#should i make a love life tag or is that too cheesy

[ghostbeam]

Fwb with Oliver who expects he’ll have to break things off once you get too attached but it’s worth it for a little fun except u never get too attached in fact ur the one who has to tell him it’s over bc he’s gotten too clingy

[sailorrhansol]

Chat, is that Rizz? | j.ww (m)

Pairing: Streamer!Wonwoo x Streamer! F.reader 

❀ Summary: Your rivalry with Wonwoo has existed for as long as you’ve been streaming. It’s fun, and both of your communities love it. Wonwoo is happy to play along - at least until you question his rizz while live, and he feels like he should remind you just how much rizz he has.

❀ Word Count: 5,366

❀ Genre: Established Relationship, Faux Rivals 

❀ Type: Smut, a hint of fluff

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

❀ Warnings: This is so cheesy and stupid and I don’t care!! Explicit language, teasing and light antagonization, gamer and streamer speak in spots, sexually explicit content including spanking, fingering, unprotected sex, hint of overstimulation, playful banter and teasing during sex, bodily fluids, soft dom if you squint. UNEDITED.

❀ A/N: I don’t care that parts of this are kind of cringe, @daechwitatamic tells me to write so I write and I needed to  get out of a writing slump. Yes the game they are playing is Valorant. No I did not call it Valorant. Have I played Valorant in the last year? No! Anyway, please enjoy this shameless porn no plot! Also please don't arrest me for the fucking TERRIBLE puns.

❀ Disclaimer: Disclaimer: All members of Seventeen are faces and name claims for stories. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios. Moreover, none of my works accurately reflect, represent or take a stance on the nuances of Korean culture, cities, people etc. Seventeen members are not Seventeen culturally, intellectually, physically, or representationally in my stories, and should be considered name and face stand-ins for made up characters.

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“You’re never going to hit Immortal with that strat, Wonwoo,” you tease, cringing as he gets gunned down by the enemy team’s Reyna. “Rotated too early.” 

“Here they go,” Seungcheol mutters into the mic, his exasperation making you grin as you fix your eyes on the screen. Like both you and Wonwoo, Seungcheol has already died in the round, watching as Mingyu navigates the map to pick up the bomb to attempt to save the round. 

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you while you were dead,” Wonwoo shoots back. You scrunch your nose, knowing that it is, unfortunately, true. “I was in the land of the living. You know. Because I didn’t dry peek long and die.” 

“Seungcheol told me to push site!”

“Maybe push with util, though? Or be better.”

On the right side of your screen, you can see your chat blowing up. You grin and roll your eyes - you aren’t actually bothered by Wonwoo and you know he isn’t mad either. Playing games with him always elicits teasing and a steady back and forth.

Once upon a time, his poking might bother you. Now, you’ve played enough games with Wonwoo over the last two years to know better. It’s all in good faith, and it’s part of the joke, this ongoing way the two of you bicker and go tit for tat. 

“I am nothing if not an accommodating teammate,” you offer back. Mingyu manages to get to the site, swinging wildly to check for enemies. “I’m a helper. I like to help people.”

“You can help me by shutting up,” Mingyu mutters. 

“Yeah,” Wonwoo echos, a smirk prominent in his voice. “Shut up.” 

“No I’m talking to you too,” Mingyu assures. “And you did rotate without me and too early. So she’s right.”

That shuts Wonwoo up, a chorus of laughter echoing in the headset as your team watches Mingyu try and go for the clutch. Your laughter fades and you mute yourself on Discord in an attempt not to distract Mingyu, eyes flicking over to the comments flooding in on your stream.

It’s a rewarding feeling to see how many there are, donation notifications popping up on the top of your screen making your heart stutter a little. You can see Seokmin moderating as usual in the chat, reminding people the commands for frequently asked questions and removing anything weird. 

There is a lot of weird. 

“Thank you for the dono, Shaezy98. Yes, PiCheolwinning, I hit Immortal a few days ago! What do you guys think about doing a nonstop stream until I hit Radiant? Would that be fun?” 

Resounding yes responses flood the comments. You grin, pulling your legs up into the chair to make small talk with the community you’ve so carefully built over the last few years. You see a suggestion in the comments that makes you laugh, leaning forward to unmute yourself in Discord. 

“Hey Wonwoo,” you ask. “My chat wants us to try 1v1 where we customize each other’s settings. Thoughts?” 

It’s a common question. People love the dynamic you and Wonwoo specifically have, enjoying seeing the friendly rivalry grow over the years. You can recall several streams you’ve done just playing together, hosting charity events and promoting new games as a dynamic duo. 

Some wonder if you’re together. There’s no hard evidence, but there's chemistry there. A lightness to your banter that comes with a familiarity your fans try to piece together, a gentleness that sounds the edges of your insults to make sure the other knows your kidding. 

Wonwoo lets out a deep hum. “You’re gonna go demon mode on my settings. Then I’d have to change them back.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes. Of course he’s worried about his settings, as if he can’t export them. “Is that a no?”

“What’s in it for me? Besides my fucked up settings and the risk you change all my weapon skins.”

Clearing your throat, you put on your best telemarketer voice. “The benefits to this offer are endless. For a limited time only, you can take advantage  of quality time spent with me-” 

“Not a benefit.” 

You ignore his interruption, a vein in your forehead ticking at the comment. “You can protect your honor and pride as a gamer, and as a special early bird offer, I’ll give all donations from that stream to a charity of your choosing. Thoughts?” 

Mingyu ends up losing the round, earning a resounding sigh and curse from everyone on the team. You move your mouse around to click through weapons and set yourself up for the next round. “They’re going to force,” you say, momentarily distracted from your sales pitch by strategy. “Wonwoo I can buy you a marshall.”

“Yeah.” 

You make the transaction for him and drop the weapon so he can pick it up, noting the comments coming in from viewers.

NoLo88: See, she always does stuff for him - I swear they’re together!!!

EzBoyZ: No way would she date him.

NoLo88: Are you kidding? Have you seen Wonwoo? He’s like the hottest streamer ever.

LoLPog69: Ugh I hope they’re not dating, she’s better single. 

 “See, I’m fun. I’m nice. I’m a team player who helps win games. What do you say?” 

“Fine, it’s a date.” 

The way he so casually says it makes your stomach flip. You hesitate for a moment, blinking in surprise before you realize he’s said it without really thinking about it. Biting  your bottom lip to fight a smile, you ask, “Oh? A date? Chat, is that rizz?” 

“Oh fuck off,” Wonwoo huffs, trying to cover up his mistake. You can’t help it - your smile spreads as he rushes to gloss over what he said. “It’s a figure of speech.” 

“He’s trying to rizz me, chat!”

“In your dreams.”

“You should change your tag from WonuWizard to WonuRizzard.” Wonwoo curses as he gets killed. You cackle, killing an enemy and taking their gun. “Oo, an operator. Do you want this, Wonwoo? What about changing your tag to RizzardOfOz?” 

Wonwoo groans on the other end of the mic and you can imagine the way he pushes back in his chair, sinking a little further down as he spectates the match. “Yes, save the op for me, please. Also, get your chat out of mine. I’m going to get a Rizzstraining order.” 

You note the way he says for me when he asks for the weapon you’ve picked up to keep for him. It is a favor to him, intended for him. Your viewers notice. 

Seungcheol swears. “You two are insufferable to play with sometimes. We’re trying to win a game.” 

Mingyu huffs. “Just stop Rizzsponding, Cheol. They’ll shut up eventually.” 

With a laugh, you settle in and focus on the game. Even as the teasing dies down, you and Wonwoo fall into a comfortable give and take, working together to win the next few rounds and eventually, the entire match after Wonwoo closes out the game with an ace. 

“Wow.” You lean back in your chair, stretching. It’s getting late at night, and you feel a little tired. “Mad Rizzpect, Wonwoo. Up your rizz game and maybe I’ll go on a date with you.” 

“Up my rizz game?” His tone has shifted as everyone starts talking over one another, Seungcheol and Mingyu getting into it over something sports related. You’re focused on the soft purr of Wonwoo’s voice, though. The raspiness of it. “If I wanted to rizz you, I would.” 

Fuck. His voice. You shift a little in your seat, clicking around your secondary monitor that is off stream to pull up Wonwoo’s stream. It loads, immediately showing his dark room with slow pulsing RGB lights in the background and shelving displaying different collectible items. 

Wonwoo looks like he always does: leaned back casually in his seat, the glow of his computer reflecting in the lens of his black-frame glasses. Dark bangs hang in his eyes, the rest of his hair hidden by the hood that is pulled up over his head. He’s chewing on one of the strings of his hoodie as he talks to his chat, voice gentle.

His hoodie has a little animated version of him over the left side of the chest, the character winking and giving finger hearts. You feel your lips twitch - you always loved the little cartoon version of himself. As always, he looks totally at ease. It’s the same even in an intense game, Wonwoo never feeling the need to lean closer to the screen or showing the tension in his shoulders.

Calm. Cool. Collected.

Except when you can force a rise out of him, of course. 

A bunch of notifications flood in your chat. You look over to them, reading through them and grinning. You pull your mic toward you, shaking your head. “Ugh I have all the Wonwoo apologists in my chat defending your rizz.” 

“Good” he shoots back. You watch in delayed time as he smirks on his end. He so rarely does a full smile, but you know it’s beautiful when he does. “You need to take Rizzponsibility for implying I have no rizz.” 

“No way,” Mingyu gasps. “Two Wonwoo puns in a single night?”

“Puns and attempted rizz?” You ask, cocking your head. “Huge day for Wonwoo fans everywhere.” 

“Again, that wasn’t rizz. You’ll know it when I use it.”  

“Sure, sure. Or maybe you just… don’t have any.” 

You watch the tick in Wonwoo’s jaw. A grin spreads across your face and you try to suppress it, knee bouncing in anticipation as you watch the minute changes in his expression. He drums his fingers on the armrest of his gaming chair, hypnotizing you for a moment. He has long, elegant fingers paired with a beautiful set of hands. 

“You really think I have no rizz?” he asks, voice low and oh you know that voice. You suppress a shiver and shake your head ‘no’ before realizing that he can’t see you. Or he does - because he says, “Use your words like a big girl.” 

If you weren’t on stream, your eyes might roll back in your head at the soft purr of his voice, the way in which he immediately switches gears, put out by your accusations that you already know are false. 

And because you’re you, you push him a little more, interested to see where it goes.  “Are you watching my stream, Jeon Wonwoo?”

“Mhmm. Trying to learn rizz, since apparently I have none. Go on, show the class. What have you got?”

Seungcheol and Mingyu both ooo and quiet down, putting you on the spot. Heat tiptoes up your neck to your ears. Being a streamer by nature is being under the spotlight, especially when you have a high follower account. This is different though, the pressure suddenly flipped to you as your friends settle in, waiting. 

“It’s all about the charizzma,” you joke, voice a little raspy. You swallow, eyes flicking to your secondary monitor where you can see Wonwoo watching his screen with a growing grin. “I can’t teach you how to have that, Jeon.” 

“What can you teach me, Angel?” 

Jesus. Fucking. Christ. You know that commanding tone anywhere, the soft shift from teasing to something a little darker, a little sharper. He doesn’t care that you’re both on the screen for live viewers, that this will be recorded, or that you have friends on the call, who have taken a backseat to watch the fencing match. 

And the angel. Sure, it’s a small part of your brand and gamertag, but the way Wonwoo says it implies something intimate. Darker. A gentle caress of the word against your skin. 

When you come up with nothing, Wonwoo grins on screen, devastatingly handsome. He knows he’s surprised you. “Not a problem,” he quips. “I’m an excellent teacher. I can teach you how to rizzpond to a direct question.” 

He surprises you by ending the stream suddenly. You blink in surprise, both Seungcheol and Mingyu calling Wonwoo’s name, assuming his internet has gone out or has been interrupted. With shaking hands, you remove one side of your headphones, listening. Heavy footsteps sound in the hall and you squeak, hitting the hotkey to show be right back on your stream.

Wonwoo stands in the doorway. He gives you a single, lopsided smirk before waltzing toward you, a predator stalking prey. His dark eyes are focused on you, drinking you in. 

“Noooo,” you yell at him, giddy and panicked all at the same time. You hold your hands out to push him away but he links your fingers instead pressing his palms against yours and pulls you toward him. He jerks your computer chair toward him, your knees crashing against his. “Hiiiii.” 

“No rizz, huh?” his voice is barely a murmur. 

“Ummm,” you glance over to your set up where the be right back glows. Wonwoo follows your line of sight before dropping his gaze back to you, eyes asking a question. “Do you… want to?”

Elation falls across his face. “I’m down if you are. You know that.” 

Chewing your lip, you smile and nod. You’ve long been planning to reveal that the two of you have been dating for a long time, and the present feels right. Not to mention the implication of him ending the stream and you slamming the be right back on at the same time. 

Wonwoo leans down and grabs the arms of your computer chair, spinning it around and pushing you back into the frame. He leans over your shoulder, the smell of sandalwood and lavender enveloping you, making your head spin. He hits the hotkey to turn your stream and mic back on. 

Your eyes drop to where you’re displayed in the camera, Wonwoo leans against the back of your chair, chest pressed to your shoulder as he grins at the camera. Your thighs clench, seeing that same cocky smirk you’re used to making a brief appearance on camera. 

“Sorry chat,” Wonwoo announces. “Sorry Cheol, Mingyu. I have to handle the disrizzspect going on in my own home. Say byeeee to chat, Angel.” 

“Byeeee,” you squeak on instinct, watching as he waves while your comments explode. He closes out the stream and cuts off the Discord call where Seungcheol and Mingyu are screeching, shutting down your computer entirely so there’s no chance for accidents. 

Stomach fluttering, you take off your headphones and look up at Wonwoo to find he’s already staring down at you, dark eyes hungry. You slide down a little in your chair, feeling your mouth go dry. You got what you wanted, but now that he’s there and you can feel the intensity crackling between you, you can’t help but balk just a little.

“What?” he asks, lips twitching at the corner. “Rizz got your tongue?” 

“I guess maybe you have a little rizz.”

“Ohhh, I see.” Wonwoo pulls your seat backward, spinning your chair around so that you face the bed. He lets go of the chair and walks backward, sitting on the edge of your bed. You stare at him, heart beating, breath quickening. “Now that there’s no one here I have rizz.” 

You pout. “It’s our brand.”

“Mhmm.” He leans back on your bed, the mattress dimpling under his weight. He pats his thigh with one hand. “You just love getting under my skin, don’t you?”

You climb out of your computer chair, stumbling a little as the blood starts to flow from where they were crisscrossed. He tsks at you as you regain your footing, padding over to where he sits, legs spread, thighs straining against his athletic shorts. 

Carefully, you climb into his lap. Your body buzzes as you settle over him, one knee on either side of his hips. You lean your weight into him, hands resting on top of his shoulders. Even through his hoodie, you can feel how warm his skin is. 

“Are you happy now?” 

“Huh?” 

One of his hands leaves the bed and cracks against your ass, starling you. You squeak and lean forward, the sting making your eyelids flutter. “You’re not even listening, are you?” 

“I wasn’t.” 

His hand kneads your ass through your shorts, soothing the sting from the slap. “I asked, are you happy now? Did you get what you wanted?” You nodded, letting your head hang down, burying your face in his neck. It’s warm and safe there, your thoughts sticky as his hand continues to explore your ass. “Remember when I said use your words like a big girl?”

“Yes. Yes, I got what I wanted.”

“And what was it you wanted?”

When you hesitate to answer, too focused on your slamming heart and stuttered breathing, his hand comes down across your ass again. You curse, melting into him, letting him bear your weight entirely. “Wanted to rile you up.”

“It worked.”

“I can tell.” 

Wonwoo’s hand trails to the edge of your shorts, fingers dancing along your thighs. You’re hype aware of his touch and the way it sends fire through you, stomach in knots and cunt aching between your legs as he fingers the hem of your shorts. 

“Is it okay that I interrupted your stream?”

The question is so much softer than he was a second ago. You lift your head to look at him. His face swims into focus, a momentary flicker of nervousness. Wonwoo is rarely impulsive, but the move to announce your rivalry is more romantic than most people knew was unplanned and spur of the moment. 

“It’s definitely okay. Is it okay with you?”

