#i have spent an hour on this which should have been spent on research

[glassbxttless]

You don't see me requesting this...

Rye with chicken, and cheddar. And anything else you might want.

I've been thinking about it since you posted it.

Thank you <33333333333

It Was Only A Kiss

tommy gallagher (warfare) x fem!reader

word count: 4.1k+

summary: Sandwich Shop Request from (getaapologist) | You’ve got a weekend you need to spend with your family, who definitely think you have a boyfriend. So you ask Tommy to step in.

warnings: He does mention he’s a SEAL in here. There’s some kissing. Tommy’s falling in love whether he wants to or not. He wears his dress blues to a wedding. The typical fake dating romp. Very brief research was done, if it’s not accurate, it’s not accurate. Just enjoy it for what it is.

notes: this sandwich got a little out of hand! but order up for Tara! I had this queued for later this week but I couldn’t help myself anymore. Thanks to the girlies™️ for helping me pick which of these to post first. Big thank you to you, darling and to @keeryhours for reading this over. And big thank you to @peachyproserpina for editing (:

If you had ever wondered what setting yourself on fire felt like, you would guess it would be akin to asking Tommy Gallagher to be your fake date for the weekend. 

You had spent almost an hour pacing the small length of your living room, right in front of the coffee table. You were muttering half-formed speeches under your breath trying to work up the courage to just tell him, while Tommy sat quietly on your couch. He was watching you with a confused frown— the kind he got when he was trying really hard to be patient even though he had no idea what was going on. The kind that meant he was worried deep down in his bones, and not just about the hole you’re most definitely walking into the floorboards. Finally, you stop pacing and plant yourself in front of him. You breathe in, pressing a hand to your forehead worriedly as you let it all tumble out, “I really need you to fake date me.”

Tommy blinks and opens his mouth. But closes it when he isn’t sure what to say. “You need me to… what?”

You groan, dragging the hand that was placed on your forehead down your face. “Okay, that sounds bad. Like really bad. Please hear me out? Let me explain it.”

He just nods, his eyes wide and lips parted slightly, like he was bracing for impact. His ears are tinged red and the freckles dusted across his nose are hidden by a fresh new swell of pink. 

You start pacing again, words beginning to tumble out in a rush. “My family thinks I have a boyfriend. I know. I know. It’s this stupid thing— I didn’t even really lie! I just… didn’t correct them when they assumed! That’s not lying? And now my older sister’s wedding is this weekend, and if I show up alone, it’s gonna be a whole thing— pity looks, lectures, ‘maybe you should lower your standards’ speeches, all of it. I can’t even take thinking about all of that right now.”

Tommy’s brow knit together like he’s trying to make sense of the word vomit you’ve dumped right into his lap, “And you want… me? To be your fake boyfriend.”

You stopped in front of him again, two feet and a coffee table away, feeling like you were about two seconds from spontaneous combustion. “Please Tommy? You’re literally my best option. My only option. We’re already friends, you’re nice, handsome, and you’re convincing! It’s just a couple days, yeah? And then we come back here and everything’s back to normal.” But you watch as Tommy hesitates. He’s chewing on his bottom lip. Ears starting to turn a shade of red you didn’t even know was possible— which you know Tommy well enough by now to know that this was a sure sign he was overthinking it. Your eyes start to soften and you sigh. You could almost see the battle within his chest; he was probably worried it would make things weird between the two of you, probably sure you deserved someone cooler. Why would you ask him of all people? Why not Sam? Why not the bartender Kev you’d been seeing a few weeks back? Scratch that. He remembers now, Kev used your apartment as a bachelor pad. But underneath all the worry, the screaming thought in his head… he’s really just terrified because somewhere deep down, Tommy has had a crush on you since the day you’d met, so a lot longer than he liked admitting to himself.

You think you can see the moment he decides, like something clicks and the redness in his face just washes away. He gives you a tiny, lopsided smile. The same one that always makes your heart do stupid little weird gymnastics deep in your chest. “Yeah,” he clears his throat, voice a little hoarse. You aren’t sure if it’s from the mental anguish he went just went through or from dry mouth. “I’ll do it.”

Relief floods your veins and you flop down next to him on the couch. You turn your head to look at him, a grin spreading across your face as you throw your arms around his neck. He goes stiff for half a second, long enough for you to notice— his hands hovering awkwardly before they finally settle against the small of your back. From the way you have him pulled close, you could feel his heart hammering against his own ribs. “You’re a lifesaver, Tommy,” you mumbled into his hoodie, squeezing your eyes shut. And he just laughs, shaking his head. He kisses the top of your head and gives you one good squeeze with those arms wrapped around you and then you let him go.  

That’s how he finds himself standing side by side with you on your parents porch days later. Your hand was hovering just above the doorbell, sucking in a breath, each of your nerve endings buzzing like livewires under your skin. “You ready?” you ask, voice barely over a whisper as you glance up at Tommy.

He shrugs and shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans, just for somewhere to put them. “As ready as I’ll ever be to lie to a whole bunch of strangers.” He grumbles and knocks into your hip lightly, the force enough to make you stumble and hit the doorbell. 

“They’re not strangers,” you huff and roll your eyes, a smile playing at your lips. “They’re just really judgmental. Just… Be yourself, yeah? I like you. They’ll love you.” Tommy knows deep down you don’t mean anything by that. But it still turns his cheeks pink and gives him hope that you thought about him more than you let on. But before he could respond, the front door swings open— and your mom nearly tackles you both into a tight hug.

“There’s my baby!” She holds you tight, and kisses your temple before her eyes settle onto Tommy, “and the boyfriend!” she practically squeals, pushing you to the side. Tommy’s yanked into a hug before he could even process it. You watch as panic flashes across his face for half a second. And then you smile as he melts a bit and awkwardly bends slightly and hugs her back. “Oh, you’re so handsome,” your mom gushed, giving his cheek a playful pat as she pulls away. Tommy stands up straight, “And so tall! Good job, sweetheart.” Now it’s your turn for heat to creep up the back of your neck as Tommy just stands there, looking dazed and confused. He’s smiling like he’s just happy to be here with you. No matter the circumstances. Fake boyfriend? He’ll be the best fake boyfriend ever, even if it kills him, as long as he gets to see you smile for three days straight.

Your dad appears in the doorway next, giving Tommy a once-over— sizing him up like a general inspecting new recruits. And that makes him a little nervous. He squares his shoulders a bit and lifts his chin, a confidence you’d almost never seen in Tommy exuding out. Fake it till you make it, baby. You’ve heard him say it so many times. “Strong handshake, boy?” Your dad asks gruffly, sticking out his hand. Tommy reaches out, still quiet and manages to grip your father’s hand firmly enough that he gives a small nod of approval. Then came the inevitable question tumbling from his lips. “So, what do you do for a living, son?”

Tommy lets go of his hand, suddenly feeling a whole lot smaller as he rubs the back of his neck, a faint flush creeping up from his collar. He won’t look him in the eyes. He’s looking at you. Waiting for the nod that they’re safe. He’s waiting for you to let him know it’s okay. So you smile, so soft it helps him calm himself down, and then you nod. So Tommy takes a deep breath and then brings his eyes back to your dads. “Uh… I’m a SEAL. The Navy kind.”

The silence that grew over the four of you standing there on the porch stretched larger and larger. But your mom, the first one to gasp. The sound rattled around in your head like you’d just introduced her to a fucking movie star. And your dad’s eyebrows shot up so fast they practically hit his hairline. “Well, damn!” your dad barks out a laugh and lands a slap against Tommy’s back again. 

Tommy chuckles, pink-cheeked and awkward, a smile on his lips as he mumbles, “It’s not really that dramatic, I promise.”

But it didn’t matter as you lead him inside and away from your parents’ grasp. Your family was smitten with him. Your mom leaned over to you, whispering, topping it off with a wink— like Tommy wasn’t right beside you and could see and hear every move she made. “He’s a keeper.” You looked at Tommy, standing there beside you. A shy smile permanently etched onto his features under the weight of all the attention, and something squeezed tight in your chest at your mother’s words.

Yeah. He is. Even if you couldn’t. 

The rehearsal dinner later that evening was somehow even worse than you’d imagined it being. You tried sticking to the plan, the one you’d laid out in the car over that 10 hour drive home. You’d keep it to light hand-holding, flirty smiles, maybe a forehead kiss if someone was really watching. It was no big deal. But then one of your aunts, a few glasses too deep in the wine served for dinner, claps her hands like commanding a show. Which brings on an onslaught of giggles from her and your cousins, “Come on, you two! Let’s see a kiss!”

Everyone’s eyes are on you two now. And a wave of attention slams into you like a damn freight train. You turn to Tommy, eyes wide. He turns redder than a tomato in real-time. You almost feel sorry for dragging him into this. But he puts on a smile, gives you a little nod— okay, he’s good. You know he’s good now. But your family is relentless and is already chanting— Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!— so Tommy does the only thing he can think of to keep the charade going. He slides an arm around your waist, pulls your chair closer to his, and kisses you. It was supposed to be quick, just an innocent little kiss. Sell the lie and move on. But when his mouth brushes yours— careful, his lips soft— Everyone around you seems to fade away. The hand that had snaked its way around your waist, settles against your hip, grounding you both right there. You could feel the tremor in his fingers. It lasted maybe three seconds, but that was long enough to wreck him.

When you pull back, you shoot him a little smile. Tommy just sits there next to you, staring at you like you’d knocked the wind out of him. The whole room fills with laughter, giggles, and words of love, but he barely heard it. All he could think about was the way your lips felt against his. The way that kiss cracked his heart open wide and had it beating wildly in his chest.

That night, you offer him your bed— you didn’t mind sharing. But fuck he wasn’t crawling into a twin bed with you, having to press himself up against you in ways that certainly would not help him hide this ever growing problem inside his chest. So he just shakes his head and grabs the extra blanket and pillow to set up camp on the floor. “You sure?” you asked softly, raising an eyebrow as you pull your duvet up over your waist. 

You watch as he tosses the pillow down onto the shag rug next to your bed. He lowers himself down with a huff and rolls to his back before covering himself with that comically short and pink blanket. Tommy just smiles— it’s soft and shy. A smile he only reserves for you— He lets out a chuckle and then nods, “Yeah. ‘S your bed. I’m good down here.” He stretches out on the floor. And then he folds his arms under his head, staring up at the ceiling. 

You reach over to flip the lamp off. “Goodnight Tommy.” You mumble softly, letting yourself relax against the mattress. And it doesn’t take long before sleep wraps around you. The house was dark and quiet at this hour. He could hear your breathing, soft and even in the bed above him. It was the only sound he could really focus on.

So Tommy tries to tell himself to calm down. To will all of the thoughts plaguing him away. This was just pretend for you. None of it meant anything. But his head was spinning now. That kiss had certainly felt real. Maybe even more real than the few girls he had sworn he’d loved in his short twenty years. You had felt real. His arm wrapped around your waist, hand on your hip. His lips against yours. If he makes it out of this weekend he’ll never forget about that kiss. And lying here now, wrapped up in blankets that smelled entirely too much like you, it hits him like a sucker punch right to the chest, he wasn’t just nursing a crush anymore. He was completely, stupidly, helplessly in love with you.

And he really had no idea how he was supposed to keep pretending for two more days when all he wanted to do was make it real. So Tommy takes one last glance at your sleeping form above him. He knows he’s gotta get a grip. You don’t love him like that. You’re just friends. Nothing more. And he rolls onto his side, his back to you, willing himself to sleep until the buzz of his alarm. 

You wake up later than intended. There’s a soft rustle of blankets being kicked to and fro, and the faint sound of someone moving about the room. Back and forth from suitcase to closet, to suitcase to closet. Blinking sleepily, you push yourself up on your elbows, using one hand to rub the remaining traces of sleep from your eyes. You grin when you see Tommy— he’s already dressed in a white undershirt and dress pants. He’s shrugging a jacket up on his shoulders and fussing awkwardly with the buttons, like he’s never worn something so regal before. You rub your eyes, much like Bugs Bunny, and take another look. You nearly choke at what you see.

Tommy Gallagher was in his Navy dress blues.

The jacket clings to his shoulders. His chest looked even bigger in it than it did in those too-tight t-shirts he likes to lounge around in. He looks like he could probably carry you and half the wedding guests on his back without even breaking a sweat. The sleeves strain just slightly around his biceps and the gold buttons on the cuffs gleam under the soft morning light. But your gawking session is over too soon, when he catches you staring and immediately flushes red.

“You’re up,” he mumbles, glancing down at his hands fumbling with the buttons on his jacket, like he could somehow disappear into the carpet if he kept his gaze away from you.

You grinned sleepily, stretching lazily, much like a house cat. “Oh, I’m up alright. Look at you, Gallagher.” Your laugh is quiet and teasing. 

Tommy can feel his cheeks heat up as he grumbles under his breath. He tugs at the jacket collar like it’s choking him. “It’s.. It’s not a big deal. Alright? Only reason I’m wearin’ this is ‘cause I don’t fit in my other suits anymore.”

You raised an eyebrow, biting your lip at the thought. Tommy’s other suits too tight to shrug on over those broad shoulders. “You filled out that much, no?”

Tommy sighs like you’ve just punched him in the stomach and he ducks his head. His cheeks are burning brighter and he’s trying anything to hide that right now. “It’s not my fault, okay?” he mutters and sighs. “SEALs’ll either make you big or kill you. Guess I got the big part.”

