#what a good thing i wear a mask because two of my course mates are tested positive today because damn

[collecting--stardust]

This semester's summary: existential crisis, existential crisis, existential crisis

[my-castles-crumbling]

Three Hundred Takeout Coffees Later...

Help, I can't stop writing....

My take on a coffee shop AU- Sirius healing from his past while falling for Remus. Takes place over 300 days, 300 coffees. The lyric is from a Taylor Swift song, but that's it!

CW: healing from a past relationship, mentions of blood and injury but nothing horrible, vague mentions of past injury, mentions of past homophobia, mentions of past infidelity but not between Remus and Sirius

The numbers in the fic refer to the number of coffees/days that have passed.

--

1.

The late April air was stagnant as the bell of the coffee shop chimed nonthreateningly.

Sirius had chosen the shop because it was deserted- a random local place with no line and no chance of seeing someone he knew.

Normally, he liked socializing. He liked happening upon people who made him smile, whose eyes lit up with recognition and who asked him how he was.

But today, he would have run at the sight of someone he knew. Because to answer the question, “How are you?” was to break down in tears, to crumble beneath the hard mask he currently wore.

He wasn’t ready. Not yet.

So he chose anonymity and gambled on possibly getting shitty coffee, walking toward the counter with his eyes down.

“What can I get you?” asked the slightly-bored voice of the tall boy behind the counter.

“Erm..large iced caramel. Extra cream and sugar,” Sirius murmured, not caring about the sugar he was about to take in. He needed it.

A snort came from the counter finally made Sirius look up.

The boy behind the till was…beautiful. Tall, with golden skin and scars littering his face, his deep brown eyes bore into Sirius’s with an amused expression.

Collecting himself, Sirius scowled, “Does my coffee order entertain you?”

“Nah, mate,” the tall boy chuckled, tapping a few times at the screen and turning to make the coffee. “Just would’ve thought you took it black, is all. What with the jacket and everything.”

Sirius supposed that made sense. He was wearing a leather jacket covered in patches, his tight black jeans and band t-shirt hugging his lithe frame underneath. He probably didn’t look the type to get a sugary iced coffee. But sue him, he liked his vices. “I like sweet things,” he retorted, not even meaning to flirt.

The taller boy locked eyes with him for a moment before handing him the drink. “Enjoy, then,” he replied with a smirk.

It was only after a very flustered Sirius left the shop that he realized the boy hadn’t asked him to pay.

4.

He returned the next day, and the day after, telling himself that it was because the coffee was good. It wasn’t at all because of the boy making the coffee.

Of course, the boy making the coffee wasn’t there the next two times he came in, and he was almost ready to pronounce himself pathetic when, on the fourth day, he spotted him again.

He approached the till, trying to act casual and aloof, but failing spectacularly when the boy asked, “Something sweet, again?”

“Erm– yes,” Sirius nodded, fighting back a smile.

And this time, as the boy made the coffee, he commented, “Haven’t seen you around here before the other day. New to the area?”

“I just moved,” Sirius nodded. It wasn’t completely true- he had lived in the area before- he had just moved back. His heart beat a bit faster, thinking about the circumstances behind that move.

The boy gave a noise of acknowledgement. “Liking it so far?”

“More now,” Sirius answered before he could help himself.

But the boy just grinned and gave him his coffee, allowing Sirius to hand him the $5 he knew would more than cover it before leaving a bit red-faced.

14.

It became routine.

Sirius stopped in the shop every morning, no matter what he was doing, no matter what other plan he had, whether he had work or not. He discovered that the boy worked almost every morning, but couldn’t bring himself to ask his exact schedule. It seemed to vary. So he made sure to stop daily, just in case.

He didn’t tell anyone about his routine, because it seemed silly- thinking so much about someone whose name he didn’t even know. But of course, James found out.

James, his brother and best friend. James, who was far too nosy for his own good. James, who was currently laying next to Sirius in his bed, blabbering on about Lily and how lovely she was.

He’d only been living with James again for three weeks, and already he wanted to rip his head off.

Alright, no, it wasn’t that. James was truly his platonic soulmate and he’d rather die than harm a hair on his head. But he was truly insufferable at the present moment, and Sirius wanted to get up and get his damn coffee.

“Prongs!” he almost-yelled, cutting James off in the middle of ranting about just how perfect Lily’s eyebrows were. “Erm…how about a coffee, yeah?”

And James nodded agreeably, horribly chipper in the morning, accompanying Sirius along the now-familiar route to the shop.

The chiming of the bell now felt Pavlovian, as Sirius’s heart rate picked up at the sound. He tried not to crane his neck over the person currently at the counter ordering, but he failed, and met the beautiful chocolate-brown eyes of the boy behind the counter while on his tiptoes, almost falling down in embarrassment.

“Who’s that,” James asked unhelpfully, his voice far too loud, and Sirius wanted to bury his head in the trash can nearby.

But as they moved to the till, the boy smiled his beautiful smile, and Sirius was too busy being hypnotized to smack James for his obviousness.

“The usual?” the boy asked, and Sirius blushed at James’s gaping expression, nodding in response. “And for you?” he asked James, who gave an evil grin.

“Small hot chocolate,” James answered, smirking. “And your name, because Sirius, here, obviously has been keeping secrets.”

He blushed. The boy blushed, catching Sirius’s mortified expression before chuckling a bit and saying, “I’m Remus.”

Remus. Why did such an old-fashioned name suit him so much? It was beautiful. Perfect.

“That’s $7.12, Sirius and friend,” Remus murmured, glancing toward Sirius.

And damn, his name sounded like music on Remus’s lips.

James laughed for days about how Sirius dropped half the coins in his wallet on the floor before managing to pay for their drinks.

21.

Remus was gone for a week after that.

At first, Sirius chalked it up to days off, or maybe that he was coming in too early or too late.

But he got nervous after a while, scared that maybe James’s forwardness had scared the tall boy off. But enough to quit his job? Logically, that made no sense.

But he couldn’t stop thinking about it. Thinking about him.

James noticed how preoccupied he was and when he finally confessed to the reason, he reminded Sirius that vacations existed.

But he still worried.

And he was right to, he thought smugly, when he finally saw Remus a week later, leaning on a crutch to move about.

It was good the shop was empty besides the two of them, because Sirius burst out with, “Where were you?”

And Remus looked up from the machine he was leaning to disarm Sirius with a smile that left him weak in the knees. “Hello, Sirius. Unplanned vacation.”

Sirius then realized that it was not normal or polite to ask virtual strangers where they were at any point, let alone when they clearly had some sort of medical something happen. He blushed a bit. “Right. Erm…right,” he stuttered, nodding as Remus held up the cup for iced coffee with a questioning quirk of his eyebrows.

“Your friend seems nice,” Remus commented as he scooped ice into the cup. “Didn’t catch his name.”

“James,” Sirius said, still a bit abashed. He tried to collect himself. “He– he’s like my brother, really. I’ve known him since middle school. Live with him as a teenager. And I’m living with him now,” he trailed off, cursing himself for oversharing.

But Remus had stopped making the coffee and was looking at Sirius like he was really paying attention, like he cared. “Brothers,” he repeated with a smile. “That’s good.” He went back to making the coffee.

“Erm, yeah.”

“Here you are, Sirius.”

“Thanks, Remus.”

22.

There was a shift in their exchanges after that. They still made small talk, sure. But now, they would occasionally ask each other questions.

The next day, it was Remus who asked, “How’s James today?”

And Sirius replied, “He’s good. He’s got a date with this girl he’s mad about.”

And Remus smiled a bit and said, “Good for him. Wish him luck for me.

23.

The following day, Sirius asked, “Do you have siblings?”

To which Remus replied, “Does a childhood dog count?”

And they spent 30 minutes talking about the Doodle, Snuffles, who was still alive and running around at Remus’s mother's home in Wales. Sirius was very late for work that day.

24.

“Where are you from, then?” Remus asked as he slowly pumped caramel into a cup.

Sirius tensed a bit at the question. “London,” he answered softly, looking down. It was one of many sore subjects.

Remus was quiet for a minute. The only sounds were the machines in the shop. “Sirius, you know you don’t have to talk about things you don’t want to, right?” Remus asked.

He hadn’t really thought about that.

27.

Tornadoes in the UK were rare, but not impossible.

Which is how Sirius found himself scared half to death by his phone squawking at him loudly a he stepped into the shop a few days later.

Things had been good with Remus over the past few days- he’d become more comfortable, they’d exchanged questions and witty banter and dawdled much longer than necessary. He really thought maybe Remus enjoyed spending time with him.

Of course, now they were about to be forced into spending time together.

The Tornado warning went off loudly, making both of them jump as Sirius walked into the shop, which was (luckily) empty other than them. They both checked their phones to see the notice:

Tornado Warning in Your Area In Effect For The Next 30 Minutes. Seek Shelter Away From Windows and Doors.

Sirius looked around, laughing nervously. The whole shop was made of windows.

“Flip that sign to ‘Closed’ and come back here,” Remus ordered calmly.

Sirius followed his orders and followed Remus, who was still using a crutch to walk, to the back room of the shop, which was thankfully window- and door-less.

Knowing how to stay safe, they both sank down against a wall, Remus with a small grunt of pain.

“Cozy,” Sirius joked into the awkward silence.

Remus snorted. “Not how you expected your morning going?”

Without thinking, Sirius answered, “I just wanted to see you, so this isn't bad, really.”

Remus stared before giving him a smile. “And here I thought you came here to see Evan.”

Evan was the person who worked on the days Remus had off.

Sirius took the response as a good thing, and playfully smirked, “He’s not my type.”

Remus’s eyes widened by a fraction. “And…what is?”

For a moment, Sirius felt a spark of himself return. The personality he had before. “I told you when I met you, Remus. I like sweet things.”

The air seemed heavier. There was an electricity between them that both energized and scared Sirius. Remus leaned in. He almost leaned in, too. Almost.

But then he had the flash of a memory. Two bodies on a bed. Writhing. Walking in to see them there. The shock. The betrayal.

He pulled back instead.

Remus looked confused, but didn’t say anything.

Sirius felt like he owed him something. An explanation. A reason. Anything to prove that he did like him, but it was difficult.

So he chose to give him something a little easier.

“You….asked where I was from. I lived in London with my parents,” he murmured to Remus, who still looked puzzled. “They kicked me out when I was sixteen.”

Remus’s expression changed from bewilderment to wide-eyed compassion. “Sirius, you don’t-”

He took a deep breath. “I know. I know but…there’s a lot…a lot here,” he tried to explain, gesturing a bit stupidly to himself. “I’m a lot. So…” What was he trying to say? “I might be too much. For...for some people,” he breathed out, determinedly looking away from Remus, even as they were sat against the wall together.

But he felt Remus shrug next to him. “Simple is overrated.”

Sirius let out a breathy laugh.

34.

“When’s your break?” he nervously asked Remus after another week of light questions and smiles across counters.

“In ten minutes,” the taller boy grinned. “When Evan gets here.”

He waited.

They sat and talked, this time.

39.

“I think I really like him,” Sirius whispered to James one Friday night as they got plastered on Fireball and Tequila.

James surveyed him over the rim of a Red Solo Cup. “If he hurts you, I’ll kill him. I’ve broken my hand once punching an idiot who made you cry, I can do it again.”

Sirius felt his stomach lurch. He never wanted that to happen again.

41.

Sirius started arriving at the same time as Evan, now. Scheduling his shifts around the times he wanted to be at the shop. All so he and Remus could spend Remus’s fifteen-minute break together.

It was stupid. It was pathetic.

It was, hands down, the highlight of his day.

Talking with Remus felt so easy. He felt safe and comfortable. He felt happy.

42.

“They kicked me out because I’m gay.”

Sirius felt the need to make sure Remus knew, for absolute sure, that he was interested. That, even though he was messed up and working through a lot, he was, well, into blokes, and specifically into Remus. Of course, he hadn’t planned on saying it exactly like that.

But Remus looked at him with such understanding and murmured, “Fuck them. You don’t deserve that, Sirius.”

Sirius wanted to cry in his arms. He wanted to grab him, to pull him closer, to wrap his arms and legs around him and just sob. But he couldn’t, wouldn’t be that vulnerable, so instead he grabbed Remus’s hand lightly. “I don’t…I don’t deserve this…,” he murmured, voicing the thought that had eaten at him for weeks.

And Remus just looked at him and whispered, “You deserve everything.”

45.

“You haven’t asked me,” Remus said one day.

Sirius had the day off, which meant he was able to join Remus for lunch. A half hour of bliss.

“Asked you about what?” Sirius asked through a mouthful of muffin. It was blueberry, and even though the shop was out, Remus had saved it under the counter for him, knowing it was his favorite.

“The crutch. The scars.”

Sirius paused for a moment, then casually said, heart hammering in his throat, “Course I haven’t. I’m not a complete wanker.”

Remus snorted.

“Ouch.”

“I was in a car accident when I was small. I have a metal hip and knee. It acts up sometimes,” Remus explained softly, gesturing to his leg.

Sirius blinked, trying not to imagine kid-Remus in the excruciating pain that would have resulted from that sort of accident. “Fuck,” he forced out.

“Yeah. I almost died.”

Sirius found himself choked up, and looked away from Remus trying to process in a way that was normal and not at all clingy or irrationally emotional.

“Sirius? Are you okay?” Remus sounded so concerned, so nervous, that Sirius turned his head back, even though a tear escaped from his eye.

“Just– just don’t do that again, okay?” He asked.

“Wh– what? Almost die?”

“Yes.”

50.

He tried. Really, he did. But every time he got close to something more, something deeper, the image jumped back into his brain.

Fabian. On the bed. With some man. Moaning.

It had been the worst moment of his life.

He had been so sure, so completely convinced that Fabian was the one. He had pictured the wedding, the children, the life together.

Fabian, of course, had never wanted that.

He’d been inconsolable for weeks.

Sworn he never wanted love or marriage or kids. He would be single forever.

James had had to force him to move back in, if only to make sure he showered once a week.

And now…

Now, Remus.

Remus was everything Fabian wasn’t.

He was quiet. Sweet. Reassuring. Empathetic.

Fabian had been loud and brash and selfish and bold.

Sirius had thought he needed someone like Fabian. Someone like him. Someone to make life more unpredictable and exciting.

But he knew now that he needed someone like Remus. Someone to make him feel safe and reassured.

But what the fuck was he going to do about it?

“Tell him,” James urged Sirius as he drank his iced coffee and wailed about being too fucked up.

57.

It took him a week after that to get there. To bring it up. But he did.

They were sitting, again, and it spilled out of his mouth and Remus laughed about something entirely unrelated.

“I moved here because my…my ex cheated on me. I caught him in bed with someone else.”

It was like someone else was saying the words, with the cold, unattached way he spoke them.

And then he cried.

58.

They both took work off the next day, and spent the day together. Though neither called it a date, Sirius smiled to himself, knowing that was what it was. They walked through town holding hands and talking, heads close together, sharing a coffee they got from (“Don’t tell my boss, Sirius!”) Starbucks.

And when they stopped to sit at the park, Remus looked at Sirius for a moment, as if contemplating before murmuring, “Sirius…you know I…I would never do what Fabian did, right? If I…If we…I would never take you for granted like that.”

Their first kiss tasted of caramel and coffee and sunshine and tears and Sirius didn’t think anything had been better in his entire life.

73.

He’d been avoiding it for far too long, he knew. But that didn’t make him any less nervous.

Especially since James was being such a dick about it.

His excuses had run out and he stood in front of the shop, nervously shifting from foot to foot as James skipped up to the door.

“C’mon, wanker!” He yelled, throwing open the door.

Sirius walked in, still wishing he could crawl under a nearby car.

But when he did walk in, he was instantly calmed by one look from Remus.

Remus, who smiled at him like he was the only person on earth. Remus, who now called him ‘love’ and ‘baby’ and whispered comforting things in his ear when he got nervous. Remus, who had been his boyfriend for 14 days, now.

Fourteen days too long, as far as James was concerned, because he needed to give the “Potter seal of approval.”

“Coffee shop boy!” James screeched. “I have heard far too much about you!”

Sirius turned maroon. “Prongs, I swear to fucking God-”

“All good things, I hope?” Remus smiled, handing James a ready-made hot chocolate.

The look on James’s face was priceless. “Remus. Remus. RE. MUS. How did you know?”

Remus grinned and shrugged. “Anyone important to Sirius is important to me.”

James must have screamed with adoration.

Sirius very much felt like a third wheel after that.

107.

The next month felt like a dream. A dream that Sirius was terrified he would wake up from. Remus reassured him daily that he was here, that he wasn’t going anywhere, but still he worried.

Especially when Remus was a bloody idiot.

Because Remus insisted he needed no help, eleven on his bad days, which is how he ended up falling horrifically one morning as he limped (crutchless, Sirius was sure to add later) to get Sirius’s coffee.

And when he fell, he grabbed frantically for hold on something.

Of course, that something happened to be the cutting board. With the knife.

There had been blood, a lot of it, and Sirius had honestly been more panicked than Remus had. He’d never done well with blood, and it’d taken everything in him to not throw up as soon has he’d seen it.

What was worse, though, was when Remus was taken away in an ambulance (“Why did you call 999, love? I don’t need to go to the hospital, I just need a few stitches.”) he was told he couldn’t come, because he wasn’t family.

It had stung. It had angered him.

He had a full panic attack on the bloody floor of the shop, only to be found an hour later by a very confused Evan, who called James to come collect him.

108.

“I’m sorry I panicked,” he apologized into Remus’s shirt the next morning.

“I’m sorry I fell. I should’ve been using the crutch,” Remus said back quietly. "It just...I hate this sometimes, you know? I hate that I can't just- just-"

And Sirius consoled him, allowing Remus to cry into his shirt, leaving a wet spot there.

139.

The call came a month later. He was curled up on Remus’s couch, one of his new favorite spots, sipping at the coffee Remus had brought him from work.

Sirius’s phone buzzed.

He answered without thinking.

“Hello, darling,” the deep voice answered.

He almost threw the phone across the room.

It was as if Remus could sense his change in mood, squeezing his foot lightly as if to ask what was wrong.

Fabian, he mouthed to his boyfriend, who wrinkled his nose and lowered his eyebrows.

“What the fuck do you want?” Sirius asked, trying desperately to keep his voice even.

“To say I’m sorry. To get you to come home. I was so stupid, Sirius. Come home to me. All I want, all I need is you.”

And five months ago, Sirius would have died to hear those words. He would have come back to Fabian with tears and open arms. But now, all he said was, “Well, I don’t need you.”

And he moved close to Remus, who pulled him against him, murmuring how proud he was.

162.

The words came as a surprise to both of them. It had been a long day. He’d dealt with his insufferable boss and a scathing voicemail from his brother, and had accidentally overdrawn his bank account. He’d wanted to cry, and then Remus had shown up at his and James’s house with Legally Blonde on DVD and an extra large coffee.

“I love you so fucking much,” he murmured.

177.

“You scare me sometimes,” he whispered into Remus’s bare chest, sweat sticking to both of their bodies.

After working through a lot of his fears early on, the physical aspect of his relationship with Remus had been the most natural. They fit together in a way Sirius had never experienced with anyone else, man, woman, or otherwise. And Remus seemed to know how to make him fall apart with just a few gentle touches and words, sending Sirius spiraling in the best way.

But being with Remus was something better in a different way.

In past relationships, he had never been able to completely let go, to allow his brain to empty and to just be.

But Remus made him feel safe and cared for and wanted in a way he’d never felt before. It was freeing. It was beautiful. It was addicting.

It was terrifying.

“I scare you?” Remus parroted back, tracing lines along Sirius’s extremely sensitive thighs.

“You know me too well,” Sirius whispered, feeling the weight of his words.

“You deserve to be known.”

201.

They fought.

They fought about stupid things and important things.

They fought when Sirius shut down and pushed Remus away. They fought when Remus refused to allow Sirius to help him, even when he desperately needed it.

But they always made up.

“I won’t go to bed angry at you,” Sirius insisted, cleaning up the dishes and coffee cups from Remus kitchen, forcing him to talk, even when it was hard.

227.

“A key?” Sirius asked, unwrapping his birthday gift, looking questioningly at Remus.

“I…I know it’s soon,” Remus explained nervously, his breakfast and coffee untouched. “But I…Iove you, Sirius. I love being with you. Move in with me?”

He accidentally spilled the coffee on the floor in his haste to capture Remus’s lips with his own.

245.

“Come home for Christmas with me?”

“I would love to. Now pass me my coffee before I bite your head off.”

256.

Hope Lupin watched Remus and Sirius sit together on her couch, sipping the coffee she’d driven fifteen minutes for because fuck that local shit.

They were perfect. Her boy was happy. Her heart was full.

278.

Remus and James dodged snow flurries as they ran through the center of town toward a jewelry shop.

They gazed into the case at the rings, silent for a moment, taking in the importance of the occasion.

“That one? D’you…d’you think it’s okay?”

“It’s perfect, mate. Perfect.”

300.

Sirius stepped into the coffee shop hurriedly, late for work and grumpy. He’d gotten a call from James that his boss had called his house for some reason, still thinking Sirius lived there, insisting that he come in today, even though he’d been planning on catching up on some errands. So, he ran to grab coffee, pissed that he would have to skip Remus’s break.

He was so distracted he didn’t even look around the small shop, or he would have noticed James and Hope, hidden behind books.

But he did notice Remus, who threw him a signature smile. “Alright, baby?”

“I’m so sorry, Remus, I have to skip your break today. Work called me in,” Sirius grumbled angrily.

“That’s alright, love,” Remus reassured him, turning to make his coffee. “I’m sorry, that’s shite.”

“It really is. It’s–”

But he stopped. Because Remus handed him the coffee, and there, around the straw, was a fucking ring.

“Does this make it better?” Remus breathed, looking a bit fearful. “I know how you are about your coffee.”

“I–” He tried to stammer, but no words came.

“Is it alright if I don’t get down on one knee?” Remus asked, almost conversationally.

Sirius nodded mutely.