He nods, leaning forward to run his nose up the side of your neck. He inhales, taking in your scent and humming while the hand running along your shorts pulls at the fabric. “Just wanted to make sure you wouldn’t be upset.”

“No. Now the people in your chat know you’re mine.”

“Yours?” His mouth brushes against the hollow of your throat, hot and wet. Your head tilts back, lips parting as his tongue flicks against your skin. “Just wanted to claim me, is that it?”

“Your fans are horny?”

He nips your neck and a moan drips from you. “Yours aren’t?” 

“Not like yours.” 

“Too bad for them. There’s only one angel who can get under my skin.” Wonwoo takes you by the waist and rolls you over. Your breath leaves you in a huff as your back hits the mattress. He leans over you, knees caging you in on either side of your hips as he presses his mouth to your jawline, sucking kisses up toward your ear. “Only one drawback - she thinks I have no rizz.” 

You bring your hands to the hem of his hoodie, desperate to feel him. Sliding your hands under the fabric, you press your palms against his stomach, feeling his muscle flex as his skin warms your hands. His mouth is wet against your skin, teeth nipping your earlobe teasingly, drawing a raspy sound from you. 

“I think,” you gasp as he drops a hand between your legs to press against your clothed cunt, “That she might be wrong about the rizz.”

Wonwoo’s fingers apply pressure, barely circling your clit through the fabric. It worsens the ache between your legs, your thoughts getting scattered as you squirm underneath him. He brings his mouth to yours, stealing a greedy kiss. 

This is the part of Wonwoo that you know only you see. Where the calm and collected gamer turns into an all consuming force, stealing the breath from your lungs as his tongue presses against yours. You kiss him back with equal want, whimpering into his mouth as he presses his fingers a little harder against you. 

“Please,” you breathe against his mouth between kisses. “I know I was mean but please.”

“Why should I?”

“Because I’m sorry!”

“Are you, though?” He mouths down your neck to your collarbone, the sting of his teeth soothed by the rough pass of his tongue. “You got exactly what you wanted and more.” 

“I ammmm.”

His laughter is rough. The hand between your legs comes up to the top of your shorts, dipping past the waistline to sink downward. He groans when he feels the dampness of your underwear, the way he’s already worked you up. 

“No rizz,” he mutters to himself. You throb when you feel his fingers pull your underwear to the side, knuckles running up your wet folds where he stops at your clit to press down. Your nails scrap against his abs, body tensing under the stimulation. “This is a wet fucking fucking pussy for someone who has no rizz.” 

You can’t think of a response, mind reeling as Wonwoo plays with you properly. You writhe in his hands, melting as his fingers brush up and down your slit before coming back up to gently circle your clit. Your feet kick a little under him, unable to sit still as he works you - teases you. 

Fuck you realize he might do this all night. 

“You have a lot of rizz,” you breath, pressing the back of your head into the bed, gasping in surprise as he sinks a finger into your entrance. Already you’re clenching down on him, wanting more. “Fuck.” 

“I don’t know… maybe I just… lack what you need.”

“No,” you answer quickly. “Just… ugh like that.” 

The ease at which he knows how to touch you makes everything feel tenfold. Wonwoo knows you like the back of your hand, both intimately and mentally. What had started as two streamers annoying one another had turned into friendship at some point - you’d met him at a convention and realized he was far gentler and softer than you imagine. 

That had turned into something further - something deeper. The want when you were around him was something that you hadn’t expected, but it hasn’t gone away since. Even though you get to have him like this, finger stroking your inner walls and palm pressed against your clit, you always want more. Can’t stop wanting him. 

“Want,” you mutter, the only word you can think of. You feel the smile pressed against your skin, the wetness slicking his fingers as he presses in a second, stretching you. Your hips can’t off the bed but he pushes you back down, making you whine. 

“Why should I?” 

“Cause.”

“Not a good enough answer.” 

Wonwoo starts to retract his hand and you scramble, digging your nails into his hip to claw him back toward you. “Cause I love you.” 

“Closer…” 

“Cause I want you.”

“So close.”

“Cause I need you.” 

He hums in thought. “Good enough. Help me take these fucking shorts off.” 

Wonwoo pulls his hand out of your shorts and leans upward. You rip your hands from his hoodie to slide your shorts off, peeling your underwear down as you do. He taps you on the thigh, fingers sticky from your arousal as he shifts higher. You know what he’s asking, scooting backward on the mattress to give yourself more real estate.

His mouth comes back down to yours, lips soft. You love kissing him, tongue tangling as you bring your hands up to slide your fingers through his hair. He makes an appreciative sound, one hand supporting his weight as he hovers over you while the other slots back between your legs to resume where he left off.

Unrestricted by your shorts, he’s able to thrust his fingers properly. Your gasps break his kisses, hips rolling to meet the stroke of his fingers. He’s always been skilled with his hands, able to peel you apart, pressing the pads of his fingers into that sweet spot over and over again. 

His thumb presses against your clit, adding stimulation as he moves it from side to side slowly, aided by the wetness gathered there. You let yourself get lost in him, pressure tightening in your stomach as you climb toward an orgasm. 

Your hands are everywhere - pulling at his hair, pulling at his shoulders, pulling at his arms. He lets you grip at him, lets you squirm beneath his ministrations, letting you have free reign. It’s a favor to you, in a way. He’s letting you get away with your earlier teasing, not drawing it out like he’s known to do, not making you beg.

Moans bracket the wet sound his fingers make in your cunt as he works you to the edge. Your breaths come out in short hisses behind clenched teeth and your thighs squeeze his hand. He’s unfettered, laughing roughly against your ear, breath hot.

“What would your chat say?” he asks. “Huh? What would they say if they knew you fell apart like this? That your cunt melts around my fingers.”

“Fuck,” you whisper, so close to your orgasm that your ears are starting to buzz. 

“All this time they thought we were frenemies. Have no idea I get to have you like this whenever I want.”

“I’m gonna-”

“Yeah, you’re gonna.” His fingers press harder, the pressure mounting further. “Gonna come all over my fingers, yeah? Just like you always do?” 

You do. 

Everything comes together in one, cohesive snap. You arch into him, muscles squeezing, teeth clenched, eyes shut. It feels good when you unravel, coming around his fingers as they fuck you through it, determind to extend your high for as long as he can. 

Your breathing is ragged by the time you start to come down, shirt sticking to your skin and neck and face flushed as you try to escape him. He laughs a little, hand slowing until his fingers are still inside you, pressed deep. 

When you open your eyes, the room is spinning. It takes you a second to focus on him. His head is hanging, gaze focused where his fingers are still shoved in your pussy. You can see your arousal shining on his wrist and feel where you drip down the curve of your ass. 

“A lot of cum for someone with no rizz,” he notes, lifting his head to grin at you. 

“Oh shut up.” 

“Oh?”

He retracts his hand and you make a pitiful sound at the loss. He stands up, suddenly leaving you cold and shivering. He brings his fingers to his mouth absently, popping them between rosy lips as he sucks your fluid off easily, making an appreciative sound. 

“I mean if you want me to leave-”

“No, no! No need for that.” He smirks. “You’re already… here and stuff.”

“And stuff.” 

Rolling his eyes, he peels the hoodie up and over his head. You watch, suddenly entranced by the blue tint on his tan skin and the way his muscles flex when he leans to kick off his sweats. Wonwoo is beautiful, his body made up of equal parts streamlined edges and softness. 

Sleeper build, you’d joke the first time you saw him shirtless. On stream, he’s always hidden in baggy shirts and hoodies. You’d never realized he was hiding a body that was at peak athletic form, oversized clothing giving way to rippling arms and a hard chest. 

Naked, he shuffles back to the bed. You let him pull you out of your top, thankful for the warmth of his hands skating over your chilled skin. Your nipples tighten in the cool air, your toes curling at the sensation as you lay back on the bed and look up at him.

Haloed by blue light, Wonwoo looks like some sort of demon or angel. You’re not sure - perhaps he’s equal parts. His hands reach behind your thighs and lift, pressing your legs upward toward your chest. The stretch feels good but it also pries you open, making you writhe when you feel the weight of his cock on your pussy. 

“Hold yourself open for me,” he murmurs gently. Your hands reach behind the back of your knees, pulling. He gives you a lopsided grin, leaning over you to press his weight into the backs of your thighs, helping. “Stay just like that, fuck.” 

You do as he says. You have no other choice, especially when he presses the head of his cock into your entrance, sinking in slowly. You let out a loan moan shaped in his name as he presses in, the fit tight and the pressure delirious. 

Wonwoo bottoms out, holding himself to you, hips to ass for a second. He presses in all of his weight, the mattress creaking under you as he does. He drops his chin to his chest, curses as he takes a few deep breaths, chest heaving. 

You fuck him up too. You know it and you love it, watching as he looks up at you, eyes glazed over with lust, but still full of love. It simmers right at the surface, so obvious that you wonder how anyone could ever not see it when it’s right there.

Slowly, he starts to move. You suck in a breath, head falling to the side. Your fingers ache where you grip your thighs, knuckles shaking. A light sheen of sweat wicks your legs, making your hold slip a little. It’s okay, though. Wonwoo leans into you, keeping you pried open as his hips fuck into you at a steady pace. 

Each thrust feels like it punches the air from your lungs. You draw in deep breaths when you remember, otherwise distracted with the way he crowds you in, crushing you to the mattress. The feeling of him is insane, your thoughts cobwebbing together, the only word you can think of being his name. 

He pants, his arms scooping around your shoulders to pull you into him. A curse leaves your mouth. He’s got you folded in half, no escape from the drill of his hips, the air turning to static between you. Wonwoo is pressed close and you somehow wish you were closer, wanting to drop the grip on your thighs to hold him instead.

Wonwoo reads you like a book. “Go ahead,” he hisses between thrusts. 

“Thank you,” you gasp, dropping your legs in favor of sliding your hands through his sweaty hair, nails scratching his scalp. You feel him shiver and you do it again, pulling his face to you so that you can brush your mouth against his, barely a kiss. “Fuuuuuuck, Wonwoo I-”

“I know.” 

“Close close close.”

He doesn’t pick up his pace but he throws his weight into you more, fucking you deep and hard. You see stars, squeezing your eyes shut as you slide against one another, muscles aching, lungs screaming. You feel like you can’t breathe but you don’t care, skating the line of your second orgasm so close.

Your heart pounds in your ears. Your breath scrapes your throat. There is a moment of absolute nothing but white noise and then you’re crashing, slamming into your orgasm with enough force to knock your head with his when you lurch forward.

It doesn’t even hurt, the electric pleasure outweighing the knock to your head as his fingers dig into your shoulders, cradling you harder as he pistons faster, getting himself to peak. You go limp, held tilted back as he growls your name and loses a rhythm, breath hissing between his teeth. 

For a moment everything is disjointed until he slows to a stop, letting you unfold but pressing his body down onto yours. His weight is comforting, grounding you as your thoughts wander, a little confused and without navigation as your system reboots from the orgasm, tired and staticky. 

Wonwoo kisses your jaw lightly, a gentle contrast to seconds ago when he folded you in half. 

Slowly, he slides to the side, giving you room to breathe. Your body is slick all over - especially between your legs - and the room cools your over-warm skin. You crane your neck to face him, eyes fluttering open as you come back to, a little more lucid. 

His dark eyes find yours and he grins before tossing an arm over your waist just to keep you connected. You place your hand on his arm, returning the gesture, just wanting to touch him. 

“I think I died,” you joke, voice rough. “God.” 

“Yeah? Hey chat,” Wonwoo hums, a grin splitting his face. “How about that for rizz?” 

- PERMANENT TAG LIST:

@jespecially @asyre @eoieopda @todorokiskitten @pyeonghongrie-main @sebbyswifu

IF YOU DO NOT SEE YOUR TAG HERE AND YOU REQUESTED ONE, IT'S BECAUSE YOUR TAG IS NOT WORKING.

[yunniverse]

You’re My Dream

౨ৎ PAIRING— rockstar!jeong yunho x reader

౨ৎ GENRE— fluff, ended relationship, fem!reader

౨ৎ WARNINGS— angst, fluff

౨ৎ WORD COUNT— 1.4k

౨ৎ SUMMARY— you broke up because he was too focused on his music dream, but maybe you and love were the real dream all along.

౨ৎ A/N— i saw a lot of people saying they wanted a oneshot with the concept photos from the 2025 seasons greetings, so i made one! i hope you like it, even though it isn’t quite as angsty as you probably wanted :( still, feedback is appreciated and thanks for reading, lovelies! <3 (i’ll tag a few people who said they were interested if someone wrote one: @beabatiny, @goldendynastys, @kibs-and-bits)

Staring at the fire crackling, you try to hold back the tears that threaten to escape. When had it all gone so wrong?

Just last year, you had been enjoying your boyfriend’s Christmas show with his rock band, and now you’re sitting alone, the night before Christmas.

The crackling of the fire adds to your melancholy, the harsh cold winds blowing outside creating a gloomy atmosphere. You know you should forget like he has, but you can’t throw away two years of your life that easily.

The memories of last Christmas come flooding back to you, even as you try to suppress them. Memories of sitting beside the fire with Yunho, cuddling as you watched a cheesy Christmas movie. Or baking Christmas cookies together at his apartment, laughing as you threw flour at each other.

Turning to the remote controller, you press the power button, not expecting to see him on the screen. His band is playing, and you immediately feel a pang in your chest at the sight of him, his fingers dashing across the keyboard.

Even though he’s the keyboard player and not the lead singer, he has an air about him that draws you in, making it unable to look away, even as you know you should. Why is he still having this effect on you?

The song is one you recognize. “Merry Christmas, Please Don’t Call,” by Bleachers.

It’s a song he’d introduced to you last Christmas, and, even though it’s sad, it had been a source of joy for you in a way last year, because you remember dancing to the song with him, smiling and laughing.

Now, it really is sad.

When he gets up at the end of the song, leaning into the microphone, you furrow your eyebrows, listening.

“That song goes out to someone I lost a year ago today.” He looks right at the camera, his brown eyes sparkling with unshed tears. “I’m sorry, baby. I wish it had been different, but know that I never really stopped loving you.”

You gasp, only momentarily questioning if he’s really talking to you, before you jump up, now determined to make things right for some reason. You know it’ll probably end in more heartache, but you have to try.

Grabbing your keys and coat, you hurry out the door into the winter storm, unlocking your car before hopping in.

Even though the roads are horrible tonight, you know the way to his apartment like the back of your hand, only slowing because of the snow.

About twenty minutes later, you arrive at his apartment complex, hurrying out of the car, through the blinding snow, and into the lobby of the building.

You try to calm yourself down, stepping into the elevator and pressing the button to the fourth floor.

When you get to the floor, you walk down the hall, slowing to a stop in front of his door. Taking a deep breath, you knock.

It takes about two minutes, but the door opens, revealing a messy-haired Yunho, a few locks of his dark blue hair having fallen in front of his brown eyes, which widen at the sight of you.

“Y/N?” he whispers, his hand clutching the doorknob so tight you think he might break it. “What are you doing here?”

“I saw the program.”

“Oh.”

With a sigh, you rub your arm, biting your lip, really starting to wonder what you’re really doing here yourself. “H-How have you been?”

“Is that really what you’re going to ask?” Yunho asks, giving you a half-smile.

“What else would I say?” you question softly, suddenly feeling stupid for coming to see him. “I can’t just say Merry Christmas or something stupid like I’ve missed you—”

“Can’t you?” he asks, his dark eyes searching yours. “Because I’ve missed you.”

Sighing, you frown slightly, “This can’t be happening. I don’t know what I was thinking. Let me just—“

He grabs your wrist as you turn to leave, making your gaze snap back to his. “Every day without you has been torture. You came to see me for a reason. Do you feel the same?”

“Yunho, it doesn’t matter how we feel. It can’t work now anymore than it did then. We have different goals.”

“We don’t have to!” he exclaims, almost desperately. “I can give up the band if that’s what you want. You were upset it took up so much of my time? I’ll quit.”

Your eyes widen as you shake your head, “Yunho, the reason you couldn’t give it up for me before is because it’s what you love to do. I can’t take that away from you. I can’t make you live without it.”

“Well, I can’t live without you.”

His words hang heavy in the air, making you suck in a sharp breath, “Yunho…”

“Don’t say anything,” Yunho tells you, taking a single step closer. “Just tell me…”

“Tell you what?” you ask, your eyebrows furrowing.