You laugh softly, shaking your own head. Then you slip off that little twin bed, tug your pajama shorts down just a bit and cross the room to stand in front of him. His eyes flick up to yours for a moment and you reach out to fix the slightly crooked medal on his chest. He freezes under your touch— God, you were trying to kill him. He can’t do this. His breath hitching so subtly when your fingers brush against his chest, that if you weren’t standing this close, you would’ve missed it. “There,” you said softly, smoothing the fabric against his arms. “You look perfect, Tommy.”

Those hazel eyes jerk up to meet yours, and for a second, he swears the whole world was holding its breath. He could lean in right now, kiss you like he’s been thinking about since yesterday. He could— But then your phone buzzes with a loud reminder— The wedding, the one you’re doing all this God forsaken fake dating for, starts in two hours— and just like that, the moment between you is long gone. You both move slowly at first, not really wanting to peel away from one another. Tommy clears his throat and reaches for his shoes as he takes a seat on the edge of your bed. You grab your dress and makeup bag and pretend your heart wasn’t doing cartwheels inside your chest. You almost kissed Tommy. Not for your family. Not for show. Just for you. 

The ceremony was beautiful— even if it was a little overwhelming. Tommy didn’t leave your side once, just like you’d asked. His hand rested on the small of your back the entire time, a steady and reassuring presence. Giving you something to melt into. You caught a few of your relatives shooting you heart-eyes from across the pews, mostly your aunts and great aunts. Your mom gives you a little thumbs-up, with a smile so exaggerated it makes you snort out loud. When you lean over whispering into Tommy’s ear, “Congratulations Tommy, you’re officially Mom’s new favorite son-in-law,” he nearly chokes. His hand tightens slightly at your back— it’s barely noticeable— but you feel the way he shifted, like he was struggling to stay still. Like all it would take is one more word to have him giggling and smiling just like you’re used to. So you decide to push just a little more. “You know,” you look down at the way you’d placed your hand against his chest. It’s all for show, of course, “if this were real, they’d probably be planning our wedding already.”

Tommy pulls away at those words, like they burned as they hit him. You tilt your head up to meet his eyes, confused. And you’re just in time to catch him mumbling something about needing air as he pulls away from you and steps outside.

Your heart sank. Shit. Maybe you’d pushed him too far. Maybe the whole fake dating thing was getting to him the way you hadn’t expected. It surely was getting to you in a way you hadn’t expected. You were seeing him as more than just that goofy friend that crashed on your couch when he had a little too much to drink, or snuck your favorite candy into the movies, or remembered you liked tulips and not roses better than any of your dates had ever remembered before. But that’s what friends are supposed to be like, right?

You wait a few minutes— giving him a bit of space, pretending you weren’t internally panicking, you put on a smile, tell family members who ask that Tommy just went outside for a moment— And then you’re slipping outside yourself. You scan the Church’s courtyard until you spot him leaning against a tree. His hands are shoved deep in his pockets, staring at the ground like it had personally offended him.

You approach him slowly, carefully, like you shouldn’t even be awarded with his presence right now. You hurt him, somehow. “Hey,” you smile weakly, the words coming out a bit sadder than you intend. Tommy looks up when he hears you— and the raw, open look in his eyes nearly knocks the breath out of you. “I’m sorry for what I said inside,” you reach out to him, but think better against it. So you move to just lean against the tree as well. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I was just only joking—”

“No, it’s not that,” he cuts you off quickly, voice rough. He’s about to cry and you fucking hate it.

You hesitate, crossing your arms over your chest to hide the way your hands were shaking. You look up at the leaves above you, taking just a few moments to bask in the way the sun heats everything up around you, the way the birds chirp and sing, and then you sigh. “Then what is it?”

Tommy let out a shaky breath, stealing another glance at you as he’s pushing off the tree. “It’s just…” He scrubbed a hand over his hair, the overgrown buzzcut had grown on you. He thinks, It’s now or never. If he doesn’t get this out, he never will. “This isn’t pretend for me, okay?”

Your heart stops right there in your chest. He swallows hard, looking like he was about to bolt, he wants to. God, he wants to. He wants to run and hide like he never agreed to this fucking shit— but he forces himself to stay put right there. He doesn’t move an inch, afraid to even breathe. Just like he was trained to do. But then he forces himself to look you in the eye, to take a deep breath. “I had a crush on you before all this,” he admits softly, voice barely above a whisper. “Thought I could handle it… For you. Thought… y’know, i’ll fake it, have a few laughs, no big deal. You’d get what you wanted out of it and you’d be happy.” He shakes his head, giving a shaky little laugh. He tilts his head up a bit, to stop the tears threatening to slip. “But now I’m standing here thinking about what it’d be like to do this for real. To kiss you and not have to stop. To kiss you when no one’s watching. To wake up next to you for the rest of my fucking life. And I can’t… I can’t fake that anymore. My chest feels like it’s going to explode.”

The world tilts on its axis. You push off the tree and take a step toward him. Your chest was aching so badly it felt like your heart might split in two.

You wanted that too. You take a moment to try and recall each time Tommy looked a little too long. How it would feel warm from your chest straight to your toes. You recall each passing brush of Tommy’s hand and how it had set your nerves alive like fireworks. Maybe you’d wanted this longer than you’d even realized.

“Tommy…” He steps closer too. He’s nervous, his hands are hovering at your waist like he was asking permission without words.

“I’m fallin’ in love with you, okay?” he says, so soft you barely caught it over the breeze. “Might already be there. So you’ve gotta say the word. Tell me to get lost. Please.”

You didn’t really think about your next actions. You just grab him by the front of his dress blues jacket, careful of the pins and you pull him down into a kiss. This one wasn’t for show, it was just you and Tommy out here. This one was everything he hadn’t been able to say in words, every long glance he’d given over the last few years, every nervous laugh he used to cover up how red his cheeks were from watching you cut vegetables, every time his hand brushed yours like he wanted to hold it but he was just too fucking scared. Tommy kissed you like he was starving for it. One of his hands slides up to cradle your jaw, the other wraps around your waist and hauls you so close there wasn’t a breath of space left between you.

When you finally pull back, you’re both gasping. He rests his forehead against yours, his eyes squeezed shut like he couldn’t believe this was real. “Still wanna be my fake date tonight?” you ask softly, a giggle threatening to leave your lips.

He laughs, breathless and wrecked. “Only if you’ll let me be your real one after.”

You smiled wider and kissed him again right there next to that tree. You kissed him like there was never a doubt in your mind that this was where you’d end up. Because there wasn’t a doubt, not anymore.

tags ;; @peachyproserpina @getaapologist

[keydekyie]

Here's another video I think is helpful.

Anyway. Creationism is a big, sad lie. I would know because I was once a die-hard creationist.

I went to a classical Christian middle school that by all accounts was very good, and many of my classmates went on to become successful students. Heck, my best friend has a PhD in microbiology. So when I tell you my school tried its best to make me a creationist, I want you to realize that they weren't being stupid. They were extremely good at their jobs.

I was spoon fed every argument you can think of, and I ate it all up. The stuff about eyes, DNA, bats, radio carbon dating, complexity, "kinds", taking the bible literally, all of it. In my school, evolution was treated as a laughable (and simultaneously diabolical) deception. Whenever they talked about it, it was with a great big eyeroll. "Secular scientists are soooo dumb, look at this, they don't even take into account that dolphins are mammals that look like fish! Haha!" (yes this argument was on a poster in my 8th grade physics class room. I'm not joking)

I've always been fascinated by animals, particularly the way their forms and functions interact. Even as a little kid I was obsessed with bones and organs, teeth and their shapes, locomotion and its mechanisms, the ways creatures were made, and all the reasons animals were shaped the way they were. My school told me god did all that on purpose, and I believed it. I was filled with awe and wonder for it all.

Then I took a public high school biology class.

I was insufferable, but I got straight A's. In fact I got such a good grade in Bio it was something like 110%. Someday I should go and apologize to my poor teacher. He had a lot of patience for my... apologetics.

There was an evolution unit.

Here's the thing: I had always had some nagging doubts about what I was taught in 6th grade biology, but the way it was taught to me made me feel like I'd go to hell for having questions. I was compelled to always put my faith before any real criticisms. They really built a shell around my intelligence and curiosity, trying to tamp it down, confine it to what they could control. And the moment they weren't around to keep their grip, it began to crack.

I read about synapsids and diapsids and why they're called that. I read about theropods and birds. I dissected a pigeon and spent hours after class carefully investigating the placement of its air sacs, the structure of its bones. I learned about DNA sequencing and the amounts shared between related species, including humans' and other primates. I learned how mutations occur and about fitness.

And after all that, I did a little project for myself.

As a thought experiment, I sat down and mapped out a speculative evolutionary tree for a reality in which humans had evolved from a tree-dwelling cat instead of a primate. I drew each stage, imagining it as a discrete animal that had to function in its environment (rather than as a half-baked wretch, which is how creationists imagine transitional animals).

As I imagined all this and sat with the thing I was doing, I became filled with a terrible, swelling shame and dread. What I was doing was a sin. This was what they'd warned me not to do. Sacrilege, blasphemy. This would destroy me.

But then, the years passed, and a dawning, beautiful clarity seeped into my brain through this imagined little evolutionary tree. I kept coming back to it, imagining the ways humans would be different if we were carnivorans instead of primates. I researched carnivore evolution, the structures, the history. Fossils, relatives, trees. Everything we knew about the ways carnivorans function in their environments and adapt to change. I learned about seals and weasels and racoons and wolves and dogs, I learned about hyenas and mongooses and the ways we have categorized "dogs" and "cats" and why. I learned about carnassials and retractable claws and how cats can't taste sugar and...

The shell broke.

It made sense. It all made incredible, glorious, perfect sense. More perfect and divine than anything taught to me about creationism. It was as though for years I'd been stumbling through my understanding of science with my eyes closed, and I'd finally opened them.

Evolution isn't a system, life isn't a process. It's simply the result of a thousand billion trillion rolls of the cosmic dice. Many of those dice rolls fail, but some don't, and the ones that don't keep marching on down the line until they either fail or succeed again, and so on. Everything is the way it is for a reason, but sometimes that reason is "if it ain't broke, don't evolve it." Which is how we ended up with optic nerves on top of our retinas, a laryngeal nerve that loops around our aorta, and an inability to produce our own vitamin C. None of that makes sense through the lens of creationism, but it makes perfect, terrible sense through evolution. And there are many other examples, so many it becomes overwhelming. I was overwhelmed, and when I was, I stopped believing in creationism.

The world is an amazing place, and the power of life is something that continues to astound me. There is much out there left to discover, but there's so much we already know, as well! If you really care about this incredible planet (and universe) in which we live, you should give it a chance to speak to you, without the self-imposed filter you cling to. It's holding you back, confining you.

Take a breath, open your eyes. There's nothing about knowledge that can hurt you. It can only set you free.

A inconvenience for paleontology

The “Lazarus taxa,” they appear alive in populations today and in ancient sediments (supposedly 1/3 of a billion years old). The horseshoe crab, damselfly, coelacanth and gar fish, lobsters, Andean tapir, magnolia flowers, Wollemi pine, and many others.

Does this bring up a conflict in geologic dating?

[ghaasy]

Enjoltaire based on this Challengers scene

[botanical-garden-system]

Did yall know that there are several researchers actively trying to prove DID is not a real thing? Did yall know that there are several articles in the multitude of databases I have accessed through my school that ACTIVELY try to find and prove how DID isn’t fucking real???

When people tell me, “research disagrees with ___,” I hope yall realize that many researchers dont even think we exist. They dont think you can experience multiple identities. And yes, these research articles are within the past 5 years.

There are clinical psychologists with entire practices of therapeutic professionals that treat people with a focus in trauma and dissociative disorders as “untrained” and “stupid.” Not even researchers agrees on our existence, and this is NOT something you typically see within the peer reviewed articles of any popularly discussed disorder.

Many are legitimately PEER REVIEWED ARTICLES. Just keep this in fucking mind when you start saying shit like, “But research disproves your identity.” Many researchers actively try to disprove we exist in GENERAL.

Also I have yet to find a research document stating anything yall have claimed against plurality and I have easily 50-60 hours worth of digging and researching multiple databases (APA psycINFO, APA psycTESTS, Proquest psychology collection, Sage Journals, Google Scholar through a college institution, NIH, etc.). In fact, I actually have/had a few articles discussing how we need to start re-addressing DID and approaching it as psychologists.

I can probably list off several medical journals that talk about DID, provide you with at least 30-50 different peer reviewed scholarly journals, case studies, and collections, and I can confidently say that we are STILL trying to connect dissociation and trauma research.

At most, we can say that there is a HIGH CONNECTION BETWEEN cPTSD (yes, specifically cPTSD) and DID, but people are still figuring out whether you can see examples of DID in the brain through neuroimaging (which we have figured this out some, it’s super cool) and what other disorders DID is comorbid with.

We can’t be claiming SHIT about what is or isn’t right now. I am not at all a discourse account, and I most likely will not interact with syscourse outside of this, but I AM a researcher who has spent countless hours trying to better understand DID so that I can help myself and others around me. If yall were genuinely digging, yall would realize how fucking abysmal the understanding of psychology really is, let alone disorders that are stigmatized.

I WILL engage in discussing research that I have found with peer revision because I believe this education should be free and readily available to everyone. I am NOT engaging in debates on whether you believe plurality exists outside of DID. That has not been researched or discussed enough to make any sort of claim. The real point behind research is so we can better understand our world, our brains, and our society. The best we can do right now is LISTEN to the experiences people have and MAKE research to better understand their experiences.

[dekariosclan]

We know from the epilogue that Gale is often so immersed in his research that he can ignore everything in the world, including Tav, until he finishes. How will Gale make amends after a few days of ignoring his love?

