#cause like i legit have pretty much everything one could want like my life is so fucking privileged in every way

[roaringroa]

bad day again

[cairavende]

Worm Arc 20 thoughts:

I legit have restarted this post at least 10 times. I just. I can't even figure out what to say. What an arc. Holy fucking shit what an arc.

The last vestiges of Taylor's civilian life are swept away in one smooth motion.

I could have read another 5 chapters of Emma getting her shit handed to her though.

I've been waiting for something to come back and bite that girl since Arc 1. So I'm just riding high off of that.

Taylor getting all upset because it isn't real justice is silly though. Girl you've been fighting a broken system from day 1 and you have been doing that by breaking the rules. This is just the same thing.

Also god dammit Greg. Just had to go and run your mouth.

I mean sure Taylor could have possibly solved this issue without going to school herself.

And she could have just not gone to the office with Emma.

But blaming Greg is easier and more fun. God dammit Greg.

I had to lose my mind a bit at Taylor talking about how there was no gang graffiti on the school walls TEN SECONDS AFTER WALKING PAST GRAFFITI FOR THE UNDERSIDERS. Like, that's gang graffiti hon!

Dennis trying to help Taylor with Greg when he didn't know who either of them are is funny. Dennis seeing Taylor named as Skitter 15 minutes later is HYSTERICAL!!

The second Taylor was entered into the computer system it was pretty obvious that Dragon was going to show up, given what she said in her interlude in Arc 10.

And knowing she was going to show up it should have been obvious that HE was also going to show up.

Even if he wasn't palling around with my robot daughter it makes so much narrative sense for him to be there when she is outed. Full story arc, all that jazz.

And yet, I still wasn't quite expecting it. Cause I hate that man so much that I just had to make myself believe he wouldn't show up.

Mother fucking Colin

RoboCape himself

He has the nerve to show up and then he starts APOLOGIZING? And it appears to be sincere? Fucking dammit man you were so easy to hate for so long! Why you gotta mess with me like this?

STOP DOING THE RIGHT THING AND LET ME HATE YOU GOD DAMMIT!

siiiigh

And then of course we have to talk about Dragon.

Dragon who didn't want to do this but had to.

Except that Colin had a code push ready and she could have told him to do it at anytime. But she was willing to do what she thought was wrong instead of doing the update. Until she got inspired by Taylor's actions.

I love my robot daughter exactly as much as my bug daughter, but I am disappointed that she was almost willing to go through with everything. Happy she fought back though.

And if Colin's hacked together code did any permanent damage I'll destroy the man.

Taylor learning that Dinah - either by force or by choice - gave the PRT numbers to let them know to come after her at the school was heartbreaking to watch. She just wasn't ready for it at all, poor child.

AND TAYLOR'S SPEECH THOUGH!

HOLY SHIT!!!

Sort and simple and she fucking rallies the students to her. Against the heroes!

Gotta be one of the best moments in Worm for sure. Even if every Arc after this is a banger that's still gonna be a hard moment to top.

AAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!

And someone gives her a hoodie to help her hide and just aaaahhhh!

AND THEN AFTER THEY GOT AWAY AND ALL THE STUDENTS WERE LIKE "You saved my dad" "You stopped Leviathan at the shelter" "You fought off the SH9" AND SHE WAS JUST OVERWHELMED BY IT ALL?

HOLY FUCK JUST AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Also for real though Dragon is free. Like sure it's taking her some time to recover and she can't talk right now (which like I get it, we all have non-verbal episodes sometimes), but as long as nothing goes wrong she is free. I'm so fucking happy for her.

But also I'm terrified cause I know what happens to full AI's with free will in most things. Worm is very different from most things. But I'm still worried about my robot daughter.

Also I never cared much for Danny but obviously it still sucks to be him here. The scene with Taylor saying goodbye with the butterfly was emotional.

Oh oh and! Taylor talks about the butterfly being her "last contact" with her Dad. Very much bug as an extension of self. It's a shift she's been making.

Even more so there's a point where she is trying to get out of the school and she gets to the door and has a bug clone on the other side and says "my hand pressing against my own, separated by an inch and a half of door". Like, the bug clone hand is just her hand. I fucking love the shift compared to how she talked about the bugs early on.

Oh and also Greg totally has like, a Thinker 1 power or something. Pretty sure I mentioned that last arc with his interlude but mentioning it again now to be sure.

Stan interlude thoughts:

Oh my god I hate this man I can't stand him I hated him from the 3rd sentence of the chapter and I was always right to do so!

Seriously. 3rd sentence (or maybe 3rd paragraph which is technically the 3rd, 4th, and 5th sentences I guess). I read it and went "fuck off Stan you're clearly a pretentious dick" and then every few sentences it just became more confirmed!

Just the ways he talks about Nipper. Like. I can rephrase what he says to say the exact same thing except not being a asshole when saying it! Instead of "She was weak and unsuited for the field but she at least tried" just say "She was a hard worker despite being assigned to a job she did not ask for"! It's so fucking easy dude!

Anyway Stan is a jerk.

I loved the way this interlude rolled through different people all watching the same news report. It was a really good way to cover this major story event and let us see how so many other characters were reacting to it.

Also I'm sure all those Slaughterhouse Nine clones aren't going to be an issue later right? Or the fact that there is specifically only one clone of Gray Boy instead of 10 like everyone else? I'm sure that's fiiiiine.

Accord interlude thoughts:

Oh. Oh my. Uhhh. Is it hot in here all of the sudden? Anyone else feel that? No? Just me?

sweats

Oh ok Citrine definitely feels what I'm feeling. She knows what's up.

Just like. Look. Accord is bad ok. Not just cause he's a villain but clearly he'll kill for the smallest cause. And he's in a spot to fuck with my daughter and her polycule so like. Yes. He's bad. I do not like him. I want him to leave. I don't think they should work with him . . .

but . . .

OH MY FUCKING GOD HOLY SHIT PLEASE ACCORD I LOOK GREAT IN PURPLE AND I LOVE DRESSING FANCY AND I'M VERY GOOD AT BEING PROPER I WON'T MESS UP AT ALL I'LL BE THE PERFECT MINION PLEASE!

. . .

cough

Soooo anyway. How about that Butcher huh? That sure is a wild power. Instantly made me think of Glaistig Uaine's power. Very different but reaches into that same base bit, the idea that some part of a dead parahuman can be held onto.

Also holy shit Skitter was so badass in this scene I loved it.

Holy shit Accord is with Cauldron. Or at least closely aligned. And like of course he is it makes so much sense. He's too useful for them to ignore.

I am really curious to see what Accord's power does when he's confronted with a really complex problem. End of the world, doors to another dimension, higher dimensional beings, all that jazz.

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

I keep thinking about the Batman x Danny Phantom x Legend of Zelda: BOTW crossover

Like, who do you think would cross dress to get into Garudo town? Would Danny need to wear the Rito clothing like Tim or does he keep his cold resistance/ regain it by then? < That would be interesting to have as a separate power. How many years would they be stuck in Hyrule? In my first playthrough I went nuts exploring everything the Great Plateau had to offer and I legit spent two real life months uncovering every secret I could. Do you realize how many "in game days" that was?

I'm sure Danny and Tim wouldn't spend that much time up there but they sure as heck aren't leaving anytime soon.

Speaking of anytime soon, Breath Of The Wild has a sequel coming out (Tears Of The Kingdom) and I want Tim and Danny to also go through whatever fresh hell is awaiting us there. Tim starts making or commissioning his own weapons cause he's tired of using spears that break after fifteen hits.

Speaking of using spears instead of his usual bo staff, do you think Tim would be okay killing monsters? They're pretty much demons and are pretty mindless to be honest. I know Danny would be squeamish about it at first.

How do you think they would react to Prince Sidon, Teba and the others? Ohhh, they would probably be careful to hide thier ears in this au so people don't freak out. Fae rules say to search shadows and count the teeth, but I rarely hear to check the ears.

By the time Danny and Tim get back to thier home dimensions they have at least 11 safe houses together a large arsenal of weaponry, five horses, several horse drawn wagons, futuristic tech courtesy of Tim's and Dannys combined skills, a magical tablet that Tim refuses to let out of his sight (Zelda isn't getting that back, is she?)

Another thing, I want them to have the dlc. Imaging Tim wearing Majoras Mask. Monsters are already confused by Phantom but now Tim is giving off ominous vibes too, lol.

I want Danny to rescue Tim at some point by riding on a bear and having the bear fight with him still mounted on it. It was at this moment Tim knew he was in love...and that Danny was out of his freaking mind.

I love the batfam getting protective of Tim when he returns because the guy he disappeared with all those years ago (or any amount of time you want thats to dimensional time shenanigans) gives off evil eldrich vibes. No one but Jason approves of thier relationship. Jason doesn't feel the vibes and is helping them any chance he gets. He likes Danny and thinks he and Tim are a good fit together.

I also think its hilarious if they treat Tim like Daddys little girl when in reality Tim is the top in this situation. Let Tim have top energy. He's still shorter than Danny when they grow into adults and Tim is more blushy but hes the Top.

Also I want Bruce's reaction to finding out Danny and Tim are engaged.

I have more but this post is getting long

[fan-fantasies]

A Little Push

Warnings?: drug use (weed), I think that's it.

A/N: woah, I'm alive. It's crazy. It's been rough wanting to write literally anything, but here I am. Heather and I have been hyping each other up like crazy so I'm super excited. Just as a fair warning, this is not proof read, I'm super lazy and just don't want to. Regardless, I do hope you guys enjoy this, it was fun to write. -Breezy

Vermont was always lovely this time of the year, the leaves would change and the true beauty of nature would emerge for a small portion of time before winter would come along. You'd lived in Vermont for the majority of your life, having met your best friend, Heather, at a young age. She was the main reason you knew you weren't alone.

It was hard growing up being different, even if it was fairly easy to hide, but kids were ruthless and they were always willing to spill the tea to anyone who would listen. Nevermore was the one place you knew would be best for you, even after high school, a university for those who were different made you feel at ease. Though, even at a place full of outcasts, you couldn't help but feel different. As a siren, it was almost certain that you would have the confidence of God and the charm of an enchantress/enchanter, but you had found it very difficult to rise to those expectations.

Bianca was a prime example of who most people believed you should be. Everything about her is beautiful, her skin, her eyes, she just radiated beauty and honestly you envied her.. Maybe that’s why you never really spent time with the others, instead hanging out with Heather and the other gorgans. All of them were chill, never expected much, plus they were extremely funny. The notorious stoners were fun to watch as they got high, hell, it was fun to join them on occasion. They were just so excepting. Maybe that was why you and Ajax had gotten so close. To Heather it was pretty apparent you had a thing for him, you of course denied that. Even if you did, dating had never been in the cards. Being an outcast does that to you.

"Dude, come on," Heather began, "just ask him to hang out, hell, ask him if he wants to smoke a joint with you. He won't think twice about it." She rolled her eyes, "plus, he'd be hanging out with you and I know for a fact he'd never turn that down."

You sigh, putting your head down on the table you were currently sitting at. "Don't say that, you'll get my hopes up," you grunt, "no one ever wants to hang out with me, besides you." You whisper.

You hear Heather sigh in what you thought was defeat. You were wrong.

"Ajax! Come here!" She shouted causing your head to snap up, now looking in the direction of where she called. Sure enough Ajax came jogging over.

"Hey Heather, what's up?" His eyes met yours, "y/n, hey." He nervously said.

Before you could speak, Heather responded, "Y/n wants to hangout and have smoke, you in?" The way she said it was calm, forward but not in a pushy way.

You watched as a smile grew on his face, "Hell yeah, mine or yours?

You swallowed, "Y-Yours?" You stammer bewildered that he agreed.

"Great, stop by a little later." You respond with a simple nod before he walked off. You sat there stupefied, did that really just happen?

"Told you." Heather smirked, her arms crossed over her chest.

"I can't believe you."

She laughed, "I think the word you're looking for is, thank you." She teased.

Your expression must have shown your anxiety, Heather's face softened.

"Look, I know it's hard to believe someone other than me would want to hang out with you. Let's be honest, I'm not the most social butterfly either, like I legit could turn people to stone but please," she began, "give him a chance, at least be his friend." She begged. You listened to your friend, you'd been through everything together and you knew she'd never do anything to hurt you.

You nod, "okay, I will. Thank you."

She smiled, "Now, how about we go back to yours and get you ready for your date." She teased.

The hours leading up to meeting up with Ajax seemed to drag out causing anxiety to bubble up inside of you. You were finally gonna hang out with Ajax, alone. The idea of all of this made your heart flutter, it was finally happening. You'd snuck out of your dorm, down the long, and seemingly endless, corridors towards his room. When you arrived, you knocked softly hoping to not alert anyone around.

The door swung open with haste, Ajax stood there in his casual clothing with a small smile on his face.

"Hey come in," he spoke as he stepped aside letting you enter. He had some quiet music playing in the background, nothing that you recognized though.

"Did you kick Xavier out?" You joke, seeing as though it's just him.

Ajax rubbed the back or his neck, "would you believe me if I said no?"

You laugh softly, "no." You admit. He chuckled softly, not speaking again. He motioned you over to his side of the room, "make yourself at home, I'll go get a joint for us."

You hesitated before slowly walking over to his desk, taking a seat in his desk chair. You could hear him shuffling around, opening and closing drawers before coming back over. He had everything ready to go, he must have prepared ahead of time.

"What, you don't wanna sit with me?" He joked with a smirk before he flopped on his bed.

You felt your cheeks heat up but you nervously laughed, "Buy me dinner first." You threw back. A wide grin spread on his face, one that even the Cheshire cat would be proud of.

"Maybe after." He winked before motioning you over. You comply, standing from your current seat and making your way to his bed, now sitting across from him.

He took the first step, lighting the joint and taking a few shirt puffs before offering it to you. You carefully take it from him, bringing it to your lips and inhaling. The familiar burn filled your lungs as you held the smoke in for a few moments,then allowing yourself to relax before exhaling. You take another hit before handing it back to Ajax. The atmosphere was comfortably silent, the both of you just enjoying each other's presence.

"I'm really glad you wanted to hang out." He admitted before taking another puff.

You glanced over at him, "really? I know I technically didn't ask but I've wanted to hang out. We don't get to just hang out together, usually Heather or Xavier are with us." You ramble looking at your hands.

He chuckled, "you're right," he began, "which is why I'm glad." He explained.

You take another drag before responding, "I never thought you'd want to," you blurt, traces of smoke passing by your lips.

His eyebrows knit together, clearly confused, "why's that?" He questioned curiously.

You weren't sure how to respond, you sat in silence for a moment.

"If you don't want to tell me, that's fine. Just know, whatever it is, you can trust me." He mentions calmly.

Your mind began to swirl with thoughts, you weren't sure if it was the weed finally starting to take effect.

"It's just," you begin, "I've never been good around people, Heather's always been my only friend since we were kids." You explain.

"You've known Heather for that long?" He pressed.

You smile softly, "Yeah, we grew up together, lived in the same city in this wonderfully cold state." You tell him, "it's kinda crazy to think about." You giggle. "But she's been the only friend I've had, once my abilities as a siren began to show most people avoided me. As sirens, I would say we are pretty charismatic but I've never seen myself as that."

Ajax remained quiet as he listened to you.

"Hence why I don't really hang around with the other sirens. I consider myself an outcast among outcasts."

Ajax shook his head, "well, if it makes you feel any better, I'd say you're the better of them." He put the, now finished, blunt in the ashtray, "in fact, I'd say you're the most attractive of them." He admits.

You felt your heart stop, had you heard him right? "W-what?" You stammer looking at him.

He lit another joint, "Yeah, I think you're beautiful " He clarifies before putting the joint between his lips. You look at him, taking in his features, his gorgeous eyes, kissable lips and the few unmissable snakes that would peek out from his beanie. It was a few moments before he noticed you looking at him.

"What?" He asked.

"Nothing… I just…" You stammer, "can I kiss you?" You ask, having a sudden burst in confidence. Thank you weed.

He didn't hesitate, he placed the joint in the ashtray before moving it. You scoot closer to him, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. You were nervous, and clearly so was he. You decided to just take the leap, closing the distance between the two of you, your lips brushing against each other. Your heart was hammering against your ribs as he pressed his lips now firmly against yours. The kiss was slow, warm, it sent electricity through your body. It was a strange feeling, but not anything you were against. It was clear Ajax was a bit hesitant, you weren't sure if it was nerves or something else, regardless you couldn't help but let out a giggle before pulling away. You could see the faint blush on his cheeks, his eyes slightly glazed over due to the effects of the weed. A dorky smile grew on his face, he didn't speak for a few moments.

"Please tell me we can do that again."

You laugh, "Yeah, I'd like that "

[loopeyfluff]

hihi I come from twt and I wanted to let you know that your art and comics mean so much to me, specially the "and you just have to see it" one. i reread it every time I find it around and idk, it means so much to me since i found it just at the right time in my life and it really gave words to my understanding of not just WHY I love one piece, bur why I love Art

I had no clue you had tumblr but it's such a nice surprise!! never stop making art, please, it impacts peoples lives in wonderful ways that even if you don't know, it'll still be important and beautiful and it'll be worth it

at least it impacted my life a lot, even what could be seen as just a few comics

you're definitely one of my favorite artists, period? your skill is impressive both on a technical level and also storytelling wise, idk!! I just really enjoy it and I think more artists as cool as you should know that their work is appreciated!!!!!! if you think about it it's your fault for making the majority of my favorite pieces of op fanart on the fandom!!!!! so yeah

thank you so much for everything, really

sorry for the rambling tho

Oh my godddddddd oriyrgehehehehehhdhd this is SOOO LOVELY??? THIS WAS SUCH A WONDERFUL THING TO READ THIS MORNING MY HEART FEELS SO FULL OF WARMTH!!!! AGHHEUWUAGSGGSHS THANK YOUUUUUU SO MUCHHH!!!

