#I am going to self combust holy fucking shit

[mosspapi]

>Wakes up

Oh hey maybe my ribs are better today, this is awesome!

>Tries to sit to get out of bed

Everything is agony. There is no peace or joy in this realm, for the gods have abandoned us and it is our fault. I know nothing but suffering.

[girlboypersonthingy]

Hiya!! Love your work so much😆

I was wondering if you’d write something where the paladins (especially keith hehe) have to go to a formal event like a gala to bring the coalition together (??) and how they’d ask y/n to be their date and/or how they’d react to y/n in their formal attire?? (maybe even add Matt too if you feel inspired) Thank youuu 🫶

Brooooo stoooppppp I am so weak for this idea holy shit 😩 And you are my first non anon request so THANKS FRIEND 🥹 I went with my three fav paladins 💙❤️💚AND Mattie boy 🧡Also I love writing with emojis, sorry not sorry. ENJOY DARLING~

KEITH ❤️

OH MY GOD POOR LITTLE SHY BABY BOY

He waits until the last minute to ask you, let’s be honest. Like a day before the event, he’s sitting beside you in the training room, trying to catch his breath when he goes “So that thing tomorrow. Wanna go together?” And you’re like 😏 “Are you asking me to be your date?” And now he’s like 🙄 “Shut up before I change my mind.”

It’s silent for a second but he’s staring at you. “So, are you gonna answer my question?” “Yes, Keith. I’ll be your date to the gala.” And he’s bright red in the face now.

He tries to act all cool and mysterious as you both leave the training deck and go opposite ways. As soon as you’re out of sight, he’s SPRINTING to Lance’s room.

“HELP I HAVE A DATE AND I DONT KNOW HOW TO ROMANCE!!!” 😰

He’s so fucking annoyed as he spends hours trying to memorize and properly recite pick up lines to Lance as practice.

He also totally does not steal a bottle of cologne from Lance’s bathroom before he leaves.

The morning of, he finds Shiro for wardrobe assistance. Big brother Shiro totally cleans Keith up, giving him a more semi-formal look. Keith thinks he’s too cool for a coat and tie. Shiro also convinces Keith to pull his hair back into a low pony tail.

He decides he’s just too nervous to meet you at your room so he kinda just sits on his bed for a while, fully dressed and smelling great and waiting for you.

Finally you step into his open door way, instantly catching his attention. He stands quickly, almost stumbling over his own feet as he approaches you, admiring your look for the evening.

“OH WOW. Oh…Uh…sorry. You look really nice.” You look so nice he’s stressed out about it like wtf why are you so gorgeous? He thinks you’re sooooo far out of his league.

“I like your hair pulled back like that.” You smile at him and he thinks he might just spontaneously combust rn.

He keeps his arm linked with yours as you walk together to the front of the castle where all the guests are.

Once there, you mostly hang out together or with the other paladins. You’re both kind of shy and you find comfort in being together. You’re like the two emo kids at prom who just stand against the wall and complain about the lame music.

At some point, you two disappeared from the party. Allura and Shiro are like Hello? Where did they go? Shiro wanders outside to look for you only to find you both laying on your backs in the grass right outside the castle’s front entrance, staring up at the sky. He smiles as he hears you laughing at something Keith said.

“Im serious! Lance told me to say ‘even in zero gravity, I’d still fall for you’.” “BOOOOO that’s a terrible line!” You laugh up to the dark night sky.

His hand moves slowly to the side until it meets yours. When you feel the touch, you link your pinky finger with his and look over at him. He’s still staring up at the stars as a smile grows across his face.

He was so worried about disappointing you tonight, he just wanted to charm you. But he didn’t need pick up lines or fancy clothes to make you smile. Just being his normal self seemed to make you happy.

LANCE 💙

You guessed it…Lance is going all out for you.

The morning that they are told about it from Allura, he’s literally interrupting the whole meeting to ask you to be his date.

Freaking cheese ball gets down on one knee, takes your hand and kisses the back of it softly. When he looks up at you, he’s got that flirty smirk on his thin lips. “Would you, (Y/N), make me the happiest man in the universe and be my date to the coalition gala?”

You: 😍🥵🤭

Lance: 😘😏😎

Everyone else: 🤢🫣🙄

Obvi, you say yes with dreamy eyes and a goofy smile on your face.

You thought it was cute that he asked you even though you’ve been dating for a while now. You just assumed you’d be going together anyways. What a sweet boy~

While you’re feeling fine about the whole thing, Lance is freaking out. He’s digging through his clothes looking for something fancy to wear, he’s doing double face masks, he’s forcing Pidge to smell different colognes and help him pick the best one, he’s practicing his slow dance AND his salsa skills. Keep in mind, the gala isn’t for another week but he needs to get prepared NOW!

“There’s not even gonna be music, idiot. It’s a gala, not prom. When are you two even gonna have the chance to do the lift from dirty dancing?” “SHUT UP, PIDGE! IT’LL HAPPEN!!!”

He just wants to impress you so bad. It’s his top priority at the moment.

The night of the event, he’s freshly showered, dressed for the gods, smelling like a whole bath and body works and he’s sitting in your room keeping you company while you get ready.

“Lance, the gala doesn’t start for another 4 hours. Why are you- nevermind. Forget it. You look great.” And he gets so excited at the compliment.

He watches as you get ready. He’s not as talkative as he usually is.

“You okay?” He nods with a dopey grin on his face. He’s just admiring you, that’s all. A compliment leaves his mouth like every 5 minutes as you continue to get all dolled up.

He follows along side you all the way there, his hand is in yours and it’s SWEATY. He’s so nervous.

Once you’re there, his attention span is that of a gold fish. He’s so excited and chatty and asking people questions and he never fails to introduce you to everyone…every single person…S E P A R A T E L Y. He just wants to brag.

“This fine little honey right here…yeah, all mine. I know what you’re thinking, how’d I get so lucky? I ask myself that every day.” What a sap omfg

He notices you’re looking less than happy, kind of tired. Your social battery is at like 5%. He can tell you need a break.

As you’re standing beside Allura, listening to her talk to an ally of the coalition, Lance grabs your hand and pulls you away. You’re running behind him just to keep up with his long legs.

“Where are we going?” “You’ll see.”

THIS MF SET UP FAIRY LIGHTS AND MUSIC AND CANDLES IN HIS ROOM. BRO IS LITERALLY SUCH A HOPELESS ROMANTIC I CANT DEAL WITH IT. That’s why he came to your room so early. He didn’t wanna risk you coming in to his room and seeing everything.

You might think this is so extra but if Lance is anything, it’s extra. He takes any chance he can to make you smile and feel special. He’s so sweet, it’s disgusting.

“I just really wanna dance with you, (Y/N)…” “You did all this…for me?” He nods with a shy smile, bitting his lip as he watches for your reaction. You’re over the moon, your smile uncontrollable now.

So you dance together for a couple songs. He gently caresses your back as he sways with you, occasionally letting his hands roam to your hips. At this point, his cheeks hurt from how hard he’s smiling. It’s cute and sweet and innocent and you’ve never loved him more.

PIDGE 💚

LMAO PIDGE WILL NOT EVEN ASK YOU.

Bc they’re too shy for that romantic shit.

They’re like “Who else would they go with? I’m not worried.”

They assume y’all are going together bc you’re obviously more than just friends.

They will get dressed up nice for you tho. They know everyone else will be dressed up too but they secretly WANT to make you swoon over them. Like plz feed their ego.

They actually go to Hunk for help with their wardrobe. Hunk is the best wingman to ever exist, change my mind. Also, they are really unsure whether they want to wear something more masculine or more feminine and they really trust Hunk with the topic of their gender identity.

��Hey, you guys ready?” You pop into Hunk’s room, all dressed up and ready to go.

“Almost! Hunk is just helping me with the zipper on-“ Once Pidge lays eyes on you, the little gears in their head stop completely. It’s like everything else faded away as they looked you up and down. You’re so angelic, wow oh wow.

“Aww, Pidge! You look stunning.” Aaaaand you broke them. You’re gonna have to turn them off and restart them.

“Uh yeah, you’re good now.” Hunk assures and nudges Pidge back to reality. “Go.” He whispers as he ushers them to move towards you.

You walk together in complete silence, your arm linked with theirs. Finally, they speak up first.

“Are you nervous?” “Yeah, are you?” “Yeah…” “I hate parties.” “Me too.”

So together you devise a plan: you’re gonna sneak around and pull silly little pranks on people and just eat all the food you can get your grubby little hands on.

And you do exactly that. You’re both having so much fun! You’re laughing so hard you’re snorting. You’re far from nervous now.

Pidge is the best at breaking you out of your shell and making you feel comfortable. You can be your true, authentic self around them. They are your best friend first and your ✨partner✨ second.

After a while, you two sneak off to their room to play video games. The food was good and the pranks were hilarious but you had both had enough.

As soon as the door shuts behind you, you’re both ripping off your uncomfortable fancy clothes and changing into pajamas.

You’re sitting beside them, watching the loading screen for the game. It’s taking a while…

“So…what do I have to do to get you to stare at me like that again?” Pidge whips their head around, watching you with nervous eyes. They take a deep breath before they speak. “I always stare at you like that. You’ve just never noticed.” “AAAAWWWWWWWW REALLY?!”

Forget the video game. CUE THE CUDDLEFEST!!! 💚💚💚

MATT 🧡

Matt literally goes like this: 😌👉🏻👈🏻 “Hey…uhm hey…wanna be my date to the gala tomorrow?” *blushies*

And you’re like “Matthew, we’ve been dating for 8 months.” “Yeah, so?” You sigh heavily. “Yes, I’ll be your date, you dork.”

He doesn’t go to anyone for help with anything. Man is so confident and he knows you love him no matter what he looks like.

But of course he cleans up for you. He dresses up all formal and uses mouth wash like 10 times. He puts on so much lotion. He got some from Lance bc his hands are always so dry. He just wants to hold your soft hand in his own soft hand, ya know?

He’s waiting outside your door for a while, giving you privacy while you get ready but being right there for you when you’re done.

Once your door slides open, he turns and now he’s looking at you like he just won the lottery.

“HOT DAMN, YOU ARE SO FINE! What did I ever do to deserve you? Oh my god, you’re so perfect. You are the most perfect thing I’ve ever laid my eyes on, did you know that? I swear, you are so precious-“ “Maaattttt, stooooopppppp.” You’re blushing so hard rn and he LOVES IT.

He walks with his arm around your shoulders, chatting with you about who is attending the event tonight and the importance of it all.

You sort of follow him around most the night, not doing much of the talking bc you’d rather listen to him talk.

He is so intelligent, just like Pidge. He uses words so big you cant even begin to imagine what half of them mean. He was so smooth with his words, the way he could spit facts about anything and everything without a second thought took your breath away.

At some point, you lost him in the crowd. He was busy, he was working to protect the universe. You understand. This is more than just a party.

You wander outside for some fresh air and a break from all the loud banter. Matt is meeting you out there within minutes.

“Hey. You alright?” He rests a hand on your upper back, rubbing his thumb back and forth between your shoulder blades. “Yep! Just…need a break.” “Yeah, I get it. It’s overwhelming.”

He turns and looks over his shoulder before he waves, a big smile on his face. “Oh hey! Yeah, this is (Y/N), my partner. The one I was telling you about.” He’s introducing you to an ally of the coalition who he’d just met earlier this evening.

You can’t help but smile, your heart pounding in your chest. He was talking about you to someone here tonight? What was he saying? Did he just call you his partner??? You’ve never actually heard him call you that. You’re so blushy and flattered and happy.

After a brief meeting, the visitor leaves you two alone. You pull Matt into a hug, squeezing him as tight as you can.

“You know I love you, right?” “Yes. You know I love YOU, right?” “Yeah, I know.” “Good, don’t you ever forget it.” You can decide who said what. Either way, y’all are so in love it’s not even funny.

[wizardofrozz]

ARE YOU KIDDING?!?!

I have reached a new level of not okay. My unhealthy love for Fox meets my monster fucker tendencies 💀 I'm just going to combust at this point.

The smoke curling out of his nose??? That should not fuck me up the way it did holy shit.

“That’s it,” he murmurs. “Make a mess all over my thigh, little one.” 

Whatever you want, Fox.

Grabbing two fistfuls of the front of his shirt, you yank. Buttons scatter across the floor, bouncing out of sight, when you tear his button-down open, revealing his chest.

Always wanted to do this 😂 do deranged thoughts, just wishing I could do this because it looks fun lmao

"Paint my ass, Commander," you gasp out.

Excuse me while I go launch myself into the goddamn sun.

His curls, gray at his temples, fall over his sweaty forehead. His chest heaves with every breath, but a self-satisfied, smug smile curls over his pink lips.

Then ending on this soft visual of him before climbing into bed? Climbing the fucking walls.

The teeth, the tongue, the scales, the softness at the end?? You have literally broken me. What the hell am I supposed to do now? Go be normal???

Midnight Masquerade - Fox

Chapter Summary: The bottle chooses Fox, and you very quickly regret your brash words to the Marshal Commander.

Chapter Warnings: 18+ minors skedaddle; half dragon!Fox x f!reader; kinks: thigh riding and cockwarming; bratting, brat taming, slight Dom/sub undertones (edit: inspired by @sev-on-kamino's recent Fox kinktober post), orgasm denial, spanking (exactly once), unintentional exhibitionism/voyeurism, I saw recently that argued dragons shouldn't have snake belly scales but instead alligator belly scales so Fox's anatomy based loosely on that of an alligator or crocodile (look it up at own discretion), unprotected PiV, oral (f receiving), please let me know if I missed anything, and please read at own peril having read these warnings

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: Not fully happy with this one, but that may just be because I wrote this at the end of my ninth day of work in a row. Brain mush. Enjoy the smuts. okay bye love u

Read the intro here! | Suggested listening

...Fox. 

Equal parts exhilaration and anxiety course through you when you jerk your head up to meet Fox’s gaze. In the flashing, multicolored lights, his scales glint ruby, and though his features are now more reptilian—more dragon-like—you catch the hint of a smirk that tugs at the corner of his mouth. A thin, forked tongue flicks over his pointed teeth. Delight dances down your spine with a shudder.

What was it you had just said? You only beg for those who earn it? 

Yeah, you should have known better.

But, never one to back down from a challenge, you cock an eyebrow at him with a teasing smile. “Shall we, Commander?”

His form is imposing as he stands, every movement calm, collected, calculated; he knows what he’s doing. He knows exactly the way your eyes can’t resist following how his claw-tipped fingers roll up the sleeves of his button-down. Exhaling a shuddering breath, you ignore the way that Wolffe and Cody both shoot you amused looks as you stand, as well. You fight to keep your knees from trembling. 

Fox jerks his head to gesture past your shoulder, indicating for you to lead the way. Turning on your heel, you make sure to swish your hips just a little bit more than your natural walk, slightly arching your back to make your silhouette more alluring. As you press through the crowd, they part before you. A few troopers, probably shinies, nearly trip over themselves to get out of your way. At first, you’re confused at their actions. A glance over your shoulder reveals exactly their fear: a Marshal Commander of the GAR stalks behind you, thin wisps of smoke curling out of his nostrils, a crown of horns swept back from his face, his intense gaze glowering at anyone who gets too close to you. 

When those dark eyes meet yours, you nearly stumble yourself.

Facing forward again, you try not to make it obvious that you’ve lengthened your stride, eager to reach the back rooms. Through a doorway, down the main hallway past several closed doors, you lead Fox. You turn the first corner and—

You’re pressed against the wall, Fox’s tall, lithe form trapping you in. His forearms brace on the wall next to your head as one of his legs slots between yours. Lips parting in surprise, heart stuttering in your chest, you gasp. 

“Fox?” 

He rumbles deep in his throat. “Don’t think I didn’t see you out there, little one.” 

Goosebumps erupt over your skin at his tone. “W-What do you mean?” 

“Don’t play dumb, mesh’la,” he says, “it’s unbecoming of you.” 

“Fine.” Thudding your head back against the cool wall, you regard him with curious eyes. “Would it make you feel better to know I put on that show just for you?” 

He bares his teeth in what you guess is a dragon’s approximation of a smile. “Maybe.”

You huff a laugh. Keeping your eyes on his, you tentatively reach for him. Your fingers bump into his body, and you smooth your palms up over the clean, crisp lines of his button-down, following the contours of his chest. Fox regards you with an impassive smile; the only sign of his own curiosity is a miniscule tilt of his head. Under the shirt, the bumps and ridges of his scales tantalize your sense of touch. You want to know what he looks like without clothes—both in this form and in his normal state. 

“Fuck,” he breathes as you slide your hands in opposite directions. One palm curves up the back of his neck to slide over one of his horns, the bony protrusion thick and curved; your other hand glides down his front to cup over the bulge in his pants. “Could take you right here.”

Heat blazes through you. A small sound escapes you, but it doesn’t escape his notice.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he grits out as you rub your palm over his bulge. “You’d get off on knowing that anyone could turn the corner and see us. Such a shame you won’t have my dick inside you until you earn it.” 

Your eyes snap back to his. So that’s how this is going to be? Fixing him with a smirk, you retract your hands. “I believe it’s you who has some earning to do tonight, Fox.”

“Oh, mesh’la,” he says, words rumbling with a dark chuckle. “You’ll learn.”

Faster than you can react, his hands flash to your waist so he can hoist you up onto your toes, balancing your heated core on his thick, scaled thigh. You whimper, suddenly acutely aware of the ache building in your core, the deep-seated desire to feel your body pressed against his. You rest your hands on his shoulders to stabilize yourself. For once in your life you’re grateful to have worn a skirt. The thin, flimsy material of your panties lets you feel nearly everything. 

Breath coming in harsh gasps already, you search his gaze. For what, you’re not sure, but the amused glint in his slitted eyes makes your stomach lurch pleasantly. 

“Here’s how this is going to work, little one,” Fox says. “First, you’re gonna make yourself cum on my thigh. Second, I don’t care who walks around that corner, you don’t stop. Third, if you make any noise other than to say ‘please,’ I’m going to pull back and you have to get yourself worked up again. And finally, you’re going to cum as many times as it takes for you to beg. Are we clear?” 

Swallowing around the sudden dryness in your throat, you blink at him once. Is this a trick? He just said if you did anything other than say ‘please...’ Steeling your nerves, you nod your head slowly. 

In a terrifying display of teeth, Fox grins. “Good. So obedient already.” ‘

Defiance flares in you, and you nearly open your mouth to retort—but his grip at your waist tugs you forward, and your clothed clit gently jolts over the ridges of his scales. A moan catches in your throat at the surge of pleasure. Biting the inside of your cheek to keep yourself silent, you take over, rocking your hips back and forth, back and forth, in a steady rhythm. Pleasure, hot and simmering, burns steadily brighter in your lower belly. 

Fox’s gaze never leaves your face. The longer you stare back, the more adjusted you become to the vast difference between the human face you’d seen earlier tonight and this ruby-scaled dragon. His eyes are still the same warm amber, you realize. Locking onto that detail, your breathing hitches as you angle your hips a bit to press your clit more fully against the scales of his thigh. The cord of tension in your belly pulls a bit tighter. 

“That’s it,” he murmurs. “Make a mess all over my thigh, little one.” 

A silent ‘fuck’ forms in your mouth—you catch the noise before it slips out. Encouraged by his words, your first orgasm rolls through you without warning. Hot and slow, the waves of pleasure pulse through your body. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip; you squeeze your eyes shut, fingers twisting in Fox’s shirt, to keep yourself quiet. 

As your climax fades, you open your eyes to find Fox regarding you with a tilted head. You narrow your eyes as if to ask, What? 

“Beautiful,” he murmurs. 

Shyness blooms in your chest. Leaning forward, he presses his lips—because he does still have lips in this form—to yours. The anatomy is strange, his scales cool and dry against your mouth, but the eroticism of it sends a shiver straight to your center. When your tongue darts out to lick against him, he parts his lips. Gently, so his teeth don’t catch your soft flesh, he lets his tongue dance with yours. 

You begin to rock your hips again. Pussy lips slick with your arousal, your rhythmic movements glide easier, the pleasure building slowly once again. Pulling away from his mouth, you bury your face in his neck and reach up to his horns. You wrap your hands around the biggest pair, dark, thick, twisting growths, and use them as leverage. Fox groans, letting you pull his head forward a bit.

You know your panties are probably soaked through by now, your juices probably beginning to soak into the fabric of his pants, but you don’t care. All you can focus on is the growing pleasure in your core, the way that electricity zings up your spine with each press and pull of your sensitive clit over his thigh. You circle your hips, and the action nearly jerks a groan out of you.

“Fuck, you gonna cum again already?” Fox asks. His grip on you tightens. 

You are—you both know it. Your pace turns sloppy, stilted, as you hone in on the specific movements that keep pressure on your clit even as you slide along his thigh. Panting, you catch your bottom lip in your teeth once more. You’re so close. 

A strangled moan punches out of your throat as Fox suddenly drags you far more forward than your own movements intended. 

Immediately, Fox drops his leg, though he continues to hold you steady by your waist. Your eyes shoot open to meet his, desperation and indignation coating your tongue in bitterness. 

“Fox!” you hiss. 

“You agreed to the rules, little one,” he says with a dangerous smirk. “You know the word to make this stop. To make sure you get my cock in that soaked cunt.” 

