#and soft and kind and all sorts if other sappy shit. I want to be sappy and not be judged for it.

[captainsweet]

I am tired of being a bad bitch. I want to see the world in soft colors. I want to be emotional. I want to laugh like I've never experienced hardship, like I'm not aware of everything. Fuck being aware, I want those giggly moments, and sugary drinks, and silly movies. I want those playful and dramatic reenactments, I want those bonding moments over silly things, stupid moments, that childhood silliness but older. Fuck having to be serious, I want to be silly.

[whitefeathers]

Anon because I’m shy as hell lol but big fan of how you write daddy!butcher because YOU KNOW he gets off on the idea of being like a protector/knight in shining armor. Like he’s gonna be damn sure that you’re safe, even if he gets a wee bit banged up.

dont be shy sweetheart i will NEVER judge u !

also THANK YOU you get it … daddy!butcher is a very very specific guy and honestly? I think he’s pretty much canon, we know he’s got major daddy issues and we know he’s a protector (in his own fucked up way)… it just makes SENSE for him to be a daddy dom !!

more thoughts below the cut - tw for pseudocest/ddlg , daddy!butcher, and daddy issues

he wants so desperately to protect. that’s all he’s ever wanted deep down, even if he thinks he wants revenge or violence or whatever. He’s a rough bastard so all that soppy shite comes out as aggression, but deep deep down he is a protector at his core, and needs to be someone’s knight in shining armor.

When you walk into his life you’re so pure, untainted by the violence and aggression he’s so used to. There’s no greater agenda, no malice to you - you’re just a normal girl, a good girl. That’s not to say you have no personality to you - Billy loves how cheeky you can get, and how sassy you are - but you’re just a good little sweetheart at your core, wanting to be happy and make others happy. That’s part of why Billy’s obsessed with you. You’re just so sweet.

He naturally takes on a parental role in your life, being many years your senior and the leader of his group. Don’t stare at ya phone so much, gonna give yaself a headache. Don’t stay up too late, need a good night’s kip or you’ll be a grumpy cunt tomorrow.

Little things, inconsequential things, that show he cares enough about you to order you around.

He’s sweeter on you than anyone else in his life, letting you hog the hot water in the shower every morning and pretending to be full so you can finish his dessert. He always covers up his kindness with some sort of quip - “ya need the hot water, you smell diabolical,” - but you know it’s because he likes you. The thought alone makes you blush.

He finds out about all the terrible shit your father put you through one night when you’re sharing a bottle of cheap vodka together, just the two of you.

He tells you about his own sperm donor, and laments about how he’s always wanted to be someone’s father figure, their knight in shining armor. He doesn’t mention how it gets him off to have that much control, but not in a clinical way like being a master or a sir. Being a daddy is different. It’s warm, caring, corrupted. It’s a complete control and a complete care that would prove Butcher as the capable, fucked up hero he’s always been.

“That generational trauma bollocks, innit? Want to right the wrongs of me old man. Somethin’ so nice about bein’ a daddy. I’d be fucked though,” he takes a swig from the bottle straight, only wincing slightly before putting it back down on the table and letting his eyes flicker to you. He speaks with drunken candour.

“Always wanted a little girl to take care of, little girlfriend to be mine. Same soft tone of voice when she begs for more cock as when she begs for more sappy fuckin’ cuddles.”

Your heart thuds in your chest. This is all you have ever wanted, all you have ever needed. And Butcher, the hottest older man you’ve ever met, his beard greying and his eyes stern, is basically offering it to you if you’re brave enough to read into the subtext of his words.

“I’ve always wanted to be that,” you whisper. There’s words unspoken in your sentence - always wanted to be that, for you, with you - but the subconscious way you lean closer to Butcher tells him the words you aren’t brave enough to speak.

“That so?” He hums, opening his thick arms for you. An opening, an opportunity for you to take, to cuddle into his chest and let him take control. You look up at him, scared as a deer in headlights but as excited as a puppy in heat, needing the extra guidance, the approval.

“Don’t be shy. Come to daddy.”

When your head meets his chest and your ass meets his lap, all the constant noise in your head dulls into a peaceful silence. His arms wrap around you and he pets your hair, shushing you gently, promising he’s going to keep you out of danger no matter how bloody his knuckles have to get in the process.

This is how it’s always meant to be between the pair of you.

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Two Three Four Five

What the fuck are you even so happy about? You fucked it up. Jesus you both fucked it up. I didn’t even know something like that could happen.

Eddie smiles at his bedroom ceiling in the dim light, “it was amazing.”

You hugged. Congratulations, you hugged a boy. Eddie can feel Billy roll his eyes.

“You don’t get it.”

There’s nothing to get, because nothing actually happened. Because somehow you both fucked up something as simple as kissing.

Eddie laughs, “you mad Billy? Mad you didn’t get to make out with Harrington?”

Fuck off. I don’t give a shit.

“Uh hu,” Billy is finally quiet. He leaves Eddie alone, lets him grin up at the clean ceiling from his clean new bed, in the room Steve set up for him. Filled with the things Steve went out of his way to save from the old trailer. There’s no beeping here, no hospital smells, he’s warm and comfortable and he’s full of Steve’s casserole and mashed potatoes.

The scent of Steve’s aftershave lingering in his nose, on his cheek.

They were going to kiss, Eddie’s pretty sure they were. They were both so close, heads tilted and eyes wide, but someone twitched wrong, something happened, both of them simultaneously sublimating whatever it was they were doing into a hug instead. Steve’s arms wrapped carefully around Eddie’s middle, conscious of the still healing wounds, his face tucked carefully against Eddie’s neck, ‘never done anything with a guy before.’ The whispered confession from Steve Harrington, the soft lips and sharp stubble against Eddie’s neck.

A confession that means he was going to do something with a guy. Or at least was interested in doing something with a guy, and that guy was, presumably, Eddie.

An incredible turn of events, really.

‘Never done anything with anyone,’ Eddie had whispered back, earning himself a snort of a laugh. God natured though. Happy.

‘We can go slow.’

And Steve had left with a big sappy smile and a dorky little finger tip wave and a promise they would hang out tomorrow.

Eddie sighs. Then grabs a pillow so he can scream into it. And then he’s kind of just grinning, laughing a little, he’s just so fucking happy.

Jesus christ, you fuck ups are actually made for each other.

“I hope so.”

What is this we’re doing now.

Eddie ignores him, sets up his DM shield, his books, his dice. Unpacks his pencils, his notes. Eddie always plays it fast and loose, he’s got a vague plan sure. As long as he knows the plan and the motivations of the bad guys, everything else falls into place pretty easily.

So this is the nerd thing you’ve been planning for.

He wants this one to be good; first game with Will the Wise present, after all. Steve’s in the kitchen, left Eddie to set up the finishing touches. They’re going to hang out and watch a movie once all the kids have gone, and Eddie’s pretty sure he couldn’t have planned a more perfect day if he tried. Steve’s even making them snacks. He’s done something to the dining room table to make it even bigger, unfolding some extra hidden bit of wood to make it longer; wild rich people shit.

The bell tolls; the kids are at the door, and Eddie can’t suppress his joy at having all the kids here together, everyone alive and well. Well, except for Max, which is shitty, but all the kids are going to go and visit her after this, so that’ll be nice for her.

He wants to prance to the front door, leap and skip and play he’s so buzzing with excitement for this, but one single hop is enough for his body to remind him, pretty sharply, that he is absolutely not ready for that sort of nonsense just yet, so he walks instead.

Jesus christ, this kid is a straight up savage.

Lady Applejack stares Eddie down over his DM shield.

Could have done with her against the Mindflayer.

“I’m going to attack.”

Of course she is.

Eddie claps joyously, “everyone roll for initiative.”

Eddie’s standing now, can’t possibly just sit with all this going on, “and that is a hit, his mighty war hammer crashing into your armor with a resounding smack, for one D10 of damage…”

“Dustin,” Mike hisses, “how much health do you even have?”

Dustin shakes his head, worried, but doesn’t answer. Lucas is hanging onto Dustin's shoulder, looking down at Dustin’s character sheet. Eddie’s dice clatters on the table behind the DM shield, Lucas signals ‘five’ to will with his fingers.

The whole table collectively holds it’s breath as Eddie watches his die roll and settle on a nine. “It’s a glancing blow! Your armor must absorb some of the hit as you take four points of damage!”

Eddie, no, don’t lie. Kill the little shit-you're too soft on them.

Will immediately starts on his turn, so excited, “I cast Cure Light Wounds!”

Of course he does.

Why is this taking them so long?

The most simplistic puzzles are the best.

Literally all the have to do is match the colors. I can’t believe how dumb they are.

Eddie does his best to hold in the snort. Doesn’t quite succeed and earns a scathing look from Erica. Yep. They are over thinking it a little.

This is so frustrating, how can you even sit through this.

Watching them struggle is the fun. They’ll get it in a minute.

We’re going to grow old and die here.

They sit and listen to the kids argue a little longer, coming up with wilder and wilder theories on how to solve what is the simplest color match game Eddie could come up with.

Baldie is staring at us.

Don’t call her that, Eddie’s reply is reflexive, but Billy is right. El is watching them.

Eddie isn’t surprised when she lingers. Deliberately makes it so that she’s the last standing on the porch. The boys shot off on their bikes, but El, Mike and the ferocious Lady Applejack are hitching a ride with Nancy.

She waves to him through the wind shield, then turns, talking to Mike.

“Do you talk to him?”

No preamble. Just those big fucking eyes looking up at Eddie. Knowing. A little kid should not look like that.

“Yeah, all the time.” In his mind, Billy is still and quiet. Watching warily.

“Is he alright?”

“He’s still a massive dick, so, I guess so, yeah.”

“Does Max know?”

She cuts right to the heart of it, this kid, “she’s the only one who knows.”

She nods, “for now,” and then leaves, running to get in the car without a care in the world.

She’s terrifying.

I know, fucking great isn’t it?

Part seven

[lnfours]

summer loving ⎸ t.h (teaser)

summary: your mom and tom’s mom grew up together, swearing that their kids would be life long friends. and it was true, the holland boys were a special part of your life. but on the annual trip to their beach house this summer, everything feels different. and that’s because it is.

au:  based on the book and tv show ‘the summer i turned pretty’ by jenny han. childhood friends to lovers

wc: a nice intro with 1k words

warnings: none yet, maybe some jealousy, hiding feelings for one another, some fluff and a bit of angst if you squint

pairing: tom holland x fem!reader

masterlist ⎸ chapter one ⎸ listen

the summer breeze was warm, salty air as the sun met the water of the ocean. you sat down on the sand, hands brushing over the towel you had laid down so you didn’t get sand all over your clothes. you had been reading, enjoying the peace and quiet as the sun went down. occasionally, people would pass you and smile as they walked the beach with their loved ones or their dogs, but not many people bothered you. 

you were too lost in daydreaming and watching the sky change from blue to a mix of pink, purple and red to realize someone sat down beside you. when you saw a flop of brown curls out of your peripheral, you realized it was just tom.

you and your brother and the holland brothers had been best friends ever since both of your moms had you. you were all like one big family at this point, tom and his brothers being almost inseparable between your brother which would sometimes leave you to hang out with the mom. you we’re complaining, the boys would do their own things sometimes and you and the moms would go get your nails done together or go shopping.

but, the thing with tom was that he’s always had a soft spot for you. whenever the older boys picked on you or was a little out of line, he would always hang back to make sure you were okay or to wipe your tears away and to remind you that you’re ‘way better than those losers’. 

which would make sense as to why you felt yourself growing attached to tom after the years went by, but this summer it felt different. a lot different. and you couldn’t tell if it was a good thing or a bad thing.

“hey,” he smiled, looking over at you, “knew i’d find you here. you’re always on the beach on your first day.”

you sent him a small smile back, “yeah, i enjoy the peace and quiet.”

his face dropped and he moved to stand again, “sorry, i can go if you-”

“no, no, it’s okay,” you reassured him as he lowered himself back to the ground, “it’s okay. was getting kind of lonely out here, i must admit.”

he nodded, looking down at the book on the towel, “reading anything interesting?”

you shrugged, “depends, would you find a romance between a hockey player and a girl he goes to college with interesting?”

he scrunched his nose, “you were always the one who was into sappy shit like that, no wonder you always hung out with the moms.”

you rolled your eyes as you both let out a laugh, “yeah, i guess so.”

you didn’t notice the way his eyes softened as he looked over at you and studied your side profile. tom was different this summer, and you thought it had to do something between him and his girlfriend breaking up, but he didn’t really seem all that upset whenever he was mentioned. you wanted to pick his brain, be his support if he was going through something.

but just like the other holland boys, he was stubborn as hell. you knew getting him to open up would be a battle. you figured he knew if he ever needed to talk to you, he could. it was unspoken, but the two of you were the closest of the rest of the kids, so it just made sense. 

