#they may have been younger? i��m very bad with kid ages

[dilf-docs]

All Roads Lead To Rome

pedro pascal x younger!reader

summary: your boyfriend swears he isn't annoyed at your little surprise visit on the set of gladiator II; you might have to help him release his anger, one way... or another.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (BARK BARK BARK), smut, p. in v., bit of exhibition kink cause they fuck on his trailer, he swears he's mad but he just wants head, oral (m. receiving), he also uses his armor and skirt while at it bc its hot and not bc i totally want that to happen to me or smth!!!, brat taming, orgasm denial, breeding and daddy kink lowkey, i'm so down bad for him so there's fluff!!! + pedro being whipped cause that's exactly what i want in my men, the cast makes cameos bc i love them!!! use of spanish (i'm latina so don't even try me), pedro wearing a skirt tehee

word count: 3,519 words

side note: i'm about as FERAL and horny as much as one could be!!! damn u pedro, making me walk out in the middle of class and walk on foot to the nearest theather for an early gladiator II screening (bc they're cheaper and i'm a jobless broke student lmao) that mind u it's my first solo trip to the movies but it's okay!!!! nobody interrupt me on my horny dilf hours amirite I TELL U that cinema was almost empty: just me, pedro and hey there's a spot if u wanna join mescal (look at my blog banner IYKYK) so yeah!!!! enjoy this porn lovechild that steemed from it; my pedro renaissance that'd been asleep since tlou dropped AWAKES (u don't get it, i literally watched narcos just for him) i'm so fr i need this man BIBLICALLY!!

"Lemme guess, that's her, right?"

Pedro looks up from his phone, slightly red and embarrassed. He would blame the color on the sun, and as an actor, fake his way out.

"No idea what you're talking about, Paul"

The young man chuckles.

"I mean, every break we get, you take your chair, sit the farthest and pull your phone with the most ridiculous grin I've ever seen. I'm afraid to tell you, friend, you aren't as slick as you think"

He leans back against the chair, covering his face with his large palm.

"At least I tried" he finds no point in lying anymore, "seems like I'm addicted, but if it wasn't for y/n, I wouldn't touch it"

"I'm curious, though" Paul scoots his chair closer, "who texts who? You or her?"

"Me" he answers, but then corrects himself quickly, a bit ashamed of how that makes him sound, "but it's mostly her first".

"Right" he doesn't sound convinced, rather curious and annoyed, something he's too old and tired for, "I don't believe you"

He's about to lock his phone, but the wallpaper (a selfie with you) would probably earn him another mock from Mescal.

"Too bad I don't need you to"

Before he can do so, the irish man yanks his phone away.

"Give it back!" he shouts, earning a few glances from the crew around them, "what are you, ten?"

"No, twenty-eight" they look like kids bickering. "No need to fight me, Mr. Pascal, they haven't taught us the new fighting choreography yet" he mocks, before the phone chimes; they both stop at the sound.

"What does this mean?" Paul asks. "Malta's nice" he reads out loud, "were you talking about possible future vacations? I might have to tag along"

He doesn't follow the man's joke, instead, looking at the message on your chat. Malta's nice, says the little cryptic message, and yes―it is cryptic, because you were just talking about missing each other and some other corny stuff he'd take to his grave. Not vacations, and certainly, not about the european island, which happens to also be the place were he's filming his latest movie.

"No, we weren't" he replies confused, "what do you think it means?"

"Well, obviously, you boys don't know anything" May pops up from behind, laughing.

"Were you eavesdropping?" he asks playfully, albeit, a little offended.

"No, you guys are just too loud" she replies nonchalant. "Besides, you aren't very good at hiding it, either"

"That's what I said!" Paul backs, laughing on his face.

"Stop being misterious and just drop it"

"It means" she pauses―laughing at her own little dramatic effect, "that you're getting a visit soon"

When you met Pedro, you were working in The Last Of Us. Nothing fancy, just part of the technical cast of the show: helping with the filming and stuff.

During those months, it was easy to find yourself falling for the main star (alongside Bella Ramsey), especially when you spent months behind a camera, capturing all of his perfect features; learning them by memory until you could draw them without seeing his face.

Yes, you had fallen for the older man, because it was as natural as breathing; easy as being alive―the fall so gentle and so easy, it was hard to know when the feelings started. You just woke up one day, feeling different.

You liked to act up―always had what you wanted, and times had changed (so it's not like he had to ask first): why not? Which is why during your last day of shooting you took some liquid courage on your veins and went up his way. It was at a little gathering the crew you've grown to call family organized, while wearing your favorite and tightest dress, that you approached him.

It surprised you that he even recognized you, but that's who he was: warm, welcoming and caring.

To augment the surprise, turns out he had eyed you already, but was too shy to do anything. Yes, the worlds most famous Chilean man. It did stroke your ego, and maybe that's why you feel like most of the time, you've got the upper hand on your relationship, despite the years in between.

Still, you feel like the last message you just sent was a bit too blunt. Now you sit at the tiny airport, pondering your next move.

You know your boyfriend isn't exactly the type to scold or get mad―despite his strong figure, but going against the only thing he asked you might test him. Which is why you feel nervous, despite the happiness around you, everyone in the airport looking straight out of a picture perfect summer edition magazine.

And your theory is proven exactly right when you arrive impromptu at the Gladiator II set: making heads turn and guards almost kick you out, thinking you're a fan.

"You don't get it!" you protest, "he's my boyfriend".

"Sure", they laugh on your face. "you're not the first to say that".

"She's not lying" oh, how you love that gravely voice. But not today: not when he sounds like a parent scolding a naive child. Not when his eyes bore into you, slightly irritated.

So now he's dragging you among the set, right to were his trailer is.

"Aren't you going to introduce me?" you ask, puffing your cheeks out in annoyance. He keeps dragging you by the arm, without sparing a glance in your way. Who does he think he is? "I wanted to tell Paul he made me cry―twice. You know I don't play about Normal People and Aftersun"

"But you do seem to play about my orders" he grunts out, opening the door to his trailer. The sunlight reflects against the white, slightly bothering your eyes with its shine, contrary to your boyfriend's gloomy behaviour.

"Are you being serious right now? You're not my dad to scold me. I just wanted to surprise you" you stand still, refusing to get inside. Pedro knows your character tends to be stubborn, and thought he finds it hot to reel you up sometimes, there are other times where he can't just stand that juvenile spirit of rage you tend to have when things don't go the way you want them to. "What's gotten into you?"

"I could ask you the same" he mocks. "Get inside. Now"

"Rude" you scoff, but obey regardless, and he breathes out relieved you didn't do a scene like last time; he still can't show his face on that restaurant to this day.

"I thought you'd be happy to see me" you say a tad bit dissapointed, and Pascal feels the pissed off feelings clouding his brain start to dissipate.

"I do, amor" he sighs, "just hate to see you do things I tell you not to; waltzing in here like you own the place".

You don't see the mistake, though. What's wrong with wanting to do a little surprise? It's not like you were a stalker or something; just a very clingy girlfriend who happens to miss her boyfriend.

"So, you're not mad?" you venture, "tell me you're not embarrassed"

He looks at you, the fondness of his gaze betraying him.

"I'm not the one wearing a skirt while trying to sound intimidating" you joke while caressing the crook of his nose, knowing you always get on his good side. Being mad isn't something that lasts, "if anyone should be embarrassed, that's you"

"Are you saying I shouldn't wear one because I'm a man?" your boyfriend looks offended, "Have you forgotten the movie I'm starring in? People feared the skirt-wearing Roman army"

"Well, I'm not intimidated" you stand defiant, and something dark tints his brown eyes. You can feel the excitement begin pooling in your stomach.

"You're not?" he grips your wrists and yanks you to him, then holds your chin, tilting your head between his calloused fingers. "Well, cariño, you should be"

Your body slams against one of the trailers walls, and you have to suppress a whine.

"You must be punished for what you did today"

You give him a doe-eye look, pretending to be all innocent, as if you weren't enjoying the punishment.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I've been a good girl"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about" he clicks his tongue, "don't play dumb with me"

"I just came to visit you" you murmur, voice husky against his ear. He grunts, and with the proximity, his hard-on rasps against your bare legs, only partly covered by the flowy summer dress you're wearing, "is that so bad?"

"It is. Has sido mala, cariño" his hand travels down under your dress, carresing with his large palm the silhoutte of your ass. The rings on his fingers create a shock, cold metal against your warm sun-bathed skin. "Naughty girl"

"I promise I'll be good, papi" you purr, using that honeyed voice of yours that makes it hard: hard to say no and hard between his pants.

Pedro sits on a small couch he has inside the trailer, guiding you with his hand enveloped around yours, motioning you to follow with a care so soft, you'd doubt he's about to do to you what he is about to do to you. He pulls you across his lap, smiling (God, you love his smile) as your stomach presses against his tights.

"Don't worry" he breathes low, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'll make you a good girl. Tell me, aren't you?"

You swallow, "I am"

He moves the panties easily to the side, rubbing your pussy a little. He then spanks it softly, making you mewl at the sting.

Pedro continues to trace over it, "Are you sure about that?"

"N-no" you shiver in delight, resolve dissolving as quick as it came. "I'm naughty"

"It's good to be aware" he murmurs, "Dilo otra vez"

"I'm a naughty girl"

He lifts your head by your hair. "Tell me what you did"

"Disobeyed your orders, coming to the set" you whisper. He lets go of your hair, his hands traveling down again, slowly teasingly rubbing your pussy while he humms.

"You were a little brat, amor"

You whimpered and mewled in delight. "I was a very naughty brat"

He pushed his fingers inside you, plunging his fingers into your pussy.

"Look at you. You're soaking wet" he pumped his fingers in you, making you moan, "Is that why you came to see me? Couldn't wait any longer for daddy to be inside of you?"

You bucked a little, making him stop. He drags his fingers out, causing you to beg for him to go back.

"Answer my question you greedy thing" He leaned closer to your ear. "Did you need my cock this much?"

You whimper, "I do! Missed you so much"

He pushed his fingers back into you, provoking a moan out of you.

"You're always so needy for me" your core tenses, making you shiver. "How badly do you want me? Tell me"

You whimpered "Badly, papi"

"Say it" his face contorts in satisfaction at your pathethic display; crying little mess, "Who's cock, fingers and mouth make you feel good?"

You can't think at this point, your brain fuzzy and pussy hot, leaking. You kiss his lips, moaning against them, "you!"

"Just me, yes? Nobody else can make you feel this good?"

"No one!"

You involuntarily roll your hips to aid you in pleasure, yet Pedro stops you just before you can reach your orgasm.

"Little brat." he tuts, making you groan. "Did you think I'd let you? You were naughty today, baby"

You huff in annoyance, used to having your way.

"That's your punishment"

"But I'll behave" you mewl against his ear, "I promise"

“Good, because I'm planning on fucking your brains out” his hot breathe whispers in your ear seductively, trying his best not to slur the words at the drunken haze that your arousal provokes in him, "but you have to help me first"

You get on your knees, looking at the garment he's wearing. The skirt and general costume makes this all the more hot, mouth watering at the sight. You raise the skirt, glancing at the briefs; just seeing his dick strained against the fabric makes you wet in anticipation.

He sees the pleasure bore into your orbs, and before you do any dirty idea of yours, he's already warning:

"You have to take this off, what if we-"

"Alright" you cut him off, "but the skirt stays"

"Sigue, pues" he growls, voice low yet demanding, following you in your little game.

As you pull the briefs down, his erection springs out enthusiastically, slapping up against his lower abdomen. You shifted your gaze up to meet his, his eyelids heavy and his proud smirk driving you absolutely wild.

"That's right" he chokes out, "show me how much you missed it"

You give him a proud lick, and Pedro hisses at the moment his preseminal fluid goes in between your hungry lips.

Your tongue darts to the head of his cock, running over it several times before bobbing your head down, taking most of him in your mouth. He keeps praising as you pump the base of his cock with your hand. Your head bobs, yet you peek up to hear Pascal's little sounds and facial expression, a motivation so intimate in the way his brows furrow and eyes roll, mouth agape at your movements while his lip suck on those pretty lips of his. It makes you keep going. With every bob you take as much of him in your mouth as you can, before slowly moving your way back up to the tip, increasing your suction the closer to his head you got. A throaty moan escapes the man above you when you now focus on the final lick, making him closer to coming, all while maintaining eye contact the entire way through.

"Don't do that" he rasps, yanking you by the hair again, as of punishment, but he knows you enjoy it, "you promised you'd be good"

You can't answer, so instead, you reach the head of his cock again, and now his eyes roll back, mumbling profanities that sound like heaven.

"Do you want them to hear us, brat? Qué necia eres" he manages to chastise while moaning.

You feel his dick stuck in your throat, and the way he's about to come; you think that after some time dating, you know him well enough.

You're about to leave with your mouth when he stops you.

"No" your eyes open in shock, "what? Did you think your punishment is over?" Pedro laughs, "don't look at me like that. Like you have never done it before"

He keeps you in place by the hair, the rings prickling against your scalp. You feel his muscles tense up, and before you can think anything else thick and hot shots of cum invade your mouth, making it sticky and warm.

"Don't pretend you don't like it" his voice goes dark, husky. "Swallow it all. Te han enseñado a no desperdiciar nada, ¿verdad? Show me your good manners, then"

When you pull out, your throat feels raspy.

"You gotta reward me" you cough out.

"I promised, didn't I?" his fingers trace your face delicately, with adoration.

"It's all about duty, General Acacius" you purr, and the dick springs out again. Hard.

"Princess..." he warns.

"For the glory of Rome" you joke and laugh, then cough, as your throat is still sore.

"Have you been reading my script?" as you avoid to answer, he just chuckles, "ay, nena"

"C'mere" he motions, and you sit on his lap again. Pedro lifts your dress, exploring the curve of your ass. There's anticipation as he hooks his finger around the waistband of your panties, pulling them down to access your core.

"Fuck" you squirm at his touch, grinding your freed cunt against his hard cock. He grabs you by the hip, adjusting you right on his lap.

"You taste so good" he kisses down your throat, ending at the chest were your tits peak.

"Want them?" you offer, pulling your dress down. He kisses them, gently nipping at your perked up nipples.

A wave of pleasure courses through you, and with whines and moans, you show how desperate you are, the hunger making the meal taste better. After all those weeks missing him, you just want him to fuck you senseless.

His lips are rosy and swollen against yours, mouths clashing; starved of the yearned contact. Truth is, no matter how much you know how to touch yourself, it'll never be the same as having his hard cock tear through your tight folds.

Pedro easily aligns his leaking cock with your uncovered pussy, all while mantaining the kiss. He pushes down on you, your dripping cunt taking all of his rock-hard cock, fingers holding onto the soft brown grey sprinkled locs.

"Pedro" you cry out his name, full of ecstasy as the stretch burns so sweetly. His low grunts only fuel your desire.

You trace with your eyes his body, now bare without the upper part of the costume: his pecs and abs, flexing with every pump. With now free hands, your fingers travel to softly caress his stomach, even if your tits are jiggling and the pace is rather frenetic.

"I miss your tummy" you pout.

"I miss eating too" he whispers out, tiredly. He's reminded of his old age, forgetting about it as soon as you two kiss, because you bring out a stamina he thinks he doesn't have anymore; almost animalistic. His bones creak and adding the tiring filming day under the hot sun, he feels his body start to give up, the orgams closer and closer.

"No matter how you look" you clash your lips onto his, the adoration translating through the smile you press against, a trail of saliva that symbolizes how interwined you are, "you always look so fucking good"

He blushes, feeling like a stupid school boy with a crush. What did he even do to deserve you? Never thought a pretty young wild thing like you would even spare a glance on his way, but now you're taking all of his cock inside with such greed yet loom into his eyes with a love he's only dreamed of.

You're real, and his.

As soon as those words leave your mouth your orgasm spills over him, some of it dripping onto the skirt, making him curse. You can't stop, still meeting his thrusts halfway, despite your trembling body after reaching your high.

"Mierda" he groans against your mouth,

You feel yourself collapsing on top of him, the weight of the jet lag catching up.

"Getting tired, baby?" he coos. "Shit, and I thought I was old"

"You are" you reply back; you can never not have the last word. And he lets you, because, God, doesn't he love you? He pretends to look offended by it, but the way your eyes shine tell him you didn't mean it that way. "You and your white hairs" tracing over his moustache, a soft hand combing through his locks, "These wrinkles... don't you know how much I love them? how much I love you?"

"And you have no idea how much I love you" he squeezes his eyes shut, feeling it coming through. "God, wanna make you mine. Sólo mía" his pace slows. It's coming, and yes, you will take it all. "Wanna make you a baby, mami. Want you to take it all like the good girl you are"

When he comes, filling you with burning hot cum until you feel like you might burst, you're numb. But there's a feeling so content that pools warmth in your chest, that you can't say anything else, resting your head against his bare chest, both covered in sticky sweat.

"No sé cómo voy a explicar esto" he speaks through ragged breathes, and you can only smirk, "a squirted and cummed roman skirt".

"That isn't my problem" he scoffs, and you feel your head rise against the movement, earning a laugh out of you, "I'm not part of the movie"

"You'd sure think so, with the way you walked in here"

You roll your eyes, face hidden against his chest, "can you let that go?"

"You're right" he pulls you closer to him, hand enveloping you behind your bare back. The quiet doesn't bother you as you lie closer to his chest, his heartbeat the only thing you need to be at peace, "I think punishment time is over. Think you've learned your lesson"

"Then, how about we go out? I've heard Malta's beaches are pretty"

"Relájate, cariño. Seems you've gotten your energy back" he quips, then kisses your forehead. "We need to wait for everyone to get out"

"That embarrased you are of me?" you joke.

"No" he can already imagine his fellow cast members making fun of him, starting with Paul and Joseph when they see you and Connie who will totally notice the fun sticky stains on the costume, "but embarrased of the explanation I'll have to give"

[the-faceless-amalgam]

Hi, so introduction here. Written by L, I will introduce myself later as I introduce everyone here. But first, a quick description of the body we all share.

We are about 5'11', white with an average build I'd say, we have a tummy but honestly that should be average. The body is undergoing gender confirming hormone therapy towards femininity (MtF) as that is more comfortable for the majority and there are no folks being upset by it. We generally, mostly due to me being the front person most of the time, are dressed in an alternative style somewhere in the Goth, Grunge and Punk triangle.

So, introductions to everyone in the system. These may well get edited as this will be our pinned post, even if this blog is primarily for me to wax academic about experiences and reflect on the way everything feels.

L - 26y/o, body adjacent age. Body associating in body image. (They/Them)

I am kind of the face for the system, the person that has unintentionally defined us all very strongly. I identify as trans feminine non-binary, I'm ace spectrum pan. I was a blind front until 2 years ago (in 2024) when I found out due to counselling with a therapist who had specialized in dissociative conditions. To my understanding I have been around in the head since the body was 9-11. I am a youth worker by occupation, I love to build worlds for TTRPGs and I am also a massive motorcycle dyke (dyke in the gender sense more so than the sexuality sense).

T - 26y/o, body adjacent age. Does not associate the body with their body image.

T is a very outgoing and excited person. T is a cis woman from her perspective, pansexual and ace spectrum. T has been very close with myself (L) in the head for some time and we have learned a lot from each other but do want to stay as separate people. T is a lot more aware of the system and has been around for a very long time in a range of ways. T dates and enjoys going out for drinks and generally sits in a very adult joy space.

J - 18(?)y/o. Body adjacent image but masculine and younger.

J likes music a lot and is very supportive and kind. He also, unlike most of the folks in the system, has a dialect and accent more in line with the council estate area we grew up in. This has caused me anxiety as people who know mine and the generally RP accented voice may mistake this for appropriation of or mockery of folks with this accent and dialect. However there is also classism on my part baked into that from parenting. J likes to play music in the head which can be nice when it's not too distracting. J and T often watch period dramas such as Downton and Bridgerton together which is cute.

A - 30y/o. Body adjacent image with the beard we used to have and ginger hair.

A started out from my perspective as a cleaner, just a guy who popped in when I was overwhelmed and cleaned my flat while I was asleep. Turned out he was a whole ass guy not just a fragmented bit of us. A takes care of the kids and the folks that can't cope and still cleans up but we try to share more. He likes "golden age of TV" shows like Mad Men and Breaking Bad. He also enjoys Formula 1. A is a gay guy and is aromantic, which is a big standout in the head as we're generally soppy romantics. A recently merged with a protector who was becoming disillusioned and angry because they're job of keeping me (L) unaware of having the condition had failed, this has had some effects on A's personality but not much.

M - 55/56y/o. Does not associate their body image with the body.

M is the angry Scottish man who got locked in a pub so I wouldn't get angry at things. He's from Glasgow much like part of the body's family and generally operates as an inside the brain voice, letting us know it's ok to be angry and ranting. He's also very insightful and very funny, he enjoys Johnny Cash a lot and when I come to if he's been about there's a chance out Johnny Cash record will be on.

P - Age Fluctuating. Uncertain of Body Image

P holds a lot of trauma, having lived near the dump or box in the head where we put things we can't deal with they have come to hold a lot of that. I don't know P very well, A looks after and makes sure they are ok but generally I will start to cry uncontrollably if P is around at the same time as me and then I will lose time. The one thing I do know is that P enjoys Vivaldi's Operas as they are always playing when I come back.

K - 8y/o. Body adjacent body image.

K is the kid, they're happy and cute. They like Ghibli movies and cartoons generally and they seem to have a friendship group inside the head that mirrors our adult friends in an age appropriate way for them. A takes care of them a lot and I try to help by making space for them, getting them snacks they like and watching TV with them.

C - C is a cat.

I don't really know how or why. There's just a bit of my brain that's a cat, I grew up with cats and I have a cat myself so that's a likely axis of cause. Mostly the cat comes out at home and, well, cat naps.

[deans-baby-momma]

The Story of Us-Chapter 18

A/N: This is a rewrite of a story my good friend @spnbaby-67 allowed me to take and rewrite. All mistakes are mine. This is canon divergent, meaning some things that happened in the show will still happen here but with my own twist to it.

Summary: She and Dean met when they were kids. Even at such a young age, she knew that he was her soulmate. Being the daughter of a hunter, Michaela (Micki) Singer knew the life he led came with a price, but she was up to the challenge.

Pairings: Dean Winchester/reader, Sam Winchester/friend!reader, John Winchester, Mary Winchester (mentioned only), Bobby Singer, and more from the Supernatural universe.

Warnings: Flashbacks are in italics, fluffy stuff, angst stuff, character death, kidnapping, depression, semi-dark themes

A/N2: Another chapter of just a flashback. 

Singer Salvage (May 2007)

Sam disappeared so Bobby had taken off to help Dean find him. Micki hadn't been feeling too well so she stayed back at her childhood home. She kept busy with housework and cleaning, when she wasn't running to the bathroom to dispel whatever she'd eaten prior. It was aggravating and irritating and she cursed herself every time. 

A thought crossed her mind after the third trip to hover over the toilet and Micki vowed that as soon as she felt like she wasn't going to puke, she was making a trip into town to the pharmacy.

She knew the gossip would spread quickly once she bought what she needed; old Mrs. Crensan, the pharmacy's lone cashier, was a busybody who told everyone's business. Hell, when Mr. Harris was prescribed Viagra, it was all over town before he even made it home. 

After a shower and getting dressed, Micki grabbed the keys to one of the only running vehicles in the junkyard and headed into town.

Cold Oak, SD (at the same time)

Dean tried to warn Sammy of the man coming up behind him, but he was too late. He was stunned in horror as he watched the knife be thrust into his brother's back before the younger Winchester fell to his knees and the attacker took off.

Bobby pushed past Dean to chase after Sam's assailant, breaking him out of his stupor. He rushed to Sam and kneeled in front of him.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Sam. Sam! Hey! Hey, hey. Come here. Let me look at you."

