#i've actually never read any of the books maybe one day

[cow-smells]

Worth your While | Opla! Sanji x reader

Request: I've read that you are in the need for some Sanji request or ideas so here's one for a fic :D

The crew gets into a fight ( it can be the Navy or anither pirate crew) and the reader gets badly hit and Sanji just loses his shit seeing the person that he cared for the most getting knocked out?? I just genuinely wanna see Sanji just go ape shit on people because of it XD and maybe hiw the others in the clue will react to seeing Sanji like that? @smolracoon25

Summary: You and Sanji have been playing the flirting game for way too long. When you get injured, Sanji shows a side of himself you had yet to see.

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: none

A/n: I'm going purely off the live-action so pls have that in mind, also I'm just getting back in to the rhythm of writing after such a long time so sorry if this is poop/ooc/both, love ya :)

Read on AO3

“Don't you ever take a break?”

Zoro's voice coming from behind startled you, forcing you to break your longing gaze at Sanji who was fishing at the bow of the ship. “Huh?” came your wise response.

Zoro looked from you to Sanji. “You've been making moon eyes at him for months now. Don't you get tired? Or are you waiting for him to take his shift staring at you so that you can clock off?”

You felt heat rising to your cheeks. This was far from the first time crew members commented about you and Sanji's – whatever was going on between you two – but this was the first time Zoro called you out so blatantly.

When you didn't respond, Zoro went on. “I just came to tell you we should be docking soon. I'll leave you the pleasure of telling the cook.” with that, he left.

You closed the book on your lap. You really did have the intention of reading when you first head out to the deck, having some time to kill, but then... you noticed Sanji. At first you thought you'd go sit with him for a while, flirt and banter a little as you always do, but you found yourself absorbed in taking him in instead. He was different when he was alone. The way he looked so focused, so deep in thought when it was just him and the sea. Maybe even a little sad. So different from his usual sunny exterior that he put on when he was with people. Falling in to deep thoughts wondering what he might be thinking about – maybe about you? - you sat and stared, not reading as much as a word.

The book discarded, you felt a spring in your step as you made your way to the ship's chef.

The creaking floorboards alerted your arrival. Sanji turned to see who was creeping up on him, and when he saw you, he set his fishing rod aside as a wide smile grew on his lips, his dimples deepening and making your heart miss a beat. “There's my favourite girl. Come here, let me hear all about your day.” Sanji held his arms open, beckoning you to come sit on his lap.

The flirting was nothing new. When you first joined the Strawhats, Sanji was as flirty to you as he was to any other woman; he did not expect to meet his match in you. You were quick to play along, always one-upping him, dancing along the line that separated playfulness and seriousness, never quite picking a side.

The problem was, in reality, you had chosen a side long ago.

You would flirt and giggle and make him blush but never actually act upon anything. Neither would Sanji. He, however, took your playing along as though it was a battle to be won. Sanji would flirt, you'd reply with something raunchy, he would surprise you with something heartfelt. It was as though he knew exactly where to hit in order to get you a little closer to buckling, every time. As time went on he had become so devoted to your back and forth that you noticed he had gradually abandoned all other efforts flirting with other women, to focus entirely on you.

You had to remind yourself that this was a game to him. An instinct, almost. It hurt to think of your relationship that way, but you had to keep that thought at the forefront of your mind if you didn't want to fall even harder for him.

So you would continue to play along, even if that's all that you could have with him.

You chose not to indulge him completely – that was too dangerous for you – and so you opted to bend a knee over the armrest of his chair. Close, but no contact. “Come on, Sanji,” you bent your head in what felt like a bashful manner and said, “you know I spent all day thinking of you.”

You weren't sure if he was blushing or if that was just your wishful thinking. Composing himself, Sanji wrapped an arm around you to hold your waist, lightly tracing circles on your hip. “I beg of you, darling – next time, come find me instead of just thinking of me. I'll make it worth your while.”

You wanted to ask, how will you make it worth my while? Just to hear Sanji go in to detail of what you've been fantasizing about for months. But instead, you opted for a tamer response. “I came to tell you we're docking soon. Maybe I'll find you then and you could make it worth my while with a drink.”

Without missing a beat, Sanji took hold of your hand, bringing it to his lips. “There's nothing I'd enjoy more.” With that, he kissed your hand, his eyes never leaving yours.

Docking started out normal. Everyone knew what their usual chores were when you reached a town, restocking and fixing so that the ship would be in top condition for its next leg of the journey in your search for the One Piece. So while Sanji went in to town to restock on groceries (you didn't pay much attention to the others), you, Nami and Usopp stayed around the ship to fix up some of the damage it took when you last encountered a rival pirate ship. That also happened to be the reason it was just you three when the same rival pirates noticed your ship docked, ready to take their revenge.

The three of you had your individual talents, but you just weren't enough to hold up against an entire rival crew. They had attacked so suddenly and so fiercely – it didn't take long before you were on the sand, fighting to stay conscious. You lost that fight as you watched Usopp try his best to fight off three attackers at once.

You really thought that would be the end for you. You should have known better; it was Sanji's voice you heard as you regained consciousness, motivating you to open your eyes despite the pain that flooded your body.

The beach area all around you was covered with pirates who were taken down, just like you – only that they were your enemies. You first noticed Nami's orange hair – she seemed to be taking care of a bleeding Usopp, his condition worse than yours. Following Sanji's voice, you found him holding the last one of the rival crew by his shirt, throwing punches like you've never seen him before. It took you aback – thinking about it, you had never seen Sanji use his hands in combat. Too precious – need them for cooking, he'd once told you before adding, the only thing more precious to me is you. It had made you blush at the time before you had laughed him off. Now, you were questioning if it was a joke at all.

The man Sanji was holding wasn't putting up a fight – he was far too battered for that, but Sanji didn't stop. He was too far away for you to understand what he was saying to the guy, but focusing hard, you could just about make out half sentences – "to hit a woman" – "don't deserve to breath" – "finish you" – you searched for the strength to get up and stop him. You had never seen Sanji – your happy, cheerful Sanji – so angry, feral even. It scared you a little; but mostly, you knew Sanji would regret it if he were to kill a man who no longer posed a threat. So you grasped at the sand, forcing your aching bones to pick yourself up. But as you were regaining your balance, Sanji finally threw the man to the sand, a look of disgust painting his handsome features. "Finally made a date with her and you ruined it... You hurt her. You're lucky I don't kill you." The man groaned in pain.

In a sharp change, his features went from anger to concern as he finally left the man and turned to where he last saw you laying. His eyes were full of honest pain, until he saw you on your feet – then they read of hope. "Y/n!" Sanji called, rushing to you as he could see your struggle to stand upright. "You- I-" he scanned your body as he reached you, taking in all visible injuries. "Are you – are you okay? Can I help you?" he reached an arm around your waist, waiting for your approval before he held on to help you stay up, so afraid he might hurt you.

