#idk whether i should be impressed its so low

[thatdeadaquarius]

Have i sent you a health check yet, if not.

GO DRINK WATER AND DON'T FORGET TO EAT YOUR MEALS YOU OVERGROWN SPERM CELL

or else ill come eat your toes in your sleep 👺

ADHAKLDLAHH THE ESCALATION 😭😭

I did vv good today actually - i remembered dinner w/o anyone else reminding me and it was a real meal >:)

Thank you for checking in !! :]

ALSO GOOD NEWS U GUYS !!

:D I FINALLY GOT AN ADHD DIAGNOSIS WOO HOO 🎉✨️🎆🎇

Fuck yes yall got no idea how long it took to get to this point, it was exhausting but worth it

Even tho its my last semester in cOlLaGe 🙄 i finally am in the process of getting accommodations ! :)

Anyway, that is to say its been a helleva week,

I also got to talk with a native spanish speaker over like a penpal zoom thing i had to do for my spanish class !

it was uh.. 💀 yeah.

But she was cool at least <3

Look out for some more posts bby i am working hard, working hard to please you /ref

(U kno that justin bieber meme? Yeah that)

Cheers,

🌒🌧🌊 💀Aquarius🌌♒️🌘

[seiwas]

SEL MY SEL …….. crawling over here for the ask game …………… you already know . who i’m going to ask for phdkdjdkdb IN MY DEFENSE I WILL NEVER GET OVER YOUR VERSION OF HIM !!!!!!!

….. sugu ….. with ’sun’ ……. maybe 👉👈

(🍵 <- a little matcha for your troubles … good luck with the writing exercises my loveee <33 i’m cheering you on!!!)

ARI 🥹🥹🥹🥹 hehe ofc i shall write sugu for u! writing him is always so fun 🥹 thank you for the prompt, and for the matcha!! i will be sipping it as i write this 🥹 it is not a trouble at alllll!! esp if it's for youuuuu 🫶

contains: beautiful, gorgeous, sexy neighbor suguru, mood can be a bit unsettling... honestly a little stockholm syndrome-y (does this count as dark? idk 😭), skewed concept of reality and time

suguru + sun

you move into a new neighborhood on your 24th birthday.

it's a quaint house, fully furnished with wooden panels lining its contemporary build. you consider yourself lucky for finding a place this well-kept at the price point you offered. you're honestly surprised that suguru, your now landlord, accepted your application.

the area sits a few kilometers on the outskirts of the city, but it feels neither too quiet nor too busy; a perfect balance with an impressive view of the rising sun this early in the morning. that, and the people seem friendly, greeting you as they pass by. they even offer to help you haul things out of your car and into the house.

to the right of your house is one that holds the same design elements at yours, although a bit darker in its tones. it's sleek and modern, befitting of a bachelor.

"you must be the new tenant," a voice speaks from behind you, syrupy and smooth. you didn't even hear his footsteps.

when you turn around, you're met with a tall man who greets you with his arms held behind his back as he tilts his head low. there's a calmness that radiates off him, a sort of gentleness that signals he’s someone you can trust.

you nod, introducing yourself with your hand outstretched towards him.

"suguru," he replies as his fingers grab yours delicately. your eyes widen in surprise, recognizing the name, and he merely chuckles in return, a soft laugh that brings out kindness in his eyes.

"i should greet you properly," he lets go of your hand, placing it back behind him. "hello, new neighbor."

.

over shared breakfasts by your porch and impromptu dinners over at his, you grow a liking to suguru. he's polite and thoughtful, often knocking at your door in the mornings to offer you a cup of tea to watch the sunrise.

"you'll only find sunrises like this here," he leans back on the wooden chair you set out as outdoor furniture. his head tilts towards you slightly, impossibly close as you notice the corner of his lips curl up into a small grin.

hues of pinks, purples, and orange blend to illuminate his face perfectly. the sun is beautiful in front you, peeking between clouds as it inches away from the horizon, but something about him is infinitely more magnetic. your stare is immediately drawn to his lips, smooth and supple, before it meets his gaze.

you don't know what's worse―wanting to lean in or be pulled by the look in his eyes.

he fixes things that break in your home, always somehow knowing just when to show up. at first, it was your windows, the one by the attic, too high and dangerous for you to climb; then, it was your kitchen sink, its pipes regurgitating the water going down the drain. he's begun to bring you your groceries too, often asking for a list of what you need when he makes trips out of town.

your days blur easily when you're with suguru, and time passes almost fleetingly as you find your hours filled with soft laughs and touches so delicate you sometimes wonder whether they're real.

it should be noted, you think, how much time has passed since you first met him―an anniversary of some sort.

.

you learn that he owns both houses―his and the one you're currently renting. it once belonged to a friend who had to move for bigger, greater responsibilities elsewhere, he'd said.

"why did you decide on renting?" you ask him one night, over wine and candlelight.

your fingers fiddle with his as he sits you on his lap, this thing between you growing more intimate lately. he rubs his thumb along your thigh, resting his chin by your shoulder.

"you could have sold it or something."

he presses his lips gently on your collarbone.

"i could've," his fingers trail up to your waist, crossing your chest before landing on your chin, cupping it lightly to face him. your heart is hammering in your chest, senses on fire as his nose kisses yours. you think you can count every mole that dots his face beautiful. then, he inches closer, lips grazing yours as he whispers, "but i was waiting for you."

.

you mark each day at sunrise.

your digital clocks and calendars stopped working after some time, but you don't mind. suguru always tells you what date it is when you ask.

this morning, you wake up in his bed, and the sun is still as breathtaking as you remember it, the same pink, purple, and orange hues streaming through his window. when you look closely, the clouds―

"good morning," he brings you tea in bed, his hair topped off with a bun, a half-up-half-down.

your stomach fills itself with something warm and fuzzy as you smile at him, "morning."

"slept well?" his hand reaches for your waist under the duvet, and you giggle, ticklish.

"very," you crane your neck to land a soft kiss on his lips. "what date is it today?"

"october 28," he supplies.

your eyebrows shoot up as you realize, "i have to bring my car to the mechanic."

it's been 6 months now since your last check, right before you moved, and though you barely use your car anyway, it's best to be safe.

you quickly move to get up but suguru's hand keeps you in place, firmly pressed on your waist.

"i'll do it," he says with a smile on his face, "you rest here."

.

you barely see your other neighbors except for the girl who smokes a pack of cigarettes a day and the twins down the street.

when you ask suguru about it, he dismisses the question quickly, saying, "must have moved," as he urges you to take another sip of your tea.

you dream of them that night, on bare streets; it wakes you in a cold sweat, the image of your neighborhood reduced to just your house and suguru's.

.

this is the 200th sunrise since you started counting, which means this is the 200th day since you and suguru officially got together. kind of.

your gift for him is a painting of the sunrise, because it reminds you of him; and because it's become your favorite thing to look forward to, too.

the pinks and purples blend together beautifully as it contrasts with the orange hues, and the sun continues to peak above the horizon as it settles between clouds.

suguru kisses you when you give it to him, the taste of tea right on his tongue.

he frames it on his bedside, and when you wake in his room the next morning, it greets you along with the back of his head, fast asleep.

your eyes flit to the view outside his window, the same pinks, purples, and orange hues. you tilt your head curiously, brows furrowing. the sun stays at the same spot above the horizon, and when you look at the painting again, the clouds hold the same position and shape.

a chill washes over you, your hearbeat pounding.

.

"what date is it today?" you ask suguru as you wash the potatoes in the sink.

another bag of groceries from suguru. now that you think about it, you don't think you've ever gone to the grocery store since moving.

"is it important?" he responds, slightly snappy. you've begun to notice that he hates it when you ask lately.

you eye him from the side.

"i was thinking of preparing a menu of what we'll eat during the holidays, if it's near."

the furrow on his brows smooths out as you give your answer, and so he says, "december 5."

and you know something is wrong, because that can't be it. it doesn't make sense with the sunrises you've counted.

.

you dream again, more and more as the days go by―dirt roads and your house and suguru's, run-down and empty. more things start breaking in your apartment, and suguru always knows when they need to be fixed.

there's a deep, twisting feeling in your stomach that intensifies, festering under your skin; it worsens in the mornings, when you sit with suguru at your porch and you think you see a crack in the sunrise.

.

sunrise valley the place where the sun never sets! ─── beautiful, bright, and destined for people who live just like you! find your new home here.

[DISCONTINUED] — FOR DEMOLITION ON DECEMBER 7. under investigation for suspicious spiritual activity and missing persons.

[peachfiend]

HAIR TIP

Disclaimer this is Probably very unhealthy. Like not literal physically or mentally but its probably not the best for your hair

Okay so like flufft volumous hair is really fucking cool but if you have my hair type (idk like... straight ish but can hold a curl great and medium thick. No clue if itll woek on anyrhing else. Probably not curly hair) it can be a BITCH to do especially in the mornings

This makes the most you have to do on the morning brush your hair out so.

Take a shower or bath or whatever the fuck. Who cares. Wash your hair. Test whether condotioner affects the results, for me it doesnt but it Might, and conditioner makes my hair less dry but like. Try it with and without conditioner

Towel dry when you get out. Ur hair should be damp but not dripping

Fuckin load as much product as you have. I typically put in hair spray, 2 types of mousse, this curl gel shit that smells like lemons and a regular light hold gel.

You can scrunch up your hair throughout with a towel but i dont think it mattwrs that much

From here either go the Fuck to bed, sleep and wake up with the most horrendously crunchy haor ever. (This was a constant when i had longer hair- the crunch was impressive). Dont worry. This is supposed to happen

Brush that fucker out. It will be so fluffy if you have longer hair (by longer i kean like- almost shoulder length compared to ear length type beat). If you have shorter itll be more just plain volume than Fluff

If you're doing this during the day just letting it air dry is okay too, your hair will he a lot more moldable so itll be fluffu (i havemt tried this on my longer hair but my short hair it works fine)

I will honestly leave this in my hair for Days at a time, it creates a really low effort cute messy look imo. Probably dont do this constsnrly its probajly bad for your hair

[milky-fixx]

love bites + love handles

BLEACH; various characters x chubby!reader headcanons

ft. gin ichimaru, Izuru kira, shuhei hisagi, adult!toshiro hitsugaya

tw: 18+ not sfw. all charas are aged up. afab reader. mentions of internalized fatphobia, insecurity, in terms of gin specifically, unhealthy relationship dynamics? (sorry y/n ur man is toxic.) in izuru’s section- mommy kink,, uh lactation, death/dying kink?? idk what i have done lol.

gin ichimaru—;

He likes pet names that point out your chub and veer dangerously close to derogatory i.e. my lil’ swine, my plump dumplin.’ He means these affectionately—or at least as affectionate as he can get—but that doesn’t translate well with his permanent smile, his mocking tone. Even if they weren’t related to your size, surely his delivery would make you wonder if it was something more sinister than teasing. If you ever tell him so, he’s quick to rectify.  

“Aw, don’t get yer panties in a knot~” he says, curling his arms around you, squeezing your middle. Another thing he loves doing. Drawing attention to your gut, even if it does make you flustered. “I’m only teasin’ ya.”

Canonically, he loves Rangiku, and while his eyes are almost always closed, he’s certainly not blind to her assets. He likes someone who can fill his arms generously, who he can sink his fangs into better—it gives him the impression that he owns you more fully.

If you’re ever down about your appearance—whether it be as a result of society’s unrealistic beauty standards, a piece of clothing that just won’t sit right on your figure, whatever—he’s awful at comfort. His nature is to antagonize rather than to soothe. But if you were having an especially bad day, and were ever to ask him if he likes your body, he’ll offer you a rare, genuine frown. “‘Course I like it. Why’d ya’ think I don’t?” If you were to persist, or even go down a spiral of why he shouldn’t, he’ll stop you, his icy gaze cutting through your words. “Not another peep outta ya.’” Before he distracts you. In Gin’s view, you can’t be lingering on certain topics once he’s teasing you again, right? But his teasing will have a little less bite this time, and lead its way to compliments that come across as more genuine than not.

Something Gin might do that confuses you is procuring skimpy clothes or lingerie for you, and leaving them out for you to wear. They’re often a size or two too small for you, and when you try them on, it’s nothing short of scandalous the way it squeezes into your flesh. It makes you wonder if he’s doing it intentionally, and don’t worry—he is. He’s a dick.  His reasoning though, is that he’s quite enamored by the way straps look digging into your shoulders, or garters digging into your thighs, the way you spill out generously from a too-tight corset. He’s all simpering about it too, for instance, watching you parade around Hueco Mundo or Seireitei with a low-cut outfit that leaves your curves to no one’s imagination. In his defense, he can play the role of the “concerned,” “protective" lover in public if you get flustered, dragging you back home by the waist as he tells you, “Ya’ silly thing, why’d ya’ even go out wearing tha’ kinda stuff? Ya’ know what a sight ya’ are?” Hmm, I wonder why. At some point, you can’t trust his choices, and you have to hide your clothes from his alterations. 

During sex, he likes having you on top so he can see your softer parts jiggle. He also enjoys seeing his fingerprints left on your skin, and is quite enamored with the marks tight clothing leaves on you. He may or may not pinch your fat rolls. He’s awful. You should break up with him, Y/N. If only the crazy dick wasn’t also good.

izuru kira— ;

Izuru thinks the world is a harsh and unforgiving place. The exact opposite of you and your body, and thus you become a sanctuary of sorts for him. He’s reverent—your entire body is as soft as a pillow, and he’s in desperate need of coddling from the world. What’s not to love?

Izuru especially likes running his hand along the dips and curves of your body when you’re bared before him, likening it to nature, the divine, his muse. And with him sweetly murmuring how you must have been spun from the gods’ silken hands themselves, how can you feel anything but beautiful?

Insecurities are undoubtedly a part of anyone with a body’s experience though, and if you’re ever particularly down about your appearance, Izuru is aghast. He assumes he’s at fault for making his muse think they’re unappreciated. He’ll show you some of his more, ahem, embarrassing haikus about you. If you want, he’ll even give you a mini performance, replete with his flushed cheeks, his gaze nervously darting to yours to gauge your reaction. Writing poems about you in secret is one thing, but having to perform them in front of you? If he didn’t love you so much, he thinks he could die of the embarrassment.

He accepts that there are things you’ll always dislike about yourself. If he were to list his own shortcomings, it would run miles. Izuru always lives in some kind of self-hating despair, but you—you’re his light. He hopes that by showing you how much he adores your body, you'll also come around to it.

If you’re ever pregnant and/or lactating, Izuru would love to suck on your breasts. Mommy kink confirmed. Even if the topic of trying for a baby baby has just been breached, you’ll sometimes catch him staring longingly at your breasts, before catching your eye and coughing, acting like he’s not. He’s mortified to admit just how... arousing he finds the thought of potential changes to your body.

Speaking of kinks, dying and other morbid things is something Izuru muses about often, but when it comes to you, something about these thoughts turns almost naughty. He’s embarrassed to admit it, but he thinks about being suffocated by your chest, or to suffocate with his face buried in your folds, your thighs caging his head. Sometimes these thoughts get him hard—dying is inevitable, and is a constant presence in a Shinigami’s life, but the thought of dying while wrapped up in your loved one? It’s somehow hot. Izuru is a bit too shy to mention these thoughts to you...

shuhei hisagi— ;

If you’re chubby, Shuhei finds the experience of going down on you even hotter. He’ll get nosebleeds at the thought of your thighs squeezing his head, his nose pressed into your slick folds until he can barely breathe, his hands coming up to grip your thighs as he groans at the give of them. Certified sub status.

Speaking of thighs, he loves to fuck them. Something about the thought is just hot—him squeezing your thighs together, his voice husky as he tells you to keep them clenched tight for him... good, just like that. Especially so if the head of his dick peeks through between them. He can literally cum from just that, his breath hitching at the sight of his seed streaked across them. It just makes him want to lick them even more.

Shuhei also kinda—don’t let him know you’re onto him—but when he’s really stressed from Seireitei Weekly deadlines, from his lieutenant duties, from seeming to run everything on his own? If you two are sitting on the couch together, he’ll just bury his face in your chest. It becomes a habit, and once he’s gotten over his hesitation, he’ll ask you for the boob pillow. Sometimes, when he’s so tense from everything, he’ll complain this way only, into your chest where it’s muffled and he doesn’t feel quite as much of a whiner and all he can think about is how soft you feel around him. You rubbing your hand through his head and listening to him complain is a nice touch.

He really likes hitting it from the back, where he can watch your plush ass bounce when his hips meet it. Also you on top, so he can see ever part of you.

His favorite part about you is how soft you are. Your tits pressing against his chest when he hugs you, the way he can dig into the softest parts of your thighs. 

He would love it if you ever asked him to pick your outfits for the day, or week. He may not look it, but sometimes he sees a cool jacket or top that he thinks would love great on you, but he doesn’t wanna come across as  weird and tell you how to dress. But he’d jump at the opportunity. Surprisingly his eye for fashion is pretty good, and he loves to get you punk outfits that compliment his.

toshiro hitsugaya— ;

He is traumatized from Rangiku’s boob smush. That being said, he does his best to ignore said assets from anyone, even if they are noticeable.

To be honest, it doesn’t really register to Toshiro that you being fat is something you should worry or be insecure about. If you mention it, he’ll blink and be like, “Yes. Your point being?” Truly, he thinks that appearances shouldn’t matter. He’s quite defensive about it, considering how people used to judge for looking too young for a captain.

If you ever mention being insecure, he’s conflicted. He wants to tell you that you’re perfect to him and you have nothing to worry about. But at the same time, he can’t quite bring himself to admit that. Toshiro’s tendency for bluntness and raw honesty is quite clumsy when it comes to declarations of affection. So he settles for showing you instead--with a fierce kiss, his arm tugging you forward

“Don’t be stupid,” he says sternly. “You’re per--fine just the way you are.”

He does try to show you how much you mean to him. Perhaps by upping the physical affection, which is a huge deal for Mr. Frigid and Icy. He’ll initiate hugs from behind, even in public.

