#and maybe some of them also have nice hair | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

carnelianly · 2 days

Text

this post contains noncon! please don’t read if that will be upsetting! i would never promote this in real life, and people, men or women, are always unable to consent to any kind of contact while intoxicated!

art is your friend. not your boyfriend. not your dog that you can tug around on a leash like you seem to think you can. he has a girlfriend. he’s madly in love with her. he doesn’t want you. sure, he can acknowledge that you’re pretty and he can tell himself, in the comforts of his own head ‘if i were single, i’d.. definitely go for her’. in another life, maybe he was yours. not in this one.

but he was invited out to the bar by patrick who also invited you and a couple other friends and he doesn’t mind your presence at all. you’re.. you’re nice enough. you may make him a little nervous when you smile like that, but that’s not for him to say. he keeps himself polite but distant in conversation with you.

he drinks a little too much. patrick always suggests shots and what is art supposed to do? say no? look like a pussy?

he downs them anyway, one after another until it’s two hours later and he forgets he’s barely eaten much all day and there’s so much alcohol in his system that he can’t stand up straight.

not to worry, you’re them to catch him before he falls over. patrick and the others are off talking about some nonsense, but you’re being so nice and helpful, you wipe the drool from his chin and fix his hair and he smiles faintly at you in gratitude.

you smile back at him, one arm holding him up since he’s not stable enough to stand on his own, half leaning on the bar counter and half relying on you to keep him up. your other hand is… art isn’t really paying attention. feels weird, though. it’s between his thighs, rubbing the skin softly, almost teasingly. art isn’t coherent enough to understand what’s happening.

you’re smiling at him, telling him everything is gonna be fine, because it will be. everything will be okay. he doesn’t have to worry, you’ll take care of him, keep him safe. there’s so many bad people in this world that might try to hurt him, steal his wallet, take advantage of him. you’re not like that. you’re just gonna keep talking to him like this until it’s time to leave and then you’re gonna take him home. he’s too drunk to get back to his place by himself, so you’ll just let him stay at yours. so gracious of you.

he listens because he has no other choice, and he’s not as much letting you touch him but not able to stop you. your hand is on his crotch, massaging him through his jeans, and he moans and he falls forward into you, resting his head on your shoulder. he’s weak. unable to do anything but take this treatment. your hand that was keeping him upright moves to his ass, always so plump and thick, god, he obviously does it for his girlfriend but he might as well have done it for you, in this moment.

you could so easily take what you wanted from him, especially because you’re sure he’s about to black out and remember nothing. but you’re a better person than that, you tell yourself. you’re just touching, you’re not gonna break anything.

you end up taking him into the bathroom, and he’s too drunk to know what he’s doing, but hey, he kissed you first, even if he’s tripping over his own feet and practically drooling into your mouth. it’s hot, and you feel him up some more. it feels wrong to fuck him, too permanent. he’d definitely know what happened then. he’s smart when he’s sober, smart enough anyway.

in the end, he’s taken home with patrick and a couple of buddies, taking a shared uber home while art is blacked out, while you go off by yourself.

the next time you see art, he definitely does not remember what happened that night. he does feel a little weird around you, but he can’t quite put his finger on why your presence is so.. uncomfortable all of a sudden…

#in an alternate universe where art is dating tashi and is still friends with patrick :3 #art donaldson #challengers #challengers art #art x reader #challengers art donaldson #challengers fic #challengers x reader #challengers smut #p♡

86 notes · View notes

menlove · 15 hours

Note

do you have any girl!mclennon hcs? like how they'd do their hair, how they'd dress, their relationship etc etc

LESBIAN MCLENNON I LOVE YOUUUUU. have a dump. i think about them constantly.

in my mind (at least when they're younger), paul would look like shauna shipman (the character not the actress bc the actress is blonde w blue eyes lmfao) while john i could see being played by rachel sennott

i think i've mentioned this before but paul's first name is definitely mary. pauline is probably her middle name and she just goes by paul. john's harder i've given this thought before but never landed on one, but she still goes by john bc i say so

paul before meeting john is definitely trying to fit into the mold of nice 50s teenage girl- hoop skirts, ponytails, cardigans. when she starts getting more into rock she WANTS to dress differently but doesn't until john talks her into it and then it's leather jackets and drainies still. john just never conformed she wouldn't give a fuck about it

they'd both be in really interesting situations! because paul here is the Oldest Girl after her mom died. so moreso than in real life, the brunt of expectation & household management would get shoved on her, especially with jim out gambling and drinking. similarly, mimi would be driven to insanity with john because she's nowhere NEAR how she thinks she should be and she also sort of sees her as julia 2.0 and she's petrified for her

i think they're probably a lot more physically affectionate bc how casual homophobia between women manifests vs w men is very different, so they're allowed to sort of hang off each other as long as it doesn't Get Weird. and it does certainly get weird with them, they get called dykes more than a few times

i think paul would more readily accept being asked to wear makeup and dress proper again by brian (who is a semi-out lesbian here i can't take away the beautiful homoeroticism of brian & john's relationship) whereas john is gnashing her teeth and throwing the world's biggest fit about it. sometimes paul does her makeup for her though and that's alright.

they start to loosen up with it in '66 and get more androgynous and by pepper's era they're both THRIVING being able to dress androgynously. paul starts getting funky with her makeup around that era too and john just stops wearing it completely

john cuts her hair shorter around revolver era and paul follows suit because they're Mirrors. paul has a twiggy thing going on.