First of all, thank you for finding my tumblr and sending me such a nice ask! This absolutely made my day, I always struggle understanding and conceptualising how memorable my art's presence is on the internet, but it always means the world to me to hear when my art has deeply affected them!!! To hear that you think about my art like, even weeks or months after you've seen them, it makes me really happy :)

Second of all, I'm so glad I was able to reach you with that comic in particular- I really think it's probably my magnum opus XD I was feeling really damn bummed out the month before I read one piece cause I was in exam period, tho I was feeling really depressed even after i got outta exam period. One piece got me out of that tho, and then I made that comic in my end of exam period the next year to remind me that things were different now!!! I literally poured my entire soul into that comic, that comic is legit just, me. So to find that so many other people resonated so hard with that,,,, gahh im just so glad it found you in a time of need as well :)

Third, YESS I LOVE MAKING ART SO MUCH!!! I hope you keep staying to look at whatever i create, because i have so many things i want to cook up!!- in fact im cooking up a pretty big meal rn ouo ehehhehehe. tho its not like. original. but im still putting my all into it 💪

Fourth, I'm seriously so flattered that I'm one of your favourite artists! Genuinely thank you so much for taking the time to let me know, I hope you have a wonderful week :)

[bisluthq]

to the anon who said if joe hates those events why be an actor is kind of funny cause a lot of my favorite actors hateeeee the promo part of the job kind of find it ridiculous like Billie Piper whose an excellent actress (probably one of the best in England) has stated she finds celebrity/fame to be toxic and doesn’t want her personal life really to be discussed/wishes she could just act and do her job and not deal with the everything of being an actor. Same with David Tennant (in terms of he didnt really talk about his dating life until his marriage and even he didnt start telling personal stories until recently) like UK actors tend to be like i just want to rlly do my job. Joe even said his favorite actors he knows nothing of their personal life and he thinks if u know too much it can take you out of their performance. Bon Iver even just started hiding his face. Some people love being creative and their job demands them to do stuff they dont like

exactly. Being a celeb and being an actor is not the same thing. Cillian Murphy moved back to Ireland to not be bothered because London was too annoying and he’s still chasing major highs. It’s pretty normal lol for his demographic. Even Tom Holland who is very much a celeb is more private than most Swifties would like lol and kept the relationship with Z hidden for YEARS. They only hard launched when they were outed by a pap and they still disappear from time to time when not promoting and tbh I think if they hadn’t been as serious as they were by the time they got papped, they’d have tried to deny/disappear. It just didn’t make sense since it was legit serious by then.

[verdantglow]

Okay so @plumadot’s posting about her D&D Traffic AU has made me remember how much I love my Dungeons & Traffic AU & I Must Talk About It Now.

Basically all the characters are in a modern setting, playing a rotating cast D&D game DMed by The Watchers. (I never really decided how that works. Plan was for everything in out of game space be completely mundane except for the floating purple eye behind the DM screen lol.)

But yeah! So I picked classes & heritages that the characters would pick themselves based on play styles & preferences. &, uh, here they are!

Bdubs: Firbolg, Light Domain Cleric of Helios

Of course he’s a light cleric. Of course his god is literally the god of the Sun. This man does not fuck with the night & darkness At All. (Also he wanted to be tall lol.)

BigB: (???), (???)

Okay, gonna be honest, BigB is the last one I need to make decisions for ‘cause I feel I have too many knowledge gaps about him to figure this out. Was thinking Paladin maybe??? But I will totes take input, please help me here. Only restrictions: I’d prefer if he doesn’t double up on heritage or subclass with anyone.

Cleo: Reborn, Circle of Wildfire Druid

Cleo’s gotta be a zombie, so Reborn is perfect. & who can deny Cleo the opportunity to have a skill set based entirely around setting shit on fire?

Etho: Shadar-Kai, Way of the Shadow Monk

He’s a ninja lol. Also in this AU I was thinking he & Gem would be siblings, so having him play an emotionally flat dark elf played nicely with what Gem goes with. Which…

Gem: Eladrin, Eldritch Knight Fighter

Gem had to be a fighter, that girl is a fighter through & through, but she’s definitely not playing a boring character. Eldritch Knight adds some magical flavour that goes well with her being an Eladrin. & she had to be an elf of some kind; I think she’d like the versatility & expressiveness of Eladrin.

Grian: Changeling, Pact of the Tome Warlock of the Archfey

Okay, I know this is probs controversial but hear me out. 1) Grian being a Warlock I think is just very in character. 2) Pact of the Tome lets him cast catrips from other classes & you unknowingly he’d get a kick outta that mechanic. 3) His patron is a homebrewed version of The Traveler, half way between 5e canon & Critical Role canon. Trickster vibes are real. 4) This dude has had so many skins. Changeling energy. (Also I just love changelings & Grian made the most sense to me.)

Impulse: Hill Dwarf, Forge Domain Cleric of Tharmekhûl

Another controversial one, but I’m not a fan of demon/tiefling/horned Impulse. & he legit has been a dwarf before. Hill dwarf because they get a Wisdom buff & that makes sense for Impulse. Cleric of Tharmekhûl because forge/light vibes & also he’s the god of smiths & that feels… like something Impulse would choose. (Impulse’s character is also min-max’d to hell. This man is going to win at D&D.)

Jimmy: Human, Oath of Glory Paladin of Tyr

Jimmy got overwhelmed by all the heritages & just went human for simplicity. He takes regular human rather than variant because he doesn’t want to learn all the feats & getting +1 to all stats is pretty good, right? Oath of Glory Paladin of Tyr because he really, really plays into being Lawful Good, & being The Law of the party.

Joel: Half-orc, Path of the Berserker Barbarian

Half-orc for being the closest I could get to an ogre. Path of the Berserker because he’s all about The Rage.

Lizzie: High Elf, School of Enchantment Wizard

Idk Lizzie just has big Wizard vibes to me, but like. Not the best wizard. Like she’s powerful, but rolls shit. She couldn’t get anyone to sleep in the Secret Life campaign because her DC is kinda low & everyone kept making their saves. (Except Joel. He failed his save on purpose. <3) High Elf for Queen Lizzie.

Martyn: Tiefling, Swashbuckler Fighter

Another natural fighter choice imo, but Swashbuckler for The Performance. Tiefling because he’s a bit impish & also so he can have Thaumaturgy to constantly scare everyone with monster/mob noises.

Mumbo: Rock Gnome, School of Evocation Wizard

I need to Mumbo to be a glass canon. School of Evocation Wizard does that so well. He can blow shit up so good, but he takes one hit & he’s out. Rock gnome because he just wanted to be a little guy & so he can be a Tinker.

Pearl: Wood Elf, Beastmaster Ranger

Beastmaster Ranger so she can have Tilly as an animal companion. Also more combat than magic focused, ‘cause that feels right? Elf because that’s her vibe, wood elf because it made sense for her build.

Ren: Werewolf Shifter (Doglike), Bannerette Fighter

Ren really wanted to be a fighter, but he put all his points in charisma RIP. So yeah, he’s the fighter class that does the least actual fighting lol. Doglike werewolf because of course.

Scar: Half-elf, Wild Magic Sorcerer/School of Eloquence Bard multiclass

His first few levels were in sorcerer, to reflect his absolutely bonkers all or nothing luck. School of Eloquence because he’s the type to talk his way out of most any situation he can. Also: Scar is 100% a charisma caster. (He still uses a longbow, don’t worry; he gets proficiency with it from being a half-elf.)

Scott: Fairy, Lunar Sorceror

I have changed my mind the most about Scott. Landed on Fairy, because the Vibes. Sorcerer because I felt he’d have innate magic, Lunar because it gives him access to a wide variety of spells that make sense for him. (Like Shield. He uses Shield all the time. Can’t hit this man, no sir.)

Skizz: Protector Aassimar, Path of the Ancestral Guardians Barbarian

He attac, he protec. & most importantly, he place high value on bonds between folks. So giving him Ancestral Guardians just… yeah.

Tango: Fire Genasi, Battlesmith Artificer

I don’t think I need to explain this much. His Steel Defender is an Iron Golem.

[thebleedingeffect]

i am so SO excited you're playing skyward sword. skwsd is my absolute fav zelda game, and i love skysd link so much, he is my little guy, my dude, the love of my life. how are you liking it? how far are you?

I'm enjoying skyward sword immensely!! Admittedly, at first I was little hesitant to get super into the game pass the intro forest temple because of how decisive this game seems to be. People seemed to either hate or be neutral to this game but I decided to play it anyway cause I do love loz and it seemed fun!! But I'm genuinely happy that I decided to play it anyway despite what the louder part of the loz community has said cause I'm truly enjoying myself a bunch.

The npcs are super animated and I love how much personality they have, even the rude ones, it just makes me happy to see how animated and diverse in personality that skyloft is! I love the little remlits and just how damn cute they are <33 I legit refuse to hurt them or throw them off cliffs they're so so cute I adore them!! Another thing that I like is that the game gives you a bunch of incentive to help fellow npcs and it gives you great rewards for doing so. It makes me actually want to look around skyloft and talk to people which is even better cause it gives me more opportunities to learn of the npcs!

I also fucking LOVE the dowsing feature, it's genuinely so great and helps me out a bunch in wanting to find objects naturally and not wanting to resort to guides. It's just nice cause I can stay in the game and find stuff at my own pace :]

ANOTHER THING!! I love how fucking COLORFUL everything is!! I am playing the HD version on the switch so I know the graphics are improved but even still! The environments and dungeons are all so pretty to look at and I llooovveedddd the ancient cistern :DDD also going back to skyward sword made me remember how much I love classic dungeon crawlers and how much I missed them in botw/totk </333 the puzzles are also very fun and are well-designed so that's a massive plus.

And uh... I've made it to the part where sksw Zelda meets with sksw Link after he managed to get all of the goddesses flames and tells him the whole deal. I genuinely did not expect for that entire scene to hit me as hard as it did but I'm really happy I managed to avoid spoilers for this long cause holy shit, holy shit. That entire conversation is so expertly written and I love how it characterizes the both of them, how they were both forced to grow up out of desperation. sksw Zelda telling Link that she was so sorry that she used him and his devotion to her?? That she knew that he would chase after her no matter what and she couldn't stay or tell him anything because the world needed a hero? That she was so sorry but she had to do it because it wasn't just them anymore, they had grown up and now the responsibility of the world was on their shoulders.

The little line of her saying that she would've been so happy to just with him on Skyloft for all their days and that she holds those memories so dear to her is just an absolute gut punch. It's so expertly written cause I feel like it would've been so easy to make her into a selfish, cruel character thanks to this conversation, but it's so wonderfully done that I fully understand why she did it. It's a case of fate demanding the worse of choices into their hands and they can do absolutely nothing about it because for as much as they love each other- neither of them could sit back and watch the world suffer. Of course, what she did wasn't good but that's the point! She hates herself for having to lie and cause him pain, for dragging him into this because she could see no other to ever be her hero.

The tragic thing is that I very much doubt it was ever in sksw Zelda's control, I think that sksw Link was always meant to be the hero and fate has a heavy hand in this game. Her motivations sort of remind me of oot Zelda's actually, blaming herself for circumstances out of her control, having to constantly stay out of reach, and having to grow up so fast. Both of them had to be the lights on the horizon that directed their heroes, but always just out of reach because he's the hero and she's the goddess, it's always so much bigger than either of them.

I've only gotten this far yet but god, GOD! This isn't even half my thoughts about the entire deal but Zelda constantly going back and forth from referring to herself with Zelda and Hylia?? Ouch??? The sudden instability of your own image... of feeling like everything you've ever known has been predestined... do you hate yourself for your past actions in another life? Do you hate her-you- for this inevitable fate that you and your hero are doomed to for reasons that you'll always blame yourself for? Does she hate herself even more that Link did exactly that, run after her, prove Hylia-herself- right? Does she feel responsible for all the physical, emotional, and mentall pain that Link has grown through in order to become the hero that the world needs? For forcing him to grow up with her when all they ever wanted was to be together and be torn apart at every single point?

Do NOT get me started on sksw Link oh my ggogoodosso ad dwshdi HELP! He's so fucking TRAGIC and PAINFUL TO EVEN THINK ABOUT! How every single person he meets he always tells them that he's looking for someone and he always seems to be in a hurry because he can't be late, not again. The sheer desperation, the unapologetic love, the personality, the inherent sacrificial nature, always looking into the past while running after Zelda- HELP ME!!! But I think one of the most painful parts to me... is that I really don't think Link blames Zelda at all, for any of it. How painful of a thought is it that I think he'd be perfectly open splitting himself on the master sword for her and he wouldn't blame her on his last breath? Would she believe him? Would she believe that she singlehandedly orchestrated the death of her hero after putting him through so much pain?

Another thing is that he isolates himself, he helps people whenever he can but there's so much guilt and isolation swirling around in him as well as the crushing weight of his destiny that he just realized. One key theme I find in the game is that early on it's stated that Link is different, from everything from the knight's academy, to Impa telling him only he can do it, to Groose trying and failing to be that hero. It doesn't feel like a blessing, it feels like a destiny he could've never avoided and he was always going to be the hero who's blood was split to protect others. Link was always going to be the one who ends up alone while everyone else stays in the past, together but eternally waiting for him- or moreso, waiting for the hero that he's forced to become. It genuinely makes me so sad that he only had Fi for the longest time but even then... she's not much more than a guide, at least at first. I really don't feel like he'd be comfortable or even believe that Fi would understand, not when she's under even stricter instructions than him.

So yeah uhhhhhhhh you could say I'm enjoying the game a bunch!! I'm waiting to finish the game before talking a BUNCH about it on the dash and flooding my blog with sksw reblogs but I'm enjoying myself so much!! Also I just missed the triforce so so much- DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MUCH I RESENTED THE SECRET STONES FOR TAKING MY BABYGIRL THE TRIFORCE AWAY??? I literally do not care about the secret stones, bring back the triforce I love her so so soooooo much and every single time I see any sort of triforce imagery I start crying and throwing up !

[seokjinsonlyone]

I woke up to absolute perfection 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️/lh/gen

The who I could seduce concept is on my mind 25/8, so you already know I came in clutch with the list🏃🏾‍♀️/lh:

7. Jimin - I love him, my little guy, my little dude, my everything. HOWEVER, I’m not finna eat my own ass, but I tend to visually stand out/lh. Which, I think would catch his attention, but we both too awkward. You know the clip of jhope talking to Becky g and Jimin just stands like 🧍. Like that’s finna be us.

6. Jin- This has like a 1% chance of working which is already higher than Jimin/lh. I feel like I could invite him out to something casual like a little dinner date(obviously I wouldn’t call it that but it is to ME/lh) and try and worm my way into his love life 👀/lh. Although, he would have to be in a real good mood or I’d have to say I’m paying for everything for that to real convince him. Jin is truly a king of boundaries/lh.

5. Hobi- Legit hurt my heart to put him so low, but I had to be realistic🤧/lh. Like this is my baby, my fuckin cinnamon apple, but I feel like I got about a 20-35% chance of getting him. Like I’d have to put in work cause the compliments and sly little touches not finna be enough. Like I’m finna have to COURT/lh. However, I do feel like jhope, in a particularly low moment, would be the type to shoot his shoot if he saw me in some good leggings and a sports bra./lh

4. JK- Him and Jhope were hard to place fr. Cause they feel both kinda easy but hard to get you know? Although, I feel like I have about a 5-10% advantage with Jungkook. Kookie love himself a good compliment and baby I am full of them 😘/lh. Also, Idk how to say it but Kookie got this energy of like he wants someone who just dgaf. Like he wants folks who he thinks look cool. Which is great for me cause babyyyy I got rbf/lh. Additionally, we both got tattoos, so I could sneakily use that to start a Convo and potentially get a social👀👀/lh.

3. Suga- I’m both surprised and unsurprised how high Min Yoongi landed on this list./lh I ain’t finna lie, Suga reminds me a bit of my current partner, so I feel like I could use the same moves and get a similar result yknow? Like he’s the one where I’m definitely approaching him first. Asking him about his day, his interests(love asking a man about his interests, quickest way for me to get invested/lh/gen) give him some little compliments and tease him when he gets embarrassed. I feel like I could have a little something something with him yknow. Also, depending on if I’m on my alt look that day, I feel like I got a definite 5% chance of luring him in.

2. RM- Namjoon, joonie, my baby, my everything, the reason I wake up in the morning and praise god/lh. Yknow how I said my current partner reminds me of Suga, well they also remind me of RM. This is the dude you approach all dressed up (like how I usually do💅🏾/lh) and ask him about the new book or hobbie he into and you got a 70% chance of getting him. Not to suck my own dick, but I know a couple of thangs/lh. I’m pretty well read, so I feel like I can keep up(my deepest secret is that I’ve dmed this man book recs before/lh). Additionally, I feel like RM the type of dude who’s like “👀oh she interested in me? That’s pretty interesting”/lh

1. V- Let it be known that I think Kim Tae is the easiest man on the planet/lh/hj. I definitely got like an 80-88% chance of bagging this man. Like he is the PINNACLE of being invested in folks who seem invested in him. Like I give him a little compliment, ask him about his day/hobbies, and then I tell him I gotta leave and he’s like 🧍🧍”what” (legit had a dude I know get upset with me cause I did this to him after one convo/lh came up and was like ☹️ “I thought we were still talking”) Very much likes new and likes affection, so any opportunity to get that seems up his alley. Definitely could get his number and maybe make him obsessed with me/lh/hj. Also, I got jokes and V loves to laugh, so I got him 👌🏿/lh/hj.

Girl this list was a lot 😭/lh. Good to get it off my chest tho/lh/gen.

Also, how’ve you been? How’s your week been going? I hope it been good girlie🫶. Stay wonderful queen 🫶🫶

- Joon 👰 Anon

LOOOOOL I'M SO GLAD WE'RE ALL ON THE SAME PAGE ABOUT TAE BEING EASY like idk i've just seen him give bedroom eyes too many times that and the tata mic face like he's always at either end of the spectrum and that just tell me that he is not quite for the city streets but he definitely for them back roads SKSKSL love him tho <3

and you know what hobi was hard for me to place too like him and yoongi for me specifically were bc like i'm not tryna have one night with them????? like i need them in my life as permanent fixtures some way some how????? but u know what actually it's my fault for thinking of them as yoongi and hobi i should've thought of them as agust d and jay bc lemme tell u i'm taking jay home at all costs homeboy would have to beat me off him with a cast iron skillet

also i forgot about that scene wit jimin hobi and becky g adjslfds jimin is so freakng funny be in his head way too much whenever a new person around it's actually hilarious

all in all very solid list with very solid logic but i've been good! i need a massage and some like will power to restructure my life again but all in due time thanks for asking honey bunny <3 and thank you for sharing!!!

[bohemian-nights]

Rhaenys is my favourite character on the show - a show that was overall a massive disappointment - , and along with Visenya, Rhaena and Alysanne, she's my favourite character in the book too. I prefer the book version. The book,while sucking at many points, at least allows much more interpretation since it’s just a history book written by some dude years and years later. Therefore I can literally do whatever I want with the "real" story and don’t have to mind other interpretations. Now the show overshadows and ruins everything Lol.