Ps: Tav wasn't really mad at him, of course, but sometimes it's a shame that the book is given more time than Tav, don't you think so?

Ooh what a great question!! 🥰

So I have to imagine that Gale getting caught up in his research—the topic of which can be anything and everything, depending on what his brilliant mind decides to focus on that week—is something Tav gets used to pretty quickly.

But I don’t believe that Gale ever fully ignores Tav, no matter how passionate he is about the topic he’s working on. For example, I don’t see him locking himself away in his study for hours at a time and completely forgetting to interact with Tav. This is a man who spent a year+ in lonely isolation, bereft, desperately longing for company. This is a man whose greatest wish (as shown by the magic mirror in Act I) has always been for a sweetheart to join him in his tower. And this is a man who, even when he read Karsus’s book and his thoughts were consumed with the knowledge it contained, was still focused on Tav, and what Tav would think, and how Tav would react.

So all that said—what I DO think happens is that he becomes immersed in his research to the point of complete distraction.

I can see him going up and down the tower, rummaging through his piles of books and bookshelves, paging through giant tomes, then tossing them aside and muttering to himself, while his conjured mage hand scribbles notes on a piece of parchment. Meanwhile, Tav watches all of this with fond amusement—because while Gale is pacing around with his nose buried in a book, his mind seemingly a million miles away, he’ll still occasionally take Tav’s hand and press it to his lips for a gentle kiss, all without ceasing his reading.

At other times he’ll step into the room and, with his gaze focused on the book or notes clutched in his hands, start bouncing ideas off of Tav: “My love, did you know that the alchemical properties of Daggerroot make it an excellent weapon coating? Do you think it could also be used for medicinal properties? Yes or no?…Hmm—I can tell by your silence that you are hesitant about it…you know, I do believe that you are correct in your assessment. Yes, now that I think about it, Mugwort remains the superior choice. Excellent advice my love, you truly know how to steady the direction of my mind even through the most volatile of seas!” Then he’ll hurry away—all without realizing that Tav was not even in the room, but in the hallway behind him, watching all this play out while trying not to laugh.

AND THEN, finally, when Gale has completed his work and the scholarly portion of mind is satisfied (until the next topic takes hold…) Tav will look up from whatever they were doing to find that their delightful wizard has, without their noticing, conjured an entire dinner spread of Tav’s favorite foods, scented candles, and flowers.

And their wizard will be before them, gently plucking whatever book or letter or item that Tav had been engaged with from their grasp, so that he can take both of their hands in his. Then he’ll caress them slowly, while smiling lovingly into Tav’s eyes, his full attention on them and them alone.

“Done with your research now, are you?” Tav will ask with a smile.

But Gale will shake his head. “My love,” he will admonish gently, as he worshipfully caresses his fingers over their face, down their jawline. “You should know that a wizard’s research is never done.”

Then he’ll place his bent finger under their chin, and smile. “I’m simply moving on to studying my favorite subject,” he’ll conclude, as he tips their head up and kisses them deeply.

[verysanebsdfan]

𝟽 ʏᴇᴀʀs ʟᴀᴛᴇʀ - sᴇɴᴋᴜ ɪsʜɪɢᴀᴍɪ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

just something I wrote cuz I was bored...

masterlist

cw: MANGA SPOILERS, you get shot, not a graphic description or smth tho, not proofread

wc: 629

It was all going as planned, the North American team succeeded in turning on the petrification device, and now it was just a matter of minutes until it reached us again. You planned it with Gen, to confess to the love of your life right before you get petrified, so you can drown in shame and embarrassment until you get revived again, you totally forgot to account for the unfortunate situation you are in.

Senku got shot down, most of you did, really, including you. You were lying on the ground, barely breathing by now, and not far away from your side was Senku, who also found himself in an almost identical predicament.

“Senku…” You choke out, your teary eyes trying to grasp as many details of him. But he probably didn’t hear you, for he was too busy talking with Dr. Xeno. 

“...The truth is, my people and I are just full of desire.” You heard Senku say before the light could touch you. The stone spread around your body, leaving you in an empty darkness, only you and your thoughts.

1…

2…

3…

4…

2498…

90 568…

“I cannot take it anymore…” You thought. It’s barely been 25 hours yet this is getting too boring. Before, you could stay awake for a whole 3720 years, until Senku revived you, but now, after a day, you want to give up?

“Remember, what did I think about?” 

“Oh.”

“I thought about him.”

Yet it aches so much.

When you first met Senku, you were just a first grader, too smart for your good. Hearing your classmate say that he wanted to get to space as soon as possible was funny. What a cute dream, really. But he didn’t just say what he wanted, he worked for it. Hours after hours spent in the library, researching things. Hours spent at home or outside doing experiments.

It did not take long for your curiosity to take over and approach him, which is how you ended up befriending him.

There were many more interesting memories you often found yourself reminiscing about. There was one that stood out though. 

Last year in middle school, your whole class decided to have a get-together in a park, basically a picnic, it was late afternoon and the guys decided to play truth or dare. A guy 

asked Senku who out of the girls in the class would he like to date the most. Of course, the radish-head said no one, since relationships are trouble-prone. One thing however stuck. Taiju snickered and said your name. You immediately waited for Senku to deny it, however, he didn’t, his cheeks might have flushed a little, too.

So why? Why can’t you just confess? He will either reject you, or he won’t.

You will either be able to move on. Or you will get a romantic partner. It’s either a win or a win. So why. 

Either way. Back to counting.

589 642…

…

237 492 150…

Something over seven years? And then crack. 

You were awake now. Standing in front of you were Senku and Suika. Everyone else was close by, still petrified. 

“Senku?” You let out a soft whisper, and he nods.

“Sorry for not responding to you back then.” He said, and you immediately recalled how you called out to him, but he didn’t hear you. 

“You heard?” 

“Of course. I also wanted to talk to you back then, but the situation called.” He said and you let out a sob. 

“Idiot, that’s why I love you.” You say and wonder if you should regret it.

“I know, same, now let’s got wake up the others.” He said as if it was not a big thing. Of course, he sucks when it comes to emotions but c’mon!!

[dottowos]

desiderium.

synopsis: Omega desires you in ways he cannot have you, so he has to make do with what he’s given.

includes: dottore (omega) w/ fem! reader

notes: Omega touches himself while fantasizing about you - so none of this actually happens, he just really wishes it would. Established relationship, oral (reader receiving), vaginal sex, creampie, lots of teasing, posessiveness, he makes you beg and cry, he's a lil freak tbh, reader uses no pronouns, mdni (tell me if I should add anything.)

It wasn’t really a secret that you were the object of the Second Harbinger’s affections. Frequently it would be witnessed by shocked agents the depth of attention you were given by not only the Doctor himself, but also his segments. Hell, you were the only one who could ever interrupt their experiments!

If you asked the Omega segment, there were numerous reasons he could list as to why he found you so endearing. First, your mind was ever so interesting. He loved to pick at it, discover new ways to make you tick or blush. Not to mention how he loved to do research with you. Your perspectives could be quite helpful, especially when compared to the agents who feared opening their mouths.

Moving on, he loved your expressions too. When your eyes crinkled gently, full of love, and when a great smile stretched across your face. Or when you were pouty and ignoring him because he didn’t give you enough attention, though he always knew how to get back on your good side. And your voice, it was refreshing to hear after ungodly hours spent in a lab.

And you - you in general, you were attractive. He had only seen you nude a few times, but he had every spot and curve of your perfect body mapped out and memorized in his mind. Sadly, it was more of a see, don’t touch situation.

It was evident only Prime Dottore had that opportunity. 

Your… nightly activities with Dottore were rather obvious to the other segments. There weren’t many explanations for why you would walk around the lab the next day a bit sore with numerous marks around your neck, despite your attempts to cover it up. Prime didn’t need to say anything - his message was clear.

Still, that didn’t stop Omega from desiring you. This was one such moment he found himself fantasizing about you. He had been working continuously for a long time and hadn’t seen you much, so this was a much-needed moment of respite. He sighed as he leaned back in his chair and began to palm himself. 

Omega knew you’d feel just as good as you looked - his hands twitched, trying to imagine your skin against his, and so did his cock. He made quick work of his zipper as he imagined how you’d look under him, a common scenario.

He had always wondered how you’d act. There were so many possibilities he could think of, all of which sent a thrill throughout his body. Knowing you, you’d probably be shy about it. 

“Omega,” you whined, as your hands half-heartedly tried to stop him from undressing you, embarrassed by his forwardness. For some reason, you didn’t think he’d want you in this way too. “A-Are you sure?”

“Positive,” he purred, intent on seeing you laid bare and all needy for him, his hands already set on squeezing and playing with your soft breasts as you softly moaned. He had only ever heard such cute noises in his head, unfortunately. But he would continue to draw them out for as long as he could, mercilessly teasing you and refusing to touch you where you really wanted him to.

But regardless, all of these scenarios ended with you obediently taking his cock. However, as much as he wanted to be inside of you, he couldn’t forget about how much he wanted to taste you. Yes, your taste, he thought as he licked his lips and pumped himself again. 

“Ah, ‘Mega, please…” your breath hitched as he experimentally rubbed his finger over your clothed cunt, your wetness seeping through, “don’t tease,” you fruitlessly demanded as he ignored your plea. Omega would take his time with you, savor your sweetness like he would with one of your baked treats. He was a very patient man after all. (You? Not so much, but you would have to deal with it.)

Eventually, he would slip a finger, and then another, and then one more inside your aching pussy and hold you down as your back arched, pinning your hands above your head as you were insistent on trying to cover your mouth. Your moans were one of the loudest and most accurate proofs of the effect he had on you, and he refused to let them be silenced.

“Now, now, what did I say about that? Try to do that again and I’ll stop.” You could only let out another choked moan and look at him helplessly as he curled his fingers inside of you, and then sped up his pace until you finally finished all over his hand. It was almost filthy how he began to suck and lick on his own fingers that were drenched in your essence, concentrating on tasting every last drop. You wanted to look away out of embarrassment, but you were entranced by the scene, probably because it was just that hot.

Of course, that would only be the beginning of it. There was no way he would be satisfied with just that. Barely giving you a chance to recover, he pried your legs open further to lick and suck at your cunt, relishing in how your thighs squeezed around him - he’d make sure to mark them up some more later. Your hand was tangled in his hair, alternating between trying to push him away from coming too much or pushing him further down on your needy pussy. He didn’t care, either way, your juices would be smeared around his lips as he made sure to lick it all up. By the time he was done with you, you’d be struggling to even call out his name, eyes hazy and too far gone.

As Omega thought about you more, he stroked himself faster until he was almost close. But he had yet to bury himself inside your tight cunt. 

It was all too easy to tease you, reveling in how your eyes darted around nervously at the sight of him pumping himself as he prepared to enter you. You licked your lips and swallowed as you briefly wondered how you’d take him. Ah… your mouth too… Omega decided he could brush his cock against your supple lips another day.  

The segment nudged his tip leaking pre-cum against your cunt, on the verge of slipping in until he pulled out just at the right moment, teasing you as he delighted in your frustration. He would only ever give you what you wanted if you begged for it, his favorite subject.

“Use your words, darling.” You gripped the sheets harder at his stupid insistence.

“P-Please… please, I want- need you inside, Omega,” your plea came out as a ragged breath, desperately needing some relief already. Unfortunately, your lover only hummed, seemingly unsatisfied with your response, and continued to hold your thighs steady, still pressing himself against your pussy. You huffed in slight irritation. 

“Please Omega, just fuck me already,” your words came out speedy and rushed as you sniffed, a tear rolling down your face at how intently he was staring at you with his singular red gem. Finally, a content grin appeared on his face now that he had gotten what he wanted. Perhaps there was still some work to be done, but now even his patience was wearing thin, especially when you had declared your neediness for him so blatantly.

Lining himself up with your entrance, Omega began to push himself in slowly, wanting to drag out both your and his pleasure, and also having the uncharacteristic consideration to make sure you weren’t too overwhelmed. Your walls fit snugly around him, offering him pleasure that he could have never reached by himself. Your legs were hooked around him, tightening as he finally buried himself completely in you.

“Omega… Omega…” you breathed out his name, adjusting to the sensation of being filled with his cock. You moved your hand to intertwine with his (because of course you did, you were too sweet for your own good) and he quickly did so, locking his fingers with yours. Pulling back out, he moved to kiss you which you reciprocated, before slamming back in, your scream muffled by his lips on yours. From then, he pounded into you without mercy, making sure to give every other part of your body attention too, from licking your tears to sucking and nipping at your breasts.

From the way your nails harshly dug into his back, he could tell you were close. He knew his mind couldn’t sufficiently replicate how lovely you’d look once you came on his cock, but he had to try anyway. Picking up the pace, he continued to ram into that one spot and rubbed your clit. He wasn’t far behind - if he had not met you, the segment would have continued to think that chasing such a high with another person was a waste of time. But now that he had you in his grasp, a part of him could understand why the desires of humans overtook their common sense. Logic had no place right now, for you were completely intoxicating. 

Snapping his hips into you with one final thrust, he felt your walls squeeze around him as you came hard, his name only a half moan as your throat was sore from too much talking. The feeling had Omega holding back his own noise as he came too, still keeping up a mostly unaffected demeanor although that was far from the truth. Omega remained inside of you for a little while, stroking your cheek as you caught your breath, before pulling out and watching his cum ooze out of you.

A perfect sight. A perfect mark. A perfect claim.

As he came to, Omega sighed at the mess staining his hands. It wasn’t as nearly as satisfying as his little fantasy, but it was something nonetheless. 