“you should take a picture, it’ll last longer.” you smirked over at him, catching him staring. he snorted back a laugh, fishing his phone out of his hoodie as he raised the camera to you.

you let out a laugh, covering your face, “i didn’t actually mean it!”

“oh, come on! i’m sure you’d love a candid to post on your instagram, make you look all sorts of mysterious.”

you shook your head, smiling at the camera as he snapped the picture, “perfect.”

“let me see,”

he snatched his phone back as he raised it over his head, “nope! for my eyes only.”

“tom! come on!” you laughed as you fought with him for the phone. he rose to his feet suddenly before wiggling it over your head.

“you gotta catch me if you wanna see it.” 

you were suddenly up and moving, ready for the challenge. you chased him down the beach as the both of you laughed, the two of you tumbling into the sand in a fight over the phone once more. it was playful, teasing almost as he laughed at you. you hadn’t noticed you were on top of him until your eyes met. you felt your heartbeat quicken as he quickly looked at your lips before locking his eyes back with yours.

suddenly it was like the air grew thick, like you couldn’t breathe. you felt him place a hand on your cheek, the phone now long forgotten about as you let him guide you down to his face. his lips brushed yours, his nose pressing against yours and you could feel his minty breath fan your face. you had been dreaming about this happening for years, your heart pounding against your chest as you thought about what it’d finally feel like to kiss tom holland.

that was until a voice pulled the two of you apart, you scrambling off of him in efforts to hide the fact that you were about to kiss him. 

and there stood sam with crossed arms, an unamused look on his face, “dinner’s ready. the moms want you two back.”

“yeah, yeah, we’re coming.” tom said, his own head spinning as he looked over at you. you sent him a tight lipped smile as he offered you his hand to help you up out of the sand.

“thanks,” you mumbled, grabbing your things from the spot you had been sitting at.

“yeah, no problem,” he said, “c’mon, the dinner rolls are the best when they’re fresh out of the oven.”

you nodded, following him back up the path and to the house wondering how you got into this situation with the oldest holland boy.

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[havg02]

Fem France headcanons

Judging from Francis the canon counterpart and himaruya describing her as snobby, argumentative and more protective, I would guess she is like a big sister or like an aunt kind of girl since she's pretty grown compared to others especially Alice and if she had a soft side she would be sappy, sentimental, good-natured and gentle. That being said, she would that friend who'll welcome you into her arms affectionately act so vain, fawning off her culture and beauty. Or she's the one to give you advice while doing your hair while saying how lovely you are then she'll be ferociously yelling profanities in French and throwing herself at an offender, protecting you.

While François, Gilbert and Antonio were sleazy troublemakers--Francine, Isabel and Julien are like the annoying loud girls in your class who talk shit, do makeup or prank others during meetings. Amelia finds it funny like she wants to join in with their shenanigans while Alice disapproves and complaints that they're being bad influence in Amelia, but Francine just says it cant be helped while enjoying how annoyed she is. The three girls are always partying, having some sort of girl's sleepover or going out for a girl's night out like a picnic and are just inseparable. Julien was the one to brought yo the idea to make a truce of which neither of them shall ever do in order to keep the friendship going well, which Francine thought was funny bc it felt like Julien was a school kid yet she loved it bc it helped her feel young.

Julien is constantly scolded by her sister for not acting her age and doing reckless things but Francine couldn't have her any other way, it was because of her she is reminded that she can still act and do what she wants without worry and still feel like how she used to be in the past when she was still strong.

Francine actually is stuck back in time when she used to be powerful, like she still dreams of being cool but now struggles with meeting modernism bc of it. France is still full of houses that have stayed and looked exactly how they used to be years ago which is super cool since it would feel like a big museum just simply walking through the street, but now she's very worried and conscious of them bc they're so old that they're beginning to disintegrate slowly to the point she has to get them renovated or stabilised before they actually crumble.

The 1700s was the worst time of Francine,’s life, she was practically being starved yet forced to wear all flashy with big gowns and decorative wigs at the time (reference to the lower class suffering and royalty spending on themselves). France culture was always seen as luxurious with the dazzling outfits, fancy food..etc. and while she was proud of it, the strictness and stuffy rules that came with royalty was making her struggle badly that it was just not for her. On the other hand in comparison with her rival Alice and her monarchy, is that Alice is a naturally strict refined lady who always sticks to the rules and does her duties well as a lady like her should, hence why theres still monarchy in England.

But unlike her Francine wasn't like that. She was more about appreciating and admiring beautiful things while living life which she could hardly feel when she barely got to make any decisions for herself and she REALLY needed a break. So when pple started to cause a revolution, that was when she finally snapped and take this chance to never go back to royalty, changing to simple and clean outfits for a fresh start (after the revolution pple started wearing simple white clothing and she hadn't looked back at royalty since that day. She still dresses up fancy ofc bc of the past, she was just wanting to wear it for the better. 

And that's how her main fashion style becomes. France is all about fashion and it's kind of expecting of Francine to dress up like she's on the catwalk in a fashion show in Paris everyday but actually to my own shock pple online have been saying that in France, if you dress luxuriously or in a way that it looks like you've obviously put in effort into your appearance you may be judged for ‘showing off’ and while I'm kind of disappointed bc who doesnt love dressing up, I headcanon Francine to dress in a Chic style which makes sense bc while pple think chic is dressing very nicely, Chic is actually about dressing up casually while still looking naturally cool at the same time. Like as if the style is mostly of you, not only the clothes itself. 

But if there's an event or any special occasion you best believe she'll make sure she stands out, although she's almost half naked that she has to be forced to change her outfit. At least everyone got a glimpse of what she wanted them to see.

People assume she would also use lots of expensive luxurious makeup and skincare products like Lancome and Clinique as well but she actually is all about less is more so she would use drugstore makeup which if you know anything about French drugstore products it's that it's ELITE though she does do use some fancy products from Chanel and Dior, especially their perfume. So her she'll just simply wash her face with soap, put on some few amazing products and just go on with her day looking great as ever. 

When she first met Alice as kids, they'd bicker with Alice telling her to fuck off yet still seeing her as the only friend she knows and Francine teasing her endlessly yet actually viewing her as a playmate and looked after her. Until things started to change and they actually had many battles (screaming insults, pulling each other's hair, insulting each other’s cultures, Francine never backing down in an argument or flaunting her older age to act as if she were greater, and Alice pummeling her everytime she tries her or shaming her patronisingly with her purity culture as if she were a gross whore). 

Still has rivalry with Alice to this day ofc, even if things are more settled now Francine still insists that French should have been the default language of the world and Was actually jealous and pissed off when losing to Alice who was more fit to be a royal and single handedly became the top of the world by herself. You could imagine her getting irked by Alice deliberately ignoring her while holding her head up high in pride as if she were just a bug under her and huffing how irritating it was while punching pillows and whining dramatically. Isabelle and Julien had to listen to all that for soooooo long as well. They were the most pettiest girls you'd ever meet--so much so they can't go a single conversation without one dryly asking about their cooking and the other snapping sarcastically about their creepy ways. 

Though that doesn't mean they don't visit each other and chat together while playing each other's hair like a girl's hangout. If anything, when they're going out somewhere with everyone they'll still be sitting with each other like bffs or something. Francine often likes to remind Alice she's known to be more beautiful but if she ever sees a man say anything about Alice's or any of their girl's appearance, she will strangle or deglove their faces with her teeth bc even if she's always flirting with them, she CANNOT stand men thinking they can say or do whatever they to women with her entire soul and will die by that. Meanwhile Alice is dead panning like ‘you know I could've handled that on my own’.

She takes a lot of pride of her culture and relies on it to know or feel like she's the best, that has probably made her have some fear or something that she'll be something that's less if she's unable to do them. Maybe even have a heart attack if someone from another country doesn't know about her. At meetings or any other time where to meet the countries she'll always be handing out a red rose when greeting them and to everyone it's kind of corny but nonetheless a nice thing to recieve bc who doesn't love roses? And that's enough for Francine really, she likes it when people are surprised delightfully by her.

She treats Madeleine like a daughter and was so excited when first getting her, to think she was her first sort of student and vowed to help her grow up nicely. So when Alice takes Madeleine, Francine was so lonely that she hoped to see her again when she got the chance to help Amelia gain her independence, thinking Madeleine was going to take the chance to also leave with Amelia to come back to her as well. But she was hurt and heartbroken to find out Madeleine only took Alice's side as Alice had been treating so well Madeleine didn't feel like she wanted to really leave. 

Francine thought she had done something wrong or done not as good as Alice was doing that she was kind of depressed bc even though she gets attention easily and had Julien and Isabel, she was still lonely like she needed a close related companion with her. You could imagine her relief after Madeleine gets her independence and Francine approached her carefully at their first meeting together, asking how she been and stuff, and Madeleine smiles like she used to do and says how she still missed her before going to hangout and chat to catch up on stuff. At first Francine had this new type of resentment against Alice but now after hearing how nice Alice was to Madeleine compared to Amelia, she just let it go since at least Madeleine lived happily.

[acourtofthought]

I chuckled reading your last anon response, as a gywnriel and elucien I too cringe when I read super cheesy headcanoms, mostly because elriels are so cheesy, I don't want casual readers grouping us with elries. Don't get me wrong, I hope for some sweet, meaningful moments, these are romance books after all but my gooooood, have you read some of the things elriels write; I get second hand embarrassent - like there's cute and romantic and then there's straight up cringey, creepy and cheesy. Also, I hate HATE how they've literally rewritten Azriels personality and turned Elain as a damsel in distress, whos only purpose is to cater Azriel. Like, do they not see that the female is the prize not the male? Like as of right now, Azriel isn't good enough for anyone until he works on himself.

I keep trying to put into words what's "cheesy" versus romantic and I'm struggling to do it because it really is just a feeling when it happens. Where you do want to cover your eyes, groan and look away because it's so corny. SJMs couples have their romantic moments but they usually read as sweet and playful or sarcastic and loving. And they're never out of character for the couple. Like, the way the characters present themselves to others is not drastically different from the way the couple is behind closed doors (i.e., Az is sort of closed off to everyone on a regular basis so it's difficult for me to imagine him writing poetry and being a sappy puppy dog behind closed doors). Rhys is playful and suggestive towards Feyre whether it's in front of everyone or just the two of them. And Nesta is the kind to lovingly smack Cassian on the side of the head in front of the group or when they're alone. I like your comment that "the female is the prize, not the male." That's the point of books targeted at a female audience. We want the female to be the one who is worshipped for her bravery, her strength, her beauty (because to him she's always the most beautiful thing), her intelligence, and so on. I definitely don't want to read about a fantasy heroine whose purpose in the book is to cater to the whims to the male. Equals? Sure. But not where he gets to overshadow her value and E/riels seem to turn Elain into Azriel's permanent sidekick, and beyond that, the female to show him the soft, gentle love the sad lonely boy needs. I really dislike the idea that her love is what will show him his worth. That by her choosing him, he'll finally feel good enough. Also, I think E/riels fail to remember some important information about Az: He may have said this: "We're born hearing the song of the wind."

And: "They pull people together. And bring them joy. They are a time to pause and reflect and gather, and those are never bad things." Which sound poetic and meaningful but......... "You get used to the wording, he'd told me earlier. How often did he have to remind himself to use such words? Did "we" and "our" and "us" taste as foreign on his tongue as they did mine?" II don't really know where I fit in anymore." "I've been alive almost five and a half centuries, and I'm not sure of that either," Azriel said. "The Illyrians are pieces of shit." "Because Rhys wants me here. It'd hurt him if I didn't come." Az talks about "we" and "them" but if I'm correctly reading what SJM is telling us, Az doesn't really include himself in those statements. The Illyrians might have been born hearing the song of the wind but it sounds more like Az is parroting back something he's heard and not telling Elain something he feels. He also talks about the joy of holidays but again, he's only there because it means something to Rhys, not because he feels joy over the holiday. All these things that make Az so sweet in their minds and such a good match for Elain don't actually seem to describe Az at all, it's just Az applying knowledge that he's learned from watching others to the situation. At times, Az scares Rhys. At times he scares Feyre. And we know his actions have scared Mor. Cassian says Az is closed off, that he and Rhys have never been able to get him to open up and Az himself admits to not really knowing who he is. He admits to Elain not knowing who he is. This is not a male anyone can fall in love with right now because he doesn't even know himself and the things he does know of himself (the darkness inside of him) he struggles to accept. So all the E/riel moments they like to use feel fake because soft, gentle and poetic Az doesn't seem like the real Az to me. I'm not sure who Az will be once SJM gives him his healing arc but I don't think it's going to look like the version E/riels have created in their minds. They've created a romance between two characters when neither Az or Elain really knows who they are right now.