He placed his hand on the wound in SAM’S back which was quickly covered in blood.

"Hey, look at me. It’s not even that bad. It’s not even that bad, all right? Sammy? Sam! Dean pulled back to see Sam was barely conscious and his head wobbled. "Hey, listen to me. We’re gonna patch you up, okay? You’ll be good as new. Huh? I’m gonna take care of you. I’m gonna take care of you. I’ve got you. That’s my job, right? Watch out for my pain-in-the-ass little brother?"  Dean watched as Sam's eyes slowly shut. "Sam? Sam! Sam! Sammy!"

When Sam's body slumped against his, Dean cried out into the night. "No. No, no, no, no, no, no. Oh, God. Oh, God!"

When Bobby returns and sees the scene in front of him, his eyes fill with tears as he mourns the boy he practically raised from infancy.

Sioux Falls, SD

Micki waited for the sliding glass doors to open. They were being stupid slow in her hurry to get what she needed and get back home. The whole 'Am I? Am I not?' adage kept repeating in her head.

She mistakenly walked down the wrong aisle at first and when she finally found the products she needed, she was overwhelmed at the number of options. Why are there so many different varieties?! She only needed one that would confirm or deny her suspicions.

Picking the most expensive one she went to walk away but then turned back and grabbed a cheap one also, just in case.

She huffed as she got in line and waited to pay for her purchases. Of course the line was long and the old biddy behind the register was carrying on conversations with each and every shopper.

When it was finally her turn, Micki sat the two boxes on the counter and dug into her pocket for her debit card.

"Oh, what do we have here dear?" Mrs. Crensan said. "Somebody wasn't very careful, were they?"

Micki just smiled as she waited for the items to be rang up. She wasn't really in the mood to defend herself.

"You know, you should be married before you need something like this," the gray-haired meddlesome drolled. "I swear, you kids these days-", she shook her head in disbelief before continuing. "-don't take no precautions. Just out there having premarital sex without a care in the world. Babies born out of wedlock are-"

"Thank you, Mrs. Cresan but I don't need your judgmental, holier-than-thou lecture." Micki swiped her card and grabbed the bag with the pregnancy tests in it and left, without waiting for a receipt.

She stomped away and out the doors as they slid open. 

Back at home, she ran upstairs and into the bathroom. Sitting on the toilet, she ripped the first box-the expensive one- open and read the instructions.

"Seems simple enough," she stated to herself and positioned the stick where it needed to be.

Ten minutes later, she had her answer. Times two. 

Cold Oak, SD

Dean sat in the rigid, uncomfortable chair beside the bed they'd laid Sam's body on. After cleaning the wound and the dirt from Sam's skin, he sat and stared at the lifeless shell that was once his baby brother.

"You know, when we were little— and you couldn't been more than 5— you just started asking questions. How come we didn't have a mom? Why do we always have to move around? Where'd Dad go when he'd take off for days at a time?" Dean spoke to no one. "I remember I begged you, 'Quit asking, Sammy. Man, you don't want to know.'

I just wanted you to be a kid... Just for a little while longer. I always tried to protect you... Keep you safe... Dad didn't even have to tell me. It was just always my responsibility, you know? It's like I had one job... I had one job...

And I screwed it up," Dean paused as he sniffled back the tears. "I blew it. And for that, I'm sorry." He wiped tears from his face.

"I guess that's what I do. I let down the people I love. I let Dad down. And now I guess I'm just supposed to let you down, too.

How can I? How am I supposed to live with that?"

Tired of hiding his emotions, Dean finally broke down and sobbed audibly.

"What am I supposed to do? Sammy. God.

What am I supposed to do?" Sniffle. 

"WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO?!" He yelled into the void. A thought comes to mind and he becomes determined to see it through. 

Grabbing the keys and the half bottle of whiskey Bobby left, Dean ran out to the Impala. 

The demon, a tiny brunette in a black party dress, circled Dean as she spoke. 

"Following in Daddy's footsteps. You wanna make a deal. Little Sammy back from the dead, and—let me guess— you're offering up your own soul?"

"There are a hundred other demons who'd love to get their hands on it," Dean snarked. "And it's all yours. All you gotta do is bring Sam back. And give me ten years— ten years, and then you come for me."

"You must be joking," the demon laughed.

After some more back and forth, it was settled. Sam would come back and Dean had one year-365 days- to live. 

With a kiss, the deal was sealed.

Sioux Falls, SD

At the same time Dean was kissing away his life, Micki peeked at the tests laid out on the bathroom sink, sucking in a breath and placing a palm on her stomach as she read the positive results.

When her father returned and broke the news of Sammy's death, they both mourned for him. And Micki kept her news to herself. For now. 

A/N3: Okay. Okay. I know the timelines don’t really add up but this idea came to me and I just had to write it. Sorry not sorry

@lostinaseaoffictionalbliss @spnbaby-67 @tftumblin @sea040561 @delightfullykrispypeach @larajadeschmidt13 @atc74 @vicariouslythruspn @squirrelnotsam  @sandlee44 @blacktithe7 @hoboal87 @mogaruke @deanwanddamons @supraveng @deandreamernp @akshi8278 @lyarr24 @maggiegirl17 @chriszgirl92

[ruindunburnit]

Can we talk about my biggest pet peeve in the House of Night series? Thanatos was said to be almost 500 years old. Why the effing hell does nobody talk about the fact that she was born shortly past the middle ages!? You're telling me there are adults in that school who have lived through wars and those old victorian paintings, the discoveries of science and there are literal immortals running around and the kids aren't all over that? Has Nyx seen dinosaurs? Why is no one talking about that? What were the fucking middle ages like? I wanna know so badly! Why and how did nobody ever ask about that!?

Okay but this is a fantastic point and I would love to talk more about it! There's such a strange incuriosity that the fledglings -- and vampyres in general -- have around history and historical events that it just completely baffles me. Because you're right! There's surely no way that the younger characters wouldn't give more than half-a-whoop to finding out "what really happened" way back then! And if a real teenager had a chance, surely they would ask Nyx if She saw the dinosaurs and what She thought to them, and if Spielberg's films captured them very well at all.

I've taken a little while to think about this ask because I really wanted to chew on it, and I think I have two ideas as to why it possibly is as it is, going strictly by the Cast canon, but I don't like what they say.

The first is a Watsonian explanation: there's very little focus on what these ancients know from the past because the big conflict of the series story is (at least supposedly) "how do you take a culture that's old and imbued with tradition and keep it alive and contemporary?" It's not a bad question to base a series like HON around, and it is something that many old and ancient traditions and religions have been trying to answer. And you do see that from different characters, from Shekinah and the High Council (it's okay to be modern, but these are what we do and we don't enjoy most change if any), to Neferet (let's go back to the older ways and isolate even more), to Sgiach (there are parts of the traditions you refuse to acknowledge and I will be over here until you're ready to acknowledge them), to Zoey (they're great and precious but we're not modernising enough and we're too insular). But as a result, it does mean that we don't even give a thought to the history that all these traditions come from, or the memories and voices of the past that inform the present. I (as I often do) also wonder where the Burning Times figure in all this and if it may have shortened the cultural memory somewhere -- as cataclysmic, apocalyptic events suffered by an entire people tend to do (and there are a few very real ones we could refer to here as examples!) -- but since it's almost as though the authors don't know what it involved, I'm not going to ask about it. (My own thoughts are all headcanon, and ergo, apocryphal to this discussion).

In any case, it's kind of hard to take that central thesis statement seriously when we don't have a lot to compare it to, and what we have feels either thrown in or, well, not very well done. As a result, the conflict of tradition versus progression is hamstringed by the lack of historical evidence on offer.

This brings me to my Doylian explanation: the characters are incurious about history because either the Casts are, or they're at least aware of their limitations in portraying it properly.

What do I mean? Well, we know the worldbuilding in the HON series is truly a sight to behold (derogatory), so what doesn't surprise me is that almost no one mentions what the context of having Known Vampyres running around might have done to change the events of history as we know it. I think that's the question we seem to dodge in the fandom (or one that I personally haven't seen asked), partly because we can infer from the series canon that very little (if anything) differs between their world and ours, yet if we think for more than five minutes, having an entire species of power-imbued Person running around, known openly to the world as vampyres, should have surely changed a lot! If almost nothing in history differs, and yet the existence of vampyres is the same, that tells me that these vampyres, who are so powerful and benevolent, saw the horrors of the past centuries being inflicted on their human siblings and, well, did nothing. I personally think that this aspect wouldn't be a bad thing to have as part of the canon, since trying to incorporate historical differences could have led to a Revisionist rewriting of history that would have been executed really poorly or at least been dubbed incredibly insensitive (which no doubt it would have been, given their track record). I can see why the Casts went along the route of "vampyres leave the human world behind and do their own thing" on that score, although it doesn't explain why nothing of historical events differed at all, since vampyres would have had to interact with the human world at some point anyway. That is, I think having that complexity and shame to vampyres taking a bystander stance to the human world and its problems, when they know they can do so much good, would have been interesting to explore! However, for the Casts to realise that this state of unchanged history in a world with vampyres in it would require vampyres to be bystanders to misery, and acknowledge it, they would have found it very difficult to reconcile it with the image they hold of their vampyres as ultimately good and wonderful.

Meanwhile, the other problem is that when the Casts have tried to give voice to history, such as with the backstories and flashbacks of various characters like Neferet and the Lankfords and Lenobia, it's turned out so, well, bad! The inaccuracies alone have been so outstanding, I have to assume they were writing by the seat of their pants the whole time and hoping you couldn't see the cracks, and I can see why they hesitate to delve into it.

That is, I assume they don't have the young characters asking about history because the older characters would, by their characterisation, be required to answer, and P.C. and Kristin Cast simply do not know the answers and hesitate to find out. Because they don't know enough about history and don't seem to know how to go about finding the answers, they haven't asked how much it would have changed with vampyres in it, and they hesitate to bring it up.

In short, sadly, the answer is incompetence and ignorance. I would love to know what you think to this long, slightly rambling answer, though!!!

[bitchin-beskar]

Royal Affairs - I

A Choice is Made

Rating: T (Will change to M in future chapters)

Warnings: None, for this chapter. 

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 4k

A/N: Hey all!! This is a brand new AU that I’ve decided to dive headfirst into!! An anon sent @absurdthirst a message, asking if anyone had written King Din before, and I saw it on my feed, and that inspired this series!! (on the off chance that that anon follows me, if you wanna send me a message or something, I’d be glad to credit you as the inspiration behind this story!) This is an AU story where Mandalore never fell to the Empire, and Din is the King by right of conquest (winning the Darksaber). More of the AU will be explored in the story, but if you have any questions, feel free to send me some asks! I’ll gladly answer what I can, as long as it doesn’t spoil anything!! I wholly blame @mxndoscyarika for being the reason this chapter is out so soon. She is an enabler. (@ollypopp also got to hear a lot of rambles about this au... i’m not sorry). I hope you guys like it!!!!! Please let me know what you guys think!!!

Please consider reblogging and leaving a comment!! I love hearing what you guys think!!

When you’d gone to bed last night, you certainly weren’t expecting anything monumentous to happen today. Today was supposed to be just another day spent running your little apothecary with your sister, before going to sleep and doing it all over again tomorrow. 

But as you stared down at the small little green alien child hiding behind your counter, you knew that today wasn’t going to go the way you planned. 

“Hey, little one,” you murmured, crouching down, but staying far enough back that he wouldn’t feel trapped by you. “How’d you get in here, huh? Where are your parents?”

He looked up at you with his huge round eyes, his little lip quivering, and your heart broke. 

“Hey, it’s alright sweetheart,” you whispered, holding your hands out. “I’m not gonna hurt you, it’s okay–” You were a little thrown off when he waddled straight into your arms, and you instinctively clutched him to your chest. He buried his little face into your tunic and began to cry, little heart-wrenching sobs as his tiny body shook in your arms. 

Standing, you quickly moved to the back room, seeing your sister in the middle of bottling some healing bacta salve. 

“A’denla, can you cover the shop for me?”

She turned, about to ask why when she saw the sobbing child in your arms. You mouthed that you’d explain later, and she just nodded, turning and heading for the counter, leaving you alone in the back with the little one. 

You rocked the little baby back and forth, humming softly as you tried to get him to calm down. You didn’t have a whole lot of experience with children, but you knew enough from helping watch the children of other villagers while they ran their shops when you were younger. 

His tearful cries eventually slowed to little whimpers and hiccups, and you were able to encourage him to detach from your shirt. He rubbed at his eye with his little arm, and you were startled to see a dark green, almost black bruise on his tiny wrist. 

“Who hurt you, little one?” You gently took his hand, inspecting the bruise. He whimpered when you brushed your fingers over his skin. “I bet that hurts something fierce, huh?” 

You take him over to where your sister had the bacta salve out, setting him down gently on the countertop. “Can I use some of this, sweetheart? It’ll help you heal faster.” You’re not sure if he can understand you, but then he takes a long moment to look at the little bottle of blue gel you’re holding before looking up at you, solemnly nodding, his big ears flapping a little with the motion. 

You step away to wash your hands, grabbing a small strip of gauze as well. Dipping your fingers into the salve, you gently brush it over his bruise, your heart twisting every time his little features scrunch up in pain. Once his arm is sufficiently covered, you carefully wrap the gauze around the bruise, securing it with a small clip. 

He looks at his arm before looking back at you, cooing, a wide smile on his face, showing off his baby teeth. His arms raise in the universal sign for “up please!” and you’re unable to deny him, scooping him up in your arms, and cradling him once more to your chest. 

Pressing his face against your skin with a contented sigh, he nuzzles against you for a moment before you feel his breathing begin to even out. “It must be exhausting being so little, huh?” 

You carry him over to the small bassinet you have set up for when you’re watching your brother’s baby girl when he’s busy. The little child fits easily in the small padded space, and you carefully cover him up before stepping back. You have no idea how he got to your shop, and he’s not exactly a race you recognize. Hopefully his parents are somewhere nearby, otherwise you’re going to have a hard time finding them. Although, you’d noticed that his bruises seemed to be in the shape of a hand, and you really didn’t want to place him back into the arms of abusers. 

The tinkling of a bell rang through the shop, signalling the arrival of a customer. You quickly shut the door on the small room with the bassinet, walking towards the counter where your sister is. A’denla isn’t exactly the best with people, and you know she prefers to work in the back, so as soon as you get to the counter, you nudge her away so that she can go back to packaging up products. 

She gives you a grateful smile, ducking into the back as you turn to face two of perhaps the strangest customers you’ve ever met. One is a Rodian, which isn’t necessarily odd in of itself, but usually they tend to stay away from Mandalore. Most Mandalorian’s aren’t exactly known for their tolerance towards other races. The other appears to be human, but you’ve learned to not judge people by their outward appearances.  

“We’re looking for our bounty,” the Rodian grunts in Huttese, and your eyes widen a bit. Bounty hunters. You should’ve known. You’re also surprised that Huttese is the language he chose, especially considering the two main languages on Mandalore were Mando’a and Basic. Luckily for him, you’ve always been a fan of learning different languages, and you understand basic Huttese. “It got away from us. It’s very dangerous. Have you seen it?”

You raise an eyebrow. “What does your bounty look like?”

The other hunter chimes in, this time in Basic. “It’s fifty years old but looks like a child. Some weird green frog-like thing with big ears. It’s incredibly dangerous, and you need to tell us right now if you’ve seen it.”

You manage to school your features, but internally, you’re shocked. Their bounty is the little green child you just patched up and is now sleeping in your back room? And he’s fifty? 

Something about the way the two hunters are acting strikes you as odd, and you make a split second decision. You lie. 

“I’ve not seen any creatures like that,” your voice is smooth and calm, betraying nothing. “But I’ve been in my shop all day. I’m sorry I can’t be of more help.”

For a moment, you think they don’t believe you, but the human quickly nods, grasping his fellow hunter’s arm and tugging him out of your shop. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, sagging a little as the door swung shut. 

You ducked back to the backroom, seeing your sister waiting with her arms crossed. 

“You wanna tell me why you just lied outright to two bounty hunters?” She hissed, eyes flashing. “Do you know how kriffing stupid that was?” 

You stared blankly at her. “Do you really think I’d lie to bounty hunters without a damn good reason?” Your voice was incredulous. “I’m not a di’kut, A’denla.”

She huffed, crossing her arms. “Alright, what’s the reason then?” 

You sighed, slumping against one of the tables. “They said their bounty is fifty years old, but the little one who came into our shop? He’s a baby A’denla. He may be fifty, but it’s clear he doesn’t age the same as us! What could a baby do to warrant a bounty? He was hurt, and he was hurt badly. He was sobbing and shaking and it’s clear he was terrified. I wasn’t about to hand him over to the bounty hunters who probably hurt him that bad in the first place!”

A’denla looks shocked at your little outburst, before softening slightly. She’s got a soft spot for little kids too, and you know she wouldn’t be okay with handing a child over to bounty hunters. 

“Fine, but if this brings hell down on us, I’m telling buir it was your fault, okay?”

You rolled your eyes, grabbed a basket of products, and went back out front to restock the shelves.

***

The little one had slept for a couple of hours, but now he was wide awake, and demanding your attention. You’d done your best to keep him occupied out of sight in case the bounty hunters came back, but so far, the coast had been clear. 

The door suddenly burst open, and Vyshena rushed inside. She owned a shop a couple doors down that sold mechanical parts, so she was a regular, often needing basic medical supplies to patch herself up after being a little too careless with a socket wrench.

“What do you need to–” You started, only to be cut off as Vyshena practically flung herself onto the counter, her grease stained fingers gripping the wood lightly.

“Did you hear?!”

You almost winced at the squeal, and you felt little claws dig into your legs. You looked down, to see the child grasping your leg, his ears drooping as he looked up at you with sorrowful eyes.

“Did I hear what, Vys?”

You bent down to pick up the little one, smoothing one hand over his ear as Vys started in on a rant.

“The King is coming! Apparently his kid went missing and he’s tracking him down! Y’know, he used to be a bounty hunter, so it only makes sense that he’d track his own kid down, apparently there’s a bounty from the Empire on the little guy and–”

You looked up as Vys suddenly stopped, and your brow furrowed as she made a choking sound, her eyes wide as saucers as she stared at you.

“And what, Vys?”

Instead of answering, her arm raised shakily, pointing at the little bundle you held on your hip. Her mouth was gaping, and she looked like she was about to pass out.

“Vys, are you alright?”

Her eyes flickered between your face and the kid multiple times before she sucked in a gasp. “WHAT?”

You actually flinched back at her sudden shout, and the kid whimpered, burying his face in your side.

“Vys!”

“I’m sorry, but how do you– where did– HOW DID YOU GET THE KING’S KID??”

Your eyes widened. “I’m sorry, what?”

“YOU HEARD ME!”

“What is all this racket about– oh, hi Vys.” A’denla came out from the back, her hands full of bottled bacta salve. “What’s going on?”

Vys sputtered, and so you mumbled “Apparently this is the King’s son?” As you gesture to the giggling baby on your hip.

A’denla’s jaw dropped, and she nearly dropped the bacta salve. “Are you kidding me??”

You shook your head, feeling faint, and Vys started laughing hysterically, which got the little one going too. “Not helping,” you muttered, but you couldn’t help but smile at how happy the little one looked.

“Maker, what are we gonna do?”

Your sister’s moan was mostly drowned out by the giggling, but you frowned thoughtfully. “Vys, hold him please,” you said, handing her the still laughing child, even as your request caused her to audibly shut her mouth. You rummaged through the drawers behind the counter before you found a spare sheet of paper and a pen. A’denla tried to see what you were doing but you waved her off, writing as fast as you could.

“There,” you muttered, folding up the paper, handing it to Vys in exchange for the kid. “Take this to one of the guards. They should be able to get it to the King quickly enough. It states that his son is safe, and here in the apothecary. We’re gonna close early just as an added precaution.”

Vys nodded, and you turned to A’denla. “I also wrote what I could remember about the two bounty hunters who came in, they’re probably the ones who kidnapped the kid to begin with.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” your sister sighed. “Maker, am I glad you lied to them when they asked about the kiddo.”

“Me too.” You turned back to Vys. “Go, get that to a guard. I’ll wait here.”

Vys nodded shakily, still a little pale, but she dashed out of the shop. A’denla opened her mouth, but closed it again quickly.

“Go on, spit it out.”

She shook her head. “Buir is never gonna believe this.” You snickered, imaging your mother’s face when she found out that the King of Mandalore’s son had wandered into your apothecary.

“You should go home and tell her. I’d hate for her to hear about this from someone else.” A’denla looked worried, but you shook her off. “I’m closing the store anyways. It’s not like I won’t need your help.”

“If you’re sure?”

“Yes, go.”

After a little more persuading, A’denla finally left, leaving you and the little one alone in the shop. He was still perched on your hip, and for a moment, you stood in the middle of the store, mind racing.

“I can’t believe you’re actually the King’s son,” you muttered, looking down at the wide-eyed child. “Just my luck, huh?”

He cooed at you, playing with the fabric of your top. Your eyes fell to the gauze wrapped around his arm, and you sighed. “I guess we better check on that, buddy. Make sure you’re healing alright.”

Just like before, he was a good patient, not too squirmy as you carefully unwound the gauze. His bruise was healing nicely, and you carefully applied a little more bacta for good measure, re-wrapping his arm. Right as you were pinning it in place, a loud banging sounded from the front door.

You jumped, hand flying to your chest. Carefully picking the kid up, you made your way to the door, peering through the curtains, eyes widening as you realized just who was standing there.

Unlocking the door, you pulled it open, stepping to the side to let the odd looking group inside.

You recognized Fennec Shand, a notorious bounty hunter and partner to Boba Fett, who was also a part of the group. Both were known for their close kinship with the King. There was a woman you didn’t recognize, but judging by the small tattoo on her upper cheek, she had ties to the Republic.

Finally, clad in full beskar’gam, was the King. His beskar was unpainted, the silver gleaming in the low light of your shop. He had no shortage of weapons, his spear was strapped to his back, and a blaster and various vibroblades were strapped to his legs. But the most prominent was the Darksaber that hung from his belt.

Dropping into a curtsy, you bowed your head in respect, a quiet “my king,” leaving your lips. You’d heard stories about the King, about his strength and speed in battle, but especially from his time as a bounty hunter. He’d been one of, if not the best bounty hunter in the galaxy, before winning the Darksaber from Maul in a duel, granting him the right to the throne of Mandalore.

Some said he was cruel, terrifying and dangerous, not to mention volatile. You had no way of knowing. He wasn’t one for major public appearances, so knowledge on his true personality was reserved for those closest to him.

There was a tense silence for a moment when suddenly, the child on your hip reached his little arms out towards the King, babbling loudly. He had a large smile on his face and was wriggling desperately to get out of your grasp. 

The King took a step forward, his own hands stretching out towards his son. You carefully handed the child over, your bare hands brushing over the King’s leather gloves as you transferred the little one to his father’s arms. 

“Su’cuy, ad’ika.” 

The King’s voice was barely more than a whisper as he pressed his helmet against the little one’s brow, his hand pressing against the child’s back to hold him close. 

You fold your arms in front of you, absently noting the way that you already miss the comforting weight of the kid on your hip. You look away from the King and his son, not wanting to intrude on their reunion. 

The others seem a little uncomfortable, like you, and thankfully, the woman you don’t know breaks the awkward silence. 

“You said in your note that you had two bounty hunters come looking for him?”

You’re looking at the woman, so you don’t notice the way the King’s head whips in your direction, nor the way his hand falls to rest on the hilt of the Darksaber. 

“Mmhmm, a Rodian and a human.” You pause. “Actually, I’d almost forgotten, we had security cameras installed about a month ago, they should be on the holos.”

