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#this is absurd but here's a harry

dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram · 1 year

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Someone I follow on twitter said that Harry winning was a bad outcome not because it’s the worst album but because it will be most unbearable discourse lol

That's a pretty funny take anon. I think ultimately the discourse would be pretty unbearable whatever happened, because award show discourse is just unbearable. But I can see this perspective.

#I mean the things I saw about Bonnie Raitt winning #were absurd #not just here #as were the fandom comments between 'As It Was' not winning #And Harry's House winning #L

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che-bur-ashka · 6 months

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“of course you should interact with it, harry— that’s what posts are for! do you really think i would waste valuable union time crafting some sort of bait? do i seem like the sort of man who goes fishing, harry? do you imagine me out in the wee hours of my very busy mornings, waiting for who knows how long for some little fishies to come along looking for a nibble? i mean, harry! it’s absurd! here i thought you were a man of the left, but you won’t dunk on a single bad take!”

#disco elysium

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erodasfishtacos · 1 year

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Always Choose You

Happy 2 Years of ErodasFishTacos ♥️

Hi, my loves. Long time, no see! I am coming up on my second year of writing and wanted to celebrate with everyone.

I posted this on my patreon and wanted to share the twins with everyone. Thank you for all the support from everyone over the past two years.

I am still no longer posting regularly on here but I want to give everybody a little something ❤️

prompt: follow MLB!H and YN through nine months of pregnancy with the twins

word count: 10k+

warnings: smut, angsts, birth

Easton is 10, Cash is 8, Ezra is 6, Briar is 4 :)

I really hope you enjoy! Please let me know your thoughts!

love you all so much

isla x

two months; eight weeks

Harry was sniffling the whole ride home.

He had managed to keep it together through the rest of the appointment but as soon as they got in the car, he lost it and was crying.

YN asked twice whether he was okay because she couldn’t quite decipher whether they were happy or not after a few minutes but Harry had just squeezed her thigh and said he was ‘okay’ even though she felt like he was breathing a bit too hard.

“Can you pull over?” YN asks a few minutes away from their house, it was all woods surrounding them as they drove up to where they were tucked away in privacy from the world.

“Of course, do you feel nauseous?” Harry answers instantly but he’s already pulling off on the side of the road - there wasn’t any houses or other cars near them.

“Get out with me for a minute,” YN says instead as she opens the passenger door, waiting until Harry walks around the car with a bit of a perplexed expression but as soon as he’s in front of her, she presses his body back against the car.

“I can’t tell for certain but I feel like your about to have a panic attack. The tears and how fast your chest is moving up and down. Are you scared that it’s twins?”

Harry squeezes his eyes shut and shudders out a shaky breath, shaking his head ‘no’ before actually mumbling, “It…I couldn’t be happier that we’re having twins. It’s a dream come true to have one more baby than we bargained for.”

“Then what is it, H?” YN frowns as she uses the sleeve of her hoodie to wipe the tears off his cheeks as they continuously run down, she hasn’t seen him like this in a long time and it was starting to make her worried.

“I…” Harry swallows harshly, avoiding her eye contact that he normally never did, “I feel like I’m having trouble breathing, I think am having a panic attack because I’m so in my head right now and I am so worried…”

“Harry,” YN replies firmly, putting her hand over his heart, “What are you worried about? The babies are healthy and growing normally -“

“S’not about the babies,” Harry shakes his head again.

“Baby, I’m not a mind-reader,” YN reminds him as she feels how fast his heart is beating, “If it’s not about the babies, then what is it about?”

Harry blinks up at her, hesitating as he wipes his face, “You. I…As soon as she said twins. I know it’s going to be so much for you and it’s not what we planned - to have two more. I didn’t even ask how you were feeling. And now I’m worrying that you felt pressured to have more children and if that leads you to resent me because of the twins.”

YN can’t help but snort out a laugh, “You’re absurd, you know that?”

Harry’s face drops into a boyish pout, “Don’t laugh at me.”

“You’re having a panic attack over something that isn’t even happeninf, H,” YN soothes, using a nicer tone as she wraps her arms around his narrow waist and nuzzles her face into his chest.

“I came to you asking for another baby, I’m sure you remember. I know you wouldn’t have minded more children but I knew you would have been okay with my decision if I didn’t want more. I want both of these babies and now I can’t picture just being pregnant with one. Please stop worry and go back to being happy about it.”

“I’m so happy,” Harry murmurs into her hair as he hugs her closer, “I can’t believe that we are going to have two more bubs running around our house. I think East, Cash, and Ezzie are going to be so excited. Briar may lose her mind not being the baby anymore.”

“Or what if she’s not the only girl too?” YN giggles because she can imagine Briar either loving a sister or having to transition to the idea of it.

“I can’t imagine it, I feel like you’re a boy mama beside her,” Harry smiles, his heart rate already going back to normal, “I love you with everything in me and more. I am so grateful for everything you do for us and continue to do. This family wouldn’t be without you.”

YN pulls back to smile back at her husband, “Do you want to have a quickie in the car before we go home?”

“Hey, I was trying to be romantic and sweet,” Harry remarks as a surprise laugh comes from his chest, his hand moving down to smack her bum lightly as if to scold her.

“So is that a no?”

“The answer to that question will never be no,” Harry’s voice drops lower, predictable as always, “Get your arse in the backseat.”

When they get home from the doctor, Anne is sat in the backyard as all four of the children run around on the playset and sandbox, Easton and Cash chasing each other around as Briar and Ezra look to be having a tea party with their dolls and stuffies.

“Is there good news?” Anne asks hopefully as Harry and YN take a seat on the lounger next to her; the kids hadn’t spotted them quite yet.

“Mum,” Harry can’t tamper down how wide his smile is, “We’re having twins.”

Anne’s eyes widen comically before they start to water, “I’m going to have two more grandbabies? Are you pulling my leg?”

YN riffles through her purse to pull out the sonogram where baby one and two are labeled, they’re tiny and still look like little blobs but they’re there nonetheless.

“My goodness,” Anne puts a hand up to her mouth, eyes watering as she stares at the little picture in her hand, “Two more to love. I’m so happy for you two.”

Anne leans over, tugs YN into a tight hug and it feels like a flashback to when they first told her about Easton.

YN shakily hands over the sonogram to Anne, Harry had his hand firm on her shoulder to remind that he was there.

“Look at how much he’s growing ,” Anne coos as she traces her finger over the photograph, “He’s looking so big!”

“Doctor said he looks completely healthy, labs came back and they were all as they should be,” Harry smiles proudly, his hand moving around to cradle the bump.

“You guys are so excited aren’t you,” Anne grins as she looks between the two of them - the excitement and love was obvious.

“I know we’re young but we are so excited to have this baby. We will be graduated from college and in New York for Harry. It will be a new journey but we are so incredibly happy.”

“That’s all that matters,” Anne hums as she pulls them into a strong hug, “Happy kids and a healthy grandbaby.”

Anne quickly tucks the picture under her thigh when all the children realize their parents are home at last.

Briar crawling up onto YN’s lap and cuddles right into her chest with a whiney, “Mama, mama, mama.”

“I’m right here. We were just gone for a little, hm? Being such a good girl for nana,” YN coos as Briar blinks heavily, she was just about ready for a nap, and that girl loved her sleep.

“Daddy,” Briar lazily reaches over to tug at Harry’s shirtsleeve to get his attention before tucking herself back into the cradle of YN’s arm.

“Hi lil’ mama, I see you,” Harry leans over to kiss her forehead and smooth out a stray curl but lets out an ‘oomph’ when three rambunctious boys jump on him at the same time, “Were you three monsters good for nana?”

They all chime out a giggly ‘yes’ as they cling on their father, excited both their parents are home with them.

“Alright, m’going to give you three a head start. I’m going to count to five and then I’m going to get you!” Harry growls which makes the boys all squeal and begin to run back into the yard.

Harry bolts after them, wasting no time in tackling Easton who’s laughing so hard he has tears streaming down his face.

Briar starts grumbling and squirming around, she is serious about her sleep, she blinks up at YN and says, “Nap, mama. Now.”

“You’re such an amazing mother,” Anne puts her hand on YN’s knee with a soft smile, “I can’t wait to see what this journey brings you.”

month three; 16 weeks

The smallest bump was starting to show on YN’s belly and it was easy to cover with an oversized shirt or hoodie but while she was standing at the mirror, it was obvious to see.

Harry was still in season, traveling, and her bump was changing with such frequency that she looked just a little bit different every time that Harry saw her.

They had to tell the children soon, YN didn’t know how some of them would respond - they knew that Ezra would be excited but she couldn’t guarantee the rest of them.

YN was eager to show Harry that her little bump had started to protrude, she started to show maybe a few weeks later into pregnancy with the others but since she was growing two - she assumed that she would get bigger faster and that seemed to be proving right.

That night, Harry was getting in from Denver and as always, he loved when YN stayed up and waited but he assured her she didn’t need to.

He knew how tired she was by the end of the night from parenting all day, sometimes he found her asleep from where she valiantly tried to wait up but ended up dozing off on the couch.

Harry comes in through the garage, dropping his suitcase and duffle entryway before he goes about grabbing a water bottle and seeing if there’s any leftovers from dinner.

He feels stupid that he gets butterflies in his stomach when he sees a container of chicken, rice, and vegetables with a post-it note that just has the initial H with a heart.

When he puts it in the microwave, YN must hear that because she’s padding into the kitchen in one of Harry’s shirts and just a pair of underwear.

“Mama,” Harry rasps, his voice worn from yelling during the games, “C’mere, I missed you so fucking much.”

YN walks right into his arms, allowing Harry to wrap her in a tight hug before he’s pulling back to kiss her nose then lips.

“I missed you too. I hate when you leave us, never gets easier,” YN sighs sadly and that was something that happened during every pregnancy.

YN always misses Harry when he is gone but when she was pregnant was the only time her hormones were off and she got angry about it before crying and apologizing.

“You know I’m never gone for longer than I need to be. And anytime I’m away, I’m thinking about home,” Harry murmurs sweetly, ignoring the alarm of the microwave signaling his food’s done, “Thank you for leaving me dinner. You always surprise me.”

YN steps back suddenly with an excited grin, taking enough room back so Harry can see her fully, “Speaking of surprises, I have another one.”

Harry squints at her with skepticism, leans up against the counter, “Whassit?”

YN lifts up her shirt and holds it under her breasts, turning to the side, and looking back at Harry to see his reaction.

He just stares at it for a moment in silence before his eyes find hers but he’s holding her gaze for no longer than a second before he’s glancing back down at her belly.

“S’a bump,” Harry whispers gleefully before he is scurrying forward to cradle her tummy in his hands, “It’s little but it’s there. You’ve never showed this early but it’s because we got two of ‘em in there. Oh my god, this is the best surprise.”

YN is always grateful with how attentive he is to her pregnancy, some women she’s friends with - their husbands can’t even remember what trimester there is, let alone week or what their bump looked like from the last pregnancy.

“Let me take a picture,” Harry reaches for his phone in his pocket, taking a few steps back to take a picture of his wife smiling down at where her babies are growing, “Fuck, you’re the most beautiful thing on this earth.”

And right when he’s about to put his phone away, YN says, “Wait, one more picture!”

And when Harry brings his phone back up, YN being the cheeky thing she is, pulls her shirt up until her breasts are revealed - soft but perky as she shakes them at the camera.

Harry definitely snaps more than one picture before he’s slipping his phone in his pocket, “S’that how it’s going to be? You like knowing there’s pictures of your tits on my phone, look at ‘em constantly when I’m away.”

“That’s all you have on your phone?” YN teases with a smirk, knowing there’s a double passcode protected album that contains much more than that.

“Got a pretty nice variety,” Harry drawls, his voice deep with arousal as he begins to stalk towards her, “Your tits, your bum, my cock in you, the list goes on, baby.”

YN giggles as he presses her back into the counter by crowding into her space, the ledge at the lower of her back, and his dinner completely forgotten- he was hungry for something else.

“You’re so easy,” YN tells him for the millionth time in their relationship because she can get him going by just existing.

And Harry replies often in the same way, “I’m demi and I’m only attracted to you. Imagine being married to the most attractive person in the world and that’s what it’s like for me. I am married to the person I’m most and only attracted to, it’s a dream.”

“You’re the most attractive person in the world to me,” YN replies sweetly because it’s true, he is the hottest man on this earth and no one could tell her elsewise.

“Show me then, take me out, pet,” Harry murmurs in the filthiest tone, his athletic shorts showing clearly that he was plumped and ready for her.

YN was just about the tug down on the waistband when a cry echoed out through the house.

The noise came from the top of the staircase because there was a gate up because YN didn’t want any of the children to be half asleep and take a tumble.

It was Briar without a doubt as she cried out, “Mama, daddy.”

“She has not been sleeping well,” YN sighs, patting Harry’s hip, “Reheat your dinner and then come upstairs.”

This was a common occurrence that they had to get used to with a household of children, they were going to get interrupted.

Harry gives a sad little pout but nods, giving her a kiss and a smack on the bum before YN’s disappearing back to the foyer to the staircase.

He can hear Briar’s desperate little whines when she sees her mother, “Mama, mama, hold me, please. Where’s daddy?”

His heart breaks a little bit, YN responds too softly for him to hear but he quickly turns the microwave back on and scarfs down his dinner.

When he found them, YN had brought Briar into their bed which he didn’t mind one bit, and wasn't going to turn down a cuddle from his two favorite girls.

Briar looks up happily from where she’s cuddled into her mother, “Daddy, you’re home. I missed you.”

And it is the sweetest sentiment but he hates that his kids have to miss him, he knows it’s going to be two times harder when he has two more babies to leave at home.

He can’t share it with YN until Briar drifts off to sleep because the kids don’t know about the babies yet but they won’t be able to hide it for much longer.

“How am I going to leave you and them after the twins are born?” Harry murmurs softly after Briar had finally fell back asleep between the two of them.

“The same way you have the past four times,” YN says back as she reaches over to brush at his curls that Briar had run her hands through, “It will be okay.”

“Six kids,” Harry replies with a frown, “I will feel like shit for leaving you, every single time. More than I do now.”

“Have I not handled it well these past ten years? Since Easton was a baby?” YN asks and there’s a bit of defensiveness in her voice like he’s offended her abilities.

“Mama,” Harry titters because he didn’t want his own anxiety to be misconstrued, “It doesn’t have anything to do with you. You do such a fucking good job. We have four perfect amazing kids. It’s more about me, I guess, not being a good enough husband or dad.”

“But you are,” YN reassured him fiercely, “You are the best provider. You provide for me so that I can stay home and raise our babies. You make sure our children have anything they could ever need or want on top of always being present, even when you’re away.”

Harry turns his face to where her hand is on her cheek and kisses her palm, “Are you worried about having six kids at home without me sometimes?”

YN shakes her head, “I always have your mom’s help. Plus Easton, Cash, and Ezra will be in school full time and Briar will be in preschool three days a week before she’s off to kindergarten.”

“I never want you to feel like when I’m away you have to do this on your own.”

“Why do you talk like you abandon me? I’m never on my own. I always have you. I know that if I needed you, you would get on a flight in half a minute.”

He would. He one hundred percent would.

four months; 16 weeks

The bump was noticeable now.

YN could still get away with loose clothing which she has been doing but if the fabric clings anywhere near her belly it’s obvious.

Tonight was when they were going to tell the kids about their new siblings and they didn’t know how they were going to take it.

YN had her bet that Easton would be the least thrilled while Harry bet on Briar having a tantrum over it.

They were both wrong.

It was just after dinner, the sun hadn’t set yet but it was starting to creep below the trees that surrounded their estate to keep everyone out.

YN had made cupcakes and each child was eagerly unwrapping the baking paper to get to the sprinkles and icing.

“Okay, Mama and I have some news,” Harry announces when they had settled back down and were working their ways through dessert.

“S’it good or bad news?” Easton asks through a mouthful of a vanilla cupcake, blue icing coating his lips.

“We definitely think it’s good news,” YN smiles and she felt nervousness in her stomach over delivering the news and Harry could sense it so he took the reins.

“Mama is pregnant,” Harry announces which makes all the children look in a bit of confusion to which Cash interrupts.

“Does that mean you can’t have peanuts? I think Landon is pregnant in my class,” Cash remarks as Easton snickers at his cluelessness which makes him whine.

“That’s an allergy,” Harry chuckles as he clarifies, “It means that mama has babies growing in her belly. Usually, it’s just one. But we were extra lucky and mama has two in her stomach which means you’re going to be getting two brothers or sisters.”

Easton looks absolutely thrilled as he chirps, “Really? That means two more people playing games with us! That means Marco Polo in the pool will be even better!”

Ezra squeals with joy, clapping his hands, and squirming in his seat when he giggles, “I can help mama with the babies!”

Briar is still so little that she’s a bit confused but has a smile on her face.

She seems to like what Ezra says and agrees, “Take care of babies with mama and Ez.”