[qtipcottonbuds]

𝙆𝙄𝙉𝙆𝙏𝙊𝘽𝙀𝙍 '𝟮𝟮 ; 𝙒𝙄𝙏𝙃 𝘼𝙏𝙎𝙐𝙈𝙐 [SEMI-PUBLIC + CLOTHED SEX]

jealous atsumu when someone won’t take no for a answer for yous lot tbh i rushe dthis o balls

warnings ;; possible mild language, jealousy, jealous sex, semi-public sex, clothed sex (sort of), humiliation and slight degradation, rough-ish sex, atsumu is vulgar in this i apologize etc

by qtipcottonbuds 2022. do not repost.

𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗨𝗠𝗨 𝗫 𝗚𝗡!𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥;

“C’mon, answer it. Wouldn’t wanna keep him waitin,’ sweetheart, would ya?”

The mobile phone continues to buzz atop the bedside table, vibrating against the wood; and it’s irritating, grating at his ears, but more than anything, the bright screen flashing intermittently with both the number, and their name, is what gets Atsumu the most. Always ringing near enough to every hour of everyday - you were too soft, too sweet, brushing them off gently - you didn’t want any confrontation. But, Atsumu knew, he knew first hand their intentions.

It was far from innocent.

Keening into his hand, muffling your whines, you insistently shake your head back at him - maybe if he was in your position, Atsumu would consider responding in the same manner you just had. Resisting initially, and attempting to shrug his palm firmly situated across your lips off to stop him; it was adorable, the eagerness of your will to fight back, to push him off. Yet, only to relax in the said hold, complacent and pliable with each roll of his hips, slow and methodical, sinking deeper, kissing your insides. A perverse pacifier.

(People aren’t kind, and Atsumu is far from kind).

“Well, if you ain’t gonna do it, I’ll do it for ya.”

Leaning downwards and grasping onto the mobile, Atsumu swipes across the call button allowing it to connect; a smile, plastered with ill-intent, on his lips. His gaze is heavy, holding your own, and he can tell you hate it. The helplessness, the fear - a restrained pleading to stop - if anything, it was fueling the fire further.

“So, yer the so-called colleague, yeah? Workin’ with them on that project,'' a hum, masked with civility, “What’s with the confusion, m’sure ya know who I am, right? Most people do, when they listen. Are ya any good at listenin?’ Takin’ in information?”

Easing his grasp across your mouth, patting the side of your cheek affectionately, Atsumu rolls his hips yet again, languidly, the fat glans of his cock angling in such a way you abruptly arch up into the touch, your thighs parting wider, almost eagerly. 

“Good, good. I like t’hear that. Love it when people listen, ya’know, makes ya feel heard. Seen. Anyway; I know all about ya. My sweetheart, pretty thing, too nice, too soft - just can’t be mean - but, I can. They told me everythin’. Askin’ ‘em for a date, not leavin’ ‘em alone, even when they said no. That they’ve got a boyfriend. Ya’know what no means, don’t ya?”

Sliding in with an audible squelch, he continues, tutting at the whine you let out.

“Y’wanna know why they were takin’ so long to respond, why they weren’t pickin’ up? ‘Cause we were fuckin,’” the audible spluttering on the other end of the receiver has Atsumu questioning how long he can maintain this facade, playing civil, when he’d rather lay them flat out cold, “I bet, you’ve thought about fuckin’ em too. Haven’t you? Creamin’ yourself over the thought of it, doing sappy shit. I can’t blame ya, I’m the same; but the difference is, I’m the one actually doing it - ya wanna hear it? A little ASMR for ya.”

Thumbing across the circular icon of the ‘speaker’ button, he repositions the mobile directly above the base of his cock, coated in a creamy ring, before dragging his cock back out, resting at the fat slit with a squelch!

Atsumu goes to respond, a petty remark on his lips, but the dial tone that cuts through the line confirms everything.

“I fuckin’ thought as much. Now, where were we, sweetheart?”

[arrowflier]

I'd like to see Ian and Mickey celebrating their 20th anniversary? Being all mature and grown up and realising how lucky they are they're still in love after all those years x

Mickey woke up to a weight over his back, pushing him down into the soft pillow-top mattress. Lips touched the back of his neck, warm and dry, Ian’s breath raising goosebumps on his skin.

“Mmm,” Mickey hummed, rubbing his smile into the pillow. “Good morning, Mr. Milkovich.”

Ian chuckled, a gentle huff of air that moved the hairs on the back of Mickey’s head.

“Good morning to you, Mr. Gallagher,” he murmured back, voice husky from sleep, lips brushing down to Mickey’s shoulder. He pulled the strap of Mickey’s tank top to the side, pressed a kiss to the pale skin it revealed.

“Happy Anniversary, Mick,” he said, kissing it into Mickey’s body. Mickey arched back against him, getting a hand up to hold Ian’s where it still rested on his shoulder.

“Twenty fucking years,” Mickey said proudly, and pushed back until Ian rolled over, letting Mickey do the same.

He moved from stomach to side to back, letting Ian settle back in on top of him once they were face to face. Ian’s bare chest was warm through Mickey’s own shirt.

“Long time, man,” Mickey said softly, reaching up to card gentle fingers through Ian’s hair. It glimmered red in the faint sunlight coming through the curtains, shot through with a few paler streaks that Ian swore were blond, not grey.

“And longer to come,” Ian promised, his smile bright and sleepily content.

They lay there for a moment, watching each other blink, watching each other breathe. Then Ian sighed, and lowered his head, capturing Mickey’s lips in their first real kiss of the morning.

It tasted terrible, but they were long past the days of caring about stale morning breath. The innocent slide of mouths gave way to sucking kisses, chapped lips pulled gently between teeth, soothed with tongues. Ian pulled back with a wet sound, moved his mouth up Mickey’s jaw, and pressed searching lips to the space just under his ear.

Mickey hummed, eyes slipping closed at the warmth of the sensation. The bed was soft under him, Ian comfortable over him, and he wanted nothing more than to live in that moment forever.

Or at least for a little while longer.

Ian had other plans.

“Ready for your present?” he breathed into Mickey’s ear, biting the lobe as Mickey shivered.

“Never thought I’d say this,” Mickey muttered as Ian traced his tongue down the side of his neck, “but I think I’d rather go back to sleep for a bit.”

Ian laughed, burying his face in Mickey’s shoulder, breath cooling the trail his mouth had left.

“I don’t blame you,” he admitted easily, rolling off of Mickey again to lay at his side instead. His arm crossed Mickey’s chest, hand secure around his bicep. “Last night was a mess; I’m ready to sleep for a week.”

“Remind me never to let your daughter go to a concert again,” Mickey said plaintively, turning his head to face Ian’s on the pillow. “I don’t care if we’re supposed to be her safe space or what-the-fuck-ever, picking up a bunch of drink teenagers in the middle of the night is not my idea of a good time.”

“Please,” Ian said, “Like you’d ever tell your daughter no.”

Fair enough.

“But regardless,” Ian continued, “we don’t have too long before the girls are up, and I wanted to give you your present in peace.”

“Fine,” Mickey grumbled, putting on a show of being disappointed. He rolled onto his side, reaching for the drawer of the bedside table, but Ian whacked his hand before he could open it.

“Thought you wanted to give me my present?” Mickey asked, eyebrows raised, but Ian shook his head.

“Not that kind of present, you dolt,” he laughed. “We can do that later, once we have the house to ourselves.”

Ian’s face softened as he bit his lip, eyes darting away from Mickey’s for a brief moment before coming back.

“I, uh,” he said, scratching his chin. “I kinda got you something else.”

“We said we weren’t buying shit, Ian,” Mickey pointed out. “Between tuition and fuckin’ club dues, we ain’t got a lot to spare right now.”

“I know, but…” Ian shrugged. “We had enough for this.”

He leaned over, reaching long arms under the bed, squirming until he found what he was feeling for. With a twist of his shoulders, he was back up on the bed and tossing a small box at Mickey without aiming.

Mickey fumbled it, then snatched it back off the sheets before Ian could see. He turned it in his hands, suspicious, but the twitch of his lips gave him away.

“Go on, open it,” Ian encouraged, scooting closer. “I think you’ll like it.”

Mickey did, untying the tiny bow and lifting the lid off the box with no fuss.

“I went with the modern theme,” Ian told him as he looked inside. “Platinum. Thought that fit us a little better than fine china.”

Mickey didn’t answer, eyes caught on the glint of metal peeking out from under a scrap of cheap tissue paper.

“It’s supposed to represent how strong we are, together,” Ian said as Mickey lifted his gift out of the box, turning it over in his hands. “That we’ve made it this far, overcome shit.” His eyes were on Mickey’s hands. “That we’re still here to stay.”

Mickey held his gift up toward the window, letting the light reflect off the silver surface. Just a keychain, a little metal charm in the shape of a record dangling from a short chain. The word “Always” was engraved along the top curve, and at the bottom, the date of their wedding.

“It’s not really platinum, obviously,” Ian said, twisting the sheet between his fingers. “I couldn’t afford that even if I—”

“Ian,” Mickey cut him off. “Shut up. I love it.”

When their eyes met, Ian was beaming.

“C’mere, you sappy idiot,” Mickey ordered with his own broad grin, and Ian met him with a single, lingering kiss.

Mickey pulled away before it could become anything more.

“Got you somethin’ to,” he said, watching Ian’s eyes from inches away. “’Cept I figured you were the traditional sort, so…” He shrugged. “Guess what you get?”

“Sex?” Ian joked, and Mickey rolled his eyes, standing up and swinging his legs out of bed.

“Not quite,” he answered dryly, opening their closet door and fishing through the dirty clothes on the floor inside. He lifted a much larger box with a muffled oomph, and carried it over to the bed, where he let it fall a bit on heavily onto the mattress in front of Ian.

“Go on,” he started, but Ian hadn’t waited anyway, already tearing off the paper with eager fingers.

“Jeez, you’re like a fuckin’ kid on Christmas,” Mickey laughed, and Ian stuck out his tongue as he pried the cardboard box open.

Ian paused as the contents were revealed, the pushed aside bubble wrap and packing paper to lift out a single, dessert-sized plate.

It was fragile and white, plain in the center, with bursts of blue and pink along the outer, silver-plated edge. The colors swirled together into petals, shaped like—

“Stargazer lilies,” Ian breathed, and his eyes were wet when he lifted them. “Mickey, they’re beautiful.”

“Yeah, well,” Mickey hedged, sitting on the edge of the bed. “So are you, you soft fucker.”

Ian’s breath caught.

“Not the same theme as yours,” Mickey said, gesturing to the plate with a hand that still held his own gift. “But the ideas kind of the same, you know?”

He reached out, took the plate from Ian’s hands.

“You said the platinum was for strength; well this shit’s pretty fragile,” he continued. “But it stays good if you take care of it.” He looked up at Ian. “And we take pretty damn good care of each other.”

“You know that stuff’s not gonna last in this house,” Ian pointed out, voice choked. “We might take care of each other, but we take terrible care of our stuff.”

“Might not even make it through tonight,” Mickey agreed. He traced a finger around the rim of the plate, the flowers there. “But we’re gonna use it anyway.”

He turned, set the plate down on the bedside table, along with his keychain. Hoisted the rest of the box down onto the floor. “We can have nice stuff,” he said as he did, “but I ain’t gonna be one of those people that leaves shit in a cabinet gettin’ all dusty.”

“Nah,” Ian agreed, wiping his leaking eyes. “That really wouldn’t be us.”

Mickey smiled, and leaned in, kissing the corner of Ian’s eye and the happy tears lingering there.

“No it wouldn’t,” he said softly, and then his grin turned wicked.

“And speaking of using things,” he said, flopping down onto his back, arms spread wide. “We should use the rest of the morning to our advantage ‘til the girls get up.” He waggled his eyebrows, glorying in Ian’s wet laugh.

“Come show me what the next twenty years will be like, lover boy,” Mickey challenged.

