#not making it up i'm just too lazy to find the source

[howling-medic]

Impertinence

Summary: Five times Pippin call Aragorn Strider in places he shouldn't, and the one time he didn't. With an epilogue and bonus snippet because I couldn't leave it where it ended. This is entirely unbeta'd. All mistakes are mine and mine alone.

A/N: Holy shit. This was kind of a beast to write. I also wrote it mostly while on shift, so I'm really hoping I caught all my mistakes, and it's mostly decent. I am not sure how happy with this I am, but I think it is as good as I am going to get it. If I keep agonizing over it, I'll never sleep today. So, up it goes. Also, I am too lazy to make this into multiple chapters right now. Maybe one day I will, but it is not this day. For now, there are headers at the start of each section

This whole thing came about because I mentioned to someone that I want Fourth Age content because I wanted to see Pippin being a little shit in court, and I was told emphatically that Pippin would clearly grow up and behave himself. I think that's insane. Pippin is a socially skilled class clown with a high level of intelligence. He also has zero regard for authority figures. So I wrote a whole fic about how much of a dork Pippin is and how Aragorn adores that dork - even if he a giant pain in his ass.

TW: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, angst, sadness, heartbreak, mentions of alcohol

WC: 7562 words (This was never intended to be this long, y'all.)

Making An Entrance

“Strider!” The shout cut through the den of the courtyard of the Citadel. King Elessar sighed fondly and turned to find Pippin jogging towards him in his road dirtied court attire. In the past two years Aragorn had learned one thing: every time the young hobbit came back to court, he would call the King by his old moniker in public at least once. Usually more. As with each time, everyone in the vicinity turned to search for the source of the disrespect to their monarch.

“Thrain Took,” Aragorn called in greeting. At the use of his title, Pippin’s ears went pink, and Aragorn laughed at the sight of the very moment the young hobbit realized his mistake. To the utter shock of any in the area who did know of Pippin or the story of the name Strider, including the Harad emissaries who had come to discuss a new trade agreement, Aragorn knelt to welcome his friend with a warm embrace. “How are you my dear friend? How was your journey?”

“Ach, I am as well as ever! The road was long, but certainly shorter than my first journey here.” Pippin was about to launch into a long winded tale of the trip and all those he and Merry saw along the way, as well as all the doings of The Shire. Aragorn could see it in the hobbit’s eyes. Just before he could open his mouth, Aragorn interjected, “And I cannot wait to hear all you wish to share. I am certain we have much to discuss politically and personally, but I do not wish to keep you from getting a bite and a bath, so go freshen yourself. Then come to my quarters for dinner.”

Pippin glanced over Aragorn’s shoulder and saw the assembled group of men waiting on his liege to return, and then he looked back to Aragorn. His lips pressed into a thin line. The group of Harad dignitaries looked utterly aghast at his apparent impudence. Aragorn shrugged nearly imperceptibly and rolled his eyes, at which Pippin’s face lit up anew. “As you wish, Strider.” Aragorn barked out a startled laugh and shook his head. 

“Fool of a Took,” he murmured and rose to return to the Harad behind him. “Gentlemen, where were we?”

“You accept such disrespect from a creature so small? Was that a child?” One of the men asked while his eyes followed the retreating form of Pippin.

“That,” Aragorn said in a voice still light with laughter while watching Pippin disappear inside the Citadel, “Was a hobbit of more renown and valor than you could imagine. His name is Peregrin Took. He is the Thrain of the Shire, and a Knight of the Citadel. He was also one of the nine of the Fellowship of the Ring. He, the others of that party, and the Thrain’s kin are the only people from whom I accept that name. So no, my lord, I suffer no disrespect, nor was that a child.” The laughter in Aragorn’s voice died, and he turned back to the group before him. “I would advise you to not disrespect hobbits in this court - particularly those who were a part of the Fellowship. They are much beloved by myself, my household, and this land.” The three assembled emissaries took a collective half step back. Looking at each of the three in turn, Aragorn found his humor and patience was spent. Silent judgment and covert murmurs about his patience with Pippin he could handle, but the incredulity in this man’s voice with no knowledge of what he spoke, of who he spoke, was not something Aragorn could abide. “I believe we are done with negotiations for today.” He broke off for the briefest of moments and pushed aside the temptation to put these three men, the truly impudent ones in this situation, in their place in favor of remaining diplomatic. “Let us resume tomorrow for I desire to inquire after Thrain Took’s companion, Meriadoc, and hear the news of a region of my land from which I receive very little.” 

“My lord,” they said in unison. 

Aragorn took his leave. As he turned, he caught their shared look of disbelief. “Strider?” he heard one ask. “Hobbits?” another asked. “Strange land and a strange people,” the final man declared. Aragorn chuckled. Once again, he was going to have to have a word with Pippin. No matter how much more he loathed the Harads’ words, Pippin had to watch around whom he spoke in such a manner. Even if Aragorn wished it was not so.

However, later that evening as Aragorn entered the sitting room of the Royal Apartments, the earnest look of joy Aragorn saw in Pippin’s eyes when he exclaimed the name - the one given to him by an innkeeper that Aragorn once loathed - stayed his tongue. With a sigh of relief, the High King of the Reunited Kingdom lifted the winged crown from his head and placed it upon the black velvet cushion on a side table that was as near to the door as possible without blocking it. Then he did away with the heavy blue velvet cloak adorned with the crest of the House of Telcontar selected by his attendants specifically for his meeting with the Harad dignitaries. “Strider indeed, my friend,” Aragorn said with a fond chuckle. “You truly will never let that name remain in the past, will you?”

“Why ever would I?” Pippin asked. His brows furrowed in earnest confusion. “It is the name I first knew you by, and someone has to keep you grounded and your head from flying away with those wings you wear.” 

Aragorn laughed. It started as a choked back sound of surprise and devolved into a truly uproarious, booming laugh. So few dared to speak to him in such a manner that it was refreshing to hear such cheek. “Verily, and I suppose one so close to the ground would be just the person to do so?”

“Precisely! I am glad you understand!” Pippin beamed up Aragorn with mirth and mischief dancing in his eyes that spelled nothing but trouble. The Ranger of the North could not find it within himself to fret over it. 

Of Hobbits and Their Food

“Strider! Do not be absurd!” Pippin cried with his hands thrown up in exasperation. Aragorn resisted the urge to let his head fall to the wooden table before him. The assembled council looked in utter disbelief at the impudent hobbit in their midst. The annual meeting discussing each region’s harvest dragged on well past lunch and was showing no signs of stopping - despite the originally listed eleven o'clock end time for the meeting. Several regions’ summers had been unusually dry, and The Shire’s harvest outperformed all others. As a solution, one of Aragorn’s advisors proposed requisitioning a small portion of its grains and preservable legumes to help offset the dearth from the other areas of Gondor. Pippin was displeased with the notion, to say the least, and turned that displeasure to Aragorn. The King sat with his fingers steepled on the table. It was logical, but many hobbits viewed ‘Big Folks’ with intense weariness. Declaring a portion of their harvest the property of the crown would only validate that weariness and breed resentment in a fledgling political relationship. The crown was meant to protect that vulnerable region, not pilfer from them. Yet, his other territories were in a precarious position with meager stores to last the winter.

Of all the times and days to use the old nickname, this was the least ideal. Years with poor harvests led to contentious, and frequently panicked, fall assemblies of regional Lords. This assembly included many from outlying communities who did frequently make it to court. Protesting a proposal was one thing. An outburst that - given their ignorance to the background of the familiar title - would appear to these Lords as impudence was another. Impudence they would perceive as tolerated by their King, which they would likely take to mean their King lacked control of his troops and court. Aragorn could feel every eye in the room trained on him, awaiting a response. Awaiting his rebuke to the comment. 

“Nothing has been decided Thrain Took,” Aragorn responded coldly. The emphasis he placed on Pippin’s title drew smirks from several Lords. Pippin did not flinch. 

The ever genial hobbits looked back at his friend with narrowed eyes. An unmeasured emotional outburst may have drawn the name from Pippin, but he showed no signs of being cowed that easily. “My apologies, Lord,” Pippin said bitterly. Aragorn suppressed a sigh of defeat and smile simultaneously.  

“State your case for reserving your resources. It is only right we hear your rebuttal after hearing the argument for requisitioning some of your bounty.” Aragorn’s tone took a more neutral tone. Arguments could remain behind closed doors - in places where the defiant nature of his friend would not raise eyebrows. Now was the time to draw an already overlong meeting to a close without further incident, so Aragorn could rein in his frustration for the time being. 

Pippin spoke eloquently of the need to keep The Shire’s resources within and not dispersing them, his tone turning to a dispassionate recitation of facts and history. He outlined the way they often support outlying communities like Bree and the general distrust nearly all the ‘shire folk felt’ of any situation where resources were taken in such a manner following Saruman’s abuse and subjugation. It was a persuasive case that Pippin would not have possessed the maturity to articulate five years ago when Aragorn met him in the Prancing Pony or four years ago when the hobbit first rode back to his home. The spirit and fierce protectiveness of his kin was the same, but the ability to debate over argue was a new development that Aragorn felt privileged to have witnessed. The inability to relinquish the old moniker of Strider in public seemed an enduring habit, however. 

Lunch was sent for as soon as the King left the meeting hall. Pippin sat before him with defiance radiating off him in waves. The look in his eyes was so similar to that which Aragorn saw in Rivendell when Elrond attempted to send Merry and Pippin back to the shire instead of with the Fellowship that it nearly made him laugh at the old memory. Almost. “Peregrin Took,” Aragorn started, “We have had this conversation before.”

“Yes, and I have told you before that I am not likely to ever truly change. I may be older, and I may have fancy titles, but I am still no more than a hobbit from the Shire.”

“Is that so? Are you not a knight of the citadel and a member of this court? The designated ambassador from your land and representative of your people?” Aragorn asked, voice stern and lacking any of the humor with which he typically spoke to his friend. Even in their most heated political debates and spirited debate over old history, neither were prone to harsh tones. 

“Aye, I may be, but I am still simple folk. Unschooled in court and prone to gaffs.” Pippin’s protest held no water, and he knew it. Five years of serving in the court as Thrain of the Shire left him well schooled in court affairs - even if he traded on his humble, rural appearance and accent frequently in court dealings.  

“You know it causes a stir throughout the whole of the court each time you do that?” Aragorn asked sharply. “It reflects on how I manage my advisors and troops. I know things change slowly in The Shire, if they change at all, but are you so incapable of change yourself? Can you do as your King and liege lord commands in this, if you won’t do it for your friend?”

Pippin visibly deflated as Aragorn spoke. His shoulders drooped and his eyes fell to the cluttered desk before him. “Aye, Strider. That I can do. So long as I can still call you as I ever think of you out of earshot of those who fuss about such odd things.” Aragorn softened then. As I ever think of you. The simple statement drew a lopsided smile to his face that was reminiscent of the first night he met Pippin in Bree, the one that played across his face each time the four hobbits impressed him with their boldness in the face of fear and peril and each time they showed their heart and wisdom along their long journey. “Do you still see old Strider in me? You did once promise to ground me in that version of myself, did you not?”

“That I did, and that I do. You may wear fancy clothes and bathe regularly now, so your old rascally look is gone, but that does not mean you are not the rascal I first met. How many times do I have to tell you this?”

“I dare say it will be many times yet in the years we spend together. I find less and less of the Ranger in myself each day I spend in these stone halls.” “Do you not sneak out anymore? Slip past your guards and flee to the woods?” Pippin asked.

“Not in many months. I have been tied to this desk long into the night, and when I am not I am with the little ones. It also seems that many people who have no right to an opinion on the matter feel rather strongly that I ought not to ever be anywhere with a guard.”

“Would it please my lord to escape this evening then?”

“Did we not just say that we need not use titles away from listening ears?” Aragorn inquired through a laugh.

“That we did, but I am still an ass and a Fool of a Took after these many years. I shall do as I please behind closed doors and do as you please beyond them,” Pippin answered simply and grinned.

“I suppose I can abide that,” Aragorn replied and fell silent for a moment. “I do believe an escape into the woods sounds like a wonderful idea - plus none can protest that I will be unprotected with a Knight of Gondor at my side.” 

“Excellent! Then let's settle the matter of the Shire’s crops, so we have no work to haggle over while we are beneath the stars…Strider.”

Feasts are for celebrating

It was the Midsummer’s Feast, and all the remaining members of The Fellowship, their spouses, Éomer, Lothíriel, Éowyn, and Faramir sat at the head table. A few notable dignitaries from Aglarond and Legolas’s kin in Ithilien had also been designated seats of honor with the tightly knit group of nobility. Eight years into the Fourth Age left the lands prosperous and healing. Areas that had long since not seen inhabitants were being rebuilt. Maps were being redrawn with each passing year because they lacked new settlements. That was a struggle all were thrilled to have. 

Eight years of retelling stories, however, meant they only still possessed roots in the truth. With each new recitation details were exaggerated anew. Drama was added. Some events were simply fabricated from nowhere. Some were far guiltier of these transgressions than others. Pippin was fairly notorious throughout the Reunited Realm for embellishments - especially when the wine and ale flowed freely as it did at feasts. As it was at this Midsummer’s Feast. “Strider! Strider!” Pippin called from halfway down the table. The guests of honor from abroad, who were seated next to him, looked gaped at the hobbit who had shared many fascinating tales that evening. “I was rather indisposed with dancing and singing, and you were the only one with Frood at the time in the Prancing Pony. Could you tell us the story of what you saw - or didn’t see, for that matter - in the tavern when he disappeared? These lovely gentlemen from Aglarond have not heard that story yet, seeing as we had not yet met Gimli!” 

Each person well acquainted with Pippin, and his propensity to forget proper etiquette, looked around the table and then to Aragorn. Every feast it happened eventually, no matter how many times Pippin was lectured, and each time his friends reacted the same. Aragorn was beginning to wonder if Pippin acted as he did simply to get a rise out of those around him. Someone has to keep you grounded and your head from flying away with those wings you wear echoed in Aragorn’s mind as he watched the familiar sight of the friends he called family react anew to Pippin’s antics. Faramir grumbled something incoherent into his glass of wine, for which Éowyn promptly kicked his shin. Éomer snorted out a rather undignified choked laugh. Lothíriel glared at him. Merry groaned into his hands to muffle the sound. Legolas pressed his lips into a thin line to hide a smile. Sam shook his head in dismay. Rosie giggled into her napkin. Gimli had no such compunctions and chuckled rather loudly. Diamond sighed and looked apologetically at Arwen. Arwen visibly fought back laughter. Aragorn, donning the Winged Crown and Star of Elendil, pinched the bridge of his nose, sighed, and proceeded to give a full recount of the events in the Prancing Pony the first night he met the hobbits. That retelling quickly led to several more tales shared - and debated. Tales of travels and battles, and all the embarrassing mishaps and pranks along the way. The formality of the night quickly devolved, and strict court manners gradually faded from each of the friends. 

After a few more glasses of wine and ale, Pippin was far from the only one at the table who had their fun at the expense of the King sitting at the head of the table. Merry recounted the time Aragorn “mercilessly taunted me while I was ailing in the Houses of Healing! I had just stabbed the Witch King himself, if you’ll believe it, and here was my friend telling me I had lost gear that was sitting by the bed the whole time!” Gimli and Legolas shared many tales of their time as ‘The Three Hunters’. The one that earned Gimli the most laughter was the abject horror of being awoken well before dawn only for Aragorn to lay himself flat on the ground for “nearly a whole age of men” to declare many horses were nearby…only for Legolas to be able to see them on the horizon and correctly count them. Éomer was all too happy to chime in that Legolas had been only three riders off on his count, before adding his own note on how he nearly killed all three of them on sight. He then apologized to Merry and Pippin, for easily the hundredth time, for almost inadvertently killing them while killing the band of orcs who had captured them. 

By the end of the night, King Elessar doffed his ceremonial headwear and pulled out his pipe. Once he lit it, he tossed a bag of pipeweed to Pippin with a grin and a nod. The court gaped at the King who had turned into a Ranger before their eyes, though many who had seen this mood take their Lord before just chuckled. Aragorn looked around and grinned. They could gape and murmur, for this night was a celebration of all that had been hard won, and the uncouth and unendingly frustrating hobbit gesturing wildly while telling all there was to know of the Battle of Isengard and the Final March of the Ents won much of their bounty back for them. Tonight needed no lecture. 

Joyous News

Nearly silent feet padded down the hallway outside Aragorn’s office. Had Aragorn not spent several decades around hobbits, and a decade listening for that sound in his own palace, he never would have heard it. Pippin had been in Minas Tirith for only two days, and mischief was already afoot apparently. “Stri-” Pippin started and skidded to a halt, and his jaw snapped shut. “My Lord,” he began again and then addressed the Captain- General standing before Aragorn’s desk. “My sincerest apologies to you both,” he mumbled. Glee still danced in the hobbit’s eyes despite the faint hue of pink on his cheeks. “I will come back later. I did not mean to interrupt.” 

“Peregrin,” the officer said and gestured him into the office, “join us. There is clearly news to be shared. Do not let me keep you from it.”

“Sire, please. I mean no offense, but this is news I need to tell Str- King Elessar alone.” Pippin caught himself midway through the old nickname. When he did, he looked up at Aragorn rather abashedly - the pink dusting to his cheeks darkening. Rarely did Pippin truly feel shame for breaking proper court etiquette, but breaking rank in front of his superior military officers was one of few things for which he felt ashamed, however. His place within the army was more ceremonial than anything else at this point, but he drilled each time he came to court and practiced with any those he could at home. It was a matter of pride that he maintained his skills. The practice of going through his drills kept the memory of Boromir alive, and Pippin meant to honor his promise to Denethor to serve Gondor until his dying breath in repayment of his debt for Boromir’s death.

