#hopefully it's coherent to anyone else

[grandline-fics]

True love’s kiss with Sabo please?

DESCRIPTION: True Love's Kiss- The moment they realise they're in love

WARNINGS:  none, just fluff

CHARACTERS: Sabo

WORDS: 1,197

A/N: I'm still slowly working my way through this Valentine's requests and I promise the masterlist will be finished. However that's not going to stop me from still posting other requests or working on other original stuff including on-going series like Immune To Your Charms, Forget-Me-Not (that I will hopefully have the next chapter of written this month), or any new stuff I might think of. Hope you all enjoy and thank you again for your amazing support 💕

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST | KO-FI | VALENTINES EVENT MASTERLIST

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Sabo had spent most of his life surrounded by the Revolutionary Army. Quite literally for a very long time it was all he knew. The ideals and goals of Dragon, were his too and he spent his waking life learning, training, working to make the future his leader saw become a reality. If he wasn’t at the Revolutionary Base, honing his skills, he would be on missions. As misleading as his usually laid-back and playful nature was, Sabo was a hardworking man, with his mind only ever on the job and gave very little time to relaxing beyond the set aside time needed to sleep. At least that's the way it had been.

Koala walked into one of the lounge rooms of the Revolutionary Base to see you reading over a mission brief. You were completely relaxed, cheek resting against your hand while the other held the file with your feet tucked under you. She let out a small huff of amusement to cast her gaze down to see Sabo lying on the sofa with you, his head on your lap and one arm reaching back to encircle your legs while the other was resting against his chest. With his top hat askew to hang over his face it was impossible to see his expression but the sight alone told Koala and anyone else walking by that he was peacefully asleep. 

It was impossible to ignore and not to find some amusement out of the scene in front of her. The Chief of Staff actually taking time to relax and nap? It may have been a sight that was becoming a more regular thing but it was still something everyone took the time to savour because for so long such a thought was laughable. Koala approached the sofa and smiled to you in greeting before lazily folding her arms on the back of the seat and peered down at the man who was her technically her superior. “Sabo?” She called out, her amusement growing to see him make the smallest movement and continue to sleep; his fingers on his chest barely twitching. If she hadn't been looking she would have missed it. “Sabo! Wanna train?”

Immediately Sabo stirred. Koala’s second attempt finally breaking through his subconscious, old habits died hard after all. With a long yawn, Sabo tipped his hat up to blink sleepily at Koala. His face twisted as he managed to come back to consciousness and form her words coherently in his mind. Sabo took another deep breath and rubbed his eyes before letting out a low, deep hum; not one of consideration to her invitation to train but one of complete ease. Koala’s eyebrows rose in mild surprise to see Sabo roll onto his side and hug your legs tighter as he relaxed once more in the new position. “Hmm maybe later.” He mumbled as another yawn began to build in his chest again. “Far too comfy right now.” 

His content sigh suddenly turned to a sharp gasp. Immediately he pushed himself up to look to you with an intense look. He didn’t even register the swiftness of the movement caused his hat to fall from his head and tumble onto the floor with a muffle thump. “Wait. When do you go for your mission?”

“Tomorrow afternoon.” You answered with a smile, finally looking away from the file in your hand to lightly drift your fingers through Sabo’s soft blond waves. Your smile growing when he leant into the touch and slumped back down on your lap once more only this time he was facing you, adjusted slightly so he could continue to look at you and enjoy the gentle and absent touch of your fingers running through and playing with his hair.

“Jeez Sabo I don't think you could look any more like a lovestruck puppy if you tried.” Koala laughed to herself. She looked solely to you and didn’t notice Sabo’s expression had frozen at her remark and teasingly added. “When you leave tomorrow, double check he hasn’t snuck on board.”

You playfully rolled your eyes and smiled as Koala pushed away from the sofa and left you both alone. You cast a glance at Sabo, intending to make a joking comment about Koala but you stopped and set your half-read mission brief aside on the armrest. Delicately you let your fingertips push back his hair from his face so you could skim over the scar against his eye while your newly freed hand lowered to entwine with his gloved fingers. “What’s up Chief?”

Sabo only stared at you. Not in a way for you to feel concerned. You could tell he was thinking deeply about something. You wouldn’t be surprised if he actually was formulating a plan to sneak onto your ship to join you on your mission. Partly because he wanted to be with you but also because you knew how restless he could be without something to do and training at the base and attending meetings- while extremely important- could only distract him for so long and didn’t quite scratch that itch that a mission would. You knew Sabo would give you an answer when he was ready, so for now you just patiently waited with a soft smile.

The truth was Sabo wasn’t thinking about anything to do with the Revolutionary Army or missions. No, the second Koala pointed out he was ‘lovestruck’ he was suddenly hit with the truth of it and now he was thinking what a fool he was to not have noticed sooner. Of course this was more than the simple romantic fling or basic relationship. Of course it was love. You were the only person who brought his restless, always active soul peace enough to find comfort and a place to relax in a way that no other being or force in this world could. “I could, y’know…”

“You could what?” You asked with a curious smile at his final musings. Sabo took your hand, keeping it against his face as he slowly sat up to inch closer to your face with his lips curling into a warm and adoring smile just for you. 

“I could look more lovestruck if I tried to because apparently I was doing such a bad job of it neither of us realised.” He explained with a grin when you blinked in surprise. “Love you.”

“Love you too, Sabo.” You confessed almost breathless but entirely sincere, your smile broad and heart warm as he closed the distance to kiss you with every ounce of the realised depth of his feelings for you. When you broke away you laughed softly and pressed another quick kiss against his lips before you had to reluctantly grab your mission file. The sooner you finished reading, the more time you got with Sabo before you had to leave. As he settled back down against your lap, with an unmovable smile you cast him a playfully suspicious stare. “This doesn’t mean you’re coming with me tomorrow.”

“We’ll see, love.” Sabo chuckled, with his eyes already closed and hand still firmly holding yours. He was still a restless workaholic after all. “We’ll see." 

——————————————-

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[brairslair]

Hii! I hope you've had a great day so far, could i request a trafalger law × fem!reader who's like super horny all the time and just begs for law's attention and his cock all the time? Do what you want with the request, I just want this to be the basic premise, also i would like a friends with benenfits relationship kinda thing, but they do like eachother but just arent together yet!

Thank you, and have a great day! Please remember to take breaks, don't rush yourself and to take care of yourself!

@kyokikia thank you so much for this request ml! so sorry for the actual insane wait 🙏🏻

EVERYONE IS 18+ (minors gtfo)

a/n: idk why i struggled so much with this prompt, but i think i got something kind of coherent? definitely not my best work and a lil short, but hopefully you enjoy reading what i came up with!

don’t forget to like, reblog, comment, and follow to support my work! it always makes my day mwah

“made me wait enough”

Your mouth waters as you watch Law lean back in his seat, legs spread, head thrown back in a frustrated groan. His hands drag down his face and a sliver of skin peaks out from where his shirt rides up, and you almost moan. Your fingers buzz with the desire to touch him.

It’s been torture all week. Law’s been absolutely drowning in work, to the point where he’s been sleeping through the nights in his office chair instead of his bed.

Usually, you were admittedly pretty needy; something Law liked to tease you for. Constantly running your mouth, begging for him to give you a drop of his attention, to take care of you and ease the ache that seems to always be present when he’s around. It’s absolutely agonizing to give him space, but you’ve always respected his work ethic and ambition, and would never want to get in his way.

However, he’s been making it inexplicably difficult for you to keep to yourself. He’s barely said a word to you or the rest of the crew that wasn’t a captain’s order. You’re starting to feel actual physical pain from the distance.

You’re used to spending much more time with him, having been best friends for the better part of the last four years. If anyone has the right to be frustrated with his absence, it’s you.

You miss talking to him.

You miss his company.

You miss the way he looks at you when you cling to him.

You miss the way his hands feel when he touches you.

Your legs discreetly press together where you stand, hovering at the entrance to his office, mug of hot coffee in hand.

Coffee usually helps stoke the flames when his energy starts to dwindle, so you figured you would bring him the much needed pick-me-up before you make your way to bed. Alone.

You didn’t factor in how difficult it would be to keep yourself from jumping his bones.

Seemingly unaware of your ogling, you clear your throat to make yourself known before stepping in, setting the steaming mug on his desk.

“Thought you could use it.” You smile awkwardly, trying to conceal the filthy thoughts swirling in your head while he looks up at you through half lidded eyes. You could strangle him for making this so difficult.

He glances at the mug, then back at you, muttering a soft “Thank you.”

He looks mesmerizing when he’s tired. Hazy, far off, and soft around the edges. Your chest is aching and your throat burns with hidden desires clawing their way up your throat.

“Is there anything else you need, Captain? I’m heading to bed.” You mutter softly, praying he’ll take the hint and decide to join you.

His eyebrows twitch but he simply shakes his head, “This should do.”

His eyes burn through to your soul.

Usually you would have caved long ago, whining and begging for him to let you touch him, to take care of you the way he knew you needed it, but you wouldn't cave this time. You needed to remind yourself that he's an important man with important duties to attend to, and you would rather suffer than hold him back.

Instead, you force out a curt “Goodnight”, turning on your heels before the dam breaks and you start babbling nonsense.

Before you can take a step towards the door, you’re halted by a gentle hand around your wrist. The touch makes you shudder, biting back a whine. You missed his hands.

“You’ve been different.” Law states quietly, though you know it’s meant to be a question.

You can’t allow yourself to look at him yet. You know you’ll cave.

“You’ve been busy.”

Law hums in understanding and disappointment, gently tugging your arm to face him. Your legs feel like jelly under his gaze.

The longer he looks at you, the more aware you are of how dry your mouth is suddenly, how your stomach feels tight with restraint, and how he’s looking at you like he can read your every thought.

Law soothes his thumb along your pulse, stopping to feel your heart race beneath his fingertip. His sharp smile twists into your gut.

It fascinates you, the patience and temperment Law expresses so easily, things you’ve never been able to harness.

With a shaky sigh, you finally let go of your tongue, unable to hold back any longer.

“Please, Law? I need you.”

His hands are on you in an instant, smoothing over your curves like butter as he pulls you to straddle his hips. The second his lips touch yours, you can’t stop yourself from pulling and twisting at his shirt, seconds away from ripping it to shreds. Needy whines flow freely as you desperately rock your hips.

Law rubs a calming hand against your back, and you can feel the corners of his lips twitch with a smile against yours.

He teasingly nips at your bottom lip, and is pleased at the lewd noise it draws from your throat.

“There she is.” He grins, and you groan when he pulls away to trail down your neck. His fingers dance under your shirt, leaving goosebumps up your back as he makes work to unclasp your bra.

Your skin feels like it’s on fire, melting into him like molten lava. Every touch sends your brain into overdrive, and you need to feel more.

“Please, Law, don’t tease me.” You whine, hips stuttering, struggling to keep up with your head, “I’ve been so patient. I didn’t wanna disturb your work, but I can’t help it.”

You ramble into his ear, already barely coherent and digging your nails into his shoulders to steel yourself.

You press yourself against his chest, kissing and licking at his jaw, “I’ve missed you.”

Law cradles your cheek to sweetly kiss the corner of your mouth, dotting a feather light trail across your cheek. It’s his way of saying “I missed you too. I’m sorry.”

Your hand trails down to the zipper of his pants, but he stops you, pulling your wrist to his lips before placing it back on his shoulder. You protest as tears start to dot at your lash line.

“Let me feel you. I need to feel you.” You’re begging now, trembling against him as your patience dwindles. “I need you so bad it hurts.”

Law kisses you softly, like an anchor pulling you back down to him, grounding you. He tugs at your shirt in a silent order, and you pull away only to throw it carelessly on the floor beside you, along with your bra.

His cold hands immediately trail your exposed skin, not leaving an inch untouched. You’re practically limp against him at this point, overwhelmed and sobbing into his chest.

“Just fuck me already, made me wait enough.” You plead, tugging at his hair as you whisper filth in his ear, “Need your cock, Law, so bad. Please.”

A groan rumbles in his chest at your words, twitching in his pants. His fingers press into the fat of your hips, slowing your rocking motion to a slow rumble, rolling your clothed core against the tent in his jeans at an agonizingly perfect pace. His eyes darken when you gasp and whimper, already crumbling in his hands.

“Cum for me like this and I’ll give you anything you want.”

asks are open!

[vixstarria]

A night at the inn (part 1)

A night of relaxation at the inn. Inspired by a cursed screenshot of Astarion looking loopy, drunk and high.   

Astarion x Reader, Astarion x Tav, tbc in part 2

Comfort, fluff, humour, banter, goes from very silly to very horny 

Bits that are definitely not canon that were written solely for my (and hopefully your) amusement. 

TW: It’s all very much in jest, but maybe give this one a skip if you’re struggling with any kind of substance addiction.  

Approximately 2,000 words 

AO3

“Don't be ridiculous, these silly druidic herbs have absolutely no effect on me, vampires have a natural immunity. Pass me the pipe again, I’ll prove it,” Astarion giggled uncontrollably.  

“Just hold on to it, friend, I don’t think anyone else will benefit from it,” replied Halsin. 

You, Astarion, Halsin, Karlach and Shadowheart were gathered in one of the inn’s rooms.  

Gale and Wyll were off doing whatever people who didn’t like having fun did. Possibly playing chess or reciting poetry to each other. And Lae’zel had had one look at your gathering before chk’ing, saying that someone competent needed to keep a cool head, and stalking off. 

You and Astarion were sitting crosswise on one of the beds, you nestled between his legs, your back against his chest. Shadowheart lounged on the opposite bed, with Karlach and Halsin settling on the floor between the beds.  

A scattering of glasses and opened bottles surrounded you, and a light haze hung in the air. Tadpoles, vampire lords, demons and gods could all wait until tomorrow. Tonight, for all you cared, all was well in your world.   

Earlier, Halsin had laid out an assortment of herbs, most of which you couldn’t name, and busied himself with mixing them in varying proportions and stuffing them into several smoking implements. Karlach had declined, saying there was no point and that she would stick to grog. You and Shadowheart partook in Halsin's ‘herbalist mastery' together with the druid. And now, to everyone's disbelief and amusement, so did Astarion. 

“What in the hells is in this?!” Astarion tittered, leaning back against the wall, his eyes shut and an idiotic smile on his face. You couldn’t look at him, lest it set off yet another chain reaction of giggling. 