And climbing over him with a toothy grin, all else forgotten in favor of getting hands on skin, Ian did just that.

[ffamranxii]

HAIKYUU!! COUPLES HEADCANONS

DAISUGA

-Daichi goes to the gym to work out. Suga goes to the gym to ogle Daichi

-Suga has a massive sweet tooth

-Daichi cooks, Suga cleans

-Suga is a little shit who is not above seducing Daichi in public. He can say the most lewd things without batting an eye while Daichi blushes furiously

-Daichi and Kuroo once hooked up at training camp. They do not talk about it

-Daichi is good friends with Michimiya and Kiyoko. Suga is closer to Asahi

-Daisuga rarely fight and are often asked for relationship advice. Daichi tries to discourage this because “guys I didn’t realize Yui had a crush on me or that Suga was in love with me for three years.”

-Daichi can’t dance, won’t dance, and refuses to acknowledge the time he got trashed and twerked

-Suga dislikes his given name unless it’s said by Daichi, who is the only person allowed to call him Koushi

-Suga is extremely flexible. Daichi is not.

-Daichi or Suga getting hit on makes Daichi uncomfortable. Getting hit on amuses Suga, and Daichi getting hit on makes him horny

-It took all of high school for Daisuga to get together, because Daichi is oblivious and Suga assumed Daichi wasn’t into him. Daichi’s dumbness and their mutual pining becomes a fond, shared joke several years later

-Daichi has no gag reflex. 

-Daisuga have a very fat, very orange cat named Ninja. He’s surprisingly fast and agile despite looking like a furry basketball. (Daichi is a dog person and did not even want Ninja at first. He suspects Kuroo had something to do with this. Suga sometimes playfully gets upset because “Ninja likes you better than me, Dai!”)

-Everyone expects Suga to be the dominant one but Suga is more than willing to be submissive for Daichi and has on several occasions

ASANOYA

-Noya gets up before sunrise to run. Asahi would rather die than leave his bed before 8am

-Noya turns the coffee pot on and cooks breakfast to lure Asahi out of bed

-Noya is surprisingly patient, gentle, quiet, and kind when it comes to Asahi and his insecurities

-Noya is the type to bottle his insecurities and fears until they explode. The only one who can calm him back down is Asahi

-Asahi makes bratty faces when he thinks Noya isn’t looking

-Noya and Tanaka spend a lot of time with Daisuga because of the Daichi&Suga&Asahi&Kiyoko friendship. Asahi and Ennoshita become good friends

-Asahi doesn’t understand the distance between Noya and his sisters because Asahi is very close to his

-It is impossible to embarrass Noya

-Asahi gets a lot of inspiration for his fashion designs from traveling with Noya

-Noya knows how to braid hair and likes to play with Asahi’s

-Asahi enjoys physical affection but dislikes overt PDA. Noya would happily climb Asahi like a tree in public if Asahi would let him

-Only Asahi calls Noya by his given name

-Noya knows he likes Asahi early on but Asahi’s panic (“omg someone LIKES me?? NOYA likes me?? My crush??”) at his confession prevent them getting together until after the Date Tech match (after Asahi rejoins the team).

-Noya is affected by wanderlust and that’s why he travels. Sometimes Asahi joins him. They get married in Canada during one of these trips. (I once read a fantastic asanoya fic where a significant event happened in Canada so Canada is my asanoya place now)

-Noya sends Asahi a postcard from every place he’s ever visited. Sometimes he’ll spend over half an hour trying to find the *best* one, only to buy them all and send them as a sort of big long letter. Asahi saves them all in a photo album that lives on the coffee table. (Some people have a coffee table book, Asahi has a photo album.)

-Noya prefers to top. The one thing he’s really uncomfortable with is being on the bottom (physically laying beneath someone and also sex).

KUROKEN

-Kuroken have a black cat and a calico and enjoy naps on the couch with the kitties. Kuroo has SO MANY pictures in his phone of Kenma curled around the kitties.

-Kuroo: “Love you.” Kenma: “Hate you.”

-Kenma CAN cook, but likes that Kuroo likes taking care of him

-Every game Kuroo has ever owned is multiplayer because he only games with Kenma

-Kenma’s favorite games involve critical thinking and puzzles. Kuroo enjoys watching him play

-Kuroo is an introvert masquerading as an extrovert. Kenma is an introvert. They enjoy quiet nights in.

-Kuroo has anxiety. Kenma always knows when Kuroo is anxious and how to fix it

-People make Kenma anxious. Kuroo makes himself anxious.

-Kenma’s nicknames for Kuroo are Kuro and Koroemon. Kuroo calls Kenma Kyanma and kitten

-Kuroo has been in love with Kenma for as long as he can remember, since they were kids. Kenma knows this, but doesn’t understand he feels the same way until Kuroo goes off to college

-Kuroo is the one who discovered Daichi’s lack of gag reflex. He’s delighted to learn that Kenma lacks one as well

-Kenma moves more slowly than Kuroo. He’s not as comfortable with physical affection and sex as Kuroo is. Their relationship progresses slowly, and Kuroo lets Kenma lead. 

-After Kenma’s confession, how he feels about Kuroo is one of the very few things Kuroo does not doubt or make himself anxious over.

-Kuroo can, will, and has go(ne) on and on and ON about Kenma until someone shuts him up. It drives Yaku up the fucking wall in high school.

-Kenma does a retro game stream once or twice a month made up of games he and Kuroo used to play as kids. Kuroo actually games with him on those days and Kenma’s followers are quick to notice and speculate because Kenma has literally never gamed with another person in the same room before. Sometimes Kenma can only post the actual gameplay because Kuroo ruined the footage of them by being excessively sappy. (Kuroo is NOT above flirting and dirty talk to get an edge and Kenma doesn’t really think his fans need to know that.)

-Kuroken do not talk about Kuroo’s mom or sister

-The Kozumes love “Tetsu-chan” and Kuroo’s grandparents adore Kenma. Kuroken get along with each other’s families better than they do their own.

-Kuroo is tactile. He’s that ass-slapping friend. Kenma thinks he’s ridiculous

-Kuroo used to be dislike Hinata, because Kenma and Hinata are extremely good friends and Kuroo was afraid Hinata would take Kenma away from him. Kenma has assured him he doesn’t like Hinata like that but Kuroo doesn’t warm up until Hinata starts dating Kageyama

BOKUAKA

-Akaashi is 100% in charge of the house and the financials and his word is law. Not because he’s an asshole but because Bokuto is whipped

-Akaashi is a screamer. Bokuto has a big dick.

-Bokuto is the calmest between him and his sisters. His sisters have formed an Akaashi fanclub

-Bokuaka kiss a lot during sex

-Bokuto fucking loves owls

-Akaashi used to be embarrassed over being a manga editor but Bokuto thinks it’s the coolest job ever, “even better than mine!” When his authors need references, Akaashi sends them pictures of Bokuto. Bokuto takes this responsibility very seriously

-Bokuaka exclusively refer to each other by first name but Akaashi can’t break the habit of using -san

-Akaashi and Kenma are very good friends. Bokuto thinks they might even be better bros than him and Kuroo. (Kenma is one of the few people Akaashi calls by first name, and one of the only people who calls Akaashi by his.)

-Akaashi overthinks as a result of anxiety, but he doesn’t think he has anxiety. He prefers to call it “seeing the issue from all sides”

-Akaashi and Bokuto do yoga together. Bokuto behaves himself surprisingly well around Akaashi in yoga pants

-Akaashi decided to attend Fukurodani after watching Bokuto play and literally for no other reason

-Bokuaka are the embodiment of love at first sight and their relationship has an unreal, almost storybook quality to it because they are literally perfect for each other. Because of this, Bokuto doesn’t understand why other people struggle so much to start and maintain a relationship, no matter how many times Kuroo tells him “just because your relationship is straight out of a movie doesn’t mean the rest of the world works like that”

-Bokuaka have a koi pond in their backyard and have named all the fish. Bokuto always asks about them when he’s away for games

IWAOI

-Iwaizumi cooks and cleans because he’s always been the one taking care of Oikawa, but he refuses to fold the laundry because “I’m not doing everything for you, you fucking freeloader”

-Iwaizumi cooks healthy “old man food.” Oikawa’s sweet tooth suffers

-Oikawa is that guy who puts more cream and sugar and other additives in his coffee than actual coffee. He’s tried all of Starbucks’ seasonal drinks and never gets the same thing twice

-Iwaoi have very heated arguments about if Godzilla can kick King Kong’s ass or not. Iwaizumi of course sides with Godzilla

-Iwaoi once fought about the original purpose of Stonehenge and now no one can mention England without it coming back up

-Oikawa only became comfortable with his glasses because Iwaizumi likes them

-Iwaoi have been friends since they were in diapers. The whole volleyball team took bets on when they’d announce their relationship

-Both the Oikawas and the Iwaizumis respond when either boy calls for mom or dad. Oikawa calls his sister Nee-chan while Iwaizumi says Oneesan

-Iwaizumi’s favorite of Oikawa’s features is his legs. Oikawa is in love with Iwa’s arms

-Neither of them can remember when they started liking each other or how their relationship started

-Iwaoi are shockingly codependent and do NOT do separation (during university in Argentina/California or for away games) well

-Deep down Oikawa is extremely insecure and worries he isn’t enough - in volleyball, in school, in his family, in his relationship. Iwaizumi always knows when he’s putting on a front and how to cheer him back up

-Iwaizumi is secretly so soft and weak for Oikawa

-After the Olympics Iwaizumi moves to Argentina to be with Oikawa and they get married. They move back to Japan after Oikawa retires from volleyball and after gay marriage becomes legal there

-Oikawa keeps various plants around the house and the patio and is extremely proud of them. He paints all their pots and even names some of them (which Iwaizumi thinks is disgustingly cute). His most prized plant is a lucky bamboo he bought on a whim when iwaoi first moved in together.

-Oikawa can’t deepthroat. It makes him so jealous that Iwaizumi can

-Iwaizumi blushes whenever Oikawa gives him a genuine compliment

-Iwaizumi has a praise kink. Oikawa has a “whatever comes out of Iwa’s mouth” kink

-Iwaizumi has dom tendencies.

[aminiatureworld]

Spotlight

Characters: Albedo, Kazuha, Xiao, gn!reader

Word Count: 3,707

Warnings: Swearing

Premise: Modern AU in which the reader’s s/o is famous.

Author’s Note: My first crack at a modern AU and I enjoyed it immensely! My personal media of choice definitely came through in this prompt. I would now kill for Albedo to read Shakespeare. Also streamer Kazuha is an inspired idea, thank you anon for that! Not to mention musician Xiao, truly chef’s kiss.

Albedo

Albedo was a stage actor, both by education and by trade. Starting in high school he began in local productions, before entering into the Mondstadt Theateracademie. After appearing as Estragon in a filmed version of Waiting for Godot, he began to be scouted for various television miniseries, eventually becoming a well-respected film actor.

You arrived somewhere in the middle of his career. Working as a costume assistant at the Academie you had quickly fallen for the inquisitive and deceptively intense soul that exuded every color of emotion onstage, from raging anger to soft sorrow, before stepping into the wings and resuming an aura of utter calm. He had captivated you, both as an actor and as a human being; and when you learned that he had also become slightly infatuated with you, well, it was hard not to feel like you had stepped into a wonderful play, or perhaps simply a wonderful play had been brought to life.

The switch from theatre to screen was certainly a jarring one for both of you. When the first film contract was offered Albedo had stared at it for a long time, rereading it over and over again as the coffee in front of him quickly turned cold.

“Is there something wrong with the contract?” You had asked.

“No, it’s not that. It’s only…”

“Only?”

“Only on stage there is a single audience. You can feel their reactions, can measure their response. There is nothing nebulous about the people around you. But on film you cannot do that. You cannot adjust for time of day, or whether it’s a weekend or a Friday performance. You must let your lines out and hope that they land without even being able to calculate it.”

“It’s not a science experiment my darling,” you had teased.

“Maybe not,” Albedo admitted. Still he continued to read and reread, and it was only until the next afternoon that he had told you his answer.

Still, you had to admit that he made a fantastic actor. The naturally inward part of your partner’s personality, the part that always seemed to jump out the moment he left the stage, worked well to balance with the camera’s need for subtlety, unlike the projection required for stage plays. It was little surprise then that he should grow so popular. Despite all the worries about measuring audience response, there was no doubting the success of Albedo’s acting career.

