#i cannot count the amount of times someone told me this

[lesbianpepsi]

'Cause I love, to love, to love you

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Fem!reader

Summary: Ever since Wednesday had been gifted a phone you decided to steal her phone to play a prank on her. But much to your surprise you see something unexpected on her phone.

Warnings: bad writing, some swearing

Words: 1.833k

A/N: i wrote this on my phone since my laptop is having a mental breakdown on me rn. not proof read since it's 3am and it's exam season lmao. sorryyy. also this is my first 'fic' post here. hope this isn't too bad lmao, enjoy:)

One of your absolute favourite hobbies, if it even counts as a hobby, is to "borrow" someone's phone for a few minutes and do something to the phone.

Whether it be quickly change their ringtone to something embarrassing, take a ungodly amount of selfies in thirty seconds, or even send yourself a message complimenting yourself or agreeing to do something stupid.

You always found an annoying trick to play. But you always had one that was your absolute favourite. A classic, some might say.

"Borrowing" someone's phone and changing their wallpaper to something incredibly stupid.

If you were lucky the persons phone would already have unattractive selfies they took as a joke, or a friend would send them one of themself that would automatically save to the phone.

You've done that over a thousand times to all of your friends and family members, and to you it never gets old.

Enid has always been the easiest victim because, one, her passcode is literally '2929', two, Enid always has a grip on her phone but in your or hers dorm room that grip instantly weakens and she always leaves her phone around the place.

The hardest victim to play this prank on is your girlfriend, Wednesday Addams.

Although the goth is not often using her actual device, she always makes sure to keep it close to her person.

The rare times you've managed to snag it while she's in the bathroom or during her writing time, if she isn't looking, for the life of you, you cannot guess her passcode.

Hers has to be much more complex than Enid's simple four digit passcode, since you've tried everything you could've thought of as a six digit passcode, yet to no avail.

You've tried birthdays, important dates to Wednesday, her favourite numbers, secret messages using numbers.

Nothing works.

You've been patiently waiting for the day to finally play the harmless prank on your girlfriend for weeks, and on a quiet Saturday night, it finally happened.

_____________________________________

Saturday had always been your favourite day, who doesn't think Saturday as the best day?

You especially loved Saturdays since the fact the following day follows is Sunday, a day with also no school. Which meant Wednesday was allowed to come over to your dorm room and stay over for the night.

The school had a rule where sleepovers weren't permitted unless it was on the weekend, something that annoyed you greatly, but it was better than nothing.

This particular Saturday you and Wednesday decided to have a simple day. Both of you wanted to have more of a relaxing day rather than one full of plans for once.

It was ten in the evening and you and Wednesday had just finished the first episode of Criminal Minds, a show that took you a while of begging to get Wednesday to actually agree to watch with you.

With a smile you turned your head to look at her, her head already turned to look at you.

"So, what did you think?" You asked eagerly, hoping the goth actually enjoyed one of your favourite shows.

She gave a blank expression as she answered the question. "It was tolerable at best." You grinned at the response; pride filling in you since in Wednesday language that meant she actually liked it.

"I knew you'd like it!" You had the urge to add 'I told you so' but you opted to leave that out. "Whose your favourite character?"

Wednesday's raises her brows slightly at that. "A favourite character? I've only seen a singular episode and don't have a good enough concept of each character's personality to answer that question." She replied in a monotone voice as she glanced back at the screen before back at you.

You stared at her in silence for a moment before a slight smirk replaced the grin on your face.

"It's Hotch isn't it?" Wednesday gives you an annoyed stare as she crosses her arms over stomach. "Just because you've watched this show a myriad of times doesn't make you a profiler." She grumbled, confirming the answer to your question.

You chuckled as you teasingly nudged your shoulder with hers. "I know. I just know my girlfriend so well."

The corners of Wednesday's lips quirked up for a moment before they returned to their normal straight line. "Don't get too cocky, Y/n."

You chuckle once again as you moved your hand to holds Wednesday's, knowing the simple display of affection was one she didn't mind much.

Your smile only grew when Wednesday didn't hesitate to interlock your hands.

"I wouldn't dream of it. But I do know when we watch season two you will definitely love Emily but say otherwise."

Wednesday let out a scoff at your words. "I only remember agreeing to watch one episode of this show, not an entire season."

You shrugged your shoulders before saying. "Fine, I guess I'll have to watch the next episode alone while you sleep then."

Her dark chocolate brown eyes narrowed the ever slightest at that, as if she was trying to profile you to see if you were lying or not.

You stated back with the same amount of intensity, using it as an excuse to admire your girlfriend's beauty.

Wednesday uncharacteristically broke the eye contact first as she let out an angry huff.

"Only one more episode then." You grin at her words, already knowing that meant there were a lot more episodes ahead of you two.

"But I need to empty my bladder first." She states before she let go of your hand to stab up. Once she was out of the bed and standing she gave you a menacing glare before saying. "Don't start the episode without me."

You nodded your head.

"Go piss girl." You said as you let out a small laugh at your own words, still finding the meme enjoyable.

Wednesday stared blankly at you for a few seconds before she turned around and headed towards the bathroom.

She never understood the joke no matter how many times you told her the meme.

Once you heard the shutting of the door you didn't hesitate to roll over to Wednesday's side and retrieve her phone.

Pressing on the screen her lock screen appeared, her lockscreen wallpaper simply being a black background.

Very Wednesday, you thought to yourself. Was the chances of you actually figuring Wednesday's password slim? Yes. Impossible? No.

You were determined to change the girl's wallpaper to something stupid at least once.

Swiping up the phone presented the password screen to you, the circular numbers taking up the entire screen.

Your thumb hovered over the numbers as you thought of what possibly could her password.

Your first guess was '233267' since under each number was one letter that in order spelt 'Addams'.

Much to your disappointment the phone vibrated as the password emptied, telling you that the password was incorrect.

Knowing you didn't have much time to waste you quickly thought of another password you hadn't tried before.

'782378' This time the letters under the numerals spelt Pubert, the name of Wednesday's youngest brother.

Once again the phone vibrated angrily, taunting you that you got it wrong once again.

You sighed as you glanced over at the bathroom door knowing Wednesday would walk through them any minute.

Accepting your defeat you decided to give one last attempt before giving up. This time you just mimicked Wednesday's blank expression as you entered a six digit passcode you hadn't tried before.

'111111' You rolled your eyes as you entered the final digit expecting to hear the vibration once again, especially due to the fact how simple the password was.

But to your surprise you didn't feel a vibration in your hand. Instead you heard nothing.

Your eyes snapped back towards the screen and to your utter delight and shock you were in Wednesday's phone.

You actually managed to guess her password!

(You decided to ignore the fact it was literally more hackable and easier to guess than Enid's passcode)

A smug smile appeared on your face as you straightened your posture, pushing yourself slightly up as your mind rushed with different things you could change her wallpaper to.

Your eyes glanced at her home screen and you fully expected her home screen to be the same as her lock screen.

But it wasn't.

Her wallpaper was a picture of you two on your first date.

You were not expecting that.

The picture itself was a selfie you took, your face closer to the camera with Wednesday sitting behind you. You had a wide smile on your face while Wednesday had her iconic death stare.

In the background of the photo was the gorgeous forest of Nevermore. It was where you had your first date with Wednesday.

Wednesday had prepared a picnic and mapped out the best spot in the forest where she apparently knew the two of you wouldn't be interrupted. It was truly magical.

The longer you stared at the home screen the harder you found it to go actually change the picture.

Suddenly, you heard the obnoxiously loud taps from behind the bathroom door, indicating Wednesday was going to come out any second.

You glanced at the door before back at her phone. Even if it was a few seconds before Wednesday emerged that was still plenty of time for you to change it.

You smiled slightly to yourself as you shut the phone off and placed it back to its orignal spot before shifting back to your side of the bed.

As expected the bathroom door opened a few moments later and silently Wednesday walked over to the bed and got in.

She skilfully sneaked under the blanket you two were sharing and entered your personal space before she turned her head to look at you.

"Are you going to put the continuing episode on or not?" She asked impatiently with a tilt of her head.

You didn't reply at first. Instead you leaned down to kiss Wednesday's cold lips.

The shorter girl took a second to notice what was happening before you felt her kiss you back, you couldn't help but smile against her lips at the feeling.

The kiss itself was brief but it still managed to take away your breath as Wednesday pulled away.

She looked up at you with the smallest tint of pink tainting her ears, something you so desperately wanted to comment on.

"Although that was pleasurable why did you kiss me?" You shrugged your shoulders weakly as your grabbed Wednesday's hand with your hand. "I just wanted to kiss you." You said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

The rare small smile slowly appeared on Wednesday's face as she turned to look at the TV screen at the foot of your bed. She shifted closer to you as she did so.

You pressed one final kiss to Wednesday's head before you grabbed the remote with your free hand and pressed play for the next episode.

Although your prank was a failure this time you didn't mind.

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x femreader #wednesday #wednesday addams #wednesday netflix #fanfic #fluff #wednesday addams & reader #my writing #i'm so gay #i'm also so tired

[unoislazy]

I Am No Coward

(Part 2)

Mizu x Fem! Reader

Summary: You find out that your brothers wife cannot cook for shit.

————————————————————

You and Mikio hadn’t spoken since your last argument. It wasn’t much of an argument as much as it was you just yelling at him, but regardless you both hadn’t talked since. You said nothing to him any time he entered a room, you turned away and continued whatever activity or conversation you held before he entered.

Oh you were mad, beyond that even, but you tried your best not to let it show when around Mizu. Despite your anger towards Mikio you didn’t want it to affect how Mizu viewed him, if she even valued your opinion that much by this point. You helped her out with chores that Mikio had more or less just tossed on her, which were things that you had already been in charge of beforehand. You constantly told her there was no need for her to help, and that if you handled it before, you could handle it now, but she would always insist on helping.

So you let her.

It was coming close to sundown so you gathered up as many ingredients as you thought necessary and set them out to begin cooking. As you had set out your ingredients you had noticed someone enter the room through your peripheral vision. You turned a bit, not wanting to give the person your full attention or acknowledgement in case it had been Mikio, but you quickly realized that the person was actually Mizu. Now knowing this, you greeted the woman with a wide smile and beckoned her to join you.

“Would you like to help me prepare the food?” You asked as she knelt down beside you. She looked at all the ingredients you had set out with a confused look very evident on her face.

“I can try… but I’ve never actually cooked before.” She admitted, looking up from the food and towards you. Your smile never faltered, as you turned back to the now heated pot before you.

“We all have to start somewhere right? Here, why don’t you chop some of these.” You instructed, pushing some vegetables towards her and handing her the knife. You could see her eyes light up almost the instant she looked at the knife, happy to finally see something she knew how to properly use without help. She nodded at you before chopping to her heart's content. You on the other hand began to get the spices and other parts of the meal prepared before the vegetables.

You were nowhere near the level of a chef, you simply had to learn the hard way what worked with cooking and what didn’t. In the very beginning of your stay with Mikio, you fondly remember him taking at least some time out of his day to help teach you some basics to cooking. You wished you could somehow convince him to go back to the way he was, but you couldn’t change him and you knew that, and at this point you didn’t want Mizu to get hurt trying. She was his wife after all but you still felt awful sitting by and watching as he ignored all of her attempts to get on his good side.

On the bright side of everything, you truly enjoyed Mizu’s company and you made sure it was obvious to her. She always seemed so genuinely interested in everything you showed her how to do, from cleaning the stables, to cleaning the house, feeding the horses, and now even cooking. She was making an effort to adjust to this new life and she had not a single complaint about it. It had taken you a moment to get used to two other people being around all the time, but when it came to Mizu you welcomed it with open arms.

She was a lot more clumsy than one might initially believe her to be. The amount of times she had tripped or dropped a bucket while cleaning was enough to count on two hands. It seemed to you as if she wasn’t used to the apparel she now wore everyday which struck you as a bit odd, but you truly didn’t put any more thought into it. If anything, you found her slip ups pretty adorable for someone so tall and quiet.

“What do I do with them?” You heard Mizu ask, snapping you out of your thoughts almost immediately. You looked towards the dark haired women, quickly noticing the now entirely full plate. She had minced every single thing you had given her and it was clear that she was eagerly waiting for more.

“Oh, just set those aside for now. Here take this.” You instructed, handing her a small bowl of spices as you grabbed the stacked plate of vegetables.

“Just add a pinch into the pot while I try and find…” Your voice trailed off as you continued to search the area for your missing utensils. You could’ve sworn you had placed a ladle out along with the rest of your ingredients. You turned every which way, not seeing it anywhere as you placed the plate down and stood up. You looked back at Mizu who was holding a now empty bowl of spices, but this fact had gone completely unnoticed by you.

“You can add a few of those in, I just need to go and find a ladle.” You said, pointing at what Mizu needed to do next before walking off. Once you had quickly found the utensil you had needed you returned to the room to find Mizu now holding three barren spice containers. This time you indeed noticed.

Your eyes widened as you looked towards Mizu, then the pot, then back at Mizu who was just looking at you with a blank stare. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as you thought, there's a possibility she might’ve just added the right amount and… the rest just disappeared.

You knelt down near the pot, carefully stirring the soupy concoction with your new found ladle, and very carefully gave it a small sip.

Your face very quickly contorted into a sour grimace as you placed the ladle down. You noticed how Mizu’s blank stare very quickly turned to disappointment and you immediately felt horrible, despite the whole situation truly not being that big of a deal.

“I should’ve been more descriptive.” You reassured Mizu, she had told you she never cooked before so you probably should’ve taken more caution when instructing her.

“Is it fixable?” She asked, looking towards the plate of vegetables with a hopeful gaze.

“As much as I want to approve that idea, those aren’t going to fix this.” You joked, earning a bit of a pout from the woman. You snickered a bit at her reaction, before handing her some water. “This should dilute it a bit.” You offered, handing her the bowl. Just as she was about to pour the water in you stopped her, having thought of a harmless yet still annoying prank. You grabbed a separate bowl and poured some of the non-diluted soup in, then told Mizu to continue pouring the water in. She watched you set the bowl aside with pure confusion before adding more water.

“What’s that bowl for?” She asked, now putting the empty bowl down.

“Don’t worry about it. Now where are the vegetables?” You questioned, it wasn't exactly directed at Mizu, it was more or less just you speaking aloud. You both search around the very small area taken up by your cooking materials before you spotted them. You reached for them with haste but you hadn't realized that Mizu had too. She had managed to put her hand on the side of the plate before you had, so you ended up lightly grazing her hand with your own. You immediately retracted your hand, not wanting the moment to linger, but at the same time there was some part in you that did.

You very quickly just chalked it up to an intrusive thought, afterall you were not going to make moves on your brother's wife, you accidentally touched hands, it was nothing more than that, calm down.

So that's what you did, you retracted your hand and paid no mind to the action as if it had never happened before telling Mizu to throw the vegetables into the broth. She nodded, doing just as she was told, and dumped them in and as if by some miracle, the food began to smell really good, just the way it should.

While you both waited for the food to finish cooking, you thought it a good time to just talk to the woman.

“So… How are you and Mikio getting along?” You asked, turning to Mizu who was now blankly staring at her hands that were placed carefully on her lap. You could sense the inner turmoil on whether or not she should answer truthfully, so you decided to help her out a bit.

“If you wish to speak ill of my brother, trust me I won’t be mad.” You began to reassure her lightheartedly. “I guarantee that your complaints would equal mine.” You continued, earning an acknowledging smile from her.

“I don’t think he likes me all that much.” She admitted quietly as if she was ashamed to have said so. You looked towards her with a bit of pity evident in your gaze, not because you pitied her not being liked by Mikio, but because you pitied her for even valuing his opinion of her in the first place. You had to remind yourself, she is his wife now so it would only be natural for her to want him to at least show some approval of her. That only made his current treatment of her even more upsetting in your eyes.

“I’d say not to pay him any mind, he’s just a grouchy old man who doesn’t see potential in anything that wont get him back his honor.” You explained, sounding as if you were joking but you both knew you werent.

“Has he always been this way?” She asked, turning towards you a bit more to show her interest in your response. You smiled a bit, not looking up at her as you told her,

“No. He used to be very kind and patient, I’m sure you would’ve loved him had you met him before… but now? Ever since he lost his title he’s been so hellbent on regaining his honor that he truly doesn’t care about much else.” You rambled slightly, your hand balling into a fist a bit as you clutched onto the fabric of your clothes, trying not to let yourself get lost in the emotions of what was. As much as you missed the old Mikio, you knew even then he still had his flaws. You remembered vividly how he refused to teach you anything related to fighting, he claimed it was too dangerous but once you had argued it was more dangerous for you to not know how to defend yourself, he dropped the topic entirely and avoided you any time you would try and bring it up again.

That’s why you were so intrigued when you found out that Mizu was able to fight. You had hoped to one day work up the courage and ask her to teach you because you knew, especially by this point, your brother was in no position to change his mind. You figured now was not the best time to ask as you looked up to the woman whose brilliant blue eyes were staring back at you, a sympathetic expression on her face.

“Well, at least you know if you ever get tired of dealing with him, you can always come and find me.” You smiled at her, trying to cover up any negative feelings you might have let slip while thinking about your brother. You wanted her to get to know him for herself and make that decision on her own. The last thing Mizu needed was someone telling her how horrible her husband is, after she had just married him, that was sure to go south fast.

Mizu gave you a small smile before turning back to the boiling pot which definitely smelled like it was ready. Very eager to try her first guided attempt at cooking, Mizu began to pour out the soup mixture into different bowls.

You, however, had kept the bowl with leftover undiluted soup and purposefully placed it down where Mikio always sat.

It hadn't taken long for both Mikio and Mizu’s mother to join you two at the table, both of them just as eager to eat as you and Mizu were. Before you ate however, you made a point to Mikio that,

“Yours is a special recipe, I just wanted to try something different than usual.”

Making sure to keep any of the blame for the tastefully challenged meal off of Mizu. Both Mizu and Mikio looked towards you, the same lack of certainty spread across their faces as they looked towards Mikio’s bowl. It didn’t look too much different from the rest of the dishes, but the moment Mikio placed the bowl to his lips and took not even a full second of a taste, he knew what was wrong. His face scrunched just as yours had done when you originally tasted the extremely strong broth. He immediately placed the bowl down, trying to suppress the urge to cough or spit it out to not look bad in front of Mizu and her mother. You watched on in glee as he proceeded to make himself look like an idiot, all while he sent an unrelenting glare your way.

“I see you must have forgotten a few steps.” Mikio muttered through several coughs. You merely smiled, very cheekily one might add, at the man before commenting,

“I guess you’re just not strong enough to handle that taste.” You shrugged before sipping your own food, which evidently tasted much better than his. He knew you were trying to get under his skin, the worst part in his eyes, was that it was working. He knew you were upset, he knew you didn’t like the way he had been acting, but he also believed he knew what was for the best. He believed if he continued working everything would go back to the way it was and then you would no longer have a reason to be so petty towards him. He wasn’t ready to be swayed on his thinking, so he wouldn’t be.