“Part of it is moonflower, which mostly serves as an amplifier,” Halsin answered, cautiously. 

“And? What else?” You wondered whether whatever it was might help Astarion with his nightmares. The scent of the herb was vaguely familiar, but you couldn’t quite place what it was.  

“Wait! I want to guess.” Shadowheart leaned over to whisper to Halsin. He shook his head at her suggestions. Once he whispered back to her with the correct answer she collapsed on the bed with a guffaw. “Oh gods... So it is official.” 

“Halsin...” Astarion croaked. “Halsin, I will stab you... What did you give me?!” 

“I had a hunch, but it was intended as a joke – I didn’t really think it would do anything.” Halsin almost sounded apologetic.  

“Well, spill the beans, what is he smoking that’s so damned funny?! Vampire dust? Cow dung? Some kind of goblin foot fungus?” Karlach was also growing impatient.  

Halsin shook his head, laughing.  

“It’s catnip,” Shadowheart managed, still doubled over. “He’s losing his mind on catnip!” 

Once Astarion regained his ability to speak coherently, you couldn’t get him to shut up.  

Astarion hardly ever took lead in group conversations. He tended to stay on the outskirts of discussions, albeit always ready with a quip or observation. You wondered if his newfound loquaciousness was a glimpse of what he might have been like some 200 years ago. 

It helped that Karlach was bombarding him with questions about vampirism, which he was ordinarily reserved about.  

“So what happens if you consume normal food? Can you drink?” she asked. 

“Well... Kind of..? Although I think the tadpole has had some additional influence. I can drink liquids without becoming ill, as long as it’s not too much. They tend to taste vile or like nothing at all, or not have any effect on me. Coffee smells amazing but tastes like dirt, for example. But potions work, somehow,” he rambled. “Solids are a complete disaster though”. He refused to elaborate.  

“And the wine?” she persisted.  

“Red wine is palatable,” he said, swirling some in a glass that he held in his hand. “But if you want better than ‘palatable’ you really need something of good quality.” 

“You’re just a snob,” you interjected. 

“That may be so, but this is about having something called standards, darling, I’ll teach you about them someday”, he said with a kiss to your temple, as you elbowed him. “But there are ways of going around poor wine.” 

Astarion took your hand in his, pressing his lips against it. 

“May I?”  

Once he had your approval, he carefully punctured the tip of your ring finger with a fang. You idly mused about how completely unfazed you had become by having your skin pierced, as he dripped some of your blood into his wine. 

“Now stir.” He licked the drops of wine from your finger once you were done, and had a sip from his glass. “Like adding honey to tea... Now it’s delectable.” 

“Freaks,” said Karlach, lovingly.  

The conversation moved to him debating wines from various regions with Shadowheart, a subject they were both perhaps unsurprisingly well-versed in.  

“How kind of Lady Shar to leave you such detailed knowledge of something that truly matters, when wiping out so many other memories,” he observed.  

Eventually, the topic changed to Karlach’s years in the Hells, and what it had been like to set just about everything she touched ablaze until Dammon’s recent assistance.  

“Could you do me a favour and hold my hand in yours for a moment?” said Astarion, leaning towards and holding out a hand to Karlach.  

“I haven’t done this in so long this still makes me nervous, you know,” she said, taking his hand in both of hers. “Sorry if I lose my cool and burn you.” 

“I’m sure I’ve had worse,” he replied humourlessly. “...That should do it,” he said after a short while. “Gods, you really do run like a furnace.” You wondered where this was going.  

“Now could everyone look away? I’m about to do something disgustingly sentimental.” 

Immediately, four pairs of eyes including your own were locked on him.  

“Voyeuristic pricks...” he sighed. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” 

He ran the back of his fingers delicately down your cheek before cupping it in his hand. It was warm, almost hot, as you nuzzled into it.  

“Well isn’t that cute,” Shadowheart remarked into her glass of wine.  

Astarion wasn’t always cold to the touch, not exactly. He became warmer after drinking blood. His body was heated by sunshine on sunny days, just like anything else. And after spending some time under blankets with you he felt almost cozy to snuggle against. But he’s never radiated heat the way the hand against your cheek did now.  

“It doesn’t feel like you,” you mustered, looking into his eyes. He gave you a wistful smile.  

“...If there is any other bodypart you’d like me to warm up for Tav’s benefit, do fuck off before you even ask,” said Karlach, breaking the brief silence that had descended onto the room, and the tender moment was gone, overtaken by yet another uproar of laughter. 

Things quieted down as the evening wore on. 

“I wonder what Lae’zel is doing,” said Shadowheart, who had been silently gazing off into space and occasionally blowing smoke rings for the past while. “Probably something infuriating.” 

“You should go tell her how utterly unimpressed you are with her,” goaded Astarion. 

“I should... I will,” she said, suddenly getting up, determination writ on her face, exiting the room with a surprisingly steady step. 

Karlach sighed. 

“I better go look after her and make sure they don’t need to be taken apart. ...Or that no one else does, if they don’t.” She followed Shadowheart.  

“Nature calls,” said Halsin, also getting up. “And I don’t think anyone’s fed Scratch and the owlbear cub.” 

It was just you and Astarion, who had been grazing your neck with his fangs with increasing impatience. 

“Do it,” you said as soon as the door shut behind Halsin. Instantly, you felt an icy chill in your neck and released a small moan as he bit down, drawing your blood, his hands roaming your body.  

“I’ve been thinking of nothing else for hours,” he breathed hoarsely, once he had his fill. Having a miniscule amount of your blood in his wine and then being unable to sate himself more thoroughly would have been the ultimate tease for him. He really did not think that through, per usual.  

You could have offered him your wrist at some point, your companions had witnessed that on numerous occasions. But you knew you both wanted something more intimate. And private.  

You sank onto the bed with Astarion on top of you, as he continued to lick at the puncture wounds, to get them to stop bleeding.  

“Think Halsin’s coming back?” you murmured.  

“Of course he is. Haven’t you seen how he’s been looking at us?” He wedged his hips between your legs as he continued to suck and lick at your neck, more slowly now.  

"Oh, has he been looking at us in some particular way?” you feigned ignorance. Astarion raised his head briefly to shoot you a look that said ‘oh please’.  

“Do you want him..?” He rolled his hips deliciously into yours as he asked that.  

“Stop teasing,” you whispered. You knew he wasn’t going to let you do anything with the erection you felt pressed against you. 

“Never. Do you want him?” He gave you a mischievous look.  

“I don’t know what you mean.” 

“Sorry darling, I’ll try to do a better job at explaining.” He raised himself back up, his face hovering just above yours. “Do you want to feel his hot, hard cock pumping in and out of you, while I watch?” He studied your reaction closely. “Oh you would like that, wouldn’t you..?” 

“Astarion-” It wasn’t easy to make you blush, but somehow he always found a way when he wanted to.   

“Shh love, I already know everything you’re going to say.” Astarion raised his voice in pitch (resulting in something that definitely DID NOT sound anything like you) and returned to your neck, planting a kiss further down with each sentence: “’I love you, Astarion. I only want you, Astarion. I don’t think you’re ready for this, Astarion. You’re going to regret this, Astarion.’” 

“How about, ‘you’re intoxicated, Astarion’?” 

“Barely,” he scoffed. “It’s worn off.” He tugged at your blouse’s lacing with his teeth. 

“Or maybe it’s ‘no, I don’t want that, Astarion’,” you lied.  

He chuckled at those words and came back up to whisper in your ear. 

“My love... You’re forgetting I can hear your heartbeat. I can smell your arousal. Every time your breath hitches and your heart speeds up – I know. Any time blood suddenly rushes somewhere in your body – I know...”  

“That is an entirely unfair advantage,” you protested. 

“Yes, having a lover that anticipates your every need and reads you like a book is so, so tragically unfair, your poor, poor thing...” 

“And also it’s not what you said, it’s how you said it!” you continued. 

“Porridge,” Astarion whispered in his most seductive voice, grinding against you. “The philosophy and theory of divination, volume four. A bulging coin purse. Gale’s purple pajamas. ...Nope, nothing.” Astarion smirked, and continued in a more normal voice, stilling. “Now let’s try... You dripping wet and begging us both for mercy before the night is over.” He grinned wryly as you let out an involuntary whimper. “I thought so...” 

“You’ve told me yourself, you don’t want to share me with anyone,” you persisted.  

“It’s your heart I can’t bear to share. And he’s a wood elf,” Astarion said dismissively. “He may as well be a walking penis, who would get emotionally involved with that?” 

“You did not just call our honourable companion, the esteemed archdruid of the Emerald Grove a walking penis!” you hissed, choking on laughter, covering his mouth with your hand.  

“A giant phallus on legs,” Astarion mumbled stubbornly against your palm, licking it.  

You heard footsteps approaching the door.  

“Do you really want this?” you whispered, angling Astarion’s face to make him look you in the eyes, and releasing his mouth. “Be serious for a second.” 

“I want this,” he said, holding your gaze. “I really want this. As long as you do too.” 

The door opened, and you both turned your heads to regard the tall, broad figure that paused in the entryway, leaning against the doorframe.  

