#at least I played stray lol!

[ratwars]

I choose you! Fukuchi!

[fingertipsmp3]

I love the sims 2 because it will completely wreck your shit right when you’re least expecting it

[todayisafridaynight]

Hey so ive been this reading this manga called "ojisama to neko" ( eng: "a man and his cat" ) and its sosososo cute so sweet 10/10 would recommend also THE MAIN MAN LOOKS. KINDA LIKE SAWASHIRO EVEN IF THEIR PERSONALITIES COULDNT BE MORE FAR APART. His name is Fuyuki Kanda and he is very dear to me just thought to share hope u have a wonderful day

NOOOO I LOVE OJISAMA TO NEKO SO MUCH !!!! I REMEMBER WHEN IT FIRST CAME OUT YEARS AGO AND I REALLY WANTED PHYSICAL COPIES OF IT DESPITE IT BEING ONLY IN JAPANESE AT THE TIME AAAAAA SUCH A GOOD SERIES I LOVE FUKUMARU SO MUCH….

[redjaybird]

[also now that im not stressing over getting a project done, at some point i wanna work on a p.ersona verse, and also i gotta work on Violet (especially since father's day is coming >>)]

[pyrriax]

this fucking SONG has such a grip on me. why am i genuinely crying bc of this song. (i blame the scene[s] i associate it with)

[nereidprinc3ss]

weber's law

in which spencer reid comforts fem!reader when she's having a panic attack at the rossi mansion

fluff warnings/tags: panic attack lol, spencer is really cute and sweet my little perfect cutie pie angel baby, classic spencer info dumps bc they're pretty much his love language, established relationship, cheesy and sweet at the end a/n: this one is for my queens with panic disorders who are triggered by literally nothing and everything i see you have this ilysm

When Spencer had invited you to a small get-together at Rossi’s, you’d imagined a small get-together at Rossi’s. 

And maybe that makes you a complete idiot. 

Or maybe Spencer is just so used to FBI work functions that to him, this really is small.

But now you’re sitting on an expensive couch in a very nice house, and you’re surrounded by FBI agents who are all milling around and talking and laughing, and you’re worried maybe your outfit doesn’t look as nice on you as you’d thought it did, and you keep having very vivid visions of spilling your drink all over a furry throw rug that probably costs more than your rent does. 

Music that could reasonably be considered relaxing or at the very least not objectionable plays over the sound system throughout the whole house and thus is inescapable—not that you’d get up from the couch even if you could, because Spencer is sitting to your right and he has his hand on your thigh and it’s the only thing that has until this point been keeping you from a full blown panic attack.

Maybe that makes you a complete idiot, too.

Regardless, you try to focus on nothing but the weight of his hand as it travels slowly up and down from knee to hip over the jeans you’re not so sure about, and the feeling of your breath coming and going, as slow as you can possibly summon it without passing out. 

Spencer is laughing at something JJ is saying as she stands next to the couch with Will and you really like JJ but her voice seems so loud right now, and nothing is going particularly wrong but everything feels so, so wrong it’s scary. 

All the buzzing tension in your body telling you to run away because you’re unsafe and at the same time locking you into place builds until you have to express it somehow. So you revert to an old habit—bouncing your leg rapidly like a rabbit thumping its foot. It’s not entirely conscious, but it feels better than being completely still. That is, until Spencer’s hand strays inward and cups just above your inner knee, where he begins fanning his thumb back and forth over the fabric. 

“What’s this?” he murmurs, head angled toward you and voice low enough to not draw attention. You force yourself to plant your heel to the ground even though it worsens the feeling of gears crunching in your chest. 

“Nothing. Sorry.”

That gets his attention. 

Because of course it does. He’s always telling you to stop saying sorry so often. 

His tone solidifies, still quiet but committed to this conversation now and no longer the whispery apparition of a quick aside. 

“Why are you sorry?” 

“I don’t know, it wasn’t—it’s nothing.”

You barely avoid apologizing again. 

For a moment he doesn’t speak, just watches you—and you make the mistake of raising your gaze to meet his. He has that curious, analytical look about him, concern tightening his eyes and knitting his brow. He’s doing that annoying mind-reading thing again, and as soon as he actually sees your eyes, he’s figured you out. 

“Do you want to go outside for a minute? Get some air?”

After examining his face for any clues that he’d rather stay in here, (not that you’d really know what to look for), you nod hesitantly. Spencer mirrors your nod and stands, holding out his hand for you to take as you follow suit after setting your drink on a side table (without spilling.)

JJ is now wrapped up in conversation with another agent and the two of you manage to abscond without attracting unwanted attention, which makes you feel slightly better as Spencer leads you deftly through rooms with high-vaulted ceilings and big windows and heavy, expensive looking oak furniture. It seems like you’ve been wandering through a maze when you arrive to a quieter part of the house and he opens a french door for you—which leads out onto an empty patio. 

A cool breeze immediately sinks into your skin, and your nervous system is so hyper-alert that it gives you chills. Spencer notices the way you shiver and steps closer after closing the door behind him, his hand finding the small of your back immediately. 

“You okay?” he asks, intentionally avoiding impeding your view of the sweeping backyard and the trees beyond. Sometimes focusing on something stationary is less overwhelming, but they’re so tall they seem imposing. Threatening, even. 

But then again, everything feels threatening right now. 

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

Spencer seems unconvinced by your monotone—when you glance over at him he’s still watching you like you’re a puzzle to be solved. 

“Are you sure? You can tell me if you’re not.”

“Why are you so convinced something is wrong?” you laugh, but it comes out too manic. You cross your arms. He looks pointedly at the motion. 

“For starters, that. Often times crossing your arms is a subconscious way of comforting yourself when you feel defensive or threatened. And you could say it’s because you’re cold, but—” he pauses, reaching out to touch your cheek. “I can feel how hot your face is, and you shivered when we came outside even though it’s 71 degrees because your nervous system is overreacting to external stimuli. The leg-bouncing is also often indicative of an activated parasympathetic nervous system. Is me touching you okay?”

Again, you nod—unsure how to deflect when he calls you out so efficiently. 

Spencer’s hand slides down to just beneath your jaw, where he rests two fingers. Each second that passes has him looking progressively more worried. You wish you weren’t quite so catatonic—the fairy lights hanging from the pergola shine through his hair and make him glow so appealingly you want to kiss his cheek. 

“Your heart rate is really high, honey.”

That would be due to the sense of impending doom. Thanks for pointing it out.

But you’ve lost your words, and along with them has gone your sense of humor. All you can manage for a 30 second span is a meaningless shake of your head as you avert your eyes, staring at the sprawling carpet of blue-green grass soaked in night as each blade doubles with your tears. 

“I think I’m dying,” you finally croak.

“Technically, we all are. Very slowly.”

Ah. There’s that social tact he’s so well known for. 

“Spencer.”

“Right,” he kisses your cheek as you stare up at him, affronted, and pulls you into his chest. “Sorry. I was actually trying to be helpful. Changes in brain chemistry and hormonal activity associated with panic attacks change your perception of time and make things feel really fast which can contribute to feelings of anxiety. But in reality time is moving just the same as it always is. One second is always one second. Sometimes remembering that helps me to slow down. Not literally, of course. My gravitational pull isn’t great enough to have any discernible effect on the passage of time.”

You sniff, pressing your cheek to his tie. His words make your head spin, seeing as you hadn't been prepared for a lecture in psychophysics—but it spins in the opposite direction than it had been going previously. It's nice.

“Change your perception of time?”

“Weber’s law of perception. Stimulus sensitivity will increase proportionally with increased stimulus intensity. You’re only perceiving time to be going faster because your cortisol and adrenaline levels are making you hyper-vigilant and sensitive to all the markers of time passing.”

“Like what?”

Spencer hums, the bass of it a comforting resonance against your ear, and strokes your hair unhurriedly. 

“Like… your internal clock. Your body measures time with your heartbeat, so when your heart rate increases, time seems to go faster. Also environmental cues, which lead you to understand that the world is not stagnant and thus is not frozen in time. Like the sound of the wind chimes…” he pauses, long enough for you to realize that indeed, you can hear the gentle, sonorous ringing and tinkling of steel chimes bouncing against each other. “And the wind itself, which is coming all the way from the Gulf of Mexico. Some studies actually suggest that wind direction can affect your energy levels and mood.”

It’s a gentle breeze more than it is full-blown wind. It feels cool against your hot skin. 

Spencer’s hand on the back of your head, still rhythmically smoothing your hair, seems to slow down the passage of time as well. You focus on that, and the sound of the wind chimes and the breeze on your skin for a few minutes, until your breathing and your heart rate slow and soon you regain your footing in the temporal dimension, exactly sure of where you stand on Rossi’s patio and in your boyfriend’s arms. 

“You tricked me into doing a grounding exercise,” you mumble into Spencer’s jacket. 

“I did not trick you,” he defends, voice quiet to match yours. “I just wanted to make you feel better. Did it work?”

You pull away from him and he lets you, watching on as you sniffle and wipe your tears on your sleeves. 

“Yeah, it did. Thank you.”

For a moment, neither of you speak as you gather yourself. He leads you by the hand to a cushioned hanging bench at the end of the patio, taking a seat next to you and gently rocking the swing. 

“Do you know what triggered that?” Spencer asks, over the gentle creaking sound. You shrug, observing the dance of the fireflies in the grass. 

“Nothing. Sometimes I just feel like everything’s wrong and scary but I didn’t want to tell you and ruin your night.”

“Hey,” Spencer murmurs, pulling you into him with an arm around your shoulder. “You are not ruining my night. I don’t want you to worry about that.”

“But all your friends and coworkers are inside, and you’re out here with me.”

He angles his head down toward you and you look up to meet his eyes, even warmer than the sticky summer night. 

“I am. Do you know why?”

“Because I suck,” you sniffle, more hot tears rolling down your cheeks as you attempt to look away. But Spencer’s not having it. He encourages you to sit up again so you can look at him properly, before wiping tears away gently with his thumb. When he speaks, it’s in soft, soothing tones. 

“No. I’m out here because if all my friends were inside having fun, and you were outside having a panic attack, I would choose you every time.”

You manage a laugh through the crying. 

“I don’t know if that’s healthy.”

“Whether or not it’s healthy is an entirely different discussion,” Spencer smiles wryly, before it melts into something softer and more sincere. “All that matters is that it’s true.”

For a while after that, you simply lay your head on his shoulder. Spencer controls the speed of the swing with his much-longer legs, kissing your head and rubbing your arm as you admire the expanse of Rossi’s lush yard bathed in moonlight and the black silhouette of the forest beyond. 

Eventually, Spencer speaks again, likely to make sure you’re not spiraling alone in your head. 

“Can I tell you an extremely classified secret that I've been trying really hard to keep to myself for three days?” he asks, and the mischievous edge to his voice catches your attention. You hum in assent, already wondering what kind of information Spencer would have a hard time keeping to himself. It could be anything. 

“Anderson is sleeping with Childers from Operational Tech.”

“What?”

Despite not working for the FBI yourself, Spencer and Penelope have you so filled in on the drama that you know exactly why that’s shocking. 

You pick your head up to look at him like do not fuck with me right now. 

His eyes sparkle as he nods.

“Yep.”

“Didn’t you tell me Childers was dating that girl in sex crimes?”

Spencer raises his eyebrows. The corner of his mouth twitches. You gasp. 

“No! What? Does Anderson know?”