Couldn’t you see? See his selfish need for you, see how his gaze burned into you at particular moments, or how he traced your collarbone for a few moments too long? If only he had a chance, he could give you pleasure beyond what his creator could give you, he’d make sure of that. Any way you wanted it, he’d make sure you’d be blissed out.

… Well, regardless of his desires, Omega had to clean up and get back to work. Maybe if he was lucky, you’d break into his lab despite him telling you he was busy and cuddle on his lap, unaware of his previous pastime.

[harmless-variety-of-garden-snake]

Good Girls Don't (But I Do)

I've been meaning to post this for like three days. Actually longer than that, but my attention span is shot to hell because I have not been sleeping well. Anyway, who wants some Buck discovering he's into feminization? I sure do. You can read it over here on AO3, and there's a preview below the cut because it starts with porn:

Buck has a healthy relationship with his sexuality and his body and sex, but he's also learned through those journeys that he needs to be open to changes and to trust himself. He'd spent years convincing himself that the way he looked at other guys and the way he viewed porn was totally heterosexual—it wasn't—and that nothing about that could point toward what was missing from his life. He'd felt jealous of friends who seemed to be settled into their own skin, even though he's always been open to trying anything and gets called confident for it. Kinks, fetishes, all of that came pretty easy to him. He would try most things once, because the worst that could usually happen is he found out he didn't like it.

So he really doesn't freak out when he's watching bisexual threesome porn on his day off and starts getting so into it that he's starting to verbally participate in the scene, and as the actress begs the guy inside of her to fuck her pussy hard, Buck moans: 

“God, yeah, fuck my pussy.”

He then shudders on the dildo he's riding as he cums over his fingers, whining through the aftershocks as he grinds down on the toy, wishing it was his boyfriend's dick. When he's done, he eases back, pulls the toy out with a small wince, and blinks at the ceiling. 

“Huh,” is all he can really say.

He spends the rest of his afternoon researching, jerking off, and trying to get in touch with Tommy so he can confirm that he'll be coming over after his shift. 

Buck finishes putting away the utensils from his dishwasher and goes upstairs to pop his phone on his dresser, setting a timer and using a pillow as a mark for framing. He's had to get creative with how he shoots nudes since dating Tommy, because it's not all about dick pics. Sometimes he just wants to show off his ass or reach back and spread himself. He does that now, biting his lip as he waits for the camera to go off. When it's done, he’s satisfied with how his ass looks and how red his hole is from being played with. The camera had even caught his hole mid-flex, so it's just the slightest bit open.

He checks the time and waits until Tommy should be alone before sending it, reflexively clenching on nothing while he waits. He wants Tommy’s dick now and hates that he has to wait a few more hours for it.

Instead of texting, Tommy calls him. 

“I'm in my truck,” Tommy says in lieu of greeting. “Jesus, kid, what have you been doing?”

Buck almost tells him the truth, which is that he's been figuring out whether or not his new kink is a kink or if it was just a heat of the moment thing. He goes with a half-truth instead. “Thinking about you.”

“I absolutely can't jerk off in here, but you're going to kill me. How many times did you cum today?” he asks, his voice going gravelly and low. It always makes Buck’s hair stand on end in a good way, because he loves it when it sounds like Tommy’s about to lose control. That exact tone is usually a precursor to hands grabbing him and a mouth crushed against his or teeth closing on his neck.

Read the rest here.

[bahngarang]

chapter 7.0 ☆ the lock and key theory

ss: 3

wc: 1,763

cw: swearing, food mentions, jokes about disability (from a disabled writer)

a/n: seeing my work while I'm innocently scrolling through the skz x reader tag is WILD y'all

yn's office hours were... interesting. during their first year as a part-time professor, it had initially been pretty boring. no one really came to their office. the students preferred to go to their more serious professor, as it were – and dr jang was definitely more serious and more experienced. she had more of a reputation. which was fine, yn was perfectly happy to lesson plan and do the more computer heavy side of their research in that time. they enjoyed working alone. no distractions.

the second year? not so quiet.

it had started small. justin being the main instigator. he was always one of the more outgoing ones. he came in once or twice a week, bothering them with questions about the material. things he probably could have figured out on his own, but it was kind of nice. 

now, yn had justin, and oftentimes a few of his friends, hanging out with them during office hours. doing homework, asking about assignments and essays and sometimes just yapping. and, strangely... yn liked it. sure, sometimes they had to use urban dictionary to decipher the young people language, and deal with the occasional millennial/old person joke, but it was pretty fun.

today was one of the more yappy days, clearly. justin did have his laptop out, precariously placed on his legs, but he was completely ignoring it except to make sure it didn't drop to the floor. instead, he was rambling on about how painstaking sewing beaded fabric was, and stitching and so on. don't get them wrong, yn was absolutely listening, but they were also having something close to a religious experience with today's cheesecake that dr jang had brought up from the cafeteria for them.

"–and i've already managed to break two needles on that stupid stuff, even though I spent ages unpicking the beads by hand, like, at this point, is it even worth it?"

"mmh," yn hummed sympathetically, taking another bite of cheesecake, chewing slowly. shifting on their desk chair, they crossed their right leg over their left to get more comfortable. "well, considering how much you've been talking about this for the last couple of months, I don't think you should give up now just because you're frustrated over some fabric."

justin huffed. "yeah, but it's annoying, and-" he stopped, and yn looked up at him from their lesson plan after a few moments of silence.

"what?"

"nothing, it's just..." he squinted at their knee. "has that tattoo on your knee changed? did you get a cover-up or something?"

"it's not a tattoo, it's my soul mark," yn said, before looking down at their knee in confusion. they were less averse to showing it now that it was pretty much unreadable. or... it was.

"what the fuck..." yn muttered to themselves. it wasn't completely as it was before all the knee surgeries, but it was definitely... closer than it used to be. and even through their sheer tights, they could read a few initials – b.c., s.c., and y.j.. well. shit.

"do soul marks... usually change?" justin murmured.

yn's area of expertise was not soul marks in any capacity, but it couldn't be a coincidence that the only three of their soulmates that they'd seen – and touched – were the ones who's initials they could read now. one? sure. two? weird, but okay. but three? yeah, something was definitely going on. yn hadn't heard of soul marks changing after interactions with soulmates, but then again, they also didn't know anyone else who'd had their marks fucked up, especially to the extent of their one. "uhm... not that I know of..."

"that's... weird."

"... yup."

"does it feel any different?"

"i would have noticed earlier if it did," yn replied.

"do you know why it's doing that?" justin asked curiously, leaning further over yn's desk to look closer at it.

"i... have an idea," yn said to their chagrin.

"cryptic."

"you're my student, you don't need to know about my love life," yn said. "i'm sure you have much more pressing matters to worry about. like... studying..."

"boo. that's boring," justin said, heaving a sigh and draping himself over the back of his chair.

"i feel i should remind you that you have a test next week," yn said flatly. "and while studying may be boring, it does help your results." yn left out that they had not been the most avid studier during their university years. do as i say and not as i do, right? justin didn't have to know.

not that he listened, continuing his impassioned rant about beaded fabric and other things, while yn silently had a mini crisis over the new development in the soulmate department.

"hi," yn mumbled, frowning down at the pan in front of them. they were... attempting to cook dinner, their phone set up against the back wall of their kitchen counter. but it was one of those days when they had to drag a chair into the room so they didn't have to stand up, so it wasn't a particularly nutritious meal. still better than not eating, though.

"hey." the audio from minji's end was... crackly. the connection in the gym she went to was shitty, to say the least. and she'd chosen to accept the video call while on the treadmill, which was a choice, for sure.

chika giggled quietly, and the half-drunk margherita that she held told yn she was at least a little tipsy. her location was unclear, but it was clear she'd found some room away from the main party where she wouldn't be disturbed for a while. "guess who I'm with," she hummed out in a sing-song voice, before turning the camera to bring her companion into frame.

yn, at this point, wasn't surprised at who it was. it was, in their mind, only logical – chika was at a versace event, so was hyunjin, and fate seemed to have it out for them recently, so why wouldn't it be him?

"we're hiding," chika whispered. "it's very loud. and there are too many people. i am quite overstimulated."

"hello," hyunjin said shyly, giving a small wave to the camera.

yn, for all the repressing of their feelings, still couldn't deny how cute he was. it was just one of those things. they suspected it had a little to do with the fact that he was their soulmate... but it was also just one of those things.

"so, what was the stuff in the group chat about your soul mark changing?" chika asked, a shit-eating grin spreading across her face, as if one of my soulmates wasn't unfortunately right beside her.

"shut the fuck- oh, my god, get your furry ass off my counter!" yn complained, getting up off their chair to grab bingus, who was making his daily escapade into the kitchen cabinets. honestly, they wouldn't really have a problem if it was the ones at ground level, but trying to haul the cat's fluffy body out of the top shelf of the higher cupboards every day was just... it took far too much effort. they sighed, walking back into frame, holding bingus like the little baby he was, slumping back down into their chair, breathing a little heavy. "he's such a pest."

"just grabbing your cat has you breathing like that? damn..." minji said with a slight laugh, the background noises of her running slowing down as she lowered the speed of the treadmill.

"yeah, well, health is wealth and I am dirt poor, if you catch my drift," yn said, scratching bingus behind the ears and kissing his little forehead.

hyunjin gasped from the other side of the camera, his eyes going wide. "you have a cat?"

yn chuckled, picking up their phone to hold the camera closer to their kitty. "he's called bingus. i woke up to him sitting on my face this morning."

hyunjin muttered something that the microphone didn't manage to pick up, but evidently chika found it absolutely hilarious in her drunken state. "he's so cute..."

bingus meowed gently at the camera, blinking his wide eyes innocently like he wasn't just trying to use yn's ramen stash as a cat bed, instead of literally any other surface in their apartment. he was a strange one. although, maybe that was just cats in general.

"that he may be, but he also made five escape attempts in the past hour and was sulking until about ten minutes ago because I wouldn't let him risk his life in seoul traffic," yn replied in exasperation.

minji sighed sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "you clearly don't love him then."

"yes, i hate my cat and want him to live an unfulfilling life. he reminds me of that often. maybe i shouldn't have trained him to come with me on my bike. i've given you a taste for danger, hm?" yn smiled down at bingus, kissing his cheek.

"you have a bike?" hyunjin asked.

"yeah," yn confirmed. it was pink, and had hello kitty detailing – what more could you want?

"they're objectively less safe, you know that, right?" minji said. it was a conversation they'd had many times, but it always ended the same.

"i never said it made sense," yn protested. "but, unfortunately, i don't have the luxury of being able to walk everywhere, i'm scared of cars, and me and public transport don't mix well because it's usually too busy to sit down, so... this is my solution."

"i think we should go back," chika said, finishing the conversation abruptly. "i think donatella has some attachment issues," she whispered, not that it was any quieter.

yn chuckled. "alright. see you in a few days."

minji's pout was practically radiating through the screen as she said her goodbyes, to no surprise. it wasn't just donatella versace who had attachment issues.

and so, yn was left alone with their thoughts again while they ate their noodles – and simultaneously tried to stop bingus eating them as well. hyunjin was... nice to talk with. not that they expected otherwise, but... a part of them wished he wasn't. it would have made it easier to reconcile staying away for so long.

< prev ☆ series masterlist ☆ next >

taglist (24/50): @sunfk88 @estella-novella @boo-ven9eance @0sunshinecryptid0 @idiotmaterial @tearsofgenshin @tirena1 @cowboylikemalika @d3kstar @heyheyitsmk @bangchansgirlsblog @geni-627 @4ng3l-ch1ld @vitaniangel-blog @beppybeesnuggets @yxna-bliss @imeverycliche @brbwritingfanfic @mavischerry @hanniemylovelyquokka @143hyunes @xindremz @wynn-43 @rtyuy1346

[fraugwinska]

Hey! Me again!

Could I get an Alastor x Female reader where she tells him she's pregnant, he's so stunned he thinks it a joke until she shows him the positive on the test and it shocks him to the core but after the initial shock he's overjoyed.

My dear jezebel <3 Thank you for being so patient! I took a few liberties from the ask, I really hope you don't mind! After a lot of rewrites and edits - I'm finally happy to share it with you! Thank you for the ask, my dearest! TW:Sickness&death-Light smut-Minors DNI-5.2k words

Autumn had always been your favorite season.

The most colorful of the four; from your bed you could always see various shades of red, orange, green and yellow, all mixed together to create a vibrant, warm impressionistic painting. Just looking at the bright shades outside had always made you smile.

There was also this peaceful ambiance around autumn that you could feel but not quite understand. Something so profound and yet ephemeral in a way.

"Should I close the window before I go?", Alice asked you, a sad smile on her face. Your favorite hospice nurse had spent her last shift before her holiday almost exclusively with you - somehow you both knew there wasn't much time left. The sickness that ate away at your body was unforgiving - you knew it was simply a matter of days now, and even that was generous. Alice must've sensed it, too.

"No, no.", you replied with a warm smile. "Leave it open. The night nurse can close it later."

Alice nodded, said her goodbyes and gave you a kiss on the head before exiting the room, carefully closing the heavy wooden door with a thud of painful finality. Breathing had become painful lately, but despite the sting you inhaled deeply, just to burn the smell of bristle leafs and warm wood into your memory. Right next to the memory of him.

Alastor.

Summoning him hadn't been easy, especially since you were bedridden and almost constantly monitored. Not only did you have to take special care of choosing the right night to be left unsupervised - you had to bribe Alice and make her believe it was her own idea to give you a few hours to be on your own, which you claimed to need desperately. The internet had been your biggest friend in the weeks before, preparing - you had used the time you had at your disposal to research on shady websites and occult forums who to summon, how to do the ritual and, in case he said no, which bargain to offer. And you chose Alastor.

