#the response to this is truly knocking my socks off

[hotvintagepoll]

This entire event (including all the yelling and propaganda) is giving me the will to live. (I wasn't in a bad place or anything, but this is like confetti and frosting and glow in the dark stickers.)

Thank you!! :D

[cosyvelvetorchid]

After watching a romcom with Tommy (who mentions offhand that nobody has ever romanced him like that), Buck activates his inner romantic (ie Season1Boyfriend!Buck) with one mission in mind: to completely and utterly sweep Tommy off his feet.

Tommy is this cool, confident and unflappable guy 24/7, and Buck has this need to see him blush.

Flowers, a candlelit meal, slowdancing in the moonlight. The whole shebang, and Tommy melts.

Im so sorry that this took an absolute age to get to! Lots of stuff going on and illness blah blah blah ANYWAY! Here it is, I hope you like it.

As Always if you have a bucktommy or saltommy prompt send to my ask box. Smut, fluff, whump.. whatever you want

🩶

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RATING: T

TW: 1 use of the f-slur

WORDS: 2,432

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Buck knew that Tommy loved a romcom. He liked lots of genres of movies, and all for different reasons. But romcoms he loved because of the fantasy of them. He’d told Buck once that growing up with a father like his, and then spending the majority of his adult years firmly tucked away in the closet, that he’d wholeheartedly believed that a true love or romance was not in his own future. That living vicariously through two people on screen, even if they were straight, was the closest thing he’d get to a happy ending.

He’d very much changed his mind since he’d met his Evan, but still Buck had been determined to give him all the romantic moments he’d missed out on over his life.

It started with surprising Tommy with a candle lit dinner ready when he came home from work.. Which ended with Buck being bent over the table as dessert. Not quite the emotional response he was going for, but hey who was he to say no to that!

Tommy mentioned once a book he loved as kid and Buck spent three weeks hunting down a first edition. He was certainly blown away by Bucks thoughtfulness and showed him immediately by getting on his knees. Again Buck was happy to oblige - he always was - but it still wasn’t the response he was truly hoping for.

He wanted to sweep Tommy entirely off his feet. Woo him to the point of breathlessness. Make him feel so unbelievably cherished and loved that he forgets out to speak.

And then the idea hit him.

Oddly, while watching Carrie.

“Man, the worst thing that happened at our senior prom was Mikey Jacobs spiking the punch. I still can’t drink Jack Daniels” Buck reminisced.

“Better than pigs blood, babe. Or, you know, the revenge by telekinesis.”

“True. What about you? What was yours like?”

Tommy sighed. “I, uh, didn’t go to mine.”

“Really?” Buck looked at him in surprise. “I mean granted you were secretly gay, but I know the girls would have been killing each other to get the Tommy Kinard to take them to prom.” The idea seemed to bring such joy to his Evans face that Tommy almost didn’t want to admit the reality.

“I appreciate the support, babe, but I wasn’t exactly drowning in dates with girls.” He laughed “I was 6’2” by the time I was 15 but I didn’t know how to build muscle or even eat right for my body’s needs. I went from 5’8” and over weight to 6’2” and skinny, which my dad just loved to point out constantly. I was super insecure and had zero confidence to ask a a girl out.” A look of sadness flickered across his face.

“Did people not go stag at your school?”

Tommy huffed a cold laugh. “Only fags and virgins go stag to a prom, Thomas.” He mimicked his father’s voice. Buck gently rubbed Tommys arm.

“I’m sorry you had to hear shit like that from your dad. You deserved so much better than that.”

“I know that now and mostly because of you.” He pressed a chaste kiss to Bucks lips and smiled.

“Good.” He smiled back, already formulating his next plan to woo the shit out of his boyfriend.

This one took a few weeks of planning but Buck was certain it would knock Tommys socks off.

Tommy was surprised that Lucy had suddenly turned up at Harbour on what was supposed to be her day off. Even more surprised when she offered, nay - insisted - that she take Tommys remaining 24 hours of his 48 hours shift.

In the end their Captain had to practically shove him out of the harbour doors to get him out. He eventually relented and left for home.

Approaching their front door he noticed a note in handwriting so bad it had to be Bucks. God did he love him but the man’s penmanship looked like a doctor’s. A drunk doctor’s. Wearing a plaster cast. Thankfully after almost a year together he’d learned how to decipher Evans scribbles.

“Go straight upstairs.

Shower and get dressed..”

“Huh?”

“Don’t “huh” me, Kinard. Just do it. Then meet me in the dining room.

P.s: love you, Your Evan.”

Tommy chuckled to himself but did as he was asked and walked straight up the stairs to their bedroom. He was surprised, and confused, to see his tux freshly pressed and laid out on their bed.

After showering and dressing he made his way back down found himself knocking on his own dining room door for permission to enter.

“Come in.” Evans voice called from inside.

Tommy opened the door his mouth and eyes opened wide at what he saw.

The table had been pushed to the side wall, with a black cloth draped over the top, atop of which was a punch bowl filled with an orangey pink liquid. Surrounding it was lots of bowls filled with candy and chips and other kids favourite snacks.

A shiny disco ball hung from the ceiling with paper decorations swinging from the Center of the room and up to the corners. Twinkling lights hung all around giving the room a gorgeous warm glow.

And standing in the centre of the dining room, under the disco ball, in a tux that fit him so fucking perfectly was the most beautiful man Tommy had ever seen.

“What’s.. what’s going on?” Tommy asked not being able to hide his smile.

Evan took a few steps toward him and held out his hand. “Thomas Kinard. Will you go to prom with me?” Every time Tommy thinks he can’t fall in love with Evan any more, he’s proven wrong.

For the next two hours they do nothing but dance like idiots, drink spiked punch (tequila instead of Jack Daniel’s this time - buck would actually like to remember this prom), and snack on junk food.

Tommy couldn’t remember the last time he had let loose like this. Or even smiled this hard. Evan was by far the greatest joy to ever come into his life. He reminded Tommy of what fun was, what joy was and what it felt like to be truly unashamedly himself - something that nobody had ever made him felt safe enough to truly be.

Buck knew he’d achieved his task of sweeping Tommy off his feet tonight already, but there was one more thing he decided, last minute, that he was going to do.

Buck picked up his phone and searched for the perfect song, settling on Songbird by Eva Cassidy because it was on the soundtrack to Tommy’s favourite movie Love, Actually. He didn’t even need to do anything because as soon as the opening bars played through the speaker Tommy instantly knew what it was and pulled Buck into a slow dance.

They swayed slowly and silently for a few moments just breathing in the perfect moment with each other with Tommys arms wrapped around Bucks waist and Bucks arms around his neck.

“So, not that I’m complaining, babe, what with all the romancing lately?” Tommy asked.

“You deserve it.” Was Bucks simply reply. Tommy looked at him with a mixture of adoration with a hint of confusion. “You go out of your way to show me how much you love me and to do all these sweet and romantic things for me, but you deserve them too. You deserve to be shown how much you mean to me also.” Tommy was looking at him with those eyes again - the big bright ones Buck first saw right before Tommy had kissed him for the first time - and he had to use every bit of strength to hold back from jumping him, because he needed to say this before his courage disappeared.

“I see how you look at these little moments in the romcoms you love and I hate that you never got to experience them, so I wanted you to have some of them of your own. Our own.

“Plus, I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to tell you just how much I love you. To tell you how unbelievably happy that you walked, well, flew into my life. To tell you that I have never in all of my life thought that I deserved to have someone so beautiful and kind and wonderful and just fucking incredible as you. And.. and to ask you to marry me.”

Tommy blinked. Did he hear that correctly?

“Wh-what?”

“I know, it’s.. we’ve not even been together a full year yet, and full disclosure I didn’t even know I was going to ask until like 10 minutes ago so I don’t have a ring, and-“ Tommy grabbed Buck either side of his neck and pressed his lips firmly against his. When Tommy pulled back his cheeks were wet with tears cascading over his beautiful lower lashes. Finally, Buck thought.

“Hold that thought.” He said simply before quickly leaving the room. He took 2 steps at a time as he hurtled upstairs, before running back down seconds later back to Buck still stood in the center of the dining room.

He lifted up his palm on top of which was a dark blue velvet box, opened, with 2 tarnished silver bands of differing sizes, each with a shiny silver strip running around the centre of each of them.

“You bought.. how long have you..” Buck could barely get the words out. His eyes kept flicking between Tommys beautiful face and the rings in his hand.

“About a month. Well, I ordered them custom made about 2 months ago but I’ve had them for a month.”

“Custom?” Was all Buck could get out.

Tommy pointed to the shiny part of the rings. “A couple of years ago I had this rescue and the husband of the woman we were life flighting was telling us about how they met. Anyway, he said that his family had this tradition of putting something sentimental in the band to give to your partner as.. sort of as a piece of you.

You know that piece of metal that sits on my desk in the study?”

“Y-yeah. It’s part of the blade from the first chopper you flew when you transferred to harbour.”

“Right. Well, it now has a little chunk missing.” He laughed. “Transferring to the 217 was the first piece of me finally becoming who I always wanted to be. You’re the last piece, Evan.”

Buck had this whole night planned - minus is own spontaneous proposal - and had wanted Tommy to be the feeling pleasantly surprised and loved.. yet here he was himself being loved so fucking beautifully it was taking everything within him to not break apart right there.

“What’s-what’s in your ring?” He asked.

“Well, that was.. a little trickier. And full disclosure on my part - Maddie knows because I had to enlist her help.”

“Okay..”

“It’s kinda difficult to pick something when your boyfriend loves so many things,” he teased “and then Maddie.. she gave me a little silver bracelet that she was given as a kid and-“

Buck inhaled a breath when he realised what bracelet Tommy was referring to. Immediately his whole chin began to quiver and tears fell from his eyes.

“The one that Daniel gave to her.”

“Yeah.” Tommy said softly. “She told me how he’d seen it one day when he was with your grandparents when he was 6 or something and insisted he give to her for her birthday.” Buck nodded, not being able to find words. “She said that this would be something that would be special to you because you never got to know him. Is-is that okay?”

Buck looked from the ring back to up Tommy; eyes completely blurred from tears pouring out of him.

“I.. this..” He could always find peace in Tommy eyes but this was all so.. it was overwhelming and.. he took a deep breath to try and calm himself.

“Tommy, this whole night was-was supposed to be about you.. a-and showing you just how much to mean to me and then..” he blew out another breath trying to center himself “and then here you are with the most beautiful fucking gesture, I.. I can’t..” The tears flowed once again and this time he threw his arms around Tommys neck and held on tight. Tommy, as he always did, reciprocated and held him tightly back.

“I love you so fucking much.” He cried into Tommys neck. Tommys own tears were flowing too, now.

“God I love you, too, Evan. More than I could ever even show you.”

“I don’t know-“ Buck pulled back with a laugh “I think you hit it out of the ball park with this one.” He gently thumbed Tommys tears from his cheeks. He looked closer at the rings.

“Are there inscriptions?”

“Only on yours.” Tommy replied, sniffing.

“For my Evan. Always.” Buck read out loud. Tommy wiped away Bucks next tears that came. They were the only type of tears he ever wanted to illicit from his Evan.

“I thought you would what to decide what to inscribe on my ring. Can I put it on you now?” Tommy asked.

“Uh, technically I should be putting on you because I asked first. Actually, you haven’t actually said yes by the way..”

Tommy reached up an gently placed back an errant curl that had fallen onto Bucks forehead and looked at him with those big earnest eyes again.

“Yes.”

Buck took the ring out of the box and slid it onto Tommy finger, then Tommy did the same with Bucks ring.

Buck gripped the lapels of Tommys tux and pulled him into a kiss. They both sighed into it. It wasn’t a kiss that they’d shared before; this one was full of promise, of hope, a future - the rest of their lives as husbands.

Tommy pulled back for a second “By the way, I did promise Maddie that the second we became engaged that we would face time her. Where’s your phone?”

“She can wait a little bit.” Buck replied aiming his lips at Tommys neck.

“You sure? She might be mad.” Buck lifted up and looked Tommy in the eyes.

“Tommy, there’s only one thing I want to do right now and it absolutely does not involve my sister.”

“She can wait a little bit.” Tommy repeated wrapping his arms around his Evans neck and pulling him in for another deep kiss.

[perfectlyoongi]

ROOMMATE!JIMIN who every night, after dinner, watched an episode of a turkish soap opera with you. even when Jimin was busy, he always made sure to spend an hour with you after dinner. sometimes even without dinner, Jimin would sit with you on your sofa and attentively watch this turkish soap opera that you found by mere chance. it was a small tradition of yours that gave rise to several conversations of conspiracies and hunches that could last endless nights. for an hour every night, Jimin was by your side. even when the episode got repetitive or your internet didn’t allow for a trouble-free night, Jimin didn’t care — in a way, it was that time every night that really made Jimin grateful for being born in a time where you were with him. . “i managed to get home in time for the soap opera. what? did you think i wouldn’t come today? you can’t get rid of me that easily.”

ROOMMATE!JIMIN who makes housework a competition. taking care of the house was always a task that brought a lot of trouble; so, in an attempt to ward off laziness, Jimin suggested making this obligation something fun. each task had its points and, at the end of the week, the points were all added up to determine a winner — whoever lost always had to take care of doing the laundry. as silly as this idea was, the truth is that it worked. every week, you and Jimin would dive into some domestic chore, adding points to your score and always teasing the other when one of you had the advantage. it was something childish, you knew, but it was something fun and something that made you grateful to have someone as creative, as fun, as hardworking as Jimin as your roommate. “today i made dinner. that’s more.....five points. i’m already at fifteen. if you don’t hurry you’ll have to wash my smelly socks. work with that in mind.”

ROOMMATE!JIMIN who always eats what you cooked, even if it turned out badly. as a friendship began to grow between the two of you, you and Jimin agreed that you would take turns cooking. whether you were a good cook or were still learning the ropes of cooking, Jimin was always ready to try your food. sometimes a little burnt, often salty and sometimes a little bland, your food was eaten by Jimin without any complaints. always praising your hands that created that food, always looking for something positive to point out when the food was less good, Jimin was always the first to eat and the last to leave the table. he wanted to make sure you knew that this effort of yours was appreciated — whether it was good or bad. “it smells good in here. are you making soup? oh, a new recipe? i can’t wait to taste some of your creation.”

