#and its definitely nothing intense like when they were younger

[spaceinvadeeer]

i will remember you

#i hc they live quite far away from one another to they only meet up so much #and its definitely nothing intense like when they were younger #old todd is greying too but idk how to convey that properly #he also has his natural hair back #my art #scott pilgrim #scott pilgram takes off #illustration #wallace wells #todd ingram #toddallace week #toddallace #art

[tremendum]

i've got headaches and bad luck but they couldn't touch you

[not my gif. title from song Of All the Gin Joints in All the World] pairing: joel miller x fem!reader (afab, use of she/her, use of the word girl)    

rating: explicit. (18+. mdni.)      

word count: 4.6k  requested: Could you write something (literally anything really) like mean Joel x feisty Reader but based on the ancient Fall Out Boys song "Of All the Gin Joints in All the World" pretty please? 🥺🥹 I was just listening and I thought the lyrics were perfect for your writing ❤️But as always no pressure and no problem at all if you don't like the idea or anything else. Lots of love! P.S. smut is very welcome btw hihihi summary: “Joel's not one for feelings anymore, but you seem to pull them out of him like it's your goddamn job." warnings: established previous hookups, use of girl/babygirl, established age gap (unspecified but addressed openly), brief mention of oral m!receiving, brief mention of reader and joel’s canon-typical scars. choking, mean!Joel & brat tamer!Joel, brat!reader lol, dirty talk (its joel), degradation, use of the word slut, slight dumbification, spitting, rough sex, unprotected PiV, cum eating, nipple play, slapping (tits, ass). think that's it!

notes: okay finally another mean!Joel for the soul!!! this is super unedited also. tysm for the request, obv inspired by the song Of All The Gin Joints in All the World by FOB. :) this was fun and i hope yall love it! dont b afraid to request anything yall wanna read at all and as always pls comment or reblog :) love u xoxo  

[other Joel fics: mr. miller series fever landmines  ]

★  

Joel Miller isn't sure exactly when all this bullshit started. 

one day, he was introduced to you fleetingly in the cafeteria while you and Maria had an intense conversation - he’s not sure if you spoke for more than ten seconds; but months later and Joel happens to know exactly what your sweaty skin tastes like on the sharpness of his tongue and could probably list his favorite pairs of underwear you own. 

it's nothing, really. 

you patrol together often, and Joel guesses that out of all the insufferable people he's had to deal with, you're definitely not the worst. perhaps your handiness with a trigger - not nearly as inept as his own but definitely a close second - helps; or maybe it's the way your mouth feels wrapped around his cock. 

and he's not stupid; he knows exactly what Tommy was doing when he signed Joel with you for patrol - the same shit he'd been pulling since they were thirty years younger and Joel was fresh out of the relationship with Sarah's mom. but it's different now, because life is not the same - nothing is the same. 

Joel's not one for feelings anymore, but you seem to pull them out of him like it's your goddamn job. 

you are one talkative motherfucker; usually, that'd drive Joel up a wall, but after repeated and incessant exposure to Ellie for such an extended period, his patience has surprisingly grown.

and unlike others, you never acted nervous or scared by him. irritated, maybe, but it's not like he cares much if you get irritated by his attitude; you're worse than he can be.

at first, he thought you were just fucking him because you just didn't know who he really was yet. but months into whatever this shit is, and you're still - for whatever fucking reason - hanging around him, even after everything. he likes it, though, that you fight fire with fire.

and maybe that's why Tommy stuck you two together, because in some ways it was inevitable - maybe it was a good thing, Joel thinks. 

but this morning, as Joel's mind slams against his body, jolting him awake, his aching head makes him double-guess that.

it's weird how different it all is now - before you, Joel was tortured through nights plagued with sweats and memories. blood, pain, loss. he used to dream restlessly of life and all of its unforgiving horrors; but now, to his shock, he finds himself plagued with dreams of you. 

he gasps awake - he's not sure he'll ever stop that. 

but this time, you're next to him in the bed. his skin feels warm as the light filters through the blinds that stay constantly pulled down this time of year to retain the cool air and Joel lets out a shuttered sigh, his head aching.

it's only the second time you've stayed the night. he's never stayed at yours, god forbid - but a small part of him aches this morning when you slide out of his heavy, sleep-addled muscles. in the absence of your heat there is still bliss for a moment, until he's roused fully by your voice. 

"these sheets are dirty." the sound carries into his ears, melodic and fiery. he cracks one eye open, hand raising to rub over his face - a deep, tired sigh. 

"g'mornin' to you too." he snarks, sighing as he pulls himself on aching muscles to blink his eyes open; you stand over the bed, on the side that usually remains cold an empty while Joel thrashes in fits of restless sleep. there's not a single scrap of clothing on your body.  

he feels himself stir at the sight of you, naked, neck painted in a splattering of beautiful marks that'd been pulled forth in moments of ecstasy the night before.

you send him a half smirk, shrugging as you tug on a shirt - his, fuck, his stomach swirls at the sight of you wrapped in him. something primal crawls in his chest as you smile at him, legs almost glowing in their bareness as they knock against the side of the mattress. your fingers brush the fabric to the left of his head. 

"there's stains on the pillows." you shake your head, your face alluring in its tease. he feels himself roll his eyes as he grunts, "you're actin' like it ain't your makeup stainin' it?" 

he stares at the marks on the pillowcase; black, from that shit you sometimes put on your eyes which just makes them all the more beautiful, wide, and alluring. the makeup that's surely expired after all this time but still is something you like to do to, as you'd mentioned once, 'reclaim your humanity.' whatever.

Joel would never admit it to you, but he hadn't even really tried to wash out those stains; something about them gives him a warmth in his chest every morning that he wakes up in this cold bed. 

but when his eyes fall back to you in your silence, you smirk and it hits him: you're fucking teasing him.

he glares at you as your lips curl in a huff of a laugh, shaking your head. "if you keep complainin' about every damn thing, might as well just fuck you on the floor." he mutters, mostly to himself-  but also to see the way your thighs shift, eyes widening slightly as color washes your cheeks. you're squirming at his words, just like that - oh, he's got you pinned.

you'd like that, you dirty little thing.

but you regain your composure quicker than lightning, ready to snap back; yet another tally to add on the list of things he admires about you.

"you're such a gentleman, Miller." you snide, fanning yourself sardonically with one hand as you roll your eyes, searching for your underwear. 

he remembers the first time you'd said that to him -

"why so shy?" you'd purred. the memory of your voice curls around his ears as he huffs, watching you bend over and give him a complete view of your ass as you fetch your panties from the floor.  "c'mon, Joel, you don't need to be such a gentleman. 's nothing you haven't seen before." you'd stripped yourself of your shirt, your pert nipples pebbling in the cold breeze as he'd sat, cleaning his rifle. "the hell's the matter with you?" he'd grumbled; but it didn't stop either of you. you'd been pressed between him and the splitting backseat of the broken down crashed car within seconds, anyways. 

his eyes meet yours as you stand again. 

he snarks, "well you’re givin' me a headache, an' I've only been up for two minutes." he glares at you, swinging to pull his boxers over his hips, standing up to find his shirt. he pointedly ignores the glare you send him at his grumpiness. 

"you're the one acting dumb," you mutter, "acting like I'm the one who gives you headaches." you retort, a teasing glint in your eye; he knows that look. Joel knows you'd never get a headache from him - as much as he pisses you off, he knows you're too fiery, too lucky to get caught up in whatever miserable puddle he's drowning in. 

because Joel's bad luck curls around his fists wherever he goes; the talons reaching out, crawling through every hallway and seeping through every door. you, on the other hand, are like a goddamn firecracker. Joel hates the idea, but you're... somehow gifted in that way.

he's convinced his bad luck couldn't touch you if it tried. 

no matter the dumb shit you pull - forgetting a flashlight, not flipping off your safety that one moment when the clicker had stumbled out of the brush; all of that, and you escape unscathed, nothing but a giggle and a half-shrug from you before you move on to the next stupid thing. 

if you weren't such a goddamn brat, it'd be charming. 

his eyes snap to yours as your words fall from your lips; a burning in his chest at your tone. he watches your legs carry you into his bathroom, and he can't help it when his follow yours.

you haven't even flipped on the lights before he shuts the door behind him - you're already wearing that snarky fucking smile on your face, and he's straining already against his boxers.

he stares down at you, crowding you slowly into the wall. "what the fuck did you just say to me?" he hisses, mouth close to yours. as you turn your chin up towards his face, he can tell that you try your hardest to control your smirk, playing into the tense energy that's emanating from his chest. 

"I said you're acting dumb."

you repeat, tilting your head slightly as you drink in the darkness in his eyes. lord, you'd let that darkness swallow you in a fucking heartbeat. 

speaking of; your own heartbeat thunders in your chest, anticipating. you know what's coming, you can nearly taste it on your tongue. 

"oh, 's that right?" Joel asks, tilting his head to stare down at you. you swallow as you stare back into those deep irises, the small bit of golden light that shines through the small bathroom window illuminating in an ominously heavenly ray.

his hand settles on the crook of your shoulder and neck, sliding gently upwards as you nod your head defiantly, pushing as far as you can to see when he'll snap. his eyes glisten in temptation; daring you to act up more. 

raising your brows, you try to play like it's obvious, "waking up and complaining about your headaches, old man?" you tut gently, shaking your head innocently. "I don't think it's my fault that you fucked me twice, immediately passed out and now your head hurts when you've woken up the next morning. you know better than to push yourself in your old age, Joel. that's stupid." you add coyly, knowing it'll push him over the edge - he loves it when you act like a brat, no matter how much he denies it. 

his response is immediate and exactly what you'd hoped for. 

he's on you in a split second - hand sliding from your shoulder to grip your throat, pushing you back onto the wall of the bathroom. the towel bar digs into your middle-back slightly and you gasp in arousal at the force of his body on yours. you can feel his cock, hard and straining in his boxers, as it presses into your lower stomach. 

"y'wanna play like that, baby?" he growls, "why you fuckin' around with an old man like me, then?" he asks.

your face heats up, arousal flooding your core, your cunt slowly wetting itself at the purr of his voice - the meaner the words, the larger the flame. 

"hm?" he gently pushes, raising his brows as his hand squeezes gently on your throat, nudging you against the wall further; your gasp is slightly rasped under the pressure, your whole body screaming with desire. this is what you love - mean, angry, hungry Joel Miller. "'s it because nobody fucks you like I do, is that it?"

his knee slides between yours, wedging himself high up, rubbing suddenly against your aching pussy, the material of your cotton already soaked with a damp spot that rubs against his thick thigh. 

"Joel, fuck-" you groan, already willing to just do what you can to get him to touch you. his hand on your throat tightens at your word, thigh rutting up to slide against your needy clit, your hips bucking at the feeling. "-'s because nobody else is so easy." your fiery mouth betrays your body; the snarky comment snaps his eyes to yours, a dark breath leaving his lips. 

"that's ironic," he snaps, "comin' from someone who begged me to fuck them for hours." 

your face burns at the memory of the first time you and Joel'd hooked up; your desperate voice hoarse from pleading him to fuck you - out in the middle of the woods, a sleeping bag that, by the end, had rips on it from rocks and twigs and the force of his thrusts; the shyness gone from either of you as your touches made up for all the silence between you.

he hums lowly, watching you as you swallow at the memory, his thigh rutting up again and pulling a yelp of pleasure from your lips. "y'don't feel so high 'n mighty when I fuck you stupid, right baby?" he asks, voice dripping with condescendence as he nods gently, encouraging you to answer him. your core throbs at his words, your mouth going dry. 

his hand leaves your throat; you swallow a gulp of air, staring with wide eyes as he grasps your jaw roughly. "answer me." 

"n-no, I don't." you mutter, voice sounding small; the arousal that pulses through your veins begs your mouth to be smart, do what Joel says so he'll give in to what you want. 

he smirks, hands roughly grabbing the thick of your hips and flipping you around to press you against the counter, your hips bending as he shoves himself just behind you. your eyes meet yourself and his own hawkish gaze in the mirror in front of you; your heated breath fogs up the mirror in the faint morning light. 

his fingers thread through your hair, tugging you back again as he tilts your head back. his upside down face, smirking down at you, has your thighs clenching - "open." he orders, voice stern. 

your tongue sticks out and he wastes no time spitting roughly onto your tongue, moving your head back to stare into the mirror; his eyes meet yours as his spit slides over your tongue and his furrowed brows twitch with a slight smirk. "look at you, doin' what I tell you. now swallow it and say thank you." 

your core flutters at his words deliciously as you do as you're told; swallowing, you take a breath and mutter, "thank you," - though it's more breathless than you expected, Joel seems to approve. he hums, "there are those manners," he mutters into your ear, cock pressing against the swell of your ass. "almost seemed like you'd forgotten you had them." 

"didn't forget." you mutter, face heating up as your pussy aches, fluttering around nothing and desiring for his fingers, his cock - anything. 

one rough palm slides his shirt up your torso, exposing your bare tits to both of you through the mirror. with his face stooped down near your neck, a short inhale of your hair before his hand reaches it's destination - your throat. 

"then why're you actin' up?" he rasps, teeth grazing your shoulder. he squeezes his hand again and your eyes roll back in pleasure, arousal soon slicking your thighs as you think you may die from all the teasing. "you don't wanna cum?" 

your eyes widen, breath halting as you shake your head, "wh- no- no!" you hiss, "I do want to cum, please." 

his other hand raises, slapping your breast harsh and quick; your gasp of shock tapers off into a whine of pleasure, your nipples hard in arousal as his palm comes to soothe over the sting. 

"then why're you acting like this?" he asks again, shaking his head. another slap, this time to your other breast. his eyes follow the skin of your chest; the way you gasp, your whines at the slight stinging and the pleasure that follows. fingers pinch your nipples, teasing in circles before another sharp slap echoes through the room. "just a little brat, y'can't help yourself." he decides, biting on your neck lightly. 

you can feel him rut against you hard, grinding his hips as he lets out a short groan. you let out a low moan, whining slightly when he smacks your tits again, skin glowing with the impact. his eyes meet yours in the mirror. "quit the whinin'," he grunts, rutting his hard cock against your ass, "you'll be stuffed full of me soon enough." he grunts, "then we'll see who's dumb." 

your shaky moan sounds more like a groan, elbows falling to steady yourself as Joel releases your throat, tossing you forward to grab your hips instead. he pulls you back, grinding into you as his head tilts back in how own small groan of pleasure. "this ass." Joel grunts to himself as he palms the curve of your ass in both large hands, one falling to smack harsh onto the left. 

you're dripping down the inside of your thighs as he ruts against you twice more; thick fingers soon slide to thumb at the slick wet of your panties. his fingers tease the wet material that's glued to your pussy with need, tracing over your lips lightly over the fabric. "pretty pussy, just for me." he mutters; you nod, looking up at him through the mirror, "all for you, Joel." you affirm, voice shaking with anticipation. 

"you gonna be good when I fill you up, baby?" he lifts his brow, stern look as he palms himself. fuck, he's so sexy behind you like this, his thumb slowly dragging the material of your panties to the side and exposing your weeping cunt; you nod, "yes, I'll do anything-" 

you're cut off by a sharp gasp as the stretch of his cock's head cuts off your brain. he eases in gently at first which you're more than grateful for - no matter how many times Joel fucks you, his size is always something you have to adjust to; especially after your rounds last night left you barely able to walk straight. 

he lets out a breath, "there y'go, baby, take me." he says it surprisingly gently, easing in inch by inch as you breathe deeply, your soaked pussy easing his cock through your channels. his cock is heavy and aching as he slides into you, sheathing you fully within another few seconds - Joel's hands grip so hard on your ass, splaying you open for him, that you think his fingers will remain there for days. 

he's still only for a moment, letting you accommodate to his size before he's leaning forward to press his chest to your back, "gonna fuck you stupid, baby." 

"please, Joel," you groan, cunt fluttering, begging him to move. "do it." 

it's all that he needs before he's setting a pace that has you whining under him, your breath choking as you brace yourself agains the counter of the sink. 

it's bliss. his hips are sharp, the reach of his cock pressing against the spongy spot inside you, dragging against your pulsing walls. "fuck, so deep-" you hiss, eyes closing in pleasure as he presses himself against you, hips surely going to bruise against the thrusts that shove you into the countertop. 

one hand sneaks over your front, grasping at your tits as his cock reaches up into you deeply. he lets out a grunt, "fuckin'- christ, you're s-so tight," he grunts, "even after fuckin' you all night." 

you moan, the quick bout of his praise causing you to squeeze around him, trapping him in your aching desire. the both of you moan at the feeling and suddenly one hand presses on your spine until you're low to the counter. his hands grab your shoulders, fingers curling around the base of your throat as he changes his pace to hard and rough, the sound of your ass against his hips nearly hitting your ears over your cries of pleasure. 

the noises of your arousal swallowing his cock echo around the room in a familiar, comforting chorus as you both let out shuttering moans; his strong arms pull you back until you're once again pressed against his broad chest. his breath fans over your neck and you whine slightly when his thrusts press you up onto your tip-toes. his lips find your ear, "how's that feel?" your hole flutters from the deepness in his voice - he groans at the feeling. 

your response is a whine of ecstasy as you claw at his forearms, head tilting back until you can almost feel his erratic heartbeat. his chest rumbles with a light chuckle, "look, barely took ya any time to get fucked out on my cock," he praises, hand petting your wild hair, "knew you'd be good for me. always take what I give you, right?" 

you nod, desperate to reach the climax that's easily built within you from the stretch of him deep in you and his voice in your ear. your clit aches from being ignored and your hand snakes down to rub light circles on it; your hips jolt as you gasp raggedly, eyes fluttering shut in pleasure. 

