#cracks up a little bit of ��she likes me more than you *sticks tongue out*”

[woso-dreamzzz]

New Girlfriend III

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle x Teen!Reader

Summary: You make a game

When Lucy cracks open your door, you're as you always are.

You're hunched over your computer, clicking around some game level aimlessly with your tongue sticking out in concentration.

Your mice, like they always are when you're in the room, are running riot in their pen.

Outside of their cage and on the floor, you've set up a little pen for them to roam around and play in.

Lara and Zelda are wrestling like always as Clementine tries to work through the enrichment puzzle full of food. Ezio is asleep, flopped over on your shoulder as you study whatever new game you've found.

"You ready for dinner?"

Now that it's gotten colder, you've managed to get even moodier than before and even more of a shut in.

"One sec," You say. You click around the game level a bit more before pulling up a separate tab to type a long string of something Lucy can't even hope to understand. "Alright, I'm done. What's up?"

Lucy rolls her eyes fondly. "Dinner. Now. Ona cooked."

You push your chair out from your desk and stretch, your back cracking from the long hours you've spent hunched over.

You put the mice back into the cage, each of them getting a quick snuggle and kiss before you bolt it shut.

"Is it good food?" You ask as you go down the stairs.

"It's better than your mum makes!" Ona calls out and you grin.

"Yeah, but anything's better than Mum's cooking!"

Lucy grumbles, shaking her head. "One nice meal is all I ask. One meal where I don't get horrifically bullied!"

"We don't bully you," You say," It's character building!"

You and Ona laugh and Lucy just rolls her eyes. Sometimes, you think she would prefer if it went back to what it was like when you were first adapting to Ona.

"Oh," She says," I sent you those audio files you wanted."

"Thanks."

Lucy frowns. "She's been making you do those too?"

"Yeah, it's for a school project, right?"

You nod. "Uh-huh. It's for programming."

"I know I shouldn't have let you sign up for that," She says," It's all you ever do. I think you're losing sleep over it."

"You'll like it," You declare," What I'm working on. I promise."

"I'm sure that I will but it doesn't mean I think you're sleeping well. Put it down for once, that's all I'm saying."

You roll your eyes.

Lucy's always like that about your programming. Sometimes she lays asleep at gone three in the morning and can still hear you typing away on your computer for hours on end.

You return to your room after dinner ends and briefly come out to show Ona what you're working on while also denying Lucy the same opportunity.

"You've love it," Ona assures her at training the next day.

"Love what?" Keira asks," Oh, y/n's game? Yeah, you'll love it, Luce."

"Am I the only one that hasn't seen it?!" She demands, glancing around the room at people who are trying to not make eye contact with her. "Seriously? Raise your hand if you've seen it?"

Slowly, everyone raises their hand.

"This is so unfair!"

When you first got given the project, Lucy had been the first person to be clued into your plans. You showed her all your design sketches and all your ideas as you jumped between them.

At one point, one of your bedroom walls had been covered in concept designs and you would stand in front of it and point out certain aspects you liked and things you didn't think were quite perfect yet.

Lucu had been integral to your thought process and then all of a sudden she was shut out. You'd ask her to record voice lines or demonstrate doing something but you'd never explain why or what it was for.

You all but unplugged your computer when she came in unexpectedly and tried to get a sneak peak.

"Alright," Lucy says when she gets home to see you and Ona giggling on the sofa together," I've had enough. Show me your project."

You sit upright immediately, eyes wide.

"No-"

"I'm not taking no for an answer. I've had enough of the secrets."

She's serious. You can tell by the clench in her jaw and the way her arms are crossed over her chest.

Lucy's stubborn but you inherited from her so you're stubborn too.

Your cross your arms in the same way as you stand. "No! It's not finished! You can see it when you're finished!"

"Hey," Ona intervenes before the argument can truly get heated. Her hand rests on your shoulder. "It's okay. Just show her."

"I can't! It's not ready!"

"Come on," Ona says," Show her."

You glance at your Mum, who is staring at you with that same stern look and crossed arms as the one that she came in with.

"Fine. Give me a sec."

Lucy sits on the sofa as Ona hooks up a laptop to the tv.

You come back in with a disc and nervously put it into the dvd slot.

Lucy doesn't know what to say when the opening credits appear.

'Lucy Bronze: The Game' with a little pixel version of her holding the Champion's League trophy up on her head.

"We were meant to make a game about a hero," You say," And you're my hero."

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Besotted 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, virginity loss, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: your new neighbour brings intrigue and a bit of danger.

Characters: ex-con!Bucky Barnes

Note: Saturday is fat tiddies day. I'm sorry.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

"Wow, uh, I'd say that's a lot but it's really not much," you snort at Angelique as she comes out of your bathroom in a tiny string bikini. The leopard print is loud on the tiny triangles barely concealing her tits and a few other parts. 

"Not all of us are nuns like you," she retorts and sticks out her tongue. 

"I'm not a nun," you roll your eyes. 

You're not exactly modest yourself. You like your booty shorts and your cropped tops. And when you're lazy enough, you can be caught walking around in your purple track pants that read sex bomb across the ass. Not exactly classy, but fun. 

"Right, right, sure," she scoffs. 

"That's a low blow," you hiss. 

"Well, it's the truth. What's that now? Twenty-two and you're as pure as the blessed Mother Mary." 

"You're a fucking bitch," you sneer. 

"I am," she grins and shakes her tits. "But the guys love it." 

"You are so dumb," you scowl. 

"Try a smile, babe, and maybe someone will want to get it in." 

"Wow, did you just come over here to be awful?" 

"No, I came over to have fun. Loosen up, have some vodka." She insists. 

"Oh, no, I get it, you came to drink my booze," you accuse. 

"Look, it's hot enough out that I don't need you breathing down my neck. You invited me over," she snips. 

"Regretfully," you tweak your brow. 

"Boo, get you're fucking swimsuit on. I'm dying." She crosses her arms and drags her feet across the floor. She grabs her drink; some strawberry kiwi juice and too much vodka. 

"Why don't you go start?" You ask. "Better than pouting over your drinking problem." 

"Cuntttttt," she growls the last consonant. "Oh, you are the worst." 

"Isn't that why you love me?" You blow her a kiss and skip into your bedroom. 

You better keep up with her so you can put up with her. Vodka and orange juice should do the trick. A little less sickly sweet. You pull out your bikini. The sides of the bottoms are silver hoops and there's another between the bra cups. It's not exactly a nun's habit, is it? Especially with your tits. 

As you come out, you tuck in your left boob, the bigger one. Angelique swirls around her glass before emptying it. It's barely noon. 

"You know, you'll probably be drunk before you even get a tan," you chirp. 

"Probably," she shrugs and spins. "Come on, I'm bored." 

You huff and stomp around her. You pour yourself some vodka then find the carton of orange juice in your fridge. Hm, only enough for one drink. Nice of her to bring mixer for both of you. You dump it in with the vodka and head for the door. 

You grab your sunglasses before you step out into the sunlight. It's blazing hot. You slurp back the orange juice laced with alcohol and look around. You don't have much but it's yours. Somewhat. The sunburnt grass and cracked walkway. That's really the dream home. 

You put down your drink on the folding table under the mailbox and grab the kiddy pool leaning against the siding. Angelique makes no effort to help. You don't expect her too.

You drag it over onto the lawn and go around to unwind the hose. You unwind it and haul it back with you, tugging out the kinks until it reaches the pool. You'd do this all in the backyard but there's too many ant hills. 

You hold the hose and spray it into the plastic pool. As you do, you notice the peculiar dark shape in the next lot; a motorcycle. There's boxes on the other side of the duplex porch. Huh, they must've found a new tenant. 

Angelique pops open a bottle of tanning lotion and generously applies it over her arms and chest. She's shining as she smears it over her sandy skin. You'll put on some actual SPF when you get a minute. 

You wiggle the hose as you grow bored of filling the pool. Your mind wanders. She always has to say something. Always has to embarrass you. Never lets you forget every time you struck out. Well, you're just a little awkward. Maybe you should stop giving a fuck. Like her. 

"Oh, summer feels so good," she struts over with her drink and steps into the pool.

She sits and shivers so her pert tits jiggle. A top like that would do nothing but go missing under your chest. As she reclines and basks in the sunlight, you sigh. 

"Gee, Ang, thanks for all your help." 

"No problem, girly." She smirks and bends her leg, swaying it as you notice the neighbours across the street gawking. The two pot-bellied men who meet up to gripe on their lawn chair. Ew. 

You drop the hose in and go back to the porch. You dip inside for your bottle of sunscreen and come back out. You work at rubbing it in. You'll wait a bit before you get in so it doesn't wash off. It's no Hawaiian coast but that small dented pool is your only relief from the summer heat. 

Angelique swishes her second drink in the glass. You don't think she'd help with your back. She's in her own little bubble. As usual. 

You hear the snap of the door behind the wooden crisscross that blocks the other half of the porch. You glance over at the shadow that passes by. The unit's been empty almost since you got there. No tenant stayed longer than a month. 

The man tramps down his stairs and to the motorcycle leaning on its kickstand. He digs around in the saddle bags then turns. As he does, you catch his eye and give a half-smile. You wave weakly as he keeps going. Oh. 

You blink and look at Angelique. She's completely unaware; of your new neighbour or her audience. Two teen boys pass by in a not so subtle detour from their side of the street. You grimace but they're not looking at you. 

You turn the bottle in your hands. That man. He's kinda handsome, if he is a bit older. His long hair is a mix of fading brown and grey. His beard is seasoned with silver and his blue eyes shine boldly. And his jawline. That's to die for.  

Why had you been so hung up on boys your own age? 

The thought make you cringe. Are you serious? Angelique is right. You're too desperate. 

“Anj,” you approach the pool. 

“If you’re not offering to refill my drink, I don’t want to hear it.” Her eyes are closed behind the dark lenses. 

“Why are we friends again?” You mutter. 

She just giggles and finishes her drink. Nope. If she wants more, she can get it. You spin away and catch sight of that man again. 

Your new neighbour grabs a box from the stack on the front porch. You step up to the property line and smile. He doesn’t notice you as he disappears inside. 

There’s not much. The boxes are dusty, marked with the logos of the local storage facility, and his motorcycle is the only other thing there. He must’ve had the stuff dropped off. 

He emerges again and you wave, “uh, excuse me? Hi. Neighbour?” 

He pauses and his shoulders tense. He faces you slowly. His left arm is covered in ink. The patterns are intricate. His other arm is marked with scars. 

You introduce yourself as you sidle up the property line. He stares. 

“It’s nice to meet you.” You say. He still doesn’t answer. “What’s your name?” 

He looks up then back at you. “Bucky,” he grits out. His voice is sexy. 

“Oh, Bucky? That’s cute,” you say. “Say, neighbour, can I ask a favour? I’ll bring you a casserole for your trouble.” 

He considers you, “don’t gotta do that.” He crosses his arms. His biceps bulge and so do your eyes. He is built. 

“Oh, but I wouldn’t mind, it’s just...” you peek over your shoulder at Angelique as she lazes in the water. The sun beats down on you hotly and sweat beads on your nape. You look at Bucky. “I can’t reach my back.” You show the bottle of sunscreen and smile sheepishly. “Could I get a hand?” 

He grumbles and tilts his head. He looks you up and down. 

“I really don’t wanna burn. It’s so hot out.” You plead. 

Reluctantly he unfolds his arms and comes down the porch steps. He approaches and his chest decompresses visibly as he exhales. He extends his palm to you. You press the bottle into it. 

“Thanks!” You let go and shimmy then turn your back to him. 

There’s a moment before the lid clicks. He still doesn’t speak. You hear the lotion squirt and brace yourself. He smears it, barely touching you. As the lotion only slides over your skin, he sighs. He shifts and rubs it in more firmly. You push back against his strength, arching your back just slightly. 

Your heart races. His hesitance is disappointing. You know you’re not ugly. The reasons you got for your many rejections were that you didn’t want a one-night stand or you insisted on protection. It’s not too much to ask for. You really don’t think it’s your looks. 

“All done,” he says. 

The lid snaps shut loudly. 

You face him, your bikini top stretching dangerous as your chest bounces. His eyes flick down briefly. You nearly laugh. It’s a nice reassurance. 

“Thanks, Bucky,” you smile. 

He grumbles again and hands you back the bottle. Your cheeks are on fire. He’s so hot. He’s got that definition that makes you all fuzzy. You bet he knows exactly what to do. 

“So if you need anything, I’m just next door,” you point to your side of the duplex. “Oh, and I don’t mind noise. At all.” 

He nods. You wring your hands around the bottle. 

“But you know, if you do, I can be quiet,” you say, realising the double meaning only as your words hang between you. 

His brows rise and he dips his chin again. He turns and stalks away. He’s busy. You’re bothering him. You’ll try again when he’s not unpacking. 

Your eyes linger on his bike. That might be good place to start. It’s all harmless. You’re being a good neighbour. 

You go to your own side of the porch and put the bottle on the top step. You go to the pool and poke Angelique with your toe. “Move over.” 

She snorts but gives you room. You get in, arms around the edge, feet up on the other. She giggles. 

“What?” 

“He’s a bit... ancient,” she flips her sunglasses up and gives you a pointed look. 

“Whatever,” you shrug. 

“Even so... he’s in good shape,” she sits up slight, flattening her hands against the bottom of the pool. “Hmmm... maybe you might have a chance with the old man.” 

“You’re such a bitch,” you growl. 

“No, really. Do you think you do?” She asks. 

You furrow your brow and search her face, “why?” 

“Oh, it could be fun. How about a bet?” 

“A bet?” 

“Sure, you know, we’re going down to the beach. Got that old house by the shore and there’s only so many spots. You could have one if you can reel him in. No virgins on vacation,” she taunts. 

“Fuck, I hate you,” you sneer. 

“You love me and I know for a fact, you don’t have a chance of seeing the beach if you don’t come so...” 

You take a breath and peer over as your neighbour swings the door open once more. He’s entirely undistracted as he lifts another box. Your stomach swims with nerves. You can flirt; it’s that next thing you never got the hang over. But so far, he’s not even flirting. 

“Guaranteed?” You arch a brow in her direction. 

“Promise. It’ll give you something to talk about.” She cranes to watch, “you better hope his dick still works.” 

[your-nanas-house]

Hi Nana! I would love to read about Cillian breeding his younger wife, and then absolutely worshipping her once she is carrying his baby<3

Hi! Thanks for the request, I'm sorry it took me so long. 💕

Can't get enough of you

◇ Pairing: Cillian Murphy x pregnant wife!Reader

◇ Warnings: smut, eating out, mention of sex, Y/n is pregnant, breeding kink, mostly fluff

◇ Summary: Cillian can't get enough of his pregnant wife.

◇ Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English. It's a drabble.

There he was, her husband... with his salt and pepper hair brushing against her skin, his soft lips moving on her swollen belly as he read a story to their son with his deep and bit ruff, from the previous activities, voice.

Since they found out about the pregnancy Cillian had been extra careful and loving, making love to her every day, taking care of her body and her needs while bonding with the little one as best he could.

"I swear if I could I would breed you over and over again" the crude words escaped his mouth which was still busy with the soft action of affection. The book was long forgotten, now closed on the edge of the bed as he slowly lowered his path, his big hands grabbing her thighs as his light piercing eyes met hers

"Please, just one more, love" the man begged, eager to tate his wife for the third time that evening. His tongue was already sticking out, joining in the open mouth kisses he was leaving on her warm skin

"Just one to help you sleep better" he added in a softer tone, reaching finally her bare cunt with his mouth. His lips wrapped around her swollen clit to start the sensual and intimate kiss.

With the pregnancy, she felt orgasms even harder than before. Even a small stimulation brought her tears and spasms of pleasure, so it took her husband little time to make Y/n reach her peak. His tongue still worked and lapped at her juice even after the intensity of her climax faded.

"Too much, Cilly" her voice cracked softly, her hands pulling at his hair to make the hungry man move away from her cunt. At least for that night.

"Sorry, darling. I just can't have enough of you... like this. With our baby growing in your belly" the actor cursed under his breath, massagging softly her thighs, deciding to get up and clean just after worshiping her body a little more with soft kisses and caress.

The light got turned off and Cillian voice broke the silence one more time

"Did I exaggerated?" He asked after they were both laying in the bed, cuddling into each others arms. He sounded weaker now, almost hesitant and she could exactly picture the soft frown on his face even though she couldn't see it in the dark.

"No, it was perfect. We continue tomorrow morning. I read somewhere that it is healthy when you are pregnant" Y/n reassured him, taking a more comfortable position before leaving a sweet kiss on his cheekbone followed by a whispered 'Love you'.

[oimitocat]

EXTENDED LOVE | HC

skz ot8 (seperately) x gn!reader

parent!reader + child (6 yo oc) + tender love + established relationship + fluff, fluff, fluff + extremely light angst + idol au!

a/n: amab reader. kids gender/name varies on the member, use your imagination if you want something different lol p.s - i don’t have baby fever, you do.

