a what santa?

we all know he has never had a normal childhood. so why not bring him to the mall for a taste of it? (todoroki shoto)

warnings; none

sfw, gender neutral

“so, what christmas traditions did you guys have as kids?” uraraka asked. everyone sat around in a circle with snacks in the middle, christmas music played in the background as well.

“my mom used to take me and kacchan to see zoo lights when we were small! he loved the lions!” izuku exclaimed, making bakugo grumble in slight embarrassment. “oh how lovely! my family and i went to balls! they were always beautiful and luxurious!” yaomomo said fondly— everyone had mixed reactions. they always forgot how rich she was.

“what about you?” uraraka asked you, she noticed you’d been quiet most of the night— not really talking with unless you were specifically spoken to. “oh— well… we used to go see mall santas. i’d wait forever in those lines…” you smiled a little, recalling how you and your older sister would jump up and down in the line— excited to see ‘santa’. “a… mall santa…?” todoroki cocked his head to the side, he looked both disturbed and confused.

everyone looked at him— shocked that he didn’t know what a ‘mall santa’ was. i mean— even your other ‘rich’ classmates knew. hell— even tokoyami knew! and you were sure he grew up with stories of krampus rather than santa. “roki how— how do you not know what a mall santa is?” sero’s voice held a tone of pity. “well… i hadn’t gone to a mall until i started UA… so…” todoroki suddenly felt embarrassed, and he shrinked into himself.

—

“hey, shoto?” you tapped his shoulder. “hm? oh, hi.” “i’m sorry if i embarrassed you last night at the hang out,” todoroki gave you a look of confusion— you hadn’t embarrassed him at all. if anything, he felt as if he embarrassed himself. “you didn’t— so don’t apologize. i did that to myself…” he looked at the ground with red ears. “well uhm… would you like to… maybe… see a mall santa…?” you nervously asked, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“wh— really?” he looked up, his eyes were wide with excitement. “yeah… uhm— the mall’s santa actually opened up a bit ago, so— i thought that maybe… we could go and you could experience it… since you weren’t able to as a kid.” todoroki gave a small smile, “that’d be nice.”

—

“you ready?” you asked todoroki as he walked into the common area. he gave a nod as he adjusted the collar of his shirt.

the mall was surprisingly tame— considering it was a sunday afternoon. the only busy place was the small ‘santa’s work shop’ area— kids were lined up with their parents, some danced in excitement.

“so… what exactly do we do?” todoroki fiddled with the hem of his shirt, he was very clearly nervous— all because of a mall santa. it was kinda cute, to be honest!!

“well, we wait in line. once we get up there, we can take a picture or two and then some kids tell him what gifts they want.” todoroki nodded, he found the idea of it all to be amusing. “i thought lots of children wanted to see him. why aren’t there a lot?” “hm… i think it’s cause it’s sunday. i dunno… it’s the last relaxing day before some parents jobs’ so they probably just wanna stay home.” he nodded again, this time confused at the thought of someone having a ‘relaxing day’.

again, he’s never had a ‘normal’ childhood. his dad never really took off ‘relaxing days’. the only time he was ever off was when he’d train shoto.

the line grew shorter and then you both were next in line. you’d gotten odd looks from parents, children, and even workers.

“ah merry christmas… kids…” the santa said awkwardly, and he gave his best smile. “hello, it’s nice to meet you. this is my first time.” todoroki spoke, he was always honest. “oh my! well son, what would you like for christmas?” the man did his best santa voice, now feeling bad for todoroki. “uhm… a cat would be nice,” the santa laughed— as well as you. “we can try our best! do you have a second option?” todoroki looked over to you. “uh…” he leaned in and whispered to santa— who had a wide grin on his face. “i’m sure you could do that yourself, kid.”

after taking pictures with the santa, you both decided to grab hot chocolate from one of the mall drink stalls. “soo what was the second thing you asked?” you ‘hated’ that he whispered it— only because you’re a nosy person. “well… i asked if he could help with a date.” you gasped, very surprised at todoroki. “what!? with who!?” he blushed— and his eyes kept switching from yours to the floor. “you…” his left side flared a bit— you could see small sparks of fire coming from his finger tips and cheek. “let’s make this a date then,” you gave him a smile— which made the entirety of the left side of his face flare. “i would enjoy that.”

—

when you both came back to the dorms, it was late— only because, after the mall he took you out to dinner. which you offered to pay for but, he took your wallet away before you could.

“i had a very nice time, shoto.”

“i did as well.”

you both stood there for a few seconds— not knowing what else to say.

but then, you quickly pecked his cheek.

“goodnight!” you yelled— running to the staircases and to your room.

sorry i posted so late!! i’ve been super busy today!!

better late than never tho!!

be sure to follow along lynx’s christmas event!!

Including Men In Sex Positivity: We Can’t Expect Men To Fix Other Men’s Behavior Before Including Them

I was all excited because I found this fairly recent article online talking about how there is a need to include men in sex positivity, and then I read the whole article and pretty much all the author is calling for is for men to listen to women more and to intervene more with other men doing bad things to women.

And I’m like, dude. I don’t think you get it.

Like, if you live as a man, you can listen to women all you want, you can take women’s studies in college, be a raging feminist, pour countless hours in feminist movements and activism, and this will do little to nothing to tear down your internal shame and guilt associated with sex. And in many cases, it might even make it worse if you are listening to the (numerous) women who are ranting about the horrible things men have done to them and have taken it to generalizing negatively about men and/or talking about men as if their sexuality is inherently threatening or inherently bad. Many women are trauma survivors and trauma survivors don’t always exhibit fully rational thinking, as I can testify as I have my own trauma and have struggled with irrationally demonizing people (including men) in the past too.

The men who need to listen to women more are not going to have much overlap with the men who are reading an article on the need for sex positivity for men, written by a woman, on a feminist website.

And then the article starts going into how, after listening to women, men can move things forward by using their male privilege to influence other men, blah blah blah.

I’m really sick of the attitude that all men are responsible for the bad behavior of other men and the idea that feminism is going to move forward by the men who are already engaged in it, doing more to engage other men. There’s a huge assumption in here, which is that all men necessarily have power over other men. In many cases, they simply don’t have this power at all, and in the few cases where they do, it is limited and highly situational.

I have a story about this. When I was in middle school, there was a (heteronormative) exercise we were given in home economics class, in which they divided the class into girls and boys and had us, in groups, list what qualities we found attractive in the opposite sex. I was put in the boys group. The group was dominated by a small group of kids who were loud and a few of whom would actively bully me. Really quickly they started writing down objectifying stuff that I didn’t relate to. I knew that if I spoke up, I would just get bullied and shut down. So I was quiet, and the group drew up and presented a list of really objectifying, misogynistic things that did not at all reflect what I (or even what the majority of the people in our group) actually believed.

The teacher, who to her credit was pretty aware of the social dynamic, realized what had happened and then kinda publicly shamed the boys who had written the list, and then excluded those boys and asked the rest of us to come up with our own list after-the-fact. Interestingly, the list we came up with was not at all misogynistic and focused on personality and behaviors rather than appearance.

But what is the lesson here? The solution wasn’t for boys to police boys. Boys policing boys had been failing for months because the culture was persisting on its own. The solution was for an authority figure to step in and prevent a small subset of more aggressive boys from dominating the conversation. And in this instance, the authority figure happened to be a woman, proving that it doesn’t have to be men who take action. The person’s gender wasn’t even important, the key was that the person had the power and authority to shut down the boys whose behavior was problematic.

Out in the real world, black men and other BIPOC men often aren’t in a position to speak up against white men who are engaging in misogynistic behaviors, especially in racist settings. Why? Because they don’t have power and authority. If they tried to speak up, they might even be subjected to violence. The same is true of queer men and GNC men as they are often less likely to be taken seriously and more likely to be subjected to derision or violence. Neurodivergent men also have a really hard time. They might misread a situation in the first place and make a fool out of themselves, and they might feel afraid of getting involved even if they think something is bad, because of past experiences with humiliation after they misread a situation (I know I struggled with this a lot when younger.) And they might not say or do the “right things” and they might end up targeted in a situation where they try to help. And socioeconomic status is a factor too. Men of high social status and wealth can get away with behaviors that a lot of people couldn’t and people of low status certainly couldn’t. Just look at all the examples of some rich white college student sexually assaulting someone at a frat party and getting away with it because his dad has connections. People of high status are often able to get off the hook for crimes through lawyers and connections, whereas in an altercation, people of low status are more likely to end up getting charged with a crime, convicted, and put in jaiil.

So...look at how this topic had gotten derailed. I started by searching for information about how to include men in sex positivity, and now I’m talking about how men are expected to police other men but in reality, they’re usually powerless to do so.

This is a serious problem in feminism, and I have news for you. For once, the problem here isn’t men. It’s women (and some men and others who join and support their voices) who are failing at intersectionality, blaming all men for a problem that is really limited to a specific subset of men, and expecting men who have no real power to do anything about these men, to do something.

It’s time for us to include men in sex positivity. And including men does not mean that we insist that men stop other men who are engaging in bad behaviors before they get included and supported. Including men does not mean insisting on men listen to women say the same things over and over again before their own voice gets included and heard.

If we don’t change our approach, this issue is never going to progress. We need to include men in the sex positive movement now. And we need to include these men with an understanding that they are responsible for their own actions, but not the actions of other men. We need to stop assuming that men all have inherent power over other men. And we need to start examining the racism, classism, ableism, and other bigoted assumptions in the expectation of men to solve all these problems themselves. And we also need to start examining the ways some self-identified “feminists” talk about men and male sexuality that is deliberately excluding them from sex positivity and from feminism in general, i.e. talking about men as if they are inherenetly bad and specifically talking about male sexuality and male attraction to women as if it were inherently predatory, and how this idea not only excludes men from sex positivity and feminism, but it also lets men off the hook when they engage in bad behavior, and wrongly targets the men who do not engage in these behaviors.

Yeah.

thinking about my own transgenderism and thinking about my earliest internal comprehension of knowing i was different and akin to something i didn’t have the words for yet and thinking about all of the children’s stories of little animals experiencing loss and heartbreak and learning bravery and love and hope through tragedy and through their heroism in the face of all that fear and impossible odds, they gain some form of rebirth that gave my young bewildered heart a deep sense of comfort and self recognition and inevitably shaped me into who i am today

Surprise Conversations

Pairing: 10th Doctor x reader (intended as platonic)

Pronouns used: They/them (gender neutral reader)

Summary: When life isn’t great for you, a strange man talks to you when you’re at your lowest. 

Word count: 2,345 (edited)

Warnings: Intrusive thoughts, mentions of self harm, suicidal thoughts/tendencies, self deprecation

(A/N): Wrote this as a sort of vent/comfort within the span of 3ish hours and it’s currently 6:30 in the morning. This takes place sometime between Martha and Donna. Enjoy and ignore the awful title and writing pls

    ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

It was always behind you, looming over your shoulder and breathing down your neck with saccharine addled air. You breathed in that oxygen against your will; sometimes that was the only way you could get through the day. Other times, it was the thing that ruined your perfect day. 

It whispered in your ear whenever you made a mistake, no matter how small. It only started yelling whenever you started to decline, escalating to screaming when you were at your worst. You could swear that your eardrums were tattered beyond belief and that you could hear the remnants of the voice in the back of your mind whenever it wasn’t there, but you just chalked it up to the pains of growing up and becoming an adult. 

You listened to it sometimes. You listened to it when it told you that you were a failure for getting anything besides a perfect score on a test. You listened to it when it told you that you were incapable of love when you and your childhood best friend started to drift apart. You listened to it when it told you that slashing at your skin with the razor blade you had unscrewed from a handheld pencil sharpener would solve your problems. And for the most part, you felt as if it was best that you listened to it. 

There were times that you ignored it, though; this was usually whenever it’s ideas were too drastic for the situation. It called for you to jump when you came across ledges and bridges. It beckoned you towards the knife block and commanded you to stick them all in your abdomen. It wants you to jump onto the rails whenever you are boarding a train. 

Ignoring it was hard, but doable when you didn’t have anything to stress out about. A couple of cuts and you’d be good to go for the day. It would be silent. 

That was until things started to pile up. Bill due dates were getting closer and closer, friends were increasingly leaving, your debts were growing larger and larger, and your family was basically nonexistent in helping you with your problems. So you decided to finally give in and listen to everything the voice told you to do. 

You found yourself at your favorite part of the city you lived in: the bridge overlooking the ocean. It had a perfect view of the moon and it’s beams glistening on the ever moving waves. It gave you some comfort that things would continue after you would be at your end. It was beautiful and you’d be damned if you didn’t at least have something to see before you died. 

You were sitting on the ledge, feeling the salty sea breeze raise the goosebumps on your skin. Your grip on the metal bars was tight, almost as steely as the beam itself. Your feet dangled over the abyss limply. 

“Hey.” A voice broke through the quiet, making you jump out of your skin and almost lose your grip on the bars. “Sorry,” they awkwardly coughed. A figure came to a seated position next to you, dragging your eyes off from the waves below. 

The first thing you registered about him was the gravity-defying hair slightly being shifted by the breeze. In the back of your mind, you wondered how much gel he had to use to get it to stick up like that. The second thing you noticed was the way he looked at you. His eyes were expressive, probably more so than the average person. They were a deep brown color, the pupil almost blending in with his iris. 

“So, I assume you aren’t out here for a little stroll?” He glanced at you out of the corner of his eyes and gave you a sliver of a smile. You shook your head and returned to looking over at the ocean. He sat with you in silence for a moment before he spoke up, “what’s your name?” 

“Why do you need to know?” 

“I like meeting new people,” he shrugged. “If it makes it easier, I’ll tell you mine: I’m the Doctor.” 

“Doctor who?” You asked skeptically.

“Just the Doctor,” he grinned widely. 

“Well Doctor, it’s strange that you’re making small talk with someone sitting on the ledge.” 

“Like I said, I like meeting new people… Nice day outside, isn’t it? Or should I say night?”

“Yeah,” you hummed quietly. Silence enveloped you both once more, only the sounds of each other’s breathing and the occasional shuffle being heard whenever one of you moved. It was starting to unnerve you, so you decided that telling him your name wasn’t going to do any harm. “(Y/n).”

“What?” He asked quietly.

“(Y/n). That’s my name, don’t wear it out,” you sighed out the last phrase. Normally, you would’ve said it with a large grin and happiness exuding from your every feature but you just felt numb. 

“(Y/n),” he said slowly, as if getting a feel for your name, “that’s a lovely name. It suits you, you know. Nice to meet you,” he stuck a hand out towards you and gave you a smile that almost melted the numbness that froze you. You stared at it for a moment before slowly moving to grasp his hand in yours and give it a firm little shake.

“Likewise,” you mumbled. He jumped slightly when your cold skin met his warm hand, looking at you in alarm. 

“You’re freezing,” he said before shrugging off his trench coat and laying it across your shoulders. An instant warmth enveloped you, making you unconsciously lean into the warmth. He was warm, incredibly warm. When your nose brushed against the collar, you caught a slight whiff of cologne and… something that you couldn’t place your finger on. Maybe apples or grass? Or a mixture of the two, you didn’t ponder on it. The Doctor was warm and he smelled good. 

“Well being cold is the least of my worries right now, Doc,” a small chuckle left you. You gestured at the water below you wordlessly. It was then that you noticed his slightly beaten up off white converse shoes. “Nice shoes by the way. Not my definition of dress shoes, but at least you aren’t running around barefoot. I respect it.” 

“Thanks,” he grinned, wiggling his feet in the air slightly, “they’re my lucky pair, haven’t failed me yet.”

“You know, you could use a magic eraser or something to get those dirt stains off from them.”

“Why would I do that? These stains are memories,” he pointed to a slightly purple spot. “This is when R- an old friend accidentally ran into trouble with some nasty things.” He pointed to a small grass stain, “this is when I was running with Martha.” 

He had a fond smile on his face as he started to tell you stories about his adventures with his friends. There was Martha, the brilliant doctor (also a doctor, interesting) that almost matched his intelligence. Then there was Sarah Jane, a gifted journalist with a knack for discovering and defending the truth. K-9. Romanas I and II. Peri. Grace. Susan. Kamelion. It was as if this man had lived several lifetimes. 

“It sounds like someone’s lived quite the life,” you mused when the conversation fizzled out. 

“I have,” he nodded, an almost hidden wistfulness in his tone. “Now what about you? I feel like I’ve been hogging the conversation.”

“No, you’re fine; I liked hearing about your friends. As for me, well my life’s just not important.”

“Not important,” he scoffed. “Impossible. I’ve never met anybody who’s life wasn’t important. Everybody has a story, what’s yours?” 

You were silent for a moment before you took a deep breath. What’s one more hour of conversation? It wasn’t like you had any time constraints. You diverged into sharing some aspects of your life, just the small things that wouldn’t normally make any normal person bat an eye at. 

But the Doctor wasn’t a normal person.

You didn’t mean that in a negative way, no far from it. He actually was invested in what you had to say, not just politely nodding along. He asked you questions about what you were talking about, subtly pushing you to elaborate further. Soon enough you both were laughing like you were old friends catching up with each other. If anybody drove past you both, they probably would have thought you both were insane. 

“You actually did that?” He asked incredulously through his snickering. 

“Yes, I was a gullible kid. Not my fault that I’d do anything for a quarter and a cool looking rock,” you smiled and leaned your head against the metal bar behind you. “Everyone thought I was going to become a geologist when I got older with how much I’d hoard rocks in my room like there was no tomorrow. Made Mum cross with me for bringing dirty things into the house, but she never found the stash I had in the basement. I actually think that they’re still there, hidden in a box collecting dust.” You sighed and tightened your grip on the bars, “there’s no appeal in rocks when you grow up and see that the little sparkles and colors in them are just… imperfections that should be ignored.” 

“The little imperfections I see in rocks,” he began, pinching a small bit of loose concrete between his pointer finger and thumb and brought it up to his face to examine it. “Are the things I refuse to ignore. They’re charming and separate it from being just a hunk of slate you find in a rock garden.”

“I feel like that’s some sort of analogy.” 

“That… wasn’t what I was intending, but I do suppose that it could be one.” He turned to squint at you, placing the rock back onto the ledge next to his thigh. You squinted back at him, wondering what was going through his head. A smile ghosted across his face before he laughed to himself. 

“What?” You asked him.

“Nothing,” he chuckled, “it’s just that we’ve talked all night.” He jutted his chin towards the sun rising over the horizon casting oranges and pinks onto the water in place of the moonlight that resided there previously. 

“We have,” you said in surprise. The sun’s rays warmed you slightly, but you didn’t want to move away from the shelter of the trench coat. It gave you a strange sense of comfort. You both watched the sun rise out of the ocean and take its place high in the sky. Traffic started to bustle as people started their morning commute to work, some craning their necks in their cars as they drove by to look at you and the Doctor. None stopped to talk to you. 

“Say, (N/n),” he started.

“(N/n)?” You asked as the corners of your lips quirked upwards. The nickname made you feel warm inside, it felt nice. 

“Yes, (N/n); I think it suits you well. Anyways (N/n), if you were to choose a time and place in all of time and space, where would you like to visit the most?” 

“Anywhere? Like, even on a planet trillions of light years from Earth?” You asked him, watching him nod curtly. “Yes, but there are some rules. You can’t interact with your past self or change a point that was destined to happen. Wars, deaths, births, things like that.”

“Ah, so the general movie rules of time travel?” He grumbled to himself (something along the lines of ‘those are wildly inaccurate’) before he nodded once more. 

After a bit of contemplation, you supplied him with your answer. A spark in his eye appeared, similar to the spark he got when he talked about his friends but slightly different. He slowly got up and stretched his lanky limbs out, cracks coming from the joints and small groans leaving him whenever the stretch was apparently good. 

He looked down at you and, with a grin, extended his hand to you. “(Y/n), would you like to come with me? See that place you wanted to see?” 

You found yourself staring at his hand for the second time that night. Thoughts of stranger danger circulated through your mind before you realized that if he wanted to harm you in any way, he would have done it by now. He wouldn’t have talked to you for hours on end, making you feel like you had a small sliver of yourself back again. 

Why not? One little detour couldn’t hurt; you had a good feeling about going along with him. 

You grabbed his hand and allowed him to pull you up to a standing position. He gave you a small lift so that you could hop over the barrier before he catapulted his body over it. With an arm wrapped around your shoulders, he led you away from the bridge. You both got strange looks from the people driving past, but you managed to ignore it when you burrowed yourself deeper into the trench coat and he brought you closer to him. He led you to an old navy blue police box, much to your confusion. 

“Well, Mx…”

“(L/n),” you supplied.

“Well, Mx. (L/n), welcome to the TARDIS.” 

One trip turned to two. Then three. Then four. Then several more. It became normal to come home from work to see the man waiting for you comfortably in your small apartment, brightening up whenever you walked through the door and asking you excitedly about what you had in mind for your next adventure. 

Soon enough, the voice became something that would only come to you on your bad days, becoming largely dormant in your mind. Whenever you had a bad day, you finally had someone to confide in. Someone that wouldn’t judge you, someone that wouldn’t tell you that you were being overly dramatic. 