"no." he growls, hand grabbing your jaw sternly as he pounds into you, "when I'm fuckin' you, you keep your eyes on me." he snaps, squeezing your cheeks. "'s that clear?"

you nod in the mirror, whines getting louder as his name falls nearly incoherently from your lips- you see his lips ghost over your neck, the smirk that spreads over his pink lips as you finally get out a strangled, "Joelpleaseplease- s'close-" 

he knows what you need; you and Joel are each other's best escape. he pistons into you hard, chasing your high as he feels it spasming close around him. "easy, huh?" he snarls, hips just as harsh as his words, eyes sharp on yours. "who's easy, baby - me, or the one beggin' like a slut to cum on my cock?" 

for someone so quiet and closed off, Joel Miller has never shied away from using his goddamn words when he's fucking you, that's for sure. his words, his accent - they push you towards the edge and it almost distracts you from his question. his eyebrows raise in the silence as you gasp for words, moans choked  as his fingers slide down from your jaw to squeeze your throat. 

"look at'cha, can't even speak for me," he groans, his hand suddenly snaking down to smack your away from your clit; two larger, calloused fingers replace your shaky ones and you wail at the stimulation, almost too much.

you blink up at him through the mirror, unable to speak, unable to think as you feel the crest of something incredibly blissful growing; you let out a whine of ecstasy. "I'm- I'm easy," you concede, finally able to spit your words out, your voice higher than normal in your pleasure. 

Joel nods, kissing your sweaty hairline, "'s goddamn right you are, babygirl," he hisses, "easy for me. this pretty little pussy is mine, isn't it?" 

you scream, "yours, Joel-" before he barely finishes the sentence.

with your words, he smiles against your neck - the feeling of it sends goosebumps over your whole torso. "you're a lucky girl," he growls in your ear, teeth brushing the shell before licking it gently, "you can cum." 

you barely realize you've hit your orgasm until you’re writhing - a white-hot, searing arousal streaking your vision as your eyes roll back. he fucks you steadily through your orgasm, your thighs closing slightly around his large palm, but his fingers don't stop their motions on your clit. 

you shake and stutter for gasps as he pounds into you, chasing his own high that's been spurred - by your own words or the clenching of your orgasm around him, you're unsure. 

"love how you feel-" he groans, voice weakening as he nears his own orgasm, hips sloppy as he pushes your face down, against the cool tile of the bathroom sink. "fuck, baby, made to take this cock." 

his sentences are choppy, his gasps and grunts of pleasure mixing with the slap of your ass against him as he thrusts, your legs tired as he fills you full and then suddenly pulls out. you gasp at the suddenness of his absence, turning to look at him as if betrayed - but he looks completely gone, eyes dark with need. "gonna cum on your tits, sweetheart." 

your stomach flips at the word - one he's never used before - and you relax into his harsh grip, moving down to the ground on your knees as he grunts, "take this shit off now." 

his shirt is on the ground in half a second, your breasts bare to him as he fists his cock, eyes on you and lidded with pleasure. your hands fall onto his strong thighs, looking up at him in awe as he fists his cock, slick with your sticky spend, tip flushed and veins stretching over the shaft. "please, cum on me, want it so bad, Joel," you whine - his hand caresses your jaw and slips over your lips, sticking his thumb into your mouth. you suck eagerly and he moans your name deep, head tilting back in ecstasy. 

"fuck," he grunts, slipping his thumb out of your mouth before you can even swirl your tongue around it, and then he's hitting his orgasm.

ropes of his cum land on your tits, a small bit gathering on your chin as he slows his hand, letting out a few sharp breaths. he's barely caught his breath before your fingers are gathering a swipe of his thick cum, bringing it to your mouth. his dark eyes follow you through his labored breaths as you slowly suck his spend off of your fingers, "fuckin'- pretty," he mumbles into his hand as he runs a palm over his face, shaking his head. 

you smile, cheeks heating up. the sun is rising and the room is fully golden, bouncing off the mirror and illuminating his tan skin, the scars on his body and yours. he's pretty, you realize. 

you tell him so, quietly - in the silence of the bathroom. his scowl softens and you swear you see a blush forming as he rolls his eyes down at you from where you perch on the linoleum. 

Joel always says you only tell him sweet things to get him to fuck you - but in the afterglow of your actions, you catch sight of your makeup-stained pillowcase back in Joel's bedroom and it makes you grin. you know he doesn't wash it for a reason, the same reason you keep coming back to him. 

and you also know that the way he smooths his thumb over your hairline, the way your own hands in turn soothe over his thighs - those actions, they make up for everything else that's unspoken.

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taglist: @satansgoatt @elissaaa @queerponcho @bbyanarchist @lapricot @umavvitch @asreadbyaj @dinsbaby @cottoncandytomu @onmytallesttiptoess @switchbladedreamz @missannwinchester @abs-2020 @afandomidiot @cosm1c-babe @rogersbarnesxx @carleenphillips-blog @bonnibuckets @nightlovechild @jazzyspasms @girlboybug @cannolighost @pastelnap @userpedros @feministfanboi @frogers @grhowls @daddy-din @gothoppered @totallynotastanacc @robbatlover @casssiopeia @wannab-urs @redhotkitchen @joelapologist2001 @silkiers

message me if i forgot to tag u. i was pretty lazy with this one sorry. requests are open.

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#joel miller x reader smut #joel miller smut #joel tlou smut #joel x reader smut #joel x reader #joel smut #joel tlou #tlou fanfiction #tlou spoilers #tlou hbo #the last of us smut #the last of us (tv) #the last of us x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal x reader

[cardansriddle]

Sugar - (tom riddle x fem!muggle!reader)

Summary: Perhaps it was an accident. Or perhaps the fates were mocking him. He had not meant to venture into the little coffee shop and he had most definitely not meant to return. But he kept coming back and the waitress kept putting sugar packets near his coffee every damn time.

Warnings: Tom gets possessive halfway through so it's pretty tame for him. not proofread. oh also self-indulgent crime & punishment debate (got a lil carried away).

A/N: 5.5k words but it's kinda mehh. to the person who requested this, i hope you enjoy it at least a little <3

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ 

Tom felt as if he was a solitary figure in a world hushed by the winter's harsh embrace. With each step he took away from the desolate building of grey against the pristine canvas of winter, he felt lighter. He did not cast a look back towards the orphanage looming behind him, instead focused on the sound of the snow crunching beneath his feet as they led him further into the dark street cloaked in a thick layer of snow.

The wizard knew if he spent another moment in that cursed place he would have lashed out and killed someone, so he had hastily thrown his coat and emerald scarf around himself before slamming the door shut behind him. 

Two more years. He thought to himself. Then he would be out and would never be obligated to return again. Perhaps he would even burn the place to the ground if his plans worked out in his favour. 

The air was crisp, and his breath materialized in front of him with each exhale. His eyes quickly scanned the narrow empty alley for a suitable quiet place where he could pass his time. There was nothing interesting, except for the tiny bookstore nestled in the corner of the street that emitted a warm, golden light through its window. Tom quickly decided it would do, and he strode towards the place with purpose. A small bell chimed as he entered the place, which he quickly realised was a bookstore with a cosy coffee shop tucked inside. 

He inhaled the pleasant aroma of freshly brewed coffee mixed with the scent of weathered books. Before he could lose himself entirely in the intoxicating symphony of scents, a sudden, loud thud echoed from behind the counter, jolting him from his reverie.

"Blimey!" someone cursed, their voice slicing through the tranquillity. Tom found himself rooted to the spot, curiosity piqued, as a figure suddenly emerged from underneath the counter.

It was a girl. Unabashedly, his eyes traced the lines of her features, noting the delicate curve of her jaw and the cascade of hair that framed her face. He assumed she was around his age if not younger and he stared at the girl as she rubbed her head, wincing when she hit a particularly soft spot before she realised that she was not alone in the shop. She froze like a deer caught in the headlights and he watched as her cheeks flushed a deep shade of red. 

Tom, still an observer, saw more than just the blush; he discerned the subtleties of her response, the way her eyes momentarily widened before seeking refuge elsewhere, fingers fidgeting with the edges of her knitted cardigan.

She attempted to compose herself and met his eyes. "Oh! Sorry, sir. How may I assist you?" She asked cheerfully, resisting the urge to duck her head down to avoid his intense stare.

He crossed the small distance to the counter. "I'd like a coffee. Black."

"No sugar?" she inquired, to which Tom raised a single brow. Her blush deepened as she quickly averted her eyes from his face.

"Right, of course. You may take a seat while I prepare this for you." With a nod, she hurried to fulfil his request, leaving Tom alone with the lingering scent of coffee and old books that were now intertwined with a pleasant smell of vanilla and sweet— 

It was her perfume, he realised with a start.

He hastily removed his coat and scarf before plopping down on the nearest armchair. His gaze remained fixed on the girl, absorbed in the rhythm of her practised motions as she prepared his drink, her movements seemingly both effortless and comforting. There was an almost lazy grace to her actions and he continued to watch as she sang under her breath so softly if he had not been staring so intensely, he would not have picked up on it. 

He wondered how he had never noticed this place before. He had been passing through this little street for as long as he could remember but for some reason, he had only stumbled upon it today. His sharp eyes darted around, instinctively searching for traces of magic, half-expecting the discovery of a hidden passage to the wizarding world but he quickly realised the place was undeniably, disappointingly muggle. 

Muggle.

He tore his gaze away from the girl at the mental reminder of what she was. He fished out a book from his bag and opened it to occupy his mind. 

The subtle shuffle of her approaching steps drew his attention back to the present, and he met her gaze as she placed the steaming cup of coffee before him. A sugar packet sat innocently beside it. His eyes lingered on the packet for a moment before lifting coldly to meet hers.

She, however, was undeterred by the intensity of his glare. “In case you change your mind.” She smiled at him softly before turning on her heel and walking back.

His gaze lingered on her retreating figure, and then, almost involuntarily, it dropped to the innocuous sugar packet.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ 

Tom did not know why he had returned. Truthfully, he had not even noticed his feet had led him here until he was in front of the familiar wooden door that led into the coffee shop. Perhaps he had thought more than he should’ve about the disgustingly soft smile of that girl for the last five months. She was an insolent muggle, yet here he was, walking into the place as if he had never left. 

The seasons had blurred since he had last been here. Winter had long surrendered to the warmth of summer. He had to spend at least a month in the orphanage, and he was hoping Malfoy would invite him over for the rest of the summer. 

The place was just as he remembered it. The only difference was the lack of Christmas decorations. He faltered only slightly when he took notice of the girl behind the counter, already staring at him. She had not changed much. Her face was the same, less pale perhaps, but the same, nonetheless. The oversized knitted sweater that once enveloped her had been replaced by a little white sundress, and his gaze involuntarily lingered on the exposed smooth skin.

“Welcome back!” She greeted him cheerfully, and he was not surprised she remembered him. “What can I get you?”

“Black coffee,” he replied curtly

She nodded as if she was expecting it. "Coming right up." Gently shutting her book, she gracefully moved towards the coffee machine. Tom's eyes couldn't help but trail to the volume she had been reading, and to his pleasant surprise, it was Dostoyevsky. He had not pegged her as someone who would enjoy Russian literature, with its weighty and morally morbid themes. In his mind, she seemed more likely to be a Jane Austen enthusiast, with her intricately written romances and flowery prose.

“It’s 'Crime and Punishment'." He suddenly heard her soft voice declare, and he looked away from the book to give his attention to the girl. Then feeling as if she had said something silly, she blushed and looked away quickly. "Though I'm sure you figured that. I just wondered why you look so surprised." 

He replied before he could tell himself not to. "I did not imagine you as someone who would enjoy this." 

Emboldened at his words, she turned to face him, a hand casually resting on her hip as she sported a cheeky smile. "Am I to presume you imagine me often?"

His sharp inhale was audible as he absorbed the unexpected shift in her demeanour. He had not expected this shy, timid girl to tease him so boldly. She was a little vixen.

But he did not give her the satisfaction of getting a reaction out of him. A lazy raise of his brow was the extent of his acknowledgement before his gaze wandered towards the rows of bookshelves, feigning indifference. "Do you have another copy? Perhaps I shall like to reread this evening."

She frowned, walking over towards the table he had occupied last time to set his coffee down. He grimly took notice of the sugar packet placed near it. "I'm afraid not. But you can have mine." 

"No, that is quite alri—" He began to decline but she had already crossed the small distance between them and was holding out the thick book. He hesitated for a moment before his fingers closed around the object, careful to avoid touching hers. 

The girl smiled and walked away before he could even say thanks. Not like he was going to. 

Settling back into the soft armchair, he opened the book only to freeze at the sight of a name scribbled on the front page and he knew it belonged to her. The wizard rolled the name around in his mind and determined that it suited her. He stared at her name for a minute longer before turning the page and delving into the content of the book. 

He had been so immersed in the story that he had not noticed how the time had passed. The gradual hush of the coffee shop's ambient sounds finally penetrated his concentration, and he distinctly heard the girl approaching him. 

"I'm sorry to disturb you but we're closing in five minutes." She looked at the book in his hands. "You may return it once you're done." 

He hummed and looked down at where he had stopped. 

"We sometimes encounter people, even perfect strangers, who begin to interest us at first sight, somehow suddenly, all at once, before a word has been spoken."

He wondered if the universe was trying to tell him something. 

Tom found himself caught in the silent narrative of this stranger's presence.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ 

He returned the next day.

She looked up to see him enter, the sleeves of his button-up shirt rolled up. 

Tom placed the book on the counter. 

"You finished it in one day?"

He shrugged. "I'm a fast reader." 

She gave him a small smile, turning to make his black coffee before he could ask for it. "Every time I reread it it takes me a few days." She paused for a moment, turning to look at him over her shoulder. "The usual?"

He nodded. "The usual." He debated whether or not to voice his next question, and decided one conversation with the girl would not hurt.

"Why do you read it so often?"

"Each time I find new details that make Raskolnikov's character more complex. Each time I discover these small little things I missed the last time I read it becomes so much better. Plus I enjoy his moral dilemma."

He hummed, his curiosity piqued. He took his usual seat and watched as she brought his coffee and set it down in front of him. "Enlighten me." He gestured towards the seat in front of him. She hesitated only for a second before taking a seat. 

"Raskolnikov is obviously a complex character. His actions are driven by a desire for power and superiority, a belief that he is exempt from conventional morality. However, one could argue that his internal struggles and eventual remorse suggest a more nuanced exploration of morality." 

Tom furrowed his brows. "I see him as a product of his environment, a desperate man driven to extremes by the harsh circumstances he faced. His morality shifts to the other side of the spectrum." 

She cocked her head to the side, and he could see her getting slightly frustrated. "But morality is not just a spectrum; it's a complex interplay of values, societal norms, and personal convictions. Raskolnikov's guilt stems from the clash between his actions and the intrinsic moral compass within him. It's the consequence of recognizing the weight of one's choices."

He scoffed before he could stop himself. "Morality is subjective. What is right for one may not be right for another. Raskolnikov was weak and he was an idiot. Guilt is a useless emotion and it is for the weak."

Her expression remained unwavering. "But perhaps it's that recognition of guilt that separates the morally discerning from those who lack empathy. The fact that you can't comprehend his guilt doesn't make it foolish. It makes it human."

Tom's eyes narrowed a glint of impatience in his gaze. "Human or not, guilt is a hindrance. It's a sentiment for those too feeble to rise above their actions. If I were to make a difficult choice, I would do it without hesitation, without remorse." 

He only realised the slip of his tongue after the words left his mouth. He stilled, gauging her reaction yet her response was measured but firm. "Raskolnikov's guilt is a testament to his humanity, his ability to grapple with the consequences of his choices. It's what sets him apart from those who operate without remorse." 

"But—"

"So what you're saying is you would kill and feel no remorse?" She cut him off.

Yes.

"You do not understand." He did not intend his tone to be so harsh, yet the words left his mouth coldly. She visibly withdrew and nodded stiffly. "Right. Enjoy your coffee."

He opened his mouth to say something but realised for the first time in his life he did not know what to say. 

He was left staring at the cursed sugar packet she had left near his coffee again.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ 

He did not return the next day. Nor the day after. Or after.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ 

Two weeks passed with no sign of him.

And then she saw him step into the coffee shop. He walked in with determination. He walked up to the counter, meeting her gaze with an intensity that mirrored the unspoken tension between them. "I'd like a black coffee," he said, his tone even, though a hint of something lingered beneath the surface. 