— BANG CHAN

getting close to your daughter was easy, she wouldn’t look away from him and he’d make cute faces at her

your fear was that she’d love him more than you

she grew to love being in his embrace, his hugs are the best

she’d fall asleep on him while he’s in his chair, cooking up some beats

you’d always watch as he gently does her hair, chan loves giving her pigtails

she’d write him songs and he’d make her sing them and make a song (he’s so sweet)

“chan, can we go get ice cream?” “absolutely.” he’d say. “you’re spoiling her,” you’d argue lightly.

on hot summer days you guys go for a swim at the pool, he teaches her how to swim

she’s his little champion, you two are always cheering her on when she’s doing something new!

she likes to talk a lot. and you fall in love with how attentive chan is, his smile on his face as she energetically yaps about

if she’s upset with how busy both of your schedules have been to hang out all three together, he reassures her with fun gifts and a treat. making sure he at least spends a meal time with you two.

she gets EXTREMELY jealous when you kiss chan, she’ll huff and pout, and then scream happily when you two attack her with tickles, hugs and kisses

loves it when chan sits her over his shoulders, you have thousands of pictures of him with her like that

— LEE MINHO

minho had no idea how to approach your daughter, matter of fact, he’d just stick to hand waves, small “hi angeli” ‘s and warm smiles

the moment your daughter finds out he cooks, she’s all over him

you’re also a relatively known producer, spending some late night at the studio, she’d beg minho to take you dinner

the three of you would eat in your studio and she’d tell you how she helps minho

she loves watching minho dance, always asking him to teach her

the second she knew how to do acrobatics dance, minho begged you to enlist her in classes

“clearly she got that from me,” he’d say proudly when you two would attend her shows

she’s in love with his cats, she’d beg you to buy them toys and snacks for them.

minho would fawn over her when he’d find her asleep with doongie on top of her

“why does it feel like she loves you more than me,” you’d huff. “because she does.” he’d stick his tongue out at you before allowing her to put makeup on him

if angeli injures herself he’d take care of her and calm her down

she enjoys cuddling up to minho and fall asleep on him

learned to talk back to you since he does that to you— “hey, don’t do that to your-“ “but you do it too! why can’t i?” and you’d watch them argue with a smile

family outings include going for an ice cream or a treat and walking through the pretty parks

she loves it when the two of you hold her hand on both sides and pull her up while walking

— SEO CHANGBIN

your child HATED changbin for the longest

he’d smile and greet him but he wasn’t taking anything from changbin

“allen be nice and say hi.” and allen would huff and look away.

then, one day you decided to pick up changbin after stray kids had a long day of dance practice. you were still relatively early hence you were allowed to watch for a bit

and allen found changbin super cool after that

he was super shy when talking to changbin but changbin always was patient and loving

changbin would crack up jokes and allen would laugh non stop

they’d have tickle fights.

if allen was sad for whatever motive, changbin always found a way to cheer him up

if you and changbin were in the studio for a really long time, he’s sleep on the couch and if you keep working more then changbin would cuddle up with allen and they’d be fast asleep waiting for you (you have a load of pictures of them like that)

allen loves arts and crafts, so he’d make changbin paper rings and paper hearts or origami cranes (changbin has them in his studio, chan and jisung deal with it)

sometimes if allen struggles with korean changbin would gently correct and teach

allen loves falling asleep in changbin’s arm he says changbin is like a big teddy bear

if you’re too busy from your schedules and changbin is decently free, then allen would stay over at changbin’s

changbin LOVES to spoil allen, with treats and toys

changbin gets extremely flustered when you kiss him in front of allen but allen also encourages you two to show affection

if allen notices that you are stressed, he’d tell changbin to help him surprise you with a gift

you love them so much

— HWANG HYUNJIN

so listen… hyunjin can’t do kids. he loves them- they just don’t love him back

yet, he tried hard for you, especially since alex was the light of your eyes.

both of them were super awkward but you helped them ease up, after all, the three of you had gone on a cafe date

alex always carries something with him and coincidentally he had a coloring book— you can imagine how it went from there

literally two artists that paint your days vividly

hyunjin finds himself buying coloring books or drawing something for alex to color- so cute!

one day you walk in on them doing face paint and you end up getting painted too

alex always praises hyunjin and talks good about him, you feel warm when that happens

the two of them are attached by the hips, you feel like a third wheel sometimes but in a non jealous way

MATCHING OUTFITS. the three of you are always matching outfits when going out

alex always gets upset when your schedules are packed, but hyunjin makes videocalls and sometimes alex falls asleep throughout them

hyunjin isn’t very affectionate but when it comes to your child he’s a natural

STOP. WHEN HE HAS LONG HAIR he lets alex put cute clips on him or tie it up

you cried when alex drew a family portrait and it was the three of you

alex is a really curious child, always running into danger so seeing hyunjin panic sometimes is funny

“don’t laugh! HE WAS CLIMBING THE FRIDGE!” “baby, you’re equally tall, you can easily get him down.” “i wanted cereal!”

you’re a dramatic trio

arts and crafts. hyunjin wears and keeps everything alex gifts him

— HAN JISUNG

oh boy… jisung was ANXIOUS

he always backed out but seeing you so exited to introduce your kid, he swallowed down his nerves and went forward with it

luck or not- you’re child is a chatterbox, but that didn’t happen until after your child processed jisung’s tension

jisung would nervously smile when making eye contact and to your mental peace, ally finally began conversation

“- says you make music, do you do -‘s music?” “uh- i- no-“ “so you don’t do music?” “no i do-“ “can i hear?” and jisung’s a fumbling mess while pulling out his phone

good to say that after that jisung eases up. ally is extremely extroverted around introverts without knowing, so when she leans into jisung it’s a bond from there

she loves playing with his rings and stealing them- at some point she replaces them with toy rings and jisung wears them proudly

she demands to have matching jewelry with jisung. earrings and bracelets, the three of you match

jisung rots in bed a lot, so the two of that do it together if she crashes over

skincare, skincare- she loves spa days so the members aren’t surprised when a picture of the three of you with face masks and a headband pops up in their gc

if she notices jisung is anxious or simply not mentally there, she goes quiet and stays by his side for emotional support

every time she wins something at school like a certification or a good grade she shows it off to jisung. you love seeing him smile and praise her

sometimes she falls asleep after asking jisung to sing for her— it’s adorable

— LEE FELIX

ack- you fell in love with him all over again after he easily chats up lilly.

“he’s pretty,” she says to his face and you laugh at how red felix goes

felix is SUPER caring, he’s always watching out for her, holding her hand when walking and talking to her attentively

the two of them LOVE games so you’d often find them playing cards or video games

they’re both competitive so if you play with them you’ll be getting yelled at

if felix does a certain style with his hair she wants it too (for example if he has braids she wants braids)

you often find them talking about the most randomest things and laughing

spa days happen here too, and the three of you watch movies a lot

if she has problems with homework he’ll do everything possible to help

tiktoks. they two of them always record videos and are updated with the trends, sometimes they drag you along to do them

fashion icons too.

she sometimes gives him ideas on his outfits and he immediately tells his stylist to make it happen somehow

they do little mukkbangs together, you love receiving videos of them doing things together

felix always gets her flowers and you adore seeing that

DO NOT KISS FELIX before her. she’s jealous. felix is hers now.

— KIM SEUNGMIN

seungmin is AWKWARD the first few weeks.

still, he makes a visible effort for you.

he naturally does some really random things or sounds and she ends up giggling. boom.

you probably should’ve expected that they’d roast you

and bully you

and gang up against you- “I GET IT!” you’d exasperate after their brutal comments over a tiny mistake. “do you?” seungmin grins. “yeah do you?” mina mimics.

not only does she not spare your pockets but seungmin doesn’t either. “seungminnie i want ice cream.” “let’s go get it.” “do we have money?” “yeah,” and he takes your wallet before you even know what’s happening.

movie dates! the three of you always go out to watch a movie. he spoils her with popcorn bucket.

seungmin doesn’t really do affection but mina loves hugs so she’s always hugging his arm if they’re laying down or holding his pinky while walking

she loves being in the studio when he’s recording, she enjoys his voice

they often do karaoke nights, where even some members take apart of. the best memories!

seungmin loves reading to her. she always comes with a book for bedtime stories and if he’s not with her then she demands you call him so he can read to her

the two of them are always in comfortable silence and it’s something you love to see— them getting along so well

they strive to annoy you sometimes though, literally coming to your studio to distract you

if you have a concert and he has the freedom to go to it, best believe he and minnie are at there and screaming/cheering

— YANG JEONGIN

oh he was ready

he had every scenario imaginable set. he greeted him and even brought a gift!

“- i like him,” jacob giggles as he hugs the stuffed dinasour

whatever obsession your kid is into, best believe jeongin shares that with him.

“you’ll spoil him,” you huff. “good. someone has to do it.” he’d argue.

yang jeongin is a menace and your kid has picked up on it now.

you cannot go a day without being bullied

it’s okay though, you know how to attack

also spa days!! jeongin has a thorough face routine and jacob was super shy to ask to join in, but you found your kid giggling while jeongin gentle washed his face

jeongin loves going out for peaceful walks, so the two of you would take jacob to the park and then go to a nice cafe or restaurant after

jacob loves being on jeongin, sitting in his lap while eating or sleeping on him while at home

the two of them just HAVE to try out new food items every time you go out, you have to suffer with the uncertainty of whether you’ll be forced to eat something delicious or nasty

selfies!! always taking cute family selfies

jeongin loves making sure jacob is happy and comfortable, almost always finding out fun activities to do

both of them get disgusted if you kiss jeongin… you never win

[andiberzatto]

SUMMARY: Lip starts to let himself be serious and domesticated with a girl.

she wakes up in the morning, the light shining on her face because Lip has a broken curtain rod.

She watches him sleep peacefully next to her. He's shirtless, the blankets pooled around his waist. His apartment is messy - clothes strewn about, empty beer bottles on the counter, a broken curtain rod letting the sun shine in unrestricted. He sleeps like a dead man, all spread out.

she gently sits up wincing at the sunlight.

He stirs, his arm instinctively reaching out to pull her back down. He mumbles something in his sleep, his hand settling on her hip possessively. "Baby... stay..." He buries his face in the pillow, still half asleep.

she stays seated in the bed “l'm here.” she mumbles.

He finally cracks an eye open, realizing she's awake. A lazy grin spreads across his face as he stretches, showing off his toned chest and abs. The blanket slips lower. "Morning." He reaches up, gently running his fingers through her messy hair. "You comfy?"

she nods “yeah... your curtain rod broke?” she says it like a statement more than a question. she hadn't really noticed these things before.

He winces a little at that, running a hand through his messy hair. "Yeah... been meaning to fix that shit." He props himself up on one elbow, studying her face. "Why, is the sun hurting your pretty eyes?"

“it's definitely a rude wake up” she laughs softly, looking at him taking in the way he looks first thing in the morning. she's never actually stayed the night before now. now that they are more serious.

He catches her checking him out and smirks, intentionally flexing his abs a bit more. He props himself up higher, the blankets falling dangerously low. "You know... you're the first girl I've ever let spend the night. You like what you see?" He winks playfully

she smiles “yeah baby.” the nickname rolls off her tongue

He smirks wider at the nickname, clearly pleased. Leaning in close, he murmurs,"Keep calling me baby like that and I might just keep you naked in this bed all fuckin' day." His hand sneaks under the covers to teasingly brush against her thigh.

she giggles softly “you're not much of a mornin person lip”

"Fuck no I ain't." He runs his fingers through his messy hair again, making it stick up even more. "Coffee or sex - take your pick on what makes me functional before ten AM." He leans in closer, nuzzling her neck. "Or both..."

she smiles “my slick on your chin wakes you up pretty good..”

He chuckles, his lips brushing against her skin as he speaks. "Yeah, that's a great way to wake me up. Slick on my chin, coffee in my hand... fuck, you're perfect." He presses a soft kiss to her neck. "Now, coffee or sex?"

“Taste me first then coffee?” She asks hopefully.

He grins mischievously at her request."Fuck yeah, baby. I can get behind that." He throws the covers off and moves down her body, settling between her legs. He looks up at her with a smirk.

her hand claims purchase in his curls like always. it's the only way he knows he's doing good

He winks at her before burying his face between her thighs, his hands gripping her legs possessively. He can feel her fingers carding through his curls, pulling gently to encourage him. He loves that she always touches his hair like that, it's become their little thing.

"Mmhmm.." He hums against her pussy, making her buck her hips. He spreads her thighs wider apart, feasting on her like it's his job. His favorite morning activity. He reaches down to palm his growing erection, he's hard again already. "Baby...You always taste so sweet in the mornings..." He nuzzles her thighs, inhaling her scent deeply. "Think we can do this every morning?" He looks up at her with messy curls and swollen lips, his chin glistening with her slick.

He gives her one last long, slow lick before kissing his way back up her body, leaving a trail of kisses along her stomach. "Best fuckin' wake-up call ever," he murmurs against her neck, catching her earlobe between his teeth. “Coffee time?”

she smiles “you lay in bed I'll start the coffee”

"Mmhmm." He watches her naked body walk around his apartment. He loves that she's comfortable being naked around him. He throws an arm behind his head, admiring the view. "You know you have a perfect ass, right?" He calls out, making her laugh.

she laughs softly as the coffee starts to brew “2 sugar splash of cream is how I take mine, you want any in yours?”

He shakes his head, a smirk playing on his lips. "Black coffee is fine for me." He chuckles, watching her move around his kitchen. It's surprisingly domestic, a naked woman making him coffee. He likes it too damn much. "Bring that shit over here, will ya?"

she giggles and walks to the bed with their mugs, handing him his black coffee before sipping her light colored sweeter coffee.

He takes a long sip of his coffee, Watching her over the rim of his mug.Setting it down, he leans back against the headboard, patting the space beside him. "Come here, you."

He grabs her mug, placing both on the nightstand before pulling her into his lap. He wraps his arms around her, holding her close. "Just wanna sit here with you for a bit, baby. No talking, no nothing.Just us, coffee, and the morning." He nuzzles his face into her hair, inhaling her scent. "You good with that?"

He holds her silently for a few minutes, just enjoying the closeness. His hand absently strokes her thigh, a comforting gesture rather than a sexual one. He glances at the clock and chuckles softly."Fuck... it's almost eleven."

“you got something you gotta do?” she asks softly.

"Nope." He tightens his arms around her waist. "Just thought it was late. Sundays are lazy days. No plans." He nuzzles her neck, then freezes suddenly, pulling back slightly to look at her face. "You busy today?" He asks carefully.

she nods “around late afternoon, is that okay?”

"Yeah, of course." He kisses her neck softly. "What'cha got goin' on? Girl shit?" He asks casually, knowing it's none of his business but curious. "Need help with anything?" His fingers trace patterns on her thigh absentmindedly.

"Like maybe..."

she smiles waiting for him to finish

“...like maybe I can pick you up and bring you back here afterwards?" He suggests, hoping she'll say yes. He doesn't like the idea of her leaving his side, even if it's just for a few hours. "Or I could just come with you, depending on what it is."

she nods “I gotta meet with some friends for a late brunch and then get nails done.” she's not much of a girlie girl so the nails part surprises him

He raises an eyebrow at the nails part, finding it oddly charming. "Nails, huh?"

He chuckles. "You're turnin' into a regular princess, ain't ya?" He teases, kissing her forehead. "I'll pick you up at, say, two?"

she smiles “it's that nail place off Olive. the Pink Polish. and for the record I'm only getting my toes done. so I'm not exactly becoming a princess. I'm just doin it to make my friends happy”

He nods, remembering the nail place.

"Got it, pink polish off Olive, toenails only." He grins sarcastically. "Just doing it for the friends, right? Not for your sexy boyfriend who appreciates pretty toes?" He squeezes her thigh playfully.

she scrunches her face “please tell me you don't have a foot fetish and you're joking”

He throws his head back laughing."Jesus, baby, your face.." He runs his fingers through his messy hair, still laughing. "No, absolutely no foot fetish. Just fuckin' with you." He kisses her nose.

she smiles “thank god you're joking. I gotta leave around 12:30. hope that's okay. I'll cuddle til I gotta go”

"12:30 it is." He pulls her closer, wrapping his arms around her. "Cuddles till then sound like a plan." He nuzzles her neck, breathing in her scent. "You gonna wear a dress or something girly for your princess friends?"

she laughs “mmm no. jeans and a shirt like a normal person”

He chuckles, nodding approvingly."Fuck yeah, that's my girl. Ain't about to prance around in a fucking sundress just to impress your little friends." He squeezes her thigh affectionately, "Jeans and a shirt it is. Come here."

He kisses her back deeply, his hand sliding up her back to tangle in her hair.He pulls her closer, parting her lips with his tongue. The kiss is slow, lazy, and full of unspoken feelings. When he pulls back, his forehead rests against hers. "Love you, princess,"

“oh please don't call me princess” she blurts, ruining the moment slightly.

He laughs softly, capturing her mouth again. He pulls back and grins mischievously. "What if I call you 'baby' instead?" He asks, knowing she likes that one. His fingers absently stroke her back. "Or 'love'? 'Sweetheart'?"

“anything but princess.” She replies.

He smirks, nodding. "Got it, baby girl. Good girl, angel, love, sweetheart. No fucking princess bullshit." He kisses her neck gently. "Now come lay with me, Gonna cuddle you till you gotta go."

she snuggles into him til she's gotta get up she just slides on her jeans and keeps his tshirt on “cool if I just wear your shirt?”

"Hell fucking yes." He watches her dress, admiring how his shirt hangs on her frame, exposing enough of her shoulders to make him want to kiss them. "Looks a fuck-ton better on you anyway." He stretches slightly as she moves around.

she smiles softly looking at him lazily stretched on his bed shirtless “pick me up around 2:30 at the nail place, you can take me back here.” she says softly, hoping he agrees.

"Deal." He throws an arm over his eyes, soaking in the sunlight filtering through the window. He'll set an alarm on his phone to remind himself to pick her up.