“Why bother with security cameras?” Fett cut in, and you were taken aback by the blatant suspicion in his voice. “This isn’t exactly a high crime area.”

You sighed. “We had a break in a couple months ago. Some di’kut took off with half our supply of bacta salve. We’re one of the only apothecaries on Mandalore licensed to make it, and unfortunately, that usually means we have a large stock, and the prices are pretty steep.” 

“You didn’t report it.”

You narrowed your eyes at the accusatory tone. “I figure if someone’s going to go to all that trouble just to steal bacta salve and not even touch the register or safe, they probably needed it. It’s diluted when it’s in a salve, so it can’t be sold on the black market, unlike pure bacta.” 

“What’s this?”

You started at the King’s voice, turning to look in his direction, seeing him inspecting the gauze wrapped around the little one’s arm. You frowned. “The little one had a pretty bad bruise, it was nearly black. I applied some bacta salve and wrapped it. I checked it just before you got here, it looks a lot better.”

“And I suppose you just thought it was okay to–”

“Fett.”

Your eyes widened at the King’s tone, looking away as the green-armoured bounty hunter grumbled, but stayed silent. 

“I’m a licensed medic, and I have been for close to ten years now. I know what I’m doing.” Perhaps your voice was a little defensive, but you weren’t going to apologize for easing the kid’s pain, no matter the opinion of grumpy men in beskar. 

“Thank you.”

You nodded at the King, eyes flicking up to his helmet before looking away, your cheeks growing warm. You weren’t sure what it was about him, but something about the way he seemed to stare directly into your soul, even through the beskar made you feel... odd.

He handed the little one to the woman with the tattoo, before turning back to you. “May I see the holos?”

You nodded again, turning and walking towards the back of the shop, where the holos were stored. It wasn’t a large room, an old refurbished closet really, and it was a bit tight for one person, let alone a second covered in beskar. You opened up the data station and pulled up the holos from earlier, trying to ignore the silent mountain of a man behind you. You could feel his eyes on your back, and you tried to suppress the shiver that ran down your spine. 

You found the correct timestamp, and enlarged the holovid, pointing to the figures on the screen. “This is when they entered.”

Suddenly, there was a large warm hand on the small of your back as the King stepped up behind you, his other hand coming down to rest on the surface of the table, caging you in as he leaned forward. He was peering over your shoulder, and you inadvertently sucked in a breath at the sudden closeness. 

The two of you watched the footage in silence. Unfortunately, you didn’t have audio to go with the holos, so all the King would have to go off of is the visual. 

“Is there anything distinctive about them that you can remember?” He murmured, the rasp of his helmet’s modulator doing nothing to hide the exquisite way his voice sounded in your ear. 

“Um–” You trailed off, trying to focus, which was especially hard with the King so kriffing close. “Uh, the Rodian? He spoke Huttese.” You could’ve smacked yourself. Of course the Rodian spoke Huttese, it was a common language bounty hunters learned, and Rodian’s were known for speaking it along with their native Rodese. 

The King let out a sigh, and just as you were about to apologize, he thanked you. 

“That– that helps. Thank you, very much.” His hand pressed a little more into your back, and you fought the urge to arch into his touch. You weren’t some child with a crush damn it, you were a village shopkeeper and he was your king. It would be entirely inappropriate, although your traitorous mind was quick to remind you that his touching you could be considered inappropriate as well. 

You told your mind to shut the hell up. 

“You’re welcome, my king.” 

There, that was a perfectly respectable answer. Now all you had to do was avoid embarrassing yourself any further, and–

“Please, darling. Call me Din.”

Well, there went that plan. 

You bit your lip and looked down at the keyboard, hoping that the King–Din, didn’t see your hands tighten at the sound of his voice when he called you darling. 

“Can you give me a copy of these holovids?” 

You nodded, grateful for something, anything to distract you from the peculiar man at your back. Copying the holos onto a drive unfortunately didn’t take very long, and when you turned to hand them to the Ki–Din, your eyes widened when you realized just how close he was to you. Your chests were practically touching, and you had to tilt your head up to be able to look at his helmet, which was aimed directly at you. 

He carefully took the drive, tucking it into one of the pockets on his belt, before stepping back, crossing one arm over his chest and bowing. To you. 

“You’ve done me a great service. I won’t forget it.” 

You swallowed harshly. For a moment, it had sounded like he’d said “I won’t forget you,” although it had to be wishful thinking on your part. He was your King, you were so far removed from royalty it wasn’t even funny. He was just being polite. 

“I’m just glad you were able to reunite with your son. He seems to love you a lot.”

“His name is Grogu. I was blessed with him as my foundling, and I treasure him greatly.”

You smiled. It was clear as day how much the King loved his son, and how the little one returned those feelings tenfold. To be blessed with a foundling was a great honor, and it didn’t surprise you one bit that your King had been blessed in such a way. 

He stepped back to make space for you to leave the small room, and you hurried to where the others were undoubtedly waiting, only just now realizing how long the two of you had been gone.

Fett and Shand were gone by the time you got back to the main floor of your shop. Just the woman and the little one–Grogu–stood their waiting. The King easily plucked Grogu from the woman’s grasp, and with a tight nod, she left your shop as well, leaving you alone with the King and his son. 

He turned back to you, his helmet once more trained on your face. “I must thank you again, for everything.”

You felt your cheeks grow warm at the gratitude dripping from his words. “It was nothing, my king,” you murmured, curtsying once more. 

As you slowly straightened back up, the King reached out and ever so gently lifted your chin, the leather of his glove pressing into your skin. You were forced to look at him, even as the fluttering in your stomach renewed with vigour.

“I’ve already told you, darling. Call me Din.” 

Permanent Tags: @theocatkov, @cosmicbug379, @marydjarin, @perropascal, @mxndoscyarika, @hayley-the-comet, @phoenixhalliwell, @ahopelessromanticwritersworld, @pedroepascal, @roxypeanut, @rynadjarin-reading, @anerdydragon, @justanotherblonde23, @rosiefridayrogersunday, @littlevodika, @sunsetmando, @bucketbunny

Din Djarin Tags:  @pedrhoepascal, @rynadjarin-reading, @emzd34, @anerdydragon, @bigthicklongschlong, @baby-gurl-jazzy, @fantasticwizardnerd, @bucketbunny

Story Tags: @all-hallows-evie​, @houseofthirst​

If you’d like to be tagged in any of my works, please fill out this quick survey, or shoot me a message!!

[angelsdevils]

Little! Aomine x Older! Sister Reader

Title: Don’t Forget Me Fluff No Warning: Just cuteness overload

“Daiki, you have to let go.”

“NO!”

“Daiki!”

“NO!!”

“Mom, dad can’t you guys do anything?” 

“NO!”

“Daiki, (Y/N) has to leave for university.”

“NO I don’t want her too!” 

“Why not?” 

“You will forget about me!” He began to tear up and you covered your mouth.

“Oh my little gummy bear. I would never forget about you. How can I? I have the worlds cutest little brother.” You said as he was tearing up and sobbed slightly. You opened your arms, and he ran into them, hugging you tightly.

“Promise?”

“I promise, in fact here.” You gave him your basketball and he held it in his very tiny hands.

“Whenever you play basketball, I will be right there with you. You won’t see me, but I will be the sun rays shining down, the wind that ruffles your hair. Okay?” He continued to sniffle and nodded his head.

“I will be the best basketball player ever! So you can always be with me. I will be just like you! King of the court, and you will be the queen.” 

“Uh oh, looks like everyone better beware of the Aomine siblings.” Your father said causing you to laugh and ruffle his hair. 

“I love you mom, dad, gummy bear. I will call often and visit when I can. Gummy bear, you got to be a big boy and not cry when I leave okay?”

“O-Okay…” He sniffled trying not to cry, as you left to get on the plane. When it took off he couldn’t help it, and began to cry his eyes out.

~time skip~

That was six years ago, and you were finally done with university. You got off the plane, you weren’t expecting your family to come pick you up because they had work. Plus, your arrival was a surprise for them and your little gummy bear. You smiled remembering standing in this very airport leaving, and he was balling his eyes out. 

“I wonder if he actually became any good.” You hummed to yourself, you glanced at a poster on the wall and saw there was a basketball finals today. That’s when you saw a familiar name Aomine Daiki.

“So the cry baby is known as a former generation of miracles? I could still kick his ass anytime of day.” You mumbled to yourself deciding to head straight there. You had made it just in time to see the game start.

“Phew almost missed it.” You were panting and sat down in an empty seat. A guy with short black hair stared at you confused but ignored you.

“Whoa she is seriously cute.” Pop…. you heard him pop his gum and you rolled your eyes.

“Do you have a boyfriend.”

“Nope.”

“Be m~”

“I am 24 years old. You are my brother’s age please back off disrespectfully.” Was all you said and several of them had snickered. The game started and you were impressed, though you realized he wasn’t the same kid you knew. 

“Tsk this idiot, the hell is he talking about ‘Only person that can beat me is me.’ I may have to crush him after this game.” You mumbled and leaned against your hand and crossed your leg over the other. You could feel other people’s eyes on you.

“Doesn’t she look familiar?”

“Yeah, like that female basketball player from six years ago. Uh what is her name whom she looks like.”

“Are you talking the queen of the courts?”

“Yeah her.”

“(Y/N)?”

“Aomine (Y/N), nice to meet you now please watch the game, I am not the one playing.” You said and they quickly turned their heads to focus the game. 

The game ended and Aomine’s team had won. You stood up and walked to where their locker room was. 

“Hi…”

“(Y/N)?”

“Oh Momoi, look at you. You look amazing.” You gave her hug and she hugged back. The team was confused and she smiled. 

“I didn’t know you were back.”

“Yeah, I wanted to surprise my little gummy bear, who is no longer little but he is still little.” You both laughed.

“Well good luck finding him he disappeared after the game.

“Fucking Daiki, I am going to kick his ass.” You growled around the same time another guy said that he was going to beat the crap out of him. You both stared at each other and you looked him up and down. 

“Anyway, do you have an idea where he could be?”

“Yeah, he went outside.”

“Okay, uh who is the captain.”

“I am Imayoshi.”

“Okay well he isn’t coming back tonight. Bye.”

“Wait why?”

“Uh because I said so. Don’t question your elders boy.” You said and left and Imayoshi glanced at Momoi confused.

“That is Dai~chans older sister who is 24 years old. Aomine (Y/N), queen of the court to this day.” 

“Ahh, does she say the same thing as Aomine?”

“No, she believes in team work, and what not.” 

“Ahh…”

You looked around for your younger brother before seeing him walking ahead. You jogged up to him, and jumped on his back.

“Who the hell~”

“Hey gummy bear…” 

“(Y/N)?”

“That is me,” you jumped off and he turned around hugging you.

“What are you doing here?”

“I finished school and I am here to stay.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, looks like my little gummy bear is no longer little.”

“Please don’t call me that.”

“Too bad, its your nickname, and I am older.”

“Tsk.” Despite him looking angrily, he had a small smile on his face.

“By the way, what do you mean only person that can beat you is you? Wanna test that theory?” 

“Against you? I will end you.”

“Pfft. Should I give you a handicap since you just had a game?”

“Don’t need one, though we both know I will win.”

“Big talk, for someone who can’t even claim the king of the court.” 

“Okay first off…” 

“Ah ah put your moves where your mouth is honey.” You took the basketball out of your bag and went to the basketball court. Neither one of you realized his team was watching. 

After about a hour of playing Aomine ended up admitting defeat, the score gap was just getting larger, and he knew you were giving him a handicap.

“You win, you win. How can you still be so good?”

“Did you think I just stopped playing after high school? Nah basketball is my passion you know this…”

“Yeah, yeah, you probably claimed the title Queen of the court in America…”

“Yep, even have some cute minions that learned under me and Alex.”

“Did you just call me and Himuro minions?” You turned to see Kagami.

“Yes I did… what are you doing here?”

“Well we heard a basketball match going on here. What are you doing here (Y/N)?”

“Finished school, so came back home. Where is Tatsuya?”

“I think he went home… wait you are related to Aomine?”

“Yes sir, I am. His older sister. My cute adorable gummy bear.”

“Don’t call me that…” His team mates started to snicker and Kagami smirked.

“Gummy Bear?”

“Shut up I rather be a gummy bear than a minion.” Your little brother had a blush on his cheeks and you laughed softly.

“(Y/N), you should help train them. It would be great for them and you.” 

“I should but shouldn’t…”

“Why did something happen?” Your brother asked and you shrugged your shoulders. 

“I actually broke the rules, I am not really suppose to be playing until I fully recovered. I recovered just not fully.”

“What happened?” Kagami asked this time.

“Remember when I was trying to skateboard and completely and utterly failed?”

“Ye~ wait don’t tell me….”

“I fractured a bone in my leg…”

“You have to take a break from Basketball because of a non basketball related injury? What the fuck sis?”

“Yeah, yeah. Anyway, lets go home. I haven’t been home yet, I came straight here to see you.”

“Tsk, idiot.” You glared at him and grinned when he turned his back. You pulled him down and gave him sister torture kisses to embarrass him further.

“Stop that! Gross! (Y/N) stop!” 

“Who is the idiot?”

“I am sorry, just stop…” You stopped and he wiped his face disgusted.

“I always hated when you did that.”

“Liar, you enjoyed it when you were younger. Even cried when I went off for school in America.” He turned his head, wanting to dig a hole for himself.

“Shut up.”

“See ya, it was good to see you Taiga!” You wrapped your arm around his shoulders with a smile. 

“I am glad you didn’t forget me…” he trailed off quietly and looked away with a small blush.

“As I said that day, I could never forget you.” You flashed him a smile which he returned.  

[kaypeace21]

Will’s fear of clowns

*Ps -not mine. this is a submission from an anon. tw: for s.a. It’s an interesting submission. ANON-please make a tumblr account already . I’m begging you XD

Hi! It’s me, Lonnie Meth Anon. Back with more depressing thoughts about Lonnie!

I just read your post on Jonathan’s ab*se at the hands of Lonnie, and I second it all. It breaks my heart. But it also got me thinking deeper about Will’s fear of clowns. I think you’re right that part of the horror for Will is that the clown attacks in bed. The bed is, obviously, like you say, a common site for s*xual assault. (Doesn’t El’s picture of “three legged Brenner” also have a bed in it? In a picture with not much else?) The fact that Will needed Joyce to sleep with him for a week suggests he was specifically feeling unsafe in bed, or at night. 

But maybe it’s not just the location of the attack in Poltergeist that Will found so harrowing. Maybe it’s the combination of that location with the fact of a clown being the attacker. 

I think Lonnie might have dressed up as a clown for Will’s birthday one year, and something happened. 

In this instance, I don’t think Joyce would know what happened. I think the incident in her mind would be something like “Lonnie dressed up and Will was scared of the costume”. She might even have thought it was cute. Just a typical little kid fear of something mundane. When she teases him about Poltergeist, she doesn’t actually say the movie was the START of his fear of clowns. Just that he was afraid of that particular clown. The general fear of clowns could have been an older one, going back to when Will was even younger.

Maybe Will even liked clowns, before whatever happened with Lonnie turned them into a source of fear for him. Will has a lion plushie (lions are commonly found in the circus) and the circus seems like the kind of vibrant, colorful environment full of outcast, that a young gay kid would really enjoy. If Will did like circuses and Lonnie poisoned that for him, that’s just another reason to hate Lonnie. But it definitely seems possible. 

Lonnie is a deadbeat dad in general, but we’ve seen before that he’s capable of faking the “family man” act in front of Joyce and their neighbors. We’ve also seen that even though he treats Will horribly, he would also try and keep Will on his side with father son bonding activities, like baseball. And Will’s birthday is one of the few occasions Lonnie makes a half-assed kind of effort, even when there’s nothing directly in it for him. He sends that card, even though it’s late. Maybe Joyce made called him up and made him send it, but she always seemed happy to keep Lonnie out of the picture. She didn’t even want to involve him when Will went missing. And we know Jonathan would never try and facilitate more interactions between Lonnie and Will. So it seems like Lonnie did this of his own accord, when he realized he’d missed the day. Kind of weird. And it’s classic abuser behavior, to make contact on an anniversary date, reminding you they exist and you can’t escape them. Reminding you to keep quiet. Or hoping you’ll miss them, remember the “good times” when they made an effort, and let them back into your life. (Ugh.)

So, anyway, back to my theory. Young Will likes circuses, and the Byers family are poor, so they can’t afford to take him to one, or throw him a party at an ice cream parlor or a bowling alley, like other kids. It makes sense that they would have a party at home instead, and that the family themselves might dress up. We know Joyce made Will’s Ghostbusters costume in season two, and a clown is a pretty easy costume. Most of it is just make up. It’s possible the whole thing was Joyce’s idea, and she made the costume, and Lonnie just went along with it to look like a good dad in her eyes. 

Remember how we see Bob (Will’s new father figure) dressing up in costume for Halloween? Joyce loves it. This is a thing good dads do, to have fun with their kids. That’s also the same episode we see Will scared by a guy in a clown costume, and Jonathan is hyper-protective of him that night. School is okay, but he doesn’t want him trick or treating. (Like he knows that school is a safe environment, but in other contexts, costumes and parties might be a trigger for Will.) Jonathan is convinced to leave Will and “let him have fun” and what happens? The clown attacks. Later that night Jonathan goes to a costume party himself, where he finds Nancy upset and takes her safely home.  Maybe this is how Will’s birthday party ended - with Jonathan finding Will upset, and trying to comfort him. The whole night could be playing out like a parallel to that birthday party, from Jonathan’s perspective. 

What actually happened with Will and Lonnie is up for debate. It’s possible there was a s*xual assault, and that’s why the clown scene in Poltergeist was such a trigger for Will. Or maybe Lonnie thought circuses weren’t “manly” enough for his son to like, and actively tried to scare Will, so he wouldn’t like them anymore. It’s hard to know. Something would have happened though, and probably something pretty formative, because the fear of clowns lasts a long time. 

Something else interesting is that when Mr Clarke is talking about the Upside Down in season one, he uses the metaphor of the flea and the acrobat. Acrobats are a main act in the circus, and, well … fleas. Flea circuses. That’s a thing. Maybe it’s a hint that the trauma that created the Upside Down was circus / clown - related?

Kali, El, and their gang wear clown masks too, when they’re going to confront their childhood trauma, and the child-like Alexei is surrounded by clowns when he is killed at the fair. 

Clowns are just so associated with birthday parties and little kids, that it doesn’t seem like a coincidence to me they’re Will’s biggest fear. Especially as the show keeps dropping hints about Lonnie and Will’s birthday. It feels like there’s more to the story. I have a horrible feeling SOMETHING happened. 

RESPONE (kaypeace):

I think it’s very possible-that maybe he did dress as a clown for Will’s birthday and something happened. We have alexi (paralleled to Will) playing carnival games with kids. Then he's attacked by the Lonnie-look alike : and alexi looks at his wound then stares at all the clowns laughing around him. Joyce and Murray find Alexi bleeding/dy*ng next to a clown statue. As joyce looks in horror and Murray says to her, he was “only gone for a second” (which sounds like something you’d say in relation to a kid you were supposed to watch-running off ). We also had sarah at age 7 die while wearing a gown with clowns on it (Will: it was a 7 the demogorgan it got me). Death of innocence symbolism? Hopper also describes his depression as a cave- he goes through the carnival ride where it mentions a "cave of horrors", which had decor of a tiger and a clown painting. So yeah... whatever happened probably isn't good. So- there may be some symbolism there in relation to Will’s past. Not only because (like I and you have mentioned before) Lonnie is highly associated with birthdays. And canonically we know he mentally scarred jonathan on his b-day. But also, s4’s ‘victor creel’ may be an easteregg to the xmen character victor creed- who had a tradition of tra*matizing family members specifically on their bdays

As another alternative:I could also totally see Lonnie “ruining” circuses for Will because it’s not “manly” to him. Like how Jonathan liked thumper the rabbit-from the film bambi. in the film, Thumper is bambi’s bff, and the hunters are the bad guys who k*ll Bambi’s mother and terrorize all the wildlife. SO yeah- making Jonathan become a hunter, and k*ll a rabbit ,despite this fact, is really messed up. And shows Lonnie has already tried to ‘ruin’ things the boys like. By mentally scarring them in one way or another…

I also mentioned how Will’s bday could even be a trigger for jonathan in a diff post.

if the s4 bts calender hinting it’ll be near Will’s bday and easter it could be relevant to Jonathan.we know in s1 el has tra*matic flashbacks when seeing certain things- coke, closet, cat, etc. And Will in s2 has his ‘anniversary effect’ where memories flood back based on the time of year.But like … Easter has bunnies - could seeing rabbits jog stuff up for Jonathan? El seeing a cat made her have a flashback of brenner trying to make her kill a cat. Would Jonathan seeing like Easter bunny decor jog up a flashback of lonnie making him kill a rabbit? (It happened on his bday too). So Will’s b day being around easter would only fuel that memory. (heck even popped balloons may trigger gunshot symbolism idk). And then for Will there is clowns that could be a tr*gger at a party.

The flea and the acrobat analogy (in relation to Will and circuses is very interesting) and could be foreshadowing- it’s even a title for an episode so I feel like it’s narratively an important hint to …something. similar to a s1 ep being called “the bathtub”.  Also, Will was compared to a circus flea- which were placed in an enclosed space, where heat was applied as they jumped  and tried to escape the increasing temperatures as they burned .Which could relate to my theory about Will having a se*zure due his body overheating due to Lonnie injecting him with m*th.

 If Will’s bday is in s4- I feel like Lonnie will come back in some capacity (flashback or literally). The ‘sorry, I forgot you b day’ card from Lonnie in s2, in Lonnie’s shed Joyce mentioning Will’s b day, the rainbow ‘happy birthday cup’ placed next to Will at Mike’s -while Will explains the supernatural, Lonnie already tra*matizing Jonathan on his bday, etc…

[protgo]

{ cis man, he/him } ❝ my heart that’s more human than i, more exact than life. ❞ huh, who’s CHARLIE ROWE? no, you’re mistaken, that’s actually ALBUS POTTER. he is a 23 year old HALF-BLOOD wizard who is an AUROR. he is a SLYTHERIN alum and the child of HARRY POTTER and GINNY WEASLEY. he is known for being ALOOF, RELENTLESS, SARCASTIC, DEFENSIVE, and DISTRUSTING but also AMBITIOUS, LOYAL, CARING, FORGIVING, and COMPASSIONATE, so that must be why he always reminds me of the song BRAVADO BY LORDE and A COLLECTION OF MUGS WITH ONLY THE LAST BIT OF COFFEE REMAINING; THE SHARP DIFFERENCE BETWEEN PURITY AND GOODNESS; RELIABLE RESCUE FROM SOMEONE THAT SWORE THEY WOULDN’T HESITATE TO LEAVE YOU BEHIND; A WATCHFUL EYE LINGERING AT THE SIDELINES; A SURPRISINGLY WARM HUG. i hear he is aligned with the ORDER OF THE PHOENIX, so be sure to keep an eye on him.

BASICS

name:  albus s. potter

nickname: goes by al almost exclusively

age: twenty-three

sexual / romantic orientation: homosexual homoromantic

former house: slytherin

affiliation: auror department, potter-weasley family, order of the phoenix

occupation: auror

family: lily luna potter (sister, younger), james sirius potter (brother, older), ginny weasley (mother), harry potter (father) + a truly incredible amount of cousins, uncles, etc.