It was the name that spoke to you the most - Unusual. Mature. Vintage. Mysterious. Powerful and yet gentle, in it's own way. 'Mans defender'. 'Avenger'. The more you read about him on dubious servers and obscure wiki's, the more you were sure it should be him. Still able to use your hands back then, in the chosen night you managed to follow all of the instructions perfectly, even while bound to your bed. When the living shadow appeared out of nowhere, twisting and contorting into the shape of a tall, handsome, dapper dressed demon, the tiny handheld radio you had in your hands slid from your weakened grip and your heart skipped a beat. As he stepped nearer, the perceived humanity of his appearance disappeared before your eyes - long, black fingers ending in red talons, small antlers sitting in between fluffy crimson-colored ears, razor-sharp teeth and blood-red irises shining with curiosity. He stopped just a foot away in front of your bed. As he began to talk, to introduce himself - as though being summoned by gravely sick human women were the norm - you stopped him with a raise of your hand, the action draining your already weakened body and mind.

"I know who you are. Alastor, the Radio Demon."

"My reputation precedes me, then!", he chimed, his voice pointed, melodic and so enchantingly and contradictorily full of life. His whole posture, his devious smile and the way his eyes glinted in the dim moonlight made it very clear that he was a dangerous creature, and yet, you felt strangely at ease.

"So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this summoning, my dear?"

You swallowed hard, knowing full well that if you wanted him to accept your deal, you needed to choose your words carefully.

"I... I am dying."

Alastor's grin twitched, but he said nothing, only tilted his head and waited for you to continue, hands folded behind his back.

"I've been sick my whole life, I...", you felt the need to explain, so that your offer wouldn't sound so... well, pitiful.

"Ever since I was born, I have been bound first to my crib, then to a bed, the hospital and now this hospice. I have never been allowed or even able to go to school, or make friends, or just... do things that children ought to do. Even though my life was always going to be short lived."

You could feel tears forming in your eyes, but blinked them away - you didn't want to cry in front of him, you felt pathetic as you were already. "I missed out on every milestone, every first experience a girl should have. First trip to a park, first day at school, first friend, first kiss, first... everything. And I'll miss out on so many more. I just want to have one normal thing, one 'first' before I die. One memory of a real and happy experience. Of something good."

"And what, pray tell, would that be?", he asked, a brow raised, his smile growing wider. He could probably hear the beating of your heart as you took a deep breath. This was it. Now or never.

"I want to lose my virginity."

The silence following your calmly stated confession was so thick that you could cut it with a knife. It took a while for Alastor to say something.

"Oh my, you really don't mince words, do you, darling?"

You shook your head.

"I have no time to waste. Every second counts."

"Believe me, little one, I'm quite... flattered that you'd go through the trouble of a summoning ritual for this... let's call it: venture. But... why me? Aren't there any men up here you would rather be with?"

"Have you looked at me?", you laughed bitterly. "I'm a sick, dying 20-something in a hospice bed. No man would ever so much as touch me. If I'd even get to meet anyone, since I can't get out of this bed anymore without a nurse. I have nothing to offer a partner anymore. No beauty, no future, not even money. I have only my soul. Please."

The last word came out as a whisper. Alastor's eyes glowed red in the growing darkness, his grin ever-present. He seemed to consider it for a moment, the sound of humming static the only sound in the room and you feared he might reject you.

"If I were to agree, would you truly be willing to pay the price for it? Your soul, darling, is a very precious thing. Do you know the implications of it's loss?"

You nodded.

"Yes. You can have it. It's not worth anything anyway."

Alastor stepped forward, his eyes locked with yours. He didn't sit down on the bed, instead he stood right beside you, bending over until his face was just inches from yours, the back of his hand lightly brushing your fringe out of your face. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, the scent of blood and something earthy, like wet soil or moss. He smelled like a forest in autumn.

"It is worth quite a bit, actually. More than you can imagine, I'd wager.", his voice was quiet, almost unfiltered and utterly beautiful. "But I can see you are dead set on it - Pardon the wordplay."

His sharp claw pressed into your skin, eliciting a gasp. He followed the curve of your cheek to your chin, lifting it to better access the side of your neck, just under your jaw. Your skin broke out in goosebumps because for the first time in your life, you felt a touch that was not clinical, not meant to treat you or wastefully bide you more time. This touch was gentle and purposeful. Sensual, maybe. A soft sigh escaped you against your will.

Alastor let out a hum that was not entirely unhappy, before bringing his face dangerously close to yours. You could feel the ends of his fluffy hair tickling your face, the tip of his nose lightly brushing against your skin.

"A happy memory, you say. One satisfying experience in return for your soul. I am certainly not usually known for my kindness, dear.", he muttered against the skin of your cheek, before turning towards your lips. So close. Your heart was beating as loud and as fast as it could, making you dizzy. "But I think we have ourselves a deal."

The golden hour has passed, turning bright orange light into fading blue to black. And the air was turning colder. The memory of that night was the only thing you thought about as you slowly felt death approaching.

The way his lips felt against your mouth, his tongue and the sweet taste he left on your lips that still lingered whenever you ran yours across them, recalling the sensation just once more. He had been gentle, patient, always asking and never assuming or forceful. He made sure you were comfortable before exploring you, careful in the places he touched, mindful in tasting you, praising you for the sounds you made. He allowed you to do your share of exploring, too, and although he wasn't human you found his body still wonderfully, beautifully male, no matter his thin, soft taupe fur and his many, shimmering scars. The memory of the moment when he had finally filled you, tender and slow, was as much sweet pain as it was blissful pleasure, and you found solace in his warmth and the steady, rhythmic pace of him moving inside you as you spilled his name, over and over again until he spent himself inside you, bodies deeply connected. It was hard for you to believe that all of it had been actually true, and not just one big fever dream your dying mind had cooked up to send you off gently when Alice woke you from your sleep later that night, wondering aloud why you didn't turn off the little, handheld radio on the floor that was still playing soft jazz music.

But the little, red and blue marks on your collarbones and the one red-and-black strand of hair you had found on your pillow were telltale signs that everything had been indeed real, and you made sure every detail was etched into your heart, into your body and into your skin. It was, and would remain forever, the happiest moment of your entire life.

'I hope my soul is worth enough...' you thought as the coldness finally embraced you, tears running freely down your cheeks now, but the smile on your face was wide and warm, and the last thing you heard before falling into your final sleep was the gentle hum of a breeze that brought in the smell of earth and rain and leaves.

Alastor had no need for sleep. He usually didn't spend his nights sitting in his favorite chair, motionless, listening to music. He was far too busy, too full of life and plans and energy to sit around and just wait for morning. And yet, there he was, sitting and brooding for the last month, every night, his ears tuned in on the low, static-y noise coming from the old-fashioned radio he was holding. A radio eerily similar to hers.

'How did it come to this?', he wondered for the thousandth time, like a broken record. 'Why did I do it?'

He couldn't fathom the reason for his actions that night, why he had given in to the strange, frivolous request of the frail young woman. Why he had agreed to take her virginity, of all things, in exchange for her soul. Granted, she wasn't the first to offer him that, not by far. But usually, the soul was the last thing a sinner offered, after a great many things of lesser value had been already offered and declined in return. It was, in essence, the most desperate measure, taken only by those who had nothing else to lose.

And yet, she had promised him her soul in the very beginning, treating it not as a valuable bargaining chip, but as an expendable object. A thing without use or worth. He didn't know what had intrigued him so much that night. She had been sickly and fragile, her skin almost translucent in the pale light, and yet there was a spark in her eye. Determination, maybe. Her voice had been strong, if quiet, and her smile, although sad, was still familiarly bright. The way she spoke and her body language had made it clear that she had been not as much afraid of him, despite her frail and vulnerable position, as she had been anxious about his response. She was clearly clever and resolute, despite her lack of personal experience. Otherwise, she wouldn't have been able to follow through the summoning ritual.

"I have nothing to offer a partner anymore. No beauty, no future, no money. O only have my soul. Please."

He couldn't remember a single instance where someone had begged him with the simple word please and he gave into it. And yet, he had accepted her plea - The whole of her soul, in exchange for a meager, single moment of ridiculous passion. The mere thought had repulsed him before: Body on body, blunt thumps of fleshes, debauched obscenities... it was something that had never held his interest. He felt like it was something unrefined and animalistic, something he had always regarded as unnecessary and obsolete. Until then.

Her body had responded so eagerly, so sensitive, so ready to his touches. It had been clear she hadn't lied about her virginity, and yet her eagerness, her fearlessness had surprised him. Acting solely based on instinct and the morals he was brought up with, no real experience of his own himself, he had tried to be as careful and gentle as he could, and somehow, her inexperience had made it... easier. She was not expecting anything in terms of skill, and thus he had to guide her through the process, allowing him to set the pace and giving him ample time to react to her reactions. Sweet gasps, subtle tremors, faint flushes - all of which had told him how she had felt, what had been pleasurable and what had been uncomfortable. He had been able to take his time and make sure she enjoyed herself. It had been fascinating and even... pleasurable for him, too.

Despite the obvious pain, she had kept her eyes open, watching his face intently as they connected. He had felt the warmth and the tension around him, and her little, breathy gasps had been such pleasant sounds that when she had finally found her release, it had triggered his own, foreign as it had been. She had sighed his name in pure bliss, and in that moment he had felt as powerful and as satisfied as the night he had gained his title as Radio Demon.

And when the deed had been done, the girl had smiled so serenely, he was sure he had rarely ever seen anything that could rival her in beauty.

Alastor shifted uncomfortably at that thought, trying to will away the memory and the sensation that the mere thought of her smile invoked.

It had taken a few minutes, but eventually he had collected himself and put his clothes back on. Her eyes had followed him, the spark back in them and even brighter than before, her smile not faltering even when her tired lids had drooped down, slowly lulling her to sleep. Alastor had stood there, in the small, plain hospice room, watching her for a while, a strange feeling in his chest. The deal hadn't been solidified by a handshake, her soul not yet firmly bound to him and the contract void if not officially sealed, but he couldn't bring himself to wake her. Something had stopped him.

The memory of her face, pale and beautiful, smiling so peacefully even in her slumber, made the corners of his lips twitch. She would've made a magnificent addition to his collection of souls. And yet, and yet... He had decided then and there that her soul would find its way to him, eventually. But not through the proposed deal. So, he had left, the exchange unfulfilled, the pact broken, turning on the small radio she had let slip onto the floor just as he heard her caretaker returning to check on her.

'Oh, how the mighty have fallen.', he mused bitterly, a small laugh escaping his lips.

"Alastor?"

Charlie's voice was a mix of concern and curiosity, muffled by the thick, wooden door of his room. She sounded worried, probably wondering why he had excused himself from the hotel's interactions more and more for the past weeks. He was about to ignore her, not in the mood to talk to anyone, especially not her, persistent thing that she was, but when her soft knock followed her call, his smile widened tightly and his eyes flashed red.

"Charlie, dear, I'm afraid I'm not available at the moment.", he called out, his tone a bit sharper than usual.

"Sorry, but...", the princess sounded hesitant, and he could hear her shuffle awkwardly outside. "It's just... There is someone in the lobby, wanting to speak to you. It seems... important."

He got up from his chair with an annoyed sigh and switched off the radio, straightened his clothes and smoothed out his hair and bow tie with one swipe. Whatever business matter was brought forward, Alastor didn't feel like discussing it. The smile he wore was razor sharp and dark, a result of his annoyance and brooding mood, and yet he couldn't bring himself to feign his cheery personality just quite yet. Maybe this mystery visitor would be a suitable punching bag to let off some of that steam.

When Alastor finally opened the door and walked down to the lobby next to a flustered looking Charlie, his breath hitched involuntarily and he froze mid-stride. Charlie stumbled at the sudden lack of motion next to her, the deafening static sound and the chime-like tuning of a radio startling her so much she flinched away from him.

"H-Hey Al!?", she called in shock, "Are you okay?"

He didn't move, didn't even react - his attention was solely focused on the figure standing at the front-desk, who, just a moment ago, had talked to Husker before turning around upon hearing him.

Hell kept her skin white and almost translucent in it's spite, but granted her soft, shimmering silvery fur in it's mercy. Her frame wasn't thin and frail anymore, she looked plush and healthy, soft curves where there had been nothing more than skin and bone before. Keeping almost all of her human features intact, the small, round ears protruding from her hair, the pink-tipped nose and the long and slender tail were definitely characteristics of a dormouse, their ends almost silver and soft-looking. Her eyes were of the same gentle color that he remembered, and when her lips spread into a sad, tender smile his breath was stolen away completely.

It was the same smile. The very one he hadn't been able to purge from his mind, and most likely never would.

"Alastor."

The sound of her voice, quiet and melodic as it had been weeks before, felt like an invisible touch that pulled the air out of him. Not enough to suffocate him, but he was still reeling none the less.

"So you finally succumbed, it seems..."

His usual bravado was absent, his voice lacked it's sharp, jovial tone, sounding more like he was actually talking. Charlie could do little more but watch with widened eyes, seemingly unable to fathom the scene right in front of her.

"What are you talking about, Alastor? How do you know...", the princess spoke carefully and uncertain, her eyes wandering from one demon to another, but she was quickly interrupted, not by him, but by...

"It's a long story better told another time, Miss Charlie.", she said with a genuine smile on her face, still not able to take her eyes off Alastor. She took a few tentative steps towards him, careful, but certain in her movement, a confidence about her that hadn't been there before. Her head tilted in an enigmatic way and she spoke again, this time solely directed at him.

"I'm truly sorry to impose. But I was hoping we could talk... privately."

