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#anyway. do you *know* how hard it is to do character voices when they're not enacting elaborate and very specific rituals of hierarchy??
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911 has been on my dash lately and it's what I needed, I'm glad I started watching. Someone close to me is dying and the show has been oddly healing.
911 is definitely a soap opera, and the occasional Christian sentiments and acts of god probably hit better with Americans than with me, but it's a show with touching ruminations about life, death, healing, tragedy, love, family, and what it means to be an individual and part of a community. What we owe each other, and what we don't.
I'm in season 3 now and I'm pleasantly surprised by how queer friendly the narratives are. Henrietta has an amazing presence on the show, so too does Buck. (Some of the writers worked on Buffy and Angel and I do think it explains the character driven arcs, easy queerness, and quirky humour). I love all the main characters. How could I not? So much time has been spent filling them in and much of the Drama is used to say something greater about how to move through the Belly of the Whale rather than existing gratuitously to cause rifts between the characters. It's just... nice.... and a rare choice for a show.
The Queerness comes with a caveat, however, US shows are a bit predictable in how they write queer characters. Hen can be one of the mains but her wife can't. Michael and Josh can exist on screen as long as they are side characters and only mention their love lives once a season. Buck can have an incredibly homoerotic relationship with his best friend (Buck: best friend and codependent co-parent) but can only voice his sexuality in later seasons (even if he's very bisexual now and I'm only on season 3). Buck is a beautiful young manly man you see, we mustn't alienate the young men whose demographic he's supposed to represent (sorry for the cynicism).
Really though, 911's relationship writing is top notch except for when it comes to Buck or Eddie's love interests. With the exception of Buck and Maddie, their characters' best relationships are either with each other or with Christopher and I can see why Buddie is such a popular ship. It's more obvious, too, when the romantic storylines are as good as they are for the other characters (and I'm hard to please). It's like the writing is super thoughtful about why a romantic relationship works for everyone else but keeps forcing it with Eddie and Buck because they want the pretty young men to be with the pretty young women. Buck's best love interest was Abby because they were trying to explore why it worked even though it was obvious it eventually wouldn't, that was in season 1 and I don't see it getting better. Look, all I'm going to say is that multiple partners only work when all parties know they're in a romantic relationship. That way you can be honest and mindful about how committed you are. Maybe that's why their relationships don't work now. Buck and Eddie don't realise they're dating each other.
Anyway, thank you Tumblr for bringing this show to me at this time in my life. Also, if you're interested, my otp is Maddie and Chimney. Don't tell me if they don't work out or you'll make me cry.
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piracytheorist · 2 days
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After much deliberation, I decided to watch Wish, the abomination that Disney released last year as its "100th anniversary film". And well, yeah, it's pretty poor. There's so much in the story that an actually experienced, self-respecting writer would cross out from the first draft, but they sadly got into the final film.
And I cannot for the life of me believe that Star was supposed to have a human form?? And we got the stupid merchandise bait? Cause I swear every time Star did something I was thinking "Imagine that being a character with a human form and voice" and going like WE WERE ROBBED. The talking goat that gave absolutely nothing to the narrative but butt jokes was one thing, but then you ask of your audience to feel something for a moving plushie? Idk I couldn't feel a thing for that, even though it felt like the story was begging me to. It wants me to buy a plush star and give the mouse even more money sooooo bad.
And the songs were... oof. How did Disney end up like this. How. They're literally in their "live long enough to see themselves turn into villains" era.
Anyway, funny part, cause one of the characters was called Simon O'Donohue and I actually had to pause because I was laughing so hard. And I should know, I do know, the name O'Donohue and its variations are actually among the most common Irish surnames but man. When you love a celebrity, their name always hits hard when it comes from where you don't expect it. I still laugh thinking about it, I'm imagining myself seeing this movie in theaters and bursting out in laughter at the name, and people looking at me like wtf is she laughing at.
A weird mix of emotions, I gotta say. It's a shame because it had an interesting potential but someone just... didn't know what power they held. I don't know who's to blame, most definitely higher executives from the mouse, but it's really a pity. It even ends with the "When You Wish Upon a Star" after the credits, showing the castle with the arc of fairy dust, and all I felt was "You've lost its meaning, Disney. We used to love your movies despite your horrible business choices, but now we don't even love your movies. What else is left."
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skrunksthatwunk · 9 days
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why the fuck did i write about birds this fucking sucks. i just found out birds only sleep for a few minutes at a time, hundreds of times a day. do you know what this is going to do to my structure? the logistics of their road trip? this is already like three days late and i've been fighting for my life to get A Plot Like Any Plot That Makes Sense out and now the birds fucking sleep for 5 minutes at a time.
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#i should've just bailed and written another story when i had the chance#i'm not joking i've never fought a fiction piece this hard before. usually because i'm not writing for specific deadlines#and not a piece so big. and not one that's gonna be workshopped. i wanna blow them away but if things keep going the way they are everyone'#gonna tell me the pacing sucks and it feels pointless and the characters feel really confused. I KNOW. I KNOW THAT. FUCKK#i'm the type to do about 15 passes before i let someone see my 'first draft' and i'm just not gonna be able to do that if i want to get it#in time for a workshop. every day i delay is making things harder for my classmates y'know?? but i've been writing like 1k words a day#and it's still not done. GUHH#I DON'T LIKE WRITING THESE CHARACTERS THAT MUCH THEY'RE NOT FUNNY OR ENDEARING AND THAT'S MY LIKE.#MAIN SKILL AND VIBE WITH SHORT STORY DUOS. BUT NOOOO I HAD TO MAKE THEM DIFFERENT CUZ I WAS SICK OF DOING#THE SAME DYNAMIC OVER AND OVER. BITCH THIS IS YOUR FINAL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! TRIED AND TRUE GETS THE BLUE (RIBBON)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#head in my hands head in my hands head in my hands head in my hands head#going to work on it some more. fuckk#the voices aren't consistent and i'm trying to make it clear that this is toxic bird yuri and not a mother/daughter thing but the maternal#themes are kind of fucking with that but they're important and i don't wanna get rid of them but it feels forced cuz im forcing it#sigh. i'm gonna have to cut the yuri. these two don't work romantically at all. what a waste of time.#i watched the entirety of mnthly girls' nozaki-kun in the past two days while avoiding writing. did you know that? the lengths to which i'l#go? anyway it was fun i appreciate fellow creative agony and i uh never knew how they did screen tones and wasn't expecting that somehow#so i learned something new (hooray). anyway back to. fucking. bird story stuff#i'm so mad i hate these two (<- lying. just pissy) i hate this story (<- mostly exaggerating. throwing a tantrum)#eughhhhhh i just wanna lie on the floor and cryyyyyyyyyy (<- completely deadpan irl. not That upset just kind of sick of shit)#i'm so burnt out and it's only gonna get worse. ughh#why can't someone just come in and write it for meeeeeeeeeeheheuhhh (<- would hate that)
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sinni-ok-sessi · 1 year
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Chapters: 7/7 Fandom: 琅琊榜 | Nirvana in Fire (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Lin Shu | Mei Changsu | Su Zhe/Xiao Jingyan Characters: Xiao Jingyan, Lin Shu | Mei Changsu | Su Zhe, Lin Chen (Nirvana in Fire), Xia Dong (Nirvana in Fire), Nie Feng (Nirvana in Fire), guest appearances by other members of the cast Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Alternate Universe - Space, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Reveal, Identity Issues, Grief/Mourning, Hopeful Ending Summary: In his heart of hearts, Jingyan knows something remains at Meiling. A ghost, a secret – he can’t say for sure. But whatever it is, he won’t abandon it. And one day, when they’ve gathered up whatever fragments of information have been scattered around the rest of the galaxy, he’ll find out whether the rumours that Jiangzuo ships can travel anywhere are true.
Approx. 14k
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Author reveals are out so it’s time for some shameless self-promotion! I described this to a friend as the Sad Conversations In Space fic and I stand by that, but I assume anyone in the Nirvana in Fire fandom loves sad conversations, so hopefully that’s a selling point.
Written for liuet’s prompt of a sci-fi AU. The space piracy is alas merely implied. Many thanks to cicelythereaper/acrosticacrumpet for beta’ing, brainstorming and general encouragement.
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runicarbiter02 · 11 months
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How would each CoD character react to you touching their cheek for the first time? (In a caressing way)
A/N: Oh my god, this is actually the cutest and I couldn't think of a better way to start off this blog, thank you for this, love! I hope you enjoy! ~ Hannah
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ALEX KELLER
Oh, this man is absolutely melting the second your hand cups the side of his face.
The goofiest damn grin on his face, corners of his eyes crinkling, soft laugh rumbling in his chest.
"How ya doing, sweetheart? Hanging in there?" Man is always concerned with you and your well-being.
Absolutely is the type of person to just completely nuzzle into your touch, soft sigh of content leaving his lips.
You aren't getting your hand back any time soon. Try and pull away, and he will absolutely pull the kicked puppy look. You can't bring yourself to pull away anyway.
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ALEJANDRO VARGAS
"Oh, is there something you need, mi vida?" This motherfucker and his sweet, smooth voice. Love him.
He will gently draw you in close with a hand on your waist, that signature cheeky grin on his lips. He'll gently take your hand in his and just press sweet kisses to your fingertips.
This will lead to him pulling you aside for a moment, peppering you in sweet kisses and showering you in the most endearing compliments in Spanish.
Expect to be walking away with a spring in your step and a flushed face.
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GARY "ROACH" SANDERSON
At first, he will look wildly confused, his brows furrowing slightly and his head cocking to the side.
"What's up, hun? Everything okay?" He signs the term of endearment with so much passion every time, it is absolutely the sweetest and most heartwarming thing. Any term of endearment he uses is always signed with more passion than anything else.
Once you let him know you just wanted to love on him, this cheeky little shit is flirting with you like crazy.
"Oh, just wanted to love on me, huh? Well, there's more ways you could-" He cuts his signing off with his own laughter when you playfully shove his face away, and he follows after you, making obnoxious kissy noises.
He makes it up to you, though, with the most affectionate kisses. He's goofy and that reflects in how he shows you his love.
(Can you tell I love Roach? I love him very much.)
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JOHNNY "SOAP" MACTAVISH
Johnny will take your other hand, place it on his other cheek, and will gently press your hands against his cheeks to squish his face.
He hums happily, reveling in your touch as his eyes shut and his lips curl into a smile.
"Always know what I need before I even do, mo chridhe." This man is so, so whipped for you. Looks at you with so much love and affection that you might as well melt before him.
Do expect this to end up with you wrapped up in his arms, snuggled close, the Scotsman whispering some of the stupidest jokes known to man to you in an effort to get you to laugh.
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JOHN PRICE
I have like a very specific image in mind for this one!
He tends to work himself to the bone, getting lost and caught up in his work, and its very, very hard to get him out of it. It's one of those nights where you find him hunched over his desk, nose buried in his work.
You walk up behind him, gently resting your hand on his cheek and he pauses, tilting his head back to look up at you.
Despite the exhaustion, his expression softens, the tender smile on his face highlighting the crow's feet at the corners of his eyes.
"It's late, isn't it...? Mmm... Alright, dearest, I'll head to bed."
He gently grasps your wrist and tilts his head to press a fleeting kiss to your palm, and then to the pulse point on your wrist. It takes a bit more convincing before he's off to bed.
(I'm a bit biased, I'm a major John Price simp if you couldn't tell.)
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KEEGAN RUSS
Look, I firmly believe our resident masked men are softies, but they're all different in terms of their softness.
This man is a softie with you, but good god, is he suave and flirty.
"Mmm, what's up, kid...? Just looking for an excuse to see my face, hm? All you had to do was ask." It should be illegal how much this man's voice sounds like a silky purr.
Soft kisses to your fingers, knuckles, and the back of your palm. Fleeting kisses that barely meet, brushing against your skin and leaving trails of goosebumps in their wake.
"Always so sweet for me, kid."