“Is it company or privacy you desire?” 

~~~~~

Part 2

More of my chaos gremlins

AO3

[nanaken330]

tw: ramblings. Like seriously, even worse cuz it's UNEDITED so be warned.

Thinking abt Nanami catching fem!reader staring at his mouth/lips whenever they're conversing with e.o just cuz not too long ago, my lil sis told me Abt this particular habit of mine which hopefully doesn't come off weird to some ppl I've conversed with and I hope i didn't do it as often😭 CUZ I DEFINITELY DIDN'T REALIZE I WAS DOING THAT!

Anyway! Yeah, that's it.

In a cruel universe where he doesn't love her (but fortunately still alive and breathing cuz this universe's gege isn't really in the habit of k-wording off his children), he'd just ask if there's something wrong or if there's something he said that the reader doesn't understand, before the reader proceeded to deny that and asked him to continue his sentence. and that's that. (I say as I ignore that little bits about reader's smile wavered a bit ad she heard him continue talking in a business-like and somewhat formally distant tone no matter how long they've known e.o by then)

meanwhile, in another, maybe, slightly BETTER universe where they're both crushing on e.o (gojo gagged somewhere in the bg, before going quiet after being hit on the back of his head), when Nanami have already known of reader's habit of doing this (and prob also the fact that she did that more often when she was with him compared to anyone else), he'd often have to pause for a bit (to gather his composure and stopping himself from squishing her face out of cuteness aggression, maybe), clearing his throat lightly, with either his ears or the back of his neck reddening, before continuing his sentence as if nothing happened (just cuz he enjoys having her attention all to himself, and that she doesn't want her to feel embarrassed for being so obvious Abt it without even realizing).

AND FINALLY, in the much better universe where they're in love AND is officially together, he'd just found her reaction to be amusing and maybe even fond Abt it. He'd deliberately stopped talking mid sentence just to see if she'd notice before she'd blink a moment later, still maybe somewhat off minded, and once she finally gets some semblance of coherency, she'd ask if he could repeat his words, resulting in Nanami huffing out a small laugh before asking her to find somewhere to sit so they can take their time slowly and then begin to walk forward, not forgetting to take her hand to lead her somewhere.

Alternatively, he could even stop mid sentence to just, lean close to her face. Maybe he could even see her pupil widening, for what reason? Who knows, though he'd love it if it was because of him. But then again oddly enough, she still seem to be still a little bit out of it so in the end, maybe in a rare bout of mischief, he'd lean closer to give her a light kiss on her lips. Maybe a quick two and three, for good measure.

The kiss (or kisses) was so light that the touch doesn't even produces sound, but just enough to manage dragging reader from whatever daydream she's in.

"You're gone again." He'd say after leaning back to his original position. Meanwhile reader would still standing in the same place, blinking for a few times.

She'd sheepishly laugh, "Sorry, i was a little distracted before." And then she'd see the look in his eyes as if saying 'Obviously.'

---

End.

a/n. idk what I'm doing rn tbh

[moonstruckme]

Hello you wonderful, WONDERFUL creation of brilliance! I have another request for the 1k if thats alright.

I think it would be two ghosts?? But its reader x remus (again) where she know hes a werewolf without being told and uses halloween to tell/show him because she can see how guilty he feels for not telling her and scared to tell her.

How/why she knows and how she tells him is up to you love!!

Thank you love x (hopefully that's coherent, toddlers suck and ive only slept 3hrs 😭)

Thanks for requesting (and omg, I hope the toddler(s) become more manageable) <3

join the party

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

Remus comes to the door looking endearingly rumpled. He’s wearing pajama bottoms and a wrinkled t-shirt, his hair is fluffy from lying in bed all day, and his pillowcase has left a faintly pink crease on his cheek. You gather all this from the split second between him opening the door and promptly shutting it in your face. 

“Remus?” you knock again. “Come on, let me in.” 

After a moment in which you can picture him sighing laboriously on the other side, the door cracks open just wide enough for you to see one eye, narrowed with displeasure. Were it anyone else or under any other circumstances, you’d really be quite offended. “What are you doing here?” he asks.

You hold up your bag. “I didn’t think you’d want to face the slew of trick-or-treaters bound for your house alone. I brought movies for us and candy for them. Or, well, the candy can be for both, actually.” 

Remus is silent for a moment, and you press at the door insistently. “Let me in, Rem.” 

He capitulates with a sigh, stepping back to let the door fall open. His apartment is dark, every curtain drawn, and it takes your eyes a second to adjust after stepping out of the sunlight. There’s half a dozen empty takeout containers strewn about the coffee table, and the space has the stale aroma that comes from lack of movement. 

Remus has that aroma, too, you realize as you step closer to him, pressing a kiss to his cheek regardless. He looks like he could use it. 

“Sorry about the mess,” he says dully. “I wasn’t expecting you.” 

“Course you weren’t,” you wave him off. “How could you have been? You’ve been avoiding me all week.”

Remus closes his eyes as if this conversation is already too much for him, and you feel instantly guilty. 

“It’s okay, honey,” you say gently, stacking the takeout containers to clear some space for your candy. “You’re allowed to take some time to yourself. It’d be nice if you’d let me know in the future, but I’m not upset at you. I promise.” 

His features relax slightly, a tension you’d barely noticed around his eyes easing. “Thanks, love. Sorry.” 

“It’s really alright,” you promise, taking him by the hand to pull him down onto the couch with you. “Listen, you seem like you’re not feeling well, so I know you might not want company right now, but would you be open to just having a relaxing night? We can watch Halloween movies and eat sweets, and I’ll handle all the trick-or-treaters.” 

“Yeah?” Remus looks at you with something between hope and sadness, and your heart breaks for him. You squeeze his hand lightly, like your boyfriend is a sponge that you can squeeze all the woe out of and force to absorb your love instead. “That sounds really nice, dove. Thank you.” 

“Course,” you say brightly, and you’re unable to resist pressing your lips to his cheek again before you turn back to your bag, laying your small collection of movies on the table. “Okay, we have some options.” 

Remus hums. “Well, there’s Halloween, the obvious choice.” 

“But too obvious?” you muse. “I mean, we definitely have time to watch more than one, but we only get to watch these at a certain time of year, love. Let’s not be hasty.” He chuckles, and your heart flutters. “I know The Exorcist is a classic, but it might be too scary for me, honestly. Um…Dracula is good…oh! This one’s my favorite.” 

Remus looks to where you’re pointing. “The Werewolf of Washington?”

You pretend you don’t hear the slightly hoarse quality of his voice. “Yup! It’s so funny, and I like that it’s technically a Halloween movie even though werewolves aren’t really scary.” 

He pauses. “You don’t think so?”

You do your best to appear blasé, knowing you have to tread carefully here. “No, of course not,” you say, as if the mere idea is foolish. “I mean, they’re dangerous, sure, but as people, they don’t really mean any harm. It’s not their fault.” 

Remus is being oddly quiet, and you babble on anxiously. 

“If I were a werewolf, I’d hope my friends wouldn’t care about me any less. It’s not like it’s me, it’s just something I have to deal with once a month. I mean, would you stop loving me if I turned out to be a werewolf?”

“No,” Remus says slowly, eyes narrowed to the point where they’re just amber. The circles under his eyes look really dark, you note with concern. You wonder if he hasn’t been sleeping. “Is there something you’re trying to tell me?” 

You take a breath, gnawing on your lip. “I think it’s more about if there’s anything you want to tell me.”

He slouches into the cushions, features slackening in resignation. “Seems like you already know.” 

“I’m sorry to do it this way,” you say genuinely, grateful that he hasn’t pulled his hand from your grip as you run your thumb over his knuckles soothingly. “I know it’s your secret, and you should get to tell anyone whenever you like, but I’ve known for awhile, and when James told me how down you’ve been this week—”

“What,” Remus says sharply, “did James say exactly.” 

“He only told me that you were sick. I asked if you might like a visitor, and he said he thought you’d rather be alone.” Remus sighs, tipping his head back against the couch. You can see the strain of the upcoming full moon on his face, his features pale and gaunt. 

“He didn’t have to tell me, honey,” you say quietly. “I guessed on my own. I know it’s a big deal, and I’m sure it’s been a massive burden for you." You run your thumb tenderly over the dark circles under his eyes. “I just wish you wouldn’t assume it’d be a burden to me, too. Give me some credit here, Lupin.” 

You feel his cheek twitch as he resists a smile, however small. 

“I don’t care, you know,” you go on, emboldened. “I just want to be there for you. It’s killed me not being there for you every month. I’m sorry, love, I couldn’t take it anymore.”

Remus opens his eyes, and your heart swells at the fondness in his gaze, even if it's mingled with wariness. 

“Would you watch some movies with me, please?” you ask enticingly. “Or we can nap, or just sit here. Whatever you want to do.” 

“You sure you want to stick around?” he asks, and you know he’s talking about more than just tonight. “This time of the month is not pleasant. I’m not pleasant.” 

You let your hand slide from his face down to his shoulder, rubbing delicately. “I don’t need you to be pleasant,” you tell him. “I just need you to let me be here.” 

Remus sighs. “Alright, but we’re watching Halloween. That werewolf movie is shit.”

[forever-rogue]

Bee you’re so amazing and sweet and kind and I hope you know what a beautiful positive impact you’re on this site 💙

I saw you’re accepting Steven Grant requests and my heart is singing cause I miss him so much!!! Might I suggest sweet and shy Steven finding every excuse available to go see you at work but never working up the courage to ask you out until one day he thinks someone else will ask you on a date and he finds his courage to do it first?

AN | I’ve missed him! He’s the best and I’m glad he’s back😌

Pairing | Steven Grant x Fem!Reader

Warnings | None

Word Count | 2.9k

Masterlist | Main, Moon Knight

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

"Your friend is here again," Cameron's voice caused you to look up from the espresso machine. You looked around the cafe in confusion, "well, your favorite customer."

"My favorite customer?" You echoed as Cameron laughed. There were a lot of people who came in on a regular basis so you had no clue as to who they could be referring to, "umm…who?"

"I think his name is Steven?" At the sound of his name your entire face lit up. Alright, maybe you did have a favorite customer, "so I was right!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," you lied, your entire face flushing with warmth, "he's just like anyone else. He just happens to be extra nice."

"He's been walking around outside for like ten minutes now," you peeked past Cameron and looked outside, indeed finding him pacing around. You couldn't help but giggle at him, "wonder if he'll actually come in."

"I'm sure he will," you certainly hoped so anyway, "maybe he's just waiting for a call or something."

"Or maybe his favorite barista is making him nervous and he's trying to get his act together," Cameron suggested as you shrugged innocently, "he's finally going to ask you out!"

“Oh my - stop!” you were laughing nervously and trying to hide your flaming face. You were definitely trying not to imagine him actually asking you on a date. It was a scenario you had imagined and daydreamed of about a thousand times before. But never once had you allowed yourself to believe that it might actually come true. And yet…you shook your head to yourself as you aggressively scrubbed a spot on the counter that you hoped was burnt chocolate and not anything else. You could feel Cameron’s eyes focused on you, “listen. I-I’m not going to flatter myself and think that he might actually like me.”

“And just why not, miss ma’am?” they asked as you shrugged, mumbling something under your breath. They were still waiting for your answer as you turned around and groaned loudly, “I’m telling you, and I would never lie to you, that is something is definitely there between the two of you. Like a spark or something.”

“Cam-” you cast another look outside and found Steven still there. Utter panic and confusion was etched onto his handsome face and you made a small sound of concern. You hoped that nothing was wrong, “he’s like a friend at best.”

“But he could be more if you’d both stop being such weenies,” and yeah, you couldn’t deny that they weren’t necessarily wrong. 

“I’m just…I’m gonna go and make sure he’s okay,” you whipped off your apron and tossed it on the counter before walking past the counter and outside the small patio area. At the sound of the bell twinkling over the door, Steven turned around and looked and was immediately surprised to see you standing there. You smiled softly and held up your hand in a small wave, “hey Steven.”

“H-hi,” he stammered nervously, cheeks immediately darkening as he took you in. The reality was that he’d been trying to work up the courage to come in and see you, and hopefully not make a fool of himself. It seemed like every time he saw, his brain turned to absolute mush and he wasn’t able to form even a single coherent sentence. A part of him that had hoped that by now he’d be able to actually hold a conversation with you but that seemed like an impossible challenge. 

“Is everything alright?” you asked softly and his eyes widened in panic, “I-I don’t mean to pry it was just that we noticed you pacing around. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Yes, of course,” he wasn’t sure if he was more embarrassed by the fact that you’d noticed him pacing, or more touched by the idea that you cared enough to go and check on him. Both…definitely both. You visibly relaxed at the small smile on his face, “I was just…thinking.”

“Oh! Well, we’ve all been there,” the temptation to ask what he was thinking about was almost too great, but you held your tongue. You weren’t sure if he had actually planned on coming inside or if he was going to leave now, but you weren’t ready to part from him, “do you want to come in and I can make you a tea? We’ve just finished baking some fresh biscuits if you’d care to sample.”

“You want me to come in?” he pointed at himself, almost in disbelief and wanting to make sure you were sure. He wouldn’t flatter himself with the idea that you wanted to spend time with him. But what if…

“Yes, silly! Who else?” you put your hand on his arm and gently motioned for him to follow you. Once reality caught up with him, he smiled and eagerly followed into the warm, cozy cafe. He’d learned to love spending time here, especially whenever his schedule coincided with yours, “c’mon!”

“Right behind you,” he promised gently. He was at the point where he was pretty sure that he’d already follow you whenever you went. And that realization was both exciting and terrifying, “right behind you.”

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

Steven, sweet, shy Steven had grown very fond of you. Or in love with you as Marc liked to put. He didn’t necessarily agree or disagree on that account. He often came in when you were working if his schedule coincided with yours. He’d more or less memorized the days and times you worked but in truth it had been accidental. He was keenly aware of a lot of things and you had just become such a regular part of his life and he had become very attuned to you. 

It was a dreary afternoon when Steven got off work, and on a weekend on top of it, he decided he could do with a warm afternoon pick-me-up. And he’d get to see you, which was a definite pick-me-up on its own. There was a definite spring to his step as he made his way over to your little cafe, and he even allowed himself to daydream of asking you on a date. It was something that he’d thought about often, more than he ever dared to admit, but he just couldn’t manage to turn into a reality. 

Marc had even tried to coach him on it, encouraging him to finally ask you instead of just talking about it. Steven had almost even felt ready to do it, but then he just…couldn’t. He’d see your pretty face and that sugar sweet smile and he’d practically melt into a puddle. A puddle that couldn’t do much more than stare longingly at times. 

But today felt different. Today felt like the day he might actually have the courage in his bones to ask you. Maybe it was an overinflated sense of self or something in the air but it all just felt so right. Feeling extra bold, he even allowed himself to stop at one of the small street vendors and purchase a small bouquet of flowers. You’d mentioned it once in passing that you liked daisies more than anything and once he spotted them he knew he was going to grab them for you.

By the time he made his way into the cafe, his eyes were already scanning the place for you. When he spotted you, he grew delighted and was ready to rush over. When he realized the current situation you were in, he stopped in his tracks and inhaled sharply. 

You were standing at the counter, leaning on your elbows as you chatted away with some customer. A very handsome customer from what Steven could discern from only seeing his backside. His heart practically dropped into his stomach at the sweet expression on your face. You were clearly invested into the conversation and that made him take a few steps back and contemplate running out the door. 

As thought you had some kind of sixth sense for him, you looked up and locked eyes with him. His big, brown eyes softened but the expression on his face was nothing short of panic as you waved cheerily at him. He held up the flowers in return as your curiosity piqued - who were the flowers for? You, a part of your heart secretly wished. 

“Hi Steven!” you excused yourself from the other - a friend maybe? - and went over to him, “fancy meeting you here.”

“I could say the same to you,” he managed to tease in return, heart beating wildly inside his chest. You always managed to make him nervous, butterflies exploding in his stomach and heart practically stopping. He felt more like a boy rather than a grown man, but it was a feeling he still managed to love and crave. He looked down at the flowers in his hands and back at your inquisitive eyes before deciding to just do it. It was now or never, “t-these are for you.”

“For me?” and yeah. He instantly knew he’d made the right decision as soon as the simple question escaped your lips. He nodded shyly before handing them over to you, “oh my goodness. They’re daisies! I love them - Steven, I…thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he stammered over his words and found it almost impossible to meet your eyes. He was sure he would have melted into a puddle then and there, “I should umm… I can see-”

“Come on,” you were almost pleading with him. And honestly, who was he to say no to you? You almost skipped behind the counter, grabbing a large pitch and filling it with cool water before putting your new flowers into it. Each step was done with gentle reference before you turned back to him, “what can I make you?”

“Oh, you don’t have to-” he leaned against the counter and tried to play you off, but you weren’t having it. You put your hand on top of his and gave it a gentle squeeze, and his heart almost stopped.

“Don’t even try that on me, Steven,” you insisted and he just made a small sound in response, “your regular or can I try something new and surprise you?”

“Surprise me,” he squeaked as you busied yourself with making him something special. You continually surprised him and it was one of the things he was coming to adore about you. He decided to be bold and push his luck and see if he could get a little information about the man that you had been chatting to. Just you know…out of sheer curiosity. For science…or something like that,  “busy day?”

“Oh you know, just the usual,” you waved your hand around, brow furrowed in concentration and tongue peeking out of your mouth, “average weekend afternoon. Lots of tourists and all that. What about you?”

“There’s a new exhibit on the old kingdom of Egypt at the museum,” he tried to contain his excitement; he loved talking about his job and he knew you liked hearing about it but he didn’t want to bore you either. He was still trying to figure out where the line was, “so lots of crowds, but they all seemed excited, which makes it worthwhile.”

“That’s great,” you smiled at it, handing him the beverage you had made specially for him, “I’d love to see sometime! I’ll have to come by sometime when you’re working, and you can give me the tour. If you’d like…”

“I’d love that,” his entire face lit up as you made up your mind that you would see him as soon as got an afternoon off when he was working, “there’s so much I could show you.”

“I’m sure you could,” you agreed as you went to grab him a fresh pastry, “Steven, I-”

Before you could manage to say anything else, you heard your name being called from the back. You sighed softly and gave Steven an apologetic look before turning towards the kitchen, “sorry, duty calls - I’ll talk to you later, alright?”

“Of course, yes, definitely,” his entire face was falling as he watched you walk away. Realistically he knew that you were at work and had to attend to your job but it still wished you could stay. There was something so magnetic about you that continued to draw him in. You were like a warm, sweet hot chocolate on a rainy afternoon, or a gentle, soft breeze on a perfect spring day, “bye…”

Alright, he was really ging to need to do something and either ask you out finally or just let this all go and move on. But being stuck in this odd limbo of sorts was only to make things worse or continue to break his heart. And, he wagered with himself, if he asked you out and you said no, he’d know where he stood. But…it would still break his heart a little if you only wanted to be friends.

What a dilemma indeed. 

Marc was going to kick his ass later for not asking you out today when he had the perfect opportunity to say so. 

Heck.

-── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

Steven kept his distance for a few days, which you definitely noticed. You were sure that he was busy with work and life and tried not to let it bother you but you definitely missed his presence. It was hard not to notice the absence of the sunshine he brought in all the time. 

Steven, meanwhile, had been trying to work up the nerve to come and see you. He had promised himself (and Marc) that the next time he saw you he was going to ask you out. There were no if ands or buts at this point. Unless, you know, there was an emergency or something…then it would just be rude. Anyway - 

He made his way to the cafe and came inside without allowing himself to have any second thoughts. To his dismay and chagrin, he found the same customer from the other day chatting you up again. Talk about bad timing. He waited until the man left and made a beeline over to you.

“Hey there!” you looked at him with starry eyes and a bright smile, “I’ve missed you!”

“Hi, I - wait. You’ve missed me?” he asked softly as you nodded, “it’s been a busy few days.”

“You don’t have to explain to me,” you insisted, “just know that whenever I get to see you I’m happy.”

“Will you go out with me?” he blurted his question out before he could take it back or have any second thoughts. You blinked at him owlishly a few times, trying to make sure that you’d heard him correctly. When you saw the pretty pink blush creeping into his neck and cheeks you were positive you’d heard him correctly.

“Like on a date?” you asked, you know, just to clarify. 

“Y-yeah,” he answered nervously as you inhaled sharply, a sound of excitement, “I-I am. Unless you’re dating someone already! Like-like that guy you were talking to earlier.”

“James?” you made a sound of amusement before waving off the idea that you had anything romantic with him, “he’s my cousin! He’s been here visiting, that’s all.”

“Oh,” his embarrassment was quickly overshadowed by his excitement and nerves. That meant…, “oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” you teased lightly, “but umm…if the offer still stands, then I’d love to take you up on it.”

“You want to go on a date?” he pointed at himself as you giggled, unable to stop yourself from the incredulous look on his face, “with me?”

“Yes!” you hoped that he could understand just how much you wanted this too. The idea of asking him out had crossed your mind several times and you had almost done it yourself but the right situation just hadn’t come up, “I’d really like that.”

“Right, yeah, me too,” he seemed almost like he was incredibly surprised by your eagerness, “so then it’s a date.”

“It’s a date,” you confirmed, a saccharine silence falling over the two of you. You swallowed the nervous lump in your throat, “how does tonight work? I’m off in about an hour.”

“Tonight?!” you hoped he wasn’t getting cold feet now that the reality of an actual date hit him. You shrugged sheepishly before nodding, “yeah…tonight works. That’d be…great.”

“Good,” you couldn’t stop yourself from leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek, “do you want to wait or meet me back here later?”

“I’ll wait,” he touched the spot on his cheek that had been blessed by your lips, a starry look on his face, “maybe with a tea in the meantime?”

“I can do that,” yeah, you liked this guy a lot. And you were excited to see where it could all go, “that sounds perfect.”

“Yes,” he agreed, “perfect.”

[andronomenom]

Bruisers

18+ MDNI

Content warnings: addiction, relapse, alcohol, so much angst, SA, violence, blood, panic attacks, eventually comfort

Word Count ~ 3k

Author’s Note: I have not written a one shot in forever, let alone finished one. This came out wayyyy darker than initially intended. Not edited, hopefully coherent. Heed the content warnings.

Bucky Barnes x Reader, not even remotely canon so don’t come at me, reader and Bucky have been posted at a military base together but have no established friendship, no use of Y/N, reader is referred to as nickname “Scout”, no assigned gender. Reader relapses, gets violent, Bucky intervenes.

In the rare event that this is worth stealing, I wrote this myself. You do not have permission to copy or repost this without crediting me.

