#I LOVE THEM- *sobs grossly*

[triona-tribblescore]

I just wanna draw them being all soft n stuff okay? :'( <333

[ckret2]

Reading the book I couldn't help but notice how weirdly touchy Bill is when it comes to his previous romantic relationships. He stops himself from talking about his exes and loses his cool whenever the topic is brought up. What's up with that?

Bill is a toxic, controlling person who's perfectly charming and likable (albeit manipulative as the devil) when he's getting his way, but the moment he isn't getting his way, he gets abusive—emotionally, verbally, physically, psychically...

Look at his relationship with Ford: regardless of whether you interpret that as romantic or platonic, Ford is somebody he liked enough that he went on a bender that ended with grossly sobbing in a fast food restaurant when their partnership fell apart; and yet, as much as Bill liked Ford, when Ford refused to do what he asked, Bill had no trouble mangling him, publicly humiliating him, getting him in legal trouble, attempting to emotionally torment his brother, and threatening worse. That's what he does to a person he likes.

Do you think he was any kinder when he didn't like what his lovers did?

I think every one of his relationships ended not just badly, but SPECTACULARLY horribly. "Hours long screaming match" horribly, "break all the furniture" horribly, "quickly and secretly moving out while Bill's distracted" horribly, "looking up how to file a restraining order from the hospital bed" horribly. Bloody Mary ghosting him is probably one of the softest breakups he's had (and I suspect it's because she saw the red flags and ran before Bill could show his worst side).

NONE of those breakups were amicable. All Bill's exes hate his guts—the ones that survived him, anyway.

And I'd bet you anything that how abusive he got correlated with how much he loved them. (And let's not have any "but that isn't REALLY love" nonsense—performing love as an action and feeling love as an emotion are two different things, and abusers are capable of feeling love for someone they think they've got the right to hurt.)

The more he likes this person, the more it matters to him that they stay forever in the little box he's put them in and the farther he's willing to go to ensure they don't defy or leave him. The more he loved them, the more he hurt them, and the more devastating the breakup.

But if he liked them that much, then the fact that it's OBVIOUSLY his fault wouldn't make getting dumped hurt less. Getting dumped is the thing he was trying to prevent by making them too scared to leave!

All Bill's memories of his exes are memories of people he loved telling him how much they detest him and cutting him out of their lives. Of course he doesn't want to talk about it.

Bill says himself, "love is just the pupa stage for hate." In his experience, that's how it always ends.

[solxamber]

On my hands and knees sobbing throwing up combusting into dust signs my soul away to you THAT WAS SO SO SOOOOO CUTEEEEEE GUAYAYYAYYUUUUUAUAGAHHHHHH!!!!!!!!! Poor Rollo thinks hes just being nice meanwhile poor yuu is so used to people digging underneath the bar that he's literally prince charming incarnate. Rollo clearly needs to adjust their standards and do what the villains could not by kissing yuu softly while they take a nap. And also threaten crowley to give them money for food. ANYWAYS!!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR FEEDING ME AND THE 5 OTHER ROLLO FANS THAT SURVIVED THE FAMINE (/j) I OWE YOU MY LIFE!!!!! This message is getting so long, but you deserve to know how awesome your writing is and that I look forward to whatever you post for real. I slide over a crisp 5 maddol and ask for when you feel like it (and if you even want to ofc!!) A part 3 where maybe they're deeper in the relationship and are doing heinous things like m*king out and grimm thinks they should be executed for making him walk into this horror. (He didn't knock. Bc he's grimm. He claimed to be scarred for life until Rollo busted out the premium tuna suddenly we should get married asap) . ANYWAYS SORRY FOR THE LONG RAMBLE. IM BARKING AND CRYING AND EXPLODING AND PROPOSING TO YOU. Signed with love, rollo anon 💗💝💖

Rollo Flamme x reader

i just saw this and this almost made me cry 🫶 also sorry for the very long wait

Part 1 ; Part 2

Rollo was nothing if not diligent. Whether it was reorganizing the shelves at the library, fixing the perpetually squeaky door in Ramshackle, or chastising Grim for yet another snack-induced fire hazard, he was always helping in his quietly intense way. It wasn’t just duty—he genuinely seemed to enjoy making your life easier, which both baffled and warmed you to your core.

You, of course, did what you could to return the favor. Helping him clean up after unruly magic festival events, proofreading his endless notes about anti-magic policies, and gently reminding him to relax when he got that telltale furrow in his brow.

And you were in love.

Like, grossly in love. The kind of love where you found his huffy rants about magical irresponsibility charming and he tolerated Grim's chaos just to spend more time with you. It was a weird, wonderful balance you’d somehow managed to strike.

Which led to this particular evening: you and Rollo, tangled on the old, creaky couch in your room at Ramshackle.

It had started innocently enough. You’d been reviewing a new book he'd brought for you—something philosophical, of course, but he’d chosen it specifically because he thought you’d enjoy it. You were teasing him about his insistence on leaving a handwritten note inside the front cover (“Who even does this, Rollo? It’s adorable, but—seriously?”), and he had flushed in that way that made you want to pinch his cheeks.

Then one thing led to another.

Now, his lips were on yours, one hand cradling your face with the kind of reverence that made your heart twist. His other arm was around your waist, anchoring you against him. Rollo might not have been an experienced romantic, but he made up for it in sheer, focused intensity. When he kissed you, it felt like you were the only thing in the world that mattered to him.

“You’re—mmph—very distracting,” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and tinged with amusement.

You grinned, tugging him closer. “Says the guy who started this.”

His only response was to kiss you again, deeper this time, until your brain was reduced to a pleasant, fizzy blur. The world outside the room ceased to exist. It was just you, him, and the creak of the couch as you shifted closer—

“WHAT IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT IS GOOD AND HOLY?! MY EYES! THEY’RE RUINED!”

Grim’s shrill scream shattered the moment like glass.

You froze, pulling back to see Grim standing in the doorway, paws dramatically covering his eyes. “HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME? ON MY COUCH?”

“Grim, it’s my couch,” you said, face burning.

“You’re the henchhuman; it’s ours by default!” Grim wailed. “And now it’s a place of SIN!”

Rollo, to his credit, had already straightened up, his expression transitioning from flustered to composed in record time. “Grim,” he said, voice calm yet firm, “surely you’ve barged in enough times to anticipate that privacy should be respected.”

“Oh, I respected it,” Grim sniffed. “But my henchhuman clearly has no shame. And you!” He pointed an accusatory paw at Rollo. “I thought you were better than this! But no, you’re—”

Rollo, completely unbothered by the tirade, reached into his bag and produced a can of… premium tuna?

Grim’s rant ground to a halt. His ears perked up as he sniffed the air. “Wait. Is that—?”

“Indeed,” Rollo said smoothly, holding it up like a peace offering. “A gift I intended to give later, but it seems circumstances call for a different approach.”

Grim’s eyes lit up with unrestrained glee. “You know what? I’ve never doubted you for a second, Rollo!” He scurried forward, practically salivating as he swiped the can. “You’re clearly the best thing that’s ever happened to my henchhuman. You two should get married. Tomorrow. I’ll get a priest. I’m sure Crowley owes me a favor.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands as Grim popped the can open with zero regard for decorum. “Grim, you are the worst.”

“Correction: I’m the best,” Grim said, already devouring the tuna with gusto. Between bites, he added, “This guy’s a keeper. Don’t mess it up, henchhuman.”

Rollo’s lips twitched, a hint of amusement breaking through his otherwise composed demeanor. He leaned closer, whispering just loud enough for you to hear, “Shall we take his advice?”

You gave him a playful shove, laughing despite yourself. “Not helping, Rollo.”

But deep down, as Grim devoured his bribe and Rollo sat beside you with that quietly pleased look, you couldn’t deny that the idea didn’t sound all that bad.

The exhaustion of the day had finally caught up to you, and you’d collapsed onto your bed with a sigh of relief. “Wake me up for class, okay?” you mumbled to Rollo, who was sitting at your desk, meticulously organizing the scattered notes you’d left behind.

“I’ll make sure you’re on time,” he replied, his voice carrying that steady assurance you found oddly comforting.

You barely managed a hum of acknowledgment before sleep claimed you, leaving the world behind in a haze of warm, peaceful quiet.

When you stirred again, it wasn’t the sound of your alarm or the creak of the floorboards that woke you. It was something far gentler.

A warm, featherlight pressure on your forehead.

Your eyes fluttered open slowly, and the first thing you saw was Rollo leaning over you, his expression soft in a way that made your heart do an Olympic-level somersault. He was close enough that you could see the slight flush on his cheeks, though his composure never wavered.

“Good morning,” he said softly, his voice a gentle murmur. “It’s time to get ready for class.”

You blinked at him, your still-sleepy brain struggling to process what had just happened. “Did you… just kiss me awake?”

His blush deepened, but he stood his ground, meeting your gaze with quiet confidence. “You looked so peaceful. I thought it would be a more pleasant way to wake you than simply shaking your shoulder.”

Your heart melted on the spot. If there was a scale for romantic gestures, this one had just broken it.

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, though your voice betrayed how utterly smitten you were.

“Perhaps,” he replied, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “But you didn’t seem to mind.”

You didn’t bother arguing because he was absolutely right. Instead, you reached out, tugging him down for a proper kiss this time.

When you finally pulled away, you smirked at his flustered expression. “If you keep this up, I’m going to start napping more often.”

He chuckled softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “If that’s the case, I’ll have to be even more diligent about ensuring you don’t oversleep.”

You laughed, warmth blooming in your chest as you sat up and stretched. “Thanks for waking me, Rollo. Really.”

“Of course,” he said, his tone earnest as ever. “It’s the least I can do.”

The man was going to ruin you with how thoughtful he was. And as you got ready for class with a lingering smile on your face, you couldn’t help but think that waking up like this every day wouldn’t be so bad.

It started with something simple. You were both sitting in the courtyard of the chapel, enjoying a quiet moment together. The sun was setting, casting a warm glow over everything, and Rollo was, as usual, the picture of composure. He was reading a book—some historical text you’d never have the patience for—but his attention drifted when he noticed you staring at the horizon, lost in thought.

“Are you cold?” he asked, setting his book aside and leaning slightly closer.

You blinked out of your reverie, shaking your head with a soft smile. “No, I’m fine.”

He studied you for a moment, then pulled his scarf from around his neck and gently draped it over your shoulders anyway. “Just in case,” he murmured.

It wasn’t anything extraordinary—just a scarf—but the gesture made your heart swell. The scarf smelled faintly of lavender, and the warmth of it felt like an extension of Rollo himself.

“Thanks, Rollo,” you said, voice soft.

He nodded, but when he saw the way your smile lingered, something shifted in his expression. His usual composed demeanor softened into something… almost reverent.

“You deserve this,” he said, his tone uncharacteristically tender.

“Huh?” You tilted your head at him, confused.

“You deserve to be cared for,” he clarified, meeting your gaze with an intensity that made your breath hitch. “You give so much of yourself to others. It’s only natural that someone should do the same for you.”

You stared at him, heart racing. “Rollo, I… That’s really sweet.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, though not at you. “It’s concerning that such basic decency stands out to you,” he muttered, almost to himself. “What kind of environment is this school fostering?”

The thought of Rollo, grimacing at the thought of NRC’s questionable population, made you burst into laughter. “I mean, you’ve met Grim, right? The standards here are subterranean.”

Rollo’s expression softened again when he saw how amused you were. “Even so,” he said, taking your hands in his with surprising gentleness, “you should never feel as though you’re asking for too much when you expect kindness or respect. It’s what you’re owed.”

Your heart did a little somersault, and you couldn’t help but giggle, ridiculously touched. “Stop, you’re going to make me cry,” you teased, though the slight quiver in your voice betrayed how close you were to actually tearing up.

He smiled faintly, leaning closer until his forehead nearly touched yours. “If you cry, I’ll simply have to dry your tears,” he said, his voice low and earnest. “Though I’d rather see you smiling.”

You let out another helpless laugh, pulling your hands free so you could lightly swat at his arm. “Stop being so romantic! I can’t handle this!”

Rollo chuckled softly, pleased with your reaction. “If it makes you happy, then I’ll consider it a worthwhile effort.”

And he meant it. He was genuinely, utterly content to see you so touched, so happy. Yet, somewhere in the back of his mind, a quiet but fierce determination grew. The villains and miscreants of NRC may not have treated you with the respect you deserved, but he would make it his mission to ensure you never doubted your worth again.

Masterlist

[paintingwhiteceilings]

❃S/O being drunk/tipsy around Seventeen❃

A/N: So I may have gotten massively drunk last weekend as the region I live in celebrates a specific type of carnival that goes on for five days straight. I might have, maybe, drank a little bit too much during the music festival day and as I was drunkenly stumbling around, I wondered what it would be like to get drunk around svt.

Also, am I the only one who has a K-pop idols I want to get drunk with bias line? Currently, my list consists of Lee Know, Xiumin, Jin and San (to name a few). Just wondering whether that is a normal thing to have or whether I should be concerned about my sanity.