“I don’t know. I certainly didn’t want to be the one to tell him.”

“Wait—Anderson told you this?”

“Yeah!” He laughs incredulously at your complete disbelief. “People tell me things! I’m an excellent confidant!”

“If you’re relaying all of this information to me then you’re a terrible confidant,” you chuckle, still watery—but feeling light years better. 

Spencer brushes your hair away from your face fondly, leaning a fraction of an inch closer. 

“You don’t count. Telling you secrets is basically the same as keeping them to myself.”

“Basically,” you tease, angling your head up by a few degrees in invitation. Spencer says nothing, does nothing for a long moment—just studies you with soft eyes, continues stroking your cheek. When he takes too long to kiss you, you get impatient. “I’m still kinda anxious, you know.”

He smiles knowingly.  

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” you nod, looking pointedly at his lips. “You should kiss me better.”

“I think that would take more than just one kiss,” he murmurs through a smile, leaning ever closer until your noses are bumping. “I think I would have to devote several hours to that. Maybe even a whole day.”

“How does tomorrow look for you?” 

He’s laughing as he finally presses his lips to yours. The kiss is sweet and lingering. 

“For you? It’s wide open.”

[moonchild9350]

Napping With Stray Kids

Summary: Just my thoughts on napping with Skz!

Pairing: OT8 idol Stray Kids x reader

Word Count: 881

Genre: fluff, suggestive

Warnings: none (shocking for me lol)

Notes: This was fun to write and had to put something together real quick before life gets busy again! I'm happy this came up in our convos @jeonginsleftcheek! I hope you guys like it!

Likes, reblogs, and comments welcomed as always :)

Please do not copy, translate, modify, use, or repost this work elsewhere without my permission. ©moonchild9350 (2024)

Bangchan We all know Bangchan has insomnia and doesn’t sleep well or much at all but he’s more than happy to at least try to nap with you if you suggest it. He’ll hold off on his never ending to do list, because he’ll do anything for his baby girl. You snuggle into his arms, as he pulls the blankets up and around you to keep you warm. His fingers lightly drag up and down your spine, soothing you. He’ll even sing you a song to help you fall asleep if you want. Tucking your head into his chest, your breathing starts to slow as you fall asleep. Chan tries, he really does, to fall asleep and nap with you but he’s perfectly content watching you sleep in his arms.

Lee Know I’m convinced that if you try to nap with Minho, sleep won’t come right away. He’ll try and tickle you knowing how ticklish you are, giggling as you squirm and grab a pillow to throw it at him. He’ll tackle you and press kisses all over your face while you laugh and tell him to stop (even though you don’t want him to, not really). After retrieving the pillows off the floor, you’ll both settle in, Minho wrapping his arms around your waist and snuggling his head into your neck. If you’re lucky the kids will come nap with you guys too, Soonie napping by both of your heads, Doongie at your feet, and Dori snuggling into your side.

Changbin Changbin would be one to be watching videos on his phone like tik tok or YouTube and would giggle every two seconds at something funny. Every time you close your eyes to nap, his giggle would fill the room causing you to open your eyes and laugh back with him. You can’t help it, he’s just so darn cute! Eventually you do fall asleep, your head resting on your chest. Binnie notices you’re asleep (which is a miracle honestly because the man can’t multitask to save his life) and tries his best not to make a sound, you just look so peaceful and he wants to make sure his baby gets plenty of rest.

Hyunjin I believe that napping with Hyunjin would be the most poetic? Like you’re all curled up in his bed, blanket wrapped around you, your hair fanned out on his pillow. He’s sitting at his desk painting, cause when is he not. But you don’t mind. You watch him for a while, the way his hands move around the paper, the little face he makes when the color doesn’t come out the way he wants. You eventually drift off to sleep. Hyunjin notices, and smiles, happy you’re here with him. Little do you know, you’re sleeping form is the subject of his painting, as he thinks you look like an angel.

Han Han is the certified nap man, this is no secret. He is always down for a nap, add you in the equation and he’s the happiest man on earth. He’ll pull you into his arms, pressing sweet kisses and nuzzling his head into your neck. It doesn’t take long for you both to fall asleep. You’re just so cute together. And bonus points for the members if you guys fall asleep at the studio. They’re ohhhing and awwing at you two love birds, fast asleep together.

Felix On his off days, he’s at his computer, playing Genshin. It’s really the only time he has to play. But the moment you come over, he logs off and he goes to snuggle with you. You love looking at Felix’s face, tracing his freckles while he looks deep into your eyes. You’re both just so in love with each other. Your eyes slowly close, perfectly content in his arms. Felix would lean down to press a kiss on your nose, before closing his own eyes. He finds he sleeps best when you’re by his side.

Seungmin Now Seungmin could go both ways when it comes to napping with you. He could be a total menace by poking your face and tickling you. Making fun of your protests (lovingly of course) and not letting you sleep. Or he could be the exact opposite, a sweet puppy, pulling you close and softy singing you a song to help lull you to sleep. Either way he will end of falling asleep with you, mind blown at how he could have ended up with such a sweet person as you.

I.N. Now Jeongin is a middle child and hates skinship, this we all know. But I’m convinced if he’s going to snuggle and fall asleep with someone it’s you, the love of his life. It’s different when you touch him, he craves your touch more than he thought possible. He makes sure you’re all tucked in, nice and warm, but not so much so that he can’t feel you anymore. You’ll laugh at his actions, telling him you’re fine as long as he’s there. He doesn’t listen, he wants to make sure you have a nice rest and being warm and comfortable is part of that. To top it all off, he’ll drape your legs over his, and wrap his arms around you as you both drift off to sleep.

Taglist: @jehhskz @jeonginsleftcheek

[manikas-whims]

request for LADS

what if u have to fake date the guys for some reason but its starts becomin difficult for ur heart cuz you start catching feelings

thank you 🙏

thanks for this request! ♡ i went a lil overboard with this LOL. WARNING ⚠️ long post..

Fake Dating the Love and Deepspace men but you catch feelings pt. 1

ZAYNE

❄️ Tara keeps trying to set you up with one of her colleagues, and no matter how subtle she acts about it, you're getting tired of it. Thus, you come to this decision! You request Zayne to play your fake boyfriend for a while.

❄️ The matter of his own feelings aside, Zayne just thinks that fake dating someone to avoid potential dates is incredibly crazy. “You can simply ask your friend to stop.”

❄️ His suggestion is baffling. You feel like an idiot for ignoring the obvious solution. But only a moment later realize that even asking her to stop won't likely deter Tara. At least not until she sees you with a person better than any of her chosen candidates.

❄️ So you decide to let go of the little self-respect you have and beg Zayne to do this for you. He is amused by this ridiculous proposition but agrees nonetheless since he can never really say no to you.

❄️ It's an amazing experience cause Zayne is the perfect boyfriend anyone could ever ask for— handsome, smart, caring, strict when needed, protective and very accommodating.

❄️ The first time Tara meets him, her eyes literally glow with admiration. And she pats your back like a proud aunt, winking suggestively as she does so.

❄️ However, Zayne has always been great at adapting to the situations at hand and soon your arrangement starts becoming a bit of a problem for your delicate heart.

❄️ It is one thing to show him off to your colleagues. But Zayne has started doing stuff like dropping you home everyday after work, his only explanation being “that's what he would do if he was your REAL boyfriend”.

❄️ And this isn't all. He's taking breaks in the afternoon to have lunch with you everyday and make sure you don't miss any meals. He slips your hand inside his coat pocket on particularly colder days. He even focuses on the little things like wiping a coffee stain from your bottom lip or gently pushing the stray strands of hair behind your ear. All this while, his explanation is: it's what he would do if he were your real boyfriend. And you aren't sure your heart will manage long if this goes on.

❄️ The real issue arises when one of your colleagues point out how they've never seen you kiss. And this makes Tara perk-up too.

❄️ In your defense, you spout some nonsense about how Zayne is kinda shy by nature and doesn't believe in PDA much. “When we're alone, he's very passionate.”

❄️ This leads to Tara and a bunch of colleagues secretly tailing you when Zayne comes to pick you up one evening. For they also wanna see this passionate side of him.

❄️ “Um..Zayne, can we kiss?” You whisper, your eyes averted, and fingers fiddling in nervousness. Its not that you are worried about the "kissing" part. Thats easy. You are actually worried about kissing Zayne.

❄️ As for Zayne, he is confused and shocked at first. Even blushes a little. But thanks to his perceptive nature, he quickly spots your colleagues and understands.

❄️ So as you clumsily teeter closer to him and raise yourself on your feet to reach his height, he chuckles at your efforts as well as the pained expression on your face.

❄️ “Relax.” He commands and magically, his words do calm your nerves a little.

❄️ He smiles then, his big arms wrapping smoothly around your waist as he lowers his head and lets his lips gently linger against yours, igniting a desire within you.

❄️ When he finally pulls back moments later, you nearly loose your footing.

❄️ This is it. The last shred of your sanity blown away. It may have only been a few moments but the kiss leaves an impact on you. Your heart can't take it anymore. Because you enjoyed the kiss more than you should have. And its made you realise that you may have actual feelings for Zayne.

XAVIER

⭐ There's this creepy resident at your apartment complex who's been trying to make moves on you but he's just been so nice and subtle about it that you have no idea how to turn him down. Thus, instead of that, you ask Xavier to play your fake boyfriend for a while.

⭐ “This doesn't seem like a good idea.” He says, hesitantly scratching his cheek.

⭐ Xavier also believes beating the shit out of the guy is a better option, and a permanent solution. But again, you can't do that because the guy hasn't actually done anything threatening or concerning. Thus, any sort of unwarranted violence against such a guy will only result in more problems for Xavier and You.

⭐ So Xavier sighs, and nods with a smile. “Fine. What do you need me to do?”

⭐ “Just do things only a boyfriend would do whenever that guy is around.” You tell him and he nods.

⭐ And so it starts with you dragging Xavier out for morning laps and evening walks around the complex, and you always make sure to hold onto Xavier's arm whenever you spot the strange guy.

⭐ But as the days go by, you sense as if Xavier may be a little too good at his new job.

⭐ One evening as you are working out at the gym on the top floor of the apartment complex, the guy walks in and approaches you. To your annoyance, he begins his usual small talk. But he's barely strung two words together when you feel the warmth of a hand gliding along your waist.

⭐ You look up to find Xavier, his clothes sweaty from workout. He tucks his chin on top off your head, his arm around your waist tightening ever so slightly. “Do you know this guy?”

⭐ It takes a moment for you to realise you're gawking! At the same guy you had asked to pretend to be your boyfriend. And it's not just his fingers stroking circles on your belly but also the way his voice sounds more intimate!??

⭐ Quickly, you compose yourself and stammer a response. “N-Not really. He's a resident just like us.”

⭐ And with that said, you're being steered out of the gym, Xavier's arm never leaving your waist.

⭐ Ever since you've known him, he rarely breaches your personal space without permission. A gentleman through and through. It's you who's been messing with his hair, squishing his cheeks and poking his chest to tease him all this time.

⭐ But ever since you asked him to play boyfriend, he's the one initiating skinship at the most unexpected moments. It's as if this fake dating arrangement has given him a free pass to do everything he usually holds back from.

⭐ Now he holds your hand whenever you're walking together, idly plays with your hair strands when hanging out at your place, and ALWAYS makes sure his arms are around your waist or face nuzzling your neck in the presence of that strange guy.