The three of you ate in peace before Mikio fully placed his bowl down and stood up, claiming that he had more work to finish up before leaving the room in silence. Mizu looked towards the door the man had just walked out of. Her expression wasn’t easy to read but she definitely didn’t exactly seem sad that he had left. She then turned to you, gesturing to Mikio’s now abandoned plate and asked,

“What was that for?”

“Just… some sibling rivalry. Nothing really.” You answered. It wasn’t exactly a lie. In a way you were rivals but you just hadn’t realized how yet.

#x reader #mizu blue eye samurai #fanfiction #unoislazy #mizu x reader #mizu come home the kids miss you #bes mizu #blue eye samurai fanfic #blue eye samurai x reader #x female y/n #x female reader #x fem!reader #mizufics #mizubrainrot #mizu x you #mizu bes #mizu fanfic #mizu #blue eye samurai #blue eyed samurai #x readers #xreader fanfic

[yrluvjane]

thankyou for writing the req. it was so so so sweet. i have like so many ideas, i love that you wanted more. like we know our dear Jamie is a simp, right? like in the best way of course. how about a reader who could give James a run for his money? like it's well known that she flirts with everyone and never means it. it's kind of her personality. very James coded actually. like she looks like she's a little in love with all her friends. and our boy cannot figure out if she likes him or is just being her usual self.

Send them all! Even if I can't write them, I die just reading them! It's a bit late I'm so sorry darling, i had my exams and i just finished them today.

You've always been popular, always the life of the party, always the center of attention. No matter where you went, people always seem to gravitate towards you, drawn to your charismatic charm and energy. And you can't help but be flattered, of course. It's always nice to have so many friends, and so many admirers.

James was always amazed at how you interacted with others, making everyone feel special in their own way.

It's the way you can make everyone feel like the center of attention, the way you can bring out the best in people, the way you can make everyone in the room laugh. It's like you're the master of all social skills. You could chat up a stranger in an elevator, make them feel like a friend in minutes.

At first, James was reluctant to admit - to himself and others - that there may be a chance he was developing feelings for you. He thought it was just another example of your natural charm, but as time went on, he realized that he was falling hard. He always found himself seeking you out at every party or event, hoping to spend just a few more minutes in your company. He found himself longing for your laughter, your smile, your touch.

But then, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy whenever he saw you smiling at someone else or laughing at their joke. He wanted to be the one who made you smile, who made you laugh.

In the beginning, it was subtle. James would always find ways to touch you - small caresses, quick grazes - to grab your attention, to make you feel special.

He would laugh at your jokes, even the bad ones.

And yet, he could never quite figure out if you felt the same.

And then, one day, he asked you on a date.

James hesitated at first, afraid of what the answer might be, but then he thought of the regret he would feel if he didn't take the chance.

You said yes.

But even then, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. You were always flirtatious, and James didn't know if your yes was genuine or simply a continuation of your open personality.

"What if she doesn't actually like me? What if she thinks i just meant like a friend-date?"

Sirius scoffed, "James, don't be ridiculous. She wouldn't have said yes if she didn't want to go on out with you. And I wouldn't be anywhere near here if I thought all this preparing would be a waste of time. You can't back out now, you've been waiting months for this!"

James wasn't sure if were months but yeah maybe he was counting down the days to this. He had carefully selected his outfit, making sure everything was just right. And he had prepared himself for the date, researching the perfect conversation topics and making sure he had a backup plan in case the conversation ran dry. He's tongue has gone awfully numb from the amount of minty breath spray he'd sprayed and fingers aching from running them through his hair all the time.

He turned and looked himself in the mirror jumping lightly on his heels. "I've got this," James told himself. "I can be confident, charismatic, and charming - just like I am in every other aspect of my life." He rolled back his shoulders.

Sirius stared at his friend in amusement, as James continued his self-motivation. "I'm awesome. I'll show her that."

James faced his friend with a new found confidence, "I'm ready!" He declared as though he would be walking into battle.

"That's the spirt, Prongsie!...Where are you going?"

"To wait for her."

"There's still an hour left."

"What if she arrives early? First impressions are very important. Can't have her think I'm some tardy twat." James smiled and winked at his friend as he walked through the door.

#marauders era #james potter #james potter x reader #harry potter x reader #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #harry potter #james potter drabble #james potter fluff #james potter blurb

[lume-nosity]

in your thoughts

they’ve been thinking about you recently..

ft: xiao, kazuha, wanderer

style: fluff

notes: gn!reader, not proofread

reblogs are appreciated!

xiao

‘you speak of [name]? don’t utter their name so casually. they’re someone of great importance to me and i…respect them, to the highest degree. even though my karmic debt cannot be cured with mortal remedies, they’re persistent in easing my karma in any way they can regardless of the odds. they’ve never left me and they trusted me, so in return i give them my protection. hm? do not give me that look. what i’m doing is simply out of my own volition and a token of gratitude as you mortals call it. unfortunately it’s getting late, so i’ll escort you.’

kaedehara kazuha

‘ah, they’re an interesting one aren’t they? their presence alone is enough to brighten up a room and uplift one’s spirits. they’ve even lifted my own spirits by accompanying me on the majority of my travels. the talents and hobbies that they excel in are commendable and worthy of an infinite amount of words of praise. to be honest, i’m a little envious of their prowess. but that doesn’t change the fact that i admire them greatly. traveler, please send them my regards the next time you see them on your journey.’

wanderer

‘[name]? if you’re asking me about them for the sake of engaging in small talk to quell the silence then there’s not much to say. what? were you expecting me to go on and on about them? you really should lower your expectations, that’s for sure. i don’t have to disclose any information about them, so don’t try to coax it out of me or something. but judging from the look on your face, you do want to hear my opinions about them. well, i guess all i can say is that they’re.. tolerable. and amusing. huh, what’s with the face? be grateful that i’ve told you a snippet of what i thought about them.’

an: i know the format/colors look wonky and they don’t fit together (it’s because i currently have a trailblazer theme at the moment, please bear with me) but the good thing is i’m slowly but surely crawling out of my writer’s block! also tysm for 500 followers! i haven’t checked my follower count for ages, as you can already tell. so consider this as a sort of celebration for that because i am very much lazy.

#✏️ lume writes #genshin #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x gn reader #genshin fluff #genshin impact fluff #xiao x reader #xiao fluff #kazuha x reader #kaedehara kazuha x reader #kazuha fluff #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #scaramouche fluff #wanderer fluff

[ironmandeficiency]

stupid goose

pairing: fíli / hobbit!reader

word count: 2953

summary: a goose followed fili into erebor and refused to leave

a/n: this has taken over my brain

no one knew where that damn demon bird came from. all anyone knew is that when fíli returned from the markets of dale one day, he was trailed by a goose. this goose demanded in very angry honks to be let into erebor right behind the golden prince, and despite every attempt made to shoo the thing outside, the goose remained.

it honked during council meetings, entertained some of the young pebbles that had returned to erebor with their families, and generally caused a disturbance everywhere it waddled. fíli took to naming his new pet trøbbel, and he grew to appreciate the feathered chaos harbinger.

thorin couldn’t stand the damn thing. it would flap and honk and nip at him at the most odd times, namely when he was scolding his nephews. the king under the mountain was halfway convinced that fíli trained it to behave so.

the days turned to weeks, weeks into months, and trøbbel stuck around through it all. he was a common companion, and a very proper one indeed. eventually he learned some semblance of patience; the standard amount of patience in geese was alarmingly similar to the patience of dwarves.

trøbbel definitely lived up to his name, so much so that when bilbo sent word that he was planning a springtime visit to the mountain in a few months’ time, multiple correspondents thought it fit to warn their burglar about the newest addition.

“dear bilbo,

the company is delighted to hear of your pending visit to the mountain! many things have changed for the better since uncle was crowned king (not his temper, unfortunately for us all). everyone is looking forward to seeing you again, though i do carry a warning with this letter.

you see, a few months ago i involuntarily acquired a wild goose as a companion. he made himself known to me after leaving dale one afternoon and rather violently refused to be parted from my side.

this goose is a mighty beast that honks and bites diplomats (dwalin never loved him more than when he nipped at thranduil upon first glance of the elf) and steals food from the plates of those not paying attention. i warn you because trøbbel is very suspicious of new people, and i don’t want you falling victim to his wiles if he finds that you don’t have snacks for him upon arrival.

see you soon,

prince fíli”

bilbo was baffled. he was confuddled, stupefied even. how in yavanna’s green gardens fíli ended up with a goose was beyond his reckoning. the last time he heard of a goose forcing its way into someone’s life in this manner was being told the story of how his parents met when he was a wee fauntling.

it was a somewhat rare phenomenon among hobbits to be found by a goose in such a way. they were said to guide hobbits to their soulmates, the other half of their soul as created by lady yavanna. the goddess had to create an animal stubborn enough to aid her hobbit children in finding their soulmates, one that could easily navigate the hills and rivers of their lands, and the goose was her solution.

even though erebor was no west farthing, bilbo could imagine that any goose worth its tail feathers would find a way to survive in the lonely mountain. and, based on the letter he just read, one has.

taking into consideration the thing’s audacity, that bird of fíli’s is definitely a soulmate goose, and a right bugger at that.

the first thing he now had to do was inform fortinbras of this development. as thain and cousin, bilbo was sure that he could find some sound advice there.

now, if bilbo could figure out how to explain that fíli has a hobbit for a soulmate without putting thorin and balin into their deathbeds, that would be just peachy.

“HONK! HONK HONK!”

“i cannot believe you, tansy!”

“HONK!”

“yeah you better run, you wretched thing!”

tansy the goose had to be the biggest pain in the backside you’ve ever met, and that’s saying something considering the run-ins you’ve had with the bracegirdles.

she followed you to the markets, when you went on walks among the meadows and fields, and even snuck into the washroom to be there when you bathed. in your opinion, it was all a bit too much.

your tansy gave the wizard gandalf a run for his money when it came to disturbing the peace. on days you went to the market, she would follow you and honk all the way at passersby and intimidate them off the dirt path you were on.

she also picked up a very peculiar habit of trying to (and sometimes succeeding to) snag fine jewelry from the booths of dwarrow traveling through from the blue mountains. every time you would turn and see a shiny glint of silver or gold hanging from her beak, your heart would drop to your feet in fear. thus far, the merchants you’ve encountered were very understanding of your feathery thief and harbored no ill will against you as you returned their wares to the tune of an angry goose.

while those situations were mortifying and anxiety-inducing, you’ve reached the end of your rope today. tansy has committed a grievous sin by brutalizing your blackberry patch to the point of there being almost nothing left worth eating and you’ve had it up to your ears with her.

you chased her with a wooden spoon as you ranted about her foul deed and resolved to talk to someone about what to do about tansy the chaos goose. maybe the thain would have some advice?

“uncle! we’ve got a reply from bilbo!” kíli waved the letter in the air excitedly as he barged into his uncle’s chambers.

fíli follows kíli in, rolling his eyes as he snatches the parchment from his brother’s hand. “no, i got a reply from bilbo.”

the golden prince makes no mention of the second page bilbo wrote to him with explicit instructions to keep it to himself. that morsel of information was for him and him alone - well, for him and trøbbel, of course.

“hurry up and read it!”

“i would if you’d stop flapping about like trøbbel!”

in response to being compared to kíli (or maybe just hearing his name), trøbbel honked indignantly.

“dearest fíli,

it pleases me greatly to know that erebor is flourishing under your uncle’s rule. i am most excited to see you all again, especially in the comforts of your home.

while i thank you for your warning, i have some news of my own to share. there will be a hobbitess accompanying me on my trip-“

thorin cut off his nephew, his bright mood upon receiving bilbo’s correspondence immediately clouding over. “he’s bringing a hobbit lass?” the king’s thoughts immediately sour with thoughts of his burglar introducing the company to a spouse wooed by his tales of adventure.

both brothers caught the sudden wave of melancholy that surged through their uncle. his feelings for bilbo were a poorly-kept secret among the company, but there were none who had the courage to call attention to it.

“you’re almost as bad as kee with interrupting me,” fíli chastised before clearing his throat to continue.

“-there will be a hobbitess accompanying me on my trip that shares in your feathered predicament. with the description you gave me of your trøbbel, i’d bet all of my fourteenth share that he’d get along swimmingly with her tansy. she’s a menace, that one.”

“see uncle, you can remove that frown! bilbo isn’t courting anyone back in the shire!” kíli interjected with a small smile and an elbow nudge, hoping to goad thorin back into a good mood.

fíli sighed the sigh of a long-suffering older brother. “this is exactly what i mean when i talk about you interrupting me, kee!”

“but he was sad!”

“and i’m annoyed!”

“boys!”

one word put the squabbling siblings back in line.

“sorry, uncle.”

“do continue, fíli.”

“i send this letter ahead of me from bree. i hope you receive it in proper time so you can prepare the mountain for the impending doom that will be brought upon by two geese occupying erebor.

if you note the bite marks in bottom right corner and the occasional blots of stray ink on the parchment, those are courtesy of tansy. she sends her well wishes along with mine.

your burglar,

bilbo baggins”

thorin looks at trøbbel where he’s squatted directly on top of thorin’s favorite bedpillow like the cruel beast he is. the smug bastard has a wicked gleam in his eye as if he knows he’ll soon have a partner in crime to terrorize the whole mountain alongside.

oh mahal, please watch over this mountain.

erebor was teeming with anticipation, both for the arrival of the famed dragonriddler and for the next act of war from trøbbel. for nigh on three weeks, the royal bird has been eerily well-behaved. this was so out of character that fíli carried his companion to óin in the hopes the healer could figure out what malady had struck his friend.

there was nothing obvious to blame for the sudden silence of the royal bird, so the healer told fíli to watch over his bird and take as good care of him as possible.

he didn’t know much of anything about geese, so he simply opted to treat his companion like kíli when he was sick.

a cozy new bed was constructed, fíli monitored his food, and things seemed to be getting better. trøbbel slowly came back to his regular gremlin self, causing chaos that was mildly tamer than before.

at least the mountain didn’t get too comfortable without his shenanigans, because when bilbo arrived with his companion and their goose, all hell broke loose.

“hmm,” bilbo hummed to himself as he observed tansy sitting demurely on her designated pillow. she’d been oddly calm today, as if she knew where her company was going.

when bilbo explained the significance of tansy’s appearance in your life, you were flabbergasted. the idea of true soulmates was a sweet one yet painfully unrealistic in your eyes, something you read in bedtime stories. but with both bilbo and thain fortinbras’s confirmation that you received a soulmate goose from yavanna, you couldn’t deny it any longer.

then bilbo claimed he knew your soulmate and had fought alongside him against trolls and goblins and orcs and a dragon. he told you that he was rather fond of the dwarves of erebor, and that they were rambunctious and honorable.

but when he spoke of king thorin, the uncle of your soulmate, something was decidedly different from how he spoke of the rest of the company he kept. you could see the way his body visibly relaxed, how his eyes were softer and the appearance of pink on the tips of his ears.

your friend clearly held something more than respect for the dwarf king.

one night around the campfire, you told tansy about your suspicions. for a hooligan goose, she was a rather good conversationalist.

“i think bilbo loves that king of his, tansy.”

“HONK!”

“exactly! that’s what i was thinking!”

tansy honks back in response. living among hobbits, she seemed to pick up on some social etiquettes and right now, it was as if you were pleasantly chatting over afternoon tea.

you pondered what to do about this new development. bilbo was always seen as a bachelor, someone unattainable by shire standards. but just maybe, by the grace of yavanna, he’ll find his love in the heart of a king.

“say tansy,” a soft honk of acknowledgement came from your goose, “when you’re done leading me to my soulmate, can you help bilbo find his?”

in years to come, you will swear by the fact tansy nodded at you that evening by the fire.

“they’re here!”

“bilbo!”

“our burglar has returned!”

in the distance, they could see bilbo making his way towards the front entrance of erebor and unbridled joy swept through the company. how they’ve all missed their burglar in his absence from the mountain.

bard was walking alongside bilbo, who had dismounted from his pony when he entered dale and was guiding him along by the reins. at bilbo’s other side was another hobbit, presumably the lass he mentioned in his letter, and waddling with pride beside them was a goose wearing a red ribbon tied into a neat bow.

fíli made a break for the front gates as soon as the horn announcing bilbo’s arrival echoed through the crisp air. he genuinely missed bilbo and was plenty excited to meet the goose (and the hobbitess) described in his letters.

trøbbel dutifully followed behind his dwarf, waddling just fast enough to keep pace. at first. but in the distance, the royal goose of erebor heard a honk that resonated so deeply in him that he couldn’t dawdle with fíli, he had to go immediately.

his orange webbed feet pitter-pattered on the stone floors with the intensity of oliphaunts and the speed of rhosgobel rabbits, honking all the way. members of the company hollered after the speeding goose but trøbbel paid them no heed, far too focused on his destination.

“oi! trøbbel you mangy beast, get back here!”

“you ain’t beatin’ us to our burglar!”

the dwarves stood no chance at catching him, only following behind him like goslings in a rather lopsided row. apparently, trøbbel was going to beat them.

tansy was going to turn you grey long before your time if she had anything to say about it.

that wild beast of a bird strutted into dale with the attitude of the most pretentious hobbits in the west farthing, catching all sorts of strange looks from the big folk who never beheld such a human-acting animal. she honked and nodded to the growing crowd in greeting. you sighed at her antics but carried on, watching as bilbo’s entire countenance changed the closer he got to his dwarrow.

watching the entrance to the dwarven kingdom grow ever closer, you felt strangely lighter, almost as if you were coming home.

before you knew it, there was a stampede of dwarrow emerging from the front gates headed straight towards you and bilbo, led by a goose. logic told you that they were his friends from the journey, that they missed him more than you could imagine missing anyone.

but then tansy let out a screeching honk unlike anything you’ve ever heard in all your days. she immediately bolted for the feathered line leader, not even the slightest bit worried about being trampled by the pounding feet of dwarrow.

“tansy! tansy! oh you reckless fiend, you’re lucky i didn’t cook you on the way here!”

chasing after her was a terrible idea. instead, you elected to watch from beside your pony and hope for the best.

recalling bilbo’s stories, you could point out a few of his companions. bombur with his braided beard that weaves into itself, nori with the star points atop his head, thorin with his raven-colored hair…

the king of erebor was running like a hooligan towards bilbo at full speed, a wide smile on his face that bilbo led you to believe was a nigh impossible feat.

you nudge your friend with a smile, wondering why his feet weren’t going a mile a minute to reunite with his dwarf. “go to him,” you whispered. this seemed to spur him into action, bilbo making a mad dash for his king.

when thorin caught bilbo in a leaping embrace, their laughter was infectious. even tansy was honking joyously with them, echoed by another bit of loud honking you couldn’t place.

looking over, your tansy was nuzzling with the ereborian goose. they were waddling around each other inquisitively at first, then plopped down to the side of the path to watch the joyous reunion of king and burglar.

within moments, you realized what this meant: your soulmate was on his way. oh green gardens, you weren’t ready!

meeting your prince soulmate now, after a ragged journey across middle earth while covered in yavanna-knows-what, had your nerves vibrating with tension. your hands were clammy, eyes flitting around to spot him based on bilbo’s descriptions.