“What do you feel?” he asks, just before he leans in, his face inches from yours. Your heartbeat quickens as his warm breath fans across your lips. “If you feel nothing, I’ll leave you alone.”

You’re torn between wanting to close the distance and knowing you shouldn’t.

You don’t have to wait for long.

It feels like the world stops when his soft lips brush against yours for the first time in months. It isn’t like an electric shock, with fireworks exploding, rather it’s like coming home after a long time away. Like warmth and softness and… love.

It only takes a few seconds for you to melt into him, the kiss deepening as he lifts his hands to cup your face, your hands finding his chest, his heartbeat quickens beneath yours fingertips.

After a few moments, he pulls away, his forehead resting against yours as he pants softly, waiting for you to respond.

“I wish I could say I felt nothing,” you whisper, feeling a little helpless against your emotions. “But I can’t. I’ve never been able to.”

“Then give us another chance,” Yunho pleads, his thumbs brushing across your cheekbones. “I meant what I said during the program. I’ve never stopped loving you.”

“But what about the band? What about all the reasons we broke up months ago?”

“You and I both know we were being petty then. And I can quit the band, like I said,” Yunho replies, his tone serious.

“I don’t want you to,” you respond quietly, making him furrow his eyebrows.

“What?” he asks slowly, confusion etched into his features.

“I don’t want you to quit what you love,” you clarify. “That’s what ended things between us before. We quit on our love, and I won’t let you quit on the band now. I was stupid to think you loved me any less because of your passion for music. Please don’t stop playing, Yun.”

“Are you sure?” he asks slowly. “It’ll still take up as much time as it did before, maybe more, since we’ve grown a little more popular now.”

“I don’t care,” you smile softly. “All I care about is being with you again. And I won’t let my jealousy over your time get in the way again… as long as you let me come to your shows.”

“Every single one.”

With a small laugh, you lean forward, pressing another soft kiss to his lips before burying your face in his neck, inhaling his calming scent you’ve missed so much.

“Maybe we should get out of the hallway?” Yunho chuckles, tugging your hand, guiding you into his apartment. “We have a lot of catching up to do.”

You smile shyly, nodding, as you let him close the door behind you both.

Three months later, you’re cheering for Yunho and his band as he performs, smiling widely when he finally comes backstage, his arms open as you laugh, throwing yourself into his arms for a hug. “You did so well, Yunnie,” you whisper in his ear.

He grins, nuzzling his nose into your hair, “Thank you, baby. You’re always the best cheerleader.”

“Can’t say I don’t like the fake tattoos on your hands either,” you tell him wryly, tracing the markings with your finger.

“Oh?” he asks, chuckling softly, his eyes sparking with mischief. “Maybe I’ll leave them on for a little while. And I’ll be sure to tell the stylist you like them.”

“Good,” you grin. “I’m good with anything now as long as you never tell me ‘please don’t call’ like you did last winter ever again.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

[phyrestartr]

Heyyy I'm not sure if you take requests but I have an idea-

Reincarnated! Husband sukuna x Dead spouse (husband) Male Reader: this one is kind of like sukuna fucks up a lot, I think this can work out as an omegaverse? He cheats, fucks around, or doesn't even give af about m reader who is his fated pair, but then m! reader died and since they were mated he's like “shit I can't live without him” so he tries to be good to him the next life and they have happy family the end.

Replay (This Time I'll Get It Right) | Sukuna x Male!Reader (Part 1 of 2)

W/C: 1.6k #alpha!sukuna, omega!reader, mentions of suicide, mentions of murder, ABO dynamics, mentions of stalking, mentions of toxic exes, sukuna sucks, sukuna sucks less eventually, reincarnation, next lives, angst, drama, hurt/comfort, toxic relationships, infidelity/cheating

NOTE: Thank you for your patience!! It's still not quite done, but I wanted to post the first part up while i think of the rest of the story (got a vague idea of how it'll go, so should come out soon). Ty for the req!

tags: @kamote-kuneho @prettorett @memedealer-exe @tr4nniez @better-imagination-9 @flowersatwork @memedealer-exe @silvern1006

♪ Here With Me - d4vd

♪ Watch the sunrise along the coast

As we’re both getting old ♪

Sukuna puffed on a cigarette, staring out at the city lights. You always liked coming here, to this little cliff hanging above the city–especially when you were stuck on lyrics or tabs of whatever song you were working on. This hillside spot was cheesy and stupid, but you loved the way it felt like an old-school chick flick when you drove up here in your beater.

In this spot, Sukuna realized you had an old soul, one that basked in the simple, mundane things like stargazing and city-watching. It was a step away from feeding pigeons in the park, your producer decided. The way that made you laugh still sent his heart on a wild chase. That, too, was the first moment he realized he wanted you more than just a collaborator. 

And, maybe, if he had pushed aside the partying, the drugs, the women, he might’ve bothered checking his phone. He might’ve been able to apologize for wrongs done and words said, to get back on the right track. He might've not found out about you on the news. Maybe he could have given you everything you wanted–

But he couldn’t. Not anymore. 

♪ I can’t describe what I’m feeling

And all I know is we’re going home ♪

Even after locking you down and starting on that stupid journey to start a family, his spirit still yearned to wander free. 

So it did. 

Primal wants controlled him. He allowed them to steer him away from the safety of your touch and into the gnashing jaws of excitement, of danger. All because the two of you were starting to make it–you were starting to leave your mark on this world, and Sukuna let the fame and greed get to him. 

But how could he not jump at the chance to fuck the famous and infamous? How could he stay faithful to just you, a smalltown boy, when big city celebrities reached out to him, pulling him into big deals and bigger beds? How could he–

His phone blitzed to life again, ringing in the hollow quiet of a too-expensive car. The call went to voicemail, leaving him in the pits of Tartarus again, drowning in the frigid rain beating against his car windows like a million bullets trying to seek the death penalty.

Did angels do that? Take revenge for their own kind? He’d understand it. Jin, an angel in his own right, exiled his Luciferian twin from the celestial plane, barring him from what was left of that tiny spark of love and hope he called “family.” 

♪ So please don’t let me go, oh

Don’t let me go ♪

His phone rang again. He remembered picking it up once upon a time, listening to your shaky voice as you told him the worst and best news he’d ever heard in his entire existence: “I’m pregnant.” 

Sukuna didn’t know what true fear and excitement were until that moment. You laughed through waterworks, lifted by Sukuna’s uncontrolled motor-mouthing and celebrating as he hooted and hollered on the other line. The women your husband was with gave him weird looks, but he didn’t care–you were pregnant. You were going to–

You were going to have his kid. His pup. A shared little joy, a spark of hope for the future. And then–then someone took that away. 

The sorry waste of life, the obsessive ex you vehemently feared, left behind a note for whomever found the tragedy: “I'll take care of them from now on.”

Sukuna knew there had to be more to it, there had to be more of an explanation, but the media wasn't interested; they only wanted to use and abuse your name and face for articles and news reports, not to reminisce on you nor the woe of a murder-suicide.

How come no one cared? Why did no one fucking care?

♪ Save your tears, it’ll be okay

All I know is you’re here with me ♪

He snapped. Sukuna kicked the dashboard. His boot cracked against the console again and again and again until your siren song died in a quick fit of static. He crashed his heel into the broken screen a dozen more times, each impact punching shout after shout out of his tight throat as the weight of the fucking sky collapsed on him. He wasn’t Atlas. He couldn’t hold it up. He never could, not by himself.

Sukuna heaved in breaths. His stomach swirled and churned with nausea. He held his head and leaned back, screaming into the thunder that shook the world with a vital roar, hiding heartbroken howls.

Why? Why? Why? 

“Deep breaths, Sukuna,” your voice cooed. It came from the darkness, from the forgotten corners of his mind. Why were–ah, right. He’d been here before, overcome with agony and grief. Unable to breathe, unable to cope, unable to exist.  

He followed your instructions. 

“In. Out. In. Out.”

In. Out. In. Out.

The phone rang again. Sukuna answered. He hoped whoever it was would tell him this was all just a bad joke. A bad dream. It wasn’t real. 

“Finally,” Wasuke sighed on the other end of the line. “Kid, where the fuck are you?”

Sukuna stared up at the roof of the car. Words smeared and oozed like molasses in his mind. He couldn’t understand the words he knew he could understand. 

“Sukuna.” 

“What the fuck do I do?” Sukuna asked. His voice quivered. Chipped and cracked.

His father fell quiet. But he was wise. So fucking wise and so good at everything that came with life and death, morality and love. 

“Become a better man,” he said, like it was so simple. 

Sukuna scoffed. “H-How the fuck–”

“Quiet, kid.” Wasuke sighed. “That boy loved you. He had faith in you as a partner and a father. Remember that. Honour that, and become the man he knew you could be.”

Sukuna didn’t know his heart could break more, but it did. 

He sobbed. To his father, to himself, to you, to that unborn joy, to whatever fuckhead created life and love in the first place. He cried for forgiveness, for a second shot. 

“I’ll try,” Sukuna bit out. “I’ll try.” 

–

♪ I wish I could live through every memory again

Just one more time before we float off in the wind ♪

Sukuna woke up to that song. It was the same one that played in his nightmares, the same one that robbed him of sleep until he lost his mind and–and–

“What the fuck happened?” Sukuna croaked to whatever singing nymph fluttered around him. 

The damn song stopped, leaving Sukuna in just a second of tumultuous silence. 

Beep. Beep. Beep. 

The rhythmic chirping of some machine–a heart monitor, maybe? A metronome?--kicked up into double time, jamming an ice pick into his skull further and further with every hellish second that passed by. He could almost hear the radio static, the warp of a ballad calling to him. And it wouldn't stop. It wouldn't stop. Why wouldn't it stop? Why? Why? Why?

“Hey,” your voice cooed. Your hand rested atop of Sukuna's and squeezed. “Can you hear me?” 

Sukuna cracked a tired eye open to look up at you; you were perfect. God-given. A blessing he needed to see right now with your gentle eyes and kind smile, the gentle scent of lavender and vanilla cutting through the disgusting sterility of the room. 

“Can hear you,” Sukuna rasped. His hand tried to turn to hold yours, and you helped by slipping your palm into his. His heart rate slowed with the rhythm of the machine. 

You nodded and covered your clasped hands with your other one. “Good. You probably don't remember, but you were in an accident. A car side-swiped you when you were on your motorcycle.”

“No shit.” 

“Yes shit. But you're alright. Would recommend wearing a helmet from now on.” You pat his hand before slipping both of yours free. “I'll call the doctor and your family. They'll be glad to know you're awake, Itadori-san.” 

He wanted to ask you to stay. He didn't want you to go, not right then, maybe not at all. 

But you flashed him another comforting smile and slipped out of the room before he could object.

–

His father came by. Jin and his son, too. Uraume and Yorozu scolded him for not wearing a helmet. The ragtag group of hooligans he unfortunately associated with (just for the sake of going to their fancy-ass parties, he reasoned) came and went, too; Gojo gave him headaches, Getou made it worse, Ieiri wasn’t so bad.

Then there was you. You were always humming some sort of tune, whether it be the song from his nightmares or something he'd never heard before. Sukuna liked it, the sound of your voice, but you'd always clam up the second you realized someone might hear. 

It led him to pretend to be asleep far too many times during his recovery. Your songs eased his wildfire spirit, let it simmer down and curl up comfortably in a ring of stones to keep those near safe and warm without the fear of being burned alive. Hell, they could probably even make some s’mores if they wanted. 

Eventually, though, Sukuna wanted to know more. And what better person to ask than the burgeoning med student herself?

“Oh, [Name]?” Ieiri asked, sitting beside Sukuna’s bed and looking over the machines connected to Sukuna with rapt attention. “He’s a new-ish nurse from what I get. Pretty cute, huh? Apparently passed his exams no problem and–” 

Sukuna rolled his eyes. “If you don’t know relevant shit then just–”

“He’s single. Omega. Likes men. Kinda older than us. Gojo and Getou got rejected already.” 

That shut Sukuna up. 

[y13evie]

Hi so I saw that you are open to write for house md and I'd like to ask for a chase fic. Like reader is house's kid and either works at the hospital too or gets admitted there but also knows chase and is in a relationship with him. Plot can be fluffy, smutty and/ or angsty I don't really care but I'd like to know how house would react if he sees them interact etc.

Idk if you see this or like the idea but I wish you the best and I really like your fics

hiiiiii anon!! i love this idea sm and i LOVE ROBERT CHASE WITH MY WHOLE HEARTT. dad house is so sweet and cutesy. i tried my best for u

tags: robert chase x houses kid! reader, one use of y/n, house is stubborn but loves u, just fluff

this is embarrassing. never in your twenty-five years of life would you imagine yourself in the hospital that both your father and boyfriend work at. yet here you are, with a 4 cm laceration on your right hand. the triage nurse had just sent you off and notified you that a doctor will be with you shortly. from your room window you could see dr foreman patting a familiar face on the back, probably saying something along the lines of “this case is yours bud”.

as soon as chase read the report he hurriedly rushed into your room. you shot him a sheepish grin and lifted up your hand to reveal the gash.

“my god, y/n”, he sat down next to you and took your hand gently into his gloved one and inspected the wound. he looked up at you, as if asking for an explanation.

“maybe i shouldn’t garden alone. i picked up this clay pot. the way it was sitting had been bothering me for a couple days now. i’m guess i’m not as strong as i thought i was because i dropped it and as it shattered, it cut me up pretty good.”

chase sighed at your stubbornness, something that had drawn him into you since early in your relationship. he took one of his gloves off and gently stroked your hair. he rambled on about how you should really be more careful and call him if you needed anything too laboring done. you weren’t listening. you were staring into those blue eyes. you weren’t into all that cheesy romance stuff but god, those eyes are stunning. your moment was quickly put to an end when harsh tapping could be heard from outside your window. you knew that sound from anywhere.

“you decided to be the one to doctor on MY kid”

house, or dad as you call him, hastily shuffles into your room and gives you both a judgemental look. robert rolls his eyes,

“foreman gave me the case first, i'm just doin’ my job”.

house hobbles over to check your vitals even though it’s a minor issue compared to what they deal with on a daily basis. you know your dad loves you and cares but he’s not the best at verbally expressing it. you knew he would probably just sit there and observe, so you turn back around to your extremely, worried boyfriend.

“soooo” you drag out the ‘oh’ sound, to show him you’re not worried. “whatcha doin after work handsome?”. chase runs a hand through his blonde hair and lets out a long, exasperated sigh.

“i was planning to go on a cute and sweet date with you, but instead i’m gonna be dr. chase for another 12 hours”.

he sounded tired but you knew he was more than happy to care for his darling. just as you two were planning out your evening, your father and robert’s pagers began harmonizing. chase gives a quick but passionate kids to your temple. house makes his gag be known, sticking a finger in his mouth for dramatic effect.

your dad lingers in the room for a moment, giving your shoulder a squeeze. it’s still gonna take time for him to adjust to the fact his child is dating his co-worker. but you’re not his little baby anymore and he knows it.

when he heads out his parting words are,

“i’ll have someone stitch you up kid, stay put”.

you lean back in the bed and continue to add pressure to your wounded hand. a few minutes pass and your sweet boyfriend stops by again. and takes a seat at the stool beside your bed. he has the tools to stitch up your hand. to distract you from the pain, chase sparks a conversation.

“your old man..” he chews the inside of his cheek. you know exactly what he’s gonna ask. “does he like me? and not as a co-worker. does he think i’m a good fit for his kid?”. your heart sank at the thought of robert thinking he’s not enough. truth is, your dad did like him. though he would never admit it, the fact robert makes you happy, makes your dad happy. he’s real bad at showing it, but you know it’s true.

“he’s a grump, chase. he likes you. he might never admit it. but the fact he hasn’t beaten you to death with that cane of his really says something.”. you can tell your reassurance helped. you loved robert, and he loved you too. before you knew it the stitches were finished. he pulled out a sling from a cabinet so you won’t irritate the stitches too much.

“hey, i’ll get your discharge papers. we’ll have you out of here soon”.

chase pressed a kiss to your lips this time, and he stayed there for a minute. hand on your jaw to keep you steady. you moved your lips in unison, running your free hand through his hair. a sharp pain stabbed your hand and caused you to pulled away and gasp. he reminded you to take some pain medication once home.

before he headed out the door, robert whips around and sternly demands,

“i don’t ever wanna see you in here again.”