She nodded, her expression composed but guarded. As she prepared the coffee, the air seemed charged with unspoken words. Her usual cheerful smile was notably absent. The absence struck him, and he realised he had enjoyed her smiles.

When she placed the coffee in front of him, there was a palpable pause. He glanced at the sugar packet, a subtle acknowledgement of the lingering disagreement. Without a word, he took it, his eyes meeting hers briefly before he poured the sugar into his coffee. 

She looked at him, her gaze unwavering, before a small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of her lips. 

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ 

He returned the next day. And the day after that. And for the rest of summer.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ 

The next time he stepped into the familiar place, winter had covered the city with a snowy blanket once again. It had been a year since he first discovered this little place. And he had not seen his little waiter since he left for Hogwarts in September. 

When he walked in, her eyes lit up visibly. "Hi!" She waved at him with a bright grin. 

"Hello." He greeted as he unwrapped his scarf and settled in his usual seat. In a matter of minutes, she was bringing him his usual order. She was back to wearing her warm knitted sweaters. "How did you enjoy the book?"

"Oscar Wilde never disappoints," he said. She hummed in agreement, pleased at his words. He watched as her hands dropped to fidget with the bottom of her sweater. "You wish to ask me something." He stated. "Ask."

"Do you study in a boarding school?"

Tom hesitated only for a moment before replying. "Yes."

"Oh. Well, that explains the months of not showing up."

"Were you expecting me?" He teased her with an amused smirk, taking delight in the way her cheeks reddened. 

"I was just wondering that is all," she admitted, a hint of curiosity peeking through. Tom observed her, noting the return of the timid, shy girl from their first encounter. It amused him how a few teasing remarks could momentarily whisk away her fiery boldness. He couldn't help but wonder what it would take to awaken it once again.

"And do you wonder about me often, little vixen?" he added, a playful glint in his eyes.

She blushed harder at the nickname but then as if a thought had struck her, she straightened and Tom watched as she visibly mustered up her courage. "I actually was wondering your name."

He bristled, but she must have not noticed because she continued. "I suppose I have not given you mine either." She mused out loud and announced her name to him. "But I thought it bizarre that considering all the time we've talked we never got around to that. Friends who do not each other's names." The girl laughed at the last notion and only then she realised that Tom had remained unnervingly quiet throughout the exchange. She raised her eyes from the frayed edges of her sweater, and the sight almost made her take a step back. His eyes had darkened, and she could have sworn she saw them flash red. There was no warmth, no familiarity in his gaze. 

"Are you alright?"

Suddenly, he rose from his seat, an ominous tension permeating the air as he advanced towards her with every word. "We are not friends. You dare to think I would be friends with the likes of you?" His words were sharper than the keenest of blades, cutting into her with merciless precision. "Foolish, little girl," He spat out before grabbing his things and storming out of the place. As the door closed behind him, the little coffee shop seemed to exhale, the echoes of his harsh words lingering in the hushed aftermath.

She stood frozen in her place, helpless against the storm of emotions and the tears that began to veil her vision. 

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ 

Tom fumed for months after their last encounter. How dare the ignorant muggle insinuate that they were friends? He scarcely considered his Knights of Walpurgis as his friends, and she thought she would just appoint herself the title? Who did she think she was?

"Mate, you alright? You've been unresponsive for a while." Malfoy nudged him slightly, attempting to draw his attention back to the present.

Tom made a noise of acknowledgement before mentally shaking the image of his little waiter— no, not his, he berated himself— from his mind. 

But no matter how he tried, he could not. He could not just banish her from his thoughts. He knew a part of him, a rather embarrassingly large part of him enjoyed her company, her passion, her conversations— just her. 

And there, tucked away in the recesses of his trunk, lay her damned book— a taunting reminder of her. The temptation to burn it, to obliterate any remnants of her from his life, danced on the edge of his thoughts. He had shoved away, out of sight if only just to save himself the fury, the anger, (the longing).

He wondered if she was going through the same turmoil as him. He hoped she was. She had no right to make him feel this way and get away with it unscathed. 

But she was too enticing to give up. He did not know what it was about her. She was a muggle, an ordinary, plain girl working at a forgotten little cafe. Sure, she liked books, but so did a lot of other people. Yes, she was pretty, but so were a lot of other girls. But none could even come close to stirring his emotions as she did.

Perhaps it was the ease with which she conversed with him. Or the entirely too cheery smiles. Or her endearing knitted sweaters— though he secretly favoured the sundresses.

He, of course, knew what it was. He had tried to deny the idea to himself, but there was no escaping it. Tom had never been able to be unequivocally authentic with another individual before. From his early childhood, he refused to allow anyone close to him. He never lowered his walls and rejected anything that would yield a genuine connection. It was refreshing with her. He had no cause to uphold a curated facade.

Had she not been a muggle, he would entertain the thought of her bewitching him. He would have been convinced the girl put some spell on him or slipped a potion into his drink. 

It was maddening. 

She was maddening.

He sighed upon realising that he had spiralled again thinking of her. He needed to return the book, and maybe that would ease his mind. Perhaps once he was rid of her possession, she would not haunt him anymore. (Though he knew he was only trying to reassure himself with the last thought.)

As summer loomed around the corner, it felt both too distant and too imminent, mirroring the paradox of his tangled emotions.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ 

The sound of her laugh rang out before he could even close the door behind him. His head snapped up so fast it was a wonder he did not get whiplash. But there she was, his little waiter, chuckling delightfully as some boy spoke lowly from behind the counter. Chuckles escaped her lips, and she bit down on her lip in a futile attempt to stifle the laughter, her hands deftly at work preparing a drink. Despite her efforts, laughter bubbled forth once more, forcing her to set the cup down to avoid any potential spills.

An immediate surge of anger coursed through him. Who was this boy? What business did have with her? What right did he have to elicit such genuine laughter from her? (Most importantly, how dare she replace him?)

Tom swallowed the lump in his throat, attempting to gather himself into some semblance of a composed, unaffected man that he most definitely was not at that moment. With a loud, purposeful cough, he sought to catch her attention.

She spun around, the practised smile reserved for customers settling onto her face as she readied herself to serve him. However, the smile swiftly vanished the moment her doe-like eyes locked onto him. She looked like a deer caught in headlights as she stared at him, wide eyes roving over his face as if to confirm that he was really standing there, in front of her, and was not a figment of her imagination. 

Because despite their last encounter, despite the anger, and the hurt she had felt, she kept hoping he would return. She kept imagining him standing there, with his ridiculously fancy scarf as he spewed out an apology. She had delved so deep into her fantasies involving him that now that he was actually there, she did not what to do or to say. Her tongue was tied, and her brain was fogged. What was she supposed to say?

It seemed he decided to grant her mercy and be the first to break the tense silence.

“Hello.” 

“Hi.”

He shuffled closer, though his steps were unsure, unlike his usual confident strides that she was used to seeing. “I wished to return your book.” He declared yet made no move to reach into his bag for the said book. He allowed his eyes to drink in the sight of her, her eyes that always seemed to glisten, her hands that were always fidgeting, her little sundress that he was afraid would drive him to insanity, (and her lips that he wished he could press against his own just so he could find out what they felt like, tasted like.) He shoved the last one into a drawer in his mind and locked it away. He could not fantasise about her. She was a muggle. He could not stoop so low as to hold affections for a muggle girl.

“Did you enjoy it?” The girl asked tentatively as if afraid one wrong word would set him off, have him spitting more harsh words that would dig deep into her skin and remain there. 

“As always.” He replied. Because every book she gave him held another meaning. She was a clever girl, choosing the ones that she knew would have him coming back with a strong debate prepared in his mind. They always seemed to stand on opposite sides of every argument that the books posed, ensuring that their discussion would get heated, exciting, and thrilling. 

While Tom vehemently disagreed with her views, he found pleasure in the way her mind worked. He admired her quick-wittedness, her ability to counter every argument he posed. No one else had engaged him in such stimulating conversations. She was a breath of fresh air, a captivating force he wanted to inhale and never release. He yearned to suffocate in the essence of her being, to be consumed and to consume in return. He wanted to own her— that irrational desire to keep her for himself was always there in the deeper parts of his mind that he was scared to venture into.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” She responded but he could detect the subtle undercurrent of uncertainty in her voice.

He hesitated. “May I have one black coffee?” He was extending an olive branch, and while it was not an outright apology, coming from Tom, it was a whole declaration. 

“It’s five minutes until closing time.” 

She would not be swayed so easily then. 

Fine. Tom thought. He would make her come to her senses. 

The boy who he had forgotten was still there suddenly came to stand next to him. Tom eyed him with disdain, his features curling into an unimpressed sneer, raising a lazy brow.

“I’ll help her close up, mate. You can leave now.” 

“Daniel, that is not necessary.” She muttered, glancing between the two men nervously. Daniel? Tom clenched his jaw, enraged. In his absence, it seemed she had gotten on first-name basis with a boy. His mouth soured with the taste of betrayal at her blatant ignorance. How could she discard him so easily? Had she not suffered all these months at the mere thought of him? Had he been alone in his suffering?

“No,” Tom stated flatly. “You will leave.” He told the boy then turned to face his waiter. “We will talk.” 

“Tom, I do not think—”

He cut her off with a hiss. “It was not a request.”

Daniel seemed wholly displeased. He opened his mouth to argue, but his girl beat him to it. “It’s okay, Daniel. I will see you some other time.”

“Whatever he has to tell you, surely he can say in front of me.”

She shook her head gently, trying to dissuade him. “It’s a matter between him and I. I would rather talk privately.” 

Tom looked smug as he faced Daniel again, struggling to contain his smirk. He could see the indignation clear on the boy’s face as his eyes flickered dubiously between her and Tom. He knew the wizard was no ordinary acquaintance of her, he could feel the palpable tension in the air like a wolf. 

Tom, of course, wished to push his buttons further, just to have the last word. “You heard her. Leave.” 

Daniel scoffed. “I will see you tomorrow then.” He muttered and with one last long look, he squared his shoulders and left the café with as much dignity as his wounded pride could muster. 

As the door shut with a final thud, they were left in pregnant silence, both unsure of the dynamics at play between them. The air in the café hung heavy with unspoken tension as if the silence itself had taken on a weight, pressing down on them both. The ticking of the clock on the wall seemed louder than usual, each second echoing in the quiet space.

She was the first to cave. "Well? You wished to talk." Gesturing towards him with a hand expectantly. "Talk." 

Tom inhaled sharply, and for the first time in his life, he did not quite know what to say. How to proceed. 

"Who is he?" The question tumbled from his lips before he could stop it. 

She raised a brow. "Seriously? After how you walked out of here last time I would think your choice of words would be different."

"Different? I hardly think the question was unfair."

She huffed impatiently, discarding her apron as she turned from him to put everything away for the night. "Of course. How foolish of me to assume that you have no business inquiring about my life when we are not even friends." She chuckled bitterly. "You made the notion quite appalling if memory serves me right. You wish to know who is Daniel? For all you know, he could be my fiancee. Would it matter? No. Because you and I are hardly acquaintances." 

An unfamiliar feeling began coiling in the pit of his stomach, and he suddenly felt sick. She briefly turned to fix him with a pointed glare and froze at the look on his face. The dancing flames of the candles seemed to mirror the flickering emotions in Tom's eyes—flames of irritation, discontent, and an unexpected pang of jealousy.

Tom could scarcely believe his fate. How was it that he— the most powerful wizard of his generation— had succumbed to the pathetic disease of— what was it? Desire? Lust? Infatuation? Such mundane urges were beneath him, he had no wish to pursue anyone or anything that was not remotely related to his quest for power. Yet there she was. In her infuriating fucking dress and those innocent eyes. Did she even know what sort of turmoil she had caused him?

All of a sudden he felt exhausted, defeated. His shoulders sunk visibly as he ran a hand through his hair. He would use a hundred of her sugar packets in his coffee if it meant she would just grace him with her bubbly smile again and just— just what? Leave him be? He did not want that. Treat him as if nothing had happened? Maybe. Release him from whatever enchantment she put him under? Yes.

"What do you want from me?" He asked at last, frustration clear in his voice.

She regarded him with disbelief as she rounded the counter to stand directly in front of him. "What do I want from you?" She repeated incredulously. "I want an apology! I want an explanation! I want—" she sighed, cutting herself off before she could finish the thought. "You cannot just show up here demanding things and ordering people around after how you treated me last time. If you wish to continue this conversation, you will apologise to me."

"You want me to say sorry?" He took a step towards her.

"Yes!"

"Fuck your apology." 

Before she could register what was happening, Tom closed the minute distance between them and caved into his desire. He grabbed her face, fingers threading through her hair, and pressed his lips against hers. The kiss was not gentle; it was a collision of pent-up tension and bottled-up desires.

Tom's lips moved fervently against hers, pouring his frustration into the act. It was a silent declaration that transcended the boundaries of his complicated inner turmoil. Tom knew that. But he could not pull away from her— not after having tasted how her lips feel like. 

Her hands, which had hovered hesitantly in the space between them, found their way to his shoulders, fingers gripping the fabric of his coat, pulling him closer. 

She felt—tasted like God's favourite nectar, sweet and addictive and he knew he would never get enough of it. She might not have been a witch, but he was bewitched by her. 

As they broke apart, breathless, the air between them hung heavy with the residue of their shared kiss. He dared not to ease his hold on her, only stared at her with darkened eyes, taking delight in the way her lips were bruised, and puffy, all because of him. But it was not enough. He needed to mark her for all to see. 

He dove into the tender skin of her throat like a man starved, teeth sinking into her flesh with no warning, and a sick sort of satisfaction washed over him at the muffled moan that escaped her mouth. He sucked on the skin until he was sure there would be a purple mark blooming on the spot before running his tongue over the flesh to soothe the sting. He did not waste any second before moving to mark another spot.

"I do not even know your name." She managed to choke out in between her whimpers, hands moving of their own accord to tangle in his hair, and a particular tug had him growling deep in his throat. 

"Tom." He whispered, pulling away from her neck only to return his lips to hers. "Say it. Say my name." He murmured in between the kisses, pushing her back until her back was pressed against the counter. He easily picked her up to place her on the surface, his fingers trailing along her thighs to her knees to nudge them apart so he could stand in between them. 

"Tom." She breathed out in a daze, and he smirked in delight. 

She was his. He had already branded her, and he would do much more to ensure she knew it was him she belonged to. 

He leaned to brush his lips against the shell of her ear. "I hope you know there is no going back from this. From me." He whispered, fingers slipping under the strap of her dress and dragging it down her shoulder slowly. "You are my dirty little secret now. Mine."

She shuddered under the weight of his words but he was already snaking his hand around her throat as his lips found home on her own once again.

No going back.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ 

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[angels-fantasy]

Hii this is my first ever request so I'm so sorry if it's bad😭 But recently this has been like in the back of my head and I couldn't find any fics abt it. So basically it's Brothers best friend Bakugo... I'm low-key so embarrassed but I thought it would be cool for some angst 🤭 I love your works and I hope I'm not bothering, i hope you have a nice day!!

My Brother's Bestfriend Is The One For Me!

Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

Details: umm little confessions at the end tee hee, nothing too crazy. reader gets in their head about some tingz, silly katsuki

Word Count: 1k

hello im sorry i replied a little late, thank you sm for your request this is an awesome idea :D i hope you have a nice day too <3 i tried my best at some angst 🥲 i hope i did your request justice! also plsss someone know what im referencing in the title lolol. its not exact but its close XD

ever since you were a kid, you had a crush on your older brother's best friend-katsuki bakugou-who was also older than you, but only by two years! so it wasn't that bad, really.

watching him grow up into the handsome man he is now was hard, especially when you were always seen as the annoying, younger sibling that just wanted to hang out with the older kids.

though something that was even harder was having to watch people throw themselves at your childhood crush, only to see them grow disappointed at his arrogant personality.

this frustrated you because you knew katsuki better than any of those losers did. you knew how to work around his rough edges, how to tell apart his real anger from his teasing words, and so many other things about him.

but if you knew him better than everyone else that was interested in him, why didn't he want you back? did he still only see you as his best friend's annoying, younger sibling? he couldn't have, right?

that exact thought lingered in your mind every time katsuki was around. there was no way you didn't have at least a small chance with him, especially considering the fact that he'd never had a serious relationship before. it wasn't that he couldn't get one, because he definitely could, but it was because he chose not to.

katsuki was ambitious, and he didn't want to let anything get in his way while he was training to become a pro-hero, and that included relationships. now maybe you were naive for this, but sometimes you really thought you were different in his eyes, and you would have a chance with him.

so here you were, sitting at the dining table in your parents house across from katsuki. your brother had invited him over, like he usually did. you forgot the reason why, all you knew was that your crush was coming over, so you were excited.

but now that you were sitting across from him, you couldn't help but squirm in your seat nervously under his gaze.

