#context: fucked up my sleep schedule once again

[queenlua]

2022 only has one month left to either kill me or die trying. come at me, bitch. i just sharpened my knife & i'm ready to take you on

#context: fucked up my sleep schedule once again #so everyone gets deranged shitposts while i'm being a huge baby about it #(holidays were good but also this is the strangest i've felt mentally/physically in ages. air travel jfc)

[wannaeatramyeon]

I know you’re already super busy and booked but if you can, Munseong Kim/Ji Yeonwoo fluff and headcanons would be cool. There is little to none on them, please pace yourself I don’t want you to feel overwhelmed.

Hmmm. Let's do... texting habits (ish). And sorry I included my cuties Wangguk and Taehoon too 😊

HTF texting habits hc: Munseong, Yeonwoo, Wangguk, Taehoon

Munseong is a pretty cool and reserved guy, and that shows with his texting habits

He keeps it short and to the point, not a lot of emojis and everything comes across a little deadpan with his replies.

However, he is extremely fast respond back to you and usually within the minute... even if it doesn't warrant a response he'll at least send back a 😄 Sweet boy doesn't want to leave you hanging!

And if he's late to text back (by his standards), he'll always apologise even though you've explained a million times it's fine and you know he's doing his own thing.

Don't expect any memes, or him to react with anything apart from confusion. But you can always expect a good morning or good night.

Whenever he's feeling a bit down, he will read over your old messages and imagine your smile and your face lighting up on the other side.

...Or just call you to hear your voice.

Yeonwoo always makes time for texting you even with his hectic study schedule.

Thinks of it as a little treat, something to look forward to after frying his brain for the last couple hours.

He's always a bit contrite for his late replies too but it doesn't deter you with your double, triple, quadruple+ texting. It brightens his day seeing your name pop up on his phone, even if there are 10+ messages waiting.

Once his study schedule chills out and he makes more time for Kyokushin, he also makes more time for you!

Anything that pops into his head that he thinks you'll like, or that he thinks of saying, he'll just come right out with it.

More often than not it's a cute cat/dog meme or silly fluffy pics.

Occasionally it'll be blurred selfies of him during training. Just a lil hi and a way to say he's thinking of you.

Ah, another pretty reserved one.

Wangguk uses emojis more than you would expect, and is pretty cute with them to be honest. Adds them to provide a bit more context and depth with his responses because he knows how dry he can sound 🥺

Keeps his messages pretty short unless there's something that he is passionate about then he'll just ramble and send a full on essay. Punctuated with another follow up message to say sorry. It's pretty goddamn cute tbh.

Sends you a LOT of pictures. Innocent ones that is. Pictures tell a thousand words and he loves his photography.

Pics to say good morning, good night, thinking of you, thought you would like this. Usually Wangguk isn't in them, which makes any selfies even more special.

Also loves when you respond back in kind, sending him snaps of your day and just you.

Surprisingly, or perhaps not, is extremely clued up with memes or anything slightly unhinged thanks to Gyeoul and her sense of humour. Will send on any to you that makes him chuckle.

Listen if Taehoon wants your attention, he'll let you know. That includes messages and calls at 4am just to fuck with you. Especially when he hears your exasperated sigh and groggy voice. Or even an angry reply to "GO TF TO SLEEP!!" It will never not be funny to him. Maybe that's on you for continuing to respond and pick up all the time.

Cute good morning, good night texts? No chance.

Although he is very good at letting you know where he is, what he's up to. And expects similar from you. It's not that he doesn't trust you, he just wants to know you're safe. A hangover from Dowoon.

And this bastard is also pretty leisurely with his responses. You can be having a full on conversation, responses back within the minute then he leaves you on read for hours.

However, if you do the same then expect a call "why the fuck aren't you answering me." If you miss that, then expect an annoyed Taehoon on your doorstep.

Again, another hangover from Dowoon. His mind just goes to the worst case scenarios.

#viral hit manhwa #viral hit x reader #viral hit webtoon #viral hit headcanons #how to fight manhwa #how to fight webtoon #how to fight headcanons #seong taehoon x reader #seong taehoon #seong taehun #taehoon x reader #seong taehun x reader #ji yeonwoo x reader #ji yeonwoo #kim munseong x reader #kim munseong #han wangguk #han wangguk x reader #wannaeatramyeon #how to fight #viral hit

[cringefaildiaz]

alright casual 911 viewer roomie was traveling this week so we had to rewatch 6x11 last night, her thoughts below:

"This child (Jee)'s sleep schedule is a plot device"

when Buck get's rolled into the hospital "too many sad dads. and one very sad husband"

"HIS KIDS????????" shouted so loudly and for so long that she missed the teacher reveal and we had to rewind

Thunder by Imagine Dragons playing when coma!Buck shows up at Chimney's apartment had us both dying laughing

"No one's tchotchkes are safe" about the train in Chimney's apartment

"I hope the sister and the guy (Madney) get married at the firehouse and then gay dads (Buddie) decide to get married too in a Mamma Mia-esque 'everyone lives happily ever after' way"

Athena saying "Buck is going to be fine. He has to be" roomie responded "because this is a TV show. And he's hot. And he's one of the only single characters left"

"Awwww dream Chimney called him Buck"

"Which one is that one. They all look so similar" this is baffling to me. She got Buck, Eddie, and Doug confused all episode.

Hen saying "you'd be angry too if you lost your kid" roomie goes "THEY KILLED THE KID?????????" once again so loudly that she missed the context of how Eddie lost Christopher

"How are they not making a consistently bigger deal out of them co-raising this child. I mean I guess it's not that weird. We might have a kid together" apparently we might have a kid together, this was news to me

When Chris tells Buck he has to "come back" and coma!Buck echoes it with "I think maybe I'm supposed to come back to where it all started" she fully started sobbing. She had never seen Chris before watching this episode

"I thought she was handing him a head of cauliflower" when May is forcing a sandwich on Bobby outside the hospital. "Don't tell the people on the internet I said that!!!!" I am telling them

Had to pause for a good 15 minutes to explain the 118 extended family tree. She did not get it. To be fair the Buckley and Han parents being around does make it REALLY confusing

"ANOTHER OMINOUS TCHOTCHKE!!!!" She loved the trauma tchotchkes

"Love snarky dead drug addict dad. Wish he could stick around"

"Love how this guy floated no other alternatives beyond being in a coma dream. Like it couldn't just be a regular dream. He hasn't entertained the option that he like accidentally took a hallucinogenic drug or something" I informed her he has in fact been accidentally drugged before "Okay so I'm hearing that there were multiple other conclusions he could've come to. But he just knew it was a coma dream. okay."

"oh he knew he was in a coma dream but he was SHOCKED to see his body in a coma"

"This show is so corny"

Buck telling his parents "I know you did the best you could" roomie says "NO THEY DID NOT. They My Sister's Keeper'd you dude"

"Oop...okay. I guess" at evil!Buck

"Okay now hurry up and fix your self esteem so you can take a breath"

"through the power of self love he has summoned a magical dream ax"

Bobby asking what he was like in the dream she goes "you were like a.....spooky jokester"

"What the fuck is up with the couch metaphor"

#kind of huge that she rewatched the ep with me cuz during 6a she was just like 'fill me in on what i missed' #even after i told her there was no homoeroticism in 6x11 she wanted to watch it!!!! and make fun of it <3 #roomie watches 911 #911 6x11 #911 spoilers #911 spec

[ohbutwheresyourheart]

next up on fragments from the google docs: my damas and jak mom backstory, featuring: policial machinations, damas's father being a bastard with style, complex damas backstory, enemies to (eventual, not currently pictured) lovers, the tiniest implication of samos hagai being a decent person if you squint

The guttering squeaks in protest as Sia inches along it. The window, however, opens with no more sound than the practised fall of her feet onto the carpet. Thank you once again, Karl’s Auto Oil; good for more than just cars.

Haven is never quite pitch black. Even in the dead zone between ‘far too late’ and ‘far too early’, there is a buzz and glow of neon on the streets below. Closer to home, the palace itself is alight; hard to see an intruder in the dark, after all, and the palace guard are nothing if not conscientious. Sia would take it out of their hides if they weren’t.

Real wisdom, however, is leaving herself a path between the lights for these late night trips that nobody else needs to know about. For that reason, no light shines directly into Sia’s room in the barracks… but the general glow is enough to see by, and she knows the room by touch anyway.

Boots off and jacket over the back of a chair, but that’s all she manages. The blinking lights on her alarm clock say it’s already two; she’ll get maybe four hours sleep if she’s lucky. Sia crawls into bed with a groan, half-asleep before her head hits the pillow. Four hours. She’s had worse nights.

----

As usual, it’s an early start. Emeris is a habitual early riser and likes to slot in a briefing before breakfast is served. For a time (before her time), Sia hears it was during breakfast, until the queen put her foot down and insisted on her husband being mentally as well as physically present for family meals.

True to form, Emeris is already entrenched at his desk when Sia walks in; he glances up and catches her eye with a slight smile before returning his attention to Clement’s run-through of the day’s schedule. Sia takes her place at the back of the study, ears pricked for any mention of new or rescheduled public appearances that will require input from the royal guard on security, but otherwise her energy is going towards looking more awake than she feels. Still, her job description is to stand guard over the royal family regardless of how much or how little sleep she’s had, so she stands to attention and flicks her eyes over the gathering in the room.

Clement, the king’s secretary, is as much a part of the palace as the walls themselves. His age is almost impossible to determine; he doesn’t look any different now than the first time Sia laid eyes on him. Pale blonde hair thinning but not yet balding; crow’s feet and frown lines but no deep wrinkles; pince-nez in place and tasteful clothing pressed to within an inch of its life. He drones through the day’s agenda without ever apparently pausing for breath, and Sia finds her eyelids drooping just listening to him.

Baron Praxis, by contrast, makes for a much more vigorous presence. The young baron (in the context of a broadly middle-aged aristocracy), he has been chafing at the bit to make his mark on Haven ever since his father’s death two years ago, leaving Praxis to inherit both the barony and command of the Krimzon Guard. Even when ostensibly at rest, he exudes an aura of impatience; fingers tapping on his crossed arms and beady eyes moving constantly around the room. Their eyes meet for a moment; Praxis clicks his tongue dismissively and looks away.

Well, fuck him too. He’ll likely have another disappointing day; his manifesto for the past month has been to convince Emeris to authorise a raid of a suspected metal head nest. Which would make sense, except that this supposed nest is still not confirmed to even exist and, even if it does, is miles away from the city; a thing to be wary of, for sure, but nothing to waste good lives on just because some young idiot wants to earn his stripes in a blaze of glory.

The final person in the room is the king’s younger -- only -- son, Prince Damas. A recent addition to the morning briefings, as Emeris has begun grooming him in earnest to inherit. Sia is still uncomfortable seeing him there, standing behind his father’s chair and leaning in periodically to ask a question or offer a comment. Not because Damas himself is so very objectionable (although he’s not entirely unobjectionable, either), but because Sia is increasingly worried about what this means for Emeris. The king seems as healthy as ever…

Still, Sia supposes he’s not getting any younger. While Emeris is still vigorous enough - these pre-dawn meetings are proof enough of that - there’s more grey than black in his hair and beard these days, and the wrinkles are settling deeper into his face. Even if he’s not ill, nobody lives forever (and don't they all know that all too fucking well nowadays)… but for now that’s an aspect of the future Sia would rather not focus on.

Count Veger is notable by his absence. His son is not yet ready to fill the space. Pity for him: there’s another one in the good baron’s mold; a man ready for his father to shake off the mortal coil and start making his own mark, but then even the neatest suicides leave at least a little mess behind. Still, the family’s close ties to the religious institutes in Haven should ensure the stubborn old goat’s spiritual affairs are tidy, even if the earthly ones require more attention.

And how does Sia herself stack up against this masculine hoard?

Young, that’s generally the first thing people notice about her; there’s a steeliness in her blue eyes that challenges anyone to put a definite number to her age, but it’s safe to say she’s past twenty and a ways off forty. Neat and presentable without being vain: green-blonde hair cropped boyishly short to her face (harder to grab in a fight that way), uniform pressed, boots shined. Average height, athletic build, more muscular than most women who aren’t in the military.

More often serious than smiling and more often quiet than outspoken, though most people who work with her for any length of time will say that she is conscientious, fair, and prepared for almost anything. She inspires respect in her subordinates and trust in her betters.

In short, Genessia Sartok is a near perfect example of a royal bodyguard, to the point where some (most notably the new Baron Praxis) have taken to referring to her, in often insufficiently hushed tones, as the king’s prize bitch. If Emeris hears this insult, he gives no indication of it, and so Sia follows his example despite how badly her fists itch to dole out a few sharp blows.

“...and finally, sir, dinner will be served at nine o’clock,” Clement finishes, drawing Sia back to the moment.

“So early?” Emeris quips. “Ah, you keep me working hard, Clement.”

The king stretches, muscles straining under the silk shirt and tailored jacket. Sia hears something in his neck pop from across the room. He sighs, shifts in his seat; his head rests against the back of his chair and his eyes flicked closed. It suddenly occurs to Sia that he does look older lately, in a way that has more to do with a heaviness of his gaze and a palpable weight on his shoulders than lines and grey hairs.

Clement seems to be thinking the same thing. With a slight frown, he flicks through the schedule, humming to himself.

“We could trim down this evening’s reception at the Eco Society?” he offers uncertainly. “It would net us perhaps half an hour back.”

“Half an hour,” Emeris mutters. He opens his eyes again, although the action seems to cost him some effort. “Well, we take what we can get, do we not? Genessia, do you suppose half an hour will sufficiently make or break the plans of any assassins lurking outside the Eco Society?”

It’s a joke, but Sia isn’t offended. She can be aware of how tiring Emeris finds the constant security while also knowing it’s her one goal to keep him alive.

“I don’t foresee a problem.” Sia nods to Clement and he begins annotating the schedule. Even if there were any problems, she’d surmount them to give Emeris the break he clearly needs and would never ask for.

Indeed, true to form, Emeris is already shaking off his momentary - well, Sia isn’t sure what to call it, after finding herself vehemently opposed to the word weakness - and his well-worn, slightly sardonic smile is back in place.

“If your foresight changes before this afternoon rolls around, we’ll proceed as scheduled. Jauniz will only complain that we’re upsetting the kitchen by ordering dinner early anyway.”

“It won’t kill you to take a break now and then, Father,” Damas interjects. “Even if it’s only half an hour.”

“Oh, no, no, don’t start treating me like an old man,” Emeris complains. “Not while I’ve still got some colour in my hair. Poor Clement and I are already becoming outnumbered by you young whippersnappers.”

Damas rolls his eyes, his expression a picture worth a thousand words. He catches Sia looking at him and winks at her. It is a wink that has reduced more than a few individuals at court to weakened knees. Sia makes damn sure she isn’t one of them.

The stately grandfather clock next to Sia chimes seven and Emeris holds his hands up in mock distress.

“And now look at the time! We’re late for breakfast. Your mother will be furious. The entire day is ruined.”

Sia lets out the obligatory hum of laughter at the king’s joke, echoed by Damas. Clement makes a noise that could be a polite chortle or just clearing his throat. Only Baron Praxis is decidedly unamused. As Emeris gets to his feet, clapping Damas on the shoulder and heading out of the study, the baron clears his throat pointedly.

“A word, if you don’t mind, sir.”

Emeris is far too in control of himself to do anything as obvious as sigh, but Sia detects the minute tightening in his posture as he turns to face Praxis.

“I’m sure it can wait until after breakfast.” Emeris’s tone is pleasant as he clasps the recalcitrant Baron on the shoulder in much the same fatherly gesture he’s just given to his son. “Speaking of which, have you eaten yet? No, of course not; join us, please. You can tell me about how your daughter is getting on. Ashelin must be getting ready for the schoolroom by now, eh? They grow up so quickly, you’ll blink once and she’ll be a teenager...”

Praxis is carried along on a wave of smalltalk and, from the look on his face, he is perfectly aware that this is only a distraction from a conversation Emeris does not want to have.

Still, Sia thinks as she watches their retreating backs, you have to give Emeris credit for sheer charisma.

----

While there is a guard presence even at breakfast, Sia delegates that task for today and retreats to her office with a pot of coffee.

For once, she doesn’t have much in the way of paperwork; the rotas for the next fortnight are drawn up, including the delegation for the appointment at the Eco Society that evening. Speaking of which: the file she requested on the star of the show has arrived on her desk. Now here is a decent read over her morning coffee.

The Eco Society was once a cornerstone of Haven’s governance; half-academy, half-barracks for citizens who showed a proficiency for channelling. They were taught how to use their powers and, in return for a roof over their heads and material comforts, were expected to put those skills to use in aid of the city. It was the early scions of the Eco Society, alongside Mar himself, who installed the eco grid that powers the city to this day.

As time went by, however, channellers became rarer and technological advancements rendered many of their contributions moot. Nowadays, the Eco Society boasts few members who can be considered channellers of any notable ability, and has stagnated into something more closely resembling a member’s club. Most of the aristocratic families can trace a lineage to the old eco-rich bloodlines and like to make sure everyone remembers it, but they usually accomplish that by just throwing a dinner every now and then.

Until now: now, it seems, they finally have a genuine candidate for a Sage again.

Samos Hagai. Sia can’t help but smile as she reads through the file. The man sounds like a hippie, which she can only imagine is going down splendidly with the old guard. Spends more time in the forests outside the city than in the Society’s hallowed halls, communes with rocks and trees more easily than people… and a fantastically powerful channeler of green eco.

Gods, the things that could do for the city. For the farms that were currently pumped full of pesticides and still straining to generate a sufficient crop for the city; for the hospitals full of doctors who nevertheless got patients they could not treat. If Samos could just find an untapped well of green eco, it would be an enormous boon, even if he never lifted a finger again for the rest of his life.

Sia is not a sentimental woman, but (blame it on lack of sleep) for a moment she lets herself hope - truly, fervently hope - that Samos Hagai is as much of a blessing as he seems.

----

Five o’clock comes around too quickly and Sia makes sure she is at Emeris’s side as the news of Count Veger’s death officially breaks. The city’s journalists are no more known for their sentimentality than Sia herself is, but there is an unspoken agreement on such matters; some consideration is granted for a prominent family to control the narrative.

A sudden illness. Details unspecified, but the late Count was not a young man; unless some particularly intrepid journalist takes it into their head to steal post-mortem reports, there will probably be an assumption of a stroke or heart attack. Too bad, so sad, but life moves on.

Veger’s widow is closeted at home, but the son is here to release a brief statement. The old count was a man built like a brick shithouse; the son must have inherited his knobbly knees and skinny wrists from his mother’s side of the family. According to Sia’s reports, he also inherited his maternal family’s unfashionably robust piety, which should make him a counterbalance to Praxis’s steamrolling towards modernity. No blind fervour evident here and now, though. Despite all the right words about a peaceful passing coming out of his mouth, Sia spies a definite shrewdness in the new Veger’s eyes. Yes, almost certainly a man who will have some fellow-feeling with Praxis, though he is the stiletto knife to the baron’s sledgehammer.

Apropos of nothing, despite the clement spring day, Sia feels a chill.

They have about ten minutes between the press announcement and leaving for the Eco Society. Sia uses five of them tracking down and collaring one of the agents Emeris has given her charge of.

“Count Veger. The new one. I need everything you can get.”

The man raises his eyebrows. “I thought we already did a file on him.”

“Did I stutter?” Sia snaps, which is unlike her. She sighs, counts to three, shakes her head. “Sorry. Long night. But yes. Everything. Any holes, fill them. Any questions, answer them. Associations. Vices. If he kicked a cat when he was eight, I want to know about it.”

The agent shrugs in acquiescence. “Your wish is our command and all of that. I can tell you one thing right away -- the man’s a few monks short of a choir.”

Sia snorts because isn’t everyone in this fucking city? “I’ll bear it in mind. Full docket. As soon as you can.”

----

The joy of having the palace as the central structure of Haven City is that nothing is ever too far of a journey. Nevertheless, the royal family seldom wander around on foot, especially when on official business. The palace garages host a small fleet of hovercrafts of various levels of grandeur, manoeuvrability, and firepower.