So Remus came around to Sirius’s side of the counter, grabbing his hand. “Did you know it’s been three hundred days since you first came into the shop? Three hundred fucking coffees,” he grinned, tears forming in his eyes. Sirius resisted the urge to sob. “I know this is really soon, but when you count it in coffees, I’d say that’s more than enough to know that I want you forever. That there’s nobody else by you.”

The words washed over Sirius, warming him from the outside in.

“I’ve known for a while that there’s nobody but you, Sirius. Would you…would you be willing to make it official? Marry me?” Remus’s voice sounded nervous at the end, as if Sirius would ever say no.

“That was so bloody romantic,” he heard James screech and as he nodded emphatically and pulled Remus to him in a kiss, ignoring the whoops and sobs coming from nearby.

-

And even on Halloween they all lived happily ever after, no matter what universe they were in.

Please come leave comments and kudos here because you love me?

[banannabethchase]

That Jeff Goldblum one...how do we think Lucha would react to Nick's thirsting?

1) Watching Jurassic Park and discussing Jeff Goldblum and that specific shirt he wears (we all know the one)

(you are THE WORST for this one HOW DID IT COME TO THIS IT WAS A JOKE)

~

In His DNA - also on AO3

~

Luchasaurus, it turns out, is a little jealous of the way Nick is lusting after Jeff Goldblum in That Shirt as they watch Jurassic Park.

~

You know the funny thing is I technically did this to myself by creating this prompt for Sarah.

Disclaimer: I don't know what Luchasaurus wrote his undergraduate thesis on, and I doubt it was on monastic same-sex intimacy, but mine was on gender presentation and the methods by which gender roles and expectations were subverted both in action and in the literature of the time, so we're pretending he did the same thing for the sake of authenticity.

Tittle from DNA by Little Mix.

~

It happens first when Jeff Goldblum shows up on the screen in the helicopter, Nick thinks. He shifts in his seat.

"Not into the movie?" Lucha asks, throwing his arm around Nick's shoulders again.

"I am," Nick says, almost too quickly. "Gonna see some of your relatives?"

Lucha laughs, almost darkly, and pulls Nick practically in his lap. Nick expects nudity within seconds, but Lucha turns his face back to the screen, focused. "Not quite," he says with a sigh. He moves Nick around on his lap like he weighs nothing, something that sends an interesting spark down into Nick's dick, but still, Lucha does nothing. Doesn't even try to cop a feel.

So Nick turns back to the screen. Lucha lets out a wistful sigh as the first dinosaur appears. Nick thinks, maybe, he understands it. He felt a similar way the first time he watched The Wrestler.

He squirms again when Jeff Goldblum starts saying, “Life, uh. Finds a way.”

“Jesus,” Lucha growls.

“Are you mad that I find Dr. Malcolm hot?!” Nick asks, incredulous. “Everyone thinks he’s hot!”

“He’s arrogant and his shirt is ridiculous.”

“He’s smart, not arrogant,” Nick says, settling back against Lucha’s chest. “And he looks good. With a chest like that, who wouldn’t show it off.”

“I like your chest,” Lucha says, nuzzling into Nick’s neck. Nick finds himself pulled down against Lucha, nothing but two tee shirts between skin, and he wants to grind down into Lucha’s lap, just a little, just to remind himself of what he might get later, if he’s nice. “And he’s nothing special, my little bird.”

“Oh, come on,” Nick says, because he will not stand for this Dr. Malcolm slander. “He’s the only one standing up to this rich guy! All of his arguments are right.”

"What, you think that's interesting?" Lucha asks. He grabs Nick's thigh and spins him so Nick has his back to the TV, thighs splayed across Luchasaurus' lap. "You like a man with his priorities in order and the guts to say what he means?”

"He's smart and hot," Nick says, trailing a fingertip down Lucha's face, down the mask. "What can I say, I have a type." He's sure to lick his lips, nice and slowly. "Intelligence turns me on."

"Want me to turn you on by talking about the imagery of Ganymede in 16th century monasteries as a representation of male-male intimacy?" Luchasaurus asks. "Or would you rather me talk about the archaeological progress made in the discoveries of dinosaur mating habits." He leans in, bites at Nick's neck.

"I think I know a whole lot about dinosaur mating habits," Nick manages, gasps caught in his throat as Lucha’s hand slides up his neck, circling him like a necklace. “Mm, like – like how some dinosaurs like to fuck their boyfriends over side of the couch.”

Lucha stills. “Boyfriends, huh?”

Nick processes what he’d just said. “Oh. Um.”

“Sure,” Lucha says. “I’ll be your boyfriend,” he laughs a little. “Long as you’ll still call me ‘Daddy’.”

“Yes, Daddy,” Nick says automatically. “Of course.”

Lucha hauls Nick up and throws him on his back onto the couch. “This was your plan all along, wasn’t it, little bird,” he growls.

“No, I really do like Jeff -”

Lucha dives down and kisses Nick so hard his brain spins, tongue in his mouth with single-minded determination. Nick keeps his legs hooked around Lucha’s waist, a thrill up his spine as he can feel Lucha’s hard cock rub up against his thigh. “You’re fucking insufferable.”

Nick barely gets a chance to blink before Lucha pulls his shirt off over his head then wraps a hand around Nick’s. He looks up to meet Nick’s eyes.

“Yeah,” Nick says, breathless, “yeah, I hate this shirt.”

Luchasaurus rips the shirt down the middle, and the rush of cold air on Nick’s bare skin is immediately quelled by the raging heat as Luchasaurus presses the two of them together. Nick’s hands fly to his Lucha’s belt and he pulls it out of the loops, pressing the heel of his palm to Luchasaurus’ erection.

Nick grins at the animal sound from Lucha’s lips.

“You be careful, or you’re gonna get more than you’re hoping for,” he says, leaning down and sucking a devastating bruise into Nick’s neck. He arches into it, desperate to connect their bodies in more places.

“Not possible, Daddy,” Nick says with a wink.

Lucha pulls away. Nick’s miserable for a second, then elated as Lucha grabs him by the hips and yanks him off the couch, turning him so he’s half draped over the arm.

“Gonna fuck that attitude right out of you,” Lucha growls. He yanks Nick’s pants down without a warning. “Wait right there. Don’t move.”

“I – what?”

Nick turns his head to see Luchasaurus staring him down. “I said don’t move.”

“S-sorry, Daddy,” Nick stammers, but he does everything he can not to grin. “I’ll be good.”

“I doubt that.”

Nick watches as Luchasaurus leaves the room, and he waits. And waits. It feels like hours, though, logically, he knows it’s no more than a few minutes. He feels vulnerable, jeans down by his ankles, as the anticipation builds. All he wants to do is call out, check in with Luchasaurus.

But Nick was told to be good. And, even if he can’t do it, he’ll try.

Finally, Luchasaurus walks back in the room, looking like a Greek god as he stands, naked, in the doorway. Nick’s mouth begins to water as he gets an eyeful of Lucha’s cock.

“Look at you, little bird,” Lucha says, walking to him slowly. Nick almost feels hunted, like the characters on the screen. “You did as you were told.” He reaches out and slides his hand into Nick’s hair, pulling it back, just a little. “Good boy.”

Nick lets out a wanton moan at that, unable to keep up the act anymore. He wants Lucha and he wants him now, and anything but that might tear him to pieces.

“So pretty,” Lucha says, and Nick feels Lucha’s cock slap against his ass. He wiggles back against it. “Oh, no, that’s not what I want to see right now.” He palms Nick’s ass. “Don’t rush, baby, wait.”

“Please?” Nick whimpers. “I don’t wanna wait.”

Luchasaurus laughs, directly in Nick’s ear. “You don’t want to,” he says, “but you will.”

Nick whimpers again, but he says nothing more, knowing he’ll get what he wants if he just waits. It feels impossible.

There’s a wet, slippery sound, then Nick feels thick, blunt fingers slide between his cheeks, and something damned near relief washes over him as he realizes what’s happening.

“Can I, little bird?” Lucha asks in Nick’s ear. “You don’t know how badly I want to be inside you right now.”

“Yes,” Nick hisses, pressing back against the fingers. “Please, yes. Fuck.”

“Oh,” Lucha says, amused. “You do swear.”

He slides his fingertip along the rim of Nick’s hole, then slowly works Nick open with slow pumps of his hand, adding another finger, then another, all while Nick wails in desperation.

“Please,” Nick gasps. “God, please, fuck me, Lucha, I need it.”

“Who do you want to fuck you?” Luchasaurus asks.

“Daddy, please,” Nick practically sobs.

“Okay,” Lucha murmurs, “because you asked so nicely.”

Nick falls against the couch as Lucha ever so gently pushes his way in, as he finds himself filled in the way he’s been aching for ever since he get to Lucha’s house. “Thank you,” he hears himself saying. He doesn’t mean to, but, then again, he never meant to fuck AEW’s resident dinosaur, but here he is.

“You’re so welcome, baby,” Luchasaurus says.

His thrusts are slow and deliberate, and pick up once Nick gets some of his bearings back, like Lucha knows when Nick needs to be taken apart.

Nick forgets how words work for a while, wanting to speak but not sure how, and sinks into the feeling, into the mind numbing bliss of getting railed into oblivion by – by his boyfriend.

He turns his head to see Jeff Goldblum, sweaty and shirt open, and laughs.

“What’s so funny?”

“Just,” Nick gasps, “Dr. Malcolm looks hot in this scene, you know?”

Lucha gets rougher, harder, slides a hand into Nick’s hair and pulls him back, just enough to get that kind of ache in Nick’s spine. “Yeah? You want him? You wish he was fucking you?”

“No,” Nick says, eyes fluttering shut. “Only – only you, Daddy, only want you.”

“Yeah,” Lucha mutters, gently lowering Nick back down so he can lean on his arms. “Only me.”

Nick’s close already, but the way Luchasaurus gently runs his hand down the middle of his back, a touch so tender it feels like a promise, gets him seconds away so fast it’s dizzying.

“Can – can I, Daddy?” Nick begs. “I need to.”

Luchasaurus pulls Nick’s hips back, pulls Nick so Lucha’s cock sinks so much deeper into him, then wraps a hand around Nick’s cock. Two strokes, that’s all it takes for Nick to come all over the couch with a cry so loud he’d be embarrassed if he wasn’t in heaven.

“Mine,” Luchasaurus growls, and he pulls Nick onto his cock and comes, deep inside Nick. He can feel it filling him up, and he twitches, overstimulated.

“Yours,” Nick promises.

Lucha’s always so gentle as he pulls out, as he scoops Nick up and settles him on the couch. “Hey, little bird,” Lucha says, caressing Nick’s face. “How are you?”

“Great,” Nick says, a little laugh following his words. “So great. I – yeah.” He beams at Luchasaurus. “You’re kinda hot when you’re jealous, you know that?”

“Jesus, you don’t learn, do you.” He leans in and kisses Nick forehead, though, so Nick thinks he’s probably not in trouble.

“Look, Dr. Malcolm is lounging all slutty,” Nick says with a grin.

“You’re insufferable.”

Nick shrugs. “Yeah, you said that already. Do you want to tell me more about that monastery thing?”

Luchasaurus pauses from where he was about to walk into the kitchen, probably to grab Nick a warm towel like always. “You – are you serious?”

Nick nods. “Yeah, that sounds kind of interesting, you know?”

Luchasaurus lights up. “Yeah!” he says. “I wrote my undergraduate these on the same-sex desire present in the architecture and literature around monasteries.”

Thus begins the weirdest pillow talk Nick’s ever experienced. Lucha takes Nick’s hand and walks him to the shower, and washes Nick’s hair with surprising zeal as he says words like Ganymede and Hellenistic and oblation. Nick shuts his eyes, letting it wash over him, and makes affirming noises whenever Luchasaurus pauses.

“I love the enthusiasm,” he mumbles as he starts to feel the exhaustion wash over him, “but I want to remind you I was homeschooled and wrestled instead of college.”

“That’s okay,” Luchasaurus says, pressing a kiss to the top of Nick’s wet and clean head, “thanks for listening.”

“I always like listening to you,” Nick says, and he leans back against Lucha with a giant yawn. “Maybe you can tell it like a bedtime story.”

“Yeah, little bird,” Lucha says, turning him. He leans down and kisses Nick so gently Nick nearly swoons. “I’ll tell it to you like a bedtime story.”

~

Mini Playlist DNA - Little Mix Animal - The Cab Inside of You - Hoobastank ...and the Jurassic Park Main Title - John Williams

Working titles: Jurassic Pork Life, Uh, Finds a Way Hold Onto (Nick's) Butt!

[yuzukult]

crush (teaser) || j.ww & reader/oc & l.sm

title: crush — part of the attacca series pairing: jeon wonwoo x fem!reader/oc x lee seokmin genre: angst, fluff, racing!au, street racing!au, formula 1 racing!au enemies!au (between sm & ww), unrequited love!au, love triangle!au wc: 1.8k / final wc: approx 20k-25k+ summary: you’re supposed to be seokmin’s endgame, but he’s prioritizing his dreams and late night escapades. so what do you do when someone new comes along and shows you that you could be the first on his list? warnings: profanity, explicit language, mentions of sex.  rating: ages 16+ due to mature content (but no sexual content). a/n: !! here’s the preview of my racing!au fic! hope you guys enjoy :D (pls note that there’s a gap between the two sections since i didn’t wanna give too much away!!)

Nose twitching, you cross your arms over your chest with a thermos in hand, housing your favorite coffee—the Folgers’ classic roast instant coffee crystals that melt the moment it meets with boiling hot water because you can’t be bothered to wait for the coffee machine to brew the grinds. Normally, you’d be able to smell the freshness of the caffeine, but instead, you’re met with the aroma of burnt rubber on the asphalt wafting underneath your nose. Of course, you shouldn’t have expected anything else—this only ever happens at the track.

To be quite fair, you should’ve been used to all of this by now. The zooming of the cars when they make laps around the track, the whiff of the smoke that spits out of the exhaust, and the crisp clicking that the high-powered impact wrench makes when it’s changing the four tires on the cars at a pit box. And yet, every time you’re here, it feels like an entirely new experience.

Truthfully, you don’t know if you love it here. There’s always too much going on during the races; the chaos on the track, the abundance of people at the bleachers who watch attentively with their favorites in mind, the hollering and screaming, occasional fight breakouts, and the obsession with the cars themselves is too much to handle. You already have a lot going on in your day job—why are you even here?

Oh, right. Because that driver over there—the one with the chestnut color hair, beaming bright smile, and contagious laugh with that cute little mark on his cheek—is your best friend. The one that you might be head over heels for since the beginning of time.

It’s a bit dramatic to introduce him like that, but it’s the only way your heart sees him. Helmet tucked underneath his arm, his loud yet saccharine guffaw fills the air as he exchanges words with one of his crew mates. You don’t know what that’s all about, but what you know is that he asked you to be here, claiming that you’re his ‘good luck charm’ of some sorts.

Whether or not that’s true, you’re still present.

Although you’ve voiced your feelings a handful of times, Lee Seokmin has made it clear: relationships aren’t his priority at the moment—his dreams are.

But, you remain by his side while wearing a blissfully oblivious mask, pretending like you don’t know about his late night escapades, where he meets women at the track and takes them out for drinks before inviting them back to his hotel room. Clubs, after parties, celebrations, tailgates—he’s encountered them through it all, but the only one he hasn’t brought back is you.

Mostly because he ‘treasures’ your relationship too much. You’re the type of person he’d take home to his mom, he says, not to a shoddy motel room right off the highway next to that gas station with the flickering vacancy sign.

And if this was someone else sharing their story, you would’ve told them to lose the guy and find someone worthwhile, someone who wouldn’t take their time for granted, and someone who would love them the way they deserved to be loved.

Unfortunately, this was you you were talking about here, and the only thing you are is delusional and clueless.

You choose to turn a blind eye when Seokmin is stumbling out of a club, shirt unbuttoned down to his chest, hooded gaze and slurring words with a girl underneath his arm with her skirt hitched nearly up to her upper thigh, breasts almost falling out of the cups of her top. Because even though he’s bringing her to his bed tonight, you hoped he’d bring you to your forever home one day.

You want to be his endgame—so if this is what it takes to get there, you’d suffer a little.

“You did good.” You grin, calling out to Seokmin who turns his attention to you. It seems like his smile gets wider at the sight of you walking down to where he’s stationed, wearing that sweatshirt he gave you last autumn with his car sewn in the pocket area and his name in the back. 

“You didn’t know what you were watching,” he chuckles, handing off his helmet over to his team. “You just sit in the stands and watch me diligently. Do that thing where you furrow your brows like you’re concentrating.”

You mimic the description by scrunching up your face. “I’m not even a fan of racing, you asked me to come here.”

He pats your head affectionately. “I know. And I’m thankful for that.” Your heart swells. It didn’t help that Seokmin was always like this, and because of that, he made it harder for you if you ever wanted to detach from him. He lures you in effortlessly, like you’re smitten from the aftermath of a love potion but it’s all because of that charming smile that he shoots your way and not Cupid’s arrow.

At the moment, it happens in the blink of an eye. The amount of anxiety that was churning through your stomach, and your heart racing at the speed of the cars on the track, you didn’t realize the mess you caught yourself in.

You agreed to go on a date with your best friend’s enemy.

But in all honesty, you didn’t think you’d be able to confront Wonwoo again and tell him that you couldn’t. He was so goddamn fucking charming, exhibiting manners that all the mothers around the world would praise him for. Anyone who would find out that you turned down a date with a guy like Wonwoo would probably give you an earful.

Then again, Seokmin might give you an earful. 

Maybe you won’t tell him.

It’s one date… right?

Plus, with Wonwoo being himself, there’s no way that Seokmin could actually be that annoyed with him. He spoke to Chan in such a respectful manner, treated him like a younger classmate, and even expressed how proud he was of him for getting to where he is now. There’s no way that Seokmin could actually hate Wonwoo on the track. Couldn’t be possible.

That is until you saw living proof right in front of you.

Seokmin is tempted; fists clamped shut at his side, you see him inhale in a deep breath that juts his chest out. His nose does a little spasm, irritated even though he attempts to hold himself back. “Go back to where you belong.”

You find yourself back in Seokmin’s pit, expecting him to do his frequent routine before he hopped into the vehicle. Instead, he’s standing right outside of his car, face to face with Jeon Wonwoo who remains calm, cool, and collected, paying no mind that Seokmin is just inches away from driving his fist into Wonwoo’s cheekbone. It’s enticing, but Seokmin knows he can’t do it in public with thousands of people watching.

“Come on, Dokyeom, I belong on the track.”

“Dokyeom?” You reiterate, head turning from Wonwoo to Seokmin. “Why’s he calling you Dokyeom?”

Seokmin doesn’t break his stare on Wonwoo. Jaw clenched, teeth gritting, he even sucks in his cheeks in the heat of the moment with his fists fully balled by his sides. The fury in his eyes were burning flames that you fear would somehow spread into reality and burn the arena down. “Wonwoo, I thought you said you’d stay out of my way.”

“I never said anything,” the other male says tranquilly, zipping up his navy blue racing overalls up to his neck. In comparison to Seokmin, Wonwoo doesn’t have as many sponsors other than for three companies that barely had any fame to their name. “All I said was that I didn’t know if I'd make it up here with the big dogs. And well, look at me. Livin’ the dream. You should be proud of me, Kyeom, not throwing a bitch fit.”

“You fucking lied.”

“Why’s it matter?” Wonwoo queries, tilting his head to the side in curiosity. “Are you nervous? I thought you didn’t get nervous. Is it ‘cause you finally found someone with the equal amount of skill here? You can’t win forever, Kyeom-ie. One of these days, you gotta be kicked off that goddamn pedestal. Not a hot look for you.”

“Alright, alright,” you interject, pushing Seokmin’s (or was it Dokyeom’s) chest back to prevent him from making the first swing. “It’s almost time to start and I’d rather have you both behind the wheel without a bruised eye.”

“The only fucking bitch leaving here with a bruised face is him,” Seokmin hisses, but his body loosens the tenseness when he feels your touch. “Get off my turf, Jeon Wonwoo. You don’t belong here.”

And just on time, his name is written in bright letters across the television screens surrounding the arena. 

JEON WONWOO, RACER NUMBER FIVE. 

With a cocky grin, Wonwoo crosses his arms as he glances up at his name displayed and back on Seokmin. “It looks like everyone here begs to differ. See you on the track, Kyeomie.”

With an exasperated scoff, he tosses his gloves onto the ground. Wonwoo doesn’t bat a lash or even sneak a glance at the turmoil he leaves behind, instead he waltzes his way to his crew members who don’t dress in uniform as Seokmin’s team did.

“That jackass,” he hisses. “Does he fucking understand that this place isn’t for him?”

“Why’d he call you Dokyeom?” It’s bold of you to ask a question in the middle of his tantrum, but you’ve been patient enough. “I thought your real name was Seokmin.”

For some reason, his anger subsides and a soft expression pulls on his features. “It was a nickname I had.”

“From what?”

“Don’t ask,” he says curtly. “You don’t need to know my past—all you need to be is here. You’re my lucky charm and I need you here so I can win.”

With that, he slips his helmet on, flipping down the shield to cover his face. Ever since Wonwoo’s name was brought up in conversations, Seokmin’s demeanor changes and he doesn’t feel right; he isn’t quite the same person as he used to be. There’s something about Wonwoo that irritates him, and although he incessantly states that it’s because he’s a street racer, you think there’s more than what he lets out to be.

As told, you sit in the bleachers patiently, legs pressed together anxiously with your thermos filled with your coffee in hand, watching as Seokmin climbs into the driver’s seat of his vehicle. 

Like you’re supposed to. 

As you’re asked to.

Just as you always do.

There’s always this part of you that wonders: Is it worth waiting for a guy like Seokmin to notice you in the way you see him? During those late nights, the ones where he doesn’t go off into the sunset with a pretty girl under his arm, he lays underneath the stars with you, and reminds you that you’re the person that he wants to settle down with. Seokmin says he sees the two of you, on the porch of your future home with a big lawn, kids running on the grass with screams and laughter, sharing nothing but love for each other.

But each time he walks away with someone who isn’t you, the wait becomes more of a struggle.

[alreadyblondenow]

Box of crayons

“We were just two kids back then, but now we have two kids.”