Being a naturally withdrawn person Albedo mostly stayed off of social media. He had one private Instagram for friends – he didn’t post anything; one private Facebook for family – the only picture was one of you two in the mountains next to a particularly weird looking rock; and WhatsApp – which could barely be counted. Thus when he started blowing up on Twitter – a platform you had a mostly unused account on – the reaction was mostly one of “why are they talking about me?”

Not that Albedo minded fan enthusiasm, indeed when people started showing up in droves at the stage door for him he was always careful to thank everyone collectively and talk to as many people as possible, it just sort of confused him that so many people should take a vested interest in the actor and not just the character.

“It’s because they want to show you how wonderful they think your performances are,” you’d explained.

“I don’t have Twitter,” Albedo deadpanned.

Despite his protests though you sometimes caught him scrolling on your account, face slightly red at all the positive attention. His habit of internal self-deprecation had never truly gone away. That fact became slightly unfortunate in the face of hate comments. It was hard for Albedo not to take things personally. If someone said his acting was shit then you would catch Albedo reading the same line over and over again, as if to achieve mathematical perfection. It was a difficult urge to fight, and you were always careful to give Albedo plenty of reassurance when these things popped up, as well as surreptitiously blocking the trolls that wandered their way onto your dash.

This habit to take things at face value did not apply when you entered the mix. As far as Albedo was concerned you were his partner and no amount of complaining online would make him second guess that or second guess your worth. Even if you thought that you had a better hold on social media assholerly than he did Albedo would still make sure that for every hate comment that floated your way there were at least three compliments on his part. Mentioning you off-handedly in press interviews, saying that he had to go home to his partner, leaving small sketches on post-it notes scattered throughout your apartment, there were no lengths that Albedo wouldn’t go to assure you. And, if you had to admit, these things truly did make you feel better on the days when the small part of your brain said that this wasn’t mindless social media harassment.

Being an actor Albedo had an incredibly fine-tuned sense of the way that people responded to emotions, as if he were performing some grand sort of scientific experiment to see how many people he could sway with his gift. As of such he was always careful that, regardless of his success, things between you were never upturned. You were with him before he was really famous, and you would be there during and after. Albedo loved you deeply; though he often said that he hated romance plays for how sappy they were in his mind your relationship was the one, glowing exception – regardless of the other happy couples in the world. Though it was slightly idealistic, it was the kind of intensity that comprised Albedo’s personality, was the thing that had garnered him so much success.

Albedo loved you deeply, and no amount of surprise movie contracts would change that.

 Kazuha

You had to admit that when you had met Kazuha you had no idea about his double life as a streamer. He was merely one of the many singers that came and went to the recording studios, all people eager to unleash their talent on the world. But unlike the rest of them, Kazuha could make you laugh.

Perhaps then it was unsurprising that Kazuha should be a popular streamer. Though his often florid talking style might seem on paper like it would be too grating for streaming, in reality his soft cadence combined with a dry sense of humor made him wildly popular. He rarely lost his temper, making him palatable to those who wanted to have a fun time without blowing their ears out, and when he did lose it his hyper-specific, often nonsensical insults were the stuff of memes. No, in retrospect it was not all that surprising that Kazuha was a beloved streamer.

At heart though, Kazuha had told you over coffee, the enthusiastic and earnest internet sensation was a poet.

“When you’ve had a life as dissonant as mine, how can you not be?” He’d joked. And indeed perhaps he was right, for Kazuha was as wonderful a poet as you had ever read. He was born to be a writer, you had told him.

You were also an aspiring singer, as well as a friend of the studio owner where you did your recordings. As such you had made it a habit to help around the studio when you weren’t also working or studying. As you and Kazuha were both students with intense side jobs, the good natured complaining of overworked students also made their way into you rapport, a friendship that grew day-by-day. Eventually it sprouted into love.

Though you knew that Kazuha was a streamer when your relationship started, in reality you hadn’t realized how truly popular he had become. The first time you watched one of his streams you were blown away by his popularity. Watching your first livestream only cemented that. It was hard to believe that your down-to-earth, slightly self-effacing, partner could have garnered such a large fanbase. Not that you didn’t think he deserved it. He absolutely did. However after seeing that you admitted you were a bit awestruck.

“Why? Am I not the same person on screen and off?”

“Of course you are! It’s just, well, my partner’s a celebrity!”

“I would go that far,” Kazuha laughed.

“Well you certainly are to me!”

Nevertheless your dynamic didn’t change much afterwards, besides the occasional teasing on both of your parts. Kazuha was after all Kazuha at the end of the day.

At the beginning Kazuha didn’t mention you much on stream, certainly not by name, you had to admit you were a bit intimidated by the idea of being recognizable on the internet, even if it was just by name.

“This is also my partner’s favorite map.” Had been his first mention, during a game of Mario Kart.

Despite this offhanded remark however the chat had almost immediately exploded, followed by the rest of the fanbase. Though there was, of course, some disappointed buzz – isn’t there always – the reaction was immensely positive. Positive, and curious.

After a while Kazuha started mentioning you more often in streams, especially after the two fo you moved in. Sometimes you would hear him as you passed him room – Kazuha liked to keep the door open – other times you would watch it on stream yourself.

“My partner hates this character. Too bad you can’t throw evidence.”

“Nobody tell my partner that I’m afraid of basements. I don’t need them to know that when laundry day rolls around.”

“Hey if you’re watching this dear, I promise that it’s not that much money. You don’t need to look at the bank account. Who am I kidding, this is why we don’t share one.”

“Hey, darling I know you’re watching this. Can you check and make sure I left my keys on the coffee table, they aren’t on my desk. Also can you make tea?”

Despite fans knowing very little about you, you were surprised by the amount of positive comments that flooded the streams. You had to admit that your initial expectations had been “people are going to find me annoying”. Instead funny comics of your voice drifting in from the other room popped up, along with a lot of waving and “tell your partner not to trust you with the keys” after Kazuha fell off a cliff one too many times. It was an odd experience, to be so happy about the comments of faceless people, people to whom you were also faceless.

Eventually Kazuha’s hardwork in singing paid off and his first single was recorded and given a deal. On the evening of the release livestream Kazuha set up in the living room, angling the camera so that you could sit on the chair just out of frame. You had talked about the release for months now, and a few weeks ago Kazuha had brought up the idea of a pseudo-stream reveal.

“I was wondering if you’d like to say hello to the audience or wave when my song is released. I understand that you’re hesitant about those sort of things, and I would never ask of you something that would make you uncomfortable. This relationship is the most precious thing to me, and I wouldn’t want you to feel pressured or exploited in any ways.”

“Thank you for being so considerate Kazuha. I’ll think about it.”

Now you sat in the chair, fidgeting slightly, waiting as the countdown on his laptop reached one. You excitement certainly seemed matched by that of the fans, who were typing wildly in the chat.

Eventually the screen faded to black and the chatting quieted down. The first few notes of a wooden flute emerged, combined with the strumming of a guitar. As the familiar words began to echo through the laptop speaker you found yourself washed away. Kazuha was always enthralling when he sang. At the end of the song was a dedication, and though Kazuha had already alluded to it, the sincerity still took your breath away.

To my dearest partner. My compass and my guiding star throughout this realization of my dream. You are my sun and my stars, and I’m forever devoted to you. Thank you for sharing in this project, and thank you for giving me such love.

Perhaps it was slightly saccharine. Regardless you felt the sudden, uninhibited urge to cry.

“So, what did everyone think?” Kazuha asked into the mic, face reappearing on screen. He was slightly giddy, and you watched as his hand tugged on the fabric of his linen belt.

Immediately the chat exploded, as waves of “that was amazing”, “I’m crying now”, and “the end was so sweet!” flooded the screen.

“Thank you all for the encouragement!” Kazuha let out a laugh, one that you could tell was one of utter euphoria, and no little relief. “There’s someone else I think who would like to thank you.”

Who knew that a small sentence could cause such a splash?

You barely had time to let out a tentative “Hello,” before an immediate wave of excited screaming covered the bottom left of Kazuha’s stream. “Thank you for supporting Kazuha’s song. And thank you for always being nice to me.” With a tentative wave of the hand you collapsed back on your chair, slightly hysterical laughter rising inside you out of the relief that flooded through you upon seeing the enthused fan reaction.

Afterwards your voice became the occasional guest on Kazuha’s streams, always greeted with enthusiasm. Kazuha continued to grow in popularity, and his music continued to capture a larger and larger audience.

All throughout this you never felt a snag in your relationship. Kazuha may have been a big streaming personality, but he was also a kind and considerate partner, the best that one could ask for in a significant other. Kazuha’s love was never in question. And neither was yours.

 Xiao

Sometimes you were a little self-conscious about the way that you met Xiao.

Though Xiao had definitely grown a following by the time you met – being the main pianist for a popular singer and a classical pseudo-prodigy in both piano and flute his own right certainly had roped him an enthusiastic fanbase – you had simply known him as “the guy who hogs the practice room”.

“I swear to the gods, how long can that bastard take to practice!” You texted angrily at your friend one day. Qixing Conservatory was the premiere music place in Liyue, but what should’ve been an amazing opportunity was being overshadowed by a practice room partner who appeared to not have a life, one who also had the obnoxious habit of playing the same damn thing over, and over, and over again.

“Playing the same piece as before?”

“Yes! Ugh I don’t even know what it’s called but I’ve heard it enough times to last a lifetime, maybe five!”

“Damn I’m sorry, what time does he usually end?”

“I don’t even know. Some time in the early evening. It’s obviously never gotten through to his brain that other people also need to practice. Or that hearing the same notes over and over while waiting makes me want to chuck my binder against a wall.”

“Lol. I kinda want to hear it now. Can you send a video, will the sound pick up?”

“I don’t know how it wouldn’t.”

“…”

“Holy shit! Okay, I need you to watch this video and tell me if you recognize the pianist.”

Safe to say you nearly fell out of your chair upon figuring out Xiao’s identity. Not that you weren’t already about to out of pure exasperation. Still, there was something much more intimidating about shaming a successful musician, and you no longer had the urge to glare at Xiao every time he left the practice room. Honestly, you would have been perfectly happy keeping your head down and never interacting with him at all.

Fate, however, has a sense of humor.

To be fair, some of it was your fault. You knew that Erlkonig was a massively difficult piece. You knew that you should’ve picked something else, knew that even Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata mvt. Three had to be less painful than the non-vocal arrangement you’d placed in front of your eyes. You were never trusting your music taste with your piece choices again. This was a terrible mistake.

“These stupid fucking running notes!” You let out, a groan of exasperation racing through you. Half slamming (you weren’t crazy) the piano cover down you swung the door of the practice room open. You didn’t want to deal with this anymore. Trying to ignore the embarrassment that rose up seeing Xiao waiting on a chair next to the door you went to walk down the hallway.

“You should work on it with a dotted sixteenth note pattern.”

It was the first time that Xiao had ever spoken to you.

Afterwards a rapport slowly grew between the two of you. Often Xiao said nothing as you passed, rarely you made a gesture of recognition when he finally reappeared from the practice room. However soon the occasional word or phrase of advice grew into longer sentences, later these sentences evolved into pieces of conversation. Soon enough you discovered, to your slight horror, that you found yourself yearning for Xiao’s company.

Almost as soon as you’d finally figured out your feelings you were hit with a wave of denial. You weren’t falling for Xiao? How could you fall for someone who got on your nerves so much? Sure he gave you advice, but what about it? You deserved it after having to hear him over and over again while waiting. Certainly Xiao didn’t seem interested in you, he barely talked to you! Yeah he was getting more talkative, but it’s easier to talk to people when you’re giving them advice. There’s no way you were in love with Xiao. And there was no way he was in love with you.

To say that Xiao’s career as a musician, never mind his genuine technical talent at two instruments, was a barrier would be an understatement. The moment you thought you were making some progress, finally admitting to yourself that this crush was, in fact, real, a wave of anxiety would pass over you. Xiao was too good for you, he was too important. Here was a man who had a successful musical career already up in the air while you banged frustratedly on the keys. Why would someone that successful be interested in you? Not to mention the fact that he didn’t seem interested.

Because, you had to admit, you did like Xiao’s music. Not just his classical repertoire, but his pop music as well. It was slightly jazzy, mellow and playful and utterly unlike the scowling musician behind it – something you secretly thought extremely cute and surprisingly charming. To him you were just a practice roommate, and you were sure he’d find the idea of dating someone who was more familiar with his public persona irritating.

So you buried your feelings, or tried to. Unfortunately like sometimes attracts like, and just as Xiao secretly had the emotional understanding of a teaspoon, you weren’t nearly as clever about things as you would like.