The Doctor was different from the normal person; he was the Doctor and you wouldn’t want to have it any other way. 

I'm in need of some Andrea smut every time I read something about him there is no sex because this was in the 30's and it would be inappropriate to do it before marriage. So...let's get inappropriate (?

no mommy kink please, i can't cope with that

Actually this was going to happen v/ soon in my fic of Andrea BUT I'll write a quick drabble/one shot for you bc same! we need that in our lives :) I'll be doing gender neutral reader for dis ;) Warnings!! 18+ , loss of virginity, perhaps slight edging? oral on reader (female presenting) and NO mommy kink per request :)

Rules were rules. Marry a nice man, then lose your virginity. You had been following those rules. Even now, you lived alone in a small cottage on a hill. And you still haven't lost it. You never felt inclined too really...and you were fine with that. It's just everyone in the village usually was a kid or a senior. No one was around your age, so you preferred a secluded kind of life. 

 Even if that meant following rules you didn't want to follow. You hated that you didn't have a choice. You hated how your parent's voice replayed in your head over and over. Telling you “wait! get married first!” You were sick of it, you were desperate sure, not desperate enough to lose it to whoever you met, but then...

 a new boy showed up, you learned his story since you were a bit close with Janet and Ursula, the old sisters who were housing the young man. So you met him, and god... he was just your type.

Plus they invited you over so he could play for you? meaning the violin. At first, you felt a little out of place... until he started playing. Needless to say, he was more than talented than you expected. You’d never heard anything like it, afterward, he wanted to talk to you surprisingly. 

“What is you name?” he tried his best to speak, you were told his English wasn't the best so you found it more endearing than anything and applauded his effort since he’d only been here for a few weeks. So you looked to him, sitting beside you with wide eyes and rosy cheeks. His hair was a bit shaggy as he shook the hair out of his eyes.

“Oh, my name is (y/n).” You gave a warm smile, shifting in your seat to face him more. “And you are Andrea, yes?” and he nodded before he repeated your name warmly, and honestly you loved the way it sounded in his mouth.

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

Weeks passed, you visiting, Andrea playing for you, afterward, you would talk to Andrea, his English noticeably getting better. And sometimes he would even be a bit of a flirt. So one day you just asked the sisters if they would allow you to take him into town. You did your best to sound as friendly as possible and it seemingly worked.

You showed him a few of your favorite places, took him dancing to the pub. Though he wasn't a very good dancer, you had to kind of show him. Guiding his hands to land on your hips and pull you close, telling him to watch your feet as he got red because honestly he couldn't help but stare at your face. 

Then finally he asked to see your home. And you couldn't help be nervous, he had been making eyes at you all day, smirking like a cat with cunning eyes. Like he had so much more in that head of his, thoughts that he wasn't sharing. Plus he was already holding hands with you, keeping you close to him as he kept calling you ‘Liebling.’ And of course you didn't refuse him, not at all. So by the time, you were halfway up the path on the mountain and he slowly stopped walking, staring at you with a sweet smile. 

“Something the matter Andrea?” you questioned- confused as to why he had stopped. He moved slowly, stepping closer to you, leaning in, quickly pressing a kiss to your cheek. Then backing away, checking your eyes for permission. You nodded and Andrea knitted his brows together, exhaling through his nose as he slowly moved to press a kiss to your other cheek. Gently. Wonderfully. Then your forehead. The tip of your nose, then finally his mouth hovered over your own. Breath shaking with feverish anticipation.

You ached to lean in and finish what he started, but you wanted to see if Andrea would do it himself, and after about 5 nervous seconds you felt him roughly slot his lips against your own.

You were lost, blindly lost to pleasure and yearning. You barely realized the way you pulled him up the hill, mouths slotted together as you rushed backward, your back soon up against your door, your hands at his waistband, he moaned against your mouth.

And soon enough you were turned around and inside and he was walking backward as you led him to your bed. Pushing against his chest as he sat and you climbed his lap. Kissing him so harshly you felt your teeth clink against his own, embarrassed you pulled back, your hand coming to your lips. 

“I apologize, Andrea-” You were breathless, with shy eyes and flushed cheeks. 

He looked the same, though less embarrassed. More lustful than anything. 

“No, no-” He started softly. “You are wonderful.” He spoke slowly, catching your eyes as he brushed your hair out of your face with his thumbs. Putting a strand of hair behind your ear lovingly. 

“But...I need-” He started up again, and he groaned out, almost a whimper really, like he was in pain and that's when you felt something poke against your inner thigh, and then you understood. You ground forward and watched as his mouth fell open. Andreas eyebrows furrowing, his face growing red, a moan caught in his throat.

“Oh, you wonderful creature.” You mused. Almost amazed at the power you held over him. So you did it again and again until he was begging for you to let him cum. 

“Please...Please (y/n)-” He buried his face into your neck, his large hands on your waist, fingers digging in deeply, his shoulders going tense at your dry humping. 

A part of you was nervous honestly. You didn't know if Andrea was also a virgin, but judging by his closeness already ...you were gonna bet on the fact he was, but then again you didn't know what you were doing anyway. 

So instead, you simply stopped. And he stopped breathing. He was frozen actually, and you wondered why, a part of you wanted to laugh, he was curled up into you, unmoving, holding you. 

“Andrea?” you questioned and finally he moved, looking up at you, 

“I do something wrong?” he slowly drawled out, voice tiny and nervous and you shook your head. “No, of course not I just...have you ever done this before?” It was your turn to be tiny and nervous now, especially self-conscious. 

He gulped, Andrea understood. And he slowly shook his head ‘no’

“I'm sorry,” he whispered and it almost broke your heart. 

“Oh my love, no! You have nothing to be sorry for. I have never...done this... either. So it's okay Andrea. And...and honestly, we don't have to do anything if you don't want to.” You cupped his face, giving him a warm smile and he returned one. Slowly pressing a kiss to your lips. 

“I want you.” He whispered after breaking the kiss barely. 

And that was all you needed to push him back on the bed so he was laying down. You climbed atop him, undoing his pants slowly. He raised himself on his elbows, watching you, breathing heavy, eyes flickering back and forth between you and your hands. 

And suddenly he took your hand, putting it away from him. Softly and gently and lovingly.  “first you. Let me...help.” He muttered, looking to you for permission and so you switched roles and he was helping you undress from your light dress. 

And you were naked and self-conscious and nervous in front of him. 

But he was smiling, eyes running over your perfect form. You were perfect to him, everything about you, even the things you considered a flaw, he would reach out, brushing his fingertips lightly over them. He muttered how you were beautiful before reaching with both hands to your thighs. Parting them slowly, gently as all his movements were. 

He slowly moved off the bed, to his knees as he pulled you to the edge of the bed, your legs over his shoulder, his eyes on yours, looking up to you the entire time. Your hands gripped the blankets harshly and nervously. But you nodded at him and he leaned forward, delving his tongue over your entrance. And you moaned, the feeling making you throw your head back. 

And he did it again, though opening his mouth even wider, taking you into his mouth, his tongue lapping up your wetness. Moving up to run over your clit. And you shivered, sensitive all over. 

He realized that was the spot, so he did it once more and got the same reaction, actually an even bigger one. Your back was beginning to arch. Toes curling. 

And he kept eating you out- tongue sometimes delving into you, into your warmth and he would moan against your wetness and heat. Eyelashes fluttering and closing as you would spread your legs further, pushing your cunt against his mouth- thighs shaking and quivering as you felt a knot of heat in your lower stomach slowly coming closer and growing bigger. And finally you were gripping his hair, pulling as he whimpered against you. 

“Oh Andrea- Andrea Im so- Im going to-” You could barely get a full comprehensible sentence out before your thighs were convulsing around his head and your back arching and a loud moan was drawn out from deep within you moaning- screaming his name as a intense orgasm slapped you right across the face, and god- you were exhausted in all honesty. You even fell back on the bed, his tongue still on you though as if he couldn't get enough, nose sometimes even nudging up against your clit as he hungrily and greedily tasted everything in you. 

And as much as it was amazing soon you were becoming over sensitive and with each lick and moan of his against your pussy you were being shocked, body twitching and you pulled back, breathless, a mess for a lack of a better term. 

And you began to chuckle as well as he rose up now, smirking at you, his lips and chin, all slick with your wetness and his own spit. And you grinned right back at him, and pulled him down to meet your mouth as you kissed him, without a care in the world. It was almost satisfying to taste yourself on Andreas tongue. 

But finally you broke the kiss, cupping his face as you knew what came next. “Your turn my love.” You muttered. Sitting up now as you went for his belt, undoing it slowly, hoping he wouldn't stop you again. Though it was worth it last time. But he allowed you to- Andrea even began unbuttoning his shirt. Throwing it to the floor along with your dress, as you followed up with taking off his belt and pulling the pants away- his cock finally free and hard. Fully upright, beads of pre-cum forming at his reddened tip. He was so desperate, it was clear in his expression. Mouth slightly agape as he watched you. 

You thought for a moment, wondering on what you should do now. On what position and honestly how all of this was gonna go. A part of you was scared as you shuffled back on the bed, and patted the space beside you, signaling him to come be by you, but first he began shuffling out of his shoes, then along with his pants until he was fully naked. The look on his face signaling he didn't want you to feel self conscious with him being half clothed, so he decided he too would be fully undressed for this.  He moved beside you now, huffing out a short breath, nervous. It was clear so you pulled him close, kissing his jawline softly.  “Lets go slow, yes?” You mumbled to him softly. He looked up at you, shoulders tense as he nodded. “Yes mien Liebling.” he whispered back, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he furrowed his brows again for you were laying back now, resting your head on the pillow as you slightly spread your legs for him to fit in between. So he moved to lean over you, head of his cock teasing against your lower belly softly, it made him whimper as you couldn't help but giggle as you looked up to him, he looked beautiful this way.  “Should I- uhm..” he stuttered, cheeks burning red as he lowered himself slightly, trying to align himself with your entrance.  “Yes Andrea- go ahead.” You bit at your lower lip, eyes gazing as he closed his eyes, throbbing tip budding at your opening, he pushed his hips forward, his tip sliding in before it slipped upwards, you really were that tight- though you felt bad, for if you were more relaxed it would've gone in easier. “I apologize-” you mutter, exhaling shakily but he shakes his head.  “No- not your fault.” Andrea shares a calming smile, his eyes shining as he looks deeply into your eyes.  “I try again.” he reassured and positioned his cock to your entrance once more, this time sliding it in your slickness and heat easily. You held your breath, feeling him stretch you wide, Andrea on the other hand groaned out, whimpered as his head fell into the crook of your neck. You couldn't imagine how sensitive he must be at the moment.  He kept sliding in until he couldn't anymore, and he filled you to the brim, you felt so full and couldn't help but moan softly, your hands going to the back of his nape, playing with his hair, twirling it around your fingers, admiring the feeling of his warm body atop of yours, holding you. he stayed still, immediately understanding you would need some time to adjust. So you two stayed still, breathing and trying to figure this all out, he lifted his head, and you just stared at him until the two of you broke into small laughter. Warm chuckles filling the air around you, and you caught his lips softly, he laughed into your mouth even- so shy and nervous, Andrea couldn't help it. But after a minute of kissing and nervously giggling you finally felt ready. You broke the warm kiss. And caught his eyes. “Andrea I think I'm ready...move...please?” You muttered shyly- you didn't want to sound demanding but were soon relived when he just smiled at you. Giving you a look as to say “of course.”  And he pulled out halfway, inhaling deeply as he then slid back in setting up a pace, not to fast not to slow, just right honestly. And that's when you felt the pleasure slowly beginning to take over the slight discomfort. When he soon began pumping into you like a animal in heat. You moaned his name over and over, arching your back as you watched his face turn desperate. He would mutter in polish and German. whispering into your ear and you couldn't help but scratch at his back. He changed his angle slightly, cock hitting your g-spot. 

“Oh! Oh Andrea you- oh fuck.” You cursed, closing your eyes. “Yes harder please.” you moaned out, feverishly. Everything felt so hot, you were even sweating across your forehead slightly.  And he did as you commanded, pushing harder, fucking into you, moaning brokenly each time he pushed in. The squeeze of your pussy around him making him lightheaded even. He dropped his head to your chest eventually. Tongue finding its way to your nipple. Opening wide and sucking on your breast. And you felt so sensitive, everything overwhelming you but in the best way possible. 

“Oh yes, yes-” you chanted, breathless and suddenly wrapped your thighs around him, flipping the two of you over so you were on top, he gasped- eyes wide as he looked to you, his face becoming flushed once more- the sight of him was enough to push you to the edge as you began to bounce on his cock, suddenly reaching you climax, steadying yourself by putting your hands to Andreas chest- your back arching as you clenched around his cock, falling forward now- pushing your lips together. 

He kept thrusting into you though- desperate to cum inside, “Please- please.” He begged for release, closing his eyes as you groaned softly, your insides sensitive as you sat back up, and it only took 2 bounces on his cock for Andrea to be moaning out your name- as he gripped your thighs and soon you felt his warm seed fill you up, he whimpered and fucked into you harshly now- sitting up and pulling you close, fitting his mouth over your tit to muffle the shameful sounds spilling out of him. 

As he fucked through his climax he soon began to slow down, exhausted as you moaned- feeling him suck your nipples softly now, closing his eyes as his breathing calmed. 

You ran your fingers through his hair softly. Kissing the top of his head- satisfied now and he now popped off your tit, lips a bright color that matched his cheeks. He smiled at you and you grinned back, pressing a kiss to his nose. You raised yourself off of him, and you felt his warm seed inside of you, you adored the feeling as you rolled off and laid down- he lowered himself to be by you. 

“You were amazing Andrea- absolutely wonderful.” You sighed softly as his hand reached your stomach, drawing invisible lines with his fingers over the soft skin. Andrea shyly smiled now. “Danke.” he whispered in German, you knew what it meant and chuckled softly. 

“Im sleepy.” you whispered, and it was true- your eyes were heavy and Andrea nodded. “Sleep.” he kissed your cheek warmly. And so you did, you fell asleep to him cuddled beside you, humming a tune that was familiar to you. 

StoryTeller

****

Fandom: Black Clover

Character(s): Lemiel

Readers Gender: Gn

Warning(s): 

****

You were a personal maid for Tetia ever since you were both young. You remember meeting the young Lemiel. You were washing dishes when the prince walked in and when he first met you he fell in love.

You were always dragged around by him. You remember how you both would go on walks together.  But you always remember you can’t love a royal, you are nothing but a servant,maid, a commoner, how can you be with him.

But he didn’t care which surprised you, “I don’t care Y/n  i love you no matter what and no matter what your mine” “I love you too my prince”. 

Of course rumors were going around and it was weird being looked at but you didn’t care. Meeting the elves was fun and you and Tetia would just talk about Licht and Lemiel for hours. 

“So you watch me sleep” “Hey you weren’t supposed to hear that” “But i must say thank you but you are the most beautiful thing in this world” “Lemiel” “Come on now let me go show you my newest idea”.

One day a couple of elves called you over wanting to play with magic together. You did but they asked you, “Hey Y/n want to train together”. You have never trained before but it sounded fun. 

You ended up with cuts and bruises and Lemiel begged you not to do it again. 

“N/n please never do that again what if you got badly injured” “I know Lemiel i’m sorry” “Don’t apologize just come here”. Lemiel held you in his arms as you both stood there for the whole time.

But as you trained you asked the elves why they did it.  “To protect the ones I love”, you had to be there with Lemiel. You were still guilty about how you couldn’t really do much with helping Tetia.

“Y/n stand back” “But what if-” “I got this Y/n”, you watched with fear in your eyes but it all went away seeing the three were safe. “Lemiel, Tetia are you guys okay” “We're fine Y/n”.

For time learned how to use a sword and the cleaning skills and other skills you had helped a lot.  

You were helping cook a meal for the family as when you called over Tetia she came over to hug you. “Woah Tetia you alright” “Would you want to be a bridesmaid” “Wait don’t tell me” “Yes!”. 

“So my sister told you the news” “Yep i can’t wait i’m so happy for them” “Don’t worry Y/n are wedding will come soon enough”

“So you're going to be a bridesmaid weak” “F/n don’t be rude i’m glad to be one” “Just saying but hey save me some cake” “I thought you were going to go?” “Nope got stuff to do” “Don’t tell me still nervous to be next to Secre” “No i just don’t want to go and hey you know i love you more” “Awe but you're still so young” “F-off”.

“Hey i know you're excited but let me finish” “Okay, okay i will just i’m excited” “I know but tell me do you look great or do you look great” “Thanks Y/n” “Now come on i’ll be outside waiting for you”.

You were happy for Tetia soon that will be walking down an aisle as Lemiel stood there waiting for you. It made you smile. Soon you will have your own kids and you and Lemiel can live happily ever after. 

But you spoke too soon, an attack came on. Everyone was attacked as you tried to look for Lemiel. Then your eyes soon met with seeing Tetias injured body you knew she can die so came to her side as Secre did. You told Secre to go help Lemiel with the giant demon as you stood with Tetia.

She survived and one of the twins survived. The news hit you that Lemiel and Secre didn’t survive and that they had died. You remeber you looking for him and him holding you in his arms but the giant demon was causing chaos but it felt like time stopped when he looked into your eyes as he smiled kissing your forehead. “I promise Y/n i’ll return ''.

But he never did with a broken you had spent two years trying but you made sure his story became a legend as you would tell his story out even writing it down.

After those two year it was said you had died of a broken heart and that on your deathbed you were speaking of the fond memories you had with your lover.

-“Lemiel wait up” “Come on Y/n well miss the butterfly”

-“Y/n teach me how to bake sugar cookies” “Okay now go give me the book”. “I told you no tasting the dough” “I’m sorry Y/n” “Tetia don’t eat it either”.

-”You know how I knew I was going to get poisoned” “Don’t worry Y/n i’ll find out who did this to you” “Don’t at least not now” “Of course”.

-��You know Lemiel I'm going to put a ring on that finger before you know it” “What I'm sorry I couldn't hear you” “Oh nothing”. Lemiel smiled he can’t wait to marry you.

-”How many kids would you want?” “As many as you want my prince” “Okay a hundred” “Nevermind just two or three” “I’m just kidding now names”.

Your story was never as famous as his was but  you were there,you were known as the storyteller, the one who brought up his story. But it soon turned into nothing but fog as the years went on as the thought of you passed by everyone's minds. But after your death many hoped in your next life you would be able to be happy.

****

Can I request a Sally face x reader fic? Possibly a confession and first kiss an da party or something like that, thank you!

Hey anon, sorry if this is bad, I'm assuming you meant sal, and if not just lmk and I'll re-write this for another character if you want.

Warnings: Underage drinking, underaged smoking, parties, y/n used in place of your name, really awkward with the confession part? idk how to write those

word count: 1479

other: gender neutral terms used, sal's speech is in blue bc sometimes its unclear whos talking bc i didn't know what to put between the words spoken lol playlist listened to while writing: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5SMv6Go27KIcbfL07wkQ4m

This party wasn’t where you wanted to be right now. Hell, you’d rather be at school, getting pushed around by the kids in the hall right now. Anywhere was better than this loud, flashy,party filled with the smell of cigs, weed, alcohol and sex wafting off of every teen you passed.

Why you had come to this party in the first place had slipped your mind, as now you were more focused on not getting backed into a corner with a potted plant by a group of your peers. Maybe it was because your friend Larry wouldn’t shut up about how fun it was going to be, maybe it was because you would have felt bad saying no, or maybe it was because you certainly weren’t going to pass up on an opportunity to potentially hang out with Sal Fisher, your long time crush and close friend.

Holding your now empty red cup, you navigated your way through the crowd of drunken and dancing teens, most who were nice and giggly as you passed, slurring apologies at you if they bumped you.

While you weren’t all sober yourself, you had enough remaining cognitive ability to form full thoughts, and the only one on your mind was finding one of two people; Sal or Larry. You had no doubt Larry was off smoking with gods know who, so that left one option, and if your brain wasn’t mistaking you, you had seen the electric-bluenette near the door to the backyard in the kitchen not too long ago. So that’s where you set your sights.

When you arrived at the kitchen, you were happy to know that you were indeed correct on where you had last seen Sal, just outside on the patio, sitting hunched over a cup, the bottom straps of his prosthetic undone and dangling. Murmuring a few ‘excuse me’s at the teens you passed on the way, you made your way out to the back, opening and exiting the door and catching the bluenette’s attention. Seating yourself next to him, you said nothing, not sure of what to say.

“Didn’t think you’d actually show. Lar said you were coming, but I thought he was bluffing again,” Sal spoke, sipping on his drink.

You laughed at this, “yea, no, he actually convinced me to come. Not sure how, but he did. Honestly, I didn’t think I’d see you here either. You always talk about how much you hate parties, especially ones that have inebriating drinks,” you set your cup down next to you, and a small breeze knocked it over as soon as your hand left it.

“I don’t, hate em. Managed to get someone to get me something non-alcoholic, though. What have you had to drink?” He motioned to your, now rolling, red cup to emphasize.