If you continue to be insecure, he suggests--and he means this with no ill intention--some guides and strategies for self-love and shit. He finds it cheesy but he really wants to help you, while also not wanting to coddle you? He’s definitely had to look up research guides to relationships before, so he figures that’s a place to start.

As an adult, he’s pretty lean, so he also appreciates the size difference. Toshiro doesn’t treat you differently, hauling you onto his lap in those rare moments when he’s tired from paperwork and wants a pick-me-up, and has stopped giving a damn about decorum. But just picture grumpy Toshiro, nuzzling into your chest, asking for “Five more minutes,” because the feel of being wrapped around is much better than his hand cramping from all the papers he’s had to sign off of.

Ah. I’m loving the idea of Toshiro with a fuller boo and doing cute domestic shit. You feeding him curry you made while he hugs you from behind and complains that it’s too spicy (it’s not; he just has a piss-poor tolerance for spice). Napping with Toshiro on the couch on his day off and he cracks an eye open, a small smile curling his lips at the sight of you as he wraps an arm around you. Toshiro glowering at you when he’s in the rare mood for affection and you keep darting out of his grasp, until he pins you against the counter and steals a kiss from you while grumbling, “Finally.”

Rangiku thinks you’re the cutest couple, and definitely does her best to catch you two in the act of doing, what she deems, “cute couple activities.” More than once she’s walked in on you sitting in Toshiro’s lap, not even doing anything spicy, but just playing with his hair. It’s cute. She has totally taken blackmail pics. In her defense, her taicho never looks that soft with just anyone.

Body worship is big in the bedroom. Toshiro’s cold lips trailing your skin, his gaze heated. He may not be the best with words of affirmation, but he’s content to show you like this how much you mean to him.

[starvine]

first date headcanons

attack on titan (modern au)

summary: some first date headcanons with some of the attack on titan characters. 

warnings: none, just fluff :)

eren jaeger: movie 

a little basic but it’s all eren could come up with

besides, it was between a movie and dinner and dinner felt too formal so y’all decided on a movie

he’d let you pick the movie tho

he might argue with you if it’s something stupid and claim that it’s horribly written (as if he knows a thing) but that’s it

eren would make sure to get the BEST snacks. spicy food? check. candy? check. popcorn? check. fruits? check.

he just wants to impress you (even if he did have to confide in his friends for some advice)

he just really likes you

during the movie, you guys would start shifting closer to each other, both a little too timid to move all the way all at once

but you guys would make commentary throughout the movie, laughing when things seem too cliché or when a character says something funny

half way throughout the movie, you guys aren’t even really paying attention it it

you’re too busy throwing popcorn at each other and trying to catch it in your mouths, feeding each other candy, and giggling at each other

it’s intimate in its own relaxed way, which makes eren realize how perfect you are

you both could make the most out of a pretty average first date situation and make it into a beyond amazing first date

and that was all he needed to ask you on a second date before he dropped you off at your car, walking with you to make sure you got there safely

and ngl you’d be a bit of a fool to say no to eren

armin arlert: aquarium 

sweetheart is so nervous 

before he came to your apartment to pick you up for your date, he was a little nervous wreck 

he was fidgeting with his fingers, playing with the buttons on his shirt--he probably accidentally opened one by accident 

but once he saw you, he felt fine 

it was as if he physically melted, you just make everything okay 

once you guys got to the aquarium, he would NOT shut up

he was probably pointing things out, telling you fun facts, asking you what is your favorite marine life 

“oh, you like pufferfish? that’s cool! i like them too. they’re very... puffy.” 

he’s like a child in a candy store 

but while he’s rambling about how the digestive system of a sea cucumber basically cleans the ocean, he’s wondering how he should make a move 

he doesn’t want to scare you off or anything, but he doesn’t want you to be disappointed 

but while you guys are looking at one of those large fish tanks, the ones where you walk through a tunnel, you guys just sort of stand there and watch in awe

or rather armin watches in awe while you look at him, a soft smile gracing his pink lips as his eyes dart across the illustriously blue colored glass

and when he feels your pinky latch onto his, he’s a little shocked that you had made the first move

he didn’t not expect it per say, he just thought that he would be the one to make the first move 

but his overthinking got in the way

and when he turns to look down at your intertwined pinkies, he caught you sending him a delicate smile that made his heart squeeze until he felt as if every part of him was on fire

but it was him who finally held your hand fully 

he just needed you to give him the extra push

mikasa ackerman: book store 

it’s a very calming atmosphere, which is something you’d both need for this first date

mikasa is probably pretty anxious for the first date, and wants to make sure you’re okay and enjoying yourself while also making sure she’s okay and enjoying herself

so the calming scent of the book store and the quietness is perfect for her to multitask between mediating the two

you’d both be tasked with picking each other books and then buying them for each other

so initially mikasa was nervous because she wasn’t sure what to get you but then you asked what she liked to read and so that allowed her to ask the same, making the situation less stressful

and all while you two are walking from isle to isle, eyes scanning the various book titles and covers, she sneaks glances at you and how pretty you look

and the fact that you seem very deep in thought, heavily concentrated on getting her the right book, makes her feel less concerned on whether or not you’d rather be with her or not

the answer is obviously a yes but mikasa has a hard time understanding that sometimes

so when you give her the book you bought for her, making sure to lightly touch her fingers while you hand it to her, she already knows that another date is what she wants you both to have or else she’ll probably explode

and based off of how flushed she looks, the possibility of her exploding is not highly unlikely

you guys will sit at this little table in the corner of the store, reading your books

i can picture mikasa annotating certain lines that remind her of you, making mental notes to show you later

overall, the date is pretty lowkey and very sweet

connie springer: dave + busters/bowling

ok there’s not much of an explanation for this one besides the point that if feels right

like connie is pretty energetic and i feel like you can learn a lot about a person based off of the games they’re drawn to 

hence the arcade

i think connie really likes those racing games or the zombie shooting games

he also claims he’s really good at ski ball (he’s not, he’s trash)

so a good portion of the date consists of you just laughing at him the whole time cuz in all honestly he’s not the best at games but he enjoys them for the fun of them

he’d definitely cheer you on when you were playing or try to mess you up if it was you two against each other

but either way he’d give you a hug or a pat on the head after every game

even if u beat him

he’d probably try to sneak a kiss when you guys were in one of those shooting games that requires a booth and the curtains drawn (does that make sense?)

it’s not really romantic like at all, especially since it smells like a million different people in there, but it’s very low stress so in all honesty that’s what makes the kiss nice

and after you guys had used up all your tokens, you’d combine your tickets and pick something together

your prizes would mostly consist of candy and him insisting he get you a plastic gem ring so you can always remember your first date together

it was also his little, strange way of asking you for a second date

levi ackerman: art museum 

unlike connie, he’s not super energetic

so a museum is right up his alley

levi’s a bit awkward, he doesn’t really know how to talk to you

and especially since you’re lovely, his words jumble together and he gets all flustered

so a nice, quiet museum exhibit is perfect for him

it’s a nice balance between casual and formal, so you both dress nice but aren’t restricted by the need to be super polite and stuff

he’d probably like it when you try to imitate the poses that are shown in the paintings or sculptures

just imagine the soft chuckle he’d be unable to prevent from escaping his lips which then melts into a soft smirk

beautiful, beautiful lad

he probably wouldn’t join you though, he doesn’t want to embarrass himself

he just smiles at you and stares at the art, reading the background info they give on those little plates near them

but he would notice when you stare at him

he could be looking at some art made during the dutch golden age, but as soon as your head slightly tilted in his direction, his cheeks would HEAT up

you almost asked him if he was feeling alright he was so red

but as the date went on, levi really just thought about how much he enjoyed your presence

and he’s not a wicked talkative guy so being able to feel comfortable with someone even if you aren’t talking or doing much is pretty important to him

as the date concludes, levi finally works up the courage to place his hand on your shoulder, asking if there was anything else you wanted to see before the museum closes for the day

his face might be bright red, but the smile you give him makes him feel a little less embarrassed

what can you say, you’ve got charm 💅

hange: the fucking zoo

ok i won’t lie when i got the idea of hange taking you to the zoo for your first date i thought it was so funny and idk why

like they’d be so excited that they’d nearly forget that they’re on a date with you

they’d drag you around from exhibit to exhibit, pointing out the exact breed of tortoise or some really strange fact about the zebras without looking at the little description panel in front of the exhibit

it’s pretty comical

but then randomly, when you guys are sitting down and eating some fries from one of the concession stands, they start going on a rant about animal cruelty and how a lot of zoos don’t treat the animals properly

and you’re just sitting there like “what 🧍‍♀️” cuz they’re mood changed so quickly LMAO

and as soon as their rant started, it finishes and they’re rushing you to the reptile exhibit

they’d probably try to figure out if they could hold one of the snakes

you’d have to drag them out of there before they start harassing one of the workers into letting them hold a snake

they’d also give all of the animals names only to forget them in 2 seconds

“hey, robert, it’s good to see you again!” “hange, i thought you named them dante?” “oh... did i? 😁”

however there’s probably like one animal they absolutely despise and idk why but i feel like it’s parrots

y’all would be walking through this rainforest exhibit, birds flying from tree to tree and the whole time they’re cursing the birds under their breath for no reason at all

just an angry person walking through a rainforest exhibit, cursing out birds

pretty normal if you ask me

however, the date itself is pretty casual and almost feels like you guys are just hanging out

or it would if they didn’t ask you out on another date before dropping you off at home, kissing your cheek as their farewell

pieck finger: café

very simple and quaint

i feel like pieck has a coffee addiction and always puts her in a better mood

so what better place to go on a date then a café?

she’s definitely an iced coffee drinker, and will occasionally go for a hot drink but usually iced coffee is her go-to

and if you get a coffee or tea that she also happens to like, you’re already practically golden in her eyes

since pieck has a very soothing and lowkey nature, i can see the date being much more just like a conversation with someone you’ve known for forever instead of interview-y which is something i’ve found coffee/lunch/dinner dates to be a bit like

but pieck knows how to keep things interesting and she’s a pretty calming person to be around so all is well

i also can’t see her getting super nervous before the date

she seems pretty calm unless in high-stress situations, but even then, she’s pretty level-headed

but since she’s so calm, it makes you wonder if she really cares for the date

and of COURSE she does, she’s so excited about it

it’s just the way pieck is

but as the date continues, she’d probably start to tease you by playing footsies under the table

you gotta keep the date interesting, you know?

you guys would talk about your interests, family, friends, shows you’re watching

literally just anything and everything that’ll allow you guys to get a feel for each other

and if all goes well she’ll definitely suggest another date ;)

also don’t expect to leave without her either writing something cute on your cup, pressing a lip-stick stained kiss to your cheek that matches the one surrounding the rim of her cup, or a promise that your game of footsies will continue next time you see each other

[sugako]

sweetness

osamu xf!baker!reader sum: your unrequited crush on the man you sell to is weighing heavily on you until one little party later it isn’t an issue cw: 18+ minors dni, a lil fluff, a lil angst (reader is sad bc they don't think samu feels the same), mentions of drinking/alcohol/party (no one is drunk during), kinda confessions, first time with each other, nipple play, oral (receiving) wc: 3.5k a/n: hi !! uhh i have had this is drafts for months bc i struggled to post it and idk why,, it's def a little longer than usual and little more plot-heavy(ish) but i hope you all enjoy pussy king samu <3

It felt as though you were admiring him from a distance even when he was standing right beside you.

The afternoon that the owner of Onigiri Miya had called up your small bakery to partner with his business you had been overjoyed. Honestly, you were still happy, it was just tinged by something deeper or different now. You were certainly still happy to sell your goods through the business, but your feelings had really gotten the better of you.

The day, actually the moment you met Osamu you told yourself to get over the petty crush you had developed within minutes of meeting him. His big, tall frame made you feel as though he could wrap his arms around you and everything would be okay. His pretty, steely eyes and soft features relaxed you, made you feel at home.

A week later you were groaning into your pillow when he texted a simple, polite compliment about your baked goods. Desperately, you hoped that the fuzzy feeling would melt away any day now.

Every single time you had to see him again and again to drop off your bi-weekly delivery, the feelings didn’t fade. If anything they grew stronger. The quick, comfortable banter you shared made your chest fill with molten gold that always seemed to harden into a tough little peach pit, strangling the words from your throat whenever you got back into your car.

A month later you were crying to yourself at 2 AM about how you couldn’t get over him even though you hadn’t even been close to a relationship. It was impossible. How were you supposed to get closure from someone you were merely business partners with.

You cursed the way your heart sped up when you got a new text from him. Over and over again you had to remind yourself that it was purely business.

Onigiri Miya (Osamu): Hi, do you want to swing by tomorrow? Lunch is on me

Fingers swiped over the keyboard, groaning as you asked what you should bring for the restock, not realizing it had been two weeks already.

Onigiri Miya (Osamu): Everything is selling fast, but I won’t need anything for a bit, just wanted to chat not about business

Without hesitation you agreed. Even if you were sure he didn’t feel the same, it wouldn’t hurt to keep up a personal relationship with a business. The fact that he had texted you deep into the night without prompt didn’t make it into your busy mind.

Those two little texts were how you found yourself taking a deep breath outside the Onigiri Miya a little after the lunch rush. You stepped into the nearly empty building, immediately greeted by Osamu’s soft, low voice.

“I have to run to the back, but I put a plate for you out.” He calls, disappearing just as the door closes behind you.

It’s painful to admit how your heart swells at the gesture. Your favorite onigiri of his is neatly plated in front of a corner seat at the bar. The two other people on the opposite side of the store are quietly chatting, paying no mind while you settle into your seat. Before you can take a bite he’s bustling back in.

“Sorry ‘bout that, got a call.” He says, leaning over the counter in front of you. The way his broad chest is squished by his shoulders.

“No worries.” You say just before biting into the food. He snatches one of the rice balls from your plate, but your mouth is too full and you’re too grateful to protest. “So,” you begin after you swallow, “what did you want to talk about?”

You can’t tell whether the air is thick with awkward tension or if it’s just you.

“I mean, obviously not business.” As you speak, a strangled, little chuckled forces its way out of the back of your throat, but you take another bite of food before it gets out of hand.

He’s silent for a moment, slowly chewing his food. Maybe savoring it or maybe thinking, you can’t quite tell which.

“Can you take nights off from the bakery? I remember you saying ya do a lot of baking and prepping at night.” His expression is impossible to read and you want to tell him that this is, at least for you, business talk, but you hold back and simply answer the question.

“Well, yeah, if I needed to. Uh, why?” You catch how his shoulders tense and lower, his eyes shifting across the windows in the front. Unfortunately, his own anxiety does very little to quell any of your own.

“My brother is having a party and I’m… obligated to go, but I won’t know many people there, they’ll all be his teammates, so I was wondering if you would like to go with me? If you don’t have a… I mean, if you don’t have any plans.” His expression remains still, but there’s a small flush in his cheeks that you catch on immediately. Something in your heart softens with hope.

“You’re twin volleyball brother?” You ask, biting back a smile. “Also, you’ll have to tell me what time the party is and then I’ll let you know if I have plans, but I’m probably free.”

The flush deepens as he recognizes his mistake and slowly blinks, shaking his head. “Yes, ‘Tsumu, the volleyball brother. And the party is next Friday. Around nine.”

Within the limited time you’d spent with him he’d told you about his brother and his old friends. Confidence growing, but not quite steady, you uneasily treaded into your next words.

“Yeah, I’m not working next Friday actually, so that sounds good. Should I text you for the address or…?”

“Meet me here, I can take you. Best to take the train, but it’ll be easier if we go together.”

Deep in the center of the city, standing close enough to smell the soft fragrance of cologne, you still weren’t sure how easily you had ended up here at the house party filled with strangers hosted by your customer’s pro athlete brother. It was a little much to think about if you took too much pause. Before you could slip into your own brain too much your cheek smushed into the thick muscle of Osamu’s solid back that had suddenly stopped moving, and as you sputtered out an apology the door swung open without him even knocking.

“Hey! Did you really not a-” The blonde mirror image of the man standing directly in front of you eats whatever words are about to spill out of his mouth when he notices you peeking out from beside Osamu. Realizing how ridiculously childish you must look tucked away behind him, you clear your throat and step out so you’re by his side instead.

“Hi, I’m y/n.” You say politely, extending a hand for him to shake. Atsumu’s eyes flit between you and his brother, not bothering to hide a smirk.

“Oh, I know.” He finally says when he takes your hand. Out of sheer embarrassment or maybe anxiety, you feel pricks of heat chase out to your fingertips. The sensation is only compounded by Osamu’s feather-light touch that grazes the small of your back as he tries to lead you past his brother.

“Really,” you start, with a sly little smile, “he’s told me about you’re very impressive-”

“Okay.” Osamu says a little too sharply. He’s glad you’re at ease, but less glad that you’ve immediately taken to lightly teasing him with his brother. “Let’s head in.” The warm breath of his whisper jolts through you and you find yourself nodding, letting his touch lead you.

Just as the door is closing behind you and the excruciating reverb of the music seeps into your ears, you barely catch what Atsumu mumbles before he slips into the crowd of people. “Maybe you’ll finally show her how much ya like her.”

Osamu doesn’t respond, and for a second you think maybe he didn’t hear him, but the way his fingers dig into your back tells you otherwise. You simply pretend that you heard nothing, pointing to the drink dispensers lined up on the kitchen counter across the room. After a quick drink of the sweet, burning mystery drink and after Atsumu started to keep his distance - too busy hounding his one teammate with the dark curls whose name you couldn’t quite remember - things went smoothly.

Time passed quickly, helped on by the dozens of new people you were introduced to. The small talk and repetitive questions had you mentally winded, but Osamu’s constant touch whether on your elbow or back or shoulder grounded you. Instead of feeling your heart race as it usually did when he was near, you only felt calm.

It all came crashing down sometime deep into the night when most of the guests had headed home and those left over passed out, scattered everywhere about the house. Well, everywhere aside from the neat guest bedroom tucked away toward the back that Osamu had pulled you back to when the last man (who had drunkenly tried teaching you how to say ‘volleyball’ in Portuguese) had finally passed out.