Pairing: Jaehyun x female!reader Genre: SMUT, FLUFF, angst if you squint, childhood friends to lovers, growing up au, college au, to being married. WC: 3,522k Warnings: mentions of getting bullied during kindergarten, alcohol consumption on a college party, getting drunk, swearing, spitting, oral sex: male and female receiving, slight cum play, overstimulation, fingering, cream pie, unprotected sex, switching positions, smut scene is kind of long. A/N: I just want to post something.

Meant to be. You and Jaehyun are meant to be. But not as lovers, at least not yet. For now, you believe that you and Jaehyun are meant to be best friends.

It all started when you saw him starring at his blank paper, close to tears while other kids are teasing him for not having a box of crayons. You came in bolting and scaring those kids with your wrath and told Jaehyun, “stop being such a loser,” and shared with him your box of crayons.

On the next day, you forgot your colors at home and you felt like such a loser because everyone was busy drawing and coloring their works while you’re stuck with this great idea in your mind for your artwork.

“Stop being such a loser,” Jaehyun said and sat beside you to share his box of colors with you this time.

That was the day you learned, at a very young age, that boxes of crayons that has a hundred colors are meant to be shared. You and Jaehyun became friends starting that day and your friendship became like a box of crayons that you’re willing to share with each other.

As long as you both have some colors left on your box, you’re willing to share and got each other’s back.

Your friendship grew and grew during kindergarten, grade school, and high school. Until your families acknowledged your friendship and thought that maybe someday you’ll end up together. On top of that, you and Jaehyun grew up together and watch each other achieve different kinds of great things. May it be through sports, academics, or your hobbies.

“Hey loser,” you sat beside him during lunch break and distract him from doing his assignment.

“Hey yourself” he smirked and continued writing.

It was a busy day in school, the student body organization was busy the whole week because of prom. And to be honest, you are too, you were busy with your dress and you were busy looking for the perfect tie for Jaehyun. And now, you’re just waiting for him to pop the question and finally ask you to prom, which he will because you’re best friend right? So that made you very excited and giddy.

“What do you think of Yeri?” He asked out of nowhere. Smiling and playing with his pen while waiting for your answer but you already felt nervous.

“Popular- She bullied you when we were kids? Why?” you answered short and cold. And you wonder why the man beside you is smiling like a fool.

“I’m taking her to prom, she said yes. It was yesterday in the library, I talked to her, and went straight to the point. I made her blush like crazy...” he proudly told you the story of how he asked someone else to prom but your ears started ringing and you can't hear anything he says already. Turns out when you were busy looking for the perfect tie for him yesterday, he was busy asking the girl he likes to prom.

Everything shifted after prom, you and Jaehyun stopped talking to each other but he was too busy with his new girlfriend to notice that.

Graduation came and summer took place, you and Jaehyun are going to the same college but now you’re not sure if he still wanted the same thing because rumors are he and Yeri are so in love that they will go to the same college. It's useless to reach out if life will eventually separate you and Jaehyun might as well accept it.

As you enter college and made great new friends, you forgot about Jaehyun and focus on your studies during freshman year. But during the start of your sophomore year and while you were at the library to borrow a few books you bumped into him and were forced to catch up and had coffee for old times sake. He paid for the drinks and snacks, obviously, he was happy to see you but you looked uninterested.

And when he noticed that he’s probably taking too much of your time, he finally started a conversation. “I transferred just this semester and I was actually looking forward to seeing you. How are you?”

“Great- look I have to study and I can’t be out this long, uhm...” you started to gather your stuff and ramble. “Maybe some other time Jae,” you said and left with a fake smile. You almost feel bad about what you did but he can’t just waltz back into your life like he didn’t forget about you the moment he had a girlfriend. Now ex-girlfriend.

And as your college years continue, a catch-up never happened again. Although he tried so many times to take you out, but you always refuse and avoid him with all your might whenever you see him around the campus. He was so consistent with bringing you back to his life but you just don’t care anymore because truth be told you were hurt when he left you. Maybe this is revenge? Maybe not? But one thing is for sure, you got hurt and you hated him for it.

Now that you’re in your senior and everything is very stressful, you decided to go to this party with your friends and you were so unlucky that Jaehyun was there with his set of friends, busy playing beer pong and being loud as fuck. Of course he saw you and it halted his moves, he wanted to come say hi to you or hand you a drink but you will for sure pretend that he is invisible so he didn’t.

The party was fun. Thankfully, there were a lot of snacks and overflowing alcoholic beverages as well as non-alcoholic beverages. And because you suck at drinking games, you were downing tequilas and vodkas the whole night and that’s how you got batshit drunk that Jaehyun found you on the bathroom inside the empty tub, sleeping like a baby with a red cup in your hand.

He knew right then and there that he is responsible for you.

“Y/n, it’s Jae. Can you walk?” he asked while patting your head softly. But you can’t talk right now, so you just shook your head ‘no’ and reached for him. You knew that it’s him and you can hear him perfectly but your brain is not working right and the room can’t stop spinning. And you can’t believe you’re saying this but you’re happy that he’s here to take care of you.

You had this same feeling when you forgot your crayons back then and he came to rescue you from your little situation. He’s the same Jaehyun after all.

He offered to drive you back to your dorm which you accepted without any argument, you could’ve thanked him if only you can talk properly. He was so concerned to you that he cleared the backseat of his car and let you lie there comfortably with his jacket covering your legs. And when he brought you to your dorm safely and in one piece, he can't just leave you sleeping with your dirty clothes and helped you clean yourself with closed eyes. Everything was a challenge for him, especially when he had to close his eyes before he removes your blouse, pants, unclasp your bra and make you wear something comfortable to sleep.

Jaehyun then pats your head softly and told you “I’ll get going then, good night” before he leaves and thankfully, you were quick to stop him and you had enough energy to tell him to stay. He smiled so big and felt so happy that he wanted to scream and jump around your room. But he controlled himself and removed his shoes before he lies beside you in your comfortable bed.

To his shock, you swing your arms around him and pulled him closer to you for a tight embrace that he eventually returned. Caressing your back as he melts to your embrace and enjoys the happiness that he’s feeling right now.

“I’m sorry,” he started and planted a kiss on your forehead.

“I missed you. Never hurt me again like that, Jaehyun I swear-“

“Shhh. I will never do that to you again,” he said and hummed a song oh so softly until you fall asleep together and meet in each other’s dreams.

Just as you thought that your friendship will never come back, it did and this time it came back with love. But even though that this time love is around to make you two stick together, you never admitted your feelings to each other. You just let your actions do the talking. From him holding your hand during a scary Netflix movie, to you holding his hand while he drives. It was a simple and comfortable ‘relationship’ and you wish he would make it official.

But during a beautiful rainy day when you and Jaehyun decided to stay at your place and enjoy the cold bed weather together instead of going to the movies... everything suddenly fell into place.  

“Mmm. Feels good” Jaehyun moaned as you concentrate on lining the face mask on his face properly. You’re sitting comfortably on top of him, your legs placed on both of his sides, while he’s leaning on your headboard with closed eyes, feeling so relaxed as you pamper him with skincare.

“Stop moaning, my dorm mates might think we're having sex,” you giggle and rake his hair away from his covered face. Holding it nicely as you lean closer to his chest to enjoy the comfort of being on top of him.

“Comfortable?” he asked and placed his hands on your back and made you lean on him completely. He started caressing your back and his soft touches are making you sleepy. You may not know, but he’s very much in love with you and that he will do everything just to keep you this time. He’s just waiting for the perfect time to admit his feelings to you and make everything official.

“Okay times up,” you excitedly said and started removing the face mask. While wiping his clear and handsome face, you see redness on his cheeks and his ears are turning red. You smiled and let out a giggle because that only means Jaehyun is flustered right now.

“Can you blame me? You’re so close to me and you’re literally on top of my dick. Don’t make fun of me if I get hard,” he said with a shy smile. Eyes turning into crescents and his cute dimples are deeper than ever. So instead of making him shy, you decided to make him nervous by grinding on him slowly but with enough pressure to make him in the mood and hard in no time.

His eyes went big when you rolled your hips once. Then it became even bigger when you rolled your hips a few times again which made him tensed up and hold his breath. “Stop it,” he said, but with a smile, that’s so big. He’s completely aware that you’re teasing him.

“But do you really want me to stop?” you said and put more effort into what you’re doing to him. Grinding slowly and deliciously, rolling your head and parting your lips. But the thing is, you’re not acting anymore. Jaehyun does feel so good right now and you’re liking what you started. And now that you’re letting out small moans, Jaehyun came close to you and caught your lips. Holding your head steady and kissing you like how he always wanted to.

“If you don’t stop now, I’ll really, really, really take advantage of this moment,” he said and went back to kissing you. A mixture of happiness and lust and you both feel like your hearts are about to burst because of what's happening right now. Kissing each other while smiling in between, kissing each other even more deeper by every second. It’s like your kisses were saying, ‘i love you’ ‘no, i love you more’. And as you two are busy with your lips, you felt Jaehyun’s hands slip inside your shirt and draw small circles on your skin while kissing as if he wanted you to lift your shirt but he’s just too shy to tell you. So without any warning, you stopped kissing him only to remove your shirt and remove your bra in front of him.

This may not be Jaehyun’s first time seeing a naked girl in front of him, but you sure did make him shy that he avoided looking at you. Flashing those dimples again, and witnessing his ears turn bright red. Brighter than ever. “Stop being shy and touch me,” you command and put your hand on his nape and reached for his other hand to place it on your shoulder. Giving him the freedom to touch you and roam his hand around your body as you continue to grind your clothed pussy on his hard dick.

Soon his hand finally started to move, touching your boobs first and kneading them slowly and carefully until Jaehyun became comfortable and confident to request that you remove your shorts too. Which you did gladly, so now you’re left with only your panties, kissing Jaehyun on the neck and making the man moan and feel good. Lifting his shirt without any hesitation and exposing his very hot body before your eyes and left kisses on it immediately.

Kisses after kisses you made him weak until you reach his sweat pants and pull it down together with his boxers brief so you can plant kisses on his happy trail, lower abdomen, and finally his hard cock. And there it is again, his handsome dimpled smile that shows his shyness. His cock twitched when your cold hands made contact with his cock, pumping it slowly while you watch him close his eyes and roll his head back. He watched you spit on his cock, and slowly put his whole size in your mouth. Gripping the sheets as he loses his mind, gripping the sheets as he breathes in and out heavily, letting out deep groans and making sweet moans.

“Y/n, s-stop. I’m about to cum,” he pleaded but you didn’t stop. Instead, you moved your head even faster, worked with your tongue, and made sure to never let him forget this moment that his whole cock is in your mouth for the first time.

After a few minutes of pleasure, Jaehyun came into your mouth and you witnessed him shaking and moaning on your bed with a satisfied smile. Still, with a sensitive body, you lay on top of him and teased him from cumming so soon. “You’re dead,” he said and smiled so sweetly at you. Encircling his arms around your body and kissing you a couple of times before he changed places with you. Finally, removing your panties and making you spread your legs for him, holding you with utmost care and kissing you with a mixture of love and lust.

If you tortured him earlier with your trail of kisses on his body, now it’s Jaehyun’s turn to torture you with him kissing your inner thighs oh so softly that it sends tingles straight to your spine and making your legs close automatically. “Uh-uh, I endured everything you did to me earlier,” he said, teasing you before he slides his fingers up and down your slit and finally licking it slowly. Spitting on your cunt just how you spit on his dick earlier and started pleasuring you with his hot tongue. Your hand automatically landed on his head, gripping his soft locks as he licks you slowly and torturing you with that damn wet muscle.

And when he finally made you cum and had his sweet revenge, he kissed you all over your body and put his entire weight on top of you. Letting your nipples brush on his chest and his hand soothe your sensitive body.

It was quiet for a moment, and only your heavy breaths can be heard in your room besides the air conditioning. He nibbles your earlobes and spreads kisses on your neck while slightly grinding his hard cock on your very wet pussy, waiting for you to calm down so he can finally fuck you.

“I was planning to take you out on a proper date first before we go to this stage. You just have to be so impatient, huh?” he shook his head in disbelief and kissed your lips again before he pulls away, putting both his hands on the sides of your head. His cock was very hard that you almost thought it wouldn’t fit, “Don’t worry you’re so wet. It will slide in easily” he said before he told you to line his cock so he can finally push in.

Slowly he stretches you out, rolling his head back and so are his eyes, while you on the other hand grip your boobs knead them as you feel Jaehyun’s cock slide in and out. “Jaehyun, deeper-“ you requested and let out a moan that made him gave in to your request. He adjusts your position, folded your knee before he spreads you open, thrusting deeper than before that his lower abdomen touches yours. Losing your mind whenever you take a peek at the motion of his hips while fucks you, Jaehyun was so hot as he moves his waist and kept his eyes only to you, this time he’s the one making you feel so shy.

“You like it this way? Deep and slow?" you only nod, “Wanna go another round after this?” you smiled and nod again, “Do you love me?”

And then he started thrusting faster and harder that your body was dragged on the mattress, and your boobs are bouncing up and down because of his hard thrust. Jaehyun came close to you for a kiss, still waiting for your answer. Although he knew already that you do love him by the way you kiss him, still he needed to hear it from you. “I want to hear it Y/n,” Jaehyun pleaded again and hold on to your waist tightly as he fucks you harder than before.

“I do Jae- fuck, slow down. Almost there” you croaked but its too late, Jaehyun’s thumb is on your clit, ready to torture you again and make you cum for the second time tonight.

Locking your legs around his waist as you enjoy your high and oversensitivity, you didn’t expect that you’d ask for more and beg for more the moment you hit your high that Jaehyun got more excited that he almost forgot to pull out. And when he did, he came on your pussy lips, watching his cum paint your wet folds and throbbing cunt. Of course the man above you isn’t satisfied with all the torture he did tonight, so he slides his fingers on your cunt, playing with his own cum and finger fucked you to give you another mind blowing orgasm.

The eventful bed weather ended with you and Jaehyun cuddling in your bed with his hands on your thigh and you’re wearing nothing but his black shirt and a pair of panties while he stays handsome and so irresistible in his boxers briefs.

“I promise to love you,” he whispered to you while drawing small and soft circles on your thighs, his eyes never left yours. “I promise to stay even though you’re so stubborn,” he added which made you giggle and happy.

FIVE YEARS LATER

During a very quiet night where Jaehyun’s hands are intertwined with yours and his embrace was tighter than ever because he was really tired from work, Jaehyun was having a cute dream. He dreamt about how you saved him from the bullies back when you were only innocent kids. He was smiling through his dream until he hears a cry. A cry of an infant and opened his eyes immediately. You stopped him from getting up and told him, “I got it Jae, go sleep. You’ve been up the whole day,”

Jaehyun has become a great provider for your small family now. And he was working hard to the bone that he barely gets enough sleep during weekdays. “Thank you,” murmured and closed his hands again. And after you put your babies to sleep again and went back to Jaehyun’s embrace, Jaehyun was deep in his sleep that he’s sleep talking and murmuring sweet nothings, the kind where you only hear whenever you have slow sex.  

“We were just two kids back then, but now we have two kids. I will buy them boxes of boxes of crayons so bullies will never touch them,”

You giggle and pulled him closer. Hoping that he will ramble more because he’s so cute right now. “I love you,” you said, you weren’t expecting something in return but he responded.

“I just realized I never thanked you for sharing your crayons with me back then, thank you” he said and opened his eyes and went on top of you to kiss you sincerely. His wife. “I love you”  

[missluckycharms]

can you do a imagine where y/n plays volleyball and she gets hurt and h take care of her?

A/N: hiii! I hope you like this! I also had to look up some details about volleyball as it’s not really that commonly played here in Ireland, if I say something wrong pls ignore it I tried my best. The vaccine is kicking my ass rn, I got my second dose so if this sucks and there’s mistakes pls ignore that also 😭 Enjoy !!

This is college!Harry and Y/N I hope you don’t mind !!

Warnings: talks of smut, strong language and Harry being a sarcastic loveable asshole.

Today was not Y/N day.

First of all, she woke up late, giving her only twenty minutes to get ready and make her way to college, which is usually a thirty minute drive without traffic. She was like a lightening bolt running through her apartment, falling over Harry’s shoes that were just abandoned around her room and trying to find any clean clothes as Harry came over last night and as usual, he distracted her from doing what she needed to do, which was her laundry.

He was asleep while she did all this, her small huffs and puffs picking up his shoes and throwing them into the corner didn’t even cause the lazy log in the bed to move once, his body tucked up under the covers as his face smushed against her purple sheets as he let out small snores, she looked at him and silently wished that was her. She was lucky she packed her gym bag last night before he arrived over, all of her clothes, her ankle braces, her knee pads and her favourite trainers she wears for games all packed into her bag and all she needed to do was pick it up and throw it into the trunk of her car along with her book bag.

She kissed Harry’s forehead and again, he did not even move, he may of given out a slight hum for a grumbled word but Y/N didn’t have time to contemplate what he said, she was rushing out the door wearing clothes that were probably Harry’s as the joggers were nearly falling off her as she ran. She didn’t care though, she needed to be in her first lecture or her grades would go down. She made it to campus with only thirty seconds to spare, she doesn’t know how she wasn’t pulled over for driving faster than the speed limit when she saw the campus come into view. Her body ran through the halls, dodging anyone in her way as she dragged herself to the lecture hall where her professor was probably already starting lesson, his usual morning introduction as everyone set up their laptops or notepads for the hour lecture ahead.

She got a disapproving look from her professor when she slide into a row, flopping down onto the seat and apologising as she rummaged through her bag looking for her laptop. Her professor was already going over what they would be covering today when she realised she doesn’t have her laptop. Then she remembered where it is, it’s in her apartment in the bathroom.

Harry insisted they had a bath last night to relax her after she took some exams in college that day, the pair were soaked under the bubble filled hot water with her laptop propped up on the sink playing a show on Netflix as they relaxed and spoke about their day. She grabbed her notebook and pen and immediately began to scribble down the notes she would have to transfer onto her laptop tonight, if Harry doesn’t distract her again. She knows he might not, he has classes of his own today, his starting later than hers and his classes only being on four days a week instead of five like Y/N, yesterday was his day off, hence why he was being a needy little shit and clinging to Y/N like his lifeline until they fell asleep.

The day dragged out for Y/N, her usual one hour classes feeling like four hours, her notes taking for ages to write up as she tried to keep up with what was being displayed on the board, her lunchtime consisting of her bumming off her friend for a few dollars to get something to eat as she left her purse at home, her friend didn’t mind but she felt awful for asking. When the day finally ended she was relieved, all she wanted to do was get into the gymnasium and play some volleyball with her team to get all the anger she felt today, she was not having a good day and the only things that can help her with that is Harry or volleyball, and because she had training today over their at home game being played next week, she was relieved she could get some stress reliving in before going back to her place where she knows Harry will be — he hates his own apartment as he shares, Y/N only having a one bedroom one that she snagged and Harry being left with a flat thats shared between four people, there’s no privacy there, none.

“You’ve been tense all day, is everything okay?” Abbie, Y/N best friend asks as they begin their warm ups, the two sat on the floor side by side as the stretch their legs and arms getting warmed up for practice.

“Today wasn’t my day, woke up late, forgot my laptop and purse and now I have to go home and type up nearly fifty pages of notes onto my laptop — Who’s idea was it for me to study Biochemistry?” She laughs out, stretching her arms behind her head as Abbie follows suit, the pair watching as the coach shows them what to do, the pair sat at the back to avoid being yelled at for talking.

“I think that was your idea, I certainly didn’t force you to do that. If it helps, environmental studies isn’t easier, I swear I’m constantly writing up lab reports and giving presentations each week” Abbie rolls her eyes, the pair now doing lunges as they continue to chat.

“Shit! I have a presentation next week, I totally forgot” Y/N groans, squeezing her eyes in frustration as she hasn’t even started yet, her mind immediately going to how she has to type up the whole presentation while probably having Harry hang out of her. Harry is studying sports science, in hopes to one day set up his own personal training business. They usually have study sessions together as Harry has just as much work as Y/N, but Harry isn’t as much as a perfectionist as Y/N, he’ll slap together a presentation and call it a night while she has to make it look pretty and aesthetically pleasing.

After a fifteen minute warm up, the girls are already playing a mini match for practice, six players per team, Y/N being up nearest to the net with three other girls. She’s been named as one of the teams best scorers, her jumps are high and her force hitting the ball is something that scares opposing teams when they play competitions. She’s been on the college team for nearly two years now, her whole college course is five years long — she’s aiming for a bachelors degree in Biochemistry, she’s so happy she has something else to do while in here, she knows she would of went crazy if she didn’t have something to calm her down.

They play three games, Y/N’s team wining the first game and the teams tying on the last game due to the positions being switched and she was put to the back to give other players the chance to spike the ball up. She’s back up front on the third game, her body now rested from the small water break they were given in between the games, her body full of adrenaline and ready to play. The game is playing out as usual, Y/N jumping and spiking the ball up and over the net with the help of her team mates, the other team just as good as them as they all battle it out on the court. In the last two minutes is when it all goes downhill, Y/N jumps up to spike the ball, when she lands, she wobbles and falls over, her ankle rolling as she cries out in pain on the court, the coach blowing the whistle to stop the game as everyone rushes around her.

She tries to stand up, she falls back down again, Abbie and another girl holding her up as she shuts her eyes in pain. The coach takes off her ankle brace and sock with her permission, she’s now sitting on the bench as her ankle is iced and checked over by the coach, Abbie helping Y/N by refilling her water bottle when needed, her ankle now propped up on a chair with ice on it as the rest of the team begins their warm downs.

“It’s definitely sprained” Abbie says looking under the ice at her ankle, Y/N wincing when Abbie presses down lightly, jumping when she lets out a small cry.

“Yep, definitely sprained” she says putting the ice back on and sitting down next to her friend as they both laugh a little, the pain easing off with the ice as Abbie distracts her with stories and jokes.

“Y/N, do you have anyone to take you home?” The coach asks, allowing the rest to leave as Abbie stays seated with Y/N.