Alastor nodded mutely, not able to think clearly, before taking a deep breath and straightening his back to tower over her once again. Husk seemed to notice his shift in composure, raising a brow when he passed him by on his way back behind the bar, noticing the strangely satisfied looking smile on Alastor's face that was as unnerving and frightening as always, but with a different tint that even Husk must've trouble placing guessing by the suspicious look that fell over the cat's face.

"Of course, my dear, my office will suffice. If you'll excuse us, Charlotte? We'll be only a short while."

He didn't wait for her response but took his guest by her arm and guided her past an astonished Husk and clearly confused Charlie, leading the girl down the hall and to his office, the air between them thick with something undefinable, and neither of them dared to speak until the heavy mahogany door fell shut, effectively cutting off all outside interference.

Her cheeks were flushed when she stepped closer towards him. The tips of his claws brushed against her fringe, following the curve of her soft ear, across the back of her delicate neck to pluck a strand of her hair, pulling it towards him and running the silky fiber between two fingers and over the pad of his thumb, bringing it to his lips with a deep, pleased inhale.

She looked up at him, her smile shy but hopeful.

"You remember me.", she said with a chuckle, her voice a bit higher, her ears twitching and her tail swaying behind her, showing her emotions all too easily. Alastor nodded, not letting go of her hair just yet.

"How could I not, dear. It's not common for me to leave a contract unsettled, you know."

"I had a feeling that might've been the case, since it took me so long to find you.", she said quietly. "So, my soul..."

"... is still yours, yes."

She wasn't looking at him, directly. Her gaze went over his suit, to his hands and cane, then back to the floor.

"Why?", she asked, a hint of confusion and hurt in her voice, her silken hair slipping from his fingers.

"Why didn't you claim it? You had every right, after all. I offered, you agreed and..."

Alastor didn't speak, couldn't speak. The answer was right on the tip of his tongue, and yet he wasn't sure if he wanted to share it. It felt... strange, and foreign, and not quite comfortable. But it was undeniably true, now - with her in front of him - clearer than any time in the last weeks in his chair, each night, in front of the fireplace.

He wanted her. Not just her soul. Her. So, he settled on silence and a half-truth, instead.

"It wasn't the right time, dear."

Her face turned to him, her eyes searching his. He felt exposed, like her eyes were piercing him.

"And now...?"

"That remains to be seen. Why are you here?", he countered, stepping back to put a more comfortable distance between them.

"I came to see you, because..." She swallowed hard, and Alastor watched her throat, the soft swell of her breasts under her modest blouse, the slight rise of her belly. "When I arrived in hell, I felt... weird. I thought it was because of all the changes, this new body and... generally being here. But it didn't go away, this.... feeling. I made friends with a lovely imp couple, they took me in after I fell. The wife, Millie, took me to a doctor because she got worried when I couldn't stop throwing up..."

Her face grew hot, a flush spreading across her cheeks, her ears folding back against her head.

"Alastor, I'm pregnant."

A loud bang rang through the hallway as Alastor dropped his cane and a deafening feedback noise filled the room. For the first time in what must have been decades, his face betrayed him completely, the smile ripping at the sewn edges as it dropped violently. He felt dizzy and his head was spinning.

"Impossible.", he breathed, the word almost getting stuck in his throat. The very notion was ridiculous, unheard of - clearly that must be a crude joke. Alastor started to laugh, though sounding not as amused and booming as he would've hoped, but more hysterical than anything else.

She stayed silent, looking at him with sad, but serious and almost pleading eyes as the truthfulness of her confession began to sink in and his laughter slowly died. He took a tentative step forward, a million questions running through his head, the sheer amount overwhelming his usually so precise mind.

"So, a month ago, it...", he stopped, feeling the corners of his mouth pull wider.

"...yes. The doctor told me there are only a handful similar cases like this known since hell was created... The circumstances are 'too specific' and it normally takes a vast amount of intimate interactions' between a hellbound sinner and a living, fertile human he said... Seems like you knocked me up with one round, buster." She wrung her hands, her smile forced and unsure. "Listen, Alastor... I know it sounds impossible. I mean, I couldn't believe it at first when he told me so I understand you can't, too... but I don't expect anything, I really don't. I just... I wanted to see you again, and-and you deserve to know, and..."

"Darling, hush.", Alastor interrupted, a sense of clarity taking hold of his chaotic mind. He had never felt a desire for a family, not in his lifetime nor in his death. Partners were liabilities and a distraction, relationships nuisances if they strayed beyond the borders of business or at the very most friendly aquaintances. He had no need for things like these in the past, looking down on people desperate to seek out partners, claiming to be lonely when in truth they were just weak or simply starving for a touch of the 'opposite sex' to make up for their own inadequacy.

Now, faced with the reality of fatherhood in a matter of minutes and the prospect of his life being bound to another - one who, undoubtedly, bore his child, no less - Alastor would be lying if he had claimed a part of him didn't absolutely reel at the prospect. A responsibility greater than his own had just fallen into his lap - a vulnerability he never asked for and certainly didn't expect.

But.

A part of him would come into the world, no matter whether it would look human, or demonic like him, or whatever strange combination of them both: This child would be proof of him. Him, not anyone else. There would be a person dependent on him for guidance and protection, a legacy he would be allowed to leave, a lineage that could one day claim that he, Alastor, had been the founding cause. His legacy. His blood and his seed had created another being against all rules and logic, an offspring, maybe a girl, maybe it would resemble him, or her, or even... his mother.

Despite the incredulity and the sheer panic the revelation brought, the longer he looked at the tiny dormouse in front of him, the more he realized how similar her traits were to his own mother's. Soft, but determined. Sad, but brave. Young but aged.

No, this hadn't been just some fleeting fling - Alastor had to believe in fate, given what she told him. There had been a reason why he didn't seal the deal that night. Why he had agreed to her request so easily. The more Alastor thought about the potential of a shared offspring, along with a loyal partner on his side, about the what-ifs and could-bes, the more appealing and pleasant the future appeared. She was carrying a being he created, one that had his essence – All the more stronger his grin widened, stretching so far it caused his cheeks to ache, but his blooming glee knew no bounds. He saw, to his own surprise, not a weakness or vulnerability.

But his greatest achievement.

With a laugh, this time sincere and booming and loud instead of hysterical, he picked her up on her waist, knocking the air out of her in a gasp, and swung her around several times.

"O-oh! Oh my goodness!", she stuttered, eyes wide and brows furrowed. "Alastor, calm down!"

"Oh, no no no, I simply can't! Dear, do you have any idea what a marvel you have wrought!?", he exclaimed in delight, setting her back down and bringing both hands up to her cheeks. "We've created a magnificent abomination!"

Her head shook as she chuckled, still nervous but with an edge of relief in her voice. "That's certainly one way of saying it. But... are... are you saying that... you are okay with it? That you..."

"What, dear?", he cooed, her big eyes shining hopefully as her ears twitched curiously. His chest swelled with affection, and he gently squeezed her cheeks between his hands.

"Does a daddy on your side scare you, darling?"

"N-No-oh."

The title invoked a peculiar reaction, and he made a mental note to use it again soon enough, as her cheeks flushed in a dusty rose. Alastor felt an unfamiliar and somehow primal pleasure at the sight of it, a surge of happiness in his chest, the warmth of it nearly too much. He pulled her face against his, smothering her with a kiss. He wasn't familiar with such embraces, but she felt like she was specifically molded to fit perfectly into him, her ears flicking with every beat of her racing heart.

There were tears welling in her beautiful eyes, and as he kissed her cheeks and brushed them away with his thumbs. Oh yes, Alastor was filled with a new kind of giddy excitement.

"Come on, dear, let's not waste time to spread the good news!", he exclaimed, unable to reign his euphoric mood, and before she could comment on his actions, he reached out and lifted her over his shoulder in one fluid movement, ignoring her startled squawk. The look of utter bewilderment on her face almost made him break out into more laughter, but he was already out the door, ready to take his child's mother, who was, without a doubt in his mind, bound to him forever with a force much stronger than any deal he could've made, downstairs to tell the news to his fellow friends, who would have no choice but to learn what a truly dangerous deal looked like.

[dclovesdanny]

Hii! I'm the one who asked about the dead serious soulmate AU prompt and I was talking about your latest posts of it where the ending is that jazz gave Damian a notebook(Danny's) to Damian which was filled with Robin pictures and notes, and yeah. Anyways, I looked through your dead serious prompts and saw this one prompt but it doesn't have a continuation, at least as far as I know.

https://www.tumblr.com/dclovesdanny/744946841060294656/dc-x-dp-prompt-dead-serious-prompt-14-damian-and?source=share

Really love the concept of it as well as this one!

https://www.tumblr.com/dclovesdanny/743789718574120960/this-would-work-so-well-with-any-dcxdp-ship-but-i?source=share

Anyways! Hope you post more dead serious ship prompts and other ships as well, I really like your posts!!

Thank you so much for the compliments! I’m going to expand more on the second one, even though some other people expanded on it, mostly focusing on time travel and how it would affect it.(I would recommend reading those reblogs, they are amazing!)

This is probably going to be part one of my first connected series. What should I call it?

Damian’s first fact from his soulmate appeared during his first few weeks with his father. Damian had awoken with the words on his arm, and immediately taken stock of what he could deduce from the messy handwriting.

I love the stars

The first thing he learned was that his soulmate was born on February 11th late at night or 12th early in the morning, and was currently ten years old. His soulmate had to have been born early in the morning, and next year he would have to stay awake all night to determine exactly when his soulmate was born.

Secondly, his soulmate’s first language is English. That pointed towards his soulmate being born in the United States, Australia, or England. Of course, his soulmate could be raised by immigrant parents, but that is less likely.

Third, his soulmate had messy but readable handwriting, indicating his soulmate was learned at the least, and further pointing towards the states, as it was required for American children to go to school.

Fourth, his soulmate loves the stars. He would have to have Father fund the Gotham Observatory, and research more about light pollution. Perhaps he could even take his soulmate to Nanda Parbat, where the stars are not affected by light pollution.

He could hear his father’s voice downstairs, and his father’s band of strays were starting to wake. He had spent almost an hour focusing on his soulmate without even realizing it. He gets out of bed, and after a moment of hesitation, he covers the fact before going downstairs. While he would never be ashamed of his soulmate and fight anyone who dared to breathe otherwise, he wanted to keep his soulmate to himself, if only for awhile.

————————————————————————

Danny woke up in an instant, for once waking without his alarm or his sister doing it. The minute he remembered the date, he yanked his sleeve aside to stare down at his soulmate’s fact. He really hoped he was the younger one. He stared down in confusion

أنا نباتي

After almost 15 minutes of googling frantically, he finally figured out that his soulmate’s fact translated to I’m a vegetarian. He also learned his soulmate’s first language was Arabic. Wait, did his soulmate even know English? Damn, if they didn’t this would suck.

Resolving to try and learn some phrases in Arabic, he looked at the clock and swore. It was almost time for him to leave for school, and he could hear his sister coming towards his room. He quickly changed into a NASA shirt and pants and grabbed his things. He couldn’t wait to tell Tucker!

[hangesdarling]

birthday — h. zoë

PAIRING. Hange Zoë x fem!reader SYNOPSIS. You want your spouse's late-night birthday celebration to be special for both of you. CONTENT. Modern AU chemist Hange, suggestive themes, soft sex, not explicitly described, just flufffff WORD COUNT. 1.3k words A/N. Thinking about Hange in their late 40s is doing things to me. ANYWAY HAPPY B-DAY TO MY BELOVED

It was a cold and rainy September 5th morning when Hange thought of you out of the blue. An invading yet comforting thought amidst their research papers. They shook their head and blinked, pinching their nose to get back in focus but could find themselves smiling. It was ridiculous missing you suddenly when you spent 15 years of your marriage snuggled to their chest every night. It had been that long already, Hange thought, sighing as they left their chair to stare out of the window.

Last September 5th wasn't so rainy. Hange remembered a mellow sky, clouds tinged with sand orange as you pulled them into a lovely cake shop to get them a cake for their birthday. Hange loved the memory with you, it was quiet, there was champagne, and they were kissing you. Hange wondered what you're doing at home right now. They never got to ask since they left home early today and you were still sound asleep. 

Today, it was almost 5 PM and Hange hadn't checked their phone in hours, too immersed in their work. They pulled their eyes from the drizzle outside and checked their phone. There was one message along with an attachment from you. It said to come home early, coupled with pink hearts. When Hange clicked the picture from you, their composure almost popped off in several places. 

Hange stared at the photo, cheeks heated before a grin appeared on their face. They slid the phone back into their pocket and checked their watch. This is about the only time they'll use their privilege as the head researcher of their lab just to come home early. Whatever you're up to, Hange knows they should be at home in a minute. 

-

Hange expected the double deck cake topped with cherries, the inviting dinner, the red wine you both love and that sweet perfume you always wear on occasion. They hugged you from behind, head craning against your neck, buried in the matching scent of your lotion. You smiled, leaning them closer to you. However, as Hange's hand wandered further to your thin robe, they felt the familiar lace underneath and smiled more to themself. 

"So this is what you wanna show me after all, hm?" they whispered, nipping at your ear. 

"I just wanna do something for your birthday, hon," you faced them and wrapped your arms more comfortably around them. You lingered seconds longer to feel their warmth, their chest. "I missed you all morning."

"Silly because I did too," Hange mumbled back. They lifted their head a little. 

You smiled, "Let's eat dinner."

"My love?" 

"Hm?" 

Hange gripped your waist, placing you on the countertop in one swift motion which made you yelp. 

"Hange!" 

Hange kissed your blushing face, wrapping your legs around their waist. 