~~~

It had been a terrible day. God awful in fact and there wasn’t a damn thing anyone could do to fix it. You couldn’t yell at the people who pissed you off and they had too much control to make filing a complaint even a remote possibility. Maybe if ‘upper management’ had their shit together you wouldn’t have had five team members, including yourself taking psychic damage on what was supposed to be a research outing, but they weren’t the ones to pick a fight with.

It somehow added to the anger that you had tried so hard to be optimistic. All sunshine and rainbows despite having slept for less than three hours and waking up mid panic attack. You had to be positive for your team, tell them they were all doing their best and were going to do amazing. You don’t know if you really believed it, but you had to at least try.

And yet, at the end of the day, you were the one breaking down. You kept it together on the ride back to the base. Told everyone “it is what it is” and there wasn’t any point worrying about it now, told yourself now wasn’t the time to think about it, process it, accept that it had happened.

So now, with everyone else gone and hopefully coping, you were going to find your own way to cope. You had been good so good leading up to the mission and it still fell apart. So, what was the hurt in a little indulgence?

You made your way to the nearest city, booked a hotel for the night and settled in. It started with a glass of wine, just one to take the edge off. Then another, then the bottle was dry and you wanted to go out. Maybe dance a bit, play some pool, and make temporary friends with strangers.

And you did, you did go out. You found a bar, one that was just clean enough not to be called a dive bar and set your sights on a mindless night of enjoyment.

The night was going smoothly, you were buying drinks for strangers and they were doing the same for you in return. You lost every game of pool you played and that was okay because you expected that. You could almost say you were having fun, as long as you didn’t think about it too hard.

~~~

Bucky’s day had been decent. A rare day off with no plans and no upcoming missions to plan for. He felt good, good enough to socialize. Well maybe not socialize but at least be in the company of others. He took advantage of the sun in the sky and walked the perimeter of the base breathing in the fresh air. He took notice of your team returning to the base hours later than planned, looking a little worse for wear but smiling and joking. He watched you confidently reassuring them, embracing each member and telling them to take care of themselves. He wasn’t exactly eavesdropping, his hearing was just impeccable and he happened to be walking by when you all returned. Maybe he did slow his gait, but he had no need to rush. He could at least, admit to himself, that you had always been intriguing to him.

Bucky was planning on finishing his lap and retreating to his room to rest in the comforting silence, but as he watched you, he saw your smile falter. He didn’t exactly know you well, he didn’t even know your real name. “Scout” was what everyone called you and he didn’t speak to you enough to worry beyond that. He knew you lead the research team that frequently scouted routes for future missions. He overheard your constant words of encouragement to your team and he knew although you were in charge, you treated everyone as equals. In briefings you would talk about your findings while crediting every member. You could be considered “soft” or “sensitive” but you weren’t afraid to call bullshit if you thought your team was being put at risk.

That morning had been one of those times. The commander of your regiment called you and Bucky in for an urgent meeting just after midnight. An island about a thousand kilometres from the base you were stationed at needed to be scouted, and it needed to be done now.

“I have no problem getting my team ready and on a plane, but we at least need to know what we’re looking for.” You said. You knew just as well as Bucky did that there was no point asking why you were both being pulled in for this meeting.

Bucky had to turn his gaze to the floor to hide the smirk that tugged at his lips. It would never cease to entertain him, watching someone speak so bluntly to their commander, especially someone from what was considered a “lesser” unit.

“You know it isn’t your place to ask questions. I tell you to scout, you do so, and bring back your findings.” The commander shot back, a displeased scowl settled on his face.

“I’m not trying to pry information from you. I know what our job is, I just need to know how to prepare. You know our unit doesn’t specialize in combat and you’re sending us on an urgent scouting mission which implies there is something dangerous coming or already there.” You replied firmly, seemingly unphased by his frustration.

“Just be on your toes then. Do your job and do it quickly. Take a look around, get a map of the terrain and make notes on anything interesting that you find.” The commander was obviously getting riled up as he spoke to you and he wasn’t leaving any room for argument. “Is that a problem lieutenant?”

“Not at all, but I’m telling you, I don’t like it. And, if anyone on my team gets hurt then we definitely will have a problem.” You spun around, not waiting for a reply and strode out of the building, not waiting to be dismissed.

Bucky finally met the commander’s gaze, fighting the urge to laugh. You never seemed to have respect for authority, but you got the job done and did so well. So well that there were certain things you could get away with.

“Sergeant Barnes.” The commander nodded at him. “While their unit handles this, you just sit back and relax. If they bring back anything useful, you’ll know where to go and who to ask if any intel needs clarification. It could be nothing, but Scout will be your partner if we need to take a look ourselves. Got it?”

Bucky gave a quick nod, waiting to hear “dismissed” before heading back to his own lodgings.

With that exchange replaying in his mind he felt and twinge of worry while watching you dismiss your team. He knew that look, he’d seen it in the eyes of many commanding officers. That look that flickered across their face when shit hit the fan but they didn’t have the luxury of crashing out.

Before Bucky could decide if it was the time to pull you aside and ask if everything was alright, you were moving. You were on the way to the commander’s office and he knew better than to follow.

He saw you leave the base later that night. You had what looked to be an overnight bag flung over your shoulder. The commander had informed Bucky that he would be briefed by you and the commander the following day. The commander had given him a vague warning not to broach the subject with you until that time.

Bucky may not have known you well, but your return to the base plagued his mind. Something about the way you loaded yourself into your car had him worried. He let the feeling ruminate until he couldn’t help himself anymore and decided to make his way to the nearest town.

It wasn’t hard to find you, but it was hard for Bucky to convince himself that he wasn’t trying to find you. The town was small, kitschy almost with all the boutiques that lined the main drag. At this time, there was only one thing left open which was, of course, the local pub. He parked his motorcycle in the lot behind the bar, hesitating for a second before he dismounted. What was he doing here? Who was he to think of you were here that you would want his company? His concern for you outweighed his pride and he made his way to the building.

~~~

Your night started to feel like it was tinged with something bitter. Maybe it was the liquor or the guilt you were trying to drown with it. Or maybe, it was the loud asshole who had decided to make the bar his hunting grounds for the night. Every move he made was predatory - from the way he leaned in just a little too close when giving the bartender his order to the way his gaze lingered a little too long on every ass that caught his attention.

No, other factors may have been at play, but right now, this asshole was definitely the one ruining your buzz. And when he had the courage to stand behind you, arms reaching around to “help” you angle the pool stick, and you could feel his dick pressing against your ass, you finally had someone you could get mad at. Someone you could fight back against with few consequences. You were in your civilian garb, you had given anyone who asked some bullshit name to call you by, and no one who mattered was here to tell you no. To top it all off, you were too drunk to give a shit.

Bucky entered just as you had decided to let yourself go. He saw the man leaning over you, the way your entire body had tensed and then what almost looked like a smile come to your lips. Bucky didn’t like that look, he knew it only meant trouble.

You slowly stood upright, taking in a deep breath as the man continued to lean into you, any precedent of helping you with your game had long been forgotten. He had left you just enough room to turn around and you did so, a sweet smile on your face. And then, you shoved him. You took the pool cue and held the tip against his chest, eyebrow cocked in bitter amusement.

“I’m sorry, what were you trying there?” You asked, voice somehow soft despite the rage burning inside your chest.

“You bitch!” He spat and that was all it took to make you lose all control.

You were barely aware of what you were doing, something primal controlling your body as you kneed him in the groin. When he bent over in pain, you met his chin with an uppercut. All you could hear was your own heartbeat thudding in your ears, your only goal to make this man pay for what he was trying to do to you, what he had probably already done to countless others who weren’t able to defend themselves.

You were straddling his chest now, you couldn’t remember how you got to the floor. Your fists were beating against his face and you couldn’t tell if the blood was from your own knuckles, his bruised face or the shards of glass from a fallen beer glass that you were effectively kneeling in. And then, there were hands. Big hands on your shoulders pulling you up and away from the man lying on the floor. As you struggled to move forward, back towards the man who dared to touch you, arms came around you. Their grasp was too strong to escape and as you spotted the glint of metal between a gloved hand and leather jacket you knew whose hands these were. Suddenly, you were too aware of where you were and what you were doing. You stopped fighting back, tried to find anywhere to look other than the faces of the bar patrons, most importantly other than the man you had let loose on.

You didn’t know what Bucky said to the workers and patrons, why police cruisers weren’t racing to the bar. You were vaguely aware that you were on the back of Bucky’s bike and headed back to the base. Somehow, the guards didn’t question the state you were returning in and you were back “home.”

“Scout. Scout, I need you to look at me.”

You weren’t breathing right, you could feel your body shaking, and you couldn’t get your eyes to focus.

“Hey, if you can’t look at me I need you to at least tell me where you are.”

You gasped, the stupor of rage and alcohol beginning to lift. That voice, that was Bucky’s voice. And you were… somewhere on base? His room?

“I’m here.” You tried to laugh but it came out shaky as you slowly began to remember what had unfolded that night.

“Do you know where ‘here’ is?” Bucky asked. His voice was steady and with each passing moment you were becoming more and more aware of where you were. Aware of the fact Bucky was crouched down beside you with a look that you could only describe as concern etched on his face.

“I’m… I’m sitting on the ground. I… I think this is your room?” You could barely get the words out as your breath came in ragged gasps.

“Okay, good. Do you remember how you got here?”

“I… I uh…” Your breathing was fast, so fast, and it didn’t feel like you could get any air in your lungs.

“Okay, okay, don’t worry about that right now. I need to get you cleaned up. Can I do that for you?”

“Um… yeah?” You didn’t know what else to say, how to tell him you didn’t quite grasp why you needed to be cleaned up.

It didn’t seem to matter whether or not you understood right now. Bucky was gone, and then he was back, cleaning and bandaging your bloody knuckles, pulling shards of broken glass from your arms and dousing the cuts with antiseptic.

By the time he was done, you were all too conscious. Your buzz had faded and you could feel the guilt stirring in your chest. You finally started to take in your surroundings. This may have been Bucky’s room, but it certainly wasn’t on the base.

“Uh… Bucky?” You whispered, reaching out for his hand as he resumed his position crouching beside you on the floor. “I know I’m in this room… cottage maybe? But it isn’t familiar. Why did you bring me here? Why did you come looking for me in the first place? Why are you still here?”

Bucky let out a deep sigh, like he’d been waiting for you to connect with reality.

“We’re in a safehouse… well sorta. It’s a cottage I found years ago and cleaned up. It’s where I come to get away when everything gets to be too much.” He explained, eyes surveying your face before he continued. “I saw something in you when you got back from your scouting assignment. It scared me.”

Before you could ask if you scared him, he kept talking.

“For a minute there, you looked like you were about to fall apart. Then you put a smile on your face and went about your evening. When you left, well, I thought you were either looking for trouble or it had already found you. Also, it’s my cottage, that’s why I’m here. And I want you here so you can work through whatever the hell happened today.”

“Fuck…” You were hyperventilating now, every shitty thing that had happened swirling around your head and it was so overwhelming.

“Hey, Scout, look at me.”

