeah?” Normally, Ukai would have vehemently refused. However, his circumstances were far from normal and he was gracious for an assistant coach he trusted wholeheartedly to do the work that needed to be done. And so, Ukai heeded Akiteru’s advice and went home before practice even began on Thursday afternoon.

It was slightly disorienting for him to go home and nap, but he was incredibly thankful for the gift. Waking up just before he was technically supposed to start his shift at the shop, Keishin jumps into a cold shower to bring him to life before heading downstairs. A bellowing yawn passes his lips through his teeth as he starts his evening. Maybe his team was right—he really did need a break. Thankfully, he knew that the second the doors to the Sakanoshita were locked, he was done for the evening and wouldn’t need to reawaken until three the following morning. Just a few more hours until then, he thought.

With it being a slower evening as well, Ukai was able to kick his feet up on the counter as he always did, pull open the newspaper from earlier in the morning and casually flip through. Briefly, he considers giving up one of his four jobs because this was something he missed doing. But consideration aside, he was far too in love with the cash flow and the thought of paying off his mortgage to entertain the thought for long. Maybe one day, he would finally sell the Sakanoshita store or quit helping on the farm—

“You still work here?” Huh. Her voice sounds different when it isn’t drowning under the speakers of a nightclub.

“I do own this place, you know.” Ukai snarks at the woman who’d been consuming his brain for the last week. She looks different without glitter reflecting off of her unreal cheekbones or the heavy layers of foundation and eyeshadow. Even more than before, Keishin definitely recognized [name] now. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“Shopping,” she snorts as if it were the most obvious thing, “why else would I be at a store?”

“Dunno, maybe you’re just here to see me.” Ukai responds without skipping a beat, turning the page of the paper to play into his guise that he wasn’t the slightest bit surprised at [name]’s presence.

“Uh...actually...” her voice is quiet, prompting the coach to quirk a brow and fold up the paper he was now pretending to read. It wasn’t like he could focus on anything right now outside of the woman standing before him, spearated only by a thin counter. Without talking again, his brown eyes lock with hers, silently goading for her to continue speaking. “I-I just...I don’t know. It was just really weird to see you at the club and then to find out that you’re Spira on top of that. I haven’t seen anyone from Karasuno since I graduated and—“

“Woah, kid, breathe.” Ukai interrupts her before she can continue spewing word vomit at a hundred miles an hour. “So what if I’m Spira? Though, you better not tell anyone that. My stage name is a secret between us, alright?” For a moment she’s quiet, gears turning in her head. The secrecy didn’t make sense to her because, if anything, he should be proud of the fact that he’s rather well known in the underground electronica scene. Or at least, she was in his stead, because [name] would have been proud of Ukai regardless of whatever occupation he held.

She supposed it came with the territory of having an unrequited crush on the coach years ago, that continued well beyond high school and even university, back when she was still dating Sugawara Koushi. It was the reason she had even bothered to come sit in on his practices and partially the reason she would come to his tournaments and matches. Not that she didn’t want to be supportive of her then-boyfriend—it would have been a fight had she not—but seeing the hot older coach was definitely a bonus in her book. “But why?” She offers, not wanting conversation to end despite her not having actually bought anything.

“If the school ever caught wind of me doing that, I could lose my position as the coach. Some shit about Karasuno’s image or whatever.” [name] gives a small nod, fidgeting subconsciously, as an attempt to shake her nerves and anxiety, by sifting through various candy bars that were in front of her before grabbing her favorite. Without a second thought, she peels the wrapper before placing the candy between her lips, the puffy pink skin greatly contrasting the chocolate coating. “Ya gonna pay for that, kid?” Ukai irks, his honey brown eyes steeling over in irritation. The nickname she’s given hits the final nail on the coffin and seals away [name]’s trepidation. Instead, her own sass comes out to join the fun.

“Nah,” she hums playfully, the chocolate-covered wafer cookie crunching between her teeth. “Quit calling me kid, coach. I’m a lady,” the irony isn’t lost on either of them as she speaks with her mouth full.

“Still a kid, kid. And quit calling me coach, I’m not your damn coach.” The familiar, grumpy attitude of his brings [name] back to the Ukai she knew back in high school. In a mix of nostalgia, warmth washes over her as the haughty tone in his voice sent shivers down her spine like it did a few years back.

“Sure thing, coach,” she teases again before tossing the wrapper of the stolen candy bar into the nearest bin. “You’re at the club tomorrow, right?” The question adds a bit of context and confirmation to Ukai—it seems she knew when Spira was performing, meaning she must have been a patron for a decent amount of time. Part of him wonders how she never realized who he was before, another part wonders how he’s never noticed her considering she could make all traffic stop if she stood in the middle of a freeway. At least, that’s what looking at her did to his heart.

“Yeah?”

“Maybe this time, you’ll join us at the after party.” Without another word, [name] pushes herself away from the counter she’d been leaning on while talking to the blonde man. With Akiteru giving him the weekend off, he actually entertained the thought of attending this time. Even if her invitation was rather blasé and indirect, he didn’t see the opportunity of him attending one presenting itself any time soon. He may be old, by his own standard, but there was a unknown allure to the thought of showing up to a wild party with a woman that was so adamant of his attendance.

Or rather, adamant in his mind. Whether she actually wanted his company remained to be seen, but the curiosity was gnawing at him, and was something he would have to unearth sooner rather than later.

Having an entire night, or a day’s worth, of rest was a rather disorienting, yet pleasant feeling for Ukai. After tending to crops and returning home in the early hours of the morning, the blonde coach was able to catch a solid nine hours of sleep before his shift at the Sakanoshita store with another chance to nap before he needed to head to the club. Despite knowing he had the ability to do so before another restless night, his mind felt the need to keep him awake and alert. Even after showering and styling his blonde tresses into their usual mane—mundane acts that usually came to him automatically—he was hyper aware of the slightest unruly flyaways.

Ukai Keishin was nervous.

He didn’t know what to wear or if there was a dress code or if anything he typically wore would be deemed worthy of an after party. A part of him wanted to leave it alone and let him sport his usual white track pants and tight, maroon muscle tank, but that part of him immediately drowns in the ocean of his anxiety. Another string in his brain prompted him to dress up just a little bit to help him look the part—it had nothing to do with impressing a certain club patron, no—he tried to convince himself. A miserable attempt, but still one nonetheless.

