#two very close and very respectable friends follow me on here now so uh

[princessbrunette]

how do you think would rafe react when crybaby!reader gets upset when he unintentionally hurts her feelings and she’s serious upset and not adorable upset? yk what i mean? like suddenly he’s realizing she’s not being dramatic but really hurt🎀

୧ ‧₊˚🧸ྀི ৎ୭

i feel as though season one rafe would do this the most often. season 2 rafe is very intentional with his words because he’s learnt to be more careful not to get himself in trouble, esp towards the end of season 2 when he’s spending a lot of time with limbrey and her brother and you can see him acting a lot more grownup. season 3 rafe is actually fairly gentle, especially around women — he’s figured out how to conduct himself and is very set on changing his ways which is why he’s very respectful towards sofia and also very mindful of kiaras space when they were trapped at singhs together — if she flinched when he’d come too close he’d immediately stop approaching or he’d slow his movements and put his hands up to show it was okay. season one rafe however, doesn’t give a fuck how anyone feels really.

most importantly, he doesn’t know how to have a girlfriend yet. i was speaking about this last night in dms with indy — and it seems very clear that he doesn’t get how to handle you yet. he doesn’t seem like he’d understand that he needs to take you on dates still once you’re in a relationship or ask you to be his valentine etc, not seeing the point of it. so i can definitely see him messing up and hurting your feelings really bad.

he’s very much a boy, and likes to do boy shit with his friends. stand around and drink beer and talk and watch the game. he doesn’t mind you being there, but if he’s wrapped up in conversation with his friends he kinda doesn’t care so much if you’re there because he’s happy doing his thing. say you’re at the country club and this is happening, your boyfriend laughing and being obnoxious with his pals. you’d approach and he’d give you a little side hug, pulling you to his side but he’d continue talking to his friends and not so much you.

“what are you guys doing?” you ask quietly to just him and he glances your way.

“uh, just hanging out? you didn’t find any of your little friends to talk to?” his hand drops to your lower back and you blink up at him obviously.

“yeah they’re here just… wanted to be with you?” you furrow your eyebrows and he briefly laughs at something kelce said, only offering you half of his attention before looking at you again.

“well we’re just doing guy stuff, a’ight? go hang with them. don’t need to hover around me, i’ll just come get you when we’re leavin’.” its an offhand comment, but your face immediately falls. ‘hovering around him’? when the two of you were alone he often demanded all of your attention, but now with his friends here it was like he didn’t care at all. to add salt to the burn, he gives your ass a little pat and let’s go of you. “go on.” he hurries you along.

you feel that hot feeling in your chest and you can feel yourself getting upset. “i think im going to go home.” you’re polite as you can be but your voice shakes and it catches his attention, following you when you take a few steps, still half smiling.

“wh— are you serious? why?”

you avoid his eye like you don’t even know him, lifting a shoulder and brushing him off. “just— just want to.” he watches you wipe your tears away as you leave the club, and he sighs in confusion, taking a sip of his beer.

topper was actually the one to teach him about how to handle an emotional girlfriend. he sighed out a “i don’t understand this girl, man.” when you were out of sight and after some convincing— rafe learned the valuable lesson of grovelling. he shows up at your door an hour later, pink in the face from being in the sun and a little warm and sweaty.

“uh, can i come in?”

he lets you cry into his chest as he squints at the wall in confusion trying to understand you. he did love you, believe it or not — he just didn’t have a way with words.

“look okay, you know when i say shit i don’t mean it, alright? i’m a guy it’s — it’s just what we do. i didn’t mean for you to take it that way.” he cups your face, a strand of his pushed back hair fallen onto his forehead.

“you hurt my feelings.” you mewl, and his heart does infact melt a little, blinking rapidly as he sighs in frustration with himself.

“whats gonna make this better? huh? you— you wanna punch me or something?” he asks desperately which actually gets a giggle from you. “well what then?”

“just want you to like me.” you sigh sadly and he stares at you dumbly.

“i do. so now what?”

“prove it.” you huff and he shakes his head a little, dumbfounded.

“prove i— okay.” he grabs your face, pulling you in for a kiss.

୧ ‧₊˚🧸ྀི ৎ୭

#tracymbcm #rafe cameron prompt

[buckymorelikefuckme]

no shelf control

bucky barnes x fem reader

words: 1.3k

a/n: this is very not serious but i think it's p cute hehe. any and all mistakes are mine. feedback is encouraged & welcomed ♡

part 2 ❀

The only reason Bucky is even in the public library is because Steve asked him to pick up a book he reserved. They'd only hold it for so long, and he got caught up at work, so he'd asked Bucky to grab it for him.

He figures he’ll browse while he’s here. Perhaps something will catch his interest.

And, well… Something definitely catches his interest. But it's not a book.

He wandered the stacks for about fifteen minutes before giving up and deciding to go ahead and collect Steve’s book. But then he saw you standing behind the circulation desk, scanning returned books back into the system and setting them on a waiting cart to be put in their respective spaces.

There's a cute pair of tortoise shell frames perched on your button nose, a furrow between your eyebrows as you concentrate on separating the books on the cart. Your cheeks are adorably round and your lips pouty. Your hair is pulled back by a butterfly clip and you're drowning in a large, pastel sweater.

You're the exact opposite of who he is, at least in appearance, exactly his type–all soft curves and sweetness etched into your being. There's no way in hell he’s going to leave this place without asking you out.

Bucky squares his shoulders, gives himself a quick mental pep talk, and marches over to you. He puts on his most charming smile as he rings the little bell on the counter.

You glance at him over the top of your glasses, looking almost bored. “May I help you?”

He clears his throat. Okay, so he’ll have to try a little harder. That's fine.

“My friend asked me to pick up a book that's being held for him,” he explains, placing both hands on the desk as he leans in a little more.

“What's the name?” you ask.

“His or mine?” Bucky replies, winking.

You tilt your head slightly. “Is the book being held for you?”

His smile falters. “Uh. No?”

“Then I’ll need his name.”

He squints. “Steve Rogers,” he finally replies after a beat.

You type the name into the computer and click around for a moment, then you turn around and bend over to rifle through stuff under the counter. It gives Bucky a fantastic view of your ass, and it can't be an accident.

“Ah, here you are,” you say, returning to your full height with a book in your hand. You scan it and slide it over to Bucky with a customer service smile. “All done. Tell your friend he has two weeks until it's due for return.”

“Thanks,” he mutters, biting the inside of his cheek when you immediately go back to work, ignoring his presence.

He can't just give up now, though. His pride is on the line. Quickly, he looks around for an excuse to continue talking to you.

“So, like, there's a lot of books here,” he blurts.

His ears grow hot when you pause, looking at him again with a single eyebrow raised.

“Yes,” you say carefully. “It's a library.”

Bucky forces a laugh. “Right, yeah! I just mean, uh, you might have one I’ve been trying to find for ages,” he lies.

You nod slowly. “That is very likely, yes.”

“What do you like to read?” he questions, suddenly, trying to save himself from further embarrassment.

You open and close your mouth, thrown. “What?”

“Could you recommend something for me?” he asks. He nods toward the cart. “Anything in there worthwhile?”

You look at the cart, then back to him. You're clearly struggling to follow, which he has to admit to himself is understandable, because he's also struggling. He's never had to work this hard and it's messing him up.

“There's a book on the history of Romania?” you suggest like a question.

“That sounds cool. I'll take it,” he grins.

“Really?” you reply, incredulous, before shaking your head with an embarrassed twist to your mouth. “I mean–sorry. I'll get that for you.”

But Bucky panics as you turn and grab it, because, “I don't have a library card,” he rushes to say. He's struck with inspiration, though, and quickly follows up with, “But can you still check me out?”

He tries to conceal his smirk, feeling supremely proud of himself for that pickup line. However, his celebration is short-lived.

You blink at him, frowning. “No, I'm afraid not. You need a library card to check out books, sir.”

His smile drops entirely. “Are you doing this on purpose?”

You frown harder. “Doing… what? My job?”

“No, pretending like I'm not hitting on you,” he huffs.

Your glasses slip down as your eyes widen, jaw slackening in surprise. “What?” you squeak.

It's so cute, but Bucky can't take it anymore.

“Look, I've been trying to ask you out for the last five minutes, but I can't tell if you're blowing me off or not.”

“I… I didn't know,” you confess, averting your gaze, pushing your glasses back up your nose. “I'm not used to someone flirting with me.”

Now it's Bucky's turn to be incredulous. “Seriously?” At your tentative nod, he scoffs. “What the hell is wrong with people? You're so cute, and sexy. How could anyone not wanna ask you out?”

You bring a hand up to your own cheek bashfully, and Bucky’s about to combust. If he was a betting man he'd wager your skin is warm to the touch.

“How about this,” he begins, leaning on the counter once again, even closer than before. He loves the way your doe eyes blink up at him. “Why don't I start over and make it abundantly clear what my intentions are.”

“O-Okay,” you reply.

He grins, and this time he gets a reaction out of you. You bite your lip as you fidget with the too-long sleeves of your sweater.

“Hi, I'm Bucky. I think you're insanely attractive and I'd love to take you on a date.”

A soft giggle from you and he knows it deep down to his very core–he's a goner.

“Hi,” you reply, shyly tucking some loose strands of your hair behind your ear as you offer your name. “A date sounds fun.”

He lifts his hand and gently nudges under your chin, catching you by surprise. “Wonderful. Here,” he says, reaching into his pocket for his phone and handing it over, “put your number in.”

Still adorably flustered, but with an ever present smile that makes your round cheeks bunch up in the sweetest way, you take his phone and input your number. After you give it back, Bucky sends you a text right away.

“Now you have my number, too,” he announces happily. “I expect to hear from you soon, yeah? Let me know when you're free.”

You nod. “Yeah, of course.”

“Bye, darlin’,” he says with a wink, grabbing Steve’s book as he begins walking backwards.

You cover your cheeks with your hands again. “Bye,” you mutter quietly.

Oh yeah. This is perfect. Bucky doesn't turn around, eyes still locked with yours, until he bumps into one of the kiosks. You muffle your giggles into your sleeve as Bucky flushes. His grin doesn't waver, though.

He waves and feels like he floats out of the building, and still feels like he's floating when he makes his way to Steve’s apartment later that evening. When Steve answers the door, Bucky plants a messy, loud kiss on his cheek, ignoring his disgusted and outraged exclamation, saying an emphatic, “Thank you,” before he hands the book over.

Steve stares in bewilderment as his best friend hums the whole way to the elevator. He hasn't got the slightest clue what put that dorky smile on Bucky’s face, but he's sure he’ll find out soon enough. He looks down at the book in his hand as he closes his door and stops in his tracks.

“This isn't my book,” he states dumbly.

The History of Romania sits innocently in his grasp. He sighs deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. He’s gonna kill Bucky.

#avengers fic #marvel fic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky x you

[hangesslut]

Captain and his Soldier

Levi Ackerman x Reader

It’s another freezing day in the Scout’s barracks. It’s been snowing for what feels like 10 years. Due to the heavy snow, we have the day off. I’m grateful because there is NO way I would have survived out in that cold. I slide on my plain clothes and a jumper that Reiner lent me. It’s huge and cozy, it smells like him too. As soon as I’m about to open the main door it comes flying open. “Y/N! Breakfast is almost over, where have you been?!”

Ah, Sasha… the most food motivated individual I think I’ve ever met.

I laugh, “I was just getting dressed, I’m coming don’t worry.”

She smiles at me warmly, “Well then, come on! I’m getting seconds!” She whispers that last part out and I shake my head. We make it down to the dining hall and I see all of my friends sitting and chatting with each other. “Y/N!” My eyes travel the crowd until I see Eren waving at me from across the room. He’s standing next to no other than Captain Levi. “What on earth could he be doing with him?” I think to myself. I start to wave back when I see he’s actually calling me over. I send a glance back to Sasha and she jus shrugs. I sigh and head over to the two men. Well, one man and one boy. I make my way up to them and salute. “Captain Levi, sir.” He nods at me and waves a hand. “It’s okay Y/N, you can relax” Eren looks at me wide-eyed as he says this.

I scrunch my eyebrows in confusion. I drop my salute and stand there somewhat awkwardly. “So, Y/N is it? Titan boy here tells me you’re one of the best soldiers here.” I glance up at Levi, dragging my eyes from the floor.

“I-uh, that’s kind of him to say, sir.” He tilts his head back lightly, I can feel my body tense. “Well, are you? Are you one of the best soldiers here, Y/N?”

I’m pretty sure at this point I’ve physically stopped breathing. I gulp. “I do believe that I am somewhat more advanced than some others here, sir.”

He laughs. He actually laughs! “Is that so? I’d definitely like to see for myself.”

He has a half smirk on his face as he stares me down. I look over at Eren who has the audacity to have an encouraging look on his face. That little shit.

“Sir, with all due respect, I don’t think it would be appropriate for me to, well, to…” I trail off, unable to come up with an excuse. Levi nods and steps closer to me.

“As far as I’m concerned, it’s up to me and me only to decide was appropriate and what isn’t, Y/N.” My breath hitches and I stare into his eyes. My body is incredibly stiff. “Y-yes sir!”

I let out a breath as he backs up against the wall once again. “You’re excused, soldier.” I salute him again and then run off back towards my table, Eren following me close behind.

“What the fuck, Eren?!” He jumps back slightly alarmed by me yelling.

“What?! Captain Levi was asking who I thought were the two best soldiers and I told him you and Mikasa!” I groan and slam my head onto the table.

“Now he wants me to ‘prove myself’ or something!” I pick my head up and look in the direction of where Levi was. He’s sitting at a table, a little closer and smirking at me. I hurry and send my eyes to the table. I hear Reiner laugh as he plops down next to me.

“Oh Y/N, you aren’t scared of little tiny Captain Levi, are you?” I roll my eyes and lightly push him as he throws his arm around my shoulder.

“No I’m not scared, Reiner! I’m just… he’s a little intimidating sometimes.” He laughs again.

“I think he just likes you. Probably got a little crush on our Y/N.” He pinched my cheek and winks at me.

I shrug, “I doubt that very much. He’s probably just picking on me like he does everyone else.”

Reiner smirks. “Wanna test that theory?” I turn to face him about to question what he meant when his lips slam onto mine. My eyes shoot wide open as he wraps his hand up into my hair and pulls me closer. My body starts to relax and I kiss him back. A couple people at the table hoot and holler, someone else whistles. This is…crazy. He pulls back slightly, my eyes flutter open and look into his.

“I-Reiner…” my words fail and he smiles lightly.

“Look at Levi, Y/N.” He whispers in my ear and I slowly drift my eyes over to the Captain. He looks, well, he looks pissed. Reiner fully pulls away and I catch Levi’s eyes. He quickly stands up, practically running towards our table. I feel two hands grab tightly onto my shoulders and haul me up and out of the seat.

“Captain, sir! What are you-“ Levi cuts me off.

“Shut up, brat. We’re going for a walk.” He drags me out of the dining hall and continues on until we reach an empty hallway. I’ve never been here before,

“Where are we?” My question falls on deaf ears and he pushes me gently against the wall.

“Y/N… a-are you with Reiner?” His body is touching mine, but his eyes are on the floor.

I take a deep breath in and sigh quietly.

“No, Levi. I’m not with Reiner…” I try to get his eyes to look at me. When he finally does he looks like he might cry. “Then why was he kissing you?”

I slowly reach up and place my hand on his face. He flinched and then relaxes into my touch.

“I-Levi, he said that you might have a crush on me and wanted to ‘prove it’ so he kissed me to see your reaction.” He scrunched his eyebrows up and then relaxes them, nodding.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I shouldn’t have acted the way I did… I just, I’ve watched you for awhile. During training and out on expeditions. I know I don’t know you personally, but I think I’ve fallen for you.” My eyes are wide and widen at each word. Levi. Captain Levi. The Commanders right hand man. Humanity’s Strongest. He likes me. Levi likes me. “Y/N, please say something…” I snap out of my trance, hearing his voice again.

“I-I might like you too?” It comes out as a question rather than a statement. He smiles down at me and pulls me into his arms. I stand there for a moment, not sure what to do. “Please Y/N, hug me back.” I wrap my arms around his neck, resting them on his shoulders. He takes a deep breath and slowly breathes it out, the warm air fanning over my neck. I slowly melt into his touch. Relaxing entirely, allowing myself to just be held. He pulls back and looks into my eyes.

Stepping back he smiles and grabs my hand. “Y/N, would you like to go on a date with me?”

I smile back, wider and squeeze his hand.

“Levi, I would love to.” He pulls me in for another hug. Pulling away he kisses my forehead, “I think you should go finish your dinner.” I laugh at his comment while trying to conceal my blushing face. “I probably should… I’ll see you later, Captain.” He smiles down at me and pushes off the wall, “See you later, Soldier.” Walking back to the dining hall, all I can think about is what the hell I’m going to tell my friends.

#aot #aot x reader #levi ackerman #aot fanfiction #captain levi #levi x reader #attack on titan

[cactusnymph]

Prompt 33, bandaging the other’s hand and not quite letting go, for dragon age? ❤️

"Ah, I miss our dear Wynne and her impressive bo—"

"Don't. Say it."

Alistair has no capacity for Zevran's jokes right now. Every single muscle in his body is hurting and his blood is humming with the awareness of at least a dozen Darkspawn in the area close by.

Zevran's ability to make light of situations is something that Alistair might be able to admire if Zevran wasn't also bleeding out of various wounds.

Having Wynne here would make all of this so much easier and way less dangerous.

"It would do you good to think of something nice in a dark situation like this, my dear Alistair", Zevran says and doesn't bat an eye when Alistair goes to wash one of the deep cuts between his ribs. Zevran's pain tolerance is a frightening thing to behold.

The sweat on his forehead and his unusually pale skin tells a different story, of course.

He wishes he didn't drink his last healing potion an hour ago. While Zevran's pain tolerance might be very impressive, Alistair knows that he's the one who can take the heaviest hits. He should have taken the brunt of this.

"Yet again you're not following my advice. You look as if you're thinking of funerals and Mabari excrements", Zevran says and manages a smirk.

"I'll start thinking about nice things once you stop bleeding out", Alistair mumbles, pressing a bandage on one of the wounds and tying it as tightly as possible to stop the bleeding. Then he moves onto the next.

Three Darkspawn down the tunnel behind them.

He hopes Nerian is safe. Usually Alistair wouldn't mind if Morrigan's head got ripped off by an ogre, but maybe not while they're already in such dire circumstances.

"Is that worry I detect, my friend?"

For some reason Alistair wishes that Zevran wouldn't keep calling him that.

"I don't want Nerian to look at me with a disapproving frown when I let you die", Alistair lies, rummaging around in his pack to see if he has any elfroot left to disinfect some of the nastier cuts on Zevran's thigh.

Since they headed into the Deep Roads Alistair didn't exactly have time to examine his feelings for—well. Neither Nerian nor Zevran. Instead of taking some quiet time to contemplate his attraction towards not one but two men, Alistair is zoned into the constant humming of the Darkspawn blood flowing through his veins.

He could really use a good night of sleep under the stars without nightmares of the Archdemon.

"Ah yes. Your fellow Grey Warden has a fierce aura of disapproval about him whenever something displeases him. I can see how that would strike fear into your heart", Zevran says and watches Alistair's every move as he does his best to clean the wound with water and elfroot.

Alistair glances up at Zevran's pale, sweaty face and swallows.

"So. I noticed you—uh. Stopped. With the. With the flirting", Alistair finally says. This is absolutely the worst time to address this, but Alistair could do with a little distraction from the horrors and maybe Zevran feels the same.

Zevran chuckles weakly and Alistair is concerned about the way his eyelids droop.

"I am nothing if not respectful", Zevran says, making Alistair snort. "And since I noticed that you fancy our dear leader I have graciously decided to take a step back."

Five Darkspawn fifteen meters ahead.

The air smells like dust and blood.

"You don't have to", he finally mumbles, his ears burning with shame and the blood rushing into their tips.

There's a beat of silence while Alistair starts bandaging Zevran's hand. He's very aware of every callus and the way they're almost holding hands like this, with Alistair cradling the bleeding palm in one hand while cleaning the wound with the other one.

This is ridiculous. He has to concentrate.

For a breathless moment Alistair is scared that Zevran went unconscious, but when he glances up he registers that Zevran studies his face, his expression unusually serious and below all the strain there's a hint of curiosity that makes Alistair's cheeks burn and his heart hammer in his rib cage.

"Well, aren't you full of surprises", Zevran says with a lopsided smile. Alistair fumbles with the final bandage as he tries to sort the Darkspawn awareness from the rushing of blood he feels while he feels Zevran's eyes on him.

He only realizes too late that the bandage is already done and he's still holding on to Zevran's hand. Alistair takes a deep breath before hastily letting go and turning away from Zevran to grab his shield.

"Stay there", he orders and in one fluid motion beheads a Darkspawn turning the corner.

No one is going to die today. Not on his watch.

feel free to send me one of these <3

#alistair x zevran #zevran arainai #alistair theirin #dragon age #dragon age origins #dragon age: origins #da fic #warden mahariel #zevran x mahariel #alistair x mahariel #alistair x mahariel x zevran #zevistair #mi writes

[timetravelerpyrite]

Uh, hi.

My name is Pyrite, I go by he/him mainly… don't mind she/her though. Newly found out I like Pup/Pupself pronouns too.

