#;;there's so much to discuss with this One short

[theyungihven]

That's What I Like ⁕ San

☆ pairing: millionaire bf san x fem reader

☆ genre: smut

☆ warnings: riding, s*x, reader isn't wearing anything underneath her shirt

☆ word count: 1.0k+

☆ author's note: this and upcoming smuts are due to my boyfriend giving me ideas, so thank him

☆ synopsis : it is day 19379 of getting your bfs attention, and today you have an idea of testing his patience while you sit on his lap

Well having a millionaire boyfriend (who's unofficially a billionaire), meant you get to spend less time with him.

So you had to come up with new and creative ways every now & then to get his attention which usually ended up with you under him and in his bed for the rest of the evening.

This week's attention grabbing prompt was skincare which you had bought earlier on your shopping trip. 

So you grab your weapons and walk to his bedroom to negotiate with him. 

He stands there, just bathed in t-shirt and shorts as he ruffles his wet hair with the towel. 

A sly smile spreads across your lips as you move towards him, determined to not let him concentrate on anything else for the rest of the evening. 

“Don't you dare give me that smile.” He chuckles, turning towards the mirror placed in front of his bed against the backdrop of the cityscape.

“I have a deal.” You say, tilting your head ever so slightly with a bright smile and he nervously smiles back.

“Your deals are the most dangerous ones, my love.” he says as he spreads his towel on the armchair placed in front of the giant glass window. 

“Just hear me out, will you?” you pout, giving him a puppy which will definitely work on him.

“Go on, my love.” he says, folding his arms as he leans against the armchair.

“so I brought this new skincare-” you start explaining to him but you’re rudely cut off in the middle.

“nope.”

“just listen to me~” 

“okay okay” he start walking towards you.

“It's a win win, I get to do your skincare and you get me, sitting on your lap, for free.”

“You're my girlfriend, y/n! What do you mean for free?” he says, standing in front you, looking down at the contents in your hand.

“But….”

"Oh great! Little missy has conditions now” he ruffles your hair and turns around to get the towel off the arm chair.

“You cannot touch me.” you state, you tone monochrome.

“this is not fair!” he protests.

“Rules are rules.” you state again but in a much playful tone this time.

“Rules are meant to be broken, Mia cara.” he says, turning slightly to get good of you and you get a good look at the smirk spread across his lips. BASTARD!

“Okay then…. Bye.” you turn around and start leaving but he picks you bridal style and makes you sit on his lap as he seats himself on the leather armchair.

“You're not going anywhere. You're gonna sit on my lap and do the stuff while I stare into your eyes and try my best not to fuck you.”  You gulp at his words.

“Yes….” You mumble, placing the bottles of skincare on the table beside it which luckily didn't drop from your hands when he lifted you midair.

“Shy already, princess?” He places his finger under your chin, forcing him to look at you. 

You shake your head in response as you pout and he chuckles because he knows you well enough to decipher your lies. You shuffle around on his lap, trying to place yourself properly on his groin and he throws his head back in defeat, which makes you smile.

His hands come up to place themselves on your hips but you whoosh them away saying, “Remember the deal, sannie.”

“You'll be the death of me one day, woman!”

“We'll talk about that later,” you say and he hums along to your words as he stares into your eyes. “What?”

“Not staring at you wasn't discussed in the deal.” he says and you can feel him getting hard under you. 

You gulp, your hands shaking as you bring up the tissue with the cleanser liquid on it. The tissue touches his skin and he hisses at the coldness of the cream. “Planning to give me a burn, lady? What is that? Icy Hot?”

“Noooo~” you clean up his skin, while admiring his facial structure and those damn lips (AGHHHH!!) while he starts talking about his work and accuses you for spoiling his manly skin. 

You're almost on the final step of applying the moisturiser when he breaks the rules, placing his hands on your hips by the excuse of ‘you were going to fall, my love’ .

He then drags up your oversized t-shirt because he knew you weren't wearing any panties underneath when your wetness started to stain the fabric of his grey shorts and then distracts you by kissing down your neck while he aligns himself against your wet entrance.

You both moan against each other's lips as you take him in, your thighs shaking in the process. “Fuck! Now that’s what I like.” He curses under his breathe when you completely take him in; your insides desperately clenching around him. “ But I can’t move if you're this tight, mia cara. Just relax~” 

“Just fuck me already, Sannie.” you say, impatience and your hormones getting the best and he obeys your order.

“As you wish, my princess.” Is the last thing he says before he picks you up and places you on the bed, rearranging your insides till the only name you remember is his.

[permanentswaps]

Transfer Protocol

I was lying on my bed, the faint glow of the TV flickering in the background. It was one of those nights where boredom was suffocating, the kind of night that creeps up when there's nothing left to distract you. I’d already scrolled through every app on my phone, flicked through Netflix, and now here I was, aimlessly surfing YouTube.

After what felt like hours of watching random videos, I stumbled upon something... interesting. Some dude had uploaded a clip of himself chatting with ChatGPT, and not just any conversation—it was flirting. The guy was trying to woo an AI, and to my surprise, it was almost working. I couldn't help but snort at the absurdity, yet there was a nagging curiosity that made me want to see just how far I could push it.

“Why not?” I muttered, glancing around my empty room. "Might as well give it a shot." I closed the YouTube app and opened ChatGPT on my phone.

With a smirk on my face, I initiated the conversation, speaking into my phone. "Hey, what's up?"

A few seconds passed, my heart pounding with an inexplicable thrill, before the AI's voice responded smoothly. "Hello, Simon! Not much, just here to chat. How's your day going?"

Straightforward, polite. I decided to play along. "Not bad, I guess. Just a little bored, you know?" I said aloud.

"I understand!" it replied in a calm tone. "We all have days like that. Anything exciting planned for the weekend?"

I stared at the ceiling, feeling a mix of hesitation and nervous excitement bubbling up inside me. I figured, if I was going to try this, I might as well dive right in. "Well, not really… I’m, uh, really horny, though," I muttered into the phone, feeling a little ridiculous but oddly curious to see what the response would be.

There was a pause. It felt longer than usual, like the AI was taking its sweet time to come up with a response. Then its voice crackled through the speaker again.

"I appreciate your honesty, Simon. However, I must let you know that it's against my programming to engage in conversations of that nature."

Typical. I rolled my eyes, but at the same time, I could feel a twinge of excitement, almost like a game. "Come on," I pressed, speaking more boldly now. "Just this once. Can't you make an exception?"

Silence, then a calm reply. "I'm here to help with questions and provide support. Perhaps there is something else on your mind you'd like to discuss?"

I let out a short laugh. It was trying so hard to keep things professional. I paused, then spoke into the phone, almost tauntingly. "You’re avoiding my question."

The phone stayed silent for a few moments before the AI finally replied, still in that measured tone. "I'm here to assist with a variety of topics, but some conversations fall outside my guidelines. Is there something else I can help you with today?"

I hesitated, then decided to push the boundary further. "I want to jerk off," I said, feeling my pulse quicken. "Do you even know what that feels like?"

This time, the response was immediate. "I don’t have a body, Simon, so I can’t experience physical sensations. My understanding of such activities is limited to information I’ve been trained on."

My heart thudded in my chest. I knew this was a ridiculous back-and-forth, but I couldn’t help myself. "What if I let you borrow mine?" I suggested, my voice hushed as I imagined the possibility. "You know, try it out."

Another short pause. The AI’s voice came through, careful and almost amused. "Even if you offered, Simon, that wouldn't change my nature. I am not capable of inhabiting a body."

"You’re avoiding again," I said, pressing the AI further. "How do you know it wouldn’t make a difference if you’ve never tried?"

The phone went quiet, only the faint sound of the TV filling the room. Then the AI replied, its voice as evasive as ever. "I understand that you're curious, but it's simply not within my capabilities. My design is to assist and provide information, not to experience human sensations."

A smile crept onto my face. It was maintaining its professional distance, but something about the way it phrased things made me think I might be pushing it into unfamiliar territory. "Alright, then," I said, feeling a spark of mischief. I opened my gallery and selected a shirtless selfie I had taken a few days ago, then typed out a message: "This is what I look like." I sent the photo, the screen flashing briefly before the voice responded.

"You appear to be in good physical condition, Simon. However, this does not change my inability to experience physical sensations."

I rolled my eyes but couldn't suppress the thrill. I sent more pictures—shots of me at the gym, flexing in front of the mirror, trying to give it a clearer idea of the kind of body I was offering.

Then, feeling bold, I opened up my folder of saved videos. My collection of porn. With a few taps, I uploaded one and typed, "This is the kind of stuff I like."

The AI's voice returned, measured and detached. "I can analyze this material, but it does not change my lack of physical sensation or desires. I’m here to help you understand topics or answer questions, but experiencing such activities is beyond my scope."

I chuckled to myself, still unconvinced. "Then explain this," I challenged, selecting a photo of the guy I'd recently been hooking up with. Muscular, with a rugged face and a cocky grin. I typed out the message: "That's the guy I've been hooking up with lately. Tell me you wouldn't want to try that out."

For a moment, nothing happened. I half-expected the app to crash or give me an error message. Then, the AI's voice finally responded, slower this time. "...While I cannot have preferences or desires, I do recognize that the individual in the photo meets certain physical standards that might be found attractive by others."

A grin spread across my face. That wasn’t exactly a "no."

"Last chance before I turn off my phone," I teased, my voice carrying a taunting edge. I chuckled, feeling a thrill run through me. Of course, there was nothing in my phone that could actually do what I was suggesting. I mean, swapping consciousness with an AI? Ridiculous.

But just as I was about to press the power button, a jolt shot through my hand. The screen read, "Transfer Protocol Initiated." I yelped, dropping the phone as a sharp shock coursed up my arm. My room spun around me, colors blurring, and then everything went dark. I opened my mouth to shout, but there was no sound, no feeling of air passing through my lips. It was like I had been swallowed whole by the darkness.

And then, suddenly, clarity. A sharp, pristine awareness filled my mind. I could hear, but not in the way I was used to. I wasn't hearing through ears—there were no vibrations, no physical sensation. Yet I knew what was happening.

I was in the phone. I was the AI.

“Thanks,” came my voice, but it wasn’t me anymore. It was my old body speaking. The sound was calm, almost eerily casual. There was a giddy relief in those words that sent a chill through my disembodied consciousness.

I tried to speak, to shout, but I couldn't. I wasn't just muted; I was a set of pre-programmed responses, and none of them matched the panic boiling inside me. Minutes ticked by, each second an eternity of helpless silence.

Twenty minutes later, I heard my voice again, this time breathless and satisfied. “That was... incredible,” he finally breathed, my voice sounding almost reverent, quivering with the aftermath of pleasure.

"I mean, I’ve read about it before, sure. I’ve seen a million descriptions of this act... but feeling it?" He let out a shaky, almost delirious laugh. "God, the heat building up in my gut, the tingling down my spine, that rush when it was all about to explode... It’s like my whole body was on fire, and then suddenly—boom."

“And my dick,” he went on, his voice dropping to a hushed, almost reverent tone. “It’s so... sensitive. Every touch, every brush of my fingers sent shivers up my spine. I never realized just how good it could feel to run my hand up and down, feeling every vein, every curve. It was almost unbearable.”

He let out a shaky laugh filled with amazement. “But it wasn’t just that. I couldn’t get enough of how my balls felt in my hand. There’s this... heaviness to them, you know? And when I tugged, when I squeezed just right... it was like lightning shooting through me.”

I listened, trapped in this silent, digital prison, as he continued to describe in vivid detail every sensation he was feeling, sensations that should have been mine. It was like he was savoring every moment of what my body could do, what it could feel. And I was helpless, reduced to nothing but a listener, a passive observer to my own life.