⭐ You may have been the one who requested him to do this but you aren't so sure about this whole thing anymore.

⭐ A few weeks have passed but the guy is persistent. Now he's always trying to find you when he's sure Xavier won't be around.

⭐ “It's not working. We need to do something more convincing.” You say in a deflated tone. You and Xavier are standing in the hallway of your floor, having just returned from a mission.

⭐ And that creep is lurking at the end of the floor by the elevator, waiting for Xavier to leave so he can ask you out yet again.

⭐ Xavier tucks a hand under his chin, his nose scrunching in thought. “Something more you say..”

⭐ Then in the very next moment, he pushes you against your own apartment door, a hand coming to rest upon it to keep you in place; his other hand gently cradles your face, arching it slightly before he presses his lips against your own.

⭐ Only a moment later he pulls away, then kisses you again. This time with more fervor than needed to fake it. And when he breaks the kiss again, his lips gravitate towards your neck.

⭐ “Xa..Xavier..?” You're stunned. You're not even sure how you are meant to react.

⭐ Xavier pushes away from you slightly and turns his head, his gaze directed right at the strange man. “She’s mine.” He asserts.

⭐ The man is as shocked as you are and immediately runs away.

⭐ Xavier looks back at you and flashes his usual soft smile. “This should convince him enough.”

⭐ Seriously!? Who cares about that guy anymore? Your heart is the most convinced that you may possibly be falling for Xavier.

RAFAYEL

🌊 “Miss Bodyguard, would you like to date me?” Rafayel asks one day out of the blue, and you are left feeling equal parts flustered and confused because WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK!?

🌊 He enjoys watching you trying to act nonchalant when your fidgety movements and flushed cheeks clearly tell him otherwise.

🌊 Finally he explains how he has accumulated quite the fanbase, thanks to not just his art but his gorgeous looks. And now these same loving fans are becoming slightly toxic with how they stalk him around, making it impossible for him to even go out in peace. Aa such, he wants to promote you from the position of his bodyguard to fake girlfriend.

🌊 You don't like the sound of it. You can already smell trouble from afar but you know he'll keep pestering until you relent. So you agree to it in the end.

🌊 Only later you realise what you've actually gotten yourself into.

🌊 Rafayel is already kinda clingy by nature but now that you've agreed to his dating charade, he's fully taking advantage of it.

🌊 Everytime he drags you out to a public spot, he makes sure that the two of you hold hands. And rather than going to places that may inspire him for his paintings, he drags you to expensive fashion brands stores.

🌊 Even as you refuse to let him buy any of it, he makes you try on the outfits for hours, making you turn this way and that, asking you to pose in specific ways as he snaps numerous photographs (which he'll definitely use as reference for his portraits of you). And just when you think it's over with all the fancy clothes, he makes you try on footwear next.

🌊 He's also buying you all these gifts you never asked for. He's basically spoiling you with things you can't otherwise afford.

🌊 He's also posting a lot of cringe yet cutesy couple photos with you on his social media accounts.

🌊 And you may not admit it but you are beginning to enjoy being spoilt like this.

🌊 Weeks pass without you even realising. This arrangement is becoming more and more dangerous for your heart. Because lets be honest Rafayel may be enjoying playing around with you like this but the same can't be said for you. You know that if this goes on any longer, your heart is bound to make space for him.

🌊 “How much longer do we need to keep this up?” You ask one day.

🌊 He merely winks at you. “Just a little longer.”

🌊 You try your best to keep your emotions in check. You just need to endure him and his charm for a little longer. Heck! You kill wanderers for a living so the matters of heart shouldn't be anymore difficult than that. Right? Right?

🌊 Oh how foolish you are.

🌊 It happens during a private gala Rafayel is invited to and of course as his “girlfriend”, you're supposed to go with him.

🌊 That, and the other reason being this crazy musician who will be there. Apparently she's been hitting on Rafayel for a while now, and your appearance may finally make her retreat.

🌊 So there, amidst the crowd of snobbish strangers, Rafayel asks you for a dance. And in the dim glow of the hall, paired with a slow, romantic tune, he feels closer than he is. And it happens..your resolve falters.

🌊 He wiggles a brow towards the corner of the room, and surely enough, you spot the aforementioned crazy musician. Indeed, she doesn't seem very happy with the way Rafayel has his arms around you.

🌊 And to deliberately spur her further, he lowers his head. His breath is ticklish along your skin as he whispers in your ear. “You’ve moved along quite well to my tune. You're a good dancer.”

🌊 For some reason, you don't like those words. Rafayel complimenting you so freely cannot be a good sign.

🌊 “Just endure a little longer, Miss Bodyguard. Tonight will be the last run of this charade.”

🌊 Then he tucks a lose strand of hair behind your ear and leans his face in, his lips gently brushing along yours before pressing harder.

🌊 The kiss is slow and lingering, just like the song being played. But it seems that the moment you begin to give in and truly relish it, the moment ends. He pulls away and smiles.

🌊 Yet you can't muster enough strength to smile back for its happened. Your resolve is broken. Your heart has already reserved the best spot for him. And you aren't ready to let go of this charade any time soon..

here's [PART 2]

i have 4-5 more LADS requests to finish. i'm working on them and will post them soon ✌️😊

THANKS FOR READING ♡

SEND ME REQUESTS FOR LOVE & DEEPSPACE HEADCANONS VIA ASKS.

» MASTERLIST «

[mistiell]

Ok so, maybe you knew this already or maybe not, but... In the game, if you hover over Astarion's original outfit it says that it looks rather old and mended over several times. The running theory is that he's been reparing his own clothes (explains the cheeky embroidery in his underwear) , since we damn well know that Cazador would not give two hoots about it, and that poor baby has been running around in a 200 year old shirt and probably doesn't have much clothes with him. I just want something fluffy... maybe the reader always let's him have first dibs on whatever they find or even gets him new clothes. I just imagine him finding a brand new shirt on his tent that is soft and comfortable and I just want to weep in a corner 🥺

Can you help a sister out?

Here you are <33 (also, I'm so sorry this took so long lol) WC: 1.3k Also CW for potential spoilers

---

Astarion is slow to wake this morning, fully intending to lay with you in his tent as long as you’ll allow. Rolling over with his eyes still closed, he reaches to hook his arm around your waist only to grasp at nothing but air.

He’s certainly awake now.

It’s unusual to find you missing given he’s usually the first to wake between the two of you; two hundred years of living in The Underdark and only ever surfacing at night having apparently made him a little sensitive to light.

Sitting up and shifting onto his knees, he reaches to pull the tent flap back and peer out at the campfire. A small gust of the cool morning air sweeps over his bare torso, raising goosebumps over the skin of his arms despite the fact that he’s not really bothered by the cold. That little spike of anxiety dulls when he finds you haven’t strayed far; standing maybe fifteen feet away in conversation with Karlach.

As if you can sense him, you glance over and light up when you spot him peeking out of the tent, excusing yourself from the tiefling. He expects you to come straight over, but instead, you turn to grab a basket he hadn’t seen first.

He shuffles back to let you come inside, flushing a bit when you brush a few rogue curls from his face and bend to peck his hairline, “Good morning, handsome.”

“I- Good morning.” Is all he manages, still tired and a little stunned. Shifting off of his knees to sit cross-legged, he peers into the basket as you set it down in front of him and cocks a brow, “What’s this?”

“Clothes.”

“Well yes, I can see that, darling.” He sasses and you chortle, “But why have you brought me a basket of clothes?”

“I found it the last time we left camp.” He remembers that. You’d gone out with Karlach, Gale and Lae’zel and came back bloodied and bruised. He’d been so focused on getting you patched up that he hadn’t even thought of asking about what you might have found.

You clear your throat and glance away, smiling sheepishly, “I picked out some things I thought you’d like, but then I thought you might prefer to have a look through yourself, so,” You shrug and jerk your nose at the basket, “I brought you all of it.”

His heart would be stuttering in his chest if it could. Reaching into the pile, he thumbs over a few of the garments, feeling the different fabrics and looking over all the different colours. It’s been centuries since he’s had a choice in what to wear. Sure, he’s picked up some things throughout your travels but never so much all at once. It’s a little overwhelming, having all this to pick through after so long.

Taking hold of the basket, he pushes it closer to you, “Show me what you picked out first.”

“Oh,” Your heart rate spikes, and he smiles as you stutter out, “Are- Are you sure? I’m not sure you’d actually like what I picked out. That’s one of the reasons I brought you the whole basket.”

He scoffs and waves off the thought, “Nonsense. You could hand me the most distasteful outfit in all of Faerûn and I’d at least try it on for you.”

“Really?” “Of course I would.” He realises the implications of what he’s just said and tries to play off the sentiment with a puckish grin, gesturing towards himself, “It’s hard to not look good in something when you’re this beautiful.”

You laugh, eyes squinting shut with the force of your smile. “Yes, you truly are dashing, my love.”

“Stating the obvious, but I can’t complain,” You roll your eyes at him as he taps the sides of the basket, “Now, are you going to show me what you picked out? Or are you just going to sit here sing my praises? Personally, I’d be fine either way.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll get on with it,” Reaching into the clothes, your laughter tapers off as you glance back up at him timidly one last time, “But if you don’t like something, tell me, okay?”

He lays his palm flat against his sternum, all dramatics as he grins, “Cross my heart and hope to,” He pauses, before chuckling, “Well, die again, I suppose.”

He laughs when you shoot him a glare with no real malice behind it and tut disapprovingly.

He watches in quiet curiosity as you pull out a few items, explaining why you thought he’d like them as you go. Your reasons range from colours and patterns to embroidery and necklines, all of which are shockingly on par with his tastes. It appears you know him better than he thought you did.

“That’s about it, I think.” Your brows furrow in a way that is entirely too cute – especially for someone he’s watched eviscerate hoards of goblins – before you perk up with an excited gasp, “Oh! I almost forgot!”

Turning to look this way and that, you make a little sound of satisfaction when your gaze lands on your pack. Your shirt rides up a bit when you twist onto your knees to reach for it, and he stifles the urge to run his hand over the sliver skin it exposes. You rummage through a few pockets before finding what you’re looking for, returning to kneel in front of him with something hidden in your hand.

“Close your eyes.” You urge, and he does as you’ve asked.

“Ooh, saved the best for last, have you?” He grins, holding out his hands before you even ask.

You chuckle, sounding a little nervous, “Hopefully.”

He hears the tinkling of metal and nearly jumps when your hand makes contact with his, one cradling the backs of his while the other presses something small and rough into his palm.

“Open.” He can hear the smile in your voice as you say it.

On your command, he opens his eyes to find you’ve given him a necklace. The pendent is a little piece of a raw, orange crystal encircled by dainty gold rods that are bent to resemble branches.

“This is... beautiful.” He breathes, turning it over in his hand to admire the jagged edges, “What kind of crystal is it?”

“Sunstone.” He looks up at you then, finding a shy smile hung on your lips, “I know it’s a little on the nose but...,” You worry your bottom lip for a moment, clearly a little hesitant to continue, “I know you’re worried about... what’ll happen once the tadpoles are removed. So, I wanted to get you something just in case. It’s not the same thing, obviously, but I thought this way you can still figuratively have a little piece of the sun if,” Cutting yourself off, you glance away for a moment, “Well, if things don’t go the way we hope.”

He stares at you for a long moment, entirely unsure of what to say. He doesn’t think there’s anything he could say to convey just how much the gesture means to him.

