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bkgml · 9 months

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pro hero kats having to do an interview when he’s sick because he signed a contract.

i just know he’s so baby when he gets sick because of that only child syndrome he’s been stuck with. he gets really needy and just wants to be around you. give him love pls.

maybe it’s one of those interviews with the boards that have the peel off stickies on them where he answers questions about himself and his life.

idk whatever u guys think!

he doesn’t want to go.

“baby?” you ask gently and only get a grumble in response.

your hands drift over to trace the muscles on his back. you’re sat up against the headboard on your phone and he’s laying on his stomach with his head on your lap and he’s got his arms wrapped around you.

when you guys woke up this morning you’d planned to walk around the city you’re in, grab lunch and maybe do some shopping before going in for his interview.

but katsuki unexpectedly woke up with a fever and a stuffy nose.

so instead, your day has been filled with tylenol and naps.

“i know you don’t feel well but it’s time to get up.” you say gently, caressing his back while you speak and finishing with a tap on his shoulder to signal him to sit up.

“i don’t want to fucking go to this shitty interview.” he bites. it’s not directed at you and it’s clear from the way he nestles himself deeper into your plush thighs as he speaks.

you lean forward to press kisses to his warm forehead.

“i know,” you coo.

“but you have to. i’ll get you some more medicine before you go, okay?” you murmur against his temple.

he huffs but peels his eyes open anyway, shifting to rest his chin on your thigh while looking up at you.

“you’re not coming with me?” he replies with an unknown quietness, a hint of desperation slipping through.

you smile and kiss his forehead again.

“do you want me to?” you ask and he nods gently before shifting to press kisses along your bare thigh.

“okay.” you whisper.

“we need to get up now though.” you say and he grumbles but stands with you anyway.

the two of you get ready together-slowly but surely, and head out the door.

when the two of you arrive it’s obvious to everyone on set that katsuki’s more annoyed then usual.

his brows are furrowed so deep they practically cover his eyes, and he’s covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

you explain the situation and the crew agrees to keep this as quick as possible for him.

he puts on his brave face for the camera, goes through about one board in between each cut where he gets a five minute break.

“cut! thanks dynamite, take a five minute break.” the director calls out and you walk to where he’s slumped in his chair, pout on his face.

“hi, handsome.” you smile.

“what do you need? tylenol?” you ask and he shakes his head.

“water?” another shake of his head.

“do you want me to get you a cool towel for your head?” and he shakes his head once more.

“what do you need?” he ask gently.

his hand reaches out for you, misses once and after seeing his brows furrow in frustration you step forward.

the second time he reaches for you he gets a hold on your elbow and drags you forward until your thighs are touching his knees.

he sighs and allows himself to fall forward until his forehead is planted on your shoulder.

you breathe out a laugh and his arms come up to hold you around the waist.

you just stand there and let him do his thing.

every once in while you let your hand travel up and down his back. sometimes you’ll let it slip into his hair, scratching gently.

he lets out sighs and little grunts in reply when you ask him questions. he’s just breathing and hoping the director never yells action again.

“alright everyone, breaks over!” the director shouts and katsuki’s arms tighten around you because he was honestly starting to drift off, but he lets you go anyway so this can be over with.

he does two more boards where he answers questions about pro hero life and the rare question about his childhood and some about you.

there’s a 45 minute dinner break and katsuki spends it in his dressing room.

there’s a couch in there and he wants his half hour power nap.

“here take a tylenol before going to bed.” you say and he pops the pill before laying down and attempting to drag you with him.

“i’m going to get you a cold towel, i’ll be back.”

he groans when you leave but if he’s being honest a cold towel does sound really good.

“hi, i’m back!” you announce while walking back into the room.

when you get close enough his big hands snatch you by the waist and lifts you to straddle him while he lays on the couch.

you giggle and place the towel over his forehead.

“god, your makeup team is going to kill me.” you sigh.

he shuts his eyes and drags his hands up and down your thighs.

“don’t care. i’ll tell them i asked for it.” he mumbles, already drifting off.

“okay.” you whisper.

his power nap did not help him much and in fact probably made him a bit worse.

but you just reminded him that the quicker he got through this, the quicker you guys could go back to the hotel and sleep until morning.

he got through it. had to have little breaks for water and hugs, but he still did it.

when the two of you get home from the trip there’s edits popping up everywhere of the two of you on set.

“katsuki bakugou needing cuddles while he’s sick.”

“pro hero dynamite being in love with his girl for ten minutes straight.”

and all of the comments are filled with shit like,

katsufan118: can he look at me like that?

dynamiteloverrr836: why is he so cute with her

ynnkats4life: my fav relationship

katsuki frowns like his reputation has been completely ruined.

“kats they’re not wrong.” you smile and he grumbles but secretly agrees with you.

“who the fuck filmed us? ‘m getting them fired.” he says.

you slap his chest lightly.

“katsuki! don’t. they’re doing gods work here. i get a compilation of you being all needy.” you smile brightly.

he argues with you playfully but he can agree it’s not all bad.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou fluff #bakugou x you #bakugou x yn #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader

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coolshadowtwins · 2 months

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SVSSS fanfic that I will never write-

LBH post canon accidently goes back in time. How? I don’t know, it isn’t important. If I had to pick a stupid reason, then in PIDW had a storyline where LBH went back in time to a wife’s past to like… learn more about her? To help her in the trauma? IDK but what I do know is that Peerless Cucumber would have ranged for hours about Airplane adding in the concept of time travel and then doing nothing else’s with it.

And guess who the subject of the wife plot is now??? That’s right- SQQ. Except the wife plot took the body and not the soul, and now Binghe is back during SJ’s disciple days.

LBH somehow, as the main character, manages to convince the peak lords of the time that he’s of Qing Jing! He is, really! He really laid on the charm here.

Previous Sect leader: I don’t know if I believe you, but since you look like such a polite young man-

LBH gets escorted away to a room by the head disciple. And who is the head disciple of the sect leader peak??? It’s Yue Qi, sad and depressed and lifeless because LBH managed to find himself in the period of time where YQY thinks SJ is dead!

LBH: I want to meet my young Shizun. Shen Qingqiu- Shen Jiu I think now?

YQY: …. Xiao Jiu is dead?

LBH: Maybe in the future for like five years but not right now!! He’s my super awesome Shizun! …. Do you want to drop everything to go look for him?

YQY: Oh boy, do I!!!

So the two bounce from the sect with no warning, looking Shen Jiu. Luckily, now knowing that he is alive and didn’t die in the fire, it’s pretty easy to follow the line of gossip that follows WY and SJ. And of course, the entire time, LBH is praising his Shizun.

Now, he hasn’t said that he was married to his Shizun. He didn’t want to spoil that just yet! He’ll reveal that to his younger Shizun himself when they find him. But until then, he can still tell YQY how awesome his Shizun is, and how nice, and how close he was to SQH and LQG and even to YQY himself! (That last one was a bit of a fib, of course. SQQ was always a little uncomfortable around the sect leader. But YQY was eating all of this up, being so happy that his childhood friend was so happy and well liked, and well…. It was only a small fib)

They finally catches up with them, and quickly dealing with the other guy, YQY and SJ have a nice reunion, having both think the other was dead! And of course, it was incredibly clear that YQY had been looking for SJ this whole time, which does wonders for his abandonment issues. SJ may yell at YQY for leaving the sect so suddenly and risking everything just for him, but on the inside, he is bursting for joy, trust me.

LBH is not bursting for joy. Like, at all. He had been so excited to see his Shizun but young and now that he’s here…. Something inside of him and screaming that this wasn’t his Shizun.

He had no reason to believe that. This was very clearly SQQ at 14~. But of course, he’s the 200 IQ protagonist and figures it out quickly that his wonderful Shizun/husband took over his body when LBH was 14 and that this was his shitty Shizun that made his early years in the sect awful.

He’s fully ok with that. If his husband needs to possess another man to be with him, than who is LBH to judge? Only the best body for him! The problem is, of course, that he has spent the entire trip over ranting to YQY about how good of a teacher SQQ was to him, and now YQY is excitedly telling everything he said to SJ. LBH can’t just…. Back track now! That would be weird, and if they think that someone will possess SJ later, then what if his husband never shows up??

So he goes along with it. It isn’t hard- he doesn’t hate SJ, not like PIDW him would. He was only under him for three years~ and a lot of what happened to him was still being justified in his head. So it’s just… whatever, to him at that point. He confirms what YQY had been saying, spins a charismatic lie to the sect about why they left and how GREAT SJ will be as a disciple in the future, and then he leaves. Just, fades away in front of everyone.

And now this is SJ’s life. He thinks he’s a good Shizun in the future, even if he can’t stand kids. He think that he becomes friends with SQH and LQG, which is oddly hard to do?? LQG angrily wants to fight him every time he sees him, which is super annoying, and SJ is 88% sure that SQH is talking to demons but, you know. If another version of him managed to become their friend without future knowledge, then he has to do it now! He has a head start on the race here, no way is he losing it!

He does become friends with them, and is still incredibly close to YQY as they grow up. He’s still… him, but his major heart demons- the abandonment by his Qi-Ge and being unsafe even in the sect- aren’t there anymore. He even manages to be an ok Shizun to a young LBH, somehow. He’s pretty sure that he’s sucking at that, btw, because the little brat gets on his nerves when they are in the same room for more than five minutes, but he’s being mostly polite! He had to wonder what the other version of him did to get such a glowing review from the future version of his disciple, because it has to be more than this.

Ironically, because I think it’s funny, this is the timeline that our LBH finds himself back in. The time travel was always meant to be a stable one timeline kinda thing, so anything he changed in the past affected the future. I imagine in PIDW that LBG didn’t do much of anything but maybe comfort his future wife, for Airplane’s fear of making a confusing paradox for himself. But this Binghe? Oh no, he did so much!

Because he saved SJ some heart demons, and helped him make friends despite his trauma, he’s not as prone to Qi divinations! Which means that he didn’t have a fatal one when LBH was 14! Which means when LBH gets back to his time after all of that, he takes one look at his ‘Shizun’ and knows that this isn’t his husband. Which means that his husband never possessed SJ!

He’s horrified, and spends a whole day moping around the peak, trying to think of ways to fix this. He has just gotten himself worked up to go and do something drastic when NYY finds him.

NYY: There you are!! Shen-Shidi has been looking for you all day!

LBH: H-huh?

NYY: Why are you moping around, huh? Did you and Shen-Shidi have a fight? Don’t worry! He’s your husband, I know he’ll forgive you-!

LBH: WHAT.

And that’s how he learns that while he isn’t married to his Shizun in this timeline, he is married to his Shixiong, Shen Yuan! Shen Yuan, who got shoved in Willy nilly when the system realized that SJ wasn’t going to die when he was supposed to.

There’s probably some sequel where LBH has to fake that he has memories of what happened in this timeline, which I imagine is somewhat close to Svsss? The system was still running around, even if a major player has changed. And LBH would just be so bad at faking it in front of two people and two people only- SJ and SY.

SY: Binghe, don’t you remember our first date? :)

LBH: …It wasn’t the water prison!

SY: ….that statement is correct but also the wrong answer.

And

SJ: Beast, you’re not coming to this Immortal Convenance. Don’t you remember meber what happened last time?

LBH: …. You didn’t push me into the endless abyss?

SJ:… That statement is wrong and I was also going for the HHP tag alongs you obtained.

#svsss #svsss au #time travel #fanfic concept #luo binghe #shen yuan #shen jiu #shen qingqiu #yue qingyuan #liu qingge #shang qinghua #ning yingying

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good-chimes · 10 months

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Proposing:

Grand Unified Scarian Theory

a single, overarching Scarian romance arc across the whole Hermitcraft and Life series as well as a primer for anyone curious about the early seasons.

We start with NEIGHBOR MEET CUTE in early Season 6:

Season 6 begins in a peaceful pirate bay. SCAR, an established hermit just beginning his third season, is happily making pirate caves. Into this tranquil scene comes GRIAN.

Grian, fresh-faced and new to Hermitcraft, picks a sea-themed base location right next to Scar’s pirate caves. He gets himself set up and starts his base. Even someone like Grian can get newcomer nerves, and he spends the first few weeks desperately trying to act like a normal person instead of the horrible gremlin he really is.

(Some hermits are taken in by this. Doc and Xisuma give him pity diamonds, something that—after getting to know Grian—they noticeably never do again.)

The only person exempt from Grian’s just-a-little-birthday-boy act is Mumbo, whom Grian already knows, clearly has a puppy-crush on, and pursues relentlessly.

Grian and Scar don’t interact much at first. Grian sees Scar for the first time while passing by his base. Scar instantly falls in one of his own caves and dies.

Grian panics.

Grian: I DIDN’T DO IT!

Scar, intrigued by his new neighbor, makes some overtures of interest:

1. Scar leaves a fully enchanted trident at Grian’s base as a welcome present. This is a generous gift for the cute neighbor you have a crush on and frankly the most normal thing either of them do in the entire years-long relationship.

Grian goes ‘huh!’ at the trident, never finds out who sent it, and immediately forgets the whole thing.

2. Scar entertains Grian’s traveling-salesman pitch and buys his overpriced armor boxes.

Multiple jokes about the size of Scar’s wallet. Grian clearly pleased by the transaction.

3. Scar makes Grian a complementary in-joke build (Spongebob’s house by Squidward’s house).

This delights Grian immeasurably for five minutes until he turns back to his prank war with Mumbo.

(Poor Mumbo. Clearly immensely fond of Grian but not sure he wants to be in a relationship with a lit stick of dynamite. This is very understandable.)

By this point Scar obviously kind of clocks that Grian is insane about Mumbo. This isn’t much of a leap. The entire SERVER is aware that Grian is horribly in love with Mumbo.

Ah. That’s okay. Scar backs off a bit. He recognizes when he’s not really in with a chance.

Maybe this thing he has with Grian is just going to be a friendship, and that’s okay! Having a crush is fun even if you’re not going to do anything about it. Scar is going to build some shops about it and be normal.

Both of them are going to be very normal.

FLIRTING (First Stages) – mid-Season 6

Both of them immediately forget to be normal.

Grian has started a detective agency and has no mysteries to solve. Scar instantly invents a cookie-based mystery supervillain called the Jangler and leaves Grian a series of tantalizing cookie-based puzzles for enrichment in his enclosure.

Grian has invented a game where you kill people with rockets. Scar volunteers to get murdered. Both of them are delighted.

Scar and Cub’s business empire is incidentally crushing Grian’s startup venture. There is no reason for this to be so flirtatiously charged.

At this point all the hermits move to a new village because of the Minecraft update. Grian starts a who-can-build-the-tallest-house war with Mumbo and Iskall. Scar notices and starts doing the same from the other side of the village.

It quickly gets so wild that Mumbo taps out (Mumbo does not do well with intensity, would rather just not, thankyouverymuch), and it's only Grian, Iskall and Scar.

Scar builds a wild giant plant eating his rocketship, and then a castle in the sky, and an enormous version of himself firing a canon at Grian's house. This is the first time you can really see Grian trying to hold in shrieks when he flies back in to see what Scar has done while he's gone.

Grian’s interest has been caught. He’s gone from barely seeing Scar to checking on him regularly. What’s our good friend Scar up to? What’s Scar done? What is Scar going to do next?

FLIRTING (How To Catch Your Crush’s Interest By Building A Secret Government Facility) – late Season 6

What Scar does next is put on a snazzy military uniform, team up with Doc to steal the time machine Grian invented last week, then, in the most effort someone has EVER gone to to get Grian's attention, spend weeks on end building a fully-functional 'Area 77' military base and containment facility to stop him getting it back.

Turns out this works beyond Scar’s wildest dreams.

Grian INSTANTLY obsessed with breaking into Scar’s base and retrieving his time machine.

Grian persuades Ren into forming a hippie camp with him next to the base and spends weeks entirely fixated on Scar. Meanwhile Scar, who is starting to really understand how to get and keep Grian's attention, builds more and fancier infrastructure to keep Grian out. This is also where Grian really starts looking at Scar's art—the insane cliffs Scar has build around his new hangers—and awkwardly not quite managing words, because it would be very embarrassing to just outright say the word beautiful, and Grian’s a very normal and non-embarrassing person.

In the climax of the season, Grian-the-hippie breaks into General Scar’s base.

Nobody can say that Scar making himself a top brass general and Grian making himself an anti-establishment flower power hippie does not end up with plausibly-deniable not-making-out Grian-provoking-Scar-into-holding-him-against-a-wall.

but.

BUT.