“trøbbel! oi you bugger, how dare you run ahead!”

you heard one voice clearly through the thicket of joyous bustling, and the entire world came to a screeching halt.

your soulmate wore a smile that could have blinded you, and his laughter put you in a tailspin. in the golden light of morning, his hair shone like the wheat fields you grew up playing in.

you had to be closer to him without another moment’s delay.

without your permission, your feet began to carry you into the growing crowd of dwarrow towards fíli. part of you wanted to dig your heels into the dirt because you didn’t know what to say to him! how did one even begin to introduce themselves to the person that the gods made to be their other half?

turns out you didn’t have to answer that question on your own.

in the time he spent on the road with bilbo, fíli learned quite a few pieces of important information about hobbits. they valued their food and their gardens, and placed great importance on flowers and their meanings. so when presented with his hobbit soulmate, he knew exactly how to make a good first impression.

presenting you a few sprigs of purple lilacs, he approached his one with a charming smile. “i imagine you’re starving from the trip here, love. would you like me to fetch you a warm meal straight from the royal kitchens?”

#fili durin x reader #fíli durin x reader #fíli durin #fili durin #the hobbit imagine #hobbit!reader #soulmate goose of enforcement #the hobbit fanfic #the hobbit fanfiction #fíli #fíli imagine #bagginshield #thorin oakenshield x bilbo baggins #bilbo baggins x thorin oakenshield

[bi-bard]

First Impressions - Hannibal Lecter Imagine [NBC's Hannibal]

Title: First Impressions

Pairing: Hannibal Lecter X Reader

Word Count: 937 words

Warning(s): none

Summary: Many knew the story of Hannibal's crime and arrest. However, the story of (Y/n) and Hannibal starts long before that. And the first to hear it was Dr. Bedelia Du Maurier.

Author's Note: I thought this would be more interesting than creating a simple story.

MORE OF THIS OC HERE!

------------------------

Hannibal and Bedelia's therapy sessions were far from the normal that Bedelia had known in her experience.

She would have loved to shrug such an observation off as simply her mind's immediate reaction to treating a colleague. However, she had to eventually dismiss such an idea.

This strangeness was something very different. Something about Hannibal was very different.

But she felt like she had few options other than continuing the man's therapy.

That day had been strange for an entirely different reason.

She had been sitting across from him for a while. Hannibal had fallen into some distracted silence.

"Something has captured your attention," she noted. "What is it?"

Hannibal let out a quiet chuckle before sitting up a bit straighter in his seat. "I'm afraid that 'it' is not an it, but a 'they'."

"A person," she replied. He nodded. "You meet new people almost every day. What makes this person so different?"

"For the first time, I cannot find the words to explain it," he continued. "They simply... are."

"I don't believe I have ever seen you speechless before."

Hannibal's grin grew just slightly.

It was a moment of pure honesty on his part.

It may have sounded harsh, but (Y/n) was nothing extraordinary. They seemed like every other person that had been around them at the time. Hannibal found trying to explain why they had so easily caught his eye similar to explaining to a toddler why one would need to go to bed at a reasonable time. So simple on the surface, yet seemingly more complicated when someone begins to question it further.

Maybe it had been (Y/n)'s kindness. They looked at everything around them with such genuine interest that it could've knocked the wind out of someone who looked in their eyes. They seemed so eager to help anyone. Hannibal could see that in the admittedly short amount of time that they spent together.

Maybe it was simply carried themselves. Their smile never seemed to dip. Hannibal felt childish for believing it, but he could've sworn that their eyes sparkled. There was something about their excitement that brought a sense of comfort. Hannibal thought it was affecting the whole room, but it could have just been him and he would've never been able to tell.

"How did you meet?"

His attention was suddenly turned back to Bedelia when she spoke. She tried to fight the knowing smile that so desperately wanted to show. She had never seen Hannibal in such a... distracted state, but she felt safe assuming the cause of it.

"At an art gallery," Hannibal replied.

"A guest?"

"An employee," he corrected.

"I see," she nodded. "Tell me about your... chance interaction."

"I had asked about a painting," he explained. He felt a need to avoid the specific details. He wanted those to be only his. "They told me about some small details. They seemed to cut themself off when they realized how many details they were sharing. They tried to apologize, but I was... intrigued."

"Was that the entire conversation?"

"No."

An amused smile formed.

"It feels strange to admit this, but I did continue pestering them while I was there," he continued. "I was curious about how much they knew."

"And?"

"The knowledge came from much more than simple education. It came from an interest that would have started a long time ago. Decades."

"Did you ask?"

"Yes," he nodded. "They told me that their mother was the reason that they knew so much."

"Many of us can unknowingly carry the habits and hobbies of our parents," Bedelia said. "The ones that we are aware of are arguably the most important."

"It would seem so," he replied.

"Please, continue your story."

"I watched them go around to help everyone else whenever needed. And then, they would come back and continue our conversation. As if there had never been an interruption in the first place.

"I promised to come back another day and continue our conversation."

"They seemed happy about the idea?"

"Yes."

Again, Bedelia had to fight that knowing smile.

Hannibal was smitten.

Intrigued and smitten could become mixed in the mind. Many could be misguided by mere intrigue. Hence why they would lose interest when the object of their affection had nothing left for them to learn about.

However, Hannibal never seemed to mix those thoughts together. He seemed entirely aware of the source of his thoughts. But this time, Bedelia could see the mix occurring in his mind. The question was whether or not he could also see the mix.

He could.

And he didn't mind it.

"What's their name," Bedelia asked.

"(Y/n)."

Hannibal almost said the name like it was made of glass. If he said it too harshly, it would shatter, and he would lose the right to speak it. That knowing smile was beginning to win the battle on Bedelia's face.

"What are you going to do when you see (Y/n) again?" she continued.

"Ask them more questions," he explained simply.

"Invite them to dinner?"

There was a small pause before Hannibal answered, "Perhaps."

She nodded.

Something about seeing Hannibal in such a state brought a sense of comfort. Like it provided evidence against a theory that Bedelia feared would be true.

"I'd like to hear about how your next interaction goes," she said. "To ensure that this becomes a healthy, fulfilling relationship in your life and theirs."

Hannibal nodded.

Bedelia decided then that she may be able to become comfortable with seeing Hannibal in such a state for a while.

This was a kind of strange that she could make sense of. 

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#hannibal imagine #hannibal fanfiction #hannibal x reader #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal lecter imagine #hannibal lecter fanfiction #imagine #fanfiction #x reader #mads mikkelsen imagine #mads mikkelsen x reader #mads mikkelsen fanfiction #bedelia du maurier imagine #bedelia du maurier fanfiction #bedelia du maurier x reader

[argisthebulwark]

d’you think any of our faves (bryn, teldryn, miraak, Erik, honestly whoever you wanna talk abt because I just like seeing your thoughts) would trek up high hroth if the LDB got injured after the main quest. like ‘cannot get down this shitfuck mountain’ injured. i am a sucker for the ‘person taking care of their injured partner’ trope I will admit.

OOOH this is interesting. i like this. Sorry if i write too much, gonna put it under a cut just in case.

it's sfw, just long. the fellas included are: Erik, Vilkas, Brynjolf & Teldryn. if there's anyone you think i missed pls let me know i actually really liked writing this!

edit: the last two fellas aren't showing up for a lot of people because tumblr is a good website. i added them here!

Erik would absolutely trek his ass up that mountain. He'd probably try to take on one too many frost trolls and end up with a minor injury himself but hey, he made it in one piece. If his timing was bad enough he might even have Klimmek's pack slung over one shoulder. "Hi honey." He'd kneel before the bed the Greybeards had lent you, hand running through your hair. His heart would twist at the state of you - blood staining the armor he'd helped buckle you into, bruises of all shades covering your arms. But he'd keep the smile on his face because that glimmer in your eye makes it all worth it. "You're here." You'd get choked up at the state of him - cheeks bright red from the chilly air, every inch of him wrapped in mismatched layers, that familiar smile on his face. "You came all the way here." "Anything for you." He'd kiss your hand, noting the swollen state of your wrist. "You know that." He'd try to not treat you any differently. He knew what it felt like to be coddled and didn't want you to feel like that. Instead he walked you through the stretches and helped you regain your health bit by bit, filling you in on what had happened in your absence. He'd still be in awe that he was allowed to love the Dragonborn, that you'd helped him fulfill what he felt was his destiny. He would absolutely carry you back down the mountain without a second thought. As soon as the Greybeards assured him that you were well enough to move he'd swaddle you into every layer of clothing he'd hauled up, lift you onto his back and remind you to hold on tight.

Vilkas would roll his eyes when someone informed him that you'd gone after the World Eater alone. He couldn't count the amount of times he'd told you to take help - you were a Companion after all, you needed backup. But no, you'd gone off alone to get yourself killed. Despite all his grumbling he'd find himself stomping up that god damned mountain. He consoled himself by counting each stair he found, intent on learning whether or not there truly were seven thousand blasted steps. He'd ignore the growing worry gnawing at his chest until he found himself face to face with the ancient stone doors grinding open just for him. When he stepped inside the frigid building he'd maintain the façade - allowing the Greybeards to lead him to where you rested, leg propped up and covered in bandages. The urge to tell them how poorly they'd taken care of you gave way when he heard the shock in your voice as you said his name. "You're surprised?" He'd snort, edging into the bed beside you. He told himself that it was merely to check on the state of you, nothing to do with the relief he felt when you curled closer to him. "This isn't the first time I've had to collect you." During the nights when sleep evaded you he would remind you what awaited back at Jorrvaskr; the crackling fire that would keep you warm, the comfortable bed, the friendly faces, the good food. He would find himself dozing off with your head on his chest while he talked of home. He'd stay with you until he was sure you were well enough to make it down, reminding you to keep an arm around his shoulder. When you flashed him one of those looks that drove him mad, the one that left his heart fluttering in the most obnoxious way, he'd remind you to mind the icy stairs.

Brynjolf would be out of the Cistern in an instant. He'd already grieved you once and wasn't willing to do it again. As soon as the courier arrived with an explanation of your situation he'd be shouting instructions at Delvin and Vex and throwing everything he owned into a backpack. He'd arrive in the dead of night. Moonlight guided him up the mountain and allowed him to stay out of the way of most beasts. Terror would be with him every step of the way - the snow, the hike, the fear of losing you, it was all too familiar. The fear would be choking him every step of the way, refusing to stop or rest until he could see you once again. He'd arrive a shivering mess, barely hearing Arngeir's explanation of what had transpired. He didn't care where you'd gone, all that mattered was that you were still breathing. "Bryn." He'd hate the shock in your voice as if you hadn't expected him to show up. He couldn't respond, merely falling into bed beside you. He would be mindful of your injuries when his fingers trailed along your body over and over, reassuring himself that you were whole, you were safe. "I don't think I've ever seen you this far from home before." "Anywhere for you, lass." He'd breathe into your scratchy blanket, pulling you in close to his chest. "To the ends of the world." He wouldn't take a single chance with your health. Even after the Greybeards insisted that you were well enough to walk he'd insist on doing most of the work, allowing you to walk only once the snow and ice thinned and he could see the grass again. Even when you stood on your own two feet his hands would never be far away.

Teldryn would grumble about the snow reminding him too much of Windhelm but he would do it. He'd have to layer extra clothes under his armor to fight off that god awful wind chill but he'd do it. He'd gotten the feeling that something was wrong when he didn't hear from you - you always checked in with him. That old panic from his last patron would nag at him. He couldn't bear the thought of losing you too, not after all you'd been through together, the feelings you'd blurted out for him one night after one too many drinks or that smile you saved just for him. "Couldn't help yourself, could you?" He'd tease, kicking the pack full of your clothes toward your bed. He would relish in the shock written across your bruised face for just a moment. "I've followed you across continents and you're surprised I show up here? Give me a little more credit, sera." "I'm so glad to see you, Tel." His heart would ache at the teary tone of your voice. He'd give up the teasing and sit down on the edge of your bed, carefully checking over the battered state of your body. Finally that anxiety would lessen when he knew you were safe, he wasn't going to lose you. He would joke about making you carry him down the mountain when you were finally stable enough to leave. When you rolled your eyes at him and hobbled toward the steps he would remove the heaviest pieces of his armor and allow you to clamber onto his back. He'd relish in the press of your lips to his throat and the way you squeezed around him through every complaint about the snow and ice. "Let's retire to Solstheim." He'd smile at the words you speak against his shoulder, fingers clutching the front of his sweater. "I'll buy that empty house in Raven Rock and we'll never do anything or go anywhere ever again." "Sounds good to me, love."

#beloved mutuals #asks #writing #skyrim #erik the slayer #vilkas #brynjolf #miraak #teldryn sero #farkas

[kiwiraccoon]

Our Own Story

Read To Me pt. 2

Yunho x reader

Description: Read To Me Pt. 2: “Put the book away, let’s write our own story tonight.” Yunho doesn’t hold back anymore, he’s waited long enough. Your story has been a slow burn, he’s tired of the glances, fluff moments, and boring nights thinking about what if.

Word Count: 1117 (unintentional)

Warnings: MDNI, female pleasuring (not descriptive), borderline smut (first time writer), petnames, dom!yunho x sub!femreader

part one

You set the book on your bedside table letting your need and desire completely take over your mind, you didn’t realize how deprived of touch you were until this very moment. His hands remained in their place, one dangerously slipping underneath the hem of your shorts and the other holding him up by his elbow while his hand softly touched the exposed skin of your stomach. “Yun, what-“

“Shhh baby, don’t ruin our story.” He says the moment our eyes meet, I can see the same desire I feel swimming through his innocent yet dangerous eyes. The heat from his body surrounds my being like a warm blanket, heating me all the way to my very core. We’ve spent so many times laying in the same bed just enjoying each other’s company, it’s all we needed to feel content. Now I know I won’t feel content until his body is connected with mine in a way neither of us have experienced together.

We would be breaking down a wall that would no longer leave us stuck on opposite sides of roommates. “Are you sure?”

He chuckles at my question, “I should be asking you that.” He takes a moment to scoot a little closer, invading my space in an intimate way that sends fire burning through every vein in my body. “Baby, are you sure?”

Not breaking the intense eye contact between us I move to push the blanket away from my skin, removing that wall myself, I refuse to let it get in the way any longer. I never wanted it there in the first place. “Write our story Yun, make the words on the page come to life please.”

He wastes no time in moving his hand from my thigh up my body to the side of my face to hold it tenderly while he leans in to connect our lips. The feeling is so much more than what the stories say. It’s not just fireworks or butterflies, no it’s euphoria, bursts of serotonin, complete and utter happiness, and the perfect amount of ecstasy.

The world around us disappears into nothingness, a void of darkness to swarm us in the moment that we both have been waiting so long for. He craved me almost as much as I craved him, and I would prove that. I move my hand to wrap around his neck, tangling my fingers into his hair to give slight tugs at random times. Our kiss grew stronger with my actions, and when I heard the sound he made my whole body lit on fire.

The flames dance under my skin tickling spots with a needle like feeling to shock my nerves to life. I wouldn’t believe anyone who told me I was alive at this moment, I feel as if my soul is a million miles away in a paradise someone can only dream about.

His hand on my stomach moves up my skin under my shirt more at a pace that leaves whimpers escaping my throat to be swallowed by his kisses. I can feel the electricity building underneath my skin following his touch. It burns like the most beautiful bonfire underneath the perfect sunset of orange and purple skies.

I never believed I would feel the words I had read in so many different versions on pages from various books. But here I was having a book start something I had only dreamed about.

Yunho moves his mouth from mine against the skin of my jaw and down my neck to my collarbone. I can’t begin to explain the sensation I feel from his lip on my skin, it’s like I can see and understand paradise without knowing exactly what it means to me, it feels other worldly but that world isn’t known. I can but cannot explain the complete fulfillment. It makes all the sense in the world but my brain cannot wrap around it.

His hands make pleasure seem as if it wasn’t the easiest thing to bring to myself when in reality any other hands could never, mine absolutely could not. My conscious mind was only on the feelings and sensations he gave me, yet I still failed to realize he had moved his hands lower. One hand holding my side still in a comforting yet strong grasp, exuding dominance with a splash of care and comfort. 

“Tell me how you feel.” I hardly register the words in my broken and fading mind. His voice held a rasp that made my legs squeeze tight around his one hand. Though he wasn’t having it as he used that hand to push my right leg down to the mattress with a firm grasp on my thigh. “Tell me, not show me.”

“Oh god,” was all I breathlessly said, not knowing exactly how to form a sentence. All he had done was kiss and touch me and here I was completely losing my sanity.

His chuckle makes my eyes land on him. He lowers his head to my chest as he chuckles before he looks up and makes direct eye contact with me. The few seconds of silence make my world feel like it’s ready to implode. Who he is now is not the cute puppy I want to squeeze and cuddle for hours on end. No this is a dog, one ready to pounce. “God?” He lets out a small chuckle again. “No, say my name baby.”

He pleases me in a way I’ve never felt before with just his hand making me take in a sharp breath and hold it in. I suck in my lips to bite down on them as I whimper louder than I have tonight. He gives me more and more, pushing my limits and making stars appear behind my closed eyes.

I can feel the pressure building in my core as it tries to break free from its hold, the walls cracking and bending against their will. The second his lips touch my skin again I can feel the walls give in, “Yunho!”

“That’s it baby, that’s my name. Say it again.” And I do a few times letting him know he was the one that caused my undoing that ripped the sounds from my throat and reached my core so easily. 

Seconds pass before my consciousness comes back to me and I pull Yunho closer to me into a cuddling position we both love sleeping in. “Yun?”

“Yeah?” He asks while he tugs me in closer to him.

“What did we just do?”

His chuckles brings a smile to my face, making me dig my face into his chest to hide any embarrassment I feel. “That was only the beginning baby.”

#Jeong Yunho #Ateez yunho #Yunho x reader #Yunho #Yunho fic #Yunho imagine #Ateez #Ateez fic #Ateez imagine

[imagine-knowing-a-name]

wish i’d never grown up

Summary: Natasha adopted you as a baby, and now she gets to see you grow up

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x daughter!Reader

Word Count: 2586

Warnings: Angst. Endgame canon compliant

A/N: Was writing fluff. Taylor Swift came on. This happened instead. Anyway if it isn’t clear, based on and including lyrics from Never Grow Up by Taylor Swift, and the text in quotation marks is Natasha talking.

—————————————————

“I had no clue what I was doing. A baby was never in my plans, never in my training-”

Your little hands wrapped around my finger And it's so quiet in the world tonight

“-but from my first moments with you, I knew I was going to learn. For you.”

Your little eyelids flutter 'cause you're dreaming So I tuck you in, turn on your favourite nightlight

One of your first memories, so mundane, a fragmented clip of when she laid the blanket over you, and pulled you back into the realm of consciousness just long enough to feel a soft press of lips to your forehead. The loop repeated, but the other senses took priority, you could still hear the click of the nightlight, the warmth of her embrace, you could practically still feel her arms around you, keeping you safe.

