#((feels nice to know this fandom is still kicking))

[galacticlamps]

actually ascension needs its own post since that's the one with the most details to speculate over and im starved for soho talk so i will talk to myself if need be

First the cover again, because I kinda can't get over it:

my only thing is that I had been hoping we might get Lizbeth on a cover again since she's never been on one of the boxsets before, despite being the 2nd person credited on all 4 of them (even if that's just alphabetical, still, she's the only one of the four main characters who never makes the cover)

But letting that go...

I know we already kinda knew the brief for this one but damn I didn't expect it to go quite this hard. Maybe that's just because the Parasite & Ashenden covers were (comparatively) similarish to each other and I was so pleased with Unbegotten's, and then got so used to it as the placeholder for Ascension while they kept postponing it, I wasn't expecting anything this colorful or detailed or with what I can't help but register as Fun New Outfits even though these are still like, pretty damn basic as far as costumes go. Still, it's a different vibe from everyone in suits and trenchcoats on every cover, technically. (Oh the woes of being an audio fan such that two characters owning sweaters actually does qualify as new information)

On top of just being visually delightful though, I know we knew religion was gonna be a fairly big part of this one, but I didn't actually expect to get quite this much of it - though I'm glad of it for a number of reasons. The BF twitter already made the ineffable joke so I don't have to, but also yeah I did very much spend all of season 2 episode 4 of good omens half convinced Samuel Barnett & Dervla Kirwan were about to pop up around any given corner (if you will go around being gay supernatural and horrible at your messy bureaucratic jobs in midcentury soho then I'm sorry, this is where my brain's gonna go) - so, fuel to that fire. But in terms of actual important things, at least one of my Soho wishes looks to be being granted because we have a Rev Edward Folgate on the cast list, which must mean we're finally meeting Norton's father, even if his mother & brother don't appear (which they could, technically, I've definitely seen BF not list all the doublings on their cast tabs before). Religion, domesticity, and the nuclear family are all things that absolutely fascinate me when it comes to Norton's character, so getting any amount of story involving his father & his church is something I've been actively hoping for for a long time now.

(I will say I'm a tiny bit bummed Saffron Coomber isn't on the cast list to play Mia again, but I kinda figured she wasn't going to be since Greg Austin's Armitage, who's making his first recurring appearance after originating in Unbegotten, was listed ever since the boxset was announced - presumably if she was also returning, that would've been handled in the same way. But since Unbegotten ended with Lizbeth and Mia going on a date, I still held out hope. Who knows though, maybe things did go well for them and Lizbeth just has a better work/life balance than Norton so she can date someone without them getting dragged into every scifi plot. I know that's not a very common accomplishment for any Torchwood agent, but a gal can hope)

At this point I know I'm completely in the realm of speculation & even wishful thinking, but I'm really really hoping we get some more clues as to Norton's overall timeline in this one, and I have a feeling that even if there's nothing as direct as dates given, the events of a plot like this one are going to heavily influence my personal interpretation of it.

To say that life & death are major themes for the soho crew feels wildly reductive, but even by Torchwood's standards and taking into account its origins as a piece of media with Jack Harkness & his newfound immortality at the heart of it, the living/dead status of this bunch has always been fantastically up in the air to me. Obviously Ghost Mission introduced Norton as kind of a ghost before revealing more obvious ghostly characters later on to which the title might have been referring, but his being from the past did beg the question of his survival into Torchwood's present era all the same, which Outbreak later alludes to much more directly, and his habit of showing up via hologram in multiple stories only further obfuscates any certainty we might have about where & when he definitely can be said to be alive and well. Then you've got Lizbeth and Gideon both being effectively 'brought back to life' via paradoxes that prevented them ever having died in the first place. Again, they are very very far from being the only Torcwhood characters this happens to (for a sprawling EU, it's really rather impressive how often & in how many different ways Torchwood as a whole manages to circle back to being about like. chaotic undead queers at the end of every day. though I suppose that consistency is part of why I keep falling in love with its different iterations again and again). That's without even getting into the question of Norton's dubious fate in God Among Us - and I say dubious because I know some people take that to be his ultimate death, but I personally think that reading something as vague as that as having any kind of finality rather goes against the spirit of this whole world/series, not just because I want him to live. (There are obviously other ways to make him survive/reappear, but I don't see this as a River Song scenario where we can safely assume one of his earlier-released adventures had to happen at the end of his personal timeline). But wherever God Among Us falls for him, he does very much meet God in it - or at least, a god, since the sentinel in Unbegotten is also described as a god of sorts, and even if he doesn't ultimately have the status of the god Jacqueline King is playing there, Unbegotten is still full to bursting with ghosts/undead/came back wrong/echo characters to continue underscoring that life/afterlife theme.

So all things considered, even allowing for the fact that we know Norton's twin hobbies are lying about himself and abusing time travel to suit his own ends/ever-shifting alliances, I find it difficult to believe we could get through a whole 6-part boxset about religion & death without something providing some kind of compelling evidence about where this adventure fits in among his other run-ins with apocalypses and gods and ghosts and dead-but-still-here characters/creatures, so I'm very much looking forward to any further exploration on that front.

And lastly, and least intellectually, I really want to know what the hell 20th-century Torchwood's obsession with Reginalds is. Reading through the cast list, I had to do two separate doubletakes over the character 'Sir Reginald Peebles' - firstly, because I had Reginald Rigsby on the brain, this being Soho (and the other Troughton brother being so active on BF's releases for this same month) - and secondly, because reading this in conjunction with the announcement for the July monthly adventure in which the new main Torchwood guy of the 20s is apparently called Sir Reginald Dellafield, there was a brief moment where I took that monthly release to be a tie-in with Ascension. I don't expect it to be, but damn. was it really so popular a name?

anyways, catch me thinking about those stained glass windows for the next couple months I guess (and knowing Torchwood Soho, for a long long time after it comes out as well lol)

[streetlamp-amber]

never ending night

bruce wayne x femwife!reader

word count: 1.7k | divider by @saradika | requests are open!

CW: pregnancy, pure fluff NOTES: hello hi i’m ailís and i’ve been meaning to start a blog where i can post some one shots that i’ve been thinking of as a way to motivate myself to finally write down my ideas so this is it. i’ll be double posting my stuff on ao3 (which you can find in my bio) and will eventually make a masterlist as well as a navigation post with a list of fandoms/characters i write for. also, english isn’t my first language.

It was close to three in the morning when Bruce finally joined you in bed after a long night of patrolling and fighting bottom of the barrel criminals all night. He showered in the bathroom on the first floor of the manor to avoid making too much noise and waking you up, but when he finally walked in your shared bedroom, you were already awake, sitting up against the headboard.

“Darling, what are you doing still up?” Bruce asked you as he reached his side of the bed.

The room was dark par for the moonlight filtering through the gap between the curtains, meaning your husband had yet to notice the state you were in.

“Dick had a nightmare,” you answered, voice barely above a whisper due to how tired you were. “It took me two hours to get him to fall back asleep and when I finally came back here, this little one started kickboxing me and keeping me awake for another hour,” you continued rubbing your round belly in hopes of soothing your baby to finally catch some sleep.

“I’m sorry I wasn't here to help,” Bruce apologised, planting a kiss on your temple as he held you close to his body.

“It’s alright, Gotham needs you,” you dismissed, not at all angry.

“Still, you’re six months pregnant. You’re growing our child inside your body, you need all the rest you can get,” he softly argued. “I would've come home earlier but all the amateur criminals came out tonight.”

“Bruce, it’s fine,” you brought your hand up to his cheek and he leaned his head into your touch. “You’ve already been cutting your patrols shorter since we found out about the baby. As long as you keep coming back home to us, alive, then I’m not mad.”

Not knowing what to say – his gratefulness for having someone so accepting of his duty as Batman was almost overwhelming, even after all those years – Bruce kissed your palm while staring at you with the same look full of love that he has been sporting since the first time he met you six years ago.

“How’d I get so lucky to fall in love with the most understanding and selfless person I know?” He asked while grabbing your hand on his cheek, wrapping his fingers around yours and squeezing them gently.

“Now that’s a lie,” you rebutted, a loving smile on your lips, lowering your joined hands on the bed. “You’re more selfless than I am. You’re the most selfless man in the world.”

“Let’s not start this never ending argument again,” Bruce chuckled, now his turn to hold your face as he brought you in for a kiss.

You happily sighed against his lips, the feeling of home that overtook you every time you tasted them was a nice welcome in this interminable night. But the kiss was cut short as you felt your baby kick again and you let your head fall back as you groaned.

“She’s still kicking?” Bruce asked you, he couldn't see the movements under your skin due to the darkness of the room and your hand on your belly.

“We don't know it's a she,” you reminded him instead of answering. You had both decided to wait until the birth to know the gender.

“And I’m telling you, I know it's a girl,” your husband repeated for what could be the hundredth time.

You also secretly hoped it was a girl, but Dick really wanted a little brother. Bruce and you were still in the process of warming him up to the idea of a little sister and it was slowly starting to work.

“As long as she doesn't come in my room,” your eight year old son had said last week, with his arms crossed over his chest and a pout on his lips.

“I doubt she’ll be doing that for the first few years, chum,” Bruce reassured him, fighting off a slightly amused grin.

“And the baby will have its own room with its own toys,” you added.

“Will I still be able to play with the baby?” Dick asked after a moment, uncrossing his arms and a hopeful look filling up his blue eyes.

“Of course you will, bubs,” you said, your fingers threading through his black hair that fell over his forehead.

“But only with her toys at first, some of yours are not suited for a baby,” Bruce pointed out, ever the overprotective father.

Bruce had lowered himself down under the blanket so he could be laying head levelled with your belly, his hand now replacing yours over the bump.

“Hey trouble,” he whispered to your child and the baby kicked again, making him smile lovingly at the movement he felt under his hand. “You shouldn't be awake this late at night, you know.”

“You're one to talk,” you commented, tone almost reprimanding.

“She doesn't know that,” Bruce looked up at you as he defended himself before his gaze fell back on your belly. “Mommy is really tired,” he continued talking to your baby, his hand now rubbing soothingly over your round stomach, “and she needs her rest to do all the work so you can come out all healthy and beautiful. Well, you're definitely gonna be the most beautiful baby if you end up looking like your mother, but that's not the point.”

You smiled at the cheesy comment and your fingers found their place in Bruce’s hair, brushing through it and nails occasionally scratching his scalp.

“Your brother Dick can't wait for you to come around,” he carried on. “Said he will teach you all sorts of acrobatic tricks once you know how to walk. And he asked Alfred if he could help paint the nursery when we finally decide on a colour.”

“And I keep telling you we should do soft green,” you argued.

“I’m not changing my mind from primrose pink,” he told you with a sly grin.

“The room won’t be pink, even if it’s a girl. And that’s final,” you firmly said. Your husband will not be winning this one argument, no sir.

Bruce sighed, rolling his eyes before focusing back on your belly. “I hope you’re not as stubborn as your mother,” he whispered to the baby, as if he was having a private conversation with them and that you weren’t there. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s one of the many reasons why I fell in love with her, but I won’t be able to say no to you even when I have to, so it would save me a lot of reprimanding from Mommy if you’re not as tenacious as her.”

You smiled to yourself as you continued listening to your husband talk to your unborn child as you threaded your fingers through his hair, enjoying the softness it had after a shower. Bruce usually gelled his hair to appear more professional when he was working in the day, and then it would get all mixed up with his sweat under his cowl when he was working as Batman. When he would come back to you after the day was over, you would refuse to touch his hair until he had showered, the texture of the gel and sweat too gross on your fingers for you to ignore.

As Bruce continued talking to your baby, his voice started lulling the two of you to sleep. The baby hadn’t kicked in over almost ten minutes now, and the peace you had waited for so long to arrive made you aware of how heavy your eyelids were. You slowly lowered yourself down the bed, getting in a comfortable position with Bruce’s help where you could finally lay your head on your pillow and it didn’t take long for sleep to catch up on you.

At the sound of your soft, barely audible snores, Bruce turned his head away from your bump to find you asleep with your free hand raised next to your head on your pillow, the other one still tangled in his hair.

He planted a soft kiss on the exposed skin of your belly, eyes closed as he took a moment to absorb the fact that a baby that was half you and half him would be joining your world in a little more than three months. Bruce wasn't known to cry, the only time you ever saw him cry was as you walked down the aisle at your wedding, but tonight, a lonesome tear rolled down his cheek and fell on your stomach, where your child was growing, because Bruce never believed he would ever get to experience again the amount of love he hadn't felt since he was eight years old.

As he observed you, sleeping soundly with his child coming to life inside you, after you comforted Dick back to sleep, Bruce, for a moment, felt overwhelmed by all the love in his life. When he became Batman, he crossed out the idea of ever having a family (other than Alfred), of settling down with someone he loved and who loved him back.

But somehow, the universe put you on his path, as a miracle or a guardian angel or simply as an anchor to life outside of Batman, he didn't know. You walked into his home, into his life, to remind him that he, Bruce Wayne, was also deserving of love, of family, of happiness. Then Dick came along, rather unexpectedly but still no less welcomed, and Bruce started entertaining the idea of having children with you. He definitely wasn't opposed to it, but it wasn't something he wanted to jump right into, especially with Dick having just entered your lives. You were both young, he in his early thirties and you in your late twenties, you could allow yourselves a couple of years just the three of you (four with Alfred) before expanding the family.

So it was rather shocking when two months after you and Bruce had officially adopted Dick that you found out you were pregnant. It both took you by surprise but after talking through it together, you couldn't be happier. And the two of you haven't stopped being happy about this new little addition ever since.

Bruce rose up from his position next to your belly, your limp hand fell from his head as he did so, and he laid on the bed next to you. He delicately kissed your forehead, then your nose before falling back on his pillow and whispered “I love you” as he curled around your body, his hand resting on your belly as he fell asleep.

[hello-universe-lovers]

Sooooo...I was going on a nolstagia binge of BBB and saw this on my dash.

One thing lead to another, so have my rendition of your Runo. This legit saved me from art block so thank you

i go without finishing a drawing for months and then i churn out a runo drawing in a day it is what it is

[griffonsgrove]

omg hello!! I saw you post those vox headcanons and wow I was literally kicking my feet and giggling LOL. I also saw you take requests right now! (at least that’s what it said in your rules) and I wanted to request something : D

could I request general alastor headcanons with a GN! Reader please ? :D

Thank you!

General Dating Headcanons | Alastor

a/n: Of course my dear!! I love how Alastor is portrayed in the series, he’s easily one of my favorite characters! I’ve been wanting to do these for quite a bit, so thank you for the request!

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Wordcount: 1991

Cw: Hazbin Spoilers, minor violence, mentions of death, murder

(PLATONIC):

Ah so you managed to capture the attention of the infamous Radio Demon? You should be honored he even considers you worth his time! Not most demons have that luxury, they never live long enough to see.

Al strikes me as the kind of guy who knows everyone, he’s very observant and has eyes everywhere (his shadow friends extend throughout the entirety of the pride ring). He’s got connections in just about anything. He’s bound to have at least seen you once.

That being said, he views other sinners as inferior to him, if you don't have any power, he doesn't really see you as much of a threat (let’s be honest even if you did, he still wouldn't feel threatened)

He’s quite intrigued when he sees a frail little thing like you walk through the hotel doors. You're here on your own free will, seeking redemption? Oh, this will be quite entertaining.

You’re well aware of who he is, having been in hell for quite some time, even before his 7 yearlong disappearance, you knew to be wary in his presence.

It often left you being timid or skittish around him at first.

The deer demon had a knack for popping up at the most inconvenient of times, out of nowhere it seems (perks of being able to shadow travel). He would scare the daylights out of you nearly every time. Whether it was intentional or not, it always got a good laugh out of him.

And that smile…He was always smiling, you can't ever recall a moment where he wasn't, not even a falter. It's definitely an intimidation tactic you think. After all, you're never fully dressed without one!~

Despite this, he’s a charmer. He has this flare about him that oozes confidence whenever he speaks with you, to anyone really. He’s able to talk his way into and out of anything. One of the many perks of being a showman. Alastor is witty, charming and entertaining to say the least. Life is never dull with him around.

And if you happen to be from the same time period?? It’ll only want him to be around you even more! Finally, someone he can relate to in this cesspool.

This man is quite the chatterbox. He looooves to reminisce about the good ol’ days, always talking about how things were in his radio days. He could talk for literal hours and not break a sweat. You’ll often have to politely interject when he rambles on for too long, not that he minds.

Did I mention he can cook too?? Really well, surprisingly. He claims he learned from his dearest mother. He had to put a name to her famous Jambalaya recipe! When you tried it for the first time your socks were nearly blown right off from how much cayenne pepper he put into it. He likes a little spice.

He's!! Always!! Humming!! The man loves to sing, he often finds himself absentmindedly humming old tunes from the 20’s as he goes about his day. Whether he’s out for a stroll, enjoying a nice cup of tea, or running around the hotel, he’s humming.