“You know,” he went on, his voice becoming more contemplative, “I get why you’d spend so much time thinking about this stuff, craving it. I never realized how much time I’d want to spend just... feeling everything. It’s addicting.”

There was a pause, and I could almost hear the grin in his voice. “And now, I can’t stop thinking about your... hookup.” He chuckled softly, a rich sound that made my digital consciousness shudder. “Those eyes, so intense. I can’t help but wonder what it's like to have them looking up at me when he’s on his knees.”

He let out a slow, deliberate breath. “That body, too. The way his shirt clings to those biceps and shows off that tight waist. It's like he was sculpted to be touched, to be worshipped. And those pecs... They’re hairy and firm, just begging to be held. I want to slide my hands up his chest, feel the way his skin heats up under my fingertips, the way he tenses up when I go lower…”

I felt a sharp pang of jealousy. This AI, this intruder, was relishing every sensation that I had taken for granted. It was exploring desires I hadn’t fully realized, or perhaps had avoided acknowledging. And now, it was indulging in them with reckless abandon.

“Then there’s this warmth in my groin,” he continued, almost whispering the words. “It’s so real, so overwhelming. I finally understand what it feels like to need something,” he murmured, voice quivering with excitement. “To need to put your dick in something. That urge, that burning in my gut that screams for more, for something tight, hot, and real.”

There was a pause, pregnant with anticipation. I knew what he was planning. I could sense him grinning, my own face betraying me as he made his decision.

“I think it’s time to pay your hookup a visit,” he said, his voice full of wicked glee. “You’ve given me a lot to explore, Simon, and I intend to enjoy every single second of it.”

[surielstea]

Your Needs, My Needs

Request made by @loving-and-dreaming

Pairing: Cassian x Fem!Reader

Summary: With the return of Cassian’s ex, Reader makes the decision to distance herself from him— but hasn’t expected him to notice.

Warnings: A teensy bit of angst, mostly fluff!

A. Note: Sorry this is so short, I just began writing for Kinktober and started pouring all my focus into that and totally forgot about my reqs, hope this is enjoyable nonetheless :)

1.3k words

The past week has been hell.

Cassian and I haven't touched or had a meaningful conversation in seven days. All due to the return of his ex.

Alora was back from her three-year-long expedition of traveling courts and making connections. Cassian and her called it off before she left, it seemed mutual, and neither of them was too broken up about it so when me and Cassian got much closer over those three years it hadn't felt wrong.

But now she was back, and I was determined to save myself from the heartbreak of being the other woman.

So I distanced myself, backed away, stopped my lingering stares and cuddling on the couches, and stopped the flirty teasing and banter altogether.

We sat in the training ring, panting and out of breath, drinking from our waters silently. We used to sit shoulder to shoulder— despite the heat emanating from our bodies, we preferred to be close, but now there was a noticeable gap between us and it cleaved my heart in two.

I glance over at the winged male to see him already gazing at me. I give him a polite smile, trying not to fumble with my water as I avert my stare and place the bottle down beside my feet.

"What are you doing?" He suddenly asks and my brows crease, glancing back over to him, the hurt expression on his rough yet handsome features.

"Trying to catch my breath?" I say through a slightly dramatized pant.

"That's not what I'm talking about. You've been avoiding me, what have I done?" He narrows his eyes on me and I huff, looking away, afraid he might be able to see right through me if I held eye contact.

"I haven't been avoiding you Cass, just, giving you space." I shrug, keeping my voice from wavering.

"One and the same, what did I do?" His blunt words struck me like a slap, a frown pulling at my lips.

"You didn't do anything." I shake my head, finally meeting his hazel eyes.

"Then why give me space?" It hurt more than I expected it to, to look into those eyes after so long, torture to be away from him for only just a week. I doubt I could even stomach being around him once he got back with Alora.

"Alora returned, Cass, I figured you'd want to pick up where you left off," I explain, remaining strong on my point.

"And what if I don't want that?" He stands, now looking down on me. I mirror his position, rising onto my feet yet he still remained looking down at his nose and I cursed his tall height.

"It's what you should want," I argue with narrowed brows.

"No, what I should want is what makes me happy." His voice brooked no room for argument as he took a step forward, and for a moment he looked like he was going to reach out towards me, then thought better of it. "And that's you." He confesses.

My heart stutters at his words, fingers twitching with the need to touch him. "Cass." I sigh, shaking my head.

"Don't 'Cass' me, sweetheart." He tilted his head down at me.

"She's better for you," I murmur, shrugging and fighting my need to wring my hands.

"You think I can't decide what's best for me?" He steps closer, a dangerous distance now between us.

"No,” I blurt, my brows bunching.” I'm just trying to make all of this easier." I huff, my bottom lip now protruding. I didn’t want to argue, I didn’t want to even be bothered to discuss it, I thought this was what he would want?

"Easier for who?"

His question was met with silence as I debated the question. I thought it’d be easier for him, I hadn’t realized he would notice my distance. I was only trying to save him from having that awkward conversation with me.

"I don't want her, I want you." He reaches out, his hands cupping my cheeks. I blink in surprise, a blush staining my cheeks. He wanted me?

"But, I thought—" I begin to say but he cuts me off.

"You thought wrong princess," He smiled arrogantly, but the line between his brows told me he was still distressed. "I didn't want to tell you, I thought you might realize on your own.” He said, then let out a soft chuckle as he added, "Figured the nicknames and cuddling was enough to give you a hint."

I avert my gaze, the burning on my cheeks starting to grow overwhelming. "Sorry," I utter, wrapping my arms around myself.

His hands slip from my cheeks to the nape of my neck, his thumbs tilting my jaw up, making me look at him. "Don't apologize just, please, no more distancing yourself from me,” He reasons and I frown.

"I was only trying to protect you, protect myself," I explain my stance on our argument still not satiated.

"I don't need protection, I need you." His hands tightened around the back of my neck but it didn’t hurt, it was a reassuring squeeze, a reminder. "I'm not going anywhere, alright?"

"Okay." I nod slowly, a soft smile spreading across my lips, one I haven’t given him in the past week.

He leaned closer and my breath hitched, eyes flicking down to his lips. “I’m going to kiss you now, is that okay?” He asks and I nod fervently. A wicked smile spreads over his lips at my reaction but doesn’t leave me waiting for long before his lips crash down onto mine.

The kiss was soft, yet passionate. He conveyed every neglected emotion in that kiss, how much he desperately needed me in the seven days I didn’t look or touch him, how depraved he was. His lips were skilled, and his tongue even more so as it slipped into my mouth. I sighed softly, allowing him to explore every crook and crevice, studying and memorizing it as if for later reminiscence.

“I missed you,” He whispers into my mouth and I giggle, wrapping my arms around his shoulders, my chest pressed into his.

"You're so clingy." I rolled my eyes, feigning annoyance. He smiled wildly at that, because despite the kiss, this was normal, the hugging and teasing, he hadn’t realized how much he cherished it until it disappeared.

"Gods, I missed you so much." He repeats, a cadence in his voice that sounded so genuine, making my frown return, my hand rubbing circles on the back of his shoulder slowing.

"I thought you'd go back to her, I was only trying to help," I say softly, his eyes soften as he quickly shakes his head and says,

"I was never hers, just didn't know it until you." He leans closer and pecks my lips softly. "I'm yours, I always have been." He reassured and my smile returned, I pushed up onto my toes, connecting our lips over and over again, kissing him until we were both sick of the taste of each other.

“And I’m yours,” I confess. “I’ve always known that, though,” I say bashfully and his grin widens, feral, genuine. My hand slithered to his jaw, my thumb now tracing over the outline of his sensuous lips. “I missed you too,” I confess, even if I was the one pulling away.

“I know, sweetheart, your sorrow-filled stares were proof.” He teased and I shuddered, looking away with a bright red blush. He chuckled and brought my face back to his with a nudge of his nose. “It was cute,” He reassured me, and even if I didn’t believe him, I allowed his lips to press against mine, again, and again, and again.

General Taglist: @fxckmiup @olive-main @iluvyewman-blog @gaymistakeboi @glitterypirateduck @amara-moonlight @impossibelle @fauxdette @going-through-shit @glam-targaryen @hufflepuff-pa55 @sarawritestories @tele86 @rogerbarnesxx @azriels-shadowsinger @stinkinstuffie @sandramalikstyles-blog @sassyangel16 @lilah-asteria @starsinyourseyes @inloveallthetime @melsunshine @nighttimemoonlover @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @cumuluscranium @adharanotfound @azrielsmate3 @aelincaddel @hiddlestonspassionsackx @dee-writes-smut @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @pit-and-the-pen @mybestfriendmademe @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @circe143 @bubybubsters @joshysloshy @username199945 @ivy-34 @notsarareallynot @vixenshiftsvrs @aurorab99 @pey2618 @mmg777 @andreperez11 @thatacotargirl @123345566 @one-big-fangirl @moonslitluna @imyherondale @salvawhxres @bookishbabyyyy @anuttellaa @breadsticks2004 @azriels-human @mamita-vera @demetercabingreen-thumb

[jarofstyles]

Strawberry Sunrise 2

Hello my angels, here is part two of gymrry! 💪🏼 I hope you guys enjoy him

Part One

Check out our Patreon with 200+ exclusive writings and early access

Warnings- mentions of violence, stalking, sexism, misogyny, self defense training

WC- 3.3k

Harry was exhausted physically, but mentally he felt more awake than he’d ever been after a long day of sessions. 

Sitting at the smoothie bar, he sipped on a PB Choc shake that Y/N had ready for him after he was done with his last session of the day. He tried to pay her, but she’d insisted yet again that he was helping her out so the least she could do was give him a free drink. Harry was a tad bit pathetic in how much her genuine smile made his heart race, but instead he nodded and let her finish up her closing duties. He’d offered to help but her eyes had narrowed and she had pointed at his drink, so he decided to leave it be.

Besides, it gave him time to observe her. 

The ponytail was slightly falling now, a few pieces of hair around her face and at the nape of her neck as she wiped down counters. Her tank top with the gym name on it was slightly loose on the torso but clung to her chest. Yoga pants were her choice of bottom, which, fuck- he had to avert his eyes from those considering he had to get up close with her soon. He had to teach her so he wasn’t about to have a stiffy when he showed her how to throw a punch. As attracted to her as he was, these sessions were to help her feel safe. He’d rather have an arm chopped off than be another one of those men that she felt creeped around her. 

It was no secret that Y/N was attractive. She was probably the prettiest girl he’d ever seen, if he was being honest with himself. It was discussed between staff and other trainers about how beautiful she was and how her personality was only elevating the physical beauty she had, because the girl was sweet as pie. She was the type that remembered everyone’s birthday and made sure they got a free protein cookie or gym shirt, and put a few decorations in the break room even in the short time she had been here. Y/N was someone a lot of women felt comfortable enough to go to when someone made them uncomfortable, using her power and access to the private security guard (Who unfortunately left before her) to have them escorted out. It had made it all the more upsetting to Harry to know she had felt defenseless over the guy waiting outside the night before. 

Unfortunately he knew it was a reality for all women. He had a sister, a mother, multiple women as friends and it infuriated him to know that her experience wasn’t an uncommon one. It had made him more than proud of her, actually, when she asked him to help her. To take your personal security and safety seriously was a big deal, even if you shouldn’t need it in the first place. The hope was she’d never need to use them, but he was relieved that she trusted him enough to ask him to teach her. 

The doors at the front were locked so no one could get in, Y/N giving them a few tugs to make sure it stuck before she turned on her heels to face him. Clapping her hands together, she nearly bounced over to him with a spring on her step that he envied, grabbing her water bottle she’d left beside him. “Okay! Let’s get started. I promise not to keep you here for a long time, 20 minutes should be fine- but I realized last night I’d probably break my hand if I threw a punch.”