Scoups/Seungcheol

❀ Chances are that if you are drunk around him, so is he. Coups loves a good party on the occasion and isn't a stranger to clubbing. However, where he can hold his liquor and knows his limits, you may have forgotten about yours. Part of him adores your clinginess and finds you adorable; thus, he lets you be your embarrassingly drunk self, laughing at your shameless and less-than-stellar dance moves. As long as you are in the safe, not-too-drunk zone, he will let you have fun and try to match your drinking pace.

❀ However, the moment he notices that you are crossing the line into way too drunk territory, the responsible part of him will kick in, and he will chase you around with water. He will get very serious, going all alpha leader on you and doing whatever it takes for you to take a sip of water.  

❀ No amount of cuteness or begging will convince him to stop his getting you sober plight; you can flirt all you want with him, but once he is concerned for your well-being, it is difficult to persuade him to let you keep on drinking. He is definitely not above cutting the night short either, taking you home instead. If you do as much as refuse, he will throw you over his shoulder and walk out like you weigh nothing. 

Jeonghan

❀ To the poor soul who decided to get drunk around this man, I hope that he will never feel the urge to show those embarrassing videos that he took of you to those around you. Although he will, of course, keep his eye on you to prevent you from getting progressively drunker, he is enjoying you being drunk way too much. He will have his camera out the entire time and instigate you to do something embarrassing that sober-you would very much regret.  

❀ He has an entire folder dedicated to your drunken mishaps, whether it is a five-minute video of you slurring your words as you argue why cows are grossly underappreciated when it comes to favourite animals or you crying as you hug a tree, sobbing that they do not receive enough love. Jeonghan cherishes every single photo and video he took of you being drunk, frequently rewatching them to cheer himself up.

❀ Honestly, it never fails to make you regret drinking around this man because he has no problem using it as blackmail against you. Whenever you try to argue with him during game nights, he will subtly reference one of your entertaining escapades, teasing you that anyone who repeatedly drunkenly asked whether turning a phone on aeroplane mode would give it the ability to fly is in no position to argue with him.  

Joshua

❀ He is so unbelievably gentle with you. The moment he senses that you are getting ab bit too tipsy or borderline drunk, he will make sure to switch to water for himself instead. Although he enjoys the occasional drink, he wants to make sure that he is able to take care of you, letting you freely drink whilst he makes sure you do so safely.

❀ He is genuinely the sweetest, listening to all your drunken ramblings with a fond smile on his face. Whenever you are not paying attention to him, he will secretly switch out your alcoholic beverage for water, cheekily gaslighting you into believing that it is still the same drink by taking a sip himself and pretending that you are imagining things when exclaim it no longer tastes like vodka.

❀ When you guys get home, he will go into full caregiver mode, helping you remove your makeup, making sure that you didn’t forget to plug in your phone for the night and laying out your comfiest pyjamas for you to slip into after a brief shower. He will tuck you into bed after making sure that you drank enough water for the night, preparing a glass of water and some medication for you to take in the morning when the hangover kicks in, before turning in himself.

Jun

❀ The moment you enter your shared apartment drunk, Jun feels torn between laughing at your ridiculous actions spurred by your drunkenness and helping you sober up. Seeing you put your hand in the fish tank as you try to pet your now traumatised goldfish because you felt bad for never petting it before is hilarious to him. He is curious about what else you might do, following you around as you try to do more ridiculous things. He is thoroughly invested in seeing where your drunken brain is taking you next and what else you will get up to if he lets you roam around.

❀ Jun will entertain your drunken childlike curiosity, using it to finally be able to do the totally safe experiments you usually tell him off for. The two of you will engage in a plethora of dubious food experiments, mixing different drinks to find out whether they will taste any good together and go to the supermarket to buy a dozen different ice cream flavours in order to rank them all. Where usually you would scold him for trying to see whether a bath can really overflow, drunken-you would join him in watching the water level rise slowly.

❀ However, he simultaneously will be very caring, preparing a hearty meal to combat your drunkenness. He might not be the best chef in Seventeen, but he can cook up a couple of meals that help with absorbing the alcohol, preparing one of them to help you sober up a bit. He will ensure that you eat plenty of it and drink enough water before you go to bed.

Hoshi/Soonyoung

❀ In no universe is this man not drunker than you are when the two of you go out drinking. Hoshi’s tolerance is so incredibly low that he could get drunk on the smell of alcohol alone. The other members have to babysit the both of you, not even for your own safety but for those around you. He would be the type of person who, when you buy your shots, forgets that they are not his and, in his drunken stupor, take them when you turn around to pay. You are too drunk to notice either, not that it matters much, as you finish most of his drinks on accident, too.

❀ The dance floor is a danger zone when you two step onto it. Neither of you cares much about dancing decently; instead, the two of you have a competition going on who can come up with the most creative, shameless dance moves. The dance battle only ends when one of you accidentally knocks over a slow-dancing couple during an emotional ballad.

❀ The other members will ultimately have to step in, guiding you back home before either of you does something illegal. It is easier said than done; the two of you are so incredibly drunk that you decide to pose and take pictures with random statues you spot on your way home. Once home, they try to get you both to drink water but miserably fail as Hoshi completely breaks down, professing his undying love for you between sobs. The night ends with the two of you in each other’s arms, crying about how much you love each other.

Wonwoo

❀ Considering he doesn’t really drink himself, he will make sure you are not exceeding your drinking limits, babysitting you the entire time. However, where he usually makes sure to stop you from getting drunk the moment he notices you are getting tipsy, he hadn’t anticipated that the dinner with the members would turn into an out-of-control drinking party. When they suggested doing some drinking games whilst waiting for the food, he had assumed they would have gone easy on you; instead, you had lost so many of the drinking games that you were borderline drunk by the time that the food reached to your table.

❀ Throughout the dinner, Wonwoo tries to get you to drink as much water as he can. Your glass doesn’t stay empty for long as, rather than eating himself, he is way too focused on making sure that it is constantly filled with water. You have barely swallowed your food when he puts another piece of meat on your plate, hoping that the grease will help you sober up somewhat.

❀ When the members insist on playing more drinking games during and after the dinner, he initially refuses on your behalf. If you insist on continuing, he will awe the members by taking every punishment shot going your way for you. Unfortunately for him, the members have finally figured out a way to get Wonwoo to join their drinking festivities, using you as bait to get the usually introverted member to drink.

Woozi/Jihoon

❀ As another member who rarely, if ever, drinks, he always tells you to be careful when you do. When you get invited out for drinks with the members, he fully trusts them to keep an eye on you for his sake as he is stuck in the studio, having to finish a song. What he is not expecting, however, is for them to call him at 1 AM to come pick you up, as they may have grossly overestimated your alcohol tolerance. He can hear drunk-you brabble about how much you miss him in the background of the phone call as he talks to the members about coming over to take you home.

❀ With a big sigh, he makes his way over to the pub you guys had been drinking at, realizing that it might not have been the smartest to have the members who frequently drink and have built up quite the tolerance take you drinking. He is not necessarily angry at you or the members; instead, he is disappointed in himself for not having been there with you to ensure you would not go past your drinking limits.

❀ He is incredibly gentle with you when he finally arrives at the pub, scooping you up in his arms, ready to take you home. He will hear no apology on your part or the members, reassuring you that it happens and that although he would like for it to be prevented in the future, he understands that getting drunk happens. At home, he will be so soft as he makes sure to give you whatever you need. He will make sure not to leave your side, helping you shower and giving you plenty of cuddles in bed to make you feel better.

DK/Seokmin

❀ Another member who is probably just as drunk as you are, if not more. He would be getting drunk with you, sharing most of his drinks with you to the point where neither of you remembers which drink belongs to whom. He is definitely enabling your drunk behaviour and perhaps even the cause of it because whenever he picks up his shot of soju, he makes sure to give you one, too.

❀ He will rope you into doing something stupid, putting on one of his infamous skits with you as the second lead. You don’t know where he got a wig from, but he is fully engrossed in his role as Sandra, the woman who is about to be eaten by zombies. Where sober-you would be mortified by his behaviour, you are currently too drunk to care, down to join him as one of the vicious zombies. It doesn’t help that a small part of him still feels embarrassed about his actions and keeps taking a swig of the soju bottle left on your now-unoccupied table, making him progressively drunker as the performance continues.

❀ At the very least, your performance will be enjoyed by a considerably large, amused audience who decide to pay for some of your drinks in appreciation, making it a relatively cheap night out. Neither of you will be able to do much the next day as both of you completely forgot to drink water before going to bed, too busy re-enacting the best moments of your play, resulting in a massive hangover. As a result, the two of you spend most of the next day cuddled up in bed; DK claims that your hugs are the best cure for his crushing headache.

Mingyu

❀ Mingyu sometimes forgets that taller people tend to be able to drink more compared to those who are more vertically challenged; thus, he accidentally got you very drunk when he dragged you to go clubbing with him and the members. That being said, he is not feeling too guilty about it because where sober-you would try to limit the PDA in front of the other members, drunk-you completely forget they exist. Mingyu is on cloud nine when you start to touch him more than usual, thinking he has officially gone to heaven as you hug him close and refuse to let go.

❀ He is giggling uncontrollably, as you are all over him, insisting on slow-dancing to every song that comes on, even if it is to the most upbeat techno song. Although he makes sure that you don’t get too drunk, he will not make any attempts to sober you up immediately either, enjoying your attention way too much. He, for sure, will take at least fifty photos and videos where you are kissing his cheek and drunkenly rambling on and on about how much you love him, saving them for a rainy day. You are the cutest person alive to him, and he seriously considers always bringing you along from now on.

❀ Once home, he will make sure that you are fully provided for, cheekily suggesting to shower together as he is incredibly ‘worried’ that you might slip in the shower in your drunken state. Part of Mingyu is slightly sad to see you sober up when he hands you your tenth glass of water in an attempt to prevent a nasty hangover.

The8/Minghao

❀ There is no way in hell that Minghao is not watching you like a hawk when the two of you go drinking, taking away your drinks when he notices that you are getting a bit too out-of-control drunk. You always try to argue with him when he does, whining that you, the adult, know your limits and don’t need him to babysit you. Thus, to prove you wrong and to get you to stop arguing with him whenever he stops you from drinking, he makes a deal with you; you get to drink however much you want, and he won’t interfere with drunk you whatsoever.

❀ This is how you end up drunk out of your mind at one of the members’ birthday parties, challenging Seungkwan to an arm wrestling match after you had tried to beat a drunk and crying Hoshi in a dance battle without much success. You even competed in Scoups’ and Mingyu’s beer pong competition, making you drunker than you already were. Minghao hovers nearby, ready to jump in when necessary, keeping a close eye on your questionable actions. His phone is in his hands as he quietly films you from a distance, ready to present sober-you with the consequences of your drunken decisions.

❀ Nevertheless, he will interfere whenever you are about to do something too embarrassing; sure, he wants you to learn that you do stupid things when wasted, but he does not want you to be relentlessly teased by the other members for your intoxicated mishaps. Minghao will immediately take you back home and sober you up when he thinks that he has let you go on for long enough and that he has collected enough evidence to prove his claims. The next morning, he will lovingly confront you with reality, regardless of whether or not you are nursing a hangover, after which you agree that maybe, sometimes, he might have a point.

Seungkwan

❀ Seungkwan is honestly one of the best people to get drunk around. Sure, he drinks himself, but the moment he notices that he is getting tipsy, he slows down his drinking. He has had to deal with the members being drunk so often that he has developed successful ways of dealing with drunk people, making him well-equipped to deal with you. The moment you sheepishly admit that you are slightly drunk when you two are having dinner with the members, he will do his famous drunk check, rubbing over your forehead, making you giggle uncontrollably, before concluding that, indeed, you are gone.  

❀ The entire evening, he will treat you like a little kid, listening to your drunken ramblings and providing you with sassy and funny remarks in exchange. He loves that you are laughing even more at his jokes than usual, and he will not miss a chance to elicit another fit of laughter out of you by doing something stupid. Seungkwan is not above embarrassing himself as long as it means that you are entertained.

❀ Honestly, I can’t imagine Seungkwan letting you do anything embarrassing. He will make sure that you sober up a little, providing you with water every now and then, and talk you out of whatever stupid plan you were about to execute. The moment he spots you climbing onto the bar, ready to execute your and Hoshi’s well-choreographed but slightly ridiculous dance routine, he will expertly redirect your attention to something else, making you completely forget about what you were about to do. As funny as he knows it would be for you to embarrass yourself, he knows you would be mortified the next day when you find out what you did the previous night and is fully committed to preventing that from happening. He would never let you do anything you would regret sober.

❀ Still, if you refuse to listen to him or you manage to do something stupid when he is momentarily distracted, he would not let you live it down.

Vernon

❀ Similarly to Jun, he is highly amused by your drunken escapades, curious to see what you will do. Where Jun, however, will join you in your antics, Vernon will mostly observe you, laughing his chair-screeching laugh as he does. He is not going to interfere whatsoever and lets you do whatever comes to your drunken mind, highly amused by whatever you are doing. Unless you are doing something illegal or dangerous, he is letting you do whatever your drunken brain convinces you to do.