“Oh, nothing too strong. They had a punch bowl in there so I took some of that,” thinking back to it as you spoke, it was odd the hosts of this party put a punch bowl out at a party with no need for it. However, you and Sal both seemingly shrugged it off and continued talking.

Conversation between the two of you had always come so naturally, switching between topics and tones, talking about people, your home state, his home state, and the likes.

“Man, I cannot believe he did that! It was like, super awkward between us for a week,“ you laughed, finishing a story about how Larry had tried to ask you out when high. Luckily the guy wasn’t too upset and took no for an answer.

“Hey, y/n, about asking people out...have you ever done it?” Sal questioned, messing with his sweater sleeves now that his drink was gone and his cup had also flown off.

“Oh, uh, not like, here at Nockfell, but in the past I asked a guy in my grade to go to a valentine’s day dance with me. Why?” you responded, tilting your head at him.

“I want to ask this person out, but I’m not sure how.”

“Oh. Well, what do they like? How long have you known them? And how close are you two? You can’t just ask out a random person you barely know, it won’t go well.”

“Well, they like a lot so it’s...kinda hard to put into words. I’ve known them for years now, and I’d like to say we’re pretty close.”

Thinking, you went quiet. As much as it hurt you to know your crush liked someone else, you were going to help him as best you could.

“Well, I’d give them a note, personally. I’d probably piss myself if I tried to tell them upfront. But it depends on how you wanna do it.”

Sal quietly thinks for a few seconds before standing up and fixing his mask, “Thanks for your help dude. We should get going, I’ll go find Larry and we can get out of here.”

You nod, standing and following Sal back into the house, heading for the front door while Sal went off to find Larry. With your mutual friend acquired, you all left for home, depositing Larry at his place and heading to your own beds, tired now that the social buzz had worn off.

Over the next week, you and Sal talked less and less, notes popped up in your locker, and small things like patches, stickers, pins and snacks appeared with them. You were confused to say the least. You loved everything this admirer gave you, and the notes were adorable, even if they were typed and printed rather than hand written, but you wondered why Sal had stopped talking to you as often as he did.

As the weeks progressed, you had started to like the secret admirer that was leaving you small gifts and notes reminding you how much they liked you. But the most recent note, which you had gotten on a sunny and warm Wednesday, really caught your attention. This time, it was handwritten in blue pen ink, the handwriting surprisingly neat, completely eliminating who you thought it was.

The note read: “y/n, meet me in the courtyard during lunch/break time. -<3”, and not wanting to disappoint, you waited with an uneasy shake until lunch came around where you went straight to the courtyard. Seeing no one, you sat on the ground by a tree to wait until your secret admirer got there.

10 minutes later, the heavy doors opened and closed with a thud, catching your attention and causing you to look up where you saw Sal, mask in hands, and looking down.

“Sal? Are you the one that wanted to meet me here?” You were..puzzled to say the least. Sal had hardly talked to you in weeks, and you thought he liked someone else like Ash, but it seems you were mistaken.

“Uh, yea, I am. I know you’re..probably upset at me for not talking to you in the past few weeks, but I didn’t want to say something stupid too soon. I hope you’re not too mad..”

“Sal, I’m not mad. I thought you were busy trying to get your mystery person to like you..and I guess I was right, but I didn’t think it’d be me..”

“Who else would it have been? You and I are as close as Larry and I are, we like the same things and I’ve known you since you got here. Hell, I’ve been pining over you for years now, but last year when Lar told me he was gonna try and shoot his shot, I tried to get myself to like Ash so I wouldn’t feel like shit if you said yes.”

“Oh, Sal. I thought it was Ash, you talk so much about her sometimes, I thought you actually liked her.”

“Oh, no, I don’t. She helped me with this, actually. Which reminds me, if its not obvious already, I really fucking like you. Like, you make me feel happy and just thinking about you makes me feel like I’m on cloud nine.”

Smiling at his words you stood to go over to him, putting your hands on his shoulders so he would look up at you, “I like you too, Sal. Like, a lot. I have for a while, and when you asked how to ask someone out,I..it hurt a little bit.”

Saying nothing at your words, Sal moved forward and wrapped you in a hug, his mask landing in the grass behind you two. Before you could return the hug, Sal backed up and his hands grabbed your face pulling you in for a kiss. Giving you time to react this time, you kissed back, your hands placing themselves over his.

Now, sitting at a college party with your boyfriend, you think to yourself, ‘Maybe parties aren’t so bad after all.’

heyy may I request a family fluff modren au oneshots with jonathan joestar? ty!

A/N: Since you said family... I thought I’d add the rest of Jonathan’s (and Dio’s bleh) kids with George II AND Danny! :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Thank You For This.” (Jonathan Joestar x Reader)

Warnings: none!

Description: On the Saturday after the last day of school for your eldest boys, you invite the entire family to a picnic at the local park. Though you face some challenges before getting to that first…

NOTE: P/P/T stands for “preferred parent title.” This one-shot is gender-neutral, I want all to be comfortable! 💙

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Boyyys! Shoes. We’re leaving soon. We need to get a good spot to eat at the park so get ‘em on.” you call out from the kitchen.

It’s a Saturday afternoon, the sun is extra bright out in your beloved city of New York and summer is the season many students have waited for. Your sons just as excited.

George has just finished up his 8th year in middle school, Giorno’s 3rd in elementary and Donatello’s 2nd in elementary. Rikiel and Ungalo are yet to start. They’ll be going once the breezy fall/autumn season is back.

It takes a lot to take care of 5 boys in one household. Though luckily your job becomes a bit easier when your archaeologist husband, Jonathan Joestar, gets a few days off. And thus, you plan out family hang outs here and there. This time, spending a day at the park to celebrate your boys’ achievements.

You use a rolling pin to knead at the cookie dough on the counter. You had already baked up some double chocolate chip cookies but decided to make some sugar cookies as well as George, Girono and Donatello prefer them. The two youngest of the 5 having a sweeter tooth. And your husband of course not caring, the large man will eat everything his sons leave over.

You sigh as you don’t hear any noise from the top floor. You stop your kneading and go to wash your hands under the faucet. You dry them off on your apron and walk up the steps. Your ears are filled with loud noise and your eyes widen. You just walked into a chaotic scene.

There in the room in full view from the stairs lays a sleeping Donatello under a large pile of blankets. Giorno is in the bathroom brushing his teeth while Jonathan attempts to fix his messy hair. George’s door is closed and loud with the sound of video games inside. And the sight that has confused you the most- a naked Ungalo getting chased around by a Rikiel in pull ups with a towel. Danny barks behind the toddlers, Ungalo giggles as Danny reaches his side.

“Hey, what-“

You’re cut off when George exits his room and brushes past you with his face glued to his phone. You question your oldest as he approaches the stairs, texting god knows who.

“George, what the hell happened-“

“Don’t ask me. Dad only told me to get ready and I did that.” George replies in a blunt tone. He puts his phone in his pocket and pats the side of his leg, he mouthes a “come on” to Danny. The dog runs over and heaves happily as George pats his head. They both rush down to the first floor.

You place your hands on your hips and huff in disbelief. The youngest run past you, your face scrunching up as you grumble lowly. You manage to catch Ungalo by grabbing him by the shoulders and picking him up by the waist. You grab the towel from a dazed Rikiel and wrap it around your naked son. Ungalo wraps his little legs and arms around you as you direct Rikiel to go to his room and wait for you. The 3 year old pouts as he pads his way down. You sigh shaking your head as you approach Donatello’s room and knock on his opened door multiple times.

“Come on! Wake up, wake up. I told you to get enough sleep last night. And get those blankets off of you, you’ll overheat.” you exclaim aggressively. Your middle child groans, his arm reaches out as if there’s an alarm clock next to him. Ungalo giggles as he pulls at your apron and points over at a now ready Giorno walking down to join his older brother. ‘At least 2 of the 5 are ready’ you think ‘and the dog…” you add on humorously.

Half of your husband’s stature appears from outside the bathroom. He dries his hands with a small towel and walks out. He closes the door and looks at you. You lift an eyebrow.

“Jonathan…” you mutter frustratedly. A clueless Jonathan looks up.

“Yes, my love?”

You point at the naked boy in your arms, the boy sleeping under piles of blankets and the half-naked boy sitting on the bed carelessly swinging his feet. You place a hand on your hip.

“What is the meaning behind all this? Our youngest are practically naked-“ you lock eyes with Ungalo, you sigh “well…one is naked. And one is still asleep. Only 2 are ready! What’s going on? I thought you were good at controlling them while I’m busy…”

Jonathan laughs soundlessly, taking Ungalo from your arms and placing a kiss on your forehead. You groan.

“It’s no time to be lovey dovey here… I’m yet to prepare the sandwiches for everyone.”

“And I’m not trying to be, it’s just who I am. I want you to be calm. Let me explain.” he says with a sweet voice. You frown as you cross your arms and look down at your feet.

He walks over to Ungalo’s and Rikiel’s shared bedroom. He places Ungalo on the bed as he goes into their closet and picks out outfits for them. You stand at the doorway and watch him get your sons dressed.

“I was going to dress these boys first but Giorno told me he wanted to try a new hairstyle as he’s grown it out and plans to dye it blonde. So I helped him out with that. Donatello had already gotten up-“ he laughs a little, your mind wondering how he’s able to keep so positive as you’re worried that you won’t get the best spot at the park. “But he somehow fell asleep again after he played with Ungalo and Rikiel. He actually helped me shower them too so he must’ve fallen asleep before he dressed them fully.”

Ungalo happily runs out with his shoes in hand, telling his father that he can tie them himself. Jonathan nods in response and finishes tying Rikiel’s shoes. Rikiel giggles following after Ungalo. He smiles lovingly, you blink, a blank expression on your face. Your gaze going from Donatello finally standing up to get ready and back to him innocently smiling. You exhale through your nose.

“Okay, I believe you. Your story sounds- fine. But I’m still confused as to why you didn’t do anything about the boys and Danny chasing each other.” you ask with genuine uncertainty. Jonathan shakes his head.

“Well, that one’s on me. Which I apologize for. Even though I asked Donatello to dress them, I don’t blame him. All I did was tell them to go to their room while I helped Giorno. In truth, I feel Girono could’ve done everything himself but I wanted to bond with each of our sons before I go to work again. George and I even spoke before you were awake. I come home late often and don’t get to see all unless one or more of them are awake.” he places a hand over his heart “I swear an event like this will never happen again. Please do not stress, you know I don’t like seeing you that way.”

You hum, uncrossing your arms as you think. Well he only is one person, what do you expect? Your boys just got done with school too, they must be tired and desiring to sleep in most days.

Jonathan nears you and wraps his arms around your waist, he pecks the side of your mouth. You hum again, embarrassed at how angry you got. He knows you well, so he goes on to say,

“Don’t be embarrassed. You deal with them more than me. So it’s understandable that you got upset. Go downstairs and finish up. I’ll deal with Donatello, okay?” he caresses your cheek, his touch always soothes you. You hesitantly remove his hand and nod. You go down and become content when all your boys offer to help.

~Time Skip~

An hour later, you all arrive at the park. Lucky for you, a grassy area near a playground is open.

Jonathan lays out a large blanket for you all to sit on. You set down the two baskets of food and goodies and let your family get comfortable in their own seats.

“I call the PBJ!” Giorno calls out. Ungalo pouts and crosses his arm, he nudges at your sleeve.

“But I want that…” he says sadly. You laugh, searching through one of the baskets.

“Oh honey, don’t worry. I’m sure we have one more…”

You give him one and smile when he hugs your side. All the others ask of you and Jonathan for things and activities as the day goes on.

“Dad, can I go for a quick walk around the park?” George asks.

“P/P/T, may I have a cookie?” Rikiel asks shyly.

“Can I go play fetch with Danny? I’ll stay near, I promise.” Donatello asks.

“I want to look at the garden- can we go after they’re done playing?” Giorno asks as he points at Ungalo and Rikiel playing tag with the other kids at the playground.

You and Jonathan never said no to their questions. You love and trust them with all your being- them going against you is low in chances.

You collect your belongings and go to the garden Giorno asked to go to. You hold a basket in front of you as you watch Giorno educate his brothers about the different plants and insects. Your heart melts as George picks up Rikiel and Donatello pick ups Ungalo to help them inspect the taller plants.

Jonathan removes the basket from your hands and places them in front of you both. You look at him confused. He smiles as he takes your hand and kisses the back of it.

“Thank you for this.” he whispers. You rolls your eyes playfully as you mindlessly ask,

“For what?”

“For giving me a family… I wouldn’t ask for anything in this world aside from pure happiness for you and our boys. You all keep me going and I appreciate you the most for that.”

You’re a blushing mess as he leans in and kisses you. You kiss back, true love can be seen by outsiders. You locks arms with him and place your head on his shoulder.

You and your husband resume to watching your sons bond and blossom.

LIGHTWOOD BANES WEEK - ALEC & RAFE

“All good?” Alec knocked on the door.

He sounded calm - but only because he tried his best not to sound as excited as felt. He had been waiting for this day for quite a long time and he couldn’t believe it was all happening.

There was no response from the other side so Alec knocked again. No response. Maybe Rafe had overslept. Alec did notice that the light in the room hadn't gone out till early morning.

“Alright, I am coming in,” Alec said and gently pushed the door open.

He saw his son sitting on the bed, still in his purple pyjamas, hugging his knees to his chest. He kept his eyes to the floor and avoided Alec’s worried gaze. Alec didn't know what was wrong but he wished Magnus was here - he would know how to deal with this.

His way of dealing with it would of course to make an ill timed joke. Maybe Alec should try that.

“I know your bapa taught you that being fashionably late is cool,” Alec said with a grin. “But you can't be late to your own rune ceremony, buddy.”

Rafe looked up with an incredulous look on his face, he seemed a little exasperated. Alright maybe Alec wasn't the funny dad. So he tried to use his own tactics.

He knelt down in front his son and scanned Rafe’s face. “I know it is a little scary to get your first rune, but it doesn't hurt as much as you think, I promise. You are a shadowhunter. You will get used to it.”

Rafe looked away.

“What if I didn't want to be a shadowhunter?”

Something in Alec’s heart stopped or broke or burst into a million pieces. He wasn't sure and it didn't matter. He wasn't concerned by the heart inside his body. He was concerned about the little heart in front of him.

“Rafael,” Alec said softly. “What's wrong?”

The boy took a deep breath and looked up at him. “I am not just any shadowhunter, am I?”

Alec cocked his head in confusion.

“I am not just any shadowhunter,” Rafael repeated. “I am a Lightwood.”

Alec couldn’t help but smile a little at that and put his hand on Rafael’s shoulder. “Yes. Yes, you are. You’re a Lightwood.”

Rafael pushed it away. “But I am not, aren't I?”

“What do you mean?” Alec asked, genuinely confused.

“I am both a Lightwood and I am not,” Rafael explained frustratedly.

“Rafe, wha-”

“I am the son of the Consul, a hero of the Dark War and the founder of the Shadowhunter Downworlder Alliance,” Rafael said as if he was reciting a practiced speech.

Alec would have blushed in any other situation but right now he was only worried. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” Rafe shook his head. “You did everything right and I...I am just worried that I won't.”

“Rafael,” Alec sighed. “You are not me. You don't have to do what I did or do.”

“But it isn't just about you,” Rafael bit his lip. “It’s all of you. Every single one. Aunt Izzy is one of the best fighters in the world. Abuelo was the freaking inquisitor and Uncle Jace...Well, he is Uncle Jace.”

Alec didn't know what to do. In this head, he heard Magnus’s voice when he spoke to Max when their blueberry got too stressed during their magic lessons.

“Smell the flowers and blow the candles,” Magnus would tell their son.

Alec took a deep breath in and let it out slowly.

“Do you want me to tell you that you are going to be great just like all of us?” Alec asked, even though he knew the answer.

“No, I don't want you do that,” Rafael said stubbornly. “Because I know I won't be.”

“Why do you think so?”

“Because I am not a Lightwood, dad,” Rafael almost shouted. “Not really. I am just..I am just some boy you found in the streets. So whatever genes that make you the rest of you amazing and awesome and cool and perfect - it’s not gonna work for me.”

Alec stared at his son then. Rafael's body was hunched as if he was protecting himself from everything the world was going through at him after today.

It wasn't easy being a shadowhunter - and it definitely wasn't easy being a Lightwood.

Rafael looked at him in the eye then, his lips wobbling a little. “I am scared I won't be good enough.”

He looked at those tiny little shoulders and realized the amount of pressure that sat on them. Alec had once been worried about not being able to fill the shoes of his ancestors - of not being able to bring his parents glory. He had been terrified of not being good enough to bear his family name. The Lightwood name.

Now his son was feeling the very same. Alec wondered whether all shadowhunters felt this way at one point or another.  

“Listen,” Alec said gently. “Izzy is the best at what she does because she trains every single day. Not because she is a Lightwood. Yes, my dad was the inquisitor but he wasn't perfect. Lightwoods make mistakes too. And regardless of whether he is a Lightwood or a Herondale or Wayland, Uncle Jace is Uncle Jace not because he was born to be that person but because he choose to be. And I...I might be the Consul but I was a scared little boy for a long time too.”

Rafael still looked unconvinced and frustrated and stubborn.

“I am not going to say your last name doesn't matter. It does and it always will. We are treated differently than others because of our last name. We have been given chances and opportunities because of our last name.”

“Your tutor,” Raphael said weakly. “He was punished worse...”

Magnus and Alec had decided long ago that it was imperative for their children to know their history - all of it and from all sides.

“He got the worst of it and my parents didn't - because they are Lightwoods,” Alec admitted.

Alec looked at his son and spoke in a tone that Magnus often called his ‘Consul voice’.

“It is an honour to be a Lightwood. Our name has power and privilege,” Alec told his son. “But it is also a responsibility.”

Rafael nodded meekly. “I am responsible to uphold our family name?” his son asked in a quiet tone.

“No,” Alec said. “You are responsible to use this power and privilege to help those who don't have it.”

Rafael looked up then.

“You are not wrong to be afraid, Rafe. You are a smart kid and you are right. People will see you differently and hold you accountable to higher standards. I know it's not fair. Sometimes it can be difficult. People will always expect you to be a certain way because of your last name or your gender or your race or so many other things...But you need to be true to yourself. That’s what it means to be a Lightwood.”

Rafael sat up straight, listening intently now.

“Your mandate as a shadowhunter is to defend what is good and protect what is innocent,” Alec said firmly. “But your mandate as a Lightwood is to fight for yourself.”

“Like you did?” Rafe asked, his lips curving, just a little.

“And like so many others before,” Alec smiled. “Some day soon, your bapa will tell you about other Lightwoods who fought for themselves - Christopher and Anna and Thomas and so many others.”

Rafael actually smiled then - he always liked listening to his bapa’s stories.

“If you don't want to be a shadowhunter, then we will not force you,” Alec said seriously now. “All we want is for you to be happy. To be yourself.”

“I do want to be a shadowhunter,” Rafael confessed in a whisper. “I am just...scared. I am scared that I won't be good enough. I am scared that people will think I am not good enough.”

“As was I, Rafe,” Alec said softly, rubbing his son’s cheek. “I sometimes still feel like I am not good enough. When you feel that way, just give your best shot and remember that it is more than enough. It doesn't matter what other people think or say. That’s one more Lightwood trait for you. We don't let other people tell us who we are. We decide it for ourselves.”

“But I do care about what you think," Rafael said in a small voice. "Do you think I'm gonna be a good shadowhunter?”

“100%," Alec said without hesitation.

“How do you know?” Rafe asked skeptically.

“Because you are not even a shadowhunter yet and you are already trying to figure out how to be a good one,” Alec laughed. “A good fighter is always prepared. You are going to be just fine.”

“Because my last name is Lightwood?” Rafael teased.

“Because your last name is Lightwood-Bane,” Alec corrected with a grin. “Now I know there aren't many Banes and I myself know only one. But he is the best man I know.”

“He is the best I man I know too,” Rafe grinned. “No offense.”

“None taken,” Alec grinned back.

“Okay then,” Rafael hopped off the bed and walked towards his closet - which was larger than Alec’s own. “Let’s get dressed for my big day.”

“I am afraid my amazing, awesome, cool and perfect Lightwood genes are not going to be very helpful here,” Alec ruffled his son’s hair. 

Rafael giggled as he excitedly picked a red shirt from his closet. Alec looked at his son and walked back and knelt down again.

“I just want you to remember one thing,” Alec stared into his son’s eyes. “You were never just some boy found in the streets. I knew you were mine the moment I saw you. I knew you were my baby even then.”

“I know, dad,” Rafael replied shyly.  

“No matter what anyone says, you are a Lightwood and you will always be my son.”

Rafael put his arms around his neck and hugged Alec tightly. “I know. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Alec kissed the top of his head and walked back to the door. “Now hurry up and get dressed. Your Consul commands it.”

“Boludo,” he heard his son chuckle and Alec couldn't help but chuckle himself.

Forgive And Forget

(Loona) Jung Jinsoul x Gender Neutral!Reader

Requested: yes!