This has been stated before, but Alastor is not big on physical touch from others unless he's the one initiating it. There have been many times where he’s pulled you into a little dance or twirl while he explains something. It never fails to surprise you each time.

He’ll often use his microphone staff to push or touch something, more specifically someone. He doesn't like to touch sinners that often, God knows where they’ve been. You’ve seen him whack Angel upside the head with it before, the spider tried getting a little too close for comfort. But for you he’ll make an exception.

Very well groomed!! He puts a lot of effort into his appearance, and cares about how he projects himself to the public eye. His hair is always neatly styled to perfection, shoes shined, and is always dressed to the nines. I mean did you see how mad he got when Pentious ripped a part of his coat off?

As the two of you begin to spend some more time together, you find yourself often having little meetups, the both of you would chat, share a cup of tea and just enjoy each other’s company. He liked to sit on the patio, he had a little table, and everything set up for you two.

Alastor makes sure to keep an eye on you regularly. He may have his shadow sneak around and stalk you while you're out. He’ll use the excuse that ‘Hell is a dangerous place!’, He can't have some low-life sinner trying to harm you, that would make him a terrible friend!

Undeniably has a soft spot for you that he’ll never admit aloud, he genuinely enjoys your company and likes having someone around that will humor him and listen to his stories. Grandpa.

Overall, Al is quite a good friend to have, you feel like you can confide in him at any point, he’s surprisingly a wonderful listener. The more time you spend together only strengthens your little friendship. Even to the point where you both will grow to have a mutual respect for each other. He initially scared you at first, given his reputation, but underneath all the ruthless chaos is a true gentleman.

(ROMANTIC):

My man is sooo conflicted at first, He’ll spend hours in his den thinking about his feelings. (We’ve all seen the inside of his room, literally half of it is a swamp). The scenery can only soothe him so much as he contemplates on what to do.

This is probably where you will begin to less and less of him for a time being as he works out his inner turmoil.

But, once he finally comes to terms with these undeniable feelings, he decides to confront you privately, away from any prying eyes. Ahem Angel…

Very old-fashioned, this is where he will properly ask to court you. 

You’ll never know this but he was actually kind of nervous, he was worried you’d reject his offer, but imagine to his surprise when you said yes!! He kind of felt giddy.

Congratulations! You now have a cannibalistic deer overlord as your boyfriend

He’s such a gentleman, I literally cannot say it enough, the man was raised right and he respects you! 

You literally never have to open a door with him around. He holds your chair out for you, always walks on the outer side of the sidewalk, pays for every meal and is constantly giving you compliments left and right. And they say chivalry is dead.

Alastor loves to gift flowers to you. Every few weeks or so he’ll give you a new bouquet. They're different each time, some have a meaning while others he simply thought you’d enjoy. You have a special place in your room where you keep them.

Now that you’re in a relationship, the two of you are basically joined at the hip. Wherever you are, Alastor is not far behind. He doesn't want to admit it but the overlord is kind of clingy. He doesn't like being too far from you.

If there’s ever a reason he has to be away from you, he’ll often have a few of his little imp dolls watch after you. You always thought they were cute little fellas anyways.

The both of you aren't exactly private about your relationship, but at the same time you’re not screaming it out from the rooftops either. Alastor is well aware of the dangers you could possibly face due to his status. He’s made a lot of enemies in his time, and doesn't want to see you get hurt on his behalf.

That being said though, no demon in their right mind would try to threaten you.

God forbid they touch you either. They’d be ripped in half before they could even get another word out. 

He's fiercely protective over you. He tries to play it off as nonchalantly as possible, but you know he cares about you immensely, it’s rather sweet really.

Now about physical affection. Things will go very slowly in the beginning, as said before he's fine with things as long as he's the one initiating it. If you two are out for a stroll you’ll have your arm gently looped with his as you walk down the chipped sidewalks. You’ll have to be extremely patient with him, he’s not used to this “love” and “affection”

If you’re ever having a bad day however, he’ll slip out of his comfort zone for you, and allow you to hold onto him for as long as you please, in the privacy of your own room of course.

One of his favorite things to do with you, is to slow dance. There's something so intimate and special about it. It could be late into the evening, when everyone else had gone to their respective rooms for the night, If you listen closely though, you’ll hear the soft hum of music coming from Alastor’s den, he has you in his arms, the both of you gently sway in a slow waltz across the room to the quiet love songs emitting from his radio. It’s here that you truly savor these private moments with him.

Speaking of music, Al loves to sing to you. Oftentimes it may be a ballad or love song, and if you join in with him? He’ll fall for you even more. 

Cooking! He loves to whip up all his favorite dishes just for you, oftentimes you’ll help him in the kitchen, even if it’s the smallest thing. It's become an annual thing you two like to do together. He makes sure that you get only the best meat that this side of hell can provide.

He’ll often call you a mix of different pet names, here's a few of his favorites: Cher, Darling, Beloved, Dearest, Love, Mon Amour, Doll

Which btw on the topic of meat, Al is canonically a cannibal, he’ll often eat demon meat in his meals, and will have you try it at least once.

Admittedly has gotten slightly jealous of his own shadow. The mischievous thing was always trying to steal your attention away from him, oftentimes it would work, you would always give in and humor him, saying that ‘Even his shadow needed some loving too!’. With a strained smile, Alastor shoots a glare at the inky mass of himself, who just looks at him with a smug grin.

Will have you meet Rosie at least once. She’s one of his other closest friends, and a real sweetheart. At first she comes off as really scary and intimidating. but the more you get to know her, and she's for certain that you wont hurt her friend, she’s much more friendlier. 

You two actually bond together somewhat, having little chats about Alastor occasionally, or about her business.

It’s safe to say that this man would kill hundreds if not thousands for you. You have him wrapped around your little finger. If you ever have someone bothering you, they might as well already be dead, because this man will hunt them down like prey. And eat them too.

Honestly, Alastor as a lover is nothing short of wholesome. He’s so attentive and caring when it comes to you. Which is so refreshing to see, especially coming from one of hell’s most feared overlords. Things will most likely start of slow, but if you’re patient with him, all the hard work will be rewarded tenfold. He had initially thought the Princess of Hell’s Hotel was one of the biggest jokes of the century, but what he wasn't expecting was you to be one of the best things to come out of it. You both were cast down to suffer an eternal damnation in hell, but at least now you can endure it together <3.

[urno1luv]

request: g!p yunjin x subby bratty 6th member reader + i kinda made you guys hate each other in this... what's better than enemies to lovers heh.. let me know if i missed something anon!!

i was gooning while writing this... i thought i should let yall know🥹

cw: degradation (bitch, slut), u give unnie a bj then she fucks you, she slaps you, she bites your shoulder wc: 2.06k

You’re halfway onto the dorm kitchen counter when Yunjin walks in.

Of courseeee, of course it’s her and she has to walk in that exact moment.

You hear the sigh before she even speaks, and you know exactly what face she’s making without turning around, that pinched expression, all jaw tension and narrowed eyes, like she’s two seconds away from filing a formal complaint to management. “You’re seriously doing this again?”

You hum, unbothered, letting your legs dangle off the edge. “Good evening to you too, unnie.”

“I’m not in the mood, Y/n.”

“You never are. That’s part of your charm.”

Yunjin walks past you, snatches a protein shake out of the fridge, and shuts the door with a little more force than necessary. You catch the way her shoulder tenses, and for some reason, it makes you smile.

“I need the almond milk,” you say sweetly.

She doesn’t even look at you. “Use your legs.”

“I’m short.”

“Well isn't that tragic.”

You tilt your head, faking innocence. “But you’re so tall and sooooo helpful!! Wouldn’t it just make your day to do something nice for your teammate?”

She finally turns then, slow, deliberate, and levels you with that look. That sharp, unimpressed, I’m this close to drop-kicking you look.

“Why do you always start with me?” she asks, tone flat.

“Because it’s fun.”

Yunjin laughs. It’s humorless, barely more than an exhale. “You’re exhausting.”

“And yet, here you are, still talking to me.”

There’s a pause, just a second too long, where neither of you says anything. The air feels tight and charged, definitely not in a good way, not in a soft, flirty way either. It’s sharp, bristling.

You hop off the counter slowly, closing the gap between you with deliberate steps. Close enough that you can see the twitch in her jaw. “You’re not gonna get rid of me by pretending to hate me, y’know.”

She scoffs. “I’m not pretending.”

You smile, too wide to be sincere. “Sure, unnie.”

────୨ৎ────

You’ve been in LE SSERAFIM for just nearly a year, a late addition to the tight knit group, and already half the fandom thinks you and Yunjin want to kill each other.

The other half thinks you’re secretly hooking up behind closed doors.

You’re not, (unfortunately for the two of you.)

The reality is more complicated. She’s sharp, you’re sharp. She hates how loud you are, you hate how self-righteous she is. You poke, she snaps. It’s a cycle, an annoying routine.

It’s also weirdly addictive.

She’s the only one who doesn’t fold when you start acting up. The others laugh you off or play along. Yunjin just glares and tells you to shut up, and well, you kind of like it.

Not in a nice way… more in a grab her face mid-argument and see if she flinches kind of way.

────୨ৎ────

During practice, you “accidentally” switch your water bottle with hers.

She doesn’t notice until she takes a sip and gags, and you make a stank face while turned away because why is she gagging…?!

“Seriously, Y/n?” she glares.

“Oh no,” you deadpan. “Was that my bottle?”

She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “You’re disgusting.”

You smile with teeth, cackling. “Want another sip, unnie?”

Chaewon calls a five-minute break before someone gets slapped.

────୨ৎ────

Later, after everyone’s gone quiet in the dorm, you creep into the kitchen again. It's 1:23 a.m. You’re not even hungry. You just like the silence.

Well, until she walks in, of course. Again.

“Let me guess,” you say, not even looking at her. “You sensed I was having a peaceful moment and came to ruin it.”

Yunjin doesn’t rise to the bait. Just grabs a glass and fills it from the sink.

“You’ve got issues,” she mutters.

You lean against the counter, arms crossed, eyes half-lidded. “Takes one to know one, unnie.”

“You think everything’s a game.”

You push off the counter, slowly approaching her. “And you hate that you can’t stop playing.”

She turns toward you then. Her eyes are dark, unreadable. There’s a pause, again, that silence that stretches just a little too long.

“You’re lucky you’re in the group,” she says, voice low. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t deal with you.”

You raise a brow. “Funny. You deal with me an awful lot for someone who supposedly can’t stand me.”

Her jaw clenches. “You think I enjoy this?”

“I think you enjoy being mad at me,” you murmur, stepping just close enough that your shoulder brushes hers. “Feels better than admitting you don’t know what to do with me.”

Yunjin holds your gaze. Doesn’t move. Doesn’t flinch. “Don’t flatter yourself, Y/n,” she says coldly. And yet, she doesn’t move away.

You stare at each other in the dark kitchen for another beat, both too stubborn to look away first.

Eventually, you smile again, slow, dangerous smile. “Goodnight, unnie.”

You brush past her on your way out, deliberately letting your hand graze her waist as you go, leaving her quiet. She doesn’t say a word.

But you know she won’t stop thinking about it, so you decide to trigger her one last time, and you shouldn't have done that (you should’ve done it earlier if you knew she was gonna snap the way she did).

────୨ৎ────

You plan something fun, something that you believe Yunjin would get angry at. You lean just a little too close to the male stylist, laughing at some dumb joke he made, placing a hand on his arm as you giggle like you don’t see the way Yunjin is watching you from across the dressing room.

You definitely see it, heat rising in your lower stomach at the way she’s staring at you.

She’s pretending to scroll on her phone, one leg crossed over the other, but you know her too well now. That sharp flick of her eyes. The way her fingers are drumming on the armrest like she’s holding herself back from throwing the nearest object. Her jaw clenched so hard it’s practically carved from stone.

You press your tongue into your cheek to hide your grin.

A little more. Just a little more, and she would snap. You ask the stylist to fix your shirt, practically pushing your tits in his face when—

“Y/n,” she snaps, sharp as glass. You glance over innocently. “Yes, unnie?”

“Get over here.”

The tone makes the stylist step away like he’s just been caught doing something illegal. You take your time walking over, all slow steps and sugar-sweet smiles, because if she’s gonna yell, you at least want to earn it.

“What’s up?” you ask, blinking like you didn’t just flirt with someone in her line of sight for five minutes straight.

Yunjin stands. It's like her anger gave her another few inches, because she looked taller (and hotter). And right now? Pissed.

She grabs your wrist and yanks you down the hallway, past stylists and makeup artists and assistants who all look away politely, as if they didn’t just witness the sexual equivalent of a bomb ticking.

“Yunjin,” you sing under your breath, “people are gonna think we’re sneaking off to make out.”

She doesn’t say anything.

She doesn’t have to, because the look in her eyes is louder than anything she could possibly say.

She pulls you into an empty dressing room and shuts the door with a slam. You have exactly two seconds to say something before she’s pushing you up against the wall, both hands braced on either side of your head.

The tension doesn’t crack. It shatters.

“Y/n? Really? Are you trying to piss me off?” she demands, voice low, shaking with something just under the surface.

You blink up at her, lips twitching. “Mmm. Maybe.”

Her eyes narrow. “You think it’s funny?”

“I think you being this mad over a stylist fixing my clothes and doing HIS JOB… is very funny.”

Her hands slam the wall. You flinch, but not in fear, but in thrill. “You don’t get it,” she says, voice rough. “You never get it.”

“Then explain it to me.” Yunjin stares you down, chest rising and falling too fast. Her hand moves, cups your jaw, roughly, like she’s thinking about shaking you. Or maybe kissing you. Or both.

“You walk around like everyone wants you,” she hisses. “You act like nothing touches you. Like none of this means anything.”

You smirk. “And yet here you are, pressed up against me, heavily breathing like you want to eat me or something.”

“I hate you, Y/n,” she spits, and you only laugh at that comment. “Liar.”

She freezes. You lean up, closing the last inch of space between you. Your voice drops to a whisper.

“So this is what it takes to make you touch me?” Her hand tightens on your jaw. “Yunjin—” And then she’s kissing you, hardly, messily and angrily.

It’s not romantic, it's not gentle. It’s the kind of kiss you’ve both been too proud to admit you wanted, all teeth and heat and months of shoved-down feelings exploding at once.

You gasp against her mouth, and she uses it to slide her tongue against yours like she’s punishing you for every smug smile, every flirtatious eye-roll, every whispered “unnie” that drove her insane.

“Get on your knees,” Yunjin commands. “Since your attitude is so fucking awful, you won't be able to walk straight for a week.”

She unzips her jeans while standing in front of you, her dick hard and throbbing. “Open wide,” she commands. You open your mouth, and she pushes your head down onto her shaft. She grabs your hair, holding you in place as she thrusts into your mouth.

“Fuck, your mouth feels so good,” Yunjin groans. She pulls your head down further, fucking your throat. You gag and choke, saliva mixed with precum running down the side of your neck, but she doesn't let up. “That’s it, take it all,” she moans, “you were made for my cock.”

She pulls out and slaps your face hard. “Now it's your turn,” she says, running a hand through her hair. You got up, and Yunjin pushed you onto your tummy over the table, kicking your legs open.

You look up at her, tears running down the side of your face, squealing when she pushes her knee into your pussy, grinding against it, before replacing the sensation with her fingers. “Yunjin… a-ahh… unnie…”

The unnie in question only laughs, grabbing your hair and yanking your head back, to watch you as she fucked her fingers into you, dick getting harder as your moans spilled out of your mouth uncontrollably.

“You're such a dirty slut,” she said into your ear, her breath hitting you. “If you wanted to fuck me, you couldve just asked instead of trying to constantly make my life hell.”

Yunjin pushes your face into the dressing table, her dick rubbing against your ass. “I'm going to ruin your tight little pussy,” she groaned. “You're mine now.”

She thrusts into you from behind, her hips slapping against your ass. “Fuck, you're so tight,” she groans. “I could fuck you all day.” She pulls your hair harder, using it as a handle to fuck you deeper. “Take it, you little slut. Take my cock.”

Her hand reaches around to massage your clit roughly, the other hand leaving your hair to squeeze your nipple. The combined feelings made you throw your head back, arching into Yunjin further. “Cum for me, Y/n,” your older member gasps. “I want to… hah, feel you… fuck..” her thrusts are faster now, harder, and more sloppy. She leaned in closer to bite your shoulder, muffling her moans. “Now, bitch, cum now.”

You can't hold back any longer. You cum hard, your pussy clenching around her shaft. Yunjin follows soon after, emptying herself inside you. She pulls out and leans down, her lips meeting yours hungrily.

You break the kiss first, barely, forehead against hers, breathless and smiling. “Still hate me?” you whisper breathlessly, and “innocently”.