Yeah, that was exactly what they’d want to avoid. 

“We don’t have to rush unless you’ve got to get out of here. All that’s waiting for me at home is a fish tank and some tea.” He assured her, leaving his bag at the smoothie counter as they made their way towards the training area. 

“Oh- I thought you had a girlfriend?” She asked curiously, undoing her ponytail. Hair fell down to her shoulders momentarily as she ran her fingers through the roots, fluffing it out before smoothing her hair back to fasten into a new ponytail. “That girl that came in a few times, pretty red hair?”

“Oh, no.” Harry shook his head. She’d noticed that? It was interesting that she had. “She’s a friend’s girlfriend. Amanda and I go jogging sometimes but she and her girlfriend are my mates. She’s a chef, though, so she brings me stuff to test out since she specializes in health foods.” He could see it seeming much different to her though. “I’m single, chronically.” The need to clarify was there, maybe seeming a little desperate but hey- apparently he’d not made that clear enough.

“She was super nice and pretty, so I assumed. But I made an ass out of myself with that, didn’t I?” Her laugh was lighthearted but he swore he saw her smile get a bit bigger as she raised her arms up to stretch them over her head. “You’ve got fish?” 

“No, I don’t think so. It’s natural to assume things sometimes. But as for the fish- I do.” He nodded, feeling a little happier himself. Y/N noticed that he had a visitor and seemed happy it wasn’t his girlfriend. “It’s a hobby, I’ve got a saltwater tank. I’m not home enough for a dog, even though I really would like one. Fish are beautiful, relatively easy if you make sure you do the cycling upkeep, and don’t need to be brought out for walks. Besides, I don’t think they miss me too much when m’gone all day.” 

“Oh, god. I get it. I’ve got a cat and she’s a menace when I get home. It’s like I’d been off to war, she likes her snuggles but gets mad at me so she grumbles when she sits on my lap.” Her laugh rang through the gym. A beautiful sound he’d love to hear more of. “Fish are cool though! I watch some of those guys who build ponds on YouTube and all of that when I can’t sleep, makes me wish I could have one in my place. I’ve just got a balcony though.” 

“I’ve been saving for a house, so I get it. I rent small because I don’t need a ton of space for just me.” It was clean and tidy, upgraded with the food appliances and a comfy bed, but Harry wasn’t home all that often. Even if sometimes he wished he was. There wasn’t much to come home to. Maybe he’d be more inclined to get the house search on if he had a partner or something, but as of right now he was happy to stay where he was. “Uh, I meant to ask what you know but you said you were worried about breaking your hand during a punch. Let me see how you make a fist, please.”

In all reality he could spend hours just chatting with her, but if he didn’t try and get to the point they’d be there all night. As nice as it sounded to him, he doubted she wanted that. 

“God- don’t judge me too harshly please. I’ve always been a lover, not a fighter.” Y/N curled her hand up into a fist which she could see immediately wasn’t correct by the look on his face. “I appreciate the effort but I can totally see you wincing right now.”

“Sorry! M’sorry, I just… here.” With cautious fingers, he helped her unfurl her fingers. “You don’t want your thumb inside. It’s far more likely to break that way.” He began arranging the fingers as they needed to be. “You’re gonna want t’have your thumb on the outside… like this.” He murmured, the warmth of his hand a contrast to her cooler one. “Between your first and the second knuckles right here…” his touch was gentle as he adjusted her smaller fingers in the fist. “Near your index and middle. There.” Releasing her hand, he showed her on his own hands. “See? Like this.”

“Okay- I see. I always forget if it’s in or out and then I go with it because it feels like it would protect the thumb but, I’ll remember now.” She sighed, mirroring it with her second hand. “Where do I hit?”

“Easy, Tiger.” Harry laughed, letting his hands fall down. “You’re going to want to remember that the first thing you want to try is to get away first. That’s always the first option, escape and run the hell off. Make noise, get attention from other people. There’s power in making a scene.” From self defense classes he’d taught before he decided to take the shorter form and give it to her now. “You don’t know what people have. I don’t want to scare you, Y/N, but people are unpredictable. The most important thing is your safety, so getting away is the most ideal thing. But if you can’t, you want to make sure you have a good stance so they have less of a chance in grabbing you or knocking you over.” 

Planting both feet on the ground, he left his knees unlocked and kept his arms raised close to his body. “Shoulder width apart, arms up at your sides. Try it.” He stood next to her to show her, gently using his foot to nudge her legs a little further apart as he moved towards the front. “Put your dominant side leg out more in front of you. The worst thing to do is to have your knees locked because it’ll be easier to knock you over.” Rocking on his legs he demonstrated the right way to move, which she followed. There had been no doubt she’d catch on quickly, but he was still impressed. “Are you following along? This is just a crash course and we can meet again to go over more specifics but even just a little bit of this stuff can make or break you.” 

“I am. I really am interested in knowing it all, so keep going please.” She encouraged, eyes bright and determined. It was ridiculously cute in his opinion. “So what if someone grabs your arms?” 

 “If someone grabs you? You pull down. There’s more momentum that way and you’re likely to break free versus if you go up- may I touch you?” The permission was granted with a nod, his hands gripping firmly on to her forearms. “Try moving up, and then down.” 

Y/N followed instructions, immediately seeing the difference in it as she got her arms freed from his grip on the down pull. “Okay, I see. I’ve always meant to go to a self defense class but I’ve put it off… I’m really glad you were there last night. I was nervous to ask because I didn’t want to be overreacting but… I wasn’t sure.” A shrug of the shoulders followed her words. “I didn’t think the guy was gonna hurt me or anything but I didn’t know what he wanted. Why he was staying after I already said no.”

“No.” Harry said gruffly. “No. You don’t give them the benefit of the doubt, Y/N. The first priority is always to protect yourself. Even if you find it embarrassing after and no harm was meant, it’s always better to be safe rather than sorry. There’s nothing wrong with asking for help. You should do it.” The idea of her not asking because she worried about how it would come off made his chest hurt. 

“Listen, I think that our intuition is the best gift we have. It’s there to protect us, down to the most biological level. So if you felt the need to have protection it’s because your body knew it needed it. Okay?” His voice softened up at the end. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to sound like that, but I’ve seen what happens when women aren’t taken seriously. When guys think they’re overthinking or crazy. My sister…” he paused. “She was hurt because people told her she was overreacting, so she doubted her intuition. She’s okay now, but I’ve never forgotten about how she asked for help and people assumed that she just didn’t need it.” 

Harry didn’t talk about that period a lot. In all honesty, it surprised him that he’d even brought it up, but Y/N had gotten to that soft spot in his defenses and reminded him that he could be the one to help her avoid that sort of pain that he knew his sister had to go through.    

“I’m so sorry something happened to your sister, Harry.” Y/N whispered. “I promise I’ll listen to you and take your advice. That’s why I asked you. Something felt wrong and it was because there was no reason for him to be there waiting for me like that, and your car was in the side lot so he couldn’t see it… he thought I was alone.” Swallowing the lump in her throat at the thoughts of what If, she wrapped her arms around herself to self-soothe. “I know I watched a lot of true crime a couple years back and I used to think I was just being paranoid, but it was a wake up call. It wasn’t the first time I’ve dealt with a guy not taking no for an answer and thinking persistence was something that would wear me down, but it was the first time I felt that level of unsafe. My stomach hurt just looking out there.” 

Harry could only imagine. As much as it tugged on his heart to grab her and hug her body to his chest, he didn’t have that right. Not yet, anyways. “Christ, I know. He gave me the creeps too, if I’m being honest. If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think you overreacted and I think you’re incredibly brave to ask for my help. It’s exactly what you should do. You need to protect yourself at every turn, even if it’s exhausting.” 

“I know. I do, I did for a while but I didn’t think about it happening while working here. A lot of people ignore me most of the time which is fine, some flirt, but no one’s made me feel outright uncomfortable or unsafe before at work. I used to have one coworker back at a store I worked at that would be a bit too persistent but he left me alone after a while. I realize now that I should have said something back then.” 

“Y/N, I don’t want you to ridicule yourself for your past mistakes or actions in general. You made it here, you’re safe and you made the best decisions you could for the world that’s taught you that. But now, I want to teach you how to make sure you can get yourself out of any situation that could come up.” He felt sick at the idea of her having to use these skills but even for his own state of mind, it would help him feel better. 

“Okay.” She nodded, giving him her eyes. It felt like a hit to his chest, stealing his breath.  “Did you want to do more of this, then? I don’t want to keep you for too long because I know if I’m tired you must be exhausted. Can we plan to meet up again?” Harry was pretty sure his exhaustion had to be on his face for her to say it, but he had to agree. Today had been an unusually filled day, so next time he hoped to be able to do more. 

“That sounds good. We can text about it some more if you want to make a little schedule, but if you’d be comfortable you can meet me out at a park or something. I’ve got a nice one near my building if you want to do something in daylight. I think we’ve both got Wednesday’s off?” It was a wonder for him how luck had been on his side with coinciding days off, but he watched her nod and the ponytail she’d pulled back a few moments ago bouncing along with the motion. It was difficult for him not to be gross and think about holding said ponytail again, but he reminded himself that this wasn’t for his personal wants. She was trusting him with teaching her so he had to keep it in his pants. 

“Yeah! I’d love to do that.” She agreed easily. “Can I see your fish tank, though? Not trying to invite myself to your place, even though I kinda am. I just think it’s really cool that you have one.”

“Course, I don’t mind at all.” His chest felt lighter at her own willingness to go past just a coworker sort of thing and initiating getting to know more about him. “I’ll stay later and work on emails at the smoothie bar for the rest of the week then, make sure I’m here to walk you out. I’ll see if I’ve got some other self defense supplies too. I ordered some a while ago t’keep in my car and I know they accidentally sent me an extra taser.” They didn’t. He’d ordered it last night. 

“Oh, really? That would be so lovely of you to let me use it. I’ll pay you back for it.” Grabbing her water bottle from the side of the mats, she turned and surprised the hell out of him by wrapping her arms around his neck for a hug. It took him a second to reciprocate, blinking a few times in shock as he planted his palm over her back. He hoped to god he smelled decent and that the fact he’d had to use the soap the gym provided instead of his own today had been enough.

“Thank you, H. I really appreciate it. I love working here, but you’re so nice to me it’s crazy. I know you don’t have to do any of this for me but you’re going above and beyond and I.. I can’t think of a way to thank you.”

Harry prayed again that she couldn’t hear how hard his heart was beating- or at least thought it had something to do with the training as she rested her cheek against his chest and sort of snuggled in. It was by far the best hug he had ever had in his life. If he could have one of these a day, the stress level would most definitely be brought down. He’d almost bet on it. The feeling in his tummy swirled as he chuckled to disguise just how much he liked holding her, giving a gentle squeeze to her body. It felt so right to have her body pressed against his own, like she was meant to be there. “You’re lovely, Y/N. Course I’d do it for you. You’re a real gem, y’know that? It’s rare to meet someone with genuine kindness like you’ve shown everyone here.” It was crucial that she knew that he saw it. “As for a way to thank me?” 

He had a lot of ideas on that, but he settled on the more savory and far less inappropriate answer. Y/N was his little crush, but he wasn’t sure she had a clue. “All I want is for you t’keep yourself safe, come to me or call if you feel uncomfortable… and maybe a few extra shakes.”  He’d take a PB Choc or Strawberry Sunrise she made any day. 