Clamping your jaw shut, you glare at him until he decides enough time has passed. He slots his thigh between yours once more, the returned pressure making your body shake. Resuming your previous pose, your head buried in his chest, his chin resting on your shoulder, you rut against him in earnest, determined to cum again at any cost. It takes a moment, but the arousal you’d felt before comes rushing back with enough force to almost make you gasp. Tightening your grip on his horns, you rub your slick folds across his thigh with precision. 

Your muscles begin to lock up as your second orgasm approaches. Chest heaving, you grit your teeth, praying you can keep quiet this time. 

A noise of surprise sounds nearby. Yanking your head up, you lock eyes with someone—is that Mayday? But you find you can’t stop your movements, so karking close to falling over the edge of bliss that you don’t care who sees. Mayday freezes with his foot on the bottom of the nearby stairs, eyes wide as he drinks the sight of you in. Your cunt flutters around nothing now that you have an audience. 

Your orgasm begins to crest. “O-Oh—” 

Again you’re violently ripped away from the promise of relief. Orgasm fading, but heart still pounding, you tear your eyes from Mayday to focus back on Fox. He regards you with a calm, smug smirk. Tears spring to your eyes in frustration. 

The sound of Mayday’s retreating footsteps doesn’t break the stare you and Fox are locked into. Desperation claws up your chest, puncturing your pride. You want to cum. You want it so kriffin’ bad. And you know how to get what you want.

A contented puff of smoke plumes from Fox’s nostrils as if he knows you’re close to the breaking point. “Well, little one?” he prompts. 

Closing your eyes, you drop your head forward until your chin touches your chest. Quietly, for his ears only, you mumble a single word: “Please.”

“Sorry, what was that, mesh’la? Couldn’t hear you,” he says in a tone of voice that suggests otherwise. 

“Please,” you repeat, a fraction louder. 

“Mm, nope, still can’t hear you.” One clawed finger tilts your face up to his once again. His eyes are soft, questioning. He’s silently asking if you still want this.

You do. Swallowing your pride, you sigh. “Please, Fox, I want your cock.” 

All of his teeth shine in the low lamplight as a slow smile curls over his face. “Was that so hard?” 

“Yes,” you grunt out. 

He snorts but otherwise ignores you. He hoists you up, arms sliding under your ass to cradle you to him, and you wrap your legs around his middle. Taking just a few steps, he opens the nearest door and ducks inside—then immediately turns and pins you against the inside of the door.

Your clothing tears easily beneath his hands. You nearly protest—but the look in his eyes stalls your words on your tongue. First your shirt, hanging from your shoulders in tatters, then your skirt, falling to the floor with a flutter. Finally, he hooks one sharp claw under the fabric of your panties and tugs—the thin fabric shreds without resistance. 

Two can play this game, though. Grabbing two fistfuls of the front of his shirt, you yank. Buttons scatter across the floor, bouncing out of sight, when you tear his button-down open, revealing his chest. Blush red scales cover his chest and belly, and when he shrugs out of the ruined top, your mouth waters at the sight of his toned biceps rippling beneath ruby scales. But his scales aren’t exactly what you expected. Instead of being pointed and overlapping, they’re more squared, and nestle together like puzzle pieces. 

You don’t have long to salivate over him before he sets you on shaky feet and spins you around. Your breasts press into the cool metal of the door, sending a shiver through your body. Craning your head back to watch Fox strip from his pants, you groan as the rest of his body is revealed to you. The wet spot on the front of his pants bears testament to your arousal. He bunches the garment in his hands and presses it to his face, inhaling audibly. 

Gasping, you flush with warmth. But your attention is quickly drawn from his action to the bulge at the apex of his thighs. Your eyes widen. Where you had nearly expected a normal set of anatomy, instead you find a round bulge with a small slit in the center. 

Fox must feel where your stare lingers because he tosses the pants over his shoulder. Running a soothing hand down your bare back, with his other hand he gingerly frees his cock from the bulge. 

“Oh fuck,” you gasp. 

His cock is big—the bulge was deceptive in its size. And it’s pearly, nearly white, glistening with natural lubrication. The tip is ridged, and you groan at the thought of what it’ll feel like in you. 

“Still want this?” Fox asks, voice sounding strained. 

“Kriff, Fox,” you groan, arching your back and presenting your ass to him. “Yes. Please.” 

Notching the tip at your soaked entrance, he gives you a toothy grin, nearly a snarl. “Since you asked so nicely.” 

And then he slides in, inch by delicious inch. You both moan, loud enough that anyone walking by the room would be able to hear without issue, but you don’t care. His cock stretches you, splits you open, and when he comes to a halt, his balls resting against your clit, you tremble. Pussy clenching around him, you groan. 

“Fox, please,” you plead. “Need you to fuck me.” 

Wordlessly, he presses one large hand to your head to hold you in place against the door, his other hand squeezing your thigh. But he doesn’t move. He just sits there, letting his cock soak in your slick, grunting when your pussy flutters around his girth. You whine, the noise scraping out of your throat matching the level of desperation thrumming through your veins. If you just...rock your hips a little, flex your kegels like that...you might be able to cum. 

Smack! 

You yelp, the spank to your ass stinging, before Fox smooths over the heated skin. 

“Stay still,” he orders, voice raspy and gruff. “Need to feel you like this.” 

“And I need you to fuck me,” you shoot back. You flex around him again, earning you a low, growled groan. 

“Little one,” he warns. But his resolve is slipping, you can tell just by the way his voice hitches over the words. 

“Fox, please,” you whine. Then, an idea flashes through your lust-addled mind. “Please, Commander, fuck me.” 

His grip on your thigh tightens almost painfully, but your use of his title has the intended effect. He pulls his thick length out of your pussy nearly all the way, before slamming back in to the hilt. You cry out, pleasure jolting through you. Fox sets a punishing pace, the ridged head of his cock gliding against your walls and stimulating every deep part of you that you can never reach on your own. Moans and praises fall from your lips in half-coherent words; your legs quiver with the intense rush of pleasure coursing through you. 

Fox grunts with each sheathing of his cock in your tight walls. “Where can I cum?” 

“Paint my ass, Commander,” you gasp out. 

With a groan, he reaches around to your front and circles two fingers overtop your clit. Pussy clamping around him, you cry out, shoved to the edge of orgasm without warning. 

Fox pulls out and spills his warm seed all over the globes of your ass with a heady moan. The thick, sticky liquid begins to drip down the backs of your thighs, some of it spilling over your slick cunt, and Fox just uses the extra substance as added lube as he maintains a tight pace over your clit. 

His palm disappears from your head as he drops to his knees behind you. You twist just in time to watch him bury his face between your thighs, his long, forked tongue drawing up your sopping cunt, your arousal mixed with his cum. You can’t help the way your body spasms at the sight—and then he’s transforming back into a human with his face still pressed to your center. The long tongue becomes shorter, flatter, warmer, and between his licks along your folds and the way his fingers circle your sensitive clit, you fall apart with a shout.

When he finally pulls away, his face is covered in your juices. His curls, gray at his temples, fall over his sweaty forehead. His chest heaves with every breath, but a self-satisfied, smug smile curls over his pink lips.

“You good, meshl’a?” he asks. 

A shiver wracks through you as you pant against the door, legs threatening to give out. “Uh-huh. Never better.” 

Humming, Fox stands and scoops you into his arms. You’re too boneless to protest, body curling into his warmth. Carefully, he scoots onto a bed you hadn’t noticed before and tucks you both under the fine sheets. His thumb rubs soothing circles against your hip where he holds you, and under your ear, his heart rate begins to settle in tandem with yours. 

When you feel up to it, you raise your head to meet his gaze. “Guess you earned it, huh?” 

His chuckle rumbles through his chest into yours. “Never doubted that I would.”

“Cocky,” you mutter, laying your head back against his chest, a content smile curling over your lips.

Ragu: @the-hexfiles @thorsterstrudle @dystopicjumpsuit @clonemedickix @freesia-writes @littlemissmanga @wolffegirlsunite @anxiouspineapple99 @wings-and-beskar @sinfulsalutations @523rdrebel @sunshinesdaydream @moonlightwarriorqueen @sev-on-kamino @starrylothcat @deejadabbles @starqueensthings @mandos-mind-trick @idontgetanysleep @eyeluvmusic21 @wizardofrozz @mythical-illustrator @sleepycreativewriter @dreamie411 @bobaprint @imarvelatthestars @originalcollectionartistry @droids-you-are-looking-for @goblininawig @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @9902sgirl if your name has a strikethrough, I can't tag you so check your settings! (if you'd like to be added or removed, click here!)

[harrys-bf]

Fake social media | (Part 2)

Pt.1

H.S x male!reader (he/him)

A/N: Second part of the seriessss!! As always please leave some feedback💌 so i know u liked it. Also you cannot take my work and put it in another platform, thanks <3

pls give me some concepts cause im running out of ideas lol

Face claim: @hernankanno on instagram <3

liked by harrystyles, anyataylorjoy and 6,993,183 others

@yourinstagram: Today is our 6th Anniversary, 6 big years married to the love of my life and I couldn’t be more happy about it. I can only thank you for being the most amazing husband in the world, thank you for always being there for me. I can’t wait to have so many more anniversaries with you, H. I love you.

P.S: We never give content about us together so you can have this pics lol.

tagged: @harrystyles

view 78,162 comments

@harryfan4: JAW ON THE MF FLOOR

@harryfan1: HOLY SHIT

@harrystyles: I love you my dear husband.

@yourinstagram: 😚😚 ilyt

@harryfan5: shitting tears rn😍

@taylorswift: Congratulations you two!! So happy for you both!!🙌🙌💖

@adele: Yes!! Another year full of love!!

@florencepugh: Congratulations to my favourite people!!

@zendaya: Congrats!!! Another year that our besties got married!! Damn I miss the iconic wedding you had, can we have another one?

@yourinstagram: Good question daya. @harrystyles what do you think?🥱

@harrystyles: ehh

@jacobelordi: no wedding, no like.

@harrystyles: not fair.

@harryfan6: PLS OMFG ANOTHER WEDDING WOULD BE AWESOME

@harryfan1: he commented again. im exploting.

harry&y/nfan5: I would literally pass away.

y/nfan6: HAHAHHA JACOB

@benbarnes: Congrats to my fav couple!!

@harryfan6: IM SORRY BUT THE FIRST FUCKING PICTURE ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!&1):92)/91!

@harryfan9: FRRR IM CRYING SO HARD RN

y/nfan2: IM SO JEALOUS LIKE WHAT

harryfan5: idk who i want to be, harry or y/n 💀

@danaigurira: Congratulations!!! Send you both lots of love!!

@hunterschafer: Congrats besties!! So happy for you lot! Sending all my love to you both and Philip!!

(A/N: Phillip is their child lol)

@tchalamet: YooooOOOoo THAT pic

yourinstagram: AHAHQJSHQIA SHH TIMMY

@y/nfan2: what are they talking about 😭

@y/nfan8: ik, so random💀

@juliannemoore: Congratulations loves!! All my love and happiness to you both!!💖

@troyesivan: CONGRATS TO MY FAV GAYS!!😩😩😩

@yourinstagram: HAJSAJAJAHAH

liked by yourinstagram, twhiddleston and 8,173,817 others

@harrystyles: My muse and love of my life thank you for all this wonderful years, we’ve been together longer than our marriage years but ever since we got married I can just burst with love, thank you for everything y/n, I’m so excited to spend much more years and anniversaries with you, xx H.

tagged: @yourinstagram

view 97,938 comments

@yourinstagram: I love you so much H

@harrystyles: i love you more <3

harry&y/nfan2: MY PARENTS 😭💞

@gemmachan: Im going to cry, I remember when you both were just teenagers in love and now It’s your sixth anniversary as a married couple 💔😭

@yourinstagram: don’t cry 😭 youre gonna make me cry

@harrystyles: lets just dont bring up our past selves

@yourinstagram: why? you embarrassed of your old funny cringy-self? or what else u embarrassed for? the twitter thing? HAHAH

@harrstyles: I am embarrassed, of you.

@yourinstagram: OH YOU DID NOT

@gemmachan: OH HE DID NOT

@harryfan3: PLS THEYRE CHILDREN

@harryfan1: harry just wrote more comments. im going to combust

@y/nfan3: HAHAHAHAH

@tomholland2013: Congrats mates!!

@richardmadden: Congrats fellas!!

@twhiddleston: Congrats!!! 👏👏👏

@mattxhitt: Congratulations lads!!

@dominicfike: Yuhhh Harry!! Love you both mates!!

(lmao its all congratulations fellas, mates, lads, guys 💀 its hard to continue with a concept that I dont know what to do with, im just going with the flow 😭)

liked by harrystyles, phoebebridgers and other 3,719,193

@yourinstagram: we decided on going to the beach, Phillip was so excited, in fact he was that excited that he fell and cried for about ten minutes until he distracted himself with a bird 💀

view 14,173 comments

@harrystyles: it was a disaster.

@florencepugh: what happened?😭

@yourinstagram: Phillip fell, Harry and I forgot the towels, we left them at our counter, we had to wait until we dried ourselves naturally, we forgot to bring water, Harry almost got drowned by a bunch of waves and then the mosquitos attacked us. Harry’s right, it was a disaster 💀💀

@harryfan6: PLS OMG THIS IS HILARIOUS

@y/nfan: imagine harry and y/n fighting the mosquitos so they didn’t do anything to Phillip 😭

@harryfan4: HAHAHA yes but imagine Harry getting dragged by the waves 💀

@harryfan3: PLSSS

@mileycyrus: when will I get to see my not-blood-related nephew??

@yourinstagram: SOONNNN

@y/nfan3: WHAT

@tchalamet: IS PHILLIP OKAY???

@yourinstagram: yes, not a single scratch in his body, istg that baby can be so dramatic sometimes 💀

@harrystyles: he is your son after all.

@yourinstagram: WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY

@gemmachan: AHSIWHAKLMFAOO HARRY😭

@harryfan5: AHHAHHAHA HARRY

@harryfan4: PLSSS

liked by yourinstagram, harrystyles and 198,728 others

@gemmastyles: Phillip met some goats for the first time today, he loved them 😭😭

tagged: @harrystyles and @yourinstagram

view 89,809 comments

@yourinstagram: PLS WHEN HE BACKED OFF THE GOAT AND FELL BECAUSE HE GOT SCARED AHAHAH💀

@gemmastyles: IT WAS SO FUNNY

@harrystyles: poor phillip, if only he knew you guys laugh when he falls 😕

@yourinstagram: you laughed too, dont lie, even snorted trying to stifle your laugh 💀

@harryfan5: AHAJSHWIAH EXPOSED

@harryfan7: PLSSS HARRY

@harryfan8: that means we have more dadrry concepts yall

@harryfan9: ^ HAJAHAHS PLEASE, fanfic writers fellas wya

@mileycyrus: I’m so jealous 🥱

@yourinstagram: WE’LL SEE YOU SOON DONT WORRY

@harryfan8: MMM SUS

@florencepugh: I miss Phillip sm, BRING HIM TO ME👹

@yourinstagram: pls, everybody wants to see Phillip 😭

@harrystyles: it’s his Styles genetics, the little lad is such an icon

@yourinstagram: -🥸🤓

@harryfan6: he called harry a grandpa nerd PLSSSS

@y/nfan6: this is gold 😭

[asweetprologue]

my burden to bear

@sugar-and-spice-witcher-bingo

Prompt: Piggyback Relationships: Geralt/Jaskier Rating: Gen Content Warnings: None Summary: Jaskier gets hurt during a hunt and Geralt has to carry him back to town. Jaskier has mixed feelings about this. ao3

“You’re hurt,” Geralt said. Jaskier groaned from his position on the ground, more at Geralt’s tone than any amount of pain.

“I think I’m fine,” he said, pushing himself up into a sitting position. When they’d come to the woods, they’d been working under the assumption that the creature plaguing the nearby village was nothing more than an overactive godling or maybe a hag. Neither of them had been expecting a leshen, and no amount of staying back from the fight did any good when your opponent could sense your location through the ground. While Geralt was valiantly slaying the beast, Jaskier had been darting away from roots shooting up from the ground and attempting to impale him. They’d not succeeded, but they had managed to send him sprawling as he tripped over an exposed root. He’d feared he was done for when suddenly the writhing plant life had collapsed. Though he was pleased to be still in one piece, his ankle throbbed traitorously where the root had tugged his feet out from under him. 

Geralt narrowed his eyes suspiciously and offered him a hand up. 

Jaskier took it and allowed himself to be pulled to standing, only to stumble as soon as he put weight on his left leg. Geralt caught him as his knees buckled, one hand snapping out to grab him by the elbow. Jaskier’s face lit up, heat spilling over his cheeks in an embarrassed flush. “Ah, shit,” he cursed. 

“Hmm,” Geralt agreed, looking down at the offending appendage with a stormy expression. “No Roach.” 

“So true,” Jaskier said morosely. They’d left Geralt’s trusty steed behind for this venture, as the brush was generally too thick for her to navigate. The village was a good mile or two away. Jaskier’s ankle seemed to throb even more intensely at the thought of the walk. “Well, nothing for it I suppose. I’ll manage.” He tried to pull out of Geralt’s grasp, gingerly testing the weight on his ankle. It felt like being stabbed in the tendon with a razor, but he would be alright. He had plenty of experience limping along beside Geralt on the Path. This time it would just be a bit more literal. 

Geralt did not release him, much to Jaskier’s surprise. “You’ll make it worse,” he said, mouth tightening. Jaskier’s pulse, only just having begun to settle down now that the leshen was dead, began to rise again. Angry Geralt he was plenty used to, but angry-at-him Geralt was not something he enjoyed. They both knew that Jaskier was a liability at best on hunts, and he was well aware that he was only ever one misstep from being left behind, at least for the truly adventurous moments. He hadn’t realized it would be an actual misstep that did him in. 

“I can manage, Geralt, I swear,” he protested. “What else am I meant to do? Stay here forever? I’m sure I could make a nice home out of the leshen’s abandoned burrow. House. Whatever.”

“They don’t have those,” Geralt said dismissively. “I could get Roach.”

“Sure. So I can be eaten by the wolves that ran off when you killed the beastie. I’m sure they’ll be eager to finish the fight once the huge man with the swords fucks off. I’ll walk, it’ll be fine, I’ll -”

“I’ll carry you.”

Jaskier blinked, and then blinked again. He must have heard wrong. “Come again?”

Geralt glared at him, as if daring him to offer up a different solution. “I’ll carry you. It’s not that far of a walk, and I still have Thunderbolt in my system. It wouldn’t be hard.”

If Jaskier had thought he was flushed before, it was nothing compared to now. “Ah, well. Um. Are you certain? I suppose - I really can walk, truly -” He took a step backwards, away from the warm hand that still cupped his elbow, only to nearly drop to the ground when a bolt of pain shot up his ankle. Even his knee ached with it. Geralt caught him around the waist, hauling him upright again and, unfortunately, directly into the witcher’s space. Jaskier gasped at the contact more than the near tumble, though he hoped Geralt thought it was just the surprise. 

“I can see that,” Geralt said dryly, their nose barley inches apart. Jaskier swallowed. 

“I take your point. How, uh, how do you want to do this?”

Geralt released him, allowing Jaskier to take a deep, fortifying breath. Leaning all his weight on his good leg, he waited while Geralt turned around and knelt down on the mossy forest floor. Jaskier exhaled slowly. “Put your arms around my shoulders,” Geralt said. 

Jaskier ran a hand along his face, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. “This is so infantilizing,” he grumbled, but he leaned over and pressed his chest to Geralt’s back, wrapping his arms around his broad shoulders. He was extraordinarily grateful for Geralt’s armor, separating him from the heat of his body. As it was, he still felt like he might spontaneously combust when Geralt’s large hands came up to grip under his thighs and raised him effortlessly into the air. 

Holy fuck. “Melitele,” he said, “do I weigh anything to you?”

“No,” Geralt said with an amused huff. He began to take sure steps through the clearing and back the way they’d come. Jaskier shifted to find a more comfortable position for his arms, and found that he could lift them away entirely without Geralt dropping him an inch. 

“I feel like a toddler,” he groused. 

“Next time watch your step,” Geralt grunted. 

They made their way through the forest slowly, Geralt carefully navigating the underbrush. Jaskier was aware that he was being more delicate with his footwork than he typically was, avoiding any areas that might throw him off balance or land Jaskier with a face full of branches. He was being nice, Jaskier realized, not even getting back at him for the fact that he had to carry Jaskier’s sorry ass through the woods. Always so chivalrous. 

That was Geralt though. Even when he was grumpy and upset and probably worn out from a fight, he was always going out of his way to be kind. He wasn’t always nice, Geralt, but he was almost always kind. It was a miracle, honestly, that he didn’t lose hold of his temper more often than he did. They would bicker, often, and fight, sometimes. But even when he was mad, Geralt was often still considerate, still worried about Jaskier’s safety and comfort. He was always taking absurdly underpaid jobs, even taking payment in a simple meal or a roof over his head sometimes, just because there were people in danger. This village, for example, had scraped together a tiny purse to offer a passing witcher, desperation writ on their faces. Seven people, including two children, had disappeared in the last season. It was a small village, only a little cluster of houses, and such a loss must have been felt deeply. Geralt had looked at the purse, a frown maring his features, and pushed it back into the alderman’s dirty hands. The job had ended up being even more dangerous than he’d assumed, but Jaskier knew Geralt wouldn’t take payment beyond maybe a warm loaf of bread and some hearty stew from the alderman’s wife. 

