#disaster puppy at it’s finest

[beebopboom]

The Angel behind the Curtain

The Metatron. A character we don’t know a lot about in the show but has become public enemy number 1 - funny isn’t it.

I’ve been putting off doing this for a while because I wanted to dedicate proper time and research into this character - who he is, what he is doing, and how he is being used. That’s what I’ve been doing for the past week or so and boy is it long. So consider this an introduction post to a series - the main parts are still under construction and review.

But here is a shorter part that didn’t really fit anywhere cleanly and was kinda just a side tangent my brain went on - so now it’s its own part. I know some of it has been discussed before but have some new additions with a sneak peak into what is to come

and for that we are going back into the Title sequence - yes I know I talk about it way too much.

So Mr. Floating Head

Obviously this has been linked to the floating head of The Wizard of Oz before

But I want to dive in a little further now that we have more instances of this in season two

Now I’ll admit it’s been a while since I have revisited the story so there might be more parallels I missed but for now I just want to focus on the wizard - with some light parallels

We get the Metatron as a floating head up in heaven during the trial -which would have been before/during episode one - where he task the archangels with finding Gabriel - and he almost seems amused about it.

When Dorothy and the others first meet the Great Oz he will only grant their wishes upon the defeat of The Wicked Witch of the West. Once they return back after succeeding they demand the Great Oz to fulfill his promises but Toto knocks down the curtain to reveal that the Great Oz is just some man. He then uses “humbug” to grant their wishes - kinda. Dorothy though is meant to join him on a hot air balloon so they can both go home - which she misses because she was chasing Toto. But enough of that

After Gabriel is found - then fucks off - the Metatron arrives in the bookshop with most not recognizing him until he prompts Crowley to “reveal” him. He then sends the archangels away with a “wait and see” about if they had done anything wrong - kinda granting their wish with them not getting in trouble. He then goes on to offer the Supreme Archangel position to Aziraphale and says to join him in going up to Heaven.

The Metatron is admittedly a better wizard than Oz - he for the most part removes his own curtain and makes sure Aziraphale is coming with him.

But you said we were going into the title sequence and you have just rambled about some old story parallels? Okok I’m going

I've talked before (here) about how those rickety walkways represent Heaven's plans/timeline for their version of Armageddon- but for this we are going to focus on the one in the theatre

Curtains are drawn - screen is burned - the way to the Second Coming revealed

I'm comparing this moment to the Metatron finally appearing in a corporation in front of the angels and revealing his name - the curtain pulled back.

At the last second the film is burned - right before they enter the lift the Metatron finally drops the act a little and reveals the name, The Second Coming.

And now on to the sneak peak for one of the things I will be doing a deep dive into - The Book of Enoch

I know Neil has said the Metatron has always been an angel but can’t throw the whole book away when he himself pulls from it

When we go through the burnt screen we see these mountains of junk and it is revealed they are walking up one that has a throne room on top.

In Enoch 1 he is given an angel guided tour of the cosmos and sees seven glorious mountains - three to the east, three to the south, one that was taller than the rest and like the seat of a throne with trees encircling it, one of which is identified as the Tree of Life - which is said to be given back to humans after judgement

I’m sensing some parallels but for now that is it - tune in later for some more Enoch and diving into the occult

Part 2 is up!!

[aziraphales-ineffable-bookshop]

Sometimes it just hits me that Crowley has a Bentley that he emotionally bonded with, got James Bond decals because they looked cool, has plants he dramatically saunters around yelling at, wears sleeve garters in the twenty-first century, and tried to run over a hedgehog and missed.

This is just off the top of my head. And this is barring everything he's done during interactions with Aziraphale.

Disaster puppy at its finest.

[harrison-abbott]

At Fair Velocity Down the Street

They told me I was getting laid off. Or rather – I hadn’t passed the trial period and they weren’t keeping me on. Either way, there was no salary anymore.

 The woman who told me was this blonde fortysomething who spoke in this chirpy shrill way and she might’ve been announcing to me that she was just getting married or that she’d just gotten a new puppy for the family; or that she’d had cornflakes for breakfast that morning; or that she was watching the reality TV show last night and she was impressed by what happened with Mr Him and Miss She: it was delivered with such languid everyday glee.

 I thought about some machine gun exit but I couldn’t be doing that. Was too old. For that kind of childish revenge mentality. So I made sure to get my mug out of the cafeteria and then I left the office building and suddenly I was outside on the street with the trams and wind and voices blowing about the area all at once.

 My bus home was right there at the shelter. I ran for it. But just as I did its doors closed and then its entire hulk veered off down the road without me.

 I pondered whether to go and load up on beer at the supermarket next to the shelter but didn’t think this a perfect idea and so I decided to walk home through the city instead. What I did have in my pocket was the sandwich I’d taken in for work. Humous cucumber tomato & onion.

 The colleagues at work were always asking why I ate raw onions? How could I stand that? They took the mick out of me for being vegan (as did that blonde 40ish woman described above) a lot; alongside that other famous question of why I was vegan. Something which I’ve never understood or have taken to be politicised or offensive.

 Whilst I was walking I dipped down into the city cemetery and the volume of the world decreased and I called up my father to see whether he had a bit of wisdom about my predicament.

 “Hi Dad,” I said. I’d caught him in a bad mood already for when he spoke next.

 “Hello?”

 “How are you doing?”

 “Sound. You?”

 “I’m all fine. Well, all right …”

 “What are you calling for Dominic?”

 “I just wanted to speak. Is this not a good time?”

 “I can’t give you any money at the moment, Dominic. I don’t see why I should have to keep giving you money. Why do I have to do that? It’s not fair. Not fair at all: and whenever you call me it’s because you need something or because you’re in trouble. I didn’t expect to have such a calamitous son. Jesus. When I was your age I was already way ahead of you. And what do I get out of it? Sick of these phone calls from you telling me about your awful life. You just need to learn to deal with it.”

 I blinked and gulped and swallowed and listened to his heavy voice, and wondered whether I was still surprised by the things that came out of his tongue.

 “Dad … I wasn’t calling you for money,” I ventured.

 “You always call me for money.”

 “We spoke just last week about films. I called you after I left the cinema, didn’t I? And we spoke about movies. Don’t you remember?”

 “A one off.”

 “Why are you being so mean?”

 “What is it, son?”

 “Oh. Forget it.”

 “Well, you wake me up and you sound like you’re on some island of disaster and expect me to help you and then you won’t tell me what the issue is. What’s up?”

 “It’s no worries, Pop. See you another time.”

 I hung up whilst his voice still hammered the other side.

 Well, that was a complete fail of a telephone conversation. When you have a fight with a mum or a dad there is often this massive inclination to take what they say imperiously as if they command the finest wisdom on the plant and that their slights and dogma makes you small and defeated and this was just how I felt after the end of the phonecall and there was a tram coming to me at fair velocity down the street and I thought about running in front of it and letting it mash me up and turn me to goo right there in front of these hundreds of people.

 What would they say about me in the papers? There would ne no obituary-like content in the 50-word article in the local newspaper, or any obituary at all.

 So I thought I would procrastinate from suicide before they had fifty words decent enough to say about me.

 The tram passed by with its crimson blood colours and I crossed the street under the zappy electric wires and got to the other side and on that side there were a group of folks taking pictures of the famous castle which, indeed, perched so handsomely on the horizon; built eight hundred years back when threats of foreign invasion were so intense that they had to lock themselves into such a place and when the modern planet couldn’t be imagined by any great mind.

 Back in those days when they tortured people whom they suspected of witchcraft … and one hoped that the stories of said torture methods you heard about in museums or in film references or gothic books weren’t accurate or were fictionalised. You don’t get how you could even do that to another person. And even somebody eight centuries back must’ve known that there was no such entity as Satan or the Devil: at least not in any sense of imminent threat.

 I needed to pee.

 Under the castle there were the city street gardens and within the paths through the meadows public toilets. I went in search.

 A group of teens approached me on the path leading down to the park – eight of them and one of me – and a boy looked up and said some insult which I didn’t hear and then they all laughed and one of the other boys threw some sweets at my legs. Those mini gems (is that what you call them?) with the gelatine multicolour and some of them hit my shins and I wondered whether the pigeons nearby would be interested in them and eat them or if the birds didn’t go near that kind of ultra processed food or if indeed they ate them whether the mini gems would get stuck in their throats or cause cancer in their innards … wondered how long pigeons lived. What their life span was.

 I got to the public toilet. One of the male cubicles had an OUT OF ORDER sign outside of it and so it blocked up the admissions and there was a queue of men standing around in the sun.

 Three men. I stood at the back of the queue.

 The man in front of me turned wen I approached. And he ogled me as we both waited. Then he finally said,

 “Nice, day, huh?”

 “It is indeed.”

 “You look upset.”

 I shrugged.

 “Why are you upset?”

 “I’m not.”

 “Why you sweaty?”

 “It’s hot.”

 Somebody came out of the toilet. Looking furtive.

 This man in front of me gave me a bad vibe. And I still really needed to urinate but the desire wasn’t great enough to stay there in his vicinity and so I moved off from him. He hissed the word “arsehole” under his breath as I fled. I walked over the fields were the kids were playing soccer or eating picnics and/or yacking and bitching, drinking, smoking, destroying their internal organs in that finest sanguine blind period of youth.

 I dipped into the bushes that ran off from the main area next to the fences which looked on to the railway station. Into the nettles I pissed. Within the nettles there were discarded soda cans and an empty bottle of vodka and at one point a condom and for some reason a random playing card which was a Club of 8s.

 Out of bushes I went after zipping up and I ascended the hill to the main street again and walked past the art gallery and up through the little cafes with their yellows and pinks and as I went I wondered how un-pretty they were inside; because I’d worked in places like those before and what looks like bliss and prettiness on the outside of a homely little restaurant is not what it’s like inside; the minimum wage and sweat and heat and the miserable ratty colleagues and the animosity concocted within that environment.

 And the thought of working in a joint such as that again terrified me: it really did.

 Then there was the government building. With its various flags. And security personal armed with guns and daftly lurking outside the big doorways.

 I thought about running up to one of the men and stealing his gun off of him to see what would happen. How quickly it would take for them to shoot me down. That would certainly make the news. If it was about terror. Then no danger.

 Past the govt structure and along the street there was a corporate fast food joint. And outside it this beggar, begging for money. He had white hair. And was asleep.

 I tossed him the few coins that were in my pocket. He didn’t even wake up.

 I moved on.

 Away from the central street and up through the alleyways at the side. A band of seagulls were tearing at something inside an industrial bin (the bin bags being stacked too heavily inside and overshowing on the top of it). They raged and squawked and I was afraid to go near them. Gulls are wicked creatures. Almost as bad as people.

 I passed the museum with its great cream coloured walls.

 One time I went on a school trip to the museum and it was my first school trip when I was in P2 and so I would’ve been 6 years old and on the bus in to town I had a nosebleed. It was unprovoked and without physical impact: the nose just started bleeding. And when the classmates saw it they started screaming. The blood. It gave them this eruptive sense of glee. And the teacher came over to me. To hold my nose with her tissue. It wasn’t her tissue actually; she had a packet of them that smelled like perfume – and she was a very pretty lady with this long red curly hair.

 “Did somebody hit you?” she said.

 “No,” I responded.

 “Why did your nose bleed then? Did you bash it?”

 “No. I don’t know. Sorry.”

 “It will be fine.”

 And all of the other kids came over to me whilst we were in the atrium of the museum and asked me about the nosebleed. Then they lost interest when there was no fable. And went around looking in the murky aquarium and dinosaur quarters.

 My coat pockets were filled up with bloody tissues and I asked the assistant teacher if I could go to the toilet and I did need to pee (again) back then but when I sat on the toilet I was too anxious to let it out of my bladder and so I popped the tissues into the toilet and they splotched up in the water with their red marks and they all seemed dangerous and things which needed masked and so I flushed the toilet and when I went outside it felt like I’d done something guilty.

 Those were the only remaining moments of my childhood visit to the museum and it’s odd how memory works in belittled pencilled-in ways; as if there was no other content to the occasion or incident.

 But, so what?

 So what about any of my personal feelings, right?

 I walked on home and passed around a thousand folk on my sights throughout the journey and it was hard to know where I stood as an entity throughout the spectrum or whether I had any status at all and it was embarrassing to be unemployed and it was hard to feel normal in any way and I had no friends to call to try and speak to my problem like I’d tried to with Dad and I only had my brain going tick tock tick tock tick tock tock tock all the way with every step and yet I was still too stubborn to just get the bus home and on I walked instead of making things easier.

[kiwisfics]

WIPs List

Currently includes: Conner Kent, Devour, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Simon Amal, Terry McGinnis, Tristian Grey

Current Count: 50

Accidents - Jason Todd

Hurt/Comfort - Training comes with risks, especially when Jason is nearly three times reader’s size and angry. 

Accismus - Jason Todd

Fluff - Pre-relationship, both reader and Jason act disinterested in a relationship, but everyone knows they’re pining for each other.

Apricate - Tom Bronson

Fluff - Apricate: To bask in the sun. Aka: Tom’s feline habits are fairly obvious once you’re aware that he’s a werecat

Argument - Jason Todd

Hurt/Comfort - An argument between two people who learned to lash out in lieu of showing any weakness can be messy. 

Aubade - Jason Todd

Fluff - Jason wakes up to reader singing to a puppy that he doesn’t remember adopting. Gotham Knights verse.

Baby Bats - Tristian Grey

Fluff - A late night visit with some extra guests.

Bad Days - King Chimera

Hurt/Comfort - Bad days just happen sometimes, and reader can’t hide this one from him.

Black and Red - Jason Todd 

Fluff - Reader might have forgotten who those colors could represent when she bought that outfit.

Cafuné - Jason Todd

Hurt/Comfort - Jason’s hair is soft, save for the rough patch that hangs over his forehead.

Control - Jason Todd

Hurt/Comfort - Jason’s careful to never step over the invisible line that he’s drawn for himself, but the first time he trains with reader, he barks out an order, to which she immediately freezes up and takes a hit. Between letting him think that he messed up and admitting that she doesn’t mind him being a little domineering, she bites the bullet.

Cooking Disasters - Jason Todd

Fluff - Teaching reader to cook isn’t as cute as he thought it would be.

Crush - Devour

Fluff - Annoying Jason and making a move on your crush, multi-tasking at it's finest.

Embasan - Dick Grayson

Hurt/Comfort - After a mission goes off the rails and reader ends up drugged, Dick drops her into the bathtub fully clothed to wash the smell of the club out of her skin and hair.

Fake Dating - Dick Grayson

Fluff, Hurt/Comfort - Reader’s friends keep setting her up on blind dates, so she convinces Dick to play the part of her boyfriend to avoid any more awkward dates with men who end up having a 50/50 chance of being thugs.

Fangs - Vampire Jason Todd

Fluff, general vampire stuff - Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back. Aka, if Jason won’t bite reader when she asks, she’ll tempt him by accidentally cutting her finger on his fang.

First Kiss - Dick Grayson

Hurt/Comfort - Emotions run high after Nightwing rescues reader post-kidnapping.

Flinch - Jason Todd

Hurt/Comfort - Jason is convinced that reader’s scared of him after she flinches during an argument. Oddly enough, Bruce is the one that ends up telling him how ridiculous that is.

Fluff - Dick Grayson

Fluff - It’s literally just fluff. No other substance to it.

Goodnight Kiss - Dick Grayson

Fluff - Reader calls while Dick’s on patrol with a very domestic complaint.

Heights - Jason Todd 

Fluff - Jason pulls reader into his lap while he’s sat on the edge of a building, leading to her clinging to him for dear life.

Help - Dick Grayson

Hurt/Comfort - Following a failed mission, reader hides away in her room. When Nightwing comes to the door, she assumes she’s in for a lecture. Young Justice verse.

Impatience - Jason Todd

Fluff - He’s only got one more chapter, but reader has no more patience.

Ivy - Jason Todd

Fluff, Hurt/Comfort - Jason gets hit by Poison Ivy’s pheramones, leading to him being far more affectionate than normal while reader patches him up.

Jealousy - Dick Grayson

Hurt/Comfort - Reader disrupts a case when jealousy gets the best of her.

Laconic - Jason Todd

Fluff - “I love you” but spoken with other words.

League - Dick Grayson

Hurt/Comfort - Dick Grayson is probably the prettiest person reader has ever seen. Making a move on him is a leap of faith, but Dick has proven good at catching people that are falling.

Leather - Jason Todd 

Fluff - Jason swoops in to save reader from a mugger without his gear. It’s the first time she’s seen him in civies, so she stares more than she should.

Lesson - Dick Grayson

Fluff - Admiring Dick turns into a hands-on lesson.

Lockscreen - Jason Todd

Fluff - Jason catches a glimpse of reader’s lockscreen.

Marmoris - Jason Todd

Fluff - Jason thinks reader’s scared when a shark pops up only a few feet away, but ends up being reminded that he’s not the only visually intimidating creature she finds cute

Medic - Terry McGinnis 

Fluff, Hurt/Comfort - Reader sees something fall from the air and goes to investigate, resulting in her finding Batman injured and unconcious and proceding to drag him back to her apartment to clean him up. 

