#if it wasn’t obvious enough I’ve been having sleeping problems for a while

[honeydippedwaffles]

Smallest Drop - Part 4

Summary: Tav isn't sure how honest she can be with Astarion when any form of genuine emotion startles him into running away from her while he tries to figure out what more they can share beyond sex.

There will be a part 5. Astarion needs to learn to handle this new situation.

Content Warnings: She/Her Tav

Word Count: 2.5k words

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

They walked on a knife’s edge. It remained clear as day to her even if Astarion held the title of least forthcoming person in the world. A minor miracle given she spent so much time of her time trying to work out what Shadowheart’s situation entailed.

But Astarion trusted her with almost nothing and she didn’t have any certainty it would change.

She accepted it. The only problem she found dogging her was she understood almost nothing about what he wanted.

His teasing was obvious; honey words with so much falsity, they could drown her if she let them. She may have accepted his offers to spend the night tangled together had it not been for his expressions. His heart wasn’t in it and so she thought that too came of lies and mere fun.

So, she turned him down with just as much laughter.

Wyll warned her about it before she realised for herself. He commented while they shared a drink and she waxed her usual poetry about Astarion’s eyes.

“You must be careful,” Wyll said. “I’ve known plenty of men like him and they hide their emotions well but it makes it no less real. He’s going to think you’re not interested in him anymore.”

“But after what happened the first time, he’s the one who didn’t have fun.”

“Doesn’t matter. In his mind, you slept together once and just became what? Flirtatious friends? Without any definition, he’s going to think you didn’t enjoy it or presume you found a replacement.”

“Oh, that’s not what the problem was and you know it.”

“I do but he doesn’t.”

She pouted over her wine.

The night had been memorable for sure: his words sweet and his technique perfect but something ripped her away from it. As good as he was, nothing felt real. He moved with practised ease, forgoing any playful teases or comments she expected and replaced them all with generic compliments about her body.

When his teeth sunk into her neck, sharp and icy as they had been the first time, she’d seen a little more of him. He slowed down, stopped overwhelming her with sensation, and just existed. But when he’d moved away and she moaned his name softly, it sent him spiralling straight back into the act again and the compliments returned to lines from a script.

But she wasn’t exactly about to go and tell him she didn’t have fun. It would be a lie either way. She just saw no reason to rush into it once more.

Not until she understood him a little better.

“Can you imagine what he’d say if I brought something like this up? The thought of it alone provides enough anxiety to keep me quiet.”

Wyll chuckled. “I’ll tell Karlach for you. I’m sure she’ll happily proclaim the situation to the entire camp and the next city over.”

She rolled her eyes and drank from her goblet. “Don’t you dare.”

Without any events like the party though, she saw no opportunity to bring the problem back up and instead just returned his flirtations in kind. It worried her but she could find it in herself to break their little game with a topic as sensitive as emotions. Those were some of Astarion’s least favourite things.

Yet Wyll’s prediction appeared doomed to fruition and late one evening after she retired to her tent, she found herself wholly unable to sleep thanks to incessant whispering.

Not from her own mind (thank the gods) but from the only other tent close enough to hear into.

“I know vampires have no need of rest,” she said after skulking over, arms crossed over her chest. “But if that infernal book doesn’t keep quiet, it will likely drive me to madness.”

Astarion’s eyes darted up to her, smiling over the top as though he had no realisation of what he’d been doing. She adored the way the torchlight flickered over his skin and humiliated herself with how quickly irritation waned under his gaze.

“My apologies,” he hummed. “I’m so close to uncovering its secrets. I couldn’t bear to put it down yet.”

Sometimes, she wondered if she made the right decision handing the book to him instead of Gale. Though the wizard may have consumed the weave within, she likely would worry a little less.

“What are you hoping to gain from reading it?”

He traced the outside cover thoughtfully. “Books like this always hold power. With how well-guarded this one is, I can’t imagine what secrets it contains.”

“Seems dangerous.”

“Aren’t we all?”

He tucked the book back into a chest in his tent and lounged backwards on his bedroll, gesturing for her to join him. She did, sitting close but not quite touching, cross-legged instead of sprawled over the ground as she did when she invited him to stargaze with her.

If she had been more awake, she’d probably worry about accidentally upsetting him in any way. His voice soothed her usually but now it only put her on edge.

The perfect smile, composed through masterful talent and designed to make her happy, graced his lips. She knew she likely fell for his falsities more often than she thought but he wouldn’t catch her now.

She sat up straighter and waited, allowing him to speak first.

Eventually he did with a dramatic gesture. “I’ve finally figured you out and I must say, you surprised me. I’m impressed.”

“Thank you?”

He laughed but she didn’t join. “Normally, I’m incredibly good at sensing when people have, shall we say, other interests, but you managed to keep it quiet for longer than I thought possible.”

“I’m not sure if it’s the sleep deprivation but I really need a better explanation.”

He sighed, put out by her naiveness perhaps. “I overheard a comment from our resident cleric and I learned why our late-night trysts have come to an end. A pity. They were the one thing I looked forward to with perpetual doom looming.”

Her blood ran cold and she sat up a little straighter. “What?”

Astarion smiled as though they were merely friends gossiping about her newest fling. “Don’t worry, I’m happy for you, you know. What we had was a great deal of fun but that’s really all it was. I think it’ll be good for you to find your footing with something a little more permanent.”

Unsure if she was still half-asleep or not, she shook her head to try and understand. “Was that all I was to you?” she asked. “Fun?”

“Oh no, not at all. I mean, you were a lot of fun, but I understand even the best entertainment can get boring when you find somebody else.”

“Who else could I be sleeping with?”

“I don’t know if it’s gone that far,” he said with a chuckle. “Wyll’s rather stuck in the past, in more ways than one. He seems the type to really hold himself to a standard for the first time.”

Wyll? She glanced towards his tent on instinct, confused by the comment. The Blade of Frontiers certainly got along brilliantly with her; they’d made fast friends between shared stories but she held as much physical attraction to him as she did towards any of the others.

Though admittedly he hadn’t offered to taste her sweat yet so that gave him a small edge over certain friends.

“Astarion,” she said, making sure she didn’t falter when he answered her with the cutest hum. “I’m not doing anything with Wyll. He’s my friend but nothing more and even if you were right… I don’t think there’s anybody I would choose over you.”

“What? Why?”

“You must be blind if you’ve missed how I look at you.”

“I mean, obviously I’ve noticed your interest. If you didn’t like me, it would say everything about your taste but we had our fun. I really don’t mind so long as I can keep all those delicious memories of the time we spent together.”

“I mind dating Wyll though?”

“Really? He’s handsome enough for a fiend, don’t you think? And he certain suits your whole hero complex.”

“Hero complex?”

Astarion rolled his eyes. “Don’t take it personally, darling. Everybody loves your whole commitment to doing good deeds and I’ve almost developed an immunity to it. Almost. Regardless, Wyll suits you awfully well. Your future could be written into the history books, legends of saving poor, innocent puppies and then, when you get bored of your domestic life… well, I’ll definitely never oppose a quick, dirty affair.”

Her mouth tasted bitter at the idea.

“Well, you can imagine your fantasy however you want but I’m not going to be sharing anything more than a bottle of wine with Wyll.”

He appeared genuinely irritated at her insistence. She’d noticed his habit of baring his fangs when something annoyed him, often wanting to gently touch them. Why did this matter so much at him?

“Oh,” he finally said. “Glad to have cleared it up. You may want to tell Shadowheart before she blurts it to the entire Sword Coast.”

Shadowheart likely said nothing of the sort. None of her companions missed the small flame she held for Astarion.

None except him, it would seem.

“Are you upset because we haven’t slept together recently?”

The question caught him off-guard but he recovered quickly, smiling a familiar coy smirk as he answered. “I do admit, I’ve been worried for your mental health. They say it’s very bad to sleep alone, you know.”

Okay, so it had been related. She’d hoped he realised by himself that she wasn’t trying to slight or disregard him.

“Is it important to you?”

His smirk faltered, incredulous and confused. “Is what important to me?”

She gestured at the space between them, trying to convey herself as clearly as she could. “Fun, or whatever you keep calling it. Is that like a super big thing for us to do?”

Maybe she could make it all about her for now. She could pretend the problem came from her side rather than admitting to the truth.

He looked incredibly bored when he answered. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“As great as you are at everything, I don’t know, I was thinking we could share a relationship that’s a little more than just fun.”

“More?”

“Unless you’re not comfortable with it.”

She had genuinely confused him and he took a few seconds to think about it, gaze drifting off and over her shoulder to something else. When he looked back at her, his expression was unreadable.

“We… we can try for more,” he said. “If you want. You know, if that’s what was keeping you from enjoying the finer things of life, you needed only to say. We could have started on this whole ‘more’ thing days ago and then you can enjoy all of me, guilt-free.”

“Strangely, I enjoy more about your company than how talented you are in other fields,” she said, sarcastic. “If all I wanted was sex, I could have ditched you lot in the first town and hired a brothel. The heavens know I have enough gold.”

He scoffed. “You wouldn’t have half of it if you didn’t have an uncanny knack for finding merchants who will buy your junk.”

“And I wouldn’t have half the junk I do if not for the rogue I drag to every chest,” she teased.

“Ah so it’s not because of my talents, it’s because you don’t know what a lockpick is.”

She would laugh if she didn’t fear he may genuinely think that to be a reason she wanted him around. He may have pushed aside their earlier conversation but the worries lingered in her mind.

She’d spent too many hours with this man to have him believe she didn’t genuinely just enjoy his personality. She’d sketched his laugh lines, listened to the way he teased their friends, dragged him closer to the group so he stopped hovering in the darkness.

“Astarion?” she said and she ran her fingers over the back of his hand so he’d look at her. “Is it really so hard to believe I drag you around to these places because I like spending time with you?”

He chuckled. “Of course not. Have you met me?”

“As long as you know.”

He tilted his head towards her, red eyes burning through her with an unreadable emotion. “It’s the type of noble thing you do. You collect all these crazy people from their situations to save them. They might not be helpful to you in the future but maybe you can be their hero.”

“What?”

“Come now, nobody else would gather this little ragtag group just because we share an eye infection.”

“The only person I can think of who might’ve needed saving is Gale and I didn’t really do it because I wanted to be a hero,” she said. “And I suppose I tried to help you but you asked for assistance first and I wasn’t about to abandon some random vampire in the sun.”

“Well, you didn’t know I was a vampire then.”

She hesitated. “I really did. The eyes could have been drow parent or something but the fangs and the scar really gave you away.”

He chuckled so she hoped her words didn’t offend him. She didn’t know how he even felt about appearing so obviously like a vampire. If his appearance didn’t give him away though, she’d known the second he grabbed her and she felt the chill of death on her skin.

His lack of ability to lie when they found the boar made it even more clear.

She wanted to lace their fingers together but he’d moved his hands away, not even fully focused on her. Something in their conversation had confused him more than he cared to admit.

“You really are beautiful,” she chose to say. “I think it every day when I look at you.”

“Obviously,” he said. “Though it wouldn’t hurt for you to say it a little more. I’ve only heard those words from your mouth about four times which is nowhere near enough.”

She laughed. “Well, you are stunning. I can appreciate it even without our midnight visits.”

He sighed dramatically. “You know, with how against sex you are, I’m going to start to think you didn’t enjoy yourself at all.”

“I did but I just know you didn’t.”

He went still and she cursed herself for the thoughtless comment. She’d gotten too used to defending herself to the others by pointing it out that she spoke without intending to.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “I’ll never forget our night together. It was one of my favourites.”

Should she apologise? She wasn’t sure but before she could, he got up from his bedroll and smiled. After a moment of consideration, he pressed a light kiss to the side of her mouth awkwardly.

“Right,” he said. “I need to hunt before tomorrow. You should catch up on that rest.” And he left her alone, fingers brushing against the spot he kissed, wondering how she could fix this one.

Taglist: @cassiopeia-adaar , @yikes-buddy

#baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate astarion #astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader

[cutielando]

Hello, can I request draco x muggleborn! reader where the reader is actually a member of the royal family in the muggle world?

family relations

my masterlist

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Princess!Muggleborn!Reader

Being a Muggleborn was hard in the wizarding world. Especially when confronted with people who didn't believe that you were worthy of having magical powers.

But being a Muggleborn while dating Draco Malfoy, practically magic royalty? Now that was a whole other story.

Draco didn't care that you weren't a Pureblood. He loved you regardless of that. His mother was the same, she was just happy that her son found someone to love and cherish.

Lucius was the problem.

Ever since Draco decided to tell his parents about your relationship, his father made it very obvious to him how much he disliked you and didn't approve of you. You'd never even met the guy and he already hated you.

But that was all going to change because Draco had decided to take you to his house for dinner during spring break.

"Are you sure you want me to come? I don't want to be the reason you fight with your father" you had asked Draco one night before while you were lying on the couch in the Slytherin common room.