It was wildly unfair that the reputation of witchers remained so heavily tarnished. That Geralt’s reputation still suffered so. It was starting to mend - in the decade since Jaskier had begun traveling with him, the White Wolf ballads had become popular, enough so that many towns they passed through were already ready to throw their crowns and orens at his feet. But the further north they went, the closer to Blaviken, the less people were swayed by his songs. People didn’t always see what Jaskier saw. Not everyone felt the depth of affection swell in their breast at the sight of his silver hair and golden eyes, regardless of how many times Jaskier tried to put it to words. Maybe it wasn’t something he would ever be able to capture. This haunting, aching thing inside him that just loved and loved and loved Geralt of Rivia. 

He wished he could do more, more to alleviate Geralt’s pain and stress. And instead here he was, only putting more weight on his shoulders. Literally. Jaskier rested his forehead against the leather of Geralt’s armor with a sigh. That was the story of his life, though. Try to help, get in the way, get pushed aside. An infallible cycle. 

“Alright?” Geralt asked suddenly. Jaskier blinked back to himself, attempting to shake off the shroud of self pity that had settled over him. 

“Hmm?” he responded, lifting his head from Geralt’s shoulder. “Alright what?”

“I’m asking,” Geralt said. “You’re quiet. That only ever happens if you’re writing a song or you’re dying.” He paused. “It’s only your ankle?”

Jaskier huffed out a laugh, stirring the hairs at the base of Geralt’s neck. The silver strands were pulled back into a short pony, leaving the pale expanse of skin beneath exposed. Jaskier had to tamp down the swift and overpowering urge to tuck his nose into the spot just behind Geralt’s ear, to press his lips to the scar just above the line of his armor, where some monster must have gotten in a lucky hit. Forcing himself to focus, he said, “Just the ankle, I swear. I’m only thinking.”

“So it is a song,” Geralt said darkly. 

“A great ballad about how the White Wolf of Rivia once again saved a humble bard,” he agreed, eagerly latching onto the half lie. “You’ve made a bit of a habit of it.”

Geralt grunted, sounding unamused. Suddenly there was a burst of sunlight across Jaskier’s vision, warm on his face. They stepped out of the forest and onto the small dirt track that led to the village, which Jaskier could just barely see peeking out over the rise of the next hill over. The sky was a sprawling blue tapestry above them, not a cloud in sight. “I don’t like it,” Geralt said, stopping to scan the road briefly. 

Jaskier’s throat felt tight. “Saving me?”

Geralt hummed an affirmative and began walking again, towards the village. 

Jaskier let out a long breath, equal parts annoyed and hurt. “Well no one’s asking you to,” he snapped. “I know it’s, I don’t know, part of your job, but you don’t need to go out of your way.”

Geralt shook his head, nearly hitting Jaskier in the face with his short ponytail. “It’s not a fucking chore, Jaskier. I just don’t - I wish you didn’t need saving.”

“Well, you and me both,” Jaskier said. “I know you think I do it on purpose, but I don’t actually want to get in the way.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt gritted out. Truly annoyed now. “Nothing you do could keep me from doing my job.”

“Well obviously you always finish the fight, I wouldn’t imagine you’d just quit on my behalf -”

“I don’t like it,” Geralt interrupted, “because I don’t like this.” He moved one hand to Jaskier’s injured ankle, the touch feather light. Jaskier’s knees tightened automatically to hold himself in place, but it was barely necessary. Geralt was strong enough to hold him in one hand. It made Jaskier feel deeply fragile, but not necessarily in a bad way. More like something precious and delicate. Worthy of being preserved. It made his fingers tingle where they were latched together between Geralt’s collarbones, just at the base of his throat. 

“Oh,” he said, at a loss for words. “I didn’t know that it, um. Well - I’m really fine.”

“I know,” Geralt said, sounding tired and a little amused. “You always are, mostly. I still don’t like it.” He tapped a finger against the heel of Jaskier’s boot, still light, and then put his hand back to support Jaskier’s thigh. “Sometimes I forget that you’re not like witchers.”

Jaskier laughed outright at that. “I can’t imagine how you could lose track of that piece of information. I complain about my bad eyesight and sore feet daily, as you are certainly aware. I’m the same as any other human.”

“You’re really not,” Geralt said, so quiet that it almost seemed to be said to himself. Jaskier stilled at that, startled and somehow warmed by the sentiment. 

“Thank you,” he finally said. They were nearly to the outskirts of the village, where hopefully they would find a warm welcome with the alderman or another grateful peasant. They might be given a place to rest for the night, maybe a few, while Jaskier’s ankle healed. Maybe they would be asked to move along, and Geralt would let him ride on Roach for a few days, and in the evening he would give Jaskier the salve he used for bruises and pulled muscles. Maybe even rub it into his swollen foot himself.  “I’m sorry to burden you.”

“You’re not a burden, Jask,” Geralt said. Then he laughed, a dry rasp that Jaskier never tired of hearing. “Well, alright. Technically you are at the moment. But I don’t mind.” As they reached the first house, he gently set Jaskier on his feet, turning to offer support. Jaskier let him slip a broad arm around his back, Jaskier’s own stretched out across Geralt’s shoulder to grip at the rough leather there. After having Geralt’s face hidden from him on the walk back, the sudden confrontation with golden eyes and square jaw was enough to make Jaskier flustered. Their faces were close now, and it felt almost too intimate, too raw after being unable to see Geralt’s expression during the rest of their conversation. Geralt quirked a small smile at him, a fondness there that Jaskier felt echoed in his own chest. “I don’t like it when you get hurt, but I don’t mind saving you.” 

Jaskier couldn’t help but smile back, even though his heart was racing and he knew his face was flushed from their proximity. “I suppose I’ll have to let you keep doing it then,” he said, only the tiniest bit breathless. 

“Good,” Geralt said, and together they took their first steps into the village. “But for the love of the gods, at least try not to get yourself into trouble.”

Jaskier laughed even as his ankle flared with renewed pain and he spotted a few villagers stepping out of their homes, concern plastered across their faces for the injured bard. So it would be hot stew, he thought giddily, and a warm place by the fire, and Geralt would still probably rub that salve into his ankle. He could be satisfied with that. “Geralt, my dearest, just try and stop me.”

[greenninjagal-blog]

The Rumor Mill Game (pt4)

I swear I didn’t forget about this au. This chapter is just....long.

Welcome back to this mess of an au :) If you need a refresher, you can find Part Three [here!] Or if you’re new check out the first part [here!]

Summary: Logan is...dealing with the fallout of him and his coworker, Remus, having created a rumor about them being married and now apparently having a kid except not because Logan screamed at the top of his lungs that Virgil wasn’t his kid. His boss has a different definition for what “dealing” actually means. 

Words: 8292 (Holy shit remember when this au was 2k words)

Read on Ao3 || My General Writing Masterlist

When Logan had seen his boss after he made Virgil cry, he hadn’t expected it to end up like this.

Granted when he hadn’t exactly been expecting anything. He hadn’t been looking ahead, hadn’t been making plans, hadn’t been thinking at all. Which was most likely how he ended up outside the bar in the first place. 

Logan could, of course, count the number of times he had been drunk on one hand. College had been a time for experimenting, and of course for his twenty-first birthday his friends at the time had been insistent that he needed to imbibe an unholy amount of alcohol in one night. They had turned it into an experiment, where Logan documented exactly what he was feeling after each drink and he still had the notes in his desk at home, despite the fact that his handwriting had become illegible after the fifth drink and someone had spilled an orange soda based tonic on the third page. The notes themselves were worthless, but they served as a memoir to people who he no longer associated with and a younger version of himself who had still been learning.

And Logan did have a soft spot for that imbecile: Twenty-one-year-old Logan Ackroyd who still believed in the goodness of people and who wanted to change the world and who could fall in lov--

Logan pitied him-- that kid he used to be-- which he was certain that his younger self would be indignant about. Logan always did hate when people pitied him. Those emotions had rarely ever been genuine, rarely ever been helpful, rarely been productive. What was he to do about people feeling bad for him? About others being disappointed? About others making assumptions about him and how he felt?

He didn’t need pity, and he didn’t want it. Not when he got rejected to his first three colleges, not when flunked that English class and had to pay to retake it the next year, not when he had bought that ring and gotten down on one knee and made a whole carefully edited speech and--

And he’s not nearly drunk enough to deal with these types of thoughts. Or any thoughts for that matter. Wouldn’t it just be great to stop thinking? 

Then he wouldn’t have to remember the looks on his coworkers faces when he storming into the office less than fifteen minutes after initially leaving for lunch and demanded that Beatrice turn in her overdue spreadsheets in twenty minutes or he’d have her fired before slamming his office door hard enough to crack that frosted glass, or the look on Remus- fucking- Prince’s face when he tried to act like everything that had happened was not his fault and that Logan had taken the game to far by himself without any sort of prompting from Remus, or the look on Virgil’s face when Logan lost his self control.

Like an idiot. Like an asshole. Like someone who doesn’t think before he acts.

Like someone who should be alone for the rest of his life, because he can’t seem to get a hold of those useless emotions of his. 

And Logan wanted so very badly to blame Remus Prince for this whole endeavor, the whole production, the whole catastrophe. He wanted to say that without Remus he never would have gotten that angry, wouldn’t have had that conversation, wouldn’t have even gotten Thai today. 

Logan wanted to say that, but really it's his own fault. If he had just dismissed Remus’s rumor in the beginning, if he had just told Jen and Quin that his personal business was his own, if he had just ignored the urge to get coffee and finished the spreadsheets without getting up that last night.

His fourth finger itched around the base, the area where that little silver ring had been sitting for less than a day. It was ridiculous, utterly ridiculous, because Logan had never worn a ring before and now suddenly the absence of it caused his skin to crawl in a most unpleasant, unproductive way. 

Distantly Logan realized that by gifting Remus such a wonderful present, he had also thrown away four hundred dollars. And perhaps ironically Logan noted that he feels annoyed about it-- four hundred dollars had been sitting in a pocket of a dress jacket in the corner of his office for over nine months and he had tossed it aside in a fit of impulsive anger.

Logan had not been hurting for money recently, with how decently he was paid, and the amount of overtime he worked, and how little time he had taken off since that disastrous night.

But perhaps he might have been able to return it to the jewelers and weathered the terrible, awful pitying looks they would give him when he requested about their refund policy or a location where he might be able to sell it himself. It was a ring that was worth four hundred dollars and he had given it to Remus, and isn’t it funny that that’s farther than he got with the one for whom the ring had been originally intended?

And as Logan downed his next rum and coke of the night, he hoped that Remus found a better use for it. Newton knows it hadn't done any good for Logan. 

(Its stupid, Logan knew, to blame a ring for the way that he had screeched “He’s not and never will be our son!” Its stupid, Logan knew, to blame a ring for the way that Remus had hummed mischievously “I think I enjoy being fake-married to you, Logan." Its stupid, Logan knew, to blame a ring for the the way his last partner had said “We should see other people”. Its stupid, stupid, stupid--)

“Hmmm,” A voice behind him said, “I thought I would find you here!”

Logan didn’t realize he had closed his eyes until he heard the voice and felt every atom in his body figuratively threaten to combust. He wasn’t drunk enough to be thinking about him, and he most certainly wasn’t drunk enough to turn and look at the incessantly, perky man that had decided to sit down next to him.

Logan waved at the bartender and ordered another rum and coke and watched his freshly emptied glass disappear like the handful of others he didn’t bother to keep count of.

“And I’ll have two waters, please!” Patton Hart added with one of his peppy, happy, insufferable laughs, before turning to face Logan. “Hiya, Lo! It's been so long since we’ve seen each other!”

“Not long enough,” Logan disagreed, with a rueful smile that should very clearly, very precisely detail how much he does not want company at the current moment. “Don’t you have things to be doing tonight, Mr. Hart?”

Patton hummed, pressing his lips together as he thought-- a monumental task for someone like him, surely. Logan was partially convinced that if he removed his glasses he might be able to see the squirrels beginning to run on that rusted wheel in the other man’s brain. If Logan was of a less logical mind he might even be brazen enough to call this the first time Patton had used his brain all week.

“Well,” Patton said, carefully settling himself on the stool next to Logan. “I was graciously informed by my son that he would be enjoying the perks of being a teenager with no bedtime tonight and along with where exactly I could shove my homemade lasagna.” He laughed lightly, “Kids, these days! He really does keep me on my toes!” 

Logan did his best not to roll his eyes. “I do not know the whereabouts of your son, Mr. Hart.”

“Patton,” He said easily, “And I’m not here for my son. I’m here for you, Logan.”

“If this is about the glass in my door, you are very capable of taking that out of my paycheck.” Logan told him.

The bartender placed Logan’s new rum and coke in front of him and he reached for it almost immediately, only stopping when Patton’s hand landed on his forearm.

“Mr. Hart--”

“Patton,” Patton corrected with that smile that Logan suspected was the worst thing in the world. Worse than Virgil’s blank expression when he told them to get out, worse than Remus’s smug one when he suggested that Logan did indeed enjoy the ability to manipulate his coworkers, worse than Beatrice faulty excel sheets, than broken glass of his door, than a ring he never wanted to see again and yet he still felt like it was missing from his finger.

“Mr. Hart,” Logan said again, “I am going to get horrifically drunk tonight, and I will be calling out sick tomorrow, regardless of what you say. So my advice to you is, say anything of importance now, before I am too incoherent to register and respond accordingly.”

“That doesn’t sound too smart there, kiddo!” Patton said, like he was any older than Logan was.

“I do not feel like being smart right now,” Logan said snippily. Because being smart involved thinking, and Logan had done quite enough thinking for the day. He was tired of thinking, tired of memories, tired of the lump in his chest that had formed during his lunch break and hadn’t dissolved in the eight hours since. He was tired.

“Would you like me to be smart for you?” Patton asked.

Ah.

Yes, Logan remembered suddenly with just a few words why he hated Patton Hart so much. Why he hated those too-wide brown eyes, those stupid freckles, that soft smile. Why he hated the way that Patton had tracked him down despite the fact that he had turned off his phone, the way that Patton had ordered two waters, the way that he hadn’t taken off his jacket. The way that he had taken out his keys and put them on the bar counter between them and Logan could pick out his own house key from the jumbled mess of bits and bobs.

“I heard something pretty interesting today,” Patton said, when Logan didn’t reply because he was too busy remembering why he hated Patton so much.

“Please don’t pretend like you didn’t know about my so-called affair before I did.” Logan snapped. “Honestly, Patton!” Logan dropped his arm from the glass and instead pressed his knuckles to his forehead. “Playing dumb about your own company is my least favroite thing about you.”

“I thought you hated my laugh the most.” Patton looked at him, letting the smile slip into something more serious.

“I hate everything about you.” 

“Pay for the drinks, Lo.” Patton told him, “And I’ll take you home. We can have some of my lasagna and watch a space documentary, like we’re twenty years old again.” 

Logan hated Patton and hated the way his chest ached at the offer. His knuckles bore into the side of his head, jabbing the frame of his own glasses into this temple. He hated the way that Patton was looking at him, soft and sweet and naive.

He hated the way his fingers itched to take Patton’s hand and go home.

“And after all that,” Patton continued so lightly, “You can tell me all about how Remus Prince got under your skin.”

 Logan’s hand slammed on the counter, so suddenly he surprised himself. Patton, however, didn’t flinch, didn’t even blink, didn’t react other than to hold that smile. 

“I am not drunk enough to be talking about Remus Prince,” Logan spat. “Especially not to you, Patton.”

Patton was quiet and at first, Logan really had thought that he had won something-- he thought that perhaps Patton would grant him mercy and let him drown his sorrows alone and miserable in a bar until he forgot his own name. But Patton was too good of a friend and Logan really should hate him less for that.

“You know,” Patton said with a cold type of humor that doused Logan with awareness. Bad awareness. The type of awareness that sunk it’s metaphorical claws into Logan’s chest and pierced straight through his heart before Patton finished what he was saying. “I think….yeah that does sound familiar. Do you remember the last time you said you weren’t drunk enough to tell me something?”

Logan did.

Logan couldn’t forget if he tried. 

And he had tried so very hard for so very long-- except that Remus Prince had waltzed into Logan’s life, had called him a Robot, had smirked at him and run their coworkers around like cattle with pretty little words. Except that Remus Prince had gotten bored and decided that the only logical next course of action was to mess with Logan’s personal life. 

Except that Remus Prince had played along with the rumor game, and smiled at him, and kissed him, and---

And Logan had started thinking---

And Logan’s mouth had started moving--

And Virgil face had--

Logan reached for the glass in front of him, reaching for the cool ice and the spritzy carbonation and the burn of the rum.  

Patton watched him, blinking in the long, slow, dumb way of his that had fooled just about every person that he had come in contact with. With the goofy smile and the habit of deliberately misunderstanding key phrases and making puns and jokes when things were tense, it was hard to see him as anything other than a rich son who became CEO via thinly veiled nepotism. 

Logan knocked back the drink, blinking back the burn behind his eyes that were from the alcohol and definitely not from the lump in his throat that had started dissolving.

He didn’t want to close his eyes, because he knew what he would see when he did: a nice suit, a fancy dinner, a walk to the bridge dotted with fairy lights of all things. He’d see that stupid ring, that stupid face, that stupid end of the night that everyone had told him would be nice, and perfect, and everything he would ever want! 

And he didn’t want to think about how it had not been nice or perfect or anything either of them had ever wanted!

He didn’t want to think about how years ago he had come to a bar just like this, and tried to get so drunk he could pretend that it hadn’t happened, and Patton had shown up then and offered him a job and--

“He wants to go by Janus now,” Patton said, picking up one of the waters and taking a sip.

Logan squinted at him and tried not to be happy about the distraction from his own thoughts, “Who?”

“My son,” Patton said, like it was obvious he had switched back to a neutral topic. “He told me earlier during our phone call he wants to go by Janus, now. He said he’s hated the name Dante for forever. Can you believe it, Lo?”

Logan couldn’t actually. Because he had known Patton since they themselves were teenagers, since before Patton had brought up how empty being a CEO was without anyone to come home too, since Patton had first invited him to Sunday brunch and introduced him to the child he called “son”. Logan had babysat Dante when Patton had business trips and Dante had always been proud of himself, of his better-than-the-status-quo lifestyle, of his name that held power and prestige and weight.

Dante had been practicing saying his name in the mirror since before his voice cracked. Dante Hart, future CEO. Dante Hart, son of Patton Hart. Dante Hart. 

“He’s a teenager,” Logan said, “He’s rebelling.”

“Maybe so!” Patton laughed, and it dwindled down to something that was easier felt in the air than definable in terms Logan was familiar with, “Gosh, I love him so much, Lo. My baby! He’s growing up so fast now! The other day he told me he had a boyfriend. He’s at that stage where he doesn’t want me to help him anymore!”

And despite the buffoon having not had a single drop of alcohol, Patton was tearing up. Logan gritted his teeth at the implications of a weepy, teary, so-full-of-emotions Patton. He had spent enough time in college trying to console him as he figured out the whole “Why does it always have to be about sex? Why can’t I just love hugging someone, Lo? Why does everyone make me feel so broken?” Logan hadn’t been any good back then, and he definitely hadn’t gotten better with time. 

After that disaster with the last guy, Logan had decided that feeling things, frivolous things, emotion-like things, were not something he was into anymore.

Logan learned from his mistakes, after all.

Even the mistakes that started with “R” and ended in a $400 ring being thrown away.

“Is that why you’re here, Mr. Hart?” Logan asked, in that way of his that told even Patton with his squirrel run brain that it wasn’t actually a question at all. “You can’t baby your son anymore so you’ve moved on to the next best thing?”

Patton stuck his tongue in his cheek and set his water back down. “Patton.” He stressed. “And I’m not here to baby you, Logan. I’m here to be your friend.”

He said “friend” like it was a word in the dictionary Logan didn’t know. It was infuriating: the insinuation that Logan had never cracked open a dictionary before, that he was so unknowledgeable about the concept of a friend that Patton was about to show him the online Oxford dictionary definition, like someone who played dumb all day and peppered his windows with sticky notes in the shape of a game of Frogger knew more about something than Logan who had clawed his way up from nothing and was constantly needing to prove how he earned his position.

Patton nudged the second water in Logan’s direction.

Logan stared at it, at the condensation on the glass, at the ice cubes, at the refraction of the low lights from the bar counter. He stared at it like it was a portal back through time that would allow him to slam some sense into poor, pitiful twenty-one-years-old Logan before he let himself fall in Love.

Before he bought a ring or stopped taking days off unless Patton tromped down to his office himself. Before Remus Prince borrowed his cup and before Logan got it in his head that he was serving revenge rather than idiocracy. Before he let himself think too little and say too much and hurt a kid that had never deserved to be upset before in his life.

“If my son wants to be called Janus, I’ll call him that,” Patton says softly. “Because even if it doesn’t make sense to me, it means something to him. And even if my friend is struggling with emotions that don’t make sense to me, I’m still gonna try to help him, Lo.”

Patton ducked his head just a little, just enough that he managed to catch Logan’s strategically averted gaze and make something out of it: a swell of guilt, a sense of hope, a pinch of safety and unadulterated kindness.

His throat was dry, but it was the type of dry that couldn’t be fixed with a glass of water.