Berry: hey, i really like your writing style and i saw that you're taking requests again—can i please request a jinsoul x reader imagine wherein they are in an argument and she said some really hurtful words to her s/o? Please let it be angst to fluff and i don't really mind if it's either gender neutral or not, hope u have/had a great day !! :)

A/n: sorry this took awhile :< it’s been awhile since I’ve written something so hopefully my writting hasn’t rusted lmao. Thank you for requesting! I hope you like it <3

Your back slid against the wall, head spinning and lips parted. You cover your mouth with a hand, not believing the words that came out of Jinsoul’s mouth.

“Jinsoul what is up with you?” You asked, eye brows raised in curiousity. “You don’t even have any time for me anymore, and everytime you do, you don’t even hang out with me.”

Something about the words spilling out of your tongue made you feel relived. You couldn’t help but to think that Jinsoul was avoiding you on purpose, the thought only made your heart sink.

Jinsoul turned around, visibly tired. Her eyeslids looked like they were about to shut at any moment laying on the bed, but she fought the urge, wanting to answer you first before anything.

“Y/n what are you talking about?” She mumbled, loud enough for you to hear.

You let out a breathy sigh, sitting on the corner of the bed, watching Jinsoul give you the same curious look you gave her.

“I mean, I don’t know” you paused, “it suddenly feels like you’re avoiding me on purpose or something”

“It’s not that y/n, I’ve just been busy” Jinsoul softy replied, she grabbed you by the hem of your shirt, pulling into a cuddle.

You frown, the same excuses were given everytime. You knew she was free, her company hasn’t gave them any schedules yet.

“Don’t lie Jinsoul”

Never in your life had you imagine that you were getting into a heated argument with your girlfriend, whom you’ve been with for two years now.

You and Jinsoul rarely fought, even if you did the two of you would laugh at how immature the argument was.

But this wasn’t an argument the two of you could laugh about. The argument continuessly got more heated, after accusing Jinsoul of being a liar she sat up within a second.

“Are you accusing me of being a lair? Why would I lie to you?” She look at you with disbelief, “y/n what has gotten into you?”

“Me?” You gasped, “you should be the one telling me. You say all these excuses yet none are even true. You don’t even have time for me, saying your busy when in reality YOUR SHEDULE IS LITTERALY TRANSPARENT??” You began rising your voice, making Jinsoul’s jaw drop, never has she seen you rise your voice, never ever.

“So tell me Jinsoul, what have you really been doing?” You crossed your arms, leaving Jinsoul’s grip as you stood up, tapping your foot onto the cold ground.

You couldn’t believe the way you were currently acting, it left yourself surprised. Despite all that you kept the act up, letting Jinsoul know you weren’t kidding about anything.

Jinsoul let out a cry, “how many times do I have to tell you y/n! I’ve been busy. Just because my schedule is cleared doesn’t mean I don’t have anything in particular to do”

You slowly nod, realizing she did have a good point. Something in your heart still clenched though. Your mind wandered off into wanting to know what she’s been doing in particular, as she likes to say.

“Okay then what have you been doing outside of the company hm?” You asked.

“I’ve been hanging out at the dorms”

“Bullshit!”

Jinsoul gasped, she felt herself slowly grow angry. At this point she kept her mouth shut, not wanting to explode. How could you accuse her for lying? She knew how she hasn’t been spending time with you, and she’s fine with you being upset about it, you had the right to be.

But saying her words are full of bullshit ticked her off. It was the truth, she had been spending time with the members at the dorm, due to Haseul finally returning.

It made her ecstatic knowing her member had finally returned. Ready to be in the next comeback and surprising orbits with her appearance.

“Y/n-”

“Enough Jinsoul! Enough!” You cried, “how are you not upset about this? Am I the only one who’s feeling like this?”

“Y/n-”

“no I don’t wanna hear it, I’m tired Jinsoul. I’m tired of waiting that we’d spend at least some time together, the last time we hung out was a month ago Soulie! A month-”

“Y/n” Jinsoul finally interrupted, pressing her teeth together as she stared at you, her eyes getting darker.

“Are you hearing yourself? You’re such an idiot for saying all this.”

“What I said was nothing but the truth, and if you don’t believe it than that is on you”

You opened your mouth to speak but Jinsoul quickly shushed you. “I’m sorry I haven’t been hanging out with you. The members wanted me to spend some time with them before our comeback soon”

“But if your gonna continue being like this then we mind as well break up, because I absolutely don’t want someone who acts like a total idiot! I mean accusing me of a liar? Really?” She scoffed, “you know I wouldn’t EVER lie to you”

“And most of all I don’t wanna be with someone who’s so attracted, enough of being like this!”

“You always act possessive, I have the right to hang out with others don’t I?”

This all brought you back to present time. Your back sliding against the wall, head spinning and lips parted. After the argument Jinsoul had left to get a breather.

You rested your head against the wall, sighing you couldn’t yourself.

Never had you been like this, a total idiot like Jinsoul said. You didn’t know what had gotten into you at all.

All you know is, is that you owe Jinsoul an apology.

You could’ve handled this in a mature easy way, but you crossed the line. Accusing her of a liar and ignoring almost all of her side of the story.

“God I need to fix this” you thought, getting up in hopes of finding Jinsoul somewhere nearby. It did shatter your heart when she told you how attached you were, and her wanting to break up with you. But you also didn’t blame her for it.

You lifted that heavy heart of yours anyway, finding Jinsoul sitting on the bench at a park.

The sun had just begun to set, so you sat next to the silent girl, who seemed to be staring off into space with glossy eyes.

“Jinsoul?” You lowly spoke, fighting the tears from falling down your already tear stained cheeks. “I’m so so sorry”

Jinsoul turned her head to you, she shook her head as a response. “You shouldn’t be sorry, your feelings are valid y/n, I understand”

“I should be the one to say sorry”

“Jinsoul no” you quickly started, taking her hands into yours. “I’m serious about this, I’m sorry for what I did”

“For calling you a liar, saying your words were bullshit. I handled this so badly, I let my emotions get to me”

“It’s okay if you don’t have time for me, that’s totally fine” you slowly smile, “you are your own person, you have other things to do and other places to be.”

“Pretend I never said those things, I can’t believe I did all this” you sighed, face palming.

Jinsoul could only look at you, slowly beaming out a smile as she pulled you by the waist, engulfing you into a hug.

“Don’t worry y/n. I know you didn’t mean it” she rubbed the back of her neck with one hand, “I’m sorry I said I was gonna break up with you and said you were too possessive for my liking.”

“I didn’t mean that at all, it’s just you really ticked me off” Jinsoul laughed, making you crack alittle laugh of your own.

“You aren’t THAT possessive, I mean I am too so that makes us even” she added.

“So are we okay now?”

“Yes y/n I forgive you, we’re okay now” Jinsoul rubbed your shoulder. “You know I’d never lie, especially to you.”

You leaned onto her shoulder, feeling her kiss the top of your head. The red, orange, and yellow hues began to display themselves beautifully, making the two of you appreciate the scenery in front of you.

“Hey Jinsoul?”

“Yes baby?”

“I love you”

Jinsoul looked at you with a smile. She felt her heart beat become faster as she processed those words. She caressed your hand with her thumb, bringing you comfort as she replied with the words you hoped she’d say.

“I love you too”

Spoilers from both Trollhunters the book and Trollhunters the series!

While reading the book I was really impressed with how many differences there were between the character so I have worked on giving my take on six characters from both media, book vs series, and how they differ from each other :3 

I should mention that while there was illustrations in the book I tried for the challenge not to copy those but follow along the describtions in the book - when possible - to give my own interpretation of the characters ^v^ 

Steve

First up we have Steve. Starting out as the stereotypical bully in both version their paths seperates quickly resulting in two different ending for the musuclar blond Jorgensen-Warner is the book version of Steve. Here's how he is described from our first encounter with him: "He was handsome but in the oddest way- He eyes were too small and his nose piggish: he had a ridiculous amount of hair and a couple of teeth that looked like fangs. Yet somehow in combination these features were sort of mesmerising. His unnatural muscular bulk and odd way of speaking -crisply, politely, as if he were a foreign student who had learned English in class - completed the strange package." page 21-22 For his outfit I went with the description of him on page 224 "[my clothes] ... didn't cast me in the best light when compared to Steve Jorgensen-Warner, who looked rather rakish in blue jeans and a shirt - definitely not a blouse - opened to the third button. He dribbled the ball casually with his left hand." The bold passages is added by me   This Steve is later revealed to be a changeling aka a troll   Before we go on: can any of you explain to me what a "ridiculous amount of hair" even means :'D? I had a lot of trouble with this prompt because isn't this so darn subjective :'D? and the official art look way less ridiculous than I'd figure it'll be :'D x'D Palchuk is the series version of Steve. His facial appearance being way less specific (I'd say he has normal sized eyes, a big roman nose and some more or less normal teeth) and his way of speaking is definitely not polite. Like book Steve, this Steve starts out with pushing smaller guys into lockerrooms yet after that he becomes way less of a terrifying bully and much more of a silly goose who brings a lot of the comic relief in my opinion Douxie says it best in Wizards when he calls Steve the "village idiot" x'D I do not recall seeing Steve being that sporty in the show, he is much more interested in becoming homecoming king  no basketballs around x'D While book Steve is revealed to be the enemy (a troll) series Steve joins the "good guys" creating the creepslayerz with the character Eli Pepperjack

Blinky

Blinky is just called Blinky in the book  Here's a bit of description of him "The third [troll] had scarlet eyes, eight of them on long stems. (...) The thing from my house glided toward me with a surprising grace for something with an indetermined number of legs, all of which were hidden behind a patched kilt scaled with layers of medals, prizes and trophies and award ribbons. An incalculable tangle of tentacles twined around one another as if dying to squeese something to death. As it passed the oven, the firelight revealed olive-green skin, reptilian texture, and lacquer of slime lubricating its undulating appendages Its moth a horizontal gash.. " The bold passages is added by me   So yeah this Blinky is quite something :'D I stopped caring to draw tentacles after a while but overall this was silly but fun to draw  since his teeth later is described as big as traffic cones I believe he must be very tall :'D Also he's close to blind   Has a bit of a dirty mouth but in a very "read" way if it makes sense :'D cannot seem to stop calling Jim dimwitted and tiny and Tobias big :'D Blinky's full name in the series is Blinkus Galadrigal  he has six eyes instead of eight and they are all working just fine, thank you very much x'D His tons of tentacles and legs has been replaced by four arms and two legs and while he is still olive-green he is now made of tone like texture just like the other trolls  the kilt turned into shorts and he is quite a bit smaller now not even as tall as Jim  He still has this very academic way of speaking yet he is way nicer to Jim calling him "Master Jim" instead of "the short one" x'D

ARRRGH!!!

Book ARRGHHH!!!s full name is Johannah Mmmm ARRRGH!!! and she is a pretty big deal warrior among the trolls in the book - she's so badass in fact Blinky has decided to call her by her last name to honor her for her deeds for trollkind   Here's a qoute from the book describing her appearance   "The goliath emerged from the tunnel as comfortably as a dog from a doghouse, coarse black fur pouring into the chamber before I could make out any actual arms or legs (...) Even beneath the fur I could see loops of muscles flexing. (...) ARRRGH!!! was built like a gorilla but three times larger: Two arms, two legs, and, thankfully, just two eyes. Horns, curled like those of a ram (...) The thing's orange eyes cast about with animal perceptiveness, and it used its snout and sniffed. Its jaws fell open to reveal a purple, slavering mouth armed with haphazard daggers of teeth." Page 75-76 The bold passages is added by me   (Also worth mentioning: the qoute is from before the protagonist knows of ARRRGH!!!'s gender which is why he calls her an 'it') At other times in the story we learn that ARRRGH! has quite scarred arms and really wishes for better tooth hygeine; so much so that Tobias actually end up making her a brace out of chicken wire :'D Idk I find it quite adorable :'D Now unto the serie's ARRRGH!!! - first up he is male, his name is Arghaumont and he is famous for another reason than Johannah: he was a general of Gunmar but retreated from the war making him a traitor to his people yet a hero for the good trolls in the series. Series ARRRGH!!! is likewise built like a gorilla but made of stone and having a mane long and green like it is moss  his horns is way smaller and less curvy and his teeth hygeine is never brought up  also his face is way less dog like x'D 

Tobias 

Book Tobias' full name is Tobias M. Dershowitz yet he is going by 'Tubby' or 'Tub'. Here is a describtion of him from the book: "You could call Tobias Dershowitz chubby, if you were being cute, or husky if you were being diplomatic. The fact is he was fat, and that was only the beginning of his problems. His hair was a thick, orange, out-of-control hedge. His face spilled over with the kind of freckles that make kids like Tub look like overgrown toddlers. Worst of all were his braces, marvels of modern torment: whips of stainless steel crisscrossing each tooth seperately and lashed to a dozen silver fasteners. The braces clicked so much when he spoke, you expected sparks. At least he was tall..." page 27 The bold passages is added by me   The outfit I went with is described on page 259 like this: "He stood in the driveway decked out in his best approximation of a ninja: black tennis shoes, black sweatpants, a black hoodie, a belt made from a red curtain sash, and an oversize fanny pack holding his gear (...) It was unfortunate that the fanny pack was lime green..." To describe Tub is a bit difficult because sadly he is not much in the story as I'd liked - mostly he is being quite serious and let us know he is not happy by being sidelined not speaking troll nor being invited on hunts which I completely understand tbh :'D What I do find interesting is how Tub and series Jim has seem to have switched roles a little bit: In the series Jim is the one giving a speech about how he is insecure about his place in life and how he wants more - in the book this is Tub in more than one occassion: "We have to accept who we are. And before you ask, I'll tell you. We're nobody. We have no life. We have nothing to look forward to. We're not special. I just want it to go away. All of it. The stupid being scared. Doesn't it seem we've been scared forever?" page 37 "Jim, you're wrong. We were meant to do this. This is exactly what we've been waiting for. They've chosen us. Of all people! Us! (...) Jesus, Jim, take a look at my life! You know what I'm worth! To anyone? Zero! Nothing! I'm a fat loser and will always be a fat loser. Until this. This is like a present. Full of, man, I don't know. Hope?..." page 196 (talking about trollhunting here btw) Oh yeah and book Tobias gets this badass scene where he uses his dentist's tool to kill trolls I loved that   Now series Tobias is way different :'D first up his name is Tobias Domzalski and his nicknames are Toby and Tobes. He is way shorter and has more neat hair (what is it with the series neating up the hair :'D? x'D). He also seems way cheerier and pretty happy with his place in life more or less  Unlike Tub, Toby is in it from the start being an important player in the story   He doesn't have the same drive to be something more than he is as Tub has instead Toby is going with the flow starting out quite afraid of everything troll and ended up being as brave as the rest of the team *tbh Jim's scared out of his wits too so they mimic each other x'D* Where Tub has dentist tools Toby gets a badass hammer so I'll say its an upgrade  

Claire

First off we have Claire Fontaine, a foreign student from no other than Scotland with a taste for military clothing and liqourice   Here's how she's described in the book   "She tucked her long dark hair behind her ear and left ir with an adorable smudge of white dust. I thought she was beautiful, though she wasn't in the classic sense. The popular girl would say she wasn't skinny enough. They would also point to the fact that she didn't wear makeup or do anything to tame that hair. And her clothes -well, what could be said about her clothes? Her boots were not sexy and knee-high: in fact, they were ankle-high and rubber-soled and looked picked from military surplus racks, an array of pea-green coats and multi-coloured slacks, all of which looked as if they'd been through actual World War II combat. And that beret she wore before and after school wasn't of the look-at-me-I'm Frensh variety: it was more in the style of I'm-going-to-invade-your-country-and-be-your-new-dictator. Only one thing didn't make sense: that bright pink, exceedingly girlish backpack that inexplicably hadn't one anti-establidh patch sewn onto it (...) Oh, I forgot to mention that Claire Fontain came from the UK. That's right- the girl had an accent. I think you are starting to get the picture." page 30-1 The bold passages is added by me It is hinted at that Claire is quite tall and a great deal taller than Jim (more when I get to him) and she is actually a whole year older than Jim since they both have birthday May 2 but Claire is 16 while Jim is 15  Since Trollhunters in this story is not a "protected title" (aka the chosen hero type) Claire ends up being one herself even though nobody even herself didn't know: AND. SHE. KICKS. BUTT! She's even better than the guy that had 40+ years experience so yeah safe to say she's badass :'D Even before that she has a hilarious scene calling out Steve in the wildest shitstorm of Scottish slang I lived for it x'D She's described quite a few times with lots of bracelets, sometimes made of wire so I gave her a bit of both   She's not really a part of the popular group but has her own thing going on   Now onto Claire Nuñez the series' version of this badass   Here Claire is hispanic and pretty much one of the most popular girls seen around  her style is way more ... I've called it punk rock in purple but Idk exactly what to call it x'D she's shorter than Jim and slimmer looking than her book counterpart   She enters the story not as a trollhunter but as a victim of having her brother stolen by changelings and as time progresses she becomes a fastlearning and quite competent sorcerer dealing in shadow magic   Unlike Fontaine, Nuñes is seen wearing make up, shorter hair with dye in it and hair clips instead of bracelets  

Jim 

First up we have book Jim. His full name is James Sturges Jr. and lives with his single parent, his dad, after his mother went away the day before his birthday in start May and never returned. Sturges Sr. had been traumatized loosing his brother to trolls although none of the characters didn't know this yet - only Senior had seen the creatures making him paranoid and in turn making Jim very embarrased about his father. At the same time Jim seems to honestly worry for his father and his behavior too makes Jim very cautious and fearful a character. Book Jim is pretty much a typical teenager for the most part  He is seen to be a tad clumsy and not exactly brave really. And the author's choice of basically not describing him anywhere made my job way harder trying to be book accurate :'D So I've mostly inspired him of the official illustrations in the book   Here's what I could find about our little trollhunter   First off: he's a short fellow  that is first mentioned on page 14; "Sunshine is important for growing boys." (...) "I am not growing" I took after my dad when it came to size and was still waiting for that growth spurt everyone kept raving about. "In fact I think I'm shrinking." This is brought up most of everything Jim through the movie from him not being able to reach a point of a chalkboard (page 32) to people's dissapointing sighs taking meassurements when he is chosen as Romeo (107) and him wearing super high heels for the same reason (224) but also Blinky directly calling him a "little fellow" (page 127) On page 27 we learn that he is getting a bruise on his chin after being slammed into his locker by Steve  Lockers he has been thrown into enough to have learned to open them on the inside :'D He is a skinny fella which Tobias so politely call "lack of muscletone" due to "glandular" at page 120 He is not very good at anything describing his room full of stuff from hobbies he tried and failed at (page 63) The longest describtion about his appearance is probably page 105: "I lowered my eyes and regarded the chewed, dirty fingernails holding my script, thes scuffed shoes on my feet, and realized that these were the symbols of my pityful life: worn-out, insignificant, ready to be thrown beneath Dad's industrial mower" It pretty much says it all when this is the longest quite I could find :'D For the outfit I mostly went by the small describtion on page 89-90: "I tucked the medallion beneath my shirt. After a full day of wearing it, maybe the rest of the suffocating fear would go away too. My plan was to dart into the kitchen, grab my sweatshirt and be out of the house. " I added jeans since he is said to wear jeans on page 283 - the medallion sneak out beneath the sweatshirt/shirt on page 97 which is why I added it on top here as well   Now since there's a bit more to both versions of Jim due to their role as the protagonist I've added in a little extra features here being the medallion in the book vs the amulet in the series and the weaponry given to the characters   For Sturges we have the medallion who's described like this: "It was a bronze medallion conntected to a rusty chain. It was engraved with a foreboding crest: a hideous, snarling face; indecipherable markings of a sevage language, and a magnificent long-sword across the bottom." page 9 The medallion is treated like it is a common artefact if a bit rare in the book - its purpose is to translate trollspeak for the wearer. Jim is giving two swords in the book; a rusty longsword he calls Clairesword (do I need to explain this one?) and a cutlass he calls Cat #6 after the one cat at Tobias' house that liked Jim  x'D For Sturges' personality my feeling about him is that he is a bit more ... passive than his series counterpart. He is not really standing up for himself that much and would rather blend into the background. This qoute from Claire sums him up pretty nicely I believe   "You're a good person, Mr. Sturges. A bit gloomy, but good" page 246 I do like that Jim in this version is a Taurus  (I am a taurus too x'D) born on May 2nd so that's a plus   It is probably also worth mentioning that in this world trollhunters aren't a chosen hero type like in the series: trollhunters or paladin was once a title held by many warriors yet now there's very few left. Sturges was a proud paladin family making Jim a chosen candidate for the honor of becoming a trollhunter but he is not the only one - or even the best - in the book. In fact out of the three trollhunters we learn about I'll say Jim is the weakest (and he is not even the least trained; ouch :'D) Jim doesn't get a nice armour like his series counterpart either but is seen in the illustrations wearing a blue hoodie (like the one in the little doodle)   The full name of Jim in the series is James Lake Jr. He is the child of a single parent and lives with his mother whom Jim "mothers a lot" (Tobias' words in the first episode) This Jim is pretty "tall for his age" (Jim's own words uttered quite a few times across all three series) yet with quite skinny legs (he is called out for this by multiple characters). He is much more competent in life than his book counterpart being an exceptional cook, good at Spanish, seemingly alright in PE and at school he seems to stand pretty good if only holding himself back. Unlike book Jim, series Jim seems much more active and longing to be something more than he is - he is seen to be quite brave and protective of his friends, very kind and selfless. Also even from the start he seems much more nimble than his book counterpart being able to climb the robe (a feat book Jim didn't do before later) and with his training as trollhunter he becomes even more badass   Trollhunter status in the series is way more important since the title is given to only one chosen warrior of Merlin chosen by the amulet of daylight (the medallion in the book). This also makes the amulet way more special and important in the series which probably explains its shine up from rusty bronze thing to silver and blue. While Lake Jr doesn't have named sword he does have a magical armour and sword made of daylight   We do not know the exact birthday of Lake Jr but the creators have replied to a fanquestion saying it would be around fall especially October so by that estimate Jim is probably a scorpio  pretty far from the before mentioned taurus in the book   While Jim Lake Jr isn't seen with long lasting bruises in the original series he does get two more permanent scars in Wizards  

"Hello, beautiful" - Din Djarin x Mandalorian!reader

Summary: You had pushed Din away when he had needed you most. You had pushed him away when he had felt like he failed. But the truth was that you had failed him. (Set during Season 2 Episode 7/8) Requested by Anon: "Hi, I love your writing!! Could you do a fluff/angst oneshot with a Mandalorian reader where they see each other’s faces for the first time? Thank you!" - Thank you so much, hun! I hope you like how this turned out. I had a lot of fun writing this lil piece!  Warning: heavy angst and hurt, violence but only briefly mentioned, reader is acting like a bit of a shebs’palon (but they apologize and make up), you and Din speak Mando'a (Translations at the end)  Category: angst, fluffy ending (it ended up a lot more angsty than I anticipated, sorry!!)  Words: about 3.600 Notes: No use of (Y/N) and gender-neutral (if I missed something regarding gender please tell me and I’ll fix it) Also, kinda established relationship? At least a platonic one. Note 2: You're a Mandalorian that grew up in the same covert as Din. It won't be mentioned in this fic but you are/were as clueless as Din about other Mandalorians and their way of living.  Note 3: I think I gave myself whiplash from the title and the summary of this fic. They don't seem to match but I couldn't figure out what else to name this story, asgscgeh just bear with me. 