ROOMMATE!JIMIN who always tried to find board games for two people. although each of you lived in your respective room, the truth was that there were always shared moments in the living room or kitchen, moments that were filled with laughter and joy. and, in an attempt to extend that good mood, Jimin always stopped at the game store, looking among so much variety for a board game that could make your nights even more fun. puzzles, quiz games or something more classic like jenga, the truth is that there were several days when Jimin came home with a new game wanting to be played by you. “i went to the store and saw this game on sale. it’s an escape room but a board game version. what do you say? are you ready to realize how stupid we truly are?”

ROOMMATE!JIMIN who always asks your opinion about his outfit before leaving the house. whether it was to work, go out or just buy bread, Jimin couldn’t leave the house without having his outfit approved by you. always invading your room without deigning to knock, Jimin would always stay at the foot of your bed, turning around once or twice to show you all his clothes and then he would remain static, staring at you. with his thumbs raised on both hands and his eyes shining with anticipation, Jimin said nothing, just stood there, looking at you, waiting for a reaction and response from you. and it was with a smile on your lips and a fake irritated tone that you always gave your honest opinion. “you see, i have an important meeting today. what do you say? too formal? needs more color? you want to pick out other pants? come to my room and try to find some more decent socks. come.”

ROOMMATE!JIMIN who always asks you if you want to go with him whenever he leaves the house. Jimin enjoyed your company. inside the house, you were like a best friend to Jimin and all the good cheer you brought with you was intoxicating, always making Jimin want more from you. as such, when he left the house to buy a quick dinner or hang out with his friends, Jimin would always ask if you wanted to go with him, only stopping being annoying when you accepted his invitation. for Jimin, a day was only good in your company, whether it was five minutes to the store, or endless hours in bars and friends’ houses. with you there, Jimin was fine. with you there, Jimin was happy. “i’m going to the grocery store to buy more lettuce. do you want to come with me? it’s cooler outside than in here, come on. you need to get some fresh air. get out of your phone and come with me, come on.”

ROOMMATE!JIMIN who said he liked you when you were writing to the moon. it was common for the two of you to do various activities together — it was how you passed the time without getting sick of each other’s company. so, that night, when you and Jimin were writing on a plate everything you wanted to leave behind, Jimin decided to speak. he blamed the moon for his outburst, but the truth is that those words Jimin said to you had been eating him up inside for a long time. before you went to the park and broke the dishes in a symbolic act, Jimin held the sleeve of your coat when you were going to get the keys and just declared himself. “i think venting to the moon has made me more sentimental, but the truth is i have something to tell you. something i should have told you a long time ago. it’s… you know, i like you in a way that’s more intense than just a simple friendship from home. i don’t know if you understand me, but that’s it. the moon asked me to talk to you today and i couldn’t say no.”

[aurumacadicus]

159 or 139 for the ficlet please!

(Also, do these numbers correspond or a prompt or are we just winging it here, curious minds would like to know how this lottery is working 🧐)

These numbers correspond to a prompt set which I can post a link to after this is done but I wanted the randomness of it. No offense but you guys always go for the same prompts (which don't get me wrong, make sense for the characters/my writing) but I wanted to stretch some writing muscles!!!! So I anonymized the list :3c

--

Steve groaned when he realized he couldn't ignore the constant pinging of his phone anymore. It had well and truly rung through his half-dozing state. He pushed himself up, popping each vertebrae as he attempted to blink the sleep out of his eyes, then yawned, loud, and scrubbed at his eyes.

He took a glance around his room, then squinted in confusion when he saw his lamp had been knocked off the bedside table, there was a... sock? On the ceiling fan? And the ceiling fan was askew, the edges of the blades scraping the paint off on one side and nearly low enough to clip his hair on the other. He stared at it, mouth hanging open in confusion, especially as it finally registered that it was not a sock hanging from the fan, but a ripped pair of tights.

Steve grabbed his phone, still staring at the tights, as he wondered how, exactly, they'd been ripped right down the middle of the crotch and where, exactly, the other half was. He found it as he rolled onto his back to check his phone, one end tied to the foot board of his bed, the other tied around his ankle. He blinked slowly, then thumbed his phone open, peering at the notifications.

[Bucky] If you don't respond, I'm calling the cops

Steve blinked again, then sent a simple 'responding' and scrolled up to see what was going on. He came to the conclusion that he'd disappeared halfway through a party. Bucky and Natasha's engagement party, maybe? They were celebrating something, he remembered. The first messages has been teasing, calling him a curmudgeonly old man, then jokes about him getting lucky, then concern as he'd never replied to any of them. He flipped back to Bucky's messages.

[Me] Yo what happened My lamp's broken? And my ceiling fan? I'm tied to the bed kinda.

He looked around again just for good measure, then did a double-take at his sheets. He snapped a picture and sent it along as well.

[Me] Also, my bed has glitter in it for reasons I do not recall.

Bucky's response came only a few seconds later.

[Bucky] Oh my god the stripper??????????????! I wondered what happened to him!!!!!!

"The stripper?" Steve asked, squinting at the screen in confusion.

The door to his bathroom opened, and a man stepped out, naked as the day he was born. He was beautifully damp. He had a towel wrapped around his hair. Steve understood, suddenly, why half a pair of tights were on the ceiling fan. He immediately wanted to fuck this man so athletically that the other half snapped off his leg and flew onto the ceiling fan too.

"I ordered breakfast," the man said casually, pulling a duffel bag from... somewhere. "It should be here in about fifteen minutes. I'm Tony, by the way," he added, picking a pair of briefs out of the bag.

"You don't have to put those on, Tony," Steve offered, instead of doing the polite thing of offering his name back, or asking if he wanted anything else.

Tony let out a bark of laughter. "Just as charming as last night," he teased, shaking his head.

God, Steve hoped he'd been charming last night. "So... were we introduced last night?" he asked carefully. "And you thought I forgot your name?"

"I was introduced as Bambi last night," Tony said, offering him a smirk. "And you waxed poetic about my big brown eyes until I basically had no choice but to fall into bed with you."

"Bambi," Steve repeated, and then, louder, "Ooooh, Bambi." Suddenly he remembered exactly what had happened last night, up to and including how his room had gotten messed up, and it had started with Tony finally asking, 'Does that make you Faline? Or are you more of a Ronno?' and Steve just picking him up and carrying him toward the door as Tony giggled in his arms.

Well. Food was coming. He'd have time to convince Tony he was more than just a fan of brown eyes. Tony had a cheeky smile. He found those always seemed to get him into trouble in the best way.

[draculagerard]

I saw someone lie on a poll (to make their fave win) so I sent them (mild) anon hate and their reply knocked my socks off so I kept sending more and long story short I'm very overtly flirting with him now and I think at the very least he's cool with it, I can't tell if he's flirting back but maybe? I still haven't come off anon.

Anyway, point is:

anon hate (sexual intent)

I can’t even think of a funny response to this, this is so unreal. I mean good for you man truly

[stayandot8]

Stay With Me

Genre: comfort-fluff, Depression-Chris

Relationship type: established boyfriend/girlfriend

Important Contents: Chris has depression-like symptoms

A/N: What I would do right now in this current climate of Depression Christopher. It is breaking me inside to watch him like this but this drabble healed a little part it. I hope it can do the same for you. I love you Chris. Take your time. ❤️‍

WC: 1.8k

Part Two l masterlist

His passing seemed to hit him hard. He withdrew from just about everything. He didn’t answer my texts for a few days until I finally went over there and barged into his room. I had heard Chris talk about him a couple times, never anything too in-detail but it was evident that there was affection there. The fans on social media were worried, rightly so. They were conflicted on what seemed to be the new comeback and his strikingly different demeanor in every live he was involved in. 

The other members were busy with God knew what. I wasn’t expecting them to know what to do either, they had their own grieving to do anyways. Some of them buried themselves in their work, others made plans to do exciting things. I didn’t resent them for it, not when they had a busy schedule coming up. 

“Chris?” I knocked on his door, the hallway behind me dark, showing that no one was home. I listened for any kind of noise coming from his bedroom. There was none. I checked my phone for any response to my earlier messages. None. I thought he might not be home but Changbin said he was in his room when he let me into the building on his way to the gym. I decided to brace myself and let myself in anyway, slowly opening the door. 

Chris was sitting on his bed, feet out in front of him, staring at the wall. His eyes weren't really focused on seeing anything and he was hugging his pillow. His laptop was open beside him, still dimly lit and his black headphones discarded near it. His hoodie was pulled up onto his head, covering his (what I highly suspected to be) unwashed curls. No empty dishes anywhere, no faint glow from the TV, nothing. I wouldn’t have known he was there unless he was there in front of me. 

“Chris?” I said softly, gently trying to break him of his stupor. “Baby?” I lowered myself onto the bed beside his feet. He lifted his eyes to look at me, mildly surprised. 

“Oh hey. I didn’t hear you come in.” His voice… Hoarse. Like he hadn’t used it in days. The bags under his eyes were the biggest indication that his insomnia had only gotten worse. I couldn’t look at him for too long without hearing my heart break in my chest. His face even looked thinner. So I stood to clear his laptop from harm’s way, placing it back on his desk, so I could sit beside him. He didn’t speak. He barely looked over at me. 

“I’m not going to ask if you’re okay because I know the answer. I’m just going to sit here with you. I seem to remember you telling some fans of yours that no one should go through pain alone. And since you don’t have a Chan to turn to, I’m stepping in. You don’t have to talk. You don’t have to do anything at all.” I nudged his foot with mine. “But if I can convince you to shower, I can promise that I will join if you want. You won’t even have to bathe yourself.” I tentatively checked his features, just to see if he caught my joke. He did, the corners of his mouth twitched and he blinked slowly to process what I had said. After a longer pause, I softly nudged his shoulder with mine. “Whaddya say?” I brought my chin to rest on his shoulder, trying to keep my eyes on his face. “Because I love you. But you smell like Changbin’s gym socks after a workout.” I got a silent chuckle from that one. He nodded lightly, moving off the bed and heading to the bathroom. I stayed in my place, not knowing if he truly wanted me in there or if had simply convinced him to do it. I sighed as he disappeared and closed the door behind him, silently admitting that I wanted to bathe him. I looked around the room for something to clean, noticing the pile of clothes in his basket. I scooted to the edge of the bed, ready to start a load of laundry to get him some clean clothes when the bathroom door opened again. 

Chris popped his head out of the door, sans hoodie, and looked for me with his eyes wide. “I’m not bathing myself.” A ghost of a smile. My Chan was still in there somewhere, buried by his own grief. I chuckled enough for the both of us, dropping the shirt in my hands and closing the bathroom door behind me.

Freshly changed and no longer smelling like lingering sweat, Chris’s head lay on his pillow as he watched the video I had put on the TV. It was some dumb reality show compilation, something so out of his normal stream of consciousness that he wouldn’t really pay attention to what was happening around him. His brows were scrunched with his frown. 

“But why would she pick him to send home when he voted for her in the last round? That makes no sense.” I pushed my legs one at a time through the pants he had lent me for the night. I rolled my eyes at him. Of course he would get invested in a show meant to take his mind from everything, even just for a little bit. 

“I believe it was because she had a bigger target to take out that round. I don’t remember exactly what happened before this but I know that the next episode was her last. They voted her out.”

“What?!” He looked at me incredulously, like I had just spoiled something for him. I had to laugh at the contrast of his emotions over the past half hour. 

“We can watch the full season tomorrow. I promise.” He nodded, my answer satisfactory. He turned off the television and placed the remote on his bedside table. He turned to face me, laying beside him so we were indeed face to face. His eyes were drooping, looking like it was taking all of his strength to keep them open. He kept them on me, bouncing from my eyes to my mouth back up to my nose up to my forehead. He kept this routine until I had to break the silence. 

“What is it, Chris?” His eyes stopped at mine, searching them for something it seemed.

“You look like you want to say something.”

“Get out of my head.” I smiled at him sadly.. He was quiet while I weighed my words, debating whether to say them at all. 

“Go ahead. Say it.” He took a deep breath, showing me he was ready. I scoured the brown orbs looking back at me for that glimmer he always had. It wasn’t there. That’s when it all came tumbling out.

“I feel helpless. As a friend who knows you, I know that you need space to figure out your grief. I want to grant you that because you deserve it. It’s your given right. As someone who loves you, I’m worried. You worry me constantly but this time is different. I know it hasn’t been that long and you still need time but I can’t help but worry for you. I see what you send to fans. I see what they say. They see you wasting away and they’re worried too. And as someone who wants to spend the rest of her life with you, it's my job to make sure you’re doing everything you can to survive while you grieve. You’re not eating, you’re being distant with the kids and they see it too. They just don’t know what to do. Lean on them, Chris. Lean on me. It doesn't make you weak or small. It makes you human.”

That familiar pinch behind my eyes had me closing them, trying to force them back into the tear ducts they were trying to escape from. I was relying on the darkness of the room, the only light coming from the window and the moon poking through. I didn’t want him to see me cry, not now. Not when he had probably been crying his tear ducts dry for the past couple days. I didn’t want him to feel the need to comfort me when I was there to do this for him. That was just who he was. He would focus on other people all day until he gave out. This insanely unselfish being in front of me needed to be convinced that he was worth taking care of. And that job fell to me. 

“Because I need you here.” I said through my tears. The ones that had forced their way out, at least. “I need you here. It’s selfish and insane but I need you here to be everything that I can’t be for myself. I can’t do this life without you. Please don’t make me live this life without you. I will be whatever and whoever you want or need, just don’t leave me here alone. I am using all of my selfishness here. Right now. To ask you to stay here with me. Give me all your pain. Give me every bad thought you have. I want to take it all away from you. Give me everything. I won’t run, I won’t ask you to stop. It’s not too much. Everything will never be too much.” My eyes were burning from staring at him, willing to see the sincerity and imploring him to believe me. 

He simply blinked at me. A slow hand reached from his side to wipe the droplets from my cheeks. At least, the ones he could catch.

“All this to say that I love you. And there is nothing I wouldn’t do, nothing you could say, nothing could stand in the way of me being right here. With you. You have always been there for everyone else. Let us, let me, be here for you.” 

He took a shaky breath.

“I could never leave you behind.” He whispered. 