"I'm sure. My mother has been insisting that she meets you and we've put it off enough. I don't care what my father has to say, I'll still love you no matter what" he explained, pecking your lips to reassure you.

"Have you told them the 'thing' about me?" you asked quietly, not trusting that others wouldn't hear your secret and make a big deal out of it.

"Not yet, figured I should wait and we'll tell them over dinner. Maybe my father will come around and respect you when he hears"

You thought for a second and nodded, leaning back into Draco's embrace and letting the warmth emanating from his body envelop you and lull you into a peaceful sleep.

♡♡♡♡♡

"Are you sure about this? Last chance to run" you told Draco as you stood in front of Malfoy Manor, your hand tightly gripping his.

“Love, I’m sure. Are you sure you’re up for this? We don’t have to if you want to” he turned to you and put the hand that wasn’t holding yours on your cheek.

You looked him in the eye for a minute, feeling safe and sound as you let his eyes calm you down.

“Let’s do this. Together” you finally spoke up, determined to get this over with and make it work.

Draco smiled and leaned down, pecking your lips and then forehead.

As you sarted walking towards the front entrance, a million thoughts started racing through your mind.

You were so engrossed in your own mind that you didn’t even notice you were already standing in front of the large black oak doors, Draco having already knocked.

A small, petite house elf opened the door and bowed immediately to his master, scrambling to usher you inside.

“Master Draco, your presence has been highly anticipated. Mistress Y/N, your presence has been waited upon as well. Master Lucius and Mistress Narcissa are waiting for you in the dining hall” the elf explained before quickly hurrying down the corridor and entering, what you presumed was, the kitchen.

“Ready?” Draco whispered, standing in front of you and holding your arms.

You nodded, giving him a small smile.

He returned it and pecked your forehead before taking your hand again and entering the room.

Lucius was sitting at the head of the long dining table and Narcissa was sitting next to him, smiling once he saw you entering.

“My boy, oh how I’ve missed you” she got up once we reached her and enveloped Draco in a tight hug, the boy returning the gesture.

When they pulled away, Narcissa turned to you and smiled.

“Hello, Mrs. Malfoy. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you” you said swiftly, tryinf to calm your nerves.

“You’re even more beautiful than Draco described” she gushed and pulled you in a hug, chuckling when she heard Draco swear under his breath.

A sudden cough made you all freeze. Narcissa pulled away from you and turned to her husband, gesturing for you to sit down next to him.

“This is my husband, Lucius. Lucius, you remember Y/N from Draco’s letters, don’t you?” Narcissa put her hand on his shoulder, most probably considering she could take control of the situation.

“I remember her vividly. The Mudblood, of course” he spit, venom clear as day in his voice.

“Father!” Draco hissed, glaring at him.

“I thought I told you to never bring this Mudblood into my house. What is she doing here?” Lucius asked Draco, glaring at you from the corner of his eye.

“You will not speak to her that way. She is not a Mudblood and she is certainly not your common Muggleborn” he said and stopped, looking at you for approval.

You gave him a small smile and nodded, resting your hand on his leg in order to keep him calm.

“Oh, she’s special now, isn’t she? Do tell me, what could possibly make this girl special?”

“I’m a member of the Royal Family” you spoke up for the first time in front of Lucius before Draco could speak.

The silence that filled the room was thick, almost deafening. Lucius was staring at you like you had grown two heads, Narcissa was beaming at you and Draco was sitting back in his chair, enjoying the reaction from his father.

“Excuse me?” Lucius finally said, his face as white as a sheet.

“I’m a member of the Muggle Royal Family. Quite literally a princess”

Lucius was silent for a minute, deep in thought, before he slowly nodded.

“In that case, I would like to apologize for my harsh words and behavior towards you, Y/N. You have my blessing to date my son and consider this your home from this day forward” he nodded curtly and stood up, walking away from you three and leaving the room.

You turned to look at Draco, whose smile was as wide and bright as the Sun.

“Told you” he said, making you roll your eyes.

You were just glad his parents finally approved of you and Lucius came around.

Because there was no way in hell you were leaving Draco.

Ever.

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[kittyofalltrades]

Stolen Pajamas and Ghibli

Just a little comfort for whoever needs it right now.

Beta: myself I can’t spell sorry

Paring: Steven Grant x Reader (gender unspecified)

Warning: Fluff and Steven being cute

Words: 1196

It had been one of those days, one of those days for a fucking week now. It seemed that everything that could go wrong had gone wrong, including missing time with your boyfriend Steven. Donna had finally been forced to give him the tour guide position and while he relished it, you missed how easy it was to see him. He seemed so happy that you couldn’t diminish it with your problems.

So after a shit week and no Steven you finally caved and went to his apartment, and knocked. It was the polite thing to do even though you had the key and could enter at any time. You briefly considered leaving but decided against it. You let yourself in when you didn’t receive an answer and wandered around his apartment brushing your fingers over his things, trying to find comfort before you left again. But it wasn’t enough. You needed one of Steven’s bone crushing hugs, the kind that made you feel like he was smushing all your broken pieces back together. You decided on the next best thing. You rifled through his dresser and pulled out a pair of his pajamas and pulled them on. You laughed at how they fit, Steven really did have an hourglass figure and his pajamas made that more obvious than his regular loud shirts did. But they were comfortable on your body so you didn’t protest much.

Steven stumbled into the flat tired but happy from another successful shift as tour guide. He kicked off his shoes right near the door and headed to bed ready to crash. He knew he should have dinner first but he was too exhausted to think about it. He went to his dresser intent on his favorite pajamas but found them missing. It was okay he thought one night sleeping in his boxers wouldn’t kill him. He stripped and headed to his bed, with a quick pull of his covers he found you curled up under the bed deeply asleep in his favorite pajamas.

Steven’s face softened and he felt a little guilt, he’d been so deliriously happy he’d forgotten to check in as often as usual. He climbed into the bed and pulled the blanket over you both with a sigh. You meant the world to him and had to resort to climbing into his bed in his favorite pajamas for comfort. If you woke up he’d show you how much he appreciated you.

Your stomach growling woke you, and you cringed when you realised that you’d fallen asleep in Steven’s bed. A warm arm around you cued you in that you weren’t alone, and you rolled over to find Steven in bed with his curls slightly tousled as he snored softly. You brushed a few stray hairs away from his forehead making him stir and give you a sweet smile.

“Morning love, I’m sorry I haven’t been around much recently. Things have been crazy,” he told you softly. “I want to make it up to you.”

Your heart squeezed at his words, it felt like he was saying he was a bad boyfriend and honestly that was the straw that broke the camel's back on your bad week. A few tears slid down your cheeks and you turned away from Steven not wanting him to see you cry. Nobody saw you cry and you didn’t want him to be the first.

“Oh no love I’m sorry what did I do wrong?” Steven asked, worry coating his words while he wrapped you in a hug.

“I’ve had a shitty week. It’s just been one thing after the other and now you think you’re a bad boyfriend for enjoying your job, it's just too much,” you told him while you wiped the tears away. No tears, no crying, you told yourself angrily. Tears elicited pity and sympathy that you didn’t want.

“No don’t cry I’m sorry,” Steven says quickly. “Here I’ll show you I’m not a bad boyfriend. I’ll make your day better.”

Steven climbed out of the bed and took the blanket with him, making you protest the loss of warmth. Within minutes you heard the sounds of popcorn popping and the opening sounds of a movie, it sounded familiar. You ventured out of the bed to find that a nest had been made on the couch with the pilfered blanket. Just as you arrived your favorite song from the Howl’s Moving Castle started to play. And you swayed to the song a little while Sophie talked to her sister on the screen.

Steven walked out of the kitchen holding a big bowl of popcorn wearing a smile. “I know it’s a little late but it’s your favorite movie and I thought it might cheer you up.”

Steven helped you climb into the nest of blankets on the sofa and he passed over the bowl of popcorn. Once you were settled he climbed in behind you and wrapped his arms around you.

“I’m sorry you had a bad day but I hope this helps make it better,” Steven whispered before dropping a kiss on top of your head.

The rest of the night was spent being held by Steven while you watched your favorite Ghibli movies, ending with Howl’s Moving Castle a second time. You tried to insist that he didn’t need to play the movie a second time, especially so late, but he insisted that it was what you needed.

“I love you and if watching this movie with you fourteen times in a row makes you smile again I’ll do it,” Steven said firmly. Then his cheeks heated at the realization of what he said. He’d planned to tell you he loved you but he wanted it to be special. But the more he thought about it the more he realized this was special. “I love you.”

Your heart swelled with happiness when he repeated the words. “I love you too Steven.”

This time when tears leaked down your cheeks they were tears of happiness. In just a little while Steven had taken your shit week and made it better. You pressed a soft kiss to his lips and settled down against him again. “And don’t worry we don’t need to watch it fourteen times in a row….six should work,” you teased.

“If we’re going to do six we may as well do fourteen, it’s only fair,” Steven replied while he dropped another kiss onto the top of your head.

At some point you fell asleep during the second watch of Howl’s Moving Castle and Steven stopped it. Instead he started the soundtrack to play while he carried you to bed to sleep. He looked down at you, and promised dream job or no, he was going to be there for you more often. You shouldn’t have needed to crawl into his empty bed for comfort and he’d make sure it never happened again.

#moon knight #steven grant #steven grant x reader #steven grant fluff

[messedupfan]

I'm With You | 11

Summary: Wanda wants to be a friend to Y/n when she needs it the most but feels as though she can't. Pietro steps in and offers Y/n advice. Y/n makes some tough decisions.

A/N: Hello!! I don't have much to say other than I hope y'all are happy and healthy. Enjoy!

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Sitting in her room, Y/n feels the familiar pain that came with loving Natasha. Was this feeling worth fighting for? She asks herself. She thought she was fighting for the woman that saved her. The woman that didn't leave her side as she waited for her to wake up. Only for her to be someone she doesn't recognize. 

Wanda had overheard the argument as she was walking out of a training session. She waited outside Y/n's room. Not quite sure how she wanted to approach her. She didn't want it to confuse the girl anymore than she was. But she wanted to be a friend for her. She didn't want her to think she was being there for ulterior motives. Her brother spots her outside the girls room and steps quietly closer to her. 

“What’s happening?” He whispers, startling his sister. 

Wanda smacks his chest. “Don’t do that!” she scolds. He laughs quietly as he asks the question. “She needs a friend.” She looks at the door with her worry. 

“So… go in there,” he says as if it's that simple. 

“I can't,” Wanda replies. 

“Why not? You are her friend. Go be her friend,” he directs.

“It’s a little more complicated than that,” she retorts. 

“How so?” Pietro presses. 

Not wanting to discuss her feelings at the moment, Wanda evades the question. “It just is, okay?”

Pietro shakes his head. “I’ll go in there, you tell me what you want to say.” Wanda scowls as she asks how she is supposed to do that and he taps his head as if it's obvious before knocking on Y/n's door. Ignoring her plea to be left alone, Pietro walks right in. “Hey, I uh, wasn't eavesdropping but, I heard things going south with you and Natasha. Thought you might need someone to talk to.” He says every word that Wanda sends to his mind. Then the girl tries to connect to his ears. To hear what he is hearing. 

“Thank you Pietro, but it's okay. You don't want to hear about my problems. Especially when some of them involve your sister,” she wipes her tears. 

“What about my sister has you shedding tears?” he asks protectively. “I am older than her by ten minutes, you know. Just say the word and I'll make sure-”

Y/n laughs through her tears, “It’s nothing like that. But thank you Pietro.”

“Then what's the matter?” He presses. Wanda fills him in on what happened as he waits for the girl's response.

Y/n looks at the man and sighs, “You’re not going to leave me alone are you?”

Pietro shakes his head. “Nope! You're stuck with me until I've helped.”

“I see why Wanda is happy to finally have her own space,” she teases as she continues to mull over the idea of opening up to him. 

Pietro laughs, “She’ll never have her own space. Not until I'm dead. No,” he thinks about it for a second. “I take that back. I will haunt her so she never knows peace,” he concludes proudly. Wanda rolls her eyes but smiles when she hears Y/n’s laughter. Her brother is many things and to many people. Very few knew about the kindness in his heart, she’s glad to know that he trusts Y/n enough to show that side of him. 

“Okay,” Y/n takes a breath. “I found out that while I was hurting over Natasha she was getting pleasured by a friend of hers. Then when she was claiming to be searching for me every second of every day while I was being tortured by Hydra, she was still finding time to sleep with that friend. Now,” she sighs at a loss. “I don’t know if I can forgive her for not being committed to me the same way I’ve been committed to her.” 

Pietro nods, “I see,” he stalls a bit as he waits for Wanda’s advice but she has gone silent as she feels Y/n’s pain. She is shocked by the feeling. She wasn’t an empath as far as she knew. They only ever discovered telepathic abilities from her. Maybe it was the bond she had created with Y/n over that time. Maybe there was something more to it or nothing at all. She didn’t have time to figure it out now. Right now, she needs to focus on helping you feel better. “Can I ask, why is it difficult to forgive your girlfriend for her infidelity during your time in captivity, but it was easy to forgive my sister for participating in the torment you faced from Hydra?” 