This is Hermitcraft. It’s temporary. Scar and Grian both know it was a bit. A bit they both got super into, sure! But a bit. Not weird at all.

(“Sure, mate, not weird at all,” Mumbo says, after all of this is over. “Then why are you making it SOUND weird Mumbo you’re the WORST”)*

(“Sooo....” Cub says, and Scar says, “I know. I know!”)*

*not canon but you can't tell me it didn't happen off screen

FLIRTING (But What About…) – early Season 7

Okay, so that was weird, but Grian is definitely still in love with Mumbo. The Mumbo pursuit is going great and Mumbo definitely doesn’t look nervous whenever Grian turns up with a new idea. Grian is going to get Mumbo to fall in love with him and they will marry in the spring and have a dozen beautiful children redstone contraptions.

Grian attempts to make it more official with Mumbo. Surely they have been flirting long enough, they are ready for the next stage! This is in no way a reaction to Scar becoming a weird wizard in a way very unsettling to Grian and building the kind of wild organic tangled forest build that Grian is fascinated by but can't even begin to comprehend.

Everything is very under control in Grian's life. He's now official boyfriends with Mumbo. They live together and have a messaging system and everything.

Mumbo announces he’s moving out.

It’s-not-you-it’s-me

You’re… you’re moving out? Grian says, in the smallest possible voice.

We’ll still have the messaging system, Mumbo says, unconvincingly.

FINE, Grian says, I’m moving out TOO.

Mumbo moves out.

Grian deals with this in the healthiest possible way. He invents a mayorship and attempts to give it to Mumbo.

Grian is Mumbo’s self-appointed campaign manager so Mumbo has to be round him ALL THE TIME, it’s for the CAMPAIGN, Mumbo.

Mumbo, a man who doesn’t deal well with pressure or responsibility, is maybe not the ideal choice for mayor, something that has escaped Grian entirely.

Mumbo builds a robot and attempts to palm off all responsibility for decision-making onto it. Grian immediately calls it their son.

Grian puts his moustache all over the server.

NO other hermits support them for mayor (except Scar, from a lost bet, who Grian has continued to have intensely weird flirtations with while all this is happening)

Things reach a fever pitch. Election day arrives. Mumbo doesn’t want this actually but try telling Grian that. The entire MumboGrian edifice that Grian has obsessively and wildly build has reached an unsustainable pitch and finally comes tumbling down around them.

Mumbo votes Scar for mayor.

Grian votes Scar for mayor.

Mumbo disappears for several weeks to do some nice soothing redstone and calm down.

FLIRTING (Civil War) – late Season 7

Everything has calmed down now. Scar is mayor. Mumbo is...somewhere. Grian is going to work on his base normally.

Grian has a new project. He wants to build in the new nether biomes. He builds a huge and echoing and obsessively inverse version of his huge and echoing and obsessively symmetrical mansion base. It's very impressive. It's totally hollow. There's... no one else here.

Grian decides that okay, he is going to bring PEOPLE here.

He invites Mumbo, because he hasn't seen him in weeks. He invites Bdubs, because Grian above all loves genius. And he invites Scar. Because of course. Everything major Grian does now, Scar is an of course.

Bdubs shows up! Generously builds Grian's entire mansion interior. Mumbo shows up. Builds a tiny upside down disco shack.

Scar does not show up.

Scar is being mayor! Scar is a very busy and important man! Scar has spent the last few weeks obsessively replacing every single goddamn mycelium block in the shopping district with beautifully tailored grass and making trees whose flowers are diamonds. He's also got his own megabase going on. For once Scar has so much to do it's even enough for Scar's ambitions, which have never been small.

He does not come when Grian calls.

Grian is Not Happy.

This is the point where Grian starts a steadily more unhinged campaign of leaving Scar invitations. He makes little tailor's dummies of himself and delivers them to Scar's house. He sets up a tea party of three grians in a secret space under Scar's mayoral throne. He hangs himself in effigy on the tip of Scar's megadrill build. Normal behavior.

And then when Scar still doesn't notice, he puts a tiny bit of mycelium back on one of the streets of the shopping district.

This starts… THE MYCELIUM WARS

Scar attempts to contain the growing mycelium patch with warning tape.

Grian spreads more mushroom spores.

Scar brings in his allies to help contain the growing mushroom patches.

Grian digs out an underground rebel HQ, recruits several rebels, and declares himself Motherspore.

Mayor Scar stares into a camera and uses his most velvety baritone to proclaim he will hunt down Grian and the mycelium resistance and bring them to justice.

Grian sets loose mushroom-spreading sheep.

Mayor Scar obsessively searches for his base.

Grian and Impulse build several decoy bases and trap them.

Mayor Scar employs Mumbo to strip-mine every block of the shopping district with redstone tunnel-borers.

Eventually Deputy Mayor Bdubs, having his own thing with rebel Etho, tricks all of the resistance into ender-pearling into jail.

Scar gets to threaten to pour lava on an imprisoned Grian for ten minutes straight and they’re both enjoying this so much.

Grian: Scar! SCAR! Scar Scar Scar no Scar no Scar no listen Scar

Scar: Yes?

Grian: …Let’s take this somewhere else.

They ‘take this’ to Scar’s beautifully-appointed mayoral office. Grian sits on the arm of his chair (I don’t know what to tell you, this is on-screen canon).

Grian: So I know how to end the war.

Grian: We have to play minigames and make personal bets.

Grian: And Scar, Scar, if you lose…

Scar: Yes?

Grian: … you have to help build my base.

Entire room: [stunned silence]

Etho: Is this what it was about the whole time, Grian?

So! That happened. And the thing is, they could both mentally pass off the area 77 general/hippie stuff as Just A Fun Bit That Got Very Intense.

They can't do this with the mayor/motherspore stuff. They are basically making out on Scar’s chair. The resistance have noticed. The mayoral staff have noticed. EVERYONE has noticed.

Scar is into it. Scar is going along with it. Scar knows he’d had a crush for a long time, and he isn't scared of swimming with a huge wave, never mind where it's going to break. Scar has always embraced the rush. With Grian, you never know what’s going to happen next.

Grian has always loved being around Scar because there’s so much going on that you don’t have to think. Grian doesn’t have to think until everything’s calmed down. It's not until now that he stops and realizes… could this be… something.

(Maybe it already is.)

And then, by whatever eldritch mechanic you personally favor:

3rd life begins.

HEAD-OVER-HEELS – Third Life

In the tiny claustrophobic stripped-bare world of Third Life, Grian makes a choice. Grian thinks, for once very, very clearly: what if it wasn't a bit? What if it was real. What if Grian took every explosive piece of who he was and handed it over to someone he's—okay, he'll admit it—someone he's been obsessed with for a long time. What if that heady sparkle he's been seeing in the corner of his vision is true. What happens if you grab it with both hands?

Scar—surprised, bemused, amazed but wrong-footed—almost doesn't know what to DO with this.

Scar is so used to Grian layering all his obsession behind a thick layer of irony and drama and second-guessing and schemes. ‘Sure we can make out but only if I'm trailing mushroom spores and you're wearing that sash.’ ‘I'm only here because Mumbo's not around.’ ‘It’s not a thing.’ ‘It's not real.’

But it is real.

And, for once, Scar hears a tiny alarm go off in his brain. Scar knows Grian better than anyone else does, by now, and even he doesn't know where this ends. Grian is a force of nature and Scar has never been his unfiltered target. But Grian's throwing himself into this, throwing himself at Scar. And Scar always says 'yes.' 'Yes, and.' 'Yes, let's'. Scar never wants less of Grian. Scar has always taken what he can get.

But with that warning bell, Scar does try to keep that slight layer of dramatic distance, even in this new world where you can die and not come back, even if they don't know if they'll get out of this alive. Scar doesn't fully buy into Grian's second-in-command-devotion, he forces a space for Grian to still be the Grian he knows, some kind of safety vent (‘here's a bee on a lead’). And it could be a lot of reasons, but part of it is…Grian's head-over-heels, for once, and Scar has the unfamiliar feeling of needing to be the one to look where they're going.

Because where they're going is: the last two, all their friends dead, not knowing if there's any way to survive but knowing their friends haven't come back, and at that point Scar takes off the very last of his brakes and the very last of his reservations and says:

For everything you've done for me you can kill me.

(I want this. I want it to be you.)

This breaks Grian absolutely and completely.

And not broken in the fun way! Grian is too far in. Grian let go of Mumbo, who was safe because Mumbo never let it get too far, and he took a risk on Scar, and now Grian is discovering that he didn’t even know what risk meant. Grian is in emotional pain he never suspected existed. Grian has let himself put all his gambling chips on someone who wasn't SAFE and he has lost.

Grian has LOST SCAR and he has LOST HIMSELF and he has FOUND OUT HE CAN BE HURT and he is never going to be the fucking same again.

Scar is in the pond with Grian’s sword at his unresisting neck. And Scar is going to die, and Scar (damn him damn him) has turned it into: he's going to die for Grian. Now Grian is hurting, he's complicit, it turns out grief is an inevitable part of love and beauty, this is all it's taken for Grian's worldview to fall apart in pieces he can't pick up, and Grian has no defenses against pain so there's obviously no way to cope except to beat Scar to death in a cactus ring and jump off a cliff.

AFTERMATH – Season 8

They wake up in Hermitcraft.

They wake up in Hermitcraft! Scar is delighted to find out they just reincarnate, after all that!

Sure, they've all got some lingering trauma but Scar has never let that stop him from doing anything. Scar thought that whole thing went well! He just about dares to think...romantic...? Maybe...?

Grian is Normal to him.

Grian is so fucking normal. it's like. s6 normal.

Scar is. kind of. confused.

Grian is NOT acting like someone he had a romantic death match with.

(Grian is falling apart, but if there's one thing Grian has proved in his building it’s that he’s SO. fucking. good. at facades.)

(Don't go round the back.)

Neither of them are ready for the death game to repeat.

DIVORCE (Traumatic) – Last Life, Season 8

Second death game. Grian deals with his trauma super well by isolating Scar, stealing all his friends, tricking a life out of him, dropping his horse in lava, forcing him into an extortion death loop, then abandoning him and—just as a bonus—murdering Mumbo as well.

This time it’s Scar who comes back falling apart.

A theory that seems plausible: Scar’s old friend Cub picks him up, puts him back together, gets him on his feet. What we do know is that Cub moves in next to Boatem, where Scar is still living with Grian, and incidentally builds an enormous dripstone megabiome that is coincidentally very hostile and might murder you upon landing if you're someone who flies a lot, or happens to be a bird.

There’s a hole with an endless dark void between Scar and Grian’s Boatem bases. They built it together. It’s around this time they both keep repeatedly falling in it.

DIVORCE (But When It Was Good It Was So Good) – Season 8, Double Life

Then the moon gets big. Gets close. Gravity breaks down and that should be the end, should be a way out of this terrible spiral they're in, surely they're better without each other—

Grian turns up at Scar's base and says: Scar. Build us an escape pod.

—and Scar does.

They go out together. Both of them can feel the pull back into each other’s orbit but they’ll die if they acknowledge it. At the end of it all, the void, the protective suits, the unbearable gravity of falling into space together, of holding each other until another uncertain end. They're nowhere but they're in it together.

Is this a good time for another death game? Of course. How much worse can it get.

Double Life, and this time Scar keeps his distance. My soulmate is this allay! My soulmate is my cat! I don’t need a soulmate. Oh—it’s Grian? This whole time? Hahaha. How funny.

Grian: Soo… do you want to base together?

Scar: Do we have to?

Grian: It…might be nice…?

Scar is wary.

He has been burned.

But the pull is still there. The pull is always there. You can’t forget Grian, but you can blunt the edge of him on your skin. Scar is here to take care of these cat-pandas. Grian can do what he likes.

Cheated of Scar’s full attention, Grian tries to tempt BigB into a pale imitation of the Scarian folie à deux (BigB is a genuinely nice man who does not deserve this).

The rest of the server turn red, one by one. Grian and Scar are the last greens. BigB is audibly nervous when Grian proposes a red-green alliance, even though BigB is the red, he has the power. But Grian can’t escape the rest of the server, and the red hunt begins.

Grian and Scar, hunted—trapped at the top of flaming towers, jumping from heights, chased down like foxes at bay, crammed into boltholes with their hands over each other’s mouths, Grian shrieks and laughs and falls back on Scar and Scar catches him and they’re both as alive and elated as they’ve ever been. Scar dies once to Ren and BigB’s zombies and Grian murders both BigB and Ren in revenge (BigB was right to be nervous). Grian has another unhinged murder plan underway when he dies for the last time.

This whole time, Grian was hit in the face by remembering that when it's good, it's so good.

Scar isn’t surprised. Scar has known that forever.

Back in Hermitcraft, its not magically fixed. They’re not innocent any more. But every time Grian looks at Scar he remembers: when it’s good, it’s so good.

And Scar never forgot.

DIVORCE (We’re In Love And We’re Not Done Yet) – Season 9, Limited Life

By now we're into Season 9. They’re still alive. They always live, they always start again, and the other one is just there. Being, infuriatingly and magnetically, them.

Grian is thoroughly annoyed by Scar’s new allegiance to King Ren, but he keeps coming back to Scarland anyway. Scar, I made you an obstacle course. Scar, stand here and get squashed by this anvil. Scar if you don’t do something I’m going to start a resistance.

Grian pretends King Ren doesn’t exist and he has more important things to do, and pretends this so hard that he incidentally invents a mad science robot pulls them all through into the Empires dimension.

Scar, assuming Grian is doing his own thing, shacks up with Jimmy.

It takes Grian three weeks to notice and be shriekingly outraged.

Scar we’re doing a project. Scar you can’t spend all your time with Jimmy! Join my cult. Get in my shrinking machine. I made you an enchanted netherite bow. I need your allegiance. (Another real quote).

Scar teases Grian for weeks then instantly abandons Jimmy when the choice comes down to him or Grian.

Fourth death game—they’re used to this, now. Nothing too intense. Nothing too weird. Grian can’t help murdering Scar.

At this point, Scar is starting to read it as: I love you.

And that’s how we get to the current Scarian dynamic we know and love of you're the worst and I'm the worst and we've divorced a few time but we still like each other so fucking much.

It's been years. They've killed each other every possible way. These two characters are in love and they're not done yet.

#scarian #grian #goodtimeswithscar #hermitshipping #yes canon IS a grand romantic arc #to be super clear: i don't think any of this was cc intention #but we can have a little narrative framing fun #as a treat #i think nearly all of this is true to canon except some timing vagueness and the dialogue in parentheses #thank you to the hivemind for theory help #long post #glossywrites

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bookofbonbon · 5 months

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strut: through a roundabout - coriolanus snow

Characters: Coriolanus Snow x Reader.

Warnings: Vehicular manslaughter- maybe.

Summary: You're always late to work and today was no different.

Word Count: 400+.

A/N: Inspired by one of my posts on my other blog @sihtriggyr. Enjoy!

You were late- again.

Three weeks under the tutelage of your infamous uncle and you could count on one hand the number of times you had arrived to work on time; your tardiness toward your employment quickly cementing itself as a bad habit you couldn't quite shake- not that you were trying to. Not really. As your uncle said, cars are a luxury few can afford, there is no traffic in the Capitol and yet you are always late.

You glance toward the digital numbers flashing on the dashboard, the clock telling you that you had ten minutes until sign on, however, given the snail pace that you were traveling you wouldn't arrive until five minutes after that.

You approach the unnecessarily large roundabout, merging smoothly into one of the several lanes. Pressing your foot down on the pedal, the vehicle lurches forward, steadily gaining speed. Today, you decide, would be the day you would arrive at work on time this week. The thought however, is quickly banished as you glimpse a flash of red in the middle of all of the lanes.

You slam urgently down on the brakes, steering wheel jerking to the side accompanied with the screech of tyres and the smell of burning rubber but, there's a loud thud anyway- you were too late; you had just hit a young man with your car.

Your heart pounds heavily in your ears, fear poisoning your chest and spreading through the rest of your body as you throw the car door open and run to the aid of the young man without a second thought for yourself.

He's on his side when you approach. Breath catching in your throat, you kneel behind him, instinctively pressing two fingers to his neck to check his pulse. It's faint but it's there and aside from his torn clothes and what looked to be a few scratches, the young man looked otherwise fine and you remember to breathe again.

With shaky hands, you ease the young man onto his back, a stab of annoyance replacing the fear that poisoned your chest as irritation begins to set in.

"What sort of idiot goes strutting through a roundabout?" you question angrily, fingers delicately brushing the centre of his palm.