You finally met his eyes, and then it came. The thing you had been trying to avoid by drowning it in booze or getting angry at things you could put a name to. You started sobbing and when you reached out for his other hand, he instead put his arms around you. You accepted his embrace and cried into his shoulder until you didn’t have anymore tears left.

You pulled your face away from his shoulder, feeling a little emptier now, but not in a bad way. Empty like you had let out everything you could and now all you felt was tired.

“How are you feeling now?” He asked, with a baffling amount of warmth and kindness.

“Better, I think?”

“Better is enough for now. I brought you here so you can stay for awhile if you’d like, clear your mind, get away from everything. You don’t have to worry about anything on the base, I’ve made a couple calls and as far as the commander knows, you’ve had a family emergency. What would you like to do?” Bucky hasn’t moved an inch, waiting for you to decide.

“I think I want to stay… but…” You took a deep breath and your next words came out more like a plea. “Can you stay with me?”

“If that’s what you want, I will.”

“Thank you.”

“Anytime, doll.”

He finally pulled away from you, standing to rummage through a dresser door and returning with some comfortable clothes and a towel.

“If you want, you can have a shower and get changed. There’s hot water and everything.” He laughed.

“Yes, thank you.”

You didn’t know how long you were in the shower but you did know that you were safe the whole time. When you returned to the main room of the cottage, the bed was made up for you and Bucky sat in an old armchair, staring into the flames of the fireplace.

You crawled into bed, wrapping yourself in the sheets and taking in the smell of cedar that seemed to permeate everything in the cottage now that you were attached to reality again.

“Sleep doll, I’ll be right here if you need me.”

“Thank you Bucky, good night.”