“I made a kid cry,” Logan said, because self loathing is a coat he had thought he’d outgrown but he can still fit his arms in the sleeves.

Patton nodded. “Yeah, I heard about that.” He sipped his water. “I think we all have at one point or another.”

“See, the distinct difference that you are missing here, Patton, is that you are a father.” Logan snapped, “And your son will cry at the drop of a hat if he thinks he can get something out of it. And you would never harm a child! Not for any reason in the entire world!”

“And you would?”

“I did.” Logan felt himself sink into the chair, sink like an anchor in the ocean, sink like the floor below him had turned into a blackhole. “I did, I did it. What type of person does that make me?”

“I hate to break it to you, Lo,” Patton said, as kindly as he could, which Logan knew was truly, sickenly nice. He wanted to choke on the sentiment but he found that he couldn’t quite make his chest hurt the way he wanted it too when it came to Patton’s pity.

 “But that just means you’re a normal person.” Patton smiled dumbly, tilting his head and shrugging. “Everyone says things they don’t mean sometimes.”

“You don’t.”

“I do,” Patton countered gently, “Like when I hired Beatrice before realizing that she had lied about knowing how to use Excel.”

“Fuck, Beatrice,” Logan agreed, because if he closed his eyes too hard he thought he might still see grid patterns as much as he might see Virgil’s hurt expression and he hated it so much. So much. 

“I also told-- Janus once that I would get him anything he wanted for his birthday, and he asked for a snake.” Patton shuddered, almost comically, “And you saw how that turned out.”

“I’ve always been impressed with his ability to sneak things into the school buildings,” Logan sighed. “I doubt anyone has ever forgotten that Show-and-Tell.”

Patton chuckled quietly. It was almost lost in the buzz of the other patrons in the bar. He drew a smiley face in the condensation on his glass and Logan reached over to wipe it away, like he had done a hundred seventeen times since college.

“So….Lasagna?” Patton offered. “We can make some garlic bread too.”

“I regret ever meeting you,” Logan said, even as he picked up the keys on the counter between them. He wished that Patton didn’t look so self satisfied, so pleased, so smug when the words tumbled from his lips, but Patton had never been one to pertain to the wishes and whims of Logan like that.

Settling his tab was quick; a pile of bills from his wallet that he didn’t actually check, but decided the bartender deserved anyway and then Patton linked their elbows together so that Logan couldn’t walk off the way that he used to when he would agree with Patton just to get him to shut up. Logan snagged Patton’s glasses from his head and fogged them up with his breath, before taking on the tedious task of cleaning the fingerprints off the lens meticulously while walking in a wobbling straight line. 

Patton laughed like silver bells and it alone brightened the entire street with a type of magic that Logan had long since given up on trying to scientifically explain. The poet in him that Logan had buried under Calculus classes and Statistics courses and a Business degree and only let out when the alcohol out weighed the blood in his system, whispered that it was because it was Patton and his aloofness, and his kindness, and his generosity that never made any sense, and wasn’t that reason enough for the universe to lighten up?

It was drizzling outside, scattered raindrops and dark heavy clouds that whispered of a thunderstorm later. Patton skipped, Logan rolled his eyes and let himself be dragged towards the familiar pale blue punch buggy. It was the same exact car from their college time together, if one ignored the frankenstein replacements of just about every single component in it. Patton clung to the car the same way he had clung to the delusion of Logan being a good friend; sticking close through every breakdown, excusing every letdown, and spending far too much money on it when economically it would have been more beneficial to just let them go.

A wave of self loathing wrapped over Logan again when he pulled on the car door. Patton was genuinely a good person, a good friend. He was stupid at times and he made decisions that made Logan was to strangle him, but he cared so much more than other people. He offered fourth and fifth chances when Logan would have stone-walled his offender at one. 

Not to mention, he had come out in the rain to find Logan specifically, probably traversing through three other bars to find the one that Logan had chosen to be his misery echo chamber.

By some sort of lucky happenstance, Logan had originally walked far enough to hail a taxi  to get to this bar, leaving his car in the safety of the parking garage where Patton’s company paid a nice sum for security. Logan had tried to argue about that expense with him back in the day, but Patton had pulled out a picture of his toothy grinning son-- Janus-- and said “Lo!! What if my son comes to visit when he learns to drive?! I don’t want to worry about him getting attacked in the parking garage!” 

Logan had brutally pointed out that his son would never visit him during work, and so far he had been correct in that assessment, but that didn’t stop him from feeling the slightest bit guilty about his bluntness even so much time later.

Patton had always looked for the best in people, had more strength than most of humanity, had more hope in happy endings that Logan had trust in fact and numbers.

“Is your son okay with me calling him Janus? I’m unsure of etiquette on this. Should I wait until he tells me his preference or should I just make the switch and not bring it up to him?” Logan asked with a sigh as Patton pulled out of the parking spot and set them towards Patton’s house on the other side of town. Unobstructed and following the driving laws, it would only take them about fifteen minutes, and yet Logan wondered about the possibility of Patton having Advil in the car.

The back of his head was already aching from the days events: banging his head on the keyboard all morning leading up to his disastrous lunch date, Remus, Virgil, squinting at spreadsheets until he couldn’t make out the numbers anymore, and the of course stumbling his way to the bar and dealing with Patton.

Patton giggled. “Oh yeah! I asked him earlier if it was okay to tell you. He said he wanted you to call him Janus now. He also said to tell you, you can take a hike.”

Knowing Janus, it was probably something more volatile than “taking a hike”. Most likely it had been something that might have required him to put a full five dollars in the swear jar that they kept on the counter next to the cookie jar. Not that it would matter much. Logan had stayed over at their house dozens of times and every single time he had come across Janus taking that money back out of that swear jar.

As far as Logan was aware, the swear jar had never actually been full. Patton must have noticed at some point-- probably that very first time Janus had taken the money back out-- but he was irritating insistent that he play dumb about it. Thus, Janus continued to swear in excess, Patton continued to make him put money in a swear jar for no real reason, and Logan continued to never understand either of them.

The radio in Patton’s car had been broken fifteen times since Patton had gotten it, but Logan assumed from the silence of the drive that it was now sixteen. He rested his elbow on the window and watched the drizzle turn into a steady rain and the windshield wipers flutter across their vision to occasionally bring them clarity.

The night life was somewhat dreary. The driving pace was slow, and they hit every single stop light in the city because that was just Logan’s luck. There were a few people running around in the rain: a family with a small child who was jumping in every slowly forming puddle on the sidewalk, a couple sharing an umbrella walking so close together they appeared as if to be one misshapen form, a group of friends chatting outside a 24 hour dinner in raincoats, and a few smokers huddled under an alcove with embers burning just enough for Logan to make out their forms through the downpour. 

Logan realized almost immediately that the pit in his stomach was much more bearable if he instead focused on the raindrops on the window that are much easier to look at, much less representing something that Logan had always expected he might one day have, much less accusatory in wondering what is wrong with him that he can’t act like a normal human being, this isn’t working, who wants to marry a robot like you--

That was the reason why he wasn’t expecting the sudden jerk of the car coming to a hard stop at a yellow light that they absolutely could have made. 

“PATTON!” Logan yelled.

The car behind them blared it’s horn and Logan rubbed his neck and reset his glasses from the sudden movement, ready to question what exactly Patton thought he was doing, because truly of all the things Logan was not in the mood for, this was one of them. 

Except that before Logan could get any words out, Patton had put the car in park and whipped off his seatbelt to kick open his door. A wave of rain came pouring into the car as the man threw himself from the driver's seat like there was something wrong with the car, and for a second Logan entertained the absurd idea that they were going to blow up.

Which truly, would have just been a fitting end to his horrific day.

“Patton!” Logan hissed, grabbing after the other’s coat to pull him back inside before the rain soaked into the seats. “Get back in th--”

The other man ignored him, frantically waving to someone in the rain. “REMUS!! MR. PRINCE!! OVER HERE!!”

If Logan knew slightly less about human biology he might have been inclined to say that his heart jumped straight to his throat and climbed its way up his esophagus to strangle him. He wouldn’t have recognized the figure on the street corner on his own: Remus Prince was wearing a black leather jacket and jeans with holes in the knees. He was soaked to the bone, without an umbrella, and his usual bouncy brown curls were matted to his head, as if he had been walking out in the rain for much longer than the rain had been sweeping through the city.

He was standing with the smokers under their minimal tarp, although he, himself, was without a cigarette at all. When he turned at the call of his name, there was only confusion and exhaustion in his face. None of the smugness, or the ego, or the energy that he usually had.

Logan didn’t know why that bothered him. He was hurting from earlier; that was good. 

After all, it was Remus’s ridiculous game that he had dragged everyone else into. 

((Logan’s finger itched and he dug his nails into his skin so deeply he was afraid to glance down in case there was blood pouring off hands.))

Remus ventured out to meet them, dodging across the lanes of traffic without a care in the world, or perhaps with a death wish. Remus didn’t seem particularly like he would mind getting run over by the way that he opened the back door, climbed in, and shook the excess water out in the interior of the car like some type of undomesticated dog. 

“Is this a kidnapping?” He asked, rain dripping down his face. “A murder? Do I get to know your name before you dismember me, cutie?”

Patton laughed joyfully, even as Logan felt his face screw up at the sound of Remus calling their boss “cutie”. It was beyond unprofessional, even if Remus was apparently unaware that his career hinged entirely on not insulting Patton. It took a lot to make Patton angry enough to fire someone-- his patience was the best and worst thing about him, as Logan had been reminded every time they interacted-- but once Remus crossed that line, not even a cockroach like him would be able to drag himself out of the metaphorical wasteland Patton would make out of his life.

Cutie, honestly. Who calls anyone they’ve just met cutie. Logan could understand Remus having called him Lovebug and Lolo, but cutie? 

For Patton?

Patton climbed back into the car, snapping on his seatbelt and managed to get out of park at the very same moment as the light turned green. He wiped his sleeve along his glasses, and brightly said, “I’m Patton! And you already know Logie here!”

“Logie?” Remus repeated, sitting back against the seat taking in Logan for the first time. “Oh shi--”

“Do not call me that,” Logan said. “Patton, you can drop me off at the next corner. I will walk home.”

“Don’t be silly!” Patton said, in the same tone that he had used during their college days to coax Logan into driving him to the nearest grocery store after he had successfully managed to pull two all nighters in a row. Logan hated that tone, and Patton knew that well.

“If you do not stop the car, I will throw myself from it while it is still moving.”

“I can get out, actually!” Remus said far too loud for the small car. Logan resisted the urge to turn around and scowl at him. Surely, his pea-sized brain had managed to figure out that he was the point of contention here and that his best move would be to shut up, so why had he decided to open his mouth? “I need to get home anyway. Big day tomorrow and everything.”

“Oh?” Patton said delightedly because Logan would not ever play into subject changes willingly. “What’s tomorrow?”

“I’m getting fired,” Remus said with a nonchalant shrug.

Patton blinked for a moment-- his squirrel-run brain jamming at the sudden twist of the words because whatever he was expecting from his visitor it was not that. Logan resisted the urge to reach over and give him a shake at the shoulders: of course he wouldn’t be able to expect anything with Remus Prince. The man was insufferable and illogical and he wrought chaos for fun. 

With everything that had happened, did Patton really think that there was an exaggeration in there?

Remus wanted attention. And he said whatever he needed to in order to get it: a fake affair, a fake divorce, a fake child-- Of course he would say he was getting fired tomorrow if it got Patton to have to use all of his meager brain cells to figure out how serious he was.

“Is that something to celebrate, Mr. Prince?” Logan cut in coldly. “Getting fired?”

“And here I thought that you would be happy, Ackroyd,” Remus said. “Unless you think you’re going to miss me.”

“If only I would be so lucky,” Logan said, digging his phone from his pocket, and turning it back on. The screen was blindingly bright and Logan’s eyes ached just glancing at it in the corner of his vision. “Patton, pull over. I am not doing this tonight. Or tomorrow. Or ever again.”

“I’m not going to let you walk home after however many rum and cokes you had, Logan.”

“Patton,” Logan snarled. “If you continue to treat me like you treat your son, I will tender my resignation tonight. Pull over now.”

Patton opened his mouth, but whatever he was going to say was swallowed up in Remus’s empty voice speaking. 

“You went drinking?”

“Do not talk to me, Mr. Prince.”

“You’re not even yelling.”

Logan wasn’t sure what that was supposed to mean, which may have irritated him more than the fact that he was so insistent about continuing to talk when Logan was liable to push the car to crash and kill all three of them. Remus was already staring at him, his expression dark and serious in the passing car lights and somehow Logan thought that he looked vulnerable. 

Logan gritted his teeth as his headache pulsed behind his eyes. 

“Shut up,” he said. “And put on your seat belt.”

“Or what? You’ll divorce me?” Remus pushed forward between the seats until he was just a few inches from Logan’s own face, grinning with all his teeth. It was at once the same smile that Logan had catalogued through every week of working with him and also something completely foreign.

Remus had pulled him into a kiss earlier that morning, and Logan remembered the taste of pickles on his lips just as well as the smirk he kept as Logan walked away. But this expression is somehow inverted, somehow shifted, somehow a weapon more than a challenge.

“Boys,” Patton said. “Please don’t fight in my car!”

“If you did not want us to fight, why did you invite him in this car?” Logan asked. “You, of all people, know my opinions on--”

“Logan, you’re drunk.”

“What does that have to do with this?!” Logan bit out. He glared at his phone: there were three missed calls from Patton and a handful of text messages from him that Logan couldn’t actually read in the combination of the bright phone light and darkness around them. His eyes were blurry even with his glasses on and the frustration of not being able to read only heightened as he made out the notification for his email which meant that Beatrice had managed to finish her work (allowing Logan to be able to go fix it) or that news of him yelling at a child made it around the office and now he was going to harassed by them as well.

All because of Remus Prince’s inability to shut up. 

 Patton threw a hand out and grabbed Logan’s phone from his hand and carelessly tossed it over both their shoulders to Remus.

“Patton!” Logan hissed, rubbing the irritated tears from his eyes. “Remus, give it back!”

Remus, however, was just staring at the phone in his lap like it was some type of bomb. Logan’s phone locked itself and the screen went dark, and still Remus sat inhumanely still in the seat, staring at it, with a type of blank expression that Logan oftentimes related to their coworkers when Logan asked them to perform any sort of math without a calculator.

“Remus,” Logan said again.

Remus jerked at the sound of his voice, snapping out of whatever fit the phone had put him in almost meekly-- if Logan could describe anything Remus did as meekly without it being a blatant falsehood. “Meekly” itself had never seemed to be a word in Remus’s vocabulary which was another irritating fact about him that made Logan break out in figurative hives.

Logan knew how Remus was.

He knew Remus.

It didn’t matter that he had never talked to Remus before today, that his thinly veiled contempt for his coworkers kept him from being willing to stand in their presence more than he was being paid to, that this fake affair was the first stupid relationship of any kind he had gotten outside of Patton and his son since his last boyfriend had dumped him on the night he was going to propose and hadn’t he thought he’d known him too? Isn’t that what led to all this? 

It didn’t matter. 

Logan was smarter, now. Logan was better now. Logan was--

“I don’t…” Remus said, trailing off as he stared at the messages popping up on Logan’s phone and Logan wondered why it felt like his lungs had shrunk right in his chest. “I don’t think you should be reading these right now.”

“He definitely should not!” Patton said, with a very convincing amount of forced happiness. “Hold that for him will you, Remus? Oh and why do you think you’re going to get fired tomorrow?”

Remus looked up at Logan and then at Patton and then back at Logan, like Logan was supposed to know what that meant in addition to every other stupid look he’d given Logan all evening. Logan shoved his glasses up to his hairline and rubbed his aching eyes, and yet somehow that still didn’t fix the pounding in his head or the exhaustion hollowing out his bones. It also didn’t make Remus disappear from the backseat, which was equally annoying, even though Logan hadn’t truly thought he was a shared apparition for him and Patton.

“You didn’t mention anything about today to your… what are you a fuck buddy?” Remus said.

And Patton laughed. 

Logan grabbed the door handle and yanked on it, but of course the ridiculous safety locks were engaged, and Logan had spent far too many sober years getting locked in this car to try to puzzle out the broken locking system in order to drunkenly throw himself out of the car. He was not in the habit of wishing for miracles, or even believing in deities, but he imagined that some powerful entity was finding ruining Logan’s life to be semi enjoyable.

“See this is why I can’t fire him!” Patton said through giggles and Logan thought maybe he was being addressed for this. Patton met Remus’s gaze through the rearview mirror and shook the last bit of water from his damp hair. “You make everything so entertaining!”

“What?”

Logan grit his teeth and yanked on the door handle again. “Remus, meet Mr. Hart, the CEO and your boss. Also put on your seatbelt.”

Remus blinked at them both, leaning between the seats and definitely not putting on his seatbelt. Logan counted backward from ten, reminding himself that one of the hiring requirements for Patton’s company has always been must be the stupid beyond belief. He’d known for a while that his coworkers were idiots on a good day, hazards to his health on bad ones, and yet somehow in the whirlwind of the day he’s had, Logan had forgotten that Remus counted as a coworker still.

“I’m not… getting fired?” Remus said, acting much like a computer after being turned on. “Why do you know my name then?”

Patton shrugged, flicking on his blinker to change lanes before the next light. “You have interesting ideas for your advertising strategy! Of course I would know your name! I’m sorry about vetoing that last one. I know Logan liked it, but I wanted to stick to the family-as-a-whole angle.”

“Patton,” Logan warned with an edge.

“Logan liked…?” Remus echoed, before turning towards Logan with a look of bewilderment that annoyed Logan far more than it had any right to. “You actually look at my shit?”

“Put on your seatbelt, Remus,” he said, because wasn’t it obvious that Logan looked at his things? Before the whole Robot incident Logan hadn’t had a problem with Remus at all: he was effective and efficient and the rumors were irritating but below him to indulge in. Before Remus had dragged him figuratively kicking and screaming into this mess, Logan approved the budgets that came with the projects Remus created.

He still did that, just with more anger than before. Petty feelings for Remus himself aside, his work was objectively good. 

Logan knew that about him.

“So!” Patton said over both of them, with his signature grin that Logan suspected he would still be wearing even if Logan decided to kill him right now. It must be the by-product of being controlled by rodents running on a wheel. “How was your volunteer work Remus?”

Remus froze in the back seat, going unnaturally still again. “Are you some kind of stalker-- uh sir?”

“Will you knock that off?” Logan snapped, which only made Remus’s shoulders jump straight to his ears. “And put on your seatbelt.”

“Just curious!” Patton said, ignoring Logan entirely. “Darlene is a good friend of mine! I make sure to send monthly donations to the organization since I don’t have a lot of free time to jump over and help.”

Remus didn’t say anything to that. He swallowed audibly and leaned back against the seat, dragging fingers through his wet hair and then tucked his arms in his own armpits. Logan pressed a palm to his forehead watching the street lights bend from behind his eyelids because that was easier than staring at Remus act like Patton was trying to pull his teeth out.

“You actually do volunteer work?” Logan said. “You don’t seem like the type.”

“Ha,” Remus said without any inflection. Logan thought that was the quietest that he had ever been. Where was that stupid ass smirk? Where was the stubbornness that pushed back against everything? Where was that loud voice and that confidence?

“Put on your seatbelt,” Logan said again.

“Why do you care if I wear the belt or not?”

“Remus put on your seatbelt or, so help me Newton, I will climb back there and put it on for you, myself!”

The air simmered from the acid in his tone, making the silence figurative chafe against his ribs. Remus stared at him, blinking slowly, with the street lights casting roving shadows on his face. His dark eyes were just so-- so--

Logan dug his nails into his palm. Why was it Remus Prince could make him feel like this? What gave him the right?

“It’s okay!” Patton said, setting the car to park. “We’re here anyway!”

Logan reached up and pulled his glasses back onto his face properly, but it still took him a moment to realize that they were near a bunch of townhouses, double parked outside one that Logan had considered moving into all those years ago when he had first been looking for an apartment for after college.

Remus too, apparently needed a moment to recognize the area. “We… are at my apartment? Holy shit, you are a stalker.”

Patton giggled, flashing Remus with his blinding smile and reached back to pick up Logan’s phone from his hands. “Thank you so much, kiddo! We’ll wait until you get inside all safe and sound, and I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“You will not,” Logan said. “Tomorrow you have a business deal two hours away to complete and if you miss it--”

Patton stretched back in his seat and let out a hugely exaggerated yawn. “But they’re so boring! Maybe I should bring Janus with me. He always makes my business deals entertaining. I love when he sets his snake on people. He looks so happy and he laughs and--”

Logan squeezed his eyes closed and recited the first twenty digits of pi in his head to keep from grabbing Patton’s squirrel run brain and slamming it into the steering wheel.

“Homicide is wrong,” Logan said.

“I’ll help you vouch for insanity,” Remus said. “I mean, tied together through a murder, and possibly hiding a body is much more juicy than a fake marriage that’s falling apart. We’d be the talk of the office.”

“They would not find any body that I hid,” Logan said. “Nobody would.”

Remus opened his mouth to say something more, but whatever it is he decided against it. Instead he slid over the seats and kicked open the door right behind Logan and stepped out into the night air.

“Thanks for the ride, Mr. Hart, sir,” he said, strangely formal, then squinted and added, “Daddy?” 

“I’m not firing you, Remus,” Patton said. “No matter what you call me!”