❀ Getting drunk around Vernon means providing him with an arsenal of slightly embarrassing pictures that will be stored for later use. His phone is in his hand the whole evening, and he will make sure to snap thousands of images of your intoxicated self as you pose for him. You completely forget about him taking the pictures until he starts using them as stickers and memes in your private chat. Most of his reactions to your messages are you pulling a weird face. It wouldn’t have been that bad if he hadn’t started using them in the Seventeen group chat and as his phone’s background.

❀ As Vernon doesn’t strike me as someone who drinks often, he wouldn’t really be much help in sobering you up and making sure you won’t have too bad of a headache in the morning. Instead of making sure you drink enough water and get enough sleep, he convinces you to stay up late to watch a movie with him, entertained by your drunken commentary throughout, most of which he records. Needless to say, when morning arrives, you wake up with a lot of regrets.

Dino/Chan

❀ Dino is the king of being drunk; the amount of stories this dude has where he is wasted and doing something questionable are too many to count. Of course, he will be drunk with you, and of course, you two will create the best, most amusing drunk story ever. He had tried so hard to take the punishment shots for you whenever you lost a drinking game, not wanting you to get too drunk, resulting in both of you being incredibly intoxicated and hyping the other up to do some questionable stuff. The members tried to supervise the both of you, but you managed to escape when they got distracted for merely a second.

❀ In retrospect, your memories are kind of hazy on what had actually happened that night. In flashes, you remember a couple of rich people inviting you guys along, a boat, a garden gnome and something about a museum. Somehow, at the end of the night, you two end up in a fancy hotel, holding a garden gnome under your arm, all expenses paid, with the staff congratulating you on your engagement as you sport a very cheap plastic ring on your ring finger.

❀ In the morning, the two of you are nursing massive hangovers, utterly confused about where you are and how you managed to get there. Dino sees the thirty-plus missed calls from the members, knowing he is in a world of trouble, and someone mysteriously saved under the name Bob the Magician. The ring is so tight around your finger that you barely manage to get it off. Still, neither of you is planning on leaving any time soon, enjoying the luxury hotel the next couple of days as you try to piece together what transpired that night after ensuring the members that you are not dead in a ditch somewhere.

masterlist

[dirtyvulture]

Knight Falls - Part 1

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Wolverine!Reader

18+ only, read at your own risk

Summary: Your perfect life with Natasha isn't meant to stay that way with the Red Room still looking for her.

Word count: 4296

AN: The long-anticipated sequel to my "Darkest Knight" fic is here! Get ready for the ride!

“Come on, Pryde. I know you can hit harder than that,” you taunt, circling the teenager.

“These gloves are so heavy!” Kitty pants, barely able to lift her fists up to shoulder height. 

“So what if they add on a few pounds?” You jab your own red foam-wrapped fist at her shoulder and Kitty goes spinning away.

“Ow!” she whines dramatically.

“Give me two good shots and you’re done,” you say.

“Fine, fine.” She shakes her head as she bounces on her feet, mirroring your posture in the ring. The rest of the students, some of them sitting on the mats and others standing anxiously, close to crossing over the peeling line of white tape that separates the spectators from the participants. 

“Go Kitty!” one of her friends shouts encouragingly.

“Shut up, Jubilee,” Kitty hisses under her breath that only you can hear.

“I’m not waiting around all day,” you announce, taking a dramatic swing at half-speed. Kitty ducks and shoves at your chest, but she has nowhere near the amount of strength needed to budge your 200-plus-pound frame. “Not a good move,” you comment, bringing your fist around again. 

Kitty squeals and phases; your arm passes through her shoulder and you stumble through her as you lose your balance. 

“Hey! No powers,” you growl, turning to face her again and feeling the pointed tip of her elbow crack into your cheek instead.

“Ow, OW!” Kitty screams, jumping up and down as she holds her elbow with her other hand.

“Kitty, are you okay?” one of the other students calls out.

“Let me see,” you say, getting up and pulling the velcro straps of Kitty’s gloves to take them off her hands. “You’re okay. Don’t start crying on me now.”

“Why is your head so hard?” Kitty practically sobs.

You grumble while you examine her elbow, which looks perfectly normal besides a small red spot at the tip. This new generation of students were so soft sometimes. “Pull it together, kid. You’re fine. Jubilee, go with her to get some ice from the nurse’s office. Class dismissed.”

Jubilee comes forward to grab the dramatic Kitty and drag her out, while the rest of the students quickly funnel after them. You grab a mop to wipe up the mats and are just about halfway through the chore when someone knocks at the door.

“What?”

“Hey, Y/N!” It’s Ororo. 

“Hey, Storm.”

“I heard you sent Kitty to the nurse’s office,” she says, walking into the training room with a chuckle.

“She did that to herself,” you correct. “I told her no powers, but you know the kids around here listen to every other word I say.”

“They love you and you know it,” Ororo responds. 

“Well, they don’t act like it.” 

She chuckles. “I can finish up mopping in here. The professor wants to see you in his office.”

“Oh.” You feel like you’ve been summoned to the principal’s office.

“It doesn’t have to do with Kitty. Something else with Nat,” Ororo adds when she sees the shadow of unease cross your face.

“Right.” You pass her the mop. “Thanks, I guess. Don’t miss that spot in the corner.”

“I won’t.”

You leave the training room, stomping down the long hallways. A million thoughts race through your head. Lately, Natasha had been grossly obsessed with tracking down the Red Room, to a level that it irked you the moment you heard the words. While you had promised that you would help in whatever endeavor she pursued, you were still uncomfortable at the thought of her running headlong into that danger, when you two had barely escaped it. 

You had fallen back into a routine of teaching at the school and keeping some of these unruly students in check, but you were actually quite fond of it. It was nice not to be hunted like an animal or have to prepare for a fight any second. Plus, you got to spend as much time as you wanted with Natasha, and you couldn’t remember the last person you had met who had shown you such a fierce love and devotion. You loathed the idea that it could all be taken away from you in an instant, and wanted to enjoy it for as long as you could without interruption.

“Excuse me, Miss Y/N?”

“Huh?” You stop and look down to find a small child standing in front of you suddenly. “What’s up, kid?” 

The child holds out a stapled stack of papers. “Can you help me with my history homework?” he asks. “Mr. Scott said you’re really old, so you probably remember some of this stuff like it was yesterday–”

You curse Scott out under your breath. “Uh, sure, kid. Just give me five minutes, okay?”

“Okay!” 

The boy goes to sit down on the couch where his feet don’t even touch the floor and you hurry to get to Professor Xavier’s office. You rap hard on the door, pushing it open before he has a second to let you in. Natasha is there already, her laptop sitting on his desk with a map open. 

“Hello. You sent for me?” you ask, a strange feeling of anticipation creeping up the back of your neck. 

“Yes, Natasha did actually,” Professor Xavier says. “How is Kitty doing?”

“Oh, uh…she’s fine,” you say as Natasha glances at you suspiciously. “You know she has a thing for theatrics.”

Professor Xavier chuckles. 

You wait for one of them to explain why they’ve asked you here, annoyed that your time is being wasted when you have other things to do. You take a tiny breath to calm your impatience. It’s imperceptible to Natasha, but Professor Xavier notices right away. Nothing goes unmissed by him. 

“Natasha wanted to tell you–” he starts.

“He found it!” Natasha interrupts, her excitement uncontainable.

“Found what?” you ask.

She spins around her laptop, showing you a Google Maps view of a house set on a plot of land that reminded you of a farm. 

“It’s in Saint Petersburg, Russia,” Natasha rushes to explain, but you’ve been dropped into the middle of a conversation with no context. “I wanted to tell you sooner, but I didn’t know how, but the professor says if we leave in the next day or two, we can catch–”

“Hold on,” you stop her. “What are you talking about? What’s so special about this house?”

Natasha suddenly hesitates, anxiety radiating from her expression. You already know the answer.

“This is the key to the Red Room,” Professor Xavier says.

You grind your teeth together. You had talked to him privately about this and he had clearly gone against your wishes. 

I thought we had a deal, Chuck, your voice snarls in your head.

Let me explain, Y/N, Professor Xavier’s voice echoes back through his telepathy.

Good, because I’m not going anywhere until you do. You cross your arms over your chest to show him you’re standing your ground.

Natasha looks back and forth at the two of you in bewilderment, obviously engaged in some kind of mental argument she wasn’t privy to.

“Do you mind giving us a minute alone, Natasha?” Professor Xavier says out loud.

“Oh, uh, okay.” Natasha picks up her laptop and walks towards the door. She reaches out and brushes your arm, but you don’t even look at her, all of your focus now on the professor. Even though Natasha closed the door, you can hear her footsteps just behind the wall and worry that she’ll eavesdrop. But it doesn’t really matter if she does; if anything it’ll save you a conversation later.

“I told you not to indulge her with that Red Room shit,” you snap at the professor.

“She came to me,” he responds, with a frustrating amount of calmness.

“And I told you to give her the go-around.” As perfect as Natasha was, and as much as you loved her, this had been a growing point of contention in your relationship. You had voiced your displeasure with her obsession with the Red Room before, but now she had taken it too far. 

“Does she not deserve peace?” 

“She’s happy here with me,” you argue, before it dawns on you. “...Isn’t she?”

Professor Xavier looks away from you. 

“Shit,” you mumble, wondering how you could be so dense to miss the signs. Your anger melts into concern now. “What is she planning? To find this place and blow them up once and for all?”

The professor shrugs. “Close enough.”

“Well, you know why I don’t want her to do that. Right?” you ask him. You refuse to be the “bad guy” in all of this. You mean well for Natasha and want to keep her safe. Why did that make you the asshole here?

“You cannot hold her hostage here,” the professor says. He is so calm it actually makes you even more angry. 

“Do not say that,” you warn. “I’m not holding her hostage. She can leave at any time she wants.”

“No, she can’t. Not while the Red Room is still hunting for her.” 

“You don’t think I can protect her?” The blow to your ego is frighteningly painful. 

“It’s not about whether or not you can protect her. You know she’s not comfortable relying on you twenty-four-seven to be her guardian angel,” Professor Xavier says.

You want to sink through the floor, hating that you aren’t good enough to protect the person you love. It was an ugly insecurity that reminded you of one of the lowest moments in your extended lifespan, and you have to clench your jaw and stare at the floor to hold yourself back from a more visceral reaction.

He senses your sudden sadness and says, “It’s nothing you can help, Y/N. You know she won’t truly be happy until they’re gone.”

“I know,” you whisper, hating the weight of the truth. In some ways, Natasha was just as stubborn as you were. So you couldn’t fault her for it, but it upset you to know that you still hadn’t done enough for her. Even after leaving your home, taking her cross country back to the school you had avoided for over a year, Natasha still wasn’t happy with your sacrifices. 

“It’s not like that,” the professor says, hearing your thoughts. 

“Sure feels that way,” you grumble. 

“You need to talk to her.”

“She won’t listen to me.”

“Then why don’t you try listening to her?” 

Your mouth sets in a hard line. You hate the self-righteous way Professor Xavier talks to you sometimes. “Okay, okay,” you dismiss, although not sure how much you’ll actually end up following his advice. Life would be a lot easier for you if you could read minds the way he could.

“Y/N–”

“We’re done. Someone needs help with their history homework.” You march out of his office before he can protest further. Natasha is still hovering by the door, where she had probably been soaking in every word of the conversation.

“Y/N–” she tries, reaching out for your arm again. You shake her off.

“I know you heard all that,” you snap, internally cringing at how she shrinks away from you. “I’ll deal with you later.”

***********************************************************************

You’re in an awful mood the rest of the day and Natasha actively avoids you. It’s how you expected to react so you’re not very concerned, until you don’t see her (or Ororo) at dinner. When you come out of the shower and Natasha is still not back in your room, you finally decide to take initiative to find her. Predictably, you trace her scent down the hall to Ororo’s room. You hear their whispers quiet as you approach the door, suddenly embarrassed to announce your presence. 

You raise your fist to knock, when the door swings open. Ororo is standing there, glaring at you like a scorned mother. Natasha is sitting on her bed with crossed legs. You can sense her frustration with you, but she hides it well on her face.

“Uh…I was wondering where you were,” you start lamely. 

“Are you ready to talk now?” Natasha asks, surprising you with her boldness. 

“Sure.” You wonder if she’s going to move the conversation somewhere private or have it right in front of Ororo. But something tells you she expected you to come find her here. It made you happy that she viewed Storm as a safe space and someone she could confide in–even if it was about something you did to upset her. “Uh, what did you want to talk to me about earlier?”

“Are you going to listen this time? Because I’ve been trying to bring it up to you for weeks, and you always push me away,” Natasha accuses. It takes you back how upfront she is with you. What had Ororo said to give her the confidence to talk to you this way?

“Yes, I’m listening.” You feel strangely vulnerable with hers and Ororo’s judgmental eyes on you. “I…” You take a deep breath, not sure why this is so painful for you to say. “I’m sorry if I came across as not caring or being dismissive about you.”