Today they’re going low on the firepower, high on the grandeur: Emeris has strong opinions about being as visible to the public as is safe, and Sia can’t really fault his politics even when she wishes he was more inclined to self-preservation.

She also can’t fault him for taking his son and heir with him on official business, but that doesn’t stop her mood immediately souring when she sees Damas tagging along at Emeris’s heels. As commander of the royal guard, Sia is usually the one closest to the king and she takes a particular pleasure in the privilege of being able to talk freely with Emeris during these hovercraft rides.

With Damas in the picture, however, she resolves to keep her eyes forward and her mouth shut.

He’s just so… annoying. Frivolous. Never taking anything too seriously, and always with that hint of a sardonic smirk on his face. Granted, Emeris goes heavy on the sarcastic facial expressions too but that’s different. Emeris is older, more experienced - he’s world-weary enough to have earned that outlook.

What has Damas ever had to deal with? A hangnail? One of his seemingly dozens of crocadogs pissing in his handmade shoes? The man (he’s past thirty now, he’s left boy in the dust and even young man is becoming less applicable) has never even served time in the army! Say what you will about Praxis - and oh, what Sia could say about Praxis - at least the good Baron knows how to hold a fucking gun.

Damas is also a dire politician with a severely lacking ability to cover his feelings, as evidenced by the fact he looks as pleased to see Sia as Sia is to see him - the key difference being that Damas wears his heart on his sleeve and Sia keeps hers under lock and key.

----

“I’m so pleased,” Emeris remarks lightly (and even Sia, who knows him so well, almost misses the sarcasm behind his genial tone), “To see you young people getting along so well.”

Sia glares at Damas. Damas glares at Sia. The king’s crooked smile deepens.

----

“In future, Damas, can you please refrain from making enemies of the security staff?”

The comment is tossed out deceptively casually, in true Emeris style. Damas fights to keep his face clear, knowing that allowing the glare he wants to shoot at his father’s back free rein will only prove his point.

“I don’t trust Sartok,” he replies - quietly, for he has at least that much sense, regardless of what Emeris thinks. “Father, truly, the rumours about her--”

“Genessia,” Emeris interrupts him, ”Is the single most trustworthy person you will ever meet, if you can bring yourself to treat her with respect.”

Damas snorts. “Try telling her the same thing. The woman looks at me like I’m dirt on her boots.”

“No, she doesn’t, she has far too much self-control to let you see that even if she thought it.”

“I see it,” Damas insists, because he does. Oh, Sartok keeps a straight face around him, but that in itself is a giveaway when he sees her so open and engaged with his father only to shut down as soon as she sees Damas.

Emeris sighs. It is a long-suffering sound. Damas wonders which of them suffers longer and harder for this mutually unsatisfactory familial tie.

“Then give her a reason to respect you.”

“That isn’t enough?” Damas asks, gesturing to the crown on his father’s head. He’s being more sarcastic than serious -- Damas himself doesn’t like to rely on his royal blood to get what he wants -- but he’s unprepared for the flash of true fury in his father’s eyes.

“For one thing, Damas, the crown is not yet yours,” Emeris hisses. “For another, unless you learn, and learn quickly, then you may not have long to enjoy it.”

Before Damas can think of a response, Emeris -- quicksilver incarnate -- locks away his anger and smooths his expression back to amiability. Even his tone is smooth as a bolt of silk.

“Take it as a challenge, eh? Your first serious political manoeuvring. Secure Genessia as an ally in your own right, not just as the heir to the throne. Perhaps then,” Emeris adds, “I can trust you with something else.”

Always the woodbee sting following the honey, Damas reflects grimly as he drains his champagne.

“Fine. By the end of the night?”

“Ah, Haven wasn’t built in a day…. But I’d like to see progress by the time this party finishes, if you can manage it.”

----

The prince surveys her more seriously, his head slightly tilted to one side. At this angle, the jewels in his crown catch the light; Genessia is struck by the thought that they don’t look any more impressive than the glass in his hand.

“You don’t respect me at all, do you?”

Genessia stiffens, trying not to show that the bottom has dropped out of her stomach. She’d thought she was keeping within the acceptable boundaries with their banter.

“Of course I respect you, Your Highness.”

Damas rolls his eyes. “Yes, yes, you respect the prince, you respect the crown, and gods know you’re as loyal as a dog to my father--” Genessia narrows her eyes and Damas smirks as if she’s proving his point. “--but for myself, if I was just a stranger on the street? Admit it, you wouldn’t respect me at all.”

Doesn’t it make you wonder why? Genessia can’t help but think, though she does her best to shove the sentiment away before it shows on her face. She’s already in a big enough mess without digging her grave any deeper.

Damas sighs, the blatant antagonism easing out of him, replaced by - what? Sia can’t quite tell.

“I suppose what I’m trying to ask is - why do you respect my father and not me? Is it simply because he is the king and I am not?”

Can that possibly be a question he expects her to answer honestly? Sia eyes the prince warily. She thinks she can place the emotion on his face now; exhaustion, bafflement, and something - unexpectedly - very earnest.

Sia isn’t even sure how to answer. It’s difficult to put into words, even in her own thoughts, just why Emeris has her respect and Damas doesn’t.

“If it helps,” he adds, “I… apologise for my earlier behaviour.”

“If it helps?” Sia echoes. “Well, are you sorry or not?”

Damas groans; holds up a hand. “I am sorry! I just meant -- I wasn’t sure if the apology was welcome… Gods be good, Genessia, you have to admit you’re rather prickly.” He grimaces. “Case in point.”

“I’m overcome by your flattery and charisma.”

“Thanks.” Damas lets out a sound that might be a laugh or just another groan. “Precursors. I wish Jakon were here--”

The words drop like a bomb between them, destroying the conversation. It takes Damas a moment to realise what he’s said; when he does, his eyes widen and his lips part, as if he might take it back -- but he doesn’t. He ducks his head, and laughs, very softly.

“I do,” he murmurs. “I do wish he was here. I… was never meant for this, and I fear it shows.”

“I’m sorry.” The words are trite, but Genessia offers them with genuine feeling. “We all miss him. Very much.”

“Did you get along better with him?”

“...Yes. I suppose. We had -- common ground.”

Damas raises his eyebrows. “Oh?”

“I had a younger brother too. Have,” Sia corrects herself when she sees the blossoming look of shock and sympathy on Damas’s face. She hesitates before plunging onwards. “We’re -- estranged. Still. I knew something of what it’s like. The responsibility, and--”

“And?”

Sia glances away. Says, quietly: “And the love.”

#fragments from the google docs #jak and daxter #damas #jak mom #samos hagai #yes samos did name baby jak after damas's dead older brother #i have so many goddamn half-written bits and pieces for these two #sia is one of those ocs i never talk about but she is dear to my heart and i love her to death #my beautiful daughter with a disorder (or ten) #genessia sartok

[lgbtqforeverything]

Hournite Strawberry Wedding AU Bullet Fic

alright i’m bullet fic-ing this so y’all understand the context for all the shit i’ve created over the last 48 hours 

rick proposes for the first time drunk at beth’s 21 birthday and she tell him to ask her in two years

he does. she says to ask again in two more years

rick proposes to beth one final time at 3am in their kitchen on a tuesday while they’re both sleep deprived out of their minds. she says ask me in the morning

he does. she says yes 

he gives her a ring he’s had since the day after that party it’s very cute and sweet blah blah blah 

bridget and james find out that weekend at brunch but nobody else does for like a week and a half

No bridesmaids/groomsmen. My reasoning for this one is purely just vibes.

Bridget and James ‘give’ Beth away and Pat and Barbara do the same for rick

I dont give a fuck about canon this is my au and i can say that pat and Barbara emotionally adopted rick and he lived with them for the rest of high school if i damn please. And i do.

When Beth started wedding planning she noticed that rick kept picking the things reminiscent of strawberries and just decided to go full in on a strawberry theme 

Colors are green, gold, and red.

Reception Schedule: first dance, parent dances, second dance, speeches, food & dancing, and closing song

First Dance: once upon a time by Lana Del Ray

Father-Daughter Dance (Beth and James): more i cannot wish you by Victor Garber, Jesse Martin, and John Barrowman

Mother-Son Dance (Rick and Barbara): slipping through my fingers by ABBA

Second Dance: forever after all by Luke Combs

Last Dance of the Night: goodnight my someone by Barbara Cook

Speeches: Pat & Barbara, Bridget & James, Courtney, and finally Yolanda. Also Zeek somehow gets the mic and gives a speech that makes everyone either tear up or become confused 

Mike is their photographer because i think he would accidentally sign up for a class and then discover a passion for it

Their dj is Jakeem because of course he is 

The shade and dr. McNider joint officiate the wedding 

#Here we go y’all #I have like 3 posts for this au ready to go #hournite strawberry wedding au #stargirl #a.j. posts #rick tyler #beth chapel #hourman #dr midnite #stargirl spoilers

[dzpenumbra]

8/28/22

I'm in a bad place. I woke up after 4 hours of sleep. My cat was trying to comfort me. My heart was pounding, my mind was racing. My optimism, my hope, my will was crumbling. I was frantic and scared and crying.

The leaves are already falling and I don't have a place lined up to move to. My roof is literally collapsing, it's irreparable and I've been living with it for over 2 years, I can't do another winter freaking out about my roof collapsing again. I don't even know the area I'm going to move to. And there are really no rentals available anyway. I look at the work that I make, that I committed myself fully to doing this summer. I see things that no one wants. That my closest supporters look at and say "oh cool" in passing, then pick up their phone and look at what they really want to see, made by someone else. I've been steadily losing confidence in my ability to make this art/music/poetry/streaming hybrid career ever turn into anything. I defend it a lot in my journals here, but I'm really starting to realize that I'm the only one defending it. All of those in supporting roles have encouraged me to do something else.

I'm at the stage again where I'm pretty much ready to give up. I tried. I feel like I could give it years more, but the price I've been paying to do so is just... unimaginable. A 9 and a half hour conflict today, entirely focused on how fucked up my life is. To put that in context, that's almost an entire iPhone battery charge worth of phone call. With my Mom of course, who lives 5 minutes away.

I'm just starting to look around and see that I don't really have anything left. I have possessions that I don't really use, maybe I can sell those to make the move easier, god knows I'll be doing it alone. I have my cat, I love her with all my heart, even if she bites me because we don't play enough. I have my will to persevere, which unfortunately has been crumbling, but it's still there somehow. That's about it, honestly.

My stupid medical shit, failed "live-in" (aka one-foot-out-the-door renting an apartment while living with me and running off to it every week) relationship, and being reassured that I will be supported in pursuing my creative career has left my resume entirely empty for many years. I'm deeply afraid that once I finally give up, I won't be able to get a "real job". I'm not even sure if I'll be able to rent an apartment, I don't have proof of income. I really hope so.

I have been in similar situations back in college, like waaaaaay back. It was so much easier to take gigantic swan-dives into new life situations when I hadn't adapted to certain ways of living, and when the darkness of the world was much more... cartoonish and less real. I'm very afraid. I'm afraid of being alone in a city. I'm afraid of ending up in a shitty living situation and having no plan B. But that's my situation. That's just what it is. And me sitting here and trembling like a leaf isn't going to change it.

This sucks. Like... it's just bleak. I haven't felt this hopeless in a very long time. I feel like the best I can hope for is getting some job at like a gaming shop or a skate shop or something and just try to keep a roof over my head. And I guess that isn't the end of the world. The vision that I had just a few weeks ago, that mental picture of me making art on commission, streaming, writing, playing gigs, all that. It feels like a joke. It's something I might do for a few hours on the weekend, maybe. The dream is dying. Again.

I hope this is just a phase, or a response to being treated really poorly at a time of extreme vulnerability. I really hope the dream isn't actually dead and I'm just expressing my pain this way. It's really hard to tell.

We'll see what tomorrow brings. Here's hoping I can fix up my sleep schedule a bit.

#diary #journal #spilled thoughts

[burning-basilisk]

Today marks a full year since I said the words to her: "I want a divorce."

I've told the story multiple times. It gets a little easier to tell, every time.

Our marriage was basically sexless. She still showered me with affection, most of the time, and I did everything I could for her, with the context that I was absolutely useless, as a husband. I accepted it. I was not fulfilling her, especially physically. I had absolutely no reason to believe that anything I did was or could be right or enough.

The morning of January 21st was the last time we shared a bed together.

We were at her parents' place, where she quarantined right before New Year's due to a COVID exposure.

That night, 1/21/2022, I went back down to San Diego, she asked me if it would be okay to consider opening up our marriage, because she simply isn't getting what she needs from me.

I told her that it was worth exploring. I told her that she could sext some of the people she met on her smartphone game, and if things escalated, we could talk about it and see how it goes.

The next three days, I had basically no contact from her. All I got was a short phone call around midnight. I just wanted to hear her voice once before I slept.

On January 26th, at around 1:30 AM, she calls me to offer me an ultimatum.

Either we go 100% open marriage immediately, wherein I am allowed to pick up a girl from a bar and fuck her immediately without any obligation to tell Ruchi anything, and she gets the same freedom, or we "take a break".

Neither of these options were acceptable to me. I hated both of them and had a very bad emotional outburst. Defaulted to the second option, I guess, because I heard her say the words "I am leaving you." Still hoping my auditory memory of that fades eventually.

Friday the 28th was our final couple's therapy session. When I offered to schedule another, or find a new couple's therapist, she declined.

She told me she didn't want me to touch her anymore.

I asked if we could meet in person. On February 12th, we agreed to meet at a coffee shop in Downton San Diego. We talked, and it was mostly pleasant. Before we parted ways, she sat me down in her car and told me about some more of the friends that she had met through her app game. One of them was a guy she had been sexting. She gave me multiple aliases, but nothing I could actually use to identify him. I'm actually grateful for that, in retrospect.

She also asked me if I could spend a few weeks with my parents next month (March), since I have had the apartment to myself for months and she would also like to have that. I never, ever wanted her absence, but nevertheless I acquiesced. I made plans for an extended stay with my parents in March.

Two weeks later, February 26th, we meet again. This time, at the Starbucks were we would meet during lunch breaks while I was at my first ever programming job.

The conversation was shakier, this time. I was trying to get her to understand what I was going through, because I was experiencing an emotional storm unlike any other. She was receptive to none of it, and honestly seemed rather frustrated that I was making the interaction so unpleasant.

As we were leaving, we stood next to her car and she told me that the aforementioned guy she was sexting had expressed an intention to visit "next month" (again, March). I looked her in the eye and asked her if she would be willing to have sex with him. She said yes.

I didn't sleep that night. I couldn't tell heads from tails. At around noon the next day, I called her, and said, near if not actual verbatim "My insecurities are screaming at me... I have to know. When did he tell you that he wanted to visit?"

Her response was "I don't know. A couple of days ago? A week ago? Two weeks ago? What does it matter" and proceeded to tell me that I was accusing her of cheating. After all, he didn't even set a date to visit yet, so why was I so upset?

The vast majority of my brainpower was devoted exclusively to trying to fix this absolute trainwreck of a marriage, because everything was 100% exclusively my fault. I accepted that. I had to. Because no alternative was acceptable.

My imagination met its limit. She didn't want me to touch her. She didn't want to see another couple's therapist. My only option was to pray for more chances to meet with her, and wait to find out if she was actually going to invite a stranger from the internet across the country and into bed with her.

That night, I cried louder than I ever have in my entire adult life. I fucking wailed.

When I woke up the following day, February 28th, I tried to think of what else I could do. How could I appease her? How can I fix this? But all I saw, in my mind, were rehearsals of me saying the words "I want a divorce" while looking her in the eyes.

I thought, surely, this will pass. I'm not some defeatist. I don't give up, even when I probably should.

The week passes, but rehearsing those words is all my brain returns to me whenever I wonder about Ruchi, which is basically always. I pack up my things for the extended stay at my parents' place.

I am alone in the house, dogsitting, while my parents and sister are at a veterinary conference.

I resolve that, maybe there is still some hypothetical hope left. Maybe I'll find it the next time I meet with her. But maybe not. Regardless, it was very important for me to look her in the eye when I told her. There is no form of communication that is more direct and sincere.

That Saturday, on March 5th, 2022, at 7:05 PM, she calls me to tell me that she doesn't want to have unpleasant, difficult conversations about our marriage, when we meet in person. She would rather focus on having a pleasant time together, and reserve all of those tough conversations for phone calls.

I said "Okay. Everything between you and [him] is absolutely obliterating me."

I don't remember exactly what her response was, but it was long. She talked for several minutes, used phrases like "golden cage". What I remember is that it was further justification for her actions, and explaining to me that it was all necessary.

Not a single shred of remorse. Not even the subtlest hint of acknowledgement of my pain. I guess I didn't deserve it.

After she finished talking, I took a deep breath, and said the words.

"I want a divorce."

Unlike my reaction to the words "I am leaving you", she didn't push back. In the year since, she has not even once expressed that she did not want a divorce. I suppose I should be thankful for the closure.

But also, not once have I felt regret for my decision. I expected to. I even expected the return of suicidal ideation from my college years, but that never returned. I did fall into some bad patterns of substance abuse and depression, but have come out of it.

And now, a year later... while I am unemployed and financially crippled (in large part because of a financial debt that to her that is far larger than I think is fair, but hey I agreed to it. Integrity is a bitch to maintain), I still feel more emotionally sound and confident (career status notwithstanding) than ever before.

In the apocalyptic emotional storm, I found an anchor of self-worth that I am slowly building into a solid foundation of character, truly rooted in my own values, instead of copied and grafted from others. I am more okay with asserting myself, even if it runs the risk of being off-putting.

But I absolutely could not have done it without my family and friends.

I honestly didn't feel like anyone actually liked me, ever. I thought that she brought out the best in me, and without her, who would tolerate me?

I still can't describe WHY anyone might like me, but the real miracle is that I don't feel like I need to, anymore. I can actually just... accept affection, now, especially from those closest to me. I can accept that people love me without needing to justify it or caveat it to validate the absence of my self-worth. Because that is no longer absent.

...

If you have made it this far, thank you for reading this. Some of you have seriously helped me through one of the darkest times in my life. Whether it was genuine feedback and emotional support, or just willingness to listen and be there... or maybe just a "like" on one of my long emotional tirades... I am deeply grateful. Even if your presence on Tumblr is just wallpaper around the internet void that I am screaming into... I am still grateful.

Even if our connections fade apart over time, thank you for helping preserve the embers of my inner fire.

#personal #divorce

[usedtohaveascenewithhim]

my life right now

this is my life right now. i truly think i'm either going to get better before my psych appt through sheer willpower (scheduled for a month from now, which is too far out but it was the earliest i could get) or i'm going to die trying to just make it to the appointment. if i do not receive medical management for my anxiety i will end up sitting in bed unable to move. i'm not there yet but that's where this is headed. i can feel it in my bones. my jaw and hands are sore from being clenched all the time. my back is fucking killing me. standing up i have a 50/50 shot of passing out. there are random outbursts that don't make sense in context. it happened once a few weeks ago with my parents. i yelled "i didn't fuck it up." made absolutely no sense. it happened last night too, when i yelled "don't you fucking dare touch me like that ever again," which also made no sense. i wasn't really in my body either time it happened. my words may as well be salad at this point because in class and at work i don't make sense. i ask the same customers the same questions over and over again as if i hadn't asked them thirty seconds prior. i sound stupid in class because i can't string words together to make a sentence when called on.

i was diagnosed with bipolar ii in 2021. i never really thought it fit but the meds worked, until they didn't. then i got covid for a second time. it basically brought my life to a grinding halt. when my mother was recovering from covid, she developed cptsd. my grandmother has non-epileptic seizures brought on by trauma. it's no surprise that this is happening. but good god it's an awful time. i had to quit my job today because i can't take the stress. i'm going to go home at christmas and sleep for 3 days at the very least.

#well this could be a mountain goats song

[nothorses]

Top Surgery Journal

I figured it was time to share my top surgery experiences, so folks can potentially learn from them! I'll be updating this as I have more to add.