"Baby," Hange faced you, hands on the side of your thighs. "Will it upset you if I told you I can't bother with the food right now?" 

You pouted, "But I cooked your favorite."

"Tempting, but I have something else in mind right now," they smiled, loosening the ribbon of your robe, revealing the lingerie you're wearing underneath. 

"I don't remember the last time you wore this," Hange shook their head lightly and looked at you. "You said you felt silly wearing them now that we're older."

"But I know you'd like to see them again." You looked away, lips curled shyly. "Or so I hope."

"I always love them on you," Hange's voice grew more affectionate. Seeing your beautiful face, half glowed by the candlelight in a partially dark room, Hange remembered when you were both younger. You never lost the loving gaze or the bright smile that made their heart flutter the first time they sat beside you at work. Of how your love shone through even at the darkest days in the 20 years they knew you, and the 15 years of it as their wife. 

Hange wrapped their arms around you, more comfortably, holding you in a pure gesture of love and affection. They'll always come home to you, no place can ever be home without you. Nothing can offer this much boundless love or care. Even for days or weeks when they had to be away for work, even at nights when they're too exhausted to be present for you. Even when the intimacy between you wasn't as often lately because of their paperwork. You had nothing but patience and love. 

"I thought we lost that spark somehow," they admitted, pulling back to gaze softly at you. "We're not getting younger, we have less time than we often have."

You let them speak, your hand stroking their hair back as you listened. Their eyes were soft and beautiful as they always were, the faint stress lines under them were the only few signs that they had aged. 

"Turns out I just need some break," they chuckled. "It feels nice coming home early. Especially when I can have you like this."

Hange didn't want to waste the hours left on their special day. Despite your protests, they carried you to the bedroom like they always used to do. 

"We didn't even bother cleaning up the kitchen," you said between a kiss. Hange discarded your robe on a nearby chair and kissed you again, deepening it this time. 

"We can do that in the morning, or later when I wake up in the middle of the night," they said. "I extinguished the candles so don't worry about anything, okay?" 

You hummed, helping them out of their sleeve shirt. "Happy birthday, love."

"Thank you, baby."

Hange had missed the sensual touches from your hands, and their own hands kneading the softness of your breasts and thighs. They underestimated their arousal and desire for you as Hange was losing it just from your slow grinding on their thigh. Hange was fervent with desire, their kisses growing rough, their hands almost tearing the thin laces from your body. 

"I love you," they often whisper, their every kiss worships you, an old desire that never grew stale.

They missed your taste, the way you hold onto them during orgasm, the way your mouth parts and body slacken when you're riding out your high. And even in your exhausted state, you insist on giving the same release as many times as they wish. You trust them every part of you, whatever they need to get that certain level of pleasure from you. 

By the end of it, Hange slowly felt the exhaustion, their body sore in several places in ways they won't complain about. Your back was on their chests, your breasts gathered in their arms as they hugged you. You talked about the forgotten dinner, their last birthday, your last anniversary, and even what you'd do tomorrow despite knowing you're too exhausted to do so and just end up drinking tea together in the living room. 

You were being lulled to sleep, on the brink of it before the memory of your gift came back to you. Your hands felt for the box under your pillow and showed it to Hange. 

"What's this?" they muttered sleepily as they took the box.

"Open it, love."

Hange opened it with one hand, not wanting to let you go with the other until a necklace fell out. They picked it up and smiled as they saw the gray pearl tinged with blue. 

"I remembered this," they said. "On our last vacation at the beach."

"And our reservation got messed up a bit so we stayed outside for longer and I found that pearl," you added, smiling at the memory. "It was nothing special, I just thought the color would complement your work shirt."

"It was lovely," Hange kissed your cheek. "I love you."

"I love you too."

It was the same love even before they admitted their love, the same love 15 years ago, last week, and yesterday. Hange didn't doubt it would change no matter how many of their birthdays come.  

likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated, sweethearts <3

[cozmowrites]

White Day (2025)

(i missed white day.... which was March 14th)

The kitchen was a mess.

Bowls stacked in the sink, chocolate smeared on the counter, and the faint scent of spice lingered in the air. You wiped your forehead with the back of your hand, exhaling as you stared down at your masterpiece—spicy chocolates, made just for Bakugou.

White Day was tomorrow, and you'd spent hours researching the perfect recipe. Bakugou hated sweets, so giving him regular chocolates would have been pointless. But then you found it—spicy chocolate. The perfect balance of rich cocoa and heat, just enough to excite his taste buds without overwhelming them.

It had taken you three failed batches to get it right. Too bitter, too spicy, not spicy enough—it was a frustrating process, but now, as you stared at the neatly packed chocolates in their little box, you knew it was worth it.

Now... you just had to give it to him.

+++

Morning came too fast, and your stomach churned the entire way to school. The little box sat in your bag, taunting you. You knew Bakugou wouldn't outright reject it—he wasn't that much of a jerk—but giving him something so handmade, something that took so much effort, made your heart feel like it was about to combust.

The first opportunity came before class. Bakugou was standing near his desk, chatting with Kirishima. You walked up, gripping the box tightly in your hands, but before you could speak—

"Yo, Bakugou, let's grab breakfast before homeroom starts," Kirishima said.

"Tch, fine." Bakugou turned, completely missing you standing there.

You deflated, shoulders sagging as they walked away.

+++

Attempt two came at lunch. You psyched yourself up the entire period, watching as Bakugou sat alone at the end of the table, eating his food.

Okay, just walk up and give it to him.

Easy, right?

You swallowed hard and stood up, gripping the chocolate box like a lifeline. But as soon as you took a step forward—

"Oi! Dumb hair, sit your ass down! You're blocking the view of my show!"

Denki had accidentally stood in front of the cafeteria TV, and now Bakugou was too busy yelling at him to notice you.

You hesitated, debating if you should still try, but then Bakugou turned to Todoroki, launching into an argument about spicy food and how "half-n-half bastard wouldn't last a second eating real heat."

Nope. Not happening now. You backed away quickly.

+++

By the time classes were over, your nerves were shot. You needed to do this. If you waited any longer, you'd just talk yourself out of it.

Bakugou was at his locker, shoving books into his bag. He looked... calm. A little tired, even. It was probably the best time you'd get all day.

You gripped the chocolate box and took a deep breath. You can do this.

You stepped forward. "Uh, B-Bakugou?"

He turned, eyes flicking to you. "What?"

Your throat went dry.

He was staring right at you, sharp crimson eyes locked onto yours, and suddenly every ounce of confidence you had evaporated.

"I, uh—um, here!" You shoved the box forward so fast it nearly hit him in the chest.

Bakugou blinked, looking down at the box before taking it from your hands. "The hell is this?"

Your fingers twisted in your sleeves. "I-it's for you. I made them. Um. S-spicy chocolate. Since you don't like sweets, I thought—um—"

"You made these?"

You nodded quickly, heart pounding.

Bakugou stared at the box for a long moment. Then, with a scoff, he ripped off the lid and popped one into his mouth without hesitation.

Your breath caught as he chewed.

Then—he smirked. "Hah. Not bad."

Relief flooded through you so fast you nearly melted into the floor.

Bakugou tilted the box, inspecting them. "You really made these?"

"Y-yeah."

He hummed, popping another one into his mouth. "Tch. Took you long enough to give 'em to me. I saw you hovering around like a dumbass all day."

Your face burned. "Y-you saw?!"

He snorted. "Yeah. Thought you were gonna chicken out." He shut the box and tucked it into his bag before glancing at you. "Thanks."

Your breath hitched.

Not a teasing thanks. Not a sarcastic one.

Just a simple, genuine thanks.

You felt your heart swell, and before you could stop yourself, you smiled. "You're welcome."

Bakugou clicked his tongue, looking away, but you swore you saw the corner of his mouth twitch upward. "Oi. Bring me more next time. And make 'em spicier."

You laughed, nerves finally settling. "Okay."

+++

masterlist ⟢

more bakugou ⟢

requests ツ

[wolveswithhats]

We've talked at length about Kaz Brekker: Hot or Not, now let's talk about how Dirtyhands Does Himself Dirty, aka Kaz is driving his absolute beater of a body into the ground because he has no sense of personal wellness.

Welcome! and thanks for sitting in on my powerpoint presentation, there's a bottle of water under your seat and this complimentary crap art of the creature himself to get us started.

Disclaimer that I have no experience with using a cane, or being a teenage boy, or being a teenage boy that uses a cane, so take this all with a grain of salt.

SO. Cane height:

too tall and you're over-elevating your arm and shoulder and not able to fully support your weight, which is kind of the point?

too short and you need to hunch forward, straining your back

either or has negative bearing on your balance, posture, and gait, and will lead to pain even outside of the original injury site

Important to note because Kaz is def not getting properly sized for a cane right??

that's way too much of an admission of vulnerability and weakness, absolutely unacceptable

it's 1880-whatever fantasy Netherlands and WebMD doesn't exist for him to research the nuances of proper cane use himself, when will the Grisha invent the internet

stealing textbooks from the university is the period-appropriate (and Kaz-endorsed) option, but he has to be mobile for that, and is unlikely to ask someone to do that for him (see above: vulnerability)

it's been three years and growth spurts are a thing but Kaz asking for help is not (see above: weakness), so it's probable he's too tall for it now at 17 anyway

While super cool and iconic, a crow's head handle is unlikely to be particularly ergonomic, potentially leading to issues in his hand/wrist:

nerve compression

tendinitis

carpal tunnel

(Something probably to be said about the negative effects of an extra heavy weighted cane as well since it's as much a weapon as it is a mobility aid, but I'm not going down yet another research hole, I've already spent way too much time on this. Just keep it as a consideration in this running tally of Kaz's myriad of cane-related issues)

Contrary to the reputation he's trying to build for himself, Kaz is a human with human needs. On the daily, as a growing lad he should be

sleeping 8-10 hours

eating 2000+ calories

getting 30-60 min of physical activity

In actuality, Kaz is

absolutely not doing that, he will sleep when he's dead

surviving almost entirely off of a diet of coffee and spite

further aggravating his leg by hobbling up and down three rickety flights of stairs several times a day

engaging in the major league sport of cracking skulls with his cane. (that's some form of exercise maybe I guess??)

really bad at being anything approaching a healthy teenage boy (they eat! so, so much. please, someone Feed Him)

Additionally, while poking around, I found some overlap between the symptoms of the Queen's Lady Plague and smallpox, notably that one of the early stages of smallpox are sores that start in the mouth and throat and become pustulous, ie: Kaz's raspy, damaged voice. I don't think it's smallpox proper (the pitted scarring is so disfiguring that it would be all over his face and body, and immediately identifiable if he had it), it's probably a less aggressive but still very fatal strain of something adjacent in the pox family. Regardless tho, I'm cribbing one of the potential smallpox complications to contribute to my "Kaz is the Saddest, Wettest Dog" thesis: 

arthritis 🙃

I did check as well to see if any of the poxes could permanently weaken the immune system, and it wouldn't seem so; if you live, you bounce back. But that's ok because Kaz is already doing the footwork of taking a wrecking ball to his immune system just fine on his own:

poor nutrition ✔

lack of sleep ✔

stress ✔

Mmm, you are just crushing it, brother.

So I'm not trying to pitch any of this as fact, or throw hands with Leigh Bardugo in the parking lot of a Denny's for having Inej ogle over his ghostly white abs. If you are writing about his broad shoulders and good, good arms, all the more power to you! Maybe he's lifting dumbbells in his office to work that upper bod, no one can tell you he's not. I'm just saying that if you are more for the idea that he is an absolute wet paperbag of a boy (scrawny! sickly! in constant pain! arthritic?? likely to burst into flames if put into direct sunlight!!), there is more than enough to run with to support that argument.

[writteninthesewalls28]

Racing Psychology - Part Three

Summary: Josie comes to Lando's race in Miami and the tension between them becomes undeniable.

Warnings: not proof read, passionate kissing, curse words, I don't know anything about racing, please don't take it personal if something is not described how it actually is in real life (Remember: this is pure fiction)

Part one Part two

Lando held his promise and had sent me a VIP ticket with which I would not only have an exceptional view of the entire race track and especially the pit stops, but I could also witness the exclusive backstage interviews after the race. 

When I would finally meet him again, I definitely had to thank him for arranging this ticket for me so last minute. I don’t even want to know how much money such a ticket would cost if someone buys it without knowing any of the drivers personally. 

But when I stood in the VIP stands and looked around, I could already answer that question myself. The only people sitting and standing, some of them not even slightly interested in the race right in front of them, were wearing the most expensive brands you could think of: Gucci, Louis Vittons and however the list goes on. Everything in the room only screamed money and wealth and as much as I felt uncomfortable and not welcomed here with my normal jeans and shirt, the excitement of getting to meet Lando again even made me forget about the elite crowd that I found myself in at the moment. 

Because I simply knew nothing about Formula 1, I had spent my Saturday evening researching the procedure of a regular Grand Prix and had read several articles about racing terms and when what takes place. 

My brain was still a bit overwhelmed with all the new information I had gained in the course of just 3 hours, but at the thought of simply standing here and having absolutely no idea of what was going on in front of me, made me shiver. 

But standing here now, I realised that my insecurities were totally unfounded. For most of the people in the VIP area, this event was a chance to show off the expensive dresses and watches and eat exclusive food like caviare and the main race was something that came second or wasn’t even interesting at all. Seeing this type of wealth with my own eyes, it made me feel unwanted and somewhat less important even though it was just a number on a bank account and a better ecological footprint that made me different from these people. I tried shutting these thoughts off, especially when my brain tried telling me that Lando is one of them and has a higher salary than I will ever have once I finished my studies and work as a psychologist. 