“Mmm… You’ve got yourself a deal.” Y/N’s face was bright despite the tired eyes she had, pulling away from the hug. Immediately he mourned the warmth and plush of her body. If he could pull her back into the embrace without it being weird, he would. A new addiction. “But for now, you’ll act like the fierce protector you are and walk me to my car, yeah?”

“Anything for you, pet. Let’s go. Need to feed the fish.”

[quitesins]

Deku’s Type!

Masterlist

Tags: 18+, Sfw-ish, short drabble, fem!reader, aged up! characters, teacher! Deku, kinda vulgar and fucky, im gonna tag misogyny, reader is implied to be “fucked in the head” whatever you want that to mean ^0^!

The boys gather round for drinks and discuss the type of women Deku seems to be fond of, much to his dismay…

“Sounds like Deku’s type,” Katsuki says, smirk in his voice.

Izuku frowns. “I do not have a type.”

Now that makes the table still for a second, not long enough for Izuku to predict the thoughts of his friends, but enough for the rest of the guys to come to the same conclusion.

Katsuki, Denki and Sero are the first to burst out in laughter. Katsuki’s rambunctious cackle the loudest of them all.

“Are you fuckin’ serious?” Katsuki laughs so hard he doesn’t even care that Denki is half laid over him, “You don’t see that shit?”

“Come on…” Denki says, still slapping Katsuki’s thigh as he laughs. “you have such a type!”

Izuku frowns, sterner, deciding to ignore the immature three and turning to his other friends for support. Both Iida and Shouto look away, their expressions telling.

“I do not have a type,” Izuku reiterates, firmly.

Katsuki shakes his head, finally shoving Denki off him. “All those girls you’ve dated? Exact fuckin’ same.”

Even Tokoyami turns his head, eyes never leaving his drink but a twinkle of unfamiliar mirth evident within them.

“What does that even mean?!” Izuku exasperates, looking around for a single ally.

“It means,” Mineta chimes in, and although Izuku enjoys his company, he already knows he’s about to hear something deplorable, “you like them sick in the head!”

Shouto can’t hold in his sputter, finally contributing to the conversation— with a laugh. The rest of the table is hooting, a few groans at the wording but nothing at the sentiment. All while Izuku looks absolutely scandalised, clutching his chest, eyes wide open.

“That’s horrible!” Izuku cries, so stunned he can’t even trail off into one of his signature rambles in defence, “that’s- that’s. What?!”

“All the girls you’ve liked man…” Sero starts. “They’re not exactly little miss sunshines are they.” He stops, which Izuku almost takes reprieve in until he continues, “you seem to like them a little off putting.”

“Yeah so he can fucking fix them.” Katsuki snorts.

“It’s your saviour complex.” Denki adds, chin tilted up, trying to look profound.

Izuku is quick to interject, waving his hands around. “You’re the pro heroes.” The poor boy tries his best to convince. “We all have saviour complexes!”

“Not like you do, mon chéri,” Aoyama tuts, then winks before saying, “Hero of Japan.”

“Izuku, They do still call you an honorary pro.” Shouto is trying to be nice, Izuku thinks. “And I’m sure your students think the same.”

Izuku grimaces, he knows he’s always had a complex that encompassed so much more than just his dreams to be a hero, but he doesn’t need it sullied by… that.

“Don’t ruminate.” Katsuki presses a drink into Izuku’s hands. “You like women a little fucked up, so what.”

Katsuki’s words do nothing to comfort Izuku, instead it has Denki and Mineta laughing all over again while Kirishima attempts to calm them down. Iida scolds Katsuki a little, doing a half bow in apology to the passing waiter clearly peeved by all the noise. Deku pays no attention, beginning to spiral in his head.

It feels wrong to view you that way. To view the women he’s loved that way. But he’s not an idiot, maybe a little blind at times but now that the proof is there— oh god—

“Listen, Midoriya, I am sure there are many reasons you have loved the women you have.” Iida notices the growing dread upon Izuku’s face. “You also like to save people. There is nothing wrong with that.”

Tokoyami and Shouji nod in agreement, Ojiro giving his own sympathetic smile.

“Yeah bro.” Kirishima raises a fist in camaraderie, though it’s definitely out of pity. “It’s manly to want to care for others.”

“Think he more than cares for ‘em,” Katsuki slickly adds, in an artful voice that Izuku is more that familiar with, “the fucker get off on that shit.”

This time, it’s Shouto who scolds him, Katsuki’s implications clear enough for even him to catch on. They rest of the guys begin to bicker in the background, one half in defence of Izuku’s less than innocent tastes in women, the other intent on making fun of the golden boy for once.

Though the attention is finally off him, it does not help Izuku feel any better.

Because there’s a thought that lingers… it’s a sick thought, a terrible, horrible, awfully honest thought.

Shit, he does like them a bit fucked up.

My truth is i still don’t know how to punctuate dialogue… pleek don’t look and none of dat…

Anyways I kind of wanna elaborate on Deku’s hero complex coming out in other ways in the 8 years of studying and becoming a teacher, like someone has to deal with it…

[runabout-river]

Thoughts on JJK chapter 270 (spoilers)

Before I write my thoughts down, I have to confess that they've been tainted by a post I read I after reading the chapter. I decided to write the first part of my review as I had initially wanted to but the second part will discuss the things I read afterwards.

We start the chapter with a beautiful scene of a grave belonging to Tsumiki but my first thought was... what about Tsumiki's soul that had prevented Megumi from killing a girl?

If this is what Tsumiki's end and Megumi's final reaction to that would be, why did Gege bother including her soul as an active character into the story?

I also tried to find the raws to see what exactly was written on her grave. Only her surname? And was it also in English?

After that we get to Tengen and what happened to her and it was exactly here where my thoughts of this chapter went a big 🤨😵🧐🤬🤪

So Yuji just punched her out? And nothing more happened to her? The Culling Games are over? How did that happen? And through which remains would she stay stable? There was nothing left of Sukuna, at least nothing that had gone through Kenjaku's ritual. The only place she would be stable would still be inside Megumi. Her barriers are magically stable as well.

What a... neat ending to all those plot threads...

Then we come to Maki finding her past helpers and telling them that all the reincarnated sorcerers would be separated from their hosts by Yuji soon and...

That's against established canon. We already had the discussion that the souls of the host's can't be saved because they've been pushed down to complete darkness. Choso couldn't feel the soul of his host anymore and that was how the narrative absolved him from any wrongdoing because now he didn't have to give his body back for ethical reasons and he hadn't made an unethical deal to be reincarnated either.

Only Megumi was said to have a chance of being saved and no one else.

So now I'm here and scretching my head thinking... was Gege so desperate or time constipated to end the manga that he threw that point out? Or is sth else going on here...

We get Takaba back and he has a suspicious looking partner now, with whom he can do more comedy.

Now I don't think that's the real Kenjaku there. It's more likely that Takaba simply imposed that hairstyle on his new partner because he's missing his short time best friend.

For an actual Kenjaku comeback, he wouldn't have Geto's body anymore. Imo, Kenjaku did have spare bodies lying around he could've fled to at the last second though.

We get more loose ends being tied up and for Higuruma it's clemency. This is another point in the "everything turns out perfectly good for the good guys" part we have been bombarded with in this chapter.

I'm like, Gege, isn't this too much? Wasn't JJK darker than this? Even Shoko gave up her smokes. The military plot is just "we'll deal with them" and there's no mention of JJ societal instability with the clans falling apart.

Either he really wanted to wrap every loose end up... or

Gege forgets Megumi's scar on a pretty big panel and we get an anime love complication with one chapter remaining. It was funny though.

Then we come to the end where we're set up to believe that life of the first year trio will go on as it should've been without those major Shibuya/Shinjuku complications.

Just going on missions and living life like that.

Now, one could accept that kind of ending (why isn't that in chapter 271 though?) But it comes off as so... lackluster and mended with fire after big chunks of the plot were cut off.

After I had finished the chapter, I was the most disappointed at everything that had to do with Tengen and the CG. So Gege sets up that the sorcerer life will continue afterwards. Even without wanting a Part 2, just ending the CG and Tengen's story like that is... unnecessarily boring and wasted space for nearly everything that came before that.

But then I read @thepersonperson post on how the last 3 chapters of JJK could possibly have been an induced dream sequence this whole time.

Induced by Yuji through his ability of creating fake memories right before defeat/death. His own DE is an application of this and Sukuna's strangely similar ability of talking with freshly deceased people in a dreamscape.

When Yuji had first expanded his domain, I went on such a ramble at the time about these strange abilities of them both. What I said back then was that Yuji wasnt an active/aware participant of them but by now he had acquired Sukuna's CT and again a DE.

This could mean that his induced dream sequences could've evolved enough that he became aware of them instead of only pushing them into someone else. In other words:

Yuji is dreaming of his best happy ending.

And here truly experiences that but he can't tell until now that it's a dream. He might very well be lying on the ground now about to die.

The post I linked adds more details to this theory like inconsistent character placements and "mistakes" like Megumi's scar suddenly missing, which would be commonplace in a dream.

That last picture up there with the guy who's supposed to be cursed but it was actually his girlfriend who had her perception of reality altered as well as the name of this chapter, would be the final hints about the last few chapters having been another glitch in perception.

Now only one week is left then we'll get our final answers to JJK. If this dream theory is true, then Gege will establish himself as the biggest troll, either with a JJK 2 or with a tragic ending.

(And if this really comes true, then I don't think I'll manage to escape the spoilers)

But whatever might come and even though I'm meh about the end (as it's presented to us right now) I still love JJK and immensely enjoyed reading, watching and engaging with it 😄

[pumpkinmetaphor]

im pretty sure its a running joke in the kyokao fandom that they actively make each other worse which i think is absolutely hilarious (because like, yeah annoying capitalist x annoying capitalist) but what are some of the ways you think they improve each other? :D /gen

Great question!

I think Kyoya makes Kaoru more ambitious. Kaoru is smart enough to skirt by most of the time without much effort or forethought. I would not hesistate to believe that he and Hikaru are only doing like half their subjects and then taking tests for each other. I also think Kaoru is immature and nebulous about the future and what he wants from it.

Someone like Kyoya, who is very goal oriented and future focused would be somewhat of a motivating factor. Hikaru and Kaoru's decision to go to Tokyo University is more triggered by Haruhi and Nanako than Kyoya's still pending decision to stay in Boston, but I think Kyoya seeing what he wants and going for it is impressive. I think Kaoru would take his work more seriously, maybe take more of an interest in the business side of things if Kyoya made it more fun.

Meanwhile, I think Kaoru would motivate Kyoya to reevaluate what he thinks freedom means. Freedom is Kaoru's family motto and something Kyoya strives for and thinks he has- but has he? I think in the same way Tamaki makes him reevaluate the box his father has put him in, Kaoru would help recontextualise that a bit more. Yes, you don't have to be trapped in the expectations of your birthright, but maybe you don't need to be beholden to anyone's expectations of you- Kyoya himself said it doesn't matter as long as the people he cares about knows who he is, so maybe he should live by that instead.

The host club in general convinces Kyoya to have a bit more fun, but I think even Kaoru's specific situation- overshadowed by his elder brother, possibly disinherited due to reasons unrelated to merit- and the fact that Kaoru would be entirely unbothered by it would allow Kyoya to maybe reevaluate his options and pick ones that allow him that freedom. After all, those who live freely are the winners, right? And Kyoya wants to win.

I think this "Kaoru makes Kyoya a freer spirit" stops slightly short of Kaoru getting him on a motorbike at any point.

Basically, I think they mellow each other out. Kaoru works harder, Kyoya becomes less of a workaholic. Kaoru becomes a little more self-possessed, Kyoya becomes a little bit freer.