For context, I am in the U.S. (specifically Washington state), and a legal adult. A lot of my process may not apply to everyone.

Getting Coverage

The first step to scheduling top surgery is getting insurance coverage for it. Talk to your insurance first to figure out if they do cover top surgery, and what you need to do in order to obtain coverage. Oftentimes it won't be listed officially on your plan, but you can get coverage as long as you can prove you need it.

I was lucky enough to have good insurance with trans healthcare included, so all I needed was a letter from my PCP, and a letter from a behavioral health counselor specializing in gender dysphoria. I didn't need any diagnoses, any specific length of time on HRT, any particular presentation, etc.

(If you live in Washington, state law requires that top surgery be fully covered under Medicare. It might be worth it to check your state's laws as well!)

Referrals

I tried to schedule with a surgeon myself, thinking it was my responsibility to get the documents sent over and everything, but my PCP actually referred me when I first told her I had gotten coverage from my insurance.

I ended up going with that referral because the other surgeon was so hard to get ahold of, but my PCP did also send a referral to the surgeon I'd chosen before. I recommend going through your PCP for referrals first, as it takes a lot of the workload off of you- and they'll likely write a referral anyway when sending the documents needed for coverage over.

You may also find that the surgeon you talk to has different requirements than your insurance before performing top surgery. A referral from your PCP might bypass these requirements, but be sure to call them yourself and double-check. Your surgeon's office is supposed to call you to schedule a consultation, and they may not call you at all if you don't have all of those documents in- which means you can be left in limbo indefinitely, not knowing you need to send them more than you already did.

The Consultation

I was able to get a consultation about 5 weeks after calling, which was great! The consultation is your opportunity to ask the surgeon any questions you have, for them to evaluate your chest and what methods might work for you, and for you to see their results (most surgeons do not post result photos online for privacy reasons).

Come into the consultation with all the questions you have written down somewhere, so you don't forget. I asked:

If I could see photographs of his top surgery results

Which incisions he thought would work for me, stressing the things that were important to me: minimal recovery time, no free nipple grafts (I wanted to keep mine, but without risking a failed graft), and minimal chance of needing revisions

What my recovery would look like for the recommended incisions

Whether I will be getting drains (ideally, yes: drains reduce recovery time and the risk of needing revisions)

If he's had patients who have had complications (failed grafts, infections, need for revisions, etc.) and what he's done to reduce the chances of that happening again

My surgeon's results looked good (scars were even and symmetrical, healed nicely, etc.) and he answered my questions really well, so I was happy to go with him!

He recommended the fishmouth method for me, because recovery time would be minimal, there would be no need for nipple grafts, and my chest was small enough for it to work really well.

Scheduling the Surgery

My surgeon didn't have a very long waitlist, but it still took about 3 weeks for the clinic to process my request with my insurance (yes, even though I already had coverage). Once they'd processed that, they called me with a window of time I could schedule within; after a few months, insurance would no longer cover the surgery.

I got an extension, as I was working an intense summer job that I couldn't really take a few weeks off of to recover, then scheduled my surgery over the phone. They asked if I wanted a pre-op appointment, and I declined, as it'd mostly be information covered in the consultation or that could be given to me over the phone.

Preparing for Surgery

I wasn't given a check-in time for the hospital until about 2pm the day before, but they finally did call me and give me some instructions, including:

My check-in time and place

The hospital's phone number, to give to my ride/caretaker in case they had questions

That I was not to bring visitors (cause covid)

To bring my ID, insurance card, and credit card

That I was not to eat or drink anything after 12am that night (I did drink a bit of water with my meds, which they seemed fine with)

To shower with antibacterial soap the night before, and the morning of the surgery

Not to wear hair or skin products like deoderant or gel

Not to wear any jewelry, or anything else removable that wasn't just a clothing item.

When I checked into the hospital, they had my fill out some paperwork including the name and number of my ride and caretaker (which could be the same or separate people; they called the ride number when it was time to pick me up, and the caretaker number with detailed updates on my progress). Then they had me change into the hospital gown and answer some medical history questions, prepped me with an IV, and had a nurse, both anesthesiologists involved in my surgery, and my surgeon check in with me for more information and to answer any last questions I had.

I was told to use the bathroom about 20 minutes before I would be going under for my surgery (to avoid needing a catheter), and once I did, they injected some anesthetic into my IV and I passed the fuck out.

After Surgery

I showed up to the hospital at about 9am, and the prepping ended around 11am. The surgery was scheduled to end at 2pm; I wasn't conscious until about 3pm.

They had me use the restroom again (I passed out on the floor of the bathroom because it was way too soon, lmao), and I was in and out of sleep until I finally used the bathroom on my own at about 5pm. At that point I was a lot more lucid; I had some toast and pudding, and the nurse called my caretaker to go over post-op instructions with us both.

After that I dressed myself, was wheeled out to pick up my pain meds at the in-hospital pharmacy, then hopped in the car with my ride (the wonderful @lillia-pad) at about 5:30pm.

Recovery

I have a pretty high tolerance for anesthetic, so I was mostly just tired during the 36-ish hours the anesthetic continued to wear off. I didn't experience any nausea or lightheadedness either, but I was given an anti-nausea patch behind my left ear, plus some anti-nausea meds, just in case.

My post-op regimen sort of looks like this:

Take 1-2 tablets of oxycodone every 4 hours (for pain)

Take 2 tablets of laxative meds twice a day (cause pain meds cause constipation)

Empty drains twice per day, and record how much was in them

Get up and walk around every couple of hours to reduce the risk of blood clots

Ease into eating again: start with clear fluids, and work up to crackers/bread/etc., to avoid nausea and vomiting.

Lay down propped up on plenty of pillows, and only on your back (no side-sleeping!)

Keep the compression binder/gauze on for the first 48 hours, then remove them to shower as needed (but put them back on after!)

I was pretty lucid by the third day post-surgery, and was able to scale my pain meds down pretty quickly from 2 tabs on the first day, to 1 tab for the next two days, to 1/2 tab. Meds are much more important at night, when there's nothing to distract you from the pain- don't be afraid to ration them for nighttime.

Oxycodone also definitely causes drowsiness, so I took a lot of "oxy naps" about 45-60 minutes after I took my meds, which last between 20 minutes and 2 hours depending on how tired I am.

I have my post-op this week, so I will update this post with more details on my scars and healing then!

#top surgery #trans #transgender #ftm #transition #trans men #trans man #transmasc #transmasculine #nothorses #resources

[btsydtrash]

So Far Away [1]

single father yoongi x preschool teacher YN

Living as a single father, Yoongi had to make many adjustments to his lifestyle, specifically in two aspects: his sleep schedule and dating. Both of which, he doesn't get to pay enough attention to.

Things all change when he meets YN - a warm-hearted girl who gives him butterflies and makes him feel as if he's floating on cloud nine.

Now, all that he has to do is get her to actually notice him.

Masterlist / i dont have a tag list / find me on twitter  /  word count: 2.3k

(Author’s note: Yoongi is so precious in this. This is entirely for me and my head-canon. Also, YN is a plus-sized, confident black girl who has lived in Korea since high school, for context. You can apply your own aesthetics to YN, but that’s how I picture her.)

(angst / fluff / gore / yandere / smut)

Chapter 1 - Sweetness

“I’ve asked you nicely,” Yoongi bargains, holding up the half-empty cup of apple juice. “Now, it’s a ransom. Let me finish your braid and then you can have your sippy-cup.”

His four-year-old daughter simply stares at him, her lip curling up in his signature scowl and she slams a hand down on the yellow plastic miniature table. “That’s not how this works, boss.”

He huffs at the terrible nickname, knowing that he was going to kick Jungkook’s bunny-ass the next time he sees him for letting his child watch a movie about loansharks, knowing how fixated she gets on the most asinine of things. Her ADHD makes it hard for her to let things go once she likes them, like this fucking apple juice cup or the stupid movie with the cliche ending that left her calling him things like ‘big boss’ and ‘head of the clan’.

He rubs his thumb and index finger into his eyes and wishes, he wishes, he could brain himself, but he can’t because has to finish this fucking braid and get his child to pre-school before nine because he can’t be late again without having to pay a stupid fine.

He bites his lip to stop himself from swearing - another one of her fixations a couple months back - and lets out another huff of air.

“Sit in my lap, drink your apple juice,” he tells her handing the pink cup over and watches as she happily climbs into his lap and turns around, letting him play in her head. He doesn’t often do styles in her hair, they always turn out weirdly uneven or messy, but he tries, damn it.

“Under, then over, then under,” he mutters to himself, tongue half out of his mouth as he tries to latch the hair in a proper way to create a three-strand braid like he saw on the YouTube video last night.

“Boss, we’re late,” she sing-songs, sometime later after she changed into her clothes (a teal tutu, some converse and a pink t-shirt with a sequin star in the middle of her chest that changes color if you rub it in opposing directions - his child is such a fucking badass) and brushed her teeth. “Gonna get into trouble again.”

“Trouble, my ass,” he growls, slamming the door to the driver’s side a little harder than necessary. He turns to his daughter in her car seat and grumbles, “Don’t repeat that.”

She salutes him and goes back to playing with her dolls and teddy bears that litter the back of his 2010 Volvo, the only car he could afford after everything that happened. He glances down at the tattoo on his forearm, brow puckering as unwanted memories flood the forefront of his brain.

���Today really sucks,” he grumbles, turning the wheel to round the corner. His stomach grumbles and he takes another sip of black coffee, and he feels the caffeine pumping through his system, waking him up a little. He rolls his neck, glancing at his daughter in the rear-view mirror, and he feels a genuine smile tug at his lips.

She’s the only reason why he hasn’t disappeared off somewhere by himself. He doesn’t want to be like his own dad, emotionally absent and physically abusive. The day he found out he was going to be a father, he swears he hasn’t felt a stronger burst of pure euphoria hit his system.

Of course, he was terrified - he was shitting himself at every appointment, at every breathing class, at each mommy-and-me meeting. He thought he would be the worst dad, that he somehow would screw up worse than his own loser father and diabolical mother did with him.

But he didn’t.

He did a great fucking job with her.

“Hey, Sena,” he calls back to his pretty daughter. She looks up, her face a perfect composition of her mother’s but her expressions, they were all him, and he takes a minute to just look at her. “I love you, stinky.”

She curls up her face and sniffs herself. “Not stinky, daddy.”

“You’re right,” he agrees. “You’re very stinky.”

She rolls her eyes and kicks the back of his seat, pouting.

“Stop saying that, meanie,” she complains. “I’m not stinky!”

He laughs, eyes crinkling in the corners and he nods. “Sorry, pretty girl. You’re right. Daddy was being annoying.”

She purses her lips and asks, “What’s ‘annoying’?”

“It means when someone says or does something that you don’t like,” he explains.

She asks, “A bad word?”

“Something like that,” he agrees.

“Annoying,” she repeats, slowly, and he feels his heart sink at the intrigued expression of her face: the birth of a new habit. “Annoying!”

He groans but says nothing. He has done enough at this point. He turns up the stereo and taps his finger along to the song playing over the radio, his daughter kicking out her legs and pumping her arms excitedly along to the music.

If she got nothing from him, she got his love of music and sound.

They get to her pre-school on time, and he waves her into her room - the sign above the door reads Honolulu.

He asks aloud, curiously, “Why Honolulu of all cities?”

“Waikiki Beach is one of the prettiest places on Earth,” a tender voice tells him from the door. He jerks and looks back down to see one of the prettiest faces he’s ever seen in his life. She smiles that warm smile that makes him feel like he is walking on static. “Hi, Mr. Min.”

“Hi, YN,” he stammers, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Had a good morning?”

She nods, holding a cup of what he already knows is hot chocolate with cinnamon syrup and honey (way too sweet, but it fits her, so fucking well).

She explains, excitedly, “Yes, I got here early because today is painting day and I wanted to try this new technique that- Oh, I don’t want to bore you with the details, but you’ll see later when Sena comes home. She’s always so excited to show you her work.”

“Miss YN!”

Yoongi watches as his daughter latches onto her teacher’s legs (shapely, thick, curvaceous - god his knees are getting weak) and she chastises, “You’re not supposed to tell him!”

YN puts a hand to her mouth and gives Sena an exaggeratedly apologetic look. “I’m sorry, Sena. I didn’t mean to.”

“That’s annoying!”

YN’s eyes widen at his daughter’s choice of words, and Yoongi feels himself shrivel up inside.

He says, reaching into the class to pull his daughter out and he crouches down so they are eye-level, “Sena! I told you - it’s a bad word.”

She blinks up at him, sniffing a bit, before glancing back towards YN, who is simply watching their exchange with curious eyes. Sena’s eyes get watery instantly and her bottom lip trembles. “I-… Sorry, daddy.”

“Not to me,” he says, softly. He turns his daughter by her shoulders and directs her to her teacher. “Tell Miss YN.”

YN ducks down so she is at the same level and gives Sena an inviting smile.

Sena sniffles a bit, scrubbing a hand across her face, wiping away her tears and she says, voice trembling, “I’m sorry, Miss YN. I said a bad word.”

“Thank you for saying sorry, Sena,” YN says, softly. “What’s rule number 3 for class?”

“No bad words, no mean things,” she recites by heart. “I’m sorry.”

YN puts a hand on Sera’s shoulder and gives her a comforting smile. “It’s okay, but I’m putting one point in the basket. You have until the end of class to earn it back, okay?”

Sena’s heart seems to break at the mere idea of losing one of her precious ‘good noodle points’ (she has the most in the class and losing even one was unacceptable to her) but she nods, despondently.

“Go play,” YN tells Sena, directing her to the upended toy box in the middle of the room. YN has three other students quietly playing together and they are waiting for the other three parents to drop off their kids (two twins and a little boy, if Yoongi remembers correctly). YN returns to Yoongi and gives him an appreciative smile. “Thank you for that.”

He shakes his head. “It was my fault. One slip of the tongue earlier means that for the next month I’m going to have to hear her say ‘annoying’ half a billion times. She never gets attached to things that I need her to, like brushing her hair or making her bed.”

YN lets out a little giggle and Yoongi swears, he swears, he has never heard anything as sweet in his life.

“She’s precious,” YN tells him, and her eyes are shining, they are honest, and he feels choked up all of a sudden. His phone vibrates twice in his pocket and he jerks again, fishing it out and letting out a quiet curse at the text.

“I, uh, gotta go,” he tells YN, and he knows he looks pathetic but it’s not every morning that he gets to talk to her, so he’s reluctant to cut the conversation off.

She brightens up his day, damn it.

Her fucking smile, her pearly white teeth, and shapely lips. Her cheeks, so round and full of joy. Her skin, so smooth and brown, contrasting so sharply with his own pale skin. She always wears skirts or long dresses to work, like a character from one of his favorite movies, but today… today, she’s wearing jeans and he wants to stare at her forever.

Her eyes widen a little and she straightens out from where she had begun to relax against the doorframe and nods. “Of course. Go. Have a great day, Mr. Min.”

He stops, letting out a breath and he steels himself before he turns to her. “It’s Yoongi. Call me Yoongi.”

Her lips form an ‘o’ shape before she nods, cheeks pinking slightly at the familiarity. “Sure thing… Yoongi.”

He hears the sound of her quietly whispering his name echoing in his head for hours.

“If you have a crush on this girl, just ask her out,” Jungkook says, around a mouthful of spicy ramen, shoveling the noodles into his mouth at rapid speed. “We’ve listened to you lament about how much you like her for nearly a year at this point. Hyung. It’s getting kind of… you know, embarrassing.”

“Shut it, you prick,” Yoongi growls out from under a car, using his wrench to tighten bolts that he knows are already more than tight enough. His face is just too red to come out yet and he doesn’t want to hear them tease him anymore. “I’ll talk to her when I feel like it.”

“How do you know she isn’t married or something?” Namjoon asks from the computer in the nearest room. The door is open, and the five of them (Yoongi, Namjoon, Jungkook, Jimin, and Hoseok) are all dotted around the mechanic’s office, doing everything and nothing at the same time.

“She isn’t,” he says, finally pulling himself out. Jimin holds out his hand and helps Yoongi to his feet. “She’s single.”

Namjoon asks, “And you know this, how?”

His lips purse slightly. “I saw her on Tinder.”

Jungkook snorts so loud, he sniffs up some ramen and he starts to cry out in pain.

“That’s what you get, you dick,” Hoseok jeers from the sofa, where he’s flipping through a magazine, eating a salad. He makes a face, like he smells something sour, as he continues, “So, she’s on the apps? Hyung, you know nothing good comes from being on them.”

Yoongi nods, knowingly. “I just- I don’t know how to talk to her.”

“You talk to her just fine, Hyung,” Jimin says, lightly. “You said you talked to her today.”

“I mumbled at her,” he replies, slinging the dirty rag over his shoulder. His hands were still dirty, they almost always were these days, oil and grime caked under his nails and his palms stained with grease and dirt. “She’s used to dealing with kids who barely speak in coherent sentences.”

“So, she’ll be perfect for you,” Jungkook quips smartly, and he beams when Yoongi shoots him the middle finger. “Love you too, Hyung.”

“Sena likes her,” Hoseok comments, easily, twisting slightly at the hip and leaning on the back of the sofa to survey the older man. Yoongi twists the rag in his hands, awkwardly, his ears burning as images of his daughter and the woman who has snagged his affection getting along outside of the classroom flood his mind. He feels dizzy with how overwhelmed he is at the mere thought.

“That is the most important thing,” Jimin remarks, leaning against the desk. “We can’t make you do anything, Hyung, but you like her. You really like her. And we just want you to be happy.”

Yoongi casts a side-long glance up at the other man, taking in the cherub-faced mechanic and idly he wonders how more YN would like this kind of a warm, inviting face than his own, stiff and awkward one.

“I know, kiddo,” he replies, giving him a half-hearted smile before turning back to his computer, effectively ending the conversation.

Jimin sighs, but says nothing more, knowing Yoongi to be one of the most stubborn and sensitive people he has ever met. It would have been easier to talk a fish into walking on land, truthfully.

“Later, we have a four-man detail that needs to be done,” Namjoon calls. “We have another guy coming in, too. One of the big boss's son’s friends, I hear. He’s supposed to know how to really turn a wrench.”

Hoseok’s brows raise, intrigued, and he asks, “You haven’t seen his work?”

“He wouldn’t be in my shop if I haven’t seen his work,” Namjoon responds, easily. “I’ve seen before and afters, but none of his actual process. He’s impressive.”

“If you like him for the job, then I trust you,” Jimin answers, straightforwardly. That’s just the kind of person Jimin was - easy-going. “Plus one more body means less work. It means I might actually get to go out on a date or two.”

Jungkook scoffs from his spot on the table, finally finished with his third bowl of ramen. “Don’t kid yourself, Hyung.”

Jimin sniffs. “You’re so rude sometimes, maknae.”

Yoongi turns his attentions back to Namjoon. “What’s the kid’s name?”

Namjoon looks at the folder and holds it up, reading. “Taehyung. Kim Taehyung.”

- end - 

(1), (2), (3), (4), (5)

#min yoongi #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you #preschool teacher yn #single father yoongi #yoongi fluff #bts fluff #btswriterscollective #btswritersguild #btswritersclub #bts fic #non idol AU #single father AU #so far away #myg #agust d #agust d fic #bts suga #plus sized reader #black yn #vmin fic #bts yoongi fic #bts x reader #bts x yn #wi

[fruitcoops]

Could we please have a prequel to the praise kink fic? Because i really want to know why were Sirius and Remus not together and what did Remus send him. I really need context

I was hoping somebody would ask for this!! The aforementioned fic is here for any curious souls (18+ please) and SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for spicy texts (not exactly nudes), and smutty feelings with nothing explicit

The bus went over a bump and Sirius winced as his shins knocked against the back of the seat in front of him, connecting with the metal brace inside. “Fuck.”

“You sure you don’t want to switch?” James asked next to him. Sirius glanced down at the veritable wall of gear and empty snack bags between them, then back to James in disbelief. He shrugged, then set his headphones back over his ears. “Worth a shot.”