Eventually, he settled on crisp, dark-washed jeans that hugged his muscular legs without being suffocating, paired with a vibrant, crimson muscle tee that hugged his biceps all the same. Ukai still felt a little out of place in the attire, as he often had back when he first assumed the alias Spira, but headed out the door of his apartment before his conscious could dispute it.

He was early again, even more so than normal. Desperate for a drink to calm his nerves and replace his blood with liquid courage, Ukai worms his way around to the bar, signaling the attendant for his usual. Rum and coke in hand, the DJ stands off to the side, hiding like a wallflower, while he studied the sweaty, dancing bodies. Did he know why he was looking for her—no. Maybe partially to tell her she owed him for the candy bar, maybe to tell her he was joining in on the after party this time around.

Maybe to just see her.

Keishin banishes the last thought with a shake of his head before skulking off to the attached patio to smoke. Pulling a cigarette from his pack and a lighter from his pocket, the flame torches the end of the filter at the same time the blonde inhales. Forcefully pushing the smoke out past his lips, Ukai takes a hearty sip of his drink until it’s nearly gone. He was going to need something stronger tonight.

“Is it that time already?” The older man’s head snaps to the voice that had been haunting him subconsciously.

Part of him wishes he didn’t look.

As if to play into her question, [name] checks the large, rose gold watch on her right wrist—an incredibly stark contrast to her outfit for the evening. Maybe it was a hunch when Ukai felt that he had been underdressed, as if his intuition knew that she was going to be dressed to the nines in a black skater dress. Even with a modest neckline, the lace cut out detailing on the sides of the dress accentuated her curves impeccably, playing well with the volume of the skirt, while the open back she was sporting dipped dangerously low.

It took everything in Ukai to not throw every milliliter of restraint and inhibition out the window and fuck her right then and there.

Taking a lengthy drag of his cigarette to hold himself back, Keishin inhales deeply, the smoke billowing past his lips emerging densely and grey in color. “I’m a little early—needed an extra drink today.” The man manages to choke out, downing whatever is left in his little plastic cup for added emphasis.

“Need another?” [name] chirps politely; almost too politely as if to deliberately dispute the salacious thoughts flooding the coaches mind.

“I can get—“

“I owe you anyway,” she reminds him, alluding to the candy bar she had eaten without paying for from the previous night. “Pick your poison.”

“Double rum and coke.” He concedes. [name]’s lips twitch upward slightly at the corner before she plucks the empty cup from Ukai’s hand. He doesn’t miss the way the shellac on her nails grazes against his skin, leaving the whispers of contact to run warm. Immediately, the blonde man uses the nearly dead cigarette between his teeth to light a fresh one—heaven or hell knows he needed the nicotine right now.

Given the silence, Keishin takes the opportunity to absorb his surroundings. From the general direction that [name] initially came from, she wasn’t around any of her friends or really anyone that he knew. That was good at least; there wasn’t anybody else that knew of his presence. [name] returns, two clear plastic cups in her hands and surrenders the darker of the two to the man awaiting. “Hold mine for a sec?” Without thinking, Keishin holds his cigarette between his left index and middle fingers, his drink in the same hand, while taking hers. To his surprise, she pulls out her own pack of menthols and a torch lighter, setting the leaves ablaze before taking her obvious vodka cranberry back.

“You took up smoking?” The older of the two asks in surprise, noting the way her lipstick leaves the slightest bit of residue along the brown filter. [name] gives a shrug.

“Surprised you didn’t notice it sooner, coach. I’ve been smoking since second year.” Ukai gives a roll of his eyes at the use of this strange pet name he’s been dubbed by her. But he thinks about it, thinks about how Suga must have felt probably knowing that she did. Thinks how it just added to this strange, sassy yet happy, wild and free exterior she now had. And [name] notices instantly the very same look Ukai had in his face when he was trying to strategize, trying to figure out a way to navigate a conversation with his team about becoming better—she knows what’s coming next. “Yeah, yeah, I know I should quit or whatever. Suga lost that argument a long time ago.”

“Can’t really tell you what to do when I’m just as guilty.” Ukai gives a laugh—one that is embedded with bitterness and envy at the mention of the third-year setter—yet is just as vivacious as he is. A sound entirely different than she’d ever heard leave his lungs before. She likes it.

After finishing his smoke, Keishin gulps down a hefty swig of his drink before patting [name] on the shoulder before announcing his departure. “I’ll see you inside,” the girl, woman, calls out thoughtfully as she gives a small wave with her cigarette filter between her fingers. Ukai doesn’t verbalize the same sentiment. He doesn’t want to slip up and admit he’ll be looking for her.

But it’s painfully obvious that he is when he takes over the booth. Unable to hide the fact that with every chance that he looks into the audience, he’s searching for that black skater dress that hugs her all too perfectly, [hair color] locks swaying as she moves in the crowd. Ukai can’t hide it at all—not behind the turn table or new remixes meant to get the crowd moving.

He can’t hide the urgency he feels to find her outside in the crisp evening air, smoking on the back patio of the club after his set. [name] is talking and laughing with her friends while thin grey smoke billows from her open mouth before her eyes land on him. Some of her friends take notice to the tension and their shared gazes, some of them whispering his alias in excitement. But [name] just smiles knowingly, if not a little cocky, because she can see that urgency, that desperation, that Ukai was trying to hide. “Wait, [name], do you know Spira?” A bystander asked. Clearly, they weren’t present the last time this was brought up.

“Yeah, I may have met him once or twice,” the woman in question snickers as she strides over closer and closer to the aforementioned DJ.

“Cute,” Ukai sneers teasingly at her jab before instinctively reaching for the half-gone cigarette she pulls to her stained lips. At first, she thought he was going to put it out, considering their little conversation from a few hours ago. Instead, the volleyball coach puts the filter to his own lips, noting the damp fabric probably from her freshly applied lipgloss, and takes a drag. It tasted like watermelons and mint.

“Cheeky,” [name] returns, plucking her cancer stick back from the blonde man. While her friends are still behind her murmuring about the familiarity between the two of them, Keishin and [name] are lost in their own little world. “So since your set is over, and considering you’re still here, I’m assuming you’re joining me for the after party? Or do you have to go to work again?”