Logan ran his tongue over his teeth counting each and every one. Remus looked at him but ultimately finally adhered to that whole shutting up thing. He closed the door to Patton’s blue punch buggy and started towards the door to the apartments.

“Oh,” Remus said, and turned back at the last second. He knocked his knuckles on Logan’s window a few inches from where Logan’s gaze fixed itself on a light. Patton apparently knew more about what to do than Logan because he pressed the window lowering button and Remus reached his entire arm into the window to drop a small object right into Logan’s lap.

Logan caught it mainly due to reaction rather than skill and his skin tingled at the familiar item. Even in the dark, Logan’s fingers roll over the shape of the ring that had always reminded him of the worst day of his life. It was still warm from being in Remus’s pocket.

“I think that should stay with you,” Remus said, like it wasn’t a big deal at all. “You know… for the next boytoy you take to your sex dungeon or whatever nerds like you do on weekends.”

And then he turned around and fled towards the apartment building. Patton turned off the hazard lights and slipped back into traffic and Logan wondered if he would be polite enough to not comment if Logan started crying right then and there.

His throat felt swollen, his tongue too big for his mouth, and the headache thrummmmmmed painfully. 

Logan knew Remus Prince.

“You know that Remus Prince isn’t gonna be like him,” Patton said to fill the silence.

“Remus Prince isn’t like anyone.” Logan didn’t whine. To whine would be unbecoming. And childish. And embarrassing.

So Logan didn’t whine and Patton mercifully didn't call him out on his not-whining.

And neither of them mention the choked tone that Logan had for the rest of the night.

When Logan had seen his boss after he made Virgil cry, he hadn’t expected it to end up with him clutching that ring like a lifeline, but as he ran his fingers around the rim, he wondered if it had fit on Remus’s finger at all.

(Part Five)

[strawberrylemonz]

Masked Crowns

Part 16

Part 17 [CURRENT]

Part 18

@petrichormeraki @applepie1000 @artistconk @ivorylin @sydneys-sketches @snapdragonfirefly @bargledblocks

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

“Theo, stop moving around! Clem, stop fucking around and quite biting my ankle! Hey, don’t use that tone with me, young lad- Clementine!”

Fundy appeared half dead as he laid on the couch, exhausted. He watched as both Theo and Clementine hounded Tommy, who was just trying to make adjustments to their formal wear. Groaning as he hoisted himself into a sitting position, Fundy rubbed his eyes as he addressed his uncle.

“Give it up, Tommy, they aren’t gonna sit still. Wilbur gave them candy this morning.”

“I know, Fundy. Jesus, what the fuck was Wil thinking?!”

“Look at the bright side, you were able to quickly make adjustments to the bot-boys.”

“Only because Grumbot and Jrumbot are saints. I swear, Grian is a better father than I am at times. Don’t fucking tell him I said that- Clementine! What the fuck?!”

Both Fundy and Tommy looked down to the two children, who both appeared to be offended. Clementine huffed as she stomped her kicking foot on the ground, her arms crossed as she glared at her father. Theo did his best to match his cousin’s level of intimidating energy, giving an annoyed looks at his father and great uncle.

“No!”

“No what?”

“Noooo!”

“Ender- Clem, I can’t understand what's wrong when you throw fits, okay? Take a deep breath, collect yourself, then tell me what’s wrong.”

“Hnnnn”

Tommy frowned as he stared at the younger girl, who seemed to grow more irritated by the second. He knew her, though, could read her body language perfectly. She wasn’t angry or irritated, she was hurt and upset. Kneeling down, he held his hands out to his daughter, who glared at them in fury. After realizing her father’s hands weren’t going to combust, she sighed as she placed her tiny hands in Tommy’s bigger ones. Slumping her shoulders in defeat, she frowned down at her feet. Giving a frown of his own, Tommy lowered his head to try and make eye contact with Clementine, to no avail.

“Hey, look at me. Please?”

He watched with slight appeasement as she tilted her head up, her eyes slowly meeting Tommy’s. He gave her a hesitant smile, gently rubbing her tiny hands in a comforting manner as he did so.

“What’s wrong, little moth?”

Clementine didn’t talk much, opting to use her growls and grunts to communicate. This, however, wasn’t a situation where that form of communication would help things run smoothly. Moving her eyes from her dad’s face down to their joined hands, she frowned as her bottom lip began to quiver.

“I’m bad.”

“...What?”

“No good. Bad. Not nice. Not calm.”

As he stared at the sad expression resting on the girl’s face, Tommy suddenly felt small once again. He felt the same way he did when his father complained about him, not realizing his youngest was listening. He remembered the self doubt he felt and the hurt in his chest when his dad would compare him to his older brothers. It had fucking hurt when he was a kid, and it still did. And now? Now he was doing the same to his daughter. He was the fucking worst.

“No-Clementine, that isn’t true. Fuck, I- That’s not what I- Listen-”

Tommy sat down completely as he leaned forward, peering into the sad eyes of his daughter. Fuck, who knew being a parent would hurt his heart so fucking much? He was in his fucking feels at the moment, and it was all because of the toddler that stood before him. He was so scared of hurting her, of giving her reasons to despise and disown him as her father. He had to fix this, he needed to.

“The day I found you, I felt a piece of me return. It’s okay that you’re not like your cousins. You know what? I’m glad you’re not like them. You’re you, and you are being the best you there is. You’re not bad, Clementine, you’re fucking lovely. Don’t ever doubt yourself, okay? You’re a fucking badass, a brilliant one, too. I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to compare you to your cousins.”

The small smile that graced Clementine’s lips was enough to fill Tommy with relief. Pulling her into a hug, he smiled as he felt her cling onto his shirt for comfort. Looking to the side, he hummed as he motioned for his great nephew to join in on the hug. Theo, who was quietly watching it all, happily ran into the hug, pulling his father along with him. So much had happened in such little time that Tommy forgot that kids were easily overwhelmed. From discovering new family, the park’s opening, house renovations, and then personal schedules, it was too much for the two to handle. They got along and enjoyed their cousins, but Tommy and Fundy had forgotten that they needed more than just that. They needed reassurance that they were enough.

“Now, can you two please let Tommy make final adjustments to your outfits? We have a ball to attend to, after all.”

--------

Attending the ball was truly a blast from the past. Tommy snickered as Kristin gushed about the matching outfits her grandbabies and youngest son were wearing, alongside with her own. Most of the members from the Dream SMP just gawked in silence as Lani, who was matching with both Drista and Tubbo, twirled and bragged about how wonderful of a designer and tailor Tommy was.

“Tommy made those?”

“Yup! He sure did!”

“But they’re so...elegant.”

“Oi! Fuck you!”

Laughter erupted from the group as the music played in the background. As the group conversed among one another, pairs began to break off to dance.

“Pa!”

Tommy peered down at Clementine, who held her hands up expectedly. Letting out a laugh, he scooped her up into his arms, smiling as she giggled with every bounce her father caused with his laughter. She smiled brightly at him as he fixed the tiara on her head. She laid her head on his shoulder as he swayed along to the music, both content. After a moment, Tommy felt his daughter’s head lift from his shoulder.

“Cousins.”

He turned to follow her line of sight to see Theo, Grumbot and Jrumbot all waving at him, their suits and hair fixed appropriately for the occasion. Returning the wave, he smiled at his daughter, setting her down with a nod.

“Yeah, you four go dance and have fun. Be careful.”

He couldn’t help but smile as her curls bounced as she squealed in excitement. Giving Tommy a hug, she quickly grabbed a hold of her cousins and rushed to the dance floor, smiling as her cousins argued as to which pair should dance with who. As he watched his only child scurry away with her cousins, he couldn’t help but sigh. The feeling of a hand on his forearm caught his attention. Turning to the side, he saw Tubbo smile at him, Lani and Drista right behind him.

“C’mon, let’s go dance.”

----------

Tommy and Lani were doing their best to not disrupt their dancing with silent wheezes of laughter, they really were. It’s not their fault, everyone was making it so hard for them!

“It’s like he’s dancing with Mount Everest!”

“Holy shit, this is hilarious.”

The pair watched in amusement as Tubbo bossed an awkward, but happy, Ranboo around the dance floor. The height difference in itself was enough to make the sight laughable.

“Tommy, over there.”

Following Lani’s line of sight, Tommy damn near belted out laughter as a grumpy Drista was stuck paired with one of the park’s guests, who would not shut up about her relation to Dream.

“Poor girl, losing her sanity.”

“She’s about to break, it’s fucking hilarious. Should have given her a fork.”

“We’re here to dance, Tommy, not commit a felony.”

“Rich coming from a girl with multiple knife pockets installed into her dress.”

“You installed them!”

“You commissioned them!”

The two began to bicker like the besties they were as their friends and family danced around them. Phil and Kristin danced and twirled as they shared whispers to each other, their smiles brighter than ever. Wilbur and Techno were awkwardly dancing with one another, their empty insults to one another growing louder the longer the brothers were with each other. Grian was teaching Grumbot the proper way to waltz, Bad and Skeppy goofingly twirling around them. Clementine and Jrumbot happily danced off beat, no one even daring to teach them the proper moves. Quackity, Karl and Sapnap laughed as they spun around together, the three pulling George in from the sidelines. Just as Tommy was about to make a comment, a sharp elbow jabbed his side.

“Ow! Lani, what the fuc-”

“Shh! Look!”

“What are you-”

“Just look, it’s important!”

And important it was. There, standing at the food tables, was Fundy. He wasn’t alone, though, not at all. There, making the hybrid blush and stutter, stood a guy. Lani and Tommy exchanged knowingly looks, before dashing over to the nearest hiding spot.

“Move over!”

“No, you!”

“Shh, listen!”

----------

“Go away.”

Theo frowned as the words left his mouth. He crossed his arms as he glared up at the emotionless mask before him, the face behind it hidden well. That didn’t stop Theo from being able to read body language, and the vibes he was getting weren’t necessarily hostile, but they weren’t welcoming as well.

“I just wanted to get a good look at you, to know you. Makes sense, doesn’t it? You are my son after all.”

The word sounded so wrong coming out of the unseen mouth. Son. As far as Theo was concerned, Dream was no father to him. His only dad was Fundy, and Fundy was all he needed for a parent.

“Your crown looks very nice, did you design it yourself? And I like your suit. I noticed that it matches Fundy’s perfectly. In fact, both of your crowns match perfectly with one another.”

Theo wasn’t planning on responding to any of the comments, not that he’d have to try. Dream just didn’t seem to catch the child’s drift, continuing to talk despite the boy not responding. 

“You have my hair color, it looks good on you. You’re obviously a shapeshift, like Fundy. Have you tried shifting to your more humanoid form? Oh, your eyes. You have-”

“My eyes.”

He may have been young, but Theo wasn’t daft. He knew that Dream (he would not call him father) was the reason for him having to live in the burrows up until then. He didn’t know what all Dream did, but he knew that it was enough to make his papa and uncle Tommy hurt very badly. He wasn’t going to let Dream see him with his guard down, not around him. He just stood and glared at the older man, who seemed to not have taken a hint to the child’s body language. Theo just confidently stood his ground as he watched Dream kneel before him, reaching over to gently pat his head, not seeming to care about pushing the crown around. Theo was quick to catch his crown, which fell off his head the moment Dream pushed it off. Much to Theo’s relief, the unwelcomed form of affection didn’t last long.

“Ow!”

“Dickhead! Dickhead!”

Dream pulled his arm back as Theo hid a laugh behind his hand. Standing in confidence was Clementine, who had just bitten Dream’s hand. She just growled and hissed at Dream, taking a protective stance in front of Theo as Grumbot and Jrumbot stood by his side, ready to defend their cousin. Dream just rubbed his hand, before pointing at the emerald jewel dangling from the girl’s necklace.

“I only know one person with an emerald cut exactly like that. You must be Tommy’s brat. What did he name ya again? Clementine? Figured. I guess it’s true after all, trouble attracts trouble. Don’t tell me that you’re just as problematic as your dad-”

“Shut up!”

Theo huffed as he yelled at Dream, who wasn’t expecting such an outburst from the quiet child. Grumbot narrowed his eyes as the man, pulling Theo behind him as he did so. Jrumbot, on the other hand, just mocked the masked warrior.

“-meanie mask man!”

“Fine! We’ll talk once you’ve all calmed down. I’ll see you around, Theo.”

Dream let out an annoyed huff as he walked off, giving a half-wave to Theo. Once he was completely out of sight, Theo was mobbed by his concerned cousins, who were quick to assess him. Clementine began to sniff for any off scents while Jrumbot clung onto his arm, whines escaping his artificial mouth as his older brother inspected Theo. Whilst checking for any possible injuries, Grumbot began to question the younger boy.

“Were you hurt?”

“No.”

“Did he threaten you?”

“Nuh uh.”

“Well, is he as big of a jerk as Uncle Tommy said he was?”

Theo blinked a few times before laughing, causing the worried faces of his cousins to morph into confusion. After a moment, an amused look graced Grumbot’s features. Clementine and Jrumbot only continued to watch in confusion. Finally calming down, Theo responded with a nod.

“Yeah, he is. He tried acting like he was my dad.”

“We should tell your dad.”

“Are you kidding me?! He’s talking to a potential dad! Let’s just go bother Uncle Tommy.”

“No! Spy. Uncle Grian!”

“I’m sure dad won’t mind us bothering him. Let’s get going.”

Making sure they all had their belongings, the four children scurried off towards Grian. As they happily spoke with the father of the bot boys, Theo felt a chill down his spine. Turning around to peer behind him, he noticed a familiar white mask. If he clung onto his uncle a bit tighter than usual, Grian didn’t mention.

:)

[khaleesiofalicante]

This is from last chapter but still I need somewhere to scream, sorry💙

First part was a rollercoaster and I am not ok!!! Lets just get some points:

Alec taking Magnus hand so he doesn’t bite his nails and kissing a boy for the firts time in his home is something that can be so personal🥺🥺

IZZY AND JACE. JUST THEM ALL NICE AND LETTING HIM PUT THE DECORATIONS AND I AM NOT CRYING😭

She is the one who asked for a divorce. Shouldn’t she be happy? Relieved even? I dont like the way this parallel hurts :)

Alec and Jace looking out for Izzy is so soft but the part of Max just hurts me in so many levels😭

AHH MARYSE BEING ALL NICE AND RESPECTFUL AND GRATEFUL TO MAGNUS AND GIVING HIM THE EARINGS HIT ME LIKE A TRAIN. I LOVE THAT WOMAN😍

*whispers* Sizzy....

“Nothing,” Alec whispers back. “But I plan to love you more than I love you today.” chezzy little shit jdhdujdjs

"Look at me carrying all that frankincense.” reminds me of the time I played a little devil on a Christmas play😂

FUCK ROBERT. OMFG I AM A SECOND AWAY TO THROWING HANDS. HE WAS 11 FOR FUCKS SAKE!! DOESN’T SOUND FUCKING FAIR INDEED!! I know he tried and did better, etc, etc but still...

“I’m not giving up on Magnus,” Alec says firmly. “I love him, and I intend to marry him.”💙💙💙

Ok, that discussion was so damn painful and angsty, but it was fucking amazing!! And again, both of them are right to certain point. Like, they did violate Magnus rights basically and he has all the right to go away, and also Alec is so used to things like this that he doesn't see how wrong it is. But also Alec had a point that families are like shit sometimes

BUT. You also need to know where to draw the line bc it comes to a point where its not healthy anymore... Ahhh I could do a whole analysis of this😂

"Don’t treat me like shit and then ask me to be the bigger person.” FUCK IF I DIDNT FELT THIS TO A DEEP LEVEL>>

That was really fucking low of Alec...

MY BEAUTIFUL RAFAEL. EVERYONE GIVE HIM A BREAK. HE DESERVES A FUCKING REST!! Also Alec pulling this shit... AHHHH!!!

Rafael and Magnus crying when he knew about the divorce omfg now I'm crying too😭

I feel so fucking bad for Max rn. Also Alec, kindly fucking stop🙂

Will the fact that Max loves Magnus so fucking much and he inmediatly worries if he is crying ever not hurt?? Nope :)

"It’ll be okay. Tell me what’s wrong. I’ll fix it.” FUCK😭😭

The baby. Their blue. THE SILENT OATH BETWEEN RAFAEL AND HIS PARENTS TO PROTECT MAX. I CANT. I'M DYING INSIDE

"Max, who has always been able to keep his head above the water, is drowning." idk why but this was my favorite quote of this Timeline. POETIC WRITING😭

I don’t know. I don’t know anything. Please stop asking me. I WILL PROTECT THIS BOY TILL I'M DEAD AND YALL BETTER PREPARE FOR THAT🔪

I'm one "sometimes love isn’t enough" away to combust internally

GOOD MORNING TO LESLIE AND ONLY HER. THAT WOMAN IS THE LOVE OF MY LIFE😍

I KNEW JACE KNEW!!!

The "notes to self" are always on point *chef kiss*

I will learn to do necromancy just so I can bring Albert back and kill him slowly🔪

OMFG god he reads AND writes smut. This info is ✨first priority✨ jsvsjsjksksks and on fucking church HOLY-

He keeps tampons for Lexi and Selena just in case. He. Is. Fucking. Perfect. THIS BOY IS THE DEATH OF ME🥺🥺

"But David catches him though.  He always does. This smut-reading, tampon-carrying, beautiful son of a bitch." ✨DAVID IS PERFECT AND LITERALLY NO ONE CAN ARGUE ME✨

David really is killing poor Max jdhsksjskjs

LESLIE IS ICONIC. AMAZING. TALENTED. BRILLIANT. THE BEST-

As I coffee hoe, I relate😔

YES TO GABRIEL AND SELENA. MY SHIP IS SAILING!!! Gabriel is in love and I love them for that. Who wouldn’t be?? 😍

Ok, kinda worried for Rafael...

For someone with such a mess in his love life, he really gives good advice...

DAVID AND HIS WRIST KISSING IS KILLING ME!!

Max, we need to aknowledge your abandonment issues... Like, same bro. But you need help...

The person who got hurt the most was the person who helplessly watched it all come crashing down and wasn’t able to do anything to make it stop. OUCH💔

I didn’t need to know that Alec cried every night after the divorce but thanks🙂

OF COUSE HE IS SPECIAL TO MAX. THAT WHOLE SPEACH GOT ME BETWEEN WANTING TO CRY AND WANTING TO LAUGH JDHSISJSJ

Poor Rafael. Now everyone thinks he has a degradation kink I mean he does but still👀

"I’ll always see you. No matter how hard you try to hide from me.” stop with the cryptic-romantic shit. I am already crying😭

THE WAY I LOVE DAVID ISTG-

"He wants everything. He wants everything with David." This is going to get out of hands, BUT I'M LOVING MAVID SO MUCH AND ALL THEIR THOUGHTS BREAK MY HEART OK?!?!

This chapter, as always is just ✨MASTERPIECE✨

Ayyyy I’m so so glad 💙💙

Here is a tiktok for you. This is Magnus/David with Alec/Max 😭😂😭😂😭

[lumienyx]

Black Emporium Fic Recs

okay i received literally the most amazing three (3????? how i deserve??? me????) gifts for the @black-emporium-exchange and i HAVE to scream about them otherwise i'm going to self-combust jUST LOOK AT ALL THE PERFECTION UNDER THE CUT👀👀👀😍😍😍

Treatise on Towers

Male Amell/Morrigan | T | Words: 1714

Two domestically-inept mages try to raise a god-baby.

~~~

They told me the perfect Male Amell/Morrigan fic doesn't exist WELL I'M HAPPY TO ANNOUNCE THAT IT FUCKING DOES AND THIS!!! THIS IS IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! They are the cutest and so is Kieran and I my soul haven't stopped shedding tears of happiness because this is literally E V E R Y T H I N G. And if you are, by any chance, as enamored with this pairing as I am, you can find it right over here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32980231

Me the whole time reading this:

rules of conduct

Anders/Male Hawke/Dorian Pavus | E | Words: 6343

“Excuse me,” said Dorian, so scandalized he sounded horrifyingly like his own mother, “this is private property. You can’t just squat here!”

The other man’s expression switched from apprehensive to outraged. “Oh really! And what law says that?”

Dorian gaped at him, momentarily speechless. “...Inquisition law?” he tried.

Brown eyes flashed an unearthly blue. “Land is part of nature, and cannot be owned. Any attempts to do so are fundamentally unjust.”

—

Hawke attempts to hide Anders in Skyhold. The ruse doesn’t last long.

~~~

okay but HOLY HEAVENS ABOVE AND HELLS BELOW this is spectacular, hilarious, fantastic, unBELIEVABLY hot Dorihanders and I will keep it treasured close to my heart until eternity itself implodes and even then I shall not let the void take this perfection with it. Read AND PLEASE SCREAM W ME ABOUT it over here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33701074

Me the whole time reading this:

Sirens

Anders/Nathaniel Howe/Justice | E | Words: 15504

“Why would a mortal ever allow such a thing?” Justice asks.

Nathaniel ponders the question. “For life,” he says finally. Thoughtfully. “For love. Perhaps together, you can do what they cannot do alone. If you gave instead of taking, I would consider you no demon.”

