#both are equally bad. but on tumblr it just turns my stomach because of how psychology and social justice is weaponized

[layzeal]

the smear campaign towards aaron bushnell on tumblr is so insidious man

[marudeinusa]

are u into svsss bcoz i've been meaning to ask someone who knows: what the fuck goes on in there question mark

I would not say I'm into it because it rests extremely low on my danmei rankings list, but I did read it (and own the oficial english TLs)...

Brief plot summary: Shen Yuan, a fan of male power fantasy xianxia webnovels reads a novel that it so intensely bad and insufferable it causes him to suffer a stroke (?) and die on the spot. He ends up isekaid into that very webnovel, reborn in the body of the protagonist's extremely bad tempered and violent shifu, Shen Qingqiu. At that point, the protagonist Luo Binghe is still a somewhat scatterbrained and puppy-eyed young teenager, but Shen Yuan/Qingqiu is aware that Luo Binghe will later end up a hardened and ruthless man who rises to power as emperor, kills his abuser (IN THIS CASE SHEN YUAN HIMSELF) and goes on to rape thousands of women and kill thousands of men. With the help of an inexplicable deus ex machina system of instructions, Shen Yuan realizes that he has to change the plot of the novel and raise Luo Binghe into a kinder man to evade his own death. He starts treating Luo Binghe with some basic human decency and gentleness, but this causes the boy to fall obsessively in love with him. Luo Binghe turning gay fucks up the novel hierarchy and throws the story off course, the characters exit stasis and the story begins evolving changed by Luo Binghe's ardent affection, and Shen Qingqiu's reluctant reciprocation once they reunite after Luo Binghe grows up. The plot itself and the background characters failed to be really original and intriguing compared to MXTX's following two works, so I'll skip through the majority of it unless you or anyone is REALLY interested in order to address the truly unsavory romance that really sullies my very beloved concept of "metafictional awareness alters the course of the story" that I wrote abt both academically and privately. Binghe/Qingqiu is a really grating relationship even for a reader like me who can stomach a lot in terms of unsavory BL, since Binghe has an extreme teacher/student kink and that sort of play (which I find mortifying as a victim of teacher SA I'll be real) extends thruout their encounters and well into their marriage, but I also hesitate to blame the older Qingqiu for this dynamic because he is more or less just constantly being assaulted and harassed and having sex acts he doesn't enjoy performed on him. Book 4, or the collection of extra side stories, is pretty much just Binghe assaulting Qingqiu in 1000 ways and it's supposed to be cute because Qingqiu doesn't hate it as much as before LOL. I would have been sick to my stomach reading it if MXTX's quality of writing at the time were not really poor and flowery in a way that reads as hilarious, one can only read about Binghe's meteorite-hard pillar of jade finding a hidden jewel within Qingqiu's hidden cavern so many times before becoming desentisized and just liveblogging it on tumblr for 3 likes.

Despite it all I don't regret giving this pillar of western danmei enjoyment a read because it offers a solid BG for critical analysis of MDZS and TGCF, novels which I enjoyed as leisurely reading significyntly more. "SVSSS is a parody" was uttered in its defense too many times to count, but I fail to see how that statement holds water considering it was (at least in western danmei circles) taken very nearly completely at face value, and considering that equally absurd and discomforting sexual power dynamics are very present in MDZS and TGCF. Looking at MXTX's entire opus its kind of insane how much of her pussy she put into putting that Enstars post thats like "if the younger person manipulates and abuses the older person in the couple, is it still a problematic age gap?" Into practical action LOL bizarre woman

[bts-reveries]

expect the unexpected |15

The Kim family had just finished dinner and were having family time in the living room!

Minseok played with his siblings on the coffee table. He was teaching his younger brother and sister how to share their toys as they often fought with each other. The two youngest’s personalities often clashed as Soojin and Haneul were both chaotic in their own ways.

“Soojinie,” Minseok calls, he notices that his brother was pouting next to his sister. “Let Haneul borrow that.” He points to the car Soojin was playing with. “You’ve been holding onto that this whole time, Haneul’s been wanting to play with it too.” 

“But it’s mine,” Soojin says, holding it close to her chest. 

“I know, but Haneul just wants to play with it. It will still be yours,” Minseok says, holding his arm out for the toy. Soojin hesitates, but gives it to him anyway.

“Here Han-Han,” Minseok says, acting cute when he gives the toy to Haneul. He only calls Haneul that when Haneul’s sad. 

Haneul immediately lights up when the toy car is given to him. 

“Thanks hyungie~”

“At least we raised one nice one,” Jin says, watching his three kids. The two of you were sitting on the couch. Well, you were sitting on the couch. Jin was laying down, facing up, with his feet on the arm of the couch and his head on your lap.

He turns his head to look up at you, snuggling his head on your lap. 

“They’re all sweet in their own way,” you respond, watching Soojin finally play with Haneul and Minseok smiling as he watches them two. “Look at them.” You gesture to the kids, watching them laugh with each other. 

“Yeah, if only it was like this all the time,” Jin sighs. Nowadays, he’s been busier and has been out of the house often. When he is with the kids, they’re often in bad moods, or he’s had a stressful day. Sometimes they're all in bad moods which makes it all just stressful for one another. If only it was like this all the time. When everyone’s happy~ 

He turns his head to look up at you. 

“Can you believe it’s almost been a month since our trip?” Jin says. Your anniversary trip was almost a month ago. Which is crazy to think. Time goes by fast doesn’t it? 

The two of you have been busy, with work and with the kids. Sometimes together, sometimes individually. There’s been long nights and long days. But it’s all worth it in the end. For nights like this.

“I miss Jeju,” Jin pouts, closing his eyes. You giggle, poking his round cheeks. “I wanna go on anodo twip~~” he whines, talking in aegyo. You roll your eyes, cupping his cheeks and shaking his head from side to side. 

“My baby wants to go on anodo twip?” you repeat, jutting out your bottom lip. Right when the word baby leaves your mouth, you see Haneul’s head whip towards you from your peripheral vision. You look up at him and he’s frowning.

“I’m the baby,” he says, pointing to himself. Jin turns to look at him and shakes his head.

“I’m mommy’s baby,” Jin says, turning his head toward your stomach, looking away from his kids. You look up at Haneul and you can tell that he’s mad. Minseok starts to giggle as Haneul starts walking up to his dad. 

“No! Me!” Haneul yells as he stands in front of his dad. “I’m baby!” With that came a smack to Jin’s shoulder. Jin’s head whips toward him so fast and his eyes are wide.

“Did you just hit me?”

Haneul hits him again. “I’m mommy’s baby,” he says, smacking Jin’s chest. 

“Stop hitting my daddy!” Soojin yells, running towards her brother. She pushes him to the side and hugs Jin. Of course this made Haneul scream. 

A quiet household doesn’t last long for you five. 

“Soojinah,” Jin whines, holding onto his chest. Acting as if he was so hurt. “Haneul hurt daddy.” 

“See you hurt my daddy!” Soojin yells, pushing Haneul back down as he finally gets up on his feet. 

“Yah--” You say, putting an arm on her shoulder. Let’s not take this too far.

“That’s my daddy too!” Haneul yells out. This whole time Minseok was just leaning over the coffee table, watching everything unfold before him.

“No he’s mine!” Soojin yells. 

“No, daddy is mine,” you say, making both of them turn to you. You lean down and hug Jin’s head, pressing his cheek against yours. “And I have known daddy for longer.”

You give Jin a kiss on the cheek, he already had a cheeky smile on his face. You turn to look back up at Soojin and her lips are quivering and her eyebrows were already turned upwards. 

“Soojinah--” You say, right before the floodgates have opened. 

Now you had two screaming and crying children as Haneul started crying right after his sister did. You froze, looking up at your last, quiet child. You and Minseok made eye contact and he let out a little smile, making you laugh. Your laughing only made Soojin cry louder. 

“Alright alright, daddy is yours, come here,” Jin says, sitting up and opening his arms. Soojin is still crying as she walks into her dad’s embrace. Jin picks her up, placing her on his lap. Soojin tucks her arms under herself, sandwiched between hers and Jin’s chest. Jin rubs her back, saying “it’s okay, no need to cry.”

“Haneul come to mommy?” You say, opening your arms as well. Haneul stands up and runs into your arms, crying into your chest. 

“How’d it turn out like this?” You say to Jin, letting out a small laugh. He shrugs his shoulders, smiling at you. 

You both are rubbing the two youngest’s backs, trying to calm them down. 

“Look at Minseok,” Jin tells you. You look up at your oldest and see him just awkwardly looking at you two. 

“What about you? Who’s your favorite?” You ask him. Clearly Soojin was more of a daddy’s girl and Haneul was more of a mommy’s boy, even though he was fighting over Jin.

“I love both of you equally,” Minseok answers. Jin nodded in approval, he said the right answer. 

“Oh! But hey, Haneul looks like you’re winning him over,” you tell Jin. Haneul often liked to be trouble with his dad, as if he hated him. But of course he was always sweet with you.

“Is that true Haneul-ah?~” Jin says, lowering his head down and looking at Haneul. He’s calmed down now, both him and his sister. “Do you like daddy more now?” 

Haneul looks up at Jin and looks back down, ignoring his answer. 

He definitely loves his dad.

“Can you two make up now?” You say, referring to Haneul and Soojin. You and Jin pulled away from the little ones for them to sit up and look at one another.

“Make up so we can play already,” Minseok says, walking towards his siblings. 

“Han-Han~” Minseok says, putting a hand on Haneul’s back. “Jinie-Jinie-Soojinie~” He says in a sing-songy voice, turning to his sister and putting a hand on her back. 

Haneul slides off of you and hugs Minseok, looking up at his sister. 

“Go say sorry to Haneul,” Jin tells Soojin. She frowns, sliding off of him and walking towards Minseok.

“Sorry Haneul,” she says, pulling and tugging onto Minseok’s shirt, trying to avoid eye contact. 

“Haneul say sorry to noona too,” you say. 

“Sorry~” He says, looking up at his sister.

“Okay~ Let’s play now,” Minseok says, patting Haneul’s back. 

With that, the three turned around and began playing as if nothing had just happened. Jin sighs, going back to his previous position and laying back into your lap.

“Yeah,” he says, eyes closed and all. “I want to go back to Jeju.” 

You laugh, patting his cheeks. 

“We can go,” you say, his eyes opened so quickly. As if they were saying ‘really??’ 

You nod, “but with the kids this time.” He whines, dropping his head down and shutting his eyes. You laugh at his reaction, squishing his cheeks once again. 

*ring ring*

You turn to the sound. “Is that mine?” You say. You and Jin have the same ringtones. 

“I think so, my phone is in our room,” Jin responds. Eyes still closed, not budging one bit. 

“Well can you get off of me so I can get it?” 

Jin shakes his head no. You sigh.

“I’ll get it mommy,” Minseok says, running to your phone. 

“Thanks sweetie,” you say, watching your oldest run and get your phone. He gives it back to you quickly and returns back to his siblings.

“Oh it’s my dad,” you say, answering the call.

“Hello?” You say. “Dad, is everything okay?” Your eyes widen as he explains the unexpected call. You didn’t have much to say but ‘Yes-- What?-- When?-- Wait-- Why?-- Tomorrow?-- Okay.. I’ll be there.’

You ended the call after what seemed like forever. 

It was mostly you listening while your dad talked. Jin looks up at you, he couldn’t hear much of the conversation.

“What did he say?” he asks.

“My mom’s sick,” you say, feeling uneasy. “I have to leave tomorrow.”

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

expect the unexpected

♡ part fifteen: im baby ♡ 

pairings: ceo, dad!jin x interior designer, mom!reader

a/n: okay i feel like i’ve been saying this, but nOw we’re getting somewhere

also, i know i haven’t been constant as i used to be and that’s more of a part of me not being in the mood to post much, which is also on the fact that i don’t think much people (at least compared to the previous member’s au), are reading this one? i have new readers everyday for the other au’s and although a lot of people love this series and were anticipating this au, this has been the au with the least feedback/readers which make me wonder if it’s boring or what haha ahh.. i don’t want to be that person who’s looking for likes or anything but in the bts tumblr fanfic community idk if everyone’s aware of this, but jin’s au tend to be the ones with the least amount of readers etc. which is why there isn’t much fics on him, a lot of writers gets unmotivated to write for him when they know it doesn’t get as much as tae’s and jungkook’s. and im starting to feel that way, just because for previous au’s i’d constantly post because i’d always get feedback on every update and it motivates me to write more but this au has been the driest au ever lol which is sad because a lot of people were asking to be added to the taglist and i have no idea what happened to them now but i just hope everyone’s okay! i know none of us are obligated to be on top of reading updates but i just wanted to say how i felt. the only thing keeping me going on this au is jin. haha, as silly as that sounds, i don’t want more au’s on him to discontinue because of things like this. im ot7, this whole au is for all of the members so i hope my followers and fellow tmbmil fam continue to read till the end because i did had something planned for the ending, which might just not happen depending on how this au ends. but also the others that keep me going is my sister, a fellow jin bias, and the handful of readers who comment on my updates haha but yeah, this is just how im feeling. i don’t want anyone to think im just not in the mood to do this thing anymore. i really did enjoy this

this was an unexpectedly long a/n, im sure only a few will read this actually, but to those 3 or 5 people who see this, i hope you have a lovely day/night! thank you for reading this, you have my love 💜

taglist: @silentlyimpractical @jillianmarie @waddlebby @cecedrake2217 @ddofa @samros95 @sope-and-shine @joonjoonsmiles @codeinebelle @aianloveseven @Chamchamcham @princessjazzyjazz @notvantaes @casspirit0705 @ramyagovindraj @brinnalaine @ephyra1230 @betysotelo18 @thoughtfultaledreamer @salty-for-suga @cosmicdaylight @dreamcatcherjiah @kookoo-kachoo @justinetingball  @josierosie @jayhope88 @butterflylion @hobiismyhopeu @momma-said-that-it-was-oke @shinyplaidbagellamp @catspancake @somewhereofftheglobe @strawberryforever25 @rjsmochii @prdshobi @beeeb05 @eatjeanjin @taekookcaneatme @Cheeely14 @kookietsukkie @anpanman-sonyeondan @glitteringcoffeefreak @chocobetterknot @alpaca1612 @ohmy-fandoms @liljooniecutie @Jikachoo @preciouschimine @fan-ati--c @Joondala @httpmuffin @dammit-jjk @jikooksgirl19

TAGLIST IS CLOSED!

to be notified when i post, please turn on my notifications! thank youu~

[jkknight98]

My G/T promt challenge attempt inspiration.

This was my first attempt at ever doing a collective prompt challenge so it’s very safe to say I am a little nervous posting this story, especially since I suck at writing standard stories and fell back into my comfort zone, but I hope that everyone who reads enjoys it. It's from @bittydragon idea ( If I knew how to link the original post I would, but I am not very well versed in Tumblr writing yet).

The prompt was to have the tiny protect the giant, I was faced with two options that I could do, protecting the mental self vs the physical self. I chose protecting from the physical since a giant can easily protect the outside of their bodies, but their insides can be easily hurt without them knowing until much later.

Here’s Tommy protecting a gaint Wilbur from his own poor judgement plus interactions from the rest of the sleepybois inc.

Warnings : Blood warning, slight mention of regurgitating meal, soft vore, cursing.

(I have always viewed soft vore as a sfw interest but I know others may not so I’ll leave it out of the main collective tag just to be safe until I’ve been given the all clear to add it, but otherwise I’ll say its just an inspiration from all the wonderful work already posted through the challenge.)

G/T Prompt Challenge

Wilbur should have known that his habit of eating sand would come back to bite him one day, but who could blame him when he enjoyed the texture of sand crunching in his teeth and the feeling it made tumbling around in his stomach. It was supposed to be a normal day when the sands decided to strike back against him. He was just enjoying a warm summers day with his family at the nearby beach, techno was asleep under a umbrella while Phil was trying to keep his tiny brother Tommy from accidentally drowning himself by jumping from the giant's knee and then pinching them to make the man jump and create massive waves for the little gremlin. He couldn't hide his smile as he took hold of another handful of sand and let it fall in clumps into his mouth, not noticing the hidden treasure chest even when it landed in the middle of his tongue with the copious sand, he didn’t get a chance to chew the sand before his father yelled at him after seeing what he had done, swallowing the mouthful quickly before the giant avian could force him to spit it out,” Alright Alright Phil, I've had my two mouthfuls for the day.”

“ You shouldn’t be eating any, what are you going to do if you swallow something that isn’t just sand, what are we going to do then!”

Wilbur just laughed at his yelling father as he leaned backwards on his hands, smiling as he watched Tommy get his fathers attention again by using his feathers as a climbing frame, he shook his head at the sight. He really did love his mixed-up family.

~~

It wasn't until they were having dinner that night did they all find out the true dangers of his habit. They haven't been eating long, Phil chatting with Techno about who knows what while Tommy darted around the table pulling himself chunks of food from everyone's plate, Phil had learned quickly not to make one for Tommy since the tiny always said that everyone else's looked better, and Willbur was waiting for the next pass of the tiny so he could pull his target out of reach. He had pulled up a giant piece of pork away from the tiny, quickly stuffing it into his mouth and laughing as the gremlin child raged at him, he quickly chewed and swallowed down the meat as he dodged the tiny pea that was thrown at him, ” Come on Tomms, I know you have a better arm than that.” He continued to eat a bit more on his plate, subtly feeling how much he ate already before he stopped, feeling a touch of pain from his stomach.

“That's weird?”

“What's weird Will?”

His father looked at him slightly concerned when he had pushed his chair back a bit to look down at himself, taking a hand to gently place on his stomach, ” I don't know dad, my stomach just started hur-ghh.” The moment he put a slight amount of pressure on his stomach it felt as if something was ripping inside, the pain was bad enough that it nearly brought him to tears. He quickly pulled up his shirt to see if it was something on the outside, but the skin was perfectly clear with no signs of irritation.

“Wilbur walk me through what hurts.”

The avian was already up and at his side while Techno was holding Tommy at his other side, but still out of the way of their father, both looking equally as concerned.

“What's wrong with you big man, finally bite off more than you could chew?” The tiny looked as ridiculous as usual trying to act indifferent like the oldest, but it was easy to see the real concern hidden behind his normal snark.

“Oh shut up before I feed you to a bird Bratt, ” Wilbur stuck his tongue out at him before wincing again when he felt his fathers cool touch, ” hurts right where your pressing.” He watched as Phil's hand began pressing at different parts of his body, telling him about how the pain was worse in that spot, but could feel it throbbing into other areas.

He watched his father frown before he went to stand fully, he looked more concerned than he had before, but didn't voice anything to clue his sons into what he was thinking. The avain walked over to a side room to grab a small bucket and set it into Wilbur’s lap, taking care to not press it against his stomach, before sitting back in his chair to look at his son, ” I'm going to need you to empty your stomach a small amount, I don't want you to empty it fully just in case it's something I hope it's not, but I want to check just in case.

Wilbur felt a little annoyed at the thought, they were just eating dinner and now dad wants him to spit up half of it just because of a little stomach pain? “ Really dad I'm sure I'm fine, it's probably something stupid like I ate to big-.”

The avians wings puffed up in an attempt to show how serious he was to his son,

“Dont argue with me Will, just do it.”

Wilbur looked at the sternness on his father's face and sighed, ” fine, ” he began flexing the muscles he used for whenever Tommy used his stomach as his personal sleeping bag and nearly cried when he felt his stomach explode in pain again. It was as if every moment his stomach made was like it was ripping itself open. He only got a little bit into his throat before he had to stop because the pain was too much, quickly spitting the mouthful into the bucket and thrusting it into Phils arms as he leaned over and and gently wrapped his arms around himself, ” please don't make me do that again, it really fucking hurt.”

He didn't see the concern on Phil’s face as he looked into the bucket and showed it to his other two sons, Techno looking equally as concerned while Tommy looked confused. The tiny leaned further over the slightly tinted pink fingers and wrinkled his nose at the almost coffee ground looking substance that rested in the bottom.

“What is that brown stuff, Wilbur didn't eat any mud before we had dinner.”

The father figure kept up his concerned expression as he set down the bucket to run a hand through his hair,”That's because that isn’t mud, that's what it looks like when someone is suffering from internal bleeding.” Phil looked back at Wilbur's plate and the others quickly as he used his hands to feel for anything that could have been hidden inside,” I don’t know what you could have swallowed Wil, I made sure to not have any bones in anything.”

Wilbur just shook his head as it swam a little bit in pain,” I don’t know either, all I've eaten before it started hurting was dinner and the sand at the beach.” he gave another groan as his stomach gave another contraction and sent another wave of pain,” I'm just going to stall my system until we figure out what to do.” He closed his eyes to concentrate and felt the change gradually, his stomach calming and finally coming to a standstill to prevent the walls from churning at the rate that they were, no longer trying to digest the little bit of dinner he consumed.

Techno was the first to gently move Tommy to one hand as he used his other to gently grip his brother on the shoulder,” You sure you didn’t eat anything between our beach trip to now, nothing at all?” The piglin hybrid was clearly a little on edge, he was fully capable of protecting his family from the outside, but even he was powerless when a threat came from their own insides.

Everyone was a panicking a bit more as they tried to think what could be doing this to the musically inclined son before Tommy spoke up, the tiny brightening as he thought of a good idea in his mind,” Why don’t I go inside to check, I can go and see whats wreaking up your insides, that would work wouldn't it?”

The thought made Will turn a little green, ” I don't know if I could get you down with how bad it hurts,” he managed to make a teasing smirk though,” you sure you want to see that porkchop again.” He laughed at the face the tiny had made, but winced again when a flash of pain punished him for this action. He took a slow breath and tried to raise up as slow as he could, wincing as he got to his full sitting height,” are you really sure you want to do that, it’s going to be more gross than ever.”

The tiny just smiled as he pushed up his sleeves and held up his arms in a clear ‘pick me up’ gesture,” I can’t really protect you guys from the outside, but I am able to help you from the inside, besides a little gunk isn’t going to stop me from keeping my big brother safe.”  

The response brought a small smile to Will's face as he lifted the tiny,” alright you sap, let's get a plan put together before you go saving me from what's hurting me.”

`~`

Tommy stood in Will’s hand and gently shuffled the duffle bag on his shoulder that held a small knife and a small splash healing potion to reduce the damage before a proper healing potion could be taken, he looked up with another smile,” alright, let's get this over with before you get even worse.”

Will smiled lightly before opening his mouth, feeling his smaller brother clamber his way inside and curling up, and slowly closed his mouth and tilted his head back. He felt a mild wave of sickness at the thought of the heavy weight his brother would unintentionally create, but forced it away as he gave a quick swallow,using a hand to gently touch the firm bulge before it slipped behind his collarbone. He looked up to his dad and other brother with a weak smile,” let's hope he finds what's wrong and not cause any more damage.”

Tommy couldn’t help the soft noise of disgust as he slid into the stomach, landing in knee high mix of the stomach's contents, but he also noticed a strange glowing that was coming from what he suspected to be the front of Willbur’s stomach. He was quick to wade his way over to the object, also taking note of a few other things that shouldn’t have been there floating in the muck. “When did he manage to eat chainmail….oh my god.” Sticking out the stomach wall that looked very inflamed under the shiny purple glow was an iron sword, the handle looking a little worse for wear like the armor but the blade looked perfectly fine as it held firmly in the slowly bleeding wall. Tommy was momentarily shocked before he went to inspect the wound, wincing as he yelled up to Wilbur to inform him what he found.

Wilbur heard the tiny voice of Tommy yell out at him, listening for a moment before looking at the two other giants in pure confusion,” He found a sword sticking into me, as well as chain mail armour… when the hell did that get in there.” He jerked and gave a loud yelp as the pain in his middle got more intense before he felt the normal tingling of a healing potion,” You could have warned me before you pulled it out you little shit.”

Phil was the first to slap a hand to his head,” we were on a beach next to the ocean, you probably ate a buried treasure without realizing, this is what you get for eating sand all the time, be thankful tommy was here or else things could have been way worse.” The elder left the room quickly with a yell on how he's going to get a large healing potion to ensure the wound would fully heal once the youngest was released. The second eldest looked at Wilbur with a small smirk as he got up, giving a quiet ‘ I told you so’ before also leaving the room.

The remaining son sighed as he placed a hand over his stomach, softly rubbing where he felt his tiny brother was leaning,”Let's get you out of there Toms.”

`~`

“I really can’t thank you enough Tommy, if what you were saying was true, there would have been no way for us to get that sword out on my own. Also what enchantments did it have on it.”

Tommy smiled up from his cosy position in a towel placed on Wilburs chest, snuggling further into the softness and warmth the two provided together,” It had unbreaking on it, it would have taken you ages to digest the thing, and you would have to go through so many healing potions since you couldn;t heal around it.”

The elder nodded and placed his hand over the towel as he laid his head on his pillow, using his thumb to stroke the tiny in thanks,” what would I do without you, you little gremlin.” He smiled when he felt a small pair of arms wrap around his thumb tightly and pull it to rest on the tiny’s chest where he could feel the gentle breathing.

“ You wouldn’t be able to shit, someone has to protect you giant bastards when you think nothing can hurt you, especially things at my size.”

[chitsangenthusiast]

okay so from what it seems like i don't think wip wednsday is as popular on tumblr but!! well!!! i will share my zukka izumi-centric wip scenes anyway!!

(under a cut tho bc i use the term 'snippet' very loosely lol)

“Izumi,” he gently chides, and tries to pull on her hand clenched around his collar. “C'mon, don’t you want to say hi to—”

“Uncle Sokka!” Sokka grins, and ducks around Zuko’s side to try to see her face. As soon as he catches her eye, he scrunches his nose into a funny face that knocks a little smile out of her and she angles her head, just the slightest bit, to look at him better. “The last time I saw you, you were a little squirt of a penguin-squid!”

Her grip on Zuko’s robes loosens as she pulls her face out of her dad’s shoulder, and she turns when Sokka makes his way back to standing in front of them, a look of charmed interest all over her face. Sokka opens his hands and ducks a little again, and says sweetly, “Can I say hi, Izumi? I missed you a lot, you know.”