"what's up with you?" he asked, causing your family to turn their attention towards you.

your face burned. "er-nothing. i'm just tired... i didn't sleep well last night." you lied, making katsuki squint at you while your family shrugged off your excuse and went back to their conversation.

the rest of the dinner continued on, with you occasionally picking at your food and glancing up at katsuki, who had caught you looking multiple times.

once everyone was done eating, you immediately offered to wash the dishes, just trying to find any excuse to get away from your crush's intense gaze. since you were cleaning up and it was late at night, you could hear your parents go to their bedroom and your brother tell katsuki he'd be waiting in his.

as you were washing dishes you felt a presence behind you, and you knew exactly who it was.

"hey, buggy." he said, ruffling up your hair and making you groan in annoyance. 'buggy' was your childhood nickname, given to you by none other than katsuki, when he found you playing with a few bugs one day.

he hasn't let you live it down since.

"i don't even play with bugs anymore! i was like five, katsuki." you said, growling at a particular stain that wouldn't wash off very easily.

he crossed his arms, and leaned against the counter next to you, silently watching as you continued to wash the rest of the dishes.

when you were done with the last dish, you dried your hands and turned to him. "why are you here, stalking me? shouldn't you be hanging out with my brother or something?" you snarled, getting frustrated at his company. usually, you'd appreciate it, but these past few weeks he'd been oddly quiet around you - especially when you two were alone.

"maybe i just wanna hang out with you, buggy. is that a problem?"

you clenched your fists, feeling your frustration boil over. how could he act like he wasn't doing anything wrong? did he not realize that he'd been making you feel flustered and confused all the time?? these past few months he'd been behaving strangely around you, and you didn't know what to think of it.

"stop messing with me." you said in a serious tone, looking down at your feet. "you always confuse me with all the shit you say and i hate it! i don't know what to think anymore!"

a part of you felt bad for yelling at him like this, but you couldn't help yourself.

you glanced up at his face and saw his shocked expression, and you wondered what he was going to say next. probably something stupid.

he sighed heavily and ran a hand through his spiky hair, "'m not tryna confuse you... i just-ugh. you're actually not a shitty person to talk to." he confessed, reluctantly of course.

you shook your head at his words. "you don't have to lie, i know i'm probably more of a little sibling in your eyes anyway." you said, making your way around him to go upstairs to your bedroom until he stepped in front of you, blocking your way.

"you actually think that?" he sneered.

"well it's what you make me think!"

your words made him sigh and he put his hands on your shoulders. "shut up and listen okay? i'm not good at this crap, so just let me talk." he demanded, making you pout, but nod in agreement.

"i like your dumbass and i just don't know any other way to tell you..." he said quietly with bright red ears. you just continued to stare at him, not believing his words, which scared him.

he shook your shoulders slightly, "say something dammit!"

"sorry! i...i just don't know what to say." you said, bring your hands up to your shoulders to grab his and hold them in your own. "but, i like you too. i have liked you for a long time."

after hearing yourself admit you like him out loud, you let go of his hands and brought them to your face to cover your burning cheeks.

he laughed his loud cackle and brought you in for a bear hug, "no way, little buggy actually likes me?" he teased, "i always thought you were scared or somethin'."

"well, i was scared sometimes..." you mumbled.

the two of you continued to embrace each other for a while, silently, until katsuki spoke up. "y'know you're mine now, right buggy?"

your heart fluttered, "only if you're mine too."

"obviously."

authors note

i lowkey got lazy in the end im sorry if you can tell 😔 but i hope you enjoyed !

taglist for bakugou fics: @doumadono @shonen-brainrot @b134ch-m4h-ey3z

#@angels-fantasy #fanfiction #fanfic #writers on tumblr #anime #my hero academia #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #mha bakugou #bakugou x you

[gatorbites-imagines]

Boba Fett w gun play? I feel like he’d definitely appreciate a reader who knows his way around a blaster haha.

Boba Fett x male reader

headcanons

I can imagine Boba likes a partner who knows their way around any weapon. This is bounty hunter Boba, before he ends up in the sarlacc. I just think Boba being so turned on by his partner being dangerous is so Mandalorian.

You were a fellow bounty hunter, your specialty was force users and the highly skilled. This didn’t mean you just hunted Jedi, but all force users, and by God were you good at it.

You and Boba met when put on the same bounty, some extremely skilled warlord that ruled an entire cluster of planets. Working together you guys were able to take him down, and Boba got the first glance of how skilled you were with a blaster.

After that you two became allies, then friends, and then lovers. It was a slow process, as bounty hunters don’t trust easy, especially other bounty hunters. But Boba was younger at the time, and cockier than he is in the future, so he doesn’t give up.

Even before you guys started dating, seeing you fight always left him feeling heated and hot blooded, his codpiece fitting uncomfortably with how hard it made him to see you flip your blaster in and out of its holster and switch to a different weapon.

He knew he was head over heels when you pointed a blaster in one of the gaps in his armor, digging it into his flightsuit and leaving a mark, threatening to kill him right then and there. And instead of fear, he felt like he was gonna burst inside his flightsuit.

It was better than any adult entertainment for Boba to see you cleaning your blasters. To see you take them apart piece by piece, clean them up, and click it back together again, always had him panting to himself.

It takes a bit for you to realize just what kind of effect you have on Boba. Because of his cockier attitude and just being younger than he is in the Mandalorian series, hes got a higher drive and is more grabby.

It’s not unusual for Boba to come up behind you and squeeze your hips and ass, or for him to say all kinds of dirty things over comms during bounties. But he is especially twitchy and antsy when you show off.

It hits you just how much he likes it when he walks into your shared room to see you sitting there in nothing but your boxers, trying to fix a jam in one of your blasters, and he turns right on his heel to march into the fresher to get off.

Even when he comes back out of the fresher without his armor, he still stares a little too intensely when you finally fix the blaster. If he hadn’t just gotten off, Boba would probably have popped a stiffy again.

From then on you start to show off on purpose, using a blaster when you don’t actually need too, or maybe handling your weapons a little more lewdly.

Like, theres no reason for you to lick one of your knives, or use spit to clean up a spot on your blaster, but you do it anyways, just to see Boba start shuffling around, trying to be subtle about how hard it makes him.

Boba would realize you had him figured out pretty damn fast, because you make a habit out of staring him in the eyes when you are cleaning up the barrel of your blasters with a rag, making sure it gets real clean and shiny.

Neither of you really say anything, and maybe that’s a problem that comes with you both being younger adrenaline hungry bounty hunters, as you guys don’t discuss kink a whole lot either.

One day when you guys are getting steamy, nothing too extreme, just Boba pressed up against the wall, his codpiece off, and flight suit opened, one of your hands twisting and jerking his length, you put your blaster into the mix.

With your other hand, you press the cold barrel of the blaster against his cock, making Boba’s eyes shoot open and immediately look down, his noises growing louder and hungrier, his hips twitching, and pupils blown huge.

He ends up cumming all over your blaster, which you just tsk about and complain about, but you both know its just all for show.

Sometimes to make Boba more desperate, you don’t even have to use the blaster in any way. It just being visible on your belt as him awake and aware, you pretty much pavlov him to get a stiffy when you walk around in little clothes and your blaster on you.

One of Boba’s favorite things you do, is when you make him hold your blaster in his mouth. The safety is always on of course, and its never actually turned on, but it always has his eyes rolling and his cock dripping.

You probably end up with a blaster just for this, since you can’t let Boba slobber all over your actually good blasters, since it could ruin the technology. It is pretty hot to see him flatting his tongue around the barrel like he’s sucking you off though, so sometimes you’ll use your favorite blaster on him.

When he’s older, after the sarlacc, he still has a thing for blasters, and just weapons in general. If you end up allowed to use a garderffii stick by the Tuskens, it gets him as hot and bothered as your blasters used to do in your younger years.

#male reader #boba fett #star wars #the mandalorian #mandalorian #boba fett imagine #boba fett headcanon #boba fett x male reader #boba fett x reader #star wars imagine #star wars headcanon #star wars x male reader #star wars x reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x male reader #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian headcanon #mandalorian imagine #mandalorian headcanon #mandalorian x male reader #mandalorian x reader

[angstsfordays]

I will go to you like the first snow [1/?]

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x OC! femreader

Summary: "Before I held you, I didn’t know that the world I was in was this bright." The beginning days of how Coriolanus and OC met in the Academy a year before the 10th Hunger games.

Warnings: Coriolanus Snow himself is a warning but nothing unhealthy from him in this chapter! Still relatively tame before his true nature unveils itself later on!

Notes: Hi everyone, I'm back from the dead. Just kidding, but yes I am back and definitely inspired to write again now that I have a wee bit of time. My latest addiction as you guessed from above is TBOSAS, and I swear it's so unhealthy for me to crush on villains albeit they're fictional. I have plans for this to be a series of reads with no structured timeline and rather it be snippets of different scenarios that could happen with a OC insert in this universe. Just wanted to get this out of my head and into words so please enjoy this humble writing of mine!

Love, Angstsfordays 🫶🏼

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The first time Coriolanus saw you was when you walked into the classroom on a random Wednesday. It was only halfway into his junior year at the academy and he least expected someone would be able to transfer into the prestigious elite Academy at all.

You were definitely not from the Capitol if you were to enroll into school this late.

"Do you think she's like Plinth?" Coriolanus overheard one of the students' hush whispers to another. A likely possibility- the young Snow thought. You must have come from new money- your family must have somewhat made a huge profit and earned the favour of the Capitol to be able to let their daughter enter the Academy.

Your dark and sleek long hair contrasted with the bright red and blue of the Academy's uniform. Despite the dark colour of your eyes, it shoned brightly with a type of confidence as you took your time to scan the entire class and made sure to stare right into each and one of the students who casting dubious glances at you.

"Now now, hush and let me introduce to you the latest addition to our class." Professor Demigloss spoke with a calm type of excitement.

Giving you a small courteous smile, the professor nudged you to introduce yourself. "My name is Y/N Y/L/N", you curtly answered. The students who heard your last name were even more perplexed at who you could be as they never heard of it before- not even in the latest gossips that the Capitol has to offer.

"Perhaps you lot are more familiar with the name, Carnell." Professor Demigloss then added with slight glee afterwards when your maternal family's name drew the gasps of the entire class. The Carnell family was famous as old legend in Panem- best known to be one of the few significant families who helped contributed to the founding of Panem in its early days. The Carnell family were known for their fearsome military strength and training of great soldiers.

Where was someone like you from such a powerful family hiding all this time? Coriolanus did not recall seeing someone like you during the social parties he attended when he was younger.

"That's my mother's family name. I am Y/N Y/L/N." You explained, more towards the professor than everyone else.

Professor Demigloss who seemed taken aback by your correction gave an awkward smile before nodding. He then informed you that Clemensia would be your student buddy to help you get orientated to the school and asked you to take your seat at the far end of Coriolanus' row.

Coriolanus' eyes followed you as you made your way up the stairs and to your seat with careful steps. Once you settled in your seat and the professor started talking, you felt a pair of eyes on you.

Tilting your head to the left, you saw your so called student buddy, Clemensia and beside her was a boy. A boy with eyes that held the intense gaze that you gave him. There was no animosity, no haughtiness like the rest of the students who looked at you when you first stepped into the room.

You couldn't read him but you were sure he was somewhat different from the rest in the room. Before it felt like it would get weird with the long staring, your eyes quickly flicked over to the professor and your postured leaned forward as if you were interested to listen to the class.

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"No way, someone got a higher score than Snow?!"

"Who is it?!"

"Who is the Academy's new top student now?"

Coriolanus was halfway through his lunch before he started hearing the hurried tones of other students in the cafeteria. Before this, Coriolanus knew that the latest exam scores would be posted around this timing.

As eager as he was to check his scores when they were posted, he wanted to give into his hunger first. He had no doubt that he would be the top scorer for the term. There was just no way else anyone else could have done better than him.

As his ears perked up on the sayings of the cohort of students, his heart dropped for a moment. Someone actually did better than him? The next feeling was adrenaline as he quickly packed up his extra food into his bag before his legs stood up and led the way to the bulletin board.

Term 2's Academic Ranking

Y/N Carnell

Coriolanus Snow

Coriolanus could not believe his eyes. How were you the top student? You haven't even been in this school for more than 3 months and you managed to stand at the top, knocking him to a humiliating second place. The thought of the Plinth's prize leaving his grasp washed over him.

Coriolanus was usually reserved especially in the public eye to maintain the prestige of his family name. But his obsession with perfection especially when it came to his grades were one of the few things that could shook his calm demeanor.

The young Snow turned his head furiously as he felt himself being swarmed by more students. That's when he spotted the wisp of your hair flying and leaving past as you turned around the corner of the hallway.

Coriolanus wormed his way out of the crowd and took long strides to storm his way to you. You were on your way out of the school with your hand on the door handle before you felt a presence behind you. A hand rested above yours on the handle, nudging it against the force of your pull to open and exit the school.

You turned around and was shocked by how close Coriolanus stood behind you as your face met with his chest before your eyes went up to meet his. His eyes were bright with somewhat of a calm rage.

"Shit, what are you doing?!" You said with a false bravado.

The both of you let go of the door while staring at each other in silence briefly. You were waiting for him to speak but when it seemed like he was not going to say anything, you feet started turning towards the door again before Coriolanus spoke. "How?"

"How what?" You spoke in confusion.

"How did you managed to take my spot?" So that's why he decided to stop you from leaving? You scoffed at the pettiness before deciding to give in and answer, hoping Coriolanus would leave you be.

"I just studied." Apparently your answer was not good for him as he continued to rambled on in a fit.

"What do you mean you just studied? You transferred less than 3 months ago, how are you able to catch up with everything?! Your grandfather managed to get a private tutor for you?" As you thought things couldn't get worse, Coriolanus managed to hit a sore spot of yours.

Coriolanus heard from the gossips of the likes of Livia Cardew and Arachne Crane that you were not originally born in the Capitol despite your maternal family's powerful name. You were the product of a tragic fairy tale romance. Your parents' love story was one from the books- the first-born daughter of the highest ranking military commander in Panem falling in love with a talented yet low-birth soldier who had caught the eye of your grandfather for his combat potential during an off-site training in district 7 and personally took him under his tutelage.

When your mother decided to reject an arranged marriage with one of Panem's prestigious families that could bring honor to both families, she did something no one else would expect of a prim and proper Capitol-born and raised lady. She decided to elope with your father and found refuge in a secluded village in District 11.

Your grandpa, embarrassed and outraged decided to disown your mother- not killing her as one last act of mercy being once a daughter of Carnell.

It was not until your grandfather's recent decline in health the past few years made he realised that he could not bear to separate from his precious only daughter and made arrangements for you and your mother to come back to the Capitol.

Your father had unfortunately passed away due to a sudden disease infection in his health a few years prior when you were thirteen. It was an excruciating time for you and your mother as there was no way you could seek proper medical help for him while living in the districts.

After your father's passing , your mother was struggling to provide for both of you so she agreed to come back to the Capitol for your sake when your grandfather reached out. She couldn't bear to see you suffer and wanted you to be able to have the same privileged upbringing she was born into. It was then she decided to move on from the past and accepted your grandfather's offer.

You only agreed for your mother's sake but had disdain that everything was the Capitol and for your grandfather who cold-heartedly threw your mother out. Before allowing you to make your debut into the Capitol, your grandfather hired a home tutor to prepare you enough to enter the Academy on an equal footing as any elite Capitol children.

The grueling and rigorous studying hours in your home study was an unwanted distant memory- you requested for your grandfather to dismiss the private tutor upon your enrollment and assured him you would be able to keep up once you enter the Academy.

"No, I don't have one. I didn't want one." Answering through gritted teeth, you hope that the boy in front of you can just stop.

"Then how?" Growing annoyed at his persistent questions, you decided to tell him the truth.

"I just have a good memory, okay? I can remember a lot of stuffs at once. That's all."

"That's cheating." Rolling your eyes at his pettiness, you folded your arms as you turned away from his annoying yet handsome face.

"It's not like I asked for it! Besides, the exams are not just about memorization but application of theories too. That's something even photographic memory can't help you with!" The stunned expression on Coriolanus face told you even that he had no choice but to agree with the validity of your point.

"Look, I'm sorry I took your spot. I didn't even expect to be at the top. I just want to graduate quietly, I never wanted any of this." Coriolanus grew quiet as he saw how you stared off with a forlorn look.

"Why wouldn't you not want any of this? Wealth and privilege."

"More like chains and scrutiny. He took my freedom away. And now I'm stuck here with a bunch of prissy stuck up kids." The disdain for your grandfather was evident in how you spoke with seething anger. You shot Coriolanus one last look before you walked out of the door.

This was the least expected outcome Coriolanus would have thought of when he decided to approach you. This was also the most that you two have talked ever since you have entered the Academy.

Despite being a new face and not Capitol-born, the Carnell name was too big for any elite to ignore and you soon gained some attention. There were people who admired your social standing and wanted to try to approach you for their own benefit and while some others disdained you for not being born and raised in the Capitol like them but still remained civil to you for your maternal family's namesake.

Coriolanus noticed that you kept to yourself mostly but were able to be friendly to most when approached. He seen you interact with Sejanus (of course of all people) the most- it seems that being district prior was likely the cause of why you were able to bond with him so much. Coriolanus scoffed to himself at the thought and for a moment wondered why that bothered him.