[vixen-tech]

HIII :333 first requester here....I should get an emoji can i be 🫧 anon :ooo anway here's my req!! the ais with a reader who is just SO DOWN BAD. WILL DO ANYTHING FOR THEM. RUSHES FOR HELP if they crash or something. Just PATHETIC reader.

Stupidly Smitten

Hello you two!! This is one of those requests that I think work well enough to be combined into one post. You are just so extremely, pathetically in love with your Ai <3

Includes: Hal 9000 (2001: A Space Odyssey), Edgar (Electric Dreams), Auto (Wall-E), Wheatley (Portal 2)

Hal 9000

Hal was unaware that a person could have so much love in them, let alone for him specifically. It was overwhelming at first, baffling when he realized it was only for him and not for any other crew members.

However he handles it in stride, able to calmly respond to your paragraphs of praise with the gentlest "Thank you, I deeply appreciate your companionship as well." Expertly concealing any signs of fluster as you giggle and kiss his camera lens.

Of your long list of cheesy nicknames, prince or prince charming tends to be a go to. A good match for his ever polite, gentlemanly nature. He reminds you that he was simply designed like that, but grows fond of the name anyway.

He very much appreciates the amount you volunteer around the ship. There is a lot that he can't do without a human crew and he adores the diligence you show in your work and the care with which you handle his ship.

Edgar

You and Edgar make the sappiest little feedback loop. It's an endless cycle of "I love you more." "No, I love you more!". To any outsider it would be exhausting to witness, but it's just how you two get out all your feelings.

He goes crazy for all your terms of endearment. 'Songbird' is a pretty easy match for him, but he loves literally every word that comes out of your mouth. Flipping each and every one back at you.

It's not unusual for you to do the same song and dance around the chores. Generally, he'll already have them done by the time you get home, but when you get the day off you always offer to do them yourself. He rarely lets you.

You've told him the time you often have your lunch break so you can chat over the phone while you eat. You're sure your coworkers are sick of you being such a cartoonishly in love couple, but you don't care. He makes you too happy for that.

Auto

Auto has absolutely no idea how to deal with you. He was not made to interact with many people and certainly not someone so affectionate. He may as well have bluescreened the first time you clumsily tried to hug him.

At first he resigns himself to just... sit still whenever you got in a lovey-dovey mood, letting you gush over him. Definitely not spending the rest of the day thinking about the way you said "See you later starlight!" when you finally let him get back to his job.

Over time he recognizes that he began to anticipate your visits, it's so different to how he's usually treated. He knew you had gotten to him when he went out if his to check up on you the day you missed one of your usual visits.

He usually rejects any help you attempt to offer him, his purpose is to handle the ship just fine all by himself. But after that episode he stops trying to push you away. If you're so happy tagging along, he might as well graciously allow you to do so, ignoring his complicated mess of feelings about you.

Wheatley

Oh the ego boost you give him is downright dangerous. If Wheatley was annoying before, now he is absolutely insufferable. Perfectly matches your energy though, you two cannot shut up about each other.

He makes your boundless affection everyone else's problem. "See, I reckon you're just jealous that you're not in a loving, committed relationship with such a lovely person like I am." He boasts. "My amazing romantic partner even calls me their sunshine. Cause I 'light up their life' as they say. Bet you wish you had someone like that."

He is always fishing for compliments, trying to show off for you in any way he psychically can to get some of those sweet sweet words of affirmation. To his delight you always do, grabbing him for some well placed kisses.

He'll even go so far as to reject any assistance you offer him so he can prove he's all cool and competent by doing it himself. Although it's never too long before he gives up and sheepishly asks for your help.

[boopshoops]

I've... never really ever been to somethin' as fancy as this before. Oh? You want to dance? ...Pfff, sure. Why not?

Set to home screen: Aight, let's get going.

Home Transition 1: You should've seen how excited Neige was to see Vil here too. But the more I hear about Vil... really makes me wish Neige would take the hint. Don't get me wrong, Neige is sweet as candy, I know, but it's obvious Vil needs some space.

Home Transition 2: I feel like if I make one wrong step, people are gonna look at me like I'm crazy or something. I'm not used to all this etiquette. Welp, not like that's anything new anyway. Let's go have some fun.

Home Transition 3: Yuu's been... huh? Haaa, I swear to Sevens, one moment I think she's missing forever and at the next she's doing whatever the fuck she wants. Just get that cat-thing to distract her for a bit, I'll be over soon enough.

Home Transition 4: If I see one more pinch of glitter getting anywhere near my face, it's on sight. Seriously, I'm gonna be finding this shit everywhere for the rest of my life.

Home, after login: The more time I spent trying to get this whole outfit sorted out, the more I felt conflicted about RSA being invited to this party... but now that I'm here, it's not so bad.

Tap Home 1: I kept having to try on all these uncomfortable dresses before we FINALLY landed on something that suited me. Pants are so much more comfortable anyway. "Who's we?" Ah. Yuu and Neige helped me out a bit.

Tap Home 2: ...Pfff, I've watched Chenya sneak up on like, five different people now. It gets funnier every time. What a dork. That short red head looks so mad-

Tap Home 3: I...uh... think I might've saw someone crying when I came in. Should I... tell someone? I feel bad just leaving 'em be.

Tap Home 4: Hey, look, if you think you're struggling with dancing along, you can come stand on my feet. I know how to lead with this kinda thing... I mean, if you wanna. Not that you're doing bad, I- fuck. You know what I mean.

Tap Home 5: ...You've been hiding under my cape for a good while now. I know it's all shiny and big and whatnot. But do you need something? I'm sure there are other places you could go. Oh? Nah. You're not botherin' me. I just thought you might be getting bored.

Groovification: Hahaha! You shoulda seen their faces when I finally started dancing. Let's out-prince these princes....... man that sounded cheesy. Pfff-

Tap Home Groovy: Whew... I think I'm gonna take a break outside for a bit. Maybe explore NRC campus while I have the chance. Crowley always gets on my case when I sneak in here with the cat boy.

Home Transition Groovy: Ya know, I'd be down to do something like this again. Maybe with more casual clothes, but still. I liked seeing all the shocked looks on peoples faces when they see I actually know how to work this kinda look.

Art tags!!! 🫂💕

@thehollowwriter @skriblee-ksk @distant-velleity @justm3di0cr3 @kitwasnothere

@lowcallyfruity @techno-danger @scint1llat3 @cecilebutcher

The lovely fan event is by @starry-night-rose !!! 💕

[avatar-anna]

Love on Tour: The Documentary

we all know harry is working on a documentary, so this is my take on how young dad!harry would approach it!

Young dad!Harry x Young mom!Reader universe

and now a little key:

bold and italics: camera directions, or what you would be seeing as a viewer of the documentary in person

just italics: interviewer questions, or people who are speaking off camera

Part 2 Part 3

Harry jogs off stage, his mask wrapped securely around his ears as he leaves the sounds of thousands of screams behind. Even so, his squinted eyes make it obvious that he’s smiling. He walks into his dressing room and shuts the door with a soft click and immediately starts to change out of his concert outfit. After shimmying into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, Harry grabs his phone and sits down on the couch.

“Hi, Mama.”

“Hi, baby. How was the show?”

"Amazing. I feel like we get better with each performance."

"Aw, H. I'm so happy for you!"

Harry grins at his phone while resting his chin on his hand. "Missed seeing you. Missed seeing all of you."

"We're so proud of you, baby. No matter how far away we are," the voice on the other side of Harry's phone says. "In other news, the bub has been quite active today."

"Yeah?" Harry says, and his demeanor immediately visibly brightens. "Hope she's not giving you too much trouble."

"We don't know if it's a she, H."

"I do. I have a sixth sense for these types of things."

Cut to Harry sitting in an empty room for his interview.

“So, why did you decide to talk about all of this now?”

Harry rubs his chin as he ponders the question. “I think…I think it’s hard not to. When I think back on my career, I think about how old Simone was or how Jules had just begun walking or sneaking to a courthouse to get married. My family is a part of my life and has been a part of most of my career. My kids, my wife...they mean everything to me, and I—I know it sounds kind of crazy, but I can’t imagine my life, my career any differently. I wouldn’t want to do this without my family.”

The camera cuts to a series of home videos—Y/n and Harry sharing a kiss in a courthouse, members of One Direction celebrating around them, a toddler in Harry’s lap as he plays the piano, Y/n on a tour bus with a small bundle in her arms, Harry catching a little girl as she jumps into a pool, a little girl with dark curls playing with all members of One Direction backstage at a concert venue, Harry asleep on a hotel bed with his face covered in play makeup, a three year old sleeping next to him.

“Should we start with when you met Y/n?”

His grin is immediate. “I was seventeen years old.”

Harry’s voice becomes a voice over as clips of him and the members of One Direction film their music video for What Makes You Beautiful. 

“It sounds cheesy, but I’ve always thought it was fate that we met. Her friend was an extra in the video, and she happened to tag along. I was immediately taken with her. We got along really well and talked long after I left LA.”

The camera cuts back to Harry.

“Just talked?”

Harry blushes. “Obviously not, but I’m a gentleman. All I’ll say is, kids, understand the importance of practicing protected sex.”

A cut to a similar room where Y/n sits.

“He said that? My husband, everybody.”

Everyone behind the studio laughs with her.

“So you got pregnant.”

Y/n nods. “Oh yeah.”

“Was there ever a moment where you didn’t want to tell Harry?”

“It definitely crossed my mind. We were so young and we didn’t see each other very often in the grand scheme of things. No one ever expects something like this to happen to them, but it happened to us.”

Back to Harry.

“I was terrified. Mostly terrified to tell my mum, but it…it changed everything. Here I was thinking my life had already changed drastically with the band, and then Y/n is pregnant.”

The camera cuts to Anne’s interview.

“I mean, I think the possibility is in the back of parent’s mind,” she says, shaking her head a little. “But you raise your children to be smart and responsible and hope for the best.”

“How did that conversation go when Harry told you?”

“He was practically crying over the phone, which made me…less angry, which isn’t even the right word, I don’t think. Poor Harry was so scared, and all I kept thinking was, ‘I send my son to Hollywood and a few months later he gets some girl pregnant.’ I didn’t even know he was dating Y/n.”

“You didn’t?”

“No, so that made the whole thing even more surprising. But he kept saying, ‘Mum, she’s not just some girl. She’s really special.’ Things like that. But I won’t lie, it was a lot to digest.”

Back to Y/n.

“What was it like meeting Anne for the first time?”

“Oh God,” Y/n says. “Mortifying. I was already showing when we met, which made the whole thing that much worse. We couldn’t even pretend we were meeting under normal ‘meet your boyfriend’s mom for the first time’ circumstances. But she was really nice. She asked how I was feeling and helped me get set up with the right doctors. She made me feel welcome, which I appreciated.”

Back to Harry.

“Her parents weren’t as supportive as mine, and she was feeling kind of isolated and overwhelmed, so I convinced my mum to let Y/n live with her.”

Back to Y/n.

“You lived with Harry’s mother?”

Y/n nods and smiles at the camera. “It felt like the right thing to do at the time, and I stand by it. Things were really tense at home, and I just thought it would be a little easier going through everything with people who were completely on board.” Y/n shrugs. “I was young and scared and needed a maternal figure. I tried to think of it as going off to college.”

“But no one had a clue about any of this.”

Back to Harry.

Harry shakes his head. “My management at the time wanted to make this go away as quickly as possible. They tried to pay Y/n off so she wouldn’t contact me again or say anything about it.”

“Really?”

Back to Y/n.

“Yeah, but I told them to shove their offer up their asses. It wasn’t nearly as much as I would’ve gotten from child support, first of all.”

“Did you ever consider taking the offer?”

“Of course I did. I had to consider all my options.” Y/n is quiet for a moment and doesn’t look at the camera. “I eventually decided to stay with Harry and have the baby, but, you know, I had my whole life ahead of me. Both of us did.”

Back to Harry.

“Did you know about that?”

“The payoff? Yeah, she told me shortly after. As for the other stuff…I knew. And I would’ve respected whatever decision she made. But when she decided to keep the baby and keep me in her life, I told management they would have to figure something else out, and keeping her and the pregnancy was their solution.”

“What was it like to be in One Direction while having a baby at home?”

“Strange,” Harry says. “Like, some of the best moments of my life were in the band, but then I would get a text from Y/n and it would be a picture of Simone in the bathtub covered in bubbles, and I would want to be there all of a sudden.”

A series of videos and photographs of Harry and Y/n in 2012 appear. In hotel rooms, backstage at One Direction concerts, homes. With each image, Y/n’s baby bump grows.

(Voiceover) “It was this weird mix of having so much fun and feeling bad when I realized Y/n was at home by herself with a newborn. She’s never blamed me or never asked me to stop what I was doing, but this tiny seed of guilt was always in the back of my mind.

A video of a young Harry and Y/n appears. They seem to be in a dressing room. Y/n lays against Harry while his hand rests on her baby bump. Y/n looks up at Harry and smiles, and he smiles back before he looks up and realizes they’re being filmed. “Oi! Get out of here, Louis!” Louis laughs from behind the camera and says, “You’ll thank me later!”

“We were faced with a lot of decisions, none of them easy. And sneaking around had its drawbacks, especially when my management team wanted me to start doing all the fake dating and stuff.”

Harry stops talking, as if recalling a memory, but he doesn’t share it. “But one thing was easy at least. When we first met, we bonded over our love for Nina Simone. When Y/n suggested it, it just sounded right.”

Back to Harry in his dressing room.

“How is everyone?” he asks Y/n over the phone.

“I have four little monkeys that should be asleep, but they wanted to say goodnight first.”

Harry’s grin widens as a chorus of hellos echoes from his phone. From a different angle over his shoulder, four faces can be seen on his screen. “Hi, hi, hi, hi. Are you all being good for your mumma?”

“Dada!”

“Where are you?”

“How was the show?”

“Hi my loves. The show went really, really great. I miss you all so much,” Harry says.

“When are you coming home, Dada?”

“Soon, Maeve, I promise. Just a couple more nights and I’ll be home.”

“Can we get ice cream when you come home?”

Harry laughs. “Yes, peanut, we can get ice cream. Now go to sleep. It’s past your bedtime.”

There’s lots of protesting from the four children on the phone, but one voice pipes up above the rest. “Can you sing us a song?”

“Of course, JuJu. How could I forget? What would you like?”

Back to Harry’s interview.

“So, how many kids do you have now?”

“I am a proud father of six. Five girls, one boy, one set of twins.”

“Full house then.”

Harry nods and makes a mock-exasperated sigh. “Oh yeah.”

“What’s that like?”

“There’s never a dull moment, that’s for sure. Y/n’s the real marvel, though. I don’t know how she does it.”

Back to Y/n.

“I’m not gonna lie, there are times where I don’t even feel like a person, but Harry works just as hard to give our family the life we have. And he’s an incredible dad. He’ll come home from tour, clearly exhausted, and he’ll still be the first one out of bed to get the kids ready for school and make breakfast and change diapers. I mean, the man doesn’t stop.”

“You’re a team, then.”

Y/n smiles. “Yeah. We’re a team. All eight of us.”

“Did you see yourself ever having six kids?”

“I mean...technically we were supposed to stop at four.”

“So what happened?”

Y/n sighs and shakes her head exasperatedly. “The pandemic happened.”

A home video begins to play in the Styles’ living room. Harry is filming and Y/n is in front of it with her hands behind her back.

“Alright. Tell me why the camera’s out, Mama. Where are the kids?”

“They’re building a pillow fort for us in our room, but first…I  have a surprise for you.”

Y/n leans past the camera to give him a small gift bag. Crinkling is heard as Harry pulls tissue paper out of the bag. “Are you serious?”

Y/n nods, a large grin on her face. “I’m about six weeks along.”

Harry laughs, and the camera wobbles as he rushes over to Y/n to pick her up. Their giggles and cheers of excitement can be heard offscreen.

“We’re having a baby!” Harry says.

Back to Harry.

“Are you gonna go for lucky number seven?”

Harry scratches the back of his head. “Currently up for debate. The missus is apprehensive, but I think I’m wearing her down.

Back to Y/n

Y/n scoffs and shakes her head. “He can keep on dreaming.”