He likes how she looks in his shirt, like she belongs there.

she leans down and kisses the arm that covers his eyes “can I get a real kiss goodbye or are you gonna pout that I gotta leave?”

He smiles, lowering his arm to reveal his face. "I'll give you a real kiss, baby." He wraps his arms around her, pulling her down for a deep, slow kiss. When he pulls back, he brushes a strand of hair behind her ear. "Love you."

she smiles “love you too.” she walks to grab her bag and sling it over his shoulder “2:30. set a reminder” she calls out.

He sets the alarm on his phone. He watches her leave, already looking forward to picking her up later.

she has a good time at brunch with her friends and gets her pedicure and stands outside the nail place, waiting for Lip. it's 2:30 on the dot.

His truck pulls up outside the nail place precisely at 2:30. He can see her standing outside, wearing his shirt, and it makes him smile. He gets out, adjusting his belt and walking around the truck with swagger. "Baby," he calls out, opening the passenger door.

she smiles and walks towards the truck kissing him before getting in.

He returns the kiss briefly before she gets in, then rounds the truck to get in the driver's side. He starts the engine, putting on a casual playlist he knows she likes. "Comfortable?" He asks, glancing at her as he pulls out of the parking lot.

she nods, noticing the music choice but doesn't say anything. Lip has started to integrate her music in with his, she notice one day he made a playlist of songs they both like with a white heart as the playlist name. he's nonchalant even in the relationship about cutesty things and he will deny it and say it's just a playlist but she knows it's his way of showing that he cares.

As they drive, he reaches over and takes her hand, intertwining their fingers. It's a small gesture, but one that feels natural and comfortable. He brings their hands up to his mouth, pressing a kiss to her knuckles before resting their hands on his thigh.

she smiles “thank you for driving me back”

"No problem, baby. It's really not that far." He unconsciously squeezes her hand. He likes how easy this is, no pressure, no games. He can be himself. "You hungry?" He asks suddenly.

she nods “I could eat a snack at your place. we don't gotta grab food.”

"Cool." He drives with one hand, keeping hold of hers with the other. His mood is unusually mellow today - no cursing, no smartass remarks. "How was brunch and all that girly shit?"

she nods “same old. they asked about you. Kelly is getting married and wants to know if you and I are serious enough to give me a plus one or not… she asked if you'd wanna be invited to all the wedding bullshit. I told her l'd ask you.”

He chuckles, his grip on her hand tightening slightly. "Tell Kelly I'll go to the wedding, but I'm not doing no bachelor party bullshit." He pulls into the driveway of his house, putting the truck in park.

she nods “ I figured that much. her fiancé is a bit of a dumbass.”

He turns off the engine and looks at her, his expression softening. "Yeah, he is. But Kelly seems happy with him, so that's all that matters, right?" He opens his door, getting out to come around and open hers. "Come on, let's get inside.”

She nods and steps out and they continue to talk about Kelly and her friends “I mean are you sure you wanna go to the wedding bullshit? I mean you got work and stuff too. I can just say you're workin that day and go by myself”

He unlocks the front door, holding it open for her to enter first. As she walks by, he wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her back against his chest. "Nah, I wanna go with you, baby. I'll take this weekend off."

she nods “you know you don't have to go to show you're a good boyfriend”

He laughs softly, smacking her butt before letting her go. "I know that. Jesus. You're not putting pressure on me to go, are you?" He calls out as she heads towards the kitchen. He watches her ass move in his shirt, unconsciously licking his lips.

“Yeah, I'm giving you an out and you're not taking it.” she laughs.

He grabs a beer from the fridge, popping the cap off and leaning against the counter. "Maybe I actually wanna go. Ever think of that? Spend a day in a suit, watch you drink champagne, slow dance with the hottest chick in the room... which is…you."

she smiles softly, at how considerate he's being “really.. ?” She says softly

He tilts his beer back, taking a long swig before answering. "Yeah, really. Now come here and give me a kiss before I change my mind and lock you in the bedroom for the rest of the weekend." He smirks at her, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

she giggles “I had Kelly send you an invite so you'll get a copy of it.”

He nods, setting his beer down on the counter with a soft thud. "Cool. I'll actually show up to this one." He pushes off the counter, walking towards her with a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Now, about that kiss..."

He pulls her closer, wrapping his arms around her waist as he deepens the kiss, his hands roaming down to her backside possessively. He breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against hers."Mm, now I really don't wanna leave the house for the wedding."

“good thing the wedding shit isn't til this weekend.” She replies.

He nips at her bottom lip playfully "Fuck, don't remind me. I gotta wear a fuckin' suit..." His hands slide under her shirt, caressing the skin at the small of her back "But you know what? As long as I get to dance with you..."

she smiles “you get to see me in a dress. it'll be the highlight of your night”

His eyes darken slightly, his mind going straight to the gutter. "Shit yeah. What color's your dress?" He asks softly, unconsciously spreading his legs wider to accommodate her hips between them. His hands slide up her back slowly.

she kisses him more “it's like a sage green color. we can get you a tie that matches? you wanna be that couple? or get you a green shirt to match and you can say fuck a tie”

He runs his fingers through her hair, keeping their lips inches apart "Green shirt. Fuck ties." He presses another kiss to her lips "And you look fuckin' gorgeous in green. Especially when it makes your eyes look that shade." His hands start drifting lower on her back

she smiles “did i mention the dress is backless?”

His eyes widen slightly, his mind filled with images of her in the dress.

"Backless?" He swallows hard, his voice dropping lower. "Like, completely?" He pulls her closer, his hands splaying out on her lower back possessively.

“mhmm down to my lower back.” she grabs his hand and places it where the skirt of the dress would start, “that's how backless it’ll be.”

His breath catches in his throat as he feels where her bare skin meets fabric.

His fingers trace the line experimentally, his other hand sliding up to her neck

"Holy fuck..." He pulls her even closer, pressing against her "Baby, l'm gonna need a cold shower before this wedding..."

she smiles and kisses him “I picked you up a dress shirt in the green color. I just need to make sure it fits you. and will you do your curls. I like it when you actually care for em.”

His shoulders relax slightly, liking that she cares about his appearance. He smirks slightly "Yeah, I'll do the curl shit. You know i like when it's all messy but if you want I’ll put some effort in." He unbuttons his jeans softly "And the shirt will probably fit. You're good with sizes."

she nods and hands him the slacks to try on “these are a shorter inseam. you're like 5’7 right?”

He chuckles, taking the slacks from her. "Yeah, I'm a short guy. 5'7" He steps into the pants, pulling them up his legs. They fit perfectly, hugging his thighs and calves just right. "You got the measurements spot on, babe."

she nods and hands him the shirt “I opted for a medium. hope that's okay?”

He takes the shirt, unbuttoning his current one "Medium's perfect actually. Most stores think I wear small 'cause of my height, but no..." He pulls the new shirt on, sliding the sleeves up to show off his forearms "How does it look?"

she smiles “handsome baby. roll the sleeves don't slide em. keeps the dress shirt less wrinkly”

He shoots her that signature Lip smirk "Yes ma'am." He rolls the sleeves exactly as she instructed "Now come here and kiss your fuckin' handsome boyfriend." He tugs her closer by the hem of the oversized shirt she's wearing.

she kisses him.

He wraps his arms around her, holding her close as he deepens the kiss. When they break apart, he rests his forehead against hers, smiling softly "I'm really looking forward to this weekend. Just you and me, all dressed up, dancing... fuckin' romantic."

she smiles “thank you for being a good sport about everything. weddings aren't exactly everyone's vibe. and I know there's an open bar. but don't go crazy... you have people to meet for the first time and I don't want them to meet drunk lip before they meet sober lip”

He laughs softly, running his fingers through her hair "I promise I'll behave. I'll have a few drinks, mingle, meet your friends... But I draw the line at dancing with anyone but you."

She smiles taking a look at him all dressed up. “You look good baby, this is just the trial run to make sure everything fits before the day of. You can take it all off now.”

Lip takes off the dress shirt and slacks and pulls her onto the bed to cuddle and relax for the rest of the day.

[raayllum]

a/n: set after 6x06 and heavily references 6x03 bc they were blessings

Sometime after they stop kissing — alright, they don't really stop, but languid silences, soft giggling, and sweet nothings fill some of the space in between kisses as they curl up together on his bed in the Starscraper — Callum asks, "So, what were you crying about on the Ray of Illumination?"

The sun is rising above the sea of clouds outside their bedroom window, and for a moment he regrets bringing up anything potentially sad, both of them happier than they've been in years, honestly. They have everything they need for her parents, his connection to Aaravos has been severed, the light and truth of her love filling the cracks in his heart, instead, and finally, finally she knows that his heart has always belonged to her. That it always will.

But he's always been curious, and he's always wanted to sooth whatever's troubling her, fix whatever is breaking her heart, and she'd had a good deal to cry over just a couple weeks ago — maybe even something from the last two years apart — and... he wants to know. He wants to help.

And, slowly, he thinks she's getting to a place where she wants him to be able to, where she'll let him.

"Oh, um..." Rayla averts her eyes, fingers tangled with his, but her smile doesn't dim. She sticks her tongue in her cheek. "It's a bit silly, really."

"Still." He uses his free hand to brush his thumb over the curve of her cheek, the blue bend of her marking, where he knows the tears would've fallen.

"Just an old diary written by the captain. Esme something. Stella pushed it open." Rayla scoots a bit closer and Callum lets go of her hand to wrap his arm around her, more than happy to give into her desire to be held; he never feels more at peace than when he's holding her, now more than ever.

The bump of the tip of his nose against hers as a gentle prod. "And?"

Rayla turns her face down, his lips brushing her brow, but he can still tell she's worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. He wants to angle his face down and kiss that worry away, draw her lips to his, but refrains. They have plenty of time, after all. To kiss, and rest, and prepare for their journey. It's close to dawn now, and Callum knows they won't leave till the day after tomorrow at least — they need supplies for the journey to the Nexus, recover from their trials, and to say goodbye to their new friends here.

Finally, Rayla explains, "She was writing during the last days of her life, on that ship I guess. About a man she left behind. Her one true love, Conrad."

"Oh." Callum pulls her further into a hug on instinct, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"Just... resonated with me," she nearly sniffles, laughing weakly, but her smile is real and reaches her eyes when he glances down to check. "I'm sure you can imagine why."

"Lots of stuff about what she would've said if she saw him again?"

"Mmhm."

"Think I can relate to that too," he hums, giving her forehead another kiss. "I love you, Rayla," he repeats for what might be the millionth time that day, but he already knows he can never say it enough. He's always known that. "I'm so glad you came back."

She wraps her arms tighter around his torso, cuddling in closer, tension ebbing out of her and face half pressed to his scarf. "I'm so happy you're here, Callum," she sighs warmly.

"Always." He strokes her hair, wondering if she'll fall asleep like this—it always got her a little drowsy in the past—or if she'll let him weave her braid for her one of these days, musing, and then... "The Captain's name wasn't Esmerelda Skall, was it?"

Rayla lifts her head, brow furrowed adorably. "Er, yeah, it was. Why? How do you know that?"

"She was a famous explorer in the Human Kingdoms. Charted out a lot of our maps up north. My Dad—King Harrow—took me on a diplomatic mission once to Del Bar, where she's from, when I was eleven or twelve." There's a warm, content feeling blooming in his chest that he'll get to give her closure on this, too, somehow. "Conrad founded a town near the capitol and served as mayor. He named it after her. He loved her all his life—put a grave marker for her next to his when he died and everything."

Rayla's "Oh" comes out choked and small, but her smile is wide as she blinks back tears. "That's—that's beautiful. I guess he really—"

"—loved her?" Callum finishes, curling two fingers under her chin to lift her face for a moment. Then he brushes away the real tears trickling over, drawing her further into his snug embrace. Her breath is beautifully warm as it fans over his lips before he kisses her, soft and firm. "Yes. I really do."

[morelikeravenbore]

Can I Make It Any More Obvious? Part two.

He Was A Punk, She Did Ballet...

I do not know why I've included so many bloody Shakespearean references into this crackfic about a sk8er boi wizard, but since I'm writing this by the seat of my pants with absolutely no plan or outline, I'ma let my subconscious cook. Also, I'm hesitant to call this a "crack fic” any more. Let's call it tender crack. A crack fic with feelings.

Content: MEET CUTE MODERN AU. 🛹 Mentions of “magical drug use” (the recreational smoking of mallowsweet*), mentions of alcoholism, swearing.

*not my original idea. I've read this idea in a few fics before and think it's genius so credit to whoever wrote it before me!

Word count: 3.2k~

👉 PART ONE HERE.

[read on wattpad]

Madame Puddifoot's Tea Shop, previously known as Steeply & Sons, was a garish, pastel-pink nightmare that took prominence in the village square like an overdone sponge cake at a corporate buffet.

The preferred meeting place for first dates, romantic rendezvous and anyone looking to indulge in tiny, outrageously overpriced cakes, Sebastian had been inside only once in his life and didn't wish to repeat the ordeal again: lace doilies, frosted cupcakes and sickeningly sweet tea was not his idea of a good time.

‘In a village brimming with interesting places,’ he grumbled, keeping in step with the little redhead beside him, ‘he invites you to Puddifoot's?’

Having naturally charmed Mr Brown into giving her a special discount on every book in the shop ("...a munificent diminution for the fair danseuse!”), a request to return any time day or night (“Antemeridiem, noonstead, or crepusculum!”), and an invitation to join the village book club (“...whereupon we postulate and divagate into scintillating literary excursuses!”), they'd left Tomes and Scrolls only after Sebastian, growing irritated by not having her full attention, had ushered her out the door and into the bustling street beyond.

Was he jealous of his middle-aged, married landlord simply for speaking to her?

… Yes.

‘What's wrong with Puddifoot's?’ she asked, sparing him no glance as she weaved through the main street.

Across the village square, the tea shop's frosted icing-sugar windows winked merrily at them under the midday sun.

Sebastian pulled a face.

‘Their cakes are small!’

‘Their cakes are small?’

‘Offensively so! And as far as first dates go, it's the most predictable, uninspired place he could have chosen! Puddifoot's, really?’ he scoffed. ‘Ominis might as well have admitted he hated you and been done with it.’

She stifled a laugh behind her hand. ‘Those are some wild aspersions,’ she said delicately. ‘Where do you prefer to take your dates in Hogsmeade, then, if you're such an expert?’

He bit his tongue before he could blurt out the words ‘Shrieking Shack’ — not that he ever took dates there; mostly he went there to smoke mallowsweet by himself and wallow in self-pity. Even so, it'd still be a better choice than squeezing into a lumpy, overstuffed loveseat while fairies dumped confetti over his head and people he wished never to see snogging snogged with unbridled relish and vigour.

‘I would take you somewhere fun,’ he scowled. ‘Like —’

‘Like a wedding altar?’

Sebastian flushed. ‘No —!’

‘Oh, oh! L'hôpital?’ She turned to him with a surprisingly impish grin for someone so renownedly elegant.

Something funny wiggled in Sebastian's chest.

‘Trust me, you don't want to date Ominis — he's a pompous rich boy with a stick up his arse!’

‘I thought he was your best friend?’

‘He is! That's how I know he's a pompous rich boy with a stick up his arse! Look —’

Running a hand through his tangled hair, he pulled her aside to a shady spot beneath an old, gnarled oak and tried not to loom over her: at almost twenty-one years old, Sebastian had started growing early in life and hadn't yet stopped.

Fuck, why was he so bloody gigantic.

‘You won't like him,’ he said, hunching awkwardly. ‘He won't make you laugh, or take you anywhere fun, or —’

‘Propose marriage while bleeding from the head?’

A nearby merchant — a humpbacked witch with one eye and somehow too many teeth — let out an amused cackle, but Sebastian was too distracted by the strange little wiggle in his chest to tell her to sod the fuck off.

Brilliant. As if a head wound wasn't bad enough, now he was having heart palpitations as well? Had he overdone it with the Shakespearean theatrics and inadvertently brought upon his own tragic, untimely death? Was he to die at her feet as Romeo for Juliet — only via self-inflicted concussion over a quick-acting poison?

Fuck it — if today was the day that he died, he'd at least try for a first (or last?) date. As a wise man once sang: Do you like my stupid hair? Would you guess that I didn't know what to wear?

‘Don't go on a date with Ominis,’ he said, swooping his stupid hair out of his face. ‘Go on a date with me.'

She blinked at him. ‘What, now?’

Let's go, don't wait, this night's almost over.

‘Why not?’

‘Mmm… Because I already have a date?’ She shrugged past him, but he only lumbered after her like the big, brainless troll he was.

‘Wait —!’ He held up his palms. ‘Look, I know you get some blood-soaked guy coming up to you on the street, you don't know me — but I know me, and I promise I'm —’

‘A dirty, rotten, sneaky little rat!’

Sebastian whipped around.

‘Ominis!’ he squeaked.

In all his years of dragging his best friend into detentions, secret underground lairs, and Muggle mosh pits against his will, the sight of Ominis’ sightless eyes boring into his with all the fury of his Slytherin lineage never failed to strike fear into Sebastian's heart.

It also, simultaneously, never failed to amuse him.

He didn't hesitate. With an absurdly high-pitched giggle and not a single logical thought in his addled brain, he grabbed Aurélie by the hand and took off running.

Board in one hand, girl in the other, he pelted through the village, twisting and turning through back alleys and narrow openings, scaring children and the elderly alike as he barrelled past them, cackling hysterically.