As for Cash, his brow is furrowed and he had stopped eating his cupcake, silent for a moment before he melts down.

“No! No babies! I don’t want a stupid baby,” Cash shouts angrily as he throws his cupcake on the floor before shoving out of his chair and storming away.

He marches toward the back sliding door that connects to the kitchen, opening it before running out into the backyard where YN and Harry watch him climb up into the tree house they have built.

None of the kids typically acted out like that and it left the three of them in disbelief that Cash had thrown his cupcake and ran outside without permission.

“Cash is in troubleee,” Easton giggles as looks down at the marble floor smeared with sprinkles and icing with a splattered cupcake.

“Easton,” YN says with a firm look.

He zips his lips quick and finds interest in his cupcake wrapper.

“That wasn’t good. Why did he do that, daddy?” Ezra asks within concern as he watches Harry bend down to pick up the thrown food and wipe the floor with a napkin.

“Well sometimes when people have really big feelings, they struggle to express it without doing something. Cash was angry and he didn’t know how to convey it so he threw his food and ran outside,” Harry explains calmly, “So we will talk to Cash about how to express that better and what you guys can do is show him lots of love. Okay?”

“Yes, daddy,” Ezra agrees sweetly and Harry has to lean down to kiss his forehead because he’s just the sweetest boy.

“I’m sorry I laughed,” Easton sniffles as he glances down, “I wasn’t trying to be mean.”

“East,” YN coos softly, quickly making her way over to lean down and hug him, “It’s okay, baby. We know it wasn’t like that, we just have to be considerate of others feelings. No tears, baby.”

“I’m not a baby,” Easton giggles through a few stray tears as his mama blows a raspberry on his cheek to brighten him up.

“You’ll always be my first baby,” YN assures him as she smothers him in love, “My baby Easton, always my bubba.”

Harry’s heart is a puddle of goo as he watches them.

“We should go check on him,” YN murmurs as she ruffles Easton’s curls, “Can you three please go in the den and put on a movie? We will be right back. We’ll just be in the backyard if you need us, okay?”

They agree before Easton is shuffling Ezra and Briar out of the room who are already chattering about what movie to put on.

YN and Harry make their way outside, down to the stump of the tree before Harry calls up, “Cash, can we please come up? S’just me and your mama.”

There’s a minute of silence before there’s a weepy, “Yes.”

Harry and YN make their way up into the little one-room tree house that had a few books and toys scattered about.

Cash was tucked in the corner, looking out the window with damp cheeks.

Harry and YN don’t try to get into his space, staying at the other side of the treehouse, and Cash refuses to look at them.

“Baby, can you please tell us what you're thinking?” YN prompts in her most soothing voice, she hated seeing Cash like this who was normally the most upbeat, carefree, goofy one.

“A-am I in trouble for throw-throwing the cupcake and coming ou-outside without permission?” Cash whimpers, stuttering through the sentence because he was crying so hard.

“No, you’re not in trouble,” Harry tells him in a tone that matches YN’s, “We know we just told you something really big and it’s okay to have big feelings. Next time, we would like you to talk instead of doing those things but you’re not in trouble, bub.”

Cash finally looks at them, green eyes watery and his bottom lip wobbling, “What if Easton doesn’t want to play with me anymore? What if Ezra and Briar like the new babies better than me?”

“Is that what you’re worried about?” Harry asks with his own frown.

“Yes because Easton said more fun with games. Briar and Ezzie were excited too,” Cash pouts but his body language is more open.

When Harry opens his arms, Cash takes the invitation to move over to let Harry wrap him in a tight hug.

At eight, Cash still liked a cuddle but not as often and for Harry it was nice to have his little boy want that once again as he buried his face in Harry’s chest.

“Easton is excited to have more people to play with but that doesn’t mean he won’t want to play with you. Same with Ezra and Briar. The new babies won’t be replacing you. No one could replace you,” Harry murmurs against his son’s identical chocolate curls, “Everyone loves you so so much.”

“Promise, dad?” Cash asks, voice muffled but the words were still clear.

“I promise the twins being born will be a good thing and just make everything more fun. We would never do anything to hurt you,” Harry promises as he rocks his son a bit, a special moment he’ll never forget.

YN gives them some alone time as she goes back in the house, stepping into the den to see that all three are on the couch, and watching Moana.

Easton despises Moana so YN knows he let his little siblings decide because she could see the boredom written all over his face.

She steps over and plops next to him, whispering in his ear, “Thank you for helping. You can have another cupcake if you want one.”

And with that, Easton’s off the couch and scurrying off to get an extra helping of dessert like it was the best prize in the world.

Ezra and Briar peek over at their mother before looking back at each other before her son’s speaking up, “Mama, can we see the babies?”

“Of course, you can,” YN hums as she leans backwards against the couch, pulling up her shirt to reveal the bump.

“They’re in there?” Briar whispers in awe, both of their hands coming to roam over the skin, “What are they doing?”

“They’re getting big and strong,” Ezra chirps in knowledgeably as he leans down to lay his head on her belly, “But we can still cuddle ‘em.”

“Okay,” Briar agrees before adjusting her position too, both of them now focus back on the movie with their heads resting on her.

About fifteen minutes later, Harry’s coming into the den with Cash on his back, arms around his neck, and he’s belly laughing at whatever Harry is singing to him before he’s collapsing on the couch with him, acting like he’s going to squish him.

“Daddy, no!” Cash howls with humor as he lightly smacks his dad’s back before he cuts off which concerns Harry so he follows Cash’s gaze.

Cash was staring at his two younger siblings who were cuddled up against the bump in his mama’s stomach.

YN and Harry both share a concerned glance, unsure of whether this would set him off again after Harry just spent the time to calm him down.

“Mama,” Cash’s voice is shaky again but this time he sounds nervous.

“Yes, baby?”

“Can, um… Can I have a cuddle with the babies too?” He asks hesitant before adding, “I will be nice, not like earlier.”

“Come here, sweet boy,” YN titters as she beckons him over, Ezra moves over back towards his original position on the couch so that Cash can have his turn as his eyes stay glued to the screen.

Cash cautiously moves over until his head is rested by Briar, YN’s hand coming to run her fingers through his unruly curls as he wriggles to get comfortable.

“Just because you got angry earlier doesn’t mean you’re not nice,” YN reminds him, “It’s okay to be upset that there’s going to be a change.”

“Daddy said that Easton, Ezra, and Briar will still want to play with me.”

“Of course they will,” YN soothes with a chuckle, “You’re still going to be just as special to daddy, me, East, Ez, and Briar. That will never change.”

“I think I’m excited then,” Cash mumbles as his eyes start to droop, tired from all the activity, and soon after, his breathing had evened out and he was fast asleep with his head on the bump.

month five; 20 weeks

There was an uptick in paparazzi as soon as people caught wind that Harry Styles was expecting baby number five (and six).

Which in turn, made his protectiveness go up nearly tenfold - always concerned about his wife and children’s safety around aggressive, photo-hungry people.

They weren’t trying to hide the pregnancy, at this point, YN’s bump was big enough that it was unmistakable what it was.

It started at the grocery store when someone snapped a blurry picture of YN reaching for a box of cereal and her bump was obvious.

The next day it was all over the news.

Styles with Baby Five on the Way!

How Many Kids Does Harry Styles Want?

Accident or Planned? YN Styles Pregnant!

Harry Styles Net Worth Just Hit $600 Million - A Baby To Celebrate?

YN stayed out of the media, she wasn’t active on social media or trying to be an influencer - she wasn’t ever interested in that and so in turn, people dubbed YN as mysterious because they did not know much about her.

Harry was arguably one of the most famous athletes on earth but despite that, he was just as private in his personal life.

He was constantly being put on all the major sports networks, he was on television usually three times a week during a game, and then post-games interviews after that.

Harry did interviews on television, in magazines but he always made sure that the main thing he was talking about was his career and not his personal life.

Did he like to throw in how much he loved his wife and kids? Sure but he wasn’t eager to share anymore than that usually.

It will never feel normal to have paparazzi following her and she especially hates it when she has the kids without Harry.

A group of seven or eight photographers decided that it was perfectly acceptable to plant themselves at one of Easton’s baseball games to try to get more pictures of YN’s bump.

Harry was in the city for a photoshoot for Nike but he was going to be on his way to the game if he wasn’t done already.

YN was on edge because she’s trying to watch Easton play but all she can focus on is a group of men with long lenses that are all pointed at her.

Normally the other kids would go play on the playground but YN didn’t trust those men and made them right by her side with the photographers around which made them all a bit miserable and whiny.

It was also embarrassing because YN could tell it made the other families attending the game uncomfortable and they all knew it was because of her.

The biggest concern was when Harry shows up because YN knows that he will absolutely flip when he sees a group of men with cameras pointed towards his pregnant wife and little children.

And she was a hundred percent right.

YN (and honestly the other parents) watches as a tinted, sleek matte black SUV pulls into the parking lot and the vehicle is unmistakably Harry’s, and by the way he slams on the break, throws the car in park, and is getting out of the car with agitation.

He’s a bit far away from where YN is, she can’t hear everything that’s being said but she does see is Harry storming right over the group of men who quickly turn the camera and video recorders on him.

YN quickly gets up, asking one of the mom’s who she is friends with if she can keep an eye on the three for a moment while she makes sure Harry doesn’t do anything he regrets.

When she gets close enough, Harry’s not yelling but his voice is booming and full of threats as he speaks, “Following me is one thing. Follow m’wife and children to their baseball games, are you fucking insane? Do I have to file a restraining order against all fucking seven of you? You don’t want that or you’ll lose out of all your money shots, you fuckin’ leeches.”

“Harry,” YN interrupts as the photographers try to profusely apologize, the last thing they want is Harry to file a restraining order because he makes them the most money.

Harry’s green eyes are fiery, his fist clenched at his sides, and his shoulders tensed as he stares down the paparazzi who are cowering and taking big steps back (they also probably don’t want their cameras broken).

“Get the fuck out here. If you release any pictures of my children,” Harry grits out, trying to maintain his cool, “I will sue you for everything you’re worth. I’m an adult, I chose this. They didn’t. I won’t hesitate to protect them. Do you understand me?”

They all nod with worried expressions.

“I said, do you fucking understand me?” Harry barks out, demanding verbal confirmation which they all give as soon as he shouts at them, he’s giving them one last dirty look before they’re turning and running to their cars.

Harry waits until they’re all peeling out of the parking lot before he’s turning to YN, who’s looking at him with a pursed expression, he pouts at her, “What?”

“Nothing,” YN shrugs as she intertwines their hands to begin their way back to the field where all the other parents are trying desperately not to stare but they are, “You’re just so hot when you’re being a good dad and husband.”

Cue Harry’s sleazy grin, “Yeah? Does that mean I’ll get some tonight, mama?”

“I’ll consider it,” She hums teasingly, smacking his hand when he moves to get a feel of her bum but when he tries again, she lets him get a good handful as a promise of tonight.

“How are the bubs,” Harry asks as his hand moves to her bump, “Can see your bump from a mile away now. It’s making newspapers everywhere. My pretty pregnant wife.”

YN scoffs as she shakes her head, “I don’t know why but I saw my face on a People Magazine in the grocery store yesterday. It said, ‘A Baby To Save The Marriage’, do you have something to tell me?”

Harry snorts out a laugh, “The day they get a story right will be a magical day in history. Those magazines don’t benefit from healthy marriages and happy families.”

“They really don’t benefit from us then,” YN mumurs as Harry leans over to kiss her temple, “They’re doing good. I thought I felt a flutter of movement earlier but it was only once so I don’t know.”

“I can’t wait to feel them. Just feels like yesterday Briar was kicking at you in the middle of the night and it woke me up,” Harry laughs fondly, “Speaking of Briar.”

As soon as they got close enough, Briar was hurriedly running over to her father who scooped her right up, “Missed you, daddy.”

When they got home and all the kids were asleep, Harry made a few calls to his lawyers about what he can do about the paparazzi showing up at the children’s sporting games and how to prevent their pictures from getting blasted all over the internet.

YN was brushing out her damp hair in their bathroom when she felt that same flutter from earlier but it was stronger, she held her breath hoping that it wasn’t her mind playing tricks on her.

The movement continued which made YN hike up her shirt and touch gently at her stomach, there was definitely a baby or maybe both moving around in there, and she was so excited she dropped her hairbrush.

Without a second thought, she’s walking as fast as her pregnant self will let her down the stairs to the office where Harry’s having a tense conversation based on the sharpness in his tone.

“That’s the only thing that can be done?” Harry snapped at someone, his face was contorted into an angry grimace as he sat in his office chair, feet up on the desk, and twirling his wedding band.

When Harry sees YN standing there with wide eyes and an unreadable expression, he rudely says to whoever is on the other line, “I’ll call you back tomorrow,” before hanging up.

“Everything okay, baby?” Harry worries as he stands up and starts walking towards her.

YN nods before shoving up her shirt again, she grabs his hand as soon as he’s close enough, and puts it right on the middle right of her bump where there’s one of the twins rolling around.

YN doesn’t realize that she has tears streaming down her face until Harry wipes them before kissing her nose, “Why are you crying, mama?”

“I didn’t realize how much I missed the feeling,” YN sniffles with a giggle, they were happy tears, and it was her twins telling her that they’re healthy and growing strong - that she’s doing a good job.

“It’s just like a butterfly,” Harry hums as he squats down, kissing over the spot where one of the babies is moving, and YN’s heart melts at the sight, she loved him so much.

month six; week 24

The sex was going to be a surprise to everyone, they decided just like with their other babies that they wanted it to be a mystery up until their birth.

As they lay in bed, Harry is in his usual position now which was with his head resting on her thighs, just below the bump - he was always waiting to feel a kick or flutter.

“How do you feel about the name Posie for a girl?” Harry hums as they both scroll through their phones on a baby name app.

“Do you think we will have a girl? What if we have two girls?” YN hums in disbelief, “I just can’t imagine Briar having sisters. But no, no to Posie.”

“What about Teddy? Could be for a boy or a girl?” Harry brings after a few minutes later as he favorites that name.

“I love it actually,” YN sits up a bit more, the name instantly connecting for her, “I think I like it best for a boy but I love that name.”

Harry looks at her skeptically, “Did we just come up with one of the names that easily? Can it be that simple?”

YN shrugs with a hand affectionately rubbing at her belly as she says the name out loud again, “Teddy. Teddy Styles. It’s perfect.”

Then for the next few weeks it’s not easy.

Harry will text her a few.

H: Annie, Violet, or Daisy?

YN: Nope.

YN: Lily, Vera, or Mia?

H: No.

Then one day YN texts

YN: I think I found the name. Just like Teddy, it could be for a girl or boy.

H: Try me. I think we have vetoed every name in existence.

YN: Scout.

And as Harry sits in the locker room, supposed to be putting on his gear, he’s struck with absolute joy because it fits so well.

H: Scout and Teddy?

YN: Scout and Teddy.

H: I love them.

YN: We named our babies 🥹

H: I love you, mama ❤️

YN isn’t the same person she was when she had Easton - then she was young, afraid to offend, and eager to please.

And when Gemma had come at her for the unplanned pregnancy, YN had let it flip her whole world upside down and make her feel like absolute garbage for quite a while.

Now, YN was different and for the better - she had no problem standing up for herself when it came to her sister-in-law.

They didn’t spend much time together but YN tolerated her.

Ever since the riff about Easton, Harry’s never been close with her again, and YN knows Gemma puts blame on YN for that but YN couldn’t convince Harry to try to make amends because he didn’t want to.

YN had a feeling as she was cleaning up the dining room after a family dinner with Anne, Dave (her boyfriend), and Gemma that there had to be at least one smart remark.

It comes as YN begins loading the dishwasher while Anne and Dave help Harry wrangle the kids outside to make s’mores in the fire pit.

“Thanks,” YN says to Gemma as she brings in the rest of the plates and silverware from dinner, Gemma nods before leaning against the counter and crosses her arms over her chest.

“So twins, that’s so exciting,” Gemma remarks but her voice is flat and doesn’t sound like the thought of having two more nieces/nephews is that exciting to her.

“It is,” YN nods as she focuses on scrubbing a spot on one of the wine glasses, her hormones had been shifty these past few weeks as to be expected with pregnancy and she didn’t like where this was going.

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” Gemma prompts with a casually shrug, trying to come off as nonchalant, “I mean four is a lot already and you guys are still young. Six kids by the time you’re thirty and thirty-one? I mean Harry didn’t get to experience any of his twenties.”

YN, who is normally a pro at containing her rage, well that’s not the case tonight because her hormones have her capacity for bullshit at an all time low, she slams down the wine glass in the sink and looks over at Gemma.

“Harry didn’t get to experience his twenties?” YN scoffs with a dangerous edge to her voice, “He became the richest baseball player in history, is the captain of The New York Yankees, is living every dream he had as a child. He experienced more in his twenties than most people ever do.”