“Is there something on my face?” Xiao asked, his voice gruff and slightly reluctant.

“No, why would there be?”

“Because you’re staring at it!”

“Oh, I’m sorry!” You let your head drop, looking intently at the ivories in front of you. Eventually there was a sigh.

“You don’t have to do that. I… I don’t mind.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes! You staring down is weird too. Let’s, let’s just hurry up and do this passage.”

After that you became more aware of your staring habit. You also became more aware of Xiao’s own habit, leaning towards you. Sometimes you swore that you could feel the tips of his hair tickling your neck, light and feathery and stealing all your attention.

“Hey, Xiao, do you need glasses?”

“Why would you asked that!” Xiao flared up, face reddening. By this time you’d become more accustomed to these flareups of grumpiness, and ignoring it you pressed on.

“It’s just, you seem to be leaning forward.”

“I’m not!” Immediately Xiao shifted back, almost stepping away. Without thinking about it you reached to grab his hand.

“I didn’t mean it was a bad thing!” You got out, before becoming aware of your hand grasping Xiao’s. The touch felt electric, and you were suddenly so very aware of everything, yet unable to focus at all.

“Then you shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Xiao grumbled.

Slowly the musician leaned closer to you once more. You had already half stood up and now you found yourself stepping closer to Xiao. The world continued to shrink until you were almost pressed together. Xiao was leaning forward, as were you, and the longer tufts of his hair were tickling your cheek, helped by the fan whirring away in the corner. Your hand was still in his, but all your thoughts appeared to have died away.

“Xiao?”

“Is this, too close?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

“Xiao?”

“What?”

“I like your music. I hope that doesn’t bother you.”

“Why would it?”

“I don’t know. I just, I also like you, not just your music. But I also like your music.”

“I also like yours too.”

Perhaps it wasn’t the most romantic of confessions, but at that point you were far too carried away by the moment, or maybe by the fact that was the most sentences Xiao had strung together that weren’t about triplets. Regardless of the fact, you were suddenly seized by incredible happiness, as all appeared to right itself.

Afterwards initially little changed, Xiao was a gruff as ever, you were still itching to play in the practice room more. Nevertheless when you went to a concert of his for the first time and he let out a small, almost imperceptible, smile your way you knew things had changed. They would keep changing perhaps, or maybe they wouldn’t. After all, this moment was beautiful.

So much that you didn’t even mind the hours spent waiting for the practice room.

[fereldanwench]

Nice Things

I was tagged by @lizzy--wizzy and @nananarc to do a Nice Things post--Thank you, bbs! 💙

Comfort Movie: Ever After, The Mummy (1999), and The Fifth Element all share this status equally--It just depends on what I'm in the mood for. Ever After is when I'm feeling extra somft and sappy, The Mummy is when I want a sexy bi-panic-inducing adventure, and The Fifth Element is when I want rad af visuals and music.

(Usually when I want comfort media, though, I go to TV shows, and The X-Files and Roswell are my main choices there.)

Comfort Food: Anything that doesn't cause me stress, lmao. I have a complicated relationship with food that I'm trying to work on, but right now I'm just dfjghfdjkgdfg. Pretty much any kind of pizza or a turkey sub from Jersey Mike's are usually safe bets, though.

Comfort Clothes: 100% my Hello Kitty ramen PJ pants, a soft t-shirt, and a sports bra. Plus thick fuzzy socks and my oversized sweater if it's cold out.

Comfort Song: I don't know if I really have one now that I think about it. I tend to turn to music to feel other things, haha. If I want comfort, I usually put on ambiance videos from YouTube. The closest would probably be the nostalgia I have for Garbage's first album--I got the CD the same Christmas I got my Game Boy Color and Tomb Raider for the GBC, and I will just forever associate those three things with sitting on my porch (because it was warm that year) playing Tomb Raider and listening to Garbage on Christmas break. It just brings me a lot of warm fuzzies.

Comfort Book: Quiet by Susan Cain. Sort of an anthem to introverts. And anything by Karin Slaughter, but especially Pretty Girls and The Good Daughter. (They're crime thrillers that deal with some horrific shit, don't @ me, lmao.)

Comfort Game: Cyberpunk 2077 is one--Even as fucked up as Night City is, I just love spending time there, especially with the blorbos. There are the obvious ones, like Stardew Valley and Terraria. Tomb Raider: The Last Revelation hits that nostalgia comfort. And shoutout to The Outer Worlds, Dragon Age II, and Mass Effect Andromeda, because they all definitely filled that space for a few years, too.

Not sure who's been tagged already so apologies if this is a duplicate: @wanderingaldecaldo @starsandskies @breezypunk @gloryride @roofgeese @commander-krios @alongtidesoflight

[obeiii-mee]

Hey! I have a really loud and particular laugh that seems to carry quite literally throughout my house and there have been many times people have bought it up with me (I can’t help it my laugh is just loud & contagious!!). Could I request the bros reaction to MC who quite literally is unable to laugh quietly and ends up being heard through the whole of the house? Thank you!🥰

This is so sweet, geez imma get cavities. I also have a very loud laugh and I startle people a lot when I start laughing so I get what you mean!

These HCs are probably written a lot better because suddenly I’m full energy and motivation-

———————————————

The Brothers with an MC who has a loud and particular laugh:

Lucifer:

-He’ll never admit it but whenever you start laughing or even smiling, he can’t really stop himself from doing it too

-Like, he looks at you as you start cackling about a funny meme Levi just showed you and he’s holding back a smile-

-Because, even though you have such a loud and some would say ‘obnoxious’ laugh, he thinks you just sound so precious

-He really struggles to show that he’s not affected by you as much as he actually is

-Even if you start laughing at an inappropriate time, he’d likely not even tell you off properly

- Would never say anything of the sort to your face, but he low-key admires you

-He thinks it’s amazing that a simple human like you that has experienced so many horrible things every since they arrived in literal hell, can have the ability to laugh so heartily even now

-If you’re in public and start doing your boisterous laugh, he will keep a stoic expression on his face

-There’s a hint of a blush on his cheeks if you look close enough, though I doubt anyone is crazy enough to point it out

-In private though? Appreciate these moments y’all, because it’s one of the few rare times you’ll see him laugh freely

-Even when he’s around his brothers and trying to keep a straight face, you can see his lips threatening to curve upwards

-Basically, he thinks you’re baby and your laugh makes him feel at ease

Mammon:

-I head canon that he also has a very particular laugh because he gives off those kind of vibes

-He probably doesn’t even notice how loud you are when you start wheezing

-Normally, he’d join in and start laughing with you as the rest of the brothers take out their sound blocking ear muffs for the third time that day

-You two are loud ok?

-Poor Lucifer who not only has insomnia and is a workaholic, he also has two idiots giggling to themselves in the middle of the night

-When I said Mammon is trying to get a laugh out of you any hour of the day

-I mean any hour

-He will wake you up to just hear your voice and then proceed to run out as you start yelling at him

-Even if he were to notice it, the worst reaction you’re gonna get out of him is a bit of teasing

-“Ya sound like you’re dyin’ over there human. You alright?”

-When in reality, he’s even more smitten with you because your laugh is just another one of your amazing qualities

-Mammon does the stupidest shit in front of you to make you and hear you laugh because it warms his heart

-Even if he wouldn’t admit it, to you or to himself

-The only time he ‘doesn’t like’ it when you laugh is if you’re poking fun at him with his brothers

-That gets him all huffy puffy and sad

-For a minute, before he’s thrown himself onto you again

-Greedy for money and greedy for affection of course

Levi:

-ohcrapohcrapohcrapohcrap

-“YOU SOUND JUST LIKE THE MAIN CHARACATER’S LOVE INTEREST FROM THIS NEW ANIME I’M WATCHING! IT’S CALLED: PEOPLE KEEP TELLING ME I’M IN LOVE WITH MY BEST FRIEND BUT I’M ACTUALLY NOT, THOUGH WHOA THEY HAVE SUCH A PRETTY LAUGH!”

-Catch him rambling about it for five minutes straight

-Before stopping abruptly, flushing from head to toe and starting to stutter like he forgot how to speak

-This usually has you laughing again, in a more sympathetic and encouraging way and he just...dies

-He doesn’t like his laugh, at all

-He thinks it sounds really awkward and tense

-So he’s low-key jealous about your rather impulsive laugh because it’s so sweet??? And amazing and cute??? Just like you???

-But at the same time, it’s hard for him to be jealous of it when he loves it so much

-Why do you think he keeps coming to you whenever he finds funny memes or compilations online???

-“I don’t expect a normie like you to understand but look at this.”

-He gets a stupidly cute kick out of knowing that he is the one making you laugh

-I suggest trying not to laugh too much while he’s playing video games because your laugh distracts him so much

-And he will throw his headset at you

-Affectionately of course

Satan:

-He doesn’t give much of a reaction besides a quirked eyebrow and a quiet ‘Oh?’

-Sure, he doesn’t really like it when his brothers are being noisy either because they’re laughing too loudly or because they are fighting gladiator style outside his room

-But you’re the exception

-The only person in that household that could get away with interrupting his reading/work is you

-May come as a surprise to some, but sometimes Satan does get worried for you

-If he hasn’t seen you in a while he might start thinking that something is wrong

-But then he’d hear you laughing from downstairs and he’d smile and think “Eh they’re alright.”

-He thinks your laugh sounds so much more endearing than his own psychotic laugh 🥰🥰🥰

-Will throw one of his precious books at any of his brothers if they make fun of the way you laugh

-Basically, he has the biggest heart eyes for you but he’s too good at hiding it

-Laugh with him whenever something embarrassing happens to Lucifer and he will be so pleased and happy for the rest of the day

Asmo:

-“MC my dear, has anyone mentioned what a wonderfully charming laugh you have? And that says something coming from me.”

-Asmo also has a very noticeable laugh

-Not exactly loud but it could be considered obnoxious (to his brothers) and he giggles all the time when he’s very excited

-Having Asmodeous as your partner is basically the same thing as dating your best friend

-Despite being the Avatar of Lust, your relationship with him is super healthy and even he takes comfort in that

-You’d both be chuckling to yourselves in Majolish or something because this bïtch is hilarious if he wants to be

-“Oh my Lord Diavolo! MC, look! I found the perfect outfit for Mammon!!”

-And it’s a Disney princess dress the size of a fuckn toddler

-You guys laughed so hard you got kicked out >:(

-But you ended up buying that dress for Mammon anyway lmaoo

-Spending too much time with Asmo is similar to the whole “I’m trying to be quiet in class but me and my friend keep laughing every time we look at each other”

-The way both of you have to strain yourselves from full on cackling when Lucifer has a go at either of you 😌

-Except you seriously can’t laugh because you will be ✨murdered✨

-“What do you mEAN YOU DON’T LIKE YOUR LAUGH, YOUR LAUGH IS GORGEOUS! NOT AS GORGEOUS AS MINE OBVIOUSLY BUT IT EASILY COMES IN SECOND!”

-That’s the kind of hype he gives you all day every day

Beel:

-The first time he properly heard you laugh was when you started making puns and you were laughing like crazy at your own jokes (samesies)

-And he just loves seeing you this happy because he gets happy and then he doesn’t even want to eat anymore, he just wants to hug you

-“I like your laugh. Do it again for me?”

-Your heart went doki doki

-It’s common for Beel to make you all flustered without meaning to and then you nervously start laughing again because you feel so awkward

-BUT your face brightens up so much when you start laughing or even smiling and he can’t help himself from complimenting you

-Your joyous and loud chuckles always cheer him up

-To the point where he completely forgets how hungry he is

-Took you a while to figure this one out but his mood sort of changes with yours??

-If you’re visibly sadder than usual, he his morale is also surprisingly low and he starts eating more than usual

-In comparison to when you’re all bubbly and doing that beautiful laugh of yours and he gets like these butterflies in his stomach instead of the usual pangs of pain and hunger

-So now he just wants to hear your voice in general on repeat for the rest of eternity

-Im not crying you are

Belphie:

-“You’re too loud dumbass, I’m tryin’ to nap here.”

-Will deadass throw a pillow at your face if you wake him up

-Like hes so rude and for what?

-He loves you and your annoying as fuck laugh, he really does I promise

-It’s a special, unique part of you and all that sappy crap

-But keep it up and you will have a very cranky boyfriend to deal with for the rest of the month

-He can be such an ass at times if he’s in a bad mood

-“I should tape your mouth shut.”

-“Kinky-“

-“Shut up.”