“You know how important this is to me, don’t you?” Natasha asks, her voice quiet and quivering. 

“Yes, I do,” you say.

“I can’t be mad at you for being upset,” she admits. “You have everything you could ask for here. And I almost do, too. But you’re free, Y/N, through and through. I’m not. Even if I have your protection, or Storm’s, or the professor’s, or everyone else’s. It would never be enough.”

Your heart pangs painfully to hear this confession from her mouth. 

“It’s not a personal attack on you, Y/N,” Ororo says, reaching out and patting your shoulder.

“I know,” you lie. “But what’s so special about that house the professor showed you?”

“He said that’s how we find the Red Room,” Natasha says, making direct eye contact with you and you feel like you’re going to wither away under her gaze.

“Is the Red Room that house?” you ask, wondering why the answer had been so obviously sitting in front of you all this whole time.

“We’re not totally sure, but he said that’s where we–I–need to start if I want to find it.” You don’t miss the way she initially includes you in her statement. Whether or not she wants you with her, and whether or not you truly believe in this mission of hers like she does, you aren’t going to let her tackle this alone.

“And what are you going to do once you find the Red Room?” you ask. 

“Free the rest of the Widows and Wolf Spiders,” Natasha says. “And kill Dreykov.”

You assume this “Dreykov” person is the one in charge of the Red Room. You would have to look into his profile, but you already knew he was not someone to be toyed with. He had an army of extremely well-trained agents, and although you had managed to thwart his attempts at capture multiple times, he seemed to learn with each experience and there was the frightening possibility he could eventually find a way to overpower all of your defenses and kill Natasha and yourself.

“You’re going to kill Dreykov?” you ask. It’s a strange thought that Natasha, this shy and wholesome young woman whom you are completely taken with, has it in her to take a life. She probably has before–you’ve never exactly asked–but you know the innocence that is lost is something that will never come back. If Natasha’s crossed that bridge before, you have no right to stop her again, but if she hasn’t, you want to make sure this isn’t something she’ll regret.

“Yes.” Natasha doesn’t even blink as she stares you down. You admire her tenacity, her stubbornness, her commitment, even if you do think it’s a bit misguided. “I know you don’t want me to go after him,” she starts, “But I’m not going to hide and be scared of him forever.”

“You shouldn’t have to, darling–” you say, but she keeps going.

“You’re all still on his radar and if anything happened to you, or Storm, or the professor, or the kids here because of me…” She trails off and you stay silent.

“I’m not going to ask you to come with me. You’ve given enough sacrifices for me.” Natasha takes a deep breath and you hear her heartbeat quicken. “I have to do this, Y/N,” she says softly. “For me, for the ones he still has in his control, and the ones he’s trying to get to next.”

You know what that was like–vaguely. At some point during your lengthy lifespan, you had been held against your will by a shady government program who experimented on you like a guinea pig. You remember the fear and hatred you had for the staff, and the helplessness that prevented you from acting out for years. Although you eventually ended up escaping yourself and helping a few of the other unfortunate souls escape in the process, sometimes you wished it had been someone else who had been your savior. If Natasha was trying to be that for the people under Dreykov’s control, you wouldn’t stop her. 

“Okay,” you finally say, and you see the shadow of defeat in Natasha’s eyes. She thinks you’re going to let her walk away without a fight. But you won’t. You’ll be there alongside her the whole way. “When do we leave?”

Her face brightens in disbelief now. 

Ororo grins triumphantly.

***********************************************************************

You hitch the strap of your backpack higher up your shoulder. Natasha had been both shocked and awed at your ability to pack for an entire week in a single bag. She, on the other hand, was bringing two luggages and a backpack. 

“Hold on, Nat, your bag is open–” you say as she spins around, looking for which pocket you’ve pointed out. 

“Y/N? Miss Nat?” a voice startles you. “Where are you two going? Is it true you’re leaving again?” 

You turn slowly to see Marie glaring at you with her arms crossed over her chest. “Uh…yeah,” you respond. Natasha looks away, hiding her guilty expression. “We have some things we need to take care of. But we’ll be back as soon as we’re done,” you explain.

“I don’t want you to leave,” Marie pouts. 

“I know.” You wish there had been more time to properly warn the kids about your unexpected leave. But, it was usually better this way. “We’ll be back soon, though.”

“Will you?” she presses. You know your concept of time is much different from others’. A whole year could sometimes just feel like a long hour. 

“Yes,” you assure, thinking for a moment. You reach up to your neck and unclip the set of dog tags you have on. You lift Marie’s gloved hand and gently pool the chain in her palm. “Because I’ll be back for this,” you say. “So don’t lose them.”

“I won’t.” Marie looks at Natasha. “Please take care of her for us, Miss Nat.”

“Of course.” Natasha pats your shoulder affectionately while you roll your eyes. “I’ll bring her back before you can miss her.”

***********************************************************************

It’s hard to be away from the safety of the mansion for the first time in a long time. Ororo volunteered to fly the Blackbird (since the professor didn’t trust you to take it alone) and it was nice to have her company for the long flight to Russia. But she was only planning on dropping you two off to do your investigation–it might look too suspicious if a group of X-Men were waiting out for Dreykov and his Widows.

Natasha bounces in her seat excitedly as the Blackbird takes a dive through the clouds. You’re more anxious than excited, not really sure what to expect. The house had looked basic enough, but knowing of its connection to the feared Red Room widened the hole in your stomach. 

“Call me if you need anything,” Ororo says as she lowers the ramp for the two of you to run down. 

“Thanks, Ro!” you call, hurrying to keep up with Natasha, who is already on the ground, fighting to stay upright against the winds from the jet. You jump out, the soft grass sponging under your boots. Judging from the smells–or lack of them–this place has been abandoned for a long time. Still, you’re not racing to make entry, and you have to remind Natasha to slow down as she speeds towards the house. There could be some kind of trap set up and you aren’t blinded with excitement and curiosity like Natasha is.

“Nat! Slow down!” you yell, almost jogging to keep up with her as she reaches the front door.

“It’s unlocked!” she responds, pushing it open and disappearing inside.

“Well don’t go in–” But your words go unheeded. “Nat!” you grumble, your heart skipping a beat as you rush after her. Your footsteps are heavy on the front porch as you burst through the door, looking around wildly. 

The house is furnished as if someone had just stepped out with plans on returning, but never did. Paintings hang crookedly on the walls, a shelf full of used books collecting dust. A single window has been cracked open, the curtains around it filthy as they flutter with the wind. Despite the size of the house, you can sense that it was only ever occupied by a single person at a time, her scent well-faded, but there is a very faint note of familiarity that you swear you’ve smelled before. But before you can investigate further, you hear movement from another room and remember you need to find Natasha.

“Nat, where are–” You freeze when you see her standing alone in the kitchen, staring at a framed photo on the table. “Is this a trap?” you ask, holding your breath and clenching your fists.

“My mother lived here,” Natasha whispers, reaching out to brush her fingers on the frame before taking it in her hand. 

“Huh?” you ask, sensing the wave of emotion in her voice.

“This…is my family.” She picks up the picture frame with reverence, looking at it with shimmering eyes. You approach her slowly, looking over her shoulder at the picture. There’s four people: a large, bearded man, his arm wrapped around a beautiful dark-haired woman, and two children, the oldest probably not even in her teens, with blue streaks in her hair while the smaller one was blonde with chubby cheeks. You can tell immediately that Natasha is the child with blue hair, her eyes reflecting the same playful energy you still see in them today.

“Nat,” you say, reaching out to put your hand on her arm. 

“I think my mother lived here,” she says, looking around the kitchen fondly. “I don’t know about my father…and I don’t know about Yelena.”

“Yelena?”

“My sister.” She taps on the blonde girl in the photo. “We’re not…a real family, I guess you could say. The Red Room put us all together for an undercover assignment, but we all ended up loving each other like a real family. It was the most normal three years of my life.” She pauses, clearly lost in her thoughts. You’re not really sure what to say, having not expected this to turn into an emotional throwback for her. 

“I’m not sure what happened to any of them. The Red Room recalled us from the assignment and I never saw any of them again.” Natasha’s voice hardens, as if she’s trying not to get emotional.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, knowing somewhat what it was like to have your loved ones torn away from you, never to be heard from again.

“But maybe my mom–Melina–retired here,” Natasha says, trying to be optimistic. “She might have still been working for the Red Room. The professor did say that this was some kind of gateway there.”

You don’t have the heart to tell her that no one’s been here for months, if not years. Whatever intel the professor had was outdated. The frustration that had been simmering in your gut spikes to a boiling point: the whole purpose of coming here had been for nothing. You would bet a year’s supply of beer and cigarettes that the professor had known this, but because he wanted to indulge Natasha, let you come out here with her and waste your time anyway.

You turn away from Natasha so she can’t see how angry you are. You’ll let her have this moment.

***********************************************************************

Since there isn’t anywhere to go but this house for miles, the two of you decide to set up camp. Natasha finds an old generator outside and jumpstarts it to provide electricity and tasks you with pumping gallons of water from the well. As you drag the last bucket inside, still muttering to yourself about what an awful idea this was, you find Natasha heating up some cans of soup you brought on the stove.

“I didn’t know if the soup would be enough for you, so I pulled some jerky out for you, too,” Natasha says, pointing to the crumpled bag on the table. Immediately, you soften at her thoughtfulness. 

“Thanks, darling. I appreciate it.” You walk up to her from behind, wrapping your arms around her waist and kissing the sensitive spot below her ear. Natasha hums in content, pushing her butt back to rub against your front. “Maybe after dinner?” you propose. At least one benefit to being alone with Natasha in a secluded cabin was that you didn’t have to hide with her. In fact, you could take her right now on the counter if you wanted.

“After dinner,” she agrees, rubbing your forearm.

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

AN: Sorry to cut it there! 😏 Part 1 was running too long so I cut it in half.

Click here for Part 2!

Hope you liked it! Please leave likes, comments, and reblog! Follow for more content. 🥰

[dailykafka]

Okay… here is what I meant about the "Franz Kafka night time fantasies" thing.

Ugh, this is going to obviously be horrible, but I just want to share it, get it off my chest.

Every night, for almost two months at this point, I’ve been imagining myself as this deranged, self-hating femcel who ended up swooning over Franz Kafka, simply because of his stories, to which I felt they somehow "touched my heart".

But because imaginary me is a femcel with lots of hatred towards men because of my supposed past, I do not like the fact that Franz Kafka is a boy. Oh—and also, in my head, Franz Kafka would also be a suicidal, self-hating, body dysmorphic hopeless romantic as well.

The reason why Franz Kafka agreed to date me is because he is a lonely touched-starved man, who desperately wants the touch of a woman, and I’m the only person who gives him attention. Also that Milena has not responded to his letters in 2 days, and it has caused him severe distress and feeling of great emptiness.

Because I don’t like Franz Kafka as a boy (imaginary-me has boy trauma), I would only give him attention if he were to metamorphosise into a girl for me. He agrees, though not without that timid hesitation.

But afterwards, I would go onto dress him up like he’s a pretty doll, let him wear pretty pink dresses, croquette butterfly hair clips, lace shoes, high white stockings, and I’d style his hair. I would tell people I’m a "lesbian" and let them look at my girlfriend, Franz Kafka. We would go out and picnic like girls, play with dolls, drink tea, lie in a field with lovely tulips, and giggle at our favourite short stories.

But all this, of course, would not go down without causing the author himself lots of embarrassment. His father reams at him daily for his sudden feminine metamorphosis, his sisters began to mock him, and people at his work make fun of him. Yet, Franz Kafka is far too emotionally attached to me to ever let go of me, or even let go of being a girl. though he does hate his life even more and wants to die. Clearly he is not mentally okay.

However, in these turn of events, his best friend Max Brod finds out about Franz Kafka sudden metamorphosis into a girl, and… falls in love with him. Franz Kafka is not gay, so he shyly rejects him, but Max Brod is insistent, and thus begins to stalk him, grossly infatuated with the feminine author.

It would come to a point where suddenly, as Franz Kafka walks down a street, all alone as a defenceless girl, suddenly Max Brod would come out to kidnap him, drag him into the basement and perform some terrible kafkaesque things to him. Kafka would plead and sob for him to stop, but the hell would not end.

I am in awe of your rich inner world…

Several responses that came to my mind while reading this:

Okay soo this is insane

Okay, this is fascinating

I think you should check your house for mold poisoning

[azrielslightintheshadows]

Hi! I’ve been loving all of your work and had a request (hopefully I can explain it right lol I’m not the best with words). Could you write something with one of the batboys (no preference, love them and all) where reader has known him a while but they’re only just reconnecting after not seeing each other for a while (just, like, life and different careers and such) and while they’re all flirty and like grossly adorable reader is struggling to figure out how to explain that she’s not the same girl he knew when they first met because trauma? I’m thinking definitely angst lol but hopefully a very fluffy ending? If not no big deal tho, wherever the story takes you 🫶🏻

Missed you.

Azriel x f!Reader.

Masterlist.

Warnings; angst, mentions of abuse, trauma and sexual assault.

I hope you enjoy it. I didn't really know how to write this so I hope this is okay.