PHYSICAL

hair: brown

eyes: hazel

height: 5′10

notable characteristics: he doesn’t quite possess usual weasley levels of freckles but there are enough to be noticed, poor vision therefore always wearing glasses

PERSONALITY

al is very much a healthy mix of both his parents! he isn’t boisterous or particularly loud, but he is incredibly determined and relentless in the pursuit of what he’s decided he wants. growing up with the last name he did came with a lot, both the good and the bad, and al adjusted to it as best he could. he found it hard to really let people in growing up as he always doubted whether it was about him or about either of his parents, really, and wasn’t interested in being a keyhole view into the lives of either of them. he’s polite, for the most part, but more on the quiet and private side of things to most.

being close to him, on the other hand, is a different and funny thing. he’s tetchy, and finnicky, and you get an honest view of him if nothing else. the version most people get may be easier to deal with than the truth, but there’s also less heart. al’s very loving, intensely reliable, steady, and solid. he’s fiercely opinionated and sharp, a whopping total of maybe three people have ever been able to change his mind once he’s made a decision. his humor may be a bit on the dryer side, but it’s definitely there.

he is ... protective. of his family, of himself, of his heart. he really doesn’t let a lot of people truly in and it’s always been good that he has a huge family, so there’s a big package deal of people there, but outside of that he’s always been more of a few close friends than large group type of person. he’s also very trustworthy! no one has ever managed to pry a secret out of him nor will they ever! he really wears his feelings on his face, in terms of being surprisingly expressive as long as he’s not on the job.

HEADCANONS / BIO

his patronus is a wolf, his wand is s 12½ inches, made of holly with dragon heartstring core, and unbending flexibility

al is a sweet boy!! however, he has issues forming close relationships at times (platonic or romantic) because of a lot of worry surrounding his name and the weight being a potter holds in the wizarding world and his inability to ever really know someone’s intentions. he has a marshmallow heart and it’s easier to protect it than to heal it.

magic did not come easy to him!! he comes from two very powerful bloodlines, but it was just … harder for him to control and pick up. he’s a very skilled wizard in later adolescence and adulthood only because he would’ve dropped off the face of the planet before being the potter kid that couldn’t do magic right. as such, he practiced all the time when he was younger, and practice makes perfect.

al also has some issues accepting help. not in small mundane things, but on larger scales he’s very testy about anyone suggesting he can’t do something or that he’s weak, in any way. he feels like he has spent … a lot of time proving himself! too much to not be taken seriously!

the pressure al feels in his life is not …. at all from his parents. the most pressure he feels from them is to be a good brother, but that’s not in a bad way !! it’s in a you’re all family and family takes care of each other way! it’s the rest of the world’s expectations that he feels a lot, and that’s not anyone’s fault!

al is gay!! he’s not new in town!! he holds a lot of fear that people only like him because of the family he comes from!! he’s sort of known for a while, but when he really formally came to terms with it he was fourteen and it was difficult because keeping quiet about it to his family, specifically, was a bad feeling. the thought of making an announcement also made him want to puke. ultimately, he tells his brother and sister first. he tells his parents next. everyone else just had to find out on their own. 

up until al was about fifteen he felt very .. directionless, by way of career and his life after hogwarts. he didn’t know if he was really built for anything, or what would make him happy, but he wanted to do something that felt meaningful and challenging and worthy of respect, which is how he settled on auror. i do kind of believe most people that knew him thought it was a fleeting idea he’d move on from, because he really is ... disposition wise, a lot softer than i think the typical ideal-auror is. al is very stubborn, though. he’s always felt like he had something to prove, and he was never willing to fail. he made up his mind and now however many years later, he is in fact quite good at what he does!

al does not like quidditch. in terms of skill he’s really fine at it he’s just never been a fan, he didn’t have a particularly high amount of school spirit for it when he was younger either. he will participant in family games because he’s a good sport, but otherwise he doesn’t play. 

i think al understands the well intention behind it, but he really doesn’t like when anyone he doesn’t know well mentions his dad to him. condolences, apologies, pity looks, they all really grind his gears. he doesn’t like to talk about his grief, either, but he’s big on family. al’s never felt unloved in his home, he’s never had any unreasonable issue with his family, he misses harry in a strong way he doesn’t know how to word, so he just ... doesn’t.

[kendrixtermina]

Appreciating the Range of Type 6, or, one stereotypical example, and three that aren’t.

I want to tell you about some type 6 ppl that I know in my personal life.

Exemplar #1: F. B.

Complete Stats

Wing: 5 p or cp: largely phobic – lots of safety worries, outright authoritarian follower personality Instinct: sp/soc Trifix: 613  - 6w5 1w2 3w2 (“The Taskmaster” or “The Middle Manager”) jungian: ISTJ / SLI-Te oldham: Conscientious & Aggressive Essence Type: Mars Temperament: Pure Choleric

What he’s like:

Not pleasant.

Every “strict conservative middle aged guy” stereotype in the book. Control freak, makes a mountain out of every molehill, sees the world as full of axe murderers, judgemental as fuck, horrible temper and yet completely impersonable, all his opinions are copypasted from right-wing news sites. When they say war is good he’s for war, and when they say war is bad he’ll be like “At least Trump did not start any more wars” without perceiving a contradiction. Despite this, he believes is very hot, principled and funny. He is none of these things. He puts people down nonstop. My knowledge of neurochemistry tells me that he must have emotions somewhere or he couldn’t function, but I ain’t ever seen a single one of those emotions. They’re all for his job and a few trusted mentor figures. And his mom. At least he loved her.

If you say anything he doesn’t like, he “throws the sofa out the window” as his wife once put it.

How he’s a Type 6:

Well, he’s pretty much every negative stereotype in a nutshell… other than distrusting his partner. But that might be cause hes sx blind, or cause the wife is big on monogamy & wouldn’t ever cheat.

The one positive trait of 6 that he has is that he does his research. Before moving anywhere he googles the crime rates and if you need a doctor he might find you the best one. But even that can be overriden by ideology (hydroxychloroquine!). And if you don’t take his exact advice, there goes the sofa out the window again…

And I guess the work ethic from all 3 parts of the trifix really comes through – he hasn’t had a single bad grade in his life and always keeps collecting new certifications, and will make sure you hear about it...

Exemplar #2: I.

Complete Stats

Wing: 5 P or cp: pretty much an even mix of phobic and counterphobic Instinct: sp/soc Trifix: 614 - 6w5 1w2 4w3 (Would prolly call herself “The Big Pain” rather than “The Philosopher” ^^°) jungian: INTJ / ILI-Ni oldham: Serious & Conscientious Essence Type: Saturn Temperament: Chlor-Mel

What she’s like:

I’d describe her as serious, mature, discerning, focused and passionate about her friendships, if perhaps somewhat forceful at times, with a dry, sarcastic sense of humor.

Comes across like someone who knows what she’s talking about, with well-articulated points.

Often the Responsible Sibling, Designated Sanity Checker or Bullshit Detector.

Prefers to plan everything in advance in typical Ni dom fashion, even amusement part trips. Gets somewhat anxious without a future plan or shedule.

Often mistaken for a whole lot more sociable and confident that she really feels inside. (even I kinda bought it and got her whole darn trifix wrong on my first typing attempt, though that was when I was new to typology) She can act the boss act temporarily to get the situation over with, but she actually hates making decisions.

She does however have the occasional cute/pure moment where that lower function block comes out.

How she’s a Type 6:

She has saved our family from many a terrible restaurant by making sure to check the reviews. The preparing for all possible dangers is very 6, the acting tough outwardly when youre inwardly anxious, the intellectual problem solving & some tendency towards organization/responsibility/ “logistic” intelligence.

One online test she took gave her 5w6 instead of 6w5 but that’s probably just the ITxx-ness leaking in. I remember this one time we were discussing this artsy-fartsy theater play to which we’d had fascinatingly different reactions, and at one point I half-jokingly said something like “But does anyone ever really feel connected to others, or is that a myth?” to which she wrote, “[Name], what the fuck? Yes I do.” and then immediately deleted it. That’s more of a 6 reaction innit?

Nonetheless the wing does feature in significantly – for example she got very well informed about a lot of topics because she researched them to assuage a random survival-related fear, like, “How to make sure I have enough retirement money”

Exemplar #3: M.

Complete Stats

Wing: 7 p or cp: largely phobic Instinct: sp/sx Trifix: 692 - 6w7 9w1 2w1 (Fortunately very much a “Good Samaritan” rather than “The Stockholm”) jungian: ISFP / SEI-Fi oldham: Sensitive & Devoted Essence Type: Lunar-Venus Temperament: Pure Supine

What she’s like:

Precious! Sweet, nice, good listener, friendly, gives all the best gifts. But also perceptive and good at understanding people, eg. mediating to the parents when one of the younger sisters is having An Emotion™ or winning the trust of problem children.

Unlike I. Who has some soc that helps her keep track of a larger circle of friends despite her introversion, M. tends to enjoy the closeness with her family and have just a few very close friends. Excellent friend material all around! The sx and Se also come out in enjoying art forms involving the body like theatre or dance.

She can be a bit shy, conflict-avoidant and occasionally a lil bit panicky though.

As a small kid she used to be super duper shy but then a wise english teacher encouraged her to play a big role in a play, and since then she’s a lot more confident and doesn’t let ppl push her around without limit, though she’s still a quiet, helpful person. There you see the difference that a good teacher can make.

How she’s a Type 6:

For one thing she moves and emotes faster than a core 9 would, and she fits the body language – big eyes that move around a lot, stands a bit lopsided, talks in a shrill voice on the rare occasions where we exhaust her patience etc. As a xSFx and a w7 she shows mostly the “warm, friendly, likeable” side of type 6. She also has a very 6-ish tendency to very frequently ask people’s opinions & feedback before making decisions. (the other fixes probably add to this)

Alas, she also has a little bit of of the fear/insecurity.

Also she has a social/care job which might be seen as 6-ish desire to serve the community.

Exemplar #4: J.

Complete Stats

Wing: 7 P or cp: largely counterphobic Instinct: sx/soc ?? definitely not sp first. Trifix: 638 - 6w7 3w4 8w9(?) (Shall she be a “Justice Fighter” or a “Kyle”? Only time will tell.) jungian: ISTP / LSI-Se ?? Oldham: ? some Dramatic & Serious, perhaps ? Essence Type: Definitely Mercury Temperament: San-Mel

What she’s like:

The first adjective that usually comes to my mind is ‘cool’. Sassy, energetic & a little bit tough, but also affectionate when she wants to be. (though in admiring way rather than a mushy one)

She says the coolest things, has a certain sly sort of cleverness, and an astonishly good poker face. Bit of an occasional prankster. Hilarious. Knows all sort of cool science facts. Avid gamer. 

Not especially popular or over the top sociable, but she gets sad if no one pays attention to her a while. Will act visibly moody where ppl can see sad or worried and can catastrophize a bit in such situations.

How she’s a Type 6:

I first though we might be getting an ExxP type 7 since she was a pretty energetic child, but once puberty hit and independent thought manifested, she turned out a whole lot too reactive and ‘edgy’ for this, and more on the ‘moderate introvert’ side of things.

Since then the sisterly dynamic has been like one fluffy golden dog and 3 hissing black cats. Hissing Cats #1 and #2 are very proud of her, but cat #1 was forced to conclude that she’s probably not a positive outlook type.

Out of all the reactive types 6 fits best because she does broadcast group identity (like wearing merchandise of her favorite media and wearing buttons in solidarity with ppl she likes.) & has a big case of Big Sibling worship for M, I, and someone else who isn’t on this list due to being a 9. (a 4 or 8 might like their older siblings but probably wouldn’t constantly stress the admiration.), but she can also show lasting, pouty displeasure with authority figures who have slighted her. (Like that one time I went too far in teasing her...)

I’m just assuming the 8 fix because that tends to make 6s more bold, louder & more shameless.

Basically she is the “punk teen” type of 6. She can be a bit dramatic & over-the top but still come to her family on advice (even advice on pranks!) in ways that xSTPs of other enneagrams prolly wouldn’t.

She also tends to use self-deprecating humor in tough situations and deflects compliments to present herself as ‘ordinary’.

...

This may sound like I’m really getting down on my first example (I won’t pretend that I’m not) but the point in bringing him up is that the reason he’s like this is: He was subject to really bad parenting that put a lot of fear into him, there was no good parenting to teach him broader coping strategies, he lived in a crappy environment that crushed his dreams, in a sense ‘confirming’ those fears and making him double down, resulting in a person who is just always rigidly following the same predictable pattern or jumping from one automatic reaction to the next with very little pausing and thinking. That goes for the other types too: A ‘stereotypical’ person is a desperate person ruled by fear, who cant stop or soften up even for an instant cause they constantly feel this fire of threat under their arse.

A lot of descriptions say that 6s ‘Follow authority’ but most would balk at the notion – ‘I do the research!’ they might argue ‘I don’t just trust anyone’ or ‘I’m actually a rebel’. There is of course such a thing as denial  that’s more like the extreme case.

But with a more average, functional 6 it’s not so much ‘obedience’ as that they just like to bounce their ideas off of others to get feedback, or that they feature in other’s viewpoints. So you might get someone who can naturally use feedback (something other ppl may have to learn first) or who is very considerate of others (which others might have to consciously remind themselves to do.)

Those are sometimes pretty good traits actually.

On the other hand this is probably part of what makes decisions hard cause they consider all these possible scenarios of how things might displease or cause harm to everyone involved.

Being able to naturally snap into Action Mode under stress looks a bit enviable from the outside, but I. assures me that it’s actually super stressful & exhausting, even for someone who doesn’t get to a point of just being unreasonably aggro at you.

Though even an extreme case like F.B. would probably claim that he ‘did the research’ even as he’s 1:1 quoting the Pope at you, and then saying that you ‘have to be respectful’ even if you don’t even believe in Christianity. Hence why you get a lot of authoritarians talking about “disrespect”. You didn’t “fail to obey”, you “disrespected the flag” or  “hurt the feelings of the Chinese people”. Because they’re still trying or inwardly thinking that they’re doing the consideritation & considering other’s PoV thing when they’ve long since crossed from respect and consideration into mindless obedience, all while still thinking that they’re very sceptical and discerning cause after all they really distrust the other political party or whatever.  

In a way you get this obsession with ‘mind control’ cause they’re not unaware of & very much looking to guard the blind spot. They’re adults trying to do adult things.

For example, if I voiced an opinion to F. B. which he didn’t like, his reaction was often to ask “who told you that”

That’s just how he seems to think opinions work, somebody tells them to you.

Makes one wonder how he thinks new opinions start.

Yeah - Nobody told me that. I concocted it myself in some corner of my head. And in the interest of objectivity, I should stress that you can also end talking out of your ass that way, if you’re not basing it on enough outside data. Making up new shit has more of a quadratic than a linear learning curve – at least with copying you get something semi-useful right away. In making up your own you might be really off a long time before you stumble on something useful.

Also, I was young at the time and it’s not wholly unreasobale to think that an inexperienced person might be duped. I reacted really badly in part cause he hit my own ego buttons cause I was of course proud of this epiphany that I had concocted by myself, and now he says (or so I perceived it, being sensitive to accusations of incompetence) that I’m too dumb to form an opinion, so of course I launched into full Obnoxious Reddit Dude Mode.

In I. It manifests more on a reasonable useful level like “Oh wait, should [young cousin] be on TikTok? I don’t want him to get sucked into some cultish BS.” which is at least something the parents should have on the radar/ warn him about even if they do let him use TikTok, because for all that it is vital for him to get his experience with independent socializing & experimentig with sel-presentation, people do sometimes get suckered into cults or goaded into unsafe tests of courage.

And in a sense… maybe they overamphasize it but to some extent they’re also simply consciously aware/ mindful of it. The rest of us are not immune to propaganda after all, solong as it’s presented in a way pleasing to our egos. Any type structure can become a ‘hook’ if you’re not careful.

[nochuvalencia]

𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭? - pjm

⚠️‼️This drabble is short AND LATE AND SLOPPY. So there may be mistakes or wtv. AND THE SMUT ISNT HOT STEAMY SEX LIKE USUAL, ITS SUPER AWKWARD‼️⚠️

𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 :: jimin x reader

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 :: When mending a broken friendship, the dark past always comes back to mind, no matter how much one wishes to forget it.

𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦 :: smut, angst

𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 :: 3.3k

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 :: THE STORY TAKES PLACE WHILE THE READER AND JIMIN ARE IN HIGH SCHOOL, car seggs, unprotected sex, creampie, reader doesn’t orgasm💀, jim finishes super fast, the smut isn’t really for the readers enjoyment because it plays into the plot, virgin!jimin, reader is SUCH a y/n, Jimin is whiny asf, super short bc drabble.

“Remember prom night?”

You stared surprised over at Jimin through the blonde fringe that covered his cute almond shaped eyes as he uttered the sentence you had least expected him to which sent your mind spiraling down the tornado of memories which swirled inside it. He mentioned it, the night you both had wordlessly agreed never to bring up, he actually did it. After three fucking years of moving past it, he tugged it up into the present to invade your mind again. You froze in your seated position on his couch, staring over at the slightly younger male who sat before you, your eyes wide with concern as you set the glass full of wine that was perched in your hand down onto the cream colored coffee table beside you. You and him, your best friend of seven long years, had been sitting comfortably on his sofa reminiscing about past memories over a freshly opened/almost finished bottle of merlot when he chose to do the unthinkable. He brought up the night he silently promised never to talk about again. The night you carelessly robbed him of his innocent pride and stomped on his fragile teenage heart. The night you basically used him then discarded the event like yesterday's paper. The night you finally stopped thinking about a year ago but he never forgot. You stammered, looking down into your lap on which your hands wiggled away nervously like worms. Your mind went blank in an instant, being filled with absolutely nothing but the memory of the night you regret with your conscience .

It was the 30th of May in 2015. Prom night for you and it was already an absolute shitshow. You were crying hysterically into your palms as you sat in the passenger's seat of Jimin’s old 2003 Ford explorer. A crumpled corsage sat in your lap as you wept, black and gold stained tears falling onto the expensive fabric draped over your legs, but you didn’t care. You were heartbroken. Jimin sat awkwardly in the seat beside you debating whether or not he should comfort you because it rarely worked out well for him but against his better judgement, he laid a small, warm hand on your shoulder comfortingly, his eyes widening in surprise when you didn’t immediately try to swing on him.

In high school, you weren’t really one for emotion which is why many questioned your friendship with Jimin because he wore his heart on his sleeve 24/7. No, scratch that, the boy wore his heart on his face like a bullseye. The two of you could not be more different, but you were absolutely inseparable. Everyone at school thought you were a couple but became completely alarmed when you wound up dating the school's hottest linebacker, Kim Namjoon in your Junior year. You remained with Namjoon for almost a year until the night of your senior prom when he dumped you during the slow dance right after he revealed he had been cheating on you with a college girl, which led you to your current predicament. Jimin hated to see you sad, it upset him more than anything in the world so he was already on the verge of tears at the mere sight of you crying, which you quickly noticed after you peered up to be met with his wide tear filled eyes.

“Jimin are you about to cry?” you croaked out, wiping your eyes with the backs of your arms and looking over at him. The corners of your lips twitched up as he nodded, wiping his own eyes with the sleeves of his navy blue tux and sniffling.

“Aw you’re so cute.” you sobbed out happily as more tears poured down your face although, these were happy tears. Laughter filled the small space of the car as he removed his hand from your shoulder, using it to rub his eye and conceal the blush forming on his plump cheeks which you had already noticed. It was no secret Jimin had the fattest crush on you. Everyone knew. He couldn’t hide the loving way he stared at you or the blush that spread on his face when you complimented, or the cute stutter he developed when you teased him. It was adorable and you could admit that he was very cute, but you couldn’t reciprocate any feelings for him. You liked to tell yourself it was because he was a Junior and you were a Senior and the age gap sorta threw you off, but that wasn’t the real reason. In all truth, you yourself didn’t even know the real reason why you couldn’t like him back. You just didn’t feel that way about him. However, you felt bad for leading him on and dragging him along in your never ending friendship but he wouldn’t go away, no matter how mean you were to him. Not that you wanted him to, but you hated to see him sad. Like when guys called you hot and you didn’t push them away, or when you kissed Namjoon in front of him and he was visibly upset, or when you said ‘just kidding’ after every flirty remark or comment shot at him, but he didn’t care. He really just loved basking in the warmth of your presence, and you made him feel less alone in a world of bigger, better kids. He felt secure around you and it was okay if you didn’t feel the same about him.

“I just hate seeing you so unhappy.” his words struck you where it hurt and you stared at him blankly, your mind running rampant with thoughts.

Jimin was the best, he did so much for you. He was the purest, kindest, most gentle soul you had ever met and even though you let him down constantly, he remained by your side and there you were, sitting by a boy who was crying just at the sight of your distress. You didn’t deserve him. You didn’t deserve his generosity, his affection, his friendship, but he gave it all to you anyway, expecting absolutely nothing in return. How did you ever become friends with such an amazing soul. He was an angel. He stared back at you after he finished wiping the tears from his soft porcelain face, his brows raising in confusion at your hypnotized expression as he muttered, “what?” a wide smile spreading on his face. He was so precious. He deserved everything he ever wanted. You wanted to give him the world, but you couldn’t, so you gave him the next best thing and leaned in.

Your lips melded together as his eyes shut, immediately relishing in the feeling of the thing he’d been craving the most for the past three years and it was just as he’d imagined it, absolute heaven. The kiss was a bit rushed if he’d admit but it was more than what he wanted. After a few moments, he opened his eyes softly, just quietly observing the smeared gold shadow on your closed eyelids and the relaxed look on your face. He was loving every moment of what you were giving him and he never wanted it to end, but it had to. It was too good to be true, especially for him. You were thanking him, thanking him for all the things he’s done for you. Thanking him for all his kindness and friendship and he never meant to make you feel like you owed him anything, and you were heartbroken. Your soul was a fresh wound and he knew this was a rebound, a way to fill the newly opened void in your soul which was everything he swore he wouldn’t be. At that moment, he reluctantly took hold of your face in his hands, pulling you back and staring into your watery eyes as he shook his head.

“No, ____, it’s okay you don’t owe me an-.” he started and you cut him off, smashing your lips frantically back onto his as he released a frustrated groan into your mouth. As he moved his hands down to your shoulders, successfully pushing you away once more and staring sternly at your desperate expression as he continued speaking, stammering a bit after the intensity of that last kiss. “Anything, you don’t owe me anything o-okay, and I- I don-” he ran a hand through his ruffled blonde hair with a sigh, stress obviously evident in his features before you placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Jimin, I want to.” you replied, your voice basically a whisper as you stared sincerely at his frazzled frame, a weary smile making its way onto your lips. He was at total war with himself while you squirmed tirelessly in the seat beside him, flinging your shoes off and reaching over to undo his belt. He stared down at your hands with wide eyes as he muttered cautionary phrases, as if trying to convince himself he didn’t want this, which he really did. Jimin was a virgin. The biggest fucking virgin you had ever seen, like he blushed at the sight of a hotdog once. He had fantasized about you taking his virginity, obviously not like this, but he was content with what he was getting, even if he was trying to convince himself that he was not. You dipped your hand into the waistband of his pants and freed his embarrassingly hard dick as he continued to stare at your actions, his breathing picking up in pace and his eyes still wide like saucers. You climbed over the seat as you pushed the poofy fabric of your gold dress to the side and mounted his lap, his member still in hand. He stared up at you wistfully as soft but audible groans fell from his lips, his eyes widening when you glided his tip up and down your accumulating warmth, completely coating it in your slippery juices. That’s when his panic set in. He wanted to make sure you weren’t doing anything you weren’t comfortable with even as you sat on top of his lap quite comfortably.