Okay, but the thing that annoys me personally most is the romantization of Rhaenys/Corlys. First I was angry they made them the same age. I mean, come on! The creators clearly have an issue with depicting age gap relationships since Daemon never ages despite marrying one childbride after another (funnily enough a new haircut doesn’t make me think: oh, look, he grew older). Book!Rhaenys married a man twice her age, which is totally fine, if it weren’t for the fact that she was just 16 years old at the time. (And just btw, in the real Middle Ages people FROWNED heavily on matches like this - even in noble and royal circles). So Rhaenys was basically just a child, who I think was legit infatuated with the older and exciting man. Corlys in turn was glad to score a Targaryen princess, who was then heir to the throne, a dragon rider and pretty. But this relationship only has trouble written across it!!! Corlys isn’t a gentle man. He's got pride and plans - every part of his story shows us an ambitious, determined man, which is okay. If you ask me though, he could only end up grooming Rhaenys. She was a child, and despite all her brains and whatnot, at 16 she still had a child's naivity, that can be too easily shaped by the right person. By someone like cunning Lord Velaryon. The show, however, bust decided to make them this random straight couple from any 80s drama, and completely missed out the potential of a complicated relationship.

And I agree with you regarding the Council of 101. Rhaenys and Coryls could've done more lobbying/politicing for their cause. (I have my theory on why that didn’t happen, but if I say that I attract even more hate from Corlys stans).

But you know, this is why I'm so angry about the Rhaenys/Corlys dynamic on the show. Give me a damn twist. Show me this cool woman finally snapping out of her stupor and realising how she's been manipulated, trying to please men all her life (I see the irony in the Alicent & Rhaenys speech, even though I actually enjoyed that moment. It's good acting). Watching her daughter marry an even worse man, who then immediately after her death grabs the next girl he groomed (killing off her husband on the way) - what better premisis would there have been for Rhaenys to finally wake up??? But what does the show do? They give us a Rhaenys who runs around in circles, telling people she can’t make decisions without her husband and blah blah blah. For f*sake! Let her be a dragon! But no, in this setting women can only be as strong as it's comfy for patriachy and then we have to sell it off as feminism, because "she loved him so much".

I also never quite got why Rhaenys went to Rook's Rest on her own. When Daemon goes to the Riverlands there's an army with him, but Rhaenys heads out all by herself?...bad bad writing. And just as bad to me is the remark on how angry Corlys was about her death. I mean, come on, he was only angry because he basically lost his most powerful tool. Lucky though, that he had those bastards waiting in the background, ready to claim another dragon for House Velaryon.

Note: I would also like to thank the other anon who mentioned they didn’t like Daemon at all. I'm glad and relieved to hear other people share this feeling!

Rhaenys is a really interesting character who has so much potential to be this amazing woman, but then she kinda just goes along with the tide without really putting up a fight. I agree that book!Rhaenys’ actions are a little more understandable(although yeah her going by herself to Rooks Rest is a choice 😬), but show!Rhaenys’ actions don’t make a lick of sense past episode 7(cause why side with the woman who you think killed your son who just married the man who made your daughter so miserable 🫠).

How they handled her relationship with Corlys has been another choice. They’ve still kept the fact that he cheated on her(unless they make Alyn and Addam Vaemond’s bastards) so Rhaenys running around talking about I won’t do anything without Corlys is only going to make her look stupider when those boys show up(and some people say they’ll appear in episode two and she’s probably still alive then😬).

It would’ve been nice with the changes that they made she snapped and said enough is enough, but yeah that doesn’t happen. She never puts herself(or her granddaughters) first. She’s exactly who she claims Alicent is except she might be worse considering she had way more power than Alicent ever had yet she threw it all away for reasons🤦🏽‍♀️

At this point, it’s pretty obvious that this show is all about giving girl boss-looking moments(see having Rhaenys come in through the floorboards), but at the end of the day these women just look silly and weak(getting choked out, cheated on, slapped around, abused, acting oblivious to what’s happening around them, being smiling pretty puppets, etc.)

For a feminist show these women sure do lack agency🤷🏽‍♀️

Can I just say I love how people trash Daemon on this blog even though he's my favorite🤣 It's super amusing, but I get it cause he is very out there. He's an acquired taste.

[occult-roommates]

Salut les amoureux

On a video call, Audrey wanted nothing more than to know what her best friend had been up to this past month. The two haven’t had the occasion to see each other since Dawud moved to San Myshuno, as they’re both busy adult with a job now. Also, plane tickets aren’t cheap, and the entire car ride would be more than 24 hours. For a good hour, they talked about everything that had been going on in their life. Audrey didn’t had much to say, for her it was business as usual...  

On the other hand, Dawud’s life barely looked like what it was barely two months prior. And sure, he could have tell her about Kino, but he couldn’t. He didn’t receive the full approval of the alien yet, and he didn’t want to betray their trust...Speaking of trust betrayal, he then went on to ramble for several minutes about his sort of relationship with Charlie. He actually had not mentioned that earlier in the conversation. On one hand, Audrey was happy to see her friend finally improving after being a depressed mess for so long, but also...

Audrey: You...You have a girlfriend?! Dawud: I mean, kind of, I guess. We’re more like fuck-friends than anything... Audrey: What do you mean by that? Dawud: Well, like I said, we’re sleeping together, and it was flattering to feel desired by someone at first, but at this point, I’m starting to realize her and I is not meant to be. Like, I’m reaching a point where I just kinda space out during sex cause I’m bored and not that into it, and I don’t really see myself with her in the long or short term. Audrey: Then break up you idiot!

Like, really? Audrey knew her friend was...not that mature emotionally, but how did he get himself in such a pickle in barely a month? 

Dawud: But like, I told you, she has severe trust issue because of her ex-boyfriend, and I don’t want her to think I only used her for sex or just for my broken ego. Those were not my intention at all! At first I legit thought we might become a couple, sadly it ain’t the case. But also, she’s like the head of the apartment, so if I piss her off I might get kicked out. Audrey: The earlier you tell her, the less likely she is to be mad at you. Be honest, tell her it is not meant to be, and hope for the best. At worst, you’ll just move back with me, eh. Dawud: You know what, you’re right. My mom was a feminist, and I don’t think she’d be proud of me if I lied to a woman about how I feel just because I get to have sex with her. It’s gross and wrong, and I don’t wanna disappoint my mom. Audrey: Speaking of disappointing your mom, does she know you’re no longer a student at the Oasis Spring Technological Institute, and haven’t been in more than a year? Or that your breakfast is literally a coke?  Dawud: That’s a problem for another day.

After that, Audrey had to hung up, she had to start getting ready for work. Dawud, on the other hand, was on his day off, which means that as soon as Charlie came back from taking picture of the city for her Instagram, he’s gonna tell her. And since nobody has ever taught him breaking up etiquette, he decided to do it in public, at a local park near the water. 

Dawud: Look, Charlie, I’m sorry. I just...Don’t really feel anything for you except friendship. I was afraid to tell you, cause I didn’t want you to think I used you or anything, but that wasn’t my intention. I was hoping that attraction I felt for last month would evolve into something deeper, but sadly it did not. If anything it kinda...faded away. Charlie: Oh! Dawud: What? What does this mean? Charlie: I actually felt pretty similarly. Like, when I first saw you I immediately felt attracted to you, which I thought was a sign since I didn’t felt anything like this since Thomas. But I quickly came to realize I was probably just lonely and horny. I wanted to tell you, but I was afraid of breaking your heart, since I do think you’re very nice and I know you don’t have the best self-esteem. I mean, I still think you’re my type, but I was starting to tell I wasn’t your type. Dawud: So...we cool? We’re still friend?  Charlie: Yeah!!

Wow, ok. This whole break up thing is easy, ABBA lied in Knowing Me, Knowing You! Just like that, Charlie and Dawud kept on walking, before stopping for lunch. It was a bit early for that, but the sun now fully out, and Charlie being a big fan of not burning to death, they had to take shelter inside a building quick.

This whole thing was under one condition, and it was that neither of them should ever bring up this weird month of their life where they were sort of dating.

Prev - Next

[obriengf]

like, where does one start when fangirling hard about a fic like THIS? it is all absolutely superb, starting from the eclectic descriptions of the writing itself to the brilliant realistic banter between the two main characters (the dialogue is perfection tbh).

AND THEN you see the best utilisation of too many hyphens to create such imagery for how much love this poor soul has for the reader is crazy......

He does. Stiles swallows a little. You know him so well. You know everything about him. Everything except, of course, that the crush he had on you in elementary school has metastasized into an all-consuming, all-encompassing, honest-to-god, tried-and-true-blue, last-of-dying-breed, core-of-the-sun, probably-caused-the-big-bang kind of love.

also please don't get me started on how "Do you think we’ll be best friends forever?” absolutely ruined me ... and BOY BLUNDER?!?! BOY WONDER?!?!?! ugh my heart

Stiles wanted to laugh. And then scream. And then kiss you. He didn’t do any of those things. He just said, “Can’t picture it any other way.” He didn’t say that whenever he thought about the future, whenever he pictured forever, you were always there. He didn’t ask, ‘Is it okay if I’m in love with you forever?’

like it's okay, you can fuck with my heart like that??!?!?? ^^^^^^

And then, he’d kiss you. He’d kiss you again, and again, and again, until one of you started laughing, but that’d be okay because it would give him the chance to kiss your neck and whisper, 'You’re the sky, and the mountains, and everything in-between.' 'You’re dark matter; you’re gravity,' he’d kiss the words into your skin and sigh, 'you’re the only thing holding the universe together.' But he can’t say that, so Stiles follows you into Lydia’s bedroom and wipes the sweat on his palms off on his jeans.

^^ this bit really got me. it was so fucking pretty, i reread it like 3 times.

also when stiles stepped out the window it was actually so characteristically him tbh - brilliant example of combining two fandoms together to make this fic

You are…” Stiles closes his eyes, and his voice is so soft, so devout, “you are so fucking...inescapable, you know that? You are…you’re so deep inside my head, I can’t do anything without thinking about you. It’s becoming a serious fuckin’ problem—a nuisance, actually, a nuisance. And it’s not like I haven’t tried to stop, y’know, like it would be fuckin’ awesome if I could just forget how you smell like going home and a goddamn spring meadow, or if I could go fuckin’ grocery shopping without looking for those impossible to find chips with the Elmer Fudd lookin’ fucker on ‘em—”

“Hot fries,” you whisper hoarsely.

Stiles stops pacing for a moment and nods at you, “Thank you—hot fries. And I would love it if I could walk down the street, just once, and not look for a dog to take a picture of, just so I have an excuse to text you without looking like I was just thinking about you—even though I was obviously just thinking about you because, re my previous ranting, there’s literally not a single second of the day that you're not on my mind. You're just…inevitable.”

“And…I am Iron Man?” your smile is wobbly.

Stiles gives you a flat look over his shoulder, “You’re a smartass—but I love that. I love everything about you—even the way you talk through my favorite movies and force-feed me a vegetable once a week.”

^^legit probably one of my all time favourite character interactions and dialogue that I've ever read in a fic 👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏

i honest to god could write feedback and praise for every single line of this fic. everything about it is composed so beautifully and brought to life with the most amazing amount of realism and imagery. i could honestly see myself reading it over and over again. seriously lizzie you better not have any ounce of doubt for your writing EVER because are so consistently amazing and i am in constant awe with everything that you do and write 💖👏🤌

𝒈𝒐𝒐𝒅𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒏 𝒈𝒐 // stiles stilinski imagine Characters: Stiles Stilinski, fem!reader, Scott McCall, Lydia Martin, Isaac Lahey, Malia Tate, Kira Yukimura, Allison Argent Pairing(s): Stiles x you, Word Count: 8.9k Tags: human!au, fluff, childhood to friends to lovers Warnings: there are a few little nsfw mentions in the middle, so MDNI. Stiles does go out on a window ledge, but i have to make it clear he has no intention ever of jumping lmao.

A/N: this is basically just one day i thought what if stiles had a nick x jess first kiss because he seems stupid and awkward enough to jump out a window. and thus this nonsense was born. also the pov switching was new, so you’ll have to let me know if you’re a fan or not.

The thing is, Stiles isn’t an idiot. He’s stupid, but he isn’t dumb. He knows that it’s not normal to think about your best friend like this. That being so intensely attuned to the curve of her spine when she stretches or the hint of citrus that clings to her hair after she showers isn’t exactly platonic. 

And he really doesn’t want to be that guy. You know, the guy who just wants more, who gets upset when he can’t have more—the guy who can’t be friends with the girl who doesn’t love him back. So. Stiles stuffs it down. Deep down. And he’s content to die like this because he needs you. 

There are other girls. Boys too, after a latent discovery freshman year ( one that surprised no one but himself ). They come, and they go, and Stiles makes due with what he can have because he knows this is how it has to be. 

But they aren’t you. 

A blatant fact that ruins anything real before it even has the chance to start. 

So here he is: 24, single, and perpetually in love with one of his three roommates—but, hey, at least he does his own laundry now.

Stiles watches you on your bed, sitting on the floor like a child, while he pretends to work on a case report. He feels a little like a child too, the longer he stares at you—like a little boy with his hand in the cookie car. 

He plays with the fluff on your rug to keep his hand busy, tugging on it a little too harshly when you pull your hair back with the scrunchie on your wrist. Stiles feels like a cretin when his eyes follow the rise of your breasts as you fiddle with the knot on top of your head. They trail over the flex of your collarbones, and he sinks further into his shame when he imagines tracing the lines with his tongue. 

You catch him staring, and his throat bobs with his swallow. 

“What?” you ask with arched brows. You grin at him like you know something. 

Fuck, what if you know? 

You asked him something. Stiles knows you asked him something, but he can’t remember what. He just swallows again and fumbles for his coffee. Stiles knows that he should be desensitized to it all by now: your clever mouth, your deft fingers, your fluttering lashes, but he’s still startled by it every so often—like right now, when you look like you’re about to say something snarky at his expense. 

“Does it look that bad?” A few strands of your hair slip from their loose hold when you shake your head at him. “Are you moonlighting with the fashion police? I thought you’d be a little busy living in the murder capital of the world.”

Stiles laughs a little, mostly because of the simple fact that your hair always looks pretty. He said it the first time he saw you, blurted it out like a baby lamb. Stiles knew, even at six, that he should be embarrassed, but he just couldn’t help it. He was so little and completely overwhelmed by his first case of puppy love; the words had nowhere else to go. He’s gotten better at swallowing the praise-vomit, but he still notices. You’re always pretty. He’s doing his best to ignore it. 

“That’s St. Louis actually,” Stiles says. He burns his tongue on his coffee and pulls a face that he knows gives him a double chin. 

You slide off of your bed and kneel down next to him. Your knees press into his thigh, and it feels like something more, something profound, but he knows it doesn’t mean anything. You’re generous with your affection; you make everyone feel special when they’re around you. Stiles loves that about you, how you make him feel like he’s so smart, so vital when he knows that he’s moderately clever at best and really a lot closer criminally obsessive most days. 

“Can you tell me anything about it?” you hum, nestling your chin in the hollow of his shoulder. 

Stiles can smell your body wash. It’s sweet, fresh, and tickles his nose pleasantly—marigold and aloe. He’s seen the bottle in the shower. Sometimes, he has to bite his fist and turn the water to freezing when he accidentally imagines your wet, sudsy body, lathering the scent of marigold from neck to toe. It’s the in-between bits that make him especially nauseous with guilt. 

“Huh?” Stiles mumbles, pressing his singed tongue to the roof of his mouth. 

You poke his cheek and say, “You’re eating your lip. You only do that when you get stuck in a case.” 

Stiles can think of several other things that make him suck his top lip between his teeth, but he is stuck—most likely because he’s spent the last hour watching you. 

You frown, and he smiles a little at the wrinkle between your brows. You smooth out his own forehead wrinkles with your thumb and say, “It helps you sometimes—talking. You think best out loud.”

He does. Stiles swallows a little. You know him so well. You know everything about him. Everything except, of course, that the crush he had on you in elementary school has metastasized into an all-consuming, all-encompassing, honest-to-god, tried-and-true-blue, last-of-dying-breed, core-of-the-sun, probably-caused-the-big-bang kind of love. 

Stiles has tried, and failed, to think of a way to casually confess how he feels. How do you even begin to break something like that to a friend? Over Chinese food? After a few beers at your favorite bar? During one of your Buffy binge nights? How is he supposed to say, ‘Hey, so I’m kind of totally and irrevocably in love with you, and it’s ruining my life a little—but that’s okay ’cause I can’t be happy unless I know that you’re happy’ without blowing up his entire life? 

He can’t. So Stiles stuffs it down again with a sip of his coffee: black and bitter, a little like his heart when your not-boyfriend, boyfriend texts you. And he knows that’s so incredibly unfair of him. He knows that he’s needy, and pathetic, and far too possessive of your attention—it all makes him a little sick with self-loathing. 

You have every right to remove your warmth from his side to respond, and Stiles thinks that if a guy can make you smile like that, he must not be all bad. You seem happy. When isn't feeling sorry for himself, Stiles is happy for you. 

“The local police think it’s gang-related,” Stiles says eventually. His voice is raspy from his burnt throat and too loud in the silence of the near-empty apartment. 

You slide your phone back into your pocket, and Stiles tries not to feel victorious. “And you don’t,” you scooch back to his side, ducking your head over his shoulder to see his screen. 

“No,” Stiles combs his fingers through his hair and sighs, “I don’t. It’s too easy.”

“Follow your gut,” you say, poking his abs, “he usually knows what’s up.” 

“You know what he’s sayin’ right now?” Stiles’s back clicks as he stretches and rolls his neck around in slow circles. It does little for the perpetual ache along the ridge of his skull, but it gives him some space from you and your stupidly sweet smile. “It’s time for chimichangas.” 

You smile at him again, and Stiles blames the swooping in his stomach on hunger. “I think you deserve a little more than off-brand, freezer-burned Tex-Mex.” 

“Don’t knock Great Value,” Stiles grumbles, rubbing a hand over his face. His lips, swollen from an afternoon of tearing into them with his teeth, tug into a tired smile when you wave your hand impatiently in front of his face. He wraps his long fingers around yours and says, “She’s been there for me through everything.” 

“Higher standards, Stiles,” you roll your eyes, crinkled at the corners with your grin, “you’re in desperate need of higher standards.” 

Stiles wants to laugh, feels the impulse itch his throat. High standards are precisely his problem. 

“Maybe you should stop being such a brand snob,” Stiles pokes you in the side, a spot between your ribs that he knows is ticklish. You laugh and shove him away with a firm hand; Stiles goes willingly, stumbles into the doorframe just to make you laugh again. 

“I am not a snob,” you push yourself onto a barstool, socked-feet dangling below. He smiles as you swing them and then knock your ankles together. You used to do the same thing on the playground swing set. “Not liking over-salted garbage is not snobbery.”

