#also *waves gingerly* hi i'm back a little bit

[daijoboob]

what if i handed you a slightly off-season werewolf/vampire youriko piece

[spookyspecterino]

I saw you opened requests fire Eric x reader from AQPDO. How about they meet in the boat to the island and he likes her she likes him but she doesn’t want to give in bc she’s scared that they can die anytime so she avoids him. In the end, it’s Frodo who brings them together.

Try to Live, For Me.

Spoilers for A Quiet Place: Day one

Eric x Reader (no pronouns/descriptions, no use of y/n)

This also took me a little while. I went overboard again because I really like introspective writing. More to come!

For everyone who sent me a request, I see them. I promise I'm not ignoring you, I'm just a slow writer (and a bit of a perfectionist).

cw: light angst (with happy ending), mention of death, crying, some language.

“Come on!”

“Jump!”

“You’re almost there!”

People stand at the boat's edge in a large cluster, waving, leaning over the railing, and calling to someone on the shore. You start paying attention as the boat engines shut down, sputtering out, letting the sound of the water and the wind surround you. Getting up is slow, the muscles in your legs are tired and need that rest time, they groan and stretch as you move too fast; your body’s weariness fights with the spike of adrenaline that spurs you to life.

If the boat engines had been on, you wouldn’t have heard the splash. People surged forward trying to get a better look, through the tightly pressed bodies pieces of the shore are visible—the monsters crowd the pier, shrieking and clawing. Whoever jumped into the water just barely made it by the looks of things.

The person is pulled on board, their yellow cardigan sticks out among the grey, dull tones of everyone else’s clothes. The crowd parts quickly as a streak of white and black shoots past them…and right into your arms—you barely register the thing until you feel it clawing up your pants.

It’s a cat.

Bright green eyes look up at you curiously, the fur around its face is wet and clumped together. The little thing readjusts in your arms, getting more comfortable, you almost want to protest but it’s too cute and warm as it blinks up at you slowly.

The crowd is still parted, staring curiously between the cat and the man. His eyes, big brown and teary, catch yours, they dart from the cat to you a few times. He wants his cat back.

As you hold the cat close and step forward, the disappointment stings. The wet little fuzzball purrs in your arms. It’s the first comfort you’ve had since everything went to shit and you’re not ready to give that up yet.

The man reaches out and you gingerly pass him his cat. He hugs it close, burying his face in its black and white fur. He looks up at you again as you hover there, unsure what to do or say—you want to say something, smile, and sit and talk to this cute guy, but the engines start up again. Your focus shifts and the curious expression on your face is replaced with a scowl.

“Good cat.” You murmur before turning away and taking your spot in the back.

. . .

Time passes slowly as the sound of the boat engines lulls you to sleep, grey clouds blot out the sky, and any conversation on the boat deck can’t be heard above the sound of the marching engine and the wind as it whips around you. The bits of sleep you manage to snag are fitful and short, filled with screams and shrieks, long limbs, sharp teeth, and blood.

You jerk awake, reaching out blindly to fleeting shadows. It feels like you were talking to someone, just the faint impression that you were deep in a conversation when consciousness ripped it away.

Rubbing a hand over your face, you take a few deep breaths, then you catch the cat watching you. It’s bundled up in the yellow cardigan with the man’s arms around it. Something in those green eyes catches you and holds you there. A staring contest with a cat, how odd.

Eventually, the man’s eyes open and he sees you staring. You quickly look away, trying to act disinterested. From your peripheral vision, you can see he’s still watching you. Something foreign—a long-forgotten feeling—in your stomach flutters.

“Excuse me,” he starts hesitantly, “Do you know where we’re going?”

He’s English? The thought is pushed to the very back of your mind instantly.

The shore is to the boat’s port side, which means it’s following the coast. “Probably to one of the islands up the Sound, near Connecticut.”

He nods, looking a little lost, and shifts in place; the cat takes advantage of this and slips from his arms, it pads over to you, ears perked, its tail straight up in the air. It sniffs you once, deems you worthy, and climbs into your lap. Tiny white paws knead your pants a few times before they settle and lay down.

The man smiles. “He likes you.”

You gingerly pet the cat’s head, your hardened attitude cracks ever so slightly as it leans into your touch. “This is probably the friendliest cat I’ve ever met.”

“His name is Frodo, he’s very unique.”

As you keep petting Frodo, curiosity gets the better of you. “Where are you from?”

“Kent—England.”

“That’s the south-east side, right? Were you closer to London or more towards the coast?”

The man perks up a little. “Closer to London. Have you been?”

“No, I just…I like looking at maps.” What a weird thing to say. Why are you even saying this? “I’ve always wanted to travel to Europe and the UK though.”

“It’s beautiful there.” He sounds far off now.

You position yourself to face him better and the cat stretches out. Petting along its back, a loud purring erupts from its entire body. “What were you doing in New York?”

“Going to Law School.”

“Damn, ok Mr. Fancy Pants.” A crooked smile lifts one side of your face.

He laughs. “Hardly.”

“You should own that, not many people get accepted into Law School, which means you must be a brainiac or something. An attractive lawyer with an English accent could get away with anything here.”

It wins another smile from him, and he blushes a little. Despite yourself, it feels good to see it. You wouldn’t mind seeing it more often. His voice is nice, and his brown eyes are pretty and kind-looking.

“What about you, what do you do?”

“Oh.” You wave a hand. “I’m a chef.”

“Not bad.”

“I guess.”

“You don’t enjoy it?”

“No, I love it, but it’s not as fancy as being a lawyer.”

The cat stretches again, and for the first time since the world ended, you smile. You catch the man staring and look away quickly before you can put too much thought into it.

He leans over a little. “I think being a chef is very fancy.”

The smile stays. “Flatterer. What’s your name?”

“Eric. And you?”

You tell him as if you’re chatting with a friend. As if you haven’t seen more death than you normally would have in two lifetimes. As if everything is normal and the last three days weren’t spent clawing and dragging yourself through hell, fighting every inch for your goddamn life. The realization sits with you afterward as the Sound stretches out around the boat. It’s foolish to be this open with a random person, but as he looks at you with such unbridled warmth, the thought fades as quickly as it appears.

“So, when we get to this island are you going to cook for me?”

“For your sake, I hope not.” The smile returns easily. “When we get there are you going to recite all the New York laws you’ve learned? I could use something to fall asleep now that I don’t have a phone.”

He tries to hold back a wicked grin. “Would it be a surprise if I told you I’ve forgotten nearly all of them?”

“Eric, I’m never hiring you to be my lawyer. I hope we can remain friends though.”

“That is a crushing loss, but I’ll accept it.”

The boat ride continues like that. Eric makes you laugh, and you make him laugh too. It’s nice. You catch his eyes lingering at times when you look out over the water, when he looks off in the distance you stare back, memorizing his features no matter how many alarms ring in your mind.

You feel safe, your body relaxes, your mind wanders to things that aren’t survival. Your guard drops.

But it doesn’t last.

The first thing that gets your attention is when people start standing up and moving to the front of the boat. They quietly shuffle, wrapping themselves up, huddling in groups, talking. The boat’s foghorn blasts out twice, Eric glances at you before getting to his feet and picking up Frodo. He reaches a hand down to help you up.

Something twists in your gut as the sandy shoreline of the island comes into view. A small pier made of rickety planks that looks like it’s falling apart stands alone, reaching out to the boat among gently lapping waves.

Your exit point.

Everyone else seems excited, they gather their things and talk excitedly with smiles. Even Eric is smiling as he holds Frodo up to see the shore. He looks around and behind him to see you not by his side but towards the back of the boat.

A crewman shouts out: “Everyone goes to the main campsite mess hall. Big white building up the shore—a straight shot from the pier.”

People bustle across the boat ramp; Eric’s yellow cardigan is lost in the crowd as you continue to hang back. Something doesn’t let you move forward; something keeps your legs locked.

You don’t know this area. You can’t see past the trees; you don’t know what’s in the little buildings behind the mess hall. Survival instincts rush back, uninvited, you brace for something to come crashing through the buildings or the trees. The rush of people down the pier is noisy, their pounding feet hit the planks and the sound echoes across the water. You expect to hear screams or for the crowd to scatter. You expect the clearing to be filled with bodies any minute now.

“Hey, off the boat unless you want to go back to Manhattan.” The crewman chuckles darkly.

Fine. You’d take your chances with the trees.

. . .

People are waiting on the porch of the mess hall, the area they dropped you off is an old campsite with a few cabins scattered on the edge of the cleared area. They wear clean clothes, they aren’t covered in dirt, and their faces look well-rested. They’re shouting instructions to the crowd, something about cabins for families and tents or sleeping bags.

The crowd watches the people on the porch.

You watch the tree line.

And Eric watches you.

When he finally catches your eyes, he smiles that handsome, crooked smile. It’s an invitation for you to join him, to start this new life together.

But you turn away, stuffing the guilt and shame down and focusing on the survival mindset that’s already crept back into place. If you went with him, if you built a new life with him, how would you feel if he died the same as the others who didn’t make it to the boats? The ones whose bodies are now scattered on the streets of Manhattan.

It would break you. Simple as that.

. . .

Families are getting the cabins first and foremost. Pairs or groups of three are given tents. Everyone else gets sleeping bags. The clean, well-dressed woman had looked you over with a hint of pity as you answered her questions, and she checked them off on her clipboard.

“Any family with you?”

“No.”

“Did you arrive with anyone?”

“…No.”

“You don’t have anyone? You don’t know anyone?”

“No...”

She pauses, studying you. “I’m going to make an exception and give you a tent, you can set it up with the group. There are a few over there that have minor injuries, try to help them in the mornings.”

Eric had gotten a sleeping bag and was directed toward the mess hall with the others.

After the first night, he had come out looking worse than when he had gone in. His eyes were red, and he dragged his feet while Frodo padded next to him with a light step.

Of course, the cat would come over to you and rub against your legs. Eric trailed behind the fuzzy menace, despite how awful he looked he still greeted you with a smile.

Damnit.

“You got a tent. Very nice.”

“…Take it.”

“What?”

“I want you to have my tent, I’ll take your sleeping bag.”

“Uh…I don’t…”

You stand. “Eric, take the tent.”

“…Why? Would you rather sleep in the mess hall? I don’t recommend it, the others… they grieve at night.”

Damn his pleading brown eyes. Why couldn’t he make this easy on you?

“It’s fine. Please, take the tent. I’m going to sleep outside anyway.”

 “I can’t let you—”

“If you don’t take the tent, it will stay empty. Trust me when I say I’m more comfortable away from the tents.”

Eric struggles to accept your offer but won’t fight you—he looks too tired to argue. “Ok.”

Before he can say anything else, you turn away and head toward the mess hall.

. . .

They assign you to the kitchen. Somehow, it’s familiar and foreign at the same time. That’s fine with you, it gives you an excuse to get up before everyone else and avoid most meals when the groups get together and eat.

They always talk so loudly.

You get up early and go to bed late, helping during downtimes wherever you’re needed. Cooking takes up your early mornings, building cabins takes up your afternoons. In the evenings you sit and eat alone before returning to the kitchen to clean up and prepare for the next morning.

Sleeping outside isn’t bad either, the bonuses are worth it. Away from the rest, it’s quiet, only the chirping summer bugs can be heard. You can see the stars when you look up and you can watch the tree line when you can’t sleep, which is almost every night.

Frodo found you working in the kitchen and now comes to see you every morning, waiting just outside the back door. You start leaving the back door open, sneaking Frodo little scraps of food when no one is looking. And then, the other night, he found your sleeping spot. He says goodnight to you every night now.

Occasionally, you’ll have a nightmare—a memory of Manhattan, it’s always a memory—you’ll wake up struggling, suffocating in your sleeping bag to find Frodo watching you. On those nights he always cuddles with you and stays until morning. Those mornings you take him back to Eric. It’s like the little fuzz ball knows you’ll do it too as he jaunts across the lawn, looking back and waiting for you to catch up.

Eric always looks so happy to see you.

“He uh…he was with me last night—I promise I’m not trying to steal him, he just…”

“Found you?”

“Yeah.”

“He’s good at that.” He pauses. “Did you sleep last night?”

You sigh, rubbing your neck. “I’m fine.”

“That wasn’t my question.” he gently corrects. “You look tired…”

“Frodo helped.”

“If something is bothering you, you can always—”

“No, I just…it’s different here. I’m not used to…”

Eric waits patiently, as always, with kind and gentle eyes. It makes you want to scream.

You shake your head. “We’re having mashed potatoes later.” And then you’re gone.

No matter how much you avoid or give him your best scowl, he still tries to worm his way into your heart. Most people here are trying to do the same thing. They offer you food and water when taking a break from building cabins. They call you by name when they see you around. They invite you to eat at their table during dinner—you decline as curtly as possible, they always understand. Most of them came with families or friends, and many of them have made new friends. All of them have someone else.

They’re real people. You’re still stuck in Manhattan.

You’re waiting for the other shoe to drop, for those things to find their way here, for everything to come crumbling down again. When people invite you to join them it only makes you angry—they’re acting like this is normal. It’s not. Less than 50 miles away, on the mainland, those things are still crawling around, they could appear here any day now.

This could all end, and it would end quickly.

When you think about this, your mind goes to Eric and Frodo. Your mind traces out how you might be able to get them out and what the best possible way to do that would be. Then you catch yourself—you didn’t survive to this point by being worried over others.

. . .

“May I sit?”

It’s Henri, a man from the same boat who’s taken charge more than the fancy clipboard people ever could. His family made it to the boat with him and he’s been the most vocal about how lucky everyone is and how they should make the best of things. He keeps people’s spirits high, which means he’s going to try and talk to you about—

He sits anyway, even though you haven’t said a word. Your unfinished dinner sits on your lap. Maybe one of the kids will want it.

“I notice you, sitting alone most dinners. Why don’t you join the group?”

“They’re too loud.”

His expression changes. “I understand. You were also from Manhattan?”

“…Yeah.”

“Eric, he has only nice things to say about you. He cares for you.”

Your attention perks up, you try not to let that bother you.

“He says you may be still getting over everything.”

When you offer no response, Henri continues. “You avoid everyone because you think those creatures will appear and our way of life will return to survival, is that right?”

“Sure.”

He nods. “I’m also cautious, every night I worry for my family, for the good people here… but I cannot let those fears control me or stop me from living again. Fear kept you alive back then, but it’s time to let go.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“If I let myself and somehow this all…ends. I won’t be able to—to keep going.”

“Would you stop yourself from living based on that? We are safe here—”

“For now.”

Henri sighs. “It’s hard to let your guard down. I want to remain strong for my family, but my son needs a father who opens up and learns how to live again. Eric is the same—he continues to hold hope for you, even when you turn him away. He wants to share this life with you.”

“How often do you talk to Eric?” You ask, growing defensive. Henri sounds like he knows everything. Shit. He probably does.

“I see how he looks at you.” He leans a little closer. “And I see how you watch him sometimes. How you guard him from imaginary monsters—how you gave your tent to him, and how you feed his cat, Frodo.”

You shake your head. This is too much. “Eric will move on. I was just being nice.”

“Your mind is still in Manhattan,” Henri says, standing and wiping his pants. “No one but you can change that. Think of all the people here who know you. They’ve let go; They are happy. You deserve to be happy too.” He walks off, leaving your mind spinning.