-But as much as he hates being woken up by somebody else, he would much prefer waking up to your voice rather anyone else’s

-You usually wake him up in the mornings to get ready for RAD and you start giggling every time he pulls a face at you and complains that he doesn’t wanna

-“What are you? An alarm clock?”

-And then he just sort of pulls you to him and goes with a completely straight face:

-“You’re annoying but you can be my alarm clock if you want to.”

-He’s either flirting or is so sleepy he’s being unusually soft hELP

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Thank you for reading! And for all the reblogs and follows. You guys don’t even know how much I appreciate your support. Especially at times when I’m not as motivated to write and now that the fandom has fizzled out a bit.

Also imma have to make a master list soon or something

Al~

[halcyon-writings]

Hi! Do u mind doing headcanons of akira/ren, ryuji and akechi from p5 with a rlly extroverted and clingy reader? Thank you 🥺💖💖💖

note(s): apologies for the late answer to these, i’m slowly but surely finishing off requests!!lowkey this request has me soft for these three as well so i’m just 🥺🥰

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all my links (masterlist, rules, etc.) can be found on my pinned post!!!

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slight warning for spoilers in these too!! the hcs are utc, bc long posts without one make me age prematurely

i’ve literally tried to fix ryuji’s and akechi’s banner things and idk why the quality is so different hjdhdhj but i have given up bye

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He may not look it, but he can be just as clingy. So he loves it. At every little thing, whether it’s you grabbing his hand or walking arm in arm at every place you both go, or just laying your head on his shoulder when you’re both just hanging out and chilling in his room.

I feel like Akira would have a much more physical kind of love language, just having you close by is a big reassurance to him and sometimes there are days where the rumors catch up to him and the way he’s still held at a distance affects him more than what he lets on. It helps him when he knows you aren’t going to think of him as a criminal or worse.

As soon as you show any sort of physical affection just know he’ll be quick to reciprocate. And if you get flustered? Then he’s gonna double down on it until you’re both just a pair of very flushed and very sappy goofballs. Sojiro has nearly kicked you both out of Leblanc but apparently the old ladies live for it so they come by a lot, so you can stay but you’re both on thin ice.

He really likes your extroverted personality! If we look at this game mechanic wise, he does one thing and just automatically goes to sleep (morgana leering menacingly in the bg-). So looking at this more like characteristics, maybe his social battery isn’t as full as yours. But he’s also there for you in case you need to step back and relax too.

If you want to see a very red faced Ryuji. then you’ve accomplished that mission very successfully by clinging onto him whenever you’re both hanging out. And for as much as he tries to hide it, the guy blushes all the way to the tips of his ears. You’ll know when you’ve got him all flushed and embarrassed.

He also likes your extroverted nature too, bc mans is also a pretty big extrovert. You both end up as that very excitable pair in high school. Very high energy and people are either jealous of the relationship or want to knock your heads together for being so loud and energetic, there is no in-between. 

Ryuji’s another who acts lowkey about all the shit people say about him. But don’t be fooled, after what Kamoshida did, apart from breaking up the track team and also giving him a debilitating knee injury, and how his reputation plummeted as a result, he bottles up a lot and keeps the negatives to himself. He’ll wait until he’s alone so that way he doesn’t drag you down, he says. But you prove him wrong and he’s all the more grateful for it.

Ryuji definitely brags about you. You’re probably the man’s homescreen/lockscreen. Returning to the first point, the moment you grab onto his hand or his arm when you both are walking to and from places whether it be to school or just on a date, he tries to play it off all cool. No one is fooled because they can see the flush on the back of his neck to the tips of his ears. 

Once again I’m gonna warn for spoilers in these, but especially for Goro.

I’m not going to lie, Akechi will either really like the clinginess or hate it depending on the different stages of your relationship. If it’s the beginning of the relationship, you might honestly have been a cover up for more of the less than savory activities under Shido’s command. However as time goes on he finds your personality and overrall demeanor to be very refreshing compared to the rest of the people he’s had to deal with. 

Not to be like, lowkey angsty, but, I have feeling that just as he’s starting to let himself become closer to you, that lingering doubt that you’re going to either disappear or end up using him in some way rears its head. Maybe it will maybe it won’t but please let this guy know that you’re in it for the long run (however long it may be). That feeling won’t just disappear in a day, so somedays are rougher than others but the fact that you’ll still cling to him like you have previously is a small reassurance. (shido send me your location i just wanna talk-)

But n e ways after you get past that, if you when the two of you are somewhere private, he is probably just as clingy. Think Koala type of clingy, I just know Akechi is touch starved as hell. And dealing with the public image that he’s created for himself and being bombarded with all this attention from both fans and critics alike can be overwhelming at times. So it’s a bit like a relief when it can be just the two of you, away from prying eyes that want to know all about the new Detective Prince and his s/o. 

He greatly admires the way you’re so extroverted. And maybe sometimes has you talk to people for him if the social battery he’s got is too drained, but only if you’re okay with it! That’s another thing that he’s come to respect is the boundaries. You may be extroverted and slightly clingy, but you don’t push him and instead go at his pace. But when the roles are reversed and you aren’t up for being the social butterfly, he’s more than happy to help you out too.

I think he needs a hug. A big hug.

[hrh-prince-butt]

lazy mornings

have some disgusting tooth-rotting fluff. as a treat <3

-

“We should probably get up.” 

Alex groans, making no effort to move. He is laying so comfortably, his head resting on Henry’s chest, one arm draped across his body. Henry’s hand is in his hair, following his curls in little circular motions with his fingers. Alex doesn’t see a reason to get up, ever. 

“Alex, love,” Henry tries again, though he doesn’t seem thrilled at the prospect of starting the day, either. “We can’t stay in bed all day.” 

“Why not?” Alex demands, his voice muffled as he presses his face against Henry’s bare chest. Neither of them is wearing any clothes, he notices with delight. 

Henry sighs, tugging playfully at Alex’s hair. Alex opens his eyes, squinting at the sunlight pouring through the bedroom window. 

“It’s 10 AM, already,” Henry notes, lifting his hand from Alex’s head to look at his watch. 

Alex lifts his own hand to Henry’s, lazily intertwining their fingers. “So?”

“Our friends are coming over later.” Henry moves both of their hands to his lips and gives Alex’s a soft kiss. “Did you forget?” 

“Ah, fuck,” Alex swears under his breath. He had, in fact, forgotten all about that. “That’s not until much later, though,” he argues, lifting his head slightly to look at Henry. He lets his non-occupied hand glide over Henry’s chest, giving him his best and most charming smile. To his satisfaction, Henry practically melts under his gaze. “We can stay in bed a little while longer, can’t we, baby?” 

Henry huffs and tries to look annoyed, but he can’t quite stop the smile tugging on his lips. It makes Alex smile too, and he has the sudden thought that if he isn’t kissing Henry on those beautiful lips within the next two seconds, he will drop dead. 

He hoists himself up on one elbow and leans in to kiss Henry, who drops his hand in favour of wrapping his arms around Alex and pulling him closer. Once they’re both out of breath from kissing, Alex lets himself fall down onto the bed again, regarding his boyfriend with a giddy sort of grin. He looks so fucking beautiful, sprawled lazily on the bed, aesthetically grazed by the sunlight that fills the room.  

I’m the luckiest son of a bitch in the world, Alex thinks to himself, his grin only growing wider. I get to wake up next to this beautiful fucker every day. He is about to open his mouth and offer some embarrassing sentiment about how lucky he is, when Henry sits up, rubbing his face with a yawn. 

“I really do need to get up now,” he says, smiling briefly at Alex before standing up. “Nature calls.” 

While Henry is in the bathroom, Alex manages to untangle himself from the sheets and get out of bed, though it’s in a much less graceful manner than Henry. He rolls over the edge, and lands on the floor with a thud that startles a disgruntled yelp out of David, who had been blissfully asleep until now. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles, before immediately feeling stupid for talking to a dog. He swore he would never become like those crazy pet-obsessed white folks who celebrate their dogs’ birthdays, but there are pictures on his phone of a certain beagle in an adorable birthday hat that proves just how badly he has failed at this. He 100% blames his boyfriend. It’s kind of incredible how many little quirks and habits he and Henry are accidentally picking up from each other. 

He can hear the water running from the shower, so he figures it will be a while before Henry is out. An excellent opportunity to surprise him with breakfast. Not that he really wants to get up and cook right now, but the smile on Henry’s face will be worth it. 

-

By the time Henry comes into the kitchen, his hair still damp from the shower, Alex has set the table, ready with scrambled eggs, bacon and sausages, and is pouring a cup of tea into Henry’s favourite mug. The mug itself is really nothing special, but he knows the value it holds to Henry. It was custom-made by Bea, and sent to him during this year’s pride month - the first pride month where he was able to be openly and authentically himself. It has the words gay as a maypole written underneath an illustrated rainbow. 

“God, this smells bloody incredible,” Henry says, and there’s that smile Alex loves so much. 

“Morning, sweetheart.” Alex sets down Henry’s tea, as well as his own cup of coffee, on the table in front of them. Henry sits down, eyeing the sausages hungrily, but before he can scoop any food onto his plate, Alex comes up behind him, putting both arms around him and leaning down to kiss the top of his head. “Love you,” he mumbles against Henry’s still-damp hair. 

Henry leans his head back to look at Alex, with eyes that are a fucking bottomless ocean Alex can’t help but get lost in. “I love you too.” 

They eat breakfast mostly in silence, but it’s the comfortable sort of silence that doesn’t need to be filled. Henry frowns a little when Alex gets out his phone to check the news, but seems to decide it’s not worth arguing about, and instead pulls over a book from across the table and starts reading. He’s still reading when Alex has finished skimming headlines for anything interesting. 

Alex watches him silently for a few pages worth of reading. Henry is too focused to notice, his brows knitting closer together in concentration. Every once in a while he chuckles or sighs or rolls his eyes and Alex’s heart swells with affection. 

It gets a little frustrating eventually, though, not being paid attention to, so he reaches out for Henry’s hand, the one that isn’t holding the book. “Baby,” he whines, and Henry looks up, with an eye-roll that’s now directed at him instead of the book. 

“Oh, sorry, love,” he says, a smile playing on his lips. “I forgot you go into panic mode when you go ten minutes without receiving attention.” 

Alex huffs indignantly, but he doesn’t really have anything to say in his defence. “So, give me attention then,” he says.

Henry finds a little flap of paper - a post-it note with a short to-do list scribbled on - and puts it between the book’s pages like a bookmark. “You’re a menace,” he says fondly, putting down the book.

“Thank you, darling,” Alex says, winking dramatically. 

That earns him a laugh from Henry, soft and crystal-clear and the most beautiful fucking sound Alex has ever heard, and he’s once again overwhelmed by the feeling of holy shit, I am so fucking lucky. This time he doesn’t waste time, he just says it, not caring if it makes him sound stupid and sappy. 

“I’m the luckiest person in the world,” he says, realizing with embarrassment that he actually does care a little bit about sounding stupid and sappy. He can feel his cheeks go red and he quickly looks away, down into his empty coffee mug. “I mean, you have a nice ass,” he mumbles. 

Henry touches a hand to his chin, nudging it up so he’s looking at him again. To Alex’s annoyance, he’s grinning smugly. “You have a nice ass, too.” 

[watermelonlipstick]

Hot Blood

This was written as a request for an anon who asked:

hi! i was wondering if you could write a dean fic where he’s with the reader in their car and hot blood by kaleo comes on, the reader sings along, their voice is really good, and dean realizes he’s in love w the reader

First of all, great song! I hadn’t heard a ton of Kaleo before, but I’ve put them into my rotation so thanks for the recommendation! I hope it’s okay that I took a few liberties with the format because it felt right with the angle; it’s from Dean’s point of view so the reader is in third person. 

Title: Hot Blood

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 1251

Summary: Hearing the reader sing along to Kaleo makes Dean realize his feelings about her are a lot more complex than he’s ever realized. 

Warnings: swearing, pining, fluff, sexual frustration?

            “The fuck is this?” Dean asks as she turns up the radio.

           “The band’s called Kaleo—you’ll like them, they’re from Iceland!” she yells, starting to groove and hum along as the volume starts pounding through the speakers. She doesn’t hear when he repeats her—Iceland?

           When she starts singing along to the radio her voice is somehow not what he expected—lower? Higher? He can’t even really tell, but that wasn’t the thing anyway, it’s that she’s…haunting. That’s it. The song is up tempo, the kind of rock beat he can tolerate even if it’s a poor facsimile of the greats, and that’s the crux of the hypnosis as she sings. Somehow, even howling along to a repetitive chorus, wind blowing the hair back from her face with the window of the Impala cracked a few inches, sides of her thumbs tapping the drumline out over the thighs of her jeans, it’s like she’s chanting a spell, triggering that deep-primal interconnectedness of a particularly vicious exorcism or bit of creation magic.