So, finally you look at the young man- really look at him. Your nose wrinkles immediately, mouth twisting itself into a deep scowl at the familiar face.

Coriolanus Snow.

Coriolanus Snow is the sort of idiot who goes strutting through a roundabout.

Maybe you didn't feel so bad about hitting someone with your if it was him.

All fics are my own work - I have not posted my work anywhere else.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters/places mentioned above.

Do not copy. Do not translate. Do not repost.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coryo snow #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coryo snow x reader #tom blyth #coriolanus snow oneshot #coriolanus x you #coriolanus x reader

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its-all-stardust · 4 months

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Sugar || 3

Masterlist || Part Two || Part Four

Steven Grant/Sugar Mommy!Reader

Word count: 3.9k

Series Summary: You meet Steven in a museum gift shop and feel an instant connection. Before you walk out the door you decide, perhaps against your better judgment, that you need him to be your sugar baby. Now you just need him to let you treat him right.

A week goes by without a word from Steven. You told him to take his time; you expected him to. But that doesn’t stop you from thinking about him every day.

If he was going to say no, wouldn’t he have done it by now? Or he might not answer you at all. That, you think, is worse. You would rather know for sure than guess what the silence means.

You try not to feel disappointment for something that hasn’t even happened—technically, he hasn’t rejected you—but it still prowls in the back of your mind. You haven’t been this worried about something since your company got off the ground when everything was still uncertain, with no guarantee you could make a living.

You especially never felt this way about your other babies. The situations are entirely different. You didn’t have to worry about a referral rejecting you, not right out of the gate anyway. And all the ones you met through specific apps were the same: saying yes and figuring out if things worked as time went on. You at least had a couple of months with all your previous babies, each of you getting a feel for the other before mutually deciding to part ways for one reason or another.

And yet none of them were quite as unforgettable to you as Steven is. Try as you might, you still don’t understand how you’re so drawn to him. Maybe you see enough of yourself in him that you can’t help but want to take care of him, like how you wished someone had cared for you before you broke out and started making what would lead to your fortune.

But it means nothing if he says no. So, as much as you dislike it, you try to put him from your mind. You go about your days as usual, attending meetings, fielding phone calls from heads of different departments, approving the latest marketing budget, and finalizing every move your company makes to ensure you know exactly what is happening at all times. Technically, you don’t need to be as hands-on as you are. There are certainly other people in a similar position who aren’t. You could be on a beach somewhere, signing documents someone else has already read and approved for you. You could be the kind of CEO who never reads a thing and just puts your signature wherever you’re told. You would effectively be retired while still earning an ungodly amount of money.

But you can’t do that; you can’t stand not knowing what’s happening with something that is your responsibility. You don’t want to rest easy, and you like working. While you have plenty—more than enough, really—saved away in investments, trusts, and more than a few bank accounts, you know how easily everything can be taken away. It almost happened once in the beginning, and ever since, you’ve been trying to ensure it never happens again.

And for all your worries about the state of your business, you don’t let it cross over into your after-work hours. You would, quite frankly, go insane if you didn’t clock out promptly at five. If nothing is on fire, it can wait until the next business day. The meeting you had the day of your dinner with Steven was a rare exception, but even then it only ran a few minutes past before you shut it down. The rest of the time was spent traveling from your office building to the restaurant.

You never understood people who worked later than they needed to. You’d much rather spend your evenings on things you enjoy, which, when you have one, is often your baby.

And you’re thinking of Steven again.

Would he like sitting with you while you were entertained by your other, mainly indoor, hobbies? Some of your other babies grew restless with the inactivity. Or would he be needy, constantly endearingly wanting your attention but never pushing too far?

You picture him looking at you with those beautiful brown eyes, begging for you to take him somewhere, talk to him, lavish him with affection—

Stop it.

Try as you might, it’s impossible to shake him. He’s in skin deep, and you have no clue how to carve him out.

Another week goes by, and still no word from Steven.

You had assumed, after he said he would tell you after he blushed so prettily and didn’t run screaming, that he would at least have the courtesy to tell you he had to turn you down. You’re less upset at this point and more irritated. Annoyed with Steven, sure, but annoyed at yourself for going against your better judgment, hoping that everything would turn out fine. You had to be smart to get where you are; you should have known better than to pick up a random person to try to make your sugar baby.

It’s Saturday night, and you’re cozied up on your couch, watching your favorite movie and enjoying a molten fudge brownie to drown your sorrows and anger. This was how you spent most weekends, in truth. All the money in the world didn’t make you any less of an introvert, uninterested in loud clubs or parties—unless you had a date to show off.

Which you don’t.

You scrape the crumbs from your plate and lick the fudge from your fork before tossing them down on the coffee table with a clatter, the sound making you wince.

Before long, the movie isn’t able to distract you. Still feeling a little spiteful, you grab your phone, letting the movie play for background noise.

You open the app you use to look for new babies—the one everyone has to pay to use. Maybe what you need is a professional, which many who use the app are. At the very least, you’ll have a more timely response from them. The professionals don’t play games. And even if you don’t see one tonight that catches your interest, there’s no harm in looking.

After glancing at a few profiles, you pause on one belonging to a dark-haired man with glasses. He says he lives in New York—you have your settings set internationally since you have the funds to bring someone to you—and you entertain the idea of asking him to relocate. You’ve never had someone move for you, but seeing how devoted a baby could be to you is always an ego boost.

Just as you’re about to send a few coins the man’s way—the paid in-app currency that mommies and daddies use to show interest and initiate contact with prospective babies—your phone chimes, the delicate notes of your ringtone filling the room.

A call. From Steven.

Disbelief fills you, tamping down some of your anger. It doesn’t dissipate entirely, though, and you’re tempted not to answer to teach Steven a lesson. But he’s not your baby, and reacting with anger before you hear him out isn’t fair to him.

Pausing your movie, you swipe to answer just before the call gets sent to voicemail.

“Hello,” you say simply, unwilling to try saying anything witty lest it comes across wrong over the phone. It’s happened before, and it’s never fun to have to backtrack and explain yourself, especially in such a delicate situation as this.

“For a second there, I was afraid you weren’t going to answer,” Steven says, sounding relieved.

“Why would you be afraid?”

“Because…” Steven hesitates. “Because it’s late, and I meant to talk to you sooner, I swear. But something…weird happened, and it was days later, and I could have sworn I left your number on Gus’s tank, but then it wasn’t there. And after everything else, I forgot for a day there and—”

“Steven,” you cut him off, ignoring the “forgetting” thing—for now. “Your answer?”

Steven is quiet for a moment. Then, a soft “Yes.”

“Yes, what? What do you want?” You need to hear him say it.

“Yes, I want to…be your sugar baby.” He whispers the last part as if he’s afraid to say the words out loud. If he doesn’t want to be called that, you won’t force it, but the affirmative response makes you grin.

“But I have some questions first,” he quickly adds.

“Of course. We’ll go over the terms and everything first before we make it official. Are you available tomorrow?”

You had Steven pick the meeting place, wanting him to be somewhere familiar and comfortable to discuss such an unfamiliar topic. The courtyard where you’re to meet Steven is small but lovely. You arrive a few minutes earlier than the set meeting time of ten. Early to ease Steven’s nerves, which you could hear from the other end of the line, and so you weren’t left feeling like you couldn’t do anything for the rest of the day now that you had one thing planned.

You spot Steven sitting on the bench in front of a ground fountain in the middle of the square, shoulder slumped and eyes staring down at the ground. You slowly approach, making sure your heeled boots clack loudly on the bricks. He looks up when you get close and jumps to his feet when he sees you, saying your name. Then he sticks out his hand before abruptly dropping it.

“Sorry. I’m not sure what the proper greeting for…this is.”

Smiling, you ask, “Would it be alright if I hugged you?”

Steven nods, his face flushing. You wonder, the longer you know him if that’ll ever stop. You hope it doesn’t.

Pleased, you step forward, tucking your arms under Steven’s while his come over your shoulders. His hold is light, like he isn’t sure how firmly to hold you. You tuck your chin onto his shoulder and close your eyes, enjoying his warmth. You relish affectionate touches with your babies, and Steven’s arms feel lovely around you.

It’s not a quick hug. You keep your arms around him, giving Steven a chance to relax into it. If he doesn’t, he may be one of the ones you forgo such actions with. Pleasantly, though, he readjusts his arms, settling their weight around you more completely to actually hold you.

He even lets out a pleased hum, and you have to bite your lip to keep your smile from turning into a too-wide grin.

Steven seems a little startled when you eventually pull away.

“So, what would you like to know?” you ask, sitting on the bench, setting your bag beside you on your free side.

“Right, erm…” He sits next to you, close but not too close. “What would I have to…do exactly?”

“Can you be more specific?” What a sugar baby does can encompass a number of things that vary for every mommy and daddy.

Steven looks around at the people passing by, shifting back and forth in his seat. “Would I have to…sleep with you?” he whispers.

It’s a fair question. Usually, one of the first a new baby will ask, and his hesitancy tells you that, for whatever reason, he’s shy about the topic.

“Only if we both want to and sometime in the future when we both know each other better,” you answer honestly.

You don’t sleep with all your babies, and it’s not a requirement for you. Some people don’t like sex with their mommies or daddies, and you’re not going to force someone to sleep with you. You can perfectly enjoy having a baby, being their mommy, without having sex with them.

“Oh,” Steven says evenly. You can’t quite make out what his tone means.

“And if you don’t want me to touch you at all, that’s fine. We don’t have to hug again or anything like that again if it’s uncomfortable for you.” Though you’ll be more than a little disappointed if that’s the case.

“The hug was nice!” Steven quickly assures you. “I just wasn’t sure if-if you’d need that for me to…”

“We don’t have to be sexual with each other for me to enjoy your company, Steven.”

He nods. “Good. That’s…good.”

Sometimes, you have trouble understanding what people mean when they speak. Steven’s an endearing sort of awkward, but you’re starting to learn that makes it hard to tell what he means.

Is he happy that he doesn’t have to have sex with a stranger? Or is he like some other people and disappointed that he doesn’t get to have a very-few-strings-attached relationship?

You’ll probably need to start asking for clarification in the future, but for now, don’t say anything and let the topic drop.

“What else do you have questions about?”

Steven shakes himself from his thoughts and turns back to you, no longer looking uncomfortable.

“Do you want me to quit my job?”

“Do you want to quit your job?” You’ve never asked a baby to quit working—if they even had a job to begin with—unless it was something that did more harm than good. Not to mention, it’s a good way to keep them busy when you’re not around. You can’t exactly be with your baby twenty-four-seven.

You don’t know what Steven goes through on a daily basis, though you can guess based on what his manager is like.

“Well, I don’t exactly love working with Donna,” Steven says, his mouth twisting when he mentions the woman of his apparent nightmares. “But the others aren’t so bad, and I really like it there. I mean, I wish I weren’t stuck in the gift shop, but it’s not all bad.”

“Then keep your job,” you shrug. “Set up a savings or investment account and put every paycheck in there. Then you have it for the future if you ever need it.”

“Are you sure?” Steven presses. “Because some of the things I read said I would have to.”

“If you need me to tell you to quit so it’s easier for you, then quit. But otherwise, I don’t care. I’m more than capable of working around your schedule. This is kind of another job, in a way.” He still looks unsure. You gently place your hand on his jaw, needing him to not just hear you but listen to you. “I want to take care of you, not control you.”

In a manner of speaking, you do control your babies, telling them what to wear and what to do to make you happy. Some even have a sort of persona around you that you find particularly pleasing. But you don’t force them to make life choices like that.

Helping someone quit their shitty job is vastly different than making someone stop doing something they enjoy. You’ve also noticed that it can be hard for new babies to give up the way of life they’re so used to. For them, it’s difficult to actually go through with not working when it’s all they’ve ever known, despite how often they’ve dreamt of never having to work ever again.

Steven doesn’t say anything, though he does seem to lean into your hand a little.

“So what’ll it be?” you prompt.

“I’ll keep my job,” he answers quietly, still mesmerized by your touch. You nod and take your hand away; you need his head clear.

“I just have one question for you before I start going over everything else.”

“Whatever you want to know.”

“Are you in any sort of relationship? Committed, casual?” You carefully watch Steven’s face, looking for any tells. You can’t always tell when people lie, but almost everyone has common cues indicating when they’re being deceitful.

“Oh, no! Nothing to worry about there,” he says with an awkward laugh. When he sees the slightly skeptical look on your face, he continues. “Let’s just say you’re the only one who’s been interested in me.”

His uncontrollable blush is on his face again, and he meets your eye without issue.

You have to bite your tongue to keep from asking Ever? Or recently? That’s something you can ask later if he’s willing to talk about it to sate your curiosity.

“Do people really do that?” Steven asks. “Date someone and be a sugar baby at the same time?”

“Of course, and usually consensually between all parties. It all comes down to what someone needs from their baby. Me, though? I like having them all to myself. It can be hard to try to fit in a third.”

“So I take it you’re not in a relationship?” Steven asks slowly.

You shake your head. “I’m not. It’s why I like having sugar babies.”

With the major questions out of the way, you start going into your expectations.

“There aren’t a lot of events that I attend, but I expect you to come with me,” you start, and Steven pulls out his phone. For a second, you’re confused, but as he starts typing., you see he’s making notes for himself. “Sometimes I like to take overnight trips, and I’d like you to come with me. We’ll have to go around your work schedule, though, so you always need to let me know your hours.

Steven writes it all down, mumbling the words to himself as you say them.

When I call, you answer. When I tell you to call me, you call me. No excuses.

If I ever tell you to do or not do something, you listen. It won’t ever be anything morally objectional. Depending on what it is, I’ll ask if you’re comfortable with it.

I’m your mommy, I expect please and thank you.

I like being affectionate. That means hugging, holding hands, and the like. I’d even like to be able to kiss you on the cheek if that’s alright with you.

I’ll give you a card. When you’re on your own, I expect you to use it. If I don’t see any large purchases on the statement, you’ll get a talking-to.

When we’re together, you ask me to buy things for you. Nothing is too big or too small.

I’ll be paying all your rent and any bills, so we’ll need to take time to get those sorted.

I’m paying you for your time, so you’ll get a payment every time we’re on a date or go out. Feel free to ask for more than I give you. There’s nothing wrong with being playful and saying you’re worth more.

“Also,” you say once you finish your last point. “Most of my babies are fine with informal, verbal agreements, but I can get something written up for you if you’d like.”

Steven is so focused on typing that he doesn’t realize you want his input. It isn’t until he registers what he’s typing that he finally looks up.

“Oh, sorry.” He locks his phone, putting his hands in his lap. “Is one better than the other?”

“Having a written agreement is more for the baby’s benefit. Based on my experience, babies like it because they can have a signed statement for continued payment for some time after the relationship ends. I usually only hear of high rollers doing it; that way, the baby is set up if things sour. And if the mommy or daddy doesn’t want to pay, the baby can threaten legal action, which usually gets settled out of court very quickly. A win-win for the baby.”

“And what would you get out of it?”

“For me personally? It would just be a way to hold you to the agreement enough to keep you from running out without notifying me. It’s fine if you don’t want to be my baby anymore, but I am at least owed a sort of resignation whenever the time comes.”

You remember that one baby you had a couple of years ago. He was new to the game, took his first payment, and left without speaking to you again. You were more annoyed at having to make someone track him down to ensure that nothing had happened to him than upset that he didn’t want to be a baby anymore.

“So, if I don’t want to be your baby anymore, I just say so and walk away?” Steven asks with a hint of skepticism, likely thinking that it surely can’t be that easy.

“Exactly. Like I said, I don’t want to control you or own you, but I think I deserve enough respect to be told you’re no longer interested.”

Steven thinks everything over for a moment.

“I can’t say I see myself wanting to sure you, so I think I’ll be okay without signing anything,” he eventually says.

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah, I mean, this doesn’t have to be as complicated as all that, does it?”

You give a small smile. “It doesn’t. This is supposed to be fun, after all.”

Steven smiles back at you, and you feel a flutter in your chest. Normally, your babies don’t set your heart pounding, but Steven isn’t quite like them. You push it out of your mind; it’s best not to get too attached, not like that anyway.

“Did you set up that account I asked you to?” you ask, ready to get on to the fun part of a new baby’s first arrangement.

Steven unlocks his phone and opens the online banking app you asked him to download last night. It’s the best way to send his payment, and then he can move it around however he likes afterward.

Pulling up the QR code to share his profile, you scan it with your app, adding him to your contacts. Then, you tap to start a transaction.

“This will be for our initial dinner and for today. Go ahead and type any amount you’d like in there,” you say, handing your phone to Steven.

