#her chewing on her necklace while working.........mood

[dollieguts1010]

DOGDAY HEADCANONS

• He's 13 years old

• He's Omnisexual and Polyamorous

• His pronouns are He/Him/His

• He has ADHD

• He's in love with Craftycorn

• He's best friends are Catnap and Bobby Bearhug

• Kickin is the a brother to him

• He's the oldest in the group

• He's a mixed breed of Cocker Spaniel, Springer Spaniel, and German Shepherd

• He's allergic to chocolate

• He's constantly carrying at least 2 or 3 epi-pens just in case if he eats any chocolate

• There's been a couple of times where Dogday has almost died because he accidentally ate chocolate

• He often stims a lot because of his ADHD

(he usually stims by barking, woofing, and howling, moving and jumping around, constantly wagging his tail, panting a lot, and biting is chew toys)

• He's known Kickin since he was a puppy

• He loves vanilla milkshake

• His favorite food is bacon cheeseburgers and curly fries

• He has Thantophobia (the fear of losing someone you love) and secretly has Autophobia (the fear of being abandoned)

• His father died when he was 10 years old

• He's scared of thunderstorms

• He was there for Bubba when he was morning the death of his parents

• Even though he's a leader of the group, he thinks that Bubba should be the leader instead of him

• He has permanent happy face

• His tail is constantly wagging

• He will do ANYTHING for his friends, no matter the cost. He's not afraid to get in a physical or verbal fight for his friends

• He's a bit naive when it comes to trusting strangers

• He tends to have a bit of a problem of being a bit of a people pleaser and not saying "NO"

• He has a small omnisexual flag right above his bed

• He was to have a crush on all of his friends

• He may be constantly in a cheerful mood however, he gets easily stressed out when his friends fight. He will literally will stay up all night trying to fix the problem

• He rarely ever yells at his friends

• He doesn't really like cussing, he only cusses when he's PISSED.

• He made all of his friends pendants necklaces

• He doesn't like crying in front of his friends because he doesn't want them to be worried (just like Bubba)

• He only cries when he's in his bedroom by himself while cuddling his little bone plushie

• He knows how to drive and has his driver's license, even though he's only 13 years old

• Whenever he's going on a car ride he'll stick his head out the window and stick out his tongue

• He loves going on roadtrips with his friends

• Him, Bubba, and Kickin help out Picky with farm work

• He let's the girls put makeup on him and doll him up

• He likes peanutbutter cookies

• He taught Kickin how to ride a skateboard

• He love fireworks however, he hates how loud they can be

• His favorite sports are basketball, football, and tennis

• Him and Bobby make friendship bracelets for everyone

• He has a rainbow bracelet that has all of his friends pendants on it and he wears that thing EVERYWHERE

• He likes helping out Bobby with her makeup

• His sun necklace was gifted to him by his father

• His sun necklace glows in the dark

• Sometimes he'll go to the store and buy Bubba some new books and stem toys

• He likes to draw with Crafty

• He likes doing arts and crafts with Crafty

• He likes watching Crafty painting or drawing

• He's constantly complicating Crafty's artwork

• He has a special box that he puts all of Crafty's artwork in

• He loves braiding, brushing, and styling Crafty's hair

• He likes to watch anime and disney movies with Crafty

• Him, Kickin, and Bobby are the personal cheerleaders in the group

• Him and Bobby are the group therapist

• His fur is RIDICULOUSLY SOFT.

(imagine petting a silky cloud. that's pretty much what Dogday's fur feels like)

• He's a total social butterfly! He can make new friends with ease

• He's also a social magnet like- whenever he's out in public people tend to notice him and wants to talk to him

• He's multilingual and he knows sign language

• He's a amazing singer and dancer

• He's not afraid to sing and dance in front of his friends

• He likes all genres of music

• He likes reading comic books

• He gets incredibly sensitive when someone brings up his father

• He has an amazing relationship with his mother

• He likes helping out his mother with cooking and baking

• His favorite activity to do with his mother is painting and playing games

• He may be a cute little doggy but once he realizes he's in danger, he's no longer cute. He'll bite, scratch, scream, and bark at you. Until he has the chance to run away

• He loves flowers! Every time someone gives a flower he'll have a massive goofy smile on his face while blushing a little bit

• He loves giving and receiving compliments (he doesn't often expect to receive compliments but whenever he does get complimented, he gets very excited)

• When he gets complimented, His pupils will dilate, he will have the biggest smile on his face, and his tail will start wagging like crazy

• He likes hugging his friends as tight as he can but if they don't like being touched then he will respect their boundaries

• If his ears are in the way, he'll just put them in a ponytail

• Sometimes when it's a full Moon he'll go outside and howl at the Moon and sometimes Kickin will join him to not make him feel left out

• He likes playing frisbee with Kickin

• He likes to go to the beach with Kickin

• He helps Kickin film his at-home action movies and sometimes even joins in

• Has a great relationship with Charlotte (Kickin's mother) and sees her as his second mother

• He likes hosting sleepovers

• He great at playing the acoustic guitar

• He loves the summer time

• He often comforts Catnap when he has a nightmare

• He likes playing tag with Hoppy

• He does his best to cheer people up

• Just like any other dog, he will sniff a potential new friend

• He likes getting headpats and being called a good boy, just like any other dog

(don't be weird about it)

• His father made him a plush bone toy that he still sleeps with at night

• He often has nightmares about his father's death or about his friends being murdered in brutal ways

• He owns 3 different kinds of skateboards and 2 different kinds of rollerblades

• Every once in awhile he likes to do this thing that he calls "Reverse pick-pocketing" basically, if he notices that someone is a little upset or that somebody doesn't have enough money and they really want to buy something, he'll slip a 5 or 10 bucks in their pocket or wallet/purse when they're not looking. He likes to see how happy they get when they realize that they have extra money on them, He's done this a few times and so far he hasn't been caught... yet..

• Each wall in his clubhouse is covered in picture frames of his friends

• He sorta freaked out when he realized he was in love with Craftycorn

that's all for now!

*I will add more later*

[tragicknown]

!    *    ,    (kathryn hahn,  fourty - nine,  cis - female,  she/her)  !    *    ,      hey,  did  you  see  CELESTE ROSE  unloading  their  boxes  from  the  moving  truck?  i  heard  they  are  49  years  old  and  work  as  a  OWNER   at   FULL MOON BOOK SHOP.  they  totally  remind  me  of  RUNNING UP THAT HILL (A DEAL WITH GOD) by  KATE BUSH,  ORNATE OLD FASHION RINGS  and  A SHELF OF METHODICALLY CATEGORIZED BOOKS.  they’ll  probably  hang  out  at  FULL MOON BOOK SHOP  the  most  if  you  were  looking  for  them.

basics:

full name: Celeste Eleanor Rose

nicknames: Cel

gender: Cis-female

pronouns: She/Her

sexuality: Homosexual

aesthetics: Lips that don’t know how to lie, a loopy smile and an honest heart, autumn leaves beginning to fall, long hair pulled into a braid, the smell of blown out candles, old wine corks and empty champagne flute, you're your own independence

age: Fourty-nine

date of birth: April 22, 1975

zodiac sign: Taurus

residence: Currently resides in Dauntridge, Oregon inside of an old brick house with her two teenage children and an elder golden retriever named Maggie

occupation: Owner of Full Moon Book Shop

appearance:

faceclaim: Kathryn Hahn

voice claim: Kathryn Hahn

height: 5'5"

eyes: Blue

hair: Light brown, falls wildly around her face

piercings: Earlobes

tattoos: None

other distinguishing features: Other than Cel's long, light brown hair, she has no distinctive attributes upon recognizing her

style: Classic, high fashion

personality:

traits:  Affectionate, Assertive, Cordial, Debonair, Punctual, Vehement

mental health: Decent, endures often anxiety but is treated with medication and breathing exercises

physical health: Well, there are no faults in Celeste's physical health

likes: New movies, chocolate chips, rainy days, the smell of old books, calm rivers, feeling the warm sand between her toes, singing loudly in her car, homemade mac and cheese, midday naps

dislikes: The texture of Styrofoam, liars, funerals, lingering scene of cigarettes, stepping on gum, mayonnaise, piles of laundry, muddy footprints on the wooden floors, having her picture taken

fears: Abandonment, dolls, betrayal from a loved one

phobias: Arachnophobia

hobbies: Baking, crossword puzzles, flower arranging, reading, scrapbooking, crocheting, writing

pet peeves: Drivers who don't use a turn signal, chewing loudly/while talking, hypocrites people who stick their used gum just about anywhere, when people ask you questions during the movie while you're trying to watch

family:

mother: Amelia Rose (neé Williams)

father: David Rose

siblings: Asher Rose; brother, Bailey Rose; sister

birth order: First

spouse / lover: Miles Baker; Husband (Divorced)

children: Millicent Blake (daughter, 16), Amelia Blake (daughter, 12)

pets: Maggie, an elder golden retriever

faves:

ice cream flavor: Cookie dough

time of the day / night: Night, around 10pm

weather: Cloudy, rainy

breakfast food: Pancakes with tons of syrup

dinner food: Italian, a lover of pasta

colors: Warm colors, orange and brown

music: Typically enjoys 80s music but is really liking current indie music such as Florence + The Machine, The Neighbourhood, alt-J and more

other random stuff:

a cherished item: A generational pendant that she wears upon a chain necklace that has been passed down to the women in her family - She will be giving it to her daughter one day

first love: Tommy Hays, her junior prom date in high school

usual mood: Content

1 thing they want to do / experience before they die: Visit more of Europe

defining moments: The birth of her two children

· The first daughter to David and Amelia Rose, Celeste was a child with a promising future. Her family was average, but always expected the best of her. She was put on a pedestal. It was never a place that she wanted to be, however. When her brother and sister were born, she felt as if the hype of her existence, finally, dwindled down and, truthfully, she was able to live a bit more peacefully. That didn't mean she didn't excel in all that she did. · She graduated high school as the top of her class, got a scholarship to college and happily graduated with a business degree. She always had hopes to open up her own book shop, however, in her time at college Cel met Miles Blake and they married after graduating. Her dreams were pushed to the side as she focused on making sure that her husband, Miles, achieved his. They were together for 20 years, had two daughters and lived a relatively happy life.

· However, Celeste knew that she was a closeted lesbian ever since her late-twenties. Trying to stay the perfect daughter, wife and mother - she dealt with the sexuality issue for a long, long time. It was up until Cel was forty-five when she, finally, decided to file for divorce as she was no longer happy and unable to feel fulfilled in her marriage. It was a messy divorce because it was rather sudden, but it was something that she needed to do. The kids decided to live with Celeste, accepting their mother's decision. Though, she feels terrible for changing their lives drastically.

· Their move to Oregon wasn't sudden as it took her a couple of years to decide it for her and her daughters, but as an empty shop was for sale and the perfect house was on the market - it was the perfect idea. She opened Full Moon Book Shop on Wilma Lane and the place has been a thriving business ever since. The new space and location was a good idea for her family as they're content and able to start anew. She is truly hoping that she is able to live the life she deserves.

[solar-ships]

Stimming HCs

Moira - Needs to stim pretty much constantly - she requires that Constant Small Movement - but she’s a lot more subtle about it in public. - Taps her nails on things, wiggles her fingers, does raptor hands. Used to stretch her bad arm almost compulsively, until she realized she just made it worse. - Likes to find good textures and run her fingers over them - it’s a good, subtle stim. She loves anything with grooves that she can trace. - Vocal stims, repeating phrases to herself, usually in Irish. She tends to annoy herself a little with this. - Taps pencils, and sometimes chews on them without realizing it. - Bounces her legs in private, taps her feet if she’s in a more public space.

Tyrian (TW for s*lf h*rm)

- His tail satisfies 70% percent of his stimming needs - the thing is pretty much always moving, responding to his moods, and when he’s sitting down, he tends to bounce it against whatever surface he’s sitting on. - Sharpening his blades is a good stim, he likes the sound. - Picks at scabs, bites his claws and runs his fingers over old scars. He’s a canon masochist, so he’s got some self-harming stims. Watts tries to get him to stop, but... - When upset/agitated/close to a meltdown, he paces, moves his hands a lot, claws at himself and lashes his tail. - Chews on things, does the raptor hands (again, canon), scratches at anything just for the satisfaction of cutting into them...

Blake - Like with Tyrian, she stims a lot with her tail and sometimes her ears, and their subconscious responses to her emotions satisfy a lot of that need for stimulation. She also runs her hand through her fur or rubs her own ears sometimes. - Growling. It’s a vocal stim of sorts, she loves the way it makes her chest rattle. - Lots of scent stims. She loves the smell of books, some flowers, and tea (just because it’s got comforting associations.) This also means she will bury herself in her loved ones’ beds because it smells like them. - Fiddles with the corners of papers when she’s reading - she’s also the kid who used to doodle in class. - If given the choice, she will not sit normally in chairs.

Jinx (mild s*lf h*rm TW) - Big, loud, jittery stims, like she’s got too much energy to burn off (she has). Bounces up and down, flaps her arms, bounces her leg. Allergic to sitting still. - Auditory stimmer, whether it’s listening to music on repeat or just finding a background noise to focus on. She can’t stand complete silence. - Chews on stuff - will usually chew on her lip, but substitutes it with bubblegum or hard candy if she’s bitten to the point where it hurts. Also bites her fingernails. - Traces the clouds on her tattoos with her fingers. - Likes to rock back and forth, both as a happy stim and as a self-soothing one. - Doodles on everything.

Caitlyn - Has kind of conditioned herself not to stim much because it’s not “ladylike”/socially acceptable, so her stims are pretty subtle unless she’s in private. - She needs to stim when she’s thinking, and usually ends up pacing. - The thing she does in Arcane when she spins her gun. Very satisfying, but she tends to catch herself and put it down because you shouldn’t stim with your weapons. - As if she doesn’t fiddle with her rifle when she’s holding it... - Will toy with her jewelry whenever she’s wearing any. - Scent stims! She wears perfume for that very reason. - Her favorite/most common one is tapping her pencil when she’s working.

Jon - Vocal stims. He’ll repeat phrases from his statements, if there’s one line that stood out to him he’ll hyperfocus on it for the next few days. - Picks clothes for how they feel - big coats and soft knitted shirts that he can drown in, long swishy skirts, and jewelry that he can stim with. - Speaking of stimmy jewelry - chewy necklaces! - He’s also got a tangle stim toy that he plays with while he’s working. - His favorite stim is anything that makes clicky noises - pressing buttons or, even better, putting on and taking off the lid of... anything, really, over and over (projection).

Pidge - Pidge is another subtler stimmer, with the opinion that it’s “no one’s business”. He finds stims he can weave into his daily life. - There’s a satisfaction to just working with laptops - the glow of the screen, the sound and feel of tapping keyboards is just very satisfying to him. - He loves pressure stims. Big jackets. Tight clothes with a binder underneath. The heaviest weighted blanket he could find. - He also loves soft, fluffy textures, and he sleeps with a plushie - a slightly oversized teddy bear. He loves to just run his hand over its fur. - He’s very protective of his things, and this goes double for anything he stims with.

Jonny - Big stims, loud stims, all over the place. He Does Not Care if he’s being annoying. - Will tap his boots or even jump up and down if he’s wound up. Paces and kicks things. - Music is a huge stim for him, and yeah, listening to it is good, but singing? He’ll start randomly singing when he’s doing literally anything else. - Likes the feeling and sound of playing cards. Will play solitaire when bored, or just idly shuffle a deck. - Paints his nails with obscene amounts of nailpolish and waits for it to chip so he can run his fingers over it. - Stims by fiddling with his gun. He’s immortal, it’s fine.

Nastya - She also enjoys music stims, but she’s a little less over-the-top about it. Hums to herself, sings (sometimes in Russian) when she thinks no one’s listening, and re-listens to their recordings. - Dresses for stimming purposes. The heavy coat is a pressure stim, and she loves the sound her boots make when she’s walking around. - Fidgets with the fabric of whatever she’s wearing, too. - Plays with her hair, or Jonny’s. When her hair is shorter than shoulder length, she likes to shake her head and feel it swish around.

[slutabed]

wtf why was backstory so good

[erodasfishtacos]

Adjustments

When Y/N is getting tired of staying at home with the baby while Harry tours.

word count: 5k

contains: sexual content, language, a dash of angst

It was still early but Harry didn’t mind. When he was on tour he craved sleep like no other. To be in his bed, spooned around his love, and no alarm set.

However, the deep desire for sleep is just a faraway thought now because he’d rather be sleep deprived and wake up to his curly-haired baby any given day.

He looks to you. Mouth slightly open, face stress-free, and peaceful. Harry hated coming home from tour to see the bags of exhaustion under your eyes from taking care of the baby all by yourself.

He constantly had to swallow back guilt. He tried to do everything to make it up when he was home.

Harry didn’t find touring as exciting and fun as he use to. He sometimes counts down the tour dates until he’s home.

Sometime he can’t wait for the concert to wrap up so he can sneak in a quick FaceTime before you lot head off to bed.

Sasha was two, her birthday near days away, and Y/N had been running around like a mad-woman trying to make sure her party would be perfect.

Y\N sometimes held herself to the exceptions of other celebrities wives. Ballon arches, custom cookies, and beautiful decorations.

However, unlike other celebrities, you did this all yourself. No event planner, nobody except Anne and Gemma.

Harry wants you to sleep as much as possible and allow you the luxury he gets on tour. Sleeping in until noon sometimes in the empty, cold hotel room with nothing else to do.

He can hear Sasha babbling incessantly from her little bed. The little yellow railings preventing her from falling out or escaping.

Harry heaves himself off the bed, tugging on some sweatpants that had been thrown off hurriedly when you’d told him you’d been wet for him since he walked in the door last night.

“Hi, hi little love,” Harry murmurs as he opens the door to her bedroom. The yellow flowers hand-painted from the wall setting the theme for the room.

Sasha was a good baby and an ever better toddler. However, almost as a little teenager, she sure did have her mood swings. They weren’t quite out of the terrible twos stage yet.

She wanted her mom as she stood there.

“No, mummy,” Sasha whines, tugging on Harry’s cross necklace with force after he scooped her up.

“Hey, we don’t do that. Remember we treat people with kindness.”

After a promise of chocolate chips in her pancakes, she agrees to help Harry cook you breakfast. 

It was messy and his bare chest was covered in flour. Not quite sure how the little girl had gotten it into her curls but they were managing.

Harry loved watching Sasha play with the cooking utensil. Smacking whisk around, looking quizzically at a spatula. 

It made Harry want to buy her a little play kitchen. He was surprised they didn’t already have one. He thinks they might have on in their New York City apartment that they haven’t traveled to recently.

He makes a point while Sasha is chewing at the pancakes to search to find one. He finds a same-day pickup at a local toy store and orders it.

That’s one thing he loved about making so much money. He could spoil you and the baby, his family with everything and anything they want or need.

Y/N always struggled with accepting gifts from Harry but as they years went on and they got married and combined bank accounts. (well she brought a hefty three thousand to the marriage, he graciously gave her full-access to his money). 

A few weeks after your wedding, when you went to an ATM to get twenty pounds out for a cash-only restaurant and when the receipt said you two had six-hundred thousand and some change in just one of your CHECKING account - well you nearly almost fainted.

You had been worried about the three pound service fee before seeing that.

Harry could sometimes get ahead of himself. He’s had disposable money since he was sixteen. Y/N would sometimes hum, asking if he really needs a fifteen-thousand dollar wool Gucci coat.

Y/N would make it a point that she doesn’t want Sasha to grow to be materialistic and spoiled. So Harry was scolded every once in a while when he gave into Sasha’s puppy dog eyes.

Maybe not the best decision but he planned to set it up when you were out for lunch this afternoon with a friend. Hopefully, you wouldn’t notice? If he strategically put it in the playroom.

“Mmm, what’s all this?” You murmur, tying your silk robe at the front. Just enough cleavage showing that Harry feels a twitch in his joggers. Sue him, basically everything his wife did turned him on.

“Pancakes, mummy!” Sasha giggles, syrup coating her cheeks and fingers. “Kissy?” Her dad had taught her that.

“Yes baby,” you agree, leaning in to press a kiss to her soft curls, avoiding her sticky mess. 

“Kissy?” 

You look up to your pouting husband with identical absurdly wild curls from bed. 

“Spoiled, you lot,” you tell him before padding over to him and pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

Forever the horny teenager, his large hands finds your bum and pull you closer - deepening the kiss.

“Miss you s’much on tour, all I think about,” he whispers into your mouth. “Your tits, your cun-“

“Harry!” You laugh, smacking at his chest, “Can’t talk like that in front of the baby!”

“She didn’t hear,” he grumbles, giving your arse one last squeeze, “Tonight.”

“Tonight,” you agree back, ignoring the pinch of arousal. 

—-

Sasha was putting up a fight when she realized that you were leaving without her. Grabbing at your leg as you tugged on a Gucci sneaker.

“I’ll be back soon, Sash,” you assure her but to no avail.

Her cheeks ruddy red and splotched. Tears staining them as she wails dramatically at the top of her little lungs. 

“I don’t know if I should go,” You sigh as Harry wrestles her tiny body off of you so you don’t trip.

“No baby, you need a break. She can’t hold you hostage,” Harry laughs as Sasha wriggles a little in his arms.

“Call me if you need me to come home.”

“I’ll be fine, now go, have a mimosa for me,” Harry smiles down at his daughter who is staring at you like you’ve just killed her beloved pet.