"Thanks." his arm around you really helped you to stay up. It was a practical measure, sure, any one of your crew mates would do the same – but when you look up and meet Sanji's eyes, you know that the tense feeling between you two wouldn't have been replicated with anyone else. "I mean it. You saved us. We'd... I'd be lost without you." at that, Sanji smiled that deep-dimpled smile of his at you, the playfulness not reaching his still-concerned eyes.

"Y/n," he started. "are you really flirting with me, at a time like this?"

It was strange how despite all your injuries, you felt less and less of the pain the longer you leaned in to Sanji, close enough to smell his fragrance. A half-smile reached your lips. You couldn't play this game any longer. "Did you really beat that guy up that bad because he ruined what should have been our... date?"

Sanji tensed, obviously not ready to have this conversation now. His gaze dropped momentarily before he wrapped his other arm around your waist, holding you tightly to him. "I had a hundred reasons to kill him," Sanji said, and you felt disappointment bubbling through you until he continued, "but the most pressing reason is that he ruined our date."

Sanji took the opportunity to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear and you couldn't help but smile so big you were embarrassed by it. "I really wanted that drink with you, away from the ship and everyone else. Just us."

You recomposed yourself. You needed clarity. "I'm not playing anymore, Sanji."

Sanji chuckled. "Fancy that. I was never playing at all."

You must have forgotten how to breath at all when he leaned down, his hand finding a rest on your neck as his thumb caressed your cheek. Nearly a whisper, he asked – "Can I kiss you?"

You leaning in served as the consent he searched for. After months of pining over each other, wondering what it would be like – his lips met yours, in a mixture of softness and passion like you'd never felt before. Forgetting you were injured at all you sneaked your arms around his neck, pulling him in, almost afraid of letting this anticipated moment of passion go. Sanji was more than happy to pull closer, a hand on your lower back holding you impossibly close to him.

The moment did, however, find its end as you heard your Captain whoop and holler from afar. "Yeah! Way to go, Sanji! About damn time!"

Breaking the kiss, Sanji nodded at Luffy, his smile lines prominent as he looked the proudest you'd ever seen him.

The crew was more than happy to make a quick exit that night, preferring to not stay around until the rival crew regained their strength. You were helping Nami untie the ropes anchoring the ship to the dock when she said, "I really thought he was going to kill him earlier." you didn't know how to respond. "I've never seen Sanji like that." Nami managed to untie a knot, and Zoro began pulling the rope up on to the ship. "He's really got it bad for you."

Despite that questionable context, you couldn't help but smile. In a burst of honesty you confessed; "I hope so, because I've got it real bad for him, too."

On cue, the ship's chef leaned over the ships railing, looking down to you. "Y/n, my love!" he called, as though the rest of the crew wasn't surrounding the both of you. "I hope you're finished down there, because I've got a candlelit dinner waiting for you up here. And drinks. You know, to make it worth your while," he finished with a wink.

From behind Sanji you could hear Luffy ask, "What about our dinner? Just because you're lovers now doesn't mean we don't need to eat..."

Sanji sighed and turned away from you, probably to go protect your dinner before Luffy demolished it.

"Right then, let's go," Nami said as you finished untying the last rope. "While there's still food to eat."

And for the first time, you boarded your ship not to find the One Piece or the All Blue – you were just happy to be there, with the man you loved.

#vinsmoke sanji #one piece sanji #one piece live action sanji #sanji x reader #sanji imagine #sanji fanfic #sanji fanfiction #vinsmoke sanji x reader #one piece sanji imagine #one piece sanji x reader #one piece live action sanji x reader #opla!sanji x reader

[norrussell]

Friends Don't | George Russell⁶³

Pairings: George Russell x fem!bestfriend!reader

Summary: you go out to celebrate George's home race win, not even imagining what the night will bring

Warnings: smut, drunk driving, unprotected sex

A/N: you will maybe have to necessarily read part 1 and part 2 hehe. For the sake of the plot, we'll pretend some things already happened. I've spent the whole week writing this and only got it to all click together from the third attempt. Third time's a charm, right? But at least had a blast while editing, which is a rarity. I actually enjoy writing these 'chapters' and building this world sm <3

Sundays were a day for rest and relaxation. A day for sitting down with a good book and a cup of coffee. A day for cuddling up with a loved one and watching a movie. A day for taking some time for yourself; a day to reflect and recharge.

That was, of course, unless your best friend was George Russell. And that your Sundays didn't consist of spending most weekends a year at different race tracks around the world. Not all of them, but you tried to be there for him at least once or twice a month, as much as the opportunity allowed.

That afternoon, George took the checkered flag in Silverstone in P1 and now you were in your room, preparing for tonight's celebration. The victory party was going to be wild, and you knew it. You had seen how George celebrated previous wins, and tonight was going to be no different. Especially because it was his home race.

You took a deep breath and glanced at yourself in the mirror. You had dressed to impress, wearing a sparkly blue dress that fit you perfectly. Finishing your look with a pair of strappy heels and a silver necklace, you couldn't help but think about how previous events with George brought you even closer together.

Your friendship kind of became more... intimate. No pun intended. Guess you were both afraid not to lose each other over the past experiences, and that deepened your bond whether either of you wanted to admit or not. Now your only fear was that your closeness wouldn't tear you apart.

A soft knock pulled you out of your thoughts and you turned around to see George standing at the door with a sheepish grin on his face. He was dressed in a crisp white shirt and black pants, his hair tousled in a way that made your heart skip a beat.

"Hey there, gorgeous," he said, his voice low and husky. "Ready to party?"

Never before have you paid any mind to the nicknames he called you, but now a thrill ran down your spine. The way he looked at you made you feel like the only person in the world.

"I am," you said, smiling at him.

As you stepped out of the door, George took your hand in his and led you to the car waiting outside. The drive to the club was short, but the anticipation was high. The party was in full swing when you arrived; loud music, flashing lights, and the smell of alcohol filled the air.

George led you to the VIP section where his friends and family were already celebrating. You saw his siblings and a few of his close racing buddies. You could hear their loud cheering as they saw George walk in with you and feel the envious glares of the other women in the room.

George handed you a glass of champagne and raised his own in a toast. "To the best damn team in the world," he said, looking at you and his friends.

Everyone cheered and clinked their glasses together. You took a sip of the bubbly liquid, feeling it go down smoothly. The night was young, and the energy in the room was electric.

The party kept going on as the night deepened, and the noise of the songs blasted through the room. Glasses were filled up with drinks constantly, making it more of an effort to ignore the effects of the booze. You found yourself on the dance floor, surrounded by George and his friends. The bass of the music throbbed in your chest, and you let yourself get lost in the rhythm.

Throughout the night, each person had a chance to take their turn with you on the dance floor, and eventually you were spinning around in George's arms. The heat of the club mixed with the buzz of the alcohol made your skin flush against his. You could feel his muscles flexing as he twirled you around, his hand firmly holding onto yours. The closer you danced, the more the tension between you grew.