Gemma’s lips turn down, she was testing YN and was definitely surprised by the pushback that she was getting.

She had been expecting that she could bully YN and that wasn’t the case, she wasn’t the scared and pregnant twenty year old anymore. She was a grown woman who was secure in her relationship.

“It’s not like that,” Gemma tries to downplay, picking at her nails, “It’s just he could have done more if he didn’t have so many responsibilities at home. I’m just looking out for my little brother.”

YN shuts off the water with a bit more force than necessary before grabbing a hand towel to dry off, “Gemma, I’m so sorry if it offends you the amount of children we decided to have. However, I have some bad news for you. I couldn’t have conceived these babies without Harry and believe me, he wanted our children more than anything else in the world.”

YN continued on as her voice rose louder, “More than money, more than baseball. I know you don’t understand because you don’t have children but I know he would choose me and our babies over baseball and experiencing his twenties a million times over. I’m sorry if that upsets you.”

Then someone is clearing their throat and both women look to see Harry standing in the doorway to the kitchen with furious expression, arms crossed tight across his chest, and the vein on his neck popping in effort to stay calm.

“Get out.”

And Gemma has the nerve to look at YN with a sickeningly sweet smile, as if Harr was telling YN to get out but she knew better and Gemma was too cocky for her own good, honestly delusional at this point.

“Gemma, get the fuck out of my house,” Harry repeats with a louder tone this time, “I don’t know how many chances I have given you to get your shit together but enough is enough.”

Gemma opens her mouth like she’s about to argue but Harry puts his hand up to stop her from even beginnning.

“I don’t want to hear it. Nothing you ever say or do is helping me,” Harry tells her clearly, “And for the record, YN couldn’t be more accurate. I chose her and I chose all six of my children first. Over anything. You have your own life to live, stop trying to control mine.”

“I am just try-“

“God damn it, don’t make me yell,” Harry sighs as he squeezes the bridge of his nose.

“You always pick YN. You’re supposed to pick your family.”

Harry lets out a laugh, loud and obnoxious enough that it even makes YN jump, “For fucks sake, Gemma. Don’t you see? I will always pick YN. I will always pick my children. They are my family. Not you, a poor excuse of a sister.”

And at first, YN’s heart jumps when she sees Ezra wander right up next to Harry and tug on his shorts, unaware of how absolutely seething Harry is.

“Daddy, Easton was telling a scary story and now m’really anxious. Can you help me do my breathing to calm down?”

And Harry snaps out of it instantly, his death glare towards his sister softens when he kneels down to attend to his son.

“Of course, I can. Patricia will be so happy to hear that you used it. Let’s go somewhere quiet, okay?” Harry murmurs to his son before taking his hand and guiding him out of the room without a glance back.

YN just refolds the dish towel, not interested in continuing the argument , and sure as hell not letting it bother her - she just walks out the back door to be with her children outside, leaving Gemma alone.

That night, as Harry and YN shower the smoke from the campfire off of them, he cradles her bump and holds her stare, firmly telling her once again.

“I will always choose you. I will always choose our children.”

month seven; week twenty eight

YN accompanied Harry to Los Angeles for five days while Anne watched the children back at home - a little babymoon if you will.

However, it was proving a bit difficult to actually do anything they were looking forward to because of how big YN’s bump was getting.

“My thigh is cramping,” YN moans uncomfortably from where she’s lying on her back, Harry holding one of her legs bent near his chest but when he hears her complaint, he pulls out.

“You want to ride me?” Harry asks with little to no other suggestion because the bump was on the way in almost every position.

“You really think that I can lift myself up and down right now?” YN bites out with no real sharpness, she had sweat beading at her temples already and she was only one orgasm in from his mouth.

“I can just use my mouth again?” He suggests as he massages the muscles in her thigh that are twitching, YN felt bad because she could physically see how much he wanted it.

She wanted it too.

“No no, I want to,” YN puffs a stray hair off her forehead before she gets an idea, “Just spoon me from behind.”

Harry helps her lay down on her side before cozying up behind her - his lips teasing at the nape of her neck as he guides himself in, both of them moaning in relief when he begins to pump in and out.

“Yes,” YN mewls in relief as it starts to feel good, Harry moves to get his hand between her thighs to rub at her clit but the bump is in the way, “I can without it,” She assures him breathlessly as he kisses her shoulder and moves up to play with her swollen nipples instead.

“There we go,” Harry groans in pleasure as his forehead drops to her shoulder, she could tell he was trying to keep his pace steady but he was struggling, “God, you always feel so fuckin’ good f’me. No wonder I fuckin’ see you in my dreams, darling.”

It wasn’t the dirtiest thing out of his mouth ever but it was enough to release that band of tension in her lower stomach to make her find her second relief quickly.

As soon as she was taken care of, Harry was picking up the speed of his hips, even though she was sensitive, it still felt good to know that she was making her husband feel just as amazing as she did - she loved feeling his tensing ab muscles against her back, his thighs working right behind hers.

“S’good,” Harry grits out as he starts to finish, “Fuck, you always make me come so hard.”

After Harry pulls out, he grabs a cold washcloth from the bathroom before running it over YN’s overheated body, don’t get her wrong - the sex was phenomenal as always but with two babies only two months away from being born pressing on her insides, it took a lot more out of her.

“Baby,” Harry chuckles as he runs it over her forehead, “You should have told me it was too much. You’re still breathing heavy.”

“It felt so good though, H. Wanted it,” YN whines, wrapping her hand around his wrist and he gets the hint, running the cold over her skin once again.

“Maybe we should just stick to mouth stuff until the babies are born?” He suggests softly before patting her with a dry towel.

YN snorts out a laugh, “Mouth stuff? Are we in high school?”

“Heyy,” Harry huffs as he tries to stop a smile from appearing in his face, “M’just trying to be thoughtful and you’re making fun of me.”

YN pulls him down for another kiss, “I think you’re right though. I feel like I just ran a marathon and all I did was lay there and take it.”

“Yeah but you looked so fuckin’ sexy taking it,” Harry murmurs against her lips, his hand rubbing over her taut skin.

“Don’t need to charm me, already got six babies out of me,” YN jokes which now it’s Harry’s then to snort out a laugh.

“Never going to stop trying to charm you, mama,” Harry assures her as he lays back down next to her and yawns

eight months; 37 weeks

Dr. Riviera had informed them that twins typically didn’t make it past thirty-eight weeks, it wasn’t common, and that twins usually came out weighing a bit less because they had to share space and resources.

Even though the doctor can only predict, she didn’t see why YN would carry to thirty-eight weeks with how well the babies were developing and they didn’t seem to be wanting to move anytime soon.

Anne had been staying with them because she was going to help with the children for a little bit after the twins were born and she wanted to be there to watch them when YN went into labor.

Harry was in the city for a sponsorship meeting with Gatorade when his phone began to buzz in the middle of the meeting.

He didn’t care that he was being rude when everyone in the room was speaking to him but he just gets up out of his seat and leaves the room when he sees that his wife is calling.

“Mama, everything okay?” Harry asks nervously, ignoring the looks he’s getting from the men in suits as he exits the conference room into the empty corridor, making sure his car keys are in his pocket.

“Don’t sound so scared,” YN chuckles softly, sounding completely okay, “I just called to see what you were craving for dinner.”

False alarm.

That same night though, it wasn’t.

Harry and YN went to bed at a decent time after getting all the children down, probably around ten thirty when they drifted off after a long day in the city and with the kids.

It was when Harry woke up around two in the morning when YN shook him a bit, as he blinks his eyes open and turns on the bedside lamp - he realizes the sweat was gathering at YN”s brow and the vein in her forehead was popping.

“Ca-Can you help me get to the bathroom?” She panted, out of breath, “I think I’m going into labor. I need to pee. O-Oh fuck.”

Harry quickly jumps out of bed to help guide her to the bathroom before getting her back into the bedroom, “What do you want to do-“

Just as he asks, YN lets out a low groan and a splash of fluid trickles down her legs and onto the carpet - water breaking right as they speak, “H, they-they’re coming soon. Please, I think we need to go.”

Harry was shaking with nervousness as he loaded up the hospital bag, woke Anne to let her know what was going on, and they were off to have their twins in less than twenty minutes.

Harry was surprised just how quickly her labor was progressing, with the other four, it was a slower, more tedious process of hours and hours of dilation before there was any pushing.

But YN is gritting her teeth, tears streaking her cheeks as she tells Harry, “Please, baby. Drive as fast as you can. I-I need to push. I need to, they’re coming fast. I need to push.”

“Okay, okay,” Harry grips the wheel, he know he can’t drive in a way that could get them in an accident but he really didn’t want his wife to have the babies on the side of the road.

Luckily, the hospital wasn’t more than fifteen minutes away and he calls shakily ahead so that they know to expect them.

As soon as they have an IV hooked up, YN’s changed into a hospital gown, and in a hospital bed - they’re encouraging her to push, no time for an epidural which was proving hard for YN.

“It hurts so fucking bad,” YN cries as she squeezes Harry’s hand with all of her her might, it was moving fast and they hadn’t been in the hospital for more than half and hour and the doctor was telling them he expected the twins to come soon, “It hurts to push.”

Harry has the utmost respect for his wife. He can’t possibly even begin to imagine the tremoundous pain that she’s agreed to put herself through so that they could have more children.

He’s already a sniffling mess when the doctor announces that she’s crowning.

“Mama, they have so much hair,” Harry chuckles as he looks to see, moving to kiss her hand, “You’re so close. I can’t wait to see what we’re having. A boy or a girl. You’re doing so good, baby.”

“One more push,” The nurse encourages and YN is squeezing her eyes shut and groaning as she uses all of her might to give a long, hard push.

Harry’s so distracted by watching YN that he doesn’t even realize that push had been enough for their baby to come out, only realizing that one had been born when a high-pitched cry pierces the room.

“Baby number one is a boy,” The doctor announces before the nurses are working on cleaning off the baby and doing all their routine tests.

“A boy,” YN says breathlessly, blinking tearfully at Harry, “Wa-wait, I need to push again. Will the other one come just as fast?” YN directs the question at the medical staff.

“Typically they come out without minutes of each other,” The nurse smiles as she wipes YN’s forehead with a cold rag.

“Gonna give us our other baby?” Harry murmurs distractedly, he was watching as they put the baby on the scale before rubbing it off with a clean towel to get off the fluid - he was memorized until he was snapped back when YN is howling out another grunt of effort before the second piercing cry of the night echos through the room.

“Baby number two is also a boy,” The doctor calls out before passing off the other baby, “Good job, mom. Really got those babies out fast and with no pain medication, very impressive.”

YN’s exhausted as she tries to catch her breath, “Two boys, H. Two boys.”

Is anyone surprised that Harry is full on sobbing happy tears by the time that the babies are laid on YN’s chest where she cradles them closely, tears streaming down her cheeks as well.

“Two more boys. Five boys and one girl,” YN giggles happily as she leans down to nuzzle her nose against each one of their cheeks as Harry caresses YN’s hair and watches on in awe.

“You did such an amazing job,” Harry sniffles as he leans up to kiss YN’s temple, “I am so proud of you. Look at what you did, mama. Gave us two healthy boys, you did it.”

“Mmm,” YN hums tiredly, chuckling when one starts rooting which Harry helps adjust her gown to help the baby find what it was looking for, “And they’re latching with no issues. This is perfect.”

“You’re so fuckin’ perfect,” Harry says firmly as he can’t get his heartbeat to slow, “And you gave us two more perfect babies.”

“I love them so much already,” YN whispers as she watches the baby eat hungrily with the cutest little coos as they can barely keep their eyes open, “Teddy Reese and Scout Hudson.”

“Our little Teddy and Scout,” Harry repeats in disbelief of his life, of how he couldn’t ask for anything better, “Welcome to the family.”

#mlbrry #mlb!verse #mlb!harry #mlb!harry masterlist #erodasfishtacos masterlist #file

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srvbryn · 3 months

Text

Luke Castellan. Detention

Not set in riordanverse & highschool au!Luke; MASTERLIST

Luke Castellan X f!reader

Summary: "Well, well, look who's joined the detention club" Luke gets detention — He misplaced his history textbook, and what's better than stealing borrowing it from the library?

Warning: teenagers acting like teenagers, not a lot of dialogues, they have houses like the one in Harry Potter lol (only mentioned once) & Reader house is not mentioned, this is a bit boring

The detention room felt confined, with time moving at a snail's pace. Luke sat there, tracing imaginary patterns on the desk, the minutes ticking away like a never-ending countdown.

Just when he thought he was alone with the hum of Mr. D and the ticking of the clock, the door creaked open, and in walked (Name), a smirk on her lips.

"Well, well, look who's joined the detention club," Luke teased.

(Name) rolled her eyes and took the seat next to him. "Figured I'd keep you company. Detention is always more fun with a partner in crime, right?"

Luke couldn't help but chuckle — "Partner in crime, huh? I like the sound of that."

As the minutes passed, the two of them had whispered conversations, exchanged notes, and made light of the situation.

(Name) couldn't resist making fun of Luke's situation.

"So, what's the grand crime that got you in here, Luke?" she asked with a sly grin.

A few hours ago — LUKE CASTELLAN

Luke's risky textbook stealing borrowing scheme involved a well-thought-out strategy that, avoided the school administration's watchful gaze.

He may or may not have misplaced his textbook accidentally.. hahaha

However, this time, it was a classic case of overconfidence that led to his downfall.

Luke decided to carry out his plan during the school assembly, when most teachers were busy with maintaining the wandering student body under control.

Confident that he could slip in and out like a shadow, he ventured into the classroom, only to find himself face-to-face with the one teacher who had decided to stay behind to organize some papers.

As he reached for the textbook, Mr. Chiron looked up from his work and caught Luke in the act. The moment was frozen, and an uneasy silence filled the room.

Luke's grin faded into a sheepish smile as he tried to come up with a plausible excuse.

Mr. Chiron raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Luke Castellan, what exactly are you doing in here during the assembly?"

Luke scratched the back of his head, attempting to feign innocence. "Oh, you know, just wanted to get a head start on some reading. Education waits for no one, right?"

"Nice try, Mr. Castellan. I don't recall giving you permission to access the library during the assembly. Detention it is."

And that's how Luke's textbook borrowing adventure came to an abrupt halt, leading him to the very detention that (Name) chose to join.

Luke leaned in, a gleam in his eyes. "I may have liberally borrowed some textbooks without asking. The school administration didn't appreciate my innovative approach to study materials."

(Name) burst into laughter, earning them a stern look from Mr. D. "Classic Hermes house move. Couldn't just check out a classroom book like the rest of us, huh?"

"Where's the fun in that?" he replied, a playful glint in his eyes. "Besides, I thought it added a touch of rebellion to my academic pursuits."

The two of them continued to jokes, causing the otherwise boring detention surprisingly pleasant.

The more they chatted, the more (Name) realized there was more to Luke than his rebellious exterior.

They even swapped a few sarcastic comments about the school's absurd rules. (No phones allowed, must wear a tie all the time, don't run in the hallways (the usual))

The teacher on duty, Mr. D, sat at his desk, buried in paperwork (surprisingly) unaware.

Luke discreetly crumpled a piece of paper and passed it to (Name) with a glint in his eyes.

They exchanged a knowing look, silently agreeing on their next move. (Name), with a suppressed giggle, aimed the paper at the back of Mr. D's head and let it fly.

The paper landed with a soft thud, catching the teacher's attention. He turned around, narrowing his eyes at the seemingly innocent duo.

"Alright, who did that?" Mr. D demanded, scanning the room.

Luke and (Name) exchanged innocent glances, attempting to suppress their laughter. Mr. Anderson sighed, suspecting he was dealing with a pair of children.

As Mr. D returned to his paperwork, the both of them couldn't resist another attempt at amusement.

This time, Luke folded the paper into an aeroplane. With a quick motion, he launched it at Mr. D, causing it to glide gracefully through the air.

The paper airplane did a loop-de-loop before landing on Mr. D's desk, right in front of him. He looked up, a mix of irritation and bemusement on his face.

"Alright, that's enough. We're in detention, not a paper competition," he scolded, shaking his head.

Luke and (Name) exchanged a glance, barely containing their laughter.

As the final minutes of detention passed, Mr. D kept an eye on them, suspecting that more antics were on the way.

Luke and (Name), however, had already shared enough laughs to make their time in detention enjoyable.

Luke couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment as the clock ticked down to the end of their detention.

He glanced at (Name), a genuine smile playing on his lips. "Same time tomorrow, partner?"

(Name) raised an eyebrow, a smirk forming. "Only if you promise not to get caught every time."

Luke chuckled. "Deal."

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #luke pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo series #charlie bushnell #luke castellan fluff

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grandhotelabyss · 11 months

Note

Advice/hard truths for writers?