Monachopsis - Dick Grayson 

Hurt/Comfort - After joining Young Justice, reader can’t help but feel like she doesn’t fit in. Young Justice verse.

Mozzafiato - Dick Grayson

Fluff - Reader is terrified of heights, but she’s plastered to Dick’s side, feeling every breath he takes, and knows he’d never drop her, Gotham is a breathtaking view from the top of Wayne Tech.

Mudita - Dick Grayson

Fluff - A date to the local animal shelter is only topped by that date ending with a new pet.

Oddity - Jason Todd

Action, Hurt/Comfort - He’s a sight to be sure, bandages wrapped around his face hiding the burn scar that reader knows is there, and a baby pressed to his chest as he aims a gun between her eyes. Reader is a relatively new member of the Batfam, and despite never meeting him before this moment, she’s determined to bring him at the bright-eyed baby home. Death in the Family verse: Hush!Jason. 

Oodal - Jason Todd

Fluff - Bruce thinks there’s something wrong between reader and Jason; reader and Jason are oblivious. 

Qualities - Conner Kent

Fluff - In which Kryptonians have fangs. Basically, a testament to me loving any alien character having fangs. 

Rescue - Jason Todd

Hurt/Comfort - Reader runs into Red Hood while being tailed by men with obviously ill intentions. Gotham Knights verse.

Safe - Dick Grayson

Fluff - There’s something comforting about sleeping in his bed, whether he’s there or not.

Seatherny - Dick Grayson

Fluff - Waking up in Dick’s arms for once.

Shield - Jason Todd

Action, Hurt/Comfort - On a scale of misfortune, this would probably rank near the highest. Gotham’s most murderous vigilante is pointing a gun at reader’s skull while she’s used as a human shield. Death in the Family verse: Red Robin!Jason.

Sleeping Beauty - Jason Todd

Fluff - After Jason drags reader out of bed early in the morning to take her to a book-signing event, she falls asleep on his shoulder on the trainride home.

Smaragdine - Jason Todd

Fluff - Jason’s eyes glow sometimes because of the Lazarus Pit, but only ever for reader. 

Staying Quiet - Dick Grayson

Hurt/Comfort - Classic hiding from enemies in a closet setting, but it’s more daunting in practice than romantic.

Succiduous - Dick Grayson

Hurt/Comfort - A leap of faith.

Tail - Jason Todd 

Hurt/Comfort - Following a suspect to help in one of Jason’s missions turns sour when the man notices that reader has been watching him.

Trust - Jason Todd

Hurt/Comfort - Reader falls asleep against Jason’s arm and he proceeds to overthink the danger he poses to her.

Ummi - Dick Grayson

Fluff - Damian is a common visitor to Dick and reader’s apartment. Sometimes, words just happen to slip out.

Walk in the Rain - Simon Amal

Fluff - Sometimes dancing in the rain is a bit much.

Voracity - Jason Todd 

Fluff - Reader wants his attention and she wants it all. 

[hooman4ever]

ok sorry another one, also rough

just anything with maybe (kinda angsty I guess) a trans woman just not feeling very confidenglt or like a "real woman" (either just in general or maybe due to physical reasons)

ooor, more happy - maybe being gifted a dress, or make up, or just dressing up somehow, and being very happy with her slasher partner ^^ and being showered in compliments

- 🔪

Did a mixture of both ideas! Tysm also I loved these ideas sm <3

Also, I didn't do the mini scenario I usually do with headcanons since I am trying to get these ones done quickly!!!

Contains: Mentions of Dysphoria, Mentions of Murder, MTF Reader, Trans Reader, Fluff & Angst, Comfort, Bo Being a Ass but a Loving One

Michael Myers

As soon as you had come to Michael questioning yourself and your womanhood Michael would be awkward about it but he would be quick to do his best to reassure you that you were a valid and wonderful woman whom he cares deeply for.

When Michael sees you having bad days with your identity he would offer head pats and some physical comfort but let's be honest, this man isn’t big on emotions. His affection would be more in the way of gifts and small acts of kindness.

Michael would be out on a kill and see a dress or skirt that he thinks you would like and snatch it, only to leave the item sitting in front of your bedroom door for you when you leave your bedroom next. Also, expect some half-dead questionably sourced flowers to be left half haphazardly on the dining room table. Just ignore the roots still attached for Michael’s sake.

God forbid someone was responsible for your sudden dysphoria. If Michael even catches a whiff of someone misgendering or belittling you he’s going crazy dog mode right away. You wouldn’t even need to tell him who, Michael will find them.

Asa Emory

He will shut down any attempts to belittle yourself and your identity. As soon as you question yourself or start to feel invalid this man will be swooping in and grabbing hold of your shoulders. “Don’t say such things, my dear.” he would say before finishing with– “You’re the most beautiful woman in my life and I wouldn’t have it any other way.” all while rubbing your arms itching to simply pull you into a hug.

Asa doesn’t put up with any hate towards you whether it be from you or others. As soon as the words tranny, he/she, or not real woman are muttered Asa is losing his cool and cutting them down. This man is more than happy to also lock you away keeping you in his home to ensure no one hurts you with their invalid outdated opinions.

This man loves to shower you with the finest gifts, if you try to deny anything he will simply brush your words off saying “I will pamper my beautiful woman when I want to.”

He also loves doing your makeup if you let him but you’d need to teach him a thing or two if you don’t want it to be a disaster.

Bo Sinclair

I could see him getting angry if you try to belittle yourself, not at you of course but at the people who instilled “such idiotic thoughts in your head” according to him. Bo will be sweetly aggressive with his comfort saying things like “Last I checked I had a girlfriend, [Y/n].” and “Stop spewing that bullshit, you're my woman, and I ain’t toleratin’ it.” along with other things along those lines.

When you get super bad dysphoria it tears Bo up and this man will be the equivalent of a puppy dog staring from afar just wanting to make everything better but not knowing how. He will try his best though, dropping in random compliments and such throughout the days to try and make you happy. Before locking the both of you away in your shared bedroom and cuddling the pain away.

Bo would often snatch things off of tourists passing through town he thinks fancies you before not so slyly putting them in your wardrobe and acting like they were there since the beginning of time. Occasionally he would check out the luggage collected from the tourists but that's mainly when he feels bored or you ask him to.

If anyone coming through town even tries anything with you they’re being locked in the basement of the gas station for some personal lessons on respect from Bo.

Vincent Sinclair

He hates to see you down and as soon as Vincent sees any displeasure he will be strolling up to you and questioning you on what’s wrong just wanting to remedy whatever it is. When he learns you don’t feel like a real woman Vincent will be so confused before signing how “I don’t understand” and how “You’re my woman no matter what,”.

Vincent has no qualms with instantly cuddling you and giving you whatever you need till you feel better.

This man regularly rummages through the tourist luggage/bodies to find things you would like before presenting them to you like they were the best thing in the world, well almost, I mean you do exist after all, and nothing can trump how much Vincent values you. You will 100% be posing in everything Vincent gifts you as he whips out his sketchbook.

Vincent doesn’t like you being far from him ever so you will practically have this man with you at all times, or he’ll be hiding and watching you from afar if tourists are about. Due to this tourists who dare talk down to you will lastly see a raging Vincent charging them at full speed from the treeline.

Lester Sinclair

Lester is happy to have any good company in Ambrose, but when he gets you? The most beautiful woman he’s ever seen in a relationship with him this man is over the moon, absolutely head over heels in love. That’s why Lester is even more baffled than usual when you start down talking yourself.

This man will talk in a hushed voice, reaching out to you and soothing away your worries as soon as they come with an overload of kisses and words of affirmation. Lester will constantly gush about his “Pretty girl, and how he “Wouldn’t trade ya for any other woman,”

When you’re having bad days dealing with dysphoria Lester will stick by your side getting you anything you need and doing anything to comfort you. Even if Lester must resort to absolutely suffocating you in his affection this man will make you feel better all while making you feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.

Now Lester is one of the more tame Sinclair brothers, he really only chooses violence when needed. So let’s say you were accompanying him on his usual roadkill sweep when tourists are spotted that need a ride into Ambrose, as soon as any of them are uttering anything slightly transphobic Lester will do two things. First, he will slam on the breaks demanding they apologize, if they don’t he’s killing them. If they do apologize Lester is kicking them out of the vehicle and calling up Bo to get them, either way, same result.

Lester will also rummage to look for clothing for you. Since he is usually the one to pick up tourists and drop them off at Ambrose I like to think he has a big part in moving whatever vehicles/stuff they brought with them and had to leave behind. In other words that would mean that Lester would get first dibs on anything brought into Ambrose. This means you get your pick of clothes before Vincent can snatch stuff for his wax statues.

Instead of just bringing you just clothing though Lester will bring you anything that looks remotely interesting no matter what it is. One day this man will be bursting into your shared home clincking metal in his hands as he presents you with handfuls of shiny jewelry and odd-looking trinkets.

[faerienextdoor]

general relationship hcs with (some) pastas

Fair warning, I'm using and hinting at mine and my friends’ writing for these creeps :) enjoy  also as soon as i figure out how to open an ask box, I’ll be accepting requests

Brian:

- oh where to start with this absolute himbo

- he melts around you. like he's your bitch, and you're his.

- he's the type of boyfriend that takes you out in the snow and shoves a handful down the back of your jacket, and laughs until you shove snow in his face

- it is snow war

- it ends with you cuddling him, wrapped in a blanket and content in front of the burning fire he got started just for you <3

- but he also has some weird... habits.

- drinks pickle juice.

- gets his hand stuck in the jar.

- looks at you like 🥺 until you sigh and help him. for the fifteenth time.

- he can cook some basic breakfast foods, and happily breaks out a cookbook to prepare you something as a surprise or to learn something with you!!

- baking with him would be a mess. he forgets flour goes everywhere and now you both look like you took a bath in cocaine

- but the cupcakes are mediocre at best. they aren't absolute garbage, so... cupcake points!

- he worries about how hoodie treats you. he doesn't remember anything when he regains control, but you've reassured him hoodie is just fine.

- and he is

(hoodie)

- hoodie is like a rottweiler or a doberman.

- protective. intimidating. energetic.

- but also a giant fucking baby.

- this large ass man lumbers over and drops to his knees. places his chin on your lap and stares at you from the fabric of his mask until you stop what you're doing and stroke his head awkwardly

- you could swear he does those happy grumbled a rottie does.

- hoodie is silent but shows he loves you just as much as brian does. He strokes your hair silently, even places a kiss to the crown of your head as you sink into his beefy arms.

- he smells nice too. surprisingly.

- but that raises the question: if hoodie showers, does he shower with that damn thing on?

- you won't get an answer if you were to ask.

- brian introduces you to his grandma julia. and she dotes on you.

- the immortal old lady remarks that you’re the best s/o brian has brought to her yet.

Tim:

- a lumberjack man with biceps like a fucking tree trunk

- how'd you land him? give me your secrets (/j)

- he's such a love bug. a tired stressed love bug.

- he finds /every/ excuse to have physical contact with you. it's like a little touch from you reassures him that you're real. you're like a dream to him.

- he's the best for cuddles. He holds you to his chest

- and you get special access to his moobs

- and he gently strokes your head, traces shapes into your back, etc. it's a special intimate moment each time.

- my man's is italian-american but can't cook to save his fucken life

- he always gets your favorite microwave meals though!! he never forgets.

- not feeling good? dw baby he's making it for you <33 shitty low tier bean and cheese burrito coming up

- slowly he learns the basics and surprises you with lunch or even dinner if you're lucky!!

- he loves you so much. and wants you to feel it and know it. all the time.

(masky)

- god where to start with this bitch

- he's not jeff levels of bad ofc, but he's silent and... weird. creepy, some may say. he doesn't mean to be.

- and he's a hard ass. far more strict than tim.

- he follows you around like a giant fucken puppy and will spook you by grabbing you abruptly and holding you tightly

- you can't escape him. he really utilizes his physical strength

- he loves lifting you up and just... holding you. or carrying you off.

- protective and overbearing.

- but tim keeps him under control.

(angst)

- he wouldn't want to lose you like he lost his last wife.

- you find pictures of a woman laying around and a small girl that bears a striking resemblance to her and tim.

- tim goes quiet and questioned but eventually caves and tells you about his family

- or what he used to have

- his wife died and his daughter disappeared.

- it broke him and you're all he has left now

- constantly needs your affection in return to his own

- pls love him

jeff:

- why the fuck would you date him

- he's the absolute worst in so many aspects. But he genuinely tries for you.

- even if his gifts are shitty, it's nice to know he thoughts of you, right? even if it's a half dead flower or a rib torn from a deer caraccas.

- but you get the butt end of his shithead antics. ranch bath, specifically. he smelt like spoiled milk for a week after and you had to cuddle that fucker.

- and don't get me started on mayo bath

- but he still loves finding himself in your arms. or finding you in his. he's demanding affection wise, and will yank you into him for some cuddles. whether you like it or not.

- he isn't one for a lot of pet names, but calls you curse words or "sweetheart" in polish.

- and you get to see the side of him that only shows when he breaks down.

(bit of angst)

- he misses his family and the life he used to have. he'll reminisce what it was like in poland with his mom and family with you, and you sometimes swear you can see his brown eyes gloss over at the memory of her.

- he never talks about his dad, you've noticed.

- don't ask.

- he brushes off heavy conversations with some dumb quip ("wanna see my renegade?")

- he sucks at cooking. god awful at it. but he really tries for you. manages a bowl of oat meal that's edible.

- but he overloads it with sugar and for some reason, salt.

- he's confused. he thinks that's normal (it isn't)

- his idea of a date is napping with you. or rather, forcing you into nap time.

- I mean it when I say this man is strong in a weird fucken way. latches onto you with that iron grip and you won't be able to leave for at least a few hours.

jane:

- ethereal wlw woman.

- could break you with her heels. or a flutter of what eyelashes she has.

- you're lucky to have her, and she's just as lucky to have you!

- she's sweet and charming. very smooth and takes good care of you.

- her love language is a mix of physical touch and acts of service.

- she'll cuddle you all night, and then make you breakfast in the morning.

- she loves showering with you when she's comfy enough around you! it's super intimate and she washes your hair.

- massages the soap into your hair, suds spilling down your neck and back as her fingers scrub circles into your scalp.

- it's heaven on earth. such a domestic life.

- it'll take a while for her to settle enough in the relationship for you to see her without her mask

- you make her feel so loved and wanted

- secure, even.

- she's protective but not controlling or overbearing. shes that type of girlfriend that's just a worrywart and relaxes as soon as you're curled up in her arms. you fit there perfectly, too. like you belong there.

- which you do. at least in her mind

- she has such a gentle touch and hold on you. like she's afraid you'll combust in her arms if she holds you too tightly.

- she loves stroking your hair and having you nap

- using her tiddies as a pillow 👌

(angst)

- she needs affirmation from you when it comes to her scars.

- she thinks that jeff ruined her. permanently marking her once spotless body.

- and she thinks you'll hate her or find her disgusting.

- that's why she freezes if/when you gently slip off her mask.

- she stares at you with those teary green eyes. then leans in and kisses you

- you make all of her worries disappear.

- she's also financially comfortable, but not really rich (on that topic: eat the rich)

- she spoils you every chance she gets. gifts, a nice dinner date, you name it

- she almost spoils you as much as she does her cat Emory

- little shit has the sparkliest fucken collar and acts like he's the shit

- he's your fur baby too now

Helen:

- oh my god this disaster of an art boi

- he's convinced he's the luckiest man in the world (and he might as well be!!)

- he obviously wouldn't have been the one to confess. but it was really obvious by how he painted and drew you constantly, that some feeling for you was lodged into his beating heart.

- he treats you like the finest china. with the most care a man can manage.

- he's the definition of clingy and affectionate from the very start.

- he curls around your sleeping form perfectly when y'all cuddle.

- his hand dances in your hair, soothing you into a dreamless sleep each night without fail.

- he has a magic touch and a gentle voice.

- and he cherishes you so fucken much. (like a simp /j)

- he shies away from kisses at first, but will hold your hand and melts if you hold his face in them!!!

- he's greek, and often speaks sweet things to you in it. he's so comfortable around you that he speaks in his native language to you. that's an accomplishment.

- he loves when you baby him. helen loves being cradled and loved.

- taking a nap with his head on your chest also hits different. he's so in love with you

(angst)

- he's afraid of losing you. who wouldn't be? you're amazing and you love /him/ of all people

- he thinks very negatively of himself. please scold him for self deprecating.

- he always worries he'll wake up and you'll be gone.

- so he holds you extra close at night. and follows you around when you leave for any reason. Trails behind you like a lost puppy in need of a gentle kiss.

- which, is what he essentially is

- and also: pls steal his sweater and wear it. he'll cry over how cute you are.

[lilponder]

First post ever on here and first time posting my fanfics on somewhere other than Wattpad 🤔

Another typical boring day at Hawkins High. Basketballs finest Jason sends his love to Cousin Chrissy - which she accepts with a smile and sends a kiss in his direction. Ewww arghh.