“____, you don’t owe me anything, I m- I mean if you really want to like I’m totally fine but don’t feel like you have to please I don’t want you to do something you’re not comf- f- fuck.” his voice trailed off as you sunk down on top of him and to your surprise, he whined, letting his forehead fall gently onto your left shoulder. You moaned softly as you sunk down onto him, feeling him stretch you out quite nicer than you’d expected while you snake an arm around his neck for support. All logical thoughts vacated Jimin’s head at that moment as you were wrapped around him, your warmth putting him in a trance he couldn’t quite explain as the two of you sat still, breathing heavily and warming up the small space of the, now warm, car. You decided to move your hips, gyrating them forward while he moaned into your neck, his hands traveling wearily to the small of your back as if scared to roam anywhere else in fear of ruining the friendship even further that the two of you already have. His eyes roll into the back of his head at the newfound euphoric feeling which is all too familiar to you as you are no virgin, quite the opposite actually. His salacious sounds of pleasure spur you on even more as you slowly gyrate your hips into his, your clit brushing his base with every movement but you don’t care whether you feel anything or not because this is for him, not for you, right? You heard his moaning increase in frequency, then you remembered he was a virgin and he couldn’t possibly last this long. His hips began to weakly press up into yours as his breathing became shaky and his head fell back onto the headrest behind him and you finally made eye contact. He was so pretty, his face shone with sweat, plush pillow lips parted, his skin glowed pink. And he made the most salacious, beautiful sounds you had ever heard. You loved how vocal he was.

“____, I- I’m gonna…” he trailed off as his words morphed into a symphony of moans while he stared deeply into your eyes.

“Jimin no, hold it baby. Please not yet.” You shook your head, convincing him to hold it off and slowing the motion of your hips just a bit as he continued thrusting up into you slowly, his hips pausing frequently while he began to tremble softly. He shook his head as his eyebrows furrowed and the pleasure began to completely overtake his body.

“I can’t.” he cried out as he let out a string of loud whines and moans, his orgasm overtaking him completely while his white ropes paint your insides repeatedly. You moan at the feeling and intensity of his orgasm before resting your head on his shoulder tiredly. After a few moments of relaxation, you dismount him, a bit disappointed you didn’t get to cum but happy you made him happy as you stare over at his exhausted frame. His eyes are shut, head tilted back, and lips parted as he breathes heavily through them and you think to yourself. ‘I just used this perfect angel for my own benefit. To rid myself of the shame of being such a sucky friend.’ You used a boy who loves you unconditionally, a boy who would do absolutely anything for you to alleviate your own insecurity. Shame fills every single one of your senses. The guilt runs rampant throughout your body as you sit in silence and stare down at your hands. You overthink more than the overthinker that you think overthinks the most as you fight back the urge to cry. You soiled him, took his innocence, and you didn’t even have the guts to love him back before you did it. It was then you decided, he deserved so much better than you. He deserved someone that was going to treat him like the angel he was. Not you.

For a moment, Jimin thinks things will be different. For a hot minute, he really believes with his entire heart that things will change for the better, that he’s going to open his eyes and you would profess your reciprocation of his undying love for you and he grins as he finally opens his eyes. He smiled tiredly toward you before taking note of your weary expression. It was shame, regret, fear, written all over your face that brought a frown to his own as he realized, you didn’t want him and never would. He was usually okay with that fact but it hit him even harder that night as he stared out of the window and through the trees that blocked his view of civilization. He longed to have you as a lover but knew he would never be able to, but to lose you as a friend as well would bring upon a pain akin to breaking every bone in his body simultaneously. He just couldn’t do it. So he brushed his feelings aside for you for what seemed like the millionth time as he cleared his throat, still staring straight ahead. He couldn’t bear to look at you yet, at least not without bursting into tears and he figured you felt the same as your eyes remained trained to your hands in your lap.

“W-we don’t have to talk about it if you want.” he spoke after what seemed like a millennia of silence, his voice meek and broken. He saw you nod out of the corner of his eyes as the awkward tension in the atmosphere only grew thicker. He didn’t want things to be like this with you and he wished with his entire being that he could undo what just happened if he could have his old ____ back again. “So-” he began as if to start a conversation to alleviate the weird aura but was cut off by your voice. You almost cried at the thought of him trying to mask his pain to make you feel comfortable. You of all people, and you couldn’t watch him do that to himself.

“Can you just take me home Jimin?” you asked, your voice surprisingly normal as he nodded while the car rattled to life. The ride home was silent as the two of you sat, subtly facing away from each other. Not even a goodbye was said once you had reached your house. Well, Jimin tried to say goodbye but you had already jumped out of the car by the time he turned his head to send you off. He just frowned, scrunching his nose and driving off. Unbeknownst to the other, you both cried yourselves to sleep that night at the daunting thought of losing your best friend over a mutual careless mistake.

He didn’t want to leave you, no matter how hurt he felt because he knew, you had just been left by someone else and he wouldn’t do that to you, but you would do that to him. For months after that day, you sent him not one text, never called, never visited over the summer, even after you started your first year of college and left him behind for his senior year. Nothing. But he knew to give you your space, to let you come to him when you were ready, and you did. You texted him a quick ‘congrats’ after he graduated which quickly spurred into a long conversation which turned into an eight hour phone call of just catching up which turned into meeting up with him a few times after he started his first semester of college at the university beside you which turned into a friendship that picked up like it never left off. So that led you here, sitting in Jimin’s living room staring at him as you still have yet to answer his question that echoes in your head. ‘Remember prom night?’ a question so lighthearted in diction yet weighed so heavily on your mind for those silent for minutes of memory. But sadly, as much as you wish it weren’t the truth, you do remember prom night and you finally nod.

“Yeah” you breathed, finally answering his question as you both gazed longingly into eachothers eyes, the unasked and unanswered questions and reasons floating in the air around you while you sat in silence. His wide brown eyes are full of curiosity and hope that you would finally answer the unsaid question that had been plaguing his mind ‘did it ever mean anything?’ but you just couldn’t. The answer sat on the tip of your tongue that was firmly pressed to the roof of your mouth, but you didn’t have the courage to articulate them, not yet. You just stared back, hoping the pleading glint in his eyes would fade and all the remorse would finally leave your body but it didn’t, he still stared. You used him, his body, his mind, his love, his entire being. You used it all for your pleasure, unbeknownst to you at the time because for some twisted reason you thought blatantly playing with his emotions would in turn benefit him. You couldn’t explain why it happened, you could barely say it to yourself, so you remained silent for as long as you could bear before finally deciding to say something. Anything. You opened your mouth, fighting back the tsunami of bottled up feelings that threatened to fly out at any given moment before simply stating.

“Of course I remember, why’d you ask?”

[su-univeralai]

GOOODDDD MORRNNNNIINNNGGGGG SUU 💛

I am here for your essay. Or yknow, just any dunebaby facts that you can spare.

*heavy breathing* oh no, she's come for my OCs exactly like she said she would.

lolol Ok, I've got bios on 9 out of 10 of my kids so far, but I wrote a quick blurb about them so hopefully you can't figure out who I didn't start until now lol. The older 4 (which 3/4 are legit characters in LOK, but tweaked to my liking) are grown-ass adults while the other 6 are probably between 14-21. So, our beloved Taang parents have been popping kids out from when they were 18 or 19 to 39 or 40 years old.

At some point I'll make a family tree for you, since most of the older dunebabies have their own families and that can be confusing. Some have more information than others, but more will be added on each of them as time goes on. I just haven't figured them out yet.

Also, gonna put a cut here, because it's a long post and I know not everyone wants to see my OCs lol.

Ok Onto the Dunebabies from oldest to youngest:

Gyatso (M) Airbender, 35: Named after Aang’s father figure, Gyatso is Toph and Aang’s first born and first of several airbending children. He has a knack for the art and excelled quickly with mastering it, narrowly falling short of beating Aang’s record of mastering airbending at 13. As he got older and his parents continued having children, he became like a father figure to the younger ones. That’s the best part about having tons of kids, right? At some point the older ones raise the younger ones and the parents can just have fun. Once Tiao Wu turned 13, Gyatso and his own wife, boyfriend, and kids moved away from home and resided in the Western Air Temple with some Air Acolytes.

Lin (F) Earthbender, 32: Lin is a straight arrow, always following the rules. Sometimes Toph’s jokes that her first born daughter is actually Katara’s because wasn’t as goofy as Gyatso and Tenzin. As kids, Lin and Tenzin butted heads like no other. They may have had a year or two when they got along, but that was when Lin was training to be a police officer and Tenzin was always out because he was dating Pema. They constantly bicker at family gatherings, but make a mean team when they spar against the other next gen kids. Their twin telepathy (yes, they are twins in my universe) comes into play and they are undefeatable. That is until the triplets becomes masters in their own right. While Lin is a talented earthbender and metalbender, she struggled with picking it up (perhaps because of Toph’s hardcore teaching style). She responded to a “more gentle approach” as Katara would say, and Aang helped her learn the basics until she was ready to take on Toph’s more intense lessons. Lin is definitely closer with Aang than she is with Toph, but goes to mom if something needs to be done quickly and under wraps. Lin works long hours as chief of the police force in republic city, so she doesn’t have much time for romance. When she finds a spare moment for intimacy, she frequents a bar that accepts everyone. She brought Songa with her before her little sis fell in love with (insert steambaby daughter name here).

Tenzin (M) Airbender, 32: Tbh Tenzin still marries Pema and has his four kids, like in LOK. Lol. Unlike the show, with the weight of the whole air nation not on his shoulders, Tenzin was not a serious kid. He played pai sho with the white lotus members and roughed it up with Lin. Tenzin had a difficult time mastering airbending, though. He lacked the spiritual connection that his father and brother easily had. He blamed being stuck with an earthbender in the womb for 9 months at his lack of skill with airbending. His masters airbending at 21 and is pumped to finally get his tattoos. Since Pema is an air acolyte, I'm saying that her parents were also acolytes, and she and Tenzin met as kids and got along really well. They started dating at 16. Tenzin wanted to wait to get his arrows before proposing to her, so they date for 5 long years as Pema cheered him on in the grueling training. Tenzin and Pema eventually move to the Northern Air Temple and kept Teo company.

Suyin (F) Earthbender, 26: Suyin was a troublemaker when she was a kid, always pranking her siblings. She spent way too much time with Sokka. At least that’s what Toph says. Her teenage years, that’s when things became dicey. With Lin on the streets as a cop and Su committing petty crimes, the two were bound to cross paths. After Lin brought her in for whay must have been the thousandth time and Toph had to bail her out, Toph sent her to the her old stomping ground: the Earth Rumble 6. Toph still had her ear in the stadium and stayed in touch with The Boulder, and she thought it’d do her some good to get beat up by other earthbenders. Su stayed with her grandparents and got the structure she needed and got her act together. She got pounded by her opponents the first few years, but she slowly moved her way up the food chain and eventually held her mother’s old title as champion. Once she turned 18, she left to travel the world, meeting up with Kya (can't decide if Kya will be a steambaby or a Sukka baby. Is there a cut name for Sukka babies?). Along the way she met Bataar and fell in love with him and together build zaofu and have all their kids from LOK.

Songa (F) Airbender, 21: The oldest of the triplets to be born. Songa is a calm spirit, she reminds Aang of Yangchen with her way of keeping the peace in their large family. She’s a true romantic like her father and catches the attention of a lot of men, but alas, her heart is won over by one of Katara and Zuko’s daughters, (insert steambaby name here lol). She sees the best in everyone and trusts a little too easily. Watch out though, if you get on her bad side or betray her trust one too many times, her mother’s sass and tongue come out and no one wants to be hit by her earthbending styled airbending. Songa is a talented bender and has a tendency to use her airbending like an earthbender, facing things head on. She can seemlessly switch between styles, but she'd prefer to take her opponents on directly.

Kera (F) Nonbender, 21: Kera is the heart of the triplets. She’s passionate like a firebender and meets conflict head-on like her mom. Being the first non-bender didn’t feel great coming from the lineage of the Avatar and Toph Beifond, strongest earthbender in the world and metalbender originator, but she found peace in being a non-bender when hearing all the stories of Sokka, Suki, Mai, Ty Lee, Teo, and their many other friends taking down bender and non-benders alike. Kera begged her parents to live in the Fire Nation to study under Mai and Ty Lee. Aang and Toph didn’t have any problems with her going, but Zuko and Katara did, fearing she (being a dunebaby) would cause mayhem in the palace. Only after swearing to Zuko that she wouldn’t make a mess did the Fire Lord allow her stay with them. During her time there, she mastered Mai and Ty Lee’s techniques and trained under the Yuyan archers. When she came home, she could beat the other two thirds of her triplets easily. Only when she teams up with the other two, can they take down Lin and Tenzin.

Choekyi (M) Airbender, 21: The last of the triplets to come be birthed. Choekyi is a free spirit, much like his father. He enjoys traveling and meeting new people. As a child (and an adult) he is easily excited and is a very charismatic guy, which gets him far with the ladies in his teens and early twenties. He’s never scared of trying new things, sometimes to his detriment, as he gets hurt a lot for someone light on his toes. His preferred method of transportation is air scooter. Choekyi gets along with Uncle Sokka the most, with his never ending jokes and letting him learn how to throw a boomerang even though he’s a bender. Choekyi spends some time in the swamp with the swamp benders just because he finds them to be hilarious and interesting. This is where he connects with his spirituality and returns to excel in airbending, and earns his tattoos.

Songa and Kera are idenitcal twins, so no one (beside Toph and Choekyi) can tell them apart until Songa earns her arrows. Choekyi looks similar to them, as he is their triplet, but since he came from a different egg, he turns out to be much taller than his sisters. Just imagine Toph's face when she feels three freakin' heartbeats along with hers. Idk if that's scientifically sound, but it's my universe, so I can say what I want lol.

Gyun (M) Nonbender, 18: He's a very musical guy. Gyun means music, but it can also mean germ or bacteria. So his older siblings make fun of him when he’s young. While his bending siblings practice and spar, he masters most musical instruments and even becomes a skilled singer. He’s a favorite of Uncle Iroh’s and spends time with him playing music and perfecting his tea making when he’s not training with Master Piandao and mastering different types of sword fighting styles. Gyun is a lover, not a fighter, and is recruited as the youngest member of the national opera company. He rises in fame, without having to reveal his high ranking connections to his family members. Gyun is a true renaissance man (you know if the renaissance existed back then). He looks up to all of his siblings and soaks in all the stories and advice his can get to perfect the art of storytelling and acting.

MeiLin (F) Nonbender, 17: MeiLin may be one of the youngest, but she’s definitely the sassiest of the bunch. With the personality like her mother, it’s no wonder she’s a bosslady even from a young age. She doesn’t take shit from anyone. While she’s the beauty of the dunebabies (but who really isn’t attractive in this family?) and can hold her poise better than any royal, from the tender age of three, she’s wanted to become the fiercest fighter in the world. After a lot of convincing, Toph and Aang let her train with Aunt Suki and learn how to fight like a Kyoshi Warrior. After she masters that, She begs her parents to send her to the Fire Nation to study under Mai and Ty Lee. By the time she’s 14, she’s already mastered the art of dagger throwing, chi blocking, and the Kyoshi warriors fighting style. Aang isn’t too pleased that she fights in tournaments like Toph did, but Toph watches every match she can get! MeiLin asks her to bet on her and they split the wealth at the end. Lin wants her youngest sister to join the police force when she turns 18, but MeiLin isn't sure she wants to enforce the law like Lin.

Tiao Wu (M) Earthbender, 14: The baby of the family, and loves it. Unlike MeiLin, Tiao Wu is a homebody and a huge mama’s boy, though really isn’t a mama’s boy in the Beifong Family? Like his name suggests, he’s a great dancer and for an earthbender, he sure is light on his toes. While Gyatso is called Twinkletoes Jr, Tiao Wu is known as the Fancy Dancer. Literally. That’s the stage name he chose for his bending dance competitions. When he’s not dancing or hanging out with Toph, he’s studying his cousin’s bending forms, wanting to incorporate it into his repertoire. Tiao Wu is also close to Aang, as he showed an early talent to be one with the spirits. As a six year old, he would meditate next to Aang and beat the freakin’ Avatar, master of all four elements and bridge between the physical and spiritual world, to the Spirit World. He’s also known to be the only human who is allowed to visit Wong Si Tong’s library there.

ALRIGHT Joy, here are some basic facts about my dunebabies universe. If you or anyone else wants to send me asks so I can more deeply construct their personalities, feel free!

[unlikelyempathpruneauthor]

Romeo and Juliette

Summary-Harry x reader-you were away filming and you come home to a surprise.

A/N: Hey y'all! hope you had a good one, here is another fic I wrote weeks ago, so this one might be bad lol. Hope you all enjoy!

“I should be home in 2 hours, babe.” you said as you saw your boyfriend on the screen who was grinning.

“I'm glad, i have something planned for us if that's okay.” he said as you giggled.

“Okay, what are we doing.” you said as he squinted and then rolled his eyes playfully.

“I can't really tell you love.” he said as you smiled.

“Okay then, I should see you soon bubs.” you said as he smiled.

“Alright love, fly safe, love you.” he said.

You said goodbye and started to head to the airport. You didn't really like flying alone, but if Harry was gonna be there when you landed, you were gonna fly alone. You and Harry have been dating for about 3 years, you two were sweethearts. It took both of you a while to admit your feelings to one another, so once it happened, everyone was relieved that you two were together. Tom and his brothers knew Harry was in love with you, the way he looked at you as you read your novel, he loved the way your eyes would look through each word of the page.

At this point both Tom and Sam planned out for you all to hang out, but by the end both Tom and Sam bailed on you guys leaving you both to hang out. Harry knew this was his time to tell you, he knew he had to make it special and he did.

As you two looked at one another's eyes, he looked down at your hand and held it. His thumb placed circles on your hands, and you looked at his beautiful brown eyes. He just said it, “i'm in love with you.” he said as you fell for him much more. He looked at your face features for any sign of rejection, but all you could do was look at him in awe. You smiled and spoke, “im in love with you too.” you said as he smiled and placed his hands on your face and kissed you deeply. You grabbed his neck, taking him in even more, wanting him to be closer to you much more.

As your kiss ended, you looked at one another. You both had turned around and saw Sam and Tom whooping and clapping at what just happened, their plan worked and in a way you were thankful for them bailing.

Ever since then you would always want to be closer to harry, especially when you were away, you just missed him, the way he would caress your cheek, the way he played with your hair, he loved how you played with his hair and called him sweet things like, my sweet boy, or bubs, which was his favorite.

He loved you and you for sure loved him. No matter what he was your person and you were his. Since day one he knew that he wanted to be with you for the rest of his life. You wanted the same, it didn't matter if you had a ring on your finger or if you had a kid with him. You knew he was the one. You loved him endlessly. What you didn't know was that he was ready for you to be in his life forever, and be Mrs. Holland.

As you woke up, you saw there were about five minutes on the plane, you just wanted to see Harry and hug him close to you. What you didn't know was that he was waiting for you with flowers. His plan was to take you to where your first date was, the museum. You two had spent hours looking through the art and the historical books. At one point Harry mentioned that even with the beautiful art surrounding them, that you were the most beautiful art. You remember that pick up line so easily, it was your favorite pick up line he said.

As you landed and got your luggage, you walked up to where Harry was going to be. You hadn't seen him near, so you called him.

“Hey bubs, im here, are you near by?” you asked as he giggled.

“Eah I am, here let me move around see if you can see me alright?” he said as you nodded as if he was there. He walked over to you, behind you actually, and saw how you were looking around.

“I miss you harry.” you said as he laughed.

“Me too love.” he said close to you as he hugged you and you smiled hugging him close.

“Hi, oh flowers?” you asked as he nodded and handed them to you.

“Yeah I just want you to know I love you so much, I was gonna do something big, but I only had time for flowers.” he said as you smiled and looked down at the flowers.

“Harry, these are lovely, no matter what you give me I will love it if it comes from you.” you said as he looked at you in awe.

This was one of the many reasons he loved you so much. His past relationships were bad for him since the girls he was with were only trying to get with Tom, or just being with him because of what he makes.

But you, you were different. You would get mad if he ever took you out to an expensive date, or even if he bought you a gift. You always loved getting flowers or books from him. Especially if it's a book you were wanting. You were in love with him because of him, you have been for years.

“So what's on the agenda bubs.” you asked as he took your luggage and your hand.

“Well love, we are actually on our way.” he said as you freaked out a little since you didn't really look that fancy.

“Wait, i'm not that well dressed bubs.” you said as he shook his head.

“Its okay love, you look beautiful, so we'll be fine.” he said as you smiled.

“Thank you bubs, you look very handsome as well.” you said as he blushed, getting all flustered.

You two got in the car and headed over to the secret destination. He headed the museum where you had your first date. You were a little confused as to why you were there, but you loved to visit the museum with him. He had opened your side of the door and let you out.

“Where are we going first.” you said exciting to see the art.

“Well, what's the first one we saw on our first date.” he asked as you thought.

“Oooh the Romeo and Juliet painting..right?” you said as he nodded.

That painting was one of your favorites. You were wondering why he mentioned that painting. As you walked over to where the painting was located he held your hand. He was so nervous he was gonna mess up, but even if he did you would say yes.

“I uhm, can you tell me about the panting again.” he said as you looked up at him.

“Why bubs? Do you have to recreate something like this?” you said as he shook his head and placed you in his arms.

“No, i just like it when you talk about it.” he said as you kissed his cheek as he laid his chin on your shoulder.

“Well, I love how they love each other, despite the age gap, but you know I wish Shakespeare made Juliet the same age as Romeo, so there isn't that much conflict. Anyway you know they don't care about what people think about their love, even if Romeo was a Montague, Juliet loved him. Which proves that no matter what, a human being will always love another, despite differences they may have that could create conflict. If they were alive i feel like they would break the rules of marriage. Again i wish juliet was the same age as him.” you said as you continued to ramble. He loved it when you rambled. He loved how much passion you put in a conversation. He had let go of you and got behind you. You didn't really notice because when you ramble you ramble a lot. He got down on one knee and just smiled hoping you would turn around. Lucky you did.

“You know I just love it-” you said as you looked down. You were shocked and you smiled.

“Well, I should probably do this before you cry love.” he said as he got the ring out and you gasped.

“Just like juliet you love me no matter what, even if i forget to do my laundry, you still find the way to help me do it, i love that you are with me, i wish we were together when we were much younger, but you know i was scared. I was scared to loose what i had with you. I loved it way too much, but now i wish i did it sooner. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, just like you ramble on and on about a subject. I want you to be there with me forever. You've been there for me from the beginning and I want you to be there in the end.” he said as you smiled and had tears rolling down your cheek.

“So, will you, y/n, y/m/n, y/l/n, do me the honor and spend the rest of your life with me and become my wife?” he said as you smiled and nodded.

“Yes I will.” you said as he slipped the ring on your finger and hugged you.

You both hugged one another in the middle of the museum. You knew this was one of the memories your mind was never going to forget. You two were meant to be and you were happy to one day tell your kids you were soulmates.

[mummybear]

Yes Miss

This Is Day 2 Of RolePlay May

Words: 5506

Warnings: Smut, Sub Dean, Younger Dean, Young Dom Teacher Reader, Detention, Good Boy Talk (Praise Kink), Oral Female and Male Receiving, Back Scratching, Hair Pulling, Orgasm Control, Think That’s It

Characters: Dean Winchester, Reader, Several Douche Friends, Castiel

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summery: Dean Winchester is the cocky jock in school, who winds all of the teachers up to breaking point. However, he doesn’t have quite the same effect on the teaching assistant who takes over for the day. She make sure she shows him just how much of a good boy he can be.

Being a teaching assistant at your old school had proved to be very rewarding in the short time you’d been doing it. You were working beside the best professor in the entire building, at least in your opinion. There were a couple of older kids in the class, who had either been held back or who had decided to do an extra year, they had proved to be a challenge. They always pushed you more, since you weren’t much older than them.

Unfortunately since Mr. Turner wasn’t in today, he was away on a teaching conference, you were left in charge. 