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"Hello, beautiful" - Din Djarin x Mando!reader

Back then when you had boarded the Razor Crest you didn't know the man flying it. You have seen him before but you didn't know him. However, you knew what he had to do and you knew you would accompany him, help him, be there for him and the little one. You never expected for all this to happen. You never expected to care so deeply for him and the kid. Maybe that was the reason why you had reacted the way you did. Maybe that was why it had hurt so much. But all that didn't excuse your words or actions. All that didn't make it any easier when the time came to let go.

Your mind was clouded ever since what happened on Tython. Whenever you closed your eyes, all you saw was Grogu in the grips of one of these dark troopers. All you saw were his big eyes staring at you when he got taken away. All you could think about was how you weren't fast enough to save him. How you failed. And you knew Din felt the same. He blamed himself, too. You knew it the moment you had taken his hand in your own. You felt it in the stiffness of his fingers that tightly curled around yours, seeking comfort, something to ground himself to. You were his pillar of strength just as much as he was yours in that moment. When you tilted your head his visor was as blank as usual, just like your own, but you knew. You saw the sadness in him. And it broke your heart even more. You stayed close to him during the flight to Nevarro, when you went to pick up Mayfeld and on the flight to Morak, too. You two gave each other comfort and strength. But that changed when Din returned from the imperial base on Morak.  "Can I talk to you?" You slightly turned your helmet to the side to glance at Din who was standing beside you, his hands closed to fists and his arms stiffly pressed to his sides. He hadn't talked, let alone looked at you since he had returned from that imperial base. You had suspected that something must have happened, something that Din didn't want to talk about. But now that he was approached you in such an uncertain und uncomfortable manner you knew that something was very wrong. You straightened up and nodded, gesturing for him to lead the way to a more private corner of the Slave I. Din didn't waste a single second and began walking into one of the small sleeping chambers that had just enough room for the two of you to stand in. The moment door closed behind you without a sound you suddenly felt the tension in the air heavily on your shoulders. However, you tried to not let it show, put on a brave face and crossed your arms before your chest. You stood completely still but behind your dark visor your eyes flickered over Din's form, trying to figure something, anything out. Even though you had been a part of the covert for all your life and could read the body language of other Mandalorians fairly easy, you still struggled with Din sometimes. He had always been a mystery to you and you had only really got to know him after you helped him escape from Nevarro with Grogu. Before that you had rarely walked into each other and when you did you always just nodded at each other in greeting, never sharing a word until you had boarded the Razor Crest that night. And even though you and Din had grown rather close during your time on his ship you never really got a hang of it, of him. You had no idea what he wanted to talk to you about, you had no idea what was wrong. When he didn't turn around to meet your hidden eyes with his own visor you grew a little anxious, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. It wasn't unlike Din to hesitate before talking, he always seemed to consider his words before speaking up. But he had never ignored you before, he had never avoided your gaze before. And that hurt more than you thought it ever could. You only knew him for a considerably short time but the thought that he was pushing you away was clenching your heart so tightly it made your breath stammer over your lips. That he was pushing you away now of all times shot a hot, blinding pain through your chest.  "What do you want to talk about?" you asked, forcing your voice to sound strong even though you had never felt so weak and helpless before. Your eyes dropped to Din's fists that shook slightly. You let your arms fall down to your sides as you took one step towards his back. Cautiously you reached out and placed one hand on his shoulder. Your touch was light, you almost didn't even touch him but he still flinched. You gulped down the hurt and carried on. "Din?" "I took it off." You blinked rapidly and furrowed your brows in confusion. "What?" you asked, your voice sounding even heavier through the modulator than usually. "I took it off" Din repeated, his tone suddenly harsh as he shook your hand off his shoulder and turned around to face you. He had turned around so fast it caught you off guard. You would have stumbled if he hadn’t placed his own hands on your shoulders, keeping you steady. Din's posture was stiff and straight, no typical head tilt, no hands on his belt with his weight shifted more on one leg. The man in front of you was a stranger.  "What, Din? What did you take off?" you asked taken aback and with your voice laced with worry. Your eyes were flickering from his helmet to his hands that were placed on your shoulders as you tried to decipher the meaning of his words. It was this moment you realized that his harsh tone wasn’t directed at you but at himself. And it was this moment you realized he wasn't angry. He was terrified. And seeing Din truly scarred right now with his body trembling… that scarred you more than you could have ever imagined. You didn't even dare to breathe anymore. What could possibly scare Din so much that his whole body was shaking? You wanted to reach out for him, wrap your arms around him and draw him in, to comfort him like you had done so many times before. You were about to take one step forward when he spoke up again.  "My helmet" Din's voice broke. "They saw." He didn't need to explain who 'they' were. You knew. You suddenly knew what he had done in that imperial base. You knew why he was ignoring you. You knew and the only thing you could do was stare at him, your visor completely blank. You couldn't even tilt your head to give him some kind of reaction, you just froze with your breath stuck in your throat. You weren't even sure what you were thinking in that moment, your mind was blank. Only when Din put his hands on the sides of your helmet like he had done so many times before, did you find your way back into reality. Your head snapped upwards, your eyes wide behind the darkness of your visor. The touch, his touch that normally felt so soothing suddenly felt restricting. Or maybe it were your thoughts that kept drawing the circle in which they were racing tighter and tighter. Maybe they were cutting off your breath.  "Please, say something." You could almost see his eyes frantically searching for yours behind the visor. His eyes. Eyes you had never seen before and always had to imagine just how he had to imagine your eyes, too. Eyes they had seen. Some imperial men had seen them… before you. Your heart clenched at that thought and you took one step back, finally able to move again. Then you sucked in a sharp breath as Din's hands fell from your helmet. Lowering your head, you shook it in disbelief and confusion. You had no idea how to feel, how to react. All your life you had been taught… you knew there were other Mandalorians, other ways but… "I… I need some air" you chocked out. You were too overwhelmed. You needed some distance to clear your thoughts, to understand what you felt. So, you pushed him away just like he had done with you.  _______________ You and Din hadn't talked since then. Not on the Slave I. Not when you had gone out with him and Boba to recruit Bo-Katan and Koska. Not even when you were fighting against Moff Gideon with Din. But your thoughts had been racing through all of that. Screaming and clawing at the walls of your mind. You knew Din was suffering. He was suffering because of you and how you had reacted. You knew were wrong and needed to fix this… And then that Jedi appeared to take Grogu with him and you froze, unable to from any words or thoughts, unable to protest. This had been Din's and your mission. Grogu needed a teacher. But all those logical reason didn't make it any easier to watch. It wasn't any easier to watch as Din took the little green bean on his arm. It didn't make it easier to watch him remove his helmet so the little one could see his face for the first time. It didn't make it easier when you saw the slight tremble wandering through Din. You didn't need to see his face to know he was fighting against his tears.  But what made it even harder was when Din sat him back down and Grogu tiptoed towards you. You immediately leaped forward and scooped him up, coming to a halt right beside Din. You cradled him in your own arms, hugging him tight as you felt the tears clouding your eyes. Grogu stretched his little hands towards your helmet just like he had done with Din. You didn't hesitate to rib it off and let it fall to the ground. It didn’t matter anymore, nothing else mattered anymore. Underneath your hair was a mess of unkempt tangles and locks, your eyes filled with tears as you looked at Grogu with them and not through the visor for the first and last time. He placed one of his hands underneath your eye, clumsily wiping away the tears. A sad smile stretched over your lips at that. He cooed softly as you hugged him tighter against you while quiet sobs shook your body.  "Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, ad'ika" you whispered so quietly even you struggled to pick it up. But maybe the heartbeat was just echoing too loudly in your ears. Either way, Grogu might not know what the words meant exactly, but when he tried to hug you back you were certain he had understood the weight in them.  But all this didn't make it easier to set him down and to let him go. _______________ You were still staring at the elevator door even when it had stayed closed for many minutes now. You still hoped they would open up, so you could see him again. You were still staring at it even when the others slowly left the room, their gazes lowered and not looking back as they were walking into the elevator to get to the ship, leaving you two alone. They walked into the same elevator in which Grogu had disappeared into. You knew that this was the best for him, but that didn't hinder your heart from shattering. You sucked in a sharp breath and closed your eyes when you felt another wave of tears forming in them. But when you felt a hand intertwine with your own they snapped open again and it took all your willpower to not look to your right, to not look at Din whose eyes were also still focused on the elevator. It took everything in you to not look at Din without his helmet on. This was the moment you realized that you could faintly make out some of his features from the corner of your eye. You could see him, parts of him, for the very first time. And it forced the tears in your eyes to spill over as you collapsed on the floor, breaking your fall with one hand whilst the other was still in Din's. He didn't let go of you, instead he slowly let himself fall beside you. So close you could feel his warmth beside you. So close it made you unable to breath.  "I'm sorry" you whispered. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry!" Your voice gained in volume as you wailed in pain. You had lost Grogu once more. You had pushed Din away when he had needed you most. You had pushed him away when he had felt like he failed. But the truth was that you had failed him. "I am an awful friend. I am an awful partner. I-I-" you sucked in shallow breaths, clawing at your throat with your free hand as you sat back on your legs. Then Din squeezed your hand and you froze. Your mouth opening and closing without producing a sound. He tugged your hand towards him, cupped your hand in between his own and placed it over the chest plate where his heart was beating underneath while still staring straight ahead just like you were. "Stop" you hissed. "You are supposed to hate me. Please, just push me away. I don't-"  Before you could finish your sentence Din suddenly pulled you to him. He wrapped his arms around you, one hand placed on the back of your head as he pressed you against his chest. "You're supposed to hate me!" you screamed while you clawed at his coat, burying your fingers into the worn out fabric while tears burned their path into your skin. You didn’t understand this. How could he act that way, how could he bear to hold you in his arms after how awful you had reacted, after how badly you had hurt him? How could he even stand to be in the same room with you? "Why don't you hate me?" you begged, your voice barley over a whisper now. But Din didn't answer you. He just kept you pressed against him until your body stopped shaking, until your wails and cries died down and all you could do was to exhaustedly melt into him. Your shoulders were still shaking every now and then when you sucked in a sharp breath and the tears had left behind deep paths in your skin.  "You're still a Mandalorian" you whispered after a while, your voice hoarse. "It didn't make you any less of a Mandalorian. I would have done the same. I wouldn't have hesitated and that makes how I reacted even worse. I'm sorry!"  "It's okay" Din suddenly whispered back. You tensed up at that and it took all your willpower to not free yourself from his embrace, to not push him away again, to not run away.  "No, it's not!" you barked back. "When I boarded the Razor Crest we said we would have each others back, that we would always be there for each other. I said I would always be there for you!" You pressed your eyes closed, forced the tears back.  "Hate me. Push me away, scream at me! Kriffing, just leave me behind!"  Din tightened his grip and placed his head on top of yours. You felt his chin press against you as his breath tickled over your hair. And you couldn't hold the tears back anymore.  "Please, just hate me."  "I don't" he said, his voice soft but stern. "You hurt me but I don't hate you." You let out a stifled cry and pressed your face underneath his chin and against his neck, breathing in his scent, feeling his skin against your own for the very first time.  "I'm sorry" you said, your voice breaking.  "I know" Din chuckled slightly and slowly let his hands wander to your face, cupping your cheeks, wiping away the remaining tears. "It's okay, we'll get through this." We'll get through losing Grogu. We'll get through our pain and hurt. We'll get through this together. You nodded as you sobbed, your fingers slowly relaxing until they completely let go of Dins' coat. Your arms dropped to the ground with a thud while Din drew slow circles on your cheeks, brushing back your hair every now and then until your body relaxed against him. For a while you two stayed like this, seeking the comfort of the other. Then he slightly tugged at your head, wanting to pull it back and you immediately understood his question. You tensed up. "I don't deserve to look at you" you whispered, pressing your face further into him.  "That's not your decision" Din stopped and took a deep breath.  "I want you to see. I wanted you to be the first one to see and I'm sorry that it wasn't you."  "Don't apologize" you croaked out and slightly shook your head in between his hands. "You have nothing to apologize for. I would have done the same." You felt Din nod against you, the humming sound in his chest vibrating in your own.  "I want you to see me" he began again. "But I also want to see you… if you'll let me?"  Your hands shot up to cup his cheeks just like he was cupping yours as you nodded. "Yes."  For a few moments in which your hearts were beating against each other’s ribs, no one moved. You didn't dare to be the first one to move, you didn’t dare to be the one to initiate, so you waited. Din sucked in a deep breath before he slowly pulled your head back. You felt his eyes wander over your face immediately. However, you kept your eyes lowered. "Please, look at me."  Your lips began to tremble, your eyes shut tightly. For a few seconds you just focused on how his face felt underneath your fingers. You focused on the slight stubble you could feel, the deep lines in his face formed by hardship and worry. You focused on the warmth of his skin seeping through your gloves, on the locks of hair that were tickling against the back of your hand. Then you slowly looked up. You looked up, you laid your eyes on him and your breath got stuck in your throat. You couldn't think as tears formed on the corners of your eyes once again. You got lost in the warmth of Din's deep brown eyes. You got lost in the gentleness of his smile that was tugging at the corners of his lips ever so slightly and the uncertainty of his furrowed brows. You lost yourself in him just as he was losing himself in you, in your eyes, in your own quivering lips.  "Su cuy'gar, mesh'la." You couldn't hold back the tears anymore just as you couldn't hold back the small sad smile forming on your lips. "Su cuy'gar, mesh'la" you retorted with a small, breathless laugh. For a few more heartbeats you just looked at each other, eyes soft and filled with tears, fingers wandering over the others face, exploring the scars, lines and imperfections. Your heart was hammering rapidly against your ribs, so much that you were able to feel it thumbing in your throat. Then Din slowly pulled you forward until your foreheads were firmly pressed against one another. You felt his breath tickle over your face and it made shivers run down your spine. The tears in Din's eyes finally spilled over as he let his hands wander to your hair, inching to pull you even closer. A soft laugh left his lips when you wiped away his tears with your thumbs. It made your heart swell and clench at the same time.  "Ni ceta" you whispered. "Ni ceta. Ni ce-"  "K'uur, ner sarad" Din interrupted you as he stroked through your hair. You closed your eyes and breathed in his soothing scent, concentrated on his heart beating against your ribs, his breath ghosting over your lips. He was so close you could almost feel the smile on his lips. Your eyes shot opened, locking onto his when you felt his thumb brush over the top of your lip, tracing your mouth. His eyes were slightly hooded, filled with the impulse to lean forward. But he didn't. Instead he raised his brows slightly, questioningly, asking you. And all you could do was wordlessly nod. Din closed the small gap between the two of you in an instant, placing his lips over yours, so lightly it felt like only a gust of wind, like a cool breeze on a hot summer day. You melted into him, pulling him closer, pressing into him. You kissed him back, your lips dancing against his just as cautiously. And then you cried once more, sobbing against his lips, losing yourself in the sensation. You felt his pain in that kiss, his worries and fears. You felt the loss that was clawing at him, breaking him slowly piece by piece. And that made you kiss back harder, more desperately. You put all your own sorrow into that kiss but also all your love.  When you two slowly pulled away, you both stared breathlessly at each other. No one spoke up but you didn't have to, to understand the other. You could see everything you needed to know in Din's eyes for the very first time. You would get through this. You would work through this. You would overcome the pain and hurt.  _________________________________  

Translations:

Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum - I love you Ad'ika - little one, son Su cuy'gar - Hello Mesh'la - beautiful Ni ceta - sorry, lit: I kneel (grovelling apology)  K'uur – Hush Ner sarad – my flower

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Taglists:

Permanent Simps: @buckysalefty

Din Djarin Simps: @theflightytemptressadventure​ / @sarahjkl82-blog / @remmysbounty / @undeniableadrenaline / @kassidydjarin / @freeshavocadoooo / @dindaddy / @wonderless-screwup / @helena-way07 / @n0ffitar / @24-blackbirds

If you want to be added/removed/switched to another taglist at any point just let me know! Crossed out names I was unable to tag for some reason. Also, I think some of you changed their usernames? Sooo, I hope I managed to tag you correctly...

Dream Me Home: Before Shiganshina

Pairing: Erwin Smith x Reader (gender neutral)

Tags: angst, mild fluff, established relationship (implied), canon universe. Reader is one of the Veterans. spoiler alert if you haven’t gone through anime S3

Summary: Moments shared with Erwin Smith leading up to his timely death. A three-chapter story, surrounding moments before and after the Battle of Shiganshina.

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: Set after Levi tried to convince Erwin not to head for Battle of Shiganshina.

This will be a trilogy, with the next two parts coming up soon! All the time set before, during and after Battle of Shiganshina. Hope you enjoy this!

There was an evident pain in the eyes of Levi Ackerman and Hange Zoe as they stepped out of Erwin’s office, and you could feel the weight of their stares immediately fell to the floor when they met your eyes.

Your steps were heavy as you approached them, but it was obvious that they had no intention to making a stop at you. Just Hange passing sympathy to you, patting your shoulder in consolation and Levi, the ever so quiet soldier, murmuring with regret, “We couldn’t change his mind. Sorry.” 

And then they both strived on. Leaving the hallway leading to Erwin’s office as quiet as it was before.

You could feel the stonewall of Mitras grew cold at your touch as you leaned to it, as you gathered what’s left of your heart. You had been anxiously pacing outside Erwin’s office for hours, wishing that there was enough power in Hange and Levi’s words in convincing Erwin to turn away from the eyes of war. You had been wishing, that if your solemn plea did not get to Erwin’s heart, at least his camaraderie with Levi and Hange would. As it happened, it all turned out to be nothing but a wishful thinking.

The afternoon sunrays dispersed through the columns of Mitras, and they made a beautiful gleam of warmth on the hallway steps leading to Erwin’s office. There’s beauty in living, you thought to yourself and it saddened you because you did not understand why Erwin would want to leave this all behind.

You racked your brain, trying to gather all the things you would reason to him with. All the beauties in the living he could see: The glimmer of Trost’s cobblestones underneath the street lamps; the joyful shriek of kids basking in the summer heat; the piercing cold of winter expedition outside the wall; or even, the mundane military briefing with the odd bore that Darius Zackly was, where Erwin would steal a glance at you across the room. And then the smile you faintly threw back at him, or the butterflies within your guts as you saw him rose from his seat, laying out his battle strategy before the eyes of the Wall’s most important men. Would those be enough reasons to soften the hardened heart of Erwin Smith?

He knew you had been lingering outside his office, evident by his call to you just now. His deep voice seeped through the door that wasn’t fully closed, “You can come in now.”

You knew what it was not to cry, to dismiss your emotion for it was the worst weakness a soldier could ever possess. Battle-born and inured, you had no privilege of being fragile when it comes to the fate of all human: death.

So, you remained stoic, as you walked in to his office.

“Commander.”

“Captain.”