You never expected to see him again, you remember his face when your parents dragged you out of the court… they had arranged a marriage with one of Beron’s sons ignoring your sobs as you begged them to reconsider and promised to leave their house so you wouldn’t be a burden to them.

Your marriage changed you entirely, your husband was beating you every time you even dared to breathe, the nights were the worst, he would force himself on you enjoying your cries and pleas. Lady Autumn and Eris were the reasons that you remained sane. Lady Autumn would request to see you, and you would spend most of your day with her away from your husband. Eris would hear your screams and he would pretend that he needed your husband’s help with something to get him away from you. When Beron finally died, Eris became the High Lord and killed his brothers ending your misery. After that both you and Lady Autumn became more confident, Eris gave you as much freedom as he could without endangering your lives. When you asked him for a place in his court, he happily obliged, he asked one of his best warriors to train you and he even trained you himself some days, and you became the Autumn Court’s emissary to the night court.

So here you were, in Velaris staring at the house of wind. With a deep breath you called Rhysand in your mind to come pick you up. In a blink he emerged from darkness in front of you, his signature feline smile decorating his face. “Mother above, look at you… you’ve changed so much” he breathed as he saw you.

“I know” you smiled and hugged him. “Is he there?” you asked and pointed at the house of wind.

“Yes, he doesn’t know yet.” Rhysand winked and picked you up, his wings appearing behind him as he took off to the sky.

You could hear several voices in the dining room, the atmosphere felt warm and peaceful, it reminded you of the times you all spent together in there before your parents found out that you were hanging out with two Illyrian bastards and a half-breed as they had said. That was the main reason they sent you to the Autumn court. You walked inside and everyone stopped talking as they saw you. You recognized Cassian, Mor, Amren and Azriel, but not the other three females. Azriel was staring at you wide-eyed, his scarred palms gripping the tablecloth, you really believed that he would rip it. Cassian grinned and got up, running to you and picking you up.

“I missed you” he boomed.

“I missed you too” you held him tighter.

Mor jumped on the both of you, tears streaming down her face, and Amren came and patted you on the shoulder. “Welcome back girl” she smiled and returned on her seat.

After your feet touched the floor again, Azriel approached you slowly, like he couldn’t believe you were real.   

“Hey” he said softly. “Hi” you smiled and pulled him in for a hug. You felt him relax with a sigh.

“You’re back” he whispered in your hair.

“I’m back” you repeated and inhaled his scent, you had missed him so much.

You didn’t know how long you stayed like that, Rhysand cleared his throat making you release each other and glance at him. “I want you to meet my mate and High Lady of the night court, Feyre” he smiled proudly and gestured to one of the females. She smiled and got up walking closer to you.

“And this is y/n, one of the original members of the inner circle.” Rhys explained making your heart melt.

“Hi its so nice to meet you” Feyre said and hugged you.

“Likewise” you smiled and caressed her back.

When she let go of you Rhysand continued “and these are her sisters Nesta and Elain”.

You smiled at the girls, and they nodded.

You sat next to Azriel and ate your food silently as your friends informed you about everything that happened after you left. Turns out your parents told everyone how happy you were with your new husband and that you were trying to start a family. You snorted at that but said nothing. After everyone finished their food Azriel whispered in your ear “Wanna go somewhere else and catch up?”. You felt a bile climbing your throat, you dreaded the moment you would stay alone with him. Before you left you had asked him to be your first, you wanted someone who cared for you. You were glad that Azriel was your first even though it was the start of your abuse. You kept your friendship with the inner circle hidden from your parents, but the night Azriel made love to you, your parents smelled him on you and that’s how they found out. Azriel frowned at your lack of response, and you quickly straightened your posture. “Yeah of course” you whispered back and smiled.

“Y/n, me and Nesta were thinking of going to Rita’s for some drinks would you like to join us?” Mor said excitedly. Azriel tensed, his expression turning into a frown. “Oh I’m sorry I already made plans” you nodded, and Mor quirked a brow. “With me” Azriel’s deep voice caught everyone’s attention. He got up and offered his hand to you “Let’s go” he smirked.

You followed him outside ignoring everyone as their jaws dropped. He opened his arms and you reluctantly moved closer. He picked you up effortlessly and took off. When you landed again you were on the roof of an old building. You almost choked on air when you realized that it was the abandoned building where you had your first time with him.

“Azriel, why did you bring me here?” your voice barely above a whisper.

“Because that was the last time I touched you” he explained and sighed. “I’ve been coming here almost every night since you left.”

You nodded and sat down, your feet dangling from the edge of the roof. Azriel did the same beside you and you leaned your head on his shoulder, both of you staring the city bellow.

“I’m sorry for your husband” he murmured. Your body tensed. “I heard Eris killed him, and from what I heard from your parents you were ready to start a family.” He had a sad smile on his face. How could you tell him? Would he accept your new self? Would he accept your trauma?

“I’m sorry I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable” he said and leaned his head on yours.

“Az… I want you to know that I’m not the same female you met all those years ago”.

He straightened his posture, lifting his head from yours and clearing his throat.

“I see…” he said and got up. You furrowed your eyebrows and before you could speak, he said “I think we should go back. It’s late”

He flared his wings and opened his arms. You frowned and stepped closer.

When you landed on the balcony he hurried off to his room. You followed him and when he tried to close the door, you pushed it open and entered his room, shutting the door behind you.

“What do you want?” he growled.

“What’s your problem?” you shouted.

“You.” He shouted “you come back here and when I try to approach you again after waiting for 30 years, you become distant. We were on that roof, and you decided to tell me that you changed, okay point taken you don’t feel anything about me anymore.”

“No Az… I didn’t mean it like that…” your features softened. “I- I don’t know how to explain this.”

Azriel glanced at you and took a seat on his bed.

“You know you can tell me everything” he was calm now.

“I didn’t have a good husband… okay no, let me get things from the very beginning.” You took a deep breath “okay so that night after we made love, I went back home, and my parents smelled you on me. I didn’t want to tell them that I wasn’t pure anymore… you remember how they were. So I just told them that we were hanging out with the rest of the inner circle and they told me that its unacceptable for a female like me to hang out with two Illyrian bastards, a half-breed, a whore -Mor and a monster -Amren. They decided that I was embarrassing our family, so they begged Beron to wed me to one of his sons. My husband was abusing me, he would beat me up every day, and every night he would force himself on me.” Your voice broke at this and Azriel frowned. “Eris and his mother were the only ones that kept me as safe as they could in that palace. Then Beron died and Eris killed his brothers, I asked him for a place in his court and he trained me. I’m not the same because of this, I’m stronger now but I’m still afraid of males. I don’t want to lead you on and then turn away from your touch.” Your eyes watered. “I don’t care about that angel, we will get through this together. We will take things slow until you are ready to be touched again.” He smiled.

You approached him and stood in front of him.

“Are you sure about that?” you asked, and he nodded with a sweet smile. You took a step closer, and he opened his legs for you to stand between. You placed your arms around his neck, playing with his hair. He glanced up, a soft expression on his face, his eyes filled with love and affection. He kept his arms on his thighs, you could see that they were itching to touch you, but he just clenched them into fists. You reached for his hands, taking them in your own and placing them on your waist.

“I missed you” he whispered. “I missed you too” you replied and relaxed in his arms.

Requests are open but delayed.

[bellysoupset]

Part 2 of Leo's birthday - Jonah's turn.

This was a request from🧋anon!

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

Leo was cute when he slept and Jonah was sure this was an objective opinion and not just because he was head over heels in love with the guy. 

He was sprawled on the bed, occupying most of it and snoring softly, shirtless and having already kicked away most of the blankets. Despite the terrible ending of their night, Jon was still counting that as a good birthday. Sure, Leo had puked on Wendy’s shoes and then again on the kitchen sink as soon as they got home, but afterwards he had climbed into bed with Jonah, complaining about a bellyache, and had melted like a golden retriever pup on his lap, dozing off within minutes of getting the belly rub.

That should still count as a good birthday, right?

“Baby,” Jonah crawled on the bed, freshly showered and ready to head in for work, “Leo. Wake up, you’re going to be late for work,” he shook his fiance’s shoulder, “Leo.”

He’d probably end up being late himself at this rate. Leo groaned and swatted his hand away, making Jonah scoff.

“I’m heading to work,” he whispered, brushing Leo’s hair away from his face, “and I’m gonna set your phone’s alarm. Thirty more minutes, then you have to get up.”

“Uhhrgh,” was Leo’s response and Jonah rolled his eyes, doing as he had promised and leaving the bedroom. He had spent too much time in the shower and there wouldn’t be any time to make himself food, but the cupcakes Leo had brought over from work were still in the fridge.

Figuring his boyfriend certainly wouldn’t want them after puking due to too much food last night, Jonah quickly polished off the two cupcakes on his way down to the garage.

As his day progressed, Jonah’s good humor started to tank. Everything felt like too much, his clothes clinging to him, the hospital noise that normally he could drown out without thinking, sounding much louder than usual. 

Around 10 AM, he got a kid wailing down the ER and a distraught mom absolutely chewing the hell out of the paramedic who had just brought him in. Jonah cringed as he realized he’d have to be the one handling this. There were many reasons why he wanted to be a surgeon and one of them was no angry moms hovering about while he tried to do his job. 

He’d take a heart attack any day over a broken leg. 

Mom’s name was Louise and she was not impressed by Jonah’s bedside manner. Her son was named Charlie and he was struggling to keep up, the poor kid’s chin wobbling as he tried valiantly not to cry. 

“Charlie, we’re going to-”

The dam broke and more tears came up. Jonah sighed, resisting the urge to fan himself. It was so warm. He planted a sympathetic hand on the kid’s shoulder, wiping away the tears. It was painful to watch, knowing the boy was only hurting himself more by sobbing like that. 

“You’re okay,” Jonah cooed softly, as the nurse started up an IV, communicating silently with him. There was no way they could wait for oral painkillers to take effect before wheeling the kid to x-ray and that was considering he didn’t make himself sick with all the crying, “it’s just a little poke.”

“Hu-hurttssss,” the little boy continued to cry and Jonah rubbed his back, checking his watch. Five minutes for the morphine to kick in. Louise was patting her foot nervously on the ground, whole body shaking with anxiety. 

“Ma’am, he’s in good hands,” Jonah explained, just to say something. His stomach was starting to slosh uncomfortably, “we’re waiting for the painkillers to kick in and then we’ll go to x-ray, you’re welcome to accompany-”

“Of course I’m going with him, are you crazy?” She scoffed at him, stepping closer and cooing over her son. Jonah resisted the urge to move away, as the kid wiped at his nose grossly on the back of his sleeve and slightly cuddled up to his side. He was getting heavy. 

“There we go,” Jon lowered him against the pillow, “hurting less?”

The boy nodded, his face still all pink and wet with tears, “still hurts.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” he grimaced, signing the kid’s record and jolting down his next instructions, “we can’t give you too much medicine, in case we need to do another procedure. As soon as the X-rays are done we’ll give you better meds,” Jonah smoothed the boy’s hair back gently, “we’re going to move your bed now, okay Charlie? Are you feeling alright?”

The kid sucked in a sob, but nodded and Jonah smiled at him, “nurse Marjorie is going to stay with you the whole time,” he gestured to the much older nurse, who was one of his favorite people in the hospital. She had more than 30 years of experience, was trained for surgeries and tough as nails. “Then as soon as you’re released from X-Ray I’m going to see you again, okay?”

“O-Okay…” The kid’s voice broke and Jonah squeezed his hand in a sympathetic manner, before allowing the technicians to wheel him away, his mother not sparing the doctor a second glance. 

As soon as they were out of sight, Jonah allowed his smile to fade. 

While the interaction had been brief — and Louise hadn’t actually shaped up to be a momzilla, just a regular worried mother — it had been long enough for his stomach to go from “a little off” to “full blown nausea”. 

He felt a weird pressure travel up and Jonah quickly excused himself, power walking to the bathrooms, stripping his white coat as he rushed there so he wouldn’t be so recognizable as a doctor. 

The bathroom, given it was near the ER, wasn’t empty. There were five stalls on each side, the middle of the room had a large slab of stone with a mirror and five sinks on each side of the mirror. No urinals, for which Jonah was very glad.

He rushed inside of a stall and brought his coat to his mouth, muffling a loud, thick burp. Even with the fabric in the way, it was still pretty loud and he was sure others had heard it. Whatever, this was a hospital, he tried to reassure himself, as yet another sickening burp rolled up.

Jonah let out a little moan and lowered the coat, head hanging in shame and nausea. He folded the coat over one arm, slightly palming his stomach under his button up shirt. It was warm to the touch and bloated and the small pressure of his hand on it caused another belch to rush up, this one too expected for him to muffle it. 

It hurt his throat, the acidic sludge of his tummy rushing up with the burp, but he swallowed it down last second. Jonah pressed his forehead to the hard white plastic of the stall’s wall and breathed out slowly, he had to get his body in check. At least finish his ER hours. 

Defeated and knowing he wouldn’t puke right at this moment, Jonah walked out of the stall to wash his face.