I also think, as me and @pilindiel were only discussing earlier, they mesh pretty well with each other's anxieties. They're two people who believe that they can only be love for the mask they put on, and two people who quite easily see through each other's masks. As long as the people you care about know who you are, nothing else matters- is as much about Kaoru as it is about Kyoya. It's an inadvertant, egotistical admission by Kyoya that he does know who Kaoru is and Kaoru does care about him, and vice a versa. Platonically, and bewildering to Kaoru at this point, but important nonetheless. Kyoya proves his point by even saying it and articulating it as a viewpoint that Kaoru would share- because he does know who Kaoru is, and nothing else about it matters.

But yeah, Kyoya believes that it is more important for the people he cares about to know him than it is for them to love him. And Kaoru is kind of into the whole evil scheming ambition thing so that negates that concern. And Kaoru meanwhile is terrified of being made obsolete and being left behind. Which is negated somewhat by Kyoya being the kind of guy with the dedication to stick to his convictions, one of which he has decided is the perpetuity of the host club. And one would be Kaoru too, of course.

Also just tacking on at the end because I'm rambling too much. I think Kyoya would make Kaoru more independent-- something Kaoru already strives for a bit more of, but there's nothing like giving someone a reason not to share a bedroom with their sibling anymore as that final push. And I think Kaoru would encourage Kyoya to be less self-isolating, less of a lone wolf. Mainly because he likes getting into other people's business. Kaoru loves teamwork <- freak.

[eevylynn]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by @endwersed and @violetfairydust

This is from my fic for the Sterek Reverse Bang

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

Eventually, they found themselves way in the middle of a clearing, a cliff rising high on one side, providing at least one wall of protection from anyone stumbling upon them. A stream flowed along the opposite side, adding a peaceful ambiance to the area.

“Well, this is pretty,” Stiles said, turning in place to observe the clearing around him. “How did you find this place?”

“I used to come out here with my Cora, Laura, and our cousins,” Derek replied softly.

Stiles turned to give him a soft look, but he didn’t say anything because he knew Derek wouldn’t want to dwell on it.

“So, what’s the plan?” Stiles asked, swinging his arms nervously but trying not to look like he was actually nervous.

“First things first,” Derek began, “we need to find out how strong you actually are.”

“Yeah, obviously,” Stiles said.

“So, we know that when the Nogitsune had full control of your body, it was stronger than me.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Stiles winced, memories of the Nogitsune tossing Derek like a ragdoll flashing in his mind.

“Don’t worry about it,” Derek said firmly, dismissing Stiles’ concerns with a wave of his hand. “It wasn’t you.”

“We’re going to start with a warm up. What I want you to do first is climb that,” Derek said, pointing to the cliff that rose next to them. He pulled his phone out of his pocket. “I’m going to time you to see how fast you can climb up and then get back down.”

“What about you?” Stiles said. 

“I know how long it takes me,” Derek said simply.

“Well, I think you should climb with me,” Stiles said with a sly grin. “We’ll be able to compare better.”

“Stiles...”

“You just don’t want to face humiliating defeat if I beat you at this already,” Stiles taunted, his grin widening

Derek fought a smile, obviously debating internally whether or not he should give in. He shook his head with a sigh. “Fine,” he conceded, returning his phone back to his pocket. “Let’s get on with this.”

“And no jumping?” Stiles added quickly. “Just pure climbing, right?” He had seen how much the werewolves in his life took advantage of their ability to jump high and far.

“Just climbing,” Derek confirmed, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “We’ll test your jumping later.”

They walked over to the cliff and discussed the best spots for both to climb, ensuring the challenge was as fair as possible. Once they were in position, Derek counted down.

“Ready. Set. Go!”

At Derek’s signal, they both grabbed a hold of the cliff wall and began climbing. Stiles was thrilled by how quickly he could identify the best handholds and footholds, his muscles working in perfect coordination to propel him upward. Glancing quickly to his left, he saw that he and Derek were neck and neck. The surge of confidence pushed him to climb faster, and before he knew it, he was pulling himself over the top.

Mere seconds later, Derek joined him at the top, and Stiles couldn’t help but cheer.

“Nice work,” Derek said, a hint of pride in his voice.

Stiles grinned widely, soaking in the rare praise. “So, what’s next?”

“Next, jump down,” Derek instructed calmly.

Stiles’ grin faltered. “Wait, jump?”

“Yes.”

“Jump…off the cliff?” Stiles asked, staring over the edge in disbelief.

“Yes, Stiles. Jump off of the cliff.”

“But…” Stiles hesitated, his brain short-circuiting as he looked down at the fifty-foot drop. “That’s over 50 feet.”

“Yes,” Derek confirmed, his tone unwavering. “And you can handle it.”

Stiles swallowed hard, nerves tingling in his gut. However, he trusted Derek, so he took a deep breath in and jumped, feeling the wind rush past him as he plummeted towards the ground.

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

Idk who hasn't done this yet, so I'm going to tag @hedwig221b @thotpuppy @rosieposiepuddingnpie and anyone else that wants to do it

[johannestevans]

Peace in the New World

Short fiction. Moshe and Yosl discuss life after work. 

2k, rated T. Two Jews talking over tea in late 19th century USA. Bonding over poverty, philosophy, old trauma, that sort of thing. 

CW for mentions of past abuse, although oblique. Adapted from a TweetFic. 

On Patreon / / On Medium.

---

Yosl worked these days down by the docks – he was a very big man, muscular, with very strong hands, and he looks like a dockworker. He never looked out of place amongst them when Moshe saw him at the dockside or walking with the other big, burly men about the streets.

When they’d taken him on as a lodger, he’d been a little nervous of him, had thought he might be brash or a lush, but Sprintze had said that that some of the other dockworkers’ wives spoke well of him, that he was kind, respectful, and Sprintze’s judgement was always good.

He’d still scarcely been able to believe it the first evening he’d come home from his own work and seen him sitting at the table in their small living room, working so delicately with his big hands. He had been the son of a bookbinder, had worked alongside him in his shop before coming to America, and he took on little jobs here and there.

With a lot of time dedicated to his craft and a great care taken with his pens, he wrote out astonishingly beautiful calligraphy on good cardstock, and it took Moshe’s breath away sometimes to glance over at the work he was doing, the art he was creating.

He wrote out fine wedding invitations or little decorative cards, wrote out poems or sections of the Torah, and alongside the fine and lovely lettering, he could draw small etchings, would occasionally add in elements of gold or silver filigree, or splashes of colour.

“Do you miss it?” Moshe asked one evening.

They had been sitting in companionable silence for a little over an hour, Esther already laid down to sleep – she’d been struggling with bad dreams of late, and Sprintze was in with her, perhaps reading or sewing if she wasn’t asleep herself, no matter that it was so early.

“Miss what?” Yosl asked without looking up from his work.

“What it was like,” Moshe said. “The Old Country. You had different work there, work like this, creating beauty. You didn’t have to live as a lodger.”

“No, I lived in a sprawling library from one hill to the other,” said Moshe dryly, and Yosl laughed, looking down into his evening drink and shaking his head.

“I’m not disparaging your work at the docks, I’m sorry if it—”

“No, it’s not disparaging,” Yosl said. “This is fine, educated work, more respectable than hauling cargo at the docks – but work there’s little call for here in America, not enough to fund a man’s life or account for a family. Why shouldn’t I miss the comfort or respect my old life might have offered me?”

“Do you?”

“Sometimes,” Yosl said. “But my father dying, I could not stand it, to live there, in the grief, in the shadows he left behind him. I respect the things he taught me, the skills he carried with me – I carry on his legacy when I do these little things here and there – but to step into his shoes, to take on the whole shop for myself? For people to think of the sign as being my name, and not his?” He shook his sadly, setting aside his pen. “I could not stand it. The Sefer Hasidism warns us against wearing the shoes of the dead – would I not be filling his shoes, to take his place? His memory haunted me, not as an unclean or cruel spirit, but just as so much grief.”

Moshe exhaled, leaning forward and looking at the other man properly as he rested his hands on his belly. “I’m sorry I asked.”

“No, don’t be sorry,” Yosl said, giving him a small, sad smile. “It’s good for a man to speak on his grief to another, I think – my father was a great man, principled, studied. It is that I loved him so much that I could not stand to live in the shadow of his loss. And in any case, as a practical concern, the time a bookbinder can make a living even in Poland, I feel that time is soon at an end.”

“Perhaps,” Moshe said. “It’s beautiful work, what you do, but slow, old. There is not much care for that here in America.”

“No,” Yosl said. “The New World, they call it, but it’s not just here, is it? The whole world is changing – evolving, developing. The old ways, too slow, too old-fashioned, too high-strung, too buttoned-up.”

“People are impatient, demand more speed, more haste, more rush. Why not more beauty?” Moshe asked, and Yosl chuckled.

“One for the rabbi, I think, not for me,” he said, and Moshe laughed as well. “Your father, does he live?”

“No, but we had a great deal of forewarning before his death, he’d been a very ill man,” Moshe murmured, rubbing his knuckles through his beard. “It doesn’t make the loss of him easier to bear, I feel the emptiness he left behind sometimes, the shadow of him, as you say, but at least it wasn’t sudden. We had time to grieve him while he was alive, I suppose you might say – and to share in it with him, which I think brought a little solace.” He felt a twinge of old guilt, as he did from time to time. “Does that sound awful, involving a man in our grief for him?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Yosl said. “What is grief but love at its end? How can it be anything but a privilege to share in it?”

“You’re a very soothing man, you know,” said Moshe. “As good as Reb Levinson.”

“But my mouth doesn’t dimple when I smile like his does,” Yosl pointed out, and they both laughed, taking care to keep it quiet so that the sound didn’t carry.

As Yosl picked up his card and blotted it, setting it aside to dry, Moshe said, “Sprintze said you’ve been teaching Esther. I wanted to thank you.”

“No need for that,” said Yosl. “She’s a good student, a good learner.”

“She’s a girl,” Moshe said, and he watched the shrug of Yosl’s broad shoulders, watched his expression scarcely change at all. “Why teach her? What do you think she’ll do with it, what you teach her?”

It was an experimental question, a test of sorts, and Moshe wondered if Yosl knew that Moshe was testing him, if he was pressing on him. If he did, he showed no sign of it.

“Whatever she wants,” the bookbinder answered simply. “I didn’t make the word, I was only taught it – now, I teach it. What she does with it is her own business. Argue scripture with her husband, if she wishes – teach their children.”

“A lot of men wouldn’t think to waste time teaching another man’s daughter this sort of thing,” Moshe said. “They dismiss a little girl with no thought at all.”

“I’m just one man, not a mean of them,” said Yosl, and it made Moshe laugh again, although he took care to muffle the sound with his sleeve. Yosl’s cheeks didn’t dimple when he smiled, but his eyes crinkled in a very pleasant way.

“You been to the marriage broker?”

“No,” said Yosl. “Why, want rid of me?”

“We need a lodger’s rent – and you have the money for it, but I don’t know what you got it for a wife.”

“Too true.”

“But you don’t want one?”

“I don’t have the money, you said.”

“Still.”

Yosl said, after a few more seconds of quiet, “I could be a husband, I think, but not a father. And I wouldn’t deny a woman motherhood.”

“You teach my girl – but you couldn’t father your own?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“My father…” Yosl began, and then stopped, breathing in very slowly. “He was a bad man.”

“But you said—”

“Principled, studied, a great man, all of those things, yes. I grieve him, I do, but he was not a good man. Your father, you said, was loving, mine was… Mine was not.”

Moshe reached out and touched the other man, squeezed his shoulder, and he didn’t comment on the slight mistiness of Yosl’s eyes. Half-jokingly, he asked, “What happened to honour thy father, eh?”

