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alwaysxlarrie · 2 years ago

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my fav fics masterlist part 1 (A-M)

i’m currently procrastinating learning autocad & editing youtube videos, so here i am. this post is long bc of the format of the summaries - sorry about that, wanted to keep them formatted how the authors had them! anyway, this is all my fav fics, alphabetically. this is part 1. part 2 will be coming...at some point. grab a snack, grab a beverage & settle in friends. :)

as small as possible by mickey_d

“Harry is a rather shy omega who's quite convinced everyone (except his best friends) laughs at him behind his back and sometimes to his face.

Louis is a confident alpha who is taken with his best artist's friend.”

a million roses (bathed in rock n’ roll) by deLILAh

“au. harry sings in smoky dive bars; louis misses his flight home. they go to coney island in the morning.

(aka - harry is lana del rey, and louis makes him a star.)”

adore you by @isthatyoularry

““We invited our new acquaintances from uptown. You’ve simply got to meet their oldest son!” said his mother with a flourish, and suddenly it became abundantly clear as to why his parents had so adamantly demanded he join them in Deansville for the entirety of the summer.

Against his wishes, Harry spends the holidays at his family’s summer estate, and is reluctantly pulled into a courtship he didn’t ask for. Harry doesn’t want to get married, but Louis does. They don’t fit, but then again they really, really do.

Vaguely set in the 1920’s. Headpieces, jazz, fashionable canes, and flapper dresses, and that.”

are you taking clients? by @jaerie

“Escaping had been the hardest thing Harry had ever done. They'd stolen his child and nearly stolen his life. Being homeless and pregnant gave Harry few options. It's a last resort to let men fetishize his body, but the luxury of choice is something Harry doesn't have.”

and the truth shall set you free... by @jaerie

“Betism: A religion based on the belief that the beta gender has been chosen by God to protect and defend the purity and dignity of the human race by resisting and condemning the lustful ways and flawed biology of the alpha and omega”

ain’t that a kick in the head! by @karasunonolibero and keysmashlesbian

““Well.” Niall unlocks his phone. “It wasn’t getting the traction I wanted on Snapchat. So…I tweeted it.”

What.

“You tweeted it,” Harry states, nearing a state of brain dead. “To your ten thousand followers.”

Niall nods, handing Harry the phone. “You’re a meme, Harry.”

“I’m a what?”

“A meme. It’s like an internet—”

“I know what a fucking meme is, Niall! Why did you make me into one?”

Niall has the fucking balls to cackle at that while Harry looks at the mess his former friend created. Videos of him screaming at Tomlinson about Tide Pods and his ass are being quoted and combined with memes to a create a level of memeception Harry has never seen before. That isn’t even including the thousands of tweets of him falling up the stairs remixed with random Top 40 songs.

In which Harry’s a disaster gay who doesn’t know shit about soccer, Liam drinks too many blue raspberry Coolattas, Niall knows everyone, Zayn looks dead, and Louis is Not Happy about sharing his breakout moment with “Drunk Hawaiian Guy.””

atlas at last by louisandthealien

“He doesn’t know what he had been expecting out of the road trip itself besides burping contests and too much shitty gas station food with Oli and Stan, but in the brief moment before Harry ambles up his driveway, Louis idly wonders if this is about to become some sort of Gay Coming of Age story.

Maine to California in ten days. In which Zayn’s an open-shirt hippie they meet somewhere in Ohio, Liam’s the pastor’s son running away from home, and Niall’s the number they call on the bathroom wall.

It’s 1978. Harry and Louis are just trying to get to San Fran in time for the Queen concert.”

all i want is to fall with you by @2tiedships2

“The pair looked at each other for a few moments before Harry moved forward and gathered Louis in an unexpected hug.

It was nice, but why the fuck was an unknown alpha hugging him? Maybe an even better question would be why did Louis feel so secure in this stranger's arms?

Harry quickly let go and Louis felt something pull at him.

"Sorry," Harry said, holding his hands up in surrender. "Shit, um, that just seemed a natural response for some reason. I’m so sorry."

Louis smiled up at the alpha. "It's okay. Thanks again, Harry."

"You're welcome. I know it's horrible weather, and less than optimal circumstances, but this was a brilliant meet-cute."

What the fuck was a meet-cute?

Or the weekend ski trip where omega Louis discovers that he can’t change a tire and his skiing skills are debatable but still manages to find the alpha who will change his life.”

ask and i’ll obey by orphan account

““So, tell me what you want?” The younger boy demanded, and Louis’ mind filled with inappropriate images of Harry. Everything to do with Harry.

“I…” He couldn’t think. Could barely breathe, and his dick was so fucking hard in his track pants he didn’t know why Harry wasn’t pointing it out.

“You…have to do whatever I say for a whole day.” Louis blurted out.

“Deal.” Harry said without missing a beat, his green eyes shining like the light in The Great Gatsby. His easy agreement had Louis groaning, because Harry already did whatever Louis told him to do.

Or, the one where Harry and Louis challenge each other not to get off to see who will break first.”

and that’s the tea by @2tiedships2

“I’d like an Earl Grey with milk and sugar, please.

Louis had the phrase memorized, even though it had disappeared off its place on his upper arm over thirteen years ago now.

At fourteen he didn’t understand. Soulmarks don’t just disappear. Not unless…

Unless one of them dies.

Or, the one where Louis loses his soulmate before even getting the chance to meet them, and he is in no way prepared for the kind of distraction his new friend Harry proves to be.”

a cauldron of love by @zimriya

““Oh for Merlin’s sake, yes,” Niall interrupts finally. “Harry’s been in love with Louis Tomlinson since that time in second year when he went and accidentally peed on him.”

Harry turns to face him, horrified. “Niall!” he squeaks out. “You promised you wouldn’t tell anyone about that!”

Niall just shrugs and wipes his mouth with a napkin. “Aw, come off it, Hazza, was it really a secret?” When Harry doesn’t say anything, he pauses and looks up. “It was?” he says. “Ah, bollocks.””

a fully armed battalion (to remind you of my love) by @mediawhorefics

““He was flirting with you by the way,” Niall says casually once he’s finished saying goodbye to Louis and he’s joined Harry outside.

“No he wasn’t,” Harry replies automatically, feeling his heart clench at the thought. Was he?

Niall simply raises a mocking eyebrow in response before wrapping his scarf twice around his neck.

“Not that it matters!” Harry says quickly, eyes widening. “I wouldn’t care even if he did because he’s awful and the worst.”

Everyone at Hogwarts knows that Professor Styles and Professor Tomlinson absolutely despise each other. It's too bad that they're in love.”

all your mates are here by @londonfoginacup

“"The pack is... It's folding, Harry."

Like every werewolf does when they get to a new town, Harry joined one of the many local packs when he started university. Now, three years into his program, he's hit with the news that his pack is giving up, going their separate ways. In the wake of the holidays, the three single wolves from the Majestic pack are pointed in the direction of a new pack to join; one that's got struggles of its own.

A new pack, a new house, and two new roommates with personal space issues... Plus exams, of course.

Happy Christmas, here's to many more.”

a cage for every ugly spirit by @povverbottoms

“First-year uni student Harry gives up orgasms for Lent, featuring a cock cage and weekly prostate milkings on Sundays. Warning for religion kink. Written for the 1D Novena Ficathon.”

at last, at last by @suspendrs

““Come with us,” Tommo says, stopping at the other end of the gymnasium, near the doors. “Don’t let them make you suffer any longer. Come with us, and be human.”

Before Harry has even finished thinking it through, he’s on his feet, gaining the attention of every single person in the gymnasium. What has he got to lose, anyway?

Or, Harry is born into a cult in a post-apocalyptic world, and Louis is the leader of the rebel group tasked with the mission of shutting them down. Together, they make a rather effective team.”

all we have by colourexplosion

“He looks at the person who’s asked him a question and then immediately wishes he hadn’t. He’s beautiful, is the thing, and Harry’s met him before.

“No, sorry,” he says, shaking his head, averting his eyes. It’s an old habit, one he’s gotten better about resisting, but he supposes seeing Louis Tomlinson out in the wild transports him right back to youth club.

“Ah, s’fine really,” Louis says, instead of just walking away like a normal person, “Pretty boy like you shouldn’t be smoking anyway, yeah?”

Harry’s cheeks flood with heat before he can stop it, and he squeezes his eyes shut. Of course. Of course Louis Tomlinson — the boy who basically made Harry realize he’s gay — thinks he’s cute now. Ten years after the fact, and much too late for it to do any good at all. Or, a 'Grown' au”

a million one, a million two (a million more will never do) by @littlelostpieces

“While Harry doesn’t want to spend his final year at Wilshire Academy sharing his space with yet another idiot roommate, he figures he could have ended up with a lot worse than Niall. As the school’s newest scholarship student, Niall provides a fresh perspective on Harry’s privileged life, as well as a grounding presence when Harry’s other friends, Liam and Zayn, are acting like lunatics. Most importantly, though, Niall introduces him to Louis, a cynical townie with zero interest in spending his time around entitled boarding school kids. Convincing Louis that he’s more than a trust fund and a charming smile won’t be easy, but Harry’s never been one to back down from a challenge.

An AU loosely inspired by the short-lived WB drama, Young Americans, and the Gotta Be You music video.”

a life that we share (i owe it all to you) by @all-these-larrythings

“When Harry's son came home from school crying he didn't think things could get any worse. Lucky for them, things were just about to change for the best.

Harry's son get bullied until Louis' son shows up :)”

all the right moves by @cherrystreet

“This is the third game in a row that Harry has been distracted by the noisy boy in the stands, five rows back.

There’s really no reason that he should feel compelled to stare into the audience as frequently as he is, but he can’t help it. This boy is a nuisance. And he’s loud. Even from basketball court with nine other players running by him, shoes squeaking on the shiny hardwood floor, and thousands of cheering college students, Harry can hear this boy nearly shrieking, his laugh more like a cackle than anything.

It’s seriously obnoxious.”

boys fall like dominoes by orphan account

“Harry slips into an early heat while riding the tube. Naturally, that's when he meets Louis.”

baby we could be enough (i’ll make this feel like home) by orphan account

““Did you clean the table?” Harry asks Louis once Rose is done speaking, now occupied with trying to see if she can reach over and touch Harry’s hair from where she’s sat. At Louis’ nod, Harry frowns. “You didn’t have to do that. You’re my guests here, I could’ve dealt with it later.”

Louis just smiles easily, though, adjusting Rose on his lap so that she’s facing Harry better. She manages to tug on a loose wave of hair, and she makes a noise of triumph that both Louis and Harry smile at.

“I don’t mind,” Louis murmurs to Harry, even though he’s looking at Rose. “This one here seemed very excited to talk to you.”

And, okay. Harry can’t help but think of how domestic this feels, all of a sudden.

[harry is a photographer who's trying to find his place. louis is a single father with a smile that feels like home.]”

but if you close your eyes does it almost feel like by pukeandcry

“Marcel’s not sure what the draw is for Louis, but he finds himself looking forward to it, glancing out into the hall several times an hour to see if Louis might be walking by. Louis is just -- he’s magnetic, like he’s got his own gravitational field around him, and it makes Marcel’s stomach jump around nervously just being around him, but it only takes him a few days to realize how much he likes that feeling, the hitch in his chest he gets when he spots Louis across the office and smiles at him.”

burn this flame by @rainbowninja

““You’ve played keeper before?” Tomlinson asks suspiciously, hands on his waist.“

Er, yeah,” Harry coughs. “Loads of times.”

“Alright Popstar, if you’re sure,” Tomlinson tells him with a shrug, his professional expression already curling into laughter. Harry tries not to read too much into it. After all, how hard can goalkeeping really be?

When Harry gets invited to play in a celebrity charity match with Louis Tomlinson, Manchester United's star player, he's determined to impress him with brilliant football skills. The only flaw in Harry's otherwise foolproof plan? He has absolutely no football skills, brilliant or otherwise.”

but why wonder, why wonder? by @100percentsassy

“The one where Marcel Styles has improbably landed a job in the fashion industry, and Louis Tomlinson is the actor-turned-lingerie-designer he’s been infatuated with for years.”

babydoll blues by @thedevilinmybrain

“Louis is a high profile, filthy rich label executive who has the world at his feet - a music god.. Harry is the sugar baby trying to make a name for himself singing in shady bars and hanging off the arm of Louis' biggest rival. What Louis wants, Louis gets. But what if the game gets too hot and hits a little too close to the heart?”

back to seventeen by @ireallysawanangel

“As a first grade teacher in a small town in Illinois, Harry’s life is pretty simple. He loves his job, is close with his family, and has a best friend he would go to the ends of the earth for. When a new soccer coach starts at the local high school, things start to get a bit more exciting for Harry. Because that coach just happens to be Louis Tomlinson; the guy Harry was unrequitedly in love with in high school.

Or the one where Louis moves back to his hometown and Harry realizes he’s still not over his high school crush.”

business or pleasure by therogueskimo

“Boss: Know why I called you in here? Employee: Because I accidentally sent you a dick pic. Boss: (stops pouring 2 glasses of wine) Accidentally?

or the one where Harry sends a snapchat to the wrong person, who just so happens to be Louis Tomlinson, aka his boss.”

baby shut your mouth and turn me inside out by ballsdeepinjesus

“And it’s good. It’s really, really good. Except they haven’t really talked about any of this and Harry can’t muster the courage to bring it up. Niall’s words at the bar run through his mind nearly every day. Fresh meat. Is this a thing Louis does, then? Find a toy to play with for awhile until he gets bored?

He knows Louis, though. He’s been friends with him for months now and he knows that he’s not just some heartless asshole. But he doesn’t know if this is just a nice convenient hook-up to him or something more, like how Harry feels. And he knows he should ask, but he’s not brave enough. Not brave enough to possibly ruin everything when Harry can take what he’s being offered without complaints.

[harry and louis meet in a mcdonalds. louis is everything harry needs.]”

be my little good luck charm by @100percentsassy

“In which Harry is a promising amateur golfer making his debut at the PGA Championship, and Louis is a Sky Sports anchor who would really rather be commentating on footie.

The other boys are around too: caddy!Niall provides victory pints, Liam is Louis's Very Serious co-anchor, and poor Zayn just gets his face drawn on.”

baby thinking of you keeps me up all night by ballsdeepinjesus

“Louis sputters in response, shaking his head wildly. Harry moves closer, placing his hand on Louis’ chest and trailing it up towards his neck to curve around. “I am younger than you. Bet you like that. Think you can push me around.”

Louis fishmouths, glaring at Harry who reminds him suspiciously of a shark at the moment. He smells blood in the water.

“Is that what this is about, Louis?” Harry asks. He leans in and fits his mouth against Louis’ earlobe, huffing hot breaths into his ear. “You want to fuck me, don’t you?”

[harry is a 19 y/o singer and louis is a 29 y/o actor with no love for teenage popstars.]”

but when we kiss... by @indiaalphawhiskey

“Louis only nodded, still smiling. “Right, okay. As much fun as this has been, I really doubt the lovely heated seating of my car will dull our banter. Or...” he dragged out the ‘r’, eyes mischievous. “Are you really going to let a…” he assessed Harry. “Twenty? Twenty year gap,” he confirmed. “Be the reason you get hypothermia? Is that really the hill you want to freeze on, Mr. Principled?”

–– Or, while Harry and Louis adore the chase, they find they adore each other much, much more.”

boom, boom, don’t you wanna go by anonymous

“It doesn't take much to convince Harry to participate in Lambda Sig's annual ceremony for graduating seniors. She's hooked up with a few of the brothers already anyway, as lackluster as they were. She has to have her legs and bare bottom half on display for the rest of the brothers in the senior class to see, but she's always kind of liked being played with and definitely likes being on display. She's graduating in a few weeks anyway. What's the worst that can happen?

She doesn't expect contestant number fifteen to blow her mind in the first round. He doesn't let up.”

caught in your gravity by @lululawrence

“It felt like the blood froze in Harry’s veins even as he got a bit lightheaded. He hadn’t even made it two practices, only one of which he was remotely in charge of, without giving it all away and now he and Liam were both absolutely fucked.

“Shit,” Harry breathed out. “Who all have you told? Does everyone know? I thought I covered it better than that…”

“No, no,” Louis said quickly. "They’ll figure it out soon enough, though, because they’ll get used to you changing things up, but you’re only going to trip over your so called Americanisms for so long before they realize it’s because you don’t actually know fuck all about football.”

Harry sighed. “Yeah. I figured. I just need to bullshit for long enough to allow Liam to get the situation figured out from his end.”

“Right, which brings me to my entire point. I think we can find a mutually beneficial arrangement with all of this.” Louis leaned forward. “You need to learn the ins and outs of the sport incredibly fast. I can help you with that.”

“What do you want in exchange?”

Or, an AU inspired by a 30 second trailer of Ted Lasso that doesn't actually have much in common with the show at all.”

counting the steps between us by zarah5

“AU. So, yeah. That year abroad helped Harry establish that he is in love with his best friend. Now, if Louis would stop treating him like a little brother, that would be awesome. (Additional ingredients: a collapsing tree house, a lot of pining, the other three boys as Louis' new best mates from university, and a camping trip. Serve hot.)”

come in and change my life by @lightwoodsmagic

“He’d had the same neighbours since he’d moved into the building, a lovely, wealthy couple in their late sixties who had always invited him around for tea on Sundays. Martha had dropped off homemade biscuits the day he’d moved in, so Harry figured he may as well repeat the sentiment. He could hear someone getting closer to the door just as a flush ran through his body; oh fuck. His heat was close, too close to be knocking on a potentially unknown alpha’s door, but it was too late. The door swung open, and Harry’s mouth dropped. He’d never been overly interested in football, couldn’t find the fascination in watching men run around after a ball for hours aside from their uniforms, but he knew who this was. Louis Tomlinson, alpha, captain of Manchester United, star in a number of Harry’s heat addled fantasies, was his new next-door neighbour.

Or, Harry and Louis become friends when Harry looks after Louis' cat during away games, until one night at a party changes everything between them. It's just a shame Louis' going to be away for the FIFA World Cup for three months.”

cookie jar by fanshae

“Louis catches Harry with his hand in the metaphorical cookie jar and stays to watch.”

counterculture by @sadaveniren

“It all culminated to this: Harry in the middle of a crowded basement, music blasting from the live show on the far side, shirtless amongst alphas and omegas who all weren’t covering their scents. He took a deep breath of the heavy air and he felt alive.”

convalescent boy (with a heart of gold) by @londonfoginacup

“Just as the professor beginning to mess with his powerpoint, the door at the back of the balcony creaks open and Marcel looks back to notice Louis Tomlinson, The Louis Tomlinson, slip in and take a seat in the very back.

Marcel is starting to feel like his life is a comedy. Only yesterday was Louis Tomlinson on his floor at the library. Now he’s in his seminar. What is happening?

“Hey Mars,” Nick says, not particularly quietly as he leans over. “Isn’t that your crush?”

Marcel smacks him.