I told her. Warned her. My Cousin needs to avoid this man like the plague. I can't stress this enough, I told her. That is before she ignored me and became another high school cliche. They've been together 2 months now. In the end, Chrissy and Jason became just that: a stupid high school cliche. Makes me sick. Jason rubs me the wrong way... there's just something about him that just - erghh!

Having moved here just before the mall disaster. I haven't had any socialisation with anyone really other than Chrissy and her puppy dog Jason and his baboons... and rather than be alone I sit with them... at lunch... begrudgingly.

At this point I'd rather be alone. It's near summer break and I've watched everyone enough now to know where I'd rather be sitting... observed would be a better word? I've accustomed myself with the cliques enough now to know where I'd rather sit. And if I couldn't work up the nerve to sit there by graduation it's going to be a lonely semester because I am done this man. I'd rather sit at the library than here, but if I did manage to find the balls to talk to 'them' or rather 'him' I would... in a heartbeat. The D&D club. Hellfire well that's what their shirts say which they wear proudly. They often stick together because if not they get picked on. But the pride they have in their club they wear like a shield. That is hard to find for that kinda pride they need a strong leader... Eddie. Anyway... I'd sit at their table.

Eddie. Edward I assume Munson... it's funny to think of calling him that considering his character. He's erratic and random. A metal head and a Teddy bear wrapped up in one. Lovable, He's the school 'freak' according to Jason. But to me and others closest to him they see him as magnetic and charismatic. He's doesn't care who's watching, he's free. All eyes are on him even when he isn't drawing any attention to himself. When he puts on a show it's usually at lunch on the table, whether the eyes that watch him like what they see or they don't, he really doesn't care.

I admit it. Okay. The guy is hot. For lack of a better word. And I'd rather be wherever he is as long as I could know him personally... if he even took the notice of me before now. Anyway... Chrissy warned me about Jason's obsession with Eddie. And my interactions have been next to nothing with him but Jason warns me himself to stay away from him regularly.

Admittedly he and I have met eyes a couple of times... possibly he was only glancing in my direction, I could be imaging it. I hope that maybe he was looking at me first...? But eh who knows. And yes I've sat near him a couple of times, he sits at the back usually. Rocking back in his chair - arranging his jacket just right. Trying to listen intently at times until he gives up and looks out the window or at others around him. It's like he knows the bell is going to ring because he's already up and walking towards the door before anyone has even reacted. The boy is done with school.

One time I glanced onto his desk in biology to see his handy work he had scored into the desk. '86 baby' 'E.M' hmm. I gathered my things and headed to lunch puzzled. That was a week ago now and I still haven't found the courage to talk to him or even ask him the significance of this year.... other than we'd both be graduating? Could that be it?

Sitting at the usual table at my usual at my usual seat. Jason's table yet again. And I smile in acknowledgment to a couple guys and girls who look up to see who it was joining them. I've never really said a word to them but acknowledgment is enough for us both. Suddenly all eyes are elsewhere...

Eddie from the side of my eye jumps up"-But as long as you're into band, science or parties... or a game where you toss balls into laundry baskets!" Eddie is standing on top of his clubs table yet again... basically preforming for his groups entertainment. I have to laugh.

This was no new thing... he goes on and on, his boys laughing and encouraging him which spurs him on. "That's what's killing the kids!" He shouts as he steps back down, scaring some girls from Chemistry. Poor girl. Her reaction was hilarious. I laugh to myself, me and Eddie meet eyes before Jason joins the table. Uh oh...

"Need something freak?" Jason starts. Eddie is getting to him yet again. Eddie doesn't even need to try to piss Jason off. Eddie pulls a face in alikeness to a devil. Pissing Jason off further. That's a skill I've learned to appreciate 100% of Eddie's, I try to stiffle my laughter before Jason catches me... too late. Eddie notices too and smirks at me. My reaction egging him on further and he would have continued his foolery if it wasn't for Jason demanding my attention. Time to get berated for encouraging the 'freak', for giving him the 'attention he craves'.

Honestly this man is a walking Red flag, how can Chrissy not see this? Why does she 'encourage' this nevermind me 'encouraging' Eddie - Eddie seems harmless. Watching him now he's returned to his table and all the boys are laughing and are looking at him adoringly they always seem to have the most fun than the rest of the tables - these are my people. Wait I've just realised I'm wearing the same look as the rest of his club. This man's energy was catching. Magnetic. I join in their laughter yet again when Eddie imitates Jason's dumbass of face when Eddie had pulled his face of a devil. This was the last straw for Jason. Cue a lecture from the jock.

"Honestly Y/N get that look off your face," He said getting in my face slowly getting louder. Eddie looks up concerned. "You can't hang here even if you're with Chrissy. Looking at him and his freaks like that? Listen to me Y/N I het you're still relatively new here..." I now purposely ignore this cunt now - who is he to tell me who I can interact with. I turn away from Eddie and face my food. I'm nearly done with this fucker. As well as my food. "Are you listening to me? Y/N?" Chrissy has just sat down beside me. "Chrissy slap the fuck outta her. Look at her, she's lapping the freaks shit up. What  a freak!" Chrissy looks flustered and confused, conflicted. Fuck this.

"Don't worry Chrissy, I think I'll sit elsewhere. Good luck with him, you'll need it. The only freak in this school is you Jason. You irratible twat." I don't look back. I walk passed all the tables on my way to the locker. I feel eyes on me as I go. Good riddance.

At the lockers I empty my bag of my workbooks that I don't need for the rest of the day. Lighter the bag the better. Have to make a mental note to remember them once I'm done to get them... I always forget.

I feel fiery anger bubble to the surface in the form of tears and embarrassment. What is this... I'm normally stronger than this. Trying so hard to compose myself before anyone saw me I turn away into my locker. I now realise why don't like Jason. He reminds me of my abusive father.

"Hey err Y/N? That's your name right? My names Dustin. Dustin Henderson... are you okay?" I wipe my eyes and I turn around to the boy behind me. Noticing he's a part of the Hellfire club.

"Err yeah I am. I'm okay. Just won't be returning to that table and making a fool of myself by being there. That Jason is an ass. What's up?" Looking into this boys eye's I have an overwhelming need to protect this boy from the world.

"We can help you with that! Eddie says so. Sit with us from now on! Aaandddd I have an opportunity for you AND its a solution to me so it's a win win for us BOTH!" This boy is overjoyed and sweet. He proceeds to tell me he's short two places tonight for the groups final game. 'The cult of Vecna'. Eddie's last game with the boys before they picked a new Dungeon master. Dustin and Eddie saw it as an opportunity to get 'new blood' into the club.

D&D....? I haven't played that in ages. Not since dad's drinking and whoring around. You start to lose patience playing a game with friends that requires that much effort and concentration when your dad threatens you're friends and passes out in the middle of the game and you think he's swallowed his tongue... an ambulance later he comes round to beat the shit outta you. That's why he moved us to Hawkin. People talk you see...

I accept Dustin's offer or rather Eddie's. One last year at high-school, I've got to make friends somehow. I'm overjoyed to be heading to class now. Tonight we play D&D!

Last class of the day and I see Eddie hiding at the door, catching my attention. He gestures for me to follow. I get up and make my way towards the teacher to excuse myself; he doesn't even look up to excuse me. Teacher in this school are oblivious.

He walks with me towards the lockers, I think for lack of anything better to go - he's definitely making it up as he goes along. He looks nervous, I can't help but smile as I'm walking with him, he was bounding down the hallway hair bouncing as he went. I giggle to myself because despite his exterior look he was just a goofy puppy dog. We say nothing until we reach his locker.

He's deep in thought for a moment before he turns to face me. "I hope this doesn't strike you as weird... but anyway I sent Dustin to speak to you about inviting you tonight but he didn't come back to the table to let me know your answer..." he trailed off looking for confirmation. He was smiley, I find myself starring a little too hard into his eyes and at his lips. He continued despite noticing I was doing this. I nod to let him know Dustin had told me.

"Most likely probably heading off to find a second stand in?" That's what dustin said to me...

"Yeah erm apparently Lucas has a basketball game that's more important that the finale of a game I've been working on all of the semester and Mike cancelled last minute today too. His mum called the office to let him know she expects him straight home tonight as he's got an early flight tomorrow to california to go see his honey and she's arranged some last meal for the family... kids... am I right? Anyway are you up for it? Free club t shirt?" Pulls the same face he always does that makes me bright red in the face. Me blush? Who am I?

He goes on to continue. "In truth and please don't take this the wrong way. But I was surprised with you sat with that maniac Jason. You didn't look like you wanted to fit in there. You don't look the part..." I couldn’t help but notice that he wanted this conversation to go well.

He was closer now and looking intently into my eyes. I felt myself melt. He wasn't just looking at my eyes but my lips also? Who was closing the distance between us it was hard to tell... "sorry you just looked very unhappy there..." I laughed at him then he smiled relieved I hadn't taken his words the wrong way. "I can't blame you that's what I mean. Basically what I'm saying is, sit with us from now on. We don't fit in. We don't want to and we own that, proudly. I mean you aren't a freak but come and join the freaks..." I smile at him then, an invitation by the leader... the main freak? Maybe I"ll show him how much of a freak I really am.

(🤣 my gal's hungry for a y/n and Eddie sandwich)

"No you're doing fine and yes I'm coming" I wet.my lips before continuing. "I'm honestly going to take you up on your offer. Jason is a prick anyways. He is always picking on you and the others - I've noticed it's been getting worse a lot more recently. He's been saying you're running a cult which is hilarious to think. Dungeons and Dragons is hardly a cult but telling him that it just falls on a deaf ear."

He widens his eyes at this... "You play D&D?" He says shocked.

"Well yeah I used to, seems like forever ago now but where I used to live we had a table just like yours. It was either d&d, weed or art we did together but we weren't torn to shit for liking it like you are here... God our stoner sessions went on for hours... high thoughts that you thought about for days later... really made you question reality sometimes" I laugh.

His face instantly lights up at the word weed. He opens his locker all business like. "What can I do you for little lady?" His locker is full of the green stuff in little baggies. I laugh incredulously, one word. Heaven. This locker is a little piece of heaven on this hell of an earth.

He likes this reaction, "hmm let me see... here's an idea. How about a tester session with me, see if you like my merch? A little bit of everything green alongside my company after the D&D game? For free as long as I hear these esteemed thoughts of yours" He smiles brightly - this man's smile is catching with his big brown eyes. I don't know what it is but his eyes do things to me I never knew were possible. I feel myself melt. Fuck. I've fallen for this boy already. Shit. I nod an enthusiastic yes... how can I say no?

He closes his locker as someone passes us. "Great, I'll see you later. Prepare yourself Y/N for the ultimate and brutal 'Cult of Vecna'." He walks away backwards arms out infront of him like a zombie... Edward you are something else I think to myself. Instead of heading to class I head home instead after picking up my books from my locker from earlier. This 'boring' day just got a load better.

There's so much more parts but this is a tester to see if it's worthwhile continuing 🧐

[trexdrabbles]

For the couple thing, Loba and Hound?

Who's the one to initiate the relationship?

Loba to be sure. Hound would be too nervous about something terrible happening to her to want to try and drag her into the mess that is their luck with relationships. They do love her though; have for a long time, and when she insists on a quiet little date night for the two of them, well, they’re just too weak to turn down a beautiful woman like her.

What are their love-languages?

Spending time together and gift giving for both of them! Loba loves to spoil her puppy with beautiful, intricate (but useful) knives and expensive materials for their projects. The finest, sturdiest fabrics and threads for tapestries, rare woods to make their carvings shine even more than they already do, and the like. Hound loves creating things for her in turn. Pretty little trinkets or jewelry to accentuate her beauty. Both of their favorite things that they’ve gifted her is a light cape that almost entirely blocks the snow and wind chill, trimmed about the neck with gorgeous mahogany colored fur from one of their hunts for when she accompanies them to their village.

How open about it are they?

Probably not very. Hound is absolutely a skilled warrior, but Loba still worries about Revenant. Bloodhound meanwhile still feels like speaking it into existence by going public would just be the catalyst for disaster for her so they prefer to keep quiet on the matter.

Who's the better chef?

Absolutely Hound! They’ve grown up cooking under their uncle’s guidance and for themselves ever since they could remember. They’ve picked up many delicious recipes throughout all of their travels as well and it’s relaxing to them to cook; and they especially love to cook for others. It’s a perfect combo.

Who likes to be little spoon?

They both do! Hound just likes being close to her and being held, so they’ll take it whenever they can. Loba likes it when she’s having troubles falling asleep for one reason or the other and Hound is just as happy to hold her too. 

Who flirts more?

Loba, of course! There’s just nothing that compares to watching the mighty, god-sent hunter’s face flush red as she lays sweet words upon them until they’re flustered and embarrassed. 

Who's more protective?

Hound by miiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiles. Of course they know that she’s more than capable of taking care of herself, she has for years after all; and as far as Revenant is concerned their the one in the most danger, but they’ve faced many beasts more haunting than he. Misfortune just seems to befall everyone they deeply care for though and they’re determined to do absolutely everything in their power to keep that from happening.

[flying-nightwing]

Night Adventures in an Unlikely Maze of Blue and Yellow

Hiiiii guys. This is for @batwngs, the MVP of leaving the best comments ever and being generally an amazing person. I still have trouble closing my imagines so nevermind the underwhelming ending. Anyway enjoy the probably sweetest thing I’ve ever written, it’s really really really freakin’ cute.

Masterlist in bio // pinned

Pairing: Dick Grayson x reader

Word count: 3174

Warnings: none beside mentions of doing the do and one (1) innuendo

Summary: While most people would qualify married life as boring, having Dick Grayson for a husband turns the most mudane task into an adventure. This is the story of one shopping trip turned into a teenage dream (Katy Perry can suck it up)

You were making breakfast when you heard it. 

The sound of the coffee brewing and the sizzling pan were singing the beginning of a new day, harmonizing with your soft humming of a song you had heard on the radio the day before. The sun basked the whole kitchen in golden sun and warmed your back through your fluffy robe, so much you never wanted to leave this spot. You closed your eyes, taking in the peace you had long seeked. But then, it was interrupted by a loud crash and a high pitched scream.

You perked up, turning down the stovetops and rushing to the bathroom. Luckily, your husband never kept the door locked. In fact, it was wide open when you came in. You reached the shower handle and pulled it open with all the concern in the world, only to see Dick with a pout on his pretty face.

“Dick” You frowned. “Is everything okay?”

“This is the worst thing that happened to me” He almost sobbed. Your concern spiked.

“What happened?” You asked. “Are you hurt?”

“My toes...” His pout intensified as he pointed behind him. “The rack broke and all the bottles fell on my feet”

The sudden stress and concern fell, only to be replaced by your incredulous expression. You shouldn’t have been surprised by his blown out of proportion reaction, but again, Dick was probably the most dramatic person you knew. Punch him, shoot him, beat him up to an inch of his life, the guy will shake it off and get back on his feet. Minorly inconvenience him? You’ll never hear the end of it.

“You big baby” You rolled your eyes. “You’ll be fine”

“You won’t join me and make it better?” He now gave you his puppy eyes, opening his arms. You had to admit, it was hard not to cave in and go hug the giant toddler. “I’m hurt”

“You’ll get over it” You tried to say sternly, but a small smile still made it past you. “I’m going to finish breakfast now”

“Don’t forget--”

“Your cereals yes I know”

“You’re the best” He yelled after you as you closed the shower door. “I love you!”

“I love you too!”

You went back to the kitchen and turned on the stove tops again, taking care of the hashbrowns and bacon awaiting for your return in their pans. While they cooked, you cut oranges and melons, poured Dick’s favourite cereals in a bowl and put a cup of oat milk right beside. You started the eggs when you heard Dick come out of the bathroom, and managed to have everything ready on the table seconds before he came walking in in his own matching robe, his hair all damp and face shaved. 

“Smells amazing in here” He announced loudly.

You walked to him and kissed him on the cheek. He smelled of aftershave and jasmine shower gel. “Just in time”

Dick paused in his steps and stared at the full table with childish wonder. Then, his beautiful, almost sparkling eyes found yours. “What did I do to deserve you? And most importantly what would I do without you?”

“You were very handsome and convincing” You answered the first question with a sly smirk. “And probably dead in a ditch”

He looked like he wanted to argue, but closed his mouth when nothing came out. “Probably dead in a ditch, yeah” He admitted, before his gorgeous smile graced his features again. “Thank you for breakfast babe”

“You’re very welcome” You gladly accepted the quick peck on your lips, and laughed as he hurried to the table. You followed him and sat in front of him, watching as he piled food on his plate, unimpressed. You had been caught short handed when you first started dating, foolishly making food for two people like the boy didn’t eat enough to match a small village. But now you knew the trick and would never make that mistake again; you had to cook for a family of four. It was of utter most importance at breakfast, because he always woke up hungry. You didn’t mind though, because nobody appreciated your food more than him. You’d always get a ‘thank you’ before and after each meal, and he’d usually drop positive comments while he ate as well. 

Cooking for Dick Grayson was gratifying, to say the least.

“What?” He asked right after he shoved a spoonful of cereals on his mouth. “Why you shtaring?”

“Don’t worry about it” Your smile widened as you shook your head.