Aragorn sighed and rose from his seat. He was not escaping the back and forth of deference that was brewing between these two. Pippin had already derailed the meeting and taken the focus off the report of Southrond raiding parties harrying several outlying communities. “Captain-General, if you would please excuse us for the briefest of moments. Clearly something urgent of a personal nature has come up, but I will return shortly.” Aragorn’s voice was tight, but he motioned towards the side door that led to a private side room off the office. Pippin shuffled in behind Aragorn. The embarrassment at his multiple slips of the tongue were gone from Pippin’s face when Aragorn turned to face him. All that remained was a grin that stretched from ear to ear. “What on all of Arda is going on? And did no page or guard inform you I was in a meeting?” Aragorn asked.

“Well, as for pages and guards…no, but I did not really give them a chance to stop me either, for all my excitement.” “Then out with it, man!” Aragorn laughed, shaking his head with disbelief and amusement alike. His aggravation was quickly waning in the face of Pippin’s delight.

“I’m going to be a father! Diamond is pregnant!” Pippin exclaimed. 

The Captain-General standing on the other side of the thin wall with his urgent report no longer held even a fraction of his importance as he had moments before. Aragorn dropped to his knees to embrace Pippin. Aragorn’s lingering annoyance at the interruption and Pippin’s continued struggle to keep the name Strider behind closed doors was forgotten. “Well, that is a worthy reason to interrupt a meeting - and a reason to celebrate!”

“I would say so! Though, had I known you were otherwise engaged, I would have at least waited in the hall. It’s not as though the bairn is going anywhere just yet.”

“No, indeed, but I will gladly be interrupted for joyous news, my good hobbit.” Aragorn looked to the door and then back to Pippin. “I have to hear this last report, but go find Arwen and Diamond. I think we are all done working for the day. It is time to celebrate a new generation of Tooks.” As Pippin turned to leave, Aragorn added, “But Pippin, you have to let the staff stop you next time even if I welcome interruptions for good news - and please, after eight years, stop calling me Strider while we are working.”

“As you wish, Strider!” Pippin called halfway out the door. Aragorn groaned and shook his head, gesturing for the Captain-General to take the seat across from the desk.

“Do not ask, for I have neither the time nor the energy to explain,” Aragorn said in answer to the inquisitive look the man gave him.

Infrastructure of the Fourth Age

“It will never work, Strider,” Pippin interrupted in the middle of Aragorn’s explanation of his plan to dig new wells in the lower levels and outlying communities surrounding Minas Tirith as the city’s population outgrew the confines of its walls - and the limits of their water supply. Most of the assembled advisors, craftsmen, and lords present were well used to the behavior of the Thrain of the Shire. Several were not, and looked wide eyed between the King and his Knight. Aragorn looked at the ceiling as though he expected to find an answer to the riddle of Pippin’s behavior there. There was none. Strictly speaking, he was not even needed or invited to this meeting, but he had a habit of poking his head into court sessions that were not pertinent to his duties or position. 

“Thrain Took. Please. I welcome your thoughts and opinions, but I cannot abide your interruptions or use of familiar names during council meetings. We have discussed this at length,” Aragorn said sternly once he looked back at the hobbit and after a long sigh.

“My apologies, your majesty, but I do not beg your pardon. You cannot hold this old hobbit at fault. I simply forget myself in my advanced age,” Pippin said. The room stilled. Aragorn laughed despite himself. At one point, he hoped and expected Pippin to mellow as he aged, but the opposite proved to be the case. Each year the hobbit became bolder, but he was savvier about it. There were few times, however, where he sounded much like his younger self. 

“I have heard that excuse before from an old hobbit in Rivendell who blamed senility for gaffs. I did not believe him then, just as I do not believe you now,” Aragorn said and smirked.

“You may choose to believe me or not as you wish,” Pippin said with a shrug, “but that does not change the fact that I think this plan is entirely foolish and ill conceived - and I agreed to march on the Black Gates with you. And that was a plan with near certainty of death and small chance of success. This, I would wager, has no chance of success.” A few of the younger people in attendance gasped. Most of the older council members laughed under their breath. Pippin matched Aragorn’s smirk and did not flinch. This was the level of pointed discussion they reserved for Aragorn’s study and had over a bottle of wine. However, Aragorn had not shared this plan with Pippin - as it truly was not a plan that impacted the hobbit in any fashion, nor did it seem a plan that would interest him. Apparently, he should have.

“And do you have another suggestion then, Thrain Took?”

“As a matter of fact, yes,” Pippin declared in a smug tone with a grin to match. “We just had to manage the exact same issue in Hobbiton - granted we lack the many levels and such owing to most hobbits not even handling homes with second stories well, let alone a city of multiple levels with buildings of even more levels - but good ol’ Merry and some of Legolas’ elves came up with a brilliant way to reroute some of the water from the Brandywine to make new distributaries! I think we may need to do the same here.”

“And why would wells not work as they always have?” Aragorn challenged, but his words held no heat, nor did he ask unkindly. There was an elegance to the idea Pippin was proposing, and Aragorn was keen to hear it. Now came to the political jockeying needed to sell opposition to one of Pippin’s less tactical rebukes of a plan proposed by Aragorn. “How in the world do you think you are going to find new well sites that nobody in the history of this city has found? Are you going to go digging up roads all over the first and second level? No. You most certainly aren’t. Instead you can reroute some small distributaries off the Anduin to create a water source in the outlying communities and then work with Gimli and the other dwarves of Aglarond on a system for running that source up to the first and second levels. They have to have a system for it in their caves.”

“Master Thrain,” Aragorn said flatly.

“Yes, my lord?” Pippin asked.

“I am commissioning you back into my service for this project. You are now the lead on it. But, Peregrin, do not interrupt me like that or address me so in any of the meetings on it again.”

“I shall do as my lord bids me,” Pippin said. The smug grin on his face had never faded for a moment. The old members of the council rolled their eyes, and the young ones still gaped at him. Aragorn sighed and shook his head once again. 

Sounds You Miss

Years dragged on and Aragorn found the gift of his long life became a curse once again. His friends were aging before his eyes while he stayed ever young. Sam sailed after Rosie passed away. Éomer died in the autumn two years before. The men of Aragorn’s guard when he first took the throne were dead or fading before his eyes. Their sons served him now. This was not the first generation of men that had passed before his eyes, but this was the first he had spent the majority of in one place, the first he tied himself to closely. 

Aragorn sat upon his throne and attempted to focus on the day’s open court. Truly, he put a valiant effort towards it, but his mind refused to bend to his will. The citizens of Gondor brought their woes, struggles, and strife to him once a week - more often if he could manage it- and he always listened intently. He did his best to resolve each issue that came before him, and he was known for his attentiveness and benevolence amongst his subjects. Today he simply could not manage to keep his focus trained upon the proceedings. It was instead in the building nearly directly below him where Merry and Pippin had resided for some time now. Neither were well. The ravages of age spared none of the mortal beings of Middle Earth, no matter how desperately those who would outlive wished it to be otherwise. Their aged bodies looked like shadows of the young hobbits Aragorn had once known. Merry struggled to use his right arm no matter how Aragorn strove to heal it. Pippin fared far worse. His lungs failed him frequently, and his knees plagued him with pain. Despite it all, they still insisted on coming up to the citadel for nearly every meal, and their spirits were high as ever. Age and weariness could not diminish those, nor could it quiet their laughter. Withered as he was, Pippin continued to be as unruly as in his youth. Except for the past few days. Of late, He seemed distant - like he had one foot beyond this land. 

Heavy boots thundered down the hallway towards the throne room. Aragorn tensed. All eyes turned to face the source of the sound. Eldarion came to a skidding halt before his father. He faced King Elessar red in the face and panting. “Pippin?” Aragorn asked. His voice was already thick and choked with tears. His son need not answer. Lest peril had befallen his siblings or mother, there was nothing that would have made him run so. All the same, Eldarion nodded. Aragorn rose slowly from his seat and composed himself enough that he hoped his voice would not shake. “Court is adjourned for the day.” His voice held an air of finality which none dared defy. “Please see the Master of Ceremony on your way out, and he will take note of that which you came to address. When I am able, I will review all issues submitted. Now I must attend to a matter that I fear cannot wait.” With instructions given, Aragorn stepped down from the throne and moved as hastily as he could without looking entirely undignified through the crowd of subjects, but as soon as he was out of sight of the main hallways and corridors, he was running.

The air in Bair Nestad felt stifling. There was a tension that could have been sliced through by a sword. Every healer stepped aside wordlessly and bowed their heads as Aragorn made his way to Pippin’s room. Typically, he was greeted with warm smiles entering this space, and not infrequently he offered aid or advice. Not this day, however. The scene that greeted Aragorn on the other side of the door brought him up short. Merry - old and stiff as he was - was seated cross legged on the too big bed. Tears ran silently down his cheeks while he dabbed at Pippin’s forehead with a wet towel. The younger hobbit’s face was pale. Far paler than he had been even the night before. A cough had plagued for weeks, but he had continued to claim all was well. Now his lips had gone blue. Even the sound of heavy footsteps did not rouse Pippin. “The fever took him in the night. Didn’t tell a soul,” Merry said without prompting, “he can’t catch his breath anymore.”

At the sound of Merry’s voice, Pippin’s eyes opened slowly. His gaze was unfocused and distant until he saw Aragorn. His face broke into a weak smile, but before he could say a word a coughing fit that wracked his entire frail body overtook him. “Let me go fetch some herbs. We can treat the fever and soothe the cough,” Aragorn began, but Pippin shook his head with what little strength he could muster.

“There is nothing left to try,” he croaked. His voice was so faint that it could barely be heard even in the silent room. “Just come sit with me, my old friend.” Aragorn sighed. Every part of him yearned to fight the invisible foe that plagued Pippin. This was no battle that could be won with Andúril, nor yet by all the trainings of Elrond in the days of his youth. This battle was the same one that destroyed the Númenoreans and nearly decimated Gondor itself. It was one with no victory. The battle against time and age. 

“As you wish,” Aragorn answered reluctantly after several seconds.

Aragorn sat beside Pippin for hours. There was idle chatter here and there. Sometimes with Merry while Pippin slept. Every once and a while, he would wake, and the three friends would recount the old days, rather Merry and Aragorn retold Pippin’s stories to him with Pippin correcting them when they forgot the fabrications he added over the years. Eldarion and all those who had come to love the Thrain over the years came by to say their goodbyes. The King never left his Knight’s side. Eventually Pippin let him send for Athelas to ease the pain that came with each coughing fit. It comforted all who sat vigil, and the tension lessened in Pippin’s face while it brewed beside him. The room smelled of the woods of The Shire, and when Pippin first smelled it, he smiled and sighed. “Home…would that I could see it once more.”

“Maybe you can, Pip! We might be able to take one last grand adventure yet!” Merry tried to make the words sound hopeful, but they came out hollow.

“I think the only adventure that awaits me, old Merry, is whatever comes next. If you do make it back to The Shire, tell Faramir I love him for me. I’ll tell Sam and Frodo ‘hello’ for you, when I get wherever I am going - if they ever went there, that is.” Pippin’s words were weak. 

With each time he woke, his gaze became more distant. Both Merry and Aragorn clung tightly to his hands as though they could keep their friend with them for even a few extra moments if they just held on tight enough.

“Merry lad,” Pippin murmured at length. 

“Yeah, Pip?”

“I don’t know if I ever thanked Treebeard for making me the tallest hobbit on record. Could you do that for me, please?” Both Merry and Aragorn laughed through the tears rolling down their cheeks.

“I think I can manage that, but I think he knows you are grateful to him for it. Don’t worry about that just now.”

“I wish I could see him again. Him and Quickbeam. They are such odd fellows. And Bombadill. We never would have made it home without them.”

“We will make sure they all know they were on your mind,” Aragorn said gently and had to swallow down the lump forming in his throat.

“We never could have made it home without you either, and to think we almost didn’t trust you to go with us at all.”

“Well, don’t go counting me in that tally, Pip. I wasn’t there to not trust him, remember?” Pippin laughed. The sound came out more as a wheeze that caused him to start coughing once more. His lips were even more blue than when Aragorn first reached the Houses of Healing, and Pippin’s fingers were cold in his hand. “But I won’t fight your revisions - just this one time,” Merry added as an afterthought.

“Our King and protector from the day we met you,” Pippin said. A smile graced his features, and for just one last moment Aragorn could see the young hobbit saying that asked him about second breakfast, and then Pippin’s eyes fell closed for the final time. The name Strider seemed to hang in the air, but Aragorn never heard it again. 

Epilogue:

Pippin laid in state for a week. Tradition stated he be laid to rest in his uniform, but Merry insisted he wear his favorite coat and scarf, and so it was. At Aragorn’s insistence, Pippin’s livery lay folded at his feet to carry his honor with him wherever this last journey took him. Aragorn would not dream of laying Pippin to rest in his uniform. He was a hobbit of The Shire foremost and a soldier second, but he fought valiantly. He needed that honor to stay with him. His sword, in true warrior’s fashion, was placed upon his breast. It was an odd picture: the bright colors of a hobbit’s traditional dress paired with the barrow blade. It felt fitting for the hobbit who caused trouble everywhere he went. Aragorn could think of nothing that would bring Pippin more joy than to know he caused a ruckus in court even in his death.

Mourners lined up all the way down to the fifth level to bid farewell to Ernîl Pheriannath. Each day the queue would begin at sunrise, and each day they came to lay flowers at the base of the bed upon which he rested and say their final goodbyes. A mere few hours before Pippin’s funeral, Aragorn stood before him. Aragorn wore no royal finery - hadn’t since he returned to his chambers from Bair Nestad - instead he wore the same clothes he wore the very first night he met the hobbits in Brie. The coat had more patches and the shirt was more threadbare than that night, but it mattered not. They were more treasured to Aragorn than any ceremonial tunic and cloak. No other hand mended them, not even Arwen. Now more than ever before they felt sacred. A last anchor to the Ranger of the North Pippin vowed to which Pippin swore to serve as anchor. 

Each time Aragorn thought he could cry no more tears, more welled in his eyes. Now he wept openly. The sobs rang off the stone walls. It was not the first time in the past week he found himself in this position. The first night Merry found him there, and they cried together. When there were no tears left in either of them, they took a bottle of elven wine to the outer wall and drank and shared stories until the sun rose.

This night nobody came, and Aragorn was glad for it. Anger held his heart as much as grief. Blessed with long life, they said. It was no blessing to watch nearly all he held dear fade before his eyes. It was a curse greater than any he could fathom. There were only so many friends one man could lay to rest and watch sail away from him. Each time Aragorn stood before a crowd and spoke of the courageous deeds of those he fought beside and journeyed with it felt like his world shrunk that much more. Pippin left the world far smaller than his small stature accounted for and quieter than Aragorn could have ever predicted. At each turn he expected to hear “Strider!” called from down the hall followed by the sound of small bare feet slapping the stone. 

With a shaky step, Aragorn stepped up to Pippin. For just a moment, Aragorn saw the hobbit as he was during the War of the Ring: a young hobbit asleep in a bed roll needing to be roused for another day on the march. A simpler time - albeit infinitely more perilous. A time before Aragorn wore the weight of the winged crown. “Strider I shall ever remain, my dear hobbit, ere I draw my last breath. I shall not let the wings of my crown fly me away from my roots.”

Bonus:

Aragorn never experienced the Sea Longing of the elves, but he knew when it was time to lay himself down for his final rest. His body did not move as it once did, and he was weary. This world no longer held him like it once did. When the time came, he said his goodbyes and felt no regrets. Arwen asked one last time for him to say, but Middle Earth was no longer his home. Aragorn had given every piece of himself to it. To saving it. Rebuilding it. Nurturing it. Growing it. His time had come to an end. When Aragorn shut his eyes for the last time, rest took him quickly, and at last he was at peace. 

He tried to roll over and shield himself from the light to sleep a few more minutes, but then his mind caught up to what he had just done. Aragorn’s eyes snapped open, and he was forced to blink against the brightness until his eyes adjusted to light around him. It seemed to have no clear source. He was laying in an unfamiliar bed. The room was nondescript and unadorned with no windows. Aragorn sat on the edge of the bed, assessing the situation. An open door faced him with an even brighter hallway beyond it. With no other clear option, he slid on the boots beside him. The feel of the old leather brought a smile to his face. Then he grabbed the familiar green leather jacket laying on the end of the bed, and walked out into the hallway. 

One end of the hall was a dead end and the other was the source of all the light. It was a blindingly bright glow that obscured any terminus. Aragorn faced it and concluded that was the only way he was supposed to go. With a sigh, he set out. As he neared the light, it resolved into a large, open corridor with many hallways branching off of it. Aragorn looked from one direction to the other and froze. Just as he was about to choose a direction at random, the sound of small, bare, running feet came echoing down the hall on his left. Aragorn froze. He refused to feel hopeful. Refused to look. “Strider!” a familiar voice cried from his left. Aragorn’s breath caught in his throat. Fifty three years he had waited to hear Pippin say the name that had hung in the air since after he died. “Strider!” he called again, and Aragorn turned to see Pippin barreling towards him at a pace the hobbit had not been able to run for many years. He looked just as he had that first night in Bree down to his jacket and scarf. 

“Pippin,” Aragorn sobbed and fell to his knees just in time to catch Pippin in his arms. “My dear, dear hobbit. How I have missed hearing you call that name.”

“Did you manage to stay firmly on the ground, or did those wings you wore fly you away? I hoped I reminded you who you are enough times before I left you, but I have fretted a few times that I didn’t quite do enough.”