“Don’t push it,” she mutters. You reach for her hand and press it flat against your chest. “Too late.”

Yunjin curses under her breath, then pulls you in again, this time, slower.

────୨ৎ────

later that night, in your shared notes app draft:

> things that get yunjin to kiss/fuck you:

being a brat

talking to literally any man

calling her unnie in that voice

letting her lose control.

add more later (🤭)

[kaidoslastbraincell]

Could you do a part 2 to Abby saja and the reader from the gym🙈 I soo want to see what their relationship is like

been meaning to make a second part to this from the beginning, but apparently, I only get fanfic motivation when I'm at work lmao...hope you enjoy!

KPDH MASTERLIST HERE

okay so maybe Abby isn't as bad as you initially thought...dare you even say you...like him? fluff + himbo + crack!!! let me know if you want me to write gym!reader meeting the other Sajas <3

pairings: abby saja x reader

It had been two weeks of bumping into Abby at the gym before you finally caved and gave him your number. He didn't seem dangerous; in fact, he reminded you of an overexcited puppy, but you could never be too sure. The way his eyes sparkled and a grin lit up his face was worth it, though. You'd settled into a routine. Every time you were at the gym, he'd be there (no, you didn't question how he always seemed to know; yes, you probably should have), and after working out together, you'd go for smoothies. It was easy. It was nice. Once he had a means to contact you, he started texting you every day. Wishing you a good morning. Asking how you slept. Asking how your day was. Wishing you goodnight. That became routine, too. Could he still be annoying? ABSolutely. Did you mind? Not really.

Weeks of shared gym sessions and daily texts turned into him showing up at your apartment unannounced with snacks, bringing hot soup and medicine when you got sick, and posting pictures so ambiguous on his social media accounts that the whole fandom was now wondering who the hell you were. You didn't care for the drama of the idol world, but you did care for Abby. You'd tried to convince yourself that your feelings for the pink-haired menace were purely platonic...tried and failed. Miserably. There was no denying it anymore. Especially not after you'd woken up one morning, in his shirt, and with his arm curled around your waist. It's not like anything had happened... His clothes were comfy, and you'd fallen asleep watching a movie on your bed. Friends cuddle and sleep together and wear each other's clothes, right? What friends don't do is pull you closer when you try to move, press lazy kisses against your neck, and slide their ridiculously large hands under your (their) shirt...

"Abby..." you mumbled sleepily, "what are we doing?"

He growled softly, which you thought was odd, but didn't question it. Too early in the morning for his shenanigans. His arms tightened around you, and his fingers traced your bare stomach.

"Sleeping? What else would we be doing at this hour?"

You rolled your eyes. He'd pay for the sass later.

"Okay genius...let me rephrase that. What are we? We're snuggling like a fucking married couple!"

He sat up slightly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and looking at you like you'd just kicked his grandma.

"We are a couple..."

You gaped. Had he been thinking that this whole time? Your flabbers had been gasted. Shimbers tivered.

"Did you ever ask me to be your girlfriend?"

"Did I have to? I thought it was obvious that we were together?"

"Give me strength..." you pinched the bridge of your nose.

"Do you like me?" he asked, voice earnest.

"Well...yeah...unfortunately."

"Hey!"

He pouted. You grinned. He sighed.

"And I like you. A lot. Ergo...a couple."

"Fine," you groaned, falling face-first back into your pillow and pulling the covers over your head. You didn't have the energy to deal with his stupidity right now, and you weren't bothered about grand gestures either. You wanted to be with him, so you welcomed the simplicity of the situation...even if it felt like it came out of nowhere.

He smirked, getting up with a stretch (no, you definitely didn't peek at his muscles over the sheets...nope). You thought you'd be left in peace, but before he left the room, he smacked your ass through the duvet.

"Get up. We're gonna meet the boys!"

[cburambles]

Depending the timeline, degree of closeness & knowing how he goes re-assure Pamela & Judd in the caves while showing confusion & not knowing that he's feeling empathy, has his first line in TKAA being about how Elena feels & catering to her need ( while standing around despite his leg pain before going back to sit in his wheelchair) & how he gets angry at Evan for not looking strong & confident in front of Kyrie ( which is I think is a mix of toxic masculinity/projection)

One of Rufus main problem is how his suppressed empathy is also linked to the way he walks to the beat of his own drums & how insensitive he can be in gen. He doesn't pay attention how Tseng feels when he talks about Aerith in 7R & TKAA, he almost get killed in CoS by one of Kylegate's men as he made him feel belittled. However you also see a caring & more respectful side slowly him resurging too when he start to get attached or when the problem is put in front of him or someone is willing to stand up to him.

So with someone like Elena, who doesn't have a filter & is rather strong-willed & vocal about how she feels or the situation they end up?

I guess he would panic a bit while trying to act confident but fumble a bit due to years of isolation, problem solving side & how he usually tend to behave in a rather buisness like manner. But that's also what he might need to grow. Sometime people need to be sad for the sake to feel better & you can only just be there for them while they go thru that. I also imagine the goofiness resulting of his first awkward attempts to be there for her.

Heck I can even see him admiring her for it because yo, you let yourself show that vulnerable side of you without fear to be belittled for it or yelled at for it & you just bounce back from it?It would also mean a lot to Elena too, knowing how her own emotionnally neglectful family tend to behave toward her for any flaws she might show.

Added to that Rufus was never shown rejecting his own emotions or those of people around him too & a part of him seemingly knows people have to be comforted. It would be fun to see him putting in the work to learn to be & how to be emotionnally avalaible on a personnal level.

I'm using Elena for this example because it seems most fitting but how does Rufus deal with a woman who suddenly starts crying? Like, Elena seems like the type who just goes and goes and pushes herself until she's so tired she bursts out crying. But is completely fine five minutes later and ready to kick ass again (learning ur limits comes with age, its ok).

Does he panic? Leave? Get disgusted and demand she stop?

[amelee23]

Say yes | Park Jongseong (Jay)

Genre: Romance, Fluff (very sappy)

Pairing: Jay x gender neutral reader

Word count: 727

Warnings: a kiss or two, established relationship, super sappy, tooth rooting fluff, my usual poetic nonsense

A/N: Hello Engene! I very recently joined the fandom, so it's nice to join you! I'm Lee, I write super poetic fanfics cuz words control me not the other way around lol. Let me know if you like it!

"Come 'ere." He gently asked, patting his legs to invite you over. There were other free chairs in the kitchen, and yet he insisted you sit on his lap instead.

You walk up to him and playfully feign confusion. "Should I sit to the side, or face to face?" You tease, and you can see the small dimples form as a smile warms up his face.

"However you want, my love."

"Hmm." You hum. "But what about you? What would be your choice?" He knows you are playing with him, and yet he isn't shy or scared to walk exactly into your trap. He quite likes it, actually.

"I think face to face would be nicest."

You smile at him and gently sit down on his thighs. He is warm, and welcoming, sunshine in his eyes and the sunset sparkling on his lips. He admires you softly, gently, quietly and warmly. You find purchase on his shoulders, and he doesn't move, yet it feels as though he is yearning in your general direction, as if he wants to be closer.

"May I hold you?" He asks for consent and you happily oblige.

"Yes." You reply with a smile.

"And may I kiss your cheek?"

"Yes." You agree again, and he steals a quick kiss from you before dragging you closer to his torso.

He holds you by the waist, you hold him by the shoulders, and for a while the world stops. The planet stops spinning, apples become an immortal fruit, and clouds and thunders no longer are rivals in the sky.

He caressed your waist with his thumb and you play with the hairs at the back of his neck as you gaze into each other's eyes. It's comfortable, and it's soft, and you both have sappy thoughts running through your minds that you are too afraid to tell each other about. (Even though they would be completely obvious to see for any third party.)

You blink once, and you blink twice, and suddenly you can hear your food begin to boil on the stove. You're back to the real world, but he's still there, so it's not that bad.

"You're so beautiful." He says softly, almost absentmindedly, as if he was accidentally voicing out intimate thoughts from his mind.

"Me?" You laugh. "Are you sure you don't have the wrong person?"

"Ey, don't be silly." He says, his tone unrushed and calm. His hands move up to caress your face, and he's almost squishing your cheeks as he looks at you in admiration. "You are extremely beautiful to me."

"But there are other people out there who are prettier than me... dress better than me, are better put together..." He holds his gaze steady as he answers you, and his calm tone never wavers.

"Why would I care about other people? I don't hold you to the standard of other people."

"What standard do you hold me to, then? You ask with curiosity, wondering exactly where he could go with such a statement. (Or what kind of witty boyfriend save he could pull.)

"I hold you to the standard of you. On a scale of one to ten, how yourself are you being today? That's how it goes. If it's a ten, then I'm happy. If the number is low, then I need to work harder to make you feel more comfortable." You break into a fit of giggles. If you weren't on his lap, you would be squealing and kicking your feet from how disgusting sweet he was being. "I just want you to be yourself."

"That's the most you answer you could have given me." You tell him, and he smirks at you as stars begin to dance in his eyes.

"Does that mean that you also want me to be me?" He wiggles his eyebrows at you, and you don't know if you want to kiss him silly or slap him on the chest.

"Can I kiss you?" You ask, and you read the anticipation on his face.

"Yes."

You cradle his face, lean in and capture his heavenly lips with yours. It's a short kiss, but one that says a lot. One that isn't just an offering of love, but also a silent plea for everlasting affection.

"Yes." You tell him, in order to respond to his unanswered question. "Always yes."

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

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Thank you for being here and have a great day!

[jasonswhitetuftofhair]

“Come at me, Baby”

Characters/Pairings : Jason Todd (Red Hood) x female!reader.

Synopsis : Jason and Reader spar and after training things get steamy filthy.

Content Warnings : SMUT. Slow burn. Poor writing. Lots of plot. Training/Sparring (reader learns combat). Curse words. Pet names. Overstimulation. Multiple orgasms. Protected sex. Size kink (barely noticeable). Oral (fem rec.). Fingering. Dry humping. Use of object as toy (Jason uses a muscle massage gun on you). Vaginal intercourse. Light bondage (Jason ties your hands w/ resistance bands). Reader insert (sorry). Aftercare.

Fandom : DC, Batman.

Word Count : 5202

Author’s Notes : First fic I’ve written. Like ever. Also, this is a repost; I originally posted this for the first time in October 23’ but I deleted it in December 23’ due to insecurity.

This week had been tiring. Multiple meetings, a lab breakout scare, a few late night patrols all on top of studying the material you’d been given had started to add up. All you wanted was to retire for the night, go to your room and take a nice, relaxing, long, hot bath. Gorge yourself with junk food and put your show on, and then sleep like the dead. But no, tonight called for an evening training session with your training instructor.

Jason. Jason Todd. Before you had entered the gym, you weren't sure if you would be up to train tonight. But watching him enter the double doors with his hot-as-hell all black tactical pants, skin tight athletic t-shirt and combat boot ensemble quickly made you reconsider. As if it was hard.

Ever since Bruce had finally gotten Jason to accept his proposal of conducting training sessions with everybody, you’ve been feeling like a sitting duck. You had been trying to hide your feelings from the older vigilante for a while now. A while as in since you first arrived at the manor. Nearly eight months had you been stumbling around whenever he was near, barely making eye contact and feeling like an idiot because of him. And you had been succeeding, too! Barely, but still. He didn't know anything and now with your new arrangement, how could he not pick up on the vibes you were sending out? It was only a matter of time before your feelings were compromised and you were left heartbroken and feeling like a fool, your friendship with him long gone.

It wasn't so bad, though. You had always been good at adapting and Jason wasn't necessarily bad on the eyes. It was kind of fun, too. His little dry humored remarks, shared inside jokes and just…him, made him good company. After all, he was your friend. You haven't known him long, but it still felt like you’ve known him forever. But that was the problem. Your friendship with him was too much of a treasure to have it be risked just because of a little crush. You’d rather be plagued by the overwhelming melancholy of your predicament than not have him at all. If the only way you could allow yourself to indulge in the feel of his hands on your body was when he was training you in combat, then that was something you were okay with settling for.

“Earth to Y/N. Um hellooooo, you there?” Jason’s equally teasing and concerned words pulled you from your trance you hadn't even realized you’d fallen into.

Your embarrassment quickly appeared on your face and didn't go unnoticed by him. “Yes! Sorry, I’m here.” Having been snapped out of your thoughts, you noticed that Jason had you held against him mid-air. You threw a punch at him, but he of course dodged it so you did what you first thought next. You tried to kick him in his side but he quickly grabbed your ankle and gently but strongly twisted it so that your body changed direction. Before you could lose balance and fall he grabbed your other thigh and caught your body against his, holding you to him. You didn't react at all, though, and his initial thought was that he crossed a line he didn't know of and did something to upset you. He called your name and you didn't answer the first time so he paused the lesson and brought you back to him.

He was a little worried, honestly. He knew you to be like this, often catching you staring off into space and likely daydreaming or stuck in deep thought. It was your expression, though. The mild sorrow, a little bit of adoration shining in those pretty eyes he loved so much, too.

“You sure? We can take a break if you need it,” he offers, gently smiling at you, “is everything okay? I didn't hurt you, did I?” he asks worriedly. Gazing into his eyes, your heart almost swells up. He looks so genuine, like it would hurt him if he hurt you and you let yourself pretend it's for other reasons. “Yes, I’m fine, promise. Just have a headache s’all.” It's enough to relax him just the slightest but he doesn't believe you. Your body language is just not convincing enough. He finally puts you down and lets his eyes skim all over you. He tells himself it's to check for signs of discontent or injury, but he knows he can't lie to himself. Youre just too fucking beautiful. He shakes himself out of it before the blood rushes south and gets back to the lesson.

“So. You really need to get out of the habit of kicking. It can't be your first instinct, sweetheart. You're exposing an entire limb to the enemy and you're not skilled enough yet to counter whatever it is they plan on doing. I know it's hard, but you need to really start implementing your upper body strength,” he explains to you, occasionally letting his fingers linger on your skin when showing you what the enemy could potentially do to you. You truly appreciate how gentle and accommodating he is when it comes to teaching you. You’ve seen him train with the others and sometimes his harsh tone is enough to make you jump even when his words are directed to someone else. He’s been so patient with you and the thought of him going out of his way to train your aversion-to-fighting self makes your heart flutter. You nod along with him, letting him know you haven't gone off to La La Land again.

“Alright. Come at me, honey,” he orders while positioning himself in the default defense stance. Legs strong, but ready to move. Arms by his side ready to catch and balance. Core strong and taut, chest puffed. Eyes on you, just as he likes it. He finds it adorable how clueless your little expression is. Eyes wandering all over the place, arms trying to find a good way to support yourself and legs waddling to their correct position. Like a baby deer learning how to walk. He hears your little words of encouragement to yourself and watches your eyes, watching the gears turn in your brain. While his focus is stuck on your pretty face, he doesn't notice your left hand curling behind you while you spin yourself around, pressing your back to his front. He grunts and catches your right hand before it can land around his bicep. You quickly move your feet backward and jump behind him, putting all your strength into kicking his back hamstring, but he’s already several steps ahead of you. He turns around before your foot can land and grabs your ankle, destabilizing your legs and grabbing your wrists, holding them tight in his right hand.

This of course leads his mind to other things, things that would involve this very position. You curl your leg around his stretched leg and twist your body around, landing you on top of him. Your legs straddling his abdomen and palms resting on his waist. He doesn't mind at all, though and senses a pause in your movement. He notices your tired expression, your flushed face and neck, the sweat on your hairline, neck and brow. You jump, as if just now realizing the position you had him in. You move to sit next to him and he moves into a sitting position, no longer back to floor. You flash him a cheeky grin, happy with yourself for winning this time.

“Did I do good?” you ask him excitedly and he chuckles, your pretty little smile having caused his heart to skip a beat. ‘Did I do good?’. That phrase would be on repeat in his brain for a little while, he could tell. The way you seeked his approval caused his groin to stir and he stood up, quick to distract himself.

“You did. I’m proud, that was much better. We’re gonna focus on your upper torso, now, okay?” He guides you to stand and places his hands on either sides of your shoulders, guiding you to stand in front of him. “I'm gonna throw at you, and you're going to block them.” He playfully wiggles his fist in front of you and you grab onto it giggling. Oh how he adores that sound. He sneakily aims and his fist appears next to your collarbone, you move your body out of the way. He does it again, this time it comes next to your left shoulder. You grab his wrist with both hands and block it. He doesn't miss the way you needed both hands to wrap around his wrist. He moves again, fist to the right of your face. Your eyes widen and he shushes you and you relax. You both know he wouldn't make a move to successfully cause you harm.