All the people that know me?

. . .

“Here’s some water.” Marci hands you a bottle with a smile as you sit on a long wooden plank. “Nice job on the cabin, it’s coming along. Oh, my son made you this.” The woman hands you a crudely made drawing on a crumpled paper. Not many crayons made the trip, so it’s only got blue and green colors. It shows the little boy—Will, you think his name is—Marci and their dog in front of a mansion.

You huff, it’s the closest thing to laughter you’ll allow. “I’m afraid it won’t be this big.”

“He knows that, he’s just really excited to sleep under a roof again.”

You fold the page up, slipping it into your back pocket. “Happy to help.”

A man passes Marci, and she starts talking to him excitedly. You take the opportunity to stand and slip away—it’s nearly 3 o’clock, and dinner will begin in a few hours.

A familiar streak of white and black joins you, purring against your leg. “Hey, Frodo.”

The cat looks up at you with sharp green eyes, stopping in front of you.

“No more snacks, I already gave you some earlier.”

Frodo meows, loudly. It’s uncharacteristic of him.

“What?”

Another meow.

“Are you really that upset over the snack? Geeze cat, fine, you can have a little bit.”

You move around him, still heading towards the back door of the mess hall kitchen, but he stays completely still…and meows again.

Looking back, you frown. “What is it? Why are you being so noisy today?”

Frodo takes a few steps toward the tents, then pauses and looks back to meow.

You’re paying attention now. Frodo never does this. “You want me to follow you, is that it?”

The cat turns, tail held low, and continues toward the tents. You’re quick to follow—it’s midday, everyone should be up, almost no one hangs around the tents until it gets dark, and the lanterns are lit.

What makes it worse is as Frodo weaves through the tents, he heads straight for Eric’s.

The tent flap is mostly closed, but the fuzzball slips in the crack at the bottom. Before you pull the flap back, your mind runs wild with possibilities. All of them equally grim. All are laced with the thought: What will I do if he’s gone?

But you pull the flap up to see Eric leaning over while he sits on his cot with his head in his hands. He holds a piece of paper that’s been crumpled up and weathered. You see thin, cursive writing on it.

Frodo sits just inside the entrance. You motion to the cat wordlessly. Do your job!

It blinks up at you and doesn’t move.

Which means it’s up to you.

“Eric?”

He sits up, sniffling and furiously wiping his eyes with a sleeve. “Oh, hi. I—I didn’t see you there.”

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He gingerly folds up the piece of paper, carefully avoiding your eyes.

This is not your forte, but Frodo led you here because he thought you could help, so you’ll do your best.

“What’s that?” You ask, coming over to sit next to him on his cot. Your movements are slow and careful as if you don’t want to spook him.

He glances at the paper. “It’s a note, from a dear friend of mine. She…she didn’t make it to the boat.” He holds it out to you.

Taking it from him you open it back up and scan the lines. It’s beautiful and there are hints of prose used, all written with neat handwriting.

“What was her name?”

His voice cracks with emotion. “Sam.”

Folding the paper back up carefully, you put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry Eric.”

He leans into your touch. “Me too, but I’m thankful to have met her.”

He wipes his eyes again. A simple realization hits you like a truck—Eric has lost someone, yet he continues to go on, he cherishes those memories. He doesn’t stop himself from making new ones or holding back, he embraces life even after experiencing loss. Not to mention that he’s in a different country, everything he knows is across the ocean—and there’s no way for him to return.

“Are you alright?” he asks, looking at you with furrowed brows.

“I…” You swallow back a lump in your throat. “I owe you an apology.”

“What for?” He turns slightly to face you, his knee bumping into yours. The touch lingers, but you don’t move away.

“I’ve been cold to you since we got here.”

Eric gently snickers. “Since the boat ride, I’ve been wondering if you didn’t like me anymore. It’s not a big deal—”

“I like you a lot. That was part of the problem. I like you so much that I’m terrified of losing you.”

His joking smile drops a little, giving way to something more serious, something more vulnerable.

You continue, trying to wipe the encroaching scowl off your face. Being vulnerable and enjoying life is not a weakness.

“On the boat, I felt safe. Here, I struggle—I keep thinking we’re going to be attacked at any moment.”

Eric gently takes your hand, it twitches at first but relaxes when the warmth spreads from his palm to yours.

“I still feel like I’m still in Manhattan. I don’t want to lose everything again. I can’t lose everything again; I can’t handle that. So, I…I just don’t get close.”

Eric touches your cheek and brings your head up to look at him. “You are so strong. Ever since I first met you on the boat, I knew that. Do you feel stronger when you’re alone?”

You think over his question for a moment—of all the nights you’ve spent jumping at shadows, wrestling with nightmares and ‘what ifs’, of all the times you wanted to sing along with the others as they sat by the bonfire at night.

“I feel prepared…but, ultimately, no.”

“There’s strength in community and kindness. The others recognize how strong you are, and they still call you by name, they still offer you a space next to them. You might not want that, but I know you’ve seen it.”

“They’re very nice.” You admit. “I always thought it was easier alone.”

“I disagree. I think things are harder alone. I think things are harder without someone to lean on when you have trouble, or when you’re scared, and you doubt yourself. I don’t want you to sleep alone in the woods anymore—I want you to start relying on me.”

You nod holding back tears as you get absorbed in Eric’s kindness. “Ok.”

As Eric leans his forehead to yours, things don’t seem as bleak anymore. It’s a new feeling. Some ideas span months in the future vs. wondering what will happen tomorrow. The smiling faces of others are no longer pushed to the back of your mind, making noise doesn’t seem like a crime anymore.

It will take time to unlearn the survival mindset and truly let yourself live again. But you have Eric and Frodo to help you now.

And months from now, as you lay in Eric’s warm arms whispering—not out of necessity, but for fun—with Frodo sleeping in the gap between legs, you think back to all the nights in the woods or all the dinners when you ate alone. This is nice—fuck it, this is great.

Eric kisses you in the chilly Autumn air every chance he gets. You play with the kids as they grow astonishingly fast. You and Eric build your new home from scratch, and he carries you across the threshold when it’s finished. When you share a bed—a real bed—Eric holds you and protests when you need to get up in the morning.

You’re happy.

You’re finally alive again.

[shirefantasies]

Hi!! I just found your blog and I love the way you write your headcanons! I was wondering if there's anyway you could write how each of the company in the hobbit would cuddle? or how they'd show physical affection? If not, that's fine, just thought I'd ask! (sorry if this is a bit weirdly worded I don't actually request things often lol, I've just been in such a the hobbit mood and found your blog and loved it immediately.)

Thank you sweetie and I'm so glad you love my headcanons 🥰 but this imagine YUS YUS YUS!!! My Hobbit mood has been coming in big ol waves of late heck yeah 🫡

Thorin’s Company + Physical Affection

Balin

✧ If you fall and he catches you, you may notice the way his hands wind around your waist and keep you for just a moment longer than absolutely necessary.

✧ Always the one who does your fastens for you and helps you into your coat, lingering touches therein as well.

✧ Sometimes his hand will just creep over as he listens to you, taking yours and drawing encouraging circles upon the back of it.

✧ Pulls you closer into his chest in the cold, whispering that it's alright, don't be shy as you melt into him.

✧ Almost always at your side with a hand placed gently but firmly upon your shoulder, half guiding, half guarding.

Dwalin

✧ This guy...is not very physically affectionate. You're going to have to coax it out of him like a stray cat.

✧ He enjoys sparring with you if you're down and you may notice he prefers pinning you or wrestling you down to, say, literally any other member of the company, but that feels like something beyond affection...

✧ "Are you hurt? Let me see." For the strength of his hands, he cradles your head, your arm, whatever it may be, so gently and warmly.

✧ Acts exasperated when you show up at his side to cuddle, accepts only “because it’s so cold, I suppose it’d be right”, then wraps his arms around you and holds you against his chest as tight as he can.

✧ Seated at a table, Dwalin will keep an arm draped over the back of your chair at all times.

Thorin

✧ His hands go to you first after any sort of danger, holding you back initially then laying a hand on your shoulder as he checks you over, ensuring no harm came to you.

✧ Asks for your hand, taking it in his when your travels get difficult so as to lead you along the safest path he can find.

✧ Wraps you up in his coat, his hands sliding down your arms after he drapes it upon you, staying like that for a moment with his chest to your back.

✧ Big spoon. That feeling of care, of presiding over your warmth and safety and everything Thorin can give absolutely translates to your sleep, your solace. It means the world to him if he can be your comfort.

✧ Even in idle times, Thorin tends to stand with a hand wrapped around your waist, not grasping you tightly or restricting you in any way, but simply enough to keep you near and make it clear that you are his.

Oin

✧ Offering massages is basically a love language for him. The others are always asking him and sometimes he gets annoyed or just does it grudgingly, but when it is you? He takes his time, uses your favorite oils, savors the connection between you two and your hums of pleasure.

✧ Oin loves asking you for help just as an excuse to have you near, your hands darting beneath his to grab supplies or holding down his work, his own coming to cover yours as often as he can spare them.

✧ In the moments you get to sit next to each other, his hand will gingerly rest over yours. If you tense up at all, you can feel his grip tighten just a little bit, giving you a reassuring squeeze.

✧ Likes loose cuddling, simply your arms draped over his side as you rest alongside each other. Also not-so-secretly enjoys being the little spoon- indulge him every now and again!

✧ Has been known to give your cheeks the occasional affectionate pinch or squeeze, just smiling and chuckling giddily to himself at the sight of you before he leans in for a kiss.

Gloin

✧ Always fussing over your hair, whether it's getting things out of it or even knowing its entire care routine and performing it for you if you let him, his hands dressing it practically reverently.

✧ Gets bored, forgets himself and plays with your hands. If you wear rings, he probably slides those around or spins them a bit. He enjoys intertwining your fingers again and again and keeping both of your hands in his as he peers at you.

✧ When simply standing around, he sometimes will stand behind you and drape his arms over your shoulders as if claiming you.

✧ Will practically wrestle you into position if you try to make him little spoon. You have to get him tired enough before he’ll accept not being the one to hold you.

✧ Grabs you up into the biggest, bone-crushing in the best of ways, bear hugs you've ever had the pleasure of being swept into.

Bifur

✧ Speech can be so difficult, the feeling of trying without success so frustrating that a meaningful touch is simpler and infinitely more calming. A favorite of his is a simple hand on the shoulder, a gesture of care.

✧ He also loves teasingly elbowing you to get your attention, whether it's to show you something or just to say hello!

✧ Tracing each and every line and curvature of your face is his guilty pleasure; it is as though he is at work silently memorizing your every feature.

✧ Looser with cuddling, the feeling sometimes suffocating, especially if he has a nightmare. Rather than cage you in or be caged in, Bifur prefers the simple feeling of your hand upon his chest or your head leaned against his while you sleep.

✧ Absolutely loves decorating you, feeling like an attendant to royalty as he slides rings onto your finger, bracelets and necklaces he made around your neck or wrist. Such moments are some of the most tender between you, the way he looks at you afterward and the way his hands caress you after each beauty is set to magnifying yours.

Bofur

✧ Has a little habit of just taking your hand and twirling you when you stand together, almost as if you're dancing in place.

✧ When you truly are dancing, you know Bofur will be dipping you down for a kiss nearly every time!

✧ Cuddling is all over the place. Snakes his arms around you and pulls you into his lap when he’s feeling particularly merry. Lays facing you before sleep, your legs tangled together in the most wonderful mess.

✧ Bofur has this little habit of falling onto you when you’re laughing together, playfully shoving you before his hands fall into your lap or grab your knee.

✧ Hugs from Bofur often turn into him picking you up and spinning you around!

Bombur

✧ As I've mentioned, he is the best with a partner who has anxiety, basically becoming a living weighted blanket atop you.

✧ Though shy and subtle he can be with his initial affections, Bombur is very cuddly. The greatest cuddler, in fact. Your shared bedroll is the coziest one of the whole lot.

✧ Has been known to, upon being in a bolder mood, turn his head when you lean to kiss his cheek, capturing your lips instead! Has the biggest smile upon success, so you can never be upset.

✧ Pulls you into a hug the moment you say or do something cute.

✧ Great acts of service fellow as he is, Bombur will often offer things like scratching your back or rubbing tension from your neck as a means of getting closer while still providing for you.

Dori

✧ Small, subtle touches, like letting his hands cover yours when you accept the steaming mug of tea he hands you.

✧ He also loves running a thumb over the back of your hand when you sit side by side, sharing that one point of connection between you two.

✧ Always does a cute little tap to your knee after he laces up your boots for you, a little wink topping the endearing gesture off.

✧ The type who loves to lay with your heads against each other, cheeks brushing, especially as you look at the stars, discussing everything beneath the sun and very well likely some things not beneath it at all.

✧ Shocks you when you sit at a table and you feel his hand on your knee, and again when it moves up and down, tracing a little pattern on your thigh.

Nori

✧ I still maintain that Nori would be the main perpetrator of the classic yawning or stretching as an excuse to put an arm around you. Once you're pulled in, though? Good luck getting back out! You are nothing if not secure in his grasp.

✧ Cheekily sliding his hand into your pocket, especially if you have a back pocket, is his favorite.

✧ If there is any possibility of him not being able to hear you, Nori will lean in as close as he can, possibly even drawing you forward with a hand beneath your chin, grinning if you get flustered.

✧ Ideal cuddling position, you ask? Why, with him on top of you, obviously! Enough said.

✧ When it isn’t in your pocket, he nearly always has a hand at the small of your back when you walk. He occasionally uses it to guide you, but mostly he likes to run it up and down your spine, occasionally running his nails down too, giving you a cheeky look when he does it.

Ori

✧ Oscillates between being too shy to show physical affection and a natural propensity to misunderstand personal space. For example, he'll probably not want to kiss you in front of his older brothers lest they tease him, but when he gets excited about his latest drawing he practically throws his arms entirely around you to show you his sketchpad.

✧ Shares his scarf with you, winding the two of you both into its long, thick warmth and flushing as you lean in closer and closer beneath it.

✧ The kisses you share in private are almost desperate, hands clinging to whatever fold of fabric they can reach to draw each other in.

✧ Enjoys pretty much any way you lie together, facing each other, back to back, you name it, Ori is eager for it!

✧ Rubs your hands between his own to keep you warm, straightens your clothes up for you, little tending touches that lead to kisses upon your hands or head.

Fili

✧ Gives amazing hugs, pulling you into his arms and soothingly, lovingly sliding a hand up and down your back.

✧ So sweet, he loves swinging your joined hands between you both if you are granted the opportunity for a leisurely stroll.

✧ Always wants to be the big spoon when you guys cuddle, that position feeling much more protective of you, secure as he can hold you.

✧ Sneaks up behind you to cover your eyes, asking ‘guess who’ and chuckling at the way you startle if he catches you by surprise.

✧ Offers you his arm when you walk together and smiling when you link yours with his and rest your hand upon his upper arm.

Kili

✧ In love with physical affection. Who cares who sees you? Not this dwarven prince, that is certain! Completely unafraid to pull you into his lap and hold you, pride crossing his face.

✧ Pulls your joined hands into his pockets as you walk side by side.