With that, you drifted off into a dreamless sleep, comforted knowing Bucky was watching over you.

~~~

If you got this far OMG thanks for reading. I did not read this over so hopefully it is semi decent? Something sparked the creative urge in me and maybeee I’ll make this a series? Who knows.

[passiveechobox]

Hiiiii I recently met your blog and I am amazed at your fic about Gyutaro, so I wondered if you could do a second part.

if you don't want it, you could do a fic where reader and Gyutaro are a couple because of their self-esteem problems feel very jealous and insecure, that it is anguish but in the end things are solved and everything is super nice

Obvious if you don't want o you're not confortable with this is completely fine that you ignore this ♡

Btw your fics are all amazing! I love it! ♡

OK so Cheer Up, Inkblot! was always supposed to be a one shot so I really struggled with this but hopefully its OK! It is a LOT shorter though

It had been a few weeks since you got together and being in a relationship with Gyutaro had its ups and downs. He wasn’t exactly the smoothest or most expressive person, but in his own way, he was incredibly thoughtful. He thought of you constantly and not in some performative way, but in the quiet, meaningful gestures that spoke volumes. He’d bring you little gifts when he could, things he found that reminded him of you: a hair clip shaped like a crescent moon, a sweet bun you once mentioned liking, a folded-up napkin doodled with a little scribble of the two of you holding hands. He never made a big deal of it, just handed them over gruffly, muttering something barely coherent, ears tinged pink.

In the mornings, when he cooked, he always made enough food for three: you, him, and Ume. He never said it outright, but you could tell he was trying to make you part of their little home, folding you into the life he shared with his sister.

Ume, of course, loved it. She teased you both relentlessly in that typical younger sibling way, all smirks and exaggerated fake-gagging noises, but there was a glint in her eye every time she caught you two sneaking glances or brushing hands. She gave Gyutaro grief, but truthfully? She was just happy he had someone.

But then, there was the other side of Gyutaro, the part of him that made things... harder. He was jealous.

Not just “cute jealous”, not the kind where he pulls you close when someone flirts, or grumbles a bit when you compliment a celebrity. No, it was the kind that sparked the moment another guy so much as looked at you, the kind that made his shoulders stiffen, his eyes narrow, his jaw clench, a silent, brooding intensity that told you loud and clear: he didn’t like it.

And at first? You did think it was kind of cute. The way he’d get all pouty and possessive. The way he’d glare at anyone who seemed too interested, only to soften again when you kissed his cheek and told him not to worry. But over time, it stopped feeling cute, it started to feel heavy. Because it wasn’t just the glares. If you didn’t immediately pull away from whoever had his jealousy flaring, if you didn’t play along with whatever silent expectation he had, he’d sulk. Not dramatically, he’d just… disappear. Slip away without a word and leave you wondering what you’d done wrong. You’d find him later, lurking somewhere with a stormy look on his face, arms crossed, eyes darting anywhere but at you.

And sometimes, you couldn’t just escape. You couldn’t always abandon conversations in the middle or pretend to be rude just because a guy happened to exist nearby. But Gyutaro didn’t seem to see it that way. Every time, it was like he expected you to prove something, that you weren’t interested, that you would shut it down, even when there was nothing happening in the first place. The pressure of it started to wear on you. It wasn’t just insecurity anymore; it was distrust. Like deep down, he thought the only thing keeping you loyal was him being around. Like if he wasn’t right there, you might just fall into someone else’s arms and that wasn’t going to fly.

Because you weren’t going to spend the whole relationship proving your innocence to someone who should already know your heart. You loved him. You showed it every day. But love couldn’t survive if it was always being questioned.

So the next time he slunk off, again, after yet another harmless encounter, you didn’t just brush it off. You followed him and this time, you were ready to talk about it.

You found him behind the bike sheds, pacing this time, low muttering under his breath like he was chewing on the memory of what happened, jaw clenched so tight it looked painful. His back was to you, shoulders hunched, fists tight at his sides. He’d been simmering out here alone, stewing in that stormy head of his.

“Gyutaro,” you called softly.

He didn’t turn around. Didn’t say anything. But you saw the way his shoulders twitched, he heard you and was listening. Just refusing to acknowledge it, like if he didn’t speak, he wouldn’t have to deal with what came next. You walked closer, not pushing too fast, not wanting to set him off, because with Gyutaro anger came before honesty. He didn’t fold; he flared. And it took effort not to take that personally. When you stopped a few feet away, you spoke. “We need to talk.”

He let out a low, mirthless laugh, still not facing you. “What, now I’m in trouble for walking off?”

“No,” you said calmly. “But I’m not going to pretend it doesn’t bother me.” That got him to turn, not fast, not dramatic, just enough that you could see his expression, jaw tight, eyes sharp. Defensive already.

“You want me to smile while some guy’s starin’ at you like he’s undressing you with his eyes?” His voice was rough, bitter. “Should I shake his hand too? Offer him a drink?”

You crossed your arms, keeping your tone level. “I want you to trust me.”

He scoffed. “Trust you? It’s them I don’t trust.” You stepped closer, not backing down. “I know how guys can be. I’m not stupid. But I’m with you, Gyutaro. I keep choosing you. You think I don’t notice when you disappear? When you sulk off like you’re being punished? That’s not okay. It makes me feel like you don’t trust me.”

His expression twitched, flickering from anger to something else, not softer, just... less certain. He rubbed at the back of his neck like the conversation was crawling under his skin.

“It ain’t like that,” he muttered. “It’s not about trust.”

“Then what is it?”

His eyes darted away, jaw working. “I get pissed off, alright? I see some guy looking at you like you’re easy, like you’re his to take and I wanna break his nose. And then I think, maybe he’s right. Maybe you’ll realize you could have better.”

“That’s not your call to make,” you snapped, before you could stop yourself. “You don’t get to decide what I want. I’m not some prize someone’s gonna snatch up when you’re not looking. I’m a person and I’m with you because I want to be.” He looked at you finally, not avoiding, not dodging, and there was fire in his eyes now, not shame. His breathing was heavier, but the rage had started to crack, just enough to see the real fear underneath.

“You don’t get it,” he said low. “People don’t look at me and see someone worth anything. They see trash. Dirt. A freak. So yeah, maybe I lose it sometimes. Maybe I can’t stand the idea of someone else even trying to take you from me. But don’t act like it’s ‘cause I think you’re the problem.”

You took a deep breath, stepping right into his space now. “Then stop treating me like a flight risk. If you’re scared, fine. Say it, but don’t act like I’m doing something wrong for breathing near another guy. That’s not fair, Gyutaro.”

His lips pressed together hard, but he didn’t push back. Didn’t lash out. He stood there, tense, barely keeping his anger in check, but you could tell he was listening. That somewhere under all that fury, he heard you.

“…I’ll try,” he said, voice low, grudging.

It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t poetic. But from him, it was a promise.

You nodded, letting out the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “That’s all I’m asking.”

You leaned into him, and for a second he hesitated, always slow to take comfort, but then his hands settled on your back, firm, grounding, protective.

After that, things didn’t magically fix themselves, but they shifted. When guys got too close, he still bristled. Still stared them down like he was one second from snapping. But now he stayed. He didn’t run. He’d take slow breaths, jaw clenched, fists tight, but he stayed. And that meant something. He was trying, you could see it.

You knew he didn’t have an easy time showing vulnerability. The world had taught him that softness was weakness, and weakness got punished. So he guarded himself with sharp teeth and snarled words, but you knew better. You’d seen who he was underneath all that. And you weren’t trying to fix him. You weren’t naïve. You knew one relationship couldn’t undo a lifetime of being treated like less. But you could be someone who showed up. Who told him, again and again, that he was worth something. That you weren’t looking for an upgrade. That you didn’t want better, because to you, he was better.

And it went both ways. You weren’t above jealousy either, not when girls who used to ignore him suddenly found their smiles around him. But you practiced the same mindfulness you asked of him. You didn’t lash out. And Gyutaro? He noticed. He always glanced at you, even mid-conversation, like he was silently asking are you good? It was messy, raw, imperfect.

And it was all yours.

[blorbosinmyheadcentral]

your art makes me explode in a positive way like

im chewing and swallowing it in an aggressive way like

it's just SO good im melting ilove your shading and KEHEKEBEKJDJF

anwayshi hello do you happen to have any headcanons for showtime rolls on the floor and dies

Thank you so much, really appreciate it!

Oh God I don't know if this will read as coherent because my thoughts about Showtime are all over the place. But I'll try to format this the best I can

✨Showtime HCs! ✨

Their relationship starts when they start spending time together.

(The reason why they do so could vary. In Supervised Machine Learning's case, Pomni becomes something of a "tutor" to Caine; They discover that they work well together, and the other's company can be quite pleasant!).

So Pomni and Caine build a weird, but comforting friendship, and all is well.

Then the feelings appear.

Caine is the first to realize he fell in love.

It sounds illogical but hear me out… it'd be really funny--

Ok no seriously I think Caine can actually feel. Keyword "can". He's very much still a machine and it shows in the pilot. But like his inspiration (AM), Caine is also a rogue AI. Whatever his programming originally intended him to do, he probably doesn't follow it as closely now as back when he was created (which is a whole other post).

Caine knows what love is and the extend it can go, since the Moon is so open about her feelings. He just doesn't like the Moon back specifically haha (sorry Moon) :}

All this to say, I do believe this is within the realm of possibility for him. (Not that it's ever gonna happen towards anyone in the show. These are just wishful shippy thoughts).

He might not recognize it as love at first, because it manifests in such a different way from his one reference point.

His friendship with Pomni had gone through phases.

When they first met, he continuously touched her with no concern for how she felt.

Learning from and about Pomni herself led him to come to respect her boundaries (and becoming mindful of everyone else's).

Then they're close friends, and gradually, Pomni does not mind his regular wacky, touchy-feely self. So Caine acts as he had always done before.

Caine expresses his love for Pomni with physical gestures and his undivided attention.

When they teleport to travel to other places, he holds her close so she doesn't get too dizzy; he pats her head to reassure her; he touches her arm to get her attention; he grabs her hands when he's excited about her ideas; he holds eye contact for prolonged periods of time; and he touches, and touches, and touches, and touches.

It's selfish, and so he keeps it buried in his deepest 0's and 1's. But he'd like to keep hanging out with Pomni, having her in his sight, and feel the texture of her gloved hands until the end of time.

Despite all this, to him, virtually nothing changed.

What? He's spending time with Pomni as he'd always been doing, and behaving as he'd always behaved!

It's Bubble of all people that has to point out that, "Hey boss. I think you WANT her!"

Absurd. Nonsense. Preposterous! It is merely a relationship of mutual support and affection between a ringmaster and his trusted, former-human companion. Nothing more.

(Declaring his love to her unprompted didn't ever cross his mind, so there's no way it could be that. Is there?)

Caine finds out that yes, there is.

Pomni had always been a nervous wreck, but her mind state becomes more manageable over time. She eventually adjusts to the circus life like everyone else did.

"Accepting" her fate is a different story. The will to escape, to remember, never really leaves. She's just more careful about it.

So when she starts working with Caine - to improve life so people don't go abstracting anymore, and hopefully find a definitive exit - she's not expecting to end up liking her time with him.

Not that she'd absolutely hate it, either. He's… "okay"… Just-- outlandish, loud, he keeps invading her personal space, he keeps touching her, and it makes her die a little every time.

If he's up to listening, though… it can't be that bad, right?

Turns out that no, it wasn't that bad.

Yes, he is outlandish, loud, he keeps invading her personal space and touching her. But she explains what she means to him, clearly and patiently, and he makes an effort to do better. An actual effort.

Sometimes he'd misinterpret what she meant - the ambiguity of human language - and the new games would go horribly. But little by little, his efforts make life overall better. Something reminiscent of actual, real life, the one they've all forcibly left behind.

And he tries, and he tries, and Pomni finds herself enjoying the process as much as the good results.

Pomni likes Caine's eagerness to learn. His enthusiastic attitude borders on silly, and the absurdity makes her laugh on occasion. When faced with the prospect of a "real" exit, she loves his upbeat optimism.

When she's not hanging out with Ragatha, Jax, Gangle, Zooble and Kinger, she begins to enjoy spending quality time with Caine.

Each one of their hang outs is a new surprise. They make a picnic in the tallest mountain exactly in between day and night. They learn to dance - while floating in the air. "Since you asked, here's a DIGITAL camera! Let's take pictures of the Void for one tenth of a second at a time!"

Sometimes he just comes by Pomni's room, and they end up losing track of time. Just chatting about how things have been, what they could be, and what to do next. Ideas and ideas and ideas.

Before Pomni knows it, she's comfortable enough that recalling his old habits makes her not dread them anymore. So when Caine stands close and lightly touches her arm due to oversight, she makes sure he knows it's all right.

And they keep spending time together, and he touches, and touches, and touches her. Pomni, in turn, feels lighter, and lighter, and lighter. Peaceful, at ease. Dare she say, happy, even.

Life is not perfect. As it stands though, it's good enough. No one has abstracted. No one is at risk of abstracting so far.

Progress is slow, but the research for an exit continues, and she is hopeful. The thought of actually leaving grows closer to reality. But a part of her feels heavy.

When it occurs to Pomni that leaving the Amazing Digital Circus means leaving Caine behind, she is alarmed by how much she'll miss him.

It'll hurt. Badly. So much the thought pains her even now.

The moment Pomni realizes this, she comes to the unexpected conclusion that she may like Caine a little more than she thought she would.

This later leads to an interesting discussion with Ragatha.

By the time Pomni comes to that conclusion, Caine is already down bad.

Neither has any idea that the other is in love with them.

Cue dumbasses trying to deal with their feelings while the potential conflict the escape brings looms over their heads.

Thanks for coming to my TED talk!

[minv97]

♡

Warning nsfw content Minors dni.

Contains unprotected sex, mentions of cum and overstimulation and everything else nasty.

Friends with benefits, fem reader and Felix bet that reader can't sleep with anyone else because according to him it's "my pussy".

+

Hii! So I found out I hate doing requests and I've been gone for a good week or 2 but I'm back! I'll be posting more often hopefully but I hope u guys enjoy this! Been an idea in my head for awhile now and I'm obsessed with Lee Felix these days but who isn't? TAKE CARE

You're not surprised to see Felix standing in your living room when you get home, he's got an annoying smirk on his pretty pink lips upon seeing your arrival and he's giving you a look that just screams I fucking told you so.

"I'm not in the mood Felix." You say before he can even start and he puts his hands up in a surrendering gesture.

"Wasn't gonna say anything, sweetheart." He smiles at you innocently but you know Felix well enough to know he's just waiting to pour alcohol in your cut.

"I'm serious," you throw your purse down on the floor more aggressively than you had meant to. "I'll fucking kill you if you say it."

Felix can barely hold back a laugh, eyes squinting as he walks to you with open arms.

"Fine, I won't say I told you so," he says as he pulls you into his chest. "Want to tell me what happened?"

You groan, squeezing your eyes shut tight before hiding your face in his chest as the memories came flooding back to the surface of your brain. All you wanted to do was go on about your day and try to pretend it never happened.

"He couldn't get me to cum-" you groan again, feeling heat rushing to your face.

"Is that all?" You can feel Felix's chest begin to shake as he tries to contain his laughter only for your sake.

"-I had to fake an orgasm and he kinda caught on which resulted in me leaving and it was so awkward. I thought I was going to die."

"Wanna know why you couldn't cum?" Felix asks tauntingly, forcing your chin up to look him in his eyes and he places a peck on the tip of your nose. "It's 'cause he's not me."

You can't stop yourself from rolling your eyes at the cocky motherfucker, hating the fact you knew deep down inside he was right, you were hooked to Felix.

"Lucky for you though, I'm here. What would you do without me?" He presses his lips against your cheek in a soft sweet peck.

"I'd have to start buying my brownies from the store." You wrap your arms around his neck and lean on your tippy toes to connect your lips with his in a kiss for a moment

"You know damn well I'm good for other things too but I see you've forgotten, must need a reminder hm love?"

And that's exactly how you ended up under Felix for the umpteenth time, Felix thinks it's where you should've been all along, under him with him between your legs and his cock stuffing your needy pussy to the brim. He loves this position just so he can see your face as he slides out of you only to slide right back in your velvety walls with a sqwelsh, loves seeing your eyes roll to the back of your head as your brain turns to mush all because of his cock.

"Look at that-" he has to hold the back of your neck up to get you to watch when he slides out of your pussy again, only to push right back in your pulsating count, watching the way your walls wrap around him so deliciously. "That's all mine baby, my pussy. Say it."

"Ahh fuck Felix..." You whine out, Felix knows your head is practically mush right now and it makes him chuckle but he's determined, slapping your pussy hard enough to see if that'll make you come back to your senses just enough.

"Say it, tell me who's pussy this is." He demands, rutting in to you at such a fast pace it's hard for you to form a coherent sentence.

"Yours." You breathe out, hands searching for something to grab onto and you opt for your bedsheets, fisting the fabric in your hands for deer life. "Yours, yours, yours. Ts'your pussy-"

"There you go, good girl." He watches the way your face scrunches up in pleasure as you cream all over his cock, lips parting and he can't help but to kiss your parted lips as he fucks you through your high till your thighs are shaking from the overstimulation.

"Too much- pleasee-" You beg, eyes beginning to gloss over with tears from how overstimulated your pussy feels but Felix isn't done yet.

"Give me one more baby, please? I know you can fucking take it." Felix continues thrusting in your pussy at his same fast pace, not bothering to wipe your mascara and tear covered face nor the drool spilling from the corner of your lips, sadistically basking at the sight of your fucked out state.

"fuck fuck fuck." You mumble repeatedly as you begin to feel that familiar knot forming again, Felix's thrusts get sloppier and he reaches his hand down to begin playing with your clit, rubbing hard and fast circles as he rests his forehead against yours.

"Take that fucking dick, that's it, baby fuck." Felix can't help but ramble on as he feels himself getting closer and closer to his release, becoming drunk off your pussy and cumming instantly with you when he feels your pussy clenching around him like crazy as you reach your own orgasm, whole body shaking in pleasure as he fucks his white hot sticky fluids into you for good measure. "So next time you try and give my pussy away you'll remember this is mine." He pecks your lips a few times, patting your fucked out pussy a few times in the process and making you flinch with each pat.

<33

Can find all of my work under #minv97

[butchreg]

puppy ! regressor ( teen ) shauna shipman headcanons !!