Aragorn shuffled back from Pippin enough to take a good look at him and shook his head in disbelief. “You did plenty enough to remind me who I am, but I hope I never have to go without hearing you call my name - whichever you want at any time and in any place - ever again.”

“Well, you are in luck, Strider. As it turns out, we hobbits go the same place men do, and everyone is waiting for you.”

A/N: So I made myself cry like 17 times writing the last parts of this thing. I apologize for the pain, but I hope you enjoyed!

///////////////////////////Tagging those who liked my original post//////////////////

@wisheduponastar

@stayindraw

@randalekobolt

@emmbethsstuff

@salivary-gland

@softboiledwonderland

@denerturee

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@hastyhobbit

@elenna-elrondiel

@gentlegentian

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@unwordy

[jewishcissiekj]

Truly insane to me sometimes that Dave Filoni used to tell Anna Graves (Satine's voice actress) and Ashley Eckstein (Ahsoka's voice actress) how their character was going to die and had multiple plans for it because his original female characters were really just that expandable to him

[user-needs-new-hyperfixation]

You know how we joke about the array being like a group chat or social media? Well imagine if prayers went into a sort of heavenly email inbox. And when Xie Lian ascends for the third time, he expects his to be empty aside from the occasional spam from someone trying to schmooze up to every god they can think of, or the sadder chain emails from people desperate for help from anywhere.

Instead, he opens it and finds thousands upon thousands of prayers dating back throughout the entirety of his banishment, all from the same untraceable source. He opens random ones. Some are sweet little things, "Your Highness, wherever you are tonight, I hope you sleep well."

Others are more complex, "Your Highness, I find myself in a position where I must either seize power myself or risk it falling into other, more wicked hands. My own hands will inevitably be dirtied by wielding that power, but would they not be just as tainted if I did nothing, and let worse things happen? I know what I will choose, but I still wonder what you would do in my place."

Others still make him blush tomato red up to the tops of his ears, trailing babble still imbued with frantic eroticism and clearly never meant to actually reach him, cutting in and out like a poorly tuned radio as the devotee tries to keep thoughts from becoming prayers, panted strings of "Your Highness, Your Highness, please please please..."

The prayers date back to a few years after his second banishment, which makes sense because his inbox had been wiped when he was banished. He's surprised it's been allowed to gather all of this since: he supposes it's just that no one has even thought to notice. The centuries the prayers span makes it clear they do not come from a human, which is confusing and intriguing in equal measure.

And then, early on, he finds one that makes his heart stop and then take off again at a gallop.

"None of them are quite right, Your Highness. If I carve a thousand, ten thousand, will I eventually get it right? Will I ever be able to capture the kindness and the ferocity you radiate in something as base and cold as stone? I'll keep trying forever, or until I can see you again in the flesh. Your Highness has a believer here who still offers worship."

And that is how Xie Lian realizes that Wu Ming still exists.

(Insert long canon-divergent AU I'm too lazy to write here. I think there needs to be some kooky misunderstandings. Xie Lian is now aware that Wu Ming is out there and loves him and is looking for him and is so distracted by his determination to find him that it takes him 600k words of stubbornly denying his growing affection for Hua Cheng before he finally realizes Hua Cheng IS Wu Ming and has been desperately trying to court him for several volumes.)

[pastryfication]

Can you please do Oscar x reader, who's birthday is coming up but she doesn't want to celebrate or acknowledge it?

I'm that way. My birthday is on the 30th. 🥺

happy birthday!!! i hope you have an amazing day, love xx

this is my gift to you ❤️🥳

birthday celebrations | oscar piastri

pairing: oscar piastri x reader

content warnings: oscar being the perfect boyfriend.

you wake up to the soft light filtering through the curtains, the warmth of your blanket cocooning you against the world outside.

you snuggle deeper into the bed, just wanting to hide. today is your birthday, a day you’ve dreaded for as long as you can remember. birthdays have never been your thing—too much fuss, too many expectations. you’d rather it pass like any other day, quiet and unremarkable. but your boyfriend has other plans.

you hear the faint clatter of pots and pans in the kitchen and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafting through the air. curiosity piques, and you pull yourself out of bed, padding softly to the source of the noise.

and there he is, oscar, standing by the stove, a look of concentration on his face as he prepares your favorite breakfast—fluffy pancakes with strawberries and jam. he turns, catching sight of you, and his face lights up with a smile that melts your reluctance just a little.

“happy birthday, love,” he says, coming over to kiss your forehead. you try to protest, to remind him that you don’t want a big deal made out of today, but he hushes you gently.

“just a simple breakfast,” he insists, guiding you to the table.

breakfast is a cozy affair, the two of you sitting close together at the small kitchen table. the pancakes are perfect, made exactly like you love them, and the berries are sweet and fresh. oscar keeps the conversation light, steering clear of any mention of birthdays or celebrations. he knows you too well, and it makes your heart swell with gratitude.

after breakfast, oscar insists on a lazy morning. he pulls you back to bed, rewrapping you in a cocoon of blankets and his arms. the two of you spend hours cuddling, watching your favorite shows, and simply enjoying each other's company. his constant attention and gentle touches make you feel cherished, and you start to wonder if maybe, just maybe, birthdays aren't so bad when spent like this.

the day slowly unfolds in a series of small, thoughtful gestures. oscar dotes on you, bringing you tea while you read and stealing kisses when he thinks you aren’t paying attention. he suggests a walk in the park, knowing how much you love the feel of the sun on your face and the rustle of leaves underfoot, and you walk hand in hand through your favourite park.

as the evening approaches, you start to worry about what he might have planned. you’ve made it clear you don’t want a party, and oscar has always respected your wishes, but birthdays make you wary. he sees the tension in your shoulders and wraps his arms around you from behind.

“i know you don’t want a big celebration,” he murmurs into your ear, “but i thought a quiet dinner with a few of your closest friends might be nice. just us, no fuss.”

you turn to face him, searching his eyes for any sign of deceit. all you see is his genuine desire to make you happy, and it softens your resolve. you nod, agreeing to the dinner, trusting that he’ll keep it simple.

when your friends arrive, the atmosphere is warm and intimate, just as oscar promised. there’s no grand entrance nor any loud singing, just the comfort of familiar faces and easy conversation. you find yourself relaxing, enjoying the evening more than you expected. the dinner is delicious, the laughter infectious. you catch oscar’s eye across the table, and he gives you a wink that makes your heart flutter.

as the night winds down, and your friends start to leave, you realize that today hasn’t been so bad. in fact, it’s been kind of wonderful. oscar walks you to bed, his hand in yours, and you snuggle into his side, feeling a contentment you hadn’t anticipated.

“thank you,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“for what?” he asks, feigning innocence.

“for making today special,” you reply, “without making it too much.”

he smiles, pulling you closer. “anything for you, my love.”

and as you drift off to sleep, you think that maybe, just maybe, birthdays aren’t so terrible after all.

[comicwritesstuff]

okay this is so incredibly specific so please feel free to ignore BUT i’ve been wanting to read a fic for ages where the reader is Chase’s childhood best friend from Australia and she moves to New Jersey for a fresh start. She’s staying with Chase while she gets settled, and one day she comes to visit him at lunch at the hospital, where she ends up meeting House and he’s… intrigued by her 👀 either romantic or smut would be so very cool :^D <33 💐

YES. I LOVE THIS PROMPT IM SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG BUT IM FINISHED!!!

Gregory House x Fem!Chases bsf!Reader

Warnings: None really, just cussing and tooth rotting fluff >:) 3k+ words.

Chase's POV: 

“Well I was just wondering if we could go out sometime, I think you're really-” My attention shifted as y/n's call lit up my phone, interrupting the conversation. It was a more pressing matter than pursuing a one-night stand.

“Excuse me for a moment.” I say walking away, the woman having an annoyed look on her face. 

I answer the phone.

“Hello, y/n? Whats up” 

“Chase! Long time no talk haha.”

“You called me yesterday.”

“Learn to take a joke, anyways, I have some exciting news for you.”

“I’m moving to New Jersey!!” 

“Wait what? Really?”

“Yeah, I kinda forgot to tell you and i'm actually at the airport right now, so I hope you aren't busy tomorrow so you can pick me up.”

“Wow, um alright, yeah I can pick you up, do you have a place to stay?"

“Um…no…” I sigh, “Just stay at mine for now.”

“Don't even with the sigh i’ve known you my whole life you can put the nightly hookups on hold for your best friend.” 

I smirk and shake my head, “Yeah yeah, I’ll see ya tomorrow y/n” 

Y/N’s POV:

I smile as I hang up with Chase, grabbing my luggage and pulling it along the airport. Ahh yes, crying babies, rushed parents, annoying couples and that one insanely attractive person you see for a split second, I love the airport. 

Glancing at my ticket I realize I might have to hurry to make it to the gate, speed walking I see a text from chase, “Have a safe flight.” Let's hope so. 

Time skip (to lazy to write all the details about fucking airports)

Relaxing on a 21-hour flight proved challenging, especially with a toddler nearby. It was unclear whether the toddler would be a source of annoyance or just be tolerable. The flight just started. So to entertain myself I decide to do some digging about Chase's job, he brags about it all the time and the infamous Dr Gregory House. To be honest I thought Chase was gay for a little while with how much he talks about him. Still speculating. 

The plane lifts off and I start my look, at first just looking up Gregory House, a surprising amount of things show up. An article titled, “Gregory House, Talented Doctor? Or a lying Narcissist?” Oh well that's a good first impression.   

Scrolling down I see another article, “The world's greatest doctor, and his deepest secrets” 

Now that's enticing. I click on it only to find out his deepest secrets, including using 3 in one shampoo and how his leg got hurt. I guess people hardly know anything about him. I click on the photos of him, there's only a couple, most of them blurry but to be honest he's pretty good looking from the photos I can see. I’d honestly be gay for him if I was Chase. 

The toddler next to me starts giggling, I glance at her and notice her staring at a picture of House. She's kicking her feet too. That's so relatable. 

For the rest of the flight I find some stuff about this guy named Taub, who somehow also figured out that he cheated on his wife which is why he had to quit. How did I find that out? I took a coding class in 8th grade. (I got lucky) 

Lisa Cuddy the Dean of Medicine, unfortunately only good stuff about her, boring. 

Remy Hadley, oddly, can't find anything on her. 

Eric Foreman, his brothers in jail, fun. 

And the others are just as boring. For the remainder of the flight, the toddler proved surprisingly chill. I passed the time by binge-watching random movies I had downloaded earlier

*Another time skip to plane landing* 

Finally, 21 hours on a fucking plane is horrible. 

I check my phone after I take it off airplane mode, seeing a text from chase a couple minutes ago. 

“I’m at the airport, is your flight done?”

“Yep, wya.”

“I’m parked in the front.”

“That's specific” 

“There's no other front dumbass”

I roll my eyes at his text, and get off the plane as soon as I can. I walk out and see Chase standing outside his car waiting for me. His eyes light up as he spots me, and a grin spreads across his face. Unable to resist, I rush forward and envelop him in a bear hug.

“Man you’re a lot uglier in person” 

I say jokingly, smirking.

“Oh shut up”  

We climbed into his car, and he drove us back to his apartment. When we arrive he helps get my crap into the house, before he gets a call saying he had to head to work. 

Eventually a week or two passes, I've gotten more comfortable in his apartment, applied for a bunch of jobs, and looked for places to stay so I’m not invading his “man” space anymore. Unfortunately there aren't a lot of options, and no jobs have replied to my applications, which is weird since im overqualified, it's almost like they aren’t even getting my applications in the first place. 

I’m doing the dishes when I get a text from Chase.

“Hey, I left my wallet on the counter, so I don’t have money for food, could ya bring it for me?” 

“Nah”

“See you soon”

I breathe out a laugh and grab his wallet, putting a coat on then driving to the hospital. 

When I get there I walk in, looking around before I call Chase, “Where do I go this place is huge” I can hear talking in the background, actually more like arguing. “Uhm just wait at the entrance i’ll be right there.” He says in a whisper.

He hangs up so I just stand there awkwardly waiting, that was a weird ass phone call. To be fair Chase is a weird ass guy with weird ass coworkers so what do I expect at this point. 

Before I see Chase I see Dr Gregory House, limping quickly towards me. And damn he’s even hotter in person than the pictures I saw of him. 

“Hey, no time to explain, you need to come with me.” He grabs my arm dragging me into the elevator. Before it closes I see Chase come out of the stairway, he sprints towards the elevator but it closes. I hear him trying to say something, but it's muffled and I can’t understand it. Wait why the fuck did I even follow House? 

“You're real compliant, you’d make a great hooker.” 

I turn around and side eye him.

“Thanks, so would you.” I say giving a fake smile. 

“Speaking of compliant, why did you drag me away from Chase? What's going on?’’

“I made a bet with Chase.”

“That's really specific and helpful thanks” 

“Oh yeah no problem” 

Sarcastic asshole. 

“If you don’t tell me, I'll stop following you and go with Chase.” 

He rolls his eyes.

“Fine, Mom! The bet is that I can convince you to work as my assistant here.”

“Really? That's it? I need a job. Why would Chase even bet against that?” 

“He thinks you’ll fall in love with me so he doesn’t want that to happen, in his words, “She has a thing for homeless looking, narcissistic assholes with beards.” So he’s trying to prevent it, and he’s sure he can.”  

Damn- I feel so called out. I stay silent before nodding.

“Well to be honest he isn’t wrong.” 

I see House smirk before we get out of the elevator, he hobbles and leads me to his office, locking the door then having me sit down. 

As I sit down in front of his desk, he grabs a ball and starts throwing it against the wall, while sitting down. 

“So are you gonna interview me or something?” 

“Yeah, I’m just waiting for Chase to get back up here so he can watch me interview you.” 

He really is an asshole…it's kinda hot though. 

“Fair enough.” 

We wait a bit before Chase comes jogging up to the door, out of breath, he’s clearly been running plenty. He starts banging on the glass door that House previously locked.

“House!! Y/N! Let me in! This isn’t fair!” He exclaims, House is grinning when he leans over his desk, crossing his arms.

“Okay! Let’s start this interview now.” 

“Y/n! You traitor!” 

Did I abandon my childhood best friend for some disabled doctor? No, I did it for the job. At least that's what I'm telling myself.   

Turning my attention back to House instead of the Australian cry baby outside the door, he asks me, “First question, do you want the job of being my assistant?” 

“Obviously”

“Great! You have the job!” 

I mean, easy enough. I smile and shake my head. This hospital really has some unique people. 

House shakes my hand, grinning as Chase is sitting on the floor defeated outside. 

As the days turned into weeks at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, I got to know everyone. Cuddy had to actually approve of me working as House’s assistant first, but once she saw a…normal enough individual, she welcomed me into the environment.

Getting to know House better, I found myself drawn to him in ways I hadn’t really expected. The bet between House and Chase, Chase thinking I would fall for House, I took it as a joke, until that joke turned more into reality. 

Despite House being a narcissistic piece of shit, there were small moments that I saw, or shared with him that made me fall for him. Ones where he seemed happy, or just easy to be around. At work he's serious but when Wilson dragged him out to bars, or other social environments, he could actually be fun. And though him being a dick is undeniably attractive sometimes, when he was…”himself” that's how I began to fall for him.  

One day, after an especially tough day for the team, and being forced to go break into houses and get coffee and food, I found myself alone with House in his office. The rest of the team had left, leaving us in a rare moment alone with each other. As I glanced up from the medical chart of the most recent patient, I caught House’s gaze lingering on me, his blue eyes intense and unreadable. 

“Something on your mind, House?” I asked, attempting to break the awkward silence between us. 

He smirked, leaning back in his chair with a casual ease, “Oh just wondering why a catch like yourself doesn’t have a boyfriend, or husband?” He responds, his tone laced with flirtatiousness.

I couldn’t help but chuckle at his response, a faint blush on my cheeks. House and I had gained an uncanny camaraderie, made from me running around doing everyone's paperwork, being the designated “you get to tell patients they are dying!!” person. And as you’d expect people didn’t respect me a lot, but if someone was blatantly mean to me, House would step in and destroy their self esteem in a second and walk away like it meant nothing. That's another thing that I think made me fall for him. 

“Believe me, I’ve been asking myself that a lot too.” I smile, placing the medical chart on his desk. 

“Do you want a boyfriend? Or girlfriend, or a pet or something.” He quips, his eyes looking like they are reading me, studying my every movement and reaction to what he’s saying, it's flattering and uncomfortable at the same time. 

“A boyfriend would be nice.” I say reassuringly, a laugh escaping me as I shake my head in amusement.

“Alright let's say *hypothetically* I asked you out. *hypothetically* what would your response be?” 

Raising an eyebrow I ask, “Are you trying to go on a date with me?”

“I said hypothetically, now answer the question.” 

A smirk plays on my lips as I roll my eyes in a mock annoyance. 

“Well.” I say, “Hypothetically, I would say yes.” 

“Great, meet me for dinner at (some random fancy place idk u make up a name i'm too lazy to), wear something cute.” 

 With that, he sauntered out of the office, leaving me to think about what just happened. Glancing at the clock, I realized I had just enough time to get ready for our “hypothetical date.” 

The anticipation bubbled within me, standing outside (IDK A RESTAURANT NAME IT), waiting for House to arrive. My heart raced with nervous excitement, unsure what to expect from a…unique…guy like House. I had used all the time I had to work on my outfit, settling for a simple dress (or suit, or just anything you're comfy in :) ). 

As I scanned the busy street, searching for any sign of House, I heard the obnoxiously loud sound of a motorcycle approaching. House rode in, parking his bike before getting off and walking (limping) towards me. My breath caught in my throat as I saw him, he looked impossibly handsome, in a tailored suit that made his rugged charm come out, good god he looked fine. 