paul also grows her hair out again in the worst most untamed Mess you've ever seen around get back era.

i've had this thought that they've fooled around a bit and john's out in an open industry secret sort of way like. girls would still throw themselves at the girl!beatles i feel this in my soul and i think george and john would be out getting pussy while paul WANTS to be out getting pussy but is holding herself back. but john will Not fuck her like she fucks other girls because this would tip whatever they're doing into Romantic territory like she KNOWS it would be different with paul and this pisses paul off to no end.

of course they DO end up fucking at some point and this makes things worse for everyone involved

paul has a boyfriend who she keeps getting on and off again engaged to (peter asher maybe lmfaoooo in which case... she is lowkey also still fucking jane on the side) and john hates him so so so so bad she wants that man dead and she makes it obvious

yoko is still a woman and her and john do political lesbianism (yoko's straight, john isn't, this is as much as a disaster as anyone would expect it to be) and paul is climbing the fucking WALLS out of how mad the whole thing makes her because it's not HER that john's being openly gay with. not that she'd want to be! but it's the fact that SHE was never ASKED!

linda is also still a woman and this also makes john madder than anyone's ever been because what do you mean paul has been into women romantically this entire time and now she's having a not-so-secret affair with an american photographer and moving to fucking scotland with her? she's losing it.

#mclennon

40 notes · View notes

obsessivefreakandpartners · 2 days

Text

I want settled down aziracrow to have kids so bad. It's canon that Crowley loves kids according to a Neil Gaiman post.

I want Crowley to be the fun dad who takes their kids on activities that Azi, the anxious ( yet more responsible ) dad, calls "too risky for kids".

I want Crowley to be overprotective of their daughters and their future boyfriends to fear him. When they are little kids, he often carries them on his back, makes funny faces at them, gets them to pull little cute pranks on Aziraphale who barely holds himself from bursting into laughter, pretending to be strict etc

I want Aziraphale to comb their hair, dress them nicely, teach them all sorts of things being the nerd he is, and encourage them with their own unique hobbies. He teaches them manners, how to be good to other people but also how to put the rude ones in their place with sassiness.

I want Crowley to always tell his kids that Aziraphale's stubbornness and some of his ways can be difficult at times but still lovable, for you can't love a person without accepting their whole core.

I want Aziraphale to explain to them that when Crowley is grumpy, or snappy, it's because he has been through so much in his life, that he is really worried about their well being and that's his way of expressing it even tho it's not the way to go.

I want one of their daughters to regularly steal the Bentley at age 16 because I love her giving Crowley crap . She is basically him in many ways and when he bitches , Aziraphale is like "does she remind you of a certain someone?".

I want one of their sons to date an extremely powerful yet sweetheart nephilim, with whom they often do dangerous crap during their adventures, trying to help humans, loved ones etc. ( even tho they probably shouldn't...) Aziraphale and Crowley have foulproofed the house, the bookshop, the bentley as they have been destroyed in the past in 100 different ways.

I want one of their daughters to be so obsessed with poisonous plants and animals that she basically fills her room with those. Sometimes they escape and they cause problems to human visitors, so Azi and Crowley have to heal them on a regular basis. She doesn't even know if there is an antidote against most of their bites but she counts on her dad's powers ( or maybe she hasn't thought of it that much...).

Their kids are good, caring, booksmart like Aziraphale and noble, rebellious and streetsmart like Crowley; truly a very powerful combination. You can't expect them to be mundane, everyday kids.

I want aziracrow to have a Second Arrangement according to which, if something happens to one of them, the other one has to go on for their kids.

Unlike the first Arrangement with which Crowley came up, this one was suggested by Aziraphale who knows how emotionally vulnerable Crowley can be without him.

They seal their arrangement with a kiss and a hug while spotting some shooting stars, wishing that they won't ever need that one.

#good omens #good omens crowley #good omens aziraphale #aziracrow #good omens headcanons #ineffable idiots #ineffable husbands #good omens aziracrow

28 notes · View notes

sissylittlefeather · 8 hours

Text

A House That Has Everything: Chapter 2

A/N: Chapter 2 of my new series! This one came to me when I saw these amazing AI photos on Instagram made by @blackvelvetep and @_chiara975ep. (Be sure to check out their pages on Instagram!) My fic brain went crazy and this storyline was born.

Set in Regency England, Mr. Presley is the gentleman who owns and resides in Graceland Manor. Annabelle Martin is his newest maid after her parents have died and left her an orphan. Can he resist his affection for her, despite the difference in their social class?

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, masturbation (male), imagining some sexy things

Word count: ~2.4k

Need to catch up? Masterlist HERE.

Mr. Presley sighs and turns from the window. Will the responsibility of this new life never end?

******

After two weeks in her new position, Annabelle has settled into a new normal at Graceland Manor. It's not one she particularly likes or enjoys, but it's a routine at least. She's finally learned what her responsibilities are and how to do all of them. She's also met everyone in the house and learned who is worth talking to and who isn't. The other maids are not. They're both young and experienced and spend most of their time making snide comments and whispering about her. The cook, Mrs. Hall, is her favorite person, so far. She has a warm, welcoming air about her that makes Annabelle feel at home even in the big house that has no other home-like feeling. She hasn't talked to her much, but she likes her best of all anyway. And the handsome footman that answered the door when she first arrived is the cook’s son. His name is Jimmy and he's been nothing but cordial, albeit maybe a little too friendly. Most everyone else is nice enough, but she doesn't have a real companion among the group.