Or, the one where Marcel is a nerd who loves to learn but loves to go to theatre productions even more, and may or may not have a long time crush on the lead in most of the plays, Louis Tomlinson. The same Louis Tomlinson who seems to be appearing wherever Marcel is. Funny, that.”

drape me in your warmth by @husbandau

“TMH era fic where Harry is an omega whose heat comes a little earlier than expected and really, who is Louis to deny him his knot?”

deep in my heart i know there’s only you by ballsdeepinjesus

“"Will you do it?” Harry whispers. Louis has to lean closer just to hear him. He furrows his brows and shakes his head, not knowing what Harry means. “Would you donate for me?”

Louis is dumbfounded. “I’m sorry, I thought you just asked if I’d donate my sperm. Can you repeat yourself?”

[harry and louis are best friends who engage in some platonic baby-making. very platonic.]”

don’t move in (don’t move out) by @2tiedships2

“Only one more week and Harry would be living under the same roof. Gone would be Liam’s alpha scent, quickly replaced with Harry’s. All Harry. Louis was going to fucking die. You’d think Louis would be used to it by now, that Harry’s scent would simply fade into the background like Liam’s did. But Louis had a feeling he would simultaneously be living in Heaven and Hell once Harry moved in.

Louis was pulled out of his thoughts when Niall smacked him on the back of his head.

"The fuck was that for?" Louis asked, rubbing his head and looking at the bloody Irishman he called his other best friend.

"You were basically drooling, mate,” Niall said. “That was a courtesy smack to keep your daydreaming from seeping into your pheromones."”

do you like my sweater? by @icanhazzalou

““Look, for a Sadie Hawkins dance the omegas are supposed to invite the alphas instead of the other way around.”

Niall and Liam shared a look. “That… sounds like the sort of thing you would usually be all over, Lou,” Liam said, face pinched in confusion. Niall nodded his agreement.

“Yeah, if omegas were hosting it,” Louis replied sourly. “It’s one thing if we decide that we’re going to ask the alphas for a change. It’s insulting that they think we need their permission.”

When Harry's alpha fraternity decides to host a Sadie Hawkins dance, outspoken omega Louis has a thing or two to say about it.”

don’t have to go to the pool by @kingsoftheimpossible

“Louis is the captain of the swim team, Harry is in love with him a bit, and there's this ritual before Big Meets. Everything goes fine. alternative summary: a suspicious lack of swimming for a story involving a swim team.”

dom louis by @comebackassholes (summary is from first work in the series)

“Dear Mr. Louis, Hello. I’m Harry. I got your contact from a good friend of mine and was wondering if I can get your services. My 30th birthday is coming up and all I’ve ever wanted is to get spanked, maybe more? If you’re interested, please contact me. I’d love to hear from you. Sincerely, Harry Marcel reads over the words. He guesses there isn’t a much better way to ask for what he needs. He almost changes the name again but decides Harry is fine. It’s generic and nothing that can be traced to him. At least he doesn’t think so. Okay, he’s overthinking again so he clicks the send button before he can talk himself out of it. His heart races as soon as he does. He almost wants to take it back, figure out a way to undo it, but he takes a big gulp of his wine to calm down. It’s fine. This is fine. He can do this.”

do not falter (there’s a star ahead) by @londonfoginacup

“It's Christmas Eve, and every single one of Louis' family members are crowded inside his little flat. Really, what more could he ask for on his birthday?

The present he never knew he wanted - in the form of an omega from his past - might just make this his most memorable Christmas.”

enjoy the ride by @2tiedships2

““Stop sulking and get up. I have a proposition to make.”

“Niall?” Louis questioned. “Do you think I should put glow in the dark stars on my ceiling?”

He looked over and found Niall giving him an unimpressed look.

“So, no?” Louis asked. “No stars?”

“We’re going on a road trip,” Niall stated.

Louis looked back at his starless ceiling and waved farewell to Niall. “Cool. Have fun!”

“No, you idiot.” Niall let out a frustrated sigh. “You, me, Liam, and Harry.”

Louis glanced over to Niall and back to the ceiling. “Who’s Harry?”

Or the one where Louis, an omega more than tired of being treated as lesser than alphas, is forced on a road trip by his beta besties only to meet Harry who might just be the alpha he never knew he wanted.”

even as young as you are by ologist

“Harry’s sister has a baby. When he goes to meet her, he finds more than one new love of his life at the hospital.”

everywhere and nowhere by @2tiedships2

“Niall took a seat and said, "Apparently Louis' downstairs neighbor is a fan of giving Louis creepy gifts. Maybe I should go introduce myself and tell him that Louis actually prefers food."

"What has he given you?" Liam asked.

Louis shrugged as it were no big deal. "There was a rabbit's foot keychain on the door a little after he left from introducing himself and there was a small teddy bear sitting by my door tonight. Obviously I can't prove it's from him, but they seem to have his scent. I could be wrong though."

"Wow," Liam said, looking deep in thought. "That's old school."

"What's old school?" Niall asked. "Giving creepy gifts?"

"I've never known an alpha to do it, to be honest, but he's courting you."

Louis couldn't contain his look of disbelief directed at Liam. "He's courting me. Like some sort of romantic shit they'd do in the 1800s or something?"”

from eight until late, i think about you by supernope

“After finding out that his University of Brighton roommate has a YouTube channel, Harry starts up his own channel, on which he posts videos of himself doing weekly challenges. He strikes up a friendship with Louis, a popular youtuber in London, that starts in the comments on their videos and progresses to texting, skyping, and talking about each other in their own videos far too often. They fall for each other long-distance, but put off meeting face-to-face as long as possible, too nervous that they'll screw it all up.

Involves a bunch of YouTube challenges (AKA excuses for Harry to get naked), some awkward snapchat mishaps, and a whole lot of pining.”

face your fears by @sadaveniren

“Harry is a single father, pretending to be a beta after his alpha mated him and left him. He’s getting by just fine raising the twins when Louis walks into his bakery. Too bad him and Louis will never be a thing.”

foolishly, completely falling by dea_liberty

“"Now that he’s actually gone and done it, there seems to be no way of going back - no rinse and repeat, no ctrl+alt+del, no abort button, no help to be had. He’s fallen into a black hole and he cannot seem to find a way out. The black hole is also known as Tumblr. More specifically, it’s known as Tumblr’s Larry Stylinson tag."

OR: The one where Louis becomes a Larry shipper by accident.”

faking it by @donotdialnine

“A uni AU in which Louis has been Harry’s best friend since he offered him cubed fruit on the playground, and they spend more time cuddling in their dorm beds than they do apart, but it’s not like that. Or is it?

Aka Harry pretends to date his best friend to escape unwanted attention from a too insistent classmate and hopes it won’t blow up in his face. Featuring embarrassing dildo accidents, awkward boners, longing, first times, late night conversations, emotional discoveries and Niall as the exasperated friend with bad advice.”

feel so foolish by @juliusschmidt

“Louis and his friends keep laughing at Harry; he's sure of it. But he's not sure why.”

fever started long ago by @mediaville

“"Stay." His brain is skipping backwards but his mouth is skipping forward. "Like, in this bed? With me."

The words hang in the air, somewhere in between their naked chests. Louis licks his lips, and a tiny crinkle appears between his eyebrows. "Why?"

Does there have to be a reason for everything? Does everything have to be a debate? Why does Louis ask 'why?' and not 'why not?' Harry's already annoyed that he wants him to stay. "I'm ill," he says, sniffling for good measure. "I need supervision."

Louis hesitates, looking uncertain, and Harry doesn't like that look on him. "It's late," he says eventually. "You need your rest."

"We'll sleep," Harry promises, and as if on cue, he yawns. He is rather sleepy. "It will be restful."

SPOILER: Styles gets his way. It's not restful.”

fiction romance by orphan account

“Harry has a type.

He likes older, sophisticated, mature men. Well-educated men. Men with life experience and passion for arts and social causes. Men who are established in their careers, who've sorted their lives out.

Niall knows this.

And so Harry can't understand why he's sat here opposite Louis Tomlinson.

A punk Louis/uni Harry blind date AU.”

freeze this moment in a frame and stay like this by @rosesau

“Harry (not so) secretly crushes on the cute footie player and fills pages with sketches of him.”

follow me down this time by supernope

“Harry first noticed Louis in his second term at Hogwarts, and despite three years of inventing ways to stumble across Louis, he's never managed to actually work up the courage to speak to him. Also known as, self-indulgent Hogwarts AU, because every fandom needs Hogwarts AUs.”

faith, trust, and a little pixie dust by orphan account

“Louis loves Halloween. Harry hates everything about it, but he loves Louis. And Niall loves vodka and glitter so there's that.

Or the one where Harry has been pining for his best friend and roommate for years. It takes a costume party, an Irish fairy and a sprinkle of pixie dust to give this fairytale prince his happy ending.”

foolishly laying our hearts on the table by @runaway-train-works

““You think Harry wants that?”

“Dunno. Maybe. Wanna make him happy.” Harry takes advantage of the red light he’s pulled up to turn and look properly at Louis’ face. He’s not even looking in Harry’s direction though, focused instead on something out of his side window, head drooped, mindlessly playing with the string of his hoodie between his fingers, lost in his own world somewhere. For some reason, it makes Harry’s spine straighten.

“Because he’s your best mate?” Harry questions carefully.

“He’s my boyfriend.”

He couldn’t have heard him right. “What?”

Louis releases a deep breath, still not turning around. Harry wonders who he thinks he’s talking to right now. “He’s so pretty. Want to kiss him all day long. And buy him a big house and give him presents and marry him.”

The one where Harry is in love with his best friend Louis but doesn't think he stands a chance until some wisdom teeth and a rather unusual confession might just change his mind.”

give you my fever by beautlouis

“And he’s wanted it even more since he met Louis, it's driven him insane, he spends 90% of his life turned on because of Louis and he’s had no relief at all. He’ll wake up at night too hot and itchy, with Louis warm and sweet smelling next to him, and unable to do anything but wank unsuccessfully, with no release. “I can try,” Louis says, close enough that Harry’s eyes cross a little trying to look at him. “I want to, I’ve never been with anybody, like, I’ve snogged people, lots of people, but I’ve never—touched anyone.” He clears his throat. “I’d touch you, Hazza.”

Harry’s breathing picks up. “Yes.” He doesn’t think there was a question but he’s a little overwhelmed. “Yes,” he repeats, dizzy.

*x-factor era. harry's never had an orgasm before, louis gives him his first”

gathered on wings by @twopoppies

“As Harry lay by Louis’ side, covered in sweat and come, he knew he should feel ugly, messy, ruined, like the life he’d left behind. But something about the way Louis looked at him, the way he stared at him with want and awe, made Harry wonder if he’d ever feel this beautiful again.

Harry rolled his eyes at himself for his momentary romantic dreaminess. As good as this was, he knew it was nothing more than sex. He literally couldn’t afford to fall for just anyone, no matter how fit they were.

-----

What Harry Styles wanted was to be taken seriously as an artist. What he needed was a new sugar daddy to pave the way. Louis Tomlinson is an artist who isn’t what Harry is looking for. Somehow he still manages to turn Harry's world upside down. “

gorgeous (it makes me so mad) by @artxghoul

“Harry’s a coffee barista with nothing really going on for him except for the occasional flirting with, some, particularly hot male customers. But when a new guy starts coming in, he suddenly doesn’t know what to make out of any single situation anymore.

or: Harry is a hot mess. Liam is a brilliant roommate. Niall is a wise lesbian co-worker. Clifford is a good boy. Louis is a bad boy. Circumstances are bizarre.”

got my eyes on you by @eleadore

“Harry’s not supposed to take off his clothes, but it’s one of those unspoken rules, much like don’t have a wank with your best mate and definitely don’t make that a regular thing, fuck, what the fuck.”

give a little sing to the singles by @londonfoginacup

“Harry Styles is an adult now, with a real adult job (and benefits! Whatever those are!). He spends his days at the copier. Copying things.

That being said, no one told Harry that being an adult came with a confusingly chaotic boss, a copier machine that would be hell-bent on ruining his life, and a coworker so good looking that Harry might just have to quit. After all, Christmas is coming and if their office doesn’t win the decorating contest, Louis has threatened to break several laws and kneecaps in retaliation.

Happy Christmas, here’s to many more.”

haven by orphan account

“"I take it you’re not a new student?” “What?” Harry mumbles, caught up in the way his eyes are quite literally sparkling in the light. “Oh—No. Not a student.” “Are you a sub?” Louis asks. Harry clenches his hands into fists, holding them behind his back as he stumbles a bit. “I don’t, uh—I mean. I’ve never really gotten a chance to be a true sub, you know? My ex-partners were always scared they’d hurt me. But, like—If I trusted someone a lot, and if we used a, a safeword. And talked about, you know, boundaries, then—Yes, yeah, I-I’m a sub.” Louis’ eyes are so wide, his cheeks puffing out in the effort to not burst into laughter. “Oh shit, oh my god,” Harry whispers. “You meant—Oh god."”

horizontal like a quarter to three by orphan account

“The worst part is that Louis just wants to get really rough with him. He's wanted it right from the start, and it doesn't make sense, because Harry's always been so gentle and understanding and sweet, and yet all Louis wants to do is fuck him up.”

homegrown by casuallyhl

““It wasn’t an easy decision, if I’m honest,” Harry admits, shoulders sagging in on himself. “Moving is really difficult. My whole life was in Manchester. But Manchester didn’t want me. Leeds did.”

“Well, Leeds is happy to have you,” Louis says, giving Harry a kind smile.

Harry brightens a bit at that, undeniably pleased. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Louis replies, expression soft and lips curved.

Or, a gardening AU where Harry is new to town and the newest volunteer at the local gardening club, Louis is the attractive grandson of one of the members, and the nosy volunteers hatch a plan to get them together.”

hike up your skirt (and show your world to me) by anonymous

“Louis has a very hands on approach to training his new secretary. How else can he make sure Harry realizes his full potential?”

have a nice trip by @kingsofeverything

“While Harry and his roommate Louis are stuck at home practicing social distancing, they decide to take a little trip to pass the time.”

holiday greetings (and gay happy meetings) by @2tiedships2

“"Onwards to drop me off at Robert's before you go to Harry's!" Louis proclaimed when they were safely in the car. Or at least Louis was safely in. Niall was still brushing the snow out of his hair that Louis had accidentally dropped on him.

"We're picking up biscuits first," Niall grumbled as the snow melted into his hair. "You can wait in the car."

After three times of the car sounding like it was dying a slow and tragic death, it finally decided to start.

"This is what happens when you try to change the name of your car after five years," Louis said as a reminder of Niall's stupidity. "You'd be upset too if you were a car named Greased Lightning with a passenger trying to get it renamed to Dusty."

"To be fair," Niall explained, "the name Dusty does seem a bit more accurate."

"Make sure to leave the car running while you're getting whatever you're getting from Harry," Louis said in disgust. "This car is going to choke for good after that comment and I don't want to be stuck at Harry's place when that happens."

Or the one where Niall's dead car and and a foot of snow conspire to force Louis into spending time with an alpha he hates.... or does he?”

hard for me to know i might see you around by @coffeelouis

“The next profile shows a guy and his horse both crashing into the ground, the bio below reading:

"Hi, I'm Louis, I suck at riding horses so I ride dick."

Harry rolls his eyes and swipes left, but before he can consider the next profile in his feed, there’s a quiet “Oof” from right behind him.

[or, a TINDER AU where Harry swipes left on Louis' joke of a profile, then ends up stuck next to him on a trans-Atlantic flight.]”

in all its imperfections by @briannamarguerite

“From: Louis Tomlinson To: Undisclosed Recipients

Hello!

I’ve asked the front desk and you lovely folks are the ones who are on the same level as me in the car park. I found a to-do list today that looked somewhat important because it has lines of poetry scribbled at the bottom that seemed like they might be for a card project. The stationary has a moose in a canoe at the top of it (and he is quite adorable). Let me know if it’s yours!

Cheers!

“Oh. My. Fucking. God,” Harry whispered, his eyes darting over the sentences again willing them not to make sense. They did, they did make sense. “Oh. My. Bloody. Fucking. God.”

The next thing he knew he was on the floor, staring at the ceiling, with a very concerned Liam hovering over his head.

"What happened, mate?" Liam asked.

Harry just pointed to his computer.

Liam bent over Harry’s desk to read the email. “What? This isn’t bad. Is that your to-do list? Did you finally come up with the inside text for those cards?”

“Leeyum" he groaned. “It’s what’s on the list.”

“Oh,” Liam paused for a beat. “Is it dirty stuff?”

Harry nodded.

There was more silence. And then, “Dirty stuff with Louis?””

i wanna get dirty with you by awriterwrites

““You good?”

The man’s voice rang out like clear bells from a church tower, light and airy with a gentle rasp like a knife on toast.

It took Harry a moment to realize he was talking to him.

“Me?” Harry squeaked out, his voice a bit wobbly around the edges.

“Just waiting for you to get settled, sweetheart.”

This guy was a naturalist? The headmaster of an outdoor preschool? Harry felt a little woozy. Like he might collapse or propose. He wasn’t quite sure.

**** Harry is a kindergarten teacher. Louis is revolutionizing education--one child at a time. A conference may be an unlikely place to meet someone, but somehow Harry finds Louis and Louis helps Harry find himself.”

i don’t wanna be your friend, i wanna kiss your neck by crybaby

“Harry has been in love with Louis Tomlinson for four years, five months, and thirteen days.

Harry had fallen in love with Louis Tomlinson like how he’d seen in movies, and how he’d read in all the books he’d stolen from Gemma, headfirst and shameless.

The only problem was, that in films and books, love was always either returned instantly, or else it took time for unrequited love to lose the first two letters, and since the first option was obviously not true, Harry decided he would wait for the second to become reality. And so Harry waited, three years, eight months, and four days, before his heart had been broken by a gentle rejection and a misplaced blowjob, before Louis and Gemma had packed up and gone to Manchester for university.

(Harry is a hopelessly romantic omega and Louis is his sister's best friend)”

i want your high love and emotion, endlessly by deLILAh

“au. louis is sick of vajazzling, harry is saving up for a tandem bike, and they master their own destinies.

[or, camboy harry goes in for some intimate detailing, and something big happens.]”

if tomorrow never comes (we had last night) by @fallinglikethis and @all-these-larrythings

“Louis accepts the call without bothering to look at the caller ID. Only Zayn would be a big enough asshole to call him at two in the morning. This fucking better be important. “This fucking better be important,” Louis greets.

On the other end of the line comes a soft giggle. “Li, you don’t usually curse. I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but I like it.”

Yeah, that’s not Zayn. Louis sighs, his anger melting into resignation when he realizes that it’s some poor bastard probably drunk dialing his ex or something. “Sorry, mate. Think you’ve got the wrong number.” Based on this Tumblr prompt: "Accidentally called your number while drunk asking for a ride and you actually came au"”

i’ll crash until you notice me by @aliensingucci

“Louis sets off to Barbados to oversee the massive resort his family owns known as Sandy Hill. For years, he's been looking for a change in the monotony of his life, seeking adventure and perhaps love too. What he doesn't expect is the bright eyed boy who spills a milkshake on his shoes.