“She told you I forgave her, huh?” He confirms and Y/n considers her response. Why was one thing easier to forgive than the other? “Because Nat knows how I feel about her and loyalty and monogamy. Whereas Wanda wasn’t directly harming me when we were in Hydra. Besides, though you guys were technically part of that organization, you were just as much a prisoner as I was. She was doing what she had to do in order to survive. Nat was being selfish.”

Pietro nods, letting the information digest himself and worries less about what Wanda has to say. “Why is my sister part of your problems?” He asks on his own. 

“This is kind of awkward to admit because I was just talking about being cheated on and the intense betrayal that I feel from that. But, I have strong confusing feelings towards Wanda. We connect in ways that Nat and I never have before. There are moments between her and I where we’re just talking and that are, I don’t mean to gross you out here but, they are full of more intimacy than anytime I’ve had sex with Nat… ever.”

Pietro wears a soft smile as he sees only positives for his sister's future. There were buddies in the past that talked about his sister like she was an object. They would try to get him to connect them to her by saying how they’re meant to be because she is hot and they would have attractive children together. Whereas Y/n was describing that this close friendship she developed with Wanda over the months is what has attracted her the most. “It’s not gross. It’s actually really sweet.” 

Wanda is touched by this admission as well but starts to feel guilty about overhearing this without your knowledge or consent. She lets Pietro know just that and he assures her that he can take it from here. Wanda walks away from the room to give them space and go to her next training session. Which unfortunately is with a very upset Natasha. 

“Here’s what I think you should do,” Pietro starts. “I think you need to end things with Natasha and focus on yourself. I don’t think your struggle is who you want to be with. Deep down, you know who. What you need to do to retrieve that answer from within yourself is to discover what you’re looking for in a partner. What you need from someone, what you’re willing to give them, how you’re willing to be treated and how you will treat them in return. The type of relationship you want. The type of challenges you need from someone who will help you grow for the better. Learning whether or not you want chaos or stability. Discovering not only what’s best for you but what will potentially be best for your partner. Whoever that may be. You need to be by yourself and figure these things out. Otherwise, no matter who you choose in the end, the relationship will be doomed from the start.” 

Y/n is speechless. She had no idea that Pietro could be so wise from the way Wanda talked about him. He was just this stubborn, overprotective, goofball to her. “Thank you,” she says as she takes his advice to heart. There was a lot that she needed to figure out. She once admitted to Wanda that part of her thing with Natasha was being trapped in this unpredictable cycle of highs and lows. She was fine with that when that’s all she thought was possible for her. But now, she was presented with the opportunity of experiencing something better and she was going to destroy it if she wasn’t careful. “You’ve given me a lot to think about. I think you’re right. I’m in no shape to be dating right now.” You agree to his assessment. 

“So, have I helped?” Pietro asks and Y/n laughs a little. 

“Yes, you can go now. I have to figure out what I’m going to tell Nat,” she sighs as she flops back onto her bed. She has so much to figure out. She had no clue how to start that conversation. She had no idea when to have that conversation. It wasn’t happening today, she wasn’t in the mood to deal with more drama today. So she asks Jarvis to pull up a calendar to help her figure out what day might work best for her. The A.I. projects a digital calendar in front of her when she is suddenly informed what day it will occur. She witnesses the scene unfold and then when it's over, the information is whipped from her memory with only the date marked on the calendar. 

Y/n leaves her room and doesn’t think about her problems again. She returns to the lab to finish the suit. Wanda surprises her with a visit and the two talk and laugh and enjoy each other’s company. She takes an interest in what Y/n is doing so the girl begins to teach her how to use the tools and which tools to use on certain parts.

Tony is in the room the entire time and he can’t help but take notice of the interaction. He wasn’t thrilled when he found out about his colleague and his daughter being in a romantic relationship together. But after everything that Y/n had been through, he wasn’t going to share his disapproval with her. If the double agent is what made her happy then so be it. But in the weeks since she has been back, he took note of the difference in interaction when it came to Wanda and Natasha. Now, he would prefer that Y/n didn’t want either of them. She deserved more than a spy and a Hydra experiment. But these seemed to be the people she attracted. He hides a smile as he remembers the kinds of people her mother had attracted and now he can’t say he is too surprised. 

Out of the two options his daughter has felt compelled to, she seemed to be the happiest and at ease the most when she was with Wanda. Tony decides then that he is going to do as much vetting on the Sokovian orphan as possible before he gives his daughter his stamp of approval. It’s what she deserves. Not someone who is sloppy enough to cheat on her in the building her father owns. He almost didn’t believe it when Jarvis informed him of the infidelity. He figured that a trained assassin would have been the best at not getting caught. 

Once the suit is done, Y/n asks Wanda if she can speak to her about something important in one of their rooms. The brunette holds her breath as she agrees and leads Y/n over to her living quarters. The two sit on the love seat in the room and are nervous with each other as the conversation has an awkward start. 

“I have decided to break things off with Nat,” Y/n blurts out. 

Wanda is shocked and doesn’t know how to proceed, “Oh, okay.”

“And I want you to know that I do have feelings for you. They are true and they are strong,” the Stark continues and Wanda reaches over to hold her hand and help her through the conversation. “But I can’t be with you until I heal myself. I made an appointment with a therapist and I’m going to start to sort out my shit from there.”

“That’s really great, Y/n. I’m happy for you.” She pulls the girl closer to hug her and they fall into each other's arms easily. 

“Thank you,” she nuzzles her face into Wanda’s shoulder before she pulls away. “I just wanted you to know that I do feel that way about you. However, I don’t want you to feel like you have to wait for me. If someone comes along that is ready to love you and give you everything you could ever desire, let them in. Okay? I don’t want to hold you back if we’re not meant to be. And-”

“Y/n!” Wanda calls out for the third time to get you to stop talking. “Hey, let’s not think that far ahead, okay? I can’t make you do anything but I do ask that you take this journey one day at a time. Don’t think about me, don’t think about Natasha, just focus on you. Okay?”

Y/n nods as she feels tears well up in her eyes, not familiar with this kind of support. “Thank you,” she repeats and Wanda giggles as she lets the girl know that the expression of gratitude is unnecessary. “Please keep this between us until I figure out how to talk to Nat.” 

“Of course, you know your secrets are always safe with me.” Wanda promises. “Now come on, we’re going to hang out in that theater room your dad won’t stop talking about.” She gets up off of the couch and holds her hand out to drag Y/n out of the room. “We can even invite my brother and Steve if you’d like.” 

“As much as I would love to be alone with you, I think that’s a really great idea,” the two leave the room to hunt down the other two so Y/n can take her mind off the rollercoaster of a day.

Chapter 12

Taglist: @chaisreading @vivs46 @thatvillain @doudouneverte

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda marvel #wanda maximoff au #wanda x you #wanda maxmoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x reader #y/n stark #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff x you #pietro maximoff

[lucyandthepen]

(give me that) can't sleep love | cyj

you’ve been managing yeonjun flawlessly for a few good years now, but there are just some things you can’t keep under control. the obvious solution? a blind date that skews towards the unexpected.

pairing: solo idol!yeonjun x reader rating: T genre: romance warnings: none! like the narrative has a swear word like idk once? word count: 3.5k 

author’s notes: yeah it’s not actually valentine’s day but we write for a completely new fandom because we simply have no restraint !! just kidding, i’ve actually been hoping to extend my writing for other groups, but i haven’t yet because i’m extremely slow and a bit fickle. this is my first time writing for anything txt, but i hope to do so a bit more in the future! 

if you like it, please consider reblogging to help spread the word!

Maybe your mom was right. Maybe the entertainment industry just isn’t for you.

She’d actively warned you against dedicating your time to, well, anything involving the glitz and glam, but you just hadn’t listened. There had been good opportunities, great experiences you’d never get anywhere else. For the most part, your choices had helped that expectation become that reality; you’d met people not just anyone got to meet, and you’d definitely had a substantial amount of unique encounters.

Still, you were aware that the only reason you’d ever gotten the chance to taste a little bit of the high life was because you had Yeonjun on your side. Choi Yeonjun — the rising star of the idol world, with a better career trajectory than the guy who owned Apple, it seemed. His job was the access pass to everything you enjoyed. Unfortunately, your ticket to all the good things was also the key to your prolonged misery.

As his manager, you have a ton of roles to play — logistics coordinator, scheduler, alarm clock, wardrobe checker, and, on one unfortunate incident, last-minute make-up artist when the original girl had been a no-show. You were supposed to be busy at every turn, but Yeonjun on the job was something of a well-oiled machine, learning how to feed himself while you were on the phone and follow the line-up to the letter as long as he was awake enough to do it. It’s possible you could blame him for all the downtime you got that had led to the bulk of the problem.

Actually, you aren’t sure when it started or even how. Maybe it had happened somewhere in the middle of all his showcases and shows, sandwiched between the constant fever of communication and movement. Maybe it had come up in those hectic car rides where you’d spent a ton of time reminding him of what to do and what to expect. Or maybe it had grown with every time you had to wake him up in one of many lonely hotel rooms, with his head half-buried in the pillow to muffle the sleepy groans he’d use to respond to your soft voice.

Whenever it was, all you could be sure of was that you liked him. A lot. Maybe even with the time you’d come to know him, after all these years, a part of you was ready to say you loved him.

But that was the biggest barrier in the job, wasn’t it? Managers are supposed to stop their idols from dating, not want to do it with them. For the most part, you’ve been successful in holding yourself back from doing something stupid, which is technically the bare minimum for you. These days, though, you aren’t sure what it is; maybe you’re just on edge from all the work in this year’s promotional stint, and that kind of contributes to a weakened mentality, or some kind of wack explanation like that, but you find yourself more often losing your train of thought when you’re with him. Even without detailing the specifics to your friends and co-workers, they’ve noticed something was bothering you. They’d urged you to relieve yourself of your duties a little, maybe hire a co-manager to do all the menial stuff, but you know that’s not really the issue. Only one person — Sunyoung, Yeonjun’s wardrobe stylist — had managed to hit the nail on the head semi-accurately.  

“Look, I get it,” she’d said one evening, after she’d shooed Yeonjun out of the dressing room so he could strap on his in-ear piece and prepare for the stage. You were supposed to be running around like a headless chicken, making sure everything was in check, but you were just slumped on the couch in the dressing room playing some dumb shark game your nephew had downloaded onto your phone. “You’re tired. You’re lonely. You can’t even go out for a cup of coffee without worrying about Yeonjun. But he’s fine. You can relax a little.”

“I’m totally relaxed,” you’d mumbled, watching your shark devour a poor surfer on your screen. “I’m fine.”

“Then you should get out more. Leave all of this behind and meet new people. Go on a date. Listen,” she’d covered your phone with her palm, and you heard the telltale music of your game coming to a bitter end. “Do something fun. Go on a date, seriously. I can set you up. It doesn’t even have to be anything serious, ____________! Just do something not work-related for once next week, and get this toxicity or whatever out of your system.”

You didn’t have the heart to say no or the courage to admit that nothing really would happen if that date wasn’t with Yeonjun, considering how far gone you were, so you’d just agreed.

Sunyoung had set you up for a Valentine’s Day date. Ironically, while the point was supposedly to get your mind off of Yeonjun on that day, he had a scheduled fan sign in Sinchon that you couldn’t miss out on. You had to pack an extra set of nicer clothes and a make-up bag that Yeonjun had eyed questioningly but silently as you’d entered the van.

“So how long is this fan sign?” He’d asked instead, immediately turning his attention to his phone the moment the van had started moving.

“Until six.”

“Then I don’t have another schedule, right?”

“No.” You don’t really ask why he’s curious; Yeonjun enjoys his personal time, as any celebrity does. “You’re free after. The van can take you home, or wherever else you need to be.”

He’d hummed appreciatively, fixated on his phone, and the rest of the ride is consumed in silence until you’d arrive at the venue.  

Yeonjun is whisked immediately into hair and make-up, and Sunyoung emerges from his dressing tent a few moments after he disappears inside, portable clothes steamer in hand. “Hey; did you get my text?”

You shake your head; you’d spent the car ride irresponsibly ignoring your phone, opting to gnaw on one of your nails instead.  

“I sent you the details of a reservation slot in this nice Italian place near Dongdaemun. Just drop my name and they’ll lead you to the table.”

“Look, I don’t really know if I want to do this,” you mumble sheepishly. “Blind dating isn’t my speed.”  

“Just go. It’ll be fine. If you don’t like him, you don’t like him. Just give it a shot. If all else fails, just enjoy the pasta,” she’d said with finality, bopping the nozzle of the steamer on your shoulder as she walks away.  