One of Annabelle's jobs is tending the fires in every room each morning. This means she's up before dawn every day. She doesn't enjoy that part, but it's actually quite nice to move about the house while everyone else is still asleep. Her favorite room is the library, which doubles as Mr. Presley’s private study. She never has much time to spend in there, but she does take a few minutes occasionally to look around at the books, even glancing at his desk a couple of times. He's a mess. There are papers stacked and sticking out of piles everywhere. She's not sure why, but she finds this a little endearing, even if she has sworn to hate him.

About 3 weeks after her first day, Annabelle walks into the library purposefully, ready to light the fire and try to look at the books a little. She's startled when she realizes there is a candle burning and someone sitting at the desk. There's only one person it could possibly be, so she tries to back out of the room as quickly as she can, but she hits the doorframe and it makes a loud thud. He immediately turns and stands up and she gasps.

Mr. Presley has an imposing presence even when he's not angry, so he feels almost terrifying when he is. He glares at her and Annabelle is overwhelmed with the desire to melt into the carpet.

“Where have you been?! It's freezing in here.” She shakes her head and stumbles over her words.

“I-I I'm sorry-”

“There's no excuse.” His eyes are wild and red-rimmed like he's either been crying or hasn't slept or both and his hair looks like he's run his hand through it about a thousand times. Annabelle recognizes the look of distress and her fear turns to compassion.

“Did you… have you been in here all night?” She asks in a small voice. He's obviously disarmed by the fact that she hasn't just run away from him.

“What?”

“You look like… have you slept?” She chances a step towards him and his imposing presence seems to shrink a little.

“That is none of your business! Just light the fire and get out!” He spits at her and turns away. She walks over to the fire and tends to it quickly.

As she works at the fireplace, he turns back and watches her. There was a hint of something in her voice that he hasn't experienced from anyone other than the Mrs. Hall in a very long time. Could it have been kindness?

He softens a bit as he watches her at the fireplace. Her shoulders are delicate and graceful as she works and he has the thought again that she wasn't built for this kind of hard labor. He feels an insane desire to help her, to take the task of making the fire and do it for her, but that would be inappropriate on every level. Still, something about her makes him want to throw propriety out the window and care for her the way men do in stories about knights and ladies. He's lost in this reverie when she finishes and stands up, turning back to him.

Annabelle is shocked to find him watching her when she turns away from the fire. He moves quickly to look somewhere else, but for half a second she could've sworn his expression was gentle.

“Are you finished?” He hisses, not looking at her.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Get out. Be earlier tomorrow.” His attempt to put her in the right place in his mind comes out as unnecessary coldness.

“Yes, sir.” Annabelle whispers and goes to walk from the room. But at the door, she pauses and turns back.

“You could tell me… why you haven't slept… if you wanted. No one would listen even if I tried to tell them your secrets.” For a second, he meets her eyes and the warmth he finds there soothes an ache he didn't even know he had. And then he remembers himself.

“OUT.” He tries to yell, but falters the tiniest bit. She nods and leaves the room.

Falling into the nearest chair, Mr. Presley sighs deeply and pinches the bridge of his nose. She's right that he hasn't slept. He's been holed up in the study trying to make sense of some documents since last night. Somewhere around 3am, the frustration had turned to grief and he cried for an hour or so. He was making his way back to frustration when she came in.

Why had he responded to her kindness with such cruelty? He knows the answer but isn't ready to face the reality of it.

******

In the next room, Annabelle sits in front of the fireplace crying quietly into her apron. She's so lonely and tired of the harshness with which she's treated here. There's not even anyone she could tell about her struggles. She's alone.

And why had she tried to connect with him? Not only is he a gentleman, he's her master, and not a very nice one at that. But something about him and his emotional state touched her and she felt compelled to offer herself in some way. And for no discernible reason whatsoever, his rejection hurts worst of all.

She starts to cry big, heaving sobs, knowing they're audible but no longer caring. Let them get rid of her. Maybe she could leave this miserable place and let Mr. Presley light his own fires.

******

On his way to bed, Mr. Presley hears the unmistakable sound of a woman crying coming from the drawing room. He walks quietly to the door and peeks through the crack.

The new maid.

His heart shatters when he hears the depth of her despair as she sobs. She's probably crying because he was so hateful. He lightly puts his fingertips on the door to push it open and go to her. Then he stops. It takes everything inside him to turn from the door and leave her there crying.

******

When Annabelle gets back downstairs, the kitchen is bustling with activity. Mr. Presley is entertaining later that evening, so Mrs. Hall is in a tizzy getting everything ready. Most days she does just fine by herself since she's only cooking for one man upstairs and the help downstairs, but when he entertains, she wishes she had some help. Annabelle wanders through despondently and perches on a bench.

“Love, don't you have something else to do?” Mrs. Hall asks, sweat running down the side of her face.

“Not really. I've done all my morning work already.” Annabelle kicks the floor with the toe of her shoe. She's still having to work to keep from crying.

“Get over here and help me, then. I'm assuming you know how to peel and chop.”

“Yes ma'am. I did all the cooking when I lived with my… my parents.” Her voice catches in her throat and Mrs. Hall stops and actually looks at her with her red little nose and tear-stained face.

“Love, what's got you upset?” Mrs. Hall asks as Annabelle washes her hands and takes some potatoes to peel.