Your eyes met, and the look of agony was apparent in the skies of his eyes that had grown cold and tired. He averted his eyes from you, quickly to the paper works laid out on the desk in front of him. Your heart broke to see the struggle he had writing down simple notes, slowly and carefully by each alphabet, as he was still trying to make use of his left arm.

You closed the door behind you and made your way to him, repossessing all the self-restraint you had, “You’re a difficult man to sway.”

Once the door was closed, and there were only the two of you, you could feel warmth started to grew in Erwin. Something unbeknownst to other soldiers but you, “I am,” He said with a dim smile, “Unfortunately.”

“You must be proud of yourself,” there was a bitterness in your statement that you masked by pacing around Erwin’s office, staring afar at the view of the afternoon through his windows.

“I would, if I still had my right arm,” Erwin laid out a large parchment, and reached for the ruler, staring at the squad formation that he had strategized, “and not be a dead weight to my soldiers—do you mind?”

You quickly helped to hold the parchment and the ruler in place, as Erwin drew formation lines with his left hand. Shaky, he messed his inked.

He gruntled in annoyance and threw a new parchment on the table, signaling you to take over instead. You had become acquainted of Erwin Smith’s thoughts and ideas, and without much direction you drew the formation he was meaning to draw.

“I will lead the cavalry here,” he pointed at the forefront of the formation, motioning for you to draw accordingly, “the rear will be packed with new recruits. Unfortunately, it will be our most susceptible point. I’ll have Levi there.” You drew an x with red ink on the places he’d pointed at, a mark signifying the position of humanity’s strongest soldier.

“Where Hange and the kids will be?”

“They’re not kids anymore,” he retorted in dismay, there was almost a pain in the way he spoke, “not since the wall broke.”

He had grown to care for the kids, you came to realize. The 104th Cadets who got so deep in the crossfire of humanity’s last effort to survive, and now they’re at the front-line of it. Retaking Wall Maria was the mission, and Shiganshina was the destination. This was the city decimated by the might of the Colossal and Armored Titan years ago, the beginning of a prolonged dark sequence in a life that was already a living hell. And now they were to return, at the same place it started, facing the same Titans.

You remembered it, fighting for survival through the hurdles of cobbles and rubbles, as houses and buildings of Shiganshina flew like debris across your head. The uncanny stench of guts and blood, as you made your best effort to keep anyone alive from the wrath of the giant devils.

The way your Scout uniform latched on to your skin, dampened by the blood of mothers and daughters – is a memory forever ingrained deep within your mind. You were there, and the fear never left you. That’s why you left the Scout and joined the Garrison, “serve where you may” were the words that Erwin uttered the day you announced your repositioning, as you coped with the possibility of losing Erwin, each time he braced another expedition outside the wall. No longer with you close to him, or in any position where you may give aid whenever danger bruised him. You were selfish, but Erwin understood your decision.

“Is this the formation you’re going to use against the Beast Titan?” you asked. There was an immediate scare creeping through your spine as you mentioned the devil’s name. You had heard of this newly emerging titan; a creature of horror, one that was so menacing with capability beyond compare. The one that took Miche, and the one that Erwin had to face now.

He did not say a word, only a nod.

“Have you fought him before?” The wariness in your voice was getting apparent, as emotions started to defeat your trained restraint, “how do you know your standard formation would work on him?”

The Commander sighed, validating your fear. Ever since he lost an arm, his balance had been quite compromised. He put his hand on the surface of his working desk for support, as he sat himself down on his leather-bound chair.

“You don’t.”

“Yes. You’re right,” Erwin paused for a moment, and slowly tilted his head up to look at you towering over him. It was a foreign sight, to see him wounded and fragile as he had always been the shield of courage to your feeble heart, “I do not. I want you to know that.”

“What will happen then?”

Erwin looked down, his right hand reached to where his left arm used to be, massaging it softly. You knew he had not coped well with his injury, the sleepless nights, the ghostly itch, the deprecation he inflicted towards himself. Erwin Smith was not used to being looked down and pitied, and it frustrated him to no end. When the news broke that he would be heading for the mission, everyone thought the same, ‘He is going to die’, but no one had enough guts to tell him directly to his face but Levi and you. Everyone thought that Erwin was oblivious to this possibility, but only the two of you knew that Erwin already anticipated the possible lethal end for him, and still, it would not dissuade his choice. Erwin had made his decision.

Erwin reached for the ruler and pointed the lines and crosses you had drawn, elaborating the plan of capturing both Colossal and Armored Titan with the explosive device that Hange had invented. He talked about the prospect of retaking Wall Maria, its details and strategies, and it was upsetting that at times Erwin would treat you like you were only his soldier, not someone who had been close to his heart for years.

You softly put down the ruler in his hand to the desk, as your eyes fell on his, “Erwin, what will happen to you?” The Commander in Erwin dissipated in your presence, and you could feel his eyes started to display the vulnerability he had sworn to disguise to no end, “You’re in no condition to fight.”

“That’s true.” He muttered, holding the hand you had on his ruler. His thumb softly caressed the skin on your knuckles as he dragged his stare away from your eyes – gazing afar at the afternoon skies that had turned warmly tinted as the sun fell, “Levi was adamant that I’d return as a corpse if I go.”

The coil in your guts grew tighter as you gulped your despair down with the pretense of a toughened comrade, “I share his foresight.”

“You do?”

“Erwin, I do.”

The words hung in your throat like a tumor. You realized, death has countless faces, and you have encountered many of them, yet Erwin’s would be the one death you may never recover from.

Erwin smiled, taking your hand to his lips and kissed it long, closing his eyes with an odd serene look on his face, “In another world, you would say those words in a completely different circumstance, you know?”

You cackled, because you had no better response to that, but even trying to humorize the predicament you were in only pain your heart further, “Yes, I know.”

The tears finally broke soundlessly, it seeped through the crack of your broken heart, and cascaded down your face to Erwin’s relief, as he realized he still held what’s left of your heart, “What will become of me then?” you asked, “Without you?”

He stood up and pulled you closer, cupping your face with his coarse hand and kissed the eyelid where the tear had fallen from, as he said softly, “I want you to listen carefully.”

You nodded, and peeled your face away from his hand. Listening like an obedient soldier that you were.

“If I don’t make it, Hange will lead on as the Commander. Levi, he will make it out alive. He must.” Erwin eyes didn’t leave yours, “Many of us will not be returning home. If I be one of them… I want you to take me home. Whatever left of me. I want you to be the one to recover my body, and lay me next to my father.”

“My soldiers will need your help. If the time comes and a messenger has been dispatched to confirm that we have won the battle, I want you to bring your Garrison squad to Shiganshina, to help the wounded, and bring the bodies home – to peace that they have died for."

You nodded, although his words swarmed your mind like piercing knives. But you nodded, because you wanted to be strong even when the strength that you always leaned yourself on was to depart and never return.

You looked once again at the divine blue irises that taught you all about duty and tenacity, and imagined the life you could live on if Erwin and you weren’t born in the lap of despair that you called home. In another life, you would hear music of peace and pride, not somber wail of war and wrath. But for now, you chose to live and savor the painful taste of goodbye.

“I’ll be close behind, Commander,” you said with a faint smile, dusting yourself up, “you can count on me.”

Erwin passed a solemn nod as he pulled you in closer to the last embrace you would have with him, and whispered, “Dream me home, my darling. Dream me home when I’m no longer here.”

Hey guys! Thanks for reading it. So far, this is still one of the works that I enjoyed writing the most, so glad if you happen to like it!

ADD-ON: Anyway, if you like this and wonder how Levi x Reader version the night before the battle would be like, @weepinglevi wrote Levi's conversation with his S/O the night before the battle. And I really love her works so much, you can check hers here.

Hope you have a nice day and remember: Erwin loves you.

Or you can check my Masterlist here!

A wounded heart

 Chapter 3: Home.

Pairing: Wong Yukhei x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Genre: Fluff, Angst, eventual smut (High school !AU)

Warning: Yandere!Lucas, kidnapping, obsessive behaviour, rough handling, swearing. Slight mention of somnophilia, collars and leashes, pet names, he smacks Y/n.(NSFW will occur later into the story, and I will write the warnings onto those chapters)

Word count: 1.6k

A/n: Still figuring out the formatting of this shit. Please bear with me okay! I’m also realizing I don’t have to write what part it is everytime, I literally give chapters. I’ll start putting the chapter title at the top so you know what order to read in.

Lucas pov

God they look so pretty sleeping like that, I love the soft look on their tear stained face. The way their eyes were glazed over, mouths open a jar, and that pretty bruised neck of theirs. If they’d just co-operated, they would have been okay. Sat safely in my car, wide awake and getting to know me.

But no, they chose to be a dumb little bitch. Struggling, screaming, crying. They looked beautiful, but it would do neither of us any good if someone had heard or seen them. 

I just wanted to take them home, I wanted to be with them forever. I will be with them forever, but they need to sit down and listen to what I have to say. And now even as I pull up to our home with them sitting safely in my car, I can’t help but think they’re going to get away from me again. 

I parked the car on the small dirt path and slowly crawled out of the car, walking over to their side and swinging the door open. God they were so fucking pretty like this. So innocent and vulnerable, they could be like puddy in my hands. So fucking vulnerable and easy to take advantage of. But I can’t, I don’t want you to be my little slut, not yet anyway. Soon my dear, soon.

I quickly threw them over my shoulder and slammed the door, walking into the home and down into the basement. I had laid a mattress out there, along with a pair of handcuffs next to a bar. A bar I couldn’t wait to see their pretty little wrists attached to, always there when I needed you, needed to see you. Mine. My pretty little prince/princess.

Y/n’s pov

I open my eyes slowly, blinking the discomfort out of my eyes. The room around me is pitch black, and the floor is soft, like a mattress. I sit up slowly and as I’m going to crawl off the bed, something feels sharp against my wrist, pulling me back into the bed. 

“Hello?” I cried out into the darkness, only to hear the loud thumping of footsteps walking on the floor above me, and then a door swung open with some light shining through. 

“Y/n? Are you awake baby?” I heard a deep, raspy voice call out before hearing the thumping coming down what I assumed to be stairs. And then a bright, blinding light shone through the entire room, forcing me to shield my eyes at the sudden light. 

After seeing HIM standing at the bottom of the stairs, his predatory eyes staring into my soul, I felt like I couldn’t breathe. It was like he was taking every breath out of my lungs, sucking out my soul, with just one single look. And as he slowly walked over to me, it felt like my chest got tighter and tighter, until he eventually stood towering over me. 

And then he sat down next to me, his head down in his hands. He looked distraught. Perturbed even. I just looked at him, not really knowing what else to do. I mean I couldn’t do anything else, I was cuffed to a pole that didn’t seem to be moving anytime soon. 

Lucas’ pov

Oh god what did I do. Why are they here, handcuffed in my basement. Oh god oh fuck. How do I explain now? Will they even listen? Will they even understand? I have to try, I can’t let them get away. They’re mine after all, they’ve always been mine.

“Y/n, I want you to listen very carefully to me okay? Do you remember me?” And as I watched them shake their head, I sighed and ran my hands through my hair. “Okay then, listen up.”

“It all started way back in grade 1, you were on the playground and I was sitting on the swing…”

(Switching to third person just for the flashback.)

The sound of children laughing filled the air as there was an active game of tag going on. However, Lucas sat alone by himself on the swings, watching everyone. He’s always been an observer, never really getting in on the action. 

“Lucas! Come play with us!” His attentioned snapped over to the little boy calling out to him, he just shrugged it off and kept swinging. He didn’t want to play with the kids, he wanted to watch. He wanted to observe, try and figure out what they were thinking, and what they would do when they were being chased. He was almost always right.

Then, there was Y/n. The most playful, energetic and outgoing kid on the playground. Making sure everyone got equal chances to run and be IT. but at this particular moment, they were walking over to Lucas, smile wide of their face. 

They didn’t say anything, just grabbed Lucas hand and started walking. Lucas didn’t protest, just followed. “Play” They said quietly, and Lucas nodded, His eyes stayed fixated on the person in front of him until they took off running. This made him realize he’d just been tagged and laughed as he took off running after one of the kids.

After that encounter, Lucas had stayed friends with Y/n all the way up to grade 6. Until, Y/n’s mom got a job. 

“You’re moving?” Lucas exclaimed at lunch time with them, the class going silent under his loud voice. They got a little shy, but nodded. “My mom got this job, she can’t turn it down. It’s in Seoul so I have to move with her since I’m not old enough to stay by myself.” 

“Stay with me Y/n. My family will take you in” Lucas said in a plea, reaching out to grab their hand “I can’t Lucas, I can’t just leave my mom. She’s all I’ve got.” They said and then it was time for the next class. They spoke briefly after school, but it wasn’t enough for Lucas. 

He couldn’t bear to be losing Y/n, how could they do this to him. He cried and cried that night, cutting up all the pictures together and taping them onto his wall, drawing hearts after them in his mothers lipstick. 

And then he’d found a picture of their mother, gluing it to the wall and drawing a big X over her. 

Years later, He’d saved enough money to move to Korea. He already knew what school they were attending, and after their mother died in a “Freak accident”, he knew they were all his.

Back to Lucas’ pov

I obviously left out the parts about me obsessing over them, and the thing about their mom. But I told them how much I missed them, and how sad I was that I never heard from them again. 

“Y/n, I’ve missed you so much you have no idea.” I spoke quietly, calmly as to not scare them anymore then I already had. Their eyes were wide, as if everything was just processing in their brain. I couldn’t stand the silence, I needed to know what they were thinking.

“Please Y/n, say something.” I said quietly, almost whining. “Lucas… My mom really liked you. She always thought I’d marry you someday.” They admitted softly, smiling a little bit. 

“Wow, now you remember me” I chuckled out, stroking their cheek slightly, watching as they melted into my touch.

Y/n’s pov

Oh god he’s touching me. This sick creep is touching me again, so endearingly. But I had to play it up, acting like I liked it. The sooner I was off these handcuffs, the sooner I could make a run for the hills. 

I watched as his smile twisted into what seemed like a sick grin, his hand slowly reaching down to my throat to grab it and pull me closer.

“Have you forgotten something about me baby?” He whispered quietly into my ear, making me shiver “I know just how to read you. Don’t think you’re going to leave me again just because you play all innocent and nice with me.” 

His hand is quickly replaced by something leathery, tight. Omg he put a collar on me, and he was attaching a leash to it before I even knew it. 

“Now.” He said, his already deep voice getting deeper, thicker. “Are you going to be a good kitten and listen? Or am I going to have to teach you a lesson”

I gulped heavily when he suddenly pulled on the leash, his eyes screaming DANGER, DANGER.  “I asked you a fucking question.”

“Y-yes sir… I’ll be good” I mumbled out quietly and he tugged on the leash again, harsher this time, sending me flying towards his face. “Oh no kitten, I want you to call me master. Because you will do whatever I tell you, isn’t that right?” He whispers as he licks a strip up my neck.

I just nod in response, but he doesn’t seem to like that, a hard smack coming down on my cheek. I quickly bring my free hand to my cheek and whine. “Say it. Now.” He spits, glaring at me.

“Yes master”

“Good boy/girl”

To be continued...

pretty young thing

DO NOT INTERACT IF NOT 16+ thank you <3

miya atsumu x reader x milf!oc

possible part 2???

the way i want this fic to be my reality. is there any milfs or dilfs that want me because bae i’m right here :-)

this fic is atsumu + milf!oc x fem!reader, if you guys would want to see some gender neutral fics just let me know in my asks inbox! i’m open to any suggestions, if you want a fic that’s specifically tailored to you whether that be race-wise, gender-wise, any disabilities, etc,. just let me know!

likes/reblogs/comments are always appreciated:D

this fic has been proofread but if i missed something just let me know!

a/n: so for the milf original character(atsumu’s wife), i imagine her to be the mom from erased, because she is one fine mf. i would love to place my head in between her mommy milkers and [REDACTED]....horniness is a disease.

warnings: language(most of my fics do contain language), smut: cuckolding??, sharing of lingerie(but no gross mentions), kissing, mentions of sex, slight mentions of spit.

word count: 3.8k

summary: it’s always fun to be someone’s little plaything.

you were broke, and in desperate need of money. college tuition is no joke, and that was what motivated you to pull the paper strip from the poster on the lampost. you had always been told you were good with kids so you figured babysitting would be an easy way to get money. you slipped the piece of paper containing the phone number into your back pocket, throwing your hands into your coat pockets as you headed home. 

you had paced back and forth in your cramped kitchen, the slip of paper in between your fingers. before you could overthink anymore, your phone was in your hand as you dialed the number on the slip of paper. 

“hello?” a deep voice interrupted the ringing you heard on the other line. “um h-hi” you cringed at your slight voice crack, “i’m calling about the babysitting offer, i picked up one of the slips outside of a cafe,”. it was silent for a moment before the person on the other line spoke, “oh yeah the fliers, babe!” he yelled, causing you to pull the phone away from your ear slightly.

“got someone for the babysitting job,” “really!” you could hear soft cheer in the background, causing you to smile slightly. you could hear shuffling for a moment before someone began talking on the opposite end of the line, a woman this time. “hi! i’m his wife,” her voice was sweet and soft, “did you tell her our names?”. though you couldn’t see it, atsumu shook his head sheepishly behind the phone. 

“of course you didn’t, gotta come behind you and do all the hard work,” she grumbled jokingly, causing you to laugh softly. you swore you could hear a murmur of “last i checked you don’t mind being behind me sometimes,” a slight whine of “tsumu!” following in a chastising tone. 

“sorry about that,” she apologized before continuing. “you can call me mrs. miya, if the interview goes well then we’ll be getting very close!” “i’m y/n,” you offered up your name, bouncing back and forth on the heel of your foot due to how nervous you were. “would you like to come by sometime tomorrow? i’ll send you all the details,” mrs. miya offered. 

“that’d be great, thank you.”

their home was beautiful, arguably one of the of the prettiest one’s you’d seen. the stucco was a cream color, a beautiful walkway leading up to a set of dark oak doors. there were wall length glass windows looking into various rooms on the first floor of the house, green curtains slightly impairing the view into the home.

you stepped up the stairs of the walkway, ringing the doorbell. you opened the door to be met by a breathtaking man, but you internally shook your head at the thought. 

he was happily married. 

“hi, y/n?” he smiled. you nodded with a smile of your own, mr. miya opened the door further, motioning for you to come inside. you bowed your head slightly in thanks, stepping inside, mr. miya shutting the door behind you. you stood off to the side, the papers mrs. miya had told you to bring clutched tightly in your hands.

“follow me to the kitchen,” mr. miya smiled at you, to which you nodded in response, a soft smile on your face. their kitchen was beautiful, a dark oak wood floor accompanied by white walls. the cabinets were an olive green color, a few plants neatly hung from the ceiling. 

your train of thought was broken as a cheer of your name sounded from across the room, “y/n!”. you turned at the sound, mrs. miya standing up from her chair at the kitchen table. you walked over, mr. miya behind you, smiling at his wife. “nice to meet you,” you smiled. mrs. miya offered her hand, to which you obliged, shaking her hand.

“oh who am i kidding, i’m a hugger,” she pulled you in for a hug. “is this alright?” she whispered into your ear, her hand rubbing at the small of your back. the best you could do was hum out an affirmation, hoping the large gulp you had taken wasn’t noticeable. 

you pulled away, your cheeks feeling hot. mr. miya laughed softly from beside you, walking over to his wife, his arm falling to wrap around her waist as he spoke, “now what did we say about hugging strangers?”. mrs. miya just smiled in response, “i have a feeling she won’t be a stranger for too long, dear,”. 

they shared intimate eye contact for a moment, causing you to look down at your shoes. “y/n, sit, please,” mrs. miya offered. mr. miya rushed over to your side, pulling out a chair for you. you ushered out a soft thanks, sitting down. “so, we’ll get started with some simple questions, no pressure” mrs. miya started. you nodded in response, shuffling slightly in your chair. 

“any previous experience babysitting?”

the questions had lasted for about 40 minutes, the couple asking about your age, school experience, previous job occupancies, what you thought your wage should look like. the questionnaire had lasted barely an hour, but you had been at their home for three. 

you had spent two hours conversing with the couple, learning about their life, and them learning about yours. mrs. miya had told you the story of how she had met atsumu, the details causing you to laugh. “he fell in the fountain trying to serenade me,” she laughed. “hey, you promised not to tell anyone that part!” mr. miya whined jokingly, playfully elbowing his wife.

you smiled at the couple, enamored by how in love they were. “what about you?” mr. miya asked, causing you to tilt your head and hum in a questioning tone. “are you in a relationship?” he clarified. the question caused your cheeks to heat up, but you answered nonetheless, “no, i’m not dating anyone right now,” your voice had gotten quieter, “i just ended a relationship about 6 months ago, so i’ve been weary about getting back out there,”. 

you stopped there, worried you were boring the couple with the details of your love life, but when you looked up from fiddling with your hands, the pair of them showed that they were listening to you intently. “love’s hard,” mrs. miya said simply, reassuring you. you nodded in agreement before atsumu spoke up, “don’t stress about throwing yourself back into the dating field, you’ll know when your ready,” he bounced off of his wive’s words.