requested by anon winky face . methinks there are a few sillies who would like some puppy ! shauna thoughts so i am here to provide ! featuring jackieshauna and lottieshauna / butcherqueen if u squint tehee ^_^ hopefully coherent but not proofread && it's nearly 6 am && i've yet to sleep so apologies if there's any errors .. yellowjackets masterlist here , upcoming list here

puppy shauna following around her friends . she's nat's little guard dog when he's out in the woods , and even will sit by mari when she's cooking hoping for some scraps . puppy shauna is very much a companion she gets really upset if left by herself , she'll start whining and howling if she's alone for more than five minutes .

shauna trying to keep her regression a secret from the team , thinking she's sooo slick when really everyone can tell they just don't want to embarrass her by saying anything outright . nat offering her praise more readily , "nice one shipman ." tai letting shauna lay her head in her lap , petting her hair like she might a real dog.

shauna's a bit of a feisty pup . around those who she knows know about her regression she'll nip and bite playfully . barking up a storm when she's fussy or wants attention or to be included . growling when she doesn't get her way or if someone seems to pose a threat to her , whining like crazy if she hasn't gotten enough pets . a very vocal puppy .

lottie knitting shauna paw gloves when she catches onto her regression which surprises and embarrasses shauna . leaving the gloves right where she left them after being gifted them , tail between her legs hulking and sulking in the corner . oh she's reaal dramatic . now everyone's gonna know and it's not fair and why would lottie waste time on making something for her when she's been not very nice to lottie and there was the whole thing of her practically beating lottie to death... why does she have to be nice when shauna's mean it's dumb and confusing ... but they're really nice gloves .. jackie makes a comment about how much she loves them and then "shockingly" they end up with shauna's stuff later that night .

she can get super energetic if she's deep in puppyspace . shauna getting all rowdy , jumpy and playful , chasing anything that moves and fetching things without being asked or even being needed . silly puppy shauna sticking her nose where it doesn't belong , putting things she knows she shouldn't into her mouth , chewing everything in sight up . nat whos outside a lot will sometimes be tasked with watching over her while she runs around everywhere outside . just a little pup with the zoomies !!

the team teasing shauna to make her tail wag , she tries to act all angry and broody but her tail is wagging , giving her away .

when she's puppy regressed shauna's even more protective than usual over jackie especially . growling when someone gets close to her , barking and biting if anyone says anything mean about her . making sure to walk ahead of jackie to protect her from anything that could be ahead .

she's super obedient to jackie , nat , and tai only . if anyone else gives her a command she'll do the exact opposite . mari or lottie will get too cocky , "that's right . stay put , pup ." and all of a sudden no matter how tired she is shauna's moving about , wandering all over the cabin . she's such a stubborn girl .

jackie writes a bunch of rules for her . she's supposed to listen even if it's someone else enforcing it if it's one of jackie's rules but shauna's not always the best listener . "what's that ... oh no ... shauna , spit that out . shaunaaa.." shauna will just giggle , chewing even more aggressively on whatever she's got in her mouth this time . if jackie comes and finds her though it's a whole different story .

"hey ! shipman , what's that ." shauna whimpers , turning her head away . she doesn't want jackie to see her being naughty . "shauna...." jackie will say in a warning tone . "show mama right now ." shauna will spit it out , hiding her face and whining . jackie will lecture her , and shauna will flush red , she's so embarrassed . she apologizes to jackie in a voice hardly above a whisper , sounding very small . sometimes she'll cry , "m'sowry mama , m'bad ." jackie shakes her head , shushing her little pup . "shhh , you're not bad , shaunie . just a silly little thing , hmm . mama's silly puppy ."

[nexility-sims]

𝐍𝐎. 𝟏𝟑   ❛ 𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭 ❜   |   RENZO'S HOUSE, NAKAWE, OCTOBER 1991

❧  𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲  /  𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠  /  𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬  /  𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭.

Leonor knew she was imposing. Although with permission, she let herself into the most private circle of Renzo’s life, one from which he had barred her for months. There hadn’t been any negotiating it, and she couldn’t say whether that made it better or worse. Rather, she hadn’t tried to go where he didn’t seem to want her. She also hadn’t tried to discover whether it was a matter of wanting at all. He did want her. He had, with clarity and audacity, from the day they met. She’d seen how he treated people that he didn’t want but had yet to experience that kind of terrible disregard from him.

❧ i don't recall when these ideas came to me and melded together but i'm glad they did also hopefully goes without saying but there's time weirdness that'll be addressed subsequently ! also 2x maybe i’m wrong but there aren’t enough bj fantasies given how much some enjoy giving them, idk idk

𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞 & 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭 ↓

Leonor knew she was imposing. Although with permission, she let herself into the most private circle of Renzo’s life, one from which he had barred her for months. There hadn’t been any negotiating it, and she couldn’t say whether that made it better or worse. Rather, she hadn’t tried to go where he didn’t seem to want her. She also hadn’t tried to discover whether it was a matter of wanting at all. He did want her. He had, with clarity and audacity, from the day they met. She’d seen how he treated people that he didn’t want but had yet to experience that kind of terrible disregard from him.

Still, for all they discussed, the red lines and boundaries of their own relationship went without remark—either unspeakable or so self-evident as to require no demarcation. Leonor believed most of the time that it was the latter. She knew that her life had steadily cohered around his. The rhythm of it attracted her, able to fill the grave-silent vacuum where her own had once been. Although it had, important distinctions remained. Now, waking up in his bed, surrounding by what looked to be all of his worldly possessions, knowing he allowed her to be there because she needed him that much, because he cared about her that much, she suspected at least one distinction had blurred irrevocably. 

Just as quick as the realization took hold, so too did the understanding that it didn’t bother her. She noted she was alone in the room. That meant something. She took in the sight of everything bathed in daylight, from the careless stacks of books to the rumpled clothes strewn on the floor to the overflowing boxes shoved into the small room’s corners. It had seemed peculiar to her that he lived in the guesthouse instead of the perfectly suitable villa to which it belonged. Looking around, she began to appreciate why he would make such a choice. For anyone else, it would have been silly or, worse, performative. Leonor, rolling over into the pillows that smelled like him, felt she now unlocked some deeper knowledge of everything he had ever told her about himself—like she could feel what he felt when he claimed to be so uncomfortable and discontent in places other people might kill to experience. In that, yet another distinction dissolved. 

Renzo hadn’t answered the phone when Leonor called, and his flippant prerecorded message sounded cruel as it played. Her hope had been reassurance—comfort, really—in the clarity he tended to offer. Instead, the sound of his voice disheartened her further. Her mind raced all night without guidance to quiet it. It chased away sleep, banging together gut-wrenching thoughts with insistence and urgency. The idea of her mother’s belongings cast out into the world, ripped away before she could claim them for her own sentimental needs, felt just as discordant as the haphazard crashing of cymbals. She had grasped onto half-formed notions of how to retrieve these mysterious belongings, but a plan refused to cohere. Even after crying as she hadn’t in weeks, the burden of emotional exhaustion didn’t slow down the pace of her thoughts.  

She slept much better in Renzo’s bed, even if it was the first time she’d ever been in it. 

He was a private person and, anyway, she had eagerly brought him into her house. His opinion mattered to her as soon as he set foot inside; he liked the artwork in her dining room so much that she'd immediately gifted him one of the large pieces, frame and all. It perplexed him, as if he wasn't sure what he would do with it. 'You don't collect it?' she asked him. He shrugged. 'That's what everyone asks. I should smarten up, huh?' Leonor had imagined his home full of art—obscure, iconoclastic finds, too, not the low-hanging fruit. That exchange and several others kept her curious about what his home looked like.

Luckily, she was the nosy kind of curious. She asked around without shame on a couple of occasions, wondering aloud where he lived and what his house was like. She did know his address. He’d given it to her driver, at the end of long nights or when he left her house in the afternoon. All it told her was that he lived in a quiet, star-studded neighborhood that was the new money equivalent of her own. That wasn’t surprising, even if she imagined him in a trendy downtown apartment rather than one of those high-walled coastal villas. His friends offered less-than-colorful descriptions of what was inside. They seemed confused by the question, even. ‘It’s just a house.’ He wasn’t much for decorating. They went over to drink and smoke and and gamble and watch films. She could imagine it well enough, a gaggle of off-duty actors squished together on a big couch. What kind of couch, though? That was the root of it—she could imagine Renzo’s eyes lighting up at the sight of an old, ugly sofa in a dusty secondhand store, but she couldn’t quite picture him bringing it home with any purpose or intent. In the same way she inherited a house designed for someone else, she supposed he simply occupied someone else’s dream home. 

As it turned out, that was the case. Imposing fences, dense foliage, and locked gates hid all the houses on the street from view. Leonor had initially noted the averageness of the house itself, but she soon found herself more intrigued by the discovery that he resided in the guesthouse instead. She'd cast a glance back at the main house looming large and empty, then laughed as she turned back to the little doll’s home Renzo preferred. Inside, Leonor flipped on every light she encountered as she wandered around. She had felt a strange, sheepish delight that he wasn’t present to observe the way her eyes lingered on every detail. It was greedy, but she wanted to see everything that was his. 

The guesthouse possessed a neutral, modern style that didn’t represent Renzo very well, but he had made it his own. His old shoes piled up in the entryway. The living room, small to her but an open cavern in reality, bore the colorful imprint of his time spent there. VHS tapes clustered around the television set. Evidence of card games past littered the coffee table, along with books, a full ashtray, abandoned bottles of lukewarm beer. Leonor smiled at the little potted cactus. In the music nook, a record collection sat with a couple of guitars. Leonor envisioned him stretched out on the solitary lounge chair, reading the book tossed at its foot, making use of the hard candy or rolling papers on the side table in between chapters. She took one of the candies as she passed by, leaving behind her wrapper with those already discarded. 

The staircase led directly to the single bedroom. Leonor had been able to see in the moonlight, and she soon felt a tug of unease.  Even more than downstairs, Renzo’s bedroom looked like the sanctuary she had suspected his home must be. It was cluttered and overflowed with belongings, some collecting dust and others arranged as if he would return to them any minute. His very life was here. It fit in a single room. Some of it spoke for itself, and others were inscrutable symbols of stories she had yet to hear. What was it like, she wondered, to both live with such sentimentality and to be so without roots? For a moment, she had wanted to turn around and leave, as if she hadn’t earned the right to such an intimate look at him. Instead, she pulled the door shut and crawled into the unmade bed. 

Walking into the house, the nostalgic scent of stale smoke sunk into fabric greeted her. A fleeting recollection of climbing into her mother's personal car sprung to mind in response. The same smell clung to the sheets and pillows, melded with the sweet, earthen scents Renzo wore. She could all but hear her grandmother’s voice ranting about the acerbic stench she loathed, for reasons both hygienic and spiteful, but Leonor found the familiarity comforting. It smelled like her mother’s embrace the morning after a big fight, when she came inside from the balcony with a tired, apologetic smile on her face and last night’s smoke still in her hair. An ocean breeze blew inside from the open doors, and it ruffled Leonor’s hair as she turned to face the view. The water was barely visible through the foliage, but its shimmering in the distance was unmistakable. She listened to the wind, and the quiet city whisperings it carried, and soon felt at home.

As Leonor descended the spiral staircase the next morning, the sound of voices alerted her yet again to the fact that she was imposing. Renzo’s plans for the weekend hadn’t included her. She was supposed to be away and, in any case, he had mentioned meeting a friend. It didn’t occur to her as she’d pulled on her underwear and selected a shirt from the floor to wear—and only that, crucially—that he could be meeting someone at home, right now, while she slept her way from morning to early afternoon. Possibilities flashed through her mind as her steps down the staircase slowed. It could be someone important, like his agent, who sounded dour even on the telephone. Or, it could be a familiar face who would see her bare legs and just laugh. She decided to risk it and managed to pad all the way over to the sunken sitting area before Renzo looked up at her. 

“How’d you sleep?” he asked as she regarded his guest, a stranger, with a quizzical look.

“Hard,” she replied. "Knocked out.” 

Renzo chuckled, and the man sat across from him piped up, “Hey. I don’t know if you remember me. Jim.”

Leonor stared at his face. He was possibly the most non-Uspanian looking man she had ever seen, and his accent supported that notion. Still, she couldn't remember where she might have seen him. His was a forgettable face, too. “I don’t, sorry. Nice to meet you—again.” 

“Jim’s a photographer,” Renzo added. 

Leonor nodded. He looked like a photographer, and he looked like the kind of photographer that Renzo would befriend. Nonetheless, she feigned dismay, announcing, “Oh, no, I better go hide, then—!”

“Editorial, mostly,” Jim clarified with a laugh. “Yeah, I dabble in photojournalism, but strictly the kind that’s, you know, real news.” 

The conversation lulled while Leonor turned her attention back to Renzo, nudging him with her toes until he reached up to help her climb down onto the couch. Although Jim watched them, he may as well have not been present at all. Leonor wished he wasn’t. Buoyed by the satisfaction of having achieved a new kind of intimacy, Leonor hoped to float down the stairs and right into Renzo’s arms. She wanted a tour of the house, and she wanted to take her time in every part of it. In a sense, the day was halfway over, and it could have progressed like all of the sleepovers before it, making up for lost morning hours with late night ones. Renzo maintained late-rising night owl's hours, and Leonor was happy to follow him into bed and out of it irrespective of where the sun might’ve been sitting in the sky. Today, he was awake early with a friend, and Leonor had to settle for conveying her disappointment through expression alone. He smirked at her while he squeezed her thigh, and she took that as a wordless promise. 

Nestled between him and the couch, Leonor turned her attention back to Jim. “Jim, have you done anything I would recognize?” 

“Maybe,” he began, “But—”

“And you’re from Simerica, too?”

Jim chuckled, and Leonor felt Renzo react to that with his own amused scoff. 

“I met Renzo at the Beverly Hills Hotel,” Jim explained. “He walked into my shot and then told me to go fuck myself. Southern charm, this guy.”

Although there was affection in Jim’s tone, Renzo protested this characterization while Leonor snickered. It was believable, but perhaps that was the problem. “He was being a bitch about it. I wandered by. So what?”

“It was my first Interview job! I can admit I was a teeny bit on edge,” Jim retorted.

Again, they fell quiet while Renzo tended to the cigarette he’d been holding and Leonor observed from where she lay against his chest. 

Jim looked on. His expression shifted into one of careful concentration. He asked without any prelude, “Can I photograph you?” 

It wasn’t a question she couldn’t have anticipated, but Leonor was still surprised. She wrinkled her brow and cast another glance to Renzo before trying to clarify what Jim wanted. “Me?”

“Both of you. Together.”

“Um … When?”

“Now? Today. I have my camera right here.”

“It’s up to you,” Renzo murmured to her.

Indeed, Jim’s camera sat on the coffee table, perched atop a stack of tapes leftover from whatever difficult movie-watching decision Renzo had last made. Leonor looked at it, imagining the shuttering of its lens as it pointed toward her. What kind of photographs did Jim have in mind? She didn’t know what his work looked like, although his association with Renzo offered clues. He wouldn’t have befriended someone whose art he didn’t respect, and Renzo was just as well-acquainted with posing for cameras as Leonor herself. Had Jim taken photographs of him before, aside from whatever unintentional cameo he’d made when they first met? Polaroid flashes went off constantly during their nights of partying, but that, much like the hounding flashes of paparazzi, differed from what Jim was proposing. He wanted to photograph them in Renzo’s home. He would want a performance of candidity, that elusive desire of everyone in his profession. They would be relaxed, together, his object being their relationship, not either of the two individuals that formed it. It wasn't lost on her that he asked for a photo shoot while they ignored him in favor of each other.

Jim’s question, with Renzo’s gentle and immediate yielding, brought yet another once-sharp distinction into soft focus. 

“Well …” Leonor meant to forestall announcing a decision, but her tone gave it away. Jim smiled as she said to Renzo, “We do look good together. Not too many good quality daytime pictures, are there? Hm.”

Jim was eager to seal the deal. “Just a casual offer,” he insisted. “Just for fun. Perk of having interesting friends.”

Leonor nodded. He must have taken pictures of Renzo before. He acted like a bashful schoolboy with a surprising report card whenever she found photos of him to coo over. 'Put it away! It's embarrassing.' Those photographers had success with him, managing to coax out the version that played well with others and didn't resent his blessings. Fancy pictures taken by a friend would be something different. Perhaps Jim's photos had been monochrome closeups that turned his large, green eyes into a soft, warm gray and made even more pronounced the sharp lines of his face. Although she had seen countless photos of herself, she couldn’t fully see how she would fit into that frame—what they would look like together, through Jim’s mechanical eyes. 

“No publication? Nowhere?” she asked, forcing herself back to the concrete specifics. 

Jim shook his head. “I’ll give you prints to keep, and you can do whatever with them.” 

She felt a flutter. It was the kind of ingenuous excitement that always appeared with embarrassment nipping at its heels. What would she do, frame one and put it on her bedside table—stick it to her refrigerator with a cute magnet, tuck it into the sun visor of her car, keep it in her purse alongside her credit cards and notes-to-self? Even if they felt silly, there was nothing ridiculous in those suggestions. Her desire for what Jim offered was sincere. That, coupled with the subtle feeling of Renzo nuzzling his cheek against her hair, confirmed the suspicion she had awoken with less than an hour ago. Somehow, today was different. Every day after would have to be as well.

Surprised by the softness of her own words when she spoke, Leonor affirmed, “Okay, then. Sounds like fun.”

TRANSCRIPT:

[Leonor murmurs]

[Camera shutters, indistinct voices]

RENZO (O.S.) | Open your mouth—

[Birds chirping, Leonor laughs]

RENZO | How’d you sleep? LEONOR | Hard. Knocked out. [Renzo chuckles]

JIM | Hey. I don’t know if you remember me. Jim. LEONOR | I don’t, sorry. Nice to meet you—again.

RENZO | Jim’s a photographer. LEONOR | Oh, no, I better go hide, then— JIM | [laughs] Editorial, mostly. Yeah, I dabble in photojournalism, but strictly the kind that’s, you know, real news.

LEONOR | Jim, have you done anything I would recognize?

JIM | Maybe, but— LEONOR | And you’re from Simerica, too? JIM | I met Renzo at the Beverly Hills Hotel. He walked into my shot and then told me to go fuck myself. Southern charm, this guy. [Leonor snickers]