Izumi grins, a shyly excited little thing, and she tentatively leans out so Sokka can grab her from Zuko’s arms. When she slips into his arms, Sokka lets out the happiest sigh as he gently lays his head on top of hers, and his eyes close in contentment when he hears her giggle after he wraps her in a one-armed hug.

Zuko can’t stop his own bubbling smile from bursting over his lips at the display.

“Ahh, yup, missed you a lot, princess!” Sokka says into her temple, eliciting another bout of giggles from Izumi, then turns his head to open an eye to Zuko. His voice is soft, and his smile is even softer, when he says, “Missed you a lot.”

Sparks erupt in Zuko’s stomach, his heart rockets in pleasure as his face heats a little at the attention, and he’s ridiculously grateful for his daughter when she wiggles in Sokka’s hold to let out an excited, “yeah! yeah!” because it effectively (hopefully) covers his own breathless agreement.

He clears his throat to dislodge some of the fluttering, and reaches out to put a hand on his daughter’s head—a quick distraction to collect his face—before they turn to start walking inside. He can only half meet Sokka’s eyes when he says, “so, why are you here?”

As soon as it comes out, Zuko catches himself and immediately follows it with a flustered, “not that you’re not welcome! I’m just surprised—I know you were in the middle of some projects from your last letter, so I just wasn’t expecting you to show up or—”

Sokka, thankfully, saves him from his rambling with a slightly embarrassed chuckle. “Yeah, I know, sorry. Turns out, bringing the project to the Council went off without a single hitch this time. There was basically nothing in the way for them to immediately start implementing it, which like—” Sokka rolls his eyes— “figures, just when I’m getting used to them being total jerks about the whole thing, they decide to throw a curveball and play easy for me for once.”

It sounds exactly like something Zuko himself has faced with his own council, which makes him snort and offer a heavily knowing, “how rude of them.”

“Rude!” Izumi pipes up, to Zuko’s chagrin, happily looking over her shoulder at him from within Sokka’s arms. He rushes to shush her, but Sokka just laughs as he bounces her a little in his hold with a firm nod and pursed lips. Izumi giggles and pokes at his cheeks, making him break out in a grin.

“So rude is right, Izumi. Literally the worst, sometimes!” Sokka then turns his smile to Zuko, as he continues, “so all that planning and accounting for what should’ve been like a ridiculous amount of time trying to convince them on my new expansion plan went up in smoke, because they approved it in like—the first twenty minutes of me pitching. We basically left the meeting with a start date already in motion and left me with all of this free time. Ugh.”

The sound of Sokka’s sarcastic frustration fascinates Izumi, and she must like the way it sounds in her throat because she starts repeating the noise in delight as she copies the way Sokka was bouncing her earlier. Sokka chuckles, both at her and at Zuko’s exasperated sigh, then pokes Izumi in her stomach as an attempt at a distraction. “Hey, ‘zumi, try saying my name! Can you say ‘Sokka’?”

Izumi looks at him, and hiccups out a few more sounds mimicking Sokka’s earlier noise. With a guilty laugh, Sokka ducks his head when he looks over at Zuko, and says, “Sorry, I tried at least.”

Zuko just rolls his eyes and reaches over to take Izumi back from him, but he’s smiling soft when he says, “You’ve only been here for like ten minutes, Sokka, and you’re already teaching her all kinds of bad things.”

“Oh, like she doesn’t hear you huff and puff all the time, huh?”

Zuko cuts an amused glance over, and then pointedly looks back down to Izumi. “Izumi, can you say Sokka’s name? Sah-kha?”

“S’ka!” she chirps, to his total delight, and then follows it up with an equally happy, “Ugh!”

Sokka’s mouth drops completely open, and Zuko laughs loud at the distraught expression on his face. He jabs an accusing finger at him, and squawks out, “you taught her that, didn’t you!”

“No!” Zuko laughs, grinning wide at his friend’s indignity. “I swear I didn’t—Uncle does say she has a good judge of character!”

“Rude,” Sokka simply says. “Mean. I should’ve gone and taken my vacation with your uncle instead.”

Zuko smiles, and readjusts to better hold Izumi after she perked up from hearing the familiar word for her grandfather. “Mn, Uncle wouldn’t have minded you dropping by suddenly—he loves those kinds of things. There’s no Izumi there, though.”

“True,” Sokka nods, reaching out to poke at her side again just to hear her giggle, but then he winces. “Uh, sorry for not writing first, or like—even asking. I meant to, but by the time I remembered I hadn’t done any of that, I was only like half a day out. Don’t worry, I know how to keep myself busy while you’re in meetings, and I figured I could stay for like a week or two before you kicked me back out!”

Zuko’s already mentally running through the list of his meetings over the next few weeks to see how he can rearrange everything. He hums softly, and goes right back to not being able to look Sokka directly in the eyes when he says, “you know you’re always welcome as a guest, Sokka. I’m—we’re happy you’re here. It’s been awhile.”

“Ha, I know. The last time was when this one was in diapers!” Sokka directs this response to Izumi, cooing into her cheek before theatrically gasping. “And now she’s such a big girl! I can’t believe how fast she’s already grown!”

“Well, technically she’s still in diapers,” Zuko chuckles. “But you’re right, she’s growing too fast.”

“Growing big and strong! Look out Zuko, soon enough my niece will be taking you out!” Sokka leans back in and tickles at Izumi’s giggling cheek. “Isn’t that right my little strong Fire Lord Princess?”

[roast-ifs]

December Drabble Request #1

Hi everyone! In case you missed the announcement, I am now doing monthly drabble requests on my patreon!

I’m doing this there instead of here for my own management bc I know I would just get absolutely overwhelmed if I offered requests on tumblr :’D

So, here’s the first one!

Prompt: Danny & “You’re too good to be hanging out with me” 

It really shouldn’t have come up at all. You were just sitting there in the train’s lounge, surrounded by creature comforts--plush pillows, a crackling fire in the tiny wood stove in the corner, and a warm drink in your hands. The train is moving slowly through wintery fields, it’s dark, it’s late, but you had dreams, nightmares, and Danny was…

Danny was kind.

They opened their door to you, spooked and shivering and flinching from the shadows in the corners of your eyes and they’d just, without question, without demand, and with no conditions whatsoever… helped.

They guided you with gentle feathers to the kitchen, set a pot of milk on the stove and told you to watch it as they puttered around getting the fixings for coco ready while you stirred and watched and forgot about the shadows. At least for a little while.

They didn’t need you to say anything. To explain. They didn’t complain, didn’t accuse, just smiled softly, sweetly, and always with a touch of worry. When the coco was ready they took you to the lounge where you two sat and they talked.

Softly. Like everything they do. They didn’t talk about the bad things, they never do, they talk about the mundane. About how cute the shops were at the last hamlet you’d gone through, their dubious enthusiasm for the latest playbill being advertised as both a comedy and a tragedy.

Nevermind that it sounds too much like your life.

Hilariously tragic.

But it’s what they love. And they’re sharing it with you. Sharing coco, warmth, and a thing that makes Danny smile.

When they smile at you, it clicks that you’re maybe one of those things, those people, that brings Danny to smile with reckless abandon. And it sours the chocolate in your stomach.

“What’s wrong?”

You look up from your coco gone lukewarm, surprised at the shock of salty burn in your eyes--not fallen, not visible, but tears still there--to see Danny, wings low, looking at you with upturned brows and a softened whisper making the scratchiness of their voice all the more pronounced.

They are concern wrapped in generous spoonfuls of love and shyness, and what are you but the bitter burn of a short-temper and snappy rebuttals? Of hate and loathing and so much anger--at the world, at ERA, at the circumstances that forced you into loyal servitude.

You are rot and putrid malice most days, maybe you’ve gotten better, just by a bit, but will that ever be enough to… to be enough?

You don’t think so. Not really. You’re fake, and an illy-made one at that.

“Nothing. I’m… I’m just-” a fool? An ass? You sigh and set your mug down, forcing yourself to look at Danny, to watch, “You’re too good to be hanging out with me.” You confess. 

Because you have to. Because how else will Danny get it that you’re just not enough?

Their face drops, and their frown deepens and purses, twisting into something trying to hold back pain. Because that’s what you cause. Pain.

“I’m--I’m not though-”

“Danny,” You scoff, “You’re so much better than what I deserve.”

Danny doesn’t look at you. Not for a long moment. Long enough for you to start to come to terms that this is it. You’ve finally gone and done it, pushed them so far away that they don’t want to put forth the effort to try again.

But then they look up, face set, scowl firm and steel in their eyes, “That’s bullshit.” 

You blink, shocked, “Danny-”

“I’m not--I’m not ‘better’, I’m not ‘good’, I’m just me and yeah maybe--maybe being just me is different and--okay yes maybe a little but--” they cut themself off with a frustrated, if adorable, huff and turn in the loveseat to face you fully, “I’m not better than what you deserve. Saying that is like… is like I’m doing this out of charity. That I’m--that I’m-” They sniff.

Now you’ve really gone and done it now, made Danny cry.

“Danny, I didn’t mean-”

“No. I’m not done.” They fix you with a searing look and you click your mouth shut, and listen.

“Listen to me. I’m so glad you’re my friend. I’m so happy that you’ve--that you’re not--that you’ve come so far! You’ve gotten so much better and made so much progress and that’s so fucking admirable and you’re--you’re you and isn’t that worth it? I’m me, you’re you, we’re friends, and it’s no more or less than what either of us deserve.” They breathe, blinking almost in shock at their own rant, ducking their head and lifting their wings in a poor attempt to hide, “I’m sorry. I’m just… I know things haven’t been easy for you and… and I like hanging out with you. And I don’t want that to change.”

When they look at you again it’s with round pleading brown eyes and you, like the tender soul you’ve tricked yourself into being, at least for tonight, can’t help but melt. Maybe you can round off your sharp brittle edges, just for a little while, just for Dana?

You want to say something equally as emotional but you’re not sure you have that kind of fire in you, so you settle for a forced and creaky whisper of a response.

“Thank you.”

And Danny beams like you’ve given them everything they could’ve ever wanted in the world. But that’s preposterous. Who could possibly want you more than anything else?

Apparently… they do.

“Thank you.”

[bjy-on-ao3]

Kinktober 2021, Day 5

As usual, you can find the AO3 version of all my uploads [and some things I don’t post here to tumblr] via my Masterlist blog page.)

I went through several iterations of this in my head, trying to decide on who finding who would be best. This is what I settled on. Unfortunately, I also managed to lose a bit of dialogue I initially thought was on point, and had to replace it when I couldn't remember what it was later on.

Summary There are often reasons someone wants their space and time alone. Very rarely interrupting that alone time could be a boon.

Tags/Warnings Accidental Voyeurism, Dragoon Reader, Kinktober, Kinktober 2021, Oneshot, Masturbation, Prompt, Reader-Insert

Kinktober 2021, 05: Caught Masturbating (Reader x Estinien Wyrmblood | FFXIV)

It was the latest day of several on a trip into the wilderness to hone your lance skills and various other tricks of your trade. In between the brutal training sessions that left you bruised and sore, you had enjoyed the serenity of the world around you, off the beaten path from merchants and other travelers. Each night you had drifted off to sleep exhausted, but content with your progress, and the company of your teacher.

The sun was en route to its usual path beneath the horizon, and your training for the day had come to an end. As before, Estinien had given you no quarter, the way you preferred things. He would never have heard the end of it if he had gone easy on you in your training, after all. Though you didn’t miss the fleeting, tiny smiles when you surprised him or simply did better than expected, sure signs he was pleased with you. Each of them was a boon, fueling you tired body through the rest of the training regimen.

Yet as pleased as he seemed with you, after each and every training session, every day, Estinien would disappear for a bit, leaving you to your own devices. Usually, you just let him go, assuming the gruff elezen just needed to decompress or patrol or go clean away the sweat and grime from the rough sparring sessions. You hadn’t bothered to ask though, nor had you thought on it much until the most recent afternoon.

Assuming patrol was the most likely reason, you decided that you wanted to join him in ensuring the surrounding area was safe. After all, as competent as the both of you were, it seemed folly still to go off alone for too long. So not long after Estinien had wandered off, not even a quarter of a bell passing, you set off in search of him. He could cover great distances in a short time, true enough, but you were no slouch in that respect either, and you imagined he wouldn’t have gone too far.

Eventually, you spied a flash of snowy white and the glint of metal in the light of the descending sun and honed in on the source. Sure enough, through the brush, you could make out Estinien’s form reposing against an outcropping of rocks and a tree not more than a few days fallen. You grinned to yourself and approached, fully expecting Estinien to hear or sense you coming before you he really saw you. Yet his stance didn’t shift, and the closer you came, the more you realized he seemed… distracted.

Coming to the edge of the small clearing ringed with brush and crossing through it, you stopped dead in your tracks, finally having a less unobscured view of your traveling companion and teacher. You couldn’t stifle a small, strange noise at the sight that greeted you. Estinien was very distracted indeed, and his eyes were closed, a mixed look of focus and pleasure on his face. Some of his armor had been shed, baring pale skin to the air, and his head tipped back lightly. You followed one long arm down to where his cock stood free and clear from his armor and small clothes, his hand wrapped around it greedily.

Before the sound of your voice had broken the peace, Estinien hand stroked up and down his cock vigorously, pearly pre-cum beading at the head before being slicked along his length. He looked to be very much enjoying the moment, some silent words whispering past his lips. The spell of bliss Estinien had been under, though, was shattered by the noise you made, betraying your presence and declaring to him that he was no longer alone. His frame stiffened, and his hand jerked away from his cock, icy eyes shooting open to meet and hold yours.

For a few seconds that dragged on forever, neither of you could look away. Your eyes were trapped on the sight spread before you, a sight that made you flush hotly with both embarrassment and an unexpected wave of arousal. Estinien’s expression was shocked at first, though it flickered through several emotions in a fraction of time. Back and forth, as if arguing with himself over something. He didn’t move to hide his cock away initially, simply obscuring it with the cover of his limbs. Just when he was about to shift, turn away and tuck himself back into his small clothes, the focus of your eyes broke off, darting down for a lingering moment.

Half-turned, Estinien stalled, eyes narrowing as he tried to pierce the silence and solve the puzzle of your own expression. Though you had looked as shocked as him to start, a primal ember had ignited, chasing away the surprise, and leaving a hunger likely thought hidden in its wake. You weren’t averse to the sight of him unhindered, only caught off guard. The realization came to you nearly at the same time as it dawned on Estinien.

Though your realization had been made, you remembered in that same instant your decency - that staring wordlessly right at the man’s dick was likely not what you should be doing right then. With a hard swallow, you forced your face to the side, clearing your throat nervously as if to defuse the awkwardness you thought had been born. Your face felt even more searing, and you licked your lips absently, though with how dry your mouth was, it did you little good.

“I-I apologize. Don’t know what came over me,” you lied. “I was just…” you couldn’t think of a proper excuse. Surprised? Was that the word you were looking for? Certainly, that was part of the truth, but not its entirety.

Before you could drum up some reason you had been eyeing him in all his glory so intently after catching him masturbating in the woods, Estinien’s gravelly voice interrupted your thoughts.

“Are you going to give me shoddy excuses or are you going to give voice to the words shown on your face so clearly?”

Estinien’s rough, deep speech was already pleasant to you during day-to-day, mundane routine and duties, but something else infused his tone now that made you shiver, the heat from your cheeks and chest radiating through your form. Were you that much of an open book to him? Perhaps he hadn’t seen straight through your stammering and was only bluffing, as flustered as you were. But when you turned your head back, keeping your gaze level with Estinien’s, you saw the same desire you felt reflected at you. Either he very much liked the attention, or he very well knew what you were feeling, and it stirred the same within him.

In the beginning, Estinien had been caught red-handed, but now it was your turn to be caught out. Though was that such a bad thing? He had as much as demanded you tell him what he had read on your face. But what if you were still misunderstanding? Your stomach floundered at the thought, but the swelling heat in you shoved the uncertainty aside. You were going to take your change - you had already embarrassed both of you, could it get much worse?

You hesitated for another second, letting your eyes drift down again finally. Estinien still hadn’t bothered to put himself away, and through the shield of his limbs, you noted he continued to stand obviously erect. That was the last of the convincing you needed to answer his demand.

“F-Fine. I… I didn’t want to look away. Is that what you wanted to hear?” you asked defensively, attempting to wet dry lips once more. “I came looking to join you on patrol, to keep you company. But now, I’d rather much like to keep you company in a different manner.” At first, the words were a struggle, but as they went on, they emboldened you, bursting out. Relief and another rush of arousal surged through you.

A small grin you recognized twisted the corners of Estinien’s lips. That same smile you knew from your training sessions, that telltale sign he was pleased with you. “Then why mince more words?” It seemed so simple when he put it like that.

You couldn’t suppress a flustered huff, a new rush of warmth heating your cheeks. “Because… because I- ah, to hells with it!”

You threw your hands up, as if at wit’s end, and moved toward Estinien, still settled on the rock and bark. Estinien was right, no more words were necessary. Their time was past, and anything else would only make your situation messier. Now it was time to listen to the mutual need burning in your blood and thrum of your bodies.

You half-expected Estinien to balk when you reached out, grabbing his head in your hands and leaning to claim his lips in a ravenous kiss. But he was unbothered, pushing back into the kiss in a manner that was equally searing and intense. You invited onto his lap, the reminder of his arousal pressing at you through the leather of your chausses. Estinien ensnared your waist, pulling you tighter to him.

Part of you wondered if fucking your combat instructor would make things awkward later. Though a much greater part had no concert for something so seemingly trivial. Yet another part was curious if this had been the first time Estinien had gone out to masturbate. Or was the reason that Estinien went off alone after each and every training session that the sparring worked him up so much he needed to take care of things immediately?

Perhaps you should have gone looking for him sooner during your trip.

[apexqueenie]

Hi sweet! Welcome to Tumblr ❤️ I was wondering if you could do a Bakugou x reader, where the read is quirk-less and hides it from him, then he finds out and angsty stuff happens, but it ends in fluff. Feel free to change bits ❤️

Yasssssssss sorry this took so long!!! I recently took a trip to Oregon and couldn’t write as efficiently as I wanted to, please enjoy!!!

The Bitchy Couple (Bakugou x Quirkless Reader)

Warnings: swearing (duh)

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You remember the first time Bakugou laid eyes on you. It almost felt like it was yesterday. He tried to kill you then.

You roamed the middle school grounds, looking for someone to hang out with during lunch. The latest pop music blared in your eardrums as you lost yourself in your imagination, pretending you were in a music video or something. You were so lost in thought that you didn’t even see the three people that were headed your direction, equally distracted. The one in front was walking backwards, spouting loud nonsense to the two. He had no idea that you two were on a collision course straight for each other until BAM, your face collided into his shoulder blades.

“HEY, WHAT THE FUCK YOU NERD?” he turned around and yelled

Annoyed, you readjusted your headphones and scoffed. “You were the one walking backwards asshole, and you’ve got 2 goonies who coulda warned you, but I guess all you were too stupid!” You spat, walking off.

Back then, you were the only one who threw his shitty attitude right back at him. Bakugou didn’t wanna admit it, but he respected someone who could fight his fire with fire. Screw bullying the lower classmen, they weren’t as entertaining after a while. Besides, he found a new hobby, and it was to outdo you.

Almost every day, your conversations would end up something like this:

“Hey you wench, where’d you get those shitty headphones?”

“Up your mom’s ass, dickhead”

“Oh yeah? At least she has an ass. It looks like your back just extends to your legs”

Then, it escalated more into:

“Suck my dick, Bakubitch”

“How bout u suck mine? I’ve prolly got a bigger one anyways!”

“Nah, I know you’ve choked on waaaaaaaaaay more dick”

-And it got to the point that people were taking bets on who won the insult fest that day. In your school, you two were a famous duo, often being referred to as “the bitchy couple”, well, at least to the outsiders.

Away from the eyes of your classmates, Bakugou was a little more...sweet? You weren’t really sure what to call it, but it was a side of him that wasn’t always angry, someone who didn’t feel like he had to put on a show all the time. You worked hard to uncover that side of him, and damn were you proud. You did nearly everything to annoy him at first: telling everyone his most embarrassing secrets during lunch, purposely pairing with him during class projects- you even got your mom to contact his mom so they can arrange “study sessions” for you two. In return, he’d send the most embarrassing pictures of you to guys who asked you out, steal the shoes out of your locker so you’d walk to class with smelly feet, and blew up your jacket a couple of times during the winter. Eventually though, when the two of you walked home together alone and away from your audience, he’d lend you his jacket, promising to buy you a new one to replace the one he destroyed. During those class projects, you’d pour your all into obtaining a good grade when no one was looking. Underneath the mask that the two of you showed everyone, you guys were almost a couple.

Almost.

“Baka-gouuuuu” you hummed.

“What?”

You pouted your lips at him, earning yourself an aggravated blush from the gremlin.

“Disgusting” he said, “come to UA with me”

“Haha- wait what?” You stopped, completely baffled, “you want me to WHAT?”

Bakugou scoffed, not meeting your eyes. “You heard what I said.”

You scanned his face, looking for any sign of sarcasm or jokes...anything-but no, he was dead serious. That was completely out of character for him, even you were amazed at how sudden his behavior flipped. You looked down, thoughts spinning in your head as you processed the question. You were nervous, but why? He asked you to go with him, THE Bakugou asked you to apply at the same school when he basically bullied half the rest of the school out of even THINKING about it, so why aren’t you excited?

“Hero course” he said, and pointed to himself, “like me”

Then it clicked in your head, not once in the entire time the both of you had together did you ever show off your quirk like he did. Even when he’d challenge you, you’d always end up saying something like, “I don’t need a stupid quirk to make you cry like a little baby”. He’d think nothing of it and continue squabbling with you. No one, not even your own mother has ever outright told him you were quirkless. Maybe part of you was scared of what his reaction will be, judging from the way he treats Deku. Maybe some of it was shame from being a part of the minority in the world. You didn’t really know, and it was just something you never really wanted to find time for. Now, all that laziness was coming right back to bite you in the ass.

“Bakugou, I don’t really-“

“I’m gonna need someone to bully at UA...other than shitty Deku” he said, but his eyes told you what he really wanted. He wanted someone loyal, someone who would stick around through all his bullshit when no one else would. Even his goons were intimidated out of applying at UA. There wasn’t anyone left to compete against and keep Bakugou grounded except for, well, you.

You sighed, wondering how you were going to explain this to him.

“(Y/n)-“ he started again.

But you were faster, “I can’t apply to the hero course, Bakugou.”

He looked at you, confusion written all over his face. “What? Why?”

You looked down, averting his gaze. “Uhm, because... I can’t be a hero without a quirk, can I?” You say quietly.

It seemed like the world just stopped the moment those words left your mouth. The wind stopped shaking the leaves of the trees around you and Bakugou just...froze. You stayed silent, letting him take it all in.

His mouth moved as if he wanted to say something, but he turned away instead, muttering something under his breath that you couldn’t quite hear.

“Baku, I can’t hear you.”

He turned around, rage in his eyes. He spoke low and aggressive, sending shivers down your spine, “so you were just a quirkless nerd this whole time? Did you hear me that time you little bitch?” He took a step towards you, towering over your smaller frame. You stumbled backwards and almost lost your footing, fear rushing through your veins. You were well aware of what Bakugou could do, but you never thought that you’d be on the receiving end. Is this what Bakugou was like as a true bully?

Bakugou scoffed at your reaction and continued advancing in your direction, “How noble of you, following me around and wasting time with pathetic insults when I could’ve been training. Do you feel proud of yourself? DO YOU?”

You were shocked. He hasn't talked to you like that before. Not like this. Tears threatened to start forming at your eyes, flushing your face red. Bakugou blinked, realizing what he just said. Deep down, he felt awful from the very first sentence, but his ego wouldn’t let him apologize. He turned around and walked on home, leaving you silently crying where he left you.

He nearly broke the hinges of the door off when he got home, ignoring his mother’s yells and climbing up to his room. He cursed over and over again, fighting his conscience and his ego at the same time. Dammit, he was supposed to be fighting villains, not his own head! On one hand, he just couldn’t believe that you would tolerate him calling quirkless people pieces of shit, but on the other hand, he thought maybe it was his fault for making you feel unwelcome at the topic. Either way, he wasn’t sure what to be angry about, so he got angry at everything.

“aaauuAAAAAGH” he yelled in frustration, as he slams his body down onto his bed. What the hell was he supposed to do now? You probably-no, DEFINITELY didn’t want anything to do with him by now. Still, he just couldn’t help but feel bad. It was gnawing at his chest relentlessly, urging him to go back and make things right, and that was exactly what he was gonna do.

“KATSUKI!!! WHY IS IT SO DAMN COLD IN THE HOUSE?” Mama Bakugou yelled. She waited for an angry response, but heard nothing. She walked up the stairs, expecting her son to have passed out already, but was instead greeted with an empty room...and an open window. “Stupid kid,” she scowled, “coulda walked out the front door ya know, or at least close the damn window.”

***

Bakugou didn’t break a sweat running to your house, but he panted hard. His mind was jam packed with the things he wanted to say to you, he just had to find the courage to say it. Hah, Bakugou Katsuki... afraid of something? That was a first. He climbed the side of your fence up along a pipe, just like he’s done a million times before. He’d come and leave before your mom could smother him with her home cooking and conversations about arranging a marriage between you and him. It honestly became a little too overwhelming, and he’d just sneak in and out whenever he’d have to tutor you on something.

He pulled the window open and slipped in only to find a lamp being swung at his face. He dodged nimbly and stopped your second swing with one hand, ripping the lamp out of your hands before you could try again. You turned around and grabbed a book off your desk, yeeting it at his face before kicking his stomach. The lamp made a thump as it landed on the floor, Bakugou now occupied with the gigantic math book. You frantically looked for something else to throw, knowing he recovered quickly in combat. Your eyes landed on a half eaten pork bun on your bedside dresser and you quickly lunged at it, managing to hit Bakugou’s forehead before he could see it coming.