“Merde,” Sirius hissed as a pothole nearly took off his kneecap. He gritted his teeth and readjusted, drawing his legs closer to his chest. I want to be home, he thought, allowing himself an internal moment to whine.

He checked his phone—not even ten in the morning. It was a Saturday, so Remus would probably just be rolling out of bed, still sleepy and soft with his hair sticking up like a disgruntled cat’s. Sirius sighed heavily and stared out the window at the small town rolling past in the distance; there was little he wouldn’t give to be back with him instead of on the way to a full week of conferences.

“Why did we have to win the Cup?” he grumbled.

James lifted one side of his headphones. “What?”

“Nothing.”

It wasn’t like they had had much time to themselves before that, either—Sirius’ schedule was packed with interviews that felt more like interrogations, and Remus had been running the PT department mostly by himself while Moody took a well-deserved vacation. They were dead on their feet every night, worked to the bone with little energy left to do more than cuddle and fall asleep. Still, Sirius was grateful for every second of it.

He waited ten more minutes before giving in.

New Message To: Re

Bonjour mon loup <3

There was no immediate response, which made sense, though he was a little bit disappointed. Sirius closed his eyes and tried to make himself relax; it would be at least another six hours before they arrived at their destination, and the bad weather gathering overhead didn’t bode well for quick travel.

His phone buzzed gently and he scrambled to answer. Don’t be Reg, don’t be Reg, don’t be Reg—

New Message From: Re

Morning love!

Thanks for the bagels <3

“Fuck yes,” Sirius said under his breath. The bagels had been a last-minute decision as he crept through the house in the early hours of the morning after carefully detaching himself from Remus with a final half-asleep farewell kiss. There was no guarantee he would remember breakfast with everything going on, so Sirius figured it was a safe bet to toast them and leave them on the countertop before heading out.

Message To: Re

Pas de problem

Sleep well?

Message From: Re

Decent

Missed you :(

Sirius rested his temple against the cold window with a soft sound. He hated leaving at different times, but that was just how their life worked at the moment.

Message To: Re

Missed you too <3

Three small dots appeared for a long moment before vanishing without a trace just as his heart rate began picking up. Where’d you go? he almost wondered aloud. Something bumped his arm and James raised a quizzical brow. “Loops,” Sirius said by way of explanation.

“I figured. He okay?”

“I think so? He just…disappeared on me.” Sirius was well-aware of how plaintive he sounded—James’ teasing smile was completely unnecessary.

“Aw, Cap,” he laughed, reaching over to mess with his beanie until Sirius slapped his hand away. “It’s alright, buddy, it’s just a couple days.”

Sirius jammed his hat back on his head and flicked James on the unprotected bit of his ear, making him yelp. “Fuck off, I know you’ll be a mess as soon as Lily FaceTimes with my godson.”

“He has a name, you know.”

“Sorry. You’ll be a mess as soon as she FaceTimes with Pocket Pots, who happens to be my godson.”

James rolled his eyes. “I regret giving you that title.”

“Nah, you don’t.”

As if on cue, his phone lit up again; Sirius ignored James’ snickering as he quickly unlocked it.

New Message From: Re

When will you be at the hotel?

“That’s it?” he muttered.

Message To: Re

That was a lot of typing for one sentence

6-7 hrs, if the weather holds

Why?

Message From: Re

Sorry lmao Reg came in for a bit

Just curious :) Keep me updated?

Message To: Re

Will do <3

Tell Reg he needs to wash his sheets. It’s been over a month.

A small thumbs-up emoji was his only answer, and he tried not to be too bummed. Remus liked having things to do; sitting there and texting Sirius while he slowly got further and further away was probably not his preferred way to spend a morning. With a sigh that was likely a bit too dramatic for the situation he was in, Sirius faced the window once more and buckled in for a long ride.

He chatted off and on with the others when they stopped for lunch, but everyone was exhausted from the combination of a packed week and an early morning. Even Talker stayed fairly quiet, and James kept his headphones on for most of the trip.

Sirius finally succumbed to his tiredness and put some music on, then dozed for an hour or three while they traveled through yet another field. A few halfhearted calls of “cows” made their way around the bus, though nobody seemed particularly enthused about being packed in with double the gear due to a broken storage compartment. Donuts and gas station coffee could only do so much.

“Just crossed the state border,” Arthur called from the front of the bus as Sirius tried to ignore the cramping in his thighs. Three hours. Just three more.

His music was interrupted by a soft jingle alert and he pulled his phone out, hoping against hope that Regulus hadn’t caused a fire anywhere. It was unlikely given the…well, everything about him, but with Sirius’ luck it could happen.

New Message From: Re

How far?

Message To: Re

About 3 hrs. Ran into some detours

Good day?

Remus remained silent on the other end and Sirius frowned. That was rather rude, and highly unusual. Between the two of them, Remus was the one who kept conversations going past the initial question to be answered.

Message From: Re

Attachment: 1 Image

Love you! Call me when you get there : )

Sirius opened the attachment and almost threw his phone in utter shock. Skin. Bare skin everywhere, its smooth edges broken up only by tight black fabric that may as well have been painted onto the curve of Remus’ ass. “Oh my god,” he whimpered, voice barely audible even to his own ears. It had been taken in their bedroom mirror; Remus looked over his shoulder, and Sirius caught the corner of a devious smirk on his lips. “Oh, you fucker.”

Message From: Re

Thoughts? They’re cozy

Message To: Re

Did you miss the part where I said three (3) hours

Message From: Re

Nope

Second one is a guessing game and u get a prize if u get it right : )

The second photograph was more zoomed-in than the first and Sirius wracked his brain, running through his mental catalogue of Remus’ body to figure out the answer. It did absolutely nothing to calm the situation in his pants.

He had no idea what the promised prize was, but anticipation made his hands shake slightly as he carefully scanned the picture. The shadows caught it at an odd angle—it wasn’t the steady slopes of his face or neck, nor was it the strong curve of a shoulder. Not enough freckles, either, he thought.

A lightbulb lit in the back of his mind.

Message To: Re

Right hip

Another thought connected half a second later.

Holy fuck you took them off

Is that my prize?

Re?

Remus Lupin I swear to god

TEXT ME BACK

Message From: Re

Bingo!

Christ you’re impatient, I was gone for like 2 mins

He chanced a look toward Pots, whose head lolled to the side as he snored.

Message To: Re

Hey quick question why are you like this

It’s a good thing Pots is out cold bc this bus is too small to hide anything

Message From: Re

Haha sux to be you

Sirius’ cheeks heated with a whole cocktail of different emotions as he furiously typed a response.

Message To: Re

‘Sux to be you’???

Are you 13 yrs old????

Message From: Re

Do you want your prize or not u horndog

Message To: Re

YOU MADE ME THIS WAY

He took a deep breath through his nose and flexed his fingers.

Yes please

A simple smiley face—Sirius would never see those things the same—popped up, followed by an audio file. He triple-checked that his headphones were plugged in before tapping ‘play’ with an unsteady thumb.

His face went very, very hot before all the blood went straight to his groin and he closed his eyes, covering his mouth with his hand. Breathy sounds came through the heavy earphones, a little more crackly than they would be in-person; he heard Remus’ gasp catch in his throat and crossed his legs as best he could in the too-small seat, torn between thanking and cursing any higher power. He could practically see Remus’ face in his mind’s eye as the noises continued, intermixed with fragments of desperate words.

The file came to an end after what felt like the blink of an eye and a hundred years, and Sirius did not look away from the violently red seat cushion in front of him for a long moment as his brain came back online. He couldn’t remember the last time he was so turned on.

He took a few deep breaths, though it did nothing to erase the poorly-muffled whines that still rang between his ears like church bells. Sirius huffed and turned to grab his waterbottle out of his duffel, only to make direct eye contact with Finn across the aisle.

Sirius froze.

Finn grinned.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he hissed, too low to wake James but just loud enough to carry over the four feet separating them. Finn’s smile widened. “Stop it. Stop it right now.”

“How’s Loops?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“That good, huh?”

“O’Hara, I swear to god—”

“Oh, is Cap spilling secrets?” Kasey asked, poking his head over the back of the seat.

Finn opened his mouth, but the force of Sirius’ glare must have been enough to at least intimidate him a little, because he shook his head. The smug Cheshire grin remained. “Nah, just having a chat about our plans when we get home.”

Kasey groaned. “You’re a lucky man, O’Hara. Both your people get to come with you. Nat sent me a promise, like, twenty minutes ago and I can’t stop thinking about it. I won’t be available tonight from six to eight if anyone was wondering.”

“Did she really?” Finn looked back to Sirius, who bit the inside of his cheek and tried to keep his cool. Two and a half hours, and then he would be safe. Just two and a half more hours.

[hawthornewhisperer]

epiphanies

Some DILF!Draco for @ambpersand. Currently 1,500 words and rated T, but I hope to add a second chapter tonight/tomorrow/soon that would be rated M. This will stay tumblr-only until I have that second chapter ready, then I'll put the whole shebang up on Ao3.

Inspired by this incredible fanart by @mignon-chignon and thank you to @bgonemydear for her on-the-spot betaing.

Hermione hadn’t even finished getting dressed when the owl from the Ministry arrived. She scanned the note, swore under her breath, and dashed off a reply. If the Mitford hearing had been moved up, that meant she needed the files and she needed them today.

She had last seen them in Malfoy's briefcase as he went home two days ago, but he'd been out of the office ever since. She hurried up the stairs to her building’s owlery, scribbled a note to Malfoy and returned to her flat, hoping against hope she was wrong.

His return owl arrived when she was halfway through her toast and she groaned under her breath. Mitford files are at my place. I’ll leave them in the Floo Parlor.

That was it, not even his initials as a sign off. “Rude prat,” she grumbled under her breath. Malfoy had been working at the firm with her for the past six months, and while he was no longer the sneering bully she remembered from Hogwarts, he was an exceedingly grumpy arsehole most of the time. Everything he said was clipped and sardonic, and he seemed to have a deathly allergy to saying thank you. She would have hated working with him if he wasn’t so bloody good at his job, which had downgraded her feelings towards him from “loathe completely” to “tolerate grudgingly.”

Hermione always did have a weakness for competence.

She grabbed her blazer and joined the queue in the lobby for the floo, still piling her hair into a bun on the top of her head when she took her turn.

Malfoy’s Floo Parlor was immaculate. It looked like a magazine spread, tastefully decorated and without even a speck of dust. In contrast, her tiny flat looked like a library had exploded in it, largely because one basically had.

But of course Malfoy’s was neat and tidy and...empty. The Mitford files were nowhere to be seen. She let loose a swear that would have made her ex-husband proud and steeled herself to walk into Malfoy’s apartment proper, wishing she had had time for an extra cup of tea if she was going to have to deal with his surly face before nine am.

She pushed open the door to the rest of his flat, ready to snap at him, and froze.

He had his back to her, looking out the expansive window that framed much of London, and the first thing she noticed was he had a very nice back.

A very nice bare back, because he was shirtless. Shirtless and holding a baby.

She knew he had a child, of course. He had one framed photo of the boy on his desk— the only photo of any kind in his entire office, which otherwise resembled a prison cell with a very fancy sofa— but Malfoy did not talk about personal matters at work. All she knew was his name— Scorpius— and that he was approximately Albus Potter’s age.

The little boy shared his father’s blond hair, but there was a soft curl to the ends that must have come from his mother. The Malfoy-Greengrass divorce had been the subject of more than one gossip page article, but Hermione hadn’t read any of them— she didn’t like how exploitative they felt, turning people’s pain into sport for entertainment.

Not that she cared much about Malfoy’s pain, per se, but it was the principle of the thing.

Scorpius’s eyes were red rimmed and his cheeks looked sticky with tears as he eyed her over his father’s shoulder. His father’s exceptionally muscled, well defined, bare shoulder. The boy pawed at his eye with a chubby fist and she watched as Draco pressed a soft kiss to the side of his son’s head, the sort of careless affection she was used to seeing from Harry with his boys but she had never once thought she would see from Malfoy. “It’s okay buddy, I know. It hurts,” she heard him murmur, and she realized she had been staring for entirely too long.

She cleared her throat and he turned with a start. “Fuck, the Mitford files,” he said, the soft look on his face vanishing in an instant.

Hermione felt an odd sort of loss when his familiar cold mask slipped into place, like she had gotten a glimpse of something she would never see again.

Why she wanted to see that look on his face again was a mystery she didn't much feel like solving.

“They’re in my study, hold on,” he added, shifting Scorpius higher on his hip and padding barefoot towards a closed door.

Hermione used his absence to compose herself. She was just thrown by seeing her coworker out of context, that was all.

Out of context and shirtless with an unfairly sculpted chest, plus a pair of joggers slung low across his hips. Did all men have muscles that arrowed down from their hips like that? That was not something she had seen in the flesh before, and it had her flustered.

By the time he returned with the Mitford file, she was thoroughly uncomposed. “You know if you’re going to be off work you really shouldn’t take home client files that can’t be owled,” she snapped.

Anger flashed across his face. “I’ll be sure to have Scorpius schedule his sleep regressions and teething fits with you next time,” he growled.

“It’s nothing to do with him,” she said, doing her best to keep her eyes anywhere but where they wanted to be, which was staring at the play of morning light on the planes of his chest. “These files are supposed to stay at the office for a reason, Malfoy.”

Exhaustion abruptly flooded his features. He pressed his thumb and forefinger into his eyes and Scorpius nuzzled into his neck. “I know,” he said, broad shoulders slumping. “Look, this week has been hell. I didn’t think I would be out this long. I’m sorry,” he added, and quite frankly, she never thought Draco Malfoy would ever apologize to her for anything.

The shock from hearing those two words was the only explanation for what came out of her mouth next. “When was the last time you showered?”

Something that was almost a smile tugged the corner of his mouth up. “I look that bad, huh?”

Actually he looked like a Greek god carved out of marble but she wasn’t about to tell him that. And he did have rather alarming purple shadows under his eyes, plus stubble that indicated it had been several days since he shaved. “You’ve looked better,” she said, reaching out and plucking Scorpius from his arm. “I don’t have to be in for a bit. Go shower.”

He hesitated, but Scorpius was already interestedly pulling at her hair. “Okay,” Malfoy said, something unreadable in his grey eyes. “It’ll only be a minute.”

Hermione stuck her tongue out at Scorpius, who giggled. “Take your time.”

By the time Malfoy emerged from his bedroom, freshly showered and shaved and in jeans and a white v-neck shirt, Hermione and Scorpius were on the living room floor while he clambered all over her like a muggle jungle gym. Scorpius was fascinated by her hair and was sitting next to her while she laid flat on her back, grabbing chubby fistfuls and yanking on it.

“Careful, he’ll skin you bald if you let him,” Malfoy drawled.

She pushed herself up to sitting, at first grateful Draco had put on a shirt and then disappointed as it meant his chest was now hidden from view. But then he crossed his arms and the muscles in his biceps strained against the sleeve of his shirt, and she circled back to grateful again.

“There’s plenty to go around,” she said, gently prying Scorpius’s hand from her hair and retying it into a bun. Draco's gaze rested on her as she did, and an unaccountable blush started crawling up her neck.

“Sorry about earlier,” he said, sitting down on the couch, lifting Scorpius into his lap and bringing the total number of apologies she had ever heard from his lips to two.

She shrugged. “Honestly? You’ve been worse.”

He huffed, a noise that almost sounded like a laugh. “I have been a prat, haven’t I? Between the divorce and Scorpius, I’ve been an arsehole at the office. I’ll try and do better,” he said.

The utter sincerity of his words drew her up short. “Actually, I was talking about Hogwarts but yes, you have been a prat at the office.”

Draco blinked. “Fuck, I— I never apologized for that, did I?”

“You didn’t, but it’s okay,” she said surprising herself. Apologies were nice, but they didn't mean much if the person didn't actually try to improve. She wasn’t sure when, exactly, but at some point in the last six months she had stopped thinking of who Malfoy used to be and accepted that he had changed for the better.

“It’s not, though,” he said. “Again, with the divorce and everything I’ve been— it’s isolating, is all. I'm sorry.”

“Pity there’s no one else in this room who knows what it’s like to go through a divorce,” she said drily.

His eyebrows shot up. “Are you saying I can come to you for tea and sympathy, Granger?”

“I’m saying you don’t have to do this all alone,” she said gently, and stood. “McAvoy will be waiting on the Mitford brief though. I should get going.”

He stood, Scorpius once again snuggling into his chest. “Thanks, Granger. I owe you one,” he said.

Hermione leaned over to place a kiss on Scorpius’s soft curls without even thinking. She could smell Draco’s skin that close, the soap and shampoo from his shower filling her nostrils. “I’ll hold you to that,” she said, and headed towards the Floo Parlor, Mitford files safely in hand.

She only wished she could say the same for her hormones.

#dramione #dramione fic #draco x hermione #single dad!draco #divorced!hermione

[wizkiddx]

unusable faces

i have exams hence why i needed to write something exceptionally cringe :)

PSA: this is completely inspired from one of my fave writers own blurb @blissfulparker​ --> completely recommend u go read hers its much better than anything i could ever write!!!! (and just her whole account) = link

Summary: pure exhaustion and mutual pining, Tom Holland x actress!reader

^(just thought this was cute, doesn't really fit aha but full credit to op!!)

A scheduling nightmare would be putting it lightly. Perhaps almost unavoidable but that didn’t make it any less of a hellish form a torture. Harry had very helpfully said it actually was a form of torture, that is sleep deprivation. Y/n loved her job - it was all she’d ever really wanted - yet that thought was quickly becoming not enough to get her through the day. Not when it felt like an interrogation tactic used by the CIA. 

To give a quick timeline of the past few days may give a little context:

Thursday - filming the fight scene all day plus an evening-turned-half-the-night-shoot due to some technically difficulties delaying the process.

Friday - flying to New York while doing read throughs of scenes for the next few days; followed immediately by getting glammed and filming the tonight show with Fallon; then a dash across town to the late late show with James Corden; then straight back on a flight to Atlanta that landed at stupid o’clock in the morning

Saturday - a full day of shooting in a mock grand central station set

The press trip to NY had been unplanned… to say the least. But the star of their studios other new release had taken ill - meaning they had slots booked on some of the biggest talk shows in America that would just be abandoned (angering the shows bookers too). It was a waste of perfectly good promo time and since the studio had their two other stars together doing a block of reshoots - it wasn’t a conversation. Much more a call demanding the two of them to be on the plane.

Normally this wouldn’t be such an unmanageable ask either, except the reshoot block was really rather time pressured. You see, the promo tour wasn’t far from beginning meaning they really needed the final film in the can. So really it was a bit of a mess. Just to free up that single day the two were in New York the whole schedule had had to be rejigged - in doing so they’d lost a rare day off too. It was just typical.  

The joys of success hey?

Well, that’s at least what Y/n was making herself think whilst her incredibly talented SFX artist was in the process of crafting a deep wound onto her upper arm. The reason why she would be ‘dripping with blood’ whilst at a train station was beyond Y/n to be honest - she hadn’t been allowed to read a lot of the script so even now as filming was drawing to a close, the story arc of the movie she was headlining was still a little ‘fuzzy’.

“So I watched your ‘spill your guts’ thing on YouTube” Ellie giggled whilst reaching over for more prosthetic putty- a technical term apparently

“I’m glad one of us enjoyed the experience” Y/n replied with a sigh, rolling her eyes at the mischievous smirk on her face - no doubt Ellie took great joy out of seeing her suffer through eating a thousand year old egg. Which Y/n swore the taste of was still in her mouth… and it seemed as though it’d never leave. 

“Oh don’t worry darling I did too” Nelli called over from the next chair along, where she was doing Tom’s makeup for the day of shoots. “Between that and the animals on Fallon, you made a hell of a lot of people laugh last night” Tom’s artist was referencing the fact one of Jimmys other guests was a zookeeper, so at the end of the interview he had you and Tom join in trying not to scream at the snakes and spiders.

“You mean laugh at us?” 

“Well of course darling!” Nelli exclaimed back in an overdramatic bronx accent making all three of the women burst out laughing, Ellie’s unceremonious snorts echoing through the trailer only egged them all on more.