“It makes me shelf conschious” 

“Aw baby” You let out a small laugh. “Don’t be. You’re cute when you eat cereals”

He smiled wide, chewed cereal and milk pouring out of his mouth and onto his chin. You averted your eyes from the disaster and sighed.

“I walked into that one” You mumbled, looking up at the ceiling. “Should have known. That’s on me”

“Sorry” He half heartedly apologized, the laughter in his voice evident. “You can look again now, I swallowed”

You slowly trailed your glance on him, sending him a silent warning not to add a sexual joke to it. He visibly wanted to, but instead chose the prudent way and held his hands in defense of his innocence. You nodded slightly in satisfaction and served yourself breakfast, or what was remaining of each plate. You had enough however, since Dick knew exactly how much you needed and took care of leaving your preferred quantity. How thoughtful of him. 

“So, I guess we’ll need to go to Ikea to replace that shower rack” You spoke up once you knew his hunger rush had calmed down. “We can go this afternoon if you’ve got nothing to do”

“Oooh, I wanted to buy candles for the living room” He nodded. “Heard they got new ones. Yeah, we can go this afternoon”

“Cool” You nodded, taking a sip of your coffee. “There’s always less people near closing anyway, so that way we’ll avoid the crowds”

“Brilliant” He pointed, nodding along. “I hate when they’re all gathered around the Rättviken and you can’t even see your Pilkån”

You laughed at his exaggerated mannerism and his pretentious eye roll over his botched swedish accent, then finished your breakfast in comfortable silence. Whoever tried to scare you about married life when you were younger was clearly missing on something amazing, or was dead wrong, because you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

---

Some might say going to Ikea in disguise might be a little excessive.

But you and Dick knew better. The number of times you were accosted by either journalists raising to the opportunity to grab a quick interview taped on their phones or nosy citizens looking for a peek of Gotham’s finest son to show off on their instagram feed was enough for you to take measures to ensure your privacy. You didn’t exactly mind, in fact, you thought it was kind of funny. However, sometimes you wanted to be left alone to your candle and shower rack shopping.

Today was one of these days. 

Hence, the baseball caps and sunglasses that would follow you even inside away from the sun rays, and away from unwanted attention. Dick suggested he wore his fake mustache, but you deemed it unnecessary for this not so delicate operation. Arms linked together, you entered the swedish domestic heaven and began snooping around the showrooms, pointing out what you liked better and styles you would definitely consider if your house hadn’t been entirely redecorated when you bought it some years ago. 

“We should buy an apartment just so we can recreate those rooms” You said as you paused in front of a beautiful study. “That would be fun”

“How about we just buy the show rooms so we can go whenever we want?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, good point” You grinned, then let it fall. “If only we had more than negative ten dollars in between us both”

“But then,” He began, glancing at you. “The same problem arises for the apartment option. We’d still be broke”

You blinked a few times, then sighed. “Then we’ve got no choice” You stared at him through his sunglasses. “We gotta steal the showrooms and make a run for it”

You held for two more seconds before you couldn’t contain your laughter anymore. The few people in the store looked at you like you were crazy, but you cared very little for them and their opinions. The facts were you had fun and they didn’t. You moved along to the bedrooms, where the big fluffy beds just called your name. Like your minds were connected, you and Dick both launched yourself on the king sized mattress in the orange tinted room. You bounced like you weighed a feather, then sank into the memory foam that would guarantee a good night of sleep to anyone bringing the mattress home.

“I’m comfy here” Dick scooted closer to you, reaching for your waist to cuddle and burying his face in your neck. “Don’t wanna leave” 

“Babe” You giggled, half heartedly pushing him away from you. You knew it was impossible to move him if he didn’t want to be moved. “We’re gonna get kicked out of the store if we get caught cuddling”

A mischievous glint flashed in his eyes, and before you could strategize to stop whatever plan he acted in his mind, he somehow pulled you from the middle of the bed and used his vigilante stealth to carry you inside a closet, shutting the door behind him. Your face was flushed at the sudden rolling and spinning, and he only had a shit eating grin you could see all too well even in the dark. 

“What the hell?” You whisper-screamed. “We could have been seen!”

“Nope” He seemed so proud of himself. “Made sure of it”

“Cameras?”

“Blind spot” He replied. “I checked everything. I’m a pro, babe”

You kept glaring at him with narrowed eyes. “I hate you”

“Uh huh” He gave you a small, unconvinced nod, knowing all too well it wasn’t even close to be true. “That’s why you stormed off the closet the second after I brought you here… Oh wait”

“Smart ass” You lightly slapped his chest, a small smile creeping on your lips. You kind of enjoyed the thrill of hiding out somewhere anybody could burst in at any moment, and you definitely didn’t dislike the proximity to your husband. Even if you were married, his close presence still made your heart do backflips. 

“Your smart ass” He corrected, giving you once again his puppy eyes. Well, you couldn’t actually see his eyes, but the tilt of his head and the slight jut of his lower lip all pointed to his famous facial expression that got him virtually anything. And you were far from immune to it. So naturally, you leaned in for a kiss, knowing it was what he was begging for this time. 

And just like that, you were making out like two teenagers in the janitor closet. 

It was messy, teeth clashed and giggles interrupted the motions more than not. Dick bumped his head at least twice on the bar above him and you almost fell down on your ass if it hadn’t been from Dick holding you. Hands got grabby and before you knew it, the temptation to make articles of clothing fly like fireworks brought you back to reality. You reluctantly broke the kiss, still giggling as he definitely didn’t want to leave your lips just yet. He whined when he realized you weren’t coming back. 

“Hey, hold on cowboy” You chuckled, holding his shoulder. “If we keep going on like that, we’ll end up making a baby inside this closet”

The playful expression came back, along with a dash of flirting. His hand caressed your arm. “Would it be so bad?”

“Yes” You deadpanned. “Because you would name the baby like, Songesand or something”

He gasped. “I would never name my child after Ikea furniture”

You raised an eyebrow. “We’re not naming our baby Björn either”

He paused, caught in the headlights. You knew him so well he was becoming predictable. “But then how will people know he was conceived in swedish furniture?”

“You dork” You poked his chest, making the grin return on his face. “Obviously we let people know by having an ABBA reference in his middle name”

He laughed loudly, but you didn’t care whether or not you got caught. You were having too much fun. “Please marry me now”

“Sorry, already taken” You tsked, showing your ring. The one he put on your finger on your wedding day. “But he’s a cool guy, maybe I could talk to him about us seeing each other”

“Nah, he’s a jerk” He brushed off. “I’d rather have you all to myself”

He was about to kiss you again when you heard the lights going off. It was already dark in the closet, but there was no doubt, the main lights had been shut down. Your eyes widened as you stared at each other for a moment in surprise, until Dick grabbed his phone in his back pocket and checked the time. He turned the phone to you, letting you read the clock screaming 17:45 at you. 

“Uh oh” You bit your lip. Fifteen minutes after closing. “They’re closing already? Shouldn’t they do a check up before?”

He shrugged. “Maybe the employees got some places to be?”

“Who’s got places to be on a Tuesday night?”

“Nightwing?” 

“So the employees are all vigilantes?”

“Maybe, we can’t know for sure”

“Sure, okay. So we’re locked in?”

“Yup”

You took off your cap and sunglasses. “Guess we won’t need these anymore”

“Come on” He said as he also took off his semi disguise. “Don’t tell me you’ve never thought about getting locked in an Ikea for the night?”

“I have actually” You pointed out. “It’s both my dream and my nightmare depending on who I’m there with”

“And I’m..?”

“Oh definitely nightmare” You replied in a serious tone, and his eyebrows raised. “Just kidding, being locked in here with you was on my bucket list”

“Attagirl!” He laughed, pushing open the closet like he realized you didn’t need to be hiding in there anymore. The store now had an eerie feeling, something on the other side of the vibe spectrum than it would usually be. It felt like you had crossed in another dimension narnia style. “This is gonna be fun”

“Where do we start?” You asked, stretching your legs. You had gotten a cramp from being all folded up in the closet. “Bathrooms? Living rooms?”

“Guards’ round” The mischief in his eyes returned, and just like that you were remembered you also would have to evade a guard. “We find out where he starts, how fast he makes his round, where he’s looking more carefully. Then we begin the cat and mouse game”

“Sounds like a plan” You nodded, then watched him perk up at something above your shoulder. 

He put a finger against his lips and stared down the hallway until you heard the shuffling of keys. How he managed to hear it long before you did would forever remain a mystery to you. In a blink, he wrapped his arms around your waist and spun around behind the very wardrobe you were hiding in minutes ago. You put a hand against your mouth to hold back the giggle that threatened to reveal your presence, and it didn’t help that you could feel Dick’s grin on the skin of your neck. He only turned you around in his arms when he was sure the guard was far enough.

“All clear” He confirmed, a boyish expression gracing his features. Yup, you definitely felt like a teenager sneaking around where you shouldn’t. The thrill was a refreshing spin to your routine. “Where to?”

“Hmm” You hummed, tilting your head. “Cap on the living rooms?”

Without warning, he grabbed your hand and took off running in the opposite direction from the security guard and toward the beginning of the Ikea maze. You almost let out a squeal of surprise, but managed to keep it down for the sake of your stealth operation. He only slowed down once you reached the area, letting go of your hand to jump on a couch. He threw his arm over his head and adopted a dramatic pause.

“My love, thee life shall be intertwined withet mine for the ends of times”

“Oh my dearest Eleanor” You joined in, adopting a much lower tone to match his higher one. You kneeled in front of him. “I taketh the oath to love you forever”

“Even if my corset is not made of real lace?”

You gasped. “How could you lieth to me such way?”

Dick was about to reply something even stupider when you were interrupted.

“Who’s there?”

“Oh shit” You hissed, grabbing Dick’s wrist and sprinting away. You were just getting to the good part of your goofing. 

“The English, they’re invading!” He yelled loud enough to be sure the guard chasing you heard. “Ring the bell, wake the men, hide the tea!” 

“Hey come back!” The guard, well, a different one, chased after you. You didn’t plan on having two of them making rounds. “You can’t be here!”

“You’ll never take us alive!” You added before you took a shortcut through the living room appliances to try and gain ground, then glanced at Dick. “If you have any vigilante disappearance act, now would be the time honey”

“I’m trying to spot an exit point--oh there” 

You were yanked through an employees only zone, from where you easily found the door for the outside smoking zone. You could hear the security guard behind, but you were too fast. You came to a halt in front of the fence, hesitating. You were able to more or less follow Dick at a running pace, but you were in no way an acrobat or parkour expert. Dick, knowing this, didn’t waste time grabbing your waist and lifting you above it and jumping suit. You then ran straight back to Dick’s car and drove quickly out of the parking lot towards your home.

“Oh my god” You laughed in disbelief. “This is the craziest thing I’ve ever done”

He laughed heartily. “You’ve always wanted to see what patrol was like as Nightwing, this is as close as it gets without doing the real thing”

“I mean, beside the role play probably”

“Hmm no, it happens more often than you would think” He nodded. You kept staring at him for a moment, but he was serious. Well, after a small reflexion, and knowing his family, the surprise kind of fell apart. It made sense. 

“We should do this every week” You declared. “It was fun!”

“Told ya it would” He winked. 

“With all of this though,” You began, suddenly thoughtful. “We did forget the shower rack”

“And the candles!” He gasped. “Not the candles!”

[marvelmymarvel]

Queen of Disaster

Tomura Shigaraki x Reader

Synopsis: He was so rough around the edges to everyone else, but when it came to you, he was nothing but a softie. 

Song: Queen of Disaster by Lana Del Rey (Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hCeZsWHg7vo) Lyrics in italics and bold

A/n: I heard this song and INSTANTLY thought of Shiggy... We all really just Shiggy lovers ain't we? This is soft, I am soft, be soft with me.

What you do to me is indescribable, Got me sparkling just like an emerald. Set my soul on fire, make me wild, Like the deep blue sea.

Your head was propped lazily on your hand as you watched him play his video game that he was currently losing. Taking in his face, a weird sort of calm washed over as his cracked lips twitched in anger. He was always so angry, especially around the other league members... But you knew better.

“Why are you staring at me?”

His voice was quiet but his eyes stayed train to the game as he maneuvered through the house, finally getting a couple of kill shots. “Can I not look at you?” you asked gently, scooting closer to the man who was only delicate for you. He grumbled something under his breath in reply, yet didn’t complain as he continued to furiously move his fingers along the game controller. 

“You know Tomu” you started back up, moving across the couch to get closer to him. He growled at the movement, worried it would mess up his focus as you always managed to do. Grabbing onto his arm, you leaned your head against it and looked up at him with loving eyes. 

No other boy ever made me feel beautiful, When I'm in your arms, feels like I have it all, Is it your tattoos or golden grill, That makes me feel this way?

“No other boy ever made me feel beautiful”

Your soft voice caused a small smile to form on his lips, trying hard to hide the deeper smirk that wanted to surface. However, you saw the small smile and your heart instantly lurched in response. “God DAMNIT” His sharp scream made you jump a bit, so far deep into your own love to remember that he was playing Call of Duty and had just lost for the fifth time in the past hour. 

“You scared me”

He sighed, knowing fully how much you hated when he screamed. Turning his head, he pressed a kiss to your forehead that still rested on his shoulder before starting up the game once more. It was fun for a bit, watching him play and curse under his breath, but after another 10 minutes of it, you were bored. “Tommuuu”

“Y/n. I’m busy”

Got me spinning like a ballerina, Feeling gangsta every time I see ya, You're the king and, baby, I'm the queen of Disaster, disaster.

The overdramatic sigh that flew from your lips almost had him risking it all as he looked down at your pretty face now resting on his thigh. Your eyes were closed, comfortable now that you were laying on his lap. He paused his movements and took his time while looking at you. Your e/c eyes opened, looking at him blankly yet still passionately. No one ever loved him like this, so unashamed. His face and your eyes lit up with red as his character died in the game. He didn’t curse, just stared at you only causing you to get a bit uneasy.

“Sorry you lost?” you sheepishly replied, a blush spreading along your cheeks as you tried to hide it in his stomach. He threw the controller away before pulling you out of his stomach and up to him.  You got me spinning like a ballerina, You're the bad boy that I always dreamed of, You're the king and, baby, I'm the queen of Disaster, disaster. “Why is the queen sorry?” he purred out, stroking your hot cheeks with three of his fingers. You sighed at the tender affection, leaning more into his touch before looking up at him with hooded eyes. “Because I made you lose” your lips moved lazily, yet captured him as if he was in a dream. A dream where it was just you and him, together, without a care in the world. Oh, he hadn’t lost, not at all. “Remember when you first met me?” 

Got mascara thick, I get emotional You know I was more than just a party girl. Isn't hard to see what's goin' on, I'm so far gone (mmm, so far gone)

His eyebrows furrowed at your question, confused as to why that mattered now. His lack of an answer pushed you forward, sitting on your knees to be level with him. “Remember? I used to be this ‘party’ girl type... Dabi brought me back for a quick fuck and you looked at me like I was someone different. Someone more-” His growl cut you off, reminding you that he didn't like it when you brought up your old relation with Dabi, but it was the truth. “Oh, Tomu... You know he meant nothing-”

“I know but I don't like thinking about the time when he was fucking you-”

“It’s in the past” you firmly stated before pressing a kiss to the back of his knuckles. “You know how you make me feel Tomura, nothing and nobody could change that” your loving eyes captured his and reassured him that his insecurities were insignificant. That you loved him with all your heart and were thankful that he saw you past your ‘party girl’ looks. “Thick mascara wasn’t my type anyway... So it was nice that someone saw through that” 

He rolled his eyes in response but pulled you closer to him all the same. You were straddling his thigh, cupping his cheeks as he looked up at you gently. He often wondered why you chose him, which is why you showing him your thanks and gratitude made him feel better. He knew you were putting on a show when he first met you, after all, it takes one to know one. 

When I saw your face it was incredible, Painted on my soul, it was indelible. We celebrate our twisted fate, We're the broken ones

“You know... When I first saw your face... Man, did my heart go crazy for you” he readjusted you on his thigh as you began your rant and rave about how pretty he was to you, how amazing he was to you and that no matter what he looked like or said, you would love him for who he was. “And while you’re the leader of the League of Villains, your twisted fate and brokenness only drew me in more. Because I was... Am broken, and somehow, we are healing one another” your statement floated to his ears like musical notes while you pressed kisses down his jawline, taking your time on the scars he had acquired before you came along.

Got me spinning like a ballerina, Feeling gangsta every time I see ya, You're the king and, baby, I'm the queen of Disaster, disaster.

“I almost completely stopped scratching when you came along” he grumbled out, embarrassed that he was acting like a lovesick puppy dog with you in his arms. Your fingers trailed down one of his fresh cuts, sighing at the thought of him nervously hurting himself. You wanted to take that pain and fear away.

Just like he did for you.

You got me spinning like a ballerina, You're the bad boy that I always dreamed of, You're the king and, baby, I'm the queen of Disaster, disaster. “It’s one of my finest achievements” you cooed, pulling your lips away from his neck in order to look straight at him. His heart seemed to stop by just the pure love and acceptance swimming in your eyes. How could someone like you, love someone like him so much. Noticing his eyes start to change, you knew he was putting himself down.