To you, everything's funny You got nothing to regret I'd give all I have, honey If you could stay like that

You had no idea then, but you knew now, everything your mother carried with her. Countless lifetimes’ worth of choices and actions she never should have been forced to take, all of which she kept from you, too fearful of what might happen if she exposed you to any of it. You could imagine it now, everything she had to bear, the permanent sorrow in her eyes even as she laughed along with you, the marks on her features that would never fade, no matter how often you caused her to smile. A decade would pass before you’d learn about the childhood she had survived; before you learnt that she had never been as carefree as you had been in that moment. That she was never allowed to be.

Oh, darling, don't you ever grow up Don't you ever grow up, just stay this little Oh, darling, don't you ever grow up Don't you ever grow up, it could stay this simple

“I’d never seen someone so innocent, so free from life’s scars. Like my own little Pandora, you radiated hope with every smile and brought joy back into my world. I’d seen so much, but none of it with a perspective like yours. With you, I could experience the world again, live another life and spend it all with you. And I could protect you, do everything I could so you would never experience the life I led before you.”

I won't let nobody hurt you Won't let no one break your heart And no one will desert you Just try to never grow up Never grow up

She protected you from hurt, but a life cannot be lived without some scrapes and bruises. You got plenty of those in the physical sense, climbing and running and playing, but a kiss and a band-aid from your mother, maybe even some encouraging words, and everything was better. You remembered the first time a wound scarred, you’d been so worried when weeks passed and it still didn’t match your skin. You ran to her immediately, holding it out and sobbing. She took your arm in both hands, laying a kiss to your wound before wiping the tears from your eyes.

She’d knelt in front of you, lifting her sleeve to show her own scar, a pale blotch in just the same area. “We’re matching,” she’d told you, “it’s healed just the right amount, it’s a reminder of what you got through, but it’s not holding you back.”

—

“I can still remember your first scar, a little blotch on your left arm. You fell over in the playground and ran over, asking me to patch it up. We chose out your band aid together, you wanted the one with the dogs on, so that’s what you got. A few weeks later and you were running over again, crying about why it hadn’t healed. I showed you my own scar, and I think that was the first time you saw it - you were so shocked, I reckon you’d thought I was invincible. You ran away immediately when I said it wouldn’t heal - I thought I’d scared you - but you came running back with the band-aids, patching me up with a dog just so I would match you. You even pulled it in for a kiss, promising it would get better thanks to your help. Maybe that scar didn’t, but I am certain others started to heal that day.”

You're in the car on the way to the movies And you're mortified your mom's dropping you off At fourteen, there's just so much you can't do And you can't wait to move out someday and call your own shots

Your mother was famous… for all the wrong reasons. It had been fun for a bit after the Battle of New York, people recognised her as your mother, they all wanted to be your friend, pestering you with questions you were more than happy to answer. You were proud of your mum, and took every opportunity to talk about her, but the more they asked, the more you realised you didn’t know.

She’d explained it to you calmly after you confronted her about all the questions. She explained her past, her childhood, her job, only a slightly censored version to make sure it was appropriate for you to know. She knew none of it was appropriate for you, but it was an important part of her, and you wanted to know her, so she told you all the things she hoped to keep you safe from. 

Everyone found out a couple of years later anyway, when she leaked SHIELD’s documents about her. You hated the media frenzy, having to hear everyone at school discuss your mother in so much detail, some of them even reciting the media’s venomous words about her, and nothing you could do would change their minds. 

When your friends invited you to go watch a movie, you wanted a break from it all. To be dropped off by The Black Widow would just spark up the debate again and you couldn’t take it. Soon enough you’d be able to drive yourself, or maybe not live so far away from the city in the middle of nowhere, and you wouldn’t have to rely on your mum dropping you off everywhere. One day. You had to grow up first.

You asked to be dropped off around the corner, that way they wouldn’t see her. You hurried out the car, muttering a ‘will do’ in response to her ‘stay safe!’. With your eyes down, you didn’t notice the tears in hers, or the slight tremble in her voice.

But don't make her drop you off around the block Remember that she's getting older, too

“I didn’t have anything to miss while I grew up, nor anyone who would miss me. I had no warning that it was going to be this hard.”

And don't lose the way that you dance around In your PJs getting ready for school Oh, darling, don't you ever grow up Don't you ever grow up, just stay this little

“My handlers didn’t want me to grow up, yet they forced me to. To see you growing up at your own pace, of your own choice, brings some indescribable feeling. I’m glad of the life you got to live and I’m proud of who you’re growing into. There really is no training for taking in a baby, and for once, I was happy to learn on the way. 

But I can never forget the people you were, and I hope you never lose them either. The baby we rescued at the expense of peaceful nights… the toddler who used to cry on the way to school, never wanting to be apart from me… to the child I had to wake up with blasting music because a dance party was the only way to get you up. I wish things could stay this simple, that you could stay so full of life, you may have to get older, but don’t you ever grow up. We can always have this.”

Oh, darling, don't you ever grow up Don't you ever grow up, it could stay this simple No one's ever burned you Nothing's ever left you scarred And even though you want to Just try to never grow up

The first time you argued with friends, your mother was the first to reassure you everything would be okay, on a day where nothing felt like it would be okay again. She held you close and let you cry, telling you it would always be okay to run right back to her. 

"We'll go for a drive," she said to you, and you did, she drove you aimlessly at first, just letting you talk until you felt more like yourself. Then she found an aim, taking you to an arcade and besting you at every game. Sure she was trying to make you feel better, but not to the point of letting you win - and you wouldn't have accepted it any other way.

You wanted to live in that moment forever, away from the troubles of life, away from the independence that she had allowed, to just stay with her. Playing games just like when you were a little kid.

Take pictures in your mind of your childhood room Memorise what it sounded like when your dad gets home Remember the footsteps, remember the words said And all your little brother's favourite songs

It was Yelena who came to pick you up. You had no idea what was going on; you’d been sitting in your room one moment, finishing homework and waiting for your mum to come home. She liked to order take out after a mission, and in advance of her arrival, you’d written out some options; she could make the final choice on what to get when she was home, but you’d narrowed it down to a few you wanted. 

Suddenly the room changed around you, your pale walls darkening to a deep red. Your desk, your homework, your scrap bits of paper were all gone, everything vanished, and you hit the floor with a thud. It had been too sudden for you to catch yourself, and you knew your back would end up bruised.

“Mum?” you called, eyes darting around every corner of this new room. The views were the same, the windows opening to the same scene you could picture with your eyes closed, you’d seen it every day of your life. You were in the same location then, but what had happened to your room? A king sized bed took up half the space, replacing any furniture you had kept in that area, a mirror and dresser took up the corners. Footsteps ran towards your door and your hope grew that it was your mother, coming to explain everything, but she’d taught you better than that. You remembered her footsteps, and those weren’t them. 

You dove under the bed, rolling right to the centre to minimise your chances of being seen. You tried to even your breathing, but all of the preparation didn’t prepare you for something to actually happen, your sight was blurred by tears and you bit your own knuckle to mask your breaths.

“Hello?” A man spoke. You stayed quiet. A hum. The man seemed to take the silence as an answer and walked out, shutting the door behind him. You stayed hidden as you listened to his footsteps fade, before rushing out from under the bed and throwing the windows open. You’d practised this with your mum, and luckily the exterior of the house was unchanged. You grabbed the ledge and swung your body over, closing the windows again to erase suspicion, then shuffled along the side panels until you reached the water pipes. You’d been told they were reinforced and you hoped that was still the case as you grabbed on and slid down. 

Dropping off at the end, you ran into the safety of the trees you had spent so much of your childhood in, the trail had become overgrown, but you knew the route by heart, and found yourself at the treehouse before you even knew the path you were following. It was still there, still intact, and you climbed up to it without a second thought, tucking yourself tight in the corner before you took your phone out.

You filed through the contacts before you found it: Mum. You hit call.

It rang, and it rang, and it continued to ring. Why wasn’t she picking up? You needed her, where was she? Even on most missions she could still have her phone set to answer you. You tried again, and again, and again and again. Then another contact popped up, someone calling you; Yelena.

“Auntie Lena?” you sobbed.

“Y/N, where are you? Are you safe? Is Nat with you?”

“I’m in the treehouse, there’s people in the house and mum isn’t picking up.”

“She’s not answering me either… I will come and collect you, stay there, I will get you safe.”

I just realised everything I have is someday gonna be gone So here I am in my new apartment In a big city, they just dropped me off It's so much colder than I thought it would be So I tuck myself in and turn my nightlight on

Your first memory was made here. A little room adjacent to your mother’s. 

The space was only ever designed for one person, so as soon as you outgrew the room, Natasha bought the house every other memory was made in, and the two of you made it your own. 

Now it was just you. There was no need for a two person space, so you were back. In a room that was yours, yet still felt so new. You didn’t fit the bed, it was designed for a toddler after all, but it was yours, and the alternative was sleeping in a bed that was hers. 

She wasn’t here to tuck you in anymore, to stir you awake with a kiss on the forehead, or to hold you as you fell asleep. You both grew up, and that left you alone. She would never do it again. 

You pulled the covers up to your chin. It didn’t bring the same warmth you craved from your memory, and your nightlight shone dimly.

If this was growing up - a life without her - then you wish you’d never grown up.

Wish I'd never grown up I wish I'd never grown up And even though you want to Please try to never grow up

“And now you’re gone. I don’t know what to do, so I wrote this because I don’t want to forget one bit of you. I don’t want to forgive myself for this, I promised I’d give all I had to keep you safe.

I didn’t do enough. 

I wish we’d never grown up, life could have stayed so simple, I would have never reached an age where I could lose you. I’ve been told there’s a chance to get you back, a small, dangerous one, but it’ll be worth it to me.

I might not be here if you get back, but I hope you find this journal, and remember, my darling, to never grow up, not properly. 

But I need to do this, so you at least have a chance to grow up.

I love you, Y/N.

Your mother always,

Natasha”

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x child!reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff & reader #natasha romanoff & child!reader #child!reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff & y/n #marvel #mcu #natasha romanoff angst

[kiwisbell]

The Light of the Stars: Chapter 3 (Conclusion) [din djarin]

Your celebration for Din’s name day goes horribly wrong. And a group of pirates sees the worst of your Mandalorian.

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3

read part one here (not necessary, but encouraged!): told before and told again

series masterlist | my masterlist!

pairing: din djarin x f!reader

rating: 18+ (mdni)

series tags and warnings: established relationship, unprotected piv (no following the leader), the helmet stays on, but the gloves come off, in more ways than one, hand kink???, animal handler!reader, grogu being a good kid, extremely protective din, kidnapping, BAMF din, din gets mad, dirty talk, fingering, blood and violence, creampie, rough sex, multiple orgasms, top din, soft din, din fucking the babysitter, extreme amounts of fluff, din is in love, mando'a pet names, porn with feelings, porn with plot (there actually is a plot this time), feral din, din is touch-starved, it's din's birthday!! (sort of), din djarin being so in love that it's disgusting

word count: ~ 5.7k

sometimes, din is actually good at his job and that's when he gets angy -- please enjoy the conclusion to the light of the stars!! xoxo

chapter 3: backs bound in twine

Someone has made a grave mistake, and the Mandalorian sees little choice but to pay in blood. In fact, he enjoys the idea very much.

“Can you please take my blindfold off?”

“Sorry, love.” The voice next to you does not sound particularly sorry, but he doesn’t sound cruel, either. “No can do.”

“Is there a reason I’m not allowed to see?”

“Can’t have you fiddling with my ship,” says the pirate. “What if you try to escape?”

“Oh, we wouldn’t want that.” You slump backward in your seat, flexing your fingers. Your wrists are bound to a rickety chair, as are your ankles. You’re evidently inside a spaceship, but you’ve been blindfolded since you woke up, blinking hard against the swath of fabric and smacking your chapped lips. Panic set in quick, assuming you had gone blind or worse, your nostrils stinging with the aftereffects of the sweet-smelling cloth. Then a glass of water was at your lips, and your mouth is not quite as dry now, but you’re still angry. 

To their credit, your captors don’t seem interested in harming you. Apart from the ropes that chafe against your appendages, you’ve been hydrated and scarcely spoken to. Except for the pirate who took you in the first place, who seems to enjoy his spot at your left side. You can no longer feel the earpiece; you can only hope Din found your brooch.

The pirate’s voice is smooth and somewhat aloof. “You’re bait, my darling.” A hand caresses your cheek, gentle, but you still jerk away. “Nothing more.”

“He’ll kill you.” You bare your teeth as if you’re about to bite off his fingers. “It doesn’t matter if I’m bait.”

“No, likely not. But he will come nonetheless.” His breath smells of spotchka and his fingers are ridged, covered in scars. You remember his hat and his cropped hair. You cannot remember the colour of his eyes. Somehow, it seems important. You wish you had memorised them while you could see. Now, here, helplessly blind, your heart is compensating for the loss. It is like free falling through air and grasping at a rope you cannot see. Your stomach tumbles with every motion nearby, every out-of-place voice. 

“You look scared, love.” Now, he's on your right side, and for some reason, it infuriates you. 

“You only kidnapped me. Why should that frighten me?”

“I told you, it isn't personal.”

“Well, that’s refreshing,” you snap. 

The pirate clicks his tongue. “You seem tense.”

There are many things you could say to that. You settle for, “I can’t see.” 

“We’re still on Nevarro, if that comforts you.” It doesn't. “You’re inside my ship. It’s a Porax-38 starfighter. Decommissioned after the Clone Wars. It’s decent. Much nicer than that shithole we found you in. I even put a carpet down in the hull for—”

“What did he do to you?” you interrupt. “If I’m your bait, I should know why. So I don’t try to run.” Pointedly, you struggle at the bonds around your ankles.

The pirate is quiet for a moment. “He hurt my friends.”

If you could roll your eyes, you would. Din has hurt many people. “And stole your favourite toy on the playground?”

“Killed my friends, darling girl. He massacred my friends. Left them with holes where flesh should be.” A breeze rustles your hair and his fingers trace your jawline. You scowl.

“Did your friends deserve it?”

“Now, that's a matter of perspective,” he says. “I placed a bounty on a business rival of mine. Your Mandalorian delivered him. Completely dead.”

“Not just a little dead, then?”

You can hear the sneer in his voice now. “I asked for the bounty alive. Mando failed.”

“He was your rival. Why do you care?”

“Because he was my friend, too,” growls the pirate. His hand tugs the ropes around your wrist tighter to punctuate his words. You bite your tongue. “I was going to offer him amnesty from his debts to me if he moved his operations off-planet.”

“Seems like a poor business move. Where do you get your money if not from begging your own friends for theirs?”

The hand on your face stiffens slightly, tightening a bit around your chin. Holding you in place. “It’s funny,” he grits out. “I thought you were a whore. I thought you were just good enough for him to keep around.” 

You lift your brows, doing your best not to act on the impulse to chomp down on his filthy fingers. “And now?”

“Oh, I still think he fucks you. I just think you love him, too.”

“And your friend?” you ask. “Do you force him to pay you, too? Or is it a purely… intimate relationship?”

The pirate laughs, patting your cheek gently before another shift in the air indicates he has moved away from you. For now, you breathe easy. 

“Gag her.”

~

Several things must happen in order for Din Djarin’s plan to work.

First: Greef Karga sends out a planet-wide holomessage announcing that travel to and from Nevarro is temporarily prohibited. The docking bays are closed and the parade ebbs as the afternoon lulls. Second: Din reluctantly agrees to Greef Karga’s suggestion that he use a scouting droid to find your captors’ ship. 

“It will be a lot faster than trudging over the plains yourself. You know it’s true, Mando.”

Of course he knows. It doesn’t mean he’s pleased to sit on his ass and wait for a droid to find you instead of just going out and doing it.  

He doesn’t like knowing that your captors have the upper hand because they have you. He will do anything and everything to take you back, no matter what it will cost. They may have hurt you already. They may have taken one look at your beautiful face and decided—

“Mando.” Karga’s voice slices through his black thoughts. “If you squeeze that holopad any tighter, you’ll break it.”

He drops it abruptly, the droid’s feed still transmitting its search to the holopad. All Din can see are rocks and crags and steep drops. “If they… if they hurt her…”

He doesn’t finish. Greef Karga watches him, but does not reply. Between them, silence becomes a yawning maw, gnashing its teeth and snapping. At his right side, Grogu coos sadly from his pram. He misses you. He’s afraid for you. 

Din understands. 

The holopad chirps rapidly. Din, Grogu, and Karga watch as the droid comes upon an older starfighter, parked just underneath a shady outcrop, the signal fuzzy but transmitting the coordinates nonetheless. From the bird’s eye view, Din can see a few pirates milling around the ship, carrying blasters at the ready or loading cargo. That’s it. You’re inside that ship.

He stands up and curls his hands into fists at his sides. The third thing that must happen for Din’s plan to work: he needs to be angry. 

“Can I use one of your speed bikes?” he asks. 

Greef Karga nods, his face a bit taut, a bit grim. “It’s already parked outside.”

“Take care of the kid.”

He leaves without another word and does not turn to acknowledge Karga’s parting words: “Don’t die doing this, Mando.”

~

You aren’t sure how long you’ve been here. The gag around your mouth pulls so tight that your cheeks ache and the knot at the back of your blindfold rubs incessantly against your scalp. You cannot see, cannot speak, and you begin to wonder if the sun has dropped or if it has already risen. Have you spent a full night in this chair, bound and gagged so your captor can enjoy the sick pleasure of murdering your Mandalorian?

They have given up trying to give you water. They seem to understand that if they remove the gag for even a moment, you will snarl and snap and most likely try to annoy them to death. The pirate has left your side, but there is another close by. You can smell plasma, and you wonder if these pirates are so bored of waiting for the Mandalorian to come that they’ve taken to shooting at the wildlife outside. Not that there’s much of anything to shoot at in the lava flats. 

“So,” says a new voice next to you, making you jump, “are you really… with him?”

You want to roll your eyes. Maybe step on his toes. You can do neither. You just nod. “Wow.” The voice belongs to another man, but it’s softer, slightly higher. He sounds like a teenager. “Never thought they were allowed to do… that.”

“Mmptmmphydno,” you tell him. 

Hands at the back of your head. A sudden release, like a cabin pressurising, and your mouth is free of the gag. “Don’t tell them,” says the kid. “They told me you would try to piss me off.”

You work your jaw until you feel confident enough to use your voice again. “There’s a lot you don’t know,” you repeat. “About Mandalorians. About the one you’re luring into a trap.”

“I only know what they tell me. They say he’ll make us a lot of money,” says the kid. 

“Sure. If he doesn’t decide to kill you.”

“He…” The kid clears his throat, but his voice has pitched up in uncertainty. “He saved that green thing’s life. The creature he travels with. Saved it from the Empire.”

You hum in affirmation. “He saved someone he deeply cares about from people who captured him and used them for personal gain.”

You swear you can hear the kid’s face blanch, and you almost feel sorry for him.