Cue the summer loving.”

into another (another) serotonin overflow by mercutionotromeo

“Harry wants this year to be different - wants it to be the year that he finally gets over this stupid crush. He’s going to uni, he needs to decide what he wants to do with his life.

Instead, he’s deciding what he wants to do to Louis Tomlinson.

Or: Sweet first time sex wherein Harry's adorably awkward, Louis is achingly cool, and Harry rides Louis wearing his jersey.”

i’ve been thinking ‘bout it all day lsforever

“When he heard about the job opening, from his nosy Aunt of course, Harry was ecstatic to go down there and talk to the shop owner. Her name is Perrie, and she and her best friend Louis opened the shop together not too long ago. Harry remembers the pair well from when he was in school.

or, Harry gets a job in Perrie and Louis' potion shop. He wasn't planning on the huge crush he develops on his boss.”

i’m not that other guy by @jaerie

“Harry has just come back from maternity leave when he unexpectedly goes into heat. He runs into a coworker on his way out.”

introduction to dynamics by @juliusschmidt

“Louis Tomlinson is the outspoken omega in the 'Introduction to Dynamics' course Harry wishes he didn't have to take. He's nearly certain to present as a beta, after all. Things will be simple for him.”

it’s not what it looks like by @kingsofeverything

“Quarantine allows Harry the time to improve his sewing skills, thanks to the face masks he makes for friends and family. Proud of his work, he posts a picture on Instagram, but it's not what it looks like.”

i’d burn this city down to show you the light by @nobodymoves

“Harry's a sheltered rich kid and Louis's a punk with a heart of gold. They meet when Louis breaks into Harry's house, Harry obtains an instant and all-encompassing crush, and they spend the summer falling into a whirlwind romance.”

i made a map of your stars by @brightbluelou

“Harry does not have a crush on Louis Tomlinson. Yes, Louis is very pretty and funny, and Harry may have had more than a few inappropriate thoughts about him, but he certainly doesn’t like him. (Except for the fact that he totally does.) or, Harry is the shy boy in the back of the class that no one really notices. Louis is the loud, outgoing football player that everybody likes.”

in dreams by @haydolce

“AU. When Harry moves to a new city, his new flat come with a number of sweet, anonymous gifts and surprises that brighten his days. Could it be a friendly ghost? Another friendly presence in his new building is his tattooed neighbor, Louis, who seems determined to put a smile back on his face.”

i do not feel the fear of falling (thought i could fly) by turismoemocional

“"After months of being showered with attention from the gorgeous boy, Louis feels like he’s experiencing a drought, and he yearns for even a single look in his general direction. He's pining and he knows it, feels like he's wilting. He can’t decide if being fired and arrested and disowned by his mum would have been the better outcome at this point."

Or - Harry is 19, Louis is 25. Student/Teacher relationships should remain strictly professional at all times... That's not to say they always do. Things get messy quickly.”

it’s halftime. are you ready to go? by @gaycousinlarry

“Reason #12 - Because it's halftime.

Harry would like to think that he doesn’t know how he got himself into this. Only… he’d be lying. Because he knows exactly how he got himself into this. Oh man, does he know, and it’s all because of a certain Louis Tomlinson. Alternatively - football is gay and Harry is trying to cope.”

it’s like i breathe you by orphan account

“Louis shrugs, grabbing the smoothie and taking a sip of it. He’s not really bragging. But. “I’ve kind of always had everything I wanted.”

“Everything?” Harry asks, genuinely interested, his green eyes wide.

Louis looks at Harry, smiling at him across the table and twirling a curl around his finger. Not everything.

or the one where louis volunteers to teach high school students about the ropes of business and running a company of your own, but he certainly does not plan on running into harry styles.”

i know how to whisk (but teach me anyway) by @2tiedships2

“Louis scrunched his eyebrows in confusion. “I don’t understand. Unmated alphas don’t just go into a rut out of nowhere. Unless…”

Louis grabbed onto Niall’s arm in desperation. “Am I a homewrecker? Does Harry have a mate? Oh my God, was he not flirting? Did the change in his scent not have anything to do with my smell yesterday? Did I just make that up!?”

Louis let go of Niall and dropped his face in his hands. “I knew it was too good to be true.”

“You’re an idiot,” Niall stated. Louis looked up to find Niall rolling his eyes. He snapped his laptop closed and moved to stand up. “I need to get some work done. Why don’t you stay here and think back to ABO dynamics 101.”

With that Niall hopped off the couch and headed to his room. He stopped and turned to Louis before he made it to the hall and said, “Oh, and Lou. You may want to reconsider your outlook on soulmates.”

Louis yelled after him. “Soulmates aren’t a thing, Niall!”

Or the one in which banana bread just might make Louis change his mind about soulmates.”

it’s in the contract by anonymous

““I can’t make rent this month,” Harry says.

“Awesome,” says Mitch. Mitch is the house leader. He’s the one leading the house meeting. “Free your schedule on Friday, Phi Sigma Kappa are coming over for game night anyway.

Harry swallows, nodding. “Alright,” he says.

Harris puts a hand on his thigh. “Hey,” he whispers into Harry’s ear. “I’d pay at least thirty for you.”

Harry snorts. “Thanks,” he says. “Good to know I’m an expensive bitch.””

just jump by @jaerie

“Finally, after years of suffering alone, the insurance plan at Harry's new job covered omega heat services. As a grown omega adult, it finally felt like the right time to try it out. And, since taking an entire week of heat leave would really put him behind at work, using a service to shorten it seemed like a responsible decision. At least that’s how he rationalized it. He was nervous about his decision but it was too late. The doorbell rang.

“Hi!” The alpha said again and Harry took the hand he offered and shook it firmly. “I’m Louis from Omega Services. It’s nice to meet you.””

just for me by @canonlarry

“Harry is a supermodel with a fake boyfriend. Louis is the captain and star forward of Manchester United with a fake girlfriend. They should have no problem having a completely platonic lunch between friends.

(They do.)”

just one look (and i fell so hard) by @disgruntledkittenface

“Louis takes a small step back, breaking the moment first. “Well, I should–”

“Do you want to come up?”

The words are out of Harry’s mouth before he’d even planned them, and he bites his lip.

“Oh, thank god,” Louis laughs, stepping back into Harry’s space. “I wasn’t, um…” “Wasn’t ready to let go of you yet,” Harry finishes quietly, glancing up at Louis. “Yeah,” Louis nods, reaching up and twirling one of Harry’s curls in his fingers. “Yeah, exactly.”

Harry has wanted to go to the Shubert Theatre ever since he moved to New York and lucked into a rent-controlled apartment just outside of the Theatre District. When he finally gets his chance, he hopes the night can meet his sky-high expectations. But the last thing he could have expected was the man seated next to him.”

know you better. by @wabadabadaba

“It didn't help that oftentimes Niall and Zayn's other friend, Louis joined them and from all the stories Marcel has heard about Louis, he was positive they wouldn't get along. From their description, Louis was loud, annoying, and competitive. He liked to tease Niall and Zayn mercilessly and he was creative. Being a tattoo artist, Louis knew things about art that Marcel would simply never understand due to his analytical mindset. He was the complete opposite of Marcel and Marcel didn't think he would ever last in a social setting where he had to be with Louis.

or the one where Marcel and Louis fall in love.”

kiss me on the mouth and set me free by @maggieisalarrie

“Louis has his head thrown back in a laugh, his wet fringe hanging in front of his eyes, and a beautiful flush to his cheeks. From this angle, the sun hits his face just right to where the beams of light are shining in between the spaces of each individual clump of watered down eyelashes. His chest is showing through the soaked material of his white jersey and it seems that his biceps are attempting to break free from the sleeves that are clinging to his skin.

And Harry can do nothing except take it all in. He doesn’t even think he’s breathing at this point. He is literally stuck in place, admiring the true beauty of Louis Tomlinson, while being surrounded by fit footballers and generally attractive people. He doesn’t think he’s ever been in love before, but if Louis let him, he’s pretty damn sure he could change that in the matter of a few nanoseconds.”

kiss from a rose by @chloehl10

“Harry is the quiet one in the office no one ever notices. Until Louis does, that is. When notes start appearing on Harry’s desk, he ponders who is behind the kind words, oblivious to Louis’ attempts to get his attention...”

knock knock, i love you by beautlouis

““Well,” Louis says, searching for something to relieve this tension. “I think if a bloke gets kicked out of his stats exam for a knock knock joke, he deserves to hear the punchline, yeah?”

“Oh!” Harry says, beaming. “I forgot where we left off, what was it again?” He looks overjoyed to be exchanging a shit joke.

“Ah, you said knock knock, then I said who’s there, and then you said Noah,” Louis supplies helpfully. He hates that he's actually curious about the rest of the joke. “So, Noah who?”

“Oh,” says Harry, in a much different tone, dragging out the syllable. He looks bashful now. Louis cannot keep up with this boy, it's going to kill him. “Right, well.” He shuffles his feet. Fuck, what kind of knock knock joke gets a boy nervous? “Noah a good place we could get something to eat?”

[Harry and Louis get kicked out of a statistics exam for passing a knock knock joke note, and subsequently fall in love. Harry's a virgin, there's a cat, a hot cocoa date, a lot of sex, even more knock knock jokes, and everything is lovely and happy.]”

love is divine by @aliensingucci

“Being a witch doesn't help when it comes to unrequited love.”

let me outshine the moon by sarcasticfluentry

““Fuck,” echoes Liam, shaking his head at them with a small smile on his face. “Just don’t get yourselves killed.”

“You can come too, if you want,” says Niall, standing up.

“I wouldn’t be caught dead at a vampire bar,” Liam scoffs, standing up as well. “Wait. Fuck.”

...or, boarding school students Niall and Harry chance a trip to the local vampire bar.”

let’s talk about making love by istajmaal

““That’s my name, baby, I’m Louis.” The voice on the phone inhales sharply, then says, “Gonna take my cock now, princess?”

Harry lets out a high-pitched mhmm and shudders as he pulls his fingers out of his hole, groping for the vibrator. “Nice to meet you,” he says, feeling a bit dizzy with how hard his untouched cock is.

Louis is just a simple phone sex line operator, but to Harry, he's Daddy.“”

loving you is free by @littlelouishiccups

“Louis is a workaholic record label CEO who hasn't been on a date in nearly a year. Niall and Liam make an account for him on a sugar dating website as a joke. And then Louis meets Harry.”

laundry room by beautlouis

“The third Wednesday of the new year, Louis finds himself in the laundry room, just as he was the last Wednesday and the one before that. He’s doing pretty well with his New Year’s resolution. The only problem so far is the company he finds in the laundry room. It seems that it’s just him and one other boy who’ve chosen late Wednesday nights as prime laundry-doing time. That wouldn’t be a problem except for who the other boy is.

He’s seen this boy around; it’s hard to miss the long-legged, long-haired dream that lives in Louis’ complex. He likes to wear very sheer shirts and very high boots; he is incredibly fucking gorgeous and yeah, Louis’ noticed him but he’s never spoken to him. Until tonight, apparently.

[Louis and Harry are both students living in the same apartment complex. They end up having the same laundry night and time. Louis can't stop staring at Harry and he can't figure out why Harry consistently points out Louis’ inside-out shirts, and his untied shoes, and messy hair. Enter slow burn-ish flirting, banter, awkwardness, and a lot of laundry.]”

lead me out on the moonlit floor by @scrunchyharry and @beauxbatonslouis

“In all honesty, Harry was long forgotten, cast aside by a dimpled stranger and too much champagne. He was almost glad, now, that Harry hadn’t come, because he wouldn’t have met this stranger, this tall man who could make his heart flutter with a single glance.

Victorian!AU where Louis is a wealthy lord throwing a masquerade ball for his birthday and Harry is a toymaker who's only confident when he's wearing a mask.”

let our hearts collide by @crinkle-eyed-boo

““Liam is in a coma.” “Yeah, we can see that,” the father says, throwing his hands in the air. “God, this is the most depressing Christmas ever,” the blonde sister mutters. “His vital signs are strong,” Dr. Higgins assures them. “Brain waves are good–” “Brain waves?” the mother wails, taking Liam’s hand in hers. “Oh my God!” “How did this happen?” the father demands. “Um, he was pushed from the platform at the subway station,” Harry pipes up. The entire family turns to look at him, confused. Harry shrinks back, wishing he could have just kept his big mouth shut. “Who’s this?” the father asks, pointing at him. “Um, I’m Harry–” he starts. “He’s Liam’s fiancé!” Jade adds helpfully from where she stands by the door. Every jaw in the room drops, including Harry’s. Oh, shit. Shit shit shit. What?

When Harry, a lonely transit worker, saves the life of the handsome commuter he's been secretly pining for, an innocent mistake results in Liam Payne's family believing that Harry is engaged to their son. In the Paynes, Harry finds the big family he's always longed for...and a love he never saw coming.

A While You Were Sleeping AU”

lemon eyes by @turnyourankle

“It's not proper for omegas to mess around with alphas before finding their bondmate. But Harry doesn't give a damn what's proper and fully intends on getting as much experience as he can before even trying to find one. As far as he's concerned, the right alpha won't care, and he'll have some fun on the way.

And who better to start with than Louis Tomlinson, the alpha with the worst reputation on campus?”

like how your hands feel me up and down by ballsdeepinjesus

““How do I look?” Harry asks lowly. He turns around and gestures towards the unzipped back of his skirt for him to help. Louis stumbles forward and places a cold hand on the exposed side of Harry’s stomach, steadying him while he pulls the zipper up the rest of the way. He pushes Harry back into the dressing room and stands behind him in front of the mirror. “It’s -- you’re tight,” Louis chokes. “It’s tight, I mean. It’s. Yes.” His hand is curved around his hip now, squeezing lightly.

“Tight’s good, right?” Harry murmurs, batting his eyelashes. He almost can’t believe himself.

“Very good,” Louis grunts.

[louis works in a halloween shop and harry needs a costume]”

my pleasure (to make you mine) by @zanniscaramouche

““Think about it.” Niall raises an eyebrow at him before amiably leading the interrupting customer to the other side of the store.

And the thing is, even a day later, Harry's done nothing but think about piercing his nipples.

Harry decides to get his nipples pierced. Louis is the piercing artist with a smile that breaks every rule of the universe.”

my service, your pleasure by @hershelsue

“Harry moves in with Louis, his childhood best friend. He had always enjoyed doing things for him, never putting much thought into it. What happens when they're in the same space all the time and Harry can't keep his hands to himself? Surely, his adoration bursts at the seams and a very suspicious Louis tries his best to keep up.”

milk kinship by @jaerie

“Harry had aspired to become a wet nurse since first learning about the honored and respected tradition when he was a teenager. The first documentary he’d seen had been detailed and brutally honest and Harry had still fallen in love with the idea. It’s origins were rooted in highly regarded positions of the royal staff and were credited in playing a role in the lives of some of the most famous children in history. There were medically trained wet nurses and other milk services for mothers unable to feed their babies, but true wet nurse nannies could only be afforded by the rich and famous. The glamorous life appealed to Harry even if his understanding of his role changed to a more realistic view over time. As a starry eyed kid, that was where he wanted to be.

Or Harry is a wet nurse and isn't allowed to have an alpha. He may or may not break his vows.”

make tea, not war by @whateverdelusional and @popsongnation

“"Is he the messiest?"

"Yes."

"Does he do the washing up?"

"Never."

"Does he make his bed?"

"Never."

"Hopeless, hopeless flatmate. Would you rather be with one of these guys?"

"Nope!"

Or: Louis attempts to become a better flatmate, much to Harry's dismay.”

masterpiece by @rainbowsandlovehl

“Harry stared at his phone for five minutes, waiting for a response before giving up. He scrolled through instagram for a while but nothing caught his fancy. He sighed deeply, glancing up for a second before looking at his phone again then blinked. Wait a second... Harry’s head snapped up quickly and he did a double take because this guy surely hadn’t been there the last time Harry had checked the place. No, this person was new and beautiful and different and Harry was pretty sure he was openly gaping at him.

Harry is unwillingly dragged to an art gallery by Niall and his evening turns out better than he expected when he meets Louis. Featuring bad pickup lines and ample flirting.”

meow or never by velvetnoodle (goldfishsunglasses)

“Harry is having a terrible, no good, very bad day.

He’s holed himself up in the back of the university library, stealing an entire sofa for himself. The fact that no one has said anything to him about it just goes to show how much his feelings must be on display. That’s nothing new; Harry’s always worn his heart on his sleeve. And cried easily. Not that he’s crying yet, but he’s close. It’s been a right shit day, and Harry just wants to go back to his room and bury his face in Evie’s soft fur. Unfortunately, he no longer has that luxury.

When Harry is forced to choose between getting kicked out of student housing or giving up his cat, a moment of self-pity leads to the discovery of a third, and much more appealing, option”

my things aren’t the only thing you’ve stolen by beautyhaz

“Harry thinks he's gone insane when things begin to go missing at school and only one boy knows where they are. It turns into more than he expects.”

midnight memories by grand buzz

“Louis Tomlinson is the successful author of several children's books. Those books happen to be the favourites of Eve Styles, Harry’s six year old daughter. Never one to deny her anything, he takes her to a book signing where Louis will also be reading an excerpt from his new book

Of course, Harry doesn't expect to fall in love with the author whose books he reads every night--but that's exactly what happens.“

make him want to sin by @becomeawendybird

“The stranger’s sharp gaze landed on him immediately, the eye contact shattering through Harry’s defenses. For the first time in his life, Harry had an instantaneous reaction to someone. The man stared down at him with interest, like he wanted to take Harry apart and put him back together again, piece by piece. Harry wanted that more than anything, and he wanted it right now. It took every ounce of strength he had ever possessed to not drop down to his knees instinctively.

All from one glance.

Harry is a curatorial assistant at the London Museum of Natural History, on the day of the big annual gala he catches a glimpse of someone unexpected.”

thank you to all the authors for creating wonderful fics! you’re all so talented and valued. :)

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seijch · 4 years ago

Photo

of slushies and shitty coffees ft. iwaizumi hajime.

🍬 iwaizumi hajime + gender neutral!reader

🍬 1.5k, convenience store worker!reader, vague immortal and reincarnation au

🍬 this was for vee but i think she deactivated 🧍‍♂️ its also the first one i wrote back in october so its ... maybe not my best

"you know what i am, don't you?" + being immortal boils down to 70% loneliness, 20% doing whatever the hell you want, and 10% recurring nuisances that bear an odd resemblance to your first love.

To say you hated working the night shift would be an understatement.

Sure, most days it passed with relative ease and allowed you to study on the clock, your studies rarely interrupted. A group of friends with the munchies here, a fellow student in need of a pick-me-up there, and an elderly woman that came in like clockwork at the 4am mark to buy cat food for the strays living nearby. You were well-acquainted with the few regulars of your shift and fond of the night manager, Saeko. On paper, there would be little to hate.

But the classes you had a mere three hours after your shift ended were nothing short of a living nightmare to push through; at this point, you’re sure that your blood is almost entirely comprised of the slushies and shitty coffee you spend your shift helping yourself to.

In fact, you’re in the middle of making yourself one of these slushies when the door opens behind you. “Welcome,” you throw over your shoulder, catching a glimpse of the customer as you achieve slushie-making self-actualization.