It is something to consider, Justice thinks. Somehow, he is far more preoccupied with the way Nathaniel offers a smile: like he is someone who deserves to be loved.

~~~

WHEN I SAY I DIED—

IN THE BEST OF WAYS POSSIBLE MIND YOU

AND NOT JUST BECAUSE OF THE WORD COUNT BUT BECAUSE OF EVERY SINGLE WORD OF THIS STORY THAT LITERALLY HAD ME CRYING DURING WORK HOURS AND LAUGHING AND SQUEALING AND FANNING MYSELF (thank god i work from home lmao) AND

*S C R E A M S AGAIN*

okay just holy shit if you love Nanders and if you love Justice and you haven't read it yet, I have no idea what's stopping you save from not having the link well here it is: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33722368/chapters/83816623

Me the whole time reading this:

If any of the wonderful authors are seeing this post KNOW THAT I SHALL LOVE AND WORSHIP YOU TILL THE END OF TIME I CAN NEVER HOPE TO EXPRESS THE FULL EXTENT OF MY GRATITUDE BUT THANK YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! FUCKING!!!!!!!!! MUCH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[katsukisbimbo]

DDAENG

✯ pairing: hawks x reader

✯ genre: FLUFFYYDS!!

✯ summary: fan! hawks meeting his newly debuted idol crush y/n at a fansign!

✯wordcount: 2.1k+

✯warning: just swearing and hawks being thirsty <3

✯ note: this literallt came to me because i was trying to turn @hoodtoshi into a bts stan (lowkey succeeded) and i was jus like yea, thirsty hawks

-ˏ͛⑅　‧̥̥͙‧̥̥ ̥ ̮ ̥ ⊹ ‧̫‧ ⊹ ̥ ̮ ̥ ‧̥̥‧̥̥͙　⑅ˏ͛--ˏ͛⑅　‧̥̥͙‧̥̥ ̥ ̮ ̥ ⊹ ‧̫‧ ⊹ ̥ ̮ ̥ ‧̥̥‧̥̥͙　⑅ˏ͛--ˏ͛⑅　‧̥̥͙‧̥̥

- you were nervous

- this was your first fan meet after all,, but you were still nervous

- you were only 19 and had already debuted!!

- that didn’t happen to just anyone!!

- you worked super hard to get to where you are today!! everyone knew that!!

- you sighed as your make-up artist continued to paint your lips a dark red colour

- you honestly didn’t look like yourself, but this was to keep up the whole idol image i guess

- “jinhee, how many people are outside? i’m sure only two people came to see me..” you pouted, resulting in your make-up artist to smack your cheek lightly

- “dOn’t say that you dummy! i’m sure a lot of people came to see you!” she scolded, wiping off the excess makeup on a towel

- “now get out, you’re done”

- “i don’t wanna”

- she raised a newspaper and flexed, ready to beat the fuck out of you if she heard another whisper of self-deprecation from you

- “fine! i’m going!” you grumbled, pouting at oncoming soreness of your feet from your heels

- why did idols have to wear heels anyway?

- okay no, you knew why, but sTill!! they sucked!

- you smiled as you saw the buffet table

- one little snack wouldn’t hurt

- >:)

- “keigo stop fuckign puSHING”

- “im so EXCITED!! i’m meeting THE y/n you SLUTBAG!!” keigo yelled as he shook his companion

- dabi sometimes questioned why he was still friends with keigo

- “i SEE that you asshole”

- keigo took this opportunity to punch dabi in the arm, causing dabi to retaliate, causing kEigo to retaliate, causing dAb-

- okay so

- “i’ve been in love with her ever since she debuted!! and she debuted ALONE!! a whole solo artist!! the talent!! the beauty!! i’m in love!!”

- dabi raised a brow at his friend

- “didn’t you tweet about wanting to ‘put a baby inside of her’?”

- keigo felt his cheeks heat up at the possibility of you seeing his indecent tweets about you

- what if you had seen? what if you think he’s a creep? what if you already hated him??

- keigo felt his anxiety creep onto his shoulders as he continued to overthink, not realizing that they were already next to go in

- ruh roh raggy

- keigo didn’t know anything BUT anxiety

- rip keigo we’ll miss you big daddy :,(

- “please come in, please don’t shout”

- whO was shouting?? nobody was shouting

- keigo wasn’t gonna shout

- as keigo was about to shout, he felt himself be silenced by his partner

- all keigo could feel was betrayal

- “calm down you hot dog, you’re going to TALK to her in person jfc. you can tell her how much you want to father her children then”

- it was almost time and you were STILL at the food table

- you saw a small intern approach you with an uneasy look on her face

- she was for sure about to reprimand you

- “m-ms. y/n,, we have to go now!” she stuttered

- she was sO! cute you just couldn’t say no

- so you decided to just sneak a few bags of chips under your skirt before smiling and quickly following her

- you made your way to the stage, peeking behind the curtains

- you saw a huge crowd of people, mostly males, but one man who sat near the front caught your eye

- he had bright yellow eyes with matching blond hair, even wearing some eyeliner

- the unknown male looked absolutely delectable

- he made you bark a little tbh

- you took a deep breath before you were pushed by your manager on the stage, cheers suddenly reaching your ears as your fans confessed their love for you

- quit shamelessly might you add

- you blushed as you watched the cute blond-haired man cup his hands around his mouth and yell—

- “I LOVE YOU Y/N! IM YOUR NUMBER ONE FAN!” he yelled, gaining the attention of everyone in the room

- soon everyone started to yell that they were your biggest fan and that the blond man could never even compare

- but the man had nothing but a satisfied smirk plastered on his handsome face

- did he enjoy starting riots?

- you sat on the chair, placing your hands on top of the table

- this was a small table ngl

- luckily there was a sheet on the table, hiding your nervously bouncing legs

- just imagine watching a fancam of you bouncing your leg

- people would still thirst for that

- anyway

- “thank you guys for coming! i’m so excited to meet you all!” you started, smiling at the large number of people

- “you guys can ask me questions or some things? i don’t know?” you laughed, feeling slightly awkward

- you didn’t know how to be a person

- “can you do a dance for us!!” a young boy, about the age of 7 yelled, jumping up and down in front of his seat

- “what dance?” you queried, raising your brow in curiosity

- “move by taemin!!” he cheered, immediately dancing

- you laughed at his adorable actions

- you were totally gonna dance for him!

- you got up as the music started to play in the background, moving to the side of the table and sensually moving to the beat while the audience watched intently

- you carefully moved your hips, hitting all the right beats

- this wasn’t any different than dancing in front of the camera people, plus you had to get used to an audience

- it also wasn’t any different from how you had to dance to kpop songs from when you were younger for your family!!

- (no, literally. the amount of times i had to dance to 2NE1’s i am the best, girls generation’s gee, and wonder girls’ nobody. the dances are engraved in my head. 6 year old giri had to dance or else)

- as the song faded out, you held your pose before bowing, smiling at the little boy who continued to hype you up

- “holy fuck.. dabi that was hot” hawks whispered, tightening his grip around his friends sleeve

- “jeez kei, ease up a bit” dabi complained, prying his friends hand off of him

- “oh my god she’s such a great dancer, do you think she’ll like me if i learn how to dance too?” he questioned, grabbing his friend by the front of his shirt, pissing dabi off once more

- “no. not if you don’t stop being a fuckinf weirdo”

- hawks pouted

- dabi grinned

- how cruel

- “does anyone else have a request?”

- “WAP!!” a number of people yelled, resulting in your face heating up

- how would they suggest such a lewd dance!

- especially when there were children here!

- “haha! that doesn’t seem very appropriate!” you laughed it off, trying your best to mask your uncomfortableness

- hopefully this would end soon

- “no! can you dance to gashina please!” a girl yelled, catching your attention

- hm, gashina was actually a very good suggestion

- you could do this! you could be as great as sunmi!

- okay maybe no. sunmi was a god <3

- you did the routine, catching the eyes and the hearts of the audience

- “fuck i think i’m in love dabi” hawks whined, clutching his chest

- he had a lovesick expression plastered on his face

- he was totally whipped for you, no doubt about it

- before you knew it, it was time for the fans to have a minute to speak to you and for them to get their albums signed!

- you had recently debuted with your album, dawn in tokyo

- you had taken inspiration from the time where you had left your hotel at dawn and walked around the streets of tokyo, sitting near a bridge and writing lyrics for some of the songs in the album

- hence the name of the album

- most of your album was written in japan

- hawks felt himself get more excited as he came closer to you, holding tightly to the fabric of his friends jacket, which wouldn’t surely gotten him slapped if you weren’t so near

- before he knew it, he was already next in line, dabi already sitting in front of your figure while holding your soft, delicate looking hand in his large ugly ones

- this made hawks’ chest bubble with jealousy

- >:(

- sure, you had a large fan base, but it still hurt to see people touch you the way he wanted to

- it was now his turn, he walked up the stairs with his wobbly knees, wanting to just sit and be near you

- he knew that you would be able to calm his nerves, or make him spontaneously combust

- “hey! i’m y/n! nice to meet you!” you smiled, out-stretching your hand to him, offering to place your hand in his own

- he swiftly, but gently grasped your hand, before placing it on his cheek, letting you hold the soft chub of his cheek

- no fan had been this brave to do this. it was quite surprising to be honest

- he wasn’t breaking any rules so you decided to fuck it and go with it

- you placed both your hands on his cheeks, slightly squishing them together, causing him to adorably pout

- “dash not nishe” he mumbled, brows furrowing

- you laughed before letting go of his face, bringing your hands back to your side of the table

- “you’re so cute! can i sign your album for you?” you smiled, tilting your head to the side

- hawks just..dieded

- mans said peace out

- your beauty was incomprehensible

- phew, he had to get his shit together! he was trying to impress u! he wanted to be the mc in a wattpad story

- we all wanna be y/n

- anywayss

- “sure dove! u can make it out to keigo, u can put your number in it too ;)” he winked

- KDNDHSK

- DID HE—

- DID HE JUST ASK FOR YOUR NUMBER

- LIKE—

- nobody:

- y/n: i’m not gon do it girl.. i’m just thinking about it

- “ah! sorry cutie! i’m not allowed to share my number :333”

- you tried to laugh as you died inside

- he smiled, before placing a kiss on your fingertips

- “don’t worry dove,i respect that” he winked

- BARK BARK

- “i have some gifts for you!” he announced, placing the huge paper bag on top of the table

- he first pulled out your favourite snack before handing it to you

- how did he get these??

- omg

- then, he brought out a bottle of perfume, and a new song writing notebook!

- this was great!!

- “oh my gosh! keigo! you’re too sweet” you cooed,

- this was a lot

- “i also have something else.. would you wear this flower crown for me and do some fan-service?” he queried

- of course you would!

- you nodded before placing the flower crown on top of your head

- “what do you want me to say?”

- “say.. i’ll be a good dove for hawks. is that okay?” he smirked, tracing small circles into the palm of your hands

- w-wHAT

- was this legal

- your managers were literally ignoring you—

- “o-oh! sure! uhm-“

- god you were going to regret this

- “i-i’ll be a good dove for hawks!” you whimpered, showing off your practiced aegyo

- “ahhh! my heart!” he gasped, dramatically clutching his chest

- “excuse me, we need the next fan to come up” you manager tapped the both of your arms

- you nodded before smiling at hawks and waving goodbye

- you were going to miss him :((

- ig it just wasn’t meant to be

- the night you had gotten home, you decided to go through your gifts

- you were particularly interested in the gift you had gotten from the blond man

- it was really sweet of him to get you a notebook

- the moment you had opened it, you had noticed that something was written on the first page

- ‘xxx-xxx-xxxx call me pretty girl <3’

- he was a bold onealright

- you were contemplating on actually calling him

- he could leak your number!

- well, you could just wait for him to speak

- fuck it

- you dialed the number on your phone and waited as it rang

- “hello?”

- “i-is this keigo?”

- “hey dove, i’m glad you called”

- y/n: i did it :33

[akemiiiii]

Like waves crashing.

[before anything else, i know i only put my art here, but I do write from time to time hehe, so I'm sharing this one with you all, much love! I hope you enjoy it!]

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“What the fuck?”

The first thing that Iwaizumi registers in his sleep-addled mind is that the bed is too soft. It did not feel like the firm mattress he always sleeps on in his apartment.

The second thing he registers is the soft scent of bergamot and pine which reminds him of Oikawa.

Which was definitely weird because Oikawa isn’t anywhere remotely near him at the moment, in fact, he clearly remembers he was 6 thousand miles away.

His eyes open to see a white ceiling, a grey duvet cover, and the king-sized bed he was currently on.

”What the fuck?”

Iwaizumi was thoroughly confused. He doesn’t remember anything that would sufficiently explain where he was.

The last thing he does remember was his sleep-deprived thoughts of missing Tooru because they’d yet to see each other for a year now and a pixelated face on a screen does not count.

And now here he is on a soft mattress that does wonders for his body, a room he does not recognize, and a scent that reminds him so much of his best friend.

“Did I die from missing Tooru so much?” Iwa anxiously gets up from the bed and heads to what he assumes is the cabinet. Right now, the idea of lying half-naked on a stranger’s bed did not seem appealing.

The thought leaves a bitter taste in his mouth for reasons unknown to him. But as Iwaizumi scrambles to open the cabinet, his sight lands on two very conspicuous shirts.

Hanging isolated on the right end of the closet was a black shirt that housed a small Japanese flag right above where a heart would be when worn. Besides the black shirt is a blue jersey, a huge ‘13’ smack right in the middle with an Argentine flag on the corner.

For the 3rd time that day, Iwaizumi curses.

Was Tooru already 1st string on his team? Was he already playing for Argentina? Wait, no, that’d be impossible Tooru would have to be an Argentine citizen for that ti happen.

Thoughts beeline in his brain, too fast for him to process. While Iwa was trying to understand what he was seeing, voices past the door of the room catch his attention.

Iwa stands still, eyes wide, fearing he’d be caught. Any hopes of these people leaving burn to dust as the knob turns slightly.

Then his eyes meet the soft brown burned and buried into his heart.

“Tooru?” Iwaizumi doesn’t take notice of the fact that Oikawa’s taller, bulkier, and more tanned. He was too happy to finally see his best friend after a year of not having him near that he barrels past the unfamiliar room to crush said man into a fierce hug.

“...Iwa-chan?” Oikawa squeaks out

“Tooru! Gods, I missed your stupid face, how are you here? Why are you here?” at this Iwa moves back to glare at the man “You better not have skipped out on your practices dumbass, you know better than to…”

“What the fuck?” The fourth curse surprisingly does not come from Iwaizumi. Well, not from the one who just bear-hugged Oikawa.

Iwa’s eyes move from Oikawa’s wide-blown eyes, past his shoulder, to see his own face staring back at him. A more muscled, more robust, maybe slightly taller version of himself.

Iwa curses for the fifth time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Wait, wait, wait, you mean to say it is currently 2024?” Iwaizumi asks this supposedly adult Tooru.

“Yeah! We’re like, 30 now, Iwa-chan!” For the most part, Tooru looks extremely amused at what was happening that he couldn’t stop looking back and forth between the younger Iwa and the older.

“Damn, Iwa-chan, look at all the wrinkles you’ve accumulated, I told you all that scowling was gonna stay.” Oikawa chatters on excitedly

“Shut up ‘kawa” On the other hand, Iwa’s older counterpart now looks on calmly, as if this mind-blowing event was a normal part of his everyday life.

“Wait, you said we’re in Japan? And we’re...living together?? What about Argentina? Did you come back to Japan after all? But that wouldn’t explain the jersey…” There was so much Iwa wanted to ask about, but these were his topmost concerns.

“Hmmm, how much am I allowed to say? Will this affect the past? How did you even get here?” Oikawa directs the first 2 questions to the Iwaizumi closer to him (the adult one) and directs the last one to the Iwa sitting in front of them.

“I suppose you can say the condition we’re in now. But not the major ones.” The adult Iwaizumi offers

“But Iwa-chan! How am I supposed to know which ones are ‘major’ ones?!” Oikawa whines out, dramatically air quoting his statement.

The older Iwa heaves a sigh and faces his counterpart, “Yeah, we’re living together, we’re in Japan, as for Argentina, you’ll know in time.”

“...Huh.” Younger Iwa just huffs at that, but living together wasn’t really a big issue, in the back of his mind, Iwa thinks he knew all along that they would end up like that anyway.

Living with your best friend doesn’t really pose any much problem for him, plus he’d get to spend the days with Oikawa at his side and take care of his dumbass, so it’d be a win-win.

Younger Iwa still doesn’t realize why exactly he was very much pleased with the information that he and Oikawa living together was a great thing.

“Wait, I wanna know how old you are though Iwa-chan, you look almost the same as I remember when we were high school, but with major eye-bags.” Oikawa shifts closer, and younger Iwa stares at the freckles prominent on his face, the wide smile, and something in him clicks.

The one difference that he couldn’t pin, the one thing that made him believe that this Tooru really wasn’t his Tooru. This Tooru exuded happiness. Exuded contentedness.

He must’ve stared too long because Oikawa’s clearing of the throat makes snaps him out of whatever he was trying to comprehend.

“..Ah. well you aren’t exactly wrong, its been a year or so after we graduated as seniors. I’m at the end of the 2nd sem of college,” Iwa explains

“Holy fuck, that’d make you 19, ah youth! You’re so young let me pinch your cheeks!” Oikawa doesn’t wait for the go before both hands grab at younger Iwa’s chubby cheeks.

“Ha-ji-me~~ your baby fats are all still here! How wonderful!”

The sudden use of first name leaves Iwa blushing in Oikawa’s hands, panicked eyes seek help from the man beside Oikawa but adult him just laughed at his plight.

“Oi, ‘Kawa stop, he’ll combust.”

“You mean, you’ll combust?” Oikawa turns his head to face his Iwaizumi and wiggles his eyebrows. Younger Iwa doesn’t miss the gleam of affection that passes his eyes, and suddenly he is very aware of the lack of insults these two were trading.

If they were them, in the future, surely they’d have the same amount of banter he and Oikawa have, right? the roughhousing and all that, right?

But the only thing Iwa sees are casual touches here and there.

Like a switch, Iwa realizes a lot of things.

The apartment seemed to only have one master bedroom. In that room was a king-sized bed. With two pillows. The closet seems to house both of their clothes.

Oikawa was leaning into adult Iwa’s space more than the usual Oikawa would have been to younger Iwa.

There was a lot of gentle and almost, Iwa daresay, loving affectionate stares the two in front of him kept having in this hour alone.

And the most glaring, most shocking, most unbelievable thing Iwa has finally, finally noticed: The shining, demanding gleam of two matching rings.

“Are you married?” Iwa blurts out, the need to know suddenly engulfing him in ways he can’t fathom. How? Why? Since when?

The two in front of him exchange glances. And as an answer, both lace their fingers together. It is the older him that speaks softly, “Yeah.”

The word silences him. Once again, thoughts swim in his mind furiously crashing back and forth like waves.

How? Did he actually love Tooru all this time or did he come to fall in love with him? Was it when they were separated??

Why? Was this a need or a want or a what? What exactly could be the reason that they’d end up married???

Since when? When did they fall in love, when did they decide on marriage, when did they realize that the other was the one person they wanted to spend their entire lives with?

Iwa’s mind was a mess, but honestly, he knew every answer. He was probably in love with his best friend. No, not probably. Definitely. He started the moment they met and never stopped.

He loved Tooru. Loved his stupid collection of alien merch, loved the way his eyes lit up when they were on call, loved the way he took the spot next to Iwa as if that was where he was always supposed to be.

Iwaizumi loved and hated the way he was separated from Tooru, because of the space it left and because of the growth it pushed in them.

In the back of his mind, Iwaizumi hoped, wished, and knew that whatever their future may be, he’d always be beside Tooru, even if they were physically apart.

He’d known for years now that his future would have been with Tooru because the only future he pictured himself happy was with Tooru.

Fuck, he was in love with his best friend.

“Holy shit.” Iwa breathes out.

“Yep. Hard to swallow that you’re in love with this ass right?” Older him chuckles out, nudging Oikawa’s shoulder

“Hey! I’m a fine piece of ass. You’re lucky enough you got me!” Oikawa shoves back, the smile evident behind his pouting face.

“I really am.” The casual confidence in which his adult self replies to this is another blow to Iwa.

He fell in love with his best friend.

He gets to live with his best friend.

He gets to marry his best friend.

He gets to spend the rest of his life loving the person who has always made his soul feel alive.

“I love that I’m getting to see firsthand your reaction to realizing you’re in love with me.” Oikawa pinches the younger Iwa’s cheek with his free hand, and all pleasant thoughts of Tooru fly away, getting replaced with irritation at his smug smile.

“Well, knowing me, you have no other option but to fall in love with me Iwa-chan. I mean really, did you really think you’d get rid of me that easily?? My bi realization happened in junior high, you shit!”

Oikawa’s hold on his cheek strengthens, as he forcefully wiggles Iwa’s face right and left. Adult Iwa was apparently finding it amusing.

“Like what the hell! You were up in my room all shirtless in summer when it’s hot! And sweat!! And you had the fucking gall to play wrestle me without even knowing the internal turmoil I was having!”

Oikawa finally lets go of his abused cheeks, it was probably beet red from the amount of force he used to pinch, but also because of the words Oikawa was spewing.

“To be fair, ‘kawa, you liked the play wrestles because you said it gave you a reason to touch the developing muscles I had.” adult Iwa smooths over.

“It was still unfair because up until we were seniors I was literally dropping hints left and right and the entire fuckin’ team knew, and you were still there being the slowest idiot I have ever encountered in my life. Even your parents knew, how slow can you be Iwa-chan?”

Oikawa’s glare was directed at older Iwa, but it could have also been aimed at him from the amount of mortification he had. So that was why Oikawa loved holding hands when going home back then.

“Ah, the sweet taste of knowing the exact moment you realized you love me. Can’t believe it took for you to meet the future us to fucken know. Iwa-chan, you a rare breed.” Oikawa winks at him.

Older Iwa snorts, “Oh my god, never use that phrase again Tooru, what the fuck” He shoves him playfully, while Oikawa just wiggles his eyebrow back at him, prompting older Iwa’s fuller laugh.

And seeing this domestic scene in front of him somehow calms Iwaizumi enough to the point that everything in the world rearranges itself because he has found the answer that settles his very core.