Outside, a scuffle draws your attention. Blaster fire. It is not the sound of casual target practise nor shooting at the wildlife. It is accompanied by screams. You scoot up a little in your chair and try not to lurch forward with pure relief. He’s here. He’s come for you. 

Din descends on the party with little care for the element of surprise. The speeder bike has not yet come to a full stop when he jumps off and aims for the first pirate he can see. The body drops with a hole in its head. Lift. Aim. Fire. 

Lift. Aim. Fire. His hands do not tremble. He is in control. He has no desire left for control. Control has never saved a life. It will not save yours. He will.

It does not matter how many are here, how many weapons they have, how angry they are. His rage is different. It eclipses the setting sun and turns the world black as tar. 

Skin. Blood. Cloth. Bone. His vision sharpens, every particle in the air and every speck of ash a topography of the way to you. He shoots one pirate in the throat and cuts through another with the knife. Your knife. You will be glad to know it is being put to good use. Plasma bolts sear through flesh and gobble it alive. Holes where there was once life. Blood smears into maps of traceable carnage on the lava flats. Some go down with a single shot. Some, he pulls close and stabs, watching for the exact moment when life flees their eyes. He’s surprised by the thrill it gives him. 

Killing is clinical. It’s necessary. For a Mandalorian, war is religion. For Din Djarin, whose every murder brings him closer to you, killing becomes tangible evidence that he is not going to lose. The starfighter awaits him, and he is pulling the wires in the control panel. 

Inside, the sound of Din’s massacre carries closer to you, a song on the wind. You suspect it will be heard across the galaxy.

“Please…” The kid’s voice crescendos to a panic. “I’ll let you free... if you promise he’ll spare my life.”

You just laugh. “You are eons too late for that.”

The hull opens. It’s too easy. And there you are. 

The kid opens his mouth and begins to plead. But his body thuds at your feet, and a set of hands is working the knots around your ankles. When all of your limbs are free, he helps you to your feet and indulges one fleeting, aching, gentle kiss of his forehead to yours. The feel and the smell of the cold steel and iron-rich blood make you sway on your feet. He pulls away, presumably to look at you. “Hey,” he says. His voice is the hum of night. 

“Hey,” you whisper. Your cheeks still hurt, but you smile anyway. “Took you long enough.”

“Sorry. Got held up,” he replies. “Didn't leave me much to go on.”

“Little busy getting drugged to leave a good trail.”

The shot does not come from Din’s blaster. It strikes his pauldron and narrowly misses your own head. He whirls, putting you behind him, to find a pirate crawling from the cockpit. He is wearing an ugly hat and a set of shabby clothes. Din feels a jolt of recognition, but he cannot place where he has seen this man before. 

“If you’re worried we harmed one hair on her head,” says the pirate, “we didn’t. I just wanted you.”

“I’m here.” Din cocks his head, lifting his own blaster. Your hand is a grounding pressure on his lower back, a warning of what will happen should he fail. “Who the hell are you?”

“I know you don’t remember. But I’ve been wanting the opportunity to get back at you for a long time, Mandalorian—under more even circumstances.”

“You’re right. I don’t remember you.”

“I lie awake at night for months trying to figure out the best way to get back at the man who killed my whole crew.” When the pirate’s eyes flick toward you, Din stiffens. And the man notices, his mouth splitting into a grin. “And there it was. My opportunity. Who knew the infamous hunter had a heart?”

Din fires. The pirate is just fast enough to dodge a mutilating blow, lunging forward to grab hold of Din’s arm while his free hand slides sharply to the side, forcefully knocking the blaster to the floor with a clatter. It’s a smart move. But Din is larger and even faster. He’s also much, much angrier. 

He lands a bone-crunching punch to the pirate’s nose, his brain swimming with the sick sense of pleasure at the sight of blood. The pirate’s blaster joins Din’s somewhere on the metal floor. But he isn’t finished. He aims for another blow to the jaw—

The pirate evades, catching Din’s wrist and kneeing him hard in the side. Pain briefly sparks white behind his eyes, but he recovers fast enough to twist out of the pirate’s grasp and kick him square in the gut. He reels backward, slamming against the wall of the ship. The entire cabin jolts sharply with the impact. 

“I’ve changed my mind. I won’t be needing your life anymore, Mando,” the pirate growls, wiping a welling drop of blood from his lip. “I’ll just take her.”

The pirate takes a step toward you. It is the wrong decision to make. 

“Don’t” —it’s little more than a snarl when it leaves Din’s mouth—“come any closer.”

The pirate’s nose is crooked, the bone broken. His breaths wheeze out of him. His eyes are slightly unfocused, and his stance wary. Still, he lifts his fists to go another round—

Din drops and picks up his fallen blaster. The bolt sears through the cotton of the pirate’s pants and the flesh in his thigh. Din lurches forward to grab the pirate, his hand curling around his throat, and breaks his neck. The body becomes a body. Cold. A dead thing.

The ringing in his ears will not abate at the sudden silence. He looks down at his gloved hands and finds them covered in blood. 

“Din,” you say weakly, “I can’t see.”

An insistent tug at the back of your head and the blindfold slips off. You blink harshly at the light pouring in from the sky and the plains, and he's there, a black silhouette that cuts through the bright white. You are blind all over again as your eyes burn and tear up at the drastic shift.

Hands. Two warm, human hands, skin and flesh and blood. They do not know their own strength. They're cupping your face, rough and calloused, his thumbs tracing the line of your jaw, his hands feeling your hair. It’s so soft. It’s smooth and gentle and he does not deserve to hold onto it. He doesn't deserve the way he grips fistfuls of your hair, nor the way your hands, trembling, cover his own. 

He has never truly felt your skin before. It feels like kneeling at a temple, bowing his head, praying to the deity. It feels like water and sunlight. It is the rush of hyperspace. It is the euphoric climb of a ship to the upper atmosphere and the way his ears pop. It is cupping his heart in his hands and trying to lodge it, slowly and meticulously, back into place. 

Your eyes adjust. “Din—”

You haven't even constructed the direction of your sentence when he sinks to his knees in front of you and tips his head forward so the forehead of his helmet rests against your belly. His hands squeeze your hips in steady pulses. He’s reminding himself of your heartbeat, acquainting himself with the fact that you're alive. 

You choke on the little cry that leaves your mouth and bring your hand to the frigid steel at the crown of his head. “I’m sorry,” he says, his voice barely loud enough to pass through the modulator. It is a harsh, jagged rasp that rumbles from his helmet to your vertebrae. “I’m sorry.”

Your hand slides to the chin of his helmet. You only nudge his head upward so you can look in his visor. “They didn’t hurt me,” you whisper. “I’m okay.”

But it is not good enough. It will never be good enough. Not until he can see. Until he can feel, for himself, that you are safe. Your warrior is a restless coil of energy, his hands—his bare hands—squeezing spasmodically around your hips, his breathing dark and heavy through his modulator. You want to memorise the paths of the veins on his hands, the winding walkways they take, the flex of his fingers, the strength of the muscles there. There, in the hands that have killed hundreds. You have never been afraid of them until now. Now, they are laid bare before you, and you are petrified that he will come to regret this decision. 

“Din.” His name is a broken music box in your mouth. The melody feels slanted somehow. “We need to go.”

He blinks hard and rises to his feet, his hand outstretched for you to place your own inside. You hesitate, looking at the life lines on his palm. “Your hands,” you say dumbly, as if it isn't obvious. As if he doesn't know, and you must alert him before he makes a rash choice. You have hardly used your voice today. Why do you sound as if there's sand stuck to the inside of your throat? 

So he moves first, trapping your hand in his. The touch electrifies your whole body. It is no longer leather and skin. It is like to like: it is the stars and the space between them. “I don’t want to touch you,” he says roughly, “when my gloves are covered in blood.”

Your eyes meet his visor, and slowly, you dip your head in a nod. He leads you out of the ship, careful to steady you when you stumble along the crags and cracks in the rock. Boarding the speeder bike with you tucked safely behind him, you see nothing but the vast plains, the setting golden-orange sun, the cry of gulls overhead. Until you crest over a hill and find the Crest awaiting you. You feel a whimper slip from your lips at the sight of your home. 

You leave the bodies behind. You leave the massacre at your heels. You abandon the rightful vengeance and set your eyes ahead, where you know you will be safe. He lets you climb into the hull first, following closely behind with a hand on your lower back. It dizzies you to know that if you were not wearing a shirt, his hand would be pressing against your spine. Unfiltered. Unfettered. 

A single input on the control panel closes the ramp and locks you inside. His wide shoulders are stiff, his head not quite angled your way. “Din…”

“‘Fresher,” he interrupts. His voice is the scrape of sharp claws through rock. 

He’s angry. He’s angry with you. You try not to let your body show your exhaustion, your misery, rubbing gently at your wrists as you make your way to the ‘fresher. Peeling off your blood- and sweat-stained clothes, somehow damp and dry all at once, you step inside and let the water scald you. 

A hand—bare, tanned—stops the door from closing. Din has shed his cape and his jet pack and is joining you in the ‘fresher. 

Maybe he isn't so mad. 

“You…” Scrambling for words, you push gently on his chest to keep him away from the stream. “You’ll get wet.”

His hands close over your sore, raw wrists, a balm to the idle ache. You are rarely bashful to be wholly naked in front of him, but this feels different. For some reason, seeing his hands and a sliver of his wrists makes him feel just as naked as you are. 

“I need to see.” His voice has not become gentler. His chest still heaves. “I need… need to know.”

Your brow furrows. Your hair is soaked, your whole body shivering like a leaf in the wind despite the hot water pouring over you. “You have me,” you whisper. “I’m here, Din.”

Not good enough. He backs you slowly against the wall, his leg wedged between both of yours. Water now deflects off his helmet and soaks his cowl, creeping into his skin. He welcomes the discomforting sensation. It is complete. It is sense. It is nothing like the nothingness of not knowing if you are dead or alive. 

“You’re cold.” He says it like a revelation, his hand pressing gently on your sternum. Your whole body convulses with shivers and your teeth chatter, but he can feel the frigid skin. He can feel you. This is something he never thought he would know. 

“Warm me up,” comes your reply. He would laugh at your brief little smirk if he wasn't vibrating with such voracious need. 

His fingers splay out, migrate downward, and his hand rests between your ribcage. “Told you to be safe,” he murmurs, transfixed by the way your heartbeat quickens, the sudden shallowness of your breathing at such a simple touch. “I thought…”

Your head tips back against the wall so you can look up at him. “I just wanted to give you a present.”

“You did.” Your life is what I need, he wants to say. Your breath under my hand… that is my gift. “I made good use of it.”

“I heard.” 

“You shouldn't have.” You see a vague twitch in the reflective light on his helmet, like he wants to shake his head. “You should never have to hear that.”

Your fingers are bold when they lace through his, resting soft and warm on your belly. “You’re a warrior, Din Djarin. I knew it when I met you and I know it now.” You scoot closer, your mouth so close to his own between the wall of steel. “They didn't hurt me. You did a warrior’s job.”

He will not accept your forgiveness so easily. “I let them take you.” 

You pin him with a stern look. “There is nothing to forgive.” 

Soft skin, ribs, heartbeat. Breath. Warmth. You are here. 

Din places his hand on the wall next to your head as he eases his weight against you, his other hand guiding your lower back into a gentle arch. It makes you feel the slippery cold of his chest plate and the thigh guards bracketing your leg. It makes you feel the stiffness of his erection through his pants. 

Your warrior is broad. He’s strong and imposing and rigid against you, and you understand why entire civilisations fear people of his kind. You are more than afraid. Your heart lunges out of you and transcends the pettiness of human feelings. It is sublime to look up at him, to be so close to a myth. 

But he is real, and he’s touching you. His hand slides around your waist and turns off the water in the ‘fresher. If you were cold before, you’re positively frigid now, as his hand finds your body again, squeezing your breasts, flicking his thumb across the sensitive pebbled nipples. You cry out softly at the tiny meteors of pleasure that hurtle toward your core. His name echoes in the small chamber. 

“Not hurt?” he grinds out, a knife stripping each syllable into strings. 

You shake your head, pushing your breasts out, seeking his touch. “Not hurt.”

His hand skates down your side, nerves sparking hot at the feeling of his skin on yours. It's a sensation you never expected to be so delicious, so overwhelming. What you and Din have is not relegated to skin. Feeling his now is like the lurch of a starship into hyperspeed. His fingers on your lower belly, your hip, your thigh—

His entire palm presses hard against your throbbing clit, and you gasp, your hands flying to his strong shoulders. “Does that feel good?” he croaks. 

“Din.” You watch two of his fingers slide through your folds, getting themselves wet with your slick. It’s a surreal experience to see his real hands work you, those fingers deft and dexterous as ever, but so close. So bare. 

“Tell me.” He’s closer, somehow, his forehead at your temple, nudging your head to the side as his fingers press into your tight hole, opening you up for him. 

“Oh, my—” A gush of wetness coats his fingers and you squeeze your eyes shut. “Din, it feels… you feel so good.”

“Cyar’ika,” he grunts, curling his fingers inside you as his palm continues to rub your clit. Your moan makes him clash his teeth together. “Open your eyes. You need to see. You’re so beautiful.”

“Like that. Just like that.” You’ve taken his fingers inside you before, but never like this. Never the warmth of skin. Never quite so obscenely loud, slick and filthy. Turning your head toward him again, you muster all your wherewithal to stare through his visor. 

Someday, he thinks, he will bare his face and his soul to you and bind himself forever to your life. Someday, he will taste you for himself, instead of letting his fingers and his cock do all the work. It will no longer be nights face-to-face, with a wall of beskar between you, describing to you what his face looks like. He will show you. He will make himself yours forever. 

His fingers work you to a high you do not quite see until it crests. You come, your body jerking hard in his grasp, your head jolting painfully against the wall as you moan long and loud, your cunt clenching hard around his fingers. You can barely see his hand lifting to his helmet, but you can feel the wet suck of resistance as his fingers leave your soaked cunt and slip beneath the steel. 

You do not see even a sliver of skin more than the hands he has already given you. But you watch while he sucks himself clean of you and groans. Your taste has a sweet tang that nearly doubles Din over, and he watches your cheeks burn from the sight of his indulgence. Your eyes blacken, your tongue darting out to wet your bottom lip. He doesn’t think you even realise you’ve done it. “Din,” you rasp, “I need you.”

“I know,” he says, equally as broken. “I know.”

Apparently, he does not know. He chokes on his own tongue when you lower to your knees and unbutton his pants, pulling out his throbbing, leaking cock and looking up at him with wide, expectant eyes. 

“Is this okay?”

He cannot help the way his hand shoots to the crown of your head. It’s just that he’s gone blind with arousal and he can no longer see the wall in front of him. You are all he can distinguish in the whiteout. 

“You have to tell me, Din.” Your hand slowly strokes him at the tip, squeezing gently around his shaft, and he wonders how you can expect him to form thoughts, let alone words, when you touch him like that— look at him like that. 

“I… fuck,” he hisses, squeezing his eyes shut only to snap them back open again. He does not want to blink at all, not when you touch him this way. “Yes. Yes.”

When your lips part to take his tip, his fingers curl in your damp hair and twitch with the impulse to push you right to the hilt. He doesn’t. He wants to watch you take him. You place open-mouthed kisses to his tip and the underside of his shaft, the vein visible along the length. Your tongue flicks along his slit and his head briefly tips back, forcing a weak groan from his mouth. 

Satisfied, you take him past the seal of your lips, tucking your teeth and swallowing. He’s only an inch deep in your mouth, but his hand curls blindly against the wall in an attempt to curb his building orgasm. It’s embarrassing. It’s humiliating. But if you keep this up, he will not last. 

Your hot, wet mouth envelops him, deeper and tighter still, greedily taking every inch you can until your eyes begin to water and his tip prods the back of your throat. His hand slips beneath your chin and feels the outline of his cock as you begin to bob your head back and forth. 

“Oh—” He’s slipping, every small gasp and crackling groan filtering through the modulator and filling your ears. Your pride swells with every twitch of his cock inside your mouth, and you want to drown up to your scalp in the masculine, heady taste of him. 

“Not—not your mouth,” he pants, his balls drawing up as he begins to lose all sense of where he is. “Want to—unhh, want to come inside you.”

You moan around his cock and pull off him, showing mercy, letting him pull you up and notch his leaking head at your entrance. He strokes himself a few times until his whole body jerks, a long groan seeping into your bones as he feeds himself inside your cunt and pumps his cum inside you. 

You expect him to slump over you, bracing his hand on the wall to make sure you don't get crushed under his weight, but—

He holds your hips, pulling out and turning you around so your tits are pressed against the slick wall. And he's nudging his cock back inside you, sliding through his own cum and pushing it out of your hole. He’s still hard, still throbbing, not done with you. You cry out, holding uselessly onto the wall, one of his hands reaching up to cover yours. “Din!” you gasp wetly. 

He seems beyond words, rutting into you like an animal, like he’s lost all comprehension besides the feel of your tight cunt around him. Pleasure crackles up and down your spine as he pounds you, finding your clit with his fingers and rubbing fast circles. The rough pummeling of his thigh guards against the back of your thighs is the perfect pinching pressure to rebuild your orgasm, brick-by-brick. He’s meticulous as ever in the way he manoeuvres your body. 

“One more,” he growls into your ear, his helmet buried in your throat, as close as he possibly can, in order to inhale the scent of you, feel the tremulous gasps you take as he fills you repeatedly.

“Gonna… Din, ah— ah!” You stiffen, crushing his fingers in your hand, your mouth dropping open and your brows scrunching as you come all over him. Your legs shake so violently that he has to steady you to keep you from listing as he works toward his own high. 

The slick, hot walls of your cunt suck him deeper, pulsate with the waves of your orgasm, and reel his in closer until he’s losing rhythm. His hips stutter against your ass, his cock driving inside you to the brim as he comes again, filling you with another load of hot cum. It spills around the tight seal of your cunt and dribbles down your thighs, his balls, undoing all the work you’d done to get yourself clean. 

His chest heaves against your back and your fingers still hold his against the wall. It’s silent. The ringing in his ears finally decrescendos. You’re safe. 

“Cyar’ika.”

“Mmm.” Your voice is an overwrought, broken whimper. 

“I used the knife you bought me,” he tells you. “I really like it.”

Despite the fact that your cheek is mostly smushed into the wall, he sees you break into a grin.

~

Later, in that too-small cot, the baby sleeping peacefully in his separate compartment, you and Din doze. Well, neither of you are asleep. But soon, you imagine both of you will be. 

“Din.”

The visor tilts down and you know he’s looking at you through that impenetrable steel. 

“Happy name day,” you whisper, your hand finding the cheek of his helmet. You imagine the skin beneath, warm and soft to the cold kiss of the metal in your palm. 

His bare hand covers yours. It is warm. The pads of his fingers are rough and his knuckles are scarred. Something cold slips into your palm. Your brooch: small, shaped like a mudhorn. 

“Next time,” he says, squeezing the pulse point on your wrist, feeling the existence of you in that steady heartbeat, “no parties.”