Your mouth goes dry instantly.

You’re sure they don’t just let Greek gods walk into the nearest 7-11, but there’s clearly a first time for everything. He’s handsome, with a jaw sculpted from the highest quality marble money could buy. In an attempt to prevent your jaw from hitting the floor, you take a long sip of the slushie. “Fuck!” you hiss, clutching your head as you wait for the brain freeze to recede.

In the time that it takes you to get back to the register, the attractive stranger is about ready to check out. “Just this for you?” you ask, the only noise being the whir of the air conditioning and the scanner beeping at the energy bars. When you don’t get a response, you glance up at him. He’s looking right at you, but there’s something deeper behind it.

It’s like he knows you, that you’re as familiar to him as the beat of his heart, the air in his lungs. It’s both too heavy and entirely too intimate for an interaction that consists of you ringing up his 2AM transaction of three protein bars. ”That’ll be $4.17.”

He pays in exact change. Not another word is exchanged between you, but the intrigue and infatuation you have for the stranger lingers, even into the classes you have the morning after.

The next time you see him, he’s with someone else. A friend, you assume — the man with the perfect brown hair ribs at him as they walk in. Once he makes eye contact with you, however, he falls silent.

You’re beginning to feel like you’re missing out on something, especially when the stranger’s friend pulls him over, saying something in a hushed whisper. Something begins to prickle at your skin, and it’s not (just) the way the AC vent blasts on you from where you‘re sitting.

Thankfully, Saeko has excellent timing, bringing the mop out and greeting the two with a wide grin. “We doing alright over here, boys?” They nod, Mr. Shampoo Commercial saying something about midnight cravings before they make their way to the slushie machine.

”Listen,” Saeko whispers to you as the mop passes your spot at the register, “if those boys do or even say anything strange, you know what to do.” When you’d first started working the night shift, Saeko had been very clear that your safety was her top priority.

(“You college kids remind me of my baby brother,” she’d told you one night as you dusted the shelves. “I know it’d kill me if any of you got hurt.”)

You ring up two slushies: one cherry and one cola. Mr. Shampoo Commercial’s the one paying, and it’s as you‘re returning his change that he decides to speak. “Don’t you remember us?” His voice is smooth, with a dangerous lilt to it.

”Oikawa,” warns Mr. Protein Bar. “Don’t.”

”Why not, Iwa?” To you, Oikawa asks, “It’s been a while, don’t you think?”

”I’m sorry,” you say, trying to keep your voice even in the face of his questions, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Your foot is poised to knock over a busted shelf behind you; it was Saeko’s alarm system, something she claimed could be heard from anywhere in the store.

A look is exchanged between the two men. You don’t bother trying to read it; it’s the sea and the storm, roiling with a language only the two of them are fluent in. “Sorry,” Iwa says, taking his slushie and shoving the cherry one in Oikawa’s hands. “Have a nice night.”

You don‘t see Iwa for a few weeks. The next time you do, he’s alone. It’s another wordless exchange; this time, he’s buying two cans of shitty coffee. “Is your friend waiting outside?” you ask. He looks surprised to hear your voice, probably expecting you to give him the bare minimum after your last encounter.

”Actually,” he rubs the back of his neck, sliding one of the cans your way, “that one’s for you. Sorry about what happened last time.” He pops open the tab of his coffee. “Oikawa doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut.”

You nod, opening your own can. ”What was that all about?” you ask, taking a stab in the dark. You miss, unfortunately: he almost chokes on his coffee, the lines on his face growing more defined as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

”Don’t worry about it.”

It‘s a shitty answer paired with shitty coffee, but you take it.

And if you notice that he almost glimmers with an unreal sheen under the flickering fluorescent light, you dismiss the thought. Nothing else seems very real at three in the morning anyway.

He becomes another regular, swinging by twice a week. Two cans of coffee, paid for with exact change. You don’t have the heart to tell him that as an employee, you could just take from the pot whenever you wanted before you had to brew a new one for the morning rush. At first, he slides the can to you and wishes you a good night on his way out, but he grows more chatty as the weeks go by.

He asks about your day, asks about class, asks about work. Never does he share anything about the life he leads outside of shitty coffee and the four walls of the humble convenience store.

But it comes, little by little, like mismatched pieces forming the mosaic of Iwaizumi Hajime. You see it in the weight of the world trapped in his gaze, the way he rolls broad shoulders as if expecting the bones to crack. Most of all, you realize as you take a sip from your can one night, it’s the way he seems to know you better than you know yourself.

It started simple enough, a nod and a flash of something on his face when you told him what you were majoring in. A knowing chuckle, more to himself, when you mention how the old woman that bought cat food was one of your favorite customers. It comes, little by little, until one piece remains. The only way to get it is to ask.

He beats you to it. “You know what I am, don’t you?” he asks as you’re lifting tonight’s can of coffee to your lips. You spare him a glance before taking a long sip, delaying a response for as long as possible.

“You definitely look too good to be human.”

The corners of his lips twitch. “It’s good to know you never change.” You set the now empty can on the counter.

“Have we met before?” Iwaizumi, at least, has the decency to look sheepish. “Your friend with the perfect hair asked if I remembered you.” He snorts with the identifier you’ve given Oikawa, but you press on. “I don’t. But I think you remember me.”

You wait with bated breath for the final piece to fall into place, but he regards you with a look you can’t read.

You’re about to chalk it up to another swing and a miss, but he pulls out his wallet, a worn leather thing. From it comes a single picture, the color faded yellow, the image predating even black and white photography.

It’s Iwaizumi, looking just the same as he does now. He’s got his arm around the person next to him, pressing a kiss to their forehead. The other person is grinning from ear to ear, and it doesn’t take long to recognize who it is.

It’s you.

#haikyuu x reader #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi scenario #haikyuu scenario #iwaizumi hajime #half-assed tagging bc i dont rlly care anymore #anyway this is a fun concept but to me its clearly one of the ones that cant be made into a 500k epic spanning all of time itself #oh to reach slushie making self actualization #me googling for firsthand experiences of 7-11 night shift workers #i see room for expansion but hm . maybe for the ao3 post #anyway . hee #shoutout vee idk if she remade but she was my first req

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quentinbecks · 3 years ago

Note

10-16 on the obscure asks? 💚💚💐

Thank you, Paige! Sorry for the bit of a delay in answering 💕

what do you wish you hated, but actually like?

Probably something like 90 Day Fiancé? I’m sure it could/probably should be considered problematic for some of the couples they let on (50 something white man with a 19 year Filipina who won’t let her touch the car window? Yikes!) But it’s a train wreck that I can’t stop watching.

vague about your crush(es)

I answered this here, but I’ll just talk about the kind of people I get crushes on. Tall, dark hair and light eyes, feminine no matter their gender. Idk I’m not super picky looks wise. I like people that are genuinely funny, don’t need to be super smart as long as you’re willing to be constantly learning new things, and just kind and considerate of others. Also, just please be Will Graham in season 1 of Hannibal

is there someone you have mixed feelings towards?

Yeah, there’s a few people in real life I like, but also make me question how much I actually like them. Not any of my friends, but I have a few acquaintances who seem cool but then do something questionable. Guess that’s why they’re not actual friends!

talk about an au or story you came up with

My John serial killer AU (though, I suppose it’s not much of an AU…). Still don’t know if I want my girl as being unsuspecting, knowing and not caring, or being a final girl tbh. But I do love the sexual tension between a slasher and their final girl/boy/person 😬 We can all blame @smut-goblin for this one!

do you like makeup?

I like makeup, but I’ve only worn a full face a couple of times since the pandemic started. Since people are mainly seeing my eyes now I just do my brows and lashes, everything else is bare under that mask lol. I definitely prefer skincare, though! Your makeup isn’t going to look good if that skin is being neglected.

do you prefer space or the ocean?

The ocean! I love how freeing it is to be in a massive body of water! I don’t know if I would feel the same about orbiting through space. Also, if I’m being honest, every billionaire’s obsession with colonizing space has soured me on the idea tbh.

if you could pick any planet besides earth, where would you live?

lol this is hard since I don’t want to go into space. Maybe Mercury or Venus since they’re hot? No cold planets, please! Lemme go there and see just how much heat I can truly withstand.

#ask games #long ish post

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its-sixxers · 4 years ago

Text

OC Interview - Tandreth

name ➔ “Who’s asking?” he grins. “Indoril Tandreth, if you’re Velothi. If you’re one of the jarl’s men, I’m no one.”

are you single ➔ “Quite. Why, are you looking to change that? I’m a hard man to tie down.”

are you happy ➔ “My coinpurse is full, I have a collection of various artifacts and treasures, someone to warm my bed every night - I suppose I can’t complain.” The smile leaves his eyes, however.

are you angry ➔ “I’m Velothi. It’s in the blood, so they say.” You can’t imagine the aloof man in front of you furious by any means, but there’s a bite of challenge to his tone.

are your parents still married ➔ “Hah!” he laughs. “They never were. Everyone calling me a bastard is right in more ways than one.”

NINE FACTS

birthplace ➔ “The Ashlands. Northwestern Vvardenfell, back in the day - now the entire island’s ash.”

hair color ➔ “Black, but I’m told the sun turns strands brown if it’s bright enough.” Tandreth combs his fingers through his curls. “I bleached it white, once upon a time. Didn’t want to look my sister, you see.”

eye color ➔ He flutters his eyelashes. “Red as Azura cursed them.”

birthday ➔ “The tenth of Sun’s Dawn. Year 430, of the Third Era.” Tandreth waits for the math to be done, eyes twinkling playfully. “I look good for my age, don’t I?”

mood ➔ “They change like the weather. Now? Or most often? The answer to both is bored.” He tries to look at the sheet of paper and the notes upon it. “Tell me you have something better to ask.”

gender ➔ It’s not the interesting question he wanted. “I’m a man. Not that the local Nords seem to believe me.” His smile grows wicked. “Their wives do.”

summer or winter ➔ “They’re the same thing, here in Skyrim.” He sighs. “Summer. I like to be able to feel most of my fingers.” You note his left pinky is missing.

morning or afternoon ➔ “Morning. I like to watch the sunrise before I turn in for the night.”

EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE

are you in love ➔ “Always am.” he sighs dramatically, lounging further back in his chair. “How can anyone not be? Tamriel is filled with the beautiful.”

do you believe in love at first sight ➔ “Now we’re at the interesting questions.” Tandreth kicks his feet up on the table. “Of course I do. Love at first sight, hate at last sight - isn’t that how it tends to go?”

who ended your last relationship ➔ It catches him off guard - he’s leaning his chair back on two legs, and nearly falls over. The front feet of the chair connect with the floor loudly as he settles himself. “The law.” he answers simply. “And gold.”

have you ever broken someone’s heart ➔ The next question quickly repairs his high spirits. “Dozens, I’m sure. Don’t mistake me for cruel - I’ve never been dishonest about what I am. I can’t prevent others from lying to themselves.”

are you afraid of commitments ➔ He rolls his eyes. “You sound like Raansi.” he mutters. “I’ve spent the last fifty years in Skyrim, I think that’s commitment enough.”

have you hugged someone within the last week? ➔ Tandreth opens his mouth then frowns. “... you know, I haven’t.” he realizes aloud, and is clearly troubled by it. “Maybe I should give that great dragonborn ox a hug. I’ve gotten good at dodging her hammer, you know.”

have you ever had a secret admirer ➔ “I like to collect the letters.” he grins from ear to ear. “They don’t stay secret for long, if I can help it.”

have you ever broken your own heart? ➔ Those red eyes of his drop to his nails, where he makes a display of picking at his cuticles. “Don’t be foolish.”

SIX CHOICES

love or lust ➔ “Lust is simpler. There’s less tears involved, much more fun for all parties. I don’t need someone simpering over me to feel like a whole person.” he answers, perhaps a tad defensively.

lemonade or iced tea ➔ “Iced tea offers much more variety in flavor. That’s a drink for Hammerfell or Elsweyr, not this frozen tundra.”

cats or dogs ➔ His mouth twists. “I don’t keep pets. Humans live short enough lives, animals are asking for heartbreak.”

a few best friends or many regular friends ➔ “I have a very large circle of acquaintances and paramours. Does that count?”

wild night out or romantic night in ➔ “A wild night out, of course. It helps one feel alive.”

day or night ➔ “As much as I hate the cold, night. Have you seen a full moon over the snow on a clear night? As bright as day, and clear as crystal.” There’s a dreamy expression on his face.

FIVE HAVE YOU EVERS

been caught sneaking out ➔ “Several times. Not all for troublesome reasons, I assure you.”

fallen down/up the stairs ➔ “I am the pinnacle of grace.” Tandreth looks almost offended to be asked.

wanted something/someone so badly it hurt? ➔ “There was this necklace I tried to steal from a sleeping beast of a woman, and I nearly had my nose broken for the trouble.” You think it’s a joke, but the grave quality to his tone suggests that Tandreth takes any threat to his nose very seriously.

wanted to disappear ➔ “Wanted to? I can.” Perhaps he is dodging the questions.

FOUR PREFERENCES

smile or eyes ➔ “They’re intertwined. Part of a smile is in the eyes, you know - and they’re at their best when smiling.”

shorter or taller ➔ “Taller.” he answers first, then wrinkles his nose - his reflexive response has brought up something uncomfortable. “I don’t mind either way.” he adds hastily. “I’ve been very happy with people of all sizes.”

intelligence or attractive ➔ “You must think me vain indeed.” He tilts his chin upward. “But aye, I’ll say it - beauty. Not all can find tomes to pore over or tutors from the imperial province. Beauty isn’t just in the face, or the form, it’s an energy all its own.” He gestures vaguely with his hands. “A school of magic, perhaps. Difficult to define. It’s why I love it so dearly.”

hook-up or relationship ➔ “I’m a hard man to love.” he says with a dramatic shrug and an affected sheepish smile. “But I don’t leave my bedmates wanting.”

FAMILY

do you and your family get along ➔ Tandreth exhales shortly. “I liked the other questions.” he mumbles. “Presently? Only my sister’s left of it, and we’re not on speaking terms.”

would you say you have a “messed up life” ➔ His smile is entirely without humor, a grim thing that ages him by decades. “Don’t worry, dearest. I live my life to the fullest.”

have you ever run away from home ➔ “I think every young lad does, at some point.” He’s picking at his nails again.

have you ever gotten kicked out ➔ “By my family? No. But there’s a few cities I’m not allowed to set foot in - do you have the time to listen? ... no? Pity.”

FRIENDS

do you secretly hate one of your friends ➔ “What intrigue!” Tandreth’s good humor returns. “I’d have to have them to bear some secret distaste. The people I hate in my circle I make no secret of.”

do you consider all of your friends good friends ➔ “I’ll stretch the definition of friend to play along with your questions. No. You don’t live as long as I have by trusting anyone but yourself.”

who is your best friend ➔ For a moment you think he’s about to say ‘no one’, and you’re correct - but the pause before he says so is notable indeed.

who knows everything about you ➔ “My sister, I suspect. We’re twins, you know - she’s an hour older. Will never let me forget it.” He snorts. “You’d think she had decades on me, the way she carries on. She knows everything - so she might was well know everything about me.” You sense he’s a little bitter.

He offers to take you to a play in town after your work day is complete. You respectfully decline, and he respects your professionalism - but he still winks on his way out.

#oc interview #oc: tandreth #hey guys it's time to learn about king shithead #can u read between the lines and see beneath the shithead guise?#imma do one for idunn and maybe raansi if i can get some art of her done

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monstersandmaw · 4 years ago

Link

Yup. Part One. This absolute monstrosity quite literally grew wings and took on a life of its own, so yes, there will be a part two shortly, and it will be NSFW.

I shared the mood board/aesthetic for this over on Discord and a couple of people said they were excited, so I hope you enjoy it! It's set in Old Trollbridge, and you may pick up a passing reference to another character whose story was set here... Let me know in the comments if you remember them... Thanks also for your wonderful and enthusiastic feedback on Winter Solstice Chapter Five!

Contents: former school bullies, reader with a very slight potty-mouthed internal monologue, being physically attracted to someone(s!) that you didn't like intellectually/emotionally, watching said people kiss/be physically affectionate, the old 'oh no we've been paired on a project and will have to work together now or we'll get bad marks' trope, and some general growing up :) Wordcount: 5766

Chunky preview:

Winding up at the same university as the two biggest dicks from high school would have been - trying - enough, but to end up not only in the same department but also in the same damned classes was just downright cruel of fate. And yes, that was absolutely the right word for them.

The University of Old Trollbridge was known for its academic excellence in all areas, from cutting edge medicine to more traditional approaches, and the centuries-old institution was a bastion of learning, with places hotly contested. You’d nearly run herself into the ground in school to pass the right exams to get here - to leave all the pettiness of high school behind and finally start over - and here they were. It was going to be exactly the same. You could feel it. They’d worm their way to the top of the hierarchy again, and everyone would worship the ground they touched, and it would all just be awful.

“Fucking hell. This isn’t happening,” you cursed, watching the familiar and very particular hue of the naga’s dark green scales as he slithered across the entrance hall of the history faculty building, his muscular tail rippling with a million iridescent, deep emerald green colours. The atrium wasn’t exactly flooded with light, so somehow he looked like a living shadow.

People watched him; everywhere he went, people noticed him. He was probably one of the more famous undergraduates the university had had in recent years, what with his family’s ancient bloodline and apparently endless bank vaults, and his brief but extremely successful stint in modelling. The fact that the naga and his best friend (and almost literal sex god), Iltho, had gained a place was not all that much of a surprise to anyone, but you’d hoped they wouldn’t have chosen the same flipping department as you for their undergraduate studies. Not that they could be accused of paying their way in; for starters, the university had not accepted that kind of thing for generations.

No, they were both beautiful and unbearably smart too.

It was indecently unfair.

Your lip curled. Just as you’d been about to turn away, your roommate caught up with you. You’d put down that you didn’t mind who you were put with - gender or species - and for once, you’d actually lucked out. Rachel was an extremely talented spell caster, and, from what you’d seen of her in the first two days of your acquaintance, extremely tidy. “What’s up?” she asked, smiling up at you from beneath a thick curtain of vibrant, pastel pink hair. She was also about a foot shorter than you.

You jutted your chin at the naga.

“Oh my god, that’s… wow. I didn’t know we had a celebrity in our department!” she giggled, elbowing you playfully in the side. “Gods above… he’s gorgeous. It’s sinful. It shouldn’t be allowed. How am I supposed to concentrate in Old High Runic if he’s sitting there looking like that?”

“He’s also a massive cock,” you snorted. Fucking ‘Drake Shimmerscale’. Even his name was a giant cliche. Fancy noble lines with their fancy stupid names.

She tilted her head curiously. “You… know him?”

“Went to school with the bastard. Him and his best friend -” you cut off, eyes widening, as a second figure strode out of a doorway and exclaimed loudly. “Fucking… speak of the devil.”