He stares at the screen, frozen, like he’s afraid to move.

“Go on,” you urge him. You had wondered what he’d be like once he was told to start asking for money. Much like your other new babies, he’s hesitant, afraid to name a number, even though this whole arrangement revolves around money.

Steven looks up at you, eyes wide and biting his lip. Finally, looking back down at your phone, you watch as he types a single “1” before thrusting it back toward you.

You don’t take it. “Do you think that’s all you’re worth? Add some zeroes on there.”

Steven types one zero.

“Another,” you command. Very slowly, he types another. “Think you can give me one more?”

“I… That’s just…” Steven flounders, shaking his head.

“Steven.” Just his name, nothing more. Your voice is firm, leaving no room for argument.

This time, he quickly hits a third zero and practically throws the phone back at you.

“Good boy,” you say, quickly hitting the ‘transfer’ button to send the thousand pounds to Steven. You think you see him shiver.

You grin, already loving his reactions. You can’t wait to tease him, give him more.

“Now, what do you say?” you ask, tucking your phone back into your leather handbag.

“Thank you,” Steven says quietly, face once again flushed.

“You’re welcome, baby.” His eyes flit down shyly, but he doesn’t turn away from you.

Then you reach out and tug on the sleeve of his shirt, examining the fit and pattern.

“There’s one more thing I’d like to do today if you have the time,” you say, eyeing up the rest of his outfit.

“What’s that?” Steven asks, sounding nervous and perhaps a little excited.

Your eyes flick to meet his, that predatory look returning to your face.

“I want to take you clothes shopping.”

Series taglist: @multific @uncle-eggy

#moon knight x reader #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #moon knight fanfic #x reader #sugar series

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bornonthesavage · 1 year

Text

Eddie wouldn’t say he loves his job. He isn’t sure anyone actually loves working in organized crime, but hey, it pays the bills. And he’s good at it, so that’s a plus. All he has to do is pick up bags, drop them at predetermined destinations, and then collect the money. Easy. That is, until it goes wrong. Because of course it does. Things always go wrong for him.

“Where’s the rest of the money?” Sam asks. He’s Eddie’s boss, a greasy dude with shifty eyes.

Eddie frowns. “What are you talking about? It’s all there.”

“No, it’s not. You’re short five hundred. What, you think you can steal from the Harringtons and I won’t notice?”

Eddie’s eyes go wide as he realizes the situation he’s in. “Whoa, dude, what? No! Why would I steal? I’m not stupid!”

Sam takes a menacing step forward and Eddie tries to move back, but feels his path stopped by a thick chest. Yeah, this isn’t looking good.

“Give the money back now, and maybe I’ll let you go. If you don’t, you’re not going to like what happens next.”

Fear coils in Eddie’s stomach. If he had the money he would give it back out of his own pocket. As it stands, all he’s got is the 15 bucks that he’d planned on using for dinner tonight. He’s completely screwed.

“Sam, please, you have to believe me. I didn’t take anything!”

Sam glowers. “Fine, that’s how you wants it.”

Eddie’s grabbed on both sides by strong hands. He tries to fight but knows it no uses. The hired muscle are twice his size, and while he’d probably be able to outrun them, there’s no getting out of the their grasp.

He’s dragged from the office and thrown roughly in the trunk of a car. This is it, he thinks. This is how he’s going to die. They’re going to take him to some river and throw him in with bricks tied to his feet. He’d heard of this sort of thing happening, sure, but he’d never thought it would happen to him. Because he wasn’t stupid enough to cross the Harringtons. They were the most powerful crime family in the country, and Eddie valued his life, thank you very much. But apparently none of that mattered.

The ride is bumpy and it feels like it takes forever. But maybe that’s just Eddie, to out of his mind with fear to pay much attention. He tries to escape, kicking at the trunk and looking for a release lever. Of course, there’s nothing. When they finally come to a stop, he prepares himself to fight. The trunk opens and he tries to launch himself at the nearest thug, but the angles all wrong. He’s thrown the ground with ease, gravel crunching beneath his body.

“Get up,” one of the goons snarls, grabbing him by the arm and yanking him up.

Eddie looks around, trying to get an idea of his surroundings. He’d thought they’d maybe be out in the middle of the woods or near a body of water, but there’s none of that. Instead, they’re outside a massive mansion.

“What the fuck? Where are we?”

He’s pulled forward. “The big boss is out of the country, so we’re taking you to his son. We’ll let him decide how to handle you.”

Ah, shit. That wasn’t much better. He hadn’t worked for the Harringtons for three years without hearing all the horror stories. Sure, Thomas Harrington was in charge and had a reputation for violence, but Eddie had heard plenty about his son as well. A rich boy with a mean streak, they said. So what would he do to Eddie for apparently stealing from his family? Nothing good, that was for sure.

Eddie barely had any time to look around as he was dragged through the mansion and pulled through a set of double doors into an office, where he was thrown to his knees. Slowly, he brought his eyes up.

The first thing he saw were the pair of shiny black shoes. Nothing at all like his own worn out pair of shit kickers. His eyes travel up over a pair of sinfully long legs and thick thighs, all wrapped up in a pair of dress pants that probably cost more than he made in several months. Beyond that was a red silk shirt, only partially buttoned to reveal one of the nicest chests Eddie had ever seen. He sort of hated himself for thinking that, even now.

Finally, his gaze reached the face of the man himself. Steve Harrington was every bit as gorgeous as people said he was, and maybe a bit more. With a strong nose and defined chin, brown eyes that looked a little bored, and perfectly styled hair. Because of course it wasn’t enough that he’d been born rich and powerful. No, he also had to be unbelievably pretty.

Steve brought a cigarette to his lips and took a drag. “Who’s this?”

“This,” one of the thugs says, kicking Eddie’s foot, “Is just a low level piece of shit who thought he could steal from you, sir. We brought him here to let you decide what to do with him.”

Steve looked back to Eddie. “Is that true? Did you steal from my father?”

“No!” Eddie cried.

“Liar,” one goon snarled. “He was short by $500.”

“I swear, I didn’t take anything! I wouldn’t do that, I’m not a fucking idiot!”

Steve just continued to look at him, though he now seemed a bit curious. “Then where did the money go?”

Eddie shook his head. “I have no idea! Do you really think I’d risk my life over five hundred bucks? If I was going to steal, I’d take a lot more than that, I can promise you.”

To Eddie’s relief, though he wasn’t sure how great that relief should be, Steve laughed. He had a nice laugh, very full and bright. If Steve is amused, Eddie can use that. He’s good at being amusing. If the prince needs a jester, he can be that.

“What’s your name?” Steve asks.

“Eddie.”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty four.”

Steve nods and takes another drag from his cigarette. “Right.”

He then reaches into his back pocket, and Eddie withdraws into himself. Is he going to pull a gun and just end him right here? At least that would be quick. But it’s not a gun, just his wallet. Steve flips it open and takes out a few hundred dollar bills, before tossing them at the floor by the goons feet. They flutter down like rich person confetti.

“To cover what’s missing,” he says.

The men glance at each other, as if unsure of what to do, before bending down to collect the money. “Uh, yes sir. We’re sorry to have bothered you. We’ll just get this waste of space out of your sight.”

They go to grab Eddie again and he struggles. He’s pretty sure that once he’s out of this room, his time will be up. But then Steve holds up a hand.

“Oh no, leave him here with me.”

Now the guards looked even more confused, and the sentiment was shared by Eddie. Was Steve some sick sadist, who wanted to torture Eddie here all by himself? But the thugs weren’t going to defy their boss. They gave him a shove, forcing him down to his hands, then retreated out of the office. Once the door was closed, Steve made his way around to the other side of the desk and sat. Eddie sort of thought he should get up off his knees, but he didn’t want to make any sudden movements. Maybe now was the best time to plead his case.

“Please, sir, you have to believe that I didn’t take that money.”

But Steve only shrugs and puts his cigarette out. “I don’t really care if you did. Honestly, it would be kind of funny.”

Eddie just stares at him, sure he heard him wrong. “Um, what?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, kicking his feet up on the desk. “My dads an asshole. I’ve stolen from him hundreds of times, and either he doesn’t care or he doesn’t notice. So really, it makes no difference to me.”

Well, this definitely wasn’t how Eddie had thought this was going to go. He still sort of thinks this is a trap, a ruse to get Eddie to admit that he’d actually taken the money.

“Right. So… I’m not in trouble?”

“Nah.”

“Oh. So, can I go then?”

And now Steve gets this certain look in his eye, one that’s bright and sharp, and Eddie almost feels like a prey animal caught in the mouth of a wolf den. But Steve is still smiling, and it seems genuine.

“You can if you want. Or…”

Eddie waits. He’s really not sure where this is going. What else can he want from him? When Steve doesn’t go on, just continues to stare, Eddie raises his eyebrows. “Or what?”

Steve shifts forward in his chair, resting his elbows on the desk and his chin in his hand. “Now, maybe I’m completely off base with this, so correct me if I’m wrong here. But you were checking me out when you first got here, weren’t you?”

Eddie’s mouth goes dry and his heart jumps in his chest. He hadn’t thought Steve had noticed.

“Please, Mr. Harrington, that wasn’t… I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“Call me Steve. I hate when people call me Mr. Harrington. And you didn’t offend me. The opposite, in fact.”

Eddie just stares. This can’t be going where he thinks it’s going. Where he’s hoping it’s going. “Really?”

“Yeah, really,” Steve says, his smile growing wider. “I know when someone’s interested in me and you,” his eyes roam over Eddie’s body, “Are very interested.”

He’s cocky, that’s for sure. Eddie hates that he likes it. He really, really likes it. To his embarrassment, he even feels himself twitch in his jeans.

“So I guess you have two choices,” Steve continues. “You can get up and leave right now. No one will stop you and you’ll be free to go on your way. Or… You can stay. And we can come to an arrangement of an entirely different sort.”

And Eddie knows he should leave. He should get up and walk out right now. Because Harrington is nothing but trouble. He can see it written in every line of him, from that cocksure grin to those $3000 shoes. But Eddie’s never claimed to be smart. And he’s never been able to turn down a bit of trouble.

He leans back on his heels, titling his head in a way that draws Steve’s eyes to his neck, and grins.

“I’m listening.”

#steddie #steve x eddie #eddie and steve #steddie fic #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #Look I’ve written a crime AU for both of the other fandoms I’ve been a part of #and this just works really well #I love cocky Steve #I just think he’d take one look at Eddie #and go yep #I’m keeping this one

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sweetbbyshion · 1 year

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Commissions

-> Xiao x Reader (afab reader, no pronouns used)

characters: Xiao

genre: smut

summary: you get a little too needy and make your boyfriend fuck you before he has to leave to complete commissions

warnings: NSFW, established relationship, quick sex, use of pet names (baby), unprotected sex, ruined orgasms, little bit of angst at the ending

PART 2 NOW AVAILABLE HERE

“I told the traveler I would accompany them on commissions…” Xiao groans, mindlessly pulling your body closer to him as you leave a trail of kisses down his neck. “We don't have time.” soft signs leave his lips.

“Yes we do… I’m sure the Conqueror of Demons can afford to be five minutes late.” his mouth falls open in a silent moan when you palm him through the pants. “It's been so long, I need you to fuck me.” you whine on his ear. Xiao debates if he should or shouldn't continue this, knowing he won't be able to stop until he is coming deep inside you. His questions are answered when you take a few steps back and start undressing, every bit of skin showing makes him hornier and needier for you. His fingers are burning to touch you, twitching on his side as he watches you get naked in front of him in the comfort of your home. He knows he has to be quick, the traveler will come look for him in no time but he always freezes whenever he sees your naked body, so desperate to pin you to bed and worship you until you're dumb on his cock.

You have both been far too busy. With the Lantern Rite arriving, you have been helping people around the city and Xiao has been occupied fighting monsters that always multiply with the festivities. You never seem to find a time where you're both free until now. Technically Xiao wasn't free, he simply decided to visit you before meeting the traveler to do commissions but you were eager and couldn't keep your hand off your lover as soon as you saw him at your door. You didn't even pull him to the bedroom, instead pinning him to the front door and begging for him to take you right there. Xiao, like always, does what you ask him to and pushes you against the door, hooking one of your legs around his waist. He kisses you like he needs it to survive, biting and licking your lips making everything a mess. You're desperately trying to take off his shirt but Xiao seems to not want to let go of your lips. Your hands caress his chest, wanting to feel him close to you.

Everything is moving too fast, Xiao doesn't even undress himself. He simply pushes his pants low enough to pull his dick out of his boxers and spits on his hand to wet his dick a bit more before he's pushing inside you. You don't even have time to complain about the stretch, Xiao’s mouth is on yours once again. His thrusts are sloppy and fast, the adeptus groaning every time your pussy squeezes around him. You're pulling his hair, trying to hold yourself against him as he keeps pounding harshly. The only sound coming out of your mouth are moans of his name. “Baby…” Xiao groans. “I’m close.”

“Inside, please.” you plead, biting your lower lip when you feel his long fingers touching your clit. Your head falls against the door behind you, your orgasm getting closer each time Xiao thrusts and his fingers flick your clit. You can tell the feeling building up in your stomach.

“Maybe he lost track of time!” you tense at the sound of the familiar voice on the other side of the door. “Xiaoooo! It's time to do commissions. Hurry up because Paimon is getting hungry.”

You can feel Xiao getting angrier even though his face doesn't show much emotion, he is chasing his own release before Paimon calls for him once more but luck isn't on his side. The traveler’s voice is heard, letting their companion know that maybe Xiao wasn't there but Paimon is set on screaming Xiao’s name while knocking on the door. Your boyfriend stops his movements, letting in a deep breath. “Paimon get the fuck out of here, now.” He growls loud enough to be heard on the other side. Everything goes silent and the adeptus takes it as a sign that they left. He goes back to fucking you, now without anything distracting him.

“I don't think this is working.” you say when your boyfriend lets out a sigh of frustration. “You should go before Paimon decides to come back.”

“I’m sorry.” he whispers, letting his head fall on your shoulder for you to pat his head gently. “I’ll try to come by after the commissions.”

You nod, even if you know it will be practically impossible. He pulls out, then fixing his clothes while you put yours on before standing in front of you to fix his hair. You give him a small kiss on the lips and whisper a be safe before your boyfriend teleports to wherever the traveler is.

You don't get mad when later that night Xiao doesn't show up but you do get disappointed when you see him next to the traveler, Paimon nowhere to be seen, while you're walking through the city.

#kora posts!#xiao smut #genshin impact smut #xiao x reader #genshin impact x reader #xiao x y/n #xiao x you #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x y/n #genshin impact xiao #genshin smut #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin x y/n #genshin xiao

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sicklyseraphnsuch · 7 months

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The Duality of Simon (or the Importance of Marcy)

Travel back to the early 2010s, when Adventure Time was still a fairly new thing. The fandom was growing, the theories were flowing. We've had confirmation that Ooo is in fact a post appcalyptic world. And then we get:

Here was living, breathing proof of the intersection between Ooo and our world. Simon Petrikov was a literal connection to the past, and moreover one of the ways Adventure Time really began to develop its inner tragedies.

But honestly, as sad as the Idea of Simon Petrikov was - it remained that he was a relic, an inert tragedy that was a connection to the past, but not necessarily connected to the future.

Enter:

You can mourn the losses of ages past. But it won't necessarily move you to act. Because there's nothing to compel you. You can stand to gain something but it's more important that you don't lose anything by keeping the status quo. In short, there weren't any stakes.

No, not those kind of Stakes... Well... maybe a little

So, bear in mind, Betty won't make her debut until two seasons after "Holly Jolly Secrets". To us, she was a non-entity. Simon's grief over her loss was for the audience, a mostly intellectual exercise. How sad for this poor cursed man to lose the woman he loved - replacing all proper nouns with common nouns because we didn't know Simon either. But his situation is clearly sad, just in a general, unspecific way. Because again, there's nothing at stake here.

Marcy drives thoses stakes up (and into our hearts). Suddenly, Simon becomes Very Very Real because we know Marcy. We've hung out with her for at least five seasons now leading up to the game changing "I Remember You".

By connecting Marcy to this Simon, suddenly we had something to lose - suddenly we already lost something. Marcy gave Simon's curse weight - dimension - texture - rendering it very real instead of a mere intellectual tragedy. Simon matters because he matters to someone here and now, because someone was still crying over him. And we love Marcy. We don't want her to cry.