“Nothing, ma'am.”

“Call me Gladys, dear.” Annabelle shakes her head.

“Oh, I could never.” Mrs. Hall laughs.

“Even Mr. Presley calls me Gladys sometimes.” Annabelle looks up at her in shock. That's far more interesting than her troubles.

“May I ask why?”

“Sure you can. I practically raised that boy. His mother passed trying to birth his twin and I had Daniel who was nearly the same age. Colonel Presley was lost for a good while after the mistress died and he paid very little attention to his son. The nanny they'd hired wasn't a very nice woman and Elvis- I mean Mr. Presley- used to spend most of his time hiding from her down here with me. He played with my boys and I taught him to cook and play the pianoforte. He's almost like a son to me, despite the difference in station.” Annabelle’s eyes widen with Mrs. Hall’s words. She tries to imagine a young Mr. Presley running through the kitchen, learning to cook and playing with servant boys. But more than the image of him as a child, it's the look that Mrs. Hall has when she talks about him that surprises her. It's a look of deep respect and love. She wonders how long it's been since Mrs. Hall has spoken with him. Maybe he has changed. “Now why don't you tell me what's got you so troubled.”

Annabelle looks down at the potato she's peeling and decides that she needs someone more than she needs to keep her own secrets.

“It's funny you mention Mr. Presley.”

“Why, love?” Annabelle sighs.

“He's the reason I was upset. Well, not the whole reason, but kind of the last thing I could handle. No one here has been very kind to me, him least of all.” Mrs. Hall nods and smiles.

“Hm. He likes you.” Annabelle looks at her with her face scrunched in shock.

“No, he does not. I assure you.”

“He likes you and he knows he shouldn't. He's trying to keep you at arm’s length.” Annabelle shakes her head.

“How do you know? Maybe he hates me?”

“If he hated you he wouldn't speak to you at all. I know my boy. He likes you.”

“No, I'm sure that's not it.” Annabelle continues peeling potatoes in silence, but her heart is pounding. Why does the prospect of Mr. Presley liking her make her knees weak?

******

That evening, Mr. Presley has several friends over for dinner. They eat and play cards and have cigars and brandy and recount their most recent adventures in London. His closest friend, Mr. Jasper Davies, asks what everyone else is wondering.

“When will you be married, then?” They're not eager to lose the company of their bachelor friend, but they know the expectation now that he's the master of a great house.

“I have no designs on marriage anytime soon.” Mr. Presley answers, knowing this won't be realistic for very long. He'll have to marry sooner rather than later. Still, he's never found any particular young lady of his station that he liked well enough to marry. There had been one girl, an actress, that he had loved quite a bit before he joined the army, but she was not a viable partner for him. None of the ladies of the county interested him and he found most of them to be rather one-dimensional and boring.

The conversation about marriage continues, but Mr. Presley has a hard time focusing. For some reason, the new maid enters his mind. He thinks about her slender white hands, too delicate for the work she does. And the way her uniform follows her curves down to her waist and then hides the rest. What he wouldn't give to be able to see her legs and feet unobstructed. He lets his imagination go even further and suddenly a picture of her naked and sprawled on his bed appears. His cock twitches in his pants and he has to adjust and clear his throat to bring himself back to reality. That's a thought he cannot have, especially not in present company.

Eventually, everyone retires to one of the many bedrooms in the house. Mr. Presley stops briefly in the library with the vague hope that the maid might be there. Of course she's not, but the brandy he's had makes his logic a little faulty. He makes it back to his bedroom where his valet undresses him and puts him in bed.

It's not long before he realizes he's staring at his fireplace, imagining the maid on her knees in front of it. This image is quickly replaced by an image of her on her knees in front of him. He curses himself for the inappropriate images in his head and the way his dick hardens at the thought of her, but he can't stop his hand from finding himself under his nightshirt. She's so pretty and kind and graceful and oh, God, he'd give anything to see her and feel her pressed up against him as they tumble naked together in the bedclothes.

He moans softly as his hand pumps his cock, sliding his foreskin back and forth, his thumb sweeping over the tip to collect the beads of precum as they gather. His hips buck into his palm and he strokes himself harder and faster. He tries to focus again on the actress that he normally thought of when he did this, but he can't. There is only the maid. The maid with her hands on him, with her mouth on him, with her thighs on either side of his hips as she sinks down onto him, with her lips parted and eyes closed as she reaches the peak of ecstasy and cries out his name. With that, he whimpers as he cums all over his hand, his cock throbbing and pulsing and leaking until his release has fully washed over him. He lays in his bed sweating and trying to catch his breath. The picture of her in his mind is so clear. He opens his mouth to whisper, but nothing comes out.

He doesn't even know her name.

******

Until next time...

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

Taglist:

@ccab @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @deniseinmn @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love @deltafalax @atleastpleasetelephone @cinnamoroll-things @burnthheparaphilia @jhoneybees @cattcb @everythingelvispresley @returntopresley @searchingforgravity

#elvis presley #elvis #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis presley fic #elvis smut #elvis fanfiction #elvis fic #elvis x annabelle #elvis x oc #elvis presley smut #elvis presley x oc #Elvis Presley x Annabelle Martin #a house that has everything

20 notes · View notes

risingsoleil · 1 day

Note

The teenager drabble of the AU collection is one of my favorites. Could you let us know how was it when Lin finally agreed to be Tenzin's girlfriend? I'm in serious need of some fluff here

Hi anon~ sorry for taking so long to answer. It took me a while to figure out what might have happened when Tenzin asked Lin out.