“Oh no no”

Ladies and gentlemen, For the very first  You got me spinning like a ballerina,  Feeling gangsta every time I see ya, You're the king and, baby, I'm the queen of Disaster, disaster.

You moved your leg across him, straddling his lap fully and capturing his lips in yours. He gripped onto your hips carefully as he felt up as much skin as he could. Your heated kiss broke off when the game made a sound, indicating the player that they needed to continue. He growled, angry that something so little would break you off him. 

You got me spinning like a ballerina, You're the bad boy that I always dreamed of,

Your smirk made him angrier, upset that you would think the moment would be funny. When in reality, you just wanted to take him in. Every feature, every scar, every line, and every bump, you wanted to take it all in.  “Stop looking at me like that and kiss me again damnit-”

You're the king and I'm the beauty queen of Disaster, disaster.

“Yes my king”

[cats-obsessions]

The Survey Never Lies

Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion Modern au, something fluffy

Read on ao3

Summary:

Jaskier convinces Geralt to try Speed dating. The results are not what either of them expected.

----------------------------------

Geralt isn’t exactly sure what possessed him to agree to this. It’d been a rough past few months, with contracts being few and far between, and when they came, they were truly the worst. To say that this dry spell had extended to other areas in his life was an understatement; even Yennefer was able to move on by now after their latest, seemingly permanent, breakup. ‘Move on’ might be an understatement- enough time had passed for Yennefer to go into full-blown party mode, get over it, begin a new and honestly adorable relationship with their mutual friend Triss, and make up with him to the point of being hostile friends again.

That is to say, it has been a long time.

With next to no money and even less company, even Geralt could admit he has been feeling down. And yet, of course, Jaskier was always there right beside him through it all. It was always that way. Which is precisely why he got himself into this mess.

Initially, when the troubadour had suggested they try speed dating, Geralt was quick to strike the idea down. He’d already gone through the pains of using that awful dating app at Jaskier’s insistence, and he wasn’t about to have a rerun of that disaster. But then, Jaskier started to frame it as if he was the one that needed a date, and Geralt accompanying him would just be a favor- just to keep him company if it was boring, and to keep him safe if things went wrong. Geralt knows that was just a ploy to make him go, but between that and big blue puppy dog eyes, he found himself reluctantly agreeing.

Jaskier did not, however, tell him how horrible it would be. ‘it won’t take long’. Bullshit. Over an hour of small talk with strangers, and Geralt feels like he wants to crawl out of his skin. The establishment isn’t the finest, either. Everything is cheap- 90s music playing on shitty speakers grate on his eardrums, dimmed florescent lighting and fake candles on every table make it feel morel like a pizza parlor than a romantic dinner. And then there’s the people.

They’ve been paired into groups based on some benign personality survey they were forced to take when they got there, then paired off for short conversations. Five-minute sessions are timed on a buzzer, each blessed ring marking the end of the conversation, and bringing with it another stranger. They’re awkward at best and insufferable at worst.

It’s Geralt’s personal nightmare incarnate.

The best conversation he’s had all night was about one woman’s five cats. The worst was probably when a man tried to lean across the table and grab at his medallion without asking and Geralt found himself releasing an inhuman snarl before he could stop himself. The poor guy ended up hiding in the bathroom for the remaining duration of their five minutes, but that’s what he gets for trying to touch people, especially a witcher, without asking.

Even the cheap beer doesn’t make it better. When the timer dings, and all the participants in the room begin to shuffle to new tables, Geralt takes a moment to look down at his glass, taking a long, long sip of tasteless beer. By the time he has glanced up again, Jaskier is seating himself across the table, wine glass in hand. The bard flashes him a toothy grin, leaning in closer, propping his elbows on the scratchy, off-white tablecloth. As per usual, his button down shirt is left undone far too low, exposing a far too distracting patch of chest hair that Geralt most certainly doesn’t stare at, nor do his eyes slowly trace up exposed skin of his collar bones and neck to the slight blush tinging his cheeks.  

“So, how’s it going, my friend? Found the new Mrs. Rivia, or Mr., though, I suppose it’s not guaranteed he’d take your last name. Not that it’s guaranteed with a woman, either. You could take her name. Though, I do like yours- better than my own, actually.”

Geralt glances away, trying his best to hide his smirk at Jaskier’s prattling, “Hm.”

“Oh, come on now, use your words. We’ve talked about this. You’re not going to find someone when I’m the only person that understands your unintelligible grunting.” Jaskier chides, though it is true. Somehow, over the years since they met in that shitty bar in Pasoda, Jaskier has come to understand the witcher well- better than most. Where other humans shy away from him, Jaskier became stuck to him, following him on hunts and writing songs about their adventures- reluctant at first, he’s now thankful for the bard.

Geralt sighs “This is hopeless, Jaskier.”

“No, it’s not!”

“It is. They’re all- ugh, I don’t know.” Geralt rubs his hand over his face, “They’re all either freaked out by me or oblivious to what I am, and they just talk about their normal lives and normal jobs and- and how Geofry from accounting fucked things up again, while I’m sitting here thinking last week I was swallowed by a fuckin’ kikimora. I don’t fit in here.”

“That was horridly disgusting, but lots of people are into adventurous men. What about Eveline? She seemed amenable.” Jaskier gestures to the woman a few tables down with long red hair. Yes, she had found Geralt attractive, in dim lighting which hides his scars and expands his pupils into circles rather than slits, but that doesn’t translate to companionship, or even a night of fun. Yet, Jaskier is always the optimist, “There’s still hope yet!”

Geralt shakes his head “Easy for you to say. You don’t need to go speed dating to find someone. Everyone likes you.”

“As flattering as that is, I think, there’s nothing wrong with speed dating. Anyone who isn't interested in you is a fool. Besides, it's not always that easy for me! I’m looking for something a bit more committed this time. Not that I didn’t have great affections for my previous romances. Just…” Jaskier trails off, tongue sticking out slightly as he looks for the right terms.

“Momentarily and in measured amounts?”

“Mm,” Jaskier hums in agreement.

“Infatuation has to wear off some time.”

“So I’ve been told. Seems some hang around longer than others though,” He mutters. He casts his eyes down as if in thought, his ever-moving hands finding the rim of his wine glass, a long finger tracing it in a way that emits a high-pitched noise the musician likely isn’t even aware of. Geralt grunts, frowning slightly as he grabs Jaskier’s hand to remove it from the glass. The bard lets himself be moved easily, fingers warm and inviting under the witcher’s touch.

“Noise,” he grumbles.

Jaskier smiles apologetically, “Ah, witcher hearing. Sorry, my dear.”

His fingers tap on the tabletop, looking for something to fidget with in the wine glass’ absence. He finds the long-abandoned conversation que cards so kindly provided by the event’s organizers, as if they knew rightfully well how miserably uncomfortable this predicament would be.

“Have you looked at these at all tonight?” he asks, picking them up to glance through them.

“Tried not to. They’re deplorable.” Yet, the well-worn corners of the cards attest to how many attendees truly rely on them.

Jaskier smiles coyly “You’ve been showing people pictures of your lovely lady Roach again haven’t you?”

“Maybe” he blushes, both of them chuckling. “People like horses”

“Mm, that would only be a good pick-up tactic if she didn’t bite strangers.”

“She’s shy.” He defends, though he knows she’s not. She’s just picky; she’s never tried to bite Geralt, or Eskel or Vesemir for that matter. These days, she likes Jaskier enough to let him ride her when they visit her stables at Vesemir’s farm.

Jaskier glances to the clock, red numbers counting down the seconds until he will be subjected to yet another stranger. “We still have a bit of time, want to try these dumb questions?”

“Is silence not an option?” Geralt groans, though not without the hint of a smile on his lips.

Jaskier swats at him lightly, ignoring the comment. He flips through the cards, reading a few under his breath “What color is your personality? That’s dumb- yours is blue, obviously, and mine is yellow. Hmm, Ah, here’s one.” Geralt tilts his head, waiting “Describe your best friend.”

He can’t help but snort at that “Annoying.”

“First of all, rude. Second of all, appropriate answers could have included handsome, funny, talented, brilliant, loyal” Jaskier counts his claimed attributes on his fingers, likely to go on forever lest Geralt interrupt.

“Reckless, frivolous-” He jumps in, a teasing, toothy grin on his face.

“Fun. Fun is the term you’re looking for. It doesn’t matter though. I know you adore me.”

There’s too much truth in the words; though he wouldn’t hesitate to call Jaskier his friend -his best friend- adoration is a strong word, a word unknown to many witchers. Yet, he can’t deny the way Jaskier makes his heart fill with warmth, makes him feel alive and safe like he never has before. But that is something he’d much rather keep to himself. Geralt looks away, surely blushing as he lets a curtain of white hair falls in front of his face, hopefully hiding the pink tinge.

Jaskier watches him quietly, that soft warm expression in his eyes that somehow seems to be reserved for the witcher. A moment of silence passes before he snaps out of it, only a few seconds left on the clock “Wanna get out of here?”

At that, Geralt perks up, “I could use a real drink, but what about your search?”

“I don’t think I’ll find the one in this crowd,” he says, looking out on the group, a disappointed little pout pulling at his lips for just a moment before he turns back to Geralt, ever bright smile returning to his face.

Geralt nods, standing up and slipping on his jacket in preparation to leave. He catches Jaskier’s eyes roaming over him for a moment before the bard diverts his gaze, catching his lip between his teeth. Geralt does his best to focus on anything else. Whatever warmth or fluttering feelings it may give him, he knows he’s just imagining his friend’s interest.

They almost make it out with everyone around them shuffling to new tables. But, of course, they’re stopped by the group coordinator. They’d met him when they came in- a young man far too invested in this program, reciting his company provided lines with an unnatural enthusiasm.

“Looks like you two are having a good time. I’m glad to see some real sparks fly tonight! Sneaking off already?” the man grins, a little too much, as he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

“Oh, we were just-” Jaskier begins, laughing slightly under his breath.

“No, don’t tell me- for liability reasons and such. But good news!” he exclaims, “According to our survey, you two are our most compatible couple of the night, and the survey never lies!”

“Of course, we-” He’s cut off again, and next to him, Jaskier cringes.

“Which means, if you’re interested and it certainly seems like you are, you have won our luxury romance date package!”

“I think there’s been a mis- Sorry, what?” Geralt stops as the boy pushes a bright pink, sparkling gift card into his hand.

“$200.00 to the White Orchard, free drinks included and guaranteed reservations within the month. All you have to do is go together, have fun, and discover the romance of your lives!” The boy’s smile doesn’t falter as he continues to speak. “I’m legally obligated to tell you we have not run background checks on anyone.”

“But we’re-” Jaskier tries to speak, but not before Geralt can stop him.

“Excited!” Geralt grins, grabbing Jaskier’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “Thank you!”

$200 is $200. He’s not about to let the first chance he’s had at a fine dinner in who knows how long go by because of Jaskier’s big mouth. So, with that, he leads the bard outside, their hands still firmly grasped together, and pointedly doesn’t think about why his thumb is rubbing circles into the back of his best friend’s hand. Nor does he consider how well their fingers fit together. He certainly doesn’t notice the disappointed pang in his chest when their hands separate as they step out into the cold night air outside.

One glance between them and their prize, and neither of them can stifle their laughter. “I can’t believe you almost said no to the nicest restaurant in town.” Geralt chides, elbowing Jaskier lightly as they begin to walk home.

“I can’t believe it either. It’s like the offer didn’t register in my brain yet.” Jaskier chuckles.

Geralt rolls his eyes at him “Seems to happen a lot.”

Jaskier deliberately ignores him, instead leaning over his shoulder to look at the gift card, still cradled in Geralt’s hand “It is ‘luxury romance’” Jaskier snickers, “We may have to keep up this act a bit longer.

“Apparently it’s not too difficult.” Geralt sneers “Some survey. Of course, we match; we spend all our time together.”

Jaskier’s chuckles quiet down, a silence hanging between them as he seems to think it over, “I have known you longer and more deeply than any other in my life. There’s no one I’m more comfortable with.”

“And I you.” He doesn’t often admit such things, but somehow in the silence of the night, with the way Jaskier had stated it so gently, he can’t help but know he truly means it when he agrees. After the silence becomes too heavy, Geralt clears his throat “Anyways, it’ll be fun.

“Yea, fun.”

Somehow, Jaskier’s voice comes out flat, preoccupied. When Geralt glances over at him, his lip is caught between his teeth again, his face scrunched in deep contemplation. It’s not a long walk back to their apartments, their complexes within walking distance of each other. Geralt doesn’t push, silence between them doesn't normally bother him after a night of so much noise. But try as he might, he can't help but wonder if Jaskier is bothered by the implication they were- could be a couple. Instead, he tries to focus on the sounds of the city, cool air blowing around them, leaves crinkling as they skip across the cement sidewalk.

When they approach Jaskier’s apartment complex, they stop in front of the old brick stairs leading inside, and Geralt waits for either an invitation inside or a declaration that Jaskier has changed his mind about drinks. He looks… uneasy. His hands are shoved into his pockets, and he shifts back and forth on his feet.

“Um, Geralt?” Jaskier says, voice uncertain for once.

“Hm?”

“I, um,” Geralt barely has time to see Jaskier stop biting his lip before suddenly his lips are on Geralt’s, his hands in his hair, caressing, not forceful. The witcher could pull away without much of a fuss, but he finds himself pulling Jaskier in by his waist, holding him tightly as if he’s afraid he’ll lose him if he lets go.

The kiss is equal parts gentle and desperate. He feels like he’s on fire; he feels like there’s electricity running through him, between them, and- and butterflies in his stomach, for maybe the first time in his life. It’s all so new and different, but he finds he doesn’t mind- not one bit.

When Jaskier pulls away, he finds his head feeling light “Jask,” he breathes lightly, their noses bumping each other lightly.

“Sorry, I-” Jaskier moves to step back, a spark of caution and panic glimmering in his eyes, as if he hadn’t felt Geralt’s desire in their embrace. “I thought-” he begins, but Geralt pulls him back in.

“I didn’t say stop.” He smiles softly, bringing up one hand to cup Jaskier’s cheek. It relaxes the bard, all the tension melting away to be replaced by a mischievous smile as the witcher pulls him into another kiss.

****

Rays of morning sun beam through the windows of Jaskier’s apartment, illuminating every inch of it. Below, the city is bustling with noise, but here, things are peaceful. Geralt woke up first, no surprise there. He would have been more than content to stay in bed all day, wrapped tightly in his lover’s embrace- the thought of that word describing Jaskier brings a smile to his face. But cursed with his witcher metabolism, he was dragged out of bed by a growling stomach.

Rummaging through Jaskier’s kitchen for breakfast, he barely notices the other man enter the room. When he turns around, Geralt is met with striking blue eyes watching him intently as Jaskier leans against the counter, dressed in his boxers and a hoodie he’d stollen from Geralt long, long ago. Geralt chooses not to dwell too much on the thought that he’s been sleeping in it all this time- for now, anyways.

“What are you so smug about?” Geralt grins, abandoning his task to invade Jaskier’s space.

The musician smiles, unabashedly staring as he runs his hands over Geralt’s exposed chest, settling above the hem of the sweat pants he snatched from Jaskier’s closet this morning, “Who wouldn’t be smug after getting a boyfriend as beautiful as you?” Even though they kissed all through the night, Jaskier’s lips on his send a shiver down his spine.

“You know what they say.” Geralt murmurs, kissing his way down to Jaskier’s neck.

As he presses dark marks into the pale skin of his throat, Jaskier only breathlessly hums in response “Hm?”

“The survey never lies.” He quotes mockingly.

Jaskier snorts, shoving at Geralt’s shoulder playfully, but the witcher doesn’t budge, only nuzzling in closer against his neck. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“Very.”

[whatawriterwields]

Happy Crowley!

I know we all love to channel our angst into this disaster demon - and that can be wonderful and feelsy and the h/c really fills my soul and yes I do it as well, I’ve got plenty of Crowley angst on ao3 - but consider for a moment!! Absolutely delighted-by-the-world duck-loving fast-driving music enthusiast finally-gets-to-be-with-his-angel happy Crowley!! 

Tell me about him waking up in the morning and staring out his huge windows onto London and seeing it’s still alive, it’s still going, and the humans are still pushing doors marked “pull” and doing that sidestep-shuffle thing on the sidewalk and loving and caring for and helping each other more than hell ever knew was possible and he just laughs at the wonderful absurdity of the universe! 

Tell me about him strolling through St. James’ park and some kids are throwing around a ball and it goes off course and hits him in the leg, almost knocking him over, and he looks up to see the group of kids staring at him with fear in their eyes and without thinking he scoops the ball up and tosses it back to them, and just spends a couple of idle minutes tossing the ball with these kids because they’re all having such a grand old time and no one’s allowed to stop him, no one’s allowed to look down on him having fun, he’s free! 

Tell me about him absolutely falling to pieces over a tiny puppy in the park and just making little kissy noises at it and petting its soft little nose, and Aziraphale seeing it unbeknownst to Crowley and deciding to adopt a kitten for the bookshop, and Crowley loudly declaring he hates it but cuddling it mercilessly at every opportunity he gets because the kitten loves him and can sense he’s a huge softie and is always asking him for pets! 