Stiles reaches for the open bag of corn nuts on the island, needlessly resting his palm on your lower back under the guise of balance. Your skin is warm, and he’s too busy thinking about how his hand must’ve been molded around the shape of your hip to notice how hard you’re biting your lower lip. 

He tosses a few corn nuts in the air and catches them in his waiting mouth, smacking his lips together until they’re free of nacho cheese seasoning. He grins at the look on your face, and he wants to kiss the tip of your scrunched nose. “See,” Stiles sucks the leftover orange dust off of his fingers. His voice is muffled by his thumb when he says, “You’re snubbing my snacks right now—like a little munchie elitist. How dare you; they probably won’t ever recover.” 

You laugh, as expected, and snatch the bag from the counter, not expected. “You’re literally biting your thumb at me!”

Stiles leans against the counter, rests his forearms on the granite, and watches you chew with a dumb, fond smile on his face. You’re just so clever, all wrapped up in keen smiles and sharp wit. You keep him on his toes, always have—Stiles hasn’t ever met anyone else who can spar with him so well. He doesn’t think he ever will. Admittedly, he hasn’t looked that hard; his heart just isn’t in it—who else would paraphrase Shakespeare in the middle of a mock debate? Who else could possibly look so wily and wicked while doing it through a mouthful of, objectively, terrible gas station eats. 

“Purely accidental,” Stiles taps his fingers against the counter, and his shoulders lift with a small, oh-so innocent shrug, “it’s what we professionals call a ‘serendipitous turn of events’.”

“A professional what?” You grin at him. It’s one of his favorites, the one that says you’re about to tease him. “Sadist?”

“Oh,” Stiles’s brow quirks as he leans forward onto his arms, “so I torture you? Being around me is torturous?” 

“Yes.” Your chin jerks with a small, sharp nod, but the only thing Stiles can see is your pouty bottom lip. 

Sometimes, Stiles swears you do it on purpose—turn him on in the most inconvenient of moments. Make his heart swell into his throat until he devolves into a lovesick caveman. You have to know what you’re doing to him when you walk around in those little tank tops with the lace trim and the sleep shorts that ride up to the swell of your ass. It can’t be accidental, the cute laugh-snorts you’re so embarrassed of, or how you get so excited when you see a bird in a parking lot. It’s all too effective to be a coincidence.

Like right now, the way your lip balm shines under the kitchen lights and exaggerates your pout. You must know how completely and utterly kissable you look, and Stiles can’t do anything about it—now that’s torture. 

You give him mercy and tuck your pout away for a solemn line instead. “You’re evil; you never close the cabinets or take the trash out.” 

“Careful,” Stiles grins and snaps his teeth in the air, “I bite too.”

You lean across the island, and it’s torture, the way your arms squeeze your chest and push your cleavage to the neckline of your shirt. Stiles pointedly avoids looking at the round flesh. It just looks so soft, so plush—so ripe. His teeth ache. His tongue salivates. He craves with reckless abandon, and he’s never satiated. 

Stiles knows you’re a smart girl, but sometimes he forgets. You’d have to be pretty dense, after all, to not see the ravenous gleam in his eyes. You certainly don’t seem to notice it now, not with all that fondness twisting your lips into a grin. Stiles often wonders, worries, how you’d look at him if you knew. Disgusted most likely; he’s disgusted with himself half the time—but you’re so sweet, and so understanding, you’d probably forgive him. 

Pity, Stiles decides, if you knew, you’d pity him. He can’t decide if that’s worse. 

You rest your finger between his brows, and his dark lashes flutter, brushing against his freckles like they stamped the specks onto his skin. “Eat your nuts, monster,” you drag your finger along the slope of his nose and then ‘boop’ the tip, “and then preferably something with a single gram of protein.” 

Stiles grumbles to himself and searches the fridge for something that will placate your relentless bullying. He picks up the whipped cream and rolls the chilled can around in his hands, squinting at the label. 0 grams of protein. Stiles scoffs. Reddi Whip is, like, 75% milk, right?

His phone buzzes in his pocket, and he forgets to shut the fridge door until it starts beeping at him like it's a personal offense. 

“Work?”

Stiles barely hears you, nose almost smooshed against his screen. “Huh?” He stares at his phone, eyes rapidly flicking back-and-forth, brain turning over how to counter the latest move on his ever-changing chessboard. 

Stiles finally registers what you said when he begins his reply to his unit chief. “Oh…yeah.” His thumbs fly over his screen at a speed that, frankly, shouldn’t be humanly possible, “One sec…”

“You need a break.” You stand and place your hands on your hips in an adorable show of strength. He knows that you’re going for stern, so he bites his twitching mouth lest he invoke your actual wrath. “You’ve been working 18-hour days for the last two weeks.” 

That’s an exaggeration, but Stiles doesn’t argue. He feels like it’s true. His stubble is out of control, and he’s afraid to look in the mirror and see exactly how dark his eyebags are. He only stopped by to shower and get a fresh change of clothes, but you came out of the bathroom in your little pink bathrobe and distracted him. 

Stiles hates that robe. Detests it. He wants to burn it. He wants to rip the flimsy tie off with his teeth. 

Mostly, Stiles wants to tuck you under his blankets and snuggle into the fuzzy fabric until he falls asleep. 

He wants, he wants, he wants. That’s the problem.

You pry his phone from his hands and slip it into your back pocket. “We’re getting drunk tonight,” you say, and you say it in a way that he can’t even argue with. You say it like it’s a fact—you’re informing him, not telling him. Stiles is usually happy to comply. 

That’s how you’ve always worked, after all: You point at a crocodile infested river, and he goes merrily, merrily, merrily down the stream, with a stupid, dreamy smile on his face. 

It’s just. He’s functionally useless at doing anything without you. You take care of him. Always have. 

Way back, when he was pre-Adderall Stiles, all baby energy and undiagnosed ADHD, you shoved a kid off of the swings when he made fun of Stiles’s babbling and twitching. He still babbles and twitches, but at least now he knows why. He doesn’t have some parasitic monster inside him; he’s just Stiles. 

You’ve always known that—how was he supposed to not fall in love with you? 

And after his mom died, you let him cry on your shoulder until your shirt was soaked through. He got snot all over your collar, and you just squeezed him tighter. Held onto him until he could breathe again, and then you said, “Want a grape soda?” and he almost started crying again because right then, at that moment, that was somehow the only right thing to say. Maybe because it was you, or maybe it was because you knew him so well. Maybe, it didn’t matter. 

You spent the rest of the night starfished over your bed, and after a minute of staring at your ceiling fan, Stiles whispered, “Do you think we’ll be best friends forever?”

You looked at him and grinned, all teeth and sparkly eyes, and said, “You better hope so, boy blunder. Who else is gonna watch Twin Peaks with you a zillion times?” And Stiles knows that he was only eight, and he knows that maybe it was just because you made him laugh after all the emptiness, but he thinks that he fell a little bit in love with you then, even if he was too young to put a name to the feeling. 

He finally figured it out when he was seventeen. Stiles wanted to be an adult so badly back then—and he felt like he was sometimes, after everything he’d gone through, but in so many ways he wasn’t. He definitely didn’t know how to handle his breakup with Malia like an adult—his first breakup, his first real relationship. 

Stiles drank a lot that night. He can’t remember exactly how much, or anything that happened after 11 pm, but he does remember how you stroked his hair. He remembers how you wiped the foul mix of bile and sweat from his face with a cool washcloth and tender hands. He remembers how you tucked him into bed and curled up next to him when he asked you to say. 

He remembers falling in love with you. 

The epiphany felt a lot better when he was warm and limp from his dad’s scotch. It hurt a bit, when he woke up hungover and in an empty bed. You were in the kitchen, making him breakfast: greasy eggs and hashbrowns. After he got over seeing you in one of his t-shirts, he wondered if you’d ever get tired of cleaning up after him and all his issues. 

Stiles still wonders that sometimes, even after you crawled into bed with him the night you found out your college sweetheart was cheating on you. He stroked your hair and ignored the wetness soaking into his neck, and you whispered against his skin, “Do you think we'll best friends forever?” 

Stiles wanted to laugh. And then scream. And then kiss you. He didn’t do any of those things. He just said, “Can’t picture it any other way.” He didn’t say that whenever he thought about the future, whenever he pictured forever, you were always there. 

He didn’t ask, ‘Is it okay if I’m in love with you forever?’

Stiles wants to ask it now, while you rattle off your plans for him this evening, but he doesn’t. He chews on a corn nut instead. 

“Lydia’s looking for the right opportunity to make a move on the guy in 2B anyway,” you finish, blowing a strand of hair out of your face. 

You’re looking at him like he’s supposed to say something, so he nods dutifully, “The guy with the mullet, right?”

You roll your eyes and poke around the cabinets, taking stock of the chips and tequila. “It’s not a mullet—you’re so obtuse when you’re jealous.”

Stiles blinks because…where the hell did that come from? “I’m good on the perm front, thanks,” he snarks through the food lodged in his cheek.

“Not of him,” you say, tongue trapped between your teeth and distracted by the mixers on top of the fridge. Your back is to him from your perch on the counter, and Stiles watches you with wary eyes. It would be so much easier if you'd just ask him to get things down from the top shelves, but you never do. Refuse to, actually. Vehemently. You'll do it yourself, even if it means breaking a limb.  

You manage to keep a hold of the pile of bottles cradled against your chest through your dismount, and Stiles breathes easier when your feet are pressed against solid ground. He’s glad your eyes are still on the kaleidoscope of sugar and citrus because you’d mock the relief in his eyes without mercy. 

You line the bottles up in order of emptiness and absently hum, “Well, yes of him, I guess, because—can you check on the vodka and gin?” 

Stiles sticks his head in the freezer, grateful for the blast of frigid air, and tries to untangle the crumbs of meaning in your flimsy accusation. He comes up with absolutely nothing—on every front of his mission.  “No gin.” 

You let out a long, heavy sigh and shake your head at the dangling light fixtures. “Lydia.”

Lydia was the only person in the apartment who liked gin, but Stiles didn’t have any room in his brain for commiseration. “So, I’m jealous of little orphan Annie from 2B because…?” He leans against the counter and tucks his hands under his arms, squinting skeptically, “Just so we’re on the same page n’ all.” 

You’re texting someone. He’s sure it’s Lydia, probably asking her to pick up more gin on her way home, but Stiles can’t help but wonder if you’re inviting your…whatever you call three decent dates and one evening of alright sex. ( Oh, how Stiles loved hearing all the details when you came home. ) 

“Hmm?” Your smile is lit up by your screen and the kittenish glint in your eye, but Stiles knows it’s not for him. He swallows his pettiness before he chokes on it. “Oh, right,” you put your phone down on the counter and smirk. This one is for him, but Stiles actually wouldn’t mind if it was for someone else; the look in your eyes is downright diabolical. “You’re so adorably, blatantly jealous that Lydia is into another no-neck, illiterate jock from the gym—but the perm is pretty bad, I’ll give you that.” 

Stiles’s jaw falls, and you laugh, completely misinterpreting his stupor. He stares at you and just shakes his head, scrambling for a grasp on at least one of the million questions pinging around his skull. “You think I want Lydia?”

“Uh-doy,” you roll your eyes like he’s said something particularly stupid, “only since forever.”

He’s struck again at how you can simultaneously know him so well and not at all. “You don’t think that would’ve come up in the last, I dunno,” Stiles’s head jerks with his choppy hand gestures, “eighteen years?” 

You wave your hand and then grab his wrist, “It’s been intermittent.” 

You lead Stiles back into your room by his hand like he’s a wayward dog on a leash. He’s grateful for it. Stiles can’t do much else besides blink and breathe when he’s like this—when he’s wrapped up in a case he can’t crack.

Stiles drops onto the edge of your bed with a solid thud, feeling a bit like someone slammed a 2x4 into his gut. His tongue seems to be useless, glued to the back of his teeth. All he can do is watch you flit around your room, gathering an armful of skirts and dresses. 

You hold up a black dress in one hand and a black mini-skirt layered under a red baby tee in the other, “Pick.”

Stiles wants to pick the sweats you’re currently wearing because they’re his, but he points at the skirt. He knows it’s your favorite; you’d pick it anyway. 

You sit down in front of your vanity and pull the scrunchie out of your bun. Stiles watches your hair tumble over your shoulders. You’re insecure about it, always have been. One day it’s the color, and then it’s the texture, and he, for the life of him, doesn’t understand why. Your hair shines so prettily under the light, and it always smells so sweet, like citrus and honeysuckle—Stiles can’t decide if he wants to bury his nose in it or wrap it around his spindly fingers. 

Graciously, you twist it into an artful arrangement before he can do either. 

“I don’t want to be with Lydia,” Stiles finally says quietly. 

You stop fiddling with pieces of hair framing your face and meet his gaze in the mirror, “It’s okay if you do.”

Stiles nods and stares at his lap, twiddling his fingers. “I know,” it’d be easier if he did, “but I don’t.”

You turn around in your chair and give him a little smile. It’s fond and sweet, and Stiles feels like a hand is closing around his heart and twisting it behind his ribs. “We’ll find you someone tonight, then,” you say, popping up from your seat. You grab your clothes off of the bed and squeeze his shoulder on your way to the full-length mirror next to your closet.

Stiles turns his head when you start to wriggle out of your shirt. He knows you don’t care what he sees after years of sleepovers and lake vacations, but you don’t know what it does to him. How all your dips and curves slip behind his lids when he’s alone with his fist and too much lube. If he’s really being honest, it also happens when he’s not alone, but that makes him feel like a piece of shit for a whole other list of reasons. 

All of it feels pretty awful when it’s over—when Stiles is left with the unpleasant sensation of drying cum on his stomach and the very unpleasant realization that you’d never wear a swimsuit around him again if you knew exactly what he does with the image. 

So. Stiles does what he can. He doesn’t look when you change, tries to avoid seeing you in a towel altogether, and watches so much porn of people who look nothing like you.

It doesn’t work, of course, but he tries. That has to count for something. 

Stiles swallows and taps his fingers against his thighs. “I can’t think of anything I want to do less than interact with a bunch of drunk strangers partying in my—”

“Not a bunch,” you say around a grunt, tripping over the dragging hem of your borrowed sweats, “and not a party. Just a chill get-together of like-minded peers.”

He scoffs and tips his chin up, rolling his eyes at the ceiling. “I’m sure I have so much in common with Lydia’s guest list. Yeah, we can talk about how they can bench-press two of me and that I also love me some stacking—pancakes, not steroids, but close enough.” 

There’s a whoosh of a zipper and then you’re in front of him with your arms folded over your chest and thinned eyes. “You better behave.”

Stiles grins; it’s decidedly obnoxious. “I’ll be perfectly cordial, promise. I’ll even speak slowly.”

You laugh, and Stiles knows you’re only pretending that you didn’t want to. 

“I think it’ll be good for you.” You return to your vanity and pilfer through your mess of earrings. “Y’know, to get out of your head for a little bit. It really is just gonna be us and a few plus ones. I know you, boy wonder, no parties shall ever be thrown in your honor. I solemnly swear.”

He smiles at the childhood pet name, a private little grin Stiles keeps tucked in his chest and at his feet. It falls, however, when he remembers the middle bits of your speech. “So,” Stiles gnaws on his thumbnail and jiggles his knee, “did you invite a plus one?”

You slide a gold hoop through your ear and grin at him, “Nah, I’m all yours tonight, Stilinski.”

Good. God.

Stiles wants to kiss you. He always wants to kiss you, but sometimes every inch of you rips the air from his lungs—cleaves him right in two. Like right now. He forgets how to speak, trying to remember what he can say and what he absolutely can’t say, while he imagines a life where you really are his and you know that he’s always been yours. 

You’re just so pretty in your little skirt and cherry t-shirt, and you’re so clever, and funny, and you’re looking at him like he’s your favorite person in the entire world, and Stiles feels all of it spilling over the edges of his restraint. He almost says something so heavy—so categorically, catastrophically stupid, it would ruin your friendship for good.  

Stiles swallows it back into his chest, but his voice is still thick when he says, “All mine, huh.”

He’s sick with yearning, and he’s petrified for a moment that you can tell. It seems so obvious to him. It would be obvious to anyone, Stiles thinks, if they heard how weak he sounded, how soft in his throat and reverent in your presence. 

But you don’t notice. You never do. It’s a relief, and it’s endlessly frustrating. 

“Yep,” you smack your lips together, blotting your red lipstick until it’s perfect, “I wanna win, and everyone knows you can’t win True American with a noob on your team.” 

His brow arches, and a lazy grin smears across his mouth, “Oh, so we’re getting drunk drunk tonight.”

You wink at him in the mirror, “If you play your cards right.”

Stiles does, in fact, play his cards right. He picks Scott as the third member of your cabinet, possibly because Scott can outdrink anyone…or maybe it’s because Scott knows that Stiles is pathetically into you and can’t keep his mouth shut at the best of times, but especially not when he’s drunk. 

Who’s to say, really?

Honestly, Stiles doesn’t need the advantage—Lydia’s voluntarily stuck with Isaac and the guy from 2B who can’t follow the rules no matter how many times they shout them at him, and Malia and Kira care far more about making goo-goo eyes at each other than they do helping their friend from yoga make any progress towards the King—but he’s competitive by nature and feeling exceptionally stupid tonight. 

Lydia introduced the Clinton Strip Rules solely to ogle her latest man candy’s aggressively sculpted six-pack and show off her bewitching décolletage, and it was going along swimmingly until the idiot forgot how to count. 

It was so simple. All the guy had to do was hold up three fingers—that’s all. He would’ve matched Lydia's count, and then they could've made out behind the Iron Curtain. But he didn’t. He held up two fingers and in doing so single-handedly crafted Stiles Stilinski’s demise.

Ironic. Considering the moron can't craft a compound-complex sentence to save his life. 

For a single, endless moment, you and Stiles just stare at each other, more specifically, at the four fingers plastered against your foreheads—and then the spell is broken by drunken cackling. Lydia grins like the cat who caught the canary, and Scott laughs until his face turns red. He’s loud and obnoxious with the four drinks he’s downed, and Stiles wants to shove him out the window. 

“Guys,” Stiles whines, “you don’t really—”

You finish the beer in your hand and shrug your shoulders, “It’s fine.” 

Stiles’s head whips towards you, big-eyed and fish-mouthed. He can’t form words. Can’t speak any of the five languages he knows. He’s become a Stiles Stilinski skinsuit held up by a skeleton of gelatin and faulty survival instincts. 

You smile at him a little and shrug again, “It’s just a game, right?” 