I'm 30. (B-day is November 16th, if that matters to anyone.)

//Current Arc: None rn!

//Finished Arcs: Fool's Faller, ABSOLute Panic!

Anyway, not too important, I just kinda found this site and realized 'Oh, there's some people like me here!' so here I am I guess?

Don't expect me to be friendly.

I don't bite! I'm trying to make more friends, but don't shove too much at me at once please.

I don't like staying in one place, it makes me anxious, no I won't tell you why. I was running a lot because of my Ex, she and my bio fam wants me to come back, but I won't, I'm actually tying to get use to staying in one place now.

Most important thing, I'm a Time Traveler and Dimension hopper, how the hell am I both?

I caught a Celebi (He/She/They) by COMPLETE ACCIDENT so now I'm kinda stuck with them, and I kinda got adopted by a Dimension hopping Iron called Iron Eclipse (It/Its)… no, I do not expect you to know what that is.

Call me a fake if you want, I don't care, just try not to hold me down in one spot, got it? Wow I don't like this part the most, why was I such a jerk in my intro??

Anyway, I might visit ya if I feel like, I have two adopted (not legally but who gives a shit) sisters @queen-of-the-phantoms and @pokedexcamp! I'm dating @silveredfeathers and living with him and his wife (and now my Girlfriend-??) @trainerlynda.

Adding an addendum: Sometimes we, his Irons, connect to his phone to be able to post. We are;

🐉: Iron Rage. (She/Her)

🕊️: Iron Serenity! (He/They/Fae)

🌋: Iron Eruption. (He/Him)

🌑🌈: Iron Eclipse.

⌛: And sometimes I steal the phone, I'm Chronos his Celebi.

🍞: Thanatos types sometimes too, she has rather broken English so it will likely be autocorrected to hell and back, please tell her if it gets a word wrong, from what I can tell she wants to understand (She/It)

//Open ask games!

Pelipper mail and malice.

Ask an invasive question.

//Magnifying glass ask game!

See his dreams and nightmares.

//A post for you to give me permission for him to hop to your character's dimension! (Either on purpose or by accident.)

//Ooc info under the cut!

//Ooc. This is a sideblog! Unreality. Mod is an adult and goes by she/her he/him pronouns All art I use is my own (Or made for me)! I follow from @theshadowqueenofthedistortion, more info about me on my main! This blog is not settled in one dimension at the moment, so expect conflicting area info. Here's some of my other accounts as well!

//Semi-Serious blog, I will participate in active silliness and also write serious stuff. Will sometimes touch on death, abuse and a few other things, I will tag the serious stuff with their appropriate tw/cw tags.

//I will not ship with anyone who isn't my BF (and myself, but that's a note for later), just for my comfort. This boi does n o t stay in one place, if he goes to visit someone he will get there himself/he fell into that universe by accident.

//Magic anons are allowed! But I am picky.

//I am very open to crossover stuff!

//This guy is very much centered around Future Paradox pokemon! He's not gonna know all the Pokemon's names and will call them 'Irons'. The Iron names are VERY much headcannons unless talking about a cannon Iron.

//When he's on the move things he says aloud will be under

[Voice to text active!] where as when he's actully writing it will be under [Pyrite is typing...]

//What the tags mean.

//Shadow Mod Speaks: Mod speaking.

//Mod Reference: Me and/or Zorana making references for this account

//Shadow Art: Art by me that isn't a ref/finished.

//Pyrite info: Self-Explanatory. For both IC and OOC.

Little Hops: His post/response tag.

Warping Reality: Closed and/or serious RP. I will also use this tag when responding seriously to something.

Where am I today?: When Pyrite is mainly talking to himself.

The Pokemon tags: They are for each respective Pokemon/Iron

Magic Anon Things.: Stuff with magic anons.

Triangle Terror: Pyrite dealing with the truth triangles. He can't turn them off, so hehehe.

#//Shadow Mod Speaks #//Mod Reference #//Shadow Art #Little Hops #Warping Reality #Where am I today? #//Pyrite info #Magic Anon Things. #Triangle Terror #Iron Rage #Iron Serenity #Iron Eruption #Iron Eclipse #Chronos the Celebi #Thanatos the Wandering Warning #pokemon irl #pokeblogging #pokereality #pokeblog rp #rp intro #pokeblog into

[jeskoholic]

(G) I-DLE: First Chapter 2: Idle Room

This is Chapter 2 of a finished series. If you finished out on the previous entries, you can check my masterlist here.

---

Soojin and I followed the rest of her members towards their dorms. I got to say, they really act different from what they’re portrayed on their stages and in front of the general media and public. Everyone else was so outgoing and bubbly which really came as a surprise since they always show them as this fierce and dangerous group of girls that you do not want to mess with. At least that what they seem to me. Anyway, I paced slowly with Soojin and my heart was pounded against my own chest as we made our way towards the girls’ respective dorms.

“I heard you were hired for two weeks now, Hanjin?” she asked in inquiry, breaking the short silence.

“I-uh- well yeah,” I replied rather shyly, clearly caught off guard. “They said that I would be managing a girl group. I’m not really sure I understood the job description properly when I first heard of it.”

Soojin smiled. Her red lips lining sexily on her perfectly fair and round face. “Sorry to disappoint. We’re quite a handful. You’ll know why soon.”

“No, no I do not mean that! I mean, I wasn’t really into Korean music despite being half-Korean myself. I lived my life quite accustomed to western music styles so the music, as well as the artists, never really came to my attention until now.”

“I see. So this must be a huge adjustment for you. It must be something relatively new.”

“It is actually,” I am starting to get comfortable here. “We’ll I’m not gonna lie; I did listen to a little bit of your music when I learned that I’d be managing you. You guys really are good. I love your songs, and there’s no joke about that.”

“Ah that. Soyeon actually does most of the writing and production. She divides work among us six very carefully. She was a perfect leader and a great friend, if I may add. She heavily considers everything when she makes decisions.”

“Yes I think she really is. She’s very scary on stage though.”

Soojin let out a little giggle.

“Well, ‘on stage’ is very accurate. Well that applies to all of us, not so much on the scary part but we adapt as the concept requires so. Of course by ‘us’, that includes me.”

“Why didn’t you run out like everyone else did?” I blurted out of nowhere. I had that thought in my head and I just thought it out loud oh my god.

She placed her hands behind her back. “Well, someone had to walk you here right? Looks like no one else would. They just took off before even thinking about you.”

“Oh, well that’s right… Thank you.”

I fell silent not knowing how to continue the conversation. She was very thoughtful and I could not seem to keep up with that; not to mention the huge trail of sweat that was running down from my temple. I don’t know why I was so nervous being next to her, let alone talk to her. Good thing I was beside her and quite hidden from her view otherwise things would have had been really awkward than it already was.

Not to mention I haven’t really been this close to a person this beautiful, an idol even, on top of all that. Holy shit

“By the way, how was the tour?” I asked, breaking the silence between us. I thought it was the safest question to ask.

“Exhausting, but it was worth it. I would get the exhaustion off better once I finally got to lie down on my bed upstairs.”

“It must be hard being an Idol.”

“Well it really is not easy for sure, but it would grow on you given time. Pretty much everything does. Why? Have you imagined yourself being an idol? You really have the visuals to make it, manager-nim. You have that looks with you.”

I felt my ears grow red hot like her lips at that compliment. It was so simple yet it meant so much coming from her. I merely smiled and let out a little chuckle.

“Well the entertainment industry isn’t really for me I think. I was well out in college before I went here in Korea, so it really never crossed my mind.”

“Oooh, so what does your family do for a living?”

“Well we a-“

“AIGOO, SOOJIN-UNNIE IS THE ROTTEN EGG AGAIN!” I heard Yuqi’s voice from the stairs ahead. I was so immersed to talking with Soojin I haven’t noticed that we are already here. All other members of (G) I-DLE were standing with Yuqi in front of the doorway.

“Well,” said Soojin, taking a few steps ahead the stairs and looking back towards me. “It looks like Hanjin-oppa is the rotten egg now.” She finished, exercising a toothy grin. “Newcomers are not an exception for tradition, right?”

“Ah Soojin-unnie, teasing manager-nim already,” said Yuqi as she descended towards me. Her short but slender legs were being emphasized on her very short shorts. She moved beside and casually hugged me before turning to her members.

Okay, I admit: being hugged like this on my very first day of meeting them is really beyond my expectations.

“Manager-nim here is just new to us. I don’t want him to quit his job right away because you’re all ganging up on him. It’s hard to get young and good-looking managers like him these days.”

“Yah, who told you that you can just hug him like that…?” asked the Thai member, Minnie, pointing a finger towards both of us in front of them. “Let him go so we can show him inside! He’s already turning blue!”

---

For starters, Hanjin was very surprised how spacious their dorm was.

The living room had three large sized couches surrounding a large table. To the left, there was a large TV placed elegantly on a beautifully trimmed wooden rack, with all sorts of decorations of figurines, photos, plants, and technical peripherals surrounding it, placed perfectly opposite the curtained windows at the right side of the room. Hanjin could see the small kitchen opposite the living room, separated only by a white counter. A hallway was located to the mid-right of the room, lining with the counter. Five doors were distributed on the walkway; three rooms lay on the immediate right and another room lay opposite them, just beside it was a large restroom and bathing area. The end of the hallway laid entrance to a small dance studio and another large bathroom beyond that. Despite just being back from the tour, the dorm had that girly scent to it.

“Ah~ It feels nice to be home at last,” exclaimed Soojin, placing her pouches and some more of her bags on the glass table before letting herself fall on the couch.

“I’ll be at our room. I want to get changed,” remarked Miyeon softly.

The team’s leader, Soyeon as well as the maknae Shuhua followed their unnie without a word, giving up from the exhaustion as well as the welcoming comfort of the place they called home.

Minnie sat on the other couch opposite Soojin while Yuqi went straight to the kitchen to check on the fridge. Hanjin shyly took the unoccupied couch and placed his case beside him, not quite sure if he was already welcome to sit next to them. Minnie’s eyes were quick to notice his presence and immediately moved to speak to the rather nervous young man.

“Manager-nim, since you are becoming our manager soon, did you know that our managers always shared our dorms with us? Did Manager-unnie tell you of that already?”

Hanjin’s eyes widened in disbelief as he turned towards Minnie

“Yes,” Yuqi called from the kitchen, holding a glass full of water and walking towards them. “We requested it so that we could get along together and feel the camaraderie, not necessarily in the same room but at least we’re here. Soyeon loves that idea as well, that way she can personally relay her concerns on a short notice.”

“Is that allowed? I mean… I’m a guy…”

I don’t know why I’m blatantly stating the obvious here but I’m just so damn nervous!

“I think you’re not that type who’s up to no good, right?” said Minnie, glaring her eyes at him and then smirking.

Hanjin felt his ears burn. “O-Of course I’m not!”

“Oh, look at him blush,” Soojin said with a teasing tone.

“Then we don’t have a problem with that,” Minnie replied. “We don’t have enough room for everybody though…”

Yuqi sat down and raised her free hand. “Hanjin-oppa can room with us Minnie-unnie! I don’t mind!”

Soojin and Minnie laughed at her.

“Don’t make it weird. You’re making manager-nim here sweat.”

Hanjin felt his butt sink deeper into the couch.

Do I need to be here when they discuss this?

“Hanjin Oppa,” opened Soojin. “You can take my room. I’d just room with Shuhua like we did before. It’s also the most spacious among all the current rooms here in the dorm. It hasn’t been that long since I moved anyway, so I won’t be adjusting that much.”

“But…!”

“SHUHUA…!” Soojin called towards the rooms.

Shuhua stepped out of the room with a large blanket draped over her entire body.

“Yes baby?”

“Manager-nim would take my room. We’re roommates again. Please clean your mess because I’m moving my things back there again.”

“Hey Soojin I-“he began.

“YAAAY!” exclaimed Shuhua. “I’ll get our room ready!” and then sped back towards their room.

“There’s your room Oppa. Just give me some time to clear it off of my stuff. Don’t worry, I really don’t have that much.”

“Soojin, It’s really is okay for me to--“

“Manager-nim doesn’t want to be with us,” complained Yuqi, supplying Hanjin with a pout.

“No, I don’t mean it like that, it’s just…”

I can’t wheel my way out of this it seems.

Might as well…

“Well if you guys really insist, I guess I’ll have it a go.”

Let’s see how this would turn out…

“YAAY!” exclaimed Yuqi and Minnie in unison, with Minnie standing up and raising her arms up in the air. Soojin crossed her legs and game Hanjin another red hot smile.

Soyeon emerged from their room, apparently half changed as she wore her tank top and her pajamas while carrying a pillow.

“Yah Yuqi, keep your voice down please. Miyeon-unnie’s already fast asleep.”

“She’s already asleep? We haven’t been in the dorm for what, fifteen minutes?”

Minnie and Soojin laughed in return, and Hanjin could only do so much and join the banter of her new friends on a place he would eventually call home.

#gidle #male reader #kpop #fanfic #soojin #shuhua #gidle yuqi #kpop fluff #kpop smut #kpop series

[beautifulblooms]

Hi! I would like to make a request. How about the one, when Aizawa and fem reader are in UA, like they are only 16. They started dating since second year. How started this relationship, who recognized first, and some headcanons young aizawa's and reader's relationship Sorry for mistakes, English is not my language

Dating Young Aizawa Headcanons

Gn! Reader, thanks for the request, I saw your other message apologizing for the fem reader part and thank you for that, and you did perfectly fine for explaining the request! Fluffy headcanons, Aizawa being cute and anxious, that’s really it

CIS Women and Female Aligned people, please DNI, this story and all of my others are for non-binary, masculine aligned and male readers!

See here’s the thing

Aizawa recognizes his feelings first

But he ain’t gonna act on them

No fucking way that’s happening

He’s not gonna walk up to the person he has a crush on and admit those feelings

Luckily for him, you’re the opposite

And it took a while, but after some very careful consideration and planning, you admitted your feelings

Probably either confronting him in school after/before classes

Making him a gift with a card that tell him everything

Or somehow finding a way to get the two of you in a room alone together, with the help of Hizashi of course

But whatever means the confession is

ITS SUCCESSFUL!

Let’s go with the first confession option for simplicity here-

He’s stunned, you kinda word vomited out the confession but he understands

But he doesn’t say anything for a little too long and you start to panic

“Um, I’m sorry if that was too forward and out of pocket, we can just forget it happened and move on, sorry again”

Turing around and trying to walk away you’re literally just processing everything

Then he grabs your wrist

“Don’t go, i-I don’t know how to say this but I uh, um, I like you too, like a lot, and um, yeah…”

Facing him again you are now the one in shock but it soon fades as you jump to hug him around the neck

From there he doesn’t do much in public

Like in school? Nope, not a chance

But he does take you on dates and subtlety gives you affection and gifts in public

He leaves notes in your locker

Somehow found out your code and snuck a couple gifts in there once

And by the end of second year he was far more open to kisses and hugs at school

Not 100% touchy but better than how it started

Summer break was fantastic

Forgive me for doing the cliche fanfic trope of awesome parents but I have to do it

Your parents are chill with having him over

Just like ya know, don’t close the door all the way

And understandably you both agree to do so

He pretty much has a second closet at your place just cause he spends so much time there

Your parents also don’t mind having him over a bunch

He’s respectful, quiet, and doesn’t mind following their rules

All a parent could want in their child’s “friend”

Speaking of the “friend” he is to you

Neither of you tell your parents your dating

Not yet at least

Gotta wait a few years before that happens, or wait for the two of you to get caught

He’s not a bad partner either

Very trusting

He doesn’t helicopter you

Somewhat affectionate in public, more so in closed off spaces

Such a good listener and like helps with emotional needs/issues

Definitely the best for patching you up after a fight or taking care of you when you’re sick

Best boyfriend, very good, would recommend

#aizawa x gn!reader #aizawa x reader #bnha aizawa #bnha #mha #mha aizawa #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #gn reader

[celticrune]

Very tempted to copypaste the entire ask list as revenge but I'll behave. 🌌✂️👑📎 for Temperance, 🚆☁️ for Tanwen and ☄️❇️🌈❤️ for Keiji! And maybe even 💚🎡🪤 for Val.

:3 reblog an ask meme with many questions, get punished with curiousity. and starting with temperance, smh, i see you like the evil ones

also yeah uh. long. good luck. plus the usual warnings that temperance is Not A Good Person

Temperance

🌌 MILKY WAY - what was the inspiration behind your oc? what was the first thing you decided about them?

I made Temperance in concert with Val, so you're going to get a double whammy on this one haha. Val came to be because I was talking with friends about evil DnD campaigns and we ended up making a trio of evil characters, who grew into their own setting with a main city where they do their evil. I really like characters who are living weapons of a sort and I love playing with identity, so I quickly settled on the idea of a conman with a thousand faces, who ends up disappearing behind the masks. Who has no name, is nobody noteworthy, someone you would never spare a second glance if you saw them on the street, but who because of that can steal any face and fit in anywhere. That's still a core part of Val and what makes them scary, though actually writing it and exploring it can be a bit of a pain. But! We're here to talk about the queen bitch herself. IIRC, what first gave me the idea of Temperance was a specific suggesting in the Player Handbook entry about the Conman background. Correction: It was the Charlatan background. "I owe everything to my mentor - A horrible person who's probably rotting in jail somewhere". A living weapon style conman who struggles with identity and an awful teacher who made them into what they are and who they equally resent and thank for that?? listen this is catnip to me. how could you expect me to resist. So this is where Temperance came into being. I quickly ditched the idea of the mentor being in jail, because I wanted the option of her being an active threat. Then as time went on and the other two characters in the evil trio got more fleshed out, I wanted someone more... "actively evil" to match those two. Val is a follower, and I needed a leader. Temperance, then, is everything I love to hate. She is all about facades and pretense, about fitting into society and using their prejudices against them to get ahead. She sees pawns, rather than people, and only truly respects two (2) total people. also she's a hot dangerous lady who doesn't usually do her dirty work herself, now that she is rich and established enough she doesn't have to, but she still would poison you and watch with a pleasant smile as you choke on your own vomit so. like. i'm gay i'm not blind. hope you're not regretting your questions yet as i am incapable of being concise and it will probably not get better :D

✂️ SCISSORS - what is the “last straw” for them to cut someone out of their life? how easily do they let go of people?

Haha. "How easily do they let go of people" extremely easily. Val was her most succesful project and arguably someone close to her and now that they've ran, she would still kill them without a second's thought for betraying her. If you want to be in Temperance's life on her terms, there are two rules: Adore her, and obey her. She tolerates no less, and she will not hesitate to drop you for a more willing toy if you don't have a secondary use for her. There are some rare exceptions, mainly Chal (one of the two OCs in the original evil campaign trio), but baseline? As much as lovebombing is a major facet of her emotional abuse, Temperance only cares about one person and it is herself. Anyone else is simply a means to an end and will be treated as such.

👑 CROWN - what does your oc want to be remembered as? why?

A queen. She is aware that will not happen and has settled for being a shadow queen, pulling her strings behind the scenes and watching everyone who thinks they're in control dance to her tune, but what she wants deep down is for everyone to know. To see her and see power, see influence, see control, see someone who will never ever be disrespected or fucked with.

📎 PAPERCLIP - a random fact.

I get to use a basic fact about her as a random fact cause you don't know her that well yet, score. Temperance is an albino (in her native setting, an albino tiefling), usually with a light pastel pink hair. She is also the reason Val still panics when they see someone with pink hair in a crowd or from a distance.

Tanwen

On a much nicer note! My darling ray of sunshine.

🚆 TRAIN - what is their answer to the trolley problem?

Pixel you are cruel. First answer and the aftermath: Cry, feel immensely guilty, panic, feel more guilty. She would choose to save more people but it would absolutely gut her and she would feel deeply personally responsible. Depending on the exact situation and the aftermath this is something that could break her as a character, or at least ruin her very very badly and take a long time and the right support to recover from In a philosophical classroom context: She honestly wouldn't be able to answer. Would be deeply uncomfortable with having to consider it too, and she would have to be very hard pressed to stop dodging it and actually pick one.

☁️ CLOUD - a soft headcanon

she fucking deserves one after that

As a child she made a lot of bead bracelets and she would gift them to anyone nice. The town she’s from isn’t that big, so at one point almost everyone walked around with a colourful, Tanwen-made bead bracelet.

Keiji

☄️ COMET - what do people assume about them? are they right?

When he’s lucky: Exactly what he wants them to.  That he’s annoying, that he’s an idiot, that he’s a little shit and he knows it. That he’s down to fuck, when they’re hot. 

Keiji tries very hard to give off an air that he’s untouchable, and he does that by leaning hard into being a bit of an asshole. He likes riling people up, likes getting a rise out of them, loves making fun of people who actually have morals and ideals. So he comes off as all those things, and he comes off as a guy who’s fun to get drunk with but not much else.

If you have an experienced eye you might spot how easily he keeps his balance even when wasted, or how alert he is to exits and entrances and anyone close to him, or how his slight build doesn’t quite hide the lean muscle, but to most folks he looks like nothing more than a small guy with a big attitude and a bigger mouth. He’s very happy to keep it that way right up until he kicks out their kneecaps.