He took my hands in his and brought them to his lips. Then he tucked them under his chin and closed his eyes. I watched as his breathing slowed and his snores grew from mumbles to loud inhales. His features looked troubled, but at least he was sleeping, his grip tight on our joined hands. I tried to untangle them without stirring him. I was unsuccessful. He stopped his snoring, taking a deep inhale and squirming back into a comfortable position and taking our hands with him. I heard him mumble to himself, so quiet I would’ve missed it had it not been silent in the room. 

“Stay with me.”

Always.

[whinlatter]

author's note | chapter 12: scarecrow🪞

thank you soooo much for reading chapter 12 of beasts. january was long for all of us, but january 1999 was especially long for the worried youngest weasley, stomping around in the highlands snow going through that all too common and deeply humiliating experience: trying to get a text back from a man. embarrassing! pls know the response to this chapter has knocked my socks off and as a thank you i have given you many unsolicited words on mirrors, weird latin names, and thestral erections. to paraphrase movie molly weasley... just what you all wanted, actually! (plus the smallest of sneak peeks at chapter 13)...

✨ spoilers for this chapter below the cut  ✨

writing notes and headcanons:

curse you/bless you chapter 12: my god this chapter took SO long to figure out. not just because of real life ramp up (cheers again for being patient legends with this), but just because i couldn’t for the life of me decide how to structure or pace it, kept writing scenes then scrapping them or deciding to keep them for later then repeating that ad infinitum. it had about five different opening scenes til i figured out how it needed to start. i know a lot of fic writers will have discovered this long before i did, but it’s such hard work when you know what the arc of a chapter should be, what the main plot points that need to happen are, where the emotional beats should come, but need to actually write a lot of building-block scenes to create that sense of pace and mood to build up to the important scenes, as well as also weaving together plot-threads that need to happen at this point in the fic in order to set up the later stages. this is how i learned that writing a service/‘turning point’ chapter (and this is, in many ways, a turning point chapter for a lot of different plots) is really really hard. part of the trouble is that to earn the relief and the dam breaking you have to write so many little scenes to create a sense of build up, and because those scenes are sort of service-scenes it’s so easy for them to be boring to write and, usually, boring to read. some realisations about what needed to happen happened way too late (there were no governors in this chapter as of like january 28th lmao. i was out on a walk and swear i stopped dead on the path when i remembered that the governors exist and i could use em to start to add the state in a more meaningful way, and especially the encroachment of the outside world on the castle.) when i posted i was feeling VERY uncertain about the chapter and just wanted it to be out so i could move on from it so honestly the response to it has been like the biggest loveliest shock ever. thanks forever lads. the gems i've been left in the comment section and the askbox will stay with me for a long time.

mirrors: this chapter is structured around the idea of the mirror (sylvia getting us going with the poem, sorry you ended up kicking off a chapter in a harry potter fanfiction mate). it begins with little ginny unable to look herself in the eye in the leaky cauldron’s talking mirror (that freaks her out - where does the mirror keep its brain?). it ends with ginny holding the two-way mirror, looking her own reflection, then watching it fade into harry’s as the two of them finally speak and connect after starting, for the first time, to be properly honest with each other. partly this is me wanting ginny to have a different way to talk to harry, something more honest that doesn’t let her cultivate or craft false versions of her days in letters but actually speak face-to-face much more honestly, and that is harry showing he gets that writing is a more loaded act for ginny than it might be for others. but what i hoped to convey was the idea that the mirror has other significance. the mirror is such an important image and device in harry potter - the mirror of erised, that shows you who you truly are and what you really want; the chipped mirror in the girls’ bathroom that leads to the chamber of secrets, where malfoy will later break down when called upon to do crimes he can’t bear to (plus hermione carrying one to look around corners with the basilisk); the foe glass mirror that shows you when your enemies are close; the two-way mirror itself, the item with the most tragic irony (a lifeline to sirius harry doesn't use to devastating consequences, the portal to malfoy manor that saves the day and costs dobby his life) etc. “what do you see when you look in the mirror?” - it's a line dumbledore first utters in PoS, and that comes back in DH, when harry is grappling with the idea that dumbledore might have lied to him about the answer (the socks are convincing nobody). it’s such a good mission statement for some of the themes that run through the series at large: who are we, really, what is the contents of our soul, who will we be (it is our choices that define us etc). harry potter as a series is also full of mirrors in its structure (see this on the books as mirror pairs), and narrative mirrors are a really important device in characterisation (most of all harry/TMR, the two orphans, but also sirius and snape, ron and draco etc). like most female characters in the series, ginny’s narrative mirror is a bit underdeveloped, but it does really seem to be bellatrix, the narration drawing them into association on multiple occasions to compare and contrast them as characters. (hermione’s is like - what, pansy? develop female characters jkr i beg). canon romantic pairings don't get to be properly fleshed out mirrors of each other, in part because they're a) all het pairings and b) het pairingswhere the female character is either excessively idealised and/or underwritten. it's fic writers' job to problematise, unpack and challenge basically errrrrr all of that. to that end, then...

hinny & mirrors: … what i wanted to suggest is that part of what makes hinny so compelling is the idea that harry and ginny at times come as close as being mirrors of each other of the canon ships, in ways that hinny writers can play with/tease out/develop as a canon coherent choice. i’ve talked previously about how we might see sirius and ginny as narrative mirrors in some ways. but i think harry and ginny are mirror characters too, to some extent. it's not just that they're extremely similar. the harry and ginny plotline as rendered in the series starts to happen the moment ginny starts being herself in ootp, and the two of them are able to see each other clearly and see themselves in the other person. there’s also a reason HBP and CoS are the mirror image books by design, harry and ginny literally paralleling each other with the prince’s book and the diary etc. even their respective journey to their own death mirrors the other person's. playing with the mirror as the item that brings harry and ginny back together after their conflict is therefore me doing a bit of a wink and a nod to this idea: harry and ginny on this journey to seeing themselves as equals, as two sides of a coin. the mirror as a device inherently invites character to see themselves clearly, and, in the case of a two-way mirror, invites the character to consider who they see themselves in, who is their reflection, who is their opposite number. ginny finding her way to a mirror where she can both see her own face and yet also call on harry's is a big moment for her starting to think about who she is, what she wants, and also start to grapple with how she feels about her own selfhood, her soul, her morality, her past. on harry’s part, him mending the mirrors and starting to use them - the mirrors he vowed he would never use with sirius, and that are so connected to his guilt over sirius’ death - is such an important step. it’s (literally) him picking up the pieces and rebuilding the mirror and his connection to another person he sees as his family, moving past his grief and guilt to try to see and be seen more clearly by the person he loves. we know when harry potter looks into the mirror of erised, he sees his family: here we have harry, having come a long way in having to confront, acknowledge, unpack and apologise for some of what he’s asked of ginny over the years, lifting up the mirror given to him by his dead family member and seeing his new family, the family of his future.

on the break up that wasn't... two months of getting the nicest most polite threats in the inbox if i broke harry and ginny up… lads. i would never! the scarecrow of the chapter title is partly a reference to ginny's fears - the inquiry, the forest - but ultimately about her relationship with harry, which she fears is in jeopardy - a fear that, ultimately, turns out to be baseless. part of my point in the hinny plot for this fic is to write a version of them that sees them growing up, and especially growing up together, not burning things down or being emotionally immature and dramatic, but doing the quiet boring grown-up work of learning to become a team, and learning it together. break-up plotlines can work beautifully (and i will always devour them), but i knew it wasn’t going to be a part of this fic as i imagined it. i wanted these two burn-it-all-down impulsive characters not to go for the nuclear option, which they might do in other relationships in their lives, and instead do something arguably harder: commit to doing thinking and reflecting and owning up to where they’ve both gone wrong along the way, because they care about what they’re building between them. there are all sorts of general writing love stories manifesto issues in this for me (people can grow and change and learn when they’re in healthy relationships, the only catalyst for growth in a relationship doesn’t have to be a breakup, female centric dramatic arcs don’t have to be break-up centred even though lots of brilliant ones are). but there are also some hinny specific points i wanted to make. the main one is that one of the things i like most about harry and ginny as a couple is that in canon their drama is largely external to their relationship. they’re just two people who properly like each other, get each other, bring out the best in each other, want to hang out and build something together, despite all they’ve been through. they're two characters that canonically just want to hang out and talk to each other, in a really nice way but also, i think, quite a healthy way too that would see them in good stead in their conflicts. post war hinny absolutely have issues and blindspots and skewed dynamics to confront. they have things to learn and they are going to fuck up (harry hurry up ya thinkin and write her back you dickhead). but it’s my view that they’re not going to have a big dramatic screaming breakup, they’re going to muddle through and figure it out, because what’s true about hinny is that it’s a ship where its two participants are emotionally mature, kind to each other, and ultimately constructive even when they aren’t always with other characters lol. that's my two cents anyway!

quidditch: this WAS in this chapter originally and then it got shunted to chapter 13. partly because this chapter had far too many plots already but also (i think) it’ll make more sense there for lots of juicy reasons. so that’s why you have that cop out line at the start about quidditch practices being on pause x because the author can’t juggle very many balls at once :)

death eater recruitment, or: why are young people drawn to dark magic? what i wanted in this chapter was to have a political flashpoint that kingsley, the politician, can use as a catalyst for the thing he really wants, which is an inquiry into hogwarts, as a microcosm of the wider wizarding world and the symbol of its future. the inquiry should happen, but, in reality, it would take political will to make it happen. it was important for me to have the catalyst for the inquiry be something that would really galvanise and piss off the DA, namely why does everyone care so much about the kids they hate getting involved in violent blood supremacist politics and not care about the victims of death eater hate. of course, the DA are understandably fuming: they suffered so much for fighting against death eaters, and they want their story of persecution and of resistance to be told. but the elephant in the room, and what's awkward in these little moments of right-wing talking points on the wireless or in the press or parents of death eater children pleading for understanding is that, actually, there is quite an important question at play here, which is, wait why would a fourteen year old kid or whatever want to go out and kill muggles? isn't that fucked up? how much agency do we give them? when is it grooming, when is it someone being actively hoodwinked (including the possibility of the imperius curse), and when is it an active choice of intent that deserves punishment? didn't all of that recruitment of young people for extremist politics happen before the war? aren't there child soldiers on both sides of this conflict, and if so, is that ok? how did that happen? these are uncomfortable questions that defy easy answers. they're questions that will sharpen and take on new life in the form of the inquiry for our protagonist and for the DA and resistance as a whole. i am so so excited to develop it let me tell ya!

the governors thinking ginny is dead: this - bleakly - is canon! in CoS, the governors think ginny has already died, that’s why they ask dumbledore to come back. (“Well, you see, Lucius,” said Dumbledore, smiling serenely, “the other eleven governors contacted me today. It was something like being caught in a hailstorm of owls, to tell the truth. They’d heard that Arthur Weasley’s daughter had been killed and wanted me back here at once...") wouldn't dumbledore correct them when ginny was out of the chamber? a question for future chapters...

what's in a name: wouldn't be hp worldbuilding without trying to come up with some good latin and/or greek names to hint at character traits. this chapter we had to stick in a load of minor new characters (human and otherwise), so to google we went. we have benignus tuft, the governor - benignus giving us benign, so someone who is at best harmless and mild, but at worst ineffective and sort of useless. we have another governor, coelamus (koelemos), minor deity or spirit, god of stupidity and foolishness (of course ginny isn't dead you idiot). for the thestrals, we know hagrid named one of them, his favourite in canon, who is called tenebrus, like tenebrous, in english, meaning shadowy or obscure (from the latin tenebrae, meaning darkness). so the other thestrals got their names on a similar theme: caligo (darkness, fog, mist) anima (in some variations, the soul), and umbra (shadow). umbra's got a little deathly bun in the oven, which is going to need a name, too - much like a certain owl...

thestrals: the worldbuilding around thestral and thestral breeding was maybe the most fun but strangest part of this chapter to write (i googled a lot of stuff about horse pregnancy and birth and saw images i do not wish to see again). i will thank david yates for giving me the idea and then go back to never thanking him ever again. in canon, we know the thestrals live in the forest and that ginny is familiar with their habits as early as ootp, long before she's able to see them ('because in case you hadn’t noticed, you and hermione are both covered in blood,' she said coolly, 'and we know hagrid lures thestrals with raw meat, so that’s probably why these two turned up in the first place…', in ootp) the only thing we know about the hogwarts' thestrals' origins is dean thomas accidentally insulting firenze ("did hagrid breed you, like the thestrals?”). this is hardly concrete knowledge or evidence, so in this chapter i wanted to play with the idea of hagrid quite readily admitting he doesn't really know how thestrals come to breed, part of these magical mysteries of the natural world that are beyond wizarding knowledge. we do know, though, that thestrals have some connection with death, especially to bearing witness and processing it. i think they're one of the most intriguing and poignant images in canon (retconning over their visibility aside, joanne), and i'm excited for the plot that explores these themes and ideas as the different plots start to wind together. (a spoilery clue for ya: hagrid mentions time periods where the thestral herd has previously grown... thank you to @saintsenara, the real unsung hero/brains behind the operation, who puts up with all of my inane questions and thinking at her and always proves enormously and generously helpful, especially in this instance with some crucial date deets). also i took out a joke about thestral erections because it wasn't the vibe and i think we can all agree that is for the best.

songs from the playlist for these chapters:

had to wap out the celtic vibes on at least one song now we're back in the castle ya feel! neko case, herself a ginger goddess, has provided too many great songs for inspo for this fic and one of my favourite's of hers is in this week's batch (the most tender place in my heart is for strangers/i know it's unkind but my own kind is much too dangerous). the hinny songs for this week are star by mitski (that love is like a star, it's gone/we just see it shining/it's traveled very far/i'll keep a leftover light burning/so you can keep looking up/isn't that worth holding on?) and comrade sweetheart by my beloved bonny light horseman/anaïs mitchell (who's going to bind up your wounds? who when the wildflowers bloom? no other lover but you... in the dusk of my days.) it's about the blessing of time, the hinny DH parting gift! hours and days and maybe years baby!

underwater by the national | tuttle's reel by lorkin o'reilly | hold on, hold on by neko case | comrade sweetheart by bonny light horseman | me & my dog by boygenius | coolest fucking bitch in town by haley blais | star by mitski

and a wee sneak peek of chapter 13... (the inevitable line now harry and ginny basically have wizard facetime):

'Gin. For fuck's sake. Stop. Dropping. The mirror. On your own face.'