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KÖNIG
(Apparently this man is a colonel? And from what I've seen, if he joined at 18, and if we take the average amount of time it takes to get to that rank... This man is likely in his early 40s. Dilf König? Dilf König.)
Masked man number two! Softie, but different from Keegan. This man is the shy sort of soft.
I imagine this would happen after he shows you his face for the first time. He grew up bullied for his appearance, among other things, and its made him rather insecure about his looks.
When you gently cup the side of his face after studying him for a moment, he heaves a shuddering sigh and averts his gaze shyly. But, the second you tell him how handsome he is, his face goes pink and he flushes shyly.
"Ah, meine Sonne und Sterne... You're going to make me melt." He then proceeds to kiss you softly on the forehead and tells you how much he loves you.
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KYLE "GAZ" GARRICK
A pleasant flush works its way onto his cheeks and he gives you that beautiful smile full of sunshine.
"Missed you, lovely. You been taking good care of yourself?" Sweet, heartless man that he is, worrying about you even though he looks exhausted after his most recent mission.
Gently draws you into him and just hugs you tight, pressing his face into the crook of your neck and sighing happily. The second your cologne or perfume washes over him, all tension leaves him completely.
"Missed this. Missed you." Whispered words against your skin. He gently sways in place with you as you two embrace, his hand coming to rest on the back of your head. Fully cherishes the moment.
"How's about some takeout and we finally watch that show you've been talking about? The House of the Dragon, right? Hopefully its better than the last few seasons of Game of Thrones." You have a stellar date in as you binge the entirety of The House of the Dragon and make up for lost cuddling time.
(Gaz does NOT get enough love and it's criminal. Perfect boyfriend/husband material right here. I adore him. Also? Man is absolutely gorgeous? Best man.)
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NIKOLAI
(Russian dilf? Yes please! Underrated man right here.)
Late nights in bed, curled up with him are always the sweetest. Soft whispered nothings as you both lay together, skin on skin, fully content in a post sex haze.
He shoots you a lazy grin as you cup his face, his hand gently rubbing up and down the expanse of your back. "What's on your mind, мое солнышко? Laying there looking so stunning..."
Soft, playful kisses are placed along your jaw, a cheeky smirk on his lips when you begin to protest, laughter in your voice.
"One more round wouldn't hurt... We can sleep in tomorrow morning, Золотце." You know damn well you're going to be exhausted in the morning as he takes the time to worship every inch of your skin.
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RODOLFO "RUDY" PARRA
(Rudy, my darling, my beloved, my SWEET! This man is also criminally underrated even though he's PERFECT husband material. SHAME!)
He happily returns the favor as you rest your hand against his cheek, his hand cupping your cheek as he rests his forehead against yours.
"Long day, cariño? Mmm, I understand... I'll draw us a bath and we can relax." He takes your hand, pressing sweet kisses to your knuckles before he draws a bath for the both of you.
You both spend most of the evening in the tub, you resting against his back as he holds you close, featherlight kisses pressed to your skin as you both talk about your day.
The both of you take such good care of each other, and there's never less than 100% put into your relationship on both sides.
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SIMON "GHOST" RILEY
Masked softie number 3: Tender and longing edition.
His night terrors don't often wake you; he's usually fairly good at hiding them. The first time he does wake you is during a particularly violent one that has him thrashing and crying out in his sleep.
He wakes not long after you do, sweating and panting, his voice hoarse from how much he had been crying out. Once you're sure he's fully conscious, you gently rest your hand against his cheek and guide him through a grounding routine: 5 things he sees, 4 people he knows, 3 foods he likes, 2 things he hates, and one thing he loves.
As he talks, you become his sole focus as the night terror fades into the back of his mind, the grounding method working wonders.
And when it comes to the one thing he loves, he shuts his eyes and presses further into your touch, a few tears streaking down his cheeks. One hand gently clutches your wrist while the other rests against yours, holding your hand against his cheek. He doesn't need to say it. You know.
You always, always know. And with a kiss to his forehead and your thumb stroking against his cheek, you let him know. I love you too.
[I'M SORRY IF ANY OF THE TRANSLATIONS ARE INCORRECT, I TRIED MY BEST TO GET THE PROPER ONES!]
Mi vida - My life; honey
Mo chridhe - My heart
Meine Sonne und Sterne - My sun and stars
мое солнышко - My sunshine
Золотце - Honey; darling
Cariño - Honey; dear
TAGLIST:
@floral-force
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stevieschrodinger · 7 months
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Baker Steve/Rock Star Eddie wrong number AU
Part One
Part Two
PART THREE
"It's like a TV show, but on YouTube."
"Right," Steve answers, half listening to Dustin's explanation, "so it, like what, has an air time, or whatever?"
"Yeah, like a series."
"And it's just, what, famous people playing dipshits and dickheads?"
"Steeeeeeeeeeeevvvvveeeeeeeeeeee why are you like this?"
"Dunno," Steve shrugs, trying to read a recipe online. Unfortunately that's resulted in his having to scroll past someones entire fucking life story and he's ready to give up and try and work out the dumb Oreo cake recipe himself, "just lucky, I guess."
Dustin drops his head on the kitchen counter like Steve is the greatest difficulty he's ever going to face.
"So why do you need to be here to watch this?"
"Because we all want to watch it together, the guests are Corroded Coffin, they all like, play, the whole band, it's so cool-"
"Corroded Coffin? Playing your nerd game?" Steve's interest leaks through before he can stop it, "I mean, like, I think I've heard of them?" The last thing he needs is the kids finding out he's been kind of friends kind of flirting kind of maybe wants to date the actual Eddie Munson.
Dustin looks at him skeptically, "yeah...so you-"
"You can all watch it here, it's fine...I'll make cookies."
Dustin's completely distracted by his own success, instantly whipping out his phone to inform the other kids. Steve's pretty sure their group chat is called 'No Steve's allowed' but he hasn't actually found out for sure yet.
Steve does bake cookies. All the kids are gathered around his smart TV, absolutely demolishing them while they wait for this thing to start. It's like, an actual channel, with intros and graphics and stuff, a logo that reads 'Final Roll.'
And there's Eddie and the band, sitting around a table with two dudes who must run the channel. They all have the bits of paper and dice and little figures that Steve's used to seeing when the kids commandeer his dining room table.
There's preemptive ramble, and Steve leans forward a little every time Eddie's in shot. He's relieved all the kids are all sitting in front of him and all glued to the TV, so he can ogle in peace. They do introductions, and then everyone introduces their characters.
"May I introduce Sir Steven, the half elf paladin," behind Eddie Gareth rolls his eyes so hard his whole fucking body moves. Steve can see him and Geoff mouthing something to each other. Steve can only assume it's because Eddie has named his character, presumably, after him, "he has a sworn oath to always protect those weaker than himself."
Steve's heart fucking melts.
Steve's phone is buzzing. He's prepared. He knows Eddie's back in the country, they've been talking for months. Steve's kind of done waiting, and he's ready to press his advantage. He's had this set up for a little while, just waiting for the right moment. He presses play, and then answers the phone.
"Hey Stevie how-...are you listening to Corroded Coffin?"
"Yeah, yeah," Steve turns it down, bomb dropped, trap sprung, advantage played, "the kids absolutely love them, they're trying to get me into them even though they're not exactly my thing."
"Right, ah, right, what do you, uhm, think?"
"Yeah. Still not my thing-"
"Oh."
"But I really like it when the lead guy sings."
"...yeah?"
"Yeah, not the like, shouty growly singing, I can't understand a fucking thing he's saying-" Eddie chuckles, "but like, the parts where he properly sings. I think he has a beautiful voice."
"I ah, well, I mean, I bet the, uhm, shouty bits are hard work, you know. I expect that takes a lot of, you know, practice. Hell on the throat. I imagine, I would guess anyway, I don't actually, like know-"
"No no, yeah, well, maybe he should just sing more then, save those vocal chords, or whatever. I'd like that a lot."
"Yeah?" Steve can practically hear Eddie blushing down the phone. Eddie's so cute when he goes shy.
"Yeah." There's a long beat of silence before Steve goes in for the kill, "the kids are trying to get me to go see them. They're in the states now, apparently. Will be playing a gig in Indie."
"Yeah they are- I mean, I assume they are, most bands, uhm, yeah-" And Steve is hardly holding it together, Eddie is such a bad liar, and he's trying so hard not to lie at all. Steve doesn't know how he;s keeping his tone normal and not letting the whole ass cat out of the bag.
"And the kids are absolutely itching to go, you know? But tickets man, they're all doing every chore they can find to get some extra cash, but tickets are pricey, and for eight of us? Because I'll need someone else to help me chaperone and, you know..."
"I. I might...know a guy. Maybe. Like, because of the band I might...know someone who can get you tickets."
"Seriously? Eddie that would be incredible, the kids will absolutely loose their shit."
"Yeah, ah, is your work email cool?"
"Yeah, yeah, of course of course, man, the kids are going to love you for like, forever."
And maybe I will too, Steve just about manages to keep the words inside.
@steves-yellow-cardigin @melodymeddler @pitrsattabhaadmeinjao
@superduckmilkshake @she-collects-smut @paintsplatteredandimperfect @resident-gay-bitch
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churipu · 9 days
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hii i hope ur midterms r going well !! ive binge read so many of ur work n js wanted to say theyre so amazing (´꒳`) i wanted a request for toji + any other character of ur choice x reader who stays up late n has difficulty sleeping (fluff),, thank u !! 🤍
𝗜𝗧'𝗦 𝗧𝗛𝗥𝗘𝗘 𝗔𝗠 !
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────── 𝕴 . featuring. toji fushiguro x reader
────── 𝕴 . warnings. cursing, and mentions of toji being soft, i love him.
note. hi nonnie! thank you so much, you're too nice to me, and yes, my midterms went well! it's been so long since i've done the requests in my inbox, which is the sole reason to why i have closed my ask box so i could finish them all! although, the next time i open them, i won't accept requests for a bit. sorry for those who have visited my inbox and have waited for a long time for your piece to be done. // anyways, new theme = new layout!
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"why aren't you in bed?"
toji's voice came out hoarse — he cleared his throat and approached you, sitting himself on the couch despite his heart caressing his ears, pleading for him to go back inside the bedroom and just lay back down on the bed.
the cotton surface of the couch dipped just as he practically threw himself down on it, holding back a loud yawn. you raised a brow, shoving the spoonful of cereal you mixed with milk five minutes ago, just before toji emerged from your shared room.
small yellow chips of cereal that had grown soggy, seeping in the white tasteless liquid dispersed into a mush inside your mouth. they weren't even solid as they're supposed to be, "can't sleep, you?"
"you weren't there."
old habits die hard. that's how the saying goes, and you undeniably agreed to that. the night is an old friend to you, never did your eyelids felt heavy when you were supposed to be in bed, asleep. it's not healthy, you're killing yourself doing this.
"you're such a baby," you mutter out, staring into space, feeling your eyes slowly dissociate — jaw moving in a slow motion, biting into wet and mush before you swallow them.
"y/n, it's three am, y' can't keep doing this stuff," toji scratches his nape, leaning his head back onto the couch rest.
despite your eyes staring into nothing, you could hear his words pretty well. in fact, toji had repeated the same words countless of times that you found yourself engraving it into your mind, "i know, i can't sleep. i know it's not healthy, if i could stop it, i would."
"you're scooping nothing, y/n."
this time, his statement pulled you back into reality. looking down to see that you were indeed scooping no soggy cereal chip, nor a drop of milk onto your spoon. chuckling out lightly, you stood up and sauntered over to the kitchen, dumping what was left of your cereal pieces into the sink.
"you should go to bed," you tell him, wiping your wet hands onto your shirt — crumpling up the fabric to soak them in the access waterdrops lacing your fingers, "'ts late."
toji scoffs lightly, "shouldn't i be saying that shit to you?"
no mistakes there. you emitted out a soft sigh, "i'm fine, i'll be back in bed in a few . . ." toji raises a brow skeptically. he never forgot the last time you said that, he woke up alone on the bed — and you were wide awake on the couch, watching the morning news.