The next two hours went like a blur. He tried his best to focus on his patients, but was forcefully reminded by his stomach that it was still very upset every other minute. He had grabbed a plastic cup of water and was sipping on it in between patients, pushing down the thick sweet saliva that kept flooding his mouth. 

Finally Claire came to relieve him, so he could go for lunch, and Jonah could’ve cried. Instead of heading down to the cafeteria or to the many restaurants that were around the hospital’s complex, he went to the doctor’s staff to lie down.

There was coming and going in the place, it was a change of shifts after all, and Jonah reached for his phone inside his locker. He grabbed it, then went to the back room where there were two bunker beds in case they needed to sleep.

One of the top ones was already occupied and Jonah put his phone on silent mode, then crawled on a bottom bed, curling up on his side and muffling another sick burp against the thin pillow. 

He wrapped an arm around his stomach, bringing up his knees and squeezing his eyes as the pressure made his belly feel like it was full with boiling liquid. 

There were texts from Leo and Jonah squinted at the screen, lowering the brightness and struggling to understand what his boyfriend was saying. 

Leo: Gonna call in sick at work, still feeling pretty shitty. Don’t think I overdid it yesterday, just ate something off. 

Leo: Good news! You’ll be happy to know the restaurant we went to didn't make me sick. I got food poisoning at the office :) When I get my hands on Sandy she’s done for.

Leo: Apparently they canceled everyone’s schedule, because everyone called in sick. Isn't that lovely? You bet your ass we’re gonna have a lecture on food handling and what not, can’t wait.

Leo: When are you coming home, my tummy hurts and I want cuddles 🥺🥺 JD is sick of me 

Leo: Jon, did you eat the cupcakes in the fridge? Baby, pls text me back.

The string of texts started at 8 AM and ended just around 10 AM, with one missed call accompanying it. Jonah gagged as he realized he had eaten the poisoned stuff as well and he dropped his phone on the mattress, half sitting up on the bed and trying to figure if he was about to spew or not.

He was sweating. Jon undid his tie and opened the top buttons of his shirt, sitting fully up and cradling his stomach. The whole organ was snarling like crazy and he gulped down when the flipping of its contents made him gag, almost bringing up liquid. 

“Fuck,” Jonah whispered, grabbing his phone, coat and tie and slipping out of the bedroom. He needed a bathroom, not a bedroom- His intestines cramped and Jon froze, shuddering at the sensation. He really needed a bathroom.

At least the doctor’s one was much more private. It still had stalls, but only two and the place was empty. Jonah dropped all his items to the ground, suddenly too restless and panicked to mind how gross that was. He wasn’t sure if he was going to shit his pants or puke. 

His stomach let out an upset whine and then a rush of bubbles went south, making up his mind for him. His hands were shaking as they fumbled with his belt and fly and he could feel his tummy rumbling ominously against his touch. 

He sat on the toilet, then wrapped his arms around his middle, gulping down nervously. The lights over his head felt like too much and he was sweating like hell. 

The runs left him so dizzy he was forced to plant a hand on the stall’s wall in order not to fall off the toilet. Jonah didn’t even bother muffling the sick burping fit that followed, his head swimming. 

Once he finally managed to get out of the bathroom, Jonah stared at his reflection angrily. He looked like hell. Sweat had glued down his tight curls to his temples and was beading over his forehead and mustache area, he looked gray, his lips pale… 

He washed his face and hands vigorously, then took a gulp of tap water and breathed through the sensation of it settling in his stomach like a brick. Jonah checked his watch, then groaned out loud, there was no way he’d be able to last the remaining five hours he still had to go. 

Wendy picked up on the third ring, sounding sleepy. She had the night shift today and Jonah felt bad about waking her up, but not so bad he considered not calling. He wanted to go home, his whole body was shaking. 

“Yeah?” she yawned, “Jon?”

“Dee, can you cover for me? I don’t feel well,” he said, straight to the point. Another yawn. 

“Please tell me Leo didn’t have a stomach bug. I can't get the flu again, I’m gonna cry,” Wendy groaned and he heard her moving around.

“No, food poisoning and I-” he turned his head, muffling a sick burp and gagging over the sink when it brought up some thick, extra sweet spit. Jonah took a steady breath, “I think I got it as well.”

“Fantastic,” Wendy deadpanned, “I can go in one hour, can you handle that long?”

He knew she only lived 10 minutes away from the hospital and that the 50 other minutes were probably to tell Vince goodbye, since he’d be driving back to Doverport. Jonah felt mildly annoyed at the fact she’d be making out with her boyfriend while he was dying, but he also knew she was already doing a gigantic favor by coming in five hours before she needed to. 

“Yeah, I can handle one hour,” he sighed, clutching his stomach. 

“Alright, I’ll be there,” she hung up without further ado and Jonah let out a sigh.

The thing was, he could clock out and then stay in the bathroom until Wendy arrived, but then it would mean his chart would show he had left five hours earlier and Jonah needed all the hours he could get. Whenever Wendy covered for him or he covered for her, they never clocked out. 

So instead of being smart and staying in the bathroom, he forced himself to go sit in his office. 

Normally he liked clinic office hours, but not today. Today he didn’t like anything. 

Jonah was sitting there, with his head in his hands and considering the stupidity of his actions given how badly his stomach was churning and how he kept burping — thank god his door was shut —, when there was a knock.

He glanced at his watch. 30 more minutes, couldn’t be Wendy. 

“Come-” just speaking increased his nausea tenfold and Jonah interrupted himself as he gagged, sliding the trashcan that was under his desk closer and–

The door opened, the person on the other side clearly not realizing he hadn’t finished his words. The little boy from before, now in crutches and with his leg on a cast, still looking like he was in pain and ready to cry, his mother right behind him…

“Fuck,” Jonah groaned, when his stomach gave up on him and he had no choice but to dive for the trashcan as a thick wave of vomit came up. He brought it up to his mouth, to shield his face from view, but still he heard over the rushing in his ears as the woman let out a shriek.

Humiliation only heightened his stomach ache and he coughed, bringing up another wave of overly sweet vomit. It tasted just like the chocolate cupcakes, except rotten. Jonah burped mid retch, feeling more than a little woozy and he fell from his chair, grabbing on the desk to keep from going down entirely.

A lot more noise now and then a hand was in the middle of his back, a female voice ushering his distraught patients out. He prayed the next wave of puke would drown him.

No such luck, his tummy squeezed again and Jonah let out a whimper as he was forced to burp and it brought up some more chunks of his poisoned breakfast. Finally, after what felt like a lifetime but was probably just a couple minutes, he stopped feeling like he was about to hurl and was left panting over the trashcan. 

He was shaking like hell and his stomach was cramping, intestines as well. Everything felt sort of fuzzy around the edges.

“Jon?” Wendy’s voice was like a balm to his nerves and he nearly cried. Instead he let out a groan and pulled back from the trashcan, falling vaguely against her. He heard her let out a little huff as he weight rested on her, but her hand was cold and gentle as it came to cup his forehead.

“Killme, Wen,” he groaned, his words sticking together and she let out a sigh, rubbing his arm.

“Are you done?”

“For now,” Jonah nodded. He knew he was far from done, not only because of the food, but because he felt a new type of nausea mix into his belly. Anxiety, panic, “my patients-”

“It’s okay,” Wendy squeezed his arm, “don’t think about that. Claire took them out.”

“Fuck,” he turned his head and blinked, finally getting a hold of his bearings. They were sitting on the ground, practically under his desk. Wendy had her white coat on and she looked incredibly concerned, “you’re not gonna call me an idiot for not sitting in the doctor’s lounge until you arrived?”

Wendy shook her head, “you’re feeling too bad for me to tease you,” she stroked his cheek lightly and Jonah felt a knot in his throat. He nodded in agreement and leaned forward, planting his forehead to her shoulder, a weird position given Wendy was much shorter than he was.

“I wanna die,” he groaned and she rubbed his back.

“You’re okay, sweetheart,” she ushered him up, “I’ll get their details and you can send the mom an apology card and some fancy wine. It’s not the end of the world, I promise you.”

“Stewarts-” Jonah started to say, meaning his supervisor, who’d absolutely chew him out for this and Wendy glared at him, pushing him along the hallway.

“You couldn’t have known, it came out of nowhere,” she lied through her teeth, “right? You were feeling fine before.”

Jonah cringed, but nodded, buying in the lie, “yeah, I certainly didn’t feel gross for hours beforehand.”

“Exactly,” Wendy pushed him down the hallway, “I’m gonna drive you home, okay? And you’re gonna be a decent patient and drink loads of water and get your boy to do the same, because I don’t want to see any of you in my hospital later.”

“Don’t call Leo my boy, that’s weird,” Jonah groaned, but he was feeling overwhelmingly fond of his best friend. He loved this woman so much.

[luvonmes-blog]

Is it me?

in which they love each other.

part 2 to Why couldn’t it be me?

it has a little angst, nothing to bad tho but it gets so fluffy at the end. like grossly fluffy.

————————————————————————

so much had happened since that night. it was the last night Stiles had seen you in weeks. after Sheriff Stilinski drove you home you packed your things and just… disappeared. everyone tried contacting you. Scott, Lydia, Allison, Kira, even Isaac but no one could reach you. It’s like you had fallen off the face of the earth and Scott feared something had happened to you. no one had heard from you or knew where you were until that night. the night Allison died. you received all of their calls and voicemails, but never had the courage to call back. after you left you never planned to return but when you read Scott’s text about how Allison had died and he really needed you then - needed his best friend, his sister - you couldn’t avoid Beacon Hills any longer.

you showed up in his doorstep and the moment Scott opened the doors he fell into your arms. you let him sob into your chest until he couldn’t anymore. you two sat in his living room as he caught you up on everything and asked for your help.

“so… this entire time, it wasn’t Stiles?”

“no. it’s an evil spirit hiding in his body and Y/N/N, i need your help getting Stiles back.”

“why me? you have everyone else I don’t get why you’d need me.”

“I need extra help, just in case anything goes south, i’ll know I have you.”

“ok.” you pondered for a moment before speaking your mind. “I have an idea but I need you to make sure no one else knows i’m back.” Scott gave you a questing look. “I have a plan, Scotty, and for it to fall through, I need the element of surprise.”

————————

after that night Scott had kept you updated on everything that happened. and that led you to where you were now, standing outside of Beacon Hills High, hiding in the shadows. you saw Derek fighting some of the Oni with the twins and then you saw him. for a moment you thought it was him. you thought it was actually Stiles but you just knew it wasn’t. he didn’t look like your Stiles and now you’re questioning yourself on how you hadn’t noticed before. but you couldn’t let yourself wallow in self pity. you saw the imitation of Stiles look in your direction and before he could realize you were actually there you ducked behind a wall. you quickly realized walking straight through the front doors of the school was a no-go so you had to find another way to sneak in.

you remembered the many nights you Stiles and Scott had been in similar positions, somehow every time you were fighting some supernatural creature you ended up back at the school, tonight was no different. to get into the school you had to sneak past the imitation of Stiles - Void, they called him - and the Oni. the only other way you could think of was the doors leading to the lacrosse field. you snuck around the building as quietly as you could and onto the field. once there you sprinted to the doors and into the building. when you opened the metal doors what you saw was unexpected.

there was blood, everywhere. splattered all over the walls. it was gruesome and absolutely disgusting, you felt sick to your stomach. pushing the bile that was building up in your throat back down, you made your way through the halls. you snuck around until you heard the familiar voices of your friends. before you could reach them an Oni appeared in front of you. it unsheathed its sword and got into position to swing. right before the sword could slice at you, you ducked out of the way and rolled to the opposite side. hiding until the last moment wasn’t an option anymore so now you had no choice but to fight.

as you crouched on the floor you got into the position to pounce. only transitioning half way, your claws and fangs were out to help you defend yourself. growling lowly at the Oni you launched yourself at it, using an aggressive approach into the fight. it swung its sword at you, slicing through the air and missing you just barely. from what Scott had told you, the Oni were nearly invincible so when you had dig your claws into its arm, there was barely a reaction. the Oni shook you off and sliced its sword at you once again, this time cutting you on your side and leaving a gaping wound.

you hissed in pain and reached to touch the wound, blood covered your hand but you couldn’t give up now. no matter how hurt you were you had to continue fighting, for Stiles. just as the Oni was going to swing again you slid yourself through its legs and popped back up behind you. as it turned around you ducked and clawed at its midriff , a black smoke fell from its wound and it lifted its sword in the air to stab you. you twisted your body as the sword came down, sending a sharp pain through your side and you bent at your cut. you hissed as the gash started bleeding again but you hadn’t had enough time to register it as the Oni came charging at you. instead of backing or ducking out the way as you had done before, you pushed yourself into the Oni. you shoulder checked it and clawed at the mask. flipping over you kicked it’s sword out of its hand and elbowed it where you assumed it’s rib cage would be.

now that it didn’t have its sword anymore, you left it somewhat defenseless. you charged at it, grabbing it by its wrist and flipping it over your back, letting it fall to the floor, you grabbed something from your back pocket and stabbed it straight into its chest. Scott had told you that right before Allison passed she figured out the Oni’s only weakness - silver. and luckily for you, you always carried around a silver dagger your father had given you. as the Oni disappeared into a cloud of smoke you grabbed your dagger and dashed around a corner. just in time as well as Stiles, Lydia, Kira, and Scott came out of the doors of the classroom.