It was through the Marcy and Simon relationship that we came to learn of and love Simon. Betty came later. Betty came after. We already loved Simon by then so learning of his love story was just building on that love. Naturally, being invested in the Simon and Betty relationship without prior connection to Simon is possible. But the fact that he was already established and endeared to the audience goes a way into investing in the Simon and Betty relationship.

So we get to Fionna and Cake.

We get exactly one scene with the Marcy we know and love. And Simon isn't even in the same room as her.

And the show is fully justified in doing so because Fionna and Cake was a series about Simon and Betty. And Simon and Marcy have little to do with that A story (the love plotline). Even if the B story (the recovery plotline) does pay homage to Simon and Marcy by showing Simon that he does have value, the homage amounts to only a few scenes (maybe cumulatively three minutes of screen time) in the whole series.

However, Simon and Marcy's relationship wasn't just to show that Simon is an integral component to the way Ooo came to be, and his impact on the people he loves. Simon and Marcy's relationship is integral to how we came to love Simon - against all odds and all tenets of common sense, a man that was slowly warped by madness chose to take care of a completely unknown little girl that he found in the wreckage of the world.

The problem here is that Marcy's Simon and Betty's Simon never got to meet in the middle. A lot of this is rooted in the original Adventure Time series where Betty and Marceline never speak more than ten words to each other.

Literally the only time they share the screen (and no I'm not counting Betty bot in Broke his Crown)

Which is BANANAS considering they are literally the two most important people in Simon's life.

And listen, again, by Fionna and Cake, we are invested in Simon and Betty, especially after what she did during the finale. We want to know about them.

And again, the Fionna and Cake series is well and wholly complete without ever having Simon and Marcy talk.

But it leaves a little ache. Because again, the first opportunity to truly love and connect with Simon came through Simon and Marcy. And we never really know how they get on now that they're back together. We seriously have maybe 10 lines of conversation between them since the finale and this includes Obsidian.

Literally, he says hi to Marcy twice and that's it. Very meaningful conversation.

Aaaand there's also the supreme irony where in one relationship, Simon never gets a chance to contribute equally, and in his other relationship, Simon wore himself down to nubs giving all that he had. But this duality within Simon is never really connected. There is a throughline here, his impulse for self sacrifice shares a root for his self centered perspective that blinded him to Betty's self effacing habits.

Now here's the thing, Fionna and Cake also built its conflict around Simon's identity and his self worth, etc. Yet it doesn't really contend with all that Simon has done without Betty, and before Ice King. By centering the narrative on only how he was with Betty (both pre and post Mushroom War), we get very little foundation laid out for what he could do after he says goodbye to her.

And this isn't a mistake because again, the series stands on its own just fine. The story works without it because at least that central relationship of Simon and Betty is fully established. But it does come at the cost of a missed opportunity to fully explore the cause of Simon's myopia, or how living through an apocalypse could reinforce that myopia because Simon keeps romanticizing "when his life was great".

Finally, the other downside is that Fionna and Cake stands on its own, maybe a little too much. It's still based on the characters of Adventure Time, building on the love for the original show. So it would have been a crowd pleaser, shall we say some fan service, to get more of what the original show worked hard to make us love.

#adventure time #fionna and cake #simon petrikov #marceline abadeer #marceline the vampire queen #betty grof

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icallhimjoey · 7 months

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Lost & Found

♥ ♥ Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: You take a little break, a week away to somewhere warm to relax and calm your senses. So does Joe – same flight, same hotel, same travel plans and, worst of all, same suitcase. What was meant to be a lovely trip to the sun starts off on the wrong foot when you find expensive designer outfits belonging to a man in what you thought was your suitcase.

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, lots of swearing, we get a little spicy but nothing too bad, 18+ just in case though!

Author’s note: i know i already said we were going at a slower pace, but, i really meant it - ive got too much other things going and i apologise! part four might take EVEN LONGER ive got a busy month coming up, so we'll see how it goes! thanks for being patient with me <333

Wordcount: 4.3K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

Your breath hitched as your fingers twitched with need of a self-destruct button when you saw him.

Swimming shorts, black. The ones you’d had in your hands two days before. Linen shirt, short sleeves, beige – unbuttoned. It was one of the things you’d tried on. Your friend had said it looked like a pyjama top on you. You were glad to learn it did not look like a pyjama top on him.

Sunglasses. Black, dark, and designer if you were to go by the large metallic logos on the sides.

Hair sort of all over the place, like he hadn’t touched it after rolling out of bed this morning. Book in hand, paperback, folded corners and broken spine.

If you were honest, it was kind of a vibe. Until you panned down, and...

Loafers.

You hoped that the glare of the sun didn’t turn your sunglasses transparent enough for Joe to notice you weren’t looking at your phone screen when you saw him step out and enter the pool area.

He walked past a couple of sun loungers that had towels on but seemed otherwise fairly abandoned. The pool was empty, the water too cold to casually dip into, so the towels probably belonged to people who dumped them there before breakfast, just to ensure they’d have a space of their own in the sun later.

Well, it was later now, and had there been no empty sun loungers free of towels, you’d have tossed a random one to claim as your own. Like the one right next to you. Just a big white towel from the hotel on an empty sun lounger that seemingly belonged to no one.

You saw Joe get closer and closer until you realised that he seemed to be coming right over to you.

Maybe he’d seen you and was now just there to come and tell you that he needed his jacket back. The one he gave you last night. The one you were meant to return to room 907. The one you still had up in room 1103.

Listen, it had gotten late. And you’d gotten too tipsy.

You also weren’t sure if you’d remembered 907 correctly, and, what if he was asleep already, you know? You decided after having your 6th drink poured into a plastic cup that you’d bring Joe his jacket tomorrow.

Maybe just after breakfast.

But then, you’d slept right through breakfast, hadn’t you?

You’d woken up two hours after falling asleep, and hadn’t been able to slide back into slumber until after you’d watched the sunrise from your balcony through blinking bleary eyes.

You’d only gotten a very quick gulp of water into your system after brushing your teeth, and now here you were, by the pool, living your best holiday-instagram-filtered-story life.

When Joe walked into earshot, you were ready to launch an excuse at him for not having returned his jacket yet.

But then he bent and sat down on the sun lounger next to you and you realized; that was his towel. One he'd probably laid down just before breakfast to ensure himself a lounger for when he'd want to enjoy some time by the pool side later.

Later was now, apparently.

Joe sat and took off his loafers as he looked over at the pool where the sun made the surface glitter, and then you saw him turn his head to look at you, giving you a polite smile.

“I was going to bring it over last night,” you blurted out as you sat up a little, “I promise, room 907, I didn’t forget. It was just, it got a bit late, and I didn’t want to maybe wake you– I’ll give it back today,” God, the nervosity practically dripped from the words you squeaked out.

Joe just smiled, which only made it worse.

“I... I’ll go get it right now, sorry,” you swung your legs to the side but stopped when you heard Joe laugh.

“That’s okay, no worries,” he quickly said, stopping your feet from finding your flip flops.

“I wasn’t going to keep it,” you reassured.

“I didn’t think you were.”

Okay, good.

“None of my other things have gone missing, so you’re fine,” Joe scrunched his nose and made a face before he got comfy with his book in his lap.

You thought back to that first night with his suitcase. He was sort of right. You could’ve easily kept something - probably would have if you’d listened to your friend who kept telling you, “That looks great on you, fucking keep it,” over and over.

“About that...” you heard yourself say it before you could stop yourself.

“Can I, just, do you want my unsolicited opinion on something?”

Joe found the page in his book he’d left off on and used fingers to bend the spine a bit further. He didn’t really reply, which you took as an invitation to just drop what had been on your mind without holding back.

“Just, I don’t understand, you seem–” you thought your choice of words over just for a second. “You sort of seem like you know what you’re doing. Man on a business trip, expensive clothing, all tailored I’m guessing, and then there’s– I’m sorry, but why would you use two-in-one shampoo?”

Joe blinked at you a second.

“And not only use it, but bring it?!”

It took Joe a second to figure out how to react to your animated question. You seemed genuinely grossed out and properly confused.

Man on a business trip.

That tickled him.

“You um... you went through my toiletries?” Joe asked, eyes back in his book, hoping that maybe the question would get you to blush again like you’d blushed when you’d met at the airport the day before.

“I went through everything, and you fucking know it,” you couldn’t help but laugh yourself now. “Please tell me that bottle has been in your that bag since the nineties and you don’t actually use it still,”

Joe snorted, head bobbing a little.

“I mean,” he started, “It’s how long I’ve had the bag, so that’s not as implausible as you’d think,”

“Yea, it looks it, Joe” you jabbed, grinning, and that’s when Joe realised.

The fucking toiletries bag.

The one he’d had since he was eight.

The one his mother had written his name on with black sharpie so he wouldn’t lose it.

JOE

He could picture it clear as day.

You knew his name because you’d read it on his toiletries bag.

You didn’t know who he was.

His mother’s handwriting had revealed his name to you, and you didn’t fully understand the wistful little smile that overtook his face for a moment as he frowned at his book a little.

This new knowledge shifted something for him. He could dissect the relief of it all later, if he wanted to. Now, it just made him want to entertain this interaction further.

So he did.

Asked you if he was correct at having missed you at breakfast. Told you he wasn't actually on a business trip, but just there for a short break from the hustle and bustle of the city, of work.

You told him you were there for the same reason, and you swapped similar stories of busy jobs and hectic schedules, of tensed shoulders and worried supervisors who pressured you into trips to the sun, and now, here you were. By the poolside of a nice hotel where they served nice drinks and, would you like a drink? What did you have last night?

“Stop, if anyone needs to get anyone a drink here, it’s me. As a thank you for the jacket and not having me, you know, arrested.”

You got up, were about to wave your card in Joe’s face but found yourself plonking back down onto the lounger.

Weird.

You didn’t feel dizzy at all, but somehow your balance felt off. You went to test it by giving your head a little shake, and then suddenly, the world moved sideways. Gravity pulled at you from the side, making you lean there a little, and then, a lot.

There was lounger where you landed, shoulder first, but there wasn’t enough lounger. After bouncing once, you felt yourself slide.

It somehow felt fine, didn’t make you panic at all, your brain already making sense of it but in all the wrong ways. You didn’t feel so heavy, head all light, and so the thud to the floor wasn’t so bad. It was almost like you floated down there, but then, with your cheek pressed against the warm concrete, everything unexpectedly moved upwards with a rough jerk. Smacked you right in the face and the rest of your body sort of slumped down, hurting your cheekbone and what you thought was your brow bone as your full weight seemed shoved into them.

It hurt.

Not in the same way the cold water of the pool hurt the bones of your feet when you'd sat on the edge of it earlier – this felt worse. Cutting.

Your face was pushed into the ground by your own weight until out of the blue, the concrete moved away from you, and you floated back up. Back the right side up.

There were hands and they pulled, and it hurt your arm, your elbow, your shoulder.

“Did you faint? What the– did you faint? No, you– hang on,”

Hands clambered at you until you were back on soft familiar surface, but everything felt a little sticky. And somehow you were fucking freezing.

“Joe?”

You felt your vocal cords say it, you knew you just said something, but you didn’t hear them. Was your voice not working? Or was it your hearing that had gone?

“You fainted,”

“It’s fine, I don’t– what’s happening, what is��”

“Fucking hell, lay down a second. Legs up too, just, I want you flat– be flat,”

You didn’t move quick enough for Joe’s liking, which Joe realized, of course you fucking didn’t. You just smashed yourself face first into the concrete and your eyebrow was bleeding now. In an attempt to gracefully get your legs up onto the lounger too, Joe nearly flung you off of the whole thing on the other side. Managed to grab you by the side just before you swung too far.

“Hands, hands,” Joe just grabbed them. “Give me your hands.” He was already holding them. “Here, hold the sides for me. I need to move you into the shade.”

And then the whole world moved. A tree came into view as the lounger you were on got dragged across grass. It disoriented you into a dizzy spin that made you forget which way was up for a second, even though you were staring right at up.

In no time, two guys who wore polo shirts with hotel-logo-nametags hovered over you and a lady from three sun loungers over stepped in to tell them to get a first aid kit. Something to clean that gash with. To make the bleeding stop.

Joe stepped back and let her mother you for a second, told one of the guys who worked at the hotel that you’d gotten up from the sun lounger and then just… fell.

The lady asked if you’d eaten, and you tried to convince her you were fine and that all of the fuss was a bit much, but then you had to confess that you hadn’t actually eaten and you’d also not slept very well the night before, and the night before that, and, you actually hadn't slept normal in ages, and your shoulders hurt, lower back too, and you’d drank a lot the night before, and, Jesus Christ, you were so fucking cold.

“Someone get her something to drink, she needs sugar,”

“And a sandwich maybe? Something to eat?” Joe added, making the other man scurry off.

There was a moment where the lady and Joe looked at each other and then both looked back at you and you felt so stupidly embarrassed.

“Can I– I want to go back to my room,”

So you could fester in your own embarrassment by yourself in peace and quiet. Without people staring down at you, and no doubt from all around the pool too with all the commotion that was made.

“They’re getting you a drink and some food, and you need your eyebrow looked at,” the lady smiled politely at you, using a finger to wipe some of your hair away from getting stuck in the blood there.

You moved a hand up to touch it, to feel how bad it was, but saw Joe reach an arm out that he quickly snapped away when you halted. You moved it to your mouth instead, to bite at the thumb nail to stop your teeth from chattering.

You were outside and people were barely wearing any clothes and seemed fine – why were you still freezing?

“Are you cold?” the woman asked, already looking around for a towel to drape over you.

“I’m fine,” you lied, and heard Joe huff a laugh. Obviously, you weren’t.

“Here,” he said, and you saw how he handed over the white hotel towel from his sun lounger. It got carefully placed over your shoulders, and it helped a little, but you just wanted to go upstairs and crawl back into bed. Get under the warm covers and sleep this off.

The first aid kit arrived, and this random hotel guest in a bathing suit took it from the guy who’d brought it over. She took over completely, cleaned your face with disinfectant and asked for Joe to help her cut a piece of tape to bandage it up. You saw his fingers fumble, shaking a little bit, like he seemed nervous.

A plated club sandwich and a can of coke arrived. After plenty of “How are you feeling?” and you repeating that you were fine over and over and over in between sips and bites, you were finally asked which room you were staying in, and if you were there with someone.

You hesitated to answer, afraid that if you said you were alone, they wouldn’t just let you go back to your room. They should, of course they should just let you do whatever, but there were three strangers doting over you all worriedly, and then also a fourth one who, even though you'd gone through everything he brought on this trip, was still technically a stranger too.

“It’s okay,” Joe then said. “I’ll take her up to her room.”

And before you could complain about it, he’d slung his towel around his neck, had taken the glass and the plate, then bent sideways and stuck an elbow out for you to loop an arm through.

It was a little weird to walk into the hotel with Joe. To get into the lifts with Joe. To step into your room with Joe.

It was a little weirder to say you were going to shower and that you were fine, thank you.

It was a little weirder when Joe didn’t just accept that and looked at you with worried eyes before he asked if you could shower with the door open, and if he could sit just outside in case the hot water did silly things to your blood pressure. What if you dropped in the shower and no one would be there to stop you from drowning?

“Drown? It’s a shower.”

“Place could flood.” Joe shrugged.

It was weird when you looked at each other a second and you realised he wasn’t going to leave. Wasn’t going to let you shower with the door shut and locked, and so, fine.

Joe awkwardly stood in the middle of your hotel room, plate and drink still in hand, when you moved the desk chair closer to the bathroom door.

“I’m sorry, I just, that lady from downstairs will murder me if I don’t make sure you’re okay,”

You laughed at his excuse and gestured for him to put all he was holding down on the desk.

“I’ll be quick.” You said, finding a change of clothes to take into the bathroom with you.

“Please, take your time. Don’t rush.”

You didn’t rush, but were quick anyway. You now had a man waiting for you to finish a shower and you knew you’d gone through all of his things, but leaving him alone in your hotel room surrounded by all of your things felt invasive.

The warm water was nice and managed to relax your shoulders a little.

Not a lot.

But, you know, all little bits helped.

“I’m okay,” you called when you shut off the water, hoping maybe Joe would reply, ok great, and maybe leave. He didn’t. Just said, “Good.” and then stayed put.

When you emerged with wet hair, in soft shorts and a white tank top, Joe smiled at you. His eyes immediately went to the wet bandage that covered your eyebrow still, the tape strong enough to have kept it in place. Good. That was good.

His smile quickly disappeared however, when he saw you rub a hand at your neck, your face displaying a painful grimace.

“Your jacket,” you pointed and Joe looked. Saw his jacket. Had seen it already.