“God DAMMIT stop tryna hit me with shit!” He yelled, shoving you on to your bed.

You staggered a bit before falling and growled in anger, “you have some fuckin nerve coming back here after what you said!” You yelled back.

“Honey what’s going on?” Your mother called, opening the door. You two were so caught up in arguing that you didn’t realize how much noise it was making...or the footsteps coming upstairs. Your mom gasped as she saw what happened. You lying on the bed, hair messy, shirt a bit ruffled...Bakugou standing over you just OOZING dominance...oh yeah, she got the picture. The WRONG picture.

She blushed bright pink, “oh uh, hi Katsuki, be careful you guys ok?!?! Okbyedontforfettouseprotection!” She said before slamming the door closed in a hurry and climbing down the stairs.

“MOM WAIT NO IT'S NOT LIKE THATUUUUUUUUUGH” you yelled and plopped your face into your hands. You weren’t even angry anymore at Bakugou, just frustrated.

You sighed, lifting your face from your hands and stared into empty space. Bakugou took the empty spot next to you, looking at the ground. There was a long and awkward silence between the two of you. Painfully long. Bakugou eventually sighed, making a move to break the extremely thick ice.

“I didn’t really mean what I said, (y/n)-“ he started.

“Then why did you say it?” You snarled.

Bakugou looked up at you, then back at the ground, fiddling with the fabric of his pants. “I was just, I dunno, angry at myself ok? Fuck off, wait no don’t fuck off, I...” he shook his head and took a big huff of air. Admitting his own wrongs wasn’t his forte, but it was definitely entertaining. You resisted the urge to smile a bit. He didn’t deserve that yet, not until he apologized. “I was just angry cuz...cuz I thought only people with quirks could be strong. But then you showed up and I thought you were probably the third strongest person I’ve ever met-“

“Third?” You cocked an eyebrow.

“After All Might, then me” he said, furrowing his eyebrows, “anyways, back to the point, look, I’m just sorry, for everything and I guess I shouldn’t have said that. I got upset at the fact that...I can’t beat your ass in hero course now. I can’t do projects with you anymore. And plus, if you aren’t going to UA anymore then-“

Bakugou was interrupted once again when you sat up, walked over to your desk, and dug through your drawer. You pulled a few pieces out before finding the one you wanted, then proceeded to wave it in the gremlin’s face.

“Who said I wasn’t going to UA?” You said, watching as his face just stared at the paper in awe.

“You’re enrolling in support?!” He yelled, taking the paper out of your hand.

“Yep” you said, giving him a small smile.

Bakugou lowered the paper and hung his head, “(y/n), I wouldn’t blame you if you never wanted to see me again.”

You sat back down and scooted over to lean on his shoulder, something he’d only ever let you do in private. “It’s ok Bakagou, I know you were only scared of losing me to some quirkless job like accounting or-“

“SHUT THE FUCK UP IM NOT SCARED OF WIMPY SHIT LIKE THAT” he yelled, a small and almost unnoticeable blush appearing on his face.

You giggled, “sure whatever, look, I won’t be able to fight villains with you, but I can help you fight villains better by making support items for you. So I guess...that kinda makes me the hero behind the hero huh?” You smiled.

Bakugou scoffed, “Heh whatever, you better make me the best fuckin support items out of anyone there cuz I’m gonna need em to be number one, understand?!”

You scoffed back, “Number one my ass, maybe third place at the MOST.”

He growled as he whacked you with a pillow, making you shriek with delight. High school with this angry gremlin was gonna be interesting.

[luvlyrv]

Our Songs | pt. 5 | Wendy x f!Reader sm!au

Summary: You and Wendy are rising musicians who are garnering attention. As the both of you decide to begin working on writing songs together, will you catch each other's attention too?

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: This was the ONLY thing I have saved from when I lost all of my writing because I already transferred into my tumblr drafts! I just had to do some editing today, but yeah it was basically finished a month ago now... I’m so sorry it’s taken so long to update this series.

Date: 1/12/21 (written)

Series Masterlist

You're at Wendy's place like you promised and ring the doorbell. Quickly, you hear footsteps and watch as the door swings open to see an excited Wendy. She opens up her arms and you give each other a warm hug.

You enter her house, and it's a cozy sight. It was a modest house with warm colors on the wall and matching colored furniture. Then, you notice a sweet and chocolatey smell coming from what you assumed was the kitchen. You can't help but to begin cracking open a smile as you look at Wendy.

"Did you make something just for me?"

Wendy smiles back at you and gently pushes your shoulder.

"Of course I did, silly. I told you I'd pay you back properly."

Wendy takes your hand and you shyly follower her into her kitchen. There she had dinner laid out as well as some brownies and cookies that she had freshly baked. You could feel your mouth watering at the sight.

"Well I be damned, you might be a better chef than me."

Wendy laughs at your comment before trying to be modest.

"Hey, you probably do a lot more cooking than I do. I prefer baking over cooking proper meals."

"But seriously… this all looks so good. Let's take a picture together and post it! I want people to know!"

"Know what?" Wendy asks you while laughing a little bit at your bubbling excitement.

"That the great Wendy went through all of this effort just for me." You gush.

You pull Wendy close to you and grab your phone. The close proximity making Wendy panic just a bit. She calms herself down though as you position the both of you in front of the food, taking a picture and uploading it on Twitter. The both of you are smiling happily and you decided to just tweet a ":D" with the photo. Wendy retweets it before the both of you sit down and eat dinner together.

Occasionally though, the both of you check Twitter to see everyone's responses. Reading the replies aloud to each other, the both of you feel happy to see fans happy about your blossoming friendship.

"I'm really happy that Seulgi pushed me to do this collaboration with you." You confess to Wendy with a smile. She nods her head in agreement.

"I think I'm really lucky to meet a person as cool and genuine as you."

It was a heartfelt moment to be acknowledging the enjoyment the both of you received from each other's presence. The both of you continued reading replies, most of them spurring the two of you to continue complimenting each other. Although… there were some replies that warranted a different response. After laughing at a previous comment, Wendy began reading a different one.

"Oh look, this person says that you and I would… make a good couple." Wendy says, all of a sudden rubbing her neck and looking bashful. You watch her as she says this and feel equally as embarrassed. You tried to steer the conversation in a different direction.

"I mean, how would they know right? It's just been some banter and one picture of us together." Wow. Real smooth there.

The two of you decide to go about dinner without anymore Twitter, and time once again slips by as you're both engrossed in conversing with each other.

After you both finished dinner, Wendy began microwaving some popcorn and had you sit on the couch. She pulls up Netflix on the TV as sits with a large, warm bowl of popcorn in her lap and you reaching for popcorn to put in your mouth.

"What do you wanna watch?" She asks you.

"Anything you wanna watch, it's up to you." You shrug in response.

"You know, I really hate indecisive people." She teases you.

In the end though, Wendy chose a random and a bit unknown romcom to watch with you. To be honest though, it was kind of a bad movie, leading you to slowly drift away into sleep. Although you found the movie boring, Wendy was a sucker for romance, a sucker for comedy, and especially a sucker for what were seen as cheap and bad movies. She was totally engrossed.

When you first started watching the movie with Wendy, you guys were already sitting next to each other. By the time you fell asleep though, the already small gap between the two of you was completely closed. When Wendy stopped paying attention to the moving and turned her head over to gage your reaction. She was shocked to see that instead of sitting there, watching the movie with her, your head had found its way onto her shoulder.

She bit back a smile while looking down on you. Thoughts about how cute you looked began to creep into her mind, but she pushed them away. She sets the bowl of popcorn down and carefully moved out of your way. Quietly, she makes her way to her bedroom and picks out a blanket for you to use. She returns to your sleeping form and lays it across your body to keep you warm.

"Goodnight, Y/N." She whispers. She begins to walk out of the living room and back into her room.

As Wendy does this though, your eyes flutter open just a little bit. You watch as Wendy slowly leaves the room. You don't bother calling out to her or getting up. Your face heats up in embarrassment at the thought of you dozing off in front of Wendy so easily like that. You feel a strange fuzziness in your stomach as you bask in the smell of the blanket though. It smelled of Wendy, and something about it seemed so intoxicating to you. Quickly, you drift back to sleep again.

The sun has risen and so has your body. When your eyes opened you took in the sight of the living room, a sight much different from the bedroom you'd usually be greeted with. Conveniently, Wendy had begun waking up herself around the same time. You hear a soft click from her bedroom door as she opens it, walking into the living room. Rubbing her eyes she catches you awake and smiles. Before she can say anything though, you wanted to thank her.

"Thanks for the blanket, and sorry for falling asleep so suddenly… I'm sure the movie was great." You laugh towards the end, knowing the it most definitely wasn't if the beginning of the movie had anything to say.

"No problem. You know, hanging out with you is really fun." Wendy admits.

"I'm glad you think that." You said quietly.

The both of you decide to just have cereal for breakfast, and once again you find yourselves talking.

"Mmm," you begin saying while in a middle of a bite. You swallow first and then continue talking. "Hey, I just realized we haven't exchanged numbers at all!"

Wendy takes a second to think.

"I guess we really haven't."

"How about you give me your number?"

"Is this your way of hitting on me?"

"No no no, really I just want your number." You shake your head at her. Wendy giggles a bit and you exchange numbers.

"Besides giving me your number, you know what else we should do? We should make a video together to keep building up the hype for our EP." You tell Wendy, and her face seems to beam with intrigue at the idea.

"That sounds really cool, your place or my place?"

"How about we do one at both of our places and post it on our different YouTube channels?"

"Yeah, what would we do though?" Wendy asks for clarification.

"How about…" You think for a second. "How about we can do one where we sing a duet and then another were we just ask some prompt questions?"

Wendy agrees with your proposal. Soon enough though, you feel like it's time to go. Before you get to open Wendy's door to leave though, she hugs you from the back.

"Thanks for coming over, Y/N." Wendy speaks into your back.

She doesn't see it, but you feel your face heat up again.

"Anytime, like you said, hanging out with you is fun."

You say your goodbyes and head back home.

[vydante]

Restart | 12

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Avengers x Male! Reader (romantically: multiple)

A/N: Missed y'all. I don't think I'm officially off of my hiatus, but I somehow managed to pull a chapter out of my ass after months of radio silence. I really did back myself into a corner with the last chapter, but hey, this is my story and I get to pace it however I want.

Sorry if things are worded weirdly, I'm writing them but they're going through one ear and out the other when it comes to comprehending what I actually wrote. No one will remember what happened, but that's okay. God, I really need a beta-reader... Anyways. Love y'all. XOXO.

Also, sorry if any of the formattings seems off. HTML doesn't really translate well over certain sites. (Tumblr, Quotev, Wattpad, and AO3 are now my main places for posting my works. Anywhere else, that's not me nor was it permitted by me.)

If you want a recap: You're in the process of jumpstarting Project Renaissance after realizing that you've just been doing basically nothing ever since you woke up in your old body. You've also taken to making video logs to report down your progress, and in the last chapter (that was in the POV of multiple video logs), it ended on a cliffhanger with Barnes being discovered and moved to a safe house.

This chapter takes place roughly after the last one. 

If you're currently binge reading this story, this recap is only because last chapter was updated... Roughly more than 7 months before this chapter. So. Yeah. :D

Oh, and let's pretend that either A. Barnes doesn't have a tracking chip in his arm OR B. he did, but you got it out during the whole rescue-escapade. That's my bad, I straight up forgot about that possibility until I was like, close to 4000 words deep into this chapter. Now we're at roughly 8k+... Hehe. Whoops.

_______

You're not gonna call Barnes, Bucky.

There's a personal touch to the nickname that bothers you. How awful it sounds in your ears, to call the former husk of a man a name he no longer recognizes. There's history to that name, both on writing and in memory, though only in sparsity. Plus, it'll be difficult for you to associate Bucky to Barnes. A man with an identity to a man without.

So after the whole debacle of getting him out of the mini-Hulk playbox and into decent dry clothing, when he asks what his name is, you quietly debated to yourself what to tell him.

"... Your name is James Buchanan Barnes," you'd eventually reply.

He doesn't comment on the resignation in your tone, but you're confident that he certainly noticed it- surely, the ticks of being the Winter Soldier was still there, no matter how disoriented he must be. But whether courtesy was something that he hadn't forgotten whilst his brain was refried over and over like leftover KFC wings or he was simply too exhausted to ask, you didn't care.

Granted, for a man who should have a lot of questions on his mind, he's definitely proven himself to be a man of very few words.

An hour goes by, and in the midst of you trying your best to build a solid standing between the two of you, he's said so few words that you could probably count all of them on both of your hands.

If it weren't for the nods of affirmation, you'd think that his averted gaze from you would have meant that he wasn't paying attention at all, but honestly, you knew better than to judge him for that if he actually wasn't actually listening in the first place.

Hell, he could tear up the walls to the high heavens and you still wouldn't hold him against it, so you were just thankful that he was so docile, for someone who could snap your neck if he felt so inclined.

Though, as it turns out confusion and disorientation wasn't the actual reason why he was being so docile, you belatedly realize as you're stood in front of a blank-faced Barnes. You're in the middle of trying to give him a basic tour around the house when he quietly interrupted your monologuing.

"Mission parameters," you echoed his words, though mainly to yourself. He nods, and for once meets your eyes. There's neither confidence nor surrender in his eyes, and that makes your stomach churn. Chances are, he probably saw nothing wrong with asking such a thing.

"You want me to give you- mission parameters. Like- like your handlers would?" You laughed incredulously, but the humor was replaced with subdued hysterical horror.

You were aware of what they were. Aware of the types of hunts his Handlers- bastards- would sick him out on. Aware of what he did without a second thought. You saw those files, if only briefly. That was more than enough for you to see the type of expectations that came alongside "mission parameters".

He nods as if you were stating the obvious.

God.

You opened and closed your mouth, and for a split second, once you got past the horror of being asked to tell him what to do, a subtle realization crawled up your spine. In the midst of your impromptu introduction and briefing, you never really made a distinction as to what role you were supposed to play in all of this.

So it shouldn't be a surprise for Barnes to assume that you're his new- what? Handler? Caretaker? After all, as far as you can assume, that's probably all he knows; all he was conditioned to grow accustomed to, to expect his every move to be dictated by some outsider with no care to the wants or needs that Barnes has.

(Hell, if you were to make a reach right now, maybe Barnes thinks he doesn't have wants or needs. That he shouldn't.)

(In the background, a part of you simmer in silence.)

With your jaw clenched, you make an effort to make your voice as even as can be when you ask him, "You don't need mission parameters, Barnes. You're your own free man. You can- can make decisions on your own. You don't need me to tell you what you need to do."

Pray as you might, there's something about realizing that you said the wrong thing right after saying said words that make you wonder what you did to anger the higher powers that be to put yourself in the situation you're in right now.

Barnes doesn't say anything, but his eyes says it all. Confusion. Realization. Grief. Detachment. His metal hand clenches, and you're man enough to admit that it made your heart stutter in fear.

"I...", he mutters, "... don't understand."

You swallowed.

This...

This is gonna be tough.

_______

It's difficult to explain what self-autonomy and freedom meant to a man who is only capable of remembering being chained and held on a leash like a rabid dog.

Thankfully, it was your winter break, so you had a manageable excuse for being away from "home" for a few days, but you only had so long to try and establish to Barnes that you're not going to be able to be there with him as often as you are now (and even then, the time frame was too small to even make any sense of attachment).

You knew for sure you couldn't always be there for Barnes, so one thing was certain: he had to meet DAHLIA. And thankfully, since the whole safe house was yours, not even your father knew that DAHLIA, your own A.I., would be uploaded into the houses' built-in hardware.

(While the hardware was built with the intention of housing J.A.R.V.I.S. there as a standard, he ended up "moving out" the moment that the house became yours. Something about "not intruding on a teenager's privacy", but you're more than thankful for Tony's afterthought, even if you did end up taking slight advantage of his consideration.)

And surprisingly enough, Barnes wasn't really bothered by the concept of DAHLIA as much as you had initially expected. Of course, he didn't really talk to her, but it wasn't like he talked much in the first place.

(On a side note, it looks like DAHLIA seems to like the house, all things considered... So there's that.)

(The original DAHLIA was never installed here, instead she ended up "living" in a retirement house of sorts in a wooded area of New York. She never said anything about the house, so it's... Kind of endearing, to see that she actually might prefer this house instead. And mildly insulting, considering you personally decorated the other house.)

You ended up spending nearly the whole night trying to establish even the most basic of guidelines: use the bathroom whenever he needed to (you initially said phrased it as "wanted", but he promptly cut you off saying "The Asset does not have wants," which, rude, but also sad); whatever is in the kitchen is available for him to eat whenever, where ever; basic hygiene; and the most important one- if he had any questions, his first source would be you. And on the off-chance that you're not available, DAHLIA is always online and ready to help.

He gave a tentative nod, but you're somehow not confident that he might have interpreted it wrong. You're hoping he doesn't do anything to prove you right.

"Alright. So. Any questions?"

He stares at you for a beat too long before shaking his head.

He's still giving non-verbal answers for the most part, but it's better than nothing. You internally sighed and motioned him to follow you deeper into the safe house.

Considering that it was already pretty late by the time you managed to beat those guidelines into his head (maybe that should be worded better, but you never claimed to be a lyricist; it is what it is), he might be just as tired as you are from how long the day has been.

(Granted, this dude has been "asleep" for who knows how long, but it's the thought that counts.)

"You know where I'm taking you to?" you asked, not really expecting an answer from him.

"No," he responds from behind you. Color you surprised.

You turned into the hallway and stepped up to an unassuming door. You opened it to reveal an equally unassuming bedroom. Muted colors, modern design; it reeked Pepper's doing, knowing that Tony isn't as decoratively-inclined as she is.

Hah, bet she didn't expect that instead of housing you or your dad, it'll go to a super-solder that wasn't Steve instead.

(Not that Steve would ever have a reason to step foot in here, but in this line of work, you'd be stupid to be 100% sure about something.)

You motioned him to come into the room and tilted your head to the bed.

"This is your bedroom, pretty much where you'll be sleeping. There's a bathroom right over there," you motioned to the door adjacent to the entrance door, "and I'll be in the room right next to yours."

Barnes takes a second to process it all, and with a quick scan of the room with calculating eyes, he nods. You absentmindedly scratched the back of your neck.

"I mean, there's plenty of rooms here so if you don't like this one, just let me know and we'll probably move you to another room-" you rambled, secretly trying to get a move on so you'd finally get some shut-eye.

(What? You're not perfect, sleep is heavily slept on in this day and age. Hah.)

(God, you're definitely going to hell.)

"-and you know how to use a toilet, right?"

The raised eyebrow pointed at you definitely proves that that was a pretty stupid question, but hey, you can't take any chances. You shrugged, a tired smirk threatening to form on your lips.

"Well then. Can I leave it to you to settle down for the night, or...?" you left it open-ended.

He didn't say anything in response, only stared at the bed in front of him. There was a pregnant pause, but he nodded at you. There was a strange tilt to his eyes, but you didn't bother to think further into it as you were just thankful that you could finally rest.

"Well then, good night Barnes. I'll come by tomorrow morning and we'll continue to, er," you thought about it, "work, on your situation."

You made a swift exit out of his room and immediately into "your" room, which was literally right next to his. You immediately discarded your clothes and with a brisk shower and teeth brushing, you promptly dropped straight onto the bed with an audible grunt, wet hair soaking straight into the pillow.

Pulling the plush duvet to cover your body, you reached for your phone to check for any messages you might have gotten.

(3 from Tony; he asked where you were. You told him that you're staying at a safe house and that you needed a small break. It wasn't wrong, but definitely an omission of truth. A few days would be fine, right?)

(2 from Rhodey; it's a picture of a Goodwill's, and there's a silhouette in a nearby window of some guy. "This you?" he asks. "No ❤️," you sent back.)

(63 is from the group chat that the Avengers are in- ah, make that 64 and counting. It's just a bunch of nonsense from what you can gather, but you briefly scrolled through it anyways.)

Turning your phone off, you smushed your face into the pillow and sighed, a terrible knot forming at the pit of your stomach. With an open ear, you tried to hear any noise that could come from Barnes' room, but considering that the walls were reinforced and he was already quiet as it is, all you could hear was the AC running in the background.

"DAHLIA," you huffed, eyes drooping, "keep an eye on him, wake me up if anything happens."

"Got it," her voice echoes from the ceiling speakers.

You quietly tucked yourself in bed. As the exhaustion finally started settling in your body, the last thought that lingered in your head was "Man, I hope nothing bad happens tomorrow," before you drifted right off to dreamless slumber.

_______

The next day was, to say the least, a little disconcerting, but a bigger improvement to be sure.

Right after waking up, you begrudgingly put on some daytime appropriate clothes and stepped out into the hallway. You knocked on the door that was right next to yours, and gingerly opened it when you didn't hear much of a response.

"Good morning," you tentatively greeted. Barnes was sitting at the foot of the bed when you knocked on his door. He mumbled back a greeting and stands up to your eye level.

His clothes are still the same from last night, and judging by the clean state of his bed, he either woke up earlier than you expected or he was sat like that the whole night.

You're not too keen on finding out which was the case, but you had to.

"Sleep well?"

You stepped out of the doorway and motioned him to follow you. Briefly glancing down at your phone to see just a few messages waiting for you, you opted to ignore them for now.

"I slept."

He quietly stated from behind you. He avoided saying if he slept well or not, but at least the damn Terminator slept. You mentally deflated a little; the bar was set so low for him, you're not too sure who it's more insulting to- you or him.

(Of course, it's to him, that shouldn't be a question. Your feelings don't matter.)

"We're gonna have to wing this a little, but uh, here's the general gist of what's gonna happen."

Stepping into the kitchen, you're taken aback to last night as he tentatively stands across from you from the kitchen island. Really, you'd opt to go to the living room, but you both radiate too much nervous energy to really sit.

You opened the refrigerator and sighed when all that greeted you was water and non-perishables. Right. You just got here, it's not like there's gonna be freshly stocked food in here 24/7.

"DAHLIA, order some fresh food and get it delivered today. Charge it on my debit," you mumbled quietly.

DAHLIA doesn't say anything, but the refrigerator lights flicker a familiar green hue that keys you in that she heard you. You raised an impressed eyebrow; what an unnecessary feature for a refrigerator to have. You closed the door and turned around to face Barnes.

"I'm here to serve as, say, a guide for," you gestured to him, "your... rehabilitation, of sorts."

"For now, I can't really offer any... Professional help, on a technical level. I'm not- that's not my area of expertise. I'm an engineer at heart," actually, you really liked other things more than being an engineer, but your fate of becoming the CEO of SI was sealed the moment you decided to live with your dad, "so we're going to have to make a compromise on that."

You shook your head.

"If you were anyone else, I'd point you to a shrink," Barnes gives you a confused stare.

"Therapist," you clarified. He nods.

"But quite frankly," Zemo's face flashes in your memory, "I don't trust anyone to properly... Well, I don't trust anyone when it comes to the mental health of you, and the Avengers too, of course."

Pausing mid-rant, you raised an eyebrow at him.

"You... do know who the Avengers are, right?"

He nods and begins to rattle off a pre-scripted monologue. His eyes are blank as he started speaking.

"A group of top priority, compromised of highly skilled individuals, enhanced or otherwise specified. Threat priority ranges from 5 to 9. As of now, 6 active-duty members and 1 reserve member. The Asset is to not engage under any circumstance and reveal-"

"Alright alright, I get it- that's," you're a little offended that you're considered a "reserve member", but that's not technically wrong, "That's a lot to unpack there, but yeah. You- whew, you definitely know who the- we are."

(You've gotten into the habit of distancing yourself from the Avengers the moment that you had become CEO. You're still working on that, but the word "we" still feels wrong on your tongue.)

There's a little more life that came back to Barnes' eyes after you had snapped him out of it, and it's a bit surreal knowing that Barnes just kinda... runs on autopilot when prompted. The image of Barnes being strapped down in a chair and forced to learn and recite those kinds of things by heart is both horrifying and a little funny.

(Do you think they had a set curriculum he had to learn by?)

"So yeah. The Avengers gotta be careful when lookin' for shrinks, and so do you. There's just too many factors that go into gettin' a personal therapist. So for now," you shrugged, "you're stuck with me."

"What are they?"

"Hm?"

"The factors."

You shrugged.

"Well, for starters, you're- you were, HYDRA's prisoner," the muscle around his jaw visibly clenches when you mentioned HYDRA, but you powered through, "so they'll definitely be interested in getting their fight dog back. They're good at blending in and good at getting their musty little fingers into every nook and cranny. I wouldn't put it past them to have one of their agents go undercover as a therapist for hire. So that's one factor: trying to discern who is and isn't HYDRA."

You raised a finger.

"Then there's the fact that because you're such a... shall we say, top priority, er, asset," that word runs bitter on your tongue, "even if your shrink isn't HYDRA, they'll definitely be targeted by HYDRA if it ever came to light that they have a direct link to you. So there's reason number two: loose ends, and the risks that come with it."

You raised another finger. By now, Barnes has a hard but contemplative curl to his lips.

"And then not to mention how unique your case it. Barnes, you've been a POW for decades. Your brain- no offense buddy, but from what I can tell, it's been fried to hell and back. I don't even have to do any fancy brain scans to know. And that's not even including all the other stuff they probably did to you, only God knows."

You shook your head.

"There's too much at risk for you to get proper therapy right now. But. It's not impossible."

You think back to Shuri, and how she and the other Wakandan scientists were successful in both removing the trigger words and rehabilitating Barnes.

Well, you're not sure about the last part, since you never interacted with the Barnes of your time, but you'd assume that they did help with his subsequent mental health. You wouldn't really put it past them- T'Challa was a nice guy, from your limited interactions with him way into the future, and Shuri was buzzing with ideas and energy. If T'Challa's sympathy for Barnes wasn't enough, then Shuri's crave to help and experiment would supplement the balance plenty. Vice versa, too.

So yeah, future-Barnes' mental health was most likely addressed during his time in Wakanda. And it was almost guaranteed to have been a success.