The best piece of practical advice I know is a classic from Hemingway (qtd. here):

The most important thing I’ve learned about writing is never write too much at a time… Never pump yourself dry. Leave a little for the next day. The main thing is to know when to stop. Don’t wait till you’ve written yourself out. When you’re still going good and you come to an interesting place and you know what’s going to happen next, that’s the time to stop. Then leave it alone and don’t think about it; let your subconscious mind do the work.

Also, especially if you're young, you should read more than you write. If you're serious about writing, you'll want to write more than you read when you get old; you need, then, to lay the important books as your foundation early. I like this passage from Samuel R. Delany's "Some Advice for the Intermediate and Advanced Creative Writing Student" (collected in both Shorter Views and About Writing):

You need to read Balzac, Stendhal, Flaubert, and Zola; you need to read Austen, Thackeray, the Brontes, Dickens, George Eliot, and Hardy; you need to read Hawthorne, Melville, James, Woolf, Joyce, and Faulkner; you need to read Tolstoy, Dostoyevsky, Turgenev, Goncherov, Gogol, Bely, Khlebnikov, and Flaubert; you need to read Stephen Crane, Mark Twain, Edward Dahlberg, John Steinbeck, Jean Rhys, Glenway Wescott, John O'Hara, James Gould Cozzens, Angus Wilson, Patrick White, Alexander Trocchi, Iris Murdoch, Graham Greene, Evelyn Waugh, Anthony Powell, Vladimir Nabokov; you need to read Nella Larsen, Knut Hamsun, Edwin Demby, Saul Bellow, Lawrence Durrell, John Updike, John Barth, Philip Roth, Coleman Dowell, William Gaddis, William Gass, Marguerite Young, Thomas Pynchon, Paul West, Bertha Harris, Melvin Dixon, Daryll Pinckney, Darryl Ponicsan, and John Keene, Jr.; you need to read Thomas M. Disch, Joanna Russ, Richard Powers, Carroll Maso, Edmund White, Jayne Ann Phillips, Robert Gluck, and Julian Barnes—you need to read them and a whole lot more; you need to read them not so that you will know what they have written about, but so that you can begin to absorb some of the more ambitious models for what the novel can be.

Note: I haven't read every single writer on that list; there are even three I've literally never heard of; I can think of others I'd recommend in place of some he's cited; but still, his general point—that you need to read the major and minor classics—is correct.

The best piece of general advice I know, and not only about writing, comes from Dr. Johnson, The Rambler #63:

The traveller that resolutely follows a rough and winding path, will sooner reach the end of his journey, than he that is always changing his direction, and wastes the hours of day-light in looking for smoother ground and shorter passages.

I've known too many young writers over the years who sabotaged themselves by overthinking and therefore never finishing or sharing their projects; this stems, I assume, from a lack of self-trust or, more grandly, trust in the universe (the Muses, God, etc.). But what professors always tell Ph.D. students about dissertations is also true of novels, stories, poems, plays, comic books, screenplays, etc: There are only two kinds of dissertations—finished and unfinished. Relatedly, this is the age of online—an age when 20th-century institutions are collapsing, and 21st-century ones have not yet been invented. Unless you have serious connections in New York or Iowa, publish your work yourself and don't bother with the gatekeepers.

Other than the above, I find most writing advice useless because over-generalized or else stemming from arbitrary culture-specific or field-specific biases, e.g., Orwell's extremely English and extremely journalistic strictures, not necessarily germane to the non-English or non-journalistic writer. "Don't use adverbs," they always say. Why the hell shouldn't I? It's absurd. "Show, don't tell," they insist. Fine for the aforementioned Orwell and Hemingway, but irrelevant to Edith Wharton and Thomas Mann. Freytag's Pyramid? Spare me. Every new book is a leap in the dark. Your project may be singular; you may need to make your own map as your traverse the unexplored territory.

Hard truths? There's one. I know it's a hard truth because I hesitate even to type it. It will insult our faith in egalitarianism and the rewards of earnest labor. And yet, I suspect the hard truth is this: ineffables like inspiration and genius count for a lot. If they didn't, if application were all it took, then everybody would write works of genius all day long. But even the greatest geniuses usually only got the gift of one or two all-time great work. This doesn't have to be a counsel of despair, though: you can always try to place yourself wherever you think lightning is likeliest to strike. That's what I do, anyway. Good luck!

#creative writing #literature

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familyabolisher · 1 year

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i'm sorry in advance for asking you about what was essentially, a small part of a month old jokey reply to a post. that said, what would you consider the implications of the "this world is enough" quote being said by specifically Joyce Messier to be, along with the ensuing "(...) this is the greatest and kindest arrangement the atoms had in them"... it's just that this is one of my favourite quotes in the game and your post made me realize I had been engaging with it in a rather superficial way.

It’s a very beautifully worded passage, which I think contributes in large part to why people latch onto it so much. Unfortunately, it tends to fall victim to the classic phenomenon whereby lines which are rhetorically effective and on the surface appear to articulate a clear and compelling sentiment find themselves isolated from their broader textual context in fan reception & thus taken at face value. The full passage is:

JOYCE MESSIER - "Great bodies of water, forest-covered surfaces... clusters of light where the cities lie. You've seen the montage, we all have -- this world is enough," she concludes.

CONCEPTUALIZATION - It *must* be. This is the greatest and kindest arrangement the atoms had in them.

Stripped of its political teeth, I imagine the idea of a world composed of the ‘greatest and kindest’ arrangement of atoms is somewhat comforting, as a poetic expression of a sentiment of hope and optimism for the world around you and for yourself in turn. However, it just can’t be easily cleaved away from the fact that Disco Elysium is an overtly and unsubtly political game; it’s a game about communism, and it’s a game which thinks about communism in such a way that the sentiment given here is undercut at just about every turn.

We see that this idea of a ‘greatest and kindest arrangement’ is coming in response to Joyce’s statement that ‘this world is enough.’ Joyce, in-game, is an ultraliberal strikebreaker invested with a huge amount of power relative to capitalist hegemony; put simply, she is not someone whose political voice is one with which the narrative aligns. To think about the present condition of the world as ‘enough’—and to respond, as does Harry’s Conceptualisation, with the suggestion that anything else would be less great and less kind than they are at present (such that all failings of greatness and kindness in the present state can be countered with the superlative)—is a sentiment coming from someone for whom the continuation of the capitalist social condition is hugely beneficial. Put simply, Disco Elysium, read holistically, is just not a game which believes that the capitalist social condition is ‘enough,’ and nor that it is the ‘greatest and kindest arrangement.’

Like—the game takes great pains to suggest that capitulating to the inevitability of the present condition only reveals the limitations of one’s framework. Time and time again, the game makes appeals to inevitability—of the fall of the commune, of the expansion of the pale and the consumption of Elysium—only to suggest that it is only by imagining a total rearrangement of the atoms, if you will, that we can prevent it. I wrote in more detail about this reading here if you’re interested, but the long and short of it is: the presence of the anomaly in the Dolorian church guides us as players towards the idea that the entropy of the pale is a construction of Dolorian moralism, which is to say, capitalist hegemony; the fact that infra-materialism, a theory of Mazovian socio-economics, suggests at the defiance of traditional laws of physics in a manner that may at first seem absurd but by the end of the communist plotline is proven possible in the fact that the tower is able to stand up on its own is in turn a suggestion that the pale’s entropy, too, is a ‘fact’ only inasmuch as it exists within the boundaries of what hegemony has termed factual. If the tower can stand, why can’t the world be overhauled at such a fundamental level that the expansion of the pale could be stopped and the Moralintern could be evaporated? This is the sentiment of the communist quest; rather than accepting the present condition of things (the “greatest and kindest” such that nothing else could possibly be better—it is worth remembering that greatest and kindest does not necessarily mean great or kind), the very belief that they could be changed is what allows change to take place. This is the sentiment communicated in Steban’s “In dark times, should the stars also go out?”.

My comment on the original post was just me being slightly glib about the fact that people consistently latch onto that line out of context. It’s a good line—it’s prettily expressed, and it’s certainly helpful for articulating the different political conditions at play in the game. However, I’m not convinced people are engaging with it in a way that fairly accounts for what it does relative to the rest of the text. This tendency to latch onto poetic language at the expense of thinking seriously about what the sentiment in question actually communicates reminds me of what Evrart says of Joyce:

You - "But she told me a beautiful story about the discovery of the Insulinde."

Evrart Claire - "Of course she did. Rich people have the best stories. About all the interesting things they've done and seen, all the beautiful places they've been to. It's just sentimentalism. She can afford to be sentimental -- and she can afford to lose as well."

I wouldn’t reify Evrart as the voice of the working class in Disco Elysium either, but I think this particular line cuts to the quick about how Joyce’s elevated, obscurantist language often makes it difficult for players to situate what she says within the context from which she appears to us.

#ask #disco elysium

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pftones3482 · 4 months

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"Ummm they toned down the abuse from Gabe in Percy Jackson because it's a kids show, stop being mad about it"

Ignoring the fact that it's also a children's book, let's take a look at some children's media in the last couple decades that depict parental abuse towards children that isn't physical, but still makes the abuse feel real:

1. Harry Potter. I'm loathe to even put it on here bc of how much I hate JKR, but HP DOES depict child abuse in probably one of the best ways of any modern media. As far as I can remember (correct me if I'm wrong), the Dursley's never lay a hand on Harry. But it is never even questioned if they're awful people towards Harry - they literally make him sleep in a closet.

2. Matilda. Like do I even need to explain this one? Abuse from not only her whole family (again, NONE of it physical from what I recall), but also from other authority figures. And she's not the only character who deals with parental abuse - Miss Honey is a grown adult shown to be dealing with the negative effects of an abusive parental figure.

3. Phineas and Ferb. Laugh all you want, but Doofenshmirtz's parents were genuinely awful to him. His stories are just tamed down in a way that's palpable to a much younger audience while still also being clear abuse - a young child can chuckle at his stories but STILL understand why maybe some of his stories would turn him evil.

4. Avatar the Last Airbender. Zuko's father physically disables his own son. Not to mention the constant emotional neglect and manipulation on top of it, the writers never held back on how bad his father was. Even if he hadn't scarred Zuko, he would still be a clear depiction of an abusive parent.

5. The Willoughbys. The parents are so awful that the kids literally plot to murder them. The parents abandoned them to freeze to death on top of a mountain. Enough said.

6. Percy fucking Jackson.

Percy Jackson IS a book made for kids that depicts child abuse from a parent - and not only does it depict child abuse, it depicts spousal abuse.

I know Percy doesn't know that Gabe is physically hurting Sally in the beginning of the book. But we as the audience know that Gabe DOES hurt Percy. There is not a single sign in the new show that Percy has anything more than a snarky, annoyed view of Gabe.

Gabe is supposed to be smelly and disgusting, a drunk (which, even if they can't depict that in a Disney show, you can still play around with his grossness), a slob, and a gambler. He's barely even greasy in the show. Literally they could have just had him belch a few times or eat messily and it would have given off a better impression of his character. Instead, he just quips back and forth with Percy and then later is just...whining. He's whiney. He does not ring as a man who abuses his family, emotionally OR physically, he rings as a pathetic step-dad figure who can't support himself (which is ALSO not canon, because in the book he runs an auto store! His abuse towards Sally is not for lack of money, it's just because he's a dick!!!) The fact that I think that Doof's parents in Phineas and Ferb are more overtly abusive than him on screen is actually absurd.

And Sally fell flat. Her character in the book doesn't yell literally ever - not once in the whole series can I recall her legitimately yelling at someone. Her persona is kind and gentle in the books and as for wits, she's clever, and sneaky, and cunning. She fights back with Gabe in ways that we as the audience can see, but Gabe misses because he's so dense.

Take the bean dip scene.

In the show, she basically is like "Yeah yeah I'll make the bean dip, shut up" and Gabe just whines about the sour cream while they yell at each other.

In the book? That's her bargaining chip to take the car for the weekend. That's her ticket out of the house. Bribery. Not just placating a whining husband - she bribes him in the books.

And her yelling back? Just feels so unnatural to Sally Jackson as a whole. I saw someone say she feels like Disney girl-bossed her, and they're right. She doesn't feel like Sally Jackson. She feels like just another cut and paste Disney woman who's snappy and doesn't take shit.

And to be clear - the OG Sally Jackson also didn't take shit. She was just so much more clever about it, in a way that made sure Percy never saw her actively yell. She doesn't have to be snarky and rude to get her way. Percy knows she's fighting back without physically fighting, and that's what makes her so strong. Sometimes you have to fight more with your wits and cleverness than you do with screaming and fists

(Gee...wonder what other character Percy ends up really admiring that also holds that philosophy in life?)

Anyway...all that said, stop blaming the fact that it's a children's show on Gabe's watered down personality. Children's shows/movies and family shows/movies have been depicting serious parental abuse and neglect for decades, in both realistic and more humorous ways that don't take away from the neglect. Kids can handle it, because there are kids going through it.

To say that "It's a kids show, kids shouldn't have to see that," is a disservice to the kids who need to see that, so they know that they can get away too, and they don't have to get physical to do it.

Also, this version of Gabe? Doesn't deserve to die. He's just annoying, not an asshole that scares Percy more than literal monsters do.

#pjo #percy jackson #pjo series #gabe ugliano #sally jackson #disney #yo ho yo ho a pirate's life for me

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linisiane · 7 months

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The Self-Aware Player of Harry Du Bois

It's fascinating to me to think about how satire is used as the 'touch grass' or 'be fucking for real' genre. Oftentimes it's making fun of tropes/conventions by humorously contrasting them with reality, which is exactly what Disco Elysium is doing with the RPG!

It goes hand in hand with the idea of RPGs as escapist power fantasy. RPGs are often thought of as the ultimate self-insert fantasy by its detractors or worst players, ahem looking at all those DND horror stories about entitled mangsty murderhobos.

One of the most infamous criticisms of Disco Elysium is its lackluster combat.

ID A screenshot of a random forum discussion post by dungeon master Zed Duke of Banville. It reads: "Disco Elysium has neither combat nor exploration, and therefore is missing two of the three fundamental components (or sets of components) that define the RPG genre." End ID

The game has essentially bordered off your ability to make Harry into a power fantasy murderhobo because you just are physically unable to equip an longsword or cuisse to murder your average citizen on the street of Martinaise.

But even on a less mangsty level, it subverts a lot of the basic expectations of RPGs.

Like the encounter with the racist lorry driver! You never get the ability or quest to change his mind, you only choose how you react to him.

Where other RPGs might let you act as the white savior or the white knight of chivalric romance, no questions asked, you're changing the minds of everybody who's wrong so we can all get along, Disco Elysium really makes you confront your ability to whiteknight, makes you confront if whiteknighting is even helpful, and why you wanted to whiteknight in the first place.

It’s part of the fun/humor experience of Disco Elysium that you at first expect to solve the world’s problems with a couple quests and lines of ‘good’ dialogue and then get socked in the faced with the fact that yeah, you can’t do much, you’re one person, what did you expect, asshole? Cuno doesn't fucking care!

By subverting our RPG expectations, it forces us to become more aware that these expectations even exist and how they fall short of reality. Yet, despite this subversion, the world of Disco Elysium feels so much realer to us.

ID a screenshot of Disco Elysium dialogue YOU - "Don't call it a dump, you've made it nice and cosy here." NOVELTY DICEMAKER - "Yeah." She stares out of the window, not really hearing your words. "Or maybe it's the entire world that's cursed? It's such a precarious place. Nothing ever works out the way you wanted." "That's why people like role-playing games. You can be whoever you want to be. You can try again. Still, there's something inherently violent even about dice rolls." "It's like every time you cast a die, something disappears. Some alternative ending, or an entirely different world...." She picks up a pair of dice from the table and examines them under the light. End ID

Like, Neha is highlighting this little meta element of how you can stack your Harry in any RPG to pursue a certain ending or situation, but the actual outcome is still influenced by a dice roll out of your control.

A lot of the satirical humor in Disco Elysium comes from the absurdity that you can do everything right or everything wrong, and the dice can still fuck it up or save it for you—not just for things like high-fantasy attacks, but mundane things like remembering your name.

The dice are, at their core, about how RPGs aren't just for the control fantasy, of winning high-fantasy battles, but also can represent life as it is, mundane and uncontrollable.

Similarly, Harry is clearly written—complete with all the 'lore' that this would entail—to couch his RPG protagonist nature in the real.

If RPG characters are blank slates? Let's give ours amnesia! Need fast travel?! Kim teases the 41st Precinct for constantly running everywhere by calling it the Jamrock Shuffle. He needs to have deep and intimate conversations with everyone, even when they're strangers? Yeah, that's so weird we gave him the name 'Human Can-Opener,' and everybody remarks on his uncanny manipulation skills.

It's commenting on difference between controlling an RPG avatar and navigating in a human body.

As Kurvits said: “In reality we do not have control, or complete control, of our minds. Just like our body, it is something that we give-not even commands wishes to, and we hope it's gonna do it. We hope it's not gonna break down, we hope it's not gonna rebel against us.”