You can’t help but giggle at the glare, “so scary, missy. I’ll see you soon, I love you.”

Sasha buries her nose into Harry’s neck. Her sobs more sad than angry at this point. Which makes your heartbreak a little.

—-

Sasha was getting impatient with her father. As he attempted to figure out how to screw on the oven door to the overcomplicated design.

She occasionally ran off with a piece he needed so it took much longer than he’d thought. But this thing was sophisticated, you pour water into a little tub and it runs through the faucet like a real sink.

Sasha gave her father a wide smile when he had finally told her it was all done. He helped fill the little shopping cart with plastic fruit and veggies.

She was babbling to herself happily, occasionally making sure her dad was still in the room with her.

Harry had grabbed his journal off the kitchen table and was scribbling down mismatched lyrics about how much love he was filled with.

His last two albums were nearly just songs about you. The next one was definitely going to include tracks about his baby.

When he hears the alarm sound and get shut off, he knows your home and he feels a little twinge of anxiety in his stomach.

Distraction? That should work right?

“Hi baby,” Harry greets, planting a kiss on your lips before squatting to untie your sneakers for you.

“Well hello there!” You look around surprised to not see your daughter toddling to you as well. “Is bug sleeping?”

Harry shakes his head and rubs the back of his neck, “Um, no. Just playing in the playroom right now.”

“Was she good?” You asks, noticing he’s changed clothes. He loved to laze around in joggers if he could. “Did you go out?”

“Just for coffee,” he covers, technically - he did grab a coffee for himself at a drive-thru. “How was lunch?”

“Good, mimosas were shit so I only had one. Missed you guys too much. So glad your home,” you sigh into his chest, basking in his tight arms around you.

“Only 73 more concerts to go,” Harry replies.

He can feel your shoulders tense at his lame attempt of a joke. It wasn’t funny to you, not in the slightest. 

“Just 73, huh?” You shoot back, untangling yourself from his grip. “Just another eight months away from your wife and baby.”

“Love...” Harry begins, swallowing hard. He was just as emotional as you when it came to it. 

You shake your head, swiping at the stray tear, “Just forget it,” you huff before trekking off to see your daughter.

Harry is cautiously trailing behind you with a bowling ball of nerves in his belly. 

When you walk into the playroom and see the new kitchen set - you stand nearly frozen in the doorway.

“Mummy! Mumma look at what daddy got me!” She chirps, standing to come to you. You easily lift her up and accept the plastic apple she hands to you proudly. 

You feel a tightness in your throat, “it’s so nice, baby.”

“Nice,” she repeats, “come play, mumma.”

“I just got home, give me a few minutes and I’ll be back in,” you promise with a kiss before placing her back down.

She seems satisfied with your answer and scurries back to where she had placed her babydoll on the countertop - feeding it.

“Can we please talk in the kitchen?” You asks, trying your best to keep your voice level in front of your daughter.

Harry dejectedly nods and follows you into the kitchen, dragging his boot-clad feet a little. 

“Look, I know your mad, lovie. But I just got the idea and didn’t think too much about it. Know y’don’t want to spoil her but-“

“Do you not listen?” You ask harshly.

He looks at you dumbfounded. Unsure of the question. It sounded like it was a trick question.

“You’re unbelievable!” You whisper-shout so Sasha doesn’t hear.

Harry feels himself getting defensive, “You’re tha’ mad about a bloody toy?  I’m her father allowed to buy her things too!”

“No, Harry. It’s not about that. It seems like your so busy with your job that you just tune me out on our calls.”

Harry’s brow furrows. That wasn’t true in the slightest. It was the highlight of his day to hear your voice and how it went at home.

“That’s bullshit and you know it!” Harry snaps, his voice a little louder. 

“Go into the storage room off the side of the garage.”

He gives you a confused look but obliges, after trailing through your maze of a house. He reaches the large extra room.

When he opens the door, his heart sinks. He immediately knows why you’re so upset with him.

A beautiful, hand-painted kitchen set is sat with a large pink bow in the room. The hutch saying in cursive, “Sasha’s Kitchen.”

It was her favorite colors - blue and yellow- with painted images of all her favorite characters like Peppa Pig and Blue from Blue’s Clues.

He remembers how excited you were on the phone that night - when you revealed her third birthday present and how perfect the artist had made it.

Harry had been listening -truthfully- but he was also nearly asleep after two encores of Kiwi onstage and a meet and greet backstage.

He felt like shit now. Disappointed in himself for ruining this surprise he knows you were looking forward to giving her in a mere few days.

But the excitement of another kitchen set surely would be lackluster now. 

“Baby, m���so sorry,” Harry says quietly, with guilt bubbling in his throat. “I was listening. I just...I forgot.”

“Nothing we can do about it now it,” you bite out. Disappointed at the ruin surprised making you prickle with anger towards your forgetful husband.

Harry begins to apologize once again but you don’t let him, “I need to put her down for a nap.”

— 

You drift off as well in your bed- taking advantage of Sasha being asleep in the next room over.

Harry doesn’t quite know how to fix this situation. He’s much too embarrassed to call his mum or sister who would just give him another earful.

He felt like being on tour has been mucking everything up. He loved his job, most days. But days like today - he wishes to never see a recording studio or microphone again.

Harry’s pondering all this when he hears a cry from the baby’s room. 

Sasha is stood, bleary-eyes with a sad frown as her father enters. 

“Sweet pea, what’s the sad face for?” He hums as he tucks her into the curve of his slim hip. Bringing her down onto the main level so you aren’t awoken.

“Daddy, kitchen?” She sniffles, pointing towards her playroom.

He shakes his head. Deciding the least he can do is bathe her so you wouldn’t need to later. She still had remnants of fruit pouch in her cheeks.

“No, darling. S’bath time. Then you can play,” he boots her nose. Snatching some clean baby clothes from where they’re folded and waited to be put away on the coffee table.

“No no no,” she whimpers angrily, shaking her head and smacking her arm against her father’s tattooed chest.

“Sasha Anne, no hitting, absolutely not,” Harry uses his firm father’s voice that he didn’t have to pull out very often.

“No bath, daddy, no!” She wails with all the dramatics of an A-List actor. 

“Hey, mumma’s sleeping. We cannot yell,” her father hushes her as he trails into the bathroom.

“Mean daddy!” She exclaims as he wrestles her into the tub. Splashing the water and wriggling away everytime he tries to cup water over her head to rid her of the shampoo.

“I know, I know, so mean,” he acknowledges sympathetically. A headache arising in the front of his skull from his baby’s high pitch noises and shouts.

After another fight into clothes, she’s still not happy when she’s sat in front of her kitchen. She throws the plastic toys around and whining anytime Harry moves an inch.

He’s feeling a little overwhelmed if he’s honest. With his worry about your precious argument and the unusual tactics of your toddler - he was stressed out. 

“Binky,” Sasha looks expectantly at her father.

Oh, good idea. She loves that.

Harry can’t find any lying around like usual so he digs through the drawers around the living room until he finds one.

After cleaning it off, he hands it to her and she pops it in her mouth happily. Her attention now direction back towards her new toy.

He let out a sigh of relief. He wasn’t quite sure how you did this alone so much of the time.

—

 When you finally wake from a fitful nap, you hear noise from the playroom. You’re still extremely frustrated with your husband but it’s less intense. Until...

Until you walk in and Sasha turns around, smiling around a binky you surely thought you’d thrown away.

Sasha was getting too old for a pacifier - even though she was just using it when she was really upset or at night.

You’d been binky-free for three weeks. And all the crying and tears from your daughter where now meaningless.

“Where did she get that pacifier?” You grit out.

You had told him multiple times you were weaning her off of it.

“She was fussy. I gave it to her, tha’ alright?” He asks cluelessly.

“Harry! I’ve told you so so many times that I’d been weaning her off of it. She just stopped crying about it a week ago!”

“I told you about this - just like the kitchen. God, you get so goddamn wrapped up in your career that you forget important things like this!”

“Baby...” Harry whimpers, hands up in surrender. “I keep, I keep messing up. I’m - I don’t know where my mind is.”

“I’ll tell you were your mind is, Harry. In the countries your traveling to, the concerts your performing at. You promised me...you fucking promised when we started trying for a baby this stuff wouldn’t happen!!”

Harry’s face crumples, “yo-you’re my everything, lovie. You and bug. None of this means anything without you. I’ll quit music, never write another lyric or sing another note if that’s what you want from me.”

He meant that fully heartedly too.

When he wrote If I Could Fly and write the lyrics, “I’ll give up everything, just ask me to.”

The fans, the producers, you - don’t truly know how much he was being truthful in the lyrics.

“I would never ask you to do that. I want you to do what you love but I want you to follow through for your family!”

At your raised tons, Sasha begins to whine, looking with wide, concerned eyes.

“Mummy?”

With that, you scoop her up. “M’going to your mums. I’ll be back later.”

Harry watches anxiously as you pack Sasha’s bag. He feels useless as he hands your her fruit pouches and crackers from the pantry.

As you snatch the car keys from the entry tables, Harry asks in a near whisper, “What’s going on? I’m so lost.”

“I’m lost too. I jus-just can’t keep doing this. It’s too hard for you to be away from us like this. I feel like a single mom sometimes.”

With that, you’re out the door and on your way to your mother-in-laws. 

For the first time ever, Harry had a fleeting thought that you’re going to divorce him. He knows it’s not just about the toy and the pacifier.

He hasn’t been home enough. As much as he tries, the FaceTimes don’t make the distance and time apart any easier. 

You have all the responsibility of this little human and your heart twinges on days you’re missing you husband and you constantly at met with his little replica.

Harry feels like he’s going to have a panic attack. He’s only had a handful in his lifetime but this one was intense.

He grabs his phone and dials the number to his best friend. He really needed a shoulder to cry on right now.

“Hey mate! What’s good, big boy?” The Irish man belts into the phone only to be met with sniffles and tears.

“Niall, I don’t know what to do.”

—

Anne was expecting you. She had set up tea with little cake in the back garden. Sasha was excited to chase the cats around the greenery. Her cute jumpsuit sodden with dirt and grass stains in no time.

“I’m sick of being at home alone all the time with Sasha. I miss Harry too much, she misses him too much,” you croak, attempting to keep your tears at bay.

“I want Harry to continue his career and live his dream. Most people never get the chance he’s gotten. I-I just need him.”

“Oh honey,” she rubs my hand soothingly, “I can only imagine. I know I missed him fiercely to the point it was unbearable when he was sixteen. I still miss him too.”

“I...I’m going to sound like such a bad mother,” you take a deep breathe, “would I be a bad mum if Sash and I joined Harry on tour?”

“Do you think that’d make you a bad mum?” Anne asks softly, a small smile on her face.

“No, I don’t think. I’d be happier because I’d be with Harry and we could actually be a married couple 24/7. She would get to see her dad everyday.”

“I think you’ve found you answer,” Anne chuckles, pouring more hot water into your cups.

“It will be so stressful.”

“More stressful than it is now?” Anne replies.

“Nothing can be more stressful than right now.”

- -

The talk witdh Niall helped only a little bit but enough to not feel like he’s going to vomit every other minute.

He was worried you were going to come in here and ask him for a divorce because he couldn’t follow through on his promises as a husband and a father.

Harry was ready to do whatever it took to prevent that from happening. He’s not above groveling and begging for you to stay.

It is dark when you pull in, toting in a sleeping child in your arms that you pass off to Harry who’s waiting at the front door.

He tucks his baby into her bed, tugging the blankets over her, and staring down at her sweet, cherub face for a little longer than usual before heading into your master.

You’re sat on the corner of the bed, biting your lip, and playing with you flashy large diamond ring as a force of habit.

“Baby...” Harry rasps, not touching you but kneeling down in front of you. 

“I can’t do what we’re doing anymore,” you begin, completely unaware that Harry thinks you’re about to ask for a divorce.

“I don’t think you’re going to agree with what I have to say, but I think it’s the best,” you swallow harshly, hoping he doesn’t shoot down the proposition.

“Please, I’ll do anything, lovie. Don’t leave me, don’t divorce me. I’ll do anything’ you want, sweetheart. Please, I need you. I’m so inlove with you.”

Harry is full on sobbing by this point, hanging his head against your knees as he attempts to catch his breath but finding it hard.

“Harry!” You murmur in confusion “baby, look at me, please?”

It takes him a moment to meet your eyes, your face is soft but wrinkled in concern. 

“What are you talking about? Divorce?” You choke out the words. Never in a million years would you willingly agree to part from your husband.

“I know I’ve been fuckin’ up. I can’t bloody figure out how to balance shit. I’ve not followed through and neglected you n’ the baby. I’m a bad husband and a bad dad.”

“Hey,” you said with force, bringing your hand under his chin so he has to keep eye contact. “Do not ever say something like that again. You are the best husband and father. You provide for us. You love us more than I’ve thought possible. You’re perfect for Sasha and I.”

“You said you couldn’t do this anymore,” Harry chokes out, letting his ringed hands rest on the tops of your thighs. His diamond wedding rand flashing in the light.

“Oh, H. I’m sorry - I didn’t mean with you.” You chuckle lightly, “how could you ever possibly think I’d leave you, pet?”

He shakes his head, “it’s because y’too good for me. Don’t deserve you.”

“Hush,” you hums, running a hand through his curls. “I know how to fix this.”

“How? I’ll do anything f’you,” Harry would agree to jump off The Empire State Building for you without a second thought.

“The baba and I are going to join you on tour. I know we agreed it’s be too much but I can’t imagine it can be any harder than this.”

Harry’s face lights up like a Christmas tree.

“That’s if you’ll have us,” you whisper coyly, excited by his reaction.

“Yeah, baby. It means I get to fuck you every night,” Harry growls pushing you back and up into the bed before crawling on top of you.

“A teenage boy, I swear,” you giggle, flushed just thinking about how much more time you’ll have together. 

“S’it so bad I want t’fuck my wife? That I’m so bloody gone for you that I’d do anything f’you?” He presses against your lips before demanding entrance.

“You can have me in your bed every night,” you agree, letting his tongue twist with yours with fever and urgency. 

“Mmm, only groupie I’ll ever need.”

“Shut up,” you laugh, allowing him to slip your shirt over your head and attach his lips to your collarbone.

“Can’t wait to fuck you in every country - like we did when you toured with me before the bab.”

When he tosses your bra across the room, you gasp at his mouth finding your nipple instantly. Nipping and suckling at the sensitive nerves with intent.

His hand doesn’t waste anytime, skillfully unbuttoning your jeans and zip with one hand before cramming his large palm inside to cup you in his hand.

“Only pussy I want, fuckin’ made for me,” he groans at the warm wetness he feel through the thin underwear. The tips of his fingers stroke over your clit with confident movements.

“Stop teasing!” You whine, wriggling out of your jeans and panties in one go. Harry is still completely dressed above you - which shouldn’t be sexy but it is.

“Don’t know how I thought you’d ever leave me. Y’fucking obsessed with my cock,” he laughs - sure of himself now.

“If you don’t touch me, I swear-“

“I’ve got you lovie, best wife ever, y’know? Just wanna please you,” he promises the damp skin on your neck, landing nips and bites that will surely leave a mark. 

“Then please me,” you demand, your tone a higher pitch than usual for your arousal.

You’re rolling your hips upwards to meet his jean-clad center. The friction feels delicious against your sensitive nerves.

Harry takes hold of your hip with one hand to halt your grinding, his other hand finding your heat and without hesitation - slides two thick fingers into you.

“H, yeah,” y/n moans, rolling her hips down to meet his hand. Her arousal coating his knuckles and he can’t describe how sexy that is.

He curls his fingers towards the top of you tight wall, finding the little spongey spot that has you bucking your hips and whimpering.

“Oh, did I find the spot, love?” Harry teases like he doesn’t know. He’s been an expert in pleasuring you for the past eight years. 

“Yes baby, m’gonna come,” you nearly slur with pleasure. The cold metal of his rings brushing against your heated folds in relief.

“Only gonna let you come - if you promise me you’ll come again f’me.”

“I will, H. I wil-“

“Ssh, s’okay. Give it to me, my love,” Harry croons sweetly, leaning to suck a nipple as he speeds up his minstrations. 

Your chest is rising and falling at a fast pace, your hips meeting his curled fingers on every thrust as he pushes you over the edge, “fu-fuck,” you moan, trying your best to keep your voice down.

“Tha’s it. M’wife looks so fuckin’ gorgeous when she’s coming on my fingers. Need you on my cock,” Harry grunts, removing his fingers and working to get his clothes off as fast as possible.

He’s positioning himself at your entrance with intent, wasting no time pushing in. No matter how many times you took him - it was always a stretch but it was immensely pleasurable.

“Love you, love our family. Can’t wait f’you two to join me on tour,” Harry pants, attempting to keep his thrust slow and meaningful but he was so turned on he was already becoming sloppy.

“S’going to be so nice. Spend everyday with my husband,” you hum, wrapping your legs around his waist and resting your feet on his bum. You can feel the muscle flexing from his thrusts.

“Yeah, never get tired of hearin’ that word.”

“Husband?” You giggle, “we’ve been married for five years.”

“Still can’t believe you agreed to,” Harry murmurs, his lips pressed against your temple as he becomes more determined. His thumb finding your clit and giving it hard, tight rubs.

Harry could have anyone he wanted. Millions of people lusted after him. It was hard to believe sometimes that he only wanted you. But in moments like this, you never questioned it.

“You’re ridiculous,” you tell him, biting his full bottom lip.

He growls, “hush up. Let me fuck you, yeah?” 

With that, the only thing that leaves your mouth is whines and gasps as he hits your spot on every fluid thrust with a determined thumb on your nerves.

“Cl-close,” Y/N shutters, legs quivering with sensitivity and arousal.

“Baby, baby wait f’me, m’close,” he begs against your skin, licking and kissing wherever he can reach. He speeds up his movements and you fell him tensing up, his mouth dripping open in an o shape and his eyes squeezing shut - his telltale sign.

You allow yourself to let go at that point and ride out the waves of intense climax with him as he weakly thrust a few more times until he lays his weight on top of you.

“The bubby is going to love South America,” Harry smiles into your mouth. His large palms massaging at your shaky, wet thighs.

“I think she’s going to love being with her daddy more,” Y/N replies, a hand coming to cup his jaw in a slow, languid twist. 

—

Thanks so much for checking it out :) PLEASE SEND ME REQUESTS!

[biderboy]

when draco malfoy was born his mother made the smartest decision of her (and his) life

she sent him to live with her cousin

aka an au where sirius raises draco

NO JUST HEAR ME OUT OKAY

narcissa knew what lucius was like and refused to have her son raised to be like him so she went to the one person who got out

sirius black

(she would have went to her sister but she had a kid of her own)

and 20 year old sirius was fucking ecstatic because “oh cissy of COURSE i’ll take care of draco thank you for putting your everlasting trust in me”

and sirius always wanted a kid and draco was only a few days old but he was so tiny and remus looked like a dad when holding him and that was it, heart taken

and so, dad!sirius and baby!draco headcanons GO

sirius charmed dracos hair to be dark because “he’s a black goddamit why does he look like lucius so much”

sirius took draco over to the potters for play dates even though harry and draco didn’t get along that well

draco adored prongs and often clung to him whenever they were over

sirius dresses draco up in miniature versions of his outfits for the day, with a matching binkie and everything

sirius took draco for rides on his motorcycle even though remus, james, and lily said it was a bad idea

draco not being able to sleep unless sirius enchanted stars over his crib

draco not being able to sleep anywhere but sirius’ flat (no matter how much he like prongs, he did not stay overnight)

sirius letting draco play and pull on his hair, refusing to cut it because draco cried whenever he did as little as pulled it back into a bun

sirius playing queen records to get draco to calm down from fits

sirius and draco taking naps together instead of sirius getting work done

sirius taking draco to order meetings and everyone being shocked because “when did you have a child sirius?”

sirius accidentally leaving his wand somewhere draco could get it and coming back to find broken picture frames and floating balls

SIRIUS AND JAMES HAVING MINI QUIDDITCH MATCHES WITH HARRY AND DRACO

dracos first christmas, sirius cries and pretends he doesn’t

dracos first word is “pads” and sirius cried again

sirius always sends letters and pictures to narcissa and constantly tells draco stories about his mum

sirius knowing damn well draco would not be a gryffindor and still dressing him up in red and gold

sirius spoiling the hell out of draco, candy, toys, clothes, any and everything

sirius clapping and excitedly cheering when draco takes his first steps

sirius dramtically flooing to remus when draco’s first tooth starts coming in

dracos birthday is always over the top and has tons of balloons and cake and music playing the entire time

draco hating the snow as much as sirius hates the snow, so while james and harry play outside, they pair is snuggled on the couch by the fire

draco has a habit of chewing on his hands and sirius is the only one that can replace it with his binkie without him crying

draco is PICKY and gets that directly from sirius “i cant eat that it’s mushy” black

sirius turning into padfoot because draco absolutely adored dogs

sirius telling draco stories about dragons

SIRIUS CALLING DRACO “BABY DRAGON”

sirius getting a magical dragon tattoo and draco would spend hours looking at it fly on his arm

sirius taking draco to a muggle zoo and of course of all things draco is obsessed with the snakes

he also takes a keen liking to the birds

draco only likes eating fruits and will spit out any and all veggie food he gets

sirius gets an apron that says “paddy” on it and things it’s the most clever thing ever

draco really really likes muggle baby food, puffs, and so does sirius so an entire cabinet is filled with them

sirius goes crazy trying to baby proof the flat when draco starts walking and is beyond frustrated because “can you please not touch everything dragon?”

sirius buying one of those muggle swings and enchanting it to suit dracos mood and draco fucking loves that thing

when they go to restaurants sirius dips his finger in his drink or sauce so draco can have some

sirius wears the baby carrier ALL the time, you’ll never see him without it, even if draco isn’t in it

when draco starts teething, sirius freaks out because draco doesn’t usually cry and now he won’t stop crying and sirius calls lily for help

sirius takes to wearing one of dracos teething toys on a necklace so draco stops stuffing his shirt or his own fingers in his mouth

draco one time chewed on sirius’ wand and that was a disaster and remus decided he’d be in charge of keeping the wands while draco was in his moods

draco didn’t have a special blanket but he did have a special plush dog that sirius got him the day he turned 2 weeks old and draco never went anywhere without it

just. sirius raising draco and being a cute family that’s IT

[immaturityofthomasastruc]

Lila Rossi: I’d Say She’s a Good Villain, but Then I’d Be Lying (300 Follower Special)

Deception and cunning are easily two of the most important traits an antagonist could have. It shows that even if they don't have the strength to overcome obstacles, their wit is more than enough. This kind of trait is why characters like Lex Luthor, David Xanatos, and Princess Azula are so beloved, simply because of how intelligent they can be as villains and pose a real threat to the heroes.