The single drink you had gulped down hours ago was long gone from your system, but even without it you still found it easy to speak with him, even as his arms inconspicuously wrapped around your torso and brought you down to lie beside him on the bed. Staring up at the ceiling for a moment while the two of you remained in short silence, a thought came to your head, another thing you want to tell him or ask him. You’re not sure which because in the next moment, when you whip your head to face him, he does the same.

If you had been any closer your faces would’ve smashed together. Any farther away and you wouldn’t be brushing lips. Just as soon as the touch begins, it ends with you scrambling away, stopped from falling off the bed by his strong arm wrapping around and pulling you back to his chest. The silence thickens with every second that neither of you speak, but he thankfully breaks it within the minute.

The words fumble around the front of your mouth like your mouth is numb. “I’m so sorry that-!”

“Well, that wasn’t really a proper kiss.” He says plainly, a smile barely etching its way onto the corner of his lips.

“N-no, it was not.” You whisper. It doesn’t quite feel real when he kisses you for real, and for a second you’re worried you’ve deluded yourself. You sigh into his firm touch, finally releasing the tension in your chest and letting your own lightly trembling hands trace up the space between your chests to settle against his. His body is softer than you had thought it would feel, somehow so much more comforting and homey than you could have imagined.

After an endless moment, his mouth strains against yours as he forces himself to pull away with a little huff. Your eyes find his, bright and hopeful, and still a little bit surprised. Between all your personal longing and resignation that he didn’t feel the same, you hadn’t noticed the way he smiled more when you were nearby, the little blush that dusted his cheeks when you complimented his cooking that first time, and so much more.

“Wanted to do that for a long time.” He sighs, leaning his forehead against yours and letting his heavy eyes close. Hiding your grin in his chest, you nod, wrapping your arms around him and snuggling in closer. When your knee glides against his thigh in an attempt to get more comfortable and flush to him, he clears his throat. “We should get changed if we’re going to sleep here. I have extra clothes in the dresser.”

“Okay.” You nod slightly, not wanting to move just yet. He seems to be with you because, despite his own words, he remains exactly in place with his grip just as tight as ever around your waist. “...Samu?” You finally ask, pulling back far enough to look up at him.

“I wanna kiss you again.”

“Okay,” you repeat, “then kiss me again.” The crooked, giddy smile you’re giving him seems to tense him up even more.

He inhales deeply through his nose, eyes darkening as they flicker across the planes of your face. “I wanna, but I don’t want to push this unless you feel the same.”

If your tired heart could vibrate any harder it would probably be bursting out of your chest.

“Well, I feel that we should kiss again,” you press a peck to his cheek hoping it’ll steady your next vulnerable words, “because I’ve thought about you a lot, and I really like this.” You emphasize your words by glancing down at the negative space between your bodies and running your hand up the built expanse of his shoulders.

Humming, he cradles the back of your head, gracefully moving to straddle you and ghost his lips over yours. “In that case, tell me when to stop.” The hot breathy fan of air from his whisper barely hits your cheeks before he’s pressing a deep kiss against your lips.

You slot together like perfect puzzle pieces, limbs finding the just the right spots to fit into. Mouths move desperately, passionately and without thinking your fingers start dancing under the hem of his shirt, brushing against the hot skin beneath. With a tempered groan, he uncouples his lips from yours, kissing along your jaw and quickly moving to trace down your neck. The kitten nips and licks against your collarbone send electricity through your bones, forcing you to flex into him, hips awkwardly jutting forward for something more.

“You… you, ah, are so perfect.” You pant, eyes blinking wide open when the calloused tips of his fingers roughly trail under your shirt, up your sides, stopping just short of your chest to flip your shirt up.

Groaning so quietly you barely hear him, he buries himself between your breasts and sighs against your skin. “Yer even more beautiful up close and without all this,” he pauses for the briefest moment to undo your bra and lift it over your head with the shirt, “extra stuff on.”

Scoffing out a short giggle, you relax back, watching how his eyes drink you in as though they’ve been starved. “By extra stuff you mea-!” The quip is promptly cut off by the feeling of his mouth latching around one breast, the other being tended to by his opposite hand. Not a moment later he pulls away, smiling as you let out a pitchy whine.

“Yer pretty mouthy when yer comfortable, huh?” He mumbles, lips ghosting over your nipple while the one in his hand continues to be teased.

“N-no,” you rush to disagree. Judging by the eye roll he gives you, he doesn’t seem to believe you, but he doesn’t say anything more, simply bringing his attention back to your chest.

The way his suckles tiny, bright purple marks into your skin sends heat pooling into your stomach, hips noticeably grinding up against him now. As the seconds drag on, he doesn’t seem interested in anything other than your tits, enamored with the way they feel in his hand and mouth. It’s almost too much, and you feel your stomach tightening with every moment the teasing continues.

“Samu,” you whine softly, “samu, please, can’t s’too much, really need…” The words are jumbled and garbled. You can’t quite sort your brain to come up with anything coherent, distracted by the wet pooling in your underwear and the weight of his body crowding over yours.

“Sensitive tits?” He coos with a sharp glint in his eyes, gears obviously moving in his head for the future. “That’s okay,” he continues while pressing a soft kiss to each of your breasts, “What do you really need?”

“Need you to touch me.”

For a second, his mouth opens but he doesn’t speak. You fear he’s going to tease you, make you explain in lewd detail how bad you need him and where you want him to touch you, but he doesn’t. He simply nods, truthfully too caught up in the intoxicating feeling of your body and too impatient to feel you for the first time to drag this out.

“Good girl, I’m gonna take these off.” He starts, hooking his fingers under the waistband of your pants and underwear to take them off together. Without hesitation, his eyes travel between your legs. “Such a pretty, little cunt.” He hums already squeezing in between your thighs. Obviously distracted, he peppers little kissed up the sensitive skin on the inside of your thighs, still caught up staring at your soaking mess.

“Samu, please…” You whine. While you know he isn’t purposefully teasing, well you don’t know but you don’t think at least, it’s just as frustrating. Your knees lock around his thick shoulders, pulling him closer to your heat.

“Okay, okay, pretty girl.” He grumbles, lapping right at the crook of your thigh and hip. There’s a split second of tense silence wherein he carefully spread your lips admiring the glisten of your slick under the dim light of the lamp. Your entire body is tense with anticipation, legs shaking as they struggled to spread around his wide frame.

And just like that quiet moment is over - he laps you up so desperately and greedily you’re twitching under his grasp, clawing at the wrinkled bed sheets below you for anything to ground you. He doesn’t stop when he shifts your legs over his shoulders and wraps his hands around the bottom of your tummy to keep your jostling hips in place.

When you finally look back down to grab his hand, keeping a vice grip around his fingers, you also glance down for the first time. His dark, hazy eyes meet yours and you completely relax at last.

The feeling doesn’t last long, not when he pushes his tongue into your tight, unprepared hole, slurping all he can get and pushing in as far as he can go. Osamu’s eyes roll to the back of his head at the sensation, your cum dribbling down his chin and coating up to his nose that keeps brushing against your throbbing clit.

With a solid, squelching pop he tears away from you. “Taste so good,” he heaves, lips coming back even as he’s speaking, ghosting over you. He buries himself in your cunt again, this time focusing solely on your clit, cycling through different motions until he finds the one that makes your hips strain under his sturdy hold.

“Feel so good!” You sigh. “Please, please wanna cum.”

Smirking against you, he takes the hand you’re not clinging to back under your thigh and props it against your ass, slowly teasing a finger in. Absolutely gushing now, it slips in easily. You can feel his smile grow again for a moment before he refocuses on your clit, motions speeding up and increasing the pressure with which he worked. It’s impossible to not shudder under him now, especially with one arm only holding you down.

“C’mon, pretty girl, cum.” He murmurs, easily hooking a second finger into you, pumping and curling them in time with his tongue. As he feels you flutter and cream he can’t help but rut into the mattress, cock swelling from the taste of you. The pressure inside is too much and your want to let go is pushing you closer and closer, although it’s his mouth and fingers that really push you forward.

“C-cu-!” The words get trapped in your throat, overtaken by a hushed moan you struggle to bite back, trying - but very much failing - to be mindful of all the half-sleeping people strewn through the house. He slowly brings you down, fingers winding down and tongue lapping up your swollen clit while you convulse at his touch in time with the fluttering of your cunt.

At last, you have to drag him off, needily tugging up on his hands until he lets go. You try to pull him in to kiss, but he hesitates, his strength far outweighing your weak, blissful one and he hovers above you. There’s no reason to ask because almost immediately his fingers that were inside of you, absolutely drenched, come up to his mouth so he can make a show of sucking them dry for you.

“Taste even better than the stuff you make.” He sighs, letting you drag him down to your face. You can smell and taste yourself so strongly on his damp lips, it clouds your already hazy senses.

“Hmm,” you manage out, when he rests his entire body weight against yours, lips pressed into the side of your head. It’s only when you go to shift that you feel him pressing so incredibly hard and flush to you exposed skin through his soft pants, that you perk up. “Samu,” you begin brushing your fingers through his soft, dark hair, “can I...wanna help you.”

“Mhmm,” he nestles against your neck, kissing over the spots he left behind earlier, “in a minute, pretty girl, we have a lot of time ahead of us.”

[dreadfutures]

WIP Wednesday at BTV: @kita-lavellan | @silvanils | @noire-pandora | @ellie-effie | @musetta3 | @jarakrisafis | @nivenor-krosis | @kittynomsdeplume | @inquisitoracorn | @ohhgren | @medlilove | @morganlefaye79 | @hollyand-writes

And @crackinglamb who also tagged me!

I’ve had a really awful week but I’ve been slowly chipping away at this very important conversation between Ixchel and Solas. And I’d actually appreciate thoughts on this. I’ll just listen to whatever anyone has to say. This is long though so I’m going to put it under the cut.

Question: Specifically, I'm trying to navigate this complicated cause/effect and question of autonomy and individuality in their relationship, which happens to hold the weight of the apocalypse over both their heads in different ways. It is important that they both can operate as they wish, without fearing they will misstep and drive the other away

Ixchel definitely is one of the reasons Solas ultimately confronts some of his stubbornness/willful blindness, as his friend and someone he respects--it’s the way she lives her life and the way she hopes and fights and the world she believes in that ultimately makes him see more paths available than his din’an’shiral. It's not that she loves him or he loves her.

And he's aware that because of so many complications and questions about her resurrection, that she constantly feels like it might indeed be her love--and lovability--that’s holding back the apocalypse. And their relationship will never be equal and truly healthy until she stops carrying that burden. Somehow she needs to learn to trust that he has made his decision and will continue to make decisions based off of himself, and not her.

But also at the same time, he loves her, and she loves him, and they do help each other with like, reinforcing each other's hope, and reminding each other what they're fighting for, that the fight is worth it, and when the other one is tired, being able to prop them up and help them keep going as equals. There are the shadows of her own anxieties and depression that aren't entirely based in reality, but there are also these fears that are so deeply founded in reality. idk.

The Excerpt:

Ixchel and Solas finished bathing and washed their clothes—smiling like the foolish da'lenala neither of them had ever had the luxury to be. She was full of wine and laughter, and she knew that there would only be more waiting back in the Hold.

But as they dried off in the warm evening sun and she thought about the celebration of Hakkon's rebirth, her mind strayed to the name the Spirits of the Basin had given her, and what she had done to earn it. The shock and gratitude she had felt upon hearing herself called 'God-Song' had faded some, and now the chill of anxiety returned to the pit of her stomach. She shivered despite the golden light that surrounded them, and she felt Solas's attention shift from the sky down to her again. He did not speak, but she felt the question in his eyes on her bare back. "Vhenan," she began in a low voice, "should I… The Spirits called to Mythal through me. Was it her power that they summoned with that song? Or my own? Or theirs?" His grip around her waist tightened. "Do not be afraid," he said, but of course that solidified the cold tendrils of anxiety into hard, heavy dread in her gut. "The Spirits here are older than many," Solas said haltingly, "but they are still young. They remember only echoes of…'elf songs,' they call them. The echoes by themselves have power, even if the subjects of the songs cannot hear. That is the power of a prayer, spoken where the Veil is thin." He took a deep breath, and after a moment of consideration he sat up beside her. He rested one arm across his knees and began to trace idle patterns across her cursed forearm with the other. "I do not think she heard you." She stared across at his tense jaw, though his eyes remained on the horizon. "We summoned Flemeth at Mythal's altar in the Arbor Wilds, with a song," she whispered. He tilted his head slightly. "Did you not have the Well of Sorrows in your company?" "Ah." She gave a shuddering laugh as something, not quite relief, swept through her. "That's true." Solas responded with a shallow nod, but then, for a moment, his chest seemed filled with words. She waited, but he did not speak them before sighing again. "What is it?" she asked, and bit her lip. Solas slipped his arm around her waist to shift her closer, and then he sought out the Anchor. He spread her palm open, and with deliberate slowness, he dipped the pads of his fingers into the shining tear of magic her skin. It was as though he might slip through her hand and into the Fade that way. A vicious shudder wracked her frame; the penetration itself felt strange and dull, like a cramp, and yet the magic in her hand came to life with a hot flare. She could see the spirals of his orb across her skin, as she often could if she examined her palm closely, but now she could see the green tendrils of green rift magic as they wound their way up her wrist and her forearm. To her horror, it was clear that the Anchor had embedded itself almost halfway up to her elbow. She could feel Solas draw upon it with his concentration, and yet the reaching veins of the Anchor did not retreat. The damage had been done. Her fingers had curled around his instinctively, until the bones in his hand seemed to creak in protest. "I will not let them have you," he said. The finality with which he spoke made her feel as though he were not quite answering her question. Some other conversation had played out in his mind, and he had come to this answer. She did not know exactly whether he spoke of Flemeth and Mythal, or even perhaps the all-consuming power of the Anchor. She stared down at their joined hands, eyes burning, which was likely a sign that she was too exhausted to handle these conversations. When she heard and saw the resolve in him, she should have been able to stifle the part of her that remembered how he spoke to her of the din'an'shiral he must walk alone. She should not have immediately been afraid that the calculation he had done in his head was about his loyalties. It should have been a settled matter, and yet, still, it was not. Ixchel took a deep breath and tried to swallow that part of her. "I am more concerned about what she might do with you, Solas," she said truthfully. "How did I end up with Old God's spent soul within me? How did he come to possess it, when Mythal had taken it? Was he moving to the beat of her drum—knowingly, or not?" She saw the slightest twitch of his ear and knew that she had touched on a raw topic there, too. But this was a better topic, and one that was just as important for her to know the answer to. "If I have enticed you from the path that she wanted you on… Should I not be afraid, to stand against Mythal?" He turned his head abruptly, and she met his piercing gray eyes dead-on. After a moment's consideration, he reached around her to stroke her cheek gently with the backs of his knuckles. And she knew immediately that he had heard, beneath this line of questioning, the doubt that still ate at her. There was no challenge in his gaze, but the look with which he pinned her was not soft, either. "My loyalty is to our People above all else," he said, to make her heart seize in her chest. He continued in a measured voice that was heavy with blood and wine. "In Wycome. In Halamshiral. In Serault, and Minrathous, in Skyhold, and across the Veil… If Mythal indeed remains, she would not keep me from such a duty. For all the fearsome tales of the Witch of the Wilds, I cannot believe the All-Mother, if she truly remains, would undercut that work." She gripped his hand ever tighter. "And you… You are not afraid of Mythal," he said, a bitter note coloring his words. "You are afraid of walking your path alone. You are afraid that you cannot hold the Dread Wolf at bay with the strength of your love. And you cannot. You have not." His breath was hot across her face as he drew closer—not to kiss her, of course not, but rather as though he might impress upon her the full weight of his words with the strength in his silver eyes. "You are the Champion of the People. You have sworn, and I have believed." He squeezed her hand back, to emphasize his point. "For as long as you hold true to your purpose, you are my Champion, 'ma'lath, 'ma'av'in. But as you insisted, you chose yourself first. You gave yourself a name, decided its meaning." He brushed her hair behind her ear and then settled his hand firmly at the back of her neck, fingers tangled in her hair to hold her, ground her. He gave her the smallest shake. "Let me do the same." Ixchel swallowed. "Hope is a choice," she murmured. "Yes," he replied, "it is. So is trust." He kissed her gently then, and she tried to lose herself to it. The hand at the back of her neck slipped back to her ribs, to pull her close against his chest. She could feel his heart beat steadily beneath their skin, a steady, certain rhythm. She sighed into his mouth, and he hummed in response. "Ir abelas," she whispered as she broke away. They rested their foreheads together, eyes closed. "Do not be," he said, more gently than before. He raised their joined hands between them and traced the scar that ran down her chest, over her heart. "For all your stalwart strength, Ixchel, for all that you have reforged yourself from ruin, you cannot be blamed for fearing the one who shattered you. Especially when you have given him the very tools with which to shatter you again." Ixchel lost her breath as his words impacted her physically, and she opened her eyes to see that he had, too. For a moment, they were no longer silver—but rather they burned with the blue light of a god's power. That terrible gaze was focused on something deep within her chest…something that responded, and reflected his power back at him in painful resonance. "If there is one burden you can put down," he said, voice falling to a lilting whisper, "it is that you still carry the responsibility of the death of a world in your heart. Please… You must know it was not your failure." The magic in his eyes faded, and his lashes flicked up as he caught her staring at him. There were creases of grief at the corners of his eyes. "My mistakes will always be my own." The grief in his face might have seemed incongruent with the hard and heavy weight of his words, but she could feel how they hurt him as much as they hurt her. "I have told you that you have changed everything, but it was not your love for me, nor even my love for you, that has changed my course. It is the harm I have done to the world, the harm I know I might yet do, that stays my hand. Ane mala vasreëm." Perhaps it was the tears he saw well up in her eyes, or maybe it was simply his anxious mind trying to cut off any possible way he could hurt her more than he had already, but his own face was suddenly torn with pain and apology. "In saying this, I might seem to take away from your perceived victory—" "No," she said suddenly. "Solas, I do not need to believe it a war between us." She freed her hands from his so she could brush briefly at her eyes. "Thank you. I have only ever cared for your path as a friend... I love you, but--" she could not stem the flow of her tears, and she laughed at herself.  She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder. He obliged and held her tightly; warm, smooth skin pressed against her rough constellation of scars, and she was enveloped in his smell, his warmth, his magic. She knew that she was safe in his embrace. And she knew that he was right. Perhaps she could have thwarted the Dread Wolf's plans, had she not killed herself. But he had chosen his path, chosen to excise his heart and give it to her, and she had been right to think that to carry it—to redeem it, to return it—was a futile task. Solas had never betrayed her. He had never promised anything. Cole was right: Solas was only ever his own. It was Solas who had watched her walk her path. Solas had chosen to follow, open-eyed. And ultimately, it would be Solas who chose to stay. Life is a story written by two hands, after all.