He didn’t move to grab it, instead turning back to you. His eyes flicked between your face that displayed painful discomfort and the hand that was squeezing at the flesh of your shoulder now.

“All right, I’ll leave you alone in a second, but before you tell me you’re fine again, can I… can I just…” Joe held both his hands up. You just looked at them and didn’t move. Joe, in turn, placed both hands on top of your shoulders and frowned at what he felt.

“Jesus, all right,” Joe turned, looked around the room, eyes darting and brain going at top speeds to put a plan together.

“Do you mind if I…?”

Perhaps Joe could start actually finishing his sentences, you thought, although you thought you knew what he meant and shrugged both your shoulders up to your ears.

“No,” Joe’s eyes grew wide before he tutted at you. “Don’t, that doesn’t help. Come, sit,”

Joe sat down on the edge of the bed before you did.

“Face that way,” Joe pointed towards the windows, away from him. You followed instructions without question and felt how he collected your hair into one hand before carefully placing it over a shoulder so it’d be out of the way.

“You know this isn’t what this is meant to feel like, right?” You could hear the humour carried in his voice. Of course you knew that. You knew you also weren’t meant to bite at your nails until your fingers bled. Weren’t meant to wake up sweating and panting because you’d hallucinated being trapped in a small dark place again.

You felt the mattress level out behind you as Joe got up and stepped forward. He bent to the side a little, getting his shoulder in front of your face.

“Here,” he touched himself where he’d touched you just before. “Feel this bit, how you can easily squeeze the soft tissue here?”

You reached up, hesitated for a moment, but then touched Joe over his linen shirt that had a few buttons done up now, and squeezed where he told you to squeeze. Like it was normal.

That was… that was all muscle.

Not as thick and hard as whatever was happening to your shoulders, but these were Joe’s warm muscles you were pressing your fingers into.

“Now feel yours,” Joe moved back, touched his fingers to where he wanted you to feel, and made you squeeze yourself in the same spot and, yea, okay, that was a big difference.

“I am also here to relax, but clearly one of us needs it more than the other,” Joe huffed a laugh through his nostrils as he sat down on the bed again behind you and he got back to what he was doing before.

“I've not gotten a good night's sleep in months,” you revealed as Joe dug thumbs into where it hurt.

Hurt good.

Hurt so good.

“You should book a massage,” Joe spoke softly, but kept massaging your shoulders, the bottom of your neck.

“Hmmh,” you replied, afraid that if you’d say anything else, he’d stop what he was doing.

Joe kneaded and pushed and squeezed and touched for a while, and you noticed you were starting to have to work really hard at not flopping over. At sitting up right and keeping your eyes open. You repressed yawns and tried to remember to breath properly, but you’d just had a nice shower and you’d barely gotten any sleep before and now you were on your bed in a comfortable outfit and Joe was massaging you with his big hands and maybe you could rest your eyes, for just a second, you know?

“Here, lay down,” Joe suddenly whispered and without acknowledging how weird it was that Joe just sat outside your bathroom whilst you showered and was now massaging you to sleep in your hotel room, you just laid down. Instantly got comfortable on your stomach leaving enough space for Joe to sit on the side, one knee folded onto the bed and the other dangling down the side still.

“There’s a– do you feel this?” Joe pushed knuckles exactly where you wanted them. “Huge knot.”

“Feels nice,” you whispered, breathy and exhausted.

“I can loosen it up a bit more, but this– you really should get a professional massage,”

Joe kept working strong fingers and even stronger knuckles into the same spots until you couldn’t even feel it anymore. Just felt numb. Or maybe you were just falling asleep and not stopping yourself from slipping under.

Joe’s hands never ventured much lower – maybe just a little, but nothing inappropriate. You were only strangers after all. He thought that you knew who he was but then you didn’t and now the playing field was level and, sure, you knew more about him because you’d gone through his whole suitcase, but he was in your hotel room now and you were falling asleep under his touch.

Fell asleep under his touch.

You woke up in an empty hotel room hours later, covered by the folded-over other half of the duvet you were lying on top of.

You felt… well rested. Only a little disoriented. A little thirsty. Nothing crazy.

The last thing you remembered feeling was Joe’s fingers trailing from your shoulders down your arms and back up again and you felt a little sad that he wasn’t there anymore.

It was still light out, but the sun was setting and it felt like the whole day had passed you by today. You stretched, body feeling looser. Better. Joe was right though, you needed to book a massage. Maybe two. Or three.

When you looked over and saw Joe’s jacket still there, slung over the back of the chair that was now back in its spot behind the desk, you couldn’t help the huff of laughter that escaped you. He could’ve taken that – should have taken that, and yet…

Yea, the day had been weird.

Had been weird from the start.

The weird night's sleep, Joe's toiletries bag, the wound above your eye, the empty coke can on the desk, the massage that had put you to sleep for several uninterrupted hours, and, Joe's jacket.

Weird.

And then room service was weird.

And watching the sunset from your balcony was weird.

Then trying to get back into bed for actual nighttime sleep was weird.

All of it, just... weird.

Room 907.

You'd said you would return the jacket today.

And then he'd been in your room and he'd stayed with you until you'd fallen asleep and then he hadn't taken it.

Joe's jacket was still in your hotel room.

Weird.

You tried ignoring it. Tried to watch TV. Scrolled on your phone. Thought of taking a long bath, maybe.

But that stupid jacket. It kept calling your attention from across the room.

Even after turning off all the lights and tossing and turning for about an hour, you could still feel it there. Taunting. Whispering dares.

Bring me to his hotel room.

Take me there.

Come on.

And...

Fuck.

All right.

You sat up in bed, flicked on a light and squinted both eyes at the sudden brightness.

There it was, still in the same spot. Joe's jacket.

“Fine. You win.” you told no one and slung your legs out of bed, grumbling with annoyance as you took the jacket from the chair and found your hotel room key on the side.

Room 907.

The hotel was quiet as you took the lift down two floors and found Joe's room quick enough.

You stalled a second, unsure if you should knock, but then thought, fuck it. You were there now, jacket in hand, and you'd said you'd bring it back today. You knocked softly, then waited and listened. Nothing. Just to be safe, you knocked again, and then heard the soft click of a light switch. You ignored how that made your heart thunder in your throat.

It didn't take long for the door to open. When you saw Joe's tired face, you immediately knew you'd made a mistake.

You should've waited 'til the next morning. This wasn't a cool move.

“Your jacket,” you felt so dumb. Looked so dumb.

But then you caught sight of the smallest of smiles as Joe took it from you, holding the door wide open as he did.

A beat of silence followed where you hoped Joe'd say thanks, so you could tell him thank you for letting you borrow it in return.

The thanks never came.

Instead Joe stepped aside, door still wide open, and gave a tiny backwards nod that welcomed you inside, followed by a quiet whisper.

“Come on.”

---

The Taglisted

@adoreyouusugar, @alana4610, @ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @barfightzanddiscolightz, @bettyfrommars, @cancankiki, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @dylanmunson, @eddies-puppet, @electricmunson, @emma77645, @emmamooney, @everythinghasafacee, @figmentofquinn, @frogers, @frootvelvet, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @harringtonfan4, @haylaansmi, @jasminearondottir, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @kellyxo1, @kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @manda-panda-monium, @miserybeans, @nadixq, @paola-carter, @pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @roosterisdaddy36, @sherrylyn628, @sidthedollface2, @thebellenouvelle, @thefemininemystiquee, @thewondernanazombie, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella

taglist currently full, sorry

#Joe Quinn #Joseph Quinn #Joe Quinn x You #Joseph Quinn x You #Joe Quinn x Reader #Joseph Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn Fanfic #Joe Quinn fanfiction #Joseph Quinn Fanfic #Joseph Quinn Fanfiction #joe quinn x y/n #joseph quinn x y/n #rpf #icallhimjoey #lost & found #lost and found #part three

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cammys-imagines24 · 10 months

Text

°•Kissing Ellie•°

There are many types of kisses you'll come to relish when being with Ellie but all of them have the same defining trait of an all consuming desperation.

Where she bites, sucks and attacks your mouth like a starved woman. Leaving your lips red and swollen after even the most gentle of kisses.

There are the lazy morning kisses where in the early golden light of dawn Ellie will latch onto you and force you to stay in bed with her.

Sweetly convincing and cajoling you to stay for "just five more minutes", "just ten more minutes" and so on until you entirely give up on the notion of starting your day and hours go by.

Hours of nothing but her pink lips touching every inch of your skin, your body a well traveled map her mouth knows so, so well.

Ellie's voice still raspy from a night of sleep as she whispers absolutely filthy things in your ear while leaving marks upon the sensitive spot on your neck. All bruised and pretty for her in shades of plum and mauve.

Those mornings go by in a haze of bliss in her arms.

Out in public however, she is far more reserved. Definitely not into PDA.

Ellie gets awkward around people, even walking around Jackson with familiars she's known for years and years.

Oh, she'll have to have physical contact with you in some way when walking around Jackson, for sure.

A hand on the small of your back, a pinkie intertwined with yours, maybe even a timid kiss on your cheek just to feel the warmth of your blush.

She's quite bashful when in the company of others and for whatever reason, homophobia still exists even in the fucking apocalypse. I'm looking at you Seth.

So, she won't try anything too blatant that could put either her or especially you in a dangerous position.

She reasons that there's enough danger in the world, she can hold off on her affections til safely behind closed doors.

On the other hand, if Ellie ever gets jealous... lord have mercy on your body for it will be in for a workout.

Say you two are at the bar and some dumb loser starts flirting with you or maybe goes as far as to lay a hand on you without your consent.

They're getting a swift punch in the face and a broken nose real quick. The crunch of the cartilage reverberating across the room.

See, Ellie has so much power coursing through her at all times and though it's quiet, when she's mad it practically radiates off her.

It's the kind of anger that stills the room, that sends goosebumps along your skin and raises the hair on the back of your neck.

She'll take you home immediately afterwards and with the blood of that scum still staining her knuckles she will need to remind you who you belong to.

Ellie's kisses will burn then, like hot wax melting on your flesh.

She'll bite your neck and bite the insides of your thighs.

There will be no leniency for you as she plays with you til you're begging.

Ellie wants you to beg.

Her tongue will tease you til you're nearly crying from overstimulation and she will chuckle darkly at your pleading display.

Her kisses, on nights spurred on by jealousy, will leave you raw. Truly branded by her.

Her mouth is oh, so versatile and all, shy or hungry, will leave you wanting.

Needing more and more like an addiction.

And Ellie is more than happy to supply you with any type of kiss you crave.

#the last of us #tlou #ellie williams #tlou ellie x reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x reader smut #ellie williams imagines #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams headcanons #ellie williams headcanon #tlou x reader #tlou imagines #tlou headcanons #tlou fanfic

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anonymous-dentist · 12 days

Text

Bobby and Roier die together in the midst of a robot uprising 1,678 years after Bobby was born and seven galaxies away. They stop the revolution from happening a thousand years before its time, but at what cost?

Two hours later, Roier sits in another man’s clothes holding Jaiden’s hand as they watch Bobby’s body float peacefully into a black hole. They’re side-by-side sitting in the TARDIS’ doorway, and the universe, for once, is completely still.

“I’m sorry,” Roier croaks, not for the first time. But he’s still surprised by the sound of his own voice, he doesn’t know whose voice it is yet.

Jaiden shakes her head. Tearfully, she leans her head onto Roier’s shoulder.

“Nah,” she says. “Don’t be. He was a hero.”

“He was stupid. I told him not to follow me, and- ugh!”

Roier groans and throws his head back in frustration. God. Damnit!!

Jaiden sniffs. “Don’t be a dick. He saved an entire planet.”

“Yes, and? He still died.”

“So did you, so. So stop moping, okay? Look at him.”

She reaches up with her free hand and guides Roier’s head until it’s facing front again. They watch together as Bobby sinks into the event horizon, and it’s kind of nice, isn’t it? He’s frozen, now. Eternal. You can’t see past the event horizon of a black hole, there’s kinda just nothing beyond it. Just Bobby forever.

Dead.

“I’m looking,” Roier says, words all smushed together by Jaiden smushing his cheeks. “Maybe we should’ve done an actual funeral.”

“This is a funeral. He asked for it, and we gave it to him.”

It’s true. When Roier and Jaiden first met their little stowaway, Bobby hijacked the TARDIS’ controls and steered them towards the nearest black hole just so he could try and kill it. Even after giving up on that whole thing, he insisted that he’d get to fight a black hole one day. He might’ve been a kid, but he was gonna grow up eventually!!

Well. Look at how that turned out, hah.

Roier lets out a quiet laugh through his nose and averts his eyes.

The life of a Time Lord is a lonely one. Being immortal is one thing, but having your entire DNA structure and personality changed every time you die is another. Keeping friends is hard, and keeping them alive is harder.

(Roier curls his left hand into a fist.)

Humans are social creatures, though, and Roier loves them. Sure, he might be a freaky time-traveling alien, but humans are kinda like intergalactic cockroaches, and they can actually cook decent meals, and they were the first creatures in their galaxy to discover the concept of love, so Roier can’t not take them with him when they want to see the stars.

“I want to go home,” Jaiden quietly says.

Roier lets out a breath and nods. “Okay.”

Neither of them moves. They watch their dead son circle the black hole he’s always dreamed of killing, and they cry, and this is it, isn’t it? The end of an era. No more Familioier because Bobby is dead and the Roier that Jaiden met and knew and loved died with him and was replaced with some goofy dude with a new face and new voice and blegh. No wonder she wants to go home, her son is dead and her best friend was replaced with a stranger.

Still. It was nice when it lasted.

So Jaiden goes home. Roier drops her off five minutes from when he first picked her up almost a year ago. He even managed to get her in the right city, hell yeah! (Apparently he’s good at driving now, go figure?)

She hugs Roier and makes him promise to come and get her only when she calls him, and she’ll know if he does some time travel bullshit to get her before he’s ready, because she just knows him like that. She’s his best friend, and she’s the best human he’s ever known.

They hug one more time outside of the TARDIS, and then Roier is alone again.

He slips back into the TARDIS and closes the door behind him. He leans against the wall next to it and looks down at his ring and idly rubs it with his thumb.

“Goddamnit,” he mutters.

Time Lords have 12 ‘lives’ before they die. They change each time, both physically and mentally. It’s some metaphysical biochemical bullshit Roier doesn’t care too much about, but. But he’s on life number 12 now. One more death, and they might even get to see each other in the cosmic abyss. He can introduce him to Bobby, wouldn’t that be nice?

…Nah! He isn’t dead! Sure, he might’ve disappeared during the War, but so did, like, half of the planet, and most of those Time Lords have turned up. Some haven’t, but most have! What’s to say he isn’t any different? He’s probably in jail or something, wouldn’t that be crazy?

Roier smiles to himself. Hell yeah, prison time? Time for prison? He’s only got an infinite number of prisons in an infinite number of galaxies in an infinite number of years to dig through, easy!

He’s halfway to the TARDIS’ controls when he hears it: a quick, panicked-sounding knock-knock-knock on the TARDIS’ doors. Which should not be happening, the TARDIS is literally another dimension stuck inside a box, it’s soundproof! What the fuck!

Hesitantly, Roier goes to the door. His hand hovers over the handle until he hears another round of knocking. Then, he swings the door open to see… a guy.

A very surprised-looking guy. Human, probably, though you can never be too sure these days. Green shirt, messy hair, slight beard, chain necklace leading under his shirt. Nice-looking, if not kinda super visibly terrified out of his mind.

Roier’s son has been dead for an hour and a half. He still hasn’t gotten a chance to see what he looks like now- for all he knows, he could be, like, ugly, ew. His best friend has left him to grieve all by himself because she needed to grieve by herself, and he is starting to get just a little bit annoyed by, like. Everything.

Still, he tries to smile when he asks, “Hello? Can I help you?”

“Um,” says the guy, “hi. Sorry to bother you. But… help?”

Giving Roier absolutely no time to think about it, the man ducks under Roier’s arm and runs into the TARDIS, and he only halfway gasps when he sees the whole pocket dimension inside.

Roier briefly wonders, ‘what the fuck?’

And then he sees what this guy was clearly running from: a bipedal robotic polar bear thing easily the size of a horse running towards Roier and the TARDIS with a gun pulled.

Ah.

Roier closes the door and listens as the bear shoots his beloved spaceship. (Piece of shit…!)

That’ll do it.