"hell no. it's two of us or nobody goes back to bed, 'm not kidding." he mutters out, not realizing how harsh his voice came out as.
brows furrowed deeply, he looks at you. your disheveled (h/c) hair going all point in a compass points, the visible dark shade of exhaustion coloring under your eyes — and the light creases on the corner of your beautiful, tired eyes.
"can you not?" you mutter, pinching the bridge of your nose; honestly, you can't blame him at all, he's just a worried boyfriend and you were being stubborn.
"can i not what? worry about my own—" he stops mid sentence and shakes his head. toji was never a man of words, he doesn't express his affection to you through words. he's had moments, not a lot, but he's had them.
toji's a man of actions. he thinks that words mean nothing, which you knew, "'m tired, but i can't sleep, okay? i'll just hang out here a few more minutes and i'll come back to bed. you don't have to stay awake just because 'm awake."
"just shut up."
you stare at him, surprised. parting your lips, you try to speak again but toji beats you to it.
"can't i worry about you or something? you're my partner," he said, his then exhausted eyes now fully refreshed. a tinge of frustration coloring his greenish iris.
your eyes darted around for a bit, searching for words to spout out as a reply, "you don't have to worry about me, 'm fine. i promise. so, can you please just go to bed and stop worrying about me?"
"fuck that," he stands up, with heavy footsteps he darted towards you.
his figure grew in your view as he closes the distance between you and him. with a quick motion, he threw you over his shoulder, letting you dangle over his shoulder. at this point, you were too exhausted to even move a limb so you just laid there, not having the cell to even open your mouth.
toji walks over to the bedroom and he sat you down gently on the bed. on most occasions, he would throw you onto the bed playfully — but this was serious. he's pissed, and you're pissed.
"sleep."
you crane your neck upwards, face scrunching into one of annoyance, "i just told you that i can't—"
"try."
shaking your head, you said, "i can't, i've tried."
his finger brushed over your hair, smoothing them back down. he didn't reply to you. frankly, he finds it hard to be in the current position — as a kid, he was taught to never show his weakness. he grew up in a household full of so much hate that he forgot what love is.
here you were. vulnerable, in a weak state that toji has seen a lot before throughout your relationship. if this was anyone else, toji swore he'd tell them to suck it up because life isn't always what they think it ought to be.
but this isn't anyone else, it's you. y/n. the only person toji has showed his own vulnerable sides to — it's like a punch to his gut when he saw a bit of his younger self in you. he had nobody, and nobody had him.
it's different this time, it's not about him anymore. it's about you. you had him, and he had you.
toji inhaled sharply, his large hands slipping underneath your pits as he gently pushes you up. your feet dangled as he then pulled you into him, his right hand traveled onto the hollow of your back — and his left hand prepped your legs around his torso.
you felt like a child, "what're you doing?"
"shut up," he mutters out into the crook of your neck, "just try to get some sleep."
he pressed his lips onto your skin tenderly, making you shudder at the sudden contact — but you liked it. toji didn't stop, with an arm around your waist, and another under your thighs, he held you close to him.
warm and shallow breaths blew onto your skin like warm lights, it didn't tickle, you bury your head into the crook of his neck. copying his actions, "'m sorry."
toji grunted, "for?"
"just . . . everything," you murmur out.
his grip around your waist tightened, "'ts not somethin' to be sorry of, you can't control it. so just try and get some sleep," he muttered out, rocking side to side gently.
a faint smile appeared on your lips as you pulled your head back slightly, "you're too nice to me."
"don't get used to it," toji rolled his eyes.
"i love you too," you planted a kiss onto his lips briefly before returning your head into the crook of his neck, letting him lull you to sleep for the night.
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© CHURIPU 2024 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE.
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taintedtort · 18 days
Note
Hihii...!!! i really love ur HCs and i wanted to ask if you're comfortable with these types of character writing, what r ur headcanons on kenma, kuro, tsuki n maybe suna would act when they're drunk ? like would they be a bit different than their usual self ? sorry to ask a lot but im more curious on ur thoughts on kenma ;; .. write whatever u can, idm ! thank u ehehe have a good one ! >_< <3
" LET'S GET DRUNK! "
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summary. they’re drunk lolz
characters. kenma, kuroo, tsukishima
warnings. afab!reader, drinking/alcohol, post timeskip!!!^^
a/n. yesss i love kenma, many thoughts on him!! he’s my favorite!!! didn’t add suna because i don’t really know his character that well :( added a kenma bonus to make up for it tho!
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KENMA
☆ i think he’d be a sleepy drunk. he's out as soon as his head hits any soft surface— maybe even before! i feel like he also acts grumpier, mumbling complaints when you wake him up and try to move him (he was passed out on your shoulder in the car, you have to get him to bed!)
☆ his face gets kinda pink, like he’s blushing. he’s pale, so it’s more noticeable than it would be on someone else. his eyes get droopy and his face sort of relaxes, so he looks mean and tired.
☆ he stubbles slightly, but he surprisingly manages to maneuver himself pretty well for a drunk person. just don’t ask him to do a cartwheel or anything… he couldn’t even do one of those while sober.
☆ he doesn’t drink often, so he’s a light weight… plus he’s skinny and on the smaller side, so he doesn’t have to drink much to get a buzz. he’s usually responsible though, but sometimes he celebrates too hard (with a bit of a push from kuroo)
☆ he doesn’t get any more talkative, but he’s less filtered that normal. i don’t think he’d be too flirty or mean, but if he got drunk enough he may compliment you a couple times.
BONUS:
☆ the type to get so drunk he forgets who you are. you come find him to pick him up after someone called you, and he’s face down on the table. you nudge him, trying to gently guide him to stand, but he’s immediately swatting you away, grumbling about how he has a girlfriend.
"leave m' alone— got a girlfriend already," he slurs, raising his head to drunkenly glare at you. his eyes narrow further when you laugh.
"kenma… i’m you’re girlfriend," you tell him, always finding it a bit amusing when he gets this drunk. he’s not too much of a hassle though, since he usually knocks right out when you get home and tuck him in.
he's silent for a moment, just staring at you up and down. he wears the same expression he has whenever he buys a new video game, excited and in awe.
"really…?" he asks, a hopeful tone in his voice. now that he’s looking at you… you are really pretty. he really hopes you're his girlfriend.
"yes, really. i’m gonna take you home, okay? cmon," you urge, gently grabbing his arm and helping him stand. he complies this time, his eyebrows raising.
"we live together?" he questions, the situation just getting better and better to him.
"we do," you confirm, another giggle leaving you. it doesn’t really hurt your feelings that he doesn’t remember, you find it more amusing and entertaining than anything.
"… im so lucky," you hear him whisper under his breath, looking at you as you guide him to the car.
KUROO
☆ he'd be a funny drunk i think… a bit of a handful, and is entertaining at first, but eventually gets annoying. his emotions kind of double when he’s intoxicated, and he’s also kind of erratic. really energetic after his first few drinks, but if he’s extra drunk, he’s more emotional.
☆ his eyes get a little watery, but that’s about it. he actually looks more lively while he’s drunk, because he makes more facial expressions.
☆ he can’t stand straight at all, especially if he’s had more than a couple drinks. needs support to walk, otherwise he'll fall. he’s heavy though, and puts majority of his weight on you, so sometimes you end up falling anyway.
☆ he can handle his alcohol pretty well. takes him a few drinks to get a buzz, but he doesn’t usually stop there. mostly drinks to celebrate things, or at parties. never drinks alone, that’s just boring and sad to him.
☆ probably asks you random stupid questions like "what number am i?" or "what animal would i be?" (follows up that second question with "would you still love me if i was that animal?")
☆ i think he’s more talkative, but he speaks faster and his words are kinda jumbled, so it’s hard to understand him sometimes. he gets a lot more sappy, constantly complimenting you and telling you that he loves you (he does that all the time already)
"y're sooo pretty, love you s' much."
TSUKISHIMA
☆ not that much different than when he’s sober, honestly. he gets more mellow, surprisingly, though it might be because alcohol makes him a little sleepy, similar to kenma. he isn’t quick to fall asleep, but he’s not energetic and jumping around.
☆ his face is more relaxed, which makes him look even more intimidating and mean. his eyes get a little red around the edges, but that’s mostly it.
☆ stubbles quite a bit and holds things for support. if you try to help him, he’ll snip and you and complain that he doesn’t need your help to walk. (he does, and eventually gives in and leans on you a bit when he almost falls on his face)
☆ also a lightweight. doesn’t go drinking unless he’s invited, and even then he’s usually the designated driver. on top of that, he hates being hung over, and he hates throwing up, so he rarely gets super drunk. kuroo tries to persuade him sometimes, but the most he gets his a little tipsy.
☆ probably gets into debates with people about certain topics that he likes, arguing with them about facts and opinions. he usually wins. even when he’s drunk, he’s still quick witted.
☆ he fights you on everything, insisting he’s fine and "not drunk" whenever you try to help him. you end up ignoring his complaints and just assist him with changing and getting into bed anyway. he’s asleep pretty quickly, especially if you run his back/scalp.
"i don’t need help— i'm not even that drunk!"
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adoringhaikyuu · 11 months
Note
heyyy!
i dont know if you’re still taking requests buuut i couldn’t stop thinking of angry confessions with kageyama and/or tsukishima (you could add anyone else tho)
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ANGRY CONFESSIONS
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characters: kageyama + tsukishima + (gn!reader)
warnings: none but tsukki's a lil mean lol
notes: the backstory is that they got jealous seeing you with another guy cause i couldn't think of anything else + these can have happy endings i just didn't write them sfdghkj
part one / part two
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★ kageyama storms over to you, and practically scolds you, asking you what you were doing talking to that guy. his voice keeps getting louder when you can't see the problem. you're confused and tell him you don't need his permission to talk to anybody and if you wanted to go out on a date you very well could. soon he's red in the face, frustrated saying you can't. you ask him why and he just repeats himself saying you just can't. when you ask him again, he breaks and says 'because i love you!...' his eyes widen and he's breathing hard, just staring at you. he drops his gaze and his voice gets smaller. 'how can you not see that?'
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★ tsukishima started blatantly ignoring and avoiding you, and the few times he would grace you with conversation (bc you were talking with yamaguchi), it would be filled with snarkier than usual comments and eye rolls. it isn't until you confront him and ask him what's wrong that he actually looks you in the eye for longer than two seconds without rolling his eyes, but they're narrowed in slits as he sneers at you. 'because you're too blind and stupid to see that if anyone should date you it should be me.' his cheeks are starting to blush and he looks away suddenly. 'no one else would be able to tolerate you anyway.'