Yeonjun is out of the dressing room in twenty minutes, and even then, you’re not sure why it takes that long. You’ve consistently held the belief that Yeonjun doesn’t need make-up to look good, and you can hardly tell when he has it on, anyway. Still, it’s nice to see his stylist pushing his hair up into a neat, tiny quiff, and he’s changed from his standard white tee and jeans to something that resembles a casual suit. You guessed they did it for Valentine’s Day — emulating the coveted boyfriend look, and all that.  

“How do I look?” He asks you, right before you lead him onstage. His eyes follow your hand as you fix the front of his jacket quickly.  

“Great,” you reply. “As usual.”

“So until six, right?” His mouth is lifting into a grin that you can’t really understand.  

“Until six,” you confirm, now a little curious. “You got somewhere to be?”  

“Not sure,” he looks down at you enigmatically. “It’s my off time, so we’ll see what happens.”  

“Don’t do anything stupid,” you warn him, even though there’s no heat in your words. You know he’s not dumb enough to gallivant around doing things that will get him on Dispatch’s radar.  

He just laughs, giving you a small wink before he hops onstage, taking two steps at a time. The voices around you are drowned out by the screams that ensue once his fans see him.  

From then on, it’s just the same pattern for the next two hours — you, standing on one corner of the stage beside a guy from security, watching hundreds of girls in a line titter and scream and fall to their knees in front of the table where Yeonjun is seated at. They’ve all got albums in their hands, offering them to him reverently for a signature, and he takes them all good-naturedly, scrawling his name and some short, practically unreadable message somewhere around it while chatting with them about food he likes and what movies he’s into these days.  

Since it’s Valentine’s Day, a ton of girls come with romantic gifts — flowers, chocolates, goodies baskets. One girl even brings a large teddy bear, plopping it down in front of him unceremoniously and scaring Yeonjun into accidentally miswriting his signature. You and the rest of his management team aren’t really strict about prohibiting gifts, but Yeonjun refuses all of them — nicely, of course, but to the disappointment of many fans. Every time he says no, he glances at you, like he’s worried you’re going to tell him off if he says yes. You’d wondered once before if he was just trying to pin the blame on you, but you know he’s not cruel like that. Today doesn’t make a difference; he rejects people with apologetic looks as he gives their albums back, and you can see their dejection as they trod off the stage. The teddy bear girl had left the toy by the stairs in her disappointment.  

Yeonjun starts his closing ment at a quarter to six, and you tap the security guy next to you to remind him to bring him straight backstage after he’s finished before dashing off and ducking into the dressing room to change. You hear deafening cheers coupled with Yeonjun’s cute little goodbye! that signal the end of the fan sign, and you’ve just finished combing your hair back when Yeonjun walks in, idly patting his hair to see if everything is still in place.

“You look nice,” he observes casually, shrugging off his jacket. You try to avoid looking at him, even if his shoulders are so impossibly broad that you can’t really ever keep them out of your peripheral vision. “Do you have plans?”  

“As a matter of fact, I do,” you admit, unsure as to why you feel so guilty for saying so. You’re not dating, you have to remind yourself. And you’re allowed to go out after work.

“Meeting someone special?”  

“I’m not sure. Could be. I don’t know who I’m meeting, if I’m being honest.”  

His expression is unreadable; his fingers are twirling his marker in quick, hypnotizing circles.  

“Well, have fun,” he finally says, moving to hang his jacket on the back of a chair. “You should take the subway or something. Rush hour, and all that.”  

“Thanks for the tip.” His words sound pretty dismissive, but you’re not sure why you don’t just leave right away. Maybe you’re expecting him to say something, although it’s really more about what you wish he would rather than what he reasonably would, and he just continues to stare quietly, still toying with the Sharpie. “If you… need anything, just call. You know?”  

“I know,” he replies simply. “But I won’t bother you on a date. That’s just plain rude.”

“I’ll still answer. You know you’re more important than a blind date.”  

“Am I?” He looks amused. “Sounds like you take this job too seriously. Don’t worry about me. I’ll probably just go home after all. There’s a wildlife documentary I’m dying to catch.”  

You’re pretty sure you hadn’t meant the job, but you don’t correct him considering how that would out you. “Okay. See you bright and early tomorrow. Remember you’ve got a radio interview at nine, so can you please not stop by Starbucks before you go home? Please?”  

“Sure, sure,” he waves you and your nagging off, and you bolt out of the door, feeling kind of stupid and a little flushed.  

You take Yeonjun’s advice and get on the subway, except the first two trains Dongdaemun-bound are full to the brim and you have to squeeze yourself into the car of the third train by elbowing a couple of annoying teenage boys. The other problem you run into is that the train station exits are a fair way away from your destination, and you aren’t used to running in heels. You clip-clop your way down the sidewalk and hit every red light for the pedestrian crossings, much to your ire. At one point, you stop in the middle of the crossing and consider just storming back to the opposite end of the road and going home, but the subway station is too far away for that choice to make sense at that point anyway.  

By the time you get to the restaurant, you’re about fifteen minutes late and have to sit on the chairs for walk-in customers to give your feet a break. The guy at the front of the house has the decency to wait for you to catch your breath and even quietly point out that a lock of hair is stuck to your lip gloss before he asks if you have a reservation.  

You nervously pick at your dress and comb the ends of your hair as you follow him. You notice someone is already seated at the table, back to you and looking over the menu. You think about all the things that you want to say — sorry for being late, have you been waiting long?, I totally understand if you want to just leave — but there’s a weird nagging in the back of your mind that grows as you approach the table.  

Maybe Sunyoung had known you had a type, so to speak —lean, sharp, nicely dressed. Technically, that wasn’t such a difficult set of characteristics to find, but the fact that they were all rolled up into one package seated at your table, so similar to the guy you’ve pinned as ideal, was just kind of spooky. Even the fact that your blind date was laughing to himself at God knows what, alongside the fact that the way his angular shoulders moved up and down comically the way his would, isjust weird.

That, or…  

All thoughts of apologizing fly out the window once you reach the table. All you can do is stare, your ears ringing and your fingers clutching your wallet tightly. Your mind has completely disconnected from reality, and the first thing that tumbles out of your mouth is loud and a little crude.  

“Literally, what the hell?”  

All the guy at your table can do is laugh harder, clearly because he’s Lee Freaking Yeonjun, and he’s finding this situation sidesplittingly hilarious.  

“Yeonjun,” you hiss, your hand flying up and curling into a fist in an attempt to restrain yourself from grabbing him by the collar. “What are you doing here?”  

It takes him another half-minute to sober down, and he’s still chuckling a little as he answers. “Waiting for my date, obviously.”  

“Explain,” you demand, pointedly ignoring the looks couples from another table are giving you.

“Okay, but you have to sit down first,” he motions to the seat across from him. You pull it back and plop down onto it, gaze unwavering. He pauses, kind of dramatically, before continuing. “So there’s a set course meal, but I know you don’t like shellfish, so I thought—”

“I don’t want an explanation of the menu!” You shut your eyes, trying to block out the scene for a second. This can’t be happening. It makes no sense. “I want to know — wait, is this a prank?” 

“What? No, of course not.”  

“How are you here?”  

“I took the van here,” he says, once again elusive. “I actually thought you’d get here before me, but then I realized you probably had to walk a long way. Sorry.” He has the decency to look sheepish at this point.

“Why are you here?”

“I’m on a date?” He shakes his head. “What’s not clicking, ____________?”

“Don’t sass me. Please. Do me that one courtesy, if nothing else.” He watches you down your water in one go, still looking politely amused. “Did Sunyoung put you up to this?”  

“Actually, I asked her to rope you in.”

“Because?”  

“Do I have to spell it out for you?” He looks incredulous. “Because I like you. I thought that was kind of obvious from the get-go.”

Nothing is making sense to you. Your head is starting to hurt a little, maybe from the situation, maybe from the cold water you’d drunk too fast. “How was it obvious?” You thought you had been kind of obvious, which was why you had attempted to stay distant and pretty aloof for the past few months.  

“I listen to everything you say.”

“You have to,” you point out wearily. “That’s literally supposed to be our professional relationship.”  

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t have done it so well and so frequently if it were anyone else who were my manager,” he tries to reason, then continues when you look unconvinced. “And the gifts. I don’t take them.”  

“So?”  

“So, I don’t have a reason to not take them, technically. I just don’t because I don’t want you to think I’m accepting other people’s affections.”  

“That makes no sense. They’re your fans, so that has nothing to do with personal affections. You’re terrible at this.”  

“Okay, fine — but so are you!” His voice transitions into something a little accusing. “It’s not like you’ve been good at showing me you like me either.”  

He pauses, and for the first time in your life, you see something cross his face — uncertainty, maybe, or anxiety.  

“You do like me, don’t you?”  

The fire of indignant anger fueled by your initial shock dies down, and you’re left feeling a little embarrassed now. The entire walk here, you’d been torturing yourself with the fantasy that you could be somewhere else with Yeonjun on a date, but now that he’s seated across you in the flesh, you have no clue what to do or how to react properly. You toy with your napkin, but you feel his eyes burning into you.  

“Fine. I do, but,” you raise your voice a little at the conjunction; he doesn’t even take you seriously, choosing to look relieved instead. “But I’m not supposed to, Yeonjun. This is bad.”  

“Why? We’re at an old people restaurant. No one’s going to recognize us.”  

“Because I’m not supposed to go on dates with the idol I’m managing.”

“Be honest,” his bottom lip juts out. “Is that all you think of me?”  

Your lips thin out into a tight line; it’s easy to say no if you’re cheeky like him, but you’re pretty sure it’s easier to fire a manager for dating off-bounds than it is to cut off an idol’s career for the same reason.  

“Can’t we be, you know,” he points between the two of you. “Just us? Not manager and idol. Just you and me. Just for tonight. And we can see how it goes.”  

You hate that you cave so easily. You hate that you know you do because you like him so much. Your hand comes up to your face, trying to rub the ache away from your temples. A small, triumphant grin is growing on Yeonjun, like he already knows what you’re going to say. It occurs to you that after all this time you’ve come to know him well, he may have reached the same level of familiarity with you as well.

“Fine,” you mumble, and he doesn’t even contain his joy, pumping his fist into the air embarrassingly. “Fine. Just for tonight.”  

“Just for tonight,” he agrees. “Then we can see how it goes.”  

When you finally decide to meet his eye, you can’t help but laugh softly. He’s looking a little smug, and you want to smack him, or maybe just kiss him a little, but you just nudge his foot under the table. It doesn’t do anything to faze that little shit-eating expression on his face.  

“Don’t think this gets you off of waking up early,” you warn, but you never do get to threaten him effectively with just how soft your words are. “I’m still hauling you out of bed at seven.”

“As long as it’s you,” he grins. “And no one else.”  

“Shut up,” you try to bite back your smile, ducking your head instead to look at the menu when you feel it growing anyway. “Order your food.”  

You know he’s not looking at the menu even as you pretend to peruse it. Still, he falls quiet, eerily so, and you think he’s just staring until you feel something soft land on top of your hand.

Your eyes lift again to his face, and he’s still smiling, albeit a little more serenely, without that joking expression he’s practically trademarked. His hand squeezes yours tightly, and even when he loosens his hold, his palm never leaves yours.  

“You really do look beautiful tonight,” he says softly. “Happy Valentine’s Day, _______________.”  

#yeonjun x reader #yeonjun x you #yeonjun imagines #yeonjun scenarios #yeonjun drabbles #yeonjun fanfic #yeonjun scenario #yeonjun drabble #yeonjun imagine #txt x reader #txt x you #txt scenarios #txt imagines #txt drabbles

[toyybox]

Spiderwebs #33: Cotton

Masterlist

content: discussion of murder

• —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Heather didn’t think the hotel was anything to froth at the mouth about. When asked for her opinion, all she would divulge was I’ve seen better. But Jackie thought he might faint when he saw the red carpets and the glass chandeliers. He had never been in a hotel before. Money had always been scarce. 

And there were so many people around. More people than he’d seen in months. It had always been him and Heather, Heather and him, and also Matthew that one time—but now there were all these strangers, new faces and unfamiliar voices. He didn’t even complain when she linked her arm around his. He thought the crowd could sweep him away with no problem at all.

Heather nudged him with an elbow and cleared her throat.

He winced. “What?”

“Try not to look so obvious,” she muttered. 

“Oh. Sorry.”

But how could he do anything but stare? So many new, shiny things. He tried to tear his gaze away, and ended up staring at the lounge aquarium instead. Several species of tiny tropical fish flitted about in the bubbling water, just brief flickers of color. There was even a sea urchin, black and spiky, more like a burr than a fish. 

Heather made a face at him, then gave up and walked forward to the desk. With their arms still intertwined, he had no choice but to follow her

“Hi.” Heather gave the receptionist her most convincing smile. “Could I book a room? Two beds?”

The receptionist shook their head. “I apologize. It’s better to call in advance.”

“I can sleep on the couch,” Jackie said, still distracted by the fish over his shoulder. 

“One bed, then,” Heather said. “Is it possible on short notice?”

They flicked through a few papers. “The view wouldn’t be—“

“We don’t care about the view. Can we get one today?”