This goes on and on for what seems like forever. Your stamina has dwindled down a while ago and he can tell how tired you are. He thinks about cutting training early, but for his own selfish reasons he decides against it. He doesn't want your time together to end. Still, you're barely putting in any effort and you're certainly not trying to hide it from your instructor. His eyes haven't left you since the session began and he was very pleased with all the intel he’s received. Your short, panted breaths. The way your cheeks and neck flushed with that pretty shade of pink that suited you so well. Your wide eyes, how they seemed to sparkle under the annoyingly bright lights of the gym. How they seemed to water whenever he stared into them for too long. Your wobbling lip whenever you got a little too into it. How you went out of your way to put both of your hands on him, regardless of if it was beneficial or not. The way you didn't even move out of the way of his punches anymore. You just watched the muscles of his arms flex and wished they were around you instead.

“You gotta put in some more effort for me, princess. I know you can do it,” he tells you, cooing at the way you whine at him, silently wishing he would end training early. He chuckles. “C’mon, block em’, sweetheart.” You roll your eyes and try to muster up whatever strength left in your exhausted body. Your hands meet his and successfully block a hit. He doesn't forget how you rolled your eyes, though. What he wouldn't do to have you bent over his lap for that. He finishes with the punches and leads you to the equipment.

He stands you in front of the power rack looking thing, gripping your waist and holding you up, waiting for you to grab onto the handles on top. “Chin-ups. Fifteen of em’,” he tells you and you groan. He knows you hate chin ups. “Tsk, tsk. C’mon, princess. Don't make it twenty. These help with your shoulder and bicep strength. Use an underhand grip, palms facing you.” You sigh and get into position, starting what he told you to do. You made sure to be as dramatic as possible, though; you were too tired to keep the brat in you at bay. Jason, on the other hand, doesnt try to hide the way he is blatantly staring at your ass, thighs and waist. He burns the image in his mind and moves closer to you, holding onto your waist to make you feel secure.

You huff and sigh out, hoping he’ll give into you. Throughout the entirety of the session, his hands have been on you. His breath has been on your neck. The feel of his body on yours. Him in your proximity. It was frustrating. Having him so close, but far away. Little did you know he felt the same. His hands move to rub encouraging circles into your hips and you whimper out loud, to your embarrassment. He doesn't even try to hide his smirk, though. Once the exercises are done, he holds onto you, purposefully moving his big hands to rest on your ass, bringing you down. You’re done with his teasing and turn around, pressing your palms flat to his chest and keeping him at bay. You signal with your eyes that you’re not in the mood for the teasing and he coos, holding your face between his two hands. “Is there something you want, baby?” you whine and cry out for him trying to hide your face into his chest but he only lifts your chin back up so he can see you. “Come on, sweetheart, if you want something you have to ask for it.” “hmph! I want you to stop teasing me, Jason!” He smiles wickedly and lets you go. “Training is over,” he states simply and you sigh contentedly, walking to the locker room.

Before you can open it, though, Jason’s hand wraps around your wrist and you turn to him. “You didn't actually think I was done with you, did you?” he asks but doesn't wait for an answer. He opens the door to the locker room and guides you into it before locking the door. In an instant you're pressed against the door, cold wood on your back, and Jason’s mouth on yours. It's not much of a fight for dominance, his tongue having beat yours instantly. It feels heavenly. Not just the feel of his tongue in your mouth, tasting yours, but finally all this pent up tension leaving your body. You sigh into the kiss, Jason’s hand comes up behind your neck to grab the hair at the base and you mewl against him.

You were losing oxygen and his kisses traveled from your lips, to your chin, to your jaw, the sweet spot on your neck. His big hands wrapped tightly around your waist and the feel of his open-mouthed kisses on your neck has your jaw slack and breathing uneven. He smiles at the way you look like a puppy with your open mouth and panting, practically drooling.

“This okay, sweetheart?”

You were practically soaking through your panties by now and the tenderness of his words and low pitch of his voice certainly wasn't helping. You nod a yes and throw your head back at the feel of his harsh sucking on your neck and collarbone. He growls and spanks your bottom, “I need words, Y/N,” he commands and you whine out loud yet again. “Yes! Please, need you, Jason,” you tell him and that’s all he needs to hear.

Carrying the two of you, he picks you up and holds you against him. Your legs wrapped against his waist and he sits down on a bench, you still on his lap. His kisses don't stop and the feel is euphoric. His hands haven't stopped roaming your body. The feel of his big hands groping at your soft, supple flesh through the clothing separating you from him combined with just…him, was damn near enough to make you go crazy. You were tugging at his hair and pressing your face against the crook of his neck, desperate to smell his pheromones and your soft lips pressing kisses of your own against his neck had him hard against you already. When you felt his hardness against your tummy you gasped and tugged on his hair a tad bit harder and he moaned against you. Little curses left his mouth and you were seeing stars. Nothing had barely even happened and you were already this close to being admitted into Arkham Asylum.

Suddenly his hands paused their movements and his tone became one of seriousness. He grabbed your chin and forced your face towards his. Your pretty little glossed over eyes shining up into his had his breath hitch and for a split second he forgot what he needed to do. He could see the curiosity on your face, your teeth tugging your lower lip and he had to avert his eyes.

“Fuck, Y/N. I need to tell you something. I-I like you, Y/N. And not just in a friendship way. I understand—” he started but you cut him off, lurching towards him even more and grabbing his head between your hands, kissing him with a force you didn't know you could possess. He could feel you smile into the kiss and he let you have control this time. Not for long, though. He grabbed your hair into his fist and you gasped. “I-I like you, too, Jason. Have for a while now,” you mumbled against him and he grabbed your plump bottom with both hands, bringing your body flush with his. This only fueled the fire, though; his rock hard cock straining against his pants feeling your core against him had him clenching his jaw and closing his eyes, trying to control himself a little bit.

“I like you a lot, Jason. A lot a lot,” you whimpered against his lips and he smiled. You could see the genuinity in his eyes and the softness in his smile. He placed a gentle kiss against your forehead and then one on your nose and finally one on your lips. “I'm glad, sweetheart. Very glad,” and with that he grabbed your hips and shifted your legs a little bit. He forcedly rocked your clothed cunt against his hardness and your eyes closed, head tossed back. It was almost too much, too fucking much. You had been teased all night long and with all this foreplay you weren't sure if you would last. You tried to paw his hands off of your hips and stop your movement, but you just weren't strong enough. His devilish grin staring up at you, his pretty girl, had you whining and grow the ache in your pussy. “Stop, ‘s too much, stop, please, Jay,” you begged against him and all he could do was smile. “Stop? You want me to stop? But I’m not even doing anything, baby,” he teased. He knew he was teasing the damnit out of you. Even as you begged for mercy, there you were, still riding his clothed dick. You couldn't help but follow his lead though, your hips couldn't help but relish in the feeling of his hands tight on them, guiding you back and forth. Even if you wanted to you weren't sure if you could stop. God, it felt so good. Nothing you had ever felt like before. His hands on your hips and his mouth abusing your sensitive skin. The hardness of him grinding directly onto your clit. It was all so amazing.

He could tell you were close. He’s never had you before but he already knew all your tells. Your panting and labored breaths. The way you couldn't keep your eyes open. The stuttering of your hip movement. How you tried to get closer to him, even though you were flush to him. Gasps and whimpers leaving your mouth. Your hands tried to paw his hands away yet again. Think you’d learn the first time. His mouth went right back to sucking marks into your skin and he cooed at you. “C’mon, babygirl. You can do it. I know you need it, sweetheart. Just let go and cum for me,” he softly commanded. Hips following his words, your pace quickened and he ground you down onto him. His own hips jerked up and his cock spanked your core. Within moments the climax unraveled and you let out a screech. The white hot bliss greeted you and the power of your orgasm could be felt in every nerve ending of your body. You shook for a good thirty seconds and your vision went blurry. You slumped against him tiredly and he chuckled. His soothing hands rubbing circles into your back and sweet nothings helped calm you down and your high rode out. You lazily started unbuckling his belt and he grabbed your wrists, stopping you. Oh how you liked the feel of his hands grabbing you like that. “Tsk, tsk, Princess. ‘M not done with you yet.”

In an instant he was untying your shoe laces, kicking them off your feet and forcing your pants down to your ankles. His hands ripped your panties off and you were exposed. The brisk air was biting against your wet cunt and you gasped slightly. He raised you up against the lockers and wrapped your legs around his head, hands planted firmly on your ass holding you midair. The smell of your arousal and the previous orgasm dripping everywhere had him painfully hard. “Tell me if it's too much, baby, and I’ll stop, okay?” You whispered a ‘yes’ and he finally satiated his desire to have your cunt in his mouth. His mouth went straight for your clit and you shrieked at the feeling. His light little sucks on the nub had you rolling your eyes back and jerking your hips. Continuous moans leaving your mouth only encouraging him. He licked a stripe straight up and down the length of your pussy and his own moans left him. You tasted fucking delicious. Like everything he had imagined. All those times he imagined how you’d feel and he was finally fucking seeing for himself. He felt like a kid on goddamn Christmas, his hands tightening his grip on your ass. You were sure there’d be handprints in the morning. His thumb went to rub rough circles on your little bundle of nerves while he thrust his tongue in and out of your weeping hole. You started to cry out for him, hands pushing against his head and fingers gripping his hair attempting to pull him off of your pussy. Absolute the fuck not. He looked to his right and to his luck there was a set of resistance training bands hanging from a hook. He smirked and looked up at your fucked out face and he chuckled to himself. Holding you up with one hand, he reached to his side and grabbed a cable band. You watched his movement and saw what he was doing and your eyes widened. The kinky bitch. “C’mon, princess. Give em to me. Since you don't know how to keep your hands to yourself, I have to take em away from you,” he teased playfully condescending. He tied your hands together behind your back with the workout gear and he hummed satisfied with himself before resuming his meal. He was fucking merciless with his tongue and you soon learned your crush was a borderline sadist. His mouth wrapped around your clit and his sucks were harsh and unforgiving. Like a man starved, he ate you like you were the last source of hope for his soul. His finger started fucking you, too. He started with one but your drenched hole quickly accommodated for more. Soon enough you were on the brink of another orgasm and he forced it from you roughly. “Again, sweetness. You can cum again, cant you? Give me another.”

The orgasm brought tears to your eyes and you wouldn't stop shaking. Your thighs were quaking around his head and your back arched off of the cool metal of the lockers you were propped against. Toes curling, head thrown back, continuous moans and screams leaving your lips. Your second climax of the night arrived and you screamed into the locker room, little sobs leaving your ruined body. He let you ride out your orgasm against his tongue until he was fully content and gently brought you down, placing one last kiss against your lower body. He sucked his fingers that were just shoved inside you, not breaking eye contact with your tired eyes. He placed his forehead against your own and wiped away your tears.

“You okay, baby? Was that too much?” he asked worriedly. He didnt want to fuck up his first time with you and feared he lost control of himself. You smiled tiredly against him and shook your head lightly. “‘M okay, promise. Jus’ need you, Jason.” He smiled and shuffled you towards the mirror and sinks. He took off his shirt and laid it on the edge of one of the sinks he was about to bend you over. You realized it was for your comfort and smiled up at him, feeling your heart swell up. Even when he was about to absolutely obliterate your cunt, he still managed to be a gentleman. He unbuckled his pants and finally his cock sprung up. He sighed, finally feeling relief. He watched you stare at his size through the mirror, seeing your eyes widen and your teeth tug on your lip. He lightly guided you into the position he wanted you in and you sighed contently, feeling comforted by the thought you would finally be fucked by him. Watching him pull a condom out of nowhere and rip it open with his teeth had you on the edge of your seat. He sheathed himself with it and made sure everything was ready. “Ya’ ready for me, sweetheart?” he asked while lining his tip up with your entrance, smearing your wetness all around his head. You gasped and shouted a little “yes” and he chuckled, sinking in. Even with two orgasms loosening your little cunt up for him, he was still a little much to adjust to. Both of your heads tossed back in sync and you closed your eyes, sighing for him. You worked your hips against him, wanting to feel more. He grunted and grabbed you by your hair, bringing your head up to look in the mirror. “Keep your eyes up here, baby.”

Once you were fully adjusted to his size, he slid almost all the way out and then re-entered your warm, wet heat. It felt so good. He set a pace and it was so heavenly. You could cry with how good it felt. You both needed this, needed this release for all the pent up frustrations in your lives. Sounds of flesh smacking against flesh and his grunts and your little sighs filled the room and the smell of sex was heavy in the air. His hands were on either side of your hips and his eyes met yours in the mirror. It was fucking exotic. Seeing your eyes perfectly, watching the pleasure unravel on your face. Pleasure he was giving you. His pace quickened a hair and you gasped. Your hips moved backwards against him, in time with his thrusts. You felt him deeper and the perfect rhythm of his cock repeatedly hitting that spot inside you almost hypnotized you. He smirked a little bit as he watched your fucked out face in the mirror. No thoughts, head empty. It was clear only pleasure was what you felt.

You didn't even notice him reaching above the both of you and retrieving something from the cabinet. Only when you heard the familiar buzzing noise did you wake up from the transe you were in and see what he had in the mirror. A muscle massage gun. For a moment you were a little confused, why was he hurt? Then you felt the big spherical head of the gun against your clit and your eyes rolled to the back of your head for the umpth time that night. He smiled and cooed at you from above. Yeah, he was definitely a sadist. He angled the gun a little bit to the left, wanting to overstimulate your abused little button. His thrusts hadnt ended and it was too fucking much. His pace was faster and harder and deeper now and had you both moaning up a storm. Your hands were finding themselves gripped onto the sink counter and you were struggling to keep your eyes open and in the mirror. He moved the massage gun setting higher and kept it firm against you. Your thighs were shaking and you were glad you were being held against the sink by him. You weren't sure you would be able to keep yourself up if you weren't.

“C’mon, pretty girl. Give me one more, please. I know you can. Cum for me, sweetheart.” You closed your eyes, feeling bliss about to erupt in you again. He quickly corrected you, though. His hand not being used to hold the machine to your clit came up to your throat, squeezing lightly on the sides. Not enough to cause genuine pain or prevent oxygen into your blood, just enough to give you that lightheadedness and in an instant you came on his cock. Your final orgasm was so intense and pleasurable—not surprisingly—and it lasted nearly thirty seconds. He removed the massage gun and returned both hands to your waist. His brutal thrusts as he chased his own orgasm helped you ride it all out. That blissful feeling that lasted longer than your orgasm did. All the stress leaving your body. Finally his sputtering hips stilled as he emptied his hot load into the condom and you whined, half wishing he was emptying himself into your wet little cunt instead. One day.

You both sighed and felt content again. You were sated and had finally gotten what you wanted. His loving palm rubbing circles into your lower belly, soothing you. He peppered light kisses on your skin and slowly slid out of your heat. He turned you around and kissed your forehead. All this loving kissing of his was making you wanna cry, it felt so good. Not just to be fucked right by him, but to have him, too. He was yours, now. And you were finally his. He grabbed your face between his palms and gazed lovingly into your eyes. “You okay, baby? Was that good? I didn't hurt you did I?” You smiled softly and nodded, “Yes, Jay. I'm perfect. You were amazing,” you reassured him with a blush.

He picked you up and sat you on the edge of the counter and got a washcloth from a basket, wetting it under the sink. He wiped the sweat and cum off your body and gave a kiss to each spot after it was clean. He helped dress you and by the time he was carrying you making his way to your room in the manor it was late. He opened your door and locked it behind him, leading you both to your attached bathroom. He undressed you again and turned on the shower. He lightly coaxed you in, seeing as you were so drowsy from all the night’s activities. He undressed himself and got in, lathering your body wash on a loofah and cleaning you. He wanted to make sure his baby was clean and cozy and content. When he was done washing you, he washed himself and enjoyed smelling like you a little too much. He carried you out of the shower and dried you off, clothing you in jammies and then put on some clothes you had stolen from him a while back.

He held you in his arms and you two cuddled each other all night long. You were his now and he couldn't be happier.

[jadeactuallysucks]

Idc what people say I loved seeing him a terrorist. He’s exactly how I would’ve imagined someone outside of his perspective seeing him

Also doing research on Azrael Angel of Death I can’t tell if he’s supposed to be a fallen Angel or just an Angel but I don’t know religion that well

More stuff I wanna say

With all of you chosen defenders out there saying it was dark who killed mitsi, nahhh we need A train Chosen, I’m calling him over during valentines. Ruin some relationships. Including yours. How is it not a surprise he kills people?He’s quite literally made to be a weapon with all the powers and violent tendencies.

And he was absolutely at fault for making dark a terrorist too no complaint about it. Very hedonistic ideology in which the two of them could do whatever they wanted. In which the world was their sandbox. Up to interpretation

Obviously I view chosen, especially my version of him, different than others. Some of you sickos are treating him nicely!!!!