“I told them I’d be out of town this weekend,” Ukai tries to play it off as nonchalantly as he could, ties to swallow it down his nerves with rum and nicotine. It proves rather difficult considering the coy smile on [name]’s face is wearing and cracking through his resolve rather quickly. But at least, to him, he could confirm his mind was not playing tricks on him and [name] was just as adamant about his attendance as he initially thought. Even more so with her next statement.

“Cool. Your car or mine?” It took him a minute to process her words even—lust thickening and constricting the flow to his brain at the vague question. Ukai was getting far too ahead of himself, but goddammit how could he focus when the fabric of her skirt hit her mid-thigh and framed her like a Venetian goddess—“I don’t mind driving there.” She adds to coax him away from his silence.

“Nah, I got it. We’ll take mine.”

“Lead the way,” [name] chimes sweetly as she wraps an arm around the coach’s forearm. The physical touch is everything he’s been fantasizing about for the last few days—hellfire and brimstone and sunlight and goddammit why did he wear jeans that were only getting tighter and tighter?

Ukai opens the passenger door to his SUV, supporting the woman as she clambered in cautiously so as not to stumble from her heels. Getting settled in, the coach surrenders his unlocked phone to allow her the entirety of his music library. The irony of the DJ surrendering DJ rights to the passenger was not lost on either of them. Much to his surprise, [name] put on soft acoustic punk as he usually did on his way home from the club. The kind of softness one would turn on to accompany the fragile pitter-patter of rain against the windshield. “Cardboard Swords?” Ukai asks in surprise, more than familiar with the band.

“Flannel is a favorite of mine. I’m kind of surprised it’s in your library.” She adds after she begins directing him to this evening’s party location. From the corner of his eyes, he can see the way her full lips are moving along each word with expertise. He sees the way her [eye color] orbs soften slightly and he can tell this song hits home for her.

She’ll never say why—she’ll never tell him this was the song that helped her move on from Sugawara Koushi while restoring her inner peace.

But Keishin is no fool. He can tell that this is physically hurting her—crushing her soul into the leather seat of his car and, instinctually, he wraps a large hand around hers that’s resting in her lap. “I came out tonight to have fun with you, so don’t you go getting sad on me.” He means each word with innocent intent, yet he cannot ignore the almost hidden, salacious drip to each syllable and neither can she. How could she when his touch sent volts of electricity through her skin?

“Right, right,” she says in a conceding tone, switching the audio to something much more upbeat and a little flirty. “Why did you agree to go out tonight?” If Ukai had an answer, then it died on his lips as he let go of [name]’s hand to reach for another cigarette. The process of lighting the tube, inhaling, and exhaling bought him an extra minute to come up with an excuse; her doing the same giving him another thirty seconds.

“I don’t know.” It’s a blatant lie—a lie that [name] believes all too easily—but Ukai can’t bring himself to admit the truth. He can’t admit out loud that she’s the only thing that’s been on his mind all week or that he jumped at the opportunity, created one even, to be able to have a one-on-one moment with her. Keishin can’t admit that he can tell there are intricate webs spun in her mind and that all he wants to do is untangle them one by one.

And he certainly can’t tell her that even the mere sight of her sends his brain into overdrive and all he wants to do is repeatedly fill her over and over with his seed until she is entirely his, inside and out in mind, body, and soul. There was no way in the nine circles of hell that Ukai Keishin was going to admit to his sinful thoughts.

“It’s just up here.” [name] points with gaunt fingers, cigarette between them as her voice is half choked from inhaling her own smoke. Mirroring the man’s actions earlier, she indulged in her own nicotine habit to quell the budding disappointment from Ukai’s lackluster response. They drove up a slight winding hill and as the trees pass by, the itch for her truth and her history was gnawing at him. He wanted to know why this rambunctious party girl invited him all week to these elusive after parties. Why Flannel ate away at her insides like it did his. Why did her and Sugawara breakup?

But he decides against it for the moment.

“Where are we?” Ukai asks. There’s cars all lining the sides of the road of varying worth—he felt even more out of place than normal with his older SUV, even if it was an upgrade for him, considering the large number of luxury vehicles.

“Bevelle’s house.” [name] says simply, pointing to an empty space in the streets as she throws the butt of her cigarette into the road. The casual way she name drops the owner of the club makes him gawk, catching flies in his mouth had there been any at the hour. With a satisfied, cheesy grin, she hops out of her seat and walks in the grass to meet Ukai on the other side as he clambers out of the vehicle as well. In familiarity, she grips into his forearm once again as they walk towards the forest mansion.

Keishin wasn’t sure what to expect when the two of them walked in, but a home full of people screaming his pseudonym and her name was not on that list. Younger hordes had surrounded [name], greeting her warmly and telling her how glad they were to see her again for the evening. Others were approaching Ukai, telling them how rare and a momentous occasion that the infamous artist Spira was amongst their midst.

“Glad to see you could join us, Spira.” His boss and club owner, Bevelle, approaches the mismatched couple. Bevelle was an alias used by the middle aged woman, her real name unknown to those that didn’t know her know her, and was once upon a time her stage name. While she had chosen a quiet location in the Miyagi prefecture, Bevelle was quite known in the underground scene. Granted, Ukai didn’t know any of that when he’d taken the job. If anything, it was all thanks to her that he was able to learn for his own success as well as granting him the opportunity to learn in the first place. “Good to see you too, trouble.” Bevelle affectionately goes to muss at [name]’s hair, to which she only replies with a cheeky grin.

“How do you know Bevelle?” Ukai presses his lips towards the ear of the woman still hanging onto him as she expertly leads the way to the kitchen. The car ride left her feeling slightly uncomfortable, ashamed even though she would never admit to that, and she knew she definitely needed a drink after it. Part of her was heavily rebuking herself for trying to pry into his mind by asking why he came along, even more so when she put on the one song that shattered her heart every time she heard it. It just excited her that he had it in his library, that he even knew who The Cardboard Swords were, and that he enjoyed the same obscure taste in music as much as she did.

“She’s a close family friend!” The chirp that [name] gives isn’t entirely convincing, like she isn’t telling the truth. Regardless, Ukai washes down his doubt with the beer he was handed, figuring she probably had her reasons. And as soon as the plastic is in each of their hands, [name] downs the contents immediately, hoping to drown out the nerves ebbing from her stomach with vodka. She should have been ecstatic—her old high school crush, her unrequited crush, was here with her, drinking side by side but she can’t help but feel the tension between them—sexual or otherwise.