It's clear that the Miraculous Ladybug writers want Lila to be seen as this, but the writing seriously fails to back that claim up.

Easily one of the most controversial characters in Miraculous Ladybug is Lila, mainly for the writing surrounding her. But there was a time where she was actually more of an ambiguous character, mainly for the lack of screentime she had until Season 3. But unfortunately, the more appearances she's had have painted a very poor portrait of an antagonist.

Lila's Tragic and Sympathetic Motivation for Hating Ladybug

Lila's first appearance was at the tail end of Season 1, “Volpina”. She was a new transfer student from Italy, and quickly made friends with a lot of her classmates for the lies she told, including being friends with Ladybug (which Alya blindly believed without doing any research like any excellent journalist). But because of how close she was getting to Adrien, Marinette, in a rare act of selfishness, transforms into Ladybug just to chew out Lila for lying about knowing her, humiliating her in front of Adrien. And this is the only motivation we get for what Lila does afterwards.

I'm not saying that it's wrong for Lila to get upset at Ladybug for doing this, and I like the moment of weakness Marinette has, but this is literally the only explanation we get for Lila deciding to side with Hawkmoth, a literal terrorist. As much as I hated the way the arc turned out, I could still understand Chloe siding with Hawkmoth, as it was clear that Hawkmoth was manipulating her and taking advantage of her ego. Lila? Ladybug's mean to her one time, and that inspires her to conspire with a complete stranger who brainwashes people to attack the city, which endangers innocent people and causes God knows how much in collateral damage if not for Miraculous Ladybug fixing everything.

I just don't get how a single negative interaction with someone is enough to conspire with a literal supervillain. Even in Season 3, when Marinette and Lila truly became enemies, it was because she risked exposing all the lies she told, which could damage her reputation. Sure, it's petty, but it makes sense for Lila to want to keep up the illusion. If she was simply an antagonist to Marinette in her civilian life like Chloe was before “Miracle Queen” , I'd be fine with that, but the writers clearly want her to be seen as on the same level of evil as Hawkmoth. I'll get into why that doesn't work later on.

Why Lila is an Excellent Liar

In my Master Fu analysis, I had pointed out that despite all the flaws he had, the narrative insisted on portraying him as an incredibly wise mentor. The same problem applies for Lila as well. We're supposed to see Lila as an expert manipulator and liar, but her lies are insultingly obvious. She always claims to be friends with celebrities and does all these awesome things, and in an age where we can have almost any question answered thanks to the internet, nobody ever stops to question her.

It's even more frustrating when you hear Lila talk about saving Jagged Stone's cat, when Jagged Stone is established to be very fond of Marinette (evidentially more than his own daughter), and nobody ever points that out. I think if Lila's lies were more stories about her travels around the world than outright lies about real people, it could have worked. It'd still be hard to believe, but it's something.

But this is a problem with writing shows aimed at children. As much as we hate writers who need to spell out things to kids, sometimes, they just don't understand some of the media they consume. Seriously, I never got this joke in SpongeBob as a kid, and I can't believe Nickelodeon actually approved this.

So the dilemma when writing a show with children in mind is finding that sweet spot between assuming your audience can figure it out, but not being too vague in your details. It's even harder when you need to find a way to convey the fact that someone is lying without being too obvious. Unfortunately, the show clearly fails to do that

Okay, this is going to sound like an incredibly weird thing to cite, and I only know about it because I used to know someone who was a huge fan of the franchise, but the movie Monster High: Friday Night Frights does a better job of subtly explaining to the audience that a character is lying. Please, just hear me out.

The movie follows the main characters competing in their high school's roller derby for the season after everyone on the usual team gets injured, and the championship match is against another school whose team tends to cheat to win matches. How they manage to do this without getting caught is anyone's guess. While the main characters are practicing, their coach, Clawd, notices a spy for the enemy team taking video of them to study their moves. In response, he calls over one of the athletes, Operetta, to chew her out for her showboating attitude. In reality, he's alerting her to the spy. Only using facial expressions, he clues her, and by extension, the audience, in on the fact that they know what the opposing team is trying to do.

This soon leads to Operetta pretending to tell the enemy team about their secret plan for the championship match, which was really an attempt to outsmart them to gain the advantage in the final stretch. The brilliance of this is how the audience is informed of this with no dialogue, and there's no scene afterwards spelling it out for those who don't get it. It manages to convey deception without being too obvious that Clawd and Operetta are being deceitful.

I think if there were more subtle hints to show the audience Lila was lying, she would be seen in a better light. As it is, Lila's lies are just pathetic, and it's ridiculous that everyone believes her. Which leads me to...

Lila, the Master Manipulator

I once read a Star Trek: Voyager fanfic that poked fun at the series by claiming that the reason a lot of the dumber episodes like “Threshold” and “Twisted” happened was because one of the crew members was an alien who unintentionally produced mood altering pheromones, with Captain Janeway actually realizing they were all high because of said pheromones, while two of the unaffected crew members were wondering what the hell they were doing before they found out the cause. Why do I bring this up? Sometimes, it feels like Lila is an unintentional parallel to the alien in that story.

Like so many characters, it's clear the show desperately wants the audience to view Lila in a certain way, but her actions do very little to actually back up that claim. When she's not using lies to tell stories about so many famous people she knows like her uncle who works for Nintendo, Lila is using strategies to manipulate everyone that are so obviously deceptive, the Thermians could pick up on them. Everyone and their mother knows how ridiculous a lot of what Lila does in episodes like “Chameleon” and “Ladybug” are, and I've talked about them before, so I'll try to be quick.

First off, as someone who had access to accommodations through high school and has had assistance in college so far, there is no way in hell that Ms. Bustier should take Lila's tinnitus at face value in “Chameleon”. If a student has a disability that could interfere with the education process, physical or developmental, not only does the school have to evaluate their performance, and determine if they're eligible for an Individualized Education Program, or IEP, but her teachers would have to be notified in the first place. As her primary educator, Ms. Bustier would be part of the team to oversee Lila's IEP and determine what accommodations she needs to help her learn better with her tinnitus and arthritis. But because the writers don't know what Google is, they just ignore it,  assume that Lila can just say she has a disability, and have everyone believe it. Even when Eric Cartman pretended to be disabled to compete in the Special Olympics, he put in more effort to look the part, even if he looked like a caricature.

Then there's the fact that that in “Chameleon”, everyone just believes Lila when she says Marinette stole her grandmother's necklace when not only is said necklace from the Agreste line of jewelry, but Alya, who is Rena Rouge, can't pick up on the fact that it's a fake. All she does to justify these lies is come up with a sob story about how nobody believes her, yet nobody ever tries to defend Marinette except Alya one time, and it was after she got expelled.

Or what about in “Oni-Chan”, where Lila thinks having Kagami kill Ladybug while claiming she'll back away from Adrien is a good idea? Let's say Oni-Chan does kill Ladybug or at least take away her Miraculous, what then? We know Lila wouldn't go through with this promise, and as soon as Kagami sees her harassing Adrien, she'll be ripe for akumatization again. Overall, not a great plan.

And yet somehow, this last example is what made her worthy enough to become one of Hawkmoth's most trusted agents. I'm just going to say it: Lila is not a good fit for the power of illusion. Whenever she's Volpina or Chameleon, she always goes out of her way to make a big show instead of being subtle with her deceptions. “Chameleon” is the worst offender, as even though Lila gets the power to shapeshift into someone else, instead of being discreet and cornering people into kissing them and gaining their appearance, she just runs around to get Ladybug's attention instead of being subtle. Even Felix had the bright idea to pretend to be Adrien to catch Ladybug off guard. How do you lose to something that happened in “Felix”?

Despite all of these screw-ups, we're still supposed to see her as this master of deception worthy of allying with Hawkmoth in both his supervillain and civilian form, when really, she's a terrible liar on the schoolyard and on the battlefield.

Why Lila is an Important Character

In the grand scheme of things, Lila just isn't as important of a character that the show loves to parade her around as. She's nothing more than a plot device used to raise the stakes in an episode, given how much reality seems to bend over just to accommodate for her lies. Even when the show alludes to her being part of bigger things, like her deal with Adrien, or her rivalry with Marinette, they don't even go anywhere.

She just feels pointless when you remember Astruc's brilliant idea to force Chloe into being the final Akuma for the season while Lila isn't even mentioned once. She only really makes appearances whenever the writers feel like it, which is why it’s hard to take her seriously. Why should I take this character seriously as a threat if the writers refuse to take her seriously as a threat? Why build Lila up as a big threat and not give her a major role in the finale? Why even include her in the show in the first place when you could show Chloe being more manipulative to fill in the plots Lila plays a big part in?

As of the time I am writing this analysis, four episodes of Season 4 have aired, three of them have been about lies or deception, and Lila hasn't been mentioned at all. It honestly seems like she won't appear unless the writers need a easy way to drive up the conflict, so they can justify it by saying that Lila's “superpower” of lying is more powerful than the common sense of everyone else.

I'm sorry this post was shorter than the last one, but compared to Master Fu, there's not that much to say about Lila that I haven't already said. Even the show barely gives her any attention, so it's hard for me to really find a lot to talk about.

[sweetyyhippyy]

Part of You. Spencer Reid x OC! Character. Chapter 17.

Chapter 17: Positive

(Not my gif)

Summary: Things haven’t been easy since Spencer’s arraignment hearing. Bridgett has been having a hard time without Spencer. When Penelope comes to check on her best friend, Bridgett realizes her timing is off.

TW: Mentions of murder. Spencer going to jail. Mentions of pills. Mentions of alcohol. Mentions of throwing up. Pregnancy. Putting pregnancy at risk.

Word Count: 3.2k.

A.N: The italicized paragraph in the beginning is a flashback..

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was the day...

The day of Spencer’s arraignment hearing. Nobody knew what he was going to plead, not even Bridgett… she didn’t even think Spencer knew. Once Emily got the call that the Mexican authorities had found the knife used in Nadie Ramos’ murder, everything went downhill from there. At first they were offering if Spencer pleaded guilty that he would do 5 years, if he chose to plead not guilty, he was looking at 25 years to life. Fiona gave him both of his options, but Spencer decided then and there that he was going to plead not guilty.

“Can I have a minute alone with him please?” Bridgett asked, turning to Emily and Fiona.

“Of course. We’ll both be outside.” Fiona says, grabbing her briefcase and walking out of the room with Emily behind her.

Bridgett stayed quiet, staring at Spencer, waiting for him to explain himself. His eyes stayed on the table between them, not wanting to have the conversation with his girlfriend.

“Do you know what you’re putting yourself up against by pleading not guilty? You could go to prison for a long time, Spencer. Think about all the evidence.”

“Scratch has been very thorough with making sure things don’t look good for me.”

“Yeah, and a jury isn’t going to see that you were set up. They’re going to see that all signs point to you. They don’t know Scratch like we do.”

“Do you think they’ll convict me?”

Bridgett sighs heavily, shrugging her shoulders. “I don’t know. But if you plead guilty… 5 years isn’t the worst. You can come out of prison and still have a life.”

“Yeah but not as an FBI agent. I’ll be a convicted felon.”

“But you would be free. You and I could still have a life together.” Bridgett replies, already tearing up.

“And while I do want that, you know that the FBI is where I belong.”

“But you don’t belong in prison, baby. If you want to roll the dice, and take your chances with going to trial, 25 years might as well be a life sentence.”

“If this whole thing has been orchestrated by Scratch, I know the team can get him.”

“Without a doubt we will. I know we will. But.... what if we can’t prove it this month, this year… or this decade. Spence, we can’t figure it out by tomorrow for your arraignment.” Bridgett lets out a sob.

Spencer shakes his head, sniffling and dropping eye contact with Bridgett.

“What do I do?” Spencer says, his voice straining to keep from crying.

Bridgett sighs shakily, wiping the tears from her eyes. “I don’t know, baby. I don’t know. But I’m here, okay? Whatever you decide, I’m going to be here either way.” She brings him in for a hug, letting him cry onto her shoulder.

***

The whole  team was in the front row on his side, watching as the bailiffs walked in with Spencer between them in handcuffs, walking him to the desk in front of them and helping him sit down. Bridgett was right behind him, giving him a warm smile when he turns around to look at the team.

“How do you plead, Agent Reid?”

Doctor.

“Not guilty.” He says sternly.

Bridgett’s heart jumps at his decision.

Okay… that means we’ll go to trial. But we can get through it.

Penelope held onto Bridgett’s hand while Fiona and the defense attorney went back and forth about why Spencer should and should not have bail set. At one point, both Bridgett and Penelope wanted to hop over the railing and beat the attorney up for the negative accusations he was saying against Spencer. Luke could tell Bridgett was getting agitated, but he took her other hand and gave it a squeeze of comfort. The judge was being less than understanding when Fiona offered the team as character witnesses to speak on Spencer’s behalf, not feeling “in the mood” to hear what they had to say.

“Bail is denied. Defendant will be remanded to federal custody pending trial.” She fires, banging the gavel.

Bridgett’s whole heart falls into the pit of her stomach, hearing that Spencer wouldn’t be coming home with her. She looked in horror at Spencer as he looked to her, just as scared as she was.

“How long until his case goes to trial?” Emily asks Fiona.

“It’s a complicated case. We’re looking at maybe 3 months.”

Bridgett reaches for Spencer’s hand over the railing, he takes it and pulls her in for a hug.

“I’m sorry. So sorry, Bridge.” He whispers.

“I love you. Please be careful.” She says back, trying to take in his embrace one last time, trying to commit to memory his smell and how he held her.

The two bailiffs pull Spencer back from Bridgett’s embrace, taking one of his hands behind his back. Before they get the other hand Spencer points to the top of his sternum and mouths “I’m right here.” Alluding to the necklace he gifted her years ago.

Bridgett sniffles and grabs the moon pendant and rubs it with her thumb, nodding her head.

Spencer turns around one last time as he’s being escorted out, looking at his family; lost and scared to be leaving them. After the door closes, Bridgett sobs, gripping the railing under her to keep her standing. Everyone’s worst nightmare just came true... Spencer was going to prison for something he didn’t do, and they still had no physical evidence of him being set up. Bridgett drops her head as she feels Luke grab her, bringing her in for a hug.

This isn’t really happening. He wasn’t actually going to prison. This was all just a big mistake.

“Bridge, come on, let’s go outside.” JJ says, rubbing her arm.

Bridgett lifts her head from Luke’s chest, wiping her eyes. “I need to go home. I can’t… I can’t be here.” She cries, scooting past Emily and Penelope and walking out of the courtroom.

***

Bridgett’s eyes flutter open, looking at the empty space in her next to her that Spencer always slept in when he was over. Her eyes filled with tears again as she touched the dark grey sheets next to her, feeling the tears go over the bridge of her nose and rolling onto the pillow under her head.

The muscle relaxer she had taken a few hours prior had knocked her out, it was the only way she was going to get sleep. She hugged the body pillow tight, wishing it was Spencer that she was hugging instead of the damn pillow. It had been 2 weeks since the hearing and Bridgett was going through a serious depression. She hadn’t been  back to work since the hearing, Emily said she needed time to get into the right headspace, which usually Bridgett would argue with being away from the job, but now it wasn’t a fight.

A possibility of 3 months. 3 months. 90+ days before his case went to trial. How was she going to get through 3 months without him? The prison wasn’t allowing him visitors just yet for whatever reason. Emily was hopeful that within the next week or so that they would allow them.

Finally, Bridgett grabs the throw blanket at the foot of her bed, wrapping it around herself before getting out of bed and walking into her living room. Her head felt fuzzy and dizzy as she shuffled out of her room, a definite side effect of the pills and alcohol she was consuming everyday for the past 2 weeks.

She stood in the middle of the room, closing her eyes to try to get the spinning to subside. The spinning made her feel nauseous, a bitter taste developing on her tongue, one of her queues that she was about to throw up. Bridgett hurries to the kitchen, going through her pantry to find some crackers to snack on, needing some sort of substance to fill her stomach. She chewed slowly through the saltiness of the cracker, sipping on a glass of water as she chews.

Bridgett’s phone chirps from the other side of the counter, she sees a text from Penelope.

Hey I’m less than a minute from your place, I just want to see how you’re doing.

Bridgett shuffles to the living room, opening the apartment door to wait for Penelope in the hallway. It was the first time she had been out of her apartment. Once she sees her blonde hair and the red as black patterned dress she was wearing, she half smiles, stepping back inside.

Penelope shuts the door behind her, embracing Bridgett right away. “I miss your beautiful face, Bridgy.” She says, squeezing her tightly.

“I miss you too. You know you don’t have to come check on me, right? I’m… fine.” Bridgett shrugs.

“How long have I known you?”

“10 years.”

“And don’t you think I know when you’re not okay? Your man being in prison means that you’re definitely not okay.”

Bridgett sighs, leaning back on the couch. “I feel like if I tell myself that I’m okay, at some point my mind will believe it and I’ll start being okay.”

“Eventually you will be. It’s just going to take a while. It’s been 3 weeks since the hearing, you’re still getting used to life.”

“3 weeks? It’s been 2.”

“No, it’s been 3. The hearing was on the 20th.”

“Wait, it’s really been 3 weeks?” Bridgett mumbles. She quickly sits up on the couch, trying to do math in her head, but she was already so scatterbrained at the moment that things weren’t making sense. She hops up from the couch, going to the calendar on her desk to try and figure it out.

“Bridge? Hey what’s wrong?” Penelope asks, following after her.

Bridgett puts her pointer finger up in her direction, counting the weeks for the fourth time. There was no way.

“Bridgett, what’s wrong? You look scared.”

Bridgett’s heart started to beat out of her chest as the realization sunk in that her math was spot on. She sinks down onto the chair, covering her mouth in shock.

“I’m late.” She mutters.

“Oh!” Penelope gasps, her eyes growing wide.

“I was supposed to get my period the week after Spencer got arrested, but it never came. I thought it was all the stress. It wouldn’t be the first time my period just doesn’t show because I’m stressed out because of the job. And I figured it still hadn’t come because I’m beyond stressed out, but it’s been almost 2 months since I’ve gotten it. Eventually my body is like ‘okay just give the girl her period now’.” Bridgett runs fingers through her tangled hair, her leg bouncing up and down feverishly. “Oh my god, I can’t be pregnant. Not now.”

“Yeah, probably not the best time, but it’ll be okay. You know you have all of us to support you.”

“Penelope, you don’t understand. I’ve been drinking everyday since Spencer’s hearing, taking pills to help me sleep. Oh my god, I’m an idiot. I should have known with how long it’s been since I’ve had my period. Shit.” Bridgett cusses.

“You didn’t know, Bridge. It’s not your fault.”

“Spencer and I were trying for a baby for almost a year and a half before he brought Diana to live with him. We put it on hold, but… what if now that we stopped trying, I really am pregnant?”

“Okay, here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to go down to the drugstore down the block and get you a pregnancy test, and we’re going to find out if you’re actually pregnant before we panic, okay?” Penelope says, grabbing her purse and hurrying out the door.

Bridgett sighs, biting at the hangnail on her pointer finger. If she was pregnant, she was at least 2 maybe 3 months, but that was not likely. She hadn’t been careful with consuming alcohol, especially after the hell she had been through the past month and a half.

Bridgett being the overthinker and worst case scenario on her mind all the time type person she was, she got onto Google to ‘Risks of consuming alcohol during pregnancy’. Most of it was common knowledge, but it was almost as if her mind needed to punish her for the horrible thing she was doing to her possible child.

“You didn’t lock the door after I left?” Penelope scolds her, walking back in the door.

Bridgett turns around, sighing. “I uh… no sorry. Can I have the test?”

“Oh, yeah, I bought you this water in case but you do you. Think happy thoughts.” She says with a smile, handing her the plastic bag with the box inside.

***

“I didn’t know you and Spencer were trying for a baby.” Penelope says, sitting next to Bridgett on the couch, handing her a glass of water.

Bridgett takes a big glup, trying to focus on anything else at all. “Yeah we went through a scare about a little over a year a half ago. It came out negative but then we talked about trying. Nothing came of it… until maybe now. How much longer?”