This conversation went on for a while, until they booked the room. The hotel was named in French. Jackie informed Heather that La Façade did, indeed, mean The Facade. Four years of studying paid off, evidently. She had chosen this location with excessive care. It was not too expensive, as to look suspicious, but not too cheap, as to look suspicious. There were enough people around to blend in with. Not too many, not too few. Their Goldilocks option—just right. But she wasn’t planning to stay for long. It would be easier to shake the police off if they kept moving, she said. He wanted to remind her that they hadn’t seen any police at all, chasing them or otherwise, but he thought better of it.

Although nobody had come after her yet, Heather’s anxiety rose with each passing day, and by now it had risen to a crescendo. Even Jackie, an expert on ignoring everything bad ever, noticed it. She was tense all the time. For instance, in the elevator.

“Are there really that many floors in—“

“Shut up,” she hissed. “I’m not in the mood.”

She was tense in the hallway.

“How many rooms are—“

“I’m still not in the mood, Jackie.”

And she was tense in the hotel room.

“Is that a minifridge? Can I—“

“Jackie!”

He wilted. “Sorry.”

Heather dropped her bag, then reached into the front pocket. He tensed, but the knife she pulled out was not for him. She stabbed the wall instead. It sank in between rows of white-and-pink floral wallpaper, going as deep as the hilt.

“I hate this.” She tore it out, then stabbed the wall again. “I want to go home.”

“Hey, I’m enjoying myself.” He opened the minifridge door. Rows of tiny, brightly-lit shelves stared out at him. “They have peanuts!”

“Of course you’re enjoying yourself. Don’t eat any of that,” she snapped, as he inspected a packet of chips. “That costs money, and I've wasted enough of it on you.”

He put the chips back and quickly closed the fridge door. “Okay, okay, wow. I’m sorry, I won’t eat anything."

"Don't talk back to me."

Jackie had lived with difficult people before, and he knew how quickly some days could sour. He could feel it in the air. The question was not if she would lash out, but when, and whether or not he’d be standing in the way. 

“Maybe we should… go to sleep?” he suggested. 

She slid the knife out from the wall. Bits of dust went flying in the sunlight, which poured out of the window in wide rays. “It’s two in the afternoon.”

“It’s ten in the night somewhere. And we don’t have any plans, far as I know.”

"Oh, fine. I'm exhausted anyway. Don't try anything while I’m asleep. Or else.” 

Although that was meant to be a threat, it came out as more of a weary afterthought. She collapsed into a plush chair near the tall window. She gave him one last slit-eyed glare…

Then, within minutes, she was out, like a batter with terrible luck. Her head was nestled beside her arm, and her arm leaned against the chair. Her legs curled inwards, slightly. The curve of her shoulders eased, and so did the corners of her mouth.

Jackie gave her a disbelieving glance. “We have a bed, you know…”

She really was exhausted, to pass out like that. So exhausted that she hadn’t even stopped to consider the bed, or the two-seater sofa. Or, Jackie realized, the knife still in her hand. Or the hotel phone he could use, or the door that Jackie could easily slip out of. Or the minifridge. The peanuts were salted and everything.

It was a comfortably large hotel room, but not as airy and empty as the basement was. The tall window was at the back, facing the door. Long blinds were folded up at its sides. On the left, there was a closet. On the right, there was a bathroom door. He opened it; there were pearly white surfaces and spotless towels, even cleaner and prettier than Heather’s bathroom. He adored how clean everything was. It was a bit intimidating, actually—he didn’t want to ruin anything, or mess anything up.  The soap was scented with lavender, not the orange-blossom he was used to. The bed was nothing special. It didn’t look very comfortable. The carpeted floors were thin and dark brown. There was no television, but there was a digital alarm clock and a telephone on the nightstand.

That was the end of his little scavenger hunt. He sat on the edge of the bed and took in the perfectly unfamiliar hotel-room scent. The view was lovely. Evergreen forests and rocky mountains, patches of pearly white snow, and blue sky pasted above it all. The sun cast a sharp relief on the side of Heather’s face. The light caught frayed strands of her hair, casting them in gold. The freckles on her face were especially visible. A small constellation under her eyes. Ursa major, ursa minor, big dipper, little dipper. He could find those stars on her skin, if he stared for long enough.

It occurred to Jackie that, for the first time, Heather had fallen asleep in front of him. Was that trust, or was she simply too tired to care? Probably the latter. You got your rest when and where you needed it, and paranoia could crawl into a hole and die. He wanted to do the same thing, but he was too wound up with anticipation. 

He had been left unattended. The knife would be easy to slip out from her weak grasp. The kitchen knife, the same one she had slid between his ribs. It did not glitter in the light. The shadows cast it into a dull gray, as if the metal was nothing more than a piece of painted cardboard.

He sat up. He treaded careful and slow, grateful for the carpet muffling his steps. He grazed a hand against the handle—

Heather stirred, just the faintest bit, shifting her weight on the chair. 

He flinched away. It was like a spell had been broken. A knife? He wasn’t going to use it, was he? No. Of course not. That was a horrible thing to think. 

In his dreams it was always so easy. He’d put his hands around her throat and she’d crumble like paper and sawdust. Real people, though, were muscle and blood and bone. Life did not cave in so easily, not without kicking and screaming and fighting all the way. How Heather did it, he didn’t know. She was not so sentimental. Where he saw pictures and metaphors and the culmination of all his dreams, she saw a body. 

She was a killer, unlike Jackie, and a cold-blooded one to boot. In the light, though, Heather seemed oddly peaceful. Her stillness was intimate, not so perfectly detached into parties du corps. A tightness swelled in his throat. He didn’t want to hurt anyone, least of all his only friend. 

Friend? Ha, you’re delusional. Probably. But she was the closest thing he had to a friend, in any case. Without her, there was nobody to care for him, nobody to talk to, nobody to ask if he was hungry or tired. The world around him was spiteful, chock-full of teeth and claws, and here was a shoulder to lean on. He would have been alone, if it were not for Heather. She was his only constant companion. 

She was like Arsène to him, someone he would defend for always. He knew that he was easy to please. He had a heart of cotton. It lulled him into a daze, all this mundane and precious routine. It was all he had and all he knew. Heather and her money and the orange-blossom soap at home, the white pillows on the sofa and the weight of her blankets—so many cruel, cruel comforts.

His face was starting to get hot, and the corners of his eyes pricked with tears, so he stood up and drew the blinds. The lights were already off. The hotel room fell into a gentle darkness. 

Heather rolled over a little, but did not wake. So he stood there, not moving or speaking, unsure of what to occupy himself with.

The door creaked open.

Like a startled deer, his stare was immediately on the stranger. He forgot to school his expression for a second—he swallowed his uneasy feelings and tried to smile, or at least look neutral. He had no idea if it was working.

It was only a cleaning lady. She was holding a mop, and he could see the edge of a gray bucket. “Excuse me. Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Shit, what was my name supposed to be? Elliot? Elias? Ah, she’s gonna kill me. Again. Wait, was I supposed to talk to anyone? Should I wake her up? How do you act natural? That’s such a vague statement!

But the stranger didn’t seem confused or concerned at all. “Enjoy the rest of your stay.” 

Like that, she was gone. Before he could say anything, the door closed. Jackie noticed, a second too late, that the knife was still in Heather’s hand. If the stranger had glanced even an inch to the left—but she hadn’t, and Heather had escaped the wrathful eye of the public this time.

Jackie found the do-not-disturb sign, which was long and made of cardstock, hooked it around the outer doorknob, and curled up on the bed. Without fanfare, he fell asleep.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Taglist:

@theelvishcowgirl @lthrboy @whumpy-wyrms

@yassifiedinformation @creppersfunpalooza

@vidawhump

#whump #whump writing #my writing #Spiderwebs toyybox #they finally reached a hotel :)

[rk8connorzz]

𝔣𝔢𝔢𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 // 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔫𝔬𝔯 𝔵 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯

𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: Connors is feeling depressed. After the revolution, Connor seems to be struggling with his deviance. Luckily, a good friend of his is willing to help the android.

𝔞𝔲𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔯𝔰 𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢: This is written from Connor’s POV

Everything after the android revolution seemed perfect. Everyone at the DPD resumed work as usual. But something inside of me changed. Just a sheer coldness in my stomach that didn't sit well.

I hated this feeling. I hated feeling incomplete and lost.

Hank seemed to care for me. Like I was his son. I live with him now, but it still feels dark and empty. Whenever I look inside the mirror, I see a stranger staring back. I know that since I am an android, no one will take this agonizing pain seriously. I mean, how could they? Though I have a working thirium pump, and my heartbeat is regulated, I still feel like my heart stops every time I look at myself.

I wish I could tell someone how I feel. Journaling my feelings are getting harder and harder. Going back and looking at the words presented in front of me that I wrote brings tears to my eyes.

I shouldn't feel like this. I need to hide these overwhelming feelings. These thoughts. I can't listen to them.

I sit comfortably at my desk at the office. My desk was situated right in front of my father, Hank. Lately, he's been arriving later and later. I can't help but worry about him. Almost every single night, he takes his car and drives to Jimmy's Bar to get drunk and forget the events of the day. It's been a habit I've been trying to help him break for a while now. Though my best attempts never work. I'm starting to lose hope.

A close friend of mine, (Name), always arrived at the same time. Around 9:30. They walked over to my desk to greet me, ask me how I'm doing, and then they retreated to their office to continue their duties. By the deepening eye bags and dark circles continuing to engulf their eyelids, and the amount of caffeine they have been intaking, they’re losing more sleep. Aren’t they?

They walked slowly into the break room to make themselves a coffee. I tend to watch what others are doing while having nothing to do. Though I could go on standby until Hank arrives, this is more entertaining. I took the advantage of them approaching my desk to analyze them. Her eyes were red and puffy, and they kept quieter today. Usually, they greet people when they walked in. Today was different.

"Hey, Con." They almost whispered. I shot them a soft smile shortly after their sentence. My hands were comfortably situated and intertwined with each other in my lap. "Good morning, Detective (Last Name). How was your night last night? Hank told me you were at the bar last night." An audible sigh escaped their mouth. They looked down and shook their head from side to side, giving off the vibe that something bad went down last night. They have been more alert and skittish. There were more bruises along their skin than normal. "It wasn't anything. Just needed to get my mind off of something." Their response was understandable, and I was a little worried. I felt like if I don't help them with how they felt, I would be an awful person. I already feel like that enough, I can't handle it getting worse.

"Would you like to talk about it?" I muster up the courage to ask. They sat on my desk, facing toward me. "Nah, It's fine." I analyzed them once again, getting a better view of them due to her being closer up to me now. Their skin was more bruised. They showed obvious signs of a fight. Maybe that's the reason they went to Jimmys Bar. I didn't want to pry an answer out of them. But I was worried.

"How about you, Connor? You've been acting differently. More distant. I'm worried." I wanted to tell. I felt like I should. But I don't want to burden them with my problems. It isn't right. Especially not with all of the shit they’re going through. They don't need that.

"I assure you, Det-" "Connor. Don't play dumb with me. Please. I want to help you. I know you're going through a lot of shit right now. I care about you deeply, and I want to help." They looked into my eyes, but I looked away. Looking at anything other than them.

Anything.

"I know it's hard Connor. You've been through so much and you haven't been activated for long. I know that things are hard, but people do care. I assure you. I'm so sorry about all of the shitty things that have happened to you. You deserve better."

I felt tears wind up in the corners of my eyes. I tried my best to prevent them from falling, but I shortly gave up. They stood up from their spot and knelled down to eye level. Their left hand cupped the side of my wet face gently. Their thumb wiped itself across my cheek, clearing the salty tears off of my cheek. I leaned just slightly into their hand. "I want the best for you, Con. I don't know how to help you since my problems are a bit different from yours, but I'll be here for you no matter what. Through the thick and thin."

"Connor! (Name)! Stop making out over there! Get a room!" We both turned our heads to face a familiar old man who just arrived at the office. He walked firstly into the break room, then he walked over to me and (Name). They let out a short and airy laugh, then looked back at me. The tears stopped falling down my face, and their hand was still cupping my cheek. As they realized they were still holding me, they let go. Hank sat down loudly and placed his hand over his forehead. (Name) stood up and started walking to their office to continue their work. I waved them goodbye as did they.

"So? Why the hell were you having a mental breakdown in front of (Name)? What the hell happened, Connor?" Hank asked, audibly concerned. "Nothing. It's getting better, just some mental issues I need to fix." Hank eyed me down. I took a short deep breath and smiled. "Anyways, I'm going to start working now, Dad." "Yeah, burying yourself in work is just a coping mechanism for you now isn't it?" I knew it was a rhetorical question, but I answered anyways. "I guess so."