You drop your cheek to his chest and laugh. In his head, he turns the words over in his head a hundred times. On his tongue, the words are ichor. Thick and honeyed. A nectar that clings to the roof of his mouth. 

Marry me. 

#kiwisbell's fics #pedro pascal #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #mando x reader #din djarin #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin smut #din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin fluff #din djarin fic

[mathsbian]

You know what I was thinking about last night?

In the US, we pay into various accounts that are set up by the government to help us out later if/when we need it. These include unemployment insurance (UI), social security retirement benefits, and social security disability benefits (SSDI). These accounts are directly connected to how long you have worked and the amount of money you were paid, and are only for you to access.

We also pay into programs that are for anyone who needs them, no work required to get assistance. These include social welfare programs like SNAP (food stamps) and TANF (cash assistance for families with children so they can buy clothes for their kids and stuff that isn’t covered by SNAP) and SSI, which is another kind of disability insurance but is specifically for poor disabled people who are possibly still working but can’t afford their cost-of-living expenses which are higher than the average person thanks to their disability.

If you want to get money from SNAP or TANF, you have to prove that you need it. The government will be checking if you have a job and how much you get paid, they’ll look at your bank accounts to see how much money you have on hand, you send them copies of bill statements to prove your expenses eat up most or all of your income. Since SSI is a similar program, I can understand why there’s hoops to jump through to get money from that program.

However, if you want money from your UI account or your social security retirement account, you pretty much just have to tell the government you’re in the group that account is for now. For UI, you have to show you’re still looking for new work (at least in my state) but it’s a very lax requirement compared to the requirements for SNAP/TANF. I’m not entirely sure how one goes about collecting their retirement benefits but I assume it involves a similar process of filing with the government that you’ve retired instead of being between jobs, and they’re only check that that admission from you is true.

SSDI, though? You pay into that account your entire career. But then if you suddenly need the money, you have to go through a ridiculously complicated and drawn out process to be approved. UI approval takes a week at most in my state. I assume retirement benefits get approved in under a year at the very most. But getting approved for SSDI when you don’t have one of the limited diagnoses that automatically qualify you (and not even just a diagnosis in the list, a diagnosis with the right stipulations such as mental health conditions having to be present for over two years without much documented improvement despite consistent treatment)? That can take up to TWO YEARS because they can just deny you over and over again and force you to appeal the decision as many as like 5 times, and each appeal has a 6 month waiting period. And on top of that, once you stop working, the account starts counting down to self-destruction. You only have so much time before you lose access to the money entirely. If I am not found disabled on this application (I’m halfway through all the possible appeals), I will not be able to get my SSDI money AT ALL.

It’s fucking bullshit. I paid into that account so I would have money set aside for if I became disabled. I don’t have to prove I need the unemployment money, which I’m no longer qualified to receive, they’ll basically give it to me no questions asked. But when I’m disabled and barely scraping by for years I keep getting told that “actually from our review of your case it seems like you totally can have a desk job, go fuck yourself” despite me constantly including the detail that I cannot sit upright at a desk for more than an hour without needing to lie down completely flat for two hours immediately after. It’s MY MONEY. They’re not saving it for someone else, they’re going to just eat it if I don’t get it, why can’t they just GIVE IT TO ME???

#disability #us politics #ssdi #disability benefits #disabled things #fibromyalgia #chronic pain #chronic fatigue #poverty #vent

[goodluckclove]

A Tip for Interacting With Young Artists in Your Field: Please, be normal.

As an ex-prodigy (as adults so often described me), I cannot count the amount of times people have looked at my writing after learning my age and responded with abject amazement. Like wow, you wrote this? That's amazing! I consider people younger than me to automatically have less life experience and therefore no capability to move or challenge me through art!

That's...not a compliment? It's not a cool thing to be told that you're good for your age. Especially if you're planning to go professional at some point.

What I would've loved more than anything when I was just starting to seriously write at 15-18 was for someone to disregard my age entirely and just treat me as a colleague. Boundaries in terms of social interactions are all well and good, but when it comes to art it shouldn't matter how old you are. I'm reading works by high schoolers that exceed the quality of writing produced by MFA graduates. That doesn't mean it can't improve. We're all always improving. That just means that where you are in life has little bearing on how seriously you should be taken as a writer.

There are ways in which age plays a role in writing and in art, but from my experience that's in subject matter. What they know and what they don't. But guess what buster, that same problem applies to everyone sometimes.

Do you have a chance to interact with a young writer? Take it! Assuming you aren't a fucking creep, we have a lot to learn from a modern perspective and alternative imagination. That doesn't mean study them, just be regular. Tell them the problems with your draft and listen to theirs. Don't freak out that a teenager is having an easier time writing their WIP than you are. They have a bio test in the morning and you're probably old enough to legally drink. You're doing just fine.

Anyways, if you're a young writer reading this I have great affection for you. Try to actually listen in class and not just work on your writing. Or don't. I didn't.

#on writing #writing #writers on tumblr #writing community #writeblr #don't be weird to minors though #like remembering being a kid and listening to adults #if an adult has ever treated you in a weird way as a child #even in retrospect #fucking don't #i will send you bugs in the mail

[callsigndragon]

Desperate times, desperate measures | Ch. 2: Till death do us part

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x fem!writer!reader (Most of the times, she will be called Page)

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: mentions of death, angst, Jake and Page fight for the first time, and the wedding-

A/N: THANK YOU ALL FOR ALL THE COMMENTS AND FEEDBACK I'M GETTING FROM Y'ALL. It's absolutely wonderful to see the amount of love i get from you guys, i love you all so much.

It's okay if you like it and all, but please... a comment is also welcomed and if you reblog it? I'll kiss you on the forehead.

Masterlist

When the lawyer leaves the room, you remember that there’s someone important that you haven’t called and who will be suffering as much as you when she knows that Anne is dead. 

But so many things happened yesterday that you completely forgot to call your other best friend. 

“Heeeeeeey, how’s my favorite writer doing?” Gabby says, and the background noises make you guess that she is at a Starbucks at the moment. 

“Gabrielle, can you go to a quieter place?” You tell her, sitting down and bracing yourself for what’s about to happen. 

“Holy shit, that serious? Okay, okay, let me go to my car.” It only takes her a few seconds, but it feels like a lifetime. “Okay, in the car already. Tell me what’s wrong.” 

“Luke and Anne got into a car accident yesterday, they died, and they wanted me and Jake to be Emma’s legal guardians in case something happened to them, but Jake’s work is really dangerous, and I’m ‘too young’ to be a single mother, so the only way we can get Emma’s custody is by getting married, and I can’t get married to fucking Hangman, Gabby, I can’t!”  You let it all out before you even realize that you’re just rambling and rambling, and that probably Gabby hasn’t understood a thing and she’s going to freak out. 

“Luke and Anne are… dead?” 

“Yeah… they’re gone.” 

She starts sobbing, and you want to punch yourself for the way in which you delivered the news. “Send me your location, I’ll go get you.” 

“Don’t worry, Matt is here with me. I’ll go to your house.” 

“I’m… I’m staying at Anne’s.” You clarify, wincing when you hear her swearing with a shaky breath. 

“Of course you are, Emma needs all the stuff that’s in that house. I’ll see you in 20.”

Just wait until she finds out that you two cannot get Emma from CPS until you accept to be her legal guardians... and you can only do that when you get married. 

“....And Hangman just went to get a marriage license because apparently it's faster and easier if you’re a member of the military.” You finish the story, watching how Gabs' knuckles tighten when she grabs the mug with force. 

“Man, life couldn’t get more complicated even if it tried.” She sighs, wiping her face with a tissue. “How are you holding up? We all  were best friends, but you’ve known her all your life, honey… And now you have to take her place, and raise her daughter.” 

You nod, eyes unfocused as you drift away, remembering a conversation from a few weeks ago, in which you told Anne that you ‘envied the life she had’. A life that now was yours. 

Yesterday, when you woke up, you were a single writer who had just published a new novel. You had good friends, you had a good life, a good house, a good car. It was everything you ever wanted, and you worked so damn hard to make it happen. 

When you wake up tomorrow, you are going to be a married woman and a mother. You’re going to have to give up your car and your house. You’re going to have to reschedule all your promotions and the release of your new book. It’s going to take a few months before you settle down and manage to find time for yourself and time to write again. 

How much can a life change in one day, huh.

“With a man I hate. This feels like shitty fanfiction written by a teenager.” You scoff, letting your head hit the back of the sofa while you close your eyes. 

“Honey, you started with shitty fanfiction written as a teenager.” Gabby  says, making you chuckle. 

“I hope that nobody ever finds them.” 

The main door opens, and you see Jake, followed by all the members of his squad. “Hey, Gabby.” He greets your friend. 

Gabby only answers with a nod, turning her head towards the rest of the aviators, noticing that Nat is between them. Gabby may or may not have a tiny crush on her. But she knows that this is not the time to be a teenager with a crush. 

“You got the license?” You ask Jake when he sits next to you, taking a deep breath and nodding. 

“Yeah, it was easy. I called the squad to act as witnesses; I thought Gabby was in Texas working on her next movie.” 

“We’re switching locations, and they gave me a few days off. I have to call them and let them know that I have to attend a service.” She grabs her phone and goes to the kitchen, probably to call her agent. 

Sometimes you forget that you met Gabby a few years ago, when one of your first books was turned into a movie, and you went to the studio every day to help Anne, who was the director. Gabby was cast as the main actress, and soon the three of you turned into the bestest friends. 

Gabby and Anne were always ready to listen to your craziest ideas and plots for upcoming books, even if that meant staying up until 3 AM and chatting on a video call. Anne used to prepare her pitches with you and Gabby, so it was perfect whenever she had to meet the producers or studio executives. Gabby prepared her scripts with you two, getting ready for her next audition. 

It was the perfect team. You wrote. Gabby performed. Anne directed. 

The three of you were preparing to work together soon, as you had written your first screenplay not long ago. Anne insisted on you giving it a try, because your books ‘felt like movies most of the time, so it’s not that different’. And you did, finding that it was funny and really entertaining. Auditions are being made at the moment, and the only thing you know is that Gabby was the hilarious best friend of the main character. 

It made you sad, though. The amount of times she had performed that role over the years... And even after she won not only a Grammy but was nominated for another one! Why is she still getting these roles? Gabby said that, in this film, she felt more connected to that character than to the main one, so she was not mad about it. 

But you’re getting tired of Hollywood’s hypocrite ass. They always talk about inclusivity and giving more opportunities to other actors, but you don’t usually see a black actress in the main role of a big movie. That’s Hollywood for you. 

“I guess we’re going to the courthouse now.” You question, observing as all the members of the squad, some of whom you can consider friends but others whom you don’t know as well, are standing in their dress uniforms. 

“In a bit.” Jake clears his throat. “Look, we only have to pretend until the caseworker approves us. Then it’s all over.” 

“Oh, so you want me to get a divorce as soon as we get a seal of approval?” You retort, turning your body in his direction. 

“What, you want to be my wife?” He scoffs, looking at Javy, who is shaking his head, as if he was telling him to stop with the jokes. 

Jake should listen to Javy sometimes. 

“I’m a public figure, Jake. Once I get married, everybody will know! And if I get a divorce in three months, right after CPS gives us their blessing, people will know too!” 

“What do you mean? Do I have to play the doting husband for the rest of my life?” He raises his voice, and you can see from the corner of your eye how Rooster takes a step in your direction, but Bob and Payback stop him. 

“This was your idea, Jake. Don’t yell at me.” 

“Then tell me, what was I supposed to do? Let a bunch of strangers take my goddaughter away?” You can see the unshed tears in his bloodshot eyes. He had been crying, too. Probably even more than you and Gabby. 

There’s a different level of connection between people who risk their lives together. It’s unsimilar to everything you've seen. The stronger the connection, the bigger the loss. 

“I think that you took the only option we had. But we’re gonna have to fake being in a marriage for longer than you initially thought.” You get up from the sofa, moving to the kitchen, only pausing midway when he asks his next question. 

“How long?” 

How long? Well, that’s a good question. Long enough for them not to suspect. Long enough so they forget about you two. 

How long is that?

“A year.” You proclaim, feeling as if your words echo all over the house. 

“Do you have any cute dresses in your suitcase?” Gabby says, rummaging through the small suitcase you packed for the three days you were supposed to stay away from the city. 

“No, I don’t have anything appropriate for a fake wedding.” You groan, sitting on the bed. 

“Maybe we can go buy something before we get to the courthouse?” 

“I don’t think we have time for that, Gabs.” 

A soft knock on the door makes you tear your gaze away from your friend, waiting for the newcomer. Nat’s head pops up from the other side, eyes closed. “Are you girls visible?” 

“Yeah, we’re trying to find a dress.” Gabby says, checking her reflection in the mirror before Nat opens her eyes. 

Rolling your eyes, you see that the pilot has a bag in her hands. “What’s that?”

“On my way here,” Nat starts, walking into the room and handing you the bag. “I thought that maybe you didn’t have anything to wear. So I bought you this.” 

You get the dress out of the bag. It has a vintage air to it, and it’s white. The skirt stops over the ankles. It’s the kind of wedding dress that was used for civil weddings. Just like yours. 

“It’s beautiful, Nat. Thank you. You didn’t have to.” You hug her, trying to understand how a beautiful soul like hers is friends with Jake. 

“Me and Bob will take you to the courthouse. Take as much time as you need.” She nods in Gabby’s direction and leaves the room. 

You start crying as soon as you realize that your best friend will not be attending your wedding. 

The ceremony isn’t long, and you’re grateful for that. Because you’re not sure how much time you can hold Jake’s hands on yours, while faking to be madly in love. Jake plays the part like a champ, even telling the officiant that he didn’t want to rush this wedding, but he’s going to be deployed soon and wants to marry the love of his life before he has to leave for a few months. 

It takes all your strength not to take off your high-heels and throw them at his head. But the shoes are Anne’s, and you don’t want to damage them. It’s something borrowed. The sapphire earrings are an heirloom given to you by your grandma. It’s something old, and something blue. And the dress, bought for you by Nat, is something new. 

You didn’t care about these small traditions because this wedding wasn’t real, but if you’re going to be married to this idiot for a year, at least you’re going to do it right. 

“The future promises many happy days ahead,” says the officiant, making you take a deep breath to avoid laughing at his face. No, there are no happy days ahead for you. “filled with unique opportunities, adventures, and challenges. It is through trust, love, and the unfailing support of each other that you will meet these inevitable ups and downs.”

You and Jake look at each other, feeling the weight of the words on your shoulders. There will be adventures and challenges, and as much as you hate to admit it, the only way you are going to survive this year, is by supporting each other. 

“Do you, Jacob Seresin, take Y/n L/n to be your spouse and to live together as partners, to treat them her love and respect, and to build a marriage that grows stronger and more loving as time passes?”

Jake doesn’t even blink when he answers. “Yes, I do.” 

“And do you, Y/n L/n, take Jacob Seresin to be your spouse and to live together as partners, to treat him with love and respect, and to build a marriage that grows stronger and more loving as time passes?” The officiant repeats the same words, but they don’t feel as the ones he said to Jake. They feel heavy. Like a doom. 

“Yes, I do.” 

“The wedding ring represents the promises and potential of marriage. It has no beginning and no end, and is a timeless symbol of the love and commitment you have pledged. As you wear your ring, let it remind you of the love you feel here today.”

Love. The only thing that you don’t feel towards your soon-to-be husband.

“Jacob, place the ring on Y/n’s finger and repeat after me.”

Javy gives Jake the ring, that is soon placed on your finger. It’s cold. A coldness that burns your skin. 

I give you this ring as a symbol of my love and devotion, as we join our lives together, today, tomorrow, and for as long as our love shall last.

Those are the words that Jake and you have to repeat, each of them damaging your soul and leaving behind small crecives that you hope time can heal. 

The officiant’s next words make you cry, but he believes that you’re just an ‘emotional bride’. 

True marriage is more than just a ceremony or a piece of paper – it is a lasting bond that joins two lives and two hearts. 

You don’t want him near your heart. 

Marriage is love.

You don’t love him.

Companionship.

He will spend most of his time away.

Trust.

You don’t trust him.

And Respect.

The only thing you respect is his job and his dedication to Emma.

May you always find strength in each other, laugh with each other, and find safety and comfort in each other’s words and company.

What strength? What laugh? 

May you celebrate many joyful seasons together, support each other when days are difficult, and continue to learn and grow closer together with each passing year. 

Only four seasons with him. Nothing more. 

“You may kiss!” 

And when he kisses you, Jake doesn’t know if the saltiness in his lips is because of his tears or yours.

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[ahsxkatano]

Where I Can’t Follow

author’s note: see, I told you guys this was going to come out at an ungodly hour. it is 5:30am as I am writing this note out. Also, it’s my 21st birthday, so this is my party favor for y’all. There are a few time jumps in this chapter, but I hope you guys enjoy! -Del ✨

masterlist | series masterlist | prev | next

pairing: Morpheus x Reader

request: no

warnings: shitty spouse says shitty things

word count: 5,402

Chapter Three: Escapism

(Y/N) winced as they scanned the page, this was part of their story that they wished they could forget…that awful marriage with the miserable Elliot Charles. Though the amount of time they had actually spent together was minuscule compared to the amount of life (Y/N) had lived, Elliot still left a bad taste in their mouth. However, one good thing came from their relationship.

It brought (Y/N) closer to the man they actually loved.

After the Charles family left, they had spent the entire night arguing.

The entire night locked in a screaming match with both their parents, begging, pleading to do anything else to get out of the marriage they wanted no part in.

But all of their yelling fell on deaf ears.

For once, (Y/N) could not bring themself to dream. There was very little time left in the night for starters, but the pain (Y/N) felt weighing down on their chest was unbearable. Clutching onto their pillow tightly, fresh tears stain their sheets. And for the first time in their life…

They felt utterly hopeless.

The next morning comes by quickly, (Y/N) still in the same position on their bed, refusing to move. One of the handmaidens comes and tries to coax them out of their bed, claiming to have made one of the favorite pastries, but they still cannot bring themself to move. It isn’t until their mother comes slamming through the door and practically yanks them from their bed.

Their mother helps them dress for the wedding, and silence sits between the two. (Y/N) refuses to meet their mother’s eyes, their own orbs fixated on the wooden floor. A gentle tug at their shoulder brings them back into focus.

“You look wonderful, darling. Elliot is very lucky to have you.” She says quietly, adjusting (Y/N)’s clothing. A frown remains present on their face. Their mother lets out a sigh. “You know, you’re going to have to talk at some point. This is happening. Just be grateful that it’s happening at your age and not my own.” Their frown deepens.

“Did you try to fight back when you found out you were to marry father?” Their mother stiffens, before scoffing.

“Of course not, it was a mut-”

“Mutually beneficial arrangement.” (Y/N) finishes. “But you’re honestly telling me that at 13…you really were okay with marrying father?” They think back to the book they had read in that library, wondering if for once she would be honest with them. Their mother let out a small sigh.