Just as the two of them down their second round, a piercing voice cuts through the thicket of the masses, calling out her name and capturing her attention. “It’s your song! Come on!” A shrug and a smile crosses [name]’s features as she’s all but dragged away to a different part of the mansion. Much to his surprise, she grabbed onto Keishin to drag him along as well.

The two of them are presented with a myriad of sweaty, rolling bodies—much more gone than Ukai had ever seen at the club itself. It was oddly...sensual, if it could be called that, to see the fluid movements between party goers. Sensual, intimate, strange—all of them could be used interchangeably at this moment.

[name] is dancing with another woman, mouthing all of the words to the current pop song while bobbing and jumping around excitedly before her eyes lock on his. She’s in her element now. All sunshine and smiles like Ukai had seen from on occasion from years ago or most recently at the club, but they’re directed at him for once as she pulls him closer onto the dance floor. The taunting beats and repetitive call of “come on” and the way [name] loosely wraps her arms around his neck as she dances brings Ukai to the realization that this was the end of the line.

The end of the line, because Keishin can’t hold himself back anymore.

Not with the way her hips are grinding against is and she’s laughing warmly and heartily at his slight discomfort and her teeth are glittering off the lights in the dark room like stars in the night sky. Not with the way her head is thrown back and her dress drops low enough to flaunt the expanse of bare skin of her neck and collar bones that are just begging him to sink his teeth in. Not with the way her [eye color]ed orbs are locked with his as she sings along with the music, oddly enough alluding to some form of confession of her feelings.

He can’t fucking take it anymore.

The large hands he has on her hips move just under her arms to hoist her up, [name] instinctively wrapping her legs around his waist to keep her balance. Their eyes are locked, honed in on each other with the rest of the party melting into the background. With her deepest, most wild high school fantasy driving her actions, she grins. “Hi,” is all she says before Ukai cranes his neck back to cover her lips with his.

His kiss is everything she imagined it would be after years of pining. The smell and taste of smoke and wood floods her senses as his tongue laps at the watermelon lip gloss on her bottom lip before seeking refuge within her mouth. His hands, now wrapped around her thighs give intermittent squeezes, either to keep them grounded in reality or just because he needs something to clutch at—she’s unsure of which. In response, her manicured fingernails tangle into his messy blonde locks. Their kiss pours out their desperation, laying it all out on the table for the both of them to see clear as day.

The only thing that prompts them to break apart is the ending of the song.

“You wanna get out of here?” Ukai asks as he tenderly puts [name] back on the ground. As if he weren’t just making out with her moments ago, the motion is delicate and gingerly and almost loving.

“Not yet,” there’s a knowing, smug lilt in her voice as she turns on her heel and throw herself back into the throng of party people. Or rather, attempts. While she’s attempting to flee, Keishin snatches her wrist, pulling her closer until their chests are flush against each other.

“Nuh uh,” the blonde man tuts, “you’ve been asking me to join you at a party all week, now here I am. The hell makes you think you’re leaving my side tonight?” [name]’s grin only grows wider.

“I’ve waited for years for this opportunity, coach, so if you think I’m not gonna have fun with it, you’re dead wrong.” The word ‘years’ constricts the man’s heart—forces his pupils to blow into dilation with her modest, yet blunt confession.

“Years?”

“Years,” she repeats, “ever since that first practice you stumbled into the Karasuno gym as the temporary coach. Why do you think I came to every single exhibition match and tournament? Or came to study and do homework while you guys had practice?” This girl was grinding at every steel line of self-control that was left in Ukai’s body because every word spilling past her lips added an additional ten volts to the sexual tension between them.

“We’re leaving.” He bites out despite the delicate tone. Wrapping his hand around hers once again, Keishin tugs her along time dodge the party goers that threw the two of them curious glances, wondering why they were quick to leave shortly after their arrival. Just to tease him further, [name] almost wants to offer a rebuttal and tell him that they should stay longer and enjoy the show. However, she knows she’s done enough waiting and if he was taking her home, she wasn’t going to argue.

While urgency and desperation was their game, Keishin didn’t cut corners when it came to presenting himself as a gentleman as he helped [name] back into the car. Hormones be damned—he was still going to help a lady into the passengers seat. “You never did tell me why you finally agreed to come out tonight.” She says quietly, as if the two of them hadn’t been making out and dry humping a few minutes prior. “And it’s clearly not because you knew I had a crush on you all throughout third year—“

“Don’t act like you’re the only one with feelings in this.” Ukai grits out, speeding much faster back home than he did on the way to Bevelle’s house. Paying that no mind, [name]’s ears perk up at his own wayward confession. When she asked for clarity, a rumbling groan shakes his chest as he patted down his pockets in search for his nicotine sticks. “I didn’t recognize you the first night at the club because you look different now. Happiness looks good on you.”

“Happiness?” She echos confusedly, turning to face Ukai fully after lighting her own cigarette.

“You used to always look content back then—just barely content and nothing more. And I can’t stop thinking back to those days because you’re this ball of sunshine, kid, and I can’t stop wondering what the hell Suga did to you to dim your shine that badly. I haven’t stopped thinking about you all week.”

[name] is quiet for a moment at his own rendition, his own version, of a confession and she’s stunned. And she can’t tell if she wants to cry or kiss him because this is not that way she ever fantasized this conversation going. It was going better than she dreamed. Better, because the words that Ukai is saying adds an entirely new layer to his amped up personality—he wasn’t just the sexy volleyball coach that she used to pine over. He was a person with deep rooted feelings for justice in the sense of wanting to understand how someone could inflict damage to the innocent and he wanted to rectify said injustices. He wanted to know how someone like Suga could try to dampen her sunlight instead of allowing her to thrive and bloom.

She wants to kiss him, she decides, but since he’s driving, she settles for placing a chaste one on the corner of his mouth. “Serves you right,” she jokes when she pulls away, “it’s been a long four years for me. It’s your turn to suffer.”

“Trust me, this car ride is torture enough.”