[farm-witches-fic-recs]

Once again, we're thrilled to bring you more amazing community fic recs. Give these a re/read and be sure to leave the authors some love.

My Heartbeat Shows the Fear - @unfolded73 “I've read this so many times.  It's got some good hurt/comfort and an alternative coming out for Patrick.”

let the sun fade out to a dark sky - thisfp “I read this ages ago and it has stuck with me ever since. As I said in the comment I left on this lovely fic, I love that Patrick is sending such a simple message of love and caring for David in this way and David having all sorts of feelings about it because nobody has ever cared or loved him like this before.”

One Night in Milwaukee - @flowerfan2 “This canon-divergent series starts out with a scene that feels like the end of a movie we haven't seen yet: David & Patrick encounter each other in a dingy airport, in Wisconsin of all places, after a years-long separation that transpired right before the wedding. They (spoilers, sorry) reunite with sparks and flair. What follows is a gorgeous and emotionally rich exploration of the work of two damaged people who love(d) each other, as they learn to trust one again another after years of pain, fear, and resentment. I truly appreciate flowerfan's ability to depict realistic conversations about mental health, well-earned personal growth, and wonderful supporting appearances from Alexis and Stevie. It's quite a feat to address these hard topics while allowing our beloved characters to retain their charm and humor. The following parts of the series are also excellent in terms of character growth and relationship development, but (mostly) less fraught. The whole thing is worth a (re)read!”

I See Your True Colors - Turkey_Virgin ( @tyfinn) “I appreciate the consistent creativity and fun of each of these color stories... It's been a delight to read this rainbow of drabbles all summer!”

By the Seashore - @mammameesh “This is a fantastic beachy AU with a version of David that knocks my socks off - he is so forthright and careful and kind and vulnerable (but with lots of people who love him).  I also love the depiction David and Stevie's friendship-- they have figured out how to live on he seashore in a way that works for them, and the care they have for each other is lovely.” Easy as pie - @vivianblakesunrisebay “Patrick doesn't know how to tell David how much he enjoyed their night at Stevie's, but he thinks maybe he could show him by cooking him dinner. It doesn't go as well as planned. Imperfect, earnest, pouty Patrick is so relatable, and I love seeing David's calm, careful response. This is such a sweet slice of early relationship domesticity. (Also, listen to the podfic by the incomparable @Amanita-Fierce.)”

[gardensandtaverns]

When Players Commit to the Bit

My last post talked a little about player buy-in, and its impact. Again, as far as game design goes, my experience is limited to personal experience playing games and the experience I have as a Game Master for tabletop RPGs, but especially in those varieties of fiction, player buy-in matters. I'm going to address two particular games where this made all the difference.

To start with a group of players that has really knocked my socks off, I'll tell this first story from the players' perspective, as I was one in this rare occurrence. Any D&D5e veteran knows that the system was built for medieval power fantasy; the existence of the spell fireball is enough justification on its own, but should you need a few additional examples from a DM's perspective:

The 1st-level spell heroism completely negates the frightened condition, regardless of its source, and is available to any divine caster at 1st level. At higher levels this is the solution to fear effects from creatures like dragons, who often have DCs that creatures lacking the appropriate save proficiency could never succeed on.

The game itself has a terrible exploration and social interaction system, just look at the memes. There's a reason the homebrew community is so strong when it comes to additional or revamped mechanics.

The game also has a terrible inability to run Battle of Helm's Deep-esque situations because it is precariously balanced in the system of action economy - assuming that players will always be up against enemy groups of similar size and strength to their own.

This problem is further exhausted when specific genres, like horror or survival, come up. That's because, again, the game is balanced in the player's favor by default. Nothing should be scary until it is a definite loss for the party. Not to mention numerous background features and low-level spells immediately negate the concern of finding food, water, or medicine - as well as treating diseases and poisons.

So, dear reader, you may find it interesting when I say that my favorite experience as a player was in a modified version of the Curse of Strahd module. Curse of Strahd is a survival and gothic horror module that was heavily influenced by Bram Stoker's Dracula, for those unfamiliar. As I've already stated, the system of D&D5e is not well-suited to these types of challenges without using tactics that severely cripple players and their abilities. However, in a combination of excellence on the Game Master's part and the buy-in of all of the players, this game has been one hell of an experience.

Not only did every player come to the table with a self-motivated and layered, perhaps even somewhat corrupted, motivation - but those motives and characters have been well-played by the players in response to the appropriate types and levels of pressure applied by the DM, both on the characters in fiction but also on the players at the table. Every session ends in a cliffhanger, which only helps preserve the mindset from week to week of being in the game.

We also are tolerant, as a group, to making less-than-ideal decisions. Our characters may flee, even if nothing mechanically compels them to do so. They may make hasty decisions, or even evil things, and the characters themselves may create and relieve tensions throughout the group. Curse of Strahd has become gothic horror done right in D&D with this group because we as players let ourselves be afraid, be invested in our character's survival, and follow a narrative that is always changing and reacting.

Not quite in contrast, but certainly from another angle, I have had my best experiences and pride in my work as a DM when my players truly invest themselves in the world and connect with it. In my most recent, and possibly last ever, 5e campaign I had built a world that was embroiled in a continental war, specifically over the use of magic. At the outset of the game, I informed my players that this conflict had gone on for quite a long time, with many tenuous peace treaties over the decades, so the nation of origin for these characters would vastly influence how they perceived the world, due to various levels of propaganda, so they would have to choose together what nation they were loyal to, though that loyalty could change over the course of the campaign. The final composition of the party was a cloistered cleric, who would have had little opinion were it not for a raid on their church; a soldier, who deserted after being hunted for breaking laws regarding the use of magic in an attempt to save their ill father; a commoner, who knew little of the outside world but had grown up in a nation where the use of magic was free and unrestricted; and an ex-assassin, who had served in the interests of that same nation of free use of magic until they fell in love with a political target of a rival nation.

Now, they did not find their loyalties to change over the course of the campaign, but the beauty in this story was that none of the characters died (except for the time the wizard decided against the clear indication that this was a death wish to proceed). The players themselves asked for death to be uncommon and meaningful, and I was happy to comply. What this required me to do as a Game Master, however, was to find other means of motivating the party to action, as few of them had a moral or personal obligation to take any side in this war. For this, I used two strategies:

Threats to Security. I used the proximity of their home to contested territories to motivate their actions to protect their sense of security. Not only were some missions mandatory service, assigned by the local legislature, but there were also night raids from across the border that directly threatened the characters, and those they wished to protect. Which brings us to

Exploiting Relationships. I also used the NPCs the party cared about, most famously the two children of their patron, to drive direction and urgency in the narrative. In retrospect I used kids in general a lot to pull at heartstrings, but so does UNICEF and a number of other relief organizations.

To the players' credit, they went all-in and there were not only excellent inter-party relationships, but various party members had differing opinions on the societal needs in the future that were derived from their experiences and the NPCs they were most involved with by the end of the campaign.

I can't say I have a great way to close this one other than saying that sure, this is my experience and ymmv, but player buy-in can make a massive difference in gameplay and the options available to a designer to make a truly immersive and memorable experience.

[estuaryorange]

🍓!

Emmy!! 

There are an abundance of compliments I could shower you with!! I’ve loved your writing since I was a wee teen like eight whole years ago o.O. It’s always full of so much energy and warmth, and everything is so impactfully and cleverly said. I’ve always admired you deeply- I don’t know if you understand how insane it was for me when you offered to be my beta? One of my all time favorite authors just slid into my dms one day and was like hey I like your work so much I want to see your drafts. !?!?!? What a fucking honor, seriously

I’m also blown away by how friendly you are??? Genuinely how do you form so many meaningful relationships??? I saw some of your responses to this ask game and you had something special and enthusiastic to say about so many people, it kind of blew my mind. You’re just consistently lovely. You participate in a way I am in awe of, you’re so kind and open to getting excited with everyone, you have a kind of patience and charisma that takes strength to maintain. You’re a heart and soul of any fandom you’re in! 

I love seeing updates on you and Daphne, and reading your tags on stuff endlessly entertaining. You truly understand how utterly devastating and beautiful Ed is when he cries, which is a very important quality in a person. I JUST saw you posted the first chapter of Where the Daylight Begins, and I am beyond excited to read it!!! AH!! Anything you’ve worked so hard on and poured so much love into is going to knock my socks off.

<3 <3 <3

[oneirataxia-haechan]

10:37 pm [part 2]

Dann hasn't been treating you the best recently and it's time to prank him, but you let your emotions get the better of you. [part 1] Requests open!

Pairing: Dann x reader ft. Mujin and Louis Word Count: 1777 words Genre: Angst with some fluff Prompts chosen: 4: "Are you scared?" 52: "I don't love you anymore." 58: "We need to talk."

You put your phone down next to you on the couch and threw your body into the couch, becoming engulfed by the warm blanket on your lap and comfy cushions. You still had a few tears rolling down your cheeks, much less than before. The thought of having some much needed company, even if it’s not with who you truly want, it’s still so sweet of Mujin to be so considerate. 

You heard a light knock on the door and softly invited the knock to enter. Mujin came in, slipped his shoes off, and set his snacks on the kitchen counter. You hadn’t moved a muscle since he said he’d be heading over. He walked up to your motionless body.

“Come onnnnn!” He said in a whiny voice, grabbing and pulling you up by your arm. You looked at him and began giggling. He was in navy pajamas, a gray hoodie, and pink socks. 

“What are you laughing at, couch potato?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“The pink socks were a nice touch, blossom boy.” All he could do was smile in response. He was just glad to see you feeling a little better. You stood up and Mujin dragged you into the kitchen, excited to show you the snacks he brought.

“You got my favorite chips and drink…” You smiled brightly and a few tears welled up in your eyes once again. He looked over at you to see your reaction and his joyful expression faded fast.

“I really appreciate you coming over, you really didn’t have to. You are one of the best friends I’ve ever had.” Now Mujin was almost the one with tears in his eyes, hearing your nice words he could only give you a big hug. He grabbed some of the snacks and headed back to the couch as you followed behind.

“Let’s put on a movie and make sure we have the plan right.” He said sitting down and turning to face you. As you guys talked you felt more comfortable with the prank and your anger melted away some. Mujin then decided to text Louis so he wasn’t fully left out, it was his idea after all.

You then nervously texted Seungbo for the third time today, hoping this one would get his attention.

You turned your phone on silent and relaxed into the couch once again. You were really enjoying the funny movie Mujin had picked out to watch, causing your situation to float into the back of your mind. Your stomach and cheeks were sore from all the laughing you were doing, it had felt like no time had passed. In reality, 2 hours had gone by and you hadn’t checked or cared to see if Dann had replied or even read your messages. Mujin had stepped away to use the bathroom and you heard the sound of jingling keys at the door. You instantly panicked, then took a deep breath and put on your best poker face. The door swung open and it was Dann, of course. He came inside in a slight panic, looking for you. 

“Babe, where are you?” He called out frantically. Continuing into the living room he saw you relaxing on the couch. He seemed a little out of breath, not sure why he was so panicked now and not when he ignored me all day. Rushing over to you, he tried to reach down for a hug but you pushed him away.

Mujin had finished in the bathroom right as Dann came through the door, so he hung back for a second to let it play out first. The silence after you had pushed Seungbo away was louder than when he entered a few minutes prior. He took a few steps away from you. A hurt and almost betrayed look spread across his face. You looked up at him.

“How was your day today, Seungbo?” He really didn’t like you calling him by his real name. Calling him Dann was one thing but Seungbo? Really? He remained silent staring back at you with nervous eyes.

“Seungbo?” He muttered under his breath, yet you still heard it. You chuckled nonchalantly.

“Well that’s your name right? Are you scared or something?” He looked dumbfound. How was his sweet baby talking to him like this, he was oblivious in this moment. 

“N-n-no. I’m just confused.” Dann stated as he began to pace. Mujin knew he needed to show himself before he was caught. He started to walk down the hallway and entered the living room.

“What’s going on in here?” He asked, accompanied by an awkward laugh. Dann looked up at Mujin, walking towards him. 

“Why are you here Sungho?” Mujin kept calm even though Seungbo was getting angrier by the second. Before Mujin could answer you rushed over to get in between them.

“Sungho is here because he is the only person available to keep me company today. The only person who wanted to see me and spend time with me. My own boyfriend who had apparently planned a nice day together for 2 weeks and just up and forgot about me. Not that it was the first time, or even the first 10 times.” You began to get tears in your sight once again. “Sungho is here because he cared when I was upset about being alone and ignored by the man I thought loved me.” The tears began to fall like rain at this point. “Sungho knew how upset I was and came over to cheer me up after I had cried for hours, instead of the man who doesn’t seem to care or notice.” You took a deep breath and looked Dann directly in the eyes. “That’s why Sungho is here.”

You turned around to walk away and Dann grabbed your wrist, turning you back towards him. Before he could embrace you in his arms you spoke with the shakiest voice. 

“I don’t love you anymore. I think we should break up” 

That had to be the hardest thing you had to say. That was the first thing said to Seungbo that wasn’t true. Yes he had been neglectful recently, not there very much, pretty distant in general, but you still loved him like you had met yesterday. Both Dann and Mujin looked at you in utter shock. Dann had let go of you while in this state, tears welling up in his eyes. Mujin had no idea what to do now, he was just intruding on accident at this point. You turned to look at Mujin. 

“Sungho and I are going to go for a little night stroll while I collect myself. I hope you think about what I said and will be ready to talk when we get back.” Mujin had rushed out the door and you followed shortly after. Seungbo still hadn’t moved from the spot where you had broke his heart. He had no idea you had felt this way and couldn’t understand why you never mentioned this until now. He finally, physically, snapped out of it and sat on the couch. Today was definitely all his fault and he feels like a horrible boyfriend and man. How could he let the love of his life feel this way and not notice you acting different. He so badly wanted to direct his anger at Mujin, but the things you said kept replaying in his mind. Mujin was really the person to take care of you when he was messing up. He should be thanking Sungho.