#connor x reader #connor #detroit become human #dbh #dbh fanfic #connor dbh #angst #dbh angst

[madseance]

My Broadchurch posts have been getting more notes lately, which is a great excuse for me to point people to some of my favorite Hardy/Miller fics:

Loneliness (in F Flat Minor) by TreacleA — T, 50k

“I think I was a bit jealous of your date last night.” Hardy’s leant back in his seat, his hands resting on the wheel and he turns his head slightly to look at her. If he’s surprised he doesn’t show it, his dark brown eyes reflect the dash lights as they rest calmly on her face. “Well,” he pauses minutely, allowing space for the nuance in what she’s said, “You’d no need to be.”

Jump in the River by bitboozy — M, 8k [part 1 of Domesticated — M, 700k]

All the while he was gone, she tried not to think of him. She tried not to wonder what he was doing, where he had gone, why he had left. She tried not to make it about her. Logically she knew it couldn’t be. But perhaps that was problem. In her alone-est moments, she wonders why she wasn’t enough to keep him here. He thinks of her unabashedly. Like a dream he replays in his mind, a memory that is just the slightest bit different each time it passes through. He misses many things about her but chief among them is the freedom of arguing with her. He can yell at many, he can chastise anyone. But only she fights back. He has always liked the fight of life. The challenge of breathing, the unmistakable strain of human interaction. It reminds him he’s moving forward. With her, the fight is a game he can’t win but loves playing anyway. Maybe because he can’t win, and neither can she. It is infinite. As time passes she wonders if he ever happened to her at all. If she had just altered her own memories to make those days seem bearable. To remember something from those years besides her own personal tragedy. When he shows back up in Broadchurch she could kill him.

Empty Spaces by ShirleyAnn66 — T, 70k

Ellie recognizes his voice with the first word and spins around, mouth gaping, eyes wide. A part of her knows she must look ridiculous and only more so when she gets her first look at him. Gone is the scruffy unkempt man she remembers so well. The man standing before her is clean shaven, his shirt crisply pressed and buttoned to his throat, his tie perfectly knotted and straight. His hair is shorter than it was in Broadchurch, and smoothly combed. She barely recognizes him, his face all unfamiliar angles and sharp edges that could slice paper, but the overall impression is one of almost-vulnerable boyishness. Then she meets his eyes, and they’re as wide as hers, watching her with a mixture of uncertainty, nervousness, happiness and some indefinable something that gives her a burst of fear mixed with excitement mixed with the sense of finding something that had been lost. “Miller,” he says with an obvious effort, “finally got that promotion, then, aye?”

Tea & Happiness by MrsNoggin — E, 16k

Daisy wanders off and returns a few seconds later with the throw that usually lives on the back of the sofa, for exactly times like this. Instead of covering her father, for some reason she hands the blanket to Ellie, and for some reason Ellie takes it, shakes it out and lays it over him before even thinking to question why it’s her job.  The stairs creak in an obnoxious way, as those in new build houses that have been rather half-heartedly constructed tend to do - Daisy disappearing upstairs. The noise disturbs Hardy, and he turns over slightly, giving a graceless, twitching kick and a snort, before blinking his eyes open sleepily. "Hey love, you have a good time?” Love. She’s not sure who his sleep-addled brain has decided she is, so she strokes his hair back from his forehead. Watches it flop disobediently straight back down again. “Go back to sleep.” “Aye. Night Ellie, get home safe.”  Oh.

Ricochet by paintedvanilla — T, 8k

She looks more unsure now than she has all evening. “I’ve just— been thinking is all.” “… Thinkin’.” “Yes,” Miller says, giving him a look. “And our job, it’s quite stressful.” Hardy stares at her. “Sure.” “Sure. You say that like it didn’t almost kill you,” Miller says immediately. “But that’s— nevermind, I just thought— I mean I had this… look, just tell me if you think it’s a stupid idea, and I’ll never bring it up again.” “Love to, if you’d bring it up in the first place,” Hardy says before he can stop himself.

The Same Stuff by Lemur710 — M, 11k

“He was on a plane to America with his daughter Easter weekend, Ellie. And he still called you when he landed, didn’t he?” “He had to check in. We work together.” “Don’t always talk about work, though, do you?” “So what? We’re partners. Mates.” Lucy nodded. “Yeah. Mates who talk every day, who work long nights and sleep at each other’s houses, mates who make each other dinner and help each other’s kids with their homework. I barely see you without him anymore.” “So, he’s my best ma—oh, god.” She frowned in disgust, a chip half-way to her mouth. It was true, but that didn’t mean she had to like it.

like night needs morning by svpportive — T, 2k

She rewinds the tape, rubbing at her eye. When nothing of import shows up, as suspected, she sighs and closes out of her computer and starts packing her things. Hardy still hasn’t moved. Definitely asleep then. She huffs and pulls the bag around her shoulders. “Goodnight, sir.” She says, loud in the empty quiet of the dark office. When he doesn’t stir she chuckles, and kisses the top of his head before making her way out. It’s only until she’s in the car that she realizes what she’s done, meaning she completely missed how Hardy had startled awake then stilled in shock.

#broadchurch #former detectives club #broadchurch fic #I have fixed the formatting on this so many times... h8 the new post editor :))) #paragraphs just appearing and disappearing as they please

[mistmarauder]

Not the same anon as before, but it's been very disturbing to see a group of white people in fandom dogpile on an artist of Korean descent who lives in Korea, especially when that artist does not speak English and is obviously struggling with expressing their views in a way that might make sense to *us*. The style the artist used, even if they didn't explain it, is a very obvious East Asian style which is very popular in Koren and Japanese cultures. I looked at the artist's blog, and even if they didn't explain it in the DMs—for whatever reason—they *have*, in a subsequent post yesterday, explained their perspective as a Korean person while making this art, and I think it's extremely unfair to exclude that part of the context while talking about this. Like...idk it just feels like you guys didn't like the answer they gave or the way they answered (again! they're not a native speaker and you need to give them more grace!) so everyone has just come to this conclusion that they're a terrible person automatically. And while you personally might not have done this, I have seen other blogs—all white people—act like a bunch of bullies about it and it's super frustrating.

This fandom does have a problem with whitewashing—gifmakers do it all the time while coloring their sets! Or they make the characters of color look super unnatural because they refuse to adjust their PSDs for their skin tones! And yet I have never seen anyone call out any of the gifmakers who've done this in the past, let alone dogpile on them to such an extreme—like y'all are doing on this Korean artist. Idk. I'm Asian too, and it's super disturbing to watch.

Hey, anon. I saw this ask last night in the jungle that is my inbox, but I wanted to wait until I was awake and aware enough to answer it (and didn’t really need to go back to sleep because of work).

The only thing I would push back on here is that it’s just a group of white people dogpiling. It was not all white people speaking. They’re just the voices that ended up on that artist’s blog and got the most attention – that includes my own. Because of that, I can see why it might be perceived that way though. And I pushed people not to interact with them or the art, because that’s how you make a difference. You don’t give something attention. The lack of engagement is a stance in and of itself. The goal was certainly never for this person to be attacked, so if that’s what you’re implying has happened, that’s a problem. And that’s on me for not being more careful.

I’ve had people who appreciated the fact that I spoke up, but there have been others, like yourself, who don’t like what’s happening, and an even wider group who thought that while there was something to be said, they’re not sure I should have said it. The response has been very multi-sided. And I do believe that you and everyone else who thinks I veered too far out of my own lane are very valid in thinking that way. I spent all of yesterday debating about whether or not I made the right decision, and I had friends both white and non-white who weren’t sure either.

It also seems there have been some gross communication failures. I’ll start off by saying that I did not see the culture post. I’m blocked by the artist (fairly), so I had a friend send me screenshots this morning. I wasn’t purposely disregarding that, and you’re right that it’s important to take into consideration.

I do think there’s never going to be agreement with this person regarding Jee’s skin tone. They have the perceptions that they have because of their experience as Korean artist living in Korea, and they see Jee as being lighter than even JLH visually and because of their cultural experiences. I do not believe that's likely to change.

I’m not saying Asian people can’t be light-skinned, but this artist is drawing a character played by two very real little girls, who are not universally perceived as light-skinned, and from our general understanding, are not Korean. Their mother is Chinese, and their father has a traditional Chinese surname which leads us to believe that he is likely Chinese as well. If this is incorrect, please correct me. And when you’re making art of real people, you can’t just use your previous perceptions of a fictional character’s identity to justify coloring them differently. And they’re using gifs to defend those perceptions. Gifs are something that you and I both know aren’t trusted references. They’re colored and altered in a variety of ways.

You’re right that gifmakers whitewash regularly. I will say that people have tried to call this out in the past, but they’ve been general posts from what I remember. Nothing about individual gifmakers. It’s been a huge problem with Eddie and with turning Athena and Karen orange. However, these general callouts don’t really get a lot of traction. And that’s extremely unfair.

I’ll be blunt and say that part of that is the fact that people tend to turn a blind eye to keep the peace, and the people in this fandom who noticed this artist’s work are the ones least likely to do so.

Another issue were the DMs, and it’s been brought to my attention by @karenandhenwillson (who I will respond to after this) and in a post by the artist, that I may have misinterpreted those completely, which is unfair of me (and anyone else who has seen the messages and come to the same conclusion). There wasn’t enough patience with someone who was a non-native English speaker, and that led to some confusion that I’m going to address when I respond to the blog I just mentioned.

The fact of the matter though is that I'm white, and I'm wading into murky waters by continuing to engage on this subject. I've turned off reblogs on my original post, and after my next response about the communication meltdown, I'm going to edit it and make another clarifying that people should read the artist's posts and my previous posts to understand their position and everything that's happened.

I don't think it's fair for me to continue to place myself in a discussion I might not have had the right to be in at all, but I'm not going to leave without publicly acknowledging the communication issue because it matters and telling people not to attack this artist. That's cowardly and not really my style.

Thank you again for this message. I really do welcome people coming to talk to me.

#911 discourse #for the filters #anonymous #mist answers

[doctorshadow8]

The Eiffel Tower

Yeah this is from my TF2 au Trials, Tribulations, and Teufort, Enjoy!

Scout had been feeling better since his last mishap with the sizeshifting, but he still felt uneasy about it. The memory kept replaying over and over again, growing huge then being so miniscule the slightest movement would send him flying. He’d seen films about The Incredible Shrinking Man, not once did he think he’d be in the position to understand it.Billy winced, it was- embarrassing, shameful even. Even the thought of being in someone's single hand, let alone that prick frenchman, was enough to make him green with anxiety. He went to bed early that night, hoping to get a good night's rest. However, in the middle of the night, Billy woke up feeling strange.

He looked down at his body and gasped. He was shrinking again, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. No matter how much Billy wanted to just stop, for everything to just stop, the sizeshifter part refused so much so it was painful to argue with it. “H- HEY! Is- Is anyone there! PLEASE SOMEONE I- I..” suddenly the shouting turned into sobbing as Billy collapsed into his body, hugging his legs into a compact fetal position. The worst part about shrinking: You are rendered utterly useless and vulnerable. It was almost, depressingly obvious not even a raccoon would've been awake in the base. That was until he heard a voice beside him.

"Are you alright, Scout?"

He looked up and saw Spy standing over him like the mother fucking eiffel tower, a very concerned tower. Billy rubbed the tears away, his face red with embarrassment that someone had actually caught him in this state. This would’ve been fine if he’d be 30 feet towering over teufort, but 3 inches isn’t exactly towering material. 

"I'm fine, just a little...uh...problem," Scout muttered, shrugging the ordeal off like it was ‘no big deal’.

Spy raised an eyebrow. "It doesn't seem like 'just a little problem', Scout. Are you sure you're okay?"

Scout sighed, realizing that he couldn't keep his secret from Spy forever. "Okay, fine. We’ve talked about this, I can't control it and it's really fucking embarrassing. I can’t even sleep normally when my pillow is the size of a damn football field!"

Spy raised a brow "That sounds more preferable than a mattress filled with microfiber.”  

“That- that’s not the point, It makes me feel like a freak I-"

Spy nodded his head. "You are a freakish boy."

Billy looked up at him like he’d just been punched in the gut. "Thanks, Spy. That means a lot coming from you. Ya know if you came here to insult me to my face, you coulda said somethin first. Jeez, you’re a real prick ya know that? " 

Spy smiled. "Of course, mon ami. Now you may be a freak, You may be the most unpredictable illiterate boy i’ve known-" “Hey watch it buddy-” “But you are no less than the freak obsessed with unicorns and hellfire. Sure, You downsize- or upsize- it’s hard to keep track anymore, but you are no less annoying than the same scout i’ve had the godawful pleasure of working with before.” And just like that, spy took a single index finger and patted Billy on the back. 

They sat in silence for a while, it was deafening, it made Scout think. It wasn’t that he couldn’t think before, but now he had to reflect on everything spewed at him. It was different being patted on the back by a regular sized hand, it was painfully obvious something was off when a whole finger covered his left shoulder. Despite it, Billy leaned into it. On a regular day the speech would have made him brush it off and go back to reading comics, yet now it was just as big of a reality check as spy. A fucking eiffel tower. Scout started growing back to his normal size, muscles contracting and bones expanding. The sickening series of crunching made the frenchman hold his mouth in effort to not gag. Billy took a deep inhale then stretched his limbs "Thank you, Spy."