For a moment, you forgot where you were and who was watching. You moved on him like it was just the two of you in the world, your hands moving over his body like never before, and hips swaying in perfect synchronicity. You were so close to him that you could feel his breath on your neck, and the scent of his cologne filled your senses. You felt yourself getting lost in him, and something stirred inside you.

And it seemed like George caught up on your odd behavior as the song faded away. He grabbed your arm and started leading you away from the dance floor until you reached a quiet corner. But your drunken mind wasn't understanding his intentions.

You threw yourself onto him and he had to secure your hips with his hands to stop you from slipping. You let out a hazy chuckle as you started grinding against him once more before he pushed you back against the wall.

"Stop it, that's not why I brought you here."

But you didn't listen. You pulled yourself even closer, letting your lips brush against his neck. "Then why did you bring me here?"

He squeezed his eyes shut, your breath tickling his skin. "The drinks have gone to your head. I brought you here to take a break and cool off a little." he avoided telling you that you were drunk and not acting like yourself, afraid to provoke any unnecessary argument between you two.

Still, you weren't paying any attention. You were too inebriated to realize that your behavior was a little out of character, and you certainly weren't considering the consequences of your actions. You clasped your hands around his shoulders and pressed yourself against him again.

George tried to keep a respectable distance between you, pushing his hip backwards as you pushed yours forward, fighting the urge to get too close. That got you into an interesting position; you were leaning against the wall in between his arms with your shoulders as he leaned into you with his upper body. Your hand naughtily ran down his side, poking him. You knew you probably shouldn't touch him, but you couldn't stop yourself. His muscles strained as he let out a shaky breath.

"You're getting awfully close to me," he murmured, unable to bring himself to look you in the eye. His fingers slowly slid from their grip on the wall.

"Then don't push me away," you said back.

His face was just inches away now, and your lips unconsciously moved closer. The atmosphere between you two was thick with anticipation, a feeling that you currently relished in. Your lips were only a breath away from his when he spoke.

"We can't." his eyes locked with yours.

"Why?" you asked breathily.

"Because we're best friends." his voice was barely a whisper.

He hoped the reason he gave you would remind you of everything you asked from him that first time. But he didn't tell you that he feared you'd regret it when you sobered up, and that it would be his fault for not stopping it.

"And?" in the state that you were, did he really think that would stop you? He couldn't have been more wrong. You wanted to push him to feel something. Anything. "Best friends can do a lot of things." you smirked.

He clenched his jaw, his eyes still on yours. "No, they can't." he gritted, shaking his head.

"You're right." you said, the alcohol clouding your judgment. "They can't do this." and your hips finally met his.

He swallowed hard, trying to stay level headed. "What am I going to do with you?" he said in desperation, his hands pressed flat on the wall behind you, trying their best not to touch you as they dangerously started slipping down.

You placed your hands on his chest, feeling his heart hammering under your palms as you glided them down his torso. "Remember how you said you can read my body language?"

"Yeah," he breathed, nodding his head.

"What is it telling you now?" you whispered against his lips.

"It's telling me we're going to be in big trouble if you don't stop this," he replied. "You have no idea what you're doing to me right now."

"Then don't fight it. Show me." you murmured.

He leaned in, his lips brushing yours. Your arms snaked around his neck and fingers twined through the hair at its nape, pulling him closer. You couldn't believe that you had done all those other things, but never kissed. And when ultimately his mouth closed on yours, it was like finally locating the elusive jigsaw piece on a seemingly ordinary Tuesday while tidying up your home that you thought had been lost forever. It made you almost not want to kiss anyone else ever again — almost, because deep down you knew you shouldn't have been doing this in the first place.

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer as his head tilted to get a better angle. The kiss was soft, tentative, like both of you were very aware of what might happen. You pressed your mouth against his more firmly, tasting him. Parting your lips slightly, you felt the silky wetness of his tongue on yours. You bit his lower lip, letting out a deep moan when he groaned in response, hands that were in his hair tugging on the strands slightly. He groaned into your mouth again, pulling you even closer against him. You had no idea how long you were kissing, but it was definitely not enough.

The kiss broke, and you leaned your face against his neck, panting heavily. He glanced down at you, his lips so close to yours that if you had merely lifted your head, they'd be touching again. The warmth emanating from your body made him want to do things he knew he shouldn’t. He placed his forehead against yours, trying desperately to get control of himself.

"We should get back." he said between breaths. Your head was spinning from the alcohol and his scent and the magical kiss, it took you a moment to realize you were no longer kissing him. You opened your eyes and met with him.

"We should, before they realize we're missing." you nodded. He frowned, but his eyes were smiling. He was relieved, but he was also worried for you and what tomorrow might bring when you sobered up.

"Lets go," he said, turning around, but kept an arm around your waist so as to not let you get lost. You looped one arm around his neck, holding onto his shoulder, and gently hit his other shoulder with your head.

The night was still young and the party was still going. Music was playing, people were dancing, and laughter filled the room. Your friends cheered when they saw you two come in together, but neither of you paid any attention to them; all that mattered was that you were here, with him. Guys grabbed drinks for the both of you from different parts of the room and put it in your hands.

You found a spot on the couch and George sat next to you, his arm around your waist protectively. The conversations flowed easily between you two, and soon enough you both forgot what had happened earlier as you joined the rest of the group in drinking, singing along with music and laughing.

He later found you on the dance floor swaying around completely out of rhythm with a drink in your hand. Your face lit up when you saw him.

"There you are, my champion." you leaned into him, dropping your head onto his shoulder.

"I won the race, not the championship.” he chuckled.

“Mm, don’t care. To me you are the champion.” you slurred, pouting.

“Hey, is everything alright?" he asked, supporting you.

"Mmhmm." you mumbled. "I'm fine."

"You're not fine." you could hear the frown on his face. "You're drunk." he spat as he attempted to take away the half empty glass from your grasp.

"I'm not." you said, feeling yourself lose your balance a little as you swayed back and forth. He put his arm around you to help you balance.

"Yes, you are. I should've taken you home the first time around." he sighed, somehow not surprised you managed to get even drunker. You were both intoxicated for that matter, it's just that George knew how to hold his liquor. And he looked to never go over his limit in case something like this happened.

"No." you tried to pull away from him.

"I'm taking you home." he tightened his grip around you, leading you out of the party. You mumbled something in response, not quite sure what you were saying.

He helped you into his car and buckled your seat belt for you, before getting in himself. He drove slowly, carefully navigating the roads while you were almost passed out in his passenger seat. Every now and then he'd take a hand off the wheel to reach over and brush your hair away from your face or wipe away a stray tear from your cheek if one escaped your eye. As he turned into your street and parked the car, your eyes fluttered open.

"Um, could you walk me to the door?" you asked.

"I was planning on it," he said, unbuckling his seat belt.

Both of your arms wrapped around his left one, holding on for support, as he walked you to your apartment. Your little nap helped clear the haze from your head, but you were still tipsy. When you reached the entrance of your flat, you propped yourself against the door and blinked up at him.