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causenessus · 3 months
Text
Nightmares. | Bungou Stray Dogs
inc: dazai, chuuya, tecchou
written in 2nd pov (female reader implied at least for chuuya)
song recc: roslyn by bon iver
word count: 1064 words
summary: "how do they take care of you when you have a nightmare?"
sorry if they all seem the same D: i tried to make them all unique and i can see the difference between each character in how they would treat u but i know it's small i'm sorry they're all just such green flags and would be the sweetest <3
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dazai
has had so many nightmares himself he knows just how to take care of you
having someone with him at night helped reduce the stress and the number of ones he has <3
you’ll wake up from a nightmare, crying out as you shoot up and he’s there for you from the very start, sitting up as well and shushing you, pulling you to his chest
“it’s okay, it’s okay,” he kept repeating as he drew your head near to his chest. “deep breaths, bella,” he encouraged softly, holding your face so that you were looking directly into his eyes while he gave you a gentle smile. he ran his hands through your hair, smoothing it out until your breathing calmed down
is super patient with you throughout the whole process, will not act sleepy in the slightest so that you don’t feel bad for waking him up or anything else
“ ‘m sorry I woke you,” your voice shook as you tried to take a deep breath, wiping the tears away from your eyes.
he took your hands off your face, using his own to brush away your tears with all the care in the world. “don’t be sorry, I was half awake anyway. take your time, love.”
he’ll offer to listen if you want to talk about it, but he understands if you’re not ready yet
tries to coax you back to sleep soon after because he wants you to rest
but he knows from experience how hard it can be when your mind is racing
the reason it’s helped him so much to sleep with someone though is bc it can take your mind off the dream <3
he’ll position you against his chest and between his legs while he rests against the headboard of the bed. he’ll intertwine his arms with yours, rubbing circles on your wrists while he hums softly to distract you
if you’re feeling sensitive to noise, he’ll place his hands over your ears instead, using his thumbs to rub the sides of your head
he’s there for whatever you need him to do. during your first nightmare with him, he’ll still be figuring out how you react to them. after that, he'll remember exactly what you need and want from him. he wants to make sure you feel safe and comfortable no matter what <3
chuuya
wakes up first while you’re still tossing and turning in your dream
he’ll sit up and lean over, waking you as gently as he can. he’ll cup your face as you wake up, brushing anyway any tears with warm hands
“hey, hey, it’s okay. you’re okay. it’s just a bad dream. I’m right here. you’re safe,” he whispered softly as you woke up shaking, your breathing erratic
he kisses away the rest of your tears, touching you so gently and with so much love
asks if you want to talk about it and if you need anything else which he’ll be happy to get for you
afterward, he’ll pull you close to his chest, one hand on your head and the other around your waist, making you feel secure and protected
I think he’d be the type who would keep talking the whole time, distracting you from your thoughts. he’ll talk you through everything he’s doing, he’ll continue to comfort you, and will talk about any other random thing once you both have laid back down
probably tries to make some jokes a little bit before you head back to sleep as well to make you feel better
“sometimes, that stupid dazai shows up in my dreams and I just know it’s not a coincidence. there’s no way that scheming blockhead doesn’t have some mysterious way of communicating and entering people’s dreams. and he does it just to piss me off. ugh, just thinking about it makes me upset,” he ran a hand through his hair, smiling when you let out a small laugh, wiping away the last of your tears with the back of your hand.
he took your hand in his own and kissed it softly, “there’s my pretty girl. see? you’re safe, nothing bad is gonna happen.”
tecchou
does not wake up
you wake up from your nightmare, eyes bleary and heart racing. the only thing you want is to be in his arms so you wake him
once he sees your tears though he’s up immediately, hands on your face as he wipes them away, “oh angel, what’s wrong?”
you place your hand over his own, “just a nightmare…I’m sorry I didn’t know what else to do.”
“nothing to be sorry about,” he says softly, a smile on his face as if you had said something funny, “that’s what I’m here for. I’m glad you woke me up.”
he suggests making a warm drink to calm you down if you’re up for it 
in his experiences, he’s found it best to get up and change his surroundings in order to get his mind off a bad dream
if you say yes, he’ll make you something to drink before sitting next to you in the kitchen. he’ll be with you the whole time, telling you that he’s willing to listen if you want to talk about it or anything else if you don’t want to think about it
will have a hand on your thigh or back, rubbing it slowly to comfort you
when you both head back to bed, he’ll hold you close to him, one hand intertwined with yours to let you know he’s there while the other runs through your hair <3
if you don’t want to get up from the bed, that’s okay too, he’ll ask you what you want him to do and makes sure your every need is taken care of <3
kisses your forehead as you both lay back down, then draws patterns across your skin with one hand. the other one flat against your lower back to keep you pressed against him
if you’re still a little scared, he’ll continue to comfort you and reassure you that it’s okay. he’ll wipe away any more tears and stay awake the whole time. he tries to make sure he hears your breathing slow and that you’ve fallen back asleep before he closes his own eyes again to make sure that you get the rest you deserve <3
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cloudcountry · 1 year
Text
why not me?
SUMMARY: They're in love with you, but there's one thing getting in the way. That thing? The fact that they aren't your favorite person (and never will be.)
CHARACTERS: All NRC Students minus Ignihyde.
WARNINGS: None!!
COMMENTS: Cater feeling like he's second place because your attention is IMMEDIATELY captured by someone else when you're together makes my soul hurt. Did I write it anyway? Yes. Every time I write Epel I'm reminded of how hard it is for me to grasp his character AJHSDFAJHS
This fic is related to the drabble why me?! linked here!! that part is a fluffy part for idia since there was no one else i could write romantic content for in his dorm C: idia kissers get out of this one........
~~~~~
Heartslabyul
Riddle Rosehearts fails to see the appeal. And no, he’s not saying that because he’s jealous. He just doesn’t get how you and Ace can talk about anything and everything and do it with smiles on your faces. Riddle’s tried so hard to get your attention, almost pathetically so, and it’s like he’ll never be anything more than Housewarden to you. He resigns himself to his fate of getting over you when he sees the two of you hugging, loud proclamations of never wanting to let go ringing through his ears like a death toll.
Trey Clover can’t blame you. He really can’t, because both you and Cater have such magnetic personalities that seem to just click. Yes, it hurts, because he wishes he could be the one you lean on at Unbirthday parties, taking silly pictures and posting them to Magicam with sappy captions. Though, he supposes that isn’t his style. Maybe he’s too boring for you, he’s been called that before. As long as you’re happy though, Trey supposes he doesn’t mind. He just wishes things could have gone different.
Cater Diamond's content being your friend. That’s what he tells himself, just another lie stacked upon castles and castles of them. Even the Queen of Hearts can’t compete with his towering structure, built of his facade and held up by his pride. He takes pictures with you but avoids the heart emoji, he holds up bunny ears behind your head but avoids pressing his lips to your cheek. He keeps you at arms length, because whenever you’re with Trey, it’s so obvious he’s the one you’d want. He posts another picture, this one of you and him at the Unbirthday party, and it’s only him and you that knows that the failed shot was of you spinning around at the sound of Trey’s voice the second the camera went off.
Ace Trappola doesn’t understand your taste in men. You hang around Deuce all the time and make him all flustered and it makes his blood boil. His heart seizes every time he sees the two of you together and he knows it’s because he loves you. You, who always laughs at his jokes and puts up with his stupid shit and who told him that he wasn’t a burden to be around when he and Deuce got into a fight. That same person who he treasures so dearly treasures the person that could not be more different from him, and for once Ace knows he should just give up because you’ll never be his.
Deuce Spade finds himself getting angry more often than he’d like. It’s irrational most of the time, little parts of his delinquent side coming out when he least wants it to. You’ve seen that side of him before. He wishes you hadn’t. Because maybe if you hadn’t, you’d like him more than his own Housewarden, who you’re currently feeding bits of strawberry tart to. Riddle’s face is bright red and Deuce feels his grip on his fork growing tighter. A pit of ugly jealousy twists in his stomach as Riddle mumbles something that makes you laugh, and Deuce can’t help but wonder where he went wrong.
Savanaclaw
Leona Kingscholar can’t find it in himself to care. Not when you’re fawning over Jack like he’s the greatest student NRC has ever had, not when you spend every waking moment with him, not when your conversations with Leona become shorter and shorter. He finds himself waking up alone time and time again, without a cheerful call of his name from outside his door and your blurry form bringing him little snacks. He grumbles as he hears your laugh from outside his door, except you keep walking. Of course you wouldn’t check on him, but he can’t help but get his hopes up every time. Pathetic.
Ruggie Bucchi feels a pit in his stomach as you lean your head on Leona’s shoulder, pointing out something in his textbook that the prince isn’t even paying attention to. Ruggie grips his magical pen tighter, gritting his teeth as Leona grumbles something incoherent and flops on your shoulder in return. You look embarrassed, Ruggie realizes, tearing his eyes away from the display in front of him. He’s never seen Leona this happy. He’s never seen you this happy. Not even when you’re with him.
Jack Howl doesn’t want to question your choices. He adores you, as gruff and cold as his affection may be. He wishes he could express his emotions better when he sees you and Ruggie, laughing and smiling and touching each other like it isn’t a big deal. He feels like he can’t breathe when he sees you two holding hands, and he feels nauseous when Ruggie leans his head on your shoulder. There’s a part of his brain that he hates that whispers jealous little thoughts into his ears, thoughts that he’s ashamed to admit are his. Great Seven, why couldn’t you be like that to him?
Octavinelle
Azul Ashengrotto feels sick to his stomach as he watches you talk animatedly to Jade, eyes shimmering like the stars the Vice Housewarden loved to admire. He sees the exact same look in Jade’s eyes, the look he has when he looks at his mushrooms or when he talks about a new bird he spotted on the trails, except it’s different. Azul doesn’t want to put a word to it, not when you reach for Jade’s hand and he takes it, because all Azul can think of is how that should be him.
Jade Leech is a background character in your life. That’s the role he’s been assigned and that’s the role he’s decided to be content with. He knows you won’t give him anything more than a fleeting glance, not when you’re hanging off Floyd’s arm like he’s everything you see. Jade is just a smear on the window, a blurry afterimage of his brother. There’s no use contemplating what you could have seen if you looked a bit deeper, because you didn’t. You favor his twin, and he can do nothing about it.
Floyd Leech knows what it’s like to want something someone else has, but never like this. It’s always been a feeling that surfaced when Jade got a treat before him, but this is not that. This is you, his Little Shrimpy, giving Azul your undivided attention while he talks about the monthly earnings of the Mostro Lounge. He whines and pouts and hollers into your ear, only to be pat on the head and ignored again like he’s only an afterthought. Azul gets to have all the fun with his Shrimpy, and that’s not fair.
Scarabia
Kalim Al-Asim invites you over as often as he can. He’s cheery and excited and absolutely delighted by your company as he shovels food onto your plate. Maybe he’s an idiot or maybe he's just dense, but he somehow misses the glances you send Jamil when he exits the kitchen. It hits Kalim like a truck one day when Jamil offers you heart shaped cakes, displayed all prettily on Scarabia’s best golden platter. You look taken aback but flustered, lashes fluttering as you turn your gaze to Jamil. He smiles down at you with a softness that Kalim has never seen him wear, and it’s like a knife in the heart. Oh. It’s Jamil. You’re accepting his invitation for Jamil. Oh Great Seven, you’re in love with Jamil. He excuses himself with a fleeting smile, running to his dorm room the second he’s out of view, collapsing onto his bed with a broken sob. Why did it hurt so much?! He should be happy for you.
Jamil Viper doesn’t even bother. You have his heart resting in the palms of your hands, but it’s like the weight of the organ is nothing because you can ignore it so easily. He watches you every day, observing your habits and mannerisms. He brings you and Kalim snacks as you laugh and study and talk, talk as casually as friends do, and Jamil wonders what it would be like to have that with you. He can’t though. He can’t, because he’d be competing with Kalim again and that’s never worked out in his favor anyway. Kalim always has to win, even if Jamil has to give up the one person who took the time to think about how he felt.
Pomfiore
Vil Schoenheit likes to pretend he doesn’t mind. He pretends he doesn’t like you as much as he does, because if he lets his emotions show you’ll surely feel obligated to apologize to him. He watches you as you talk happily with Rook, your hands intertwined and swinging as if you’re together already. The thought leaves a sour taste in his mouth, but he says nothing as the two of you prattle on. Leave it to you to capture a few hearts on campus and break most of them, Vil Schoenheit’s included.
Rook Hunt thinks the way you look at Epel is beautiful, though he wishes it were him. He honestly doesn’t mind that much, even if he yearns to see that same affection boring into his soul. He’s content for now, watching you watch Epel, the affectionate look on your face reflected on Rook’s. It’s painfully obvious to him what’s happening in that little heart of Epel’s as he returns your look, and as long as Rook gets to see you bloom with love then he’ll be satisfied. (Rook Hunt is also, unfortunately, a liar, and he knows it will hurt him in the end.)
Epel Felmier grits his teeth as you greet Vil with a cheery “hi beautiful,” and he returns the sentiment in kind. The way you two smile at each other makes him feel sick, so much so that he pushes away his food. Whenever the two of you are in the same vicinity, it's like Epel can't breathe anymore. He refuses to acknowledge what the feeling is, because that would be losing. Of course. Of course of everyone his first love could have picked, they fell in love with the one man he disliked more than anything.