Spy patted him on the back, a normal sized pat “Goodnight Billy”.

#g/t #giant/tiny #sizeshifter #team fortress 2 #teamfortress 2 oc #ss!scout #angst and comfort #shrinking #trials tribulations and teufort au #first fic #purebrainrothonestly #also not a ship #they are literally father and son #meow #thats all waaa #also this is pretty much uneditted so please have mercy

[yukidragon]

Sunny Day Jack - Sunshine in Hell Chapter 6

Sunshine in Hell has now officially had its rating bumped up to Explicit with the release of its sixth chapter, which means it’s for Adults Only. I know Something’s Wrong with Sunny Day Jack is meant for only those over the age of 18, but it bears repeating that this fanfic is not for minors. This chapter’s teaser is SFW, but any future NSFW ones will go under cuts. I hope you enjoy reading this psychological horror/erotic romance story.

Obligatory @channydraws tag. I hope you enjoy the clown smut. :3

...

Alice didn’t regret moving away from her old apartment. She couldn’t stay in a place haunted by the ghost of once beautiful memories that had been twisted into something rotten and festering. Every time she remembered him, she felt that ghastly revenant dig its putrid claws into her chest as it wailed, condemning her for all of her mistakes and flaws.

The ghost still haunted her, lurking even in places where he never set foot in. It followed her here to this new, far cheaper apartment that she could actually afford without splitting the rent with a roommate, but it was quieter now. Its words were just poisonous whispers that flowed into her ears only when in her weaker moments when she let down her guard, or when something happened to force her to remember him.

Alice did her best never to think about him. It was hard; there had been so much of her life entwined with his that tearing away the rotten roots was the hardest thing she ever had to do in her life. There were few things she brought with her that he even touched, and those she couldn’t afford to leave behind were still buried in boxes. There, they would rest in peace until she was ready to unearth the cursed objects and exorcise those tainted memories.

Moving to this apartment was a necessary thing, but it created a new challenge - finding a place for guests to sleep. Her current home had only one bedroom, and she certainly had no intention of sharing her bed with anyone anytime soon.

Maybe not ever again.

Alice forced herself back into the present, away from the dark, sharp edges of his memory, and focused instead on the task at hand. She gave the living room a cursory glance as she considered how best to take care of her new supernatural or imagined house guest. The couch was the obvious first choice; it was comfortable enough to sleep on, as she learned firsthand from all the times she nodded off while watching television. Unfortunately, all it took was one look at Jack to tell her that wasn’t going to be an option. What was comfortable for a short person like her was going to be a pain in the back for a giant like him.

Jack offered Alice a gentle smile when she looked his way. He only caught pieces of her train of thought - something about a person she refused to even name and some bad memories. He wanted so badly to learn more about what was troubling his sunshine and eliminate whatever problems plagued her life, but he could tell that asking her about it directly would only hurt her more.

Jack refused to do anything that might hurt Alice.

Reluctantly, Jack allowed the subject to rest, for now, though he tucked it into the back of his mind for later. “It’s okay, sunshine,” he said instead as his smile turned lopsided. “You don’t have to go out of your way for me. I’ll be fine out here tonight.”

Alice put her hands on her hips before shaking her head, brushing aside his overly polite dismissal of his own comfort. “It’s fine. This is what I’ve got an air mattress for. Just push the couch closer to the TV while I find it, would you?”

Jack did as requested while Alice disappeared into another room. Minutes later she came back with an unwieldy bundle of bedding precariously balanced on top of a large bag, struggling to see around the pile without bumping into anything. He immediately rushed over to relieve her of the burden. Together, the two of them made short work of the process and soon the air mattress was set up and dominating the majority of the living room’s space.

“Well…,” Alice said, feeling a bit awkward now that there was nothing to distract her from the reality of her new situation. “I’ll see you in the morning. You know where the bathroom is, right? You can use it after I take a shower, just don’t run the water long, okay?”

“Right…,” Jack said, his voice somewhat distant. He didn’t want to be separated from his sunshine. Even staying in a different room from her just for the night felt like far too long. Unfortunately, he knew that he had no choice but to accept it. Alice made her boundaries clear; he had to be careful not to cross them, or he would risk the fragile bond between them. He needed to be patient. Eventually they would get closer, he knew they would, but, for now, he had to give her the space she needed so that she wouldn’t be afraid of him.

...

Read the rest of the chapter here, and please let me know what you think. Reviews fuel my writing inspiration, and I read and enjoy them all! ❤️💛💙

#Sunny Day Jack #Something's Wrong With Sunny Day Jack #sdj #swwsdj #My Writing #NSFT

[torque-witch]

While I’m grateful that I’m much better than I was last year, I’m back to having nightmares every 2-3 hours and it’s exhausting. Like yeah I would get them every once in a while before all of this went down, but it feels like my nervous system is fucked now permanently. Did SNRIs help with my abdominal pain? Yes. Does it really feel like my gastro was negligent about the possible brain chemistry side affects? Yes. This is actually hell and the only reason I’ve improved over the last year from literally being unable to eat or stand up without tachycardia is therapy. None of those doctors helped me at all, except for maybe the cardiologist who admitted my meds were first gen and more dangerous than everything that’s out now and they were causing my side affects.

“Being on low dose SNRIs for three years can’t affect your brain chemistry. Withdrawal doesn’t exist, especially not when you combine two of the same kind.”

WHAT. It’s been a YEAR. And I’m still not fully well. Why was I fine for 27 years until we introduced this med. At the very least I could have a different condition exacerbating these results. My cortisol levels were through the roof last year. That shits going to wreak havoc on the rest of my body and the endocrinologist was just like “well you take hormonal birth control so I don’t really care about your cortisol.”

Sir??? I’ve been on it for 8 years without panic attacks or a sleep disorder. It’s not the problem. We introduced something else. Norepinephrine. Adrenaline neurotransmitters?????

I know you’ve all heard it enough over the last year but honestly I am still traumatized. Therapy does really help. But doctors should also be finding the cause, not just slapping meds on everything without understanding the patient’s body first.

It’s like the whole prednisone thing. I was on it for too long and now my body won’t go back to the way it was before. I started developing fatty liver disease markers. I developed tremors during the last months. My specialist wasn’t concerned with keeping me on a regimen or checking in with my process and just let me keep taking it. When I got transferred to UPMC because she didn’t know how to taper me or deal with my withdrawal side affects. I HAD to ripped off of it within a week because my markers were too high. THATS WHY I was put on SNRIs in the first place. To counteract the pain that withdrawing from prednisone was causing me. My new doc said it resulted in severe IBS.

Prednisone is essentially synthetic cortisol. So it makes sense to put me on an SNRI to combat that loss. But that means that for about 4 years my body didn’t produce it naturally. So why anyone is surprised that I started developing hospital level tachy and panic attacks before even getting off of it, why would withdrawal rebound have been such an outlandish idea? My body was flashing all of the warning lights for a reason.

Medicine is great. But long term modulation of our natural processes means that without it, it has to relearn. Seems pretty obvious.

#torquetalks #long post #medical #chronic illness

[i-did-not-mean-to]

‘twas a lark (or a nightingale?) - Chapter 11

Chapter 10

As promised to @mismaeve (and then forgotten, sorry), here's another chapter where sweet Lindir gets a bit of comfort...also hair...lots of hair and a bit of booze lol

@eunoiaastralwings,@self-conscious-author, @heilith

Words: 1.6 k

Warnings: Cursing, slight nudity, alcohol consumption, fluff and sadness

Lindir stared at the three figures standing on his porch as if they were apparitions – summoned by his miserable mind and broken heart – before he scrambled for the woven plaid lying within reach to cover himself up.

“Good evening,” Legolas then smiled suavely, strolling in past the other man – still frozen in shock – and waved the women in behind him, “how good of you to open the door tonight.”

“I…” Lindir stuttered, “what are you doing here? How did you find me?”

“I followed you yesterday,” Legolas shrugged and offered up that sweet, innocent half-grin that had gotten him out of a lot of trouble when he had been younger.

“Your address is in your file, you moron,” Ann’ rolled her eyes, “and I’ve been here before, remember? How many places are there where we’d find you?”

“Not many,” Lindir admitted dejectedly; there were very few places he’d be welcome in.

The more pressing question bubbling up in his mind now though was why anyone – let alone those three – would want to find him?

It was late and the women at least should be in bed in their little cottage to catch some sleep before the next shift; with him gone, he knew that they would have to shoulder most of the weight of his job.

“Thanks for the moron,” he muttered, “could I offer you a glass of…tap water while I get dressed again?”

“Awwww, you won’t let us see the wares?” Legolas pouted and was promptly elbowed hard enough in the ribs by his sister to make him stumble back a few steps.

“I was looking out for you, sis,” he grumbled under his breath and went out again to retrieve a sixpack of slightly lukewarm beers and a bottle of wine that he had stolen from his father’s establishment while Lindir scrambled back into his crinkled-up clothes.

“So,” he said decisively upon re-entering the small living space, “I owe you an apology – man to man – and half an explanation as well maybe.”

“No,” Lindir exclaimed – blushing – when he realised that everyone was looking at him, “no, it’s quite alright. I am being silly.”

“Not really,” Ann’ interrupted his self-recriminations, “it’s no crime to misunderstand something and be hurt; what is kind of idiotic though is to take off before anyone can explain what really happened, don’t you think?”

“I know what happened,” Lindir breathed in so low a voice that one would have had to be able to read lips to catch his words.

“She’s not them,” Ann’ cupped his cheek tenderly, “and you’ll never move past what has happened if you run at the first sign of problems.”

“She’s my sister,” Legolas almost screamed as he pressed a beer into Lindir’s hand, “and God knows, I love Lú more than anyone in this world right now; I’d kill a man for her without batting an eye, but all that love? It is as pure as spring water.”

“I am right here,” Lú interrupted, “could you please stop talking about me as if I wasn’t?”

And then, turning to Lindir, she hissed: “What is your problem exactly, mate?”

“Envy,” he sighed, “not even jealousy – for you’re not mine – no, just sheer envy.”

“What would you be envious of?” Lú scoffed, “You’re just as handsome, just as smart, just as competent and – let me add – much easier to work with than my brother. So what exactly gets your goat here?”

“Really?” Lindir cocked one eyebrow in disbelief, “Isn’t it obvious?”

“He thought I was dating you, remember?” Legolas jeered.

“Not helping,” Ann’ commented dryly.

“We are clearly not,” Lú groaned, “and that has been made clear.”

“Maybe, you need to talk about this in private while Legolas and I open this bottle of wine?” Ann’ suggested with a wink.

“Maybe not, as we have to get back tonight and he’s our driver?” Lú shot back sharply, “You can drink the wine at home. It will keep.”

Lindir closed the door to the small bedroom – the sheets rumpled and a pile of clothes on the floor – with a soft thud.

“What’s the matter?” Lú asked softly; she knew him to be meticulous and this hint of neglect was an accurate depiction of the chaos in his mind.

“Don’t make me say it,” Lindir begged just as quietly, “I don’t know how much more of my pride I can lose before I simply disintegrate.”

“Come back home with us then,” she pleaded, “we need you.”

“Work was that bad? The plans were all there though.”

“Nobody is talking about the roster and the schedules, Lindir!” Lú sighed deeply.

“We miss you,” she went on and, deciding to be braver than him, she added, “I missed you.”

“You did?” His eyes widened in surprise, the starless darkness of them swirling with hope.

“Terribly,” she admitted, “I am used to your pretty face and it’s just not the same without your sweet song in the morning.”

Lindir lifted a hand to his cheek as if to check said face; he had never thought himself ugly, but he was aware that he was rather plain.

“Ann’ has hinted at some things you might believe about yourself,” Lú whispered, stepping closer and trapping him between his own bed and her body, “and I confess that I also always tell Golly that he’s an idiot, but that doesn’t mean that another woman – who is not his sister – might not find him delightful.”

“He is very handsome.”

“So are you!”

Lú laughed when his face melted into benign doubt; as per usual, there was no aggression in his disbelief, only a hint of sadness that stung in her soul like salt in a fresh wound.

“Come on, Lindir,” she grinned, “you are lovely. You must know that!”

“Am I?” he asked softly, “I do not think that I am, to be honest. I’m okay, I am solid, I am…far from lovely.”

Lú knew that they could have gone on like that until morning light, so she changed her approach: “As you’re apparently envious of Legolas, how about I brush your hair for you?”

It was half a joke and half an offer of peace because she truly missed him and was ready to swallow her pride and make herself agreeable if that meant that he’d come home again.

“Sure,” Lindir laughed and handed her a badly worn comb with the sheepish explanation that he had forgotten his actual brush at the hotel.

“Couldn’t get away from us fast enough, huh?” Lú commented not without a hint of vexation in her voice as she pulled her fingers through his hair slowly.