So you're still gonna hold a torch for the possibility that Barnes' can come out of this as a relatively well-adjusted guy.

Not to mention B.A.R.F. As far as you know, the R&D team assigned to that was still progressing smoothly, but the only downside to that was that it wasn't going to be until a few more years before it's "perfected".

You were never really involved in any way with B.A.R.F. since you were both prepping for SI and finishing college. Your dad was definitely more involved in it than you were, but it's not like you could ask him to pull a few year's worths of experimentation and knowledge out of his ass and exponentially boost the rate of B.A.R.F.'s progress, so.

Helen Cho suddenly sprang to mind, but you quickly threw away that thought. Your- well, Barnes'- issue was neurological, Cho was all about cell regeneration and is a geneticist. So unless somehow the issue crosses over with Cho's line of work, she wasn't a possibility either. There was also Strange, but as far as you've heard the man was pretty... abrasive, even as a wizard. Hard to get a hold of, and very... Hard-headed.

Well, all of that was second hand since it came from Tony, but still. Maybe you could pull Tony in for some clout, but that'll just make him suspicious. God, maybe you shouldn't have kept the whole "I'm actually from the future" spiel a secret, otherwise you wouldn't have to be doing all this crap alone.

Oh well. In for a penny, out for a pound.

You sighed, already feeling the dull thump against your skull starting to form.

"So what now?" Barnes asks. He's less tentative than he was last night, but still soft-spoken when he talks.

"Well, you're stuck with me, bud. I'll do my best to get you prepped for the actual rehabilitation, but honestly, that might take a little longer than you'd expect. So, we'll just- well."

You eyed the outfit he was donning, which was literally your clothes- so it was a few sizes too small for him. He doesn't really seem bothered by it, and if it weren't for the fact that he's sort of proved himself to be neglectful of voicing his own preferences, you'd be a little more inclined to appreciate the view of one very, very beefy super-soldier.

But alas.

Life never really works in your favor, so.

"We'll need to get a few essential things out of the way. Food is already on its way, I assume you aren't allergic to anything?"

He pauses, and there goes that familiar glaze forming over his eyes. You sigh, knowing that he was probably searching through his mental "data-bases" for any allergies, but thankfully it's not long as he blinks back into attention.

"None."

"Yeah, I could'a figured, what with your super-soldier serum."

(You're pretty sure that also makes him immune to cancer, but maybe that's just you glorifying it.)

"So: the food situation is cleared. Now, we need to get you some new clothes because, uh, those don't look very comfortable."

"Comfort does not matter. I am adequately dressed."

You snorted. Maybe it's better that you don't tell Barnes that he's wearing a Sharknado tee and some sweats that have "Eat this!" printed on his behind.

(And maybe it's better that you didn't remember that yes, these are indeed still your clothes.)

"Comfort does matter, my guy. DAHLIA, take some quick measurements."

The kitchen light dims and brightens, shining lime green into the kitchen. It lingers and turns back into that white-blue that sometimes makes your eyes burn when you've been up for too late into the night.

"Seargent Barnes' measurements are now on file. You two want to see the available catalog?"

Right where the kitchen island was, a panel opens up to reveal a hologram of a bunch of articles of clothing, all of which has been adjusted to Barnes' size- or an approximate at least, since there's some that's labeled X or XL.

"Barnes? You got anything you want to do right now or...?"

You gestured to the hologram in front of you.

His face contorts a little, not too noticeable at a quick glance. He doesn't look uncomfortable per se, but judging by the downwards curl of his lips, he's definitely not excited to see the hologram.

You flicked your wrist and it disappeared just as quick as it appeared. Strangely enough, his expression doesn't loosen up as his eyes flicker upwards to yours.

"Hey, that's okay. If it's the hologram, that's no biggie, we'll just move over to the, uh, TV in the next room over. C'mon."

You jerked your head and motioned him to follow you. His face laxes and he walks behind you without a word.

_______

You two ended up getting a lot done all things considered.

Barnes seemed pretty bothered by how many clothing choices there are, but when you asked if he wanted you to just curate a list for him, he easily relented. He was hovering over you the whole time, but you weren't too bothered by it as you were too busy browsing for him.

You went from site to site searching for clothes that screamed "The Winter Soldier", but all that was coming up was clothes in fifty shades of black and with no pizzaz. You did pass by a few Avengers-related merch (especially yours), but he said nothing when you added two or three into your cart, so he probably doesn't care. You did show him a lot of clothes that you thought would fit him, and he nodded to pretty much all of them.

By the time you were done looking for clothes, the doorbell had rung.

("That was quick," you reminisced. DAHLIA was quick to respond.

"It came from a nearby Walmart."

"Huh.")

Barnes' head jerked as his eyes were trained on the entrance door. You patted his arm, and his eyes glance at you.

"Relax, it's just the food. DAHLIA ordered some groceries earlier."

You stood up to go answer the door, and Barnes followed suit. You raised an eyebrow at him, but he doesn't really seem like he's gonna back down anytime soon.

"You know... You can follow behind, but you're gonna have to be in the shadows or something 'cuz, you know... Just- if someone's still at the door, don't let them see you okay?"

He nods, almost mechanically so, and you turned around and walked to the entrance door.

Opening the door, you were greeted with a few big boxes. You raised an eyebrow and glanced out through the door; there are no cars nearby, and DAHLIA whispers in your ear that the clearing's safe- not a single life signature anywhere.

"Barnes, the coast's clear," you called out, already reaching down to grab one of the boxes. You grunt, adjusting your grip before you lifted and turned around.

Barnes, having already popped out of whatever dark corner he was in, is already a few feet behind you.

"Hey, you don't mind helping me bring in those boxes, will you?"

You were already walking past him, but you barely caught the briefest flash of furrowed eyebrows before you saw him walk over to the door. You mentally shrugged, but placed the box in the kitchen and went back over to the door to get the other one.

By the time you were done setting down the box, Barnes had already closed the door and was standing under the arch connecting the kitchen to the main hallway.

You motioned him over, and he complied.

"What is inside?"

You're almost proud that you didn't jump. He doesn't talk much, but when he does it always startles you.

"Groceries, but I don't know what specifically. DAHLIA chose all of it. And by the looks of it, she chose a lot. So. You're gonna help me unpack and we'll probably- well, I'll probably make some food. You can help if you want."

Your back was turned to him, and you started unloading the boxes and their contents. Barnes doesn't move for a hot moment, but he squats down next to you and starts unwrapping the smaller boxes that were inside it.

"You don't mind if I put on some music, right?"

You glanced at him.

"I... don't. Mind," he mumbles, tentatively glancing back at you. You gave him a brief thumbs up and turned your attention back to

"DAHLIA, play something chill. Low volume."

_______

Pretty much, the whole day consisted of unpacking all of the groceries that had been delivered. You ended up pausing, having gotten tired of being awake without food in your stomach, and made some food for the two of you.

You tried conversing with him, trying to get him to at least feel more comfortable, and it... kinda worked. There are a few touchy subjects that he doesn't really seem to like talking about (he doesn't really vocalize his discomfort, but his flinches, no matter how minute they were, spoke louder than words). HYDRA, obviously. Anything revolving the Avengers put him off as well, among other things.

Really, most of the eating consisted of small talk and eating noises, but at least some of the tension in his shoulders had lessened by the time that you two needed to get back to unpacking. Hell, by the time that was done, Barnes' clothes had arrived.

(Oh, the benefits of being insanely rich. Say it with me kids: Thank you, Tony!)

You're usually a little apprehensive about buying clothes online, but color you surprised when not only did all of them fit; Barnes didn't have a single problem with any of them.

"You like 'em?"

You whistled when Barnes came out of his bathroom, now back in your clothes that you had given him originally. He tried all of them on, and you ended up buying him so many clothes that a lot of time had passed by the time he was done. You just sat on his bed, slowly collecting all of the clothes and ripping off the tags, damned if he didn't like one of them; you'll just take it instead.

"They're adequate," he nodded. In his hand were the folded clothes (A camo tee and dark sweatpants), and he set them onto his bed with the other folded clothes.

"Did any of 'em uncomfortable? Too tight, any of the fabric feels wrong...?"

You left the question open-ended as you helped him dump it into a laundry bin. He doesn't respond right away as if he didn't hear you. His eyes flicker over to yours.

"... No. They- I..." the muscle under his eye spasms, "I liked them..."

You grinned, "Glad to hear that, guess we got lucky that none of these was a dud, huh?"

The ghost of a smile that was on his lips appeared briefly, but it was gone just as fast as it had appeared.

Really, that had basically been the peak of the day before things had started to mellow out a little bit. But that was okay, you took whatever it was that Barnes gave, and if it was just the smallest smile you've ever seen on a man, then so be it.

Afterward, the day somehow managed to blend together and pass along like an exhale. Not much happened, since you couldn't really- well, offer anything that could scientifically and medically help him. So you opted to just- try to get him up to date as much as possible.

Honestly, by the time that you had gotten through the first three decades (starting when he was born), it was already pretty late into the night.

(He had a lot of questions, and you really didn't blame him. Hell, most of the more personal information really came from DAHLIA, because as much as you sympathized with the man, you really didn't care to learn about his whole entire biography.

But, at least you answered most of the history related questions. If you had to go through a few history college classes back when you were in college, then you'll be damned if you didn't at least make an effort to learn and internalize them.)

Barnes didn't really show any signs of exhaustion if the casual leg bouncing wasn't enough, but you sure were pooped.

(What? Unlike your dad (and most of the Avengers) you actually had a normal internal clock. For the most part, anyway.)

"Well, as much as I liked talking about prehistoric times," you sounded sarcastic, but you actually did like it, "I gotta sleep, I don't run on super-soldier energy like you do bub."

You stood up, stretched, and saw that Barnes was now standing up as well.

"Should I...?"

Raising an eyebrow, you huffed in good nature, "Go to sleep? Yeah, probably. We're not done with the History101 crash course, and we'll probably be talking about other things tomorrow as well," especially about the fact that you're not gonna be at the safe house often soon, "so we both need the energy for that. So, go clean up and get some Z's, yeah?"

"Oh."

He looked a little lost but followed you back into your shared hallway. Stopping in your doorway, you turned your head to glance at Barnes.

"Good night, Barnes," you nodded, not waiting for a response as you headed into your room. It was quiet and almost inaudible, but you still heard it with your ears before you had closed the door shut.

"... Good night."

You stood in your room, a sudden wave of both exhaustion and dread flooding your body. You shook it off though; it was just the nervous jitters hitting you at an inopportune time.

But really, you trusted your guts almost as much as you trusted Tony.

So as you brushed your teeth and did your business in the bathroom, you tried to quell the anxiety that was building up in your chest.

"DAHLIA, keep an eye on him."

"Gotcha, doll."

You sighed, dropped onto your bed, and hoped that whatever it was that might happen, you'd be prepared for it.

_______

And lo and behold, it didn't even have to be the next morning before shit all hit the fan when DAHLIA wakes you up in the middle of the night (3 A.M., to be specific).

"-oll, wake up! Barnes is having a panic attack!"

It takes half a second to process the fear in DAHLIA's voice. It takes another to process her words.

Fuck.

Scrambling immediately out the bed, you thanked whatever higher being there is that you were sleeping with at least some sweatpants on as you booked it straight to your door and right through Barnes'.

(Maybe you should have joined the football team, because that would have been one wicked tackle. Ha, yeah right, you know nothing about football.)

The lights were on, most likely DAHLIA's doing, and his bedsheets were clearly mussed up. He's nowhere to be seen, so your eyes jump to the joined bathroom door, and lo and behold, there was light bleeding through the cracks.

You quickly approached the door and opened it, throwing away the worry that he might have been absolutely naked.

The good news was that he wasn't nude.

The bad news was that he was hunched over on the ground, right in front of the bathroom counter, and he's gripping his head so tightly you would have thought his skull would have caved in.

Terror shoots down your spine like a lightning bolt, and you immediately rushed to the curled over Barnes, adrenaline rushing through you as a million thoughts ran through your head.

"Barnes!"

He doesn't appear to hear you, groaning and panting as he further curled in on himself. His muscles spasm, hard, and you're at a loss at what to do. He's sickly pale, and the sheen on his skin makes you want to vomit. His panting is shallow, and if you weren't sure if the glint that shone in your eyes was the reflection off of the marble floors or a puddle of saliva coming from Barnes.

You're not sure if touching him right now is a good thing, but you'll be damned if he wasn't your responsibility now. You reach out to him, wrapping one arm around his hunched back and the other trying to pry at his wrists.

(Would you have touched him, if you didn't have the reassurance that DAHLIA has your back?)

(Shut up.)

Maybe you were tensing up for him to go all "Winter Soldier" mode on you, but he's the one that tenses, even more, when you touched him. Thankfully, he doesn't resist your pull as his arm is limp the moment you tried to pull it back, but it doesn't change the fact that he's shaking, badly, and your mind is frozen in limbo.

"DAHLIA, what-"

You're at a loss for words, but DAHLIA, sweet DAHLIA already knows what you were about to ask.

"Sergeant Barnes was displaying elevated levels of anxiety, however, it did not seem to warrant any mentions. I thought-"

She cuts herself off, almost as if she was worried that she had made a wrong call. You swallowed, knowing that despite being a baby A.I., she's never done wrong by you- both in the future and now.

"You thought what?"

You try to rub Barnes' back as if he was a dog that had needed soothing. He groans, but you're not sure if you should interpret that as a hurt groan or a relieved one. You paused and moved your hand away, hovering it just inches away from his back, and his breath hitches.

Your hand dropped onto his back once again, and you could feel the muscles on his muscles spasm a little; his whimpers aren't as loud and painful (though, they're still more than worrying).

So, on the very small bright side, back rubs don't seem to be hurting him either. It's a small win, but a win for sure.

"You- my visuals were clear in the conclusion that you saw it. His discomfort. Your body language and expression acknowledged it but you refrained from addressing it. I- acted under the assumption that it was all under control..."

Something in your mind pauses for a pregnant second before your eyes widened.

"What?"

DAHLIA doesn't even get the chance to reply as Barnes jerks his hands away from yours and pulls at his scalp again. You lurched forward.

"Hey! No!"

You bit back a growl as you grabbed his wrists once again. You yank them back down to his sides as his body jolts, a sob ripping through him. You placed a hand on his chest and tried to boost him back up so he'll have his back against the bathtub that's behind him.

He offers little to no resistance as his back makes contact with the bathtub, but he's slumped into himself. He pulls his knees forward and curls his head into them. For a super-soldier, it's almost cute how hard he's trying to take up as little space as possible if it weren't for the fact that your heart was absolutely breaking at the sight of him.

"Oh, Barnes..."

In shuddered breaths, he mumbles something incoherent.

"...-an't, I- I- I-.... -can't..."

He shakes his head, jolting as if someone had shocked him. You rubbed his arm, glancing down at what you can now confirm to be a puddle of saliva, and then over to the trash can right next to the toilet. You're not too sure if you should get it just in case he decides to vomit, but you're ready to lunge for it the moment Barnes shows any signs of gagging.

"DAHLIA," you spoke at a lower volume, "what- when was he, um, uncomfortable."

"Two nights ago, roughly 22:00, when you told Sargeant Barnes that he was his own free man. Yesterday morning, 08:00, when you asked if he wanted to do anything prior to browsing the available clothing catalog. Right after, he was also discomforted by the catalog, before you offered to buy clothes for him. At-"

"That's- that's enough," you breathlessly muttered. DAHLIA doesn't say anything else, but the air has suddenly become heavier than you remembered.

Your head was almost dizzy with not only how many instances Barnes had been anxious in such a short time, but also at how you remembered each and every instance with startling clarity.

Barnes was anxious at the idea of freedom, but you put it off and opted to just give him a nickel tour of the house.

Barnes was anxious when you asked if he wanted to do anything before looking at clothes, but looked too relieved when you brushed over it.

Barnes was anxious at the idea of shopping for fucking clothes but was okay after you took over for him.

The taste of stomach acid burned your tongue, as yesterday's dinner threaten to rise at the implication of all of this.

"DAHLIA," you mumbled, "the- the rest of those instances- do they..."

You trained your eyes on Barnes.

"Do they all- follow the same... The same- pattern?"

DAHLIA was always in tune with you, even after the time jump.

"... Yes," she lamented.

"God..."

Now, you're not sure who that trash can would be really for; you or Barnes.

"Barnes..."

You murmured quietly. He flinches, and his shaking hasn't gotten any better.

"What- what was it? Was it- was it all too much? God, I'm so sorry, it probably was, wasn't it? I should have- fuck, I should have taken it more slowly, I-"

Barnes shakes his head, stopping you in your rambling. You blinked rapidly.

"Then- was it..." you paused, "... Was it the choices?"

It's almost expected that he doesn't answer you straight away, but he nodded anyway.

"I... It was- it was too much- I couldn't- I don't know- I-"

His breath shuddered with each word as if it hurt him to just even speak right now. You shushed him, ignoring the intrusive thought that it was akin to shushing an animal.

"Hey, hey, it's- it's okay. You'll be okay."

It's not much, what you're saying to him, and it's no surprise that they didn't do much anyway.

Honestly, you didn't know what to say at this point. There didn't even seem to be any phrasing in the known English language that would be able to comfort a man with as much baggage on his shoulders as Barnes, and briefly, just briefly, you wished that you were literally anywhere in the world, but here.

You tried thinking about anything that came from your (albeit limited) interactions with him between the past days that would help ground him, before something jolts you from deep within.

("What are my mission parameters," Barnes asked from behind you.

You paused.

"Mission parameters?")

You didn't even realize that you had said that out loud, but Barnes had tensed up even more before you could even take it back. He held his breath, audibly swallowing.

("You don't need mission parameters, Barnes. You're your own free man. You can- can make decisions on your own. You don't need me to tell you what you need to do.")

("I... Don't understand...")

You spoke on impulse.

"You... You need them, don't you? Mission parameters."

Immediately, you regretted even speaking up just as those words left your mouth.

While every fiber in your being hoped that it wasn't true, there was a small inkling in your head that already knew the answer to your question. It was the only thing that was barely even logical enough to make sense.

His apprehension of making a choice.

How uncomfortable in his own skin he always appeared, despite it even being just a few days.

How relieved he always looks, when the choice was already made for him.

His body tenses underneath your hand, but it's the slight bob of his head that makes your stomach drop. You thought- what a fool you were- you thought he'd be okay without being ordered around, but that was nothing but wishful thinking.

(What was the saying? It's hard to teach an old dog a new trick, was it?)

(Yeah.)

Looking at how only a few days of what you had originally thought was Barnes' newfound freedom turned out to be much more of a nightmare for Barnes, it might just be better for the both of you to push aside your comfortability and start making an honest-to-God investment into Barnes' recovery, even if that means that you had to take a step backward.

A very, very risky step backward.

It was a shot in the dark, but it was the only thing that you could place your bets on for now.

You just hoped that your aim wouldn't fail you now.

"Okay, well... How about this, Barnes, here's your main- your main mission, okay? Become a free man. Hey, no, look at me," you swiveled his head so he could look at you. His eyes were panicked, crazed, and irredeemably sad, but you had to make sure nothing crossed through your face so he'd know that everything will be okay. Your grip on both sides of his face was firm as you pleaded with him.

"Your only 'mission' right now? Breathe," ironically, his breath hitched, "If not for your own sake, then for mine."

You swallowed, heart stuttering as you looked into his glassy eyes.

"Please," you let your desperate prayer lingered in the air.

Maybe it was being given a task to accomplish after days of trying to figure out what to do with his supposed new "freedom", or it was how non-labor intensive and just... simple, his new mission parameter was, but it was almost instantaneous how all of the tension in his body dissipated into thin air.

Witnessing the moment of mercy upon grief through Barnes, no matter how brief or temporary it may be, was almost cathartic.

Almost.

(Perhaps you shouldn't be looking for absolution vicariously. But you were never really a good person, were you?)

_______

A/N: I've read a lot of WinterIron fics. While I have read a lot of interpretations about how Barnes would have reacted when he was freshly freed from HYDRA, this is how I choose to interpret it- one that would best fit the story for now. Next chapter, since I couldn't fit it in this chapter, is a special, but it is very much important and related to the story, and Barnes as a character. If you're familiar with some WinterIron tropes, this won't be too foreign of an idea. Not too sure about other ships/ stories, but. Ah, I'm rambling. Anyways, see you next year lol.

_______

Masterlist 

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Tagged: @unsolvetheheckoutofit @tonystanktheirondad @ludwigvonbaethoven @rspctot7 (if you’re not @/ fabledxmystery, so sorry for the mistag! LMK if it’s not you) @tolkoskott @klanceiscannon14 @deos-life (grr it won’t let me tag you) @kp1183 (kperla1183) @xyuriko-akamine (akabaneyuriko) @kettnerjanea​ @soldier-42 @daybreakmistakes @spnfanboy777 @crash-zite @jm-cy

[icollectyoursins]

NSFW Prosciutto headcanons

Pseudo_Possom on AO3 said: “This is beautiful... I’m not on tumblr, but may I request some Prosciutto NSFW headcanons that are also kinda wholesome? I need more slightly wholesome ham in my life.”

I have been looking forward to writing this since I got the request. I love me some juicy ham! It started wholesome, then slowly went down to the nastier things, then back to wholesome.

Have a character, but no idea? Prompt list here!

Looking for more? Master post here!

WARNINGS: Breeding, lingerie, cock warming, riding, fingering, oral, handjobs, sounding, pegging, panty sniffing, jerking off, mentions of porn, vouyerism/glory holes (Receiving oral as well as watching S/O do that with someone else), cuckolding (I guess), threesome, sloppy seconds, cuddles as after care, also baths.

Word Count: 2,110

Alrighty, where do I start? This man loves to breed to S/O. Just adores seeing his seed leaking out of them in a slow stream. Now, unlike other characters I have done headcanons for, he is not one to go for too many rounds, so expect lots of sweet, warm, littered-with-kisses cuddles. If he’s pent up, he’ll usually go for more, but he tends to last long enough to make up for multiple rounds so he doesn’t see the need.

If you two are able and are trying to have a child, he is so tender. Pulling you into his arms, making a nest of pillows around you (this man has 10 on his bed, convince me otherwise) and just massaging your stomach whispering about how he can’t wait to see you grow. 

I dunno, I just think this man is soft for his S/O which only becomes more apparent when he’s filled them with his seed. 

Kissing Prosciutto would be fucking ascending. Equal parts passionate and sweet. His lips are so soft against yours and the smell of his cologne seems to just envelope you. He buys only the best for both himself and you, so of course he’s soft. He tastes the tiniest bit like mint. Not overwhelming or strong, just subtle. And a sweet mint. 

Your first time with him can either go one of two ways: it’s either a rough, quick but still hot and heavy fuck in the back of his car before he drops you off at home, or it’s desperate, deep and gentle thrusts into you that rock the entire bed. Just the image of him crawling back into the front seat, adjusting his shirt and pants has me fucking drooling

Oh. Surprise him with lingerie. Casually walking out of the bathroom in a revealing body suit or stockings and garter belt. Prosciutto is weak. If you’ve been together for a while, he’s more vulnerable with his arousal and adoration, mouth dropping open and just staring. If it’s a new relationship, he’ll try to hide it by either giving you a chaste compliment that sounds a little derogatory if you read into it too much or getting suave with it, trying to flip the table so you’re the one being seduced. 

     You ran your fingers over the delicate fabric clinging to your body, admiring your form in the mirror. Lace and straps wrapped around you, sitting in all the right places, complimenting your figure. 

     “Piccola/Piccolino, are you here?” Prosciutto called out to you as he entered your shared bedroom, immediately noticing your missing presence. You grinned to yourself in the en-suit bathroom. He called out your name, taking off his jacket and tossing it on the bed. While he adjusted his clothes, making himself more comfortable, you slowly made your way out. 

     “I’m here,” you said smoothly, leaning against the door frame. He quickly glanced at you in the mirror, expecting you to be in pajamas and ready for bed. A double take was made when he saw what you were wearing. 

     Prosciutto’s mouth had dropped open slightly as he turned around to look at you. He muttered something under his breath that you didn’t quite hear. All you did was chuckle at his amazement as he slowly made his way to you, hands creeping up your sides once before sliding back down to grope your behind.

     “What is this?” He mused. “For me, piccola /piccolino? You spoil me, you know.” You smiled at him sweetly, gently cupping his face with your hand before leaning in to kiss him. Hungrily, he pulled you closer, quickly getting more aggressive, biting your lower lip and roughly exploring your mouth with his tongue.

     Prosciutto pulled away, staring at you with a sinful glare.

     “Look at you,” he growled, breathing heavily. Suddenly, he pulled your arm, then pinned you against the wall. His voice rumbled in your ear as his lips grazed your neck. “You’re not going to be able to walk out of his room.”

If he’s feeling lazy and you’re feeling randy, he is 100% down to let you just ride him into the sofa while he’s watching TV or just cock warm him. I think he just enjoys the intimacy, you know? Like, he’s finally able to let some of his barriers go that he just completely relaxes. Not to say he can’t be rough, he absolutely can, but he enjoys the soft moments just as much as he loves the rough sessions.

Alright, oral. He’s... okay at giving, sitting in between being good and bad. I don’t see him being super into giving oral (ie. eating someone out or blowjobs) unless he’s bottoming that night which, of course, rarely happens because of his pride. Receiving, however! Loves it. Give him a quick blow before he goes into a meeting and he’ll probably have your mouth on his mind for the rest of the day. Tease him with your tongue and you might have him begging. He would do anything to get those lips around him. 

For the more relaxed moments of sex I can picture him being tender and soft with his praise, running his hands through your hair, calling you beautiful or moaning out “belissima” when you take his entire length. Pros cums instantly if you make eye contact while slowly swallowing him whole, then pull back to the tip. He’s practically drooling when you clean the cum off of him. After, he’ll cup your face pulling you into a sweet kiss before returning the favor and getting you off with his hand/fingers.