❇️ SPARKLE - what is their most prized possession? what do they value?

okay now, see. i hate you. Keiji doesn’t really have material attachments. He likes stuff, he likes nice things, when he has the time and space to stay in one place for longer he immediately fills his whole bed with pillows. But in terms of a prized possession? There’s one thing that I suppose does count, and that’s from his native DnD verse. It’s an amulet with a symbol of Pelor,  the sun god the monastery is devoted to. He claims he still carries it so he can scam believers into giving him free stuff, but a part of him can’t bear to toss it. It holds the weight of a home he loved, once, where he thought he belonged and where he thought he had value, and even though all that is now ruined and broken and he should know better and he should just fucking toss the thing, he can never bring himself to.

Oh! And bonus round for GW2, in the main verse where Tahir is the commander and Keiji is his right hand (and eventually husband): When they were newly dating Tahir gave him one of his own leaves, encased in amber. Keiji wears it as an amulet and was wearing it when he was killed by Balthazar. It came with him into the realm of the Lost, and it is what reminded him of his name and his memories. In the physical world it split down the middle when Balthazar stabbed him, but when he comes back the amulet heals over too, and it now glows a faint blue to match his scar.

In general: Keiji doesn’t really value possessions. He tends to live lives where he can pick up and move at any moment. When he gets attached it’s to people

🌈 RAINBOW - what advice would they give to their younger self?

“Don’t be a fucking idiot. Don’t believe a word they say.”

❤️ RED HEART - their love language(s)?

Words of affirmation and physical touch. The former to receive, the first to give. When Keiji falls he falls hard, but it’s hard for him to show it and harder to say it. It's easier to watch what he does. See where he stands in a room, see how he'll keep finding excuses to totally casually touch the person he likes, how he can't sit on a couch next to them without laying his feet in their lap or how he can't make a joke without looking to them first to see if they laughed.

Receiving physical touch is good for him too, but words are what makes him melt. Tell him what he means to you, tell him you care and he matters and he just fucking dies. It feels surreal and impossible and he can't bring himself to really believe it and that's what makes it all the more powerful to hear. Contrary to that, though, is that the immensity of it also makes him really likely to try and squirrel out of it. Deflecting compliments, sassing to distract attention away from the sweet thing they said, anything he can manage.

When it's deep enough in the relationship he can actually be made to sit down and listen and accept it without running, but that takes time. Before that, it takes some mild force or finagling. Am I talking about literally tying him up and distracting him with sex until he's soft and floaty enough to let his guard down and you can swoop in with the praise? Maybe. It's not an underhanded tactic if it works.

Val

💚 GREEN HEART - what things make your oc feel comforted? hugs, kisses, food?

The best thing you can do for Val is be there. Be close but don't crowd them, don't touch them unless they ask or initiate it, and always leave them an open room to escape. Talk, give them something to listen to and quietly chime in with when they start to feel better. Physical contact sometimes helps, but they'll ask for it if they want it and then it's usually sitting with their shoulder pressed against yours, or resting their head on you.

The one exception re: touch is their dog, Kaylie, who is very good at grounding them when they dissociate or start to. Do they sometimes also hug Kaylie pretending she's the human and wishing they could just be normal and hug the person they care about without feeling trapped? maybe.

If we're talking self-soothing, or things they do for comfort, there's baking. When they were still with Temperance, on very rare days where they had time off and there were ingredients to spare they would make cookies for the younger girls and those are some of the rare actually treasured memories they have. They still like baking cookies, and it's both a ritual and a comfort thing for them and what they tend to when someone they like is going through a tough time and they're not sure what they can do to help. When in doubt, make friend's favourite cookies and gift those.

🎡 FERRIS WHEEL - are they someone who wants to kiss at the top of the ferris wheel?

there may in fact be a fic about that wait shit no it's N that gets the kiss at the top of the ferris wheel and not F. also this means nothing to you because it's Wayhaven related and not gw2 but shhh.

Actual answer: Yes, they'd find it charming and romantic.

🪤 MOUSE TRAP - what will always lure them into certain danger? a loved one in danger? a promise of something they are always searching for?

A loved one in danger, absolutely. They try not to but they can have a bit of a self-sacrificial streak because, well, they can handle pain better than most people and if someone needs to suffer, it is better it's them than the people they love. Children being in danger or being mistreated too, there's no way they can stand by and watch that happen without trying to interfere.

#ocs #asks #temperance #tanwen #keiji #val #did i have other tags for this #ask memes #there it's probably fine #anyway #i complain but this was really fun thank you <33 #and thank you for caring about my fool children #they're my darlings

[billie-venus-wrote-a-book]

Chapter Four

“Archive Accessible to Authenticated Staff Only”

***

              The three sat triangulated, leaning back against their beanbags- each one a fading primary colour standing out stark against the dulled, bottle-green carpet of Elmsbury-Gallows Library. The brown of their once-steaming coffee encased in the white styrofoam cups from the library coffee-maker like small, shiny buttons next to their knees, reflecting up lightly rippling rectangles from the fluorescent lights overhead. Surrounding them in their corner, were the walls of a labyrinth of polished, orange-toned wooden bookshelves, on top of which were plastic houseplants quietly gathering dust. The lights cast a greenish tint over the library, interrupted only by the harsh white glow from Amy, Kat, and Trent’s respective school laptops, all of which were nearing on a decade out of date.

The place was only a ground-floor high, with scattered chairs and coffee tables topped with flickering reading lights; these were too close to the ground to read on comfortably, therefore the library housed only a dozen or so other patrons. Alongside one of the four walls of this simple, quadrilateral space, was a row of about five Windows3.1 computers clasped inside their bulky, oblong, off-white shells, with clunky keyboards so loud when typed on that nobody ever bothered to look up anything on the system, or to use the disorientating, outdated CGI map of the town. There was a small station on a fold-out table against another one of the walls, home to a jittering coffee-maker and stacks of white, styrofoam cups, next to which were packets of sugar piled high in a small Tupperware box. The front desk sat neatly in the foyer, home to a very bored looking secretary- an elderly volunteer, presumably from the Methodist Church down in Elmsbury Common, wearing clothing so drab that his pair of bright yellow suede loafers seemed almost luminescent on his feet, in contrast. Just behind the desk was the door down into the archive, locked to the public.

“You guys want another coffee?” Kat stretched as they stood up, their bones popping in their lower back as they leaned down to pick up their friends’ cold drinks, “I’m off to grab one.”

“Oh, God, uh, not for me, thanks- I think I’ll turn into a coffee bean at this rate,” Amy looked up from her laptop, blinking hard as the white of the screen was now imprinted in a cyan square on her eyeballs, “I’ll take a tea though, if they’ve got any.”

“Mhm, one tea for Miss Cokes,” Kat mimed writing the order down on their hand, “Trent?”

“None for me,” he said flatly, not looking up, fingers furiously darting about the keyboard as he caught up on the last term’s unfinished work.

Kat raised their eyebrows, “Mmkay, so no coffee for Dr Reverend Lord Count King Trentworth the Ninth,” they met Trent’s eyes as he managed to drag himself away from the laptop screen, “esquire.”

“None for me, please.” He corrected himself. Kat smiled and skipped off towards the coffee station.

Trent tutted, “No good history books in here,” he picked up the one open by his feet to illustrate his point, “everything’s basically detailed better in the textbooks.”

“I swear we’re not meant to be using the textbooks as reference,” Amy pulled the screen of her laptop shut slightly to get the brightness out of her eyes, “only as a jumping-off point for, like, primary sources and stuff.”

Trent sighed, “yeah, well, it’s not like there’s anything of actual use in them anyway—” he was clearly frustrated with how his work was going, doing the thing he did where his brow pursed itself together in unison with his lips, “—not any real history.”

“What would be ‘real history’ then?”

He looked out of one of the high-up windows, eyes following the flight of a single crow against the white, seamless clouds, “I dunno, like a mystery or something.”

“Steady on Sherlock Holmes.”

“You know what I mean,” he smiled over to Kat carrying the two doomed-to-cool-to-room-temperature cups of tea and coffee respectively, cutting off that thought with their arrival. Trent changed the subject, “whose turn is it to go up and look for a source?”

“Uhh, I think it’s Amy’s,” Kat handed her the cup, “after you’ve finished your tea, of course.”

They had taken shifts to go up and look for sources- though admittedly as the afternoon had rolled around, they were running out of books in the more than limited History section of the collection. Most of the books in the library were self-published by local writers, who had paid to stock them on the shelves for undiscerning readers who mistakenly got the impression that that they knew what they were talking about; alongside this were a few children’s books, history books (mostly about World War One), and the colourful covers of 50p pulp horror comics stacked up and crumpled into a revolving display near the exit. Fiction was sparse, mostly paperbacks of well-known, thoroughly read classics, although there was a modest Stephen King section and a New Fiction shelf that, at one point, stocked up to ten whole volumes. The selection of history books on the 17th Century was even more scarce, however since they consisted of mostly locally-written works, it wasn’t too hard to find ones detailing strictly local history, which was what they needed for Professor Holly’s assignment.

Amy boredly traced her finger over the spines of the volumes, her free hand holding the copy of ‘North-West Leicestershire and the English Civil Wars’ that the group had collectively rejected. Most of the titles on the spines were of recent memory, having been flicked through and tossed aside up to three hours ago; Amy’s attention kept getting silently called over to other things in the library: a child babbling at it’s mother reading it a picture book, fingers in its mouth making wet noises that Amy would rather weren’t audible; long-dried chewing gum flattened into the carpet; the scorching vibrancy of the secretary’s yellow loafers; the warm, birch-toned wood of the door down into the archive and the shine on the laminated sign stuck to the front of it. She looked back to the shelf to see if her finger had guided itself to something of use. She swapped the books around, reading the cover of the new volume: ‘Elmsbury-Gallows: A Town of Tragedy, 1601-1701’. At least it was one they hadn’t read yet.

“This any good?” she tossed the book at Trent, though overestimated her range as it slid across the floor nearly knocking into his half-empty cup, risking spilling it onto their shared textbook. He picked the book up, absently examining the cover before flicking through to the index. None of them were sure as to what he was looking for. After a moment, his finger ceased its steady trail down the page, “Have we looked into Matilda Borthwick yet?”

“Uh, no- not in depth anyway,” Amy sat back down on her beanbag, “nothing really goes into detail about her- mostly just rehashing the info-plaques at the Crypt and, like, a timeline mentioning her as one of the women killed in the witch trials.”

Trent was furiously looking for the page, “yeah, well there’s a whole chapter in this about her apparently,” he stopped, and started to skim the pages as he spoke, “there was this big ass list under her name in the index.”

“Ooh, nice,” Kat leaned forward, “you think we’ll get better marks for more niche topics?”

“If we can find primary sources for them, then yeah,” Trent was still reading, his thumb tucked between his top teeth and bottom lip, “speaking of—” he turned the book around, his finger resting on the page, holding it open, “—look.”

***

Excerpt from a letter from Jack Newbridge, townsperson and local butcher, to Matthew Hopkins, witchfinder general, from October 1645; P.2, L.13:

“[…] it is of mine own firmest believe that the wych of the village is one Matilda Borthwicke. It is she who doest headed the daemonic covenne which hast terroris’d our people and taketh our childrenn. She reads from her bookes of dark magick and Satanic sciences and hast brought down upon us the Deere Mann, a daemon of the pitt, to snatche up our young to feed to its Master.”

This letter has been preserved in Elmsbury-Gallows Library Archive since its construction in1994.

***

              “Spooky,” Kat had found a Freddo in the bottom of their bag and had started absently eating it, “never heard of her using ‘Satanic books’ before.”

“I guess the town was up in a huff about her being a woman who could do, like, basic addition,” Amy looked back at the page, “what’s a ‘Deer Man?’”

Trent shrugged, “I dunno, maybe like a local myth or something.”

“I think it’s a demon.” Kat’s eyes had that signature look in them, “it says right there- I dunno if it’s a synonym or whatever, but maybe he means, like, a goat’s head, not a deer,” their friends looked at them a little absently, “y’know… demons, goat heads; it makes sense.”

A moment. Kat interrupted the silence, “We’ve never done a demon hunt before.”

Another moment, this one a little thicker.

“It says they’ve got it in the archive.” Amy glanced at Trent; his eyes were glinting slightly: two small white rectangles in them from the windows up on the wall, “you reckon they’d let us look at it?”

He paused for a moment before speaking, “maybe, we’d have to ask one of the Archival Staff to let us down there- I dunno if they’ll take ‘we want this historical artefact for a half-term homework task’ as valid cause though.”

Kat shrugged, “worth a shot though, right?”

“I dunno,” Trent muttered, “this all feels like a little much for just an assignment.”

There was a long moment between them then; a mutual consideration of if all this trouble would be worth it for, what, five percent of their grade? But there was something else here. As much as they would reiterate it to each other and to themselves, this didn’t feel like it was for the actual assignment; it was more like they were becoming hobbyists.

“If you think it’s too much, we can just use the quote from the book and be done with it,” Kat offered, Amy wanted to butt in and tell them not to back down. Very lightly, almost imperceptibly, Trent shook his head and his two friends felt relief.

The three glanced behind them at the man with the yellow shoes tapping away at his computer behind the foyer desk. A small voice chirped up at the back of Amy’s head: finally, real history.

***

“I’m sorry you three, the Archive is off-limits to anybody who isn’t authorized staff,” he waved a hand in the direction of the sign on the door, sighing irritably, “as stated.”

“Not even if we go down with authorized supervision?” Trent still had the book clutched in his hand, finger marking the page they were on. The man with the yellow loafers sighed, “Uh, I can ask around if that helps?” he seemed a little perked up at the idea of a break from his monotonous typing, “you just wait here.” He moved himself out of his chair with a grunt and slipped quickly through the archive door. Before it swung shut, Amy saw the thin corridor leading over to the staffroom on one side of the hallway, and a locked door with a small plaque opposite it sitting closed. A beckoning seemed to thrum off it, as if it were coaxing her to open it. The main door clicked shut, the reappearance of the ‘no entry’ sign cutting off the sensation.

“I’ll wait here, you guys go look up the archival staff records on one of the computers.” Trent said in a half-whisper, a little firmer than he usually was.

“Why do we need to do that?”

He shrugged the change in character off, “I-I dunno, maybe we’ll find an ‘in’ just in case we’re not allowed down there- someone who would let us look regardless like, uhh…” he trailed off as he racked his brains, “… like someone who used to go to Elmsbury Secondary or something.”

There was that look again, that glint. Amy turned to Kat in silent conference. There was a small spark in their eyes too, and Amy was a little more than certain that if she passed a window and caught her reflection, she’d see it glowing in her as well. She had definitely started to feel it, “alright, we’ll have a look.”

              The computer’s lively startup jingle cut through the murmur of the library, attracting a few glances as Kat fumbled for the volume button; Trent turned around and smirked at them from the foyer, peeking through a few shelves and mouthing what the fuck? before turning back to the desk and patiently waiting. Kat sat down in the chair in front of the screen and clicked on the folder labelled ‘Records for Public’. There were only two widgets in the folder: one for the library records and one for the archive; Kat was now following the trail. The widget opened into a grey column with two subfolders:

Archival Records

Archival Staff Records

Kat clicked on Archival Staff Records.

Archival Staff Records

Archival Staff Members 1994-2000

Archival Staff Members 2001-2007

Archival Staff Members 2008-2014

“Should we check all of them or just the most recent one?”

Kat turned around to answer Amy’s question, “best to go through all, I think,” they turned back to the screen, the glow illuminating their face in white, “just to be sure, but we’ll start with the most recent.”

Archival Staff Records

Archival Staff Members 1994-2000

Archival Staff Members 2001-2007

Archival Staff Members 2008-2014

Photos and Information

Kat opened the first folder. Another column opened and a long tower of small, pixelated photos stared back at the two from the screen, their names in bold underneath them, next to that was the date they had been hired as staff; in smaller font underneath that listed their qualifications, role, and email address. None of the faces were familiar to Kat or Amy, so they relented to look in the next folder down, grimacing a little as their chances of finding someone who they knew could help them seemingly diminished. The folder opened and Kat began to scroll. None of the most recent staff members were listed, a whole new selection of a dozen or so faces smiling back at them through the screen- their dress sense a little more vintage. Kat stopped. Nestled together at the bottom of the page were two icons: two names.

Rev. James Fairfax, hired 14/10/03.

Neil Holly, hired 20/10/03.

“Professor Holly worked here?”

“I mean, yeah clearly- it makes sense though doesn’t it?” Kat hadn’t looked away from the screen, “him being a history teacher and all.”

“Damn, how old would he have been in the early 2000s?”

“Man, I dunno, he looks like a teenager in this photo or maybe early twenties?” Kat still didn’t look away, “and there’s Jim the Vicar,” they laughed a little, “back when he had all his hair.”

“Dreadful trim.” Amy remarked.

“Probably why it started falling out- it was an affront to God.” Kat laughed, “so there’s two people we could ask.”

“One,” Amy corrected them, “we are not asking Jim the Vicar anything- I don’t like the way he looks at me.”

“Me neither, I was kinda hoping you’d say that,” Kat murmured. Something else caught their eye, “hey look there’s a Paint function! You reckon there’s like old drawings from the nineties in here?” they had already clicked on the widget, revealing an empty canvas.

“I think to see things people have already drawn you need to go into the folder for it.” Amy tried to sound like she knew more about computers than she actually did.

“Oh yeah- look, here!” Kat had started to scroll through a sea of ‘hi!’s; smiley faces; and many, many, crudely-drawn penises.

“Wait go back up a sec.”

Kat obliged, landing on a small folder from 9th January 2004. When it was clicked open, it revealed an 8-bit black Ouroboros circling around what looked like an eye.

“That’s either really cool or really creepy,” Kat tried to sound as upbeat as they had been a moment ago, “technology is ever-changing, but goth is forever.” Amy cringed slightly at their friend’s comment, lovingly though, but the feeling quickly subsided as she started to take in the illustration. It wasn’t badly-drawn, but the penmanship wasn’t perfect, a few pixels wobbled out of place and the medium was all too simplistic for it to be a very detailed design. It had a dizzying quality, however, as if staring into a rotating spiral. Amy at one point thought it might be an animation, but every time she glanced back at the image, the head of the snake was always where it had been when she first looked at it.

“Hey!” Trent’s voice prompted Kat to reflexively exit the folder and turn off the computer. Amy blinked at her reflection on the cooling screen.

“What’s up?”

“Bad news,” he sighed, “he says we’re not allowed in.” he looked between his two friends, “what about you guys? You find anything?”

Kat sat back in the chair, a smile forming on their face, “yup- Professor Holly used to work here.”

“Oh perfect.”  Trent let out a short breath of relief, “we can just ask him to let us in then.”

“Will he even have a key anymore?”

Trent shrugged, “I dunno- worth a try though, right? And if nothing works then we can just…” he pushed the next words out, “…give up on it, I guess.”

Amy didn’t like the sound of that idea.

“Well, we can’t show up to his house,” Kat rubbed their chin a little, “and we can’t send him a message on school email because that’ll get tracked immediately.”

“His old email’s listed on the Archival Staff Record,” Amy offered, “we could try that instead.”

“Will it even still be active? It’s from, like, 2003.”

Amy looked between her two friends, “Like Trent said, worth a try, in’t it?”

***

>[email protected]

              >To: [email protected]

>Subject: Archive Access

Hi sir, we need your help with something, sorry for not contacting you on school email but we don’t want to risk getting flagged (you’ll see why in a minute).

Whilst doing research at the library today we did some digging and found out a primary source we want to use as reference in the research task is stored in the library archive. We looked into the archival staff records and saw you were listed as a staff member starting in 2003, so wanted to ask if you could maybe lend us the key to get into the archive? It’s a lot to ask and it’s okay if it breaches a boundary but it would mean a lot if we could do some proper historian work on this homework task.

From:

Amy Cokes, Kat Burton, Trent Lewis-Scott

***

>[email protected]

              >Replying to: [email protected]

>Subject: Archive Access

Hello Amy, Kat, and Trent

Thank you for asking first- I had forgotten this email address even existed!

I appreciate your dedication to the project, and would love to help out, however this may be a little far for a half-term homework task? I resigned my post at the Library in 2008, though I cannot remember if I still have the key into the Archive, let alone if I will still be granted access. I can try to ask, though don’t be disappointed if nothing comes up.

-Prof.Holly

***

>[email protected]

              >Replying to: [email protected]

>Subject: Archive Access

Okay, we’d love you to look into it. We know it’s a little much for a half term research project but we are honestly kind of invested in the research and would love to try out some more practical forms of learning.

From:

Amy, Kat, and Trent

***

>[email protected]

              >Replying to: [email protected]

>Subject: Archival Access

Hi all,

Have managed to convince Allan at the desk, he says I can grant access so long as he and I supervise, and only for fifteen minutes- I’m sure that’s plenty of time to simply photograph a source. I will be at the library tomorrow morning at 10:00am. Very happy that you are taking the course so seriously!

-Prof.Holly

***

              The part about only being allowed fifteen minutes was a lie: in that it was Neil’s idea, not Allan at the desk’s. This thirst for knowledge was only slightly out-of-character for his three students, however that was certainly enough for him to become apprehensive over what it might mean. He had told himself again and again that he was paranoid and overreacting, that he should be far more pleased than he found himself to be that Amy, Kat, and Trent were so invested in their course. At least his supervision was compulsory. Neil felt himself relax a little at his control over this situation: at least now he could prevent their eyes from wandering towards anything they were better off not knowing; the project brief didn’t even cover the area of town history that would be of main concern, though even a mention of Matilda Bothwick could certainly be enough to trip oneself into the rabbit hole, in theory. If that were the case, they would already be too far gone.