Suddenly, he was fifteen again, facing off with Peeves after being caught on another midnight jaunt through the Restricted Section; challenging an unsuspecting victim to an unsanctioned duel simply because he was bored; running from the prefects when he was inevitably caught nosegrinding down the Grand Staircase at two in the morning.

He hadn't felt this alive in years!

Beside him, the ballerina kept pace easily, pivoting round corners and leaping over obstacles with all the grace and finesse befitting her profession. As they dashed across someone's backyard, whipping through rows of freshly hung laundry, Sebastian caught the edge of a smile on her face before a pair of granny knickers slapped him across the cheek.

The wiggly thing in his chest giggled and kicked its feet aaaaall the way to the outskirts of the village, where a low stone wall at the end of an alleyway ended their daring escape. Beyond it, rugged and heather-brushed, lay freedom.

He looked at her.

She looked at him.

‘Over?’ he suggested with a hopeful waggle of his brows.

‘Well, I can hardly go back now,’ she returned with a wry shrug.

Grinning, Sebastian piffed his board over the wall and then turned to offer his little companion a helping hand. But to his surprise, she was already up, balancing atop the precariously narrow wall in a position he vaguely recognised as something ballet-shaped.

He gawked for a moment, unashamedly admiring the entire length of her legs, from ankles to knees, from knees to thighs, from thighs to butt.

‘Careful,’ he warned, scrambling up after her. A steep decline on the other side of the wall made him nervous. His hands hovered close, ready to catch her should she lose her balance, but she only peeked at him sideways with a smug expression, footsure and composed.

Cute.

‘This is the fifth position,’ she explained, framing her arms above her head. ‘It is the pinnacle of ballet's basic stances.’

‘The fifth position, huh?’ he said with a suggestive eyebrow wiggle. ‘Skipping ahead a few bases, I see.’

She ignored him.

‘It may look simple,’ she sniffed, turning her face to the sun, ‘but it takes years of training to reach complete security.’

‘Okay, show off,’ he snorted, climbing gracelessly down the other side of the wall. ‘Nothing about twisting your feet backwards like that looks simple to me.’

Safe now from the wrath of angry best friends and verbose shopkeepers, they picked their way carefully down to the banks of a shallow stream. A copse of willows drew them into a clearing, a dappled green reprieve from the midday sun. Sebastian couldn't remember ever coming across a spot as beautiful as this — but perhaps the company made it so.

In the middle of the clearing, she turned and caught him gawking.

‘Come here,’ she said. ‘I want to take a look at your head.’

Sebastian gulped. ‘My — my head?’

She rolled her eyes. ‘Oh la la, the bump on your forehead!’

‘Oh.’ He'd almost forgotten. ‘My head’s fine,’ he lied, but she looked at him so sternly that he shut up and bent his stupid head for her inspection.

Please don't look at me with those eyes, please don't hint that you're capable of lies.

Gently, she pressed her fingers to the bump above his eyebrow.

‘Does this hurt?’

‘No,’ he winced, his voice rough. And then, ‘...Maybe a bit.’

‘Thought so.’

Her fingers left his face but returned a moment later holding a little jar of funny-smelling ointment.

Sebastian held still.

‘Hold still,’ she said.

Sebastian held more still.

With a touch that gave him full-body tingles, she pushed his hair back and dabbed a little ointment over the cut.

‘That stinks…’ was the best thing he could think to say.

‘It's Essence of Dittany,’ she explained. ‘I use it on my feet after a long day of dancing.’

He pulled a face. ‘You're putting foot cream on my face?’

‘It's Essence of Dittany!’

‘Yeah, for your feet!’

‘Oh, mon dieu.' She rolled her eyes. 'How old are you?’

Sebastian cracked a grin. ‘I'm surprised I didn't tell you that already.’

‘If you did,’ she began, tucking the jar back into her pocket, ‘I wouldn't forget it the way someone forgot my name two times. — Now…’ Without warning, she reached up and cupped his face between her soft little hands.

Sebastian's knees almost gave out.

‘Look at me,’ she said, and he looked, and looked, and looked, and thought he might not look away ever again.

‘Are you dizzy?’ she enquired, her face so close he could feel her breath.

Yes.

‘No.’

‘Dazed?’

Very.

‘No.’

‘Faint?’

Only when you touch me.

‘I'm fine,’ he murmured, but the tremor in his voice said otherwise, and his racing heart racing said otherwise, and the way his gaze kept dropping to her lips definitely definitely said otherwise.

I dread the thought of our very first kiss, a target that I'm probably gonna miss.

‘Okay,’ she said after a good long frown at his face. ‘But if you feel like you're going to fall…’

Sebastian almost told her he already had.

Thankfully, a sudden rustling in the greenery diverted him from embarrassing himself further, and from out of the treeline came another unexpected redhead (this one considerably less pleasing to look at than the one whose hands had just been on his face.)

‘Weasley?’

Garreth Weasley gave a start. ‘Sallow? What are you doing here?’

A fellow Hogwarts graduate and self-proclaimed “potion prodigy”, Garreth supplemented his apprenticeship wages at Pippin's Potions by selling his own “special blend” of mallowsweet on the side (unbeknownst to Pippin, of course, who, like most of the older generation of Hogsmeadians, vehemently decried the “grave misuse” of an otherwise unremarkable magical herb.)

Sebastian suppressed a groan: his mallowsweet dealer was the last person he wanted to see right now — especially when said dealer had an annoying habit of trying to steal his girlfriends.

Unsurprisingly, Garreth's eyes lit up at the sight of the pretty girl before him.

‘Hey, Aurélie!' said he. 'Nice to see you again.’

‘Again?’ Sebastian's mouth fell open. ‘You know Garreth bloody Weasely as well?’

‘Oui. We met just yesterday at your potion shop… Uhh, Peepins?’

‘Pippin's,’ Garreth corrected, his expression so jovial that Sebastian wanted to punch it right off his stupid freckled face. ‘I helped her pick out the best Valerian sprigs for her —’

‘— For my fudge!’ she cut in. ‘Oui, fudge. I'm making some. Fudge, that is. For — erm... Eating… Because it's, um… Nice? I think.’

Sebastian eyed her suspiciously. Why was she so nervous about fudge?

‘Right,’ he said, turning back to Garreth. ‘Anyway, did you want something, Weasley? Because we're in the middle of a date right now, if you can't tell.’

‘A date?’ spluttered the girl he most definitely was not on a date with.

‘A date?’ echoed Garreth, who looked slightly put out by the news. ‘Why aren't you at Puddifoot's, then?’

‘Oh, for fucks—’ Sebastian threw his hands up in exasperation. ‘There are other places besides Puddifoot's to go on dates, you know!’ he exclaimed. ‘All that mallowsweet's annihilated your imagination!’

Garreth's expression brightened. ‘Oh, speaking of —’ he said, procuring a small brown package from his pocket. ‘Got a new strain I'm looking to test out. Figured you'd be the perfect candidate.’

He tossed the package at Sebastian's chest: all three of them watched as it bounced off and hit the ground. Nobody moved to pick it up.

‘I don't know what you're on about,’ Sebastian lied, his eyes flicking nervously over the literal ballerina next to him; the epitome of elegance and refinement, he was certain she'd never smoked a bloody ham let alone indulged in the questionable (mis)use of mallowsweet.

Utterly fucking clueless, Garreth scooped up the package and held it out to him. ‘To be honest, I swore never to sell to you again after last time.’

‘Last —?’

‘Remember? You called me a “soulless fire crotch” and accused me of ripping you off —’

‘I never —!’

‘— but Leander reckons he's “giving it up” again, so now you're the only buyer I've got left who'll test out the experimental stuff.’

Unable to avoid it any longer, Sebastian snatched the package out of Garreth's hands and did his best to look thoroughly mystified. ‘Mallowsweet, you say? For potions, right?’

He sounded ridiculous even to himself.

‘Potions?’ Garreth looked puzzled. ‘No, you're supposed to smo—’

‘Smoulder it over a low flame before brewing, yep, I know, got it! Well, thanks Garreth, always a pleasure seeing you!’

‘But — you —’

‘Goodbye Garreth!’ He gave him a rough shove in the direction from whence he came.

‘Alright, alright, I'm going! Bloody hell. You fall off your wheel board or something?’

‘Skateboard,’ Sebastian said through his teeth. ‘It's a skateboard, Garreth. I know it's got wheels and it's very confusing for you, but —’

‘Oh!’ At this, Garreth turned. ‘Your uncle's up at the village, by the way.’

Brilliant. Uncle Solomon had a way of showing up drunk whenever things were going well for Sebastian; if he was at The Hog's Head already, he was probably halfway drunk by now. By nightfall, he'd be banging on Sebastian's door demanding to know where Anne was.

Sebastian didn't bloody know where his sister was. Nobody did.

‘How long's he been there?’

Garreth shrugged. ‘Not sure, but he was still upright last I saw…’

It was times like these that Sebastian was glad his twin sister had disappeared. Years of trying to hold together a splintered family had taken its toll on her; after all, looking after a drunken uncle and a brother obsessed with the Dark Arts wasn't exactly conducive to healing.

The hastily scribbled note she'd left had read: I can't die in Feldcroft. Please look after our uncle.

By the time Sebastian had found it, she was long gone.

He hadn't heard from her since.

No sooner had Garreth's flaming red hair disappeared into the brush than the baggie of experimental mallowsweet was yoinked unceremoniously out of Sebastian's hands.

‘Oi!’

‘Ooooh, you have a mallowsweet dealer?’ Aurélie danced out of his reach, giggling. ‘Can I try some?’

‘Wh — no, he's not a dealer!’ he spluttered, tailing her across the clearing. ‘And no, you can not “try some”!’

‘Why not?’

‘Because it’s for potion-making!’

Grinning mischievously, she took a little whiff of the package then pulled a face and immediately thrust it back at him.

‘Eurgh, what are you brewing? Dungbombs?’

‘No — Wiggenwald.’

‘You're a terrible liar.’

‘Actually,’ he said, tucking the bundle into his hoodie pocket, ‘I'm a Slytherin. And if you must know, mallowsweet helps me sleep.’

‘So you do smoke it!’

‘Yes, mother, I smoke it.'

She narrowed her eyes. ‘Can't you just use potions for that?’

‘Oh, you mean like a Sleeping Draught?’ He quirked a brow. ‘Or is it the Draught of Peace you’re brewing up with your precious “Garreth Weasley approved” Valerian roots?’

‘I told you, it's for fudge!’ she snapped.

‘You're a terrible liar,’ he smirked. ‘You don’t use the sprigs of the Valerian plant in fudge unless you intend to knock yourself unconscious for several days. — Or are you hoping to use it on someone else?’ he added, thinking of Ominis.

‘Oh, and you're an expert on fudge now, are you?’

‘I passed N.E.W.T level potions,’ he said smugly. ‘So unless you’re brewing a Fire-Breathing Potion — which, as an aside, I don’t think you need — then you're lying about the fudge.’

‘I don't see why it's any of your business!’ With a dramatic huff, she stomped across the clearing and threw herself a fallen log by the creek's edge.

‘It's not,’ he chuckled, sitting beside her. ‘It's just not very fair for you to accuse me of lying when you're telling little fibs of your own, is it?’

Secretly amused, Sebastian waited out the stubborn silence that followed and tried to act like he wasn't acutely aware of her arm pressing against his. There was a strange sense of familiarity about her presence, as if in some other lifetime they'd sat together just like this, side by side beneath the trees.

Eventually, she spoke again.

'If you must know,’ she began, her voice tight, ‘I've been under some... stress lately. And now I can't sleep without, well…'

'Without knocking yourself out with a Sleeping Draught?' he offered helpfully. ‘I know what that's like.’

'Strictly speaking, I'm not allowed to use “substances". Not that my Muggle instructors would ever recognise the effects of a Sleeping Draught, but still…' She heaved a heavy sigh. 'It's just… I've been dancing almost my entire life. My goals, my plans, my future — everything about me revolves around ballet.’

‘And now?’ he prompted.

‘Something happened…’ she said slowly. ‘Something that made me realise that I don't know who I am outside of the thing I've been trained for my whole life. — That's why I'm here, actually.’

He nodded understandingly. ‘To find yourself?’

‘Oh — no, because I accidentally blew up the dance studio with my magic.’

Sebastian choked.

'I'm the only ballerina with magic, you see,’ she explained, patting him gingerly on the back. ‘The Ministry had to obliterate everyone who witnessed my, erm… mishap, and I was ordered to take the summer off for "stress relief" lest I violate the Statute of Secrecy by exploding on stage or something. So…’ She waved her hand flippantly. ‘Here I am.'

Sebastian began to laugh.

‘You blew up your dance studio?’

‘I didn't mean to!’ she wailed. ‘It was awful! I broke all the mirrors! — It's not funnyyy, stop laughing!’

But he couldn't. Too far gone for composure, he hid his face in his hands and laughed til his cheeks hurt.

‘You know…’ he said, nudging her with his elbow. ‘I could teach you a far more effective way of relieving stress.’

Her scandalised look almost set him off laughing again.

‘I'm talking about skateboarding,’ he snickered. ‘Why? What were you thinking of?’

[magicxc]

Safe Word

Pairings: Survey Corps x Reader - how they react to the safe word being called

Word Count: 2967

Warnings: cuteness overload

A/N: This is how I think our bois would react to the safe word being used. Everyone is respectful and fluffy in this so enjoy and tell me what ya think!!

If you’re up to it, check out my headcannon with aot x safeword ignored. Its as it sounds - a darker version of this, so do proceed with caution.

Headcannons Masterlist

Safe word - sparrow

Eren  - Maybe it was the emotional toll of the day or the sensitivity right before the start of your period, but you just couldn’t keep up. Normally when Eren got a little rough with you it was an enjoyable experience but today just seemed rather, off. Legs curled around his waist as he steadily drove into you left you with nowhere to go; taking everything he was giving your body. And suddenly it became too much to handle, the pressure of it yielding more discomfort than pleasure. You tried to hold on, for him, but the tears that pricked at your eyes had Eren slowing down before your words did.

“Sp- sparrow,” you heaved, the waterworks now in full effect. Halting completely Eren pulled out of you, thumbs wiping away at your cheeks as he bombarded you with questions. 

Apologising for something he didn’t yet understand, he engulfed you in a bear hug until you were ready to express yourself; slowly rocking you both back and forth as he kissed along your temple. After explaining to him how you felt overwhelmed with everything, he’d made you promise to always tell him when you weren't feeling like yourself, especially if it was at the expense of his pleasure. Nodding in agreement, you’d watch as he left to get you a bottle of ice cold water; cuddling you to a peaceful sleep once you’d both settled down.

Levi - being humanity’s strongest soldier meant that Levi had to be extra careful when it came to everyday people. Certain things like a friendly game of arm wrestling or even cracking eggs for breakfast had to be approached cautiously. And while you did allow him to let loose in the bedroom, even that he conducted to a certain extent; always holding your safety in high regard. However, his idea of taking it easy and your idea of taking it easy were vastly different and while you two were still trying to gauge his strength in the early stages of your relationship, there was a safe word put in place.

“Sparrow,” you’d weakly cried out, eyelids heavy and limbs flaccid from the sixth round you and Levi had found yourselves in. While the sex was great and the orgasms mind numbing, six rounds on your poor body was beginning to take its toll. You’d felt weak and the heated feeling building in your belly to signal yet another explosive finish was borderline sweltering. No longer did those black dots that danced around your vision feel fun and soon the empty contents of your stomach threatened to rise. It was like a HIIT workout for a beginner but without the prep. 

Sweat prickled at your forehead and body moist enough to stick to the sheets you were all too eager to tap out, revealing to Levi just how wrecked you were beginning to feel.

After hearing the safe word he stopped immediately, eyes bulging out of his sockets at the idea that he’d hurt you beyond repair. He tended to be a bit drastic in thought when it came to you, but that didn't stop the apologies that tumbled from his lips. Levi would go on to make you a cup of green tea to calm down your symptoms and would keep you up in conversation until the sun rose; much like a mother making her child sing in the bathtub to ensure their safety while she left the room for a towel. How your quiet boyfriend managed to talk you into the wee hours of the morning surely surprised you, but you’d gladly indulge at the efforts he’d go through to make sure that you were okay.

Erwin - Erwin was a generous lover, sometimes too generous as his tongue worked wonders on your clit. Tongue flat against the nub, he’d let enough drool gather at the tip to rub around the bud as effortlessly as possible. Coupled with the two finger combo he’d drive into your pussy had you seeing literal stars. Erwin had come to learn that not only did this garner powerful orgasms for you, but it also garnered quick ones. It was something about his skilled body that would have you unraveling in three minutes flat. And much like the Commander of the Scouts appreciated when his planning yielded successful results on the field, so did the Commander in the bedroom appreciate when his woman yielded successful results from his ministrations; so much so that he’d barely hear the word leave your mouth.

Stopping, he’d uttered “what?”

“I said sparrow,” you panted.

“Baby, I- I’m so sorry,” he apologised.

Thankful for the break, all you could manage was to catch your breath before Erwin began interrogating you with questions of how you felt, where’d it hurt, when did it become too much, what do you need, why didn’t you stop him sooner, etc.

You literally had to shut him up with a finger to his lips, clarifying to Erwin that while it was more pressure than pain, you were fine now. Did it stop him from hurling ten more questions your way? No! And while you were initially annoyed, you were appreciative that he’d cared so much that he was willing to nail down the exact line of no return so he’d know never to cross it again. 