About 30 minutes had passed and you decided to go back to the house. Mujin decided to leave once you got home safely. He gave you a hug and began. 

“I know this prank turned out to be just a big argument and I’m sorry. I thought it was a good idea to go through with, something fun.” You smiled and looked at him, “Mujin, it’s not your fault. I did take it a little far but I had so many built of emotions and thoughts. But when he tried to somehow blame you for it, I had to lie to him. Even when I was clearly upset he had to find a way out of it by blaming you. Not today.” Mujin chuckled and parted ways with you for the night. Before he got into the car you sweetly said, “Thank you again Sungho, I’ll let you know how thing go in the morning.”

You go to the door and was so hesitant to go back inside. You were so nervous after what you said. Maybe Dann has been waiting to break it off and you just opened the door for him. Maybe he actually didn’t love you anymore. Knocking before you stepped inside you slowly made your way to the living room, he wasn’t there.

“He must have went to the bedroom.” Whispering to yourself, you made your way to the bedroom. As you slowly pushed the door open you could see Seungbo at the foot of the bed, head in hands. 

“Seungbo…” He was surprised to hear your voice. “I didn’t mean what I said and I’m sorry I said it. I do-” Cutting yourself off as he began to get up. You knew Dann would never hurt you, you were just afraid he was going to yell. He did the complete opposite actually. “May I hold your hands?” You agreed with a head nod, having troubles looking him in the eyes right now. 

“I really don’t want to fight.” He continued. “I just wish you would've come to me and told me directly instead of us having a fight. In front of one of the boys as well.” You weren’t really sure what to say.

“I do love you and I don’t want to breakup.” A few tears rolled off his face. You wiped them away with your hand as he leaned into your touch.

“I really need to shape up though, work isn’t always the first or top priority. I love you so much and I haven’t been treating you as such, I’m so sorry.” You wrapped your arms around his waist and placed your head on his chest.

“Babe, are we going to be okay? I was pretty scared.” He asked resting his cheek on the top of your head.

“We always are love.” You reassured him, feeling his chest ease up hearing you call him a pet name again.

“You still owe me a day together though.” You said, giggling tiredly.

“Oh you’ll get plenty of days from now on, trust me.” He said chuckling and leaving a soft kiss on your head.

[blarp-is-tired]

Freeing Fódlan: Prologue

Welcome to redacted, where somehow anything and everything goes wrong! It's usually warm here and a little cloudy. There's no set weather type, anything can happen. There are quite a few trees here as well, all green and pretty. But we aren't going to stay here. No, we're going to Fódlan, more specifically Garreg Mach Monastery.

Fódlan is a large continent, split into three parts. Adrestia, the westmost part of Fódlan, is ruled by the Hresvelg royal family. No one truly knows what happened to the former Emperor, but the next person in line is the Imperial Princess: Edelgard von Hresvelg. Then, to the frigid north, lies The Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, the Bladdyid bloodline is in control here. The young man who will soon seize the throne is Dimitri Alexandre Bladdyid. His father, the King, died a tragic death in the Tragedy of Duscur, his brother, Count Rowe, is acting as the King. Finally, to the southeast is the consistently warm Leicester Alliance, usually just called the Alliance. This country functions like a government. Five families split control here, the most important one is the Riegan family. The current Duke Riegan will retire soon, passing a hefty torch to his grandson: Claude von Riegan.

Remember how I said there were three governing powers in Fódlan? While that is technically correct, there is one particularly important part that I didn't mention. A key component of the lives of Fódlan's citizens, The Church of Seiros. Despite the name "Seiros," she is not the god governing Fódlan, no. Seiros is the daughter of the Goddess, Sothis. It is simply called the Church of Seiros because she founded the religion in her mother's memory. The Goddess had five "children” the Saints. They are Saint Cihol, Saint Cethleann daughter of Cihol, Saint Indech, and Saint Macuil. Truly though, Seiros is the only daughter of the Goddess.

I can't talk about Fódlan without explaining Crests. A Crest is something passed through bloodlines. There are 16 Crests in total: The Crest of Flames, Seiros, Indech, Macuil, Cihol, Cethleann, Bladdyid, Fraldarius, Dominic, Gautier, Daphnel, Charon, Reigan, Glouscter, The Beast, and Ordelia. The ones I listed starting from the Crest of Bladdyid and ending at Charon are all split into noble Faerghus houses. The rest are in Alliance territory. None are in Adrestia as only the Crests of Saints are in noble bloodlines. Onto the main characters.

Let us paint a portrait of the elder brother first. He's quite tall, standing just under 6 feet with deep brown eyes and skin to match. Short black hair and a wide frame of “pure muscle”. He can often be seen sporting an orange hoodie and grey sweatpants and a myriad of coloured trainers. His name is Xiyon. The younger sister is a bit short at 5 feet “that's taller than my mom,” is how she'd respond to that comment. With the same eyes and skin as her brother, she usually has her hair braided or bleached blonde. Typically, she'll be seen wearing her school uniform with a cardigan, thick glasses, and strange socks. Her name is O'Ren (yes, I'm the main character).

Their journey begins on a Sunday afternoon, just the two of them, and their dogs in their worn grey house. They're sitting in the living room, chatting about their two schools. O’Ren goes to the “Academy”, a name the school itself had earned from time immemorial. While Xiyon attended a normal public high school. Let’s see what they’re talking about.

“I'm telling you; his laugh is weird!” “Whatever you say, Sis.” Never mind, I lied, they were gossiping. “ANYWAY. I told him that...” O'Ren’s sentence was cut off by a knock at the door, causing their dogs to start barking. “Artemis, Diva! Be quiet,” Xiyon shouted. “Were you expecting anything, Ren? Are those the lights you ordered?” “No, that came last Friday. I thought you ordered something,” was the girl's confused response to the questions.

The pair ignored the knocking for a little while longer, before the person at the door seemed to get desperate. “Ugh! I’m starting to get sick of that guy,” O’Ren complained loudly. This caused her brother to sigh. “Maybe if we ignore them for a little while longer they’ll go away. But I agree with you, I’m starting to get sick of it as well,” he muttered more to himself than her.

Against their better judgement, they opened the door, finding a large black box with a strange “symbol”. O'Ren recognized it first, The Crest of Flames. This made the short girl gasp. 

“Hey! I recognise that! It’s the Crest of Flames! From Three Houses. The one that Byleth has,” she exclaimed. “So you bought another pendant? This time with the Crest of Flames?”

She raised a brow at this. “No, I didn’t buy any Three Houses merchandise. I don’t even think they sell stuff like this,” she said, confusion lacing her voice. “Maybe Iya got into it and she bought it,” she questioned.

“Hmm.. Possibly,” Xiyon said in agreement. “Sooo,” O’Ren stretched out the word. “We should open it right!? Right,” she said with excitement, clear in her tone. Xiyon shook his head. “Sis, when have you ever seen a mailman so dedicated to their job here? This has ‘suspicious’ written all over it! Use your head for once,” Xiyon chastised gently.

 Like the ingenious person she is, she opened it. “Didja say somethin’ Xai? I was too busy opening the oh-so mysterious package.” She looked down into the large box, finding a piece of parchment on top of a sword and axe. Both weapons looked awfully expensive, made of the finest silver. “O’Ren you idiot! Why would you open a box like that!? What the hell is wrong with you,” Xiyon yelled at his sister. “Wait, shut up for a second. There’s a note in here,” she shushed her fuming brother. “Do you wanna read it, Xai?” “Ugh! Fine,” Xiyon said angrily.

“You have been cordially invited. Wake up, Children of the Goddess,” Xiyon read aloud. “Um… Invited to what, exactly..? And what ‘Children of the Goddess’,” O’Ren questioned nervously. Her eyes darted around. O'Ren was feeling anxious, even more so than usual, and Xiyon could tell. "Calm down, Ren. Everything will be fi-," Xiyon's sentence was cut off when a bright light suddenly started shining. “Your journey is about to begin. May the Goddess protect you throughout your travels,” a feminine voice boomed. Just like that, the teenagers and the box were gone.

Xiyon woke up in the woods during the late afternoon, the axe lying next to him. Disoriented and confused, he started looking for his sister. “Ren? Ren! Where are you,” he called anxiously. He saw a relatively large group of people being led by an older blond man and a younger blue haired one. Picking up the axe and hiding it behind his back, he walked over to them. “Um, excuse me? Have you seen a girl wandering around here,” he asked the blond man. “What are you doing walking around here? Where are you going? Where are your parents,” the blond man asked in a rapid-fire manner. “My sister and I suddenly woke up here, but I couldn't find her. Do you know where the nearest town is?” “My name is Jeralt and this is my son: Byleth. We're headed to Remire Village, we might find her there.” “Thank you, sir. My name is Xiyon,” he said. He tried not to look at the Byleth, he looked so lifeless.

Proceeding to the village, they bumped into some thieves. “Stay back, Xiyon,” Jeralt ordered. Pulling out the axe, Xiyon got ready to fight. “I can help you, just tell me what to do.” Just like that, the group rushed into a short battle. The thieves' morale was low and Jeralt's group was large. Soon enough, the thieves ran away. “Hopefully, your sister didn't run into them,” Jeralt muttered. They went to a small, lightly wooded area near Remire without any incidents after that.

“Ren,” Xiyon exclaimed. “Xiyon! Where have you been!?” O'Ren ran over and hugged her brother, happy to see him, noticing Jeralt and Byleth, she bowed in thanks. “Thank you so much for helping my brother.” “It's no problem, kid,” Jeralt said. Noticing her sword, a puzzled look crossed his face, but he decided not to question it. “Now then… Your brother never said, but do you know where your parents are,” Jeralt asked the small girl. O'Ren was barely listening, though. She was too busy looking at Byleth, he looked familiar, but there was no time for that. “We'll join you,” Xiyon said. Little did he know, that would be the biggest mistake of his life.

This is Freeing Fódlan, a story about my brother and I basically getting isekai’d to FE3H. This is already up on my Quotev account which you can find here. I’ll just be rapid posting the chapters so enjoy!

[ithilwen-lionheart]

Home is where the heart is: Home is where you are - Legolas x Modern Day!Reader

Alternatively:

Ignorance is your new bestfriend

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

[ Part 1. Work Text: ]

It had already been a few months since Prince Legolas of the Woodland Realm appeared right at her doorstep.

It was on one of those quiet nights she spent home in the company of an ongoing marathon of The Lord of The Rings after yet another re-run of The Hobbit that a sudden lightning storm had struck their area and disrupted all nearby electrical connections. The rain poured hard and fast outside, practically pounding on the roof that she nearly missed the timid knocking on her front door. It was only when the rapping grew in both persistence and urgency that it was eventually made known to her.

She remembered lethargically pulling herself up to her feet from where she laid comfortably curled on her gargantuan bean bag, cautiously padding through the carpeted floors of her room down the stairs dressed in worn pajamas that heavily clashed with her mismatched socks- clothes she previously swore she would not be caught dead wearing.

It just so happened then that like some demented punchline, opening her front door had brought her face-to-face with a drenched and achingly familiar elf she spent a good few minutes gawking at. Not too long ago he was just on the other side of her screen, the entirety of him mere pixels and lights and an abused replay button and now he stood before her with a knuckle raised halfway into yet another knock.

She didn't know what was considered a normal response in the face of such abnormality. It wasn't something that happened often enough to be gleaned from everyday conversation nor had it been mainstream or downright bananas enough to make it into any form of media she had come across previously and so she was left with very little choice but to move on to the next phase of the every day flesh bag's tried-and-tested response to shock.

Confusion. Eyes previously wide as saucers narrowed into a squint, mouth gaping animatedly alongside scrunching brows.

The equally confused blond decided to break the silence by coughing uncomfortably into the fist he made out of the hand he previously had poised mid-air.

"So sorry about that, " the girl scratched the back of her head with an embarrassed laugh. A part of her nagged that it was a stupid decision she was making, one that she might regret later on but then the other part of her had been equally persistent as it argued that the consequences for this is a later problem.

She had not once been glad of her track-record for stupid decisions before now, "It's raining hard outside and you're drenched. Come, let's get you dry." she opened the door wider to let him in, her other hand making vague gestures in invitation.

Legolas' elegant brows furrowed at the much unexpected proposition and remained rooted to where he stood on the front porch, "I appreciate your offer, my lady, truly." he began tentatively, genuine gratitude budding in the light of his eyes and the soft smile on his face, "However, is it not unwise to invite a stranger inside your home at such an hour, especially when, " he spared a quick glance at the interior of the house before turning back to meet her eyes, "-you are presumably alone."

The young woman blinked. For someone who is in blatant need of help, he sure does have a way to make someone second guess it, "Okay, but-" she dragged the words as if every sound brought her closer to a final decision on just exactly what to do with the elf on her front porch, "-you did knock on my door in the middle of a storm so I assumed you needed help. Don't you? Need help, I mean." A fair blonde head nodded at this, "I see..." she trailed off and narrowly fails resisting the urge to roll her eyes, if you do need help then maybe it's not the best idea to advise people against it she sighed internally, outwardly however, she clapped her hands once and beamed, "Right! Then maybe we could begin with introductions? I'm (Y/N)! Are you by any chance Orlando Bloom?" She tilted her head to the side, leaning ever so slightly in careful scrutiny of the stranger outside her door, "Or a devoted cosplayer?" if he were then she had to hand it to him, he is good. He had everything down to the tee: the elaborate elvish garbs, the makeup, the intricate points of his elvish ears, the weighted weapons -she had to ask him where he commissioned those, no doubt it costed a fortune but it looked to be worth every penny- even his hair and his eyes looked so damn natural.

"Pardon?" even his mystification seemed so real, so canonical, (Y/N) bites down on a squeal, perhaps he also took acting classes -maybe improv? "I do not know the beings that belonged to the names you spoke of, my lady." there was that dimple between his brows and it made the sides of his eyes wrinkle -adorably so, (Y/N) surmised- there was a pause between them before he seemingly gathered his bearings and placed a hand to his chest before extending it towards the her, "I am Legolas of the Greenwoods, son of Thranduil, sentry to The Fellowship..." He trailed off, disquieted by what (Y/N) assumed was the knowing and almost teasing smirk she had felt lifting the side of her lips. He took in his surroundings once before seemingly just remembering to bow as an after-thought.