“I’ll call my boyfriend, thank you for your help” she says as the coach pats her on the back, telling her she can take all the time she needs off while also still being allowed to attend the games to support. She’s devastated about it, but at least she can support her team from the sidelines.

“What happened?” Harry asks running out of his car, the door slamming as Abbie wheels Y/N out in wheelchair given to them by the coach from the injury room.

“Fucked my ankle, doesn’t surprise me honestly, today wasn’t a good day” she sighs s Harry laughs a little, helping her out of the wheelchair and guiding her towards his car that’s parked only three steps away.

“You’re okay now, let’s get you home and rested, yeah?” He says laying her down on the back seat, picking her leg up and resting it on the seat as she winches in pain a little as she adjusts herself on the seat.

“Thanks for all your help, I’ll have Niall come and pick her car up later” Harry says to Abbie, closing the back door and smiling at the girl who’s waving in at her best friend who’s mortified in the back of the car, laughing masking the pain she’s feeling.

“If you both need anything give me a call” she says as Harry nods waving her off as he sits into the car, turning around to look at his girlfriend who’s looking back at him holding in her laugh.

“Only you” he shakes his head laughing as Y/N lets out a loud cackle, knowing he’s right, only her would end up fucking up her ankle even with a brace on it, it’s defiantly a Y/N thing to do.

The car ride home is filled with laughing and a few sing songs as Harry tries to distract her from the pain. He helps her into her apartment by carrying her bridal style up the flight of stairs and placing her down onto the sofa, propping her leg up on the coffee table, raising her ankle up on a pillow as he races to the freezer to find something to put on the injury.

“Okay, all you’ve got is frozen peas” he says placing the green packet down onto her ankle, the picture of peas hilarious as it rests on her skin, the swelling gone down since the gymnasium which is good, as Harry says.

“I’ll run to the store to get you some bandages soon, right now, you need some tea, the sugar will help with the shock you got” he says immediately snapping into Mum mode with her, Y/N smiling at Harry in the kitchen behind her, her head turning and resting on the back of the sofa as she watches him saunter around her kitchen.

“Do you have any homework you need completing? I got all mine done in library period we had today, I’m free to do yours if you have any” he says fiddling with the kettle and switching it on, placing a tea bag into her favourite purple polka dot mug.

“I have to transfer handwritten notes onto my laptop, I can do that” she says as Harry turns around, waiting for the kettle to boil as he looks at her.

“Nope, I’m doing that for you, you need rest! I’m here to help you, I’ll be your nurse” he says turning back around to pour the boiling water into the mug.

“I’m fine Harry, it’s just a small sprain” she fights back, Harry shaking his head as he walks in with her mug filled with warm tea, passing it to her as he sits next to her wrapping his arm around the back of the sofa.

“I’m not leaving you here alone, if you fall what will you do? Get up and walk?” He says sarcastically as she rolls her eyes laughing, resting her head back on his arm as they begin watching the TV before them.

“Also, I expect the same in return if I ever get hurt” he jokes as she slaps his arm playfully, laughing loudly as Harry wiggles his eyebrows at her.

“You’re on top for the next few weeks Styles” she says sipping on her tea as Harry laughs, reaching over to kiss her check.

“I’m always on top, darling” he whispers to her as she pulls back looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Babe, please can you be on top? I had a leg cramp this morning and it might come back” she says lowly, imitating Harry and his deep British accent as he looks at her rolling his eyes.

“I don’t sound like that” he says taking her mug from her and sipping a little from her tea as she takes it back off him with a loud groan at what he just did — he always does it to annoy her, or he’ll dip some biscuits into her tea when she’s not looking.

“Oh yeah, must be what my other boyfriend sounds like” she says riling him up, his head turning to her as she looks at the TV screen laughing behind the rim of her mug.

“You’re lucky you’re injured m’love, if you weren’t you would be over my shoulder and thrown down onto your bed and I’d show you who’s your boyfriend, or daddy as you like” he says wiggling his eyebrows as she groans into her tea.

“It was one time! I said it by accident!” She shouts, turning bright red as Harry laughs loudly, kissing her cheek as she pouts looking down at her mug.

“You know I liked it, it’s okay baby” he says resting her head on his shoulder as she cuddles into him, her empty mug on her lap as she pulls the blanket down from the back of the sofa, placing her empty mug on the floor and throwing the blanket over them both.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you” she says feeling sleepy, her day catching up on her as Harry helps her nurse her injury, his hands fixing the frozen peas on her ankle if they move a little.

“You’d probably break your neck or something” Harry says as she groans looking up at him, his dimples popping out as he laughs at his own joke.

“I’m being nice!” She says as he bends down to peck her lips, their smiles against one another lips as they pull away looking at one another.

“I know m’baby, I don’t know what you’d do without me either!” He says sighing in contentment as she rolls her eyes squishing her face into his chest.

“Harry!”

[karls-writing-space]

Yo! If it's not too much trouble, can I have Coffee and/or roseship tea from that lil' tea thingie you had reposted a bit ago with C!Tommy and C!Technoblade? They're my favorites and kinda comfort characters so I'd love to see you write for em 👉👈 [-DreamerAnon 👀]

Ayyyy! Hey, DreamerAnon!

Ofc you can have C!Tommy and C!Techno for that tea thing! (We share two comfort characters!)

Coming right up, mate!

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Tea Asks -

Coffee and Rosehip Tea for C!Tommy and C!Technoblade

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Tommy

Coffee - Do they get jealous easily? How do they show it?

Tommy does tend to get jealous quite easily, to be honest.

He tries not to let it show, though. Big Man over here doesn't want others - especially his S/O - to know that he gets jealous.

Honestly, he masks his jealousy pretty well. Tommy over here is pretty good at acting like he's not jealous in front of others.

He wouldn't really get jealous if you hung out with his friends every now and then. He trusts them, and he trusts you. So, it's kind of a win-win situation.

If you were hanging out with his friends more than him, or if you're hanging out with people he doesn't like, Tommy begins to get jealous.

He tries his best not to let others around him see him get jealous, but sometimes he can't help it.

When he has enough, he walks over to where his partner is and wraps an arm around their shoulders or torso. He would press a few kisses onto their face. He does show his partner random acts of affection in both public and private, so it wouldn't be all that noticeable if he was jealous.

The time his S/O would find out Tommy was jealous was when he tells them, which would be in the privacy of their homes,

Cue his S/O teasing Tommy and him getting all flustered and telling them to shut up [with no ill intent].

Rosehip Tea - How romantic are they? How do they show affection?

I view C!Tommy as a bit of a romantic guy. He definitely has had thoughts of meeting someone, going on dates, and the two showing affection toward one another.

He would be a physically affectionate person. He loves holding his S/O's hand out in public. He can be seen with an arm around his S/O's shoulders when he's sitting with them and their group of friends.

Tommy can be a little clingy when it comes to his lover, and he really hopes that they don't mind that.

Early-Morning cuddles are very much a thing. Tommy will tangle his arms and legs with his S/O's when they cuddle. Sleepy "Good morning, love"s and "I love you"s also occur during this time.

He and his S/O aren't going to be getting out of bed for a while.

That is unless they needed to get up for something.

If he's out somewhere in the morning, he writes little notes telling his S/O where he's at and then tells them that he loves them.

He likes playing/messing around with his significant other. Expect him to playfully roughhouse with his S/O at random times. He will be careful not to hurt them, and if he does, he will apologize.

Tommy tries all sorts of pick-up lines on his S/O. They're either rather cheesy, or really sweet.

"___, do you have a map?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Because I just got lost in your eyes."

He loves to go on little adventures with his S/O. The two of you could be searching around caves and cliffs for a while, and then end the day sitting on a mountain stargazing and enjoying each other's company.

This guy tries to have candlelit dinners with his S/O whenever he can, but it either ends up with him almost burning the food or he forgets about the dinner date he had in mind.

When a dinner date does go as planned and doesn't get messed up, he plays Melohi in the background.

"It's for romance." He says as he leads his S/O to his dining room to eat.

He knows how to make basic meals - like Steak with vegetables at the side. He isn't a master-chef, but hey, at least he knows how to cook.

These dinner dates include him and his S/O joking around, complimenting one another, and of course, telling each other how much they love the other. He has this soft little loving smile on his face.

"I love you to the moon and back, ___. You're the best thing that's happened to me. Y'know that?"

"You... You complete me."

Hearing his S/O say that he loves him back, or compliments him makes Tommy smile grow as he blushes.

He loves having these moments with his S/O. It reminds him that he has someone who will love him unconditionally.

Technoblade

Coffee - Do they get jealous easily? How do they show it?

Like Tommy, it entirely depends on who his S/O hanging around.

If they're hanging out with Philza or Ranboo, he wouldn't feel jealous at all. He's quite happy that they're having fun with his friends. He'd also be quite relieved that they weren't hanging around people he thinks could hurt them, or that are his enemies.

On the other hand, if his lover is hanging around with other people that isn't Ranboo or Philza, he does get quite jealous.

When he's jealous, Techno won't say anything and will be a little annoyed. As time goes on, and they continue to hang around those other people, he will become more clingy and will want them to be around him more.

Technoblade will make up excuses to pull his lover away from those other people, and have them hang out with him for the remainder of the day. (with possible company from Phil and Ranboo.)

Would he admit that he was jealous?

Haha... no.

No, this will go to the grave with him.

Or, at least until his S/O figures out he was jealous and call him out for it. If they do point out he was jealous, he would deny it the first few times before giving in and admitting that he was indeed jealous. Piglin man would be blushing quite a bit as he admits it.

Rosehip Tea - How romantic are they? How do they show affection?

THE BLADEEEE

Techno isn't the most romantic person, to be honest.

He never really got time to settle down or really think about having a S/O.

That was until he met his S/O.

Then he tried to think of more romantic things to do with them that wasn't sparring.

He likes to cuddle his S/O while they read, or when he reads to them. The feeling of them in his arms is comforting to him.

He would read them stories about Greek mythology, or maybe would even read them The Art Of War. Probably would even leave his own comments on certain parts of the books he reads to his S/O - opinions, facts - anything he feels like adding.

Techno isn't very fond of PDA. He doesn't want his enemies to see him act as "weak", or to be an open spot for them to attack him or his S/O. He prefers to show affection in the privacy and safety of his or his lover's homes.

Very careful when cuddling his S/O. He doesn't want to accidentally crush them in his arms. His hugs are rather loose, but he still holds his lover close to his body.

His S/O is probably going to have to try and tell him that it's alright to give them tighter hugs.

Once he gets more comfortable with hugging his S/O, Technoblade will love having his lover in his arms. he thinks that they fit perfectly in them.

That and this guy is touch-starved as hell.

If he and his S/O share a bed, he would hold them while they sleep. He's really warm, and it feels nice to sleep close to him at night. He also holds them at night to convince himself that they're safe in his arms.

Hey, S/O! PLEASE play with his hair. Run your hands through it, ruffle it, style it - anything!

Techno will turn into a pile of mush because of this and will lean into his partner's touch. He loves the feeling of their fingers in his hair. It's very calming to him.

He won't take out the hairstyle they put in his hair until the end of the day. He loves any and all styles his S/O makes and will wear them with pride.

He tells his lover that he loves them as much as he can, and will complement and/or praise them when they do something that impresses him, or what he loves about them.

"Your smile is precious. Please smile some more."

"You brought home that many potatoes? That's... wow. I'm proud of you, ___"

"I love you, ___. I.... I can't believe that you're mine."

He will let his S/O wear his cape and crown! He thinks that they look great in his clothes, in general.

[houndsofcerberus]

Lament of a Father

Technoblade was a lot of things. In whispers passed along as he walked through the market he was a monster. In quiet reverence after turning the tides of a war he was a hero. In loud jeering after the tides of war had been changed he was a villain. In stories passed between families of a man on trade routes at midnight he was a benevolent spirit, a god even. He held many titles but the one he cherished, the one he would wear like a badge of honour until the day he died? Well he had only worn that one for a year, maybe less. He would never speak of it to anyone, never share that vulnerability to anyone. Except of course for the one who had tenderly taken the title from him. He was eternally grateful and indebted to Philza for what he had done, but chat occasionally disdained him for stopping them.

Tommy, despite looking so much like his dad, despite sharing his blond hair, his sapphire blue eyes full of life and curiosity, was well aware of the fact he was not his biological child. The only biological child his dad had ever had was his older brother Wilbur. Though it was easy to assume the opposite. Wilbur had taken after his mother, who had long since passed, her presence only existing by the picture pinned up on the fridge. She had been gone long before Tommy’s arrival, though his dad often spoke of how it was because of her invisible influence on him that made him take Tommy in. The story Tommy had only ever known was that his parents had left him behind. His brother, jealous of the time and the care his dad seemed to pour into Tommy but give him sparingly, had once told Tommy his parents didn’t want him. Had left him to die in the woods. He had never asked his dad because as far as Tommy was concerned they had. It didn’t matter to him how they had left him, it mattered that they left him at all. It mattered every time he heard the other kids whisper about how Tommy was a bastard child. Unloved. Unwanted. Out of place.

Tommy had been content never meeting his biological parents. That would be fine by him. Philza had been adequate. He had a roof, a home, a bed, food. Despite his brother’s occasional jealousy or the common squabbles between the two he was happy to have his brother. He wouldn’t have it any other way. Besides, his parents must have been terrible people to leave him behind like they did.

Tommy stared from behind Wilbur at the stranger in their door whom their dad had been welcoming warmly. Tommy frowned, trying to look past the improvised mask made out of a hoglin skull, wondering if the slight tusks coming from the mans mouth were also not his own. He noted the long pink hair, the way he smelled strongly of blood despite the fact that there was none to be seen on this stranger. Tommy could see a crossbow on his back, a weapon his own dad didn’t wield but he’d seen occasionally used, shown off in weapon shows in town. People around here didn’t use crossbows. He also took note of both the axe and the sword on the man as well. The axe was not the woodcutter’s axe outside, but a battle axe. A mean looking thing, but the soft glow of it was mesmerizing and what little of the blade he could see was sharp, definitely for fighting. The sword was sheathed at the man’s hip, but the hilt he could see under the man’s red cape was ornate, a beautiful gold glinting in the light along with the rest of the man’s jewelry. There was a ruby at the bottom, looking like fire in the candlelight. Tommy froze as he looked back up at the man’s face, making eye contact. He frowned and stuck his tongue out indignantly.

“What’re you lookin at?” He snapped.

Technoblade had to suppress a soft chuckle at that. He was so small, hidden behind his brother, but he said it with such fire in his belly that Techno was half convinced that had he heard it on the battlefield he might have looked away. He looked back at Phil, who smiled fondly.

“Long time no see mate, we should talk,” he said softly.

“We should,” Techno replied, eyes flicking back to Tommy. In that moment though he wasn’t a young man, nor a child. He was an infant, held so tenderly in Techno’s arms.

He remembered the day as if it were yesterday. He had remembered it since it happened, he relived it over and over. Tommy’s mother had died. He wished he had known her longer. They hadn’t been married when Tommy came along, and she had been the opposite of Techno. She hadn’t lived long after Tommy was born. As was Techno’s luck seemed to be. She had known it and she had held the tiny golden haired baby who had her eyes and his father’s smile. So rarely given but a treat to be savoured. The tiny child had squealed and grinned at her once his crying had stopped, his eyes fixed on her until his father gently lifted him from her arms after they had gone limp. Techno had promised many things. But above all he promised that no matter the price their child would live the best life he could live. 

Technoblade had spent a little under a year with the title of father. He had cherished every second. He hadn’t believed he wanted to be a father, not until he was. He didn’t believe attachments were a good idea, but he would never regret this. Never. He had named the small child Theseus, he wanted his child bearing the name of a warrior. Of a man who had carried hardship and walked tall yet still. He wanted Theseus to be strong, he wanted the name to fit the man he knew his son would one day be.

He had spent the entire year carefully taking care of the child, despite the voices in his head screaming to rid himself of the danger. The danger someone would use this tiny bundle of giggles and straw blond hair and watery blue eyes against him. They insisted this helpless baby would be his demise. They chanted for blood but Technoblade would not concede. At least for that year. He would hold the child, speak softly of great heroes, of gods and of monsters. He would fall asleep, arms around this tiny life that had been left for him to care for, protecting him. He still believed wholeheartedly it was the best year of his life. The year he had replaced his old titles, the title of monster, of god, of hero, of villain. He would maintain for the rest of his life that father was the only title he would ever want.

“Please Philza,” came the strangled sob as Techno held out the bundled up child. “Please.”The rain had soaked through Techno’s clothing long ago, his hair soaking, though when Philza took the child into his arms he noted that there wasn’t a drop on the sleeping baby.

“Techno, are you sure? This is the greatest gift you could receive, are you positive you want to give it up?” Phil said sadly, looking up at Technoblade, soaked in rain. His crimson eyes were bloodshot and Phil knew his old companion well enough to know he had grown fond of the child he held. Fond enough to weather the storm.

“No. I’m not sure. I don’t want to give him up, if we lived in a perfect world I would never. I would hold him until the world burned around us. But you know damn well why I can’t.” Techno said, looking away, eyes landing on a framed image of Philza, his long gone wife, and his child. Theseus would be safe here. Theseus would be loved. It didn’t matter that Technoblade felt his heart was being ripped from his chest. He had come so close. He wouldn’t risk it again.

“Mate...” Philza said, face falling. “You can’t help it, you know you wouldn’t dare,” he said softly.

“I wouldn’t. They would. They tried. I am not putting him in danger by simply being alive in my presence. Please, please I am begging you. Take him. Take care of him like I can’t. He deserves better than to grow up to fear his own father.” Techno begged, holding back the tears that were stinging his eyes. 

“...okay...” Phil agreed, relenting. He offered the bundle back to Techno, offering a moment to say goodbye. Techno took the chance eagerly, holding the child close.

“I love you, more than you could ever understand. You are my heart and soul Theseus. Be a good man,” Techno whispered, the tears he’d been choking back betraying him and falling down his face. “I will always love you.” He added solemnly, taking another look at his sleeping son. So peaceful, so blissfully unaware. He handed Theseus back to Phil. “He gets nightmares, often. He doesn’t sleep well still, but this-“ Techno pulled out a stuffed animal, a simple plush toy his son adored, a stuffed cow, floppy and well loved, handing it to the other. “Warm milk and Henry help him sleep, he prefers to be held though, it makes him feel safe. He doesn’t like to be alone,” Techno rambled. Phil nodded, taking note of everything said until Techno reluctantly took his departure.

Tommy and Wilbur sat outside, pretending to play as they kept an eye on the window, watching the strange man inside talk to their dad. They were sat at the table, their expressions confusing for Tommy. Smiling but...not happy. Their dad had made the two of them tea after shooing the kids outside to play. The grass rippled around Tommy in the breeze as he ripped some of it up and let it fly away in the wind.

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Tommy asked, staring at the back of the stranger’s head.

“Dunno. Maybe they’re finally taking you somewhere they’ll teach you to have manners,” Wilbur joked, tossing a dandelion he’d picked at Tommy.

“Shut up, if anything you’re the one who doesn’t behave,” Tommy replied easily, rolling his eyes and tossing the flower right back at Wilbur. Things hadn’t always been so easy between them. Tommy had been treated like he was precious cargo by their dad. Neither knew why, Wilbur didn’t care why. His dad was paying attention to Tommy not him. He didn’t like it. As they got older it got easier but there had once been a time where their ‘fights’ hadn’t been in jest. Where they actually meant it when they said they hated one another. Tommy could still tell Wilbur didn’t like that their dad clearly had a favourite but he no longer blamed Tommy. His relationship with his dad had soured mildly though their dad hadn’t seemed to notice.

“Phil I can’t tell him.”

“He deserves to know. I never told him anything, he’ll start looking one day and if he finds out that I never told him who you were when you were right here? When he could’ve asked questions? He’ll not only never forgive me, he’ll never forgive you.” Phil said. “He’s a stubborn little shit, he got that from you.”

“Phil he’s better off with whatever story he’s come up with in his head. He may not want the answers to the questions he has.” Techno said softly. “No child deserves to know their own father tried to kill them.” 

“Techno that wasn’t you and you know it. You’ve gotten a handle on chat now, you’re not the stupid kid who runs headfirst into battle without thought anymore. If what I’ve heard is right he’d be proud. You’ve won multiple tournaments, that’s something he’d find interesting.” Phil said.

“Phil please. You and I both know this won’t last. I’m not a person who stays out of trouble for long.”

“You’re going to regret this.”

“Don’t I always?”

Technoblade’s name had become well known by the siblings after that conversation. Phil hadn’t yet introduced them until years later when Techno showed up for one of Tommy’s birthdays, giving Phil a book and telling him to wait to give it to Tommy. Then came the Pogtopia vs Manberg war. Techno had played a major part in the war though his efforts were wasted once the president of Manberg dropped dead in front of them. Since that day Lmanberg had rebuilt the damage caused by both Wilbur and Techno. Phil had come back. But Techno’s reputation for being ruthless and dangerous hadnt faded. Nor had the knowledge he was a private person. Which is why when he found a certain young man in his house he had been shocked.

“What are you doing in my house?”

Tommy froze, looking up at Techno from where he was still climbing the ladder, head poking out from the hole he thought he’d hidden decently. Tommy tried to scurry back down but Techno caught him by the back of his shirt and easily lifted him off the ladder and set him on the ground.

“Why are you in my house?” He asked again.

“Well...someones clearly woken up on the wrong side of the bed!” Tommy said. “You’ve got to fix that temper big man, or else nobody will want to hang out with you,”

“I don’t want anyone to hang out with me. That’s the entire point. Get out.”

“God this place is ugly. You really should hire a decorator. I know someone who could help y’know, I could call them. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind helping you out. A charity case if you would. She’s great really.” Tommy rambled.

“Theseus.” Techno said firmly. For some reason this was what made Tommy shut up. It sent a chill down his spine and he felt like someone had poured ice water down his back. “Why are you living under my house?” Tommy couldn’t respond. He didn’t know why but the nickname Theseus that Technoblade had given Tommy made him falter every time without fail. Tommy attributed it to the speech Techno had made all that time ago, yelling for him to die like the hero he wished to be. Since then Techno had almost exclusively used that name in their few interactions. Sometimes it would be sternly, fewer times it was affectionate, though the name gained positive meaning the longer Tommy stayed with Technoblade. Techno spent time training Tommy, and soon even just spending time with him. Technoblade taught Tommy how to make his own weapons and how to make them near perfect after realizing how woefully terrible Tommy’s current weapon was, especially for his fighting style. 