"Do you want to come inside?" inviting your best friend into your home have never before seemed more dangerous and George should've known better than to say yes.

"Do you want anything to drink?" you asked to break an awkward silence that fell among you the moment he shut the door.

Before even waiting for his answer, you made your way towards the kitchen, but he extended his arm and grabbed your waist, preventing you from moving further.

"I think we both had enough to drink tonight," he said.

"Then what do you want to do?" you whispered.

"I want to claim my prize." he must have had a few more drinks than usual at the club to summon up the courage for that sentiment.

You could feel your heart racing in your chest, the alcohol still fogging your mind but not enough to miss the implication of his words. You turned to face him, your eyes meeting his intense gaze. His hand still rested on your waist, his fingers tracing small circles over the fabric of your dress.

"Is that what I am, a prize?"

"No, no." he said quickly, his eyes softening. "You're so much more than that, you know that." his hand cupped the side of your face. "When I saw you looking up at me on the podium today, I realized I couldn't have done it without you. You were the one who had been cheering me on from the sidelines all this time. You've been there for me when no one else was." he leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. "You've been my lucky charm all these years and I want to show you how much you mean to me."

The way he was looking at you made your chest heave with a mixture of emotions. You were both under the influence, and you knew this was not the best time to make decisions, but you couldn't resist him. You leaned in and attached your lips together again, only this time with more passion, more desire. You could feel his hands running through your hair as he kissed you back, his tongue playing with yours, his body pressing against yours.

He pulled away, looking at you with a hunger you had never seen before. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

You nodded, unable to say anything. His lips crashed onto yours, hungrily claiming your mouth as his own. Your body responded to his touch, your hands roaming over his chest and tangling in his hair. He lifted you up, your legs locking around his waist as he carried you to the bedroom.

He laid you down gently on the mattress, his eyes never leaving yours. Climbing on top of you, his lips trailed kisses down your neck and collarbone. You moaned softly, your hands gripping tightly onto his muscular back. He pulled his lips away from you, looking into your eyes.

"Are you sure?" he asked again.

You nodded, reaching up and pulling him back down. He gently kissed you again and you responded in kind, but he pulled away again.

"I'll stop if you tell me to." he whispered. "I don't want to do this unless you want to." 

"I want to." you murmured. The alcohol may have distorted your judgment, but it surely helped your courage.

"Are you sure?" he asked a third time. You laughed softly, trying to push him off. He had you pinned to the mattress, still pressing you down.

"Yes, I'm sure." you said, no longer laughing.

That was all he needed to hear. He kissed you hard, his fingers lightly tracing over the fabric of your dress. He ran his hands underneath, gently resting them on your ribs, and pulled your dress upwards. You lifted your hands above your head, freeing him of the task of removing your dress as you squiggled out of it and freed yourself from the restriction that was your dress.

He kissed you again, letting his hands run over your bare skin. His lips kissed down your throat and chest, his hands undoing your bra. He pulled it away and tossed it aside, taking in the sight of you.

"You're beautiful, you know that?" he said. You blushed, and he smiled. His lips traveled down your leg, gently caressing the outside of your thigh. "But I'm a little jealous, you know?" his lips traveled back up, his tongue tracing over the slope of your breast and hands kneading them softly. "You got to taste me, and I..."

He kissed his way down your body, his hands going over every inch of exposed skin, reminding you how skillfully he handled you that very first time. He reached your inner thigh and slid his hand underneath your underwear. Your breath caught in your throat as you felt his fingers brush against you before a long finger slid inside you. You moaned loudly, spreading your legs apart for him. He smiled against your neck, his teeth taking in your skin, his tongue leaving a trail of fire behind.

His finger slowly moved inside you, circling you before sliding in and out. His hand pulled your underwear down, you kicking them off to the side. His mouth moved down your figure, hovering over your breasts. He teased you for a moment, blowing against your nipples before drawing the tip of his tongue over one. He did the same with the other, his fingers never ceasing to move. His kisses continued further down, over your stomach until they reached your mound.

"Can I?" he asked, peeking at you.

"Please..." you tried to hide the shake in your voice.

His tongue slid between your lips, gently licking you. You could feel his breath, hot and heavy against your sensitive skin. He teased you, his tongue circling your clit before sliding inside you. His tongue flicked over your clit, his hands holding your thighs apart. You spread your legs even wider, your body arching up to him. He leaned in, gently sucking on your clit and you moaned loudly, his tongue moving faster. You cried out in pleasure, your hips bucking against his face.

You were nearing your end, your moans growing louder with every movement of his tongue. You could feel his lips smile against your skin, enjoying the sounds you were making. You cried out, your body tensing as you came, shaking against him. He pulled away, slowly kissing his way up to the top again. He placed a gentle kiss on your lips, not hurrying you up as you sucked in his bottom lip, squeezing out your own juices.

"Taking that trophy is the second best thing that has ever happened to me." he whispered. He kissed you again, this time with more passion, your hands reaching for the buttons of his shirt. "The first, of course, being you. You're my greatest reward." he continued as you trailed kisses down his neck, removing the shirt off his shoulders.

"Stop talking, George."

"Sorry," he whispered as he closed his eyes, surrendering above you.

You kissed his chest, your nails raking up and down his sides, feeling his muscles tense. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, and could sense the urgency in his touch. His hardness pressed against you, begging to be liberated. You pulled away from him, reaching for his belt buckle and his eyes shot open, hands reaching for yours.

"Are you sure?" he asked again. He knew if you go any further there would be no going back and some irreversible things would be done.

"Are you sure?" you asked back, smiling mischievously. "I thought this is what you wanted." your nail dangerously circled around his lower abdomen, causing his breath to hitch with every word he spoke.

"I-I do. I'm just making sure you're not doing it just because I want it." you could tell he was really struggling to hold himself back.

"I think we've already established that..." you whispered against his lips and prompted your body more to his.

"Okay," his hand moved away from yours, and you undid his belt.

His pants fell around his feet and he kicked them off. His boxers were the last thing left, and you reached for them, slowly pulling them down. His hand held the back of your head as he kissed you, his tongue twirling around yours. You moved to pull away but he held on tighter.

His boxers hit the floor and you looked up at him, his hands resting on your frame. Gently taking your hand, he placed it on his dick. You gasped, feeling it grow even more underneath your touch. He pulled away, his lips planting kisses down your neck as his hand guided yours up and down his length. You felt him shiver as you grazed the tip with your nails, his breath hitching. He removed his hand, and your eyes shot open when you felt his tip brush against your entrance.

He teased you, running it up and down your slit. You threw your head back in pleasure, your back arching against him. The more he prolonged what you needed the most, the more your neediness grew. You tried to guide him inside you but he resisted, placing a finger on your lips instead. He dragged it over them before he made you suck on it, his eyes never leaving your face as he blew a stream of air out. Your eyes widened when you felt his head brush against you again, making you gasp audibly, his name falling from your lips.