[moons-and-stars-and-shit]

Good morning, afternoon or night to you! May I request a matchup please?

My name is Ximena, I am an upperclassman in highschool. Pronouns are she/her. I am Mexican-American, fluent in Spanish and English. I am the oldest of my siblings. My zodiac is a Pisces. am 5,2 with an inverted triangle body shape. I'm pale, with natural rosy cheeks. People say I have doe eyes, dark brown. Hair color is the same color and it goes down a few centimeters off the shoulders, but I usually wear it in a ponytail. I am toned, not like a fitness influencer lol.

I am an INFJ. Socializing makes me pretty nervous, but I'll do it if I have to work on a school project or my friends are uncomfortable speaking. I am the "mom" friend of the group, always reminding them to do their work and to take care of themselves. People say I'm sweet and kind for helping them. I do my best to be open-minded and provide realistic advice. My humor is word play, puns and sarcasm. I am a perfectionist, I try my best in everything. I am pretty insecure of myself, very worried about the future and what others think of me. I get irritated if things don't go as planned.

I am dancer, I love every aspect of it. My favorite style would be ballet and my dream would be going professional. I like to read, my favorite genres being fantasy or adventure. In general, I like being active so I enjoy playing sports, mostly tennis though. I like hiking with my dog and nature in general. I treasure deep conversations with my loved ones. I dislike people who are ignorant (any kind of oppression towards minorities), or who complain about work yet they procrastinate. I would rather not publicly speak and despise anything unhygienic. I hate feeling useless or having no motivation.

I hope I didn't overwhelm you with this request. I really enjoy your writing, it's the first blog that caught my eye! Also your layout is lovely and soothing. I hope you are having a great day/night and are doing well 🥰

@magicaldancer5678

A/N- Another matchup that took 500 years to come out 🥲. I’m sorry this took so long! Enjoy ❤️

Asahi Azumane

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐘𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐌𝐞𝐭

oooookkkaaayyyy

So you and Asahi shared some classes together

and you and him got partnered for a project

This kinda made you two HAVE to spend time together and get to know each other

every day you would go over to his house to work on the project

and then you would just hang out with him as friends for a bit before you went home

And when the time came to present your project

Asahi was very impressed with how you could take the lead in the presentation

he just knew that you could be a little shy at times

so he was NOT expecting you to just go up there and present so confidently

but he was a little relieved cuz he do be a shy boi 444

and even after you, two didn't have to work with each other anymore

you both found yourselves hanging out with each other

you and Asahi ended up building a very strong friendship in the time you two spent together

And after some time Asahi started to realize that he had feelings for you

Luckily for him, there was a perfect opportunity to confess to you...

Your upcoming ballet concert

He always showed up to all of your performances

as all good supportive friend should

But he was going to make this one VERY special

He went all out

After your performance (which you rocked by the way)

He gave you a GIANT bouquet of flowers along with a cute little plushy

And he asked you if you would be interested in going on a date with him

oml he just about fainted when you said yes

Ya'll have been a happy couple ever since then

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐀𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮

He loves low you look out for him

Now Asahi is very good at taking care of himself

But we all have our days

And when he has his little off days your always there to take care of him

Whether that be reminding him to drink water or to eat food

Or it be making him take "mental health days"

And since you do all this for him

He makes sure to do his best to take care of you as well :)

He also loves the advice you are able to give him

He doesn't really like to bother anyone with his problems

So it took him a while to start asking you for help with anything

But now whenever he finds himself in a sticky situation

He comes to you for advice

And you always seem to have the perfect solution for him

So he's very grateful for that

And just a quick cheesy one real quick

He loves your eyes

He thinks you can truly see all of your emotions through them

And the way they sparkle in the sun just makes him go 444

𝐅𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐓𝐨 𝐃𝐨 𝐓𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

He loves to read with you

Idk I just got a feeling that he's a really big reader

So just cuddling with you and reading you a book

Bam heaven on earth right there

Omg he LOVES LOVES LOVES to go on hikes with you

Or just walks

He also really likes nature so hiking is super fun for him

Especially if it's with you 444

Finally

You have been trying to teach him Spanish lately

So he really likes spending time with you while learning a new language

And he thinks it's cool that you guys have almost a secret language

Cause not a lot of people at Karasano can speak Spanish

𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐇𝐜

If your wondering you guys got an A on that project

He loves your dog 444

He'll always ask if your dog can come on hikes or walks with you two

Once he learns a little Spanish his new pet name for you is Mi Amor

He's tried playing tennis with you

But he just could not hit the damn ball

He blames it on the ball being too small

He supports your dream about becoming a professional dancer 100%

The entire team always says you too suit each other

𝐀𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐲

When Capricorn and Pisces join together in a love match, on the surface, it may appear to be opposites attracting.

Capricorn is down-to-earth and regimented, with a very strong work ethic

while Pisces tends to be more emotional and dreamy, and takes on the needs of those around them.

This couple is honest, and can be devoted to one another.

They admire one another

Capricorn appreciates Pisces’s kind nature, and Pisces is drawn in by Capricorn’s quick wit and tenacity.

This relationship may develop slowly, the two not necessarily recognizing its progression.

But it will get stronger over time.

The Capricorn-Pisces duo can really put their heads together and can be fulfilled by their partner.

Difficulties can arise if Capricorn is too dominating for Pisces’s sensitive side.

Pisces needs to understand that this is Capricorn’s style and not a personal attack.

Pisces might not take too well to Capricorn’s stubbornness, but can deal with it through patience and understanding.

Pisces enjoys indulging Capricorn through their desire for domestic bliss, which combines well with Capricorn’s need for a neat, tidy home and material goods.

It’s their unique blend of temperaments.

Both partners enjoy sharing their lives with someone else, and both like to help the other achieve their goals.

Their difference in temperaments makes theirs a highly compatible relationship.

𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐀𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜

Aphrodite 💖

[angeloncewas]

i really hate that people (a lot of my mutuals specifically) are saying stuff like "jawsh and noah were right!!" bc like. imo no they werent. you can admit that they had a good point on a different situation or even think like "oh i get where they were coming from now" but that doesnt change the fact that both of their statements came across as ableist then and they still do now, especially bc of their actual actions both before and after that whole situation. stanning someone does not automatically mean being a terrible fucking person and the fact that people who left mcyttwt/switched to subtwts like technotwt for safety think that now somehow blows my fucking mind bc they of all people should understand that you can criticize someone or something without generalizing it or condemning it entirely. also like. it doesnt really matter what terminology you wanna use, calling urself a fan doesnt make you any less of a stan nowadays when the word stan is now used the exact same way as fan so people trying so hard to seperate them bc other stans have given them a bad rep is just weird like why dont you just try and make stans look better instead of shitting on them as if you dont also have a layout for a fucking different minecraft white boy?? the problem isnt even really stans, it's that a lot of mcyttwt is getting shit easy bc their ccs dont call them out when they cross boundaries and when they are called out by other people they automatically get defensive bc people actually being shitty in the past made them think all criticism is hate. idk if this really makes sense im just super annoyed by everyone saying this shit rn like pls how have we done a complete 180 to thinking these two are somehow good just bc theyve made a few okay criticisms?

Exactly ! I understand the want to distance yourself from a community with a bad rep - to be honest, you won't catch me calling myself a "stan" except for as a joke - but that doesn't change the base-level qualifications and the perspective from which Jawsh and Noah are making these statements. Their careers are built on "stans" whether they like it or not - just because theirs aren't cancelling people on twt don't make them any less slash parasocial or hivemind-like - and they'd rather bitch and moan about the current social climate than actually take the time to dissect its flaws, understand the individuals within it, and attempt to foster a better community. No, they throw their hands up and claim that it's "inherently toxic" while the cash filters into their pockets, telling Minecrafters to bend over so that they can fuck them in the ass every time their impressions are low. These aren't empathetic people pointing out serious issues, they've got basic observational skills and a holier-than-thou attitude. I know that what they're saying rings true and it's because twitter users are surrounded by people caught in the thick of it, but that doesn't at all mean that they're on your side.

I'm worried about where this will lead, because mcyttwt tends to have a very black-and-white attitude (as do most people, but they're the focus here) and falling deeply into that kind of mindset - as I said before - is just as unhealthy, if not more so. Hyper-criticism and invasive attitudes toward streamers are a very prevalent problem in the Twitch community (and outside of it) atm, but those issues are so often being pointed out by people who are only angry because they can no longer get away with being racist/sexist/ableist/etc for views.

It's just not an either-or and I really hope that people breaking out of the "stantwt" community don't throw themselves into that side of things just because they see it as the only other option.

[cosmicbash]

no but like oh my god, imagine if kells only has sex with em bc that’s the only way he can think of repaying the rapper??? christ, like, he only thinks of em’s own pleasure instead of his own, using his body as an apology, bc that’s the only way he knows how (i mean there’s his music too, but he thinks em fucking hates his music) ((idk might write abt this, but i kinda want u to kickstart it uknow?))

Yess yess yess I love this.

It starts out as a misunderstanding, of course, because how else would their relationship begin?

A series of short tentative chats that somehow blossom into a full on dinner together, Colson sweating and more anxious than he's ever been in his life. It just doesn't seem real, that not only could he be mending this feud with his idol but also sitting across from him at some fancy restaurant table learning Eminem eats his steaks well done like some child. And laughing about it. 

He's actually laughing. With his idol, his rival, his highschool crush. Long legs kicking out under the table at his own bad jokes, Em half smirking back at him. Their feet brushing one too many times for the color to leave his cheeks even after he's done giggling.

By the time Colson is talking Em into splitting some crazy good looking chocolate cake he actually feels better than he has in years. Since before the beef. So of course something has to go wrong. It really would have to be a dream for things not to sour.

He wants to pretend the first few flirty comments are in his head. That Em reaching across the table to roughly rub some chocolate off his cheek is a Detroit thing. But by the time they're finished eating and waiting for the check Colson's creeping suspicion has turned into full on alarm bells blaring. There's just no way to excuse the nervous looks or Em's almost hesitant invitation up to his hotel room. 

It feels like a slap to the face. Everything suddenly makes sense. Why they're eating in the other rapper's hotel, why Em is even speaking to him. None of this is to repair their relationship or end the beef. It's all just some poorly hidden buttering up before Em asks him to get down on his knees. 

Colson should blow up. He should just lash out and throw his fist into Em's face. Storm out and flag down the valet. He's not some escort that the rapper can rent for the night and feed a fancy dinner to.

But there's that guilty feeling that has settled into the pit of his stomach. The one that's been there since he first lashed out and ruined everything with his diss track, the comments about Hailey, his childish bitching in interviews. It's only doubled since they first sat down to eat. Every muffled chuckle and weakly hidden smile from the older man digging that pit deeper and deeper. Showing him what he carelessly threw away in some desperate grab for attention.

It's got a small voice in the back of Colson's head warning him how if he says no and storms out he's just doing the same thing all over again, cutting Em out of his life. This time possibly forever.

So Colson bites his tongue and nods. His fingers anxiously climbing up into his hair to help hide the guilty look he knows must be on his face when he stutters out a "y-yeah, yeah, sure."

The genuine smile Em flashes back at him at his agreement just feels like a knife being jammed next to the shovel.

How can the man look so fucking blissful about something that feels like borderline blackmail?

But Em does. He looks stunned, downright flustered even at first at his response. Then happy. A happy that isn't hidden by some fake cough or behind a delicate yet strong looking hand for once. It gives Colson something precious to hold onto in the sea of uncomfortable and nasty emotions twisting up his stomach while the older rapper pays. 

The knot just twists itself up tighter once they're in the elevator, his silence thankfully brushed off as nervousness by Em. The almost shy glance of steely blue eyes his way making him feel so small while buttons are pressed. Usually Colson would blame this kind of nausea on the ride itself, but for once his phobia of the small metal deathtraps is actually being overpowered. A new fear worming its way through his guts as each floor number blinks to life.

He doesn't want to freak out. To run away, but hes too goddamn sober for this. Avoiding smoking and turning down the offer of wine at dinner just to try and impress his idol was threatening to be his downfall. If he'd known Em was going to show such little respect and consideration to his being like this he would have lit a fat one up right there at the table. Hell, maybe that would have changed the older man's mind about propositioning him in the first place. Surely a druggie asshole was less appealing to make drop to their knees instead of his current carefully put together primped and meek self.

"Only a few more floors. Don't go green on me just yet Kelly." 

Colson didn't know whether to take the playful nudge as comforting or creepy. Maybe, a little flattering? If Em had actually looked into him enough to learn about his problem with elevators and the man just wasn't guessing off the apparent discolor of his face that is.

"Y-yeah."

Imagining Eminem of all people actually following his interviews or caring about his personal life that much felt like a pipe dream though. 

Outside of the next 20 minutes or however long it took for the bastard to get his rocks off he highly doubted Em would put much thought into his existence at all. Which would be fair. After all the shit he's said and done he really doesn't deserve the time of day from his idol. 

A ding and the elevator doors were opening. Colson's legs feeling numb beneath him when he finally lets go of the railing in the elevator to stumble forward. Thankful that Em's focus was on digging his room's keycard out of his wallet and not his clumsy steps. Each one bringing them closer and closer to their destination, making the whole situation so vividly real he couldn't help but panic again. The other man's forced small talk about how he "Doesn't usually book the penthouse suite-" falling on deaf ears.

It’s ironic, how often he had dreamed for this exact scenario. For Eminem to be leading him up to some fancy high end hotel room, promising to shower him fully in his attention and gaze. Only now, with his dream coming true right before his eyes he can’t help but feel bittersweet about the heated gaze holding him frozen just outside the door. Em’s final offer for him to back down before they both step through the threshold clear as day in the look.

The twist in his gut tells Colson to take it, to just spin around on his heel and run away with his tail tucked between his legs. Accept he’s too much of a coward and too full of himself to actually mend their beef.

But the desperate need he feels for forgiveness and absolvement pushes Colson forward instead. Sheer will alone giving him the confidence to twirl his idols hoodie strings around his fingers to drag Em inside with him. The loud beat of his heart completely smothering the other man’s flustered outburst. 

Just like in church the blonde finds himself on his knees not too long after entering. Mouth open and hands clasped together, ready to ask for forgiveness. Except this god he’s praying to is running it’s fingers through his hair, and there’s a stiff cock separating his palms. A chorus of curses and “Holy fuck, K-Kelly just wait a second, shit, your tongue is-“ tickling his ears instead of hymns.

He’s never sucked a cock before, and it’s embarrassing how quickly he finds himself choking. But Colson doesn’t give up, even when his jaw starts to ache and the grip on his hair grows a bit too tight. His discomfort doesn’t matter here. He just needs to make Em happy, earn the forgiveness he doesn’t deserve.

“Can I- fuck, can I fuck your face?” Both of the older rapper’s palms are holding his bangs away from his face, tilting his head back just enough to force their eyes to meet. The shame in his chest doubles but so does the surprising tightness in his jeans when he sees the uncharacteristic flush to Em’s cheeks.

He isn’t experienced, the smart thing to do would be pull off and admit that. He’s seen first hand how disastrous things can go but his head bobs in a yes anyway. Eyes already starting to water from how the action jabs the other rappers cock right against his gag reflex.

A low groan is all the warning he gets before Em’s fingers are knotting in his hair, forcing his head down to meet the thrust of strong hips. Stuffing that hard dick down his throat so fast it burns and his hands can’t help but flail, helplessly grabbing onto the meat of the older rapper’s thighs through his sweats. Unable to even steal another gasp of air before it happens again. Em’s hips pistoning forward to fuck his mouth like some cheap replaceable toy. 

Even after he gags and gurgles spit the rapper doesn’t stop. 

The harsh pants of praise and encouragement burning his ears just as hotly as the tears in his eyes. “Ah, so good. So fucking good baby, the best, ah-“

Colson doesn’t know what’s worse, how quickly his heart skips at the surprise tern of endearment or how pathetically his cock jerks in his underwear. Not that he has much time to think on it with how Em abruptly forces his face right down to the bone, soft and scratchy pubes tickling his nose. Startling him before the other man’s blowing his load, Colson’s eyes widening and nails cutting deeply into Em’s legs while he chokes. There’s too much, even with his throat reflexively swallowing it still fills up his mouth and bursts out the sides. Dripping down his chin and out onto his shirt when Em finally pulls him off.

It’s salty, and thick. Nothing like the eggnog Rook’s joked to him it tastes like. There’s nothing sweet about this thick cream, even if the lightheaded feeling he’s got from milking it out still makes him feel drunk. 

“Shit. I wanna take a picture.“ Em’s palm is tilting his head back again, dragging his glassy eyes up away from the twitching spit slick cock in front of him. Thumb forcing his tongue down flat to flash what he can only imagine has to be a white mess before the hand in his hair is fumbling out a phone. “Can I?”

He almost wants to laugh at how the brunette doesn’t even wait for his answer before there is the unmistakable flash of a phone light temporarily blinding him. A curse and then another two, these ones at least allowing him the chance to shut his eyes tightly.

The shame within him is boiling, burning through his veins like lava and making his heart drop down into his stomach.