Tommy had always been mesmerized by the way Techno fought. It was like he was dancing, every movement was muscle memory, every step rehearsed, measured. The way he locked his eyes onto his target but seemed to be oh so aware when eyes were on him. Watching Techno and Philza fight was a real treat. It was like watching a performance. Technoblade had clearly learned from Tommy’s dad, and Tommy wanted to hear the stories of their old adventures, though neither would give up the goods. Phil’s movements were airy, near effortless. Though he lacked the power Techno threw into every swing, and Techno lacked a lot of the effortless grace that Phil seemed to have a birthright to.

Tommy sat, transfixed as he watched his dad’s wings flare out, though unable to carry him now due to the large chunks burned away he still used them, catching himself as Techno shoved him back. Phil had a grin on his face as they sparred, though Techno’s face was as it always seemed to be, stony and unchanging. Tommy could’ve sworn that he saw the smallest glint of excitement in those wine red eyes. Techno had a tendency for nonstop movement, and redirecting his momentum. Techno had said, quite hypocritically, that it was a stupid move however. It took a lot more energy to redirect and change momentum and still have enough power for your hit. Though it seemed that Techno wasn’t lacking in power as the sparks flew between Phil and Techno’s swords, illuminating their faces briefly before being extinguished in the snow. Phil was considered better by many, but for whatever reason Tommy found Phil all too predictable. He liked the unbridled power and erratic movements that Techno made, the way he seemed to keep his eyes fixed on you as you sparred, attention unwavering and unyielding. It was intimidating and Tommy had never wanted to be on the other side of the sword when Techno really meant it.

He had never wanted it. Never wanted this. Lmanberg was crashing around him, exploding constantly, the crater going deeper as the noise of the explosions mixed in with the screaming of the withers. Tommy couldn’t take a breath without the acrid smoke stinging his lungs, couldn’t move without the raging fire below the platform he stood on warming his skin to a near unbearable extent. But somehow nothing hurt him more than the look of pure sorrow and rage in Techno’s eyes as he stood behind the crossbow, firework loaded, ready to kill Tommy. Ready to end him where he stood. Tommy cowered behind it, his voice ever steady despite the tears cleaning trails of soot off his face betraying him.

“Do it.” He said. “Prove me right.”

Techno took a breath and for a moment Tommy thought he was going to actually pull the trigger. He flinched as he heard the click of the trigger, and then the explosion of the firework. But he was fine. He opened his eyes and saw Technoblade reload his crossbow before putting it away. He pulled out his trident and looked up, holding his free hand out as the first raindrops fell.

“We part as we did the first time. I’ll miss you Theseus.” Techno said softly, pulling his arm back before launching into the air with his trident. Though Tommy swore he heard something he couldn’t decipher it over the loud roar of the withers, the pattering of rain, and the ever insistent booming of the explosives digging ever deeper. Tommy stood, rain soaking his hair and washing his face of the soot and ash of the country he once built with his brother. He once took back with his uncle. The country he had staked everything on from the beginning. It was gone. For good now. There was no rebuilding. Tommy exchanged a look with Tubbo, the two of them locking eyes. Neither said a word but they both knew, they both understood that it was over. Dream had won, and Technoblade and Phil had helped. Tommy was surrounded by people but he had never felt more alone in that moment. Not even in exile. And he couldn’t tell you why. Though maybe it had something to do with the red fur trimmed cape he still had hanging up at home and the axe that had once been a gift and was now stolen property in his enderchest.

Techno had stopped paying attention to any and all news regarding Tommy. He told Phil it didn’t matter. He didn’t care. He didn’t want to know. But they both knew he was lying through his teeth. He cared. A great deal. But that was the problem now wasn’t it? He had his son. He had an optimal time to tell him. And he was going to. Until Tommy charged into the community house. And Techno had watched in that moment as Tommy chose the corrupt government that had just prior ordered his execution and had imprisoned Phil. Tommy chose them over Techno, who had once more thought about retrieving the title of father. The title he missed every day of his life since he handed it to Phil.

“Tommy is dead.”

Techno’s blood ran cold. There was no way. No way. Phil turned and stared at Techno. Phil loved Tommy, he had. But they had grown estranged. Techno however? He had been attached to Tommy since the day he showed up under his house. Techno had grown close and lost Tommy but he still cared. He still loved his son. Techno didn’t love many things or people, but his son was one of those things.

Phil relaxed slightly as Techno joked, but he didn’t miss the way Techno rushed through the meeting, the way he bolted out of the room into the ever winding maze outside. Phil said his goodbyes before darting after Techno, going through the halls. He found him leaning against a wall, looking queasy. Phil didn’t even get to Techno before he heard him retch and a splatter. Phil saw him turn and wipe his mouth, face ashen and colourless, he was shaking violently and Phil could see how distant he was. Chat. Again.

“You good mate? Come back to me Techno. We can figure this out. Just breathe,” Phil said. “You’ll be o-“

“Do not finish that sentence.” Techno snapped, glaring at Phil. “He’s dead. I am not going to be okay.” Phil had seen Techno angry many times. But he’d never seen this look. The look of a man with nothing left to lose. It wasn’t even like he was looking at Technoblade anymore, not in the way he knew his beloved friend. It was more like staring a wild boar in the face. A very angry, very hungry wild boar. Phil stepped back, knowing very well he could find his throat ripped from his neck if he chose to move forward.

Techno took many long hours to calm, and by the time he had he was empty. It was like everything had been drained from him. Every ounce of Techno had been ripped out and all that Phil had left was the shell. His heart broke because he knew exactly how it had felt. He knew what it was like. After he lost Wilbur Phil had disappeared into the woods for days, he remembered killing anything that moved, hitting the trees until his knuckles bruised and bled just to feel something other than the all consuming sorrow and despair. Anything to stave off the feeling of emptiness. And it was like that until Techno set off. He said he was going to go train. Except he didn’t come back for what felt like years. Tommy had come to visit. As had Wilbur, newly revived from the dead. And Phil had nearly lost it, so relieved to see his son even if his son wasn’t thrilled to see him. It didn’t matter. Wilbur could tell him a million times that Phil no longer mattered, that he wasn’t family, and Phil would still just be relieved that he was okay. That he was alive.

He saw the way Tommy looked at them. Saw the jealousy in his eyes. He had tried so hard to stop him from feeling that when he was a kid but things were different. Things had changed. They didn’t talk much, they weren’t family like they had been. And Phil wanted Tommy to know he had family. But it wasn’t his story to tell. Not yet.

Techno had come back oh so very briefly, a week maximum. They celebrated his birthday, and Techno received a letter summoning him to the prison. Phil was apprehensive and when Techno didn’t come home that night, or the next day, or the day after that Phil started to worry. He had read the will. He knew the plan. But he didn’t like it. Too many things could go wrong. The next time Tommy visited Phil was a wreck. Tommy did his best to comfort Phil but honestly Tommy was worried too. He knew Techno could handle himself. He knew what Techno was capable of but he also knew what Dream and Sam were capable of. 

Phil however was worried about several things. He had faith Techno would be fine, he always was, but… there was a nagging in the back of his brain. He needed to tell Tommy. No matter what he needed to tell him. If Techno died in the prison Tommy should know, and if he got out as planned then Tommy should get to be allowed to know his father. He shouldn’t know before it’s too late, especially when it might already be too late. 

“Tommy?”

“Yeah Phil?” Tommy replied, picking up the two mugs he had, each with tea in them. He set one down in front of Phil at the table and sat nearby, looking at him. Phil looked like a fucking wreck. There were deep circles under his eyes, he looked exhausted and he seemed older in that moment than Tommy could ever remember him looking before.

“I need to tell you something. The truth.”

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it right now, you can tell me later,”

“No. I have to tell you.” Phil said adamantly. He knew if he didn’t say it now he never would. And Tommy might never get to know Techno as his dad instead of a friend or mentor. He wanted Tommy to have a dad. He owed it to him after he had suddenly stopped being one. “I knew your parents. Your mother and father, they were friends of mine. Your mom is… she’s not around…” Phil said quickly. He kept going before Tommy could react. “Your father. He’s a friend. He’s still alive.”

“…what?” Tommy asked, voice quiet. 

“I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you.”

“Why didn’t you? I spent years wondering what the fuck was wrong with me or my parents that they dropped me in the middle of nowhere, why the fuck didn’t you say anything?” Tommy asked, rage and pain clear in his voice. Years of self loathing, of wondering why he wasn’t good enough, why he was abandoned. Why he didn’t get to have a family. Why he didn’t get to know his father at the very least.

“There’s a lot you don’t understand, I wish I could’ve told you but I couldn’t Tommy,” Phil answered.

“There’s a lot that you don’t understand! I’ve been wondering every day of my life why I wasn’t good enough! Why I couldn’t be happy, why I didn’t deserve to have my own family! You had the answers and you just didn’t give them to me!” Tommy yelled, standing up and banging his fist on the table. “Who? How many times have I met my father and you didn’t say a word? How many interactions did I have where you didn’t tell me I could’ve asked him questions? How many times was he right there?” Phil looked down and sighed, shaking his head. He didn’t wanna say it.

“Tommy….” Phil sighed softly, looking at Tommy. He was right to be pissed. Phil knew that. But he wished he wasn’t. 

“Tell me! For once in your fucking life be honest Phil! You’ve been lying to me for years, you owe me this! You owe me this cause I died and you didn’t bother to care!” Tommy screamed, tears running down his face. “Owe up to it for once in your life.” 

“It’s Technoblade.” Phil choked out. He swore, Tommy almost lunged for his neck to choke him. In that moment he looked so much like his dad. He was so angry. He’d never seen Tommy this angry before, not even on doomsday. Phil would’ve let him strangle him, he’d deserve it. But Tommy didn’t. He slammed his fist into the wall.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He yelled. It was so loud and Phil could hear his voice almost giving out. “He was right here! This whole fucking time! What the fuck is wrong with both of you? You had months, months to tell me!” He screamed, his voice quavering. “You’re both full of shit!” He screamed, turning around and storming out. The door slammed and Phil flinched, hearing the pictures on the wall rattle. He didn’t think it would go this badly. Granted he didn’t know how it would go when he said it. Phil sighed and put his head in his hands. He fucked up. He was gonna regret this.

Techno regretted going into that prison. By the time he got out thanks to the stasis chamber and an ender pearl. He felt himself teleport and stumbled as he found himself in the syndicate’s meeting room. He felt someone grab him and he flinched away.

“Calm down mate, it’s alright, it’s me,” Phil’s voice said softly. Techno looked around confusedly, breathing quickly and seeing it was in fact the syndicate room, not Pandora’s Vault. Phil pulled him along and had him sit down at one of the chairs. “You alright?” Phil asked, stepping back and looking at Techno. He looked like shit. He was thinner, he was pale and shaky. He looked like he didn’t know which way was up. “What the fuck happened in there mate?” 

“It sucked. The syndicate has a responsibility to take it down, it’s as corrupt as anything could be.” Techno sighed.

“I can see that mate.”

“They don’t really feed you in there… Tommy was in there wasn’t he?” Techno asked. Phil paled.

“Yeah… he was.” Phil said, sighing. “Listen I…I have to tell you something Techno. It’s about Tommy.” 

“Is he okay? Did something happen to him?” Technoblade asked immediately, looking terrified.

“No, no he’s fine. I fucked up though mate. I’m sorry, I told him. I didn’t know whether things would go as planned or not, he deserved to know while you were still alive.” Phil said quickly, not looking at Techno. He heard the other sigh.

“….I suppose we owed it to him. Better sooner than later.” Techno sighed, shaking his head. “How’d he take it?” He asked, looking at Phil and leaning back in the chair with a groan.

“Bad. He was….angry. Angry we didn’t say anything earlier. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so pissed.” Phil replied, sitting on the table. He left out just how much like his father he had looked for that moment. Tommy looked like his mother but he certainly had some of his father in him. Techno’s face had fallen more. Phil hadn’t seen Techno cry in ages, but he looked close. Tears in his eyes that he was too proud to let fall. Techno shook his head as if it would shoo them away and stood.

“He’s not wrong to be angry.” Techno said softly. Phil nodded and walked with him up the staircase to the igloo concealing the entrance. “I was going to tell him. Why didn’t I? I should’ve told him. Things were good. He deserved to have my honesty,” Techno muttered under his breath. Phil opened his mouth to respond before closing it. He had a feeling Techno’s words weren’t for him. 

They arrived to their conjoined cabins in silence, and Techno told Phil that they would convene the syndicate later on, and that he was tired. Phil knew it was a lie but he didn’t push, he knew Techno would appreciate him leaving him be more than he would prying. Techno spent a few days in his cabin alone, trying very hard not to be angry with Phil. But who was left if not Phil? He couldn’t be angry at Tommy. Tommy was in the right. Theseus had every right to be pissed, to want nothing to do with him. So the only person left to blame was Technoblade. He spend hours muttering to himself, talking back and forth with chat. Chat seemed to be divided. Half believed it was the better thing to do, to keep it secret, the other said that he should’ve told Tommy ages ago. They weren’t wrong. He had a chance. In Pogtopia he had a chance. Before doomsday, before the community house he had a chance. Tommy had been through hell and back, and Technoblade could’ve prevented it, but he didn’t. His own son died because he had stayed silent. Techno slammed his fist into the wall before letting out a soul shattering scream of frustration. How could he have been so stupid?

Tommy stood outside the houses, staring between the turtle shell helmet in his hands and the cozy inviting cabin he’d once called home. At one point it had been entirely alone, nothing but Carl in his stable outside but now it was busy. The house stood facing Phil’s own cabin, a small pond below the bridges connecting them, beacons shining nearby, Ranboo’s house not so far, a large herd of cows in a pen, polar bears inside and outside the house, a dog kennel and several dogs lounging in and out of it. It was nothing like the desolate and lonely house Tommy had last seen it as. He took a breath and shook his head. Clearly Technoblade was fine. He had Ranboo, Phil, his animals. He wouldn’t be alone. It was a bittersweet thought. On one hand he didn’t want Technoblade to be left entirely alone. He was angry but…Techno had been kind to him. Given him gifts, a home, hidden him. But on the other hand…it felt like Tommy was being abandoned, replaced. Ranboo had taken his spot as Tubbo’s best friend. Hell they were married and raising a child. Now Ranboo was living happily alongside Technoblade and Phil. Tommy wasn’t a fan of the pattern he was seeing. But unfortunately Ranboo was disgustingly pleasant. He considered turning back, maybe even just tossing the shell onto the porch by the door and making a run for it before anybody saw him, but in his moment of hesitation the decision was made for him. Techno closed the door behind him and turned, freezing, bow slung over his shoulder.

“…you weren’t supposed to see me here.” Tommy said hesitantly when he realized Techno wouldn’t say anything first.

“Your helmet,” Techno said, pointing at the turtle shell clenched in Tommy’s hands. 

“Yeah. I was going to return it to you.” Tommy said, shrugging awkwardly.

“…why?”

“You know why. Don’t act stupid.” Tommy said glaring at Techno. “You can’t expect me to not be upset after finding out you abandoned me and lied to me my whole life. I know you’re not good with people but you can’t be that stupid.”

“I’m sorry, I know, I was just… you should keep the helmet Theseus-“

“Don’t call me that. Don’t use that stupid fucking nickname!” Tommy yelled.

“…I’m sorry. I know it doesn’t make up for it, but I promise you I didn’t want it to go the way it did.” Techno said, sighing.

“You’d take it back? Fat load of good that does now.”

“No. I’d do the same. Not this part. Not keeping it a secret.”

“Thanks. Makes me feel so much better to know you still don’t want me.” Tommy said sarcastically. 

“What? Of course I wanted you.” Techno said, frowning and walking down the steps to stand in front of Tommy.

“Then why did you get rid of me so easily? Why didn’t you want me to know you?” Tommy asked, rage boiling in his chest.

“Giving you to someone else was the hardest thing I ever did. I spent a year as your dad, your first word was papa, you were my heart and soul.” Techno said softly. “I had to give you to someone else. I had to give you a better home Tommy.”

“Why couldn’t you have kept me?” Tommy asked, the venomous tone in his voice dying down slightly.

“Come, I’ll tell you everything. It’s too cold out here and you don’t have a coat,” Techno said, walking back up the stairs. Tommy was going to refuse, but his legs moved automatically, and he followed Techno inside. Techno gestured for him to sit at the table and filled the kettle with water, setting it on the wood stove and pulling out cups. “Usual?” Techno asked, looking over his shoulder. Tommy nodded and watched Techno pull out the sugar and milk. The tea was done quickly and Techno set Tommy’s cup in front of him, sitting across the table from him. “How much do you want to know?” Techno asked after taking a breath. 

“Everything. I want you to be honest with me.” Tommy replied curtly.

“Alright. I suppose I should start with your name. Theseus is your actual name, Tommy was a nickname. Your mom called you Tommy, so it stuck.” Techno admitted.

“It…wasn’t just a stupid nickname?”

“No.”

“You have terrible taste in names big man.” Tommy said, a hint of a smile on his face.

“Yeah, you may be right on that,” Techno replied, laughing. 

“My mother…what happened?” Tommy asked.

“She died a few hours after you were born. There were some issues, we knew she wasn’t gonna make it weeks before, so she decided that she would just hold you until she went. And she did just that.” Techno sighed. Tommy couldn’t figure out the look on Techno’s face. He seemed to be both sad and happy at the same time. It was odd, he hadn’t seen Techno look like this before. 

“Did you love her?”

“Absolutely. The only person I ever loved more is you.” Techno replied easily. “We didn’t get married, but it didn’t matter much to us.”

“What was she like?” 

“She was…like you actually. Everything I could only hope to become. She was kind, happy, she was always smiling. She saw the good in everything and everyone, and she stood up for what she believed in regardless of the cost. You look just like her, you have her hair and her eyes. You’re more her than me, that’s a good thing.” Techno said, smiling fondly on the memories of her. He saw so much of her in Tommy and he was unbelievably grateful for it.

“So…why did you give me up then? If you were so happy to have me or whatever?” Tommy asked, not looking at Techno. He heard him sigh deeply and almost retracted the question but decided not to. He had a right to know.

“You know about chat? The voices I hear?” Tommy nodded in response. “Well… sometimes chat is too hard for me to handle. Sometimes they take over. Sometimes they win. And one night they almost did.” Techno reached out and held Tommy’s jaw loosely, thumb running over the scar there. “They almost won and I almost lost you. You deserved a dad who didn’t try to kill you. You deserved a stable family, I didn’t want you to grow up not feeling safe cause I couldn’t control myself. So I gave you to Phil.” Techno pulled away and sighed, leaning back in his seat.

“Did you ever wish you hadn’t?” 

“That’s…hard. I wish I didn’t have to. I wish it wasn’t what had been best at that time. I wish I hadn’t needed to do it, but I don’t regret it. I would’ve loved to have been your father for as long as I lived. But I wasn’t about to risk your life for my happiness.” Techno explained.

Tommy had wanted to stay angry. Some pet of him still was, deep down. He still wanted to hit and scream and throw a tantrum, but the other part, the larger, more rational part, the part of him that had been through everything including death and war, felt the anger wash away. He hadn’t been abandoned. He was wanted. He was loved. He was cared for. It had been out of necessity, not because Techno just didn’t want him. Tommy couldn’t remember the scar, or getting it. Some part of him was scared but he remembered doomsday. Techno had a clear chance to kill him. To end it there. But he didn’t. He knew Techno wouldn’t hurt him, even if he was pissed. 

“…I died.” Tommy said quietly. He heard Techno draw in a sharp breath.

“I know.”

“Did…did you care?”

“It destroyed me. I almost killed Philza. There’s a grave site on a mountain a few hours from here. I carved the headstone and planted the flowers. I cared.” Techno said quietly. Tommy let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, and with it came a river of tears. Sixteen years of anger, frustration, misery, loneliness, isolation, all of it, came rushing out as he nearly choked on his sobs. He wiped at his eyes quickly, trying to stop himself but he couldn’t. He kept sobbing and the tears kept coming. He felt arms wrap around him and let them pull him onto the ground. He leaned into someone, sitting on their lap. It took a few moments for him to realize it was Techno.

Tommy turned and buried his face into his shoulder, sobbing freely into it, soaking Techno’s shirt with tears. He felt Techno gently rubbing his back and quietly mumbling as he kept crying, encouraging him to let it out. It felt like forever before he stopped, head pounding, eyes burning and exhausted. He drew in a deep shaky breath, sitting up again and laughing pitifully.

“This is your fault,” he said lightly, not actually angry.

“I’ll try to stop messing up,” Techno replied, laughing and smiling. He gently brushed the hair in Tommy’s eyes behind his ear and smiled at him. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you. I was going to but I just…didn’t.” Techno added, sighing.

“It’s okay…well it’s not but… I forgive you,” Tommy said. He paused for a moment. “I wouldn’t mind if later you were my dad again,” he added tentatively. Techno’s face lit up.

“You mean it?” He asked.

“Yeah…we can try again.” Tommy said, nodding.

“I’ll do better,” Techno said sincerely. He paused and thought. “Can I call you Theseus?” He added.

“Yeah…I’m okay with that. Only you though. It’s a dumb name,” Tommy replied, smiling. Techno laughed and nodded.

“Fair enough. Thank you for giving me another chance kid,” Techno said softly, holding Tommy close to his chest.

“Thank you for wanting to give it a shot,” Tommy answered, letting himself lean into Techno and relax for what felt like the first time in ages. It felt like home.

https://www.archiveofourown.org/works/32077654

[bluewhale52]

The House by the River

Summary: You, your husband and his brothers are back in the In The Soop house. But what happens when you forget the one thing you have to do during the pandemic?