Just like in most men in the region, his hair was longer than was usual elsewhere for males and as sleek and silken as running water, while her own was a chaotic, curly mess.

“I was stupidly hurt,” he admitted, “and this feels so nice.”

It had been too long since last someone had touched him tenderly and he felt himself melting into the regular strokes of the comb making his scalp tingle.

He smelled like skin and misery, Lú thought, he smelled like solace and loneliness, and she breathed in the essence of that glass soul as deeply as she possibly could.

“What can I do to mend it?” she asked quietly; he had his back turned and maybe, just maybe, that would give him the strength to verbalise his deepest wishes.

“Stay with me,” he whispered, “stay here and sing me to sleep. I’ll drive you home before your morning shift. Send your brother and my sister home alone and stay with me!”

It was insanity to even think of such a thing, but she had asked, and he was too tired and heartsick not to speak those words that had trembled on his lips for the last minutes.

“Alright, give me a moment,” Lú said and got up from behind him, immediately missing the warmth of his body radiating into her own, and all but ran back to the living room.

“You…what?” Legolas cocked one eyebrow.

“I will stay here and watch over him,” Lú declared as if it was not a big deal, “I’ll be back before my shift starts and anyway, I am a grown woman and there’s no reason why I wouldn’t be allowed to stay wherever I want.”

“You are going to stay in the cottage of a man you’re already half besotted with,” Legolas jeered, “to watch his depressed ass – that is only depressed because he thinks you’re not interested in him – and you want me to believe you? You’re my sister, I know you better than that.”

“It’s not like that,” Lú protested vehemently, “I just want him to be alright, okay?”

“Okay,” Legolas nodded and kissed her brow tenderly, “give him my best regards. Next time you’re all off, you can come up?”

“Baby,” Lú grinned, “we’re never off together.”

“Ah, bragging,” Legolas commented, “I see you’re feeling better already. See you soon…You’ll still come home when you’re off though, right? Dad would absolutely turn up here and get you otherwise.”

“I shall,” Lú assuaged his worries with a small chuckle, “never worry.”

“Take care of him,” Ann’ whispered as she hugged her friend tight, “and it would probably not hurt him either to hear that you are apparently half besotted with him.” “Hush, you,” Lú laughed, closed the door behind her friend and her brother and took a deep breath.

She wondered if Lindir had taken off those frumpy clothes of his in the meantime or if he had not moved at all while she had been dealing with his guests in his cottage.

So, I hope you still enjoy this :D

I love you all...and things are looking up for Lindir the sweet...don't they? Do they? Is there smut on the horizon? Who knows?

-> Chapter 12

#fanfic #fanfiction #the hobbit #LOTR #Lindir #Lindir x OC #Elrond #Thranduil #Legolas #family vibes #Modern!AU #Hotel AU #Romeo and Juliet reference for the title #Long fucking title too #FML #LOL #tension #romance #sadness #Lindir is so dumb #Legolas is a whole mood

[mikuni14]

Moonlight Chicken Ep 7

Ah, Jim, another proud representative of millions of parents around the world and the majority of parents in BL series who take away (often the only) joy from their children BECAUSE THEY ACTUALLY CARE ABOUT THEM :)

There’s always something that prevents me from fully enjoying Moonlight Chicken. I have the impression that the series had good ideas for the plot, but did it the way the sound engineer of this series did his job - meaning they fucked up :D For me, the only thing that the series has done good so far is Li Ming, Saleng and highlighting the socio-economic problems .

It's also a production, where the main couple gets more and more irritating to me with each new ep. At first I liked them, then I stopped liking Wen, started feeling sorry for Jim, now I see that they both deserve each other and are actually made for each other :D Wen couldn’t make the decision to finally break up with Alan for 4 months and did it only because his secret was out. Jim can't decide for almost 6 months whether to give Wen a chance or not, he treats it as if having a boyfriend is soooooooooooooo crucial, earth shattering thing, life and death situation!   Meanwhile, Saleng considered his options and made the decision to become a parent, to bring new life to this world, Li Ming learned a new language, Heart’s family underwent a serious change, and Heart’s parents learned enough sign language to talk to their son. And Jim and Wen are out there like 🤷‍♀️  It would be funny if it wasn't so pathetic.

My dislike of JimWen was finally sealed by Wen's suggestion that he and Jim could sleep in Alan and Wen's bed while injured Alan stays with someone else to not impose on Wen. It was just so..... not cool. But at least it now it’s obvious, that sleeping on the couch or at friend’s house was always an option for Wen 🙄 that is, if he really wanted.

I was 99.9% sure that Jim's famous line from the trailer was taken out of context. When it turned out that he really thinks so.. and that he still explains himself to his homophobic sister... and also thinks that Li Ming is gay because of him... wtf is this show, why they exaggerate Jim’s patheticness so much, making him such an old, stupid, ignorant, “village idiot”?

I liked the Saleng and Li Ming scene the most in this episode, their honesty, directness, maturity, no ideologies in their words and choices. I also liked Li Ming with his uncompromising, mature approach to parental love in conversation with Jim (Li Ming will be ok, he won't let toxic relationships affect his mental health and his life). Jim was less mature than Li Ming, giving him stupid advice and beer (my parents were pretty laid back but even they offered me alcohol first time when I was in my late twenties lol) and that's probably why his life looks like this :P Sorry for being so harsh, but Jim is now pushing all my limits of tolerance - and I’ve been very forgiving so far because of his problems.

Gaipa and Alan, well, I hope they don't become each other's consolation prize, it must be hard to form a relationship knowing they're each other's second choice..

I just want to say that Li Ming as an angsty, moody teenager is just AWESOME 😍

As a misophonic, oversensitive to annoying sounds, I wanted to thank the show's sound team for driving me crazy with recording every animal in Thailand and every, EVERY sigh, gasp Jim and Alan made. GOOD JOB GUYS! 👏

Thai BL won't let go of the song even at the funeral. I’m actually impressed. 

#Moonlight Chicken #thai bl #bl drama

[thesoundofmadness]

my surgery is a month away and I’m already anxious about it

#specfially what’s gonna happen the night before #if it wasn’t obvious enough I’ve been having sleeping problems for a while #with the biggest factor being I can’t sleep with hunger #but I won’t be allowed to eat anything after midnight #and my dad might not cook dinner that night because why should I expect my father #my only caretaker #to cook dinner for me without his stupid girlfriend around #earlier he got mad at us for asking to order out when he wasn’t making dinner #‘make the eggrolls in the freezer’ that’s not a meal sir #what should I expect from him when all he does is smoke weed and drink all day #it wasn’t even 9 and he drank a Bloody Mary #he hit a thing before my doctors appointment this morning #like I get it shit is fucking awful right now and weed and alcohol are your only coping mechanisms #but you have two teenage daughters to take care of #learn some fucking self control and don’t do anything before noon #and don’t think I didn’t see you pouring beer into your to go cup earlier #fuck #ignore this I’m just tired and angry #and anxious #it’s one am I wanna sleep

[michelle-is-writing]

Tired, Johnny Knoxville

Word Count: 1.3k~

With the recent movie in the works, the guys have all gotten to relive some of their craziest moments while also coming up with other crazy ideas to add to the bunch. On top of everything, the guys are also being interviewed constantly whether it be podcasts or videos to shoot. This has kept everyone busy - especially Johnny.

So, with today being the last day of filming before having a week off, I wasn’t all too surprised when Johnny came into our house and gave me a quick kiss before heading to our shared bedroom and immediately passing out on top of our bed. Upon walking in after him, I covered my grin with my hand as my eyes caught onto a huge problem. Not only was Johnny still in his clothes from the day of shooting, but he’s lying on top of the covers completely with each part of his body blocking any way to get under them. Unless I manage to curl up around Johnny’s spreadout limbs, I’m not going to be able to sleep with him in our bed tonight. Although, knowing how tired Johnny has to be, I don’t have the heart to wake him up and make him move.

Despite there being no noise or lights in the living room to distract me, I still can’t close my eyes and fall asleep peacefully on this couch. I’ve been this way for a couple of hours now, and I know that if I don’t go to sleep within the next few minutes, I’m not going to be able to properly function tomorrow. I guess sleeping next to Johnny for so long has made me dependent on having his warm body next to mine. Without him, I don’t think I’ll be able to successfully get a full night’s rest.

A hand slowly gliding over my hip startles me into jolting up from my lying position on the couch and turning to face where the hand came from. Of course, it’s only Johnny sitting on the coffee table in front of me, but the fact that he’s awake and out of bed makes me frown. “Johnny, what are you doing up?” I ask, turning to face him fully with our knees touching. I was trying so hard to focus on falling asleep that I hadn’t noticed him even turning the living room light on. “I thought you were asleep.”

“I was,” he answers, moving his hand to rest on my leg with a smile. Upon looking a bit closer at his face, I can see the few hours of rest he got were enough to make the dark circles under his eyes practically disappear. Although, that could also be due to the fact that he’s finally off for more than a couple days and feels a bit relieved. “But you never came to bed,” Johnny states the obvious, his smile turning into a frown. “Did you not want to sleep with me or something?”

His question makes me smile teasingly as I lean forward to place my lips against his, my hand coming up to rest against his now bare shoulder. I don’t know how he was able to fall asleep in these clothes. To wear them on the set of movie is one thing, but to comfortably rest in is another. It’s no wonder he’s now void of his sailor’s hat and matching button-up - he probably woke up just to take them off.

“You looked so comfortable, and I didn’t want to wake you,” I explain, leaning my forehead against his as his hand remains on my thigh. “Besides, you’ve been working so hard on the new movie that you needed the sleep,” I add on, feeling him nod before he moves over to sit beside me on the couch.

Wrapping his arms around me, Johnny pulls me onto my side with him as he lies down on the couch just like I was doing moments ago. With my back pressed against his chest and his arms holding me close to him, Johnny nuzzles his nose into my hair before sighing. “I’ve missed this,” he murmurs, his voice soft and gentle. “Stupid work has made me so tired that I can barely process, but the one thing I’ve wanted to do is just be close to you. Maybe you can come on set with me from now on.”

With a smile, I turn in his arms to face him before leaning up and planting a short kiss to his lips. “I’ve wanted to be close to you too, honey,” I tell him, leaning my head onto his arm perched against the couch cushion. “And you know what; I’d love to watch everyone bust their asses, maybe even help you mess with the guys.”

Johnny laughs, nodding at my words in excitement. I can tell he’s already putting stuff together in his head, which can be a bit scary. “But for right now, I’m glad you’re off for a week,” I confess, watching as Johnny smiles at my words.

“I’m glad too,” He tells me, moving closer to attach his lips back onto mine. Our eyes simultaneously close as I begin to kiss back, the corners of my lips turning up into a smile as I feel Johnny’s hand resume sliding up my hip and underneath my shirt. Just as his thumb grazes over the skin of my waist, I move my hand to place it on his arm, catching every tattooed line underneath my fingers. At the reminder of what the two tattoos are, I can’t help but pull away and giggle, Johnny’s face turning confused at my actions. “What... is it my breath?”

I only laugh more, shaking my head as I wave my hand in front of him. “No, no,” I tell him, finally calming down enough to look up at Johnny. “It’s just... I can’t kiss you while thinking about ‘leon,’ babe,” I admit, watching as he smiles for a second before turning serious. It’s a playful kind of serious, however, as I don’t think even Johnny can be serious when talking about his tattoos.

“What? You don’t like Leon?” He asks, making me laugh even more. Johnny’s lips curve into a goofy smile before he begins pushing his shoulder toward me, putting ‘Leon’ right by my face. “Well, Leon likes you! Give him a kiss!”

“Johnny, quit it!” I almost yell as I begin cackling at his actions. “You’re gonna make me fall on the floor!” Expectantly, Johnny’s actions don’t stop despite my words, and instead, he only adds to his antics by wiggling his body closer to me. Pushing away at his arm doesn’t work, of course; Johnny is a bit stronger than me, after all.

“I’m about to- fuck it!” Without another word, I throw a leg over his hip and use all my strength to push him back onto his back with me now on top of him. Almost instantly, he stops what he was doing seconds ago before gently resting his hands on my hips and smiling.

“Well, this is much better,” He sighs, his playful attitude now completely different. Smiling back at him, I rest my arms beside his head before lying down on his chest and nuzzling my nose into the crook of his neck. In response, Johnny turns his head and kisses the side of my head, a happy sigh following his lips afterward. “Much better.” 

Nodding, I feel myself close my eyes as I begin to feel tired like before, but now, I think I can actually sleep since Johnny’s out here with me. Murmuring a quick good night to him, I push my face further into his neck as one of his hands slides up from my hip to brush my hair away from my face. Just before dozing off, I hear Johnny’s voice one more time before he passes out too.

“Good night, beautiful~”

#johnny knoxville x reader #johnny knoxville #johnny knoxville imagine #johnny knoxville imagines #jackass #jackass forever #Jackass x reader #johnny knoxville fanfiction #johnny knoxville x fem!reader