“That’s a bit harsh,” she said, her eyes also locked on the newest arrival. It was easy to see why she’d thought you’d been referring to his appearance; his skin was a deep, ruby red, he had enormous, black, curved horns, a blunt-ended tail, and the bat-like wings that hung down his back looked like they’d been dipped in dark ink at the tips. He was also built like a bull and turned heads wherever he went, and here was no exception. Of course, the incubus would have to keep his ‘influence’ under control while at the university, but that didn't mean he didn't just naturally exude sex appeal anyway. Six-foot-something tall, with long, black hair that he usually wore pulled back into a thick braid studded with golden beads, he had flashing golden eyes and a mouth made for kissing.

Everyone had fantasised about being with him (and/or Drake) at school. Iltho had looked twenty-five since the age of fourteen, and acted like it too. Confident, cocky, quietly arrogant, also filthy rich, and stupendously intelligent, there was nothing that Iltho didn’t have. Really, the duo had made a striking pair, with the milk-white of Drake’s skin and the heated crimson of Iltho’s, their gemstone eyes of yellow and green, and their aloof personalities. The pair had ruled the school without having to do so much as lift a finger. They’d also done nothing to stop the lesser bullies posturing and vying for their attention. ‘Popular’ they may have been, but they’d also been about as liked as a Nightmare at a slumber party.

“No,” you said. “It’s not harsh. They’re both awful and they made life hell for the rest of us.” And with that you turned away, heading for the library.

You fumed as you stalked along the corridor and up the stairs towards the department’s ancient library. Yours was, appropriately enough for the History Faculty, one of the oldest buildings in the university, and it was absolutely everything you’d ever hoped for or dreamed from Old Trollbridge. The sheer aesthetic of it was mesmerising. Taking a huge, deep breath of the slightly musty air as you stepped into the library, you tried to put the pair of bullies out of your mind. This could still be your fresh start, surrounded by fragile parchment and vellum, leather spines, ancient oak tables, and the vague tingle of magic in the air.

There were wards in the ceilings to syphon off excess ambient magic in places like this, and as you let your eyes roam up and follow the conductive brass rods embedded in the ceiling, you nearly crashed into one of the long trestle tables that had been placed in a remote alcove, lit on one side by a huge, leaded, arched window and framed on the other three by bookshelves. As if fate had chosen you a place to settle down, you stared at the empty space for a moment before deciding that this would probably be your study spot for the rest of the year. It was right at the back of the library, and seemed out of the way enough that it wouldn’t be on the regular stamping ground of first years looking for the standard texts. It was also open enough that it probably wouldn’t be sought out for… other activities. The stacks, with their dark corners and endless shadows, seemed much more appropriate for that.

Yes. This would be perfect.

And you wouldn’t have to think about them here either.

Gods, even trying to get the thought of them out of your head prompted a flare of hot ire. Iltho and Drake had been inseparable at school. Class A bullies who just stood there and let everyone else spar and jockey for the dubious honour of being their latest minions and underlings, letting their wealth and, in Iltho’s case, ‘charisma’ carry them through. Half the school had been in love with them at one point, influence or not. And yes, even you had admired them from a distance. Rachel was right - they really were absolutely fucking gorgeous. Both of them. And it fucking sucked.

An hour later, a shadow passed in front of that beautiful window and you glanced up as someone halted beside your table. “That’s a familiar sight,” a deep voice chuckled.

Your stomach dropped and you felt your face fall with horror before you schooled it into something a little more acerbic than you’d ever managed in school. Funny how a few months’ internship abroad over the summer at one of the world’s most prestigious historical institutions could change everything. You hardened your eyes and noticed the way he watched you.

“Iltho,” you said flatly as you cricked your neck to look up at him. “You're blocking the light, but I can’t tell if it’s your wings or your ego that’s obliterating the sun. Would you care to move?”

Read the whole thing right now, as well as all the Mermay 2020 posts (five in total, including extra artwork), a surprise, nsfw ‘ghost lover’ story, all of Winter Solstice up to the current chapter, a new multi-chapter vampire story, the mlm werewolf story, plus everything that’s been posted already on Patreon!

#exophilia #incubus #male incubus #naga #male naga #incubus x naga #incubus x naga x reader #naga x reader #incubus x reader #part one #patreon only #monthly story #patreon monthly story #poly #poly exophilia

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jaepies · 4 years ago

Text

𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢𝙨 - attack on titan

eren x fem!oc

attack on titan au

inspired by 'see you in my 19th life' webtoon

author's note ; eunji is the 18th life name whilst hyejin is her general name :)

intro : sweet summer day

─━━━━━━⊱✿⊰━━━━━━─

memories are strange entities. they lay dormant in the cave we call the mind until all of a sudden - something as minuscule as a waft of a scent walks by, triggering a forgotten incident from decades ago.

as humans, we wonder about the memories of our previous lives which remain with our souls eternally. we ask questions about: who were we? how did our past selves use to act? perhaps they were delinquents who wreaked havoc on the neighbourhood or perhaps they were a pair of goody-two-shoes who could do no wrong.

maybe we even had a significant other whose love used to fill our days with boundless bliss?

it all seemed like a classified secret which the brain could never gain access to no matter how hard it racked all its neurones in an attempt to search for all the answers.

however, hyejin ban must have been a glitch in the system.

when her first life occurred, she didn't think much of it and lived it to the fullest as much as a working-class girl could in the 1800s (society was something of a different nature in those time). she grew up with plenty of friends and siblings, fell in love with a boy who had lived next door and worked as an average house-wife whilst the husband provided the money required to live comfortably with not much to worry about except for disease.

to say that hyejin was surprised when every detail of her previous self came flooding back to her would be an understatement. there is no word in the english dictionary to describe the shock which devoured her.

she had heard conspiracies of those who claimed to remember fragments of their past lives in her village before however she never thought them to be a thing of truth. it was as if all the memories had been transferred onto a hard drive and inserted into her new body, making her age at least 80 years as her 'life' flashed right before her juvenile eyes.

nonetheless, she tolerated having two sets worth of memories and had a rather quiet, peaceful existence with only her family to bid her a farewell as she silently passed. she watched as the 19th century came to an end and the world transitioned into a new one, marking an end of an era.

flash forward a few more lives and her soul had endured more than anyone could ever comprehend. each body presenting a new perspective on the mixed bag of earth. each body which she took on was distinctly different from the last as all her lives came in all different shapes and sizes as well as randomising which gender she was. from world wars to famine to milestones such as the first man walking on the moon, hyejin's mind remembered it all. only to leave it behind as the never-ending cycle of death and reincarnation continued.

some lives were shorter than others as unfortunate environments cut the thread of life much too soon, leaving much of the life to fall to the pits of hell. sometimes hyejin was treat unfairly as she suffered the struggles of poverty and faced many of the evils which the world had to offer. yet instead of living filled with resentment and agony, she took these as opportunities to grow wiser as a being. eventually, school became repetitive as the knowledge taught had already been ingrained within her.

as hyejin became used to her circumstances and gained a better understanding of what was happening, she set rules to live by. one of which was to let go of any burdens and troubles of past lives which could mental strain to her present and subsequent self.

﹝•••﹞

hyejin was rebirthed for the 18th time as 'eunji yun' and quickly she learnt that she had been born with a silver spoon in her mouth. she grew up surrounded by maids ready to cater for her every wish and need, it was a life where money would never be an issue and her family showered her more love than she had ever encountered before. at the age of 6, her family brought a younger sister into the world who not before long began to mean the absolute world to <> and she took it upon herself to fill the other half of the parental figures that was left empty by her hard-working father.

the sun was shining brightly when hyejin's mother guided her to the family car, telling her vaguely that she had business with another mother at another household not too dissimilar from theirs. the girl let her curiosity get the better of her and asked why she had to come along - her mother just turned to look at her with a mischievous glint in her eye and replied with a face plastered with a simple smile that held no information. hyejin despite being wise beyond her years reacted with a childish sigh and dramatic slump in her seat as the car started to drive away.

soon a house in the distance came into view, the car slowing down as the wheels entered the extensive drive. hyejin thought her house had been grand however this house was the epitome of luxury even the air had the distinct smell of the rich. on the journey, she had been told this was the residence of a wealthy chairman whose son was of a similar age to her.

upon walking in she couldn't help but gasp from the grandiose of it all, the chandeliers hung on the ceiling twinkling away as the striking staircase sat in the centre of the foyer. her awe was shattered as she heard a chuckle infused with honey from a woman whose aura held as much awe as the impressive atmosphere of the interior did.

'you must be miss eunji yun, what a pleasure to meet you. i'm carla jeager.'

'pleased to make your acquaintance, thank you for inviting my mother and i to your household.'

all the etiquette lessons were quickly put into action as hyejin's voice uttered the stock response which she had practised numerous times growing up.

carla found the amusement in this textbook conversation and responded with another sweet chuckle

'no need to be so formal, your mother and i are very good friends, please make yourself at home.'

she spoke with such a heart-warming tone that felt so down to earth, it was like listening to melodic tunes of birds chirping - you wouldn't believe that her family was one with the highest status and wealth.

'carla, should we brew a pot of tea?'

her mother interjected whilst handing over her faux fur jacket to the maid who had discreetly made their way beside hyejin in the foyer. she had not even noticed that she had already slipped off her diamond-encrusted heels.

'ah, what a good idea! let's move to the kitchen'

eagerly the pair of mothers walked side by side already engrossed in a different conversation it was clear that they had much to catch up on.

swiftly after pulling her sneakers off, hyejin started to take a few steps before carla turned around, halting her,

'there's no need to follow us, i'm sure you would have a far more entertaining time with my son who you will find in the library up the stairs. will you be able to find your way?'

hyejin hadn't noticed the glow which consumed her eyes as she smiled at her, there was an extremely low probability that she wouldn't do what carla had asked of her.

'of course ma'am, don't worry too much about me and please proceed with your intended business.'

as hyejin heard the receding the steps of the mothers she couldn't quite help but catch wisps of their conversation.

'she conducts and speaks so eloquently for a 12-year-old.'

'sometimes i forget that she's even a child at all.'

holding onto the handrails, she looked back with a knowing smile as she began her descent up the stairs. following carla's instructions, the library was easily found. the walls filled to brim with all types of books from fairytales to encyclopedias on insects and ladders at every corner to aid with the books at the very top shelf that was too high for even the tallest of humans. the centre of the room held plush sofas and chairs clearly carefully chosen for the purpose of being able to read enjoyably.

hyejin's eyes fixed themselves onto a figure, not much taller than the 3rd shelf, desperately trying to grab at a book that was just out of his reach. his tiptoes only doing so much to increase his height, the girl scoffed in amusement at the sight in front of her and strolled over to the black-haired boy.

'need a hand?'

she hadn't meant for there to be a snarky tone however the words which tumbled out appeared as condescending when in reality she had just wanted the tiny boy who had yet to have a growth spurt.

'who are you? i don't need any help.'

his brows were furrowed together and his voice filled with defensiveness - hyejin thought to herself that it would be entertaining to watch this stuck up boy act in a childish manner.

going against the prideful boy's wishes, she reached over his head to slide the book that he wanted out of the bookshelf.

it wasn't long before reams and reams of disgruntled refusals came flowing out his mouth.

'get out of my way'

well, he was certainly direct with the way he spoke and with his words.

'you're in the way-'

the exasperated boy did not get to finish his second rude remark before being smacked on the face by the book which he had so urgently wanted.

this is what you most definitely call karma.

'you should mind your manners kiddo'.

it barely took a second before an ear-splitting screech encompassed the whole house.

─━━━━━━⊱✿⊰━━━━━━─

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soothinghymn · 5 years ago

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Character Interview: Epitome

I couldn’t resist, I love my tiefling wizard daughter.

Saw @s0tc’s post tagging anyone interested, and knew I had to go for it. Not sure who the hell would be interviewing her, but I’m interested in playing around with her written voice, so we’re doing this anyway.

For the mutuals who are my party members in this campaign: some backstory spoilers follow. I tried to keep them fairly vague, but there is some info here that you don’t have yet. Just a heads-up.

Tagging: Anyone who feels like it!!

(This art is a commission I got from @needlesslycryptic, btw — see the full portrait here, if you haven’t already!!)

► NAME ➔ She brings a hand up toward the hollow of her throat, gesturing to her person. “I’m Epitome. Pleasure.” That last word sounds distinctly insincere.

► ARE YOU SINGLE ➔ She exhales in a half-hearted laugh. “Of course.”

► ARE YOU HAPPY ➔ "Hm, that’s a weird question. I suppose I’m as happy as I can be, but... well. Ambitions keep people on their toes.”

► ARE YOU ANGRY ➔ "At you? No.” She gives you a look of mild amusement. “At certain individuals and organizations who shall, for now, remain nameless? Very much so.”

► ARE YOUR PARENTS STILL MARRIED ➔ Her eyes narrow. “Oh, I don’t even know if they’re still alive, much less if their relationship survived." She comes across as rather dismissive.

NINE FACTS

► BIRTH PLACE ➔ “Right here in Baldur’s Gate, although I left for a while, at a fairly young age. Been back here for about...” She stops to do the math in her head. “Eight years now.”

► HAIR COLOR ➔ “It’s white. You can see me, can’t you?”

► EYE COLOR ➔ “Why ask when you can just observe?” She leans forward slightly, half inviting, half daring you to do the same. Behind her glasses, her eyes are a milky white to match her hair. At first they seem to be one solid hue, but on closer inspection she does have irises and pupils, only slightly offset in color from the rest of the eyes. They’re staring directly at you.

► BIRTHDAY ➔ “The 27th of Flamerule, 1469 DR.** I’m 25 years old.”

► MOOD ➔ “Oh, just ecstatic to be here.” She sounds sarcastic again, but her smile is genuine.

► GENDER ➔ “I generally prefer to be seen as a lady. But I’m not picky.”

► SUMMER OR WINTER ➔ “Hard to choose. I think I enjoy the summer myself, but... people appreciate fire more in winter. If you take my meaning.”

► MORNING OR AFTERNOON ➔ “Afternoon. More people out and about.”

EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE

► ARE YOU IN LOVE ➔ "No. Should I be?”

► DO YOU BELIEVE IN LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT ➔ “Not particularly.”

► WHO ENDED YOUR LAST RELATIONSHIP ➔ "Who said I’ve ever been in a relationship? Quite frankly, I don’t understand what all the fuss is about.”

► HAVE YOU EVER BROKEN SOMEONE’S HEART ➔ “Possibly, but not in the way you’re thinking.”

► ARE YOU AFRAID OF COMMITMENTS ➔ "All commitments I make are to myself, first and foremost, so there is nothing to fear.”

► HAVE YOU HUGGED SOMEONE WITHIN THE LAST WEEK? ➔ “Does a fey spirit in the form of a winged cat count?”

► HAVE YOU EVER HAD A SECRET ADMIRER ➔ “If I have, I’d like to think I’d have known about it... and maybe found a good use for it. But nothing comes to mind, so no. I doubt it.”

► HAVE YOU EVER BROKEN YOUR OWN HEART? ➔ “I have regrets, if that’s what you mean. But I prefer to take chances and live with my mistakes, then regret never trying at all.”

SIX CHOICES

► LOVE OR LUST ➔ “You really enjoy asking questions about my nonexistent love life, don’t you? Why don’t you answer this question for me?”

► LEMONADE OR ICED TEA ➔ “Both.”

► CATS OR DOGS ➔ “Cats... but I’ve come around to dogs a little. Lived with someone who really liked them.”

► A FEW BEST FRIENDS OR MANY REGULAR FRIENDS ➔ “I prefer a great number of casual acquaintances.”

► WILD NIGHT OUT OR ROMANTIC NIGHT IN ➔ “Again with the romance! I’m starting to get annoyed.” She doesn’t sound annoyed; she sounds like she’s teasing.

► DAY OR NIGHT ➔ “Night.” She grins. Her canines are longer than average. “I can see in the dark.”

FIVE HAVE YOU EVERS

► BEEN CAUGHT SNEAKING OUT ➔ “Yes, many times. No one ever seemed to care much, though— well, except the one time.”

► FALLEN DOWN/UP THE STAIRS ➔ “Graciously, no. Not yet, anyway.”

► WANTED SOMETHING/SOMEONE SO BADLY IT HURT? ➔ "I still do.” She doesn’t elaborate.

► WANTED TO DISAPPEAR ➔ "At one time, yes. Badly. But not anymore.”

FOUR PREFERENCES

► SMILE OR EYES ➔ “Here we go again,” she says flippantly. “Taking a non-romantic angle: I can tell a lot about a person by their eyes. Smiles, on the other hand, tend to be used as a disguise for all sorts of ugly emotions.” As if to prove her point, she smiles wide.

► SHORTER OR TALLER ➔ “Doesn’t matter to me.”

► INTELLIGENCE OR ATTRACTION ➔ She takes a more serious tone than usual to answer. “I love learning. Knowledge has always been, and will always be, my greatest pursuit in life.” She relaxes a bit, begins speaking more casually again. “So obviously, I like conversing with smart people... or at least, people who can provide the information I want.”

► HOOK-UP OR RELATIONSHIP ➔ “How does ‘neither’ sound?”

FAMILY

► DO YOU AND YOUR FAMILY GET ALONG ➔ "Depends on what you consider my family. If you mean my birth parents, then no. Absolutely not. If you mean my...” She deliberates for a moment. “...my teacher, then also no, although at least he sort of saw me as a person. Enough to let my young, stupid self argue with him a few times, and not smite me where I was standing.”

► WOULD YOU SAY YOU HAVE A “MESSED UP LIFE” ➔ "Definitely,” she deadpans.

► HAVE YOU EVER RAN AWAY FROM HOME ➔ "Yes.” Then she adds with mock reassurance, “I had some help.”

► HAVE YOU EVER GOTTEN KICKED OUT ➔ “Hmm. More like my teacher kicked himself out, leaving me to get my affairs in order on my own.”

FRIENDS

► DO YOU SECRETLY HATE ONE OF YOUR FRIENDS ➔ “If I did, I wouldn’t tell you. That’s the sort of thing you keep to yourself, in case said ‘friend’ could still do you a solid.”

► DO YOU CONSIDER ALL OF YOUR FRIENDS GOOD FRIENDS ➔ “No... although I have a surprisingly good feeling about a few people I’ve met recently.”

► WHO IS YOUR BEST FRIEND ➔ “Winnie! She’s, uh... she’s my familiar. In case that wasn’t clear.”

► WHO KNOWS EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU ➔ “Well, my teacher knows more about me than most people.” She sighs, her face falling just a little for the first time. “An extremely powerful mage, off doing god-knows-what in god-knows-where... has potential dirt on me.” She gives you a wry smile. “Remember when I said I have regrets?”

** Yes I bothered to look up the Forgotten Realms calendar for this question — in irl terms, she was born toward the end of July.

#d&d #dnd #5e #dnd 5e #descent into avernus #duck gang goes to hell #oc: epitome

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saidbyes-blog · 6 years ago

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( FRIEND OF GRANT'S ) ebony harrison ( 24 / she/they ): demigirl & friends who seemingly clicked despite emotional distance, and acquaintance of mallory's. ( nina nesbitt ) ( PACE / 20+ / SHE/HER )

hello ! so, i’m typing this up straight after acceptance ( lmao, talk about eager ) so hopefully anything i inevitably forget, i can add between now and when this’ll actually be posted, so you actually have some decent info to work with ! but i’m pace ( which is obviously an alias but,,,, pls just call me pace ! ) and my pronouns are she/her ! and moving on to the one you actually wanna know about...