Connie - “thwack” was the loud echo of your skin crackling against Connie’s palm. Bent over his knee, he found himself ‘punishing’ you for whatever roleplay you guys were currently in the middle of. Eight spanks in and the fiery ache to your ass cheek had you quickly forgetting exactly what scenario you two were acting out. All you could think of was how soon you wanted it to end. 

Apparently you’d stop counting which meant that Connie had to start from the top and maybe it was the soreness of your ass, but his hits seemed to rain down even harder on your puffy skin - no doubt leaving behind a handprint. And by the third count you were effectively tapping out, croaking out your safe word before his hand could connect again.

“Sparrow, sparrow, sparrow.”

Hand halted high in the air, Connie quickly turned you over and wrapped you in his arms, begging for your forgiveness. The pleading never ceased and when you were finally able to gather your thoughts, all you wanted was to call it a night.

You’d forgiven him rather quickly especially considering you both were trying something new. But after he’d rub your skin down in aloe vera gel, you two discussed the idea of a middle word, much the same as a yellow traffic light signals that a car should slow down, this middle word would signal that whatever act is being done should continue with caution.

Plopping down next to you, Connie had showered you with kisses, apologies, and now snacks; even managing to slide in a joke or two. While this was an uncomfortable experience for you both, his love language was definitely laughter, trying his best to keep the atmosphere light but also working towards making sure that something like this never happens again.

Jean - While you and Jean tried to keep sex relatively fresh, nothing could ever really beat the classics - good ole fashion head. It was fun and oftentimes turned you on just as much. Face lodged between his thighs, the floor beneath you was a slobbering combination of your spit and Jean’s fluids. 

His hand guided you on the exact pace he wanted you to go, muttering out instructions of how you should please him in the process. The better it felt, the more aggressive he tended to get, hands cradled around your neck as he bobbed you along his shaft.The words you attempted to say came out mumbled and instead sent vibrations to all the right places; and what he thought was you amplifying the experience only made him thrust his hips toward your face more forcefully. Spit bubbling out the corners of your mouth and tears streaming down your face, Jean couldn’t have felt more turned at the sight, his brows crinkling to confusion once your fists began to beat against his thighs.

Halting his movements, he helps you up to which you breathlessly utter your safe word - “sparrow.”

Jean’s face instantly fell and regret filled him to the brim at the idea that he’d been so caught up in his own pleasure that he didn’t realise just how uncomfortable things were getting for you. 

Of course you knew Jean would never hurt you on purpose but you couldn’t help but feel a little frustrated with him. Opting to talk about it some more in the morning when you’d be more emotionally settled, you watched as Jean ran a bath for you; delicately washing the stress from your body and carefully preparing you both for bed. In between it all, he’d profusely apologised, promising to be more attentive the next time you found yourselves sexually active.

By the end of the night, you were pretty much over the incident and insisted on being the big spoon to Jean to allow him a bit of vulnerability in a moment that no doubt left him feeling distraught. 

Onyankopon - It was safe to say that Ony was above average. While sex with him was definitely mind blowing, it had its moments of discomfort and today seemed to be one of them. Fresh from date night, you guys burst through the front door, lips glued to the other as fingertips slid along heated skin. Clothes were stripped and scattered throughout the room, with your foot slamming the door close behind you. 

Soon enough, you’d both ended up on the couch with you atop Ony, riding him into oblivion. And boy was he excited to help you, thick hands tightly secured around your waist as he grinded you into his hips; a nice rhythm that was slowly picking up in pace. His deep thrusts only added to the sensation, dick at the tip of your cervix, as you tried to ride yourself into creating more moisture for the friction.

You were eager to have sex with Ony and you still wanted to, but sometimes it took a little more work to get you as ready as he was. Even though you were turned on, your body needed more time to catch up with your mind. And try as you might, you had to call it quits for now.

“Ohhh my gosh, Ony!! Sparrow, please sparrow,” you’d chanted.

Carefully dislodging himself from you, Ony carefully sat you on the chair, tucking loose strands of hair behind your ear before landing a soothing kiss to your forehead. 

“I’m so sorry pretty,” he lamented.

He’d thank you for speaking up and went on to inspect your body for any bruising. This wasn’t the first time you and Ony had gotten caught up in the moment and it surely wasn’t the first time your body was slower to catch up to his; but it would be the first time you’d felt all too tender to proceed.

You were still ready to go, but you definitely needed a little more prep and after confirming that you were okay to continue, Ony insisted on adding to the moisture with his rigid tongue - ensuring that you’d come at least twice before entering you again. He’d even let you ride him, after much convincing, and was hell bent on taking things slow tonight and for the next several days to come.

Reiner - Maybe his boss had pissed him off. Or maybe there was a discrepancy with one of his coworkers. Hell, maybe he’d woken up on the wrong side of the bed, but for whatever the reason Reiner was not giving you any moment's reprieve. If the head board that viciously slammed against the wall wasn’t indication enough, your sore pussy surely was. 

Not that it happened often, but you didn't mind when Reiner lost himself inside you. In fact, you’d insisted on it; insisted that he mold your body to his will all in the name of relieving his frustrations. But today felt different, felt unfamiliar. You watched as his lips came together to let out grunt after grunt - looking on as his eyes stared straight through you, dark and obscure. You’d even noticed the way he handled your body so carelessly, tossing you around as if you were a rag doll. 

And you’d begun to feel exploited. Like a stranger using your body to get himself off and the lump that bloomed in your throat had made the safe word almost impossible to say; but somehow you’d managed, and thankfully he’d heard. 

“SPARROW,” you’d yelped.

Reiner’s thrusting had slowed to a complete stop, confusion etched into his every feature; and finally you’d begun to see cracks of your boyfriend, almost as if his spell of anger was lifted.

He’d been mortified when you explained to him how you felt, dropping to his knees as he clung onto your torso in a fit of apologies. He stayed like that for a few minutes and when you both came to, you assured him that you’d be fine and encouraged him instead to talk to you before he decided to use your body as a sole source of relief. 

Reiner agreed, but things between you sort of fizzled out over the weeks to come. It felt like he was walking on eggshells when it came to you in conversation and physical touch alike; gently kissing you or even hugging you, almost like he was afraid that you’d break at the slightest pressure. No matter your efforts to assure Reiner that you were fine, you decided to let it run its course.

And over time, he’d learn to do a lot of self work and reflection in terms of getting to the root of his problems all the while being more open in discussing his true feelings and thoughts with you. You were overjoyed that he was finally taking the necessary steps toward improving his mental health. And when he finally felt comfortable enough to effectively communicate with you, to have sex with you, and to even get rough with you, well, it was divine.

Armin - Nipple play was Armins latest obsession. He’d gotten into it after a sexy session between you two and what started out as initial embarrassment turned into full fledged enjoyment. So much so that he’d encourage you to get in on the action as well. 

Although nipples were an erogenous zone for everyone, you couldn’t help but feel that yours were a little more delicate; or at the very least Armin had a higher tolerance for pain. Clamps latched onto each nipple, Armins hand was firmly wrapped around your throat as he drove into you again and again. There would be the occasional tugging of the clamps and what started out as hypersensitivity very quickly turned painful.

You’d tried to utter the safe word, but with Armin’s hand around your neck, the best you could do was mouth it and fortunately for you he was an attentive enough lover to catch it. Unwrapping his hand, you murmured the word once more for good measure.

“Sparrow.”

Still inside of you, he’d come to a standstill, peering beneath wet eyelashes in what you could only describe as panic. Fat teardrops hit your cheeks from above as he works to unlatch the clamps and pulls out of you entirely; the apologies never ceasing.

Seeing Armin so riled up had gotten you equally as emotional and before you knew it tears were sliding down your cheeks as well, arms flying around his neck as you held him close. The night grows quiet save for your hearts that beat against the others chest and when enough time passes by, you both decide to get some sleep, still wrapped tightly in each other's arms, choosing to discuss it in the morning.

Floch - Floch had turned you all the way out. You’d become perfect in every way for him and that included sexual. Ass hiked into the air, you bounced into the mattress each time he drove into you. And it’d felt great, it always did. But somehow you just couldn’t get into the groove of things this go round. To put it simply, you weren’t in the mood and it wasn’t until he was balls deep did you realise. Were you turned on? Yes. Was your body responsive to his? Absolutely. But your mind wasn’t in it and you’d wanted this session to end just as quickly as it started. No matter how far along you and Floch got into sex, let alone penetrative sex it was always crystal clear between you two that consent could be revoked at any time; and you decided to do just that.

“Sparrow,” was the safe word you so tiredly whispered.

Immediately Floch stopped thrusting, removing himself from you as he kissed up to your spine until he’d reached your neck, sorry on the tip of his tongue in between each peck. He’d carefully flipped you over and proceeded to shower your face in butterfly kisses, apologies continuing to spill from his mouth until you were able to speak. 

Worn out, you’d go on to tell him how you felt and he’d mildly chastised you for even letting it get this far. After all, he is a grown man and would never put his pleasure before your well being. Softly smiling, you thanked him and leaned in for an open mouth kiss.

To seal the deal, Floch went on to massage your entire body down with your favorite oils until your light snores lured him into his own slumber; eager to get a full night's rest so he could treat you to your favorite breakfast in the morning.

[kingstrawberry]

tsuki’s glasses getting irreparably cracked in the middle of 2nd year so he’s wearing his old contacts (from middle school) for a few days til he has the time to go get new ones

and kags having a gay crisis every day cuz he’s suddenly realizing how pretty tsuki’s eyes are

tsuki completely clueless cuz kags is suddenly avoiding him and can’t stand to look at him so he thinks he pissed kags off somehow (he always does but this must be more than usual) so he’s asking yachi and hinata abt it

hinata and yachi looking at eo like ‘kags must’ve realized his feelings’ but neither of them are gonna tell tsuki that, so yachi says he has trouble with change so when tsuki gets new glasses it’ll be fine

well the next week tsuki comes back with new glasses that are basically exactly the same as his old ones (the frames are slightly thinner and more square but it’s such a minor difference you’d have to be staring at him to tell) and kags is not fine

now that kags has seen pretty tsuki he can’t unsee it , he’s still avoiding tsuki and hinata and yachi can’t explain it and tsuki’s losing his mind a little bit

even when tsuki tries to annoy kags and get a rise out of him, as soon as kags looks at tsuki he turns away like the sight of tsuki is burning his eyes

tsuki is all grumpy and confused until he’s studying in the classroom with yachi during lunch and she expresses similar confusion abt yamaguchi

tsuki thinks ‘well yea he likes you so ofc he’s all awkward abt it’ but he can’t say that to yachi, he knows yamaguchi has to

yachi kind of :/ and she asks how she’s supposed to go over plays with the team if yamaguchi can’t stand her

and tsuki says smth similar abt not being able to practice blocks against hinata cuz they don’t have anyone to set for them

there’s silence between the two of them for abt ten seconds before it clicks

yachi’s eyes r wide as saucers and tsuki’s head is reeling

she whispers “he doesn’t, he would’ve said” and tsuki responds with a flat “he does and he’s chicken”

yachi is facedown on tsuki’s desk, he’s too distracted by his own problems to complain abt her crumpling his science notes

“but the king would’ve said something, he’s too blunt not to”

yachi gets up from tsuki’s notes w/ a quiet huff “i don’t think he realizes his feelings”

“so i’m just sposed to let him avoid me til he figures it out? we’ll all die of old age”

yachi snorts. “that’s mean.”

“he’s stupid.”

“but you like him too.”

“wha-? i do not!”

“tsukki your ears have been bright red since u figured it out.”

tsuki covers his ears with his headphones. “as if u don’t like yamaguchi.”

yachi sticks her tongue out at him. “at least id admit it!” she covers her face with her hands. “but i can’t even tell him. he runs away from me all the time!”

tsuki shrugs. “i can tell him for you.”

“what? you-? huh?”

tsuki shrugs again. “you figured it out yourself so i may as well help.”

yachi thinks for a sec. “…and i could help you with kageyama.”

tsuki looks offended. “i don’t need help i don’t like him!”

yachis unimpressed. “what abt practice?”

tsuki crosses his arms and pouts, slumping down in his chair, but he doesn’t say anything.

yachi grins and extends a hand out to him. “do we have a deal?”

tsuki closes his eyes and takes a breath between his teeth like he’s in pain. he takes her hand. “deal.”

[grapejuicestyless]

What A Waste

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Summery: You and Harry swore that you would one day marry each other if you were to grow up and not already have a lover. Yet, when the time comes and the two of you are wed, Harry cannot let himself enjoy it.

ANGST

I’m standing at the alter, hands clasped together and eyes looking towards the door at the end of the aisle. Yet my hands do not shake, and my cheeks dk not ache with the pain only a genuine smile can cause. My heart does not pound out of my chest because I am not in love. The girl coming down the aisle is nothing more but a pawn in the grand scheme of things.

Maybe once, I would’ve held those feelings towards her, but our blood has since ran cold. Any fond memories tainted by our final goodbye.

She wasn’t very interesting to look at. Maybe, at least if my heart couldn’t love her, I could have something nice to look at. Something delicate, pretty. But her lips were pouty and her eyes held clouds over them. There was nothing attractive about the solemn face that hid her beauty.

When her hands hold mine, and her face is just inches from my own, I find it within myself to recite the vows I’d written for her. Carefully constructed to sound like a true loving husband, but with no true emotion that not even she, in her most oblivious state would ever have accounted for.

When she read hers, I saw her hands shaking. Her lip trembling and the furrow in her brow as she stumbled on her words. How embarrassing, how nervous she was. Acting like it was all real. Finding a way to make theater into reality.

How softly, she told me she would. Love me forever, take care of me and support me from the sidelines. Even softer, she mumbled about how even when she was riddled with arthritis, sick and tired, she would still twirl my hair the way I lived when we were children. When I kissed her, I felt nothing. When I pulled away, her smile could have fooled me. How genuinely happy she looked. But I remember the way she left me, and I remember how it could never truly be real. And I remember why I hate her, how I could never love her. Not even a little bit, not even at all.

…………………………………………………………………………………

“H?” She calls me by the nickname she gave to me when we were younger. I don’t realize that even now, twenty years later her mind had still clung to it as if it would be any importance to her anymore.

“Don’t call me that.” I’m bitter, I hate the way it sounds so sweet on her tongue. I hate the way her smile falls when I reprimand her, and most of all I hate the way I’m forever bound to her. With all the money in the world, nothing could separate us, no matter how hard I tried.

She rubs her arms, wearing her fluffy pink pajama pants and a shirt thats reads, “We think Harry had the X-Factor” so cracked, it almost doesn’t even read correctly anymore. The words die on her tongue, look at what I found? I see her enthusiasm melt away. When her eyes drift to the unmade bed and her feet start to move, I speak again.

“No.” Her confused face infuriates me. How could she not understand the justification of my cruelty.

“Your room is down the hall.” The one with the squeaky mattress and dusty floorboards. The one with photos of my old house, with the old garden and the old cats. It’s empty and the heat doesn’t work very well. But the cold from her heart wouldn’t mind it, truly.

I hate how her hair lingers on every surface. I hate how her perfume wafts into the bathroom while I shower. And now, more than all, I hate how she looks at me with rounded eyes glossed over almost too innocently.

But she is not an idiot. We both know it. Silence speaks volumes, I know she pieces together the puzzle as she walks away. The shirt hanging loosely off of her shoulder and her face hidden from my view. She never looks back. She doesn’t say goodnight.

…………………………………………………………………………………

“Do you think we’d be soulmates in another universe?” I ask, tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth. The fresh England summer air hot and humid. I say it with dirt on my skin, grass stuck to my knees. I pull at the ribbons in her hair and watch how she smiles. We were only children then. Fourteen and convinced we were all grown up.

“Why not in this one?” She asked honestly, looking at me with so much truth in her eyes, I believed her. And the way her hand fit into mine, I could feel my heart pounding. And I knew then, she was the one for me. The way my body reacted, how quickly my heart pounded so violently, I thought it might burst from my chest. Too young to be kissing and too old to not think about it, we stare at each other in the wet grass in the backyard and wait for the final sunset to disappear into the horizon, my eyes looking into hers and her hand in my hair.

For a long while, I believed what she did. We were soulmates, we were bound together. Always by my side, always encouraging me. She makes shirts for my family while I start my career. She helps me rehearse my songs and her voice makes me believe that it should be her on stage, not me.

When the band is formed, and One Directions fate is sealed into greatness, I spend the last summer of normalcy singing in the fields and holding her hand like real good friends would. Her hand in my hair again, twirling it between her finger and her thumb. I want to kiss her, but the smile on her face makes me too nervous to. I think she has the most beautiful eyes I’d ever seen. I think she is the prettiest girl I’ll ever see.

“When we are twenty eight and not married yet, will you marry me?” She asks me in the last week of that August. It confuses me, it’s such a random age. It’s so young. But the idea of getting to be with her forever makes my cheeks flush.

“Why twenty eight? Why not forty?” She laughs, says something on how I’ll find it silly. For a girl with as much potential as her to wish for something so silly.

“I want to have a warm house with a soft bed. A dog and two cats and children. I want two boys and a girl. I want a white fence to keep them in from the street and little family trips where we can all laugh and be happy. And with all of that, I hope I am a writer still. I hope I have critically acclaimed novels and a Nobel Peace Prize.” And I don’t think her dreams are stupid. And even though her dreams are so hard to make real, the way she dreams about it out loud makes me believe it will happen to her.