“Not at first.” She murmurs, but any sense of emotion their mother had seems to wash away immediately. “But, I realized that I had to do this for my family, as do you.” With that, they pat (Y/N)’s shoulders, stepping back from them. “We need to leave, don’t want you to be late on your own wedding day.”

(Y/N) barely remembers registering what the priest was saying. All they could hear was a ringing in their ears, as they stood in front of Elliot…the person who was very shortly about to be their spouse. Elliot seemed to look just as nervous. Their eyes shifted towards the mostly empty seats in the church. The only ones attending seemed to be both of their parents.

“(Y/N)...”

Their eyes snap forward. The priest pauses momentarily, giving them a funny look. “Something the matter?” A frown forms on their face. Wasn’t he the one that just called them? Quickly, they shake their head.

“N-No, sorry.” The priest seemed to roll his eyes before continuing to read from his book. They could have sworn someone had just called their name. Their brows furrow.

“(Y/N).”

Their eyes look forward again, this time trying not to draw any attention to themself. Someone is calling them. Or maybe these are just the beginning signs of madness. Honestly, they would take either option.

“(Y/N)!”

The voice sounds more insistent now. (Y/N)’s eyes glance at Elliot’s. Then something estranged happened. There seemed to be some kind of movement, happening on the wall just behind Elliot. Their eyes shift focus to the sudden movement. The wall seems to ripple, almost like a pond when one skidded a rock across it. (Y/N) looks around the room to see if anyone else notices, but all eyes are focused on just the two of them.

“You know you don’t belong here…you’ve always known…”

The voice sends a shiver down their back. Their attention is back on the wall, as it begins to morph itself into something new.

The door.

The dark oak door appears before them again, illuminated by the gold sigils painted across it. There is a slight audible pop, and the door begins to creek open again.

“Come, (Y/N)...forget this life…”

(Y/N) bites their lip. No one still seems to notice the door. Were they dreaming? There is no reason for this door to be real right now unless perhaps they WERE dreaming and just having a god-awful nightmare.

They feel a sudden pinch on their hand.

(Y/N)’s eyes readjust to the person in front of them. Elliot gives them a sheepish look.

“It’s your turn.” They whisper. (Y/N) cocks their head to the side.

“My turn?” Elliot nods.

“You know…to say the thing.” (Y/N) blinks for a moment, before turning to the priest, who gives them an annoyed look.

“Well?” He grumbles out. Quickly, their eyes glance back to the wall. The door is gone. They let out a quiet sigh. Guess running away was no longer an option.

“I do…”

The rest of the ceremony wrapped up quickly, and the now conjoined families celebrated with a huge feast at the Charles’ estate. But (Y/N) didn’t feel like celebrating, and from the looks of it, neither did Elliot. However, it was at this dinner that they both learned that all of (Y/N)’s things had been moved into the Charles’ guest house, where the two newlyweds would now live.

How could this day get any worse?

Their first night together had to have been the most painful for them. They both lay in their now shared bed, staring up at the ceiling, refusing to exchange any sort of glances at each other. As much as (Y/N) tried to combat their sleep, they soon fell victim to it.

(Y/N) finds themself in a void this time around. There is nothing there. It is just their body seemingly floating through the never-ending pitch-black space that seems to surround them. A frown crosses their features. Not even one of their dreams could lighten their mood.

Of course, that’s when that damned door makes its grand appearance again. However, a noticeable lack of talking this time around. A small smile graces their features.

Maybe saying hello to a certain brooding King of Dreams might make this day somewhat better.

Having nothing really to push themselves off of to get them closer, slowly, their body drifts towards the door. Being just a few inches away from it, the door’s audible creak rings in (Y/N)’s ears. They force their body through the door, excitement coursing through their veins.

But instead of seeing the library’s shelves like before, they seem to find themselves falling.

However, it wasn’t a long fall, as their back soon made contact with something hard and flat. They let out a groan, as their eyes close tightly. They could hear footsteps quickly approaching.

“You sure have a way with making an entrance, Mx. (L/N).” A familiar voice mumbles. Their eyes slowly peak open, greeted by Lucienne, who is currently looking at them with a raised brow and crossed arms. “Are you alright?” (Y/N) props themself up, realizing they had landed on a wooden table.

“I think I’ll live.” They push themself off the table, wiping some dust from their clothes. “That damn door apparently wants to cause nothing but trouble today…” They grumbled.

“You came through the door again?” She asks with a troubled look. (Y/N) just nods.

“It appeared to me while I was awake today, during my-” They cut themself off, grimacing. During my wedding. Lucienne cocks her head to the side. “During a family event…” They mumble. Lucienne nods, a frown forming on her features.

“I see, Lord Morpheus will need to hear about this.” (Y/N) looked confused.

“Who?” She gives them a funny look.

“Did that fall damage your head? I thought you had met him previously.”

“Wasn’t his name Dream?” They question. Lucienne nods.

“The Lord has many names.” She looks down, writing something on her clipboard. “We still haven’t been able to figure out what exactly this door is, and why it is appearing to you specifically, but I’m sure we…he will find some sort of lead soon.” She mumbles. (Y/N)’s gaze shifts to around the room, noticing the lack of a certain someone’s presence.

“Is he here? I can tell him what happened.” Lucienne shakes her head.

“Unfortunately, his lordship is out attending to his duties.” (Y/N) feels their face drop. So much for that. Lucienne seems to notice the shift in their demeanor. “You are still free to stay, of course, we have plenty of books here at the library.” (Y/N)’s eyes shifted back to the room.

It was quite the sight.

They were sure that this was the most amount of books they had ever seen. They were also sure that they would at least need centuries to read every single book that was there. But they also noticed the piles and piles of books that had been stacked up on the sides, left on the tables, and even some on the floor.

“Actually, do you think you need any help around the library?” They ask, much to Lucienne’s surprise. “I have a feeling I am going to be here a lot more.”

“You don’t need to do that, Mx. (L/N). You are a guest here in the Dreaming.” They shake their head.

“Please, call me (Y/N). And as much as I would love to read every book in here, I would also like to help a friend out!” They smile at the smaller woman. “Plus, it’s not fair to you to have to do all of this by yourself! Please, I would love to help you with the library.” The woman seems to look off, contemplating their offer.

“You’d be wise to take their help, Lucienne.” That voice. “They don’t seem like the type to take no for an answer. Do you, (Y/N)?” Quickly, they turn so fast they practically give themself whiplash. A small smile forms on their face, as their eyes are greeted by the King of Dreams. He stood behind them, the tiniest glint of an amused expression on his normally stoic face. “Good to see you again, (Y/N).”

“And you too, Dream! Or I guess it’s Morpheus.” Their eyes tear away from the man. “Lord Morpheus?” The man raised an eyebrow, before (Y/N) meets his eyes again. “What exactly is your name? Lucienne says you have many, but, what was your original? Or what do you prefer?” An amused glint returns to his eyes.

“I do have many names, but you may call me whichever you prefer.” They pout.

“That’s not really an answer.” They grumble, before thinking for a moment. They clap their hands together, a mischievous glint in their eyes. “How about Mr. Surly Cat?” His face fell, and (Y/N) could swear they could see Lucienne try to bite back a giggle.

“Out of the question.” They let out a sigh.

“You’re no fun! Fine,” They fall into a bow, looking up at the man with a small smirk on their face. “Lord Morpheus, it is a pleasure to see you again.” Morpheus let out a sigh, but his eyes betrayed the annoyance he was trying to convey.

“You always act this way, don’t you?”

“Only with the ones I enjoy spending time with.” (Y/N) stands back up, flashing a smile at the two. “And I’ve loved every moment I have spent with you both so far.” The ghost of a smile appears on Morpheus’s lips. (Y/N)’s body begins to feel lighter. They look down at their hands, shocked to see that they seem to be transparent.

“You seem to be waking up.” Their eyes met again.

“I guess so. Until next time, my Lord.” They tease, before turning towards Lucienne. “And I’m looking forward to helping you!” The woman just gives them a small smile.

(Y/N)’s eyes snapped open. They were greeted by the mundane wall they had seen before they had dozed off. Slowly, their head shifts to the side, seeing a visible lump on the bed next to them. A sigh escapes their lips. So this wasn’t just some horrible nightmare. (Y/N) shifts their body to the opposite side of the bed.

They would give anything to escape from this.

~One Month Later~

While (Y/N) was having a hard time adjusting to married life, they were absolutely thriving in the Dreaming. The best part of their day was when they were able to sneak in naps or just go to bed for the night, as the door would now always appear to them, and they would almost always end up in that library.

(Y/N) was quick with learning the library’s layout too, so putting the books back where they belonged was easy work for both them and Lucienne. The two became rather fast friends as well, trading different stories they liked with each other, and just always seeming to have the most wonderful conversations.

It was another long night, books seemed scattered all over the place. (Y/N) collected as many of them as they could, placing the forgotten books on their cart. They made quick work of the pile, always moving from one aisle to another.

The last book seemed to belong in the romance section. Their eyes scanned across the shelves, looking for the book’s home in the aisle. Spotting the noticeable gap, they placed the book back, wiping their hands with a satisfied smile on their face. (Y/N) makes their way from the aisle, but a noticeable glow in the aisle catches their attention.

There was a small book on the shelf, that seemed to be glowing in a way (Y/N) had only seen once before. Carefully, they pluck the book from the shelf. The cover is just as dark as their door to the Dreaming, painted in the same shining gold sigils. A frown forms on their face. Was their mind playing some kind of trick? (Y/N)’s eyes scan the cover, and they feel their breath hitch at the title.

Where I Can’t Follow: The Heartwrenching Tale of an Endless and a Mortal

(Y/N)’s brows furrow, and cautiously flips through the pages of the book. If anything, it just left them with more questions.

The very first page had no chapter title, and one small sentence: It began in a dream. (Y/N) frowned, flipping through the book’s pages. The rest of them were blank. As if the story had not been written out.

“(Y/N)?” Lucienne’s voice rang out, causing them to jump. “You alright?” They look over at the woman, about to show them the book, only to feel the weight in their hand disappear. (Y/N) glances back down, the book was gone. “(Y/N)?”

“Y-Yeah…sorry…I thought I saw something.” Lucienne frowns.

A few weeks later, and (Y/N) had all but completely forgotten about the strange book. Their newfound duties at the library occupied a majority of their time in their Dreaming life.

It was another average day, but miraculously, the two had managed to get almost all of the books back where they belonged. (Y/N) took it upon themself to do some dusting on the higher shelves. Since those seemed to be the books that were touched the least, they had collected quite the collection of dust over the years.

Carefully climbing up the ladder, (Y/N) sweeps the duster gently across the old books. Clouds of dust flow into the air, getting caught up in the duster’s feathers. Quietly, (Y/N) hummed to themself, getting lost in their own thoughts.

However, a familiar glow tickled their face.

(Y/N) craned their neck, having to look all the way up to the very top shelf, and they could see the glowing book yet again. Why did their mind choose to torment them at the worst of times? Carefully, (Y/N) climbed up higher onto the ladder, the step space becoming much more narrow the higher they went.

When they reached the top step, they still couldn’t quite reach the book, and they began to wonder if they should just leave it altogether. (Y/N) was not trying to risk their life on some half-empty book. However, the book seemed to read their mind, as the glowing became harsher. (Y/N) let out a groan in annoyance, but pushed forward with trying to reach it.

They stretched their arm out as far as they possibly could, their fingertips lightly grazing the book’s binding. Their one arm held on tightly to the ladder, as they started to reach even farther by stepping on their toes. (Y/N) could finally feel the book in the palm of their hand, but before they could pull it from the shelf…

The ladder wobbled.

Before (Y/N) could even register what was happening, it appeared to be too late for them to readjust their balance. They could feel themself lose their grasp on the ladder, as they began their descent to the ground. They could remember hearing a small gasp escape their lips, as they closed their eyes, waiting for impact. But it never came. Instead, they felt someone’s arms cradling tightly around their body.

“Do you attract trouble on your own, or do you go purposely seeking it out?” A deep voice mused. Slowly, their eyes crept open, greeted by Morpheus’s icy stare. They took a moment to register what exactly had just happened. In the span of a second, Morpheus had somehow been able to catch (Y/N). They didn’t even remember seeing him before ascending the ladder. “You seem to be quite the handful at times, (Y/N).”

“Or in this case, I guess you could say an armful.” They tried to joke, but they could still feel their heart racing. “Thank you…for catching me.” The man simply nods, gently placing them on their feet.

“You need to be more careful around here, (Y/N).” Gently, his fingers lift their chin, having them meet his eyes. “We would not want anything to happen to you now, would we?” They could feel his fingers linger on their cheek, face heating up at his words.

“N-No…I’ll be m-more careful.” His stern demeanor fades, the tiniest of smiles on his lips.

“Good.”

The man had vanished without another word, leaving (Y/N) with a flustered expression, and their heart now racing for an entirely different reason.

Morpheus was still quite a mystery to (Y/N), never talking much unless he had to or was making a snide remark. For someone who is practically a God, he had a bit of an attitude on him. And even though they had a rough introduction, it almost seemed like Morpheus would seek them out at times.

There were times (Y/N) could swear that they could feel his gaze, even if he wasn’t in the room. And if they did happen to cross paths, there was always this intense look in his eyes, that would cause their heart to flutter. Even though they had promised to help Lucienne, and they very much kept their word, they couldn’t help but wish to see the brooding man, even if it was just for a moment.

There was something about him that made their heart beat in a way Elliot never could.

And they began to wonder if he had felt the same.

Morpheus always seemed to interact with (Y/N) differently than every other “mortals” that passed through here. They assumed it was probably because he was still trying to figure out just how they seemed to have access to his realm, but they hoped, even if it was ridiculous, that maybe he also felt the strange pull in his heart.

But, this was probably just all in their head.

~Two Years Later~

(Y/N) had grown accustomed to their double life at this point. During the day, they played the role of a faithful spouse, making sure to avoid doing anything that would be frowned upon in the public eye. And at night, they would spend what would feel like days helping Lucienne around the library, while also managing to sneak around and find Morpheus.

There were still no real leads about the mysterious door that only (Y/N) would ever see, but they didn’t really seem to care about it anymore. The door hadn’t manifested in the real world since their “wedding” day. And as for the book, they hadn’t seen it since the ladder incident. Life for them… wasn’t perfect but they were getting by. And their time in the Dreaming was the only thing that seemed to make it all worth it.

“Your mother came by today.” A voice hissed out. (Y/N) looks up from their spot on the bed, greeted by the sight of a very angry-looking Elliot. Their hands were on their hips, and it almost seemed as if they were huffing.

This was the downside of (Y/N)’s life in the waking world.

For the first few months of their marriage, Elliot had remained quiet and was just as upset about the arrangement as (Y/N) had been. But, over time…things just seemed to become more strained between them. Elliot had attempted a few times to try and lure (Y/N) to bed and well…attempt to create the heir both their parents so desperately wanted, but (Y/N) couldn’t bring themself to do it. They refused to bring a child into a loveless marriage, especially if that child’s fate in life was just to be betrothed to someone they didn’t love.

After a year into their marriage, Elliot was fed up. They became aggressive, always verbally insulting (Y/N), even wishing death upon them at times. In public, they were the picture-perfect couple, but behind closed doors, Elliot was a monster.

“And what did she want?” (Y/N) mumbled, eyes focusing back on their book.

“What she always wants. She wants to know why she does not have a grandchild yet.” (Y/N) turns a page in their book. “Are you even listening to me?!”

“I am. But we have had this conversation before. I am not ready for a child.” Elliot lets out a scoff.

“That’s what you always say.” They grumbled. “You understand the entire point of our marriage was to create an heir to the Charles/(L/N) name, right? We literally have one purpose, and yet you can’t seem to bother with me! Let’s just have the bloody kid, and get it over with!” (Y/N) sits up, a deep frown heavy on their face.

“And this is exactly why we are not ready to bring a child into this world. Get it over with? A child is a ton of responsibility, not something you can just get over with.” They seethe. Elliot lets out a frustrated groan.

“You are the sorriest excuse I have ever gotten the displeasure to know! Clumsy beyond belief, and all you seem to do is sleep half the time! You are fucking pathetic!” They shout. (Y/N) sighs. It was better for them to just let Elliot get it out of their system. They had learned a while ago that the more they fought Elliot, the worse they became. “I can’t believe I’m stuck with someone as worthless as you are!” (Y/N) winced. “No really, what have you done on this earth besides being a thorn in everyone’s side? Your parents barely want anything to do with you, I want nothing to do with you, who here actually enjoys your company?! I wish you would just fucking disappear from my life!” And with that, Elliot slams the door shut, storming off.

(Y/N) didn’t bother to follow. Nothing they would say would make anything better between them. They could feel wet drops hit their hands, looking down to realize it was tears. When did they start crying? Another sigh escapes their lips, placing the book on their nightstand, before rolling over onto their bed. More tears flowed freely.

They would give anything to be free from this pain.

Slowly, they feel their eyes begin to drift, and they are whisked off into their dreams.

When (Y/N) awakens, they find themself on a familiar-looking island. This time they weren’t lost at sea, still on the sand where they had been two years prior. However, the storm seemed to be worse this time around, as harsh rains pelted heavily against their skin.

They feel their body give out, crashing against the sand as sobs rip through their throat. They stayed like that for a while, the rain soaking their clothes, and their sobs becoming louder. (Y/N) could feel a warmth hit against their skin, as well as a familiar creak. Their eyes peer open to see the door, but (Y/N) can’t bring themself to move. Instead, they turn over, not wanting anything to do with the Dreaming today. They didn’t want Lucienne and Morpheus to see them like this.

So, (Y/N) continues to lay against the sand. The rain continued to pelt them harder, almost as if it was hail. Their sobs had quieted down, and all they could feel at this moment was nothing. They felt numb.

“(Y/N)?” A voice called out. Their body stiffened. Of course, they knew who the voice was, but they never thought he would actually come looking for them. Maybe they were just hearing things. “(Y/N)?” He calls again, this time, (Y/N) could clearly hear footsteps approaching behind them. They turn their body over, slowly pushing themself off the sand. They look up, and sure enough, the King of Dreams stands before them, with a concerned look in his eyes.

“What are you doing out here…you’re going to get wet…” They mumble, voice still course and raw from their earlier crying spell. A small frown forms on Morpheus's lips.

“You did not come to the Dreaming today…did the door not appear to you?” (Y/N) shakes their head.

“It did…I just…I had a really bad day…” Morpheus pauses for a moment. (Y/N) knew that emotions were not necessarily his strong suit, as they had learned through multiple instances throughout the last two years. But what he did now, surprised them. He sat next to them in the sand.

“Would you…” He pauses, looking for the right wording. “Would you like to talk about it?”

The rain gets lighter.

(Y/N)’s eyes widen before they feel a small chuckle escape their throat. Morpheus’s brows immediately furrow, and he goes to stand. He appeared to be offended. Quickly, (Y/N) reaches up, grabbing one of his arms and pulling him back down to the ground.

“Relax, I was just surprised…you usually freak out with anything to do with emotions.” Morpheus’s lips seem to pucker.