In one type of RPG fantasy, we don't even question our total control and even assume the joy is from the control.

But in Disco Elysium, we lack control and find joy in it anyway. That is the fun of the game making us, the players, 'self-aware' about its RPG elements, and it especially resonates with anybody not able-bodied, anybody neurodivergent.

#disco elysium #metas #My thoughts #harry du bois #harrier du bois #human can-opener #jamrock shuffle #yeah so im reposting my meta because i worked really hard but i feel like it was too long for anybody to appreciate :')

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even-disco-baby · 1 year

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ESPIRIT DE CORPS — The lieutenant is aware that you adore him. Painfully so. You aren’t exactly subtle about it.

Oh god. I’m not? Oh fuck.

Good! I wasn’t trying to be *subtle* about it.

Hey. No need to get personal.

ESPIRIT DE CORPS — Sorry, boss. His thoughts, not mine.

In any case, he is aware. Your adoration is plain for all to see, even for such an island of a man as the lieutenant is. Or once was, perhaps. And his own feelings toward you are… difficult to describe, but they are there.

EMPATHY — Strong feelings.

ESPIRIT DE CORPS — He doesn’t know if they can be called love, but it is a thought that has occurred to him. In a broad sense, they surely are love of *some* kind, at the very least. You are his friend. He cares for you. And…

HALF LIGHT — And he is afraid of you.

EMPATHY — And he is afraid *for* you.

ESPIRIT DE CORPS — And he is afraid for himself.

YOU — Afraid? Why?

INLAND EMPIRE — You know why. Do not fool yourself. You, with the scaffold of you all awry. There is no part of you that offers him sure footing.

ENDURANCE — Even your body… One way or another, he knows that he’ll probably be the one to find you dead, and it could come any day.

I hope it’s soon.

I wouldn’t want it to be anyone else.

No! I don’t want to do that to him…

Wait a second! Who said anything about dying?! I’m turning over a new leaf! I want to live!

PAIN THRESHOLD — Oh, Harry… You still don’t understand, do you? You’re already dying. You’re a miracle, really. You know you nearly had a fatal heart attack just from stubbing your toe in the dark this morning? It’s no longer a matter of if, but when.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY — Hey, you’ve always known that you were gonna be here for a good time, not a long time! The lieutenant ought to take a page out of your book, instead of being such a miserable, lonely old man.

RHETORIC — No offense, but I don’t think that the partying has made you any less miserable, lonely, or old.

KIM KITSURAGI — Your partner takes another long drag of his cigarette, letting the smoke fill his lungs. He holds it there for a moment, then slowly breathes it out into the night.

ESPIRIT DE CORPS — He accepted a long time ago that this ritual may very well be the death of him, too. It’s a risk that he has made far more calculated by his rigid discipline. He would find it difficult to live without these small indulgences, but nearly impossible if he granted them too much power over himself.

And so it is with *you.* He can indulge himself with questions, imaginings. What it would be like to lower his spines and be a softer kind of animal. But he cannot give these feelings any more power over him than this, or it will be the death of him.

YOU — …Am I really so bad that I would kill him?

ESPIRIT DE CORPS — No. Worse than that, you would *change* him. You or anyone. To entertain the notion of true love as anything more than a pleasant, unattainable dream would be the death of the man that he has built himself into over the decades. He would become something so much smaller and more vulnerable. An animal with a soft belly exposed to the world.

YOU — Is that really anything to be afraid of?

HALF LIGHT — It is the only thing that there is to be afraid of.

INLAND EMPIRE — He is right to be afraid. The world is nothing but a series of patterns, so easily disrupted and changed and lost forever. There is no sense in any of it, no grand reason that makes any of it worth the terror and the pain. The world will swallow you both and then be swallowed whole. Après le monde, le gris. Après le gris… rien. There is nothing that either of you could offer the other to change this. In the face of it, your small bodies and your fleeting thoughts become so unbearably absurd.

VOLITION — No. It is bearable.

YOU — It is?

VOLITION — It is the only thing that there is to bear.

#disco elysium #harry du bois #kim kitsuragi #harrykim #kimharry #suicide tw #thinking. so many thoughts rn #this was gonna be longer but #then i remembered the point of this blog was just to dump excerpts that i didn't want to bother writing context around. LOL #anyway. yeah. it is too late for us but we are still here nonetheless #and what if not love is worth being here for #even if it's scary to love anything in the face of [gestures broadly]

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theonceandfuturequeenoftarts · 2 days

Text

When Harry feels his temperature start to rise and the world starts to go a little fuzzy around the edges, he packs up his nesting materials, some clean clothing, and a few books at Hermione’s insistence, lets his friends know to tell Pomfrey, and goes to get a few snacks from the house elves before holing up in the Head Boy’s room. Luckily Tom is there, not having any classes this morning, so after a quick message is sent to confirm he’ll be unable to attend for a few days and a quick change into comfortable clothes, they’re ready.

Theoretically.

“So, uh. What do we do now?”

Tom gives him a look. “Why are you asking me? You’re the omega, this is your heat.”

“We’ve established I am bad at being an omega,” Harry says.

“Well, what is your body telling you to do?” Tom says, mildly exasperated.

“Erm… Nothing particular, at the moment. But I don’t think the heat has fully started. If it has, I don’t know what other omegas are talking about.”

“You do realise you’re currently piling blankets and my clothing on the bed.”

He is. “Fucking hell.” His nesting urge is out of control. “Well, I guess this is what we’re doing.”

“Do you want me to help?”

“Uh, do you have any other pillows?” Harry asks absently, arranging the blankets and the majority of Tom’s wardrobe according to some unwritten organisational plan. He knows when it feels right, though.

“Harry. We’re wizards,” Tom says. “I may not have more pillows, but I can make them.”

“Then make me three big, fluffy ones.”

Tom does. The pillows are perfect – exactly what he wants. A part of Harry that he’d rather not acknowledge crows about how well he’s chosen his mate.

Once he places the pillows where they’re meant to be, Harry feels a warm satisfaction deep in his bones. He climbs into the nest without conscious thought and rolls around to make everything smell a bit more like him. After that, he goes almost limp with bliss.

Okay, this is a part of being an omega he can get behind. This is awesome.

—

Harry is – dare he say it – cute, sitting half swallowed-up by the heap of fabric and pillows.

“Do you like my nest?” Harry asks him, looking dreamy and somehow shy.

Tom fights the urge to laugh at him. “Yes, Harry, it’s a very good nest.”

And at that remark, Harry’s eyes slip closed and a rumbling sound starts up from his chest. Oh. Oh. He’s purring.

When Tom had read that extremely content omegas might purr, he’d thought it sounded absurd. Now, as he feels his cheeks grow pink, he understands why people try so hard to achieve this. It’s like something he hadn’t realised was tight and knotted in his chest unwinds, and he’s sure his face is doing something foolish, but he can’t bring himself to care right now.

“Come here?” Harry asks, cheeks flushed and pupils visibly blown even through his barely open eyelids.

“Yes,” Tom says.

He joins Harry on his bed, careful not to disturb the nest’s arrangement lest he be kicked out. As soon as he starts to sit down, Harry begins pulling and prodding him into place. He almost slaps the other boy’s hands away, but Harry must have him situated where he wants, because he stops poking at Tom and looks very pleased with himself.

And then Harry drapes himself over Tom and sticks his face against Tom’s throat, where he knows his scent is strongest.

If Harry was purring before, Tom’s not sure what this is. It feels like the whole bed is vibrating. Tom feels almost drunk. Surrounded by his clothes and his magic, and with Harry against him, fever-hot, purring up a storm and emitting happy heat pheromones, Tom feels warm and relaxed and it’s wonderful.

(thrown into the nest)

#ace abo #nontraditional alpha/beta/omega dynamics #harry potter #tom riddle #tomarry #same age au #fluffy and silly #cuddling & snuggling

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sitp-recs · 9 months

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15 fics with Harry pursuing unusual careers

I love the adrenaline and potential angst within the Auror partners trope as much as the next guy, but we can all agree that our mental health improves 10 times when we see Harry leaving the Ministry, embracing other possibilities and making his own destiny. This rec list hopes to celebrate those creative, disruptive, feel-good fics that are not afraid to come up with the most absurd positions and original job titles. They can be fun, smutty, depressing, hopeful or cathartic; there’s a little bit of everything in here and I’m hoping to bring some hidden gems into everyone’s radar, too. Happy readings!

Twisted Wizards by Enchanted_Jae (T, 3k)

Draco is just putting his life back together when Potter comes along and mucks it all up again. Job: storm chaser

The R. Correspondence by noeon (T, 7.5k)

While working on the Bagshot papers, Draco makes an important discovery for British Wizarding History. Now if only Harry can keep him alive long enough to enjoy it. Job: private security consultant

Per my last letter (I hope you choke on it) by @fluxweeed and @lastontheboat (T, 10k)

Or: the one where Harry has writer’s block and Malfoy isn’t helping. Job: writer

Home County, orphaned (G, 10k)

Harry is an architect and the reluctant part-owner of his own firm. Malfoy works at The Ministry but doesn’t actually have a proper job title even though what he does sounds as though it’s pretty important. Job: architect

A Working Title by mindabbles (E, 12k)

Another in the long line of absurd biographies finally drives Harry to a desperate act. How desperate he doesn't know until his ghost writer shows up at his door. Job: Daily Prophet columnist

An Improbable Bout of Summer Madness by acari (E, 16k)

Draco had planned a quiet, peaceful summer holiday with his son. The last thing he expected was to find Potter here, in Draco's little Cornish retreat. Making fudge in a shop? The idea was too ludicrous for words. Job: fudge shop owner

The Strongest Affinity by @eidheann (T, 17k)

Trouble finding a wand for Scorpius leads Harry and Draco to something they never imagined. Job: wandmaker

Phoenix Repair Services by carpemermaid (E, 20k)

Draco hires a suspiciously private wizarding handyman to fix his kitchen when he returns home to find it destroyed. He expects a middle-aged wizard with greying hair and a pudgy gut to show up. Instead, he gets Harry Potter—with a utility belt and a charming smile—who is more attractive than he has any right to be. Job: Handyman

The Snitch-Maker by Omi_Ohmy (T, 21k)

Draco is content with his Snitches, with the tap tap tap of his hammer, and the tiny gears and sharp scent of metal in his workshop - until one day Harry Potter appears, asking for help to solve a rash of Snitch-tampering in the Quidditch world. Job: QUABBLE official (Quidditch representative)

Silhouettes in Sunsets by Pie (T, 22k)

Draco Malfoy was a Gringotts accountant by day and a luthier by night, making musical instruments that sang the language of the player’s heart, language audible only to the ears of his soul mate. Harry Potter was a struggling quill pal to the children of war and the owner of Hedwig’s Owl Emporium on Diagon—haven for future pets, owls retired from services and orphaned chicks. Job: Owl Emporium owner

Better To Burn Than To Fade Away by Ren (E, 23k)

Harry Potter is a legend in the world of broomstick racing. He's won almost every cup, trophy, and bowl – except for the historical London-Nome which has been on hiatus for the past several years. Now the London-Nome is starting again, and Harry will do anything to pull off one last big win. Job: broomstick racer

Doing the Lambeth Walk by @blamebrampton (T, 26k)

There are only three traditional choices for the cashed-up hero after victory. Harry Potter is too young to settle down and provide the wizarding world with a happy ending, and has too acute a sense of humour to spiral downwards into a spectacular flame-out. That leaves a life of good works. Job: Owner of a Social Housing and Care Centre

All Roads by @korlaena (M, 36k)

Draco hates his job at the Prophet. He hates it even more when he’s assigned to write an article on Harry Potter, who left the country three years ago after their falling out. Draco doesn’t want to face the truth about himself, but he’s stuck between Harry and his duty, and he’s out of options. Job: Magizoologist

Whimsical by strawberryrose (T, 42k)

In which Draco is completely out of his depth (until he isn’t), Harry builds something improbable with the help of his friends, and everyone bonds over food. Job: amusement park owner

What Shall Not Be Unearthed by @iero0 (E, 49k)

At the northernmost point of Shetland, surrounded by pointed cliffs, towers the Ootsta Lighthouse on a small isle in the middle of the open sea. Little does Harry know that he's not the only new lighthouse keeper. Draco Malfoy is as obnoxious as he always was, with his posh tone of voice and his luxury yacht jumpers. Job: lighthouse keeper

#Sitp recs #Drarry reclist #HBD Harry week #odd jobs

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magicalbats · 2 days

Text

Situational Awareness (Dan Heng x reader)

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 10,928

Warnings: afab!reader, some gendered language, shower sex, intercrural sex, thigh fucking

A/N: I've been working here and there on a few different projects (including my long overdue Kinktober pieces, worry not!) but in terms of standalone fics I figured this one was done so I may as well post it. Am I doing so at six in the morning when no one is awake to see it? Absolutely. lol I'm not a plumber so please don't come at me about the shoddy pipe excuse btw, haha

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The unmistakable evidence of all your fooling around is laying across the floor in the form of hastily dropped, rumpled towels. They’d hit the ground in a disarranged heap after the fall, but were still clean as far as you could tell. Not that you could really ask for more on the off chance that they weren’t considering the fright you’d just given the staff but …

Hanging your head, you make the conscious effort to draw a deep, calming breath and come down from the strange high you’d slipped into. You were sweating rather profusely, you’re a bit surprised to find. What had gotten into you? Hotel devils? Surely that was about as absurd as someone climbing into an oddly inviting but no less strange closet as if they’d been personally summoned into its dark depths by some higher force, and yet that was exactly what you’d done. There must have been something seriously wrong with you.

Perhaps it was the Stellaron inside your body causing problems with the electrical signals in its flesh and blood prison. Or maybe you’d hit your head somewhere along the way and the side effects were only now starting to manifest themselves. Your bet was on the tail end of that showdown with the Doomsday Beast back on the space station.

Either way, you desperately needed to get it together.

Straightening up, you send a wary look at the closet in question. Its doors were still thrust open from where you’d leaped out of its (frustratingly inviting) maw some moments ago and there was no denying the faint tug of invitation you could feel trying to coax you back inside but you refused to heed its call. This wasn’t the time or even really the place. You’d let it get the better of you once and that was already more than enough.

“Relax.” You remind yourself as you inch closer to the closet. Resolutely, you reach out and shut the doors. The compulsion slowly fades to nothing and you’re once again left to your own devices. It comes as a great relief.

A harried sigh escapes you as you bend to retrieve the fallen towels next. Perhaps you should leave a note of apology out for the staff. Who knows what they were saying about you right now, the strange girl who likes to hide in closets and scare the living daylights out of unsuspecting workers. On second thought, though, maybe you should just pretend like nothing at all had even transpired here today. Admitting to your own strange behavior in writing would rob you of any plausible deniability, wouldn’t it?

Turning that over in your head, you carry the small bundle of towels into the attached bathroom. Set them down on the sink and almost walk right back out before realizing that you should probably take a shower before bed. Not only were you covered in a fine sheen of perspiration from your time spent getting all worked up inside the closet but you were also freezing. You hadn’t noticed it when you were still running hot on adrenaline and nerves, but now you were gradually starting to shiver.

Just how long had you been crouched inside the cramped dark like that? You really had no idea, as if that part of your memory were an empty cavernous void. It could have been only a few short minutes for all you could tell, or it could have been an eternity. It was impossible to say.

Pivoting, you reach over the tub and wrench the faucet on. The modestly sized room is instantly consumed by the sound of running water as you step back to shrug out of your jacket and take off your gloves. A moment later you test the temperature with your fingers only to snatch them back with a hiss when you find it still ice cold. That certainly wasn’t going to do.

In total you spend about twenty minutes fiddling with the steel knobs, trying them in this and then that position to no avail. No matter what you did the water never seemed to get any warmer, finally leaving you with no choice but to simply turn the damn thing off. You almost give up right then and there. In fact, you consider it very, very hard.

But what ultimately stops you from crawling into bed with nary another thought to the matter is the shuddering chill that’s fallen over you without any of the fast pumping excitement to keep it at bay. You weren’t just cold in the way curling up with a thick blanket could help with. It felt like you were right on the verge of slipping into hypothermia. The thought of laying awake all night shivering nonstop did not sound like the best start to this Trailblaze expedition so you decide to try your luck next door with March.

She opens up on the third knock, wearing her blue bunny pj’s.

“What are you doing out here at this time of night? I thought you were room service or something!”

“Sorry.” You offer her a weak smile, fighting to stop your teeth from loudly clattering. “I think there’s something wrong with the tub in my room. All I can get to come out is cold water.”

March’s brows take an expeditious trip up to her hairline. “No way, you’re having problems too? I thought it was just me but I didn’t want to be a negative Nelly about it!”

Her arm lashes out like a striking serpent, grabbing you by the wrist and dragging you inside.