✧ When he teaches you how to shoot, he guides you smoothly by the hips, hands running down your sides and along the length of your arms until you reach the proper stance.

✧ His favorite way to cuddle is you lain upon his chest, your head against his heart and right there for him to place kisses atop.

✧ You two are a tangled mess at fireside, someone’s legs always thrown upon the other’s lap.

Bilbo

✧ Rather than show you over-the-top affection, Bilbo is the sort to just stay glued to your side, joining you at the hip for even the most mundane tasks even if it’s under the guise of “getting a break from all the dwarves”.

✧ Similarly, he’ll offer to hold your hands “because it’s quite crowded” or “just so you don’t fall, it’s a bit steep here and all”.

✧ When you sit together at the fireside, he may get flustered but he absolutely loves it when you lay your head upon his shoulder.

✧ He also favors being little spoon, not that he would necessarily tell you that out loud, but you can feel the way he relaxes, hums in contentment against you.

✧ Bilbo gets surprisingly protective, though, shifting you behind him or moving you aside by your waist when danger strikes.

[rainbowcaleb]

If you need a goofy little fic distraction right now, here is 1.2k short and sweet words about surprises, costumes, Jester, Fjord, Beau, boats, bagels, baguettes, buns, breads and more 💙🍞

(Read and comment on ao3)

“Jester, this is an awful lot of bread.” Fjord pushes past the two heavy bags by the door, their canvas sides obscuring what’s inside but the heads of the baguettes peeking from the top are clue enough.

“Hellooo, I'm in the kitchen!”

He can hear her voice despite the well padded room muffling the sound; Jester’s skill at projection is the stuff of legend. He side steps another crate that smells suspiciously like yeast and a large sunflower patterned tote bag of buns as he gingerly makes his way through their house. “Beau is with me, she says she ‘has the stuff’ . Should I be worried?”

Beau’s sigh is audible even though Fjord doesn’t have eyes on her in this carbohydrate jungle. “What part of ‘need to know’ escapes you?”

“Kneed to know!” They’re close enough to the kitchen now that Jester pokes her head out of the doorframe giggling. “That’s a good one, Beau.” Miraculously there’s nary a crumb on Jester’s all-black lace outfit, incongruous to the room behind her piled high with crusty rustic loaves.

Fjord has experience in how to navigate this. “Wow, don’t you look lovely today, also, if you could perhaps tell me what is going on—”

“Can you hold out your arms?” Jester steps towards him and lifts her arms straight, a strange mimic of a hug as if one has never done it before.

Fjord does so, but continues his gentle prod. “My love, would it be okay if I grabbed a snack? It looks like we have plenty extra.”

“Whoa, your wingspan is so wide.” Jester looks at Beau. “You think you brought enough?”

Beau gives Fjord an appraising look. “You working on your traps and lats? Some pre-wedding routine? Looking good.” She grins at Jester. “Yeah, I have enough.”

“Absolutely not!” Jester rounds back on Fjord, taking advantage of his raised arms to wrap her own around his waist. “The bread isn’t for you. It’s not really for me either. It’s the theme , Fjord.”

Fjord knows if he doesn't or if he does asks it's a trap either way, but it’s a risk he must take. “Someone want to clue me in?”

“Fuck man, did you forget?” Beau laughs then covers her mouth to hide it. “He’s all yours, Jester.”

“Should I pre-apologize?” Fjord glances over Jester’s head at Beau. She shrugs but there’s a glint to her eye he doesn’t like.

“It’s fine , like totally, I know you’ve been super busy this week finishing up the whole ‘buying another ship for the fleet and hiring a crew thing’ but you really should look at a calendar once in a while.” She squeezes his middle then quickly shoves her hands under his shirt. Jester tickles like it's her mission to seek, destroy, and cause the most giggles.

“Mercy!” Fjord laughs. “I concede! Do I need to wave a white flag above my head?”

“Depends, are your undies white today, and can you take 'em off and wave those?” Jester pats his stomach and pulls her hands back out with a smile.

“Absolutely do not forget I am in the room right now.” Beau speaks from behind the safety of her hands shielding her eyes.

“Pbbfft, you’re no fun.” Jester sticks out her tongue but does take a step back. “It’s the costume party today! The neighborhood contest? All the kids are going to be stopping by for treats ‘cause I’m trying to bribe them to vote for us?”

“Oh.” Fjord inhales; some part of him knew it is today and that part of the chaos of this week had been decorating every surface with fall leaves, gourds of all sizes and painted face persuasions, and Jester’s insistence of sampling a strange but bountiful variety of baked goods. He knows it doesn’t look good that he forgot, but to be fair his makeshift panel for hiring new crew had included Marius for ‘reading people to see if they’re the right fit’— whatever he meant by that– and Kingsley who in their words ‘think the newbies need a bit of a test first’ which Fjord learned the hard way was just skirting the lacey edge of unethical. He is feeling exhausted after a week of too much peopleing and too little fire extinguishers on board a wooden ship.

“The party is tonight.” He says simply.

“And you, my lovely to-be, are just in time for the costume fitting. Have you been practicing your bat screech?”

“Ah.” It all comes back to him in a buttered bread scented rush. The half-conversation he heard Jester and Reani having. The craft night with Veth and Yasha. The suspiciously full bag Beau is currently carrying. “I’m not good at animal voices the same way I am with accents.” Fjord tries to shrug like he isn’t afraid of what is in store.

Jester sighs. “Just promise me you’ll do your best. I heard the best themed house on the street gets free cinnamon crunch rolls for a month .”

“Darling, my love, we are surrounded by rolls right now.”

“And that’s for the bribe! Keep up!” Jester smacks his arm lightly.

“Yeah, keep up, Captain.”

Fjord sends a lukewarm glare Beau’s way but he is intelligent enough to know when the battle is lost. He has to keep his eyes ahead on the war.

“Are our friends joining us?”

Jester takes the bag from Beau’s arms. “Duh, of course! Caleb is helping Reani teleport over and she’s bringing the headbands. Veth says she’s gonna try and get Luc to be a baby bat but he’s been really teenagery this week so who knows. Yasha and Caduceus picked up their costumes this morning so I bet they’ll be here any minute!”

“Do you need me to run out and get anything?” Fjord eyes the distant door, half-walled off by baked fences.

“Nope!” Jester pops the ‘p’ with her mouth. “Just put on the sexy bat costume and we can start the night with a bang!”

“I am right here. ” Beau repeats.

“Surely Beauregard, you’d want to be the sexy bat instead? Yasha would love to see you…” Fjord tries to think but it’s like the flour has seeped into his brain. “Flap around sexily?”

“I don’t need any help there.” Beau flexes and sends a wink to Jester. “No, this bat costume is made. Just. For. You.” She pokes his arm with each word like deflating a balloon with a barb.

“Captain Tusktooth, won’t you do it for me?” Jester’s voice lilts up and Fjord knows what he will see when he meets her eyes. Glossy, round, perhaps a little magically enhanced to be utterly convincing, but that may just be Jester’s natural charm.

“Just for tonight?” His willpower is crumbling like the pastry crumbs below his boots.

“Yes!” Jester hugs him again. “Just for the party!”

“It’s only a couple hours?”

“Maybe like four or five or maybe six,” Fjord’s sudden cough sounds strangled. “It might go past midnight, but yes just for tonight! My sexy little flappy Fjordy bat, please do it for me.”

“For you, always yes.” He doesn’t have it in his heart to say no. Fjord can suffer the embarrassment for a few hours. He knows the smiles and laughing kisses from Jester will be worth it. Plus, who are they to pass up free cinnamon crunch buns for a whole month ?

[gravedigginbbydoll]

Hawkins University : The Munson Edition

AN: Hey y'all! I'm sorry for the brief hiatus, this past week has been insane. Working at a University is NOT FOR THE WEAK. I've been doing quite shit tbh (blame crazies and my job). Anyways, this chapter is a little sad (I'm so sorry, I swear there'll be comfort later). Anyways, I hope you enjoy! Also pls remember reblogs and comments are appreciated ! I love feedback!

→ cliches: friends to lovers, heavy use of nicknames instead of Y/N, we're all just struggling college kids, Music Tutor! Eddie, Resident Assistant! Reader, good girl x bad boy, instant connections, 'I don't trust most people but I trust you', 'are we friends or more?', and 'I can't believe you're such a slut that you have a special dtf drawer...'

→ warnings: mature topics, insecurity, hurt and comfort, drinking and drug usage, strong language, bullying, mental health, discussion of suicide and self harm, mature thoughts, eventual smut, minors dni

→ pairing: modern!college!eddie x college!fem!reader

<Previous Masterlist Next>

Chapter 6

Bugs POV 

It had been two weeks since your sleepover. You had found yourself staying over on weekends, you and Eddie falling into even more of a comfortability with one another. You both discussed everything under the sun, getting to know all the intricacies behind the other. You learned Eddie loved his tattoos and hated needles, how his family was really from nearby Hawkins but he often refused to go home due to his reputation in town. He let you know how he was the town pariah as an openly bisexual metalhead delinquent and how Hawkins was the first place he began to feel like himself. You learned he loved thrift stores and record shops, could live off of cereal and beer, and hated the smell of overly fruity vape juice (“If it fucking smells like a middle school girls locker room, why would you smoke it?”). You even learned that Eddie had a…reputation…on campus. You hadn’t heard about it until your American Government class, where the girl behind you (Christine?) had been giggling with her friends about the way the ‘punk guy who deals’ had fulfilled her ‘wildest dreams’. She went further into detail, but you tried to zone her out at that. 

Anyways, you decided to help Eddie out to face his fear of changing his major. Which led you here.

You were standing at the door of the Advising Office, Eddie fidgeting beside you. You could feel his anxiety rolling off of him in waves. Eddie was often an overthinker, but equipped at hiding it with putting on a show. He tended to not do so around you, though. You reached out gingerly, grabbing onto his elbow, the denim jacket he wore soft and worn from use against your hand. 

“Eds, it’ll be okay. I’ll be right here. I promise,” You softly whispered, eyes searching his face to try and get him to meet your gaze. 

His brown eyes met yours, full of worry as he gulped. He looked back towards the doors, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “I don’t know if I can do this, Bug. What if Wayne-” 

You cut him off with a light smack to his elbow, rolling your eyes playfully. “You specifically called Wayne to talk about this. I was there. He just wants you to be happy. I remember because you put him on speaker and I still could barely hear the man.”

Eddie sighed, nodding and huffing out a breath before he headed to the door, marching inside. You smiled, your heart squeezed softly in pride. Eddie had talked with you and leaned toward Music Therapy. He felt something tug him towards helping young kids through music, letting you in on a small bit of his own struggles. You were grateful and didn’t push, only being told that he had ‘gone through some mental distress’ last year, causing him to get put in inpatient for a bit, falling behind in classes. You recalled his face as he sat on his bed with you, strumming Sweetheart (his electric guitar) softly, voice shaky with emotion. 

“The only thing that called out to me was music. I just want to be there for people who feel the same way.”

You were snapped out of your thoughts as Eddie exited the office, face in a soft smile, eyes watery with tears. You rushed over, worry sinking in. 

“What happened? Is it too late to enter those classes? Eds, I-” 

“I filled out the application to switch over. She told me that it may take a few days, but because I was within the music department anyways, it wouldn’t be a difficult switch. I have to wait to take some of the courses, but I can drop my two Production courses without penalty,” He sighed softly, his tone full of relief as he looked down at you, blinking away tears before hastily pulling you into a hug. He squeezed you softly, mumbling thank yous into your hair, clear relief flooding into your system. Eddie was affectionate and loved touch, so you were glad he was feeling better. 

You squeezed back, heart soaring. 

Everything was going to be okay.

You stood in the local Rosa’s Costumes, the store filled to the brim with props and clothing. It was a favorite of the theater department at Hawkins and had been running for years. You and Eddie were among the clearly haunted prop items and section of the store that was for some reason themed as pirates. Eddie was perusing the hundreds of clothing and costumes on the aging racks, the familiar smell of Rosa’s incense wafting through the store. 

“I don’t think we should go as anything basic, because we are anything but,” Eddie stated cheekily, wiggling his brows over at you. 

You felt your stomach twist and turn as you plastered on a smile as best as you could. Eddie was referring to the Kappa Nu party that he had extended an invite to you to. You knew Eddie usually sold at parties and while it made you nervous (he had called you his favorite little square after you expressed concern), you were more anxious at the idea of being anywhere near the Kappa Nu house. You knew it boasted the hottest girls in Hawkins and it would be packed tight with bodies on Halloween night. 

You originally had a plan of doing what you always did with Eddie: renting a lot of campy horror movies and cuddling on the couch while drinking and Eddie would smoke, the two of you laughing at the practical effects. And then maybe after you’d head into town to see the local Ghost Walk that occasionally came through detailing all the spooky haunted places in town with an over the top narrator. 

But Eddie had burst into your study period at the library with Nancy, excitedly telling you about his success in his new courses and his ability to catch up. He called for a celebration as Nancy laughed and bid the two of you goodbye to head into work. Then he told you about getting an invitation to Kappa Nu, his eyes twinkling with excitement. And honestly…

How could you have said no to that face? 

So now you were here, in a theater kids wet dream of a store, thumbing through costumes to try and stumble upon an idea. Eddie was zipping up and down aisles, a pep in his step. He was recently more animated and less stressed, the clear joy from his new classes clear as day. It warmed your heart. 

Eddie grabbed your hand, walking briskly toward an aisle before turning to grin that megawatt smile at you. “I think I just had the perfect idea,” He gushed, turning back around to lead you with determination, clearly on a mission. 

You felt your heart race and face heat up as tingles ran up and down your arms. Eddie was unaware but your crush was carving and worming it’s way deeper into your heart, the affliction becoming harder to ignore. You tried to tell yourself that it was better this way, Eddie being too good of a friend to pass up. But every hug, every cuddle, and every warm cheek kiss led to more and more of an entanglement, your mind at war with your heart. 

Even Robin began to notice. You told her there was no way he would like you back, what with being Eddie, but she wouldn’t hear your excuses. She stated that it was clear that the two of you were ‘dumbass lovesick puppies’ who ‘couldn’t read the room worth shit’. You had finished the conversation at that, seeing a resident come up to the desk, and the last thing you needed was your hall gossiping about your romantic life or lack thereof. 

You were snapped out of your thoughts when Eddie let go of your hand, grabbing for a ridiculously large leather jacket with a huge collar, clearly meant as a biker or greaser costume. You cocked your head at Eddie, eyebrows furrowed while you fought back a smile. 

“What are you doing with that thing?” 

“We can go as The Driller Killer and an 80’s girl! From Slumber Party Massacre 2!,” Eddie said excitedly, his dimples appearing as his grin grew. 

You laughed a bit, shaking your head with a smile. Eddie would pick the campy serial killer who was based off of a greaser and had an electric guitar with a murdering drill on the neck. It was perfect. 

“Sure, why not?,” You laughed a bit as Eddie grabbed your hand immediately to drag you off in search of the other pieces. 

Maybe the party wouldn’t be so bad. 

You were standing on the front lawn of the large white mansion, knees shaky as you felt your stomach churn. Suddenly your makeup felt stupid and your clothes too tight. You tugged on the jean shorts and blue cropped t-shirt you wore, your body feeling as though it burst into flames. Eddie grabbed your hand, squeezing it and giving you a soft smile. 