You don’t say it, but Stiles can hear it with painful clarity: It doesn’t mean anything. 

Stiles doesn’t know how to say no without telling the truth. It’s not that he doesn’t want to, not exactly. Stiles wants to kiss you—of course he wants to kiss you, feels like the whole goddamn world knows he wants to kiss you and is conspiring against him—but not like this. He doesn’t want to kiss you when it’s nothing. He’s thought about it far too much, imagined it on his bedroom ceiling in the safety of darkness too many nights, to blow it all on a stupid drinking game. A stupid gym-bro’s mistake. 

Stiles had a plan. A plan he never actually had the courage to act on, but a plan nonetheless. 

He was going to hold your face with shaking hands, smooth his thumbs along the sleek line of your jaw, look you in the eyes so that you could see the disbelief, the wonder, the awe. You’d see that he was overwhelmed to the bone, to all the nerves shivering inside the marrow, and you’d have to forgive him for being so tongue-tied and awkward—for taking so long. 

And then, he’d kiss you. 

He’d kiss you again, and again, and again, until one of you started laughing, but that’d be okay because it would give him the chance to kiss your neck and whisper, 'You’re the sky, and the mountains, and everything in-between.'

'You’re dark matter; you’re gravity,' he’d kiss the words into your skin and sigh, 'you’re the only thing holding the universe together.'

But he can’t say that, so Stiles follows you into Lydia’s bedroom and wipes the sweat on his palms off on his jeans.

You’re a little giggly while you fumble for the light. It’s breathy, and you can’t meet his eyes. Stiles feels a little better knowing that you’re almost as nervous as he is. You aren’t usually the nervous kind, after all. That’s his thing. 

Stiles slides his hands into his back pockets and rocks onto his heels, “We don’t…we can just pretend that we…did it.”

“Did it?” you arch a brow, lips curling into a wry grin. “It’s just a kiss, Stiles. I thought you wanted to win? We gotta end Lydia’s streak, or she’ll be insufferable.”

Stiles’s mouth goes dry: cottony with wanting, brittle with misery. He can’t pretend anymore; he can’t pretend that he's not dying from this.  

You can’t look at Stiles’s face. Can’t see the panic. It’s why you shuffle closer to him, stiffly reach for his shoulders and awkwardly search for the least romantic place to rest your hands. Stiles’s back thuds against the wall, and you finally dart your eyes to his. “It’s fine,” you say weakly. 

There’s a loud chorus of, ‘Kiss, kiss, kiss,’ through the door, and Stiles watches the resolve harden your face. His chest rises and falls with quick, shallow exhales. He can hear his pulse ricochet around his ear canal, can feel the sweat gathering on his palms, can taste the anticipation in the air.

You roll your shoulders back a few times and shake your hands by your side, rotating your neck in a few slow circles. “Just kiss me, Stilinski. No biggie. I think we can catch up to Isaac if you hurry the hell up and plant one on—”

“Not like this!” 

Your mouth parts into a perfect little ‘o’, and Stiles’s eyes bulge when he realizes that the pathetic, desperate cry came from him. 

You fold your arms over your chest and tilt your head with an expression on your face that Stiles can’t read for the life of him. “What,” you lick your lip, and Stiles squirms with shame when he can’t stop himself from tracking the movement, “what does that mean?”

Stiles’s face spasms, and he can feel his IQ drop by tens the longer you stare at him. 

“No, I didn’t…” Stiles’s stutters, flicking his gaze to your forehead, your chin, between your brows—anywhere but your eyes. His nose scrunches as he shakes his head, “Nothing. I just—I didn’t mean like that.” Stiles isn’t entirely sure what you think he meant, but considering he can’t decide what he means, it’s a safe bet that you’re wrong.

Stiles's hands take over for his melting brain matter, gesturing wildly every-so often like the flexing and contracting add any actual meaning to his meaningless babble. “I just, we can’t like that because that’s not…Do you know, like…? It’s very, like, you don’t…” His eyelids seem to have forgotten how to blink, and Stiles thinks he’d do just about anything for a piano to fall out of the sky right about now.

The chanting outside the door gets louder; Stiles isn’t sure if it’s real or just his anxiety. Through his narrowing pinprick vision, the only thing he can see at the end of the dark, dark tunnel is Lydia’s window. The heavy purple curtains frame the opening like serendipitous velvet gift wrapping.

Stiles swallows and nods sharply, “If you’ll excuse me.”

Stiles steps around you, and you follow his path with your eyes. They’re pinched with suspicion, but mostly concern. “Stiles, what are you do—”

“I’m fine,” Stiles tries to wave off your worries with a shaky hand. 

And then he unlatches Lydia’s window and crawls on top of a chair to reach the opening.

“Okay, this makes sense. I just need a little air,” Stiles mumbles to himself. His dirty sneakers leave a clear outline of his soles on the white fur. Under any other circumstances, you’d both be desperately trying to scrub the fabric clean before Lydia found the stains and rained her wrath down upon your very fragile, bruisable bodies. Under these circumstances, you’re preoccupied with the half of Stiles’s body that’s hanging outside the window of your 3rd-story apartment.

“Stiles!” you stumble to the wall and freeze, unsure how to pull him back in without accidentally tipping him onto the concrete three floors below. 

Stiles manages to slip the rest of his body through the window without breaking any limbs. Yet. “This is what I needed. Yup, this is—” his eyes engulf his face, a wide pool of churning honey, when he finally realizes just how small the ledge is and just how far away the ground is, “ah, ha, ha!”

“Stiles!” You cover your face with your hands and shake your head over and over again. You hope, childishly, if you spin fast enough, you can rewind time back to 10 minutes ago—when Stiles was safe on the floor and you could stop yourself from giving into the silly, stupid desire to kiss him. Just once. To finally find out how it would feel.  

You peek through your fingers and wince as he stumbles towards the left. “You don’t have to kiss me!”

Stiles disappears from view, and you tumble into the hallway. You let out a low hiss when your hip slams into a sharp corner. The flare of pain is soon forgotten, however, when Stiles slams his hands against the living room window. Everyone turns to gawk at him, eight mouths wide open and not a single word is spoken until Stiles presses his entire body against the glass. 

The window hasn’t been cleaned since you all moved in, so you can’t quite make out his expression through grime and dirt, but you can hear the shrill urgency in his voice. “This is a regret—I immediately regret this.” It would be funny, how high his voice is—approaching autotuned chipmunk territory, honestly—if he wasn’t six inches away from certain death. You can all laugh about it later when Stiles is safe on the couch, you decide. After you’ve punched him in the arm for doing something so bone-shatteringly stupid, obviously. 

Malia does laugh, and Kira smacks her shoulder. You almost appreciate the levity; it reminds you that your brain needs oxygen to function.

Scott cups his hand around his mouth and shouts, “Don’t move!”

Stiles smooshes his button nose into the glass. He inhales and exhales with mad abandon, creating and erasing a cloud of condescension with every breath. “I've made a very bad mistake! I’m not trained for this!” his lips smear against the glass, muffling his cries for help. Stiles pulls back, and leaves a streak of saliva behind. At least, that patch of the window is clean now, biohazard be damned. 

It’s Scott who ends up saving the day. No surprise there. He gets Stiles through the window and shoves him onto the couch, teeth ground in what can only be described as parental frustration. 

Scott folds his arms over his chest and narrows his eyes, “You scared me half to death out there.”

Isaac snorts and rolls his eyes, quipping over Scott's shoulder, “Are you not getting enough attention?”

“I’m fine!” Stiles groans into his hands and pinches the bridge of his nose. It’s still red from being smashed against the window, and the rest of his face matches with his embarrassed flush. “I am fine! I was partly joking and at least 64% drunk!”

“Stiles, we will talk about this in the morning,” Scott’s face is stern, and his grip on Stiles’s shoulder is just as firm, “but right now, I’m gonna go do stuff with a girl.”

Scott’s face is still solemn when he high-fives Isaac, mostly out of habit. You do laugh then. Can’t help it. A little bit of relief creeps through your constricted chest when Stiles smiles. It’s brief, a little twitch at the corners of his slightly-swollen mouth, but it’s there. 

Allison rolls her eyes when Scott holds out his hand, but she still takes it and follows him towards his bedroom.

“Shut the door!” Stiles shouts at their backs. He slumps back against the couch cushions when the thudding Scott's door closing echoes through the hall.

It’s quiet for a moment. Kira shifts awkwardly, clinging to Malia’s arm for balance when the fog of alcohol spreads from her flushed cheeks to her platform combat boots. Malia doesn’t look that concerned, but she’s always been cool under pressure…and any other emotion. 

You expect Lydia to look as worried as you do, but she has a strange, calculating look in her eyes. They’re sharp in the light of her brilliance; the jade almost looks feline. 

Lydia’s beaux ends up breaking the silence with a loose laugh. His head tips back with his chuckle, and he throws his meaty arm around Lydia’s shoulders. “That was freakin’ hilarious! I mean, dude jumped out on a ledge instead of kissing a 10. Can you believe that?”

Lydia looks wholly unamused and says flatly, “I really can’t.” She fixes Stiles with a look you can’t read, but Stiles seems to understand. 

“I know.” Stiles drops his face into his hands and digs his face into the cradle of his wide palms. "I’m an idiot.”

Everyone seems to hear a cue that you missed while watching Stiles’s chest rise and fall. Malia, Kira, and their plus one filter out the door one-by-one, and Isaac kisses your cheek before wrapping his scarf around his neck. You’re relieved again when you hear Stiles scoff; it’s something he always does when Isaac puts on one of his pretentious kerchiefs in the balmy, LA weather. It’s nice to see some things are still the same. 

Lydia stares at Stiles, and they have a silent conversation that ends with a patented Lydia Martin glare and a quintessential Stiles Stilinski squint. 

Lydia leaves with her late night delight and kiss to your other cheek, and suddenly it’s just you and Stiles. 

You wring your fingers together, gnawing on the lining of your cheek. You can’t think of anything to say. To Stiles. You never thought you’d see the day. 

The couch creaks with Stiles’s shifting weight. He pushes himself to his feet and stands in front of you. The redness in his face has faded, baring the smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose that you’re so fond of. His lips part. Your breath stills, waiting. Wanting. His silence washes over the room like a flood, and you close your eyes. You’re afraid of it, witnessing the inevitable wreckage. 

It doesn’t come. 

You hear the quiet padding of Stiles’s footsteps. When you open your eyes, he’s gone, slinking down the hall to his bedroom. You stare at the place he was just standing, feeling the chill of his absence, and then it’s gone. A glaring blaze of anger warms your face, and you allow it to carry you to Stiles’s closed door. What a metaphor; the thought grinds your molars together until they screech.  

You wrench his door open, and Stiles jumps, halfway out of his jeans. He stumbles over the cuffs and almost falls on his face. You wish you could tease him, laugh until you snort and Stiles glares at you through his pathetic attempt to hide his smirk. But you can’t. Not yet. 

“You’re really just going to leave it like that?” you say, closing his door behind you. It’s preemptive; you feel a little like yelling. “That was a whole other level of stupid, Stiles, even by your standard.” 

Stiles quickly yanks his pants back up and buttons them, struggling with the zipper and his twitching fingers. “Can we just not,” Stiles rubs a hand over his face, looking infinitely older than he is, and mumbles a hollow, “actually, can we never.”

The words hang heavily in the air. In the harrowing quiet, you think: Oh god, is this it? Is this really the end?

Stiles stares at his feet, at the hole he’s wearing in the oak floor. He hears it too, the weight of what he’s done. Fucking hell, he thinks, I didn't know cowardice could be so loud.

You smooth your hands over your hair, clasping for any semblance of composure. “I just…I didn’t realize that the thought of kissing me was so…traumatic.” 

Stiles jerks his head from the floor and tugs his fingers through hair. He pulls at the roots until it stings and shakes his head, “That’s not…you’re,” he gestures towards you helplessly and swallows the millions of things he wants to say, “you.” 

“Yeah,” your shoulder lifts in a tiny shrug, arms winding around your torso like a brace, “that seems to be the issue.”

Stiles just looks at you for a moment. The lamp on his desk bathes his skin in a wave of warmth when he tilts his head. The tip of his nose casts a shadow over his lips, and you want to trace the divot in his cupid’s bow, the little lines by his nose, the hollow space under his eyes. You want to trace them all with your fingertips and then memorize them with your mouth. 

Stiles's eyes are golden in the light, and they’re stuck on yours. 

“You are…” Stiles closes his eyes, and his voice is so soft, so devout, “you are so fucking...inescapable, you know that? You are…you’re so deep inside my head, I can’t do anything without thinking about you. It’s becoming a serious fuckin’ problem—a nuisance, actually, a nuisance. And it’s not like I haven’t tried to stop, y’know, like it would be fuckin’ awesome if I could just forget how you smell like going home and a goddamn spring meadow, or if I could go fuckin’ grocery shopping without looking for those impossible to find chips with the Elmer Fudd lookin’ fucker on ‘em—”

“Hot fries,” you whisper hoarsely. 

Stiles stops pacing for a moment and nods at you, “Thank you—hot fries. And I would love it if I could walk down the street, just once, and not look for a dog to take a picture of, just so I have an excuse to text you without looking like I was just thinking about you—even though I was obviously just thinking about you because, re my previous ranting, there’s literally not a single second of the day that you're not on my mind. You're just…inevitable.” 

“And…I am Iron Man?” your smile is wobbly. 

Stiles gives you a flat look over his shoulder, “You’re a smartass—but I love that. I love everything about you—even the way you talk through my favorite movies and force-feed me a vegetable once a week.” 

“Stiles,” you swallow shallowly and rest your hand on his chest. Stiles stops pacing and meets your gaze with big, endless eyes and blinking butterfly lashes. Tipping your head to the side, you swipe your thumb over his thudding heart, “What are you trying to say?”

Stiles rests his hand on top of yours, clunkily lacing your fingers together for a little stability. “I love you,” he whispers, because he has to. It has to be this soft. It has to stay just between you and him, in the little bubble of air between your lips. “I’ve been in love with you since…” Stiles chews on his lip, trying to pinpoint when he knew, when he knew that you’re it for him. There are so many moments that come to mind, and he can’t pick a single one. It’s just that the line between mud pies, and t-ball, and this is so blurry. Stiles can’t tell where it really begins and where it ends. 

It feels boundless, Stiles thinks, infinity. It’s something, somewhere, past the edge of the universe. He’s yours infinitely. There is no before he loved you, and there is no after. It’s just always.

Stiles breathes and sighs out his answer, “Forever. I’ve loved you since forever, and I couldn’t—I can’t kiss you if it doesn’t mean anything.”  

Your lips curve slowly. It’s a nervous smile, one that’s afraid of the rug being yanked out from under happily ever after. “You love me?” you say quietly, voice little and meek. 

The tip of Stiles’s tongue darts out, wetting his lip. He nods slowly and rubs the back of his neck—an anxious tick you know very well. You’ve watched Stiles for eighteen years, after all. You’ve studied the tendons in his neck, how they flex when he crooks his head down to read, how it makes your belly warm more than it should. You know he flexes his fingers exactly three times before starting a test, and you know that the long veins in his arms are the most stupidly attractive things you’ve ever seen. He’s the most attractive thing you’ve ever seen, and you’ve loved him for so long it’s written in your bone marrow. 

Stiles scratches his neck until it’s pink and raw, and you pull his hand away instinctively. He smiles at you so timidly it breaks your heart, “Is that okay?” 

You nod, and nod, and nod. “Very okay. Very, very okay. The most okay of all the okay’s.” It’s so fast, and it’s been so long, but mostly it’s right. Like this is the only logical conclusion, the answer to a cold case that took eighteen years to solve. Your life has always been youandstiles, and that sounds a whole like forever. 

Slipping a hand to the back of his neck, you run your thumb along the knobs of his spine and whisper, “I am so ridiculously in love with you, boy wonder.” 

Stiles grins. It starts small, fond, tender—but the more times he hears it, every time she loves me, she loves me, she loves me bounces around his ribcage, his grin gets a little bigger, a little brighter. Soon, it stretches across his entire face and swallows you whole. He looks more than alive like this; you want to taste the electricity in his mouth. 

You smile at each other for a long time, and you look at Stiles through your lashes. “So,” you tip your chin and bat your eyes, “you gonna kiss me?”

Stiles is going to kiss you. He swears. He’s just…he’s thinking too much after an evening of not thinking at all. He’s been waiting for this for forever, and what if his lips are dry—or, worse, what if they’re too wet? What if his hands are cold and clammy, and you can feel his sweat when he cups your cheeks. He definitely feels sweaty. And nervous. And—

You rock onto your tiptoes and kiss him. It’s a little kiss, soft and short, but everything goes static and neon around you. You let out a little sigh, start to pull away—and Stiles whimpers. His hands surges forward and latches onto the back of your neck, pulling your mouth back to his. 

Stiles slides the breadth of his large palm up and down your back, chasing the rhythm of your breath. There isn't much to chase, you think deliriously, you aren’t really sure if you need oxygen to survive anymore. You like swallowing his sounds and tasting his tongue far more than breathing. It feels like Stiles agrees with you when he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you into his chest, digging his fingers into the small of your back until there’s nowhere else for you to go. Silly boy. As if you’d rather be anywhere else. 

He makes the sweetest little noises in-between your kisses, softening the wet smacking of lips and tongues. You chase them, learning what he likes by unraveling him one sound at a time, with a tug on his hair here, a nibble on his lip there, and your hands just about everywhere.

It’s hot. Literally. You can feel heat licking your skin—or maybe that’s just Stiles. Your head is a little fuzzy from his kisses and not enough oxygen, and logic is a distant thought. Breathing. People need to breathe. 

Stiles’s nose bumps against yours when he pulls back. He smiles drunkenly and leans in for one more kiss. It’s quick and open-mouthed, two little brushes of his lips, and it steals what’s left of the air in your lungs. 

Stiles brushes your hair back and rests his forehead against yours. His breath chills your spit-slick, swollen mouth, and you shiver at the look in his eyes. “I meant something like that.”

[fairly-fairy-shampoo]

“In Every Universe”

🌙Summary: Everything about your situationship with Yeonjun seemed perfect. There were no rules, no romantic feelings, and you stayed friends. But when jealousy leads to a falling out between the two of you, Yeonjun is forced to look inward and reevaluate his feeling for you as well was what kind of relationship he wants with you. The question is, are his feeling more powerful then fate?

Genre: NSFW, FLUFF, ANGST

Pairing: yeonjun x fem!reader × Soobin

Warnings: none

Chapter 10

“What do you mean you don’t like to dance! You're legit a performer!”