“we’re ok.” Scott had said. “we’re ok-” before he could finish Void had come out of nowhere and knocked him out. Kira turned around ready to swing her sword but Void hit her too.

“this was my game. you think you can beat me at my game.” now he was looking at Lydia and Stiles. he started down the hall at the two as they cowered backwards. “divine move. divine move.” he said incredulously. “you think you have any moves at all? you can kill the Oni but me? me? I’m a thousand years old. you can’t kill me!”

“but we can change you!” Lydia blurted out. that stopped him.

“what?” Scott told you everything and in case anything took an turn of events, like now, he told you what he needed you to do.

“you forgot about the scroll.” Stiles answered.

“the Shugendo scroll.” Lydia added.

“change the host.” it stemmed to all hit Void at once.

“you can’t be a fox and a wolf at the same time.” Stiles finished. and that’s where you came in.

you ran from the corner you were hiding behind and grabbed Voids arm first, just in case he tried to fight back. it came as a shock to Stiles and Lydia, they expected Scott but when they saw painted nails instead they immediately looked up. it wasn’t Scott at all, the red glowing eyes that were coming up from behind Void weren’t Scott McCalls. they were yours and the moment Stiles saw your face, he wanted to burst at the seams. he hadn’t seen you in over three weeks and to be honest, he never thought he would see you again. after the fight he had come looking for you and he couldn’t find you anywhere. not even at your secret spot.

you grabbed Voids head next, gripping onto his hair and yanking his head to the side. your fangs slid out and you growled right before biting into his neck. he was screaming as you bit him and once you had let him go, Kira stabbed him with her katana. Void started choking, a fly came out of his mouth and tried to escape but Isaac had caught in the jar made of wood from the nemeton at the last moment. Void had fallen to his knees and started cracking until he collapsed onto the floor and disappeared into a pile of dust.

everyone was looking at each other until all their all landed on you.

“Y/N.” Stiles spoke a smile lighting up his face but as he tried to take a step forward he collapsed.

“Stiles.” you ran to him, slipping your hand under his head just in time before he slammed it onto the ground. your heart rate was sky rocketing as you rested his head in your lap. Scott had told you they all feared that if they had taken out Void, would Stiles go along with him? and right now, you couldn’t lose him, you just got him back. just as the tears were building in your eyes Stiles took a deep breath in and his eyes opened.

“oh god. I fainted didn’t I?” you let out a breath of relief into a laugh as he looked up at you. “we’re alive? we’re all alive?” you nodded your head at Stiles as tears fell down your cheeks.

“yeah, we’re ok.”

“no, you’re hurt.” Stiles noticed you clutching your side where you wound was.

“no, i’m fine, we’re all fine.” just as you said that you felt a pit in your stomach as Lydia sat up. she got up and started heading to the main doors, and you lot followed behind her, you holding Stiles as he struggled to walk. when you finally reached outside you understand where the feeling was coming from, Derek, Aiden and Ethan were all sitting outside but Aiden didn’t look so well. he wasn’t well at all and once you guys finally realized what had happens Lydia turned around and Scott grabbed her, letting her sob into his arms.

————————

you were sitting in Stiles’ room putting things in boxes as he took down his mock investigation board. you noticed Sheriff standing in the doorway and you smiled at him. a look of shock crossed his face before a warm smile replaced it. you still hadn’t told everyone you were back.

“what’re you kids doing?” he asked and Stiles turned around, finally noticing his dad.

“we’re just…” he trailed off trying to find a way to finish the sentence.

“clearing our heads.” you finished for him and he turned to look at you, a smile gracing his face.

“ok.” his dad said staring fondly at the two of you before heading downstairs. Stiles put whatever he was holding down before kneeling in front of you.

“we need to talk.” the fond look you had on your face faded and you nodded, letting out a broken “ok.” you guessed it was finally the time, not much talking had been done since you got back. after that night you helped Stiles get home and then you went back to your place, your mom scolded you for disappearing and not telling her where you were but then she hugged you, telling you how much you worried her and if you were ever going through something again to just tell her. Stiles texted you and asked you to come over today, saying he needed help with his room. he took your hands into his and then placed one on his face. “I’m sorry.” you looked up at him incredulously.

“what… what are you sorry for?” you asked, eyes wide.

“the last time I saw you. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things and I know I hurt you and I never, ever meant to do that.” he was crying now, tears cascading down his cheeks.

“Stiles stop.��� he looked up at you confused. “it wasn’t you Sti.” you bring your other hand to his face, now cupping his cheeks. “it wasn’t you. you didn’t mean it and I forgave you a while ago. the moment Scott told me what was happening I forgave you.” before you could finish Stiles surged up and kissed you, your lips moved passionately in tandem and a smile broke out onto your face.

“I love you.” he whispered and your eyes grew two times wide before the brightest smile you could muster appeared on your face. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Stiles.” he looked at you, smiling brightly as well. “I have since I met you.” he kissed you again and this time you pushed him back meeting him on the floor. you fell next to him in a fit of giggles intertwining your fingers with his. “ok, ok we have to clean.” you laughed, trying to get up but Stiles pulled you back down with him.

“it can wait. I finally got my girl.” and in that moment you swore you could never be happier.

————————————————————————

sooooo how we feelin? ik ik it took me forever to post part two but i finally did!

tag list: @igotmajordaddyissues @vyctorya @elizabethmidnight2017 @spideylovesyou3000-blog @chunkybabygorl

[fandomwritingbit]

hi!! would like to req a priest william smut with a fem sub reader :>> the events taking place at night would be great since it’s hotter that way lmao but the plot can be abt anything! tysm and super love ur work btw <3

Hiya, thank you so much for this request, I just love playing with religion, you and my pfp make eye contact like that one monkey meme. That being said, I’m gonna warn you, I’m Church of England, I only know basic things about Catholicism from studying history. But I done some research, and I think it’s decent- feel free to correct me though if something is grossly wrong.

Again, thank you!

Priest William x (fem) sub reader

Warnings: smut, inappropriate relationships, corruption, guilt.

A little over thirty minutes ago, you’d thrown yourself through the wooden doors of the church, the pouring rain making your clothes cling to your body and your hair stick to your forehead. The stormy weather perfectly summed up the torrential feelings, it was like a bomb exploded inside you and shattered any illusion of control or power you thought you had in your life. Your life, that notion is almost ridiculous. You hate it, and everyone, and everything. Your overbearing mother who demanded perfection, forced you to smile even though it killed a part of you to do so. Your father, god, if you could even call him that. Your work, the stress it caused you. All of it.

The emotions were so strong you couldn’t stay in your room and push past them. You were drowning in them and the only way to feel any semblance of sanity was to kneel in a pew and pray for some miracle to help you overcome your troubles. So you replaced your nightclothes with something more acceptable and fled your house, not even noticing the rain until you’re halfway to the church with a rosary painfully clutched in your hand, the beads pressing indents into your palms.

You don’t know what time it is when you arrive and enter the old building, the steeple silver-lined by the light of the moon looking like the cover of a horror story. Gothic and dark but strangely beautiful.

Inside a sudden calm came over you, the stained glass window over the altar casting stunning colours across the floor, intense twists of blue and purple swirling together and diluting the image of Jesus it portrayed. You drop to your knees before it, pressing your eyes shut and trying to ignore the warm tears that seeped between them. You shiver when you clasp your hands together, beginning to mouth your words of prayer.

You’re so lost in your worship, you didn’t hear the footsteps behind you, seeking to investigate the source of the doors banging open then shut again at this time of night. The church didn’t 'close', but a responsibility lies on the clergy to make sure people coming in so late are legitimate and not youths after a laugh.

The priest moves near silently, watching your figure before him. He recognises you from service, how could he not, sometimes he spoke directly to you, mesmerised by how you slung on to his every word. And now, the arch of your back is so pretty as you kneel there praying. A rhythmic sniffling makes him realise that you’re crying, a thought crossing him mind that whoever could make a sweet thing like you cry, deserves more than hell.

You pause in between prayers, needing a moment to catch your breath as your sobbing finally begins to subside. You knew this would work, something about the calmness of a place of worship settling your bones and making you realise your problems weren’t as massive as they seemed. Inhaling through your nose, you hold it for a few seconds to force your body to adjust to a more peaceful state. But a hand landing on your shoulder causes the breath to tear from you in a shuddered gasp.

“Ah-” you turn to the man standing beside you, your eyes moving from his hand on your skin to his face looking down at you with a small smile, “God, you scared me… father.” It takes you a moment to take notice of his collar, obviously there’s someone here, you feel like an idiot.

He chuckles, shaking his head with an almost mocking expression. “Blasphemy will add another Hail Mary to your list.” The words are professional but that hand on your shoulder didn’t feel so.

“Yes- I’m sorry.”

“Apologies mean nothing," The smile on his face grew wider, becoming a smirk that wouldn't have looked out of place on the devil himself. He pauses briefly, his fingers rising from your skin and catching a loose strand of hair, beginning to twirl it around his finger, the action making your browns furrow instantly. “You have to… demonstrate your repentance.” The way he plays with those words gives you goosebumps and you look up to the priest with a growing knowledge spreading across your face.

How you found yourself here is a mystery. A dark, twisted and sinful mystery. It’s almost an out of body experience, the rain bouncing off the stone building not helping to ground you but rather pulling you further and further from your senses. This is nothing like you, you wouldn’t dream of doing anything like this, or anyone like this.

A large hand traces over your naked breast, your nipples hard in the cold air making them achingly sensitive to the touch of this man. You couldn’t think for how wrong this was, your mind clouded by a guilty need spreading through your core. You don’t know how he got you here, laid back on a sheet of fabric draped across the floor, your skin prickling with anticipation, it’s sheer madness. You’re bare before him, completely naked but not freezing because the arousal kept you warm. And his touch dragging down to your stomach and then between your legs was more than enough to distract you from any thought of the cold night air.

The father kneels between your legs toying with the desperation there, your slick quickly coating his fingers. You don’t even realise what you’re doing until his lips are against yours, your hands around his neck pulling his body on top of you, letting him feel the gasp he elicits when he begins playing with your clit. He grins at your instant reaction, your hips rising to meet his touch and trembling at the patterns he draws on your sensitive nerves.

You felt so perfect underneath him, your smooth skin and the curves of your body reminding him of all the things he was supposed to give up under his occupation. He slowly moved his long middle finger down through your folds savouring the delicious heat of your need, before pressing it inside you, joining it with his index finger he pushed them both down to the knuckle, the most lascivious moan escaping you. Then he settled at a torturously slow and deep pace of fucking his fingers in and out of you. Each time his fingers curl inside you forces you to become more of a moaning mess, your hand grabbing his wrist as you get closer to reaching your peak.

You’re so close already, needily grinding your hips up against his hand, all sensible thoughts of caution or regret long lost in favour for feeling good. His pace adjusts like he can read your mind, now pressing his digits in and out of you faster, how deep it felt coupled with him brushing against your g-spot so perfectly brings you to the height. Your back arching and walls clamping down around his fingers tight whilst you ride out the waves of unreal pleasure. You can feel him hard against your thigh, eager to feel how good your fluttering walls feel squeezing around him, silently asking for him to fill you up.

The priest kisses you again, a firm hand on the back of your neck holding your position while the other raises your left leg to tilt your slick hold towards him. You smirk breathlessly as he positions himself, cock brushing achingly against your entrance, his head teasing you as it rubbed through the hot wetness there. A sudden feeling of nervousness spreads through you, he’s still dressed, his clerical collar a glaring reminder of what this was, but instead of having second thoughts all you want is to see just what celibacy does to a man.

He has to force his eyes from your face as he presses the tip of his cock into your heat, ducking his head into your shoulder so you didn’t see the shameful snarl on his face as he pushed inside, your blissful walls making room for him. He makes it halfway inside you before you reach out to still him for a moment, he’s big, stretching you open so much you almost cry. It feels good, almost ruthlessly so, but once he starts to shallowly move in and out, still not fully inside, you realise that the slight burn was more than worth it. There’s little patience left in him and so, with a cast iron grip on the plush of your arse he lifts you against him and fully sheathes himself. God, you nearly scream, falling instead to a breathless groan into the crook of his neck.

It’s crazy how good it feels, your body taking charge of itself and rutting into his movements hooked on the delightful feeling of corruption, though who is corrupting the other more, you don’t know. He doesn’t fuck you rough, the steady pace is more than enough to make you come undone, but there’s a selfishness to it and it get’s you off that he needs this, needs what your sweet little cunt can give him. These words in your internal monologue shock you, that kind of language feeling unnatural from you but so right simultaneously.