"I don't know if you left out the fact that you're a prince on purpose or if it was never in your character to introduce your father as king." (Y/N) raised a curious brow before pulling back to lean against her doorframe, "Perhaps those are points you might want to consider next you introduce yourself. The movies do not make it any easier now does it? All of your introductions were made by someone else." she hums in thought.

Consternation sparked in those light blue irises. All 6ft of lithe sinew strung into unadulterated wariness, his defensive posture had been notably akin to a bow being drawn, "How do you know that my father is king?" there was an edge to his otherwise downy voice that made (Y/N) pause.

"I," (E/C) blinked in dawning albeit baffling realization. It was the bona fide Prince of Mirkwood at her doorstep -or was it Greenwood? As he was before her, she found herself with very little tell to discern the current state of his homeland. Still, it remained that there was no mistaking the genuine astonishment that colored over the usual serenity on his face. There had been an authenticity to him and his body language that not even some loony con-man worth his salt was capable of wearing, never mind the expanding discomfiture swirling in the depths of eyes that practically stabbed her heart into succumbing to empathy.

She had always been easy game, almost to a fault- and so there was no surprise to be found on her and hers when she grabbed the elf prince's hand and pulled him into her home- muddy boots, soaked clothes and all, "In all honesty, a lot of what I have to say might just serve to complicate matters even more for you." she began, lips stretched into a grimace as she locked the door behind her, "If there is anything important you'd have to know though, it's that this," She spread her arms wide at her sides, "-is Earth. Just Earth. Not Middle Earth."

(Y/N) knew she had been an utter arse for dismissing the look of abject horror on the elf's face in favor of further putting him under her telescope and tiptoeing to tug on the points of his ears, "You are far far away from home, dear prince." she uttered absent-mindedly, thoroughly transfixed with the elf's mystical appendages. Real. These are real elf ears.

Legolas had let out a sound of pain and attempted to pull away from her prodding hands, "I must implore that you refrain from touching, my lady. An elf's ear tend to feel much profoundly in comparison to the average man's." He gently grabbed her hands and lowered it with a lingering grimace on his handsome face.

The (H/C)-nette fought back a mad blush as she abruptly took her hands back in embarrassment, "Right! I'm sorry about that. I'll just go and get you some fresh clothes. Maybe run you a bath." She offered also by means of setting a more appropriate course of action for her to take- at the very least until she was once again derailed upon taking notice of the armor that laid above the dampened tunic he wore, and then the sheer number of weaponry he had on his very being.

A pair of knives were sheathed on the leather resting against his back, competing in space along with a quiver of arrows; a sword was strapped around his waist and his bow was held over one shoulder. Anyone who would see that collection of sharp objects on a single person -never mind one dressed so fantastically- would either run for the hills, dial 911 or poke fun at him.

(Y/N) did not like the idea of the last one in the slightest.

Not to mention that his choice of weapons are considered in this day and age from a bygone era. Should anyone nurse the savage penchant for blood, they are likely to use a gun or an explosive. Swift and efficient without requiring the trouble of retrieving anything in the aftermath.

But it wasn't something she would ever tell Legolas, not when he was well enough with his bow and his arrows- especially not when he held the former so lovingly as he does now and in battle.

What she did actually say as ushered the elf to follow her upstairs to her bedroom had been, "Your weapons would obviously have to stay in my room. No need to carry them around here at all times."

For a graceful sentinel who could very easily snap her neck if he wished, Legolas looked openly hesitant to follow her lead. She hadn't been able to place it then if it was because she told him to discard his weapons or because she would be taking him to her room. Although looking into her obsession with the elvish race, (Y/N) surmised that it might have had something to do with their more traditional culture.

It hadn't meant as much to her, but perhaps to him it might as well have been an invitation to her bed. The thought sent blood rushing to her cheeks- she wouldn't mind following through that misinterpretation one bit, however she was almost certain Legolas wouldn't share the same sentiment.

Upon their arrival to her room, it had not once escaped her how the prince marveled at the space. It took her half a mind to guide him inside the bathroom and not humor him with a short spiel for each one of the bits and bobs that littered her sanctuary if only to prevent any more droplets of water from staining the carpet- they were a menace to maintain, never mind to dry and clean when wet.

Leading him further into the adjoining bathroom, she had introduced him to the tub, the shower, the toilet, and what bathing paraphernalia she had at her disposal.

"Would you like a simple shower or a long soak?" She had asked then as she gathered an array of soaps and shampoos, shower gels and bath salts and placed them on a wooden basket on the edge of the tub. Legolas turned to her from where she knelt in front of him, decidedly abandoning his attempt at fiddling with the foreign contraption that stuck out from the walls- faucets.

"I... do not understand." He said in all honesty, bending down slightly to inspect the variety of items inside the basket, his curiosity was piqued by the assortment of bottled colors and scents, "What are these?" He held a cherry-blossom shower gel on one hand and a jasmine body wash on the other.

(Y/N) vividly remembers the felicity that bubbled in her chest as she chuckled and pointed at each of the bottles, "That, my prince, is a shower gel, the other one is body wash." She then proceeded to turn on the faucets. It was no easy task to opt for doting on him over gushing at how cute his ignorance had been, thankfully she managed, "I personally think I should run you a bath after being drenched in the downpour outside." Warm water gushed out of the spout and began filling the tub.

The fascination that bloomed on the elf's face then had made it to her list of favored memories. "This is a faucet." (Y/N) began, at the blond archer's persisting perplexity, she expounded, "It produces the water that you would be needing to fill this baby over here," she ran a hand over the smooth surface of her large tub. Being a bath junkie, she had worked no small amount of minor jobs to afford it and thus the tub very easily became one of her most prized possessions- odd as it might be in comparison to what would usually pass as a treasured belonging for most people around her age.

To share such a gem of hers to a stranger- the affronted face that Legolas made at the mention of 'baby' was enough to flush out any and all undue possessiveness she had before then out of her system. (Y/N) found that if the spoils of her retail therapy was all it took to coax such delightful expressions out of such a darling face, everything that is hers is henceforth his.

Unsurprisingly, Legolas did take the word literally and was a trigger happy finger away from bursting into hysterics at the idea that a baby was in fact buried under or molded into the thing and why. (Y/N) need only think about the noise complaint the prince's unceremonious panicking would send their way and she was quickly interjecting before the elf could even so much as breathe his readying breath, "This is a bath tub. Tubs are usually made of steel, marble or ceramic."

Not babies.

Not once had she dreamed of a day wherein she would be breaking down her facilities in such a way, "-no actual babies were ever harmed in the creation of this thing. No little human flesh, bones or organs anywhere near, beneath, or within it. No reason to fret." She spared the elf a mild levelled look before taking the liberty of arranging his introductory bath combination.

"And what of-" he began and she somehow knew before he could even continue.

"-no elflings, dwarflings, shirelings or orclings too." (Y/N)'s movements halted, a question of immense importance popping in her head as she spun around to face the prince with an urgency that indicated so, "Is that what baby orcs are called? Do orcs even have babies?"

Legolas matched the furrow of her brows, equally as puzzled, "I," he dragged the pronoun and fussed with his leather arm braces in under a second before meeting her gaze once more, a rueful smile on his face, "I may have to disappoint you, my lady, but I myself do not know the answer to your inquiry. If I may be so blunt?" he tipped his head as if awaiting her consent before plowing on.

The girl waved both hands in an agitated gesture for the prince to continue, "I'd prefer more if you spoke freely actually. I would literally beg you to please do."

He was almost bashful when he admitted, "I have not once spared a thought on how orcs...reproduce." then his jaw sets and his hands clench into fists on his sides, "All those that I met are so driven by an insatiable thirst for blood- to kill and to pillage as if those were all they knew. I cannot fathom how-" his blond head shook as he trailed off, the crease on his forehead deepening, mouth turning downwards into a frown-

Disgust.

(Y/N) knew at least the answer to that one. She saw how orcs were made -she only ever wondered about what they were called- to think that Legolas' immediate thought went straight to orc sex,

She was surprised she hadn't choked on the full blown guffaw she had swallowed then. Still, she couldn't have reigned the rascal in her even if she tried, "I couldn't blame you, really. That isn't exactly a thought I'd want to entertain for as long as I would need my appetite." She feigned gagging noises if only to sweeten her ruse.

It wasn't so much as to coax amusement out of the Elven Prince as it had been for her own entertainment but the chuckle that slipped past the elf's lips-

It was a sound she associated with a pond, not as deep as the ocean yet still bearing a weight of its own. Clear enough that she's able to see her feet, kind enough that it would allow her to wade through without the risk of an undertow, she fathomed it would grow to be her favorite sound.

The grin she sported then had almost been as easy as breath. Maybe I should make him laugh more often.

Unbeknownst to her then, Legolas had watched her closely with curiosity and a spark of something else in his blue eyes. For as much as the Elven Prince had found delight in the scent that had drifted about them, to him it could not hold a candle to his host's twinkling face.

"Lavender." He breathed in. It had been a welcome change from the damp earthy smell that permeated his senses since the lesser necromancer The Fellowship encountered had transported him to this foreign world. He had not known for how long he walked until he had come across (Y/N)'s home, what he did know was that through it all it rained- it rained and poured and it never stopped.

The tension in the prince's shoulders eased at the aroma of her favorite concoction and it was something (Y/N) had taken joy in. She had always harbored an adoration for lavender, however, she found that the store-bought variety lacked a certain je ne sais quoi that she desired and hence, came her affinity for creating her own bathroom fragrances.

"I harm a guess that you like it?" She offered timidly, attention fixed on choosing what she had in her arsenal that is most reminiscent of the Elven Prince's Woodland home for his shampoo and soap. Coming across what she had been seeking, she then placed them on the foot of the tub.

Legolas smiled, "Of course, I do. Very much." He knelt down to her level and took one of her hands in his, "Thank you so much for your generosity, my lady. This is more than any traveler could ever dare wish." He lifted her notably smaller appendage to his lips and laid a chaste kiss upon her knuckle.

It was impossible for (Y/N) to damper the blush that had risen to her cheeks then even if she tried, "No problem!" the flustered laughter that slipped past her lips had been anything but pleasant, "Always glad to lend a helping hand!" Her free hand reached backwards to scratch her neck as if a bow to wrap up her graceless display. (E/C) hues darting everywhere else but in front of her.

The answering grin of the elf had only widened at his hostess' flustering, it was an act that he saw as absolutely charming. It had just been too overwhelming that Legolas found himself voicing his thoughts aloud before he could so much as ponder the propriety of it.

"You are quite endearing, my lady." He breathed, a little bit lost- as if just rousing from a trance. He then took in the peculiarly dressed human before him, appreciating every quirk that he had never seen in his own world before: the clashing patterns, the loose clothes, the odd hair-

A ticklish laugh bubbled in (Y/N) chest and eased past her lips, "Thanks. I guess?" her head slightly shaking in mild surprise, "I wouldn't have taken you for one smooth talker, dear prince." Her ensuing chuckles were incredulous, twinkling (E/C) eyes back on ageless light blues.

The sheer amount of mirth on her very being was something Legolas found himself turning up to -as if budding wildflowers to the sun, the girl somehow securing a glen within him for every breathless cadence.

Still, it did not escape his attention that he had been called a rather curious word that was not known to him, "A 'smooth talker', my lady? I am afraid the notion is unfamiliar to me." He gently lowers her hand between them, yet to let go.

(Y/N) found the prince's touch as another addition to her growing list of favorite things and so she had never commented or pulled away.

In fact, then she had wished the moment could've stretched on forever. Alas, the familiar tune of her favorite song played from inside her room and she cursed whoever it was that just felt so inclined to rob her of simple pleasures, "That's..." her eyes fluttered to their joined hands, then his face, the door, and back again, "My phone. If you would please excuse me."

It was only once she was halfway through the door that (Y/N) remembered she should've taken the rest of the Legolas' things with her so he could set himself up for a bath.

Turning on her heel, she had taken a few steps back towards the elf who was then just beginning to unclasp his armor from himself, "I just remembered," she began tentatively, hating how her nerves had derailed her voice, "You wear armor- can I help you with that?" (Y/N)'s confidence on her offer grew as she saw Legolas struggling with the back straps of the sheath of his knives.

"If it would not be too much trouble for you, my lady." He answered truthfully, a tiny self-conscious upwards quirk at the side of thin lips. At her answering hands that overtook the disarming of his knives, he proceeded with unbuckling his quiver instead.

(Y/N) busied herself with getting the troublesome contraption off the tall elf's shoulders. A task that proved to be quite demanding when she barely even reached his shoulders in the first place. Remembering the small stool she kept inside the cabinet underneath her sink, she quickly got on her knees to retrieve it.

She thanked whatever gods that watched over her for the prince's pre-occupation as she returned to stand on the tiny chair to resume her earlier task.

Once they managed to get everything that was either sharp, constricting or both off the prince, all that was left was his green and brown tunic that had practically been one with his skin by that point.

(Y/N) tried her damnedest not to dwell on the thought for far too long as she gathered his hefty belongings in both of her comparatively scraggly arms.

Upon seeing her struggling form, Legolas had thrown her a worried look, "Are you alright, my lady?" He was already midway into helping her when (Y/N) abruptly shook her head and walked backwards with a smile.

"I'm fine! You enjoy your bath in there while I go and find something for you to wear." She declared, leaving no room for arguments as she went on her way and closed the door to the bathroom behind her.

The door barely managed to click shut before she was slumped against the cool wooden surface.

No amount of bingeing the entire Middle Earth movies could have ever prepared her for this, she surmised. Her salvation wouldn't be on the copious amounts of fanarts or fiction she consumed or the hours she spent camping on pinterest or ao3- not when the actual Sindarin prince was just behind her using her bath.

Of course her mind had to conspire against her too by conjuring charged imageries of what transpired beyond her door. It was so sacrilegious that (Y/N) thought the best course of action to take had been to attempt at physically shaking the thoughts off her head. At the intensity of what she had felt then, she was only glad she hadn't joggled her brain into an aneurysm.

After a full three minutes of breathing exercises and molding the shadows that were cast inside her room into magical creatures within her head (she had a chimera, a pegasus, a mermaid, a sphynx and an actual dragon by the time she was finished- all as elaborate as the next), she had enough wits about her to carefully arrange Legolas' belongings on the floor just beside her bed and find him the clothes she promised.