“ It’s- I never said I DIDN'T like to dance I just…I don’t know. In a club setting. That's like WORLDS different than being a practice room. There people and everyone’s so… so close together. And there’s so much.. I don’t know expectation around what do to.”

You scoffed at the idea of him not being able to freestyle “Soobin… you're afraid to freestyle! “

Soobin rolled his eyes `` Well not freestyle obviously but like-” she downs another shot of soju and he chuckles to himself. “ you really don’t know the rules of the game do you?” Your supposed to drink after you share some embarrassment or a fear. Not just drink freely” she shrugged and brought her elbow to the table to point at him, squinting.

“ you do realize you have legit formal training. And I can… like MOVE that’s it. I’d be ruined if the public found out I couldn’t ACTUALLY dance. I can just move really well” she started pouring another shot for herself. “You on the other hand cause you to move so well! I’d even go as far as saying your hmm I don’t know a DANCER! So you sir have no excuse! DRINK! “

“Hey Woah no! This is a real fear!” He said trying to defend himself “ like say someone wants to come up and dance with me. How do you say no! ESPECIALLY if they're drunk! Like I don’t want to be rude. Or even worse what if I want to dance with them like

Where do I…” he looked around kinda nervously and whispered. “ where do I put my hands…” she raised her eyebrows. “ you know when I like- when they try to dance with me and stuff…” she continued to just stay are him. The sound of other conversations going on around creeping in around them. God it moments like this when he misses your endless talking just filling the space. When you get quiet like this is so Erie and awkward. Because now it’s his job to fill it. And that just not his specialty, he’s the listener and your the talker. It your dynamic! You talk about ending and everything. Sharing so much about your likes, dislikes, random thoughts, life experiences and asking questions. And he listens. Just happy to be in your company and hear your voice. Soobins always been called a good listener but he’s not sure if it just cause he actually is. Or he just doesn’t engage in conversation that much. But with you! He feel like an actual good listeners. Letting you take the lead and he just follows behind. Which is why you not speaking scares the shit outta him. Especially after saying something he thinks is so stupid.

“Soobin… your really not beating these virgin allegations hon ” soobins felt his whole face heat up and his heart race picked up choking on his water. As you started to laugh. “Omg omg Soobin I was just joking!” she says laughing helping him wipe up the table as he coughed. Jesus, did you really think he was virgin!? Fuck! How is he supposed to fix this I mean he can’t just straight say he’s not ,cause he will just sound like even more of one trying to explain himself-

“Your so cute , I can’t with you”

…Soobin feels like he was floating. You leanded forward to wipe his mouth. He could feel himself staring but he couldn’t stop. You looked to pretty so focused of his mouth. So caring and attentive even tho you're just a few shots away from him having to walking you up to you apartment. Again. You could hold your liquor so when you drank you went pretty hard, but you never eat enough to combat that. He hated it. He on the other hand was Terrible At drink. Although he really does enjoy it ,he really does suck at it.

“Okay so, here’s how we fix your dilemma.” You took another shot. “We take you to a club. Simple! Right?”

He started to shoot out protests like “ I wouldn’t even know- know where to go” or “ that would make me even more nervous” and “ I can’t go with guys there’ll make fun of me and then try to help and I do NOT want Gyu or Junies help!” And finally “ WHAT IS THE PRESS SEE’s me breaking news Tomorrow by Together leader can’t dance for shit !” You rolled your eyes reaching for the water. Which he was grateful for. He hated telling you to have water when you're drinking. Made him feel like he was being rude or something.

“Oh god you're so dramatic…” you took a sip of water “We don’t have to rush over there now we’ll go when you're ready okay?” You gave a soft smile and then moved on to another conversation. Soobin wanted to listen but he couldn’t move past the WE you said. As in him and you. You wanted to go dancing. With him!

The two of you. JUST the two of you!

“I told you shouldn’t have drank that much. Where are your keys?” Soobin starts looking through the bag as you sit there head on his shoulder. He leans in to whisper so the driver wouldn’t hear you. “Do you have to throw up ? Cause if so tell me” you shake your head no and then grab on to his arm.

“No just sleepy…I miss my dogs soobinnie” she says nuzzling into his arm. He sighs and pats your head a bit and then goes back to looking for your keys. You always miss your dogs when you get drunk. You couldn’t bring them with you when you moved here and you can’t bring yourself to get one here.

“I know I know. Here let’s go.” Soobin opened the door and helped you out. You immediately clung on to him stumbling to the door and into the elevator. Once we got into your house he let you lay on the couch as he got you some water to sip on. He always liked the way your apartment looked and smelled. Like someone just finished burning a candle or something. And the decorations were so cute and stylish and just so overwhelming. “Okay sit up , do you want some ramen or- Y/N?” He looked around until he heard a mumble or words coming from your room. He moves over to find you laying in your room clothes and shoes on the floor and under your covers.

“ Soobinnie my head hurts” he smiles walking over getting you to sit up and handing you the water to drink.

“ I left for a second when did you have a chance to change clothes.” He chuckled. As you start to drink he grabs the makeup wipes off the dresser. “ Here, look at me.” He gently grabbed your face turning it towards him and gently took off your makeup.

“Soobin?” His eyes met yours and he immediately got nervous. The way your eyes were boring into him. They looked so big looking up at him.

“Yes?” He swallowed hard. How do you not realize the effect you have on him?

“Can you stay with me …please” … a moment frozen in time. Soobins fully not FUCKING WORKING. Do you know what you just asked? God you don’t know what you do to him. He feels like he could never say no to you. You could ask him to eat the spiciest thing on planet earth and he’d do it for you. But right now he knows he shouldn’t. It wouldn’t be right. You just started being friends again with Yeonjun. And that's truly where your heart lies. And if Yeonjun found out! You must have sensed his inner turmoil because you said “ Not like that perv ” you said drunkenly giggling and hitting his arm. “ it’s just…” your giggles faded out. “ I don’t wanna be alone tonight.” You looked away from him. You looked so sad he hates when you look sad like that. He reached his hand out gently towards yours wanting to take it so bad. He was inches away from it. “ Please Soobie !” You quickly turned around hands in a praying position. He quickly took his hand back towards his chest. Eyes wide at how close you were getting. He could see the small marks adoring your face, the small difference in the color of your eyes.

“I mean…if it means that much to you I guess I can stay” he gave a small nervous smile which was very different from the huge grin on your. He swallowed hard. “ where should I go ?” He was cut off by you throwing your arms around his shoulders pulling him down onto the bed giggling and smiling. He felt as stiff as a board it was so quick he could’ve even process how he found himself laying next to you like this. “ I think um…I think I should sleep on the couch or something.

I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything”

“ your not making me uncomfortable! are you?…” he shook his head, not holding his breath subconsciously sitting as still as he could staring at the ceiling. You clung onto his arm and wrapped your legs around his leg. A few moments passed with silence and he began to feel your breath rise and fall. He prayed you were asleep so we could leave on the couch… well parts of him did. The other had never felt more happy in this life. But it was time to leave. “ Soobin?” “Hmm?” He turned his head expecting you to be sleep talking. But your eyes met wide open. Had you been staring at him! You pause mouth open to say something “ …your so warm.” The two of you continued to stare until you sat up drunkenly to turn off the light, he reached out to stabilize you but you were fine, and then you crawled back into bed pulling the covers over the two of you. Soobin laid on the side away from you and did the same. Silence consumed the room until you spoke again.

“ Soobin?” “ yeah!” “I- I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable before. I never really think about boundaries with people I’m close with so I don't think about the way I behave can come off as inappropriate. So if I’m ever being to much or just…” your voice faltered for a moment

“It just felt good to not be alone you know and I don’t I’m just sorry i-” Soobin felt like he body moved on his own when he turned over and reached turning you over and pulled you into him. A gasp leaving your body as he cut you off.

“ You could never. So don't worry. Just sleep okay.” You hesitated for a moment and then cautiously wrapped your arms around him burying your head into his chest. He could swear he felt you inhaling his scent but could just be wishful thinking.``Don’t you need music to fall asleep?” He said gently “ I know you I’m have trouble sleeping”

He could feel you smile. “This will work just fine”

~Previous- Master list -Next ~

[0celesteisthebest0]

This fic is legit everything that I need from life J! Like seriously I am super in love with Fennec and having her as a KNIGHT!! Is really just dreamy and makes me long for that reality.

Her fluid movements would definitely take my breath away, I would ignore everything and anything to focus solely on Fennec! Like I'm sorry king but do you see how how Fennec is! Yeah no I love her and the fact that the king plucked a flower from your crown to give to her makes my heart MELT!

The excitement and worry of the battle against Calican and Fennec! AND THE IMMEDIATE UPROAR CAN GET YOU DRUNK IN EXCITEMENT FOR FENNEC!

HEHEHE and I CAN'T HELP BUT BLUSH AT THIS LINE CAUSE IT KILLS ME!

"The small smile and wink sent your way. Striking her target, one last time."

YOU HAVE RUINED ME J! Like seriously I am dead on the floor and I am truly floored by the line, striking her target like how she was in the competition! She has already taken my heart, won every competition possible.

AAA and the imagery you paint with the comfy surroundings Of Fennec's tent full of pillows and supplies! GOD and her in her armor is so freaking hot and I love it. THEN HER HANDS AAAAAa

SHE COULD NOT LOSE WITH OUR FAVOR UGHHGH I love her so much. THEN SHE PULLED OUT THE FLOWER FROM YOUR CROWN!

OH if i was dead on the floor now I am ascending in the sky! BECAUSE J HOLY SHIT!

"You know..." Her head tilts, then- with the sly curl of a smile, "In some tournaments, the victor is awarded a prize."

I'll do anything for her! Anything and everything! At first i was like aaaaw a kiss and then I WAS LIKE OHH SHE WANTS A VERY SPECIFIC KISS TO DIFFERENT LIPS OKAY LOL

OH... WAIT I ASSUMED HEHE but damn that fucking kiss! Then the pretty sight of them together just leaves me longing for her!

THE IMAGERY OF KISSING HER ARMOR IS AAAAA oh my god the fact she is worrying about the dress and the dirt you got on it but like that does not freaking matter all that matters is going down on Fennec!

I also love that you dispersed the importance of royalty and how people of your station don't typically do this! But of course you don't care because well that is Fennec!

EEE and the quiet love taking apart the armor and bending down to see her and AAA its amazing truly I love it.

The whole scene is so beautiful with reader learning with every movement and getting more and more bold. I just love the fact that Fennec is receiving such pleasure after such a win because she deserves something freeing and lovely! AA and her praise and telling reader how good she is doing makes me love her even more!

Of course Fennec was right, if Fennec looked at me I'd turn into a puddle of goo. And then she PLEASURED YOU TENFOLD GAAAAH

THIS IS ONE OF MY FAVORITE PARTS OF THE FIC BECAUSE BOTH OF YOU ARE SO IN LOVE WITH EACH OTHER!!

"My winnings," She smiles, with a happy lilt to her voice, "And here I thought I'd already had them."

TO THEM!! J! SERIOUSLY THE CONCEPT OF FENNEC AS A KNIGHT! ONE WHO IS IN LOVE WITH THEIR PRINCESS IS SOOOOOO DELICIOUS OF AN IDEA AND THIS IS DEFINITELY ONE OF MY FAVES!!

Thank you for this beautiful fic love, it's beautiful really it's a fic that I yearn for!

— the knight and her lady

knight!fennec shand x princess!reader

rated E - 3.7k

prompts - “can I kiss you?” & fairytale au

tags: medieval/fairytale au, soft sapphic romance, use of weapons in a competition, power dynamic (princess & knight), forbidden love, soft!dom Fen & inexperienced reader, kissing, fingering, implied squirting, oral sex

written for @flightlessangelwings’s Pride Challenge!

You shouldn’t know how to take her apart. It’s not proper, not at your station. If anyone found out, rumors would spread like wildfire. You’d surely be sent home - separated from her.

But your fingers move easily - plucking at buckles and straps. Piece by piece, as fluidly as she had put you together this morning.

You supposed you should be paying more attention to your host - but you can’t tear your eyes away from the knight in front of you.

The sun glinting off her forge-blackened armor, her movements still fluid even with the extra weight of the steel. Joining the long row of competitions, an ornate longbow slung across her back.

It’s been a long day. A good day - the tournament bringing in visitors for miles. Filling the wooden seats and air with laughter and music. With roasting meat and summery, fruity mead.

But still, you watch.

Fingers clasped, pressed on a knee that bounces with anticipation.

You don’t think he minds. The singularity of your attention, content to sit in near-silence next to you. A month ago you would’ve been ashamed at yourself - ignoring the King like this - but at the moment, you can’t bring yourself to care.

If he had minded, you think that he wouldn’t have taken the flower you had clutched so tightly to your chest. Plucked from the woven crown of greenery and flora around your head, handmade for today.

Telling you he’d “get this where it needed to go” in those few moments before the first event began.

It’s the last event of the afternoon, now - the morning filled with rounds of jousting, the clash of hand-to-hand combat.

You had worried she’d entered both - had felt the butterflies in your stomach when the quiet, silver knight she was seen with so often with took to the field.

But he had been alone. And had been victorious, in the end. A flurry of black slashes with his sword had seen to that.

Part of you wondered if she had attended, if that still would have been true.

The shrill sound of a whistle cuts through the air, as the participants line up. The wave of a green and gold banner as the first arrows fly.

There's the loosening of strings - arrowing flying in arcs towards the target mounds, with their painted red centers. Several falling short, the feathers quivering in the wind, most piercing through cloth and earth within the neat rings.

Scores called out as competitors are eliminated, the judges marking notes down on their scrolls. Those removed make their way to the border, to call out and heckle their friends with the rest of the crowd.

Ser Shand remains for this round, and then the next.

You watch with bated breath as her fingers crook around the string as each round passes. Thinking about last night and the ones before.

A slow, building boldness of wandering mouth and fingers. Stroking over silk and steel, soft sounds swallowed by the night.

Each release sends an arrow flying neatly down the field, landing in the red middle circle again and again. Again and again, until there were only two competitors left on the field.

The suspense was palpable, that teasing chatter dwindling down to nothing. The fabled ‘assassin-turned-knight’ competing with the up-and-coming Lord Calican - this would-be duel that would be spoken about for weeks after.

You had utmost faith in your knight, but you couldn't help the worry as the wind rustled your skirts, tugged at your crown of flowers. Fingers reaching up to pull it down a little tighter, just as the flag waves again.

The crowd holds their breath.

They fire at the same time.

There's an uproar, as the arrows hit. The judges racing to look, Lord Calican turning on Ser Shand. A pointing finger at the mounds, down at her feet. Even from here you can see the arch of her brow, rising in disbelief.

You don't even notice the way your hand drifted down, curling in the soft green velvet of the King's sleeve. Only when his gloved hand comes down to pat against yours, do you realize - letting go quickly and sheepishly.

The small smile he sends your way is kind. As is his answer, as he replies to the advisor next to him - asking if he should step in.

"My knight is not so easily bested." The King boasts, with a dismissive wave of his hand, "Here, just watch."

You can just make out the argument. It's clear that her arrow flew straight and true, hitting dead center. His off, just a hair lower on his own target.

Rounding on her to claim that she had taken a step closer while firing - had been out of bounds.

There's a knowing and condescending smile, as he turns red in the face with argumentative anger. Leaving him mid-rant to move a handful of meters back. Close to the edge of the field, before she stops.

Turning - taking barely a second to fit an arrow, aim, and fire.

It flies down the field in silence.

Striking where her first had landed, splintering it down the middle.

The crowd explodes. Shouting and cheering as they all decide the winner on their own. Your voice joins theirs as you find yourself leaping to your feet, leaning against the tall rail in front of you.

Excitement and joy and something else, something honey-sweet swirls in your stomach. Your heart thudding in your chest as you see her turn - finding your eyes in the crowd.

The small smile and wink sent your way.

Striking her target, one last time.

You sneak into the tents, after.

Scattered across the open field, gathered around small campfires. It would be easier to travel back the mile or so into the city, but it was a long-held tradition to stay on the grounds the night before a tournament.

Easier to group up, to celebrate. Less mess to clean when playful song and teasing turned into drunken brawls between sore-losing, mead-filled competitors.

Lifting the crimson flap of the tent emblazoned with her symbol. Large for its size - a nest of pillows and a bedroll tucked off to the side, upon the thick carpet of grass. A wide bench on the far wall, one edge littered with fletching supplies. Two chairs and a sturdy table standing on a coarsely-woven rug.

She's there - still clad in that dark armor. Plucking the archery gloves from her fingers in a way that has your eyes dropping down to her fingers again. Watching as they appear from behind the leather, as you hover just inside.

Lingering, until her eyes are lifting. A smile coming then, a flash of pretty teeth between the curve of her lips.

You go to her, letting the flap fall behind you. The tent well-light in the afternoon sun, filtering in pretty shades of red and gold.

“You were incredible.” You tell her, almost shyly. The way you had been watching had felt almost vouyeristic, but maybe that was just the winding of your thoughts, the slow sweep of your eyes.

“I could not lose, with your favor.” Fennec’s fingers work at her armor. Loosening her chestplate enough to dip inside, draw out the rose from where it nestled between her breasts.

Plucked so carefully from your woven crown, the color tipping from pink towards purple. It spins between her fingertips, the hidden meaning not at all lost on her.

“You know…” Her head tilts, then - with the sly curl of a smile, “In some tournaments, the victor is awarded a prize,

It still stuns you, even though she gives them to you freely.

But you’re familiar with the customs. A favor bestowed, a bag of coin awarded.

“What would you ask for?” You question with a little furrow of your brow - taking those few steps, until you’re reaching the edge of the rug.

“Perhaps a kiss from a fair maiden?” She taps her chin thoughtfully, though her eyes never leave your face. Asking it like a question, though you’re sure she’s been planning this.

Sending up a flutter in your stomach, your heart kicking up a beat.

“Is that all you desire?” You own question comes out breathless, as she steps closer.

Her smile is enigmatic - her rose set down carefully on the table. Your tongue peeking out to wet your lips, eyes dropping to the pretty curve of hers.

Your eyes start to drift shut, the anticipation curling sweetly in your stomach.

But it doesn’t come - the press of her lips. The swipe of a tongue. Instead, there’s the pressure of her fingers ghosting against your hips, her voice in your ear.

“Mm. I didn’t say where, sweetness.”

Her voice is low, throaty. It sends a little shiver up your spine, as her innuendo sinks in. It had your eyes opening, surprise lingering in the pretty part of your lips.

“Your face,” She laughs, but not unkindly. “You are too sweet, little bird.”

Her touch lifts then, fingers catching your chin and tilting it towards her face.