But of all of them the worst by far, was Dean Winchester. He was new here, not that it had stopped him from becoming popular and very quickly. He came across cocky, self assured, in complete control of everyone and everything, almost like he didn’t have a care in the world. 

But you could see the truth.

Walking into the classroom you called for quiet. The chattering noise died down a little when you stood in front of your desk, looking around the room. All except for the older kids, who thought that they were above everyone, including you. 

“Quiet” you called again, louder this time, walking through the lines of desks that were placed around the room, heels clicking with every step you took.

You stopped in your tracks, hearing a snicker of laughter to your right, arching your eyebrow you folded your arms against your chest. Looking down at the main cluster of ‘problem’ students, you cleared your throat. “I’m sorry, is something funny?

“No need to shout sweetheart, we’re just having a conversation” Dean pipes up suddenly, looking up at you with those big green eyes, chin resting on the heel of his hand he smirks.

You scoff a laugh, “Excuse me. Did you just sweetheart me?”

Dean shrugs, a smirk curling his lips. “Yeah, why?” he asks matter of factly. “You look pretty damn sweet” he adds, licking those smirking lips.

“Well, Mr Winchester, lets see how sweet you find this. I will see you in detention when school finishes,” you reply as sternly as possible. 

Watching that smirk disappear, enjoying the nervous swallow that follows.

“You’re kidding right?” he all but stutters, green eyes now wide with complete and utter shock.

“Oh no. I’m deadly serious. You will attend your detention on time and hopefully you’ll learn who’s in charge. Or I will have you back, again and again until you learn” you reply smugly, walking away with an extra swing in your hips, ignoring the snickers from his friends as he tells them to shut it, you lean back against your desk.

“Anyone else?” you question with a smile, the entire class shakes their heads, almost in sync, looking down at their work books waiting for you to start. But you don’t miss the glare that you’re still receiving from Dean.

“Okay, brilliant. Then let’s start shall we!” 

Luckily the class goes well after that, with very few unwanted interruptions. But you could still practically feel Dean glaring at you from across the room. The bell rings informing everyone it’s time for their next lesson, you luckily have a free lesson next, so you’re not in any rush. As usual, the first row of students are also the first to leave, eager to get to their next classes and not be late.

“Mr. Winchester, could I see you for a moment before you leave, please” 

“Yes miss,” he grumbles, his friends shove at his shoulders, laughing as they make jokes about how much trouble he’s in and of course, making sure to wish him a sarcastic good look as they leave the classroom.

The room is silent, except for the shuffle of Dean packing his stuff away and the click clack of your heels against the tiled floor. You lean on the desk table, the one opposite his, which hitches your black pencil skirt higher on your thighs. 

You notice that Dean has paused and his gaze lingers on your legs. You clear your throat causing Dean’s focus to shift, finally looking back at your face. He licks his lips but has the decency to blush about the fact he’s been openly looking at you. You can’t help but smile at how embarrassed he looks, it’s so cute.

“I just wanted to let you know, my detention will be two hours long. So if you had any plans you may want to cancel them” you explain.

Upon hearing his grumble of annoyance you walk to stand in front of his desk, placing your hands on the top, you lean forward and his eyes lock on yours immediately.

“Look, you’re hot okay. I had to try it” he shrugs, looking suddenly very smug again. You notice he’s not looking at you anymore, he’s looking out the classroom door, over your shoulder.

You walk away from him and over to the door. 

“Would you all like a detention for being late to your next classes?” you question sternly, noticing the way they all look between one another.

“Whatever, don’t be such a ball buster” he huffs as he walks away, his remaining friends following behind him.

You turn to Dean closing the door behind you, finding him now standing, leaning against your desk. You take the papers that he’d snagged from your desk out of his hand, dropping them back onto the table top.

Dean watches you closely, the smirk now gone from his plump lips once more. “Your bad boy routine may work on your friends Dean, but it’s not gonna work on me. Clearly I need to pay you a little extra attention from now on” 

His mouth opens and closes a few times, like he’s trying to figure out what to say in reply.

“What does that mean?” he asks nervously, as you come to stand right in front of him.

“It means that you need to learn how to behave yourself in my classroom, because I won’t put up with it. Just because we’re close in age, please understand me here. I’m in charge, not you. Trust me, after today you’ll do as you’re told. Is that clear?” you explain firmly, watching the way his breathing seems to increase with every word.

“Yes m-miss” he practically stutters, eyes casting down suddenly.

‘Oh there he is’ you think to yourself, seeing the way Dean’s responding to your words. 

“Good boy” you practically purr, smiling when he looks back up at you quickly, his pupils blown wider. You hear him groan a curse under his breath, which makes you even more confident you’d been right.

“You’re smart Dean, those guys who you call friends, they don’t know it. You hide it well when you act like such an ass” you tell him honestly, leaning over him you grab the form you’d written for him, you hear him suck in a breath when your body brushes against his.

You hand him the paper which explains that it was your fault that he was late.

“I-uh thanks” he manages to get out, taking the paper from your hand, he slings his backpack over his shoulder and leaves the room, not waiting for a reply. 

The rest of your day goes fairly well, with the small exception of having the older people in the classes still acting up, but nothing compared to what you’d had to deal with earlier that day. With your last class of the day leaving you busy yourself with tidying up the classroom, sending Mr. Turner a quick message to let him know your day had gone well. Just as you close your laptop there’s a quiet knock at the classroom door.

“Come in” you call out, tossing the last of the trash in the bin.

You turn to find Dean entering quietly, until he notices you looking at him. “Um, hi miss. Should I just sit down?” he questions quietly, nodding to the chair he’d been sitting in earlier. 

“Actually Dean, would you mind if we went into my office?” you ask him gently, but it’s not really a question, you’re already walking towards your office with Dean trailing behind you.

Walking inside you wait for Dean to follow you in, before closing the door behind the two of you. You watch as he shrugs off his bag and drops it down by the door, “Take a seat” you smile softly, nodding towards the chair that sits a little way back from your desk.

Dean takes the seat rather quickly, dragging his hands up and down his thighs as he looks up at you expectantly. Leaning down, you rest your hands on the arm rests of his chair, studying the way he shifts under your gaze. The bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows, his lips part as he licks them slowly.

“Why don’t you pay attention in class Dean?” you ask him quietly, fingers tightening around the arms of the chair.

He looks taken aback for a moment as he stares up at you, fingers tightening around his thighs.

“I-I don’t know, miss. I’m-” he starts to mutter a reply but falls short as your legs press against his knees, he lets them fall open, allowing you to step between them.

“You wanna know what I think?” you ask as your face edges just a little closer to his, he tries to push up higher in his chair as he nods eagerly, green eyes now a much darker shade than before. You hum with a smile, pulling back you step away from him, enjoying the way he slumps back down in the chair slightly.

Your fingers skim along his arm and up his shoulder as you circle him, finally coming to a stop behind him. Leaning in close enough for your breath to ghost over his ear you speak again.

“I think you act like you’re in control, like you’re the typical cocky jock, the bad boy that every girl wants. When in reality you’re a good boy, who likes being controlled, you need someone to look after you. You crave it don’t you?” 

Pausing for a second, you let the words sink in, revelling in the way he’s starting to lean further back with your every word. Not missing the way his breathing has increased, or the way he’s clenching his jaw, trying to hold back the noises he wants to make.

When he doesn’t speak though you move in closer, letting your lips brush against his earlobe. Dean leans into your touch when your hand pushes through the back of his hair, reaching the top of his head. You grip his hair between your fingers, using it to tug his head to the side harshly, finally pulling a moan from those perfect lips.

“Now, I asked you a question Dean, if I was wrong about you being a good boy, then you can always leave, any time you want in fact. You only have to ask, tell me you want out” you explain releasing his hair, walking back around his body to face him. You barely have time to lean back against your desk before he’s shaking his head at you.

“No, miss. Please, I’ll be good” he rushes out, with eyes wide and his fingers wrapped tightly around the arms of the chair he’s sitting on. 

The smile spreading across your lips seems to egg him on even more. 

“You were right. I need it,” he adds quickly, looking up at you with those big green pleading eyes.

Leaning back on your desk you push the paperwork to the side, noticing the obvious and rather impressive bulge in his pants.

“I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you tell me what you need, Dean?” you ask seductively as you remove your jacket and drop it to the floor.

You can tell how nervous he is as he clears his throat, voice shaking as he speaks.

“I really wanna kiss you, I haven’t stopped thinking about it since this morning” 

You hold on your hand out to him with a soft reassuring smile on your lips. Dean’s chewing on his lip still looking up at you like a lost puppy, but he’s also trying to hide his slight smile. 

Finally he reaches out with his big hand and takes your much smaller one. Taking a step away from the chair he’s standing right in front of you, releasing his hand, you place it on your hip, feeling his fingers flex against your soft white t-shirt before gripping your waist tightly.

Running your hands over his crisp white shirt, up his surprisingly strong chest, gently you pry his plump bottom lip from between his teeth and cup his freckled cheeks.  

“Come here” you tell him softly, rising up on your tiptoes as you pull his face down closer to you.

The first time your lips touch, it’s a light brush of your lips against his, they’re so soft and feel so good, that you let his other hand land on your waist. When he steps between your legs to pull you closer, your lips press against his again, a little firmer this time, more insistent. Your tongue carefully strokes over his bottom lip before you suck it into your mouth, pulling a desperate whimper from Dean when you drag your teeth along it and release it.

That helpless whimper does things to you immediately, you can even feel the slick beginning to gather in your panties. Standing quickly, you push Dean back gently, turning both of you so that Dean is pressed back against your desk. Your tongue brushes over his, he doesn’t even try to fight you for dominance, he lets you control the kiss, your tongues in perfect sync with one another.

Pulling away from his mouth his lips follow yours, eyes still closed and lips parted ever so slightly. A blush forms on those freckled cheeks when his eyes flicker open, finding you smiling up at him.

“Wow” he breathes out suddenly, making you smile as you start to unbutton your shirt.

You pause trying to meet those lust blown eyes, hearing his deep moan, realising that his eyes are focused on your hands.

“Want me to stop, baby? We don’t have to go too far, not until you're ready” you ask tentatively and he finally meets your eyes.

“What? No! Don’t you d-” he stops quickly, realising his mistake with your change in demeanour as you step back from him, crossing your arms over your chest.

Your giggle clearly surprises him, but there's no humour in it. 

He’s eyeing you carefully when your fingers wrap around the neck of his shirt, gently turning him and pushing him back into his chair. He swallows hard, closely watching your every move.

“Oh sweety, that’s just adorable, really. Did you forget who’s in charge here already?” you question with a warning edge to your voice.

“No miss. I’m sorry” he tells you quietly but very quickly, focusing on his shoes, suddenly finding them very interesting. 

Humming in approval you continue to unbutton your shirt.

“Good boy. Now, look at me again baby” your voice remains quiet and seductive, as he looks up at you and a low moan leaves his throat. Dropping your shirt to the floor, you crook your finger at him. “You like what you see Dean?” 

Dean stands as you’d instructed, “I….I fuck. You look incredible” he stutters about to reach out and touch you, but he decides against it, dropping it back on his thigh. Walking around him slowly, you can see his body tense with expectation. 

He turns finally when you clear your throat, where he finds you sitting down.

“Now, strip” you state playfully, but there’s still that authoritative tone to your voice.

“I uh, wait. What?” his stuttered confusion is completely adorable and your smile quickly turns into a smirk.

Leaning forward in your chair you reach out, running your hand slowly from his knee up his inner thigh. Dean stumbles towards you, clenching his fists at his sides when your fingers skim past the bulge, instead hooking into the top of his pants, where you tug him forwards.

“No more touching baby, not until you strip for me” 

Relaxing back in the chair you watch as Dean sighs, fingers moving back to his shirt and he starts unbuttoning it. Revealing that smooth tanned and freckled skin that lies beneath. He tosses the shirt away and you can’t help but bite your lip, you’d called him a jock for a reason, but being on that damn football team had its advantages. 

He was toned, but not overly so, like a lot of the team were. He was down right fucking perfect, just as you’d expected he would be.

Kicking off his shoes, Dean’s hands go to his belt, the metal clangs and the leather slaps as he unbuckles it. You eagerly watch as he pops the button open on his trousers, then he pulls the zipper down.

“Mmm, look at you” you murmur appreciatively as he kicks his pants away.

He blushes even harder when he hears you, his cheeks almost bright red, spreading down his neck, and up to the tips of his ears.

“Do you want me to take these off too?” he asks almost shyly, hooking his thumbs into the elastic waistband of his tight fitting black boxers.

Standing from the chair once more you begin circling him, fingers lightly dancing across his skin with every step. 

“Being such a good boy for me baby” you praise him, carefully dragging your nails across his skin, feeling him shiver as you come to stand in front of him. “So polite-” you pause to drag your nails up his inner thighs ripping a whimpering noise from his throat. “-unlike earlier. It looks like you might be learning your lesson. So yes, take them off for me” 

Your praise has the desired effect and he’s unable to hide his smile. 

“Thank you, miss,” he replies white teeth biting back his smile. 

You step back to watch as he pulls the boxers down over his firm ass and lean hips and kicks them off to the side. Your eyes scan over his body appreciatively, taking in the sheer size of him, so well proportioned everywhere. 

Licking your lips you walk behind him, giving his ass a slap watching him jerk forward, a moan slipping past those plump lips. Your hands slide over his hips, one of your small hands wrapping around his thick length.

“Is this why you act so cocky, Dean?” you purr pumping his thick length in your hand.

“Fuck Y/N” he grunts loosing himself in the sensations.

“Does that feel good baby?” you ask hotly, pressing your front tight against his back.

“Oh god, so good. T-Thank you” he stutters through a moan, you slap his hip with your free hand when they start to thrust, trying to fuck into your hand.

“Stop being greedy, take what you’re given,” you warn him gently, your free hand moves to cup his balls and he groans loudly, nearly falling over his feet when he stumbles forwards.

“Sorry miss, I’ll be good. Can I touch you, please?” he pants as his hands finally find purchase on the windowsill to keep himself steady. 

Your hands fall away from his cock and you turn him to face you, he looks worried that he’s done something wrong until you smile up at him.

“Kiss me and take this off” you instruct him, grabbing his hand, you rest it on the zipper of your skirt. 

The words are barely out of your mouth before his lips are pressed against yours, this kiss is nothing like before, gone is the shy unsure boy, this one is eager to please and give you everything you want.

It doesn’t take long for your skirt to fall loose, dropping to your feet. Your fingers grip his hair harshly as your tongues meet and Dean melts against you.

When you finally pull away from his lips you're both gasping for breath, “Desk Dean, now!” you practically growl, doing your best to keep yourself in check, not let your control drop, you can tell how badly he needs this.

Dean’s big hands hook behind your knees as your arms wrap around his neck, he carries you quickly to your desk, brushing his lips over yours as he moves.

“You hungry baby boy?” you purr against his ear, as you ass hits your desk.

“Starving, Miss. Fuck, Please,” Dean begs hands resting on his thighs, blunt nails clearly digging into his muscles while he looks up at you. You’re unable to stop the groan that leaves your lips at his desperate pleas and the look on his beautiful face, which makes your panties dampen further.

Fingers tightening in Dean’s thick hair, you tug his head back harshly. Smiling at that pained whimper that leaves his lips, running the tip of your tongue up his throat, from his Adam’s apple to his chin, where you nip gently, before pulling your lips away. Gently you push down on his head, taking your lead he drops down onto his knees in front of you. Looking up at you with big green eyes, practically sparkling, wide with lust and pleasure.

“Fuck. You beg so pretty baby” you praise him, pulling your legs up, resting your heeled feet on the edge of the desk, spreading yourself open for him. “No hands. Not until I say” you warn him.

“Yes Miss” Dean agrees eagerly.

Shimmying to the edge of your desk, you quickly feel Dean’s hot breath ghosting over your inner thighs as he pulls his arms behind his back, holding them there. Goosebumps rise across your skin when Dean starts sucking marks into your thighs, slowly inching his way up. His tongue runs along the line of your panties, just out of reach to where you want him.

“Dean. Stop fucking teasing, or so help me God you won’t come” you growl your warning, unable to stop yourself.

“Shit Y/N, I’m sorry. I’ll be a good boy” he hurries to explain.

Dean doesn’t give you time to reply or change your mind before his thick tongue is pressing against your soaked panties. Making noises of appreciation against the slick black material as he drags his tongue up and down, pausing to suck now and again. One of your hands fist in his hair as the other pushes your panties to the side, causing a loud groan to leave Dean’s throat when his tongue finally starts to move against your slick pussy. He gives a long drawn out suck to your clit, making you cry out, clamping a hand on your mouth when he pulls away with a pop, that panty dropping grin from this morning returning to those plump lips.

Angling your hips up your start to roll them into his face, his muffled moans and groans spurring you on, twisting that coil in your stomach tight.

“Don’t you dare Dean, no hands” you gasp as his tongue presses against your clit harder, more insistently.

You’re just about able to see his thick cock from where you’re sitting, his nails digging into his hip as he fights his instincts to touch himself. Pulling back and looking up at you, green eyes wide and desperate, your slick shining on his chin and lips.

“I’m so hard, Miss please” he pleads before pushing his tongue inside you, keeping his eyes locked on yours.

“Dean!” you cry out, feeling your pussy begin to flutter as Dean’s tongue keeps moving, “Give me your hand” you pant out, feeling yourself right on the edge of orgasm, you just need a little extra.

Groaning as his name falls from your lips, Dean does as he’s told and you press his hand to the top of your pussy, “Rub my clit baby, wanna come on your tongue. I’m so close” 

He’s making so much noise beneath you. Your legs drop from the desk, pushing over his broad shoulders, Dean’s fingers move quickly back and forth over your clit. The band inside you snaps, legs seizing up as you come, pulling him as close as possible.

Dean licks you through your orgasm, slow and careful. He stops as your eyes flutter open, eyes lidded and heavy.

Your massive smile quickly turns into a look of annoyance as you look down at Dean, finding that he’s gripping his hard thick cock, pre-come leaking freely. 

He notices you looking and swallows hard.

“On the chair Winchester” you command, keeping your tone even, clearly failing to hide your disappointment by the look on Dean’s face.

His eyes are dark and wide as he gets to his feet, you pull your panties back into place, jumping down from your desk. Dean takes a step back for every one that you take forward, until the backs of his legs connect with the chair and he drops into it, the wood groaning under his weight.

Reaching behind yourself you unhook your bra, dropping it to the floor, Dean’s eyes widen even further, if possible and his mouth drops open. Hooking your thumbs into the sides of your panties you pull them down, over your ass and hips slowly, letting them fall down your legs you kick them off your shoe.

“Son of a bitch” Dean moans loudly, completely captivated by you standing bare in front of him.

Kicking his legs open, you climb into his lap, straddling his hips, his cock brushing through your soaked folds. You roll your hips over him, biting your lip as he watches you. Leaning in closer your breasts brush against his bare chest and you press your lips to his ear.

“You were doing so good for me baby, why did you touch yourself?” you question quietly, as his cock nudges against your clit, your hands grip his shoulders, nails digging into his skin harshly.

Dean leans into your lips, the feeling of them pressed against his ear. 

“Had to stop myself from coming miss, you’re so fucking sexy. Your pussy is so perfect, I’m sorry,” he grits out through clenched teeth, hands gripping the arm rests roughly. 

You lean up against him, smiling despite yourself. Your hand wraps around his cock and you slowly lower yourself onto the tip.

“You wanna make it up to me baby?” you ask seductively, your voice coming out breathy and wrecked as inch by inch he sinks inside you. 

“Yes! Anything. Whatever you want Y/N” he whimpers, letting his head fall back against the chair. You nip at his collar bone, your tongue running over the thick vein in his neck.

“Then do as you're told. You can’t come, not until I tell you to. Think you can handle that?” 

“I can do it, please” he whines as the last inch of his perfect thick cock is pushed inside you.

“Good boy. Then you can touch me” you tell him with a smile, a smile that slips as your lips part and you start to rise and fall on his cock, letting your heels give you a little extra height. 

His hands cup your breasts, thumbs teasing your nipples. One hand drops to your ass and grips tightly, helping you move. Dean’s lips seal around your free nipple, teeth dragging over the hardened nub as you whine and moan above him.

When he pulls away from your nipple with a pop, one of your hands grips his hair harshly, his forehead resting between your tits as you continue to ride him. Your chin rests on the top of his head, feeling him everywhere. His arms wrap around you, nails dragging down your back,  “Fuck you’re so big Dean, feel so perfect inside me. I can feel your cock throbbing baby, you gonna fill me up with your come?”

“Oh g-god” he cries out against your tits, dragging his teeth over the taut skin, “I’m so close Y/N, please, let me come. I need it” he’s begging again, the way he’s clinging to you, like a lifeline, only pulls you closer to that edge all over again. You knew he’d been the perfect choice.

“Just a little longer baby, come on, you can hold it. You’re doing so well for me” your praises seem to help him hold back, but his fingers tighten against you, nails digging in harder but you fucking love it.

He nods breathlessly against your chest, a free hand slips between your legs, pressing your fingers to your clit, you rub fast hard circles into the sensitive nub. Rocking your hips, hard and fast, combing your fingers through his hair as you feel the pit in your stomach burning. 

“Y/N, I c-can’t” he stutters, sweat coating his skin, his teeth sink into the side of your breast.

“Do it Dean, Do it. Come for me!” you cry out loudly, right before your own orgasm hits, way more intense than earlier. It sparks every nerve ending in your body, heart beat thumping in your ears, blood rushing under your skin.

You don’t have time to come down before Dean’s coming too, right behind you, his orgasm ripping an inhuman noise from his chest, prolonging your own orgasm. 

When the two of you finally come down he’s shaking beneath you, his grip on your back has relaxed slightly, but he’s still holding you tight.

“Dean? You okay baby?” you ask gently cupping his cheeks, tilting his head up so his eyes meet yours again.

“I’m good I promise, really good. That was just really intense” he rasps out voice completely wrecked.

You gently press kisses to his nose and cheeks, finally meeting his plump lips in a slow kiss.

“I’m so proud of you Dean, you did so well” the second those words your lips he’s grinning up at you, eyes bright green and shining again.

He finally pulls his hands away from your back, you watch with wrapt interest as his fingers brush across the marks he’d left on your skin.

“I’m sorry if i hurt you, it just felt so good” 

You wink at him when you finally climb out of his lap, pulling on your bra and panties. When you turn to pick up your skirt Dean hisses and you turn back to him worried. “You okay?” you ask quickly, pulling your skirt up your legs.

“Y-Your back, fuck I’m sorry” he apologises, a sad look crossing his face.

“Hey! None of that! It felt amazing and still does, it stings a little but it was worth it! I swear, I'm fucking great and you were incredible” you assure him honestly, pulling him out of the chair he kisses you again, with a force which surprises you. 

Pulling away with wide eyes a knock at the door sounds through the room, “You! Sit and stay” you tell him quietly, pulling on your jacket, hoping that the I dropped my coffee story will work to get rid of them.

“I’m naked!” Dean hisses making you giggle, you arch your eyebrow and he nods licking his lips and takes his seat.

“That’s my good boy” you tell him sweetly, pressing a fleeting kiss to his lips.

Another knock sounds as you finally finish buttoning your jacket.

“Stop it!” he groans as you head over to the door, unlocking it you keep it just wide enough for your head to peek through the gap.

“Hey Garth, you need something?” you question with a smile, one you’re sure is awkward as hell.

“Hey Y/N, you got a second. Wait what happened to your shirt?” he asks nodding down to your badly buttoned jacket.

“I spilt coffee on it, all good. I’m kinda busy with a detention right now” you tell him, grip tightening on the door when he tries to look inside.

“Winchester?” he asks with a roll of his eyes.