“Y/n,” he greeted with a warm smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners in genuine affection. “That outfit makes your ass look nice.” 

I scoff playfully, hitting his arm. “So much for acting like a gentleman, at least you look like one.” 

He chuckled, offering me his arm in a more gentlemanly gesture. “Yeah yeah, shall we?” 

With a nod, I looped my arm through his, savoring the warmth of his touch as we mad our way into the restaurant. The ambiance was elegant and inviting, with a soft candlelight casting a warm glow over the decor. 

As we were seated at a table in a quiet corner of the restaurant, I couldn’t help but feel a flutter of excitement in my chest. I’m finally going out with House, damn Chase was totally right. 

Throughout the evening, our conversation flowed surprisingly easily between us. I had half expected him to be rude or stuck up, but he seemed actually interested in me, in my life. He was asking questions, laughing and joking with me. Sharing stories of his own, and treating me like an actual human. Honestly it was scaring me a bit, but it was making me fall harder for him. 

House raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes. ‘So, tell my Y/N. What’s the most embarrassing thing that's happened to you?” 

I laughed, shaking my head as I thought about the memory. “Well, there was this one time in college-” 

“Let me guess,” House interrupted, a smirk playing on his lips. “It involved copious amounts of alcohol and very questionable decisions?” 

I chuckle and nod in agreement. “You could say that. Long story short, I ended up streaking through the campus fountain at three in the morning. I'm pretty sure Chase might still have a video of it still.”

House raises an eyebrow, an amused laugh coming from him. “I wish I could say I was surprised, oh and also. I am finding that video.” He states, with a determined and mischievous grin. 

The dinner continues and our connection just seems to get stronger, fueled by shared laughter, stories of shit Wilson and him did in college, things Chase and I did in highschool. With each passing moment, I found myself more and more under House’s spell, captivated by the complexity of himself, his character. His gaze, laughter, even his personality. Maybe it was the wine or something, but House was being nice, he had charisma, and was being attractive in general.  

I don’t even realize that we’ve spent almost three hours in the restaurant just talking. I check my phone seeing that it's 9:30 already. We had got and paid the check awhile ago, but had stayed to talk longer. The restaurant closes at 10, and I felt a sudden pang of disappointment that our date was close to being over with. I didn’t want it to end, I was savoring this moment I was having, this seemingly perfect night. 

When the waiter arrived to take our dessert order, I couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment that the evening was drawing to a close. I wasn't ready for it to end—I wanted to savor every moment, to prolong the magic of our time together for as long as possible.

House notices my look of disappointment, “I’m aware how amazing I am, but if its up to me, this won’t be our last date.” 

A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth, my cheeks heating up as I blush. The butterflies in my stomach going absolutely insane. 

So with a quick glance around the restaurant, I rose from my seat, House grabbed my hand as he led me towards the exit. 

Stepping out into the cool night air, I felt a sense of happiness coursing through me. This was it, the beginning of a new relationship, a surprisingly healthy one so far. 

As House’s hand tightened around mine, his touch sent sparks of electricity coursing through my veins. I knew now that maybe Chase knows me better than I know myself, in all fairness he predicted this, but right now I wasn’t afraid to admit this, to admit the undeniable attraction that I had towards Dr Gregory House. 

His touch leaves mine, his hand pulling as we stand in front of the restaurant, close to each other, staring in each other's eyes. I glance at his lips before leaning in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, not sure if he expected it, but I pull back.

“Goodnight House. I’ll see you tomorrow.” And with that I walk away, to my car. When I get in my car, I look in the mirror, seeing House standing there with a lovestruck grin, one a child would have over some school crush. But it was cute, he was cute. And this was just the beginning of an annoyingly predicated relationship with a Vicodin addicted, asshole, who I suspect has a soft spot for me.

[bougiebutchbinch]

You know, if I weren't lazy I could give you an essay on how comic Wade is either closeted transfem or wants to at least medically transition even if he stays using he/him pronouns. I'd even site my sources in MLA format for you. I'd just have to find some very specific events, and it also relies on the idea that the scars are psychosomatic (which was implied in one of the Deadpool and Spiderman comics).

The only problem is on a good day I'm wishy washy about liking that (a physical representation of his poor mental health that people either ignore or out right demonize? yes please) but on most days I don't really like it as a concept.

oh goshhhhhh I am soooo here for transfem Wade!!!!

Should you ever have the spoons to deliver that essay, I for one would love to hear it.

She (or he, I think they're pretty fluid with pronouns, like Deadpool always is!) is the transfem who makes her gender identity A Big Joke for years and years and years, always laughing about 'haha what if I was a girl what if I was your girlfriend what if my pussy got wet whenever we fought what if I wore a maid dress for you what if that hahahaha wouldn't that be funny'

to the point where

everyone can kinda tell

it isn't a joke

but Wade's almost too afraid to acknowledge that it isn't? Like, she's been keeping her barriers up with comedy for so long, and especially growing up with her dad and then in the military, a BIG part of her is fucking terrified about what it means to acknowledge how she really feels about herself, let alone embrace it.

Anyway, I think one day someone (Vanessa?) would listen to Wade doing his usual bit about 'lol what if I was a girl' and would just say "You could be, you know."

Her tone is kind, gentle, and completely fucking serious.

And Wade suddenly gets

very

very

quiet.

For all of a minute.

"Yeah," he manages eventually, hoarser than ever. Flashing Vanessa a bright, cheeky grin that doesn't quite reach his (her?) eyes. "But then you'd have competition for being the hottest woman in this polycule, and we can't have that."

But maybe next time he takes Vanessa up on her offer to do his nails and make up, she catches him looking at himself wistfully in the mirror, and presses a little kiss to the side of his head.

"I'm ready for that competition whenever you are," she promises. "But you'd better bring your A-game. I'm not gonna go easy on you just because you're a newly minted girl."

Wade chokes out a laugh. She jerks away from her reflection like she's scared that she's been caught - then, tentatively, glances back again. Looking at herself, scars and high cheekbones and thin eyelashes darkened with mascara, and more scars, and all - before her nervous, sickly yellow eyes flit to Vanessa's.

Vanessa can see the want there. The yearning.

And she can see, just as clearly, the fear.

"Rain check?" asks Wade, fake-breezy. "Not that I'm not ready for you to kick my ass at the art of hot-girlhood, but you have had a lot more practice."

Vanessa finds her hand - fever-hot as ever, and just a little sweaty. She gives it a tight squeeze.

"Rain check," she agrees, not because she wants it, but because Wade needs it. Then, distracting her, because there's a fragile set to Wade's mouth, like she's letting something she so desperately wants slip between her fingers - "What colour should I paint your toenails?"

"Ooh!" Wade perks up immediately, clapping her hands in delight. "Wolverine-costume-yellow? Nonono, gunmetal grey for Cable! And Colossus. Okay, so maybe one yellow for every two grey? Hey, I'll do yours too~ We can match!"

She's adorable when she's excited. Vanessa drops another little kiss on one of the textured ridges that divides Wade's skull into continents of scar tissue. "Sounds like a perfect girls' night."

"Girls' night," Wade repeats, smile small and precious. Then, bouncing up from the chair in front of Vanessa's vanity - "Okay, game plan! I'll go put on the Golden Girls and make popcorn, you get the nail polish and the files. Sound good?"

"Sounds amazing."

[lovemybluebully]

It's For Science

This is just a little something I scrounged together, inspired by a post by @snugglyfluffle 😊

https://www.tumblr.com/snugglyfluffle/761535277842022400/since-logan-has-a-shorter-waist-then-wade-does-do?source=share

Damn, writer's block has been a biiiiiitch. I wrote a lot of this in the later hours of the night after my long workdays so sorry if it's nothing spectacular, or if there's any spelling/grammatical errors. 

Wade gets it into his head that maybe not all humans have the same number of rib bones. His logic being that since Logan has a shorter body then he may be an exception. Unfortunately for Logan this is far too ticklish of an experiment for him to bear.

A small bit of ticklish!deadpool at the end too. 😉

Warnings for foul language and other Deadpool-type stuff.

"Deadpool and Wolverine"-verse

M/M Tickle Fic

Word Count: 4,234

"The skeletal system is comprised of bones that give structure to the body and work with the muscles and joints to provide movement. The human body contains 206 bones….," the certified doctor on the television explained as he gestured to a replica model human skeleton while Wade sat watching on the couch.

"207 if I'm watching Gossip Girl, hehehe. Shit, I already made that joke in the movie. Well it's still true anyhow, am I right?" Wade snorted a laugh as he turned from his position on the couch with his hand up for a high-five, but found his roommate leaned back in the couch with his eyes closed and his hands on his lap.

It had been a nice lazy afternoon for the two of them and Logan had KO'ed quite a few beers as the monotone voice of the television host was making him doze off.

"Pssht! Old man can't stay awake for five minutes," Wade waved him off as he turned back to the tv.

"The ribcage has an important job in providing protection to some of the most vital organs being the lungs and the heart. There are 12 ribs on each side, making 24 in total…"

The merc blinked in curiosity as he sat up tall and now slowly began to feel up each side of his body to count the ribs within, having to dig in pretty thoroughly to get through the muscle.

"Hmm I'm only feeling 20 here….," he rechecked to be sure, finding all the ones leading up to his collarbone.

"The 11th and 12th pair of ribs are called 'floating ribs' because unlike all the others they are not attached to the sternum but are still attached to the backbone….," the doctor went on as he pointed to two pairs of ribs on the back area of the skeleton.

Wade's hands wound around to his lower back and found the missing pairs right where the doctor said they'd be.

"Huh. What do you know, he's right. I mean, duh!" He bopped himself on the forehead, "Of course he's right. He's a fucking doctor. Hey Wolvie, you're missing some interesting stuff here."

"Mmph," Logan only grunted in response, not even hearing what Wade had actually said as he started to drift further into fully passing out.

Wade then had a thought pop into his mind as he looked over at his near-comatose friend. Logan's torso was a lot shorter than his own so he wondered if it was true that all humans had the same number of ribs. The doc hadn't specified if it was possible to have less and Wade's hyper mind needed an answer right away.

"Hmm. I suppose I could just Google it to find out for sure, but nah! I prefer to do my own field study. Plus you all need a fun little fic to read, and I know Logan won't mind if it tickles just a teensy little bit. Commence Operation How-Many-Ribs-Does-A-Wolverine-Have."

He slid over and wiggled his fingers up in the air before placing them on the bottom of Logan's ribcage, pressing in gently to feel the first two ribs as the man immediately jumped and blinked his eyes open in a groggy daze.

"Whatistha….Wade? What-heheh-What're you doin'?" He batted at Wade's hands with very little accuracy from being half-asleep, giggles escaping him as the fingers moved up to the next set of ribs.

"Well if you had stayed awake Peanut, you would have seen this educational program I've been watching about the human body. They say there are 24 ribs in a human, but I was curious if it applied to all body heights. Being that you're a little shorter than me I wanted to see if you had the same," Wade explained his current lunacy as Logan started to wake up a little more though it took him a moment to really process everything that had been said.

"Huh? The fuck are ya-eheheheehee-Ribs? Course I do, dipshihihit. Now stohahahop it," he was unsuccessful in trying to block out Wade's hands as they continued up his sides.

"I sure will. Once I have verified the facts. Though I'm pretty sure this would go a lot quicker if you would just hold still," Wade smirked big time, knowing there was absolutely no way Logan could ever stay still for something like this when his torso was so ridiculously sensitive, "Okay looks like that's number 5…..and oh, there's 6…."

"How abohohout I c-count your teeheeheeheeth after I knohohock 'em outta your fuhuhuhucking head?" Logan chuckled hard, taking a half-hearted and easily dodge-able swing with his fist towards Wade.

"Don't threaten me with a good time, muffin cakes. Come on, this is a fun game. At least smile, would ya?" Wade teased, looking down at his friend while increasing the speed that his fingers wiggled around against his sides.

The X-man's grin had lit up his normally stoic face while he made many attempts to shove Wade's arms away, but those nimble fingers were practically glued to his sides.

"Of ahahahall the stuhuhuhupid-Eeeheheheheheheh! Stahahahap, ya mohohohoron! Thehehehey're all thehehehere!" Logan was giggling uncontrollably and sinking back into the couch cushions, trying to will his body to phase through and escape but there was only so much give that he was allowed.

Truthfully after the relaxing day he'd had and the keg of beer in his belly he found that he wasn't too bothered about Wade waking him up with his dumb experiment.

"How can I be certain? Got any proof? Any reliable witnesses to corroborate your case? Hmm? Perhaps you have an x-ray of your body to show me? A scientific essay conducted by a world renowned researcher? Any of those would be acceptable."

Logan obviously could only shake his head.

"N-Nohohohohoo, buhut I can cuhuhut myself opehehehen and-ahahahahaa-you cahahahan loohoohook for yoursehehehelf!" He released one claw from his hand as Wade gasped in horror and quickly grabbed his wrist to pin it to the couch with his knee.

"Ohhh no you don't. You're crazy if you think I'm gonna allow my precious little badger to cause himself any harm. Besides my method is way less messy. Just wish I knew why you find it to be so funny," he stated, playing dumb as Logan attempted to growl through his giggles, though the intimidation factor was completely lost.

"Yohohohou f-fucking knohow why I'm lahahahahaughin', ya ihihihihidiot!" He retracted the sharp blade back into his body, trying to squirm free, "Now gehehehet outta thehehehere, ohohor ehehehelse!"

The threats were in full effect, but the claws remained sheathed.

Wade recognized that Logan was in a more light-hearted mood than normal, and he wasn't going to let it go to waste. If he had woken up with murder on his mind then Wade might have been more inclined to back off sooner. But now that he had the green light it was on!

"Or else what? Doesn't seem like you're trying too hard to stop me," he called his bluff and grinned at how the man weakly pulled at his wrists with his one free hand and was trying to curl up in defense.

He knew Logan would be fighting him a lot harder than this if he was really as disagreeable as he wanted him to think.

Actually, Wolverine had a little secret he was keeping. He would die before admitting it out loud, but there were times he found that he actually enjoyed this. Yes, enjoyed getting tickled within an inch of his life.

Definitely not at first though. And to fully grasp the situation we'll have to rewind the story just a…

"Aw nohohoo bub! Thehehey don't neeheed to hehehear all o' thahahat!"

Wade's heart skipped a beat as he gasped in excitement.

"Oh em gee! Your first fourth wall break! I'm so fucking proud of you!"

Shush, we're doing this.

Anyways Logan couldn't remember ever being tickled before so the day Wade had discovered that he was in fact quite ticklish he did everything in his power to fight him off and avoid it altogether. Wade wouldn't back off though and inevitably got him pinned down, even though it resulted in several stab wounds to his head and torso.

Having been alive for over 200 years Logan was very used to experiencing pain of some of the highest levels physically and mentally, but tickling was something very alien to him. Not surprisingly he struggled with processing the maddening, yet gentle touches.

He didn't like to show any signs of weaknesses, but being tickled completely overwhelmed his heightened senses, especially in the touch department, and it was impossible for him to not react to it. There had been feelings of anger and humiliation at how easily simple fingers were able to render him powerless, and it only got worse once he finally broke into agonized laughter.

Logan hated the feeling of not having control, especially over his own body. Once he had managed to break free, he had been extremely cross with Wade and went into one of his brooding moods for the majority of the day.

After giving him time to cool off, Wade eventually approached him to apologize, and Logan shrugged it off now that his temper had died down. Though he had been working on trying to better himself and he explained to Wade what it had made him feel and why he had reacted so strongly against it.

Wolverine being vulnerable enough to share his feelings with him was one of the only times Wade was ever completely serious and really gave his full attention. Despite getting a kick out of always annoying him Wade never wanted to cause him true stress and it made him feel like a real asshole when Logan ended up apologizing to him too.

Wade promised to never do it to him again but added that he just got carried away due to the fact that he really liked seeing Logan not only smile but laugh especially. Logan had become utterly stupefied by that confession. He thought Wade had only been trying to torment and embarrass him, which was what had really set him off.

He had then taken the next few days to reflect on that. He could definitely empathize with how good it felt to see someone you really cared about experiencing joy. Knowing that Wade's intentions were far from malicious had really put his mind at ease about it, realizing that his pride had gotten the better of him.

And the more he thought back on it it really wasn't that bad.

Which was why Wade's squawk of surprise when Logan tackled him from out of nowhere to attack his sides with tickles gave Logan the same fuzzy feeling he assumed Wade had had. Wade not only was laughing from the tickling, but from relief as well, realizing that he'd been unspokenly forgiven.

He didn't even fight it and just let Logan tickle him to his heart's content until finally the man stopped and grunted that he had hoped he'd "learned his lesson" while giving him a small smirk.

Wade was able to read between the lines and took the chance to pounce him the very next day, and despite some growling threats he received the older mutant didn't seem entirely displeased. Logan had completely let his guard down, which now enabled him to truly experience it in full.

Still, he made Wade work for it before he finally stopped holding in his laughter. The crazy merc then proceeded to make him laugh harder than he could ever remember doing in his past, and he found the brain chemical effects from that to do wonders for his mood.

The funny thing about it to Logan was that even though he was rendered helpless from tickling he realized that he was still 100% safe, and he found that to be a very comforting thought. It was a new experience for him to be in such a close proximity struggle where the end goal wasn't to try to hurt or kill him.

Sure, Wade would use tickling as a form of retaliation a lot of times, but it was all the same to Logan by now. Naturally he wasn't always in the mood for a tickle attack, but these days more often than not he didn't fight it too much and was quite content to let his roommate turn him into a squirming, wheezing wreck.