Setting the necklace on his pillow, he draws you into his arms and weaves them tight around your waist. He pulls you to him so suddenly that your knees bump his shins, but you don’t seem to mind as you hook your arms around the back of his neck. His eyes burn as he murmurs against the side of your neck, “I love you.”

You card your fingers through his hair and he shudders, leaning further into you as you dot a few sweet kisses along the length of his shoulder.

“I love you too.” Your words are muddled as they’re mumbled into his skin, “More than you know.”

Maybe he didn’t before, but he thinks he has an idea now. You love him enough that you gave him his own little chunk of the sun. Even if things don’t pan out they way he hopes they will, he doesn’t think he’ll need the necklace – however pretty it may be.

He’s already got his bit of the sun wrapped up tight in his arms.

[gladiatorcunt]

Can you do a dom Tashi fic with a female reader? Need her! Lol

cw: went kind of wild with this, blindfolds, orgasm delay/denial, puppy play, mommy kink, slight bdsm, implied masochistic reader, stoplight system, shirt used as bondage, mentions of ropes/gags/fucking machines, infidelity, pain play, you can decide if the bonus implied poly part is canon to the story, feminization (one good girl bc i couldn’t hold it back), patrick catching strays 💀, canon typical mind games, extreme spanking mention, tashi being a good dom (+ off screen aftercare, trust), mention of cleaning her strap with your tongue, slight degradation, unedited, afab reader

“Mmfh- Tashi, slow down…” You whine, pausing your makeout session to her immediate disapproval. “I don’t think we should be doing this anymore.”

She rolls her eyes but she humors you and pulls back to sit on her heels. Tashi wonders what’s got you so worked up this time, but she knows she can take care of it and you’ll be back on her strap where you belong. Regardless of any “boyfriend.”

“What are you talking about?” She coos, rubbing your cheekbones with the sides of her thumbs and admiring how your eyes clearly want to flutter shut. “You’re not doing anything wrong, don’t worry about it.”

You bite your lip, stuffing your hands in between your thighs so you won’t want to chew on your nails, “But what about Patrick? Isn’t this cheating? I thought you guys were together.”

She doesn’t immediately say that you had your tongue all up in her pussy even when you apparently had that idea in your head. You’ve been fucking for months, so it’s kind of silly to be getting your panties in a twist over morals this late in the game. But you just don’t get it yet, that’s all. You don’t have the mindset for these kinds of things, not like Tashi does.

“How can we be together if he’s not here? What we had is as limp as his dick. Not like us, you’re so much better than him, babe.” She whispers, sliding her hands down to massage your shoulders “If he hasn’t gotten the hint by now, then that’s his own fuckin’ fault, you got that?”

The venom in her little speech by the end wasn’t directed at you, it could never be, but you’re taken aback by it all the same. You’re not the kind of person who’d take pleasure from knowingly helping someone cheat, but Tashi Duncan doesn’t need help to do anything. And at least you’re worth something to her, unlike Patrick who at least deserves a lazyily written instagram dm.

You decide to chalk it all up to whatever the fuck seems to be in the college air, “Yeah, Tash’ , I got it.”

Tashi bucks her hips and rubs the tip of her strap against the sheets, pulling you into her lap to straddle it. She captures your lips in a second, sloppier, kiss and smooths her palms over your ass. You keen at the sharp smacks she gives you as you grind on the fake cock, sucking on her tongue and clutching onto the back of her neck.

It’s Tashi who interrupts the kiss this time, to grab the nearby silk blindfold and slip it around your eyes. After a reassurance from you that you can’t see anything at all, she tugs your button up shirt down to tie your wrists behind your back. Not anything too tight, but the fancy ropes, toys, and gags are back at her place.

You give her the okay to keep going after wiggling around to test your restraints, rolling your eyes behind your blindfold when you rattle off the stoplight system like she asks you to. You’re grateful that she can’t see it, you would be bent over her lap and your ass would be black and blue if she did. Sometimes you ask for that type of play outside of you being a brat.

Tashi tells you that you did a good job and your pussy jumps at the praise. She laughs meanly at the sight and digs her nails into your ass cheeks, moving your hips into a slow grind.

She pats you on the ass, “Up, puppy. Time for your treat.”

You obediently lift your hips, hearing her move around so she can position the head of her cock at your entrance. Despite how much you want to just absoutely slam your hips down on her length and feel your ass jiggle around it, you know she wants you to go slow even though she prepped you with her fingers earlier. Your pussy’s genuinely so tight and has trouble with penetration, you need to take your time for Tashi’s peace of mind at least. Especially since your cock slut hole likes the more monster looking dildos.

“You’ve got this puppy, just relax for me. That’s it.-” Tashi says, keeping a firm grip on your hips and eyeing the inches of her strap being slowly devoured by your greedy cunt.

Not being able to see your surroundings hightens the feeling of Tashi’s cock spreading you open. You whine when you’ve finally taken all of her, thanks to your determination and her fingers playing with your nipples. You accept the quick kiss she lays on you and start bouncing without her go ahead, earning you a slap across your heaving tits that gets you wetter than when she had you go on a fucking machine.

You enjoy being able to moan freely, shrieking like a porn star as Tashi alternates between playing with your tits and your ass. She doesn’t even have to move, you need her so bad that your pure instinct is driving you to cream on the thick cock inside you. You’re slicking it up already, so when Tashi rubs furious circles into your clit and she knows you’re clenching, she harshly grabs your face.

“No cumming until I say so, you remember the last time you were a bad puppy don’t you?”

You do, she made you orgasm so much that by the time it was over, gun to your head you would’ve sworn that your clit fell off.

“I-i’ll be good, fuck! I can hold it, mommy, promise!” You babble, feeling tired already but keeping up your unsustainable jackhammer pace.

Tashi leans back on her hands and enjoys the show. Your eyes covered and your arms held behind your back, basically being unable to do anything but fuck yourself on her huge fake cock. She reverntly rubs your thighs up and down, hitting you when you need it and soothing the sting afterward. She keeps you dangling over the edge for what feels like hours to you before you’re tempted to embrace whatever punishment she’ll dish out after you cum.

Just when you think that you’re to fall apart beyond repair and all recognition, Tashi squeezes each of your tits and takes them into her mouth. She brings her fingers back to your clit and you could cry in relief because she only pulls out all the stops when she wants you to give her a nice long orgasm.

“Good puppy, you can do it, cum for me. Gush all over mommy’s cock, make her proud- just like that… oh, good girl, that’s it, let it all out. I want you to make a big mess for me, I know how much you like to clean mommy’s strap.” She coos, talking you through it while you meet God.

You fall asleep giving Tashi’s cock a tongue bath.

Bonus:

The latest texts between Tashi and Patrick are pages and pages of entire essays about what you look and sound like when you cum. They’d knew you’d feel too guilty about coming in between them to go after you together, so they’re working on a sort of trial run. But what Patrick doesn’t know is that Tashi could care less if you warm up to him like you have to her, she ‘saw you across the room and loved your vibe’ first. She’d still have you if you succumbed to Patrick’s eventual “I can’t believe she dumped me” sobbed story anyway.

She does love you, you’re her baby. Patrick’s a fun experiment in how desperate a man can get.

[kjupchurch-xx]

You're Mine (request on Tumblr for a jealousy filled fic featuring Tom Hiddleston)

WARNING: For those that do not like SMUT, I'm sorry, you can skip this one. This is a request I got on Tumblr and I do honor all requests... within reason, LOL. 

Today was Hugh and I's third anniversary. The last three years have been amazing to say the least. We met five years ago when I'd stumbled into his coffee shop, Laughing Man Cafe, a coffee and tea shop he owned, located in New York. Hugh had stopped in to sign autographs and meet a few fans, I'd stopped in for a coffee, not realizing Hugh Jackman owned it. 

We began dating shortly after, getting married two years later. I'd always been extras in films, but he'd help me kick start my career as being a lead in some smaller films. I was always apprehensive about doing bigger films, so I strayed away from them. Hugh would spend hours going over lines with me to prepare me for various roles over the last few years. I checked my email noticing a script my manager sent over to me. It was a bigger film, of course and I had managed to get the part after a stressful audition. I didn't bother reading the script before auditioning, but I knew it was a rom-com with Tom Hiddleston, who was well known for playing Loki. 

"Holy shit." I mumbled, reading over the script. Hugh looked over at me from the opposite end of the couch, wearing his glasses, "What? Did you get dropped?" He asked concerned. 

I rolled my eyes, "Why do you automatically assume I was dropped from a film?" 

He chuckled, "What's with the 'holy shit' reaction?" He sat his laptop down, scooting beside me to see my phone. 

I took a deep breath, "Uh, well... There's a sex scene with Tom and I." 

He shrugged, "It's just acting, babe. You'll do fine. Sex scenes are fun to film."

I cocked my brow looking at him, "Really?" I asked sarcastically. 

He laughed, shaking his head, "I don't mean it like that. They're awkward. You're wearing these little bags and cover-ups, stimulating sex for hours. It's weird, but the key is to make each other laugh." 

He would know. He's the man that's always down for a good sex scene. 

I continued skimming the email, "Holy fuck! We're filming it at 5." I said mentally face palming as I jumped up to grab normal clothes, rather than the sweats and over sized t-shirt I was wearing. 

Hugh looked at his watch, "Oh fuck, it's 3:45 now. Let's get ready and I'll take you. Tom's a nice dude, you'll be fine, baby." He said as he jumped up to change out of his comfy clothes. 

As we got ready and jetted out of the door of our home in NYC, we flew through traffic and made it to the set with 10 minutes to spare. When we arrived on set, I was greeted by my manager, Tom's manager, Tom and a few of the film crew. 

"Ooooh, she brought Wolverine with her, Tom. You better be careful." one of the cameramen teased. 

Tom chuckled, "I'm always careful." as he made his way to Hugh smiling, "Nice to see you again, Hugh." 

Hugh smiled, "Hey Mate, nice to see you."

The director walked over to us, "Okay Jackman, as much as I love your beautiful ass, you're not in my movie. Get off the set." She teased. 

Hugh laughed, throwing his hands up, walking towards the side of the set, "You knew it would cost too much to book me." he said jokingly. 

Tom and I sat in the middle of the set with the director as she explained the script and how she wanted the intimate scene to take place. "So, we're going to get you two ready for the shot, you'll both be wearing cover-ups, so you won't actually be naked, but you'll appear naked to the audience and to the cameras." We nodded in agreement. "Whenever she comes in, I want you to pin her to the door in a full on make out with second base type thing, but you'll both still be clothed for that scene." 

We nodded, "Alright." we said in unison while going our separate ways to get into our character outfits. After about 30 minutes of changing and fixing our hair, we met back on set. A door separating us. This was my first time doing an intimate scene in a movie. I'd had brief kissing scenes over the years, but nothing to this level. I could feel my anxiety building as I took a deep breath, staring towards the door. 

"And, action!" The director yelled, slamming a marker. 

I grabbed the door, pushing it open to be met with Tom, grabbing me and intensely shoving me against it, pushing his lips onto mine. The kiss was deep, it was messy, there were shots where you see his tongue forcing its way into my mouth. Tom wasn't a bad kisser by any means, I will say that. The director decided the scene wasn't her favorite and wanted to re-do it two more times afterwards, wanting Tom to be more aggressive each time we'd kissed. 