[ next ]

[apathetic-revenant]

tidbits from the Fellowship of the Ring director + writers’ commentary track (feat. Peter Jackson, Fran Walsh and Phillipa Boyens)

the prologue, and issue of how to work all the exposition about the Ring into the film, was a source of great difficulty for the writers and went through a lot of iterations. in some versions of the script Gandalf would have told Frodo the story of the Ring in Bag End as he does in the books. at one point they decided to scrap the prologue altogether, only to get a note back from New Line that they had to have it, so Peter, Fran and Philippa had to assemble it from the existing footage they had while they were in England putting the soundtrack together.

the framing of the prologue and exactly what information would be in it also went through a lot of changes before it was ultimately decided that it needed to be from the 'perspective' of the Ring itself since the Ring is in a way a central character in the story. at one point the narration would have been done by Frodo, from the perspective of him writing the book after the quest was over, but it was felt that he didn't have the necessary perspective to make it work and that an immortal character like Galadriel worked better.

although prologue!Bilbo is only seen for a few seconds, costume designer Ngila Dickson meticulously made sure his outfit matched the descriptions given in The Hobbit, including the brass buttons on his waistcoat that he later loses while escaping the caves.

the population of Hobbitton in the opening was mostly recruited from farmers and people living around Matamata, where the Hobbitton exterior set was built. two of the hobbit extras later got married after first meeting on set.

the shot of Sam with the flowers in the extended cut is the only time in the films Sam was actually shown gardening.

the shots of Frodo greeting Gandalf were done with four actors--Elijah Wood, Ian McKellen, a small scale double for Frodo and a large scale double for Gandalf. when the closeup is on Gandalf, Ian McKellen is interacting with four-foot-tall Kiran Shah. when the closeup is on Frodo, Elijah Wood is interacting with almost-eight-foot-tall Paul Randall.

while many of the scale shots of the hobbits are actually done using very simple techniques, Peter Jackson chose to invest time in a few impressive ones early on so as to help really sell the idea for the audience from the beginning. one of these is the shot of Bilbo taking Gandalf's hat and staff as Gandalf enters Bag End--it was actually a very complicated shot that involved making big and small versions of the props and then carefully merging them together with CGI.

most of the Bag End scenes were shot by filming the actors on two different sets, a large-scale one for Ian Holm's scenes and a small-scale one for Ian McKellen's scenes, and then merging them together. however the scene of Bilbo serving Gandalf tea was done with both actors on the same set and used forced perspective--there are actually two tables of different sizes lined up to look like one table, with Gandalf interacting with the larger table and Bilbo with the smaller one.

Gandalf hitting his head on the ceiling was an unscripted accident left in because it worked so well.

before including Thorin's map from The Hobbit in Bag End, the writers made sure to double-check where the map canonically wound up in the books. they gave the task of researching this to Henry Mortensen, Viggo Mortensen's son and a diehard Lord of the Rings fan.

Peter Jackson expected to get pushback from the studio about the amount of smoking in the film, and in particular was ready to have to fight to keep in the scene of Gandalf and Bilbo smoking before the party. however no one ever brought it up at all.

most of the hobbit actors in the party were friends and relatives of the cast and crew. although the books state that Bilbo invited 144 hobbits to his special table, "due to budget constraints" the actual amount of hobbits at the party is probably closer to about 100. viewers are advised not to count them too closely.

some of the hobbit children listening to Bilbo's story were played by Peter Jackson and Fran Walsh's own children. one of them, Billy Jackson, was the only actor in the movie not wearing a wig, because he already had "naturally perfect hobbit hair."

the "Proudfeet!" shot was framed as a homage to Ralph Bahksi's animated Lord of the Rings, which was what originally got Peter Jackson into LOTR.

during Bilbo's speech, the polystyrene birthday cake had so many candles on it it actually caught on fire and started to burn. the take was going so well, though, no one wanted to interrupt Ian Holm, so the cake is just sort of quietly burning away in the background while Bilbo talks.

the seventeen-year time skip in the books had to be compressed in the movie because they needed to get the story going quicker and keep up momentum. Gandalf's appearance when he comes back to Bag End is meant to imply that he's even more disheveled than usual because he's ridden pretty much nonstop all the way to Minas Tirith and back.

the scenes of Gandalf in Minas Tirith were the first time Ian McKellen had been in his Gandalf the Grey costume and makeup for months, as when those were shot he had been filming as Gandalf the White for some time.

there was discussion about using subtitles onscreen to identify locations, since there was worry that audiences would have a hard time following all the different places seen throughout the movie, but ultimately it was decided that this might feel too cheesy so it was dropped.

the voice of the Ringwraith that shows up in the Shire looking for Bagginssss was done by Andy Serkis.

the Green Dragon scene was cut for time in the theatrical release, which Peter Jackson was disappointed by both because it was a chance to see the main hobbit cast in their 'natural environment' before the adventure really starts, but also because it demonstrated the hobbit tendency to be gossipy, insular and distrustful of the outside, a trait they had some difficulty getting across in the films.

the full Ring poem is never heard in the movies; the filmmakers wanted to get it in there and at one point it was recited in full during the Council of Elrond, but it wound up being cut.

the Ring 'speaks' with Sauron's voice at certain moments to try to emulate the sense of psychological horror and dread associated with descriptions of the Ring in the books, which was very hard to replicate on film.

in one very early draft of the script, Merry and Pippin would have been introduced when they were caught eavesdropping on Frodo and Gandalf along with Sam.

Jackson chose to shoot the duel between Saruman and Gandalf as physically as possible because he didn't like "wizard fights" in movies "where old guys shoot lightning out of their fingers at each other" (gotta disagree with you there Pete).

Billy Boyd offered to use a Gloucester accent for Pippin instead of his natural Scottish one, but tended to lose some of his comic timing while doing so. it was decided that the Tooks had enough of a Scottish vibe that the natural accent worked better for the character anyway.

the shot of the hobbits falling off the cliff was one of the first things ever shot for the series. it was also the cause of one of the few serious accidents during filming--one of the stuntmen dislocated his shoulder during the fall, apparently just as a freak accident as the stunt itself was not especially dangerous.

the scene where the hobbits first meet the Black Rider looks like it's in remote wilderness somewhere but was actually shot in a park in the middle of Wellington.

the insects coming out of the ground while the hobbits are hiding is meant to convey the idea that everything living tries to instinctively flee from the Ringwraiths, but Jackson admits he isn't sure if that came across well on film.

the Buckleberry Ferry almost sank between takes and had to be saved with bilge pumps.

like Bag End, the Prancing Pony set was built twice, once at normal scale and once at large scale to film the hobbit actors on. some of the people seen walking past the hobbits in the backgrounds are actually on stilts.

the basis of the Ringwraith scream sound was provided by Fran Walsh screaming while suffering from a throat infection.

no real trees were harmed during the scene of the Isengard orcs chopping down Fangorn Forest: it was two fake trees shot from different angles as they were pulled down.

the question of whether it was appropriate to reference tomatoes in the Weathertop scene (since they are new world vegetables) was apparently a source of some contention among the writers. Peter Jackson was of the opinion that in a movie with a Balrog, a tomato should not strain suspension of disbelief that much.

the fight scene with the Ringwraiths on Weathertop was the first thing Viggo Mortensen ever shot for the films, and also the first time he'd ever used a sword.

the scenes of weapons being forged in Isengard were shot in a foundry and the molten metal seen being poured is real molten steel, because they couldn't come up with a convincing way to fake the appearance of molten metal. the workers at the foundry were recruited to play the orc extras in the scene.