“It’ll be okay, Bug,” He said softly. 

You looked up at him, his hair coiffed carefully with the rest back in a bun, his large ridiculous leather jacket and tight jeans still looking like a dream on him. He wore the fake cutout prop of the guitar drill slung on his back and some fake blood splatter across the thing. Even in his campy get up, and laughable oversized leather collar, he looked adorable. You pinched your own leg discreetly, trying to curb the feelings. 

You nodded up at him, squeezing his hands and turning to face the house once again, walking toward it. Once you entered, you felt your senses become overwhelmed. You saw flashing lights and a million bodies stuffed within the house. The smell of weed and alcohol along with perfume, cologne, sweat, and sugar lingered in the air, making your head spin. You felt the bass of the music playing inside vibrate through the floor, traveling through your bones almost. You clung to Eddie, feeling as if you’d either vomit or faint if you let go. Eddie rubbed your hand softly, leading you deeper inside to the kitchen, the room’s island filled with various bottles and bar piled high with boxes and cans of soda, Twisted Teas, Trulys, White Claws, a large plastic tub of bright pink alcohol brimming with fruit. Eddie grabbed a cup with ice and a coke can and the Jack Daniels bottle, quickly mixing up a Jack and Coke for you. He handed you the cup, your fingers brushing as you grabbed the sticky red plastic. Your heart sped up as your whole body felt a burst of heat and electricity. You tried to brush it off. 

“Thanks, Ed,” You shouted over the music as he nodded softly at you, a smile on his lips. 

You took a sip, determined to let loose and forget this impending tornado of feelings swirling in you. You could be calm. You could let go. 

Eddie grabbed himself a beer, smiling at you and pointing to turn your attention towards Robin and Steve, the two clearly already intoxicated. They were dressed like Doc Brown and Marty, Robin amusingly dressed as the doctor (though she had removed the wig and was twirling it in the air it seemed) and Steve dressed as Marty, puffer jacket and all. You laughed, waving at them. Robin waved, and elbowed Steve to wave back. 

Jonathan and Argyle appeared then, dressed as Cheech and Chong. Jonathan smiled at Eddie as Argyle nodded at the two of you. 

“Killer costumes, dudes. No one appreciates campy horror these days,” He mused, taking a sip of his soda. 

Jonathan furrowed his brows and shook his head, clearly not as aware of the reference to your costumes as Argyle. He was about to open his mouth when Steve and Robin came up. Steve slung his arm around Jonathan’s shoulder while holding his half empty cup in the other hand, grinning. 

“Wassup guys? I- I had a little too mu-much,” Steve hiccuped, grinning. 

You laughed softly, covering your mouth with your hand. Steve could be a bit of a worrywart and mother hen, so it was nice to see him let loose on these occasions. 

“Hey-hey….psst….Roomie!,” Steve frantically whispered to Eddie, causing Eddie to grin a bit. 

“Yes, roomie?,” Eddie teased, clearly keeping a mental note of the interaction to tease Steve for later. 

“I- I saw that hot girl you’ve been see-ing a bi-bit…here…She was over t-there,” Steve slurred, lifting a weak finger to point behind you. 

You felt your stomach churn. Eddie had been seeing someone? You knew he hooked up with plenty of people before but had put a pause on it for a bit. You looked up to Eddie out of the corner of your eye, seeing his face pale a bit as he faked a laugh, eyes guarded as he tried to change the subject. Was he hiding a girl from you? Something serious? Your heart raced as you felt as though a thorned vine wrapped around it, squeezing and puncturing it, your mind going through every scenario. 

While lost in your thoughts, Steve lost his footing and slipped from Jonathan's grip, losing his hold on his drink. The bright pink liquid mostly splattering on your shirt, making you come to your senses while also feeling anxiety bubble up and tears sting the back of your eyes,. 

“Oh-Oh Bu-bug I’m soo sorry, I-,” Steve blubbered, eyes wide in panic as he looked at you and you felt your walls come up. You needed to get out of here. 

“It’s okay. I’m just gonna go clean up,” You said softly to the group, eyes with a blank stare as you pushed through the crowd to go upstairs. 

You happened upon a miraculously empty bathroom, entering and wetting a towel while dabbing at the bright blue shirt, actions getting more frantic as your vision began to blur. You began to feel your hands shake as you sobbed softly, 

You were a fool. 

Girls like you didn’t get Eddie Munson. Girls like you didn’t get dates, period.  You studied and worked snitchy jobs and lost sleep over not pleasing people. You avoided new things and never stepped out of your comfort zone. You pinpointed every flaw in the mirror until it was all you could see. Boys like Eddie Munson knew nothing but kindness and courage, building a thick skin, and women pinning and giggling after them. Eddie Munson knew adventures and spontaneity, he knew dates with people and sudden hookups. Hell, he knew sorority girls. 

You leaned over the bathroom counter, the sobs wracking your body now as you lost control. You felt your insides twist and turn and pull. You were a lost cause. You couldn’t lose your friendship, but you felt the feelings pouring out of your skin and bones, shattering your insides. 

You sobbed more, scratching your throat raw, your whole body aching with pain. 

It hurt. Knowing you were not enough. 

You should’ve known it was coming, as it did always, but you felt it so deeply now that you wouldn’t soon forget. 

You sobbed until there were no more tears left, hands gripping the counter as you looked up to assess the damage. Your bright blue eyeshadow and liner were now muddy splotches on your face, swirling colors. You sighed, wetting the towel again, going to scrub off the evidence, your heart sinking. 

You’d have to put walls up. You wouldn’t give up Eddie. Just…be more realistic. 

You scrubbed until your face was rubbed raw and felt warm from all the friction of the scratchy guest bathroom towel, your mind and heart too fresh with pain to consider the germs. You splashed some water on your face before beginning to head down, 

You headed down the stairs when you spotted it in the dark corner of the crowded room.

Eddie. And a petite blonde.

She was giggling at something he said as they talked, her hand on his arm. She was dressed as a cheerleader, the costume clearly a real uniform from her days in high school. Eddie was speaking animatedly with her, clearly unaware of your current state. 

You raced down the stairs, dodging bodies as you zoomed past Argyle, barely hearing him call out as you rushed out the building, heading outside to the cold and lonely air. 

Fuck Halloween.

Taglist: @josephquinnsfreckles @corrodedcoffincumslut @kirisuteg0men @bebe07011 @amira0303 @vintagehellfire @lottie-90

[talesoftheesun]

I um... tripped! [O.G.]

pairing: ominis gaunt x slytherin!reader (gender neutral)

genre: fluff, slight angst, idk??

warnings: mention of blood. ominis might spontaneously go gray. can be read platonically, kind of. also english is not my first language and i wrote this while high on sleep deprivation lol

word count: 862

a/n: hi!! this is my first hogwarts legacy fic. i've written before here and there but it's been a long time lol. i hope you guys enjoy!

prompt: "they do a poor job of hiding the damage"

summary: you're out doing keeper stuff, ominis is concerned.

Stumbling through the common room doors, you cling to the wall like a lifeline. The winding of the stairs makes you feel even worse. As you near the bottom of the stairs, you strain your ears trying to figure out if anyone was still awake. Silence. You relax a bit as you continue to limp down the stairs. 

You should've known better. 

As soon as you make it all the way down, that ever-concerned voice speaks up, "And where in Merlin's name have you been?" 

“Bloody hell Ominis, how many times do I have to ask you to stop doing that?!” You clutch your heart. He turns his head in your direction, deadpan look on his face. “I wouldn’t have to if you’d stop coming back so late every bloody day.” 

You grumble, “You know I have keeper stuff to do.” Ominis can’t stop the sigh from escaping. “Yes, I’m aware of that, but do you have to keep doing it in the middle of the night?” 

Unbeknownst to him, you’re swaying on your feet, “Can we not do this right now, please, I just want to go to bed.” You don't wait for a response. Knowing full well he’d pop a vein if he knew of your current condition, you try to make as little noise as possible as you move in the direction of your room. 

Ominis scoffs and jumps up from where he was sitting on the chesterfield so fast, you’d think someone just slapped him. “No, we are doing this now!” He makes his way over to you in just a few strides, “You’re never around long enough during the day for us to have this conversation then! Do you have any id—” He freezes up at the sound of a loud thud.

Frantically waving his wand around, he finally finds you, on the floor. “Wha— Are you okay?” 

Any other day, in any other situation, you’d have laughed at how big his eyes have gotten since the start of your… conversation. Right now however, you were too preoccupied with keeping your pain hidden from him. You cough, “Yeah, I’m fine, I um… tripped! Over uh… Violet’s shoe..?” Mentally beating yourself up over how bad of an excuse that was.

“Right…” He holds his left hand out for you to grab, “Come on then.” 

Too preoccupied with keeping your labored breaths down, you don't notice his hand until he hisses your name. “Oh. Sorry,” you gingerly grab his hand. 

Now, Ominis wouldn’t describe himself as strong, he can’t exactly participate in sports given his lack of sight. But the blood-curdling scream you let out as he pulled you up, would make anyone think he just ripped your body apart.

Feeling your weight drop back down, he quickly wraps his arms around you to catch you. “What’s wrong?! Did I hurt you? Wait— Did someone hurt you out there?!” Eyes darting around, as if trying to find the damage.

Still trying to catch your breath, you can only groan in response. He strokes your hair as he carefully walks you back towards the couch. Repeating apologies like a prayer. He pulls you onto his lap, not sure whether he should be careful and hold you like a porcelain doll, or to pull you closer and hold on for dear life. When he feels you lean into him, he settles on the latter. 

"I'm sorry," by now he's realized that the iron smell of blood he got a waft of earlier wasn't the blood of your enemies, it was yours. "I'm so, so sorry."

Finally able to breathe easier now, you wrap your arms around his torso. "It's not your fault. Please don't beat yourself up about it."

"Why didn't you tell me?" He frowns, tears brimming his eyes. "And why didn't you take a wiggenweld potion?"

You sigh, "Well, I knew you'd be upset with me and... I ran out at some point." Looking down in shame.

"You're damn right I'd be upset," he huffs, "But I'd at least wait until after you're okay to lecture you." Realizing how silly you’d been acting, you mumble an apology into his neck.

"What? I didn't quite catch that." He fails to fight the smirk threatening to break out. You roll your eyes, but give in anyway, "I said, you're right and I'm sorry."

"Hmm no, still didn't catch that."

Exasperated now, you huff, "You're right and I'm wrong.” Finally satisfied, he allows the smile on his face to grow even more. "Now will you help patch me up?"

He winces, "Not sure how you could forget darling, but I'm horrible at potions, I don't have any wiggenweld potions for you." You groan, "Ugh right. Then can you just hold me until you can get Sebastian to get some for me?" 

“Of course,” Shifting your bodies so you’re both laying down on the couch, you on top of his chest, he summons the blanket resting on the other couch to drape over you. "Now, get some rest."

As you settle into the warmth of his body, you drift off to sleep. The last thing you feel is his lips on your forehead.

[bitbybitwrites]

7. We're going to Fire Island. It's like gay Disney World. (Fire Island, 2022)

Glee (but open to RWRB if you’re more inspired that way!)

My apologies for the delay! Took me a bit to finish this one - because it kind of exploded into something longer than a ficlet!

Thanks again to @tailsbeth-writes for all the Ficlet Friday posts!

It can also be read on A03 here.

Enjoy!

****

Fire Island Follies

“I don’t know if this is a good idea, San.”

Santana looked over at her friend and smirked.  “Lookin’ a little green about the gills, Hobbit.  You ok?”

Blaine took a deep breath and closed his eyes as he clutched his duffle bag close to his chest.  The ferry was going through choppy water, and his stomach wasn't faring well at all.  No one could blame him; Blaine was from central Ohio and hadn't had much experience being on the open ocean.

He opened his mouth to respond, but unfortunately, at that moment, the boat hit a particularly large wave.   The sea vessel bounced so much that Blaine snapped his mouth shut quickly, clapping one hand over it.  Santana swore he looked even paler than he had a minute ago.

“Don’t you dare hurl on me, Anderson.  I will kill you if you ruin these shoes.”

A young couple and their kid moved away from where Blaine and Santana were sitting, looking at the seasick young man warily.  Blaine gave them a weak smile and wave as he peered down at Santana's open-toe espadrilles.

“Fancy footwear for the beach, don’t you think?”

Santana snorted as she wiggled her Burberry-clad foot at Blaine.  "I gots to look good for my sweetie.” She leaned over and poked him in the side.  He squawked and batted her hand away with a pout.  “Can you just give me a smile for once and not look like I’m dragging you to your death.” Santana pleaded.

The boat hit another wave and bounced up and down again.  “I feel like death,” Blaine said through gritted teeth. "Just kill me now."

“Oh, perk up, sunshine.  We're going to Fire Island.  It's like gay Disney World."

****

Blaine was grateful once the ferry finally docked, a vomit-free voyage, thankfully.   He gingerly followed Santana out onto the dock, breathing deeply through his nose as he willed for the ground to stop swaying.  They both wove in and out of the throng of visitors to the island, searching for. . .

“Tana!” an excited voice squealed.

Blaine stepped aside just in time as a blur of blond hair and bright color whizzed by him, only to launch themselves into Santana's arms.  Santana laughed as she caught a young woman in her embrace, swinging her about and then carefully placing her on the ground, kissing her gently.

“Hi, cariño," Santana said softly.  "Miss me?"

The other woman giggled and nodded.  "So much."  She turned and regarded Blaine with a questioning look.  "I'm sorry, and you are?"

“Um, Blaine.  Blaine Anderson.  I, um . . . I’m Santana’s friend.”

The blond grinned and leaned over to deposit a peek on Blaine's cheek.  She placed a small, brightly rainbow-colored string of beads around his neck.  "Oh yeah, Tana said you might come.  I'm glad you did!  Happy Pride!"

*****

Blaine sighed as he sat on the deck, looking out towards the sunrise.  It was gorgeous view, and Blaine would have thanked anyone who would listen for this brief respite of peace and quiet.  There was a whirlwind of activity once Brittany led them back to the house where they would all be staying for the week.  He had wandered outside earlier for with a book ( and thankfully his noise-canceling headphones) while Santana and Brittany celebrated their reunion very thoroughly and . . . loudly.

"You know, it's hard making out over Skype.  You really can't scissor a webcam." Brittany had confided to Blaine in a stage whisper earlier.  "I'm so glad to see her again since I'm working out here all summer."

Blaine had just smiled and nodded.  He was slowly getting used to Brittany’s. . . rather quirky personality.  She was one of the main reasons Santana dragged him onto this trip.  Brittany’s latest job was as a waitress and sometimes backup singer and dancer for the Fire Island Follies.

****

“You are coming with me, short stuff.  I will not accept no for an answer.” Santana had threatened a week before.  “My lady is out there. I miss her, and I think you would have a really good time.  Come on.  You're hot.  I'm hot.  The island will be overflowing with other gorgeous gays you could hook up with.  Live a little.  You might dress like a grandpa sometimes, but it doesn't mean you have to live like one."