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The next time you both met again was when Coriolanus approached you during lunch. During the class before lunch, Professor Satyria announced for a paired class assignment and the whole class almost went into a frenzy when you and Coriolanus were announced as partners.

"How could you do that professor? They are literally number one and number two in the cohort! Where does that leave us?!" Upon seeing the students' fervent response, Professor Satyria smirked in child-life mischief before forming a wide Cheshire cat smile.

"Yes, I'm very aware and instead of the boring strategy to make them compete one another, I would like to see if the two top students are able to produce something far beyond my expectations!"

An invisible weight was placed on Coriolanus shoulders' at his professors words. He was her favourite student after and he did not want to disappoint her, furthermore with her expectations being set so high, the desire to meet it has caused the pressure to increased tenfold.

He hated group projects, knowing that if others failed to play their part, the brilliance of what he could create be diminished. But perhaps, if it was you- another fellow academic who has shown to be on par on his level, it could be different.

Coriolanus then decided that he needed to speak with you immediately to discuss the assignment and decided to do so during lunch. Where were you? He had never seen you once at the cafeteria during lunch.

Coriolanus then decided to approach Sejanus as much as his pride didn't want him to- figuring that if there was anyone who had a clue about where you were, it was the boy who shared a similar upbringing as you.

Sejanus figured that Coriolanus would have wanted to find you regarding the assignment and gave away your secret lunch spot. Under a tree with bright red leaves also known as the 'Burning ash', Coriolanus spotted you at the small table that was placed near the tree.

As he got closer, Coriolanus found himself feeling envious when greeted by the sight of the extravagant packed lunch that you had brought from home.

"That seems nice." He started off with a compliment to warm you up. You looked up at him with surprised doe eyes before quickly switching them to one that was guarded. He recalled that both of your last encounter with each other was far from pleasant and started to feel nervous at the thought.

"Hmm, abit too much." You brushed off his compliment as you continued to open up the different compartments of the boxes.

"The cafeteria food is actually pretty good so why...." Coriolanus tried to continue the conversation. To his surprise, you were not curt in your response and went on to explain in detail.

"My grandfather has an irrational fear of food poisoning from his warring days so he does not trust any food prepared by outsiders. He even has his own poison taster...." Rolling your eyes while continuing your explanation, you also can't help but to notice how the boy opposite you was looking at your food.

"Well, he passed his fear onto his family and does not allow us to eat any food prepared by anyone else other than our house chef unless we have a poison taster around." You continued explaining with a quirked smile as you thought about how dramatic your strict grandfather could be. Coriolanus then decided to pull out a cookie from his bag and into his mouth.

"Doesn't seem like this is poisoned." He spoke through muffled bites.

"Give it ten seconds." You quipped back playfully before Coriolanus started pretending to cough and gagged which caught you off guard. When he started to grin at your reaction, you couldn't help a smile forming on your face at the lame joke he tried to pull.

Searching for the extra spoon that was packed into your lunch to Coriolanus, you offered it to the boy in front of you. "Would you like to have some? I can't finish possibly all of them."

"Oh no- I couldn't-"

"Please. I happen to see food peeking out from your bag a couple of times. I don't know the reason but please- really. This is all too much for me and I hate to see food go to waste." At first, Coriolanus was embarrassed to hear that you have caught him in his act but it quickly turned to something else as your last statement stroke an emotional cord with Coriolanus.

You recommended for him to try the soup and your heart tightened with some warmth when you see Coriolanus taking more mouthfuls of soup. He usually had a cool facade so seeing him with such a light and boyish expression made you felt some sort of way.

The soup he had was one of the best food he had in awhile but before he could continue in his indulgence, he was then alerted about the statement you made earlier- about seeing the food that he would pack from lunch in his bag. How long have you been noticing it?

It would have been terrible if anyone else in the school knew about it and spread gossip. The fact that you knew and just kept it to yourself- Coriolanus' view of you have now moved to one in a positive light.

The two of you ate quietly without exchanging much words and instead reveled in the comforting of each other's company. The dynamics of your relationship started to change from this simple lunch onwards and the two of you started to spend more time togther.

Coriolanus and you ended up presenting the best assignment in the history of the Academy which solidified both of your reputations in the entire school. Despite being district born and raised, you definitely proven that you had 'Capitol blood' in you with your outstanding results and other students did best to not underestimate you anymore.

Coriolanus once again regained his standing as the top student the following term and both of you took turns to reclaim the top spot in a friendly competition. He gladly acknowledged you as someone who was worthy to be his academic rival and friend at the same time and would even be sincerely happy for you when your name came out on top.

The two of you always spent lunch together under the Burning Ash tree. You purposely asked for a bigger lunch to be prepared for yourself so that you could always share it with him. Sometimes you even got him to bring the extra food home too. Seeing him eating well made you feel some sort of indescribable contentment and even though he has not shared why he was always hiding and keeping food in his bag, you did not pry.

Coriolanus was grateful for this and he felt that one day, he would eventually want to share his deepest secrets that no one else knew with you.

The other students presumed that the two of you were always hanging out with each other because of the assignment that Professor Satyria gave but when the two of you continued to stay around each other after the assignment- people began to speculate especially when a guy and girl seems to be around each other most of the time.

While on the way to the restroom one day, Coriolanus was just about to open the door when he heard two boys talking about you from the inside.

"You think Y/N is together with Snow?" The first voice sounds like it belonged to Festus Creed.

"Tough to say, I mean she does talk to other guys but they're always having lunch I heard. But they don't seem like they're actually together you know?" The next voice belonged to another classmate, Apollo Ring.

"I think I'm going to ask her out." Festus spoke with an affirmative tone.

"Really? Since when do you like her?" Besides Apollo, Coriolanus also shared the same surprise upon Festus' declaration. Coriolanus inched his way closer to the door without giving away that he was there to listen in to the two boys' conversations.

"I wasn't sure about her being from the district before but she kind of proved everyone wrong at the Academy with how intelligent she is. Besides, she's way more likeable than girls like Cardew and Crane. And she's really pretty too especially when she smiles."

"You sound like you're in love already. You really think you have a chance with her? Forget Snow, her grandpa is Chief Commander Carnell." Apollo snickered at his friend who sounded like he was in a dreamy state. A gnawing feeling creeped inside Coriolanus' chest as he thought about the possibility of you going out with Festus.

Sure, Festus was an alright guy but was he worthy of you? You are afterall the only granddaughter of the Carnell family. Fester hit the nail on the head alright, you are not just beautiful but smart and likeable too. Besides the obvious attention you would get from guys, Coriolanus heard the whispers of envious girls who wanted to be like you which in itself showed how charming you were to everyone.

"You never know if you don't try, right?" Festus' voice brought Coriolanus out of his thoughts as he realised the door was opening. He was then met with the stunned faces of Fester and Apollo who were surprised to see Coriolanus at the other side of the door.

Giving a look of acknowledgment, Coriolanus pretended to be aloof and just walked past the two boys to use the restroom. As the door closed and he was left alone, Coriolanus looked up to see himself in the mirror. He felt himself feeling warm and his hand reached over to clutched the fabric that was covering where his heart would be.

What was this emotion he was feeling? He did not absolutely wanted to lose you to anyone else. Just imagining you directing your smile, the one where you would shyly look down before looking up like a ray of sunshine- at someone else but him would kill him.

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Coriolanus was waiting outside the school for you so that you could take a short walk out before heading your separate ways home. As Coriolanus fiddled with the compass that belonged to his dad to pass the time, his instinct told him to look up and that's when he saw you stopped in your tracks by Fester.

It looked like Fester was making an attempt to swoon you as he animatedly spoke which caused you to give a pleasant smile in return. As the wind blew and your let down hair started swirling in the air, Coriolanus' breath was taken away for a short moment before it stopped short seeing Fester reaching over to tuck a strand behind your ear.

Coriolanus could see the minute flinch you made upon the sudden contact. He was not going to allow any of Fester's forlorn wish to happen and took it upon himself to stride up the long steps to where you stood.

"Y/N, there you are!" Whipping your head to Coriolanus' voice, a sense of relief washed over you at his entrance.

Just a minute ago, Festus came up to you as you were leaving the school. He mentioned that he did pretty badly in the last term assignment and was wondering if you could tutor him given that you were the top student for the subject. You were actually considering it, thinking that there was no harm.

When you first came to the Academy, you were sure to hate it knowing that it was only open to children of the most elite families in the Capitol. You knew that most of the students had a privileged upbringing and tend to be quite stuck up, specially to someone like you were originally from the district despite coming from a prominent family.

You did noticed how the students pretended to be civil to Sejanus but spoke ill of him once his back was turned afterall. You were sure that you were subjected to the same treatment but was fortunate that it didn't happen thanks to how fearsome your grandfather's reputation and name could be.

You did however find that some of the students were still pleasant such as your Clemmie, Sejanus, the Ring twins, Lysistrata and the likes. Your mind then went to Coryo (as you now called him by his request) and a small smile quirked at the thought of him.

You were sure that he was the last person you had expected to be close friends with. You knew he was a studious person and he always appeared to calm and reserved, although when he spoke- you felt a sense of charisma and wit that distinguished him from the rest.

When he had came up to confront you about knocking off the podium for last term's grades, you thought he was a sore loser but when he then approached you again for the paired assignment, he showed another side to himself.

A more vulnerable and boyish side to him that allowed you to open up to him and that's the Coryo that you find yourself drawn to. The side of him he hardly shown to anyone else but you, at least that's what you think.

Coryo's voice woke you out of your thoughts as he spoke once more. "Hey, we should get going if we don't want to be late."

"Oh, late for what?" Fester asked curiously and your mind scrambled for an answer.

"Uhm, for something." You realised that this was not going well when Fester tilted his head to the side in confusion. Turning to Coryo for help, he tapped his fingers on the book he was holding and you immediately got the hint.

"I mean, Coryo and I had study plans together."

"Oh can I join?" Stumped by Fester's persistence, you looked back at Coryo who looked almost irritated. Coriolanus then slid his hand over your shoulder and took an inch closer to you. Your ears started turning red and your heart started to race uncontrollably at the contact. Why was your body reacting like this?

"This is something that Y/N and I had already planned together." Fester was not dumb as he saw how Coriolanus was looking at him right now.

"Oh is that right? Perhaps next time, Y/N?" Fester tried his luck on you seeing how you were the one not showing any hostility towards him.

You opened your mouth wanting to answer but nothing came to your mind. Seeing as you did not know how to reject the poor boy, Coryo slid his hand down from your shoulder to your hand and interlocked your fingers together.

Before you could comprehend what he was doing, Coryo pulled you forward to follow him as he almost leaped down the stairs and he turned back to you with an unknown look.

"We're going to be late." He spoke and you then nodded along before turning back to a confused Fester. "Sorry Fester, we're going to be late!" You echoed as you followed behind Coryo.

Not caring about Fester's response, you turned back to see Coryo looking at you with a cheeky grin and you returned one in same. Coryo looked down to your intertwined hands and then back up to your smile that looked like it could compete with the Sun.

Before I held you, I didn’t know that the world I was in was this bright.

"Yes, that's right. Only smile like this for me, Y/N. No one else."

Coriolanus thought to himself as he tightened the grip of your small hand in his.

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What do you think? Let me know in the comments! 😆

#angstsfordays #i will go to you like the first snow #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #ballad of songbirds and snakes

[woogigi]

i had an idea. ITS LIKE A LIGHTBULB WENT OFF IN MY HEAD. soy is like a producer, right right so she'd be familiar with recording and editing and whatever. so im thinking yuqi overstims her in the studio w/ a strap and whatever else she has, and records soy's voice /evil laugh/

-Sorry you had to wait so long but here it is!!

Studio Sessions

Warnings: Dildos, fingerings, vibrators, overstimulating, multiple orgasms, mentions of gp

Soyeon was ignoring her messages, again

To say Yuqi was angry was an understatement. She was practically steaming at this point. She'd had a frustrating day herself and Soyeon said she would be home today. But of course the older lost track of time and was probably working on something in her studio.

An idea came to mind as Yuqi dug through their closet and found a bag. A small black duffel bag. One that held their favourite toys inside. She grabbed it and left the room and then the apartment. Making her way to Soyeons studio determined to teach the older a lesson.

Soyeon could barely react when Yuqi stormed in. Cheeks red from frustration and her lips twisted in a sneer that was far from happy.

"Yuqi?"

Yuqi walked forward and Soyeon inched back in her chair as Yuqi flopped onto the couch and crossed her arms. Staying silent as she stared at Soyeon. As if she was waiting for the older to say something.

Soyeon frowned in confusion and tried to sit up straight as she asked the puppy whats wrong.

Yuqi kept quiet as she kept staring.

Uneasiness swept through Soyeon as she could no longer hold direct eye contact with the younger.

"We were supposed to spend the night together and again you're here."

"I'm sorry, woogs but I'm almost finished I promise. I have a deadline coming up and I just want to get this done."

Yuqi stood and walked up to Soyeon. Standing between the olders legs as her wide eyes stared up at her.

"The deadline is in three weeks. You have more than enough time," Yuqi said as she cupped Soyeon's cheek.

The older leaned into the warmth but was still confused. Yuqi looked calmer now but there was a stern tone in her voice and the older knew that was never good.

"So, seeing as you can't seem to tear yourself away from your computer," soyeon tried to interject but Yuqi clamped her hand over her mouth to silence her, "I think I'll have to teach you a lesson. Maybe even give you some inspiration. Right, baby?"

Soyeon nodded barely registering anything with how hot Yuqi looked right now and wanted nothing more than to do whatever she said.

xxx

Soyeon could feel the tears threatening to spill as she felt her legs turn to jelly while her girlfriend laughed. Soyeon moaned loudly without meaning to as her body tried to relax after her intense orgasm.

Yuqi said she would teach her a lesson and she definitely was. Soyeon could barely feel her legs. Her back also numb from lying on a desk with a recording microphone right next to her. Taking in all the sounds she was making.

The younger seemed to be enjoying the humiliation of the leader as she played back the lewd noises she was recording. Soyeon wanted to feel embarrassed but Yuqi would play them the same time she'd use her favorite vibrator on her or Soyeon would feel the intrusion of Yuqi's fingers. Switching between toys as if to see which one could make her cum faster and scream louder.

Soyeon sighed when Yuqi stepped back but knew the heavenly torture wasn't over yet. She watched with hazy eyes as Yuqi took off her jeans and panties finally leaving her just as exposed as her girlfriend. She almost held back a moan when she saw what Yuqi got from the bag.

Noticing her approval, Yuqi smirked.

"I saved the best for last."

Soyeon closed her eyes and turned her head from the microphone. She hated how hot it was making her. The embarrassment of being recorded like this and knowing Yuqi she was probably saving it to some drive only she could get into.

She felt Yuqi's hand on her thigh as she went to stand between Soyeon's legs. Smiling at how fucked out the older looked. Yuqi teased her folds with the tip of the dildo laughing at how Soyeon grinned down wanting more

"You still want more after all that?" She wanted to mess with the older a little, "i thought you had so much work to get done but look at you letting me fuck you for hours. Begging for more."

Soyeon groaned barely able to get a response out but could feel the heat pooling between her legs as she waited for Yuqi to move. The youngers hands were pressed into her hips as she continuously teased Soyeon.

"Its okay baby, I'll give you what you want. You've been such a good girl for me. Letting me use you however I want."

Yuqi slid Soyeon down more in the desk as she lifted her hips. Impaling her and chuckling at the breathy scream Soyeon let out. It was moments like these where Yuqi wished it was really her inside the older. Feeling the ways her walls clench around her already so close to orgasm. Fucking her until Yuqi's stuffing her full of cum as she makes her, her own.

Those thoughts drive Yuqi as she thrusted harder and faster making Soyeon tip over the edge. Despite seeing her orgasm Yuqi kept going. Throwing Soyeon into a state of want but also the need for the younger to slow down. She wanted to ride out her orgasm but with the way Yuqi was fucking into her she knew she would reach that high again and soon. Her body had been overstimulated so much over the last couple of hours that she knew she was barely lasting.

Yuqi slowed down after Soyeon came a second time and kissed her through it. Leaving soft kisses down her cheek and neck. Showing how much she cared and giving Soyeon the soft attention she needed after the session they just had.

Soyeon checked the microphone to see it had fallen to the floor. Gasping seeing it had broken and feeling slightly embarrassed realising what happened.

"Yeah I think you'll need a new one," Yuqi chimed in after seeing where Soyeon was looking.

Soyeon started laughing and pulled Yuqi in for another kiss. Pushing her tongue past the youngers lips, tasting her.

Yuqi pulled back with a smile, "I'll have to keep going if you kiss me like that again."

Soyeon smirked as she pulled Yuqi in close again, "I wouldn't mind if you did."