—– ❀ okay, so !! as you can see above, ebony is a friend of grant’s ! on the surface, they seem to just ‘get’ eachother, but of course ebony is completely oblivious to who he really is and what he’s capable of. however, because ebony isn’t the most open and uhh,,, Not-Closed-Off as people, it kind of works ? in a,,,, neither of them ask too many questions kind of way ? it’s mutual, y’know ?she kind of sees him as a guy who’s Not Like The Other Guys ( while lowkey a voice in the back of her head is like ALL GUYS ARE LIKE THE OTHER GUYS ) and they just seem to Understand eachother. but ebony can be a sceptical little fuck, and she’s generally just Wary in general sometimes, but she also wants to believe that some people are good and their intentions are as they seem and it’s Pure. even if she EVER got creepy vibes from grant, she’d either be like CREEP EVIL NASTY BYE SEE YA or convince herself she’s making it up because of relationships with people in the past. but ofc, the worst part is that he’s never given her any reason to think grant is anything but just a nice, charming guy who’s maybe a little pretentious and quiet but that’s basically the worst thing about him, and if it were to happen now, she’s in too deep for it to be a red flag. yoikes. but we all know that to everyone else he just looks like a,,, Nice Guy. either way, he’s a friend, and their lack of actually being as close as they may seem isn’t that weird for her ( which i shall explain in a different bullet point bc this is long ! )

—– ❀ she isn’t a complete plum, and won’t turn a blind eye forever, but in the recent months/so far, she’s come to grant’s defence, thinking that anybody who’s pointed the finger at him is a) unoriginal and b) has clearly never met him. she thinks it’s cruel and unnecessary. like, her pov is that he lost his girlfriend, who told the story of what happened/was going to happen to her, and it’s as simple as that, in a ‘why would mallory write about that otherwise’ kind of way. she’s applying logic to it and i’m like oh,,, honey,,, you sweet summer child,,, plus, grant’s manipulative ass is looking all kinds of charming and innocent and whatever. HOWEVER, things slowly unfolding and eventually ebony beginning to question things ! yes pls ! internal conflict !

—– ❀ however, ebony also briefly vaguely knew mallory ! she attended a few of her yoga classes ages ago, and it’s a complete coincidence that ebony knew the both of them. if/when grant ever mentioned mallory to ebony, the name wouldn’t have clicked, and since she never met her outside of the classes, it took her a while to click why mallory looked so familiar when everything blew up after her death. it kind of weirds her out that someone she knew was murdered, and that it never clicked that Grant’s Girlfriend was the one who taught those yoga classes, but it’s just a complete coincidence !

—– ❀ TW FOR ABUSE MENTION: ebony hasn’t read the book, and doesn’t plan on it. she might one day if she’s feeling impulsive and self destructive, but because of the subject matter, she’s avoiding it. it had nothing to do with being grant’s friend ( even though most people would probably question if it’s the Moral and Ethical thing to do, that doesn’t even cross her mind -- she’s not the most moral of people tbh ) and has more to do with the fact that she’s been in an abusive relationship in the past, herself, and she’s just like............nope. ( / end of tw ! )

—– ❀ she didn’t grow up in new york, and has only called it home for for a few years. but she also travels a lot, and is very flaky, and can disappear for periods of time just to show up announced a few weeks later. it’s not weird for her to drop off the grid for a bit ( sounds safe, ebs ) and it’s not weird for her to ditch social circles and local hangouts in general and just ghost, and she’s also lived in several different states across the country. she cannot commit to anything ever, including places. it’s actually odd that she’s been in new york for so long, but she loves the energy and the spirit of the city. and it’s massive so if she tires of a certain spot, she can drift elsewhere ! plus.........plot convenience.

—– ❀ sometimes she might feel a little out of place tbh ! she’s not an academic and she definitely didn’t come from money, and doesn’t have an abundance of it now, either. she’s a bartender, as that’s always her job when i play her lmao, but i might give her another too but i’m still flipping back and forth so..... tbd !

—– ❀ TW FOR DEATH: a bit of background: she was born in california to amelia robinson & david harrison, a young couple who hadn’t been together all that long when they found out they were expecting, but were madly in love nonetheless. david was completely devoted to his daughter, but he sadly died when she was seven. after his death, some hard truths to swallow came out about him, and her already distraught mother was even more heartbroken. life was pretty rough after his death and her mother couldn’t really cope anymore and became someone that ebs ended up not really recognising, and she became kind of cruel. she’s since forgiven her mother for who she became and therefore how she then treated her daughter, but they’re not close. ebony left cali for a few years after turning seventeen, and when she returned at twenty, she found her father’s broken watch, which she sometimes still wears now. it looks out of place on her thin wrist, especially since the damn thing doesn’t work, but she likes it nonetheless and refuses to get it fixed. in ways like that, she can be,,, a little pretentious ( again, why her friendship with grant works ) and while we’re on the subject of that..... ( / tw ends ! )

—– ❀ her personality is a little messy. she can be very........difficult ? especially as a friend ? though she’s kind-hearted and forgiving and can be very gentle, she’s also temperamental and vague and selfish. she doesn’t mean to be selfish, but she just is. it’s,,, probably infuriating to some people ? as well as the fact that she’s very easily misunderstood due to being hard to understand. yet she also doesn’t like people making the effort to try and understand. yet also wants someone in her life who does understand her. like.........she wants something, but won’t let anybody make the steps to get the thing she wants ? like.............jfc, ebs. she also cannot deal with anything, and it’s not uncommon for somebody to think that everything is going fine and they’re getting on with her great, but then shit hits the fan and the real things happen and she’s like !!! bye !!! so, again, she’s a bit of a flight risk right now. bc like...... well, a murder’s a pretty big thing, my dudes. but also, in her mind, one of her friends is going through some Big Stuff what with his girlfriend being “murdered by her ex” so although most people would be like “gosh golly i should be there for him” there’s a part of ebony that’s like “cannot............deal...............want.......................to yeet.........” but because it’s his Trauma to deal with, it’s easier for her to stay. for example, if something happened between herself and grant that was mutual ( no matter what it was ) that caused angst, that’d be more of a reason for her to Yeet because it directly effects her ? if that at all makes sense ?

—– ❀ quick thing about gender and pronouns !! gender is messy and complicated ( to her ) and she accepted that long ago, but she identifies as a demigirl. her pronouns are she/her, HOWEVER she really appreciates when people use they/them when she hasn’t explicitly stated her pronouns to somebody. she just ,,, thinks it’s the respectful thing to do, but it also makes her feel Valid. she mostly identifies with the gender she was assigned at birth, and tends to present very femininely, but that doesn’t make her any less nb, y’know ? and she doesn’t like people,,, forgetting that she’s Not A Woman ? a lot of the time she’s worried people won’t see her as being nb and even her nb friends she’s sometimes convinced will just forget she’s Not A Woman ?? however, she’s okay with sometimes being referred to as a girl, but always on her own terms. like.......her mobile header literally says ‘sad girls club’ but like..... on her own terms, y’know ? so tldr: if we could pls refrain from referring to her as like ‘the woman’ or ‘the girl’ in threads, that’d be greatly appreciated !

—– ❀ some extras if you want to see/read more about the goblin: stats, playlist, pinterest, aesthetic, old drabbles*, old about/drabble. she doesn’t have a full bio, as the last one i wrote ended up being over 7k words and honestly.........who has the time

* if you click this one, please be aware that trigger warnings apply for abuse, as well as vague/tiny mentions of pregnancy.

extra connections !!! if u want !!!! idk !!!

—– ❀ friends from out of town ! if anybody is from anywhere else in the u.s outside of ny, or they spent a lot of time somewhere else, they totally could’ve known eachother a few years ago. bc ebony has lived in several different places, i can probably wiggle things around and make it work no matter what state they’ve lived in !

—– ❀ friends ! as you might’ve gathered from the rest of the intro, ebony can be a little Difficult, but she’s still kind at heart, and can be soft, and thoughtful ! so, friends that have no problem with her, friends who call her out on her bullshit, friends who she’s ditched in the past, friends she parties with, friends who have tried to Fix her, friends she trusts more than most, etc etc ! as the great sutton foster once said, anything goes !

—– ❀ fwb/hook-ups/flings/exes ! whether they’re things of the past or kind of ongoing, it’s pretty open ! ebony likes people of any and all genders, and ( not dissimilar to mallory, actually ! ) has no problems spreading her love around. which is basically the beating-around-the-bush way of saying she has a lot of sex with a lot of people, and i support her ( ... eh, when it’s healthy ) but one night stands, friends that have no problem keeping things causal, people she dated for a while, something that started casual but Feelings happened and it’s messy, all kinds of stuff is good to go !

—– ❀ people who were also in the yoga classes mallory taught at the time ! it would’ve been a while ago but if the Yoga Peoples would’ve been there back in the day too then perfect !

—– ❀ grant’s other friends ! people who met through grant ! we all have that friend we met through a mutual murderer, right ? or someone who eb met through grant and they can’t fucking stand eachother ? someone she met through grant but then shagged and now it’s awkward ? people who were actually friends with eachother first and one of them introduced grant to the other ? people who she only met at mallory’s funeral bc they were both there to support their murderous pal ? having the two of ‘em meet unrelated and then find out casually like oh shit u know my good bitch grant ? wild ! all kinds of shit !

—– ❀ roommates ! what are the realistic chances of a group of roomies all knowing either the gal who got murdered or her boyfriend ? slim as fuck but plot convenience !! maybe two or three roomies ? ny’s expensive and ebony isn’t a rich gal !

—– ❀ tbh though i also really love just.......... throwing the characters into a situation and seeing how things go, and having people meet for the first time and stuff, but i also love pre-plotted and intenser stuff, and messy/complicated plots work really well with eb ! i love all kinds of things, i’m down for w/e. while we’re on connections though, i tend to suck with plotting and i’m sometimes a little slow with ims, but i just want to make that Known so it’s not taken personally or anybody thinks i’m not interested anymore or anything ! i’m definitely replying, i promise !

okay so if you read all of this, you’re a saint and greatly appreciated ! apologies for the rambling ! feel free to drop by if you’d like to plot or anything like that ! ps. pls enjoy the fact that i scheduled this while watching the ted bundy thing on netflix, bc it tickled me. bit too fitting huh lads.

#minehqintro #❀ — ʜᴏᴡ ɢᴏᴅᴅᴀᴍɴ ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ɪ ᴀᴍ ﹙ooc.﹚#so fun fact i had this scheduled bc i was p sure i wasn't gonna be around #and yet.......here i am......#available for posting in Real Time #HELLOOOO

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possiblyamarvelousavenger · 6 years ago

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The Dude with the Glowing Paint | Artist!Bucky Barnes x Gender-Neutral!Artist!Reader

Summary: art’s great, but spending hours in a small gallery can get very boring, very fast, but meeting another artist makes it better

Warnings: one Titanic reference, lil’ bit faster past than usual, more of a 40’s!Bucky personality than Post-Hydra!Buck, nothing else I don’t think

Word Count: 1.1k

A/n: first off, thank you very much @stardustandbucky for motivating/encouraging me, I started 3 fics and got around to labeling the others

Also, I spent at least one day a month in my grandma’s art gallery since I can remember—sometimes other galleries—so this is all very familiar and if you’re wondering, this is the weird plastic cup I’m talking about in this fic

— — —

Standing in front of one of the largest paintings, I frowned—I missed a spot when I went over it with a fine tooth comb.

I had graduated art school a year ago and I was lucky enough to get my art into a gallery via the help of a friend’s friend. It also meant I’d have about ten feet more of space in my apartment for a month.

As it was opening night of my exhibit, I decided to wander around until I had to go to work—lucky it was also the opening night for another artist about thirty paces away from mine, so we had each others friends mixing—not that I knew who the other artist was.

“You’re staring very intensely at that flower.”

I glanced to my right, seeing a guy with smirk—much more casual than literally everyone in the building. He had his hair in a bun and punch in one of those weird shaped plasic cups that were supposed to look like glass.

“Zoned out,” I said, taking a deep breath and looking back at the painting. I hadn’t socialized with straight up strangers since the beginning of art school.

“First honest person tonight,” he commented.

I let out a laugh, covering my mouth. “‘Know what you mean, second honest person,” I said, smiling.

“So which is your favorite?” He asked, making a vague motion towards my exhibit.

“My grandma would say you can’t choose a favorite,” I said slowly. “I’d say I prefer that other dude’s art.”

He chuckled. “Dude,” he started, smiling, “I have to disagree with you.”

“Arguing with you would be like arguing about music,” I sighed out, shaking my head with a grin. “But’cha’re wrong—that dude uses glow-in-the-dark paint, this dude doesn’t.”

“You noticed that?” He asked with a bit of astonishment.

“It’s got that weird green tint,” I shrugged, looking back at him, and studying his face this time—a half smirk half smile, gentel blue eyes and his eyebrows were furrowed, skeptically.

“Glow-in-the-dark paint makes you like that dude more than this one?” He asked.

“Totally, I have no respect for anyone who doesn’t use glow-in-the-dark paint,” I said, half joking.

He hummed, nodding. A blonde guy came up to him and tapped him on the shoulder. “Hey, Bucky, Peggy and I are gonna head home,” the blonde guy said. “Have fun with that sarcastic flirting.”

“Dunno what you’re talkin’ ‘bout, and it’s a lot better than the flustered flirting you do,” he said. “See ya later, punk.”

When the blonde one left, I leaned towards him. “Bucky as in the dude that uses glow-in-the-dark paint?” I asked, raising my eyebrows mischievously.

“Knew I should’ve used James,” he said, sticking out his hand. “Bucky Barnes, nice to meet you.”

“(Y/n) (y/l/n), pleasure to make your acquaintance,” I said, shaking his hand. He raised his eyebrows and jabbed his thumb towards my painting. I just nodded.

“How does a proper artist like my stuff?” He asked.

“Proper artist? You have an exhibit at the same gallery as I do,” I said, rolling my eyes. “And ya gotta reevaluate your view on my taste, because I really want to go check out the paper mache cat show on the floor below us.”

“There’s a paper mache cat show? Would anyone be angry if we abandoned this and went down there?” He asked, with hopeful wide eyes.

“We don’t technically have to be here, it’s just polite to watch people judge your abilities—let’s go look at paper mache cats,” I said, smiling.

We ran off like children to the lower floor, abandoning the formality of our gallery and stepped into a crazy room full of wild people and colorful paper cats.

“I suddenly feel very over dressed,” I commented as we entered the gallery.

“Considering there’s a lady wearing a bright orange feather scarf, I wouldn’t worry about it,” he said with a smirk.

I let out a laugh. “Dude… that scarf looks fabulous,” I said, playfully punching his shoulder.

“If I could find one, think I could pull it off?” He asked.

“Oh, if you find one, you find me, and I will a sketch you wearing it and make sure it goes down in history,” I said.

“That a promise or a threat?” He asked. “I think that would be a great way to go down in history.”

We walked around the gallery, joking, laughing and admiring paper cats. He went to put his empty punch cup in the recycling bin and cane back with two bowls of ice cream.

“Wasn’t sure if you wanted chocolate or vanilla, so your pick,” he said, holding them both out.

I carefully picked up one, smiling. “What do I owe you?” I asked.

“A sketch of me in an orange feather scarf,” he said. “Nah, don’t worry about it, it was free.”

“Free ice cream and a causal atmosphere—there doing it wrong up stairs,” I said, smiling happily.

“They are,” he agreed with a mouthful of ice cream.

We continued to wander around till we saw every paper cat twice and all the photos on the walls. We talked about how we got into painting—I was born into it and he picked it up as a hobby, “art therapy, really” he had corrected himself, and his friends persuaded him to try to put it in a show.

He also said he had to be careful about where he put his paintings because having glow-in-the-dark paint stare you down while you tried to sleep was unnerving.

An alarm on my phone went off, interrupting my story about my weird professor who wore kilts and flip-flops to class year-round.

“I’ve got to get to work,” I said, letting out a sigh. I ummed for a moment before pulling my card from my cardigan pocket and held it out to him. “Text me if you find an orange feather scarf—I don’t answer calls if I don’t know the number.”

— — —

Bucky and I texted over a month, a met up with him for lunch a couple times with his friends or mine—the only real difference between his and mine were mine were mostly artists who still ate instant ramen noodles and most of his were over achievers; two of them were engaged, completely over achieving.

One afternoon, after a long nightshift at the diner, I received some texts from him while I made coffee.

Bucky: Dude

Bucky: Dude, guess what

Then a selfie came in of him in a fluffy orange feather scarf, beaming. It looked like he was in a homemade soap and crafts shop.

Bucky: Jake, I want you to draw me like one of your French girls,

Me: Don’t finish that quote

Me: I drew a French girl once, in a baggy sweater and sweatpants

Bucky: Do you still have that drawing?

Bucky: If I take you out to dinner, can I finish that quote?

Me: Did you just ask me out?

Me: I mean yes, to both of those things

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x gender neutral reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky imagine #bucky fanfic #artist!bucky

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detroitbecomehumanwritings · 6 years ago

Text

Virtual Love (4/?)

Co-Writer: @500shadesofblue Pairing: Connor/DFAB!Reader (Gender is unspecified) Rating: T (Chapter), NC-17 (Entire Fic) Chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 Summary: Virtual reality is becoming the next great evolution of technology: some say on-par with Elijah Kamski’s breakthrough design of the first modern-day android. It has immeasurable potential; to enhance, to assist, and to completely break the bounds of our reality.

You, as a member of the team spearheading the technology in a branch within Cyberlife, have developed a working prototype. It’s finally finished; all that’s left is a series of trials to check if it’s functioning properly.

On the first test run, however, you find an android named Connor standing in the middle of your virtual kitchen.

Several nights later, you’ve almost gotten into a routine.

The android you encounter in your prototype tests is an… intrigue. It’s far more advanced than any android you’ve ever encountered. Connor is interesting, and once your alarm at his presence wore off, his opinions, his questions, enthrall you. You’ve never spoken this way with an android before, talking just for talking’s sake, and making conversation actually gives you something to think about after a long day of industrial labor.

...Dammit. There you go again. Calling Connor a ‘he.’

“Hey, Connor,” you say lazily. You’re laying on your back, outside in the meadow again, drawn to its sunshine and splendor after a couple days in the real world with dreary rain. Connor, ever respectful, is a couple feet away, properly seated, cross-legged and presumably ramrod straight. You wouldn’t know- you’re staring up at the sky. It’s bright and clear, but you know that the sky in the real world is dark and strewn with stars.

Not that you can see any stars in Detroit.

“Yes?” he says. You exhale softly, feeling the warmth of the earth below, seeing the blue of the sky above. Today - or rather, tonight - it’s filled with puffy white clouds drifting across its expanse.

“Do you have a gender?”

The air is thick with tension, his hesitation almost audible. You keep your eyes on the clouds.