The door bangs shut with a certain amount of indignation as she turns to look at you, worry flashing across her expression when she takes in the faint shudder making your shoulders bunch up. Standing this close to her, you can see that her hair is damp.

“Were you able to take a shower?”

“Not a very good one! The hot water only lasted for about fifteen minutes before it started to come out freezing cold!” Huffing, she crosses her arms over her chest. “This place sure does look fancy but I’m so not impressed. What kind of operation do they think they’re running here, huh? Belobog is way too cold for them not to have working hot water tanks!”

You consider that for a brief moment. “Maybe that’s the problem? If a bunch of people are trying to bathe at the same time and using up all the hot water - -“

“Then they should’ve thought of that before they opened up a hotel! I mean, come on. That’s just common sense, right? And more importantly what’s up with you? You’ve been shivering non stop since I opened the door.”

Don’t tell her about the closet. Don’t tell her about your exploits inside the closet. Whatever you do, do not tell her about that damned closet.

“I think the chill is just starting to catch up with me.” You tell her, cool as … erm, ice. “I didn’t notice it too much at first but now I can’t stop shaking. I’d really like to take a hot shower.”

“I bet.” She murmurs. Then, with more enthusiasm, “Come on, let’s see if mine wants to work!”

Taking your hand in hers, March guides you over to her attached bathroom where she flips on the overhead lights. You’re impressed to find it’s an almost identical copy of yours, just mirrored. Actually, they looked like they were directly adjacent to one another and situated along the same wall. But would that in turn mean … they were sharing the same series of pipes? No, that couldn’t be. Such an obvious structural design flaw would have surely raised some questions, wouldn’t it?

Your attention thoughtfully drifts towards March as she bends over the side of the tub and smacks the faucet on. A familiar sense of deja vu comes over you when the gurgling sound of running water rushes in to dominate the air but she doesn’t seem to pay it much mind so neither do you. A few seconds pass before she tests the water, clicks her tongue in annoyance and draws her hand back before trying again just another few seconds later. Truthfully March’s impatience had never been quite so glaring as it is right now.

“Well, isn’t that just ridiculous!” She at last scoffs, evidently deeming the whole endeavor futile and turning the faucet off again. “It wouldn’t be such a big deal if this place wasn’t so cold. How is anyone coming in off the street supposed to get a good night’s rest if they can’t even have a warm shower?”

You ponder that question with the same weight and consideration as the last one she’d posed. “Maybe they don’t get many visitors? Just think about it. How many times have we heard now that Belobog is the ‘last bastion of humanity’? They probably don’t get much in the way of tourism.”

Turning, March pins you with an exceedingly strange look. “I don’t think you’re wrong about that but … wouldn’t that mean they’re mostly just keeping this place running for the sake of it? What a waste of resources.” She gives her head a quick shake. “Wait, that’s not important right now. We need to get you warmed up and safely tucked into bed! Do you want me to go down to the lobby with you to check what’s going on?”

“No, that’s okay.” You quickly wave that off, feeling more than just a little self conscious about causing her any trouble. “It’s already getting late and you need your rest for tomorrow. It wouldn’t make sense to waste so much time helping me with this when you could be sleeping instead.”

“Hey, now. The same goes for all three of us. We’re in this together and you’d better not forget that! I don’t mind lending a hand. We are crewmates after all!

“Thank you, really. But I’m sure I can figure something else out.”

“Fine, if you’re sure … but at least stop by Dan Heng’s room and see if he’s in the same boat as us. If not, maybe he’ll let you use his shower tonight?”

“Oh. That’s a good idea.” Consideringly, you start to turn and March follows hot on your heels as you step back out through the doorway. “He went into the room right across from yours, right? Since they’re on opposite sides, maybe I will have better luck.”

“That’s the spirit! See, you just gotta’ keep your spirits high and everything will work out fine in the end. Isn’t that what they call trusting the process?”

Pausing in front of the door, you pivot to look back at her. “I don’t think that particular saying applies here.”

“Oh, whatever. Just go check in with Dan Heng and if he isn’t having any better luck come grab me again, okay? We’ll go down and talk to the receptionist together if we have to!”

You smile, even though you try very hard not to. “Thanks, March. I really appreciate it.”

Her voice follows after you as you open the door to see yourself out, a cheerful parting of ‘good luck!’ following you out into the hall. Of all the warm welcomes you’d been greeted with upon boarding the Express, hers was easily the warmest of them all. You weren’t sure if you’d ever be able to properly repay her for that but you were certainly going to try.

Out in the long carpeted corridor, you take a measly three steps to cross over to the opposite side and rap at the heavy wooden door. Dan Heng surprises you slightly when he opens up at the very first knock, almost like he’d been waiting just within.

“Is something the matter?”

The stark difference in your two companions' greetings makes something warm flicker to life inside your chest. You’d only known them and the rest of the Astral Express crew for a short while now but it was very much in line with what was quickly becoming comforting and familiar to you. March had been proactive and eager to know what you were doing while Dan Heng seemed to have concluded that something must be wrong if you were coming to his room like this. It was oddly reassuring, in a way.

“This is probably going to sound like a strange question but have you taken a shower yet?”

A vague look of confusion flashes across his face and then camps there. He was far from the most animated character you’d met on your journey thus far, but there’s no mistaking the look he levels on you now.

“I haven’t quite gotten around to it yet.” He says slowly. “I was just jotting down some observational notes in my phone to input in the database later. Why?”

“I don’t have any proof to back it up but I think March may have taken all my hot water. Our bathrooms are right next to each other.”

Dan Heng’s expression shifts and settles into a perplexed scowl. “Is that why you’re shaking? You’d think a place like this would understand the importance of resource allocation …” Sighing, he steps to the side. “Come in. We can check it together.”

Feeling the pitter patter of hope skip across your ribcage, you step inside with him. He closes the door and turns the lock in place (paranoid or overly cautious?) before leading you over to the bathroom. None of these hotel rooms are particularly big and the two of you are soon crowding around the porcelain tub together.

A steady turn of his wrist has the water gushing out, the same scene playing out for the third time in a row. Except it doesn’t take long at all for steam to start rising up from the faucet this go around and you feel like you could just collapse in relief. He still had hot water. You weren’t going to freeze to death after all.

“There,” He murmurs, straightening to his full height again. “Go ahead and take your shower in here. I’ll be in the other room so just give me a shout if you need anything.”

Dan Heng starts to turn, making your eyes go big and round with surprise. “But what about you? I don’t want to take up all of your hot water.”

“It’s fine. I can just grab one after you're done.”

“No, that won’t work.” You insist, reaching over to smack the faucet back off with a little more force than was strictly necessary. “March said she only had about fifteen minutes before the water started coming out cold. I’m not sure how long ago she took hers but when we checked it was still out of hot water.”

“Hmm,” He appears to hesitate at that, his gaze taking on the thoughtfully introspective look you were starting to recognize as the gears in his head turning. “Could it be that they get so few guests staying here that they just closed off some of the hot water pipes to ensure they don’t keep running? It’s not quite cold enough in the city for them to freeze so I don’t think it would hurt anything …”

“Right?” You lift your brows in emphasis. “If Belobog is the only human settlement on this planet then what’s the point in keeping an entire hotel up and running?”

“That’s a good point and I wondered about it as well. Unless this hotel was at one time meant to …” Humming softly under his breath, Dan Heng gives his head a slow shake. “No, there isn’t any point in speculating on that right now. We don’t have enough information to start making inferences. Figuring out what we’re going to do about the current problem should be our priority.”

A quiet beat passes, loud in the absence of running water.

“We could always shower together.”

Dan Heng’s head doesn’t so much as move even a fraction of an inch but his gaze snaps up at you lightning fast. The sharp intensity in his eyes immediately makes you regret saying it. Were you being weird again, despite the absence of the closet to facilitate or otherwise encourage your odd behavior? Or was it really the Stellaron mixing up the radio signals in your brain? You weren’t sure what you would do if you managed to scare him off the same way you’d sent the hotel staff running and screaming.

“Or,” He intones at length. “We could go down to the reception desk and ask them to look into it for us.”

“March said the same thing.”

“But?”

You breathe out a quick huff through your nose. “But that sounds like it might take a while. We’d have to explain what’s going on, have someone come take a look at it and then they’d try to fix it. We already agreed that we’ll have a busy day tomorrow so I don’t want to cause any trouble for either of you. Not if I can help it. This would be the faster solution, right?”

To his credit, Dan Heng’s expression softens in as much as it ever does. Which admittedly isn’t a whole lot, but it’s enough to be noticeable. “You aren’t causing problems for us. Don’t even give it another thought and, please, don’t ever let March hear you say that. I don’t doubt she’d take it upon herself to personally show you just how untrue that really is. That being said though, I can understand the reasoning. Doing it that way would be quicker.”

“But?” You volley it right back at him.

“There’s not actually a ‘but’ here. If you’re sure about it then I suppose I don’t mind going about it this way either. It would certainly get both of us into bed far quicker than any other alternative.”

You don’t exactly understand the eager thump your heart gives at his acquiescence but you allow yourself to smile up at him when the urge suddenly strikes you full force. “Then it’s settled?”

A curt nod. “Yes, although I do hope you actually know what it is we’ve just agreed to. If you change your mind at any point don’t hesitate to tell me and I’ll get right out.”

“Don’t be silly.” You assure him, reaching for the hem of your loose fitted shirt. “I'd never kick you out like that, Dan Heng. Both of us deserve to go to bed nice and warm, and clean.”

He starts to open his mouth — to say what, you’re not sure, because it catches in his throat when you unceremoniously tug your shirt up over your head in one smooth motion. You lose sight of him for a brief moment through the soft knit cotton and by the time you get it pulled completely off he’s pointedly looking elsewhere. Anywhere but at you.

“Is something wrong?” You quietly venture, a soft note of uncertainty creeping into your voice now.

“No, it’s fine. Just … hurry up and get undressed so we can get this over with.” Decisively turning his back to you, he starts to shrug out of his long jacket. You hesitate, looking from him to the shirt balled up in your hands and then down at your own chest. A mild pang of relief comes over you at finding your plain black sports bra very much where it should have been.

So you hadn’t forgotten to put it on. Good. That could have been rather embarrassing for you.

In the same breath you abruptly realize that you were about to take it off and get naked in the same room with Dan Heng who was already working to get all of his clothes pulled off too. He seemed to understand that well enough. Perhaps even more so than you actually did. So why had he reacted like that when you’d taken off your blouse? Surely it wasn’t all that strange for someone to disrobe in front of another … was it?

Pondering this conundrum, you carefully watch Dan Heng fold and set his garments aside on top of the sink one layer and one deliberate motion at a time. His coat and the bracer worn on his right arm make up the bottom of the pile, followed by the lightweight hip guards worn around his waist along with the belt that secured it all. The second skin of his tight black shirt comes off next, revealing a smooth back that flexes powerfully with the overhead motion he uses to get it peeled away. It doesn’t escape your notice that, through it all, he makes a point of not looking at you. All of his attention remains forward and locked on the task at hand, neither uninhibitedly baring himself at you nor stealing any lingering glances in your direction.

It was almost as if in despite of the shared nudity that was inherent in an arrangement like this, he still wanted to give you your privacy. Or as much of it as one could possibly have when bathing with another person.

Was that what it was then? The root cause of his reaction was … reticence on his part? You hadn’t stopped long enough to consider that or any of the other potential implications that came with it but it seemed Dan Heng very much had. If he was behaving this way then you probably should be too.

With that decided, you turn away from him and mimic his actions of neatly folding your top. You don’t have anywhere else to put it though so you have to make do with setting it on top of the toilet lid. The following silence is surprisingly rife with some unnamed tension, interspersed only by the near constant rustle of clothes being removed. Your boots, socks, skirt and underwear are all soon discarded, and you have to try very hard not to look when you hear him shuffle towards the tub again.

“Ready? I’m going to turn the water back on.”

“Go ahead.”

The spout turns with a soft creak and the faucet roars to life, loudly spewing water into the basin. Same as before, and much to your relief, it only takes a few moments for steam to begin wafting up from the noisy deluge and start creeping into your periphery. He quickly smacks the plunger down to redirect the stream to the shower head and the bathroom is suddenly at least two octaves quieter than it was before. You could hear yourself think again. Thank goodness for that.

Silently, Dan Heng steps in first and you quickly scuttle after him. You weren’t keen on losing out on even a single drop of hot water but your refusal to look up from the floor makes actually getting into the shower a bit of an awkward process. You have to feel around with your foot to figure out how close you are and your big toe hits the side of the porcelain a bit too hard, making you hiss through your teeth. Quickly shaking it off though, you lift your leg and blindly step over the rim.

Only to slip when you come down wrong on the other side, the slick surface ripping you off balance with a gut wrenching lurch. You collapse forward, arms flailing, but Dan Heng is quick to grab hold of you before you can hit the floor. Once all I said done, the only thing you’ve succeeded in doing is smacking your knee into the wall.

“Owww …”

“What in the world do you think you’re doing? You could have seriously hurt yourself or broken your neck.” He snaps at you, his tone still as mild as it ever is but there’s no mistaking the sharp bite of reprimand lurking just below the surface. You feel vaguely like a troublesome toddler he’s been tasked with babysitting as he hauls you further into the safety of the tub before reaching up to pull the screen closed with a sound click of his tongue. “I was wondering what was taking you so long to get in but I didn’t expect you to jump without even looking first.”

“I’m sorry,” You murmur, still trying to keep your eyes averted as you carefully work to get your feet situated under you. “I just — I didn’t want to invade your privacy.”

“My privacy?” He echos you, incredulous. “You should have considered that before you suggested us taking a shower together. It’s a little late for it, don’t you think?”

Cautiously slow, you bring your hands up to brace them across his damp chest and gently push. Dan Heng’s hold on you hesitates and then relaxes, letting you pull free so you can take a step back. That his fingers linger at your forearms as if to steady you, or perhaps catch you should you slip and fall again, does not escape your notice, but you decide not to comment on that just yet. Or maybe ever, depending on how the next few minutes played out.

“Sorry.” It’s all you can think to say now.

“There’s nothing to apologize for. While I do appreciate the consideration, there’s no getting around the fact we’re going to see each other naked in a situation like this. It’s okay to look.”

“But?” You whisper into the steady stream of water coming down at his back.

“No ‘but’s. I’d much rather you look than hurt yourself.” His hands shift, adjusting to loosely grasp your elbows. When he gently tugs you in closer to him, you acquiesce without a fuss. You hadn’t noticed how big they were until now and that makes for an unexpectedly convincing argument to encourage your compliance. “Here, get under the shower head. We should make sure you warm up enough before we run out of hot water.”

You can’t exactly argue with that when the rising steam only seems to further highlight just how chilled your skin actually is so you let him get you spun around, trading spots. The steady, hammering rush of warmth hits you all at once as you’re directed into the spray and a violent shudder instantly races up your spine. Whimpering softly, you curl in on yourself as you bring your arms up to wrap them around your upper body. The resulting nudge against painfully hard nipples almost steals the air from your lungs but if Dan Heng notices the way you subtly jolt at the contact he doesn’t show it.

Evidently oblivious, he reaches up to almost casually palm the top of your head. At first you think he’s merely petting you in an uncharacteristic show of doting affection but you quickly realize he’s helping to work the water into your hair, ensuring it’s thoroughly sodden. Still uncharacteristic, or perhaps unprecedented was the better word, but decidedly nice.

Very nice, actually.

“I didn’t take you for the shy sort.” He eventually murmurs, more to himself than to you. No way were you about to pretend you hadn’t heard him though.

“Funny. I was thinking the exact same thing.”

“Me?” His blunt fingers pause in your hair. You can feel him peering down at you through the steamy gloom that encompasses the cramped tub but you were still hesitant to lift your eyes and look. There was no telling what you might accidentally catch a glimpse of.

You really had no idea, truth be told, but given his earlier reaction it seemed like one’s body wasn’t meant to be ogled or stared at. He’d looked away from you for a reason. It only seemed fair if you gave him the same courtesy.

A terse, silent moment passes.

Evidently realizing he wouldn’t be getting any further explanation, Dan Heng exhales a quiet sigh into the thickened air before directing his hands down to your shoulders. “Turn around. I’ll wash your hair for you.”

Not only did that sound like a rare, once in a blue moon offer you were sure to never hear again, it also seemed way safer than facing him the whole time. You were already having trouble keeping your eyes from wandering from the single strip of his bare arm you’d settled on, having had no other choice when you were standing so close to each other.

So you gratefully pivot, giving him your back. Your shoulders start to relax from their defensive hunch now that the warm water is running down your front and slowly seeping into your skin. It seems to feed into the internal temperature of your core as he shifts behind you, reaching around for something out of sight. The next time his hands come up to touch your hair, it’s with a healthy dollop of shampoo coating his palms and fingers.