“So pretty-“ Em’s fingers are releasing his tongue and jaw to rake through his bangs yet again. Exposing his face even though Colson wants nothing more than to hide. A stifled sob tearing at his aching throat while he swallows what he can inside his mouth without completely gagging.

He can’t cry. That would ruin the mood wouldn't it? And if it doesn't, Colson doesn't know how he would handle having Em laugh at his tears. The almost soft demeanor and shy quality to his tone is all thats keeping the blonde from running away as it is. 

The shuffle of shoes and curl of strong fingers pulling him up startles Colson's eyes back open. Lashes fluttering to blink away the brief flash of wetness that's blurred his vision before he realizes he's being kissed. That Em's palms are cupping his jaw yet again, helping him to his feet. 

It's scratchy, and softer than he expects. Not that he was expecting Eminem to be kissing him in the first place, but the man doesn't relent. Just keeps kissing him, even after he's grown to his full height and the angle of their heads has switched. Em's tongue snaking its way inside his mouth while they stumble back further into the room. Until Colson's head is feeling fuzzy and his knees weak, the cushioned crash of his body hitting a mattress barely felt.

It feels wrong when Em's hands smooth up over his chest and down inside his jeans. The uncontrollable kick of his hips up into a tight hand around his cock almost blasphemous. There's no reason for Em to even be bothering with touching him there, he doesn't deserve it. But the rapper is sucking and nibbling along his neck, up into his ear to whisper a dozen filthy praises and compliments. None of them possibly true.

"So pretty-" "Perfect-" "Wanted to touch you for so long-" 

"Stop-" Colson's hands feel shaky as they drag his idols face back up to meet his in a messy kiss. Breath tight while he tries to speak between pecks. "Just- fuck, just hurry-"

When he winds up on his stomach some point into the night, Em's too big cock pressing hard against his entrance he can't help but cry out. The pitiful fist he shoves between his own teeth doing nothing to stifle the sound.

It hurts, more than the thin fingers he'd taken only moments prior. But not as much as the soothing shushes and affectionate run of hands through his hair. 

----

(Okay so this has set in my docs wayyyy too long now and you said you just wanted it maybe even as a kickstart so 🤲🤲 here is my humble offering)

[missturtleduck]

idk if this can be triggering but can you maybe do a sokka x reader who’s struggling with mental health? those fics make me feel less alone <33

Hey, anon! I hope you enjoy this oneshot, and know that my DMs are always open <3

The After

Sokka x Reader

TW: Descriptions of panic attacks + mentions of canon realistic injuries

Firebenders rise with the sun. Taking from the power its primal energy, they stayed as close to it as they could get, like child to mother. Waterbenders gained strength under the moon, changing and shifting with its phases as easily as the tides flowed. Earthbenders and airbenders were luckier as they were constantly surrounded by the source of their power, and yet it could be taken away.

Y/N rose when all others were asleep.

It had started at the beach house. Before Ozai was thrown to rot in a jail cell, she couldn’t let herself sleep. Something about staying right under the enemy’s nose made her skin crawl, let alone in one of the beds once occupied by them. The nightmares were horrendous that first night, leaving her to wake in a cold sweat, stifling a scream for everyone else’s sake. Her chest had tightened, throat constricting as if she were being crushed by a python. Y/N’s head went light, and her breathing shallow. Spirits, what was happening?

She needed to get out of there. The white sand under her bare feet grounded her, the salt-scented air opening up her airways. Even Momo, who snuffled from under the duvet to follow her out, licked the tears off of her cheeks, staring at her with those massive, inquisitive eyes. Giggling, Y/N scratched his head, focusing on his purrs.

A solution came to mind; she would stay awake whilst her friends slept. If she was awake, she could prevent them being ambushed, ensure their survival and victory. So, every night, Y/N and Momo sat on the stairs to the beach house, weapons in hand. Under a blanket of starlight, illuminated by Yue’s gentle glow, she would stay until Zuko awoke where she would creep back to bed and catch an hour or two. The beach was lovely to sleep on too, Y/N convincing her friends she was just relaxed.

The oncoming battle was insane, but they made it.

Y/N came out mostly unscathed. Her only physical scars were the burns along her forearms, trophies from her glorious victories against Fire Nation soldiers. Everything was fine – great, even. However, when it came to staying within the walls of Zuko’s palace, other scars came to light.

“Y/N?”

She looked up from her seat on Zuko’s doorstep, eyes glazed over and not quite focused. Taking a moment, the blue in her vision and the low, concerned voice was all she needed to work out who it was.

“Hey, Sokka.” Y/N quirked a smile, resting her cheek against the heel of her hand. “What’re you doing up?”

“I could ask the same of you,” He said, raising an eyebrow.

Patting the floor next to her, Y/N welcomed him to join her. As soon as Sokka was sat by her, her head tilted until it rested on his shoulder, her body relaxing in a sigh that took with it all of her energy. Frowning, he wrapped an arm around her, chin atop her head until they were practically tangle.

Sokka was warm, warm enough to sooth her into something close to sleep. Beneath closing, fluttering lashes, Y/N watched the steady rise and fall of his chest, moving past his still broadening shoulders to look at the gardens. It was later than she had thought as she looked at the turtle ducklings snuggled up with each other on the grass, their mother close by. The way the turtle duck stayed only inches from its children, half-awake and protective.

Y/N shot up. “I can’t fall asleep.”

“What do you mean?” Sokka yawned, nuzzling his head against her neck. “I could fall asleep right here.”

“No!” She shoved off of him, unsheathing her blade. “I can’t fall asleep, because if I do, Zuko’s in danger! The Kyoshi Warriors aren’t here yet, and I’m not risking his safety again!”

Sokka’s eyes widened as he rose slowly to his feet, hands out. “Okay, Y/N. We can stay here if you want, but you don’t need your sword out.”

Breathing hard, she absorbed the emotions on her friend’s face, realising the fear in it. Clattering to the floor, the sword slipped from Y/N’s hand as she began to tremble. As tears began to pour, Y/N couldn’t reach for the Ember Island sand, nor the open sky, and not even Momo. A crushing pressure pushed on her chest, leaving her gasping for breath that seemed stolen from her. Seeing how her hands shook, she looked at Sokka.

“I’m so tired, Sokka.”

Stepping towards her, he tested the waters, placing a hand on her shoulder. With no outwardly negative reaction to it, Sokka engulfed Y/N into a hug. Gripping his shirt into her hands, she shook out shallow breaths, trying to ground herself as she focused on the feelings around her. Sokka’s gentle hand threading through her hair was rhythmic, methodical even, and the shirt on his chest was soft in her grip.

As her breathing levelled, Sokka pulled away from their embrace, taking a gentle hand to cup her cheek. Brushing away stray tears with his thumb, he studied her face with such care. Y/N stifled a giggle.

“What?” He grinned at her. “You don’t laugh at my jokes, but you’ll laugh now?” Leaning into his hand, Y/N gave him a watery smile. “I’ve never seen you so careful with something that isn’t your boomerang.”

Sokka gasped, scandalised. “I am very careful, I’ll have you know.”

“I’ve seen you walk into a canal because you were too busy impressing a girl.”

“That was different,” He huffed, crossing his arms and leaving her cheek feeling suddenly cold. “I can be careful whilst impressing a girl.”

Y/N sniffed. “Oh, yeah? Prove it.”

His grin made her wonder whether she should have challenged Sokka, but it was too late as he hoisted her up into his arms, protests or weight be damned. Since his broken leg had healed, and he had more time to grow into his shoulders, he had only gotten stronger, and Y/N had only gotten more bashful about the fact it was harder to see him as just a friend.

The guards seemed unwavering at the sight, Y/N only catching a single smirk as she was carried away from Zuko’s quarters and towards the kitchens. Only when Sokka had decided the coast was clear did he finally put her down, placing her up on one of the countertops.

“What are we doing here?” Y/N asked, going to slide down to the floor.

Sokka’s hand stopped her, firm on her knee. “You haven’t been sleeping properly, so I’m gonna make us some tea!”

“You? Tea?”

“Yeah,” He said, hand still on her as he rummaged through shelves of dried herbs. “Iroh taught Zuko, who taught Katara, who ranted to me a lot about some medical nonsense, but I picked some stuff up.”

“Please don’t poison us,” She laughed, placing a daring hand over his.

He looked up at her, deadly serious. “No promises.”

Snorting a laugh, Y/N pushed down the clingy need to whine as he moved away from her, watching Sokka begin to heat tea. In the water, he strained some brown roots and dried purple flowers into the water. It didn’t look like poison, and it certainly didn’t smell like it. Nevertheless, she found some joy watching him focus on the tea, tongue stuck out to the side as he did.

After a few minutes, Sokka had served the tea in cups he had swiped from another cupboard. Tapping their cups together, they both took a sip.

“It’s certainly...” Y/N grasped for a word, “Memorable.”

“It’s not as good as Iroh’s, that’s for sure,” Sokka frowned, but still sipping at the tea.

“I like it,” She beamed, basking in the warmth of the herbal blend.

The smile on his face made her comment worthwhile. Tentative, he took a step towards her, placing his cup down at her side. “Do you feel better?”

“A little bit,” She said, looking down into the remains of her tea.

“I know you haven’t been sleeping properly for a while, but I didn’t know it was this bad.”

Y/N startled. “W-what do you mean?”

“Y/N, I’m not just a pretty face,” Sokka smirked, though it fell into concern near immediately. “Do you not remember ending up in your bed every time you fell asleep on the beach?”

Huh. She did remember that.

“I’d always assumed I had made my own way there and was too tired to remember.”

There was that hand again, soft against her cheek. “I’m not gonna leave my best girl to sleep on sand.”

“Oh.”

“Hey.” His voice brought her gaze to his eyes. “Can I kiss you?”

She nodded. His lips ghosted hers. The kiss tasted of bitter valerian root and was all the sweeter for it. She leaned into the warmth of his touch, feeling more content then than she had in months. Smiling against his lips, Y/N snaked her hand up the back of his head to untangle his hair from its wolf tail, running her fingers through it. Sokka only seemed more enthusiastic as he pulled her closer until she was flat against him on the very edge of the counter.

For a moment, he pulled away, and she couldn’t help the small whine that escaped her lips. “You need to sleep.”

“What?” She barked out a laugh. “You go from kissing me to saying I should go to sleep? I wasn’t that bad.”

“No! No, no, no,” Sokka said, panic overtaking his face. “I just worry about you, Y/N.”

Nuzzling into his neck, she grinned. “I could sleep right here.”

“Could we at least move to somewhere comfier?” He whined, wrapping his arms around her. “My room has a sofa I could take.”

Y/N looked at him. “And a double bed.”

With a low laugh, Sokka pecked a kiss on her nose. “Sure.”

Despite the laughs - and the kisses - Sokka made it known that he could be her safe space, and was happy to be it for her.

[autisticcassandracain]

The only one I can really think of is Batman: Prodigal. Granted, Dixon wrote most of it and Alan Grant seemed to care about making the story cohesive so it was more put together than most crossovers. But even Prodigal went on waaay too long because they really had to squeeze 3 months’ worth of issues out of 4 separate books. Like I thought things might be wrapping up around when they defeated Two Face and it just??? kept going??? for five more issues??? I can’t think of any good reason why such a small-scale story should be so long. I haven’t read No Man’s Land yet and I’ve heard mixed reviews but you’ve made me more optimistic, so thank you for that

I haven't read Batman: Prodigal and I'm probably not going to for a while bc I've been really burnt out on Dixon (like you CANNOT escape the guy he seems to have written every batbook in the late 90s-early 2000s let me REST) so I can't agree or disagree with you there but that does seem to be a bit of a common problem with crossover events tbh. a lot of the time the pacing is one of the worst parts of them.

and No Man's Land definitely has its issues; I read the trade paperback so I wouldn't have to hunt down every single individual issue and it's been a while since I've read the latter half of it (bc it's so LONG jesus christ) but even the first half has problems. the thing is that it's so long that it's got several 'arcs' and mini-stories within it, so even when some stories are like, drenched in ableism or copaganda or relying on this weird idea No Man's Land has that all the people would completely loose all common sense/revert to some pre-modern knowledge state (idk how to explain it otherwise it's weird) or something, others may be better. You also need to be willing to have quite a bit of suspension of disbelief about the whole situation because it really doesn't make any kind of logical sense. So that all said I think mixed reviews make sense, your enjoyment on the event is very much based in whether you can suspend your disbelief and find enough mini-arcs you enjoy.

That said I was really impressed with their ability to make this premise work at all, on literally any level, because by all rights and logic it REALLY shouldn't have. It did have some ideas and views that I don't really agree with (one that comes to mind was that one time Superman visited and tried to help but was rebuffed bc ~the people weren't ready~, which was dumb as fuck and an obvious attempt to try and explain why other heroes weren't helping that royally backfired and really broke my immersion), but it also had some ideas and moments that I thought were really good (Poison Ivy helping kids and eventually helping to supply fresh produce, the way the internal economy of Gotham City ended up developing during No Man's Land, Cass's introduction, the way they interpreted Barbara's/Oracle's roll in a city with very limited technology and broken infrastructure, etc.)

I think having low expectations going in helped, but I also think there was some genuine effort put into worldbuilding this effectively post-apocalyptic version of Gotham City, which helped it all feel a lot more cohesive to me than most crossover events I've read; it felt like someone set up the rules for No Man's Land Gotham and everyone, even the arcs/issues that I think were shit, played within those rules. (Obviously idk what the writing process was actually like but that's what it felt like to me.) I completely understand why some people don't like it, but I still think what they managed to accomplish was impressive when frankly the idea should've crashed and burned before it even started. I think that's the reason the good moments stick in my mind more than the bad. In my opinion it's worth a read if ur at all interested, just to form your own opinions on it.

[mandadoration]

skip tracer

Summary: anon asked: “ummmm can we get back to mando!reader and bounty!din because idk maybe the ship breaks down and you’re stuck together until someone comes and gets you and the two of you grow close and he tries to you almost let him take your helmet off” 

word count: 4, 642

pairing: bounty!din djarin x mandalorian!reader

Warnings: swearing, sexual tension, making up mechanical jargon

a/n: Changed the wording a little, but essentially the same idea. “Mando”, in this fic, is referring to the reader. There’s a bunch of small time skips (moments later to several hours) because I’m sure you would appreciate it all at once instead of multiple chapters, but also for my sanity. 

Another important note the Din is younger than he is in the series, just because there are a lot of really important things that happen in the canon that I don’t want to just… skip over? (Baby Yoda, Moff Gideon, etc.) I haven’t decided on a particular age, but it’s not too drastic. 

Read this on AO3

The first words you say to Din Djarin are, “Shit.” 

If it weren’t for the fact that you were trying to get the ship’s repulsors back online, you would’ve seen how his eyebrows shoot up, disappearing under the mess of greasy curls at your expletive. He leans forward in his seat a little, cuffs clanking as he tries to peer over your beskar-clad shoulder at the console beeping angrily at you. There’s a fuel leak or wiring problem or something because you’re watching the power drain rapidly right in front of your eyes. You try to stop whatever the massive drain is or turn off non-essentials and reroute the power to your engine, but nothing works and all that does happen is a massive shuddering throughout the entire ship. Your ancient, pre-Imperial gunship, the Skip Tracer, sputters and soon, the entire ship goes dark. 

The second words you say to Din Djarin are, “Fuck.” 

Luckily, the backup generators kick in, bathing the entire ship in low, orange light and making sure you don’t suffocate to death in the cold recesses of space. You sit there for a moment, staring blankly out the windows of your ship at the stars in the distance, and realize that you’re essentially stuck here unless a stray ship flies by and takes pity on you. 

Yeah, like would happen. 

Your bounty’s dry voice interrupts your internal monologue. “This happen often?” he asks. His voice is much too close for your tastes, so you stand up abruptly and push him back into your seat, scowling under your helmet at his smug face. He doesn’t look fazed at your harsh treatment, and his gaze follows you as head over to the mainframe to run a diagnostics check. “All I’m saying is, why do you fly this piece of junk when you’re the fabled ‘Mandalorian’?” Din continues, making air quotes to the best of his ability with his hands bound. His tone is disdainful. “Maker knows those Imps pay you enough…” Your hand hovers over the screen.

“I don’t work for them,” you say stiffly. 

“But you do business with them,” Din points out. You press a few buttons with more force than necessary and turn back to face him while your system runs a full ship scan. He’s sitting languidly in his seat, as if he owns the place, and stares straight at you. If he’s surprised you’re finally entertaining his small talk, he doesn’t show it. “You’re bringing me in, aren’t you?” You tilt your head as you consider the implication of his question. 

“It doesn’t matter who called you in. I’m just--”

“--doing your job,” Din finishes. A bored look flits across his face and smothers the hard set lines of his face as he motions around the Skip Tracer. “You can hardly do that if your ship doesn’t work now, hm?” You roll your eyes and resist the urge to gag him. The mainframe beeps behind you to indicate that the scan was done. You give him the best warning glare you can with a helmet over your head, and turn back to read the report. 

The hyperdrive had drained a massive amount of power from your ship during your last jump, resulting in it overheating and affecting the surrounding parts as your coolants worked overtime to try and get it under control, but you don’t remember the last time you had taken a look at that particular mechanism, meaning that there was only more overheating and possible melting and fraying of the internal wiring. As your ship tried its best to repair what it could, it had only drained the remainder of the power. You didn’t have any spare jumper cells either. 

In summary: not good. 

You heave out an annoyed sigh before plopping back in your seat and trying to get your comms working. It takes some time, and you end up having to pull the heating down a little to even turn them on. The best you can do is send a weak, short-range emergency call. 

“What now?” Din asks. Despite him trying to appear standoffish and generally seem like a prick, you can pick out the uncertainty in his voice. No one in the galaxy wants to be stuck in the cold recesses space, especially with an unsavory companion. You settle in your seat and swivel your chair to face him. 

“Now we wait.”

--

At some point you had fallen asleep in your chair while you were patiently watching your bounty, but you peel open your eyes when you hear a quiet shuffling of clothes and the quiet thump of heavy boots. A quick glance at the time shows that nearly an hour has passed since the ship lost power. 