What she came up with was an oversized cream jumper with a huge green tea leaf smack in the middle (a giveaway from a bubble tea shop) and a pair of grey drawstring track pants. (Y/N) silently thanked the gods for making the boyfriend style a trend-

Before blushing once more at the implication that it held. She cursed tumblr imagines for rotting her brain as much as it had done.

Her increasingly aggressive face-rubbing had been startled to a halt by a few sloshes from inside the bathroom. At the very least someone seems to be enjoying our setup, (Y/N) chuckled despite of herself before jerking to a start at the fluffy towel that stared menacingly back at her from where it was draped over the wooden chair right in front of her study desk.

The towel...right. Of fucking course, she groaned against the palm of her hands, feet stomping on the ground and positively a buzzer away from combustion. (Y/N) pondered how in the ever living hells was she supposed to hand the thing over to Legolas now that he-

If her cheeks would do even more heating up, simultaneous combustion would be the least of her worries- facial deformation would make the top of her list.

Pacing back and forth before her bathroom door in thought, she made it into seven cycles when she heard a slight commotion from the other side: some splashes of water and a slew of elvish phrases that sounded so panicky and cross she was almost inclined to think that Legolas -for some unknown reason- had gotten to cussing the heavens.

A fizzing amusement had risen in her throat before a singular phrase immediately put a stopper to it, "-such impudent contraption! Why would you not cease?! Your service is no longer needed. Can you not see the mess you are making of the generous young lady's home?!"

(E/C) eyes widened at this, a mess of my- (Y/N) found herself with her cheek pressed against the door, "Legolas?" She had called out, concern raising her voice by a pitch, "Legolas! Are you alright?!" She pounded on the door a couple of times before realizing that she had left it open thinking that the prince might not be aware of how their door knobs work.

(Y/N) at the very least had to give it to her subconscious for having half a mind to tell that accidentally locking the elf inside the bathroom was more trouble than it is worth even if it did forget about the towel.

Having received no reply from the other side other than more splashes of water, she ultimately decided to barge in.

"Legolas, I'm coming in. Cover yourself up." She notified, already steeling herself as she turned the knob and entered.

What had greeted her then was an overflowing tub; bottles of shampoo, bars of soap, and the rest of the products on her wooden basket floating everywhere the water had touched before flooding the floors, and a heavily flustered elf prince who much unnecessarily stood and at an attempt to cover himself had clutched against him the waterproof curtain that hung inside the frosted glass walls of the shower area just beside the bath, fine strands of platinum in such disarray.

It clung awkwardly all around his face, neck and chest yet it never managed to overwhelm the fact that even in such a disorderly state, the prince was still as attractive as ever- she could almost forget the rip on four of the shower curtain's grommets.

(Y/N) had never felt more relieved to have purchased those opaque teal curtains for her bathroom even if they had caused a ridiculous amount of money- she would have to have that fixed but that's a problem for later after she had made sure none of her facilities had permanently scarred the elf and he was well, dried, and escorted safely out of the bath.

With her head bent down, she had hesitantly made her way towards the tub to turn the faucet off before proceeding to collect the things that littered the floor. Throughout the entire process, she very nearly headbutted the tub twice: first when Legolas backed up to allow her breathing space, the second one being when in doing so he had only ironically shifted the curtain dangerously away from what it was meant to have been shrouding.

"I apologize for blighting your residence..." Came the crestfallen voice of the prince from behind her, "It would not be inapt if you wish for me to leave-"

"Get back into the tub, Legolas," (Y/N) instructed then, a quiet chuckle in her tone, "It's alright." She had hoped her voice was reassuring enough with her back to the prince, "I'll just go get your change of clothes and a towel, I'll be back shortly. Don't touch anything and just get in the tub, okay?" She half turned her head if only to indicate that she needed the elf's reassurance on this.

"Of course." One blond head nodded dutifully. Legolas had been glad that the young lady had her back to him as he could feel the entirety of him warmed by unadulterated embarrassment. Until then he assumed that elves are not so easily overtaken by their emotions- his father, The Elvenking, had been a paramount example of this restraint after all, perhaps with a frigidity that was exclusive to him, yes, even still-

Legolas could not shrug off his growing unease. He normally had considerable command over his system, losing it like this felt as if he had somehow grown a second head- it was odd in a way that he did not particularly find agreeable. Then he remembered that this was not his world and fathomed that it was perhaps being in a completely different place that had sent his inhibition in such disarray.

"That could be the only sound explanation for this," Legolas muttered to himself as he slipped back into the warm water of the 'tub'. He had flinched as more of the water inside the container poured out under his weight, so clear-cut with his discomfiture that (Y/N) had not been able to miss it.

It had felt like second nature for her to reassure him, "Don't worry," her voice was a balmy hush, "I'll just clean it up later." Her attention had been fixed on a few more things on top of what to him was another exotic apparatus.

Noticing that the elf had gone completely silent, (Y/N) turned to see Legolas staring bemusedly at the toilet.

"That's a toilet." she started, a bit unsure if this would warrant an explanation and wishing to the gods that it wouldn't.

Legolas merely parrots her, equally uncertain.

"It's where you store your -uh- daily deposit."

"Daily deposit?"

"The parts of your meal that your guts deemed useless."

"Ah." it was a little sound of acknowledgment but to (Y/N) it had meant the whole world, it was a break from expounding a little too much on topics she would usually not have bothered to talk about, "So that is what you call it."

The imp resurfaces within her once more, "Not really," the snicker she felt splitting her lips had been unbidden.

A single blond brow raises in both answer and askance, "Then what do you call it?"

"Shit."

Thin lips parted in shock and (Y/N) had been genuinely afraid to have honestly offended the elven prince- at the very least until he started shaking his head, a matching smirk on his face, "Of all similarities our worlds could share." he chuckled in incredulity, leaning to rest with his back against the tub.

"Disappointed that it didn't get to be dung?" she sloshed through the flooded floors to elbow him on the arm that was draped over the rim.

Baby blue eyes that had been previously closed peered at her in response, bright with childish amusement, "Disappointed that it has to be so crass a word that not all would be keen on entertaining for as long as they would require their appetite." he had quoted her then, every bit the self-satisfied smart aleck.

(Y/N) was too taken by the thrill of sharing in on the prince's snarky humor that she allowed herself that full blown guffaw she had been smothering for so long, "Aha! You're learning!" she slapped a knee before laying her own back against the outer side of the basin-

-proximity, drenched clothes and the lack thereof be damned, (Y/N) was glad she had been where she was to witness the light catch in Legolas' eyes, the roguish grin, and that arm that tugged on toned sinews as it rose to run nimble fingers through his flaxen strands- his other arm remaining draped a breath away from where she had her head tilted back to face him.

Every bit the sculpted Adonis bathed in artificial light and lavender scented dew. Every bit fair and flushed and so so alive.

"Fancy what you see?" his grin was of a cocky Cheshire cat-

One whose head (Y/N) was all too pleased to dunk face first into the water.

Needless to say, the Elven Prince was able to proceed with taking his bath that night without anymore complications- at the very least after the unruly lady of the house had successfully stumbled out of her slippery bathroom floors laughing maniacally.

-----

[ FIN. End of Chapter 1, Part 1 ]

[star-anise]

I'm up around 3am, thinking about incels and tradwives. (Note: If these are movements you're a fan of, or if you just want to fight with me generally, I will block you if you annoy me, and even if you behave there's a $20 fee if you expect me to actually reply to you in any way.)

This got started because of Khadija Mbowe's and F.D Signifier's videos about Black patriarchy, which has led me to pick up bell hooks' 2004 book The Will to Change: Men, Masculinity, and Love.

The thing that hooks says that really knocked my socks off in a "how dare you notice that" way is that a lot of people, men and women alike, are angry not just because of the male violence they've experienced, but because of the lack of male love they've experienced.

Which like, part of being human means that being seen and cared about is pretty viscerally equated with survival in our brains. We want it, we need it, we suffer when it isn't there. To be seen and genuinely loved by the people in our lives matters, so we are always affected when there's someone important to us who doesn't seem to see us, to love us, to care about our wellbeing, or to be proud of our accomplishments. It matters to be disregarded, rejected, or shamed by someone we want to love us.

But no power in the world can compel another person to give a shit about you—a truth most of us spend our lives frantically suppressing because being unloved is terrifying, so we work at being better, more attractive, smarter, more accomplished, more charming, sexier, or to be brutally honest, more lovable. But when we do experience a lack of love, a lot of us take that anger and decide to opt for second best. If we can't be loved, we can at least be powerful. Power can take a lot of forms, but because the lack of male love often goes hand-in-hand with violence, people who face it generally want, at the very least, to not be hurt anymore.

But there's another element in play. Patriarchal gender roles divide behaviours and skills in a very particular way: Boys and men are expected to use power to dominate, and girls and women are supposed to use emotions to tend and nurture. Anyone who fails to perform those roles gets harshly punished. Terrence Real talks about how this leaves men with very limited knowledge of their own emotional needs or how to communicate them to other people, and Paul Kivel talks about how boys are taught that this is women's work—that if they are masculine enough, they will attract a woman who will make sure that they feel loved and cared about. How a great deal of men's anger towards women is the feeling that women are witholding this essential service, or failing to fully handle men's emotions (which is pretty damn common, since humans aren't telepaths so it's basically impossible to reach inside someone's head and change their emotions for them).

So hooks notes that women are just as likely to uphold patriarchal gender roles as men, and one element of that is women's anger when men are emotionally vulnerable. Men who confess to their partners that they feel lost and ashamed and unworthy of love are doing exactly what women keep saying we want men to do, but the reaction many women have is a kind of incredulous frustration—"You want me to handle all this? Fuck no, I'm busy!"

Part of that reaction is that in patriarchal gender roles, it is a woman's literal job to completely soothe and manage her male partner's emotions—to diligently praise him, make him feel more accomplished, and to reassure him of her ongoing love and admiration in all things. And that is a lot of work that is quite likely not to succeed because it's really hard to talk someone out of a self-hating funk. (There's also an element of just plain sexism. Even without the implied demand for help, some women just think men's vulnerability is pathetic or laughable.)

The feminist response to this that hooks, Real, and Kivel advocate for is to spread the load a little more evenly; to work to reduce the violence with which gender roles are policed, to allow men to be soft and emotional, but in the process, give them the emotional skills to handle the shame and dread we all feel sometimes about not being lovable or or worthy, and empower them to form many different emotionally fulfilling relationships.

So the thing about incels is, they tend to be obsessed with finding a woman who will make them feel worthy, sexy, accomplished, admirable, and dominant, like a "real man". The prospect of getting a woman is the single potential oasis of love and support in an incredibly bleak desert landscape in which a romantic partnership is the only possible source men are permitted to seek love and care from. A man who hasn't gotten a girl is a pathetic loser whose life is meaningless.

What that entire worldview takes for granted is how the desert became a desert in the first place. How boys learn to fear the violence and rejection that comes from stepping out of their gender role by being emotionally vulnerable or by emotionally nurturing somebody else; how emotional knowledge and expression are punished by a system that says men should always seek to dominate. The desire for a female partner rests on a bedrock of learned fear and contempt for the idea that men can or even should have the kind of emotionally close and supportive friendships among themselves that women tend to have with each other.

Incels are the fucking allegory of the long spoons in action. They gather in huge numbers to discuss their pain, frustration, and disappointment about their difficulty attaining a relationship that provides emotional fulfillment, but it's impossible for them to try to seek or offer that kind of relationship with the many many people right there also looking for love, because violating the gender rules means inviting violence and ostracism. Affection and mutual esteem between men is super gay and doesn't count, especially when it's provided because of a mutual vulnerability instead of admiration for achievement. So it's incredibly hard for incels to in any way break out of the mental cage that says the way to be loved is to be as masculine, as stoic and unemotional and successful and admirable and dominant as possible. And because being dominant tends to require people to be better than, incels spend a lot of time criticizing each other for failing to be masculine enough, and therefore not worthy of love.

Meanwhile... tradwives.

If you're into men, the dream of being truly loved by a man who will take care of you and make your life materially better is fucking amazing stuff. That's just... that's just The Dream, okay? The romance industry's extreme popularity decade after decade will tell you what bell hooks also notes: Women who are into men want to be loved by men SO MUCH.

So it really seems to me that the basic appeal of being a tradwife is managing to be submissive enough to get the men they love to genuinely show up and fully commit to loving them. If conflict in relationships happen because men feel threatened in their masculinity or not fully loved by their wives, then gosh darnit, these women will plaster themselves over the cracks to make sure there are absolutely no problems. That will earn them a relationship where they are truly loved and appreciated.

(It's a trap. I hate to say it, but we're not a telepathic species, and you will never manage to be good enough to actually change what someone else feels. No matter how hard you submit, your husband will still feel moments of doubt and fear and inadequacy, because he's human and we're built like that. It's the cross we have to bear as a species. And it does not go well at all if both of you are used, in those moments, for blaming you for whatever you "did" to "make" him feel that way.)

[tteokdoroki]

— “SHARING IS CARING + DABI/TOUYA TODOROKI.” ft. shoto todoroki.

author’s note(s): i havent written in days bc ive been working on other things but here’s this bc i am a whore. btw reader and shoto are third years/18 in this so hold onto your wigs lol.

warning(s): mdni, 18+. smut, dark content, dub-con, manipulation, cheating, choking, breath play, unprotected sex, exhibitionism, voyerism kinda, corruption!kink, virginity loss, degradation. characters aged up to 18. fem!reader.

touya todoroki has always been better than his brothers, at everything. praised from a young age for his powerful abilities, handsome face and charming smile— touya is the todoroki family’s prized gem. the favourite, prodigy son. the one who always gets what he wants. of course, until precious shoto todoroki arrives.

shoto, the undeniably gorgeous boy with dual chrome eyes and hair to match— an aloofness about him that draws everyone in, especially at school where he excels and wears himself at the top of his class in U.A academy. now; he’s everyone’s favourite boy, endeavour’s, his mother’s and yours. you, the sweet and innocent little girl who lives about two blocks away. the whole neighbourhood knows who you are, the apples of your cheeks stretched into a darling smile, that’s sometimes etched with an air of shyness when someone compliments you on how pretty you are.

you have doe eyes that watch shoto with such awe because you’re so impressed by what he can do, because you love how kindly he treats you and how he protects you from hungry stares belonging to others. touya finds your innocence annoying; the first time his younger brother brings you for dinner. the way you stutter over your words when speaking with rei or enji and how hide behind shoto whenever the eldest enters the room.

but you’re nice to look at, he can see why his pest of a younger sibling keeps you around. does shoto realise how far your skirt rides up over your ass whenever you bend over? how your thighs resembling pillows spill over the tops of your school socks? and how your lips are always so bitten and cherry red— everything about you is so fuckable.

and like i said, touya todoroki always gets what he wants.