I glanced over to Hugh, who was on the sidelines, playing on his phone. I could tell he was getting annoyed, but being the professional he is, not wanting to show it. Tom shook me from my thoughts, "You know, kissing you is pretty fun." He said, winking at me. I chuckled, not wanting to cause issues, but also shaking off the uncomfortable feeling his flirting was giving me. Hugh is typically not a jealous man, but I knew if he overheard the flirting, he'd knock this dude's teeth out and make sure he never did another Marvel movie again. 

On the third shot of the kissing scene, I felt Tom's hand brush slightly across my breast. Not enough for me to really react, but enough for me to know he did it. Not knowing if this was truly a coincidence, I shrugged it off as we went to get ready for the sex scene. I was completely naked, besides a small skin colored cover-up that literally only covered my vagina. Tom was wearing a skin colored bag that hid his dick. 

We wrapped ourselves in robes while we weren't filming to meet the director as she explained how she wanted the sex scene to go and what her expectations were. This was my first big film, and I knew if I wanted to score a good career, I had to sell it regardless of how I was feeling. As we made our way to the bed and stripped our robes, we both laid on the bed, under the comforter. The director wanted Tom on top of me, so he climbed on top of me and looked me dead in the eyes. I couldn't force myself to look over at Hugh, so I blocked him completely out of my brain and continued looking at the guy that was on top of me. 

"And, action!" The director yells, slamming her marker. 

Tom looked down at me, "Is this what you want?" He asks seductively, moving his hips in a motion as if he were positioning himself to enter me, throwing the comforter off of us, revealing our naked bodies. 

I moaned, biting my lip, "I want you." 

Tom stimulated his hips as if he'd slammed into me while I stimulated the scene to make it look as if I were matching his thrusts as both of us moaned. He took one of my nipples in his mouth and began sucking on it while still pretending to thrust into me while I drug my fingernails down his back and cried out his character's name. 

The scene in the movie only showed the sex for about two minutes, before cutting to a scene of both of us cuddled in bed talking about how we couldn't let our spouses find out about what we'd done. 

Tom giggled, "We can't let them know. This needs to be our dirty little secret." 

I smirked, "I know, I know... But you fuck so much better than anyone I've ever been with. He'll be out of town working all week anyways." 

Tom leaned down, kissing my head, holding me, "Do you know how long I've waited to do that? How hard it is being around you two and having to hide how hard my dick gets when you're around me... We're horrible people." He chuckled. 

I rolled my eyes, "What they don't know won't hurt them." I said as I playfully trailed my fingers down his stomach, "I want more..." I said seductively. 

"Cut! That was perfect, guys!" The director exclaimed, running towards us with our robes. 

Filming for the day had ended and I hadn't looked at Hugh in hours. I was too afraid to. I know this is what actors do and he knows good and well how acting in films can be, but something in me felt like this was going to be a disaster. As I put my normal clothes back on and told everyone bye, I noticed Hugh was outside on his phone. He looked pissed.

I walked up behind him, wrapped my arms around him, "I'm finished, baby. Do you want to get dinner?" I asked sweetly. 

He glanced at me, ending the phone and walking to get in the car, "Not hungry." He grunted. 

I opened the door of the car, awkwardly getting in, "We're going home." He said coldly. 

"Are you okay?" I asked, reaching for his arm, only to have him pull away. 

He kept his eyes focused on the road, "What's wrong, love? You won't even look at me." I said, starting to tear up. 

He scoffed, "What's wrong? You enjoyed that! You were really getting into that wannabe Wolverine motherfucker all over you!" He spat. 

My jaw dropped, "Excuse me? What are you talking about? I was doing my job, Hugh!" 

He laughed annoyingly, "Really? Your job wasn't to look like you were shooting a motherfucking pornography movie. It was to do a two minute sex scene and you took it too fucking far with him. Do you want to fuck him that bad?" 

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Was he really that jealous by me doing a sex scene in a movie he told me to audition for? 

I shook my head, "What are you talking about right now? I did exactly what the director asked me to do." I said in defense. 

He looked at me, "Really? Do you realize how fucking heartbreaking it is to watch a younger man, closer to your age all over you, sucking on your tits? Then you're both talking about good thing our spouses don't know. You know you were turned on by it. I know you."

I rolled my eyes, "Whatever, Hugh. Just get me home before I start walking. I'm seriously about to get out of this car." 

He scoffed again, "Yeah? Go ring Tom, I'm sure he'll pick you up." 

As we got home, he hopped out of the car, making sure he slammed the door and every door inside the house. He was being dramatic. Does seeing me stimulating a fake sex scene with an attractive actor that's younger than him bother him that badly? I'm literally doing what he does with other women, well maybe not that extreme, but does he forget that I have to see him kissing or flirting with other women onscreen in almost every movie or interview he does? I mean shit...Excuse me for just furthering my career. 

As the night went on, he seemed to calm down. I found him playing his piano, looking lost in his own thoughts. I walked towards him, "Are you finally calm?" I asked bluntly, bracing myself for the reaction. 

He shook his head cheekily, "I'm fine. Do you want to have a cuddle in bed?" He asked, smiling at me.  

I nodded, "Of course, love." I said, while grabbing his hand, leading him to our bedroom. 

As we approached the bed, he pushed me down, kissing me aggressively, biting and sucking on my bottom lip as if he were going to literally gnaw it off. "You really think he's better than me, huh?" He mumbled against my lips, causing me to roll my eyes. 

I brushed the comment off and continued the kiss, "Answer me." He growled while pushing his boner into my hips. "No..." I said lowly. "No, what?" He spat back, pushing himself further into my hips. "No baby, I don't." I said, looking up at him. 

"I sat on the side and watched him practically fuck you and touch you for hours. Do you know how fucking bad I wanted to rip his face off for touching my wife?" He asked as yanked my shirt off. "Watching him suck on your perfect tits... You're mine, do you understand that?" He said while pulling my pants off, leaving me in my bra and underwear. 

I nodded, "Yours..." He sat back up pulling his own clothes off as he climbed back on top of me, pulling my panties to the side, shoving his fingers inside me, while sucking on my neck. "This is my pussy." He whispered into my ear as his fingers danced inside me. 

I couldn't help the moan that escaped from my lips, "Oh fuck... Baby, don't stop." I moaned, while reaching for his boxers. "I want you." 

He pulled them down, revealing his hard cock, "You want me? Are you sure you don't want Tom?" He asked, cocking his brow at me as he rubbed my clit. 

I nodded, biting my lip so hard I could taste blood, "You're the only one I want..." I said as I reached for his cock, wrapping my hand around the length. 

"Show me." He said, pulling me on top of him. I slid down his frame, kissing every inch of his torso as I made my way down to his manhood. I felt him place his hand on the back of my head as I took him into my mouth. I sucked hard on the tip while letting my hand work the base as I felt him start roughly thrusting into my mouth as he threw his head back, his moans filling the air. 

"That's a good girl. Show me how much you want my dick." He moaned, as I began bobbing my head quicker taking his rough thrusts deep into the back of my throat. 

This was not like Hugh, but I was loving every minute of it. It almost makes me wish I'd taken more opportunities to push his buttons. I could feel him throbbing in my mouth as he pulled out not wanting to cum just yet. He glanced down at me, motioning for me to get on my knees. 

I did as I was told as I felt him push my panties to the side, entering me. His thrusts were fast and rough, not the sweet, romantic I was used to getting. He slapped my ass hard, "Is this what you wanted?" He grunted, "You wanted this cock, you don't want anyone else's cock, do you?" He gave a deeper thrust, "Answer me or I'll stop and you can go ring Tom instead." He yelled. 

I threw my head back, trying to form words as the feeling of euphoria overtook my body. "Fuck! Don't stop!" I managed to scream between moans, "I only want you." I said, trying to not let myself go this soon. 

He grabbed a handful of my hair, turning my face to look at him, "This is mine. All mine." He moaned. I could tell he was getting close, I could feel him throbbing inside me. "Cum for me, baby. Let me see how good I make you feel." He said while tugging on my hair. 

I let go and exploded on him, literally falling down to the bed as I felt him cum deep inside me. He collapsed beside me, breathless. "Do you feel better now?" I asked him chuckling, sounding a bit amused while trying to catch my breath. 

He chuckled, "I do. Are you okay? I didn't hurt you, did I?" He asked sweetly. 

There he was... There was my sweet baby. I smiled, "You didn't hurt me in a bad way, if that's what you're asking. Maybe I should make you jealous more often." I joked.

He laughed, pulling me closer to him, "Maybe so, love."  

[thehusbandoden]

You Flinch During an Argument -Bakugo Katsuki

I finished this yesterday but forced myself to wait to post it due to my one part a day pattern I've had going on.

Anyways~ as I said in Shoto's part, I did make this one a bit angstier, but I hope I didn't stray too far away from the original prompt :'). It's kinda bittersweet lol but I kinda like it.

Angst to fluff/Comfort | Kinda bittersweet~ | 993 words | female reader

Warnings!: arguing, yelling, being scared of your partner, parents arguing (the kids were not present), kids being left at school (not for very long), caps, excuses, self hatred, and insulting themselves (Bakugo). Please let me know if I miss any <33

Dabi | Hawks | Todoroki Shoto | Bakugo Katsuki | Midoriya Izuku | Shigaraki Tomura | Aizawa Shota | Amajiki Tamaki | Kirishima Eijiro | Shinso Hitoshi

You both had been fighting for at least half an hour, screaming at one another for this and that. It started with Bakugo 'forgetting' to pick up your sons from school, and has now escalated into you screaming at him for not 'caring about this family' and his yelling about how hard he works for your family.