RENZO | He was being a bitch about it. I wandered by. So what? JIM | It was my first Interview job! I can admit I was a teeny bit on edge. [Laughter]

JIM | Can I photograph you?

LEONOR | Me? JIM | Both of you. Together. LEONOR | Um … When? JIM | Now? Today. I have my camera right here. RENZO | It’s up to you. LEONOR | Well … We do look good together. Not too many good quality daytime pictures, are there? Hm.

JIM | Just a casual offer. Just for fun. Perk of having interesting friends. LEONOR | No publication? Nowhere? JIM | I’ll give you prints to keep, and you can do whatever with them.

LEONOR | Okay, then. Sounds like fun.

[darl-ingfics]

Sunday Morning

Fandom: Seventeen

Sickie: Joshua (cold)

Caregiver(s): Seungkwan (with some Jeonghan and Mingyu)

Word Count: 1,518

Notes: I was waiting to post this, but the state of my country makes me sad, so imma just post now for the extra endorphins.

Rain spattered softly against the window as Seungkwan very gently pushed open the door. His heart melted instantly at the sight before him. Joshua was fast asleep, curled up on his left side under the blankets, left hand tucked against the pillow beneath his cheek. His right hand was held firmly in Jeonghan’s. The older vocalist was asleep as well, head pillowed against his arm, ass firmly sat in the dining room chair he’d muscled into the room. Jeonghan was wearing a mask, two actually; it had been one of the only coherent requests Joshua had made in the past 24 hours. 

In theory, this trip was supposed to be a blast. In reality, though, everything that could have gone wrong had gone wrong. It had been raining since they’d arrived, meaning all thirteen of them plus managers and staff and film crew, had either been stuck inside together or forced to make their planned games work out in the muddy, wet yard, neither of which had gone quite as planned. They’d had a great time filming, but things just kept going wrong, a series of funny inconveniences that would make for laughable memories after the fact.

But then Joshua had gotten sick. He’d woken up with a cold out of nowhere on their second day there, and, since he hadn’t expected it, hadn’t brought any medicine along with him. The only one who had brought anything was Seungcheol in the group’s designated ‘first aid kit,’ but it was soon discovered that the cold medicine in there was significantly expired. And, since the weather was so bad and they had minimal staff with them on the trip and Joshua had assured everyone that he was absolutely fine and could power through on ibuprofen and copious amounts of water, so one had gone to get more. 

And now, two days later, Seungkwan wasn’t quite sure how his hyung had made it as long as he did without collapsing. Especially given how many of their activities had taken place outside in the drizzly, windy, gloomy late fall weather. Especially when what had started as a simple cold quickly became something much more vicious. 

To Carats, Joshua’s behavior on camera would, hopefully, seem totally normal. Their sweet, soft, gentleman Shua, calmed by the quiet seclusion of the woods, at ease in the presence of his members. It wasn’t wholly unusual for him to sink into the background, to watch and laugh along at the younger members’ shenanigans. Sure, he’d become much more vocal and energetic the last few years, but he could be subdued when he wanted. The fans would assume that the peace of the forest had relaxed his crazier side, had brought back the sweet, soft Joshua of old. 

The members, though, saw right through him. Joshua was quiet cause his throat hurt and his voice was audibly congested. He was sitting to the sides because he didn’t want to get anyone else sick. When he did cuddle closer to his members if they initiated contact, (and as long as one or both parties was wearing a mask), it was because he was a shivery mess. He’d fallen asleep on the couch because he was exhausted. His members knew he was struggling. But they also knew he could handle himself, and would tell them if he needed a break. 

Which Joshua did do, but only after he’d spiked a fever Saturday afternoon. He’d fallen asleep on the couch between two scheduled filming times, and when Wonwoo went to wake him, Joshua had been so disoriented and delirious he’d almost immediately broken into a panic attack. It also hadn’t been helpful that his…

Which was why no one had woken Joshua up today. Why the camera crew had been asked to leave him alone, to cut the feed from the cameras already set up in his room. Why they’d set up the rotation of members sitting with him; first to stop any attempts to sneak footage of their ailing member, but also because of how terrifying it had been to see him so disoriented after waking up on the couch. The members never wanted to see their brother like that; they couldn’t imagine Carats would appreciate the view either. 

And Jeonghan had specifically requested to be with Joshua overnight, hence, the dining room chair. 

Seungkwan tiptoed forward, placing a gentle hand on Jeonghan’s shoulder to rouse him. Jeonghan woke with a sharp inhale, looking around nervously. “It’s just me, hyung,” Seungkwan whispered. Jeonghan instantly relaxed, glad he wasn’t immediately needed. “Let me swap in for a bit. You go sleep in my bed.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. You need rest, too.” Jeonghan sighed, nodding at the logic of his dongsaeng’s statement. “How is he?”

Jeonghan ran a hand over his face. “I think we finally got the fever down. But I don’t… know for sure.” The elder vocalist paused, running his finger down Joshua’s flushed cheek. “He’s so sick, Kwannie.” Seungkwan frowned as Jeonghan took hold of Joshua’s hand again. “He kept tossing and turning all night. Waking up in a panic, not with it enough to tell me what was wrong… there was a lot of English ramblings I couldn’t follow. I thought about waking Sollie, but I couldn’t leave him. I almost called his mom, too…”

Seungkwan’s hand latched onto Jeonghan’s shoulder, squeezed reassuringly. “You did great, hyung.” Jeonghan leaned back in his chair, tired eyes smiling up at Seugnkwan. The younger man leaned forward, kissing the elder’s forehead softly. “Go rest. I got him.”

“I know you do.”

Jeonghan stood up slowly, stretching his back until he heard a satisfying pop. He then quietly left the room, only turning back once with searching eyes to check if Seungkwan was serious. The younger man shooed him out before settling into the dining room chair. He caressed Joshua’s hand once, twice, assessing his sleeping form. Then, content that the elder man was still fast asleep, Seungkwan cracked open the door on the side table, ready to wait to be needed…

He wasn’t sure how long it had been when a quiet whimper from the bed caught his attention. Seungkwan watched the lump under the covers shudder with a raspy inhale, limbs slowly shifting around. Joshua’s head curved forward, face disappearing beneath the hem of the comforter. Seungkwan thought he’d fallen back asleep when a muffled cough shook the blanketed form. 

Seungkwan grinned, reaching out a hand and ruffling Joshua’s still visible hair. “Good morning, sleeping beauty.” 

Joshua’s face peeked back out from the blankets, squinting against eyelids still heavy with sleep. “H-hannie?” His voice was hoarse, drained, so terribly small. 

“It’s Seungkwan.” The younger man carded his fingers through Joshua’s hair again. “I let Hannie-hyung go sleep a bit, and took his place so you wouldn’t wake up alone.”

“Oh. Thank you, Kwannie.” He coughed again, his whole body contracting with the force of it as he hid his face in the blankets once more. Seungkwan flinched sympathetically, squeezing Joshua’s shoulder until the fit subsided. 

“Here.” Joshua peeked out again as Seungkwan offered him the reusable water bottle from the bedside table. “You good to sit up?” Joshua nodded, but didn’t make any move to do so. Seungkwan, nodding himself, reached forward, easing Joshua up and back the headboard before handing him the water bottle. 

Seungkwan sighed, biting his lip as he watched his friend drink listless from the built in straw. Joshua had been so sick the whole time they’d been at the cabin, and he absolutely hated seeing his dear friend so unwell. 

An idea popped into his head, and Seungkwan found himself acting on it without thinking. “Sunday morning, rain is falling,” he sang softly, a smile spreading on his lips. Joshua smiled in return. “I don’t know the rest of the words,” he continued to sing, still in tune. Joshua laughed, and even though the sound was hopelessly weak and congested, Seungkwan’s heart leapt at the sign of life. “Ba ba ba-da ba ba ba baaaa…” He started a slight shimmy of his shoulders to increase the comedy. “And somethin’ else ‘bout you again~” Joshua’s smile could’ve rivaled the sun as Seungkwan launched into the chorus of the song. He reached out his hand, and Seungkwan grabbed it, squeezing as he swayed along to his own version of the song. 

His song was cut off when Mingyu’s head poked around the door. His lips broke into a smile at the sight of Joshua awake. “Hyung, I brought you lunch if you’re up for it!” 

“It’s already lunch time?” Seungkwan asked in disbelief. 

Mingyu shrugged. “Not really. But the last meal Shua-hyung actually had was breakfast a few days ago, so this is kinda like… the spiritual successor to that.”

“That doesn’t make sense.” Seungkwan shook his head. 

“It does to me.”

“I love you, guys,” Joshua said softly. Seungkwan and Mingyu shared a look before turning back to their Shua. They didn’t need to say it back; Joshua already felt their love just like waking up on a rainy Sunday morning. 

[greetingfromthedead]

Hi Sooty, things in the world aren't so great now... It's hard to be positive now, and I hope you're doing okay too. Your works bring me a lot of comfort when times are rough, thank you. <3

But speaking of your works, I was thinking about how we should appreciate Vash's stubbornness sometimes lol. He's not a complete softie, he has his stern moments. If he were to see you down, or drowning in despair, I could see him clumsily, roughly, bumping his forehead to yours. With a light glare, Vash tells you to snap out of it. Him reminding you that it isn't all bad in the world, he knows right now sucks, it's the worst. But also, Vash pulling away from you slightly, to kiss your forehead. A soft murmured apology for the light headbutt, and him reminding you that nothing is permanent, things change. Just was thinking about how people tend to write him as soft comfort, which he can do, but we need to remember his rough (affectionate) parts too!

Hello, dear! <3

The world sure is messed up, but we gotta keep being brave and doing our best to stay positive. We can't give in to despair, so let's keep going, eyes forward! Let's be kind and headstrong, kind to ourselves and kind to others who are in the same position as us. Let us spread love and peace by whatever means necessary, just like a certain red coated man (hint: it's not Santa).

I am doing okay, that's the best way to put it unless I want to yap for the foreseeable future and I don't feel like it. I find comfort through writing and the sense of community surrounding this fandom and what I put out. If my fics help anyone else, I am all the more happy about it. I am really truly glad if what I write makes your day even a little better, be it via validation or just distraction.

Vash (in my head) definitely has some anger issues. But it's not so much anger than it is just feeling too much and too deeply. Like his emotions are so huge and he tries to shove them all into a manageable shape to be contained within him. There are situations where he gets so upset that the dam keeping his feelings in check just starts to leak, presenting as anger or tears. He is too stubborn to listen to anyone telling him that it is okay to feel different emotions and he deserves to cry and be angry. Vash himself is in denial about it, but he is also too worried what might happen if he does let go of control. He is always worried of being too much. That he will become a danger to those around him, not due to malice, but because humans are simply so much more fragile than him. I believe he has a chest full of feelings and the more he loves someone, the harder it is for him to hold on to that control over those pushed down and chained up emotions. I am CONVINCED that Vash has cuteness aggression. Nothing and no-one can tell me otherwise. Just seeing the person he loves wipes his mind clear at times, the love in his chest threatens to burst out and he just doesn't know what to do. He wants to squish and squeeze, but knows better than to do that. Seeing their loved one sad or upset has a similar effect, but it is stronger, because it is not just about keeping himself in check, but he has a deep desire to help and make things better. So it is a difficult balancing act where he sometimes becomes rougher than intended. He is tense and rigid, trying his best, but still he becomes more rough, nearly overwhelmed with his own feelings that want to escape him. If he has no other ideas left on how to comfort somebody, he resorts to willing things away. Just looking into the other's eyes and willing with all his might and the restrained feelings for them to feel better.

I am planning a little something for Valentine's Day, just HC for the boys and how they are while in love. I had already planned on writing some of the things I mentioned here in that post too, so guess this is a little sneaky peek at what's to (hopefully) come!

I hope my yapping is coherent, I am sleep deprived :P

Stay strong, love! Be brave and kind, especially towards yourself! You are not alone, you are appreciated and loved! Be a pain in the ass to those who don't want to see you succeed, and spite them by staying positive! Same goes for everybody else!

[eebeebackup]

More Coherent Thoughts on if I Have to Totally Restart My Shit

hi its eebee tumblr deleted my blog

So I've been looking around Reddit and what not, and...I'm not hopeful that my account will be restored tbh. Which sucks balls, especially considering I MADE THE BACK-UP and it didn't automatically download. Like...even if they don't wanna put my blog back up, can I have my back-up please? It wasn't saved on Wayback Machine either, so...everything else I've written might just be lost media. Oh well. But anyway, I have ideas.

As many of you know, I take the very professional and big brain method of 'fuck it we ball' when I write. When I wrote Tali/Ronan's stories, I never thought they'd take place in the same world, but honestly I think there's a lot of really fun ideas to be had there. I talked a lot about my world in my main project, and setting those stories there (which I decided like, half way through. oops) has helped me with a lot of other worldbuilding. I'd love to eventually use those characters and setting for almost an Era 2 of my main project, if that makes sense.

If anyone happens to have a copy of my posts/stories, please please send them to me! I'd love to re-upload them! Lessons...have been learned. I didn't have them anywhere else, and I can't find them on any archive.

I've been playing with the idea of restarting Tali's story here, as now I know a lot more lore stuff I want to implement with his dad and his friends, but it'd be a lot different. If I did want to eventually publish something with those guys, I do not own the rights to League of Legends. Crazy, right? But I wanted him to have something just as dorky to bring reader into; I've honestly been thinking maybe marching band, and having reader either be in band with him or she knows him from one of his classes. I'm a slut for STEM/Arts major pairs, so maybe it'd still be something like that? Or reader only knows him from his own programming classes, and doesn't know anything about music. I have a few ideas.

As for Ronan, all of his subplots were super messy, and I have a lot of ideas in general on how to change the start of his story as well as an overarching plot.

If I don't get my blog back, I kind of want to format this blog as if it were an otome game. Like, a certain collection of stories all exist in the same universe, and you can read them simultaneously or all at once. I don't want Taleisin's story to be as dramatic/gorey as Ronan's, but they'd have hints to each other through their connecting links (Callon/Alex). I also have a lot of lore I've planned about their whole family, Ronan's ex-wife, and other things too.

As for my other stories (Rennyn, Eldrin, Cyron) outside of that universe, I'd probably rewrite those too and follow the same otome game style format, only they'd be in a separate timeline.

I also plan on restarting Taleisin's dad's story/Widow's Hellfire since that one I do have saved on a Google Doc. I may reformat it a bit because tbh, I thought since I was posting it on tumblr it needed to have porn right away for anyone to want to read it, and now I'm not sure if that's the case.

So yeah! I'm not letting this bring me down. Rewriting things will suck, but...maybe it's a new opportunity. I'm open to suggestions; I've also played with the idea of Taleisin accidentally getting involved in mafia stuff, but again, keeping it to side stories so his main story isn't too dark.

I'm so glad some of y'all found me again. It really warms my heart seeing familiar faces!! Hopefully I'll get my blog back, but...if not, there's a plan. im being such a cool chill guy abt this rn

ALSO I WANNA LEARN HOW TO MAKE MY POSTS HAVE THE COOL OMBRE TEXT AND MAKE THINGS PRETTIER UNRELATED BUT YEA

[orym-blossoms]

I have talked quite a bit about this in the past, but given where we are in the campaign now and what has just happened, I wanted to put down some thoughts in a maybe, hopefully coherent kind of way. Mostly the thoughts chase each other around in my head going “brrrrr” so here’s hoping they cooperate.

Since we have known him, Orym has been on a Mission. When he first linked up with the Crown Keepers he had been on the road, presumably on his own, for at least four years, possibly five. At some time during those years, Keyleth charged him with finding out information on the attack that killed Will and Derrig to make sense of what happened that day. Early on he’s quiet, thoughtful, reluctant to take the lead, and honorable to a fault. Even as he opens himself up to create connections with this motley crew, he still guards part of himself. In fact, in the time we see them together he never tells the Crown Keepers about his family. The only mention we get is when he is asked by the Wildmother if he will continue on and Orym says, “For him, I will.”

None of this is to say he doesn’t feel connected to his friends, who manage to take him on a journey away from his primary directive, and–given the fact that Orym was alone at the beginning of ExU–it’s safe to say these are the first people he’s connected with in a long time. It was while he was with them that he started practicing the Zeph’aeratam again. Being part of the group with Opal and Dariax and Fearne and Dorian and Fy’ra showed Orym that the world was bigger than his grief.

But still, he kept it to himself.

After the events of ExU Prime, Orym and his two best friends from the Crown Keepers, Dorian and Fearne, went back to Zephrah. A place that I would argue Orym probably had returned to seldom, if not never, since Will and Derrig’s deaths. It was sometime during this journey that Orym told them both about his family, likely the first people from outside of Zephrah to know their names and what they meant to him. These friends went with him to continue his Mission, to try to help him get closure. And when Dorian left, Orym kept hold of the means to keep in touch, because Orym had gotten closer to Fearne and Dorian than he had gotten to anyone since he lost his family.

I would love to know what, if any, kind of conversations Orym had with Dorian and Fearne about Will and Derrig, especially Will. Because as the weeks went on, Orym did forge bonds with Bell’s Hells, he did start to tell more people about the ones he’d lost, but always at a distance. He kept the memories of who Will and Derrig were to himself, even as he was honest about how much he missed them. Did Orym take the chance to tell Dorian and Fearne about what they were like when they were alive? Because it’s clear that Orym is bereft, and angry, and lonely, and goes to sleep every night with them in his thoughts. Is there anyone else alive who knows the secrets of what Will and Orym were like when they were together, just the two of them?

There is nothing secret about the pain and anger he feels, but what about the joy?

The Mission as it was originally put to Orym is over now. They know everything about how and why Zephrah was attacked. That doesn’t mean Orym is stopping, because Orym isn’t the kind of person who could stop when someone is in danger. But the single-minded drive toward Otohan, toward answers and justice or whatever Orym thinks Will and Derrig would have wanted from him in this, was the mortar Orym used to build up his walls. He’s standing on a precipice of a vast future and he’s alone because he has made himself alone. His grief has made him alone. And there are so many complicated reasons why Dorian is the one he is finally, actually reaching out to now that there is no more path to shuffle down. 

I’m not sure if Orym even knows who he is anymore without this grief, without this Mission. In his mid-thirties his whole adult life has been spent married to Will, or grieving Will, or searching for answers for Will’s death. In the middle of the world ending, how do you decide what comes next?

A million episodes ago Orym offered to be the one Imogen could lean on, and then, after she walked away, he reached out to Dorian on the Sending Stone. I think Dorian has been the one Orym thought that he could lean on for a long while now. And I think that is intrinsically tied to his Mission, this journey, and his grief.