Diasomnia
Malleus Draconia gets a sinking feeling in his chest whenever he sees you with Lilia. He thought you and him were friends, close enough to act casual with each other. He’s never had that with someone before, and he’s definitely never felt this before you. Beautiful, accepting, kind you. But when he sees you with Lilia, goofing off and laughing and smiling, he realizes that what he thought was special meant absolutely nothing to you.
Lilia Vanrouge thinks the situation is funny in the cruelest way possible. He stares at you with affection blooming in his eyes, and yet he sees you look at Silver the same way. Lilia has lived a long time, and he knows nothing lasts forever, but the fact that he never even got to have you will always eat away at him. As long as he gets to see the growing affection in Silver’s eyes grow for you too, he thinks he will be okay.
Sebek Zigvolt can’t blame you! You’re so obviously in love with Malleus, and what an excellent choice you’ve made, human! There is no one…better in the love…department than...the Young Master...He can’t do this. Why won’t you look at him? There isn’t a single thing he can train or improve that would ever steal your attention from his Master, and Sebek knows it’s blasphemy to try. So why does he want so badly? Why does seeing you and his Master make him so bitter?
Silver shuts his eyes. Sebek is loud as usual, and your attention has been completely captured by him. He’s aware that he tends to blend in, especially when Sebek is around, but knowing that doubles as an excuse. Of course you’re not paying attention to Silver, because he’s sleeping and Sebek is talking. It isn’t until he sees the two of you walking and talking together, his fellow guard’s cheeks red as he turns his head away from you, that he realizes you act like that regardless of whether Silver’s around or not. Because you like Sebek, not him.
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venusbby · 1 year
Note
haiii idk if ur doing rq but-
can u pls do bllk bois with their kids and wife🙏maybe them attending a game or going out and the public/media recognises them or something and blah blah blah they become the talk of the town cuz of their resemblance or something like that🤷‍♀️idk just a suggestion, it's entirely up to u. i just want some fluffy family moments😭
do whoever u want and can, and it's a-okay if u can't or don't wanna do it😭👍
p.s if u end up doing it can u pls give the kids names🥹
ok i'll stfu now🫶
family time !!
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🍂 characters/pairings: itoshi sae, mikage reo, itoshi rin x reader (seperate ofc)
🍂 warnings: ages of the kids are not specified (sorry idk how kids work sorry), nicknames like "ma" and "mommy" and "mom" used for reader, sae is the best hubby ever, reo is spoiling his daughter left and right, rin almost curses (almost!!), mention of paparazzi in rin's part, reader tears up a little at the end of rin's part (not angst, don't worry)
🍁 note: here u go anon!!!! im so so so sorry for making you wait for so long. your idea was adorable!!! i hope this makes up for it <3333 thank you for requesting. also i don't know the first thing about kids. like i genuinely don't know what 7 year olds are like. its so funny. pls help anyways enjoy
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🍁 what would it be like to have a family with.... ITOSHI SAE?
"kenji, let's stay quiet."
"but... why? it's morning."
"because your mom is sleeping, and we shouldn't disturb others when they're sleeping."
oh, how difficult it was to keep your lips pressed in a straight line and keep your breath steady— when you could clearly feel two pairs of eyes on your sleeping form. sleeping on your side while facing these two was such a challenge.
sae's voice was incredibly low as he spoke to your son, words coming out raspy from how hard he tried to avoid waking you up. the constant shuffling of your son in the middle of the bed made your hands itch with the urge to ruffle his hair, even when your eyes were closed.
you felt another shift, this time a gentle finger pushing away a strand of your hair behind your ear. you'd recognise the touch anywhere, anyhow.
"ma is really pretty." you heard kenji mumble quietly. (that too at the softest volume ever, because he listens to his father and definitely wouldn't want to interrupt your sleep.)
"she is very pretty," sae sighed, staring at your relaxed face, eyes trailing from your eyelashes to your slightly parted lips as you breathed out. "she works hard for us every day, you know?"
your eyes slightly shifted once he said that, and you hoped he didn't notice.
you heard kenji whisper to his dad. "she's not really sleeping, is she?"
he whispered back to him. "nope, we will just wait until she gives up."
you fluttered your eyes open right after. your son giggled loudly and flung himself in your embrace, dragging the sheets underneath his body along with him. sae usually made the bed afterwards, anyway. "i knew it!"
"good morning, ken." you softly kissed the top of his head, flattening down the wild strands of red hair that became messy due to his weird sleeping positions. while your son gave you a very cheerful 'good morning' back, your gaze shifted towards your husband, who was already staring at you with his lips pressed in a line which almost looked like a small smile. "good morning, sae."
"good morning. we are too smart to fall for your tricks, just so you know." sae took your hand, pressing his lips against your soft skin. "did you sleep well?"
you nodded with a sleepy smile on your face. kenji whipped up his head from your chest to look as well, and he smiled too when he realised that you had gotten the rest you deserved after your long family trip yesterday.
sae calmly shifted out of the bed. he stretched, muscles still sore from how long he had to drive the previous day. he looked back at the cute sight of the two most important people in his life, eyes softening. "hey, ken. why don't you help me cook something for ma? you know what she likes for breakfast."
"i know, let's go!"
you watched sae quietly leave the bedroom with your excited son running after him, right on his footsteps, your heart swelling with love and your face bright with a smile.
for you, this is the best way to wake up.
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🍁 what would it be like to have a family with... MIKAGE REO?
"baby, are you ready yet?" reo asked.
"almost! are you both already done?"
once you wore your earrings, you swiftly turned to look at reo standing in the bedroom's doorway along with your daughter.
as expected, they were completely ready, with reo in his casual (yet obviously expensive) clothes, your lovely daughter wearing a dress which reached below her knees.
a dress that you certainly don't remember buying for her.
your eyes shifted towards the culprit.
"sora, baby, who got you this dress?" your voice was soft, yet your eyes still stayed on the male who didn't show an ounce of guilt on his pretty face.
she noticed your behaviour and sheepishly pointed to her father, her giggles barely contained.
"okay, i did.. just an hour ago." reo admitted, then looked down at sora, a pout on his face. "you promised you wouldn't say anything!"
she shook her head, running towards you. with heels on, you felt so much taller, and your little kid felt so much tinier. you lifted your hand up for a high five, which was returned by sora immediately. "that's my girl."
reo's pout deepened. he walked towards you too. "hey, i deserve a high five too, sora. didn't i play with you while your mommy was busy getting ready?"
you rolled your eyes playfully, making sure your daughter didn't see. she was in her mimicking age at the moment, you would regret it if she rolled her eyes at any and everything you or your husband said.
reo leaned in for a quick kiss that you granted him, "you look beautiful. both of you do."
"you don't look too bad yourself," you mumbled, sending him a wink, which made his heartbeat speed up. even after all these years.
reo snapped his fingers as you all left the bedroom, gaining the attention of your daughter who was focused on fiddling with the material of your jeans. he asked her in hopes that she'd remember, "what are we going to do today?"
"the ball game!"
"it's... it's called football." reo chuckled at her cuteness, letting her tiny hand slip into his as he bent down slightly to carefully walk down the stairs with her. you followed after them, making sure to check that all the lights on the top floor were off before making it downstairs.
"yeah, football! you play that, right?"
"yes, i do! my sora is so smart!"
you smiled unknowingly behind them, noticing your husband's wide grin. you knew how much it meant to him when your daughter showed interest in football. although he wanted her to decide her own likes and dislikes, he wasn't going to let her inherit a company if she didn't want to— and yes, those thoughts are pretty early on since she's still a toddler, but you know that your husband overthinks. he just wants her to like football so she can have a hobby that she likes.
reo and sora continued to walk outside hand in hand, towards the parking lot.
you called out to your husband while checking the house once more, mentally going through the things you carried in your purse just in case you missed anything. "reo, you better not let her choose one of the cars by saying eenie meenie minie mo or else—"
"too late, our ride has already been chosen!" your husband yelled happily from outside, his laugh echoing loudly as you came outside to find your daughter already seated in her favorite car of the day.
"you are so in trouble," you shook your head as you made your way to the car together. your husband shrugged, "let her have some fun, babe. and i'm absolutely fine with being in trouble." he gave you one of those smiles, earning another eyeroll.
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🍁 what would it be like to have a family with... ITOSHI RIN?
"why can't they just leave us the fu- leave us alone when we're with 'kio?" rin huffed, setting down his car keys on the coffee table as you entered the house. your son was already running up the stairs and into your shared bedroom to play with his toys while you and your husband lingered behind him.
"it's alright, rin. calm down." you spoke softly, patting him on the back as you went into the kitchen for a glass of water. he followed. "i just don't get it. we deserve privacy too."
"they weren't bothering us, you know that."
"...i know." he sighed.
"in fact, i just saw an article on the way home. people are going crazy because akio has your eyes, it's so funny." you tried to lighten the mood, succeeding when rin leaned in to look at the article on your phone that you showed him.
he sighed once again, eyeing the picture of the both of you walking on the street with your son in the middle, who had an excited smile on his face while he was looking at you. "he really does have my eyes. and your hair."
you hummed and caressed rin's cheek, soothing him with your quiet voice. "it's no big deal, baby. we can handle the paparazzi."
just then, your son was rushing down the stairs again, blooming with energy from the wonderful lunch you guys had half an hour ago. "i wanna go out again!"
you watched as rin made his way over to akio, seeing him bend down to come eye to eye with the child.
rin observed akio's eyes, finding the resemblance that the public was talking about. a feeling of pride took over his heart. he ruffled the boy's hair. "we will go out again tomorrow. wanna play in the pool for now?"
"only if mom comes too!!"
rin turned his head to look at you, raising his eyebrows in question. he smiled slightly when you nodded and walked towards them.
"of course i'll come! i just need to change. why don't you and your dad go ahead?" you cooed, admiring the two sets of teal eyes that stared at you with admiration and love, akio's being much rounder and bigger than rin's. your husband hummed in agreement.
"let's go, 'kio. i'll give you your favourite floatie."
your son followed after rin as they made their way towards the pool in the backyard, rin sliding the huge glass doors aside to let more of the warm sunlight in.
you knew the pool would calm both of the boys down. it had been a long time since you enjoyed some sun as well. you grinned to yourself as you made your way upstairs to change into some swimming-appropriate clothes, making sure to take some time in order to let akio have some son and father bonding time with his dad.
they were so identical. it was as if a piece of rin was present in akio, and a piece of akio was present in rin. both of them reminded you of each other.
once you came back downstairs, you quietly sneaked a glance towards the boys outside, hearing their muffled voices.
"oh, so you want to play like this?" rin said. the grin on his face made your eyes sting ever so slightly. he splashed some water towards your laughing son who waved his hands around to protect himself from the water.
this is exactly how you imagined rin to be a few years ago, and even though he didn't believe in himself much as a soon-to-be father that time— you knew he had found his safe place now.
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undiscovered-horizon · 11 months
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Amendmends - Kaz Brekker x Reader
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[Part II]
[contains vulgar language]
SUMMARY: When two of your thugs get into a fight at the Slat, you have to go apologize in person. The owner seems suspiciously happy to have you indebted to him.
WORDCOUNT: ~ 1.9k
>>Grishaverse-inspired playlist&lt;<
“You did what?!”
The two men flinch. Feeling too humiliated to look the incandescent bull in the eye, they resort to twiddling their thumbs and riveting their gazes into the cracked, wooden floor. They’re not greenhorns and neither are they unfamiliar with your character, so it’s unclear why they ever thought this confrontation would go in any way differently. Perhaps some juvenile naivety told them this moment would, simply, never come.
“We got into a fight,” one of them repeats. Fear makes his voice waver, resounding a lot quieter than the first time he announced their misdeed. The humiliation only gnaws further at his heart as the boy involuntarily relives all of the reprimands he had received from his parents.