Penelope looks at the timer on her phone, “45 seconds.”

Bridgett sighs, gnawing at the inside of her cheek. “What am I going to do if I am pregnant? I put this baby at risk by being so irresponsible.”

“You stay here, I’ll go get the test and then we’ll go from there before we panic.” Penelope says, getting up from the couch and walking to the bathroom.

Bridgett takes several deep breaths, trying not to give herself a panic attack as she waits for Penelope.

“Okay, so what we’re going to do is… uh, I have a friend who’s an OB, and we’re going to get you an ultrasound to check the baby out, okay?” Penelope says, holding a pair of Bridgett’s shoes in her hand and the test in the other.

Bridgett’s eyes grow wide, her jaw dropping. “Wait, I’m… it’s positive?”

Penelope nods her head slowly, offering the rest to her. Bridgett covers her mouth with her hand, gasping into it. The tears flow hot down her cheeks as Penelope hands her the test. She sobs as she sees the word “PREGNANT” on the screen, a cold shiver running over her body.

“Oh my god. Oh my god.” Bridgett says over and over, sniffling.

“Honey, everything is going to be okay.”

“This is my fault, Penelope! I should have known I was pregnant! And now… shit, how am I going to tell Spence?”

“We can’t worry about that right now. We need to worry about getting you to see someone to check on my future god child.”

***

“Miss Mendez?” A petite red headed lady walks into the room.

Bridgett smiles at her, still completely terrified. “Yes, you can call me Bridgett.”

“My name is Dr. Clark, I’m going to check you and your baby out, okay? Penelope said you were worried.”

“Yes, I… I went through a hard time the past month or two and I’ve been drinking and taking sleeping pills. I had no idea I was pregnant, I lost track of time and didn’t realize I was so late until today. I figured it was all the stress I’m under.”

“So what I’m going to do is first see how far along you are, and see if the baby is developing normally, the brain, heart, all the organs are developing normally as well, okay? And I’m going to tell you something, there are lots of women who don't realize they’re pregnant and drink, smoke, do a lot worse things that they shouldn’t do. You’re not the first, and you’re not the last. What matters is that now that you know you’re pregnant, you stop all of that immediately.”

Bridgett nods her head, fighting back tears. Obviously Bridgett was the biggest cry baby before pregnancy, but she couldn’t imagine how much worse it was going to be with pregnancy hormones.

The doctor squeezes a gel onto Bridgett’s belly, her body covered in goosebumps at how cold it was. Penelope was smiling from ear to ear next to Bridgett as she sees what actually looks like the shape of a baby on the monitor.

“Oh my god, Bridgy, look.” Penelope says with excitement.

Bridgett looks at the monitor in disbelief, it didn’t look like a baby, but like a large bean.

“So you’re measuring about 8, almost 9 weeks. And the measurements look spot on for where the fetus should be.”

“Oh thank god.” Bridgett says.

“With that being said, do you want to hear the heartbeat?”

“I can do that?” Bridgett asks, smiling at the doctor.

“Yes! Let me turn this on, and find it for you.”

The room is filled with a loud and fast rhythmic thumping. Bridgett’s jaw drops hearing how quickly the thumping was going.

“Healthy heartbeat.” The doctor beams.

“Oh my god.” Bridgett smiles, looking over at Penelope who was now crying too.

“Congratulations. I’m going to print some pictures for you to take home with you.”

“Thank you.” Bridgett replies, looking at the screen in awe. “That’s my baby. Mine and Spencer’s baby.”

Penelope smiles, “Baby genius on the way.”

***

Penelope and Bridgett go around her apartment, throwing away all the empty bottles of liquor that she had accumulated throughout the past few weeks, tossing them in a garbage bag.

“Can I ask you something? Are you going to tell Spencer you’re pregnant?” Penelope asks.

“Not now. I’m going to wait. I don’t want me being pregnant to be something he worries about while he’s in prison.”

“What if…”

“I don’t want to think about that. Worst case scenario, I’ll tell him before he goes to trial. I just want to be able to see him.”

“Emily told us this morning that they’re allowing visitors starting tomorrow. I took it upon myself to make a chart of who’s visiting Spencer and when, but obviously you get first priority.”

“Okay, I’ll go see him tomorrow. But I’m going to keep it to myself just for now. That means that you, Penelope Garcia, need to keep a secret. You can’t tell the team that I’m pregnant, okay?”

Penelope nods her head, crossing her heart. “I promise I’ll keep you and my future god child, a secret.”

“Thank you. We both appreciate it.” Bridgett rubs her stomach. “It’s crazy to think that I have a baby growing inside me. Even crazier to think it’s Spencer’s baby.”

“You two are going to be the best parents ever. I can’t imagine how much love this baby is going to be surrounded by.”

Bridgett smiles, getting a little emotional over the fact that her and Spencer were going to be parents. “Do you think he’s going to be happy?”

“Who, Spencer? Are you kidding? He’s going to be so excited. I’m going to get going, do you need anything?”

“No, I’m okay. Thank you so much for being here, Garcia.” Bridgett says, hugging the woman tight.

Penelope takes the garbage bags with her as she leaves the apartment, closing the door behind her.

Bridgett sits on the couch, taking the ultrasound pictures in her hand and looking at the black and white blob in the picture. Her hand drops down to her stomach, nowhere near a baby bump yet and rubs it.

“Hey in there. I’m mom.” Bridgett laughs. “Your dad is away as I’m sure you know with how much I’ve been crying over it. But you’ll meet him soon and he’s going to love you so much. I can’t wait to meet you. And I promise I’m going to take better care of you. I’m so sorry for hurting you before, but now that I know, I’m going to protect you.”

[ihearthes]

Quarantine Christmas Part  2

Author: @ihearthes Pairing: Harry x y/n Rating: Smut Word Count: 2768 (Part 1) Fiction Chalenge via @caitlin‘s fiction party via @sweetcreatureinthedark

Part 1

December 24, 2020

“Smith!” he bellows way too early and cheerfully as he pounds on my bedroom door. “Happy Christmas Eve! Come on! Let’s go for a jog.”

“Arrrrggggghhhhh,” I growl. “No.”

“If you hike the Hastain Trail with me, I’ll spring for coffee afterwards.”

“Go away, Styles.” Drawing the pillow over my head, I try to block out the sound of his voice. 

“Fresh air will be good for you.”

“You’re not going to give up, are you?” 

“Not on your life. I hate hiking alone.”

“Fine!” Throwing the covers off, I don my newly cleaned leggings, sports bra, and a t-shirt before opening the door and marching past him in my tennis shoes. “Bully,” I accuse. 

“You’re mad that I’m forcing you to take care of yourself?” Although he sounds offended, that smirk is back. 

“Whatevs, Styles. Let’s go.”

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

He sets off at a brisk pace, and I trail behind him slightly. After all, I’m still waking up. 

“Keep up, Smith!”

Just to be ornery, I slow my stride, taking my time examining the plants next to the path. When I next glance up, Harry is a solid quarter mile ahead of me, and I contemplate turning back, finding a picnic table and taking a nap on it until he’s done. 

But no. That’s not to be, as he turns and jogs back to me, keeping his legs pumping as he moves backwards. 

“You’re going to trip on something,” I caution. 

He grins. “You care about me!”

My eyes roll so far back into my head that I swear I can see my own brain. “No. But I care about Glenne, and she would be mighty upset if I had a part in damaging you.”

“Mhm.” The smirk is back, and as hard as I try to keep a sour look on my face, it’s challenging. “Where was Christmas supposed to be?” His question is casual, but it causes me to flinch.

“Indiana,” I snap off the word like one would a twig on a dying tree. Immediately, I feel guilty. “Sorry.” My mumble is quiet, but loud enough for him to hear and nod in silent acceptance. “You don’t deserve rudeness. What about you? London?”

“Holmes Chapel. With my mum, my sister, and her boyfriend.”

“Ah. Is it cold there this year?”

“Fairly mild. And Indiana?”

“Cold, cold, cold. Maybe even snow still on the ground.”

“Yeah. Christmas in Los Angeles is quite different.” Harry gestures around the trail, and I smile. 

“Definitely.”

“What are your favorite traditions?” 

By the time we loop back around to the start of the trail, we’ve exhausted the topic, and I realize my mood has improved tremendously. 

“Thank you, Harry.” The words are soft, and I try to insert as much authenticity as I can into them. 

I have the pleasure of watching his eyes soften as he observes me over the top of the car. “Coffee next! And a trip to the grocery!”

“Grocery? You’re cooking?”

“WE are baking and then cooking.”

“Really?”

“Yep. We’re going to create a mashup of our traditions.”

“No fucking way!” I exclaim, excited at the prospect. Sitting up, I search for a piece of paper and a pen. “I didn’t bring my purse, Styles. Give me your phone.”

“My phone?” Confused, he gazes at me while at a stoplight. 

“I need to write down the ingredients we need to buy. Let’s see. We can’t make some of the cookies we each like because I don’t know if Glenne has cookie cutters in the right shapes. So how about some ginger biscuits?” 

When he nods, I gesture for his phone. “Come on, Styles. I need to look up recipes and make sure we get the right ingredients.”

Reluctantly, he unlocks his phone, handing it to me. “No snooping,” he warns, shaking his finger in my direction. 

“Puuuuuuullllllleeeeeasssse. As if.” Using his browser, I search for a recipe for the ginger biscuits for him as well as one for thumbprint jam cookies, copying the ingredients into his Notes app. 

“Now, for dinner,” he begins, and my fingers pause as I wait for his next words. “Mum used to do a roast, but I don’t eat meat anymore. Just fish. And your family always does turkey. How do we compromise on a protein?”

“Scallops? Salmon? Both delicious and something I would consider fancy enough for a holiday meal.”

“Excellent!” Harry declares. “And can we agree on brussel sprouts and yams?”

My whole being is excited at the prospect of this meal with Harry. Suddenly there’s a silver lining to spending my favorite holiday away from my family. 

As he turns off the engine, I rest my hand on his wrist until he twists to look at me. “Thank you, Harry.”

“You already said that.” He rolls his eyes, but the crinkles send a different message. 

Less than 30 minutes later, we’re back in the car with the trunk full of groceries, including prosecco. After stopping for the promised coffee, we return to Glenne and Jeffrey’s house, unloading the food. 

“Mind if I take a shower before we start?” I ask, looking down at my clothing. “I feel dusty still from the trail.”

“Let’s both shower --” He stalls at my shocked expression “-- in separate bathrooms, Smith. Then let’s see who can put together the worst Christmas outfit from whatever we can find in the guest bedroom where we’re each sleeping.”

A grin crosses my face. “Oh, you’re going down, Styles!” Rushing out of the room, I’m confident that my ears are playing tricks on me because I think he responds with “I would love to go down on you.” He must have said something completely different, and I shake my head to clear the thought. 

When I emerge later, I’m wearing my grey sweatpants which I’ve pinned garland to along with one of my green hoodies and a giant wreath draped around my neck like a necklace by a red ribbon. Arriving in the kitchen, I’m stopped in my tracks by the sight of Harry wearing a skirt of wrapping paper over his also-grey sweatpants, along with a variety of bows stuck to his Green Bay Packers hoodie. 

He shrugs, “Apparently they use that guest bedroom for storing wrapping paper.” 

I laugh as I pluck one of the bows off his hoodie and place it on my chest after removing the wreath. 

“You win,” I concede. “I’m surprised there’s so much Christmas stuff in their house.”

“Eh. The Azoff family celebrates everything.”

“Lucky us, then.”

Side by side, we create the dough first for the ginger biscuits and then for the thumbprint cookies. After he slides the first pans into the oven, Harry crosses his arms. “Scrabble while we wait for them to bake?”

“Oh, it’s on!” I agree, and we settle at the dining room table to play the game. 

“Fine. You win,” Harry pouts over an hour later as I play my final letter which manages to be on a triple word score tile. 

“Woo hoo!” Stuffing one of the ginger biscuits in my mouth, I chew thoughtfully. “These are pretty good. I might make them again next year.”

“Same for these,” Harry grins as he chews on one of the thumbprint cookies. Crossing his arms on the table in front of him, he leans toward me. “Now how about you tell me exactly why you turned down my account when Glenne offered it to you?”

Shock courses through my body, and I freeze, knowing my face is likely turning into a candy cane red. 

“She told you?”

“Of course she told me! I had specifically asked for you, so I was a bit heartbroken when she told me that you refused.”

His word choice makes me raise an eyebrow. “Heartbroken?”

“Devastated? Wrecked? Disappointed? Take your pick, Smith.”

Swallowing, I make eye contact with him. “I’ll tell you why I turned down our account if you’ll tell me why you call me Smith.”

His tongue darts out and wets his lips as his green eyes bore into me. “Because you remind me of a Granny Smith apple.” Confusion must sweep across my face, as he continues talking. “You’re tart at first, but you can be sweetened. I’ve witnessed it in the past as well as just the last two days.” His face colors, but he continues speaking anyway. “Plus I suspect you’re incredibly juicy, and I would love a sample.”

Shit. Shit. Shit. Had Harry Styles just made a very obvious overture? Yes. Yes, he had. My eyes float over his face, searching for any indication that he’s lying, but the sincerity is striking. 

First I look at my entwined hands, and then I decide to show the same courage he has exhibited. “I turned down your account because I couldn’t possibly work for you when I’m this attracted to you. It’s bad form to want to --” I can’t decide on the appropriate word, so I settle for “-- jump your client.”

The smirk is back, and it’s followed by an uproarious laugh. “This is too rich! To think that we could have been having some sort of relationship all this time is mind-numbing.” Rising, he holds out his hand. “How about we consummate our mutual attraction?”

“In the middle of the afternoon on Christmas Eve?”

“You got a better idea of how to spend our time?” 

“Swimming?” I tease. 

“Smith?”

“Yeah?”

“Take my hand.”

His words and tone make it clear that he’s interested in moving forward with this. My own body’s response is in sync with his. Gently, I place my hand in his as I rise from the table. Twisting his body, he also shifts his hand, leading me in the direction of…where? A bedroom seems too rushed. Not that my hormones would agree. 

But no. We walk down the two steps into the living room where he turns on the Christmas tree lights before settling on the couch and tugging my arm so that I join him. “Oh, wait.” Rising, he approaches the sound system, and soon the strains of Christmas music fill the space. Returning to my side, he settles with his arm around me. 

“Smith…” His words are a whisper, and I rotate my head in his direction as he brushes his finger over my cheek. When our lips meet, I swear I can hear the angels sing. His mouth is soft and tender, and I twine my fingers through the hand draped over my shoulder as I open wide to allow him to enter. Our tongues tangle in heat and dampness that also seems to pool between my legs. He tastes of the lemon curd thumbprints we had jointly made, and I relish the flavor, wanting more. 

Shifting closer to him, I tilt my head to provide greater access, and his hand drifts to my sweatpants. Withdrawing from me, he examines our clothes. “Mind if I remove this garland?”

“Not at all,” I purr. “As long as I can get rid of these bows.” The wrapping paper skirt had already been ruined when we sat down for the Scrabble game. 

Rather than unpinning the garland, though, he hooks his thumbs into my waistband and draws the sweatpants over my hips. “Up, Smith.” I lift my bum as he removes my bottoms, leaving me in my panties. 

In return, I inch his hoodie up his chest and off, tossing it over my shoulder, heedless of the bows that seem to desire to stay attached to the musician. Can’t say I blame them. 

“Hmmmm,” he murmurs before capturing my lips again. 

When we come up for air, my hands have managed to roam his chest, tweaking his nipple and wrenching a moan from his mouth. For his part, his hand has drifted over the small piece of cloth separating my treasure from full access. His thumb rubs a pattern over the fabric, and soon I’m panting. 

“Fuck,” I mutter as we separate. 

“Yes please” is his cheeky reply. 

“Dork,” I indict.

“Mhm. Take off that hoodie. Please.” 

Willingly, I oblige. Before the material has hit the floor, he’s capturing my nipple in his mouth, and I throw my head back as fire stokes through my body from my tits to my core. “Shit,” I proclaim. 

His fingers return to the scrap of cloth covering my center. As his thumb teases my clit through the silk, a finger slips underneath and into me. Without thought, I cry out, my lower body rising from the bed to get closer to heaven. 

“Been a while?” His voice is rough, sounding like sandpaper as he dislodges from my breast. 

“Too long,” I pant, “but you’ve always had the power to bring me to the brink just with a look.”

“I see,” he smirks, and normally I would want to smack him, but this time, I find it endearing. 

“I want --” I gesture to his sweats, and he grins. 

“If I refuse?”

“Then my treasure box can close pretty quickly if I don’t have something in my hands.”

Harry laughs. “Fair enough.” Shucking his sweatpants over his hips, I find that he’d chosen not to wear underpants as his cock springs upwards into my waiting hand. 

“Shit. I need lubricant.” I complain. 

We gaze at each other, the lust clear. Jumping up from the sofa, we race together to Glenne and Jeffrey’s bathroom. I scour the lower cabinets while Harry throws open the linen closet. “Got it!” he announces, holding the bottle over his head. 

“Thank God!” My relief is real. Grabbing the bottle from him, I find I can’t move. Now what? Where do we go? We can’t very well do the deed in their bed. 

Grabbing my hand, Harry once more takes the lead, and we end up in his guest bedroom. I gesture at the bed, and he strips off the duvet before lying down on his back. Crawling onto the mattress, I settle between his thighs, tilting the bottle of lube and squeezing a fair amount into my hand. Relaxed, I hold my hand over his cock, allowing droplets to fall. His eyes plead with me, and I grin at him. 

“Impatient, Styles?”

“Desperate for you, Smith.”

With that pronouncement, I wrap both hands around his length, allowing my fingers to glide gently along his shaft. One hand falls underneath where I can tickle his balls playfully. When his hips start bucking, I withdraw from him completely -- albeit slowly with a final few long strokes. 

His eyes fly open, and he pats the bed next to him, so I lie there. 

“Smith…”

“Shhhh. Hush, Styles.”

Miraculously he doesn’t say anything, but he does reach out and shift aside the fabric over my vagina before he delves a finger inside. I know I’m wet. Hell, I can feel the dampness. 

His finger teases me, and I writhe under his attention. 

“Fuck, Styles. I’m gonna…”

“Do it!” he orders, and my lower body creates a bridge as my hips rise into the air while my thighs tremble in ecstasy. 

As I land back onto the bed and earth itself from my recent visit to heaven, Harry carefully removes my panties and throws them over his shoulder. 

“Condom?” He inquires.

“IUD. You clean?”

“Yep. Got tested not long ago. You?”

“Fuck me, Styles. We deserve this.”

“Indeed,” he grins just before he plunges into me, and I cry out at the feel of his length inside me, filling me and touching every part of me. 

“Shit.” My breaths come in short spurts as he pumps into me. I can’t seem to catch my breath as my second orgasm starts building. “Shift to the left, Styles.”

“You got it, Smith. Can you scratch at my back?” 

“You bet.” 

The communication is nice as we guide each other to what pleases us the most. As much as I want to take our time, it’s not nearly long enough before I feel my insides begin to clench in a familiar way. 

“Fuck, Styles. I’m coming!”

“Me too, Smith! Fuuuuuuuuuccccccckkkkkk!” He stretches the word into multiple syllables as I feel his seed squirting into my womb, stopped only by my birth control. His fingers reach between our bodies as he manipulates my clit until I see stars and arch my lower body to become closer to him. 

Collapsing on top of me, his breathing is as uneven as my own. 

“Merry Christmas, Smith,” he murmurs while we’re still joined. 

“Merry Christmas, Styles,” I reply, hugging his body tightly to mine. No telling if we have a future, but this holiday is going to be one for the books. 

A/N:  This short story is dedicated to those who aren’t able to join family this Christmas due to the Coronavirus.  Be safe.  Be healthy.  Make the best of the situation. Sending you BIG HUGS!

[noname-friend]

Where do you think you're going? MafiaAu! Johnny x Reader x Doyoung

One shot with Mafia Member Johnny and his fiancé Y/N, it's an arranged marriage. Neither of you are happy about it but that doesn't mean you try to make it more difficult as there's no way around it. Perhaps, if you both got closer this would be easier? Will he want to?

"What are you doing, my love?" Johnny asked as he stood up from the desk in your shared bedroom.

"Going out," You replied adjusting the necklace you wore, checking your appearance in the vanity mirror once more. You turned to him and gave him a kiss on the cheek, you forced a smile as you turned to leave.

But he grabbed your wrist, "Who said you could go?" His eyes looked at you half-lidded.

"Taeyong did. He said I can have as much freedom as you, I've been well behaved since I got here." You pulled you arm away from him.

"You're up to something aren't you? Don't try to pull any funny business-"

"You're paranoid, Johnny. I'm already your fiancé, where could I go?" You cut him off, your thoughts running a hundred miles per hour as you've never spoke to him like this before. Where did this sudden confidence come from?

"You will go with a few guards."

"I will not."

"You will do as I say. If you are my wife you will listen to me."

"I will not." You said again, glaring at him, "As your future wife, I will not respect nor listen to a man who speaks to me like this."

"Respect goes both ways, Johnny." Doyoung butted in, leaning against the doorway. "Come on, y/n. We need to get going."

"Where are you two going?" You could see Johnny's eyes darken, you had no idea what was going through his mind but it didn't stop you from quickly going to Doyoung's side.

"If you have any concerns or reason to refuse, you can talk to Taeyong. We won't be gone for long." Doyoung replied shortly and with that you walked out of the mansion with him.