“i’m better than him, aren’t i sweetness? you like the way this cock fucks you. c’mon, tell me how good i make you feel.”

touya doesn’t really need an answer, especially when it’s unlikely that he’ll get one from you. pretty little girl, sweet ass up in the air and raw from the onslaught of spanks he’d given you earlier. your cunt shines with a slickness he so proudly knows that he’s caused and your hole puckers around nothing— so eager to be filled by the eldest todoroki’s cock. “t-touya, need you. p-please...” you babble, clawing at his black linen sheets, already stained with nectar from your leaky cunny.

oh you’re so good, so nice for him when you’re fucked dumb and on the edge of frustration— you say just what he wants to hear, so eager to please that you’d beg him for days if it meant you’d get your pussy abused and used. “that’s right little girl, you need me, right? ‘cause lil sho can’t take you the way i do. you need me to show you what it’s like to feel good.”

touya lives for the way your hips jump back from just his dirty words alone, clit pushing deliciously against the tip of his length— you’re so cute when you want it. when you wanna be fucked by an older, more experienced dick. you know that touya has what shoto doesn’t. you know you can always rely on him to make you cum when shoto can’t.

any decent older brother would feel bad for taking advantage of his sibling’s girl, but touya has a point to prove. he’ll always be the better todoroki, he knows that, especially when his burning cock sinks into your tight hole— the one that welcomes him into your velvet walls, so perfectly carved into the shape of him.

a drawn out and gargled whine bubbles in the back of your throat, the stretch making your eyes roll so far back into your head touya would have thought you’d passed out, it wouldn’t have been the first time either.

oh no, he remembers the way he’d made your fleshy thighs quiver and your meek voice turn to screams when he’d taken you in the bathroom across the hall from shoto’s bedroom the first time you stayed the night. or the time that he’d cornered you in the kitchen while you made a study snack for you and your boyfriend, carelessly flipping your skirt up and creaming in your virgin cunt until all you could say were mindlessly repeats of his name. touya. his name always sounded so pretty against jumbled words that slid across your tongue.

that one time in the kitchen, touya had sent you back to shoto’s room with your pink lace panties full of his pungent seed and had listened to shoto fuck it deeper inside of you later that night when you let the younger take you for the first time. touya wonders if his little brother truly believes he was lucky enough to take your virginity or if he knows how much of a whore you are for the eldest, white haired sibling. possession flares in his chest at the very thought, making him plunge himself into the deepest parts of you while you quiver like a little bitch below him.

his piercings drag up and down your gummy walls, friction causing you to drool amongst the pillows that you drown in. touya’s large hand pushes down on the small of your back, shaping your body into an uncomfortable arch— you whimper but don’t complain. taking his dick like you should, accepting him like you should. his balls, oh so heavy with cum, slap against your cheeks while your juices paint his tummy from how much you leak and the lewd sounds fill the air so loud, there’s no doubt poor little shoto todoroki can hear it through the walls.

“sweetness, you’re so bad— sneaking off to let your boyfriend’s big brother make you scream. you’re just a slut for the todoroki dick...aren’t ya? you’d probably let nat in on it too...” touya slurs, drooling at the way your backside bounces with every slam of his hips into you.

“n-no-! no... ‘m not a slut...not a—!” you squeal pathetically, barely able to finish your sentence as touya shoves your face into the sheets harshly— deep chuckle reverberating in his chest as he presses it to your sweaty back.

you still yourself, taking all what he gives to you even if it means you can barely breathe. the eldest todoroki lifts a hand to knock on the thin walls separating him from his little brother; words coming out as breathless as he thrusts into you deeper, harder, faster— abusing your barely prepped hole. “ya’hear that sho, yur lil angel’s not as innocent as you think; she’d let all of us fuck her if we asked nicely...” the way he speaks about you is mean; it could make you cry but all you do in response is clamp down on the man above you and suck him in deeper, selfishly just like he’d taught you. he smirks with pride at how much your cunt lives for him, at how his little brother is getting the show of his life time— probably jerking off to the sounds of his girl getting railed but someone who isn’t him.

touya’s hips stutter and he cums inside you with a shout, thick ropes of his hot seed spraying against your walls and seeping between your puffy folds. ringed fingers find your clit, drawing circles into them until you tip over the edge and tumble into your own release, clamping down so hard that you draw blanks from your boyfriend’s older brother. the way you twitch after touya’s emptied himself inside you, letting him press down on the sweet bulge at your tummy so his cum leaks out— almost makes him want to brush the hair away from your face and kiss you, but he remains objective— treating you as proof that he will always be the superior sibling.

when he’s pulled out of you and helped you to shaky legs to leave— he watched the regret wash over your innocent features like it always does when he’s made a woman out of you. “tell my little brother i said; sharing is caring, sweetness.” touya asks of you oh-so-kindly, revelling in the way your bottom trembles and a fresh set of tears well in your bambi eyes.

what? he couldn’t lie and say he didn’t mean to make you cry, but that would defeat the purpose if he was telling the truth.

[acdeaky]

out of the blue (3am calls)

warning: mentions of nightmares, implications of PTSD, fluff

note: this is (technically) my other submission for @celestialbarnes’ 4k writing challenge! i chose the prompt ‘bed’ and dialogue 9 ‘“was it the nightmares again?” “no” “you suck at lying”’ congrats again, rachel! and enjoy 🤍

read my other submission here!

word count: 1.9k

“...sorry that i can’t come to the phone right now, but- james?” you picked up, hearing the shaking breaths of bucky’s down the line as he tries to self soothe himself.

“hey,” he sighed down the receiver; you could imagine his metal hand running through his shortened locks, too. “did i wake you?”

“no, no, i’m always awake at...three-fourteen in the morning.” you replied, a teasing tone to your voice as you rubbed your sleep-ridden eyes.

“i just needed to hear your voice,” to ground me, he wanted to say, “i’m sorry, it was selfish.”

“i don’t mind, i wanna talk to you.” you smiled, knowing in a minute or so you’d be leaving the confines of your apartment to walk across the hall to bucky’s.

the other side of the phone stayed quiet for a moment, the only thing being heard was the static of the line. you didn’t want to say anything, knowing bucky usually needed a minute or two to collect this thoughts before he asked you to come over.

his excuse was that he felt like a burden; your response was always the opposite. ever since you had met him, something you always reminded him was that you were there for him, knowing what he had been through. although he was hesitant, the majority of the time you were by his side in the early hours of the morning.

“can you come over? just for a little while?” bucky’s voice was small, quiet, as always when he asked those four words. both of you knew that you’d be there much longer than ‘a little while’, but you didn’t mind when you forever replied,

“of course.”

it wasn’t long before you pulled a hoodie over your head, slipping on some socks before making your way to your front door. you grabbed your keys and opened your door, turning and twisting the lock as quickly as you could.

the hallway seemed darker than usual that night, the chill of the wooden floorboards seeping through your socks and hitting the pads of your feet as you crossed over to bucky’s apartment door. you knocked, waiting for the answer which came only a second or two later.

“i’m sorry.” was the first and only words he spoke as the door swung open.

“it’s okay.” you replied as bucky stood to the side, allowing you to step through the door before he closed it behind you.

the bareness of his apartment always worried you; it felt as if there was little progress happening, but it was. slowly but surely, and bucky knew this, he was just waiting for the right moment to ask you to go shopping with him. help pick out a new sofa, one you found comfortable. maybe even a coffee table, or a dining table so you had a proper place to sit while you ate your various take-outs every week.

it wasn’t like you didn’t see each other enough for him to ask, but he was hesitant; worried you’d say no, that he’d miss judged your friendship, your relationship even, that you were only a source of comfort on nights like this and not a friend who helped make a house a home.

even after that time you’d been with him whilst buying new bed sheets. his mind kept telling him right place, right time, that you didn’t actually want to do that with him, but you’d felt obliged to when running into each other in the store.

he was wrong, of course. your friendship meant the world to the both of you and you adored bucky, but he needed time and so did you. so, your friendship was just that: friends who saw each other the majority of the time, who found any free moment to spend together and who slept next to each other on nights like these...

bucky locked the door behind you before grabbing himself a quick drink, watching your figure as you stepped into the side of the living room and hovered over the blanket and pillow on the floor.

like usual, you said nothing, only following the same route into his bedroom while bucky left his now empty glass in the sink. just as he turned the corner, you were pulling the covers back, pulling off your hoodie and sliding under the sheets.

he watched for a minute, waiting for you to find a comfortable spot with the sheets pulled tightly around your body.

his mattress was cold, still hard, yet comfortable, from when he first bought it. the sheets were soft, too, your choice - of course - colours which you had said complemented his eyes; it was more difficult hiding the blush on his face than you hiding the price tag. he bought them anyway, knowing that you wanted the best for him and hoping that you’d put them to use some time.

and use them you had. there had been many nights since that day which you had spent in his bed, curled up against him as you feel asleep and bucky attempted to. you were the only reason the sheets got washed often; other than you and him on nights like these, nobody else used them.

it wasn’t long before he moved from his place by the door, following your early actions and joining you under the covers. ever the gentleman, bucky stayed on his side while you stayed on yours, him on his back with you on your side facing him.

it took for you to move closer to him, pressing your body into his for either of you to begin feeling any comfort.

the warmth of bucky’s body was a pleasant contrast to the mattress, both of you slowly warming up the longer you were huddled together. truly, you hadn’t meant to lay like this, but after climbing under the sheets next to him for the first time, bucky pulled you into his side and wrapped his arms around you. as if on instinct, your head laid on his bare chest, a hand resting in the middle of his torso as you shifted onto your side.

there were some delicate whispers from the two of you before you drifted to sleep. your kind words soothed bucky’s mind as he allowed himself to relax and settle back into the pillows; a luxury he rarely let himself have. his allowed you to feel them reverberate in his chest, his low hums acting as a settler for your thoughts.

both of you were asleep moments later.

-

“was it the nightmares again?” you asked the following night, your back against the headboard of your bed, the bright moonlight shining through the thin curtains you’d forgotten to pull across the window earlier.

“no”

“you suck at lying.” a light giggle came from you, followed by bucky’s unpleased sigh. you were right; he knew it and so did you, but you wanted him to admit it.

“i really don’t.” you scoffed lightly at those words, knowing that he didn’t even believe his own words.

“james barnes, how have you not yet learned that you cannot lie to me? i know you.” like always, there was a teasing tone to your voice, trying your best to cheer him up over the phone, especially when you could just tell that the nightmares were bad tonight.

for a moment, the other side of the phone feel silent, except for some light rustling of covers. you knew he was laid on the floor, blanket on top of and under him. regardless of how many times the two of you had tried, bucky could never find comfort inbetween his sheets unless you were there by his side.

“buck? you still there?” you hadn’t meant for your voice to go so quiet, but you really didn’t want to stop talking to him; you never wanted to stop talking to him.

“yeh, yeh i’m still here-” his sentence was almost cut off by three rough knocks at your door, making you body stiffen.

“hold that thought, buck.” you replied, moving slowly off of your bed and towards your slightly open bedroom door.

“doll, its okay,” he spoke softly, noticing the slight quiver to your voice. “its only me”

“could you not have told me that?” you laughed, speeding up to open the door as to not let him stand in the hallway for much longer.

“hey.” he smiled as the door opened, dropping his phone from his ear before ending the call.

“hey.” you mirrored his smile, doing the same while moving to the side to allow him in. as you shut and locked the door, bucky went through his usual routine every time he stepped into your apartment this late at night. his keys were dropped into the bowl on top of the cabinet by your front door, then he grabbed a drink fro your kitchen that was adjacent to your entryway, and then he met you in the doorway of your bedroom, your arms open and waiting for him.

he gladly accepted the contact, always relying on you to ground him when it felt like he’d been floating for too long. and tonight he had been.

both of you used the minimal light from the moon to figure out your way to your bed, his right hand never letting go of yours until he finally had to. the covers were pulled back from where you had left them moments ago, the sheets now cold.

the two of you laid in your bed moment later, bucky being the first to be settled on his back as you began to be pressed against his side, your head on his chest. along with the curtains, earlier you had left a small window open, allowing the noise of brooklyn at night to seep through to your room. neither of you would be falling asleep anytime soon.

“i love you, buck.” your whispered confession making its way to bucky just before he closed his eyes.

“love you, too.” he replied, not allowing the true meaning of his words to be heard.

“no, bucky,” you sat up, leaning your weight onto your right elbow as your left hand reached out for his cheek. “i love you, okay? i love you.”

there was no words for him. he truly hadn’t expected the weight of your confession and it has shocked him beyond words. all he could think to say was,

“i love you, too, doll.” his shy smile made an appearance, reminding you of the first time you saw each other. with that, you leaned forward, placing a delicate kiss onto his lips, the corner of his mouth and on his cheek.

bucky’s smile never faltered, only growing wider the longer you planted kisses upon his skin.

after leaving a lingering one on his jaw, you moved back to face him, resting your forehead onto his. “goodnight, baby.” you whispered, pressing one last kiss on to his lips.

“goodnight, doll.” bucky repeated your actions, leaving the both of you in a fit of smiles.

and, just like earlier, you laid on your side, your head resting above bucky’s heart with his vibranium arm around your shoulders. the two of you were asleep a few moments later, the steady beat of his heart bringing about a peace which you always felt around him.

-

taglist (for people who i think might enjoy this): @forever-rogue @buvky @buckys-darling @barnessupremacy @wallflowerbarnes @bvckysmoon @gryffindorwriter @lokiscollar @propertyofpoeandbucky @buckys-bug @aerynwrites

bucky taglist: @marvel-rhapsody @bloomingbucky