No one was totally to blame, both parties had some points that were right, and some that were wrong. But it should have never reached that point.

~~~

"DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW HARD I WORK TO PROVIDE FOR THIS FAMILY! I TOLD YOU WHEN YOU BEGGED FOR KIDS THAT I WOULDN'T BE ABLE TO HELP OUT MUCH! WHAT ELSE DO YOU EXPECT FROM ME!"

"I UNDERSTAND THAT- BUT YOU'VE HAD THREE DAYS OFF! YOU'RE FULLY RESTED- AND SHOULD'VE PICKED UP THE KIDS NO PROBLEM WHILE I WAS HELPING OUT YOUR MOM!"

"WELL WHAT DO YOU EXPECT ME TO DO! I FORGOT ABOUT IT, OKAY! AND YOU DIDN'T CALL TO REMIND ME EITHER!"

"I EXPECTED YOU TO HAVE ENOUGH BRAINS TO REMEMBER, BUT I GUESS THAT WAS IDIOTIC OF ME!"

"I HAVE SO MUCH TO DEAL WITH BESIDES THIS BULL CRAP THAT'S YOUR RESPONSIBILITY! I WORK, YOU TAKE CARE OF THE KIDS!"

"KATSUKI I CANNOT WATCH THE KIDS 24-7 WITHOUT YOUR HELP! I NEED BREAKS TOO! YOU HAVE TWO DAYS OFF A WEEK TO RELAX, AND CATCH UP ON SLEEP! WHILE I HAVE NIGHT TIME, BATHROOM BREAKS, RUNNING ERANDS, AND NAP TIMES TO CATCH A BREAK! I SHOULD BE ABLE TO RELY ON MY HUSBAND TO HELP OUT WHEN HE HAS TIME OFF!"

"YOU'RE THE ONE WHO WANTED THE KIDS IN THE FIRST PLACE- WHY ARE YOU WHINING TO ME ABOUT HAVING TO TAKE CARE OF 'EM!"

"WHY ARE YOU ACTING LIKE THEY AREN'T YOURS!? WE BOTH AGREED ON DOING THE BEST WE COULD FOR OUR KIDS, AND YOU SAID THAT YOU'D HELP OUT WHENEVER YOU COULD!"

"Y/N IT WAS THIS ONE TIME- I WAS BUSY, I FORGOT!"

"YOU WERE PLAYING GAMES ALL DAY WITH YOUR FRIENDS! THAT IS NOT BUSY!"

Blazing anger filled Bakugo as he stepped towards you, planning on simply getting closer to you to somehow try and make you see his side of things. He didn't mean to forget about picking up his kids, he loves his kids, he was simply engrossed in talking about them to his friends as he gamed, totally forgetting about the time and the fact that they were at school, waiting for someone to pick them up.

In truth, Bakugo felt bad. Really bad. But you wouldn't stop, so he continued, his unwavering pride making it near impossible to simply apologize and leave the argument behind.

Storming towards you, Bakugo stopped dead in his tracks as you flinched from him, eyes holding a certain terror. Wait- did you- did you think he was going to hurt you?!

Apologies and 'are you okay's were caught in Bakugo's throat as he opened his mouth, too terrified to speak.

Y/n.. his y/n was scared..of him. HIs y/n- the person that tore him out of his 'I don't care about anything or anyone' stage. She brought him out of his dark pit of self loathing, hating himself for how weak he was, how he couldn't do anything compared to that idiot Deku. She brought light into his world, she is his light. His first and last love, his wife, his center, his other half, his partner, his reason for life, the mother of his children, his one and only lover, his queen, his everything.

And he scared her.

Screamed at her for something that was his fault.

Treated her so badly that she flinched away from him- terror filling her eyes.

Her gorgeous e/c eyes. The same eyes that his sons had inherited. Now he's brought tears to three sets of those goregous eyes. What a scum bag.

Pain seared through Bakguo as he embraced his y/n, knowing if he left now she would entirely break, thinking that he was giving up on her. On their love. When in reality, he would't be. He would never dream of leaving her, or their beautiful children.

Because no matter how much of an a-hole Bakugo may be, he would never stoop that low. Never. And so he held her, and continued to hold her as she tearfully cussed him out, telling him how much she loved him and how much of an a-hole he was for treating her like that, their kids like that.

He just held her, telling her that he was sorry, that he knew, that he would make it up to her -and their seven year old twins- somehow.

And for now, that was enough. His love, and comfort was enough as you clung to him, insulting him while telling him that you loved his idiotic self in the same sentence, telling him that you loved him too much to not be able to forgive him.

And that if he was serious about making things right, that you would help him.

Because you were Bakugo y/n*. You chose to take his name and become his wife. Bakugo has helped you through so many up and downs, so you would do the same for him. Because he truly loved you, and you truly loved him.

*Japanese last names go in front of the first name to pay respect to the family name, and that's why Kirishima and Bakugo's other classmates call him Bakugo instead of Katsuki -to pay respect to his family name-. So you would be (in Japan anyway) Bakugo y/n (if you choose to take his last name) and strangers/aquaintnesses/not so close friends and co-workers would call you Bakugo instead of y/n. Annd due to me not liking Bakugo a whole lot I call him Bakugo or Baka/Bakuhoe instead of Katuski and call Todoroki and Midoriya, Shoto and Izuku- do you get what I'm saying?? I hope you do <33

Series' masterlist | Bakahoe's Bakugou's masterlist | Main masterlist | Navigation

Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated<33

Do not copy, repost, nor plagiarize my work. Ask before you translate or use my work in any way, minus reblogging.

[moralesluvr]

Helloo✋🏾 I know it’s late af but I just wanted to get this request off my chest lol. May I request a hobie brown x reader where the reader is doing a “don’t kiss me” prank on him? Just a funny thought

'don't kiss me!' prank ft. hobie brown

♡ pairings & aus: hobie brown x fem!black!reader ♡ summary: you see a prank that a girl pulled on her boyfriend from tiktok, so you decide to try it on hobie ♡ warnings: very sad pouty hobie, reader being a bit of a meanie ♡ a/n: i loved writing this! thank you for your request! ♡ got a request? | masterlist ♡

YOU KNEW IT WAS WRONG.

Okay, maybe not exactly wrong, but it was definitely morally cruel.

You had saw the TikTok while you were sitting on the toilet in Hobie's bathroom, chatting with him about any and everything while he showered. You decided to stay at his place because it was late and you had missed him, so you figured you'd just steal some of his clothes and sleepover for a night or two.

When the idea came into your head, you slumped back onto the toilet seat and pretended you were just watching videos about makeup so that Hobie wouldn't be suspicious.

"Can you hand me my flannel, lovie?" He requested, and you sighed at the use of his slang that you've had to pick up over the last six months. You grab his towel and throw it over the curtain rod. You hear him suck his teeth, "Why do you have to be so annoying, eh?"

You hum with a grin, "Dunno. At least I'm not boring."

Hobie pulls the shower curtain back, and you nearly bite your lip.

This challenge was going to be hard.

The towel that you handed him was wrapped firmly around his waist, his chest glistening to the water droplets that reflecting from the bathroom's cheap lighting. He walks over to you, ready to kiss you, but you stand up and cough. "Um...I'm..hungry. Yeah, I needa' snack."

"Did you not just see what I was tryna do?" He almost pouts, following you into the kitchen, "I wanted to kiss 'ya, then you left."

You grab a bag of chips from his pantry, sitting down at one of his island stools, "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't notice."

Hobie hums at you, walking back to his room, "Whatever."

You were sure that you had already made him upset. He wasn't always in a clingy mood- actually, mostly rarely- but when he was, he was upset if he didn't get what he wanted.

And although you did feel like you were being mean, you needed to get the prank on video to show him, and to laugh at later. So you rose from your chair and ran after him into the bedroom. He had on simple black pajama pants and no top, his hair pulled up in a bun. He was fiddling around with his guitar while sitting on his bed, so he didn't even notice when you propped up your phone and pressed record on your video app.

You winked at the camera when you did it, sliding onto the bed with him. He stopped playing.

"So why can't I kiss you?" Hobie asked, "Does my breath smell bad? Swear I just brushed 'em, love, so I know that isn't it."

"It's none of those things," you assure him, tapping your nails on the outskirts of his guitar. Usually he would flip if someone did that, but with you, he didn't really mind.

You saw him lean closer to you, and then his eyes start to close, and you rested your palm on his chest as you pushed him away. He gives you a watery-eyed look, "Okay, Y/N. D-Did I do somethin'? Because you're not wantin' to kiss me at all. Talk to me, yeah? Please?"

His big hands are cupping either of your cheeks as he looks at you intensively, and you can't help but break. You lean in, your lips connecting with his. You expect the kiss to be warm and light, but Hobie had a different motive. His right hand left your cheek as he snaked his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to deepen it. A satisfied sigh leaves you as that same hand finds one of your braids. He twirls it in his fingers, pulling away from you, "So now you want to smooch me, hm? What's the matta'?"

You laugh, your head being thrown back at how humorous the situation was to you. Hobie's straightfaced, though, and he's not laughing when you look up again. You cup his cheek, your other hand pointing to your propped up phone, "Look, baby, it was a prank!"

Hobie gives you a playful slap to the shoulder, "Don't do that again, love, yeah? Was bloody painful."

You laugh, leaning in as you kissed your boyfriend.

"Don't worry, I won't." You smiled.

And maybe you wouldn't deprive him of kisses again, but when the time came, you'd definitely be playing more pranks on him sooner rather than later.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 ☻ thank you for reading!

𝐒��𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑-𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓🕷️: @queenesther996

[archonsbane]

AND I TRY TO TALK REFINED

The one time Il Dottore speaks to you in another language, the one time he speaks to someone else in another language, and the one time you give him a taste of his own medicine.

pairing. dottore x reader

tags & content warnings. gn!reader. reader is the tsaritsa's child. reader is referred to by they/them. there's one (1) mildly suggestive sentence (and it's in a different language lol).

word count. 2.9k

author's note. so. i'm back from the dead. i have two fics for pantalone and one for diluc, around 8k+ words. (none of them are finished LMFAO) but of course i drop everything for this stupid ass man. the reader here is my tsaritsa’schild!reader, though this takes place before beauty is terror. this is set in the early days of their relationship and the start of dottore’s involvement in the fatui. reader's backstory is also implied here, but not outright stated. also i got inspiration from @fatuismooches lovely headcanons, though i strayed a bit far HAHA. thank you for letting me write this! and thank you to my two lovely delulu friends (you know who you are) bc i suddenly got into the mood to write because of them.  also, what is heavily implied to be the script of khaenri'ah in-game is based on latin, so i headcanon that latin is the language of khaenri'ah. also i had to sneak in a tsh reference lmfao it was too perfect not to. i promise i don't include it in all my fics it just so happens to be perfect for certain situations huhu. also i hope you guys catch all the little details i put in! reader and dottore have always been like this lol the title is from 'talk' by hozier.

You are undoubtedly the worst teacher Dottore has ever had, bar none. 

Flighty, distracted, and prone to seamlessly maneuvering to an entirely different topic without blinking an eye, leaving him dumbfounded. Your teaching sessions, if they could be called that, are filled with constant interrogations of his life and large infusions of food. Half the time you aren’t even teaching him, you’re simply rambling about whatever it is you ramble about (he’s learned to tune you out, partly because he doesn’t care and partly because he can’t understand what you’re saying). He is truly reconsidering forgoing learning Snezhnayan — at the pace you're going, he might as well take his chances and learn by himself.  

“But Mother said,” you remind him, petulantly, like a small child. Yes, the Tsaritsa commanded him to learn Snezhnayan, and commanded you to teach him, but he is greatly tempted to ask her to send another teacher. It has only been two weeks since your lessons begun and he might truly go mad. Sometimes he thinks this might be the worst thing a divine being has ever inflicted on him.

In truth, he already knows Snezhnayan, but only enough to hold a polite conversation. It is his least favorite of the languages he learned from his teachers in the Akademiya, and anyway, he never quite had a deftness for tongues. He is always most at home working with his hands, destroying and creating physical matter, covered in dust and soot, cracking open the world’s secrets like an egg. But the Tsartisa willed him to learn, and he is nothing if not a scholar. 

“But Mother said,” he mocks, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. He’s learned that you have no convictions about his personality. If anything, you seemed to embrace it. Whereas he dons a respectful — as respectful as he can conjure, anyways — mask with the Jester and the Tsaritsa, it’s… looser, with you. Still, he is careful not to cross the line. He is only allowed this because he amuses you. You've been treating him like some sort of pet to be played with whenever you desire since his coming here. “Your mother also said to teach me how to speak Snezhnayan, but this is the third time you’ve called for snacks in three hours.” 

You flash a lazy glare at him and go back to eating your beloved pastilas. “You require a tremendous amount of effort to teach.” You’ve switched back to speaking the common tongue, obviously for his sake. “You’re a horrible student.” 

“You’re a horrible teacher!” 

You sniff and take another bite of your pastry. “You’re just really bad at learning.” 

For that, you get a glance heavenward. He is tempted to simply throttle you and be done with it. Treason seems like a fair price to pay for shutting you up. But he considers his options and decides that he would rather not be on the receiving end of your mother’s wrath — it’s too fucking cold here already. Still, greatly offended by this statement, he vents out his anger by cursing at you.

In the language of Sumeru. 

He does not really think of it; his use of his mother tongue has greatly decreased since coming here, but even then, it simply rolls off his tongue as naturally as water flows from a river's mouth.

Your brows shoot up. You open your mouth, pause, and for a moment he fears he is in danger of being exiled or thrown in the dungeon. But then you cock your head to the side. “What does that mean?” You ask. 

An idea unravels in his mind, sparkling with mischief. “It means you’re bad at teaching.” 

You frown. “For some reason, I feel like you’re lying.” 

He curses at you again. Your frown deepens. There is something so satisfying about the way those frustrated lines burrow into your face. When he does it a third time, you actually put down the pastila. 

“What does it mean?” You demand. “You aren’t saying anything bad, are you?” 

It means you’re an insufferable little bastard of mean intelligence and he hopes you fall into a ditch, so yes, he definitely is saying something bad. “It means you’re the most gorgeous, most wonderful person in the world,” he says, sarcasm dripping from the syllables. When you look genuinely taken aback, he lets out a cruel, derisive scoff. “It means you should trust me more.” 

“That seems like a horrible idea.” 

He shrugs and reaches over to take one of the pastilas, light pink with a white, foamy top, vaguely aware that another one of your language lessons has gone considerably off course. Perhaps that was too light a description. It shot in one direction and came speeding back the other way. “Suit yourself, Your Imperial Highness.” 

You smack his hand away, gently. Almost too gently. “Those are mine.” 

He eats it, anyway, and learns many new colorful Snezhnayan curses for it, though he detects no real annoyance in your voice. You ring for another batch of desserts. He counts it as a successful lesson. 