"Please," you remembered what he told you the first time he had you in his arms like this. "Please, please, please, please, please, please, please..." you chanted over and over again.

"Fuck," he hissed under his breath. Hearing you beg for him made his head spin again. It was like you'd put him under a spell every time you'd utter that word and he'd not be able to deny you anything. Not that he ever wanted.

He slowly pushed inside of you, stopping at every inch to wait for you to adjust. "Are you okay?" he whispered.

You nodded, your breath hitching as he began to move again. He kissed you, your nails digging into his back as he stretched you more. He was so gentle, it was unlike anything you'd ever experienced before. This was not the normal rough, lustful sex. This was the man who loved the sight of you, the sounds of your pleasure. This was the man who wanted to make love to you, to show you what true pleasure was.

Your fingers sank into his back again, and he responded by thrusting into you harder, your moans getting louder. His lips traveled down your chest, his tongue flicking a nipple as he pushed into you again.

"Oh, god." you moaned, George's name falling from your mouth repeatedly. Your hands dug into the sheets as his thrusts grew harder, deeper.

"You feel so good... so damn good," he kissed your skin. "Making me feel like I don't ever want to take anybody else again."

"Don't stop, please, whatever it is that you're doing, please, just don't stop." you cried, twining your legs around him to press him deeper.

He moaned in pleasure when you did, his hands tightening their grip around you. His breathing grew heavier and faster, your bodies reacting to each other. He was so close, and he could feel you held right on the edge.

You cried out his name, your form shuddering under him. He had no intention of stopping, and he continued his movements as you kept shaking, your voice loud enough to wake up the whole apartment complex.

"You, George, only you…" you whispered into his ear as you were coming down.

You felt his whole build shake, his cock pulsing inside of you, but it wasn't enough. You wanted to hear him as he climaxed. You wanted to hear the sounds he made, the sweetest song in the world.

"George… George…" you panted, your breathing coming out in jagged breaths.

He cursed, as his body trembled with pleasure. His hands tightened around you, pulling you closer as he came. You buried your face in his neck, your fingers playing with his hair. He kissed you, holding you close to him. He wanted to stay inside you forever, to feel the sight of your face as he pleased you. You did that to him. You were the one making him see another reality where only he and you existed.

But he pulled away, your eyes searching for his as you slowly came back to reality. He kissed you again, his lips landing on yours.

"That was amazing… you were amazing…" he whispered, stroking your face gently.

"So were you." you said back, playing with the bangs that fell over his forehead.

He rested his head on your chest, finding a comfortable spot, your hands moving into his hair.

"Are you going to stay?" you whispered, uncertain.

"Only if you want me to."

"Always."

He hugged you tightly and rolled over so that you were now on top of him. His fingers softly ran along your back as your body let go and fully relaxed. The peaceful sound of your heartbeats and his breath seemed to take over the room. You drew near to him, feeling the up and down movements of his chest gently rock you to sleep, matters of your friendship left for tomorrow's morning news.

Next part

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[metamatar]

This is maybe a stupid question but do you think there's any ties between like orientalist trends in western countries that glorify dharmic religions and Hindutva? Like I've heard 'Hinduism is the oldest religion on Earth' and 'Hinduism/Buddhism are just so much more enlightened than savage Abrahamic religions' and 'how could there be war and oppression in India? Hindus don't believe in violence' from white liberals and it certainly seems *convenient* for Hindutva propaganda, at least.

Not stupid at all! Historically, orientalism precedes modern Hindutva. The notion of a unified Hinduism is actually constructed in the echo of oriental constructions of India, with Savarkar clearly modelling One Nation, One Race, One Language on westphalian nationhood. He will often draw on Max Mueller type of indology orientalists in his writing in constructing the Hindu claim to a golden past and thus an ethnostate.

In terms of modern connections you can see the use and abuse of orientalism in South Asian postcolonial studies depts in the west that end up peddling Hindutva ideology –

The geographer Sanjoy Chakravorty recently promised that, in his new book, he would “show how the social categories of religion and caste as they are perceived in modern-day India were developed during the British colonial rule…” The air of originality amused me. This notion has been in vogue in South Asian postcolonial studies for at least two decades. The highest expression of the genre, Nicholas Dirks’s Castes of Mind, was published in 2001. I take no issue with claiming originality for warmed-over ideas: following the neoliberal mantra of “publish or perish,” we academics do it all the time. But reading Chakravorty’s essay, I was shocked at the longevity of this particular idea, that caste as we know it is an artefact of British colonialism. For any historian of pre-colonial India, the idea is absurd. Therefore, its persistence has less to do with empirical merit, than with the peculiar dynamics of the global South Asian academy.

[...] No wonder that Hindutvadis in both countries are now quoting their works to claim that caste was never a Hindu phenomenon. As Dalits are lynched across India and upper-caste South Asian-Americans lobby to erase the history of their lower-caste compatriots from US textbooks, to traffic in this self-serving theory is unconscionable.

You can see writer sociologists beloved of western academia like Ashish Nandy argue for the "inherent difference of indian civilization makes secularism impossible" and posit that the caste ridden gandhian hinduism is the answer as though the congress wasn't full of hindutva-lites and that the capture of dalit radicalism by electoralism and grift is actually a form of redistribution. Sorry if thats not necessarily relevant I like to hate on him.

Then most importantly is the deployment of "Islamic Colonization" that Hindu India must be rescued from, which is merely cover for the rebrahmanization of the country. This periodization and perspective of Indian history is obviously riven up in British colonial orientalism, see Romila Thapar's work on precolonial India. Good piece on what the former means if you've not engaged with it, fundamentally it posits an eternal Hindu innocence.

#sorry for not posting new articles tbh but these have received airtime before on this blog bc theyre good! #asks #hindutva

[urprettylittlething]

In The Shadows

Purge Alternate Universe

Yandere - Gojo Satoru x Reader x Geto Suguru

A/N - Okayyyy I've been working on this for like a week and it's the longest I've ever written for one thing, I had a shoulder injury which is mostly healed up now during the week which hindered my progress a little because I originally really wanted this to get out nearer Halloween time, but oh well TT at least its here now right? Lmao, but I hope you guys enjoy it, I tried my best and lowkey kind of hate it, I wished I could've done more or something, but if you have any ideas around this for a possible part 2 let me knoww, although no promises ;) Consider this a massive thank you story, I now have over 100 followers and the likes and reblogs and comments, you guys, I'm crying, I love you all so much <333333 I love interacting with you guys and your comments on my stories or in my inbox <3333 you all make my day ilysm <3 :( AND IM SORRY I COULDNT HELP IT, they're kind of really mean so its more harsh yandere than the soft you all wanted :( I couldn't help myself its a purge AU TT, but I promise ill make something softer in the future <33 sorry this is so long omfg, but let me know your thoughts pretty please &lt;3 and if you actually read all of this ily

summary - Another purge night is here and you think your safe and sound, but let your guard down and you'll find yourself bound.

warnings - purge, mentions of 'off screen' murder, actual 'off screen' murder, kind of gore but reader doesn't see it, blood, rope, reader gets tied up, gags?, tape over readers mouth, they're actually kind of really mean lol, especially Geto, descriptions of panic, anxiety, overthinking, stalker situation kind of, swearing, crying, brief hair pulling, if there's any more let me know ml <3

genre - Oneshot

wc - 7.2k

~spelling and grammar fixed already~

Edit - the top photo 6/11/23

The tip tapping of fingers on keys echoed around the silent room. The occasional footfalls of people around her walking up and down. Picking up books to further aid their studying would slip past the music playing in her ears when they were loud enough.