Tell me about him swaggering around London going into the finest shops and buying vintage wine and expensive coffee and loudly proclaiming oh, it’s for my angel, as if to brag, and bringing it home wrapped up in colored paper and watching Aziraphale unwrap it and smiling like an idiot the entire time because Aziraphale looks so excited, and it’s because of Crowley, it’s because Crowley is allowed to do nice things without excuses, he’s allowed to be kind and unconvoluted, he’s allowed to be everything he wants! 

Tell me about him curling up in snake form on a cushion in a patch of sunlight in Aziraphale’s bookshop, helping Aziraphale drive away book-buyers with his presence, and going to sleep and feeling so safe and so warm and so cared-for he wouldn’t know what to do with himself in human form, but as a snake he can just bask in his own contentment and be, and no one will demand anything else of him! 

Tell me about him snuggling up to Aziraphale in bed and wrapping his arms around him and letting Aziraphale kiss him, kiss his cheeks and his lips and his neck, run his fingers through his hair, shower him with love and attention and praise, while he just sits there and takes it, welcomes it, allows it to consume him because it’s all he wants and Aziraphale is so, so happy to give it to him for the rest of time! 

Tell me about him taking one of his underachieving plants to the garbage disposal to get rid of it and then just staring at it, and shaking his head, grinning, and going out to the park to plant it when no one can see and telling it that it’s not a failure, it’s not a mistake, it’s just the way it was meant to be and it doesn’t need to feel ashamed of itself - and then the next day planting another one next to it because you get to be loved, you get to be happy, you get to spend eternity with someone else and you don’t have to be alone! I promise you don’t ever have to be alone! 

Just!! Happy Crowley you guys! 

[meteor752]

MCU Hogwarts headcanons

A while back I did this with Lotr, and it was fun, so I will do it with the MCU now too. And no, I will not do a long ass post going over every fucking year because that would take such a long time, and I don’t bother.

And again, this is my opinion, you are entitled to yours, but I’m not interested in yours so screw it.

Tony: Ravenclaw, Pureblood. Kind of a slacker when it comes to classes, and basically sleeps his way through most of them, but still gets top scores on essays and tests. May be a Pureblood, but he don’t give a shit about your blood status. Addicted to sweets and coffee. Don’t approach him, he will start to gush about that kind Hufflepuff within five minutes. Is trying to find a spell that will make him taller because he smol. Ravenclaw chaser. Patronus is a Raven

Steve: Hufflepuff, muggleborn. Is one of those Hufflepuffs that is all sweet and stuff, but can fuck you up if desired too. A fan of dueling. Is there if you need to talk about something. Doesn’t know what’s going on around him, ever. Is really good at Herbology. Often pets the plants cuz he’s soft like that. Is totally in love with that snarky Ravenclaw boy. Hufflepuff keeper, Quidditch captain and prefect. Patronus is a bald eagle (Yes I did that)

Thor: Gryffindor, Pureblood. Stans everyone around him. Come to him if someone would insult you, he will beat up the person and then give you chocolate frogs. A huge effing nerd tbh, and really likes the Holyhead Harpies. Is shamelessly dating his adopted brother (YES I SHIP THORKI NO I WILL NOT APOLOGIZE). Amazing at weather magic. Wants to become an animagi. Patronus is a Labrador.

Natasha: Slytherin, Halfblood. Adopted and raised by an auror. Is in one of those stereotypical Hufflepuff-Slytherin friendships. Really good at potions. Everyone is either scared of her or in love with her, or both. Is a faithful girlfriend though. Is honestly though a real cutie. Makes fun of everyone. Just needs a hug. Slytherin beater. Patronus is a cheeta.

Bruce: Ravenclaw, halfblood. Werewolf. Not the boldest person in the world. Can snark back if needed to. Would rather not though. Is basically good at every subject. Used to get bullied, before Stark started snarling at everyone that came close. They are basically best friends. Fancies that loud gryffindor girl, but has no idea why. Ravenclaw prefect. Patronus is a frilled lizard.

Clint: Hufflepuff, muggleborn. Adopted and raised by an auror. Is in one of those stereotypical Hufflepuff-Slytherin friendships. Is trying to find a spell that will make him hear better. Really defensive of other disabled kids. Teaches them ways to use magic to make life easier. Is honestly just a huge mess. Constantly flirting with the stiff Hufflepuff girl. Goofball to the max. Likes flying. Hufflepuff beater. Patronus is a hawk.

Loki: Slytherin, pureblood. Was revealed to be adopted when he was ten. Has met his biological family once, and would rather not do it again. Master at illusion magic and the dark arts. Crossdressing icon. If you’re looking for him, he’s probably in the library studying something forbidden. Has taken the odd hufflepuff girl under his wing. Slytherin seeker. Patronus is a viper.

Bucky: Slytherin, muggleborn. Tired mom energy. Went through a goth phase in his third and fourth year, and is very embarassed by it. Lost his arm in his second year in a hydra accident. Loves his creepy girlfriend to bits. Friendly rivalry with the Hufflepuff boy that often hovers around his best friend. Bisexual Disaster at it’s finest. Slytherin beater. Patronus is a wolf.

T’Challa: Slytherin, pureblood. Probably the kindest person you will ever meet. Is often found at the top of the astronomy tower, watching the sunset. Recently found out about his cousin that’s attending Ilvermorny, and is trying to form a friendly relationship. Rumored to be from a royal family in Africa. Slytherin Prefect, Slytherin keeper, Quidditch captain and Head boy. Patronus is a Panther.

Rhodey: Gryffindor, halfblood. Childhood best friend with Stark. Has to drag him away from trouble constantly. Is the only one with a single braincell. Has often tried to combine small muggle devices with magic. Has often failed ar combining small muggle devices with magic. Aromantic icon. Is close to hexing his friend if he won’t stop babbling about the kind Hufflepuff boy. Gryffindor prefect and chaser. Patronus is a pigeon.

Stephen: Ravenclaw, muggleborn. Was so focused to learn everything about the wizarding world that he did it in the span of a single month. Was almost put into Slytherin. Kind of wants to be put into Slytherin because that Stark kid is getting on his nerves. Aims to be the next Merlin. Really good at charms and ancient runes. Has tried and suceeded multiple times to sneak into the restricted section in the library. Helps Loki to guide the odd Hufflepuff girl, so he won’t corrupt her in some way. Patronus is a Parrot.

Hela: Slytherin, Pureblood. Transexual queen. Goth lesbian to the max. Will protect her younger brothers with her life. Has a wolf as a pet, for some reason. Really fascinated by ghosts and Inferius. Basically really into death. Is often found talking to the thestrals. Hopelessly in love with her best friend. Might be a future dark lord, who knows. Patronus is a Unicorn.

Brunnhilde: Gryffindor, muggleborn. Butch lesbian and proud. Is not impressed by you. Has a firewhisky problem. Honestly just wants to chill with her BFF and do nothing. Constantly sneaks into the forbidden forest with her, just to skip class. Very oblivious. But is still relatively good at DADA and an amazing dueller. Gets along with her Best friends younger brother, who admires her a lot. Gryffindor beater and Quidditch captain. Patronus is a Pegasus.

Maria: Hufflepuff, muggleborn. Adopted and raised by an auror. Is one of the few Hufflepuffs that isn’t just a kind softy, but a pretty focused student. Gets along with Rhodey relatively well because she too has a couple of braincells. Is trying to become an Auror like her adopted father. Could this Hufflepuff boy stop flirting with me I’m trying to study. Hufflepuff prefect and head girl. Patronus is a lark.

Peter: Gryffindor, Halfblood. Literally the sweetest boy you will ever meet, oh my god how are you this innocent. Just a huge adorable nerd. Everyone loves him. Is best friends with the snarky Ravenclaw girl. Care of magical creatures king. Trans boy. Deathly afraid of spiders. Gryffindor seeker. Patronus is a Wren.

Shuri: Ravenclaw, pureblood. Smartest person in school, and is not afraid to show it. Constantly talks back to teachers. Has gotten a lot of detention because of it. Often does not do her homework though, as she’d rather do her own magical experiments. Gets a lot of detention because of that as well. Bisexual mess. Totally crushing on the soft Hufflepuff boy that she took a liking to. Ravenclaw seeker. Patronus is a panther.

Sam: Hufflepuff, halfblood. Prefers flying on his broom to walking, so he is doing that as much as possible. Sometimes he just flies around on his broom in the halls between classes. Proudly dating the kind Slytherin boy, and wants everyone to know about it. Is actually not a bad student, despite popular belief. Hufflepuff beater. Patronus is a Falcon.

Wanda: Hufflepuff, Halfblood. Was raised in muggle society, as she was abandoned by her Wizard father. A tad bit odd, but really powerful. Is one of the best students in the school at Non-verbal spells. Can do a few tricks with just her hands as well. Is mentored by a Slytherin boy and a Ravenclaw boy, who just can’t stop arguing with each other. Hufflepuff seeker. Patronus is an Augurey.

Pietro: Gryffindor, Halfblood. Was raised in muggle society, as he was abandoned by his Wizard father. Is always late in someway, so is always rushing around everywhere. Accidentally got his hair dyed white during transfiguration his second year, and he ended up liking it so he kept it. Is trying to create a spell to make him faster so he won’t be late all the time. Gryffindor chaser. Patronus is a Fwooper.

Darcy: Gryffindor, muggleborn. The only person who has beaten Thor in a duel. She just tazered him halfway through. Is that one student that refuses to use quills because why would I when pens are much easier? Never wears robes, always wears muggle clothing. Sassiest at Hogwarts. Omni and proud. Doesn’t bother to learn to pronounce a single thing, which has resuled in a couple of incidents. Shamessly in love with the shy Ravenclaw boy, and is constantly flirting. Patronus is a Hedgehog.

Vision: Ravenclaw, muggleborn. Grew up in an orphanage with his older brother Ultron, his older sister Friday and his younger brother Dumme. All four are wizards however. Is not close at all with his siblings. Grew up without any real human connection, so is really bad at emotions. His friend Wanda is teaching him though. Is really bad at social cues. Has a thing for shiny things, especially gems and jewels. Patronus is a crow.

Scott: Hufflepuff, muggleborn. Accidentally shrunk himself in his first year, and no one will let him live it down. Got a good friend from the whole thing though. Is just a big fan of the wizarding world though, and admires everyone. A human puppy. Introduces himself to everyone, in hope of making friends. Really likes to look at and draw bugs. Has more than once used the Engorgement charm on bugs, just to get a better look at them. Patronus is a bumblebee.

Hope: Ravenclaw, pureblood. Made friends with the boy that shrunk himself, just to figure out how he did it. He somehow managed to rub off on her, and in her later years she is a lot more snarky and joking. She regrets it everyday, but it’s too late because that boy is now her boyfriend and she will protect him until the very end. Is often in the glasshouses studying rare insects. Ravenclaw prefect. Patronus is a wasp.

I decided to stop here, because I literally could have kept going for ages, but I didn’t want to do that. Maybe I will make a part two involving the Guardians and a couple of other faces, I can do whatever I want.

[xoexoxhoe]

On The Hill

A/N: This is LITERALLY one of the most interesting things i’ve ever read. My Co wrote this based off of her love for political angst/dramas, and honestly, it’s really good guys, TOTALLY WORTH THE READ. We hope you enjoy this little piece by Momo (@sailor-baek )

Characters: Park Seonghwa (ATEEZ) & Reader (Y/N), featuring another ATEEZ member! 

Theme: Political AU, angst, love affair, political drama 

Nothing comes easy when you work for the President of the United States. Especially when it involves Park Seonghwa. 

💥Warning: Angst💥

The processional march was colorful noise in your ears as you followed closely behind the big man. It got older every time you heard it, which was, quite regrettably, every first Friday of the month. Really, anything would be better than the obnoxious blaring of-what was it? An oboe? You had no idea but it sure didn’t sound like the Chopin Nocturne op.9 no.2 you had to turn on every night to sleep.

“You’re doing it again.”

You didn’t even remember getting on the floor, a communications intern behind the press caucus chuckled. Carrie Ann. George Washington University undergrad and poli-sci masters at the good ‘ole Harvard. You made a mental note to fire the little shit as soon as this thing was over. Your attention turned to the man, still waiting for a complete introduction at the podium.

“Doing what, sir?”

“That frown thing with your eyebrows. You’re gonna get wrinkles, Y/N. What was that cream thing you use? You better stock up before Big Pharma gets their hands on the patent or I’ll have to call you...what is that new movie with Oprah?”

“A Wrinkle In Time, sir.”

“Yes, that one! A wrinkle-”

“It’s a childrens movie; nothing to do with premature aging, sir.”

A little huff escaped his lips and a slight tug appeared on yours. The press secretary was clapping now signaling for your boss to give his address.

“I’m sure your daughter will be happy to watch it with you tonight. Mr. President, you’re up.”

“Ah yes, it appears so.”

You watched as he made his way up to the center; flurries of camera flashes turning the west wing corridor into a light show. This is the time when you would check out. His speech was solid, you had looked it over yourself the hour prior. Today, however, there was a particular bump in your paved smooth travel down the hill. A rather large bump, by the name of Park Seonghwa. He was standing to the right behind his Prime Minister with the cheekiest smile plastered across his face. Bilateral economic relations didn’t warrant this kind of happiness, it oozed off of him like fucking honey. You had heard your greenies gushing over him earlier that day. The hot speech writer from the embassy. Why was he even here? Stupid question, you knew it was because he was Prime Minister Cho’s nephew. Nepotism at its finest. You had to use that one later. It would definitely sting. When clapping resumed again you made your way to the podium to rally the cameras back into the hall.

“Coverage of the reception will be permitted. I’ll have the details sent over via secure line. Until then please wait in the briefing room for further instruction. Thank you, everyone.”

You turned the corner still trying to shake that stupid smile from your mind when Carrie Ann caught your eye at the coffee corner. Before you could stalk all the way over, someone called your name.

“Ms. Chief of Staff...sir?”

God, you had forgotten your interns had project due today. “One sec, hun.”

You pivoted straight into a paper cup of coffee. “You look like you wanted to, um, talk to me.”

“Carrie Ann, do I amuse you.” The cup was warm in your hand now; sickly sweet aromas filling your nose. A little sip of the searing liquid confirmed your suspicion, too much liquid sugar. The poor girl had gone white.

“More specifically, my face-does it...does it make you want to laugh in a room of every major news outlet in the Pacific?”

“No ma’am, I didn’t mean to-”

“But you did.” You took a longer sip and gave her one last canvas before turning back to the little crowd that had gathered. “This coffee is wonderful by the way. Just a little suggestion, though; go easy on sweetener. You’ll need to remember that when you start at the local Starbucks.” You relished the gasps all the way to your office. It wasn’t until someone cleared their throat that you remembered you weren’t alone.

“Shitty morning, my greenies. Tell me something that won’t make me want to throw you off of the east wing balcony.” A lazy finger point at the intern that had tapped your shoulder earlier opened a flood of updates.

“The KORUS coverage just hit air and it’s already trending on Twitter and Facebook.”

“Washington Governor Townsend has agreed to the state park expansion plans in Olympia; we should have the contractors’ bids on your desk no later than noon.”

“The writer guy is waiting in your blue room, ma’am. Said he has an appointment.”

Messy papers were strewn all over your desk; draft bills for POTUS to look over and countless testimony from the bane of your existence that was the municipal aide fund. You didn’t even look up. “I know plenty of writers, Joshua, you need to be more specific.”

“The hot one, ma’am. Tall, Korean, windswept hair look-”

“You need not go on, dear, this is the White House, not a middle school cafeteria. Send him in.”

The group trudged to the door. “Wait. I want all of you to finish up those Arbor Day submissions from the kindergartners. Pick a winner too.”

“The criteria, ma’am?”

“I don’t know, pick one that colored the trees unrealistic colors. I support impressionism and nothing says ‘Happy Tree Day! Thank you for the oxygen!’ more than a purple ficus.”

“Got it, ma’am, purple ficus.” You shoo-ed them off with the hope that the president would get a chuckle from handing a five-year-old artist a certificate for a periwinkle disaster on national television.

“That girl from earlier. I passed her crying on the way here; such a harsh way to be let go.”

You scoffed, “I might just call secret service to drag her out. Why are you here, Mr. Park? You didn’t have an appointment.”

Seonghwa sauntered to your desk, unbuttoning his suit jacket while easing onto the varnished oak and cocking his head to the side, “Hm…” he grabbed the bow cascading down your blouse, rolling the silk in his fingers, “I never imagined something so frilly on someone so…”

“So what?”

He glared down at you, dropping the bow and retracting his fingers, grabbing the pocket square out of his suit, “So… disdainful.”

You smiled unevenly, “Sometimes I wonder where you learn words like this, but then I remember you went to college here and I can’t one up you with pretentious vocabulary.”

A smile spread across his face, “Do you want it in Korean? 경멸적인.”

“Why should I respect you, Seonghwa? I’m the White House Chief of Staff; not the eager college girl that gets you a cream cheese bagel in the morning.”