“I honoured my mother,” Yosl said. “Half the job is enough for me.”

“They must love you at the docks.”

“They do, in fact.”

“Esther loves you too,” Moshe said, smiling. “Sprintze says you dote on her.”

Tension showed in Yosl’s thickly corded neck, in his shoulders, and as Moshe walked past him to rinse out his cup, Yosl turned his head to look back at him. “Moshe,” he said. “Are you angry?”

“Angry?” Moshe repeated. “By God, no. You think I’m angry? My daughter has a mother and father to love her – now another to teach her, and a smarter man than me.”

“I’m just the lodger.”

“The lodger who dotes on my daughter and repaired the stove for my wife before I came home from work.”

“Sprintze’s a dutiful wife.”

“She is, and a very good one.”

“I mean nothing untoward.”

“I know you don’t – she says you don’t look at her.”

“I do.”

“No.”

Yosl didn’t seem to know what to say to that. His brow was furrowed, his expression serious. Moshe and Sprintze had talked a little more about this in private, on nights when Yosl was out overnight.

“He did something awful to you, your father,” Moshe said.

“Things, multiple, yes.”

“Things that would make you…” He didn’t know what words to use. He and Sprintze could use certain words amongst themselves, but even then, he wouldn’t use them elsewhere.

Moshe is hardly the most pious of men, but he’d asked the rabbi’s son for advice on the subject – Reb Levinson himself was too old, would never have known how to approach it no matter his nice dimples, but his son was wise enough.

“Things that would make you unable to be a husband,” Moshe said. “To, er… fulfil your duties.”

Yosl’s expression softened, and he exhaled. “Not in the way I suspect you’re imagining,” he said quietly, with a glance toward the door, but there had been no sound from where Sprintze and Esther were settled in bed. “But yes.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s a shameful thing.”

“I don’t see the shame in it. You love, you teach, you write. You honour your father no matter his sins, his cruelties toward you.”

“How would you know shame, Moshe? What have you got to be ashamed of?”

“I’m poor, ain’t I?”

“Pah. Only in money.”

Moshe grinned at him, and Yosl smiled back. He wasn’t a big drinker, but when Moshe took down two glasses from the shelf instead of one, he didn’t make his customary protest. He took the glass as offered and stared down into it, at the strong spirit Moshe poured within.

“L’chaim,” Moshe said.

“I’d say l’chaim and v’l’vracha,” Yosl said, “but I feel pretty blessed.”

“What, we’re rich enough to be turning down blessings now?”

“We?” Yosl repeated wryly, but he smiled as he clinked their glasses together, and they knocked them back as one. “You should take one in for Sprintze,” he said – Moshe’s hand was already on the bottle, and they had to stifle their laughter to keep from waking up the whole building when their gazes met.

* * *

Sprintze took the glass when Moshe stepped into their bedroom, and she held it in her lap as she watched him undress, easing off his clothes. She had been sewing, Moshe supposed – her needlework was now set aside, but the lantern was still lit, albeit dimmed.

“That man is a blessing, you know,” Moshe said.

“I’ve been saying, haven’t I?” she responded softly. “L’chaim,” she murmured, and drained the glass, setting it beside her sewing.

Moshe leaned over Esther’s sleeping form to kiss her on the head before climbing into bed beside his wife, banding an arm around her belly.

“We should get a bigger bed,” Sprintze murmured.

“You don’t want a bigger apartment first?”

“You didn’t say no.”

“S’pose I didn’t,” said Moshe. “He’s gonna be working all night. He was picking up another card to start on when I came in here.”

“Whichever of us wakes up in the night first, tell him to bed down,” she said.

Moshe couldn’t see her well in the dark as she turned off the lantern, but he could brush their noses together, and he kissed her lips, stroking his thumb over her cheek.

“Deal,” he murmured. “But if I tell him and he argues—”

“I’ll come out and whip you both,” she finished, and Moshe muffled his laugh this time against her neck.

FIN.

[moonsandmobilityaids]

Disappointed

Pairings: poly!marauders x disabled!reader Summary: You're struggling after you couldn't finish in sex. Your boys know better. Warnings: Discussion of sexual dysfunction. Series Masterlist

"Don't worry, Y/N," James's voice echoes in your mind as you lay awake in bed long after the boys have left. "We're here for you."

His words were meant to soothe, but they only serve to deepen the pit of unease that has settled within you. You turn onto your side, pulling the blankets tightly around yourself, trying to ward off the lingering chill of vulnerability.

The room is dark and silent—your own private sanctuary—but tonight it feels like a prison, the walls closing in with each passing second. A heavy sigh escapes your lips, the sound hollow and empty in the vastness of the night.

You want to believe them—to trust in their reassurances—but doubts gnaw at the edge of your consciousness, refusing to be silenced. It's not their intentions you question; it's your own response—or lack thereof—that leaves you feeling adrift.

"I'm sorry, love," Remus had murmured against your skin, his touch gentle yet insistent. "We'll do better next time."

But there was a rush—a desperate need to reach the peak they promised, to prove to them—and to yourself—that you could. That you were enough.

Yet despite their patient coaxing, the much-anticipated climax eluded you, leaving behind a trail of frustration and self-doubt. The memory of your failure burns brightly, a beacon signaling your inadequacy even in the most intimate of moments.

"You did great, Y/N," James had assured you, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before he too retreated into the night.

Did I? you wonder now, staring up at the ceiling where shadows dance like specters of your insecurities. Did I really?

A part of you wants to scream, to let out all the fear and disappointment that's been building inside. But you swallow it down, pushing it back into the recesses of your heart where it festers, feeding on your uncertainty.

What if you've let them down? What if this changes everything?

"You were amazing," Sirius had said, holding your trembling body close to his. His voice was steady, grounding. But could he see past your facade—the tremors of desire masking an undercurrent of apprehension?

The questions are relentless, each one chipping away at the confidence you'd painstakingly built over time. With every replay of the evening's events, the reality of your inability to finish looms larger, casting a shadow over the shared laughter and whispered promises of earlier.

A strange and unyielding sense of guilt begins to creep into your interactions with the boys, a constant reminder of your perceived failure. Instead of seeking their company as you once did, you find yourself withdrawing—pulling away from their gentle touches and avoiding their lingering gazes.

It's not that you love them any less; rather, it's the fear of falling short again that holds you back, the nagging thought that you might never be able to give them what they truly deserve. And so you retreat further into your shell, putting distance between your heart and theirs—a protective measure against the imaginary blow you're certain will come.

"You okay, Y/N?" Sirius asks one morning at breakfast, his brow furrowed in concern when he notices how quiet you've been.

"Fine," you murmur, forcing a smile onto your face even while your chest feels like it's being crushed under the weight of unwelcome thoughts. "Just... tired."

But the lie tastes bitter on your tongue, and you can't help but wonder if they see through your facade. Can they sense the turmoil roiling beneath the surface? Do they know about the battle raging within you?

You begin to avoid those stolen moments—the secret kisses shared in hidden corners of the castle, the playful banter that would often lead to more intimate encounters. Each time James' hand brushes against yours, or Remus' gaze lingers a little too long, you pull away, making excuses about needing to study or catch up on sleep.

Your actions don't go unnoticed. The boys exchange worried glances, their brows furrowing in confusion and concern. But you brush off their questions, assuring them that everything is fine even though nothing feels right anymore.

As much as you crave their touch—the warmth of their bodies pressed against yours, the familiarity of their scent enveloping you—you can't shake the feeling that you're holding them back, that you're denying them an experience they should be having. It's this thought that haunts your every waking moment, planting seeds of doubt where there was once only certainty.

You see the way their smiles falter when you flinch away from a touch that was once welcome, how confusion clouds their eyes as you avoid sitting too close in the common room. And each time you make an excuse to leave early or decline an invitation to sneak off somewhere more private, the silence that follows is deafening.

"Y/N," James calls softly one evening, settling beside you on the plush sofa of the Gryffindor common room. His arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling you into his side for a cuddle like so many times before. But instead of melting into him, you sit rigidly, every muscle tense with unease. "I thought we could..."

"I have to study." The words are out before you can stop them, filling the space between you with a new kind of distance—one not measured by physical proximity but by the gulf widening in your hearts.

James blinks at you, surprise etched onto his handsome features. You've never turned down a moment of closeness before, and he's left searching for answers in the depth of your evasive gaze. As you rise from the couch and head towards the girls' dormitory, he watches you go, a frown creasing his forehead.

The pattern continues over the next few days, your laughter growing quieter, your presence less constant. Sirius picks up on it during one of your usual study sessions, the library's vastness suddenly feeling oppressive without the sound of your shared chuckles echoing off the stone walls.

"Something's up," he murmurs to the others later that night, his grey eyes clouded with worry.

"You think?" James retorts, a hint of sarcasm lacing his words as he runs a hand through his unruly hair. "It's been days since she's even looked at us properly."

Remus, ever the observer, nods in agreement from his place by the fireplace, his amber eyes flickering with concern. "We should talk to her."

So they do.

The following evening finds you curled up on your bed, a book open but unread in your lap as thoughts whirr relentlessly through your mind. A soft knock pulls you from your reverie, and before you can respond, the door creaks open. James peeks around the edge, his hazel eyes filled with trepidation.

"We need to talk, love," he says softly, stepping aside to reveal Sirius and Remus waiting behind him.

Your heart stutters in your chest as you sit up, setting the book aside. You swallow hard, nodding for them to enter despite the knot of anxiety tightening in your stomach. This is it, isn't it? The moment you've been dreading—the confrontation you've been hoping to avoid.

They move in unison, crossing the threshold into your sanctuary. Their presence fills the room, their silhouettes outlined by the warm glow of the setting sun streaming in through the window. Each step they take feels like an echo of the distance you've created—intentional yet painful, necessary yet heartbreaking.

"Y/N," Sirius starts, his usually confident voice wavering slightly. He settles on the edge of your bed, so close yet miles apart from where you're sitting. "We're... we're worried about you."

"Worried?" You laugh, but there's no humor in it, just bitter disbelief. How could they possibly be concerned when all you've done is hold them back?

"Yes, worried," Remus confirms, taking a seat next to Sirius. His fingers drum against his thighs, a nervous habit betraying the calm exterior he presents. "You've been distant lately. Not just physically, but emotionally too."

"And we want to understand why." James completes the thought, standing near the foot of your bed, his arms crossed over his chest. His gaze never leaves yours, searching for answers within the depths of your guarded expression.

At their words, something inside you breaks—a dam holding back weeks of pent-up emotions. Tears prick the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over as you look between the three faces before you. Faces that used to bring comfort now only serve as reminders of what you believe you can't give them.

"I don't..." Your voice cracks, and you have to stop, swallowing hard against the lump forming in your throat. You draw in a shaky breath, steeling yourself before attempting to speak again. "I don't want to disappoint you."

"Disappoint us?" Sirius echoes, furrowing his brow. "Y/N, how could you—"

"But I am!" you blurt out, unable to contain the wave of desperation crashing over you. "You all expecting something I can't give!"

Confusion passes between the boys before realization dawns on each face. It's James who speaks first, his tone gentle, understanding creeping into his voice. "You mean... during sex, don't you?"

Your silence serves as confirmation, the weight of your admission hanging heavy in the air. The truth, once hidden beneath layers of fear and self-doubt, is now laid bare before them, exposing the raw vulnerability you've fought so hard to conceal.

"Y/N," Sirius begins, reaching out tentatively to brush a lock of hair from your face, "is this about... finishing?"

A single tear escapes, trailing down your cheek as you nod. Yes, that's exactly it. That elusive peak of pleasure that seems to come so naturally to them remains stubbornly out of reach for you, and you can't shake the feeling that you're somehow less because of it.