Lurtz was created to provide a kind of 'face' for the Uruk-Hai as well as to be a villain that could physically confront the Fellowship at the climax, since both Saruman and Sauron stay within their respective domains and, aside from Saruman's scenes with Gandalf, don't actually directly interact with the protagonists.

replacing Glorfindel with Arwen is acknowledged as taking a big chance, but the writers were already struggling with the sheer amount of introductions to new characters in the film and didn't want to introduce yet another new character only for him to almost immediately disappear from the story again.

filming the chase scene between Arwen and the Ringwraiths was interrupted by massive flooding at the location. the cast and crew took a break from filming to help shore up Queenstown with sandbags.

when Gandalf escapes from Isengard, Saruman is holding his staff with one hand because Christopher Lee had injured his other hand smashing it in a hotel room door and couldn't hold anything with it.

the scene of Sam and Frodo in Rivendell talking about going home was a pickup shot after the main filming was completed, which is why Sean Astin is noticeably thinner there than for the rest of the movie--as soon as principal photography was completed he dropped all the weight he had gained for the role.

Elrond sounds especially deep and harsh while talking to Gandalf about the weakness of men because Hugo Weaving had a bad case of flu at the time.

the Council of Elrond took 6-7 days to shoot and was "a nightmare" because of the difficulty of keeping track of the eyelines of so many people sitting in a big circle.

Sean Bean occasionally glances down during the "one does not simply walk into Mordor..." speech because he has his lines written on a piece of paper in his lap; the speech was given to him so soon before filming that he didn't have time to fully memorize it.

when Gandalf reacts to Frodo volunteering to take the Ring to Mordor, Peter Jackson told Ian McKellen to imagine that he had just heard his son volunteer to join the Army in World War One.

[xenteaart]

Diplomacy Failure

Summary: The Master and you have an established friendship, a bromance - you’re basically partners in crime. One day the Master comes up with this grand robbery scheme but it takes him months to plan the whole thing out properly, and by the end of it - he’s getting way too impatient and reckless. That’s where you step in.

Warnings: none, pure fluff again

Pairing: Dhawan!Master x Reader

Note: This was supposed to be a short thing so I decided not to create a whole ass backstory around it. The main reason why I wanted to write this was because I usually see MC being mostly submissive in fics (not that there’s anything wrong with it whatsoever) and I craved some diversity so here it goesss. 

Huge thanks and lots of love to my incredible beta @wonders-of-the-multiverse​ i love you to bits <3

The last few months have been hard to say the least. After years of knowing the Master you’d grown accustomed to his severe mood swings, but this was something else. 

Most of the time you never really bothered to get to know all the details of his typically complex and intricate schemes. You simply trusted him with those and did what he asked you to do, not taking any liberty to make your own decisions because he did know better. He was the one spending restless days and nights planning everything out after all, so you never really questioned anything. Until today. 

He was getting impatient and it wasn’t a good thing at all. 

The Master had an impressive set of skills, the ability to wait and execute slow-burn plans exceptionally well being one of them. However this time, he got way too invested in what he was doing, his near obsession leading you to believe it had something to do with the Doctor in the long run.

As for now, he needed to get his hands on something “very valuable and very important” and he was planning to steal it, of course. It was no common robbery though, the ship you were now finding yourselves on was huge. No, massive, so simply threatening a few creatures with his TCE and acquiring the object wasn’t a viable option. The ship’s obscenely advanced security systems were not working in your favor either.

The two of you were pretending to be a regular married couple, mere visitors to the event and so painfully ordinary in your nature as to not draw any attention. Keeping a low profile was essential.

The Master called from somewhere below the console where corridors led to the wardrobe room, and since you weren’t occupied with anything even remotely important you joined him right away. You were happy to merely see him and talk to him considering he now preferred the company of a thousand papers with all sorts of layouts, schemes, his own scribbles and something else in Gallifreyan that you had no way of understanding. 

“What’s that?” you asked, a little taken aback by his excessively fancy suit. 

“Your dress is right there, try it on and see if it fits,” he said casually as he looked in the mirror, ignoring your question and waving his hand at the sophisticated purple dress that was laid out on a nearby sofa. 

Ah. Matching outfits. He could never resist the drama of it.

You looked at the dress, the decoration on it exquisite and lavish. A quiet sigh escaped your lips as you tried not to laugh too loudly.

“If that’s for tomorrow, we’re not wearing that.” you uttered, not even trying to hide your amused grin at this point.

“What? Why?”

“Because we need to be wearing this,” you pointed at a horrendous blue suit and a dress of the matching color, the shade and design of both so ugly and simplistic that the clothing wouldn’t look good on either of you. 

A displeased frown flitted across the Master’s features.

“Come on, we need to look pitiful. Men of wealth love playing charity and chatting with lower class people, helping them out with whatever. It makes them feel better about themselves, boosts their ego.” you elaborated, your words heavily accompanied by expressive hand waving and vocal shifts.

He blinked a couple of times and looked at himself in the mirror again, trying to make peace with the idea of this fashion crime you were both about to commit.

The first step of his plan was relatively easy - he was doing the networking and you were doing the smiling as the two of you were slowly getting closer and closer to higher rank guests that were usually a little too drunk and clueless to not accidentally give away the information you needed most, that being - where the security control room was located. Getting a sample of some rich and wasted guest’s DNA was also part of the job since they all had unlimited access to all parts of this ship. As of now, you were getting a feeling you were never even going to make it to that point. 

The Master wasn’t very good at tolerating stupidity, especially when nobody knew and feared who he was. To all of these arrogant and self-absorbed upper class assholes, he was literally a peasant. Little did they know. 