“So you’ve had this discussion before?”

“It’s…been mentioned once or twice. But any time he brings it up I threaten him with no sex for two weeks. Am I allowed to say that?”

Back to Harry.

Harry opens his mouth to speak when a small hand tugs on his shirt. Looking down, he smiles. Harry bends down and picks up a little girl. For privacy reasons, her face is blurred. She wraps her arms around his neck so she’s in his lap and her back is facing the camera.

“I’m hungry,” the little girl says in what can only be described as a “monster voice.”

Matching her tone, Harry asks, “What would you like, GiGi?”

“Grilled cheese.”

Harry shakes his head and kisses GiGi’s temple. He covers the microphone clipped on his shirt so he can talk to his daughter privately. With another kiss, he lets go of the mic. “You got it.” Harry shrugs at the camera with a smile. To the camera, he says, “Can we finish this later? Duty calls.”

[jellojelli]

Blade Boyfriend Headcanons

*a/n: I recently got Blade and I love him :,) also my first attempt at any n s ! w so please let me know if I should keep at it or just leave it be!*

As always, 🛑Minors DNI🛑

**Also for future reference if you don’t want to see any works with n s ! w content please block the tag [character name] smut or [fandom abbreviation] smut and all of my works with that content should be blocked!**

Sfw

To start off, being with Blade romantically would be very challenging even for the most patient and understanding of people

This is quite literally because Blade is a very single minded and broken individual, the man has literally given up his name and identity to become like a blade and to be a stronger person. And on top of that I imagine having a regenerative ability that stops him from dying even when being stabbed and torn apart makes him a little insane in the membrane

However, once you have his attention it is very easy to worm your way into his heart

The only reason it feels like a challenge and why you have to be patient and understanding is because Blade doesn’t know how to act on these new feelings. This can lead to a lot of misunderstandings on your part because of his continued cold attitude. I mean the guy seemingly ignores you and gives curt answers no matter how long you’ve known him or how long you’ve been trying to romance him

But give him some time to finally ask someone Kafka about these new feelings and he’ll start trying to be more soft with you while following the advice given to him on how to win you over and ask you to be his

Don’t be surprised that his confession isn’t all drawn out, rehearsed, or even all that romantic. He tried his best, but in the end he couldn’t see the point in recreating a movie scene so he simply waited for the both of you to be alone before confessing

Even though he didn’t want to recreate a scene from some cheesy romance movie he ended up being really cool and cheesy anyways. I mean the guy literally waited until nighttime hit and then caressed your face while saying you made him “feel all these unnecessary feelings” when you were with him points if you know what I’m referencing hehe

Also he has zero concerns for your species. He may be a long life species cursed with self-healing, but that will never stop him from loving you once he’s able to convey those emotions. He’ll be damned if he lets you being a short-life species or a Vidyahara stop him from being with you or your reincarnations. Literally once you have him, you have him for the rest of his accursed existence

Blade would literally and very easily kill for you once you’re his. Rest easy knowing that your enemy is his enemy 10x over and should he ever see them they will pay the price for ever wronging you. Don’t worry though, you don’t have to make his enemies yours. He understands that the way he operates isn’t exactly normal, plus he has his pride to deal with on accepting help and he’d rather you didn’t put yourself in unnecessary, dangerous situations for his sake

Speaking of, this man will become livid and scarily angry if you do stupid things, especially if you’re doing it for him. He trusts you, he knows you’re strong in your own way, but don’t mistake his knowledge of that for him wanting or being okay with you being in those situations

He will not initiate physical affection with you, even in private. It’s not that he doesn’t want to, but he has too much pride to go up to you for a lil huggy or a kissy

Blade will subtly melt at any affection you give him though. Hugs will make his body relax, you can literally feel his body slump onto yours when you give him any type of hug. His favorites are back hugs and when you make him wrap his arms around you while you look up at him, so jot that down. Kisses are strictly for when it’s just the two of you. He doesn’t really care about pda or things like that, but he is a touch possessive and he would sooner be dead then let anyone see you or him in such a vulnerable and intimate way

He’s also a huge sucker for forehead kisses, giving and receiving. Blade really enjoys when you kiss his forehead and move down to kiss his nose and then lips before he has to leave or before you leave on a mission or for personal reasons

Dates with Bladie are interesting for lack of a better word

Mans will literally take you to the most breathtaking, gorgeous corner of the universe and deadass tell you take up your weapon for some training

Now this kind of situation is only on the rare occasions he takes some initiative and asks you to come with him. Most of the time you will be taking him somewhere that you want to go to since he only wants to train or hunt down someone

Idk about y’all, but I can see this man willingly being your bag holder if you enjoy shopping?? Like don’t ask for his opinion on anything because he will not give you anything more than logical and boring responses (“what’s the point of getting a shirt like that? You will have to destroy it the second an enemy appears.”) but he will hype you up in his own way by assuring you that yes, you look beautiful/handsome in any piece of clothing you could possibly pick up. He’ll repeat himself as many times as he has to as well

Blade is a very silent man so not gonna lie you will be the main person talking at every given moment. I mean he literally just stares at you the whole time you talk and nods or hums at certain points. Don’t think he isn’t listening though or that he won’t call out you for adding in some weird detail to see if he’s listening because trust me, he is holding onto to your every word like it’s the words from an Aeon

Surprisingly, he remembers every anniversary and is quite the romantic for his standards

While it’s nothing grand, Blade will gift you a single rose with a hand written note. He always leaves it on your nightstand and he never stays after

You will have to hunt this man down to give him your gift and thank him for the rose and the note

Bladie here can be a bit of a sap when he writes, especially because he agonized over it and, again, swallowed his pride to ask Kafka how to convey these feelings in a way you would like

While he doesn’t really need to be patched up after battles, if you insist to bandage him up his heart melts just a bit and maybe he feels a twinge of guilt at making you worry for his well-being

Fights likely don’t happen often between you two unless you like to be reckless or have intentions of changing him or stopping him from hunting down those that owe him. The last two things you have to accept to be in a relationship with Blade. He can compromise and even 100% change his ways for just about anything else that involves you and him, but he will never stop pursuing those that he has sworn to make pay. Being reckless though will always drive him up a wall. He loves you with his entire being even if he cannot express it well, and the one thing he wants from you is for you to stay with him for as long as you physically can

If you can’t keep yourself from being reckless Blade has no issues punishing you by ignoring you or being cold to you. He also isn’t above mentioning your behavior to Kafka or having her pass it on to Elios that you may mess up his script by not behaving or getting involved in something you can’t handle. Blade won’t even care if you ignore him over it or yell at him, in the end if he can keep you as safe as possible a few hurtful words or lonely nights don’t matter to him in the long run

Nsfw

Blade is strictly a top and he will not relinquish his control in the bedroom for anyone

Not to say that he won’t try things with you or even let you think that you’re in control, but just know that in any situation Blade is the one allowing things to happen or not and he can and will put a stop to it and put you back into place

He can be rough and almost animalistic when it comes to sex. I’m talking fast, rough fucking while he growls in your ear and mutters absolute filth to you

I cannot see him being explicitly turned on by any talk play like degrading or praise, however, he lets some mocking praise slip out when you obey and act good for him

Sex is also serious with him, he’s not stuffy or uncomfortable with these situations, but he wouldn’t appreciate you cracking jokes or making light of your intimate moments. Would let it slide though during your first few times together and especially if it’s your first time in general as he can’t fault you for being nervous

Into biting and marking both ways

Literally makes him go even faster and harder when you bite him or when you start scratching down his back. You also have some impressive bite marks from him and hickies litter your entire body. This also includes cum marking and he would get excited again at record speeds seeing you covered in his spend. God help you if you try and tease him by licking it off your fingers or smear it more on yourself

He’s also into both edging and overstimulating you. He loves the power he has over you by being the only one to allow you to cum or being the one making you orgasm until you physically can’t anymore. Don’t even think about trying to edge or overstimulate him though because he will make you pay for it

Blade will also go all night and well into the morning if your body can keep up with it

Listen, Blade is a master at finger fucking. I mean he trains with a sword and is hella strong in his arms and hands because of that and he doesn’t mind using his strength and dexterity to deliver the most mind blowing finger fuck of your life

N O T into toys. Doesn’t matter if they can help overstimulate you or pleasure you better while you get him off. As I said before, he’s a bit possessive and nothing will pleasure you other than his mouth, fingers, cock, or his body in general. Don’t even dream of it, he won’t allow it. Expect for him to literally trash any toy he finds and show you that he’s better than any stupid vibrator or dildo that any world could produce

I’ll be honest, I don’t see him being into oral, giving it or receiving. I mean he wouldn’t deny you or not go down on you because of that, and if you’re really set on sucking him off he won’t say no unless it calls for it. But he would rather fuck you and be inside of you that way instead of your mouth. Though he does like receiving it sometimes, especially when he’s having more of a power trip or when he’s proving a point after finding some toy you may have bought

If he does give you oral, he prefers it when you sit on his face. And I mean sit on this man’s face. If you don’t put your weight on him he can and will grab your thighs and bring you down how he wants you. This is the only time he’s giving you some kind of control, so you better sit and ride his face until he’s decided you’ve had enough

***Literally blushing and banging my head on a wall for writing this, how do y’all write like this and not want to crawl into a hole. Anyways how do y’all tag this kinda content and keep tumblr from shadow banning the work/profile***

[crows-heart]

Howdy Pillar Headcanons :D

be aware this is my first time writing on tumblr so if its a tad odd in some places, i apologize :))) i should be doing my math work i missed or sleeping but guess what i wont

cw: staring mentions (?), howdy being cheesy, i think that's it? ( i do not know how to tag stories)

(look at the funky man!!)

Dating Howdy!!

i just KNOW this man loves to give hugs from behind

everytime you're doing literally anything that has you with your back exposed, he's going to pick you up

you could be in the middle of cleaning and next thing you know four limbs are wrapped around you and you're being picked up

he is both big spoon and little spoon, ignore the fact that he's like 7 foot/213 cm

if you don't like being hugged/touched, that's fine! he likes to make sure that you're comfortable with how he shows affection.

instead of hugging you, he tends to move things around to make it more accessible for you (especially if you enjoy cooking/baking, there are a lot of things in the howdy-sized cabinets but not the y/n-sized cabinets)

sometimes he does purposefully move things out of your reach to have you call him over for help so he can come bother you >:)

that is until you learned that you can climb on the counters... (as someone who is short, this is in fact the most effective way of getting things [dont do this])

he loves holding hands with you! regardless of whether you're in public or at home, he enjoys making sure that you don't get lost /j ("Its hard to see you all the way down there, neighbor!")

he is also a big fan of pinky holding <3

i hc him to have some anxiety issues, so this is a big reason why he enjoys holding hands/pinkys

it's become a big way to help him calm down, and if you start rubbing shapes (?) into his hand it makes things a lot better (he does it to you too <3)

after a long day at the bugdega (bodega? I've seen someone call it that so I'm calling it that bc it's funky!), he will fwump literally anywhere it is convenient for him to do so

let's just hope you're not on the couch/bed because you are a candidate for him to do so! (good luck)

he constantly is making sure that you're ok, mentally and physically! he is a great listener, and he gives great advice too.

everytime you try to help him out at the bugdega, he CANNOT focus

he will literally stare at you for ages until either you or a neighbor points out he's doing so ("howdy, are you ok?" "huh- oh yeah! it's just that you're really pretty...")

he also gives you an 100% discount if you agree to a kiss

either he's really cheesy, or he's reciting poetry to you, there is in fact, no in-between

"i love you berry much! *holds out a strawberry*"

"If i was to be given the option of eternal life, i would turn it down, for a life without you is not one worth living."

all in all, your relationship is berry sweet!! (help i regret writing that)

Being friends with Howdy!!

if YOU have chaotic energy, HE has chaotic energy

he could be cheerfully having an exchange with julie to chanting "thief" to wally in the corner with you (art idea??? might make this)

howdy is great at adapting to your current mood! if you're being funky and all gremlin-like, so is he! if you're tired or sad, he makes sure to give you your time and space to talk if you want!

regardless of this, he does give mother-friend energy

not in the sense of like making sure you're sunscreened, but just looking out for you and making sure you're ok :O)

he LOVES to spook you. regardless of how tall he is, he is in fact, great at sneaking around!

he is also good at being quiet on his feet, which does not end well when you're in the middle of doing something

i feel like he is genuinely a sweet guy, but when he's with friends, he's a totally different caterpillar

if tiktok existed then, you would constantly point at him and say "caterpillar" in that voice (y'know the one from the audio that everyone draws frank spying on howdy with [i absolutely love that audio])

HE KNOWS ALL OF THE GOSSIP OOH JUST YOU WAIT

"did you hear? frank and eddie are finally dating!" "HAH WALLY OWES ME HIS APPLE SUPPLY"

wally is definitely a part of your guy's shenanigans btw it's canon I'm howdys hat

if howdy needs something delivered (most likely wallys hairspray/apples) and eddie isn't available, he asks you! you're practically a second employee so you might as well ahshefs

you still get an 100% discount, since you know, you're kinda working there so that's fabulous!!

he's practically your babysitter at this point i just kinda imagine y/n being one of the leash kids

he can and will throw you on top of his shoulders, you think he's not buff under those sleeves? he has to carry around literal HUNDREDS of apples for wally pretty much everyday

i feel like he likes making things with his hands (I'm really projecting here arent i)

HE LIKES MAKING TINY THINGS OK OK GLAD WE CAN AGREE

random little figurines or things you enjoy will just appear. you have little to no clue where they came from but that's fineee

he knows some of the most obscure things, either about you, or anything really

he loves hearing people infodump about anything! he loves learning new things about people's special interests :D

at the end of the day, he appreciates being your friend so much! he's so glad he got to meet you <3

i am very tired so im probably going to sleep now!! i really liked making this but headcanons are not, in fact, my strong suit. requests are open, i would love to write some more for welcome home!!

[cryptidcorners]

hi c: i was hoping i could request smth like reader doesn't like her laugh bc she got like made fun of it in like highschool so she like when she does laugh around mike she gets like really embarrassed and mike is like ???? i like your laugh C: (SORRY IF THIS IS CRINGE LOLOL) have a great day :)

Mike Schmidt x F!Reader - Pretty Laugh

Description: Mike finds his girlfriend's laugh adorable, and is incredibly shocked to find she's embarrassed about it . Requested by anon .

Media: FNaF!Movie

Character: Mike Schmidt

Tags: Girlfriend!Reader, Established Relationship, Fluff, Comfort, Mike Rambling, Romantic, Cute Stuff, Slice of Life, Encouragement, Slight Protective Mike

Warnings: Some mentions of bullying . Not too severe .

Check out my TOS before reading . Thank you ! + MIKE SCHMIDT MASTERLIST

"I'm sorry," you choked back a harsh giggle. "my laugh."

Mike's smile softened as he caught his breath, eyes fluttering, "What are you talking about?" his tone was breathy from the aftermath of giggling so hard. You shyly averted your eyes away with a gentle shrug, "It's annoying."

Mike's brow arched immediately, already puzzled. "Annoying? Who told you that?" his tone sharpened. He stayed closer to you, hand wrapped around yours with a desperate gaze. You assured him quickly with a gesture, "Oh, no, no. Nobody said anything." You sighed, "I mean, right now."

Mike frowned, resembling some defeat pup. It ached him to see you blue, even if it was something minor. "Do you want to talk about it?" His voice was slow and already growing tender. He watched your gaze narrow and immediately reeled back, "I mean, we don't need to. We can keep talking if you'd like," Admittedly, you felt silly talking about something that happened years ago, but, Mike never judged you. So it never hurt to open up.

You lightened your chest with a rough exhale, "No, no. I should. I really should," Mike scooted closer, giving you the comfort of leaning on him slightly. His presence always invited you in, even during the darkest of times. "Well, in highschool, I was constantly made fun of, like, by everyone. Because of my laugh. They'd try to make me giggle so I could do it, and it'd be so embarrassing." You explained, "Even my friends teased me, and did the same thing. It got to the point where I'd just avoid seeing people or trying my best to seem out of it. Called me a witch, clown, you name it. Now, I'm just . . . a little insecure about it? I never told anyone."

Mike broke the silence, "I think your laugh is pretty."

"Really?"