“What are you doing?”

Din nearly jumps out of his skin, halfway to the door with wide eyes and a hand raised towards the controls. You haven’t noticed until now, but without his weapons, Din really looks like any other human you might see in the galaxy. His cinnegar weave armor has been dyed a dark brown and covered with a jacket to be more discreet, and the tan collar of his shirt peeks out of his scarf. He hardly looks like he’s worth the price on his head. 

You don’t do anything, merely watching how his throat bobs when he tries to think of something to say. He smoothly slides on a mask of indifference that almost impresses you as he straightens up. “Looking around,” he answers. In the dim lighting, you can barely pick up how his ears turn red at the tips. 

“Mhm,” you hum, leaning forward and resting your elbows on your knees. You fix him with a hard stare. “I’ll ask you again, and don’t even think about lying: What are you doing?” An almost pained expression crosses Din’s face before disappearing again. A moment. He mumbles something. “What?” Din looks annoyed. Then a little louder, he mumbles--

“I need to use the refresher.” Immediately, his stomach grumbles. “And I’m hungry,” he sighs. You’re glad he can’t see the amused expression under your helm because you’re sure he would’ve said something snarky about it. 

“What were you going to do about that?” Sure, you might be riling up Din, but with the undetermined amount of time you were going to stay with him, you might as well get some entertainment. 

“I was going to leave.”

“Doors are locked.”

“I would’ve found a way.”

“You don’t know where the food is stashed. Or if I even have any.”

“Would’ve looked. I would assume you eat as well.”

“Did you expect me to stay asleep?”

“Didn’t hurt to try.”

“How do I know you wouldn’t have tried to find a weapon to kill me?”

“You don’t.”

He says his last answer so smoothly and without hesitation that it catches you so off-guard you can’t help the short laugh that escapes you. You shake your head as you stand up, and although Din leans away, you press a button on your vambrace and the door wooshes open. You motion for him to go. “Bounties first.” Din rolls his eyes and turns to head down the ladder. It’s awkward with his hands bound, but he makes it in due time and watches you warily as you climb down as well. “I’ll make something for us to eat. Use the ‘fresher in the meantime.” He raises a brow, but an easy smile graces his lips. 

“I’m surprised you’re even offering me food,” he snorts. You shrug. 

“Don’t know how long we’ll be out here. You’re worth more money alive,” you reason. “Can’t have you starving.” At the mention of what he’s actually here for, Din’s face falls. He clears his throat. 

“Right,” he says. And turns into the cramped refresher and closes the door without saying anything else. While he does that, you dig through your compartments for rations. Without adequate power, you can’t reheat your food, and you don’t want to risk trying to reroute power in case the air recycler cuts off. Hopefully, Din likes shredded bantha meat and Meilroonian pepper sauce. You shake your head. Not that it should matter. He should be grateful you’re feeding him at all. Whether or not he’s picky bears to significance to you. 

As you contemplate how he still will undoubtedly complain about the lack of choices, a loud racket sounds from the refresher followed by a loud swear. You toss the ration packets onto a nearby table and huff as you rip open the door to the refresher. Din lets out a loud sound of protest at that, trying to scramble to pull his pants back up over his hips, but steps on a stray bottle in his panic and starts tipping backwards. You grab the collar of his shirt to prevent him from cracking his head on the rim of the vactube. He stares at you with wide eyes before clearing his throat. 

“You ever hear of knocking?” he asks. You haul him up to his feet, but don’t step back as you look at the mess he made in your refresher. A couple of things that were on your sink and shelves, admitted haphazardly, were knocked over and the sonic shower door was open. From how close you are, you can tell Din is struggling to find your eyes, gaze roaming over your face to try and pinpoint them. 

“You ever hear of not making a mess?” you shoot back. 

“Hard to do that when your hands are bound,” Din says, shaking his cuffs for emphasis. 

“Could’ve asked.”

“Would you have?”

“No.”

“Then why’d you-- Nevermind.” Din breaks his gaze from you to stare at his shoes. You tilt your helmet, but press a button on your vambraces and the cuffs fall off. His head shoots up with a questioning look.

“I imagine you were going to complain about eating with your hands bound, too,” you say dryly. You step away from him and pick up the cuffs. “Clean up your mess,” you order him. Din doesn’t look happy, but eventually nods. “And pull up your pants.”

He definitely doesn’t look happy at that. 

---

You had retreated into the cockpit to eat your meal with a warning to Din that you will not hesitate to kill him if he tried anything while he was unsupervised; you had left before he can hit you with another sarcastic comment. You made quick work of eating, keeping an ear out for any suspicious sounds, but found none and soon went back down to the hull only to see Din Djarin sitting on the floor and picking at his food with a displeased face. “This is disgusting,” he announces. 

“How did I know you were going to say that?” you sigh. You wish you could run a hand over your face, but resort to leaning against the wall with your arms crossed. It was pretty gross, you won’t lie. The sauce was a cold, congealed mess, and the bantha meat was horribly tough. “It’s that or nothing.” He looks like he desperately wants to say something, but eventually spoons another bite into his mouth. 

“Any updates?” he asks. You shake your head. 

“No. Was going to check if I can somehow figure out what was draining the power. See if that fixes the problem,” you say. He makes a small hum of acknowledgement. Then, a pensive expression crosses his face. Din chews thoughtfully for a moment. 

“Mando?”

“Hm?”

“Is it true that Mandalorians can’t take off their helmets?” he asks.

“We can. Just not in front of other people,” you answer almost automatically. It’s a question you often get. 

“How much are you getting paid to bring me in?” You look at him. Not the smoothest segway in the galaxy.

“I don’t bargain with bounties, if that’s you’re wondering,” you say instead. Din curls his lips and pushes the food around with his fork. 

“Wasn’t going to bargain,” he mumbles, “just wondering.” He stabs his food aggressively. The  frown sours his face. “Wouldn’t expect an Imperial sympathizer to bargain anyways,” he says bitterly. You clench your fists, the leather of your gloves creaking, as you stand up straight. Din doesn’t look up from his food, but you can tell he knows that your temper is rising from how he grips his ration packet a little tighter. 

“Told you before,” you grit out, and you’re glad the modulator hides how your voice trembles the slightest, “I’m just doing my job.” Din jumps up and throws his food down, splattering cold Meilroonian pepper sauce over the floor of the Skip Tracer as his eyes flash in anger.  

“And by doing so, you're just as bad as them!” he protests. He pushes his curls back with a gloved hand frustratedly. “I was doing something, trying to take them down, and you’re practically delivering me to them on a silver platter!” Din stomps up to you until you’re nearly chest to chest. From here, you can see the scars adorning his face, including one that splits his right eyebrow neatly in half. “I thought Mandalorians were supposed to be good,” he hisses. “But instead I see that the little creed you follow has changed.”

“And what do you know about Mandalorians?” you snarl at him. You move forward and force him to take a step back. “Hm? Din Djarin?” You practically spit his name. How dare he question the Way of the Mandalore. “What does a mercenary know about Mandalorians?” His angry expression falters, but he stays silent. “Tell me.” Nothing. His mouth is set in a hard, straight line. “All you are is a glorified rebel, thinking that you can take down a hundred people when all you are is a nuisance, a pain in their ass.” Din’s back hits the opposite wall where you’ve practically cornered him, defiance burning bright in his eyes next to a hint of fear. In the back of your mind, you know that’s not true, that Din Djarin was a hated name within the small circles of Imperials, but he seems to curl within himself when you demean him. Your shoulders fall as you force in a deep breath, and you push the heavy metal cuffs into his hands. You’ve hit a sore spot. “Clean up your mess,” you order in a low voice, the second time today, “and cuff yourself. I’m done entertaining you for the night.” 

Then you head up the ladder to the cockpit. Halfway up, you look at him over your shoulder. “There’s a cot over there. Try anything and I’ll find a way to put you in carbonite.” Your threat holds well because Din Djarin doesn’t say another thing, instead scowling at you as he stays rooted in place. 

---

Sleep is fitful for you that night, and it doesn’t help that you keep your helmet on just in case Din does try something. Even after all these years it’s awkward to lay down with it on. Waking up isn’t much better, seeing as you only got in a few hours, but you flush with hot anger when last night’s conversation pops up again. You instead decide to busy yourself with fiddling with the console.

You try to extend the range of the emergency signal, but nothing happens and the console beeps sadly at you. You really hope someone drifts by. Honestly, you’re not sure how many rations or how much water you have left, but you do know you certainly don’t have enough to sustain two adults for long. If it comes down to it, you’ll have to try and directly look into the mechanics of your ship. You really don’t want to do that seeing as one wrong move and you’ll be sent into the cold vacuum of space before you can think twice. Despite having the Skip Tracer for a while, you don’t know much about it. The first thing you would do after collecting Din’s bounty is dropping your ship off at a mechanic and sticking around to figure out more about it. You falter. 

You don’t know why, but the reminder that all Din is is a bounty fills you with some upset despite his scathing remarks. His witty and spitfire attitude was certainly a nice change of pace from the blubbering, begging bounties or the overly-aggressive ones that literally spit at you. But you desperately need the few ingots of beskar promised to you, and with how the ship was malfunctioning, those credits are sorely needed as well. You just need to remind yourself that Din Djarin was just another paycheck. 

Speaking of, you can hear him climbing up the ladder to the cockpit, and you try to busy yourself. The door opens, but you don’t say anything, pressing a few nonsense buttons. Seems like he couldn’t sleep either. Din hovers somewhere behind you, and in the faint reflection of him in the window, you can see he looks unsure of himself. He wants to say something. You let him flounder. Eventually he gathers the courage to say whatever is on his mind.

“The Death Watch.” 

You suppress the urge to spin around, instead tilting your head for him to elaborate. 

“I… I knew the Death Watch.” You rest your hands on the console board, minding any switches that may drain more power. 

“The Death Watch disbanded years ago. You would’ve been a child if you knew them,” you finally say, keeping your voice as toneless as possible. You were a child when you knew them. But they were no more, split apart and forced underground to continue your way of living. 

“I was a child,” he says. “They helped my village a long time ago.” You wonder for a brief moment if there was a possibility you knew him, even through a few degrees of separation, but you stamp that thought out. There was no time to form attachments or even entertain that thought. “So what do I know about them? That much.” His voice is thought, but can hear an edge of challenge. “You guys were… I looked up to the Mandalorians.” You clench your jaw. 

“What changed?”

“You.” You laugh bitterly as you finally turn your seat around to face Din where he stands in the doorway, cuffs obediently on his wrists. 

“Sorry for ruining that for you,” you say, so very ingenuously and not at all sorry. You tap your fingers impatiently against your knee. “Did you need something or are you just here to try and make me feel guilty?” Your head hurts just watching how hard Din rolls his eyes. 

“I’m here because I’m hungry,” he says bluntly. You can tell from his tone that this isn’t really the case, but you’re glad for the change in subject. You aren’t exactly the best conversationalist, and neither of you want to argue again it seems like. “And I believe that you’ll carry out your threat if I start snooping around so,” he shrugs his shoulders, “here I am.” You look at him for a little bit, just enough to make him shift where he stands and look uncomfortable. “What?”

“You would be very bad at sabacc,” you note mildly, ignoring his offended expression as you get up and brush past him to get to the hull to scavenge for something that could be palatable cold. 

“You’ve never seen me play,” Din protests as he scrambles after you down the ladder. You nearly laugh at the indignation in his voice. “So how can you--” His foot slips off the rung, and with his limited movement, he fails to try and catch himself, grip slipping in surprise as he gasps. Luckily, you’re there at the bottom to catch him, hooking your arms under his knees and beneath his shoulders with a soft grunt. 

“Don’t need to,” you say. You lean in a little closer, tilting your head down to make it obvious you were looking straight at him. “You are very easy to read.” He scowls up at you, but you see how his ears turn red. Din is a comfortable weight in your arms, and you think for a second he looks surprised you don’t even look like you’re straining to hold him up. 

“Put me down.”

“Okay.” 

And you drop him. He blinks up at you with a grimace from where he is on the floor. But Din Djarin cannot stop surprising you because he breaks out in a bright, charming laugh, smile lines forming and crow’s feet at the corner of his eyes, pulling at the scars on his face, and the warm sound of it fills the ship. It’s a striking difference from the mood just minutes prior, and definitely a difference from a couple hours ago. You can’t help it, but you laugh as well. You gently poke him with the tip of your boot before turning around to pull out rations. 

“Please tell me it isn’t whatever we had yesterday,” Din says from the floor. You toss the packet over to him, landing square on his chest. 

“It’s not. But I doubt it’s much better,” you admit. “Now get up so I can go eat.”

You’re already in the cockpit and locking the doors behind you when Din calls up to complain that you haven’t unlocked his cuffs. It’s a conscious choice to ignore him.

---

It’s been 0900 standard hours since your ship broke down in space somewhere in the Mid Rim, and Din Djarin is starting to go a little stir crazy. 

“Will you stop pacing?” you ask him, annoyed. After your meal, you had stayed up in the cockpit thinking about whether or not you should charge Greef Karga extra to cover the cost of repairs and emotional labor of being trapped with your bounty. Din had quickly grown bored waiting in the hull and made his way into the upper level, knocking incessantly and asking you to open the doors. After a few minutes, you had grown tired of it and opened the doors without warning, resulting in him literally falling in. He seemed to do that a lot, and you wonder how he went this long without somehow falling into a hole or off a cliff and killing himself in the process. 

But Din doesn’t stop pacing, instead he speeds up. Because of the small space, it’s comical how often he has to turn around on his heel to walk in the other direction. The length of his stride means that he only gets a few steps in every rotation. “Has no one picked up our signal?” he asks. You sigh. 

“No. And sit down.” You’re surprised Din hasn’t made himself dizzy. 

“Have you tried--”

“Anything you’re about to say, yes,” you interrupt. You’ve tried every possible thing to try and extend the signal or just get transmissions going besides actually opening up the ship from the inside. You aren’t that desperate yet. “Din. Sit down.” He, unsurprisingly, doesn’t stop. 

“How long do you think we can stay out here?” You roll your eyes. “Supplies only last so long, and I don’t even know how long the backup power supply will last.” Maker, he’s really working himself up, isn’t he? 

“If we have to worry about supplies, I’ll just put you in carbonite to save us the trouble,” you say bluntly. 

“If you even have the power for it!”

“I told you, I’ll find a way. Now. Sit. Down.” 

He opens his mouth to say something probably infuriating again, but before he can, you reach forward and grab him by the front of his belt and haul him into your lap. His teeth clack together as he audibly closes his mouth, a flush overtaking his face. Din tries to lean back as far away as he can, but you keep your hands firm on his waist, meaning he has to hold onto the front of your beskar chestplate to keep from falling backwards. It’s a tight fit seeing as you take up most of the seat and Din is by no means a small man, but you look up at him. “People travel all the time through the Mid Rim,” you say slowly, trying to put as much calm as you can knowing that a lot of it will be lost in the modulator. Hopefully it doesn’t come across as condescending.  “Someone will eventually notice that the ship is just drifting here or pick up the signal any time now.” He’s still tense, shoulders nearly at his ears as he stares at you with wide eyes. You reach around his waist to press a button on your vambraces to unlock the cuffs, and you slide it off his wrists and drop it on the floor. His hands immediately go to your shoulders, but he does seem to settle down a little. “So relax.” Din’s grip on your shoulder tighten a fraction. 

“Hard to do that when I-I’m in your lap,” he chokes out. If only he can see your grin. Instead, you bring him closer to you, taking delight in the small squeak he gives. 

“You complaining?” If anything, Din blushes impossibly brighter. 

“I--”

“Shh, you hear that?” He obediently shuts his mouth and listens for a moment. 

“No?” You lean back in your chair. 

“Exactly. Blessed silence.” Din scrunches up his face. 

“You’re… insufferable,” he announces. You shrug. 

“I know.” 

And now the conversation has lulled, but Din Djarin makes no move to get off your lap. The beskar thigh plates are digging into you, and it surely can’t be a comfortable seat. Still, the two of you stay where you are. Din licks his lips. “You said that you can’t take off your helmet, right?”

“Not in front of another living being,” you say. 

“When’s the last time anyone saw your face?” he asks. “Has- has anyone seen your face?” There’s an undercurrent of uncharacteristic shyness, almost anxiety as he asks you. You pause. You really shouldn’t entertain your bounty, but--

“Not since I was a child.” He frowns. “I wasn’t born with a helmet on, if that’s what you’re wondering,” you add.

“Sounds… lonely,” he says slowly. You shrug. 

“This is the Way.” Why was he even asking about this? If he knew the Death Watch, then surely he must’ve been somewhat familiar with the Ways of the Mandalore. He even had the nerve to chastise you about it. You don’t have to ask him because now his warm hands are trailing from your shoulders closer to your neck, eventually coming to a pause right on the underside of your helmet. It’s a slow, deliberate movement, and Din’s face is the softest you’ve ever seen it. He starts to push it up. 

But your hands leave his hips and snatch his wrists to stop him just as the console beeps. 

“Skip Tracer, this is the Andaloriaan Sea. We read your distress call,” comes the horrifically crackly and barely understandable voice. “Locking you in and taking you to the closest star port. Standby.” You gently pull his hands down, and Din slides off your lap as an unreadable mask slides on his face to hide whatever he’s feeling. He stands in the doorway for a moment, but ultimately turns back around and heads down to the hull without a word. You start to formulate your next plan of action. You would cuff him and keep a close watch on him while the mechanics work on your ship, then fly back to Nevarro to turn Din Djarin in, tell Greef Karga you expect extra for travel fees and repairs, collect your payment, then move on to the next bounty, the next paycheck. You would forget the nearly 1000 standard hours you spent trapped in space with him. 

But things never really go exactly according to plan. 

---

a/n: More stupidly strong readers >:) bc reader is definitely the top in this relationship.

Fun fact! The Andaloriaan Sea is what I was going to initially name Reader’s ship before I changed it to Skip Tracer. 