“hell,” mrs. miya spoke, the word sounding foreign coming from her lips, “maybe you’ll find someone when you’re not even looking for them,”

you’d had left their house that day with butterflies in your stomach, but you couldn’t figure out why. you had been over to babysit a couple times, and every time you arrived at their home, those butterflies reappeared. the butterflies magnified when atsumu caught you looking at him or his wife, or when their hands would brush against your body trying to get past you in the kitchen.

this was your fifth time babysitting, the miya’s home and the couple themselves becoming more familiar.

you rang the doorbell, playing with the rings on your fingers. hearing the doorknob turn, you looked up to be met by mrs. miya’s smiling face. “hi y/n!” she grinned, holding the door open for you to come inside. you smiled back, letting out a soft hello in response to her greeting.

you stepped inside their home, the feeling more familiar yet so strange at the same time. she led you to the kitchen as you walked behind her. they had explained that they were going to a work gala for mr. miya’s job. on your interview day, they had explained their professions, mr. miya being a professional volleyball player, and mrs. miya being a psychiatrist. 

you had known they were going to a work gala, meaning you knew they would be dressed to the tee. if you knew this, then why were your eyes raking over mrs. miya’s figure in the way they were? her hair was pinned up, gold earrings being flaunted. from what you had seen at the door, she had on red lipstick, matching the insatiable red of her dress. 

speaking of her dress, it hugged her figure so well. her hips were accentuated in the fabric, which fell down the entire length of her body. she had on gold heels to match her jewlery, her look being perfected. 

before you could admire her any longer, you stopped suddenly, mrs. miya slowing in front of you. atsumu was leaning on the wall near the entrance of the kitchen, smirking at you. “she looks stunning, huh?” his voice having an all too-knowing tone to it. 

you couldn’t help but blush, shame rushing through you. you had been caught ogling his wife, you couldn’t help but be embarrassed. “no need to get shy,” atsumu said softly, walking over to his wife who had now turned back to look at you. 

you had expected her face to exemplify an expression of disgust, and yet, that sweet, saccharine smile was still on her lips. “y-you look you beautiful mrs. miya,” you said shyly, “you too, sir,”. atsumu was donned in a tux, his hair gelled slightly and brushed back to either side. “thank you, y/n,” mrs. miya offered her appreciation for your kind words. 

atsumu was still staring at you, something unreadable behind his eyes. “you’re scaring the poor girl tsum’ say thank you,” mrs. miya chastised her husband. “thank you, y/n,” atsumu drawled. you couldn’t help but notice the way your name fell off his tongue, captivated by the way he could make it sound so desirable. 

“money’s on the table,” mrs. miya spoke, “haru’s on the couch watching adventure time,” mrs. miya chuckled, causing you to smile. “we’ll be back around 11,” atsumu said, grabbing his wife’s hand. mrs. miya said her goodbyes, her husband doing the same. 

you watched as mrs. miya placed a kiss on her child’s head, atsumu smiling down at his son. it was a heartwarming scene. “be sure to lock up,” atsumu said as he and his wife headed towards the door.

 he looked over his shoulder at you, smirking, before speaking once more, “thanks again for the compliments, y/n,”.

you had sat down next to haru and watched adventure time for a good hour. eventually, you had gotten up to make him mac and cheese. he was a sweet kid, his parents raising him with wonderful manners. you ran a bath for him after dinner, the boy begging to bring his toys in with him.

you obliged, adding bubbles to the bath and one too many teenage mutant ninja turtles. once he had dried off from his bath, he got dressed for bed, brushing his teeth. he said his goodnight, and made you promise that you would tell his parents that he said goodnight to them too. you smiled down at the boy, holding out your pinky. 

you switched off his lamp, “door closed or open?” you asked, “closed please,” he said softly. “alright, get some sleep,” you smiled at him, shutting his door. you had walked downstairs, sitting down on the living room couch. you mindlessly scrolled through your phone for a bit, double-tapping photos. you saw headlights flash through the window, the couple arriving home. 

you figured you’d wait for the doorbell to ring before unlocking the door, in order to show atsumu that you had locked up as he had said to. you sat for a minute more, confused on why the couple wasn’t already at the door. you figured they may have been sitting in the car talking, your attention falling back down to your phone.

30 minutes, and long one’s at that, had passed. you didn’t want to invade on their privacy, but you were tired and ready to go home. you peeked out the window, and the car was in the driveway. 

the windows were fogged, and the car seemed to have a slight shake to it. a hand slapped against the backseat window, and as your mind put 2 + 2 together, you quickly averted your eyes from the scene.

you couldn’t help the arousal that began to form in your lower area. you could feel your cheeks heat up as you sat back down on the couch, crossing your legs and rubbing your thighs together.

two minutes later, the doorbell rang. you rushed to the front door, taking a deep breath before unlocking the door. sex was written all over the both of them, atsumu’s gelled back hair now slightly falling over his forehead, his cheeks flushed a light pink. mrs. miya was in a similar state, her cheeks tinged a darker shade of pink then atsumu’s.

“sorry we’re so late,” atsumu smiled, his hand falling to the small of his wife’s back. he led her inside, walking to the kitchen and you followed. “how was haru?” mrs. miya asked, a slight breathlessness to her tone. “oh, um he was really great, he’s really well behaved,” you answered.

mrs. miya smiled at that, throwing her clutch down on to the table before sitting down. “water, hon?” atsumu asked from across the kitchen, mrs. miya nodding before letting her face fall into her hands. 

atsumu set a glass of water down in front of his wife, the woman muttering out a soft thank you. he opened the liquor cabinet, grabbing the bottle of bourbon and a crystallized cup. “bourbon, tsum?” mrs. miya scolded slightly, atsumu just shrugging in response. 

“i n-need to get this dress off,” mrs. miya said, seemingly growing slightly more unsettled. “atsumu’s drunk as a fish,” mrs. miya groaned, flailing her hands in the direction of her husband, “bet he wouldn’t even be able to find the zipper,”. 

she turned towards you, her voice softening, “would you mind coming up and unzipping me? sorry to keep you longer, i just need to get this dress off,” she huffed out a sigh. “of course, i don’t mind,” you said politely, following mrs. miya out of the kitchen. 

you turned back to see atsumu leaning against the counter, tipping his glass of bourbon towards you with a wolfish grin. 

mrs. miya took off her other earring, setting the gold piece down in her jewelry box. their bedroom was close to how you had expected, elegant but comfortable and homey. “sorry it was such a long night,” mrs. miya said, her back still turned towards you as she fiddled with the clasp of her necklace.

“it’s alright, i really don’t mind,” you watch the clasp of the necklace open and close a few more times before you offered, “did you want help?”. “yes,” mrs. miya sighed, “that’d be great, thank you,” she turned back to smile at you.

she had unpinned her hair, most likely in the car, brown locks falling over shoulder. her hand grabbed her hair, brushing it over her left shoulder. your finger pulled down on the little gold clasp, separating the link of the necklace.

you lifted it over mrs. miya’s head before setting it down beside the jewelry box. “thank you,” she smiled, “o-of course,” you replied meekly. “would you mind getting my dress now,” mrs. miya asked. “oh um, yes,” you cringed at your awkwardness, your hands falling to the neckline of her dress.

you grasped the zipper between your pointer finger and thumb, pulling down. you had to tug a little harder as you got further down the dress, but eventually the item of clothing pooled at mrs. miya’s feet. you forced yourself to look somewhere else, eyeing the photo of mrs. miya and her husband at the beach.

“can i ask you something?” she paused for a moment, “just between us girls,”. you hummed out an ‘mhm’, looking down at the ground now. “do you think atsumu will like this lingerie? i was on the fence about it when i bought it,”. at her words, you couldn’t help but let your eyes rake up her figure.

the lingerie was blush pink, and lace, acting as a subtle parallel to mrs. miya’s skin. you became more and more aware of how hot the room was becoming, had it always been this hot? you looked up, mrs. miya facing you now, her eyebrows raised in question. “so?” she asked plainly, that sweet smile still on her lips.

“i-it’s lovely, mr. miya will love it,” you stuttered, forcing your eyes away from her body. mrs. miya walked over to the full length mirror on the other side of the room, her hands brushing over her body. “i don’t know, i think i feel weird cause i’ve only seen it on me,” she hesitated before her smile grew and she clapped her hands together. 

“you have to try it on, i think i need to see it from another perspective,” her eyes were glinting in delight. “oh n-no, i couldn’t,” “please, i’d really appreciate it,”. you bit on your bottom lip before simply nodding. mrs. miya’s hands raised to the bra clasp but you stopped her before she could remove the bralette from her body, “i-i’ll! i’ll try it on the bathroom,” you quieted down towards the end of your sentence, your cheeks flushed with heat.

“oh okay,” she said, “walk right through the door, i’ll pass it through in just a second,”. you opened the barn door that led to the master bathroom, closing it behind you. you took a deep breath, rationalizing what was going on at the moment. a knock broke you from your rushing thoughts, “here you go,” mrs. miya’s soft voice sounded through the wood of the door.

you opened it, a green robe covering her body now, “i-i’ll put it on, and be-” your voice cracked slightly, “be out in just a second,”. mrs. miya nodded in understanding, smiling before you shut the barn door.

you unbuckled your jeans, folding them neatly before setting them on the countertop of the sink. you pulled your shirt over your head, folding it and placing it on top of your pants. you were embarrassed with the panties you had chosen to wear today, zebra stripes and hot pink hearts covering the fabric. you pulled your panties off, putting them under your jeans and out of sight. 

your bra came off next, and you flung it atop your clothes. you huffed out a deep breath, pulling the white lace panties onto your body. you couldn’t help but think that mrs. miya had just worn these, the thought sending shivers down your spine. you put the bralette on next, slipping it over your arms before clasping it in the middle.

you looked over your appearance in the mirror, shaking away any insecurities. you walked over to the barn door, pulling it open little by little. you could see mrs. miya’s head turn expectantly and once the door no longer covered your body, her eyes lit up. “wow,” she sighed, and you couldn’t help but want to curl in on yourself.

your embarrassment must of been visible, mrs. miya quickly reassuring you, “you look fucking amazing,”. the curse word sounded so foreign falling from her lips, yet you reveled in the harshness of the word coming from her lips. “t-thank you,” you said quietly. 

mrs. miya’s voice was cut off by the sound of the bedroom door opening. you quickly realized what that meant, but before you could even react atsumu’s eyes were locked on your face and falling down your figure. “got started without me, huh?”.

you felt like crying, embarrassed that mr. miya was seeing you like this. “atsumu!” his wife chastised. a single tear fell down your cheek, your throat burning and yet there was that hint of something you felt deep inside of you.

“i-i’m sorry y/n, we should’ve been more upfront with you,” mrs. miya said walking over to you, her hand brushing away the tear that had fallen down your cheek. more...upfront? what did she mean? 

atsumu could sense your confusion, that slight smirk still lingering in his expression, “what my wife is trying to say is that,” atsumu started, walking closer to you, “we think you deserve a reward, been so good tonight, waited here for so long too,”. mrs. miya’s hand that was on your cheek was now rubbing your shoulder. 

your hair had been tied up since earlier, and atsumu’s mouth latched onto the exposed skin of your neck, sucking on the skin. he pulled back slightly, admiring the reddish-purple mark blossoming on your body. he plunged in once more, leaving lingering kisses along your neck, your cheek, your jawline. mrs. miya was kissing your shoulder, her hands gripping your hips.

“atsumu stop for a moment,” atsumu grumbled, but pulled away nonetheless. mrs. miya grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at her, “is this alright? if you want to stop we can, we’ll forget it ever happened,”. your bottom lip was pulled between your teeth, your entire body feeling as though it was on fire.

“but if you want this, we need to hear it,” mrs. miya finished, her eyes glazing over your expression intently, searching for any hesitation. “w-want this,” you said quietly “want you both, please,” you whimpered. you heard atsumu chuckle lowly from behind you before your line of vision was shifting from mrs. miya to her husband.

“so fuckin’ pretty,” he said, his voice gravely. “we’ve been wantin’ to do this since the first fuckin’ day,”. next thing you knew atsumu’s lips were on yours, the distinct taste of bourbon flooding your senses. atsumu pulled away, a line of spit connecting your lips, before he moved back to your neck, sucking another hickey into your skin.

“so greedy tsumu’,” mrs. miya said, turning you to her once more before her lips locked with yours. her lips tasted sweet, her tongue slotting over yours and easily winning dominance. she pulled away flashing that sweet smile at you once more. they were going to be the death of you. mrs miya walked you back towards the bed, pushing you down onto the soft mattress.

“gonna be good for us, right?” she mumbled into the skin of your stomach, kissing down the length of your body. “look at her babe, she’s already fucking drooling,” you heard atsumu speak from above you, his body towering over yours.

mrs. miya pulled away from your skin for a moment, looking up at your desperate expression. “look so pretty,” she sighed, her hands playing with the waistband of the white lace panties. “gonna look so pretty when your full of tsumu’s cock too, huh?”. you whined at the thought, your hips thrusting up into nothing

“told ya we wouldn’t be strangers, tsumu,”

OKAY I KNOW KINDA A CLIFFHANGER ON THE SMUT I DONT MEAN TO EDGE YALL LIKE THAT :{  but i really wanted to get this out. maybe i’ll do a part 2 depending on how this part of the fic does??? thank you for reading love you<3

The Queen of Underland: Izzy

CW: Panic attack, child of recovering adult whumpee, anger as trauma response, referenced noncon kissing and touching (nonsexual), childhood bullying, referenced past domestic and child abuse, some gendered and ableist insults (kid to kid and nothing too intense - just fair warning)

Izzy, at nine years old, has been free with her family for almost five years now, and her mother has been in prison on a life sentence for two. With attention, affection, and therapy, she has blossomed into a quiet kid who nearly always has her nose in a book.

When two classmates try to put her in the center of a storm, Izzy finds something inside herself that she has pushed down for so long she had nearly forgotten she ever had it.

Izzy finds her father’s anger.

Jax Gallagher belongs to @comfy-whumpee and is used with permission.

---

Izzy sits at her desk, perfectly still, reading a book while the teacher’s out of the room speaking with another teacher in low voices, just in the hallway. The sun shines in the windows that line the wall, lighting the pages of her book, and one of Izzy’s hands rubs repeatedly over the seam down the side of her uniform skirt, the only movement she makes beyond her eyes.

Around her, the others are whispering, passing notes and giggling (except for Noah, who has his own book open, and Jack, who is drawing his story about giant killer robots in a notebook, and Sarah, Jack’s twin sister who is trying to build a tower of pencils and paper), but Izzy barely notices them.

When the teacher comes back in, Izzy will not be whispering, or giggling, or doing anything that might bother her. When the teacher comes back, Izzy will be quiet, and good, and put her book back into her desk and look up with her hands in her lap. She’s the quietest kid in class, she heard the teacher say so.

At home, she’s not always quiet anymore, but at school she still holds a balance, protecting herself and keeping herself safe in the best and truest way she knows - by simply being exactly what the adults need her to be, and keeping all her real feelings and thoughts inside her head.

Still, while the teacher’s out of the room, she takes a few minutes to read while she has the chance. Her heart beats cold and heavy in her chest as she scans over the words on the page, biting down on her lower lip, worrying at a bit of chapped skin. Her left hand settles over the soft texture of pages nearly yellowed with time spent in the school library being held by hundreds of small hands. The fingers on her right hand feel over the seam of her skirt, right along the outside of her leg, again and again.

Fierce anxiety, and a little fear, swirl inside her for the characters that exist only in ink and her imagination.

Two Earthmen entered, but instead of advancing into the room, they placed themselves one on each side of the door, and bowed deeply. They were followed immediately by the last person whom anyone had expected or wished to see: the Lady of the Green Kirtle, the Queen of Underland. She stood dead still in the doorway, and they could see her eyes moving as she took in the whole situation—the three strangers, the silver chair destroyed, and the Prince free, with his sword in his hand.

“I think I like Karissa,” Henry Fitzgerald, who sits at her left, says to his best friend Kevin Magden - not to be confused with Kevin Michaelson, and didn’t the teacher sigh over that sometimes. He has to speak over and around Izzy’s head. 

“Like, like like her?” Kevin Magden asks, sounding half-horrified, half-fascinated. Izzy fights not to roll her eyes, and tries to focus back on her book, on the entrance of the Queen, on the Prince freed but faced with great danger.

The Queen of the Underland, the lady who held the Prince in the dark for ten whole years, that’s older than Izzy even is. Coming into the room to find the children and the Prince, and her having no control any longer. 

She turned very white; but Jill thought it was the sort of whiteness that comes over some people's faces not when they are frightened but when they are angry. For a moment the Witch fixed her eyes on the Prince, and there was murder in them. Then she seemed to change her mind.

“Run,” Izzy whispers, to the children, to Puddleglum the strange marsh creature, to the freed Prince. “Don’t talk to her, just run. Don’t listen to whatever she says, don’t.”

“What are you even saying, Izzy?” Kevin Magden says.

“She’s all in her book like always,” Henry Fitzgerald says, shrugging. He makes some sort of gesture - Izzy doesn’t look up to see it - and the two of them laugh. She doesn’t care about that. The story is far, far more important than they are anyway. “Anyway, Kev, I like-... yeah, I think I like like her. I’m gonna tell her at break.”

“Gross,” Kevin says, but he sounds fascinated. “What if she says she doesn’t like-like you back?”

Henry shrugs again - Izzy can see the movement from the corner of her eye. “Dunno. Maybe kiss her.”

“Gross,” Kevin repeats, much more emphatically. 

Izzy tries to keep her mind on the page, but shifts uncomfortably in her chair. She closes her eyes briefly, thinking of the Queen of the Underland, standing in the doorway. She imagines her with very white skin and dark, long fingernails, wearing a long dress that brushes the earthen floor, making a soft swish-swish sound as she walks. In her mind, the Queen of the Underland has very bright blue eyes and lots of curly, dark brown hair that is threaded with silver down her back, wild and uncontrolled, like it can reach out and grab you and drag you into the dark with her.

She feels like the Queen is not a stranger to her, and not hard to picture at all. Try as she might, she can’t make the Queen in her imagination look like the description of the Queen in the book. She only ever looks one way - beautiful and wicked, deceptively soft, eyes brilliant and shining too bright when the Prince is in pain.

Will she hurt him, while the children have to stand and watch and can’t save him at all?

"Leave us," she said to the two Earthmen. "And let none disturb us till I call, on pain of death." The gnomes padded away obediently, and the Witch-queen shut and locked the door.

"How now, my lord Prince," she said. "Has your nightly fit not yet come upon you, or is it over so soon? Why stand you here unbound? Who are these aliens? And is it they who have destroyed the chair which was your only safety?"

Izzy can hear the Queen’s voice, musical lilt, simpering sweet and dangerous. Why are you leaving me? How dare you. Come back here, Jax, you can’t leave, you’re mine. 

Kevin and Henry are still talking, but Izzy doesn’t hear them any longer. She’s lost in the panic rising inside of her. Run, she thinks, in a scream, a shout in her mind. It isn’t that she doesn’t understand it’s just a book, but that she is still scared, frightened for the prince whose father had grown older while he was gone, whose family must have missed him so much. She is frightened for the children who do not understand the witch or how to fight her. She’s frightened even for Puddleglum, who only wants to help, to do the right thing. Don’t talk to her, don’t give her the chance, just run. She’ll make you hers again. She swallows - it feels like her heart beats itself right up into her throat, like she is swallowing around it - and keeps reading.

Prince Rilian shivered as she spoke to him. And no wonder: it is not easy to throw off in half an hour an enchantment which has made one a slave for ten years. Then, speaking with a great effort, he said:

“I’ll kiss her even if she doesn’t like me back, anyway.”

Izzy’s breath catches, and she blinks, feeling like she has been pulled out of a spell herself. She looks up, glancing sidelong at Henry, who isn’t looking at her at all, just talking to Kevin. “Hen-... Henry-... what did you say?”

“None of your business,” Henry replies, voice harsh and loud enough to get some of the others to look over at them, and Izzy’s shoulders creep up towards her chin, face burning red. She hates when everyone looks at her, hates it more than anything. Henry looks back at Kevin. “At break, I will. I’ll tell her, and I’ll kiss her, whether she wants to or not.”

Izzy looks back down, but the words on the page run together, she can’t see them any longer, they’re just squiggles, meaningless little lines. What I want just matters more, whispers a nightmare she can never quite feel woken up from. She tries, she really does, to focus again on the book but she sees secondly, she took out a musical instrument- 

Izzy slams the little paperback shut, sticks it back in her desk, and says in a thin voice, “You can’t do that if someone doesn’t want you to, it’s wrong.”

“It’s not a big deal, Izzy, geez.” Kevin on her other side speaks up now, and between them she feels like she’s being battered, tossed on a sea, shoved down, locked in the dark. Izzy stares down at her desk, then, letting her eyes lose focus on the wavy colors in the polished wood. Light brown, almost auburn, and darker brown, almost a chocolate color, very like the hair on Izzy’s own head, clipped short and spiky.

Very very like the wavy, thick curls that ran down her mother’s back, that smothered Izzy in the smell of her shampoo and perfume. 