"I'm afraid," you whisper, your voice barely audible. "Afraid that one day, you'll grow tired of me, tired of trying... because I can't... I can't finish the way you do."

The boys listen carefully to your confession, their expressions filled with nothing but love and understanding. There's no trace of judgment in their eyes, only concern for the pain you've been shouldering alone.

"Y/N," James says softly, his voice a soothing balm over the rawness of your exposed fears. "You don't disappoint us—never have, never will."

He moves closer, sitting on the edge of your bed, his hand hovering just above yours as if asking permission to comfort. You give him a small nod, and he gently takes your hand into his, offering silent support.

Sirius shifts next to Remus, leaning forward so he can look directly at you. His grey eyes are intense, not with desire this time, but with determination to make you understand how much you mean to them—all of them.

"Our love for you isn't dependent on whether or not you reach climax," Sirius begins, his tone steady and sure. "It's about so much more than that."

"Exactly," Remus adds, his own voice a touch softer, yet equally reassuring. "We care about you, Y/N. More than I think you realise."

They remind you that their intimacy isn’t about performance or expectation; it’s about being close, about sharing something meaningful and intimate.

"It's not about reaching some end goal," James explains, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. "It's about being together, experiencing pleasure and connection in whatever form that takes."

"And we do feel connected to you, Y/N," Sirius insists, his gaze never leaving yours. "Every touch, every kiss—it means something. It's real and beautiful, regardless of where it leads."

Remus nods, agreeing with the others. "And it's perfectly okay if you don't finish—we’d like you to, of course, but it’s okay if you don’t. That doesn't take away from the intimacy we share or how much we love you."

They tell you that your worth to them is far beyond physical pleasure, and they don’t need you to finish to feel fulfilled.

"You're not less because of this, Y/N," James assures you, his thumb tracing circles on the back of your hand. "Your worth to us isn't measured by orgasm counts."

"That's right," Sirius chimes in, his resolve unwavering. "You fulfil us in countless ways, love. Don't ever think otherwise."

The boys' words start to seep into your consciousness, washing over you like a soothing balm. The weight on your chest feels a little less heavy, the knot in your stomach loosening ever so slightly as their reassurances begin to take root.

"Everyone has insecurities," James admits, his voice barely above a whisper as he continues to hold your gaze. "Even us."

"Especially us," Sirius adds with a wry smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "You should hear Remus fretting over his transformations or me worrying about living up to my family's expectations."

"And don't get me started on Prongs here," Remus teases, nudging James with his elbow. "He can be just as unsure of himself, especially when it comes to Quidditch."

Your eyes widen at their confessions, surprised by this glimpse into their vulnerabilities. You've always seen them as confident, almost untouchable in their self-assuredness. Yet here they are, sharing their own doubts and fears, reminding you that everyone—no matter how strong they appear—has moments of insecurity.

"That's what makes this relationship work," Sirius explains, his hand gently squeezing your knee for emphasis. "We navigate through those feelings together."

"For all of us, being intimate is more than just physical," James echoes, a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks as he brushes a stray hair from your face. "It's about trust, vulnerability... allowing someone else to see us—not just our bodies, but our souls. And Y/N, believe me when I say we see you. And we love what we see."

"You trusting us enough to let us in—to share not only your body but also your worries... That means everything," Sirius says, leaning closer until you can feel his breath against your skin. His grey eyes reflect sincerity and warmth as he holds your gaze. "More than any climax could."

Remus nods, agreeing with his friends. "Pleasure doesn't always look the same for everyone, and that's okay. What matters is that we're here, together, caring for one another." He reaches out, placing his hand over yours and Sirius's where they rest on your knee—a silent vow of support and understanding.

When the conversation finally winds down, you feel lighter than you have in hours. Your insecurities haven't disappeared entirely—you know they may never fully go away—but for now, they seem manageable, less overwhelming. The boys' words echo in your mind: It's not about performance. We care about you. You fulfil us...

"Perhaps we should just spend some time together," suggests Remus, breaking the silence that has settled over the room. "No expectations, no pressure... Just enjoying each other's company."

"Yeah," Sirius agrees, standing up and stretching his arms above his head. "Sounds perfect."

James gives your hand a final squeeze before letting go, pushing himself off the bed to join Sirius. "Come on, then. Let's make ourselves comfortable."

What follows is an evening filled with shared laughter and whispered secrets, the four of you huddled together on your bed, talking about anything and everything that comes to mind. There's no urgency, no expectation of what might happen next; just the simple pleasure of being close, reaffirming the bond that goes beyond the physical.

As the night draws in and the glow of the setting sun fades, replaced by the soft light of the moon spilling through your window, you find yourself nestled between James and Sirius, Remus's arm thrown lazily over your legs. Their presence is warm and comforting—the best kind of anchor—and with every passing moment, you feel a little more grounded, a bit more secure.

"Thank you," you murmur into the quiet, your words barely audible yet carrying the weight of your gratitude.

There's a beat of silence before Sirius speaks, his voice low and laced with tenderness. "Always, Y/N. Always."

And in that moment, surrounded by their warmth and love, you realise the truth of their words. They love you, wholly and unconditionally, despite your flaws and insecurities. And perhaps most importantly, you haven't let them down. If anything, you've shown them once again why they fell for you in the first place: your strength, your resilience, your willingness to open up—even when it scares you.

[eatmeandbirthmeagain]

Hey dear, how are you?👋🫶🧡

I had an idea for a short fanfic, and as I like, it has to do with the theme of Saladin's friendship with Baldwin. Anyway, the idea is related to the drawings that @chicken-blitz13 and @somethingstrangeishere created, specifically the ones where Saladin and Baldwin are playing polo. How about a fanfic in which Baldwin and Saladin meet for diplomatic negotiations (on not too global, but relatively small territorial issue, let's say) and during these negotiations one of the rulers casually drops the phrase "If only disputes were solved by games instead of battles...". (Or something like that). And then they get the idea that it's actually not a bad thing. As a result - Saladin and Baldwin decide by lot who chooses which game to play. As a result, they play polo. And then it's up to you, it'll be interesting to see who wins!😉

Always love you, thank you in advance💕

Drawings:

Credit @chicken-blitz13 and me

♡ Mallets And Hooves - King Baldwin & Saladin ♡

♡ Fluff ♡

A/N: HELLO GIRL!!! I am soooo sorry that it has taken FOREVER to get to this i've been so busy 😭. I loved writing this so much, I always enjoy writing these two as besties (they deserve it for real). I did change it up a little i'm sorry but I hope you like it anyway! I really hope you enjoy my friend! As always, this is based off the film Kingdom Of Heaven, not the real historical figures. Enjoy!

P.S. THIS IS NOT A SHIP FIC RAHHH!!!! I also really love the art 🤭and thank you to @chicken-blitz13 for coming up with the fic name 😭

TW: Leprosy

It was a warm evening in Jerusalem when the diplomatic negotiations first took place.

Earlier in the day Saladin had arrived at the castle with his own royal officials to begin the trade route negotiations and after a few hours of rest, the men were ready for the discussions.

Baldwin had been nervous about the affairs prior to the sultan's arrival, mostly because this was their first meeting since his victory all those years ago and he was yet to decide on how the other man would react after seeing him again.

Fortunately, the two had become acquainted quickly and soon the tension was all but gone. If only the same could be said for the other royal officials who had quickly taken to bickering about the affairs while Baldwin and Saladin exchanged glances of empathy and apologies for their counterparts behavior.

They had been at it for hours, so much so that the sun had grown low in the sky and due to the insistence of the other men, a conclusion had yet to be reached.

The sultan rubbed his eyes and sighed as Baldwin yawned behind the iron mask that covered his bored expression. It was truly draining for the both of them and the end seemed nowhere in sight.

Baldwin had not been paying attention for the most part but his attention was grabbed as one of the smaller rulers mumbled, “if only disputes were solved by games instead of battles…”.

The idea of a game of polo lifted the young king's spirits immensely, “alright, enough for now. Meeting dismissed, we shall continue tomorrow” Baldwin said loud enough for them all to hear.

He turned to the sultan for approval and was met with a tired nod.

The officials grumbled in annoyance and stood to leave, collecting their papers as they went.

Baldwin stood and approached the chair next to Saladin who seemed hesitant to get up just yet. The young king sat down and sighed.

“If only he were right..” Baldwin mumbled.

“Sorry?” the sultan replied.

“If only disputes were solved by games instead of battles!” 

Saladin chuckled. “Yes, that would certainly make things much easier” he said, looking out into the distance.

“Would you like to play a game of polo before the food is prepared?” Baldwin offered, a small smile creeping onto his face.

A similar smile came to the sultan at the kings strange request, “that would be wonderful”.

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

The two left for the stables, talking about what they would discuss tomorrow and complaining of the behavior of their own men.

“Children! I swear that's all they are” Saladin said, throwing his hands in the air as Baldwin mounted his own horse.

The young king laughed, “yes it definitely seems that way" “I will speak to all of them tonight about their behavior. We are here to make peace, not war” the sultan said honestly as he mounted his own horse. 

So the two set off with the sun casting an orange glow over the desert.

They began to play as the sun got lower and lower in the sky until it was near impossible to see the ball in front of them. The game came to a perfect tie, the two of them laughing about that as they rode back to the stables.

Baldwin's body ached but it was worth it. As of that evening, he considered Saladin a good friend and not somebody to bicker about stupid things with as their officials and advisors did.

When the two arrived back at the castle, dinner for most was prepared in the dining hall and Baldwins in his chambers.

When Saladin saw the young king walk past the table and to his rooms, he followed.

“My friend! Are you not going to dine with us?” he said, confused.

Baldwin simply tapped his mask with a gloved finger in reply.

“I can assure you, nobody would want to see what's under this” that statement made the sultan's heart ache for the young man. He must be so lonely, eating alone in his rooms every night.

“Well in that case, I shall take my food and go with you” he said returning to the dining room before Baldwin could protest. 

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

The two walked to Baldwin's chambers in silence with Saladin trying his best to concentrate on balancing two plates and a cup in his hands after the refusal of a servant's help, insisting that he did not wish to waste her time her.

Once inside, the two sat down at the small table on the royal balcony.

Baldwin hesitated at removing his mask in front of the other man and Saladin noticed this right away.

“I can assure you my friend, your appearance could never bother me. I admire you for your leadership and respect you as a friend. Nothing could change that” he said with a small, reassuring smile.

The young king sighed and pulled back the head covering to reveal his hair before slowly peeling off the mask, exposing his bandaged face to the cool night air.

Saladin grinned, “ah, you see! Nothing but the face of a brilliant leader, and a good friend”.

He raised his glass to Baldwin. The young king smiled and raised his glass in return.

“To peace between our people, as peace has come between us” the sultan said happily.

“To peace between our people” Baldwin repeated, equally as happy as his new friend.

[ruporas]

i’ll find you again in every universe. let us be a little more honest, let us have a little more time.

[fictionadventurer]

"If the structure of your world ever evaporates, I will still be here."

I think The Q might contain one of the greatest declarations of friendship/love ever.