Pairing: Yoongi x OC

Genre: idol!au, established relationship, fluff

Rating: R - there’s a bit of a talk about sex but nothing NSFW

WC: 2.3k

Warning: setting during the pandemic, a breach of safety protocol, Yoongi and OC sleep naked, talk of sex, pregnancy talk ~Part of the Domestic Yoongi Series~

It is a great idea, you have to admit. When your husband found out that he had two straight days of no schedules and no work, he immediately suggested going back to the house by the river, where he and his brothers had gone to for work and also for a time of healing and relaxation. 

You were so excited at the getaway idea, and although his six brothers invited themselves for the trip, you did not mind. Your daughter adores them, moreover you would have six very eager babysitters at your disposal. 

So that’s how you find yourself, on a beautiful autumn day, on a hammock and reading a book Namjoon has lent you. You hear Jimin and Taehyung back at the ping pong table, and Hoseok screaming gleefully at his toy aeroplane he has built himself. Sweet musical notes drift from the house; Namjoon and Jungkook must have gotten inspiration in nature and are creating a song together.

You hear the familiar giggles coming from the dock, and you close your book. Leaving the hammock, you head to the boathouse to meet the owners of those giggles.

Your little girl is smiling ear to ear, and shrieking in delight at Seokjin, who is carrying a bucket and two fishing rods- well, one fishing rod and a toy one. He has been regaling your daughter with stories of fishing, it was not difficult at all to get her all excited to be his fishing buddy.

“Hey baby,” you kneel as your daughter barel into your arms. “Did you catch a lot of fish?”

“Four!” She happily exclaims, wriggling out of your arms to pull Seokjin closer to you. “Look, Eomma!”

“She’s my good luck charm. Not Yoongi, not my painting, Min Soojin was all I needed to show these fish who’s boss!” He ruffles her hair. She beams at him proudly.

“Wow! Are we having sashimi tonight?” You turn to find Hoseok right behind you, peering into the bucket. He turns to your daughter, innocently asking her, “you’re going to help Uncle Jin and Uncle Kook cut the fish?”

Soojin’s face immediately turns serious, her smile all gone. “Cut? Eomma?” She turns to you. “We cut fishies?”

“Well, that’s how we get sashimi, baby.”

Her face crumples at your answer, tears start pooling in her eyes. “No, I don’t want to hurt fishies.”

The two men immediately bend down and soothe her. “No, no, we won’t cut the fishies. Uncle Hoseok is just joking, right?” Seokjin gives Hoseok a stare.

“Yes, I was only joking, Soojin-ah.” Hoseok cuddles her. “Hey, do you want to see the plane I made?”

Soojin shakes her head. “No, I want to take fishies home so you don’t cut her.”

Hoseok resigns to his fate. He knows now your four year old daughter will see him as an evil villain, out to cut all the fish in the world.

“Baby,” you coo at Soojin. “Why don’t you, Uncle Jin and Uncle Hobi return the fish to the river?”

Seokjin glares at you. You know how challenging it was for him to catch even a single fish on his last trip here, and on the day he caught FOUR, he can’t even enjoy one as a sashimi.

Hoseok on the other hand, jumps at his chance of redemption. “Yes, that’s a great idea! Let’s do that, Soojin. Let’s free the fish!”

Soojin looks at Hoseok doubtfully. He grabs the bucket from Seokjin and offers his hand to your daughter. She gingerly puts her hand in his, and her other hand reaches for Seokjin’s.

Over your daughter’s head, Seokjin whispers sharply at Hoseok. “YOU put the fish back.”

You watch them squat by the dock, laughing along with Seokjin and Soojin as Hoseok squeals in disgust as he picks a fish out of the bucket and throws it inelegantly into the river. After the fourth fish is back in the water, Soojin is satisfied and her mood is back to her cheery self.

You look at your watch. 5pm. It’s time to get your husband out of his makeshift studio. “Soojin, want to see Appa?” You call out.

“No! Plane!” She points at Hoseok who is winding his toy plane again.

“Go get Yoongi. We’ll look after her.” Seokjin offers, and you give him a grateful smile. It IS nice to have your husband’s band mates around.

You walk up towards the campervan by the upper house. Your husband specifically made the request for the van to be there. You knock on the door, and you open it only after you hear his gruff response from inside.

“Hey babe,” you greet him from the door. “It’s just past five.”

Yoongi stretches behind the laptop and all his equipments. Rubbing his face, he mumbles, “Already?”

You open the door wider, letting more sun inside the dark campervan. “Did you manage to get all your work done?”

Yoongi gestures for you to come inside. You step in, and sit next to him. “Wanna hear?” He offers.

“Of course.” You take the headphones from his hands. You love how he always shares his rough drafts with you, even before he shares them with his members. It doesn’t matter that you know zilch about music, he loves watching you reacting to his creations.

He presses play, and your eyes widen at the sounds filling your ears. You turn to smile at him, pride on your face. He returns your smile with his own gummy one.

You love this kind of moment with Yoongi. You don’t need dates at fancy restaurants or expensive gifts like big diamond necklaces. Just time with him, alone like this, is enough. He watches you bopping along to his music, and burst out laughing in embarrassment as you scrunch your face at his attempt at a high note.

When the song ends, you take off the headphone and kiss him. “Well, Min PD-nim, I think you have another hit there.”

“You say that to all my songs.” He brushes away your compliment as he starts packing up his things.

“Well, it’s true. I’m not just saying that because you’re my husband.” You stand and move to the door to give him more space in the cramped sitting area of the campervan. You report to him about Soojin’s fishing experience earlier while Yoongi is putting his equipments in the bags.

“So Hobi actually held the fish?” Yoongi chuckles.

You nod. “I regret not capturing it on video. It was so funny.” You open the door and you both walk towards the upper house. “OH MY GOD!”

You exclaim as you see the state of the kitchen. Yoongi curses next to you.

All the foods you have bought for the stay are scattered all over the counter and the floor. Packages ripped open, vegetables and fruits half eaten.

“Oh no, did an animal- or a pack of them- get in?” You lift a bag of bitten and nibbled onions. “They like onions it seems.”

Your husband sighs. “Guess we’ll have to go out for dinner then. There’s no way we can salvage any of this.”

You agree with him and start cleaning up. Shortly after, the kitchen is clean and free of scraps, and you both return to the main house to break the news. The members don’t seem to mind going out, Taehyung even suggests going to the burger joint he visited with Hoseok before. Seokjin and Yoongi decide they could stop by a supermarket on the way back to get enough food for breakfast and lunch for the next day.

And so off the nine of you go to the town for a burger dinner. Arriving at the small restaurant, you are shocked at how crowded it is. “Wow, the burgers here must be really good.” You comment to Taehyung.

He nods, licking his lips. “One of the best, Noona. You’ll love it.”

You smile at his enthusiasm, and also when he picks up Soojin to show her the menu board.

Then you realize something.

Your heart drops when you realise that no one, not a single person is wearing a mask. The staff, the patrons, and even you, your husband and his brothers, and your daughter, none of you is masked up.

You start to panic. Reaching for Yoongi, you tug his hand. “Babe, we’re not wearing our masks!”

“Relax, baby, we’re fine. No one recognizes us here.”

“No! Yoongi, not to hide your faces. The pandemic isn’t over yet and we’re not wearing masks!” You shout at him.

To your shock, no one seems to hear you, or even care that everyone in this burger joint is ignoring the most important safety protocol. You panic even further, and while making your way to Taehyung to take Soojin back, you feel something tugging the back for your cardigan.

You turn to chide Yoongi, thinking it is him who is pulling your clothes. You gasp when you find no one behind you. Not Yoongi, not Namjoon, not anyone you came to the place with. In fact, the whole place has become empty, but for a little boy standing in front of you.

He has feline eyes, much like Yoongi’s, and his complexion is as milky white as your husband’s too. He looks up at you with such innocence, and you kneel down to meet him at eye level.

“Hi,” you greet him. “Are you okay? Where are your parents?”

The boy continues to look at you silently, then he fishes something out of his packet. It is a folded K94 mask. He offers it to you.

“For you, Eomma.” He says shyly.

=======

You sit up, gasping out loud. You immediately reach for your face, feeling for a mask around your mouth and nose. Your fingers touch bare skin directly, which sends you into a panic.

You start to look around for a mask frantically, only to find yourself... in your bedroom in Seoul? And your husband is stirring awake next to you. You reach for the baby monitor, and relief floods over you as you see on the screen that your daughter Soojin is sleeping peacefully in her room.

“Babe,” Yoongi sits up next to you, voice still thick with sleep. “You okay?”

You place a hand on your bare chest. Your heart is still beating fast. “I just had the craziest dream.”

Yoongi reaches for you and pull you down to lie with him. Rubbing your back, he asks you to tell him your dream.

“We were back in the house, that In the Soop house,” you begin. “We were having such a good time, Soojin was laughing, the boys were all there too.”

You try to focus but bits and pieces of the dream are already forgotten in your mind. “And somehow we all went out for dinner, and no one was wearing masks, Yoongs, including us and I panicked I think?”

Your husbands hands are soothing you. “And that’s when you woke up?”

“No...There’s something else.” You struggle to remember. “There’s a boy I think, and I thought he was lost, but he gave me a face mask.”

Yoongi stops rubbing you. “The boy gave you a mask?” He sounds tickled.

“It’s a dream, it doesn’t have to make sense.” You playfully swat his chest.

He nuzzles your hair. “You dream of the weirdest things.”

You giggle in his embrace. Your naked bodies pressed closer as sleepiness starts to disappear, slowly replaced by something more carnal.

You suddenly remember something. “Oh my god, Yoons!” You push Yoongi away. He leans back, confused.

“What if that was a conception dream? The boy called me Eomma.”

Your husband looks at you as if you have grown two heads. “A conception dream?”

“Well, we may have conceived a child tonight, considering... you know, how many times you came in me.”

“Only twice but thanks for the ego boost.”

“I’m serious!” You give him a stern look. “What if we conceived a baby tonight, and that was my conception dream? Oh my god, how could my conception dream be of a boy giving me a K94 mask?”

Yoongi starts laughing. “And what do you think that would mean? We’re gonna have a son who’d become a doctor? That wouldn’t be so bad, right?”

You pout. “Now you’re just teasing me.”

He cradles you back in his arms. You have talked with your husband before about giving Soojin a sibling. Your hand unconsciously moves down to your tummy. You and Yoongi have foregone all birth controls tonight, and you hope one of his swimmers has made it.

Yoongi strokes your hair gently. “You know, since you have the conception dream already, why don’t we make sure it doesn’t go to waste?”

His hands are moving down your body, sending sparks all over.

“I agree, Min Yoongi. You better give me a baby tonight. Just in case the first two times weren’t quite successful.”

Laughing, he rolls over to be on top of you, determined to get you all nice and pregnant by the time morning comes.

A/N: I actually had the dream OC had - minus the boy with the K94 mask. The fact that Miss Rona actually invaded my dream, that was just so crazy I had to write it down! And eventually it became this little piece of a fic 😄 Please remember to wear your mask, social distance and stay safe! 💜

Published 08022021

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 36: Entwine

"But Harry, we just think you'd be so much happier if you-"

"Found someone to settle down with," Harry finished for Hermione. At this point he'd heard the lecture so many times he could recite it in his sleep.

She sighed, "We just worry-"

"That I'm lonely and miserable," Harry said. "I know."

"We love you, mate," Ron said, clapping him on the shoulder.

"I know," Harry said, and it was true he did know, otherwise he would have probably stopped being friends with them by this point. "I love you guys, too. But you have to stop setting me up on dates."

Hermione stared calculatingly at him, "Two weeks," she said. "I'll give you two weeks reprieve and if you've started dating someone by then we'll leave it."

-------

He was still stewing on this conundrum when he stopped in to pick up a cup of coffee and (hopefully) a pastry the following morning.

"Morning, Potter," Malfoy called over his shoulder without even looking up to see him.

"That's going to bite you in the arse someday," Harry said as he stepped up and rested his elbows on the counter.

"I've told you," Malfoy said, turning around and handing him a cup of coffee that Harry knew would be made perfectly and a pastry bag that had Harry's mouth already watering, "You have a very distinct magical aura. I know it's you."

Harry rolled his eyes, but he was secretly charmed. "When you say things like that I completely understand how you and Luna get on so well."

Malfoy rolled his eyes but there was a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

It suddenly occurred to Harry that he got on pretty well with Malfoy, too. "Hey," Harry said, opening his mouth to speak in true Griffyndor fashion without hesitating to think. "You're single aren't you?"

(Read more below the cut)

Malfoy groaned, "Not you, too. My friends are always harping on me about dating. I'm perfectly fine-"

"Right, yeah. Of course you are," Harry hastened to add, "I am, too, obviously and that's the point."

"Potter drink your coffee, you're making even less sense than usual," Malfoy said.

"No, listen. Pretend to date me. Please, Malfoy, I'm literally begging. I will do anything to get my friends to stop setting me up on horrible dates."

Malfoy stared at him for a long moment, "That's an interesting idea, Potter."

"It's a fantastic idea," Harry assured him. "I promise to be the best fake boyfriend you've ever had."

"What would it involve?" Malfoy asked, slowly.

Harry thought for a minute, "We could go on 'dates' and just, you know, hang out; we can have dinner together, go to quidditch games, whatever you want. And then when we're out with friends we'll just sit together, maybe hold hands or something? I haven't thought it through yet but what do you say?"

Malfoy tilted his head to the side, "I'd say you're in luck, Potter, because I had a really bad date last night with a bloke that Pansy tried to set me up with. So, let's do it. Merlin knows I could use a break."

"Done," Harry said, grinning widely at the other man, "Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?"

The corner of Malfoy's, Draco's, lips tilted up, "Sure. Where did you have in mind?"

"Do you like Italian?"

Draco nodded.

"Perfect. I get off at 4:00 today, do you want to meet here?"

"Sure," Draco replied with a little grin.

Harry smiled back, "Thanks for the coffee and the pastry. And I'm looking forward to see you tonight, sweetheart."

Draco laughed, "Disgusting. Get out of here you prat."

Harry placed a hand over his heart as he backed toward the door, "You have the sweetest way with words."

The other man shook his head but he was smiling as widely as Harry.

This was clearly the best idea that Harry had ever had.

--------

This was the worst idea Harry had ever had. Not because he and Draco didn't get on, but because they did.

Within two weeks Harry was spending more of his free time in Draco's company than out of it. They'd gone out to eat together eleven times (in thirteen days!), they'd taken Teddy to the park together, and Harry stopped by the coffee shop twice a day now and arrived half an hour early so he could spend time talking to Draco before he had to leave for work.

Yes, he was getting up early just so he could have more time to spend with Draco.

He was in so much trouble.

And it was only going to get worse since they were attending pub night tonight with all of their friends and they'd agreed that holding hands, casual touching, pet names, and the like were all acceptable for the evening.

Harry was standing outside the pub, waiting for Draco and trying to get himself under control, when the other man appeared.

"Ready?" Draco asked, giving him a small but genuine smile that had Harry's stomach doing back flips.

"Yeah," Harry said, nodding once to himself.

Draco held out his hand, wiggling his fingers for Harry to take.

He reached over and slid his fingers through Draco's, their hands fit perfectly together, and Harry thought he might be having a heart attack. Holding someone's hand shouldn't feel this good.

He was absolutely, entirely fucked.

"Alright?" Draco asked.

"Yeah," he answered but his voice came out all funny and breathless, and honestly, if he could have punched himself in the face he would have. He cleared his throat, "Yeah, fine," he said. "Let's go."

And as if holding Draco's hand hadn't been enough, once they got inside the pub, Draco sat next to him and rested his hand at the top of Harry's spine, his fingers trailing lightly over Harry's neck and wrapping around the curls at the base of his skull.

It was like he was in a bubble; conversations were happening all around him, people were laughing and joking, people were probably telling all sorts of stories but he didn't process a word.

Slowly, he forced himself to relax, leaning into Draco's side and letting his hand slip over to rest on Draco's knee.

The other man gave his neck a gentle squeeze in response as he continued his discussion with Luna.

"Harry," Hermione said, waving a hand to get his attention.

"Yeah?" he asked, perking up and trying to ignore the tingles racing up and down his spine as Draco's fingernails scratched lightly at his scalp.

"You were a bit lost there, mate," Ron said.

He smiled, "Sorry, just a bit out of it."

"That's alright," Hermione said, "I was just saying that you and Draco seem to be really good together."

"Yeah," Harry said weakly, glancing over at the other man who was quite engrossed in a conversation with Pansy and Luna. "Yeah," he repeated. "He's really something."

Hermione nodded, "You seem to be good for each other."

"Yeah," he said, feeling a bit sick because they did seem good for each other, they did somehow make sense. "Sorry, could you excuse me for a minute?" he asked as he stood up and fled the table, making his way quickly to the restroom.

He all but ran into a stall and locked it behind him, barely managing to stop himself from banging his head against the wall. This wasn't supposed to have happened. He wasn't supposed to have fallen for Draco Malfoy.

"Harry?" a voice called.

He held his breath, maybe if he just didn't make any noise Draco would go away and he could finish having his crisis in peace.

"I can see your shoes," the other man said as he knocked softly on the door. "Let me in?"

Reluctantly, Harry opened the stall and made room for Draco to slip in with him.

"Do you want to tell me why you've been acting like an insane person escaped from the psychiatric ward tonight?"

He winced, tried to think about what he could say, how he could deflect, but what came out was, "I don't want to pretend."

Draco's brow furrowed, "This was your idea," he said. "And if you wanted to stop all you had to do was say so."

"No," Harry said, reaching out to stop the other man from leaving. "That's not-" he huffed and entwined his fingers with Draco's. "I mean that I don't want this to be pretend."

Draco stared at him uncomprehendingly so Harry continued, "Holding hands with someone has never felt like this. Going on dates with someone has never been this much fun. I want to be around you all the time, even when you're making me crazy."

"I don't understand."

He sighed, "I can't pretend with you because none of this is pretend for me any more."

Draco blinked once, then he leaned forward and caught Harry's lips with his own. The hand not holding Harry's came up to cup his cheek and tip he head down so he could kiss him more easily and Harry's body lit up like a firework.

He pushed Draco back a step until his back hit the wall and pressed his body against the other man's. Harry's body had been made for this. Every neuron was firing away happily, every atom of his being singing with joy at the other man's proximity.

Draco's fingers threaded through Harry's hair as his tongue flicked over Harry's bottom lip. With a soft moan, Harry opened his mouth, his tongue reaching out tentatively to touch and twist with the other man's.

They might have continued on like that all night, were it not for the outer door to the restroom slamming open as a drunk man staggered in.

Draco pulled back, cheeks flushed and lips swollen. He put a finger over Harry's lips and pressed a kiss to his nose, and Harry wasn't quite sure how he hadn't simply melted into a puddle of goo yet.

Once the man left, Draco removed his finger and pressed one more gentle kiss to Harry's lips. "This isn't pretend for me either," he murmured.

Harry smiled, "No more pretending."

"Honesty about where we're at from here on out," Draco added with a smile.

And it was a promise they kept until the day they died. They both had to wear masks for the outside world but they never hid from one another.

-----------

Day 35: Tears | Day 37: Secrets

[persephone-plasmids]

Deacon X Sole

The Deathclaw Incident

[AO3]

Sole stood in front of Deacon with her eyes narrowed. A large glob of green slime dripped from the ends of her hair onto the ground with a dull splat. Deacon’s mouth twitched in the corner but he didn’t let himself smile.

“Don’t. Say. Anything.” Sole warned, her already narrowed eyes getting even smaller.

Deacon raised both of his hands up in front of him, the perfect picture of innocence. “I didn’t, Charmer.”

“And don’t call me that,” Sole said with a groan of frustration.

“Why not? I thought you loved the code name?”

“You only call me that when you want me to smile. And I don’t feel like smiling right now,” Sole said, green slime still dripping from her.

“What’s not to smile about? You just killed a Deathclaw while I stood by with a busted gun,” Deacon said, the corner of his mouth now twitching up into a ghost of a smile. “That’s awesome.”

Sole allowed her eyes to lose some of their suspicion as she nodded slowly. “I guess that’s true. I am pretty amazing.”

“And who knows, maybe Deathclaw innard chic will become the new style,” Deacon said, now letting a full-blown grin spread over his face. “Maybe that Deathclaw exploding when you used the alien blaster was the best thing to ever happen to you.”

“There it is,” Sole said, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “I knew you couldn’t actually be trying to cheer me up right now.”

Sole stomped away towards the nearby sinkhole, careful to avoid the torrential water that would try to pull her into the underground cave if she wasn’t careful.

“Wait, where are you going? I was totally trying to cheer you up!” Deacon said, trotting to catch up to Sole.

He thought it was cute the way she huffed under her breath when she was mad. And he couldn’t ignore the adorable little line that formed between her eyebrows when her face got all scrunched up in anger.

Deacon wanted to take Sole seriously, but these little characteristics that he’d grown used to over the past months were so distracting. He tried to ignore the way his chest tightened when he thought about this.

“Come on. A little slime actually looks kinda cute on you,” Deacon tried.

“I’m going to rinse off in this waterfall, and then we’re never going to talk about this again,” Sole said, pointing an accusing finger at Deacon.

“Scouts honor, boss,” Deacon said, holding up two fingers.

“You were never a scout,” Sole scoffed with a roll of her eyes.

“I totally was. I was the leader of my bear pack… or... whatever they call it,” Deacon said.

Sole shook her head, her face still a perfect mask of annoyance. But when Deacon watched her carefully, he could see the small ghost of a smile that threatened to give her away.

He was getting to her. He was cheering her up.

The thought made his heart leap in his chest and suddenly, the only thing that mattered to him was making that familiar smile appear on Sole’s face.

“We roasted radroach meat and sang songs to get badges on those little sash things. It was adorable,” Deacon said, his easy smile returning to his face.

“Deacon, boy scouts weren’t even a thing in your lifetime. The only reason you know about them is because you’re such a book nerd,” Sole said, her voice significantly softer now.

“You say ‘book nerd’ like it’s a bad thing.”

Sole let a soft small smile pass over her face, another emotion there that Deacon couldn’t quite decipher. Fondness? He hoped that was it.

“It’s definitely not a bad thing,” Sole said. She looked at the ground for a moment, not wanting to meet his eyes. “I actually really love that about you.”