"You don't have to get on his bad side for me." You spoke quietly as the two of you sat in the back of one of the cars.

"And he doesn't get to be so possessive over you, considering how much he protested about this arrangement." Doyoung watched outside the window. You chuckled lightly.

"Perhaps I should marry you instead, you'll actually talked to me." You joked to lightening the mood.

"It's not too late, we could ask Tae to change it." He suggested, not sparing a glance at you but with a hint of hope in his voice. You shook your head no.

"Something tells me that he won't take too kindly to that. Johnny, I mean. Besides, I don't mind. I think he could be nice, this is just some strange barrier he's put up. Then again, I would too if I was a top ranking member in Ncity."

"You want to marry him? Don't you always complain about his attitude? Isn't he always cold to you?" Doyoung turned to look at you, finally. You smiled at him and looked down at your hands.

"Yes, he ignores me but perhaps it's because he doesn't get to know me? If we can pull this off, maybe this will chip at that barrier and we can get along at least. I don't want to marry a statue, nor have a stressful married life." Doyoung put a hand on your shoulder and offered a small smile.

"Of course, just remember if this falls through, I'm always here. Even if we don't love each other, I won't let you be miserable." You playfully kissed his hand and he quickly retracted it with a look of playful disgust.

"Thank you, Prince Charming. I'll never forget your kindness." You poked your tongue out and he flicked your forehead. You both laughed, ah a genuine laugh. It felt like forever since the last time you did, considering Johnny hardly let you leave.

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

Hours had gone by, the sun was going down and you were finally on your way back to the mansion. Doyoung was in the courtyard, just on the other side of the tree line, finishing up your surprise picnic for Johnny. There was a picnic bench with fairy lights hanging from tree to tree. You'd bought a strawberry cake, made some chili soup and brought wine for the two of you. You had to ask some of the other members, but eventually you found out this was the food and drink he liked most. Surely he'll see your sincerity to work this out. You walked upstairs to your room, and walked in with a smile on your face. It quickly faded when you were met with an angry Johnny. He jumped up and came up to you quickly.

"Where were you?" He growled lowly, "Why didn't you answer your phone? Why were you gone so long? How come you didn't even text me?" You put your hands up and tried to back up but you were against the wall.

"Johnny, I- my phone died, I didn't think we'd-" Johnny didn't let you finish before he slammed his hand against the wall, right next to your head.

"'We' oh right! You've been hanging out with your little boy toy all day, right? What have you two been doing all day hm? Already cheating on me? Even if we aren't married yet, you think it's ok to go and sleep around?" He berated you so much you couldn't get a word in, the noise from right next to your head already brought tears to your eyes out of fear. Now he was just yelling in your face and you couldn't defend yourself.

"What? Nothing to say now right? You think I don't notice how often you're with him? Leaving me here by myself while you go on stupid little dates?" Suddenly Johnny was pushed away from you, your legs buckling in but someone wrapped their arms around your waist, holding you against them.

"Johnny. That's enough, how can you talk to her like this?" Jaehyun had stepped in, he could hear the commotion from down the hall and it sounded out of hand. You looked to the one that you were clinging to and it was Mark. He gave you a quick smile before pulling you back onto your feet, he led you outside the room.

"Where do you think you're going?!" Johnny tried to push past Jaehyun who kept him in the room. "This has nothing to do with you guys so stay out of it." He growled.

"Are you ok?" Mark asked as the two of you made it downstairs, far enough to not hear Johnny's yelling.

"I was- I was just trying to.." You whimpered as tears fell down your face. You couldn't get the words out, you were scared. So scared of him in that moment, sure he's been mad but never directed at you like that. You were trying to do something nice for him, but did he deserve it after this?

"Y/N! What's wrong? What happened?" A worried Doyoung ran over. You shook your head as he wiped some tears away with his thumb, looking at Mark for an explanation.

"Johnny had a bad day, a few things were falling through, I don't know what happened between them but he's furious." Mark rubbed the back of his neck, "Then again, I think he's had a little to drink as well." Doyoung gritted his teeth, just because he had a bad day doesn't mean he can take it out on you.

"Did he hurt you? I swear if he did I-"

"No.. he just hit the wall..." You sniffled looking up at him, "Can we go, I don't wanna be here." You squeaked as your voice sounded so drained. Doyoung nodded and grabbed your hand, leading you out and to the picnic made for Johnny. You sat at the picnic table and Doyoung offered some of the food.

"Even if he doesn't come, doesn't mean you should starve, right?" Doyoung set a bowl and poured some of the soup into it, handing you a spoon.

"He hates me right?" Your grip on the spoon tightened, if you had more energy it could snap. You looked at the soup, trying to bite back anymore tears from falling.

"Who cares? He doesn't deserve you! His attitude is out of control, he's got no right to do that to you." Doyoung raised his voice slightly, lowering it immediately as he's sure you've had enough of yelling coming at your way.

"I tried, right? Did I try hard enough?" You looked at Doyoung, sadness written all over your face. "Should we just break the engagement?" Doyoung reached over and held your hand.

"You did everything you could to get closer with him, it's his fault that he didn't appreciate it and try as well. You wanted to make peace, he became controlling, that's not what you deserve." You nodded, both of your hands holding onto his.

"I'll talk to Tae-" Doyoung was cut off by a fake cough beside you both.

"I'm aware of the situation." Taeyong stood, a steaming Johnny beside him.

"Get away from my fiancé, Doyoung. I knew you've been cheating on me with him." Johnny glared at the both of you. Taeyong put his hand up, signaling for Johnny to shut up.

"I know your side of the story, I want to hear theirs." You kept your head down, not sure if you can face Johnny. So Doyoung spoke instead, getting up and standing in front of them.

"You are absolutely ridiculous, Johnny. You're so blinded by jealousy you don't even realize everything she's done for you, have you?" Doyoung gestured the set up, "She made this for you! All day! We've gone store to store, getting your favorite foods. Getting fairy lights and lanterns. Just for you! So that you would see she wants to be on good terms with you! She's been trying since the engagement was announced! And what did you do? Confine her to your room, yell at her, accuse her of cheating? You don't deserve Y/N, you've made that so obvious." Doyoung chewed Johnny out, when he finished he panted out of breath but still seething with anger.

"She did this for me?.. How long did you plan this?" He tried to ask you but you wouldn't spare him a glance. Part of you felt happiness as Doyoung said all the words you'd never be able to get out.

"Weeks. We tried every weekend, you brushed her off and always 'had' to go do some assignment." Doyoung glared, before turning to Taeyong. "Tae, don't make her suffer and marry him. He's making her miserable. I know you want her in the family, I'll marry her. I'll do it, Tae please don't make her marry him, he doesn't deserve her."

"That's not true! I will marry her. I love her more than he ever will. She'll be my wife." Johnny raised his voice.

"You don't! You're a liar." Taeyong raised his hand again and made them end their yelling match.

"I will not make the decision for her. It's her future." He walked past them and sat across from you. You looked up to him shyly, playing with your hands anxiously in your lap.

"Y/N, who do you want to marry?" You glanced at them, but Taeyong put his hand up blocking your view from them. "Don't look at them, who would you rather be with?" He asked gently but with authority in his voice.

"I choose... I choose..."

[generalskales]

Heyo i have a bunch of headcanons:

🔥 Kai learned how to style Nya's hair so she wouldn't feel left out whenever a new hair trend hit the village

💧 Nya refuses to sleep unless someone or something is next to her, no one minds this because hey free cuddle buddy

💧⚡ Jay specifically doesn't mind but also understands the struggle of being used to another body/a plushie being there, hence why he still has Mr. Cuddlywomp

⚡ Jay tends to chew on pencils while absentmindedly stimming, he has since bought a chewy necklace to save his poor erasers

❄ Zane finds the recaptcha memes the citizens make very funny. It's not a problem for a Nindroid to deal with recaptcha when you know how they work taps forehead

🌏 Cole will send his dad a message of some kind each day and if he's in the area and not actively patrolling or busy he'll swing by for something to eat or to see what Lou is up to

🐻 Kataru is autistic and flaps his hands to stim, his special interests include bears and fishing

🐻 Kataru also give some of the best hugs. He can make you feel very protected and warm with them.

🐺 Akita will howl at the moon if she's alone or with a trusted friend.

🐺 Akita thinks Lloyd is more like a brother or close friend than a romantic interest

🐉 Lloyd likes to surprise children at the hospital with carefully selected gifts for each of them. He gets really upset if he finds out someone died but is usually informed by the parents that he made their last moments very special.

🐉 Lloyd secretly enjoys cooking with Cole simply because regardless of outcome it's fun to get messy. Zane tends to be clean and organized but Cole will have everything be an organized mess he has a system and Lloyd knows it by heart.

🔥 Kai would never admit it to her face but Skylor is the one person that isn't family he would outright die for. The ninja he would obviously protect with his life, but he isnt losing Skylor as long as he's still standing

❄⚡🌏 Zane, Jay, and Cole used to share a bed before Kai joined the team

🌌 Literally none of them are cishet thats just how it be

🌪 Morro enjoys drinking tea but only Wu makes it to his tastes (he won't ever say this but its very obvious)

🌪 Morro would gladly throw down with Chen or Harumi if only to get a chance to fight someone worth fighting again

🔥 Kai likes it when his hair is played with, he finds it calming

🐉 Lloyd has pulled the "my grandfather is God" card on rude people before and will do it often. Said grandfather finds this a nice change of pace

🐉 This does not change that Lloyd calls him out for his treatment of his children he is Not Having It™

💧 Nya is the third tallest after Zane and Cole, standing at 5'11"

🔥 Kai is 5'07"

⚡ Jay is the kid who took their pen apart in school and put it back together

⚡ Jay freaks out if denied food for any reason

💧❄⚡👑 Nya, Zane, Jay, and Pixal all get together once a month to build Rube Goldberg Machines and its wonderfully chaotic

👑 Pixal signs each of her texts with kaomoji because she thinks it's adorable, specifically this one:

~ヾ(・ω・)

🌌 If you meet any of them on the street you have a 75/25 chance of either mistaking them for stupid teenagers/young adults or realizing that they are actually that young

❄ Zane may have the braincell but he will voluntarily go along with whatever scheme the others are planning

��❄ Pixal will hum on the off chance that Zane is feeling unwell, he said it made him feel safe because she only hummed when they weren't in any sort of danger

👑 Pixal likes watching phineas and ferb, she enjoys seeing whatever the boys or doof come up with each episode

❄🐉 Lloyd is usually found around Zane if he's having a bad day. The Nindroid can tell when his younger teammate is feeling plain awful and will spend the day trying to improve Lloyd's mood. Lloyd in return helps Zane with cooking and cleaning.

🔥 Kai is usually the person to ask to pull double patrols, he has the shortest patrol route on a normal day and can use the excuse to drag Skylor away.

🍜 Skylor has been practicing combining powers she copied so she doesn't tire out as easily. Her record is three at once and she's working on four

🔥🍜 Kai has cooked for Skylor before and never thought of it as anything special or good compared to what she makes. Skylor however loves it and thoroughly enjoys the occasion

🔥💧 Nya would try to bring home stray cats or dogs she found and Kai turned away all of them after a day because of the extra mouth to feed. She eventually got her wish when Kai showed up one day after patrols with a tiny little shrimp of a kitten in his arms and she immediately claimed ownership over it. It's name was Socks because it looked like it had socks on

⚡ Jay cries seeing Socks because Socks is so tiny its illegal

🐉 Lloyd has a youtube channel based around his father's teachings and self defense tips. He's usually joined by either another ninja or an ally

🏅 Dareth is probably one of the few relatively sane adults the ninja have and he won't allow them to miss any opportunity to kick back and relax

🏅 Dareth (and Ronin on a good day) will not hesitate to give some adult life wisdom or a steady shoulder to lean on should any of them need it.

💎 Ronin will throw down if anyone disses his nieces and nephews those are his kids too he doesn't care

🐺🐻 Akita and Kataru have a braincell shared between them

💎🐉 Lloyd will on very very rare occasions slip back into habits from Darkley's and join Ronin in some theivery from the bourgeoisie

🏅🍜 On an off day Skylor may call up Dareth offering a free meal. He always leaves big tips regardless and a note saying thank you, it's her mood booster.

🌪💎 Morro would fight Ronin in hand to hand combat if he could. Ronin would rather the ghost go pester someone else rather than him for the 40th time

🌌 Everyone agrees that Socks is Babey™ and will be protected at all costs

🐺 Akita will sometimes just spend a day lounging in wolf form. No reason she just wants to loaf

🐻 Kataru gets urges to hibernate and is a pain to wake up during winter seasons. He also could beat Cole and Lloyd together in the amount of food he eats during the season

👑🔥 Kai and Pixal will spend their after patrol hours doing science experiments. The more fun ones are the more messy ones, so they tend to get home first so they have clean up time before the others get home

🔥 Kai has the shortest patrol route after an incident on a longer route that made him refuse to take anything longer than what he has outside of a double shift

[sandysmoved]

(Happy Valentine’s Day gay ppl Beffica is sad and I for one think if she fell in love with my OC maybe she wouldn’t be so sad LETS GO LESBIANS)

“Isn’t it SO sad that I call you Bestie?”

Saffi glared at her journal like a mean eye would make the words write themselves, chewing on the end of her pencil harshly. Then, she thought about how long it had been since she’d had more than sauce and foraged plants to eat, and hastily switched to nibbling on her candy necklace, lest she end up developing a taste for wood.

“Haha, I, like, barely know you.”

Behind her, Sprout continued to chant his muffled little babbling, running in circles on the cot like a cat getting ready to settle down. It would be adorable (oh hell, it WAS adorable), if it wasn’t just another distraction bouncing around in her head.

The notes. The maps. The tracks. A missing explorer, and her not-so-missing girlfriend. That thing standing on the cliffs, watching from the treeline. What did it all mean?

“And if I DID get to know you, you’d probably hate me for it.”

Okay Saffi. Deep breaths. You’re smart. You’re good at mysteries. Misplaced mascots aside. Keep it together.

Her pencil refused to cooperate though, continuing to idly shade strands of a violet ponytail in a graphite monochrome.

“Oh well, enjoy it while it lasts, Beffy.”

“UGH.”

Saffi slammed her head on the desk, the pounding in her brain drowning out the concerned chattering of the captive Strabby skittering around the floor.

“This sucks. This sucks so big.”

She wasn’t gonna get any work done like this. She could barely even sit still, her foot tapping out an idle tune (get up everybody, come on and do the wiggle with meee) as she slammed her journal shut. Saffi hummed around her pencil (god, she really WAS going to acquire a taste for it at this point) as she leaned back in her chair and pulled her hair back up into her scrunchie. It wasn’t too terribly late, only a half hour or so after sunset maybe. Surely someone in town would have a request, or maybe she could try hunting down that annoying Noodler for Floofty again. Nothing burned off manic energy like actually getting set on fire accidentally.

“Isn’t it SO sad that I call you Bestie?”

...no. That could wait. Saffi had something more important to do right now, and she had an idea how she was going to do it. She spun in her chair, kicking open the box under her cot, and slid off onto the floor to dig through its contents, tugging an old, worn album from underneath a tangle of useless stuff.

“Haha, I, like, barely know you.”

Well then. Time to fix that.

~*~

Beffica sighed, blowing a loose strand of hair out of her eyes as she idly traced lines in the dirt with a stick. This sucked. This sucked REALLY BIG, actually. It would probably suck a little smaller if she wasn’t sitting on a cold hard stone threshold, but like hell was she gonna join the others by the fire when Cromdo was over there, being all...loud. And old. And Cromdo. The squeeb. She probably would’ve gone and wandered idly around the huts, maybe looked at Wiggle’s records again, but she wasn’t in the mood to get yelled at if she came back early.

Or she could go up to the airship, but...no. After that...super uncool moment she’d let slip earlier, she wouldn’t be surprised if Saffi wasn’t too interested in hanging out. Hell, she’d rather go back to the stupid cave right now, than-

Grass crunched underfoot, and Beffica glanced up, blinking in surprise at the sunset orange grumpus standing at her door. Saffi glanced down at her, her expression...odd, in the flickering firelight across the way. Her fingers drummed a bit (nervously?) on the surface of the book she was holding, before they stilled, and she took a deep breath, blinking.

Beffica opened her mouth to say...well, she didn’t know, and she didn’t have the chance to know, because Saffi beat her to it.

“I know...I know it’s...scary.”

She paused, like she was trying to remember the meaning of the words her brain had shoved out prematurely, and for once, Beffica didn’t have a response. Instead, she sat up a bit straighter, watching Saffi find the thread to explain. Patience wasn’t exactly a virtue that came naturally to her. Maybe that’s why she had been so bad at her job, in the end. Maybe that’s why she’d been so bad at a lot of things. But for some reason, in this particular instance? She was willing to wait a lifetime to find out what Saffi had to say.

“It’s scary, being known. Letting yourself be known. And that’s okay! It’s okay to be afraid. But…”

Here it comes.

Beffica flinched without meaning too, and she hoped Saffi didn’t see it. She didn’t need to look any more pathetic than she already had earlier.

Did you enjoy it, Beffy? Was it fun while it lasted? Would you do better if you could do it all over again? Not like it matters, you can’t-

“But, if I’m your bestie…and I really, REALLY like being your bestie, for the record...then maybe...I think you should at least know me.”

Beffica froze, staring up at Saffi with eyes so wide she felt like they’d pop out and roll away. What? Pardon, what?

Saffi looked down at the book, cracking it open and tracing some of the dusty contents with her eyes, suddenly very aware of how known she was offering to be.

“If. If you want to,” she murmured, suddenly looking very, very small.

And Beffica still had no words. What could she say? What could she possibly say in response to something like this? She hadn’t rehearsed for this moment (and clearly, neither had Saffi), she’d never had any preparation for this. This wasn’t a tasty morsel of information hiding under someone’s bed, a secret to be uncovered hiding behind a tree in the middle of the night. This was knowledge offered. This was someone being vulnerable, and willingly. This was sharing.

With Beffica, of all grumps.

She didn’t know what to say.

So instead, she scooted over, patting the empty space next to her in the doorway, and Saffi’s doubts visibly melted from her posture like snow from a rooftop. She plopped down unceremoniously, cracking the old album open on her knee, and Beffica didn’t hesitate to lean in close to watch her fingers trace the page to tap an old photo. “See, that’s me when I was a toddler, I spent the summer with my grandparents, and-“

Beffica couldn’t tell what the sound that escaped her throat at the sight was; kinda groan and kinda laugh. “Oh my GRUMP, bestie, no offense, but who in the world let you leave the house with your hair chopped up like that?”

“I know, right? My grandmother, bless her cotton socks but that woman should NOT have been legally allowed with ten yards of kitchen scissors-“

Saffi launched into the story like it was the easiest thing in the world, like she was reading off the latest big scoop, instead of inviting someone she’d only known a few weeks into the treasure chest of her life. Every story was like that, every explanation for why her clothes were so oversized and mismatched, or who gave her that particular stuffed animal. And not once, not once did she try to prod Beffica to contribute her own anecdote, back her into a conversational corner that could only end in an unwanted revelation, or a total shutdown.

It was...nice. Comfortable. Listening to her talk. Getting to know Saffironica Snakattak (“Only my granny calls me that, though. Granny and Floofty. The rest of you should all call me Saffi.”) as more than just the bright-eyed journalist who fell out of the sky and started pulling everyone back together in her orbit.

And if Beffica leaned in a little more with each tale? For a closer look? To hear better? To rest her head against Saffi’s arm as the night grew chilly?

Who had to know?

[haiyuta]

|| sugarbaby.com || bang chan

Summary: Struggling college student Y/n is on her last year of college as the bills stack she’s in a tough situation. Her roommate recommends her a website for local sugar daddies. That's where she meets Mr. Bang Chan a producer who is just a nice guy that has a lot of money.  

word count: 5.1k || genre: smut, lots of smut, kissing, dry humping, light choking, praise kink, soft dom chan, like soft, like he’s a caring daddy btw, light barely their daddy kink. 

a/ n: the end plot is so sloppyyyy but I put lots of plot and love and smut this could be better but its 5k of hard work so enjoy yall~

Chewing on your lip you eyed the website your finger hovering on and off the signup button.

Sugarbabys.com the website read on the front page in a quote read "where sugar babies meet high-quality Sugar daddies".

Taking your finger away you gave it a thought all the scenarios going through your head. What if it didn't go well? What if the men were creepy? Your friend already gave you tips 'meet in a public place' 'only if you want to you have to' things like that.

Your bank account was desperate though. Between school and working, you were left with little money. Lingering in the back of your brain you knew you couldn't the reality of having to borrow more money from your friend making you cringe.

Were you desperate enough for money to even sign up for this site? It was something you considered before knowing a few girls who used the website your roommate included for a while until she got what she wanted her debt paid off.

'Its easy just sign up it couldn't hurt' she explained to you. You grimaced it could hurt the many thoughts popped up in your head bad and good.

Your finger hovered over the signup button with great reluctance decided to sign up. Entering your email and information you looked at the rules. It was simple enough the men contacted you based on profiles near them. They recommend you do a date in public for safety reasons etc.

Some of the profile content was questions like the financial level you needed and what you could provide and some small information about yourself.

Your fingertips hovered over the keys writing some info about yourself.

"Hello I'm a graduating student soon with ambitions to join the workforce soon financial help would be the main  and I am very open with new options and experiences"

Finishing off with some fun facts age and a pretty picture your friend took of you. etc you clicked the finished profile you sat back looking at the website shaking your head you closed your laptop work was going to be early tomorrow.