He shook the thought off, trying hard to ignore the clinging feeling of familiarity which hung over the whole situation: like a wound reopening; this scab that had been so tempting to just peel off all these years was finally getting scratched again as blood oozed in spots around its edges. Grotesque, painful, but so impossible to look away from. So impossible to stop. Just like the old days.

***

              Kat waved at Neil from the spot that they were stood with their friends outside the doors into the library. Amy and Trent had huddled next to them, keeping close, and the three smiled awkwardly at their teacher as he approached them from across the car park, wrapping his cardigan tightly over his chest to block out the biting October cold. He smiled timidly, waving a hand with a small brass key looped around his ring finger, presumably his old key into the Archive; upon seeing the white of the clouds reflecting in the rose-toned metal, Kat felt a leap of anticipation trying to escape their chest.

“So only fifteen minutes, alright?” Allan from the desk walked the four of them down the hallway towards a very ordinary-looking varnished wooden door on the right-hand side. The lights overhead were old filament lamps, fizzing softly like hives of sleeping bees, casting a honey-coloured glow in the reflection of the little plaque on the archive door, and down onto the features of Kat’s friends; determined and, when inspected even more closely, hungry. It was warmer in this hallway than in the library itself, the walls close and yellow, encroaching on both sides: a slowly closing jaw.

Kat flinched a little at the metallic rattle of the keys turning in the lock- it was a little strange that Professor Holly had brought his own set since it was Allan who was letting them in; they assumed the history teacher had brought them along to hand back in to the library after forgetting to all these years.

The door swung open, revealing worn wooden steps leading down towards a vanta-black rectangle at the bottom of them. Allan tugged the pull switch with a click that tumbled down towards the archive, and the lights downstairs flickered on.

#a short chapter this time before the absolute lore-heavy behemoths that will be chapters 5 and 6 #hope you enjoy #horror #horror writing #internet horror #short horror story #creepypasta #original horror story #original story #oc #original character

[picklebunbun]

"reflecting through the heart of being respectful”

✿

----------------- 𖦹᯾ꕥ᯾𖦹----------------

hc or oneshot/series?: oneshot

(oc + oc) Angelo + Oliver

genre: angst and fluff

romantic/platonic?: platonic but can be read as romantic

fandom: South Park

cw: prostitution {VERY VERY suggestive but that was obvious}

{angel's side note🪽: another oc x oc!! My bestfriend and my oc are the main characters in this story, they also chose the title and song. Oliver has a bit of a crush on Angelo in here but it's honestly your choice if you want Angelo to reciprocate his feelings}

~~~

bold: yelling, italics: thinking

Angelo is pink, Oliver is blue

If you told Angelo that he would sleep with boys his age to get cash, he’d laugh nervously and inch away from you, but this was kind of his thing now. Turns out when you’re a 17 year old with a part time minimum wage job, it’s difficult to actually pay your rent. Really, the only way to gain money quickly was sleeping around for some extra money

Somehow, Oliver found out after literally two sessions later. He decided to offer up help, like giving aftercare and counting money. Angelo immediately say yes, apparently, cleaning up with sore legs is an extremely difficult task (and also because Angelo’s situation could be used as blackmail and he really didn’t want to hear that he was a ginormous whore from everyone)

This is where Angelo was now, leading a random guy who paid to a hotel room. Grabbing his hand and the customer following him from behind {and looking and his behind}. Oliver was next to the hotel room door, leaning on the wall, waiting for Angelo to be with the client already.

“would you be so kind to makes sure that no one enters?”

“of course! No problem”

“I am beyond grateful to you”

Oliver blushed a dusty red, his lips curled up into a little smile. Angelo softly smiled back but then the client slapped Angelo’s ass making his smile falter and blushed a bright red. Oliver felt a twinge of jealousy, giving the death stare to the guy, the fact that he could touch him so nonchalantly made him so angry. Angelo pushed the guy into the room and closed the door

Not even four seconds passed and there was already a loud banging coming from inside the room, along with audible moaning as well. Oliver was quick to block his ears, his eyes were wide like he’d seen a ghost, but his face was a different story, it was an apple red color. It definitely felt awkward just standing there in place while his friend was getting his back broken, but really, he couldn’t do anything else but listen to music to drown out the noise

-💟timeskip💟-

It was a long 30 minutes, It was a long 30 minutes, the guy exited the room, paying Oliver. He was completely shirtless and sticky from sweat {and another substance 🤭🤭}. The door was wide open, Angelo’s lower half was barely covering anything but at the same time kind of covering everything. Oliver turned red from the sight, sweat beads were visible on Angelo’s thighs, his shoulders and knees were a light pink. His hands helped him sit up, it was definitely one of the lewdest sights that Oliver has seen {and might he say that he looked really good- but Oliver still remains RESPECTFUL}

“HOLY!- OMG IM SO SORRY- UH-HERE!”

Oliver covered his eyes, not daring to even glance at Angelo. Although, it was a little difficult to grab an extra blanket for Angelo to cover himself up more. Honestly, he didn’t think it was such a big deal, but mostly because he was always exposed to boys 24/7. Nonetheless, he covered himself with the blanket anyways

“calm yourselt down, it's barely exposing anything”

“Yeah...but too me I find it disrespectful and I want you to be comfortable whenever you have the need to show any type of parts in your body, believe me I would like to think it's okay and not be weirded out like as if I'm intruding in someone's personal space while I just stand there and do nothing..... really want you to be very much comfortable to show me anything but aside from how want to be respectful too you, I really do appreciate if you put some clothes on....”

Angelo stared at him, he hasn’t heard anything like that in a while. It sure did make him tear up, countless times, guys never seemed to have the decency to preform after-care. It was really nice to hear something like that, especially from someone he cared about. This huge wave of relief was inside him, maybe it was because he’d been waiting for someone to say that, or maybe because it felt good to know that someone cared about him and didn’t think he was some cheap-whore. Angelo let out a whimper, he felt like sobbing right then and there but wanted to save face in-front of Oliver cause honestly, him being naked under the covers was embarrassing enough

“u-uh tha… thank you… that means- tha- that means a lot… you are… very co-considerate on how I… feel”

His voice sounded wobbly, Angelo sniffled. He brought a hand to his own face to cover his wet eyes. Oliver was panicking a little, did I say something wrong?!

“oh my god! Ar- are you okay?!”

Oliver rushed over to check up on his friend, he was very close, but didn’t really know what to do

“I- I’m fine… just that.. no one asks.. how I feel..”

“d.. do you want me to get your clothes?”

Angelo nods. After seeing him confirm, Oliver grabbed his clothes that were carelessly tossed from the previous guy

“do you uhm.. want me to put them on for you..?”

Oliver felt his face getting hot, put it on for him? That’s so weird, why did you say that, Oliver?! Although Oliver thought that the question was weird, Angelo seemed to not mind at all. In fact, he smiled at him

“no.. but, I request that you look away while I put on my clothes”

“O-OH! Y-yeah! Of course!”

Oliver’s face heated up from how awkward he was acting, mentally cursing himself out for being so weird around Angelo. There was a lot of fabric-on-skin shuffling being heard from behind Olivers back. Angelo was changing while sitting on the bed since his legs felt so sore, along with his back but mostly his legs

“I’m finished- WOAH!”

Angelo facepalmed himself in his mind for forgetting that he really couldn’t walk yet. His legs basically felt like jelly as he stood up, and just like jelly, they gave themselves out and let him fall. He landed on his knees which just made his legs basically scream from the added pain. Oliver quickly turned around from the loud thud to be met with Angelo on the ground, in pain, and quickly went to his aid

“omg! Are you okay?!”

“yeah! yeah-.. just my legs is all..!”

Angelo tried to get up again with the support of the bed, but before his thighs even left the flood, Oliver picked him up in a bridal-style position

“don’t even try to get up! You’ll fall again! .. anyways, do you want something to drink?”

“no! no, it’s fine. You’ve actually been such big help, I don’t have any idea how to even re-pay you..”

“it’s okay! You don’t even have to.. you deserve being cared for like this, I mean putting your body to work everyday is dangerous, you could get an STD or get seriously hurt by some of these guys. You worry me, Angelo.. I just want you to be careful..”

“you don’t have to worry, I do background checks on them, perks of an angel after all”

Angelo giggles softly, but that action was shut down as soon as there was a sharp pain in his back

“ow.. my back is really sore..”

“ah hold on, let me help you”

Oliver sat Angelo down, he had his backside facing him. His hand started doing circular motions on Angelo’s shoulder blades

“y-you really don’t have to-“

“you need to understand that having a broken back while nobody takes care of you is going to end up hurting even more, so please….I insist..”

Angelo started to cry again, he let out little sniffles here and there until he really couldn’t contain his weeping. The way he jolted every time he tried to suck in a cry was a pretty obvious give-away

“what happened?! Did I do something wrong?!”

“it’s nothing! j-just continue… what you’re doing! I’m- I’m fine…”

Finally, Angelo collected himself and calmed himself down. The massage was actually pretty relaxing, it made Angelo groan each time Oliver kneaded the part it hurt. His pain started to lower itself down, so that was a good thing. The atmosphere was pretty depressing, Angelo didn’t know how long he could keep up this job

“take some time to breath and take a break okay?... you're going to need it if you keep putting your body to work like this...”

“it’s fine, my body regenerates faster than a normal human”

That was a lie, and Oliver knew it was too, but it was hard to point it out, even when Angelo denies to ask for help

“really? I just feel like you’re just saying that..”

“I swear I’m telling the truth”

“… if you say so..”

It felt like hours since Oliver started, but the massage finally came to an end. It was time to leave for the day, but Angelo would have to start this whole process all over again tomorrow. He sighed, it was really tiring, that was his 3rd person for the day, but thank god that it was his final one

“do you want to get some ice cream?”

Angelo smiled

“sure..”

~~~

#SoundCloud #south park #oc x oc #oc #ocs #fanfic #angst #angst with a happy ending

[grex-statera]

Chapter 8: Soft Rain - Spring, Year 1

Lewis: You should expand your horizons, Elliot. I mean, shipping crops IS good but imagine how well your farm could do if you added animal produce and artisan goods to your exports.

Lewis' words were running over Elliot's head. He was right, though. She should expand her horizons.

The following day after the Flower Dance, Elliot had been busy focusing on her farm and it's performance. She thought she'd made good progress on her combat abilities so she took a break from going to the mines for now.

Various documents and lists littered Ellie's table. Her laptop opened on a spreadsheet monitoring her finances.

Elliot: Hmm. Alright, let's get a coop then.

+++++

It was a rainy afternoon when Ellie started walking to Robin's.

Robin: Oh no! You're soaked.

Ellie: Ah, sorry 'bout your floor, Robin.

Robin: No worries, Ellie. I'll just mop that later. How can I help you?

Ellie and Robin discussed the terms and process of getting a coop.

Robin: Alright, I'll get started on your new coop first thing tomorrow.

Ellie: Thank you, Robin. Would you like to have breakfast together then?

Robin: Ooooh farm fresh ingredients? Sign me up!

+++++

Ellie closed the door behind her and opened her umbrella.

Seb: You gettin'a new coop?

Ellie jumped.

Ellie: Jeez, Seb!

Sebastian laughed. He was leaning on a wall, smoking.

Seb: Sorry... You're so jumpy!

Ellie: I didn't even know you were there!

Seb: Hah, yeah I went out while you and mom were talking.

Ellie: Stop sneaking up on me!

Sebastian laughed again. He threw his cigarette on the ground and stomped on it, putting it out.

Ellie frowned.

Ellie: Man, could you stop that?

Seb: I thought you didn't like the smell?

Ellie: Yeah, but I meant littering, also.

Seb: Alright, I'll try. Headed home?

Ellie thought about what Elliott told her the night of the Flower Dance.

Elliott: Maybe you could look at my drafts and give me feedback...

Ellie: Ehhhh. Think I'm going to the beach for a bit.

Seb: Oh? I'm going there too, actually.

Ellie: Really? Didn't know you liked going there.

Seb: Yeahhh, I only go there when it's raining. Not a big fan of the sun.

Ellie: Same! Rain is so nice, don't you think? Come on, then.

Sebastian smiled and opened his own umbrella.

Seb: So, uh. Whatcha doin' there?

Ellie: Think I'm gonna visit my friend, Elliott.

Seb: I see. The writer, right?

Ellie: Mhm.

Seb: You like books then?

Ellie: Yeah, I guess. I don't read very often, though. Just when my friends recommend me something good.

Seb: Cool. What genres do you like?

Ellie: Hmmm, lemme think... Sci-fi, fantasy, mystery and horror, maybe. Sometimes I read classics, but never romance. Not really my thing.

Seb: That's nice. I like basically the same genres but I never do classics. I respect a good romance, though.

Ellie chuckled.

Ellie: Really? Didn't expect that from you, to be quite honest.

Seb: Hah, guess I don't look the part. You also into comic books?

Ellie: Yeah! Do you know Cave Saga X? One of my friends absolutely love that series.

Seb: Yeah! Have you caught up with the new volume yet? I wont spoil it for you, but oh man...

The two of them spent the entire walk chatting with each other with a lot of comfortable silence in between. A few more paces and they were nearing the beach.

Ellie: Oh man, it's cold. What do you usually do here?

Seb: Me? I guess I just hang out by the docks and enjoy the view. The sound of rain on the ocean's very soothing.

Ellie: Hmm, yeah that sounds quite nice.

Seb: ...If you want to, I guess we can hang out here sometime.

Ellie: Sure. I'll be quiet so I don't ruin your drift.

Sebastian chuckled.

Seb: Alright, deal.

They parted ways near the shore.

+++++

Ellie knocked on Elliott's door.

Elliott: Ellie! It's so wonderful to see you!

Ellie: Hi, sorry. I hope you don't mind my boots.

Elliott: Not to worry. I haven't really cleaned my cabin thoroughly anyway. Please, make yourself at home.

Ellie tried her best to remove as much sand and mud from her boots then made her way to Elliott's desk.

Elliott: Would you like something to drink? Coffee or tea, perhaps?

Ellie: I'd like some coffee, please.

Elliott: Coming right up.

Elliott's desk was littered with books and paper. It was quite a mess. A draft was sitting in the middle.

Ellie: Do you have a story in mind right now?

Elliott walked over to Ellie after setting the kettle on his stove. He pulled out a chair for Ellie to sit on, then sat on his own chair.

Elliott, sighing: To be completely honest, Elliot, I cannot decide on what genre I would like my novel to take on. I have characters and arcs in mind but I cannot seem to find a solid setting for them. Say, do you have any suggestions for me?

Ellie thought for a bit.

Ellie: Hmm. You know, Elliott, I'm gonna be honest with you. You seem like such a romantic guy, so I think if you decide to write a romance novel, you would be great at it. Um, I don't like the genre, though, so my second suggestion would be... Mystery? Maybe?

Elliott blushed.

Elliott: Well, I'm quite flattered with your words, Ellie. I'll keep them in mind.

Elliott went over the characters and plot points he had in mind with Ellie. Going over what could go together, which areas need more structure and the like. After a few minutes, the kettle screeches.

Elliott: Oh! Perfect timing.

Elliott walks over to his small kitchen and makes two glasses of coffee. He hands one to Ellie and takes a sip from his own cup.

Elliott: Thank you for the company, Ellie. It was such a lovely surprise to have you here on such a dreary day.

Ellie: You're welcome, Elliott. I hope you finish your novel soon.

Elliott smiled at her and opened a window.

Elliott: Ah, would you look at that. The rain has finally stopped.

He leaned on the window pane, sipping his coffee. Ellie walked over to Elliott to admire the scenery outside.

Elliott: Ah, Ellie. You must know what's bothering my dear companion rose over here, yes? I think it may be wilting under my care.

Ellie took a good look at the rose.

Ellie: You're not watering her with seawater, aren't you?

#stardew valley #stardew fanfic #stardew au

[slasherhaven]

How would slashers react, when their s/o climbs on them (or hug them very tightly) in the middle of the night, because she has terrible nightmare? I mean in their earlier relationship, when they're not used to snuggling neither sleeping so close to each other yet. Thank you :) btw your writing is amazing, I can read the hc and stories over and over and it always makes my day ♥

The Slashers reacting to their s/o (or future s/o) coming to them for comfort after a nightmare:

Thomas Hewitt 

You had been staying with the Hewitt family for a little while now. You had become a member of the family and you had grown closer to Thomas than anyone else. You had been given your own bedroom and that was something you were grateful for.

You and Thomas really had become close and he had really started to relax around you.

You woke up from a nightmare, gasping and breathing heavily, quickly switching a light on.

You were shaken and couldn’t get back to sleep, you even felt uncomfortable just sitting on your own. And there was only one person you could go to.

You wandered out of your bedroom and over to Thomas’ room, knocking on the door. You didn’t want to just barge in on him.

You knocked again and waited when you heard movement from inside the room. It wasn’t long until the door opened, revealing Thomas.

“I’m sorry for waking you up” you apologised but he shook his head, silently assuring you that it was okay. “I had a nightmare and...I don’t want to be alone, I’m kinda freaked out, could I stay with you tonight?”

Thomas would pause for a moment, considering your request, before finally nodding. You looked shaken and a little embarrassed, and he wanted to help you, he just couldn’t turn you away.

He let you in, closing the door behind you. He was a little awkward as you both got onto the bed and got comfortable. 

But you noticed that he was just laying on his back, with his mask on.

“You can take the mask off, I promise I won’t look” you assured him.

Thomas was a little reluctant but believed that you wouldn’t lie and figured that the light was off so the room wasn’t well lit. So, he removed the mask, placing it on the bedside table before settling back down.

You kept your promise, making sure not to look at his face, but you still moved closer to him. 

“Thanks Tommy” you rested your head on his chest, draping an arm over his waist.

Thomas is a surprised by your actions but pretty much just melts, wrapping an arm around you in the hopes of making you feel safer.

Michael Myers

You and Michael had technically been sharing a bed for a while but for the longest time you never even saw him sleep. Once he became more comfortable with you, you’d catch him sleeping for short periods of time in your bed. And finally the two of you would share the bed at the same time.

Still, sharing a bed didn’t mean you were cuddling at night. The two of you tended to stay to your sides of the bed and he would be gone in the morning since he usually woke up much earlier than you, usually sleeping less that you do.

So, when you woke up from a nightmare, you just wanted to feel safe and comforted but weren’t sure how Michael would respond to that. 

When you woke up, you jolted and that woke him up (always on edge and still a relatively light sleeper) but he didn’t react, knowing it was just you.

You thought he was still asleep but he was completely aware of you shifting closer and cautiously tucking yourself under his arm.

He honestly isn’t sure how to react but he doesn’t stop you. He knows it was a nightmare because of how you woke up and you’re not doing any harm, so he allows it...

You slowly settle and relax, resting your head against his chest and draping your arm over his chest. 

Michael will be awake until you’ve fallen asleep again, feeling comfortable and safe being so close to him. Then he’ll finally fall back to sleep.

You’ll wake up the next morning to find one of Michael’s arms casually but protectively wrapped around you. He’s not good intimacy but he is protective.

Jason Voorhees

Jason is very sweet and very cautious about making you uncomfortable. He fully lets you sleep on the bed while offering to sleep elsewhere. You had tried to assure him that you really didn’t mind and that it was his bed, if he wasn’t comfortable you would sleep on the couch. But Jason insisted.

So, when you woke up from a nightmare, you were alone and freaked out.

You knew where Jason would be and you knew that just having him around would make you feel better, he always made you feel safe.

So you didn’t think much of it when you climbed out of the bed and searched the cabin for Jason, finding him in the living room, sleeping on the couch. You hated that he felt the need to sleep out here in his own home.

“Jason?” you walked over to stand by his side, the gentle call of his name being enough to wake him. 

When he saw you, he sat up in a slightly panic, figuring that something must be wrong and worrying about whether you were okay or not. Especially since you looked a little shaken.

“I, uh, I had a nightmare and I can’t sleep...can you just come and lay with me?” you asked but Jason didn’t response instantly, he just looked at you like he was trying to come up with an answer. “Please?” and that was all it took.

You looked shaken and clearly had been tearing up a little, so he knew that he couldn’t just leave you.

He would nod and stand, following you back to the bedroom.

You got on the bed first, patting the space beside you to encourage him to join you, and he did. 

Jason would lay beside you but not purposely touch you, still just thinking he was being respectful. 

So you were the one to move closer, happily making yourself comfortable against his chest. 

Jason is just a little flustered by finding himself cuddling with you, but he would wrap his arm around you, maybe even stroke your hair to comfort you.

You’ll fall asleep again pretty quick but Jason would be up for a little while, getting used to the feeling of holding you and relaxing. Finally he would fall asleep, and he would sleep well with you in his arms.

Brahms Heelshire 

Despite all of Brahms’ wishes, the two of you weren’t sharing a bed on a nightly basis. Cuddling wasn’t completely out of the question, you would hold him when he needed to comfort him but that was where it ended.

But when you woke up from a nightmare, you didn’t want to be alone and you knew that Brahms wouldn’t have a problem with that. So, you didn’t really hesitate before heading for his room.