Deacon worked hard to keep his face carefully neutral at her words.

He had never been so grateful for the sunglasses he constantly wore.

“So, are you going to wash that Deathclaw slime off you or what?” Deacon asked after a moment of uncomfortable silence. His tone was light and teasing. He’d mastered the art of appearing calm and collected when he felt anything but.

“Good point.”

“We don’t want you sending off some weird Deathclaw mating pheromones or something. A bunch of Deathclaws looking for a good time is the last thing we need.”

Sole pulled a face of disgust at this. “Yeah, let's avoid that.”

Without another word, Sole turned her back on Deacon and carefully picked her way across the slippery wet rocks to where the waterfall crashed into the sinkhole.

Deacon told himself that he watched Sole to make sure she didn’t lose her footing and get sucked into the underground cave, but he knew that was a lie. Of course, being the incredible liar he was, it only took a moment for him to actually believe that that was what he was doing.

His ability to lie to himself was unmatched.

Deacon watched as the water crashed around Sole, washing off the slime from the Deathclaw fight and the muck from their travel across the Commonwealth that day. Her skin was shiny under the waterfall and her clothes clung to her in a way that made Deacon think he should look away. But he didn’t.

When she finished, Deacon quickly turned away, hoping she wouldn’t be able to see the blush in his cheeks.

Blushing? Really? He was a highly trained Railroad agent who had worked hard to remove any attachments from his life. The fact that he was blushing over a fully-clothed woman was just embarrassing. This was hardly the most compromising position he’d ever been in with someone of the opposite sex.

“I feel so much better.”

Deacon jumped at the sound of Sole’s voice beside him. He had been so focused on appearing uninterested in her little impromptu shower that he’d actually lost track of her for a moment.

“You smell a lot better now too,” Deacon joked, trying to keep his voice light and disinterested.

“Maybe I should have just stayed disgusting. It would be some nice payback for all the showtunes,” Sole said, giving Deacon a sideways smile that made him feel warm all over.

“You should feel privileged that I give our missions their own soundtrack,” Deacon answered. “Besides, I have the voice of an angel and you know it.”

Sole’s sideways smile morphed into a full grin as she watched him. “You do have the voice of an angel.”

Again, the sunglasses were proving to be extremely helpful today in a way Deacon had never anticipated.

“Glad you think so, Charmer.” Deacon let his own smile grow in the quickly fading light. “Wait, am I allowed to call you that again or are you still anti-smiling?”

Sole took a step closer to Deacon with an amused look. “You’re allowed to make me smile again. Now that I’m all clean.”

“Glad to hear it. If I can’t make you smile, what am I even doing here?”

His question was rhetorical but he felt it to his core.

Deacon had been excited for a new person to joke around with when he and Sole had been assigned to start doing missions together, but he knew something had changed. He craved the satisfaction of her smile. Every time it ghosted across her face, he felt like he’d accomplished something incredible. And in those rare instances when he actually managed to make her laugh, it was like he finally knew why he was still wandering across this barren wasteland. Why he hadn’t given up all those years ago after losing Barbara.

Because now, for the first time in years, there was a glimmer of hope. A hint that he could actually be genuinely happy again.

Sole shivered in the dying light, her clothes still wet and clinging to her.

“You’re going to catch a cold if we don’t get you warm,” Deacon said, taking off his leather jacket and wrapping it around Sole’s shoulders.

“Well look at you, Deacon. Who knew you could be such a gentleman,” Sole said, looking up at him through her eyelashes.

Deacon was positive that Sole didn’t know what she was doing to him right now. She was being playfully flirtatious, the way they always were with each other. But for him, it felt like she had his heart in a vice. Every smile only tightened the grip she had on it.

Deacon swallowed hard, desperately trying to hold onto his lighthearted facade that was one smile away from shattering into a million pieces.

“You’re not the only one who can be a charmer,” Deacon said, but his voice sounded all wrong. He hoped Sole wouldn’t notice.

Without thinking, Deacon put his arm around Sole’s shoulders protectively. “Let’s head back to Goodneighbor and get you warmed up.”

Deacon tried to take a step forward, but Sole didn’t budge. When he looked down at her, Sole was watching him, her eyes serious. It was an expression he didn’t see her wear often.

“Something wrong?” Deacon asked, his voice still giving away just how keyed up he was.

Sole swallowed hard and Deacon couldn’t help but notice the rise and fall of her chest. Her breathing was shallow. “I just… thank you for always having my back.”

Deacon shrugged nonchalantly. “You’ve got my back too. It’s just what we do in the Railroad.”

“Just one big dysfunctional family with guns?” Sole asked, repeating Deacon’s words back to him. It had been one of the first things he’d said to her that had made her smile all those months ago.

“Exactly.” His words came out soft. Softer than he’d meant for them to. But their close proximity made him feel like he needed to whisper.

Sole’s eyes darted down to Deacon’s lips for only a split second, but it was enough time for him to suddenly feel self-conscious. Involuntarily, his eyes also trailed down to Sole’s full lips, but he had the added benefit of hiding behind his sunglasses.

“Deacon… all joking aside, I really appreciate you watching out for me.”

“There’s no such thing as ‘all joking aside’,” Deacon said, his eyes still transfixed on the way Sole took her bottom lip between her teeth when she was nervous.

“Maybe just for a second?” Sole asked, turning her body so that she was now facing Deacon head on. She shifted her weight, bringing them even closer together.

He could feel the heat coming off of her body in waves, even as she shivered.

Sole took Deacon’s hand in hers, lacing their fingers together. Deacon’s breath caught in his throat at the unexpected closeness, making him feel ridiculous all over again.

“I guess I can be serious for one second,” Deacon answered. “But it might actually kill me.”

Sole leaned into him, her body now touching his. “It’ll be worth it,” she said, her voice low in a way that gave Deacon chills of his own.

The fabric of Deacon’s white shirt instantly dampened from the water still dripping off of Sole, but he hardly noticed, instead focusing on just how close they now were.

Sole leaned up and touched her nose to Deacon’s lightly, closing her eyes. Deacon seldom saw Sole in such a vulnerable position and the amount of trust it showed shook Deacon to his core.

He tried to be professional; at least, as professional as he ever was. He tried to tell Sole this was a bad idea, that it would make things complicated going forward. But he didn’t do any of that. Instead, he closed the last few inches between them, pressing his lips gently against hers.

Even though Sole had been sending him some obvious signals, Deacon still worried he’d misread the situation and she’d pull away from him. He was surprised when, instead, he felt Sole’s hands press against his stomach, slowly running up his body to his chest and finally behind his neck to pull him firmly against her.

Deacon let his hands rest on Sole’s waist, drawing her to him in the now dark wasteland. With the sound of the rushing waterfall beside them and the occasional distant gunfire that was all-too-common in the Commonwealth, Deacon revelled in this rare stolen moment.

His lips moved over Sole’s slowly and deliberately, wanting to take his time with the kiss. She felt soft and perfect. The way her fingers tangled in his dark hair and her shirt soaked his own grounded him in the moment.

The kiss lasted only a moment, but when Sole pulled away, Deacon felt the inevitable shift in energy between them. He already missed the feeling of Sole’s lips on his own.

“So, did it kill you?” Sole asked, her eyes searching Deacon’s face.

“It did,” he confirmed, still breathless from the kiss. “But you were right. It was worth it.”

Sole placed her hand gently against Deacon’s face, her thumb running along his cheekbone. Every time she touched him, it sparked something inside of him that he hadn’t felt in years.

It was dangerous but thrilling at the same time. Part of him wanted to give into it, but the other part was far too scared to explore those feelings.

“Consider it payment for the jacket,” Sole said, her grin returning before stepping away from Deacon’s embrace.

He instantly missed the warmth from her body, instead left with a dampened shirt and empty arms.

“That jacket is only on loan, you know. I expect it back,” Deacon said, impressed by his own ability to sound nonchalant when, inside, he was dying to be close to Sole again.

“Fine. I’ll give it back one day,” Sole said. “But it looks much better on me.”

“That’s obvious,” Deacon answered. “And if this is the way you pay me back for loaning you a jacket, remind me to give you any article of clothing you ever ask for.”

Deacon raised his eyebrows suggestively at Sole, making her laugh. The sound was soft and musical.

“Now we’re even Sneakin Deacon,” sole called over her shoulder as she sauntered away into the darkness.

Her tone was joking, but before she turned away, he saw the look in her eyes. It was the same one that hid in his own behind his trademark shades.

The kiss had devastated her and much as it had him. It had meant more to her than she was letting on and he knew it.

They were so screwed.

(Part 2)

[tennessoui]

1. Soulmates AU please! It is definitely my guilty pleasure trope

hello im only three months ish late maybe four but this is also 3.4k long and it's just wild i mean we're talking soul mates, superheroes, rushed world building, superhero names this is a trip this is something i wrote after waking up from a four hour nap this ever had a chance and also it's sad

1. Soul Mates (+ 42. Star Crossed Lovers)

“You shouldn’t have come,” Obi-Wan says harshly, pulling the children--they’re just goddamn children--into his apartment and slamming the door behind them. “Did anyone see you?”

The children--all four of them--stay quiet. Obi-Wan wants to wring their necks. He knows why they’re here. He’d rather them die on the streets than suffer through what they’re obviously here about.

But if that were really true, he would have just left them on his doorstep.

“Did anyone see you?” he asks again.

“Not that we noticed,” one of the girls in the middle says. Shili, dressed in a blue and white striped sensible jumpsuit and sporty cape. The leader of the new generation of superheroes and she sounds like she hasn’t even hit puberty yet.

Obi-Wan is suddenly very, very tired.

“Kam,” Shili gestures to the person next to her and a little behind, a tall boy with a helmet covering his face and white and blue armor covering the rest of him, “says he didn’t pick up anything with his sensors. We were safe. We’re not trying to get you caught, sir. We just need to talk to you.”

“You could kick us out,” the other girl points out, crossing her arms over her chest. She’s not even bothering to wear a domino mask, but Obi-Wan doubts very much he’s looking at her real appearance. She’s Mirial, of course.

Which makes the other boy in a padded white and orange suit Mando. Four of the fifty or so remaining Jedi superheroes are in his house.

Obi-Wan sighs and turns to pad down the hallway. “Shoes off,” he calls behind his shoulder. “And does anyone want any tea?”

“No thank you,” Shili responds politely, falling into step behind him.

“Sit,” he tells them roughly when he notices the four of them standing awkwardly in his cramped dining room. “Sit down.”

He puts the kettle on anyway, and bangs around the cabinets for a few seconds to find an unopened bag of chips and a sleeve of probably stale cookies.

He doesn’t have much else to offer them though. Not now.

Weren’t you the one always telling me to eat my vegetables? A laughing voice murmurs into his ear. Look at you now.

Obi-Wan has to stand for a second in his small and dirty kitchen, chips clutched in one hand and cookies in the other, and breathe for an impossibly long moment.

This is why he had not wanted to ever see another Jedi in his life. All they brought with them were questions and ghosts.

Obi-Wan has enough of those as it is.

The kettle goes off and he pours the hot water into his mug. The cowardly part of him that hasn’t faced a fight in ten years now wants to wait here until the tea has finished steeping and then think of a thousand other excuses to not ever leave the kitchen again. He's good at thinking of excuses. He calls them reasons and lives his life with them.

But he has always known someone would eventually come looking for answers. That had always been one of the prices he knew he would eventually have to pay.

He notices immediately upon entering the dining room that they’ve saved him a seat, if it counts as saving someone a seat when they’ve rearranged the chairs so one is on one side of the table and the other two are squeezed opposite it.

“I hope you don’t mind that I’ve brought snacks to my own interrogation,” he says blithely, depositing them onto the table in front of the children.

Kamino stares intently at them for a second, and then nods once to Shili, who reaches out to open the bag of chips. In a show of good faith, she takes one and eats it. Obi-Wan can’t see her eyes underneath the white lenses of her domino mask, but he’s quite sure she hasn’t stopped looking at him once.

“Are you sure you do not want tea, now we have established I am not going to poison you?” he asks, crossing his ankles and taking a sip from his own mug.

“It’s a bit too warm out there for hot tea,” Mirial says disdainfully, looking at her nails. “You know, what with the world on fire.”

“But I’d take an iced one, if you have it,” Shili leans forward.

Obi-Wan pauses, drink halfway to his mouth.

He sets it down gently on the wood of his table. “Ah. Going straight in, aren’t we?”

“There’s not much time for anything else,” Mando says, and at least he sounds a bit apologetic.

“A weighty statement from someone who can manipulate time itself,” Obi-Wan hums.

“Only for a few seconds,” Mando mutters behind his helmet, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“That’s because you don’t have much in the way of training, young man,” Obi-Wan tells him gently with a hint of steel behind it “Back in my day--”

He cuts himself off. He doesn’t know why. Clearly, they know who he used to be. Otherwise they wouldn’t be here. He’s really just delaying the inevitable, but his throat feels tight. This truth, so long unspoken, is hard to drag into his mouth. And yet, every second he doesn’t speak it, it’s bashing itself to death against the backs of his teeth.

“Would you like us to tell you what we’ve found out about your days?” Mirial asks, looking up from her nails. “Would that make it easier for you, Ilum?”

“Meer--” Shili starts to say, reaching out to touch the girl’s arm, rein her in, but it’s too late.

The planes of Mirial’s face change and shift and suddenly for the first time in ten years, Anakin Skywalker is sitting across from him. “Would you like to talk about the old days, or would you like me to talk about the old days?” Mirial in Anakin’s smooth baritone asks.

It’s cruel. It’s so cruel that for a second Obi-Wan wishes his heart could just stop from the pain of it all. “Please put that away,” he tells the tabletop coldly. “And please. Do not call me that.”

“Meer,” Shili murmurs, and there’s a shift in the air.

When Obi-Wan looks back up, Mirial is back to the way she always appears in press releases, green skin and all. “That was a decent impression,” he tells her. She bristles at the perceived slight, but he holds up his hand. “But when I knew him, his eyes weren’t gold. They were blue.”

“Mustafar has had golden eyes since he joined the Imps,” Mirial argues back in a way that reminds Obi-Wan of another young teenager, who never could learn how to take criticism well.

“And he was someone else before then,” he tells the girl. “He had another name and he had a mother and he had a soulmate and a--fiancee and everything.”

His hands have started to shake, so he clasps the mug tightly, though it burns him.

“Tell us,” Shili insists forcefully but compassionately. Obi-Wan had wondered before why they had chosen to make the girl whose only ability is to fly the leader of the newest Jedi team, but it must be that. It must be her compassion. “Please. You’re the only one who can.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan says. “I know. I’m the only one who is left. But if I am to demask myself, I will not do it to a table of strangers.”

The children turn to look at each other. Kamino cocks his head at Shili, who inclines her own head. Mirial shrugs. Mando shakes his head once, but Shili seems to override him, because she turns back to Obi-Wan and takes off her domino mask.

“My name is Ahsoka Tano,” she says, stumbling over the name. Obi-Wan wonders how many times she’s unmasked herself before. “Or Shili.”

She nudges Mirial, who sighs. “I’m Barriss,” she tells him grudgingly.

Kamino takes off his helmet to reveal a strong-jawed boy with a blond buzzcut. “His name is Rex,” Ahsoka says. “He can’t speak except through minds.”

Obi-Wan blinks in surprise at this. He had known that Kamino had an advanced sense of the senses, could tell something’s molecular makeup just by looking at it, could smell a gas leak from two miles away, etcetera, etcetera, but he hadn’t known the boy could communicate telepathically as well.

“And I’m his twin,” Mando sighs, taking off his own helmet and revealing a startlingly similar face, marred by a scar just across his temple. “Cody.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you all,” Obi-Wan tells them, drumming his fingers on the table. “You know already. I fought under the name Ilum. I could--”

He searches for words to describe his own powers, and settles instead on a demonstration. With a flick of his hand, the liquid in the mug rises and freezes into a miniature wave, suspended in the air.

He lets the ice drop into the mug, and inclines his head to Ahsoka. “Iced tea?” he asks wryly.

“Tell us about Mustafar,” Mando demands. What a heavy thing to carry, Obi-Wan finds himself thinking. The knowledge of all that time.

What Obi-Wan wouldn’t give to be ten years younger again. Not to even change anything, though he would be stupid to not try to. But to just enjoy the moment for what it had been in the end: just a moment.

“We didn’t call him that then,” Obi-Wan sighs and rubs a hand over his face. “We called him Iego in uniform, and Anakin in civvies.

“He was...radiant. In battle and off the field. I was the leader of our team for six years until Anakin came along. And I just knew as soon as I saw him that he would take everything from me. But he wouldn’t have had to take it. I would have given it to him right then.”

“I didn’t think he was that attractive,” Ahsoka mumbles, and then slaps a hand over her mouth as if afraid she’s spoken out of turn and ruined the story so completely that Obi-Wan won’t say anything else.

Instead, Obi-Wan laughs but it doesn’t sound much like a laugh at all. “Well, to each is his own, of course,” he says when he thinks the hysteria has worn off. “And finding out he carried my soul mark certainly helped.”

The room is blissfully silent, which Obi-Wan is beyond thankful for. He just wants to let those never-before admitted truths hang in the air, just for a few more seconds. He almost wants to say them again actually. Anakin Skywalker is my soulmate. Anakin Skywalker carries the same mark I carry, and he always has.

“But…” Barriss says slowly, “But Mustafar’s soulmark is on his neck.”

“It’s not,” Obi-Wan murmurs, staring at the wall behind their heads. “What he has on his neck is an ice burn scar in the shape of a hand. In the shape of my hand. His actual soul mark is on his mid-back, right over his spine.”

“You tried to kill your soulmate?” Ahsoka gasps, looking horrified.

Obi-Wan smiles with no joy behind it. “I tried to save the world,” he corrects her gently.

“You said earlier…” Cody speaks up. “That Mustafar--that Anakin had a fiancee. It wasn’t you, was it?”

“No,” Obi-Wan admits. “I never told him. I...couldn’t. I wanted to wait I suppose. I. Well. My soulmark is identical to his, but it’s on my thigh. And. You know what they say about a soulmatch whose marks aren’t in the same spot.” “Star crossed,” Ahsoka whispers.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan confirms. “I decided to wait. I was a few years older than him, he had so much to learn, he needed a friend more than he needed a soulmate. I had a long list of reasons, all as iron-clad as the next. But they were excuses. I was afraid. This man, my soulmate, could control fire and sunlight itself. He burned with passion, shone with power. And I...I was cold. Too pragmatic, too quick to criticize when he needed praise. The marks were just marks. Maybe they fit together, maybe they matched. But I was terrified that we wouldn’t.

“And by the time I thought to tell him, he came to find me instead. He was in love, he said. He had been seeing a girl for months and was going to ask her to marry him. And I suppose I must have asked about his soulmate, because he told me he would rather never know his soulmate, if knowing meant losing her.”

So. So Obi-Wan had let him go, though that part doesn’t make for a good story. He had distanced himself as much as he could get away with, which is not much really, seeing as how Iego and Ilum fought best when they fought together.

But in the end, his heartbreak had been too much, even for someone as cold as Obi-Wan had been known to be. He’d put in for a temporary transfer. A remedial medical leave, a Jedi-sanctioned sabbatical so he could ostensibly connect with himself and his powers. Nothing longer than a year.

You’ll miss the wedding, Anakin had told him, heartbreak shining in his own eyes.

But his heartbreak had been nothing compared to Obi-Wan’s, and so he had left. He had needed to. It had felt like rending his soul in two, but he had.

Two weeks into his stay at a different Jedi training base, Obi-Wan had died in an explosion. “That hadn’t been Jedi sanctioned,” he tells the children in front of him wryly. “We thought it was an accident at the time, but there were too many coincidences. Too many casualties.” But Obi-Wan’s death had been the only casualty Anakin had felt. It hadn’t mattered that someone had managed to restart his heart only a few minutes later. He had died. He had died and Anakin had felt his soulmate die. He had burned his fiancee in his own uncontrollable agony. She had not survived Obi-Wan’s death, even though Obi-Wan himself had.

“I...I don’t know what happened. Still. It’s been years and I have thought of little else. She may have been standing too close to him when it happened. Or...the house may have caught on fire and she was trapped inside. Or...I don’t know. I don’t know,” he spreads his hands palm up on the table and looks at the faces of the children.

He sighs and continues. There is so little left in the story now. “The Jedi Order decided to tell the press that there had been no survivors, though there had been a few. We couldn’t know if the Imperials were behind the attack or not, so we had to be careful. The survivor’s families were told, and their soulmates. Officially, I had no family. I had...no soulmate. They didn’t tell anyone I had survived. Ilum died in that explosion. Still to this day, he's dead.

“Anakin had always been absurdly powerful...and dangerous. He’d killed the love of his life, had felt his soulmate dying, and then...heard that I too had died. The first two had destabilized him, but my death and the Jedi Order’s staunch rejection of his request to see my body, to give me a funeral...it made him even more vulnerable to outside manipulation.”

“The Imperials….” Cody murmurs.

Obi-Wan nods, lip curling up. “The Imperials,” he agrees. “The timeline is fuzzy. I spent a good part of these weeks partially dead, one foot in both worlds. I didn’t know what was going on. When I was well enough to watch the news, the Jedi told me there was a new super villain working with the Imperials, going by the name Mustafar. I trained to kill him as he was helping the Imps decimate the Jedi. All of my old team was dead. Anakin was missing. I didn’t--”

He cuts himself off and runs a hand down his face. The children are waiting on his words. He’s telling them why they’re fighting wars adults should be fighting. He’s telling them why they’re out in the field after only a month or less of training. He’s trying to tell them why he isn’t out there fighting with them, but he knows already they won’t accept his excuses.

They shouldn’t have to.

“They gave me a new uniform and a new name,” Obi-Wan picks up the story. “Hoth. And I went off to kill my soulmate.”

“But you didn’t,” Barriss says, and she sounds vaguely confused and vaguely accusatory.