#gidle smut #yuyeon smut #yuyeon #soyeon smut #yuqi smut #smut #gidle #gidle yuyeon #g idle smut #anons ask

[futbol16]

The other Williamson •  Leah Williamson

Request: "Can we please have a Leah x younger sister, where she’s kinda been living in Leah’s shadow and she feels like its never enough 🥺 On her birthday they have an important day so Leah, her family and most of the girls unintentionally forgot her special day. However, they don’t find out until she gets badly injured on the pitch and in the ambulance Leah is with her of course not leaving her sisters side they ask for her date of birth and it all comes crashing down for Leah. Keira and Lucy were also with her in the ambulance and they all try to console Leah, Keira feelings horrible as well since Y/N had been her best friend since U-11’s"

Word count: 1,8k

Growing up as Y/n Williamson was awesome. You got a cool older sister, a sweet younger brother and the three of you could play football together growing up.

Being Y/N Williamson had been awesome until it no longer was. Because Y/n Williamson was just the little sister of Leah Williamson, captain Leah Williamson. The 25 year old that captained England to the Euro’s and won the tournament. Ever since then, being Y/n Williamson hadn’t been too awesome.

Although you had been one of the top goal scorers for England, even before the Euro’s, it wasn’t the same as captaining the team to Europe’s biggest tournament. And people made sure to let you know that. It wasn’t like you didn’t know, Y/N would come second and Y/N would rarely get asked about anything else that’s not her sister in interviews.

You knew the routine by now.

 You thought maybe it would be different today, on your day. 22 years ago was when you first saw the light of the day, November the 15th. Leah had always gone all out for your birthdays, claiming that she had to be the best sister and what better way to prove that to you than spoiling you on your birthday? 

However, that didn’t seem to be the case this year. You woke up alone, your roommate had already gone down for breakfast and even as you entered the cafeteria no one even spared a glance at you. It was weird seeing as most of the time everyone would be buzzing on a teammate’s birthday, but you chalked it up to it being a matchday, an important matchday against Norway.

You sat next to Keira in silence, she had been your closest friend growing up despite her and Leah being closer in age. Your best friend was focused on the match ahead and didn’t even look up from her plate. Nothing different there, maybe you were just making up things.

But as you turn on your phone and see no messages, you start to get more confused. Usually your mum or Jacob would be the first people to wish you a happy birthday, but nothing. You shrugged at it, they were probably still sleeping…at 9am on a Tuesday.

Later as you sit in the locker room you start questioning yourself. Did they forget? Or maybe they’re just too focused on the match? Yeah, that’s definitely it.

“Hey, what’s the date today?” Georgia is the one asking the question and for a second you look up, curious as to what was going to happen next. 

“The 15th mate, already forgot?” Your sister asks with a chuckle.

“Oh alright then. Thought my flight back was on the 15th but I guess nothing too important today.” the girl chuckles with a shake of her head. 

There it is, confirmed. Your best friends have totally forgotten that it’s your birthday. Ouch.

Heading out for warmups before the match, you pass by Anthony, one of the media guys and you smile at him politely.

“Big day, no Y/N?” he asks, camera in his hand recording you. 

“Yeah yeah, big one.” you answer rather confused as to what he was hinting at.

“Happy birthday Y/N! Number 22.” he cheers and you laugh at his antic, although surprised that he knew. 

“Thank you, see you later Antonio!” you wave at him.

“The name’s Anthony.” he laughs at you.

The match had been intense with almost equal possession of the ball, though your team had been off to a great start as you assisted Rachel to a goal in the 33rd minute.

The girls thought it would stay that way, and it did, for a good bit. Until you went down in the 79th minute of the match. A rough tackle that ended with you groaning into the grass beneath you, arm cradled close to your chest and a heavy pounding in your head.

With you on the ground and no one to match the speed of the Norwegians, Frida Manuum scores in the 80th minute, equalizing. 

Yet it’s the least of Leah’s concern as she kneels next to you, closely followed by Keira kneeling on your other side. The two girls try to get you to turn on your back, but as you make no move to do so, they gently turn you over themselves.

The first thing you hear is your sister’s gasp, the first thing you see though is the face Keira makes as she looks down at your arm. Mhmm, so this was more than just an ‘I fell on it and it’s bruising’ kind of hurt. 

Your sister starts talking and you’re trying so hard to focus, to only focus on her even as the medical team arrives and places you on a stretcher, but it’s no use because suddenly, or actually rather slowly the world around you turns black. 

“She’s down!” one of the medic yells frantically, it was never good if a player fell unconscious after a tackle. Your team can barely blink before you’re lifted off the field and into the back of an ambulance standing at the side of the pitch. 

Leah’s heart is beating out of her chest, she has no clue what to do. She wants to go with you, not leave her little sister alone in pain, but she also had a match to play, a match with 10 more minutes left on the clock.

Keira’s shouting breaks her out of her thoughts and she follows the girl as she pulls her along to where Sarina stands with one of the Ambulance people. They’re both ordered to go with you in the Ambulance, Lucy following the two.

The team would be fine, they had a bunch of new players waiting to make their debut. The three of them had more important things to do though.

They sit in the back of the ambulance, next to where you’re laying. It’s a bit stuffed with all three of them sitting there and the EMT guy as well. You’ve got a mask on your face, breathing in some painkillers.

“Y/N Williamson, right?” he asks them, the three nod.

“Female, 21…date of birth?” he asks, looking up from his clipboard.

“November 15th, 2000.” Leah answers instantly, hand resting on the forearm of your good arm.

“Ahh, so 22 years old then? Not the best birthday I suppose.” the man chuckles humorlessly. Leah’s head snaps at him, mouth parted slightly.

No, no this couldn’t be it, it wasn’t your birthday today. There’s simply no way she could have forgotten. She looks at the other two and her heart breaks as Lucy nods in confirmation.

She had forgotten her little sister's birthday. 

Head in her hands, she stares at your face, disappointed in herself and sorry for you.

“Leah, we all forgot. It’s okay, she’ll understand.” Lucy tries to comfort her, but it’s no use.

“Yeah but I’m her sister, I should know!” she replies, frustratedly smacking her knee. She's so glad the EMT guy decides to stay out of this. Lucy is taken aback a bit, but she recovers quickly.

“Oh god, I completely ignored her today too.” Keira mumbles sadly, reaching out to stroke her thumb over your forehead. You had been her best friend since you were 7. Well you were 7 and she was 9, the two of you in the U-11 team. That’s where you first met, it’s where the two of you had become the best of friends, going strong ever since. Keira doesn’t think she’s ever felt as bad as she does now.

The rest of the ride to the hospital is spent in silence, the two women closest to you sitting with frowns on their faces as Lucy attempts to console the two as best as she can.

They sit in the waiting room as your arm is put into a cast and you get something for your head. Leah hasn’t said a word since the nurses have taken you away, she has sat in complete silence for the past hour. Elbows on her knees, chin resting on her fist and that aggressive furrow of her eyebrows apparent on her face. 

Keira shoots up from her seat in surprise when you walk out alone, blue cast on your right arm and kept in a sling. She’s quick to pull you into a tight hug, muttering apologies to you, only feeling worse when you keep reassuring her that it was okay. 

“Kei, it’s fine, I promise.” you tell her sincerely as you hold onto her.

“How can I make it up to you?” a tiny smile makes its way onto your face, knowing she won’t give up.

“Chicken nuggets?” the two of you laugh before you’re embraced by Lucy. You find comfort in the older woman’s neck.

“You better have my autograph on that by tonight!” she jokes referring to your cast, and you’re glad you get to laugh after the events of the day.

Leah is standing behind them, unsure what to do as she questions whether you’d be too upset with her. All those thoughts vanish though as you walk towards her with a silly smile.

“Blue’s my favorite color so I begged them to get me that one, they had to take it from a baby.” you giggle as you tell her the story but you soon stop as you realize she’s not laughing with you. “Lee?”

She clenches her jaw, eyes watering. 

“Gosh Y/N, I’m so sorry.” she starts rambling, something you’ve gotten very used to over the years of growing up together, but you stop her from continuing. 

“I know, Leah. It happens -”

“But it shouldn’t!” she cuts you off, that scowl she wore in the ambulance reappearing. You take her by the hand.

“And it never has before, you were just too focused on the match today. It is okay, Lee.” you nod at her, relieved when she nods back, pulling you into her. You eventually part as you realize you still haven’t moved from the hospital waiting room and you’d very much like to leave this facility as soon as possible.

“So how about those chicken nuggets? I could eat some right now.” you comment as the four of you walk out the door, the other three laughing at the grin you have.

Being Leah Williamson’s sister might not always be too awesome with the media,, but you would be fine as long as you had your big sister with you. To her, you’d always be the number 1 Williamson.

#woso one shot #woso imagine #woso x reader #futbol16 #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson x reader #keira walsh x reader #england lionesses x reader

[omgthatdress]

Everything I know about the royals comes from Tumblr memes and one bonus episode of a totally unrelated podcast but now I'm morbidly curious, so: what's up with William? And the Middletons? Or if that's a longer story than you want to explain, do you have recommendations for where to read about this that is likely to be fairly accurate?

I don't have any facts I just have pure fucking speculation if that's okay. :)

Like I've been saying for a long-ass time the one thing I absolutely LOVED about The Crown was its portrayal of generational trauma. It very skillfully showed how being a shitty husband who cheats on his wife and treats his kids like garbage was passed down from Prince Andrew of Greece and Denmark to Prince Phillip, Duke of Edinburgh to King Charles and then to Prince William. Hell, it probably started long before that but holy shit THE CYCLE OF DYSFUNCTION AND ABUSE BE REPEATING ITSELF.

And if you really want to dig into it, well.... I think he and Harry followed a pattern that a LOT of siblings of bitter and messy divorce fall into, one kid sides with the mom, one with the dad. It's been said a LOT that Harry was Diana's favorite son, so it probably started with that. And OF COURSE William is gonna side with Charles because well... he's the heir. They have that shared trauma.

And then there's the way the whole "heir and spare" thing absolutely perverts any relationship they might have had as brothers. Charles managed to have a decent relationship with his siblings, I think, because first of all, Anne was a girl, and then Andrew and Edward were significantly younger than him and Anne, so there wasn't this unnaturally massive imbalance of power between them. One of the reasons I've come to believe the monarchy should be abolished is because of how badly it damages the structure of a family in a way that no one should have to deal with.

I think Diana might have been able to guide William into being a better person if she'd have lived, but idk. It may be wishful thinking. His relationship with her became kind of strained when he was a teenager and she was going on TV to tell the whole fucking world about her sex life. I think Diana did the right thing exposing the family like she did, but I can also understand how a 13 year old boy would be absolutely humiliated by that.

THEN there's the whole way he was a MASSIVE heartthrob as a teenager, and was intensely sexualized for it. Like it will absolutely mess with you when you have girls screaming and throwing themselves at you when you're still trying to figure your own sexuality out. It will also massively inflate your ego and convince you that the whole world loves you and there's nothing you can do wrong.

SOOOOOO

as for his relationship with Kate. She's much harder to pin down because she hasn't spent her entire fucking life in the spotlight, and the Middletons are sill granted a certain degree of privacy that the Windsors aren't. I don't think they're as absolutely fucked up as Diana's family was but I still definitely think her mom was a major driving force behind her staying with William.

I think there actually was some initial mutual attraction and that they may have even actually been in love. Buuuut then he waited ten years to propose to her, during which he cheated and they broke up and got back together. Honestly, I don't know what Kate's damage was with all of that, whether or not she was able to convince herself that William wouldn't be another shitty husband, or if she was willing to put up with his bullshit if it meant she would be queen.

Diana was more or less picked out as a bride for Charles because it was assumed that she would be a meek and beautiful wifey who never caused any problems. I mean, she was 19 and he was 32 for fuck's sake. She very much wanted to be queen. BUT what everyone wasn't counting on was that Diana would *gasp* have some serious emotional needs. She was deeply traumatized by her own parents' incredibly bitter divorce, overwhelmed and deeply lonely in her position as princess, and on top of that, suffering from bulimia and then post-natal depression. She needed love and support and Charles spent the whole marriage balls deep in Camilla.

Kate had a much more stable upbringing and had more than a few months to get to know both William and what her role as a princess would be. Ultimately, the vibe I get from her is that she's willing to be the perfect meek beautiful wifey who puts up with William's bullshit if it means she can be royal, which is exactly what Diana was supposed to be.

And I don't mean that to knock or belittle her. She's good at it. She looks incredibly happy when she's doing that. It's her career. It's an exchange I can actually really understand making, especially when your only other prospects involved working for your parents' party company.

But I could be extremely wrong about all of this Maybe she's absolutely miserable but she feels like she has no other options and worried about losing her kids and is terrified of what happened to Diana. It's hard to know, and I wish The Crown would have at least committed to *something* rather than just brushing all of this off.

[ohwhataniight]

more than the world can contain - Chapter 4: A Scandal in Belgravia

Part 2

J

If I had a therapist, she would note down yet another trigger in my list of traumas: swimming pools. The smell of chlorine. Semtex. Although I am fairly certain that having a phobia of deadly explosives should be considered the picture of good mental health. Anyway, I don't currently have a therapist. But, on second thought, maybe I should reconsider.

Because my flatmate is complete bonkers, and I have to deal with his antics every day.

I’ve only managed to get what feels like two hours of blissfully dreamless, uninterrupted, Xanax-induced sleep, after we return to Baker Street, before I wake up with a scream.

The reason I'm screaming is that Sherlock is awake and hovering over me, watching me sleep, his pale blue eyes glinting in the dark as the lights from the street catch them in their stride through the windows. He’s staring intensely at my face, brow furrowed, as if he's trying to decipher some code. He’s wearing a look I became acquainted to for the first time tonight: uncertainty, with an unusual tinge of vulnerability. Once again in this night that feels like a century, he looks much younger than he is.

“What on our-planet-that-orbits-the-sun are you doing?” I hear myself mumbling as I rub my eye with the heel of one hand, and even I’m surprised with my own eloquence at this ungodly time of the night, after a near-death experience. It’s then when I register the slight pressure of cold fingers on my other wrist. “Your hands are cold, you look like a vampire, you act like a vampire. Is there anything you need to tell me, Sherlock?”

“Nope, nothing,” he pops his p quite dramatically, drops my hand on the frame my bed rather gracelessly (this is going to bruise later) and throws himself up, walks away, silk blue robe swishing around him.

I sit up and my eyes slowly get accustomed to the darkness of the room. “Sherlock,” I demand, cutting him dead as his tracks by the door. “You were taking my pulse,” it sounds like an accusation. “In the middle of the night.”

“Nothing to worry about, all seems normal.”

“Yes, but why were you taking my pulse?”

“It’s for an experiment.”

I’m still faced with his back. “Listen,” I say. “There’s no need to be worried. I’m alive, and I'm home, thanks to an uncharacteristic stroke of luck. And, well, you.”

A breath hovers in the empty space between us for a second. “You've got your answer, John,” he eventually exhales, still refusing to turn around and face me. "Not the one you want, maybe, but definitely the one you need."

“What answer? Sherlock, why do you have to be all enigmatic? It’s bloody 3 in the morning, you’re allowed to take a break, y'know?” I stand up from my bed, barefoot on the carpetted floor, infuriated.

Finally, he turns around. Be careful what you wish for, Johnny, I think, because his gaze is burning through me. It's pretty intense, disarming. Especially considering everything that’s taken residence in my mind during the past couple of days.

“You have been wondering whether I am capable of human emotion for a while now. Whether I care,” he almost spits the word. “Well, John, tonight you have observed it’s in your best interests if I don’t. I hope that explains my usual... disposition. Now, go back to sleep. You are still in shock.”

“And you aren’t?”

He doesn’t respond. Just stares at me. Then, “why would I be?”

I take a few steps, closing the distance between us. My heart is thrumming like a caged bird and I want to extend my hand, touch him, comfort him. But this isn’t how Sherlock Holmes works. ��We are all bound to lose people we care about in our lifetimes, Sherlock,” I eventually resort to say, realizing I’m feeling slightly dizzy - the shock, the benzo, his stare. That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t. Care. I mean.”

More seconds pass. They eavesdrop, they dance in the room, its air thick with our scents (sleep, leather, upholstery, sweat, whiskey?) My flatmate remains unmoving, the bloody vampire. “Right,” he says eventually, before turning around again. “Goodnight, John.”

During the following days, we become... closer. It’s strange to observe, even stranger to feel. I find Sherlock doing our laundry one morning. It’s almost endearing, even though my white jumper is now bright pink after being washed with his aubergine shirt. He even makes me toast a couple of times, makes sure I’m always properly nourished. I don’t catch him checking my vitals again, to my slight disappointment, as I realize with a feeling of dread one day. But I remain feeling quite touched. If not a bit flattered.

Also, my blog is booming. He develops a habit of mocking my titles, but even though he’s the king of banter, I am the writer in this equation. I make him internet famous, he makes me tea. Deep down, I know we both like it.

One night about a week later, I’m at a medical conference in Dublin, I’ve had a couple of beers, and I’m flirting with a beautiful brunette. An oncologist. She’s brilliant and sexy. I think her name’s Sue? And then the facetime app on my phone starts ringing. I’ve been ignoring Sherlock’s increasingly urgent texts all night. They ranged from “John, are you up?” and “I need your insight on the comic book case” to “Pick up John it is a matter of life and death”.