The way he got under your skin was criminal. Bad enough that he still hadn’t answered your initial question. What was the question? You were getting too old for this. “Your speech on NATO was cute; Prime Minister Cho did well for the press.”

“Did you like it?”

“Oh, I did. In fact I have a particular word in mind to describe it.”

“What would that be?”

“쓰레기.”

“Ah! She knows Korean now; such a dynamic personality.” His index finger tapped against his palm, “First off, we have a condescending Chief of Staff, who, with no mercy or remorse, loves to fire her perky college interns. Second, she must be achingly smart because she dragged my Korean speech-”

“I’ll stop you right there. Perky? Not exactly the word I’d use to-”

Seonghwa stood, readjusting his suit, “Let me finish, Y/N. Finally, for someone so beautiful, you sure do have a terrible temper.”

“You came here to be an asshole; is that it?”

“Takes one to know one, ma’am.”

“You’re the one that called it a dynamic personality.”

He paused, clasping his hands together, “I simply came to ask if I’d be seeing you at the party tonight.”

“To gawk at your latest arm candy? Don’t count on it.”

◎

The Secretary of Commerce had always rubbed you the wrong way. From the beginning of the appointment, green shadows in his hollow eyes had made his motive clear. Sure, the trade renewal was beneficial to everyone. It was especially so to one certain senior official that had poured half the budget into the Korean subsidiary of a Chinese chemical manufacturer. You weren’t a god, neither was the president. The things that were sacrificed in the name of universal well being wouldn’t keep you up at night. Besides, the geezer talking your ear off had to pay for his estate in Great Barrington somehow. You felt a hand slip around your waist.

“It was a pleasure, Mr. Secretary. Congratulations on the agreement.”

Pulled away without much more than a nod in his direction you turned your attention to your companion. “How did you know I was dying of boredom?”

“Y/N, dear, you wear your heart on your sleeve. It couldn’t have been more obvious if you had screamed ‘insolent plutocrat’ in his face.”  

You gravitated towards the bar and took the cucumber vodka Yunho held out. He was every bit the man your parents had expected; fitting the description a 9 year old you had mapped out and stuck to the fridge. Doctor Jeong Yunho; Chief of surgery at Georgetown, specializing in neurology. How else could you describe Yunho but simply strapping. Heels didn’t challenge his height. His goofy smile never faltered and his bright eyes followed you like a puppy. Walking into any function with him felt like a cold drink laced with ecstasy; only mildly dangerous and the biggest ego booster. He made you feel powerful.   

You leaned in to begin a whisper into his ear.

“My my my, what do we have here?” If Yunho was ecstasy, Seonghwa was the dirtiest mephedrone on the black market. That hand found your waist again. The woody scent on Yunho’s lapel invaded your senses. There came a time every woman had to face the music; you hadn’t wanted it to be tonight.

“Mr. Park, I don’t believe you’ve met my fiancé.”

“Park Seonghwa, right? I’m Yunho, nice to meet you, man.”

The newest patron took his hand, giving it a firm shake. “Likewise, Doctor. I assume congratulations are in order.” You cast a sidewards glance to Yunho who was playing idly with the silver band on his finger. The whole ordeal was suffocating.

“So when’s the big day?” Seonghwa’s eyes were on you now, still full of the morning’s mischief.

“End of June; we’ll make sure to send you an invitation.” You scooted a little closer to Yunho, letting his guarding presence hold you upright. A shrill beep sounded from his breast pocket; one that you had heard many times. He cleared his throat a little and reached for the pager. Duty always called. It didn’t matter even if you had just helped to divert a nuclear crisis. If someone had their head cracked open on an operating table, Dr. Jeong would be there to patch them up. You took a long swig of the sweating cocktail and set it down.

“You should go, honey. It sounds urgent.”

He offered you a sheepish smile. Seonghwa just turned to face the bar, sloshing a drink in his hand.

“Multiple trauma crash on the 95. Baby, I’m sorry.” Yunho lightly grabbed out your hands that re-did the buttons of his suit.

“I of all people know that work is work. Don’t sweat it kid. I’ll see you tomorrow night, okay?”

“You’re not coming home?”He met your lips in a chaste kiss.

“I fly to Mumbai first thing in the morning and I still have lots of stuff to do before then.”

Yunho just nodded with understanding and bent down to peck your cheek one last time. “Text me when you land.”

“Will do. Drive safe.” When he was far you heard a snicker come from the side. Rolling your eyes you motioned the bartender over for a refill. It was Bruno tonight. Thank god. He always kept the good stuff on the side for you.

“Work is work, huh?”

“Precisely.”

The brooding man eased towards you slightly, still looking forward. “Are you working me?”

“For what reason would I do that? I have nothing to gain.”

He downed his dark liquid. “We both know that isn’t true.” and with that, he was gone into the crowd of tipsy politicians. Dim chandeliers and the gaudy presentation was suddenly becoming too much. With swift steps you made your way to the president’s table, a pleasant smile plastered on your face.

“Sir, I’m going to head out for the night; lots to do for tomorrow.”

“Of course, Y/N! Send my regards to Yunho on his surgeries. I saw that he left earlier.”

It was that obvious, huh? “I will. Thank you, Mr. President. Congratulations again on the agreement.” With a quick side hug to the misses and last goodbyes, you walked to the back entrance. Your night detail was waiting at the door, purse and coat in hand.

“Evening, ma’am.” You took your purse and got into the car.

“Hello, boys. I’m so ready to sleep.”

“Home, ma’am?”

“Not tonight, Sarge.”

“Of course.”

The ride to the Regis was short. Without much thought you were in your suite; draped in silk and nursing a vintage malt the adorable concierge had given you. And you had tried so hard to not come off as an alcoholic. How disappointing. The door clicked open but you didn’t pay it any attention as you were still enthralled by the itinerary in front of you. A hand pulled the pin out of your makeshift bun sending hair cascading over your shoulders.

“You work too hard, Y/N.”

“I am my work. It runs my life” The humming in your ear made a familiar heat rush to your chest. It flared out down your arms in little tingles.

“This here isn’t work. I think this is something you’re doing all for yourself.”

You reached behind you, bringing lips hard against your own. There was a little cut on the bottom one from a consistent bite the owner was likely not aware of. Sucking on the spot elicited the deepest moan you’d ever heard. Music on par with Nocturne op.9.

“Add selfishness to the qualities of my dynamic personality.”

You turned around in your seat and found a firm grip on your ass pulling you flush against a rattling chest. “He seems like a great guy.”

“Don’t talk about him, Seonghwa.” Stepping off the chair you pushed him towards the bed. He fell onto the plush surface without a sound of protest.

“You definitely have a type. The press would have a field day.”

Settling over the cocky speech writer that had been tugging on the edges of your mind all day was satisfying to say the least. You fit there perfectly; taking everything that was Park Seonghwa in until it made you dizzy. Though not as dizzy as he became when you abused his neck with abandon. You always adored his icy veins threatening to pop in restraint. His hands fumbled at your hip, willing you to move against him. He was too busy getting off to shameless moans of his name in his ear to feel your knee press down hard on his clothed dick.

“If anything gets out to the media, prepare to have this handed over to your uncle on a silver fucking platter.” His breath hitched and you swore the bulge in his pants only grew. You replaced the knee with your hand and used the other to rip open his now wrinkled button down. Your favorite surface. Not as broad as Yunho, but Seonghwa would say the filthiest things to get you to paint trails down his chest until he couldn’t breathe. That’s the difference between your choice of drugs. The most dangerous ones were the most addictive. So when he captured your mouth again, a fresh whimper on his lips, you had no intention of backing up the threat. Seonghwa. Seonghwa. Seonghwa. Pure honey to taste.   

“Please, just fucking ruin me, Y/N.”

“I serve at the pleasure.”  

[avantegarda]

Fame and Misfortune (Part 1)

A while back I promised/threatened you guys I would write “Maglor being a reluctant teenage celebrity” and guess what, I followed through!

Big shoutout to @cherepashkadrabbles for discussing Elf Allergies with me. We only tackle the big issues in this household.

It was strange to be performing without his father in the crowd. Fëanor had been at every one of Maglor’s performances since he was a child, and Maglor had become accustomed to his father finding him after the last song, loudly congratulating him, and discussing areas for improvement on the way home.

But Fëanor was at home, looking after the children while Nerdanel visited her parents in the north, and Maglor was left to perform at Lord Maitar’s soirée without any family in the audience at all.

It was an honor, he kept telling himself. Lord Maitar, an old friend of Finarfin’s, was one of the most well-known artistic patrons in the city, and being asked to perform at one of his parties was something many musicians aspired to for years. The fact that he, an adolescent boy who had only performed in public a few times, was part of this illustrious occasion must mean that he really was talented.

So there was no reason to feel so nervous he thought he might faint. No reason at all.

As it happened, his actual performance went fairly well. Playing music was, in fact, one of the few times Maglor actually felt comfortable in his own skin, rather than stumbling about like a puppy whose feet were too big and legs too long. He managed to get through four songs without major incident, and was greeted at the end by polite, enthusiastic applause.

Once he was back offstage and mingling with the other guests, though, Maglor was beginning to understand why his father had always hurried him home immediately after performing. When one hung about at parties, people always wanted to talk to one, and ask dozens of questions that were extremely difficult to answer, and after an hour of this Maglor desperately wanted to run home and fall asleep in the bathtub.

But of course, he could hardly manage to sneak away when his host was approaching him, smiling in a way that indicated he had a lot to say.

“Prince Makalaurë!” Lord Maitar exclaimed, clapping Maglor on the back (and nearly knocking him over). “A brilliant performance, as usual. I remember when you were a tiny boy just learning to play the lute, and look at you now! You’ll be regarded as the finest musician in Aman in a few years, I shouldn’t wonder.”

Maglor vainly tried to keep from blushing, and managed a polite nod. “Thank you, Lord Maitar,” he said, voice still slightly hoarse from singing and making conversation even after a few glasses of wine. “It’s very kind of you to say so.”

“Kindness has nothing to do with it, my boy, it is Varda’s own truth. But my goodness, you must forgive me, I haven’t yet introduced you to your greatest admirer.” He ushered forward the person who had been standing behind him—a pretty adolescent girl with dark skin and honey-blonde curls, clutching an enormous bouquet of carnations. “This is my daughter, Liriel. She’s been looking forward to talking to you all evening.”

“You were amazing,” Liriel gushed, shoving the bouquet into Maglor’s arms. “I’ve never heard anyone sing like you.”

“Oh...er, thank you,” said Maglor. His fingers felt suddenly slippery, and he awkwardly shifted the flowers to keep from dropping them. Was he going mad, or could he actually hear his own heart pounding in his ears? “I’m glad you enjoyed the concert.”

“Enjoyed it? I loved it!” Liriel looked as though she was resisting the urge to throw her arms around him. “I nearly cried during your last song, and that line all that is left is ashes of love...how did you come up with that?”

“Well, I...I couldn’t say, really, it just sort of...came to me...listen, Lord Maitar, it really was wonderfully kind of you to host this.” Maglor rubbed at his nose, which was beginning to itch a bit. “But I’m afraid I really must head home now. Mother is still very keen on me getting home at a reasonable hour…”

“Now, now, you mustn’t leave just yet!” Lord Maitar declared. “There are still plenty of people here who want to congratulate you, and I am sure Liriel has loads of questions for you...gracious, my boy, are you all right?”

Following his gaze, Maglor looked down with alarm at his hands, which were rapidly becoming covered in unsightly red blotches. The itching in his nose worsened, and before he could stop it he let out an atrociously loud sneeze. Maitar, Liriel, and everyone else around them stared at him in horror, the closest ones taking a slight step back.

“Oh, no. I am so sorry, I just…” Maglor sneezed again, managing to cover his nose this time. “...I think it must be something to do with these flowers. Dreadfully sorry, really, but I think I...achoo! I have to go.”

He shoved the bouquet back into a bewildered Liriel’s arms and fled, telling himself that the tears stinging his eyes were from the flowers, nothing more. 

--

“It was a disaster, Maitimo,” Maglor groaned, collapsing onto what he referred to as “his” side of Maedhros’ bed. “Absolutely humiliating.”

Maedhros sighed and closed the heavy book he was reading with a thump. “I find that hard to believe. What did you do, break a string while playing?”

“No, the music part was really all right. But I had some sort of horrid reaction to the flowers Lord Maitar’s daughter gave me after the performance, and came out in hives all over and kept sneezing. Everyone is going to think I’m a complete idiot now.” Maglor sniffed and rubbed his nose, which still itched slightly. “Especially Liriel.”

“That’s odd,” Maedhros said. “I’ve heard of animals having reactions to plants like that, but never Elves. What did our parents say about it?”

“Father reckons it was just nerves. He says that when your mind and spirit are upset, then your body is likely to be upset by odd things. But that isn’t the point, Nelyo,” Maglor groaned. “The point is, how am I ever going to become a successful musician if I turn red and start sneezing like mad every time someone congratulates me?”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, Makalaurë. Remember, you are still very young.”

“I am thirty-three. By the time Father was my age he’d already designed half the buildings in Tirion and invented a new metal alloy, and do you think he got embarrassed when someone praised him? No, he probably told them that he already knew that he was amazing, and then locked himself back in his workshop.”

“Then perhaps you ought to take a leaf out of Father’s book,” offered Maedhros. “Adopt some of his well-deserved arrogance. Now, now, I am not saying you need to go about bragging all the time,” he said quickly, before Maglor could protest. “But if you tell yourself that you are talented and you deserve all the praise and acclaim you receive—which is quite true, incidentally—then before long you’ll start to believe it. And then you’ll feel only joy and gratitude when nice young girls give you bouquets.”

“I suppose that is worth a try,” said Maglor. “But I am never touching carnations again, I can tell you that. That’ll be a new rule for all my performances: no carnations, ever.”

“We can have Grandfather make it a royal decree.” Maedhros blew out the candle and flopped back onto his pillow. “But now, Makalaurë, I’d appreciate it if you put your talents to good use and sang your poor exhausted brother to sleep. You are not the only one who has had a long day, you know.”

With a grin, Maglor cleared his throat and softly began to sing.

[crystallized-shadow]

Chapter: 1/1 Rating: Explicit Pairing: Madara/Tobirama Word Count: 3987 Warnings: Teacher/Student Roleplay, Dom/Sub elements, Office Sex, Hair Pulling, Rough Sex, and Collars Summary: An unfortunate situation leads to Tobirama discovering a side he never knew about his chemistry professor.

For @madatobiweek Day 7: Something Kinky

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

It wasn’t fair, Tobirama thought to himself as he watches the sleek black hair trail behind the immaculately dressed man stalking across the front of the room, no man should be allowed to be so visually captivating. The older man could have been explaining the meaning of life or the nuances of how paint dried; Tobirama wouldn’t have any idea, all he could think about was how perfect the other’s lips would look wrapped around his cock. Professor Madara Uchiha, head of the Chemistry department at Konoha University was not only very passionate about his subject but also drop-dead gorgeous to boot. If Tobirama was a man of lesser intellect he would be failing the class due to the constant distraction strutting across the front of the room everyday. Professor Uchiha had an air of confidence that was absolutely intoxicating to the Senju, he just wanted to bend the man over his desk and fuck him until he begged for mercy. Unfortunately the professor didn’t even know he existed; in fact he didn’t seem to realize the effect he had on his students.

After a particularly trying day, Professor Uchiha had worn his hair up in a high ponytail that Tobirama just wanted to wrap around his fist, he decides he needs to blow off some steam. Normally Tobirama would avoid the bars, drunk college kids were the absolute worse, but the one his brother ran was a bit classier and tended to cater to the dom/sub culture. With any luck he could find a sub looking for a rough fuck.

“Tobi! Thank god!” Of course the universe had other plans for him.

“What is it Anija?” Tobirama sighs, writing off his previous plans as he walks over to the bar where Hashirama is waving frantically at him.

“I need you to do me a huge favor!” Hashirama pleads, pressing his hands together and doing his best to look like Tobirama had kicked his favorite puppy again.

“Fine,” the younger Senju grumbles, knowing it’s pointless to argue with his brother.

“Thank you!” Hashirama grabs his brother and drags him back to the office before he can change his mind.

Figuring Hashirama messed up the bar’s books again, he really needed to stop trying to help Mito while she was away, Tobirama’s not prepared for the sight of his chemistry professor passed out on the couch Hashirama insisted on having in the office. “What happened?”

“Madara came here to have a celebratory drink with me,” Hashirama explains, making Tobirama’s brows furrow in confusion, “we are old friends and he just got a huge grant for the department. Anyway we got a bit wrapped up in reminiscing and someone spiked his drink.”

“What?”

“I dealt with it.” The serious expression coupled with the dark tone makes Tobirama pause. That was usually a telltale sign that he shouldn’t ask questions so he just nods.

“So what do you need me to do?”

“I need you to take him home with you.”

“Absolutely not,” Tobirama states with a frown, “I can’t take him anywhere he’s my teacher.”

“Oh…” Hashirama deflates for a second before he suddenly breaks into a grin. “Take him to my house then! It’s off campus and no one will know!”

“He probably shouldn’t be alone right now,” Tobirama points out as he glances at the unconscious man, “doesn’t he have a girlfriend or something?”