“...What does it matter?” He finally says, and alright, that definitely wasn’t the road you were expecting him to take.

“I…” You almost want to sit up, feel that the subject matter is serious enough that it’s warranted, but you want to hang onto the plausible deniability that staying still, staring up at the sky gives you. You let your thoughts percolate, brewing your ideas, arranging them into a picture you’re ready to present.

“I’m big on respecting what people want to be called, whatever that may be,” you finally say, rawly honest. And by this point… you’re not going to say it, but you’ve been talking with him for almost a week. The level of familiarity you’ve reached is beyond acquaintances, from coin tricks to twenty questions, suspicion to wariness to peaceful acceptance.

“And even if you’re an android, and not ‘people,’” you continue, a bit awkward, “to tell you the truth… it’s been pretty damn confusing in my head.”

“Oh?” he says. You can’t quite discern his tone.

You don’t know why you’re telling him the truth, but… it’s easier. Plus, who’s he going to tell? “I keep going back and forth in my head,” you confess, “between calling you ‘he’ and ‘it.’” It feels like an ugly confession, halfway-between perfectly acceptable and strange. “I thought it’d finally settle the matter if I asked you what you’d prefer. No harm in it, right? Either way, I can get it settled.” And I can stop agonizing about it.

“It’s kind of you to ask my opinion,” Connor says, and behind the soft tones of his voice, you can hear the grass and flowers rustling. “It’s very considerate.”

“It’s not… I’m not being considerate,” you say, oddly defensive, because you’re not . You’ve barely known this android for a week, and you’ve talked every night, but… “It’s not kind to ask what people prefer. It’s common decency, especially if you’re unsure. Just because you’re an android doesn’t mean you don’t…”

Have feelings.

“...doesn’t mean you don’t care about what you’re called,” you finish, lamely.

“Still,” Connor says, “it’s polite of you.”

Your social patterns, honed over decades of interacting with humans and trying to be mindful and respectful, get weirdly mixed up when you’re actually speaking with an android, interacting for a long period of time. Plus, you don’t know how to keep contradicting him without sounding both ungrateful and like an ass, so you just lay there, breathing slow, looking at the sky.

“Androids don’t have… don’t have natural gender, as such,” Connor finally says, breaking the silence, “at least not the way that human beings do.”

This is your cue to sit up.

You lift your arms up from your sides, reaching forwards, heaving yourself up from horizontality. You’re in a simple, loose tank top (can’t go braless while expecting company, even if the company is an android) and a ratty pair of knee-length shorts, loose and comfortable. With all your bare skin, the grass feels lovely, and the sunshine even lovelier.

You finally sit yourself in a comfortable position again, and when you look at Connor, his eyes are transfixed on your face in that odd way he does- unblinking, intent, absorbing information keenly.

“Go on,” you say, ignoring his staring, scooting to face him. You cross your legs, propping your elbows on your knees and your face on your hands. The way you’re sitting, now, you’re facing him, a little less than two feet away. This close, you can see all the subtle shifting expressions on his face, the yellow flickering of his LED made golden by the sunlight.

“Androids don’t have gender, as such,” he says eventually, looking away. You turn your gaze in the same direction, looking over the field of endless flowers. Among the kaleidoscope of color, you spy splotches of pale purple in clusters of green, heart-shaped leaves.

Dog-violets.

“Our preferences are… hardwired into us,” Connor continues, voice distant. “Gender makes humans comfortable. So, as such, I do prefer being called a ‘he’ over an it.”

There. There’s your answer.

“Plus,” Connor says, and you feel his gaze on the side of your face. “Being referred to with gendered pronouns facilitates integration, as it humanizes us in the eyes of others.”

Right.

“So you’re good with ‘he’?” You say, turning back to look at him. In another one of his typical expressions (which you recognize even in the short time you’ve known him), his eyebrows are slightly drawn together, mouth subtly downturned.

“Yes,” he says, a note of finality in his voice. “In fact, I’d even say that I prefer it.”

“Okay,” you say cheerfully. You pivot neatly, flopping back down in the grass. You can feel the smile blooming on your face.

You don’t know why, but you feel lighter.

“Does that answer your question?” he says, voice filtering down from above. He almost sounds amused.

“Yup,” you say, popping the p. “Perfectly, thanks.”

“Why did you want to know?” He says.

You don’t know why he’s pressing this.

“It doesn’t kill me to give common courtesy,” you say, a small frown on your face. “Even if it’s just to an android. When something has a face, when I’ve been talking to it for more than five hours cumulatively… when it has opinions, and questions…” you turn to look at him, and at this angle, you can only see his suit, the slope of his neck, and the hard cut of his jaw. And his mouth.

“It’s hard not to humanize something when things are like that.”

You look away, back at the sky.

“I think I understand,” he says.

After twenty minutes more peaceful silence, laying in the warm grass under the bright blue sky, you tell him see you tomorrow and you log out.

Work is boring.

You spent your life working towards this. Battling through high school, through college, through long hours of internships and grunt work and working your way up the ladder until finally you made it where you wanted to be.

Virtual reality development.

But now that it’s done, you just feel… well, you’re not sure.

You want to test it. Spend all your time inside VR, practicing manipulation, seeing what you can do. But you still have a job, technically, even if all you do is troubleshoot. It’s still not ready to be released to the public; guides need to be written, instructional manuals, tips and tricks and things to be aware of. It’s most of why your whole team is still troubleshooting the damn thing. Such a complex project coming together is bound to create gaps in awareness, blind spots as people focus on perfecting their own corner of the tech. Experiencing VR as a whole gives a fuller, better picture. So…

So, why can’t you test the tech at work?

Well, you left the damn headset at home on your coffee table, that’s why.

So you huff, turning your attention back towards the code you’re reading over for a friend. Mere formalities, at this point. You know it’s completely fine.

When did your nights become the highlight of your day?

You push the thought to the back of your mind and keep working.

That night, you phase into VR between one blink and the next.

Your eyes shoot open and you scan the room- ah. Connor’s on the other side of the couch, his ‘usual’ spot.

“Hey, Connor!” you greet, smiling.

“Hello,” he says, and gives you a slightly sad but evidently genuine attempt at a smile. It terminates somewhere between its command and execution, leaving him with an awkward twist of the lips, but you’re used to it by now.

“Hey, okay, idea,” you say, businesslike.

You see him perk up, attention sharpening.

“We should practice manipulating the virtual reality,” you say, gesturing around the room in a vague, sweeping generality. “It’s all I’ve been thinking about all day, honestly. And I bet you’d be good at it!”

You’re not sure if Connor has practiced conjuration in the time between your little coin trick and now, but if he has, you haven’t seen it.

“I have made several attempts,” he says, and you’re not even surprised that he’s managed to find the time. You’re not sure how you know, but Connor seems… crafty. You have a feeling he’s good at finding loopholes and ways to achieve his goals.

You raise an eyebrow. “How’d they go?”

He smiles at you, and this one almost looks genuine. “Very well, though the tests were simple.”

And, as you watch, holds a hand out in front of him. When your attention refocuses, he clenches his fist, and when it opens…

Slowly, his fingers unfurl, revealing a coin.

You laugh, bright, head bobbing and eyes scrunching shut as the laughter is startled out of you. When you open your eyes, still grinning, Connor’s almost smiling, too.

“Did you enjoy that?” he says.

“It was great!” you can’t help how your voice sounds, unduly enthused. This shit is so cool.

He starts fidgeting with it, but you turn your focus inward. What can you do? Theoretically, your only limits are your own imagination and willpower.

Can you change your appearance?

Whether or not it’s possible, you don’t want to do that, now. For one, you don’t want Connor asking questions. (Or considering doing the same.) You like Connor, you do, but… trust?

Trust is something different entirely.

So you close your eyes and clasp your hands together, holding them in front of you, arms parallel to the ground.

You hear Connor’s distant what are you doing? but you tune him out, focusing inwards. What can I summon? Start simple. How about…

Your mind flicks from object to object, ranging from the practical to the wildly impractical. A red rubber ball. Dancing flames. A glittering, gem-encrusted dragonfly. A purple blossom. An ornate, painted egg.

An egg…

You feel something building between your palms. Warm, and tingling, almost. Like a word, on the tip of your tongue, but you can’t quite…

And then there’s something between your hands, forcing them a few inches apart to make room, and your eyes fly open.

Your eyes dart to Connor’s face, his eyes transfixed on your hands. You can hear…

Peeping.

You open your cupped palms, slowly, supporting the chirping creature within. You keep looking back and forth, from Connor’s face to your own opening palms, a slow reveal.

You sigh as you take in the sight, settled between cupped palms: A fluffy yellow chick with shiny black button eyes, peeping and looking around. It looks- it looks real , feels warm and downy soft in your hands.

“You’ve created life,” Connor says. He sounds sincere.

“The facsimile of life,” you correct him, a warm smile stealing over your face, using a thumb to stroke the chick lightly along the side of its small, feathered body. You can feel it’s tweets reverberating through its chest, quieting as it settles into your hands, placated by touch.

“It’s very… small,” Connor says, voice quiet. He looks enthralled, more entranced than you’ve ever seen him.

“Do you want to hold it?” you say.

“Oh, I…” he looks almost… embarrassed? But surely, you’re imagining that. “If you want. There’s no purpose to doing so.”

“Here,” you say, soft, holding it out, keeping your palms together, careful not to jostle it. You stop stroking it and it starts cheeping again, but it settles as you stroke a fingertip across its chest.

Connor steps forward, reaching, and cups his hands together under yours, cradling them. Illogically, his hands are warm. Bigger than yours, large enough to easily encompass them. And those facts are… irrelevant. You push them to the back of your mind.

Unbidden, you feel a flush rising to your face as you part your hands, slowly withdrawing. The chick tweets, panicked, as your hands start to move away, and it staggers into the cradle of Connor’s palms. Connor’s fingertips drag against the back of your hand as you pull away- irrelevant . You take a step back: You need some space.

“I can’t scan it,” Connor says, and you can’t read his tone. His voice is soft. “I can only… feel it. I can sense its warmth, and its texture. I can hear it.”

As if called to action, the chick starts peeping furiously, feathers ruffling, looking around frantically.

“Pet it,” you suggest. Your eyes keep flicking back and forth between his hands and his expression. The chick looks even smaller in the cradle of his hands, and his face has a familiar expression on it: intensely focused. “It worked for me.”

“Comfort,” Connor muses, voice low. But he curls his pointer finger away from the rest, stroking along the chick’s feathers, and it quiets.

You want to say I wonder what’ll happen when we log out? But you know what’ll happen to the chick. It’ll stop existing, like everything does in VR. Unless you establish the server permanently… but that’s beyond beta testing, only available when the final version comes out. Your house, the meadow outside… it’s all default, generated every time you enter VR.

“Willpower,” Connor muses, snapping you out of your reverie. The chick is still in his hands- oh, it’s dozing off. It looks like a pile of golden fluff, soothed and quiet by Connor’s petting. “You summoned this… this facsimile of life through willpower. Did you foresee its behavior?”

“No,” you say. “I just pictured…” a baby bird. A chick. The color wasn’t planned, nor its need for… comfort.

“Yes?” Connor prompts.

“I just thought of a baby bird,” you say. “Hatching from an egg.”

When you go into the next session, Connor is absent, as is the chick. Your virtual-cat isn’t there, either.

You’ve never felt more alone.

The next session, Connor’s back.

Your cat - who’s gotten into the habit of settling on your lap for your long, nightly VR sessions - comes along for the ride, too. You know it’s not actually your cat, but it sure acts like your cat, affection, quirks and all. It’s comforting, at least.

So you practice summoning vibrant plumed feathers and scraps of colorful fabric for your cat to play with. Connor, expression colored with amusement, keeps to his side of the couch.

You’re dangling a vibrantly red strand of yarn for your cat (who’s batting at it playfully), jerking it back and forth, when-

A mouse goes flying past your face.

You shriek, jerking back- oh goddammit, Connor.

You shoot him a glare. The mouse - which your cat is racing over to investigate - is currently motionless and clearly mechanical, joints segmented and body hairless, skin a shiny chrome. You can hear whirrs and buzzes as your cat - overjoyed at the superior toy - sprints after it as it starts to scurry.

“Why are you like this,” you say, grumpily settling deeper into the couch.

“I figured I’d utilize my own expertise to contribute towards your goal,” he says smartly. You refuse to look at his face, but you have a feeling that he’s looking smug in his own self satisfied, android-y way.

You grumble, but you both spend the rest of the session chatting softly, watching your cat chase the mechanical mouse around your living room.

That night, as usual, you go to bed with a smile.

(You don’t know how or why, but somehow, Connor has become a part of your routine. Moreover, he’s become the highlight of your day.

Virtual reality and its manipulations are incredible, and you're becoming better and better at twisting reality. Connor, too.

Things were going so well.

It makes sense that something had to break.)

“What...are your thoughts on androids?”

The question catches you off-guard.

You had expected something along the lines of your background, maybe even your professional credentials--it is what most people tend to ask when getting to know someone else. College you graduated from, notable achievements in your career, that sort of thing.

You didn’t actually expect Connor--an android itself--to ask you about your opinions of them.

It’s a bit unnerving, actually. You feel your thoughts flutter for a moment, unable to come up with a response that wasn’t anything more than a jumble of confused noises.

Your thoughts on androids?

“I--well,” You sputter out an attempt of a sentence before coming back to yourself. “Could you clarify? That’s a….really general question.” Not to mention awkward. Odd. It left a slightly sour taste in your mouth.

Connor blinks. You can practically feel him processing your words, though it’s barely a moment of silence before he speaks again.

“Simply your general view on androids as a societal topic.” He speaks as if he’s discussing the weather. “I’ve met many people who think quite negatively of androids for their impact on the job market, among other things. I was wondering how you saw androids due to your position and background.”

His words are fluid, somewhere between sounding rehearsed and spur-of-the-moment that it leaves you feeling off-kilter. Surreal. You’re not sure why he’s asking- did he hear something in real life, during his job, on the topic? Is he coming to you for your opinion? You’re not sure why.

It’s a cold reminder that the being you are speaking to is simply not human.

“Well, I mean…” You can’t keep your eyes on his--they look a hair too intense, too focused. You save the moment by looking out, into the meadow, as if any number of the flowers in the distance caught your attention. “They’re...helpful?”

You hear Connor let out a cut-off hum. Is he asking your opinion for a purpose?

It takes a few seconds to collect your thoughts in a way that sounds professional, deserving of your background and education that should have given you a bit of worth to speak on the topic. You are no expert by any means, but androids were a part of everyday life for a lot of people--they aren’t something you can just choose to ignore. Plus, working for Cyberlife, you can't really afford to have an unprofessional opinion.

“I think that the discovery of androids were a great aid to humanity,” you say, words coming out slowly. You're not sure why you’re so cautious about the words you’re using--he's just an android, it's not like he's going to argue with you. He doesn’t have an opinion. “...I think that, despite the employment issues, androids have been a great tool--” The word sits awkwardly in your mouth. “--in many fields of expertise. Medical, technological, research and development, even childcare.”

Is there a purpose to what you’re even saying? You’re answering the question of an android, what purpose would Connor even want to know--he didn’t even have the capability to have desires.

With the way you talk with Connor, sometimes you forget. But you shouldn’t. No matter what he says, what information he shares… he’s an android.

He’s not human. Why am I even being careful? It’s no different than taking survey answers, right? Asking without a purpose, without a desire--without a soul?

But you answer the question as honestly as you can.

“I’ve met a lot of people who share a less positive outlook than you do for androids in society,” Connor says, tone immeasurable. “It’s interesting to hear the opinions of those around me as I continue with the missions I’ve given.”

Your internal tension breaks, and a huff of amusement comes from your mouth before you can stop it. Connor looks over to you just as your eyes move back to meet his gaze.

“I mean,” You offer him a shrug. “I never thought an android would ask me on my opinions on androids.”

“I am programmed to learn from my environment,” Connor starts. Does he sound defensive? “I am also equipped with a multitude of subroutines to help me incorporate myself in a variety of social situations. I felt it appropriate to ask since you say that you work within Cyberlife.”

“So, you’re curious,” Your words slip from your mouth before you can stop them, a moment of naive amusement against the forgotten truth.

Connor's gaze is hard and cold in return, a quick shift from the gentle look mere moments before. “I have already explained that I do not exhibit curiosity.” Connor definitely sounds defensive as he speaks and it, more than anything, seems surreal. “Seeking information is simply a byproduct of my programming to solve difficult cases that require complex thought processes to work through.”

Oh.

You swallow down a lump in your throat, cold reality settling into your thoughts. You try to save the moment between the two of you, scrabbling together the shredded pieces of the conversation with a half-genuine smile.

“That sounds like curiosity to me, however you want to explain it.”

Connor doesn’t seem to have a response to that. He doesn’t seem to meet your eyes at all after that, staring off instead into the distance, entrenched in his own thoughts. Is he angry at you?

Is it even possible for him to feel anger?

Ten minutes of tense silence later, you wish him curt farewell and log out of the program.

You’re not sure why, but you feel sad.

#dbh #detroit: become human #connor #readershot #virtual love #virtual love chapter #writing #connor readershot #readerinsert #reader insert #connor readerinsert #connor reader insert

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decadentrpg-blog · 6 years ago

Photo

WELCOME ROSE, YOU’VE BEEN ACCEPTED FOR THE ROLE OF ANTONELLA PICQUERY

Admins Note: My favorite femme fatale has arrived to stun us all. I absolutely squealed at your interpretation of Antonella. Every facet of her narcissism, her excessive indulgence and proud ego has been carved out. The sample paragraph had me chuckling, poor bloke! All in all, I can’t wait to see Antonella twirl past midnight, capturing sin with every step she takes. Congratulations on your acceptance again, please make sure to head your way to the checklist and submit your account within the next 24 hours!

OUT OF CHARACTER

Name / Alias: Rose. Pronouns: She/Her. Age: 21. Timezone: EST (GMT +5)

IN CHARACTER

Full Name: Antonella Margaux Picquery Sexuality: Bisexual. Gender/Pronouns: Cis Female. She/Her. Hogwarts House: Slytherin.

Head canons

warning Mentions of death, narcissistic shenanigans.

ONE She caresses her lover’s cheek. I could kill someone, if I needed to, she thinks, and then kisses her. And even if I didn’t need to, I think I could.

TWO There are two sorts of lovers. Curiosities and passions. The former begins on a whim, at the briefest mix of boredom and interest. And is done with and gone as quick as it occured. The second is sweeter and, well. She doesn’t pursue them. She’s too beautiful to pursue anyone or anything. Anything she desires eventually must make its way to her. So she keeps the door open. She sets out the trail of breadcrumbs and waits for them to find themself where she always knew they would. In her thrall. It’s inevitable.

THREE Antonella has a higher tolerance for pretty muggles over ugly wizards. Far better to listen to idle small talk pour from lovely lips, rather than intricate spells from a cracked maw. In fact, she once had a muggle. He glanced about her apartments and laughed, nervous. Irritating. But he looked like the angels had cut him from the night sky. She wanted to sink her teeth into him. So she did. Until one day, she met a golden eyed half veela and left him, forgotten, in Morocco.