Low-key mitsi didn’t need to be in the story at all. Just tweak a bit, and also the box would’ve been a lot more callous, instead of agent and victim hating chosen for killing their fridged gf, I would’ve loved the more controversial morals of victim hurting chosen for whatever justification he wanted to come up with. And like there’s too much of a pattern with killing off characters for the sake of plot. I think dark is a good exception cause he was a rabid dog and needed to be put down sorry dark lovers also not sorry cry

I liked that ambiguity, I know most people like stuff spelled out for them with backstories but I like mysteries cause that’s how fanart and fics can be made. Some stuff does need to be explained like how victim escaped and founded rocketcorp which I get.

Oh yeah agent 😛😛😛😛 smash smash smash I see why victim is on the bisexual dance floor he’s amazing. And I don’t need merc backstories, I can just guess he recruited work buddies or just buddies

First part and terrorism parts my favourite scenes, can’t wait for Ava 12 to make or break my interest haha. The box will forever remain my favourite episode the glaze is real

Oh my god victim getting tortured during the first scene. By far the best part (except chosen and dark) in the episode. Kicking and giggling seeing him get revived after being unsaved. I feel like it kinda one ups Chosen’s trauma so I definitely hope that stupid shit gets it worse than victim. Honestly this is the stuff I want left out. I want to imagine the pain he went through rather than see it. Cause even after that he still forgives his tormentor like a dog crawling back to its owner

Uhhh also I have a big complaint about women (sorry women) I don’t like the stereotypes. I don’t need to know they’re a women by the colour pink or long hair. But this is me screaming at a wall cause I watch the same thing kids watch and the main audience is children. I need more characters like blue. Where you can’t tell if they’re a girl or not and you don’t need to care cause they’ll be taking performance enhancing drugs either way

These were all made in the moment so yk agree to disagree. I can’t get myself to hate the episode like how other people manage to do. I guess it’s just cause I stuck around for a year to see this. And I’m sticking around 3 MORE SEASONS BABY

Also like this is a good day for multi fandom me. Al of the stuff I watch is getting new stuff. Like omg Ava, then walten files, then interloper and digital circus and prolly more but I can’t count as you can tell I can only count to four

[hypernova-writes]

Part of Your World [Ch.1]

Chapter one: Am I dreaming?

Pairings: OT9 X Reader.

Synopsis: After moving into your grandparents old home, you catch up with some friends and play some Tf2 before bed...only to wake up and find the nine mercenaries in your home...

a/n: I saw a thing that asked for more reverse isekai tf2 fics and luckily I had this one prepared as my second series to go alongside the Crown Jewel one! Hope you guys enjoy!

“Nova. Please you’re making it worse,”

“Sorry!..I mean at least you have alot of room to yourself..”

You huff softly as you place the boxes in your hands down. Your friend Nova was helping you move all your things into your grandparents home. The duo decided to up and move and gave you the option to move into the home.

A home with everything paid for, looks nice and spacious, in this economy?

Oh hell yeah you were taking it.

The two of you just finished setting down the last box down in your bedroom, Nova smiles at you before stepping back.

“Well, Do you need anymore help setting up, or do you got it from here boss?”

You glance around before looking back at her, “Ahh nah I think I got it from here Nov! I’ll call you later and we can hop on the game!”

Nova nods before she reaches forward to hug you before turning and leaving. “See ya Y/n!”

“Bye Bye! Talk to you later!” You respond as you wave to your friend as she leave out of your new home.

You close your room door afterwards and sighs as you plop down on the bed, you looked over to your pc and the small posters you managed to get up while Nova was still here.

The two of you met from playing Team Fortress 2 and became quick friends, you were already well versed in the fandom, the posters you had up were a few fanarts made by some of your friends and one you drew yourself of Scout.

You move to sit up and move over to your PC, you loaded up discord to send a message to Nova that you were ready to play.

-Hey Nov you ready?⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

-FUCK YEEAAA I WAS BORN READY- cough cough uhh..i mean of course! (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

You giggle at your friend before you loaded up steam and placed your headphones on your head. You hum as you waited for the loading screen to come on and decided you would play at whoever was on your screen when you loaded in.

And today it was Scout!

-“Ready to go run in and die?”

-“PLEASE! Are you going scout too?”

When the two of you loaded into the match you could already tell this was going to be one of those long nights where the two of you goof around and not take anything seriously.

You two were even joined by two of your other friends and ended up just running around smacking people with the holy mackerel, not even caring that your teams were horribly losing.

This went on until around 12am before you eventually could feel the tiredness kicking in and you yawned a bit too loud into your mic.

“Oop, Y/n is on the train to sleepy time junction.”

"Shut up Nova…”

“Damn somebody eepy,”

“The missile is eepy and needy to sleepy.”

You rolled you eyes playfully before deciding that was it game for today and leaning back in your chain. “Alright guys, I’ll talk to you tomorrow!”

“Night N/n!”

“Nighty night!”

|“See ya!”

You hummed softly as you got up and moved over to your bed, not bothering to turn off your PC, knowing you had it set to go off on it’s own.

You turned down the screen brightness and climbed into your bed, placing your phone on the charger and finally settling down into bed.

“She’s hot aint she?”

“Ya know Scout, You might be right, she is a doll..”

“Don’t tell me we are actually agreeing with this idiot now?..”

“Mhm mhph!”

“Pyro’s right! We outta take a chance,”

“Right, Right, I vant out of zhis damn box! Besides..I want to see what kind of heart she has~”

“..Doctor..human heart different from what you give us. She may be fragile..”

“IF SHE IS FRAGILE WE WILL HAVE TO TURN HER INTO A PROPER WARRIOR.”

“Aye, Solly. Doubt the lass wants to wake up at 6am to the sound of a horn.”

The computer screen starts to morph and change, the lights flashing on Y/N’s sleeping body, as one by one, quietly the men start to materialize in her bedroom.

“Woah..I wonder what year this is…?”

“From the clock on the wall, I think its the year 2025.”

“That’s 57 years. You idiots brought me 57 years in the future,”

“Vell, first of all Spy. in her world ve are fictional characters.”

“Oi! That’s us on the wall over there!” Demoman moves over and points to the posters.

“Is that how they all see us? And why in the sam hills are our hands so big?”

“And why in the bloody hell is Scout here so much?”

Scout chuckles as he runs a hand through his short hair. “Seems like dollface over here has class~, need i remind you she played me last night with her friends?”

Spy rolled his eyes. “Yea, and kept dying. Halting our progress with stupid games.”

Medic was already hovering over Y/n tilting his head as he looked down at her, “My My, she’s such a heavy sleeper! You vould think she vould hear 9 grown adults in her room..” 

Heavy looks around her room, “Seems like she moved, Maybe that is why little woman is tired.” He picks up one of the boxes and opens it, seeing plushies, before reaching in and grabbing a little bird one dressed like him. 

He turns it over. “...Little..Pootis?”

The other mercs look through the boxes, all seeing merch of various types of them, posters, figures, plushies and buttons.

Spy lifts one of the Spy crab plushies up and tilts his head. “Seems like she’s a fan. You picked the right one Scout.”

“You complimenting me Frenchie? I must be dreaming”

“Don’t make me regret it.”

Sniper glanced around before noticing someone was missing. “Oi, Where’s the spook?”

Spy rolled his eyes and Sniper shook his head, “ No not you! Pyro!”

Engineer pointed out of the door, “Seems to be making himself home, Speakin’ of which, we all should be doing the same, i’m sure when the little lady wakes up she’s gonna want an explanation.”

You yawned as you awoke from your slumber, rubbing your eyes and checking your phone seeing that it was 8:32am. You rolled out of bed and noticed your box full of tf2 merch was knocked over. You bent over to get it, sitting it up straight and putting your little pootis plushie on your bed.

That’s when you smelt something cooking. 

You froze, because now you live alone, when you used to stay with your parents this was a smell you were used to…

But now you’re alone. 

Grabbing a baseball bat that was leaning against the wall, (one that you dont even remember buying, but hey that’s another problem for another day-) You made your way down the hall into the kitchen, and to your horror.

You heard multiple voices.

So now you were slowly creeping forward trying to make a plan in your head as you walked up. You noticed a hard hat on your dining room table along with a fucking FLAMETHROWER.

God you were ill equipped to deal with who ever the hell to enter your home...

You could hear someone with a southern accent speaking so someone else who sounded like they were speaking through a mask.

But right when you rounded the corner you came face to face with a man, dressed just like the Medic from Team Fortress 2. Like from the coat to his boots, he even looked like him too…

The male smiled brightly at you, “Ah! Our little Frau has awoken! Come come you can put down Scout’s bat, we won't hurt you at all…” You look to the bat in your hand and realize that it did look like the one you had equipped to Scout in your game.

You dropped it out of surprise and the noise summoned the two from the Kitchen, which you discovered to be Engineer and Pyro.

“h..How...are you..? You guys aren’t supposed to be real!?” You rightly questioned and Engineer chuckles. 

“Well we are as real as ever, Sugar. We could see you every time you loaded up the game there.”

“Engineer here is correct! We could see you and hear you too!”

“Mhoph hmph!”

You tilt your head before turning a bright red, This means that they have seen you walk in to play the game in just your bra and panties, and then proceed to say the most atrocious things about them for the amount of time you happen to game.

“W-well..where is the others..?” 

“Oh they’re in the livin’ room darl’ tryin’ to figure out how your television works.”

You decide to go look, with Pyro following behind you and low and behold, There was Scout, Demoman, Soldier and Sniper all on your couches watching what seemed to be some sports game.

Scout was the first to notice you and he jolted up with a smirk before coming over, “hey there toots~! Nice to finally see ya in person, I see you like me a lot!” He walks up to you and wraps his arms around you.

"I think me and you are gonna become good friends?~ Specially since im your favorite~"

You freak out a bit, and before you could push him away, Spy does that for you, by pulling him off of you.

He and Heavy walk in with bags in his hands..and your car keys. 

“Where did you?”

“To the store, We were going to cook you breakfast to explain things but it seems you woke up a bit earlier than we expected.” Spy explained as he pulled Scout to the side, ignoring the pout that the 27 year old had.

“You are a special one. We felt connected to you and your friends through game. But we chose you.” Heavy explains and you nod slowly as they guide you to the kitchen and sit you down at the table infront of a well made breakfast.

That was probably what you were smelling when you woke up. You looked down at the food, before giving them a sheepish grin. “a..ah..thank you..I guess..this is still all..jarring you know..” you began.

“All my favorite characters are real now and staying with me..I feel like i am dreaming.”

Medic leans over with that wide grin of his, “Do you need someone to pinch you?”

“No thanks..just give me a moment alone to process this..you guys feel free to roam and set up how you would like..” you say and the 9 males nod all together before all going in different places of the house.

You looked down to see the pancake had a cute smiling face, probably drawn with syrup by Pyro, you gave a small smile before you sighed. 

Maybe this is all a dream that you could wake up from, that they aren’t really real, and that you have to explain to your parents why the hell do you have 9 grown ass adults dressed as mercenaries living with you…

Yea. lets hope it’s one.

AHHHH I HOPE YOU ENJOYED

as I stated earlier, I saw this while i was scrolling trying to find motivated to finish this fic, and seeing that people wanted more reverse isekai tf2 stuff, I hope I could deliver with the fun first part to this series!!

- [Next]

[wisteria-lodge]

What are your thoughts on those who believe hp fans (fan writers, artists, and appreciators alike) should leave the fandom sphere in favor of not giving JKR any “support” even if one does not share her views, as opposed to consuming fan content (or even the original media) while understanding the separation between art from artist (even if that can’t truly be 100% done, as HP is JKR, though that is another discussion entirely)?

I can only answer for myself, but I guess I would say - I'm a teacher, IRL. And my students, they know about Harry Potter, they know the property, they grew up with the movies, they read Harry Potter fanfiction, and... they talk to me about it. I think it's *good* that they talk to me about it. They ask questions about JKR, about the problematic elements in the books, trans issues, queer villains. Whatever is bothering them, whatever they otherwise feel dumb about asking.

Just the other day I had a very sweet conversation with a trans student who had realized he was gay because Harry and Draco in the books were so "real" and "me coded" (and then he realized people shipped them and was like OH.) Basically, he just needed to be told that his experience was still okay and valid even though JKR is such a terrible transphobe. I had another one ask me "why are all queer people Wolfstar?" (what she meant was, why do gay couples in media tend have a masc one + a femme one. But for her, patient zero is Wolfstar, and that's how she phrased the question.)

On this blog, I'm in this position where I clearly know like, a lot about Harry Potter, I clearly authentically love it (and the fan culture around it...) but am very VERY critical of both JKR as a person, and specific choices she made while writing the books. That's a combination that's definitely got me some hate mail, but also thank-you letters, and extremely earnest questions. And, if I never touched HP meta or fandom, I wouldn't get to occupy that space.

I completely, completely understand people who never want to read the words "Harry Potter" ever again. That was me, for years. I only started writing about Harry Potter on this blog last July, but so far it's been very a interesting, rewarding, cathartic experience. I've also had a great time writing fic, and using that as a means to examine my emotions and issues around this property, and with JKR herself. I got such a kick out of matching JKR's writing style as perfectly as I possibly could, and then writing Book 4 babygay Drarry. Or making Tonks just like, super genderqueer, trans, all of the above. Or flipping the framing to write a 100% canon compliant morally grey Dumbledore, and a sympathetic Lucius Malfoy. People seem to really like the fics too, so that's a nice bonus. I've gotten a lot from fanfiction myself in the past, I think it's a fascinating and useful form of art. So, I like getting getting to continue the cycle.

[mae-gi-writes]

let it be me | kuroo tetsurou (3)

In which you, as a new divorcée, can't help but crush on your 4-year-old's new PE Coach.

genre: singleparent!reader x coach! Kuroo, fluff, acquaintances-to-lovers

taglist: @patpatspatz @matchagirliris @multi-fandom-fanfic @alittlebirdahgaselx @kuroos--little--kitten @menacejelly12 @aeshiue @dreamlessnight @altheades @loonalockley @not-your-average-fangirl @bertqut1 @sunlixfl-blog @nabboo007

a/n: enjoy! <3 thanks for all the love given to the first part of this story! here's the second part. Third part is coming soon ~

---- previous | part three | next part >>>

"Seems like the night out helped then?"

Osamu can't hide his grin from the way you're flushing a deep red. It's so cute and adorable to see you this way, after months and months of just having the corpse of your soul wander around his coffee bar like you didn't know where else to go.

Now it seems, is a completely different story. You're glowing.

"How do you know that?" you almost splutter out your coffee as you gawk at your cousin from the other end of the bar.

Osamu proceeds to wipe down the counter. It's a Monday afternoon and it seems that the activity has slowed down somewhat, giving him a chance to catch up with you. He tries to stop the smile from spreading across his face as he answers, "how do you think I know?"

"Your brother can't keep his mouth shut now, can he?" you mutter into your coffee with a scowl.

Osamu laughs, "can you blame him? This is probably the first time since your breakup that you've even considered the possibility of going out and meeting new people. Let alone go through with it. You should be thanking him--"

"He takes too much credit for my happiness. He doesn't need more stroking to his ego."

"Point taken," Osamu can't argue with that. His brother is somewhat of an egocentric bastard. One with a kind heart and a nice smile nevertheless. But still a bastard. Done with the cleaning, he walks over to you as he leans atop the kitchen counter, "so? How was it then?"

"Fine."

Osamu's brow raises, "give me a bit more than that, y/n. I'm not stupid."

You pause, "it was..." the words feel weird swimming along your tongue, "...fun."

"Right?" your cousin breaks into a grin, "and how's the little chica doin'?"

"The little chica is a little too obsessed with her PE teacher."

"At least she likes him."

You hum, "point taken."

Talking to Osamu is a lot easier than his twin counterpart, solely because he isn't as dramatic and is rather subtle, able to control his emotions better and easier to have a conversation with actual sense without going off the rails every five minutes. It was refreshing, despite the fact that you didn't spend as much time as the grey-haired young man due to clashing schedules.

"So...this Kuroo guy..."

A groan can't help but fall from your lips as your head hits the counter, "Osamu, I'm twenty-nine. I don't need any boy talk--"

"Oh yes you do honey," he sing-songs and leans even closer, grey eyes sparkling. It's in these moments that he resembles Atsumu so much you wish to whack him one, "just because your father ain't here doesn't mean you get to do whatever you wa--"

"Enough." your hand shoots out, slapping onto Osamu's mouth.

He pulls away with a cackle, wiping his hands along his apron, "I'm serious though. Kuroo's a good guy, but if he ever does anything out of line--"

"Yeah yeah I got it."

"--I'll kick his balls so hard--"

"Osamu!"

"Okay okay," he chuckles and holds out his hands in surrender, and you glower at him from your seat.

It's bad enough that Atsumu has constantly been wheedling some answers out of you. Adding Osamu to the mix is not something you want on your agenda. Ever since that night, you have been exchanging messages with the said PE Coach despite the growing anxiety about where this will all lead to. But in-between organizing events for your job, baking cakes and debating on whether to sign those darned papers, it's been a welcome distraction.