His partner in crime lets out a defeated sigh. The man nudges his friend and whispers: “Come on, Sorokin, she’ll know anyway.” With a sour expression on his face, he lifts his gaze to look at the woman standing behind the desk. Your nostrils are flared as you breathe hard trying to maintain composure. The unfaltering scowl you wear so well makes him gulp. “We started a fight at the Slat. One of the patrons was cheating, wasn’t even doing it very well, so we thought it was our civic duty to put it to a stop.”
You lean forward ever so slightly, hinging on your arms. Although you’re in all ways smaller than them, it doesn’t affect their fright:  wolves, after all, also seem not as big when they're preparing to pounce. Words leave your mouth like venom slowly dripping from a viper’s fangs: “You have no fucking civic duty on the Crows’ turf, you bellend.”
“Boss, we-”
Sorokin immediately stops talking when you raise your hand in a quieting gesture. You close your eyes and clench the raised hand into a fist. Only after a slow, deep breath can you continue:
“Just shut your mouth while you still can move it freely. I don’t care for your excuses and promises to do better because I’m the one who has to go to Kaz Brekker and apologize on your behalf.” You push yourself away from the decorative, engraved desk. Unknowingly, you’re shaking your head, looking away from the two bullyboys for a moment. In a gesture of frustration, you pinch the bridge of your nose. “Saints only know what he’ll want for giving up retaliation,” you say under your breath. A moment of tense, reflective silence goes by before your gaze returns to the two men. The scowl immediately reappears. “What’re you standing here for? Fuck off.”
With a flick of your wrist, the crooks bolt out the door, praising the Saints that they get to see another day. Maybe they are the ones scrubbing the floors pro bono for the next two weeks but at least they’re alive. Considering the genius loci of Ketterdam, that is as good as anything.
Jesper and Inej do not pay attention to the constant opening and closing of doors to the Slat - there’s no point. Their curiosity, however, is piqued when the noise of the lively club becomes muffled and cheering turns into low murmurs and grunts. Although positioned in completely different places, they simultaneously look towards the entrance, wondering what menace could strike reluctance into the heartless thugs of the Barell.
As expected as it wasn’t, considering the area, it’s a woman. In an utter lack of taste and respect for social etiquette, you’re dressed in rather expensive men’s clothing. You even have a decorative cane with a panther’s head on top, although the item is strangely short, suggesting that it’s more of a status symbol than a mobility aid. Golden accessories, proof of acquired wealth, glimmer in the low, yellow lights of the club. 
“Should we do something?” Inej whispers to Jesper, making him flinch in surprise. Really, how is she doing it time and time again?
“No way, Inej,” he laughs dryly at the notion. “It’s the Golden Panther herself. We’ve no bad blood with her and let’s hope it can stay that way.”
The name isn't in any way the stranger's own incentive - only what the victims saw right before being knocked out cold: golden, heavy rings and a black tattoo of a roaring panther on the back of your hand. Some of the more egotistic goons in Ketterdam try to mimic the artwork with other supposedly dangerous animals but it never has the same ominous feeling.
“Then why is she walking straight towards us?”
His gaze returns to the unexpected guest. Inej is right - in an unbothered stroll, you’re making your way to them. When the Panther’s stern, cold gaze meets his, the man feels anxiety building up in his chest. If Kaz had a sister, that would be her. In any other circumstances, he’d laugh at that thought but with the fiend in front of him, humour has somehow fled.
Jesper slowly puts down his drink, his other hand mindlessly resting on top of the revolver behind his belt. “I don’t know but I don’t like this.”
Inej scrunches her nose. "I always imagined it’s a man."
"Well, I thought she'd be, you know, bigger,” Jesper says in a hushed voice. The Slat is strangely quiet and you’re sure to hear his comment if he speaks any louder. “Considering Panther and all."
You stop in front of them. Physique-wise, you don’t seem very threatening to either of the Crows. No, it’s something in the air, as though your presence elicits some kind of aura that makes people want to flee from sight, noisy lowlifes become as meek as sheep. Jesper wonders if this is how aristocrats and politicians feel when someone mentions the Queen of Beggars.
Golden Panther looks between the two of them. In an unexpectedly polite fashion, both of your hands are holding the decorative cane. After a moment, your gaze stops on Jesper. You look him up and down but he’s unsure whether he should feel threatened or flattered.
“You’re the one who got into that fight yesterday, aren’t you?” you finally ask.
Oh, that.
Jesper grips the gun tighter. “Yeah, that would be me.”
You put your hand into the pocket of your dress trousers, apathetic eyes still set on him, and pull out a wad of banknotes. Without looking at them, never even thinking to count the amount, you lay it next to his drink on the bar counter.
“For the trouble. Buy yourself something nice. Where’s the owner?”
“In his office,” Jesper answers with a vague motion of his hand.
With a curt nod of your head, you leave the two Crows to find the man you’ve been truly looking for. When you’re out of earshot, the stairs creaking under your weight, Jesper turns to Inej:
“Did I just get pocket money from Lady Belladonna?” he asks in a hushed voice.
“I’m afraid you did.”
Immediately, he grabs the wad of cash, counting the banknotes. His eyes only grow wider as the stack of 50s doesn’t seem to end - Jesper Fahey is suddenly something of a rich man.
You don’t knock. The door swings open and Kaz is about to tell off anyone who’s disturbing him when he notices you standing on the threshold. Without a word of either warning or welcome, he grabs his cane. Twisting off the top of your staff, you pull the accessory slightly apart, revealing a sharp blade hidden inside.
“Show me yours, tough guy. Bet mine’s bigger,” you jest. Then you close the cane and Kaz, although hesitant, lets go of his. “I come in peace.” 
“What brings you here?” he asks impatiently.
You take a deep breath and sigh. The chair in front of him is left vacant but considering the reason for your visit, it would be impolite to sit around. “I’d like to apologize.” Kaz raises his eyebrows in surprise. He knows the business well enough to know that people of your sort don’t adhere to courtesy often. “The fight that broke out yesterday? My boys. They weren’t supposed to be here but that doesn’t change anything. What’s done is done and since they wear claws around their necks, they’re my responsibility.”
For a moment you look away, biting the inside of your cheek. It’s the right thing to do but Saints’ mercy, is it humiliating. Kaz doesn’t say anything, curious anticipation egging him to let the tense silence squeeze the truth out of you.
You look at him again. The anger of having to fawn on someone makes you tighten the grip on your cane. "I can pay you for the damages but I can't undo the injuries or the fucking headache. Instead, I'm offering you my service. One job, no matter how bloody insane, I'll do it. Just leave my boys alone."
Kaz sits back in his chair, taking in the fascinating turn of events. In all of your demimonde courtesy, you’ve done exactly what he had expected you to do. You swear there’s a shadow of a grin creeping unto his face and that’s when you realize you’ve probably manoeuvred yourself into a problematic, inescapable corner. If half of the stories they say about him are true, you’re going to shake hands with death herself in the nearest future, probably more than once.
A scoff flies past your lips. You look at him through squinted eyes but he doesn’t seem to mind that. Why would he? He just scored a jackpot without stepping out of his office.
“I know that look, Brekker,” you stress the sudden lack of courtesy. “You’ve been waiting for this moment your whole fucking life, haven’t you? The Golden Panther at your beck and call.”
“There is one job that will utilize your methods,” he puts a strange, although meaningful stress on the word, “but it’s nothing sure for now.”
He plays his cards well. So well, in fact, that you can’t tell whether he’s honest or bluffing. The only thing you are sure of is that if he lives up to his name, Kaz is bound to have some kind of ace up his sleeve, even if it’s unadulterated rage - he will either find or create a problem for you to solve, never as much as entertain the thought of passing up on your offer.
There is simply no way that a man of his skill and expertise doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing. Like those miserable churchgoers praying to the Saints for a sign, you too now have to obediently await the fateful word of Kaz Brekker. You’re a fiddle and through your own goodwill, you have appointed him a fucking virtuoso.
“I’ll be anticipating your word, Brekker,” you grit the last bits of politeness through your teeth. “In the meantime, don’t try to think about me too often. Might neglect your business and the panther…” your voice trails off and you shrug with faux innocence, “The panther only needs to find you once.”
“It’s a bold assumption that I spend any minute of my time thinking about you.”
“Well, you’re doing it now, aren’t you?” The cocky smile on your face only annoys him. “До свидания,” you throw while vaguely saluting at him.
When the door shuts behind you, Kaz lets out a frustrated sigh. You’re going to make this whole operation incomparably easier for him - that is, if he doesn’t kills you first. For the sake of his sanity.
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harbingersglory · 3 months
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Hello, could I have transfem Signora x fem!reader smut? Any scenario is fine, just need dom Signora railing me 😩
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{☆} characters la signora {☆} notes drabble, fem reader, sub reader, dom la signora, transfem la signora {☆} warnings 18+ content, restraints, temperature play, face fucking, degradation, pet play
There's a moment of silence that lingers for far too long, the cold nipping at your exposed skin until you feel shivers wrack your body. You squirm instinctively, seeking out the fading warmth of the thick furs laid out beneath you, yet finding nothing but the cold that chills you to your bones. You can't even see, your eyes covered by black fabric, silk tying your arms together behind your back.
It's almost torturous waiting like this. Your knees sink further into the fur as you lean your weight forward slightly, exhaling a shaky breath. You begin to wonder if Signora left you there– maybe you'd annoyed her earlier and she was punishing you. You hoped not. She wasn't known for being lenient when it came to punishments.
But the brush of her fingers along your jawline squashed that fear, your breath hitching as her thumb glided over your throat, the heat of her skin making you shudder. The contrast of the cold room, of your freezing body, to the unnatural heat that simmers beneath her skin is immense– your knees would have definitely buckled if you hadn't been kneeling already.
"Did you think I'd left you here all alone? You're shaking like a dog." The soft, biting lilt was nothing more than a murmur, but for you it was impossible not to hear the pleased tone beneath the roughness of her voice. Your heart leaps into your throat when her fingers trace back up along your jawline, lifting your head and tilting it back just enough to be uncomfortable.
You open your mouth to speak, but your words are silenced by her thumb slipping past your lips instead– you don't fight back, even though the sudden intrusion catches you off guard enough you almost bite her finger instead. You almost consider doing it anyway, but she's so rarely in a good mood it feels rude to spoil it.
"Pets don't speak until they're told," She chides, pressing down on your tongue slightly and laughing at the way you almost choke in surprise. "And I don't remember giving you permission."
You can only manage a garbled whine in response, your face burning in embarrassment– but it's quickly silenced by the click of her tongue and the creak of the old chair you know sits by the fireplace, her thumb sliding out between your lips to drag you closer. Close enough to feel the rush of heat across your skin as your cheek is pressed against her thigh, her hands resting on the back of your head. You can't see it, but you sure can imagine the smug smile that must be tugging at her lips right about now.
"Let's see about fixing your little disobedient streak, darling." She murmurs, digging her nails into your scalp and tugging you even closer, the furs beneath you doing little to prevent the ache in your knees from kneeling. But you don't complain– you know what she wants, and you want it too. "Open."
Like the dog she seems so fond of treating you as, you listen– you're not as surprised this time when her fingers fill your mouth, forcing it open even further until you can feel the saliva collecting and dribbling down your chin. She doesn't seem to mind, even laughing at how pitiful you probably look, drooling all over her fingers.
But Signora is a hard woman to satisfy, and this will hardly do anything other then work her up enough to really break you in. You can just barely hear the rustle of fabric over your heartbeat, gloved hands tugging you closer and forcing you to press right up against the edge of the chair. It's almost uncomfortable, the way the chair presses against your chest, but she always has you teetering on that fine edge.
"Perhaps you can be trained after all." Signora's voice is like a balm, the heat of her body driving away the cold and urging you impossibly closer, until you feel her hand guide you down just as her fingers slip out of your mouth again– right up until you feel her cock against your cheek. "Show me that you can be obedient, mutt, and maybe I'll let you sit on my lap."
You know she's just dangling a treat just out of reach, but you can't help but reach for it anyway.