You didn't check the website but a lingering message sat in your inbox.

As the week went on it a few messages popped in your inbox with a variety of guys some seeking immediate sex for money, some promising you the world but then there was one message.

Bang: Hello I'm sure you got many messages you're very pretty I was wondering if you wanted to go on a date with me. I'll pay of course and see if we are matchable. If not just ignore this.

The message made you quirk your eyebrow it felt real and raw in a way the others didn't. And with no picture, you decided to go and message 'Bang' back.

You: Thanks for messaging me I would love to just send your phone number and I'll talk to you more.

Nerves in your stomach grew as you waited for his message. A night went by until his reply.

Bang: Thanks so much here's my number can't wait to talk to you more :)

You've been texting back and forth with Chan for a week till he scheduled a date setting a date that was good for both of you.

You were nervous your stomach turned with butterflies, the restaurant you were in was a fancy Italian restaurant downtown it had deep mood lighting with a clean crisp look to it.

"May I help you," the hostess gave a kind smile.

Shifting in your tight black dress your own but the gold necklace with a nice handbag were thanks to your roommate.  "Um yes," you said nervously "I have a dinner date with Mr. Bang," you said.

Looking at the list she nodded "oh yes he's waiting for you," she said leading you to the back.

Walking through the restaurant your stomach twisted leading towards the table. Questions ran through your mind. Why were you even doing this? It was to late to back down now you thought.

"Here you go," she gestured to the table. Laying your eyes on him you were slightly taken aback at his appearance. He was handsome.

Looking up from his phone a handsome smile lit his face. Slipping the device into his pocket he got up quickly.

"Let me," he gave a sheepish laugh moving toward you. The smell of his cologne filled your senses it was nice really nice.

"Thank you," you said sitting putting your loaned clutch on the table. Drinking in his features you noted he had sandy blond hair, deep dimples, and perhaps an accent. Dressed simply in a black button-up and black jeans expensive chan sat handsomely on his neck.

An awkward silence filled the table until he chuckled "I'm sorry I didn't even introduce myself I use Mr. Bang on my profile but you can call me Chan," he said. Yup, definitely an accent you noted.

His friendly smile radiated causing you to let a small smile "I'm Y/n thank you for taking me out". More like thanks for messaging me and taking me to a restaurant normally college boys would take you out to the best they could do. A local taco joint close to the university which was amazing but you did yearn for something romantic.

"You were beautiful I had to," he flirted with a charming smile. Stomach knotting at the word beautiful and how his foreign accent whispered them out.

"Thank you," you beamed shifting in your seat. The more you talked to him the more comfortable you became with him.

"So, you work in the music industry," you asked wanting to get to know him. Quickly thinking of his profile on the website. Young, producer and money to spend. The website though matched you and you couldn't directly message them until they choose you. Chan would be snatched up quickly if any sugar baby could choose.

"I do I'm a producer I also sing and rap a bit," he explained, "its something I like to do a lot" he added.

"That sounds like a lot of fun," you giggled poking at your food already full from the soup and salad but wanting more.

"It's long hours of editing and writing music," he perked up his eyebrow you noted he had a small cut in his eyebrow. "Hearing my music be sung by artist and people loving my lyrics is all worth it."

"But it's my passion but sadly my passion is mostly inside so it's hard to meet people," he explained eyeing you.

"May I ask why a guy like you would be on a sugar baby website," you said hoping you weren't overstepping your boundary. "I mean not that you can't be on these sites," you quickly blurted out feeling warm at the question you asked.

He laughed a little "I'm not a 40-year-old businessman with a wife and kids," he smirked out.

"Kind of," you trailed off staring at him.

"Well some of my friends were doing it recently saying they met some great people," he said "I also like showering my girl with money might as well see if this will work." he finished.

"Ah okay," you hummed eating some food.

"I'm just a nice guy who has a lot of money," he grinned his cheeky dimple popping out.

You snorted at the comment "wow," you laughed a little.

"Sorry was that cringy," he gave a sheepish smile.

You nodded covering your mouth trying not to laugh out loud.

"Anyway what about you," he asked.

You explained a bit about yourself adding what he needed to know you were almost out of college the struggle to finish was getting harder. He understood explaining he came to Korea from Australia looking for a fresh start. He found his talent when he sold one of his songs for the first time. You were shocked that it was called "Why so lonely" a classic a song that use to be on your freshman playlist every day.

The experience was new but something you would soon treasure a good conversation a lovely meal and getting money for it.

"Did you like the meal," he asked eyeing you placing his black card in his wallet writing down a quick tip.

"It was amazing," you gave a gentle smile. A little bummed this dinner had to end. Also anticipating if he wanted to continue this.

"May I drive you home," he asked giving you his arm. You smiled nodding slipping your arm through his arm.

The small private parking lot on the side as you browsed the expensive cars till you landed on his BMW with admiration a beautiful car that fit his aesthetic. Playful yet luxurious. Sliding into his car you shivered at the cold leather seats.

"Where do you live," he asked.

"Student apartments right next to the university," you explained "just that general area," you said hitting yourself of how dumb you sounded.

The car ride had light chatting he played some music from he wrote. You were shocked to find out it had some of your favorite artists under it. Learning he did some music for a trio group named 3racha.

Coming up to your apartment you sighed glancing at him "thank you so much," you paused letting out a soft "sir" at the end of it.

A moment passed over the both of you until Chan let out a laugh "Sir," a deep cute laugh.

A blush went to your cheeks at his laugh"You're cute enough you don't have to try okay," he assured his you pressing his hand to your cheek gently.

Your face was warm but his hand felt warmer. "Sorry about that," you said softly cringing at yourself. How natural this felt was amazing.

"May I kiss you," he whispered out his lips so close.

Your eyes connected to his light brown eyes your lips wanting to touch his "please."

It was a swift moment as his lips capturing your own. It was soft as he greedily consumed your kiss you were shocked at how good it was to be kissed.

Pulling gently apart your eyes flickered to his noting his eyes were so warm and deep you could drown in them.

"Um thank you for everything," you said feeling warm and frazzled at him. Opening the car door you could feel your heartbeat a little faster and your mind swirl with want.

"Your welcome baby girl," he winked watching you with as you trailed yourself up the steps and into the apartment building.

Its been a few months since your first date with Chan. Honestly, it felt too good to be true. Soon as got home he texted you some information and the next thing that morning a pretty number with 4 digits now sit in your account.

It took all your will not to scream in a pillow at the money. That's what you make in a month for a date.

As the relationship continued Chan was giving you money for your attention dates, kissing, sex all of the above. Honestly, he could pay you nothing and you would still jump at the opportunity to sleep with him. You shuttered a little thinking of the sex simply put it was amazing.

Some basic rules were gently inforced. 1. You or have the right to end it at any time 2. Stressed the fact that this was an exclusive relationship. Light rules but Chan was very laidback.

Currently, you were in a store way too expensive well use to be way too expensive picking out a dress that would look good for this event with Chan. "This one," you hummed walking out in a cream-colored dress. It hugged your ass but the color was sort of off-putting.

Chan sitting on the seat in the private dress area leaning back his hair messy and untamed with a touch of curls. Your fingers always itched to touch those curly locks.

"I don't love it," he hummed eyeing you up and down. "Just the color it looks amazing on you though," he grinned. Sitting next to a pile of dresses that you both didn't like very much.

You frown this was the fifth dress you've tried but to be honest you didn't love it that much either.

"Okay I have a few more," you bit your lip as you went back to the dressing room. The event was tomorrow night performance of some underground rappers and Chan said he might perform with 3racha if he had time. Being on his arm for this event was important.

You shyly claiming you didn't have many dresses for something like that.

Sipping into the dress that caught your eye the most a deep rose gold dress with just a touch of sparkle. Eyeing yourself you smiled at how the dress fit you the price tag with the glaring 1k on the tag.

Slipping out the dressing room your gazed landed on Chan his eyes ran up and down your body. "Wow," he whispered out getting up to inspect the dress. "Do you like it," he asked placing his hand on your hip.

"I love it," you paused eyeing you and Chan in the mirror admiring how you looked and how he looked next to you. His eyes glazed with lust. "It's pricy though," you hummed looking at the price.

Chan leaned over kissing your temple "you know I'll buy it for you," he grinned pushing his hips closer to you.

"You spoil me," you hummed posing lightly in the mirror. It complimented your skin the way it fell made you feel utterly amazing.

"You look beautiful," he said pressing his body against yours. His chin resting atop your head as he stared at your dress in the mirror. You giggled at the reflection. He looked at you with an admiring lust-filled look. You perked up when you felt his bulge pressing against your ass.

Glancing at him through the mirror his deep brown eyes basically told you what he wanted. You've had sex with Chan before and to say the least you would fuck this man for free. You were just lucky enough he was paying your tuition with a sweet payday every other Friday.

You pushed your ass into him feeling his eagerness waiting for you. "We shouldn't," you hummed glancing at him. Leaning over he hummed his lips connecting with your neck. You sighed at the kisses leaning away for more access.

"We just need to be quiet," he whispered in your ear. Grabbing your hand he lead you to the small bench settling you on his lap.

His lips captured yours hungrily your mouths moved in a gentle rhythm. Pulling away Chan looked at you grabbing your exposed thigh placing you across his jeans. "Come on baby we don't want to wrinkle this beautiful dress up," he said pushing the dress up.

A small mew slipped out of you at the feeling of Chan lightly bouncing his leg. Wrapping your arms around his neck to steady yourself you moaned as he added more pressure to your clothed slit.

Your body was heating up at the feeling "come on baby girl," Chan whispered in your ear. Biting your lip you squeezed your eyes closed feeling your stomach twisting at the sensation. God, he got you off so good your mind raced with want.

Clenching your thighs around his you gave a soft moan as you rocked against his leg. The lewd act of humping his leg made your stomach twist with want.

Chan let out a light chuckle you gave him a small embarrassed glare at your current position. "Don't pout you look adorable," he gave a small smirk. "We better finish this off before we are found," he grinned as he proceeded to bounce his leg.

You were already damp as it seeped into Chan's black jeans. Pushing your head into his neck you let out small whimpers as you got closer to the edge. Ready to fall any moment but Chan holding you so tight you never wanted to let go. Pushing down on his thigh you gave a deep moan as you desperately humped his leg.

Leaning over you placed your lips moaning in the kiss. Your eyes twisted shut as waves of heat rolled down your body.

Chan pressed his lips hard against you as you sloppy kissed him. You came down from your high it took a moment but you felt Chan hand run up and down your back.

Biting your lip you gazed up at him giving him a light smile "we should get out of here," you hummed pushing your dress back down and getting up,

You lightly grimaced at his leg with had a decent size wet mark on them. "Fuck sorry," you said also eyeing his bulge.

He hummed grabbing your hand "don't worry about it lets just buy the dress and go back to my place," giving you a wink.

Your stomach stirred thinking of going to his house with him laying in his bed as he pushed your deep into his sheets "Let's," you grinned eagerly.

"How does it look," you asked your roommate coming from your room in the dress you bought last week. It took a dry clean to get the smell of sex from the dress but it still looked clean and new.

Her gaze went from her phone taking a double-take at your dress. "Look at you in that dress," she hummed. Smiling you gave a small twirl the gold shimmering.

"I know I love it so much," you hummed going to the mirror to check your makeup and hair.

"So Y/n how's Chan," she said leaning on the couch her eyebrow raised at you.

"He's good he's taking me to a club tonight," you said.

She nodded "so you don't have feelings for him or anything right," she hummed out looking at you.

Pausing you stared at your eye makeup looking at her through the mirror image you felt your heart leap "of course not he pays me," you told her.

"Yeah I mean your college semester is almost over when will you break it off," she asked. You paused wondering if you would. You did get mostly what you wanted. Clothing, money, your schooling has been paid up to last semester. The thought of breaking it with Chan made your stomach drop.

Before you could answer you heard your phone ring. Grinning you picked it up avoiding your roommates grilling question.

"Hey baby are you ready," Chan spoke.

Glancing at your makeup and outfit you looked good. Shyly remembering what you did in this dress earlier that week. "Yeah I'm good," you hummed out.

"Great I'm downstairs," he said.

"Okay bye," you said clicking off the phone.

Your roommate was still looking at you "you're like into into him," she commented.

"I'm into his money," you easily lied to yourself. The money was great the clothing, the tuition all was amazing. But Chan as a person he was the best of all the gifts. Repressing these growing thoughts was the best you could do.

"Sure you are," she said pulling out up her Netflix. "Just let me know when you move into with him so I can find a new roommate," she teased.

Rolling your eyes you stuck out your tongue  "will do but won't happen," you said leaving.

"Have a nice night," she called out.

"Thanks," you yelled back leaving. Your stomach turned excited to see Chan. Hurrying downstairs you quickly came outside to see Chan leaning on the side of his car. You eyed him loving his outfit.

"Hey," you grinned going to him wrapping your arms around his neck. Your eyes held his from the told of his dirty blond hair to the way he had a smile chain around his neck and his signature black style.

"Aw you missed me," he grinned a small dimple popping out.

"Always," you flirted back.

Giving you a quick peck he opened the door for you. The drive to the small club was nice his hand firmly on your thigh as he navigated the roads driving up to the club.

"You'll meet some of my friends just fellow producers," he explained. The word date stuck to your brain well you were his date. The words girlfriend would be amazing to hear out his mouth.

"Do your friends have any sugar babies," you asked out the blue. Remembering he told you months ago some of his friends use the site.

He pursed his lips "some do some have two or more," he explained closing the door on the side parking.

Taking his arm nerves bubbled up in your stomach as you entered the low lit club. It was loud with live music on the stage was a male he had dark black hair with deep black makeup and he was rapping.

"That's Jisung he's a close friend and producer," Chan said leading you toward the back. The club was lowkey as people enjoyed the fast rapper on the stage.

"He's really good," you called out to Chan.

He nodded "yeah we are underground rappers are normally producers but we like to stay out of the limelight," he added. "I'll be on stage in a bit hope you'll cheer for me," he grinned.

"Always," you grinned. Sipping on the drink you were introduced to lots of people Felix an upcoming solo artist in the company.

"Time to get on stage baby girl," Chan hummed giving you a light kiss on your lips. His eyes lingered on you for a moment "After my set will get outta here," he said.

"Sounds good," you replied.

Felix stayed next to you as you two chatted while Chan was in the back. "Yeah, Chan told me a lot about you."

You nodded "can I ask about," you asked curiously.

Felix nodded his head "just you're really good for him is what I'm going to say," he explained.

Before you knew it the lights went down once again as Chan got on stage with Jisung and another male "who's that," you asked Felix.

"That's Changbin he is just an underground rapper Chan likes to promote with they call themselves 3racha," he explained.

You watched Chan on stage it was like he was a natural. His smile lit the stage his outfit clean making him look fashionable and handsome. That messy hair was darkening.

Your heart speeds up as you watched his performance him bouncing on stage, the way he hyped up the crowd and his fellow rappers.

Chan never really talked about the performing aspect of this. You were transfixed on the performance the lyrics, his movements it was all amazing. Then cheers filled your ears Chan had a small layer of sweat on his forehead "thank you for coming everyone we have so many new acts tonight please keep a lookout for them," he yelled in the mic.

"They were amazing," you said excitedly.

"Yeah, I love watching them perform," Felix agreed. "It doesn't happen often but when it does it's always great," he praised his friends.

Soon after Chan came back to the table with Jisung and Changbin behind him. A layer of sweat on all of them. "Guys I want you to meet Y/n," he said. "My girlfriend," he said glancing at you for a second.

Your eyes widen at the work girlfriend but decided to act cool "um Hi guys I love your music Chan's showed me some samples," you said.

"Ah thank you so much welcome to our little circle Chan's been meaning to introduce us to you," Jisung said giving a wide smile.

"Has he well my boyfriend is so mean not introducing me to his friends sooner," you side-eyed Chan. You felt Chan wrap his arm around your waist.

"Well we should all get together for some food soon," Felix added.

"That would be great," Chan said slipping his arm around your waist. "Sorry to be rude me and Y/n have to dip," Chan said. Giving his friends a few fist bumps he pulled you out the dark club soon after.

The cool night hit you giving you some much-needed space to breathe. "So Chan girlfriend," you quirked an eyebrow stepping away from his. Your insides turned at the word.

"I'm sorry that just slipped out," he spoke quickly apologizing, a red from the tips of his ears to his cheeks maybe from performing but it made him look different. Vulnerable to you like a confession. "I meant it I'll admit it," he added.

There was a pause as you looked at him and he looked at you. Before you knew it your lips were on his. His plush lips felt so good your heart beating rapidly at his confession and you think you got your answer across. He wrapped his arms around your waist pressing deeply into the kiss.

Pulling apart you gazed up at him he had a handsome smirk on his face. "your place," you bite your lip.

He hummed "I gotta hear it one time," he raised an eyebrow.

"Can my handsome boyfriend take me to his place," you admitted your arms thrown around his neck.

Grabbing his keys he and you hurried to his car. You praised his performance as you rode to his place. His hand now firmly placed entwined in your hand.

Stumbling into his condo you and his lips were attached to one another. Closing the door behind him you giggled as his hand slide through your once neatly curled hair now messy from the night.

Grabbing your hand you lead him to his bedroom it had deep blacks and grey al round. Your lips met in a messy haze of lust.

"Fuck you do things to me," Chan whispered pulling his lips away from you. His fluffy hair was now matted to his forehead attractively from his performance those brown eyes of his blazing with want.  

Sitting on his bed eyeing you from the high ground. "Look what you've done," he chuckled out touching himself. Your fingers itched to unzip him and help him.

"Can I," you asked reaching for his zipper.

"Ask properly," he leaned his hands behind him his hooded eyes stared you down.

"Please daddy," you whined out  On your knees, you unbuttoned his pants revealing Calvin Klein's you loved so much. When you got a peek of those they really set you off.

Slowly touching the hard outline you licked your lips in concentration as you teased him from the base circling around the tip feeling he was wet.

"Fucking hell Y/n," his hips involuntary jerked up to your touch. Your fingers raised under his black tee feeling his solid abs under your fingers tips.

"I love your body," you hummed feeling his stomach circling little shapes right above his waistline.

"Yeah," he stared down at you with hunger loving the praise that you gave him. Something you learned early about Chan is praise could get you a long way. Your nails dragged down his abs loving the feeling of them under your fingertips.

Pulling him out you admired his length. You gave his slick head a small kiss as you gently bobbed.

Chan lifted his hips letting you slip more into his mouth. "Fuck," he moaned as he started to hit the back of your throat.

"Relax your throat Y/n," he said gently brushing your hair. Chan gently rolled his hips deeper in as you relaxed your throat. You lightly choked on it pulling off quickly. You blushed realizing even with the training you couldn't take him very far.

"Sorry," you flushed embarrassed you couldn't even deep throat him.

Pulling you onto the bed Chan's eyes were gentle and lustful. He lightly patted your head lovely "you got better," he hummed. Grabbing your wrist he gently took it placing gentle kisses across your wrist. He stared at you with a smoldering look of want.

Leaning down his mouth attacked your neck you felt so close to him you could hear his heart race just like yours. His dick hard against your thigh so close to your entrance.

"Chan I need you," you moaned in his ear as he left wet kisses across his neck.

Pushing your dress up his fingers went to your panties taking them off "where do you need me," he groaned. His finger went across your slit petting you lightly.

"Right there," you moaned body heating up from the petting. He pulled your hips so close to him "please chan," you hummed desperate him to fill you.

He gave a cheeky smile "no need to beg," his Australian accent deep and thick. He grabbed your leg hiking you up. Hooking your leg around his hip as he entered you. The feeling of him stretching you making you wince as you took him between your folds.

"Ah fuck," he cursed out his face twisting into pleasure. His nose scrunched up in pleasure as his hips rocked into you.

Pushing your head into the pillow you let out mews of pleasure as he gave gentle thrust. The closeness of him in you made your head twirl. "Harder," you panted feeling him almost hitting that sweet spot.  

You felt his hips pace start to pick up as he went deeper. "Ah," you moaned out feeling the tingle of an oncoming orgasm come. You pushed the feeling down trying to savor the feeling of the pleasure.

Looking up at Chan his mouth slightly slacked as he focused on his thrusts fuck he was handsome you thought. A vulnerable look of want and pleasure twisted on his face.

He looked down at you a small smile lit on his lips "you look hot on your back for me." His words made your stomach twist with want and love.

"May I," he hummed his fingers wrapping around your neck. Your stomach tingled with want something about choking made you excited.

"Please," you begged.

Wrapping his hand on the side of your throat made you lick your lip making your head dizzy. Honestly, you didn't know you had a choking kink until Chan introduced you to it.

"Thank you, daddy," you hummed loving the way he pressed lightly on your throat his thumb gently tracing your windpipe. His thrust hit hard as he tightens his hold restricting your breathing.  

"Your welcome baby," he said thrusting into you deeper. Lifting into him you enjoyed the way his body pressed into you.

"I'm close," you moaned out feeling him hit that spot over and over making your eyes roll back.

"Hold your breath baby," he said tightening his hold. His pace got faster as he chased his own orgasm small groans left his lips lovely. "Fuck," he moaned "You feel so good," you moan feeling the sudden warmth of his cum spurt out. The warmth of it pushed you over the edge.