Of course, for appearances sake, Logan would still curse his head off and threaten the man's life at every turn. Up until the mischievous merc would tickle him to the point he could barely take it and turn that macho attitude into desperate pleas for mercy.

Which brings us back to our current situation.

"Dahahammit! I-I dihihihidn't ahahask for a wahahahaake up cahahahall!"

"No thanks needed! It's totally complimentary in el Casa de Wade. But don't mind me, feel free to go back to sleep. I'm just going to keep counting these ribs here until we get to the bottom of this. Ah, finally we found 7 and 8."

Wade was still acting as if this whole idea was just to count his ribs and hadn't even acknowledged that he was purposely tickling him and realizing that made Logan feel even more giddy as he let out a snort and shook his head.

"Wade c'mooon! Get ohohohoff! Ya-heehehehe-Ya know I'm ticklihihihihish, fucker!" His big-muscled arms were clamped so tightly against his sides, but there was no stopping the determined fingers crawling up his ribs.

"Whaaa? Wolverine? Ticklish? Ha! That's absurd! My guy Logan is way too mean and strong and tough to be affected by something so childish! Oh boy, and I thought I was the king of jokes around here. Now come on, stop messing around and just move your arms out of the way so I can finish this," Wade smirked, loving to tease him about his ticklishness in regard to his hard-core reputation.

"You fuhuhuhucking ahahahasshohohohole!" Logan snorted hard and now fell over to the side as he began scooting along the couch to get away.

"Heheh, where do you think you're going? Stop being so dramatic, Nancy Kerrigan. It's okay to make that joke now, right? 30 years later is fair," he shrugged at the camera, not letting up one bit as he followed along with his squirming prey, "I can feel 9 and 10 now. We're almost halfway there! Oooh! How exciting!"

"Cuhuhut it ohohohout! Heeheheheheheheh! Juhuhust drohop this stuhuhupid ideheeheeheea!"

The higher Wade went the stronger the tickling sensations felt, and Logan was pretty sure he was going to die before the last of his ribs were even reached, though in his mind it honestly wasn't the worst way for him to go.

"🎵 Ohhhh the itsy-bitsy spiders crawled up the waterspout….🎵," Wade effortlessly sing-songed with clawed fingers continuing their torturously slow progress, thoroughly scraping over every rib bone they came across, "🎵 Down came the rain….but couldn't wash the spiders out because they were having too much fun counting all these cute little ribbies. 🎵."

It always made Logan feel silly whenever Wade's teases took on a more juvenile form. He was the tenacious and deadly Wolverine and yet Wade was treating him like he was just some harmless little kid. He was never able to stop the blush from spreading across his face.

"Shuhuhuhuut uhuhuhup! Ohohor you're gohohonna haahahave another fuhuhuhuckin'-Hahahahahahehee-hohohohole t-to breheeheeheeathe outta yohohour fahahahat hehehehead!"

"Wow. We're body shaming now? I'm very sensitive about my fat head, you know. Well have you looked in the mirror lately, mister? Just walking around with those big, sexy arms and your handsomely chiseled jawline, and don't even get me started on all that sculpted beef that you're hiding in disgrace underneath this shirt. Yeah, doesn't feel so good now, does it, you absurdly attractive man? Uh huh….oh….yup, right there we got 11 and 12."

Wade was just so ridiculous sometimes, but when Logan was already caught in a laughing fit the merc's unstoppable blabbering only succeeded in making him laugh even harder. And unfortunately, he was slowly losing his will to carry on with acting tough through this tickle session.

"Fihihihiiine! I'm-heeheehehahahahaha-I'm sorrrrry! I tahahahake it bahahahaack! Just stooohohohoooop!" Logan didn't know how much more he could take of this. Actually, he did know due to having suffered under Wade's fingers for months now, and the answer was a lot.

"Why? I'm just trying to get a count here. 13……14…..It's for science. Hey look, I'm sorry……," Wade pretended to show some remorse before breaking into a huge smirk, "Sorry my wittle Wolvie-polvie is too freakin' ticklish for his own good!"

Logan's back finally met the armrest of the couch, preventing him from going any further as he leaned back over it to try to get away. Though this now had his ribcage fully stretched out as Wade stepped it up and dug his fingers in mercilessly between rib bones, making Logan positively howl in laughter.

"Ahahahahaa! Wade naahahahahahahaho! Pleheheease! Thahahahaat tickles!" He thrashed madly trying to wiggle away, but Wade had him pinned right where he wanted him as he just snickered at the situation.

"I think at this point you know that was part of my plan all along. Hehehe, but we're so close! Think of the prestige we'll get from this scientific breakthrough! Oh! I think I just found 15! Oooh! And could that be 16?! C'mon, buddy! Bear with me now!"

The upper ribs were basically in Logan's armpits that were covered with a more fleshy layer and Wade was really having to probe in there to actually feel the bones beneath.

"Not thehehehere! Noohot thehehehehehehhehehere! Haahahahaheeheeheeheehaa! Mehehehehercyyyyyy! Logan squealed helplessly with his head tilted back and showing off his elongated canine teeth; his face as red as a tomato as tears squeezed out of his tightly shut eyes.

The feral man's t-shirt had ridden up, exposing the lower half of his ripped stomach and Wade was currently in a position where it was at eye level. He smirked as he thought about how crazy Logan got whenever he would blow raspberries into his tummy, and he found the urge to do so was just too strong to resist as he took a deep breath.

"WAAAHahAHaHAhaHAHAAADE!!" Logan screamed with the first oral assault landing directly around his navel, breaking into silent laughter while wheezing desperately for air. Many more blows were delivered to his belly and ribs while the fingers continued tickling in his armpits as Logan summoned up any energy he had left and pushed with all he had in him at Wade's head and shoulders.

Eventually after being slapped and punched in the head so many times, Wade finally allowed himself to be pushed away, taking one last nibble at his hip bone.

"Geez, calm down Hugh, you over actor," he chuckled as he looked down at the man who was currently swallowing all the air he could and gingerly wiping away at tears.

"Okaaahaahay…..Fuckin' Hell……That's it…..for nohohow…..Y-You got me…..good……No more….right?"

"Weeeeeell if you would have just stayed still, we could have had this all over with. But noooooo, you just had to make me lose count," Wade sighed loudly in feigned disappointment, "Looks like I'm gonna have to start aaaallllllll over again."

With a wicked grin he began reaching out towards the still incapacitated man who was now shaking his head frantically as his hands raised in defense.

"N-No Wade. Not again. Stay back. Heehehehe-please. I can't take any more," he couldn't help giggling in anticipation as Wade hovered over him again.

"Hold still now…Don't worry Peanut, we'll get through this together. So that's 1……and 2…….and a coochie coochie coo…," Wade started again on his waist to get at his bottom ribs as Logan was already breaking into squeals.

"20?! Again?! For real?! I've counted three times already!"

Logan was hanging halfway off the couch; his hair sticking out in every direction and his cheeks slicked with tears as he coughed and tried to regain any hint of sanity he had left.

"It's……It's……fine…….Wade…..I'm sure……..they're in……there……somewhere……," he panted weakly, slowly starting to feel his energy revitalize.

"Or maybe you really do only have 20? My theory that you have fewer since you are shorter may be correct!" Wade was getting lost in his thoughts, but then at that moment a voice of reason sounded off.

"And remember, the 11th and 12th pair of ribs are referred to as 'floating ribs' and are only attached at the backbone….," the television was still on and by this point the doctor had gone back around and was summarizing everything he had just talked about.

The light bulb finally went on in Wade's head.

"Oh yeeeeah……forgot about those little buggers," Wade slowly turned to look at his friend whose eyes went wide as he scrambled to get away.

Five seconds later and Wade had Logan pinned on his stomach as his fingers wiggled into his lower back to find the missing rib pairs while Logan cackled wildly and pounded his fists with his feet uselessly kicking at the cushions.

"23…..and 24! Well would you look at that! I guess all humans are the same after all!" Wade declared happily as he finally climbed off of his roommate, signaling the end of his reign of terror, "Whaddya think, Wolvie? Aren't you so glad to have that useful little tidbit of information at your disposal?"

Logan gradually rolled over onto his back and raised an annoyed brow.

"Could've just fuckin' Googled it, bub," he growled, though a smile was still stuck on his face.

"Okay I admit waking you up may not have been the nicest way to go about it, but you know how impatient I am. And be honest, you really don't seem that upset about it," Wade grinned, reaching over to scribble fingers over his now exposed stomach while Logan snorted chuckles and tried to block him out with his knees before rolling away.

"You're lucky I didn't piss my pants, asshole. Drank a shit load of beers right before I fell asleep. I gotta piss like a fucking racehorse now," Logan stumbled to his feet and walked off to use the bathroom.

Wade grinned as he watched him walk away before turning to the audience.

"He's cute, ain't he? And I didn't hear any denial in that, did you? He doesn't know that I heard the author spill his secret earlier. It's nice to know that he actually enjoys it, even if he won't say it. I'm totally good with that."

The sound of Logan groaning in relief echoed down the hallway followed by the toilet flushing several moments later before he walked back out to join Wade on the couch.

"Did you make sure to put the seat back down? Althea won't be happy if she falls in again," he asked as Logan looked at him with a frown.

"That one was on you, shithead. I always remember to. You've lived how many years with this poor lady? I seriously don't know how she's put up with your stupid, inconsiderate ass for so long."

"Exactly the same way you do, sugar tits," Wade grinned and pinched his cheek, receiving an adamantium elbow into his side and grunting as the air was knocked out of him momentarily.

"It's a daily struggle that's for sure. But I owe ya a lot for breaking me out of my destructive cycle, so we'll call it even," Logan had softened his demeanor, knowing he truly owed Wade his gratitude as the other man noted this and took advantage of his guard being down.

"Awww there it is! Right there! I knew you loved me!" Wade squealed as he jumped onto Logan's lap and wrapped his arms around his head in the tightest of hugs.

"Gaah! Wade! Fuckin' dammit! Let go of me!" Logan struggled to pry Wade off of him until he was hit with a moment of inspiration as he latched his fingers onto Wade's unprotected sides to start tickling him with everything he had.

"Aahaahahah! Logan dohohohohooot! Thahahahat's nohohohot fahahahaaair!" Wade yelped with giggles as he quickly tried to escape, but Logan held him firmly in place.

"Fair? Okay, let's be fair. See we learned that all my ribs are there, but seems we've overlooked yours. Think it's best we check that out right away, don't you?" Logan asked with a crooked grin as Wade frantically shook his head while thrashing in his lap, "No? Well ain't that just too damn bad."

Logan dug right in with both strong hands, not even hiding the fact that his mission was to tickle the absolute shit out of his roommate.

"Okaahahahay yohohou cahahan cheheheck! Heheehhehahah! Juhuhust nohoho tihihihickling!"

"Now how do ya expect me to do that? You got an x-ray or some bullshit to show me? A fuckin' thesis paper on the matter? What? Ya don't? Well that fuckin' sucks for you. Looks like we're doing this the old-fashioned way. What number was I on? Oh yeah….1…….1…….1……1 again….."

"Cahahahahaaan't you fuhuhucking cohohount, you neahahahanderthal?!?!"

Logan smirked big time, repeatedly prodding into the same rib over and over.

"Guess not. Numbers apparently aren't my strong suit. Looks like this is gonna take alllll day then."

Wade could only laugh and squeal in response, knowing he had sealed his own doom.

[lendeah]

Happy Memories

Also on AO3

Summary: Based on this line from the epilogue- One night he tells you that these six months of happy memories are the counterweight to two hundred years of misery.

Pairing: Astarion x Fem!Reader.

Word Count: 2.8k

Tags:  Fluff and Smut, 6 months post-finale, Lovemaking, Domestic Fluff, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Love Confessions, it's so soft really, Soft Astarion, they have just been through so much, Tooth-Rotting Fluff.

WARNING: +18, minors DNI

The past few months had been a trying time, both of you struggling to come to terms with the events that had transpired. The weight of it all hung heavy in the air, leaving you to navigate through nightmares and Astarion's bouts of dissociation. Yet, somehow, you were making progress. Together.

You had taken it upon yourself to find a cure for Astarion's condition, a challenging task made even more difficult by his returned aversion to sunlight. But it gave you both a purpose, something to look forward to - a brighter tomorrow. The greatest source of joy in your present life was the simple act of lying down next to him every night, enveloped in each other's arms with the comforting knowledge that tomorrow you would once again wake up without the constant fear of losing him.

Together, you had found solace in a serene cottage by Riverbend, settling into a comfortable routine. You delighted in gardening and cooking, while he took care of household chores and lovingly mended and sewed your clothes. On lazy afternoons, you would paint alongside him as he engrossed himself in endless books. It was pure bliss, and you were content with your perfectly imperfect life together.

As the two of you prepared for bed, Astarion wrapped his arms around your waist from behind. In the past, such an intimate gesture would have caught you off guard, but he has since learned to let his guard down and embrace moments of tenderness. Though he still struggles at times, he relishes in this display of affection.

"Everything alright, my love?" you asked, resting your head against his.

Astarion's arms tightened around you as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck. "Alright would be an understatement," he murmured, his voice low and warm against your skin. "I am absolutely enchanted, my dear."

You turned around in his embrace, wrapping your arms around his neck. "I'm glad to hear that, because I am enchanted too," you said softly.

Astarion leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a delicate kiss. You hummed against his mouth, savoring the familiar feeling of his soft lips moving against yours. He pulled back slightly, forehead resting against yours as he whispered, "I have something I want to show you."

Curiosity sparked within you, but you simply nodded and followed him as he led you outside. The moon was high in the sky, casting its soft glow over everything. Astarion took your hand and led you toward the nearby meadow. And that's when you see it: he has prepared the scenery around to look like the one from the first night you shared together, back at the Grove.

"What is this?" You say, with a huge grin decorating your face.

Astarion's crimson eyes shone with excitement as he turned to you. "This, my love, is a recreation of the night we first shared at the Grove," he said proudly.

Tears pricked at your eyes as you took in the scene before you. The soft grass beneath your feet, the gentle rustling of trees in the distance, and a small basket filled with wine and various snacks, right next to a small blanket.

"I thought we could relive that enchanted evening, but this time we'll make it truly unforgettable." His fingers caressed your cheek, gently wiping away a stray tear, as he added with a cheeky smile, "Because let's be honest, the first time was... underwhelming."

You smiled at him, grateful beyond words for his thoughtfulness. "Thank you, my love, this is incredible," you said, your voice thick with emotion.

Astarion's smile widened and he pulled you into a tight embrace. "Anything for you," he whispered into your ear.

You stayed wrapped in each other's arms for a while, just enjoying the peacefulness of the moment. Eventually, Astarion led you over to the basket and poured some wine for both of you. As the night went on, the two of you talked and laughed, reminiscing about your early days together and all the adventures you had been on since then. And with each passing moment, it felt as if the world had paused just for the two of you, as if all the events of the previous months were leading up to this one perfect moment.

As midnight approached, Astarion stood and held out his hand. "Shall we dance under the moonlight?" he asked with a playful glint in his eyes.

You raised a teasing eyebrow, "Has the spirit of Wyll possessed you?"

Astarion chuckled, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, my dear, you wound me! I assure you, this idea is entirely my own. Besides, who needs Wyll's spirit when I have enough charisma to ignite the heavens themselves?" He flourished a grand gesture, pretending to adjust an imaginary top hat atop his head.

You couldn't help but giggle at his theatrics. "How could I resist such an offer from the ever-enchanting Astarion?" you teased, accepting his outstretched hand.

He pulled you close, his hand resting firmly on the small of your back as he led you in a slow and graceful waltz beneath the soft glow of the moon. The world around you seemed to fade away as you slowly swayed in each other's arms.

"I don't remember this happening on our first night," you murmured against his ear, remembering how different that moment had been compared to this one.

A low, seductive chuckle escaped Astarion's lips as they brushed against your skin. "And pray tell, darling, what do you recall?"

"I remember you trying to seduce me and then almost draining me dry," you teased, a mischievous glint in your eye.

Astarion let out a dramatic gasp. "Such slander! I would never do such a thing!" He pressed his hand to his chest in mock offense.

You both laughed, the sound echoing through the quiet night. It was a stark contrast to the fake seducing words and lack of feelings of that first night. Now, he was completely at ease, his true self shining through without any pretense or hunger clouding his mind.

"But it was still special," Astarion whispered, stopping the dance to pull you closer to him. "It's what brought us to be here now, and I wouldn't trade that for anything."

You smiled up at him, your heart fluttering at his words, as you leaned in to kiss him. It was a gentle and sweet kiss at first but soon turned more passionate as Astarion deepened it. His hands grabbed your thighs and picked you up to press you up against a nearby tree, lips trailing down your neck.

"This is bringing back memories," You say breathlessly.

You could feel him smirk against your skin "Do you really think so? Perhaps I should refresh them even more."

His declaration sent a wave of warmth through your body and you leaned in to kiss him again, eager to lose yourself in the moment. His hands were now unbuttoning your shirt and you gasped as they reached your bare skin. You looked at his hooded eyes, and with a playful smile, offered your neck to him.

However, Astarion pulled away slightly and looked into your eyes, with something like doubt swimming in them. "I want this to be real," he said earnestly. "Not like last time."

You nodded in understanding and smiled softly at him. "It already is," you reassured him, cupping his cheek with your hand.

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he leaned in to kiss you again, but this time it was slow and tender – an exchange of affection rather than something laced with hunger or deception. Astarion picked you up again and gently set you down on the soft blanket that he had laid out earlier. He leaned in to kiss you once more, his body hovering over yours.

As you entwined your fingers in his soft, white locks, you pulled him towards you, deepening the kiss. His hands explored every curve and dip of your body, sending pleasurable shivers down your spine with each touch.