Tom in response, who had otherwise been absent from conversation for the majority of the morning, exclaimed a curse and jumped up in his chair. While you and Ellie collected yourself, Nelli apologised to him.

“Oh sorry love, I’m interrupting your snooze with my uncontrollable comedic gift” She spoke sweetly, even if still taking the moment to flaunt to the other women, as she squeezed his shoulder compassionately.

“No no” Tom waved off her apology, attempting to rub his eye before Nelli swatted his arm away - a stern look for the risk of ruining all her hard work she’d put into making his face look half presentable. 

“I’m impressed you can sleep while they poke you with all these er instruments” Y/n added in, having only just realised Tom had been in a light sleep for god knows how long they’d been in that chair. It did seem a bit unlikely, being able to fall asleep as you were dabbed, prodded and brushed. 

“Maybe you should try though Y/n… your purple eye bags are proving a struggle even for me” Ellie quipped back, now it was Y/n’s turn to give the stern look. Tom took the explain though, shutting her off from whatever kindly meant insult she was about to throw back at her friend. 

“No normally never, I just….” He was cut off by an ear splitting yawn, appearing almost powerful enough to crack his jaw - which would be a disaster, for no one should ruin such a beautiful and sharp jaw line. “…uh-sorry. I just think I ended up taking my NyQuil and DayQuil the wrong way round in the madness of yesterday.” Only Tom, the poor kid often seemed to lacking in any form of common sense - even if those closest to him knew just how intellectual and passionate he could be about the right topic. Affectionately, Nelli scalded his idiocy by jokingly swatting his head with a little tut.

“I can’t believe your still standing then! I’m barely alive and I don’t have any sedatives in my system.” It was true, Y/n was at that stage where every part of her body felt ridiculously heavy… eyes included … eyes especially. 

“But I did sleep on the jet back while your stupid self was studying the script!” Tom replied with a pretty inarguable point - at the time he knew her actions were stupid;  when their flight took off at 11 PM he was certain that the most valuable asset to his ability to act in the reshoots today would be sleep - rather than character development. And he’d tried to convince Y/n that briefly, but gave up. She was bloody stubborn when she wanted to be. 

“Stop competing about who has it worse cos I think it’s me and Nell”Ellie announced - making Nelli agree empathically with her coworker, nodding her head as she looked first to Y/n in her chair then back at Tom.

“Yeh because we have to deal with your unusable faces!!”

After much sarcasm thrown back and fourth, the trailer slowly ebbed it’s way back into serenity and peace as both artists focused on their work. Once Nelli was done she excused herself, Tom staying in the chair in favour of studying (more like staring blankly) at the dialogue for this mornings scenes. His pretence didn’t last long though and while Ellie was busy adding the final touches of fake blood to the now almost completely believable gash that she’d crafted on Y/n’s arm - Y/n had her attention focused the opposite way.

At poor little Tom. He looked so childlike, his slightly puffy eyes looked as if they had weights tied to them - they way he was having fight against gravity to flutter his eyes open, before loosing the next second only for the process to repeat as they dragged downwards. The broad muscles of his neck occasionally seemed to occasionally let up a little, letting his head tilt slowly at first until it gathered enough momentum to throw him off balance. The then sudden movement of his head unconsciously pulling itself back in line caused his eyes to bolt open prior to the whole cycle repeating again. All Y/n wanted to do was let him lay down someone, her heart feeling a tug in her chest just seeing him like that. 

Ellie proclaimed her completion of the wound, leaning back to admire her work before looking to get an affirming nod from Y/n. Yet instead, she was too preoccupied gazing at the boy slouched across from them. “Someone seems a little distracted.” Ellie smirked, finally garnering Y/n’s attention, only feeling more and more smug watching a light tint appear on the actors cheeks. 

“I-well-no… we need to go.” Y/n ignored her words as though nothing had happened, instead rushing off the chair to get Tom out the chair and onto the awaiting set. They had places to be.

|||||||||||||||||||||||||||| (bcos im lazy)

Honestly when the director, Ed, called for lunch break, it was pretty apparent to be purely as a compassionate gesture to Y/n and Tom. Both of them had tried so hard this morning to fully commit, even so they’d both been almost completely useless. Y/n kept missing cues whilst all Tom’s actions and lines where slow, dragged out and at times completely prompted from someone behind the cameras. 

So when the lunch break was called there was only one thing on Y/n’s mind and what sandwich was available in the mess tent was not it. Still standing on the set next to her fake holdall bag she looked toward Tom, who was pulling himself up to standing from the train station bench - the pace of his movement making him look more like an old man. 

“You good?” His answer was predictable. 

“I’m so fucking shattered”

Tom swore he’d never heard anything sweeter come out of Y/n’s pink lips than her next statement.

“C’mon I know somewhere we can lie down.”

Without any sort of thought Tom blindly agreed, nodding as he took her outstretched hand in his. The gesture in itself brought a fresh wave of comfort to his aching limbs and as his feet stumbled to catchup with her slight head start he leant the majority of his weight into their connected hands. 

Neither would admit it but they were ‘a thing’… whatever the hell that meant. It was clear as day to everyone and anyone that worked closely to the two but neither of them had ever broached the topic with each other. They’d worked on a few films together over the years; each time they got closer and closer to the point any job without the other simply wasn’t as good. It was scary though, especially for two actors in the prime of their careers. If they weren’t working the same film they’d likely be the opposite side of the world to each other most of the time - quality time together would be few and far between, Really their jobs didn’t suit dating at all, yet it would be perhaps easier if one half of it worked a ‘normal’ job. Something with consistency, a regular structure. A level of dependability that neither Y/n nor Tom could offer to the other. 

So it was terrifying, acknowledging the growth in their magnetic attraction to each other. Both were acutely aware that doing that, confronting their feelings, would most likely signal the beginning of the end. 

Although none of this stoped Y/n from returning the gesture, tilting her shoulder into Tom’s left side as they took slow steps through and then out the set building. She steered the two past the hair and makeup trailer and round into a store and extra equipment trailer. Tom tilted his head as she climbed the stairs whilst beckoning for him to follow - it didn’t seem like the most obvious choice. Rolling her eyes, Y/n explained.

“It’s where all the blankets and coats and kept for the raining scenes plusssss no one will disturb us in here.” Again Tom was not in a position to disagree, eyes drooping as his shoulders sagged to the floor. Right now he’d take anything. 

So he climbed up the stairs and shut the door behind him, just as Y/n flipped the light on. She was right, it was well equipped and with an almost mountainous supply of red blankets that normally the crew and extra would all be wrapped up in after the freezing rain scenes with all the ‘waterfall machines’ as Y/n called them. However it was also um…. It was cosy. “Oh I don’t think I realised how small it was” She chuckled lightly, since now the door was closed her back was pressed up against the far wall of cabinets and still her front was mere millimetres from Tom.

“I…I don’t mind… if-if you don’t?”

“I’m too tired to care” She giggled in response, and Tom , now with her seal of approval, immediately started ransacking the piled shelves for all their worth creating a floor carpeted in the pale red of the blankets, in an attempt to make it more cosy. Joining in, it was almost remarkable how quickly their bodies suddenly agreed to move, with the new promise of rest mere moments away. 

Once the trailer was fully drowned, Tom kicked off his costume shoes and threw his jacket off - it haphazardly landing by the doorway. Y/n copied him, leaving her stood up whilst he had the advantaged of already settling down on the floor, her standing and looking down at him.

The space between the two opposing shelving units was not close spacious enough for two people to lie down whilst keeping a respectable level of personal space. Suddenly feeling a wave of awkwardness, Y/n stayed standing, wringing her hands slightly - whilst fairly certain Tom could hear her heart running at 100 mph. 

“You er… gonna stay there or?” Tom, contrary to popular belief, wasn’t a complete idiot - he could see she was suddenly self conscious. He got it too - they’d never crossed this boundary of choosing to cuddle into each other. It had happened once of twice accidentally over there 2 years of knowing each other. Both of those times it was completely accidental, falling asleep watching a movie with a safe distance of space b between the two, only to find hours later their bodies almost completely intwined. Tom would be lying if he said that his heart didnt skip a beat when he had awoken to Y/n’s soft and gently breath fanning into his neck. He’d loved it, but understood that was unconsciously breaking down part of the wall they’d both been the constructors of.

For fear of getting hurt. 

So now, as Y/n awkwardly bent down and lay on her side, he thought it was imperative to make her feel comfortable. Naturally then, his arm slid round her shoulders and pulled her down toward his chest, releasing a little breath as he felt her relax, her legs slowly wrapping round one of his. 

“This okay?” He murmured, now into the crown of her head as she lay half on her side half on his chest. In reply she nodded into him and Tom couldn’t help but grin- unbeknownst to him but Y/n was doing the exact same thing. 

The peace lasted all of 3 seconds until she groaned again.

“What?” Tom enquired as she wriggled out his hold and stood up. Instead of replying though she just leant over and flicked the one harsh light bulb off making Tom chuckle as she fumbled her way back onto the padded floor in the darkness, earning a few grunts from both as she accidentally kicked Tom’s thighs or banged her head on one of the now empty shelves. Fumbling her way back into a comfortable position, occasionally cursing when she stubbed her toe- or Tom did when she accidentally elbowed him in the ribs. 

“Comfy?” Tom asked a little sarkily as he squeezed her a little more into his side.

“Mhmmmm… I’m gonna sleep for 100 years”

“Yeh me… me too”

And with that they both almost instantly and in complete unison sagged into each other and the blankets - the pent up stress and tension of the past few days ebbing away.

What the pair had neglected to remember was that sleeping for 100 years wasn’t really an option. The whole crew of 50 people, who wanted to restart filming after 45 minutes, had not been told about Y/n’s little hiding place. The pair were so completely safe in their own little cocoon of comfort they were completely oblivious to their teams calling there names more and more frantically. Completely oblivious to the game of hide and seek the situation had descended into, completely oblivious to Harrys natural annoyance as the director asked him for the whereabouts of the two stars - as though Harry was childminder to the pair of them.

It was Nelli who found them first. She’d and Ellie and Tom’s manager had all been recruited by Harry as part of the man hunt. Both girls, having seen first hand the state of the two this morning, were fairly certain they’d both crashed out somewhere. So Nelli, already with a sneaking suspicion, opened the door gently, her figure blocking the majority of the light from seeping through to the dimly lit inside. The sight she was met with had her actually pouting at the cuteness - and yes its a cringey word but also the only one appropriate.

Between bedding down and barely an hour later the two had managed to become impossibly tighter pressed to each other. Y/n’s face was pressed into the crook of Tom’s neck and his arms seemed to have pulled her on-top of him almost completely. Her left leg was hooked under his right, which was then sandwiched by his left too. They both looked so pure and innocent and god did Nelli know they both needed any extra time they could get.

Nelli cared a lot about Tom, she’d been working with him from the beginning, from the child star days to now. She cared about him like her very annoying surrogate son and she wanted to see him looked after. She also so completely wanted the two stars to stop pining after each other. Because frankly it was getting a little frustrating for everyone else. 

So she chose to tactically forget about her discovery, sneaking a photo on the sly before silently pulling the door closed and leaving them to their sleep. 

#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland x famous!reader #tom holland x actress!reader #fluff

[raindownforme]

Writing Event

Hi! I was tagged by @jschllatt for a writing event, and this is for her!

———

5. Charlie slimecicle x reader [they/them used] (reader had freckles for context)

y/n stirred in their sleep, doing their best to shift with the almost unfamiliar weight. Almost, as if they didn’t know what it felt like to have someone else laying on top of them.

“Charlie?”

“No no no, go back to sleep.”

y/n peeked one eye open, looking at their boyfriend. Charlie was lazily propped up on one arm, the rest of his weight draped over y/n’s once sleeping self.

“Good morning I guess.” y/n tried to move, but found themself still stuck under Charlie. He had a leg wrapped between theirs and a hand holding the side of their face. “Can I get up yet?”

“No wait I’m counting.” Charlie’s voice was hushed, just above a whisper. y/n watched him squint as he focused on various points of their face.

“Maybe you’d be quicker if you put your glasses on.”

Charlie gasped, letting go of y/n’s face to reach over to the bedside table. He returned with his glasses resting on his nose, starting to fall off from the angle. “Okay. Now I have to start over.”

“Do we have to do this right now?” y/n yawned.

“Aw, you’re adorable. And yes I do.”

“Babe, I want to get up. Can you do this later? Some other time I’m asleep?”

“Fine I’ll stop counting.”

“Thank you.”

“Now it’s time to play connect-the-dots!” Charlie pulled y/n closer with his legs. He began to very gently drag his finger across the surface of y/n’s skin, following made-up patterns and lines.

y/n hummed lowly, feigning annoyance with their boyfriend. “Can you stop playing connect-the-dots with my freckles?”

Charlie drew back his touch. “Fine.” He rolled over, releasing y/n from his weight, and rolled over.

y/n propped themselves upright, frowning. “Don’t tell me you’re upset?”

Charlie mumbled a response and y/n leaned closer to try and hear him. He leaned closer a bit as well, repeating himself. “I wanted to see.”

“They aren’t even patterns, it’s just dots.”

“No, these ones-“ Charlie turned back and very gently put his thumb over the side of their face, right over where the cheek bones began and to the side of the outer corner of their eye. “It’s almost a triangle shape. Or a couple triangles. There a couple patterns, you just don’t see them.”

y/n paused, almost freezing under Charlie’s touch, then leaned into the contact. “Fine.”

“Fine?”

“Get back here and keep counting loser.”

y/n opened their arms, allowing Charlie to get back to his previous position in the shared bed and continue happily connecting the dots.

———

8. Charlie Slimecicle x reader [they/them]

y/n shivered. It was that kind of early morning cold. The being on a leather car seat while the wind whipped outside. The early morning chill of January.

y/n and Charlie knew this was coming. They’d known for two months know. Earlier, in the beginning of November when they planned the trip, neither one of them felt the sadness they feel now. They’d both been happy; y/n had the ability to come stay the whole month with Charlie. Usually, the couple could only see each other a few weeks out of the year. Usually it was Charlie with the looser schedule, and usually that made Charlie the one to drive or fly the distance between them.

y/n stared out the window lazily. There weren’t very many people out on the roads at this hour. They watched the grey industrial buildings pass as Charlie turned into the airport, going up to the third floor of the parking garage and finding an empty spot.

y/n quietly and slowly unbuckled themself from the car. They left the car, turning to see Charlie already holding their large suitcase. y/n smiled at him, small tears coming to their eyes. They reached out politely, trying to take it from him.

“No I want it.”

“It’s okay, it’s not even yours.”

“Let me. Please?”

y/n gave in with a smile, taking Charlie’s free hand in theirs as they let Charlie lead them into the airport. They made their way across the patterned carpet to the check-desk.

“Hi there.” There was a lone employee working the front desk. She extended a hand outwards. “Boarding pass and ID please?” y/n fished though their carry-on bag, bringing forth the paper and plastic card. The employee scanned it and looked over at their computer. “Alright, just you y/n?”

“Yes.” y/n knew it wasn’t meant to be cruel, but the words still dug at their skin and itched at their bones. Just them. No Charlie. They’d be alone. Again.

“Alright. That’ll be gate 36B. Unfortunately, sir, you can’t come to the gate.”

“What the farthest I can come?” Charlie glanced over to y/n.

“Just to TSA.”

“Is there any way?”

“I’m sorry I can only bend that rule if you’re accompanying a minor.”

Charlie nodded and the couple walked away. They walked towards the large LED bord that displayed the flight information. y/n watched Charlie scan it with squinted eyes.

“401 right? Flight 401? We’ve got— shit.” Charlie frowned. “40 minutes. We move gotta get you through security.”

“We?”

Charlie looked back to y/n. They had tears brimming their eyes and were fiddling with a loose string on the sleeve of their sweater. They were still wearing Charlie’s sweater.

“I guess I can’t take you any further.”

“I know that.”

“You don’t have to get mad at me.” Charlie frowned at y/n. He set their bag to the side and gently took the carry-on from their shoulders, placing it near the bag. Charlie pulled them closer, wrapping his body around them and leaning his head against the top of theirs. “I’ll see you again.”

“But when?” y/n did their best to not cry, but it seemed impossible in this moment. They were tired. They were cold. And they had to leave the person they cared for more than anything within the next ten minutes.

“I don’t know. Valentine’s Day? I can try and drive over in maybe April?”

“But that’s such a long drive. God why can’t this be fucking easier?” y/n groaned against Charlie’s shoulder, grasping onto his shirt tighter with their fists. “It took me so long to save for this and I don’t know— I don’t know anything.”

“Then move in with me.”

“What?” y/n looked at Charlie with a strange smile. It wasn’t the first time Charlie had suggested the idea, but they’d only been dating for a few months the last time it was mentioned. Now they were a year and 6 months deep and it was the first it had been mentioned in a while.

“Or I’ll move in with you. We wouldn’t have to be separated, and I could work virtually anywhere.”

“We don’t have— I don’t have room at my place for a streaming set up.”

“We can get an all new place. Just us. We can go look around when I’m down there.”

y/n thought for a moment. “Alright. You better hurry then.”

“Of course.”

The two stood in silence for a minute, still hugging. y/n glanced over at the clock that hung near the LED display. “I gotta go. I still gotta get through security.”

“No. Wait, don’t pull away… not yet.” Charlie pressed y/n even closer, leaving light kisses on the top of their head and the side of their face. “I love you. Please text me when you land. Like seriously.”

“I will I will. I love you too.”

“Okay.” Charlie let y/n go. He handed them all their stuff and stepped back, taking them in before not seeing them for the next few weeks. “How many other sweater did you steal?”

“Only two more, but I think I deserve them.”

“Alright.” Charlie laughed a bit. “Go get on your flight.”

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

Charlie watched silently as y/n made their way through security. It took them almost five minutes, but once on the other side, they sent a sad wave to Charlie and walked off to the gates. Charlie waited a moment, hesitating, then made the walk to his car alone. He crossed the airport street alone. He walked in the parking garage alone. And he got in his car and drove home. Alone.

———

12. Canon! Charlie slimecicle x reader [they/them used]

Las Nevadas was on fire. The water feature had died out hours ago. The casino was crumbling to stone. The tower had been cut in half. The strip club had been shattered. The restaurant had been torn apart. The roads were destroyed. The toll bridge had collapsed.

But they won, right?

Quackity stood alone. He watched his allies from a short distance. Foolish supported Purpled’s weight as he leaned against the god with a broken leg. Fundy rested against a wall, panting and covered in blood that didn’t belong to himself. Sam was no where to be seen, but they knew he was still alive.

But Slime? He was running. He was running in a large circle, searching through rubble and ash as he shouted.

“y/n?” Y/N?” He leaned on his hands and knees in the sand. His suit had been ruined for a long time now. The seams of his button up shirt had begun to rip in battle, the bottom of his pant legs had been singed and torn and blackened by the battle, and he wore only one suspender now, the other one much too weak and quite easily forgotten. He did not wear his tie, however he knew who was wearing it. “y/n?”

“Quackity,” Fundy looked upwards to his ally. “We can’t let him.”

Quackity ran a shaky, blood-stained hand down the front of his own suit in a nervous manner. “He has to find out somehow. Do you want to tell him?”

Fundy didn’t say anything, instead watching his friend run around. “Y/N!”

“This is cruel.” Foolish whispered to Purpled. The young boy could only nod in agreement, just a little too weak to do much else. Foolish, realizing this, helped the teen move over to sit next to Fundy, resting him against the crumbling wall of the fountain. Foolish turned around with the intent to aid Slime in his search, but was stopped by a simple hand placed upon his shoulder.

Quackity stood to the left of Foolish. He could see Quackity do his best to hold in the tears that had already left small tracks through the dust that had settled over Quackity’s face. “Just— let him. I can’t tell him. I can’t.”

The group watched Slime dig by hand. The rouble almost phased through his skin, but he kept digging. When he got too frustrated by one building, he ran to the next one, repeating the process. They watched on in pain for only a minute longer. Fundy looked to Foolish and Quackity. “Do we know where-?”