****

The door to the rental home slammed shut as Brittany skipped outside, adorned in a rainbow tulle skirt and bikini top.  An intricate collar of rainbow beads lay aginst her neck while her body shone with glitter even in the setting sunlight.  A tiara of multicolored rhinestones peeked out from the top of her head as well.  "Are you ready?" she asked excitedly.  "Tana will lock up and meet us there.  She told me to bring you on ahead early.   We could use your help to set up if you're for it."

Blaine looked down at himself.  “Are you sure this is ok?”  He nervously looked at the sparkly black mesh tank top and teeny green shorts that Santana had thrown at him when he stepped out of the shower.

Brittany’s blond head cocked to the side, and she considered for a moment.  "As long as you're comfortable.  I think you're fine." She said with a grin.  "At least it's not the underwear party.  That's only for the guys, and I have a feeling you wouldn't be ok just running around in a jockstrap or speedo all night."

She dug into a pouch at her waist and fished out a small tube of rainbow body glitter.  Squeezing some on her fingertips, she rubbed it on Blaine’s cheekbones, smiling at the finished look.

“Perfect.”

*****

Cheerios was definitely not what Blaine had expected, either. 

First, the nightclub/cabaret space was run by a former drill sergeant wearing a black tracksuit (with appropriately rainbow stripes up and down the arms) named Miss Sue.  Secondly, it was probably the most rainbow-themed place he'd ever been to.  Colored arches adorned the walls, the floors, the cushions on the bar stools and seats, and even the cocktail napkins.  The staff wore tight, tiny rainbow-themed uniforms, some looking like cheerleaders or football players.  (Well, that could explain the name of the place)  As far as he could see, there were lots of skin, crop tops, booty shorts, and so much body glitter.

And the doors hadn’t opened yet for the public.

The aforementioned drill sergeant was holding court by the DJ station at the back of the club when Brittany and Blaine entered.  She brandished a clipboard and barked out loud via a megaphone she brandished in her other hand: "Porcelain, you're up next!  White Chocolate, you shake your booty after.  Then Starchild, we'll run through yours again if you want."

A chorus of “Yes, Miss Sue.” from across the bar soon followed.

Brittany squealed as she dragged Blaine over to the bar.  “Oooh, we get to see a couple of the new numbers before we open the doors." She shoved Blaine onto a cushy, multi-colored stool before she took off backstage.  "Stay here.  Gotta go see if anyone needs help backstage.”

Before Blaine could protest, she was gone.

Fiddling with the hem of his tank top, Blaine looked around nervously. He couldn't help but feel like he was intruding.

“Porcelain, Starchild, White Chocolate . . who are they?” he wondered aloud.

"Well, me, for one."

Blaine swiveled around on his bar stool to find a ridiculously good-looking guy in the tiniest gold booty shorts that he had ever seen staring back at him.

“I . . .I'm sorry . . . wh. . .what?" 

The bartender tossed a rainbow-colored bar towel over his shoulder and plunked down a glass of water in front of Blaine.  “White Chocolate.  That’s me, I’m saying.”

“That’s . . a, uh. .  . .a nice name . .”

The blond grinned, the body glitter shining very noticeably off his abs. 

Blaine seriously tried not to stare.

He did.

"Stage name," the bartender confided to Blaine.  "Used to have a partner called Dark Chocolate I worked with, but he went off and got him a boyfriend who didn't like him writhing on stage with little ole me.  Jake came up with the names.  He said we were both smooth and sweet, and it kind of worked cause he was, well, you know, African American and I'm . . ." he gestured again toward his glitter-encrusted abs.

Blaine swallowed and really didn’t stare.

Really.

He really, really didn’t.

“That’s . . . interesting . . .”

The glittering golden god laughed as he leaned over the bar. "I'm Sam," he said, extending a handout. I saw you came in with Brit. Are you a friend of hers?"

Blaine nodded, grabbed the water, and took a large gulp.  "Well, more like friends with her girlfriend, Santana."

Sam grinned.  "Aww, that's great.  I haven't seen Santana in a while.  She coming later?”

As Blaine nodded, the lights in the room suddenly dimmed, and a low, sultry bass line began to be piped in through the speakers of the club.  All of the workers stopped what they were doing to focus their attention on the main stage.  A spotlight held tight on a solitary figure who faced away from the audience.  The person held their hand up, and as they snapped their fingers along with the music, the spotlight pulled back slightly, revealing a luxurious black velvet robe. 

Blaine’s jaw dropped as the person began to sing: sultry and beckoning, their hands skimming their hips, which swayed hypnotically along with the music.

*****

Never know how much I love you

Never know how much I care

When you put your arms around me

I get a fever that's so hard to bear

You give me fever. . .

The performer turned his head, revealing a strikingly handsome face and piercing blue eyes.  The man smirked as he noticed Blaine, watching awestruck.  The singer rolled his shoulder, allowing the velvet robe to bare one beautiful shoulder as he winked saucily at Blaine.

Sam leaned over the bar, whispering smugly.  "And that, my good sir, is Porcelain, one of our other headliners."

“He’s beautiful, “ Blaine murmured softly as he continued to watch the other man own the stage, dropping the robe on a particular beat of the song to reveal some tiny black leather shorts and a delicate body harness of crisscrossing silver chains attached to a heaver silver chain collar.  With every shoulder roll and hip gyration, Blaine could see those chains softly caress the man’s toned abdomen.  The leather shorts made it very apparent that Porcelain was not lacking at all in . . . endowments.

Blaine had never been so jealous of an outfit before in his life.  He was absolutely entranced by this siren before him.

The devastatingly gorgeous dancer continued to sing:

*****

Captain Smith and Pocahontas

Had a very mad affair

When her daddy tried to kill him

She said, "Daddy, oh, don't you dare."

He gives me fever

With his kisses, fever when he holds me tight

Fever!  I'm his missus, daddy, won't you treat him right?

"Would you like to meet him?" Sam asked quietly.  "I'm sure Brit or I can introduce you if you want."

Blaine was now at a loss for words, just nodding mutely while his heart raced.  Porcelain had danced his way to a stripper pole to one side of the stage, spinning around it a few times before leaning backward and arching his back as he eased off his leather shorts, not missing a beat while he did so.

And Porcelain was looking and singing directly to Blaine as those shorts fell away.

*****

Now you've listened to my story

Here's the point that I have made

Boys were born to give you fever

Be it Fahrenheit or Centigrade

That’s it. 

Blaine was now officially dead.

Porcelain had a rhinestone-encrusted thong underneath those tiny shorts. As Blaine watched, the dancer kept singing while trailing his own fingers over his body, grazing his nipples, floating over his arms, down the arch of his neck.

*****

They give you fever

When you kiss them, fever if you live and learn

Fever!  'Til you sizzle

What a lovely way to burn . . .

Without warning, the audio track Porcelain was performing began to moan and speed up, rewinding and fast-forwarding erratically, breaking the hypnotic spell of the performance. Porcelain stopped all movements and stared out towards the DJ booth in confusion as the lights abruptly came up in the club.

“What the fuck?” Miss Sue bellowed.  “Someone get Zizes on the phone.  I don't care where she is or what she's doing.  Of all the goddamn times she decided to go on vacation, of course, it had to be today.  We need this shit fixed now.  We open in a few hours.”

Porcelain sighed as he retrieved his discarded clothing, slipping the velvet robe on and quickly disappearing backstage. 

Miss Sue stalked towards the bar, slamming her clipboard and megaphone on its surface.  She gripped the edge of the rainbow-patterned counter tightly,  so much so that Blaine could see her knuckles whiten even from his position a few stools farther down.

Without a beat, Sam quickly reached into a fridge under the bar and pulled out a large, ominous-looking black Stanley mug, passing it over to the club owner without a word.  Miss Sue took a giant slug of what was inside, a ferocious scowl darkening her features.

Many of the employees skittered away quickly to avoid her impending blow-up.

“Miss Sue,” Sam tentatively said as he cleared his throat.  “I, uh, I hate to be the bearer of more bad news . . .”

"What. Is. It. Now. . . " the cabaret owner growled.

"Sebastian won't be able to make it in tonight or for the rest of the week, actually," Sam quickly informed her.

“Where the hell is Sporty Spice gone to this time?  I need him and his goddamn lacrosse stick to work during the intermission.”

"Seb's found another Sugar Daddy, and he's taking full advantage," another voice chimed in.

Blaine spun around in his stool, only to find himself face to face with Porcelain.  Now out of his stage costume, the man was wearing sinfully low-rise, skin-tight jeans as well as a soft, light blue hoodie that was unzipped to reveal he was shirtless underneath.  Porcelain was sporting a set of toned abdominal muscles that Blaine wanted to reach out and touch.

"Last I heard, he was bragging last night that his new man was taking him to some mansion in the Hamptons for a week of fucking and all manner of excessive indulgence.  Clothing free."  Porcelain rolled his eyes as he accepted a glass of ice water from Sam.  "I'm not surprised he bailed on us today."

Sam frowned.  “But how the hell are we going to put on the follies tonight if we’re having technical difficulties?” he asked.  “I can do body rolls all night if you need me to, but it’s going to be odd with no music playing in the background.”

“Do we cancel?” Kurt asked Sue.

“We have never canceled a performance of the Fire Island Follies," Miss Sue shouted.  “It is not going to happen.  Not on my watch.”

Blaine swallowed.  He couldn’t believe he was going to do this.

“I . . . I could help.”

Miss Sue turned her sharp gaze at Blaine.  “Who the hell are you?” she barked.  "How the hell did you get in here anyway?"

"Blaine.  Blaine Anderson."  Blaine held out his hand to Miss Sue, who stared at it like the abhorrent item she felt it was.  He dropped it quickly and tried to smile reassuringly.

He wasn’t sure if it was working.

“He’s a friend of Brittany’s . .  .and Santana's." Sam piped up.

Sue sniffed, still not entirely impressed.

"And how can you help?" Porcelain asked as he trained a critical eye on Blaine, obviously just as skeptical of the newcomer as Miss Sue was.

“Can you play music?  Sing?” Miss Sue demanded.

“Y . .yes," Blaine stuttered.  "I can do both, actually, piano and guitar. It's what I do in Manhattan, actually.  It's my . . .my day job. Mostly gigs at The Duplex and Don't Tell Mama's."

“How long are you on the island for?” Sue continued her interrogation.

“Just the week,” Blaine reassured the club owner.

Sue stared at Blaine for a while; he couldn't say how long.  But the uncomfortable silence that stretched out while he found himself looked up and down seemed to go on forever.

“Up.” she barked at him finally.

Blaine slid off his stool while throwing both Sam and Porcelain confused glances.

“Turn.” she then ordered.

He did and then waited through another long silent patch from Sue as she made her deliberation:

“Hot Pocket,” Miss Sue ordered as she pinned him in place with a stare that quite honestly gave Blaine the chills.  “You’ll do.  You are to get your ass on stage and see what you can do with what instruments we have on hand.  Porcelain, work on your number first.  I want you to Fabulous Baker Boys the shit out of the song, you understand?”

"Yes, Miss Sue," the dancer nodded. He turned to Blaine, motioned towards the stage, and swiftly turned on his heel to walk towards it.

Blaine scrambled quickly after him.

“I’m Kurt, by the way," Porcelain informed Blaine softly as they walked out of earshot of the owner.  “You better be damn good, Blaine.  Or Sue will make you regret ever stepping foot in this club.”

“I am,” Blaine said, his heart racing.  “I am good.”

Kurt stopped in his tracks, turning quickly to face Blaine, who stopped moving as well.  A few quick steps and Kurt was mere inches away, his blue eyes darkening and staring at Blaine’s lips intensely.

“I like that.  Boys who are good for me.  Will you be good for me, Blaine?”

Blaine nodded, his breath caught in his chest.  It was dizzying being this close to Kurt now.  Blaine stared at the performer’s lips as well as they leaned in closer.

“I’ll see you backstage,” Kurt whispered with a smirk.  He turned quickly and sauntered up the steps of the main stage and through the curtain.

Blaine did not stare at Kurt’s ass as he left.

Oh, who the hell was Blaine kidding. 

He most certainly did.

****

NOTES:

I have a feeling that the actual Fire Island Follies is a men's only show . . but here in this fic, I wanted to include something for the ladies too - so Brittany's a performer as well.

Oh, and here in this fic, I kind of picture Sebastian doing a little lacrosse themed striptease act during their intermission of the show. Hence the "Sporty Spice" nickname. 😂

[namorslutfanfiction]

Tenoch plays with you in a room full of people and enjoys every minute of it.

I sweat all you anons are horny as hell

Summary: He bought you a new toy and really wanted to see how you could handle it. Who cares if this was an important dinner?

Dripping Smut

You were trying to keep your cool as you sat at the table. You nodded along to the conversation at hand, barely registering the words being spoken. Tenoch had his arm slung over the back of your chair and the other was hiding beneath the table, subtly swiping at his phone screen.

The dinner included some of the producers as well as directors involved with the diversity project you were both part of. It was a casual dinner with very important people. But you were focused on the toy between your legs, muffled by your underwear, that was buzzing away at the command of the Mexican actor next to you.

You nudged him with your elbow, as you answered a question that was posed to you. But that just made him turn up the intensity. You covered your moan with a coughing fit, which backfired a little as you clenched down. You covered your mouth and turned into Tenoch.

"Babe, are you okay? Drink some water," Tenoch feigned ignorance and concern, grabbing a glass of water from the table and encouraging you to take it.

You shot him a glare as you sipped the water. He had turned the intensity down for now but you knew he wasn't done playing with you, "Thank you, mi amor. I'm fine. Must be something in the air."

The dinner continued as usual, at least from the outside. Beneath the table you had a death grip on Tenoch's thigh, digging your nails into him whenever he flicked the toy to a higher setting. You were a puddle, quite literally from the dampness of your underwear. If you didn't do something, you would get your dress wet and that would be embarrassing enough without having to explain yourself.

"If you'll excuse me, I'm going to the restroom," You announced to the table, standing up gingerly while trying not to appear like a wobbling lamb. Tenoch smirked at you as he turned back to the table.

As you made your way across the bustling restaurant, Tenoch started turning the intensity up and down in a rhythmic pattern that made you stumble and catch yourself on an empty chair. One of the women from your table that had also excused herself to go to the restroom, rushed over to your side.

"Y/n, are you alright?" She asked, taking your arm and helping steady you. You glanced back at the table, waving everyone off with a smile. Tenoch was covering his laughter behind his fist.

"I'm fine, it might have been the 3 glasses of wine, or maybe these damn heels," You joked as you made your way to the restrooms with the woman.

Once in the bathroom you found the farthest stall. You sat on the toilet, muffling your moans as Tenoch put the toy through its paces. You covered your mouth with both hands as you came hard. You bit your hand to distract yourself from the pleasure while pulling your phone from your purse.

YN: I came already. Please turn it down.

The toy turned down in intensity almost immediately; now a low hum that you could barely feel after the overstimulation of your orgasm. Your phone chimed with a notification.

TH: Don't take it out. I'll let you rest for now. :)

Part of you was thrilled by this ridiculous display but also frustrated with how he had to choose tonight of all nights to play with you. Well if you were going to be frustrated so was he. You pulled your underwear down your legs and shoved it into your purse. You cleaned up the evidence of your arousal, hoping that a somewhat clean slate would protect you from ruining your dress. You contemplating taking the toy out and throwing it into your purse but you decided against it. He was right, it was thrilling to play so publicly.