Okay, maybe more than a welcome distraction.

It's been...amazing.

Something to look forward to. Someone that seemed to understand you, your sense of humor, who doesn't judge and makes you smile no matter what mood you might be in. And somehow, it's hard for your heart to just close off when Kuroo is so insistent on making it melt into a puddle of goo.

Like that one time you were late to pick up Sakura from athletics practice for instance, having been taken up with a client on the other side of the city centre only to have rushed through traffic like a madwoman, arriving when the courtyard was practically empty. Panicked and more than a little worried about Sakura's whereabouts, you had found her at the entrance of the gymnasium, playing footsie with none other than Kuroo.

"Oh," Kuroo noticed you first, golden eyes lighting up just as your daughter's head turned towards the source of curiosity, "Mum!"

She'd dashed over and you'd cradled her in your arms, your heart finally able to resume its normal beating now that you knew she was safe and sound.

You'd looked up at Kuroo then, with his ball tucked under one arm as he casually strode over to you. The words felt pathetic and useless as they tumbled out of your mouth, "I'm --thank you, for staying with her."

"It's no problem," he stopped before you, a smile dancing across the curve of his lips, "it's a good excuse to see you, I suppose."

You blinked at him, "huh?"

And then the words hit you like a truck.

Your face colored so fast even Sakura took note, tilting her head up at you as her eyebrows furrowed in concern, "mum are you okay? You're all red--"

"Oh I'm fine, just--you know, the heat--" you were glad for that excuse. Your entire chest area felt on fire, "I--uhm--It's nice to see you too, I guess--Kuroo-sensei."

It was just impossible to miss the sparkle in Kuroo's eyes and you swore you could feel the warmth from him, like a cozy blanket on a cold night wrapping around you. That was before you'd quickly excused yourself and practically bolted.

Another time you'd been late in dropping Sakura off, having slept in and barely being able to shove a few bits of toast down your throat in hopes of beating the morning traffic. Kuroo, it seemed, had been assigned to morning duty that time, and as you'd rushed through the gates with Sakura in tow, you quickly bowed to him before ushering Sakura to her class.

"Go now," you pressed a quick kiss to your daugher's forehead, "I'll see you after school okay?"

"Yes mum," and Sakura had sauntered away as you watched, breathless and chest heaving, a piece of hair stuck to your lip.

"Everything okay, Kosuke-san?"

When you turned to see Kuroo, hands in the pockets of his basketball shorts and looking all too fine with his PE jersey draped over his broad shoulders like a runaway model, your eyes flitted away with embarrassment.

"Yeah," you nodded, "morning traffic is terrible."

"I bet," Kuroo's eyes flitted down and you followed, only to make a small sound of embarrassment as you spotted two different pairs of sneakers on your feet, "someone woke up late today."

You really want to hide. Maybe duck your head in a whole. Maybe ignore him—

But you can’t, and so you can just shuffle awkwardly like a penguin, “I—was trying out a new style.”

Lame. But what else could you say?

Kuroo’s laugh bought warmth to your cheeks and before you knew it, his fingers had come up to untangle the hair stuck to your face. He pushed it back behind your ear.

“Suits you,” his voice drops to a murmur.

Every single cell in your body had exploded and you’d quickly fumbled for an excuse before rushing into your car as far away as you possibly could.

You tried your best to push him to the back of your mind, for there were a million other things to take care of. Like the divorce papers for example, which had been glaring at you from your coffee table ever since the mailman had deposited it right outside your doorstep.

You were all for signing it, but every time you mustered up the courage to, Atsumu’s words rang like an echo inside your head:

Don’t do it unless you’re getting something out of it.

It keeps eating away at you, the mixture of guilt and remorse. Not to forget the fact that you’ve been adamantly staying away every time you see Aoi’s name flashing across your screen. That all comes to an end one Friday evening when he rolls up in his car to pick up Sakura for the weekend.

Your daughter, unaware of what’s going on, is quick to stick her face to the window, “papa!”

Her shriek makes you wince. Once, this name had made your heart warm.

Now, it just hurts.

“Hey,” Aoi lets himself in with practiced ease and you turn away to stuff the remaining items in Sakura’s bag, all so that you can avoid watching the scene because it hurts a little too much.

“Papa, I’ve been playing a loooot of volleyball recently!” Sakura’s jumping around like an excited pup, “—and I even scored a point once!”

“You?” You hear Aoi chuckle and zip up Sakura’s bag a bit too harshly, “you barely have the height to reach the net!”

“It’s not the actual net Papa!” Sakura scowls then, “it’s a children’s net! Papa, you really need to come pick me up more often. You’ll understand what it looks like then!”

“Yeah you’re right Kura, maybe I should.”

Ache and longing seep through your chest. You couldn’t help not listening in when they were right in front of you, but you did your best in blocking out your ex-husband’s voice as you wrap up the last of her belongings just as Sakura’s voice belts out in surprise:

“Kuroo-sensei?!”

Huh? Your head whips up so fast that you feel the ache of it at the back of your neck. Sakura meanwhile, jumps up and down in barely restrained excitement while pointing at the window, “mum! Mum did you see?! Kuroo-sensei is here!” She turns to look at you, “Why is he here mum?”

Sure enough, the said young man stands at the doorstep, hands in his pockets and leaning against the threshold in a manner that has your heart racing.

You scramble to your feet at the same time that Aoi straightens and swivels towards the door.

Surprise flits through Kuroo’s eyes, lasting a millisecond before he’s grinning and extending a friendly hand, “hey,” he directs it towards your ex-husband, “I’m Kuroo, Sakura’s PE coach.”

“Nice to meet you,” Aoi gives his hand a deft shake and you want nothing more than to disappear, “I’m Sakura’s father.”

“Yes, I see the ressemblance,” Kuroo smiles wanly just as the said child bounds straight into his arms, “Kuroo-sensei! What are you doing here?”

You ignore the way Aoi is drilling holes into your skull. Now is definitely not the time for explanations.

What kind of explanations do you owe him anyway? It's not like he's asked for your permission before he went and played love island with some kind of bimbo you barely knew existed.

“Hey munchkin!” Kuroo sweeps her up and she shrieks in delight before settling her back down, “I’m here for your mum today.”

He is? Your eyes widen, finding his own golden irises in a silent question that Kuroo only responds with a bashful grin.

“Really? Where are you taking mum? Can I come along?” Sakura, as clueless as ever, bounces up and down in delight.

You’re quick to intervene, “Sakura, you’re spending the weekend with Papa remember? He’s been waiting all week to spend some time with you.”

“Yeah, don’t you want some time alone with your dad, kiddo?” Aoi spreads his arms, “come on! Didn’t you want to go to the zoo?!”

Sakura gasps at that, her eyes going round, “we’re going to the zoo?!” She all but squeaks.

You can’t resist smiling at her reactions, leaning down towards her before tucking her hair behind her ear, “that’s what you wanted wasn’t it?”

But her chubby hand grabs onto yours, “are you coming?”

The words pierce you and you take a small inhale. Your eyes find Aoi’s from across the room and though you know it’s not his fault, you know this isn’t something he did just on a whim, your eyes say everything you cannot: you did this to us.

Instead, you’re forced to smile down at her, smoothing one hand over the back of her head, “it’s just going to be you and papa today alright Sakura? And then I’ll see you when you get back tomorrow.”

Her face falls and something twists in your gut, “okay,” her voice is small when she answers.

But you have no choice but to let her go, watching as her father grabbed onto her hand and walked out of the door. You can’t look at Kuroo’s face, knowing that there’s probably pity written all across his features. Definitely not something that you’d want if the situation were reversed.

You’re surprised he still hasn’t high-tailed it back to his car up until now. But maybe he’s just being polite.

“I’m sorry,” is the first thing that makes its way out of your mouth when you finally gather up the courage to face him.

Your eyes stay glued on a spot along his shirt, glad for his tall height as you continue muttering out, “it’s just a bad time, I didn’t know you were coming—“

“Actually I’m the one that should be sorry.”

Your eyes flit up to his, the gentleness in his voice throwing you off guard and what you find in those golden pupils make your heart flutter slightly.

Kuroo just gazes down at you with a small smile,looking a little sheepish, “I realize I just barged in when I wasn’t really welcome.”

“No—no, no! Not at all!” You lift your arms in a sign of surrender, “I’m curious though… why did you? Come, I mean. Is there—“ you hesitate slightly, “—is there something you need?”

“Well,” his smile blossomed into a grin. Pressing against the countertop, he leans forward towards you, “I wasn’t kidding when I said that I came by to see you.”

His words cause a blush to spread across your cheeks, “don’t—say things like that,” you stammer out, “people will misunderstand.”

“Misunderstand what exactly?”

“What we are, our relationship,” you let out a breath and shake your head, “anyway, it doesn’t matter. So? What’d you come here for?”

“Like I said,” his eyes are golden glimmers, sparkling with mischief, “I came to see you.”

“Surely it’s not just that,” you splutter.

“More specifically I came to hang out,” he continues, “I heard there’s this new italian place that just opened up a few streets down. Since you seem free, would you like to accompany me?”

“I—uhm—“ the request is so sporadic it sends your brain into a fuzzy cloud, thoughts scattering and making no sense as you try and piece together a reason as to why you cannot make it out.

Your subconscious is begging you to go, practically kneeling on both knees and jumping up and down in excitement. Your brain though, the logical part, is pulling her hair out at the atrocity of it all.

“Fine,” is what you blurt out. Before you even realize what you’ve said. But when Kuroo gives you that million-watt smile you think that maybe it’s all kind of worth it.

———

“No way, he wouldn’t do that—“

“Oh no, he did.” Kuroo snorts into his drink. Leaning back against the parisian chair in which he’s seated as he splays his legs out before him, you fold one leg over the over, all too aware of how physically close he is. If you moved your leg any further you’re certain to brush against his knee.

A delicious, yet terrifying thought.

Kuroo chatters on with the story about Atsumu being kicked out of the boy’s dorm, “when the manager finally found him, they made him do two-hundred pushups and thirty laps around the training grounds. Was a pretty worthy sight, if you ask me.”

“That sounds exactly like what Atsumu would do,” you can’t help but roll your eyes. Trust your cousin to go through all that incessant stuff just because he’d opened his big mouth.

“How come I’ve never seen you around before?” Kuroo leans back in his seat, golden eyes scanning your face as if trying to piece together his memories of whether he’d seen you or not, “you’re related to them. You should’ve popped up sometime in the picture.”

“I—“ a lump fills the back of your throat and you press your lips together, look away, “we weren't close as we were growing up. They were so--so overwhelming and I was a shy kid. Until Sakura came into the picture."

Kuroo's eyes are warm. Warmer as he keeps on gazing at you with a softness, with the kind of gentleness that makes your heart ache. He's not supposed to look at you like that. Most people will clear their throat at this point in the conversation, or turn their head away.

But he doesn't. He just keeps his eyes on you at all costs. Like you're the most important thing in this room.

You're not sure how to feel about that.

"But when they heard I was pregnant, Atsumu and Osamu were there practically every day," a small smile flickers across your face at the memories that resurface, "they took care of me a lot, especially since my parents were so angry."

You let out a small chuckle, but it's definitely far from funny. It sounds hollow even in the bustling restaurant.

Kuroo leans forward so that his arms rest atop the table, muscles bunching and tensing as he does so. Gorgeous, you think to yourself as he says, "you were alone during your pregnancy?"

"Not actually alone," the smile you show now his bitter, "I had Aoi. At the time he was a really good husband. We got married quickly, just civil, because our parents didn't approve of us keeping the baby. It was quite a shock for them. And I had my two cousins to help me out whenever Aoi wasn't there."

"That must've been hard."

"It wasn't that bad," you take a sip of your water, glad for the distraction.

Kuroo shifts, his knee brushing yours. The warmth sizzles up your leg and a knot forms in your chest. God, you really can't take this.

Almost out of impulse, you find yourself blurting out, "Kuroo-sensei, can I ask you something?"

He tilts his head to the side, a sign for you to go on.

"Why--" the words get clogged up in your throat, "why are you being nice to me?"

The last few words are said in a whisper, for fear of what he will say in return. You hide your hands in your lap to stop them from shaking, but it seems your leg takes on a life of its own as it starts jiggling up and down.

"Kosuke-san."

And that's when Kuroo's hand rests atop your knee. Barely there. Yet searing hot.

Your breath hitches.

You blink at him, heart racing.

He cracks a small, comforting smile. The kind of smile that is crooked at the corners and makes his eyes crinkle up, "you're not scared of me, are you?"

"No," you mumble out, "just scared of your answer."

You shouldn't be so comfortable with him touching you like that. It's gentle, barely there, feather light. It should be scandalous. You should be technically ripping his hand off because in any other normal setting this would count as perverse.

And yet.

Yet, his touch ignites heat that sears right through the material of your jeans. Your heart flutters at his touch and your leg freezes in mid-shake, unsure of whether to continue when his gaze makes you feel a multitude of things, things that you're not sure are good considering what happened in the past.

When Kuroo answers next, you almost swoon right out of your chair. His voice dips into a murmur, one so raw and throaty it turns your insides to mush:

"Because I think you deserve some kindness."

"So," your forehead creases as you attempt to decipher his words, "do you pity me, then?"

“No, well—maybe a little, at first,” he catches himself, cheeks suddenly blazing full pink under your gaze, “obviously, it’s hard not to sympathize when I see a single mother doing her best for her daughter.”

“Surely I’m not the only single mother in that entire school.”

“No, but you’re different,” Kuroo’s eyes fill with warmth, “and also, not all parents are as kind as you are."

"That's not really--"

“You’d be surprised,” Kuroo cuts you off with a raised brow, “don’t be so naive, Kosuke-san. People aren’t as nice as you might make them out to be,” his eyes lock on yours, “but you are.”

You look away and swallow thickly, “yeah— I suppose.”

His hand is still on your knee. One part of you wants to move away. The rational part screaming that this shouldn’t be appropriate at all. Yet another bigger part of you is squealing in delight in hopes that he never takes it off.

You don't know which part of your brain you wish to turn off and trample on until it's just an afterthought in your subconscious.

Thankfully, the waiter approaches and Kuroo's hand drops away from your skin. He insists on paying the bill despite your best efforts and even goes as far as to drive you back home in his beat-up truck.

"Thank you," you mumble as you spot your front door, void of any activity now that Sakura's at her father's. It's always like this; lonely nights, with thoughts of what-ifs trickling through the back of your brain like a never-ending stream of water that gets muddied the more time passes. You understand and are happy that she at least has a father who wants to be in her life. That's the least you could've asked for from your ex-- well, soon to be ex-husband once you sign that darned paper -- but it's the thought of the other woman that makes you sick in the stomach. Jealousy churns like an ache that spreads and knots and tightens. What if Sakura likes her stepmom better? What if the other woman gives her everything she wants, everything she needs without batting a single eyelid?

You're so caught up in your own head that you barely hear Kuroo's murmur, until he's calling out your name from the driver's seat.

You quickly spin your head towards his, a guilty smile curving across your lips, "sorry, I got lost in my head for a second," you chuckle in hopes that it will dissipate the sudden tension filling the vehicle, glancing out of your apartment complex and glad that, for once, there's a bit of light flickering in the corridors.

"Thanks for bringing me home," you tell him.

"Pleasure is all mine," Kuroo replies. His eyes are on you though, as if reading right through you.

So you quickly try to dispel his worry by saying, "I'm just going to go up and rest. It's been quite a day and--"

"Do you--" he hesitates, purses his lips in thought, "do you want me to hang out for a while? Until you're sleepy and kick me out."

You're not too certain what to do except gawk at him. Which he takes as a cue that you might've twisted his words in the wrong way. For he quickly adds in a scramble of words, "Not--Not like you're inviting me over or anything. Just--I mean, as a friend. I just--I could keep you company."

His words echo in the silence and something in your heart swells at the kind gesture. Kuroo says that you're kind, but he clearly doesn't see how much effort he does for you. And here he is, sitting there looking bashful and embarrassed about asking to keep you company. Your heart melts a little and you agree, showing him the way to the guest parking.

Just as a friend, you try to tell your heart, just as a friend. And nothing else.

-----

If someone had asked you, a few weeks ago, whether Kuroo was a fine catch. You'd probably answer yes and move on with your day.

But now, your life seems so entwined with his that you're not sure whether that's a good or a bad thing.

After your little outing a few weeks ago where he'd decided to keep you company in the dark hours until the very early morning, you'd seemed to have crossed a bridge that you cannot back-pedal no matter how hard you try. If you close your eyes, you can still imagine the vivid picture of the two of you; first at the kitchen table sharing a glass of wine as you kept babbling about random stories and tales from your childhood, before you'd finally landed on the couch playing a crazy game of Mario kart, courtesy of Aoi's mistake of having forgotten his Switch when he'd first decided to move out.