--

Forever Tag: @mabelleen​ @mando-vibes​ @isaissafail​

[lampd-intheface]

vampire LAMP au

okay but like imagine a vampire au with polysanders except virgil is the only human???

roman got bitten by a vampire in italy just for kicks and then he was left to his own devices. he had to suffer through the shift alone with nobody to help him

for a little while, he was ravenous and accidentally killed a lot of people. in the end, tho, he snapped out of it and taught himself how to control his hunger

roman lived through the italian renaissance and moved between italy and spain (which is why he can speak really good spanish/italian) and even settled down a little in england for some time too

when roman settled down in england, he met patton who'd been a vampire for a while now

patton became a vampire becos he was hit with the plague and his mother was desperate to find a cure. this vampire they met ended up helping and then taking patton under his wing

roman and patton eventually find themselves in america (which was still a pretty new country at the time)

logan lived during the industrial era where everyone was just inventing things left and right and it was booming in terms of science and machinery

he was turned becos a vampire thought his genius was too valuable and death shouldn't put a stop to logan who had a lot of potential

the three then settled down in america

roman made some money writing fantasy books under pseudonyms. logan made money through patents or really any kind of intellectual work he could find. patton spent his time at home, just helping out and taking care of roman and logan

they had to move often, of course, becos people would be suspicious if they just stayed in the same place for too long. they couldn't get attached to people either becos getting attached to people meant people who would keep track of them

after all of their years being alive, patton and logan and roman have amassed enough money that they're just chilling and living comfortably

now, it's the modren era and, in this au, all of them either have online classes and/or night classes

virgil takes night classes and online classes because it limits his social interaction with other people and he's much more comfortable interacting with smaller groups of classmates (night classes)/not physically interacting with classmates at all (online classes)

the others because well duh they're vampires

it's not becos they dont like sunlight (they can be exposed to a little but too much gives them rashes). it's just that it's easier to keep a low profile if they interact with less people

logan is really the only one seriously taking classes and not for any other reason than because he loves learning. patton and roman will take classes here and there but only for their hobbies

insert virgil. i haven't thought this one through but logan probably meets him first because they share a class together.

anyway, LAMP have a meet cute or whatever

maybe like virgil is in an art history class and the prof says something wrong abt a certain part of history

logan is about to correct the prof but virgil beats him to it and logan is impressed with how accurate virgil was with his facts because logan lived that era and not a lot of people are so knowledgeable about it

that aside, their friendship takes time

logan has to introduce patton and roman separately and then the three of them have to keep attempting to get closer to virgil slowly and at virgil's pace

eventually, for their own reasons, they fall in love with virgil

logan falls in love with how much he relates to virgil. virgil is so smart and the two of them can talk and have debates and virgil just understands him so well

roman falls in love with how snarky virgil is becos he'll tease virgil and he knows virgil will serve it right back to him. virgil challenges him and its exhilarating and exciting

patton falls in love with how soft virgil is and how much he wants to protect virgil from all the bad things in the world. he loves how virgil has been through so much and yet virgil is still so strong

virgil is unaware of how smitten the three of them are tho and he falls in love with them too. he kind of just... plans to be with whoever asks him out first (if any of them ask him out at all)

because virgil struggles with his anxiety a lot, he can't really work at normal places. there's too many interactions, too many people.

he had thought that he'd eventually get used to it and then he'd be able go get a job but it's taking him a lot of time to get over his anxiety

precious time he can't really afford since he's putting himself through college

which is where his vamp boyfriends friends come in because hello, if they can't pay for their cute human crush's essential college classes, then what's the point of having all that money?

in any case, they find out abt virgil's financial problems and they're like omg... we're the solutions to his problem!!!

roman: i can finally actually slay what ails virgil!!!

logan: you won't be slaying anything--

roman: LET ME HAVE THIS ONE THING

before they establish that sort of relationship though, logan and roman and patton all agree that they want virgil to know the real them first so that virgil can decide whether or not he wants to be associated with them

the last thing they want to do is make virgil feel like he's obligated to stay with them even tho he fears them becos they're paying for his college and housing him and stuff

so, they plan get to know virgil more and then tell virgil they're kind of sort of creatures of the night

definitely easier said than done

when they tell virgil, he's like *phone error sound* ??? before realizing oh my God, they're serious

he then laughs about it a little and the other three are confused but he clarifies that the situation was very ironic

becos like omg, how hilarious is that??? the one goth guy who's super pale and avoids social contact and is practically the stereotypical vampire is actually the only one that's NOT a vampire??? that's irony at its finest

virgil then also assures them that the three of them being vampires doesn't bother him one bit

virgil, the epitome of tumblr humor: bold of you to assume i wouldn't f**k a supernatural being

jokes aside, he does reveal to them that he couldn't care less about what species they were, just that they loved him and he loved them

and damn did virgil love those three idiots

roman: woah there, you might pull a muscle from all the i love you's you're spouting

virgil, sweating up a storm after showing the most emotional vulnerability in his life: sh*t u rite

jokes aside, they do form a sort of weird relationship where the three of them happily provide for virgil because virgil doesnt have the means to do so

it takes virgil a while to really get used to it since he's not used to accepting things from other people without giving back

he struggles for a little while becos he keeps trying to find ways to repay them for what they do for him but there's only so much he can do

eventually they have a conversation abt it and they're like babe honey sweetie no

patton: you give us your love and that's the absolute most important and priceless thing in the world!!!

virgil, known pessimist who cringes away from romantic gestures out of habit: sounds fake but ok

but like eventually they work it out in like a slowly but surely kind of way.

virgil learns to see money the same way the other three do (replaceable and pretty much worthless to vampires who have a large abundance of it) and the other three learn to kind of tone it down on the expensive gifts

virgil: im so glad you guys dont buy me really expensive things now

roman, sweating profusely as he hides the golden apple he had commissioned to be made especially for virgil: oH YEAH OFC HAHAHA

(logan, when roman had suggested getting virgil the golden apple: first of all, no??? in what way is that even romantic--)

omg imagine if virgil does the thing where he coops himself up in his room??? and then someone tries to get him to get out by pulling the blinds open to let in light??? and virgil hisses???

patton, having just let sunlight in, looking absolutely offended: OKAY FIRST OF ALL, you're not a vampire so don't take that tone of hiss with me--

someone is like teasing or bullying virgil abt his aesthetic and virgil is obviously getting uncomfortable, esp when they call him twilight (in reference to the vampire romance novel)

so one of the boys, probably roman, steps up and he's like 'the person you should call twilight is me' and he scares the bullies by flashing his eyes red and showing them his fangs

omg!!! roman doesn't have a reflection so virgil helps him put on make up or smth!!!

maybe virgil in this au is an artist so he paints a picture of all three of them so they know what they look like becos they dont show up on pictures and reflections

patton, gazing down at the picture: this is what true love feels like

logan, also feeling the same way: really? how unpleasant

logan:

logan: give me more

omg also logan having only really kept up with the intellectual side of history so he doesn't know abt memes and like stuff like that so virgil teaches him and he has his Flashcards™

iDK MAN JUST VAMPIRE BOYS BEING SOFT FOR EACH OTHER AND FOR THIS SMALL LITTLE HUMAN THEYVE PULLED UNDER THEIR (bat) WINGS

[jowritesthingss]

Motherfluffer

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Pairing(s): Prinxieceit(?) (Roman | Creativity + Virgil | Anxiety + Janus | Deceit), Intrulogicaliceit(?) (Remus | Dark Creativity + Logan | Logic + Patton | Morality + Janus | Deceit), idk the proper ship names but tbh it’s just Janus + everyone honestly

Rating: Teen (for some swearing)

Content Warning(s): swearing, teasing, lemme know if there are any I should add bc I got nuthin’ atm lol

Length: 4,239 words

Brief Summary: A bullet fic about Janus’ hair, because this is one of the important things in life obviously. (Which, for the other five sides, it really is. Duh.)

TS Masterlist + AO3 Links

*

SO

under his hat, Janus actually has really, really fluffy hair

it’s nice and soft and puffy and glossy and it’s honestly fricking beautiful because he takes so much pride in his appearance as a whole that he can’t just not take care of his hair, even if he hates it

which, he does, for that matter, hate his hair

it’s just...yeah, it looks nice, and it feels nice, but...it’s so fluffy and cute, and Janus of all people is most certainly not supposed to be cute, so in that it is utterly detestible, Janus thinks

hence why he is always wearing his bowler hat

it’s just seemingly nonsensical that deceit of all sides would have a mess of floof atop his head. it doesn’t look very serious or scary or snake-y at all, it doesn’t suit him whatsoever, and the decided lack of aesthetic of it all is horrid, if you ask Janus

(not that anyone would ask Janus, because none of the other sides know about his hair, nor will they ever know about it if Janus gets his way with it)

((he doesn’t. get his way with it, that is))

-

our story begins with that first Sanders Sides Asides, in which Roman steals Janus’ hat to use when they’re “voting” on which movie to watch together

contrary to popular belief, Janus does actually kinda-sorta want to join them all for movie night

(Frozen isn’t good, he totally hates it, he doesn’t identify with Hans at all and he totally doesn’t hate Disney for doing Hans a dirty with their last-minute decision to turn him into a bad guy)

besides, even Remus is going to this movie night thing, for goshsake

and even if the others still don’t really like him, surely they can tolerate being in the same vicinity as Janus if he’s quiet and shuts up and just watches the movie, right??

(he doesn’t even have to sit with them on the couch or hell, he doesn’t even have to be in the living room at all. he can just stand in the kitchen or sit on the stairs and watch from there if that makes them all feel better)

-

so Janus is preparing to get ready for the movie night

he’s wearing his darkest black capelet and his nicest silk yellow shirt and the slacks he knows make his butt look best, and he’s even doing actual fancyish makeup too to top it all off. and if asked he’ll say it’s just because Thomas had been planning on going out for the night, hadn’t he

(it’s not because he cares what the other sides think of him and how he looks. it’s not because they’re all stupidly attractive without even trying and because he’ll never be able to measure up to all that because of his goddamned snake face. it’s not because he wants to impress them. it’s not)

and at last, Janus is ready to ascend into the real world and descend down the stairs in swirls of darkness to rival even Virgil and dramatics to rival even Roman’s

and he goes to grab his beloved black bowler hat with the satin ribbon from its usual spot on a peg by his bedroom door and it’s not there where is it where—

Janus searches high and low and left and right and everywhere in his room he could think it would be and even some weird places, like the top of his wardrobe and in the toilet in his bathroom and under the trash can (not just in it, under) but he, he just can’t find it anywhere, where could it possibly have gone??

and he’s not like Remus or Roman he can’t just Imagine one into Being like they can so he doesn’t have anything else to cover his hair

(he’s not about to cry he’s not)

so when he hears the others thunder by his room and sink out to go watch movies with Thomas he thinks about sinking out with them, regardless of whether his hair is visible or not, but he shakes his head violently because he can’t he just can’t, the others still don’t really like him and they’ll just make fun of him and they won’t take him seriously anymore and it’s taken so much work fitting into this ominous villain persona just to get them to halfway listen to him already

(and he isn’t actually crying now he isn’t)

-

eventually he calms down enough to appear in the real world at the top of Thomas’ stairs, deciding to call out to the others at a break between movies, just to ask if anyone’s seen his hat without letting them really see him

and what should he see when he peeps out

but his hat

and it’s clutched in Roman’s attractive grubby hands

and he gets swept away in his anger at Roman for taking his precious hat without at least asking first, especially when he can literally just conjure his own fucking hat, dammit—so without thinking, Janus marches into the living room to take it back

he loses steam halfway down the stairs and shit he’s regretting his emotion-ridden decision but it’s too late to go back now

and even though Janus is pressing down on his hair and trying to hide it, it’s miserably obvious that his hair is a soft floofy mess even as his demeanor and expression are neither soft nor floofy

the others all stare and gape at his head, then they all exchange a Look with each other and he sees it and he knows what it must mean, he knows

he rushes out some sort of scolding at Roman, he’s not even sure what he said, really, just anything to distract them from his hair, only it doesn’t work, they’re still staring, why won’t they stop staring

he leaves the room as quickly as he can, leaving all dignity behind in his rush

but he can’t help but linger at the top of the stairs

-

Janus listens in on the others with bated breath and a sinking feeling in his chest, worried that they’re going to say something about his hair and yet he’s too much of a masochist to try and ignore it and leave

“oh. my gosh,” Patton says in awe, and he must be so in awe at how stupid Janus looks with his hair, he must be wondering how it’s even possible for someone to look so absurdly pathetic

(spoiler alert: nopenopenope. Patton trying to figure out how he never realized just how attractive Janus is)

“did you see his hair??” Roman says incredulously, and there’s some unknown emotion tightly contained in his voice. he must be trying hard not to burst into that boisterous laughter of his. Janus privately doesn’t think he looks all that bad, really, even with his scales and the halo of hair that surrounds him, but of course Roman of all people would find it especially silly and use it against him

(actually, Roman’s really just trying hard not to fangirl. that’s pure gay panic he’s trying to tamp down on babey)

“that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you dorks!” Remus says and god, that feels like a slap in the face to Janus. Remus ratted him out? just like that?? they’d been each other’s only friend for years and then Remus goes and gets accepted-ish by the light sides and then that’s it. just like that, huh.

(fuck that betrayal stings like nothing he’s felt before but he’s not going to let on about that)

Janus watches as the other sides clump together and begin discussing something even his most excellent snakey hearing can’t pick up, but he’s sure they’re insulting him and making fun of his hair

(spoiler alert: they’re actually just making a game plan to figure out how they can all touch his floofy hair and using Thomas as a sounding board)

and eventually he hears the other sides burst into laughter

which Janus, listening in, hears

and he’s hurt because he always knew they wouldn’t take him seriously how he is, things like that are the very reason he wore his hat in the first place, why did stupid fucking Roman have to take his hat and force him to reveal himself like this??

Janus slinks off, shoving the hat back down on his head, hard

and if he’s kinda heartbroken over it all, no way in hell is he about to acknowledge it

-

the whole rest of it just follows all the other sides just absolutely becoming obsessed with Janus’ hair and subsequently falling in love with him lmao

after that one time Roman took Janus’ hat, everyone just keeps trying to steal his hat the second he lays it down or takes it off for the night

(Patton shoves an entire pack of gum in his mouth all at once, cheeks puffed up like a chipmunk’s, and then as he passes Janus lying down and blep-ing in the afternoon sun he “accidentally” spits it all out on his hat just to get Janus to take it off to clean it.)

((he blinks once. once. once and Patton has torn it away out of his hands, reaching out a hand and mussing up Janus’ already-messy hat hair, and then dancing just out of reach, promising to go clean it for him as an “apology”))

so Janus starts wearing his hat more and more and more, regardless of the circumstances the others keep trying to catch him under

(“gee, isn’t it hot in the mindscape today!” Roman pants, shirtless and sweating his ass off, after having literally turned the heater up to eighty-four fucking degrees Farenheit, right as Janus watched him. “sure makes you wanna shed a few layers of clothing. hahaha. like...oh, I dunno, maybe that hat of yours...? and, ahm, maybe that lil cape and mmmaybeee your shirt too pretty pretty please?”)

((which, Janus does end up removing his shirt, only because Roman promises him half the money he bet Virgil on Janus having a six pack—and who knows why Roman’s talking to boyfriend about another man’s abs but hey, Janus isn’t one to judge—but the bowler hat stays firmly placed on top of his head))

(((that day his wallet expands by twenty bucks, and his satisfaction expands immeasurably when he sees Virgil next and the anxious side’s face immediately flushes dark red)))

((((yeah, that’s what you missed out on when you left the dark sides, ya lil bitch. ha))))

-

the other sides’ ploys to get his hat off of him and his hair in fluffing distance spiral more and more and more

once he even catches Logan—yeah, that’s right, stupid McSerious Mr. Logan N. Sanders (the N stands for Necktie)—trying to head a goddamn sting operation with his boyfriends, trying to take the hat from right off his head while Janus is reading in the mindscape’s living room

(there was a fishing pole, a grappling hook, a pair of Virgil’s surprisingly emo underpants, and an exorbitant amount of Cheez-Its involved and Janus really, really regrets learning this information)

((he totally steals that pair of MCR boxers when the Logan, Patton, and Remus aren’t looking though))

.

.

.

anyways

ahem

petty panty theivery aside, the other sides are all getting increasingly more desperate, and they’re not even bothering to hide it at this point, even

and Janus just doesn’t get why they’re trying so hard to embarrass him and insult him like this

like, maybe it’s because he totally schooled them after the whole wedding fiasco??

because Thomas did accept him, and technically the others did too, no matter how grudgingly, but he supposes that Thomas accepting him could have forced everyone else’s hands, so maybe this is their way of making fun of him even as they’re not supposed to verbally insult him anymore??

but regardless of why they’re doing it, now Janus has to take to wearing his hat everywhere

like, literally everywhere, or else it’ll be stolen if he so much as blinks or takes his eyes and hands off it for even a second

literally

remus tries to sneak up on him in the shower and grab his hat off the counter only to find a drenched Janus, fully naked save for the bowler hat, glaring sourly at him from the shower as he attempts to stealthily creep into the bathroom

he even has to wear the hat places like in bed, because otherwise the others Will take the opportunity to steal it

once he wakes up to Patton staring at him, the moral side’s eyes wide as he lays on the other side of his bed, one of his arms reaching out to Janus’ head and fucking caressing his hair

(and no, his stomach does Not do weird flips at that, it doesn’t)

((will he ever actually start to believe these lies he’s telling himself??))