He didn’t wake up when you entered his room, closing the door behind you.

“Brahms?” you asked, making him stir. “Brahms?” you repeated, moving closer to his bed.

This time he woke up, sitting up when he saw you standing beside his bed.

“Sorry, I uh...I had a bad dream and can’t get back to sleep, do you mind if I just stay with you?” you explained yourself.

It was a little strange, it felt like the roles had been reversed to an extent. Normally you would comfort him and now you were going to him for comfort.

Brahms nodded instantly, moving over to give you enough room to lay down.

You lay down beside him and pulled the sheets over your body. As you lay down, Brahms would look at you questioningly, as if waiting for some sort of reassurance.

With some gentle encouragement from you, he will lay down beside you, happily pulling you into his arms to hold and comfort you. He just wanted to make sure he wasn’t getting ahead of himself, restraining himself for once.

But once he has you in his arms, he’s holding you close and not letting you go, nuzzling his face into your hair.

He’ll whisper some gentle reassurances, telling you that it’s okay and that he’s here for you now.

His hold is comforting and you quickly find yourself relaxing in his embrace and holding him in return. 

The two of you are falling asleep again before you know it.

Bo Sinclair 

You had been staying in Ambrose for a while now, the truth about the town beginning to feel normal to you. You had been staying with the twins, in a spare bedroom that they had.

When you first arrived in Ambrose you had quite frequent nightmares, understandably. But things had changed, you were more comfortable and even happy in the little town and you had become friends with the brothers, even becoming close to Bo.

It had been a long time since your last nightmare so this one was a surprise and affected you more than you would have expected a nightmare to do. You knew there was no way you could get to sleep, barely even wanting to close your eyes again, feeling paranoid and unsafe even if you knew nothing was different from any other day.

You just didn’t want to be alone, so you had to make a choice. Did you seek out Bo or Vincent? While you knew Vincent was a sweetheart, it was Bo that you had developed a better connection with.

So you climbed out of them and wandered down the hallway until you you came to Bo’s door, taking a breath before letting yourself in. 

The room was dark but you could see well enough, including where Bo slept on his bed.

Bo had technically invited you into his bed multiple times but you were pretty sure he had just been trying to get under your skin, and you had always turned him down.

You padded over to his bed, truly not knowing how he would react to you coming to him like this for comfort.

You weren’t sure whether you should wake him up or not, you didn’t need to be mocked for having nightmares.

But he woke up pretty quick when you approached the bed.

“Been dreaming about me?” he teased, a smirk on his face, assuming you had come to his room for very different reason

“Shut up. I had a bad dream” you confessed, face red with embarrassment.

He’s mostly confused but rolls his eyes at you, muttering before going to turn around to sleep.

“Bo?” you got his attention again. “Do you think you could...” of all the people to be asking for comfort, you knew Bo was the most like to scoff and tell you to get out. 

He got the idea of what you were trying to ask and sighed.

“Come on then” he mumbled, acting disinterested as he lifted the blanket, inviting you in. You gave him a small smile before climbing onto the bed.

Bo assumed you would keep to yourself but he was wrong, and he was surprised when you shifted closer and wrapped your arms around him. 

He could tell that you were still shaken by whatever your dream was and he was too tired to deal with it in any other way, so he just gave up and wrapped his arm around you, letting you cuddle up more against him.

“Not a fucking word about this to anyone” he muttered, to which you nodded, suddenly feeling safe and comfortable enough to fall back to sleep.

Yeah, he’s absolutely going to tease you about this for a while.

Vincent Sinclair

Since you were staying in Ambrose, you needed a place to sleep. Vincent had gone out of his way to tidy up a spare room for you, which you greatly appreciated. 

You liked having your space and some privacy, even if you enjoyed spending most of your days with Vincent, finding his presence calming.

When you woke up in a dark room from a terrible nightmare, you felt alone and unsettled. You just knew you couldn’t go back to sleep, images of your nightmare flashing in your mind whenever you closed your eyes.

You didn’t even question it, Vincent calmed you, so you headed for his room.

Even in your shaken state, you respected his boundaries, so you didn’t turn on any lights in his room, so that you wouldn’t be able to make out the features of his face.

You woke him up gently, calming him when he startled slightly.

“I, uh, I had nightmare and I don’t want to be alone. Could I just stay here for the night?” 

Vincent’s hair fell over his face, hiding the scarring but leaving the unharmed half of his face slightly visible in the dark room. He paused for a moment, thinking about his answer, but nodded.

You seemed upset and he didn’t like that, he wanted to help.

He lets you climb into bed but turns away from you, so that you wouldn’t see his face. Poor guy thinks it would only scare you more.

You and Vincent had been growing very close so you didn’t think it was too weird to shift closer, wrapping your arm around his waist as you rested your head against his back.

He tensed for a moment before relaxing, feeling comfortable like this.

When you woke up the next morning, you would find yourself in a reversed position. Vincent laying beside you, his chest against your back and his arm around your waist.

Lester Sinclair

Since your stay in Ambrose, you had moved into Lester’s home. Mostly because you and Lester got along so well and Bo thought it would be better if you weren’t in town all the time, especially when ‘visitors’ came by. Lester wasn’t sure how to go about your new living situations, so he gave you the bedroom and insisted on sleeping on the couch. He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. 

But you finally managed to get him to share the bed with you, feeling bad about making him sleep on the couch in his own home. Plus, you weren’t uncomfortable with sharing a bed with him. Still, he made sure to stay on his side of the bed to avoid any awkwardness. He’s just being sweet.

Lester is a pretty deep sleeper, especially since you moved in and there was another person in the house. So, when when you startled awake and sat up, he just slept through it.

You did feel better than you would have if Lester wasn’t there at all but you just felt like you needed a little more comfort and Lester was a good friend.

But you didn’t want to just wrap yourself around him or anything, so you tried to wake him up.

You gently shook him awake while saying his name. He woke up, assuming something was wrong since you were waking him in the middle of the night, and asked what was wrong when he saw the worried look on your face.

“Everything is fine, don’t worry. I just...I had a nightmare, it really freaked me out and I can’t get back to sleep”

Lester would do anything to make you feel better, and he asks what he can do, but you simply ask him if he can just hold you,

Of course, Lester agrees, nodding and shifting more towards the middle of the bed.

You thanked him quietly as you settled in his arms, wrapping your own around his waist as he held you against his chest.

If Lester hadn’t been half asleep, he probably would have been a little more awkward or nervous, but he was tired and happy with the idea of holding you.

Cuddling becomes a very normal thing between you both after that night, both of you simply enjoying it and finding comfort in it.

Bubba Sawyer

During your stay with the Sawyer, you had definitely grown closer to Bubba than anyone else.

So when you woke up, freaked out after a pretty terrible nightmare, you barely even thought about it before heading towards Bubba’s room. 

You were going to knock on his door but were a little worried about waking one of his brothers or something and making a much bigger scene than you meant too.

But Bubba wouldn’t mind you letting yourself into his room or waking him up.

Bubba would never turn you away, especially when you just had a nightmare or where upset.

So, he’s invite you in, making sure you were alright.

He tries to be respectful of your space when you’re in his bed, but you just wanted to be close to him and be comforted. So, you cuddled up to him.

Bubba would instantly hold you and cuddle you in return, he’s more than happy to do so.

And he gives great cuddles, you’ll be falling back to sleep in no time, with no thoughts of your nightmare.

If you ever need him again for some comfort, you know where to find him!

Billy Lenz

Befriending Billy to the extent you had took some patience but it was fair to say that he now trusted you with everything he had. And you felt a similar way.

It wouldn’t be the first time you had fallen asleep together. You had fallen asleep on the couch together but also on your bed, cuddled up in blankets while watching a movie.

But it wasn’t a nightly thing, Billy still usually stayed in the attic while you slept in your bed.

This night was just the same as usual, except for the horrible nightmare you had. You woke up in a cold sweat and a gasp, breathing heavy.

You took a moment to calm down but you knew that you wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep, not if you were on your own anyway.

But as you gathered your thoughts and looked beside you, you saw Billy curled up on the other side of the bed. He must have had a bad dream too, or just couldn’t sleep. This also wouldn’t be the first time he had done something like this.

You knew to be cautious, not wanting to startle him, but his presence relaxed you a little.

So, you shifted closer, gently resting your arm around his waist and pressing your forehead to his back.

This caught Billy’s attention, gently waking him up. When he felt you against his back, he turned around, making you pull away slightly.

“Sorry...I had a bad dream” you explained yourself with a light blush of embarrassment.

“Me too” Billy mumbled as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer again and making himself comfortable.

You made yourself comfortable again as well, cuddling into him. You comforted him a lot but he was very capable of comforting you as well.

Asa Emory (The Collector) 

Asa isn’t much of a cuddler, so even when you’re laying in his bed after spending the night with him, he’s not really cuddling you. You kind of have to initiate that.

You woke up with a slight jolt, breathing heavy as you sat up, looking around the room to process your surroundings and calm down.

Asa felt you wake up and heard your unsteady breathing, he quickly puts two and two together, assuming you had a nightmare,

He rolled onto his back and looked at you, holding an arm out for you.

You quickly accepted the invitation, moving into his side and laying your head on his chest.

“Bad dream?” he asked lowly, wrapping his arm around your body while closing his eyes again.

You just nodded, nuzzling your face against his chest some more as he tightened his hold on you.

It wasn’t a huge gesture but you did find comfort in it and you always felt safe when he held you, a reminder of what was real and what was only a dream.

Asa could be cold at times but he made you feel safe, and he always came through for you in the end.

Jesse Cromeans (Chromeskull)

Jesse enjoys cuddling more than one might assume, so he is already holding you. An arm around your waist and his chest pressed to your back. He’s not going to have you in his bed and just be ignoring you.

So, when you wake up from the nightmare, you’re instantly soothed just a little bit because of the feeling of being held.

But it wasn’t quite enough. 

You turned around, burying your face in Jesse’s chest and wrapping your arms around his waist, bringing yourself closer to him.

Your sudden movement woke Jesse up, and the way you seemingly clung to him made him a little concern.

He tightened his hold on you a little, stroking his hand over your hair and up and down your back.

He holds you securely, making sure you felt safe and protected.

If you wanted to talk about it, he would listen, but you seemed like you just wanted some comfort.

He would hold you and sooth you until he felt you falling back to sleep, then he would fall back to sleep again.

Otis Driftwood 

You had been ‘staying’ with the Firefly family for a little while now, spared for reasons still confusing to you. Otis had made it extremely clear that you were welcome in his bed anytime but you had never taken him up, for perfectly understandable reasons.

However, it was undeniable that you and Otis had been getting closer during your time with the family. He’d make you smile and laugh, you’d sit and talk, by his standards he was nice to you, and you were growing more comfortable around him.

He was still a flirt, he still offered you a place in his bed, but you never took him up on the offer. Even if your restraints were slowly weakening...

So, the night you woke up from a terrifying nightmare, you knew where you would be welcome.

You had tried to shake off the feeling and just go back to sleep but you couldn’t, you didn’t even want to be alone at the moment. 

And so, you crept out of your room, staying quiet to not wake anyone up, and headed for Otis’ room.

You let yourself in, closing the door behind you, and saw Otis laying on the bed, sprawled out carelessly with a thin blanket lazily draped over his body.

You took a breath, a little nervous to disturb him and being completely sure that he was going to mock you for this, but you walked over to the bed.

“Otis?” he didn’t wake up, leaving you standing beside the bed awkwardly.

You knew he wouldn’t mind you getting into bed with him, so you decided to just got for it. Climbing onto the bed and carefully positioning yourself in the small free space beside him.

You laying beside him seemed to wake him up, though.

He’d squint at you for a moment, processing the fact that you were laying beside him, curled up and facing away from him.

But he isn’t known for being particularly shy, so he’d just turn to face you, wrapping his arm around your waist and pressing his chest to your back.

“Ya could’ve woke me” you could feel him smirking against your neck.

“Just had a bad dream” you mumbled, ready for him to make fun of you.

He was silent for a moment before just sighing. “Alright” was all he said, and he didn’t loosen his hold on you since you didn’t complain about it.

The two of you just lay like that for a moment before you relaxed some more.

Otis wouldn’t make another comment, mostly because he didn’t know what to say. So, he decided to say nothing and just leave you be. He was only half awake anyway so he was already falling asleep again, and so were you, now feeling surprisingly more safe.

This would definitely have an impact on your relationship and sleeping beside him would become a much more regular thing.

Baby Firefly

You had been staying with the Fireflys for a while now and you and Baby had become good friends, she just made you feel better about everything that was going on in the house while you were living there.

Because you were such good friends, you had moved into her room. You had been sleeping in the living room, on the couch, but you felt a little in the way of the rest of the family. So, Baby had offered to let you stay with her.

You had found sleeping at all difficult when you first arrived at the house but now you slept fine, at least until tonight when you were woken up by a dreadful nightmare.

You woke up with a jolt and gasp, glancing around the room as you grounded yourself.

Your sudden movements woke Baby up, squinting at you as she asked what was wrong.

You were just honest with her, telling her it was bad dream.

If Baby likes you, she’s a very affectionate person, so she’s up and comforting you.

She’ll pull you towards her, letting you rest your head on her chest as she strokes your hair, lulling you back to sleep. 

After this, cuddling becomes a very regular thing.

Yautja (Predator)

It was the early stages of your relationship, you were definitely together but it was still early.

Still, it wasn’t uncommon for him to stay at your home. Because...why not? You liked spending time together.

You never feel safer than when you’re with him, so when you had a nightmare it only made sense that you wanted to be near him.

So, you climbed out of your bed and left your bedroom to search for him, finding him in the living room.

Of course he is concerned when he sees you awake this late, asking if you’re alright.

“Yeah, just had a nightmare...could you come and stay with me?” 

Well, all you had to do was ask!

He doesn’t need much of an excuse to be near you and if you need him, he’s going to be there.

The two of you head back to your bedroom and climb onto your bed. 

He’s happy when you move closer to him, he’ll even move you so that you were laying fully on his chest, letting you get comfortable.

And to help sooth you, since you were still a little shaken by the nightmare, of course he starting with those little purrs, which you’re able to feel vibrating through his chest.

It’s incredibly soothing and you feel protected in his embrace, so you fall asleep again pretty quickly.

Well, there’s no way you’ll be spending your nights any differently now.

#thomas hewitt x reader #michael myers x reader #jason voorhees x reader #brahms heelshire x reader #bo sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x reader #bubba sawyer x reader #billy lenz x reader #asa emory x reader #jesse cromeans x reader #the collector x reader #chromeskull x reader #otis driftwood x reader #baby firefly x reader #yautja x reader #predator x reader #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher #slashers #My writing

[frogtanii]

iwaizumi was... overwhelmed, to say the least.

the past few days had been such a whirlwind of change that hajime could barely properly process, much less appropriately react to it all, so he behaved much like a zombie, saying yes when prompted, signing papers when told, and packing up what was his entire life for the past 11 months.

wow. iwaizumi collapsed on his bed as he scanned his now barren bedroom. he’d been here for almost a year and yet, all his belongings were in boxes within a couple of days.

hajime couldn’t keep the disbelieving chuckle from escaping his chest as he leaned back on his bed, dark brown eyes trained on the ceiling.

it felt like he’d spent such a large chunk of his life trapped in this house, under the foot of the woman who he thought he’d marry but in reality, he’d been in little leagues longer than he’d been in love.

iwaizumi scoffed and rolled his eyes. yeah, “in love”. it’d been about a week since his whole life started to unravel and he had hardly seen, let alone spoken to meiko throughout that entire time.

over text, she’d sworn up and down that she loved and cared about him but as she passed by him packing his things a few days ago, she’d barely spared him a second glance.

hajime wasn’t going to lie. it hurt. he’d opened his heart up to her, something he didn’t do easily, and she’d taken his trust and used it to twist him into her weapon.

he always believed he was stronger than this — he’d never forget his mother telling him so when he was younger. he had fallen and scraped his knee yet he refused to cry to keep from upsetting his mom. iwaizumi existed to live up to what his mother thought of him but here he was, completely enveloped in meiko’s shit, doing her dirty work and following her bidding like some mutt.

god, toorū was right. he really was her bitch.

“i could hear you thinking from down the hall, iwa-chan.” speak of the devil...

oikawa stood at his doorway, leaning against the frame with a posture that seemed relaxed at first glance but if you looked a little closer, you’d notice the tenseness in his shoulders and the tightness of his smile.

hajime quickly sat up on his bed before motioning for his old friend to enter. “uh, yeah,” he began, his voice cracking a little from disuse, “i have a lot to think about.”

the light haired brunette let out an understanding hum before wandering into the room, sharp observant eyes darting to look at all the empty walls. “looks like you’re all packed.”

“pretty much,” iwaizumi nodded before the room fell into an awkward silence, the two childhood friends completely avoiding one another’s eyes.

“look, i-“

“iwa-chan, i’m-“

they both paused for a moment before bursting into laughter, the sound carrying into the hall and throughout the house.

hajime wiped a few stray tears from his eyes, shaking his head at their awkwardness. “you first, shittykawa.”

toorū gasped in halfhearted mock offense before quickly sobering up, training iwaizumi with a completely serious look. “i’m sorry and before you go on some bullshit, self sacrificing rant, you’re not the only one to blame for what happened to our friendship.”

he sighed while making his way to iwaizumi’s bed, sitting down gently beside him. “i should’ve known better, okay? i shouldn’t have let my jealousy and insecurities get in between us but i guess i got swept up in the attention, yknow? meiko is actually charming when she wants to be.”

iwaizumi nodded in agreement, knowing all too well how compelling meiko could be. the room fell into a more comfortable silence as both boys escaped into their thoughts, questions about the future of their friendship flitting throughout their minds.

“oh!” oikawa was pulled out of his own head at hajime’s exclamation, his eyes moving to observe his friend dig through his pockets to procure a thick white envelope. “here. i’d like you to give this yn.”

all toorū could do was nod, his brain short circuiting at the sight of iwaizumi’s apparent kindness to the woman he tormented for so long. “uh, what’s in it?” he ventured to ask, his soft hands toying with the sealed envelope flap.

a soft chuckle came from across the bed. “don’t be so nosy toorū, just give it to her, yeah?” oikawa rolled his eyes but obliged, the bed creaking as he stood to his feet.

“so... this is it, huh?” it was like the reality of the situation was just now sinking in — they hadn’t been close in a while but iwaizumi was still his best friend and he wasn’t quite ready to let him go.

they’d been through so much together, practically growing up together and now, they’d only see each other on holidays, if even then, and then he’d never be invited to hajime’s wedding as his best man as they’d planned and he also wouldn’t be the coolest uncle/godfather of iwa’s children and—

“fuck no,” hajime scoffed with a bright grin on his face. “thought you were gonna annoy me til the end of time shittykawa. don’t tell me you’re quitting your job now.”

the hidden meaning behind iwaizumi’s words brought tears to oikawa’s eyes and before he could stop himself, he launched his body into iwa’s arms. hajime hesitated, his hands stuttering at toorū’s sides as though he’d forgotten how to hug but the feeling passed, his arms winding around his friend’s lithe waist.

“‘m gonna miss you hajime,” oikawa’s voice came out as a broken whimper, his arms tightening around his shoulders.

iwaizumi hummed instead of responding, too afraid of his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. they stood there for a moment but the honk of the moving truck outside signaled the both of them of their limited time.

hurriedly, oikawa wiped the tears off his cheeks before waving awkwardly at iwaizumi as he left the room with a friendly, “don’t be a stranger.”

and then he was gone.

toorū finally allowed himself to collapse into sobs on his best friends empty bed, his palms pressing into his eyes as he sat there and just let himself feel.

apparently, he wasn’t crying very quietly because it took only a few moments for you to find him, your soft footsteps alerting him to your presence. oikawa scrambled to wipe away what he knew was an unattractive mixture of tears and snot as you got closer.

you were one of the last people he wanted to see him like this.

“hey,” you whispered, standing a few feet away from him. “um, i know this is probably a bad time but i just wanted to thank you for apologizing? back at the awards show?”

toorū sniffed as he looked up at you with confusion written on his face. “what? you shouldn’t thank me for apologizing. ‘s common courtesy.”

you laughed softly, nodding in agreement. “well, not always. so, thank you.” finished with your piece and not too keen on lingering where you weren’t wanted, you moved towards the door but were swiftly stopped before you got there.

“um, here. it’s from iwa-chan.” you gaped at the thick envelope oikawa was handing you before taking it and opening it, a low curse falling from your lips.

inside the package was a dense wad of cash, more money than you’d seen in months. accompanied with it was a letter, written in beautifully loopy handwriting.

you shut it quickly before oikawa could see, stuffing the envelope deep within your pocket where you could access it alone in the depths of your room.