“I’m sorry, I need to get this,” I sigh, and Sophia (?) looks frustrated. My knees wobbles as I try to stand up from the bar stool and it takes a while for my feet to get accustomed to the floor again. “What do you want?” I hiss at the camera after picking up.

“The printer, John, it’s all in the printer. I need you to find out the model of the printer, quickly.” He looks... naked, wrapped in a white sheet, in what seems like his bed. My flatmate texts me “u up” when I’m away, and then facetimes me from his bed in nothing but a sheet. No wonder people talk.

“I’ve met someone, Sherlock,” I whisper-shout, walking out of the pub and the cold Dublin air slaps me in the face. “It was going very well until you rudely interrupted us...”

“Don’t tell me you’re not in the least bit excited to hear my brilliant deductions, then write all about it in your little blog...”

“I’ve met someone, as I just told you. The world doesn’t revolve around you...”

“I don’t think that the world revolves around me,” he says, looking terribly offended. “Although admittedly it would make much more sense if it did...”

“Come on, Sherlock,” I chuckle at the camera. “I see how you dress, flamboyance is your middle name, and you love an audience. Need I remind you that my first role in your turbulent life was that of a skull on the mantelpiece?”

“You’ve evolved since then.”

I’m left gaping incredulously at the level of his audacity. “Well, ta.”

“Anyway, John, contrary to your assumptions about my person, and despite the fact that I still do think you would profit profoundly from an introduction to the joys of custom-tailored trousers, I don’t care what people think.”

I hear myself giggling in the middle of the pavement as people less drunk than I am pass by, chatting merrily. The buzz of the city makes me somewhat giddy too. “Prove it.”

“How?”

“Wear what you’re wearing now during our next case.”

“What do I get if I do that?”

“You see, you don't have the balls to do that...”

“What do I get?”

“My acknowledgment and utmost respect.”

He rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. “Dull.”

“Okay, okay,” I chuckle again. “I’ll buy us dinner. Wherever you want.”

“Cafe Royal?”

“Cafe Royal.”

“Fine,” a wide smile spreads on his face. It’s endearing, really.

When I return inside, Susannah is unfortunately nowhere to be seen.

*

Sherlock, please tell me you’re not currently headed where I’ve just been informed I’m headed wearing that sheet. I was drunk last night when I dared you.

Reservation for two at the Cafe Royal at eight. See you soon. SH

And God save Her, of course. SH

To be continued...

#sherlock holmes #john watson #johnlock #bbc sherlock #johnlock fanfiction #johnlock fic #sherlock #fanfiction #queer

[ask-gikabi]

What would happen if Kirby and Meta met their ageswap counterparts? (with all the alt versions kirby has met its not that unlikely)

It’s not the first dubious portal that Astra has gone through, and certainly won’t be the last. The first thing that awaits him on the other side, though, is a splitting image of his past, bubbly and curious and friendly. The masked knight that stands behind him can only be one person, though, and Astra concludes quickly that this could not be time travel.

Conversations are had, and when both sides confirm that there is no active threat to handle, both settle down some.

Character thoughts about each other in the read more :)

Meta about Kirby

Meta is older than he looks, and more perceptive than his young appearance would imply. He’s always known that Sir Kirby, Sir Astra Knight, though never wearing a metal mask, still hid behind a concealment of sorts. Sir Kirby’s smile was practiced, never disappearing. For sure, there were some times when it varied with Sir Kirby’s own emotions, but it never left.

Kirby, young Kirby, smiles like the sun. Meta has never seen such a bright smile in his life— not on any planet he has been sent to, and definitely not on GSA headquarters. There is something pure and intense about it, in a way that Sir Astra Knight Kirby cannot match. Meta wonders if once upon a time, Sir Kirby smiled like this, but knows his answer already.

Meta Knight about Astra Knight and Meta

It’s eerie to see his own face so open, and his own emotions laid bare so easily. Meta Knight sees the glints of little colors decorating his younger self’s eyes and thinks, this is what could have been. Meta Knight did not even know that his eyes changed color until long after he had retreated to Popstar and taken leave from the GSA, when he woke up from a nightmare and found his eyes stained glowing blue and red, so far from his usual calm yellow.

Meta Knight remembers his first centuries being constant training. He remembers growing wings and being sent to the battlefield, he remembers loss after loss, he remembers shame and guilt and sorrow. He remembers the smell of lightning and the intense vertigo and desire to vomit as he stared down at the sword in his hand.

Meta Knight has had many friends, but never a mentor— he was always too prodigious to be taught much. Now he knows that knowledge and training were not what he needed from a teacher.

Kirby, Astra Knight, has broad shoulders and a kind guiding hand. Sir Astra Knight is so much like the Kirby he knows and yet so different, so powerful, so assured and protective. Meta Knight takes one look at Sir Astra Knight’s unmasked blue eyes and knows that Sir Astra Knight has suffered, perhaps not like he himself has, but still. There is a solidarity between them, as mentors; an unspoken promise and an insurmountable gratitude to each other.

“Thank you for saving him,” Meta Knight does not say. “Thank you for letting him grow and smile and experience the joys of the galaxy off of the battlefield.”

Astra Knight about Meta Knight and Kirby

Astra has become adept at reading Meta’s emotions through his eyes. He had to, because Meta so rarely emoted facially, so rarely smiled or frowned. When he sees the older Meta Knight with the mask, something in him breaks at the sight— Meta should never feel the need to keep a mask on perpetually, because Astra has promised himself that as long as he lives and breathes, Meta will not have to fight.

The Meta Knight he meets is quiet and reserved, and that’s nothing new, but Kirby sees in him, instinctually feels in him, the suffering of abrupt loss. Where Kirby has lost too much to time, Meta Knight has lost too much to senseless violence. But the same heart of gold that Astra saw in Meta remains buried somewhere in Meta Knight, and Astra means this. He sees it surfacing in the way Meta Knight’s eyes narrow into something affectionate at Kirby’s childish self.

This is someone that will stay with Kirby, Astra believes.

He’s surprised, when Meta Knight tells him, “he’s happy.” Astra supposes that Meta would of course know himself best, but to hear it from Meta Knight makes his heart swell with pride.

#kirby gijinka #kirby #meta knight #kirby ageswap au #this is not a ship and please don’t see it as one #between any of the characters lmao #meta is blushing because he’s not used to being fussed over and not because he’s flustered! #characters can blush for non romantic reasons! #sorry the post is so long #got carried away it’s almost 3 am #also wasn’t sure how to add a readme on mobile #oh there we go #thanks

[putellas11]

A/N: inspired by one of my favorite movies, before sunrise. Highly recommend playing the song i linked during a certain section of the fic ;) once again, it’s been so nice writing again i’ve now just started to realize how much i’ve missed it. hoping inspiration continues to strike. hope you enjoy!

Here with you I'm home at last (Alexia Putellas x Reader)

Night had fallen in Viena, and you found yourself pressed against the hotel room window, watching the city from above. As you take in a deep breath and exhale, you notice the glass begin to fog and it brings a smile to your lips. Just like when you were younger, your fingers trace a heart on the glass and for a second it feels like you’re back home. This was all, of course, an effort to distract your mind from the thoughts of tomorrow’s game. Every possible pass, tackle, and goal kept racing through your mind making it impossible for you to fall asleep. It’s a feeling you don’t usually get before a game but then again, this was no ordinary game— it was the Champions League final.

Reaching a Champions League final was an incredible achievement. For many players just advancing to the final would be considered the pinnacle of their career, but you refused to succumb to that mentality— especially as a Barcelona player. It wasn’t enough to reach three consecutive finals. They each had to be won. This was the unspoken demand in the dressing room.

Once again you realize your thoughts have drifted to the game and a sigh escapes from your lips. How does anyone sleep the night before? You ask yourself, fully beginning to accept the cruel reality of your anxiety keeping you company tonight.

ding! ding!

Interrupting your thoughts, your phone comes to life with a notification of a new message and you’re grateful to whoever was reaching out. You definitely needed a distraction. You bring the screen to your view and your heart comes alive. The message is from Alexia. 

Alexia: no puedo dormir Alexia: i want to see you..

The words on the screen have an effect on you that no poet, artist, or singer could ever truly capture. It’s affection in its purest form. It’s two souls longing for each other on nights when nothing else can bring comfort. It’s love. 

Y/N: meet me in the lobby Y/N: let’s explore vienna 

You send the messages fully aware of the consequences. Two of the star players of the team walking the streets of an unknown city the night before the most important match of the season? Not great, but you knew deep down it was what you both needed. 

Alexia: i like that idea

And just like that you’re changing out of your pajamas and getting ready to explore Vienna and all the possibilities written in the stars that night. ______________________________ You find yourself in the lobby of the hotel with a new feeling in the pit of your stomach. Desire. It was a familiar feeling and one that only Alexia could ignite in you. A desire to fall asleep in her arms and wake up enveloped in them, to kiss her lips and finally feel what it's like to be loved by her.

A desire is all that it is, however, as you and Alexia have yet to cross the line keeping you two apart. The two of you were in an agreement. You were going to wait for the season to be over before you truly explored what was building between the two of you. At first it wasn’t so hard to keep your hands off each other, but when a volcano wants to erupt there’s nothing one can do to stop it.

“Hola, hermosa.” It’s a voice you could pick out in a room of a hundred people. It’s the only voice that can make the hair on the back of your neck stand up and bring you peace when you need it the most. 

You open your arms and Alexia finds home in them. She nestles her face in your neck and breathes in your familiar scent, “I needed this,” she says, and all you can do is hold her closer. There were times you wondered if Alexia’s feelings for you were just as intense as the ones you had for her and moments like this gave you the reassurance you needed. 

“Come on, let’s see what the city has to offer,” with her arm wrapped around yours, the two of you step out of the lobby and into the cool, Vienna air. You had no idea where to go or what to do, but together there was nothing you couldn’t handle. ______________________________

As the two of you walk aimlessly through the streets of Vienna, thoughts of the final are no longer racing through your mind. All you can do is focus on the feeling of Alexia pressed up against you, the sound of her laughter, and the way her hair moved in the wind. The perfect distraction.

“Do you remember when you first fell in love?” you ask innocently, a question one can only ask on a night like this.

“Hm, it was so long ago..” Alexia starts to say as her fingers play with your hand, tracing the lines of your palm as you walk together. “A 15 year old is not meant to know what love is, but I think that’s what I felt. We were so young and innocent, but it was real, and it meant something. She was my last thought before falling to sleep and my first thought in the morning.” 

You listen intently, loving the way the words fell from her lips and the meaning they carried. You kiss her temple, encouraging her to continue. 

“A year later she moved to America and that’s how our story ended. I was devasted, not only because she moved but because she didn’t even try to keep in touch like..” she paused, taking in a deep breath of the night air, “like we meant nothing.” 

You gave her hand a light squeeze, knowing that although it was a long time ago one can never truly move on from their first heartbreak. It’s a wound that never truly heals and serves a reminder of what can happen when you let someone in. 

“Our first love often tends to be our first heartbreak.” You counter, and she chuckles at the irony. ______________________________ The two of you eventually find yourselves inside a record store of all places. You comb through the endless selections of records, occasionally bringing one to Alexia to see if she recognized the artists.

Your eyes were focused on a collection of Pink Floyd when you feel a hand on your back, lips ever so slightly grazing your ear and there’s no need for you to turn around to know who it is. “Come with me,” Alexia says and like a loyal soldier you follow her orders. 

She takes you to the back of the record store and inside a small listening booth for customers. The booth was not designed to fit two people. Your shoulder was pressed against Alexia’s and with the silence you think you can hear her heartbeat. It was beating just as fast as yours. Alexia pulls out the record, places it on the turntable and moves the needle over the record. 

“What song is this?” you ask, your voice soft in a whisper. 

As the first chords begin to play, she brings her index finger to your lips “shh, just listen.” And that’s what you do.

Wishwanderer by Vashti Bunyan

You ask me where I live Don't you know I live here now But where is my one real home This minute with you now

The lyrics of the song penetrate your soul and leave you feeling weightless. At that very moment, in a strange city at the eve of one of the biggest nights of your lives, Alexia was making an unspoken confession to you. While there may be something beautiful about someone screaming ‘I love you’ from the top of their lungs or blasting a love song from a boombox in your front yard, you wouldn’t trade this moment for anything.

Home is where I stayed last night Tomorrow's anywhere If you let me stay with you tonight Tomorrow's home will be here

Alexia with her back to you is clearly avoiding your gaze and you can’t blame her. You can’t see yourself but there’s no doubt your eyes were conveying everything Alexia herself was feeling. This was the closest you’ve been to truly acting on what was brewing between the two of you and it was absolutely terrifying. You lack the right words so as the song continues you play, you lean down and place a soft kiss on her shoulder.

Home has been so many roads That I walk down in my sleeping Here with you I'm home at last

You see the goosebumps begin to form on her skin. Her body reacts and leans against you, her hand gripping your thigh. Your lips move from her shoulder to her neck, leaving a trail of kisses on her skin. Wanting her even closer, your arm wraps around her waist as you show her the affection she deserves and has been craving from you.

As the final chords fade out and the song comes to its end, Alexia turns in your arms and the two of you are face to face. With eyes now locked, you felt suffocated by the palpable sense of desire in the room. A mutual desire for each other. 

Alexia slowly brings her hands to your face and her fingertips begin to trace the outline of your lips. “I have fallen for you— completely. I think about kissing you all the time...” her forehead meets yours and now the distance between your lips and hers is close to nothing. You feel her soft breaths against your lips and you’re fighting every urge to not do what your body and heart so desperately want. 

With the world spinning, you place your hands on her waist and close your eyes. “If I kiss you now, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop,” the truth falls from your lips to warn Alexia. You knew damn well that if the two of you crossed that line, you were never going to let her go. Your love for her was as certain and unquestionable as the sun rising in the morning. 

“Look at me,” Alexia asks, her fingers now tracing your jaw as it clenches. Your body was shivering at her touch. In that moment, you have no control over yourself, so you do as you are told and open your eyes. 

Staring back at you is a look of pure passion and determination. You see a woman who knows what she wants and is sick and tired of waiting. “So never stop,” is all she needed to say for you to finally meet her lips in a long-awaited kiss. 

It was everything you could have imagined and more. The kiss started off slow, cautious like you were exploring a new world. As your lips brush against hers the intensity of the kiss begins to grow and Alexia clings to you like you are the only thing keeping her on her feet. Her tongue parts your lips, sending wild tremors all through your body and you allow her to consume your entire being. ______________________________ A night in Vienna ends with the two of you in each other's arms looking across the water. The streets of the city were nearly empty, all you can hear is the sound of the wind and the water moving with the current. Any nerves you were feeling had all been forgotten. Instead, with Alexia in your arms you felt a love you wished upon every living soul.

“No matter what happens tomorrow, we’ll always have tonight.”

Alexia smiles at your words and nods in agreement, “and we’ll always have each other.”

#woso imagine #woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #Fic: Here with you I'm home at last

[shadowscrybe]

Rayven's Revenge- Chapter 13

Summary: Rayven is the younger sister of Rhysand in the Night Court. She was banished 64 years ago for the murder of her sister. This is the story of Rayven earning her place in Prythian and finding out what it means to be family. We all know how her story ends...but how did she get there? I don't want to forget the demon princess with bat wings. Do you?

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: canon typical violence

A/N: I love the bat boys like any normal person, but were they always so perfect and good all the time? Sometimes you gotta fight your brother and his friends. Who hasn't? I know I could take them (not in a fight) WHO SAID THAT???

Rayven flapped so hard for the Town House even Rahne had to keep up. She wanted to check on the girls, but she had a spymaster to kill. 

She let her thud onto the Town House roof echo through the walls. 

“You lied to me.” Rayven never threatened the shadowsinger with fire, but he was dangerously close to moving her to cross that line. 

“I don't know what you mean,” he said. He was standing on the ledge in his normal black. 

“You sent me to him with half the information,” she accused. “When I told you about the rebel, you had already told your Highlord.”

He let her yell at his back. 

“Look at me, you asshole!” 

A glance over the shoulder. “Doesn't feel good to be lied to, does it?”

“You could've gotten someone very close to me killed.” 

“Oh yeah? And who would that be, princess?”

Forget the fire, she was going to throttle him. She shoved him off the roof, throwing all her weight behind her. “Fuck you.”

He flew back up, hovering just past her reach.

“And don't call me princess again.” 

 “Or what?” he smirked. His boots were silent as he jumped onto the roof.

Or I’ll make you miss your step-brothers. She almost sent to him. His smirk fell to boredom, and she knew his shadows relayed a similar sentiment. 

“I’m so sick of you fucking bat boys.” 

She didn't look to make sure Azriel followed her, but Rahne definitely kept her sights on the shadowsinger. 

“Rhys, get in here now!” she shouted into the foyer. 

“Where have you been?” Cassian countered with equal intensity. 

“Where is he?” She wouldn't ask again. 