This had no impact on me liking him or vice versa, so I should not think about it and instead enjoy the cars passing me with 315 km/h so that you could barely see who was in front and who chased a driver ahead of him.

Thanks to the commentary through the speakers and a big scoreboard at all corners of the room, I could see that Max and Lando were constantly fighting over P1 and changed positions constantly. 

Right now, Lando was the one leading the race. “Norris overtakes Verstappen!” the commentator shouts over the speaker above me. “Two laps to go, can Red Bull catch up with Mclaren or will Norris win his fourth Grand Prix of the season?” As more and more people noticed the energetic voice of the commentator as there was only one more lap to go, they rushed to the windows that I had been standing at for the entirety of the race, not eating a single thing because it felt like betraying my own values. 

Then you should leave and tell Lando to fuck off. 

I ignored my inner thoughts and instead focused solely on the two cars coming closer and closer to the finish line. Lando was still in front, but only less than two meters behind him followed the dark blue car of Max. The tension in the large room was almost palpable and it was as if every person next to me held their breath seconds before Lando’s orange car crossed the checkered flag first and the tension left my body as fast as it came. 

He won. I felt beyond happy to have witnessed this special moment for him and now the excitement inside of me grew even more to see him for a second time. 

Some people in the VIP area cheered because of his win, others seemed rather disappointed by the outcome of this race and the majority of people simply didn’t seem to care and quickly focused back on either their food or their conversation they had with the person in front of them before Lando’s win interrupted it. 

I was happy that I could finally leave this room and the negative impact that it had on my self-confidence. 

When Lando sent me the ticket, he told me he also reserved a spot for me in the Mclaren paddock so I could go there once the race was over and congratulate him in case he had won the race, so I followed the signs through the hallways until I saw a door to the Mclaren paddock. I slowly opened it and found myself in an ocean of papaya-colored shirts and hats and felt incredibly lost by the big number of people. 

Everyone was rushing outside, so I followed the crowd like a shadow until I blinked into the bright sun and only seconds later caught a glimpse at Lando who had the biggest smile on his face as he ran up to his team. Too many people walked up to him at the same time and congratulated him on the magnificent win and Lando seemed to be enjoying the attention like it was the best thing to ever happen in his life. 

He walked around the paddock, shaking hands, smiling and hugging people, before his eyes unexpectedly met mine. The surprise to see me here was written all over his face, before he shot a smile at me that made my stomach twirl in a way that it never did when Lukas did the same thing. 

The magical moment only lasted a few seconds and then Lando had to break our eye contact and continue to hug more team members. 

That was, when his teammate Oscar Piastri walked into the paddock and first of all wrapped Lando in a short hug and then walked over to the side, which unfortunately was right next to me. He looked at me irritated, obviously noticing that I was not wearing anything papaya-colored. “Are you even allowed to be here?” he asked and I tried not to judge him for the arrogant tone in his voice, I understood that he didn’t want anyone in the paddock who did not belong there. 

“Yes, I think so.” I gave him a soft smile, not sure if I was allowed to expose Lando inviting me here. 

He raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing me. “That’s what they all say.” 

“No, really.” I point towards Lando. “He invited me.” 

His eyes grew wide for a short second. “Who? Lando?” He chuckled. “Yeah, no way. You better leave right now or I’ll make sure you never step a foot in here ever again.” 

My temperature repeatedly changed from ice cold to standing in a bonfire every two seconds. What should I do now? I was only moments away from getting to speak to Lando again, waiting two entire days before getting to hear his voice again were the longest days in the entire universe. Thankfully, I did not need to worry a second longer because a familiar voice reached my ears and suddenly Lando stood next to me, his eyes wandering from me to Oscar. 

“Good to see you here.” Lando said to me and gave me an innocent, nervous smile. “Congrats on the win, Mr. Racing-is-more-my-thing.” Were my first words I said to him and for a second forgot about Oscar standing right next to us still thinking I am a liar because I got lost in Lando’s appearance. The racing helmet messed up his dark curls and a few pearls of sweat ran down his face, but he was still looking as amazing as when I first met him. 

Oscar then pulled me out of my immovability by clearing his throat. “You know her?” He asked Lando awkwardly, his gaze nervously wandering between the both of us.

He nodded. “Yes, I met her at a bar the other night and invited her here.” For a short moment, his eyes met mine again before he looked over at his teammate. 

Oscar focused back on me. “I am sorry for addressing you like that.” He let out and I only shrugged. 

“I understand. I wouldn’t want someone spying on me as well.” I smiled at him and he nodded before walking away to talk to other members of the team. 

“You already met Oscar?” Lando rhetorically asked with an ironic tone in his voice. “Seems like it.” I laughed. 

A silence built between us when Lando talked again: “So, how was your first Formula 1 race besides nearly getting thrown out of the paddock?” He asked. 

I let out a sigh. “Good, I guess… I still don’t really understand much about the sport, but the speed y’all put on is pretty impressive.” I laughed and stared at his eyes covered in amusement. 

“Sounds like the average first impression that a newby has at a Formula 1 race. You’ll get used to it, promise.” The knowing look in his face made my heart rate rise to an indescribable level. That sounded as if he wanted to see me at more than one race.

Not knowing what to say, I simply grinned at him again. “Looking forward to that.” I breathed out and suddenly the eye contact got more and more intense and the atmosphere between us changed rapidly and all I wanted to do was press my lips onto his. 

He seemed to be feeling the same tension, but was better at resisting the urge. He quickly stepped a few steps away from me and the warmth in my body cooled back down. 

“Thanks for inviting me by the way.” I then said to fill the sudden silence. “I don’t think I want to know what that ticket must’ve cost you.” Or do the drivers get them for free? “Again, no need to thank me, Josie. I love helping you out.” 

“But giving me a VIP ticket is not exactly helping me, so–” 

Lando interrupted me. “Shut up and just accept it, alright?” He told me and had to laugh at his own words. 

“Yes, Sir.” I responded ironically. 

Lando’s gaze suddenly focused on the team behind me and the professional look on his face already told me that he had to leave to do his after-race job. 

“I have to go and celebrate. Meet me in the private parking lot when I am done here?” he asked and I nodded, looking forward to being alone with him. “I’ll send you a message when I am coming.” 

While Lando followed his duties as an f1 driver, I silently admired him during his press interviews and later on the podium at the champagne shower and could not not-notice how hot his racing suit looked on him and that the papaya-orange actually suited him rather brilliantly. 

It was three hours later after our interaction in the paddock that he sent me the long awaited message of meeting me at the parking lot. I walked up to my car and sat down on the hood of my little, red golf that I have been driving for the past 5 years while waiting for him. 

When he walked up to me, now dressed in a team hoodie and a big grin on his face, it felt like something straight out of a romance book. The rich man secretly meets up with the middle-class student at college at night. Just without the night sky and he was rich, but had no problem with introducing me to Oscar. 

“Hey.” 

“Hey.” He sat down next to me and his leg brushed against mine which made my stomach jump up and down like a little child who was desperate to get that one specific chocolate at the supermarket. 

“Great interviews.” I said and looked at him from the side. 

He shrugged. “Definitely not my favorite part of the job though.” 

“I could tell.” I smiled and loved to play my psychologist-student card on him for the second time.

“Right. I always forget I am talking to a psychologist.” His eyes met mine. “If you don’t mind me asking, what gave it away?” Again, the pure interest in his face for my specialty nearly made me giggle like a little child but I could keep it to myself. The least I wanted was to embarrass myself in front of him. “You looked down on your hands a lot and I saw you fidgeting with your fingers more than once.” I slowly touched his hand to prove my point and felt something similar to an electric shock running through my body as if I touched an electric fence. 

Lando looked down, laughing. “Thanks, Sherlock. You really do notice everything. Is that something you only learn through studying psychology or is it like a talent of yours?” 

His words surprised me in a positive way and I felt weirdly appreciated and valued. I didn’t know what to say and simply stared at him in awe. “What’s wrong?” He quietly laughed. 

“Nothing. I just–” I let out a sigh. “I don’t think anyone has ever cared about my talents before.” Atleast not in the way you do, I silently add, too scared to ruin this moment with too much vulnerability too early.

Lando tilted his head. “Then you never met anyone who truly cares about you.” It seemed that the realization of what he just admitted only reached him after the words had already left his mouth, but he did not care for long. “So, please answer my question?” “I think it’s more of a natural thing to be honest.” I said, doing him the favor. “As far as I can remember, I had always been good at analyzing people and their behavior, especially towards me.” I explained this talent a bit further.

“What do you know about me then?” 

I hesitated. The tension that had been boiling between us at the paddock seemed to be coming back and now that we were alone, I wasn’t sure if I could resist his perfect eyes staring into mine as he watched me closely, waiting for my answer like it was the last thing he would be doing. 

“That you care about me. And that you like having me around, even when we are not alone. I don’t know why, but I think you are yourself around me.” Just realising what I had just said, I cut myself off before hectically trying to explain what I meant by that. “I mean– It’s not like I know you or anything or have the right to just assume these things about you, but–” 

With every word, I felt more embarrassed and simply did not notice Lando moving closer and closer to me and now staring at my lips instead of my eyes. It was only when I could feel his breath on my skin that I realised how close he really was to me. “You’re right. I am myself around you, Josie. And that is why I cannot resist the spell you have on me.” 

Without much hesitation, he lightly pressed his lips onto mine, trying to find out if we are on the same page here. I gave him a very obvious answer by letting my hand slide up to his neck and pulling him further down to me. He moaned into my mouth and his tongue met mine in an eager play of passion and lust. 

Quickly, a simple kiss turned into so much more. The soft smell of vanilla and something so indescribably Lando-like was mixed with sweat from his race and I didn’t think I have ever loved a smell more than this one. My hands moved up to his hair and I gently drowned them in his curls that really did feel as good as they look. 

Landos hands slid under my shirt and softly ran over my back, giving me goosebumps and only increased the feeling of wanting to be impossibly closer to him. He must’ve had the same desire because he pulled me on his lap in a swift motion and I let my hips roll against his body which made us both moan loudly into each other's mouths. 

This kiss felt like my very personal heaven. He felt like heaven, his body so close to mine. When I slowly let go of him and his eyes displayed the same begging for more that I felt in every inch of my body, I knew I was in trouble. I’ve fallen for Lando Norris. 

[imaredshirt]

It takes Fiddleford a while to realize it.

It takes years, actually. Which he theorizes could be a side effect of using the memory gun so often - one downside of many, apparently - but it finally hits him one day when he's exploring his new mansion.

He's only been living in the place for a few months at this point. The Northwests left a lot behind but they didn't leave a map, so Fiddleford spends a few hours a day drafting up blueprints of each floor and every room. He's looking through a printout of his current draft and as he's distracted, he doesn't notice that there's a staircase three feet ahead of him.

The fall takes him by surprise. He tumbles down, hitting every carpeted step with a yelp, and when he finally reaches the end, he lands wrong.

Very wrong. He should be permanently injured. He knows it. Landing on your head at his age after a tumble like that - can't be good. No siree.

But he gets to his feet and dusts his knees off and rubs his aching head and he's just fine.

So he sits on the first step and thinks back and realizes with snap of his fingers - he can't die.

Which is not to say that the fall would have killed him or that he's completely invincible, but he thinks back to all the mishaps he's had.

People have hit him with cars (multiple times) and he's always walked away with a spring in his step. Piles of trash and scrap metal have toppled over him in the scrapyard (also multiple times) and he's climbed out from under them without a scratch. He's been eaten by a pterodactyl, electrocuted by multiple inventions, tumbled off a cliff, struck by lightning, attacked by supernatural creatures around Gravity Falls, and has used the memory gun more times than anyone in town.

His arm's not even injured. He just likes how the bandages look.

Stanford would likely be stunned and worried by everything Fiddleford has survived (understandably so) but he would also find it all fascinating.

Fiddleford's not sure he would agree with that. He's worried. But the researcher in him is convinced it has something to do with the Portal Incident, when 1/3 of his body spent all of fifteen seconds inside the portal.

That's when it started, he thinks. It has to be.

But then, he wonders - if the portal has had this effect on him from something that happened years ago, what has it done to the Pines brothers? Stanley, who spent years working on the portal, and Stanford, who spent just as long on the other side?

It just so happens that at that moment, the doorbell rings. Fiddleford throws the massive doors to find the very brothers he's been pondering standing there, still in their travel gear. They've returned from their voyage on the Stan o' War II three months early. He can smell the sea on their coats.

Stanley barges in, pulling Stanford after him, and when Fiddleford shuts the doors, Stanley throws his coat open to reveal the metal end of a broken harpoon head sticking out of his chest, right over his heart.

"Fiddleford," Stanford says as Fiddleford stares, aghast. "We need to use your machinery. We can't exactly walk into a hospital with our very new statuses as, ah, very wanted criminals--"

"We got on the wrong side of the law, what's new about that?" Stanley interrupts. He gestures wildly at the metal sticking out of tender, reddened skin. "Anyway, you think any old doctor is gonna be able to fix this? Ford says you're the only guy who can help, so I'm just gonna get to the point, McGucket - four days ago, some stupid pirate got lucky and hit me. Four days ago! Why aren't I dead?"

Fiddleford pulls out his trust notebook, and as Stanford details the attack and how well Stanley has fared with a metal spear stuck between his ribs and likely puncturing his heart, Fiddleford thinks he knows that the brothers are well aware of the possible cause, but are perhaps too shocked to admit it.

Even months after Weirdmageddon and the dismantling of the awful invention beneath the Mystery Shack, it just seems that messing with an inter-dimensional portal is not without consequences.