Once your dress was righted you made your way back to the table. The woman you were with earlier had already found her seat again.

Tenoch greeted you, "There you are. I thought you fell in the toilet."

You smacked his shoulder lightly, "Oh shut up, you."

Once seated you set your purse down between you, covered by the high table. You engaged into the conversation while guiding Tenoch's hand to your purse and closing it around your damp underwear. You saw the corner of his mouth upturn, and his eyes darken as he glanced at you.

The night continued and it was a battle of wills. You had pulled Tenoch's hand between your legs. Barely touching your bare pussy. He had tried to play with the toy more, but the loss of your underwear made the buzzing noise a little too loud for him to risk turning up the intensity. Then the toy died and you felt triumphant. Under the table, as you continued to laugh and joke with your peers, you guided Tenoch's hand to remove the toy from your pussy.

The sensation of him removing it was enough to make you turn into his shoulder and feign laughter, as you forced back a moan. He dropped the toy into your purse and tried to reach between your legs again, but you had snapped them shut, pulling your dress back down toward you knees. His eyes held a question but you just smirked at him, wiggling in the seat to get comfortable.

Tenoch said something to the table about how lucky he was to have you, taking your hand and kissing it. It didn't escape your notice that he sniffed at your joined hands, his being the one that had just been teasing between your legs. He pulled your hand into his lap, holding the back of it to rub against his crotch where you could feel his arousal.

Tenoch did not falter in his enthusiastic conversation with the table as he pressed your hand firmly against his crotch. It seemed that the actor was the one frustrated and needing some release. You smirked to yourself as you wriggled your hand out of his grip. His jaw clenched slightly as he relinquished his hold.

When the dinner finally died down and everyone went their separate ways, you found yourself sitting in Tenoch's passenger seat as he drove one handed. His free hand was between your thighs, thrusting his fingers into your wet pussy. You were moaning into your hand, as he easily and quickly drove you to orgasm.

When you got to a stop light, he pulled his hand away and turned to you with a charming and lascivious smirk. "Come here,"

He quickly undid his pants and released his hard on. His tip glistened with precum as you shifted and moved your head into his lap. Once you found a comfortable position you took his cock into your mouth. The actor held his hand to the back of your head guiding you as he continued driving.

"Fuck," Tenoch cursed under his breath as you devoured him. His hips thrusted lightly as you gave him road head. "If this is what happens when I tease you all night, I might have to do it more often."

You moaned around him in response then bared down deeper, feeling his tip hit the back of your throat. The actor let out a strangled moan at the sensation. You felt the car turn and Tenoch squeezed your shoulder. "Get up, baby."

You sat up and Tenoch lost no time as he shifted the car into park and pulled the parking break.

"Stay right there," He ordered as he pulled you in for a passionate and rough kiss. Before you could respond he was making his way to your passenger door and pulled it open. "Turn around for me."

You did as he said, seeing that he meant to take you here in the driveway. It excited you to learn that he was just as eager as you were. You felt him flip up the skirt of your dress, pulled your hips back and then thrust inside of you, balls deep. You let out a yelp at how suddenly he took you, but you were more than prepared for him.

You glanced back as he started to pound into you. He had his hands braced on the door frame as his hips moved furiously. You thanked god that your house was down a long driveway, and an acre in each direction to the nearest neighbor. The sounds of your hips slamming into each other was loud enough, coupled with both of your wanton moans of pleasure was practically a cacophony of eroticism.

Tenoch leaned forward and gripped your shoulders as he drove his hips into yours. You reached between your legs to rub at your clit, chasing the orgasm that was nudging at your peripheries.

"Tenoch," You moaned, turning back to him to watch his pleasured face. He had his head thrown back, his suit disheveled, and his eyes closed in ecstasy while keeping his punishing pace. He moaned your name as his movements grew more erratic. The sound of his voice tipped you over the edge and you felt your self clench down on him as the orgasm ripped through your body.

The guttural groan he released as he hit his peak with you was primal and deafening. The slapping of your hips as he spilled inside of you were like thunderclaps. Tenoch slowed to a stop, panting and leaning his head against the door frame of the car. You were equally out of breath, practically collapsed against the center console.

Tenoch pulled away from you and righted his clothes. He flipped your skirt back down and pulled you up into his arms. The actor cupped your face and kissed your cheeks as you looked up at him with a lazy and contented smile. The man chuckled as he gazed at you, "And you said it wouldn't be as fun as I said it would be."

You pushed your lip out in a pout, still unwilling to fully admit that he had made you submit to your lust for him. Tenoch just smiled his boyish smile and nipped at your lip. "Come on baby. Let's get you inside and cleaned up. You deserve a nice bath and a massage after playing along with me so nicely."