“Y/N.” Slime screamed in utter joy, pulling out y/n from the rubble. He proudly carried them back over to where Quackity and the rest of the group sat, gently setting them down on the ruined pavement. He kneeled with them, resting their head in his lap. Slime very gently carded his fingers through their hair, seeming to think to himself. He reached deep into the pocket of his pants, pulling out a neon pink healing potion.

Foolish shrugged off Quackity’s grasp and walked over to where Slime sat. He kneeled down next to the green guy, placing a hand on his shoulder to try and pull him away. “Slime, buddy—“

“Let me go.” Slime’s voice was gentle and somehow mature. He spoke sadly, but also as though he understood what was happening still. “I can still save them. I know I can.”

Foolish glanced back to the group to watch Quackity shake his head solemnly. “Buddy, I know it’s hard-“

“No, I promised.” Slime’s voice began to shake. He desperately poured the potion over the parts of y/n’s body where damage was obvious; bruises from the crushing rubble, burns from the fires and explosions, and the gaping cauterized sword wound to their abdomen. Slime smiled as he gazed at their peaceful face. It almost looked like they were sleeping. “I promised them.”

“Promised what buddy?”

“I told them everyone turns to dust and goes away, but I promised them I wouldn’t let it happen. I’ve seen it happen. I watched it. And I wouldn’t let them turn to dust.” Slime leaned down, pressing a light kiss to y/n’s forehead. He stayed close, whispering to the corpse in his lap. “Im so sorry.”

Foolish placed a hand on Slime’s shoulder again, trying to pull him away. “Buddy-“

“No!” He pushed Foolish away, leaning closer to y/n and holding them in a protective embrace. Slime gently laid a hand on y/n wrist, feeling the material of his neck tie in a knot around it. “I can still help them, please just let me— let me save them. Please.”

The group sat in silence. Slime’s shoulders shook as he sobbed over y/n’s body. Fundy and Quackity wiped away a few tears as well, listening to their friend wail into the night.

———

14. Charlie slimecicle x reader [they/them]

“Listen, man, hurry up. We were supposed to leave twenty minutes ago.” Schlatt leaned back into the plush leather seat, resting a hand over his eyes.

Charlie sighed, looking over the stuff he’d piled on the couch. He huffed, looking around. “Okay. I’ve got my phone, charger, wallet, jacket, I’m dressed, teeth brushed, what the fuck am I forgetting?”

“Uh, buddy.” Ted cleared his throat and tapped at the side of his face. Charlie paused for a moment, squinting before realizing what he missed.

“My glasses! My goddamn glasses. Alright gimme a minute.”

The two boys watched Charlie walk back down the hall of Ted’s apartment. Schlatt groaned and lazily stood up from his seat. He walked over to the small pile of Charlie’s stuff and began sorting through.

“What are you doing?”

“If I can find these faster, maybe we can actually get out of here.” Schlatt stuck his hands into the pockets of Charlie’s jacket. “Hate this fucking smog— oh.”

“Oh?” Ted sat up slightly, watching Schlatt pull a small black velvet box out. “Oh. Oh! Holy fuck.”

“Did he talk to you about this?” Schlatt dropped the volume of his voice, trying to not alert Charlie.

“No not at all. Is it for y/n?”

“I guess.” Ted and Schlatt had never met y/n in person before, only talking when they would be nearby if Charlie was in a discord call. But the two knew that Charlie loved them dearly, he talked about them whenever he got the chance. He boasted about anything y/n did, anywhere they went, any thing he could say.

“Do we— do we give him advice? Do we say anything?”

“Do you have advice to give someone who’s about to propose?”

Schlatt bit the inside of his lip. Instead of responding to Ted, he opened the box and his eyes went wide. “Holy shit dude.”

“What?” Ted got up and walked over to Schlatt’s side. The ring Charlie had gotten was beautiful; a silver band with ornate vines that held very small diamonds, all encasing a round amber gem. Ted very gently took the box from Schlatt, rotating it back and forth to see how the light glimmered on the gemstones.

“Ted this is… where’d he even get that?”

“I don’t know.” Ted stared into the ring. “We shouldn’t be hanging this. We should put it back.”

“Why do I want to wear it?”

“Why do you?”

Schlatt took the box from Ted, staring at it for a moment, then put it back in the coat pocket. He shuffled the jacket around, trying to make the setting look natural. “Now wha—“

“Okay I found it.” Charlie ran out of the room, rubbing at the glass with his shirt material. “What are we standing about?”

“Nothing.” Ted turned to Charlie quickly, awkwardly smiling. “Ready?”

The three boys made their way from Ted’s home to his car, then out onto the streets of Hollywood, headed towards Santa Monica. It was only a half-hour drive, and no one had too much to say.

“So. Charles.” Ted glanced at his friend in the backseat through the rear view mirror. “How are you and y/n doing?”

Schlatt made a pointed look at Ted as Charlie began talking. “We’re great! They got this really big job and we’re going to celebrate when I get back. There’s this restaurant downtown that’s so pretty— it’s their favorite! I mean, it was going to be a surprise, but hopefully it all goes well.”

Schlatt, thought for a moment, catching on to what Ted was thinking. “Is there something that needs to go well? It’s just dinner isn’t it?”

“Actually, can I tell you both about something?”

“Yes.” They both answered in unison, turning to look at Charlie as they stopped at the red light.

“Well, I wanted to, at dinner, I mean we weren’t doing dinner until I get back home, but I have this.” Both boys held their breath as Charlie went fishing in his jacket pockets. It took him a few minutes to procure the small black box, but eventually his found it and held it forwards, showing it off to his friends.

“Wow. Proposing?” Schlatt laid surprise thick into his voice, and thankfully Charlie didn’t notice.

“Yeah! I picked it out myself. Here look.” Charlie opened up the box, showing off the gems that sparkled in the sunlight. Schlatt glanced up at Ted who stared forwards at the 10 freeway.

“That’s really cool, thanks for telling us.”

Charlie frowned. “Is it not as good idea? You don’t sound that excited.”

“No it’s a great idea! I mean obviously we don’t know y/n as well.” Schlatt gestured to himself and Ted. “But it’s obvious you love them. I mean look at you, buying a ring and everything. Making dinner plans, Charlie this is amazing.”

“Also Schlatt found the ring earlier.”

Schlatt smacked Ted on the arm, sending him a glare. “So you guys knew?” Charlie smacked the box shut.

“Not on purpose. I was trying to find your glasses and I just happened across it. You didn’t hide it very well.”

“I—“

Ted laid on the horn, repeatedly honking at the Tesla that had cut him off. “Son of a mother fucker.”

“Starting to hate LA?”

Ted peered over at Schallt with a glare, then went back to driving. “We are happy for you Charlie, we were just kind of waiting for you to mention it to us.”

“Yeah, and we want to meet y/n! It’s been two years now?”

“Of course you can.” Charlie scratched at the back of his neck. “I’m just scared? I don’t know. I mean, I’ve never felt so strongly about anyone before. I’m terrified.”

“Hey, you’ll be okay. It’s y/n. You fly home tomorrow right?” Charlie nodded. “Let us know how it goes man. I’m invested now.”

Charlie laughed. “Alright. Tomorrow.”

Tomorrow, Charlie took the 7 hour flight home. In that same day, Ted and Schlatt each received a picture of y/n wearing the engagement ring around their finger, both them and Charlie smiling wide.

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Congrats Nat on getting 1k!

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[ellana-ravenwood]

“It’s Alfred dayyyy” - Batfam x Fem!Reader

Synopsis : Every year, every single year, your family reunites to celebrate the marvel that Alfred Pennyworth is.

Because Alfred does deserve his own “holiday” really. This has been sitting in my draft for almost two years, someone send me an ask that reminded me of it and I just suddenly really wanted to write it. I hope you’ll like it : 

my master list : @ella-ravenwood-archives

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Midnight, a new day :

“And we will be waiting for you at 8 am, your mom and I forced him to sleep in, but we all know he will be awake by that time anyway.”

“Ok, I’ll pick Jaybird on my way there.” 

“Jason is coming ?” 

“He said he would.”

“Oh. Good.” 

Dick did his hardest not to roll his eyes. “Oh. Good.” he says, as if the news didn’t make him wanna jump in joy. But of course, the Batman has a reputation to keep, if he showed too much emotions in one sitting, he’d probably explode. 

The truth was that if Jason was coming...Well if Jason was coming, it meant they were finally on the road to forgiveness. And Dick knew that Bruce had been waiting a long time for this. Bruce...and everyone else really. 

Especially you and Alfred. 

“In any case, be there by 8. We’ll do the usual. Now that I think of it, could you maybe pick up his cake at West Side’s bakery ? Your mother was going to do it, but if you pick up Jason...I think he lives in the area ?” 

Of course, Bruce knew exactly that Jason indeed lived not far from Alfred’s favorite bakery. Because he was keeping an eye on him. Not out of mistrust, or thinking he would kill again (he promised his mom, you, he would stop, but the promise was still recent, so was his return), but because...Well, it was his boy. 

Ever since Bruce adopted Dick, he never stopped worrying about his kids. He never stopped trying to keep an eye on them. It got even worst after Jason’s death...He was actually overbearing many times, which lead Dick away more than once. 

But he’d always be back. 

Just like Jason, eventually, would be fully back. 

For the moment, it was enough that he’d come by tomorrow. 

For tomorrow was the one and only...”Alfred day”. 

“Yeah sure, we can pick the cake up.” 

“Alright. Well. I’m going home, and you lot should too. We promised Alfred, after all. An entire day without any vigilante’s business. Unless there’s an emergency of course. Good night.” 

“’Night dad.” 

Bruce turns to his youngest kids, expecting them to follow him, but Damian says : 

“We’re right behind you, we’re just gonna hang out with Grayson a little more. Since he moved to Blüdhaven, we almost never see him...”

“Guiltripping me will not work little brother.” 

“Are you sure ?” 

Silence. And then Dick turns to his father : 

“I’ll get them home soon, we’re gonna go get some ice cream.” 

Bruce smiles, of this small genuine smile he only has when around his children. He nods, tell them not to stay out too late, and leaves, on his way back to you. 

12:30 pm, Batcave.

“You are late, Master Bruce.”

“Only by half an hour. I had to see Dick before coming back. Logistic talk.” 

As he speaks, Bruce takes his armor off, stretching a little after this short night full of not much happening. As if every villain in Gotham knew this day was happening, and they too would give a break to the butler (because if Bruce was resting, then Alfred could rest too). 

“Well it means you’ll have to start half an hour late tomorrow, this is the deal. Where are the children ?” 

“Alright. I will. And they’re getting ice cream with Dick. Now please, go to bed before she catches you up.” 

“Lady (Y/N) will understand that I was making sure you are home on time.” 

“She does understand yes, and she’s also telling you to go rest this instant ! You have slept even less than Bruce this past few days for god’s sake !” 

Both Bruce and Alfred jumps a bit as you enter the bat cave, smiling at them. Alfred raises his hands in a sign of peace, smiles at you, gives you a kiss goodnight on your forehead (a nightly tradition, by now...you never had a dad, and Alfred took it upon him to catch up lost time), and leaves. 

You turn to Bruce, and gives him your hand. 

He takes it gladly, a smile on his lips. The kind he only shows when around those he loves... 

A “glad you’re here” kiss, and a few words : 

“You know, my favorite thing about this day is that you’re home all day long, and I don’t have to miss you...” 

As usual, your words grip his heart, and his arms tighten around you. Even after years of being together, you could always make his pulse race with only a few words. Sometimes just a look...

He doesn’t resist or look back, when you give his hand a pull and leave the bat cave. 

Rare were the occasions Bruce would forget about his vigilante work. In fact, only one day a year, would he completely forget about it. Because he promised. And because it was a special day. 

A day to celebrate the man he came to view as his father. 

Alfred day. 

1 am, in “Giovanni’s 24/7 gelato” shop. 

The waiter of the place didn't even blink, as he served ice creams to a bunch of kids at 1 am, in the heart of Gotham. Used to it really. Nothing in this city was like any other place. Most people were night dwellers, even children.

Probably because, thanks to a certain group of vigilante, they all felt safer when the sun was down. 

“So, how did it start exactly, this Alfred day ?” 

Duke asks, after taking a full scoop of his favorite ice cream, curtesy of a certain Dick grayson. 

You had told Duke, about a week prior to it, that he had to clear his schedule for this particular day but didn’t really explain what it was exactly. Just that it was to celebrate Alfred. Not giving much more context. 

Dick smiles, and say : 

“How did it start ? Haha, oh man, it’s quite the story.” 

With an annoyed sigh, Damian says : 

“Just out with it already Grayson, we know, you were the only one that knew them by then blahblahblah.” 

“Do I sense a hint of jealousy, little bird ?” 

Damian doesn’t answer, but plants his spoon a little bit more aggressively in his gelato. Ah yes, maybe he was a tiny bit jealous that Dick had the luck to have their parents all for himself, once upon a time...Maybe. 

“Well anyway, legend has it that mom chose the date.”

Dick takes a dramatic pause, making the siblings who already heard the story (so everyone but Duke) roll their eyes. Their oldest brother had a flair for dramatic retelling of past events. 

“A long long time ago, on this day, when I was only 8 and just came into the family, they got into a bad fight. When I was little, before Jason came in, they got on the verge of breaking up a few times. Even did really broke up once, worst fucking time of my life, feeling like I was losing another family (A/N : referencing this story : The break-up)...”

A shot pause, this time, not for dramatics, but because the memory was genuinely painful and Dick had to take a short break. He continues : 

“So anyway, on this day, a long time ago, Mom discovered how vital Alfred was to this family. She said it’d been a day where she wanted to literally kill our father because he was so damn annoying, and overly brooding, and stupid – her words not mine- and that Alfred calmed her in just a few words. I don’t quite know what he told her, or what he told dad. All I know is that he told me that he wouldn’t let them break-up again over a stupid fight, and um, next thing I know, I’m avoiding the East wing for a few hours.” 

“Oh...Oh no Dick gross !” 

Dick chuckles, enjoying a bit too much messing with his little siblings. 

“Anyway, mom decided that Alfred deserved a day, in the year, where we would do everything HE wants because without him, our family would crumble. It just sort of became a tradition. So from midnight right now, to midnight of next day, no vigilante business. And we spend the day all together with him.” 

“That’s actually...a really sweet story ?” 

“It really is Dukie, it really is.”

“Dukie ?”

“Ah sorry, you’re part of the family now, which earns you a nickname from me. Jaybird. Timbo. Dami. Cass or Cassie if I feel like being a particularly doting older brother. So...had to find one for you. It was between Dukie and Dukester so-”

“Dukie is fine.”

Everyone snickers as Duke rolls his eyes, and then he asks : 

“So...What exactly are we gonna do ?” 

“Oh, well it’s simple. It starts at 8 am when we arrive, and we kick off with...”

4 am, Alfred’s bedroom. 

You open the door to Alfred’s room quietly, as you would sometimes to make sure your children sleep. 

This time, you were checking to see if the butler did really go to bed. One of the point of Alfred day, was that he had to feel perfectly fine, and he never had a full night rest ! 

So if you had to make sure he did during that time, then you would. 

Your children had came home a few hours ago, happy they had some time with their oldest brother. Dick had been away often lately, and they missed him...You knew they were gonna guilt trip him into buying them a snack. 

You and Bruce had had some alone time before they came home, that you definitely took advantage of...But for now, you escaped your husbands grip to come and check on Alfred, making sure he was sound asleep. 

And he was. Good. Perfect. He’d have a good night sleep. A full night of sleep. 

Quietly, you left the room again, unaware that a smile slowly rose on the Butler’s face... 

8:02 am, Alfred Day : 

Bruce is the one that opens the front door for them. They have their own keys, of course...but they both forgot them, as usual. 

They’d normally just climb through a window, or sneak into the backyard, knowing where all the security devices were (the back door was never closed because of this), but decided that for this day, they’d just ring the bell and come in the right way. 

Without much surprise, Bruce answers the door. It’d either be him or you, during Alfred’s day. Or anyone that wasn’t Alfred really. 

Dick and Jason move to remove their shoes (house rules, NO SHOES inside) and coats, while Bruce looks at them, waiting for them so they can all walk back to the kitchen. 

Jason is the fastest, and there’s this embarrassed silence between the three of them. Bruce smiles awkwardly at Jason, who looks away as soon as their eyes meet. With a “tt” very typical of his little brother, Jason says : 

“Don’t misunderstand this, I’m here for Alfred. And...For mom.”

“I know.” 

“Good.” 

“Yes.”

Silence. Awkward, as Dick takes way too long to untie his shoes, and pretend he’s not hearing anything.

Bruce knows what he’s doing. He knows his oldest son is trying to give him some more time “alone” with Jason. But he’s not really sure what to say...

“I’m um...I’m glad you came.” 

Good. That was good. Keep going on that path Bruce, that’s actually-

“Yeah, whatever. I’m going ahead, you know the way Dick.” 

Damn. Almost there. Almost there with an actual moment between them two. Dick sighs, and puts a hand on his father’s shoulder. 

“He’ll come around.” 

Bruce doesn’t answer, he exhales slowly and nods, not very convinced...But today was not a day to dwell on the bad. Jason and him would make this work, if only for today. 

Because today was Alfred’s day.

8h30 am, the Kitchen. 

The butler came down in the kitchen, well rested and pleased to be greeted by his entire family. Your smiles already made his day perfect, and if “Alfred Day” was done in this instant, he’d still be happy. 

“Sit down Pennyworth, we have made breakfast for you ! Well...Mom and father did...but we helped ! I was in charge of making tea ! And I think you will appreciate the way I brewed it. I followed an ancient Japanese recipe, and I reckon an aficionado like yourself will appreciate it.” 

Damian bloomed when he was with his family. To people who didn’t know him as well as his siblings and parents, he could seem like a petulant and arrogant child, but he was the opposite of that. 

He was insecure, and unsure. Scared of being left alone. And so to overcompensate all the fear instilled in him by years of abuse from his “grandfather”, the infamous Ras Al’Ghul, Damian could be quite a little jerk sometimes. 

But when he was with his family...He opened up. He smiled. And he spend hours trying to brew the perfect cup of tea for the grandfather he actually chose to have. 

“Bruce made your favorite Alf’, didn’t do half a bad job either -you smile at your husband, and give him a quick peck, which have the famous result of making your children make their best “ew” face-. You taught him well.” 

You say, smiling widely at the butler.

It’s true, Alfred did teach Bruce how to cook really well. People often had the misconception the billionaire was bad at housework, which was wrong of course. 

When his parents were alive, they’d insist he still had chores to do, so he wouldn’t be too spoiled. And when Alfred raised him, he taught him as much as he could so that the boy could hold his own. 

Bruce was a great cook (you could definitely attest to that, what with him cooking your favorite meals on date nights and all). And he always made Alfred’s perfect breakfast for his special day. 

“Jason and I just arrived so we didn’t really participate, but we picked up your favorite cake so it counts right ?” 

Dick says, a wide smile on his face. Oh master Dick, Alfred blessed the day this little boy walked in their lives. 

He wasn’t so little anymore, but he was always such a joy to have over. Even when he had his tantrum as a youngster (and now sometimes too, although he became better in controlling his burst of anger), Alfred couldn't help but love that child. 

The butler turned to Jason, who shyly smiled at him and...Alfred’s heart was full. 

“I am very happy to see you in this house, Master Jason.” 

He said, as he sits around the kitchen table. Jason’s cheek tints slightly of red, as they always do when he’s a bit embarrassed and overwhelmed. 

Jason was such a kind and sensitive child. He never quite got used to compliments, having been used to abuse and hate, and he would always blush under them. Alfred was glad to see that, even after the horror Jason went through, small things could still make his cheek turn rosy...

Jason sat down at the table, looking happier than he had in ages. 

“For you.” 

Cassandra said, settling in front of him a plate full of food, while Damian put the the cup of tea down. 

Sweet little Cassandra. It was always a pleasure to hear her talk. Poor little thing was never taught love, or even how to talk...Having you in her life greatly helped. Having a family, greatly helped. 