“do you wanna come eat? last i heard, bokuto and tsumu were doing a cooking competition and i’m sure it’ll be fun to watch.” you were severely thrown off by the money and letter but you were determined to show toorū that you’d accepted his apology and were on your way to making amends.

he gave you a shy nod and trailed behind you to the kitchen, the loud sounds of fire and screaming coming from down the hall. you wanted to focus on the fun and merriment but the envelope was practically burning a hole in your pocket.

later that night, you finally got the chance to open the letter and read it, your former manager’s words bringing tears to your eyes.

dear yn,

i’m probably the last person you expected to hear from. you probably didn’t want to hear from me at all if i’m being honest and i don’t blame you. i know there is nothing i can say that could make up for what i’ve done to you but i’d like to try.

i’m sorry. those words don’t nearly express in and of themselves how truly remorseful i am but they needed to be said. there’s no excuse for how i treated you — not meiko, not my stress, absolutely nothing.

you deserved my common decency and respect and i didn’t give that to you. instead, i abused my position and made your life hell. i’ll never forgive myself for that.

uh, i bet you’re wondering what the money is? i promise i’m not trying to pay you off, it’s just all the money i’ve denied you since you moved here. i have a lot of wrongs to right and this is one of them.

sorry, i’m not very good with words but i just wanted you to know that i’m very sorry for everything that i’ve done. and i’m in no place to make demands or anything but i just wanted to ask if you’d keep an eye on oikawa for me.

he’s strong but he’s also vulnerable. he might be a pain in my ass but he’s my best friend and since i can’t keep him from drowning, i was wondering if you’d do that - not for me but for him.

anyways, this letter is shit but i suppose you get the gist. use the money for whatever you want and if you’re as unselfish as i’ve heard, you don’t owe me anything. you don’t owe me money, kindness, or forgiveness.

take care of yourself,

iwaizumi hajime

℗ poker face

so... this is it

series masterlist

(●’◡’●)ﾉ

an - soooo m back :D hopefully this is the last of my mini hiatuses!! this chapter sucked to write but i’m not mad at how it turned out?? pls let me know how i did skjdkd don’t forget to feed me <3333

taglist - if your name is in bold, i cannot tag you

@boosyboo9206 • @geektastic84 • @elianetsantana • @trashy-simp • @infinitebells • @6mattsun9 • @suhkusa • @katsulovee • @kotarosbabygirl • @fucktheworlddude • @insomniacwreck • @calumsfringe • @saltylettuce • @chai-blu • @al3x1ss • @hawksyoongi • @syndellwins • @jooleuuh • @loubells • @kissungjae • @liberhoe • @tetsurocore • @animeoverdosee • @duhsies • @saikishairclip • @afire24 • @premiyagi • @kit-kat428 • @doctorspencereid • @daphnxy • @kyomihann • @maer-333 • @sinoflust19 • @peteunderoos • @peachiikichu • @iidanotlida • @yongboxerrr • @kac-chowsballs • @tanakaslastbraincell • @memorableminds • @risjime • @starry-magicshop • @sugavwara • @smuttyanimeslut • @kiwibirbs-library • @haijkk • @airybnb • @crybabygumi • @iwaisa • @decaffinatedtealover • @notameera • @kawaii-angelanne • @rintarovibes • @urlocalsimp

the rest of the tags will be in the replies!!

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #hq smau #haikyuu x reader smau #haikyuu smau #haikyuu #hq x reader smau #haikyuu angst #hq angst #haikyuu fluff #hq fluff #atsumu x reader #osamu x reader #kenma x reader #kuroo x reader #bokuto x reader #akaashi x reader #daichi x reader #sugawara x reader #oikawa x reader #iwaizumi x reader #sakusa x reader #tw toxicity #tw toxic relationship #tw toxic behavior #tw toxic people #haikyuu social media au #hq social media au #℗ poker face

[scuttling]

(Not So) Casual Friday

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 4,456 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Dad Bod Hotch (it's not a main component but he very much has the tummy here), Pining, Accidentally admitting attraction, Embarrassment, A little angst, Oral sex, Protected sex Summary: Your best friend Derek finds out about your feelings for Hotch and teases you mercilessly. You can manage it, though, until the first ever Casual Friday, when Hotch shows up to work in a black polo and jeans and you kind of ruin everything. Or maybe you don't? *Requested by anon Link to A03 or read below! “Okay, girlie, today’s the day,” Derek says when you set your bag and coffee cup on your desk on Monday morning. You shoot your best friend a tired smile and wonder for the—you’ve worked at the BAU for almost two years, so it’s probably the 500th time—for the 500th time why he has to be such a morning person when you would prefer not to have a conversation until at least 10 AM.

“Today’s the day for what?” you sigh, asking out of obligation, because it’s obvious that’s what he’s waiting for; he smiles, picks up your coffee and hands it to you, which must mean you sound bitchy. You take a grateful sip, close your eyes and exhale through your nose.

“For you to admit to me that you’re in love with Hotch.”

You spit out your coffee—only all over yourself, which is great, wouldn’t want to inconvenience Derek at all—and then cough so hard he has to thump on your back to help clear your airway.

It draws some attention; Hotch comes out of his office, takes a look at the two of you and probably regrets hiring the both of you, then walks down the stairs to make sure you’re okay.

“What happened? You’re wet,” he says a bit gruffly, looking at the coffee all over your chest and sleeves. You glare over at Derek, who’s clearly trying not to laugh.

“Derek made me spill my coffee.” You grab a handful of tissues off your desk and pat at the wet spot, trying to soak up the worst of it, but it’s not salvageable. You’ll have to change your shirt.

“And then you… choked on it?” Hotch asks, to clarify. Derek does laugh at that; the things Hotch is saying happen to have dual meanings, slightly sexual, and now that Derek knows—thinks he knows—about your thing for Hotch, it’s clear he finds it all so hilarious. He’s a twelve year old boy in a grown man’s body.

“Okay, I didn’t spill, I spit,” you correct, looking up at them, and Derek makes an exaggerated face of disapproval.

“Should have swallowed,” he says, trying to sound serious, and you shoot him an irritated look and reach out to slap him in the chest. Asshole.

“Do you need help getting cleaned up?” Hotch’s expression is kind, sweet, but you’d sooner die than have him blot coffee off of your boobs. It would be mortifying, especially in front of Derek.

“No, no, I think I’m okay. Thanks,” you add with a soft smile, and then you reach up and pull your sweater over your head, unzip your go bag, and search for another top.

For some reason, Hotch has a coughing fit scarily similar to the one you just had, and you turn to pat his back like Derek did for you.

“Are you alright?” you ask, looking up into his face, and he nods despite his watering eyes.

“Fine,” he croaks, and he leaves as quickly as he came. You sigh, because it’s not even nine and your day has already been so weird.

You’re wearing a tank top, and thankfully the coffee didn’t get through to that layer, so it’s quick and easy to throw another lightweight sweater over top of it; you ball up the wet one, shove it in the dirty clothes portion of your bag, zip it up and stash it under your desk. Derek looks like he’s having the best day of his life.

“You realize you just undressed in front of Hotch,” he says with a tone you don’t appreciate. You roll your eyes.

“I did not. I had a tank top on underneath.” You almost always wear an undershirt, because you’ve been a cop long enough to know that sometimes your clothes get torn or messed up in the line of duty, and you’re not trying to offer a free show while taking down an unsub. Derek wiggles his eyebrows, points at your chest.

“Yeah, one that put those little boobies on display. His eyes bulged out of his head like a cartoon character.” This time, you punch him in the arm, hard. It’s too goddamn early for this.

“Can you please shut up already? I don’t have a thing for Hotch.”

“Ah, I didn’t say you had a thing, I said you’re in love with him. And I have evidence; lots of it.” You tip your head back, groan, wondering what you did to deserve a best friend who is also such a pain in the ass, and it’s that moment that Hotch chooses to rejoin you; he looks a little flushed, probably from the coughing earlier.

“Uh. We have a case; I know not everyone is here yet, but you can head up to the briefing room, I’ll grab the others when they arrive.”

“Sure thing, sir,” you say easily, grabbing your tablet and what’s left of your coffee; you gesture for Derek and he follows, laughing and shaking his head. “Okay, what is it now? I’m so glad you find me entertaining today.”

“‘Sure thing, sir,’” he says with a high, breathy voice you assume is supposed to mimic yours. “You want his dick so bad.” You narrow your eyes at him as you head upstairs.

“Uh, because I was being respectful? I know that’s a foreign concept for you, the world’s biggest asshole, but you don’t have to read anything into it.” You take your usual seats at the table, pull up the note-taking app on your tablet, and Derek sits back, crosses his arms behind his head.

“Well you’re not calling me ‘sir’, and I’m the sexiest piece in the office, so it’s hard not to read into it.” You look over at him, elbow on the table, chin in the palm of your hand.

“Sexy is subjective, and you don’t do it for me, sorry to break it to you.” He scoffs, laughs, and you laugh too because you both know you see each other as brother and sister, buddies, and fellow former cops, and absolutely nothing else.

“Yeah, I get it, only Hotch does it for you; he’s not my type, but I can see how a young lady like yourself could be drawn to his brooding exterior.”

“I’m not drawn to his exterior!” you practically growl, and then you’re joined by Spencer and JJ.

“Good morning. What’s going on with you two?” JJ asks, loading up the monitors for the debriefing, her eyebrows raised.

“She’s in love with Hotch,” Derek says completely nonchalantly, and you rest your head on the table, on top of your forearms, and sigh.

“She’s what?” JJ’s whole face lights up, and you seriously regret everything.

“I’m not in love with anybody!” you mumble against your arms, and then you sit up, because you’re clearly going to have to defend yourself. “And I’d appreciate it if you quit saying that I am.”

“I told you I have evidence,” Derek reminds you, leaning back in his chair a little. One swift kick would have him toppling ass over tea kettle, but you’re too nice, even when he’s actively trying to ruin your life. “Shall I go over it while we wait?”

“I’ll be an objective third party,” Spencer says with a brief smile, and you sigh, wave your hand toward Derek.

“Alright, let’s hear it. I’m sure I have a perfectly reasonable explanation for whatever evidence you might think you have.” He grins like this is the moment he’s been waiting for, and you feel a little stupid for encouraging this.

“For one, you always look at him. When I’m delivering a profile, I notice you watching the locals, making sure they understand what we’re going over, since you're the queen of analyzing the micro expressions. But when Hotch is delivering a profile, your eyes are on him the whole time. Same goes for discussing theories on the jet; anyone else, and you’ve got your face in your tablet, scribbling notes, but you always look at him when he speaks.”

Your cheeks get hot. He’s a captivating speaker, is all, with that deep, velvety voice, and you can learn a lot from him, so you pay attention. That’s just being smart.

“Second, you tense when he gets close to you: not like you don’t want him to touch you, but like you’re halfway to jumping him already and trying to control it. I could probably put my hand in your pocket and you wouldn't even flinch, but if he leans over you to point at something you look like you’re about to cream your pants.”

“I have seen that, actually,” JJ offers, and you look over at her, betrayed. Sure, you get a whiff of his clean, crisp cologne, or feel the heat of him at your back, and your body reacts, reminds you that this is your boss and you’re at work and you can’t get turned on by the way he smells, but that’s actually a good thing, not an indicator of feelings or anything.

“Third, there’s something up with you and the gray suits. I can literally tell that he’s wearing one before I even see him, all because of the look on your face. It’s like you’re drunk on the gray suit.”

“Okay, that’s not true,” you say with a roll of your eyes—the gray suits are god tier, but there’s no way you’re that obvious—but it’s Spencer who speaks up, this time.

“You know, I have noticed that. Your pupils tend to be more dilated when his suit is gray or blue than when it’s black.” Fuck. You sigh.

“He barely ever wears the blue. It looks so good on him,” you murmur, and then you snap your eyes shut, cover your face with your hands. “Fuck. This is so embarrassing.”

“To be fair, we are profilers,” Derek says, leaning in to pat your back. “But also to be fair, he’s been a profiler longer than any of us, so if we know, he definitely knows.”

“Not helping, Derek,” you grind out, and then you’re joined by the rest of the team. Penelope takes the seat next to you, leans in with a worried tone of voice.

“Is everything okay?”

“She’s having a small crisis, but she’ll be fine,” JJ says with a smile, and you don’t miss the way Hotch looks you over when she says it, concern in his eyes. “Alright, so we’re headed to Arkansas…”

Later that morning, when you’ve been given your instructions—yours are heading to the crime scene with Emily and Derek—Hotch pulls you out into the hall, rests a gentle hand on your arm.

“Are you alright? JJ mentioned you were having a crisis earlier. This is the first time I’ve been able to get you alone, and I wanted to check on you.” You take a deep breath, look up at him, so handsome in a black suit, white shirt, green tie—he almost never wears a green tie, and you absently think it brings out the more golden tones of his eyes—and smile softly.

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s really nothing. Personal stuff, and I’m dealing with it.” If by ‘dealing with it’ you mean you’ve been repressing it, shoving it down day in and day out until your feelings are choking you, then yeah, you’re dealing with it. “Thanks for checking, though, that’s kind of you.”

“Of course. I’m here to help in any way I can, if you need me.” Good god, do you need him, emotionally, physically, but that’s fantasy, and this, what he’s offering, is rooted in reality. Good things do happen, but not to you.

“Thanks.” Your voice is weak to your own ears, and he swallows, nods; you see Derek hovering by the door, waiting for you, and you pull away to join him, plastering a smile on your face. You don’t talk about it again until Friday, and at that point it’s extremely unavoidable.

It’s Casual Friday, newly implemented by the bureau as a way to boost morale, and while it doesn’t really excite you, because you’re fairly casual anyway, others take full advantage of it. Others, including Hotch.

He shows up to work wearing a black polo and dark jeans, his usual watch. It’s easily the most simplistic, basic outfit a man could decide to wear on Casual Friday, but this isn’t just a man, it’s Aaron fucking Hotchner, and so naturally, you lose your damn mind.

It wouldn’t be so bad if the damn polo didn’t fit him perfectly, tight across his shoulders and chest and the little tummy he has that makes you want to be under him so badly, your stomachs pressed together while he thrusts inside you, holding you tightly, his strong thighs working against yours…

“Hello, are you alive in there?” Emily asks, waving her hand in front of your face; the two of you, along with Derek, are in Penelope’s office for lunch while Rossi, Reid, and JJ are out of the office for a seminar. You blink, shake away your thoughts and hope and pray they don’t come back—but they’ll come back, they always do.

“She’s just short circuiting because of Hotch’s Casual Friday look,” Morgan says with a wink, sitting backward in his seat. “She’s been drooling so much I’ve had to follow her around with a mop to clean up after her.” You push your wheeled chair away from them with a groan, needing space and air and, potentially, a brain transplant. You’ve gotten nothing done all day long.

“Can you blame me? The man comes in here everyday, buttoned up tight, looking incredible in a suit and tie, and then he shows up in that black polo, all snug and hot and delicious, and you expect me not to freak out? You guys are lucky I didn’t pass out.” You’re met with silence, and you blink, confused, at your friends, but they’re all just kind of staring with looks of barely concealed humor. “What? It’s not like it’s a secret that I want to climb him like a tree.”

“Pretty sure it was a secret to him,” Penelope says, looking shocked, and you whip around in your chair to see Hotch standing in the doorway, wide-eyed and a little flushed.

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry. I, uh—” He raises a hand, waves you off.

“It’s okay. No harm done; thank you, for the, uh. Compliment.” He steps forward, hands a manila folder to Penelope. “Thanks for taking care of these,” he says softly, and then, unsurprisingly, he gets the hell out of there. You wish you could disappear off the face of the Earth.

“Fuck, holy fuck,” you mutter when he’s gone, leaning forward with your head in your hands. “That’s it, I’m quitting. It’s been nice knowing you guys.”

“Okay, don’t be dramatic,” Derek says, and you look up to glare at him; he’s the one that started all this in the first place. You were fine, feelings tamped down and suppressed, until he brought it up and then told everyone you know.

“Don’t tell me not to be dramatic, Derek! This is all your fault. You never respect my boundaries, you never know when to just let me be, you always have to pick and pick until you wear me down. Maybe I had a reason for wanting to keep my feelings private, did you ever think of that?”

“I know you're upset,” Emily begins softly, because there’s some pretty thick tension between you and Derek now, but you stand up, push your chair across the room, and shake your head.

“I’m not upset, I’m fucking humiliated. I’m going home; let him know I’m sick, will you?” You exhale deeply, storm upstairs and grab your stuff and drive home with tears in your eyes. You’ve never been so embarrassed in your life, and add that to the absolute heartbreak you’re feeling? You’re just happy you make it to your apartment, so you can break down with cheesecake and a sappy, romantic comedy with a happy ending: those perfect, fictional worlds are pretty much the only place one is guaranteed. You are, as planned, hunkered down on the sofa in your softest pajamas, watching You’ve Got Mail and eating the center out of an entire cheesecake with a spoon when there’s a knock at your door. You groan, pick up your cheesecake tin, and walk over to it, fully expecting it to be Derek come to beg for forgiveness for ruining your life, so it’s no surprise you drop your dessert on the floor when it’s actually Hotch on the other side.

He looks down at the tin, then up at your face, cracks the barest hint of a smile.

“I thought you were sick; I brought soup,” he says, holding up a paper bag, and your heart thumps in your chest. You wipe a hand over your face, because you haven’t been exactly neat in your heartache cheesecake consumption, and then you kick the tin across the floor and invite him in, closing the door behind him.

“I thought it was obvious that I wasn’t actually sick, just… really embarrassed,” you say when he turns back to look at you. “I can’t believe you heard all that stuff I said… I’m really sorry I made you uncomfortable.” You take the bag from his hand and invite him to follow you into the kitchen, where you set it on the counter, lean against it. He comes close, but not so close you can’t function, which is good; your comfy pajamas are shorts and a loose tank top, so you feel a little exposed already.

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable,” he says softly, and you frown, must have heard him wrong. He presses his fingertips against the counter, as if for support. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable. It was… unexpected,” he explains, “very unexpected, but I’m not uncomfortable.”

You flush hot, and you can feel the bad decision part of your brain switching on, warning bells ringing in your head.

Whatever you do next has the potential to be extremely stupid, and you would like to avoid that at all costs; you love your job, after all, despite how physically and emotionally exhausting it can be, and you love your team. Time to think with your upstairs brain only.

“That makes me feel a little better,” you say truthfully, and despite the pep talk you just gave yourself, you move closer to him like there’s an invisible magnetic force between you; you would imagine a guy like Hotch would step back, keep his distance, but he only cranes his neck a little so he can look down at you more easily.

God, he’s tall. And he smells good, and his face is perfect, and that goddamn polo...

“Good, I’m glad. I don’t want you to feel bad about this. I’m not uncomfortable, it’s not… it’s not unwanted.” You swallow audibly, looking up at him, wondering if he knows what he’s saying, what it sounds like.

“It’s not?” you ask, and it comes out breathy; he takes a small step closer to you, brushes his fingers over your arm, peers into your eyes.

“No, it’s not. I’ve been thinking of you, too; I know you know you’re beautiful, but you’re also so smart, and strong-willed, and a force to be reckoned with. I’m proud to have you on my team, and I’d be proud… to have you climb me like a tree.” He smiles again, just the barest hint of one, and you put your arms around him and pull him closer for a kiss.

One long, slow, perfect kiss turns into another, then another, and he presses your back against the counter, his hands on your face and your hands on his thick waist; you hum into the kiss, revel in the feel of his lips on yours, his tongue sweeping past them, and when you pull back for air it feels like there’s only one question that needs to be asked.

“Bedroom?” you breathe, and he nods, and you take his hand and pull him in that direction, pausing to kiss him several times before you get there. “You don’t happen to have a condom, do you?” you ask, breathless, guiding him to the bed, and he frowns, shakes his head.

“I didn’t want to seem presumptuous.” You grin at that, lean forward and kiss him, your fingers in his hair.

“I find it so hot that you even say presumptuous. I might have one here somewhere.” You open your nightstand, move around books and toys until you find a couple; you flip them over, checking to see if they’re expired, and offer him a couple options. “They’re still good, surprisingly. You can, uh. Choose the one that would work best.”

He looks them over, picks one and hands back the rest, and you throw them back in the drawer and slide into his lap, wrap your arms around his shoulders.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he says, holding your waist as you look down at him, completely in awe that this is happening. “But I want to clarify: if you’re looking for something casual, I don’t think we should go any further.” You inhale softly, surprised by his straightforwardness, and you lean in, kiss him slowly.

“I don’t want casual. I want to be with you.” His eyes are so brilliant, dark in the dim light of your bedroom, and he nods, presses his lips to yours and slides his hands beneath your top, guides it over your head. Then they move to your shorts, slipping them gently off your hips, and you stand so he can push them to the ground.

You’re both breathing heavily, a little rough, and you step between his legs, kiss him again, run your hands down his chest, closing your eyes with a sigh because you finally get to feel him after a year of just imagining what it would be like. After a beat, you open your eyes, look into his, smile.

“Really grateful for Casual Friday,” you whisper. “Otherwise you might never have found out I’m kind of in love with you.” You ease the polo over his head, drop it on the ground and encourage him to stand so you can take off his pants; he does, but before you can drop to your knees as planned, he takes your face in his hands, presses one soft kiss against your mouth.

“I’m more than kind of in love with you.” Oh, if that isn’t the greatest sentence your ears have ever heard… You wrap your arms around his neck, kiss a little more, forgetting that you planned to finish undressing him; when you remember, you make quick work of it, then have him lay back against the bed and settle between his legs.

You put your mouth on him because you want to, more than anything, and his hand drops to your hair, caressing you while you suck slowly, deeply, holding him with one hand and pressing against his stomach with the other. His moans are soft and gorgeous, his body tense beneath your hand, and you’d do this all night, but he murmurs your name, coaxes you up, puts his hands on your back as you settle against him.