Nothing went according to his plan.

A sudden storm swept across the city, ruining Tenzin's picnic date for Lin. He thought he was about to have a heart attack asking if she wanted to go out to dinner instead. By some miracle, she agreed. Maybe she said yes because he asked over the phone and she had no idea he was sweating bullets.

As soon as they hung up, Tenzin practically screamed into his pillow with joy. Aang knocked and opened the door. "Are you okay?"

Tenzin coughed and gave a thumbs up. "Yes, I'm okay."

Aang gave him a look, a smile growing at the flushed pink on his son's face. "Is it something related to a girl?"

"No, Dad. Just...it's nothing."

"O-okay," Aang replied sing-songy, closing the door. "I hope you have a betrothal necklace ready for Lin."

"DAD!!" He doesn't wallow in the embarrassment for too long. Peering out the window, the rains are insistent and neverending. If he's going to go on a date, he better get everything in order.

He manages to get a dinner reservation at a casual restaurant. He's been there before with Lin and his siblings last year, and they all enjoyed it.

He knows that the flower shops should still be open, if he hurries. One bouquet of panda-lillies, and yellow roses. Lin loves yellow roses because they remind her of sunshine and spring.

Well, as it turns out, most of the flower shops closed because some of the streets are flooding with a feet of water. Tenzin visits every single one, hoping and praying for one to have at least a few panda-lillies and yellow roses. None of them do. They were all sold out or packed away due to the sudden storm.

Biting his lip, Tenzin points at all the pink and red roses, carnations, and orchids.

"I'll take them all."

If he can't get Lin panda lillies or yellow roses, he'll buy her half a flower shop.

But he doesn't think how he'll protect the flowers on his way to pick up Lin. The rain doesn't show any signs of stopping, but fortunately, Oogi is with him on this stressful journey.

No matter how much he airbends, Tenzin keeps getting soaked and drenched by the downpour. He bends off the water one last time as he stands in front of the Beifong residence. Tenzin tries to create an air bubble to keep the flowers as dry as possible.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The door opens and Tenzin's heart melts and tumbles with joy.

Lin is dressed in a soft pink cheongsam, with the subtle tint of blush on her cheeks and a rosy lipstick. Her hair is curled much neater, and there's a pearl hairpin in her hair.

'I should have made the betrothal necklace already.'

"You look...wow," he whispers, eyes locked on her outfit.

Lin shifts and avoids his eyes, trying not to smile too hard. "Thanks..." She studies him and his usual robes. "You look dry."

"Huh?" He peers down at himself. "Oh, yeah. It's raining. A lot. Super hard."

"Yeah."

Tenzin feels his palms getting sweaty. "Uh, if you don't want to go out tonight, it's ok because of the--"

"No, I want to go out tonight," Lin insists. "I got all dolled up anyway. I don't want to waste it."

All Tenzin can do is nod, and he extends out his arms. "Um, this is also for you."

Lin catches the overly large bouquets of flowers. "Oh, thanks. They're really nice."

"I, um," he rubs the back of his neck, hoping he doesn't sound like an idiot, "I couldn't find any yellow roses or panda lillies, so...I just bought everything this old man had."

Lin takes in every detail of the flowers, a smile growing on her face. "I still love it. Thanks for getting these, Tenz."

"Of course," he says tenderly, feeling his own happiness peeking through. "Uh, do you want to leave the flowers here so that they don't get ruined in the rain?"

"Sure."

Maybe things are looking up for them, despite the storm.

They have Oogi to help them get across the city. Tenzin has an umbrella for Lin.

It breaks mid-flight and Lin starts to get wet. Tenzin makes sure Oogi is steady before hopping in the back and trying to dry off Lin.

"I'm sorry! I thought this umbrella would be okay--"

"Just dry me off when we get to the restaurant," Lin orders, pressing her palm at her forehead to keep her makeup intact. "I'll just keep getting soaked."

Tenzin bites his lip. "We're almost there, I promise."

Dinner should be okay. They're only a few minutes away.

They've made it and Tenzin draws out as much water as he can. But Lin is instantly touching her hair. It's frizzed a bit from the neat curls that he saw 20 mins earlier. Lin pats it down and tries to curl it with her own fingers to tame it.

When the young teens look at the door, they see the sign:

"CLOSED. Diner was flooded. We will reopen in two days. We apologize for the inconvenience."

Grey eyes read the words.

Left to right.

Left to right again.

Lin shrugs. "Well, we can--"

"Are you fucking kidding me?! First the weather, then the flowers, now this?! What the hell, universe?!"

"Don't worry about it, Tenz. We can probably grab some street food around the corner."

Tenzin groaned and he buried his face into his hands, rubbing. "I don't want you to have street food! I want you to have a nice dinner or a picnic on the top of the park hill."

"We can do that another day then."

"No. Ughhh!" he storms up at the door, glaring at the sign. "I wanted to ask you to be my girlfriend on the perfect date, with the perfect flowers, and perfect food. But now it's ruined!"

Suddenly, he's spun around and hands grip his robes, yanking him down. Warm and soft lips collide against his and it takes Tenzin a few moments to realize that Lin Beifong is kissing him. Lin exhales slowly, her breath sweeping across his cheeks and rustling his eyelashes. She pulls away and Tenzin feels like he drank an entire barrel of cactus juice.