“I almost did,” Obi-Wan admits, like it’s a sin, like it's salvation. “Everything about him was different. He was not the passionate but warm boy I had known. He was a forest fire. A volcano. And Mustafar’s fighting style was completely different from Iego’s. I only realized it was Anakin--my Anakin--when I managed to knock his mask off. I had my hand around his throat, but when I realized who I was fighting...I let go. I couldn’t kill him. Even after everything he did. Even knowing...knowing Iego was gone.”

The dining room is silent for a second, before three voices burst out angrily at once.

“Why aren’t you helping the Jedi?” Ahsoka asks the loudest. “Hoth--Ilum, Obi-Wan. We need you. Mustafar--the Imperials...they’re not going to stop. They’ve killed so many Jedi. We need you to help us.”

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan says. “I cannot.”

“You used to be a hero,” Barriss accuses. “Now what are you? A hollowed out, sad man.”

“I was never a hero,” he snaps. “I followed orders. Anyone can do that.”

“You were the best,” Cody says quietly, cutting Obi-Wan to the bone. “You led the Geonosis team for six years. I studied you in class. You were...the best.”

“I wasn’t,” Obi-Wan disagrees just as quietly. “But perhaps you all are.”

“You haven’t even told us any weakness we could use against him in battle!” Barriss shouts, standing up suddenly, which causes the chair to clatter over. “You’ve been no help at all! I’m leaving, this is a waste of time!”

“Barriss--!” Ahsoka cries after the girl, grabbing her discarded mask and taking after her.

Cody opens his mouth and then closes it. He jams the helmet back onto his head. “The soulmark. You said it’s on his hip?”

Obi-Wan smiles mirthlessly. Cody is trying to see if he can catch him in a lie, if this is actually good tactical information or not. “It’s a few inches below his shoulder blades, right over his spine.”

Cody nods once and then files out, leaving Obi-Wan alone in the room with the silent, still helmetless Rex.

“I just told him how to kill my supervillain soulmate,” Obi-Wan tells Rex, even though he’s really talking to himself. “Soulmarks, even dead ones, are extremely sensitive. If Anakin had hit me with his fire on my other thigh, I would be dead. Not just crippled. Muscle, young man, doesn’t grow back easily.”

He rubs a hand over the leg in question, staring down at the uneven way his pants lay over the old injury. It aches from the walking he’s forced it to do today, from trying to walk normally im front of these powerful strangers.

Rex taps the table to get him to look up, and then gestures to his own eyes.

“I?” Obi-Wan asks, confused.

Rex rolls his eyes and then mimes writing something.

“Ah, there should be a pen and pad in the kitchen?” he trails off as the teenager goes to retrieve the aforementioned things.

It takes a second longer than it should, and he comes out carrying just a slip of paper with his helmet forced back onto his head.

With a flick of his fingers, the paper’s lying on the table and Rex is following his teammates out the door and out of Obi-Wan’s apartment and hopefully out of his life forever.

Curious, Obi-Wan grabs the note and unfolds it to read.

We thought Musta. had yel. eyes because all the top Imps have yel. eyes. But if Ankn had blue eyes, then mybe none of the imps should have yel eyes.

No one knows what sidious power is -> what if it’s mind control?

Obi-Wan puts the note down onto the table with shaking hands. He wishes desperately he had never read it.

Because those words plant a seed of hope in his chest he isn’t sure he’ll be able to live without now.

What if Anakin--his Anakin--what if he’s in there still? What if Obi-Wan had abandoned him to ten years of brainwashing and mind control with not much of a fight at all?

But more pressingly, what if there’s hope for him? For both of them? Still, after all this time?

[gwynrielsupremacist]

A COURT OF LIGHT AND SHADOWS

Chapter 2: Reason

Read it at AO3

Masterlist

If it were up to Azriel, right now he would rather be juggling burning knives.

Blindfolded.

And in a dark room.

They were in the huge alcove of the High Lord of the Night Court, as Rhysand removed shirts and jackets from his dressing room that he claimed were appropriate for Cassian's attire at his ceremony.

Although Azriel, sitting in one of the chairs that were nearby, watching the scene with his chin on his hands, he was rethinking why he thought this would be a good idea.

After the 'incident' with Elain and Rhys, he had made up his mind that he would never think of Elain that way again.

Of course, that was rather difficult when she was always where the Spymaster passed.

Was he going to the kitchen? Elain would be there with Nuala and Cerridwen.

Was he going to the living room? Elain would be there with Feyre and Nyx.

Possibly one day he would find her in his bed, wearing lingerie, as a gift just for hia enjoyment, tearing off the tiny pieces of undergarments and-

"Azriel?" The sound of his name brought him out of his trance. "Have you been paying attention to something I've said in the last 20 minutes?" 

He knew that his shadows, moving slowly over his neck, covered any variation of his arousal but, just in case, he watched Rhysand's reaction, knowing if he knew the reason for his daydreaming, he would be enraged.

However, Rhys's face revealed absolutely nothing, only joy for his brother and bewilderment on the part of the Shadowsinger.

Usually Azriel was the one who had to warn his brothers to pay attention to him, not the other way around.

He shook his head to Cassian's question, to which he sighed, visibly tired and irritated: "I was wondering if navy would look better than black, but I have no idea what Nesta would like." He muttered. Apparently having a mating ceremony wasn't all the color of roses. "I'll stick with the black one, I  don't think the suit will last long after we go to that cabin." He announced as he and Rhys gave each other knowing glances, grinning mischievously.

That was another arrow to his badly wounded heart.

He was happy for his brothers, of course he was.  There was no other male who deserved a mate as much as Rhys and Cassian, but ...

What about him?

Azriel stopped intervening in the conversation at that moment. He usually did not want to participate in those conversations, but it seemed that that day he was the worst of all.

"The worst day will be the mating ceremony, Shadowsinger. You must prepare for that day if you do not want to fall from grace" Recommended their shadows.

It was true. There would be no worse day than the ceremony.

With Rhys's ceremony it had been the same. As soon as the ceremony was over, he had to go to a Sex club to get rid of the arousal and despair that he felt throughout his body.

It was not fair. Was the Cauldron so macabre?

Had he done so much harm to the world that they deprived him of the experience of having a mate?

He swallowed silently, keeping his face mask neutral, no emotion leaving his face.

He thanked whoever had given him that ability, it was fucking useful at times like these.

Three hours later, Cassian ended up deciding what costume to wear, the black one, and the conversation between the commander and the High Lord died as well.

Cassian left, muttering that he had forgotten something in the House of Wind, although it was possibly an excuse.

The atmosphere in the room had quickly become charged, before the challenging stares of those two.

Although Azriel supposed that he should stay away from the House as well, since he did not need his shadows to tell him that it had served him with a double purpose, he was probably going to fuck Nesta until they both could not hold on foot.

Azriel started to get up, but was prevented by a force in his chest from Rhysand.

"Maybe he had found out about my scent change, after all." He guessed, preparing his best poker face for the onslaught the High Lord was going to bring him.

They stared at each other, studying possible reactions, waiting for who was the first to speak.  Things had gotten tense on their part since Solstice.

Azriel knew, as did Rhysand, that no matter how much he wanted to possess Elain's body, he would never betray Rhysand. Punch him, maybe.  But he will never betray his High Lord.

"I notice you are somewhat distracted, Azriel."  The High Lord commented, sitting down on a chair and intertwining his fingers, dropping them into his lap. "I hope there were no overnight escapades on either side." Rhysand knew perfectly well what he was talking about.

Like Azriel.

"None. I did what you asked." He secured, leaning back, with the advantage that the High Lord didn't know that in reality, his thoughts were a hell of 'wills and cannot'.

Rhysand nodded slightly, rising from his chair, to which Azriel copied the movement.

Azriel knew he shouldn't be fooling around when Rhysand was in that mode, but he couldn't help but feel like a hypocrite.

"You took Feyre away from Tamlin when she still thought she loved him. Elain doesn't love Lucien, yet you separate her from me." Azriel thought. He knew those thoughts didn't make any sense, but right now he was the only thing he could think about.

His shadows were scattered around the room, ready to attack if something happened to his master, while some were on his shoulders, caressing the area in tension.

"I want to keep it that way." Rhysand emphasized, walking ahead of him, silently asking him to follow. He did it. "Things are going bad, Azriel, I don't need any more trouble than is inevitable."

"What problems?" This one answered. "According to my spies, Koschei hasn't shown any signs of life, so I don't see what a problem there could be."

"That Koschei is not showing signs of life does not mean that he is not operating in secret." He suggested, walking into the nursery, with Nyx in the crib, sleeping peacefully.

The High Lord's face changed dramatically.

It was no longer the face of the most powerful High Lord in history. It was the face of a father watching a son, with awe and love in it.

"I can't bear that my son has to spend his early years with that bastard of Koschei in the middle."

"We will protect it." Azriel confirmed, also looking at the small bundle wrapped in sheets. "I will protect him with my own life, if necessary."

Rhysand looked into his eyes, and in a pleading voice, he said:

"Do you understand then? Why I ask you to separate from Elain?" As much as he hated doing that, he nodded. "I cannot allow jealousy and desires to be put through the protection of the court. Things are bad enough to make them worse."

As much as it was hard to keep his gaze neutral, he continued to nod, but anger crept through his mind, clouding his reason.

"And how much trouble would Elain and I have?"

Rhysand was silent for a moment. Azriel guessed

he was steadying himself so as not to punch him in front of his son's bed. Instead of doing so, he asked:

"I don't want you to avoid the question. You are not going to avoid the question." The High Lord manifested. "What the hell happened with Mor, Az?

That theme again.

"Why whenever we talk about Elain, do you end up talking about Mor?" The Spymaster snarled, the shadows preparing to attack, noting the tension in the environment.

"I do it because you have completely forgotten Mor, Azriel. You have been in love with her for over 500 years." He remembered. "I can't believe you traded Mor for Elain in so little time."

"And why do you fucking care?" He growled again, backing away from the room for fear of waking the boy.

"Mor is my cousin, Azriel, and I think I deserve an explanation. Have you given up? And now I suppose Elain will be the consolation prize, right?

It took Azriel more of the self-control he possessed not to slam his fist into the High Lord's nose. If he hadn't been his superior, Rhysand would be bleeding badly right now.

"Elain will never be a consolation prize." He barked, leaving the house and spreading his wings to fly up, but was interrupted by Rhys's hand on his arm, an anchor holding him to the ground.

"Give me a reason."  He started to say. "Tell me one fucking reason why Elain deserves to be your mate, and not Lucien's."

"Are you comparing me to… to that one?" He murmured in a voice icy and deadly, the voice that sent chills to the poor people who had to listen to it. Rhysand didn't even flinch.

"You are both different and equal at the same time." He evaded, then returning to the initial question. "Give me a logical reason, and I will allow Elain to stay with you."

Baring his teeth at him, Azriel leapt, taking flight and away from those feelings, roaring with rage when he realized that he had not a single reason to be worthy of Elain.

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[avis-writeshq]

Pretty Setters and things they remind me of

characters: oikawa, sugawara, akaashi, kenma, kageyama, atsumu

warnings: fluff [fem!reader]

other: repost (again) because tags didn’t work (again)

oikawa: staying up until four to finish assignments, star gazing, snow angels, face masks at twelve in the morning

 although oikawa might look like a flawless piece of art on the outside, on the inside he’s insecure and doing more than one hundred percent just to show that he is good enough. no, not just good enough. he wants to show that he’s better than all the people who stood over him. staying up late to watch volleyball videos and tactics is just one of his unhealthy habits. however, he does make time for himself, even thought that makes him look like a narcissistic person on the outside.

 he’s perfectly imperfect, just like snow angels. for some reason, they never turn out the way you want them to be. star gazing to oikawa is peaceful – he can finally forget the world and get lost in the billions of stars that light up the night sky. but he knows, that no matter what happens, you’ll always be his brightest star.

sugawara: forgotten algebra homework, coffee at nine in the evening, summer breezes, melted ice-cream

despite looking well put together, sugawara is a chaotic mess who has no idea what he’s doing. he put so much time in volleyball and other activities he sometimes forgets about his academics, hence the forgotten algebra homework at the bottom of his bag. he spends the rest of the evening trying to finish three chapters of overdue class work, drinking coffee late at night in a desperate attempt to get everything done.

 summer breezes are gentle, just like him. he’s caring and loving to the people he cares about, and he sacrifices so much for the sake of other people. summer breezes are cool in contrast to the glaring sun. they give comfort when needed and it’s always appreciated. melted ice-cream is for his messy but beautiful personality. despite all that, you just so happen to be his calm when he brings his own storm.

akaashi: rustic libraries, nature cafés, yelling your problems over a canyon, chicken noodle soup

 he’s naturally studious and hardworking, always doing his best to succeed despite the amount of pressure that is placed on his shoulders. he always remembers important dates and the little things in life – your favourite book, your favourite cake flavour, your favourite song. small insignificant little details that seem to be unnecessary but turn out to be the most important. nature cafés have a certain aspect to them that calms people down. it allows people to have a clear mind and a calm outlook towards their situations.

 no matter how calm and stoic he looks, akaashi tends to overthink with an anxious heart. he blames himself when things go wrong – a people pleaser who doesn’t even know it. however, he knows that keeping things to himself is unhealthy. so instead he yells it over a canyon, wide and vast as his problems get lost in the echoes. chicken noodle soup is a classic pick-me-up. it brings warmth and love into your body, healing you of illnesses. that’s what you are to akaashi. you are his warmth and his love.

kenma: late night video calls, cat beanies, two am road trips, chai lattes in the snow

 he calls you all the time to check on  you after graduating high school. university is hard, so it’s not easy to see each other in person, so video calls are the next best thing. you rant to each other about the loud dorm mates and the bad cafeteria food. you gifted kenma a cat beanie before graduation and he’s worn it ever since. it was like a way to have you with him when he was two hours away from you.

 of course he would go on road trips. the only reason he would ever go was for a stream, but nevertheless, it was a fun experience. chai lattes were one of kenma’s favourite drinks. You accidentally got the wrong order and gave him a chai, and he’s loved it ever since. he drinks it whenever it’s cold outside, mainly because it gives him a sense of warmth. it was a similar feeling to when he was with you. but you could give him that warmth with just a small smile.

kageyama: walks in the park, dark chocolate mochas, promise rings, ballroom dancing

 no matter the weather, kageyama loved walking in the park with you, hand in hand. in the middle of winter, he would tuck your hand into his jumper pocket to keep it warm. dark chocolate mochas just so happen to be one of his favourite drinks – it isn’t too sweet and it can keep people warm in the best way.

 kageyama gave you a promise ring in your last year of high school after noticing how your gaze would shift to the jewellery store ever so often. sugawara gave him the idea for the promise ring after hearing his first idea to ‘propose’. clueless as he was, tobio knew what a promise ring was, he just never really thought about it. ballroom dancing has a certain elegance to it, so when he first tried it out with you, he kept stepping on your toes. you always laughed it off with him, giving him a small sense of peace and he always admired you for it. peace… something that he needed and something you always gave to him.

atsumu: sunflowers in the spring, throwing small rocks at your window, oversized t-shirts, matching outfits

 your first date with atsumu just so happened to be in a sunflower field, the bright flowers bringing smiles to your faces. throwing small rocks at your window was what he did when he found out you were having nightmares. he caught you as soon as you climbed down your window and he took you to the nearest convenience store to get ice-cream while you ranted about what happened in your nightmares.

 the oversized t-shirts brought comfort to you whenever atsumu was away for a long training session. he would give you one of his jerseys or shirts, so of course with his six feet form they would all be hanging over you like a dress. however, despite that, atsumu loves it when you wear his clothes because he finds it adorable. that included cute couple outfits he would find on tiktok and pinterest. it gives him the idea that, yes, that’s my girlfriend and i love her.

[abusivelittlebunny]

I‘m rewatching Peaky Blinders and I can‘t take scenes with Tommy and Campbell seriously anymore. The only thing I can think of during their encounters is steamy hate sex lmao, like „Just bend him over already, what are you waiting for, you old pig.“ This is all your fault 💅🏼

Good, that means all is going according to the keiaku, my job here is done hühühühü~

At least you have to actually rewatch and see them on screen to think the nasty about them; I live and breathe it. Campbell x Tommy on my mind 24h nonstop.

I go to bed and think: Campbell must act like he hates it when Tommy waits for him to come to bed because the boy can't go to sleep without cuddling against his body, but truly he absolutely adores the affection and Tommy's clinginess, and looks forward to the skinny limbs to wrapping around his middle and the dark mop of hair to tickle his neck as Tommy rests his head on his chest and falls asleep to the sound of his heartbeat. They're disgustingly cute and try to mask it with petty jabs of "Stop hogging the bloody duvet you nesting pest," and "Shut the fuck up you snoring bleeding old hog," and "Put your cold fucking feet anywhere near me again and I'll break each of your icicle toes off," and "Well, you shouldn't be so warm and pudgy like a hot water bottle then, old fart."

I eat breakfast and think of Campbell cooking breakfast for the first time in a long time by himself without relying on a housekeeper because he wants to impress force-feed Tommy a decent meal and get some meat on his bones and yet his ass is still so full and fantastic; the boy never seems to eat and he looks the part and Campbell considers himself a savior of the streetrats by giving this little Gypsy scum a decent caramelized onion omlette and some bacon and sausages and buttered toast with a side of jam and scones and apple slices and- wait did he really just go this far? A fucking burnt toast should have sufficed, God knows the brat doesn't deserve better even if the marathon sex last night was incredible decent, but it's too late to hide the perfectly made breakfast table now, Tommy has already wandered in with his sleepy hair and cute freshly-woken dazed eyes, only wearing Campbell's shirt as usual (too big on him, sliding down one milky shoulder, and reaching to the middle of his skinny thighs, so adorable) and has seen the tribute laid out before him. Campbell hates how he swallows and his face gets hot as Tommy bites shyly at his lip to smother his erupting smile and blushes as he scoots his plate over from the other end of the table to sit right next to Campbell's seat. Tommy compliments the food in only a few words but Campbell can see how much he appreciates it based on the fact that he actually eats it all, his legs gingerly draped over Campbell's lap and slurping his milky tea while reading the paper after breakfast with Campbell. The old man doesn't dare think about how happy and wholesome the scenario is, just clears his throat and absent-mindedly massages Tommy's feet. Both of them feel overly hot and giddy by it.

I'm in class and I think of a teacher x student au, I'm in a Cafe and I think of complicated customer x bratty barista au, I'm in a restaurant I think food critic x annoyed waiter au, I'm walking down the street I think they'd be fucking in the nearest alley after two minutes of fighting, I struggle with concentrating on work and think of how Tommy loves to distract Campbell from it too, and don't even get me started on the sugarbaby au or a/b/o au or stepdaddy au or arranged marriage au etc... I'm a goner, mate

Interviewer: Major Campbell, what do you plan to do about the criminal gang in Birmingham?

Campbell: well of course, I'll nail down the head of the gang-, not that I'm nailing him uh in such a manner of course, and by head I am not alluding to the excellent head Tommy Shelby gives, not that I would know anything about it, me? As if I would fuck that brat multiple times a day and have him practically move in with me and think about marriage and such pff nonsense-

Interviewer: You have gotten into trouble with the chief of the Birmingham Police Department before, is that correct?

Tommy: Ah, that spanking wasn't that hard, he could have gone much more heavy, believe me, I know what it's like when he loses control and almost rails me through the bloody wall, that insane old man has stamina, I'll tell you that. But if by trouble you mean one of the times we got caught fucking in public, don't worry he loves it, fucks me harder for it to the point that i can't sit for a week-

[simonalkenmayer]

Hello Simon! I didn't know you had a 2nd dog in your care! And a tiny one! Cute!! You said he likes to use sweaters?? I actually wanted to ask about it. Since you have a better understanding with animals and a better judgment about what's actually good for them.

Do they enjoy when we put them silly and adorable clothes? Do they know they look cute? If you put Goody a Flower hat and Bo a Bee hoodie, would they know they would look absolutely adorable together? I never knew if that stuff annoys them or they are having fun too. (Like kids when they dress up with funny costumes and are just playing and having a good time)

I know my other cat feels annoyed when we put him his bear hat (his name is Teddy) because he makes this face >:( and moves his tail like it's a whip

But dogs seem to have less problem with clothes, even silly ones, but maybe I just don't know how to recognize their emotions? How to know if they are having fun too and not just being absolutely patient but internally not having a good time?? I know they kind of ask when they are cold, but never knew how they feel about the costumes that are only for cuteness.

Do you happen to know? Or have some thoughts about it? I know a lot of people are against it because they think it's just torture for them. (It is if they are uncomfortable and can't move of course) but others are really passionate about dressing up their puppies and make sure they can move freely so...

What are your thoughts about it?

I wouldn’t say I have a better grasp of animals. I’d say I have a different grasp.

Animals view their clothes within contexts. The dogs know that their clothes and collars are a mark of their position relative to me, and that they serve a purpose. For example, I only ever put a sweater on Bo when I’m about to take him outside, or if he seems particularly anxious, so for him, he knows that just like I grab my wallet and keys and mask when I leave, he gets his sweater. Goody won’t leave the building without his necklace and his necklace has to have tags. If it doesn’t have tags, he won’t wear it. They also pick which ones they feel like wearing. Yes they display a preference. I hold them out and they choose by bopping with their noses. Now, that said, if I put them in something silly like a costume, they know two things: it’s uncomfortable and people adore it. So they sometimes put up with it just to get all the encouragement and affection they see. It’s not torture to them. They’re much smarter than that. For them it’s one more means of interaction with you, and as long as you respect that the dog may not like it or choose it, they view it as a connection.

Bo has a blanket someone made for him. He likes to sleep in it and if he sees it, gets very happy. Goody has his own bed and he knows that it’s just for him. The toys are accessible to both and they may go get one to sleep with any time. These things are connections to love and protection. I seldom if ever leash my dogs, because I trust them and they listen to me because they know I am looking after them. I speak to them precisely as I do a person. They’re my room mates. Their clothes are there to comfort, soothe, protect, and mark them as dogs who have homes, and they know this

So if your animal seemed to have an affinity for a specific thing and you supply it, like the llama who wants to wear a scarf, well then, you’re a friend. But if they aren’t comfortable and you force them to, then the costume is a mark of subservience and they know it. Context.

Just be kind to your friend.