You let him lead you away from the car and toward the front door.

```

SO that was another fiery one. Yall are relentless.

[blueseachelle]

I would like so Scanlan x fem alchemist fluff. S/O wants Scanlan to be safer in fights. So in secret tries to make a lute that can double as a shield but she has to ask for his help when she can't tune it right.

I love this idea! Let's get to it! Might be a little short but, I'm getting back in the swing of things.

Protected

Scanlan X Fem! Alchemist! Reader

You were recruited into the group because you are a friend of Percy's. You grew up in the science and magic of the time and are a prodigy.

You've excelled in everything you have crafted and enchanted. Never once had to question if anything was ever working properly. You knew it will always work.

Percy and you have done many collaborations in the past and when he asked if you wanted in on some grandeur, you are never one to say no.

After traveling with the group for a while, You seem to have caught the eye of a certain Gnome. He was always around you somehow. He would be in your "lab" cracking jokes and messing up some potions you were making.

The only curse you have of being the way you are is the fact that you are shy. You did talk but, your emotions were a mystery to express and feel. The perks of always being in a library, right?

You slowly began to feel something for the gnome and expressed these feelings to your best friend, Percy, of course. Percy, who is also in the same boat, asked Keyleth in private the same thing you told him and figured out that you are gaining feelings for Scanlan.

Of course, after the conversation he had with Keyleth, she assumed that he had feeling for someone. (To save you face, he asked vague questions and now, people think he has feelings for someone.)

Percy told you his findings and you thought about them. You wanted to express these feelings somehow. Well, you couldn't do it through words because you are shy. Why not something you can observe that Scanlan needs?

Perfect! Now, you just have to figure out what.

A little bit of time and lots of observations went by and you figured out the perfect gift.

How about a lute that can protect him as a shield? Perfect!

After that, you started to lock your lab door. Scanlan started to worry about you because you always told him, along with everyone else, to go away. Hell, its been 3 days and no one knows if you ate or drank anything.

Scanlan was at his wit's end. He will get in that door and see if you are okay.

He walked to your door of the Keep. He stood there and took in a deep breath.

"Y/N. I know you have been telling everyone to leave but, I'm getting worried. WE are getting worried about you're health. So, please, just let me in. I need to see you."

It was silent in the hall until a TWANG noise responded from the other side of the door.

Scanlan knew that noise... It's a snapped string!

The door slowly opened. The light revealed the pure eyes of his love. Yes, he really liked her. Can't you tell?

Y/n opened the door fully. Her hands hide something behind her back.

Scanlan let out a breath of relief.

"Darling, you can't be doing this. Have you even eaten in these 3 days?"

The girl just blushed and looked down at him.

"U-um. I was busy with something important and.... I can't finish it."

Scanlan raised a brow.

"You are never known not to finish a project so, lets see it so we can get a different perspective on it together."

Her faced turned even redder,

"W-well. It's for you. But, I wanted to finish it first."

The gnome just smiled up at her,

"My love, I know it will be great. Finished or not."

She nodded and slowly revealed the concealed item.

It was a lute. A beautiful hand-carved lute. It had some symbols on it throughout the carved swirled pattern.

Scanlan gingerly took the lute. When his fingers touched it. It was like a small wave of magic moved across the face of the wood. He was speechless.

Y/n scratched the back of her head,

"Y-you see. I enchanted it to be able to double as a shield in battle. The unfinished part it that I can't tune it because... I'm not musically inclined enough to do it. I hand-carved it and enchanted it myself."

Scanlan looked up and locked eyes with her,

"I love it but, why would you do this for me? It took some much time and effort to make this for me... Why?"

Y/n just smiled,

"I want to protect the ones I love so, it was no big deal."

Scanlan just looked up at her again. He quickly jumped on the stool next to her and kissed her. After what felt like an eternity, they parted.

"I love you as well. So so much."

With that, Y/n sat next to him as he tuned his new lute.

Y/n and Scanlan started dating after this. He always kissed her throughout battle as a little thank you for protecting him. His lute, of course. She always smiled and giggled as they delt with the next problem they are asked to solve.

[thedeliverygod]

Repostober: Day 3

A fanfic that was supposed to be "post-pain" and an addition to an imagined happy ending. The manga has uh taken different turns than I imagined LOL but uhhh hopefully this still enjoyable! Not to mention the title is a bit ironic...

Like I'm Gonna Lose You

“I’m starting to wonder if my birthday party was even for me.” Yukine commented, his face partially hidden behind his palm as he rested his elbow on the table.

Hiyori let out an annoyed breath, answering, “I’m beginning to have my own doubts as well, Yukine-kun.”

“Of course it was for you, dummy.” Yato commented with a light tousle of the boy’s hair, “But you know Kofuku and Daikoku, they’ll use any excuse to party.”

“Just Kofuku-san and Daikoku-san?” Yukine looked up doubtfully.

“No, it’s definitely him too.” Hiiro added from Yukine’s other side.

“Hey!” He snapped back before giving a pout, “Why do you all have such a poor image of me?”

Yukine quirked an eyebrow before looking at Hiyori, “Shall we list the reasons?”

Yato made a choking noise before he waved his arms to stop them, “Okay, forget I asked.”

“So what’d you come back over here for, anyway? I thought you were too busy having fun with the other adults or whatever.” Yukine’s tone was grumpy as he looked to the older boy for an explanation.

“I came to check in on you.” He answered simply as he leaned against their booth seat.

Hiiro rolled her eyes, leaning forward and pressing, “And?”

“And what?” He repeated with a blink.

“I can tell when you’re not telling the whole truth, you know.” She tapped her fingers against the table.

Hiyori and Yukine looked between Hiiro and Yato in confusion as Yato sucked in an annoyed breath.

“Sometimes I really hate that you know me so well.”

Hiiro gave a knowing smirk and continued to wait for his answer.

“Well, I really didn’t want it to be this… blunt…” He turned his head and looked up towards the sky, sheepish, “But since Hiiro isn’t giving me a choice…” His eyes flickered back to the table and his voice grew quieter, “Hiyori, would you… dance with me?”

“W-what?” She blurted out in surprise, Yukine also echoing her wide eyed gaze.

“I thought it would be fun? And-and-and… Just… please?” He gave a flustered smile, holding out his hand.

The entire table remained silent for a moment before Hiyori hesitantly let out, “Okay…”

Hiiro slid out of the booth and stood off to the side, giving an intrigued look as she watched Hiyori gingerly take his hand.

As Yato moved Hiyori closer to the group of gods, the music quieted and he gave a forced laugh, “And it’s a slow song, so it’s not as awkward.”

“Um, I guess.” She nodded, watching her feet as she let him guide her. As they came to a stop, she only looked up once she heard his voice.

“So, uh,” He motioned towards her waist with his free hand, “Can I…?”

“Um, yes.” She answered, reaching out for his shoulder with hers, “And I’m supposed to do this?”

He nodded, “Yeah.”

As they began to sway slowly, Hiyori asked sheepishly, “So you really just wanted to dance?”

“Well, I kind of wanted to talk to you too. Alone.” He admitted, smiling softly.

“Ooo, Yato-chan and Hiyorin are dancing with each other!”

They heard Kofuku yell out but Daikoku had corralled her before they managed to look over in their direction.

“Though admittedly this may have not been the smartest choice.” Yato shifted so that they both turned away from the group again.

Hiyori shook her head, “Definitely not the most discreet one.” He flashed another smile before she asked, “So what did you want to talk about?”

“Oh.” He blinked, surprised at her question, “Uh, maybe saying I wanted to talk to you wasn’t the right way to put it. I wanted to spend time with you, just you.” His eyes flickered away, “I know I’ve been a little overbearing with Yukine lately, to say the least. So we haven’t had much time together as just us.”

She flushed and avoided his eyes as well, “I mean, it’s okay. Obviously I’ve been worried about Yukine-kun too.”

“I know. But still, I put you through a lot too. I… never really got to apologize for the way I left, for one.” He looked back to her but his face had fallen into a frown.

Hiyori looked back to him as well, thinking carefully of her response, “It did hurt, but I understand why you did it.”

“Even if you get why I did it, that doesn’t make it okay.” He tilted his head and looked at her more closely as they continued to sway. “I did really believe you wouldn’t forget me, but I’m sorry I sort of put everything on your shoulders. I didn’t want to leave without saying anything and at the time, I guess I just thought that…was the best way to say goodbye. To let you know how much you mean to me.”

Her grip grew tighter on his jersey and her eyes watered, “That was the problem though, you shouldn’t have been saying goodbye.”

Yato furrowed his brows in confusion, “What do you mean?”

“You should have stayed and let us work everything out together, Yato. Not run off to be the hero by sacrificing yourself.” Hiyori’s voice rose as she answered.

“That’s not—”

“It is!” She shot back, almost in a yell, “It’s exactly what you were doing! I know you didn’t want Yukine-kun or me to get hurt, but you should have known your father wouldn’t have just let us be. You should have known that I wasn’t going to just let you die .”

Their dancing stuttered as Yato froze, but after a moment he continued the motions. Taking a breath, he spoke again, “I’m sorry; for everything. I don’t really know what else to say.” Hearing her sniffling continue to get worse, he added, “Just please, don’t cry.”

“I was really scared I was going to lose you.” She slipped her hand out of his and wrapped her arms around him tightly, burying her face in his chest.

He cradled the back of her head and let himself sink into her as well, “I was scared I was gonna lose you, too.”

“So don’t leave me again.” She gripped the fabric of his jacket.

“I won’t.” He shook his head against her.

She inhaled before she quietly asked, “Do you promise?”

“Hiyori, I promise you. I don’t… want to ever feel like that again.” Yato pulled back to lightly press his lips to her forehead, “And I don’t want to be the reason you feel like that, either. I want you to be happy, always. Because I can’t even begin to explain what you do for me. How you make me feel whenever I’m around you.”

She let out a small squeak of surprise in response to his sudden affection, looking up at him in awe before answering, “I could say the same, but I do have words for it.”

He pulled backward and looked over her curiously, his eyes shining brightly, “Oh really?”

Hiyori gripped his jacket tightly again, looking down and taking a breath before she looked back up and let out, “Yeah, it’s ‘I love you’.” She swallowed and blinked before repeating more confidently, “I’m in love with you.”

“Hiyori,” He raised both of his hands to cup both sides of her face, his voice cracking and his eyes wet, “You--I…” Tears slipped down his cheeks and he gave a smile, “Fuck, I’m ruining this aren’t I?”

“Of course not.” She answered honestly, a smile on her lips as well.

He pressed his mouth against hers only briefly, not giving her much of a chance to react. 

“I love you too. So much.”

She answered by pressing her lips to his again, gentle and sweet. As she pulled back, both of them jolted as they were surrounded by loud cheering.

Hiyori hid her face in Yato’s shoulder as he called out to their friends in annoyance, “Hey, this isn’t a show!”

“Everything with you is a show.” Bishamon commented in return, her hand to her forehead.

Kofuku held her camera down at her side, chiming in, “Bisha’s right, there were plenty of places you could have gone to have privacy. Instead you decided to have this conversation in front of everybody. So it’s your fault, Yato-chan.” 

“It’s not like I knew this would happen.” He gestured to Hiyori clinging to him, to which he received a swift elbow to his side, “Ow!”

“I had a feeling.” Hiiro volunteered, waving her hand from over at the table.

It was Yukine who voiced his surprise first, “What? How?”

“Oh, please. Yato’s always been hopeless when it comes to her. And it’s been obvious they were tiptoeing around the subject for a while now.” She gave a shrug.

“I mean, I guess you’re right.” Yukine grumbled in response, “Still, this is gonna be weird as hell.”

“Think of it this way,” Daikoku put a hand on Yukine’s shoulder, “Now he won’t bother you as much.”

“Hmm, that is true.” The younger boy hummed in agreement. “Sorry, Hiyori. Guess he’s mainly your problem now.”

“Why am I a problem ?”

“It’s okay.” She flashed the blonde a smile, “I kind of figured.” 

[torawro]

Hey sosa!!! Sorry if you’re getting a lot of byakuya ask! So I got something I’ve been thinking about. Imagine byakuya gets taken to a strip club/gentlemen club by his peers and renji to help him ease up a little bit and to get out more and he wasn’t really all that impress until he sees reader and boom! He’s been stuck on them from that moment on and tries everything to get her! From visiting often, to VIPS rooms, giving gifts and eventually trying to make her quit because he’s so rich he can easily just pay her lifestyle if he wanted to!

EEEEEEEK!!! So whatcha think about that? And if you ever build a headcanon off this I’ll be foaming at the mouth 😮‍💨cuz your and writing is 🤌🏾😮‍💨

P.s. I might even come off anon if you can guess who wrote this🤭🤭

HI NONNIE !!! i am soooooooo incredibly sorry for being late :(( i'm finally getting to all my asks >< please don't apologize i absolutely LOVE AND ADORE the saturation of byakuya related content i've been getting in my ask box and i want more :D love a reason to talk about my maaannnnnn. also, i think i very much know who this is but u shall let u come forward if you wish :))))

okay i personally LOVEEEEE THIS IDEA???FDKFDEKF LIKE THIS SOUNDS SO GOOD ! i think this kind of scenario is def something he would do to an extent 🤭 i would like to add, at first byakuya wouldn't want to go to this kind of place because, as prideful as he is, he thinks he's 'above it' and thinks that men who frequent these establishes so often are lowkey 'tasteless' because he just doesn't understand, subjectively, the appeal of watching barely clothed women dance in front and around him. but he may understand why other men might go.

and then he folds.

it's because renji is annoyingly persistent and figured the only way to get him and his other male friends/colleagues to stop asking is to go. so he promise he'll go just once and one time only just to see what the hype is about and it's like you said, he wasn't all thatttt impressed (at least they had decent drinks) but probably wouldn't come back on his own free will. until he sees the reader 🤭 she comes out in an outfit that is revealing but isn't all THAT revealing compared to her coworkers and his eyes are immediately drawn to her. there's also a certain elegance, poise and finesse that is threaded within her every movement but at the same time, she's still very sensual and feminine. the combination was incredibly sexy and captivating to byakuya, his gray silver eyes would continuously find their way back to her, like metal to a magnet. your gazes met twice during the night; your eyes were beautifully beguiling, but there was an amicable quality to them that felt inviting. you even gave him a wave as you left, and byakuya's eyes widened in surprise but otherwise his face didn't give away any emotion to his other colleagues.

all night he would think about you. yes 'kuya was a quiet man by nature but this time he was somewhat lost in thought pondering and contemplating about you and as he parted with his friends and arrived at his lavish, expansive bachelor pad, he was also already considering returning back to the establishment.... just to see you.

but ofc because he is as stubborn as he is quiet and intelligent, he wouldn't actually go back for almost another week. he made sure to go discreetly on a day/time that none of his colleagues would be there b/c he knew if they ever saw him they'd never let him live it down. this second time he goes back, he sits in a section by himself and just watches you, gingerly sipping on the alcohol he's been served. the way his eyes became low as he stared at you dance and manuever on stage, you would think he was glaring at you but it was quite the opposite. he was observing you, drinking you in, trying to figure you out just by watching you; byakuya could be very astute. either way it made you hot to have this handsome man's eyes on you all night. it wasn't in a creepy or predatory way which was a change of pace u could appreciate. in fact, you found it-- and him-- very attractive.

byakuya would find himself giving into his more primitive desires and visited a third and fourth time and the fifth time is when he gathered the courage (?) to request a private room with this woman. he figured it was time to talk to her. in all honesty, he didn't really like the idea of visiting this place so often because it made him a hypocrite but he came for you. and now, it's time he'd show you his world after getting to watch u in yours. he def courted her using his polite manners, chivalrous attitude and...basically just being himself and he was such a breath of fresh air, and sexy too, how could u resist?

i don't want this to get any longer than it already is LMAOOOOO but as u can see.........the wheels in my brain were actively turning as i typed and this was too good of an idea that i could most CERTAINLY flesh out so i thank u for this <3

[roman-cates]

"I'm heading out, then," Bryce interjects.

Roman says "Bye," and waves as Bryce leaves. He's smiling. Bryce waves back from the door, feeling a bit better about this whole plan.

He leaves, locking the door behind him. The second deadbolt won't be engaged, but he tells himself that Kyle's presence will stop anyone from coming by unexpectedly.

He checks his phone one last time, sends Emily a note that he's on his way, and begins to drive.

*

With Bryce gone, Kyle heads into the living room. He sits down on the sofa far less gingerly than he did the last time, and pulls a folded sheet of paper from his pocket. He hands the sheet over to Roman, and turns the television on.

"There's, um, kind of summaries there," he tells Roman as he begins to navigate through all the channel options.

"I'm heading out, then," Bryce interjects.

Roman looks from Kyle to Bryce and waves with a cheerful, "bye!" He's a bit anxious about Bryce leaving, but he's also happy to spend more time with Kyle.

Once Bryce leaves, Roman and Kyle head into the living room. Kyle seems more relaxed as he sits down this time, but Roman doesn't know if it's due to Bryce's absence from the house or because Kyle is actually starting to feel more comfortable.

Roman looks over the list of movies as Kyle turns on the TV. "There's, um, kind of summaries there," he tells Roman as he begins to navigate through all the channel options.

Roman nods. The sheet is very organized. There's... a lot of information on the paper. Movie titles, names of actors, summaries, the genre of each movie... "You put a lot of work into this, huh?" Roman asks, caught a little off guard by just how comprehensive the list is.

[n0tamused]

Sorry if this request is strange but I'm curious as to what you think Jiyan, Jinhsi, Geshulin and Mortefi would look like if they became dragons? What type of dragon would they be, how big and anything interesting!

Wuthering Waves characters as dragons!

A/n: YESSSSSSSS. Worry not anon, your request is not strange at all! I did give myself go to also visualize what I think they'd look like as dragons, along with some headcanons and a size chart at the end. I do hope you like this :) please enjoy my mind worms talking about the dragon hyperfixation lol All art here was done by me, do not use without permission/credit

Contents: Dragon Wuwa characters, Jiyan, Geshu Lin, Jinhsi and Mortefi x reader (separate), fluff, a bit of angst if you squint really hard, grammar mistakes probably bc I'm like that

Ko-fi

Jiyan:

-Jiyan is one of the bigger dragons, but his strength lies more so in endurance and perseverance rather than just brute strength

-His scales are smoother and look softer even, and when light passes over them they look a bit like fish scales with the way they glimmer

-Personality wise, as a dragon he is about the same as his human self, easy going and calm. Unless provoked or called to battle, you will scarcely ever see hostility from him, if ever at all. He does often linger near places where danger would be lurking, earning himself the title of a guardian very easily and early on. He just seems to have the sixth sense for trouble, and he can’t get himself to turn a blind eye to any suffering of his people

-Besides being battle ready and such, it is said his presence does have a calming aura with it, some dare say that it even heals the person to some extent. His scales, when ground up, have healing properties, and Jiyan does not lack generosity for that either.

-He has stepped into service of the territory as a young dragon, and a part of that youthful naivety still lingers in him, although he has grown wiser - he still blindly believes in that good of the world. One day it will all pass, the evil will be no more, and Jiyan will retrieve to some distant corner where, somewhere high up from where he can watch the lands and bask in the sun, all the past troubles now lost to memory

-His fur is really fluffy although a bit coarse to the touch, it protects him as much as it servers a more aesthetic side of his dragon. He takes good care of it, and doesn’t like it getting mangled. He gladly lets you help him with it too, if you have the strength to comb through all of it lol

-He does have a taste for swimming, both to remain clean but also active. He does running enough, and swimming is a fun activity that takes his weight off of his legs. However he does not like the sea, the salty water makes him icky

-The jewelry he wears and the armor was all gifted to him by important people in his life and fellow dragons, he wears them with pride and let’s them give him courage in trying times

-If you are a dragon too, or a human he values a lot and keeps close, he makes for a great cuddle buddy. He is long and when he curls up, it’s as if he made a bed in the middle of this little spiral for you to lay in. He is very peaceful and really likes the time spent with you.

-If you are a human and he is in this giant dragon form, he acts as if you’re an ant underfoot, which honestly you are, seeing how tiny you are compared to his claws alone, and he is quite worried he may hurt you or god forbid step on you

-He steps around you gingerly, always having an eye out for you so he knows where not to step or trudge to close to

-Preferably he’d have you riding on his back or on top of his head, there’s more than enough space there

-Seeing as he is a dragon most of the time, doing his work, it is rare you’ll catch him in his human form a lot, but when you do he relishes in your touch. Nuzzling in your neck and breathing in your scent as if he was starved of it. 

Geshu Lin:

-A war dragon through and through. Born and bred for battle.