Her body is only inches away from his, and he wants so desperately for that gap to diminish.

"You..you're...my girlfriend."

Lin smirks and Tenzin notices how her lipstick has smeared slightly, just outside the natural outline of her lips. And he wants to smear it more, until it disappears completely on his own.

"Am I?"

"Huh?" He tilts his head. "Wait, did I ask you?"

Lin shrugs.

"Do you want to be my girlfriend?"

Her arms wrap around his neck and Lin stands on her tiptoes, pressing her lips against his again.

"Does that answer your--"

The last thing Lin expects is for Tenzin to pick her up and run into the rain. Her legs wrap around his waist as the rain descends upon them, and Tenzin creates an air funnel, blasting them into the air.

"Lin Beifong is my girlfriend!" Tenzin exclaims to the heavens, and Lin tightens her hold on him as the earth beckons to her feet again. The rain pelts harder onto them as if heaven gives its blessing to them.

"Tenzin!" Lin yelps, the fabric of their clothes clinging to their skin.

The airbender promptly and safely lowers them both to safety. As soon as Lin's feet are planted on the earth, Tenzin cups both sides of her face and pulls her for a kiss.

He pulls away, grinning. "I promise to be a good husband."

Lin laughs and gives him a look. She pokes his forehead. "You keep skipping steps, Airhead."

"I can't think straight."

"Obviously. Your head is in the clouds."

His hands wrap around her waist, pulling her closer to him. "Then bring me back to earth," he murmurs, gazing into her eyes.

For the next ten minutes, the earthbender and airbender seal their relationship beneath the storm. Sudden bursts of energy command their bodies to run through the streets, dancing and spinning under the rain. Part of Lin's makeup runs a little, but Tenzin doesn't care.

Lin Beifong is his girlfriend.

And Lin was right. They do find an alley of street food vendors open, with plastic covers to protect their customers from the brunt of the storm.

Lin eats a chicken skewer and Tenzin has a veggie skewer.

Tenzin reaches over to hold Lin's hand under the table.

#linzin #lin beifong #tenzin #tlok #linzin au #quick answer became a whole fic haha

22 notes · View notes

iinoyb · 1 day

Text

Hello can I offer you an omegaverse arranged marriage Techno/Ranboo AU in these trying times?

Ranboo is the prince of a kingdom, heir to the throne. He is also an alpha. The rules of this country are that a royal cannot claim the crown before they have a mate, which in noble circles usually happens from the age of 20 upward, with most being mated by the age of 25 or so. They're often arranged marriages, with the omega getting little say in the matter.

Ranboo's parents died when he was younger. He has a capable regent who has been leading the country with his input, but as he turns 20 he is eager to get a mate so he can get the throne.

As is custom, a bunch of nobleborn omegas who are unmated are brought to parade in front of Ranboo, each hoping to win his favor and be the future queen of the country. Ranboo tells himself that he has little interest in who his mate is (normally his parents would pick for him anyway, Ranboo hates the decision anxiety), as he's more concerned with the whole coronation thing.

Until his eyes fall on an omega who stands out a little from the rest.

The omega in question is probably the oldest there at 24 years of age. He is tall for an omega (though still several inches shorter than Ranboo), more muscled than omegas usually are (though it doesn't completely hide the more curved, soft edges of the typical omega physique). He has scars, and long pink hair in a half-updo with braids, and he is wearing a long, red dress with details of lace, a bodice that hugs his chest a little too tight, and a high slit in the side that reveals maybe a bit too much of those powerful thighs that could crush Ranboo's head like a grape.

Ranboo might be an alpha but this poor guy is whipped.

So he has an instant interest, that only heightens as he interacts with the omega and gets to experience that dry wit, the clever mind, the spirited nature. He has non-traditional hobbies for an omega: horseback riding, archery, sword fighting. This is an omega unlike any Ranboo has ever met. One that isn't looking to bow down to an alpha ruler.

Obviously, not all omegas are completely submissive, but in the noble cirlces most omegas are raised on more traditional values. So this one is an outlier.

His name is Techno from house Blade.

Ranboo's advisors try to disuade him from the match. They say there are some nasty rumors about Techno. Common belief is that Techno was mated at age 18 like most omegas are, to a young alpha from a noble family. The alpha in question was a not good person though, and a not good mate. He was abusive, and evil, and wanted his omega to be a sex slave but nothing more.

Rumor has it that Techno snapped and killed the alpha when he couldn't stand it anymore.

(Rumor would be correct.)

The matter was more or less swept under the rug, but no other alpha would consider giving Techno a second look. A lot of them were scared to end the same as Techno's original mate. Others didn't bother with an omega who wasn't a virgin anymore, who had been bitten and marked and soiled by another alpha once. Others were disgusted and turned off by the idea of a mate who was so independant and not submissive. And maybe a very few actually were traditional enough to believe that omegas really should be just sex slaves, so they weren't keen on Techno either.

But Ranboo has decided. This is the omega he wants. He's sold. Head over heels, "mommy? sorry.... mommy?" vibes.

The marriage is arranged (and slightly against Techno's will initially) though Ranboo knows that he wants to do right by Techno and win his trust, slowly peeling back layer by layer, and showing Techno how nice it can be to have a good mate.