“It is a big deal,” Izzy whispers. “It’s wrong, to make someone kiss you. It’s wrong. It-... it hurts them. It matters what they want, too.”

“Ugh. It's just a kiss. You’re bonkers, you know that?" Henry leans over, almost in her space, and Izzy sits back as far as she can until she presses her back hard into her chair, enough to hurt. “Absolutely mad.” 

“No, I’m not,” Izzy mumbles, but panic twists even worse inside her. Is she? Her mom is. Isn’t she? Don’t you have to be, to be evil? Dr. Marty says no, that those two things are totally separate and people are just bad at understanding that people can be really, really, really bad and still be sane - that bad people almost always are - and Dr. Marty knows everything about crazy and not-crazy, that’s his whole job, and she’s not like her mother anyway, she’s not. 

“Are so,” Henry taunts, falling easily into the familiar cadence of mockery, and Izzy’s face burns brighter and hotter as the room begins to fall quiet, other conversations falling away as the others realize there might be some entertainment now. Her breath comes faster, and she closes her hands into fists at her side, fighting to control the way the fear and a new rise of anger start to twist around inside her stomach, making it flip, making her feel sick. “You’re bonkers for sure, Izzy Gallagher.”

“I-I’m not. I’m not, I’m not, I’m not! It’s not right to kiss people who you don’t know if they want to or not! It’s not!”

The room feels suddenly too small, and too big - she can’t escape Henry’s bean-breath and she can’t run far enough to get to the door, she can’t run at all. Some small voice inside her demands she stay still, shut her mouth, never talk again. She should have just finished her book, seen how the Prince would escape the Queen of the Underland, seen if the children help him or just weigh him down, one more bit of stone tying him to Underland and maybe he wishes he could just leave them behind, if they bother him, if they’re no good-

“Ewwwww, who would want to kiss Izzy?” A girl near her wrinkles her nose - Lindsey Smith, Izzy’s brain supplies, in an airless dizzy spin of details that aren’t important but she can’t stop circling around. “She looks like a boy.”

“Hey, back off.” Izzy, surprised, glances over her shoulder to find Noah Hawkins looking up from his own book, eyes narrowed. “Izzy’s hair is cool, and it’s cooler than yours anyway, Lindsey-kins. You just wish you looked as good as she does.”

“Shut up! You just say that because you’re a boy, of course you think boy hair looks cool.” Lindsey sticks her tongue out, crossing her arms in front of herself. She has big poofy hair like Izzy’s would be if she didn’t have her dad cut it so short, held back with a clip. Hers is red, though.

“There’s no such thing,” Sarah says from over by the window. “As boy or girl hair, I mean. There’s no such thing. It’s all just hair. Izzy’s hair does look cool. You all should leave it alone, Mrs. Brent is going to be back inside any second and we’ll all get in trouble if there’s fighting.”

“Yeah, Izzy,” Henry hisses at her, leaning in close. Too close. She forgets how to breathe. “Stop causing trouble, Izzy.”

“I’m not,” Izzy whispers. Her face feels like it might light on fire. Her fingernails dig into her palms, until she feels flashes of pain, creating crescents that could take hours to fully fade if she did it hard enough. “I was-... I was just-”

“Just butting in where you don’t belong,” Henry finishes for her. “It’s not your business.”

“It’s-... but, but I just-” Her voice is fading fast, airy and breathless, barely a whisper. Quiet little Izzy Gallagher, who never stands up for herself, who lets everyone talk to her like this, who never says a word she isn’t asked to say. Her fear batters her with wings inside her chest, but beneath it is something else entirely, trying to rise up and take over her mind and mouth. Anger. She and Dr. Marty had talked about it, about how it was a normal feeling to feel, but every swell of it within her was met by the rising tide of fear in response.

She never lets herself be angry. That would make her like her mother, who was angry so much, and she’s not like that, she’s not. 

She doesn’t think, in the moment, that her mother isn’t the only parent who knows how to be angry.

The thoughts are not conscious. They aren’t driven by any kind of logic, they loop and swirl around each other. They flash bright like light in the back of her mind. She thinks about the story, the book inside her desk, the way the Prince fell upon the silver chair, how he swung his sword in dim light. 

She thinks about the prince walking out the hotel doors with a baby in one arm and a little girl on his hip, a backpack heavy against his back, into the sunlight outside. She can remember the way he breathed quick and shallow against her hair, the racing of his heart as he asked her to be very quiet, and very brave. She didn’t know he was scared, he didn’t say it, he was just the Prince, shining in the sunlight, asking for directions to the train station and going in a suit to court later and the silver gave way before the sword’s edge like string, and in a moment a few twisted fragments, shining on the floor, were all that was left of the chair. 

“But-but-but-but, I just-” Henry is still going, and Izzy’s eyes burn as hot as her face, lips pulling back from her teeth in a grimace like a snarl. “Just shut up, Izzy Gallagher, nobody cares what you think.”

“Don’t be a dick, I care,” Noah says, from the back of the room, his voice getting louder, now. Other students whoop and go ooooh, Noah likes Izzy, but Noah ignores them, and he doesn’t turn even a little bit red. “Izzy hasn’t done anything wrong to you.” She barely knows Noah, he’s in her class but they don’t talk or anything. This is the first time he’s done more than help her with a math problem, this is the first time she’s heard him even talk in class without the teacher calling on him.

But it feels good to have somebody else stand up for her. 

“She’s butting in!” Henry protests, hands up like he’s the innocent one. “Kevin and I were just talking-”

“About kissing Karissa Bellweather!” Izzy half-shouts. “From the other class! You were talking about kissing someone even if she doesn’t want to! You said you would even if she said no! That’s not right!”

“Ew,” Someone says, Izzy doesn’t know who. Her blood is rushing in her ears almost too loud to hear. “Do you like-like Karissa Bellweather, Henry?”

“No! I don’t!” Henry looks stricken. He hadn’t expected her to just say it out loud like that to everybody. “Gallagher’s lying! She’s a liar!”

“I’m not! I’m not a fucking liar!” Her voice is too loud and she claps her hands over her mouth. Don’t cry, she thinks to herself, and her own thought-voice twists into her mother’s sharper edges. Her palms ache and she wonders if her nails have broken skin, but the wonder is faint, and faded. She feels a hand pressed against the back of her neck, the Queen of the Underland’s voice beside her ear. Don’t cry, Bella. You’re so ugly when you cry. Jax, get her out of my sight. 

“Fuck off,” Izzy says, voice trembling. She isn’t really talking to Henry, not anymore. “Leave-... leave me alone.”

“Oooh, what’re you gonna do, huh? Gonna throw some punches?” Kevin is too close on the other side, now. They’re both too close. Izzy’s heart beats all out of time, and when she goes to breathe, it… it doesn’t work. Her breath is stuck in her throat, halfway down. The air just… sits there, and she can’t hitch it in or exhale it. It feels like her throat is closing up, she’ll choke on nothing, black out and fall down. “Bonkers Izzy Gallagher, gonna fight us, are you?”

“I-I could-” Her voice is a whimper, and Izzy closes her eyes. 

“Could not,” Henry mocks, from his side of her. “You’re weak as a puppy. What are you gonna do?”

“Stop-... stop you from talking anymore,” Izzy says, and pushes her chair back with a loud scrape, getting to her feet. She should tell Dr. Marty about the book, she thinks, about the Queen of the Underland. She should tell her father about the Prince tied to the chair, and how he chopped the chair to bits, and she should tell them all about it, nice and safe and quiet at home, and not do what she’s afraid she’s going to do instead.

“How, gonna use something you learned from your mam in prison?” Henry asks, and Izzy remembers, all at once, how to breathe - but it’s all poison. She gulps in air, fear sparking up, her nerves feel like a hundred thousand tiny lightning strikes. She wants to run but she’s at school and there isn’t anywhere to go. 

“Wh-what?”

“My dad says your mam’s famous in the States for being in prison,” Henry says, leaping on this new tactic as the blood drains from Izzy’s face. He’s like animals on the nature shows that James likes to watch at home with their snack, circling a calf all alone. She’s a wounded baby calf, she’s weighing the herd down, she’s not strong or brave enough, she never was. “Did she teach you how to prison-fight? Ooooh, did she show you how to make a-” He jabs at the air, fist closed empty around an imaginary knife. “A prison-blade?”

“Shiv,” Kevin supplies helpfully.

“Right, that. Did your mam show you how to shank someone?”

“I don’t-... I don’t talk to my mom,” Izzy says, half-strangled by her own words. Her head is spinning. Her backpack is so far away. “We don’t-... we don’t have contact-... she doesn’t talk to me, isn’t allowed-”

“Oh, ew.” Henry sits back, and his face lights up with the simple cruelty of wounding someone who looks unable to fight back, of regaining his own stability and distracting everyone from his embarrassment by bringing up Izzy’s shame instead. “Are you so awful even your mam doesn’t want to talk to you?”

No. She doesn’t. Izzy’s lip trembles. She can’t bring herself to try and respond. She doesn’t, she doesn’t want to know anything about me at all. The last thing my mom ever said to me was yelling at me not to look so scared all the time and Dad said she never asked about me when he talked to her during the trial she never asked she never-

“Hey, Henry,” Someone says. “This is super gross stuff to say, isn’t it?” Izzy can’t see anything but Henry’s face, everything else is white noise and his words ringing through her, settling too deeply inside, meeting her own thoughts that match them, sometimes, on hard days. She never asked about me, she doesn’t even care that I hate her. Your mam is supposed to care if you hate her. You’re so awful your mom doesn’t even care about you. Your mam is supposed to-

“Yeah, Henry. That’s too far, that’s really mean.”

“She can’t help who her mam is, Hen.”

“Yeah, it’s not like she went to the mam shop and picked a rubbish one.”

“My dad was away for a while, Iz, I get it. My mam says it doesn’t say anything about us. People make bad choices is all.”

“I haven’t even seen my dad since I was five, Izzy, it’s okay, don’t be sad.”

“Yeah, it’s okay, Izzy, don’t be sad, Henry’s just being awful.”

“Hey, she was awful first!”

“Go run up a pole, Henry. I like you, Izzy,” Sarah says, from the window, and moves in her direction. “Henry’s being a jerk, don’t listen to him. Don’t be sad. It’s okay.”

“I like you, too, you’re fun at break, you always have good ideas for games.” That’s Amira, using that certain kind of tone you use when you are trying to comfort an upset person, and Izzy feels some of the ice closing around her heart starting to warm up, to melt, to crack apart. 

Even Lindsey says, almost grudging, “Don’t be sad because of Henry, Izzy. He’s really mean sometimes.”

“I think you’re really cool,” Noah says, in a quieter voice. “Please don’t be sad. Want to play monsters at break?”

They don’t all hate her, they don’t. Someone puts a hand at her back, and she flinches, and they pull the hand away, but they don’t hate her for pulling away, they don’t hate her voice or her hair and they don’t hate her for speaking up, they don’t. 

Henry hasn’t given up, not yet. “Your mam’s in prison for being a shit to your dad, isn’t she?” 

Izzy doesn’t look at him, leaning down to pull the book out of her desk, trying to think. She can pull her backpack out and go the nurse, say she’s feeling sick, and maybe her dad will come get her and take her home. They can call Dr. Marty and she can tell him what happened and Dr. Marty will know what to tell her and her dad to work on for the next time. She can tell him that there were good things, too, like that Noah said he thinks she’s cool, and Amira likes her game ideas, and not everybody hates her because she has the wrong mom, and it’s going to be okay. 

It’s going to be okay.

“Henry, stop it,” She says, in a half-whisper. “Please stop.”

She can go to the nurse. Say she’s sick, it’s not a lie, her stomach is all twisted up in knots. It’ll be true, she’s not going to feel better. She has sweat on her forehead drying cold, making her shiver a little. It’s not a lie, being scared makes her sick, it’s a real sick, it’s not a lie. She gets sick a lot from being scared, Dr. Marty says it’s normal for kids who have anxiety, she has exercises to do, she can picture all her hurting thoughts and move them away, and… 

“That’s what my dad said.” Henry’s voice cuts in. “He said your mam’s a piece of fucking work and probably made your dad one, too-”

“Don’t talk about my dad!” She rounds on him, then, book clutched to her chest. “Don’t you dare, you don’t-... you don’t have any right! You don’t know what happened, you don’t know us, you don’t know anything! My dad is better than yours ever could be! And, and stronger, and braver, too!”

Izzy Gallagher, quiet as a mouse, teacher’s pet from sheer terrified inaction, who always sits still and listens carefully and takes direction so well and is just an absolute pleasure to have in class, Mr. Gallagher, an absolute pleasure, is shouting and doesn’t realize it until the words have left her mouth. 

She should stop, some part of her brain begs her to stop, but the anger is suddenly larger than the fear and she is a little girl with a sword. Where they came from, and what she and her father and her little brother have survived, is a silver chair she will hack to bits until all that’s left shines like jewelry when held up to the light.

Henry’s eyes widen, they are big saucers, and they are very bright and very blue.

“My dad is amazing.” She can’t stop shouting. She’s not even trying to stop any longer. “He lived through really bad stuff and he still got us away from it! Even though it would have been easier to go by himself and leave us, he didn’t, and my mom is evil, and I’m not, because you don’t have to be what your mom is and I’m not ever going to be like that, but you are evil, Henry Fitzgerald, and you don’t even have an excuse! You’re-... you’re mean for no reason, and I hope Karissa spits in your face and kicks you between your legs as hard as she fucking can! You are an asshole, Henry Fitzgerald, and you can go fuck yourself all the way home!”

“Isabella Gallagher!” Mrs. Brent’s voice is shocked, and the words die in Izzy’s throat, as she slowly turns to see the teacher standing in the doorway, staring at her like she’d grown three heads and all of them have fangs. 

Izzy feels like she has fangs, too. And claws, like she is a monster herself. She should be scared, or sad, or ashamed of herself, but all she feels is anger burning bright and hot and good in her veins, louder than fear. Angry feels safer than scared. She feels proud of herself, a feeling so unfamiliar it seems like it must be someone else’s. Sarah, close to her now, whispers, go Izzy, in a soft impressed voice, and Izzy feels her eyes burn again, more than before, but for a different reason. 

They don’t hate her, and Henry isn’t saying bad things about her dad any longer, because of her. They don’t hate her.

“You might be even cooler now,” Amira says, and the teacher shushes all of them and points Izzy out, telling her to go see the Head Teacher. Any other Izzy would slink out with her shoulders hunched, full of fear, but this Izzy feels the buzz of standing up for herself running through her and warming all the cold, chasing the heavy hand on her neck away. This Izzy walks with her chin up and her shoulders back.

Some of the warm feeling goes away when the Head Teacher calls her dad to come get her, and says in her stern hard voice that Izzy was yelling and cursing at another student. The Head Teacher doesn’t say that she had a reason, and makes it sound like Izzy just stood up and started cursing for no reason at all. That’s… that’s not fair. Grown-ups always do that, make it seem like kids just go off for no reason, and Izzy can’t hear what her dad says back to the Head Teacher, but a lot of the warm feeling goes away, then. Her heart feels cold and scared again.

What if he’s mad at her?

What if she can’t be sorry enough to fix it?

Izzy sits in a hard wooden chair that is shaped all wrong for kids and makes her legs hurt after a while, waiting for him to come get her with a racing heart, her book open in her lap. 

There’s some brown-y red smeared on the cover, drying. She made her palms bleed when she was scared and didn’t even notice. She’ll ask her dad to buy the school library a new one. She wants to keep this one for herself.

"I have come," said a deep voice behind them. They turned and saw the Lion himself, so bright and real and strong that everything else began at once to look pale and shadowy compared with him. And in less time than it takes to breathe Jill forgot about the dead King of Narnia and remembered only how she had made Eustace fall over the cliff, and how she had helped to muff nearly all the signs, and about all the snappings and quarrellings. And she wanted to say "I'm sorry" but she could not speak. Then the Lion drew them towards him with his eyes, and bent down and touched their pale faces with his tongue, and said:

"Think of that no more. I will not always be scolding. You have done the work for which I sent you into Narnia."

"Please, Aslan," said Jill, "may we go home now?"

"Yes. I have come to bring you Home," said Aslan.

A flash of gray, worn jeans in her vision brings her slowly into awareness of the world around her, but it’s the voice that breaks her completely from the story’s spell. 

“Talk to me, kiddo.”

Izzy looks up to meet her father’s eyes, surprised - she hadn’t even heard him come up. But they’re quiet movers, the Gallaghers - except for Jamie, who never had to learn to move so quiet she couldn’t hear him, who never had to push down all his sounds so deep inside himself he could go whole days without making any at all. 

Her dad drops into a crouch in front of her, and his knees crack a little, but if it bothers him he doesn’t show it. He looks up at her, from this angle, and he doesn’t look mad.

He almost never looks mad at her.

“I got a call that you were fighting in class.” He looks like he’s trying not to twitch a smile at the corner of his mouth. “And using some pretty creative language.”

“Can’t imagine where I learned to curse,” Izzy says gravely, and there - that was definitely a smile on his face that he has to hide as fast as it shows. She lives for her father’s smile. Still, she closes her book, and folds her hands on top of the stain on the cover so he won’t see it. “I only yelled a little. Henry Fitzgerald was mean to me, and he was going to-... he was going to kiss a girl who didn’t want him to kiss her, even if she didn’t want him to. He said it didn’t matter if she wanted to or not.”

“Ah.” It’s all he says, at first. His face doesn’t show much, now. Her nervous heart starts to beat fast again.

“It’s, that was, um, that was before he got mean. He got mean when I told him that it’s wrong to do that and… I kind of… told everybody in class he was going to.”

Her father’s eyebrows raise, a little. “You did, did you?”

“Yes. Then he said his dad told him my mom’s in prison and that-” She stops herself, closing her hands tightly over the book, before her voice can start to shake again. She takes deep breaths, strong ones, fills her whole lungs up. Her dad waits for her, he always waits for Izzy when she needs him to. “He said, it was just, it was a stupid thing, but it made me really angry.”

Her dad’s face hasn’t changed, but Izzy knows when emotions change in a room, even without anyone’s face moving at all. She can feel that something has shifted inside him, something he’s not showing her. “What did he say?” 

“That I must be awful if my mom doesn’t even want to talk to me.” She says it flat, like it doesn’t bother her at all to hear it. No big deal, it’s normal to have a mother who hates you for stealing your father even though it didn’t happen that way. “Then he said mean stuff about you, and… I was already upset, so… I kind of went off on him. I’m sorry you got called and had to come get me.”

“But you’re not sorry you did it,” He says, and it’s not a question.

She presses her lips tightly together, and shakes her head. “I’m… I’m not. He needed to be yelled at. I’m not sorry, Dad. I mean, I am sorry that you have to do anything, but, I’m not-... sorry for calling him all those names and I will put my money from my birthday in the swear jar if you want, I’ll skip tea for a week and put all my chocolates in there, but I still won’t be sorry for yelling when he was mean about you.”

He huffs a sound like quiet laughter and offers her his hands. “Izzy… I don’t care what a year three kid - or his dad - says about me. But clearly it was important to you. Let me go in there and talk to the Head Teacher about it, and we’ll talk out what happens next on our way home. Okay?”

No anger, or threatening punishments, no mention of discipline ever leaves his slightly smiling lips. Izzy is never taught through making her afraid, not anymore. But he waits, seriously, for her to acknowledge what he’s said. 

“Okay, Dad. We’ll talk about what I need to do. And-... can we call Dr. Marty when we get home? I-... want to talk to Dr. Marty about what happened.”

He looks surprised, but not unhappy about it, and nods. “Yeah, kiddo. Good plan. I’ll be back out in just a bit.” When he turns to walk into the Head Teacher’s office, she thinks that even with everything, he looks very like a grown-up prince, and the rings in his ears look like shredded silver. 

She lifts a hand to touch the shell of her own ear, on her left side. 

Izzy opens her book, to the murmur of their voices as they talk about her. She decides to finish it later, and instead she flips back to read again the bit where the prince takes his sword to the chair that kept him under the spell and tells the evil Queen of Underland that he isn’t hers any longer. 

He will go home, to his family, to be freed of her entirely, even if she still shows up in bad dreams… bad dreams are the only place she can come to, now. He’ll wake up and someone will tell him that she’s gone and she can’t come back, and it will be true. They’ll tell him, again and again, until he believes it. 

Izzy will tell her dad, until he believes it.

Jax will tell her, until she believes it, too.

But first… 

Prince Rilian shivered as she spoke to him. And no wonder: it is not easy to throw off in half an hour an enchantment which has made one a slave for ten years. Then, speaking with a great effort, he said:

"Madam, there will be no more need of that chair. And you, who have told me a hundred times how deeply you pitied me for the sorceries by which I was bound, will doubtless hear with joy that they are now ended for ever. There was, it seems, some small error in your Ladyship's way of treating them. These, my true friends, have delivered me. I am now in my right mind, and there are two things I will say to you…”

“Go fuck yourself,” Izzy whispers with a smile on her face and the thrill of forbidden words up her spine. She isn’t talking to Henry Fitzgerald this time, either. She never really was. “And I’m not sorry you’re not Queen anymore at all.”

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