A soft sigh of contentment slips out of you as he starts to work it into a nice lather over your scalp, keeping your neck tipped back so he could still work without having to deny yourself the comfort of the shower head. He’s as diligent with this as he is everything else, yet so incredibly gentle about it that you almost start to doze right there on your feet. It felt beyond good. It was amazing.

“Gotta’ say I didn’t expect this Trailblaze mission to turn out like this.” He says at length, just when you’re starting to really drift off to la-la land.

Blinking yourself awake, you fix your attention on the ceiling. “Neither did I.”

“And to think, it’s only just started. You’ll have to forgive me if being I’m too rough by the way. I don’t often groom anyone else’s hair besides my own.”

“No, it’s perfect.”

He huffs a quiet laugh but refrains from saying anything further until another minute or two has gone by, and a nice, thick lather has accumulated over the circumference of your skull. “There, that should do it. Turn around again but keep your head tipped back so you don’t get suds in your eyes.”

Obediently, you move to spin around but you seem to have forgotten something rather important in your drowsy state. Namely your close proximity to one another, how very near you were standing to him. But it’s too late by the time you realize your mistake though, and your tits wetly swipe across the lower half of his chest with a sharp burst of fleshy friction. Both of you draw a quick inhale in near perfect unison at the contact and your eyes pop open where they’d started to slide shut again, suddenly wide awake.

For the first time since you’d stepped foot inside the shower, you find yourself looking directly up at Dan Heng. His startled expression must surely mirror yours because for a long time the two of you just stare at one another in mute silence. You aren’t sure what to make of this. Not the situation itself or the twisting knot low in your gut.

You think you should probably take a step back and put some much needed space between the two of you but you don’t get the chance. Unable (or perhaps unwilling?) to find the presence of mind to make your legs move before he reaches up to touch your hair again, you soon find yourself trapped between his arms. He’s got you caged in like this while he dutifully scrubs the shampoo away, evidently too committed to the task at hand to stand down even when a distant note of unmistakable fluster has settled across his normally stoic expression.

And as if Pandora’s Box had been effectively ripped open, like you couldn’t stop yourself now that you’d already looked once, your eyes start to wander. You take in his usually fluffy hair, now waterlogged and heavy across his brow, and the concentrated set of his mouth. Glancing lower, you can make out how well defined his chest and arms are, much more packed with muscle than one would expect from someone who, according to March, spent so much of his time in the databank room aboard the Express. You’d already seen him in action a handful of times though so it doesn’t exactly come as a surprise. He was strong and his firm physique showed that. And even lower than that …

Your eyes widen at the sight of your breasts squished up against him. No wonder you’d felt that brush of skin on skin in such stunning high definition, even for as brief as it had been. What strikes you more than anything though is how soft and pliable your flesh looks shoved up against his. Where Dan Heng was hard with muscle and unrelenting, your chest was soft and invitingly malleable. A distant part of you innately understood that this was the physical difference between man and woman, the biological indicators of sex. It sparks something in the back of your mind and you fumble to grab hold of it, to comprehend what it means.

Your frantic internal grasping is interrupted when Dan Heng roughly clears his throat, prompting you to snap your attention up with a little jolt.

“Just what are you looking at?”

“N - nothing.” You stammer, suddenly embarrassed. You’re not entirely sure why you should feel hot with shame and something else you can’t quite put your finger on but there’s no denying it’s there. You couldn’t tell if you were about to wilt and wither, or bonelessly melt into him.

“I think I may have to take back what I said earlier.” He grumbles. “It might be preferable if you don’t look.”

“Wha - -“

You feel it then. A soft nudge against your lower belly that sends your heartbeat lurching into overdrive and your legs instantly turn limp like overcooked noodles. It’s an entirely instinctive reaction, one you don’t understand anymore than all of the other confusing happenings that have taken place in this hotel bathroom, but when you try to pull away to get a look at what’s tickling your bellybutton, he just clutches at you tighter to keep you in place.

“Please,” His voice is barely more than a hoarse whisper as he bends his head close, wincing even while he presses his damp forehead against yours. “Don’t move. Just … stay there until it goes away.”

His expression is wretched. Dark brows knitted to create a deep wrinkle between them, his eyes so pinched you could barely see the dull blue of his irises through thick lashes. It almost scares you. Almost makes you second guess the wisdom in sharing a shower with someone else. No, that wasn’t quite right.

It was a man you were bathing with and you were … a woman. That was what made this dangerous and ill advised. That was why he’d reacted the way he had at the start of all this. Oh, how terribly you had miscalculated the full scope of the situation.

It’s a struggle to swallow down your jittery nerves and find your voice but you finally manage, somehow. “Does it hurt, Dan Heng?”

“No.” He hisses, contradicting himself and what your eyes were clearly telling you. “This isn’t your fault or your problem. I should have been more cautious, that’s all. It’ll go away in time.”

You don’t think you very much like the sound of that. “But why? Why does it have to just go away if it’s making you uncomfortable? I can help you.”

Dan Heng sucks in such a sharp breath you can feel it rattling around inside his chest where you’re pressed right up against him. “Don’t say that.” He croaks. “You don’t know what it is you’re saying.”

“I can learn. You could teach me.”

“Dammit …!”

He stiffly shifts his weight then, redistributing his balance to the full center of his body. You got the distinct feeling he was trying to angle his pelvis away from you, to pull it out of reach where he could flag and soften without the close proximity of your body heat there to entice him. You rock with the motion though, follow the movement. Stay pressed against him and reach down with one hand to blindly feel for what was causing him such obvious distress.

Your wrist bumps against the stiff flesh jutting out from his body, making him groan very low in his throat. It’s easy to find now that you have a general idea and you carefully wrap your fingers around the width of him, surprised yet delighted to find the skin silky soft and smooth. He twitches in your hold and swells, getting harder. Rapidly filling the rest of the way out while Dan Heng holds himself so tightly that you think he might just shatter and break right before your very eyes. You can’t help it though. Not only was curiosity a very compelling factor here but you also cared about him a great deal. The thought of watching your friend and fellow crewmate suffer in silence right in front of you wrenches at your very heart and makes it hard to think rationally.

And it must be the same for Dan Heng too, because his fingers stay frozen in place as you feel along him. They remain buried in your hair, fervently clutching at your skull, as if you could be the lifeline that would save him but he continues to hold himself back for some reason. It’s hard to say if he’s scared of letting you go for fear of what he himself would do or because he feared what you might do to him with that freedom. He doesn’t try to stop you or pull away though. Just quietly seethes into the scant space separating you as you locate the bulbous head and give it a brief squeeze. That makes a tense shudder work through him, starting in the general vicinity of his hips before racing up to the rest of him. Distantly, you realize that he wants to roll his pelvis forward into the touch, to seek out more and bask in it, but he won’t.

“Why do you fight it, Dan Heng?”

He manages to choke out a mirthless laugh, though not without a good deal of effort. “We only just met not that long ago, for starters. It seems rude to act on such impulses given our brief rapport with one another.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Maybe I do.”

You don’t think you believe that. If he really meant it he would have put an end to it by now, or at least made a greater effort to do so. But he just stands there, softly panting while you follow the length of him down to the base where a thick patch of curls brushes against your knuckles. The weight of him in your hand is surprisingly satisfying and you just can’t seem to stop yourself from exploring him.

Twisting your hand downward, you find even more satiny soft skin waiting just below and you eagerly curl your fingers around that too. It’s incredibly pliant but he sucks in a sharp, gasping breath in response to being handled and your pulse erratically jumps with a start.

“Gentle. Those are — sensitive.”

“I’m sorry.” You murmur softly. “I could be a lot more careful if I could actually see what I was doing though.”

A low rumble starts up in his chest, so faint you almost miss it under the constant spray from the shower head. Your whole body flushes, warming to the point of real discomfort but he doesn’t give you enough time to fully process any of it. Not the unexpected noise or the curling tendril of wanting low in your stomach. Not even the fact that you were currently holding the full weight of his manhood in the palm of your hand.

To your genuine surprise, he starts to pull back. Extricates himself from you with exceedingly stiff motions that leave you fumbling for something to say. Another apology or perhaps a plea. You don’t know which and you never find out, because he grabs you by the shoulders and spins you around. You have no choice but to comply as he guides you forward, pushing you almost right up against the interior wall of the shower and totally disregarding your mouse squeak protests while he does it.

“Stop hogging all the water.”

You open your mouth to snap back in response but all that comes out is a tiny little squawk of surprise when he pulls you back against him, moulding your wet back to the firm planes of his front. His hands drop to your waist then, taking bruising hold of your hips to press your lower body equally flush with his. There’s no mistaking the press of him now, the way it digs up into your lower back and slides into place along the middle seam of your backside like it naturally belonged there. It's as if you’ve suddenly forgotten how to breathe when he stiffly rolls his pelvis and grinds into you, somehow hesitant yet eager at the same time, before forcing himself to go still again.

“Sorry,” He says right into your ear, low and hushed, as the warm spray washes over both of you now. “I thought I could control myself better than this …”

“It’s okay.”

“It's not. You only just joined the Astral Express, not to mention you — the way we found you … it feels like I’m taking advantage of the situation but that was never my intention. I swear it.”

You understood what he meant even if he was reluctant to say it in quite so many words. There was a Stellaron inside of you but beyond that your identity was a complete unknown to everyone around you. Even you couldn’t say for sure who you were or who you’d once been, if you’d ever been anyone at all. That didn’t mean you were without your faculties though. You could still make decisions for yourself and take control of your own life. If that weren’t true then Himeko never would have given you the choice to join everyone on board the Express. This you knew to be true.

So you pointedly push back on him, meeting his next stiltedly reluctant thrust. Dan Heng’s fingers bite into the meat of your hips in return, clutching at you so desperately you half expect to find bruises blooming in the same spots later on. That doesn’t really matter right now though. What’s most important is not only helping him, alleviating the discomfort that so obviously pains him, but also proving your own autonomy. To him as much as to yourself.

“It’s okay, Dan Heng. You don’t have to hold back.”

Groaning softly in what you think must be relief, he huddles close and curls in tight against you. Nuzzles at your temple in a coaxing manner that makes you tip your head back towards him. Water runs down your face in heavy rivulets, matting your eyelashes together, but you pay it little mind. You’re much more interested in the way Dan Heng angles his mouth down and slots it against yours in a kiss that is equal parts tentative and demanding. The heightened state of his emotions is blatant in the hard press of his lips, the hungry pull that makes you want to submit and give him everything he could ever need or want. There’s a distant note of domination lurking under the surface of that heated exchange though, like he was innately drawn to claiming what he wanted for himself, but his level headed manners were still keeping him in check. That wouldn’t do. It wouldn’t do at all.

You quickly make your choice and bring your hands up to take firm hold of his blocky wrists, making sure he doesn’t try to escape. Not that you actually thought he would when both of you were already in this deep, haltingly moving in tandem against one another, but you didn’t want his polite niceties to get the better of him. He either doesn’t suspect a thing or he simply doesn’t care though, because he just keeps kissing you even when you go up on your tiptoes to make his cock drag down your ass. The height difference makes it a bit awkward, a bit unrefined, but you manage to successfully raise up enough to leave him nudging at the space between your legs.

And when you come down again, trapping him in the soft squeeze of your thighs, he gasps like you’d just electrocuted him. The sound rattles inside his chest where it’s pressed into your back but, still, he doesn’t fight it. He doesn’t tell you to stop. Rather, he drags his palms lower to grab two big handfuls of your upper legs and press them more tightly together around him. You nearly lose balance and tip over in this unnatural stance but a quick hand slapped against the damp wall steadies you.

“Careful. If you continue to push this much further …”

The warning in his voice is clear as day but you don’t really care. Not when you could feel the faint pulse of him between your thighs and he was lined up so perfectly with the seam of your cunt that you could feel your own internal pressure ratcheting up another notch. This wasn’t exactly familiar territory, this pulse pounding excitement that makes you dizzy with a need you don’t fully understand, but the instinctive urge to nudge your hips back and forth feels much too natural for you to truly question it. So you just do it.

And oh, how you’re rewarded by the simple slide of him along your slit. Hot, blinding sparks flash behind your eyes and you almost swoon right there in his arms, but you know you have to keep moving. Need to chase that pinprick ember of satisfaction just as much as he does, and Dan Heng only reinforces that when he pulls you back to meet the next enthusiastic thrust of his hips.

A gasp catches in your throat at the wet, meaty smack and lodges there as you tip your face down to look at yourself. Some of your hair slips forward with the motion, wet and clinging, but you hardly even notice it with so much of your attention focused on your own body. Your nudity hadn’t felt so stark before, when you were simply focused on bathing and occupying space with him wherein the two of you just so happened to be naked together. It’s so different now looking at it through the hazy lens of intimacy though, the sight of your tits bare and wet stoking the flames within you to even greater heights. Beyond that, over the soft curve of your stomach and lower still, you can just make out the thatch of hair covering the cradle of your pelvis. And beneath that his cock head nudges out from between your legs, blooming for but a brief moment before retreating back into the tight squeeze.

It was enough to nearly make your knees buckle and give out.

“Oohhn,” You hiss into the constant spray, swaying in his hold. “Dan Heng … that feels - -“

“Incredible.”

You let out a soft moan in agreement, rocking in time with his steady thrusts. The height difference was a good thing, actually. It ensured he stayed pressed up tight against you, constantly knocking your cunt with a fleshy jostle whether he was pulling out or pushing in. It was a continuous cycle of pleasurable shockwaves that quickly leaves you panting just as heavily as he is, and you eagerly writhe against him when the pressure just continues to build and build. You felt like you were going to implode in the most literal sense. What exactly had he done to you?

Had he even done anything at all, or was this just a natural result of your own needs mingling with his and feeding into one another? You couldn’t be sure. It was impossible to think straight when your cotton stuffed head was starting to spin alarmingly fast, but you decide that it doesn’t really matter either way. The drag of him against your cunt was enough. His possessive grip on your body was enough. There would be time to figure everything out later, after you’d properly taken care of each other, and you let yourself rock back into him with an accompanying groan that subtly rises in pitch at the tail end, basking in the litany of sensations.

“Can I —“ He suddenly blurts, choking on it. His fingers sink into your flesh so hard it starts to hurt and you let out a faint whimper while he struggles to reorient himself. “Can I … touch you?”

“Nnghn, ah - aren’t you already touching me?”

“More. I’d like to touch more of you, if you’ll permit it.”

You screw your eyes shut, trying to focus on your breathing. He certainly wasn’t making it easy. “Ooh … please, please touch me, Dan Heng. I feel … I feel like I’m - -“

His hands immediately fly up off your hips and greedily latch onto your breasts instead, lifting the weight of them in his palms. You suck in such a haggard breath you feel like you just might pass out on the spot as you arch against him, throwing your head back into his shoulder. Water from the shower head mercilessly pelts against your face now but you can’t be bothered to lobby any complaints about it when he’s cupping your tits as if they were meant to fit right there in his hold. It’s perfect and sublime, and it just ratchets your own excitement up another notch, making you impotently shudder.

This pulse pounding feeling of cresting pleasure may have been foreign to you, but you could already see yourself becoming irreversibly addicted to it. Perhaps this was even more dangerous than you’d first realized.

“Oh! If you do that …”

“Does it hurt?”

“I — I don’t know.”

He noises a faint sound of confusion at your quiet whimper, his hands loosening around your chest. You’re acutely aware of the odd little look he gives you through the swirling steam but can’t quite bring yourself to turn your face away. Whatever this was, whatever it meant in the long run, you wanted more of it. Needed more of him.

“Don’t stop. Please.”

A small frown graces his lips. “But you just said - -“

“I know. But I don’t want you to stop.” Carefully, you lift your hand — the one not currently braced against the wall — and cover one set of Dan Heng’s knuckles with your fingers. They seem dainty resting against his like this. “It feels kind of funny but I don’t think it’s bad. I don’t really understand what it means but … I want you to keep doing it. Please?”

Groaning like you’d just sucker punched him right in the gut, Dan Heng leans further into you until his weight presses you down into a half stooped position. His skin sticks to your back and clings but this too feels good. His body heat bleeds into you, warming you up far more than the shower ever could have, and you eagerly squeeze the muscles in your legs to keep them locked in place. This time when he kneads your breasts it’s much more tentative and slow. He takes his time with it, just savoring the fleshy give, and you keen very softly when he at last nudges one index finger up to brush it over your nipple.

You can feel yourself sinking deeper into that hazy fog as he starts to move again. The restrained power behind his thrusts sends fresh bursts of static energy coursing through your system, further highlighting the sensitivity of your aching teats as you rock with him, luxuriating in the fleshy drag of his stiff length against your cunt.

Pap. Pap. Pap.