“Mads is single and his brother is out of town,” Hashirama says and Tobirama can’t stop the snort at the stupid nickname. “Can you just stay with him until I get home? I close tonight, but you can always spend the night and I’ll take you back to your dorm tomorrow morning.”

“Fine,” Tobirama sighs, knowing it would be quicker to just agree with his brother and get it over with.

“Thanks! Here are his keys, just go out the back door,” Hashirama shoves the keys into Tobirama’s hands and darts out the door. “I have to get back to work!”

“Idiot,” Tobirama mutters under his breath as he crosses the short distance to the couch. “Professor, are you awake?” Shaking the older man gets zero response so Tobirama carefully picks his professor up and takes him out to the car that flashes when he hits the unlock button on the key fob. Cars might not be his thing, Kawarama was the car nut of the family, but Tobirama has to admit Professor Uchiha’s ride is very nice.

When Tobirama gets to Hashirama’s house, he parks in the garage and carefully moves his professor to the couch.

“Professor?” Tobirama tries again as he places a waste basket next to the unconscious man. Getting no response the Senju sighs and flops into the loveseat across from the couch. This was not how he’d planned on going home with someone. He didn’t even have any classwork with him for something to do, but his brother did have a decent movie collection, so he resorts to that to avoid just staring at Professor Uchiha.

Tobirama manages to make it through two movies, more like one and a half as he wasn’t sure when his eyes had strayed back to his professor, before he can’t take it anymore. “Fuck it,” Tobirama grumbles as he crosses the room and shakes the older man again. “Professor!” Barely getting more than a groan, the Senju huffs in irritation as his eyes stray back to the ponytail that had taunted him throughout class today. Surely it would be more comfortable to rest with his hair down, Tobirama reasons, he only cared about his favorite professor’s comfort; it had nothing to do with how he was dying to know what those luscious black locks felt like. He wars with himself for another moment before he finally gives into the temptation and carefully removes the tie from the Uchiha’s hair.

As it turns out the older man’s hair is not only as soft as Tobirama had thought it would be, it is remarkably tangle free and felt like the finest silk between his fingers. Gods how he wished he could run his fingers through these locks again. Lightly digging his fingers into the professor’s scalp, Tobirama is surprised to hear the older man let out a content hum. Who would have guessed Professor Uchiha liked having his hair played with? Perhaps Tobirama could use that in the future to get what he wanted.

“Where...?” The groggy voice snaps Tobirama out of his pleasant daydream and he quickly, albeit carefully, pulls his hand back.

“Professor, are you awake now?” Tobirama asks, brushing the older man’s bangs out of his face so he can check how dilated the other’s pupils are.

“Senju?” Madara mutters, confusion clear in his tone as he struggles to remember what happened. “You...drugged me?”

“No!” Tobirama yelps, not wanting the gorgeous man to get the wrong impression, “I did a favor for my brother!”

“Hashirama drugged me?” Madara questions, carefully sitting up with his student’s help.

“No,” Tobirama sighs, running a hand through his hair, “someone else drugged you when you went to have a drink with my brother. Hashirama dealt with the person, but he was worried about you, so he asked me to bring you to his house and keep an eye on you until he got home. How are you feeling?”

“Confused,” Madara admits, running a hand through his hair, “didn’t I have my hair up?”

“The tie came loose when I got you here,” Tobirama lies, handing the strip of leather over to him, “I tried to tie it back but it has a mind of its own.”

“So you’ve been watching over me then?”

“Yes, is that okay?”

“Sure,” Madara shrugs, looking at his student thoughtfully, “you’re one of my more responsible students.”

“I didn’t realize you knew I existed,” Tobirama admits and the Uchiha chuckles, a grin lighting up his face.

“You’re Hashirama’s little brother, I recognized you the second you walked into my classroom,” Madara says, grin still fond, if not amused, “thankfully you’re nowhere near the disaster your brother was when we were in class together.”

“I’m insulted you thought I was,” Tobirama huffs, “Hashirama is an absolute buffoon. Though at least he knows when people are flirting with him, unlike a certain professor I have.”

“Oh I know when my students are flirting with me,” Madara snorts, rolling his eyes, “none of them are worth getting fired over.”

“Well there goes my shot of fucking you over your desk,” Tobirama jokes, flushing when he realizes what he’s just said. He’s about to quickly retract the statement, until he sees the blush dusting his professor’s cheeks and the considering look in his eyes.

“Does it have to be my desk?” Madara blurts and the Senju’s eyes widen, this night just kept getting better and better.

“You were drugged and unconscious for who knows how long,” Tobirama points out, “that would be taking advantage of you.”

“How noble of you, stupid, but noble,” Madara sighs, slumping back against the couch, “how about you come see me at the end of my office hours tomorrow? It’s Friday so no one will try and bug me and you can’t say I’m still being influenced.”

“You’re serious,” Tobirama mutters, and Professor Uchiha nods, making the Senju smirk, “as long as you wear your hair up.”

“Deal.”

Tobirama contemplates not showing up to Professor Uchiha’s office the next day, still not entirely convinced the professor had meant what he said, but decides it would be silly to pass up such a chance. Worst case scenario he’d pretend he was checking on his grade for the semester. As the Senju makes his way to his professor’s office he notes that the rest of the science department have either left for the weekend or are packing up. That wasn’t too surprising, Madara was one of the few that made his office hours Friday afternoon; most professors wanted to start the weekend as soon as they could.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d show up,” Madara comments as Tobirama shuts the door behind him, the Uchiha’s hair once more tied up in a high ponytail.

“I wasn’t sure if you were serious or not,” Tobirama admits with a shrug as he drops his backpack into the seat across from the older man, “for all I know this is a set up.”

“I hardly need you to come here to set you up, all I would need to do is tell Hashirama you took advantage of me inside his home.”

“I did no such thing!” Tobirama growls, slamming his hands down on the desk as he glares at the Uchiha, who just smirks.

“Who do you think Hashirama would believe?” Madara challenges with a raised eyebrow, “me, his best friend who was unconscious and drugged, or you, his brother with known morality issues?”

“The corpse thing was one time!” Tobirama snaps, grinding his teeth together to prevent anymore stupid confessions.

“My point stands,” Madara chuckles, “I have the advantage in this situation.”

“If you were just going to blackmail me why wait until today?” Tobirama forces out, the words bitter across his tongue.

“One, I didn’t want to jump you at Hashirama’s house, and two, you’re no longer one of my students now.”

“Wha-?” Tobirama’s eyes widen before he even finishes the question. Of course, this was a shortened course and the final project was due earlier in the week. Tobirama was willing to bet his final grade was already submitted to the university so, in the unlikely event they were caught, Madara wouldn’t lose his job. Suddenly all of Madara’s taunting made sense, he was waiting for his office hours to officially end. “So how are we going to do this Professor?”

“Fantasy for a fantasy?”

“The noble Professor Uchiha has a dirty fantasy about fucking one of his students?” Tobirama teases with a smirk, “I can’t wait to hear it.”

“You want to fuck me over my desk, I want you to blow me under it,” Madara mutters, pink dusting his cheeks.

Tobirama pretends to give the offer some thought, he would pretty much do anything to bend the Uchiha over his desk, so while blowjobs weren’t his favorite thing, it was definitely worth it. Not to the mention the thought of opening Madara up and fucking into a second orgasm was too good a treat to pass up. “I suppose that’s doable.”

“If only Hashirama could see his baby brother now.”

“First, I’m not his baby brother that’s Itama,” Tobirama states as he crawls under the large wooden desk, “and second if you bring Hashirama up again I’m going to bite you.”

“If you bite my dick you’re not going to fuck me,” Madara warns as he slides his chair back into place, trapping Tobirama between the back of the desk and his legs.

Tobirama rolls his eyes, Madara was leaving this room limping one way or another, only to frown when he realizes he doesn’t have the leverage to unzip Madara’s pants. “Are you going to whip your dick out or do I have to do everything?”

“So needy,” Madara chuckles even as he frees his already hard cock, revealing just how much he wants the Senju under his desk.

Instead of responding verbally Tobirama leans forward and takes Madara’s cock to the base, dragging a startled moan from the Uchiha. Just because this wasn’t Tobirama’s favorite technique, didn’t mean he wasn’t good at it thanks to his lack of a gag reflex.

“Oh fuck!” Madara snarls, thrusting forward as he grabs a fistful of white hair, “of course you’re good at this too.”

Tobirama chuckles at the comment, loving the whine he gets from Madara, before he slowly starts to bob his head. Just when Madara has a chance to adjust to the pace, Tobirama hums, curling his tongue around the underside as he pulls off with a wet pop. “So glad you approve of my skill,” Tobirama purrs, lightly nibbling on the older man’s length, “Professor.”

“Fucking tease,” Madara whimpers, trying to tug Tobirama back to where he wants him, but the former student just smirks as he continues his slow pace.

“I really need that A Professor,” Tobirama mutters, his lips brushing against Madara’s shaft as he speaks, “I’m willing to do whatever it takes.”

“Goddamn,” Madara curses, tightening his grip on Tobirama’s hair; he hadn’t expected the Senju to play his part so well. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Pretty please Professor?” Tobirama pushes his lips out in an exaggerated pout, “I’ll lose my scholarship without it.” He slowly takes the Uchiha back into his mouth, hollowing out his cheeks obscenely as his lips meet Madara’s pelvis.

“Fuck!” Madara snarls, bucking his hips up without meaning to, Tobirama looked like he belonged on the set of one of those cheap pornos.

Tobirama hums in encouragement, picking up speed as he does. Madara barely lasts another minute before he yanks Tobirama down harshly and his release crashes over him. The Senju jerks slightly, but he quickly recovers and swallows the cum, wiping his chin on Madara’s pant leg once he can move.

“Goddamn Tobirama,” Madara pants, leaning back in his chair, “that mouth of yours shouldn’t be legal.”

“You better not make me wait for my turn old man,” Tobirama teases, nudging the chair back until he can crawl out from under the desk. His knees and back ache a little from holding that position so long, but the arousal coursing through his veins makes it easy to ignore.

“Fuck you,” Madara grumbles, waving a hand thoughtlessly in a ‘get on with it’ motion.

Tobirama smirks as he lets his eyes trail over them man he’s desired for half a semester. When Madara’s eyes slip closed for a moment, Tobirama strikes, one hand grabbing that damn ponytail. Before Madara can react, Tobirama yanks him out of his chair and pushes him down on his desk in one swift movement.

“Damn!” Madara hisses, tired body protesting the sudden movement, “what the hell Senju?!”

“You’ve been very naughty Professor,” Tobirama mutters, draping himself over the older man’s back so he can whisper directly into his ear. “Always looking so fuckable in class...I should punish you, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Tobirama-!” Madara’s words are cut off by a moan when his hair is yanked, hard.

“Hush now Professor, this isn’t one of your lectures,” Tobirama continues as he straightens up to look at the enticing sight before him. Madara looked even better spread across his own desk than Tobirama had thought he would. “You have no idea how distracting you are, do you? I think it’s about time someone fucked some sense into you.”

“This isn’t funny Senju” Madara states, getting his arms under him so he can push back against his former student. “You need to leave.”

“None of that now,” Tobirama tuts, yanking the Uchiha’s arms behind his back. Realizing Madara wants to play that kind of game, Tobirama smirks as he uses the man’s own hair to tie his wrists in place.

“Bastard,” Madara grumbles, tugging experimentally at his arms, only to moan at the burn in his scalp; his hair would hate him for this later, but at the moment Madara didn’t care.

“That’s better,” Tobirama purrs, leaning forward to suck a hickey on the back of Madara’s neck; it would be easily hidden by the man’s hair, but that wasn’t the point. “Now let’s get to the real reason you’re everyone’s favorite teacher,” Tobirama mutters, removing the older man’s belt and shoving his pants to the ground. “No underwear, how risque.”

“Fuck you,” Madara mutters, whimpering when his student’s hands roughly grope his ass, “I’ll fail you for this you brat.”

“Unlikely,” Tobirama chuckles, leaning over the professor to grab his backpack and drop it behind the desk. He lets Madara wonder what he’s doing for a moment before he slips a now lubed finger into the Uchiha. “I’m going to fuck you so hard Professor that you’ll be addicted to my cock.”

“You’ll be expelled for this,” Madara spits, even as he moans and thrusts back, impaling himself further on the invading finger. “You’ve just ruined your life, hope it’s worth it.”

“It’s so cute you think the university will take your side,” Tobirama chuckles, quickly working a second finger into Madara, “when the Senju family are their biggest donors. The only one that will get in trouble is you, Professor.”

“I’m not the one fucking his teacher over his desk,” Madara groans, biting back a whimper when a third finger slips in almost too soon, “the department head no less.”

“Titles mean nothing to the university as long as they get paid,” Tobirama chuckles, curling his fingers until the older man cries out, “you’re mine and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“Bastard,” Madara whines as the pale fingers slip free.

“I’ll make it good for you,” Tobirama promises, freeing and coating his cock in lube before he roughly thrusts into the bound man under him. Madara practically howls, but the Senju knows it's more from pleasure than pain.

“Fuck!” Madara snarls, body jerking as Tobirama immediately sets a brutal pace. Instead of getting him away from the cock sawing him in two, all Madara manages to do is tighten the knot of hair around his wrists, forcing his head back at an awkward angle.

“You feel so good Professor,” Tobirama moans, digging his nails into Madara’s ass, wanting to leave behind as many marks as he can. “I think you missed your true calling in life.”

“I swear-ah!” A particularly hard jab to his prostate has Madara choking back a sob of pleasure, “I’m gonna kick your ass!”

“Are you threatening me Professor?” Tobirama chuckles, grabbing at the base of Madara’s ponytail and yanking until he’s sure the older man can’t breath, “I’m sure I misheard you.”

“Senju…!” Madara gasps, stars dancing behind his eyes as Tobirama pulls him back to meet his next thrust.

“Say my name Professor,” Tobirama growls, picking up the speed of his thrusts.

Madara tries to fight it, but between the abuse to his prostate and the lack of air, his brightest student’s name tumbles out. “T-Tobirama…”

“Such a good boy,” Tobirama purrs, returning both hands to Madara’s hips so he can yank the older man back to meet each increasingly brutal thrust.

Madara greedily sucks in air as his head lolls forward as far as it can. The chemistry professor knew he wouldn’t last much longer, no one had managed to play his body as well as Tobirama was in a long time. “Tobirama...please...I-I...need…”

“Is this what you need Professor?” Tobirama mutters, shifting one hand to grab Madara’s leaking cock in a firm grip. “Do you need to come again?”

“Please!” Madara begs, too far gone to care how pathetic he must look.

“Anything for my favorite professor,” Tobirama chuckles, stroking the hard flesh in time with his thrusts. Madara makes it half a dozen thrusts before he comes with a wordless cry, his release splattering the top of the desk. Tobirama moans as the muscles around his cock grip him like a vice, pressing in as deep as he can before his orgasm hits.

“Shit,” Madara pants, whining as he is pressed down harder into the desk, his own cum staining his shirt.

“Your ass is even better than I thought it would be,” Tobirama chuckles, using one hand to keep Madara pressed down while his other hand rummages through his backpack again. Finding what he’s looking for Tobirama smirks and carefully pulls out of Madara. “I brought you a present Professor.”

“Wha-?!” Madara has to bite back a sob of pained pleasure as he feels something hard stretch his entrance open farther.

“I would hate for you to make a mess in your office,” Tobirama continues like Madara hasn’t spoken, firmly pressing the glass plug the rest of the way in. The Senju hums as he admires his handing work, one finger lightly tracing the edge of the toy.

“Enough,” Madara whimpers as the sinful finger pushes inside, his over sensitized nerves burning at the new stretch, “please.”

Tobirama just hums in agreement as he retracts his hand and fixes Madara’s pants for him. Carefully freeing the older man’s wrists, Tobirama runs a soothing hand the tangled locks of hair. “Hush now Professor,” the Senju mutters, enjoying the whimper when he gently sets Madara into his office chair, “I’ll take care of you.”

Madara can only grumble in response, too tired to offer much of a complaint. He’s vaguely aware of Tobirama cleaning off his desk as he drifts in and out of consciousness. A sudden weight in his lab draws him back to his office with a pained grunt as the plug is forced deeper. “What are you doing?” Madara demands, glaring at the younger man straddling his lap, “our deal is done.”

“I wasn’t kidding when I said you were mine now,” Tobirama says, bringing a collar into view, “now the question is, will you accept it?”

Madara stares at the collar for a long moment, realizing that Tobirama wanted him for more than a one time fling. That thought shouldn’t warm his heart nearly as much as it did, but it had been so long since he’d had a good dom. Instead of responding verbally, Madara just tilts his chin up, offering Tobirama free access to his neck.

Tobirama grins as he carefully fastens his collar around Madara’s beautifully pale neck; he’d never given out his collar before. “Thank you,” he mutters, using the collar to pull Madara down into their first kiss.

“No, thank you,” Madara chuckles after Tobirama pulls back just enough that their lips brush as he speaks. When the Senju grins stupidly like his older brother, Madara rolls his eyes, tugging Tobirama back in for another kiss.