He brings you impossibly closer to him, bodies completely flush, his head buried in your neck, breathing you in and it’s perfect for hearing him grunting as he thrusts in and out of your pussy. He can hardly bear it, your walls wrapped around him harshly, stuck in that state of wanting to go slow to keep himself under control and wanting to push himself to climax all at once. But you feel too good. His pace grows quicker, a desperate edge to it and this change makes another climax raise its head, gaining on you so quickly it’s frightening. He could tell you were close, your fingernails digging into his arms and the prettiest of moans fleeing your lips.

At that point he's greedy, wanting more than anything to feel you clamp around him, to see your eyes roll back as he fills you with his release. That when you cum, pussy clenching tight as a vice around him, fluttering with the waves of your pleasure, he reaches his end, his thrusts becoming harder as he grunts, that warm feeling of his cum inside you apparent even as you twitch through your climax.

He groans before pulling away from you, quickly fixing himself, leaving you laid back to watch him whilst the knowledge of what you've just done trickles between your legs.

[ghostedinkheart]

I will absolutely combust into a sobbing mess of emotions if this turns out to be true

However, if Lilia does end up passing. (Heavens forbid, as that would be GROSSLY UNFAIR) Then I can see them going the "He lives in you." heart-punching route in placing his consolation in the sky.

Not only would it be a consistent reminder for Mallues, but it would be the perfect way to respect the old fae for all that he has done for the people that he loves and for his country.

....I would personally murder the Fae Senate with my own two hands if they opposed in any way...

Just saying...

[jacenotjason]

haii waves

for the ask meme number 15

From fanart or fanfiction, did someone's work made you think more positively of a character/ship? Free free to shout them out, whether if it's one person or multiple people!

I JUST said @eatyourmaker (SORRY FOR THE DOUBLE TAG SOBS) made me appreciate FireyFaith, but they also made me appreciate ignacio altogether. Same goes for HotDebate and FunnyBusniess. ALSO cap n shotgun. ALLLLLSO makes me sad about Hope all the time (THAT GODDAMN GHOST DRAWINGS ARE ENGRAVED IN MY HEAD)

@itsnotmourn made me appreciate richard and carmen A LOT, not only that, made me realize i was (kinda grossly) mischaracterizing Richard n Carmen and made me change an OC lore /pos theyre art is so.;................... soft........................... so so nice to look at. i love it. ALSO THEIR FUCKKINGG ANIMATICS N SHIT GIVE ME GOOSEBUMPS i have to hype myself up before revisiting any of them

@crossover-enthusiast makes me love Skid and Pump. everytime they post/reblog something like "skid n pump need more love" im like "ur RIGHT lets go daydream." Also geniunely just a cool person to rant to, they take all my little stupid thoughts and validate my dumb ramblings i love u cross /p

@grimgummies YOU. you. you make me like Moloch. ok i liked him before but you make me wanna study how to draw him bc i. cannot. ALSO I LOST MY SHIT WHEN YOU FOLLOWED ME BACK AWHILE AGO i sent a screenshot in my discord server like "ARE YOU GUYS FUCKING SEEING THIS!?" and everyone was like ":o". we share ur art all the time ITS SO FUN TO LOOK AT HEEGEHHHFH. also i fought a pinterest art thief bc they posted ur art without credit and i was like "I RECGONIZE THOSE FUCKING NEON HIGHLIGHTS ANYWHERE" and made them take it down it was fun.

theres no way in BUTTCRACK thats all of them BUT YOU GUYS ARE COOOLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

[voolfman]

Flowers for You

SCTIR fic published on ao3 by voolfman

The first time the stranger was left a message on his new phone with his new number (his carrier sucked), he assumed it was from someone whose number he had forgotten to add.

“Yoohyun-ah, it-i- it's your hyung. You forgot your scarf at home. It's getting cold out, and I saw you walking around without one. Ju-just come home and get it? Please? I'm not mad anymore, I promise. Hyung….hyung is just so, so worried. I love you.”

He should have deleted the message. He should've texted the guy and let him know that his younger brother changed phone numbers. But he was busy; he got the message right at the end of his lunch break and his boss was such a hard-ass about being on time that he forgot. Until, he received another voice-mail a few days later.

“I guess you're not coming back for your scarf? That's alright, it's not a good scarf anyway. Second-hand, you probably want…wanted a nicer scarf. Maybe…maybe you would have stayed if hyung had bought you nicer scarves…I guess there's nothing I can offer you now. Even so, hyung misses you. Please come home.”

Then the texts began to start. And he read them. And listened to the voice-mails. He didn't delete any of them. It felt too cruel to erase the words that reeked of despair and loneliness. As if making them cease to exist would somehow erase the last vestiges of the lonely man. As if the man would cease to exist, never to make up with his younger brother.

“Your guild won't even let me in. I just wanted to drop off some of your favorite snacks… I'm sorry hyung couldn't afford better, but hyung’s budget’s been tight this month. I promise I'll save up better for next time! Happy birthday, Yoohyun-ah.” What a coincidence that Han Yoohyun’s birthday was the same day. And his older brother had decided to cause a scene in front of the Hayeon building that day.

It took an embarrassing amount of time to realize it, but eventually, he had to admit, he was receiving messages for THE Han Yooyhun, leader of Hayeon Guild, from THE Han Yoojin, his estranged and publicly renounced older brother. Which, having listened to the older man's heart broken messages and birthday well-wishes, made a lot of what the gossip-rags and mass media busybodies spread sound grossly out of proportion or just outright inaccurate.

One time, partly out of pity, probably out of morbid curiosity, he actually did answer the phone. It was back before he had known who was calling, back when he'd just had the man under the name “The Sad Hyung.”

All it took was the simple tap of an obnoxiously green circle with an outdated symbol of a phone most children wouldn't even recognize anymore from a screen that was too bright for the hour it was calling at.

There was an answering tone. Then silence. Then the whisper of a hushed and choked back sob.

“...Yooyhun-ah?” It was a desperate wish. A whisper of despair. It was the single drop of rain soaking into the ground of a scorched and barren forest.

But he couldn't reply to the voice over the phone, or the gig would be up. The hyung would know that his younger brother had cut off all contact with him. And then what? Who would the hyung talk to? What would he do to himself? He seemed so alone. At least this way his messages would be left on read. His voice-mails would be listened to.

He stayed silent on the other side of the line.

The voice was breaking. The signal was still strong. “Please Yooyhun-ah, what did hyung do wrong? I hate this. I miss you-” another choked back sob crackled through, “Please, can we meet just one last time so you can tell hyung what's going on? I-I’ll make your favorite eggs! Sunny-side up- just…just like you alw-”

The stranger hung up abruptly. He felt sick, his insides twisted like those balloons they gave to children at fairs and theme parks. A voice-mail was left on his phone a few minutes later. He never listened to that one. It was the only one he would never listen to. He thought he was going to throw up.

There were no new texts or voice-mails left for a few weeks afterward.

And that was his routine for the next few years. It wasn't every day he was sent texts and left messages. There were breaks of days, weeks, and as time passed, months.

It was after years that the texts and voice-mails finally stopped. At first he was concerned. It was a couple of months later, when he saw two brothers happily smiling at each other from the colorful pixels of a live broadcast on a billboard on his way home from work, that he was finally able to delete the texts and voice-mails.

Somewhere, in another timeline, the stranger listened for eight long years. As the messages became more bitter. More tinged with anger. Messages and voice-mails splashed with a deadly amount of alcohol and paranoia. Left with broken hearts and pain riddled gasps of leftover affection parsed through poison filled words and cries.

At one point, he learned that the older brother of Hayeon Guild had been sent to the hospital for alcohol poisoning and then sent to rehab. It was all over the news for a while. And then he was released and media mongers were all in a tizzy until they sniffed out something juicier. That was when the texts and the voice-mails started back up again. And that was when he knew. That was when he knew who's phone number he'd been given.

And eventually the messages became far and few between. And then eventually they were erased. And the stranger was erased. And the whole make-up of the world was erased. And the world was reset. And the messages were erased.

Han Yoohyun was not erased.

[alons-ycreeper]

Rexwalker being Ahsoka's parents:

- Anakin and Rex make a list of every essential they need for Ahsoka for whenever the item(s) start to run low. If they have a little left over in their military budget they get her a little treat or something she likes/would like. One of them will even go without something of their own just to get that little extra to give to her. Anything to make their padawan smile.

- Anakin's paranoia sometimes leads him to take Ahsoka's training and studies a little too seriously and Rex has to step in to stop it. He reminds his Jedi that she's only a kid and that, yes, they won't always be there to help but Anakin also won't get anywhere by pushing her to the brink.

- When they go to Kamino Rex always drops Ahsoka with the cadet classes in her age bracket. Anakin does the same thing by trying to schedule padawan meets during their Temple time. They're adamant she make friends her own age.

- Anakin taught Rex some lullabies his mother used to sing to him as a way to help the captain sooth himself after a long and difficult battle. Rex uses that same method with Ahsoka when she first comes to them sobbing her eyes out after a nightmare. It becomes a little nighttime tradition between the three. They'll tuck her into bed, turn off the lights and hum Shmi's lullabies until she falls asleep.

- "Little'un, go to your quarters I want to have a word with your master." It's a phrase Ahsoka has heard a small handful of times but enough to know it means Skyguy is going to be sleeping in her room for a bit and she'll be sleeping in his.

- They pick her up together from her Temple classes when they're on leave. It's not unusual as most clones and their Jedi do it too.

- Cody and Obi-Wan look after Ahsoka when Rex and Anakin have to go somewhere that's a bit too risky for her. (Or sometimes they drop her off with Wolffe and Plo just so they can catch a break.)

- Ahsoka argues a lot more with Anakin than Rex. With the captain she actually listens to him when he tells her to do something. Only a few times did she argue with Rex and of those times he was always right.

- Rex can make things appear when Anakin and Ahsoka have looked for them several times.

- When Ahsoka gets sick Anakin makes his mother's soup as Rex sits with her and comforts her.

- Ahsoka thinks they're so lovey-dovey. The way Anakin spins Rex around, peppering kisses all over the captain's cheeks as he laughs behind his hand. Or how Rex hides Anakin's lightsaber until he gets a kiss to which her master will always oblige, but the captain must get on his tiptoes to receive it. They talk in low voices and stand too close for it not to go unnoticed. They kiss each other in goodbye and hold each other in hello, relief that they survived another day. They hold hands under tables and during missions where it's just the 501st. They're so grossly in love with each other. But that's not a bad thing. Ahsoka can feel their love's warmth in every hug, lullaby and forehead kiss. It surrounds her like a blanket, comfortable and safe.

[nerevarswritingstuff]

Heyyyyyy I just finished the newest chapter…

If these ever get annoying pls let me know

FUCKING

GROSSLY SOBBING

BC I'M LAUGHING TOO HARD

These will never get annoying I love them way too much

Keep being a shitpost lord you beautiful bitch

[swallowtail-ageha]

Now Miquella for the character meme:)

Super late LOL but yesterday i was so exhausted that i had been forced to go to sleep at a normalish hour

Favorite thing about them his in game arc. I was always in the party of "he was a well intentioned person who is gonna go thru a damnation arc" in the dlc and did it deliciously deliver. I am absolutely obsessed with how his crosses imply what he was feeling like during his whole journey in the lands of shadow (ex the i throw away my fears bit)

Least favorite thing about them the promised consort radahn stuff it just makes him BORING i get yadda yadda parallels w marika n godfrey but also. Sometimes parallels arent enough especially when you're retconning established lore

Favorite line "here i abandon my love" its just so aaaagh. Thats the moment where he became doomed! Like. Aaagh. That's his Despair Event Horizon. He threw away what he never should have thrown because he thought it was the only way to make things work

brOTP if seen in a non-incestuous way, with malenia. Otherwise as i've already said wasnt a father figure but he did Care. And miquella cared back with the whole eclypse plan. Recently i really also like the idea of possible messmer and miquella interactions. He'd 100% be disgusted at him as a person but also i feel like he'd leverage his little brother status against him. Fun dynamic heh. Maybe also miquella and leda i dont think he was particularly close to her but also he did take pity on her and tried to Help in his way

OTP malmiq obv for the same reasons listed in the malenia answer i am soo normal about them (lying). Partial to mohgmiq

nOTP i.. surprisingly enough? Don't have them with him? Like yeah promised consort radahn pisses me off fundamentally on a narrative level but the dynamic in a vacuum is interesting and i actually like fanarts of it lol. I think in general he's a character who can bounce off really well with several different dynamics so i am not against any type of ship involving him

Random headcanon he's actually a really skilled gardener! It's a hobby he had since he was a really small child. His favourite plant is foxglove

Unpopular opinion i really really dislike the idea that he charmed mohg before getting coccooned. It just. Really doesnt make sense to me? Timeline and character wise? I also hate when people say that he was evil all along and call him a griffith refefence no. Learn to read something outside of berserk which btw you're also grossly misinterpreting

Song i associate with them Notos by the oh hellos! Something something abandoning all of your important things in order to become Something Greater and then feeling desolated in the aftermath

Favorite picture of them uuuh the statue with him and malenia getting hugged by godwyn. The fact that there are so many of them up in the haligtree is. Sobs