As his lips trailed from yours, they left a tingling sensation in their wake. Your hands eagerly reached for the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head and tossing it aside. Astarion's hungry gaze followed every movement as you unbuttoned your jeans and let them fall to the ground. With a grin, he helped you out of your remaining clothes before stepping back to fully appreciate your naked form glistening under the moonlight. His eyes traced every curve and dip of your body before meeting your gaze once again, a hunger evident in his expression.

"You are breathtaking," he murmured, and then pulled you into another passionate kiss. Your fingers traced the lines of his bare chest, feeling the softness of his skin. You tugged at his shirt, silently urging him to remove it, and he obliged with a sly smile. His pants soon followed, revealing the chiseled contours of his body. Your hands traced over every ridge and dip of his body, feeling the coolness of his skin against your fingertips.

"I want you to bite me," you whispered urgently.

Astarion leaned down to press his lips against the nape of your neck, making you gasp and arch into him as he traced his fangs along your pulse point. Your skin tingled with excitement as his hands eagerly explored your body before gripping your hips, sending shivers of desire through you.

"Tell me if it becomes too much," he whispered against your skin before sinking his teeth into your neck gently.

You gasped at the sensation – a mix of pleasure and pain that sent sparks flying through your body. Astarion's grip on your hips tightened as he drank from you, his other hand reaching up to cup one of your breasts. You moaned as he continued to drink from you, feeling the pleasure building up inside of you.

After a few minutes, Astarion pulled away and licked the wound on your neck before kissing it gently. His red eyes met yours and they were glowing with a mix of emotions – desire, love, and something else that you couldn't quite pinpoint.

"I'll never grow weary of that," he murmurs, before leaning in for another kiss. Astarion's lips trailed down your neck and onto your chest, leaving a trail of kisses as he made his way towards your breasts, taking a nipple between his lips. Every touch of his tongue sent sparks of pleasure through your body and you arched your back in response.

"Astarion..." you panted.

The sound of his name on your lips only spurred him on, and he began to suckle harder, moving to tease the other nipple with his fingers. His hand moved from your breast to between your legs, and you gasped as his fingers found your wetness. He slipped his fingers between your soaking folds, skillfully rubbing and circling your clit. The combination of his mouth and fingers sent waves of pleasure through you, making you whimper and writhe beneath him.

"Please," you whimpered, unable to hold back any longer.

Astarion smirked against your skin before moving down your body, his lips leaving a trail of kisses until he reached the apex of your thighs. He looked up at you with hunger in his eyes before diving in with his tongue, causing you to cry out in pleasure.

His tongue flicked against your clit, sending waves of ecstasy through your body. You tangled your fingers in his hair, urging him on as he continued to please you.

"Astarion...oh gods..." you cried out, your voice thick with need. His fingers thrusted into you relentlessly, syncing perfectly with the skilled movements of his tongue on your swollen clit. Your body arched and trembled with each wave of pleasure, every muscle tensed in anticipation.

"Inside...now..." you begged, unable to find the words to express the ache for him to fill you completely.

Astarion looked up at you from between your legs, his eyes filled with lust and desire, "Whatever you wish, dearest."

With a swift movement, he withdrew his fingers from your slick entrance and aligned himself at your dripping core. He pushed in slowly, savoring the tightness and heat engulfing him. A moan escaped your lips as you were filled to the hilt, waves of pleasure washing over you. Your bodies melted together, panting and trembling with pleasure. He then leaned in close, and gently rested his forehead against yours, breaths mingling as you held each other.

"I never envisioned discovering someone like you," Astarion said softly, "You have made these six months of happy memories counterweight two hundred years of misery."

Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes at his words. The weight of his words, the realization that you have brought true joy to someone who has known nothing but misery, crushes you in the most beautiful way.

"I...I love you," you managed to choke out, your heart overflowing with emotion as you reached up to touch his face, tracing the lines of his cheekbone with trembling fingers. "More than anything."

Astarion's eyes softened at your words, a small smile tugging at his lips. He leaned down to capture your lips in a gentle kiss, pouring all of his emotions into it. You both stayed like that for a few moments, just lost in each other.

"I love you more than my own existence," he whispered against your lips, his voice raw with emotion. "You are my everything."

Without hesitation, he leaned down to capture your lips in a desperate kiss, and you savored the feeling of his lips against yours. Eventually, he starts slowly moving inside of you, each thrust calculated and precise as he intertwines his fingers with yours. You moaned and wrapped your legs around his waist, still lazily kissing him. Astarion continued to move inside of you with slow, deliberate strokes, making love to you in the most intimate way. Every movement is filled with intense desire and tenderness, eliciting uncontrollable moans of pleasure from your lips.

"You feel so good," he whispered against your lips, his voice filled with adoration.

Your legs wrapped around his toned waist, your fingers tightly gripping his as he moved inside you. Each thrust was met with a moan from your lips, the heat and friction between your bodies igniting a passionate fire within you. He held you close, his lips eagerly finding yours in between each deepening thrust. The intensity and intimacy of the moment had you lost in a sea of pleasure, feeling every inch of him as he poured his love into every movement. Your body trembled as you neared your climax, unable to contain the overwhelming sensation any longer. Sensing this, he shifted his hand between your bodies, his fingers finding their way to your clit once again.

"Oh gods," you cried out as the pleasure intensified. Your body trembled and your breath quickened as Astarion's fingers moved expertly over your skin. You dug your nails into his back, desperately trying to hold on as he brought you closer to the edge.

"I'm close," Astarion grunted, his own body trembling with need.

"I am too," you whimpered.

Astarion's movements became faster and more urgent, his own moans mixing with yours in the stillness of the night.

"Look at me when you come," he demanded, and you obeyed.

Your eyes locked with Astarion's, the intensity of his gaze sending chills down your spine. As you reached the peak of pleasure, your body trembled and your walls pulsed around him. You couldn't hold back any longer and cried out his name, drowning in waves of pure ecstasy, and Astarion followed suit with a guttural moan. As you both lay there, breathless and entwined, every cell in your body buzzed with contentment and fulfillment.

"I love you," you whispered, your voice raw with emotion.

"I love you too," Astarion replied, pressing a kiss to your forehead before rolling off of you and pulling you close to his chest. You rested your head on his shoulder, feeling content and complete in his arms.

You both lay there for a while, basking in the afterglow of your lovemaking, until eventually, Astarion spoke up.

"Even if we don't find the cure, being here with you is enough," he said softly, his voice filled with emotion. He paused for a moment, his eyes on yours, searching for the right words. "This is all I ever wanted," he says softly, placing his hand on your cheek.

You looked up at him, a small smile on your lips as you traced your fingers along his chest.

"I feel the same way," you replied, resting your head back on his chest. "But we can't give up hope just yet."

Astarion nodded, his arms tightening around you. "We won't" Astarion replies. He pulls you in close to him, squeezing you tightly. "We'll find the cure. I know we will." A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "And I will spend the rest of eternity making it up to you."

[sylusjinwoon]

{ 204 }

of painful auras and cute boys.

university au

jinwoo sung x fem.reader

there was an incredibly cute student who was in your class, and you could not seem to look away from him. each time you attended your morning classes, you would take note of how diligent he remained, always sitting near the front row while writing / typing out his notes on his slender laptop.

you assumed that he was a freshman like you, since his presence was not quite known by the upperclassman-

however, that didn't stop students across all classes from admiring him. from what little you gathered about him, you knew that his name was sung jinwoo, and he had plans of pursuing a degree in criminology after completing the required general education courses for the first few semesters. and despite how boring these classes were, each and every one of the professors were pleasantly surprised at how much he excelled in each and every one of them.

by the end of the fall semester, jinwoo had already reached the dean's list at the college, earning quite a few envious glares from his peers (which unfortunately, included you as well). it was odd, but, through the classes that you shared with him, you became aware of how his drive to succeed seemed to be taken up to the next level.

even if it was mildly infuriating to you, at the same time, you found a great source of motivation in him. throughout your high school years, you managed to scrape by with average grades (making plenties of c's and b's here and there, with true a's coming once in a blue moon)-

but seeing how devoted jinwoo was to his studies made you want to change your outlook on your university life. after classes, you would usually catch sight of jinwoo settled within the library with his textbooks spread across the tables as his hands diligently scribbled some notes within the confines of his notebook. he never seemed to carry that typical laziness seen within most freshman students after experiencing their first few weeks of college-

and you greatly admired him for it.

so... using your crush role model as your sole inspiration, you began to change your study habits and did your best to work just as hard as jinwoo. you would find a quiet corner in the middle of the library, (making sure you kept a safe distance from said role model and motivation), as you began your studies for the day. your eyes would glance up at him every so often, using his focused expression as a means to further motivate and inspire you to work harder.

your session starts out normal enough, with you comparing your written lecture notes to what the textbook chapter says. but the more you kept reading your textbook, the more you slowly began to feel a slight ache taking over the forefront of your brain. you shut your eyes for a few minutes, counting down the seconds that make up a minute by tens before reopening your eyes-

only to realize that your vision had gotten considerably worse.

for some reason, your eyes could only see weblike illusions, further marring your vision as you let out a soft moan in response. due to what you knew was an aura hindering your vision, you could feel the familiar pulse against your temple coupled along with the wave of nausea.

the lights used to brighten the library suddenly became too bright, making it painful for you as your breathing slowly became labored. the pain felt all across your head just kept mounting, becoming even more excruciating as you let out a soft moan, trying to relieve the ache by massaging at your temples, but to no avail. you were completely rendered helpless from the severity of your migraine, uncertain of what to do as hot tears were felt spilling from your eyes.

"hey, are you okay?" a gentle and calm voice calls out to you, but you could only manage a tiny whimper in response.

"no... i'm not okay... i think i'm having a bad migraine right now."

you hear someone, (a young man), click his tongue in response to your admission and try to meet his gaze, only to have that same aura place what looked like a static filter across your eyes, keeping the boy's identity hidden from you.

you listen as he lets out a hum before gathering your textbooks and notebooks together, placing them all neatly inside of your backpack along with your pencil case. "come with me, i'll help you."

clinging to his arms, you try to walk beside him, only to run the side of your hips against one of the tables as it made you wince in response. a rich chuckle was heard close to your ear when a smooth voice tells you, "hang on tight."

not even bothering to wait for your reply, you found yourself picked up by this mystery boy, gasping as you tried to fight against the powerful vertigo that courses through you. "w-whoa! d-did you just pick me up?"

"i had to... i couldn't have such a vulnerable girl continue hurting herself when she clearly can't see." amusement was heard within the richness of his voice, and had you not been feeling so nauseated and sick, you would have protested against his playful words.

with your vision still ruined by such a powerful aura, you could only put your trust within this perfect stranger as he carried you out of the library and back onto campus grounds. with your eyes clenched shut to avoid the intensity of the sunlight, you felt him walking to a more secluded area, hearing the grass crunching beneath him with each step that he takes before settling you down beneath what felt like an oak tree.

the shadows provided by such large branches was enough to help ease the ache on your eyes. your savior ends up joining you, kneeling down close to you as you felt the way he brushes back your hair before gently massaging at your forehead. at first, his touch makes you let out a soft hiss in response, but the more he kept caressing at your head, the less pain you felt-

like he was purposely soothing your migraine away with his gentle touches.

your eyes go wide, finally seeing the way the static clears away from your vision as you came face to face with sung jinwoo himself. you begin to tremble at the mere sight of him, tilting your head slightly at how his eyes seemed to glow a faint purple while he kept his hands against your head.

he sees your gaze and the way your lips remain parted for him, smiling down at you before removing his hand from your forehead. "do you feel better now?" jinwoo asks you with a gentle smile, and seeing such a beautiful sight up close was enough to make your heart pound.

you gingerly touch at your forehead and temple, the searing headache finally gone along with the sense of nausea. your expression was a bewildered one, yet it was filled with gratitude when you thanked him.

"t-thank you. i feel... so much better now... h-how did you do that?"

jinwoo simply gives you a tender smile and a wink, "sorry, that's going to be a secret for now. can't have you knowing everything about me too soon... because how else are you going to keep chasing after me?"

his teasing words make you lose all of your senses, for not even a single, coherent word could come from your parted lips. as you were left practically gaping at him, jinwoo hums before standing back to his full height, placing both hands within the pocket of his jeans while looking down at you.

you remain silent, seeing the way jinwoo's gaze seemed to flicker with an unknown emotion before becoming darker-

as if he wanted to look within the very depths of your soul.

the sheer intensity of his gaze was enough to make a sudden heat rush to your cheeks in response. yet as soon as that intense expression appears within jinwoo's stormy grey eyes, it disappears the next moment. a gentle smile paints his handsome features when he offers a hand to you, "would you like to join me for some coffee? i feel like you deserve a treat after suffering from such a bad migraine."

you were still unable to speak, simply nodding at him as you placed your hand within his, allowing jinwoo to help you up. he grabs both his and yours respective backpacks with little complaint, simply keeping his fingertips interlocked with yours as he walked with you to the nearest cafe.

as he walks with you, jinwoo could see shadowy wisps dancing around him excitedly, speaking to him:

"ah, it is such a great honor to be in the presence of our queen once more... congratulations on finding her, my liege."

and despite how you were unaware of jinwoo's beloved soldiers talking amongst themselves, he could hear them perfectly while letting out a secretive smile in response, giving your hands a gentle squeeze as proof of the happiness that he felt at being able to find you in this lifetime.

a.n. - i am so sorry; i still have the worst block for jinwoo,,, but i hope you readers will enjoy this little drabble 🥹

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[hollyoongs]

#LETENHYPENREST

I've being real quiet bc one, I need to re-write this bc it got so long and two, I needed to find the write words.

I'm beyond concerned for the boys. It’s heartbreaking to see ENHYPEN being pushed to their limits without a proper break. Jay had to sit out their recent Japan concerts due to the flu (plus the knee pain), and it’s not the first time we’ve seen the members struggling with their health this year. Ni-Ki, too, has been performing despite being visibly unwell. Watching them continue through exhaustion is just… painful. Heeseung, who loves to give his all in the perfomance, it's getting "lazy" allegations when it's him being so tired to the point that can't even jump properly in their choreos. Jake missing, the guys collective flu...

As much as we love the content, it’s time to admit that their schedule is simply too much. Back-to-back comebacks, tours that seem never-ending, and barely any time to breathe. Even they’ve expressed a desire to have a meal or sleep without cameras on them—simple things they’re missing out on because they’re always "on." It’s clear they need rest. Real rest.

What it fucks me up, is k-engenes. BOY THEY HAVE THE ENERGY TO SENT FUCKING TRUCKS FOR TAKING AWAY THE DANCERS IN THE "BITE ME" CHOREO BUT NOT TO SEND TRUCKS TELLING THEM TO MAKE ENHA REST.

If you're using your phone and aleeping in the fucking concert, do a faver and don't spend money one that, you have a home where you can do that. There are people that would kill foe your ticket.

Now, back to the main topic.

THIS SHIT HAS BEEN GOING ON SINCE 2023

This is a list of the thing that I remember them doing since 2023:

2023:

Fate World Tour announcement (June 2023)

Comeback with "DARK BLOOD" (May 2023)

Collaborations and special performances (KCON, festivals)

Endorsements and brand collaborations

Japan events

2024:

Continuation of Fate World Tour (2024)

Comeback with "MEMORABILIA" (May 2024)

Comeback with "ROMANCE UNTOLD" (July 2024)

Additional tour dates announced for October 2024

This company has been nothing but a pain in my ass since the very beginning, I will never forget how they photoshopped Jay's face in the trash, never. Also, they couldn't defend themselves with the only girl group they have. If you can even manage your first sources of fucking income, then why did you even decide to put a company in the first place? AND WHY IS HYBE ANDD BANG PD ALLOWING THIS!?

Oh yeah, they got money hungry. I forgot.

We don’t need more tour dates. We don’t need more comebacks right now. We need to see the boys healthy, happy, and well-rested. Engenes, I know we love seeing them, but we also have to stand together and demand that Belift Lab prioritizes their well-being. The fact that #LETENHYPENREST is trending speaks volumes. Let’s keep raising our voices for them because their health matters more than any performance. Let’s support them in getting the break they deserve 💔

tagging a few moots for this: @glitterjay @kwiwin @dollyyun @kissofhoon @taeghi @alvojake @intromortal @karinasbaby @heeslomll @yeonzzzn @sunkittie

[scourgeofmyownbrain]

This took way too fucking long- Everyone, gaze upon the Megatron/Galvatron height chart I made. If someone could get me a cold drink, I would love one, I have been working on this for the better part of a month. 26 separate designs, for one character, across 40 years of history. And I had to exclude a couple, the grand total is like 30 different ones. I left those four out because they were just pallet swaps of a design I already had; It felt redundant to include them.

This guy just can not decide if he's named Megatron or Galvatron sometimes, he just switches between the two names at random. I think in Unicron Trilogy, he switches to Galvatron multiple times, and yes, he does switch back to Megatron before every one.

My brain is kinda broken after finishing this. I worked on this one and the Optimus one at the same time (the optimus one is so much bigger holy shit-) and I've lost the ability to feel pain at this point.

Quick Disclaimer, if any of the images look weird, it's because I had to stitch a few separate images together to create a full body shot of the character.

Links to my Bumblebee Chart and my Optimus Chart. !!NEW!! -> Shockwave & Soundwave. For future reference, all these charts will be filed under my "Transformers Height Charts" tag and my "aka the adventures of a..." tag. Hopefully, my bumblebee post is acting up and idk if the same issue will happen here.

Explanations below the cut, I have to justify myself for a few of these.