“Ah. Times up.” Older Iwa says, looking straight at him. He dons a secretive smile, and for some reason, Iwa understands that he’s probably going to go back to the past now.

“Wait, last thing, are we happy? together?” Iwa frantically asks. Because no matter how he wants what this future paints, he wants what makes Oikawa happiest the most.

Adult Oikawa moves closer to him, leaving a lingering kiss on his forehead. “Ah, my Iwa-chan, I was never, will never be not happy when I’m with you. Now off you go! Don’t make things too hard for me, ‘kay?”

A last caress is what Iwa feels before he wakes up back in his shitty apartment with clustered notes and dirty laundry. It was currently afternoon, which means Tooru would be lounging in his own bed, probably reading.

Iwaizumi picks up his phone to ring him immediately. It’s answered in less than a minute, and the fluffy cocoon blanket of Tooru is what greets him first, before the scrunched-up nose of his best friend.

“You’re late Iwa-chan! Did you forget about lil’ ol’ me?” He pouts, and even though he was just with Tooru a second ago, he missed this Tooru still.

“Never. Hey Tooru.” The first name surprises Tooru, a blush rising, and before he would’ve just waved that off, but now that Iwa knows what he knows, he can easily see the pleased and happy gleam Tooru feels.

“Hey Hajime. So, how was your day?”

Iwa opens his mouth to tell him what he had just experienced, but adult Oikawa’s last words ring in his mind. It wouldn’t be fun at all if Hajime makes it known that he knows Tooru likes him, and him vice versa would it?

He closes his mouth and hides a grin. Nope. Not fun at all. Guess he’ll let things flow for now and keep Tooru at his feet. Someones gotta have to, right?

“Nothing much, I just woke up late, anyways tell me that gossip you had with your Abuela.”

“Oh yeah!! Iwa-chan you won’t believe what's happened, Juan’s partner got…”

Really, Iwaizumi muses that he should have realized long ago that he can’t imagine anybody else’s voice filling up his days in the future.

[Ok omg, tell me what you think, I know there're probably a lot of errors in grammar, hshshs, i'm still trying to get a hang of writing :D, I really hope you enjoyed reading this !!]

[syubub]

Yoongi birthday reading/energy check!!

It's sweet sweet tangerine bois birthday!!

I wanted to do a cute little energy check up to see what's up and ask some fun little questions!!

I'm excited so let's just do this shit!!

Disclaimer: this is for entertainment purposes and not to be taken as fact!!

---

I want to apologize for the absolute shit pictures but what's new lol

So, let's start with the platform. First thing I noticed was the blue was brighter but the platform was darker? It was like someone cranked up the contrast to 100. Ngl it looked pretty cool. Yoongis platform doesn't typically have a barrier like some of the others do so I just kinda walked in and did the whole, "happy birthday, I have questions" His energy seemed a lot more... vibrant? And playful I guess? It was really nice. Now. The actual connection was intresting because the cord was blue again and like, real thick. (I don't think my perceived thickness of the cord has and real correlation with how strong the connection is. It was just thicc) this time though, the cord was connected at the chest instead of the third eye. So i was like, ??? But my guide didn't give my any sort of helpful input (my guide likes to watch me suffer in my confusion. I'm sure of it)

Anyway, cord like that and then yoobi gave me a headbutt to connect at the third eye. Idk why he gotta be like that :( istg next time he's gonna flick my forehead or something.

I was like "cool cool cool. I want to do the reading now pls" and idk how to explain the energy other than sassy. You know? Blah blah blah I'm thinking, "I don't remember him being so cheeky but maybe I've been gone long enough for him to level up into his final sass monster form"

Anywho, this was intresting because after the little strings were connected and stuff, we plopped down on the floor. And it was like everything I was doing irl was being mimicked infront of yoons energy? So we were sitting facing eachother and I was putting the cards down between us?? Usually that doesn't happen but it was kinda fun!!

Moving right along. I first asked if there was anything he wanted to say or needed to get across and it was 11. Now, 11 has come up before and I'm still not to sure what it's in reference to? My best guess is possibly he's been seeing 11:11 or that it's 2? Idk let me know if you have any clues lol. Other stuff was just kinda banter and stuff.

So so so.

The reading. First thing I asked was how he was doing. And I shuffled his preticular way (when I ask a question I always ask for the energy to tell me how much to shuffle or when to stop. For yoongi it's always 2-2-2. So 2 bridge shuffles, 2 hand shuffles and then split the pile in 2. That's why I think 11 might be 2 to him?)

The cards we got are ace of swords rev, justice,the heirophant rev, the empress.

So based off this I was like okay. I want to pull clarity cards for the two rev cards to get a better picture so I pulled the emperor rev for ace or swords rev and strength rev and wheel of fortune rev for the heirophant rev.

Starting with the ace of swords rev, and the emperor reverse. It seems like yoongi has been re thinking his relationship to control in his life. That's he's possibly noticing any unhealthy needs to control his life and the situation around him. It could also refer to his judgment being clouded by a rigid approach.

With the justice card it makes me think that he's possibly considering a big choice in his life or that he's really doing some deconstructing of his own views. This second idea fits in well with him getting clarity on some possibly unhealthy control issues in his life.

Now. The heirophant rev, strength rev and wheel of fortune reverse. This was intresting to me bc they are all major arcana. The heirophant rev can really talk about no longer needing outside approval and making your own way in your own time bc you are your own teacher. Strength in rev I kinda read as self doubt and feeling down in this case. Like a lack of confidence in himself and his abilities. And the wheel of fortune in reverse I took to mean as his breaking cycles. All together these cards kinda paint a picture about wanting and trying to break a cycle of self doubt and self limiting beliefs and learning more about himself and why he think what he does about himself and searching through everything for truth. It's really good!! In short he's doing some nice soul searching and trusting himself to guide his own way through this self discovery!

The empress! This card seems to pop up for yoobi a lot and I think it really speaks to the abundance that surrounds him! Not just money but the abundance of creativity, love, friends ect.

Now now now. I asked him if there was anything that he wanted to tell us about himself or bts or what's happening in the near future. For that I got 2 of cups, king of wands and 3 of coins.

So the 2 of cups is partnership. Usually romantic. Could be pertaining to the may 13th thing that is ever present lol but I'll get to that later. With the 3 of coins talking about teamwork, this could definitely hint at collaborations coming up!! That's the vibe I get. No one crush my dreams. And for the king of wands it could be talking about taking the reigns on a new project and starting to get it done. Like a new opportunity. This could be a new bts project like starting a new campaign or new venture or maybe personal like the a mixtape or doing more songs for other groups ect.

I had to ask him how he was feeling about the grammys. I had to. Had to. The cards were ace of wands, 2 of wands and death reverse. When these came flying out I could help but smile. Yoongis energy was almost giddy too!

Witht he ace of wands

It's that spark of creativity and inspiration. It's that feeling when you get super excited over some new thing. I think this is the perfect example for feeling reinvigorated. The 2 of wands takes that spark from the ace and tries to funnel that excitement and newness into something directional. Using that burst of creativity to start planning for future progress!! Its so nice to see that! If they don't win (IF) you bet we're gonna get some bangers about a corrupt system. If (WHEN) they do win we'll get bangers about how thankful they are to have gotten where they are in spite of a corrupt system. I just want to hear an uncensored version of yoongi being like, "HOLY FUCKING SHIT, WE DID IT BITCHES. FUCK ALL YOU BASTARDS THAT SAID WE COULDN'T."

I can dream....

What a nice dream.

Now I asked if there was anything yoobi wanted to say to us as in advice or comfort or anything like that and I got, Clearing negativity, make time for self care, when I'm tuned into the energy of abundance I become abundant. when I'm in a state of appreciation im in vibrational alignment with my true love nature. The world rev, 2 of swords rev and that project, that person, that idea is waiting.

Awe. Take care of yourselves!! Make sure to take time to enjoy what you like and try not to let any negativity get in the way of you enjoying your days. The world rev to me seems to be talking about seeking closure on the things in your life that have been impacting you. Tie up those loose ends so you can move foward without triping over yourself and 2 of swords rev I think talks about information overload and being kinda indecisive bc of that. Take a sep back to evaluate the situation at hand because sometimes it's so close you can't see what you're looking for. Those of you who are studying and getting frustrated because you just can't seem to get it, try taking a step back and doing something to take care of yourself and come back to it so you can approach with a clearer mind. Try not to get stuck or paralyzed by choice but if you do get stuck, take some time to detach yourself from the situation and come back later!

A fair few people wanted an update on yoobis soulmate as well. If you need a refresher here's the run down. Yoongis soulmate is impossible for me to read, yoongi is a smug ass and I'm nosy and probably a little dumb.

Now that that's cleared up

I asked, "am I missing something?" (As to why I can't connect and why yoongi won't give me answers.)

I got queen of cups, magician and the high priestess. I read this as him being like, "yeah dude, you aren't woke enough"

YOONGI just give me answers pls. The high priestess is intuition and sacred knowledge, the magician is manifestation and the queen of cups is also intuition.

At this point I was like, okay you little shit, can you at least tell me how your soulmate is doing? Can you do that for me?

2 of cups, 2 of pentacles, 9 of wands and knight of wands. 2 of cups is partnership usually romantic, 2 of pentacles is priorities and managing them, 9 of wands persistence, knight of wands motivation for a new thing. His soulmate last time was in the process of going through some shit and figuring it out and it seems like now they've got a better clue of how to move foward and are currently heading towards good things/ important things in their life (possibly like working towards dream career or had an idea for a business the want to start or field they want to go in.)

I was thinking about the next question when this popped into my head, "if you know about your akashic book, do you know about your soulmates? Have you read it?" I used my pendulum. No movement at all. What so ever. "Are you listening to me?" Yes. "So answer my question please" No. "Do you like to watch me suffer?" Maybe. "Do you know the answer to the question" yes.

YOONGI WHY

This cheeky son of a bitch.

Now I was like, fuck it. Imma ask him the big boi question.

"Is your soulmate present when I do these readings?" Yes.

WHY THE FUCK CAN I NIT PICK UP ON IT???

I had to take a deep breath dude. Yoobi is testing my nerves.

"Are they hiding their energy?" No.

I was actually gonna combust. This makes no sense.

I asked yoongi if he would tell me what I'm not getting. Silence. So i ask my guide.

"lol ur dumb"

Watch me Google "how to fire your spirit guide"

Istg this feels like some dumb prank. Maybe I'm just genuinely oblivious to his soulmates energy or maybe I'm just doing something.

What do you want to bet that his soulmate is just hiding under the platform and I'm too stupid to notice or some dumb thing like that.

yoobi, sir, why must you do this?

I decided to continue.

"What message or thing have you learned from your soulmate recently that could be valuable to us?" I got healthy communication in relationships and deep replenishment.

Good to know you can have a nice communicative relationship with your soulmate bc I CAN'T.

I'm petty about it, sue me.

The message does stand though. Good communication and taking proper rest to replenish yourself.

Now I had to ask yoongi directly what he thought of may 13th.

I got the lovers, 7 of swords, the magician and judgement. The seven of swords was intresting and it makes me think there's some extra stuff at play here too. 7 of swords is about getting away with something and deceit. The clarifier was the magician.... this could mean a lot honestly. It could be that maybe yoongi will have his relationship exposed or possibly that maybe him and his soulmate meet but yoongi is disguised? Idk how that would work at all but I'm stumped. There's a lot of variations that this could be. The magician is about manifesting and having everything you need to create what you want. This could possibly mean that maybe he gets a sudden idea that's like, "oh I have to go here right now. Its super important" eventhough he has practice scheduled. So that would let down his team but he would be following his path and it might lead to him meeting his soulmate? Maybe vice versa? Idk let me know what you think??

With the judgement its about inner calling and kinda like the peak. Like shit has been leading up to this moment. With the lovers too it does seem like a union?

I asked him, "but like what's gonna happen on the 13th thought and I got the 10 of cups. Divine love, bliss, alignment, happy mushy gushy shit. This is why I'm so inclined to think that they'll meet on the 13th or things will get serious or their paths finally cross. The cards seem to heavily suggest that.

My dude. Yoongi is really sappy, pass it on.

For the last question I asked yoomgi if there was messages/ advice he had given to his soulmate that we might benefit from.

First step, open your third eye, open your heart, sign from heaven, open your arms to receiving.

A lot of opening lol.

It's good advice though learning to be open and receptive and taking that first step in tackling life or any situation.

Oki. Now for the disconnecting. It was not nearly as strange as it has been in the past. I was just like thanks dude. Again, happy birthday blah blah and I got up to leave. I noticed it looked like we were in sitting in one of those old plastic hoola hoops? Like the pink and yellow ones lol. As I was looking at and and like??? Off to the side the numbers 13, 28, 54. Obvi 54 isn't a date and then I the last yoongi check up there was book pages and I feel like 54 and 28 were the pages?? I'm not actually sure as I'm writing this so I'm gonna check.

Yep I checked. They are the page #s.

So that's intresting.

Other than that though I just kinda left and he was like, "bye" and that's all.

Not as cool as other yoongi adventures but equally as frustrating.

TLDR

Yoongis doing pretty okay and he's a cheeky little shit. My guide like to watch me suffer and yoobi is mushy gushy squishy.

Happy day of birth Syub!!

[tbhwhocaresanymore]

Nancy Drew 2x2

Me in my naïveté: surely, the Nancy Drew writers, the best writers the CW has on staff, have run out of ways to bring back past moments and episodes that seemed unimportant at the time.

ND writers: Bitch you thought?

Y’ALL

When I say tonight’s episode made me absolutely lose my actual goddamn mind that is not in any way an exaggeration. My brain physically pried itself out of my skull and ran away down the street.

Jesus Jedediah Christ the way they brought back those five people/ghosts who at the time seemed absolutely unimportant and sent me so entirely off my rocker if I even attempt to think about it for more than two seconds I’ll spontaneously combust so we’re going to have to work around it.

First off, no surprise: HANNAH GRUEN. My bae. My wife. Love of my life. You were only there for two minutes but they were exquisite.

Second I fucking KNEW that dude from the Marvin funeral episode was important. If you’ll recall from my review my theory at the time was that maybe HE killed Owen, but you know what this was so much better.

Okay, to business. At the beginning when Nancy is seeing all of the scratches on Douglas Marvin’s grave and then we zoom out to kind of see the Aglaeca in the side of the frame, and then zoom out more and it turns around and LOOKS at us doing that creepy little swaying thing? POETIC CINEMA. Riverdale wants what Nancy Drew has.

That “unfortunate first meeting” George had with Nick’s mom and her subsequent attempts to prove herself, culminating in Millie giving her the dumpling recipe? Adorable. Speaking of the mom, I do indeed hope we see more of her. Her and Nick’s moment at the end of the episode where he talked about seeing her cry in the courtroom absolutely broke my heart. I can’t handle the thought of him not at the very least having the occasional phone call with her from this point onwards.

To be entirely honest almost every scene with the mom broke my heart. When she was talking about how she and her husband raised Nick to always do everything right and lost him anyway? Hhhhhhhhhhhhh it hurts. The writers said they would be keeping BLM in mind while writing this season, like how they kept Me Too in mind for the first one, and I was a little worried it would be hamfisted. But if they continue as they did tonight it will be nothing but beautiful.

Guys. Guys. I know I said I had no idea how to talk about it but I have to talk about it. That scene in the orphanage. When they find the photo. And Nancy realizes she has seen all of those ghosts before.

GUYS.

EPISODE 3.

SINCE EPISODE THREE THE WRITERS HAVE BEEN PLANNING THIS.

GODDAMN DO WE LOVE CONTINUITY AND FOLLOWING THROUGH ON PLOT LINES AND WRITERS WHO KNOW WHAT THE FUCK THEY’RE DOING. I WANT TO FIND THE SHOWRUNNER AND KISS THEM ON THE MOUTH.

Ahem.

Anyway.

I thought Carson and Ace had some really nice moments this episode. i.e. “The guy at the store said it was a one man job.” “I think the guy at the store lied to you.” I am, however, curious if Nancy is going to ever bring her father in on the fact that supernatural beings exist and that she deals with them on the reg. Like I know he helped them out with the coma ritual with McGinnis (McGinnis come back 😭😭😭) but they never really brought it up with him again, and he’s been like kept out of the loop on it all ever since. I’m just wondering if he in fact actually knows and is just remarkably calm all the time, or if he’s in denial, or what. But tbh I do have a very strong amount of sympathy for Carson, and I really want him and Nancy to get back on good terms. At the end of the episode when she brought him the coffee and stuff I teared up a little. I’m an adult, I can admit it. Maybe it’s just because I’m such a massive fan of the books, where she and her dad were so close, but having them at odds especially after they started out that way, is painful.

Speaking of the books.

Fernwood orphanage. Hhhhhh writers I see what you did there. But for those of you who don’t know, in Nancy Drew #9 The Sign of the Twisted Candle, Nancy Bess and George stop at a roadside inn/bed and breakfast type place. At the inn is a 100 year old man named Ada Sydney who Nancy befriends, along with a young orphan waitress named Carol Wipple whom Ada has a soft spot for. The next day he dies, and turns out Carson is his lawyer and Nancy goes with him for the will reading. Long story short, Carol is apparently his granddaughter and he leaves her like EVERYTHING, but when she was young she grew up at, drumroll please!

FERNWOOD ORPHANAGE. I AM DECEASED.

And the Stratemeyer woods? For the same people, Stratemeyer Syndicate was the place that published all the Nancy Drew, Hardy Boys, Bobbsey Twins, Tom Swift books, etc. You will not be able to find them today however, as they were bought by Simon and Schuster in like 1987.

Back to the show.

When Detective Tamura (aka The Inferior McGinnis Who Can Rot In Hell) said the skeleton was Buddy and NOT KJ (AJ? I’m deaf) I got suspicious. And then as soon as they played the record and only five ghosts showed up, I was all ‘HOLY SHIT HE IS ALIVE’ and then he WAS. At the end of the episode, when they saw the flowers on the graves? You guys I was LOSING. MY MIND. And then the note saying “forgive me -kitsune” aaaaaaah. I am in fact afraid that he wants forgiveness because he sacrificed the others to save himself, but I am praying the writers do not do that to me.

I’m interested in finding out, assuming we meet KJ/AJ next episode, WHY the 1975 group reached out to the Aglaeca in the first place. Nancy and Crew did it because they needed Lucy Sable’s bones from 20 years ago to get Carson off the hook for murder, I am assuming these guys had at least as good a reason. And the Aglaeca herself. Dear god you guys. Odette Marvin. I’ve been saying and we’ve all known for a while, that she was wronged by the Marvin family. But Lordy that’s extreme. Listening to the overlaying recording? They low key abducted her, stole her fortune, her chaperone and the captain betrayed her, she was presumably bound hand and foot had her head shaved and got thrown into the ocean. I think I might be a little murderous too ngl. Although it begs the question, why exactly did Douglas Marvin have her painted into the hall of tragedies? I don’t think it was to gloat. Maybe Odette haunted him after the fact and added herself into the painting? But my favorite theory is that Odette as the Aglaeca started killing all the people who were in on it, her chaperone, the captain, etc., (I assume there were six) and Douglas saw the others dying and painted her into the portrait as a way to warn future generations of Marvins, rather than fess up to what he had done. I also want to know the deal with the first women to summon her, and the mirror? There is potential there I KNOW IT.

If you’re not a Drewson shipper feel free to skim this paragraph but guys Nick and Nancy are soulmates it’s confirmed. I’m not even kidding guys I was in no way shape or form prepared for the amount of Nick x Nancy content I got tonight. When Nick is at her house and they mention how they skipped friendship the first time around? “We skipped a lot of things the first time around.” DEAD. And then later at the Claw, when Nancy and not George came to comfort him post fight with the mother? And then he saw that look Nancy gets where her eyes flit around cause her mind is working overtime? *chef’s kiss* My prediction is they will spend this season building up a strong, solid, foundational Nancy x Nick friendship and then when they give the romance a second go they will be so. much. stronger. I’m guessing season 3 will be spent in a bit of a complicated love triangle with Nick and Nancy (re)developing feelings for each other while still having them for George and Ace, making the eventual payoff all the more delightful.

I close this review - which was admittedly less of a review and more of me shrieking incoherently - off with a plea to the writers.

*eyes turn black*

WHERE IS DEAD LUCY

WRITERS

WHERE IS SHE

IT HAS BEEN ALMOST A YEAR. FOR TEN MONTHS NOW I HAVE GONE WITHOUT HER. SHE HAS BEEN GONE SINCE EPISODE 16. NO SCREAMING. NO CREEPY CRAWLING. NOTHING. WHERE IS MY DAUGHTER. BRING HER TO ME.

*shakes self* Glad to get that out of my system. See you all next week for 2x3, The Secret of the Solitary Scribe.

[yikeswtfmate]

Golden // Part 2

Summary: Y/N pays Sam a visit. He has some explaining to do.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: language; uh? sexual references? maybe???

A/N: listen. LISTEN. I am so excited about this. I’m so excited about this that I might turn this whole thing into a series. Is this how IAFAG came into being as well? Yes, it is. Am I as excited about this as I was about IAFAG? MAYHAPS! Here is the second part, I hope you like it! 