And hey, maybe eventually Techno even trusts him enough to show his softer, submissive side. Because trust me Techno definitely has one ;)

#bottom technoblade #bottomblade #techboo #techno/ranboo #musings

20 notes · View notes

thechaoticarchivist · 16 hours

Text

Pumpkin Spice and Everything Nice | Levi Ackerman X Reader

→ Crossposted on A03 ←

Word Count: 2,250

Pairing: Levi Ackerman X gn!Reader

Content Warnings: None - Just fluff; no Y/N used, 'they' pronouns for reader, modern AU

Summary: Levi Ackerman could never understand the obsession with pumpkin spice, but it did always seem to make you happy, so he tolerated it.

Author’s Note: I really have to give thanks to @amywritesthings, because this whole story idea appeared because of some silly comments due to this post over who would hate pumpkin spice season the most.

It always seemed that when school supplies started flooding the stores, there became a weird, immediate need for people to have autumn everything, and that tended to irritate a specific tea shop owner to no end.

Starting as early as August most years, Levi found himself cutting off questions about cinnamon and pumpkin flavored drinks with a curt ‘no’. He tolerated the question better from new customers, but it was the regulars asking that really set his teeth on edge.

Specifically - there was a bespeckled brunette scientist that made an appearance every afternoon with their partner for a Masala Chai Black tea before the two of them headed off to their graveyard shift doing who knows what. The scientist would order their usual drink, and then immediately follow up by asking obnoxiously when the new fall flavors were dropping, like they hadn’t been coming to the tea shop for years.

They then always cackled wildly at Levi’s annoyed expression, and their partner usually left a larger tip in apology.

For the life of him, he could not figure out the obsession behind this time of year. It wasn’t that the drinks were bad (although they were arguably not his favorite), but it was the fact that when the summer seemed to wane, this particular flavor arrived and locked everyone in a chokehold, suffocating and tainting all flavors of drink, food, and candle with it’s scent until peppermint seemed sweep in to do the same in the winter.

At least Levi could tolerate the smell of peppermint.

August and September slipped away one quiet day at a time. As the weather turned chilly and the leaves switched into their reds and golds, the questions of ‘pumpkin spice’ and ‘cinnamon’ only increased, and so did the black-haired manager’s daily headache.

He couldn’t exactly deny the slight increase of profits they saw between now and Valentine’s Day (the third of the weird drink obsessions he dealt with every year, chocolate flavors closely following pumpkin spice and peppermint), but he didn’t see the joy in the season or the smell as others did. It was just another time of year. One that darkened the skies earlier and made people move a little quicker when they were out and about.

Truthfully, the start of the ‘Bers’ (as you called it, always laughing at your own pun,) usually sent Levi more into solitude than it did any other time of the year. He spent the holidays with his mother and uncle, of course, but it was also a reminder to him that just another year had passed and what truly had he to show for it?

He had to admit that it had grown on him recently, though. Ever since you had made room for yourself in some of the space in his grumpy heart around this time last year.

“Kirstein, go flip the sign, will you?”

The two-tone haired barista nodded with a yawn, making his way to the front, one hand scratching his hair. The younger man let out a groan at the sight of the line already outside. He clicked his tongue, a habit he had picked up from the owner. “Do you think they’re all here for that new pie flavor already?”

“It’s not going to be available until Monday, so they can wait.”

“Maybe we should tell your partner to cool it on the posts on Instagram for a bit?” Jean’s blood turned cold with the look coming from the gray eyes behind the counter. He mumbled a quick apology.

“They’re work on our social media has significantly helped retain our customer base. They know what they are doing.”

“Yeah, but maybe they could tone it down with the fall..?” Another glare sent the barista blushing, and he turned to fiddle with the door lock and the sign as he was asked.

The crowd of morning commuters slipped quickly into the cafe and out of the chilled morning air, filling up the space with body heat and quiet conversation. Two lines formed, led by regulars who had been coming here often enough that Levi had their teas already brewing as the doors opened. He found himself strangely thankful for them, as they always seemed to tame the initial chaos of opening.

A tall, blonde history teacher who consistently ordered a matcha before he headed off to a room full of rambunctious teenagers for the day. A lively redhead that was a secretary for some larger corporation and always seemed to already have too much energy before she received her Gyokuro green tea. A tired looking doctor who preferred the typical English breakfast black tea to start his day before his long shift.

But once those few consistencies in the shop’s morning routine passed through and back out into the crisp air to their next location, the headache began.

Because it didn't matter that the advertisement you made said “NEW APPLE CINNAMON PIE - SEPT 23!”, or that you had decorated the chalkboard menu behind the counter in a similar fashion with “SEPTEMBER 23” written under it, people kept asking.

You had chastised Levi and Jean both before, that their response of ‘Can’t you read?’ was not an appropriate answer to the question, and instead to politely just remind them which day it would be coming, but it always seemed to become harder and come out a little harsher from both men as the day wore on.

Levi’s patience would always run thin by early afternoon when the 50th ‘Will you be having any pumpkin spice drinks soon?’ was asked, especially when, in his opinion, there were much better choices on the menu.

This particular Friday, you had told him that you were getting off early from your own job and would be down to decorate the shop in the afternoon for the launch of the fall flavors coming on Monday. When you had asked him if he had any seasonal decorations, he had pointed you in the direction of the supply closet, but you had become sourly displeased at the little amount that he had in there.

Levi almost rolled his eyes when you appeared with a large box in tow, one that Jean was happy to take from your arms and place on a table. He then immediately went to make your favorite drink, receiving an eye roll from a shopkeeper who was absolutely in no way jealous of the younger man’s attempts to befriend you. None at all.