When we leave the grassy field that night, I have no idea it will be the last I’ll see of her for a while. All I know is in the morning my mother has a solemn look on her face and a letter in her hand. When she sits me down to read it, all I hear beyond the violent ringing is my mother telling me she is gone. She left, only leaving behind her empty promises and a tainted memory of what I once believed to be something so pure and precious.

I don’t see the letter. Maybe if I had, I would have known it was in her father’s handwriting. And my dear Y/n hadn’t left me because the beating of her heart lost its rhythm in me, but because she was forced away into a house that would never be her home.

…………………………………………………………………………………

“God, you are a self-righteous prick.” She huffs, quickly untying the apron from her waist, letting the blue and yellow fabric fold over her hips and be discarded on the shiny tile floors. Not yet scuffed from the lack of dancing. Never truly loved. But I wouldn’t know what the difference was. I stopped learning how to love when love walked out on me.

“And you must be a victim!” She sticks out her tongue and groans, rolling her eyes and walking down the hall. The lights are dim, candles burning. It’s her own touch. She claimed she hated the big lights. The smaller ones made it much more homely. I didn’t care enough to fight her then, but as I stumble around I wish I had.

“I gave you everything! I gave you a roof to live under. All the money on the goddamn earth and all the glory! And yet you are ungrateful!” I spit at her with venom I don’t even know I possess.

“Oh my god, you don’t even know me!” She turns, and her eyes are crazy, hair wild. “My own husband doesn’t even know me!” She says it like it hurts her.

“Don’t call me that.” I tell her firmly. I try not to look at the rock on her finger, how it taunts me.

“What does it embarrass you? I hope it does. I hope all of your friends tease and taunt you for marrying the girl you never wanted, but had to have!” She laughs then, stepping closer to me, her finger in my chest.

“I will not let a loveless marriage strip me of my heart and my soul. You can hate me, but you should know better than to think you would have any power to strip me of my humanity.” She said it with such power, her voice shook with the same fierceness she felt in her bones. And yet, her anger didn’t lead me astray. For the first time in our loveless marriage, I felt a twinge of guilt for the innocent girl who I let bleed so gruesomely on the floor of our own home.

“Believe it or not, I am not the cruel witch you make me out to be. I am a woman, the same woman who loved you all those years ago. I still dream of having children and cats and a dog. A damn white picket fence! But, what a waste! Our agreement! If it could have at least given me that, or god forbid it had brought us together! I am still the same woman who loved you, and it is clear to me you are not the same man. You are bitter and I pity you because you must be so unhappy to feel the need to be that way.”

“And what else? Do you still dream of a medal in your honor for your writing? Or has that woman finally grown up to smell the roses and see that the world isn’t always built just for her.” I should’ve backed down, the moment she showed vulnerability, but for some reason I could not shut my mouth. I needed the last word.

“I outgrew those dreams the second I married you.” If my heart wasn’t shattered completely then, it had been now. And why? Over some words a girl I claimed to hate had to share?

“What a shame too. A book full of stories of us destined to the fire on our wedding night. And even if I were to write again, who would read about how you broke my heart? And how I continue to let you stomp it out until there is nothing but the dust that remains.” When she leaves, her dress sways behind her. She’s wearing my sweatshirt and she has the same white ribbons in her hair she had all those years ago. She never really did lie to me, did she.

She was only a girl. Ribbons tied into her hair and a white dress with lace so frilly, it resembled her wedding dress. A dress I never appreciated. I wondered if I looked into the old box of photos of the day we were destined for failure, if I would find any photos of her in all her innocence. Or, if that same smile she greeted me with before she knew me would be tainted with the same hate I bred inside of her through my own negligence.

I regret every feeling I’d ever felt towards her. How I called her plain, uninteresting, unlikable. The realization of this guilt hits so hard, it is undeniable. I feel this way because I have succeeded. I have crushed the heart of a girl who continued to love me through my greed. And I know I have succeeded through the look in her eyes and the frown lines by her lips. The lines that once represented deep smiles gone in an instant.

She only solidifies what I know when I see her suitcase by the door. Practically empty, nothing in this house is truly hers. She has gone from one loveless house to another, not yet finding her home. Not yet living her dream.

“You don’t need to divorce me, but I can’t stay. Not now. Not when I still love you. I can’t come back until every piece of you is gone. Maybe then, your insults won’t hurt so much, and we could get along.” She smiles softly, but it’s so fake it hurts my heart.

I don’t stop her, but I wish I had. This house isn’t a home without her. If I could change it, I would. I still loved her, and thats what makes it all sting so much more. The tormenting, the pain and the tears. All a result of two soulmates bound to be together, yet one of them refused to let it happen.

I hope she’ll come back soon. Sooner than last time. And I hope her heart still yearns for me. I’ll propose to her for real this time, not just under circumstance. And when she walks down the aisle, I’ll shake just as badly as she did the first time. And we can laugh about our experience in our first try at rekindling our flame, and we can finally have a house with a fence and two boys and a girl, a dog and two cats. And she can write about how wonderful her life is and win every award there is to win. And I will stand beside her like a good husband because I love her.

I will spend each hour she is gone wishing for her to come back. For the ache to ease itself. And what a waste. If only I could write a good song about it without ranting and going off into small tangents. If only I could’ve done it right. If only it could have brought us together.

[swarvey]

paper rings | harvey x f!reader

summary -> Harvey gets drunk with the boys; you have a realization. warnings -> none! wc -> 3818

a/n: calm before the storm <3

ch. 6 | ch. 7 | ch. 8

paper rings masterlist

chapter seven: i think he knows -> "it's like i'm seventeen, nobody understands."

“Done!” 

Triumphantly placing the last piece of the bundle in the box, you watched happily as a blue Junimo picked it up and took it away. As you continuously brought goods to the Community Center in hopes of restoring it — per Mayor Lewis’s request — you noticed this particular Junimo seemed to have taking a liking to you, as it kept following you to random places. Not only was it mainly the one who would take your completed bundles, but once in a while, it would show up at the farm or in the mines, usually looking at you with curious eyes before disappearing. You weren’t complaining, of course. It was harmlessly adorable, and after seeing it a couple of times, you fittingly named it Blueberry. It seemed as determined to bring the building back to its prime as you were.

You could hardly believe anyone in town would shop at the Joja Mart over Pierre’s. Sure, the guy could be a bit stuck-up, but at least his goods weren’t processed to hell like Joja’s. You shivered at the thought of working for the cursed company again, not comprehending how Sam and Shane could tolerate being in that place regularly. 

Well, Sam less so, as he always seemed to figure out how to entertain himself. It seemed like Shane just liked being in a place where no one would bother him, which made you all the more confused as to why he hung around Harvey and, of all people, Elliott, who seemed to be his polar opposite. 

You sighed contently as Blueberry wound around your feet once before walking away with the bundle, proudly looking at the two rooms you had completed so far. Although the effort was taking you a bit longer than you liked, seeing the rooms steadily come together was enough for you. You chose not to question how the Community Center was repairing itself, or where the Junimos came from — you’d learned long ago that many things in the Valley were unexplainable, and you were okay with that. 

You smiled as you waved goodbye to your little blue friend, swearing you saw it wave back.

I wonder what Harvey would think of this little guy.

-

“What in the everloving fuck am I looking at right now.”

For once, Harvey completely agreed with Shane’s words. Maybe it was the alcohol coursing through his bloodstream, but whatever Elliott was holding up on his phone screen was not making an ounce of sense to him.

“It’s a visualization of my novel!” the writer exclaimed, his usually precise tone slurred due to the three empty glasses in front of him. “I decided to expand my creative mind and turn to another output. This will allow me to make full use of my thought process.”

Shane snorted, grabbing the phone out of his hands and squinting at the poorly drawn stick figures. “Dude, I don’t know how to break it to you,” he started, laughter already bubbling in his voice, “but this looks like shit .”

Harvey shook his head and smiled as Shane cackled. Elliott snatched his phone back in retaliation, visibly offended. “It’s a rough draft, it’s not meant to look polished! You agree, don’t you, my good doctor?”

“. . . It kind of looks like shit,” he admitted, his rare use of profanity slipping off his tongue easily. Harvey took a long swig of his drink, avoiding Elliott’s utterly betrayed gaze.

Meanwhile, Shane continued to crack up, holding his stomach as he doubled over. “If this is the rough draft, the real thing might just pass off as a kindergartener’s drawing. Hey, why don’t I ask Jas to give you some tips? She’s not half bad, that kid.”

“I absolutely will not — actually,” Elliott paused, cutting off his own sentence, “that may not be a terrible idea. Then, I could obtain a glimpse of how she views my work, and incorporate it into the final product!”

As Shane groaned, tuning out the rest of the other man’s rambling, Harvey felt his phone buzz, looking down to see a text from you lighting up his screen.

Y/N : hey, you at the saloon?

In the midst of his drunken haze, he allowed a lovestruck smile to stretch his lips. He didn��t even notice Shane and Elliott momentarily pausing their bickering to glance at him, both of them raising their brows. 

Harvey : Am I that predictable?

Y/N : like clockwork. drunk off your ass yet?

Harvey : I never get drunk off my ass, Y/N.

Y/N : really? 

should i send the video?

Harvey : DO NOT!!

I asked you to delete it years ago. :(

Y/N : LOL you’re totally drunk

i’ll ask emily to take some funny photos

i’ve been meaning to update your contact pic anyway

Harvey : You are impossible.

Harvey felt like a teenager again, hiding his grin and tinted cheeks behind his hand. 

Harvey : Are you at home?

Y/N : yeah, i’m beat, probably gonna head to bed

still down for the festival on tuesday?

His posture straightened as he suddenly remembered the invitation he’d given you to the Stardew Valley Fair. After checking the date and seeing that it was Saturday, he realized he had less than a week to mentally prepare himself for the event. 

“Shit,” he swore quietly, once again not noticing the appalled look on Elliott’s face at his swear. Shane snickered, no doubt finding it amusing to see the doctor so intoxicated — it was largely his fault, after all, since he’d been determined to partake in as many rounds as humanely possible.

Harvey : Of course! Why don’t I meet you at the clinic?

I’ll have to close up in the morning, so you can come in and wait for me.

Y/N : wow, inviting me over to your clinic? 

does this mean i get a free check-up? 

A free . . . check-up?

Harvey could only imagine this was what short-circuiting felt like.

Apparently, alcohol caused his thoughts to run even more wild. Images of you propped up on his examination table and smiling at him innocently flashed through his mind, his fingers frozen and unable to type out a response.

“Talking to Y/N, I’m guessing?” Harvey quickly closed his phone at the sound of Gus’s voice, realizing Shane must have ordered yet another round of drinks for everyone. His friends looked away, though he could still make out their amused smirks. “How’s that goin’ for ya?”

Right. After his first dinner with you in town, Harvey had confessed to Gus the situation he was in, his head bowed in guilt as he lectured him about treating you properly. Despite his protectiveness over you, Gus was still supportive of his feelings, giving him as much advice as he could.

“It’s, uh, going well,” Harvey replied, thinking that was the best word to describe your relations with him as of late. “We’re just as close as we were before.”

The older man nodded, grabbing the empty glasses to stow them away. “Well, you better take care of her, son. It’s not every day people have a connection like the two of you do, and I’d hate to see either of ya get hurt.” With that, Gus worked his way over to the next table, leaving Harvey to sit with his words.

“He’s right,” Shane said, pushing over another glass to him. “You two are somethin’ else for sure. Kinda makes me sick.”

“I would expect nothing less,” Elliott countered. Upon seeing half his new drink was already gone, Harvey questioned how his speech was still comprehensible. “As I have been insisting since our dear Harvey first brought up the farmer, these two are a clear example of fate .”

“Oh, enough with that bullshit. Fate this, fate that — if fate’s real, why can’t it get me a new fuckin’ job, huh? That place makes me feel like I’m losing whatever brain cells I have left.”

Buzz!

“What does she want, anyway?” Shane asked, attempting to read Harvey’s screen. He quickly picked up his phone, looking away sheepishly as he hid your conversation. His friend huffed an unamused laugh, shrugging. “This is some damn middle school shit,” he grumbled, and Elliott laughed into his glass as he sipped his drink.

Y/N : relax harvs, i can practically see you having a heart attack through the screen

it was a joke btw, i’ll make sure to properly pay and schedule an appointment whenever i need one :salute:

Great. Now you thought he was being stingy. 

Harvey : Sorry, I got distracted. You know you can come in whenever you’d like.

Y/N : i know, thanks dr. harvey 

anyways, have fun, i’m off to bed

goodnight!

Harvey : Goodnight, Y/N.

When Harvey awoke the next morning, blinking past the dull ache in his head, he saw an unread text from you sent an hour before. His eyes widened as he opened it, realizing Emily must have listened to your request and snuck a picture of him when he wasn’t paying attention.

Of course, she had caught him while he was texting you, his face and ears burning red and his hidden smile completely up for show in the photo. He groaned in embarrassment, certain you would notice his expression and question him for it.

Instead, your text focused on a completely different aspect of the image.

Y/N : what the hell are those two idiots doing??

Confused, Harvey looked back at the picture and zoomed in, stifling a laugh at the sight of his two friends in the middle of a heated argument. Shane’s lips were pulled back in an aggressive snark while Elliott raised his phone to his face, his eyes lit with an honest passion.

Harvey : Lovers’ quarrel. Happens every day.

-

Memories hit you like a truck as you and your horse slowly headed towards town. You could practically smell the buttered popcorn and hear the ringing sound of festival games already filling the air. The Stardew Valley festival used to be the perfect way to end your summers as a kid, especially when your grandfather would tag along with you. He would always take your hand and smile at you warmly, sometimes even giving you a pouch of coins to spend on your own. You smiled to yourself at the thought. Although he wasn’t walking beside you anymore, you swore you could still feel his familiar energy around you.

Or maybe Emily’s starting to get to me. 

Either way, your excitement only grew at the sight of the booths and games coming together, making sure to stop by your stand and drop off the goods you brought to show off. You were sure each of the items was of top quality and glanced at the other displays to see your competition, though you already knew who you had to beat. You glared at Pierre’s abundant stand, scoffing as you made your way toward Harvey’s clinic. Surely, you would win against the overconfident store owner — you were growing your own crops, after all. 

You poked your head into the clinic, eyes brightening at the sight of your childhood friend. Harvey, too consumed in tidying up, didn’t notice you right away, continuing to rearrange some items in the cabinet and humming to himself. You were suddenly reminded of the image Emily sent you the night before, recalling how, for a split second, you’d thought Harvey looked a bit cute with his flushed cheeks and ears. He’d always gotten a bit pink when he drank, but something about that particular angle of him caught your eye. Maybe it was the fact that he was looking at his phone, no doubt in the middle of texting you? Or maybe it was the dumb smile on his face?

Not that you would ever mention any of that, though. Why would you? They were simply quick thoughts you were having, nothing more.

No, you opted to instead highlight the incredibly stupid looks on his friends’ faces, laughing when he called them lovers. Although you didn’t nearly talk to the other two men as much as he did, you could tell they were all good friends. You were glad Harvey had a circle of support around him — knowing him, he constantly had something to stress over, and you knew you couldn’t always be there for him.

You walked up behind Harvey, giving him an exasperated look when he still didn’t turn around. Half-smiling, you extended your hands toward him, slowly inching closer before poking his sides.

“ Boo! ”

“ Huh —?”

Harvey jumped as he yelped in surprise, dropping several rolls of bandages onto the floor. He bent forward and rested his hands on his knees to catch his breath, all while you died of laughter beside him.

“You know I scare easily!” he complained, standing straight to adjust his glasses. 

“Of course I know,” you replied, wiping a fake tear off your cheek. “That’s why I did it.”

“You will never stop tormenting me, will you?”

“Nope. Not ‘til I drop dead.”

“Great,” he deadpanned, shaking his head. “Were you able to finish all your farmwork this morning?”

You nodded, lips still stretched into a lingering smile. “Pet bowls filled, animals fed, and crops watered — all done.” You glanced around the room, noticing he was alone. “Where’s Maru?”

That’s an innocent question, right? Of course it was. She worked under him, after all, it only made sense to ask why she wasn’t there to help. One thought led to another in your head, and suddenly, you were thinking about the Flower Dance; about how pink Maru’s face had been while talking to Harvey; about the soft shyness covering his face, an expression you didn’t know how to read and would bet your farmland it was because he reserved it for her and her only—

“Oh, I told her to sleep in,” he replied easily, putting the bandages in their proper place. “There wasn’t much to do, so I figured I would just get it out of the way.”

Of course. Of course, he told her to sleep in, because Harvey was and always would be thoughtful, more than you’d ever understand.

“Not much to do, huh?” you repeated, and he nodded.

Without warning, you grabbed Harvey’s arm and began to drag him out of the clinic, ignoring his protests about his unfinished work. 

“You can finish when you get back, Harvey, the clinic isn’t going anywhere,” you said, anticipation filling you as Lewis had just finished looking at all the displays. “Mayor Lewis, hey!” You waved him down, and he greeted both of you with a big smile.

“It’s good to see you two.” He sighed, a wistful look taking over him. “I can’t believe how much you’ve grown up. Ah, before I forget,” he started, reaching into his pocket. “Y/N, congratulations! You won first place with a rating of a hundred.” You whooped, nearly knocking Harvey over with your excitement as you happily accepted the small bag Lewis gave you. “Here, your prize is a thousand star tokens — use them wisely!”

“A thousand? ” Harvey questioned, peering into the bag. “We used to spend the entire day getting this many tokens.”

“And now, we have a head start,” you said, an old sense of competitiveness creeping its way back into your senses. “Let’s go win some prizes!”