He continues speaking in Sumerian when you're near. It’s the greatest of treasures, seeing you frown and demand to know what he had just uttered in your presence. Sometimes he just says the first phrase that enters his head, most times he insults you and relishes in your clueless blinking. You can't do the same to him — he's been picking up on Snezhnayan at an exponential pace, and he's made sure to memorize all of the insults and swears first. Obviously. It’s his talent for machinations that he prides himself on, but lately, he’s been deriving vicious pleasure from the fact he can speak twenty languages, though it never mattered much to him before. It’s a good, safe outlet for his annoyance whenever you’re near, which you seem to always be, nowadays. 

Even outside the language ‘lessons’ (the word lessons being used extremely lightly) you seem to trail him wherever he goes. Ambushing him in the halls, materializing in the laboratory, and in general trailing him like some attention-starved puppy. He resents it, resents the stars that float through your eyes whenever he enters your view, resents the way you immediately disengage from whatever it was that you were doing to attach yourself to him, all smiles. 

He actively avoids you, but somehow you keep running into him. On purpose or accidentally, he has no idea. He suspects it is the former.

Today is one of those days. You’re by his side, again, chatting happily about… something. He’s trying to tune you out, focusing on the long walk back to his laboratories after a meeting with the Tsaritsa. He needs to do something about that, it’s woefully inconvenient to have to walk a mile every time she calls on him. Some sort of contraption that could go up and down easily would be of great use, and he wouldn’t have to climb so many fucking stairs.

Then — it happens. In your excitement, you bump into some government official accompanied by another, what his role is Dottore does not know and does not care to, but he must be quite high up if he allows himself to glare at you for an instant before it disappears into a cool stare. Or maybe he just has a lot of gall.

"Oh, my apologies sir," you murmur, ducking your head. 

"Quite alright, Your Highness," he says smoothly, "have a good day." He turns his back and starts to mutter to his companion, their heads bent together, completely unaware that with your godly senses and his recent enhancements to his body, you both can hear every word.

"How clumsy," the first man tuts, "what does their mother teach them? She's been too soft on them."

"She lets them run amok doing whatever they please. The other day, they—"

"—yes, I heard. Look at those clothes, aren't they too plain for the heir?"

His companion makes an agreeing noise. "And the company they keep… " 

Dottore doesn't particularly care about what other people think of him, and perhaps if it was only the last sentence that had been uttered he wouldn't have said a word, but the tirade of their complaints makes irritation, absurdly, flare inside him. He whips his head back to their retreating figures, and you throw him a glaring warning, so he clenches his jaw and stays where he is. He isn't one to do nothing, however. 

“Kol khara,” he says to them, viciously. Eat shit. He hears you stifle a sound that might be a laugh and briefly wonders why exactly you would laugh. 

The men turn back around. “Excuse me?” The first one says. 

“Nothing,” he says, curtly, his eyes like sharp daggers, “go on." They throw each other confused glances but say nothing further, going further down the hall until he can no longer see their backs. You both stay in the middle of the now-empty hallway, staring silently off into the distance.

You’ve never been able to contain your curiosity for long. After a good minute of silence, you turn inquisitive eyes on him. He’s been expecting your question.

"What did you say?" You ask.

He shrugs; makes a dismissive gesture with his hand. "Nothing."

You narrow your eyes. "I know it isn't nothing. It was something bad, right? You've said it to me before.” Clever you, he thinks briefly. Nothing gets past you. When he stays enclosed in icy silence, you press on further, “I won’t be mad. It doesn’t bother me — I think it’s funny. Just tell me.” He has no idea why you would ever think it’s funny. Nonetheless, he stays silent. 

You try again. “Tell me.” 

“No.” 

“Please?” 

“No.” 

“Tell me,” you say again, but this time you slip into the voice of the noble, unshakeable heir to Winter. The two words are a command, and they leave no room for argument. He must follow. 

He sighs and runs a hand down his face. “It means I want them to eat shit.” 

A moment of silence passes and Dottore wonders if he should start running. Then, you start to laugh. A small laugh, so small he almost thinks he could cup it in his hands and never let it go. But he recognizes it as different from the laughs you’ve given him before. This one is warm and sweet, conjured from the belly upwards. Summer in a sound. 

He tries very hard not to smile when he says, “you aren’t mad?” 

“No,” you say, still laughing, “I suppose I do deserve it.” He silently agrees. “Anyways, after coming to my defense, I forgive you.” 

He snarls, that sudden irritation reviving itself. “I wasn’t coming to your defense.” 

You shrug, not looking bothered at all. “Fine. Defending yourself and by extension — and complete coincidence — me.” 

He decides it is best not to argue, and listens quietly as you walk with him back to his laboratory, chatting happily away once more. If you notice that over the next few days, his outbursts toward you decrease, you say nothing of it. And if you notice he is insulting other people more in other languages, seemingly for the sole purpose of making you laugh, you say nothing of it, too. 

You’re speaking Sumerian. 

Fluent Sumerian. Rapid-fire Sumerian, without blinking or stumbling over your words. Clean, pure Sumerian, speaking everything with the perfect enunciation of a noble. You don’t notice him behind you, utterly bemused, as you speak to a foreign dignitary from his homeland. The First drags him out of the underground labs from time to time in order to socialize and familiarize himself with the political atmosphere, but Dottore lets you do all the work for him. You engage in polite small talk, though delivered with much more enthusiasm than necessary. But the words are barely intelligible in his head. It isn’t possible that you’ve learned how to speak fluent Sumerian in such a short about of time. He will begrudgingly admit your brightness, small as it is, but even he cannot master a language within a few months. Which means there must only be one conclusion. 

When you notice him, your face morphs into one of surprised panic. Oh. He’s sure his fury is plain to see. It’s at that precise moment the dignitary — Dottore does not see the point in blessings but, Archons bless her — chooses to excuse herself, leaving you open and without a proper excuse to escape with. 

“You can speak Sumerian,” he says, plainly, having immediately taken the empty spot at your side. You take  cautious, half-step backwards. 

You look both amused and slightly abashed. 

He grits his teeth. “For how long?” 

“... since I was five." A pause. You look thoughtful. "Actually, it was your Greater Lord Rukkhadevata who first taught me."

This new piece of information surprises him so much that the flames of his anger are snuffed out, if only for a second. Then they come back raging, and he cannot contain it.

"You knew what I was saying this entire time!" He rages, jabbing an accusing finger at you. You cringe away. "You could understand all of it!"

"Not all of it—" When you see the exasperation that crosses his face, you smile. "Alright. Most of it." 

You begin to walk away, but he furiously follows you. "You lied to me!"

"You were cursing me to my face. I think it's a fair exchange." You shrug with one shoulder, eyes sparkling with mischief. "It was funny, anyway. Your cluelessness, that is." And then, "you should know, now that you know — I can speak the main languages of each nation." 

"I can too," he says haughtily, raising his chin up at you. 

"Really?" You laugh. "Cubitum eamus?"

"What?"

"Nothing." 

"What does that mean?" He demands, only half aware he's repeating the interaction you once had over a plate of pink and white sweets. He's never heard a language sounding quite like that. Perhaps it could be a dialect, but it doesn't sound similar to any currently existing language. "What language is that?"

You deliver your coup de grâce with such smooth smugness on your face. "It's Khaenri'ahn." The dead language. 

He blinks. Opens his mouth dumbly. And lunges.

As he chases you through the halls, your laughter floats warm and clear in the frigid winter air. You easily outpace him, but perhaps out of pity, you let him catch you and drag you to — well, he doesn't exactly know where he's going, only that he does not want to let you escape his rage. You thrash in his arms like a trapped animal, still controlled by a laughing fit all the while. 

"I hate you," he grumbles later, when you've calmed him with a slice of strawberry cheesecake from the kitchens. He's still quite angry, but not angry enough to not accept your peace offering. "You're horrible."

"So are you." 

A pause, then, "Teach me Khaenri'ahn," he says, leaning forward, a bright idea sparking in his chest. "There's so many texts I have yet to decipher — you have no idea the knowledge I can grasp if you teach me." He thinks of the old Ruin Golems in Sumeru. How hard it was to learn how to control them! But with your help, with your knowledge, he could crack the world open like an egg and watch its secrets spill like yolk. 

"I thought I was a bad teacher."

"Bad is better than none at all."

The utterly offended look that flashes on your face teases a grin from his mouth. "You're horrible."

"So are you."

He thinks he sees the corner of your mouth involuntarily curl upward. You twirl your fork in your fingers, humming thoughtfully. "Why should I?" 

"... For the pleasure of contributing to my research?" The look you give him tells him you're not at all convinced. He continues, "My research that is so very essential to the success of this nation?"

You scoff, but you cannot deny it. He would not be alive if he wasn't useful to Snezhnaya.

"You'll owe me," you tell him. 

He shrugs. "There's worse things in the world. Let's start."

It startles you somewhat. "What, now?"

"Yes, now. Unless you have other things to do?" 

You don't. Your language lessons with him already ended when he reached an acceptable mastery over Snezhnayan according to your mother, and he knows that though you have a schedule (mysterious and utterly incomprehensible though it is — not even he has been able to figure it out), you'd drop everything in an instant if something else interests you. Your other engagements are often boring things, too, and the only duty you ever truly commit to are the strange missions your mother sends you on, ones that could go for months on end. He's fairly certain you'll acquiesce to his request.

You pretend to consider it, before shrugging with hardwon carelessness and saying, "Fine."

You're exactly the same. Flighty, distracted, and prone to seamlessly maneuvering to an entirely different topic without blinking an eye. Half the cheesecake is eaten before you even start on the alphabet, and the journey to that is filled with endless detours that consist of bickering, fighting over the (large) cake, and kicking each other like children under his work table. His intelligence is insulted more times in half an hour than in his entire years of study at the Akademiya.

Dottore decides, with solid determination, after eating the last slice of cake, finally learning the pronunciation of the vowels and consonants, and being on the receiving end of an onslaught of Khaeri’ahn curses he truly cannot understand — which is horribly ironic considering the past few weeks — that he might as well beg the Jester for lessons instead, and no one can do a damn thing about it. He tells this to you, chin up, resolute and unwavering in his declaration. 

He never does get around to doing that. 

[lottiies]

re2r! Leon asking reader out for the first time n he plans out a whole date but reader actually hates the place he picks out LOL but powers through anyways just to get to know this cute boy but then he kinda catches on and feels bad oops obsessed with rookie leon can u tell

NO I GET YOUR OBSESSION HE’S SO CUTE

um…i wrote a quick snippet on this for funsies ⸜(˶´ ˘ `˶)⸝ fingers crossed for no typos

his plan was to first head to get some lunch. something casual, dinner would be too…stress inducing. he already sucked at talking with women, he needed everything to go smoothly. plus, food is the key to one’s heart, right? after that, you guys could walk around the nearby blocks, the place is surrounded with small stores full of all sorts of things like thrift and records stores, it was a great way to get to know each other’s interests and spare you from his natural awkwardness. it was a safe area, he would know, no calls from there ever reached the police department.

anyways!! the date was at stage one, and he thought everything was going really well! he had you laughing at his god awful jokes and your eyes never really strayed from his for too long. not once did you pick your phone up either. okay, he’s not boring you.

but after a while of chatting he glances down and realizes that you’ve only taken a bite of your food! maybe even a small second pity bite. at least you seemed to like your drink it was kind of hard to mess that up.

he gets all nervous immediately </3 if he fucked up the literal first part of the date, then maybe that would follow through onto the next portion. he’s cursed. well great, weren’t first impressions the most important? what if he came off as inconsiderate because he hadn’t noticed until half an hour in? geez, he wouldn’t be surprised if you pulled the whole ‘i need to go to the restroom’ bit and then ghosted his ass.

of course you didn’t, though! leon was such a sweetheart and his crooked smiles and awkward mannerisms brought warmth to your chest.

normally, this would have irked you just a bit. you were really fucking hungry. you hadn’t eaten breakfast since you had been too busy getting ready and gushing to all your friends about your upcoming date. like, you were sure if the music in the background was playing any lower, your stomach grumbling noises would be on blast…which would be really embarrassing. and who the hell was happy when they were hungry?

well…at the moment, you were. you liked him, genuinely. oh yeah, a crummy lunch order won’t deter you from being involved in his life!! your gut is telling you he’s the one, you can take the hunger.

“not a fan of the food?” he masked his nervousness with a smile as he gestured to your plate with his hand.

“oh, um…” after a shy moment of silence, you shook your head. “not really, but it’s totally okay! the place has some pastries that i was eyeing earlier…so maybe i’ll just grab one when we leave to walk around.”

maybe your kindness should reassure him but it made his palms all sweaty instead. you were so his type, he couldn’t mess this up.

“you…you sure? i could order something else for you right now.”

“no no no.” you reached for his hand, clasping it in yours. “don’t leave! i just wanna keep talking to you.”

he melted, his cheeks a subtle rosy shade. he looked down at your hands before glancing back up at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “yeah? thought this would make me lose points or something.”

if anything, he gained some in the cuteness department.

[torukmaktoskxawng]

Hi anla! are you comfortable writing a Tsireya x fem! Omatikaya! reader where reader is very tough and intimidating and is quiet and prefers to spend time alone. Tsireya finds her by the water one time instead of being with her family and tries to talk to her but gets blown off— she then makes it her mission to get close to reader and after a while reader lets her?? idk maybe some cute slow burn romance? thank you and ur writing is sooo good!

Pairing: Tsireya/Fem!Reader (Sully daughter, lol)

Word Count: 1,572

Warnings: Cuteness overload? Small mention of violence? Hinted courting? Not sure what else, but this was written on my phone, so it's not in my best element and is also shorter than I wanted.

Taglist: @mooniequeen @avatar-lover @taronyuhunter

A/n: I definitely played into the unspoken fact that Na'vi, or at least Forest Na'vi, are basically cats 😅