Every time she would hear someone being a little too loud for the library they were in she would glance up and shoot a half-hearted glare their way.

They’d never see her but it was the thought that counted. A barely audible sigh escapes her as she brings a hand up to massage her cold fingertips into the throbbing skin at her temple. 

Nervous nibbling was occupying her teeth and lips, chewing away the flesh and creating tender spots her tongue would soon soothe. 

She’d been staring at the same empty document for two hours now. No more than two sentences she was able to come up with before she’d erase them in a fit of frustration.

Abandoned textbooks lay closed behind her laptop, she’d deemed them no use around thirty minutes in, but she couldn't bring herself to get up and search for better ones. 

She was antsy, not able to focus on her assignment due in a week's time. Her brain was all fogged up, too many thoughts going through her mind and yet she's not able to focus on a single one.

The purge was tonight. March 21st. And it was currently 1pm. 

Why did she even bother to come to the library in the first place? Was she hoping to distract herself even just a little bit before she had to hunker herself down in her dorm for twelve hours? 

Maybe. Yes.

Was it working? Absolutely not.

She was too skittish. Overthinking everything that had the potential of happening later and things that have previously happened. 

‘Someone's not going to come and try to kill me just because I forgot to return their pen that one time, right?’ 

The amusing, albeit a little dark, thought did make the corner of her lips twitch just the smallest amount. 

Taking off her headphones after stopping her music, she closes down her laptop and starts to move it into her bag. 

She spares a quick glance around the few tables next to hers as she stands with the library's books in her arms. Her eyes locked with a man sitting roughly two tables down. Slumped back in his seat.

Gojo Satoru. Bright white and fluffy hair paired with a set of dazzling blue eyes. The ones currently peeking over the tops of his round shades that had slid down his nose as he tucked his head down slightly. 

Sitting in front of him and abstracting her view of Gojo only slightly is who she assumed was Geto Suguru. Two peas in a pod and never seen without the other. The long black and silky strands of hair tied up in a half up bun was a giveaway to who he was as well.

Both of them were originally from Tokyo, Japan. Coming over to America over five years ago. Or at least that's what she’s heard from around the place, not knowing them personally. They were the most popular boys in school when she had joined a little over a year ago and they still held the title strong.

She doesn’t think she's ever really interacted with them. At Least not on any kind of personal level. Sure, maybe from a few friends of friends or passing each other in the hallway and being polite to her upperclassmen, but nothing all that memorable. 

Which is why this prolonged eye contact is sending a very noticeable shiver down her spine. The smallest twitch of a smirk on his face and she was breaking eye contact, gulping down the pooled saliva in her mouth as she turned around and hastily made her way in between the towering bookshelves.

Leaving the library after stacking the books she’d previously taken back on the shelves, she hastily makes her way down the long corridors. Keeping her head down, her hands clutched tight on the strap of her bag. She passes very few people in the hallway.

Even after pushing through the doors and trekking her way to the dorms at the end of the path, there were very few people loitering around outside. Some of the people she passed looked like they could be stoned, not that she could really blame them. Some looked a little too relaxed and happy and some were just trying to get to their destination as quickly as possible. Like her.

As the doors came into view, and then the stairs, she slowly began to relax, her fast pace lessening up. Successfully getting to the safest place she could for when the purge would start. 

It was also a massive relief that her two good friends would be staying with her during the twelve hours of horror. Last time she was by herself there had been multiple scares throughout the night. Nothing too big but something she didn’t think she could handle alone again. 

Reaching her door on the third floor she fiddles with her keys for a few seconds before her door clicks open and she pushes her way inside. Closing the door and locking it again for good measure. 

It was 1:43 pm.

A few minutes after she had arrived back at her dorm did she realize she still needed to pick up some food items. Being a broke student meant she had essentially nothing in her cupboards or her fridge. And if she was ‘hosting for the purge’ this year, it meant she had to stock up at least a little bit. 

‘Imagine trying to hide from a killer and your stomach growls, I think I would just die on the spot.’ She thinks, the smallest smile gracing her face. Humour is usually her way to cope in situations like these. It’s either that or panicking and she’d rather try to save that for the main event.

With a heavy sigh and hesitation weighing her limbs down, she slowly puts her shoes and jacket back on. She can make this quick. In and out. Easy peasy. 

With a quick jump while shaking her limbs out to get rid of her last minute hesitation, she quickly opens her door and steps out before shutting it behind her. No going back now. Locking the door behind her, she starts making her way back down the stairs and out the doors, walking in the direction of the food store. 

Her nerves were still playing up though, eyes darting this way and that as if trying to find a reason for her to panic. ‘It’s okay, the purge hasn’t started yet, all those things are still illegal.’ Is what she keeps telling herself while taking a deep breath. But the fact they won’t be in a few hours was still cause for some panic. 

Arriving at the store, she wizzes around, collecting any good looking snack and throwing it in her basket before hastily paying and leaving. The heavy plastic carrier bag hanging from her fingers gave her reason to think she went a bit overboard. 

Her quickened steps and accelerated breathing were all she could hear for a while. Her walk back to her dorm was supposed to be a quiet one, less and less people were loitering around meaning less and less noises to distract her. 

Especially from the new set of footsteps that have appeared behind her.

As soon as her mind clocked the extra set of footsteps there, it went into overdrive. ‘Who is that? Are they following me? No, you're being delusional, they're just trying to get back home. But are they? They just appeared out of nowhere. Are they going to try and kidnap me? Rape me? Stuff me in a van? Drag me down a dark alleyway and murder me?’

Her mind was racing, steps quickening and breathing silenced under the new threat. ‘Oh god, what if they’re stalking me? Waiting until the purge starts to come and slaughter me? They’re going to kill me. They’re going to kill me. What should I do? What should I do? What should I do?’

And then they were gone. 

It barely registered in her mind that the fast paced footsteps from behind her had vanished. A sharp breath escaped her before her head whipped around on a desperate whim. No one. Not a soul on the path behind her. 

Her shoulders sank with relief and a watery laugh broke free from her trembling lips. ‘I’m losing my mind.’ She thought. Even though that feeling in her gut had faded, it never fully disappeared. Her racing heart never slowed and neither did her footsteps. 

Y/n hurried back to her dorm, almost running through the doors and up the stairs to fumble with her keys and quickly burst in. Double checking she locked the door behind her, and then checking every other lock on her third story apartment. Only when she had made sure they were all secure could she finally relax. 