“You’re so incredible. I never would have imagined I’d get this, get you,” he breathes, skimming his hands over your sides and hips, and you kiss softly, steamy and sweet.

“Me neither.” You lean up, make space for him to roll on the condom, and then press him inside; your breath hitches, and so does his, and you lay on top of him, chest to chest, stomach to stomach, arms around each other tightly while you move. “Hmm. Aaron,” you sigh, hair falling around him, and he groans, digs his fingertips into your hips.

“Sounds so perfect coming out of your mouth.” You smile, but it slips away when he surges up to kiss you, leans up so he’s sitting with you in his lap. He slides a broad hand up your back, wraps it around the nape of your neck, and pumps his hips up as you sink down, eliciting a series of soft, eager moans from the both of you.

“Feels like I’ve waited so long; I’ve never wanted someone as badly as I wanted you,” you tell him, chest heaving, and he brings you to him for a kiss, something a little rougher, less refined. He’s getting close.

“Never. You make me feel so much.” You reach back against his leg for support, work harder to bring him off, and when he comes he crushes his mouth against yours, delicious and more uncontrolled than you’ve ever seen him. He chants your name, so soft and sweet rolling off of his tongue, and then gets you on your back so he can press deeply inside.

You feel so incredibly full, panting beneath him, your hands on his waist and your feet on the backs of his thighs; his perfect face is inches from yours, all shallow breaths and decadent, passionate kisses, and when you climax you pull him closer, sigh, unravel completely in his embrace.

Maybe good things do happen after all. You hold each other and talk for a while, after a quick pitstop to the restroom, and then your stomach growls—understandably, since the only thing to fill it since lunch was that stupid cheesecake—and Hotch orders takeout on his phone from bed; god bless technology.

There’s a knock at the door twenty minutes later, and you know that’s quick for your favorite Thai place, but you’re not complaining because you’re officially starving. He offers to grab it, throws on his boxers and heads for the living room; after a few minutes, you wonder what’s taking so long, pull on your robe and go to check on him.

Hotch is talking to Derek, who is standing in your living room with a piece of cheesecake and a shit eating grin.

“I came with a peace offering, but now I think I’ll wait for a, ‘Thank you, Derek,’” he says, and you roll your eyes, stalk over and take the cheesecake out of his hands. You give it to Hotch, lean up to kiss Derek on the cheek, and push him toward the door.

“Thank you, Derek. Go away, Derek,” you say with a smile of your own, and he raises his palms and retreats down the hall, laughing as he goes.

This is just one more thing he’ll tease you mercilessly about, but this time the benefits outweigh the costs. Taglist ❤️: @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #hotch x female reader #hotch x reader #ask answered #anon #prompt #dad bod hotch

[ssadumba55]

Uptight and Busy (Bernard x Reader)

Request: hello there! glad to see you back again :) may i send a request for like a platonic baernard x reader where the reader is scotss daughter and they just met and their into all emo and rock stuff and bernard thinks their gonna be mischiefious but are really sweet and becomes bffs? any wrting style your comfortable with, merry christmas :))

Gif credit to the wonderful @fo-babes , I wonder very often what I would do without Luis tbh.

“Uh. Mmmm. No.”

Bernard was definitely in way over his head right now, even though he would never admit that to Santa or any of the other elves. Ever. There was still over a month until Christmas (thankfully!) but some of the more handy elves, while doing some experiments, ended up breaking some of the conveyor belts for some of the toys. The same job could be done manually, but it was taking a lot longer. He needed them back up and running if they were going to make the quota for December 24th.

Now, not only was he bogged down with this issue, but his boss wanted him to do something way out of his pay grade.

Santa’s daughter, well, you, had just made the big leap of moving from Illinois to the North Pole. You were still adjusting and according to him, you needed to get out of the house more, make some friends. It seemed only fitting to have the Head Elf do this, seeing as he normally helped people become acquainted with the new setting.

And Bernard had nothing against you, honest. He hadn’t even met you, how could he really think anything ill of you? Plus, Charlie and Lucy were great kids so he assumed you were just as well, but he didn’t have time to run around playing honorary tour guide.

If he was being honest, he was a little intimidated by you as well. He’d only seen you once when you’d arrived, but that had been enough. The dark clothes, the dyed hair, the loud music… He was certain no good could come from having you around the workshop but he didn’t want to admit that to his boss.

The holiday season was stressful enough without being fired.

“Sir, with all due respect, the workshop needs me. I can’t leave now.” Bernard nearly ran right into an elf carrying a large pile of teddy bears, so large in fact she couldn’t see over them. He guided her in the direction of the soft plush animals and continued on his way, Scott following closely.

The man snorted and stroked his beard. “I’m pretty sure I can handle the workshop without you, Bernard. You’re forgetting, it is my workshop!”

“You’ve never dealt with it in a state of crisis, I can’t leave the workshop and no offence, but I’m pretty sure the last place I want (Y/n) to be is in or around this place while it’s in a state of crisis,” he paused to examine a set of toy trains, being worked on tirelessly by a few elves. He couldn’t believe he was even having this discussion, why couldn’t Scott just deal with his own kid? Or find an elf who wasn’t as busy as him? Maybe he should suggest finding Curtis…

Before his boss could respond though, another voice interrupted their conversation.

“He’s right dad, if he’s as busy as he says he is, maybe we should just do this another time. I’m still going to be here over a month from now,” he hadn’t realized you’d been standing nearby the entire time. The two began a quiet debate that Bernard couldn’t hear over the hustle and bustle of the workshop, but your words stuck with him.

Maybe he had been a little harsh, just because you LOOKED like a person who causes mischief and got up to no good, it didn’t mean you were. He knew all about the dangers pre concieved notions had. After all, at one point Scott hadn’t liked Carol and she ended up being his wife, not to mention Neil Miller and Charlie’s little “bad boy” stint. Just because someone appears a certain way does not mean that’s who they actually are on the inside.

An elf tugged on his pant leg, holding a toy up to get his attention and for a moment he’s distracted while looking over the toy.

“You guys really make these toys the long way, huh, it would be so much easier if you put the wheels on last instead of trying to make them fit first,” you pointed out, watching as the elves tried desperately to make the wheels fit on the parts before they’d even built the rest of it. Bernard looked up from the toy he was examining.

He hated to admit it, but you were right. Why hadn’t he thought of that? There were probably so many things they did in the workshop that made sense to him, but took so much longer. It made his face heat up slightly, he was often so caught up in the workload that he didn’t see the obvious things right in front of him… He needed a fresh set of eyes to really help him get things running a lot more smoothly here.

“What, why are you looking at me like that?” He hadn’t realized he’d been staring until you mentioned it but a grin slowly spread over his face.

“I think I do actually have time to show you around the workshop… If you have time to maybe help me make things a lot more efficient around here. I’m swamped and I could use all the help I could get,” it was odd that even though Bernard was hundreds of years old, he still had trouble asking for help. It felt like a biting remark or something he had to force out. But you didn’t mind, in fact you didn’t even seem to notice the struggle to get the words out he’d had. You simply grinned, holding your hand out.

“I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship. I’m the laidback one, you’re the uptight one?”

“I am not uptight, I’m on a schedule.”

“That’s what an uptight guy would say.”

“Are you going to help me or not, because I will tell Santa-”

“You think dad wouldn’t agree you’re uptight?”

He grumbled, shaking your hand and you grinned. “Alright! Come on, much to see Bernard the Uptight One!”

“I will kick you out of this workshop.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

#disney imagine #christmas imagines #the santa clause imagine #bernard the elf x reader #bernard the elf imagine #disney x reader

[chaos-burst]

one way or another (i’m gonna get you)

Dorian has a problem.

That problem is currently drunk off his ass and trying to balance one of Opal’s daggers on the tip of his nose. Of course he’s failing miserably, hitting himself in the eye with the blunt end twice thus far and maybe Dorian shouldn’t chuckle about it, but Dariax just keeps trying as Opal and Fearne edge him on.

“If you’re not careful you’ll stab your own eye out”, Orym says. He’s still nursing the same beer he started drinking an hour ago, probably to stay sober enough to stop any shenanigans that go too far.

“Oh, don’t worry about that, buddy. That already happened to me, like, three times, and I just healed it back together. No big deal.”

Dorian can see that Orym is at a loss for words.

“Dorian, do you think I can do it?”, Dariax calls over to him where he’s sitting, holding his lute and enjoying the warm evening breeze.

“Sure, Dariax. I’ll write a song about you if you do”, he says with an amused smile. Dorian tries to keep his smile from widening as Dariax beams at him and tries even harder.

All his life Dorian has been taught to be proper and well behaved—maybe that is why he feels drawn towards—well. Towards the group. The group that Dariax is also a part of and that Dorian definitely doesn’t feel drawn towards more than any of the others.

He starts moving his fingers mindlessly over the strings of his lute as Dariax stumbles backwards, falls over Opal’s outstretched legs and lands in her lap with the dagger clattering to the ground in front of them.

Dorian thinks about Dariax sitting on his lap, then he almost chokes on his own spit because so far Dariax hasn’t done anything even remotely appealing or attractive. He’s had shit on his beard, piss on his hands, he’s dirty and loud and so obnoxious.

But when he told Dorian that he’s the handsome one and that he’s just good at talking to people and whether Dorian wants some tips from him—Dorian was tempted. For a split second, he was thinking about Dariax offering to teach him how to flirt.

Because Dorian might be aware that he’s handsome, but he has exactly zero idea about how to flirt with people.

“Hey, Dorian! Do I still get a song?”, Dariax shouts, still half sitting in Opal’s lap.

“Sure, buddy. I’ll write you a song.”

“Cool! It’s a promise!”, Dariax says, thumbs up, a big grin on his handsome face.

There, Dorian can admit it.

Dariax is handsome. They’re all handsome. It’s really no big deal. Not at all.

Dorian tries not to think about what his parents would say about Dariax, because it’s completely irrelevant. It’s not like his parents will meet his friends, and especially not Dariax. Maybe he should go to bed and hope that come the next morning his circling thoughts will have stopped.

“Are you working on the song?”

Dorian blinks and turns his head, only to come face to face with Dariax who managed to get up from Opal’s lap and is now sitting right next to him, leaning way into Dorian’s personal space.

Dariax smells like ten different kinds of alcohol, leather and thankfully no bodily fluids, which is definitely an improvement. Dorian wishes that the fact that he’s seen this man with shit on his beard would dissuade his heart from beating a little faster every time Dariax grins at him.

Sadly his heart doesn’t care.

Neither does his stomach, which is currently doing all kinds of complicated gymnastics since Dariax invaded Dorian’s personal space.

“No. I don’t think I can concentrate in here while all that is going on”, Dorian says and gestures towards Opal who is now teaching Fearne how to do body shots.

“Aw, man. Can you play something? Something...hm. Something cool.”

“All my songs are cool, thank you very much!”

Dariax laughs.

“Yeah, okay, you’re not wrong there. You have a really beautiful voice, buddy. No wonder that goliath lady fell in love with you after like, three minutes!”

Dorian feels something that reminds him a lot of the feeling he gets when he’s falling or misses a step on some stairs. His heart starts doing an offensive little tumble and he clears his throat a little too loud as he leans out of Dariax’ space and clutches his lute as if his life depends on it.

“I don’t think I would know what to do if someone actually fell in love with me”, Dorian says with an embarrassingly shrill laugh and a second after the words have left his mouth he regrets them already.

“Aw, buddy, I told you—I can totally teach you a few tricks, you know? Just show you how to get real popular with the ladies. Or gents. Or people in general”, Dariax says and winks at him.

Dorian wishes he could turn into thin air. His cheeks feel very hot.

“I—uh. I don’t think that’s necessary. It’s not like I really have the time—“

Dariax snorts and raises his eyebrows.

“Oh, come on, Dorian. We’re just hanging out, right? If you wanna get laid, we have plenty of time for that. You should just relax a little more. Okay, so. What’s your type?”

Dorian stares at Dariax for almost thirty seconds before he clears his throat again.

“Uh. I—don’t. Well. Adventurous. Maybe—uh. Maybe brunettes?”

“Adventurous brunettes? That’s pretty vague, buddy. Just saying. Wait a second!”

Dariax leans closer again and puts his hand on Dorian’s shoulder. Then he does a terrible shout-whisper into Dorian’s ear that shouldn’t give him goosebumps but, fuck, it definitely does.

“Are you into Orym?”

Dorian blinks and turns his head to stare at Dariax who looks as if he just found out an earth-shattering secret through some careful investigation.

“N—no! No, he’s not. I mean, Orym is—fine? I don’t, uh—what I meant to say is... I don’t really know what my type is”, he ends lamely.

Of course Dariax feels the need to put an arm around Dorian now.

“Don’t worry, buddy. We’ll get you laid in no time. You have a pretty face and voice and all that, pretty sure that’ll go easy peasy.”

“That’s really not—“

“Hey guys, what are you whispering about?”, Opal shouts.

“We’re trying to figure out what Dorian’s type is to get him laid!”, Dariax shouts back.

“No, that’s not—“

“Ohh! Interesting! You don’t have a type? Did you never have a relationship before? Wait—are you like, a virgin?”

Dorian abruptly gets up from his chair. He’s definitely not drunk enough for this.

“I’m going to bed”, he says and leaves the room in a hurry, ignoring the disappointed shouts of his new friends following him outside.

*

Dorian hopes that his friends have forgotten the whole thing about supposedly getting him laid and about how Dariax intends to teach him flirting. But unfortunately the universe decides to not do him this favor.

Suddenly, every remotely attractive person they pass invokes a whole litany of questions.

Opal, Fearne and Dariax want to know everything. Which height, body-type, eye color, temperament, and style of clothing does he like? Does he prefer any genders to others? On six different occasions, Dariax tries to wingman Dorian into asking random strangers on dates.

Dorian is so desperate that he considers just telling them that he actually has someone back home, just so they will leave him alone.

It wouldn’t be the first lie he told.

Dorian feels a pang of guilt for lying about his name to these people who keep fighting alongside him.

Orym, bless his soul, is the only person who doesn’t partake in these interrogations and at some point, after Opal had asked Dorian if he was more into “tits or asses” Orym had quietly stated that “he deserves his privacy, you guys”.

Dorian has no idea if he’s a “tits or asses” kinda guy.

But Dorian just can’t stop thinking about the way Dariax’ voice sounded when it lilted “Man, you have the prettiest fucking eyes I’ve ever seen” the last time they were drunk.

It seems weirdly typical and ridiculous that Dorian has to have his first crush on the most chaotic man he ever met.

Dorian wishes he could forget about those damn words, just like everything that happened in their first week.

“You know”, Orym says to him two nights after that cursed conversation as they’re making their way further south towards Byroden, “if you told them to stop in earnest, I think they would respect that.”

The landscape is a carpet of green, sloping hills, rolling fields that lie bare now that winter is closing in around them. The sky is blue and cloudless and as they talk their breath puffs up in front of their faces and vanishes shortly after.

Dorian looks at Orym and then pointedly turns his gaze at Opal and Dariax, who started making a list of their findings regarding Dorian’s type.

“You sure?”, he says with one eyebrow raised.

Orym looks at least as pained as Dorian feels right now.

“I see your point. But they’re not—you know. Not bad people, I guess. I don’t think they want to hurt you.”

“Well, they’re not hurting me, they’re annoying me to death!”

Orym pats him on the back in a way that is so pitiful, Dorian can hardly take it.

“I wouldn’t usually encourage lying, but maybe you could just make up a girlfriend. Or boyfriend. Or—“

“What if I just tell them that you’re my type”, Dorian interrupts and Orym blinks at him.

“Uh—“

“No offense, you’re not. Not that you’re not handsome or anything, I just. Well—“

“It’s fine”, Orym says with a snort and shakes his head with a disbelieving smile. “You don’t have to fuss about it. You’re also very handsome but not my type.”

Dorian tries not to be offended after the last kick to his ego in Gilmore’s shop and clears his throat.

“Okay, so. What about it? Will you be my—I don’t know. My fake boyfriend?”

“No.”

“Oh, come on, Orym, I’m desperate here!”

“I will not be swept up in all of that. I still think you should just try to talk to them.”

Dorian feels betrayed and huffs, but he doesn’t press the issue any further. It’s probably going to be fine, he thinks. That is, until Dariax walks up to him, grins up at him cheekily and bumps his elbow into Dorian’s side.

“So. Are you finally ready to admit it?”, Dariax asks.

There is a glint in his eyes that Dorian can’t quite read.

“Admit what?”, he asks, already dreading the answer.

“That you have the hots for Orym!”

Dorian stares down at Dariax, the man he, so, so very unfortunately has “the hots for” and sighs deeply.

“You caught me”, he says with a gravelly voice. “I have the hots for Orym.”

“I knew it!”, Dariax shouts, then catches himself and turns his voice into a whisper instead. “I fucking knew it!”

Dorian massages his temple.

Maybe becoming an adventurer was a terrible idea. Maybe he shouldn’t have come here. He could make a name for himself somewhere else. The Menagerie coast is supposed to be lovely all year around.

“Okay, don’t worry, buddy. I gotcha. I’ll keep your secret, won’t even tell the girls at all. And you know what, because we’re such great friends I have a special offer just for you”, Dariax says and leans in even closer to Dorian, who has to lean down significantly.

“And what offer is that?”, Dorian asks with a sigh, resigning himself to his fate. At least Orym knows that Dorian isn’t actually attracted to him, so, he thinks, this can’t possibly get any worse.

“I should totally be your fake boyfriend so you can make him jealous.”

Dorian stares at Dariax.

Dariax stares back with the proudest grin on his handsome face.

The universe is trying to punish him. For whatever reason, it must have decided to make Dorian the butt of a cosmic joke. That’s the only explanation for all of this.

“I don’t think that’s—“

“It’s perfect! Don’t worry, I have experience with this sort of stuff, just lemme handle this.”

Dariax winks at Dorian and then grabs his hand to intertwine their fingers.

“Hey guys”, he calls as he pulls Dorian along who follows helplessly, his heart stumbling in his chest as his consciousness zooms in on the feeling of Dariax’ hand in his, “guess what. I should’ve clocked it all along, but of course it makes perfect sense! Check it out!”

And as Orym, Opal and Fearne turn their heads, Dariax raises their intertwined fingers and beams at the others.

“Wait…”, Orym starts slowly, his brow furrowed in confusion, “what…?”

“Too late, Orym. He’s my boyfriend now”, Dariax says and Dorian wishes that the wind would just pick him up and carry him away.

*

Dorian has to say something.

He can’t, under any circumstances, keep this up.

He is sitting—and gods, his heart is beating so terribly fast—on Dariax’ lap.

Dariax had insisted on it and now his muscular arms are wound around Dorian’s waist as if this is the most normal thing in the world. For someone who doesn’t actually have to breathe to survive, Dorian feels a little bit like he’s suffocating from the staccato inside his rib cage.

They made camp close to a rock formation that, according to Fearne, looks like a pig with wings. The night smells of snow, but Dorian feels hot despite the cold.

He doesn’t know what to do.

He knows it even less when Dariax’ hand finds one of his and just casually starts rubbing circles into the back of his hand with a thumb. Dorian can feel Orym’s eyes on them and sadly that edges Dariax on even more because he thinks his plan is working.

“You know”, Dariax says and sounds way too casual about it, “I can’t believe how lucky I got. Pretty sure you’re the most beautiful person I’ve been with so far, Dorian.”

“I—uh”, Dorian says, then somehow forgets how to speak. His cheeks feel incredibly hot even though he doesn’t sit remotely close to the fire.

Orym cocks his head and suddenly his eyes turn a little too wide for Dorian’s tastes.

Dorian doesn’t want anyone to understand anything about this disaster.

“Well, I would certainly love a boyfriend who tells me nice things like that”, Opal sighs dreamily. “Or—you know. Maybe a girlfriend. Who knows. I certainly don’t.”

She laughs a little too shrilly but Dorian doesn’t have the mental capacity to think about it anymore because a tingling sensation is running through his body and crawling along the underside of his skin as Dariax’ fingers just keep on gently, way too gently, drawing nonsensical symbols and circles on Dorian’s hand.

“Well, I just know what’s good. I make a great boyfriend”, Dariax announces with a smug undertone to his voice. The sad thing is that Dorian can’t even disagree.

So far, Dariax has been nothing but—well. There is no other word for it. Gentle and accommodating. He also started flirting with Dorian and his flirting only ever got tasteless twice during the last twenty-four hours.

He has offered to carry stuff for Dorian, held his hand, given him way too many compliments for Dorian’s poor heart to handle, helped him climb over some rocks and purposefully took a hit for Dorian in combat earlier today while shouting “Not my boyfriend, you ash-hole!”.

If someone had told him that Dariax makes good boyfriend material, Dorian would have scoffed at them.

But now.

Well.

Now he’s in even deeper shit, because this doesn’t help his feelings at all. It does the exact opposite of helping.

Gods, Dorian wishes he could kiss him.

“Well, I am certainly—uh. Happy? For you two”, Orym says with a pointed look at Dorian. Dorian tries to tell Orym that this wasn’t his idea with his eyes alone, that this is the worst, that Dorian definitely needs saving, but he doesn’t think anything gets across because the moment that Orym says that and looks at Dorian, Dariax seems to decide that he can’t have Orym looking at Dorian like that.

Dorian makes an embarrassing screeching sound as he is dipped backwards on Dariax’ lap. There is a very handsome, dwarven face with glinting eyes right in front of his when he opens his eyes again.