           Maybe that’s just the closest he can get to placing it. The shock of how fucking good she is notwithstanding—and she is seriously good, makes Dean think of Janis and Chrissie Hynde and maybe even Joni Mitchell who he knows is a genius even if he might never admit it aloud—appreciating a killer singer never makes Dean feel like this, like he has to consciously focus on the road after the hundreds of thousands of hours he’s driven in his life for the way his brain wants to forego everything else on earth for that fucking voice.

           Thank God for the bridge or Dean might’ve missed the turn, nothing else on the miles of wheatfields surrounding them he could even pretend to be distracted by but her. As it is, he takes it a little tight, and she smoothly reaches a hand through the open window to brace herself on the doorframe as the Impala carves out some rural dirt. Momentum shifts her a few inches across the leather toward him, sweet-salty shampoo and cherry chapstick scent of her dusty in the dry late summer afternoon wrapping him up like a boa constrictor, like tentacles, and he’s gotta immediately stop that connection because tying this moment to his Japanese erotica is going to fry his brain so bad he might actually have to pull over.

           “See? I knew you’d like it,” she half-howls over the radio, laughing like nothing in this world matters except whether Dean’ll listen to some dumb song for her, and the sliver of tongue that catches the glisten of sunlight as she does is making Dean feel sort of queasy the way he did at 16, snuck into a bar with his dad as a reward for a hunt gone well and trying his best not to stare at the soft swells of the bartender’s body as she shook a tumbler of Vegas bombs, winking at him from across the room. John had made some half-joke about being careful with girls like that and Dean knew he was just being confronted with his son growing up, but he’d heard him loud and clear—a girl like that will drive you crazy, make you eat yourself up with want from the inside out. In that bar he’d been grateful for the low lighting and high top table to shield the physical weakness of his want but he’s a grown ass man now and he thinks maybe going crazy wouldn’t be so bad, maybe he could throw Baby in park and all the good karma he’s ever racked up would bless him in that moment, let him taste that tongue catching tiny sparks of sun beautiful and dirty and impossible to resist like a diamond from the dark mine of her mouth, feel that fucking voice vibrate under his fingertips as he tangled himself into the brambles of her.

           And then the bridge is over. She’s turned the volume back up and is pulling exaggerated rock star faces as she sings to him. It takes a second before Dean realizes smile you fucking idiot and is sure he’s grimacing, hopes that the sunny day is enough to cover the flush he can feel in his cheeks and what the fuck is wrong with him? She’s not a siren, not some fuck-you-so-good-you-don’t-care-if-she-boils-your-bunny chick across a smoky bar, those jeans aren’t magic and in fact they were washed with his, ‘I don’t want to do a whole load, just let me throw my shit in with yours’ while she sat on the laundromat counter in worn cartoon pajama pants. That tongue—fuck, her tongue, why does this fucking song have so many “L” sounds in it—is the same one that sticks out round and juvenile like Charlie Brown’s when she’s reading something complicated.

           When the song ends Dean’s white knuckling the steering wheel like he’s in a tropical storm and he can’t help but feel relieved. Back to the safety of his tapes, who would never try to pull whatever black magic bullshit that was on him. He takes a deep breath and promises himself to get laid at the next chance he gets lest he seriously fuck up like some hormone-stupid teenager. She’s put in a Chicago B side and he says a silent prayer because that’s exactly the kind of soft-sappy he needs to counteract this. Enough even that he trusts himself to confirm that it’s over, that momentary frenzy nothing but a blip of testosterone fueled by her disclosing a hidden talent. Maybe he can even compliment how well she sings without sounding like he wants to crawl inside her.

           He almost does a double take when it’s still—like that, filter of unbelievable need unmoved from any part of her and he wants to fucking eat her alive, let her flay him open and wear him like a coat if that’s what she wants and he knows he is so fucked.  She’s turned down Chicago to tell him something cool Sam figured out about snow spirits and yeti mythology the other day and it’s all he can do to focus on the right times to make vaguely affirmative noises or smile, because he’s trying to work out in his head how he’s going to be able to keep his brother from reading on his face how bad he’s got it the second they walk through the motel door. For all he knows Sam is going to say some slick shit about how he’s happy Dean’s finally figured it out for himself, the fucking know-it-all.

           It takes a second for him to catch it when she asks him a question, and she looks a twinge concerned when he doesn’t respond right away. Gonna have to do better than that, dumbass. “Sorry, what?”

           “You feeling okay? You look like you’re going to be sick.”

           Not if I can help it. “Yeah, sorry. Just, ah, need a sandwich or something, I’m starving.”

           She throws her head back into the seat to laugh and a million coins pouring out of a Vegas jackpot couldn’t sound more precious. “We ate like an hour ago!” She shakes her head teasingly back at him, wide smile beaming like a dentist’s ad. “I fucking love you, dork.”

           He knows it’s not what she means, but he lets the words make his blood run hot.

-

Thanks again for reading! If you liked it, check out my Masterlist or send me a request!

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[pinknatural]

Dean tries, really tries, to think of it as a present. Finally, his dad is letting loose on the ropes a bit, finally letting him hunt on his own. But it’s kinda hard to convince himself when his dad sent him in with the case already figured out, with everything but the manual labor already done. 

It’s more like an errand he wants me to complete, Dean thinks resentfully, digging his shovel into the soft dirt. Happy birthday, go dig up two graves. Have fun! 

Dean huffs and pivots to the grave beside the other one. According to Dean’s research, the nuns had wanted to be buried together, but when the convent found their bodies they hadn’t really gone for that option. They had been buried next to each other, though, which makes Dean’s job just a little bit easier. 

He starts digging, even though he hasn’t finished digging out the first grave. You gotta dig ‘em up at the same time, ‘cause if you gank one then her lover gets angry, and the last thing Dean needs is an angry ghost harassing him while he digs up a grave. He can’t help but think that those other nuns should’ve buried them together. Not just because it would make Dean’s life easier, but because they wanted it. Because they were in love, and they killed themselves, and the convent owed them that much. 

Dean inhales, then exhales, his breath escaping in a little white cloud. It’s chilly, ‘cause it’s January, but it’s not too cold. He’s not wearing gloves or anything but he can still feel his hands. He shifts to the other grave and starts digging. 

He remembers what Charlie at the last school said about what his dad got him for his seventeenth birthday--a new car. Lindsey got a fancy necklace. Jake’s birthday hadn’t come up yet, but he’d been hoping for a dog. All Dean has is blisters on his fingers and a sore back from when the ghost of Sister Felicity threw him into a bookcase while he was retrieving the prayer book the nuns’d passed notes to each other in. That book, which had notes in the margins of their love, is gone now. Dean burned it.

Tears sting at Dean’s eyes. He must’ve been too soft, about Jake. He must’ve--something must’ve given him away. Why else would he be punished like this?

He knows, Dean thinks. He knows, he knows, he knows. It becomes a mantra, moving in time with his shovel. He switches graves. 

It’s just that it’s his birthday. The message--the warning--would’ve gotten across regardless, Dean thinks. But why, of all days, why his birthday? Why can’t Dean have a fucking break for once? 

Seventeen sucks, Dean thinks, hitting the first coffin. He climbs out of the hole and switches to the other one. It supremely sucks. Sixteen you get a drivers’ license, eighteen you can, like, vote or whatever, but seventeen is nothing. Just a bunch of shit. 

He knows, he knows, he knows. 

Dean hits the second coffin and breaks it open. The bones are like the ones in Sister Perpetua’s grave--pale and gross, just like most bones are. Dean doesn’t know why he kind of expected different. He climbs out and throws his shovel aside, picks up the thing of salt. He dumps it on one grave, then the other. Lighter fluid, next. Dean’s done this before. Even if Dad and Sammy are usually here, Dean knows how this goes. 

He takes the matchbook from his pocket, strikes one and drops it, then the other. The graves light up, the flame flickering bright and warm, and Dean thinks he hears screaming. He drops to his knees and whispers, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

He realizes that he’s still crying, that tears have run down his face, and for the first time on this supremely shitty birthday, he’s glad to be alone, kneeling between the graves of two women who were in love, twin fires burning bright on either side of him. 

-

Dean wakes up slowly, as he often does these days. There’s a warm blanket around his shoulders, and under that a heavy arm slung over his waist. Sometimes Dean remembers the days he was too antsy to even get under the covers, ready to jump into action at any minute, and it all seems so absurd. 

Light trickles in softly from the window across the room, and the arm around Dean’s waist tightens. Dean turns, slow, smiling already at the sight he knows will greet him. 

Cas is kind of awake, squinting at him but smiling, his hair ruffled and sticking out everywhere, and Dean feels sort of like he might burst. 

“Mmm,” he says. “Good morning.” He stretches his own arm around Cas’s shoulders and draws the man closer to him, Cas’s arm shifting from it’s loose hold to pull their chests together. 

“Happy birthday, Dean,” Cas says, his voice even lower, rough from sleep. Dean grins, tucks his face under Cas’s chin to hide it. 

“Every day’s my birthday when I get to wake up to the best present ever laying in my bed,” Dean says, even though that’s ridiculously sappy and also doesn’t make sense. 

“I am not a present, Dean,” Cas says, and Dean makes a ‘hmm’ noise. 

“I was talking about Miracle, dumbass,” he says, nudging the sleeping dog in question with his toes.

“Of course you were,” Cas says indulgently, like he’s just humoring him. Which is fair, possibly. Dean thinks that Cas spends a lot of time just humoring him. 

“Do you know what time it is?” Dean asks, shifting his arm to touch the back of Cas’s neck, right at the spot where his t-shirt meets his skin.

“It doesn’t matter,” Cas says, holding him tighter like he thinks Dean will get out of bed, which is quite frankly an absurd idea. It’s a Sunday, and it’s his birthday. Dean has nowhere else to be.

“It might, since Sammy’s coming over today,” Dean says, even though Sam and Eileen are coming over in the late afternoon and it’s definitely still morning.

“Well, it’s not time for them to come yet,” Cas says. “We can get up later.”

Dean definitely agrees, and he snuggles back down into Cas, getting even more comfortable. He’s just thinking about falling back asleep, maybe, deciding that this is his best birthday ever, even though it’s only been like ten minutes, when he remembers his worst birthday and has to pause. 

“Dean?” Cas asks. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m…” Dean noses against him, taking a deep breath. “You read my...my dad’s journal?”

“Yes,” Cas says warily. The journal is usually safe, but Cas can get pissy when John Winchester is mentioned. 

“You remember my seventeenth birthday?” Dean asks, and then all of a sudden his angel is trying to squeeze the life out of him. Dean appreciates it, even though he can’t really breathe. 

“I remember,” Cas growls, and Dean pats his shoulder. 

“I was just thinking about how that was the worst, and this is the best,” Dean says, and Cas relaxes his hold a little. “I, uh...that day felt like a huge warning. And now I’m here, with you, and, uh, it’s pretty awesome, not gonna lie.”

“John Winchester deserves to rot in hell for eternity for what he did to you and Sam,” Cas says. “But I am glad to be here with you, and I agree that it’s pretty awesome.”

“I love you,” Dean says, helpess as he always is in the face of Cas’s protectiveness. 

“I love you too,” Cas says, moving a hand to tenderly cradle Dean’s jaw. He begins to guide Dean’s head towards his, and Dean is so sorry to interrupt, but--

“Do you smell pancakes?” he asks, and Cas pauses, considering. 

“Yes,” he says finally. 

“Well, if I’m here in bed, and you’re here in bed, and Miracle, I’m pretty sure, can’t make pancakes, and is also in bed, then who…”

“Jack,” they say together, and Dean laughs. 

“Do we trust Jack with the stove?”

“He is God,” Cas says, but that doesn’t sound like a ‘yes’. They look at each other and then sigh, rolling apart so they can get out of bed. 

“We’ll continue this later,” Dean says, pointing at Cas, who nods. 

“Of course,” he says, and he reaches out and grabs Dean’s shirt, pulling him in for a sadly-brief kiss. “Happy birthday.”

Dean beams at him, and then they go downstairs to help their son make pancakes without burning the house down, Miracle bounding down the stairs beside them, and Dean can’t help but agree with his earlier assessment--that this is his best birthday ever. 

(ao3)