G1 Beast Wars V1 - ~9 Feet (PMeg. TFWiki, he's so small. Dinosaur Man is so small)

G1 Beast Wars V2 - ~10 Feet (PMeg. TFWiki, This fucker has roller blades. I'm not fucking with you, they gave the T-Rex Roller Blades and he uses them)

G1 Beast Machines V1 - ~12 Feet (PMEG. The Wiki doesn't have any numbers for Beast machines, sadly, but I found an old forum post comparing the heights to the Beast Wars designs, so I win)

G1 Beast Wars V3/Machines V2 - ~13 Feet (PMEG. The TFWiki says this bitch is like 11.5 meters tall, but no, I've done the math, he is not. If he was, Rattrap, a character who is consistently stated to be 1.8 meters tall across multiple sources in multiple languages is actually not that tall. So no, he's about 2 and a bit Rattraps tall, and that translates to about 13 feet. And I'm pretty sure he reverts into this at some point in Beast machines, though correct me if I'm wrong)

G1 Beast Machines V3 - ~16 Feet (PMeg. This design is identical to the Optimal Optimus design so I'm gonna be lazy and use that number. Not like I have many other options.)

Beast Wars 2 - ~16 Feet (Galv. Idk, the wiki had the number and his name is Galvatron, was I supposed to ignore this? Never gonna watch it, but here it is)

Earth Spark - ~16 Feet 2 Inches (Mega. There are no actual numbers for Earth Spark (yet), but I was able to find Bumblebee's height, which I then compared to Optimus's height, and now I can compare Optimus and Megatron.

Yay!- he's so short it's so fucking funny tiny short man universe)

One V1 - ~17 Feet (Mega. I am aware, of the supposed "Canon Heights" listed on the wiki. 32.462 feet, allegedly. But, have you considered A: These numbers are sourced from the Walmart Promotional AR Experience that came out before the movie. B: There are three decimal points, and that number does not convert into a whole number in meters (which is originally what I thought was weird about it). C: The director has said that this movie is both canon to the LA movies and its own separate canon. AND ALSO Meg is taller than Optimus the entire movie but his height is listed as shorter than him on the wiki. They are the same height by the end of the movie, I call BULLSHIT Walmart; these are not actual numbers I will ignore them POST HASTE! Sadly, Megatron has yet to appear in the KCV live-action movies as I make this, but we know Meg and OP are the same height by the end of TFOne, so knock a couple of feet off this one, and we get pre-cog height)

Netflix Cybertron Trilogy - ~18 Feet (PMeg. Slightly confusing, but there are two Megatrons in this universe, but they are two completely separate characters. This is Predacon Megatron, design-wise identical to his V1 Beast Wars counterpart, but he is much taller in this universe. So I did some admittedly deranged comparisons to other characters and I got this height. It's a similar ratio to Prime & Primal's height difference so I'm running with it)

Gen 1 V2 - ~ 18 Feet 6 inches (Galv. So the Wiki failed me on this one, but- and maybe this is backwards thinking, the WFCT Galvatron is this height, at least comparing him to WFCT Megatron, who I've decided is the same height as Gen 1 Megatron, who we actually have a number for- I am aware it's convoluted but it's all I got)

Netflix Cybertron Trilogy - ~18 Feet 6 inches (Galv. Okay so, Galvatron and Megatron are entirely separate beings in this universe, which is a large departure from Gen 1 where they're effectively the same guy, which means I could compare their heights, and this is about the height Galvatron is. And I have decided that the WFCT Megatron is the same height as Gen 1 Megatron because they're nearly identical otherwise, making the assumption that the Galvatrons are the same easy. The amount of hoops I have to jump through sometimes...)

Gen 1 V1 - ~19 Feet (Mega. TFWiki. Hey look, it's the guy that's the foundation of like 5 other character's calculations)

Prime Wars - ~19 Feet (Mega. As I've said before, I have decided that this design is the same height as the Gen 1 design, because they're identical, yes one is 2d, and the other is 3d but I don't care)

Netflix Cybertron Trilogy - ~19 Feet (Mega. You already know what I'm going to say; it's identical to Gen 1. Just try and stop me)

Unicron Trilogy V2&3/ENG&CYB - ~19 Feet (Mega/Galv. He flip-flops so much in this universe, I think Megatron becomes Galvatron 3 separate times. For the uneducated, the Unicron Trilogy has given each of its 3 seasons separate names and 3 separate art styles. These are the designs used in Energon (S2) and Cybertron (S3). The Wiki had Cybertron's numbers but not Energon's, so for my own sanity, I decided the two were the same height. I could have done something in between Cybertron's and Armada's (S1) numbers, but there was a lot of float between the two)

One V2 - 19 Feet 10 Inches (Mega. As I have stated in the previous One entry: I don't trust Walmart, Meg and OP are the same height by the end of the movie, and the KCV LA and One are kinda one universe. Optimus is this height by the end of the movie, therefore so is Megatron. How many times do I have to explain this)

Cyberverse - 21 Feet (Oh sweet, sweet "I don't have to justify or explain my numbers, I have a source". This comes from a screen-shot of this video which has the Cyberverse height chart everyone uses, though the quality of the screen shot is iffy. If anyone has a better one, I would love to see it)

RID 2001 - ~22 Feet (Mega/Galv. TFWiki. Why are there so many Megatrons who become Galvtron at random and look functionally identical to each other why does this keep happening. Also this guy transforms into a hand)

Unicron Trilogy V1 - ~23 Feet (Mega/Galv. TFWiki. I am very tired, we have another functionally identical Megatron Galvatron conversion and I am in pain)

Bayverse V2 - 30 Feet (Mega/Galv. TFWiki, Movies 4 & 5. This time, they're actually identical, and Mr. Bay has once again blessed me with numbers from all of his movies)

Aligned Cont. WF/FOC - ~30 Feet (Mega. TFWiki. Look man, I don't know how he grows nearly five feet between the games and the shows, it's just what the video game info screen said)

Animated - ~31 Feet (Mega. Animated has no actual numbers, but the lovely @phoenix-inanis has provided a frankly astounding resource with their own calculations for the heights of all the TFA characters. Go look at it, it's wonderful -> https://phoenix-inanis.notion.site/TFA-Height-Chart-f6ad2960ca8c4c5b859ee4958723aaa4?pvs=4)

Aligned Cont. TFP V1 - 34 Feet 5 Inches (Mega. Yes, this is from Fandom. But, and I will continue to say this until my lungs give out, this entire universe is just fucking enormous. Look, I believe Bayverse is the most consistent tf universe when it comes to the transformers' models and designs, and if we do some comparisons between characters with similar listed heights (I did it at the end of this post), it's way too close for me not to believe it)

Bayverse V1 - 35 Feet (Mega. TFWiki, Movies 1-3. Look at this bitch, getting his secrets exposed by Mr. Bay. Look at him, he's going to shrink down in the forth movie, gonna get dumped down to 6th place on the podium. Get Shrunk, Idiot)

Aligned Cont. TFP PR V2 - 42 Feet 7 Inches (Mega. Look at this enormous bitch, look at the freak standing there, fuckin enormous n' shit. Wack ass Unicron- Did you know that this is probably the TALLEST base form transformer ever? Excluding any super modes or upgrades or a transforming Cybertronian Base/Spaceship, just default general body size, I'm pretty sure this Megatron is the tallest Regular transformer ever)

Not Pictured: RID 2001 Galvatron Pallet - ~22 Feet (the only thing that was different between the two designs was the colours, if felt redundant to include it), Unicron Trilogy Galvatron Pallet(s) - Armada: ~23 Feet, Energon/Cybertron: ~19 Feet (Again, just the colours changed, otherwise everything else was the same)

I have done it. I have conquered my Everest. I have finished the big two charts. If anyone has any suggestions for which transformer I should aggressively analyze next please tell me I don't know which ones to do next

Here are the different layers separated out into their own pictures, I know it's kinda hard to tell everyone apart when they're all on top of each other.

[phaticserpent]

Losing your virginity to Pan request ☺️

Oh absolutely!

I wrote this multiple times and I still don't like it, but I hope you do!

Warning: smut, nsfw (dirty talk)

Normally when you weren't able to sleep, you would hike up a trail that Pan had shown you, where you could see the night sky and Mermaid Lagoon. This night, you felt lazy to get out of the warm sheets, so you tried to force yourself to sleep. You were almost successful, when you heard the soft pan flute and you eagerly left to find the source. Soon enough, you stumbled into an opening with a small stream running and Pan sat on a rock, gently blowing into his panpipes. Since you felt like you were intruding, you turned around slowly and attempted to slip away quietly.

But you heard the music stop abruptly, "No need to be shy, you're not interrupting anything." Pan spoke.

"Oh, alright." You walked over to him. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay." Pan didn't say anything, but he made room on the rock for you. He patted it, signaling for you to sit and you reluctantly did.

"So…what brings you out, love?"

"I should be asking you that." You laughed. "Plus, I already told you."

"Right." Pan stared at his panpipes before tucking it away. "I couldn't sleep."

"You too?" You asked and he raised an eyebrow at you. "Oh….I meant–"

"So what were you saying about being worried for me?" Pan teased. Your face flushed and you stared at the running stream.

"I was about to sleep, but then I heard your music so I came looking for you." You declared. Pan chuckled softly, and his eyes landed briefly on your lips before he looked away.

"Well I'm alright, love." He stated. "I could play you a tune to help you sleep." You shook your head at the offer.

"Nah, I'd rather talk to you." You smiled at him.

"I know, I'm hot." Pan grinned and you rolled your eyes. You couldn't deny it, you usually would. But lately, he's been on your mind. However, you knew those feelings would never be reciprocated. He was Peter Pan. Romance wasn't his thing. "Love? Are you listening?"

"Hm?" You stared at him. "I must've zoned out, sorry." You smiled sheepishly as he continued to stare at you. Pan reached out his hand to cup your face and you immediately tensed.

"(Y/N)–"

"What? Is there a bug?" You asked, your eyes trying to see what he was doing, but Pan's grip slowly moved to the back of your neck where he pulled you into a kiss. You held onto him as you melted from the contact. Eventually, the two of you pulled away and Pan averted his gaze as you stared at him. "Pan–" you groaned.

"Shit." He muttered, pulling you towards him for another kiss. You stumbled forward and Pan placed his hands on your hips to keep you balanced. You moaned into the kiss and you cupped the back of his head from scraping against the hard surface. Slowly, you pulled away from his lips to kiss his neck. You swore you felt your heart flip as he let out a groan and whimper. "(Y/N)....." He started.

"Hm?"

"Let's do this somewhere else." Pan breathed. You agreed and he brought you back to his tree house. You sat on the bed, patiently waiting for Pan to finish touching up on the protection and he joined you. "Are you sure you still want to continue?"

"Yes, now shut up and kiss me." You pulled him in and Pan pressed his lips to yours, gently lowering you onto the bed. He lifted his leg, pushing his knee and spreading your legs apart as he gave you the smallest bit of friction. You let out a muffled moan, holding onto Pan for your life as his tongue slipped inside. Before pulling away, he teasingly bit the bottom of your lip before his tongue dragged down your neck. You gasped, your legs reaching out to wrap around his waist.

"Easy, love." Pan chuckled against the shell of your ear. He readjusted himself so he could discard his shirt, before he gently lifted your shirt. He leaned down to kiss your collarbone before proceeding, where his tongue dragged to your nipples. Your breath hitched as he took one into his mouth and your hands tugged at his hair. Pan could feel his cock twitch at the slight sound of your moans from him overstimulating your nipples, he nipped at it before swirling his tongue around the soft skin. You squirmed under him, your face buried between his neck as you cried out.

"F-fuck." You gasped, his finger played with your other nipple and you could feel your high coming. Pan had no intention of stopping, but his focus moved down to your stomach and he pulled off your pants. Suddenly, you felt bare and shy, shuddering from the way he kissed your inner thighs. "Please, Pan."

"Call me Peter." He whispered before kissing your inner thigh again. You held in a breath as his kisses grew closer to your sex, tensing as he parted your undergarment to the side. He gently kissed your sex and you whimpered from the softness. "Just relax, love." His hands trailed up your legs to grab the plush of your thigh before he slipped his tongue inside. You let out a soft whimper and squeak, the sensation was so foreign yet pleasurable. He flicked his tongue upward as he began to suck on your clit, smirking from your reaction. You let out a choked moan and gripped the sheets below, unable to squeeze your legs as Pan's hold was unbreakable. He continuously chased your high and to hear those melodic moans. Your back was arched and your legs were trembling when another wave of orgasm rolled through, you fell completely limp as he ate you like a starved man.

"I…..I can't feel my legs…..Peter ~!" You whined. Hearing your whines, he kissed your inner thighs before he quickly discarded his pants. "I thought you were going to suck me till I passed out." You let out a throaty laugh.

"Sorry to disappoint." Pan grinned. Unfortunately, you couldn't sit upright to smack the grin off his face. He got rid of his undergarment and moved on top of you, as he lined his cock to your sex. "You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this." He groaned. You didn't know what to say, you wanted to smack him for not doing it sooner but you also wanted him to stay in the present and absolutely break you. You didn't get either out as he pushed in, breaking your focus.

"Fuck." You cried. Pan stilled and he leaned in to cup your face to steal a kiss. He then shoved the rest of his length in, swallowing in your moans as you adjusted to his size. He pulled away from the kiss to brush away your tears.

"Relax." He whispered.

"S-so big." You gasped, which emitted a short chuckle from Pan. "Shut up."

"You feel amazing." He groaned out. "Love, can I move?" His eyes searched for an answer, and you let out a reluctant 'yes'. His hands rubbed circles on your hips as he leaned down to pepper your neck with kisses, as he pulled out briefly and thrusted back in. Your arms clung onto his neck and your legs wrapped around his waist as he buried himself deep inside. His thrusts were sharp and deep, hitting every spot that had you seeing stars.

"Peter –" you called, only for his lips to capture yours once again. Your moans were muffled as he continuously fucked into you, everytime he would push his tip deep into you which had your walls tightening around him.

"Mmm….Peter," you muttered. He only pulled away for a second to give you a breath, before diving back in for more. While stealing your moans and gasps, he pushed your legs up, pinning your knees to your chest. He gave an experimental thrust, humming with content as you whined against his lips.

"O-oh," Pan groaned. " 'so good." He pulled away and you whined from the loss of his warmth. He gripped onto your hips, pinning you in place as he fucked you into the mattress. You let out a wail from the overstimulation, choking on your moans as he ruthlessly thrusted into you. Your walls convulsed around him, earning a gasp and a moan from him. Through your lashes, you watched as he furrowed his eyebrows, his mouth hung agape as he let out the softest whine. His hips wavered before it stilled and you felt his load pool into you. He whispered your name before leaning down for a kiss, while rolling his hips.

"Mmm, so good for me." He chuckled. "And only for me." Harshly pinning your legs above your head, he began snapping his hips into you. You still felt delirious from the overstimulation, you couldn't believe you were doing this with your friend.

"W-why didn't you say…..ah!" You were interrupted with a particular sharp thrust. "Why didn't y-you say anything?" You asked.

"Well love, I didn't know h-how you felt about me." Pan shuddered. You reached out, moving past his cheek to grab his ear and tug on it. "O-ow, ow ow ow!" Despite being in pain, you felt the familiar warmth filling you again, which made Pan briefly stop.

"Are you…..a masochist?" You grinned at the discovery. His ears turned red, and he turned his head to the side to hide his flushed face. "You're so cute."

"I'm not!" Pan gaped at you, his face still flushed. "You're rather bold to make assumptions when you're on the receiving end, love." He quipped at you. To prove his point, he thrusted his hips sharply, which only pushed his fill deeper inside.

"A-ah! –bastard." You breathed out. He gave you a cheeky grin before inching closer to your face, stealing a kiss as he continued to hammer his hips into you. Abruptly, he pressed his hand onto your womb, and you felt a surge of heat. You must've had a quizzical look on your face as Pan was quick to explain.

"A spell to make sure you don't get impregnated. It's everlasting." He whispered.

"Thank you." You let out a soft chuckle. "I can be stress free." You joked. He let out an exasperated sigh as he leaned down to nip at your neck.

"Shut up." He growled, his cock burying back inside. You whimpered and yelped as his stamina never wavered. Pan let out a stifled and hissed moan when you latched your teeth onto his shoulder, muffling your moans. A hand went up to your neck as he pulled away, forcing you to unlatch. "Now, who told you to do that? Let me hear everything."

"You told me to 'shut up'." You noted, giving him a smug expression. Pan rolled his eyes.

"I must've fucked the logic out of you." Pan breathed out weakly.

"I think you're giving yourself too much credit." You laughed. Which pushed Pan to the edge, his hand didn't leave your throat, but he didn't tighten his grip. Instead, he kept one hand on your throat and the other hand pinning one leg up as he continuously pounded into you. Leaving you at a loss for words, but rather a moaning mess. You felt your high approaching and you started begging and crying for more, which he graciously gave. When you finally reached your high and your walls clenched down on him, Pan didn't stop. He fucked you through your high and he could feel your legs trembling from the stimulation. "P-Peter ~! Please, please, please – fuck! Peter!" You cried out. He paused as he reached his high, dumping his load inside. He pulled out and stared at your abused sex before he flipped you onto your stomach.

"No more words, love?" Pan teased before pushing himself back inside. You let out a choked moan, crying out in surprise when you felt him push your head into the sheet as he towered over you. One hand pushed against your shoulder to keep you in place as he began to snap his hips forward. "Fuck you feel so good." You were still a babbling mess, repeating his name like a broken record.