She still didn’t talk very often, but when she did, all of her words truly counted. She laid a small kiss on Alfred’s forehead, to bid him good morning, and went to sit in her usual spot, right between you and Damian. 

“You will be happy to know, Alfred, that all of our electronic devices have been off since midnight last night ! Yes, even mine. Promise !” 

Tim exclaims, smiling at him. 

Tim was the only one out of all of Bruce’s children to have entered this life willingly. The only one that came knocking at their door, just really wanting to help. 

Unfortunately, him too lost his parents over time (although they weren’t particularly great ones)...But the first impulse the boy had, was that he just loved Batman and wanted to give a hand ! 

Tim was selfless, maybe a little too much, and often worried you to death. He would get wrapped up in his projects even more than his father, and needed a constant reminder to take care of himself...task that you, Bruce, Alfred and his siblings would share gladly. He would give back anyway, working his ass off and putting his own life on the line for them any hour of the day... 

At the furthest side of the table from him, sat Duke. 

This was his first “Alfred Day”, and he was looking at things curiously, nonetheless happy to be here. 

Young Duke’s situation was a little special. His parents were still alive, and he still hoped they’d find a cure for their madness. Because of this, the boy would often distance himself on purpose from some family events, finding it hard to find his own place. 

This was one reason he didn’t wear the Robin mantel for long, and almost immediately went to be The Signal. It didn’t help either, that he was the only metahuman. 

And yet...Yet as the days went by, Duke felt more and more at home at the Manor, and would more and more hang out with everyone. More and more felt like he was truly part of the family, now. 

Of course, him moving to Wayne Manor was all very recent, and he needed time. Time that everyone was giving him willingly and gladly. Time to adjust and find his place. 

But here, sitting around the kitchen table bustling with activity and laughter, Duke felt like...he felt like this Alfred Day brought him one step closer to truly be a part of it all. After all, to him too, the butler had been nothing but great. 

Alfred had that talent, to congregate everyone around him... 

You felt happy, there, sitting amongst your children, your love, and the man you came to consider your father. 

Alfred had a good feeling, when he first met you. He knew. He knew you’d be the one to “tame” the bat, to not take his shit when he was being a jerk, and to give him unconditional love. 

“Unconditional”. 

It was important, to be in a relationship with a man like Bruce Wayne. 

But oh. Oh he was giving you back every bits of love you ever gave him, times a hundred. He let you in in his world, and had no intention of ever letting you go. 

Breakfast went by fast, as everyone talked away, and enjoyed each others company. 

It was very rare, nowadays, that everyone could be in the same place. At least one of them would be busy normally. But on this day...on this day they surely made sure they would be free. 

And so here they were, having breakfast altogether, happy. 

If only people from the outside could see this scene; If only. 

Then they’d know, just like Alfred knew, that this family was the strongest, tightest that ever existed, and that there was nothing but love between all of them. 

************

11 am, the theater.

Before the first “Alfred Day” happened, Wayne Manor did not have a “theater”. 

It had a “Ballroom number 3″. 

It was your idea, to turn it into a small theater, so that Alfred could perform for everyone. 

Over the years, you had realized that Alfred was actually a very talented actor. After all, he filled in Batman’s shoes many times, to pretend that Bruce couldn’t possibly be him. And he might’ve use his dramatic talent to convince you and the rest of your family to do what he wanted you to do...

Clever man. 

On Alfred Day, the first activity, after breakfast, would be to take part in a monologue of his. Usually shakespearian. But sometimes he’d come up with small surprises. He once recited the “heaven” part of the Divine Comedy by Dante, because he knew you loved that poem. 

It was absolutely brilliant, and you almost wished he had pursued an acting career instead of becoming the Wayne’s butler...but then, you would’ve never met him. 

By 11 am, breakfast would usually be done and it was time for a performance of a year. By that time, Barbara and Stephanie would’ve join. 

They didn’t live in the Manor, but they were close friend of the family. Friends that definitely knew how precious Alfred was to everyone. 

This year, Alfred decided to entertain you with a series of short monologues taken from a wide array of material, from Shakespeare to movies. It was fascinating. They all had their snacks as if they were at the movie theater, and were captivated by his performance. 

For Alfred, it was a way to relive his youth, working in London’s east end’s theaters. And to perform his hobby in front of a live audience. 

So sure, maybe said live audience might’ve been a bit biased towards him, but he knew their applause and praises were genuine. 

************

1 pm, East Wing living room. 

Lunch was always skipped, as you snacked too much during Alfred’s performance, and he was never hungry after he acted. 

You’d directly skipped to Alfred’s compliment session. 

He both loved and hated this time. Loved it because it was a treat to see he positively impacted his family. Hated it because it was never comfortable to just hear people compliment you The moment they gave him a cherished memory they shared with him...

Each year, one by one, they would tell him something he did for them that really was important to them. 

It was custom that the youngest would start. So Damian stood up, and said : 

“My memory this year, is one that happened not long after I came to live in Wayne Manor. I had just gotten into a fight with Tim, and been mean to mom as she tried to talk to me about it...I felt terrible. I felt like I would never be someone good. Pennyworth came in my room, ignoring me when I told him to get away from me. He settled some cookies for me, and told me a story of my father when he was young. Of how stubborn he used to be, and how sometimes, he’d say very hurtful things he didn’t mean...Alfred explained to me that it was normal to feel angry, when we’re hurt. That it was ok to not always be on our best behavior. That the people who love us will understand, and do understand. That they’ll still be there if they really care. Then he left, and I went to apologize to my mom. And she was there. I also apologized to Tim, and him too, was there...”

Damian sat back down, avoiding everyone’s eyes, as he felt too overwhelmed with feelings. You threw an arm around his shoulder, and he instantly hid his face in your own shoulder, acting like a little scared kitten who’d hide under his mom. 

It melted everyone’s heart, but nobody would say anything of course. This was between Damian and Alfred. 

It was Duke’s turn, and he was a little nervous, as it was his first time : 

“Mine is...Well...It’s going to sound so silly, after Damian’s heartfelt story, but one of my best memory with you Alfred, is when I first put The Signal mantel, and immediately hurt myself that night. I came back to the bat cave early, feeling shameful I couldn’t finish my patrol. You took care of my wound, and simply reassured me. It was just...soothing. I didn’t feel bad, as you stitched me up and calmed me down. I felt at peace, for the first time since my parents went mad...I can’t quite remember what you told me, as you just talked about random things, to calm me down. And it worked. As silly as it can sound, it worked. And that’s um...That’s when I started to feel good, here. Ok. That’s all.” 

Duke sat back down too, hoping Tim would start speaking soon. Thankfully, he did. 

“The memory I chose to share today, is one that is rather recent. I was struggling with some...self-worth issues. I felt like I could never fill dad’s shoes. Or Dick’s. Or Jason’s. Or anyone’s. I felt like I was trash. Like I was wasting away. I felt anxiety eating me up, and I was too scared to talk to anyone about it. Even to you, mom. I knew you’d find the right words, but I was just too scared you’d be worried about me. I know you worry a lot. So I didn’t say anything. Alfred walked in on me having a panic attack...and he helped me fight it. Then he scolded me because I didn’t tell anyone anything, and that it was a bad habit to always take all the burden on my shoulders. He then brewed me some tea, and talked about my favorite TV show with me to take my mind off of things...” 

Tim smiled at Alfred, and sat down. You reached for him, and squeezed his hand, making him understand you too, were there. And you worried about all of them all the time anyway so, ya know.

It was Cass’ turn now. Cass always had some interactive things, because she never spoke too long. She held up some drawings she had made (with the help of Damian). It represented her at a ballet recital (to which you all went by the way, and which was amazing. Cass was a talented little star). She gave the small comics to Alfred, took a deep breath, and said : 

“Thank you for helping me work on my dance, even when you were busy. You are a good teacher. For everything, from dance to how to make a perfect loaf of bread. I love your bread. I love your dance lesson. I love eating bread after our lessons. I love you more than bread. Even the sandwiches mom make with your bread and my favorite homemade jam.” 

She then did a few ballet dance move, and sat down again, holding her knees with her arms, and breathing deeply. It was still a difficult exercice for her, to speak. And to convey her feelings through words. It was always difficult, and quite an exploit that she said that much. 

Alfred smiled at her, before turning to Jason. 

“I’ll never forget the day you yelled at Bruce because he tied me up after I stole the batmobile’s tires. How livid you were, and how you threatened him to tell everything to mom. How he instantly looked scared at the idea of her being angry, and how you made him realize he went too far. How you were there, every step of my way adapting to life in a mansion, after living in the streets. But yes, above all, I’ll never forget the day someone stood for me for the first time, when you yelled at da-Bruce. When you yelled at Bruce for me.” 

He almost said “dad”. And that alone, was making Alfred’s heart happy. It was proof there still was some hope to salvage their relationship... 

“Ok, well I’ll be quicker than everyone else. And just say : you’re the best grandfather I could ever ask for.” 

With Dick, there was only two solutions. He would either go into a lengthy reenactment of a very specific event, or throw affirmations like that that would make Alfred feel tears coming to his eyes. 

Today, Dick decided on a short and sweet version, and it fitted perfectly. 

It was now your turn : 

“Every year, I’m reminded how vital you are to this family. And every year, it is tough to chose just one memory I love about you. I always have to think, because there’s so many. But I think this year, I will choose that time I said “yes” to Bruce after refusing his marriage proposal three times, and you screamed in happiness, through your broom across the room, and ran to hug me. It was so out of character for you, it makes me happy just to think about it. But I mean, I can understand the excitement...I was pretty content myself.” 

You smile, looking at your love, and he rolls his eyes at you, before smiling too. Of this pure smile he only shows you. And then he turns to Alfred, and tells him : 

“You made the loss of my parents bearable. Without you, I don’t know what I would’ve done. I’d probably turn...very dark.”

There was a small silence. 

Bruce’s speech was always short and to the point. 

And every time they were all done talking, Alfred would find himself with tears in his eyes. With those last few words from his son, this time didn’t escape the rule, and he found himself dabbing at the corner of his eyes. 

Damian’s next word released the emotional atmosphere as he looked at his father and said : 

“Tt, show off.” 

Everyone bursted in laughter, and this great day continued on... 

************

4 pm, interlude. 

This was Alfred’s few hours of utter peace. Everyone would leave him alone, and he could relax doing something he liked to do (usually reading or something of the sort) while not worrying about anyone. 

You’d give him space. It was very rare, for Alfred to be all alone with his thoughts, thoughts that he was forced to NOT have about his family. 

It was even rarer that he wouldn’t think about Bruce or you, or his “grandkids”. So in this day, when he knew none of them were doing anything dangerous, he took full advantage of it to relax his mind. 

In the meantime, you’d watch a film or two. 

Damian and Tim were in the process of choosing when Duke turned to Bruce, and a smirk on his face asked : 

“Soooo…I heard Alfred Day exists because you annoyed (Y/N) ? »

Bruce glares at Duke, ah he never quite likes to remember why Alfred Day exists…But before he can answer, you enter the room (you went to get some snacks for the movies) and exclaim :

“Don’t let Dick downplay how truly unsufferable he was that day ! Dick always manages to forgive his dad, and make things less worst than they are. It’s a talent really. Annoying doesn’t even cover how awful he was. He had one of those « dark days », decided he should break up with me for my own safety out of literally nowhere, yelled at baby Dick, was mean to Alfred saying he could fire him…I swear I could’ve slapped him.”

“You tried.”

“And if Alfred hadn’t stopped me, I would’ve succeeded. Anyway. Yes. You see, Bruce and I almost broke up that day because he was being really stupid, and Alfred...salvaged everything.”

“I was being stupid indeed...I almost lost...I...”

Sometimes, when he would remind himself of that day he almost went too far and truly drove you away, Bruce would feel almost like an anxiety attack coming over him. Because if he had lost you, and had continue on the path he was taking with Dick...Well he wouldn’t have had that second shot at having a family.

And it was enough of a frightening thought to be overwhelmed with anxiety.

“To be honest, I also was quite stupid. I can be stubborn too, sometimes. And there were time, at the beginning, where I wouldn’t try to be in your place...” 

You say, letting soothing fingers run through his hair, a motion you knew always relaxed him. Bruce instantly calmed down, as your kids made some disgusted faces at your closeness, and the incident was over. 

It was good, though, that Duke asked. First because it was actually pretty funny to think of the fearless Batman getting his ass kicked by his wife...but also because it was a good reminder to him of what he almost lost, and who he used to be. 

Alfred saved him. 

You saved him. 

His children saved him. 

And now, he could appreciate a relaxing movie time with all of you (minus Alfred, who was in his room, probably devouring the cake you got him (because yes, that cake was for him and him only), finally relaxed). 

The movie chosen, everyone took their usual spot on the massive couch, that Bruce had ordered specifically so that his big family could all fit on. 

At one point, both you and Bruce drifted off to sleep, in each others’ arms, and barely noticed your kids placing a blanket on you, rolling their eyes at how teeth rotting sweet you two were. 

6 pm, a walk through the park. 

Alfred loved Wayne Manor’s gardens. 

And he loved even more peacefully walk through them with his family. 

This was the time you were always reminded how massive the “backyard” was, when you’d go through acres of it. 

The kids would play soccer, baseball, football, or anything really. Alfred would often join. He was actually very athletic, and the kids would fight to have him on their team. 

You and Bruce would take part in it too, and your children would always make sure you’d be in the same team. Sure, sometimes you’d stop playing to smooch each others, like two damn teenagers...BUT, having you both on the same team would avoid triggering your crazy competitive minds. 

For some reason, whenever you had to play against each others, you’d both get very ruthless and petty, and it would often time get annoying (for real, you were forbidden to play UNO since a long time by then). 

You’d all spend some times outside, no matter the weather, enjoying a normal family outing. 

Alfred loved this time of the day. 

Because he loved the gardens, but most of all, he loved seeing his family being happy and together... 

9:30 pm, the dinner. 

Dinner was entirely prepared by you, and Alfred only had to come at the table and wait. 

By then, you had a perfect system that made it so the meal was prepped efficiently. It was Alfred’s favorite, of course. 

The table would be filled with all his favorite meals, prepared mainly by Bruce with you guys’ help. 

Your kids would pretend to be waiter in a fancy restaurant, and exaggerate everything, which was very funny. 

And you’d all share a meal, something that was quite rare, in this day and age. 

In fact, you were pretty sure that your entire family being reunited for a dinner happened max three times a year. For the holiday season, for Alfred Day, and for Batman day (you just thought it was funny to celebrate it). 

This was just a time to catch up, and to be together. 

Alfred would ask countless questions to everyone, and everyone would be polite and listen. It’d just be so nice, and relaxing... 

11:30 pm, almost the end. 

The day would end in the batcave, with everyone enjoying each others’ presence for a few more minute before you’d go back to a “normal” life. 

You’d talk about your favorite moment of the day, and how you always really liked “Alfred day”. 

And then it’d be over. Alfred would retake his butler position, and the Batman would prowl the streets of Gotham once more. 

You’d be their home support again, working the computer often, and you-

Ah. Yes. But not yet. 

There were still a few minutes. And it sounded like the perfect time for you to finally talk about a certain news...

You see, Alfred was the one you went to to vent. You loved your family with all your heart... But anyone knowing them just à little bit knew they could be à handful. And Alfred, he was always there. 

So it just seemed fitted for you, that you’d announce this news on that day. While everyone was around, and celebrating Alfred’s existence. 

Because what you were about to say, was one of Alfred’s dearest hope...

12:28 pm, 2 minutes before the end. 

You waited the very last minute, because you thought the effect would be even better. 

And as your husband and kids were ready to leave, you said : 

“Oh wait, I have one last thing to say on this very special day !” 

They all stopped, and turned around, looking at you. You smiled. Nervous, but happy. You knew that you and Bruce wanted this anyway, so it would be fine. And you knew your kids...your kids would be happy. For sure. 

But Alfred. Alfred would be over the moon. And so, without further ado, you said : 

“I’m pregnant !”

Bruce’s eyes went wide, and his mouth opened dumbly. He froze on the spot, before smiling widely and starting to laugh stupidly. His first reaction was to go to Alfred, which you were expecting. 

Your children all reacted at the same time, rushing you like a wave of noise and excited screams and...pfiouh they could be overwhelming. 

Alfred was indeed over the moon. 

And he was the one calming your children, tearing them off of you so he could hug you, and give you some space, too. 

Because that’s what Alfred did. Take care of you. Of his family. 

And Alfred day, this year, ended with him looking at you and Bruce hugging tightly, overjoyed by the news of a future new little addition to the family. 

Up until next year, and this future baby’s first Alfred day...

_________________________________________________

Annnnd it’s 9:12 am, kept my promise to post something “today” haha. Probably not the best time to post. Buuuut...well, another sleepless night (or early morning, all about perspective really haha) of writing. I’m definitely back :). I hope you liked this story, I’m a little nervous after being gone for so long, I feel like I don’t know how to write anymore, and this is all very...mmmmbadhgezhe. I still do hope you liked it a little bit. 

Reblogs and comments are always appreciated <3. 

#Bruce Wayne x Reader #Batmom #Batfam #Batfamily #Batfam x Reader #Richard Grayson x Reader #Bruce Wayne imagine #Tim Drake x Reader #Damian Wayne x reader #Jason Todd x Reader #Duke Thomas x reader #cassandra cain x reader #Alfred Pennyworth #Alfred Dayyyyy haha #to read in the same tone #than that #'It's garbage dayyyyy' line #look for it online you'll get what I mean #Batfamily x Reader #DC reader insert #Bruce Wayne #Richard Grayson #Jason Todd #Tim Drake #Damian Wayne #Cassandra Cain #Fem!Reader

[wynniewright]

In Harm’s Way (M)

→ This story is a part of the @bangtanshadowfamily “The Creatures of Moonlight Manor” Halloween collab!

→ Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

→ Word Count: 4.8k

→ Genre: grim reaper au, halloween au, smut, lots of fluff, bit angsty

→ Summary: After fighting with her grim reaper boyfriend, Y/N decides to throw herself into a dangerous situations to get him to stop ignoring her.

→ Trigger Warnings: Mentions of attempted suicide (it’s not dark, think of when bella tried to get edward to save her so she kept doing stupid shit - it’s that), one time mention of a past near-death experience (not detailed, it’s just vaguely mentioned in the fluffy part), reader attempts suicide via toaster bath (with the intention of being saved by her supernatural, soul-reaping boyfriend). Please don’t read if these make you uncomfortable! 

→ Warnings: dirty talk, unprotected sex, oral (female), bit of impregnation kink, tae just wants to be a dad, reader makes stupid decisions, cum play, possible impregnation?, sex with pants on, fingering, lots of fluff and all that good stuff

→ A/N: Hello hello! Finally found the time to squeeze in this story in the middle of my full-time school and part-time work schedule. Sorry it took so long for another fic to post but here I am! I want to thank my amazing bangtan hq sprinting crew who helped motivate me to finish this @purpletigertaetae @nightowls388 @shadowsremedy @wwilloww. This story was supposed to be a lot darker and a whole lot more filthy than it turned out. Wasn’t supposed to be fluffy at all and somehow it turned real quick so I hope you enjoy. I’d also like to state that I’m not promoting suicide or slightly toxic relationships, this is a fictional story and the reader hasn’t died, isn’t dead, and won’t die, so the suicidal scene in this is not meant to be disturbing. If you’re not comfortable reading, please don’t. Alright, I love you all.~ Hope you enjoy.

The biggest struggle of dating Taehyung was that no guide, tutorial, or advice blog post could’ve prepared you for what it was going to be like to be in a relationship with him. I almost wished there were some sort of ‘how to’ on dating a grim reaper because no matter how much dating experience I had, being with him was like being in my first relationship again.

It was a little unconventional, sure. Date nights were always iffy since, apparently, reapers don’t need sleep and therefore are technically scheduled around the clock. Boy, there was nothing like us setting up a nice, stay-at-home dinner date when he’d suddenly kiss my cheek and disappear into thin air, only to come back a few minutes later and announce he’d taken another soul. I’ll be honest, it was a slight mood killer. 