#a.d.'s fics i suppose #a.d.'s fics i suppose.#just testing out the au and seeing how it feels

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inklore · 7 months

Text

forbidden cravings

premise: stay in your room; that's all you had to do. a simple demand that you planned on following until something goes bump in the night and you're trapped between two monsters.

pairing: vampire!din djarin x reader x vampire!bo-katan kryze

word count: 5k

contents: blood and biting obviously, oral, threats, murder mention, reader is a little clueless, power imbalance, bo is kinda evil but we love her for it, brief mention of piv.

note: this took me way too long to write and by the end of it i was very tired so hopefully someone out there enjoys this lmao. i could possibly see myself writing more within this little world, maybe.

haunted hoedown day five.

You had never noticed how creaky the house was until tonight. Until you were stuck in a dark, dampened room. Your only light coming from the candle at your bedside, the moon, and the flashes of lightening through the windows. The deep red drapes that match the ones that hang around the four poster bed in the middle of the room, that look ancient and eerie, set your already on edge nerves into a frenzy of fight of flight.

You had dusted this room many times. Have been past the threshold and seen it painted in the daylight.

But never at night.

You were prohibited from being here past nightfall.

The master of the house—your boss—had made it clear upon your first interview a year ago that you’d only be needed in the daytime. That staying after nightfall was not something he needed you around for, and it would be of best interest to the house if you departed once the sun set.

It’s a rule you questioned little. A rule you were fine and happy to obey.

It wasn’t your job to question it. It wasn’t your place.

You were the housekeeper, nothing else. Nothing less. Nothing more.

And you’d never think of going against the lord of the manor, Din Djarin.

The infamous inventor.

The mysterious scholar.

The man with whom you’ve slowly bloomed a friendship with while you’ve worked here. The two of you have spent hours in his library with your fingertips, running along old books, relics he’s come across in his travels, and blue prints for inventions he one day wishes to create.

The pair of you bonding over the love of old words and worlds you wish you could have been a part of.

Working for him and being in his home—the dark gray spiraling staircases, the arched doorways, the black and red wallpaper that look hundreds of years old and yet look like they’d just been done yesterday—was a joy.

A better job than working at the mill or getting by on your looks alone to put food on the table.

You lucked out. Was honored to get the position and even more honored to befriend the destinguishinly handsome Lord Djarin.

His staff soon became like a second family to you. A home away from home—a much more beautiful and sprawling home than your own, but a home in all senses of the word.

Not even the curfew could dampen your love or the job.

The only thorn in your side, the only downfall—negativity—to working for the Lord was his companion, his wife, Lady Kryze.

While most days, the two of you would rarely cross paths. Her off on travel, or in the west wing of the house that you seldom find yourself in.

But when appearance’s were known, brief or not, she always had a look of haughtiness about her. Her red hair laying perfectly on her shoulders, and her dresses always form fitting and beautifully cascading to the floor. The neck line plunged lower than what’s usually considered proper—that always made your cheeks heat when you found yourself rudely staring, a smirk on her lips that quickly got washed away with a scornful arch of her brows.

She had never been rude to you. Had never demanded of you or treated you unkindly the way one would think when you looked at her intimidatingly beautiful face. The power you know she held with just a look, a twitch of a smile, or the flick of her fingers.

She was the opposite of Lord Djarin.

The two seeming an odd match for two people destined to be together.

Your schoolgirl crush on the Lord of the Manor definitely having little to do with your opinion on the fact.

It had been Lady Kryze who had suggested you stay. Almost demanding it, with the weather outside being too dangerous to travel. The winds whistling through the old bones of the house. The rain coming down like heavy hail. The thunder that you could feel deep in your bones each time it rumbled.

Lord Djarin had protested on the matter. Said you could wait out the storm but insisted you leave after.

“Don’t be rude, honey.” Lady Kryze had said. The sentiment, honey, came off more as an insult than as something sweet and tender. The look on the Lord’s face one of strain and frustration. A warning flashed in his eyes before he gave you a tight lipped smile and nodded in agreement.

And now here you are. Dressed in a nightgown that Lady Kryze had supplied you with. The white fabric feeling almost like satin against your chilled skin, the lack of heat coming from the radiator on the other side of the room making you frown as your breasts made it more than clear how your body was reacting to the draft in the room—to the cold storm outside.

The loud thump that startles you from outside of your door tears your gaze from the window and elevates your unease when you put your ear to the dark wood and hear nothing but the old house talking in the way one does in storms or settling.

Lord Djarin had ordered you to stay in your room. To lock the door from the inside and try to get some rest. Assuring you that all was alright, the drafts liked to open the doors at night.

Listening to the plea in his voice that he tried to hide with his endearing smile was enough to convince you not to try it. To listen to his words. To do what had been asked of you without question once again.

But the thump comes again. This time, sounding closer. Perhaps a glass broke somewhere in the hall.

Your teeth chew at your bottom lip in worry.

What if the Lord or Lady needed help? What if they had fallen? The lack of electricity in the house was more than a factor, a reason, for something that could cause a fall. Candlelight only shows so much in these dark halls.

And while there had been no cry for help. No croak, groan, or indication that someone needs help; you can’t help the way your heart escalates or why you ignore the nerves, making your hand shake as you unlock the door, twist the cold handle, and open it a sliver.

Your eyes search the vast darkness of the hall within the tiny space you’ve given yourself. The lit candles in the holders on the wall do little to aid in you seeing anything other than small glows of orange light past the railing that lines the hall.

The words of the Lord push into the back of your mind as you open the door more and poke your head out into the dark space. The strings of lightening outside paint the empty hall in blue light. Streaking against the dark wallpaper hauntingly.

“Lord Djarin?” Your voice is faint compared to the booming thunder outside. A gulp of air fills your lungs when you get enough bravery to step fully out of your room and speak a little louder, “Lady Kryze?”

The silence only pushes you forward.

Has your bare feet cold and weary against the long rug on the hardwood floor. The floorboards creak with each step that you take.

The portraits of unknown people by unknown painters look more intimidating and scary the longer you venture through the hall. The candles shadow their faces in scowls that aren’t normally there in the daylight.

Your fingers dig into the side of your nightgown, bunching up the fabric as your heart hammers against your ribs.

Maybe you should go back to your room. Maybe it was nothing. The rooms with open doors were dark and abandoned. The staircases are bare, and the entryway below, when you look over the rail, is completely encased in darkness.

Maybe it had come from the west wing of the house. Maybe it was a branch outside. Your mind isn’t sure. Isn’t thinking about anything other than getting back to your room, engulfing yourself in the bedspread, and trying to ignore every creepy sound that the storm outside aids in the houses off putting nature.

Being here at night was, in fact, something your nerves could not handle, it seemed.

You sigh. Come to a stop at the last door along the hallway. Your bottom lip sore from your worrying. Whatever the thump was, it’s not something as drastic as your mind had probably come up with, and unless you feel like venturing down the stairs and through the rest of the house, it wasn’t your concern—and the prospect made you shiver knowing some parts of the house didn’t have candles lining the walls.

But when you turn to head back to your room, your body crashes into another, and the scream you let out rings along with a crack of thunder, filtering the hallway into a horrific sound of chaos and fear.

“You were told to stay in your room.”

“Oh my—" your hand flies to your chest. The beat of your heart feels as if it might beat it’s way out of the cavern of your ribs. Your lungs finally fill with the air that had been whooshed out of you when you had collided with the other person once you realized who it was. “Lady Kryze.”

“I was told you listen to directions well,” her smile is pressed and sure. Humorous in the way her eyes move along your appearance. The relief you felt from it being her soon dying when you remember how see through your nightgown is. Your arms cross over your bare chest. “How misguided.”

“I-I was just,” you swallow. Try to get your breathing back to normal. Try to stop the pounding in your ears matching up with the rain outside—with the booms of thunder. “I heard a noise.” You manage to get out. The amused raise of her brow makes your body heat up in something akin to embarrassment or a child running to their mother at night because they are scared.

Lady Kryze hums, “many things go bump in the night around here. It’s an old house.”

“Of course,” you nod. “Yes.” You laugh nervously, breathy, and unsure. Trying to ease the tension that’s growing between the two of you. Worried you might be jobless come morning. “I apologize. I was just worried that you or Lord Djarin may have been hurt.”

“You’re a doctor? Here I thought you were a maid.” Her smile is mocking, unkind. But that’s when you finally take her fully in. With the flashes of lightening through the window at the end of the hall, giving light to the shadows that dance along her face in the candlelight.

She looks…different.

There's a deep red tint to her lips that’s not usually there. You can’t recall the last time you saw her wear lipstick, let alone that shade. Her hair is darker and more unruly at the bottom than usual. Than the sleek look of perfection it’s always at. Her clothes—her dress—stained a deep red and ripped at the top, standing her paler than normal skin out.

Your eyes look down to her nails; they’re longer. Stained the same shade as her lips and her dress.

Somethings not right.

And when your gaze meets hers again, you can see how much darker her eyes look than what you’re used to seeing below that scowl. Bigger. Almost as if her pupils had doubled in size.

Your lack of subtlety seems to give you away when you quickly try to sidestep her and head for your room.

“Now that I know you’re both fine, I’ll just go back to my room now.” You say softly, give her a forced smile as you try to keep your composure and act as normal as you would if you weren’t scared out of your skin.

Lady Kryze laughs under her breath. Let’s you step past her and walk one, two, or five steps before there’s a grip at the back of your elbow and your back is being slammed into the wall. The gasp of your lungs deflates from the pressure puffing out against her face with how close she is.

“Lady Kr-”

“Bo.” She corrects, her eyes wandering down your face, pausing at your lips and the junction where your jaw meets your neck. Swallowing hard before her gaze cascades to your chest, “I always hated the pleasantries Din demanded we go by to fit in with you…humans.”

“You humans?” You give her a quizicall look, too much going on in your nervous system to comprehend her words. To make sense of them when the fear of the emotion in her eyes reads hunger.

And when she laughs again, her smile more genuine than any you’ve seen spread across her perfectly proportioned lips before; you see it. See them.

The pointed teeth that have replaced her normal ones.

The way they gleam off of the orange glow of the candles. The way they make you swallow. Make your chest hurt from the bruising your heart is doing to your ribs from beating so fast.

What is she?

“I thought you were smart? With the way Din talks about you, I imagined you would have figured it out by now. Especially with how close the two of you have been getting.” The accusation makes your heart stop. A cold fear pricking at your insides that makes your skin feel clammy.

The raising of her brow makes the feeling worse as you shake your head. Open your mouth to protest on the matter, to not encourage the accusation that there might be something going on with Lord Djarin and you, her husband.

“Don’t worry,” she smirks. Leans in closer so her lips are ghosting over the shell of your ear as she murmurs, “I like to share.” Your body trembles when her hand leaves your shoulder and her fingers run along the side of your breast. Her pointer skating along your erect nipple, making you gasp softly. “We both do.”

“Lady Kryze–I,” there’s words meant to come out. Words meant to put an end to whatever this standoff, or showdown, is. You’re lost, you’re captivated, and you’re frightened. But her cheeks and lips brush against yours as she moves herself back so she can look at you; her dark eyes make every syllable on your tongue lay thick and weighted down like sludge.

There’s a silence that has enough tension to make your body buzz and your brain catch up to put the puzzle pieces together with the information that has always been laid out for you. Things you took as old family traditions you didn’t care to understand.

The presistant curfew, the eerie darkness that hung over the manor once the sun started to set. The mysterious cases of maids and butlers going missing without a trace. The town just beyond your own’s population dwindling down. Neighbors and friends gone.

Lady Kryze’s dark eyes, her teeth.

“You’re the cause of all the disappearances.” It’s not a question because you already know the answer. The slow spread of her lips only solidified the gathered information in your head to fit neatly in a box of truths. “And,” you swallow, hate how your heart aches at the very thought. “Lord Djarin..he–”

“Is much more discrete than I.” She seems to find a silent annoyance in the statement. In the way your body lets out a shaky breath as if you’re relieved. It makes her eye twitch before she’s leaning in again, her lips closer to yours now. Her breath smells of metal. “He doesn’t like to indulge in the bounty we’ve been given. Says it’s not right to eat thy neighbor.” Her tongue runs across her bottom lip, one of her sharp teeth catching on the skin. “I say, why waste such delicious gifts? And delicious they are, especially the ones who beg. The ones who let me play with my food before I eat it.”

Her laugh makes your body shiver. A reaction she seems to like too much, as her lips skim across yours. The metallic scent of her tongue inhaled by your shaky breaths and swallowed down, leaving your throat dry and your tongue itching to reach out for the source.

The source of it’s weight, the source of the ache in your jaw with the need to drink. A thirst for what you’re sure is water and not the nourishment that’s so clearly painted Lady Kryze’s lips red and her tongue. Your body willing to use any source of fluid to aid you.

Not because the metallic linger of her breath sits on your tastebuds like an open invitation. Not because her fingers are still at the side of your breast, your peaked nipple aching to be brushed over by her again.

“Will you let me play with you?” Her nose brushes yours as her head turns, and her lips just catch the corner of your mouth, a gasp leaving your lips as they move across your cheek and her teeth clip on your jawline. “I know how hard it is for my husband to be near you every day and not sink his teeth into this beautiful neck. You look as good as you’ll taste.”

A moan racks your ribcage when her hand grips the side of your neck, bending it so the other side is on full display and her lips press to the sensitive flesh. Her tongue coming out to run the tip lightly against you, like she doesn’t dare indulge too much. Like it’s an appetizer to what she really wants.

A trail of bruising kisses and hungry noises coming from the woman making your chest heave, your fingers daring to come up to her elbow to grip the fabric of her dress as an anchor—or to pull her closer—you're not too sure what your body wants, your senses not matching up with the fear still plaguing your brain.

“Will you run for me, little rabbit?” You can feel the amusement at her own words with the smirk that’s pressed just below your ear. Your body canting at the derogatory pet name.

Until her next words come out of her mouth in a booming shriek that makes your ears ring and your body recoil from her in defense to protect itself from wrath.

“Run!”

And you do.

Not turning back to look to see if she’s chasing you. All the heat once again drained from your body, any pleasure you had been feeling doused out, and brought tears burning at the corners of your eyes.

The candles on the wall continue to be your guiding light. Even when you step on something that makes you hiss. That tears the skin on the bottom of your foot enough to stutter your sprint. A limp catches in your leg as you try to make haste.

You were foolish for staying here. Foolish for leaving your room. Foolish for not seeing what this house really was or what it’s occupants really were.

Foolish.

If there had been a spell, you had fallen for it. Like a silly little girl.

The closer you get to your chamber door, the harder your heart beats against your ribs. The harder you try to ignore the sting in your heel. The harder it is for you to breathe.

The distance only seems to get further and further away from safety the longer you try for it. The longer your eyes strain in the candlelight to not step on something else that could make you completely imobile. Completely at Lady Kryze’s mercy.

Who you don’t hear behind you.

Who—upon your better judgment, one would say—you look for as you turn your head towards the path behind you. Your blood running cold when you see that all the candles have completely gone out and you can’t see a thing.

The flashes of lightening from the windows down below cascading the barest amount of light onto the floor.

It’s the least of your worries when your body collides with a wall.

Or what feels like a wall—a strained ache coming to your chest upon the collusion, your body thrown backwards as you groan from the impact your tailbone makes against the hard floor.

And when your eyes open, you realize it’s not a wall you’ve collided with; it’s Lord Djarin.

“I told you to stay in your room.” His voice is full of authority and aggravation as he pulls you from the floor. It’s a tone he’s never used on you, a grip on your arm that’s much more cruel than the light touches of fleeting moments spent together.

“She–Lady Kryze–She.”

“Is insatiable, yes.” There’s a growl that’s completely for his wife’s sake and not your own. But the sound still makes your stomach clench. Your body dragged along the hallway by the hands of the man you’re now realizing is more dangerous than any normal man.

A monster.

Like his wife.

And yet, you feel safe in his tight grasp. Feel safe with the memories you share with him. Of him. The man you knew before the monster.

The fear of him never coming.

The fear only comes back once you’ve reached your room, and he’s pushing you through the door only for your back to collide with something icy that grips your wrist and snakes it’s fingers along the column of your neck to hold you against it.

“Bo.” Lord Djarin’s voice is stern. Angry.

“Darling.” You can feel the smile that’s wrapped around the word even without seeing Lady Kryze’s face.

The cold of her body seeping through your night dress and against your skin—a cold that’s not from the fear of what she is rather than what she’s doing. What has stained her lips and tongue and what you wanted so badly to taste just minutes ago. The same deep red clearly stained in the front fabric of your gown that you hadn’t noticed until now.

Until you’re standing in front of Lord Djarin, your night dress more see through and clinging to your body, where it’s damp from blood and straining against your breasts.