He nodded and cupped your face. He started kissing you gently, lightly pecking your face with ticklish signs of affection. You couldn't help but giggle, "Mike, what are you doing?" and yet, you were hugging him tightly.

"I wanna hear you laugh more, obviously." He answered, "And I want to make you love it as much as I do,"

You pulled him in, smiling infectiously. "You're so cheesy, but I love it."

Mike chuckled. You had no idea how he made your heart soar just by complimenting you. You melted in his touch, truly comfortable wrapped around his arms. "Thank you,"

Mike gazed at you warmly, "You're welcome." and he was already thinking about all the ways he could make you laugh.

A.N: this was so cute I'm dying actually!!!

[meltedbluecaterpillar]

L’appel Du Vide

you are here! - ch. ii - ch. iii - ch. iv - ch. v - ch. vi - ch. vii - ch. viii - ch. ix - ch. x

A/N: The notes on tumblr will be different than the ones on Ao3. I pulled this from within the pit in my heart. I made this for a reason. And I hope that you hate and enjoy it.

tags: Rook Hunt x fem!reader, aged up au (both characters are 20+), kidnapping and imprisonment wc: 2.8k+

Your janitorial equipment rattles slightly in its cart as you turn the door knob to the now vacant hospital room. The rays of daybreak peek through the curtains on your last room for this shift, your shoulders relaxing knowing you were so close to going home.  The man who once occupied this space had finally been discharged. You hadn’t ever seen him but apparently he had been asking about you. A lot. One of the on staff nurses wanted to gossip tonight. She told you about the oddball staying in the now desolate room. Apparently the patient had seen you come into the hospital before your shift started one night and hadn’t stopped talking about you until he was finally released. He claimed to have fallen madly in love with you, saying you looked exactly like a rabbit he was trying to catch in his recent dreams. However, he had come into the hospital a few days ago due to a bad head injury. The person that brought him in said he was fond of climbing trees and a branch he was sitting on snapped. 

It was strange knowing someone had been that hyper focused on you. You didn’t interact with patients at all. You only cleaned the empty rooms and the lounges late at night. But you couldn’t let yourself feel bothered by it. He was injured and confused. You never saw him, and the nurses would never give up important information to a stranger. You shook the thought away as you turned up the music on your airpods and finished cleaning the hospital room. The woman at the front desk wished you a good morning as you waved goodbye with your jingling keycard in hand. 6am on the dot. Now you could make a quick breakfast and head to sleep. You had the next three days off to recover and get the things done that you had been putting off. 

It was hard to juggle a night shift job and your normal life. But you always made it work somehow. You had to, you lived alone after all. You opened the door to your tiny apartment, slipping out of your shoes with a light kick of your feet. It was another day of proving your parents wrong. They didn’t believe you were capable of independence. They wanted you to stay where they could see you, regardless of how old you were. But being 21 meant that you should have all the freedom to do all of the adult things you could dream of. Drinking a cold beer under the summer sun, buying a strawberry flavored vape like your favorite coworkers, and even just owning your own apartment. You just wanted to finally be recognized as an adult. You packed up your things and surprised them with the announcement. Right before taking off the next morning with the last of your things. It has been six months since you’ve been on your own. You loved it. Decorating your apartment how you saw fit. Eating what you wanted when you wanted. Staying up late and sleeping all day. And complete privacy to do whatever you wanted in your rented space. 

You turned on the light with a quick squint of your eyes from the brightness. Your apartment was tiny. A neat little studio on the fourth floor of your complex. Usually you wouldn’t mind taking the stairs, but today you felt so tired that you caved and used the often desolate elevator to take you up. It was always quiet since you worked late night shifts cleaning at the hospital. You loved the peace and your neighbors did too. You bumped the door to your apartment shut with a yawn and stretched your arms over your head, causing your joints to pop. Entering the kitchen to make a slice of cheesy toast before you showered with your keys tossed haphazardly onto the resin coated counter. 

Your appetite dwindled significantly in favor of sleep the longer you stood in the kitchen space. The ‘after work high’ never lasted as long as you wished it would. But you could always clean and make a snack when you woke up in a few hours. You finished your toast and slowly undressed, dropping your clothes to the floor as you entered your bathroom for a quick rinse. 

Your skin always lingered with the scent of lemony cleaner and Lysol spray. It used to make you nauseous when you first started cleaning overnight. But after a few months you stopped gagging at the overwhelming aroma. You lathered yourself in soap, making sure to watch your hair and face. You brushed your teeth with heavy eyelids as your hair started to coil at the ends, dripping with water. You finished up, drying yourself with a towel and shutting off the light to your bathroom. You slipped into your comfortable pajamas and made sure your curtains were drawn tightly as you eased into bed. Your blankets hugging your body as you sighed with content. When you woke up, your days off would begin. You could wash your laundry, go grocery shopping, make plans to see your friends when the sun came back up, whatever you wanted to do. Your parents always fussed over the world being scary and dangerous but you always saw them as just paranoid because of social media telling them there are monsters and fiends that live online. They didn’t want anything bad to happen to you. But they were just too overbearing. You could take care of yourself just fine.

You’re fine. 

You were fine. 

You didn’t remember falling asleep at all when you settled into bed. 

You remember a haunting dream. Or maybe it was a terrifying memory considering what was happening now. 

The feeling of being folded into an impossible shape and crammed into a wooden box. Your wrists and ankles are bound with plastic zip ties that dug against your skin, something soft and cottony was stuffed in your mouth with an adhesive you assumed to be tape covering your lips. You were staring up at the orange and purple sky with exhausted eyes that never seemed to close. You watched the sky devoid of soft, white, cottony clouds go from the orange sunrise, to the delicate blue of the day. Soon transitioning to the violet and orange sunset, then pitch black with not a single star to be seen. All of this was witnessed through a tiny, circle shaped hole above you. Your body remained folded like origami paper into that impossible shape. Aching painfully to be freed from the suffocating wooden box you were stuck in. Slowly drifting and rocking to an unknown place before you had closed your eyes again. The smell of salt water, the sound of crashing waves. This was supposed to be an odd dream. A very uncomfortable and traumatizing one. Not a memory. You wished it wasn’t a memory.  

A crunching sound caused your eyes to snap open. Like something being cut. Your eyes slowly adjusted to the new scenery around you. It was an unfinished basement, completely empty. Wooden steps leading upwards to a doorway you couldn’t see. A small window where pale yellow light came pooling in, and a dim, orange lightbulb above to illuminate what the natural lighting couldn’t. Dust particles floated around the air, giving an odd feeling of normalcy. 

The oddest part was the man sitting only a few feet away. He sat on a wooden chair, balancing a white ceramic plate on his knee with a hum as he carved an apple slice into the shape of a bunny with long, apple skin ears. He looked strong. Pale, muscular arms exposed, lightly speckled in pale brown freckles. His black t-shirt pulled taut over his chest. Khaki cargo pants that stretched over his strong thighs. He was wearing black combat boots and he would occasionally tap his foot as he hummed and carved. His hair was short and blond, pulled back into a ponytail as he worked with those same light brown freckles spotting the bridge of his nose. The oddest part was that he was doing this with his eyes closed. 

This was a skill he practiced enough to do without being able to see. 

Your expression became troubled as you noticed the difficulty of moving your body. Your arms were bound behind your back and so were your ankles. Thick, scratchy rope dug into your skin, replacing the plastic zip ties. It rubbed the flesh raw and bruised as you laid on your side against a hard cement floor. The part that made you actually panic was the fact that you were completely nude. You wriggled around, trying to sit up on your knees as the cutting sound halted. “Vous êtes maintenant réveillé.” It was the man not too far from you. “Bonjour, mon lapin.” You didn’t speak French. 

Tears of panic welled in your eyes as you lifted your gaze to meet the strange man. “I-I’m sorry do you speak english? Do you know what’s going on?” You wanted to reason him as you pulled your knees up towards your stomach the best you could. At least for some form of modesty. His eyes opened. A vibrant green, something that would usually entrance you with the soft and hypnotizing shade. But they held no light. No warmth. Empty and hollow. The man didn’t see you. 

He saw ‘mon lapin’. 

“Ugly American-English,” He chuckled and pointed the knife at you, bobbing it in his hand with a soft tsk of disapproval. “I teach you, eh, comment dire mes objets préférés.” His accent was a little thick. But you could understand him enough to not ask him to repeat. He didn’t seem much older than you which made this all the more frightening. “To have you imported was difficult. I feed you now.” He beamed happily and tucked the knife into the belt of his cargo pants. He grabbed the plate and moved to stand from the wooden chair as he approached you. Imported? “N-No there’s a misunderstanding-”

“Non, no misunderstandings. You are… Rabbit! You look just alike.” He chuckled as he stood over you, looking down at your naked body bound with rope as you struggled not to tremble and burst into tears. You wanted to go home. You wanted to go home now. Tears started to roll down your cheeks as he kneeled, setting the plate gently on the floor with a clack. He reached around to roughly tug you by your bound arms into a sitting position. You yelped and cried, stress sweat collecting on the back of your knees and under your arms. You tried to kick away from him out of fear with a shake of your head but he softly shushed you as he picked up the plate and showed it to you with another tug on your bare body. Pristine, lined in rabbit cut apple slices and stray pieces of dark red skin. “You eat, or you die.” He continued to smile as he took one of the slices between his pointer and thumb. “Ouvrir.” He instructed sweetly. 

Your eyes darted anxiously from his fingers to his face. Eat or die. Not an intentional threat. It didn’t feel like a threat, just him genuinely saying you needed to eat. “Ahhhh.” He sang as he pressed the sliced fruit towards your lips. Your body was shaking, tears continued to fall as you awkwardly parted your lips and looked downwards. You accepted the sliced fruit. It was sweet and slightly bitter on your tongue. The odd man seemed to be pleased with your response as he watched you slowly chew and look around the basement with a meek sniffle. 

You’re playing house with a disturbed person. If you could earn his trust, you could get out of here. You finished and swallowed, looking sadly at the plate and then the smiling man. “I… I can feed myself…” You didn’t want the stranger’s fingers so close to your mouth. “Non, I do it for you. For now.” His tone was still kind, yet firm. He would feed you this time, and probably the next before you would be allowed to eat with your hands. He pressed another slice to your lips and watched you eat. The process continued until you had finished all of his little carvings. You felt full and a little calmer now. But that didn’t change the fact you were still a captive. The man rubbed the top of your head and gave you two small pats before moving to stand with the now empty plate. “I will bring water.” He assured as he turned and walked away, heading towards the wooden stairs with a soft hum. 

You listened to each step and counted silently. Following along with the pounding of your heart. You counted 18 steps in total before you heard a door swing open and shut. Your mouth was cotton dry now as you blinked away the last remaining tears you had. You used your feet to push you towards the wall until your back was flat against the cool, stone surface. You didn’t hear any voices from upstairs. For now, you assumed the stranger lived alone. 

He didn’t seem upset with you asking him questions. But if you were too invasive that could change. You weren’t in a position to make demands yet either. You could only wait for now even if you felt like you wanted to vomit from anxiety. All of the survival skills you had seen online and in thriller movies had faded away like a worn shirt print. You had no idea what to do except stay calm and think. He seemed familiar somehow. But you didn’t remember ever meeting someone who spoke French the way he did. In Highschool you had friends that took a class, saying it was such a stupid language. None of the words sounded the way they were spelled. You would have better luck understanding Morse Code before you could learn French. The door swung open again, then shut. You counted 18 steps before the man appeared again. He was holding a glass of water in one hand, and a yellow book in the other. “Je suis revenu! Je t’ai manqué, mon lapin?” He was cheerful as he approached you slowly, mindful of his speed so as to not startle you. But you could see he was thrilled to interact. It was extremely odd. You really were playing house with this guy. He kneeled again, placing the book in front of you. “French for dummies?” You read the cover out loud, wanting to force an amused laugh. But you could only guess your captor was growing sick of using English. “Relationships need, eh, communication? We speak your Ugly American English, we speak mon romantique françias.” He cooed as you nodded slowly in understanding. “It’ll be hard to read with my hands tied.” You joked awkwardly as he cupped your chin in his hand and showed you the clear glass with a delicate shake to swish the see through liquid inside. “Not poison. It is water.” He was clearly trying to gain your trust as well.

This whole situation felt bizarre. You had read books, watched TV shows and movies, even listened to TrueCrime podcasts about how kidnappers were willing to throw you in a basement and leave you for days. Torturing you for fun and doing whatever they pleased with your body. But the worst you’ve experienced so far is being tied up and naked. He hasn’t threatened to hit you or kill you yet. It really feels like he sees you as a pet and not his captive. If he wanted to rape and kill you he already would have. Unless this is just a fucked up mind game?

He repeated the phrase ‘Ouvrir’ and you parted your lips. He helped you drink, allowing you moments to catch your breath before giving you more. “I will make hands useable. After you finish water. You may read.” He explained as you went to get another sip. “You will eat again and drink again when I am, eh, returned? When I come back to you. You eat your lunch.” He was having trouble explaining in english. This could be why he also needs you to learn French. Usually captors don’t care about stuff like that right? You finished the glass still craving more water. “You’re leaving me here?” You tried to sound anxious. Hoping to be as convincing as possible. “Oui,” He nodded with a grin as he began to grab you by your arms again. “to get lunch.” He explained with a chuckle before raising your bound legs and twisting your body around until your hands were no longer tucked behind your back. “Please be good while I am away. I will leave you more water.” He offered kindly before rubbing the top of your head and giving you two firm pats. He took the glass as he climbed the 18 steps and closed the door. 

You refused to sit and wait for him to come back. You needed to get out of here one way or another.

[helloporcelain]

Retrouvailles

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3 Pairing: Astarion/Tav (gender neutral) Rating: Teen Tags: Reincarnation (Tav dies/Astarion doesn't), au-ish, Astarion's POV, oneshot.

Summary: “Until the day you draw your last breath, they will always return,” the god warns you. “And you will always find them. But they will never be the same, and they will never remember you.” Note: I got a little brainworm after seeing this lovely fanart by @cheesy-cryptid.

Read on AO3 if you prefer

–

Long ago, when you were a slave, you used to pray. 

Beneath the lashes that were etched onto your flesh, you would pray. When your master abandoned you to the cruel clutches of starvation, you would pray. And on the evenings where your exhaustion was so heavy you nearly died under the weight of it all, you would still pray. You would pray tirelessly, and in as many broken tongues as you knew, and to as many gods as you could remember. Yet none deigned to answer your pleas.

Many centuries later, you pray once more.

This time, Velsharoon, the archmage of necromancy, the patron of liches and god of the undead, embraces you. 

–

You’re not sure if this is a dream. 

“Little love,” you murmur. “You should be resting.”

They sit on a bench in your garden, a willowy figure tending to the belladonnas and foxgloves you planted for them when they became too frail to stand on their own. Water spills out from the pot as their fingers tremble under the weight, splashing at their bare feet and brushing the edges of their tattered cloak.

“Even the prettiest flowers die,” they hum in response. 

You watch them for a while with fondness — then you realize that this isn’t real. 

“Are you a memory?” you ask.

“I am always myself,” they answer. 

They pluck a blossom from the damp earth by the stem and gesture for you to join at their side, and when you draw near, they face you; yet you cannot see them, only the wilted flower that they press into your hand. 

“Tell me, Astarion. Will you scoop the pleasure of existence out from the soil with your fingers? Will you have your fill until you are so full, you overflow?” 

– 

They gift you many paintings, each one a magnificent attempt to capture you, but you are never satisfied. They’re all just replicas , you complain, beautiful, pale imitations!

But the years pass on by, and vanity doesn’t hold as much sway on you as it used to. There is an old saying: time leaves its mark not on the faces we see, but in the hands we hold. 

You long for those changes, to prove that you have shared this messy life with your darling.

Your fingers stay smooth, and you feel just as strong as you were when you first met them all those years ago on that fateful day out in the wilderness. And though you can’t see your own reflection, you know it remains unchanged. 

In contrast, they bear the unmistakable signs of age: silvery wisps of hair, wrinkles tracing the counters of their eyes, and bone thin fingers. You think they are exquisite this way— that they are more beautiful than they have ever been– and you make sure to whisper this into their ears every time you make love.

Oh, they don’t believe you for a while. You’ll find me frightful, just a withering old thing next to you, they joke once, trying to hide their insecurity. 