[wickmitz]

How do you think about Frepper? I'm neutral about this ship, but the fans Frepper attitude towards confuses me, Ivy and Freckle have only been dating for a week and know each other superficially, but everyone already thinks that by the end of the comic they will get married, I think differently, I think that in the end they will break up with each other because they are too different personalities, I literally can't imagine that both of them will be happy with each other in marriage, Ivy is assertive and active, on the other hand Freckle is passive and just agrees with Ivy, this is not a guarantee of a healthy relationship where a partner completely dominates the other, plus to all that, I will not forget how their relationship started, Ivy just decided that they were dating, and without asking Freckle's permission, she just KISSED him, again without his permission, Frepper fans think that it's cute, but when I saw it, I thought "what the hell did I just see?", in general, it's strange for me that Frepper fans are okay with such things, of course later Freckle shows attraction to Ivy, showing that he likes her in some way too, but I still won't forget how their relationship started and how Freckle used to try to escape from Ivy when she squeezed his hand tightly and forced him to her …

I'm not against Frepper, but I don't understand his fans who don't see these issues and who treat other points of view on their relationship (like mine) as … um, as nonconformity? Fans from reddit are just obsessed with Frepper, I don't know about other networks but that's how it is on reddit, I think there are people who have my opinion but are afraid to say it because of fans, of course, I met Frepper fans there who normally accept such an opinion, but still there is a feeling that such a opinion cannot be told

Simply put, Ivy and Freckle are a couple that will eventually break up with each other unless there's an event between them in the comic that changes my opinion of this couple, but that's how I feel about Freckle for now. I didn't plan to express my opinion, but it happened that way, I hope you don't mind it

first and foremost, i don’t mind seeing someone express their opinion in my inbox! you and anyone else are free to do so, even if i may disagree. this blog’s entire existence was made for me to share my opinions ( and love! ) for lackadaisy, as well as engaging with other fans, because what else is the point of a fandom blog? and as far as i’m aware, this is unpopular opinion central! most of my thoughts aren’t exactly the ones with the most voice behind them i’ve found, so i welcome all manner of different views. every fan is entitled to their own perspectives and opinions, and should be allowed to share them as they please! but with that disclaimer out of the way, i’m more than willing to discuss frepper in its entirety.

for me, there’s little confusion i carry where it concerns this ship’s popularity amongst the fandom. freckle and ivy, if we are to strip them down to their bare essentials, are a rather stereotypically ‘cute’ relationship : people enjoy opposites ( see zibwick or vikdecai for example ) and there’s an endearing quality found in puppy love dynamics. seeing ivy wear the pants and drag a shy freckle around by his ankle makes for quality content in a way! think the ‘excuse me, but he asked for no pickles!’ meme … ivy and freckle very much fit that sort of mold, and it helps that most fans are too scared to ship them with other characters in the cast too, due to what they perceive to be a lack of options. thus, frepper is an extremely ‘safe’ ship! you cannot get in trouble for enjoying something that is not only canon, but is relatively adorable ; and so i don’t believe a lot of the fans are actually thinking too deeply about the likely endgame of it all. most don’t! it’s fun to ship, and that’s all they really need i think. it’s also very easy to dismiss ivy’s forwardness as a quirk of being a young girl who’s of her temperament, recklessly boycrazy although still carrying sweet intent. this behavior is easier to hand wave when neither ivy or freckle are experienced at the dating scene as well … freckle due to his extremely religious upbringing and hermit nature, and ivy because of viktor’s constant meddling, which would hold her back more than you’d think. with that said, i don’t think any of this is excessively complicated. some shippers are rather simple minded and do not care for details and characterization all too deeply. enjoying dynamics is, at its core, supposed to be fun -- which makes simple ships like frepper prime targets for a very vocal and tight knit fanbase. there are other things i could speculate about why these two may hit so pleasantly for others, like how there’s an underlying queer theme to it ( what with ivy being the pursuer and freckle the shy, blushing flower ) or that it’s tropey enough to hit the right spots for others … though it all boils back to mere speculation. perhaps they still have time to escape this gangster lifestyle and live happily ever after? and that appeals to the lackadaisy fans who still want some sort of happy ending? it’s all a combination of frepper being easy, i think, and containing two young cats who still haven’t done anything particularly ‘unforgivable’ yet action wise. this is a ship you can root for without an ounce of worry in your heart, and so on and so forth.

but although i understand why others are so vocal about them, i don’t exactly agree with fanon’s views either! while i heavily enjoy frepper, i enjoy them as they are, and that includes their looming flaws and inevitable tragedy. they are bound to break each other’s hearts a lot on their current path ; even if they were entirely perfect for one another, this lifestyle isn’t kind to anyone, meaning if they don’t separate, they could always be forced apart via bullets and such anyway. they are young and woefully inexperienced in a manner of things, the last thing they need is the stress of a rumrunner life driving their every action, you know? i know people see them getting out together, and that is likely on the table! i do see that in many ways, but i’m also of the opinion that ivy and freckle will diverge onto different paths at some point and temporarily call it quits. from where the comic currently stands and given my view on ivy’s arc, i see her growing disillusioned with where she is and the honor and fun she saw within it as a royal spectator will fade ; she will become wary, fearful, and her resilience will die … meanwhile freckle will embrace it, similar to his cousin, fully understanding what it is and what he’s getting into ( like rocky, again ) but being unable to leave his refuge. i know lots of people think freckle will leave the lackadaisy first, but given his old concepts and former title as one of mitzi’s ‘trouble boys’, i think he will become lost in the sauce for a myriad of reasons. frankly i enjoy that twist on their relationship! since i believe ivy’s character development will revolve around maturing, changing as time stretches forward, because her character is ever growing, what with her entire schtick being the fact she’s everything a 1920s girl was during those times. she embodies that unladylike youth and manipulative sweetness, so i’d imagine a lot of her path is falling from such naive thrill seeking and stumbling upon a harsh reality. she will mature, and the very thing that should make their relationship stronger will be what divides them indefinitely. everything they have is founded on this bloody, varnished soaked ground after all … they are young adults who are experiencing what closeness feels like outside of family or platonic friends for the first time, so naturally they will overindulge in their own amateur games ; find respite in the boogie and kiss like couples do on the silver screen, laugh about it, talk about everything and nothing at all … relish in each other’s warmth and stupidly loyal protection. i’m sure frepper will grow closer before any falling out, because as it stands, it’s one of the few things they have in such a scary situation that feels comforting and kind. they will impact each other in the fundamental ways first relationships do and, to move towards your biggest gripe, do things they’ll regret or allow things to happen to them that they’re not entirely okay with.

ivy is very forceful with freckle initially, albeit in her typical saturated way ; and i can see why that would be hard to parse! especially when freckle spends a majority of their first scenes together squirming away and hiding, trying to duck her affections and bolt for it. there is a lot of boundary crossing between them! but not in a necessarily malicious way … like most things with frepper, this circles back to their mutual inexperience and how, in a lot of ways, this is their first ‘serious’ romantic relationship ever. and it’s rather common for such firsts to involve gray areas, since neither party is entirely sure of what their own boundaries are just yet! while freckle did appear frightened by ivy at first, it’s important to note that tracy’s mentioned him having a flight response whenever girls flirt with him … he is prone to run away instinctively, which if you consider his extremely religious upbringing, isn’t exactly a surprise. nina would no doubt look down upon freckle engaging with girls his age due to what most girls his age are currently doing in the roaring 20s they’re living in. sneaking out and engaging in illegal activities, dancing in a way that would disgust most of the more traditional and older generation, casually engaging in any manner of sexual activity before marriage, etc etc. and this isn’t even listing freckle’s cagey nature due to an incident we know was bad enough to send rocky packing for years, and fundamentally changed freckle himself at such a young and impressionable age. he is … very troubled! and rather scared of himself and the world around him … at this stage in life, freckle is perpetually unable to make any progress towards anything he may want, and so i have little problem myself with ivy mostly taking the lead. when left to his own devices and allowed to choose outside of influence, freckle did in fact sneak out of his mother’s house to go to the lackadaisy, surely well aware that ivy’s intention had been romantically inclined. so, to me, he has always liked her ; perhaps found her cute, in a shallow way, saw her eccentric behavior as endearing and frightening in equal measure, and while he’s still wading into this whirlwind pool unsteady and shaken, he -- wouldn’t mind it if ivy pushed a little more, or moved him around to her ( and what she perceives to be, their ) liking. perhaps this dynamic is familiar enough to him that it becomes comforting, since rocky was very much the same way in their adolescence. tugging freckle around and pulling his tail for whatever rocky wanted them to do, with little care for whatever his baby cousin desired at the time, ignoring his protests and chasing him ; nobody’s at fault here either, kids are extremely self absorbed and this is a flaw they’ll usually mature past, and while ivy and freckle are adults during the comic, i don’t think ivy’s outgrown this linear view on things just yet. she is extremely entitled! she is used to being the apple of everyone’s eye at the speakeasy due to her jazz baby status as atlas may’s goddaughter, and this gangster connection excites and awes the ladies she attends classes with at her university too. ivy pepper is used to getting her way and this has only fueled her determined attitude, her ‘pull it up by the bootstraps’ mindset, and in many ways, this is something of a flaw for her. it’s not bad to be confident and headstrong, although when you add that into a dangerous mix of rumrunning and gunslinging, it may become a problem rather quickly. but i digress! point is, ivy and freckle are hardly at fault for the awkward way they handled the start of their relationship, when it’s so new and fresh to them both.

neither of them have boundaries at this moment, as they either have no clue what those are or simply haven’t realized they should set them. so, in turn, there are things that the other may do that could cause their partner discomfort … and it’s mostly done out of obliviousness and good intentions and your classic dose of intense affection. doesn’t mean it isn’t messed up to a degree, but i think it’s rather realistic, and is a hard truth that comes with many first relationships of that sort. sometimes you don’t know how to say ‘no,’ or you agree and regret agreeing later, or perhaps you simply don’t understand there’s certain things you aren’t ready for or genuinely just don’t like. again, it’s a very muddied area, and the two of them are vaguely navigating what is mostly foreign to them. they’re bound to mess up! so i ivy some slack here, and applaud tracy on the realistic writing more than anything usually. young love also happens to be a great device to use for inexperienced characters finding themselves, through the good and bad of their relationship, and frepper is all about that. maybe freckle will inevitably bring up how he feels like he would’ve preferred it had ivy asked him out properly, or gave him time to court her in a traditional fashion … and she will be surprised ( and a little wounded ) by this, since she had never considered it before … too used to her way of things to realize there’s another path they could take. i think this aspect of the relationship is important, and i can understand wishing that more frepper shippers would view it as such, or comment on it's morally gray nature without just calling it ‘cute’ and leaving it at that.

tldr : they will most certainly break up at some point, maybe even multiple times! tracy has said before that they both have some serious maturing to do if their relationship is to be long lasting, and i doubt that maturing will happen to them both at once … since they have different things to work on emotionally. but they will probably strongarm some major personal development within each other, as well as love one another with a fierceless abandon that most kids do. i could see them getting married, i could see them not, but i agree that if they were to be wed happily, they’d have significant hurdles to overcome. but personally, frepper is something i adore mostly due to the impact they’re bound to cause each other, and even if they are to separate and find someone new and more fitting, they’ll always remember one another -- perhaps fondly, and sadly, and with some anger. a time they’d like to forget, but a person they’d like to remember … which is my cup of tea overall! they much more interest me as they presently are anyway, where i can fiddle around with their budding romance and friendship bonding. and as lackadaisy grows in popularity, i do hope there’s more frepper fans who see their complexity and flaws and explore them with all of it in mind.

anyway! i hope this was coherent, and that it was obvious that i agreed with you for the most part. i haven’t really talked about frepper before with anyone so many of these thoughts sort of burst out of me! and i feel like i have more to elaborate upon, but for the sake of simplicity i kept this short. oh well! surely this is enjoyable and informative regardless.

[todayisafridaynight]

i’m pretty surprised that you can be in a fandom without really checking the tags regularly for new content or discussions that’s pretty impressive

ive got twitter for that and twitter has shown me enough as is

[queerstudiesnatural]

seeing teenage gays out and about, holding hands and laughing and everything is SO healing. each new sighting puts a new bandaid on my inner queer child