Lips pressing against your cheek, feather-light. Then your jaw, the soft spot under your ear as you melt against her.

“Can I kiss you, princess?” She husks, “Would you let me take what is mine?”

In your head, you answer. An eager affirmative that comes out as a soft whine, instead. Another low, rasping laugh before her mouth is pressing to yours, finally giving you what you need.

Your fingers clench around steel, the heavy leather of her belt. She swallows your sigh, a soft curl of her lips in a hidden smile before she’s tasting you, licking into your mouth.

There had been shock, before - you won’t deny that. Heat rising to your cheeks at her words, so very public.

She loved your sweetness, the arch of your brows, the little intake of air. So very different than the rough and tumble of the other knights and soldiers.

But it didn’t mean you didn’t know. That you didn’t want.

A little fire that you’ve kindled in your belly, all day. The spark starting as she snuck up from the field to find you that morning - fingers brushing over your waist, the curves of your breasts as she helped you lace up the back of your dress.

“Such a pretty thing,” She had cooed, smoothing down the layers of fabric, the spray of stars embroidered across your skirts.

You had thought she meant the dress - until you caught her gaze in the mirror you were facing.

It was a pretty sight - her arms around you. You were sure your thoughts had reflected hers, in that moment.

How easy it would be to slip a hand beneath your skirts - to loosen the laces of your chemise. A thrill has thrummed in your veins, until a knock had sounded at the heavy wooden door.

Mourning the proximity, as she had stepped away.

It makes you want to take her little tease, twist it into something tangible. Pulling back from the warm press of her mouth to murmur a question against her neck.

“Can I kiss you, too?” Your lips brush her neck, that sliver of skin above the cold iron of her gorget.

You can feel the hum of her laugh, as her chin tips up to give you more room, “I’d say you are, princess.”

The way she sighs the title makes you not despise it. No simpering in her tone, nothing to remind you of your duties and promises that you want nothing more than to break.

It has your mouth moving. Pressing kisses to her armor, leaving the ghost of your breath against the cold, dark iron.

A hitch in her breath as you begin to lower yourself, reaching the curve were the metal is shaped at her chest. Gathering your skirts in one hand as you reach the bottom of her cuirass.

Her fingers are twisted in the fabric at your shoulders - eyes dark when you glance up. Unable to resist the pull of you on your knees for her, out in this field, stolen away in her tent.

A second, as she blinks - coming back to herself.

“Your dress, little bird-” She protests, knowing how much you had been looking forward to wearing it.

It feels like nothing now. Not even wrinkles or the threat of dirt could sway you.

Your face tips up as the want reflects in your own eyes, “Please. I want to. I’ve thought about it, I-”

You’ve dreamed about it. Tasting her more than just the slip of your fingers against your tongue. Not doing so before because she’s never asked, and you’ve been too shy to.

Wondering if it would be something she’d want - not knowing how to navigate this path with someone who’s bound to you in such a way that made desire and duty so confusing.

Your words are enough. A sharp exhale of breath as she takes a step backwards, the spread of her thighs as she lowers herself to that wooden bench.

It takes no time for you to fit between them. A small glance over your shoulder to make sure the tent flap is closed, before your fingers are slipping beneath her armor.

“I’ll keep watch, sweetness.” She husks, leaning back to let you work, “Don’t you worry.”

You shouldn’t know how to take her apart. It’s not proper, not at your station. If anyone found out, rumors would spread like wildfire. You’d surely be sent home - separated from her.

But your fingers move easily - plucking at buckles and straps. Piece by piece, as fluidly as she had put you together this morning.

Revealing the dyed linen of her surcoat - black and edged with red embroidery. Her cuirass set gently against the edge of the bench as her hips raise enough that you can tug down her trousers, letting them pool around her ankles.

She’s unashamed, thighs parted for you. Hands brace on the bench - watching you as your eyes drift down to where only your fingers have been, in the dark.

Thrilled at the way she glistens, that you did that yourself. Nerves and desire twisting and fluttering in your stomach like the fletching on the arrows, before.

Trying to thinking about when she’s kissed you, like this. How every touch and brush of her tongue brought pleasure you had never known. Thinking that you could do that, that you wanted to - for her.

She murmurs your name as you move. A soft kiss to her center, letting your tongue peek between your lips. Dragging against her slit, tasting the sweet tang of her cunt, unable to help groaning into her as your hand comes to wrap around her calf.

Getting more bold, with each of her shaky breaths. Listening and learning each little sound, determined to do well for her.

Finding the hard, sensitive bud beneath the dark curls - feeling the pinch of her fingers against your shoulder when your tongue flattens against it.

An eager shift forward, pressing yourself further against her. Eyes closing when a moan buzzes in her throat, hands brushing your cheeks, the hinge of your jaw. Closing around the crown, bruising the petals with the force of her fingers.

“Stars, sweet girl,” She sighs, a gentle buck of her hips as she urges you, “Look at you, on your knees. You look so pretty, you know that?”

It shoots through you, as you clench around nothing. Unable to help squirming as your fingers trace along her thigh, up and then up.

A look up when she’s silent, only to see the clench of her jaw as she holds her sounds back. Trying to keep quiet, in this open field.

Then you hear it, muffled behind a hand, as your finger sink in. This part you know - eyes closing again as your fingers crook and curl.

Her thighs closing sharply around your shoulders when your lips return to her, a soft suck against her clit.

Tightening around you as her hips start to move, as she tugs you against her. Unable to help the panting, groaning praise.

“Right there, gods - just like that. Yes, my love, yes-”

Your eyes open just in time to watch her fall apart. Tongue pressed against the pulse of her clit as she grips your fingers, coating them with her release.

A moan pulled from her throat, high before she catches it. Her chest heaving as your fingers ease from her when she relaxes, slipping into your mouth before your tongue dips inside her.

Tasting the salty musk of your triumph, thinking you understand in this moment the way she enjoys having you beneath her.

Knowing that you’ll never want to stop, now that you’ve had a taste.

Blinking up at her as she smiles, a small shake of her head.

“Just look at you, pretty girl.”

Her thumb swipes over the slick that’s smeared across your lips, your chin. Pressing it against your bottom lip until they part - cleaning her from her fingers.

Disheveled and eyes blown wide with lust, tasting like her as she stands - swiftly tugging up her trousers before her hand is tucking under your elbow.

Pulling you to your feet as you frown, before she’s whisking you over to her bedroll. Kissing you, her tongue delving into your mouth as she lowers you down onto the pile of pillows.

“Can’t wait to touch you, sweetness.” Her voice is syrupy smooth, low in your ear, “You get so wet from me looking just at you. I bet you are soaked from eating my cunt.”

It makes you tremble, a heat rising in your cheeks at her crude words. A little laugh as she does just like you had dreamed about before.

A hand tucks behind your head as she kisses you. Stroking your tongue as her fingers work at your bodice. Breaking the kiss, only to wrap her lips around a tight nipple, flicking her tongue against it.

Your moan is loud, wanton. Unable to hold yourself back, as she had. She shoot you a look of warning, shushes you before kissing across your chest.

Grateful for her touches, as your desire thuds between your thighs. Completely eclipsing that feeling from before, making it feel no more than a flutter.

Unable to compare to the way you need her, now.

There’s a sweet satisfaction that slices through you, when she dips beneath your smallclothes. The moan into your shoulder as she hovers over you, when she realizes just how right she was.

How the soft cotton is soaked through. How her fingers meet slick skin beneath, no resistance as she immediately sinks two fingers inside.

You gasp at the stretch, teeth biting down on a whine. Unable to see anything other than the bare curves of your breaths, your skirts piled high.

But she leans down to look, a soft purr to her voice, “Oh princess. My needy little thing.”

Telling you how pretty you look with her fingers in you, as her thumb presses against your clit. Your eyes fixed on the teeth that sink into her lip, as she tugs down the cotton to bare you fully.

Watching the shine of her fingers as they pump into you. You’d be embarrassed at how wet you are, how swiftly she builds you up and up, if you hadn’t been waiting for her touch for so long.

A soft cry when her mouth returns to your breasts, the ache as she makes a mark that will be hidden by your bodice. Something just for her - later, before she’s tasting herself on your tongue again.

Swallowing your gasps as you squirm, her fingers pounding and crooking against a place that steals your breath. Pinning you down with a thigh that straddles yours.

Her own soft growls as she sees you start to come undone - the glazed look in your eyes. Remembering how sweet and eager you were for her - wanting to return that feeling a million times over.

“Want to make you come, princess.” Her mouth is against your ear, as your hands fist in her surcoat, “Let me feel you, sweet thing.”

Fennec’s elbow presses into the bedroll as she leans over you. Her fingers unrelenting as your vision grows hazy. Your senses filled with her and only her, as she presses kiss after kiss to your trembling lips.

Humming low in her throat as your fingers pinch harder into the cloth. A tiny, wrung-out gasp of her name, as something builds and builds - pushing you past a point you didn’t know you had.

And then, it snaps. Pleasure and relief pounds in your veins, the thud of your heart drowning out the sounds of your cries as she catches them with her mouth.

Her fingers unrelenting, dripping with you as she fucks you through the tight pulses of pleasure. Her palm slapping against slick skin as she draws it out, until your fingers untwine. Reaching down to catch her hand, unable to take it any longer.

Thoroughly worn out, overcome with your pleasure. Unable to do more than press a hand against your face as she leans over to look at the mess you made.

Another soft groan at her cat-like smile - fingers tracing against your damp thighs as she revels in this new discovery.

“Gods. I can’t wait to watch you do that again tonight.”

Kissing away your embarrassment, with soft encouragement peppered between each press of her lips. How it slowly fades as she wraps herself up with you, curled together on her bedroll.

Grateful for the way she had pulled your skirts up and out of the way - always looking out for you. Watching over you as you doze, the red and gold speckles of sunlight warm against your face.

It’s easy to forget then, about your worries. Wondering how this story between you would end. How this love that had blossomed between you could ever fully flourish in the sun.

Instead, it’s just a glorious day. An evening to bask in, and celebrate.

Staying sleepy and content until her name is called, and she’s throwing you a look - quickly helping you lace your bodice up. Smoothing down her own clothes while she steps outside.

Coming back with her arms laden with gifts - a sack of gold, a basket of fresh fruit. A heavy bottle of spotchka, tucked under her arm.

“My winnings,” She smiles, with a happy lilt to her voice, “And here I thought I’d already had them.”

You know that right now, your smile mirrors hers.

As she leans down to kiss you, once again.

purple roses can symbolize love at first sight! it can also mean adoration and fascination with someone (& used the term ser in a very ‘ser brienne of tarth’ sort of way)

and lastly - thank you Jey, for hosting this challenge! Such an awesome idea, I was excited for the chance to contribute a fic. 💖

[shorkbrian]

I swear I ain’t in it for the money, but I can’t stop thinking about sugar daddy shoto. Maybe he sweeps a cute little college kid or barista of their feet, just something fun and casual. But this man starts falling harder, needing a way to lock them down to him. Money isn’t quite cutting it anymore, so he decides fucking a baby into her would do the trick. Shoto would push her down into the mattress, large frame twisting her into a sweet mating press. This way they could stay together forever and Shoto would have absolutely no problem providing for his sweet family <3

but fr tho I feel like Shouto is NOT the type for kids.

Mans will tolerate them when they babble or wave at him, but he very actively Does Not Want them.

Always uses condoms, and even though he’ll threaten not to, it’s never a legit thought in his mind to cum inside. Shouto doesn’t want to be a dad.

-----

You’ll be sittin on a park bench, fading sunset dark and pretty in front of you yet all you can do is cry. There’s not really any people around so it’s not like you’re bothering anyone - you hadn’t wanted to cry in your shabby apartment (half the cause of your worries) just in case you received a noise complaint.

“Are you alright?”

A somber, smooth voice is heard. You’re swiping at your tears quickly as you look up, trying to laugh off your state of distress. “Oh, haha, yeah I’m fine. Thanks for asking.” It’s hard to smile with your puffy cheeks and red-rimmed eyes.

The man in front of you frowns, hands in his coat pockets, scarf draped around his neck. “You don’t look fine. Mind if I sit?”

He’s already claiming the spot next to you on the bench before you can say a word, turning to you with a passive expression. “Why are you crying?”

And that’s all it takes to have you breaking down all over again, tears streaming down your face. Just one person offering to listen to the heavy burden you have to bear.

‘’M sor-sorry...” You sob, wiping at your eyes with frigid fingers, successful in doing nothing more but smearing tears around your face.

“Here.” The man’s taking off his scarf, gloved hands offering it you.

“I ca-can’t use your sc-scarf sir.” But he’s insistent, pressing it into your hands up by your face.

“I’ll just get another one. Keep it, you’re in need of it more than I am.”

The kindness makes another fresh bout of tears roll down your cheeks, but this time you're able to dab them away with soft fabric as you sniffle.

It takes a moment for you to calm yourself. When you do, you can finally engage in conversation with the man.

You tell him about your job hours getting cut, how you’ve been turned down or ignored by every single place you’ve applied at for a second job. How you’re barely affording to wash your clothes - you have to hang them or drape them across things in your apartment because you don’t have the money to pay for a dryer cycle.

And to top it all off, you’re still short on rent, despite how you scrimped and saved and even forced yourself not to buy groceries this week - you’ve gone hungry for the past three days.

“You haven’t eaten?”

You glance up at the man and his incredulous expression, shaking your head. “I’ve been trying to save money, I thought I could afford my rent if-”

“What kind of food do you like?” The man is pulling out his phone, swiping and tapping immediately. 

“Thank you, but I’m not-” looking for charity is what you want to say. Plus, you shouldn’t accept favors from strange men.

But the handsome man is waving you silent. “I’m cold, plus I’d like to grab a bite to eat before I head home. I don’t like eating alone though, you’d honestly be doing me a favor.”

You take a moment to process. Is he telling the truth? He sounds like an honest guy.

“Seems like the only place open around here is “Joe’s 24 hour Diner”.... You mind burgers?”

So that's how you end up in a booth opposite the man (”Shouto” he had told you as you both headed to the diner), munching away at warm food. It tastes so good, you hardly have time to worry about the man watching you as he eats.

You’d been shocked at his looks the moment you’d seen him in the light of the diner. Pretty two-toned hair, different colored eyes, perfect skin, expensive clothes. Why was he even talking to you? It’s obvious the two of you led very different lives.

“How does everything taste?”

“Delicious.” Is your response, and Shouto seems pleased, nodding before taking another bite of his meal.

Maybe it’s stupid... but you feel weirdly safe with this man. He doesn’t seem to bear any ill-intent towards you, nor has he made any comments about your body or let his hands or eyes stray. He seems like a gentleman.

Conversation flows easily between the two of you, even sharing a few chuckles at times. He’s some fancy rich businessman, you learn, and you share about your own life, laughing at the comparisons. Shouto can’t fathom growing up in a house with less than five bedrooms and a personal servant.

He asks for your number, and you’re hesitant in giving it - he surely can’t be interested in you? But he seems so sincere, it’s hard to say no.

When the two of you part ways, Shouto gives you a wave, “Hope to see you again soon, and under better circumstances.”

“You too! And sorry for being such a mess and stopping your walk-”

Shouto shrugs, cheeks beginning to pink from the cold air as you two stand outside the diner. “You needed help. I like to assist.”

-----

The next morning you wake to find an atrociously large sum deposited in your Venmo account by none other than a Shouto Todoroki.

Immediately, you’re calling him. “It’s too much, we just met. How can you give away that much money to some low-life?”

You hear him sigh on the other end of the phone. “You’re obviously struggling. I was wondering what your hours are this week, perhaps we could talk about this over dinner? Or lunch, if that fits better with your schedule. I’m flexible.”

It’s a few days later, days spent questioning yourself, questioning his intentions, before you see him again, both of you deciding to meet for lunch to further discuss... whatever had just happened.

“Was what I gave you adequate to cover your rent?” Are the first words out of Shouto’s mouth after you greet each other.

“Yeah, more than enough-” You squirm. “But I need to ask.... why?”

“Why?”

“Why me.” 

“Oh.” Shouto’s expression clears. “That’s easy. I told you a few days ago - I like to assist. I’m quite lonely, and it feels nice to use my money on someone other than myself. I think providing for someone brings me... I wouldn’t quite say joy, but... contentment.”

You contemplate his answer for a moment. 

“Well... you saved me with my rent, I don’t really know how to thank you.”

The man leans forward. “Well.... I know it might be a bit sudden, but how would you feel accepting me as a.... benefactor of sorts?”

“You mean like a sugar daddy?” Is your immediate, blurted response. You want to slap yourself for speaking before you have the chance to think about your words, but luckily Shouto just lets out a light laugh.

“If you’d like to call it that. I’m willing to provide financial assistance for you, in exchange for companionship, if you’re willing to give it.”

Your face heats up as you drop your eyes, fidgeting nervously in your seat. “I don’t feel comfortable with a... a sexual relationshi-”

“That’s perfectly acceptable.” Shouto cuts you off before you can continue. “I wasn’t trying to insinuate a contract of that nature. I’m thinking more along the lines of accompanying me at meals, sharing experiences with me, providing company and friendship to a lonely man. If it seems that we’d like to progress further than that after we get to know each other, well, that will be addressed then. For now-” Shouto meets your eye, dipping his head a smidgeon so he can look at you directly. “All I ask for is a simple, non-intimate bond between two people.”

This is crazy.

And yet you accept.

The situation may be wild, and completely absurd, but you’d be a fool not to say yes.

Shouto is charming and handsome, respectful, courteous - you could go on and on about his positive qualities. He just seems like a sad, lonesome man swallowed by work and responsibilities, too stressed and busy to put the effort into making friends the conventional way. 

-----

Months pass by.

You’re eating at every meal, sated and never going hungry. You’re able to move into a new place, one that doesn’t smell like cigarettes and sits right next to a railroad.

Clothes aren’t a worry anymore, you have your own washer and dryer in your new apartment (Shouto offered to buy you a house, or a penthouse at the least, but you couldn’t justify it to yourself). You’re able to afford new things, and pretty dresses, shoes that are comfortable and fashionable and that fit.

You no longer have to wear clothes down until they have holes in them. You’re able to go to the doctor’s when you feel sick, able to pay for health insurance.

Life is good.

Shouto is a personable man, serious, but he can be rather funny and even crude at times.

The doubt and thoughts of “Why is he doing this for me?” and “I’m not good enough for this.” plague you, but Shouto always seems to catch on, reassuring you that you’re exactly what he needs - a friend.

And you’re more than happy to be that.

You think sometimes, that even if he wasn’t paying you, you’d still like to be friends with Shouto Todoroki.