With more rougher sessions, he’s fucking your face. You head is pinned against the wall and he’s just destroying your throat in the best way. When he gets close, he’ll cum on your face or chest, calling you every dirty word he could possibly think of. Needless to say, you’ll both be left a wreck after that.

Now, while he may not be a master of oral, he absolutely has fingering down to an art form! On S/O’s with a vagina especially (not that he isn’t good at hand jobs, as well, I think he just has a slight preference). *blurb below is fem!reader*

     Long fingers curled up into your sweet spot making you cry out, arching your back. Prosciutto pushed you back down onto the bed again, picking up the pace as punishment. His thumb came to you clit, rubbing back and forth with a force that seemed to blind you. His name fell from your lips an endless amount of times as you lost control, legs kicking out against the sheets. You begged him to let you cum.

     “No.” He said sternly. You whined in protest. “You can take it.” 

Well, now that that’s out of the way! Hand jobs. I can’t get the picture of you being tied down to a chair, naked while he’s completely dressed (save for his jacket which was tossed somewhere else). He’s rubbing your length as softly as he could to keep you from cumming too soon. When you get close, he casually pulls away, adjusting his clothes. Dude just likes denial, what can I say?

I have that this written in my notes forever: sounding. Mmm. Tying him down on the bed or even just ordering him not to move while you liberally apply lube to the tip of his cock and then slowly spreading the opening with a thin rod. Oh! The way he would writhe. Delicious.

Pegging this man would be heavenly. The first time he would be so shocked, almost kind of offended you brought it up, but then he would start looking at porn of it because you peaked his curiosity (not that he’d ever admit it) and then... he just wants to do it all of the sudden. You’re gentle, of course, but even just the smallest buck of your hips has him melting. Nothing but putty in your hands, freely and wildly moaning.

Now you’ve got him hooked. Wanna play a more dominant role? Order him to do something. Don’t just say “get on your knees.” Order him. Drag a crop along his cheek. You will absolutely make him weak so he’ll either drop to his knees and do whatever you say, or (more commonly) he’ll be a tough nut to crack and make you work for his submission. 

Alright, this one... this is a gross one that he will probably never admit to anyone, but I read somewhere that he’d sniff his S/O panties while jerking off and my mind fucking exploded. Even just inhaling the scene from your shirts or pillow case gets him going. Come home early to moans coming from the bedroom and getting just the tiniest peek of your clothing pressed to his face while he furiously rubs his cock. *Chef’s fucking kiss*

He would never EVER admit to it though because it’s something Melone or Illuso would do and he has more class than that. Or looks like he does.

Prosciutto probably watches a lot of porn, lets be real. Not as much as the two previously mentioned or Formaggio, but still a lot. He does it to research more than actually get off, looking at some of the weirder things that Melone is into (which mostly feet, but there are a few gems in there) like dominatrix things, swings, glory holes, that kind of thing. He tends to favour the glory holes, if he’s being completely honest. 

If you’re into roleplaying being strangers and meeting up at a glory hole he will probably cum more than he ever has in his life. After the “hook up” he’ll give you nothing but praise and kisses for the rest of the night.

Or, if you’re okay with actually doing it with strangers, he’ll watch (or film it for later) then fuck whatever part of your body was used just to boost his pride by saying shit like “they were good, but you like this more” or “time for a real man to fuck you. You really only feel good with me, right?” Just nasty stuff like that.

     Prosciutto’s eyes grew wide as he watched your lips wrap around the unfamiliar cock in front of you, eagerly sucking in more of it. You looked at him out the corner of your eye, just to make sure he was still looking. He moans quietly, palming himself through his pants while still trying to keep steady, hoping the video would turn out okay. He wasn’t really paying attention to camera angles. 

     You got more bold, wrapping your hand around the cock that was now lubed up with your spit. Now, you bobbed on it in sync with your strokes. The man on the other side of the wall quickly came into your mouth. You showed the camera the load, mouth open wide, then you swallowed it, showing your empty mouth again. 

     Your partner practically scrambled to turn the video off, pulling his pants down as fast as he could. He turned you around, wasting no time thrusting himself into you. “Fuck. You really know how to make a man jealous, don’t you?” You cry out as he starts fucking into you relentlessly.

Would be more into threesomes if he wasn’t surrounded by La Squadra. Although, the idea of putting Melone in his place does sound rather nice and watching you do it? Even more so. What? No, he doesn’t actually want to fuck Melone, he just thinks he’d look good forced to cum on his cock over and over again... okay, maybe he wants to fuck him, but it’s not like that-

Alright, I wrote about this in the Demon!Risotto x Reader x Demon!Prosciutto thing but sloppy seconds are so good. Doesn’t really care who’s cum it is (save for Pesci and Illuso because he would never let Illuso do that to you, just rubs him the wrong way), he just loves the look, the feel; everything that comes with sliding his cock into your already full hole and watching it leak out over the sides of his length.

Not the king of after care, but good. Prosciutto loves to take long lavish baths with you or going to the spa just to make yourselves feel nice and pretty after doing something raunchy and “gross.” Grabs you two water if you need it, massages any sore spots on your body, just general stuff. 

More reluctant to receive after care because of his pride, but will eventually cave and let you rub his sides or whatever, then he just melts. You’re just so warm against him and he’s so tired. He falls asleep quicker than he usually does and wakes up feeling a little more chipper than usual.

-----

Translations: piccola /piccolino -baby girl/baby boy belissima-beautiful

[kanene-yaaay]

Go Virge, go!

Kanene’s note: TODAAAAAAAAAY IS A SPECIAAAAAL DAYYYY!!! DO YOU KNOW WHY?? THAT IS RIGHT! BECAUSE TODAY IS @why-not-a-tickle-blog BIRTHDAY!!!! Gooooosh!!!! I know I already did a whole speech before, mah friendo, but you’re just so amazing and lovely! Aaaaaa I’m happy for being your friend! <33

Okay, I got a little carried away! Enjoy the gift! x3

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* This characters don’t belongs to me! They all belong to Thomas Sanders and his series Sanders Sides!

* This is a SFW Tickle-Fanfic, so, if you don’t appreciate this kind of content, please, look for another blog. There are a plenty of fabulous arts in this site!!  ^w^)b

* Oneshot. Something around 3.800 words.w-)b. Lee!Virgil and Ler!Patton in Human AU.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any and every advice is very very welcome! \(-w-)/

* Since  it’s a gift: Essa fanfic não será traduzida, mals. Thankys for reading, my lollipops, especially you, Livvy!! Have a wonderful and incredible day just like you! 

[~*~]

Patton was confused. A lot.

 And that wasn’t even a whole brand-new thing in his life.

 Patton got confused quite frequently, being honest.  

He got confused when he accidentally fell asleep on the couch and woke up four hours later with all his house painted in the dark of the night and without a single drop of memory about where he is or who he is for some minutes. Patton got confused when his attention was caught in some adorably adorable video of kittens being the best thing in the world and quickly ran to Virgil’s room just to show them to him, not understanding why his friend can’t stop looking at him quizzically until Virgil finally asks why does he has a spoon in the knot of his cardigan and Patton jumps because HIS COOKIES ARE IN THE OVEN AND HOW MUCH TIME HAD PASSED-

 Oh. Wait. That is not what he was talking about. Focus, focus!

 Anyway. Life is confusing, feelings, thoughts, actions, trying your best, keep going, look at the refrigerator just to realize you have no idea of what you were supposed to be searching in the first place, humans…

 Yeah, especially humans.

 Patton stared at the figure of his friend laid on the couch, absently looking at his phone while a piece of smile adorned his face. The movie both decided to watch paused in the background as the one currently in the kitchen waited for the popcorn get ready, his hand held lightly his chin and a frown rest peacefully in his features, mirroring the same expression he always saw on Logan every time he was confronted by a problem whose solution seemed impossible to find.

 It was The Pose of all the incredible genius in the world, right? Therefore, in some moment about now the answers of all his questions should magically pop before him, unfolding and refolding in logic patterns just like in all the mystery series and books.

 Right about noooow…

 …

 Now?

 …

 Well, it didn’t work.

 Patton pouted, turning to pour the warm and probably delicious snack in big bowls that both would pretend they wouldn't be able to finish before even getting in the middle of the so expected movie. He grabbed the bowls and headed to the other room, reprising the entire day in his mind, a faint echo of Logan saying that could help basing his decision.

 Everything started in the morning with Patton arriving at their breakfast table only to find Virgil, but not his usual Virgil.

 That was a Virgil without his hoodie.

 Not that it was a totally strange thing! Usually by his free mornings he would prefer to wander in the house on his comfortable pajamas, however the thing today is… he wasn’t on his pajamas. He was prepared to fight the world – actually Virgil was just going to work, but he said this sounded more badass - on his black Slipknot shirt, jeans and the hoodie nowhere near to be seen.

 Besides that, today was predominantly cold. Cold enough for the one wearing glasses end up missing his favorite cat cardigan by the time he arrived their house, searching for the so dearly craved cloth in every little corner until Patton came across the scene of his friend - his best edgy, lovely friend cutely wearing it and being equally playfully bratty when tried ask it back, pulling out his tongue out as his form dazed in a chase the moment Patton’s promise of ‘physically fight for it!’ – which was a lie, obviously. He gave up the vestment the very moment his eyes locked in a Virgil playing with the cat ears sewed in it – flew from his mouth.

 And, after getting tired out, they cuddled! Okay, this wasn’t nearly a strange occurrence between both, albeit was one of those rare moments when Virgil was the one who initiated it, laying on his lap with a pout and a sharp look, as if he dared the other to say something (and Patton didn’t!! He swears!! Squeals. Do. Not. Count. As. Words.), feeling comfortable enough to even start a Poking War as they were accommodating themselves on the cushions, rays of giggles, squeaks filling the place for some heartbeats before both decided to metamorphose their last bit of routine into a movie night.

 Which was exactly what they were doing!

 Now, don’t get Patton wrong. He was absolutely delighted by everything! Knowing Virgil felt comfortable, safe enough to act nonchalant around him was so heart-warming he could almost feel himself melt in happiness!

 ….But…

 But there was this signal in the back of his mind. A particularly different gleam in the other’s eyes he had already seen before, however couldn’t quite place its meaning yet. Some words unpronounced amongst his lightly snarky demeanor. Some little thing that made Patton feel playful and happily bubbly as well, except he couldn’t really grab the exact information, the exact why or the exact memory.

 Not yet, at least.

  [~*~]

  Virgil was about to fucking quit it.

 No, actually, he was about to fuck quit everything when he woke up of his incredibly, horrible, wonderfully teasy tickle dream. The tingles of the dreamy tickles still ghostly buzzing on his body as he quietly giggled, burying his face in the pillows and kicking about everything on his bed, eyes firmly closed as the memories bathed his mind in a flow made to increase awfully his lee mood.

 And then one of his favorite artists posted some new things on Tumblr, which obligated him to see all their new posts and, who knows, accidentally click in the tag ‘My arts’ of them, which end up with him re-finding other works he had already forgot about, path that consequently leaded to some more reblogs and therefore another bunch of tickle blogs which, of course, made his lee mood at work almost unbearable.

 At least he had the cold to blame if someone questioned about the persistent blush spread on his features.

 After everything, finally: The calm and quiet of home, broken by his determined decision to try to make – somehow - Patton tickle him. His friend was soft and playful by nature, and he already knew Virgil liked tickles (quite of an interesting story involving a meme, a movie and the power going out. Heh. Do not ask about it.) so, I mean, the worst part was already gone, right? It wouldn’t probably be that bad. Virgil would just act naturally, smoothly following a few advices he found in some blogs discussing this topic and hope, for the sake of his life, the Universe wouldn’t follow Murphy's Law for ONCE.

 Of course, that didn’t happen. OF COURSE.

 Virgil tried first to be a bratty. He stole Patton’s cardigan and even ran across the house in an attempt to maintain his new possession. He stretched while laid in Patton’s lap: no hoodie, ticklish spots right there. In the last shot he even let himself giggle every single time his mind wandered to the dark corner designed especially for the subject. The one wearing smudged make up even started a poke war!! A poke war!! What kind of poke war doesn't evolve to a tickle war where he would, so sadly and despise his best efforts, lose spectacularly??

 He crossed his arms and DID NOT pout, blowing grumpily some strands of hair that fell in his vision’s field.

 “I would sell my soul for a tickle.” Virgil growled, his usually careful façade crumbling under the quite persistent thoughts of fingers spidering on his ribs, counting each one of them before lazily dragging the tip of the nails to his quivering tummy, dancing and poking unbothered by his squi-

 “What was that?”

 Virgil squeaked, jumping some centimeters in the air when the voice of his approaching friend filled the room, the words getting stuck in his throat, his head shooting in the other’s direction, wide eyes.

 “What.” He eloquently offered.

 “I was too far, didn’t hear what you said, sorry. Could you repeat, please?”

 Virgil tried – failing - to not blush. Patton was… actually being serious, right? That wasn’t any kind of tease, even if the traitor little demon he usually called brain unhelpfully unlocked all the memories of all the tickle fanfics he read that began with that exact same words. “Nothing. It was nothing.” He promptly ignored the way his voice came out slightly high.

 “Oh, okay!” Patton kindly smiled, putting the popcorn on the coffe table and looking for some space on the couch to lay down while Virgil pressed play, the show’s opening quickly filling the air and silence hanging between both. Patton stopped. Suddenly Virgil felt a shiver run across his whole body, his gaze turning to his friend, only to find the one wearing glasses staring at him intently.

 “You like tickles.”

 The word only was enough to jolt his body back to a sitting position, butterflies starting to wake up, proceeding to fly the most desperate as possible in his stomach, his brain fuzzing, crumbling for answers of How and When and What the Fuc-

 “What? NO! I mean, yes but how- when did you just…”

 “Oh!” Patton gasped and Virgil felt his whole face in flames once the realization of the shiny gleam in the other’s eyes, almost as literal stars shining, hit him. Maybe… Maybe something he had done before finally work? “That is why you initiated a Poke War? Were you trying to make me tickle you? Vee, you just needed to ask!”

 Yep. No. Nope. No way. That was definitely worse.

 Virgil tried to hide himself in his hoodie, deciding he could very much rather perish in his Lee Mood than stare at the pure love and awe gazed right in his direction. His lips curving in a shadow of a smile for a second when he pressed himself further on the furniture, noticing with a grumble leaving his mouth the only armor he owned was the cat cardigan. Hood pulled up and his face firmly pressed on his knees, he ignored the way his excited giggles started to bounce and dance in his throat, resulting in his own body bounce a bit.

 “Knock knock…” Virgil felt a light tapping on his knee.

 “Fuck off.” The hissed answer ran without letting he even think about it, too much occupied in pretending to not notice how much this position left his entire tickl- I mean, sensitive torso vulnerable and how much not seeing what was happening increased second by second the tingles and shivers crazily racing in his skin.

 “Gasp! Virgil!” The one dying in the cat cardigan internally rolled his eyes at the literally audible gasp his friend vocalized, almost being able to see the playful mood taking over his expression as it always has when they swore around him. “I should tickle you for this, Mister Potty Mouth!” Yes. Yes!! Come on, come on! “But I won’t.”

 Hey now, what.

 “What?!” His head shot upwards absurdly fast, a fact which, obviously, he would deny it to the end of his living and non-living days.

 “I don’t want you to feel like you have to hide or ignore your desire for tickles every time you have them! Especially…”

 ‘Please – see? I know how to use some freaking good words. - Please don’t say what I think you’re going to say, Patton. You’re cool, you’re a funny guy, you have good intentions but you have any ideas of what the fuck will happen??’ Virgil found himself almost pleading, the sentences already running in his head, but his lips firmly gripped in the fear to let out more than these simple words.

 “… Since I’m totally okay in tickling you! Oh, wait. Did you just squirm? Aww, Virgil!! That is so, so adorable! You’re blushing, too! Awwwwww!!! Okay, okay, okay, I’m… Imma gonna die of cuteness. You’re truly the most precious being I’ve ever met!!! Wait, what I was just saying…?” 

 ‘I will die! No! I’m already dying! See? You already accomplished what you wanted!! Let’s move on to the next damn part!’

 “Oh right!” Patton lightly hit the side of his head. “I’m glad to tickle you! Truly! All you have to do is…”

 ‘Dude, Patton, Pat-Pat, Popstar don’t…’

 “Ask me! Please, please, please!!” Virgil stared him dead in his eyes, crossing his arms, his cheeks so hot that he was surprised his face didn’t melt yet. “Aw, don’t give me that look, kiddo!” Virgil just narrowed his eyes further. Patton pouted, his ‘Puppy Eyes’ expression – more like an unfair weapon - showing and nailing cracks on Virgil’s resolution.

 They stayed like this for a while, until Patton abruptly lifted his hands, his fingers wiggling on Virgil’s direction, the movement so out of blue that catched his friend out of guard, a true yelp jumping from him before he grumpily growled and let himself fall on the cushions.

 “I can’t.”

 “Of course, you can, kiddo! I’m rooting for ya! Wanna see?” And then he started to fold and unfold his fingers, approaching them to Virgil inch by inch “Go Virge, go! Go, Virge, go! Goooo, Virgeyyyy, go!” Inch by inch. Close and then even closer. The boy with a wobbly smile in his face felt like he couldn’t tear his eyes from the movements, the butterflies seeming to freak out in his stomach in the rhythm of the cheers.

 He hides his face behind his hands. Patton was going to be the end of his existence.

 “Stohop it.” Dammit. He was breaking.

 ‘Come on, guy! You can do this!’ He internally whined.

 “Ooh, is that a beauty giggly giggle what I hear? The cheering should be working then, don’t you think?! We believe in you, Virge-poo! And we can’t wait for when we…” Virgil dared to spy the scene between his fingers, only to see Patton’s hands barely touching his sides, his fingers positioned in a claw shape. “… getcha, getcha, getcha, getcha, getcha, getcha!!” They suddenly moved, clawing unbearably away and terribly close at each couple of words.

 No. Virgil did NOT squeal nor squirmed closer to the fingers. Fuck you. Nobody asked. That is none of your business anyway.

 ‘Just… just don’t think about it! Pull it off. Like… I don’t know! Like a stupid band aid!’

 “It is going to be so much fun! I didn’t even tickle you yet and you’re already giggling excitedly! Think in all your wonderful, beautiful laughter flying everywhere when I finally tickle, tickle, tickle, tickle you silly!! You’ll be giggling up a storm! Happy gasp! Pun inserted!”

 Virgil obligated himself to take a deep breath and not stare the warm, teasy hands which were oblivious of the intern turmoil caused as they rested on his sides. Their tips very lightly, almost impossible to feel and – even more difficult to ignore - poking the ticklish skin, as if they simply couldn’t bring themselves to stay still. The one laid on the couch and yet hiding his face felt the urge to kick just to get off all the pleasantly nervous energy building up in his body.

 “Virgey-wiggly-wiggley…~”

 “TICKLEMEPLEASE!”

 Patton squeaked excited, the teasy grin immediately giving space to the joyful smile. “Of course!” He grazed his fingers up his sides to his ribcage, the nails lightly drawing circles around each one of the ribs, receiving a quick tasering in the middle of them before going up to the next one, letting for a piece of moment Virgil’s bubbly and more high-pitched giggles fill the room alone.

 The cat cardigan owner ran the tip of his fingers up and down, up and down, up and down his sides, watching in complete awe the way the other squirmed at each infinitesimal move. He stopped the movement on his right side, his eyes gleaming behind the lenses as accompanied Virgil adorably wiggling away from the reminiscent tickles, as if he tried to escape from the evil fingers scribbling in that exactly spot which connected his left side to his tummy and leaded cute, sweet titters escape from his gigantic smile.

 A devious plan shinned in his head.

 Patton ceased the tickling in order to give him a breath, smiling at the pout that didn’t take too long before blooming in the other’s features.

 He quickly poked his left side, immediately hearing quiet, bubbly giggles dance across the air as Virgil wiggled to his right, only to be warmly welcomed by scratches of one single finger on his lower back, making his breath stop so fast a snort escape. Virgil widened his eyes, his hands automatically clapping in his mouth at the same time a big, gleaming grin took over Patton’s expression. They stared at each other, fingers never stopping, squirms never ending.

 “No.” His voice was slightly wobbly, giggles beginning to intertwine his words as his friend scribbled softly again. “No no no! You are a- dON’T!- such a dork!!! No!!”

 They initiated the cycle again. Every time Virgil squirmed to escape from the left tingles to the right tickles one more finger was added to the attack, soon leaving the blushed poor victim kicking sporadically when the ten fingers resumed their light, tickly attack. “I’m going t-t-to kick you!!” and then was subdued to the snorts and squeals painting his fast titters.

 The one who wore the cat hoodie which moments before had slipped from his head in the ““fight””, now showing clearly the red strongly flaming his cheeks and the tip of his ears shook his head from side to side, the frown he tried to form being immediately won by the smile taking over his features. Virgil let himself embrace the feeling completely over, laughing freely, almost doesn’t believing this was actually happening.

 That it didn’t matter how much he tried to escape nor squirm, the tickling just followed his movements, just as all his (fake) protests didn’t stop the excited, evil teases pouring from the other’s mouth. Not to tell how only the big, happy gaze from Patton was definitely not helping in the slightest his current state at all!

 He was certain. There was no way out of this. He was going to melt and   d i e.

 And he was loving every single second of this.

 “Aww! Tickle, tickle, tickle, Virge!! Look at the happiness shining in your face!! Someone really, really loves some tickly-tickles, am I right? But don’t worry, Virgey-wiggley! I will give you all the tickles you could ever want! Like here!” He booped Virgil’s bellybutton “Here” A couple of fingers slid on his waistline “And here, and here, and here and everywhere!” Fingers flew quickly, traveling on his hips, collarbone, sides, behind his ears…

 The incapacity to know where Patton would strike next killed every single drop of coherent thoughts of his mind, which could only focus on the tickling and how much it was unbearable and everywhere and it  t i c k l e d . His giggles grew to chortles, his hands flying from his own face to lightly push Patton’s, dislocating his glasses and freeing surprised chuckles mixed with his own squeaks.

 “Virgil!!” Patton ceased the playful attack in order to retire the other’s hands off his face, before both knew they’re wrestling, laughter cutting their acts and weakening their movements. “Virge!! I will go to another spot this way!”

 In a blink of an eye one of his friend’s arms hugged his sides and Patton felt a malefic grin crawling his lips without even noticing its presence. Very much different from Virgil, who in the same heartbeat realized his mistake, using the opportunity of the instant of distraction to lightly push the cookie lover off him, quickly dashing across the house. All his instincts gleaming and sparkling the sign of ‘Survive’ in his veins.

 The only reason of what Virgil forgot about the numbness from spending so much time laid on his legs, resulting in trips that definitely made him lose some crucial speed as he encircled the couch, capturing with the corner of his eyes the scene of Patton jumping of the cushions and following his escape route. The crackling dancing in the air owned by nobody specific.

 His heart beat faster, the joy raced his nerves and made his tummy tingle in advance just for imagining the exact moment where two arms would hug him firmly yet gently from behind and his ears would be set on fire the very same moment Patton would say-

 “Gotcha, Giggly Storm! I gotcha, gotcha ya!!” Patton dug his thumbs right above Virgil’s hips, the remaining fingers clawing the poor, sensitive skin in his back, leading belly laughter to took over his friend’s sentence, his knees buckling and legs uncontrollable kicking as Patton sat with him on the floor, pressing his back on his chest and resting his head on his shoulder.

 “Patton!! Pahahatton, come on, no!” Patton just hummed, two fingers calmly walking on Virgil’s waistline. “Don’t you dare!! Don’t you fuckin- gah!” The nails began to slid in the length of the belly, going from a side to another as elected soft snorts and bouncy giggles.

 “Tickle, tickle, tickle, Virge!! Did you thought you could run away from the Tickle Monster? Poor unfortunate soul ~. Now the Tickle Monster has to give you a bunch of more ticklish tickly tickles just for this, don’t you think?!” And then Virgil felt the tickles speed up to scribbles and clawing and wiggles delivered in every inch of his tummy. Going in random patterns, drawing forms on his sweet spot, up and down, from a side to another, over and over again. Quick enough to make him sporadically squirm and kick, a rain of squeals, yelps and squeals flowing from his lips, yet soft and light enough to let him rest his head on the other’s chest and just enjoy the feeling.

 “Awww! Look at how much shaking your tum-tum is! It is probably so happy in receiving its so much craved tickle tickle tickles, right, Virgey-poo?” The answer was only a blushy Virgil hiding his face on Patton’s neck, giggling nonstop.

 “Nonono!! It’s not!” And, if that move only led to a now very exposed neck to be gifted with some special scratches? They both pretended it wasn’t on purpose.

 Patton just rolled his eyes, playfully exasperated, quietly chuckling when the other jumped with the quick squeeze delivered on his hip.

 It didn’t take long before Virgil let out his first ‘Stop’, which Patton happily obliged, don’t having the heart to move when he realized Virgil’s breath becoming calmer, his eyelashes closing as he snuggled closer to the one wearing glasses.

 The duo knew very well they would probably regret napping on the hard, cold floor later, yet none of them managed to bring themselves to care, especially when Virgil’s quiet snorts with the second tickle dream of the day lullabied Patton to an equally peaceful dream.

  [~*~]

  Random non-said thing: Patton only remembered that information because the movie they’re going to watch was one of the trilogy they were watching when Virgil gathered up enough will to tell him he likes tickling.

[wannawritefast]

Whiplash: Ch. 4- Pretending

A/N: Hey guys! Thanks for all the love on the last part! I totally didnt realize there was no title or link to the previous part. I distinctly remember doing that... maybe Tumblr had a goof... Just a heads up that a fixed it and all that jazz. 

Pt. 3

Pairing: Gwilym Lee! Brian Lee x Reader

Donna left the end of that weekend grateful to have spent time with her sister. And you felt equally as grateful to have gotten some bonding time before the holidays rolled around.

You and Brian continued your charade until before long it was time to leave for your family’s house. There was a plethora of Christmases where you didn’t want to go back home for the holidays or even want to celebrate the ‘happiest time of the year’ at all. But this Christmas… this one took the fruitcake.