As the plaza began to fill with more and more people, you and Harvey fell back onto your old rhythm — while you took care of all the games requiring strength and technique, he took care of the trickier, mind-twisting ones. Your jaw remained dropped as he stared at the wheel for the seventh time in a row, a finger touching his lips as he thought.

“Green,” Harvey said, to which the man running the game scowled. 

“You sure, bud? You seem awful confident, but your luck might just run out,” he reasoned, though you could tell he was trying to trick him.

Harvey narrowed his eyes. “I’m sure.” 

You laughed giddily as the two of you walked away from the wheel with a heavy sack of tokens, Harvey flaunting a proud look on his face.

“I still don’t get it — how do you do that?” you asked, in awe at his winning streak that had remained unbroken since you first played with him. “You make us tons more compared to that slingshot game!”

He shrugged, putting his hands in his coat pockets. “I mean, after stopping by every year, I started to recognize the pattern. I suppose it’s more statistics, since there’s a much higher chance that—”

“Look who it is!” 

You felt a light punch land on your shoulder as Alex and Haley approached you, watching amusedly as Haley scolded him for hitting you.

“Geez, it wasn’t even that hard,” he mumbled, but lightened up at the sight of your pouch. “You guys won those already?”

“Honestly, it was mostly Harvey,” you admitted, nudging his arm. “Ever since we were kids, he’s always been scarily good at that wheel game. What were you saying, Harvs? Something about statistics, or something?”

No response. 

You looked at him, noticing he was suddenly spacing out and staring at the space in between the two in front of you.

“Harvey? You okay?”

“What?” he questioned, blinking. “Yes, uh, it’s just some simple math, that’s all. Nothing much to it.”

Haley huffed. “Well, can you teach this guy how to do it? ‘Cause whenever I play with him, we never seem to win anything.” Alex opened his mouth to respond, but she paid no mind, opting to walk toward the game Leah was playing instead.

“Wait up!” Just as he was about to turn, Alex looked back at you, grinning. “I’ll see you around, Y/N! Hey, if I have any leftover tokens, I’ll get you something from the prize booth, okay?”

“Deal!” 

After he ran to catch up with the blonde, you turned back to Harvey, cocking your head at the serious look that had hooded over his eyes.

“Um, you sure you’re okay?” you asked, but before you could question him further, he took your arm and led you to the prize booth, gently taking the tokens from your hand. You had never seen him look so determined before, as if he was trying to prove something.

“Here you go, ma’am,” he said, sliding them over to the lady behind the counter. “I believe this should be enough for one of everything you have.”

“One of—? Harvey, what are you doing?!”

That’s how the two of you ended up leaving the Stardew Valley Festival early, Harvey helping you carry home the copious amount of prizes you received.

“You’re sure you don’t want any of this? Come on, Harvs, you practically won all of this yourself,” you said, opening the door to your house. 

Harvey shook his head, smiling as he placed everything in a neat pile at the foot of your bed. You had never seen so many stuffed animals in your life.

“Please, I have no space for any of this in my apartment, anyway.” He looked fondly at the matching bear they’d given the two of you — although yours was obviously more worn down, the design on the new one was the exact same as its counterpart.

You shook your head, pressing the bear back into his arms. “I’ve already got mine, this one can be yours. I can’t have two of the same thing.” You definitely could. Part of you just liked the idea of matching with him.

“If you insist.” He smiled at the stuffed animal in his arms, though it quickly wiped from his face as he turned to leave. “Is that . . .?” You followed his gaze, stomach dropping at what had caught his eye.

He was staring directly at the bouquet you’d hung by your bedside the first morning you had moved in.

Fuck, fuck. He can’t know, I had no idea what those stupid flowers meant back then! You wanted to punch your past self in the jaw for her stupidity. After the Spring season had past, you’d learned the true meaning behind the bouquets Pierre sold, cursing him for not telling you back then. There was no way Harvey could know you bought it with him in mind, not when neither of you saw each other in that way.

Not when he had Maru in mind, supposedly the girl he felt he was constantly gravitating towards.

“Oh, that?” you laughed awkwardly, a cold sweat brewing on your neck. “I bought it for myself!”

He blinked, and for a second, you thought you saw relief flash in his eyes. “Ah, for . . . yourself?”

“Hey, don’t judge,” you responded, crossing your arms. “I just thought they looked nice, so I decided to dry the whole thing to make it last. That’s all.”

“But you do know what a bouquet symbolizes, correct?”

“I do, in fact, know what they mean, Dr. Judgey,” you shot back, feigning offense. “What happened to being a supportive friend?”

“Alright, enough with the dramatism,” he laughed lightly, adjusting his hold on the bear. “I had fun today, Y/N. Um . . . thank you, for spending time with me.”

The tension left your shoulders as you smiled at him. “It’s the least I can do, especially after you got me all this stuff.” You held the door open for him as he left. “Same time next year?” you asked playfully. He managed to salute in agreement with one of his hands, peeking around the stuffed animal’s body to make sure he wasn’t running into anything. 

You spent the rest of the night staring at the flowers on the wall, wondering why your heart clenched whenever you thought back to Harvey seeing them. There was no way he could figure it out, right? As smart as he was, you highly doubted he would think the bouquet was meant for him. You used to visibly gag in front of him whenever people mentioned the idea of you dating him.

So, why were you now having the same reaction at the thought of him dating someone else?

You groaned in frustration into your pillow, lifting your head to look at the pestering flowers once more. You knew it wasn’t fair — it wasn’t fair you were just starting to like him when you’d quite literally had years to do so, and it especially wasn’t fair that he was, in fact, in love with someone else. You couldn’t blame him, though, of course you couldn’t. Maru was smart, pretty, and kind; she lined up with Harvey perfectly.

And yet, there was a part of you screaming there was no one more fitting for him than you. It didn’t matter, though. None of your thoughts mattered if Harvey didn’t see you in that light, if all he saw when he looked at you was his childhood friend who he was able to reconnect with.

You closed your eyes.

It never hurt to pretend, though.

[alnilaem]

Ok hear me out……

It’s the middle of summer, on what looks like to be the hottest day of the year, and the power has just gone out in Trouble and butcher!Simon’s building. Trouble gets a text from Simon inviting her over to help him finish the popsicles in his fridge before they melt. She shows up wearing just a tank top and a ratty old pair of gym shorts, and he answers the door shirtless and in only his boxers. She can’t help but notice just how thick his arms are, built from years of hard work, and the fleeting thought of having those arms wrapped around her make her face just a bit hotter. She catches him glancing at her legs when he thinks she’s not looking.

The two of them are sitting on opposite ends of his couch, though considering just how big Simon is and how small his couch is, the distance between them doesn’t account for much. Trouble can still feel the heat radiating off his body and smell the musky remnants of whatever deodorant or cologne he used that morning.

They sit in a comfortable silence, enjoying what little relief the cold popsicles grant them from the overwhelming heat. Simon has a window cracked, but there’s barely a breeze. If anything, the open window is just making it hotter by allowing whatever cool air was in Simons apartment to escape. Trouble begins to tell Simon about the job she’s recently interviewed for, and he’s just grunting out vague hums to show that he’s listening despite the heat making his brain work slower and taking away his desire to move even the smallest muscle, lest it create more body heat.

As she is telling her story, Simon looks over and sees a bead of sweat slowly rolling down Trouble’s neck and into the crevice of her collarbone. On impulse, he reaches over and swipes a finger, wiping away the drop of sweat, and Trouble looks up just in time to see him placing that same finger on his tongue. Tasting her sweat and looking like he’s savouring a delicacy. She stops mid sentence, shocked and unable to react.

Maybe it’s because the heat has melted her brain, but Trouble doesn’t seem to find herself disgusted. Instead, she becomes more aware of how her clothes seem to stick to her skin, how the sweetness of the popsicle she was just enjoying has now become saccharine on her tongue, and how it seems like the heat between her legs is even warmer than the sun burning in the sky.

The tension between them is palpable. Trouble darts out her tongue to clean her lips from the melted popsicle, and slowly swallows, aware of Simons eyes following her every movement. She sees his eyes linger on her lips, as he slowly sucks on the finger that wiped away her sweat. His eyes flicker shut and his mouth slowly opens in a silent moan. In that moment Trouble can’t decide which is more unbearable, the suffocating, stagnant air in the room, or just how badly she wants to fuck her next door neighbour.

And then they fuck 🫣

anon my volume is at 100% i am hearing you ALL THE WAY OUT. i dont even know what to add to this….. this is so GOOD. simon swiping a wash of her sweat and tasting it????? this is making me miss butcher simon cause i havent written him in a while but oh my goodness. i need to make them smash asap dont i 😔

[all-together-now]

ATN!Tangle and Tikal are just chatting at the Restoration’s Chao Garden, when a wormhole suddenly opens up.

And through it flew FOF!Tangle, in her Uncaged form, looking like she had just punched something. She landed on the floor hard, bouncing it like a trampoline and flinging some chao in the air.

“Oops!” she yelped. She zigzagged around, successfully catching all the chao in under a second and screeching to a halt with a cartoony sound effect playing.

She looked around a bit, and found her counterpart, Tikal and a bunch of other chao. All of them, including the chao in her arms, had their jaws dropped.

“…okay, either I entered another wormhole, or I punched that mech WAY too hard.”

Tikal and Tangle didn't say anything for a second. They just kept staring. Uncaged Tangle chuckled nervously as she set down the Chao.

"Uh...Helloooooo?!" she called, stretching her hand out and waving it in front of their faces, "Earth to you guys!"

That only got ATN!Tangle and Tikal's eyes to widen. As Uncaged Tangle reeled her arm back in, ATN!Tangle glanced at Tikal.

"I swear I was joking when talking about a super form for me," she said, pointing at Uncaged Tangle.

Tikal scoffed playfully, "I don't freaking believe you, to be honest!"

"There you two are," Uncaged Tangle snickered, "I thought I lost ya for a second. Good to see you both again."

"Aha...yes...good to see you too, scar Tangle," Tikal chuckled.

"Scar Tangle? Really?"

"I mean...it's the only discernable feature you have compared to our Tangle...well, normally it is anyway."

The Tangle in question bolted straight towards Uncaged Tangle and grabbed her hands.

"YOU NEVER MENTIONED YOU COULD GO SUPER!!!!!" she squealed.

"Yeah I did!" Uncaged Tangle retorted.

"Not to me you didn't!"

"Yeah, you only told me about that," Tikal pointed out.

"Oh...oops," Uncaged Tangle shrugged, crossing her eyes and sticking her tongue out.

"Still, you never mentioned these...extraordinary abilities you posses with the Emeralds," Tikal said, inspecting the glowing lemur's arm, "This is unprecedented power!"

"Heh. I do recall a certain echidna telling me it had to do with all my positive energy..."

Tikal smiled widely.

"Knuckles. Knuckles said that," Uncaged Tangle clarified.

Tikal's smile fell to an unamused from instantly. ATN!Tangle wheeled around and got right up into Tikal's face.

"I'm a ray of sunshine! Everyone says so at least! Can I try and get a super form like that!" she gushed, falling to her knees, "Please, please, please, pretty please!!"

Tikal smirked, "We don't exactly have the Chaos Emeralds on hand to try that. Sorry Tangle."

The lemur hung her head low and sulked. Uncaged Tangle chuckled, due in part to all the little Chao swarming and singing around her.

All eyes turned towards the front door when the bell above it rang.

"Hey, Tangle!" Bean waved, carrying a very big bomb, "Come check out-"

Bean then tripped over a Chao crawling around in front of him. While he faceplanted and stopped dead, the bomb rolled forward. It's fuse somehow lit itself, and started to fizzle down as it rolled closer to the group. Tikal and Tangle screamed, but Uncaged Tangle leapt between them.

"Don't worry! I know exactly what to do!" she said as she picked up the explosive.

She shoved the bomb, which mind you was at least as tall as her, into her mouth whole and swallowed it. Tikal, Tangle, and the Chao's jaws dropped again, but Uncaged Tangle seemed totally unbothered. A second later and the bomb went off in her stomach, and you could tell from the way Uncaged Tangle's stomach bloated and gunpowder shot out from her nose and ears for a split second.

"Woof..." she sighed, waving at her smoking tongue, "That one hurt a lot more than the first one."

"The first one?" Tangle gawked.

There was suddenly a very unsettling *CRACK* as Bean's head snapped up and looked towards the yellow and white lemur.

"YOU!!" he snarled, shooting up from the floor instantly.

"Oop! That's my cue to leave! Great seeing you two again!" Uncaged Tangle waved before bolting to the other side of the room.

She ran straight into the wall, and left a perfect outline where she crashed through. Bean raced past Tikal and Tangle undeterred, and leapt towards the hole.

He smacked against the solid wall and slowly slid down it until he fell backwards onto the floor. Tangle and Tikal rushed over and inspected the hole. Tikal ran her fingers across it, and discovered it was just black paint.

"You think she got home?" she asked.

Tangle just shrugged.

[psiroller]

you're gonna hate me soon ch. 2 preview. because i like you a lot

When the party reconvened the following Monday, it was like nothing had ever happened. It wasn’t the first time that someone in the group had drunk a little too much or too fast and said something they shouldn’t have—that person was usually Laios—but it hadn’t gone as far as a fistfight in recent memory. Still, when Laios and Falin arrived at their usual spot at the tavern, his teammates greeted him like any other day. Chilchuck raised a stein of something Laios hoped wasn’t alcoholic to hail him, but there was an ever-so-slight upturn to his normal morning grimace, so maybe it was. Laios felt his pulse quicken and focused on his breathing, but it just made him look even more flustered. He cleared his throat in address.

“Alright, everyone, it’s slim pickings on the available jobs this week,” Laios announced. “There weren’t many listings on the boards, and most of them sounded sketchy. Another ‘package delivery’ to one of the unregulated taverns on the second floor, another ‘contraband seizure’ on the lower levels with no seal of authenticity, tons of requests for those kinds of walking mushrooms, a couple of ‘succubus hunts’ looking for entry-level adventurers…”

Chilchuck rolled his eyes and clucked his tongue. “People are still posting those? I can’t imagine there’s a wide pool of scabs left to take them.”

“There’s a sucker born every minute,” Namari shrugged, gnawing on a strip of bacon burnt into a stick of charcoal, just the way she liked it. “Half-minute, for you guys.”

Chilchuck swatted Namari in the shoulder, a backhanded crack of his knuckles that felt like a bug bite to her. She laughed it off, giving him a gentle sock in the arm that made him wince.

“The postings have been generally dubious lately, haven’t they?” Shuro asked. Laios nodded to him, defeated.

“There’s a lot of bureaucratic red tape involved in making sure the job postings are legitimate,” Marcille said, twining a ribbon through her rope braid. Falin went to hold one of the partitioned locks of hair for her as she struggled with an awkward angle. “But I’ve heard that the correspondence offices are swamped with all the new people coming to the island lately. Maybe things are starting to slip through the cracks?”

“Nothing’s stopping anybody from just walking up to the public postings and sticking up a piece of official-looking parchment, either,” said Laios. “Generally, there are officers on patrol to monitor what goes up, but they go out in shifts. If they’re spread too thin, they check less, forget more often, and a newbie takes a crappy monster bait job.”

“And probably dies,” Chilchuck chimed in.

“Thank you, Chilchuck.”

“So, is there anything worth doing this week?” Namari crossed her arms. “Or could I have slept in today?”

“There is one…” Laios said, trying to contain his excitement. “There’s a hydra on the fourth floor.”

Namari grinned and leaned in, elbows on the table. “Now we’re talking.”

Shuro nodded seriously, indicating he was already planning his approach. Marcille blanched at the concept; she hadn’t been to the fourth floor yet in her adventuring career. Falin had assisted in the job hunt and was aware of the plan, but she still grinned toothily at the thought of seeing one.

“You sure we can handle a hydra?” Chilchuck asked. “Two manticores were tough enough. These things have a dozen heads, don’t they? It’s like fighting a whole group of monsters at once.”

“Oh?” Laios grinned. “Are you planning on participating in the hunt this time?”

Chilchuck spat his orange juice (?) back into the cup. “Hell no!”

“That’s a shame,” Laios pouted. “At any rate, I was hoping to borrow those manticore quills you picked up. Did you happen to sell those off?”

Chilchuck had to think about it, scratching his sideburns. Laios had seen him hungover before, but he was in a better mood than usual for such a state, if a bit slow. “I think I got a few still lying around.” He’d been planning to try to find a way to fletch them without spilling the venom everywhere, having found no success. The tips were sharply pointed and might serve well as a pick if carved down, but they were quite valuable in their raw form. Like many things he had trouble deciding on, they’d been stuffed under his desk and left alone.

Laios beamed at him. “Awesome. That’ll be really helpful.” Chilchuck averted his eyes and got his orange juice (?) back down on the second shot.

“Don’t mention it.”

“According to the posting, this hydra is still a juvenile.” Laios continued. “It should be much easier to take down than a full-grown adult, but there’s something to consider: this listing is almost a month old by now. The hydra shouldn’t have grown too much from that sighting, but we all know the thing about hydras, right?”

Everyone around the table nodded; Namari made a what-do-you-think sort of gesture.

“I need all of you to verbally confirm it for me, okay? Just to be sure.”

A collective groan arose.

“Cut off all the heads at once, or two more grow in its place,” the party intoned, with the slow and deliberate cadence of grammar schoolers.

“Very good, everyone. Thank you. I know that sounds insulting, but if you have experience in this kind of work, you know why I’m checking.”