Until he starts acting weird.

“You should just stay at my place. I have more than enough room,, it’d be easier for both our schedules. We’d get to see each other more often.”

“Uhm...” You don’t really know what to say. You like your freedom, and having your own place where you can walk around in your (expensive) underwear without being bothered.

“I think it’d be nice, don’t you? We could have breakfast every morning, you wouldn’t have to worry about traveling to and fro, we could spend more time together. We don’t see each other nearly enough.”

He’s pushing, insistent. How are you supposed to tell him no? He’s paying for your entire life. Plus, it wouldn’t be that bad to actually live with him. Shouto’s an amicable man.

So you move in.

“I bought you a few things, they’re on your bed.” 

Shouto’s striding into the kitchen where you’re making coffee, buttoning up his shirt as he comes closer. You’ve found that the man likes to sleep in nothing but boxers, shrieking and flushing an embarrassing shade the first time he’d come to wake you up with a sweet “welcome” breakfast in bed.

It’s taken a while to adjust, but you finally feel that you’re fully settled in.

“Oh, you really don’t ha-”

“I wanted to. I went through your closet - your clothes are nice, but your underwear seemed to be lacking.” He’s so matter-of-fact.

All you can do is stare at the back of his head.

“Could you pass me a spoon please?”

-----

Shouto had splurged on expensive, fancy lingerie. 

At least eight different sets were laid out on your bed. It was overwhelming. It also felt.... a bit intrusive? They were all in your size, in a complementary color for your skin tone. 

Weird.

Not as weird as the onset of Shouto’s casual touches.

You’d be reading, or drinking tea and watching cars race by on the street so far below, and Shouto would come up behind you, caress your sides before intertwining his fingers with yours on one hand. He did it as if it was a normal thing, but it felt anything but normal.

Or you’d be on the couch together, and Shouto would shuffle closer until his large body was pressed to yours, almost curled around you. The faux-cuddling was a bit more off putting. How do you tell him no?

The touches became more and more intimate, Shouto’s gifts more and more frequent until you weren’t even spending a penny, the man taking care of everything.

The arrangement was beginning to make you uncomfortable.

Shouto’s bi-colored eyes seemed to always be on you, tracing the shape of your body, watching you move, or breath, or sit. It was distracting, and you felt bad for feeling this way towards the man who’d pulled you out of poverty, but it was so unnerving.

He seemed to notice.

“You’ve been so stressed these past few days. Is something wrong?” Shouto’s rubbing a hand into your shoulder, hovering over you at the dinner table.

“No?” Is all you can manage, wiping your hands on your napkin as you finish your food.

Shouto frowns. With a sigh, his hand drops from your shoulder and the man leaves your side, heads toward the kitchen.

You clear your plate from the table, following after him so you can wash it and put it in the dishwasher before you head off to get ready for bed. 

But Shouto is rummaging in a cupboard, pulling down two wine glasses to accompany the bottle of wine that’s standing proud on the island.  It’s your favorite, a sweet wine that Shouto knows you like, always brings it out when he decides to drink whisky or bourbon after dinner.

He pops the cork and pours you a glass while you finish with your dishes, handing you the glass when you turn away from the sink, pressing it into your hands. “Let’s relax a little bit, it’ll be good for both of us.”

You’re fine with that, knowing that a little wine won’t hurt you, especially when it’s of such fine quality. You’d never dreamed that you’d be able to taste such richness in your lifetime, spend frivolous amounts of money on wine and fine eateries. Yet here you are.

Shouto pours himself a glass, barely a sip filling the bottom. The man raises it to his lips and takes a swig, grimacing a bit in his flat, unexpressive way. You giggle a little.

“Too sweet?’

The man nods, setting the glass back down. “I’m not entirely sure how you can stand to stomach it. But if it makes you happy-” He shrugs, before pulling on of the bar-stools out from under the island so he can sit facing you, long legs stretching out before him.

You look at him, and he looks at you, and then you take another sip of wine to avoid the awkwardness.

“You’re distancing yourself from me.”

The accusation is quiet, Shouto’s eyes focused on your fingers wrapped around the stem of the glass.

He’s always been straightforward with his words. “Is there a reason you keep drawing away?”

The wine disappears from your glass, sliding down your throat and settling in your stomach. You fill your glass again before speaking, struggling to find the right words without upsetting your... benefactor.

“Well, Shouto... I don’t really know how to...” You trail off, hoping Shouto will say something, change the subject, say it’s alright and move on to something else.

But the man stays silent, eyes appraising you.

Taking a deep breath, and another gulp of sweetness, you try again.

“Sometimes the closeness... like, physical closeness? Makes me, well, uncomfortable.”

Hopefully, that would satisfy his curiosity for now. That wasn’t the only reason you’d been avoiding Shouto seeming distant, but you didn’t think sharing the others would result in anything good.

Said man accepted your response, dropping his eyes to his lap as he mulled it over. More wine was consumed, glass re-filled. You felt nervous.

“You’re saying that my touch isn’t something you’d prefer.”

Biting your lip, you soften at his confused expression, at the hint of sadness swimming behind his eyes. “Kind of. I don’t mind you Shouto, you’re really kind, and you’re good company, and a wonderful friend. I just don’t think the.... the intimacy is for me.”

Shouto raises his head, stares at you with those pretty eyes, lips parted as he comes to terms with your words. 

“It sounds like you don’t trust me. I would never hurt you, you know this.”

You scramble to assure him. “I do! I do trust you, and I know you wouldn’t.” (at least you hoped) “But I guess I just... Coming into this agreement I wasn’t ready for that type of... thing. I don’t know if I ever will be.”

The man rises, shakes his head as he steps closer to you. “Don’t worry, I remember our first conversation about that aspect. I see that for you, that type of relationship would only begin after you really cared for the other person, trusted and wanted to see them happy, am I correct?”

“Oh, Shouto-” You rush. “No, I care for you, and I trust you, and of course I want to see you happy. I think it’s just, y’know, my last relationship like that went really bad, and it sucked. I don’t want to go through that again.”

Shouto nods, understanding. “I see. You don’t have to worry about any of that with me then.”

A smile crosses your face, and you feel relived that he accepted your rejection with grace and understanding instead of violence or anger. “Thank you, it means a lot to me.”

The mood of the room shifted, from tense and uncomfortable, to easy and light, and you poured another glass of wine, laughing a little at how worried you were about the conversation with Shouto, only for it all to turn out fine.

“I’m going to go drink some of the liquor that’s kept in my room. I could mix a few drinks for you to try, you might like how sweet they are. I know hard alcohol isn’t quite your thing.”

You beam a smile, nodding your head eagerly. Before, you’d feel apprehensive about going into his room with him to drink alcohol. But with the conversation the two of you just had, you knew - things would be fine.

-----

The room was spinning and you felt giddy and light. You were definitely tipsy.

“You can lay down on my bed, you’re getting wobbly on your feet.” Shouto had offered, and you’d gladly accepted, flopping down onto his comfy bedspread with a laugh at how the motion made butterflies rise in your tummy.

Shouto leaned against his dresser, swirling whiskey in his glass as he watched you, a half-smile across his face. You smiled back, before closing your eyes, a little bit tired as you realized that you might be a bit more than just tipsy.

Shouto had mixed quite a few drinks for you, and you’d drank each one eagerly, impressed with how little alcohol you could taste in each one. You don’t remember how many you had, but it didn’t really matter.

The next thing you know, hands are on your waist, scooting you further up the bed so your legs no longer hang off the edge. Cracking open an eye, you’re met with the visage of red-and-white, eyes soft and warm as they regard you, Shouto’s face tinged a bit pink from the few drinks he had consumed. The man had never been too good at holding his alcohol.

When those hands started to slip beneath your shirt, you wiggled like a little worm, not really comprehending the situation. Maybe it was a dream.

Your shirt was discarded, then your pants. It felt much more comfortable now, and you mumbled a “thanks” to the man helping you settle for bed. He was so nice, Shouto took such good care of you. You still kind of couldn’t believe the turn your life had taken with him, the good luck pushed into your path.

Someone was kissing you.

With a grunt of surprise, you kissed them back, meeting their feverish pace and trying to keep up, soft lips puckering and pushing against your own with intent. Kissing felt good. You liked kissing.

Then a hand was cupping your face, stroking tenderly over your cheek before it began sliding down, down your neck, into the valley between your breasts, trailing over your bra. It felt funny.

Pushing back for air, you gasped when the hand on your chest started squeezing at you, eyes flying open with the startling, sudden sensation.

Shouto was hovering over you, lips puffy, panting as he stared at you with lusty eyes, an uncharacteristic look on his face. This... this wasn’t supposed to be like this. You knew. Hadn’t the two of you just talked about something... important? Was it important?

You didn’t feel panic until a hand cupped your sex, feeling your skin through your panties.

This wasn’t right.

Alarm bells were ringing, dull and far away, but you didn’t think that Shouto should be touching you in such a way. you should be going to bed.

“Mm, Sho, can you stop?” But your words felt funny on your tongue, and Shouto didn’t stop. Maybe he didn’t hear you.

His hair tickled your chin as the man bent to mouth at your tits, pulling the cups of your bra underneath them so he could feel your hot skin, let his saliva drag slick and wet against your chest. 

Your hands instinctively rooted themselves in his hair as you gasped again, not expecting such a move, tugging lightly at his head to pull him up. Shouto just groaned, teething gently at your breasts and not moving an inch. His hips were grinding against the bed though, as he stood between your spread legs.

Before you knew it, your panties were gone, bra clumsily unclasped and discarded, and you were completely bare. Shouto was undressing before you, struggling with the buttons on his shirt before giving up, easily ripping the fabric of his body with one tug, grumbling.

You didn’t feel so tipsy anymore.

“Shouto, what’re we doing? We shouldn’t be doing this, we need to stop-”

“Stay down.” Was his firm command, a hand splayed across your naked chest and pushing you back into the mattress as you tried to sit up. It made you breathless, the growl in his voice, the dominance emanating from the man. You stayed still.

“This’s gonna make us a stronger couple.” The man slurred, eyes dark and hands wandering, effortlessly keeping you pinned against the bed as he ground his hips forward against the edge. You were getting scared.

“Wait-”

You fell silent as one hand pushed down his pants, his underwear going with them, pink cock bobbing free. He was so pretty down there, and it made sense, all of him was pretty, but you suddenly realized the weight of the situation, what was happening.

“Shouto, no, oh my god. We gotta stop right now, we’re drunk, we’re-we’re-”

“Don’t care. Not gonna let you hide away from me this time.” Shouto shook his head, taking his cock in one hand and giving it a long, slow pump, flushed tip weeping precum and wetting his hand.

“No, no, this is wrong. I don’t want this, I could get pregnant!” You cried, beginning to panic for real, pushing against the one strong hand anchoring you to the bed.

Shouto just chuckled, letting go of his cock to crowd against you, getting up in your face to press a wet finger to your lips, the salty taste of his precum threatening to slip into your mouth unless you kept it shut. “Shhh, shh. If you stay nice and still, if you do what I say, I’ll use a condom.”

You couldn’t believe your ears.

“You’re gonna listen to me, you always do.” The man nodded to himself, once again dragging his cock against the bed between your legs, as if he couldn’t stop himself. “Or else I’ll fuck you raw.” The finger was pulled from your lips, only to be wagged teasingly in your face. 

You couldn’t believe how he was acting.

“Be nice.”

Shouto tapped your nose with a neatly manicured finger, before groaning as he heaved himself upright, red cock bobbing against his stomach, desperate for attention. The man gave you a look, as if to say “don’t move” before he took his hands off you, heading for his dresser.

Once you saw him pulling out a strip of condoms, you were on your feet, stumbling toward the door.

Although panic had sobered you somewhat, you were still struggling with the effects of the alcohol, so your reaction time was maddeningly slow. Slow enough that you weren’t able to truly fight against Shouto when he grabbed you from behind toned arms wrapping around your middle and heaving you into the air, only to throw you back on his bed.

You were almost sick on the bedspread, world spinning and stomach protesting, but you were able to calm yourself.

But then Shouto was on you, flipping you onto your back, a soft hand pressing against your throat threateningly. 

“You want to have a baby? Want me to cum in you so you’ll get all fat with kids? Hm?” He was so intense, almost choking you, straddling your waist and keeping you pinned. It was too much

You were able to manage a tearful, desperate “No!” despite the hand around your throat, and Shouto backed off, releasing the pressure to instead stroke his hand against the sides of your neck.

“Stop acting like this, it’s the next logical step for us. You said you cared for me, wanna make me happy. This’ll make me happy. I won’t be like the last guy.”

His cock was pressed against your stomach, and you could feel it twitching. Shouto clambered off of you, letting go of your neck so he could grab the condoms he’d tossed on the bed before snatching you up.

“Do what I say and I use these.” He waved them in your face before tearing one off, beginning to open it. 

You stayed still, gazing at him blearily, limbs feeling fuzzy, mind feeling the same.

The condom was rolled onto Shouto’s cock, the man spitting into his palm and giving the latex a few rubs to make it slick before reaching for you.

He dragged you to the edge of the bed - the perfect height for him to fuck you - and you didn’t fight, terrified of his threat. You couldn’t stand the thought of a baby.

(You didn’t know, but neither could he)

“Wanted to do this since I met you.” Shouto mumbled, pushing your panties to the side with a few fingers so he could guide his tip to your hole. “Want you so bad.”

You didn’t know what to think of this side of Shouto. This unreserved, uncareful, slurring mess of a man that loomed before you, gaze dark and wild, limbs everywhere as he groped and squeezed and appreciate the shape of your body.

But he must’ve gotten impatient, because then he was pushing inside.

It hurt, stinging pain rippling up your back and you keened, causing Shouto to pause. One of his hands darted down to wrap around your calf, hauling it up on the bed so he could lean forward and press it to you chest, sinking his cock a few inches deeper.

“You’re gonna take it.” He hissed before messily kissing you, pressed so close together that it was hard to breathe. “I’ll make it feel good after you do.”

[finelinevogue]

hi love, could you please do an instagram concept where h and y/n live in nyc? i love the idea of living in nyc and reading in your apartment by the widow with a view of the city!!

no bc are we the same person?? like this is dreams okay okay!!! hope you like this one ‘cause i loved doing it!!;

207,928 likes

yourinstagram girls night out in the city

81,038 comments

harryfan1 daaaamn y/n is hot hot hot

y/nfan1 i pray to you

harrystyles Babe you’re not actually in the city in this photo…

yourinstagram @/harrystyles i will choke you

mitchrowland @/yourinstagram Oh hell no….

harryfan2 nyc was pretty but i thought y/n was prettier

y/nbff damn bff is smokin🦋🦋🦋🦋

2,583,938 likes

harrystyles My Sunrise. My Sunset.

102,938 comments

harryfan1 im sensing new song vibes…

helene.photos Aahh this was a fun shoot💓🥰

annetwist Lovely photo!😍

harryfan2 the wine um yes pls

y/nfan1 the way y/n is staring at harry🥺🥺🥺

yourinstagram @/y/nfan1 he’s too pretty not to

harrystyles @/yourinstagram Feelings mutual.

502,938 likes

gemmastyles Caught up with Y/N in NYC today and I can’t say I was surprised when she pulled out Jenga from her bag in the middle of the restaurant🤣🤣

86,020 comments

annetwist Looks like fun😂😂

harryfan1 why is that such an y/n thing to do though?!?

harrystyles Just… Why?

yourinstagram @/harrystyles leave me alone :(

harrystyles @/yourinstagram No i’m sorry, come back :(

yourinstagram @/harrystyles i legit moved to the otherside of the couch…

harryfan2 gemma ur so pretty!!!

401,938 likes

yourinstagram this was a moment <333

93,938 comments

harryfan1 harry styles world domination

y/nfan1 @/harryfan1 mr worldwide 2.0

annetwist Proud momma❤️❤️

harrystyles @/annetwist ❤️

gemmastyles Love love looooove!!

sarahjones So coooool

mommaL/N Well done H!!!

harrystyles @/mommaL/N Come see us soon!!

173,938 likes

eNEWS Y/N L/N and Harry Styles caught sneaking a kiss before leaving their New York apartment to head to dinner. Read more here…

42,938 comments

harryfan1 leave them alone my god grrr

y/nfan1 i hate enews just leave them be

yourinstagram daaaamn my mans jawline though

harrystyles @/yourinstagram Daaaamn my girls jawline though

harryfan2 the way they hold each other when they kiss makes me feel extremely lonely

harryfan3 free y/n and harry from enews

307,937 likes

yourinstagram admiring the view

86,038 comments

harryfan1 YOU are the view

harrystyles @/harryfan1 Very much agreed.

y/nbff oh HELL yes

harrypriv102 Baby you look so fucking beautiful wow

gemmastyles Y/N daammn🔥🔥

y/nfan1 harry is so lucky woah

18,938 likes

y/nbff adventures with my favourite person <3

1,038 comments

harryfan1 is y/n under one of those sheets lol?!?

gemmastyles You two are absolutely crazy🤪

harrystyles Nearly got bloody run over for you two idiots….

yourinstagram @/harrystyles love youuuu💗

harrystyles @/yourinstagram Yeah right.. Seriously I could be a pancake right now…

harryfan2 this is the life i want smh

7,928 likes

harryfan1 met y/n today and she facetimed harry for us to say hi to him :(((

630 comments

harryfan2 god has his favourites wtaf

harryfan3 i’m moving up nyc right now wtf

y/nfan1 he’s kissing us 🥺🥺🥺

yourinstagram you were so lovely!! so nice meeting you <33

harryfan1 @/yourinstagram hi omg! thank you for everything y/n you’re so kind xox

y/nfan2 what were they both like??

harryfan1 @/y/nfan2 y/n was so kind and joked how we’d rather her be harry than her!! she then called harry and it was so cute, like harry was worried at first for her because he wasn’t expecting her to call ::(( they’re so soft together!

103,938 likes

mommaL/N Visited my lovely Y/N and her handsome Harry❤️

24,038 comments

harryfan1 we love mom L/N

y/nfan1 so ur telling me i could’ve met them today bc im in nyc too

harryfan2 @/y/nfan1 bestie nyc is quite big��

yourinstagram Love you mum! <333

harrystyles Love you both.

annetwist So cute 🥰💕

374,023 likes

yourinstagram we have sexy hands

25,968 comments

harrystyles Can’t disagree with you babe

mitchrowland You two are so annoying

y/nfan1 actual goals wtf

y/nbff im such a good photographer ur welcome

harryfan1 HANG THE FUCK ON IS THAT A WEDDINF RING ON HARRYS HAND???

yourinstagram @/harryfan1 um👀