You'd never had so much fun in so long that you'd almost cried yourself to sleep that night, right after Kuroo had stumbled out of your flat. He'd blatantly refused your couch as guest room, saying that staying over would just be more of a hassle when he had early classes the next morning.

But that doesn't stop him from seeing you when he can. Nor you him. And it's become something of an addiction.

He drops by every week now whenever Sakura's gone to her father's place. These nights are spent playing scrabble, watching reruns of Harry Potter like the nerds you are, and holding conversations that run longer than you'd expect them to. It seems like routine for Kuroo to clock out around one in the morning and every time he does walk away and disappear down the corridor, something in your heart clenches at his absence.

The flat does feel a little too lonely once Kuroo's gone. But you'd never tell him that small fact.

Today he's come around a little earlier than usual, due to a special meeting between teachers and parents that the school had organised. He's busy playing house with Sakura while you're preparing the pizza base for your night in, something that you hadn't done since--well, ever since Aoi had moved out actually. But now, you're even humming to imaginary music and glancing at the living room couch where Kuroo is currently giving a full-on review about Sakura's imaginary cooking skills.

Your heart swells tenfold and you swear the sight makes you cry. It's what you crave for, it's what Aoi had done for you once, for your family. Before he'd decided that you weren't good enough and had moved on to someone else.

"--perfect combination of sweet and spicy. I think I'mma gives this Mac and cheese a perfect ten out of ten," Kuroo was saying just as the front door rang.

You went to open it, wiping your hands down the front of your jeans before unlocking the door.

The sight of Aoi always made your heart sink and your stomach churn.

But not today. Today, your heart barely acknowledges him and you think it's good progress. You even go as far as give him a smile, "hey Aoi."

"Hi Y/N," he keeps glancing behind your back and you're pretty certain why; it's the sight of Kuroo with his daughter, probably, that unnerves him.

Your suspicions are proved right when he mutters, "what's he doing here again?"

It's low, like a grumble, so that only you can hear it in this vicinity.

You straighten, "he's my friend. He's spending the evening with me today."

"Like he's been doing every week?"

"Yes," you raise a brow, prop a hand on your hip, "is that a problem?"

"I have one problem, yes," Aoi scowls back, "why is he spending time with our daughter like he deserves it?"

"Why is that a problem? Do you not let--what's her name again? Josie? Jodie? -- do you not let her play and spend time with Sakura?"

"It's Judy, and she's going to be my wife, Sakura's stepmother," Aoi hisses and you can't help but flinch, "don't you think you're just making it harder for Sakura? It's been bad enough with the divorce and everything--"

What? You chuckle and that ignites into a laugh so hollow and void of emotion that Aoi flinches, "excuse me?" the nerve of this man. Your voice hardens, "I'm the one making it harder for Sakura? Tell me Aoi, who's the one who left?"

"I left because I was unhappy--"

"So was I!" you suddenly spit out, anger rising through you. You don't care that Kuroo can hear you now. Well, you should care that Sakura's witnessing one of the many fights you will have with her father. But you can't take it. Not all this belittling.

Not when you're finally feeling something other than this overwhelming grief that plagues you and breaks you into tiny pieces every time you look at that fucking darned document.

Your knuckles shake so hard you have to tighten them into fists that you glue to your sides.

You continue, "I was unhappy and guess why? It was all because of you! Because you always had something--you barely spent time with us after Sakura was born and--and we barely talked! You didn't want to talk. Heck, you made sure to steer clear of me whenever we were in the same darned house," your voice rose with each sentence, the clench in your stomach finally unleashed after restraining it, holding it in for Sakura's sake.

"But I endured. I endured it, because we had a daughter. We had a child, and goddamn it I was responsible enough to think of her first, and not myself," you snarl, for once glad that Aoi seems at loss for words, almost panicked, "and--what? You're lecturing me about making it hard for her? About being selfish?" you snicker and spread your arms wide, "look around Aoi. You know who's responsible for this mess, and it's definitely not me."

The silence that follows your little monologue is so heavy and laden with emotion that nobody dares break it. Even Sakura has stopped talking, though you don't know what's happening behind your back, wanting to keep your eyes on that fucking bastard and end this, once and for all.

When Aoi does nothing to answer -- because what's he going to say when you're right?-- you swivel, go to retrieve the signed divorce papers atop your kitchen table you've been dutifully ignoring until now, and storm back to him.

"And here," you thrust the papers at him so suddenly he shrieks as he grapples with the folder, "you can take your damned divorce papers. I don't need them, and I don't need you."

And before Aoi can say anything else, you've slammed the door in his face.

Bang.

Silence.

You can hear a pin drop.

You're heaving, chest rattling with every breath, gaze fixated on the door.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

It's the relief that sweeps in first, through the cracks of anger that slowly melt away.

And then, realisation that nothing will ever be the same.

Then, grief.

It hits you like a truck.

Everything you've worked for. Everything you had lost.

You're not sure when your body decides to crumple to the ground, just that there are warm arms to catch you this time before a soft baritone echoes through the side of your head, through your chest and making you want to cry.

Kuroo is talking, and somewhere in-between the lines of numbness and pain you make sense that he wants to take Sakura out for a bit, just enough time for you to recollect your thoughts. You're so lost in your own thoughts that he has to repeat a question twice for you to snap to attention.

"Do you want me to stay? Or do you want me to go? Up to you, anything that makes you happy."

Kuroo is babbling, but the fact that he even asks you for what you want, for once, makes your chest ache with terrible sweetness. You don't deserve him in any shape or form.

You nod, and Kuroo takes it as a good sign, for he prompts, "what do you want me to do Y/N?"

As if on impulse, his hand pushes stray hairs away from your face. The action is gentle, kind. Almost loving.

Almost.

"Take her out," you manage to mumble, "please, Kuroo. I--I don't want her to see me like this."

"Got it." And Kuroo's off, scooping up Sakura with a playful tone, distracting her from the mess that you are huddled over in the corner of the living room as he shoves his shoes on and strides out of the flat so that all is left is you, the echo of silence that remains, and the feelings lying in the pit of your stomach.

-----

It's some time later that you hear the lock twisting in the door. You've managed to pull yourself together by then, finishing up the pizzas so that they're warm and fresh out of the oven. Sakura's footsteps echo against the wooden floor as she runs over to you.

"Mum!"

You force a smile. It comes a little easier when you see your daughter so excited, "hello, you," you coo. She slams her entire body right into your mid-section and your arm wraps around her, "how was the walk with Kuroo-sensei?"

"We saw ducks! And--And Kuroo-sensei let me play on the swings. He even pushed me so that I went up high!" Sakura's chubby finger pointed towards the ceiling to show just how high it was, and you chuckled before hugging her close. Feeling the warmth of her small body against yours is something you'll never really get over. It's like she fits and moulds right into the crevices of your broken parts to make them whole again.

Your eyes travel over to the said young man in question who's been responsible for so much of her happiness, and you soften, "thank you," you mouth to him over the kitchen counter.

He shakes his head and sends you a smile. It melts your insides, warming your tummy and instantly causing your cheeks to flush bright red.

You look away with a sharp swallow, "I've made something that looks like dinner," you propose tentatively, "if you'd like to stay."

You don't look at him as he strides over, big steps closing the gap between the front door and the dining table. He shrugs off his coat in the process, "I'm always in for food."

It would be stupid of you to think that such a normal dinner routine might make Kuroo forget all about what happened a little earlier. But it's the way his eyes search your face when he thinks you're not looking, the way the concern swims in his entire demeanour, like he's not sure whether he can completely relax yet.

Part of you is more than horrified by this turn of events. You don't want Sakura's sports coach thinking you're an unsuitable parent, nor do you want him to know about your personal matters considering he's a bit too close to home. It's embarrassing and humiliating and every time you meet his eyes by accident across the table you make sure to look away as quickly as you can.

The other, more selfish part of you, though, is suddenly relishing in the warmth that Kuroo's presence brings to the flat. And you can't help but crave for more, despite knowing this is not what's best for you and your little girl.

After all, even if Kuroo did think of you that way -- which he doesn't by the way -- he'd be tied down with a liability that's too hard to bear when it's not your own child.

Cleaning up after dinnertime in silence, Kuroo volunteers to take charge so that you can put Sakura to bed. You send him an apologetic smile, quickly going through the bedtime motions with your daughter before you can tuck her into bed.

"Mum," Sakura's voice is merely above a whisper as she cuddles into her blanket. The sight is so cute, it makes your heart swell and you resist the urge to coo, "Are you okay Mum?"

You pause, hiss in a breath.

What are you supposed to tell her?

What exactly are you supposed to say?

You manage to choke out a soft, "I'm alright."

"Is Papa okay?"

"Yes," your heart breaks a little more. You barely manage to murmur, "yes he's okay sweetie. Just--It's been a hard time."

"Why Mum?"

You don't know what to say, so you opt for pushing her hair away from her face, "well, sometimes adults face difficult decisions. And those decisions ...they hurt us. Sometimes."

"Did Papa hurt you today?"

Tears well at the corner of your eyes but you refuse to sniff, refuse to show her that you're as battered and beaten as what your heart says.

"No sweetie, he didn't--he would never hurt me, or you. Because he's your Papa and he--he loves you very much."

"Does he really?"

"Yes," you wrap your arms around her in a hug, hoping that this will dissipate all her queries, all her suspicions of her father, "yes he does. He really does love you. A lot."

From the depths of your arms, you hear your daughter's soft echo of, "okay."

It takes more than just a few minutes for Sakura to doze off. But you tuck her in gently when she does, rearranging the blankets around her frame before slowly backing out of the room. You find Kuroo still at the kitchen sink with your supposed apron around his waist, and the sight of him -- so domestic, like he's been living here all along -- makes you want to cry all over again.

"She's asleep?" Kuroo's voice causes your shoulders to jump. You nod and walk over to where he stands, taking note of the amount of dishes left.

"Thank you," you gesture towards the squeaky clean plates hanging off to dry, "it's all good now, I'll take over--"

Kuroo throws you a look and tuts, "sit down. I'm gonna make us some tea."

"But--"

"Kosuke-san," the dip between his brows deepen, "go sit down."

It's non-arguable and you let out a soft sigh of defeat as you pad over to the couch, grumbling something incoherent under your breath. Does he have to be so perfect at everything? It's almost like living in a fairytale dream.

Or is he just being nice because he wants something out of you?

A shudder suddenly makes its way up your spine and you shake your head, ridding yourself of all negative thoughts. No, he won't do that, your brain chides, he's not like that.

He's not like Aoi.

"Here."

You look up to find none other than the said man settling down beside you, nudging a cup of what seems to be hot water into your hands.

"Sorry," he mumbles, "I couldn't quite find your tea. Your place is a bit like a labyrinth."

"Yeah that's what happens when you have a toddler," you grimace, "but thank you. I do appreciate--" you hesitate, a small smile flickering across your lips, "hot water."

Kuroo chuckles, "right? It was made with love."

You sip on your hot water as a comfortable silence settles over you, with only the hum of the fridge and distant cars from afar filling the room. The weight of all your troubles are finally getting to you, making your body sluggish as it succumbs to the comforts of your pillows.

"Kuroo sensei," you bite down onto your lower lip, before your eyes flutter up to his face to find that he's already been looking at you, "I--"

"It's Kuroo," he interrupts, "we're friends, right?"

You try to bite back your smile, "yeah. I suppose," your head dips back down to your lap, "I just--I wanted to say thank you. For everything. But...especially for today."

"Kosuke-san, I think it's fair enough to say that you were having a hard time," Kuroo answered, "I just did what I thought was right. And--also, not to be that person, but he didn't have to do it in front of his daughter."

"Yeah you're right," you sigh, "well, that's Aoi for you. Selfish, self-centred, always wants what's best for himself."

There's a moment for the words to digest in the air. You sip on your hot drink, not wanting to meet Kuroo's eyes for fear of what you'll find there.

If you had any doubts about Kuroo questioning his interest for you, that had to be long gone by now. Nobody in the world wanted someone who already had baggage, and a physical baggage that would forever be a reminder of your past.

The truth hurts. It punches you straight in the gut.

You suck in a sharp breath, loathing yourself for even thinking about it. For even entertaining the idea.

But then, Kuroo asks you a question. One that instantly breaks down your walls no matter how much you fight it.

"Are you alright?"

You can't help it.

You break.

It's as if all tears once bottled up are suddenly let loose. Pressing your hands up to your face to muffle your cries, you feel Kuroo's arms wound around you again, pulling you insistently to his chest despite your best tries at resisting. But he's warm and for once in your life you don't feel like fighting, which is how you find yourself sobbing into his shirt, hands gripping it tight like he might disappear at any given moment.

All that time, Kuroo merely lets you cry, one hand smoothing over the back of your head while he presses his cheek against your temple.

"Shh," he keeps murmuring into the shell of your ear, "it's okay. It's going to be okay."

Some time later finds you in his arms, practically cuddled up to his chest and your cries reduced to mere sniffles. Kuroo has leaned back onto the couch so that you're resting against him, soft curves pressed to his firm ridges and hands absentmindedly running through your hair in a way that makes your eyes flutter with the heaviness of sleep.

It's comfortable. Too comfortable you might just fall asleep here.

Kuroo dares to peek at your face, noticing that you're staring off into space.

Your phone suddenly buzzes from your pocket, startling you out of whatever daydream you'd concocted. Quickly fishing it out of your pant pocket, you unlock the screen only to find Atsumu's message.

Atsumu: I suppose you're with Mr. Hotshot? Any chance of getting laid tonight? ;)

Your face colours right when you feel Kuroo's chest vibrate with a laugh.

You quickly whip the phone away from his view, "y--you're not supposed to read other people's texts!"

Your heart is practically cartwheeling at this point and you swear you feel sweat dot your hairline as Kuroo throws his head back with even more laughter.

You scowl at him, "what's so funny?!"

"Nothing, oh--god, nothing at all," he can't seem to control himself, shaking his head with a grin so wide it makes the sight adorable for some unknown godforsaken reason. He runs a hand over his face, trying and failing to calm down, "I just--oh man Atsumu. Do tell me more."

"Like I said, it's rude to read other people's texts," you snap.

"Oh I'm sorry, you opened it in front of my face though," Kuroo's grin is so wide that it frustrates you to no end. But before you can shove him away, his hold tightens as he pins you closer.

Your eyes widen, fluttering up to meet his golden brown pupils in surprise. He's warm, and firm, and just about as delicious as you had imagined. It makes your stomach knot, makes you slightly dizzy as you get a whiff of his deodorant--something musky, something that smells just like him.

When he speaks next, his voice has dropped two octaves.

"So how long were you going to keep it a secret from me?"

His murmur sends a chill up your spine. Your hands, not knowing what should be done with them, curl along his shirt.

Your eyes find a blank spot in the middle of his chest, "it's...not a secret. It's just a--a joke. Of some sort."

"A joke?" his smirk widens, "well share it with me too."

"It's none of your business."

"Pretty sure you made it my business by opening it in front of me."

Oh god. You can't even stop your heart from beating so loudly it's like a hummingbird. You're pretty certain Kuroo can hear it. "I--uhm--"

Your brain tries to scramble for words. But it's impossible. Not when he's so close. Definitely not when he's looking at you like that. With those eyes.

"Something tells me you've been holding out on me."

"Not at all."

You're still very adamant on averting your eyes. But his hand finds your chin, tilting it up until you have no choice but to look straight into those beautiful swirls of golden shimmering with amusement and what seems to be -- tenderness? Affection?

"Tell me," his murmur is raw, throaty. Like warm, melted chocolate.

You take a soft breath. Your chest constricts. It's impossible to breathe.

"Atsumu," you start in a shaky whisper, "he thinks--" you swallow, "he thinks that we might have... a--a thing."

"A thing?" his arm laced around your middle tightens slightly, "what makes him think we might have a thing?"

"Well I don't know, I--' god, is this supposed to be this hard? To admit that you have a small crush? You suck in air in-between your teeth as you bite the inside of your cheek, turn your head away, "I guess I talk a lot about you."

He hums in reply, "I like the sound of that."

And with another tug at your chin your eyes have no choice but to lock on his. There's a softness there in those beautiful pupils flecked with long, drawn out eyelashes.

""The sound of what?" you blink.

"Us having a thing," Kuroo's hand seems to find it fun to caress up and down your hipbone. His touch is searingly warm against your skin, "you talking about me, you blushing because of it."

"Well don't be so full of yourself," You huff out, "you're a good friend, and I'm grateful--"

"Y/N."

Woah.

You've never imagined the sound of your name falling from his lips. But here it is, laced with some kind of attentiveness, with some sort of affection that makes you weak at the knees and causes warmth to drip to your lower belly.

Your lips part. But you find you can't seem to formulate words. He continues, "I like you, not just as a friend. I think you're brave, incredibly kind, smart--"

"What are you doing?"

"Huh?" Kuroo frowns, "I--What does it look like I'm doing?"