You went into your normal routine once you were inside, stepping behind the counter to give Levi a quick peck on the cheek and a “Hi, ‘Vi,”, as that was the most amount of affection he allowed while working, and thanking Jean for the steaming travel cup of Roobios Chai.

You then started your rounds, greeting the evening regulars (a young boy and girl who always came to study for a few hours after school, an older bald man that always seemed on edge about the latest news of the city, and a quiet dark haired lad who always had a book, but eyes that seemed to never leave the barista) and checking in on their personal lives - Levi had no idea how you were able to remember such things, but people always seemed happy that you did.

Once finished with checking in with those you knew and introducing yourself to those who you didn’t, you finished up your drink, tossed the cup, and went to the back to pull out a ladder from the storage closet. Next, you began the process of unpacking the box of decorations you had lugged all the way down here, smiling happily at each thing you pulled out and set on the table. Garland leaves, table centerpieces, and cute knick knacks for the counter. It was impressive you were able to fit as much as you did inside.

You spread things throughout the store, a rough map of where you wanted everything, and the customers happily moving around to give you space. They chatted with you about their excitement of things, always willing to lend a hand if needed.

By the end of the night, garland outlined the ceiling, the door, and the register counter, and a cluster of orange, green, and white pumpkins and tea candles sat in the middle of a cream covered doily on each table.

You were just finishing putting up little scarecrows and a couple of stuffed ravens in watchful places as Jean flipped the sign to close and Levi worked on closing out the till.

The three of you worked together to give the place its normal nightly scrub as the quiet jazz that was always playing in the background filled the space around you. It was an easy routine - one that had been trained deeply into the two of you. Jean seemed to go out of his way to help you, though, and Levi wasn’t annoyed by it at all. Whatsoever.

As Jean threw you an easy smile as you chatted, Levi let out a huff that you caught instantly, and you raised an eyebrow in his direction.

“Everything alright, Levi?”

“Fine. Just finish up so we can go home.”

You hummed in agreement, tying up the trash bags that Jean was all too happy to take to the dumpster for you. Once he was out of earshot, you looked over at your boyfriend. “He’s just being nice.”

There was a click of the tongue as a response, and you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. “None of you other employees get you so riled up.”

“None of my other employees openly flirt with you,” he deadpanned.

You rolled your eyes, walking up behind him and wrapping your arms around his neck. You planted a gentle kiss under his ear and lowered your voice. “You’re the only one for me, ‘Vi. I’m not going anywhere.”

He stopped counting bills, raising one hand to give one of your arms a light squeeze, his way of acknowledging your statement.

When Jean came back in, you made sure to hang on to Levi just a little longer, making it clear where your loyalties lie, and you could feel Levi’s shoulders relax just slightly underneath your arms.

Once everything had been locked up, all cups and machinery cleaned for the next day, the three of you headed to the front door.

"Don’t forget, I’m stealing Levi for the day tomorrow, so you’ll be opening on your own with Eld,” you reminded Jean as the door shut behind you. Levi pulled out his keys to lock up, Jean nodding.

“Are the two of you going anywhere fun?”

“No,” huffed Levi, only to be covered up by your enthusiastic, “Yes!”

“Hange and Moblit invited a group of us to the Pumpkin Farm and Festival over in Trost,” you explained with excitement. “And it’s been ages since we’ve seen everyone, so it’ll be a nice day.”

Jean smiled in response, only to swallow the words on his tongue as he caught sight of the shorter man’s face. Levi was holding another set of keys out to him, with a large green and white fuzzy ball hanging from it. “Do not lose my spare key.”

Jean tensed up, barking out “Yes, sir,” a little too loudly as he took the key and put it in his own coat pocket. He knew better than to ask about the keychain - it most likely was something you had put on there.

You reached out, and touched the young man’s arm and gave him a reassuring smile. “I’m sure you’ll do fine tomorrow, Jean, but do call if something happens.”

A nervous smile was given to you in return. “I’m sure we won’t need to call and bother the two of you at all. We have it handled!”

There was a snort from Levi, and you subtly elbowed him.

“It’s a nice evening for a walk, don’t you -”

“Go home, Kirstein.” Levi cut Jean off, putting an arm around your waist and steering you away. You leaned into the touch, a grin creeping across your face from the jealousy you rarely saw from Levi. Briefly, you turned to wave a goodbye at Jean, and then leaned back into your boyfriend’s embrace.

“Do you think he forgot we lived together?” you asked with a giggle.

“Forgot a lot of things if he was that brazen…” Levi trailed off with a huff.

“You’re cute when you’re jealous,” you said with a smile, but that only got you a glare in return.

The majority of your walk was in comfortable silence as you made your way down the maze of roads to the apartment the two have shared for a few months now. You walked up the stairs together, Levi digging out his keys once more to unlock the door to your quaint home.

Once the lock clicked, his hand froze on the knob, causing your eyebrows to furrow in concern. He let out a long sigh.

“You didn’t just decorate the shop, did you?” It was less of a question and more of a statement.

You couldn’t help but grin as you kissed his cheek and pushed the door open wide. The two of you were immediately hit with a wave of cinnamon. “You know me so well.”

No, Levi couldn’t say that he understood this obsession with this time of the year at all, but it made you happy, and for that, he would tolerate you and your pumpkin spice.

Created by @thechaoticarchivist September 2024. Do not repost - reblogs and comments always welcome!

19 notes · View notes