-

everyone keeps finding more and more and more ridiculous ways to get Janus to take off his hat and more and more ridiculous places to accidentally “misplace” it

Janus still is convinced that they’re pulling all of this shit just because they wanna laugh at his hair and insult him

(but no! it is because they are all useless gays that rly rly rly like the floof of hairs on his head)

at some point Patton or Roman or someone literally just. fucking freezes his hat in a block of ice in the freezer

it is at this point that Janus decides he has had Enough

and at this point he can’t even lie to himself anymore and say that he isn’t crying

(and thank god he found his hat when going down to get a glass of water in the middle of the night, and not the following morning at breakfast, because then the others would see him so fragile like that and even if they’ve already seen his stupid fucking hair they certainly don’t deserve to see him this vulnerable)

but he carries the tub of ice with his precious hat in it back to his room, glass of water forgotten

and he’s silent but he’s shaking and he’s sobbing and he just. doesn’t know what to do anymore in response to any of this

because he’s just so, so tired of the others teasing him like this and he doesn’t know if it’s normal or not because he has no prior experience with them

—all Janus knows of the light sides is that back before the whole hat and hair thing started spiralling so far out of control, it was actually kind of nice to be around them sometimes

like, not to be cliché or anything

but passionately arguing over Disney with Roman and Virgil was really nice, reading and co-existing with Logan was an excellent wind-down from busy days, talking theatre and doing kinda-sorta-almost-horny-but-not-quite dirty dancing with Roman was fun, Patton was a surprisingly excellent co-conspirator for pranks, Remus and Logan were surprisingly excellent victims for said pranks, Virgil and he had finally made up and were maybe even flirting a little bit again, and things had just. they had been nice—

so excepting the whole hat and hair thing, things had been oh so nice and friendly and maybe even flirty between him and the other sides

only now it isn’t now it’s horrible and he just doesn’t understand why they can’t leave him alone already or at least stop beating around the bush and tell him why they won’t just leave him alone—

and god fucking dammit, it just hurts so fucking much because he likes them all so, so much that he can’t even pretend not to anymore. he likes them all, and he wants them all to like him too, but with all the pestering they’ve been doing it just doesn’t feel like they do

and like, is this mean-spirited or not? he honestly can’t tell, he can’t read any of them at all on this, and it’s so strange because usually he can

and, and maybe, just maybe, it isn’t, maybe they’re just flirting or teasing or all in fun or whatever, but still it hurts

then if it truly is mean-spirited, can’t they just tell him and leave him to lick his wounds in private instead of popping up literally everywhere and scaring him half to death?

but whatever the reason behind it all, the subterfuge and the glances when they think he’s not looking and the weird emotion on their faces when they watch him hiss and try to grab his hat back and all the mixed signals he’s getting now are too too much and—

—and Janus, he knows how to be quiet. he knows how to tell a lie. if they want to hate him and pretend to get along around Thomas it’s fine, it’s nothing he hasn’t dealt with before

(it’ll hurt like a bitch but he’ll be fine)

((he’s lying to himself again he won’t be fine))

but he’s just getting so much attention, and so much of it is on his hair, one of the things he hates the most about himself, and he’s

he’s just so tired

-

and so Janus, with a heavy heart, starts straightening his hair every morning without fail

he lets his hair go all greasy and unwashed and unkempt and it hurts him to stop taking care of himself like that, but maybe, just maybe, if he does they’ll all lose interest in his hair and finally just stop

only the others are actually? really devastated?? and genuinely concerned???

and so all the other sides corner him and ask him why

in self-defense (but also out of hurt) he somewhat nastily comments something along the lines of “what, so you can’t make fun of it anymore, huh?”

and the others are hurt and there’s a bit of shouting and anger until someone comes out and admits that like,,, “no dude you’re literally the hottest/cutest of all of us and uhhh we all love you and kinda wanna date you lol”

and then Janus is like

uhm.

what.

-

everyone is reeling from the reveal, and oh so confused, so at Logan’s insistence they all take a big step back to calm down from the confrontation that just happened

Patton offers to go make some hot cocoa and warm up some brownies for everyone to help them all de-stress a little bit, and Logan bustles off after his boyf to help him

Virgil insists that Janus take a bath to get all clean, and he actually offers to help Janus bathe

(god, that’s such a flashback to when they were younger, when things were easier)

((Janus bites back a strangled, choked-up laugh as he remembers him, Virgil, and Remus all squished in a tub together as children, only back then it was the two of them trying to make Remus wash his hair, not vice versa))

and this time Virgil asks before touching him, offering to wash Janus’ hair for him to help get the week-and-a-half’s worth of grime out of it, and Janus is tired and the water is warm and Virgil is safe(?) so he says yes and

and oh

Virgil’s hands scratch up against his scalp, soft and feather-light, and it actually feels really, really...good

there in that tub, Janus slowly starts to relax for the first time in what feels like months

then, when he’s done washing Janus’ hair, Virgil leaves to let Janus have some time to relax and soak in private

Janus sits there in the tub, head tipped back against the cool porcelain, relishing in the warm water surrounding him

he still doesn’t really know why the other sides have been doing what they’ve been doing

but all the same, he’s not quite so anxious about what they’ve been doing anymore

surely if Virgil of all people has been so soft

surely things can’t be so bad as he had himself convinced

(maybe things can be okay after all?)

-

when Janus finally gets out of the bath, Roman and Remus are standing wordlessly outside the bathroom, holding out a ridiculously fuzzy pair of yellow-and-black pajamas with cartoon snakes for him

and there, on top of the pajamas, his hat

no, no, wait a minute

that isn’t his hat, it’s a...a new one

...for him?

Janus looks up at Roman, who nods, his expression surprisingly shy, then he looks over at Remus, who grins almost nervously at him, looking at him weirdly delicately

the bowler hat is clean and shiny and velvety and black, with a satin yellow ribbon at the brim just like his old one, only this new one has small polka-dots that, upon further inspection, are actually really, really tiny versions of all the sides’ different insignias—so that a little piece of them all can be with him, Roman explains, even when Janus doesn’t feel comfortable actually being in their presence

(he’s not really sure how he doesn’t break down at that, but Janus manages to hold out until after he’s swathed in fuzzy warmth and after he goes downstairs to talk things over with the others)

-

the six of them make themselves sit down in the living room and talk it all out over hot cocoa and warm mushy brownies

Janus opens up about how he hates his hair, how he wears his hat to hide how fluffy and soft it is, how he thought that they would never listen to him or take what he says seriously because of it, how scared he was that they were doing it because they hated him, how overwhelmed he was over them showing up everywhere and invading his space and taking his hat and playing with his hair without at least asking first

and the others explain that they were just trying to have fun and flirt with them. that first time they saw Janus’ hair he hadn’t even technically been accepted by them yet, but nevertheless, even back then they only wanted to comment on how soft it looked. on their side, it had been a bet—to see who could get Janus’ hat off again next, to see who could touch Janus’ hair first and figure out what it felt like—but then it had morphed into gay panic and them all falling for Janus, hard

Roman, Virgil, Patton, Logan, and Remus all apologize big-time to Janus

they assure him that they hadn’t meant anything bad over it, and that they really did love him and want to all be involved with him, and that they would never actively try to maliciously insult or tease him like that, and that they didn’t realize that he wasn’t just flirting back when he protested the whole hat thing

(which, Janus realizes that he kind of had been back in the beginning, just a little bit, before the teasing went way too far)

but just because the others hadn’t deliberately meant anything mean doesn’t mean that it didn’t hurt him, nevertheless

so the five of them acknowledge and apologize for not realizing Janus’ discomfort and for not ensuring that the environment was one in which he felt safe in admitting his discomfort to them

and Janus admits that, now he knows for sure that it isn’t anything bad, he really doesn’t mind them touching his hair or any other part of him, really, but they really need to ask first, because things that feel nice some times don’t feel so nice other times

so they all have a nice long talk about boundaries and about how consent extends way past just sexual activity

and what kind of hurt/comfort fic would this be if Janus isn’t passed around everyone’s laps while everyone softly peppers kisses all over him and reassures him that they love him and they love his hair and they love his scales and they love his everything? so naturally that happens, and it’s all very very mushy and sweet and cavity-inducing

and everyone assures Janus that he and his hair are fully worthy of love and that they’re happy to love both even as he can’t bring himself to love himself just yet—if he’ll have them all, that is

and Roman + Virgil ask Janus to date them, and Logan + Remus + Patton ask him to date them too because yay gays and yay polyamory

and maybe Janus is crying a bit after the others admit that they actually really like how he looks, snake face, fluffy hair, and all, maybe he’s crying as he says that yes, he really does like them all and want to be with them

but he’s not about to admit it, of course

besides, he’s got his head turned to kiss Roman, soft and chaste and long and sweet, and Patton’s in his lap with hands under his shirt, gently rubbing just above his hipbones, and Virgil’s pressed against his side, holding his hand and squeezing carefully, and Remus is on the floor, curled around his calves and playing with the fuzz of his pajama pants, and Logan massages at the base of his neck even as his brand new hat sits perched atop his head

so Janus most certainly has an excuse for not admitting anything (or saying anything else, really) for a long, long while

Fin

*

Why is this literally over four thousand words what the fvck

Anyways, maybe one day I’ll write this like a proper fic, but in the meantime I wanted to share it as a bullet fic! :) If you want to create something yourself that’s based on this, be it writing or art or whatever, please feel free to! PLS do tag me tho bc fluffy-haired Janus is LIFE and I want to see it ALL. o.O

Want to be added onto any of my taglists? Shoot me an ask or a message here or via my other social media!

[malecftw]

Being Billy’s twin and him being protective when Steve flirts with you

A/N: I’m so disappointed. For some reason, I felt so much pressure today to write and while I’m semi-happy with it, this one gives me a weird vibe idk :/ Also had no energy left to proofread soz. still hope you like it though

Word count: 1.940

Warnings: cursing

Masterlist.

Requests are open!

‘Y/N we’re gonna be late if you don’t hurry the fuck up!’ ‘Language Billy!’ I scramble around trying to pick up all the books I need for today as I hear the exchange between my twin brother and stepmom. He never could stand the woman but figured it’d be better to stay quiet for both of our sakes. Actually, more for my sake since I had to pay for his behavior a lot of the times, being the middle ground between Billy and the rest of the family I always got to hear everyone’s opinion about the other, whether I asked for it or not. I zipped up my leather boots and made my way downstairs, the stairs creaking under my weight. 

My stepmom had her back towards me as she lectured Billy. I didn’t even try to hide my middle finger as it went up in the air behind her. Billy noticed this and started laughing, causing me to glare at him for almost ratting me out when she turned towards me and I acted like I was looking at my nails. She gave me a sickening smile and sighed. ‘Gosh, thank goodness for you y/n. Try to teach your brother some manners will you.’ ‘Isn’t that your job Susan?’ I shot back, I may be the middle ground but he’s my blood and she was an idiot to think I’d choose her over him.

Her smile turned into a frown and she opened her mouth to defend herself, but I didn’t let her. I walked passed her and grabbed Billy by the collar of his leather jacket. ‘Come on, we’re gonna be late. I’m sure Susan has time to drive Max if she has time to lecture a 17-year-old about his language.’ At that Billy just died and followed me out the door towards his car. ‘You are a work of art you know that lil’ sis?’ He said smiling as he got behind the wheel. ‘Are you feeling okay Billy? What’s with the lack of daily commentary about my clothing choice or my face?’ He smirked and turned his head towards me. ‘Oh come on y/n, I’m your big brother. I’m supposed to give you a hard time, that doesn’t mean I don’t have your back. You’re my sis, my actual sis. Plus, you’ve actually done well today. We have a reputation to uphold in this place now that I’ve made it clear to Harrington who’s boss.’ I rolled my eyes, his macho behavior cringing me out. ‘Thank you God Almighty for your approval of my outfit.’ He laughed and nodded his head to the rock music on the radio. ‘You’re on fire today.’

With Billy’s speeding, it didn’t take long for us to arrive at school, everyone eyeing the car that had already claimed the closest parking spot after a month of parking there. Everyone already knew the car and who it belonged to. Max and I kept more of a low profile though, neither of us interested in the act Billy wanted to keep up. But I’d be lying if I’d say it didn’t seem like an interesting prospect, being seen as the new bad girl at school. I was over petty high school drama and the bitching that came with it.

‘See you at 4. Try to stay out of trouble.’ I shouted, not looking back at Billy. Looking around with confidence, I make my way to my locker, holding my books close to my chest. A couple of guys eye me up and down whilst leaning against their lockers and it makes me want to vomit. Men are pigs.

I approach my locker and see a guy leaning against it, I’d seen him around the school but never paid much attention. Until now. His hair had a prince charming vibe to it and he looked like he was waiting for someone. I decided against the confrontation and walked passed him towards class when I heard his foot kick himself off of the locker, catching up to me quickly. ‘Hey wait up.’ I continued walking, deciding whether or not I should just smack him with one of my textbooks.

He ran ‘till he was in front of me, chest heaving from physical strain. ‘What do you want.’ It wasn’t even really a question, I just had no idea what else to say. He put his hands up in defense. ‘Woah princess, just wanted to make some conversation.’ I rolled my eyes at the pet name, who did he think he was. ‘Don’t call me that.’ He nodded, grinning cause, of course, he was gonna keep calling me that if it got a reaction out of me. ‘Look, I’ve just been seeing you around and I figured I’d ask how you like your new school. ‘Why? Are you the school mascotte?’ His mouth fell open and he looked rather impressed. ‘No... Call it human empathy and my incredibly caring nature.’ I scoffed and continued walking, bumping into his shoulder.

He swiftly turned around and started walking beside me. ‘Don’t you have class to get to?’ I asked, annoyed as hell that he was still trying with me. ‘Where do you think I’m going. Calculus first period.’ I groaned audibly and he laughed. ‘You really don’t like me do you?’ Looking up at him, he looked sincere; Not hurt, not upset, just curious and a little intrigued. ‘It’s not that, I just... I don’t care for fooling around. I’m not interested in teenage behavior. What would make you so different from all the other guys here?’ I told him genuinely. I didn’t mean him any harm, I just couldn’t see how he’d interest me in the slightest.  We got to the classroom and right before I entered, he put his arm in front of me, blocking the way for me to get in. ‘Don’t you want to find out?’ He said smirking before removing his hand and walking in, leaving me standing there baffled at his never-wavering confidence.

I sat by myself at one of the tables in the cafeteria, minding my own business waiting for my friends to show up when a figure plopped down on the seat next to me. Judging by the waft of cologne making its way into my nostrils I didn’t have to think twice about who had decided to join me. ‘Do you really have nothing better to do than stalk me?’ I asked, not bothering to look up from my lunch box. He laughed and scooted closer to me. ‘As a matter of fact, I don’t. You see, there’s this girl right. A total stone cold bitch. I’m trying really hard to get to know her, but she could pretty much have any guy or girl in Hawkins. So tell me, what should I do to get her attention?’ He eyed me carefully as I smirked, not sure if that was a good or a bad sign. You take her out to lunch, you show her who’s boss. And if you really are as special as you think, she’ll let you know. Or not.’ All of a sudden, his eyes were on his food, toying with the apple in front of him. My place, tonight, 8 pm. I’ll pick you up,’ He states while he picks up his food winks at me before walking away.

Soon enough the day passed by and before I knew it, it was 8 pm. I decided to keep my old outfit on, not wanting to look like I put in any effort even though I did put on some makeup. I could hear the roaring of a vehicle through my opened bedroom window and looked outside. There he was in all his glory, looking like a king. I closed my window and smiled. Maybe he wasn’t all that bad. He seemed like a good guy.

My feet took me downstairs, a couple of books in hand as I announced my departure to my family. ‘Hey, I’m going to go study at Stacy’s okay?’ My dad immediately spoke up. ‘At 8 pm?’ ‘Everyone looked at me while I easily came up with a lie. ‘Yeah, she had band practice ‘till 7 and she still had to have dinner.’ My parents and Max seemed to buy it, but not Billy. He kept a close eye on me as I put on my coat. I looked back before closing the door behind me, noticing his glare, I look down, buckling under the pressure of his intense stare.

But all of that faded into nothingness when Steve’s car came into my view. I giggled to myself as I walked towards him. I placed hands on his open-windowed door and he looked at me, spitting his gum out before talking. ‘Hop in princess.’ I grabbed his chin teasingly. ‘Call me that one more time and so help me god-’ ‘WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING!’ Billy’s furious voice shouted into the night air, briskly walking towards me as he never took his eyes off of my date. 

‘Billy come on.’ I said whining, but he grabbed my arm and pulled me towards him. ‘Don’t talk.’ He commanded and Steve got out of the car, looking done with the whole situation. ‘Come on man, let her go.’ ‘Don’t tell me what to do with my baby sister, Harrington.’ I rolled my eyes but I quickly picked up on what he said last. ‘First off, we’re the same age dickhead. Second of all, you’re Harrington?’ Steve looked at me sheepishly and nodded. ‘Look for what it’s worth dude I had no idea she was your sister.’ ‘Well now you know. Now get the fuck away from her.’ Billy said as he kicked a front tire of Steve’s car. ‘I’ll do what I want. And the only reason for me to stay away from her is if she wants that.’ This only made Billy more furious and I pulled my arm out of his grasp before going to stand between the two angry teenagers. ‘Both of you need to calm down and chill the fuck out.’ I shout, both of my hands pushing against the two boys’ chests.

‘Billy please get inside while I talk to Steve. We don’t want dad or that evil stepmonster coming outside now do we. This made him rethink his next move and he obliged grumbling something between his teeth. ‘You better watch out Harrington. I’m keeping a close eye on you and you so much as hurt a hair on her head and you’ll have to answer to me.’ Steve shook his head, wondering what he got himself into. ‘I don’t plan on it.’

As Billy makes his way back to the house, still a bit heated from having to give up his position of power I look at Steve. ‘Rain check?’ He asks knowingly. I just nod and take a step towards him. Even if I didn’t really know the guy, I felt bad. Billy had some serious issues and he was just very protective of me but Steve did not deserve any of it. 

Y/n took Steve by surprise as she wrapped her arms around his torso, hugging her tiny frame into his tall one. He hesitantly mimicked the gesture and she could feel it. ‘Please don’t treat me differently now that you know he’s my brother. I won’t let him hurt you.’ He sighs worriedly, ‘It’s not me I’m worried about y/n.’ I nuzzled my face into his tummy, taking in his smell as we stood there for a couple of minutes.

Maybe Steve Harrington wasn’t as bad after all.