You could see his hand playing with the TCE in his pocket as he was seriously considering whether to take it out and end this shitshow here and now. That would probably feel really good for a couple of minutes but then both of you would be captured and very likely executed on the spot because no matter how intimidating and dangerous the Master was - the quantity of creatures on the ship would be an undeniable advantage on their side. Plus, he’d spent so much time on plan A, there wasn’t any room for plan B, you figured.

Granted, dying wasn’t something the Master was ever afraid of. But you were human with no spare lives, so his impatience would mean very bad news for you.

“Don’t you want to take a break from this?” you asked timidly, standing in the doorway and not daring to let yourself into the Master’s working space just yet since knocking on the door did nothing to catch his attention. 

He was rapidly glancing all over the papers, his mind being evidently busy with something of more significance than your presence. 

“I can get you some coffee if you like? Or... anything at all, really,” you made another attempt at starting a conversation but it was met with silence once again, except this time you noticed hints of irritation in the way he was making notes and moving things around his table, mercilessly digging his pen into his notebook and purposely making a lot more noise while searching for something buried under these piles of paper.

“Yeah, no worries then.” you sighed as you saw yourself out of the room. 

You were getting fed up with this.

As you were standing next to him and contemplating your options, you felt the air around you change a little. It was an insignificant shift but you were particularly sensitive to emotional fields people and other creatures tended to create, and right now the atmosphere did not feel friendly.

You looked at the Master and then back at the greenish humanoid looking creature he was talking to. The conflict was clearly starting to develop, filling the space around you with tension and unease. 

You were so close to the control room, you couldn’t let that happen. There were only a few more floors you had to pass in order to get to the royalty hall where your main mission would be taking place. 

“For Christ’s sake.” you thought to yourself, recognizing the familiar burning anger in the Master’s eyes as he was slowly losing his already weak grasp on his temper and reaching for his pocket, his actions now fuelled with proper intention of making the man pay for his disrespect and bad manners.

The problem with the Master was - no matter how brilliant and clever his ideas were, his emotions and temper would always get in the way. You had to learn it the hard way by nearly getting killed a couple of times because of it in the past. But pissing off a few soldiers and running away was one thing, and acting hostile on a space station sized ship with no quick way out was a completely different story. 

“I am so sorry, sir, my husband suffers from this terrible condition,” you spoke as you looked at the Master intensely, doing your best to wordlessly communicate with him and beg him to stay silent, “where he gets unreasonably aggressive when he’s upset.”

The man’s expression was now plagued with confusion but it was a good sign, you thought. He was paying attention.

“He’s just frustrated we can’t yet afford to lead a life like yours, sir. Isn’t that right, darling?” you patted the Master on the back, your voice now so sugary sweet it made you want to vomit, but you were committed to your little act and nothing could stop you.

“Please forgive our jealousy, we simply wish to be more like you but it pains us to realize we’re a long way away from that,” saying this made your skin itch, and you were pretty sure the Master’s eye was twitching a little. You looked at him briefly and noted he was indeed… puzzled. 

Your flattery seemed to work wonders on the man’s self esteem, though, his facial expression momentarily switching to pity and its default arrogance mixed with pride. 

You tried not to make eye contact with the Master as you were escorting him away, your hand wrapped around his elbow. Your heart was beating a little too fast for your liking, and your main concern for now was peacefully leaving the floor and avoiding any more fuss on the way because, honestly, you were getting angry yourself.

---

“What the hell was that?” was the first thing he asked you as soon as you both entered the TARDIS safely, the two of you still slightly out of breath from your usual cardio on your way back; the desired object sitting securely in the Master’s pocket.

“I was actually going to ask you this exact same question, how convenient.” you snapped, kicking off your heels and making your way to the console barefoot, the cold metal floor having a soothing effect on your aching feet.

The Master gave you a grim look as he took off his ridiculous and evidently uncomfortable jacket, and swiftly marched towards you. His intimidating aura rarely had any impact on you and you didn’t even flinch at his intrusion of your personal space. You knew all too well he would never hurt you deliberately. 

“I did not allow you to intervene.” 

“You should have seen your face, darling,” you said mockingly, maintaining intense eye contact as if it was a competition on who looks away first. 

“You should have heard your voice, such sweetness and flattery I was worried you were gonna kiss his ring at the end of your speech or something,” he spat out his words with grimaced disgust. 

The two of you stared at each other in complete silence for about half a minute, and your facade dropped first. You burst into laughter, giggling obnoxiously at the memory of the Master’s pure and sincere confusion. You’d never seen him so baffled and mad, the funniest thing of it all being the fact that he had to comply and play along. It made you a little proud of yourself.

The corner of the Master’s lips twitched, his stubbornness and denial still fighting his urge to crack up, but a couple of moments later he finally joined you. Any trace of annoyance was long gone, and a wide smile took over his person as he laughed out loud with you. 

“Idiot.” he commented, still chuckling and grinning while also unbuttoning his lousy shirt. You both wanted to get out of those trashy clothes as soon as possible. 

You suddenly went quiet. With no further talking you simply stepped forwards and hugged the Master tightly, burying your nose in the crook of his neck.

“I’ve missed you.”

He hugged you back, resting one of his hands on your head and ruffling your hair, so very aware of how much you hated it. 

“Missed you too, fool.”

[monchikyun]

XIV. only human

It's not his fault. Gavin repeats that lie in his head like it’s some twisted mantra. He does it until the words merge together and lose all meaning.

 It's not my fault, it's not my fault, it's not my fault. 

Except it is. He can't keep blaming the circumstances for every inconsiderate decision he makes. 

Because it was none other than him who made Connor cry this time. He's supposed to make sure the android stays relatively happy and well, a job he's excellent at failing. 

So what if he loves him like no one else in this world, doesn't mean he has to burden the poor soul with this irrelevant information. They’re friends, first and foremost, even though the Connor who lives in his chest tries to convince him otherwise. It shouldn’t matter. They have each other now, despite the fact that one of them always try to get closer. Though if they ever want to go there, it will have to be a mutual decision. So he’s more than glad he didn’t let Gavin kiss him. Lucky his partner has brains. At least one of them should.

Gavin still can't quite tell whether his feelings are reciprocated or not, and at this point, he's more than terrified to find out. 