The night before you left you didn’t get a wink of sleep. You often chalked it up to the fact that your cat was not present (having been put in a kennel earlier that day) and the subsequent lack of him in your bed. But you knew deep down that it was because, this time, you would be coming home with a boyfriend. A fake one.

That seemed to scare you more than you thought it should. If they didn’t believe you or if they found out, you would NEVER be able to live it down. And then there was Brian.

He was too kind and sweet and caring and goofy to you. He treated you better than you deserved. Sometimes you didn’t think it was real. Brian was your best friend and you knew that you could always depend on him. If anything ever happened to jeopardize that, you didn’t know what you’d do.

The two of you left in the mid-morning on the 21st, Brian picking you up and getting breakfast along the way. It took a few hours but you got to your parents’ house by mid-afternoon. Even though you jammed to cassettes the whole way there, your nerves still wracked your body.

7 days at your parents’ house in the English country and 7 days at his. Two weeks. You could do two weeks.

Finally the two of you arrived at your family’s big country house, pulling up in front of the large property. Brian put the car in park and turned off the engine. He reached to unbuckle his seatbelt in the now silent car but you grabbed his wrist to stop him.

“Brian, we don’t have to do this,” you looked him right in the eye.

He coughed out a chuckle. “What?”

“We can turn around right now. I can just say I got sick,” you reached to turn the ignition but he shooed your hands away.

“We’ve come this far and you want to turn around?” Brian questioned. You nodded emphatically. “Oh, come on now. I’m ready and you’re ready.”

“No, Brian,” you let out a panicked breath. This was such a bad idea. You should have just been honest with them from the beginning. “I don’t think I can do this.”

“We’re basically at the front door,” he turned in his seat. “We can’t go back now.”

“Watch me,” you reached for the ignition again.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Brian grabbed your hand and held it. “We’re here. It’s going to be alright.”

You looked out the windows nervously for any sign that your parents or siblings had seen you arrive. “How can you be so sure?”

“I’m not.” Brian fiddled with your fingers and kissed the back of your hand, stirring up butterflies again. “But there’s only one way to find out.”

And with that, he unbuckled his seatbelt, opened his car door and went straight to the trunk, making sure that his keys were in his pocket. You jumped out after him. He was smart. Leaving the vehicle before you could object further… 

He opened the latch and was beginning to take out the luggage. “Brian, I mean it. We can still leave. No one’s seen-”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” His green-eyed gaze was fixed on the front door.

“Y/N’S HOME!!”

“Y/N’S HOME!!” Donna exclaimed, throwing the door open. Her voice echoed down the driveway. She was clad in a Christmas jumper that your mum had made for you, your brother, and your sister a few years back. Mum always insisted that you wear it for at least one day when you visited. As per her request, it was folded neatly at the bottom of your luggage.

“It’s too late,” you whispered to yourself. “If we regret this, it’s not my fault.”

“We’ll be okay,” Brian put an arm around you and you leaned lazily into the hug.

“Y/n! My baby!” That was mum. Although your mum was loud at times, you loved her a lot. Your mother hustled from the front door clad in a loudly patterned apron, which itself was covered in flour and sugar. 

“This doesn’t seem too bad,” he mused to you.

You looked at him from the side of your eyes. “Oh, just you wait.”

You took Brian’s hand and moved to meet them in the middle. Your sister practically jumped on you and knocked you over when she gave you a hug; the two of you tumbled as you hit the ground in a burst of laughter. Brian and your mother both rushed to help the two of you up.

“Hey, Brian,” Donna gave him a friendly hug. “So did she drive you crazy on the way here?”

“Absolutely bonkers.” He teased. You scoffed and bumped him with your shoulder.

“Hi, mum.” You moved to embrace your mother and she pulled you into a bone crushing hug. She held you at arms length. 

“I missed you so much.” She gushed. Her fingers moved to hold your face. You couldn’t help your smile. 

“It’s only been like a month and a half.” You laughed at her emotions.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t miss my daughter!” Your mother exclaimed. “Of course your father misses you too! I tried to get him to take work off today to come greet you two but you know him!” Unfortunately, you did. She rubbed your arms soothingly, turning her attention to Brian. “Now... introduce me to this strapping young man!”

You rolled your eyes but, deep down, it was your stomach that was really rolling. “Mum, this is Brian, my boyfriend.” That word still felt weird.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Brian,” she said as he extended his hand for her to shake. Your mother brushed his hand aside and pulled him into a tight sweet hug. Brian took it with a chuckle. “You don’t need to be formal with me. If you’re good enough for Y/n, you’re more than good enough for me.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Y/l/n,” he replied politely. Brian put an arm around your shoulders for emphasis. You wrapped your arms around his waist.

“Please, call me ‘Y/m/n.’” She froze all of a sudden. “Wait a second… is this the Brian from university?!” Your mum turned to you.

“Yes,” you smiled at your mom, “that’s where we met.”

“Oh my heavens! I remember you talking about Brian!” Your mother excitedly recalled. Uh-oh… 

You laughed nervously and feigned forgetfulness. “What? I don’t think I remember-”

“I do!” She insisted. “You were her best friend.”

“I’d like to think I still am,” Brian replied. “I’m honestly surprised she didn’t run for the hills the moment I opened my mouth.”

Your mother chuckled, “Nonsense! I can see why she said you were so charming. And I remember one time she called me and said that she thought she fancied-”

“OKAY MUM!” Donna cut her off. Brian gave you and her a confused look. Thank God for Donna… “Don’t we have something in the oven?”

“Oh, good heavens! You’re right! Donna will show you to your room.” She turned and ran back inside. “JAMES!” She screeched. “HELP YOUR SISTERS AND BRIAN WITH THE LUGGAGE!”

There was grumbling from inside the house and you steeled yourself for the arrival of your brother. You turned to face Brian quickly as the two of you went back to the car to grab your bags. “I apologize in advance for anything that he says.”

“I can handle it.” He assured you. “I’ve already heard snippets of his typical vocabulary. I’ll be okay.”

As if on cue your brother materialized in the doorway looking classy as ever in an old pair of denim trousers and a stained t-shirt. He tiredly hobbled over, giving Brian a strange look as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“You must be Brian,” James grumbled out. He looked him up and down suspiciously. “I see my sisters weren’t lying about you.”

“I am very much real. Were you expecting a bloke that looked like me? Perhaps less poodle-ish,” Brian called out, trying to lighten the mood up a little bit as he pulled another suitcase from the trunk.

Your brother hummed, unsatisfied, and finally looked at you. “You brought him.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t lying,” you said, cocking your head up proudly.

James hummed again, eyeing your, unbeknownst to him, fake boyfriend. Brian leaned against the car, having unloaded the last of the luggage, nodding a greeting at your brother.

“We’re definitely dating,” you urged. You stood next to Brian and he kissed the side of your head, while you stared down James.

James hummed a third time, oddly quiet. He glanced between you and Brian as if trying to see through the ruse. You were getting nervous.

“Yeah,” your brother stared right through you, “we’ll see about that.”

You, Brian, and Donna fidgeted nervously, not quite sure how to respond to what he said.

You cleared your throat and attempted to diffuse the tension. “Is this any way to greet your sister?”

He gave you a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes and a half-assed hug. Ah, yes, the depth of your brother’s affection… 

Brian and James went to work grabbing the luggage wordlessly. You grabbed one of your bags and walked arm-in-arm with Donna. The two of you shared a look as you went inside and up the stairs.

“Here you go, lovebirds.” James half-tossed the luggage into his old room. 

So this was where your mum had placed the two of you… It was the quietest and most isolated room in the house. Sitting above the garage, in the corner of the second floor, it was hard to disturb anyone with noise especially since the other two rooms on the floor were a decent distance away.

You wouldn’t have minded the space so much if the bed wasn’t a full-size and Bri wasn’t such a tall man.

“Are…” you started, “we sharing?” You hadn’t prepared for this. You couldn't even look at Brian. 

You hadn’t counted on this being a part of the deal. And, of course, neither had Brian. God… you should have asked! At the very least to prepare yourself… To prepare Brian. You felt a pit forming in your belly. 

“Yep,” he responded. “Mum figured the two of you would want to stay in the same area during your stay.”

“She and dad were okay with that?”

James leaned against the doorway. Donna stood behind him sheepishly. She had left that part out conveniently during the phone calls. “Mum was insistent. Dad put up more of a fight. They agreed though eventually.”

You looked at him with your mouth ajar, much like a fish. “Oh.”

“Is that going to be an issue?” James looked you and your fake boyfriend in the eye, a challenge.

Brian jumped to action. “Not at all. Thank you, James.”

He gave a tight-lipped smile and walked away with his arms crossed. You waited to hear his footsteps go down the creaky stairs before tearing into Donna.

She lowered her voice with her arms outstretched in front of her. “Before you yell at me, I didn’t know how to tell you. There are ears everywhere.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “You couldn't have mentioned that? Like at all?”

“I’m sorry!” She whisper-yelled. “What would you have wanted me to do? Say that the two of you shouldn’t share a room? It’ll be easier to communicate with the both of you in the same space. Could you imagine being separate for a week while you try to pull this off?”

You supposed she was right. “No, no. You’re right.” You took a deep breath and changed your tone of voice so the rest of the house could hear you. “Thank you, Donna. I think we’re going to nap.”

She matched your tone. “Of course! I’ll let the two of you get settled in!” You mouthed a ‘thank you’ at her before she closed the door behind her and skipped away.

And then there were two.

“You’ve been awfully quiet, Br- What are you doing?”

Brian was setting up his luggage next to the loveseat in the room and had found the spare blankets from the closet. He was making a bed on the couch. If he thought he was taking the couch, you’d be damned.

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

“It looks like you’re making my bed, how kind of you! But really I’m the host so I must insist that you leave your accommodations to me, Mr. May.” You grabbed the spare pillow out of his hand and kicked his bag toward the bed. You began lugging your bag close to the couch. Brian stuck his foot out and stopped the bag.

“‘Your’ bed? I’m taking the couch.” He gently grabbed your bag and chucked it onto the bed. Your jaw dropped.

“No, Brian. I’m taking the couch. You’re too tall for it.” It was true. You could fit the couch much more comfortably than he could.

“Ah, but you see, as your boyfriend,” you rolled your eyes goodnaturedly, “I must be chivalrous and relinquish the bed to my beloved.”

“You’re being an ungrateful guest,” you countered.

He winced. “Low blow.”

“I’m not above it.” Brian snatched the pillow back and began rubbing his hair on it. “What on earth are you doing?”

“Staking my claim,” he answered, matter-of-factly. His hair was a static-y mess. As if to prove his point he tossed his body haphazardly onto the couch and sprawled out, limbs and all. “This is mine.”

“You act like you laying on top of something is going to deter me in any way.” You laughed at his logic. “Being on the couch does not mean it is suddenly uninhabitable.”

“It does.” He pointedly stretched his limbs out more. “Watch me.”

“This argument is going nowhere.”

“I agree. Which is why you should just let me take the couch.”

“What if we-”

A knock on the door sounded. Brian shot up and the two of you tossed the blankets and pillow haphazardly on the bed. You answered the door with Brian hovered closely behind you.

James. He had a smirk on his face. How much of the conversation had he heard?

“Yes?” you asked through gritted teeth.

“I don’t know if I mentioned it or not but I thought I’d be thorough and tell you that this room gets rather cold in the winters. The garage isn’t insulated and neither are the walls that this room shares with it.”

“Oh, really?”

“I mean, you’re already sharing a bed so that’ll help but you might want to grab some extra blankets on top of that. Perhaps a second bed’s worth.” He peeked in to see the mound of blankets on the bed. “But it looks like the two of you have already figured that out.”

You chuckled dryly. “Yep. Thanks for the pointer.”

James hummed a laugh. “Anytime.” And like the asshole he was he sauntered away humming a Bob Dylan song. You pushed the door closed and rested your forehead on it.

“We could switch nights?” You offered. Brian knew you better than that; of all the sensations that you hated (fatigue, hunger, headache, etc.) being cold was what you loathed the most.

“Or we could just share the bed like they suspect us to…” He suggested. You looked at him. He didn’t seem to be pulling your leg.

“You wouldn’t be uncomfortable with that?” Your fingers picked at the ends of your hair.

Brian had his hands on his hips. “Not at all. Unless you would be.”

You looked him in the eye and then to the floor, your arms crossed. “I’m fine with it.”

“I guess we’ll share it then,” he affirmed.

“Yep.” You popped the ‘p.’

The two of you looked at the surrounding room and its four walls. The couch. The bed. The windows. Anywhere but each other. This was real. All the time you had pretended to be dating before you got to your parents house suddenly felt like dress rehearsals. This. This was real. And things were different.

This was showtime.

“Well, then,” Brian filled the silence. “Now that it’s settled why don’t we set up the room? We did tell them we were taking a nap. We can get settled a little bit.” 

You nodded.

“I’ll do the bed if you do the closet?”

You nodded wordlessly again and took a deep breath before kicking off your shoes and opening the closet. You heard Brian take off his coat and toss it onto the couch. You set yours on top of his and reminded yourself to put in the coat closet downstairs by the front door.

As promised you began hanging some of your items and with Brian’s permission began helping him with his. The bathroom that was conjoined to the room soon had your various shampoo, tooth brushes, and regular hair brushes strewn across the counter top and among the shelves in the shower.

Amongst the thoughts of how absolutely spoiled rotten James had been up here while you and your sister had to share a smaller room was another more alarming notion. As you put yours and Brian’s shoes down on the floor of the closet and split the drawers between the two of you your mind drifted to the small part of it that realized how naturally it looked, how naturally it felt to have the items in the same space. To have Brian’s giant shoes next to yours. To have his various hair brushes that resembled Medieval torture devices right next to your own weapons of choice. To dance and bustle about a small space in a rhythm so natural that an onlooker would swear it was rehearsed.

“You’ve been awfully pensive,” Brian snapped you out of your stupor as you pulled a dress of yours onto a hangar and set it on your side of the closet trying to move in such a way that maybe you’d forget your hands were shaking and maybe Brian wouldn’t notice your hands shaking. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“I…” you took a breath. You didn’t really know what to say. Instead you just turned and let yourself fall onto the couch back first and stared up at the blank ceiling. “This is really happening.”

“Hey.” Brian appeared into view as we walked to you and looked down. “Are you alright?”

You finally made eye contact with Brian and shook your head. Trying to will your tears back into your ducts with the help of good old-fashioned gravity you stared back up at the ceiling again.

Brian rushed to crouch at your side. “Woah, woah, woah. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

You turned to face him and sat up so that he could sit next to you on the couch. “No, it wasn’t you. I’m just overwhelmed. I still can’t believe I’m in this mess. That my family sees so much of my value in my relationships and not me. That it went this far. That I actually care so much about what they think even though I shouldn’t. That I dragged you into this.”

Brian hummed in understanding and pulled you into a hug. “Well, first of all, you didn’t drag me into this. I body slammed myself into this. You didn’t even really need to ask me to help you; if anything I dragged you into this. Remember our little moment on the driveway?”

Yes… How infuriatingly encouraging he had been. How embarrassingly frantic you had behaved. He was right. Brian was unfailingly loyal to you. If he hadn’t backed down then, when you had offered him a way out.

“You know you’re earning your ‘poodle’ title more and more,” you commented.

Brian cocked his head. “How so?”

“Lanky, tall, high-maintenance-”

“Feeling the love. Thank you.”

“But still an excellent companion and unbelievably sweet.”

Brian gave you a soft smile and rubbed his arm up and down your back. “If I was a humbler person I might tell you to stop.”

“Oh I’m stopping,” you said, sniffling back your tears and exhaling the panic. “If your head gets any more full of hot air, your hair is going to start defying the laws of physics without any assistance.”

“Yeah, you’re feeling better,” Brian quipped, feigning offense.

“I’m sorry… which one of us brought more brushes and styling products?”

“I want to make a good first impression! I may be a fake boyfriend but I still want your family to like me.” He defended.

“You’ll be great! Aside from James, you’d have to do something really out of character to get them to not like you.”

“Not this ‘be yourself’ stuff again,” Brian complained and threw his head back to rest on the back of the couch.

“It’s true. They’ll love you!” You encouraged him.

Brian’s face took on that infamous cheeky expression. Uh-oh… “Is it because I’m… so charming?”

Your face flushed in remembrance of what your mother had almost let slip. You leaned forward and covered your face with your hand. “Why did I know you were going to bring that up?”

“Because you know me better than anyone else.” He replied, matter-of-factly. 

“I think your mum might contend with me on that, Bri,” you offered.

“And I knew you were going to say that.” Brian shrugged in consideration. “Fine. You and my mum know me better than anyone else.”

“Well,” you set your hand on his knee. A once platonic gesture, it felt different this time. You continued, hurrying your way through what you were going to say so that it wouldn’t be as awkward when you stopped touching, “since we know each other so well, I’d say we stock up on rest while we can.”

“You talk like we’re going to be running a marathon for the next week.”

“Trust me, Bri,” you responded, standing up and laying down comfortably on the bed. “You’re gonna need it.”

Brian looked at you in disbelief. “Oh please. I’ve dealt with concerts for years. How bad can it be?!”

TAGS: @andtheswordwentsnickersnack​ @phantoms-lynn​

[piracytheorist]

A Kiss for Good Luck (9/15)

Summary: So this is the story of one born lucky, and one born unlucky. Fate will keep making them cross paths, but is it to bring them together, or to test them? Captain Swan AU.

Rating: T (make sure you’re okay with the warnings on AO3)

Word count for this chapter: 3.1k (48k in total) AO3

Read from the beginning: Tumblr | AO3

~

Chapter 9: Emma Swan, October 19th 2015 – May 19th 2016

The kiss doesn't get deep, but Emma's insides are melting; damn it, it feels so good and he feels so sweet. She breaks the kiss, fearing she's already gone too red and hoping the cold lights around them won't show it.

He's looking at her, and she feels she'll have to run or she'll turn into a pool of goo right at his feet.

Thankfully, his eye catches something and he turns his head to the side. Emma turns as well, only to see a woman a few yards away, about their age, looking at him with a scorned expression.

Killian just shrugs at her, and the woman seems to scoff and turn her back at them.

He turns back to Emma. “Don't worry,” he says. "Wanna add me on Facebook? It's Killian Jones, if, if you're interested... we can share favourite songs."

Emma snorts. "Like we're in high school?"

He laughs, a bit awkwardly so. "I won't stalk you if you don't add me, just saying."

Emma smirks at him, then reaches into her belt bag and takes out her phone, which immediately slips from her fingers.

"Shit," she says, picking it up and gasping when she sees that the screen cracked a little. "Shit!"

"Oh." Killian bites his lip. "I feel as if I've caused that."

Emma shakes her head. "It's replaceable. Don't worry. Killian Jones, you said?"

He looks to be debating himself. But Emma quickly opens the app, finds him and adds him. "Friend request sent," she says. "So we can chat about hot, new releases," she says, only half joking.

"Hey," Ingrid calls at her. Emma turns to see Ingrid's eyes go from her to Killian.

"Coming," Emma says. "So, we'll keep in touch," she tells him, pointing at him with her phone.

For the first time in so long she finds herself hoping that this near stranger will actually respond.

“Who was that?” Ingrid says as they start walking to their rented car.

“He's Killian,” Emma says with an innocent smile.

“You know him?”

“No, actually. We just met.”

Ingrid's brows shoot up. “You were just kissing a guy you just met?”

Her tone isn't accusative, just curious. So Emma's smile widens and she says, “Yeah. Yeah, I-”

She's cut off by her own gasp when her ankle bends unexpectedly and she falls down. For one long second she feels cold sweat at the back of her neck; first her broken phone screen, now tripping on flat ground?

“Emma?” Ingrid is kneeling next to her, face full of worry.

“I'm okay,” Emma says, collecting herself.

“Sweetheart, did he give you something?”

Emma laughs, trying to break the tension despite that small but insistent piece of her mind that's still worried. “If you're referring to butterflies in my stomach, yes.”

“I'm serious.”

“I'm alright. I just... didn't step right. And I'm a bit tired, to be honest.”

Ingrid's face relaxes a bit. “You did dance a lot tonight. Are you sure you're okay?”

“Yes, Ingrid. We were just talking and then... kissing felt right.”

“In any case, perhaps you should let me drive.”

Emma's jeans got a bit dirty and she scraped her palm after falling, but they're too small to rival the amazing birthday night she just had.

She wakes up with a bit of a headache, ringing ears, and a sore throat. But that day it's the goodbye to Ingrid that takes priority.

Ingrid promises to do her best to come to Boston for Christmas. Emma holds back her tears, hugs Ingrid, then waves her goodbye as Ingrid boards her plane.

Emma sits back. And waits. And waits.

Her flight was supposed to have left only twenty minutes after Ingrid's – she had considered herself very lucky to have found two cheap flights so close to each other – but now it's been delayed for more than two hours, the waiting chairs full of exasperated passengers and too many tired toddlers.

The food isn't great, the air conditioning hits her a bit too much and she doesn't get much rest. The lines at passport control are long, and she's happy she decided to take just a cabin trolley and not have to wait at the baggage carousel. She's already too tired, her body stiff, and she regrets not asking Ruby to come pick her up as she waits for a taxi while it's raining and a little too cold outside.

The next morning she scrolls through the line of notifications from Ruby asking her again and again to wake up and tell her everything, and it's only then she sees that Killian has accepted her friend request.

And he's active now. She checks the time – it's afternoon there and a Sunday.

She gives herself ten minutes. Her hair is not cooperating and she smudges the eye pencil on her lower eyelid.

She just shakes her head. Maybe the connection will be bad enough that he won't be able to see that much detail.

She settles herself on her bed and takes five deep breaths before calling Killian on video.

It takes a bit too long for him to answer. Maybe she should have asked first?

Eventually, his face fills her screen, and her stomach is all in happy knots again.

“Good morning,” he says. “Or afternoon? Have you gone back yet?”

“Yeah,” Emma says, noticing her wide grin on her preview, “I arrived last night.”

“How was your trip?”

“A bit more tiring than I'm used to. But safe.”

“Than you're used to? You do it often?”

Maybe she's not ready to go fully into her history with Ingrid, but he seems to catch up with what little she shares. They talk more than just their favourite music. For now, it's food, and how they'll spend their Sunday, then Halloween and Christmas...

She doesn't realize a whole hour went by until Killian, seeming a bit conflicted, says he has to go eat. He's staying with his family, and his parents are 'already experiencing retirement by eating early'.

Emma laughs, swallowing her own bitterness. She keeps it at bay until the call ends, then she sighs, looking at her cracked, black phone screen.

He's with family. He doesn't have to move countries and choose whether to celebrate holidays with them or with friends.

“Ugh,” she tells herself. She doesn't actually know much. For all she knows, he's had it as bad as her.

Work isn't going well. There are enough cases to go by, but they wear her out every day. Ruby is busy with work and her new girlfriend, and David's mother has gotten sick and the Nolans don't have the time to invite Emma every Sunday anymore.

At least, she manages to talk to Killian twice a week. She knows she'd like to talk more often to him, but she's still a bit insecure. Not just about whether she's annoying him, but because she feels like an old pessimist again, and caring for this will only end up breaking her heart.

She can't help it, however, especially when half the time it's him calling her, staying up late because it's already evening when she finishes work, then they spend the next at least two hours equally listening and talking.

She still gets to see Ruby and the Nolans occasionally, and she still gets enough to go by. But her one constant these days is Killian.

Ingrid tells Emma that she can't issue a visa in time and she won't be there for Christmas. Emma knows her bank balance isn't enough to afford a last-time trip to Norway; the Nolans will spend the holiday with David's mother in a small town in Maine, and Ruby is taking Mulan to New York City. Bless their hearts, though, they offered. It was only the white lie that she found super cheap tickets to Norway that convince both Ruby and the Nolans to not cancel their plans.

She gets a gift from Ingrid – a hand-sewn sweater that apparently got coffee spilled on it during shipping and she has to wash it. It shrinks and the coffee stain hasn't left. She doesn't dare use the word 'luckily' to describe the fact that her other gifts weren't ruined. Killian sends her a collection of seashells, with a note telling her that he gathered them himself.

She spends the little money she kept aside on a grand meal and many boxes of pop-tarts for Christmas. She calls Killian as she eats one of them, teasing him about eating her favourite “sugar-coated sugar,” as he called them once.

It's still late for Killian, but he talks to her even longer this time.

“What about your family?” she asks.

“It's four in the morning, Swan. If anyone's awake they're probably sneaking around the kitchen for a 'very-late-night' snack.”

She's the one falling asleep to him talking to her that night.

Just five years ago, Emma would watch the ads on TV and everywhere else talk about “family time”, or a “time to share the love”, and they would wash over her like everything else did in her life. She was the one everyone else counted on to not take the days off during holidays. But since reconnecting with Ingrid and making new friends in Ruby and the Nolans, Emma got slowly used to being part of something. A family, a company, where she learned to appreciate that time again. A time when she would go shopping for someone other than herself, when it wouldn't be a given that she would work on a holiday, when she would expect it just for the extra time and coziness she would live with someone else.

Now the commercials hit as hard as they did when she was seventeen and homeless; eighteen and in prison; nineteen and alone.

Being loved and thought of has really spoiled her, hasn't it?

She barely has the heart to call Ingrid when it's the latter's time to change the year. They wish each other a happy new year, and she feels glad that there's a lot of celebration going on where Ingrid is, so Ingrid doesn't get the time to truly see how difficult it is for Emma, to see what she's missing and all for a stupid lack of money.

At eleven in her own time, Emma breaks down crying in her bed.

She feels so alone. The past few years of reconnection with Ingrid and having new friends seem to weigh nothing over the emptiness she feels now. She didn't even have the heart to decorate her house this year.

She lies curled up in bed, hoping she can fall asleep before she surely hears the neighbors start the countdown, but, of course, no such luck.

Instead, four minutes before midnight, she gets an sms from Killian. An sms?

Turn wifi on, he tells her.