“I do not freak out.”

“Morpheus, you left me one time after you found me crying over a sappy book I read at the library. Then came back three hours later and claimed you had ‘urgent business’ you needed to attend to and that’s why you vanished.” They could feel his body tense.

“I am…learning.” He states firmly. (Y/N) lets out a few giggles, leaning their head against his shoulder.

“Yeah, you are.” The two fall into a comfortable silence, both watching the now calm ocean waves crashing onto the sand. The rain had stopped altogether, and the sky was no longer gloomy. (Y/N) wished that this could be their forever. Morpheus clears his throat, bringing their attention back up to meet his eyes. He still seemed concerned.

“Why did you not wish to come to the Dreaming today?” They let out a sigh, starting to feel the tears well back up in their eyes.

“I…I told you…I had a really bad day.” The clouds appear again, causing Morpheus to frown. “I did not wish for you both to see the state I was in…plus I wouldn’t have been much help in the library today…” They mumble. “I’m honestly surprised to see you here. I thought you both just found me a thorn on your side, having to deal with me just because I kept appearing.” A few tears stream down their cheeks. A light rain begins to cover the island. Soft fingers gently caress their cheek, pulling their face up to meet his eyes.

“Though your appearance in my realm was unexpected, there is not one moment in which Lucienne or I have ever felt like you were some kind of thorn. You have brought much joy into the Dreaming, into Lucienne’s life, and even mine.” He whispers the last part. (Y/N) feels their eyes widen at his words, tears forming again, but for an entirely different reason. They lunge forward, tackling the man into a hug. He stiffens for a bit, before eventually returning the embrace.

“Thank you…” They murmur, voice muffled by his clothes. “You don’t know how much that means to me…” The two stay in each other’s embrace, Morpheus’s hand trailing up and down their back. While (Y/N) is enjoying this moment, they can’t help but worry about what will happen when they wake up. They’d be back in their world…away from people who actually seemed to care about them.

They’d be stuck with Elliot.

However, it almost seemed as if Morpheus had read their mind.

“(Y/N), I must confess something to you.” Begrudgingly, they pull back from his embrace, a quirk on their brow.

“What is it?” He looks off to the side.

“I have visited you…in your realm. A few times. I…Lucienne had noticed a few times where you had come in, and your normal demeanor was off. She seemed worried about you, so I promised to check in just to see if you were doing alright in the waking world.” (Y/N)’s brows furrowed. They had never seen him before in the waking world, but now that they thought about it, there were a few times when they felt as if his gaze was on them. But they always shrugged it off as nothing. They feel their eyes snap wide. If he had gone to see them, did he see…”Why did you not tell us about that thing that has been tormenting you?” Yep, there it is. (Y/N) feels their body tense, eyes shifting back towards the ground.

“I didn’t think it was necessary. Plus, you both already have so much going on, the last thing I would ever want is to add more to your plate.”

“(Y/N).” He calls out firmly. “That was incredibly stupid of you to think.” (Y/N) turns to him, frown on their face. “We care about you…clearly enough for Lucienne to ask me to check in on you.” He sighs, gently caressing the side of their cheek again. “Which leads me to my next question…are you truly happy there? In the waking world?” (Y/N) scoffs.

“I dread waking up. My life in the waking world is absolutely miserable…” They grumble. He gives a small nod.

“Very well, then. I shall offer you this choice, but only this once.” Their head perked up. “You can continue to live your life in the mortal realm, and still come as you please. Or, I can bring you, your physical body, to come to stay in the Dreaming.” (Y/N)’s eyes shoot open.

“I’m sorry, did you just ask me to come live with you?”

“In a way. You would not be living with me but in my realm. But, I must warn you, if you choose this, you cannot return to your world. It would be too much for your physical body to bounce back and forth between both realms, which is why as of now you only appear in your dreams.” He states sternly. “I know it is a lot to decide at the moment, but I-”

“I’ll stay with you.” Morpheus blinks.

“Are you sure? You have not given it mu-”

“I’m sure. I want to stay in the Dreaming.” Morpheus gazes into their eyes, looking for any sign of doubt or indecision. But (Y/N)’s face was stern. There was nothing there for them in this life. They would much rather spend their time in a place where they could truly be happy.

“Then so be it. I will come for you.”

(Y/N) feels their body jolt from their bed. Moonlight peaked through their window, shining onto their bed. They glanced over and could see Elliot fast asleep on their side. A small tapping noise made its way to (Y/N)’s ears. They glance up to see Jessamy tapping her beak against the window. (Y/N) rises from their bed, making their way to the window. Jessamy flies away, landing on her master’s shoulder. (Y/N) couldn’t help but gasp.

He was really here, in the waking world.

And, he was going to take them away from their god-awful nightmare.

(Y/N) glances back at Elliot’s sleeping figure, and can’t help but smile.

Guess both of their dreams would come true tonight.

~

If your name has a strike through it, it means Tumblr would not allow me to tag you. Apologies. Also, I believe I am caught up with tags, but if you wish to be tagged, either comment on this post or send it through the ask box :)

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#morpheus #morpheus x reader #the sandman #dream of the endless #the sandman imagine #dream of the endless x reader #the sandman x reader #dream #dream x reader

[misc-obeyme]

THE THREADS THAT BIND

CHAPTER ELEVEN

MASTERPOST for summary/info/chapter list

a/n: We got some extremely brief appearances from Diavolo and Satan in this one. Otherwise, it's mostly angst because MC is having trouble taking the good advice they were given. Isn't that how it always goes.

GN!MC x Barbatos | word count 1,271

Warnings: just some angst, but otherwise nothing

Despite the good advice you had received, you spent an unfortunate amount of time avoiding Barbatos. You thought you could work up the courage to tell him the truth, that you could simply march up to him and say it, but every time you saw him, your gut twisted horribly. It was so bad that you found it much easier to simply stay away from him all together.

You just needed some time, you told yourself. Time to work through how you felt, what you would even say, what you would do when he inevitably rejected you.

You should have known that Barbatos would notice.

You were in the library at RAD where you were supposed to be studying with Satan. He had gone off to find some books and you found yourself staring off into space, contemplating the woes of your predicament.

When someone sat across from you, you assumed it was Satan returned. When you looked up, your heart clenched to see Barbatos sitting there instead.

He seemed as calm as he always was, the same pleasant smile on his face.

"Hello, MC," he said.

You sat up a little straighter. "Hi, Barbatos."

"I see you are studying for the upcoming curses and hexes exam," he said.

You looked around the table at your notes and books, the unkempt piles and stacks. "Yeah," you said. "Satan just went to get some more books."

Barbatos watched you for a long moment, the silence stretching between you. You found you couldn't look at him.

"MC," he said at last. "I know you have been avoiding me lately. I cannot say I blame you. After all that time you spent forced to remain by my side, I understand that you need your space. I only wanted to see that you are all right. I know this hasn't been easy for you."

You looked at him then, but only briefly. Because the moment you saw the look of concern, you couldn't take it, and you looked away again.

"I'm fine," you said. "You don't need to worry about me."

There was another silence because both of you knew that was a lie. What was Barbatos thinking? That you were lying to him because you didn't want him to worry? Or you were lying to him because he was the problem? You didn't want him to think that. This was your problem, not his. But you couldn't manage to say anything else. You weren't ready to tell him the truth. Not yet.

You were looking at the table, but you still saw the way he reached out, stopping short and pulling his hand back. There was a thud in your chest, like a door had closed on the hollow that had grown inside you, inaccessible to anyone or anything.

"That is good to hear," Barbatos said.

He was so masterful at hiding his own feelings. You knew him well enough by now to know that he wanted to say something else to you, something about how he could tell that you weren't fine. And yet his voice gave away no such indication. It was as smooth as it ever was.

"Thanks for checking on me," you said.

Barbatos stood up from the table and you felt you had to look at him then. "You know where to find me, should you need anything."

You smiled at him, but it was so forced it was almost painful. Barbatos bowed to you briefly before walking away.

You sat at the table for a while, staring down at the mess of papers in front of you, not thinking about anything except how much you were hurting.

In the midst of this wallowing, Satan returned to the table, dropping a stack of books on it with a heavy thud. A thud reminiscent of the one that had echoed through your heart. You forced yourself to push all that aside and focus on the studying at hand.

-

After that, both you and Barbatos seemed to be avoiding each other. The others must have noticed, but nobody said anything. The only indication you had that anyone thought anything about it was the way Arsenios sometimes gave you pointed looks from across the classroom. You would give him a brief, pained smile before turning away again.

The truth was that everybody had indeed noticed what was going on. Solomon mentioned something to Simeon, who talked about it to Lucifer, who then told Diavolo… in the end, everybody knew about it. It was surprising how well they all kept it to themselves, though. It had a lot to do with how they could tell bringing it up with you would cause you pain.

This didn't stop Diavolo from taking it upon himself to invite you over to the Demon Lord's Castle, though.

It happened after RAD one day, when you were about to head back to the House of Lamentation, that he asked you to sleep over.

"You haven't been to the castle in some time, MC!" he said as you gathered up your books. "Is there any way I can convince you to stay the night?"

You considered his offer. Part of you was suspicious. There was no way Diavolo hadn't noticed that something was up with his butler. Was he only asking you to stay over so that you'd be forced to be in proximity with Barbatos?

Was that such a bad thing?

You had to admit that things couldn't continue on this way. The pain you felt every time you accidentally met Barbatos's eyes, the way you always made excuses not to go to the castle, the empty hollow in your chest that never seemed to diminish. Maybe you could find some relief from these things if you faced the rejection, if you felt that acute pain instead of this throbbing ache. That definitive answer was what you needed in order to move on. And Diavolo was giving you the opportunity to do it.

"All right," you said, smiling at Diavolo.

Diavolo acted as though he couldn't see the way your smile was forced. He clapped his hands together. "Excellent! Then I will see you this evening!"

You took yourself back to the House of Lamentation, leaving behind some of your school things and packing an overnight bag for staying over at the castle.

When you arrived, dinner was already prepared. Diavolo was waiting for you, but Barbatos didn't seem to be around, which was unusual.

You didn't ask about it, just had a pleasant dinner with Diavolo, who chatted with you about many different topics. He didn't ask you about Barbatos or the curse or anything even remotely related to either of those things.

The Little Ds seemed to be filling in for Barbatos, bringing you refills of your drink and taking away plates to the kitchen. You suspected that Barbatos himself was in the kitchen directing the whole thing. Likely he couldn't stand to see you, after the way you had lied to him so blatantly in the library.

Diavolo himself brought you to the familiar guest room where you had spent so many nights. You thanked him for dinner and for his company that evening. He beamed at you as though this was all going exactly how he had intended.

You were confused as you got ready for bed. You had really believed the whole purpose of this was so that you would have to face Barbatos.

And yet, he had not made an appearance.

Conflicted, you decided to just go to bed and try to sleep. Perhaps he would be there in the morning.

masterpost | chapter one

chapter ten | chapter twelve

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

#obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me barbatos #om barbatos #barbatos obey me #obey me barbatos x reader #obey me barbatos x mc #obey me x reader #om barbatos x reader #om barbatos x mc #barbatos obey me x reader #barbatos obey me x mc #the threads that bind #misc writes

[dawnagustd]

big deal || myg

➛ title: Big Deal ➛ pairing: (non romantic) idol!yoongi x reader; ft. ot7 ➛ genre: mature rated comedy? ➛ summary: “It’s never a big deal until it becomes your big deal,” Yoongi learns. ➛ rating: 18+ ➛ word count: 1.3k ➛ warnings: strong language | attempted and failed blackmailing (like it was pointless lol) | c*cks… lots of c*cks being discussed; specifically Bangtan c*ck | ot7 chaos | this is a complete unedited shit show | open ending just in case | i think that’s all ➛ author’s note: Hi! It’s been a long ass time. I’m so nervous lol. Anyway, this is for @hobeemin​ & @sweetestofchaos​ and it has everything to do with this Discord emoji. This is the first completed work I’ve written in months, so please be kind lol. I know it’s bad(it’s supposed to be) and I’m not all too comfortable writing idol aus but I had a ball writing it so just let me have this moment🤣. Also, I don’t want to promise a part 2 but... man I like the thought of mad whiny Yoongi.

“Mine doesn’t even look like that! Guys, look at how thick and short it is.”

Yoongi does an internal eye roll as Jimin lets out another dramatic cry. All this over some damn Discord emojis. Maybe he’s just too old for this shit because he doesn’t see the big deal. At least he’s not the only one.

“It isn’t that deep,” Seokjin states, shoving some ramen in his mouth.

“That’s what Jimin’s girl said,” Jungkook blurts out in a small voice.

He can see Jimin giving them a nasty glare through the monitor screen. It’s just his pride. He feels like the creator of these Bangtan-style Discord emojis should have added a little more length. Yoongi will not deny or confirm whether or not they should have. Still, he can’t help but chuckle as Jimin tries to convince everyone about the truth they already know of.

“Yeah, Jimin. It’s not that serious,” Namjoon chimes in.

He’s taken a seat on the couch, bored with the big discovery they made just a few minutes ago. Someone approached and told them about a website dedicated to Discord emojis. Apparently, a creator’s newest NSFW uploads are BTS-inspired superhero cocks. And well, they just had to see it to believe it.

“Easy for you guys to say. Your cocks are perfect!”

“Well, thanks Jimin,” Jungkook laughs.

“Shut up! You know what I meant.”

He’s not lying, though. This is pure talent. The amount of effort and detail you put into the craft doesn’t go unnoticed. No wonder everyone’s talking about this.

“Jimin, why don’t you just contact the creator? The info is in their bio,” Hoseok suggests.

Jimin and Taehyung begin searching for your number together, both being displeased with their results. While they bicker, Yoongi starts going through the rest of the content.

“And what does yours look like, hm?” Jungkook teases.

Yoongi turns to the youngest member and shrugs. “Don’t know. Didn’t look.”

He returns to scrolling, but Jungkook snatches the mouse out of his hand.

“Well, let’s see,” Jungkook insists. He returns to the newest uploads and looks through the members until he finds the Suga-Man emoji.

“I don’t care about that shit. I know what my dick looks like—”

When Yoongi sees his emoji, he nearly knocks Jungkook to the floor while he tries to regain control of the mouse. He cannot believe his eyes. It’s nothing like the real thing at all. Yoongi’s appalled.

“Where are my details?!”

He catches his outburst seconds after it is too late. All of the members heard him cry out due to the distasteful site. He looks over at Seokjin.

“They forgot some stuff,” he repeats.

“Okay.”

His mouth drops at Seokjin’s lack of empathy. 

“Well, I must be the least favorite member,” Yoongi concludes.

“Dude, we don’t talk like that. Remember?”

“Then explain why mine is so plain?!”

Seokjin sighs. “I’ll give you your own advice, bro. It’s not that serious.”

But it is. His emoji dick looks so basic. He has layers that make him unique too. This is so embarrassing.

“Jimin, I don’t think you’re supposed to call the number,” Taehyung shouts, trying to chase down a frantic Jimin.

They’ve somehow managed to find your Instagram and your business number. Jimin couldn’t wait for a second to dial the digits and speak with you, and neither can he.

When Jimin comes beside him for protection from Taehyung, Yoongi grabs the phone and instantly hears it ringing. He starts tapping the desk impatiently, ignoring Jimin’s wails and pleas. He’ll give him the phone after he’s done so he can whine, but this is urgent. You need to make the necessary changes to his emoji immediately or take it down completely. 

If you don’t… Well, he’ll cross that bridge when he gets there.

Just when he believes it’ll go to voicemail, someone answers the phone. They introduce themselves as the creator and ask how they may insist. Yoongi introduces himself also, and after 5 minutes of back and forth because you thought you were getting pranked, he FaceTimes you.

“Woah. It is you,” you gasp. “All of you.”

“Yeah. Anyway, back to our discussion.”

You blink your eyes as if you’re snapping out of a trance, then look directly at Yoongi.

“Sorry, what were you saying? I wasn’t listening because I thought you were fucking with me,” you admit.

With a groan, Yoongi repeats himself.

“Those emojis you made, the Bangtan Super Cock set. It’s inaccurate.”

“No, it’s not,” you deny.

The other members are summoned by Namjoon for practice, and Yoongi waves, signaling he’ll be following shortly.

“Oh, hell yeah it is,” he scoffs.

“How so?”

Yoongi can hear mischief in your voice. He wasn’t born yesterday. He knows how this goes.

“Look, all I’m saying is mine has no texture or detail. It’s boring and looks nothing like the real thing.”

Your giggles have him both annoyed and amused because you’re actually kind of cute. You’re definitely not someone he’d suspect to be making these types of things.

“What texture or details did I neglect to add, Suga-Man?”

“Cut the shit,” he orders, but you continue to tease. 

He’s thankful the others are out of here because he’d never hear the end of this.

“Can you just add something to make it look less sleek?” 

“No,” you cackle. “Why would I do that?”

“Because—”

He almost slips up, but he catches himself.

“Look, just do it or I’ll sue you,” he threatens.

“You can’t do that.”

“I can try.”

There is more laughter on your end of the line before you eventually stop and tilt your head.

“Why does it matter so much?” you ask. “I mean… It must be serious if you called this number. No one calls this number. I’m just a small content creator.”

You make it seem like your work isn’t mind blowing. He wouldn’t know where to start, and yet you have hundreds of emojis created, and they’re free. But he can’t go on like this. Not when he knows there’s a misrepresentation of his cock going around. No way.

“Just add some veins, and that’ll do,” he mutters.

Once again, you giggle.

“Nope. My creations come from my mind, and that is what my brain told me to draw.”

“You hate me, don’t you?”

“Of course not,” you assure. “You’re my bias.”

“Then add the effects and make me look good!”

“It doesn’t work like that,” you argue. 

Yoongi pinches the bridge of his nose and tries his best to work on an effective strategy.

“I’ll pay you,” he offers, but you refuse.

“I’m good.”

Silence follows, and you both are just staring at each other at this point. Time is winding down, and Namjoon will come looking for him in a minute. The longer he stays on this call, the bigger the risk he has of getting caught. He’s already playing a dangerous game. You could be recording all of this, and he wouldn’t know until it’s slapping him in the face. This really wasn’t worth getting flustered over now that he thinks about it.

“Why are you so passionate about this?” you ask. He can hear the genuine curiosity in your tone, so he answers truthfully.

“My cock isn’t boring,” he repeats. “It’s not average.”

A long sigh travels past your semi-parted lips as you lean forward, getting closer to the screen. Damn, you aren’t just cute. You’re hot. Now he’s definitely embarrassed. 

Your smirk has him thinking you’ll show pity but looks can be very deceiving he’ll learn. You end the call with a challenge.

“Prove it.”

Yoongi sits there until the members physically force him to come practice. He never mentions what happened on that phone call, but best believe, it’s still lingering in his mind.

#yoongi x reader #yoongi fanfics #bts x reader #bts fanfics #yoongi imagines #bts imagines #bangtanbathhouse #kvanity #suga x reader #suga fanfics #suga imagines #fic: big deal #sugakookitty