Your tongue drags across the underside of her cock, so slow you can hear the hiss that rattles in her chest halfway between pleasure and impatience. You take your time anyway, lingering until you reach the tip and press a kiss against it. You almost wish you could see her face, but she's never been fond of expressing anything outwardly when you can see it– just the idea of her brows furrowed, of her face flush and her lip caught between her teeth..it's enough.
It's not hard to imagine it anyway when the heat grows hotter, nearly turning the room into an oven before she catches herself. You aren't stupid enough to mention it, but your smile must be enough, because a low growl makes you shiver– so you drag your tongue from the base to the tip again, revel in the way it throbs beneath your tongue. For a moment you almost have something like control, your saliva dripping down her aching cock as you lap at it like a mutt.
But you're both growing impatient– the sharp click of her nails against the chairs arms makes you shudder, urging you to lift yourself up just enough to wrap your lips around the head with a muffled groan. You consider dragging it out just a moment longer, just to see if you can get her to whine, but she knows you better then you do– before you can even blink, her hand shoves you down. You, predictably, gag. Your throat burns from the stretch, but it's not unpleasant, eased by the pleasured hiss that tumbles from her lips. Signora at least has the mercy to let you get used to it for a moment before she drags you back up, the emptiness in your throat making you whine before she's shoving her cock back down your throat. Your eyes sting with unshed tears, your own sounds of pleasure muffled and garbled as she does it again– and again.
"Finally quiet, mutt?" She laughs, but it's strained– her voice quivers slightly as she fucks your throat like your nothing but a toy to her, drool dribbling down your chin and tears staining the blindfold. "If I knew it was this easy to shut you up, I'd have done it a long time ago."
You so badly want to do something, but with your hands tied behind your back and her fucking your face so rough, so fast, you can barely even think..there's not much you can do but let her, your cunt clenching around nothing. You really hope she wasn't lying about that reward, for once. You're practically dripping on her floor while she uses you, just barely able to squeeze your thighs together for a fraction of friction.
It only serves to make you more desperate, though.
"Fuck– or maybe you're too stupid to know better. You'd just let any pretty woman with a cock use you," Her breathing was getting heavier, more strained, but her grip on your hair didn't relent. Neither did the harsh thrust of her hips, her cock constantly hammering into your throat until you felt dizzy. "You're lucky I'm even willing to train a mutt like you."
Your mind starts to feel fuzzy, the words blending together until she digs her nails into your scalp and forces you down again– and keeps you there. You nearly gag again when you feel her shudder, her cock throbbing in your mouth as her cum spills down your throat, your hands straining against the silk binding them together. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, nostrils flaring and your body tensing– you don't even realize you'd briefly lost consciousness until your find yourself on her lap, rather then on your knees, her hands brushing the strands of hair stuck to your face with sweat out of your eyes.
It's the most gentle she's been all night– and likely as gently as she will be tonight. You lean into her touch anyway, groaning softly and shuddering at the taste of her on your tongue mixed with her cock throbbing against your thigh.
"I'm not done yet, darling. Did you think I'd let you get away with a little light training?" She laughs, cupping your jaw and pressing a kiss that's far too gentle to your cheek, the warmth of her body almost suffocating– but you welcome it, like you always do.
So you nod, smiling drowsily and spreading your legs like a good pet should.
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kamesama · 4 months
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the character ai got my thoughts running. anyway, i've been on a tōji brainrot for a while soooo. enjoy this slow-burn. note: fem! reader; some suggestive moments but nothing n/sfw.
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arranged marriage with zenin tōji ( a slow-burn )
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it's neither of you being overjoyed by the prospect. puppets to your families, you found yourselves in a dead end. sure, you could have dug and crawled your way out of it, but it was easier to bite your cheeks and nod your heads. you fill your mouths up all the way to the roof, to the back of your teeth and clench your jaws until the time comes to break that thick silence between just the two of you.
the wedding night is everything save for the typical fantasy involving butterflies-in-your-gut kind of intimacy, joyous smiles, happy tears and sweet promises that chain you for life. there is none of that. there is only silence, so heavy that it sits on your shoulders and an unimpressed look on your faces as irritation eats you up.
tōji scoffs and scowls, but he doesn't care. he has no interest in tending to a spouse he didn't choose, let alone one that was handpicked solely to spite him and stomp on his pride. his voice is flat, his shoulders relaxed and his gaze indifferent. he doesn't love you, and he is not going to act like he does. he might just break the spiteful silence with a comment of, well, this sucks, doesn't it, because he knows that you're not beaming with joy, either.
it's not sharing the bed, or sleeping back-to-back with a pillow wall between the two of you. it's complaining about the snoring, tossing and turning, or sleeping so damn quietly that one could think they're sharing a bed with a fresh corpse. it's getting irritated with the way tōji's toothpaste drips into the sink never to be washed off the smooth surface, or with the clothes draped over the chair and mattress. it's the bite in your voice and furrow of tōji's brows as the skin right beneath his eye twitches.
it takes time. god, it takes time. but eventually, there comes a ritual of sitting in the living room with a cup of hot beverage in front of you, or a bowl of instant noodles with hard-boiled eggs on top. tōji's eyes boring through the plot of whatever tv show you occupied yourself with before you converse about the most mundane things with bitter smiles, lamenting your fates underneath a breath of sarcasm. conversations drag themselves through transformation into something deeper, more sincere and one day both of you might just laugh cordially. it's like having a weirdly close friend at home, a roommate that you don't know how to look at rather than a spouse, but soon enough you chatter about your high school crush, tōji's type of woman and whether or not lacy lingerie looks better than smooth. soon enough you have your fair share of inside jokes and soon enough you realise that you share a favourite candy.
it's using one another to scratch that itch, to satiate that desire, to bite one another's lips out of pure utter frustration and lust. you still fall asleep back-to-back, but at least you got something out of it; a hickey. a high. a hint of relief as that tension evaporates from your muscles before your head smashes into the pillow and fatigue overwhelms you.
or it's practicing small touches that feel more awkward than a teenager's first kiss. starting to rest your cheek against tōji's shoulder when you watch a movie. tōji leaning in just a little too close to the side of your face while you cook something or tend to your hobbies. putting your cold hand in his pocket while you stroll as if it's the most natural thing to do, and your heart just barely skipping a beat. it's gentle pondering over little things; you asking about his scar as you dare trace your digit across the edge of his lip and him commenting about your mole in the most curious of places.
having a wife at home starts to sink in into tōji's mind and, regardless of how much he cannot stand your collection of skin-care products conquering the shelf in the bathroom, or how much your attitude irks him from time to time, his eyes will pierce and cut through whoever looks at you the wrong way or dares to utter anything tasteless about how you walk your walk or talk your talk. the word 'wife' drips off his tongue with such intensity that it paints him as the most devoted man to have walked upon the face of the earth.
likewise, a small smile seems to start gracing your lips as the word 'husband' leaves your mouth, no longer coated in some sense of loathing and rather resembling the way schoolgirls talk about their sweethearts with a dose of virginal shyness. just a little bit.
the ups and downs are heavy and intense, and the fingers your families dip into your life doesn't help in extinguishing any flames of irritation and displeasure. it's a process to talk things through and step over ego and pride, but you've also become one another's routine at this point. the bed feels a little too empty without another person on the opposite side of the pillow barrier. you might as well join hands and live to spite the zenins and all others. it's a promise made in the middle of the night, under the doorframe to the bedroom.
it's slowly but surely coming to tolerate one another, despite the clothes still hanging over the chair and the toothpaste still sticking to the sink. it's learning that tōji seems to melt as soon as his head is in your lap and your fingers in his hair, or that you love that specific type of hug that feels just right. it's becoming friends and lovers, it's fuelling the passion with those embers of frustration that never seems to fully leave you, it's removing the pillow between the two of you so that you can talk about little nothings and whisper how you may just try to find life's meaning together, along the way.
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thank you for reading!
— kamesama.
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kopivie · 6 months
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trick-or-treat.
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# — pairing: spidey!kazuha x gn!reader
# — characters: gender neutral reader, spider-man!kazuha
# — warnings: a little suggestive.
# — tags: fluff, kisses (bc who am i if not a madman for kisses), mild hurt/comfort, BANTER YIPPEE!!, this is zuzu's way of making up for the fact that he all but forgot kazuha's birthday, apology fic
# — notes: (PLEASE READ!!) this is... not at all what i intended to do. it's 1:30 am and i just came down from a much needed high. as my head cleared, i noticed that this fic was like, riddled with flaws, but i feel too good about this to second guess it and feel bad. anyways, this is heavily inspired by this fic that 🎻 anon sent in my asks, as well as a follow-up to this fic i wrote on @awlumii last year on kazuha's birthday. i hope you enjoy and please do let me know what you think! i could really use some feedback.
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✦ — 🎃 — ✦
There's a knock on your door. You stare at the entry to your apartment and think: "How mean would it be if I ignored them right now?"
In your defense, you've been giving out candy all day. All. Day. You figured that there would at least have been a lull in the early afternoon since children had school to attend, but no — you've been giving out candy to all ages from as early as 10:30 this morning. It's a good thing you stocked up on candy late last month, otherwise you would've had to ruin the days of some very enthusiastic trick-or-treaters. So after setting aside a bucket full of your favorites and giving out the leftovers until about 10 at night, you finally thought yourself ready to curl up on your bed with your softest blanket. You were halfway to dreamland when some monster started pounding on your door.
(So maybe you're exaggerating a little. But who could blame you? You're tired and you want to sleep.)
And so, here you sit, your legs half-tangled in your weighted fleece blanket as you glare at your door and hope that your unwanted visitor is telepathic and gets the message that you want them to leave. Scram! you think. You raise your voice in your head. Get out of here. Shoo! Begone!
…They knock again. (Kind of a dick move if they can read minds.)
The groan you let out is obnoxiously loud and is most definitely heard by whoever is on the other side of the door. You hoist yourself to your feet and trudge to the door, but you don't open it quite yet. Judging by the fact that this person has yet to say anything, you figure that they're old enough to know when their presence is not welcome and left.
Wrong. You're too optimistic. They knock again.
You sigh and once again, hope that the sound carries through the door. "Who is it?" You try to make yourself sound as unfriendly as possible. Considering how cranky you are, you don't have to try very hard.
"Trick-or-treat..?" The voice on the other side is muffled by the door, but also by something else. Fabric, probably. All you know is that their voice is deep enough to be an adult's.
You click your tongue. "Trick." You almost snicker. It's a little refreshing not doling out treats for once. "Go home."
"Can I at least give you a treat?" The person asks.
You blink. They didn't leave? "Pretty sure that's not how it works," you reply. "I give you treats and you… I dunno, TP my house or something."
"Yeah, well," the person at the door chuckles, "I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to say 'trick', either. Since you're breaking the rules, it's only fair that it's my turn, right?"
Well… Shit. They have a point.
Impressed by the stranger's reasoning, you hum. "Fine. Let me find my costume." You turn to gather your costume and notice that you can't find the full thing. You were so eager to get to bed that you didn't hesitate to drop the thing in the wash. Not wanting to make the stranger wait too long, you improvise. You blindly grab the mask and the blue throw blanket you have folded up on your couch and tie it around your shoulder like a cape. It's a shitty excuse for a costume, but you reason that your exhaustion is a good excuse. You swing open the door and cross your arms over your chest. "Alright, what do you got for-- Oh."
Standing on the other side of your door is none other than Spider-Man himself. The two of you stand in silence as you take in each other's appearances. Then, after what feels like forever, he speaks. "So… a cape, huh?"
You don't hesitate — you grab your door and swing the thing shut as fast as you can, but Spider-Man is faster, catching the door in his gloved hand. You turn your back to him. The mask is obscuring his face, but you already know what expression he has underneath. "Don't say a word." You warn him.
Spider-Man pays you no mind. You can feel him lifting your 'cape' as he inspects it. "Hmm… capes are kinda aerodynamic, but considering how dirty my enemies fight, I don't think that's a very good design choice." You can hear the shit-eating grin in his voice. "I'll give it a five out of ten."