Breathing shakily, her throat thick with sobs, she turns it on but is still surprised to immediately receive a video call from him.

She checks the time, and tiredly tries to do the math. It's four minutes to five in the morning there. What is he doing?

She accepts the call, and her first glimpse of Killian is his tired but smug face. As he gets a good look at her, though, his face falls.

“Oh, Swan...”

She bursts into sobs again. He doesn't speak, but from the few glances she gets of him until she calms down, she knows he's waiting patiently.

She wishes she could reach her arms into the screen. She knows that his would hold her back.

She knows.

She gets her breathing under control and she looks at him, wiping away her tears.

“Thank you,” she says, and he smiles softly.

Damn it, that smile. She almost starts crying again, but he takes pity on her and looks somewhere away.

“It's thirty seconds now. Do you want me to count with you?”

“Yes, please.”

He smiles again, still softly but a bit more cheerfully now.

The connection lags two seconds, according to her neighbors' countdown. But the two seconds between the cheers across the wall and Killian popping a confetti cannon in front of the camera are theirs and theirs alone.

“Happy New Year!” he says.

His smile is so bright. Her tear-stained face in the preview looks so out of place, it feels wrong.

“You stayed up,” she says, voice harsh from crying.

“I... woke up. I mean, I went to sleep a bit early, and even I would say two is early for New Year's, so I snuck in a few hours of sleep before the alarm went off.”

He did it for her.

How wrong is it to wish she could kiss him now?

Her words will have to do.

“Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“I wouldn't forgive myself if I let you change the year alone. Especially after you told me what you didn't tell your friends. Losing a bit of sleep is nothing.”

Her friends. He says it as if he's not one of them.

Well, he's not in that group of friends, but he belongs in that category.

Only that, though? Just a friend?

Once again, he stays up with her. He's properly prepared – snacks and music and lights and, well, soda, considering how late it is there – and she just feels stupid all she has is the sugar-coated sugar.

“Perhaps I chose the wrong flavor,” he says. “If I visit Boston one day you'll get me your favorites and I'll taste them all.”

Her heart flutters at the idea of him visiting. She's tempted to correct his 'if' with a 'when'. Because she wants him there. She wants it to be certain.

But she decides to keep it low for tonight. He already gave her the best surprise she could have had.

Perhaps she loves him.

But she's known better than to hang onto hope.

The last thing she remembers seeing is the view from his window, at the tiny show of the sky getting brighter.

The last thing she remembers hearing is him singing Auld Lang Syne.

None of them ask, and none of them organizes anything more, but their video calls become daily. Depending on Killian's schedule, of course, they talk from ten minutes to three hours at a time. Even on very busy days, they manage to sneak in at least five minutes of talking, even if it's just voice chat.

Gerda is having health issues, forcing Ingrid to not visit at all nor call often, and Emma's work is still hectic. She manages to meet Ruby for drinks or the Nolans for dinner, but it's not on a constant basis like it used to be.

The only constant in her life is coming back tired from work and talk to Killian, who will stay up and chat no matter how late it is for him.

And he once told her he's an early bird.

It feels silly, but Emma can't help thinking of it as a compromise he's making to himself for her sake.

Killian tells her about his childhood; about his mother dying, his father leaving, and then nearly losing himself after losing his brother as well. How getting adopted saved him.

Emma tells him about Ingrid saving her. How she took a disillusioned kid with no family and gave her love and a home.

She tells him about being alone at seventeen and leaning on the wrong person. But her admitting that she has done time comes differently.

He tells her about losing his first love and resorting to things he is not proud of, including getting himself into a relationship that he knew would hurt him.

“I've done some stupid things myself,” she tells him.

“Well,” he replies, “I have a criminal record.”

She shrugs. “So do I.”

He actually raises his eyebrow. “Well, you can say we're equal in that.”

“Mm. I've done time.”

“Oh. Okay. You win.” He seems super casual about it.

“You don't mind? That I've been in jail?”

“Well, did you kill or otherwise harm someone innocent?”

“No.”

“Then, if you've moved on, who am I to judge?”

“What did you do?”

“Hacking, breaking and entering...”

She was a thief herself, but she didn't expect to find such a kindred spirit in him in that way – as well. “What? What for?”

His brows furrow. “Nothing too dangerous, and I was too stupid to think rationally, and it was a very difficult time.” He pauses for a while, then looks at her seriously. “I was an alcoholic. I've been totally clean for about six months now. It had only lead me to make more stupid decisions.”

“Well, you're working through it, right?”

He smiles at her, that smile that always threatens to rip her to pieces. “Aye. I never believed it at first, but it gets easier.”

It's always easier when one is not soul-crushingly alone, she thinks.

She had underestimated him and how much he understood what being alone can do to someone. Conversation flows easier the more they talk, and in early May, he surprises her by telling her he's thinking about visiting her.

Emma immediately offers to let him stay with her.

She fakes a broken connection to recover from the smile he gives her. Jesus. How will she handle it when they're face-to-face?

They come to a mutual understanding; neither thought light of their first kiss, but both knowing of each other's pasts, they decide to take things especially slow.

She hasn't been so excited to count the days for something good since the first time Ingrid visited.

She drives her Bug to pick him up from the airport, but it breaks down midway there. A long string of curses and many calls to a service center later, she manages to send Killian a text letting him know she'll be late.

After a tow truck takes her car away for service, she takes a cab for the rest of the way to the airport, only to find that her message to Killian hasn't been received, and that his flight has just landed, nearly an hour late.

However, he looks fresh and cheerful when he exits arrivals. Even from afar, she can already feel his smile turning her knees into jelly. She steels herself to at least walk normally to him.

They embrace and it's as if a weight is lifted off her shoulders. And if she judged by his face, it looks the same for him.

His eyes trail to her lips, and she gives him a quick peck.

[gulfportofficial]

Gp Gp gp 

I wasn’t going to pre-share this on tumblr bc it really should be in context but it’s just taking me so fucking long to finish this and I want GP readers to know what’s up.  Anyway, tw for rape trauma; gulfport scene 

He slid his fingers under my pajama bottoms, against my skin. “You’re so beautiful,” he said. “So very beautiful. I love you, you know.”

“Don’t tell me, show me!”

He kissed me again, messy and deep, and rolled me on top of him. His hands felt me all over, excitedly, under my shirt, over my ass again. He both fondled and held tight and there was something so very sweet about that, that he hid himself beneath me, as if he were sheltering, nesting. He buried his nose in my collarbone and inhaled. I gripped his body back and ran my hands along it.

He wriggled down and pulled my pants down with him, kissing and caressing me as he did, then easing my thighs apart to nestle his face between them. I giggled and he spread my legs a little wider. He kissed there. He sunk his teeth into the very top of my thigh.

It hurt. It hurt a lot and I gasped and felt my skin prickle and come alive and I waited for the delight of it to take me over. But it didn’t. Instead it burned so much that it was if my spirit pulled back from it and I jolted out of myself and sailed away.

It was such a shock that my stomach lurched up into my mouth. With it came the memory of human acid burning there, when I’d had a real body, and fear came too. It was dark all around me and a smell rose and smothered me and I caught glimpses of tattered gold hair.

I whimpered. “Louis,” I said. My heart beat hard. I thought it was my heart. “Louis?”

“Hmm?” he said.

“I’m not sure I can.”

“Can what?”

“I don’t think I can have sex, I don’t want to have sex. Please stop.”

When I said it aloud I was sure I’d throw up in earnest and I had to turn my face to the side in case I did. How could I have done something so stupid? I’d said that when I could have endured it. It would have been momentary! And he’d insist on knowing and I didn’t want anyone to know!

I couldn’t even resolve my face. I wasn’t inside it. I couldn’t make it sit spitefully to protect myself, I didn’t know how it read to him. His movements seemed small and unconcerned and painfully out of step with my apocalypse. He smiled somehow and he shifted himself out from between my legs and wiped his mouth and after a moment he leaned up and kissed my cheek. I could feel my thigh hemorrhaging open and pulling me down with it and I knew I would bleed to death now, bleed to human death as I had already done, but this time I would wake up even more monstrous than before, and he kissed my cheek!

I could hear myself making a sound. I tried to stop. I had to be healing, surely. I had to be.  

“Too tired after all?” Louis said, in a normal, impossible voice. He lay down next to me and pulled the covers up.

My voice sounded stupid. “You’re not mad?”

“No?”

“Well, I mean, I… I mean, I started things.”

Louis frowned. “I did too, but it doesn’t matter.”

“You really don’t mind?”

“I don’t mind,” he said. “What’s the matter? Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine, I’m…”

He was making his concerned face. The one I knew so well, with his brows together and his lips in a neat little line. Predictable. I tried to anchor myself to the familiarity of that face, my annoyance with that face, to tell myself that it was really him, only Louis, and that I knew how to deal with him. But then he reached out and stroked my hair back from my face and the touch was so gentle that I felt it like a blow. “I want to throw up,” I blurted.

Louis blinked. “Oh,” he said. “I’m sorry?”

“I want to yell at you,” I said desperately. “I’m not yelling at you!”

“Thank you?”

“I’m going to… I don’t know that I can… Louis!”

“It’s alright,” he was saying. “It’s alright. Can you tell me what’s happening?”

He absolutely was angry with me. I wanted to shove him away from me and slice him open and tell him how dare he feel anything about me at all. His eyes blazed but he spoke so gently. So gently! It made me furious! It felt like a trap. Like he was trying to worm his way into me.

“I didn’t want to say that but I didn’t know what else to do and now it feels bad!” I said, uselessly, desperately. My voice was so high.

“Didn’t want to say to stop?” Louis said.

“Yes!” I said, and now my voice was even worse. It was ragged and too loud and I prayed my mother wasn’t awake or nearby enough to hear it.

“But it’s alright,” he said. “I don’t mind at all if you want to stop, everything’s alright.”

He wouldn’t trap me with that either. I’d tear his face off before any trap snapped shut, see if I didn’t. The muscles in my hand were ready to do it. They would do it! He’d be sorry! “I didn’t have a good reason!” I yelled. “I just! I got in my head and… listen, it’s fine now, it’s fine, you can start again.”

“No, I…”

“Do it!” I said. “Stop looking at me! Do it!”

“Lestat,” Louis said. He swallowed. His eyes seemed to shimmer for a second or two. Then he blinked. “Lestat, I don’t want to do that and I’m not going to.”

“Then don’t be mad!”

“I’m not… Lestat, you are allowed… you wanted to stop.”

“And I said you could start it again, just get down there!”

“No, I don’t…”

“Stop being angry with me, then! I said you could do it!”

“I’m not angry at all, or if I am it’s only that…”

“Don’t make me wait for it! Whatever punishment you have for me just hurt me now! Otherwise get down and do it!”

He moved his body up. Suddenly. One fluid motion and then he was covering me. I bucked against it and I would have pushed him off, but he cleared his throat and it made him wheeze and that forced a whining sound out of my own throat because paradoxically as much as I wanted to kill him I also didn’t want him to suffer any hurt at all. It stopped me as surely as if my back had been broken in place, and I couldn’t speak.

“Mon petit Monsieur,” Louis said. The closest he’d ever gotten to a pet name. “I’m so very sorry. If I’m… I’m very… of course I’m not angry with you.”

I felt myself choking again. His eyes were red-rimmed for some reason, like he was trying not to cry. I felt the smell of that blood in my throat, the real promise of real violence, but he was speaking still and I had to listen. It hurt to do so. “Louis!” I said.

“Please, please understand,” he said. “You have done nothing wrong. I am not angry with you, not at all.”

“But how are you…” I said but I didn’t know what I was asking. “Louis! How are you…”

“I’m…” Louis said. “Oh mon petit, come here.”

For a moment the impulse to break him open at the throat overwhelmed me. But then he moved his hands up to my hair and I buried my face against his body and he folded himself around me all the way. I dug my fingernails into his skin, but he didn’t seem to notice. I couldn’t even be angry now. All I could do was press my face into his naked chest like an animal.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, from somewhere out in the world where I couldn’t see him. “Mon dieu, I’m so sorry. I’m…”

“Nothing’s wrong,” I said.

“Nothing’s wrong now, and you have done nothing wrong. I’m… oh, I’m…”

“It’s alright, Louis,” I said. “You didn’t do anything either.”

“No,” he said. “No it isn’t that at all, I’m...”

“Louis,” I said. I tried to say it firmly but I couldn’t make it sound firm and it didn’t stop him.

“Lestat,” Louis said. “Please. You do not have to do this if you don’t want to. I’m so sorry you don’t seem to know that.”

“I know it, Louis!” I said, and as panicked and plaintive as my voice was, it could have been so much worse and I have no idea how I managed to restrain it. My mind raced in utter desperation and the speed of it had made me violently sick again. My voice seemed to say all of that, though it was also hard to say anything. “I just got confused. Don’t go on about it.”

“Mon petit monsieur,” Louis said, “please, it’s perfectly alright.

I didn’t know what to say to that. “Don’t call me that,” I said.

“You don’t like it?”

I love it with all my heart. “No, I hate it.”

“Then I won’t say it. But please, I must... you don’t owe that to me, or to anyone, and I’m so…”

I wrenched myself up out of his arms. I looked him dead in the eyes. “You don’t have to do any of this,” I said. “It’s fine.”

Louis gave me a skeptical look. I glared at him. It should have destabilized him but it didn’t. He just put his hands to the side of my face and sighed.

I let him have his hands there and I tolerated the sigh, as difficult as that was – they were concessions, concessions to the greater goal – but I wouldn’t have him doubt me. “It’s fine, Louis,” I said. “Stop fussing.”

“It is not fine at all.”

“It’s fine! I just… I tripped myself up. I did it because I’m an idiot. There’s no more to it than that.”

“And it has nothing to do with what we discussed yesterday, or with the fact that your mother is here?”

That hit me in the chest like a cannon. I don’t know how I didn’t gag. Perhaps I did. I jerked away from his hands at any rate. I sat up. “Shut up!” I said. “It’s got nothing to do with anything.”

Louis frowned again. “I’m not going to press it now,” he said. “I’m not equipped for that. We figured that out, I think. I’ve got the subtlety of dynamite on this matter, and I apologize.”

“But you do have an opinion.”

“Yes.”

I wasn’t sure if I wanted to laugh in his face or punch him in it. Both options felt equally hysterical. “Suppose you just tell me your opinion, Louis.”

“You know what it is.”

“Say it,” I demanded. “Say whatever stupid thing it is you think.”

Louis cleared his throat. Then he cleared it again. His hands had followed my body when I’d moved, but he’d taken them away now to cough into them. How insulting.

“Louis,” I said.

“No, I…”

“Louis,” I said, and my tone, I hope, conveyed how exactly how little I wished to fuck around.

It did, evidently. He met my eyes, and his expression was not, I thought, altogether kind. “There is…” Louis said. “You must know this. There is a relationship between your assumption of desert on certain traumatic issues, and your desire to have people love you by any means necessary. And it is culminating in... in this behavior.”

“What traumatic issues?” I said, furiously, but we both knew I knew exactly what he meant. The fury was more desperate ritual than it was actual accusation, but I hoped it would protect me anyway. I drew it around myself like a magic cloak. I suspect Louis observed that, because he spared me and didn’t answer my question. At least not directly.

Still, what he did say was almost worse. “You must listen to me,” he said, reaching out his hand again. I slapped it away but he went on. “Please. Please listen. You do not need to… there is no requirement for you to have sex you do not wish to have.”

“I know that!”

“You don’t know it,” he said. “You are demonstrating that you don’t. And you must know… that I don’t… surely if nothing else, everything that’s past must make you understand. I’ve loved you even when I couldn’t stand you. You are so dear to me, don’t you understand that?”

“Oh sure,” I said, my chest heaving against the bile. “You know, you don’t always have to mention that you couldn’t stand me.”

Louis ignored that. “You don’t have to do anything to secure this. You don’t have to favor me.”

“I’m not favoring you!” I said. “I like fucking! I don’t know what happened just then!”

“Yes,” he said. “You do.”

“Shut up, Louis!” I said. My intestines would crawl out from between my teeth if he didn’t stop. “I know all of that! I just confused myself. It’s not important like you’re making it. Shut up.”

“I am sorry,” Louis said.

“Stop being sorry!” I said. “It’s my own fault!”

“How could that possibly be?”

“Because I shouldn’t have said anything,” I snapped.

Louis’ face collapsed. “And I wouldn’t have known,” he said, and just like that I wanted to weep.

It’s actually strange to me, upon reflection, that I didn’t. I suppose it was too great a feeling for mere tears. Tears would have required some clarity or some human feeling and I had none. My chest had filled with one impossible sob but I could not and did not release it. Maybe, I thought, he might actually not have known.

“I can’t tolerate that,” Louis said. “I don’t want that. Please. I must tell you that… please know that my love for you is not conditional upon… that you are not required to… you don’t deserve to have to... I know you think you… please…”

He had nothing to say. He’d already run himself aground. How typical of him. How feeble and uninteresting and pointlessly intellectual. My mouth was sour and I wanted to leave, but some part of me was compelled to stay and make the point. “No,” I said. “I would have wanted to again soon enough.”

Louis frowned again. He wrinkled his nose up. He opened his mouth but then he shut it again.

“I would have,” I insisted.

“That’s… well…” Louis said. “Ah. That, I think, is a problem.”

“That’s not a problem!”

“Shh,” Louis said. “Shh, it’s alright.”

“Stop trying to make me calm down, Louis! I’m perfectly calm! It’s not a problem! I know my own mind and I’m telling you, it’s fine!”

Louis took another pause. He seemed to gather himself. “If that is how you feel,” he said, “then we’ll stop and start again when you do wish to. There’s no reason you must… play through…”

Did he play golf? For some reason that question was stupidly pressing and I wanted to ask it. I think he does sometimes actually. But it wasn’t relevant here. “Why are you trying to make this some big and stupid deal, Louis!” I said. “I just got a little in my own head! I shouldn’t have said anything. I regret saying anything! Because now you’re making it into an event and it just isn’t one!”

“Is there perhaps a little truth in what I’ve said?” Louis asked me, in the softest voice I’d ever heard. It twisted my guts into knots again just to hear it and I turned my face away.

“No,” I said.

Louis’ tone didn’t change. “Will you please consider,” he said, “just consider, that’s all I’m asking, that some of your instincts on this matter are a little wrong?”

“No!” I said, furiously. “I absolutely will not. Because they are not.”

“But don’t you…”

“Shut up, Louis!” I snapped. “You’re so full of bullshit. If you’re weak and stupid enough to beg for love you cannot be fussy about the way people give it to you!”

Louis looked straight at me, but he didn’t need to. The moment I said it I knew what a fucking idiot I’d been. What an absolute buffoon. With that one pathetic statement, I’d managed to say something so imbecilic and so revealing that he’d won against me with in this patronizing, aggravating, nauseating argument without even having to do it himself. I bit down on my lip, hard, and tried to roll away. Even my own blood made me feel sick.

Louis wouldn’t let me get away. He caught me by my waist and turned me back around until I was facing him. I fought him every inch of the way. My hands were in fists and I had opened my mouth to bite him like an animal, but I didn’t. Because then I was facing him and his expression arrested me. He didn’t look like somebody who had won. He didn’t even look like someone who disapproved of me for being this much of an idiot, though I was one and he might reasonably have disapproved. “Lestat,” he said, his eyes huge and bright and imploring, “Lestat. Please let me tell you this. You did not deserve it. You never could have.”

The sob in my chest was still stuck there. Aching and with no noise and I did not weep. I thought it would choke me not to weep. And then all I could think of were the worst of his implications.

“Louis,” I said. “Louis is this… yesterday were you… was this… did you cry because you didn’t want to and you didn’t know how to make it stop?”

Louis looked surprised. “Excuse me?”

“Louis, was it?”

He smiled, in a strange, incredulous way. “No, that was much worse,” he said, dryly. “It doesn’t matter. Let’s think about you at the moment.”

He said it like he was joking. I think he did it to comfort me. But it didn’t sit right with me. It wasn’t the time to joke. “Louis, please,” I said.

“That’s not relevant now.”

“It is! Because if it wasn’t that then what was it?”

“It’s not necessary to explain.”

“Please try. Please. I have to know. I can’t… I can’t bear it, Louis. Please.”

“Well, perhaps it’s similar.”

“Oh darling!” I said. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!”

“Shh,” Louis said. “Be calm.” He brushed my hair back again and I let him. He stroked my face and I let him do that as well. How strange it was to have him pet me like this, how strong it made him seem. I couldn’t have bitten him now if I’d wanted to, I was that spellbound, and how afraid and how safe that made me feel.

And how panicked that combination made me. “Louis!” I said.

“Shh, it doesn’t matter.”

“Louis, please…”

“Look,” he said. “Do you really want to know about that? Is that what you really want to talk about now? Wouldn’t you rather just try to rest?”

“No.”

“It’s morning.”

“Louis,” I said. “No.”

He thinned his lips, but I kept staring at him. I might have even made my own eyes wider, sweeter, on purpose. In fact I think I did do that because it made him frown in that particular way he does when he is annoyed by me but too sympathetic to say it. I didn’t relent though. I kept at it until finally, he said., “would it really ease your mind to hear about it?”

“Yes.”

“Alright,” he said. He sighed.

“And?”

Louis moved and shuffled down so he was lying beside me. Even this momentary absence hurt me and I reached out my hand for his. Thankfully he took it. He held it over his heart and I shuffled down too. “Alright,” he said. “Look.”

I looked. I waited.

“I am sympathetic to this concept of… reciprocal desert, I suppose,” Louis said.

“Louis,” I said. “You are correct that it is morning. And that I’m very tired. Please pontificate less and explain more.”

He gave a desperate little snort at that. It was painfully adorable and I felt a stab of real affection at it. It was the first thing I’d felt in some time that wasn’t fear or nausea and I clung to it. I squeezed his hand. “I’m listening, chéri.”

Louis closed his eyes. He took a breath through his nose before he opened them again. “Look,” he said, once again. “I’m not sure you understand how… little sustained sexual experience I had before you and I became acquainted… how little sustained experience I had with sex I even enjoyed.”

That both surprised me and didn’t. It wasn’t news, but it also wasn’t true enough for him to say in this candid situation. When I’d met him he’d been depraved. “What about all your sex workers?”

“My what?”

“Your whores, Louis. It’s the term people use now. It’s polite.”

Louis appeared to take that in. “Look,” he said, “the fact that I enjoyed… enjoyed… liked, ah… that I… I enjoyed… ahem… Jesus fucking Christ, I beg your pardon. I…”

I waited for as long as I could, but it seemed that he wasn’t going to make it. “Louis?” I prompted.

“… that I enjoyed the, ah, culmination.”

“Oh, you liked getting off. You liked when you came. Sure.”

“Yes,” Louis said, sharply. He flushed, but then he pushed it back and forced himself onward. “Yes. Obviously. I had a human body, as base as it was. But the fact that I liked… that aspect of… ah… look. It did not negate that I could seldom bring myself to be… present… during the act itself. And there were some… brief exceptions in my youth but as I had aged that had become… increasingly difficult.”

“Then why keep doing it at all?” I said, probably stupidly. “Why didn’t you just jerk off?”

It was stupidly. Louis looked at me in exactly the way I deserved for speaking so stupidly. But he went on. “Because I didn’t… look. It isn’t that I didn’t want to… have… look.”

“I’m looking, Louis,” I said. And please, dear God, won’t you finally tell me what I’m supposed to be looking at.

He cleared his throat again. “When I fell in love with you,” he said (and I loved hearing him say that, because no matter the circumstances I always will), “when I decided to follow you as I did, you were so new to me, you were like nothing I’d ever felt. I told myself that it was entirely because you were my first vampire. That you were spellbinding to me only because of that. I knew that this was not true, but it is what I told myself.”

“But what do you mean?” I said. “I mean, thank you, because… well, I mean, just thank you, it’s nice to know that I’m actually somehow unique to you instead of just, you know… your symbolic supernatural end, but I mean… that doesn’t seem to warrant all of this anxiety, it’s just nice to know but…”

“Alright,” Louis said, again, cutting me off. “Some of the reason I decided to go with you, that what I felt for you was so remarkable to me is that…”

“I’m delightful.”

“You are but...”

“But what? I’m delightful.”

“You are,” Louis said. “You are also another man.”

It was not something I had expected him to say. I hadn’t known what to expect, certainly, but this absolutely wasn’t it and I found I had to calibrate myself to hear it properly. To do so felt like threading myself through time, as if my body were in multiple places at once, and it was already so difficult to stay inside it. Because it hadn’t even occurred to me, but it felt so uniquely strange and so very deliberate that it had not.

I doubted he could hear any of that when I spoke, however. “You didn’t like women you mean? Is that what you mean or are you still talking about that choir boy thing where you’re not allowed to like any of it?”

“I’ll never know,” Louis said. “Was it about the people I did it with or only about myself? Original sin or very specific? I don’t know. I’ll never know. The man I was no longer exists.”

“Well then why does it matter?” I said. “I’m not trying to be hard, I just don’t… I want to understand.”

“Because this intimacy I have with you now,” Louis said, “it makes it difficult to read things against how they used to be. Particularly… some sexual things.”

“What?” I said.

I knew I was out of sync with myself but this did seem genuinely confusing. Louis frowned again. He flushed again too, but that just seemed to make him angry with himself. He looked down, away from me, and he bit his lip. “When you would… when you’d push me. And dominate. And demand. When it would be a part of a fight or part of some despairing series of events. When it hurt me. I think it gave me permission. To do something I had always wanted to do.”

“You mean…” I said. “You mean you’re allowed because you’re not wanting to, you’re letting me.”

“Yes,” Louis said, looking up. “That’s what I mean.”

I sucked in a breath. Part of me knew how wrong it was of me to press my advantage like this, to use his sympathy to draw these confessions out of him, but another part knew I’d never hear this any other way. As painfully and embarrassingly candid as he’d been in the therapist’s office, this, I knew, was too personal even for that. This was about him, not us. And I’d known, I wanted to say. I’d known I’d played this part in your self-flagellation all along, but never known how to ask it.