“Common rookie mistake.” Namari sipped her coffee.

“That’s right. And if there’s an influx of rookies coming in, desperate for work…”

“Then the hydra might have gotten a few heads trimmed already.” Shuro folded his arms into his sleeves. “That could be a problem.”

“But it also means that there’s more we can loot from it,” Laios smiled. He pumped his fist a little, unable to control his excitement. “We’ve got some good experience under our belts now, and I’ve done a lot of research on hydras. I think we’re ready to take one on now. They’re fascinating monsters, members of the dragon family! They’ve got an extremely interesting skeletal adaptation that—”

“Sounds good to me.” Namari rose from the bench and stretched, pulling her arm over her shoulder. “I need a really thin taper on the blade for hydras, right?”

“Y-yeah, the hide’s thin for a dragon but the muscle is tough. We need to make sure we get a clean, complete slice when we do get the chance to take a swing. When hydras are young, their heads get severed easily. It sounds like it’s counterintuitive, but—”

“I get it. I’ve fought them before. Just tell me when to slice ‘em and I’ll slice ‘em.”

“See, that’s the problem. We don’t know exactly how many heads this thing has. How do we ensure that we cut them all off at once?” Namari grimaced and sat down, settling in for another lecture. “So that’s why I asked you to meet me here! I have an attack strategy I like to call ‘the kebab method’.”

Namari stood back up. “Nah, that’s cool, see you—”

Chilchuck put a hand on her arm. “Let him talk, Namari.”

Namari stared incredulously down at Chilchuck, then grimaced when she put the pieces together. She clucked her tongue and flopped into her seat for good. She elbowed Chilchuck in the ribs and muttered something in a language Laios didn’t recognize. Chilchuck drummed his fingertips on his arm and ignored it.

Laios smiled down at Chilchuck, and the sour look on his face softened. He twirled his wrist, motioning for Laios to continue. “Continue. I don’t have all day, pal.”

Laios chuckled, blushing a bit. “Right, sorry! So, the manticore quills are great for this, but I’ve also picked up some long-range spears—well, I guess they’re more like polearms?” Falin shot Marcille a horrified glance. The hydra was the furthest thing from their minds. Namari opened her mouth to correct him on his weapons terminology but jolted a little, having gotten kicked in the ankle. “Each head of the hydra has its own spinal cord, much like ours, that runs down down the center and to the back of the hydra’s throat.  So if you stab around the spine between the ribs that protect the hydra’s esophagus, everything stays intact. Severing the spinal cord is what triggers the new heads to grow in, provided that at least one head is left intact when the reflex kicks in.”

“So we could use those polearms to hold it in place? I don’t think my upper arm strength can pull that off,” Marcille protested.

“We could push the spears into the walls and floor to ground them,” Shuro offered. Laios snapped his fingers.

“Yes! That’s a great idea. But I could only afford so many spears, and Chilchuck only has so many quills long enough to pull this off. So it’s important that we’re careful about how many we use. Considering how thin the hydra’s necks are, I thought we could try to skewer multiple heads on the same spear.”

A silence fell on the party, and perhaps the next table over, upon hearing this flawless plan.

“Hence, the kebab method,” Marcille clarified, her tone flat. Chilchuck shrank into his chair when he felt Namari looking over at him. Laios nodded.

“I think it could work,” Shuro said. Laios lit up at the validation. “There’s some merit to restricting the hydra’s movements. Not all of us can restrain the beast on our own, but if securely speared through, we could use the hydra’s muscle strength against itself. Stabbing through the esophagus would also prevent the hydra from swallowing any of us outright, if it has grown large enough to do so.”

“Exactly! Thank you, Shuro.” Shuro seemed a little exhausted by his energy, but Falin gave him a hearty pat on the shoulder that he’d be thinking about for the rest of his life. “And we don’t have to get a perfect hit with every spear. I got as many as I could afford, so if the hydra rips the spear out of your hands or it’s too dangerous to keep going, we can fall back, grab another spear, and try again.”

“So we’re trying to reduce the amount of variables in fighting the hydra?” Marcille asked, more convinced this time.

“The less we have to worry about the hydra writhing around, the easier it’ll be to synchronize the finishing blow.” Laios grinned at Namari. “And that’s when we finally slice ‘em. Everyone clear?”

Namari grinned back. Shuro bowed his head in understanding. Marcille still had her reservations, but Falin was pumping her up. Chilchuck sat back in his seat with his arms crossed, abstaining from any conversation about combat, but when Laios caught his eye, the corner of his mouth curved up in a smirk that Laios couldn’t decipher.

“That’s—that’s all!” Laios croaked. “We’ll all meet at the dungeon tomorrow, as usual. Take whatever preparations you need. Pack heavily, it’s a long trip.”

The party dispersed. Falin and Marcille lingered at their end of the table as Namari hustled to leave, lost in consideration of what weapon she’d be taking down with her. Shuro hung around for a while, trying to find an inroad to talk to Falin, but Marcille was well-equipped to play defense and came prepared with updated Daltian Clan relationship charts. The long-haired swordsman was stuck talking to Laios for an excruciating moment before he politely excused himself.

“Hey,” Chilchuck said, raising a hand. Laios turned from watching Shuro leave, ears perked.

“You have a question, Chilchuck?”

“You mind going over that thing you said about their skeleton? Sounded like it might have been important. You said severing the spinal cord is what activates the head… growing… thing?”

Laios’ eyes glittered. “Oh, uh, yeah! It’s like how some lizards can drop and regrow their tails, just done way faster. Most lizards don’t regrow brains in their missing limbs, either, so maybe it’s not the best analogy…”

“How come it dies if all the heads come off? Can’t it just regrow them anyway?”

“That’s a great question, and one still up for debate! The leading theory is that the heads grown by the hydra are clones based on one of the intact heads. They have the same scale patterns and eye colors as the one closest to it on the array, and…”

Falin had tuned out of Marcille’s rant and had tuned into Laios’, instead. She watched as Chilchuck leaned onto his elbow and listened, looking bored. Laios continued undaunted. Marcille’s slight hand came to rest on Falin’s shoulder, and she gave a reassuring squeeze.

“You don’t have to protect him from everything, you know,” Marcille whispered. Falin bonked their foreheads together and sighed.

“I just can’t watch him get hurt,” Falin said. “Never could.”

Marcille coaxed Falin out of her seat to go get breakfast with her, leaving Chilchuck and Laios shoulder-to-elbow on the bench.

“So it’s kind of like how a flower can grow back if you prune it right,” Chilchuck said, nudging his plate over to Laios, tossing him an unused fork and knife swaddled in a napkin. There was an uneaten, soggy waffle on it, but Laios wasn’t picky. He bit into his takeout budget to get their hunting supplies.

“Yeah, that works! If you cut too much off the whole thing wilts. Most flowers aren’t trying to wrestle you into pruning them, though, so you have to…”

[exalok]

(car accident)

(from this whump month list; tw injuries and implied previous child abuse)

"—oh shit oh fuck oh shit oh fuck he's gonna kill me he's gonna kill me—"

"Can you get it open??"

"It's stuck, it's fucking—I think something's broken—"

The world is very bright. There's something in her mouth and her head is on fire.

"Wha's borken," she mumbles, and thinks, oh, maybe me. The shouting nearby gets louder, which doesn't exactly hurt but makes something heavy and urgent inside her flop like it's trying to get out.

"Try the other door," sharp, ow, she tries to turn away but everything is too hot and stiff to move, "—oh shit, fine, okay, okay, other door, okay—" and something is crackling—is that her? Is that bad crackling? She doesn't think she should be crackling— "Billie? Billie??"

"'m right here," she says, but the words end up mostly spit. Something wipes across her mouth a little too roughly to be comforting.

"I think you bit your tongue." Oh. Not spit, then. Something else is messing around with her jacket. "You said you could drive."

She messily bats the hands away and says, "Well I lied," squinting her eyes open, trying to remember why it matters.

She's in a car. Okay. That makes sense. Or it will, when she remembers why. The passenger side door is open, and—Rinaldo is scrabbling at her seatbelt, and through the hole in the cracked-up window Thomas is biting his lip and smearing the glass with his dark-stained sleeve, darting looks between her and the road ahead. Or the countryside. There are more trees than she's used to seeing.

Why is the window cracked? Daud just got this car, she can recognize the stupid pumpkin-shaped air-freshener she got him hanging from the rearview mirror.

Why is she in the driver's seat?

Oh fuck, she thinks as Rinaldo manages to get her seatbelt open and tugs on her jacket's shoulder like he thinks he can just haul her from the seat. Oh shit. She just crashed Daud's new car. She just went for a joyride with her stupid fake brothers and crashed Daud's new car.

"'m run'ng away," she says, "I'm gonna live in a hole an'—never come back," just as the approaching sound of a motor quiets down and Thomas and Rin go completely silent.

Well. She knows whose big old boots those must be crunching up the road then. She closes her eyes.

"Get in the back," says the voice she's starting to get used to.

"How did you know we'd be—"

"Shut your mouth and get in the back. Rin. Out. With him."

Rin scrambles to follow orders; muffles his swearing when he jams his knee against the stick shift.

"Billie."

Maybe if she makes him think she's dead it won't be as bad. She tries holding her breath, but her neck and head start to pound, and her temple burns like she's got it up against a pot of boiling water.

"Billie. I saw you talking."

She opens her eyes and glares through the windshield. His hand sticks through the hole in the window to hover in front of her mouth. He's holding a handkerchief.

"Spit."

She spits. Then she stares at the bloody glob in his palm. There's a tooth in there.

"Hrm. Lose all your baby teeth yet?"

"I'm fourteen," she growls, but instead of being intimidating it sounds like she's trying to hack up a loogie.

"Glad to know you haven't completely lost your mind. What's the year?"

"Year of your old ass got fired and had to switch jobs."

"And the president?"

"President Eat My Shorts," she says, trying to sit up so she can climb out of the mess she made and hide in the back of whatever car Daud drove here, but then his big square hand is on her shoulder pushing her back into the seat and she just folds, the too-hot feeling of all-over pain turning to cold sweat, keeping very still. "President Kaldwin, sir."

"It's Daud," he corrects her, but he leaves his hand there on her shoulder, and she doesn't know what that means so she keeps on not moving. "Headache?"

"Yes."

"Does breathing hurt?"

She goes to say yes on reflex, because everything does, but takes a second to breathe in deep and check: her skull tightens like a hand and it makes her lightheaded, but her ribs feel fine. "No. 'm just dizzy."

"Alright."

Then he's quiet for a bit. She sneaks a look at him and he's got the same pissed off face as always, cold gray eyes looking down at her. He probably thinks she did this just to piss him off. He probably thinks she's a stupid fucking kid who doesn't know what's good for her. (He's probably not even completely wrong. What the fuck was she thinking. It just— It sounded like a nice time.)

"Alright," he says again, and turns around, and she jumps up in her seat so fast her head practically explodes.

"Dad—" she shouts and has to stop, mortified, and also in a lot of pain, and that's why the tear slips down, alright, it's because it hurts, it hurts like a motherfucker. "Daud," she corrects, but he's already turned back to her.

He's still got the handkerchief she spit up a bunch of blood into in his hand. "Attano drove me here," he says. Which. Alright. Doesn't have anything to do with anything, but fine. "I'll tell him to take the boys home. Then I'll wait with you for the ambulance." ... Oh. Okay. "He called the hospital when we got here."

"That costs money," she says, as if she's protesting.

"Kids cost money," he retorts. "It's my business if I spend mine on you three. Now stop squirming around, you could have damaged your spine."

She slowly sinks back into the seat and waits for the sound of his boots to return.

[one-equaltemper]

🎀 below the cut 🎀

Hermione isn’t typically clumsy. In fact, she’s never really been one to take a tumble— never really scraped her knee as a child or landed on her hands, leaving her palms raw and gravel-filled. Other than her unfortunate, but also fortunate, injury the night she met Draco, she’s not really one for needing any kind of medical attention.

She’s never had a stay in a hospital, never needed to urgently see her GP other than for the flu or that time she was down for nearly a month with glandular fever during her first year of university (a little gift from Ginny’s brother after she let him stick his tongue down her throat once). She’s lucky that way and she knows it. Still, she remembers as a kid being a little bit envious of the attention given to a girl in her class when she’d broken her arm. For ages she considered that maybe, possibly, an injury of that sort wouldn’t be too bad.

Alright, maybe not her whole arm but…even a toe! A broken toe couldn’t be too painful.

Alas, it was never in the cards for her. She stays out of the A&E, out of the hospital entirely, out of her GP’s office except for her annual physical. No cast for her friends to sign or sympathy to gather. Just her perfectly healthy, non-injured, never-broken-a-bone self.

Until, of course, a normal, everyday walk with Ginny, a larger-than-necessary iced coffee in her hand and a tote bag over her shoulder, her sunnies slipping down off her nose as she rummages in her bag for the book she’d just finished reading that her friend had asked to read next. Her sandals are a little bit loose because they’re rubbing against the side of her foot and the pavement is a bit cracked and uneven because…well, it’s London, and her attention is entirely elsewhere when she trips over one of the stupid little cracks and crashes to the ground.

A blinding pain rips through her arm but all she can focus on is the way her iced coffee has exploded on the pavement, splattering her white cotton dress…a complete and total waste of £3.50.

“Oh fuck.” She hears Ginny’s voice from somewhere above her but her neck is stiff and her temple is pounding. “Shit, Hermione, you’re bleeding. Oh God.”

She groans and catches sight of her plastic cup, iced coffee pooling on the pavement and pieces of ice scattered about and…she pouts. She hadn’t even been able to take a single sip before she’d ended up sprawled along the pavement. Her mouth has gone all dry and funky and—

“Hermione? Are you even listening to me?” Ginny asks, her voice halfway to a shriek. “Fuck. Oh— fuuuuck, your head. You’re bleeding!”

Her hand automatically comes up to press against the throbbing spot on her temple, rubbing the spot like she might be able to make the ache go away, but when she pulls her hand back she catches sight of something red on her fingertips. 

Paling, Hermione gracelessly pushes herself up to sitting and stares unmoving at her fingers, coated in her own blood. “Oh fuck,” she murmurs, mimicking Ginny. “Did I cut myself?”

“Stop moving! You’re getting blood all over your dress!”

She frowns and looks down at the white cotton, twisted awkwardly around her hips and exposing the tops of her thighs, rubbed raw from her pavement landing, until she sees a bright red stain spreading along the material. Her mouth falls open in surprise and shock— how much could her head possibly be bleeding?!

Lifting her hand once more, she touches the throbbing spot on her temple, wincing as she looks at her fingertips, once again coated in fresh, slick blood. 

“Oh my god,” she mumbles, her breath coming fast. “Okay…okay…um, head wounds…head wounds bleed a lot! But i-it’s okay. It’s fine!”

Ginny groans, grabbing the hand she’s waving at her face and holding it still. “It’s not from your head, it’s from your arm! Now, stop moving, I’m— I’m going to call an ambulance.”

She frowns, peering down at her arm, finally seeing the jagged, torn skin along her forearm, profusely bleeding and dripping down onto the cotton of her dress. It’s…utterly disgusting. Her stomach clenches at the sight, her arm a mess of blood and bits of gravel, the skin torn. She’s too afraid to look too closely, to see what lies beneath— muscle, bone, sinew.

Her uninjured hand claps over her mouth and she looks away, taking in a deep breath through her nose and closing her eyes shut tight. If she looks at it any longer she’s absolutely going to be sick, right here, fallen down on the pavement next to her spilled iced coffee and a nice big jagged rock that seems to be the culprit for her predicament.

“Don’t call an ambulance,” she mutters, catching sight of Ginny pulling her phone from her pocket. “I, um, I’m okay. I’ll just…I can go on my own.”

Ginny glares at her. “Hermione, no. You’re bleeding literally everywhere and people are staring and no one is just going to ignore you walking down the pavement like this!” She whisper-shouts in a way that makes her feel like she’s being scolded.

“Do not call an ambulance,” she repeats, pushing herself to her knees. “I can walk— there’s nothing wrong with my legs.”

“Well there’s certainly something wrong with your head—”

“Ginny—”

“No! You need to go to A&E—”

Hermione groans, stopping her slow movements to stare up at her friend. “Ginny— listen to me. If you call an ambulance you know where they’re going to take me and I…I cannot go there. He’ll absolutely lose his shit over this.”

Ginny stops, mouth popping open with her hand propped on her hip. “Are you kidding me? Your boyfriend is a doctor, you’re injured, and you don’t want to see him?”

Blowing out a low breath, Hermione holds up her uninjured arm, making grabby hands at Ginny. Clasping her arm, she steadies herself and very carefully, very slowly, pushes herself up to standing. Once she’s relatively balanced on her feet, she cradles her injured arm to her chest. 

“You don’t get it, Gin. He’s so protective of me, he’s never going to let me out of his sight again.”

“Well, I don’t really blame him! You look like you’ve been shot!”

Hermione looks down at her dress and grimaces— she’s not wrong. There’s a deep red stain all over the skirt of her dress but also over the bodice, right across her chest where she cradles her arm. It’s odd, though— she doesn’t feel much pain from the gaping cut, not like she should.

Maybe that’s…not a good thing.

“Shit,” she mutters, eyes closing just as she staggers on her feet, swaying. “Shit.”

Ginny wraps her arm around her waist and huffs. “Fine, I won’t call the ambulance. But we’re going to the closest hospital and if you stumble once I will make the call.”

“But that’s—”

“Shut up, Hermione, and walk before someone thinks I shot you."