"I don't know," you're starting to panic, pulling away slightly in the process, "that's what I'm asking you."

"Well I--" a small chuckle echoes past his lips, "I guess what I'm trying to do is ask you out."

"Oh." the words take a few seconds to register in your brain.

Oh.

"Oh." you repeat like an idiot. Oh shit.

He's actually serious.

Oh shit.

Oh fuck.

"Uhm--" your throat has suddenly gone so dry that nothing seems to come out of It no matter how hard you try.

Kuroo just lets out a small laugh before his hand goes up to push a few stray hairs out of your face, "cat got your tongue?"

"Kuroo-sens--I mean, Kuroo--" you try to stutter out through the butterflies rippling through your chest at his gentle action, "It's not that simple, I--I have a daughter. It's a responsibility. A liability. And I'm no casual dater, I'm more of a long-term relationship type of girl."

"And?"

"And there's absolutely no reason for you to like me other than as a friend, because I have baggage. I'm not a single woman, I'm on the brink of a divorce and I have a four--almost five year old -- always running around," you realise you're babbling but it's impossible not to, especially not with him looking at you like that, "trust me, that's probably the last thing you want--"

"When I say I like you," Kuroo murmurs, "I mean all of you. And that includes Sakura."

"You don't mean that, until you actually experience--"

"I do mean it."

You shake your head, "Kuroo I--"

"Can I just take you out?" There's a slight note of desperation in his tone. In a smooth motion, the hand twined around your waist slips up to your hand, thumb drawing soft circles over your wrists as his eyes pin you down with an intensity that makes you want to squirm, "just one date. That's all I ask."

Your immediate response is no. Because why would you? You're literally just getting out of a relationship. The last thing that you want is another of these holes that you'll take months to recover from. And what if Kuroo decides you're not what he wants after all? He's younger than you, dashingly handsome, and can get whoever he wants in this entire world.

So why you?

But as soon as you open your mouth to tell him no, your thoughts fly back to this afternoon; the way he'd cared for Sakura when you were having a mental breakdown, the way he'd cradled you in his arms like you were fragile porcelain, the way he hadn't hesitated the moment you'd asked for help.

Even back then, Aoi hadn't taken charge this way. Aoi hadn't even bothered. And so you'd gotten used to not asking. To do things all by yourself.

Looking back into those golden-hued eyes makes you hopeful. And that's the worst thing that can happen to you, hope. But still, it's impossible to say no when Kuroo's gazing down at you so fondly. Like you're the only thing holding his world together. like he'd do anything to be with you.

So you say yes.

[bunniemoth]

[fic] Sugar (yandere!Sam x f!Farmer)

Title: Sugar Pairing: yandere!Sam x f!Farmer Fandom: Stardew Valley Words: 16,743 Rating: Explicit Warnings: yandere tropes, stalking, surveillance, oral sex, oversensitivity, dubious consent, extremely dubious consent, non-con, consensual non-con, non-consensual drug use, alcohol consumption, exhibitionism, ownership/possession, a litany of pet names that range from sweet to saccharine to degrading, praise kink, somnophilia, edging, public sex, p in v, some light pet play, Jungian motifs (because fuck it why not with these warnings), and handy recipes to help with your baking. 

Summary:

“All that golden retriever energy must have an outlet,” you thought. You didn’t realize just how much of a sick puppy he was.

...

A Sam x f!Farmer Dark Romance, inspired by the Sam After Dark mod.

Excerpt available below the cut / Read it at Ao3 >

What a nice guy, you thought — that bright shock of blond hair and the wild laughter almost manic as he doubled over, hitting the cobbles at full force, his skateboard lost across the square at a rattle. He was still grinning, sun-kissed and shimmering in the spring warmth, dirtied and scuffed but thrilled with his triumph when he crowed,

“Did you see that kickflip!” 

And that’s where it started, because the skateboard rolled to a stop against your ankle as you poured over the notice board attached to Pierre’s shop, trying to figure out how to grub out a lunch from a 95g reward for an amethyst with Grandpa’s shitty little pickaxe.

He jogged over, his shirt used as a mop for a sweat revealing a length of tanned stomach and the muscles to compliment it and the top of his boxers had little hearts and —

“You must be the new farmer.” That grin had a devastating glimmer, brilliant white and so deep it showed off dimples. “Damn,” he laughed, looking you over. “If I realized you were going to be this cute, I’d have showered.”

He sparkled, radiating a guileless sort of charm that knocked you completely off guard —  from the saggy, worn-in denims hanging off his hips, to the ratty teeshirt clinging to broad shoulders. But the real killer were those baby blue eyes; they glittered like sunshine on the Gem Sea on a clear day, and more, he had the buoyant energy of a golden retriever puppy — a tower of a man in a six foot two frame, fresh into his twenties, if you’d give him a day. 

“Hey,” he said, and stuck out a hand for a shake.

Disarmed, you matched your desk job-tender fingers for callouses as he gave you a squeeze, thumb running over your knuckles without dropping your gaze.

You’d think he’d be trouble, if it weren’t for the way he dipped in like he was sharing a secret and said, “I’m Sam,” and blushed a little, and added, “It’s short for Samson. But no one knows that.” 

It came out of your mouth without effort: “It’ll be our little secret.”

Farmer, you’d be lying if you said your heart didn’t give a little kick — that snap and rattle of tension like the snare on a drum loosing a butterfly flutter of nerves in your belly, sweet like honey, and oh, so yummy when he smiled like he agreed.

He didn’t let go of your hand until you told him your name, and even then he lingered like your attention was a ray falling from the heavens and he was a sunflower. 

“This yours?” 

You played it coy, stepping on the tail of his skateboard to pop it into your fingers, but he caught your elbow as if you might lose your balance, the board forgotten.

“Careful,” he said. “Don’t wanna damage the merch.”

Or maybe it was just strategy, feeling you out for weaknesses — a lack of coordination, or maybe trying to paint you the damsel in distress. Whatever it was, those little touches warmed you up like melted butter, sinking into his space with the affectations of a shy lover intent on staying close but not too close to be too forward. 

Flirting, your honour: you swear, that’s all you intended. 

“Maybe you can teach me sometime.” You shrugged a shoulder, and looked up at him through your lashes for just a second before turning away because the grin he offered made you feel reckless. 

“Not afraid of a little danger. I get it,” he said. 

“Maybe I’m into that,” you returned.

His grin showed off a flash of canines.

All too quickly, you were pulling away before you could do something to embarrass yourself. 

“I’d better get back,” you told him. “Still trying to unpack.”

“Don’t be a stranger,” he said. “I mean it. We’re practically neighbours.”

You were already strolling back to the dirt road that led to grandpa’s place — so you called to him over your shoulder, “Just name the day. I’ll be there, Samson.” 

The look he gave you just then made you shiver, a cloud passing across those blue sky eyes like a storm might’ve been brewing someplace off in the distance. No such thing, you thought — just your imagination. A trick of the light.

He scrubbed up the back of his head, showing off a lean bicep, and gestured broadly towards Gus’ place —

“It’s Friday. We shoot pool at the Saloon, usually — come by after sundown and we can split a pizza, or something.”

You stopped yourself from asking if he liked sweet things, because desserts were your specialty, if you could get the right ingredients — or maybe even grow them. 

You’d save it: a question for later, maybe, the insinuation maybe too much, too soon, too thirsty for a guy-next-door type with scruffy edges and a warm disposition. 

You bet he’d be a good kisser. 

“I’ll be there,” you told him, because you felt lighter than you had in forever as he watched you walk away, the weight of his gaze a caress that lingered in your inlets and alcoves, the will to know your secrets stronger even then than what you thought you wanted to offer.

Sam. 

Yeah, maybe you’d end up liking this place, you thought. Or at least the company.

You returned to the Stardrop promptly at eight.

Read the full thing at Ao3 >

(It was too big for tumblr, sorry!)

[tesscourtes]

saw you had asks open, not a drawing request but wanted to know if there was any more story to your human bill’s punishment-for-weirdmageddon-is-to-turn-weak-human au, I really like it (sorry if you explained this a while back, I only just watched gravity falls😭I’m a late-comer to the fandom)

it’s just superepiccool to me, how are dipper and mabel about him being human now? Soos n Wendy, Stan and Ford? What was it like for them (especially Ford) when he just turned human? What was it like for Bill?

oh hey don't worry, I haven't really talked much about the details of the AU like ... ever. I just started reviving it because I got my partner into the show (they are also a new fan! yay, new fans! Funny enough I had no idea TBOB was coming out so the timing was mad exquisite.) and they have just been an amazing help shaping my messy thoughts and coming up with new, fun plots! It's also nice to know there's someone out there interested in it, so thank's for asking! Now that I read TBOB I want to change the premise a bit, but the core is still the same.

Let me tell you this AU is silly. I'm aware Billford is toxic and there are many corners to dive into to picture their messy relationship. But I kinda wanna keep the spirit of the show here and make it equally as fun as it is disturbing. Given that Bill canonically is trapped in endless Therapy gives me even more food to work with, he just out there being toxic and people repeatedly telling him to cut it out.

I'm not gonna go into too much detail because I'm actually working on the first comic chapter for this AU, but regarding the characters: Each of the Pines, as well as Wendy and Soos, are not happy seeing him, but individually grow more accustomed to him and with him. I guess going from "most accepting" to "least accepting", Mabel took it the best. I wouldn't say she was quick to forgive, but quick enough to give the guy a chance. And I honestly have to say that, although this is 100% a Billford AU, there's so many plot ideas for just Mabel and Bill and their amazing, chaotic shenanigans. Put these two together and the stories basically write themselves. Wendy is pretty similar, and the most chill in actually helping Bill figure out human stuff.

Naturally, Ford took it the hardest. I'm aiming for slowburn here, haha. They got to figure out some stuff that I'm so ready to put onto pages... Ford is a lot of emotions. Confused, angered, curious... Meanwhile Stan is Bills biggest hater. (There is a lot of bullying in this AU) He just keeps up with it because his Family makes him. He's very protective and tries to kick Bill out several times. Soos sticks with Stan, but he's also Soos and has a big heart, so in Bills eye, he's very gullible and a target he can mess with easily.

Dipper is not a fan either, he has a hard time adjusting to the triangle just getting to ... be there. He's suspicious for the most part and Bill has to try hard to get on his good side. But honestly he might be more upset with Mabel (and later on Wendy) for making friends with Bill so easily, even though he knows that's just their nature. I just recently started thinking about Gideon and how I'd like to include him, but nothing worth mentioning so far yet.

With Bill himself, one my favorite parts trying to portray so far is how he's dealing with his new mortality. He adjusts to the body fine, he knows how to navigate flesh, but he has a hard time accepting that it's his body. His new prison, essentially. If it's gone, he's gone. If he treat's it like shit, he feels like shit. Then we add the psychological aspect of things. And more importantly, we add Ford to the equation. When I tell you, that demon is experiencing psychological damage here, and it's fully his fault. TBOB really pointed out to me that I need to dive into his obsession with Ford. How do you even get a man you fumbled so bad, to even acknowledge you again?

I love yapping about this AU, thanks again for giving me the grounds to do so anon! I'm an insecure writer so it'll probably take another hot minute to choose which script feels best to draw out, haha. But I'm glad you seem to be up for the ride!!

[bunny-jpeg]

hi bunny can I get tiramisu, shortbread cookies, a bagel and chai with Daniel Ricciardo please?🙏🏽

bakery menu!!

want to submit your own order? then hit up the menu! thank you to all of those who have submitted orders, i am working tirelessly to get them all completed!! they have been a pleasure to write though, so thank you!! i love that the daniel ricciardo fandom is still going strong! i've received a tenfold of requests since he got the boot! so i hope ya'll love this <3

tiramisu: “my little slut to ruin.” + shortbread cookies: "and who does this belong to?" + bagel: “gonna paint you with my teeth.” + chai: biting/hickies served by daniel ricciardo (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, biting & hickies, dirty talking & praise, doggy style

pearly whites. the kind of smile that made most weak in the knees. daniel ricciardo was the epitome of the sun. bright and inviting, smiles that could light up rooms. even at his worst he was still smiles, he still could make anyone swoon with them. it was like welcoming the sun into your home.

however, most of all, you loved those teeth most of all in your neck.

daniel wasn't a controlling lover. he cared too much about you and your autonomy to really feel a need to control you. you were your own woman, you were allowed to make your own choices. it was only fair.

but that didn't mean the word 'mine' wasn't thrown around. especially when he had both of his hands up your t-shirt. he groped your breasts while his lips were on your neck. you could feel your heart pounding with lust as he felt you up.

"you're mine." he said, "my little slut to ruin." he licked at the nape of your neck while his grip on you tightened. it almost turned your knees into jelly as pleasure shot through your body.

"danny."

he chuckled, "shh, shh. i know. you know that i know that i'm right." he licked you once more, "i've got you all figured out, beautiful. how much you need this. how much you love when i touch you. i know exactly how to do it, to turn you on till you can't think of anything but, my cock."

"you've ruined me for other men." you whined.

he yanked you as close as he could to his chest and pulled away to look you in the eyes. his eyes carried lust and were beautiful. he grinned as he said, "good."

you ended up in your shared bedroom with daniel determined to get your clothes off. he pushed up your shirt while he walked behind you to the bedroom. eventually that was off before you even made it to the bed.

"danny."

he chuckled, "so beautiful." he got your bra off and eventually your sweatpants you had been in most of the day. he got himself undressed as well and took a moment to admire you. he cupped his hard cock through his briefs and said, “gonna paint you with my teeth.” the idea of you with his marks excited him before the two of you were on the bed and both fully naked.

you gasped loudly when he bit into your neck. your nipples went hard and your back arched. you held onto his shoulders as he left a massive hickey on your neck.

his cock dripped pre-cum onto your stomach as he went in for another series of hickies. he made a little pattern down to your breasts where he bit at your nipples until you were practically kicking out your legs.

"paint you nice and purple with my teeth." he groaned as he rubbed his cock up against your stomach, "you always look better with my marks. now i have to know, who does this belong to?" then reached down to drag his fingers across your achy cunt.

"yours, danny. always."

he just smiled once more before he played with your nipples and left little bruises across your pretty tits. you wouldn't be wearing low cut tops for a good while.

you ended up on your stomach with your hips raised. he admired your backside and wondered how much he could mark up your pretty skin. he pushed himself against you, watching your hips raised a little and admired your beauty.

"you drive me crazy, beautiful." he said with a smile before he started to leave a few dark marks on your backside. he swore he could feel your rapid heartbeat from your back. he rubbed his scratchy beard up against the bruises he left on you.

your back arched and you moaned. the noises only got louder when he sank his cock into your sweet, wet pussy. you held onto the pillow under your head and whined into it.

"danny." you moaned as you felt the pleasure in your gut. your skin ached a little from your lover's hickies. but it left your core feeling warm. you loved it, the same teeth he flashed the cameras were dug into your soft skin.

"i love you, honey." he said as he fucked you. he thrusted his hips and watched your ass shake from the movements of his hips. he could feel the warmth in his gut as he moved against you. you looked beautiful in every way he could have you.

from expensive clothes to one of his t-shirts to nothing, it was all beautiful and it only riled daniel up more as he pleasured you. he groaned a little bit, accompanied by your sugary sweet moans..

"daniel. fuck." you whined as you tried to grasp onto the covers for some leverage. you were so easily moved by his body. he large hands and strength moved you as he saw fit.

but he was never a greedy lover, he made sure his woman came first. he made sure you got your pleasure. he groaned a little bit, "so fuckin' pretty." he chuckled a little bit, "don't you agree? my woman is beyond pretty, even beyond beautiful." daniel laid the praise on thick when he fucked you. but you loved it, you loved when he called you all manner of lovely names.

you were his little slut to ruin, but in the sense that no other man could ever compare to him. he was just simply too perfect. even when he left a messy trail of hickies across your neck.

his pace started to stagger and you felt the pleasure curl in your gut. his whined spurred you on as he fucked you deeply. he wanted to make sure that you took all of him. you felt like a perfect dream around his cock as you panted wildly.

"beautiful girl." he purred, "so fucking beautiful."

you whimpered and arched your back a little bit. you felt the thrum of pleasure in the back of your mind. you clung tightly to the pillow and moaned. with a few more heavy thrusts of his hips, you came around his cock. you felt him bruise your softest areas as you finished.

he came soon after, heavy thrusts that left you seeing stars. it was hot for you and both of you were left breathing heavily. you whined a little bit when he pushed his cock into you once more before he pulled out. a gooey string of cum connected your cunt to his cock. and that made daniel shudder.

he pulled out and you laid in his arms. he kissed at your face tenderly and you felt the warmth of love throughout both of you. you smiled against his kisses and he just beamed at you.

a bright smile with all teeth, you cupped his face lovingly. those pearly whites were just on your neck and took sweet bites out of your delicate skin. his smile was blinding and his bites were bruising <3