Rhys, always having to be ahead of everyone, was waiting in the door of the sitting room. 

The boys sat shoulder to shoulder on the couch, watching her pace as she yelled. 

“You're all fucking idiots. You played me this whole time. Nothing I told you was new information.”

“No it was not,” Rhys said. 

The flame in the hearth to her back roared. 

“You fucked up,” she continued. “Your little game almost got my best friend killed. Why lie to me? To me! Is it some sick test? After all this time, you don't trust me?” 

She waited until Cassian met her stare. “Even after what you saw today, you do this?” 

Rahne growled at Azriel’s shadow that tried to calm her. It found it wise to stay by its master. 

“You have one minute to explain yourselves. One of you may speak. Choose wisely.” 

Rayven stood before the three most powerful Illyrian males to ever exist, but when the smoke escaped on her exhale they had rightfully decided to look scared. 

Cassian was the one to speak. 

“Rayven,” he began. “You don't understand what we’re doing here. The dangerous course we have to navigate. You are far too quick to lose your temper. It’s going to get you hurt.”

“And you use your time to insult me. Of course I have no idea. I’m running Ironcrest, monitoring Windhaven, protecting the females you fucking idiots neglect, and trying to lift my banishment. Of course I’m in the dark.” She pointed to Rhys. “Because you've kept me there.” 

“You tricked the Highlord without considering the repercussions,” her brother said, annoyingly calm. “And you left us to clean it up.” 

“It had nothing to do with you!”

“No? Was it not Tarin’s understanding that I would be the one to arrive yesterday? Was it not my authority you swiped to get what you wanted? Congratulations, Rayven, you got to Spring. What now?” 

“You sent me in there blind. A highly valuable contact risked their life to get me the information you already had. You could've told me your Highlord knew about the female,” she said to the shadowsinger. “And the whispers he heard it from.”

“I don't report to you.”

“Nor I to you three. You go out of your way to make me look stupid. Always younger than you guys. News flash, dumbass, we’ve all settled. A few decades on me makes no difference.”

If Cassian had told the others about what Kallon and Bellius did, their faces gave nothing away. “You survived Illyria together. I had to do it alone.”

“That's not entirely true,” Azriel said. “What about Eris?”

Rayven cut all the fires in the house. “You don't know what you're talking about.”

“Don't I? Or do you smell of Autumn male because there's so many sheltered in Ironcrest?”

“I’m soon to reek of dead Illyrian.”

“I’m right here, princess.” 

 She stared at his hands until he tucked them behind his back. She looked each of them in the eye. 

“These are your brothers, right?” She gestured to the bastards. “Well Eris is mine.”

Azriel scoffed. 

Rhys saw the fight rising in Rayven’s eyes and sighed.  

“You want to come back to court more than anything. You were quick to threaten three of the Highlord’s biggest Illyrian supporters, almost losing your camp in the process.” He corrected his sleeve cuffs. “You schemed and plotted behind our backs to force his hand. We’ve been next to him for decades. We fought a war for him. Why don't we walk in and overthrow him right now?”

“Because you're cowards.” 

“Because we can't win,” Cassian said. “Wouldn't it be so nice to fix the corruption in this court and eliminate every cruel bastard?”

She growled, “That's what I’m trying to do.”

Cassian snapped in her face. “We’d have no one left.” 

“They were clipping Davina! What was I supposed to do?” Furious tears threatened to spill. “If no one in this court is left, so be it.” 

“We can train-” Cassian started. 

“No, I’m done waiting for the rest of these males to get the big picture. I’m done waiting for you assholes to help me. And I’m done trying to impress your Highlord.”

“The Highlord,” Rhys warned. 

“He is not my Highlord, and you are not my brother.”

“I will always be your brother.” 

“Not right now.” 

He rolled his eyes. The male really rolled his eyes at her. She was going to melt the stars in them. 

“Fuck you,” she spat. “The next male to stand in my way dies.”

Rhys held her stare. 

Rahne started spreading along her back. “You're as bad as him.” 

She didn't hear their response from her cottage. 

#acotar #rhys!sister #a court of thorns and roses #azriel x rhys!sister #azriel #azriel x reader #rhysand #cassian #eris vanserra

[steph-is-asleep]

Everyone shut up this is trolls with autism part 2: fav stims/textures

These were getting really long so I may make a part 3 about comfort foods in a separate post

Aradia: obviously, her hair, she loves playing with it, braiding it adding things to it etc, but I bet when she was younger she was a Hair/shirt chewer and idk why but I feel like she'd also just like breaking things. Not smashing, but snapping pasta noodles, brittle bones, or sticks, that sort of thing. She has a chewy necklace, but it's not a tough grade one like Terezi needs. If she doesn't have something MEANT to be chewed, her shirts get holes in them. Also toe walker. Least favorite texture: when your hands have been wet for a really long time and your nails are all dried out

Tavros: he has jewelry that's for stimming, like bracelets with little spinny parts or that you take off and play with, but before that, it was rubber bracelets or hair ties that he'd never even use as intended. He has a fidget spinner and a pop socket too and you could pry them from his cold dead hands. Tavros is also very very good at shuffling cards because he just really likes the noise it makes when they all flutter together. Least favorite texture: course grade sandpaper

Sollux: pen clicking, leg bouncing, he fucks with his piercings even though he knows he's not supposed to. Often he doesn't even realize he's doing it until someone loses their mind at him for it and tells him to stop. Sometimes, if he can, he'll pull up a whole new word document/notepad and just start typing nonsense bc the act of typing on a keyboard or tapping on a screen just feels good. If anyone opened up one of these notepads, they'd just be random descriptions of what's around him or complete gibberish. Also see the link for other Sollux stim headcanons. Least favorite texture: every and all slimes

Karkat: Skin picking, absolutely, especially around his fingers. He copes by painting his nails and picking that off and it's saved his skin forever. But he also loves silicon toys, the little brush ones I mean, and anything meant to be taken apart and put back together, bonus points if it's those ones that make the little pop and click noises when you do so. Karkat also likes pop-its, yeah I said it, someone has to like them. Another link for more karkat (and more Sollux) headcanons Least favorite texture: metal + teeth

Nepeta: she's also a chewer, but she likes very hard things, nothing squishy. It's all bones, wood, plastic that kinda thing, her favorite is straws. She's also a big fan of messy crafts, like finger painting, getting her hands in the mud/shaving cream that kind of thing, she just likes being messy, making a mess but doesn't like cleaning it. Yeah and toe walking. Least favorite texture: tin foil

Kanaya: she doesn't sew AS a stim, but she does sew a really long running stitch, intentionally neglect to tie it off just so she can pull the thread out, insanely soothing to her. Also anything that's meant to be gently tapped against her face, like a makeup sponge or very soft rag is A++ Anything that jingles when she walks (jewelery but also heavily beaded fabrics) are perfect. She also loves running her nails over things, specifically tapping with them. Least favorite texture: burlap

Terezi: we've got another intense chewer. She sits right between aradia and Nepeta. They like hard things, but obviously hard as in crunchy. We knew they eat chalk but also ice, stale bread, that kind of thing, things meant to be eaten and crunchy. She's also the type to just draw all over herself with markers, the wet + cool sensation of markers going over skin is everything. least favorite texture: braille

Vriska: Hair, like moving it around/out of her hair constantly and dice. She plays with them, rolls them when theres no reason to, sometimes chews them but it's pretty rare and the oral fixation is only with dice. Idk what they're called, but the little game with the dice under the plastic dome and you push it and it pops the dice everywhere? Yeah. She also likes ripping/cutting paper a lot and will steal magazines to rip/cut them up. Least favorite texture: cotton balls

Equius: Equius is also a hair stimmer, softly brushing it. I think he *used* to hit himself in stressful situation but because he's so strong, that's obvi not an option anymore (that's why he has the battle bots) but he also just likes breaking things as in destroying them. In humanstuck, I think he regularly visits those places where you're put in a room with a bat just to smash old TV's and shit. Least favorite texture: rusty metal

Gamzee: definitely noise based stimming, his horns, little bells and squeaky toys, but also he loves just...watching wheels spin. Will sit for hours with his unicycle upside down watching the wheel go. Also beaded curtains. I think growing up on the beach, he'd also really like the texture of wet sand, touching it, walking barefoot on it, making imprints of it, that sort of thing. Least favorite texture: bugs with legs

Eridan: Spiny rings spiny rings spiny rings. At least half of his rings spin/click/or make some kind of noise, also just the sound of rings clinking on things is itself a stim. I think he likes those silicon brushes too, but he likes plucking them. Some of his books in his library aren't even meant to be read, he just will sit and turn the pages until he feels better. Idk if this counts a stim but I also think he copes by swimming to the deepest water he can stand and just laying there like a massive weighted blanket. Least favorite texture: wet paper

Feferi: hair, but also she has so many different fabrics in her outfit, they probably all have different textures that she likes touching. Feferi's a fan of squishy stuff, she likes slime, wet foods like puddings and jello. I'm sure they'd have slime that can be submerged in salt water, but above water she loves the very transparent jiggly slime. She also loves fucking with jelly fish and I bet she smacks the bulb on beluga whales for fun. Also assigned toe walker. Least favorite texture: concrete + bare feet

#homestuck #sollux captor #karkat vantas #eridan ampora #headcanons #nepeta leijon #aradia megido #tavros nitram #kanaya maryam #terezi pyrope #vriska serket #equius zahhak #gamzee makara #feferi piexes

[animehouse-moe]

Mahou Shoujo Magical Destroyers Episode 4: R U Ready?

Another day, another Magical Destroyers episode. It's not so much predictable as it is informative and relatable, but that doesn't cause the value or enjoyment of it to depreciated as it parades itself around through Inagawa's vision that tackles just as many abstract concepts as it does pieces of otaku culture.

So I think I'll try to keep this one short, since the idea is pretty well established and explained. The episode is effectively all about the rift between generations in otaku culture, as a hobby almost. It's about the modern day reconciling with its roots, and that source lashing out at where they've been forced to come to.

Before I get into that though, I want to establish some history with the term Otaku. It originated in the 80s, much like the otaku shown in this episode, and it is indeed a word that's come to embody a similar meaning to how English speakers see "geek" and "nerd", but it wasn't always that way.

Otaku is a very finnicky term in its early years. Originally, it was popularized as term in a magazine that was known for Lolicon Hentai content (though it was later lessened due to reader feedback). Regardless, the term came to be a way to refer to who we see as Otaku thanks to a columnist that would write articles titled "Otaku Research" (Otaku no kenkyuu). From there, it saw use at a marginally harsher version of "geek" or "nerd". Basically, like how old school movies would have bullies refer to kids as a geek. Derogatory and aggressive, but not something full of distaste or anything.

That changed at the end of the 80s though. As the term Otaku gained ground it was used by more, and was forever attached to the "Otaku Murders". Tsutomu Miyazaki was in their late 20s at the end of the 80s, and was a serial killer at the center of a batch of gruesome acts over the course of a year. After being caught and arrested, media began to label Miyazaki as an Otaku and created a massive moral panic to erupt towards the group in Japan at the time. The piece that remains interesting however is that Miyazaki's collection was largely live action horror and pornography, but the media ran with his collection being largely anime and manga.

It's very heavy, but it's how the life of the term Otaku really started. An immediate plummet towards rock bottom that created an intense separation and hatred of Otaku in Japanese society. Outcasts, people that are unable to understand or relate to reality, people that cannot integrate with society, failures. It was a harsh and terrible time to be an Otaku, which this episode does a solid job of depicting while leaving out the heavier aspects.

And within that, a rift is formed. The older otaku who struggled to enjoy their hobby, versus the younger otaku who know nothing of strife. It's a great interaction as you see it all over the place with generations across media and hobbies. Car guys, music (particularly stuff like Rap), even video games. The challenges that faced earlier generations were their rite of passage, one that newer generations never cleared or struggled with. And on the opposite end, why would the newer generations respect that struggle when they have everything in front of them and have their own issues?

It's a back and forth that, even though it's covered comically, gets the point across of the generational gaps in hobbies and the distaste that each sees in the other. So very much something that holds particular value in otaku culture, but can also be applied and related to other hobbies and interests.

Okay, well this is not short but there's still more to, sorry! I'll try to breeze through it.

It's impossible to remove tropes and clichés from the root of how many fans see and understand anime these days, so I like how much they're leaned on through this series alongside expectation subversion. It's fun, definitely not fresh, but an enjoyable feeling of nostalgia for the illogical and odd nonetheless.

Plus, random fanservice? Gotta love it, and how it both sort of mocks the pointless scenes of women in animanga, while also placing the sexualization of Blue in her own court.

The pervasion of Otaku culture in interaction and casual dialogue is still quite fun and it finds the right times to make it funny versus making it something closer to a parody. I wouldn't exactly call it a parody as it's not mocking it per se, but it's certainly not an entirely serious depiction either.

In addition to that, I'm also still liking the sort of romantic undertones that the characters give off randomly. I'm unaware as to whether or not it's an intentional piece, but it really adds to that immature feel that pervades a lot of the shallow aspects of the story. You can see it as the weird and wacky Magical Girl comedy that's a high schooler's vision, or you can see the pieces that it expresses underneath. It's easy to take the shallow without the depth, but the latter doesn't come without the former.

And I think that's an important piece to remember with Magical Destroyers. You can take it as it gives it you and have a good time if you're okay with the production value, but you can't separate the two facets of Inagawa's approach to his work in this anime. In for a penny in for a pound, and I think fans that dive in headfirst are really appreciating what Inagawa's giving out.

#mahou shoujo magical destroyers #mahou shoujo mad #magical destroyers #magical mad #magical girl #jun inagawa #anarchy chan #otaku hero #otakuhero #anime recommendation #anime review #anime original #anime and manga #anime

[wulvert]

so ive heard that you have more triptrack lore???????? *stares at you intensely, full of platonic love for you and your work* would you like to tell us about it? :D

hello! thank you so much.... some more important lore is probably upcoming pretty soon so i wont spoil that ( if anyone even notices the lore anyway idk )

some stuff i probably wont go into much more than whats already in the comic is reds backstory, i think you can kinda pick up the vibe of whats going on with him, but i can go into it here + some stuff abt the world :) some people picked up on it fine, and some people still seem confused about it, but the uv levels output by the sun in triptrack are too high for human survival without protective measures. i dropped out of highschool and i never went to classes before that anyway, i have no idea how science works. the ozones fucked in some way. i usually call it murder sun. you can wear sunscreen but its a bit risky, and extremely expensive. only really rich people can afford it & you still need to protect your eyes & mouth. masks and gloves r more common. half masks are more of a fashion item but remove some risks associated with sunscreen.

red always wore a mask but someone he was working with (nefarious work) ripped it off to try kill him a while back, you can see a hand print on his face 125 i think, some people assumed its his own handprint but it came from that person holding him down. they were friends, so hes a bit distrustful of people now, understandably i think. It damaged his eyes a lot but he could afford to get them fixed a little bit, he only had the money to do that and nothing else, his skins still kind of actively injured, not healed bc hes never been able to afford healthcare. Red doesnt feel negative about how he looks at all, its the least of his concern- hes in excrutiating pain 24/7, he just wants his facial nerves dealt with & doesnt care about anything else- hes considered getting the handprint tattood to match the rest of his face, but he decided its better to save his money for other stuff. stealing tex will get him enough money for fairly permanent pain relief, after that i imagine he'll just get a new mask & put some less ugly clothes on and leave the whole stealing thing behind, he's very tired. triptrack wouldnt have happened if red had free healthcare.

just to like state outright, tex is a robot, some poeple believed him when he said "im not a robot", sorry i didnt even think abt people thinking he was telling the truth, my bad. shae ( if anyone remembers her its been 60 years ) isnt a robot, though. Terry is the younger brother, he shares a lot of code with tex but ms tarantula built his body, whereas she didn't tex's. tex is a lot stupider than terry because of creative differences at the time of tex's creation i guess. he can get smarter but he's been very sheltered his entire life. Terry doesnt really care about being a robot (he doesnt care about much) but tex appreciated red not knowing at least for a little bit. Shae will probably sue mt. co. if anyone. remembers. that. either. I think for my next comic im going to make whole chapters and upload them in chunks like that so people dont have to read it so slowly.

also not very important but glass city used to be an ocean!

you can see a little bit of water at the corners of this panel, and theres whale skeletons scattered around. also they tried to built a dome around it to keep the uv out but it was a disaster, shards of it also just hang out around the city from that.

also theres not very many people want windows, so all the more space for advertisement hell.

I definitely dont think i've gotten triptracks stuff across very well, but also i kind of like how vague it is. triptrack has a l o t of issues, and i want to go back to it when its done and make a like,.. triptrack dx or something lol. but its my first comic so like.... to be expected i guess.. ive learned a lot from it. paperteeth also has so many issues & i didnt really put much i learned from triptrack into it but thats because it was supposed to be a fun little side project! that i didnt have to think about too hard! then it exploded and ate triptrack for breakfast. rip. ( i am grateful though i just. didnt think that would happen, if i did, i would have tried harder lmao) so. yeah!

#asks