“Yep” you reply shortly, running your free hand through your hair.

“Come on Miss! I’m getting lonely” Dean calls from behind you, causing a blush to rise in your cheeks.

“I’ll leave you to it, we can talk later. Good luck” Garth smiles, you thank him before turning back into the room.

You glare at Dean as you walk back into the room, locking the door behind you. 

His smirk makes you want to fuck him and slap him all at once.

“Oh you’re gonna pay for that Dean-” you warn him, slapping his boxers out of his hands. “- and this time, you don’t get to make any noise” your smirk quickly rivals one of his.

“Oh fuck” Dean groans, beginning to see that being a smart ass wasn’t the best idea, you back him up against the wall and drop to your knees in front of him. 

“Remember, quiet now” you wink up at him.

Dean couldn’t wait for his next detention.

Tags: @chewie-redbird @julzdec @lettersofwrittencollective @stiles-o-dylan24 @mogaruke @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @dylanholyhellobrien @holyhellpit @desireepow-1986 @emichelle @lilulo-12 @22sarah08 @deanwanddamons @simsadventures​  @charmed-asylum @nicole-lynne @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @defenderrosetyler​ @emilyshurley @emoryhemsworth @fandom-princess-forevermore​ @flamencodiva​ @hobby27​ @akshi8278 @littlelonewolfgirl @ladywinchester1967 @screechingartisancashbailiff @maddiepants @spnfanfic-reblogs @holylulusworld @mrswhozeewhatsis @sonofabringmesomepie @mrsjenniferwinchester @hhiggs @captain-shannon-becker @pisces-cutie @fandomfic-galore @negans-lucille-tblr

Pong Tags:

@aprofoundbondwithdean @manawhaat @thing-you-do-with-that-thing  @nichelle-my-belle @notnaturalanahi @deanscarlett @roxy-davenport​ @impala-dreamer @samsgoddess @frenchybell @scorpiongirl1​  @deandoesthingstome @deansleather @curliesallovertheplace​ @whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname @waywardjoy​ @imadeangirl-butimsamcurious​ @kayteonline​ @supernatural-jackles​ @wevegotworktodo​ @quiddy-writes​ @babypieandwhiskey​ @supermoonpanda​ @deanwinchesterforpromqueen​ @chaos-and-the-calm67-blog​ @memariana91​ @plaidstiel-wormstache​ @teamfreewill-imagine​ @chelsea-winchester​ @becs-bunker​ @castieltrash1​ @supernaturalyobessed​ @ruined-by-destiel​ @winchester-writes​ @evilskank-inthemegacoven​ @maraisabellegrey-blog​ @faith-in-dean @winchestersmolder​ @bennyyh​ @clueless-gold @deanwinchesterxreader​ @winchester-family-business​ @there-must-be-a-lock​ @just-another-winchester​ @cas-backwards-tie​ @winecatsandpizza​ @firefly-in-darkness​

[yourehomesickiunderstand]

About/Rules/Verses

Hello, and welcome to my Bofur RP blog. This post is a HUGE wall of text, if you are on desktop and would like to see it a little tidier, please see the separate pages in the sidebar to the right. 

Promo Post Found Here

About the Mun

1. Firstly I am over 30, own a house, have a husband, 1 baby, 2 cats, and a wealth of commitments and responsibilities. I will do my best to reply in a timely manner, but will state up front that sometimes life gets in the way.

2. I am in EST and work M-F from 9-5, plus a half hour commute. Please understand that I can not post from work, and will not be posting during those times.

3. In addition, I am Mom to a very active toddler who is my priority over writing and who’s nap schedule tends to dictate when I can post.

4. My native language is English, though I can understand French, and a little bit of Spanish and Japanese. Don’t bank on me carrying on a decent conversation in any of those languages though.

About the Blog

1. When I first set up this blog I didn’t realize that secondary blogs can’t follow back, ask, or submit. My main blog name is Saffity, so if you see that blog follow you, it’s me. If I send an ask or submit, I will mention this blog name so you don’t get confused.

2. My inbox, ask, etc. is open. Please feel free to write me any starters, questions, or whatever.

3. Please send any critiques or suggestions to me. I’ve been on Tumblr forever, but have never really been a poster. If you see me doing basic noob mistakes with my posts that can be easily fixed, please let me know.

4. I will be tracking #yourehomesickiunderstand so please use that tag with our threads.

Mun’s Playing Style

1. I prefer my Bofur straight. I understand Boffins and other ships and have no qualms with them, I’ve been known to enjoy a good fluff fic once in a while, but this Bofur is straight.

2. Please send me an ask or fan mail if you would like our characters to have an already established relationship, I’m totally cool with it. I respond to all cannon characters as known as it shows in the books or movies, but if you are an OC and want something other than a “Nice to meet you” please let me know first.

3. I’m willing to do some fluffies, but not full on smut, if the thread calls for smut (which will often happen), I’ll fade to black when I’ve gone as far as I feel comfortable with. (Don’t worry, I’ll fade when I’m ready, you’ll never get any angry messages from me about going too far.)

4. Bofur here is multiverse, au, indie, whatever you want to call it. I’m sure he’ll fit into whatever crossover or world you decide to drop him in, he’s very easy going after all.

5. I tend to write in the past tense, third person. If you’d prefer a different style, just let me know and I’ll try to accommodate.

6. I’m bad with my images, so bad! I’m still figuring everything out, so if I’ve royally screwed something up, please let me know and I will delete and repost correctly.

7. I am super okay with editing anything I write if it doesn’t jive with your character or where you want the plot to go, please just let me know.

8. I mainly play on mobile, as such, I’m not able to cut my posts down. Please do so whenever you feel the need/want, I won’t be upset.

Head Cannons that go across all verses

1. Bofur has a Northern Irish accent and his hat, always his hat.

2. Bofur has named his hat Bundushathur, which in Khuzdul means “Cloudyhead” and will sometimes refer to his hat as a sleeping rabbit. If Khuzdul does not exist in the verse (like Modern) then the hat is called Cloudyhead and still referred to as a rabbit.

3. Bofur is the everyman, he isn’t special or high born. He is good natured, friendly, and the world’s best wingman, even if it means connecting someone he pines after with someone else. He would rather see them happy and keep their friendship than try to force his feelings on them or lose their friendship because of his pride.

4. The main characteristic about Bofur is that he is unimportant in the hierarchy of society.

Main Verse - The Hobbit/LOTR

Bofur is 4'6" but fairly thin for a dwarf.

Bofur is a dwarf who’s family line comes from Moria. He is of the mining class. He was born and raised in Ered Luin with his brother. Shortly after Bofur became an adult, his parents died, leaving him to raise his brother. Shortly after that, Bifur was injured in an orc attack. Bofur and Bombur took Bifur in, however there were a number of difficult years as they all got used to Bifur’s new personality.

Once Bifur was stable enough, the brothers decided it would be a good idea to head out and find new customers for their skills. They ended up at Bree, opening up a shop to sell Bifur’s fabulous toys, and offer tinkering services.

During their stay in Bree, Bombur got married to a passing female dwarf and moved his overly large family near the shop. Bifur and Bofur live together in living quarters at the back of the shop, Bombur lived with them until he got married.

Bofur travels around Middle Earth, usually west of the Misty Mountains, and most often between Bree and Ered Luin by way of the Shire. He collects supplies, sells wares, and visits many friends and family that are about the lands.

When Thorin calls for assistance in taking back Erebor, Bofur and his kin lock up their shop and head for the Shire.

After the quest they settle in Erebor, though Bofur heads back to Bree to close up their shop and settle accounts prior to settling in for a long life of enjoying his 14th share of the treasure.

Head Cannons that can totally change if my partner is a Bifur or Bombur

1. Bofur’s father was killed in Moria at the battle of Azanulbizar, his Mother died in an Orc attack when Bofur was in his 40s. He has taken care of his brother ever since.

2. Bofur took Bifur in after Bifur was orphaned as well, the three are like brothers, having shared the experience of loss and growing up together.

3. Bombur stopped speaking after their mother died. Bofur’s tried to get him to speak, and has managed to get him to speak sometimes, but usually just small replies and often with much prodding. Bifur and Bombur use the same sign language to speak to each other and those who don’t speak Khuzdul. Bofur takes care of both of them and is the one who speaks to customers.

Modern Verse

High School

Bofur is not popular, though he’s friendly and basically knows everyone. He enjoys shop class, classical music, and historical literature.

Studious and hard working, Bofur can often be found with his nose in a book, when not sitting on the bleachers playing the tin flute he always has on him.

College Student

Bofur is a TA in college. His major is historical literature, and his goal is to eventually become a professor. His passion is delving into historical fanatasy from cultures other than England and Western Europe.

He enjoys learning languages in order to read what he is researching in its original state.

General Modern Adult

In most modern adult verses Bofur is a general labourer, most often a janitor. If he is a teacher, he teaches music and drama.

Ice Cream Shop

Bofur runs a small home made ice cream shop that is part of a coffee shop run with a companion or family member (his partner can be any member of the company). He makes a variety of flavours, and offers lactose and gluten free varieties.

He prides himself on being able to guess his customers’ favourites on sight (like the movie Chocolat).

Marvel

Bofur is a janitor within shield. He can be found on the helicarrier, within the Avengers training base, or basically anywhere the heroes may be destroying things that need to be cleaned up.

While he is quiet and without powers, he has wisdom and a patient ear to lend to those supers who require a moment to vent.

Star Trek

This is the only verse where Bofur stands out. Bofur is a red shirt, but by some miraculous turn of events, he has gone on a number of away missions and made it back alive. Poor Bofur would love to get off the enterprise with his life, and shirt, in tact, but it appears some of the higher officers like to see him lose his mind and suggest him for more away missions, even if only in jest.

Head cannons that exist in all modern verses

1. Bofur and his family are from Northern Ireland, though Bofur travels around, goes to school abroad, and in general can pop up anywhere in the world.

2. Bofur is short for a male - 5'6", with a stocky build, and fairly strong.

3. Bofur’s younger brother Bombur is still at home (or married with kids depending on their age).

4. Bofur’s parents took Bifur in after he got injured during Armed Forces training, as Bofur’s family lives closer to the rehab resources that Bifur requires.

[tellmealovestory]

Something More (1/12)

Summary: After a bad breakup you ask your best friend to take your virginity. It’s just friends with benefits. What could possibly go wrong?

Notes: Also posted on ao3

Warnings: angst, implied smut

Series Masterlist

"I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice cracking as you readjusted your body on Bucky's couch. You pulled the blanket tighter around your frame as you avoided looking at your best friend.

It was Saturday which meant it was movie night a tradition that had started when you guys were younger. 

It also meant that it had been a week and a half since your ex boyfriend had broken up with you and to say you weren't quite over it yet was an understatement. 

The last couple of days had been hell. The breakup had come out of nowhere and even though you two hadn't been dating very long and you definitely hadn't been in love with him you had really liked him. 

What had hurt you the most was his reason for breaking up with you. It was stupid. So fucking stupid, but it didn't stop the tears from pooling at the corners of your eyes or the feeling of your chest constricting every time you thought about him or the breakup. Which seemed to be every minute of every day.

Your other best friend and roommate Natasha had tried everything to get you to open up or at the very least leave your apartment. Nothing had worked. Not when she tried telling you that he was an asshole, that you deserved better, that any guy who would break up with you because you weren't sleeping with him wasn't worth it, not even when she admitted that she was glad that the relationship was over because everybody had hated him. That only made you feel worse. It made you feel stupid and pathetic that you had been so desperate to have someone like you that you had ignored all the warning signs that he was bad for you.

The only thing that had made you finally leave your apartment was the thought of movie night with Bucky. But so far you felt all you had done was ruin it. 

For starters you hadn't been able to focus on the movie, your eyes had stayed on the screen, but your brain hadn't been able to comprehend what was happening. And when Bucky had ordered pizza from your favorite restaurant all you had done was pick at it.

To his credit he hadn't said anything, hadn't pressured you to talk, hadn't asked if you were okay, he knew you weren't. He knew it from the moment he opened the door and had taken in your tear stained eyes. Had known it when he saw you wearing his sweatshirt, the old one, the one where the threading was coming loose at the hem, the one you only wore when you were sad and wanted to feel comforted.

It was killing him not to reach over and wrap you in his arms. He knew you well enough not to push you to talk, you'd talk when you were ready, but watching you huddled up on the opposite end of the couch and hearing your voice crack when you apologized was enough to break his heart. He hated seeing you like this especially because there was nothing he could do to ease your pain and the thought killed him.

Bucky reached for the remote on the coffee table shutting the tv off. Neither of you had been watching the movie anyways. Turning to face you he frowned as he tried to understand what you were apologizing for. Since arriving at his apartment almost an hour ago conversation had been light and infrequent. Searching for the right words and coming up empty he sighed. 

"You have nothing to apologize for, Y/N."

You could feel the tears threatening to fall and you struggled to keep it together in front of Bucky. It wasn't as if you hadn't cried in front of him before because you had, but something about this time felt different. 

"I do. I'm ruining movie night and... I..." Your words dropped off, your voice faltering as the tears you tried so hard not to let fall began to roll down your cheeks.

"Y/N," his voice was soft, too soft for you almost didn't hear him. 

Feeling the couch shift underneath his weight as he moved closer you felt his arms wrap protectively around your shoulders. Leaning into him you buried your head in his chest letting the tears fall freely now as you felt his hand rub small circles against your back. 

"It's okay, shhh I'm right here, it's okay." The words fell from his lips like a mantra.

Your fingers curled around the soft material of his shirt as the tears fell faster. Being wrapped up in his arms like this made you feel protected and cared for and you wanted to tell him what was wrong, but the words were stuck in the back of your throat. 

You weren't sure how long you stayed curled up in Bucky's arms crying, but eventually your tears slowed leaving his shirt soaked and your throat dry. 

"I'm sorry about your shirt," you mumbled against his chest, and you were.

Despite the current situation Bucky felt his lips curl up into a small smile. Of course that's what you would be worried about. Something stupid like his shirt.

"I don't care about the shirt, Y/N," he said, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, "I care about you. Are you okay?" 

He could feel you shrug against him and the smile that had adorned his lips only moments before was replaced with a frown. He hated seeing you like this, so broken and he wished there was a way he could take away your pain.

"I... I feel so stupid," you admitted, your words coming out muffled against his shirt. "I know that... I mean I didn't love him and we weren't together for that long and... and as Natasha said she was surprised we lasted this long, and I..."

 It was a struggle to get the jumbled thoughts in your head formed into coherent words that would make sense to Bucky. Aside from telling Natasha the reason for the breakup you hadn't talked about it much. It was usually so easy to talk to him. You guys had been friends since you were kids and there were no secrets between the two of you, but for some reason talking to him about this was proving harder than you thought.

"Hey, it's okay we don't have to talk about this," he murmured as if reading your mind. The last thing Bucky wanted was to make this harder for you than it already was.

"It's okay," you muttered. 

While you appreciated him being so gentle you knew that you should talk about this and not just because Natasha had told you if you didn't she was locking you out of the apartment until you did. Maybe if you opened up to him you'd feel better, doubtful, but it was worth a shot. 

Your voice was shaky as you struggled to put your racing thoughts into words. 

"He dumped me because I wouldn't sleep with him." The words tumbled from your lips sounding like one long word and you prayed that he got all that because you weren't sure you could repeat it. Your face was hot with embarrassment, your heart racing beneath your chest and not for the first time in your life did you wish a hole would open up and swallow you.

While it was no secret that your friends knew you were a virgin it was somewhat of a sore subject for you. You were embarrassed at your age to still be one and no matter how many times Natasha told you there was nothing wrong with it you disagreed. You weren't waiting for marriage or waiting for "the one". Nothing like that. It was more the opportunity never presented itself. You had only ever had two boyfriends. 

One when you were a teenager that had resulted in a few heavy make out sessions but nothing else. It had been fine at the time, but as you got older your lack of experience began to upset you. Which was why when your ex had first started to show you attention you had jumped into a relationship with him. It was stupid and reckless. Sure, at the time being with him and pleasuring him and having him touch you had felt good, but now all you felt were regrets and embarrassment at being so desperate. Deep down you had known he wasn't the right guy, but that hadn't stopped you from rushing into things. Part of you was glad you hadn't slept with him, but another part of you wondered if maybe you should have. At least you wouldn't still have been a virgin and maybe if you had he wouldn't have dumped you.

The sound of Bucky's angry voice broke you out of your deep thoughts. "'M gonna kill him. Fuckin' asshole. You deserve better than him, sweetheart. If he really cared about you he wouldn't have broken up with you cause you're a virgin. Hated him from the moment you introduced us."

You didn't have to look at Bucky to know that he was seeing red. "You're not gonna kill him because he's not worth it, Bucky," you whispered.

"He may not be worth it, but you are, Y/N. He had you locked in your room for how many days crying over him. He has you thinking there's something wrong with you because you're still a virgin. He deserves to have his ass kicked for hurting you." 

Bucky shook his head not understanding how you could let him get away with this. He swore if he ever saw him he'd punch him in the face. You deserved someone who loved you and the fact that you wasted so many months on him made him so angry.

"You're not gonna kick his ass either, Bucky," you said, a small smile curving your lips up. Despite the subject matter you couldn't help the giggle that tumbled from your lips.

"Huh. Who knew talking about kicking his ass would be what got you to smile," Bucky teased. Pressing his lips lightly to your forehead he was glad to see you smiling even if it was only for a couple of minutes.

The lightened mood and your smile didn't last. It didn't take long for your mood to shift as your mind continued to ask the what ifs. What if you had just slept with him? What if your next boyfriend did the same thing to you? What if... what if... what if... Your mind couldn't seem to stop and before you knew it tears were pooling at your eyes and you lifted your hand up to quickly swipe them away.

"Hey, come on don't cry. He's not worth it, Y/N," Bucky whispered, his hands reaching up to cup your face, the pads of his thumbs brushing away your tears. 

Knowing there was nothing he could do to take away your pain or say to you make you feel better left his heart feeling as if someone had broken it into a thousand little pieces. 

"Hey, shhh it's okay please don't cry, honey," he tried again, desperate to ease your pain. Pressing soft kisses to your forehead and your cheeks. "Tell me how to make this better, please Y/N."

"Sleep with me." The words were out of your mouth before you had a chance to think them through or take them back. You felt Bucky's hands drop from your face and you felt your stomach drop. There were so many things you wanted to say. That you were just kidding, that you were sorry, that you could explain, but nothing came out and as an awkward silence fell over you the only sound you could hear was your heart racing beneath your chest and your shaky breath.

It was a game of chicken, who was going to speak first. Bucky knew that he should say something, he could see you retreating back into yourself, could see the tears falling down your cheeks faster, could almost hear you berating yourself for saying anything in the first place. He knew he had to say something and quick before you bolted out of the apartment, but he had to be so careful here. He didn't want to say the wrong thing and risk you getting more hurt than you already were.

Reaching for your hands he let out a breath when you didn't pull away like he had expected you to. 

"Y/N," he started, struggling to choose his words. "I'm not takin' advantage of you like that." 

Bucky was met with silence and taking that as a good sign he gently brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. After a couple of minutes of quiet however he was beginning to question if your silence was such a good thing after all. 

"Look at me, please?" He pleaded.

You couldn't. You couldn't stand to look at him and see the pity reflected back in his eyes. It would break your heart and it was already so shattered you weren't sure how much more pain you could take. Had you been in a better frame of mind you would have appreciated his gentlemanly approach of turning you down given your current state. But you weren't in a better frame of mind and you took his refusal to heart thinking there was something wrong with you. When you had left your apartment you didn't think your night could have gotten any worse. How wrong you had been.

"You planning on ignornin' me the rest of the night?" He asked, a hint of his Brooklyn accent seeping through. 

His attempt at a joke did little to ease the tension in the room. Dropping hold of your hands he placed two fingers under you chin, tilting it up and forcing you to look at him. "Talk to me." His voice was commanding and you found yourself squirming under his intense gaze.

You didn't see any pity reflected back in his eyes, but that still didn't make this any easier. 

"There's nothing to talk about. I-I shouldn't have... shouldn't have said anything." You lifted your shoulder in a shrug as if that explained everything. 

Bucky wasn't letting you off the hook however and when you saw him narrow his blue grey eyes you sighed in frustration. 

"You said... you begged me to tell you how to make this better and then when I do you turn me down!" There was a tremor in your voice and you hated how you couldn't seem to stop crying.

"I turned you down because you've been cryin' over that asshole since you came over here! This really how you want your first time to go? Huh?" He asked. There was an edge to his voice you weren't quite used to. It was rare for you guys to fight and you were struggling to find your voice. His grip tightened on your chin when you didn't answer him.

"Y-yes," you stuttered, a small hint of uncertainty lacing your words, but you weren't going to back down. This was what you wanted even if the circumstances weren't exactly ideal.

Bucky didn't say anything. Part of him was surprised that you had said yes, he had been expecting you to come to your senses and realize he had only said no to protect you. Letting go of your chin he reached for your hand, pulling you up from the couch as he led you to his bedroom.

You were quiet as you trailed after him. 

This was what you wanted. Sure, you were wearing a ratty sweatshirt and your face was puffy from hours of crying. And you may have been wearing your least appealing bra and underwear, but none of that mattered you told yourself. It didn't matter what you looked like or where you were or what you wearing. All that mattered was that you were ready and you were with someone you trusted. And both of those things were true with Bucky. Soon you'd be rid of your virginity and you could move on with your life. At least that's what you tried to tell yourself as you struggled to ignore the little voice in the back of your mind telling you this was a bad idea.

So lost in your head you gasped in surprise when you felt your back make contact with Bucky's bed. You weren't given a chance to fully catch up because the next thing you noticed were Bucky's lips on yours, his body hovering over you, one hand gripping tightly to your waist while the other cupped your cheek, tilting your head just so. His lips moved over yours with a passion you weren't quite accustomed to. It was intoxicating and overwhelming and you couldn't stop the whimper that escaped when you felt his tongue slipping past your parted lips.

This wasn't the first time you and Bucky had kissed. When you guys were teenagers you had shared chaste kisses during games of spin the bottle and truth or dare. Those kisses had been sweet and short. And once or twice you guys had shared tipsy kisses on New Years Eve.

This kiss was something else entirely. It was hot and rough and it left you feeling dizzy and breathless and confused. You struggled to catch your breath once Bucky pulled back, but you weren't given a chance when you felt his teeth nipping at your bottom lip, his tongue swiping to soothe the slight stinging. Your brain was working overtime to catch up to all the new sensations and when you felt his fingers dip under the hem of your sweatshirt you knew you had to slow things down.

"B-Bucky," you gasped, struggling to get his name out in between kisses. 

It was so hard to focus on slowing down when you could feel his fingers inching up your stomach. His touch was gentle so different from what your ex boyfriend had been like. God, here you were making out with Bucky, getting ready to sleep with him and all you could think about was your ex boyfriend. Maybe Bucky had a point and tonight wasn't the right night. After all how were you supposed to be present and focus on losing your virginity when you couldn't stop thinking about your ex? This night just continued to turn into a disaster.

Bucky groaned when he heard his name tumble from your lips in a breathy gasp. Fuck. This wasn't how this night was supposed to turn out. He had expected you to back out by now, to realize that you weren't ready for this he did not expect you to be moaning his name and letting out these breathy little whimpers that were making him grow hard. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He had meant what he said earlier, he wasn't going to take advantage of you like this. No matter how good all of this felt. His ma had raised him better than that.

His fingers continued to inch higher and the feeling was enough to bring you back to your senses albeit slowly. It took a couple more minutes for the hazy fog to clear from your mind and when it did you pulled your kiss stained lips away from his, your chest rising and falling as you struggled to catch your breath. 

"B-Bucky stop,” you gasped.