Her body shivering and hands shaking from the after effects of adrenaline. Her breathing is still a little shaky as she pulls a bunch of pillows and blankets into her tiny living room. Pushing her chair and sofa away to make more space as she lays everything out as neat as she could, making the floor a comfy space for her and her two friends to crash for the purge. 

She empties the snacks from out of the plastic bag and piles them in a nice little corner near the TV. A small stack of movies there for when they’re all waiting for the purge to start. Some cards in a pack were also placed there. 

The three of them are wanting to be as quiet as possible while the purge is going on. Everything locked, curtains drawn, lights off, TV with no volume and only subtitles, quiet games to play in case they got bored, etc. 

They weren’t taking any chances. It was doubtful anything would happen, since nothing really ever did in the dorms. No student here would go as far as murdering somebody, everyone mostly stayed inside, not wanting to risk anything. She only knew of a few people that have snuck out before to rob a few stores, or do some petty revenge like smashing someone's car without getting into trouble.

But overall, it was best to remain quiet. They didn’t want to get murdered because the TV was turned up too loudly and attracted some wrong attention. 

It was 5:15 pm.

This is the time her friends arrived. Knocking some made up code on the slab of wood before messaging just for good measure that it was really them outside. 

After unlocking the door and letting her two good friends inside her dorm she swiftly closes and locks it again. Relieved greetings transpire as well as nervous whispers about the purge and some small gossip of who they think would actually go out this year and who are likely to stay inside. 

The three of them start to make their way around her dorm, closing all the curtains and double checking the locks on all the windows and doors. Especially the balcony and front door. 

After they’ve secured the apartment, they turn off all the necessary lights, flicking on a few electrical lanterns and setting them up around the living room, but away from the windows. They’ve left one lantern in the bathroom and one in her bedroom, both turned off, just in case of emergencies.  

The three of them settle in a spread out pile on the blankets she put down in the living room. Some snacks are passed around already and a movie is slotted into the TV, playing as background noise mostly while they talk.

Erica, a sassy but kind of dumb girl, with choppy shoulder length hair that had been bleached and dyed a light green. She's donned in a crop top and sweatpants, comfy.

Don, a friendly giant, very kind in nature but also a little muscly. He has short black hair and a sculpted jawline. He also came in sweatpants and a baggy white T-shirt, also comfy.

Her two very good, and only, friends here. They’re in a few of her classes and all regularly hang out together. 

“So,” Erica begins after her mouthful of powdered donut. “Who do you think is going to actually purge tonight? Like, actually actually. My moneys on them two hotties in my class.” She finishes, wiggling her eyebrows..

Don hums around his half empty soda can. “Yeah, honestly I wouldn't be surprised if they did.”

Y/n pipes up, “Wait who?” sitting up against the sofa behind her, getting comfy like she's about to hear the gossip of a lifetime.

“Oh, Em, G! You haven’t heard of it? You’ve seriously been, like, living under a rock or something.” Erica says jokingly. Picking apart pieces of her donut and eating them. 

Don perks up too. “Really? You haven't?” Y/n shakes her head in denial as Don shrugs. “I get it, it’s mostly stayed in our class, hasn’t spread much further than that.” He says before crawling forward and rummaging around for more snacks.

“So get a load of this right!” Erica sits up too after finishing her donut. Waving her hands excitedly as she tells her latest gossip. “You know them two really hot upperclassmen right?” She draws out her ‘really’ and waits patiently at the end of her sentence for the other girl's confirmation. 

When she nods in slight confusion, Erica continues, “There were some major rumours in class that the two of them were late this one day because they were beating someone up. And I don't mean like a few slaps or hair pulling, I mean punches. You know?”

Y/n nods again, this time with furrowed brows and Erica continues, “At first, I didn’t believe it, obviously. But then, the two of them came into class and I swear there were blood stains on their clothes. Blood stains! Not to mention all the plasters and bandages all over their hands! I just had to believe it then! Wouldn’t you?”

After the end of her long rant she slumps back against the front of the sofa and mumbles incoherently to herself shaking her head while pouting.

Don, who had been listening silently, pipes up, “It was true, I was actually there for once.”

Y/n’s eyebrows raise in disbelief at what she had just heard. Fighting, here? She couldn’t help but to doubt it, if only just a little. Stuff like that has never happened here. Or at least while she had been here. It was just unheard of.

And for an attack so vicious to result in blood being drawn, then there must have been somewhat of a good reason for it. That was the conclusion she came to.

“I mean, there had to have been a good reason for it.” Y/n says, “They’re pretty nice people aren't they? It is Gojo and Geto were talking about here, right? They’re really popular here too.” Her eyes darted between her two friends, looking for more answers on this unexpected juicy gossip.

Erica sighs wistfully, “No, it got shut down pretty quick, which I guess is why so little people have heard about it. God, would I pay to see them fight though. Their muscles must have looked amazing.” 

They stop talking about it after that, Don getting distracted by the snacks and whining about how she didn’t get his favourite. Erica smacking him with a few pillows and complaining how he’s getting in the way of her movie she was barely even watching. 

Their playful banter did little to distract from her inner turmoil. A small shiver went down her spine again. The memory from earlier in the library resurfacing in her mind. Gojo staring her down, the creepy walk back from the shops and now learning the two had at the very least helped in injuring someone.

It could just be because it was purge day, but everything was beginning to creep her out and she was overthinking again. ‘What if he wants to attack me next? What if all of those things were connected and someone really was following me home? What if he wants to kill me? What if both of them want to kill me? Have I ever done anything to offend them? I haven’t, have I?’ She knew these were far fetched and ridiculous, but she couldn’t help but think of them anyway.

Her spiralling thoughts were halted when a stray pillow smacked her in the face. “Oops, haha, sorry.” Erica sheepishly apologized, bringing her hand up to smooth down Y/n’s ruffled hair. Don was laughing in the background.  

Y/n was stunned for a few seconds before replying, “Oh, don’t worry. How about we put something else on? This movie is kind of boring.” crawling across the piles of pillows and blankets to reach the stack of movies.

This caught the other two’s attention, eagerly rushing to the stack as well to try and get first pick. Arguing for a few more minutes before settling on a movie they all loved. Snuggling back into their original positions.

This was how the next few hours went before the announcement appeared.

It was 6:59 pm.

At exactly 7 on the dot, the TV went black before turning blue, the government announcing the commencement of the purge. Big bold letters and ‘Emergency Broadcast System’ and ‘This is not a test’ were displayed on the screen.

They were all quiet as it played out. The mood quickly turned sombre.

“Weapons of class 4 and lower have been authorized for use during the Purge. All other weapons are restricted.”

Don gulped.

“Government officials of ranking 10 have been granted immunity from the Purge and shall not be harmed.”

Erica huffed.

“Commencing at the siren, any and all crime, including murder, will be legal for 12 continuous hours.” 

Y/n shivered.

“Police, fire, and emergency medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning at 7 am when The Purge concludes.”