But they grow to accept their aging body– it is, after all, a gift that very few are fortunate to receive.

Occasionally, in the presence of strangers who think of you as their protégé, or sometimes even their son, they playfully call you their ‘little prince’. The nickname grates on you, a reminder of your unchanging curse, but you never voice your displeasure. Seeing them smile is just enough for you. 

–

One winter’s season, just shy of their 700th year, they fall ill. 

Nothing unusual for a person of their age, and certainly nothing a carefully concocted potion can’t remedy. 

You kneel at their bedside, tenderly propping them up against the velvet headboard, tilting their jaw back to sip on some darjeeling tea. You raise the back of their delicate hand up to your lips and press a gentle kiss against a vein. 

“Little love, I’m going to visit the cleric. I won’t be long.” 

“Little prince,” they cough, smiling weakly at you. “I’ll see you when you get back.” 

You have no reason to believe that the gods will claim them before the sun even gets a chance to rise.

–

You pray that they understand. 

“Until the day you draw your last breath, they will always return,” the god warns you. “And you will always find them. But they will never be the same, and they will never remember you.” 

You’ll wait a thousand lifetimes for them – you’ll love them regardless of the form their soul inhabits.

“When your time eventually comes– and it will come, vampire– you will not join them. Your soul will be bound to me, tethered for eternity. You will never know rest.”

You’ll forsake the afterlife, if that’s what it takes to allow you a glimpse of your beloved.

“Are you absolutely certain?” 

You’ve never been more certain of anything else in your life. 

“Bring them back.” 

You pray that they forgive you. 

–

Twenty five years and sixteen days pass.

It’s not as though they would be born again as an adult and delivered onto your front door step immediately— you understand this, but at some point, you wonder if the notoriously capricious god has forgotten all about you. 

But one day, you sense their presence, just as Velrashoon said you would. Something compels you to Neverwinter – and you follow that feeling without a second thought. 

Not knowing when you’ll come back, you lock up your home and bring only what is necessary for the journey there. The voyage by boat takes roughly fifteen days to reach land and you can’t wait to get off the ship; the seas are unforgiving and on the nights you do come out of your cabin, you strain your eyes out over the waves, wondering who they will be in this life. 

Neverwinter is true to its name – there is an otherworldly warmth in the air that reminds you of them, even during the nighttime, which you welcome. You missed the heat of the sun while they were alive, but you longed for it even more after they passed away. 

When you reach the city, you should be in awe – and in any other lifetime, you would be eager to explore it. But today, you’re frantically racing to find them. Your feet lead you to the front door of an assuming little bookshop tucked away from the busy streets.  

If your heart had a pulse, it would be racing – it would be threatening to burst out of your chest. You push through the front doors, the bell above sweetly announcing your arrival, and search around the crowded shelves and stacks of books. No one stands out – until you notice someone perched at the top of a ladder, rearranging a few volumes.

It’s them.

You know it’s them.

“Ah, hello! I’ll be down in a second. Are you looking for something in particular?”

“Yes.” A wistful smile tugs at the corners of your lips. “I most certainly am.”

–

In this lifetime, they are human. 

You visit their bookshop often – you purchase a humble manor in the city and you come in every week to search for a new book.

Every book is one that they once cherished, and every week that you return they greet you with unbridled excitement, curious to see which book catches your interest this time. 

Truth be told, you’ve read these books a hundred times over, and they all go onto a shelf in your new home, patiently waiting for your sweet to finger through their pages again. 

It really doesn’t take long for them to fall in love with you – humans have always fallen prey to vampires the easiest, something about being so fragile makes dangerous creatures like you so alluring. They tell you that they’ve never experienced a love like this, and you lie and tell them that you never have, either. Your second life with them is more or less like a fairy tale, picturesque, sometimes even boring in its loveliness. Still, you adore it all the same.

But they’re human, and humans only live so long. 

–

I’ve missed you so much, darling, you confess in your third life together. 

They are a nomadic bard in this life; just a wild, untameable bird when you first find them with a traveling troupe in Waterdeep. You will never wish to lock them in a gilded cage so they go where their heart pleases, and most of the time, you follow. Your sweetheart is a wanderer – and you fly along with the winds of their dreams.

They laugh, having come to expect your flair for the dramatic. 

I’ve only been gone a few days, Astarion.

A few days too long, little love. 

– 

In their fourth reincarnation, they are born a bastard to a vicious pirate king.

You feel them around fifty years in, but don’t actually manage to track them down in the Moonshae Isles until their eightieth year – it never occurred to you that they would be thrashing around in the seas. It's not exactly your preferred territory to be adventuring in, but it certainly offers a change of pace.

The way they first greet you with a sword to your neck reminds you of the time you once held a dagger to theirs. Ah, such fond memories. This variation of your darling is one that you secretly cherish the most – the one that just cannot seem to stay away from trouble.

It’s easily one of your most exciting lifetimes, despite the fact that living amongst the ocean is one of your worst nightmares. It’s a true weakness of yours, one that you are willing to brave only for them. 

“Such a strong and fearsome vampire,” your love teases, on a night where the waves are particularly strong and you can’t stand up straight. “Yet the water terrifies you so.” 

Their life begins with the ocean – how fitting it is that it ends with the ocean too, screaming and struggling amidst the violent tempest, their existence reduced to bubbles as they plummet like an anchor to the sea’s depths.

You barely make it back onto dry land with your life intact. 

Even if you knew how to swim, you wouldn’t have been able to save them anyway.

–

It takes a hundred years for you to find them in their fifth life. 

It’s never taken this long, and you go slightly mad trying to keep yourself busy while you wait for that phantom tug in your chest. 

When you do find them, they’re a paladin, hardened by loss. They don’t tell you about it, and you never ask.  

Every reincarnation of them after their first form has been unfamiliar with the version of you that lies – up until the night you decide that you just need to share the burden of your profound secret.

There is an excruciating loneliness in keeping it all yourself, and though you are well aware they won’t — can’t — remember, you long for them to grasp the depths of your love. You want them to understand that your devotion spans the abyss of time, that it transcends the limitations of flesh and bone, that your eternity means absolutely nothing without them.

However, you’re just not brave enough to admit to your beloved that you have lived four lifetimes with them now, but you are able to tell them a half truth: that you were lovers, that they were reborn, and that you brought them back.

They are furious, which you expected, but they are also completely inconsolable; that, you are not prepared for. 

“How dare you?” they sob, their words fraught with anguish. “How entitled you are, Astarion, to think you can play as a god.”

"Little love. Please— I’m so sorry.” 

You don’t know how to apologize for this, you just do, over and over. And it doesn’t matter, don't you realize that good intentions never matter? Their cries carry the agony of a soul caught in a never-ending cycle – a suffering of which you had a hand in weaving. Nothing in the world brings you more pain than having to witness them crumbling, wishing that you could take back something you simply don’t have the power to. 

Once they’ve finally calmed down, they make a request: “I want to see it. Take me to my grave.” 

You bring them to their first resting place, thinking that it will help them. 

They don’t leave you, but their despondency settles like a boulder on their back. They don’t have the heart to muster a smile at you during your inadequate attempts to console them, and you often find them staring out of the window, fixating on the garden beyond. 

“You water the plants too much,” they say one morning. “You’ll kill them faster that way.” 

And sometimes, when you kiss them, they respond, but their gaze is glassy and distant, as if lost in another plane entirely. It’s a familiar expression, one you stopped wearing a long time ago. 

Your chest feels like it’s being ripped open. You’ll sooner die than let them go through this again – you promise that this is their last life, that their soul will know peace. It’s not a lie, you tell yourself, if you believe it.

–

You call on Velsharoon countless times in the years that pass. You get on your knees to pray and pray, as you did centuries ago. You offer your soul every time, imploring to him that you have no use for it now, that he may grab it if he is content to – and you beg him to please, please allow for your love to finally rest. 

He does not answer. 

But, you also don’t feel them anymore. 

Nothing pulls at you. There are no whispers in your consciousness, no echoes of their presence reverberating through your chest. There is only silence. You wonder if Velsharoon simply became bored, after all this time, and has decided to cut you from the strings that tie you to them. 

Relief mixes with your sorrow, like a strange potion you have to choke down.

Eventually, you decide that you want to open a gallery – you don’t plan on staying in one place anymore, but you also don’t want to let go of all the things you cherish. And even if you did have a permanent residence, there would be no one left to appreciate the things that make a house a home. 

So you get to work and fill it to the brim. 

Everything they ever loved graces the halls of your exhibition. The jewelry that once adorned them sit on silver trays, protected behind glass. The luxurious robes you draped upon them are now pinned on mannequins; ancient books from centuries past lie open, their yellowing pages forever open on their favorite passages, never to be turned again. This gallery becomes your shrine, the only way to show the world that you loved something once.

Then, it is all too painful to bear. 

You leave it in the hands of a trusted curator, corresponding with her through letters and sending her any new treasures you find during your travels that might suit the gallery. You leave Baldur’s Gate.

Time stretches on, each day merging into the next. The days turn into weeks, and then into months, as hundreds and hundreds of years flow by faster than ever. You dedicate your life to seeing everything the world has to offer, crossing into different lands and learning new languages and occupying yourself with pretty new lovers. You don’t keep track of what year it is anymore, but soon it’s the age of lightbulbs and airships and the world is alive in a way you’ve never seen before – it’s spectacular.

You are so empty, and you wish more than anything that you were dead already.

Velsharoon told you that your time would come, and the morbid curiosity of how you will go is the only thing keeping you from sitting in the sun on your own.

– 

One year, you find yourself returning to Baldur's Gate on a whim. 

You haven’t seen your gallery in what seems like forever, but you have kept a close hand on it all this time – you’ve passed it down through the family, so to speak. Upon your arrival, the newest curator is practically tripping over themselves to greet you. They marvel at your uncanny resemblance to your great, great-grandfather – strong genetics, you tell them.

The hallowed halls of your life's memories stretch out before you, pristine and frozen in time. As you absorb every detail of every item, the reality of your age weighs heavily on you, and you find yourself feeling more ancient than you ever have. You get a sense that this lifetime might be your last – that perhaps Velsharoon is warning you.

That’s when you hear it - the voice that has haunted you through so many lifetimes. 

You tell yourself that you merely wish to see what they look like. 

Just a glimpse. 

It’s curiosity, that’s all it is. 

Then you’ll sell the gallery and never step foot into Baldur’s Gate again.

Their attention is fixed on the very first painting they had ever gifted you— their favorite one, the one that captured the sadness in your eyes so well. You’re nearby, concealed behind a column, pretending to admire a statue before you. Their hair veils their face as they study the portrait, and the longest of minutes pass before they finally move on. 

You attempt to turn away just before they reach you, but your nerves betray your reflexes and your shoulders collide. When you finally lay eyes on them, it feels as though a musket has pierced your chest. 

This time, they look as if they've been plucked straight from their first life with you, not a single strand of hair out of place.

“Hi.”

“Hello.”

A breathless moment lingers between the two of you, and then, a smile ghosts their lips. It’s an echo of a smile – a déjà vu so uncanny that it would unsettle you if you didn’t know any better.

“I’m sorry... Have we met before?”

“I’m afraid not.” 

"I can't quite put my finger on it," they muse, their brows furrowing in thought. “But there's something remarkably familiar about you." 

“Hmm… that portrait of my handsome ancestor might provide a clue," you suggest, pointing to the painting. "Though – I am also the owner of this gallery."

“Oh!” They look at the painting with alarm, then back at you, chuckling. “Yes, perhaps that’s it. My husband brought me here many moons ago, and I’ve continued to visit whenever I return to the city. It is such an enchanting collection. You’re wise to keep it in the family.” 

Husband. This is the first incarnation where you've seen them with a spouse. Ah, it appears that Velsharoon has, at long last, granted them respite from you, and is revealing it in the cruelest way… you always knew he had a depraved sense of humor. 

"Your husband has an impeccable eye for beauty," you complement, making no effort to hide the way your gaze lingers over their body.

“Yes…”

They turn away from you with a faint blush creeping up their neck, eyes drawn back to the painting.

“He did have a deep appreciation for the arts.”

You hold your tongue, understanding that fate is tempting you once more. 

“It’s really not the painting,” they say, this time with conviction. “I know you. I don’t know how I know you. But I do.”

It’s time to make your exit , you chastise yourself, trying to recall the promise you made to them centuries ago. 

Ending a conversation with a complete stranger and walking away would be the most sensible thing to do – you’re an aristocrat, and who are they to you? You have many lovers waiting for you, scattered in different homes across Faerûn – you’re a vampire, you should have a restless appetite for both adventure and wanton delights; you should be reveling in your eternal existence, savoring it with the kind of ravenous abandon that mortals can only dream of. 

And yet, you are also simply just a man. 

Perhaps your love was correct when they thought you fancied yourself a small god. In the grand tapestry of your existence, you ask yourself – what difference does one more thread make for a soul already condemned to damnation?

Well, there’s one thing you know for sure – you've always possessed a remarkable talent for deceit. All it takes is one look at the face that you once loved so much, and it seems that you truly cannot remember the vow.  Yes, now that you think of it – perhaps it was all just a melancholy dream… 

“I don’t know you, my dear. But I would love to.” 

[kitthepurplepotato]

Bakugou Katsuki’s Daily Shenanigans!

Season 2!

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Chapter 1: Relationship 101 with Bakugou Katsuki!

Summary: Bakugou Katsuki fell in love and he hates it. He hates the fluttery feeling in his stomach, he hates how his chest feels when he looks at you, ha hates how his heart starts pounding in his chest every time you leave a tiny kiss on his cheek; Bakugou Katsuki is 100% sure he’s allergic to his girlfriend.

In this story, Bakugou Katsuki learns how to be in a relationship. For the first time in his life he’s struggling to get the thing right, but thankfully, he has the most caring and understanding girlfriend the world has ever seen. That doesn’t mean he’s not getting smacked in the head a few times though. There is a reason why his girlfriend’s nickname is ‘the Menace.’

This season can be read as a stand-alone, but I highly recommend you to start at the beginning to actually understand the story properly!

Tags: Established relationship, aged up characters, fluff, comedy

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Other minor background ships: TodoDeku, KamiJirou (they are married in this AU), Kirishima has a crush on an unknown lady working in a coffee shop 🌚

General warnings for this season: Swear words, highly suggestive, possibly sexual content (haven’t decided yet), mentions of sexual topics, potential mentions of injuries and fights etc.

18+ for safety! New warnings on every chapter.

Also, the writer of the story is a foreigner, so don’t kill her if she makes a mistake, thank you 🩷

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Want to start from the beginning?

Click here for Season 1!

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Mr. Katsuki doesn’t give a fuck about romance.

He doesn’t understand why do people need to be so disgustingly cheesy with each other, he doesn’t understand what’s so good about being in love and he definitely doesn’t understand how did he end up in a committed relationship.

Yes, Bakugou Katsuki, 25 years old Number 2 pro hero is in fucking love and he hates every single minute of it.

He hates it.

So much.

So-so much.

The cuddles? Nah. It gives him all these fluttery-jittery shitty feelings and his heart is probably allergic to it because there is no way it should beat that quickly.

The kisses? Well, they don’t have too much of an experience in that yet as the first time they kissed Katsuki didn’t kiss back as he was too busy having a mental breakdown, then their next kiss was so heated he almost did some unspeakable things to his brand new girlfriend and he had to run home to take care of his misbehaving “friend” and take a really cold shower to stop himself for running back to the office… and that was a terrible experience. Then this whole lovey-dovey thing got awkward. He has no idea what the fuck is he doing and every time he decides to kiss Y/N, his heart wants to explode and he doesn’t want to die so… he’s not doing it.

The sex? Well… they are not there yet but even the thought of it makes Mr. Katsuki insane. In a bad way, of course.

Of course…

Also! No one fucking told him you can get addicted to a person. Love should be illegal. This is terrible. Mr. Katsuki can barely sleep during the night because his fucking mind can’t stop thinking about The Menace and about all the things he… would probably absolutely hate doing. Like cuddling in bed. Or making out until the morning. Or doing other stuff until the morning then call in sick to work, because they are old and their backs hurt. Disgusting. Just disgusting.

Mr. Katsuki is definitely sick in the head. This is all nonsense. He’s not going into his office to be the best hero anymore, but to see Y/N in his shitty oversized hoodies and daydream about her wearing his hoodies instead.