-Although his species is related to Jiyan and Jinhsi's, he does share similar features to the winged dragons of the New Federation. Tough scales and spikes line his entire body, acting as both a weapon and a shield to himself against other enemies. His body is lined with scars and scratches, old and new, displaying his long years of service and experience in battle.

-He has half of a whisker missing on his left side 

-The jewelry he wears is a memorial of people he long lost in battle, although some believe he also looted the pieces of another dragon he triumphed over in war.

-He is a formidable beast and willful, he’s not someone to be trifled with. Some say he has learned to manipulate flames on the battlefield. But whether that is true or not, everyone has grown to fear the pale beast of Jinzhou.

-Due to his long years spent on the battlefield he has become an uneasy individual to be with or hold a conversation with, and his nights are often plagued with unrest or nightmares, he can never seem to rest easy. Only battle can make his mind escape the troubles of his other days, and for a little while it all seems to make the world stop - and he can finally breathe again

-Due to this, the medics that were close enough to realize this, suggested he wears protective amulets and papers with prayer written onto them in hopes that such would ease his mind. Time is yet to tell if these ever worked, or if Geshu Lin was touched by this moment of care from others

-It is said you were the only one that could bring him peace of mind, even if all you did was simply linger in the camp or near him. Geshu Lin did have a knack for always beckoning you close - just sit beside him, it will be enough. Sometimes you two would take to a more secluded place in the mountains, still overlooking the battlefield, but far away so no one could see. And he’d lay down, his body falling and rumbling through the ground while he exhaled heavily. He naps, letting you do as you please. If you wish to sit on his back he is not one to deny it, or if you want to sleep beside him, all the better. He has full confidence he can and will defend you if someone dares to sneak up on you two

-Geshu Lin rarely goes back to his human form. He has grown to dislike how weak that vessel can be, and how little it can do for the war cause, so he has all but abandoned it.

-If he does return back to human form, it would be to pass through some tunnel most likely than not, or to talk to some human captain back in the city on the rare occasions he goes back for meetings or to give his report. He is more grumpy in this form, he doesn’t like it - it makes him feel weak. People have learned to respect this side of him, although some genuinely fear him too and keep their distance away from him at all cost

-During one particular battle where even he was overwhelmed, he disappeared, leaving behind a long, thick trail of blood and fallen enemies to litter each end of the battlefield, but no one ever found him, no matter how much they followed the red line. It was odd for such a giant beast to simply vanish. Some speculated he died, but others argued that if he was truly dead, his remains would have been found by now. So, now he makes for a great ghost tale among the people. Some say that if you go to an old battlefield, you can hear his growling and snarling underneath the cracked and blood soaked earth

Jinhsi:

-Most beloved of dragons and, as the word has it, the most powerful among the dragons. She may not be as big as the battle dragons of the land, or most formidable looking, but do not let looks deceive you. She has protected her lands in her own ways, and none of them were easy

-She does not lack in wisdom and knowledge, but to her closest companions she did express doubt over her capabilities on a handful of occasions.

-Jinhsi looks like the embodiment of the snowy mountains and the glaciers that can be found around Mt. Firmament. Soft flowing fur that hugs her neck like a thick mane, and the long tuft of fur on her tail is faded to a blue. Sometimes, people say they can see snowflakes on her fur, flowing from it and melting when they touch the ground

-She often floats instead of walking, holding an air of elegance and regality about her wherever she goes. Her claws are faded gold and she has two golden stars on top of her forehead, the third one hidden underneath the fur

-The people often do bring gifts as offerings to her, some which she declines if she sees the person offering it needs it more than she does. 

-During the year she will descend down to her land of people and bring her own gifts - sometimes a few days of cool air during summer droughts, or easier snows during long winters, other times she only brings her presence when the people feel uneasy due to wars happening outside the borders. A lot of times she holds an audience in the main plaza, giving her advice to the towns people and even travelers from distant lands

-Jinhsi assists in the war mostly by gaining intelligence, giving strategies to the generals and captains, and while she does know how to fight, she saves her strength for the city, should all outside forces fall.

-She is one made for solitude, or at least that is the nature of her duty, and not many people actually see her face-to-face or outside of her duty which seems to be never ending, 24/7

-She rarely sleeps, and some say she doesn’t even need to sleep. Her Grace only needs the love and trust of her people to give her strength - or so the tale would say

-She is still young in terms of dragon years, but for her age she has grown a lot. Her scales are still soft, smooth running across her pale body.

-She doesn’t often let anyone near her den, which the people have decorated so beautifully with gifts, gems, silk and much more. She would let you in, secretly during the night when you both can have the reprieve of the watchful eyes of guards or civilians. She lets you talk, listening attentively as she rests her worn body

-She purrs in her sleep sometimes, long soft groans in her throat that seem like a bunch of gentle bees caught and wrapped in cotton and linen and then pressed to your ear to help you sleep.

-She doesn’t often go in her human form, much like Geshu Lin - it makes her vulnerable. And as someone of high status as her, it would be wise to avoid any vulnerability. She’d rather not risk being caught unaware with a blade in her heart or at her throat

-In human form she seems to be more slow in her movement, perhaps due to not using the vessel so much or due to exhaustion the long years of duty have taken upon her, but she is aware of every sound around her and often knows you are there before you even announce yourself

Mortefi:

-A rare dragon in these lands, as not many New Federation dragons can be found so far from their home. They aren't nomads by any means, and prefer to stick to their land of origin.

-Yet, Mortefi is unlike what gossip would describe him or his kind as. Fanatical and obsessive over technology, that part he shares in common with his peers, but he is nowhere near as greedy. He does not hoard his knowledge in a pile, hiding away from the people for all eternity, nor is he as aggressive as his kind usually is, especially to strangers.

-While he truly is a loner, having made himself a home far from the central city and keeping it tidy and perfect for his high standards, he doesn’t shy from contact if he runs into someone else

-He’d much rather he didn’t run into them, but what does he have to be scared of? His scales can barely be pierced and fire does him no harm, what could anyone do to him? And conversation he doesn't fear either. It is unlike that someone knows something he doesn't already, but a little bit of back and forth hurt no one.

-He is the only one here to breathe fire, and his flames are strong red with streaks of orange. Geshu Lin does have some power of manipulating purple flames but they don't seem to have the same source, he doesn't breathe fire like Mortefi.

-He has quite a lot of witty remarks if some curious wanderer stops by his territory, and eventually he chases them off with his banter as the other person simply can’t handle his jargon and analogies - some even directed at them 

-What some don’t know though, is that Mortefi has kept guard over the most naive and vulnerable ones of their community. The children that returned to the cities and villages after being lost for days, only returned when he found them. Often with a little trinket in hand. He may not like the adults as much, but children he can’t fault for their naive outlook on the world or their curiosity. He was once a child too, full of wonder and spark that he believes he lost, he hasn’t felt it in years. His own upbringing left a hole in his chest, that spark once filled that hole, but now it’s gone

-He doesn’t like when people enter his abode, and he likes it even less when they touch his things. Those may be the only times you see him be so enraged - he has quite the specific way of sorting things, you see, and he keeps it all clean too, so don’t touch it. He hasn’t spent so long sorting it all out, building his craft and honing his skills just for you to put it out of place

-In terms of size, at the present he is the smallest of the dragons listed here, but he is awfully slow growing. Longevity is one of the qualities that marks his kind, so this isn’t out of place for him. He will grow, but it will take long years to get to the size some of his elders in the New Federation are at.

-Mortefi is someone who indulges in his human form more than any other, preferring human hands to do his experiments than his big dragon claws, although both have their merit in their own ways

-He works quickly, and long nights are often spent at the table of his abode, making yet another craft, be it for the children or for his own self-given quests for knowledge

-He does keep you away while he is working, but ever since you wormed your way into his heart, he could never keep you too far off. He can feel you lingering nearby, watching him work sometimes, and he doesn’t mind. He also realizes how happier he is to explain his process when you ask, the hole in his chest slowly being made full once more

Size chart:

Geshu Lin is the biggest of them all, but Jiyan isn't too far behind

Jinhsi is bigger than Mortefi although Mortefi has more mass to him, he is very chunky

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[fictionallyinparadise]

I started writing this when I started feeling Bad and finished it recently. There aren't any TWs needed but please feel free to request one if need be. Take care <3 (also reblogs are off because this is kind've a vent-y piece and. yeah. I'm doing Better-ish btw)

Cora was silent, their head in Chuuya's lap while Dazai talked about whatever came to mind. A cloud shaped almost perfectly like a triangle, a dandelion that grew in-between side walk cracks, what he had for breakfast that day.

All of it was for the sake of distraction. Cora knew this; nights like this were becoming much too common. They weren't doing good mentally. Between everyday life stress, work anxieties, and dysphoria...they were perhaps at a low point.

Chuuya's fingers ran through their hair. It was longer now, with tangles and snarls littered around like seasoning. He didn't say anything about it, gently working the knots out with his fingers. Dazai eventually stopped his rambling and just leaned his head against Cora's shoulder.

"How do you feel, belladonna?" He asked in a murmur, fingertips brushing over their face.

"...numb." They replied in a mutter.

"Well, it's different from 'shit', so I consider this improvement!" He tried to find the bright side, giving a sympathetic smile.

"...is it an improvement?" The redhead muttered, raising a brow. Cora just shrugged their shoulders in response. They supposed it would be improvement compared to their usual answer but still, it wasn't an ideal answer.

"Can I get you anything, darling?" Dazai tilted his head, looking like an excited dog ready to fetch. They almost smiled at that.

"I dunno." They muttered, shrugging again. "I just..." They trailed off and sighed. "I don't know."

"That's okay, sweetling." Chuuya murmured softly, gently moving aside greasy hair he'd gotten untangled to the side so he could continue without hassle.

"I was about to say that!" Dazai whined, crossing his arms and sighing dramatically. They smiled at that. "Ha! I got them to smile!" His pout faded to pure happiness.

Chuuya rolled his eyes but seemed happy, patting the top of Cora's head. "Atta..." He trailed off, silent for a moment. "...atta-thing?"

That got them to laugh.

"Chuuya! Don't call our little bear a 'thing'!" Dazai scolded lightly, but he looked elated to hear Cora laugh.

"Well I can't say 'attaboy' or 'attagirl'! There's no neutal word I can use!" Chuuya shot back with a lighthearted glare.

"So 'thing' was the best thing you came up with?" Dazai crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. "Is that what our darling Cora is? A thing?"

They tried not to laugh more but failed. It was obvious the two were only having this back and forth to make them laugh. It was sweet, actually.

"Well, if they wanna be a thing, they can be!" The redhead crossed his arms and huffed. "That's not the point anyway, dumbass."

Dazai raised a brow and hummed, playing with Cora's hair a bit as they closed their eyes. "We should all take a bath! Together!"

"No bathtub would fit us, mackerel." Chuuya snorted, shaking his head. "Good idea, absolutely no way to execute."

"Well, we can just squish together in the bath." The detective waved a hand, poking Chuuya's forehead. "It'd be like cuddling!"

Cora glanced between the two, raising a brow. "Wet cuddling."

That made the two laugh, and brought a smile to their face. "That sounds dirty, silly." Dazai hummed, kissing Cora's forehead. "We'll figure something out. We always do!"

"You say that now, so you better now whine about leg cramps later." Chuuya said in a grumble, raising a brow. "I guess it wouldn't be too bad. What do you think, sweet thing?"

Cora was quiet for a moment before nodding a little. "Can we cut my hair first?"

Silence filled the room; not a bad silence but a thoughtful one.

"I can do it." Dazai offered gently.

They nodded and sat up, still sticking close to Chuuya though. The physical contact brought comfort.

Gingerly, Dazai cut their hair, the tangled locks falling to a paper bag held underneath. He was focused on the task, no remarks coming out as he just focused.

Chuuya held their hand, also silent. It felt comfortable to be silent. Soon their hair was back to the short length they preferred, though still greasy and rather unpleasant to touch.

It didn't seem to bother either of their partners, though. They were grateful for that.

Chuuya got the bath running, adding lavender Epsom salts and making sure the water wasn't too hot. Dazai waited behind, arms wrapped around Cora, his face buried in their neck. The warm silence continued.

It continued even into the bath. It took a while to get arranged, since it was hard to fit three people into one tub. But it worked, in the end. Dazai and Chuuya took turns, one rinsing Cora's hair while the other massaged berry scented shampoo into it.

Cora didn't say anything. They let themselves be taken care of, for once. It felt nice, having gentle hands rub shampoo into their hair or a hand shielding their eyes as water poured over their head.

Getting out of the bath was a little more chaotic. It was rather amusing to hear the two bicker about who would get out first and why. In the end, Cora got out first, and helped the other two out. They took over the task of drying themself off.

"See? I knew we could do it." Dazai's smug but genuinely happy voice broke the silence.

"I'm gonna have bruises from your fuckin' elbows." Chuuya shot back, crossing his arms as his wet hair clung to his face and neck.

Cora just chuckled a bit, shaking their head. They took the chance to slip out of the bathroom and nab their boyfriends' clothes to use as pajamas before coming back to make sure the bickering didn't escalate.

"Aww, look at our handsome bear! They look so pretty in your shirt!" Dazai immediately stopped the argument to gush over Cora, smiling widely. Chuuya glanced over, his cheeks flushing and a smile undeniable on his face.

"...yeah. It's better than swimming in one of your shirts, you tall bastard." He mumbled with a chuckle.

Cora raised a brow and laughed at that. "It was the first shirt I could find."

"Well, you look positively glowing!" The brunette grinned, pressing multiple kisses on their face.

Chuuya, not about to miss out on giving Cora more affection, scrambled over, wrapping his arms snug around them, head resting on their shoulder.

A rather romantic scene if it wasn't in the bathroom.

Amused, Cora just returned the affection before getting dragged to bed, being immediately pulled into the usual messy cuddling position.

Chuuya, buried into their arms and clinging onto them, while he and them laid almost on top of Dazai, who had his arms loosely around them both.

It was awkward with limbs getting tangled and bumped together but Cora wouldn't trade this for anything. It felt nice, to just be held and to hold. Especially after the rather hard past few weeks they'd been enduring. This was always a relief from it all. And at least now, that relief came with the comfort of being clean with their usual haircut back.

[codenamejudas]

anotherhumanpet

"Yeah, I better." Dennis reached up to gingerly touch at his face, then winced and flinched back from his own self as the wound flared up with a fresh wave of pain. It was a stupid move, and he knew it, but the random, low intelligence thought had won the lottery this day and made it all the way to higher brain functions to become a reality that shouldn't have been at all in the first place. Dennis tried to make light of the situation anyway though by thinking to himself that it was a great tell for how bad the vodka wash would be.

Spoiler alert - it was awful. And not at all medically sound either, but he had long since abandoned the legitimate practices of his father's trade in exchange for the typical (and more accessible) Pandora way of doing things.

When all was said and done though, he stepped out of the side room with a fresh bandage stretched across his face and only little bit of redness in his eyes. (Involuntary tears hadn't been cried at all during the process, there was just some dust in his eyes blown in from the window that looked suspiciously more like a massive bullet hole than anything.) And while he passed by his partner in crime Vault hunting, Dennis tilted his head curiously at the guitar, frowned thoughtfully for a moment at its sound, then kept going on through the shack with every intention of going outside.

Two seconds later though and he was poking his head back inside. "Hey, do we have any skag meat left over by any chance? I'm kinda hungry. Also, speaking of skags, I saw a pack of them earlier on our way over here. You cool if I head back over there and try to tame one?"

The tinny sound became a screeching jumble of noise, "I do mind, I mind a hell of a lot." As quickly as he'd settled down, Judas packed back up. They had every intention of coming back to the shack but past experience for Judas said never to leave anything behind you weren't prepared to lose. Shit happened fast on this hellhole of a planet.

"Alright, grab your junk. We're going to get food, not a pet," he scolded, pointing directly at Dennis, "got it?" The SMG was given a quick once-over to make sure it was loaded and ready to go. Not wanting to lose the last dregs of daylight, Judas started heading out whether or not Dennis was caught up.

"I guess..." Looking down at the ECHO device, Dennis finally loosened his hold on it and regarded the thing with a slight frown. While Judas had a solid point about Dennis setting himself up for annoying, repetitive story telling later, the thought of dropping the stories altogether didn't sit right with him either. What else was he supposed to say when he recorded the ECHO letters to Jaden? That everything was fine, it was another adventuresome day (that he won't talk about because spoilers), and he was alive still, missing home, missing Jaden, and going to come back sooner or later? It felt wrong.

Dennis sighed before he turned off the recorder, then gently brushed the dust off the front of it and set it down on the nearby table. "I'll take watch tonight. Just lemme finish patching up," the teen gestured at his face, "and I'll be out, okay?"

[laminy]

Prompt Roy/Jamie: It's a few days before a big match and everyone is at training, except Jamie Tartt. Ted and the team all try to reach out but he's not answering his phone. Roy's his usual angry annoyance, but also a just a tad bit worried like everyone else. He grumbles but doesn't hesitate to go with Ted to check on Jamie. When they get to his place they find the door lock broken. When they step inside they are not prepared for the sight that awaits them. Roy may just go truly berserk

"I'll call 911."

Roy sighs. "It's 999."

"Right-o, slipped my mind a little bit there under all the stress."

"Coach, you don't need to call nobody," Jamie says. "I'm alright, yeah?"

Ted looks back and forth between the two of them; Jamie's sitting on the floor with a bunch of Kleenex pressed to his nose, while Roy's crouched beside him, cradling Jamie's bruised fist with a bag of frozen peas. It certainly looks like a scene that requires medical attention. Not to mention the police. "You sure about that?" he asks.

"Don't be a prick," Roy says. "Your nose might be broken."

"I'm fine," Jamie says.

"I'm uh, I'm gonna tidy up some," Ted says. "Let you two think on it. Maybe I'll google a good locksmith. Y'all got those around here?" He walks away, leaving Roy and Jamie in the kitchen together.

"Why didn't you ring one of us?" Roy asks.

"Uh, they broke my phone," Jamie says, gesturing to the cracked iPhone on the floor. "That's not gonna work, is it?"

"So, what was your plan, then?" Roy asks. "Come to training, late, looking like shit—"

"Fuck off," Jamie says. "Even with a black eye I look hot as fuck."

"Whatever," Roy says. He gently lifts the peas from Jamie's hand, examining his bruises. "You have to let him call the police. Someone broke in and stole your shit."

"They didn't take anything I can't replace," Jamie says. "Besides, Coach is already cleaning up. Not like there's gonna be much evidence left."

"Oh fucking hell," Roy says, looking around. He spots Ted on the floor, gingerly picking up pieces of broken glass. "Oi! Don't you fucking cut yourself!"

"Alright, alright," Ted says, waving him off.

"You've got a busted window, a broken lock," Roy says, looking back at Jamie.

"You can pay people to fix those things."

"God, you're fucking..."

"You know I'm alright, yeah?" Jamie asks. "Nothing's broken, promise. Look." He wiggles his fingers, and Roy winces, but it's true, they seemed to be bruised and bloody, but otherwise fine.

"Well, I don't care," Roy says anyway, because he hates seeing Jamie like this. Even if Jamie doesn't seem to mind. "You shouldn't be alone."

"What, I need Nanny McPhee now?" Jamie asks.

"I'm staying over."

Jamie snorts, then winces when it hurts. "You've got training."

"Beard is fine without us."

"He don't even talk."

"If you don't let me stay, then you'll just have to come over to mine," Roy says, and Jamie smiles.

"Oh yeah? Was that the plan? You hire a couple o' teenagers to come rough me up and break my door so I gotta stay with you?"

Roy glares at Jamie. "Yeah," he says flatly. "Did it work?"

Jamie leans in, pressing a kiss to Roy's lips, careful of his nose. "Guess so, yeah."

"I didn't really—"

"Yeah, obviously," Jamie says. "I'm not stupid." He looks at Roy, expecting his response. "Nothing to say?"

"Nope. Are you okay?"

"I really am, yeah. Promise." Jamie leans in to kiss him again, and then Ted walks back into the kitchen.

"Jamie, you're gonna need to fix that window too," Ted says. "Can't have all the wind and rain whipping around in here. If you need a place to stay, you're more than welcome to come to my place."

"Nah, Coach," Jamie says. "I got a place." His bruised hand finds Roy, and gives it a gentle squeeze. "Appreciate it though."