He keeps the rhythm slow and even, but so vigorous that it pushes you forward and makes your tits bounce in his hold. You experience everything in stunning high definition from the slick dampness that oozes out of you to smooth the glide of him between your legs right down to the simple sensation of water running across your skin. It’s overwhelming and somehow still not enough. You couldn’t even think straight let alone formulate a semi coherent sentence, your tongue lolling heavily inside your mouth as you shudderingly rear back into him just to feel that delicious friction again. And he takes it in stride, never faltering no matter how wild you get or how hard you shake as the tumultuous waves crest a little bit higher each time. The firm, unyielding planes of his pelvis meeting with your backside, harder, faster. The distant tickle of coarse pubic hair digging into the vulnerably soft flesh of your ass. Even the low, guttural sounds he makes against the side of your face. You were so close to drowning in all of it.

His thick, callous worn fingers curling up to finally pinch at your nipples is what really sends you over the edge though. The sudden jolt of pleasure so intense it rides the line of being painful almost makes you collapse right then and there, and you throw yourself back into him with mindless desperation. Your hips seem to move on their own even as you cry out for him, judderingly grinding yourself down on that rock hard length pressed up into you.

“Ooh, Dan Heng!”

“Please don’t say my name like that.” He quietly wheezes under his breath, still pinching at your breasts. Still pulling and tweaking, using his thumb to brush over them and flick the tightly coiled peaks back and forth. Your body was a livewire just waiting to detonate, and it doesn’t seem to escape his notice. It’s apparent in the way he’s so insistent with his ministrations, encouraging you to keep moving your cunt back and forth, back and forth against him with nothing more than the attention he gives your tits. He takes his time rolling them between the two pads to reward you for your efforts and he gives them a slow, encouraging tug any time your pace falters and you start to slow down.

It’s a vicious cycle that perfectly feeds into itself a hundred times over and keeps you balanced right on the precipice of some great, harrowing free fall. The world could have come to a sudden, fiery end at that very moment and you never would have noticed. All of your attention, your entire being, was for Dan Heng and only Dan Heng in that moment. His hands, his lips brushing your neck and your cheek when he nuzzles into you. The constant motion of his thighs flexing behind you, driving himself unendingly into the hot, damp spot between your legs. His taller, wider frame trembling against yours with all the pent up tension running through it that so perfectly mirrors your own.

You’d never felt anything like it before, and a very small voice in the back of your mind wonders if you’ll ever feel it again. Was this a once in a lifetime experience? A fleeting mercurial high that would disappear in a flash bang of white noise the second you tipped over into the awaiting abyss below?

If that was the case, if you were destined to bask in this dwindling euphoria once and only once in your lifetime, then you were determined to milk every last drop of enjoyment out of it while you could.

So you drop your hands and reach back, grabbing two biting fistfuls of Dan Heng’s narrow hips. Use the leverage to draw him in against you at a quicker pace, forcing him to snap his pelvis into your backside with greater ferocity. He issues a wounded, faltering grunt into the air but he doesn’t fight it. He hasn’t truly fought anything you’ve offered up to him on a silver platter, not once telling you ‘no’ since you first stepped foot into this bathroom together, and that knowledge sparks a simmering ember deep within your gut. It’s the taste of victory. Of conquest and self assured confidence that can only be achieved through the meeting of two compatible bodies.

You’re sure of it. Innately, or perhaps intrinsically, you just know that’s what it is.

“Oh, gods,” He rattles out, gritting through tightly clenched teeth while he fucks himself between your thighs, pistoning in and out of the tight squeeze like a jackhammer. “I’m so close — so close, I - I can’t hold it back anymore.”

You would’ve voiced your agreement if only you’d had the ability to do so. The breakneck speed at which he ruts into you effectively steals the air from your lungs though and it’s all you can do just to hold on, clutching at his powerfully flexing hips to ground yourself rather than to encourage him. He didn’t need more encouragement anyway. That one little nudge from you was more than enough and now he couldn’t quite seem to remember to be polite and gentle with you.

The wet smack of his pelvis slamming into your ass is now loud, almost defeaning, and it comes in rapid fire succession to damn near down out even the constant spray of the shower head. It just amplifies the already searing friction against your cunt until it seems to blur into a single, persistent tingle that just grows and grows to the point of delirium. He can’t help himself and neither can you. Not anymore.

“Dan Heng - -“

A truly bestial snarl snakes out of him. His fingers falter, slipping and sliding against your wet teats before adjusting to latch onto the bouncing meat of your breasts instead. What little bit of control he’d still been clinging to dissipates like dust in the wind, and he clings to you so hard it brings tears to your eyes. The demanding press of his fingers sinking into your flesh sends you over the edge with a sudden, lurching jolt as your pussy clenches up and squeezes uncontrollably against his length. Even when you wail out in high strung relief, trembling violently in the throes of your release, he just keeps humping into you like he’d die if he doesn’t chase his own pleasure quickly enough. That continuous drag over your slit just draws out your own involuntary spasms and you can’t help but cry out in oversensitized bliss even as you somewhat awkwardly twist in his arms to look down at yourself.

Numbly, you watch his flushed glans appear between the fleshy press of your legs, quickly disappear and then immediately reappear again just a split second later. He’s pounding into you so fast and so hard that the resulting shockwaves make your thighs jiggle slightly under the force. It’s incredibly fascinating to witness though and you stare at it in a trancelike stupor, barely even registering the pitchy moan he lets out right against your temple.

The next time his cock appears it’s with an eruption of creamy white discharge that shoots out to splatter across the floor and the wall, some of it smearing over the skin where the two of you are connected. Hissing like his soul is actively trying to leave his body, Dan Heng haltingly slows to a stiff roll of his hips that makes his length nudge back and forth just enough to drain the rest of his explosive release. Another healthy spurt rushes out of him and then a savory dribble quickly follows, thickly oozing from the tip to drip onto the floor between your feet. It’s over, just like that, and you blink rather owlishly down at the evidence of your illicit encounter as he heaves a deeply satisfied sigh of pleasure.

It’s a little hard to wrap your mind around what had just transpired, especially when you were still floating in the afterglow and well satiated, but you snap back into the moment when he carefully starts to straighten up. You hadn’t even realized he’d dropped into a partial crouch to better accommodate the height difference, and you turn in his hold to look back at him.

“Dan Heng … are you - -“

“We need to get out.” He cuts across you, back to being the same mild and polite Dan Heng you were used to, but at the questioning lift of your brows he sheepishly glances away. “The water is beginning to turn cold so we need to get out before you start shivering again. Otherwise that would completely defeat the purpose of doing this in the first place.”

Oh. You hadn’t even noticed, truth be told, but you shift to the side when he reaches around you to smack the faucet off. The room goes suddenly quiet, save the dull drip of water droplets running from the spout and two sets of deep breaths coming from you and him. You’d been so caught up in the moment that you hadn’t noticed that either but your heart was indeed pounding a wild rhythm against your chest, and you reach up to idly touch over your pulse. Wild and erratic, just like you’d felt leading up to that mind numbing crescendo.

What the hell had all that been?

“Let me get you a towel.” You hear him say, and you bring your head up in time to watch him flick the screen open with a sluggish motion.

“What about you? You didn’t even get to wash your hair.”

Dan Heng looses a soft bark of laughter as he steps out onto the waiting mat, giving you your first real look at his nude body. He’s all lean and svelte with a perfectly tapered waist and broad shoulders, and — he abruptly turns to face you without warning. You’re suddenly looking right at him. The cut lines of his pelvis and the perfect little bellybutton stamped right in the center of it; the damp mess of dark, dark hair crowning his softened cock and the unmistakable weight of it …

Blood rushes to your face so fast you feel vaguely faint even as you smack a hand up to your mouth and quickly look away in embarrassment. You’d never seen one before. Or at least, you’re pretty sure you haven’t. That doesn’t exactly stop your body from reacting to it though and your knees turn instantly wobbly again to accompany the instinctive urge to touch him, taste him. To feel him moving inside of you with the same keen ferocity he’d shown your thighs. Gods, you were like some kind of pervert!

“After all that you’re finally getting shy?” He laughs, bemused, but you can’t quite bring yourself to lift your gaze again. The risk of jumping his bones seemed far too great for you to take that chance right now. But luckily for you, Dan Heng is much too conscientious to hold it over your head and you soon catch the sound of him shuffling for a towel just another moment later. “I’ll cover up if that will make you feel better but don’t think you’re going to get out of this without having a talk with me first. I meant it when I said I had no intention of taking advantage of you. This isn’t something we can just pretend never happened, you know.”

Cautiously slow, you peek over at him from the corner of your eye just in time to get one last good look at his tight backside before a towel slides into place around his waist. You may not have been able to see it anymore but that certainly wasn’t going to stop you from thinking about it well into the foreseeable future. Curse him and his gorgeous body. “Are you … upset that we did that?”

“Not at all. I only want to check in with you and find out what you want.”

Now that manages to throw you for a loop. “What do you mean? I wasn’t expecting anything in return.”

Sighing softly, Dan Heng pivots back around to face you again. “That’s precisely why. You obviously have no expectations in place and some men would probably try to take advantage of that to use you for sex. I’m not like that though. If you want to do this the right way then I would likewise be amenable to that possibility. If you want to keep things casual that’s fine too. And if you never want to see my face again … well, I couldn’t exactly blame you for that I suppose.”

Confusion marches rampant through your mind until the lightbulb abruptly clicks on. He was talking about taking responsibility for his actions. Of giving you the proper respect and courtesy of having a choice. Dan Heng clearly had no desire to withhold an actual relationship from you if that was what you wanted but he also wasn’t going to force it on you either. How interesting. How very — chivalrous of him.

Your heart gives a tiny little thump against your ribcage, and you smile over at him. Eager and pleased by this revelation, but a bit nervous too. Whoever would’ve thought something as benign as sharing a shower together out of necessity would end with talks of a potential future together.

“Is everyone on the Express as old fashioned as you are?”

He smiles back, gracing you with a small but no less frustratingly charming grin. “In this aspect, I’m afraid it’s just me. Think you're up for it?”

“Yeah, I think I might be.”

⭐

Crossposted: here

#star rail #dan heng #dan heng x reader #self insert bullshit

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coraniaid · 2 months

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The only thing more powerful than the Buffy writers' reluctance to give screentime to a woman over the age of thirty is the collective Buffy fandom's eagerness to seize on the slightest scrap of canon characterization as evidence that said thirty-plus-year old woman is some sort of monster.

The show: Willow Rosenberg likes spending time with her mother and does so willingly even after moving out (as we see, for example, in Forever) and her mother was keen to invite her high school boyfriend over for dinner to try to get to know him as soon as Willow admitted to her that he existed (at the end of Gingerbread) and her mother was fully accepting (literally "proud") of Willow when she came out as a lesbian (already implicit, but confirmed in The Killer In Me). Oh, but she has a full time job in academia and sometimes Willow wishes she paid her more attention (this despite the fact that Willow canonically does hide things from her all the time) and she doesn't always notice when Willow cuts her hair or properly remember her friends' names and she only met Willow's first girlfriend a few times.

The fandom: well, clearly Willow is as much a victim of parental abuse as Xander Harris or Amy Madison or Faith Lehane. This is a completely reasonable and proportionate conclusion to come to based on one on-screen appearance and some throwaway lines of dialogue.

I mean ... don't get me wrong. Shelia Rosenberg is not a good mother. She's not much more than a cardboard cutout, really. Less of a character than even Hank Summers, and that's saying something.

What she is, really, is the sort of lazy cliche you get in a lot of teen movies of the 1990s and 2000s (something which is true of Joyce Summers as well at times, only Sheila is permitted far less depth or screen presence or other redeeming features). She's a somewhat reactionary take on the idea of an adult woman who dares to have a professional career and therefore cannot "properly" attend to the needs of her children. A woman too busy focusing on the abstract (her academic study of "adolescent development") to care about the practical (the growing pains of her own teenage daughter).

(Get it? See, it's funny, because she's a woman with both a child and a career. What will those crazy feminists dream up next?)

As written, Willow's mother kind of sucks: not because she's a bad person but because she isn't written as a person at all. She's a joke, and not a good one.

But the weirdly popular idea On Here that Willow is somehow traumatized by having what is, by all accounts, a fairly ordinary and comfortable childhood is absurd. There is simply nothing in the text to support this.

#btvs #the one character on Buffy played by a woman over 30 who the fandom don't insist is an evil monster is Drusilla #which is pretty funny actually since she very much is one #like I love Drusilla and I think she should have been in the show much much more but she very much is capital E Evil #she cheerfully tried to end the world! twice! in one season! she literally eats children!#but she cannot be coded as a Bad Mother so she gets woobified to the role of loving and self-sacrificing innocent ex-girlfriend instead

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iamnmbr3 · 1 month

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hi there! During some weeks i've really become a fan of your drarry posts(sometimes daily;))..they're so detailed and convince one in a way that they can't say "nah, you're delusional..drarry doesn't exist!(platonic or romantic)"..and tbh i agree with 98% of your opinions( 2% is in little details lol)

I have some things to say:

-in room of requirement scene harry asks draco whose wand is this in his hand and draco replied his mother's [i love how he answers with honesty here bc mostly he doesn't answer straightforward..it's obvious to me how much he changed and how exhausted he is:(] then harry laughed, admitting that situation is not funny at all(as far as i remember)...do u think why harry laughed?the only reason in my mind is he missed bickering with draco hahaaaa:)))

-in shrieking shack voldemort told lucius that perhaps draco's decided to befriend harry(i love voldy for this^^)...do you think he told it to terrify lucius or despite draco's fear, he actually saw any sign of draco being inclined to harry and his side and seeing that courage in him to change his side?

-In your last meta you told "I think he definitely doesn't want to admit that there's something in Draco that he's drawn to." This is also about harry describing draco's appearance..there are some ppl that are actually gorgeous( either according to other ppl or harry) like tom riddle, cedric, cho ginny etc & there are some that look ugly(harry makes it quite clear lolll)..and some average face which harry does not bother to describe much more...as far as we're told draco is some sort of average(ofc you can think of him as handsome like i think but he's not that type of handsome that everyone agrees on like cedric..that's what i think)but harry tells good things about his appearance in a very weird way...it looks like he knows he looks good but he doesn't want to confess that directly...

Thanks for reading, keep going!💙

Thank you for this lovely ask! It truly made me smile so much to read your kind words. I'm so glad you've been enjoying my posts! And for the record I never mind if people disagree with me (as long as it's polite; and if it's not, it's the rudeness I mind not the disagreement). Discussion and respect for different opinions is what fandom is all about.

I think you raise some really fascinating points here!

1) In the Room of Requirement scene I think Harry's bitter laughter also kind of parallels Draco laughing humorlessly when they run into each other in book 6 when Harry's on his way to the Quidditch match. I think partly Harry's also just relieving tension and laughing at the absurdity of the whole situation and how they always come back to each other. And yeah I also love how Draco responds honestly to Harry.

Also very notable that when Harry asks why the three of them aren't with Voldemort, Crabbe and not Draco is the one who says that they're going to be rewarded and that they hung back to capture Harry. Draco, who has no problem answering Harry's previous question (about his wand) or his next question (about how they got into the Room) is notably silent here. (I wrote more about his motivations in this scene here btw).

2) This is such an amazing point about the shrieking shack scene that I never thought about. But wow. You're right. Great catch! This bit is actually so interesting. So Voldemort says:

"If your son is dead, Lucius, it is not my fault. He did not come and join me, like the rest of the Slytherins. Perhaps he has decided to befriend Harry Potter?"

This is such a strange and specific thing to say. Sure it could be him just messing with Lucius. But he could've done that in so many other ways. He could've just threatened to kill Draco. Or questioned his loyalty more generally. Voldemort doesn't even say something like "perhaps he has deserted me and fled" or speculate that Draco has betrayed him and joined the flighting against him. He suggests that Draco has "befriended" Harry specifically.

Also in this scene Voldemort is thinking about other things and not really paying attention to Lucius or particularly trying to torment him. Lucius is the one who brings up Draco and this is Voldemort's response to the topic.

We know Voldemort can read minds. Despite Draco's best efforts (which given that he's alive despite saving Harry in the Manor, must have been pretty good) to shield his thoughts something must have leaked through, something that gave Voldemort pause. When Lucius says that Draco would never befriend Harry, Voldemort just gives him a noncommittal response and says: "You must hope not." Which sounds to me like he isn't buying it. And indeed, where does it turn out that Draco is (clearly without orders or permission from Voldemort)? With Harry. And I've already discussed in my other meta why I don't think he was planning on killing Harry or handing him over, despite what Crabbe and Goyle thought.

Voldemort's comments are especially interesting given that right after the Room of Requirement scene Draco is attacked by another Death Eater who also seems to think he's not on their side, despite the fact that Draco's name is well known and he has a Dark Mark. So...what happened to make him think Draco wasn't on their side?

3) Yeah I absolutely think Harry thinks Draco is good looking but tries to ignore it. I think they are both exactly each other's type.

#Thanks for these great thoughts and for patiently waiting for an answers. send more asks anytime #i love getting them #asks #drarry #Harry Potter #Draco Malfoy #hpdn #h/d #harry/draco #harry x draco #meta #Harry Potter meta #drarry meta

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