“Just go along”, Dariax whispers and before Dorian can protest or even just try to catch up with what’s happening, there are dry, warm lips pressed against his mouth and Dariax is closing his eyes.

Dorian’s brain is blank for a few seconds, then it kicks into overdrive, much like his heart that seems eager to jump right out of his chest and into the campfire. Dorian can’t fault it, because he, too, would love to jump into the campfire, never to be seen again.

Dariax is holding him with one arm while his other hand is resting on Dorian’s cheeks where Dariax’ thumb starts rubbing circles again as he kisses Dorian.

Dorian wants to run away.

He wants to kiss back.

He wants this to be real.

Dariax doesn’t actually want to kiss him. He only does it because he’s pretending, there is nothing real about any of this, no matter how nice and exciting his warm lips feel against Dorian’s.

Dorian pushes him away, clambers up from his position, trying very hard not to fall as he stands up, and steps away from Dariax hastily.

“I—ah. I need to. Pee. Yes. Pee. I’ll be—uh. Later!”

And he walks as fast as he can without breaking into a run.

His lips are still burning after he stops walking without even seeing where he’s going. It’s dumb. All of this is so incredibly dumb.

Beautiful eyes, beautiful voice, beautiful person.

Dariax really has to stop saying these things.

It’s already enough that Dorian developed this stupid crush after such a short amount of time on the road. It’s stupid that it had to be Dariax of all people—couldn’t it have been someone reasonable? Like Orym?

Couldn’t it just have been no one? Or a nice, noble lady that he impressed with his songs and good looks?

No.

He’s standing in the middle of nowhere, his heart beating rapidly in his chest with no clue where he even is or what he’s doing. The trees around him are leafless and bare, stretching towards the dark sky like skeletal silhouettes. Dorian doesn't know what to do.

Dariax kissed him.

He had his first kiss with a complete and utter maniac of a person. His lips are still tingling and gods, he wants to kiss him again and again and again—

“Dorian! Doriaaan!”

Dorian turns around and wipes at his face that feels weirdly wet.

Gods, he hates everything and everyone right now.

Dariax comes to a halt in front of him, his breath coming quickly and holding his compass rose.

“Okay—wow. Your legs. Are so. Long. You’re so. Fucking fast”, Dariax huffs and puts his hands on his knees as he tries to catch his breath.

Dorian looks at him and can’t decide whether he wants to kick Dariax in the shin or just run away further.

“So, uh—sorry. I got a little carried away and I kinda—uh. It was brought to my attention that it wasn’t very cool of me to just kiss you without asking if that’s okay with you. So—uh. Really sorry about that, shoulda thought about that before I—uh. You know.”

Dariax scratches the back of his head as he looks down at Dorian’s left knee.

“It’s—well. Yeah, I suppose a little warning would have been nice. It’s—uh.”

Dorian stops and wipes at his face again and when he looks back up Dariax is studying him, his gaze intense and uncharacteristically serious.

“Wait—wait a second. Was that your first kiss?”

“No! I mean. Yes! Sort of! Maybe!”

Dariax gapes and Dorian wishes the earth could swallow him up whole.

“Oh fuck, buddy, man, that’s. I’m really sorry, I didn’t—damn. I really fucked that one up, huh?”

Dariax looks so earnestly mortified at what he’s done that Dorian can already feel how he’s forgiving him, how he finds it endearing, how his heart swells in his chest like the idiot that it is.

“It’s not such a big deal. Don’t worry about it. Just—uh. Maybe we should talk about all of this stuff before… you know.”

“Yeah, yeah, totally. I swear I’m usually not a creep or anything, it was just… you know. The heat of the moment, or something. So…”

Dariax is scratching the back of his head again and swallows before he shoots Dorian a lopsided grin.

“So. No kissing and stuff like that, huh? Just the hand-holding? Hey, maybe a hug or something?”

Dorian stares at him and he could swear that Dariax’ cheeks are a little redder than before, which, Dorian supposes, comes from his embarrassment about his earlier fuck-up.

As long as they’re doing this fake-boyfriend gig, Dorian could kiss Dariax whenever he wants. Because apparently Dariax doesn’t mind that one little bit. He might never get the chance again to kiss him if he says no now.

So Dorian does something incredibly stupid and impulsive and maybe it’s even a real ash-hole move. In this tiny moment in time he decides to be selfish.

“Kissing is fine. Uh—you know. You’re not that bad at it, I guess”, he says and laughs which sounds terribly false in his own ears but Dariax perks up and throws him a reckless grin that makes Dorian’s heart stumble in his chest.

“Ha! You just wait for it, I’ll kiss your brains out before you know it!”

*

Dorian might be addicted.

He knows that this is all a ruse based on a misunderstanding but gods, kissing Dariax is so good.

And Dariax somehow makes it seem as if he’s just as into it as Dorian is, because he keeps kissing him all the time. Of course, it never happens when they’re alone and only when Orym is in more or less close proximity but if Dorian isn’t careful he’ll start believing that they’re actually boyfriends sooner than later.

Dariax is so good at pretending.

He kisses Dorian as if he never wants to kiss anyone else. He holds Dorian’s face in his hands as if it’s something precious. He kisses Dorian breathless and at more than one point Dorian had to stop him because he was getting a little too into it and he’s afraid of overstepping any boundaries.

Dariax promised that he would kiss Dorian’s brains out and it’s absolutely working. On the seventh day on their journey south they get so caught up in making out that they don’t realize that the others have gone to find a camping place for the night.

“We should—uh. Probably follow them”, Dorian croaks and stares down at Dariax’ lips.

“Hmhm. Yeah. Probably a good idea”, Dariax mumbles. Then he kisses Dorian again.

Dorian gets lost in the sensation of tongues sliding against one another and the feeling of Dariax’ hand cupping his cheeks. Dorian slides his hands into Dariax’ hair and buries his fingers in there, something that provokes a sound from Dariax. A sound that gives Dorian goosebumps all over his arms.

He wants to hear it again. He wants to touch more. He wants, he wants, he wants—

Dariax pulls back, his eyes glassy, his breathing labored.

“I—uh. Ha. I got a little carried away. Sorry. What do you say about checking where the others went?”

“Sure. Yeah. Great idea. Let’s go.”

He steps away from Dariax and stuffs his hands into his pockets to keep Dariax from reaching for them. This is a complete and utter disaster.

Dorian knows that he should stop it.

He shouldn’t abuse Dariax’ trust like this and keep up his pretense when all that Dariax wants is to help Dorian make Orym jealous.

Which has, of course, not worked in the slightest, but Dariax insists that it’s just because Orym is such a rational and level-headed guy.

“We just need to wear him thin, you know.”

Dorian doesn’t know.

He feels like he doesn’t know anything anymore.

When they finally reach the campsite, Fearne has placed her head in Opal’s lap and seems to be napping as Opal carefully braids her long, green hair.

“You guys alright?”, Orym asks with his eyebrows raised. Dorian feels himself flush and clear his throat.

“More than alright”, Dariax answers and winks. The implication makes Dorian’s cheeks heat up even more.

He didn’t think that Orym’s eyebrows could climb even higher, but that’s exactly what happens as he regards the two of them.

“Dorian, can I talk to you for a second?”, Orym asks and gets up from the log he was sitting on. Dorian shoots Dariax a glance and he seems… off.

Dariax doesn’t return Dorian’s look, he just walks over to the fire, lets himself fall down next to Opal and asks, way too loudly to be necessary “So what’s for dinner?”.

But Dorian doesn’t have any time to think more about this, because Orym grabs his wrist and pulls him towards a group of trees, away from the campfire and away from Dariax whose eyes seem to bore themselves into the back of Dorian’s head as he follows Orym into the night.

“What are you doing?”

Dorian doesn’t have to ask what Orym means. He wrings his hands and stares at the ground.

“I—uh. I don’t really... I don’t really know?”

“So when you said adventurous and brunette, what you actually meant was short, stocky and a complete disaster?”

“I—um...”

Orym looks at him with raised eyebrows and despite the fact that Dorian is so much taller than him he suddenly feels very small.

“Well. Dariax kind of got it into his head that I’m into you. Which I’m not.”

“Yes, we established that.”

“Exactly. And. Well, he thought it would be a good idea to be fake boyfriends to make you jealous.”

Orym’s eyebrows rise even higher towards his hairline.

“But I’m not jealous. Because you and I are just friends.”

“I know, okay? It just kinda got out of hand?He’s so—I don’t know! I don’t know what to do!”

Orym sighs and rubs his temples.

“So. You’re actually into Dariax?”, he asks.

Dorian presses his lips together and takes a deep breath before he nods.

“And he doesn’t know. He thinks you’re into me?”

Dorian nods again.

“And now he’s waiting for me to get jealous and for us two to be boyfriends?”

Dorian shrugs helplessly.

“Isn’t that... I don’t know. It seems like lying to him.”

“What do you want me to do? Just tell him that I have the hots for him and then leave the country forever?”, Dorian hisses.

“Well, maybe he has the hots for you, too!”, Orym whispers back and Dorian can’t help but laugh. It sounds a little hysterical.

“Then why would he offer to help me to get with you?”

Orym stares at Dorian for a full thirty seconds. Then he sighs.

“I guess it’s a little hard to... fathom... what goes on in Dariax’ head.”

“That seems like an understatement.”

Orym scoffs and shakes his head with half a smile on his face.

“I can’t believe you actually fell for—that.”

“Hey!”

“Sorry. I guess to each their own.”

“So what’s your type then?”

“Uh—I don’t really have a type. I’m not into the whole relationship stuff. Or—uh. The sex stuff, for that matter.”

“Oh. Oh! I see. Well, that seems pretty convenient. Way less stressful than what I’m doing with my life.”

Orym smiles and shakes his head again.

“I’m not going to lie, when I’m watching you and Dariax or Opal and Fearne I am glad that I don’t have to deal with any of it”, Orym admits.

“Opal and Fearne? How do you mean?”, Dorian asks. His brain is still stuck on kissing Dariax without Orym even being in any close proximity. His whole brain capacity seems to be occupied by thinking about Dariax. It’s an absolute clusterfuck.

“Never mind. So, what do you intend to do? You can’t keep this up forever”, Orym says and pulls Dorian away from a trail of thoughts that was leading towards something explicit and utterly unbefitting of a talk with a good friend about feelings.

“I—uh. I’m still figuring it out. I’ll just. You know, I could just tell him that I’m not into you anymore and then he would probably stop”, Dorian says and ignores the uncomfortable tightness of his chest as he thinks about not being able to kiss Dariax anymore. Or hold his hand. Or being told that he’s beautiful.

He’s so fucked.

“I think you should just tell him, you know? We’re adventurers now, no one knows what might happen. If I learned anything from our Voice of the Tempest, it’s that you should do your best to live without any regrets, because time is a precious thing”, Orym says.

“A weird soup”, Dorian answers, his voice weak and his heart hurting. Orym snorts.

“Yes, sure. A weird, precious soup. Anyway. Think about it, okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

*

Something is up with Dariax.

Dorian has no idea what it is, but there is definitely something wrong.

He’s quieter than usual, which is disconcerting. He’s also, very definitely, holding onto Dorian’s hand way tighter than before.

“Hey, is everything alright?”, Dorian asks him quietly as they’re getting ready for the night. The sky overhead is dark and full of clouds and the moon is barely visible.

“Yeah, sure. Stellar”, Dariax says but he’s not looking at Dorian.

“You don’t look stellar”, Dorian insists and puts his hand on Dariax’ shoulder. Dariax’ eyes flicker down to his hand and then up to his face. Dariax opens his mouth to answer, but Dorian doesn’t hear anything because there is a searing pain on his back and he slumps forward and crumples onto his knees.

His vision goes blurry from the pain and he can feel that there is something coursing through his body. It hurts.

“Dorian? Dorian!”

Lying down seems like a great idea. What if he dies now and he didn’t even tell Dariax that he’s not into Orym? What if his adventure ends here already? He doesn’t want to sink into the weird soup that is time already. He wants…

“Take your hands off my boyfriend, you fuckers!”

“Hey! What’s going on?”

“Dorian, are you okay?”

He is definitely not okay and while he probably should have different priorities as he’s bleeding out in the grass, all he can think about is the fact that Dariax just called him his boyfriend.

“Dorian, are you okay?”, Dariax’ voice sounds muffled and far away.

“Heh. You’re really good at pretending”, he lulls as he’s turned onto his back to look up at Dariax’ face.

“What? Guys, I think he has a concussion or something!”

“Well, heal him!”

“I’m trying! Dorian, hey! Buddy, don’t pass out on me, okay?”

“Did you know that your eyes are really pretty?”, Dorian slurs and he wants to raise a hand to touch Dariax’ face that seems way too red all of a sudden, but he can’t move a muscle and as he feels Dariax’ warm healing magic flow into him, he passes out from the mind-numbing pain.

*

Dorian has never shared a bed with anyone. Neither in a platonic nor in a romantic or sexual way.

When he wakes up there is someone plastered to his side. The quiet snoring tells him that it must be Dariax.

“Are you okay, Dorian?”, Fearne’s soft voice reaches his ears and he turns his head to see her sit on his other side, her hand places closed to his shoulder as if to make sure that he’s within reach.

“Uh—ow. Yeah. What happened?”

Dorian tries to concentrate on his own body and on Fearne’s words, but he’s distracted by the feeling of Dariax sleeping so close to him. His arm is thrown over Dorian’s chest and his face is pressed into Dorian’s shoulder. Orym is nowhere to be seen.

“Those Nameless Ones seem to have a pretty far reach. They really want that spider crown.”

Dorian groans as he tries to move.

“They hit me with poison or something?”

“Yeah. Dariax fixed it. Then he insisted on carrying you back to the cart. Then he insisted to tuck you into bed. And then he just sort of flopped down next to you and stared at you really intensely until he passed out.”

Dorian tries to laugh but almost chokes on it as he imagines this short man trying to carry someone as tall as Dorian. His thoughts circle around the fact that Dariax cared for him, healed him, tucked him into bed.

“So. Ah—where are Orym and Opal?”, he asks to distract himself from the feeling of having Dariax pressed so close to him.

“They’re checking to see if we’ll be safe for the night. I just wanted to make sure that you were okay.”

“That’s very kind of you.”

Fearne smiles down at him and starts scratching Little Mister under the chin as she hums a melody that Dorian’s never heard before.

“Did you ever have a really dumb crush?”, he asks before he can stop himself. Fearne turns her head to look at him again and cocks her head.

“A crush that was dumb because it wasn’t mutual or a crush that was dumb because the person was dumb?”, she wants to know.

“Ah. Huh—I haven’t thought about it that way. I guess… how about we go with both?”

Fearne puts her index fingers to her lips and cocks her head from side to side as she thinks about it.

“Well, I don’t think crushes are dumb just because they aren’t mutual. And I also think that Opal is very intelligent in her own, special way.”

Dorian blinks.

“Wait. What?”

“Hm?”

“You have a crush on Opal?”

“Sure. I thought it was pretty obvious”, Fearne says and smiles dreamily.

“Uh—maybe. Now that you mention it, I think Orym clocked it.”

“She is just. You know. Very exciting and spontaneous and funny and creative and pretty.”

The way that Fearne just talks about her crush makes Dorian wonder why he isn’t able to just say it like this. That he likes Dariax because he’s funny and brave and adventurous and a complete idiot in a lovable kind of way.

“What do you like about Dariax?”, Fearne wants to know.

“Uh—well”, he laughs nervously and clears his throat. Dariax is still softly snoring into his shoulder. “I guess… I guess pretty much everything?”

“That’s so sweet! And that’s what he said too. You guys just fit so well”, Fearne says with an earnest smile.

“Wait. What?”

“Hm?”

“What did you just say?”

“I said that you guys fit really well.”

“No. No, I meant before that.”

“Uh—well, when I asked him what he liked most about you, he also said that he likes everything about you. I thought it was really sweet, you know? There was a whole list of things, but he stopped midway through it and said ‘So basically, everything’.”

There was a whole list of things.

A list.

 “So basically, everything.”

“Dorian? Are you really okay? You look a little flushed.”

“Hm? Oh—yeah. I’m fine. Perfect. Peachy. Never better.”

He laughs nervously and glances over at Dariax as his insides dissolve into small, hyperactive butterflies. Maybe it’s not what he thinks. Maybe Dariax meant that he likes everything about Dorian as a friend.

“If you’re sure you’re okay I think I’ll stretch my legs a little bit. This cart is pretty small”, Fearne says and scoots towards the exit of the cart. Little Mister follows behind her and a moment later Dorian is alone with a snoring Dariax, whose hand has somehow managed to sneak under Dorian’s shirt.

What is he supposed to do now?

Wake Dariax up? Confess his feelings?

His heart beats so quickly that Dorian is almost afraid that it might just leap out of his rib cage. In the end he’s not brave enough to wake Dariax up and instead intertwines their fingers and turns his head to look at Dariax who has definitely drooled onto his shirt.

He knows that he’s completely fucked because he thinks that this is endearing.

Dorian raises his arm and gently cards his hand through Dariax’ hair.

Dariax makes a small sound in his sleep, something that sounds like a content sigh, and the butterflies in Dorian’s stomach start dancing happily.

“D’you really think my eyes are pretty?”, Dariax mumbles a second later and Dorian pulls his hand away hastily as Dariax’ eyes open.

“Um—well. Yeah. They’re… they have a very nice color”, Dorian croaks. Dariax pulls his hand out from under Dorian’s shirt and starts rubbing at his eyes.

“You okay again?”

“Yeah. Thank you for saving me. And carrying me to the cart. And—uh. Tucking me in.”

Dariax’ cheeks redden as he coughs slightly before sitting up.

“Well, you know. It’s what boyfriends are for, right?”, Dariax says with half a laugh in his voice that doesn’t sound completely genuine.

Dorian swallows and bites his bottom lip as he tries to find the words. He’s usually not bad at talking, so why does this seem so endlessly hard?

“So—uh. I have something to confess”, he starts as his thoughts start spinning around in panicked circles. Dariax turns his head to look down at him.

“I know, I know”, he answers.

“Huh?”

“Well, I figured, you know. When Orym dragged you away I thought you guys probably had a talk?”

“We did, yeah”, Dorian says but he is endlessly confused about what that has to do with anything.

“See, I knew it. So you think it finally started working, huh? Told you, I’m really good at this kind of stuff.”

Dorian decides that he has to sit up for this. His head is spinning and his heart is racing and he is endlessly confused about what in the ever-loving hell is going on.

“Working? What are you talking about?”

“You know, the jealousy thing.”

Dorian stares at him.

Then it finally clicks.

“Dariax… I don’t want to be fake boyfriends anymore”, he says quietly before he can think of a better way to say it. Dariax’ expression twists and he looks away, his hand reaching for the back of his head to scratch at his scalp—a sign for nervousness, as Dorian knows by now.

“Yeah. Okay. I—uh. That’s—“

“I want to be your real boyfriend.”

Dariax blinks a few times. Then his face turns the deepest shade of red that Dorian has ever seen on him.

“You—what?”

“I don’t like Orym. I never have. Not like that. I—uh. I like you. And when—if—I kiss you again I don’t want it to be just pretend, I want to really kiss you. Because I—uh. I really like kissing you.”

Dariax is still staring at him, seemingly stunned. The hand at the back of his head has stopped moving and started to sink slowly back into Dariax’ lap.

“So…”, Dorian says and the nervous energy humming under his skin is almost unbearable, “can I? Can I… kiss you? For real?”

If Dariax doesn’t say anything soon Dorian might have to flee from the cart and actually leave the country. The suspense is torturous, his words hang heavy in the air between them. And then, faster than Dorian can react, Dariax lounges himself at Dorian and kisses him so passionately that Dorian can’t suppress the moan that escapes him.

Dariax pushes at him, shoves Dorian back down onto the bedroll, sinks one hand into Dorian’s long hair and cups his face with the other.

Dorian’s brain goes blank as he arches up against Dariax’ weight on top of him.

“So, is that a yes?”, he pants into the kiss.

“Yes. Yes, yes, yes”, Dariax rasps and kisses him again. “Gods, you’re so pretty. I thought I was going to go insane.”

Dorian makes a very embarrassing noise somewhere between a moan and a whimper. Maybe he likes those compliments more than a normal person would.

“So you like me?”

“Are you kidding me? So fucking much.”

Dariax is kissing his whole face now and Dorian wraps his arms around him. He feels light as a feather and the butterflies in his stomach have gone completely off the rails.

“Are you guys decent?”, Opal shouts from outside the cart.

“No! Go away! I want to make out with my boyfriend!”, Dariax shouts back and Dorian laughs.

“Don’t leave any icky spots though!”, Opal says.

“Oh, come on”, Dorian hears Orym protest.

“That’s what Prestidigitation is for, Opal! Read a book about magic!”, Dariax announces loudly and Dorian has no time to protest this obscene exchange because Dariax is kissing him again and Orym seems to be dragging Opal away from the cart.

“So do you know what that means?”, Dorian mumbles against Dariax’ lips.

“Hm?”

“I don’t need any flirting lessons from you after all.”

#critfic #exandria unlimited #exu #exu fic #dorian storm #dariax zaveon #fanfiction #mi writes #critical role #doriax #text #screeching into the void #this is 7k words of chaotic fake dating ooops