Lady Kryze’s grip tightens on your throat, and it makes a breathless noise fall from your lips. A noise that has Lord Djarin’s eyes honing in on your mouth, moving along to his wife's hand on your throat, before plunging down to your chest. A hard swallow and a deep scowl shot at the woman holding you in her vise.

“Let her go.”

“We were just having a little fun. Weren’t we?” Her teeth knick your earlobe, and it makes your body contort against her hold. “See,” she smirks.

“Bo. No.” His tone has finality. Has something that wordlessly lets you know he’s tired of this topic; he’s clearly told her no on before.

Something inside your stomach lightens up and burns at the thought of Lord Djarin denying his wife the pleasure of making you a meal time and time again. Was it out of respect? Care? Want?

Did she want to sink her teeth into you so badly because of jealousy at the closeness you and her husband had found the longer you worked here? No, she said they like to share. Said she likes to share.

Was it want then?

The want to do more than end your life by draining you.

“Come on, Din.” The hand at your wrist does a show of crawling with her sharp nails over your midsection and to your hip to start pulling up your night dress. Your thighs quickly come into view as she bunches the fabric further and further up. A shyness takes over you as you wiggle in her grasp as you watch Lord Djarin’s eyes follow the movement with a hungry look. “We all know you want her.”

Her lips press against your jaw as she murmurs to you, “he never allows himself to indulge in the things he wants. He’s so disciplined. Such a good man. He’d never let it slip that after you leave his library, he bends me over his desk and fucks me the way he wishes he could fuck you.”

An involentary noise that get’s choked out of your throat makes her laugh softly, “tell him he can have you. Tell him you like it.” Your eyes lock with his; his eyes just as dark and monstrous as his wife's now that you’re really looking at them. His lips that deep red—the same red you smelled and craved to taste on her lips.

Your thighs inwardly press together, causing the pressure between them to ease the slightest, but grow worse when your backside pushes back against Lady Kryze and she lets out a noise that sounds just as lovely as she looks.

“Look, Din.” A heat comes to your cheeks as the rest of the fabric of your gown is pulled above your hips, showcasing your nakedness to both of them. “There’s no denying she wants you,” her fingers move down to grip your inner thigh. The clear and evident proof of your arousal—that you’re not sure was caused earlier or right now—coats your skin and her fingers.

“No, she is not-”

“What? Food?” Lady Kryze laughs, “we both know you’d never let me drain her. Nor could you bear to have anything but her essence touch your tongue. But she can be a toy. You can fuck her. We both can.”

You can see the internal battle he’s fighting with himself—against his wife, against what’s right, against his want.

And there’s a part of you that understands. That knows this is wrong. That has barely come to terms with what they are—monsters, myths, and scary stories you tell little children at night to get them to go to bed.

But then the proof of your arousal, of your own want is being toyed with between your thighs as Lady Kryze runs a finger through your wetness. Your hips canting against her hand as she pulls it away just as quick as it was there and holds her finger out to her husband.

“Taste her.”

His head is about to shake; you can sense it. See it before it happens by the way his fists bunch at his sides. Maybe that's why you finally find your voice, “please.”

And it’s as if those are the words he’s been waiting for you to say since the day you’ve met. Since you’ve started working for him. The speed at which he’s against your front and his lips are wrapped around the finger that has gathered the wetness from your pussy makes you feel woozy.

Makes you sway on your feet and loosen in Lady Kryze’s hold. Her nails dig into your flesh as she holds you tighter, keeping you upright for her husband.

Whose finger is under your chin, mouth daringly close to yours as he murmurs, “are you certain?”

Do you want this?

Do you want all it entails if you let this continue?

His dark eyes speak; let you know that he’ll stop this. That while you might be weak in comparison to who they truly are, you have a say, and he’ll do whatever you wish.

A wise woman would heed the warning that’s in the brow he raises. Thats in the descent of his finger down your chin and to your jugular. Your heartbeat thudding against the pad of his finger. His tongue comes out to wet his bottom lip as his eyes cast to your neck and then up to his wife.

Who's giving him a smile you can’t see but can feel in the way her body shifts, pulling your thighs apart easily. Lord Djarin needs no more confirmation for either of you as he falls to his knees, a rough hand cupping the back of your thigh to lift and bring it up and over his shoulder.

Your back arching, and a gasp rakes through your body when you feel the bite of teeth against your inner thigh. Feel the sting of punctured skin, the pull of something inside that’s making your eyes flutter, and the pressure in your lower belly thumping at the same speed as your heart.

When your eyes shift down, when he’s stopped, when you feel like you could either pass out or come from just this, you see blood—your blood—staining his lips and tongue. See his eyes go even darker, black, and void of any human attributes. Making him look entirely like a monster that’s hungry, starved.

And you’ve completely offered yourself up for the taking.

There’s a deep moan coming from Lord Djarin as his fingers and tongue clean his mouth. It’s obscene as much as it is beautiful to watch. Your arousal only grows worse at the sight.

“How does she taste?”

“Exqusite.” He murmurs against your skin, his tongue running over the marks he’s just left in your thigh, working it’s way up to the apex of your thigh. Your legs shake the closer he gets to your pussy.

A cry burns your lungs when you feel him dive into you without any warning. His tongue licking through your wetness, his nose pressing against your clit. The tip of it creates a slow grind that only intensifies when you cant your hips up. When you thrust against the air, his tongue slips inside of you, pushing it further inside. Your fingers dig into the sides of your dress as you try not to completely collapse against either of them.

The pleasure coursing through your body makes that easier said than done.

Lady Kryze is humming against your cheek, her hand coming down to slow the movement of your hips. “Take your time, little rabbit.” She trails kisses and soft bites over and under your jaw to your earlobe, where she lets the tip of her tongue run against it. “Because once you’ve come, you’re mine to play with.”

#din djarin x reader #bo katan x reader #din djarin smut #din djarin x you #bo katan x din #bo katan smut #din djarin x bo katan kryze #din djarin x female reader #bo katan x you #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin fic #bo katan kryze x reader #bo katan kryze smut #hauntedhoedown

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nevernonline · 7 months

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✧.* svt vocal unit as the five love languages.

paring/s: svt vocal unit x reader.

warning/s: physical touch

genre/s: fluffy, bf! svt

synopsis: just the vocal unit as your partner and the different ways they show you they care.

jeonghan: giving & receiving gifts.

loves treating you no matter how big or small. dinner? yes. stuffed animals? yes. this man shows up to home or picking you up from work with a little something to gift you every time. would leave little notes with candies or a stem of your favorite flower on your nightstand if you were sound asleep when he had to leave for work. you'd assume all his silly little gift giving would halt when he had to go away for a while, but every week he'd manage to have something special delivered to your door, maybe t-shirts, magnets, a polaroid of him from tour. (I mean he did travel with a baguette for dk.) when it's time for you to give him a birthday or holiday present you go all out creating small notes and memories from all the speical things he's given you, like a chocolate wrapper he left you or dried pressed flower petals.

woozi: acts of service

no matter how hard this man goes at work, the gym, or on stage he always has time to do something you feel like you can't finish without you asking for it. goes above and beyond cleaning your apartment after a spell of you being too overwhelmed in your own life to do so. you haven't had time to cook a homemade meal for yourself in a while and continue to order out? he would insist on getting help from his friends or a YouTube video to sit around in the kitchen and have something comforting on the table for you. carrying AirPods or headphones for you and always knows without fail if you get stressed he can put them in your ears and play a comforting playlist or audible book for you to wind down. actions speak louder than words is your relationship motto, the things he does for you are enough to tell you how much he cares for you despite being busy all the time. and you don't take that for granted either, you'll pick up dinner for him when he's spending late nights recording and writing, wash his sheets so he can come home and rest well.

joshua: quality time

you have his undivided attention always. you can gossip about work, spend hours on the couch watching cute videos or silly tiktoks talking about how funny you find them and he just finds it endearing. upon meeting him even before you got into a relationship you ended up spilling your whole life story to him and he listened. he always has time to put on a movie and discuss as you watch together, smiling and sitting close. he's always by your side. if you're sick he still manages to find a way to be there, maybe by FaceTime or even sitting outside your bedroom door reading you a book. makes you both turn your phones off during your quality time so there's zero distractions and you can just be present together. loves watching the world through your eyes. he spends so much time with you that even without words he knows how you feel. helps you complete tasks through support!! loves every second of being the person glued to your side.

seokmin: physical touch

understands your body language so much!! you're always linking arms, holding hands, touching knees anything to feel the comfort and warmth of him next to you. you maybe weren't or aren't the most physical person with anyone else, but a seokmin hug after a stressful day makes you feel like the hours before didn't matter. you didn't know real love until you met him and automatically clung onto his magnetic nature. even if you're apart you hold his pillow and wear a shirt sprayed with his cologne like he's right there next to you waiting for the time you can feel his heart beat next to your ear while you're resting on his chest. subtle touching is great, but the clingy stuck like glue touch is your favorite, piggy back rides, him throwing you over his shoulder to carry you from room to room. not even showering alone anymore. just being together, annoying everyone with how cute you are. kisses always are a must!! hands, foreheads, cheeks, knees, lips, it doesn't matter you crave it more than anything else.

seungkwan: words of affirmation

definition of "you're doing great sweetie." srry?? never misses a chance to tell you all the little simple things he loves about you, he just loves you so much. talks about you like you're the only person in the world. gives the worlds best pep talks if your down. the first time you heard him say he loves you made you float for a week and when you finally built the courage to say it back he screamed it even louder. he's a wordsmith always finding new ways to tell you that you matter to him like comparing you to a movie character you really love or that you shine brighter than all the stars in the night sky. kind of cheesy, but he's so cute that it doesn't matter. when he's away he makes subtle instagram or weverse posts of words that you know are mean't for you and you only. LONG TEXTS about things he loves about you or appreciates you for. he's really just grateful you exist and you always believe him.

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bridenore · 3 months

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HD fic recs - disability (physical) / illness

Here are a few drarry fic recs where either Harry or Draco is suffering from a physical disability or an illness, whether it is permanent or temporary. Listed in alphabetical order, as always.

All Life is Yours to Miss by Saras_Girl [114k]

Professor Malfoy’s world is contained, controlled, and as solitary as he can make it, but when an act of petty revenge goes horribly awry, he and his trusty six-legged friend are thrown into Hogwarts life at the deep end and must learn to live, love and let go.

All the Ashes Like Leaves by @firethesound [21k]

Nothing about being the Chosen One had prepared Harry for this. With most of the population blinded and man-eating plants running amok, he can only stay close to his friends as they make their way to safety. Not that he’d call Malfoy a friend, but the end of the world does rather make their ongoing feud seem trivial. And it just figures that it took nothing short of an apocalypse to make Malfoy seem like less of a git.

Balance, Imperfect by @bixgirl1 [91k]

When Harry sustains an injury in the line of work, he no longer knows how to navigate the life he loved, and finds help and solace from the most unexpected source.

Beds, Knobs, and Broomsticks by @fencer-x [46k]

A long-term mission to the Baltics that will take him far away from London sounds like the perfect time to cash in the embarrassing ‘Butler in the Buff’ coupon Harry received as a birthday gag gift—until Harry winds up injured in the field and sent home to recover three days into the mission, obliging him to endure one full month of inappropriate attentions from horny housekeeper Draco Malfoy.

Double Edged Sword by @romaine2424 [554k]

Harry thinks his life has been planned out, but the night he comes of age changes everything. Now there are decisions to be made and a path to be chosen, and the choices before him will change the lives of everyone he knows. But when destiny calls, Harry finds himself ready to listen. This is an epic story of the love between Harry and Draco. Join them as they journey through their life together, through the good times and the bad, facing obstacles both external and internal, and see how they come to be who they were meant to be.

fly like paper, high like planes by @harryromper [47k]

Harry Potter, Head Coach of the Appleby Arrows, is very content leading a quiet life. He has a doddery old house-elf who makes his breakfast, a team of players who love Quidditch almost as much as he does, and a Kneazle that curls against his damaged leg at the foot of his bed at night. The absolute last thing he needs is a fit, tattooed, and wildly talented Draco Malfoy back from living his life on the margins. Soon he’s dealing with goblins for the first time since the war, traveling to Prague, eating dodgy squid, and maybe, just maybe, accepting that Quidditch, Malfoy, and even Harry himself are still capable of change.

A Fruit Tree in Winter by bryoneybrynn [29k]

After failing in his task of killing Dumbledore, life doesn’t go as Draco expected. Sometimes just surviving takes everything you’ve got. And sometimes healing is something you can’t do alone. Story goes AU/AR from the end of Half-Blood Prince.

Hades Paradox by @romaine2424 [32k]

For reasons unknown to most, Draco Malfoy came to Hogwarts soon after the battle and for five years had never left its premises. Auror Harry Potter comes to Hogwarts to deal with his psychological daemons, but soon realises Professor Draco Malfoy has his own magical and physical daemons to deal with. However, much to Harry’s surprise, Draco is coping well with help from the person Harry aspires to be.

The Homecoming of Harry Potter by @vaysh11 [5k]

Harry Potter returns to Britain after four years of exile. He is accompanied by his lover and friend, the young man who brought down Voldemort.

I dream of you, to wake by @harryromper [13k]

“Typically coma patients are made comfortable and left to regain consciousness in their own time,“ Draco points out carefully. “Typically, yes. But when has anything about Harry been typical.” Hermione sighs, rubbing at her eye with the heel of her hand. “The Healer-in-Charge has consulted with experts at all the major wizarding hospitals. They all agree. Whatever’s happening inside of Harry’s head right now is killing him.” Draco Malfoy is a world-renowned dream-walker, and he may be Harry Potter’s only hope.

Kaleidoscope by Saras_Girl [104k]

If Harry’s honest, the last thing he needs is a house full of Draco Malfoy, but partners are partners, and perhaps, the thing he wants the least will turn out to be absolutely everything.

Match Fit by @ravenclawsquill [25k]

After picking up a groin injury just two weeks before the Quidditch World Cup Final, star Seeker Harry Potter reluctantly agrees to seek help from world-renowned Magi-Physiotherapist, Draco Malfoy. Cue sexual tension, naked sports massages, inappropriate erections and a healthy dose of acid-green lycra.

Merlin Works in Mysterious Ways by @lordhellebore [82k]

When Harry is forced to form a Blood Bond with Draco Malfoy under threat of death, he thinks his future will consist of a cold home and sexual frustration. But when a group of left-over Death Eaters decides to stir trouble, their lives change completely – and it takes them both some years to figure out whether it’s for better or for worse.

Oh, Sinnerman by @lou-isfake and @babooshkart [40k]

“I’m serious, Potter,” Malfoy said quietly. “That was some real bad luck you had, being there last night. They will come after you, and they will kill you—after torturing you for information on my whereabouts.” He pocketed Harry’s wand, but held on to his knife, twirling it between his fingers. Harry was distracted by its movement, the reflections of the bright, dawning sun on polished silver. “I’m not happy about it, either, but you’re stuck with me for the foreseeable future.” He watched Malfoy’s face for a long time, in a staring contest he wasn’t sure he’d signed up for. Stuck with Malfoy, for the foreseeable future, on the run from a massive crime syndicate that had infiltrated the Ministry and was out for their blood. It was all very familiar, except for the Malfoy part.

On One's Knees by pir8fancier [33k]

The war is over and to the victors go the spoils. If you are triggered by infidelity, this is not the fic for you.

Per Solum Lacuna: By Words Alone by Azhure [560k]

A set of enchanted journals bring solace to two very unlikely lost souls. Whoever said the art of penmanship was lost? This is a wizarding twist on the old fashioned art of correspondence (or the modern art of Internet chatting). What will happen when the mystery writers finally discover the identity of their counterpart? Join this star crossed pair as they obliviously chat to each other; along the way learning about life and love. Find out what will happen when their own voyages of self discovery lead them to the most unlikely of places. This is eventual HP/DM, but other pairings for the protagonists along their journey.

Renaissance by @dysonrules [33k]

Harry awakens after a long sleep to find things terribly changed. He’s not in an alternate universe… it just seems like it.

Turn by Saras_Girl [306k]

One good turn always deserves another. Apparently.

Unkissed Kisses and Songs Never Sung by @femmequixotic [12k]

I sit silently in the shadows, staring at the tiny, pulsing ball of light that tells me my Harry’s still alive.

Vale Sanare by RurouniHime [23k]

Draco’s world gains a new component, just when he thought he’d sorted everything out.

I hope you enjoy these stories as much as I did!

#my recs #drarry #drarry recs #theme rec

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