Clutching your leg behind his back black and white spots filled your vision. Chan let out sensual groans as he came down from his high. His hand released your neck as he went to pet your hair. 

Shifting your leg you felt him pull out of you. You bite your lip smiling at the feeling of him pulling you close. 

“Fuck,” he moaned taking off his shirt laying on the silk sheets. You turned to him a grin on his face. 

Wrapping his arm around your midsection he curled up to you. “Chan you smell like sweat,” you whined at the smell. 

“You know you love it,” he grinned as you pushed your face into his curly hair. 

“Mmmhh,” you hummed feeling him pet your head as his fingers up and down your body. 

[undeadsnorlax]

Alone at Midnight, Inside My Mind

@badthingshappenbingo

Ao3 Link

Bingo Card

using the prompt in a metaphorical sense, as opposed to the medical aid sense

Prompt: Crutches

Fandom: Yakuza/Ryu Ga Gotoku

Warnings: a lot of alcohol related issues, including addiction and withdrawal, some suicidal thoughts and body image issues, hurt/no comfort. set pre-Yakuza 2.

Wordcount: 5511

2pm. He could tell it was because his downstairs neighbour was home, attending to the array of plant pots she kept littered outside her door, and playing music on the radio that bled through the crack of the open window.

Daigo squinted in the afternoon light that managed to make its way through the blinds, groaning loudly.

“Fucking hell…”

Suppose now was as good a time as any to start the day. Especially when he felt his stomach rumble.

It took some effort to get to his feet, but soon he was dragging himself into the kitchen, yawning loudly. He needed something quick and tasty, now.

The fridge had nothing but convenience store sushi and days old leftover curry. The cupboards were also pretty bare, half a bag of rice and a ramen cup.

Daigo sighed heavily, setting his kettle to boil before grabbing the sushi. He stuffed a piece into his mouth, wrinkling his nose at the taste of stale rice but ate another without any complaint.

Head to the store. Get some more food, he thought, holding the ramen cup in place as he lifted up the kettle.

The water splashed on the counter a little, narrowly missing burning his fingers, making him forcefully slam the kettle back down once the cup was filled.

Daigo gripped the sides of the counter, closing his eyes as he felt a pulse of nausea rush through his body. If he forced the tension against the surface hard enough, he could stop his hands shaking for just a moment.

Eat noodles. Have a shower. Go to the store.

Opening his eyes again, he ate another piece of sushi, absolutely no taste on his tongue as he chewed it into mush, before taking his ramen into the living room.

He slumped down on the couch, turning the TV on and forced the food down him. He still felt nauseous, but he knew he wouldn’t actually vomit. He already had last night. Doubled over in a bush outside the train station and puked his guts out, despite not having much solids in him. Even now his throat felt sore from it. Classy.

He wasn’t even hungry, really. He was eating out of obligation, feeling his stomach gurgle happily at finally being filled with some kind of food.

As he ate, he noticed his cell phone on the table in front of him, discarded amongst the empty bottles and candy wrappers. It was flashing.

Daigo frowned, reaching over and flipping it open.

Three new answer machine messages.

Who the hell had tried calling him?

Message one - 9:25am

“Daigo, it’s your mother. Pick up.”

Message two - 9:43am

“Me again. Please answer your phone.”

Message three - 10:08am

“Daigo...it’s Mom-“

Daigo groaned, snapping his phone shut to end the messages. Nope! He was not dealing with this today.

He discarded the empty ramen cup and chopsticks with the rest of the trash on the table, storming towards the bathroom.

Shower on, clothes off. He used the toilet as the water heated up, catching the reflection of his upper half in the mirror as he finished.

“Hrmph.”

He ran a hand down his front, resting it on the middle of his stomach and huffed again.

His weight had been up and down the last ten years, though it had obviously settled during his stint in prison, with its shit food and no alcohol. Now that he was out, with all the freedom to indulge in every last inch of hedonism he could find though, he had developed a bit of a gut. Just a bump, but it was…noticeable, it was there. It stuck out.

No surprise really. How much did he drink last night again?

Enough I puked in a bush.

Daigo shifted on his feet, standing up a bit straighter and sucking his stomach in. It didn’t make much difference. He suddenly wondered how visible it was under his t-shirt, glad he usually wore a thick coat to hide himself in.

“Great,” he growled, stepping into the shower. Another thing to feel insecure about.

He stood there, forehead pressed against the wall as he let the water run down the Fudo Myoo on his back.

His hand started shaking again.

“Give me a break,” he said, clasping it to his chest, “A few hours, a day.”

He dried himself off, going back to his bedroom for a clean shirt and pair of jeans – both black, of course.

He also grabbed a heavy hoodie to wear to the store, a way to feel a little more comfortable in himself in a public place.

Wallet, keys, phone. Go to store. Buy supplies.

Daigo pulled his hood up as he jogged down the stairs, immediately blocked from leaving by the downstairs neighbour still gardening.

“Lovely afternoon, isn’t it Dojima-san?” Ito cried, beaming at him. She was older, always so chipper. How did she manage?

As much as he wanted to ignore her, Daigo had been raised with far too proper manners. He still remained casual, grunting a little and rubbing the back of his head.

“Yeah, suppose.”

“You came back late again last night,” she added, hands lifting a plant to move to another pot, “Ouma-san went off about it before going to work this morning.”

“Oh, did he now?”

Ouma was the guy around his age in the apartment next door. Always miserable, always bringing a new girl home every weekend that Daigo had to endure hearing fake horribly through his thin bedroom walls.

“I’ll try to be a bit quieter next time, Ito-san,” he mumbled. For her sake, not for that asshole Ouma.

“Or maybe you should stay in once in a while, hm?”

Daigo scowled, jerking his head and storming off toward the store. With any luck the old bag would have gone inside by the time he was back.

As he made his way down the street, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He went to answer but paused, clenching his fingers tight into his palm. Nope. He knew who it was, and what she wanted, and he didn’t care.

His supply run was basic. More noodles, packs of chips and cookies, some onigiri and bentos that could last a few days.

Whilst picking up a few bottles of Staminan and Tauriner, he stared blankly at the alcohol.

His hands still shook. There was such a quick fix to settle that.

He grabbed a six pack of beer and a bottle of scotch and vodka, unable to help a crooked little grin.

The cashier looked at him a little oddly as he set his basket down on the counter. And yeah, he’d admit he looked strange. Sweating and shaky from withdrawal, under his eyes dark and his brow pulled into a near permanent scowl, face otherwise obscured by the shadow of the hood.

“Get me some cigarettes too, huh?” he mumbled, taking out his wallet and avoiding eye contact.

He was a mess.

He stared at the glass case of baked goods, unable to resist the pull from his sweet tooth, and asked for two donuts as well.

He arrived back home rather pleased with his haul. He had enough in him to pack away most of it, before he stared down the booze he bought.

He could...not do this, actually. He could not drink. It was easy, in theory.

He wiped his damp brow, licked his dry lips. His head hurt, despite the slight gloom of the kitchen.

They could sit there as an ultimate temptation. He could ignore them. He could do all manner of things.

But he wanted to drink, that was the issue. That was the whole point. Drinking was the only thing he had that stayed consistent.

He grabbed the scotch and slugged back a long mouthful, feeling everything just melt away. He let out a relieved gasp, the taste strong on his tongue and warming his throat. Felt like a part of him was back. His mind became a little clearer, his mood a little more elevated. He took a shorter swig for luck, rubbing his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Much better…”

He spent the rest of the afternoon lounging on the sofa, playing video games. There wasn’t much else for him to do during the day.

Evening was his time.

When seven rolled around, Daigo got ready. His jeans and t-shirt were fine already, so all he had to do was put on his usual cross necklace to complete the outfit. He spent a while staring down himself in the mirror as he applied a shaky dash of eyeliner around his lid.

Once upon a time he shied away from doing this publicly, but since leaving jail he stopped caring. Wore eyeliner and straightened his hair. Painted his nails black and picked at the polish when he was anxious. Who gave a shit? Anyone dumb enough to say anything soon regretted it.

Keys, wallet, phone. Same routine. He chose his white puffer jacket to wear instead of his hoodie, enjoying the barrier it gave him from the rest of the world.

One quick metro ride later, he was in Kamurocho, just as the town was coming alive in a burst of neon. Daigo lost himself in the crowds, thinking of which bar to hit up first.

He paused for a moment down Tenkaichi Street, staring at the sign for Serena. Place was closed, and had been for a little under a year now.

He knew what happened last year, of course. Heard about Rina through another barkeep. Not that he’d known her well, or spent much time at Serena, but something in his chest ached hearing she was gone in such circumstances.

He soon forgot about it with another glass.

With a weary huff, he decided the Champion District on the other side of town was the best place to start. The bar he chose was quiet, no other customers, and a barman who knew when to keep his mouth shut.

Perfect.

Instead of conversation, Daigo focused on the soft jazz music playing as he nursed his whiskey. He was into heavier tunes, but he needed a bit more of a buzz before going to his favourite rock bar.

He tapped his nails against the glass, tilting his head. Good idea, actually. They did cheap shots and a big array of imports.

He slammed some cash down on the counter before stumbling into the street, glad to feel the slight evening chill on his cheeks.

Down to Pink Street, and into the rock bar he enjoyed. Already feeling at home with the heavy guitar music blasting over the speakers, most of the other patrons dressed in a similar style to him. He’d missed out on a lot of stuff whilst locked away, the slight sways in fashion that happened in such a short amount of time, but he liked knowing he was still on trend within his scene, mostly.

He sat at the counter, giving a half-grin to the girl working there, and ordered himself five shots of vodka.

His earlier drinks had been a warmup, these were the first leg of the race. The second came in the form of a large scotch, some new brand they’d started selling.

Honestly, the start to a perfect night for him, until he heard a small gasp from behind him.

“Hey! Aniki!”

Daigo’s heart sank at the voice, glancing over his shoulder. Five of the guys he usually hung around with were there – or more accurately, they hung around him.

He rolled his eyes and groaned, turning in his seat and glaring them down. He should never had shown them this place.

“What do you want?” he muttered, already knowing the answer.

“We didn’t know you were out today!” Arita cried, leaning up next to him, with that sycophantic look he always had in his eyes. As if Daigo wasn’t out every night.

“Why don’t you join us aniki?” Kubo asked, which actually translated to wanna pay for all our drinks because we’re cheap scrounging bastards?

Daigo groaned again, knocking back his glass and waving the bartender over again.

“If you quit calling me aniki.”

They didn’t, of course. They gleefully accepted the drinks he bought them with more coos of thank you Dojima-aniki. Daigo rubbed the bridge of his nose and ordered himself two double scotches, slugging them back like they were water.

“I was thinkin’ we could go to Dazzle after this,” Arita said, having not left Daigo’s side. He always babbled and talked too much, like he felt he had to fill every silence with his own voice save people be left alone with their own thoughts.

“Why there?” Daigo asked, thinking of all the things he’d rather do more than go to a hostess club, including and not limited to slamming his face into a lit stovetop and drowning in a hot tub.

“I just think the girls there are really underrated, y’know? I like that they have some slightly older gals, I love a mature lady. How about you?”

Daigo shoved a shard of ice from his glass into his mouth and let it melt on his tongue. “Come on then.”

He was paying for two hours and that was that. At least he could get a bottle for himself and work through that, sitting at the edge whilst the others enjoyed the girls’ company.

Dazzle might have specialised in more mature women, but the decor was a nightmare like every other hostess club. Why’d they always insist on so many sparkles, it gave him a headache.

“Um...are you enjoying yourself?”

Daigo lowered his gaze to look at the girl. ‘Mature’ really meant ‘late twenties’, and she was running on the younger side of that.

“What do you think?” he said coldly, swirling his drink in its glass.

She seemed a little dazed at this, glancing back at her fellow hostesses, but kept going.

“M-my name is Nashi. Yours?”

“Daigo Dojima.”

He clicked his tongue, emptied his glass and went to refill it, his shoulders slouching slightly. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be so short, you’re only doing your job.”

“Oh, it’s fine, I’ve had far worse responses.”

Daigo just gritted his teeth. Another reason he hated hostess clubs was he knew how other men treated these girls, saw it himself the times his father brought him along as a teen.

The least he could do was give this lady a nice conversation.

“Well, I’ll try to be a bit better than them,” he said, gesturing with his head towards the others, so loud and obnoxious.

Nashi smiled a little. “They’re not so bad. Your friends are just a bit...out there.”

He scoffed. “They’re not my friends. I don’t really...do friendship anymore.”

“Oh? How come?”

Shit. Of course, when you say something like that, people have questions. Daigo licked his lips in thought, considering how he should phrase this.

“You...don’t recognise my name, do you?”

Nashi blushed a little, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Um, well, you do have a bit of notoriety around town, Dojima-san. I know girls in other clubs, and they always talk about you.”

Daigo did a slight double take at this. “Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah. You’re a rather…” She gestured at his coat and skinny jeans. “A striking figure, you know. A lot of girls like the edgy emo bad boy look. It’s popular right now.”

“Hm, figures.” A lot of men are also fans…

Daigo sat up a little straighter, gazing Nashi down. “Do you?”

“H-huh?”

“Find me attractive?”

It was a joke, said with a dry smirk, but she flustered, clearly uneasy. Daigo grimaced, sliding up a little closer and putting a hand to her knee.

“Hey, hey. I’m kidding.” He made his smirk a soft smile, broke down the facade for just a moment to put her at ease. “Don’t worry about it.”

Nashi’s eyes went wide, but nodded, brushing down the edges of her dress.

“A-anyway, I...I’ve heard you...were involved with the Tojo Clan. Is that why you don’t ‘do’ friends?”

“Mm. Essentially.”

Daigo gave up on the glass, swigging back from the bottle which got him a funny look from one of the other patrons across the way.

“My only friend murdered my father,” he said, so matter of fact. He hesitated a moment, letting out a short huff. “Well. He went to jail for the crime, at least. He was actually covering for someone else. Either way, I was left without his guidance for ten years, thinking he had betrayed me like that.”

He paused a second, swilling whiskey around his mouth, before continuing.

“I came back to town a few months ago and...he hasn’t bothered trying to find me. Which shows how little he cares.”

“Oh. That sounds...awful, Dojima-san.”

“It sure does, doesn’t it?”

Daigo shrugged, tilting the empty bottle back so he could savour just a few more drops as best he could. “That’s just how my life is now.”

He grumbled a little as he set the bottle down, belching into his cupped hand before draping himself back against the seat.

“Sometimes you gotta deal with the hand you're given,” he added, scratching lazily at his middle, “And unfortunately, I’ve had a poor deck from the start.”

He shut his eyes before letting out a laugh, forced and hollow. “Sorry. I’m not the best at keeping things light.”

How many hostesses had he paid to listen to him whine? Then he thought how they were probably all used to it, which made it even worse.

“Well, given your circumstances…”

Nashi glanced back at her co-workers, the barely hidden looks of disdain towards the rest of the crew and their boorish behaviour.

“I’d much rather talk to you though,” she said, reaching over to grab another one of the bottles along the table, gesturing toward his glass, “You’re nice.”

Daigo swallowed, nodding in approval as she filled it to the brim. His head pounded, but he wasn’t sure if it was from the music or the cravings.

“If you say so.”

The glass was empty in a flash, and filled just as quick.

“You’re good at this,” he purred.

The bottle was empty by the time the waiter came by. Daigo had just enough mental capacity to dig through his pockets and pay, giving Nashi a shaky smile and a pat on the knee.

“Thank you for tonight. You’re great.”

His friends, on the other hand, all started to whine as the waiter began to urge them into finishing their drinks.

“Aw, c’mon aniki, let’s hang around a bit longer!”

“If you want that, pay yourself, ya cheap fucks.”

Daigo stood up, a bit too quickly as he felt the room spin. He stumbled to the side slightly, wincing as he contained a belch that very much tasted of vomit. Nope! No puking tonight. Keep it all inside.

“I’m outta here,” he mumbled, resting a hand on any available solid surface to keep himself steady as he left.

He blanked out the cries of the others as he did. He’d wasted enough time with them tonight, and he was craving something else.

“Burger,” he mumbled, squinting as he glanced up and down the street, “Pffft...that way.”

This was always the worst part of the night. Trying to sober up enough so he could keep going, or at the very least get home in one piece. Stumbling through the streets and trying not to crack his skull open.

It wasn’t just food he craved though. He felt...itchy. That was the only way to really explain it. The desire to go wild, start a scuffle. Really earn that reputation he supposedly had.

To hell with staying in one piece.

But first, Smile Burger.

The fact that the poor worker even understood what he said through his slurred words was impressive and soon he was curled up against the window, feet pulled up on the chair beside him as he made his way through a burger that tasted like the finest wagyu steak right now.

All the while, he kept his eye out.

Yeah, it felt shitty to target people for a fight like this, but he made sure it was a fair fight. Usually a few guys, who looked like they could take a hit as well as throw one, maybe even have a chance if they weren’t facing someone running on adrenaline and too much booze.

He cocked his head as he focused on a table nearby. Four men, mid-twenties, definitely young yakuza from some family. He couldn’t see any lapel pin from where he was sat, but they were perfect.

Childishly, he picked up one of his fries and threw it in their direction. It hit the back of one guy’s head, and he looked around puzzled. Daigo just threw another, chuckling as it hit him again. A bit too obvious, as he was spotted this time.

“What the hell’s wrong with you dude?” one of the four cried.

“I dunno,” Daigo said, stuffing a bunch of fries in his mouth before flinging another their way, “Target practise.”

This one hit a guy in a striking red sports jacket right between the eyes, and Daigo could barely contain the full-on cackle he let out at the expression he pulled. It was almost too easy.

He grinned when one came over and jabbed him in the chest.

“Outside. Now.”

“My pleasure.”

He followed them into a nearby side street, hands in his pockets and head held high. He liked an audience sometimes, but a private fight was fine enough.

The biggest one of them threw the first punch. He was expecting it, crossing his arms over in front of his face to block it, before kicking out at the guy’s ankles.

The whole fight was messy. The little gang clearly had never been in a proper fight, had no form. They kept punching poorly, wincing with any that managed to hit as they stung their knuckles.

Not that Daigo was any better. He was still far too drunk, but that was half the fun. Stumbling about and getting in a rough hit that frightened these kids who’d never experienced this before. He just wanted the thrill, the rush of adrenaline pumping through his veins. Anything to feel something.

Daigo landed a punch on that guy in the sports jacket, right in the middle of his face. It sent him flat on his ass, skidding down the street slightly.

“Come on!” he groaned, “Grab him, idiots! We outnumber him!”

A moment of pause. Daigo tried to catch his breath, but ol’ sports jacket was right. He was outnumbered.

Two of them grabbed his coat and pushed him back against the wall, holding him there. The third punched at his gut, over and over. Daigo gritted his teeth, tensed his stomach for every punch.

He knew he could get out of this, easily. The guys holding him were hardly doing much, weren’t even gripping his actual arms, just the sleeves of his jacket. It wouldn’t take much to duck and slip down, then send them crying home to their mommies.

“Come on!” he hissed, baring his teeth.

But he wanted them to hit him.

“That all you got?”

He wanted them to hurt him.

Sports jacket guy had gotten back on his feet now, face already starting to bruise. His fist met the middle of Daigo’s face hard, harder than they’d been hitting before. It stung, a lot, which is exactly what he wanted.

Not that it solved anything.

It never did.

“Oi!” They all froze, turning toward the entrance of the street. Daigo, semi-dazed, managed to look too, and felt his stomach drop.

Kashiwagi's expression, initially a scowl, changed the moment he saw him, shaking his head and blinking a little. “Daigo?”

He sighed heavily, storming over and waving his hand at the little gang. “Shoo. Don’t let me catch you boys doing shit like this again, you hear?” “Y-yes Patriarch Kashiwagi.”

They scurried off further down the street, leaving Daigo to stand up straighter, rubbing his nose. He groaned a little as he saw the streaks of rusty red on the back of his hand, sniffling heavily. “Great.”

“Daigo…”

Kashiwagi sighed again, rubbing at his temple. “What are you doing?” “I’m just...I’m just out.” Daigo sniffed again, scrunching his nose. “Just finished dinner.”

“You know what I mean…”

Kashiwagi looked around, then grabbed Daigo by the shoulder. “C’mon. Let’s talk in the office.”

Daigo went to argue, but it only took one stern glare, the kind the older man had given him his whole life, for him to clench his jaw and follow.

Kashiwagi led the way toward the Millennium Tower, hand on Daigo’s shoulder the whole way. It felt so patronising, like that time he accidentally broke a window at the Dojima Family offices when he was ten, and Kashiwagi had done the exact same gesture, marching him to his mother.

“Nice upgrade,” he still said, gazing out the wide window of Kashiwagi’s office once they arrived, “From that little place on Tenkaichi.”

“Well, we make do. I’m second in command now.” Kashiwagi set down the plastic convenience store bag he’d been carrying on his desk, letting out a small, bemused exhale of air. “It’s not all bad. Now come on. Why were you fighting?”

Daigo clicked his tongue and shrugged, staring at the blinking lights below them.

“Daigo…” “I just was, okay?”

He gave a dismissive shrug, walking across the floor toward a cabinet, throwing the doors open. Kashiwagi watched him with tired eyes, slumping down in his chair. “I think you’ve had enough to drink tonight.”

“How did you know that’s what I was looking for?”

“Your breath reeks of it, kid. Your whole body does.” He took out a bento and can of coffee from the plastic bag, raising a brow. “And I know what you’re like, especially lately. How’s being a free man by the way? Haven’t seen you since you were released.”