“But isn’t this just…” I said. “Aren’t you just arguing that you asked for what I did to you? Because I don’t agree with that, I don’t think that’s right, the logic doesn’t hold. If I “didn’t deserve it” then you didn’t either and I’m not going to accept that you did. There aren’t different rules.”

“No,” Louis said. “I’m parsing something quite complicated here, and it is not the same. I have made conditions. There are certain things I will not permit you to do. Certain ways you are not to speak to me, impositions, including sexual impositions, that I will not let you make. That problem of mine, it does not… it does not permit all else.”

That was enormous. It was patently unfair that he said it in this moment because it was so enormous and I was already so weak. But it was also necessary that he said it, because it was true. I swallowed hard but I did not let myself react. “Yes,” I said. “Yes, I know.”

“I will not accept things as they used to be,” Louis said. “I was about to say that I cannot, but that is not the truth, and that is the crux of what I am saying here. The truth is that I will not. I have learned, I think, to consider that I might value the fact that I do not want to. But I also hesitate because I fear it’s… Bartleby the Scrivener in a very particular setting. Because if I’d prefer not to, I’m not sure I can prefer anything. Does that make sense to you?”

I was too tired to figure out what that meant, or which part of this I was most upset by. All of it, certainly, but also by each part of it individually at the same time. My heart clenched and unclenched around each particular and it made it hard to look at him. But I made myself do that anyway. Because it didn’t matter how I felt. What did matter was finally hearing what he had to say, because this would be the only chance I would get to hear it.

And I loved him, of course. I know you think that I don’t, but I do, and I loved him then, more than I ever had, loved him in the marrow of my bones, and if it hurt him then it hurt me too, and I wanted to know. “No, Louis,” I said. “It’s good to have wants. They don’t automatically lead you to complete existential failure.”

“However,” Louis said.

“However what?”

“However,” he said, “There were elements of that dynamic that I suspect… produced… something I… possibly enjoyed. Sexually speaking.”

I held my tongue. That was difficult to do, since I had two equally weighted thoughts, and one was a delighted “really!” and the other was “no fucking shit, Sherlock” in a sarcastic manner. Neither would have been appropriate.

Louis went on. “I don’t like the relationship it was part of. And that’s not a criticism of you, or not only of you. But… but.”

“I understand,” I said. “I’m with you.”

“Are you? Do you?”

“Perhaps not, but I’m following the line you’re drawing. Can you… do you mean you want me to… what do you mean?”

“I mean I’m not sure I know how to do it without the penance built in,” Louis said. “I’m not sure I know how to enjoy sex at all without some elaborate punishing construction I’ve built myself to make it acceptable. Some Kafka’s penal colony of my own making. And so part of me sincerely wonders if, by insisting upon this different relationship – and I do insist – I haven’t spoiled sex for myself forever.”

“Louis,” I said. “That’s absolutely fucking certifiable.”

“Is it?”

“How is it that I am the crazy one if you’re the one who thinks these things?”

“Well, you’re not…”

“That’s absurd. You’re insane.”

“Are you sure?” Louis said. “Are you really sure that the concepts are not mutually unintelligible?”

“No, I’m not letting you do this,” I said, before I caught myself. “I hear it. Shut up. I’m not letting you make some intellectual mess of an argument you think I’m too stupid to understand. Well, I do understand, and it’s your argument that is stupid, not me.”

“I don’t think that…”

“You’re absolutely fucking filthy, you depraved slutty idiot. You’re the horniest person I’ve ever met. Nobody and nothing on this earth could have stopped you from liking sex. These past few months should have proven that. You’re just a little bit anxious about it at the moment, and that’s absolutely alright, but I assure you it will just be temporary.”

“I beg your pardon,” Louis said. He was clearly affronted, and I knew I’d gone too far, but I wasn’t about to let him derail things.

“Nobody is punishing you!” I said. “There aren’t all these traps you imagine! It’s alright to like sex. It’s alright to like sex with a man! You’re allowed to… you’re allowed to be alive and to like to fuck and it doesn’t excuse anything! You haven’t done anything wrong, Louis!”

Louis stared at me. “You put it so… you’re so certain.”

I knew what he meant. I knew how much he wanted to say something arch about having told me so. But I wouldn’t talk about that now. I wouldn’t! “Don’t you dare get bogged down in if we’re allowed to be alive as we are,” I said. “I am too tired and I love you too much to entertain that. You are allowed, because I say so.”

“I wish it were that easy,” Louis said.

“It is that easy,” I said. “I love you with the whole of my ugly little heart, Louis. And so you are right to be on this Earth, if only for my happiness.”

“Yes, but then that begs the question of whether you… whether any of us…”

“Shut up,” I said. “If you’re going to argue that I am not right to be here, I will weep. I am too fragile for that this morning, so don’t... If you’re going to make me discuss… if you’re going to make me… if you’re going to bring up… if you do love me at all, then please grant me the kindness of saying that you’re at least glad I’m alive.”

He held more firmly on my hand against his chest. “You will never know how glad,” he said. “But that…”

“Then shut up,” I said. “I’m almost already crying. Shut up.”

I meant it. I’d fought so hard not to cry all evening, but it felt so close to me now that I even felt myself sniffling, like a sad little child. It is possible that a tear or two did fall, actually, but I certainly didn’t acknowledge them. Even then I refused to let myself be that pathetic.

But “please don’t,” Louis said, so tenderly. He had let go of my hand, but both of his were upon my face again, softly. He kissed my cheek, high up on the bone, like he’d done to the girl at the bar. “Please don’t cry, monsieur,” he was saying. “Everything is alright.”

“Then don’t do this,” I insisted. “Just… we are here, Louis. We’re here, and I want to be here with you, and I want you to want to be too.”

“I do want to be here. Very much.”

“Good then,” I said. “That’s enough. Please let it be enough.”

He didn’t answer that. He did stoke me though. Softly, feather light. I still felt like crying. I shut my eyes, though I found I had to open them again to implore him.

“We can do better,” I said. “We can do those things when we want to do them, we can talk about them and manage it like adults. I’ll fuck you exactly like you want me to and if it’s awkward for a while then, well, it will just be a little awkward for a while. We can tolerate that, can’t we? We have the language.”

Let’s do it now, I almost said. But thankfully, I didn’t.

“I don’t…” Louis said. “I don’t find that easy. Discussing such… fleshy concerns. As you know. It’s not my forte, I’d say if I were you.”

What a way to say it. “I know, chéri,” I said. “I know you don’t. But some things are worth doing, even if they are hard. Haven’t you said that? Aren’t you saying that to me?”

“I wish I didn’t feel this way. It’s hypocritical of me, really, to let my own shame restrict what I communicate and what I do not, when I say what I say to you about yours.”

“Yes, well. It’s always easier to dictate than to do.”

He winced. “I am sorry,” he said, and he looked like he meant it. But I wasn’t going to let that be the end of it that.

“Why are you still ashamed?” I said. It felt so strange to ask him that. A bedtime confessional, mirrored throughout time. Lovers like us and like I had been, stretching back centuries asking the same questions. “Is it all because it’s lust or because it’s your vampire life? Or is it because… is all of this also because we’re both men?”

“I think some of it is,” Louis said. “I know what you’re going to say about that, that it’s a stupid, mortal hang-up that I shouldn’t have, and you’re right of course, but there it is just the same. A stupid human anxiety that I have always felt and that somehow still dominates my un-life.”

“You don’t really believe you’ll go to Hell for it,” I said. “Not you.”

“I never think anything so specific. This… sense of punishment is far more global than that. The sense of having made disorder in the world. Of being at odds with it. Of being so fundamentally incorrect that I have brought all of this upon myself. I don’t know.”

“Oh Louis,” I said. I moved up on my pillow so I could kiss him. He did let me. There was an edge of reluctance to it, or of despair perhaps. But he did let me.

“Oh Louis,” I said, again, stroking his cheek with my thumb. “Oh my love. You make everything so dramatic and symbolic when sometimes it’s just small and sad.”

He pressed his lips together in a resigned way. “Perhaps that’s so.”

It was polite of him not to point out my hypocrisy. Though it’s also possible he was too caught up in himself to notice it. “We’re still consumers,” I said, following him there. “And you’re still a Catholic.”

“I am not. You are, I’m not.”

“You absolutely are,” I said. “Don’t be stupid. You know you are. Don’t you know that?”

Louis didn’t answer me. He seemed far away, contemplative. But then he turned his face back to me, set his sparkling eyes upon me, and for some strange reason, I held my breath. “In San Francisco, I did try,” he said. “It was the writing, and the music, and that it was entirely new to me, but also it was… I wanted to go where I could love men. Where it would not be entirely out of place to do so. A lot of things were beautiful there, and I was so past caring about any of it. It was easy to be convinced. I tried to let myself be convinced. And sometimes I succeeded.”

“I know that,” I said. “You met Daniel in a bar. It was 1976, Louis. You talked to him in a bar in the fashionable part of San Francisco in 1976. Do you think I don’t know what kind of bar it was? That I don’t know what you went there to do?”

“I went there to kill someone,” he said. “To murder someone in order to sustain my own cowardly life.”

“That’s not all,” I said. “And you know it isn’t and you just admitted it too. You went there to kiss boys. And you think it’s the same thing, but it isn’t. Because it’s alright to kiss boys, Louis. God doesn’t think like you think about it. That’s a mistake. We were taught something that is not true.”

“Perhaps,” Louis said. And he looked strange and embarrassed, but then he smiled. He looked at me and he smiled. “You’re not afraid of anything, are you?”

His gaze was one of admiration, and ordinarily I would have liked it. Ordinarily when he looked at me that way, awed and trusting like that, I felt pleased with myself and pleased about the world. But it seemed wrong now. It seemed not truthful.

“You think I never…” I said. “I made up my mind not to care, don’t you see? I wasn’t going to let something so stupid as people’s opinions stop me if I was in love. It’s not because I never… of course I was afraid.”

I’d expected that confession to have more impact than it did. It made a lot of impact upon me to say.  But Louis spoke as if he hadn’t heard me. “It’s just that you always seemed fearless. As if you were daring people to try something. As if you thought it would be funny if they did.”

“People died for it, Louis,” I said. “Even in Paris. Let alone in the country.”

“Of course I know that, but…”

“And my father… said… he told me… when I…”

I couldn’t finish that. But it seemed I didn’t have to. I suppose Louis had heard me at last, because he curled his hand into mine and squeezed it. I squeezed back. His fingers felt warm to me, and I didn’t know why they did. His eyes were so wide when he looked at me. Quietly. Waiting. I felt the need to be soft with him, and I felt, again, the need to tell the truth.

“So I understand you,” I said. “I’ll admit that I do. I’m not going to say what you think I’m going to say this time. Not anymore. I’ll admit it instead.”

Louis kissed me this time. He moved forward to do it and I held my breath again, it was that sweet. “It’s you,” he said. “You. You were not fearless, but instead very brave.”

“No, I was just in love. There was nothing brave about it. It wasn’t a choice to be in love.”

“Of course there was something brave about it,” Louis said. “Isn’t that what we’re doing here together, discovering just that? Doesn’t everything we’ve talked about tonight tell you? To love another person, to commit to loving them truly and honestly is an act of such bravery, just because to be in love is to accept that you not only want to be alive, but that you have designs on how you want to live?”

“You really think so, don’t you?” I said. It made me grin. No doubt incredulously, though I would have tried to temper that, just a little. Nobody else could have made it that dramatic, but that wasn’t his fault. “You really think it’s brave just to be in love.”

“Yes,” he said, seriously.

“You really think that?”

“You’re brave to be here with me,” he said.

“Oh, stop.”

“You’ve been brave all your life,” he said. “And I want to be brave as well.”

My grin fell right off me. That declaration had pierced my heart and I couldn’t be anything but serious. I must have stared at him. I must have gazed in utter wonder. I could never love somebody as much as this, I thought. Nobody could ever be so gentle and so earnest or sway me so fundamentally as he did without even trying to. Certainly, nobody else could have made me admit any of these soft and vulnerable things. Nobody else could have made me want to admit them.  

“But you’re already brave, mon cher,” I said. “Everything you’ve told me is brave. I’m more proud of you than you’ll ever know. And I want to fuck you like you want to be fucked. I don’t want you to regret any of this, what you’ve said to me.”

“Well,” he said, and he then grinned himself, suddenly, and it startled me. I’d forgotten he could do that. I’d forgotten his face could even move. “Perhaps we can negotiate.”

“Negotiate what, Louis? I told you what I’d do.”

“Because you like it as well, don’t you?” he said. “Being put in your place, during sex.”

I felt like I could blush. My heart felt hot enough to make me. It’s even possible I was blushing, though perhaps not very likely. I certainly spoke like the sort of person who blushed, however. “Louis!” I said. “Louis!”

“Oh, isn’t it true?”

“No,” I said.

“Not true at all?”

“Shut up!”

“What a sweet little discovery that was,” he said. “What a sweet little thing you are.”

“Just you shut up right now.”

He smiled so indulgently. “As you wish.”

I scowled, but I didn’t really mean it. “Well maybe you make me feel like I could be sweet,” I said. “Like maybe I’m not all over evil after all.”

“And you make me feel that I could be interested for all eternity,” he said. “Even if nothing else was interesting, I could always be discovering more about you. You can change, you know. I once thought you couldn’t, but you can.”

I didn’t even have the wherewithal to be embarrassed at him saying that. Obviously, telling you about it now I am so embarrassed by it I have earnestly considered not telling you, and the fact that I am telling you has begun to make me wish I still had the capacity to make earnest suicide attempts with the possibility of success. But I wasn’t embarrassed then, not at all. This is all so saccharine and I so very soft that it seems that it could barely have happened. And it did happen. Worse was about to happen. But somehow, in that time I was not ashamed of anything. I just stared at him, stunned and in love until he kissed me.

I kissed him back. We pressed our bodies together and entangled each other in our arms and kissed and kissed and kissed. I gasped from it. When we broke apart, his face was pink and warm and his arms were still around me and I wanted to stay there forever. I felt as if I had already half bled into him, but I wasn’t afraid. It made me honest in a way that hurt. “Louis,” I said. “I do like it but it… it makes me…”

“I know,” Louis said. “I know.”

“I didn’t even say what it was!”

“You’re so…” Louis said. “You’re just so… I want to be… more careful with you.”

“You’re careful already.”

“No,” Louis said. “Listen to me. I will. I will be careful with you. You’re so dear to me.”

I couldn’t say anything to that. I think my face must have done something dramatic, because Louis smiled at me sympathetically and touched me and told me it was alright. “Be calm,” he said. “It’s alright.”

“I know it is,” I said. Snapped, really. But he didn’t react to that.

“It was brave of you to stop,” he said. “I know it was hard for you. I’m glad you did.”

Oh, but I had no chance coming out of this alive. My heart had cracked and the liquid of it lit my chest up from the inside and my eyes welled and I had to blink my tears away again. “Louis…”

“I know,” he said.

“No, but Louis…”

“I do know, monsieur.”

“Your petit monsieur.”

“Mon petit monsieur.”

I buried into him. I pushed my nose into the crook of his shoulder. “Is it really brave just to be in love?”

Louis seemed to hold all of his breath inside his body for a moment. “Yes it is,” he said when he let it out. His arms were around me, strong.

“Are we really in love then?” I asked him.

“Yes,” Louis said. “We are really very much in love.”

So you can say what you will about our thoughts and prayers. Don’t you see it? Don’t you understand? Between us, we earnestly believed we could clean up the gulf.

[priorireverte]

Congratulations Ashley!

Your application for Andromeda Tonks has been accepted. She’s going to have a lot to deal with. At least it looks like her spouse is on the horizon soon! Unless that just causes more problems.

Please look to the checklist for the next steps and reach out if you have any questions!

OUT OF CHARACTER

NAME & PRONOUNS: Ashley / she/her

TIMEZONE: EST

ACTIVITY LEVEL: I would consider myself to be fairly active! I work a full-time job which is 3 12 hour shifts per week, so I’m usually not around on those days other than mobile. However, I’m usually always around on discord if needed. On my days off, I’m always active unless something else comes up!

ANYTHING ELSE: N/A to triggers! I’ve been writing and roleplaying since 2006 aka the days of myspace. I’ve been roleplaying on tumblr and in the Harry Potter community since 2009. Also ! My rp partner is applying for Ted and we’ve discussed their background together and are a cohesive unit, LOL!

CHARACTER DETAILS

NAME: Andromeda Dorea Tonks (nee Black)

BIRTHDATE: 12 February, 1954

DEATHDATE: N/A

GENDER, PRONOUNS, and SEXUALITY: Cisfemale, she/her, pansexual

BLOOD STATUS: Pureblood

HOUSE ALUMNI: Slytherin

OCCUPATION: Healer at St. Mungo’s. After the deaths of her husband and her daughter, Andromeda only remained on as part time staff due to her commitment to raising her grandson. With her son-in-law back from the dead and expecting his son, Andromeda has picked up more shifts to distract herself from her mixed bag of feelings.

FACECLAIM: Rachel Weisz

CHARACTER BACKGROUND

POSTBELLUM

War is ruinous. It’s evil and endless. It’s something that Andromeda has learned. Now, she’s lived through two wars and managed to lose almost everything. During the first war, Andromeda refused to choose a side. She remained strictly neutral. Supporting the Death Eaters was what her family expected from her. However, she didn’t share the same beliefs. Supporting the Order, however, felt like the ultimate betrayal. Something that she couldn’t explain. So, she remained neutral. When the second war began to brew, she supported the Order because of her daughter’s involvement as an auror. She and Ted were never official members of the Order, but they helped where they could. This later led to the both of them being tortured for information by Death Eaters. The two were shaken, but otherwise okay, thankfully. Andromeda didn’t turn her back on the Order after this. If anything, it only made her support stronger.

When Nymphadora learned that she was pregnant, Andromeda was overjoyed, but afraid just the same. Edward went on the run due to the persecution of muggleborns and Andromeda had never been so afraid in her life. Ted was the only family that she’d had. The only person that she’d relied on for years. When the news of Edward’s death came, Andromeda tried her best to keep a brave face in front of others. She knew that the war was far from over and she couldn’t bear to upset her pregnant daughter.

Nymphadora gave birth to a bouncing baby boy and everything seemed right, if only for a moment. They honored Edward in the name and he had equal parts of her daughter and son-in-law. Andromeda begged Nymphadora to stay home, to not go to the Battle of Hogwarts, but she went anyways. The news of her daughter’s death at her sister’s hands broke Andromeda completely. She had a newborn, now, that she was responsible for and in the first few months of his life, she wasn’t sure who cried more.

If it weren’t for Teddy, Andromeda doesn’t know if she would have been able to go on. Her grandson gave her life purpose. She had reminders of the two people that she loved most and Teddy became the third. She’s taken to part time at the hospital while she’s cared for him the past couple of years.

The news of the dead coming back is all the rage and Andromeda is skeptical. Despite the skepticism, she was also hopeful for a very brief second. Then, she was disappointed and then her anger took another turn. She hoped for her husband. For her daughter. For her cousin. So far, she’s gotten none of them. The news of Remus being back has placed a pit inside her stomach that she can’t handle. She wants to be happy, but she also abhors the thought of losing her only link to her daughter, to her husband. She doesn’t know how she’s going to cope.

PERSONALITY

(+) Ambitious: Andromeda excels at anything she puts her mind to and more. Failure is not an option for her. It is a trait that she learned from her father.

(+) Eloquent: Growing up in one of the pureblood elitist families, Andromeda was taught how to be very persuasive. She knows how to use this trait and although she doesn’t use it much, it is always in her back pocket when she needs it.

(-) Stubborn: Andromeda’s stubbornness will one day more than likely get her into trouble. When she decides on something, it is rare that she changes her mind. She does not like to admit that she is wrong and rarely does so.

(-) Conflicted: Andromeda knew that befriending muggleborns would upset her family. It was against the beliefs that she had always been taught. Since her Hogwarts days, she was always incredibly conflicted. She felt a strong sense of duty to her family, but felt unable to meet their demands. When she fell in love with Ted, she knew it was the final nail in her coffin. Andromeda no longer struggles with the choices that she made. She sticks with them. However, she will always be conflicted over the bond she still feels towards her family.

ENFJ – The Giver - “Popular and sensitive, with outstanding people skills. Externally focused, with real concern for how others think and feel. Usually, dislike being alone. They see everything from the human angle, and dislike impersonal analysis. Interested in serving others, and probably place the needs of others over their own needs.”

Andromeda has the fatal flaw in which she decides that others needs are more important than her own. It was only magnified when she became a mother herself. Her people skills were groomed to perfection when she was forced to attend the numerous pureblood galas as a teenager. As a healer, she enjoys being able to put back together the hurt and heal those that are harmed by those closest to her blood relations.

BRIEF OVERVIEW OF FAMILY

Andromeda Dorea Tonks nee Black is the original family disappointment. Cygnus and Druella prayed for a boy the second time around and when Andromeda came out a girl, it was where the disappointment started. Growing up, she always felt like the odd one out. She wasn’t strong and fiercely loyal like Bellatrix. She wasn’t graceful and beautiful like Narcissa. She was the middle child through and through. Despite the disappointment and the short comings that she could not prevent, Andromeda’s loyalty was to her family. The Black family had a strong name within society. They were revered. A part of the sacred 28. Any child of the Black family would act like they were one.

She grew up with pureblood beliefs force-fed to her and being taught to believe nothing else, she actually thought that they were the only way of life. Andromeda was sorely mistaken, however, and she didn’t realize how much so until she met Ted Tonks. Edward Tonks changed everything for her. Ted Tonks was a muggleborn boy and although she didn’t want to admit it, she was smitten. Her resolve faded during their years at Hogwarts and eventually, she couldn’t deny the chemistry anymore. The rest of their years at Hogwarts were filled with letters written in invisible ink, heated meetings in empty classrooms, and plenty of sneaking around.

She struggled with her feelings for Ted and her loyalty to her family for years, until one day she chose Ted. She found out that she was pregnant and she knew it’d be the final nail in her coffin. Andromeda chose Edward and their unborn daughter and she was promptly burned from the Black family tree. Family is important to Andromeda; however, she’s learned over the years that chosen family can be more important than blood relatives.

Despite all of this, she still feels a sense of loyalty to Narcissa. A feeling like reconciliation wouldn’t be so bad. Bellatrix – however – she knows they’ll never repair their relationship. Not after what was done to Nymphadora.

After losing her husband and her daughter, Andromeda clings to her grandson. A reminder of what she’s lost – in the likeness and the name. The idea that she’s going to lose him too is killing her inside.

HISTORY

What was their life before the end of the war in ‘98 or before their death? What was important and formative for them?

Hogwarts: Andromeda’s early life was filled with piano lessons, ballet lessons, and etiquette training. She was to be the perfect pureblood daughter, even if she was a disappointment. Her parents spoke of their beliefs and taught them to their daughters, accepting no questions. Until Andromeda went to Hogwarts, the pureblood beliefs were all that she knew. She knew that she was above everyone else because she had pure blood and that she should never question it. The moment that she was sent to Hogwarts; everything changed. The things that her parents had taught her to believe – they simply weren’t true. The muggleborns and the halfbloods weren’t different than she was. In fact, there were some that were truly brilliant.

For the first few months of her education, she kept her nose up in the air because she knew her older sister was watching her every move. Andromeda pretended like she wasn’t curious to know more. Like she didn’t have questions. It was only the moment that Bellatrix looked away that she discovered everything she knew to be a lie.

Edward Tonks: When she met Edward Tonks for the first time, Andromeda didn’t give him a second thought. It was only after months of studying and tutoring that things began to shift. She began to think about him moreso than she’d like to admit. Their gazes would meet over the school books because neither of them was paying attention to their texts. Soon, the two began to sneak around, knowing the dangers that this posed for the both of them if they were to be caught. Thankfully, they weren’t caught until Andromeda chose Ted. She chose him over her family and never looked back.

Ted changed everything for Andromeda and she doesn’t deny a moment of it to this day.

Healing: Despite the arguments from her family, Andromeda chose to take a healing internship at St. Mungo’s after she graduated from Hogwarts. Her parents were not pleased and that was putting it lightly. Why should she work when all she needed to be good for was a quiet, proper pureblood wife and mother? Her parents had the perfect pureblood for her to marry, but Andromeda didn’t want any part of it. She decided to do what she loved and being a healer was everything that she needed. She needed to do some good in the world to cancel out all of the bad that was happening around them.

Nymphadora: Finding out that she was pregnant with her daughter was the final nail in her coffin. It was the final sign that she’d never be welcome on the Black family tree again. The moment that she found out that she was pregnant, Andromeda was terrified. She didn’t have a great relationship with her mother when she was growing up. She didn’t know how to be a mother. How could she take care of a child? Despite her fear, she told Ted and she’s not sure she’s ever seen him so happy before. Andromeda is fearful her entire pregnancy. She despises herself for it. It’s something that she hides. However, the first time that her daughter is placed in her arms, it’s something that comes naturally. Her love for her daughter is something that she can’t explain, but she knows that Nymphadora is the person that she loves the most in the world. Her new favorite job is being a mother.

All of her life, Andromeda tries to protect her daughter. From the evil things in the world. She tries to shield her from the things that will hurt her. The Black family. The war. When Nymphadora decides that she wants to be an auror, Andromeda supports her, but knows that she can’t protect her baby from everything. Inevitably, she’s unable to.

OOC EXPLORATION

WHAT ARE YOU MOST LOOKING FORWARD TO? I love the idea of this roleplay and bringing back the dead. I think it’s an amazing idea and I cannot wait to interact with others and see the interactions that will play out. I love the passion that everyone seems to have for writing and I’m excited to possibly join the fun.

ANYTHING ELSE? Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/sortoutherpriorities/she-walks-in-beauty-andromeda-black-tonks/ Boggart: As a child and a teenager, Andromeda’s boggart was failing her parents. As it ultimately came true, Andromeda’s boggart eventually changed to the loss of Ted and Nymphadora, which also came true. When she became the primary caregiver of her grandson, her boggart changed once again to the loss of Teddy.