That's why he cut Connor off when was about to counterattack with his own verbal ammunition. He’s fortunate to avoid whatever his friend had in store for him, for it couldn’t have been anything good. If there’s something he can’t deal it’s being overwhelmed, feeling too many things at once. If he… if he told Gavin that he loves him too, his heart would most likely give in. And there was no time to emotionally prepare, so any outcome would have disastrous consequences, surely.

 It’s true that Gavin is beyond curious about where his friend stands in all this, but that's the one sentiment that has no say in his emotional hierarchy. Perhaps it’s best to let his affections lie low, at least for now. Easier said than done when he’s cradled in Connor’s arms like a fucking baby. The diabolic android is running his soft hands all over his back as if he’s aware of his maybe not-so-internal shivering. 

It’s too hot to breathe, and yet he can’t stop trembling from the cold. It doesn’t make sense to him for a while until he remembers that he must be running a fever. His ageing body can’t withstand anything these days, just like his disturbed mind. Sometimes he envies Connor his android nature, how he goes against everything that’s natural and still thriving, more than Gavin ever would. He won’t have to worry about getting older or ill, doesn’t have to put any effort into looking this beautiful. They live on a different time-scale, and it scares him stiff. He’s not sure if that’s the reason for his current tears, or if he’s just delirious from the high temperature his system is trying its best to deal with it. 

“Ok, let’s get you to bed.”

His attempt at refusing to move results in a soft whine coming from behind his lips, which only serves to remind him how truly pathetic he is. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.” 

Of course the plastic can read his mind, he doesn’t expect anything less from him. 

Gavin knows the moment their bodies separate he’s going to freeze to death before bursting in flames and that’s just something he’s not sure how he’ll be able to handle.

He hates being sick more than he hates himself, which is a considerable amount. 

His brain is surrounded by a thick fog as he’s being lifted up and carried on the uncomfortable mattress. As he’s being laid down, their contact gets inevitably interrupted, and he has to suck in all the oxygen his lung can take before the coughing fit steals his breath away. When it’s done, he’s left heaving in pain and no one is around to make him feel better. Connor must have finally wisened up and left, good for him. 

“Here, drink this.” 

Or not. It’s just his mind tormenting him with awful scenarios, as it tends to do. 

“What is it.” He doesn’t really care but feels the need to say something, to test out whether he’s still able to speak, if nothing else. 

“Hot water.” 

“Gross,” he complains and chugs it all down like a liquid-deprived desert dweller.

He gets handed another pill which he doesn’t question and swallows in the hope it’ll immediately sort him out. Obviously, there’s no such thing as an instant cure, so he continues sweating under the blanket, utterly overpowered by whatever disease his wrecking his puny mortal body. He’s about to yield to his weakness and beg Connor to lie next to him, because to Gavin, there’s no better concept than dying in his arms. But there’s no one here again. He starts thinking that this all is just a hallucination created specifically to torture him. His eyelids get heavy and there’s nothing preventing him from letting the darkness take him under. 

“Sorry about that.” An unpleasantly wet sensation on his forehead pulls him back from the blissful oblivion, and he can just about make out the worry in Connor’s eyes as his slowly open. 

“A cold compress, it should help break the fever.” The android sounds uncertain, seeming like he’s not sure whether he’s doing everything possible to make certain this stupid old human doesn’t check out. Sweet. No wonder Gavin fell in love with him. Too bad it won’t have any follow-up. 

Another set of coughs forces their way out of his throat, making him ache all over, even more than before. 

“Maybe I should call an ambulance.” 

That alerts his warped survival instinct. He does his best to steer clear from hospitals, for fear of ending up like his mother. 

“No! No, no, please. I don’t… I wanna be here. With you.” 

Gavin tries to communicate that he needs Connor close lest he might drift away somewhere bleak and endless. He expects all sorts of things, but the android stripping his shirt as he sneaks in under the blanket and presses his half-naked front against his sure isn’t one of them. 

“I can regulate my body temperature, so this should cool you down some.” Now when he’s been explained the technical reason for why Connor is willing to be so close to him as he’s struggling to keep himself in one piece, the android truly does feel like an icicle more than anything remotely human. Just the thing he craves. He gathers his last strength and pulls him into a proper embrace, intertwining their legs together because he’ll never have enough of this. 

They fall silent for a couple of minutes or an hour, but eventually, the need to apologise becomes too unbearable to ignore. 

“Sorry.” 

A sound that is barely there, whispered into Connor’s bare chest. 

“For what?” 

Sometimes, he’s grateful that his friend has super-hearing abilities. Not tonight. His throat is firmly against him forming any and all words, but he pushes through regardless. This feels very important somehow. 

“For being such a handful.” 

“You think I care about you out of the goodness of my heart?”

Connor’s body is becoming warm again. Maybe Gavin has already absorbed all the cold and there is no more left. It’s not unpleasant. Quite the opposite, really. 

“Maybe… I don't know.” He’d rather not know. 

But Connor tightens his hold on him, just like it always does. And he can’t fight that anymore.

“You.. “, the android takes a deep, shaky breath,  “you still think I don't love you.” 

And just like that, he can’t resist the tears about to spill over from behind his squeezed eyelids anymore.

“D-do you?” 

Curiosity has ways of finding a backdoor whenever he’s stunned enough to stop paying attention, to which he’s thankful right now. 

“Of course I do, you stupid… human.”

It hurts and heals him at the same time. But the relief that washes over him is something else. It turns the whole heavy atmosphere upside down, making him want to laugh through the pain of it all.  

“Not a very smart choice, given there are many androids who would kill just to be with you.” 

The right moment to stop being serious for once. 

“And yet I decide to fall for the trashiest meatbag I could find.” 

Even their voices reflect that this is a time to be happy. 

“A man…,” Gavin corrects himself, remembering what Connor told to him earlier, “...person of terrible taste, unlike me.” 

What follows is a tiny period of calm when he isn’t sure if he’s still awake or already dreaming, until a soft whisper pulls him back from his daze.

“Get some sleep, Gavin. I promise I'll be here in the morning.” 

“You better.” 

His flesh is sore and heavy, caging a soul that longs to soar. If he’s lucky, this will all have still happened when he wakes up.

“G’d night, tin can.” 

@a-convin-new-year 

I don’t know how active I’ll be in the next week because Christmas = busy, but I promise I will continue working on this until it’s complete //this winter//