But aside from his job description, Tae was a kind person. He didn’t seem to know exactly how to deal with human emotions, as his kind were strictly prohibited from having human-reaper relations and never had the opportunity to learn from us. But just because he didn’t know what emotions were, doesn’t mean he didn’t feel them. He was a sensitive guy, too.

I remembered the first time he cried. We were watching Marley & Me and I cried at the end like any other sane human being. Tae didn’t cry at all, in fact, knowing I was sad made him sad enough to tear up, even more so when he couldn’t get me to stop. That memory was one of my favorites purely because it was too wholesome to forget: a grim reaper crying because a girl was sad that a dog died in a movie. 

But like every other person in the world, not ever emotion was positive. 

Being much older than I, Taehyung didn’t really have moments where he got angry to the point of exploding in a fit. There wasn’t a situation where he ever passed that threshold, at least, not in front of me. The feelings Tae couldn’t quite grasp were hurt and jealousy. 

From his own words, he never loved anyone before me, and something I knew better than anyone was that jealousy and love were very closely intertwined. 

The first year we dated, I tried explaining to him what jealousy was, that even I felt it too in an attempt to teach him that he didn’t need to act on it. It was safe to say that it didn’t really work.

Over four and a half into our relationship together and Taehyung still chose to disappear whenever we got into a small petty argument that involved him taking something out of context and then not wanting to talk about it like the century old being that he was. 

In our most recent example, my best friend, Sam, called and told me that she was expecting her first baby. We cried a little and then spent the rest of the conversation talking about whose eyes they would have or which parent they would most resemble. Tae and I never talked about kids nor a future together, we just lived in every moment the two of us were given, so indulging on a new topic with Sam gave me the image of tiny Tae-Taes waddling across the wooden floor, matching their father’s bright, boxy grin as they giggled. 

I made one comment - one! I told her how I’d love to have mini-Taehyungs running about the place and that I was so excited to meet her little Sam. Somehow, he took that and ran with it.

He didn’t bother letting me speak, pulling the usual disappearing act he always resorted to when he was upset and didn’t want to properly face his feelings in the moment. I thought it would pass like all the rest, but something changed. 

Hours passed and he never came to check in on me. Days flew by and I hadn’t heard from him. I wanted for him to come by, swallowing my pride and shouting at the empty air in hopes he was listening, to no avail. Nothing worked. 

After two weeks of being ignored and left without so much as a trace, I decided to do what any normal girl would do to seek out her boyfriend’s attention.

I needed to kill myself. 

I didn’t want to die, by any means. Tae knew how close I’d come to death a few too many times, but if I was going to get his attention back on me, I needed to attempt something stupid. Not only did it have to be stupid, it also had to be believable. I needed to convince him that I was going to die and hope he’d rescue me just in time.

I knew it wasn’t a good plan to start off with but it was the only thing I could come up with to get him to focus on me. The only reason I even thought of such a stupid idea was because I knew he’d never let me actually die. He saved me once and I was willing to bet he’d save me again and this time my life was actually on the line.

All that being said, I’ll regurgitate that it wasn’t the brightest idea I’d ever had. 

What if he’d decided to have someone else cover me? What if the one time he decided he didn’t want to see me again, he passed the job on to someone else and they just let it go?

I shivered with that thought fresh in my mind. To say I was scared was a gross understatement, the thought of all the ways this could go bad were enough to paralyze me with fear. There was only one reason I stood there in our master bathroom with a bath full of water and a toaster in my hands, already plugged in and ready for me to drop it in.

If I wanted him to talk to me, I had to force him to keep me out of harm’s way.

Nervousness nagged at the back of my mind, heart beating a million miles a minute against my ribcage, forcing me to take a deep inhale of fresh air, even if it was only to calm my nerves for a few seconds. A few seconds was enough to release my grip and pray that Tae would be there to rescue me.

With a last shake of my head, I thought up a quick “I love you” to the universe as if the universe would deliver my message to my friends and family if things didn’t go as planned. And with that, I dropped the small appliance.

The moment it slipped from my fingers, I clenched my eyes tight and waited for the shock to ripple through my body in powerful waves, but nothing came. In fact, time itself seemed to slow down as a large clanging against the wall forced my eyes open, right as a tall, dark figure wrapped an arm around my waist and yanked me out of the tub to press me against the wall adjacent. 

Taehyung stood there, fuming in anger as his gaze bored into mine, hands gripping tightly to me and keeping me pressed against the wall, though I’m not sure if he was holding onto me to keep me steady or if he was preparing to murder me where I stood. To be fair, if it wasn’t for his hold on me, I would’ve slipped against the tile floor that puddled with the water leaking from the bottom half of my jeans. I added a mental note to myself that next time I do something like that again, I should prepare for it to actually work and actually wear a pair of shorts or something. But another problem for another time.

The sheer force in which Taehyung’s eyes glared into mine would normally have made me cower. But knowing I had to do something that stupid just to get him to talk to me again filled me with a burning anger that I didn’t know I had within me. With that newfound anger, I pushed back against his chest, my hands rebounding off his chest without moving him in the slightest. He dropped his hold on me and I stepped forward, my foot catching a slippery tile and making me bang my back against the wall roughly. A sharp pain shot through my back and Tae softened for a  moment, reaching out again to steady me before I finally exploded.

“No. Don’t touch me! I don’t even know where to begin right now!” I defiantly shoved his hands away from my body and crossed my arms over my chest once I balanced out a bit. 

“You? You?! The fuck did I do?” He argued, waving his hands in the air as if his gestures were defence enough for his stupid inhuman reactions.

“Oh, so you’re going to play stupid now, is that it? Really?” I barked, taking a step forward and poking a finger right against his tight chest. “I don’t know. How about the fact that you just walked out on me and never came back? What happened to having a normal fucking conversation like an adult?” He received a poke to his clothed peck with every word to emphasize what he’d done wrong.

Annoyed with me prodding at him in frustration, he grabbed my wrist at my last poke, holding my arm away from him and resumed the glaring. “You’re making this about me now? Are you going to completely ignore the fact that you almost just fried yourself? What the fuck were you thinking?!” He raised his voice, something he didn’t do often, and I naturally shied away from the loudness of his voice to keep my ears from ringing.

“Well I wouldn't have needed to do that had you come back to talk! Of course I tried to get your attention. I love you, you fucking moron,” I grunted, voice cracking at the end as tears instantly sprang to my eyes. Willing them away, I stood my ground and met Tae’s heated gaze with an unwavering one of my own. I wasn’t the one in the wrong. 

“We did talk. Yeah I left, but I did that after I said things weren’t going to work out between us.”

He wasn’t wrong. He did technically say that but it was spoken like a passive statement made in anger, a second before he disappeared to wherever the fuck he went to whenever he was upset with me. So I was just supposed to accept that was it after four and a half years and no idea what broke the two of us. Fuck that, he meant too much to me.

“I don’t understand why you keep saying that. I made one comment - one! - about kids to Sam and now you’re dead-set on not being with me? Why are you so angry about that?” My words came out in a pained whisper as I pleaded with him. I just wanted a response back, to know what was hurting him so I could try and fix it. 

His eyes shifted from mine repetitively, searching my face for something before he mumbled out, “Because I can’t give that to you.”

I froze, all but my heart coming to a halt as I processed his words. He couldn’t give that to me… Kids?

I couldn’t help the frown that framed my lips as his face morphed into one of discomfort, grimacing at himself. A pang of guilt smacked me right in the chest as his face fell. All of it began to make sense and I wasn’t sure if I made things better or worse by doing what I did.

“Tae…” I started, mouth agape as I tried to form some sort of response but I couldn’t think of one at that moment.

He straightened himself out and all visible evidence of his emotional expression was wiped clean off his features. “I can’t give you kids,” he repeated clearly, seemingly more for himself than for me.

Pride swelled up in me and I reached out to wrap my arms around his midsection to hug him close.

“Baby,” I cooed, a fresh wave of tears threatening to soak into his soft cotton shirt as I smothered my face against him, taking in his scent and his warmth. He returned the embrace, tightly hugging me back with his nose buried atop my head.

“You’re not mad at me,” he mumbled thoughtfully.

I shook my head against him, squeezing him that much tighter to reassure him. “I figured it wasn’t biologically possible, but there are plenty of ways for couples to have kids when they otherwise can’t themselves.”

I imagined his brows furrowing as he turned his head, resting the side of his plump cheek on top of my hair. “I don’t understand.”

Pulling back, I tilted my head to look him in the eyes and smiled supportively. Our kids don’t have to look like either of us to be ‘little Taehyungs’ or little ‘Y/Ns’.” I leaned back further and pressed my chin against the center of his chest, humming as he readjusted his embrace around me. “I’ll see you in the way they smile or laugh, all those little idiosyncrasies they pick up from you that make them you kids.”

Tae blinked with a blank expression on his face, staring me down without so much as a response to follow up. The longer he went without responding, the stronger my heart pounded in my chest. 

We never had any serious talks like that before because everything about our relationship was too complicated. Marriage and families weren’t even on our mind, at least not on mine until Sam was getting her own, and suddenly I realized how I’d love to have a family with Taehyung, no matter how unconventional. But there’s a chance that could’ve just been me. Maybe it was too early to be talking about that so Tae didn’t really have an opinion since he couldn’t have kids. Maybe he was trying not to hurt my feelings? God, I broke him.

I cleared my throat and opening my mouth to talk when he cut me off. “So you’re not mad that I…. you’re okay with it?”

“Of course I’m okay with it. Sure, I’m a teenie but sad they probably won’t have your boxy grin or your cute little nose freckle, but our kids would be cute regardless.” The anxiety I had towards his response was no longer a thought in my mind as I suddenly grinned, punctuating my statement with a kiss on his chin, which he playfully returned. But he didn’t stop there. Strong hands gripped the back of my thighs and urged me to jump, forcing my legs to wrap around his waist as he pushed us up against the wall once more, chaste kisses littered across the length of my face. Each peck tickled, giggles pouring past my lips as I scrunched my nose up and took all the comfort he gave. Lips trailed down my neck before he buried his face in the crook of my collarbone, happily sighing against ym skin with a happy hum.

The smile on my lips pinched at my cheeks, making my face ache with the strength of my happiness alone. I never knew he’d have such a human response to something like kids. It made my heart flutter to know that’s where his heart and mind were, that he wasn’t actually mad at me.

With determination, he pushed us off of the bathroom wall and opened the door to our shared bedroom, carrying me to the bed where he motioned to put me down.

“Babe, my pants are still wet,” I reminded him, to which he nodded and set me down a foot or so away to stand in front of him.

“Well, we’re going to solve that,” he quipped, reaching down between us to fumble with the button and zipper on my jeans while I grinned up at him. It wasn’t what I had in mind when planning this out but I sure as hell wasn’t going to complain.

He had a few issues with the clasping mechanics of my pants, a regular issue he was faced with, and grunted in irritation. I giggled, brushing back the long strands of hair behind his ear before a loud ripping sound pulled my attention.

“Baby! These are my favorite jeans!” I screeched at Taehyung, lips pouting as I admired the fresh rip down the center of the jeans that paralleled the zipper. You know, the zipper he could’ve just undone.

Lips pressed to my forehead as a chuckle rippled through his chest. “Not anymore, they’re not.” He meant it to tease but I still glared at him, not finding it in me to laugh at the expense of my favorite pair of jeans. “Sorry, I’ll buy you new ones,” he offered in a light-hearted tone, making me roll my eyes and return the kiss to his chin.

Lean fingers dipped into the waistband of my jeans, tugging them down my hips until they passed the curve of my ass. But the material from the thigh down was still sopping wet and made it even more entertaining to watch him struggle to slide the denim down my legs, coaxing another giggle from me.

“Fuck, why is this so difficult?” Tae let out a soft groan, giving up on his quest of removing the wet article and instead closing the distance between us, lips meeting mine in a gentle kiss.

“What about my pants? Not going to rip them all the way?” I wriggled my eyebrows and laughed when he rolled his eyes back.

“Pants or no pants, I’m still fucking you into the mattress.” His voice dripped with heat, his tone comparing to sex itself, sensual and deep, which made the words shoot straight down to my core.

As promised, he stalked towards me until the back of my knees pressed up against the edge of the bed. He didn’t miss a beat, cupping my face with his large palms and pulling me into a deep kiss that took away what little breath I had after his sexy statement. His tongue skimmed over the seam of my mouth, canines digging into the flesh of my bottom lip as he gave me that final push back onto the bed, lowering me down with a steady hold on my back until I was flush against the mattress with him hovering above me. Mouths lavished over one another, pulling the other into each other as far as our bodies would let us until the lack of oxygen forced me to pull away for a moment.

I wasted no time in pulling the white shirt from his black dress slacks, untucking his usual orderly work clothes so I could dip my hand under the smooth material to feel his bare warmth against my fingers. Each little divot and bulge across his stomach only added to the arousal gathering between my legs, allowing my fingers to explore the clothed spaced with the image of him naked on my mind.

The thought of that alone drove me mad, thighs instinctively rubbing together to relieve some of the pent up pressure. But doing so only reminded me of the pants I still had clinging to the lower part of my legs, the tight and uncomfortable sticky feeling causing a slight bubble of irritation to well up within me.

“Bab-” I started, cut off by Tae’s lips roughly soothing over mine with a kiss deeper than the one before it. It was his mission to explore my mouth, delving deep inside to slide his tongue along mine in a dance for passion, not power. There was no struggle in the kiss, which was different - a good different that made my heart beat just a little bit harder for him.

“Sh, ignore the pants,” Taehyung whispered against my lips and I had to force down the eyeroll that almost surfaced at such a dismissive response.

As I was about to protest further, Tae parted from the kiss and pushed himself from the bed, kneeling down on the floor and pushing my legs up until they tucked up to my chest to expose my clothed core for his eyes to feast on. The tip of his tongue swiped across his lips before he dove down, pushing my panties out of the way to dip a finger shallowly into my sopping heat. I moaned softly, holding onto my ruined jeans with one hand and sneaking the other around to his head, intertwining my fingers in his soft, chestnut locks.

Without warning, Tae pushed his finger in to the knuckle and lowered his head to hungrily lap at my clip over my already soaked underwear, ripping a moan forcefully from my throat. He moaned in return, any noise that left my mouth only adding to his determination to work me up and get me as wet as inhumanly possible. He sped up his pace, curling the tip of his finger to stroke the pad of his fingertip along the rough patch at the top, the spot that made my mind go blank and left me a mumbling mess for him to please. He always knew how to hit the right place, each and every time together was spent as a new learning experience for him to map out and worship my body as I did his.

A few pumps later, Tae placed a sloppy, wet kiss along the inside of my thigh before adding a finger to the one already thrusting into my cunt at a moderate pace. The stretch burned despite how slender his fingers were, always filling me up nicely. Brushing against a particular spot deep within me, I was left gasping for air, tugging the strands at the top of his head as I attempted to buck my hips against his hand to meet each of his thrusts, my sopping pussy tembling around his fingers.

“Fuck, baby. You always take me so fucking well,” he praised, leaving a few stray kisses along my thigh to accompany the faster pace he’d set, working his fingers into me as if he could do it all fucking night long.

“Mmh, Tae,” I groaned, abandoning the grip on my legs to ground myself against the duvet underneath.

“What, baby? What do you want?” Rougher kisses were pressed into the length of my thigh and along my wet mound, tongue practically dancing everywhere but my clit to tease me.

“Tae-Tae, I want you in me. Please.”

Despite the urgency in my request, Tae peeked around my legs with a softened look, eyes kind as his body smile outshines the gloss of arousal painting his lips and chin.

“Yeah? Where do you want me, baby? Here?” He asked with a slide of his fingers across my g-spot, causing my thighs to quake as I fought off the softest hint of an orgasm. I nodded and begged him for his cock while he rubbed the remainder of my slick from his face and onto his sleeve, towering over me once again as he climbed up the bed once again, having stripped himself of his clothes. The heat returned to his gaze as he devoured my body with his eyes, not needed for me to be naked in order to let his imagination run wild. 

Leaving a soft kiss against my lips, he pushed back to sit on his knees and lifted my legs up until my feet rested against the top of his shoulder. The position we were in gave him the perfect view of my ruined panties, his eyes lit up with a heat unlike anything I’d ever seen from him before as he traced the material with his fingertip. 

“You want me to fuck a baby into you?” He asked, fighting the blush that creeped up his neck and into his ears as he stayed locked onto my clothed pussy. 

His words made me giddy, the thought of him fucking me and getting me pregnant with his child adding fuel to our very passionate fire. “Please, I want your baby, Tae,” I whined. He dragged his cockhead against my clothed core, earning a grunt from us both. With a push of my panties to the side and a gentle rock of his hips against my own, the entirety of his cock slid into me, walls protested the stretch his thick girth gave despite the prep, drawing a synchronized moan from us. 

“Oh fuck, babe,” I groaned, fisting the sheets beneath me as his grip aropund my legs tightened. He stilled when the last inch of his cock sank into me, the tremble in his breath telling me he felt the tightness in this position too. Without warning, he dragged his hips back, exposing everything but the tip of his cock before he quickly thrusted back in. 

He continued his languid pace while pressing open kisses to my foot just beneath the hem of the jeans, nails raking against the flesh of my thigh before his eyes flickered down to me. 

I gasped when he adjusted the angle of his hips and targeted my g-spot without miss, setting a punishing pace with his hips as he suddenly drove his cock into me roughly. I moaned out, teeth capturing my bottom lip to contain the sounds his actions were tearing from my throat. 

With a grunt, Tae switched our positions, lowering himself down until his shoulders nestled in the hollow of my knees, face ducking down to pull my lips into a kiss as he resumed his powerful thrusts into my aching pussy.

The new position had every part of my body humming in happiness, the surface of my flesh tingling with each thrust he gave until my eyes shut. Our lips danced together, tongues stealing tastes of one another as the little sounds we made were muted by the other. I fisted a hand in his sweaty hair, using the brunette strands to ground me against his assault against my hips. I tried to meet his thrusts, but the awkward position left me lying there, unable to move, as I took his cock as he gave it. 

I tightened around him, loving the way I felt every ridge of his thick length as it disappeared from my cunt and pushed back inside to hit me in all the right places. After so many thrusts against that spot deep within me, a pressure built up in my lower stomach that burned, growing in size with each pump of his cock until I whined, needing pressure on my clit to push me over that final edge.

Knowing exactly what I wanted, he snuck a hand between us and used the slick on my thighs to wet his thumb before swiping rigorously against my sensitive clit. I mewled in pleasure at the contact, throwing my head back and parting our lips as loud whines and moans leaked from my mouth. It was almost too much, the combination of his hand and his cock throwing me over the edge faster than I could ever get myself off, pushing me over that ledge and into my orgasm. 

I mumbled incoherently as my spasming cunt only drove Taehyung to ride out into his own orgasm, continuing his brutal pace until his cock twitched and stilled inside me, filling me to the brim with his seed.

We stayed that way for a few minutes, taking the time to catch our breaths and return to reality. My body protested him pulling his limp cock from my oversensitive hole, making me grimace. When he pulled back and released my legs from his grip, I groaned at the stiffness in my legs from being in that position for a while, but completely forgot about that as goosebumps fluttered over my skin and brought my attention back down to the soaked jeans I still had on my body. 

Taehyung noticed my shivering and gave a small laugh, deciding to help me out and finally rip each of the legs until the material wasn’t too tight to remove. Sticking to the stripping, I took off my top and unclasped my bra, flinging both across the room to deal with later as Tae stood at the edge of our bed, between my legs. His eyes locked onto the cum dripping from my pussy and he couldn’t contain a grin as he reached forward and swiped a drop up onto his finger to push it back inside of me. 

“Well, at least we’ll know for sure,” Tae murmured to himself. 

“Hm?” I hummed, reaching out with grabby hands for him to come join me on the bed, which he did with a soft smile and a peck to the nose.

“I’ve always assumed we can’t have kids. I guess now we’ll figure out whether I was right or wrong.”

#creaturesofmm #btsbookclub #bangtanhq #ksmutclub #ficswithluv #bangtanarmynet #bangtanuniversity #bts smut #taehyung smut #grim reaper au #halloween au #collab