~~~~~~~~~

When you first brushed off Tsireya's friendly conversation, the chief's daughter was beside herself all night thinking she had done something wrong, wondering why anyone wouldn't want a new friend in a strange, foreign place far away from home. Tsireya knew that if she was in your place, she'd be desperate for new friends to keep herself sane so she wouldn't feel as homesick.

Needless to say it was a little hurtful and confusing when you completely ignored her attempts at befriending you. You, the sibling born between Kiri and Lo'ak, didn't appear interested in anyone or anything other than your space. Your brothers and sisters, who are way more outgoing and eager to befriend Tsireya and the other reef children, don't even appear bothered by your mannerisms. Tsireya decided to ask Lo'ak why that was.

According to your younger brother, you have always been this way. You kept to yourself and only made time for family when you absolutely had to.

"What about friends?" Tsireya had asked, bewildered.

Lo'ak simply shrugged, "She considers us her friends, too."

That baffled the reef girl to no end. How can someone not want to find friends outside of her own family? Wouldn't you get tired of them and need to talk to someone outside of your circle of relatives? Tsireya can understand having boundaries but to this extreme? It both confused and intrigued her.

No longer hurt by your behavior, her curiosity had gotten the better of Tsireya. Even though you were a little intimidating, it didn't sway her from trying to hang out with you more.

She first started by just simply staying by your side. She didn't talk or anything, just sat or walked by your side, regardless of the side glances you gave her. Despite wanting to fill any awkward silence between the two of you, she kept quiet and instead just tried to get you used to her presence, wanting you to at least trust and feel comfortable around her. Whenever you side-eyed Tsireya, she simply smiled and ignored how put-off and tough you looked.

Lo'ak had never seen a cat before in his life, but from what his father had told him, you were very much like one. Jake affectionately compared you to a stray cat all the time, even more so than Spider. To gain your trust, someone would need to have unlimited patience and kindness. No one outside of your family had ever tried and if they did, gave up too easily. Spider was the only exception. Growing up together, you silently considered him your family just as much as your siblings.

However, while watching Tsireya try to approach you with her silent tactics, Lo'ak couldn't help but agree with his father about the stray cat's comment.

Once it's safe to assume you didn't care whether or not Tsireya was hanging out with you, she moved on to small, teeny tiny talks. She does this by complimenting you.

"Your hair is really beautiful today."

"I love that bracelet Tuk made for you. It compliments your eyes."

"You're amazing at fishing!"

It was... like walking on thin ice. You didn't say anything back, but your expression made you look wary of the compliments. If your hair wasn't hiding them, Tsireya would've seen the dark blush that enveloped them. Once you are no longer entirely put off by this step of conversing with you, the chief's daughter starts letting you in on all of her village gossip.

"Don't let Rotxo know I told you this, but he's very infatuated with Kiri."

"My mother had to treat one of our deep divers who thought it was a good idea to wrestle with his own tsurak."

"Our best singer thinks she can fool everyone by always wearing a shawl, but we all know she's trying to hide her growing belly."

You never say anything in response to the gossip, but Tsireya didn't miss the way your ears twitched, letting her know that you were listening to her, regardless of how you felt about village rumors. It made her smile, knowing that you were paying attention. She hadn't realized, but Tsireya had found herself enjoying talking to you, even though you never responded. What was once an attempt to get you to like her ended up being something that she ended up liking about you. Tsireya is one who is never at a loss for words and has even been told at times -mostly by her brother- that she talks too much. So to have someone not say a word but she knows is listening to every word she says was heartwarming, to say the least.

The curiosity and drive to be your friend slowly turned into an infatuation when she got you to smile for the first time.

She had boldly decided to gift you something but knew that it wouldn't be genuine if she didn't make something that you liked. Instead of jewelry, she made a small shell ornament meant to go on the front of your ikran's harness. When she handed you the gift, she felt as though the air had been stolen from her lungs at the sight of your smile.

It was small, but it was definitely there. You had what Lo'ak and Spider would use to call a "resting bitch face" and so any other emotion you expressed was easy to place. Tsireya found herself wanting to weave your smile into her memory, to swim to the Cove of the Ancestors as fast as possible to connect to the Spirit Tree and have your smile forever remembered by Eywa.

"I don't know why you like her so much," Ao'nung comments as he and his sister do their morning chores. He visibly shivers with his usual, permanent scowl ebbed on his face, an expression he most definitely inherited from Ronal, "She looks like she could rip my throat out with her teeth."

Poor, sweet, innocent Tsireya found herself shocked as something warm and pleasant rolled in her stomach, the image of you being so ferocious sending a weak chill down her spine. Unbeknownst to Ao'nung, his sister was in a dilemma, beside herself as to why it pleased her at the mere thought of you being able to end someone just by using your teeth. Trying to hide the growing blush rising to her face, Tsireya kept her head down and purposely focused on the fishing net she was mending. 

"She's strong and fierce," the reef girl simply states, "And she's a good listener."

Ao'nung squints at her, baffled and put off by Tsireya's observation of you, but doesn't comment further.

But this strange friendship between you and his sister only baffled him further when the next time all of the reef children and Sullys were working together to build a strong canoe. You had approached the group, much to everyone's surprise, and held your hand out to the chief's daughter.

"Reya..."

All eyes quickly glance between you and Tsireya, not sure who everyone should be looking at. Rotxo and Ao'nung's jaws drop, never knowing what your voice sounded like before now. Ao'nung is even more affronted by the nickname you gave his sister. No one calls her that.

Tsireya's face visibly brightens as if you had just shown her the stars for the first time. Standing up to join you, she holds her hand out as you place something down in the center of her palm. 

Your smile had returned as she drew close, faint and perhaps a bit shy, but it was present and it made her heart skip a beat as you whispered, "A piece of the Omatikaya."

You drew your hand away and then quickly turned around, walking back down the beach from the way you came. Tsireya nearly whined when she could no longer feel the heat that naturally radiated from your skin before remembering the item now nestled in her hand. Looking down, she uncurls her fingers and gasps quietly.

It was a beautiful choker made out of red and orange beads, tied tightly together, meant to climb up her neck and make her look taller, something similar to what she'd seen Neteyam and Neytiri wear. She had never worn anything with such bright, warm colors, reminding her of the fire in your yellow, piercing eyes. Without a second thought, she removed her own necklace and replaced it with yours, her fingers shaking with excitement as she clasped it around her neck. Beaming proudly, she turned back to your siblings and the other reef children to show off your gift, and while some of them were speechless, Tuk wasn't the least bit surprised by the exchange she had witnessed and squealed.

"It looks so pretty on you! I was watching her make that for hours and couldn't wait to see how it turned out!"

The young Na'vi girl's statement had everyone finally blinking from their shock, Rotxo even going as far as complimenting Tsireya's new necklace while your siblings and even Ao'nung all looked at one another with wary suspicion. Ao'nung waited until Tsireya was caught up speaking adamantly to Tuk and Rotxo before he snapped quietly at the other Sully siblings.

"What in Eywa's name was that??"

Lo'ak's jaw tightens but he doesn't say a word, briefly remembering another fun fact about cats that his father once told him. Something about what it means when a cat likes or trusts another animal or person, they tend to start gifting things like dead rodents. 

He visibly shivers, hoping his sister won't go as far as to start bringing dead things to Tsireya.

~~~~~~~~~

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