"F-fuck fuck~, m-more!" You whined. Pan let out a grunt as he picked up the pace, occasionally letting out soft and whiny moans. You felt yourself squeeze around his cock, listening to him gasp and curse under his breath. You couldn't even get away as he pistoned his hips into you, keeping you locked in place. "Too much ~!" You sobbed out.

"N-not enough." He groaned. "Need you……n-need you." Without warning, you squeezed around him as you felt your orgasm approach abruptly. Pan shuddered but he still kept going, chasing after his high, which followed shortly after. He stilled momentarily and you felt more heat pool inside. As you caught your breath, he continued snapping his hips.

"A-ah! Wait, I j-just came!" You cried out, trying to wiggle away but his grip was strong. You sobbed and cried out, moaning and gasping out his name continuously. Pan choked out a moan as he felt you convulsed around him again.

"F-fuck, love ~! …I could do this all day ~" He groaned. Finally, his mouth hung agape from overstimulation and stilled as you felt the familiar warmth. You let out a yelp when he collapsed on top of you. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you onto your side as he pulled out of you.

"Maybe I should've confessed sooner." You joked, burying your face into the crook of your neck in embarrassment. Pan let out an exhausted chuckle, his hands holding you close as you began to kiss his neck.

"Love, if you continue doing that, we won't be getting any sleep." He warned.

"And what if I want that?" You whispered against his ear, grinding down on him. Which emitted a grunt from Pan, he then stared at you before his gaze moved down to your lips. Taking the hint, you pressed your lips to his. You reached down, brushing your hand against his cock but moved past that to grab the sheets. "Goodnight." You grinned before pulling the sheets up. Pan stared at you in bewilderment and confusion.

"You little…..tease!" Pan gaped at you. "I will fuck that attitude out of you in the morning."

"I'll be looking forward to it." You snickered to yourself. Pan rolled his eyes at you before drifting off to sleep, his arms still wrapped around you.

[ninguitar]

　　sugar talking ──── your eyes ꣑꣒ only .

LOWKEY.　◦　❛ in which a concert you were tantalized by your friends into attending led to a one-night hook-up with band member, yu "karina" jimin, who was coincidentally a classmate, too. though incredulous and foolish, in karina's eyes, you were way too good to have you slipping through her fingers, but even so, she couldn't just act on it, leaving the two of you in an awkward predicament, keeping the feelings amidst lowkey. ❜

BACK. # NEXT PROFILES. #　

00.　　losers (stuco.)

y/n ; stuco vice pres. swears she'll post consistently every wednesday, yet she is almost always too lazy to edit her videos. is also on the badminton club for fun (also mainly because of keeho and ricky). is manon's partner-in-crime. somehow, she manages to squeeze in studying into her schedule. argues with keeho about who's the n1 sza fan.

yoon keeho ; stuco secretary. vlogs for fun ^_^ argues with y/n about being the self-proclaimed n1 sza fan and will never relent. plays badminton and is probably the most advanced out of everybody—he could even play professionally. is probably the most charismatic out of the group, along with manon. somehow knows all the drama in snhs?? his source: nobody knows.

manon bannerman ; stuco pres. she does almost everything for college apps. most charismatic in the group and is most approachable. ranked #1 in almost every subject and overall. got dragged into badminton club yet is barely hanging on. y/n's partner in crime. similar to keeho, she vlogs for fun and is usually unserious in her videos. loves, LOVES thrifting with megan, y/n, & chaewon.

megan skiendiel ; stuco pr officer. got dragged into being a part of stuco by manon and somehow got elected. likes to tease y/n about everything and anything she could and tag-teams y/n with manon. sweetest girl snhs knows. designated driver for stuco along with zhanghao. despite her long schedule, megan somehow attends most of snhs' party with ricky and kai.

shen "ricky" quanrui ; stuco treasury. keeho's and y/n's main target for teasing. known for his spectacular fashion taste all throughout snhs. singlehandely, his presence is what attracts more students to stuco events. most often seen with chaewon and zhanghao—the three of them always up to some chaos. loves, and i mean, LOVES exploring music genre, his most listened genre being r&b soul.

kim chaewon ; stuco senator. is somehow doing extraordinary well in her classes despite her desperate efforts in getting a tutor. is one of the most chaotic members in stuco, always up to something with either ricky or zhanghao. her dog is as much as a menace as she is. is practically worse than y/n at relationships—which is shown with her current "situationship" that has left her in shambles.

zhang hao ; stuco historian. somehow started getting called "zhanghao" despite his name being just hao, but nonetheless, he didn't pay much mind to it. tries to keep ricky's and chaewon's antics in check, though, often finds himself amused by them. has led competitions with manon academically, though there's no tension nor bad blood, just pure playful competition.

huening kamal kai ; stuco chairperson. makes music on the side after gaining followers from posting covers, and now posts his own songs. works hand-in-hand with kang taehyun and choi yeonjun. i fear he's the best advice giver in the group besides keeho and megan. likes to fool around at times, but usually is a no-nonsense person to keep everything in order.

A/N.　◦　hii, tysm for all the support so far for those who have tuned in !!! also, i js wanted to apologize for the long wait; i'm preoccupied with school work😭.

taglist. ୨ৎ @yeetaberry127 @yoontoonwhs @1luvkarina @sed7ction @stareaa @cceanvvaves (send an ask, or dm if you want to be tagged !! )

[mixelation]

https://www.tumblr.com/headspace-hotel/755488689983029248

Tori and her penicillin

my god. okay some notes (source: i worked briefly in a fungus lab)

not all fungi are mushrooms i'm going to scream

i DID scream when they were like "oh just get bacteria from your own vagina"

i know they said you're only minimizing contamination, but i want to emphasize how HARD it is to prevent contamination, especially if you're pre-1800s. like my current lab attempted glass plates for a while as part of a "go green" attempt and we had to stop because they are so hard to sterilize. you are just going to have to accept that you're going to get contamination

you can also use potato as your plate base :)

if gelatin/agar is a problem to obtain, you actually can grow penicillium AND bacteria in liquid! i'm not quite sure how those assays would go on a practical level but you CAN do it. an old ass protocol i read from the 50s or 60s suggested liquid was better for producing and collecting penicillin (no link because i'm too lazy to look it up again)

it is unclear how common penicillin-producing fungal strains are in nature. you might find one that only kind of kills bacteria. the existence of penicillin was discovered by happenstance contamination, but historically high-producing fungi were experimentally evolved in lab, not randomly found in nature

i think everyone is additionally underestimating how sophisticated some types of historical medicinal practices were. "if soap's not invented yet--" folks humans have been making soap for thousands of years

"cure the plague" you're going to start selecting for antibiotic resistance like immediately so maybe have a plan for that before you go off to cure the plague (plague in the sense of "widespread disease"; apparently penicillin is not super effective against actual plague)

don't call growing fungi "breeding" it jfc

[milffies]

Hiiuuu luv hru!? ❤️ you're LITERALLY my favourite writer who writes angel devil so well!! If you're well and still into csm, is it possible for u to write for him? Maybe more nsfw? (Feel free to ignore this if you don't feel like writing this!) MISSED U SM

hiii nonnie , i'm good , just real busy!!! i'm so glad u like my writing :3 i'm still into csm, just haven't seen the fandom that active but i love angel a whole lot so i enjoyed writing this sm . <33

— ౨ৎ : warnings angel devil x chubby! reader . basically a smutty character study, very tame.

to start things off, angel is terribly gullible !! either he doesn’t care enough, or hasn’t been exposed to people for that long to understand when he’s being 'played'. sweet boy is very, very mallible !! <3

with that said — getting him into a contract that’d allowed for you to freely touch him without risking your lifespan wasn’t all too difficult. once again, it’s between equally likely possibilities that angel let this happen because he admittedly craves touch, or simply didn’t expect himself to get tricked. if you’d ever ask him about the matter, all you’ll be met with is a lazy shrug and an ‘i’dunno’ on his end.

butbutbut!!, once you’ve introduced him to physical contact, and he see’s that it’s something enjoyable, angel very quickly becomes a lovey, mushy, needy puddle. calls you his ‘favorite human’ and all !! though, he is still a devil before all else, and combined with his already nonchalant personality, he’ll process emotions ‘n whatnot very differently. give the poor thing time, though — he’ll get better at this for you !!

the first time you touch angel’s hand — you note that it’s surprisingly soft. after a second of thought, though, you conclude it isn’t too shocking considering this is angel devil. the devil with big, expressive eyes and pretty pink lips. lips you often times find yourself imaging not being lethal.

he jerks his hand away from yours after you’d two had made a contract that’d give you free reign to touch him. you watch as he looks at his hand as if you were the one that could drain his very life essence away. the thought makes you wonder if devil’s even have the life force to even get sucked away.

those same doe-like eyes of his blinks in succession a few times before landing on you.

“soo,” you’d drawl, a small, knowing grin on your lips. “i feel fine. i’m guessing that didn’t take off any of my time?”

you’re met with a shaky nod from the smaller figure. he licks a stripe over the thin expanse of his lips your eyes still haven’t fully moved from.

“can….can you touch me again?”

the only, truly proper way to describe an early ‘relationship’ angel is as a needy kitten. the ones that very and visibly clearly want affection and attention — but never initiate physical contact first. at times, he’ll reluctantly sprawl himself on you, a guiding hand on your wrist being led to his head. nono — of course he doesn’t need your attention !! you just happen to be a convient source of it (he convinced himself this to be the reason why he likes being around you.)

as angel is exposed to more affection and touch — and you bring him to the revelation that it can be sexual — a noticable spike in his clinginess is very obvious. constantly seeking out reassurance when nestled into you — a shy, reluctant: “we can uhm…cuddle…right?”, an unsure: “work was soo tiring today, can we hug ‘n stuff…?” to the suprise of none; he didn’t really do any devil hunting — but that’s an afterthought to him when you coddle him as if he’s some little, helpless thing. he’s too precious like this, how can you not take advantage of the moment !! <3

if you’re chubby: angel is all over you even more !! so soft, so warm — you’re pratically his own heated, weighted blanket. angel knows he’s more petite and lithe, by human standards, and clearly by devil standards. loves how nice his smaller frame slots so perfectly against your own larger body though, constantly nuzzling up against the softest parts of you.

���stop movin’ s’much,” a muffled voice murmurs, the owner of the voice’s head comfortably buried in your chest.

“tryin’ to get comfy.” angel lazily says, gazing up at you, his pretty long lashes obscuring parts of his irises. he’d been that close to probably having the greatest nap in his life, but he couldn’t find himself fully drifting off because of you shifting around. truly, you were a blessing and a curse. cozy and soft to the touch, but always moving — interrupting his plans to laze around. </3

with a small smile and a hand to his scalp, a muttered apology is given to him. how can you not adore him like this?; pressed so close to you as if he’s trying to melt into you, breathes shallow and not completely taken with the bratty front he usually puts up.

angel feels your own rising chest even out, letting out a content sigh. finally, it’s hard trying to get proper shut-eye when your human pillow can’t stop moving.

“thas’ better…” the devil murmurs, pretty eyelashes fluttering, before closing.

like i wrote about in this post, angel, like everything else, is very lazy when it comes to him and sexual encounters. this doesn’t in specific mean that he’s not a good partner, or unattentive to your needs — he just doesn’t know. that, and, he never puts extra energy into anything he does, even if this, (to him) unknowingly jeopardizes his own pleasure. baby doesn’t just yet grasp the concept that, the thing that already makes him feel good and overwhelmed, could somehow be better !! </3

very, very sweet and absorbed in what makes the two of you feel the best. especially you. kissing this part of you makes you let out those pretty noises for him? noted. pressing, and rubbing his fingers in unsteady circles has you closing your doughy thighs around his hand? angel’s certainly keeping that tucked away in his head. will want you desperately to talk him through it, guiding him where to touch, suck, and kiss. actually puts in effort when you praise him, don’t acknowledge the fact he lives off this though — he pouts !!

angel’s hips rolls against your own softer ones at a languid pace, occasionally pistoning down to give a proper thrust.

“w—warm…” he lets out — the sound a mix between a murmur and a whine. he bites his bottom lip and hides his face in your neck to cut the sound off prematurely. feels too good for him; too squishy, too syrupy. god, how did he manage existence for so long without ever feeling this ?

“yeah?” you tease, a hand coming to comb through his slightly damp locks. at the touch, angel properly lets out a whine, his hips giving one, two, then three quick thrusts into your too-tight pussy. though his moves are uncoordinated, the shakey rocking of his pelvis against yours has your pussy rewarding his movements with tight clenches. and of course—

“yeah.” he echoes — he whimpers. "feels s’good — feels good f’you too…right?” how eager he is to please. though, he’d never admit it. but you can tell, especially with how he’s zeroing in on rolling his hips in tight circles — knows that gets you to tighten up around his pretty cock and let out hushed moans of your own.

“good boy, angel.” you sigh, head lolling back, prompting him to bury his face deeper into your sweaty flesh. needs to be close to you, needs to know this is real.

angel’s too precious like this — not fully understandant on how to please sexually. the small devil is unintentionally edging you, you’re so close to making a sticky mess over the petite man — if only he was a ‘lil bit more experienced.

though, that’s what you’re there for, right? <3

[ayaisokay]

The Kids Aren't Alright

* ~ I'm sorry for making this ~ *

Doomers & Fatalism

Regardless of your age, you need a reason to move forward. You need hope. Yet, it's hard to find hope for teens and young adults.

Not a year goes by without an update on the planet's decline (at our hand), wealth is only feeling more unstable and unequally distributed, a pandemic destroyed any hope of sociability for some, and social media does more harm than good when it "connects" people.

There's no true community, nothing to take pride in, there's hardly motivation for ambition or wealth. Hell, we grow up being told we'll be a generation of renters, because it's a statistical improbability than any of us will EVER afford a home without working 3 jobs into our grave.

I can't speak for America, but I know my government haven't made any real effort to prevent renter's from taking that news and slowly inflating rent costs each month.

I'm a part of the generation that is thought to deal with the broadest range of mental health concerns; however, I'm also part of the generation that's most likely to be told to "deal with it," or "grow up," by the people perpetuating our suffering, or the peers that fell victim to toxic hustle culture— enabling the shitty circumstances.

When you start adulthood with so many problems that directly impact your life, most of which come at no fault of your own, you'd hope for help in addressing those matters, but it never comes.

We're told we're lazy, we don't try hard enough, and we've got it easy (which is a demonstrable lie). How is it any surprise we became hopeless doomers? At some point you just get the idea that we were destined to fail.

Threats of War

Now we're told to be ready for World War 3 and I'm struggling to understand why. What values am I defending? Why should I die for a country that doesn't care about me?

Sure, Ukraine and Palestine are in shitty situations, but saying that doesn't require me to do anything. Though they demonstrate something: the government will risk our lives for money, and turn a blind eye to genocide if it suits them.

All that matters is that we're made to feel like our interests align. They don't represent us. They represent themselves.

Don't get me wrong, I don't support either conflict, and I sympathise with the aforementioned nations; however, I am not willing to die for them— I don't think you are. So is it even fair for us to bother complaining? It's not like diplomacy has done a thing so far.

Whether we're roped into a war or not, it doesn't feel like we'd have a choice.

Hobbies and Corporations

Normally I'd propose finding an outlet for everything. I'm not sure that's ideal anymore. Commonplace hobbies like gaming, sports, martial arts, reading, and art, they require 3 things: time, motivation, and effort.

Thanks to hustle culture, holding 3 jobs, running a drop shipping business, and abandoning any meaningful social life is considered just enough and reasonable. That doesn't leave time for personal hobbies, entertainment, or time to actually live. A life like that is no life at all. You're an animal operating on the exclusive goal of survival. You're alive, but you're not living.

Among those of us too physically or mentally scarred to work like our peers, we compassionately took to pen and paper, or software and devices, writing stories, drawing and animating worlds, or making music.

I fear that pocket of joy is getting smaller. AI image generation has already impacted artists, AI voice recreations are already being used in place of some voice actors, and we've all seen the AI voice covers for songs— claiming "you don't need to learn to sing." It didn't take long for me to see "generative AI" being proposed as a source for track samples and stems in music production.

Considering such things, it's hard to motivate yourself to put your work out there. You struggle to justify spending time creating anything, and you're probably not ready to put the effort into producing enough algorithm optimised works per day. After all, no one will see it. No one cares.

That's how it feels.

Social Media

Maybe we still have digital spaces? Really. Are cespools like Twitter spaces you can enjoy? Even Tumblr is quite detached, with small accounts struggling to get so much as a couple likes— nevermind a reblog, and god forbid you get a comment or DM.

That's minor though, it's the relationships that bother me. The ability to lock someone out of your life, within 5 seconds, for the slightest of perceived infractions. You're sensitive and a snowflake if you need boundaries, and you're "rude" and "mean" when you're pushed too far for not establishing them.

You can join a fandom or community and run into those issues, but do you really need more trouble? Ive hung around with furries since I was 13 or 14. It wasn't a furry that SA'd me, and I've never been groomed. But as a child online, I was labelled as a dog fucking groomer (at 15), because I was in a furry community discord server. I don't like to think about how that made the young adult owner of the server feel.

Social media is good for "satirical trolls," who take pleasure in hurting as many people as they can, and then claiming it's OK because they're joking, and you should've known. Is it really worth the effort for anyone else? You know, us "normal people," not bogged down by million strong fanbases, actively managing parasocial relationships and morally questionable stalking.

Closing Statements

I'm not entirely sure why I wrote this post. I guess I'm just another girl crying on the internet when I should save it for the therapy I can't actually afford.

I want to be hopeful, to feel like there's something attainable to desire, or even just things to look forward to. It's been a long time since I woke up and felt there was a good reason to be awake or even alive.

Thanks,

- The Girl That Doesn't Exist