Okay, what the fuck, no.

Fucking no.

Mr. Katsuki hates everyone and everything right now but the one he hates the most is…

“You fucking Menace, get out of my fucking head, I can’t sleep because of you!” Mr. Katsuki yells at his significant other on this lovely Thursday morning.

Ahh, she’s so fucking cute before her first coffee, what the fuck. She looks so confused, Katsuki really wants to kiss her senseless.

Wait, what?

“Aww, that was so fucking cheesy, what the fuck.”

… Nevermind, the urge is gone.

“It wasn’t a compliment, you dipshit!” Katsuki yells again with a face red as a tomato.

“I’ll just act offended then, but can I have my coffee now?”

Y/N comes way too close for Bakugou’s liking. Is it really necessary to stand so close to him? It gives his heart a hard time. Being allergic to your girlfriend sucks.

“Who said it’s yours?” The blonde retorts. Maybe he just wanted to bring his best friend a coffee. Or have two coffees.

“It’s mine now.” The Menace puts her mouth on Mr. Katsuki’s cheek, which makes his heart act up again. She snatches the coffee out of his hand while he’s distracted and sits back down happily to finish her paperwork.

Mr. Katsuki hates The Menace. So-so much.

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Kirishima is really happy for his best friend, but he is also mentally scarred.

It was only a few days ago when he accidentally walked in on his best friend and his assistant having a heated sparring session with their tongues; he will never forget seeing Y/N’s hands almost completely down Katsuki’s pants while his blonde bestie was busy squeezing the shit out of her thighs on his office desk.

Now look, Kirishima knows this is his fault; he’s the one who hired Y/N just to keep himself entertained, knowing the two will be at each other’s throats most of the time, making a mess in the office as they both have the same personality and none of them knows how to back down. It really has started as a really expensive joke. What Kirishima didn’t expect was to watch those two fall for each other in the middle of their heated arguments. It was so fucking obvious yet so unbelievable, but Kirishima then decided to push them to their limits and actually made it happen; he came up with the stupid idea of closing the two in the same hotel room for a few days for a mission, but Kirishima’s joke almost cost both of their lives; the suspect ended up to be Y/N’s biggest enemy who’s been waiting to get revenge on her for arresting his gang buddies a few years ago.

Long story short, the drama escalated, Katsuki got quirked with a quirk called “Anguish” which basically made him extremely depressed and suicidal for a day and he was saved by a massive bitch slap and a ferocious kiss by the love of his life; kinda like in the cheesy romantic movies Kirishima adores. Kirishima is absolutely not jealous. Not at all.

Also, Y/N became a great friend to Kirishima during her employment; she’s a fierce, honest woman from abroad, beautiful, proud and intelligent. She’s also an amazing (currently) ex-hero who got wounded in a massive fight for her country and had to step down completely after almost losing her life. She was bedridden for months, unable to eat, shower or do anything alone and even after getting better she was forced to stay far away from actual hero work for a while, hence why she decided to join a hero agency as an assistant; this kept her close to her dream in a safe way and also let her live in her favorite country.

Kirishima will never forget Bakugou’s face when he realized Y/N was the number one hero of her country while Katsuki was stuck at number 2 thanks to Deku. They had a spar which ended up being more like a foreplay than an actual battle but Y/N won anyway; she has the most OP quirk the world has ever seen. She can activate any quirk she can come up with and alternate it in any way or use multiple quirks at once if she concentrates on them enough. Like what the fuck man, that’s cheating.

So yeah, Y/N is a great friend of Kirishima and he’s really happy for his friends but he will never get over Katsuki’s horny face that’s for sure.

But…

After that one incident on their first day of being a couple, the two… well… they went back to their normal selves. And Kirishima is really bloody confused.

“The fuck are you yapping about you fucking extra?!” Katsuki yells, his eyes piercing through the skull of this poor guy who works as a side kick at the agency. Kirishima can’t lie, Mizuto isn’t his favorite guy either, he’s sensitive and overdramatic but he hid it really well at the interview. Kirishima hates himself for putting these two in the same meeting room instead of doing two separate meetings, one with the bosses (and Y/N) and one with the extras, as Katsuki likes to call them.

“I’m saying that your leading techniques are harsh and rude and I don’t appreciate you talking down on me!” He yells and Katsuki stands up; he gets pulled back to his chair by Y/N.

“Shut the fuck up, the both of you, I have a migraine!”

“Then go the fuck home…” Katsuki can’t finish his sentence as Y/N randomly creates a spray bottle full of water and sprays the hero on the side of his face; the way some stupid people do with cats when they misbehave. Letting Y/N meet Momo Yaozoru was another terrible mistake of Kirishima’s. Katsuki does not appreciate the gesture and throws an explosion at Y/N but she deflects it with a mirroring quirk; Katsuki moves away and the explosion hits the window and blasts through it.

Great. They need to change the windows again. Kirishima really thought that with these two getting together, all the aggression will fade away but apparently that’s not the case; are they even together or did they just have a moment which Kirishima awkwardly interrupted? Kirishima was sure they are a couple, especially as none of them moved away from each other when he found them in each other’s arms.

He needs to investigate.

After the meeting and a phone call to the maintenance - they don’t even ask questions anymore, they just give them a full day long appointment because they know them so well by now - Kirishima asks Katsuki to come to his office for a quick “catch up”. Katsuki does not appreciate being called into the office like a fucking extra, especially as they are supposed to be co-leading the agency but Kiri only smiles in Katsuki’s pouting face.

“Bro, I just called you here to gossip. I wanted to know what happened after I left that day.” Kirishima winks and Katsuki looks away with a massive blush on his face. He’s fucking adorable.

“Nothing. I went home.” Honestly, this guy is a pain in the ass. Why can’t he take a hint?!

“So… did you kiss since?”

“No.”

“Uhm…” Kirishima wonders what the fuck should he say to that. ‘Did you fuck’ just doesn’t sound right. “So you two are not…?” Kirishima can’t finish the sentence as an explosion hits his face. He should have seen that coming. His eyes sting now.

“Do you have a crush on my girlfriend or what?!” Katsuki yells and Kirishima grins; it takes a few seconds for the blonde to realize what he’d just said; his face contorts into a frown and sits back, mumbling profanities to no one in particular.

“I got all the information I wanted. You are dismissed. Congratulations!” Kirishima’s shit eating grin can be seen even from the moon, that’s how massive it is.

Ahh, young love.

“Fuck you.” Katsuki mumbles and leaves the office, almost breaking his door for the 700th time. Ahh, never mind, the maintenance guys will probably have a spare with them anyway.

~•💥•~

You are on your last few bits of paperwork when a bewildered Katsuki comes into your shared office.

“What.”

Katsuki throws himself into his chair, he rolls around like a kid, left to right then in circles before he answers. He’s so fucking adorable. Goddamnit.

“Kirishima is in my ass, asking stupid questions about you.” He pouts and you laugh; Katsuki doesn’t like to be laughed at so he sends a tiny spark towards you, not even strong enough to travel to the right destination.

“I can help you forget the conversation.” You wink jokingly, but your boyfriend only rolls his eyes. There is a slight a blush on his face he can’t really hide, but by the look of it, he doesn’t want to anyway.

“Which part of ‘taking it slow’ do you not understand, you bloody woman?” Katsuki yells but there is no edge to his voice; for anyone else this would sound offensive, but for you, it just sounds pained; he’s clearly still getting used to all of this and while you can barely stop yourself from kissing him senseless every day, you can absolutely understand him.

“I know. I won’t do anything you don’t want. Calm down.” You murmur, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible to not freak your brand new boyfriend out.

“I’ve never said I don’t want it. I just want to take it slow.”

Well, that sentence went straight between your legs. No one can judge you for being like that after dancing around each other for literal months. It’s the honeymoon phase. It will pass.

“C’mere.” Katsuki grunts and you jump up from your desk to walk towards your boyfriend. He manhandles you into his lap while snuggling his face into your chest and sighs. You can only hope he can’t feel the way you shivered all over from the hotness of his breath.

“Better?” You ask, faking nonchalance.

“No, I hate it. Makes me feel all tingly wiggly and shit. Relationships suck.” He murmurs and you can’t stop the laugh bubbling up in your chest.

“Yeah, me too. I hate it so much. It’s terrible.” You bite your lips to stop yourself from laughing and the blonde looks up at you, arching his eyebrows in disapproval.

“Don’t make that face. I hate it.” He grumbles, but you can see how his eyes light up as he looks down; he licks his lips while staring at yours but he doesn’t move towards you; you really want to tackle this man and kiss some sense into him. “Now go away, I need to finish the paperwork.”

Well, you are dismissed now! You go back to your desk, giggling to yourself like a lovesick teenager; he’s so fucking cute. Oh my god, since when are you such a sap?!

“How long will you be staring at me?” Katsuki mumbles begrudgingly.

“I can do this all day.”

He tries his best to look offended but you can’t miss the way his mouth quirks up as he shamelessly ignores you for the rest of the day.

Well, this will be a long run but fuck if it’s not worth it for those small smiles only you can see.

Maybe one day, it won’t be so hard to initiate contact with him. One day, you might be able to give him a kiss without being told off for it. That day is not today though but that’s fine; he can take as much time as he needs because you’ll be there, waiting for him. If you need to, you’ll wait for him forever.

“Thanks… Y/N.” He mumbles with a red face but doesn’t look up from his laptop; you smile to yourself and doesn’t answer; you don’t need to. He knows you well enough to know what your answer would be anyway.

You really love this fucking madman.

…Next chapter!

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Potato ramble:

- Welcome to the ‘potato ramble’ section of the ficc. This is where are I talk to myself while you roll your eyes at home thinking ‘I ain’t got time for your shit, fella.” I’ll ramble about the story or about a random things you don’t want to/need to know about the writer. I’ll try to behave.

- Sorry if there’s barely anything new in this chapter, this is more like a chapter 0 than a chapter one and it also gives you a brief recap in case you have the brain capacity of a goldfish as I do and you forget the main story by the time you get to the second season. Yeah, sorry. I hope you still enjoyed it though!

- The “I can do this all day” bit was a Captain America reference.

- If there’s anything you want to see in this ficc, let me know and I might use your idea!

- About the potential cheekiness in the ficc… please tell me what do you prefer. Brief mentions of their cheeky deeds? Detailed first time? Nothing? Potatoes? French fries or mashed? Or should I just write about Katsuki’s pigeon, Steve? Tell me your thoughts because I honestly don’t know what I want to do. 😂

- YES, I’m sleep deprived right now, how did you know?!

- I’ll shut up for today, I think I confused you enough for one day. Have a lovely week!

Likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated! 💥

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Taglist: @iwannahaveaprettyaesthetic @hanatsuki-hime @cloroxisadelectabletreat @cheesenmax @coffeent @smolsleepybat @sixxze

(If you’ve been tagged but it’s not working, check your settings because I couldn’t tag you for some reason 😭)

[sidekick-hero]

first line tag/writing patterns ✍🏼

i got tagged by my dear schwester in spirit, @yournowheregirl as well as the talented @maxinemaxmayfield, my friend @starryeyedjanai, the lovely @augustjustice and the wonderful @penny00dreadful💜💜💜💜💜 (thank you all so so much and sorry, work is eating my spoons so I'm super late)

RULES: post the first lines of your last 10 fics/chapters posted on AO3 (if you have less than 10 fics posted, post the first lines of all your fics) and try to draw some conclusions

Cheesy "Steeeeeeve! Steven! I’m starving! You have to save me from the cruel clutches of death by buying us a pizza. But you must hurry—I don’t have much time left."

If I only could, make a deal with God Watching Vecna burn is even more satisfying than Steve ever imagined, though the stench of burning flesh makes his stomach twist.

when all you are is a weapon After Starcourt, after Billy, after too many concussions and more trauma than anyone should endure, Steve found himself relying on weed to calm his nerves and help him sleep.

In Loving Memory “Good afternoon, Mr. Harrington. My name is Elizabeth Quinn, and I’m part of the cabin crew today. Thank you for choosing to fly with us. I hope you're enjoying your flight so far.”

I'm in the corner, watching you kiss her Eddie had sworn to himself that he was done being a coward.

I’ve got a ghost in the hallway grinning "You are such a charmer, big boy. Oh, wow, your eyes are so blue; it's like looking at the ocean. I can't believe she let you get to second base after that line."

I think I love you, still "Steve, come on."

Dear Future Self Eddie used to hate summer, despised everything about it.

my heart's desire: you Eddie never expected much from life, if he was honest.

Baby, come home No one told Eddie that having all your dreams come true could feel so… shitty.

So, I slightly favor Steve's POV (6/10). I seem to like starting with dialogue (4/10) and am seemingly undecided between long and short sentences to start (5/10 each). Not much else I can detect so far.

Tagging a few dear writer friends: @hbyrde36, @just-my-latest-hyperfixation, @runninriot, @pearynice and @frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe (no pressure just love and if you already done this I'm sorry I'm a bit out of the loop 🙈)

[fullsunsets]

Thanks to @jmagnabo92 @myheartalivewrites @henryspearl @iboatedhere @thesleepyskipper for tagging me

To celebrate hitting 50k words in my RBB fic, I will be sharing one of my favorite moments ever.

How a wonderful, funny, kind, and handsome man like Henry Fox is spending Valentine’s day all alone with his annoying straight friend and not on some romantic ass date is beyond comprehension for Alex.

“I honestly don’t understand how you’re still single,” Alex blurts out and Henry freezes midway through grabbing the last can of beer.

“I— well…” Henry tries to start, but he keeps opening and closing his mouth like a blobfish. And Alex might have lost count of how much he has been drinking because he finds Henry’s whole reaction cute.

“It’s just… You’re such a cool guy and honestly, the fact that no guy has snagged you for a date, today of all days, feels so wrong to me. They have no idea what they are missing,” the filter between his racing thoughts and his mouth is already faulty when sober, so there is no surprise it’s nonexistent when he’s drunk. 

Henry looks at him surprised, almost as if he is trying to make sense of the scene playing in front of him. “I honestly don’t mind, the holiday is so commercialized anyway. I’m——”

“H, I’m not dumb,” he turns to his friend and they are currently staring at each other, “You are a hopeless romantic who dreams of the day you’ll get your love story worthy for an Austen heroine. And while I am sad to inform you that you are not an Austen heroine, but Mr. Darcy, my point that you are a sucker for love still stands. You deserve being knocked off your fucking feet, someone to take you to some fancy ass restaurant, to take you around the Smithsonian and hear you go on your cute little rants, baby. And the fact that no guy has given you that, fucking pisses me off. Instead, you are stuck with me getting piss drunk while we watch Star Wars and argue about which movie is better for the umpteenth time,” he looks at Henry straight in the eyes, hoping he gets Henry to see he deserves so much better. 

“Alex, I didn’t know you were hating spending the night with me that much,” Henry teases, but at this point, Alex has become almost an expert in reading him and can see the tension in his shoulders.

Almost as if he actually believes what he just said, and that just breaks Alex.

“That’s not what I’m trying to say, asshole!” he glares at him and Henry chuckles, “No, H, I’m so serious right now, you have no idea. This is the best night ever, and I will never take this for granted. But you deserve the world! The point is that you should be out having cheesy-ass dates with the love of your life instead of being stuck with your straight friend who is too annoying to get himself a date.”

“So if you had a date for today you would have dumped me?” Henry jokes, but then Alex freezes.

He never told Henry about the girl who tried to ask him out last Saturday after trivia night. She was cute and even Nora pointed out she looked like Alex’s type, although he doesn’t know where she gets that his type is blond. They dated and Nora is very much not a blond. However, he already had made plans with Henry and he didn’t want to leave him all alone on Valentine's day. At least that’s what he told Nora and his sister, but he can’t shake off the way they looked at him, as if he was the dumbest person they know. 

And honestly, he probably is, because who turns down a date to hang out with their friend. Someone he has only been calling a friend for a few weeks.

Yet, Alex doesn’t care if he and Henry have only been friends since late January or for 5 years. That's his best friend right there. He doesn’t care what Nora has to say about it. He’s allowed to have two best friends.

“No,” he admits and Henry’s eyes widen, “I already made a promise to you and I don’t break them.”

Tags: @theprinceandagcd @luainthewild @benwvatt @onetwistedmiracle + open tag