"I said shut it!" You snatch your blanket out of his hands and march further into your apartment with Spider-Man's laughter following at your back. He walks inside and the door shuts behind the two of you. "Get the fuck out, webhead," you seethe. Your voice trembles with shame. "I didn't invite you in."
Spider-Man just walks around you to look you in the eye. "Come now, lovebug," he tilts your chin up with a finger, "you look cute wearing my mask."
You grumble and push his hand away as you struggle for words. You want to say something like, "this isn't what it looks like!" to try and save face, but there's no point in trying. This is exactly what it looks like.
Because the mask you'd been wearing for Halloween -- and the mask you haphazardly thrown on moments ago -- was none other than Spider-Man's mask.
To be fair, these things were a dime a dozen. The people of this city adore the vigilante. It was only natural that kids and adults alike would want to pretend to be him for a day, even if they had no powers like him. You're not exactly one of those people — you've seen firsthand just how brutal Spider-Man's job can be. You wouldn't trade your life for his even if you were offered money. But as you stared at the costume while shopping, you couldn't help yourself. There were obviously cooler, much more interesting costumes to choose from but this one just… called to you.
Hindsight is 20/20, after all. You should've ignored that calling.
Spider-Man takes your chin in his fingers and shakes your head side to side. "I never knew you liked me so much, lovebug. I'm touched."
You scoff. "Don't be."
"Y'know, if you wanted to wear my mask so badly, you could've just asked." Spider-Man leans in and presses a clothed kiss to your cheek. You consider yourself lucky; he can't possibly feel the burn of your cheeks through all that fabric.
You stammer. "Ha-ha. Very funny."
"What? I'm sure I have a back up somewhere." He eyes you for a moment. "You'd look good in it."
Against your will, you wonder if he's saying that he wants you to wear his clothes. Would he ever actually loan you clothes that he's worn? The thought makes your face burn hotter. "Why are you here?" You ask. Anything to change the topic.
Spider-Man chuckles, but plays along. "I haven't swung by in a few days," he says, "so I figured I'd try and surprise you as a trick-or-treater." He shrugs. "I wanted to do some reverse psychology thing where I could trick you into thinking I was just some guy in a costume so you would give me candy."
You process his words for a second. "Okay, first of all, you already are a guy in a costume."
He visibly deflates and places a hand over his chest. "Ouch, lovebug. What if you hurt my feelings?"
"Second of all," you continue, "do you have any idea how many Spider-Men I've seen today?"
"...Is that a serious question?"
"Don't be a smart ass."
"I'm gonna go out on a limb and guess twelve."
You pause. You actually aren't even sure if that's the right number or not. You lost count after three hours of giving out candy to cute kids.
"Am I right?" He asks.
"Who knows?"
Spider-Man huffs. "If there's that many of us around, then what am I even here for?" You giggle at his petulant behavior, and he makes another breathy sound, reminiscent of a stifled laugh. "Did you treat them the same way you treat me?"
"What?" His question takes you off-guard for a moment. You chortle. "Oh, definitely."
"You gave them band-aids and kicked them out, too?"
"Mhm." You cross your arms. "Just slapped a few on some pretend wounds and told them to get the fuck off my property."
The two of you laugh together for a moment. Once the laughter dies down, Spider-Man tugs at your cheek for a brief second. You let him get away with it for now. "You're so cute." He sighs and you can hear something somber enter his tone. "I was worried about you. It's been a week since I've seen you."
It has been a week, hasn't it? You may have been swamped with work at the hospital, but there was never a night that you didn't find yourself waiting on your balcony like an idiot in this chilly weather. You had faith that he was okay — the Daily Bugle printed something new about the "masked menace" every day this past week — but that didn't stop you from longing for his presence. Stories can't compare to the real thing, after all. You're far more taken with the masked vigilante than you'd care to admit to yourself.
You hum. "About time someone else did the worrying for once," you mumble jokingly. "It gets tiring worrying all by myself."
Spider-Man stays quiet. "I've been okay. A little worse for the wear for the past two days, but okay otherwise."
You reach for him instinctively. "Lingering pain isn't like you," you say, already in doctor-mode, "did something happen?"
"No, not like that. I've just been… sad. I guess." His confession is soft as he takes your outstretched hands in his own. He's been more vulnerable around you lately and you're not sure if that's good or bad. "It's been a rough couple of days, that's all."
You rack your brain. What could possibly be paining him that you don't know of? He's already told you that he tells you everything (within reason), so maybe it's something that you already know of? You furrow your brows as you dive deeper into your memory. Deeper, deeper… until you happen across a memory from just about a year ago.
The kiss you shared on your balcony close to midnight.
"Oh my God." You voice your incredulity aloud. "Oh my God! I missed your birthday!"
Spider-Man straightens his posture as he inhales sharply.
How could you have forgotten? He confessed to you on his birthday last year that you were the only person he had left in his life since he hated his birthday so much. October 29th was such a painful day for him — to think that you didn't stop for a second to wonder if he was okay that day. It's not like you would've been able to contact him of course, but what if he swung by after you'd fallen asleep? You should've at least left him a note or something.
"Don't beat yourself up over it, lovebug." The confidence is starting to bleed out of him, you notice. Spider-Man walks over to your couch and sits on the floor in front of it. "I'll be okay. It's not like I was going to celebrate or anything."
You move to the couch and adjust yourself so that the vigilante is between your legs. You two often assume this position when you're finished patching him up and too tired to goof around until he leaves. You would place your hands on his head and press your fingers into the fabric of his mask. Spider-Man told you once that the action was soothing, but you have yet to admit to him that it's your way of trying to conjure up an image of what his hair must look like underneath.
Like always, he gets himself into position, draping his arms across your legs. This time, however, he's looking up at you. You're not sure what expression he might be wearing.
"I wasn't saying that we should've celebrated," you say softly. "I'm just upset that you had to be alone. Are you sure you're okay?" You ask as you massage your fingers across the crown of his head.
He hums. "I am now. I promise."
"If you're ever feeling down, you know you can come and see me." Your words surprise the both of you, but you don't regret them at all. He always seems to be around when you need his company the most, so why shouldn't you do the same for him? Who else would? your mind unhelpfully supplies. "I may not be the best company in the world, but at least you won't be alone, right?"
Spider-Man moves so that he's on his knees facing you. He's so close to your face like this; you inch backwards to preserve your sanity. "You're the only company I need." He says it with so much conviction that you shiver. "But does this mean I'm getting special treatment?"
"What--? You mean from the other Spider-Men?" When he nods, you snort. "Yeah, I guess you do get V.I.P privileges. You get extra treats unlike everyone else."
"Extra?" He tilts his head. "But you haven't given me any candy at all."
You raise a brow. "All that's left is the candy I'm hoarding for myself. And before you ask, no, I'm not sharing any. Why don't you try actually trick-or-treating? People would probably give the city hero the best of the best."
He sinks a little lower, seeming defeated. "...Would you believe me if I said I tried that already?"
"Did it work?"
He's silent.
"...It didn't work, did it?"
"...No. They thought I was just some superfan."
Peals of laughter burst out of you at his admission. "So this is how they repay you, huh?" You say between giggles. "No faith and no candy? That's rough, buddy." You get the distinct impression that he's glaring at you, but that only makes you laugh harder.
Fed up with your insistence on laughing at his misfortune, Spider-Man taps your leg. "Since I get special treatment from you, can I ask for a few wishes?"
You wipe a stray tear from your eye. "I'm dressed as a superhero, not a magic genie."
"Please?"
"Fine, fine." You finally catch your breath. "You get two wishes.
"Not three?"
"I'm not a genie. Don't push it."
Spider-Man puts his hands up in defense. "Alright, two it is. The first is… let me stay with you for the rest of the night."
You shrug. Wouldn't be the first time. He's usually gone by the time you wake up, anyhow. "Granted. Next one's your last — make it count, bug boy."
Spider-Man doesn't react to your nickname. Instead, he just stares at you. A familiar sensation tickles up your spine. He's watching you; you know that stare all too well. "I think you know what I'm going to ask for next." His voice is deeper, smoother than it was mere moments ago.
You nod and he eases himself closer to you. You feel your heart pick up an unsteady rhythm and rather than kiss him normally, you lean in close and press your masked lips to his. He makes a surprised noise before he laughs and melts into the "kiss" all the same. When you pull away, he's still laughing. A very welcome change from the bitter smile you're sure he was wearing when talking about his birthday. "Consider that a freebie," you mutter.
"You're too kind," he chuckles.
Soon, your fingers come to the base of his mask to raise it just above his lips when he suddenly stops you. He reaches for your face and you feel something tug at the base of your neck. Somehow, you completely forgot you were wearing that stupid mask. "It's kinda funny," he half-laughs, "having to unmask you for once."
"You... You can't tell anyone about my identity, okay?" You tease.
Spider-Man rolls your mask up just enough to expose your lips and you do the same to him. Neither of you are sure who leaned in first, but you meet in the middle in a kiss that has fireworks bursting behind your lids. The two of you are greedy, pouring a week's worth of longing into the kiss. The mutual yearning is palpable, so much so that you can hear his breath hitch when you sigh. He rises to the couch slowly and without breaking the kiss, doing his best not to part from you for even a second.
You missed him. Oh, how you missed him — you missed how he would wrap a strong arm around your waist and pull you closer like it was nothing; how he would whisper his adoration for you between breaths; how he would chase after your lips whenever you would tease him with barely-there kisses. You missed the exhilaration, the thrill of knowing that you were the only one Spider-Man would ever treat this way. That you were his and he was yours.
He moves from your lips to your jaw, trailing kisses up to your ear and down to your neck. His pace is unhurried, though he seems eager to pull a reaction out of you. You give him what he wants whether you intend to or not. You press yourself closer to him in a silent request for more and he indulges you; his kisses become little nips, and the nips turn to bites as he starts to leave marks on your neck. He eases you back so that you're laying on your couch and he's hovering over you. The two of you stare at each other for a moment.
"Can I use my next wish?" His voice is rough. When you nod, he leans in once more. His uncovered lips brush against your ear as he whispers. "Let me give you a treat."
Something foreign yet familiar makes you shudder as you nod.
Spider-Man attacks your neck once again. Clearly he was holding himself back earlier, because every mark he leaves stings. He makes them dark and obvious, completely disregarding any warnings you may have given him on other days. You normally would tell him to ease up, to hide the marks that he so desperately wanted to leave on you. But now you let him do as he pleases. You gave him an inch and as expected, he took the mile. He soothes each one with a kiss and muffles your whimpers with his lips.
It takes a while before he's satisfied with his handiwork. Kazuha raises himself up with a shaky breath. Your wrists are in his hands and pinned against the couch. Looking down at you now, all flushed absolutely covered in his marks, he feels something uncontrollable stir within him. He has half a mind to tell you to close your eyes so he can take his mask off, but he refrains.
That's all he ever does when it comes to you. You, the greatest test of his endurance that he will ever encounter in his lifetime. No supervillain with any amount of underground connections or otherworldly technology will ever test his patience and restraint quite like you. For years, Kazuha has weighed the pros and cons of telling you who he is. He always wonders if you would still allow this, if you would still treat him like a lover if you knew who he was — if you knew that he's been lying to you. Though your reaction may not be guaranteed, it's a risk he's more than willing to take.
But he doesn't. Not tonight. Maybe another day when the time is right.
For now, Kazuha releases your wrists and sits himself up. He fixes his mask while you take yours off. You sit up and he watches as you ghost your fingers over each of your fresh hickies. You wince a little when you brush the one on the left side of your collarbone, above your heart. The silence that hangs in the air is evident, but not uncomfortable.
Then, you mutter. "I was supposed to give you a treat."
Kazuha reaches out and touches a hickey left on your pulse point. A sensitive spot for you – you shudder in response. He admires the lingering haze in your eyss. "You did. Thank you, lovebug."
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✧ my goodness. @perpetualcynicism look at what you've done. you've reawakened a monster in me.
✧ edit: btw, the dividers belong to @cafekitsune!! thanks so much for making such beautiful dividers!
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