& HORUS “Stay with me,” she says. “I love you,” and it feels like the truth. The best lies always do. He stays, she stays, they stay. One day she lies to him and it feels like the truth, tastes like the truth, sounds like the truth. And while she remembers the words in stunned silence (were they the truth? impossible) he leaves.

FIVE Antonella is morbidly blithe and playfully cruel. She believes life is only a series of distractions and games. It is an exercise in enjoyment and the one who lives best is the one who laughs most. So she laughs and lives for herself and her pleasure alone. Labor is what others do to support her wants and her yearnings; worker bees for a queen. She bears them neither gratitude or malice. Her payment is every moment they’re allowed to observe her. What they have is symbiotic. Without culture, the arts, people like her, how could they ever bear their grim, small lives?

SIX Her grandmother dies, face haggard and hidden, and Antonella has never admired anyone more. When her mother comes to slide the veil away, Antonella slaps her hands. This is a final, sacred wish. The aesthetic preserved at all cost. She takes and keeps the lesson. She buries it in her heart, and lets it sprout.

SEVEN No one’s ever made her grow up and so, there are traces of a child’s ambiguous innocence within her. An almost complete absence of empathy for others. An almost impressive preoccupation with herself and her own wants, needs, and comfort. If an acquaintance is weeping, she knows enough to say nothing of her slight hunger, to embrace and comfort them, but she will wonder, wistfully, of when can she go and indulge herself? She has spent her life being spoiled, and sees no reason why that should stop.

EIGHT This’s how her parents regard her: A living doll. A paradox. Dolls don’t live. They exist. They’re displayed and owned. What do dolls exist for, if not to be handled? If not to be the eternal object to another’s subject. Nothing great could come from anything so slight, and delicate. This is the worst hurt of her half life.

& WREN She looks at Wren and says, “Charming.” This has only happened twice before, and the best time had been in an empty glen, her veins full of liquor and delight. The thestral had gazed at her and she at it. A warm, fondness overtook her, the same fondness that heated her neck when she considered Wren, the same fondness she had for all rough diamonds. For the beauty that hid itself in plain sight. With every rebuff and dismissal, the indignant fondness doesn’t diminish. It grows. “Quaint,” she breathes under her breath, as Wren flees her, because she has been here before. She has done this before. And the sweetest part of a thing’s creation is its destruction. The artist knows best how to ruin art. Piecing it all together, building it all up, only to learn its most intimate machination, to know the best way to pluck the heart of it out, and watch it topple. She’s a child demolishing her sand castles, her blood hot and salted. Another game, another dear distraction; the foundation of life.

& EVANDER Antonella never accepts the bill when it comes. It has never and will never occur to her that she should. Sometimes she might consider the morality of an action. That it’s wrong, that it might hurt. But then here is the crux of the matter: She wants, so she does, and she takes. She wants her fiance’s friend, Evander, so she has him, and when she no longer wants him--a whim, a curiosity--he’s tossed aside. Forgotten.

& DARIUS Given the choice, she surrounds herself with beautiful things and beautiful people. Envy is rarely, if ever, a present concern of hers. She would say, I long to be surrounded by beautiful women and beautiful men. And never dream to add, Beautiful, but not as beautiful as myself. What a hypothetical, theoretical waste of breath. Where would she find anyone or anything as beautiful as herself? Or, since she’s already sunk into the depths of myth and fantasy, more beautiful. In a story, or a dream? She may’ve met one such woman, in a nightmare, but it was only Antonella’s reflection arisen from the dark sea. She may’ve met one such woman at a party, where she had been so wrecked with terror and drunkenness and desire that she knew she would die, but it was only her staring back from the window.

So her fiance isn’t as beautiful as her, but she loves to look at him, and be looked upon with him. Has she ever looked finer than with him at her side, than with her at his side, their arms entangled? And has anything ever felt more distant and unsettled, than his hand on her shoulder? Stiff, dry, odd. Lust melts her lovers into her but he remains cold and far off. She might pretend to feel for him romantic distress when she clasps their hands together, but the more time passes the more her passion for him becomes devoured by pride and vanity and sooner or later, rage.

In Character Paragraph

Antonella sways, breathes in air soaked with color and delirium. Smiles at a girl draped in silver sparkle, her mouth like a melted rose. There are whispers and clumsy gazes directed towards Antonella, who preens. There are trumpets and saxophones screaming away into the night. “The muggles are working themselves into a terrible frenzy tonight.” She loves it. Her walk is one-third dance.

“They’re called No Maj,” her companion, Douglas, corrects her, thoughtless, and she ignores him in the same manner. He hasn’t noticed the anticipation of reverie around them. He doesn’t have the nose for it as she does, and he’s too preoccupied with how he must look to her, anyways. Which is just as well.

A Rolls Royce waits to chariot them to an intimate gathering of artists, on the edge of Harlem and nowhere. It’s a convertible; the interior all butterscotch leather that complements her dark silhouette, her cream gown, her easy privilege. Antonella drives because her companion can’t and won’t. Because he becomes wrecked with a terrible sweat at first sight of the automobile. Because she wants to and it’s hers and she ignores his hand wringing. His vague mutterings on humiliation and control. Was this the muggleborn in him talking? How exotic. “I prefer portkey,” he says, finally.

“Oh, darling, you’re no fun,” she replies, snapping her elegant, leather gloves on. Those gloves are too much involved in her excitement to drive. She has been overcome, for the past two days, by the thought of them and how sporty and fine she’ll look with her hands on the wheel. Her hair flying in the wind behind her, a cape of midnight darker than even the night around them.

How glamorous! And irresistable she’ll seem, even more so than she always does, if that’s possible. She regards Douglas, her expression pleasant and juxtaposed against the frost in her eyes, “Don’t tell me you get car sick, Douglas.” If he does, she just might abandon him right there, rather than follow him by portkey, or have him ruin her butterscotch seats. Her heart’s too much set on the idea of herself in the car with her gloves on. She imagines the jittering men and smirking women, their admiring gazes warm against her skin.

Rather than answer her, he gapes at her. His grey eyes wide and striking enough to remind her why she allowed him into her company. “My name is Harold.”

“What is that, Henry?” she asks, his voice lost beneath the engines hum and her own delight. As the car takes off at a terrible speed, he forgets himself and what he means to say. He clutches the dashboard instead. Her smile is serene. His yelps escalate as the vehicle slips off the Manhattan Bridge. The East River swallows them whole, and Antonella peers at the sickly sea life swimming around their bubble.

“How can you call yourself a wizard, Henry? Everything shocks and upsets you.” Ilvermorny must be a poor institution indeed. “It’s almost as if you’ve never been in an enchanted vehicle before.”

“You upset me,” he gasps.

Before she can reply, the car begins to sing, a sweet thrilling blues melody, and Antonella crows along with it, their voices clear and lovely above Douglas’s frantic complaints. The night looks full of possibilities. She can tilt the car just so and shake Douglas out into the blue beyond. (Cruel? Perhaps, but how cruel was he, to bore her so?) She can find someone beautiful and sink with them into the Atlantic. Laugh and drink at the intimate gathering. Laugh and drink at the frenzy behind her, instead, and fill those muggles’ hearts with unexpected rapture. Swim with the sharks. Make love beneath the moon. Or any number of pleasures, as yet undiscovered. How good to be alive. How good to be Antonella.

Extras

Mockblog.Edits.Playlist.

#lsrpg #lsrp #hprp #hprpg #harry potter rp #accepted

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amusewithaview · 7 years ago

Text

Drunk-Dialing Wormholes (MCU/Tolkien crossover)

A/N: This is for @uru-viel who recently Did a Very Cool Thing.

As a general rule, Darcy was against drunk!science.

She was, in fact, usually the voice of reason that shouted down the drunk!science. Darcy, as a general rule, tended to prefer drunk!dancing or drunk!marathons (preferably of B-level slasher films). Darcy did not think that drunk and science should be in the same hemisphere, let alone the same lab. The closest she had ever come to drunk!science was when she attempted to figure out the tip at Waffle House at 3:00AM on Thursday night.

Everyone made interesting decisions in college.

Today, she was making an exception to her general rule. Today was a day for exceptions and skirting of rules and ignoring of guidelines. Today was the day of Jane and Thor’s break-up. Darcy would call it ‘the big break-up’ but, truth be told, the relationship ended with more of a whimper than a bang. There was long distance and then there was long distance, she was honestly impressed that they’d managed to maintain the flame for the length of time that they did.

Just for the day, she was bending the rules.

“Wine and science,” Jane said, the lower half of her spine undulating side to side as if her core muscles had forgotten how to work. “Wine and science,” she repeated, “is a marvelous combination.”

“I think there’s more wine than science. And not enough whine.”

“I hate that I can hear the spelling change,” Jane muttered.

“You know me so well.”

“Too well.”

“Wounded,” Darcy said. “I am hurt.”

“You are drunk,” Jane said, reaching over and gently pushing on her shoulder.

She obligingly swayed, tipping so far she almost unseated herself on the stool. “I’m the drunk half of this drunk!science experiment,” she said sagely. “Now go bring some more science into the party so I can bring more wine.”

“I...don’t think that’s how it works.”

“We gotta keep it equal! Even! Ish!”

Jane pondered that for a moment, then nodded and shrugged. “I had... I had a thing I was going to do, with that - that-”

“The other thing?”

“Yeah.”

Darcy pulled a face. “Now I’m sad, because I think I know which things you mean. We spend... a lot of time together. Maybe too much.”

Jane shot her a mournful look, “If we weren’t platonic besties-”

“We’d be the bestest girlfriends,” Darcy finished, holding out her fist for a bump.

Jane bumped back solemnly. “In another life.”

“One without Thor.”

“Or Ian,” she added.

“Ugh,” Darcy said, grimacing. “Don’t remind me.”

“Sorry, sorry... I’ll just,” she gestured vaguely towards the Bridge machine. “I’ll just bring the science level up enough that we can open another bottle of wine.”

“I’ll need wine and whine if we’re talking about Ian.”

Jane poked at the machine, “I had an inkling the other day, but it was a weird one. I think my inkling was on the right track.”

“Did you write it down?”

“I didn’t want to waste the ink if I was wrong.”

“Cute,” Darcy said. “Maybe I should introduce you to Sam, he likes puns.”

“No men, not for at least... three months. Mourning period.”

“Fair. So...the inkling. Need paper?”

“Nah, no paper. Just a few adjustments, like-” Jane wrenched at the machine, turning it a quarter to the left and then hitting a few buttons out of Darcy’s line of sight. “There, that might do it.”

“Might?”

She shrugged. “The inkling was vague and now wine. ‘Might’ is as good as it’s going to get tonight.”

“You want I should press the red button?”

Jane pursed her lips. “Uh...maybe we should wait until tomorrow?”

Darcy gave her an exaggeratedly patient look. “Jane. Janey. What is tonight?”

“Drunk!science night.”

“This night comes but once a relationship!”

“True, okay. Push the button.”

Darcy swayed over, one hand clutching her wine glass, and slung her other arm over Jane’s shoulder. She leaned in, pulling Jane along with her, until her hand could flatten over the big red button. She locked eyes with the older woman and waggled her eyebrows until Jane started giggling, then and only then did she push the button.

It was difficult to say who was more surprised when it worked: Darcy or Jane. But one moment they were cheerfully tipsy-slash-drunk in the lab and the next moment they were stumbling forward into a forest.

“This isn’t where I parked the bar,” Darcy said.

“Oh my god,” Jane breathed. “It worked!”

“Your inkling worked.”

“It worked!”

“Jane...”

“I can’t believe-”

“Jane!”

“What?”

“You didn’t write down the inkling.”

“Well, no.”

“So nobody knows where we are and, unless they’re like, as smart and specialized as you, odds are they won’t figure out how we got here.”

“...oops?”

Darcy squeezed her eyes tightly shut for a moment. “I’m too tipsy for this,” she muttered. “Okay, so, here’s what we do. We walk until we find people-”

“People?”

“Sentient beings, preferably ones we can communicate with, and then we ask them for help. Your machine can only move people through space, right? Not time and dimensions?”

“Theoretically, yes.”

“Well, ok then.”

“But if I’m wrong?”

“Panic, pain, the whole nine yards. But first! Optimism!”

“Fueled by wine.”

“That’s the best kind of optimism!”

Wine-fuelled optimism only got them about fifty feet further into the trees. The forest was dark, slightly dank, and quiet enough to impress upon the women the need for both speed and silence. The light, shaded by the overhanging branches and leaves, was dim enough to be confused with dusk. The weather was just warm enough that they were comfortable, but both wondered how that might change once true night fell.

“It’s too quiet,” Darcy muttered.

“Don’t say that, you’ll freak me out.”

“Join me in my freak-out. The water’s fine.”

“Ha ha,” Jane muttered, carefully clambering over a massive downed tree.

There was no clear pathway, but the trees were too large to grow too close together and they provided enough shade that the space between them largely empty of sun-craving foliage. There were mushrooms and shrubs, unrecognizable to either woman, but those were easy to navigate. It was, after all, very simple to travel through a forest when you have no clear destination.

Being neither accustomed to camping nor even remotely acquainted with woodcraft, both of them were utterly surprised to find themselves suddenly surrounded by people with bows and arrows and skin that glowed faintly in the dim forest’s light.

“Definitely not in Kansas anymore,” Darcy muttered.

One of the people stepped forward, lowering his bow. He said something in a smooth language that seemed entirely comprised of L’s and R’s. At their obvious incomprehension, he switched to something with more glottal stops. Seeing their continued confusion, he scowled, stepping even closer, and studied them intently.

Darcy watched as his eyes skimmed over her and then stuttered to an obvious halt on Jane. She barely kept herself from rolling her eyes. Jane, for some reason unfathomable but utterly amusing, seemed to attract a certain type. That type was blonds, usually affluent blonds, but it was true regardless of placement on the gender spectrum. Darcy did not understand it, but after several years of friendship, including many nights at varying bars and/or restaurants, she felt quite comfortable making the broad, sweeping generalization that her friend was blond-nip.

He said something soft and quietly awed, then slowly slid his bow into a sheath on his back. He reached out a hand to Jane and-

Jane reached back.

Darcy watched with wide eyes as her friend accepted the hand and allowed herself to be drawn closer to the stranger. “Uh...what’s going on?”

“I...have no idea,” Jane said, never taking her eyes off of their new friend. “But I’m strangely okay with it. Can’t tell if that’s the wine talking or leftover thrill of success from the science.”

“Maybe both.”

“Probably both,” she agreed. “But he’s...”

“Holy shit, he’s an elf!” Darcy squeaked as the stranger tilted his head to listen to them, long blond hair sweeping to one side to reveal a very pointy ear.

“He’s perfect,” Jane breathed. There were stars in her eyes as she looked at him, and considering the woman’s hobbies, degrees, and life-long obsession, that was saying something.

It was, honestly, kind of adorable. The strange man and Jane were just... standing there. Gazing into one another’s eyes. After a minute or so, another one of the strangers (elves!) sheathed their bow and glided over to the trio. This one was a redhead and looked female, assuming that the elves subscribed to anything approaching human gender ideas. The ginger elf said something to the blond in that first liquid-silver language, it sounded soft and curious.

The blond responded, sounding just as breathless as Jane.

Ginger elf made a face like she was having too many emotions to convey. She turned smartly towards Darcy and made a broad gesture, obviously beckoning her closer.

“Hi, I have no idea what you’re saying but I’m totally not a threat,” Darcy said as she obeyed the unspoken command.

Ginger elf tilted her head to one side, looking amused. She turned to the rest of the elves and said something hard and quick, head tilting to the left of where Darcy and Jane had been walking. The others melted back into the foliage, though Darcy assumed that they were still there, and the elf turned back to her with a raised eyebrow as if to say, ‘Well? You coming?’

“Well,” Darcy muttered, gamely following the elves and Jane, “we found sentient beings, now we just gotta work on the communication bits.”

It felt like hours later that they reached something approaching civilization. In this case, ‘civilization’ came in the form of a fortress whose walls were made of living trees. Darcy gave them props for sustainability and their obvious support of the environment, but she was feeling tired, grumpy, and slightly queasy at that point. Wine and exercise were not a good combination.

Much like wine and science.

Darcy, who at this point wanted nothing more than to curl into a ball and sleep off what was sure to be an awful hangover, was a being made of regret.

Then she glanced over at the blond, who had introduced himself as ‘Legolas’ in the most adorable ‘Me Tarzan, you Jane,’ moment to ever make Darcy wish she had a functional camera, and her regret subsided. Legolas and Jane kept sneaking glances at each other, and every time they locked eyes it was as if the world melted away. And then either Tauriel, the redheaded elf, or Darcy would have to poke and prod them to get them moving again.

Darcy and Tauriel were well on their way to becoming friends in spite of the language barrier. There was an entire code of raised eyebrows and exasperated half-smiles shared between them as they helped shepherd their friends onwards.

The tree-fortress had a very large tree-door that Darcy decided not to think about too hard because the door appeared to be made of living wood and that was some next-level horticulture right there. Beyond the gates was a city, but a tree city. It was everything Darcy had imagined as a child when people described ‘tree houses’ to her, like Swiss Family Robinson meets fairytale, and she was instantly enchanted and enraptured.

The rest of the elves from the original encounter had melted back out of the woodwork and formed up at their backs as an escort. Darcy had a moment to feel wary before they were ushered into a very large tree-house-thing and into something that was obviously a receiving room. The tip-off was the very large and intimidating chair at one end of the room.

There was another elf-man sitting in the throne (because what else could it be?), long-limbed and graceful even stationary. He also had blond hair, and Darcy had a moment of worry as to whether or not there would be a blond-off for the favor of fair Jane. Clearly the wine had yet to leave her system.

The new, somehow even blonder elf was staring at Legolas and Jane with a faint frown, then his eyes swept over to her and - oh.

Huh.

Well. Shit.

His eyes were silvery, or maybe blue, it was difficult to tell with the distance between them but - oh. He had risen and was rapidly closing that distance. He stopped in front of her and reached out and, just like Jane, she reached back immediately. His hand in hers felt like that swooping feeling when a roller coaster first starts its descent down a big hill, like fireworks and killer harmonies and she was soothed and exhilarated all at once.

“What the fuck, Jane,” Darcy breathed.

“With you, 100%,” she replied.

Legolas and her elf - shit, that was too possessive, that wasn’t, but it was? Too confusing - started speaking in the flowing language. After a moment, her elf nodded sharply, then lifted his free hand to press his palm to his chest.

“Thranduil,” he said.

“Darcy,” she replied, smiling helplessly.

She was feeling sightly better about the wine/science combo.

#amuse writes stuff #darcy lewis #jane foster #darcy & jane #darcy x thranduil #jane x legolas #cheating and relying on that fandom thing where elves have recognizable inklings towards their soulmates #elves and dwarves have soulmates #hobbits and humans have to figure it out themselves #lotr crossover #playing fast and loose with canon #story runs roughly concurrent with thor: ragnarok and slightly pre-hobbit #jane is blond-nip #this is a consistent headcanon of mine for jane #i also think lucius malfoy and possibly jadis would be into her #idk where this could go #no really

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