“It sucks ass.”

Daigo slammed the cabinet door shut, opening another and grinning as he saw half a bottle of whiskey there, as well as some crystal glasses. He heard Kashiwagi tut loudly as he slammed both down on top of the cabinet.

“What did you expect?” he scoffed, pouring a very large measure, “Mom told me the news the moment I got out. What Nishikiyama did. That it wasn’t Kiryu. He hasn’t even come to see me, to apologise for it.”

He knocked the glass back, the sensation warm and familiar down his throat. “Hardly feel free. Just not in jail anymore.”

“What happened to the boy I knew?” Kashiwagi asked, walking over and placing a hand on Daigo’s shoulder once more. This time it was gentle, kind, attempting to be comforting. Not Kashiwagi-san, one of his father’s men, but Uncle Osamu, his mother’s best friend.

Daigo scrunched his nose up, taking another slug of whiskey. “You say that like I’ve ever been cheery.”

“Well, okay, you’ve always been a serious young man, but…”

He just shook his head, moving his hand away. He grabbed the whiskey bottle in the process, making Daigo let out a pathetic little whine.

“I’m not going to enable you any more than I have,” he said firmly, before adding, “I mean it though. You don’t need to throw your life away like this.”

Daigo didn’t reply, because he didn’t like the real answer. There wasn’t much of a life to throw away. He was doing everyone a favour with this.

“You bring me up here just to lecture me old man?” he growled, narrowing his eyes.

Still looking for someone to fight. Kashiwagi would wipe the floor with him, he knew that, but he didn’t care. He also knew he wouldn’t get that kind of satisfaction.

Didn’t mean Kashiwagi wasn’t frustrated with his attitude. He closed his eyes, clenching his fists and let out a deep exhale from his nose. “I saw your mother today. She’s been trying to call you all morning.”

“I know.” The empty glass was set down heavily, with a grunt. Daigo dug around for his phone, holding it out so Kashiwagi could see the countless missed calls and texts from her on the home screen. “I know what today is.”

“...and is that why you’re-”

“You know I’m like this anyway.” He stared at the texts, all similar in tone - Daigo, please call me. Daigo, it’s important. Are you okay? He got them most days from his mother. She was trying so hard. He didn’t want her to. He would rather she forget about him. She deserved that much.

Kashiwagi wasn’t looking at him, staring up at the ceiling as he thought of what to say next.

“I understand that...none of us could have predicted the extent of what your father was like.”

Daigo did a double take, noticing Kashiwagi immediately cringe. At least he knew what he said was stupid.

“Sorry, that was-”

“Yeah. It was.” Daigo looked up, head cocked to his shoulder. “Anyone could have guessed, really. We just pretended otherwise, because somehow he seemed to be the only thing keeping the Tojo Clan from completely falling apart.”

He was up in Kashiwagi’s face now, feeling his chest clench tight. He was working himself up over nothing, over that bastard. He hated it, but thinking of what his father did to get himself killed, the kind of man he was, it made his skin crawl.

“He deserves to spend every birthday after what he did having the most miserable time in hell,” he said with a hiss, noticing his voice wobbling, “I know it. You know it. But Mom refuses to let go-”

The slap felt cathartic, for both of them. Daigo shut his eyes and nodded as his cheek stung. He deserved that. He was trying to provoke that kind of reaction and got exactly that.

“I take back what I said. That boy you were is still there. An insolent brat,” Kashiwagi said, walking back to his desk, “Daigo, one day, you’re going to have to grow up. You can’t keep doing this until you die.”

He threw a semi-sympathetic look over his shoulder, but Daigo mostly felt it was piteous. That’s what he was. A pitiful, useless mess.

“Go home, Daigo. Call your mother. And for everyone’s sake, don’t have anything else to drink tonight.”

Daigo sucked in through his teeth and nodded again as he walked toward the door.

“...good night, Kashiwagi-san.”

No response. Yup. I deserve this.

He made his way home in a daze, everything working in automatic. Kashiwagi’s words kept echoing in his head, over and over.

You can’t keep doing this until you die.

Because that’s what he was trying to do, wasn’t it? Die. Suicide by hedonism. He was born already holding the worst hand life could deal, and he was never going to get anything better. After his father was killed, the one tiny scrap of potential good he could have in his life was gone, even if that prospect was a life of crime.

So why not? Why should he grow up when there was nothing to grow up for?

The moment he was inside his apartment, he slid down the door, staring blankly ahead. He’d needed that talking to, he needed a few really, from people who were currently pretending like he didn’t exist. That’s what he really needed. For Kiryu to talk to him, apologise for ruining his life, try and talk some sense into him. He always knew what to do.

But it was like he didn’t exist. Kiryu didn’t care. Kashiwagi tried to care, but knew he was a lost cause. Who did care?

Daigo opened up his phone again, staring at the missed calls and sighed. That’s who cared. Mom.

He should talk to her. He knew he should. He was an awful son who loved his mother very much, which is why he knew she deserved better. She was trying despite knowing she’d made mistakes, but he just couldn’t let that go.

He hovered on her number, ready to press the button to call...but instead he tossed his phone to land on the couch, walked to the kitchen and wrapped his fingers around the neck of the vodka bottle still on the counter.

He licked his lips, swallowed heavily...but let go, pushing it away.

“You win this time old man,” he grumbled, picking up an energy drink and the donuts he’d bought earlier in the day instead. Kashiwagi could never be allowed to know that though.

He knew this self-control wouldn’t last long. Come morning, he’d be shaking again, a hangover banging in his skull, and he’d be dragging himself towards that bottle like it was the source of life.

The same thing every day.

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

He couldn’t have it any other way.

[a-bottomless-curse]

𝐒𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬.

—001. WHAT DOES YOUR MUSE SMELL LIKE?

It normally depends on the situation. Before she entered Yharnam (for the second time) she often smelled like ink, parchment, medicinal ointments, faintly floral via candles, and rain. After entering Yharnam, her connection to the sea (particularly with her habit of having high insight) grew stronger and she starts smelling constantly of sea salt. 

The rest of her usual scent depends on if she’s been able to have a break from the hunt or not. If she hasn’t, then she smells of dried blood, rust, the muffled scent of mint leaves (the leaves she carries in order to give her some clarity when she struggling during the hunt to gather her thoughts, either by smelling them and getting that shock to her system with how strong her sense of smell is combined with the already strong scent of mint, or to eat for similar reasons), metal shavings, and the subtle scent of the oil she uses to keep her blade and the thread clean and easy to use.

When she is able to take a break from the hunt though, she still smells of sea salt of course, but she is also more likely to smell of herbs (from her lotions and ointments for her back), mint in particular, as well as whatever flowers or floral candles she manages to get her hands on (preferring scents like lilac, lavender, rosemary, honeysuckle, mint, chamomile, and other soft florals). She occasionally ever will wear mellow perfumes (if she decides to attend a service, this is normally when she wears them), as well as her paints and the ink she uses for writing.

—002. WHAT DO YOUR MUSE’S HANDS FEEL LIKE?

Partially calloused, with the most noticeable ones being on along her palm where she grips her Threaded Cane, the pad of her thumbs, and between the knuckles of her index and middle fingers, where she holds paintbrushes and ink pens. However, she does lotion when she can, and with her gloves protecting her hands during the hunt, the callouses are not necessarily immediately noticeable, they are still present and never go away.

—003. WHAT DOES YOUR MUSE USUALLY EAT IN A DAY?

Given the lifestyle that Hunters have, she tends to stick to either easy to carry snacks, or small meals that quick and easy to both eat and prepare. Cooked or raw vegetables, dried fruits, cured and dried meats (usually beef jerky sticks), slices of bread, and nuts carried in cheese cloth or designated bottles/packets on her person are the most common snacks she’ll have on her person. If she is able to, she’ll also bring three separate flasks with her while patrolling the streets. One of saloop, one of bone broth, and one of either tea or alcohol (or spiked tea on occasion). These flasks are specifically so that she can maintain protein and sugar levels if she needs to move fast, and the alcohol flask is for dulling pain when she hasn’t been hurt enough to feel the need to take blood.

When she finds the time to cook, she makes a lot of stews (particularly beef and vegetable stews), knows how to make her own jellys and jams and about a quarter of her pantry is filled with them, along with plenty of pies. Meat pies, mince pies, vegetable pies, and fruit pies. She makes a lot of them. Most of the meals she has revolves around getting a lot of protein in her body considering her lifestyle. But she also makes sure to have something sweet when she can, usually either with small cakes (including tea cakes), honey (when she can find it), sugarplums (when she can get the ingredients together), or something like bread pudding since that can last for a couple days at least.

A look inside her pantry will show that she has; jelly and jams of a variety of easy to make flavors, bottled bone broth (for when she’s tired but needs something in her body), plenty of stored jerky, shelves of root vegetables or any sort of vegetable that has a long shelf life, bottled honey/honeycomb, bottled dried fruits and nuts, and a sizeable collection of various herbs/roots for cooking.

—004. DOES YOUR MUSE HAVE A GOOD SINGING VOICE?

She doesn’t sing much, preferring to hum more often than not. However, one of the skills her mother wanted her to learn, that her grandmother and school teachers taught her though, was the art of singing. She likes to sing lullabies oddly enough, and there what she’ll normally hum to herself when she’s working or doing something. She’s comfortable in both the Mezzo and Alto ranges, though she tends to be more of a lower-range Mezzo more often than not.

—005. DOES YOUR MUSE HAVE ANY BAD HABITS OR NERVOUS TICKS?

Popping her knuckles is a bad habit she has that first came about when she entered school and needed to do something to subtly (ish) relieve tension in classes but only got worse once she was diagnosed with an illness and back issues. Chewing on her bottom lip became a bad habit in her younger years when in Yharnam that stuck with her throughout her life (even though her hated it as she was apparently ‘ruining her own value to future husbands’). Tapping her fingers against any surface, specifically if she is deep in thought (or thinking about things that trouble her) or simply because she’s waiting for something to happen is more of a nervous tick for her. She also shifts her weight and will slightly bounce on the balls of her feet for similar reasons.

—006. WHAT DOES YOUR MUSE USUALLY LOOK LIKE / WEAR?

Linen shirts, embroidered vests, leather overcoats, Hunter gear, top hats and hats of a variety really, gloves (including archery gloves), neckties (slim and simple or fancy and large, depends on her mood), lace and satin frocks, satin or linen nightgowns/nightshirts, linen or cotton trousers, riding trousers and boots, leather boots, cotton ‘adventuring’ clothes, soft slip ons, simple dresses, petticoats of cotton & linen, the occasional ballgown, rings & earrings & necklaces (particularly lockets and anything with rocks embedded in the jewelry). Overall, she likes to go for a ‘lady gentleman look’ or for the look of a wandering writer. She also likes having clothes where she doesn’t mind getting dirty in (as in, going into the woods and not carrying if dirt/sap or anything of that matter gets on her). Lots of purples, blues, and greens, but also black & white, and some pastel colors (such as pink) that match her mood.

She tries to keep her wardrobe full of clothing that matches all aspects of her personality/moods and what she likes to wear regardless of her upbringing. She normally stays away from the fancier side of her clothing (minus the jewelry) and likes her clothing to be lightweight (hence so much linen) as well as easy to move in. Much of her wardrobe started to form in this way as an act of rebellion against her mother who wanted her to always look dressed up/doll like

—007. IS YOUR MUSE AFFECTIONATE?  HOW MUCH?  HOW SO?

Oh yes, of course she is. So much of her actions, of her beliefs and decisions and drive come from love, specifically loving others. Being deeply affectionate was bound to follow and be such a deep set part of her as a person. Even though she has a strange relationship with receiving affection, it’s an intrinsic part of her nature to give both love and affection frequently and freely whenever she can. And, in this, she tries to be honest to those who receive her affection about why and how deeply she cares for them. In the same vein though, she doesn’t want to come across as forcing others into loving her, particularly due to deep-seated trauma in being treated (and even told on occasion) by her parents that she can not be loved for who she is without changing or hiding her true self away. So, while she tries to find a balance between being open and honest about her feelings and affections (whether platonic or romantic), more often than not she will lean into showing through subtle (and not so subtle) gestures, because she doesn’t want anyone she loves to even for a moment think that she does not love or accept them.

In order to show her affection, she will do a few things frequently: seeking to spend a lot of time together, gentle touches (the brevity of which depends on how she feels the touch might be received), cooking for them, discussing topics of interest with, carving out moments of peace and calm that they can enjoy without worrying about immediate bloodshed. She will also try to grow more familiar with those she cares out, both silently (usually making mental notes of mannerisms, small things they say in passing that seem important, and learning to read body language) and by asking simple questions that can lead them to discusses themselves. She also likes to give gifts, both bought and handmade, to those she cares about as a reminder that they are thought of and cared about. Endearments and being vocal (either subtly or bluntly depending on who she’s talking to) about her affections and feelings are also common things for her to do. And lastly, she will sacrifice for them nearly whatever they ask.

Out of all the above, spending time together, either in calm and comfort or watching over them during a hunt by going together, is Kaydens’ favorite way to show affection as spending time together usually makes it easier for her to show her affections for those she cares about. However, she prefers the calm and comfort as a setting to spend time together given that it opens more windows for vulnerability and allows for the softer and small intimacies to show themselves more freely.

—008. WHAT POSITION DOES YOUR MUSE SLEEP IN?

If she makes it to her bed, then she likes to lay on her stomach, partially starfished, or on her side leaning on/against some pillows. If she makes it to her couch, then she normally falls asleep on her back with her hat on her face. If she doesn’t make it to either of those places (such as, she needs to sleep outside her or a close companions home), then she usually will sleep with her back against a wall and upright, or sitting down/curled up in a ball with her gun in hand in a hidden location. She can sleep in just about any position, but she prefers those.

—009. COULD YOU HEAR YOUR MUSE IN THE HALLWAY FROM ANOTHER ROOM?

If she doesn’t want to be heard, then she won’t be. She’s learned, from when she was a child sneaking through her parents home to read and write unsupervised, how to balance her weight and move in tandem with her clothes and even jewelry so that she’s not heard or that whatever soft sounds she makes blend in with the background, even if it’s just the wind. She’s able to keep up this stealthily movement ability up until she needs to full out run, in which case she is more likely to be heard, but only briefly. 

The more likely reason she could be heard in the hallway from another room is if she has a frenzy moment, or if she got caught up in her thoughts and started humming or working through her thoughts via talking to herself. Otherwise, she’s normally very quiet with her movement.

Tagged by: @derjaegermond​ (thank youuu!)

Tagging: again, don’t know really who’s done it yet so, anyone who wants to do this steal it and do it :D

[thearcana-junkie]

He Doesnt Get Mad. He Gets Even.

Pairing; Asra X MC

Type; Funny//Angsty

WARNINGS; Angry Asra. Revenge. Name calling.

Authors Notes(?);

* Valerian root is known to have sedative effects, which is one reason it's used for insomnia. However, using valerian may lead to vivid dreams or even nightmares in some people.

Long-ish fic under the cut.

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Asra doesn't get angry, or at least you've never seen him get angry— actually, that's not true. You've seen him mad, agitated, annoyed. But this Asra, The one standing in front of your that was absolutely fuming to the point you could feel it in his magic aura. You were absolutely shocked to the point you weren't even paying attention to the person his anger was directed at. It all happened so fast too.

Today was one of those days— The ones where you kinda had your head in the clouds and didn't really pay attention which was fine since it was a very slow day with customers. Most just wanted a certain herb or pre-made potion you had on the shelves.

One guy though, this guy who already seemed in a bad mood, he came in. "I need a potion." He asserted as soon as he came in, his voice jarring you from your thoughts. "Hm? Yeah, sure what kind?" You asked in a rather bored tone. "A sleeping potion." He replied that would explain why he seemed to grouchy. You could tell by his aura, his tone of voice, the way he stood so stiff and crouched like he was a snake ready to strike at the first dumb comment.

Luckily you knew exactly where these were so he would be out of your head, You turn and skim over the cabinet your eyes landing where the potion should have been.

That right, you'd sold the last one earlier to a girl with bags under her eyes.

You sighed through your nose, you'd have to make a new one meaning the longer he was here. Just his presence turned your mood. "I'll have to make a new one." You stated, "Well get on with it you don't need to ask permission." He retorted with a snarl like a dog. You just rolled your eyes at the comment giving him the benefit of the doubt, he was tired.

You had made these potions all the time since Julian was a regular when he wasn't at Mezlinka's house and didn't have her special soup he came here to get a potion. You could make this potion with your eyes closed— or so you thought.

You began adding ingredients needed, halfway through you got lost in thought again. You finished it quicker than normal and handed it to the man who paid and left.

That was that, you wouldn't have to deal with him anymore.

The next day your head was firmly on your shoulders unlike the day before. You were more grounded and paid more attention. Today Asra was upstairs asleep since he and you had stayed up last night rolling around in the sheets, you didn't blame him for sleeping in since he worked really hard.

While you were restocking some potions that had run out. You heard the bell ring and turned around to see a familiar grouchy face from the day before. "You lying witch!" He snapped as he slammed the door behind him. You grabbed one of the potions that had fallen off the shelf from the jarring slam. Your eyebrow raised and you gave a confused expression along with a "Huh?".

"That potion you gave me yesterday made me have nightmares all night! Some sleeping potion! You shouldn't be allowed to sell fake potions!!" He all but yelled as he put the empty potion bottle on the counter. You reached over and grabbed it, you took a whiff and you were instantly hit the strong smell of Valerian root*. That would explain a lot. You stuck your finger in and scooped up some of the liquid left and tasted it, you cringed. That's now how it's supposed to taste. It was missing ingredients.

"Ah, Sorry I made it wrong yesterday." You hummed with a happy expression, you not faltering to his aggressiveness made his blood boil more so than before.

Soft thumps came from the stairs as a tired Asra walked down to see al the commotion.

"Here you can have some of the new ones I made this morning. On the hous-" you were cut off by the man knocking the potion out of your hand. It shattered on the ground, Now this had Asra's attention. What's with this guy?

"I don't want anything from you! If you can't even make a simple potion that is apparently so sought after you had none yesterday then why would I trust any other potions you had. For all I know that could be poison." He raised his voice as he chewed you out for your minor error. This didn't sit well with Asra. "Hey, it was a mistake!" Asra stepped in.

"I suppose you're their boss? How do you manage to hire someone so incompetent and dumb!?" He snapped. Asra narrowed his eyes, the man was insulting you! Who does he think he is to insult someone he loved, someone he adored, someone who he saw as a god among mortals.

Asra's blood boiled in aggression as he stood in front of you. "Oh, I'm so sorry MR perfect! Here have a potion on the house." Asra growled as he grabbed a potion any potion and opened it, he dumped the continents on the man who gasped in shock. "How dare you!?" The man yelled. "How dare me? How dare you! You come in yelling at someone you don't even know over some minor inconvenience, calling them dumb!" Asra snapped with such anger is honestly surprised him.

You'd never seen him so angry, even when fighting Lucio he never got so angry. He was mad sure, and when you first started hanging out with Julian is was annoyed and jealous but this was so much more. His eyes dilated, showing so much aggression they threatened the kill the man with only a glare. His hands in a fist as he held back the urge to just hit the man, just once, he wanted to just once.

"Oh! And if they're the dumb one then maybe you should know that the word Incompetence and DUMB mean the same damn thing, you moron!" Asra added with a snarl. "Get out!!" He snapped as he pushed the man with so much force out the door that seemed to open on it own onto the street. Asra slammed the door shut, not as hard as the man did when he walked in.

Asra was panting softly from all the adrenaline. Your soft touch on his shoulder made him look at you, his expression changing from aggression to a soft one instantly. "Hey." You smiled as if announcing that you there for the first time, and to Asra you were. He hadn't even realized you were in the room when he was yelling. His body swiveled around as he hugged you tightly as if to tell you that everything the man had said was a lie silently.

His hug was also an unspoken promise.

A promise that he'd always protect you whether from a goat demon or from an angry customer.

The rest of the day he closed the shop so he could just lay with you and whisper how much you meant to him. Honestly what the man said didn't even bother you but if this meant Asra would baby you so much you'd gladly be chewed out by any and every customer.

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A few weeks later.

You were in the shop, Asra was reading on the couch. The door opened and the man from a few weeks ago stumbled in. Upon seeing him again you'd expect Asra to be angry but he wasn't, in fact, Asra only looked up from his book momentarily.

The man was stumbling, his eyes had horrible bags under his eyes. "Please! I'm sorry! I'm really sorry!!! Please I need sleep!!!" The man all but cried as he laid on the counter staring at you with eyes full of sorrow. "Please take off whatever curse you put on me." He begged.

You raised an eyebrow as you eyed the man. "I didn't..." you mumbled, you noised the necklace around the man's neck that looked familiar, you narrowed you eyes as you reached over and pulled it until the string snapped. You eyed the necklace knowing exactly what was going on. "There, your good to go." You said as you waved the man off. The man quickly left to go home and finally get some sleep.

You walked over to Asra and stood in front of him. "Asraaaa." You scolded. He looked up from his book and at the necklace in your hand with one big Shit-eating grin. "Asra did you have Muriel make a hex charm!" You scudded, he laid his book down and pulled you into his lap laying his head on your shoulder as he pulled your back to his chest. "I assure you I have no idea what you're talking about My love." He said as he smirked softly.

Like I said before, Asra doesn't get mad— He gets even.

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