(as always, thanks to @the-chocolate-bunny​ for cheering me on and shouting OHMYGOD over and over again when she’s reading whatever it is I’m sending her, you’re a clown but I love you)

previous part // masterlist

“Samuel Thomas Wilson!” Y/N shouts and her finger is so far in his pec that he has to swipe her hand away and rub at his chest. Good.

“It’s 7 in the morning.” He groans and just follows her trampling inside his kitchen. He watches with a pout as she’s turning on the coffee machine, taking out two mugs and the sugar jar – I just want to sleep some more, what did I do to deserve this on a Wednesday?

“Well, rise and shine, buttercup, because you have some explaining to do!”

Sam yawns and sits down, practically melting over the kitchen island. She pushes a coffee right next to his nose, where the smell and heat should be enough to keep his eyes open.

“Why am I even friends with you?” Sam mumbles, but Y/N just looks at him unimpressed. “What?”

“You know Steve.” She says and good god, does she look pissed.

“Ok, honey. I’m gonna have to ask you to be a little more specific. I own a bar, I know too many Steves to count and most of them aren’t even worth you coming over here at 7 in the morning.”

Y/N looks pointedly at Sam as if by magic he could read her thoughts – which wouldn’t be surprising in normal circumstances, the man is scarily accurate, especially when she’s trying to hide her flings away from him. In his defence, she did knock at his door for 10 minutes to wake him up and then nearly tackled him to the ground, even though she has a goddamned key. But then again, he might have an inkling on who exactly she’s talking about, considering he never does anything without knowing exactly what the results might be.

“Tall, blonde hair, blue eyes, beard, built like a fucking tank, unable to buy shirts his own size, owns a stupid bike?!” Y/N is aware that her voice is turning into a brassy squeal by the end of her sentence, but at least now Sam is starting to look more alive. He’s raising one of his eyebrows, which could only mean there’s some sense of recognition at her words.

“Don’t tell me the idiot finally talked to you.” He’s chuckling in his coffee mug, as if this would explain what just happened an hour ago.

“Sam.” She presses, staring pointedly at him. “More words, less sphinx-like riddles, please.”

He rolls his eyes, but puts his mug down with a sigh. He knew this would happen, hoped this would happen if that idiot Golden Retriever would just get his shit together already but he didn’t expect Steve to be a little asshole. Bucky, sure, but Steve? Yeah, ok, fine, Steve can be an asshole too.

“Remember when you asked me to help you move a while back?”

“And you convinced me to go for a run at 5 in the fucking morning with you in exchange for that? And you stood me up because apparently you slept through your alarms? That somehow involved Clint for some goddamn reason, but if I think about it now, I have no idea how that happened considering you don’t live with Clint.” She’s literally voicing her thought process, which in turn makes Sam proud – she’ll put two and two together soon enough. “Unless you both slept at the bar that night and somehow…wait. No. Sam, you dick, you planned this?!” There it is.

Sam leans over the table and pats Y/N on the head – one, two, three and she’s batting his hand away. She’s fuming, but it’s great seeing her get so worked up. Ah yes, Sam thinks, there’s nothing funnier than meddling in Y/N’s life. To be fair, it’s not like she’s regretted any of his plotting – she’d actually let him take all her decisions for her if there wouldn’t be something called rEsPoNsiBiLitY and other disgusting adult stuff. But couldn’t he have meddled with this Steve earlier? Couldn’t he have told her there’s a hunk of man that she’d like to climb like a tree the day they met?

“Explain yourself before I either self-combust in rage or tell Clint you’re allowing him to eat all the peanuts in the bar.”

“He knows better than to obey orders that don’t come directly from me, sweets, but at least you tried.” Sam chuckles, which earns him another whine. “Fine! Goddamn, woman, sometimes I wonder what I did in a past life to deserve this. I was with Steve when you called me and your weird face came up on my phone. He kept hinting at wanting to meet you but I played dumb and wouldn’t give him anything.”

“I – what?!” Y/N screeches yet again, and Sam swears he might just buy some noise blocking headphones.

“It was his birthday present.” He shrugs.

“What was?”

“Making you two meet, you dumb clown.”

Y/N looks at Sam, a mystified frown on her face. He can practically see “Processing” right on her forehead. It’s the most fun he’s had in months and if he ever had any doubts about his mischievous plans, he now knows with certainty that it was all worth it. He takes a sip of his coffee, patiently waiting for her to talk, because she’s a talker, after all, she’ll either let out a final screech that will wake up the whole building or he’ll suffer through an endless tirade of ingenious expletives.

“Wait, hold up.” She finally says, one hand raised, as if he’d ruin her reaction by talking. Come on, Y/N, baby, you know me better than this, and she does. “Let me get this straight. You knew Steve was already interested, you knew that we kept meeting in the park every morning and knew I was also interested, yet you’ve kept quiet until now?”

“That’s exactly right, babygirl.” Sam grins.

She smacks him then – lunging over the kitchen island, right over his head, making him nearly dunk his face in his coffee. Sam tries his best to show that he’s furious at her reaction, but it’s an unfortunately common occurrence, so that wouldn’t stick.

“Why would you hurt me in this way, Samuel?” Y/N wails, throwing herself on the table – dramatics, this is why only Steve could handle you. “Have I not been a good friend to you? Have I not kept your secret that you wore braces when you were a kid? Have I not brought you coffee whenever you asked for it in college? Have I not introduced you to Bucky?”

“First of all, I did it because Steve had to be taught a lesson. And second of all, it was payback because you did tell someone I’ve worn braces in middle school. And that was Bucky!”

Y/N scoffs and crosses her arms. They’re stuck in a match of pouts and throwing around blame – a game they’ve played since childhood, but Y/N is bad at it, as always, and she’s the first to relent, as always.

“What lesson?” She mumbles.

“What?”

“What lesson did you have to teach Golden Boy?” Y/N repeats herself, enunciating each word.

“To learn to ask for what he wants.” Sam grins.

“And what’s that?”

“You.” Sam rolls his eyes, already tired of this conversation, why can’t his friends just sort this out together anyway? “He wants you, Y/N, but he was too much of a coward to ask.”

That’s the moment Sam’s phone starts pinging with what sounds like an entire waterfall of messages. He groans, standing up from his chair, because really what the fuck is up with people today and waking him up at 7 in the morning on a goddamn Wednesday?

At least Y/N stays put in her own seat, watching him like a hawk as he retrieves his phone from his bedroom. It’s lighting up like crazy and as he reads the messages, he can’t help but start laughing like a certified villain.

“Your boy is having a meltdown.” He finally supplies an explanation to Y/N’s confusion.

Before she can even open her mouth in a futile attempt to deny having “a boy” or even ask who he might be talking about, because let’s be honest, it’s not like she’s been wondering what it’d be like to tap that ass in the few minutes it took Sam to come back, he thrusts his phone right in her face.

Oh god, Sam, I talked to her today

Holy shit she’s even prettier from up close

Fuck, I think she caught me staring at her butt

What if she thinks I’m a creep?

AND I ASKED HER OUT??!?!?!?!

HOW COULD I EVER THINK SHE’D SAY YES????

BUT SHE SAID YES????

WHY DID SHE SAY YES??????????

SAM WHAT THE FUCK SHE SAID YES AND I HAVE A DATE WITH THE HOTTEST GIRL I’VE EVER MET AND NOW I HAVE TO CALL HER AND I’M EXCITED BUT HOLY SHIT WTF AM I SUPPOSED TO SAY TO HER????????

I’VE ACTED LIKE SUCH A DOUCHE!!!!!!!!!!!

I TOLD HER I’LL PICK HER UP ON MY BIKE AND SHE SOUNDED SO CONFUSED WHAT IF SHE DOESN’T LIKE BIKERS???????????

SAM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I think I’m in love

By the end of the last message, a huge grin is splitting Y/N’s face. Sam knows this reaction too well for comfort and oh shit, what have I started, but it’s too late now and she’s already typing.

“Really, Y/N? On my phone? I might just have to throw it in a river now.” Sam sighs as he reads over her shoulder.

She lifts a shoulder in a shrug, but the grin doesn’t leave her face. Waking up at 5 in the morning might not be so horrible in the end if she gets to send messages like this to a Golden Boy who is having the most adorable meltdown over her.

I might be impartial to bikes, but I’m definitely not impartial to you or your butt, Stevie

***

Everything Marvel Taglist:

@bonkywobble​

[finn-ray-nal-beads]

I just want to tell you that I LOVE YOU. Please have this soft thought about our lumberjack boy. I can't stop thinking about how much he would love falling in love with a woman who has kid(s) Like this boy ADORES CHILDREN even though he's so tough on the outside. He'd be so fucking cute meeting his girlfriend's kid for the first time. Playing catch with her son in the yard or having a tea party with her daughter. [WHY AM I ONLY SOFT ON TUESDAYS, YOUR FUCKING ASK BOX GETS ALL OF THIS SHIT]

OMG @millenialcatlady WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME TONIGHT?! 

I can totally picture like a little girl because I have one of those, lmao. Him meeting her for the first time after of course like a few months of dating, because I would protect my child’s mind before I decided to introduce him at all. And i’d also want to prepare him for my life because kids are a lot of work and if he’s willing to be in it for the longhaul then like marry me plz. But like the first meeting, my daughter would be SO SHY at first and then warm up to him once he got like her bearings and saw what peaked her interests. The first time she hugs him goodbye or.... asks him to PUT HER TO BED AT NIGHT HOLY FUCKING SHIT I JUST COMBUSTED WITH LOVE. He tucks her in and sings her You Are My Sunshine because she loves that song and pets her precious little head to sleep. He’d kiss it once she was totally out and switch the light off, making sure there wasn’t anything in the room to wake her up at night or scare her (omg I'm so dying of fluff rn). 

That man would treat her like his own and love her like it was his baby girl and he’d protect her from anything and everything that could harm her. 

He’d even cave and go trick or treating with her... Costume and everything just so I could have a night off and so he could get some quality time since he’d been working so much lately. She’d drag him to every single house making him stand at the door with her in her sharkie costume begging for candy (of which she wouldn’t have to like my daughter is fuckin’ gorgeous). He would carry her back to the house after she got tired and lay her down in her bed again and tuck her in, grabbing the bags of candy she'd gotten from everyone. 

Then he’d go downstairs to take care of me. Making sure I relaxed while they were gone. He’d pull me in the biggest hug and swoon over the little girl he’s grown to completely fall in love with. 

IM SO FUCKIN SOFT SOMEONE WRITE SOMETHING LIKE THIS FOR ME IM BEGGING ON MY HANDS AND KNEES. IF NOT I’LL WRITE IT AND IT WILL BE SO SELF INDULGENT YOULL ALL PUKE!

I MEAN LOOK AT HIM HES SUCH A DADDY ITS SICK...

[haikyuu-scenarios-drabbles]

HAIKYUU IS BACK AND SO HERE I AM 

listen folks, season 4 has come. my crops are flourishing, my skin is clear, i’ve been revived. i cried and watched the opening 4 times, i’ve watched the episodes 3x now. Kuroo has always owned me and bITCH he still does. 

as usual, i have no shame, so have this professor Kuroo x  grad student reader that turned surprisingly angsty (my heart is so full with s4 that idk how it ended that way). i dont even care how cliche this is, im so weak for stuff like this. also i have no idea if this field is even a thing but i dont care 

warnings: suggestive nsfw, angst 

will there be a part 2? who knows 😉 (spoiler, there is...and three and four)

as usual, 💖 J

~

You weren’t exactly sure what you were expecting what your faculty member that you’d be working with for your graduate career to be like, but it had been more along the lines of: crotchety old man, white hair, still sporting tweed suit jackets from the seventies. It definitely never crossed your mind that a young man, probably around your age, you’d guess a bit older since he was already a faculty member, would greet you on your first day.

You also weren’t expecting him to be fucking drop dead gorgeous—and you mean ovary melting, cliché totally swooning material. Never in your life have you felt so nervous around a person before. It really wasn’t fair in the slightest. And on top of it all, he was amiable. The two of you got along swimmingly, half in part to how close you are in age and the other half since you’re both mad about biotechnology.

You tried. You really did. Tried not to develop a crush on him. But the more you got to know him, the more days spent together, you felt yourself falling deeper and deeper because it wasn’t just about looks anymore. You liked him. A lot too. You can’t even explain why. You learned rather quickly he’s no lady killer like he’s looks suggested—oh no. He’s the biggest dork you’ve ever met.  And now you’re head over heels with no hope of going back. It was a rather futile attempt to resist it.

Sitting at your desk, you rub your hands over your face trying to get those thoughts out of your head. Or at least shove them to the far depths of your brain so you can continue to act like everything is fine and not like your heart is going to overwork itself anytime he’s anywhere near you. And god—was that getting increasingly difficult. With your first year ending and presenting your research at the National Biotech Conference coming up, the two of you have been spending more and more late nights in the lab together. Alone.

You might as well dig your grave now.

Just a few nights ago the night ended early because he set off the fire alarm making a hot pocket. The two of you too enamored with the project to notice the microwave on the verge of combusting. Why the hell he put it in there for five minutes was beyond you, but he tried to explain that he was planning on taking it out before the timer ran out. The memory of it makes the corner of your mouth quirk upward.

“You bored out of your mind already?” A voice teases from behind you, making you to jolt in your seat.

Speak of the devil.

You turn in your chair to find none other than the root of your problems: Dr. Kuroo. Jesus fuck you can barely look straight at him without feeling some sort of nerves ball up in your stomach.

Giving him a weak smile, you say, “Those all-nighters are really getting the best of me.”

His eyes soften and christ—you need medical help to deal with the way your heart is stuttering in your chest. By the end of this conversation you’re going to need a defibrillator with the way he smiles at you sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “Riiiight. About those….” He avoids your gaze and you already know what’s coming.

“Another one tonight?”

He sighs. “Yeah. Sorry about that. We’re just really down to the wire now. I want to make sure everything is set.”

You wave him off, there’s nothing to apologize for. You knew what you were getting into here. And you know it’s only his second conference as a distinguished member of the community, so he has a standard to uphold.

A startled gasp escapes you when his voice appears right next to your goddamn ear, his warm breath against your skin practically sending you into a frenzy. “You working on the statistics?” The nod you give him is almost imperceptible, afraid any movements from you are going to give away how his proximity is making you feel. His eyes scan your screen before patting you on the shoulder. “Looks good so far, send it to me when you’re done.”

You let out a breath of relief you didn’t know you were holding when he moves away.

How the fuck are you going to survive the next year?

Hell—how are you going to survive a week-long convention with him?

As he heads back to his own desk, Kuroo glances warily around the office to make note of any suspicious onlookers. It’s been harder and harder to keep that professional line with you, and every public conversation you shared he was highly aware to not slip into his easy mannerisms he found himself indulging in during all those late nights. Because fuck him—he liked you. Why did he of all the options get assigned the one graduate student who is his age and is fucking gorgeous on top of your academic prowess?

He never stood a chance.

He is barreling straight towards an academic violation at full speed and his brakes are broken. That’s how bad it is.

But goddamn he can keep it in his pants for the sake of his job and your career.

That sentiment went to shit that night.

You’re late, which almost never happens. He can count on one hand the times you’ve been late. And you always texted him with your ETA and an explanation but tonight…silence. He knows you haven’t left, he saw you a little over an hour ago speaking to Dr. Yu, and a quick trip to your desk confirms it; all your stuff is still here.

He’s lucky to catch Dr. Yu on his way out, asking if he knows of your whereabouts. “You haven’t seen her?” His brows lift. “Must’ve gotten caught up in the library. Said she was going to stop by there before your meeting.”

Kuroo does an excellent job of hiding his confusion. Meeting? Is that what you’ve been disguising your all-nighters with him as to your colleagues?

That means you feel there’s a reason to keep it a secret.

Or is he reading too far into it?

Nonetheless, he strides towards the library, irked to find most of the lights off and it utterly silent inside. He checks the table area first, then peruses the shelf, peeking down each to see if you’re actually in here. It’s likely you already left and are now waiting for him in the lab in the time since he’s begun looking for you.

He finds you in one of the farthest corners of the library and it isn’t until he approaches you does he realize the situation he’s just put the two of you in.

Alone.

In the dark library.

You’re sat deep into an armchair, legs curled up underneath you, head resting on your hand while you flip through the pages of a book sitting in your lap. You look so picturesque he can’t help but stare for a few seconds before clearing his throat to alert you to his presence.

He scares the absolute shit out of you.

Leaping out of the chair, the book clattering to the floor, you shout, “Holy fu—Dr. Kuroo! You can’t just do that!” Then you blink, like your brain is catching up to you, then you frantically check your watch and outwardly groan. “I knew I should have set an alarm. Sorry, just lost track of time back here.” Smirking softly, he takes a step forward, bending to pick up the book sprawled on the floor. He hands it to you, your fingertips brushing his, a jolt of lightning spearing through you at the contact.

Every sense of yours is filled with his presence, your head clouded with thoughts of what if you just…closed that gap. What would happen if you took just one step forward? Would he let you run your hands over his chest, snaking around his neck to tangle into his dark hair? What would it feel like to press your body against his?

Holy hell—you need to get out of here.

It’s then that you realize you’ve been staring at him.

And that he’s holding your gaze, his golden eyes locked onto yours. The air is so charged you feel like your entire body is buzzing, urging you to indulge in the thoughts swirling in your head. You open your mouth to break the silence, grasping at any sense of logic you have left to end this dangerously tempting situation.

Kuroo’s last strand of self-control splintered the moment he caught you staring at him so intently. The same thoughts weaving through his head as yours, the fantasy he’s had for months now of holding you against him, his lips pressed to yours, is so tantalizingly close he can barely stand it.

So, he comes to decision. Before this opportunity eludes him, he has to act now. He watches as your mouth opens, your better judgement clearly still intact, and before you can get a word out, he leans down to kiss you. His hands finding their way to your waist, tugging you to him, he’s pleasantly delighted to find you sink into him. Your own hands reaching up to curl into his shirt, soft mouth moving against his own, he almost groans at how you’re reacting to him.

He’s intoxicating, the way his fingers are digging into the skin of your waist, how his tongue slips into your mouth, you can barely keep your feet underneath you. What’s even more exhilarating to you is that he initiated this.

He wanted you too.

The thought makes you a bit dizzy.

When he feels your hands travel from his collar to slip your fingers through his hair, this time he can’t help it, a deep pleased sound escaping him, rumbling through your entire body and sending heat straight to your core. Jesus Christ this man his going to be the absolute death of you.

“Fuck,” he mutters, his hands roam from your waist to cup your ass, using the leverage to press you even closer to him, letting you feel just what exactly you’re doing to him. All he can think is that he wants more, he wants you underneath him, chest heaving, moaning his name and no one else’s. With that on his mind, he splays his fingers out underneath your thighs, intending on lifting your legs around him.

The action turns your brain back on, the gears working hard through the haze clouding your mind, realizing where exactly this is going. Your sense of reason finally coming through, screaming: Stop! What the fuck are you doing?! Instinctively, you shove him away from you.

He blinks in surprise as he stumbles back into the bookshelf, thrown off by your sudden rejection.

Your heart crumbles seeing his hurt expression. It’s no use denying it anymore. You want him. So bad that you were this close to throwing all caution to the wind just now. But you can’t, not under the circumstances. He is your colleague. Your superior. What the hell were you thinking?!

Steeling your resolve, you say quietly, “Kuroo…I—That…that shouldn’t have happened.”

You can’t even look at him, too afraid of what will happen if you do.

He knows you’re lying.

He stares at you for a moment, considering all his options. Truly, he’d like to just gather you up in his arms, assuring you everything will be fine, and kissing your worries away until you melt beneath him again. But he knows that’s crossing the line. Instead, he settles on making his feelings clear. He wants you to know where he stands. He doesn’t want you to think what just happened meant nothing to him. But he’s willing to give you space to put your thoughts together.

“I need you to look at me,” he says.

You bite your lip. “I can’t.” Now your throat feels tight with the effort of keeping tears at bay. Why is it like this? Why did you have to meet him in this way? He says your name like a command, so you ball your fists in determination and raise your watery eyes to meet his.

With such surety and resolve it just about makes you burst into tears, he tells you clearly, “I’m so head over heels for you it’s not even funny.”

He’s right, this isn’t funny. It’s anything but. And he’s making it worse by being so goddamn perfect you want to scream. The universe must really be a bitch for putting you through this, making you fall in love with someone who is so off limits. You can feel your heart wilting within your chest as you plead, “I need to leave.”

He lets you go, despite every instinct telling him not to. He spends the night in the lab alone, barely getting anything done through his ever-present thoughts of you. He tries to remain hopeful, that somehow this will all work out. That on Monday you’ll come to work, and everything will be alright.

Monday morning, he finds out you’ve put in a request to join a separate project.

He doesn’t know what to do with the growing hole forming in his chest.

And neither do you.

~

part two part three part four