"Having second thoughts, sweetheart? Thought you wanted to do this tonight?" Bucky asked. 

There was a smugness to his voice that pissed you off and had you narrowing your eyes, not that he could see given it was still dark in his room. Sliding his hand out from underneath your sweatshirt he rolled off of you, reaching over to his bedside table he flipped a light on bathing the room in a soft yellow glow. His blue grey eyes drank in your appearance. Your sweatshirt was twisted and crumpled around your body, your lips were plump and kiss stained and he couldn't take his eyes off of you.

“I did. I do. I just...” You said, your voice shaking as you struggled to keep it together. Running a hand through your hair you struggled to gather your racing thoughts.

As hard as you tried not to think about it you could still taste him on your lips. The taste of bitter beer and pizza. You could still feel his hand gripping onto your hip. Could hear the way his breath had hitched when his name came tumbling out of your lips.

None of those thoughts were helping to clear up the confusion you were feeling. His words echoed in your mind and you struggled to figure out how you guys had ended up here. Yes, you had been the one to ask him to sleep with you. And yes he had been the one who had initially turned you down saying he hadn’t wanted to take advantage of you. But... that didn’t explain the turn of events that had led the two of you to his darkened bedroom to make out. And it certainly didn’t explain why he was sitting next to you with a smug look on his face when you had been the one to put a stop to things.

“James,” you started. His first name spilling from your lips sounded foreign to your own ears. The only times you called him that was when you were mad or you wanted to annoy him. Glancing over at him you watched him swallow, a sheepish look adorning his features and you narrowed your eyes at him. “You wanna explain what the hell you’re doing?” Your tone was icy and not for the first time that night did you wish you had just stayed home.

“I didn’t think you were gonna follow me,” he mumbled under his breath. 

He was so screwed. What had seemed like such a foolproof plan earlier had blown up in his face and he was now left struggling to explain his actions to you. Running a hand over his face he let out a deep breath. 

“I knew you weren’t ready to have sex tonight and I tried telling you that Y/N, but you didn’t listen. I thought if I agreed you’d chicken out before we even made it to the bedroom.”

“So... so you... Jesus, Bucky!” You yelled. The confusion you felt earlier was turning to anger as his words rang in your ears and you put the pieces together. “So what were you going to do if I hadn’t stopped? Sleep with me even though you were the one who said you weren’t going to because you didn’t want to take advantage of me?”

“What? No! Y/N come on you know I wouldn’t have let it get to that,” he tried to explain. “I fucked up, okay? I thought I was doin’ the right thing. You weren’t listening to me and I couldn’t stand to see you so upset over that fuckin’ asshole.”

Reaching across the bed for your hands Bucky sighed when you pulled away from his touch.

Your head was spinning as you got off his bed, your feet moving across his floor as you paced back and forth. 

“No. No,” you said again. 

You were getting more and more angry as the seconds ticked past. Angry at your ex, angry at Bucky, angry at yourself, angry at the world and society. Stopping your pacing you turned to him lifting an accusatory finger in his direction. Tears were threatening to spill from your eyes again and you were angry about that too. How much more could you really have left to cry? The answer was a lot as the tears you tried so hard to hold back began to fall down your warm cheeks. 

“Don’t you dare James Buchanan Barnes,” you yelled, his full name spewing from your lips in anger and frustration. “You do not get to tell me when I’m ready to have sex or not. That is not your fucking decision. Do you understand me? You had no right to tell me you weren’t gonna sleep with me and then two minutes later change your fucking mind and say okay and drag me into your room and... and make out with me only then to change your mind again in some sick game you’re playing to get me to realize I wasn’t ready in the first place. God, Bucky do you realize how fucked up that this? I-I...”

“Y/N,” Bucky whispered softly. He had never seen you like this before. Sure, he had seen you angry and upset, but nothing like this. You were standing in the middle of his room as violent sobs racked your body. You were a mess and he was at least partly to blame for it.

In a flash he was up and off the bed as he wrapped his arms around you. Fighting against his touch you attempted to shove him away, your fists slamming against his hard chest as the tears continued to fall and you yelled at him not to touch you, but all Bucky did was wrap his arms tighter around you. Soft ‘it’s okays’ and ‘I’ve got yous’ spilling from his lips.

“I hate you,” you sobbed, “And I hate him so fucking much.”

Bucky didn’t say anything. There was nothing he could say to make you feel better. He knew he had to let you get this out of your system, that this was what you needed. And when he felt your knees start to give out he caught you and carried you back to his bed. His hands never strayed far from your body, his lips pressing delicate kisses to the top of your head, your forehead, your cheeks, the shell of your ear in between hushed murmurs of ‘I’m sorrys’ and ‘it’s gonna be okays’ and ‘I’m here ‘I’m not going anywhere  Y/N.’

The combination of Bucky’s quiet voice and the feeling of his hand rubbing small circles against your back began to bring you back down. Exhaustion wracked your body. All you wanted to do was fall asleep and forget about this night and your ex and the past week. Better yet you wish you had a time machine so that you had never met him in the first place. Your eyes stung from the near constant crying you had done and your throat felt scratchy. Sniffling you curled your body against Bucky’s. You were still pissed at him, but he was familiar, comforting and that was all you wanted right now.

“It’s gonna be okay, Y/N, I promise. ‘M gonna make this better. ‘M gonna fix this.”

Your eyes drifted shut as sleep settled over your exhausted body.

[ohwereusingourmadeupnames]

It’s This Jealousy 

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Rating: Mature (M) Notes: I got tagged in this post right here by @starkerscoop and couldn’t pass up the opportunity to get my hands on it. It got a little smutty at the end - hope you don’t mind! (& @send-me-your-hcs asked for a tag, too!)  Warnings: masturbation  Summary: 

It's this jealousy Oh, and I just can't believe In this jealousy This jealousy for you

At the ripe age of 49, Tony never imagined he’d be best friends with an 18-year-old. After all the mess with Steve and Bucky, things were a little strained between Rhodey and Tony. It wasn’t anything personal, there were just lots of things between them now, the leg braces he worked constantly to improve not even close to the only thing. With Peter, Tony could simply be. Their shared history wasn’t filled with anything other than a little tension and some misplaced control on Tony’s part.

The more Tony started to see Peter as the intelligent person he was and not the kid he always made him out to be, the more he wanted to have the younger man around. There was something in the way he tilted his head to ask questions and babbled incessantly that Tony just felt drawn to. Try as he might, there was no escaping the magnetic pull that drew him more towards Peter every single day.

It wasn’t subtle, either – the way they just seemed to fit. Peter moved into Avenger’s tower after graduating; the transition from part time to full time was and easy one, he fit right in with everyone – especially Tony. It didn’t take long for the two of them to break off and head for the lab together or be found in the living room pressed together from shoulder to hip talking quietly amongst themselves.

If someone was looking for Tony, they always pointed him in Peter’s direction. There weren’t many times throughout the day that they weren’t together. Tony appreciated Peter’s brain – he thought from all angles and wasn’t afraid to be wrong. There were many times when Peter taught Tony something new or made him go back and look at things from a totally different perspective.

Just the other day, Tony sat with his head in his hands, the nanotech and its housing unit he’d been trying to manipulate for the last hour sitting uselessly on the desk. A soft touch on his shoulder had him looking up, a smile overtaking his face for the first time all day. “Hey, kid,” Tony said in greeting, his hand coming up to hold Peter’s to his shoulder for a moment. “Training go well?”

He’d been trying to update his suit, so he stepped out of the group training for the day. The transition from the mechanism on his chest to the full suit was still too slow – he needed at least another second off of the total time. The headache didn’t seem worth it at that point, though – he should have worked the frustrations out. His head ached and he wanted to pull the freshly showered Peter Parker closer to him more than usual.

When Tony let go of Peter’s hand, he was surprised to find that Peter didn’t move his hand from its place on his shoulder. In fact, the fingers there dug in, the tips moving up and down the line of muscle. He tried not to move – the last thing he wanted to do was scare the kid away; the touch felt amazing. It was almost enough to make the collection of useless tech below him not matter. Almost.

“It did – the new adjustments you made to the aiming system did a world of good. I was moving so fast today,” Peter answered, his voice excited. Tony forced himself to settle on the slightest flash of a smile – Peter loved being a superhero, it was so insanely obvious. More often times than not, Tony found himself working on Peter’s suit just to see the astonishing smile on his face – the very one that was beaming back at him right now.

Tony picked up the small screwdriver he’d been using to mess with the back paneling, his face burning a little from the rush of affection that washed over him. It didn’t make sense, feeling like a schoolboy with a crush. But he couldn’t help it – Peter was so wholesome and filled with excitability and life; it was hard not to be drawn to it. “Bummed I missed it. I’ll pull the data from EDITH later – we can do a little data spec. I’ll see it in real time that way.”

He heard Peter suck in a breath, then saw the smile on his face grow wider. “That sounds like a good idea. I also brought some new ideas for the next evolution of web fluid. I’m so close to a breakthrough.” He went about taking his StarkPad and old-fashioned spiral notebook out of his backpack, excitement written all over his face.

Sitting down next to him (instead of across from him like not too long ago) Peter leaned into Tony’s space, looking over his shoulder. “I don’t think it’s this,” Peter remarked, pointing to the external structure. “The adjustments you made on the shooters was in the programming. I don’t think it’s a mass thing, either. I think it’s in the transition.” To Tony’s surprise, he opened his notebook and pointed to a couple different equations. “I ran these this morning when I saw what you were looking at yesterday.”

Peter’s cheeks were red, and his body radiated the kind of heat that shouldn’t have been natural. It made his entire right side warm, the bare skin of his forearms prickling from the contact. Letting his eyes roam over the work, Tony leaned into him – an arm wrapping around his shoulder. “This is good stuff, Pete. I think I know exactly where to go now.” He kept his arm there for a few minutes, the two of them still lightly discussing the numbers and what brought Peter down that path.

A week later, his suit was ruining faster than ever before. Every time he punched the mechanism and the nanotech did its thing, Tony felt a warm drip of pride in the middle of his core – the little bits of attraction he’d been trying to hide getting harder and harder to ignore.

Especially because Peter seemed to think that their friendship came with an all access pass – to him, to the never-ending stream of thoughts that ran through his head, hell, to Tony’s things. Many times, he’d come back from a meeting and find Peter passed out on the edge of his bed, the huge TV dialed in to some anime show he couldn’t force himself to get into. He never did anything about it – how could he? Most of his daydreams revolved around that very instance.

After a few weeks, Peter started to talk – like, really talk. He started with the story of how his parents died and the struggle it was to get used to living with May and Ben. Peter talked about the things he missed because he didn’t have parents in his life, no matter how much his aunt and uncle tried. 

The more time they spent together, the more Peter let himself be free with his words. Tony knew what type of shampoo he preferred, how many times May walked in on him naked or unclothed, and all the different fanfictions currently all the rage.

They were close – plain and simple. There were a few times when their closeness seemed like it might be something else, but neither man acted upon it. Tony didn’t want to apply undue pressure to a situation that only few people his age were interested in. He didn’t know much about Peter’s thoughts on that matter – it was the one thing they didn’t talk about.

MJ quickly became a topic that strictly stayed in the friend pile, Peter’s interest in her weaning significantly after some sort of mishap during their trip to Europe.

Tony spent most of his time holed up in his bedroom the entire week Peter was gone, his mind and body exhausted from all the work he managed to get done in the comfort of his king-sized bed. He didn’t talk to anyone, Tony keenly aware that his behavior was not appropriate for an almost 50-year-old person.

He could never admit that Peter coming back was the best day of the entire summer – the two of them quickly catching up on his use of EDITH and the different aspects of the new suit he wanted to start working on for his patrols back in the city. It seemed like nothing changed between them – but relationships or anything related weren’t brought up again.

The idea that he wasn’t approachable in that area made his jaw clench. His history didn’t lend itself to a positive image, he could admit that. There were a few years when things were so out of whack that only going from one thing to the next could satisfy him. After the cave, Tony figured the person closest to him when he got back was the answer. The try he applied to his relationship with Pepper wasn’t lacking, they were simply better off as friends.

It smarted a little – how perceptive Peter was. If the reason he didn’t approach Tony was because of his past, he couldn’t begrudge Peter one single bit. The kid was smart and understood that bad habits weren’t to be repeated. Too bad Tony’s history wasn’t anything like the way he currently felt and thought.

----

Walking into the kitchen in the common area of the tower, Tony quirked a brow at the congregation of Steve Rogers, Wanda, Bucky, and Peter – they all looked up at him when they realized he was in the room. Peter’s cheeks colored, his eyes drifting down to the hands knit together in front of him. The rest of the adults at the table were looking at him with looks of curiosity and interest – Tony almost certain he could feel Wanda picking around in his brain, or something.

“Tony!” Peter exclaimed, one of his hands moving quickly to cover his mouth. It would have been comical if Tony didn’t know the kid so well. Peter didn’t do so well with lying or bending the truth – his face and expressive eyes gave him away. Staring at him now, Tony wondered what kind of snake pit he walked into. He gave the group a swift nod but didn’t stop to join them – he didn’t need spider senses to understand the prickly sensation on the back of his neck.

He was quick to get the hell out of dodge, a water bottle in his hand – the thought of making a sandwich quickly abandoned when all of the eyes in the room followed his every movement. Settling onto the couch, Tony put a random Netflix show on and turned up the volume – his ears ringing from the overdrive of his thoughts. Whatever they were talking about, he suspected it might have something to do with him.

It didn’t stay a mystery long. Tony saw Steve approaching him from the laid-back position he let himself curl into on the couch. Queer Eye sucked him in, so he let his brain check out, his body relaxing with the rest of him. The second he saw Steve, though, he sat up – the prickly sensation returning to his skin. He felt like he might throw up all over his fancy shoes, the thought that maybe throwing up would be a little less painful than whatever Steve might have to say crossed his mind.

“So – “ Steve started, his arms folding across his chest as he settled into the empty part of the couch. “I had a surprising conversation with Peter. Or well, he asked some surprising questions. Are things okay between the two of you?” Steve’s voice sounded a little patronizing – the big brother act something Tony could never get behind. At least he was here talking to him, though – it didn’t seem right to begrudge him that.

“What are you talking about, Rogers? I don’t know what kind of questions he asked you to know what you’re referring to. The last time I saw Peter, he was smiling over a beaker of web fluid.” Tony pressed himself against the side of the couch, the softness of it aggravating. In that moment, he wanted weight – something to ground him to this weird conversation.

In another life, Tony would’ve appreciated the tilt of Steve’s head, the curious look in his eye not the worst thing to look at. He knew what it was like to take on Bucky, though – he’d never win that fight alone. Shaking his head of the thought, he focused on Steve and the words it seemed he was trying to find. “He was asking about pleasuring himself. We all assumed you two were good in that department.”

Tony sucked in a breath, his eye bulging. “Pleasuring himself – what? Steve, we’re not together.” The words felt weird coming out of his mouth, like they were trying their hardest to cling to the surface of his tongue and not be spoken; speaking them made it true. Running a hand through his hair, Tony wished that the couch would open up and swallow him whole.

The emotions that swarmed around him made it hard to pay attention to anything else Steve said – his head nodding, but his brain not really processing anything. All he could think about was the fact that Peter went to Steve Rogers of all people to ask about the most personal of matters. Tony was good enough for everything except carnality – what a joy that was to learn. Without much thought, Tony got up, not really giving two shits about the still talking Steve gaping at him from the couch.

He took refuge in the lab – the sight and smell of familiar things enough to calm him down slightly. “FRIDAY, play some classic rock, will you? KISS, maybe.” Tony said absentmindedly – music would drown out the bottomless pit of things that only made him angry. His understanding of how irrational it was to be as angry and jealous and upset about something that wasn’t even his business made it all a little worse.

A whoosh of the door opening a little while later brought Tony out of the trance that he blissfully slipped into. Not thinking was a lot better than the war of emotions that threatened to consume him. His eyes caught Peter’s, his exterior softening for a second – his presence was soothing, even now.

Remembering Steve’s mistake and the weird feeling of betrayal, Tony lowered his eyes quickly – it would take ignoring the soft look in Peter’s eye to keep firm to his resolve to be mad.

“Tony – I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” Peter approached him like one would a wounded animal, slowly and with caution. He wondered if Steve was supposed to tell Tony about Peter’s questions – if he was betraying the kid’s trust to set the record straight. His blood felt like it was boiling – the direction of his thoughts not very productive in deactivating the bomb that was ticking down, each second a little closer to explosion.

He felt himself huff out a sarcastic laugh, his emotions getting the best of him. “Well, you found me. Now what?” Tony’s voice was harder than he ever wanted to use towards Peter – the pitch of it sending a shiver of shame down his spine. The subtle change in the room wasn’t missed – so he let the feeling take hold; what did he really have to lose?

“What? Tony, I – “ Peter spluttered, words not coming despite his demand for them.

“You what? You’ve told me your entire life story, every little intimate detail, but you seek out Steve Rogers for sex advice? I don’t get you, Peter – a little piece of me is licking a wound. It kind of feels a little like betrayal.” Tony inwardly cringed, his own desperation so very evident. The dam inside of him was broken – there seemed to really be no going back. “I’m good enough for everything but this?”

Peter’s face fell, his usually bright eyes clouded over by confusion that was swiftly mixing with hurt – it pained Tony on a molecular level, seeing that gorgeous face anything but radiant with happiness. “Steve’s such an asshole,” Peter muttered, his eyes dropping to the floor. Tony wanted to pick Peter’s head up and rub his cheeks until the red hue and shine came back to his face.

“I didn’t come to you because you’re the one driving me crazy – I’ve been so on edge around you and I can’t – there hasn’t been any relief. I thought I’d ask people who are just as souped up as me about it. I thought maybe there was something wrong with me,” Peter admitted quietly, his eyes peeking up to gauge the look on Tony’s face.

Shaking his head, Tony cursed himself for not being the stonewalled person he made himself out to be. The cracks in his armor were ones he couldn’t buff out – no matter how hard he tried. Words he longed to hear sat on his skin, his body trying to decide how to process the stimulus of actually getting the thing he wanted the most.

The few steps it took to close the gap between them felt like miles – Tony couldn’t get his hands on Peter fast enough. “I’m driving you crazy?” Tony mumbled; his hands grabbing Peter’s hips. “You walk into the room and I’m completely lost. I’ve thought about bending you over every one of these tables – kissing you breathless against the damn fridge you lean into and search for food that isn’t there.”

Peter wrapped his arms around Tony’s neck, his enhanced strength pulling Tony against him before he knew what happened. There wasn’t any space left between them, their noses brushing with every hitch of breath either man took. “You’re my best friend, Pete – I haven’t wanted to fuck that up.”

Their lips touched then, both of them leaning in to close the distance. Tony’s fingers clenched, the hold on Peter’s hips tightening. The t-shirt Peter was wearing rode up a little, a bare stripe of skin available for his fingers to touch. At first brush, the body against him squirmed, Peter pulling away to let out a soft gasp. “Fuck!” Peter grunted out, his eyes clenching closed.

Tony watched Peter’s reaction, a rush of heat collecting in the boiling pit of his stomach – his cock throbbed against the zipper of his jeans. He’d thought a lot about what Peter would look like in the throes of passion – the sight was exponentially better than anything his brain could dream up. The flush on his cheeks made them seem fuller, the globe of them looking tasty enough to pull into his mouth. Glazed eyes and a hanging jaw had Tony moving – his lips desperate to be pressed against Peter’s once again.

“We should move this elsewhere,” Peter babbled against Tony’s lips, his fingers fisted in the front of Tony’s shirt. “I want to feel your skin, Tony.” His hands were uselessly tugging at the buttons, the fabric of it starting to tear with the force of his grip.

Groaning, Tony forced himself to take a couple of steps out of Peter’s grip completely. It would take too many brain cells to get to the elevator and up to the floor his rooms were on if he were still anyway attached to Peter – his hands achy to touch, to finally feel the thrum of Peter’s heartbeat pulsing in his veins.

“After you,” Tony mumbled, his chest heaving as he watched Peter walk in front of him, the articulation of his step hitched a bit from the stiffness in his pants. His steps were quick and the view from behind was nice – a good enough distraction to get him from the lab, into the elevator, and then down the hall where he grabbed Peter’s hand and pulled him along.

The slamming of the door in his bedroom was more satisfying than he figured something small like that had the right to be. Peter’s breath hitched when Tony’s eager fingers slipped under the edge of the soft t-shirt covering the long limbs he’d been thinking about for months. It got caught on Peter’s ear as Tony pulled it off, both of them laughing. “I can’t believe this is happening,” Peter admitted, pupils blown wide.

Tony grinned, the tips of his fingers trailing down the hard planes of Peter’s sides – “It’s real – I’m real,” Tony answered, his hand grabbing Peter’s and placing it over the hardness trying to escape the confines of his jeans. “That’s for you.” He let a chuckle slip, the reaction of Peter’s hand tightening on his crotch surprising him.

They made quick work of clothes after that, Tony kissing him breathless between the unbuttoning of his shirt buttons and the fumbling it took to get shoes, pants, and briefs off. Peter ended up in the middle of the bed, Tony settled between his spread legs. “Touch yourself. Steve may be enhanced, but I know what it’s like to feel good,” Tony’s voice dropped, his eyes wandering over every single inch of Peter stretched out below him.

Peter didn’t wait to do what he said, long fingers wrapping around a thick erection before Tony even finished speaking. His grip was tight, Tony taking stock in the way he slid his hand from the head to the base, and the flick of his wrist on the upstroke. Dark eyelashes flickered, the edges of them just barely moving along the edge of Peter’s cheek.  

Without saying anything, Tony let the fingers of his right-hand trail along the inside of Peter’s thighs. He kept the touch light, the skin pebbling with his caress. “The best part of what you’re doing is the build-up. It starts with the littlest itch. You grasp on and try to itch, but the pressure you’re using isn’t enough,” Tony flattened his hand, his palm running down the front of Peter’s balls. They were slightly hairy and drawn up – the sheen of sweat on Peter’s skin telling him just how much Peter seemed to be enjoying the tease.

Gripping both of Peter’s balls in his hand, Tony gave a tug and rolled them between his fingers. “So, you grip a little harder and move your hand a little faster – it’s the sweet combination of pleasure-pain, the relief of almost curing the itch and the slightest dig of your fingernails into your skin.” Tony let his left-hand wrap around his own length, the tip completely drenched in precum.

Tony slipped his hand from Peter’s balls down his perineum and in between his cheeks, his finger tracing around the tight rim of his asshole. Peter’s hand was moving quickly over himself, his eyes wide as he tried to stave off an orgasm and catch every move of Tony’s hand that he could. “You should cum, Pete. Finally scratch that itch.” Tony’s finger pressed ever so slightly against the rim as he spoke, the tip barely slipping inside. “Cum, Pete.”

The clench of Peter’s muscles was almost enough to pull Tony over the edge with him – Peter’s hand was flying over his length, the start of his orgasm splashing against the bottom of his stomach, then pooling between the ab and pec complex up towards his chest. Tony’s name dripped from his lips, Peter’s free hand fumbling around until he grasped bare skin.

It took a couple more strokes for Tony to follow him over the edge, the sight of Peter’s cum coating his own stomach and the blissed-out expression on his face more than enough to fuel Tony’s fire for a long time to come.

Without much thought, Tony collapsed on Peter’s chest, their legs tangling. He didn’t care about the cum that smeared against his skin when he moved in to press a kiss to already swollen lips – Tony hoped to spend many days covered in Peter’s cum and sweat. Now that the dam was broken, there’d be no holding back the feelings he tried his best to keep under control.

Peter’s arms wrapped tightly around him, Tony feeling the boy’s sigh from his position against his chest. His skin was warm and slick – the softness of it a contrast that made Tony want to hunker down and be surrounded by it forever.