She released a shaky breath. The announcement ends with “...A nation reborn.” before stopping. The screen turned black again.

No one moves or says anything. Each of them were frozen in an array of emotions. Fear being the most prominent. 

The silence stretched on for minutes. Eerie in its wake, not even being able to hear other people in their dorm rooms like she normally would.

Eventually, after releasing another shaky breath and rearranging herself with trembling limbs, they all snap back into the present. 

Don coughs and Erica shuffles awkwardly. 

“Cards, anyone?” Y/n meekly speaks up. The other two nod as they sit in a small circle. 

It was 7:36 pm.

This was when the first explosion of some kind was heard by them. Each of them froze in the middle of playing their mostly silent game of cards. The noise was distant, but the impact remained.

A scream from a few doors down echoed in the silent space.

They waited with baited breath for any follow up, but when nothing happened, they slowly relaxed. Each of them assumed it was the explosion that must have scared someone. Sometimes it’s better to think of the positive, rather than what that scream could have been for.

A few minutes later a siren bellows in the distance, a few car alarms wail.

Nothing too bad, but knowing that it could mean someone was being murdered out there didn’t give them any ease.

It was 8:02 pm. 

This is when the banging starts. Y/n thinks it could be a few doors down again. Erica thinks it’s below them and Don thinks it’s above them. 

Wherever it was, it was concerning. 

Erica releases a small nervous chuckle. “Maybe someone is just having a good time?” A fake smile plastered on her face to try and mask her worry. Even she didn’t believe her little theory. Not during a time like this, during The Purge.

It was a few minutes later, after they had quietly resumed their game, that footsteps were heard.

Clacking down the hallway. 

1, 2.

1, 2. 

1, 2. 

1, 2. 

They were walking at a leisurely pace. Taking their time. Strolling down the hallway and getting closer and closer.

All three of them looked towards the door, as if someone were to burst in at any moment.

The footsteps slow before coming to a stop. Right outside her door.

The three of them hold their breath, bodies flinching when a light knock rings out into the open space.

Complete silence.

Another knock.

None of them had even noticed the earlier noises had stopped, too focused on the potential threat now right outside the door. Seemingly wanting someone to open up.

Three pairs of eyes dart between each other. Silent questions trying to push their way out without being heard. A few panicked half shrugs and furrowed brows with downturned lips later, another knock rings out.

This time it was a little louder.

Barely audible whisperings of ‘you go’, ‘no you’, ‘fuck no’, ‘who even is it?’ cut through the silence. No one wanted to ask the question. To even speak a hint of it lest it result in it coming true.

Eventually after a solid minute of panicked, almost silent, squabbling later. A frustrated and frightened Erica pushed herself up. Taking a very obvious deep breath. Eyes closed and silently mumbling to herself before taking a few steps over to the front door.

She tried to be as quiet as she could but each step sounded like it weighed a ton. Every creek and every wobble made to sound the loudest. 

Very quietly bracing her hands upon the door, she leant up on her tiptoes. Peeking into the peephole positioned in the centre of the door.

The two left in the pile of blankets still. Not wanting to even breathe in fear of disturbing whatever was happening in front of them.

A sudden screech of pure panic and fear tore from Erica’s throat. Flailing before landing with a harsh thud on the floor beneath her. Scrambling backwards on her hands and feet, keeping her eyes on the door the entire time.

The two startle and immediately jump up, laboured breathing hindering their lungs from the sudden scare.

“What the fuck? Erica what happened? What was that?” Don frantically whispered. His eyes were also locked on the door. 

Y/n also whispered to her, “Who was that? Erica?” her eyes locked onto her friend, not able to bring herself to look at the door yet.

“It was.. Oh god.. The peep..” Erica wheezed out. The fright took too much out of her with her frantic gasps for air.

A sudden bang echoed into the room. A few more followed before they all realized it was coming from the front door. 

Erica screeched and threw herself back into a standing position, rushing for the kitchen and grabbing any sharp knife her eyes first laid on.

Don stood frozen in fear. Not able to move or barely breathe from the looks of it.

Y/n wasn’t any better herself. Downright terrified. This was her dorm. Her dorm. Which means whoever was outside, was looking for her.

The banging persisted, the person on the other side seemingly determined to get in. This proved correct when the handle started turning whichever way it could. 

She didn’t even realize, terror clouding her senses because when she looked back to her two friends, Don had collapsed into himself, wheezing with little air entering his lungs amidst his panic. Erica was cornered in the kitchen, sobbing, tears flooding her cheeks and ruining her mascara she had in place.

The persistent banging stopped for a second. The faint sound of another pair of footsteps approached from the hallway outside. Muffled talking pursued but it was hard to make anything out, between her pounding heart, Erica’s sobs and the slab of wood in the way, didn’t make for easy hearing.

For Y/n, it seemed there was one second of complete silence. No sobbing, no voices, no distant alarms or explosions, no racing heart, no wheezing lungs. Before chaos sprung onto them.

Suddenly the people outside, because there was another person now, resumed banging on the door. But it didn’t seem like they were ‘just knocking’ anymore. No.

They were trying to break the door down. 

She could see it from the way the door groaned and creaked under the relentless kicking. She couldn't quite tell if they were using their feet, or an object, or whatever. 

All that mattered was that they were trying to get in. And they were going to succeed.

“Move! Hide! We need to hide!” She whisper-yelled. Rushing to Don and tugging on his arm to try and get him to move. He stared at her for a few seconds before his brain caught up, registering what was happening around him. The real danger he was in right now.

“Hide.. Oh god..” He panted, sprinting for the bathroom, the first place his eyes had landed on.

With Don now searching for a place to hide, she ran her way to Erica. Still trying to be as quiet as she could, in the little hopes that they would think she wasn’t here.

“Erica, we need to hide! They’re getting in!” She frantically whispered to her hyperventilating friend. Trying to shake her shoulders, even resorting to lightly slapping her face to try and get her attention. She was desperate.

“Please!” The sound of splintering caught both of their attention. Heads whipping towards the door starting to cave. She wasn’t all that surprised, that slab of wood was a shitty excuse for a door anyway.

Erica suddenly sprung up and dove for the piles of blankets in the living room. Trying to bury herself amongst them, taking the knife with her.

And now that all her friends had been taken care of, she ran for her bedroom. Trying her best not to stumble and fall in the dark hallway. 

As soon as her door came into sight, she gently opened it, gunning for her wardrobe tucked into the corner of the room. Not even looking towards the turned off lantern, she didn’t need them knowing her hiding spot from something so obvious. 

It was already messy anyway, so in her frazzled brain she didn’t bother caring where she tossed piles of clothes and shoes in her room.. They’d hopefully think it was like that in the first place.

After quickly clearing a space big enough for her to curl into, she did just that. Situating herself just right, back pressed against the side of the wardrobe, knees tucked to her chest and pressed against the boxes in front of her. She was sitting on old shirts she hadn’t seen for months.

Hearing the door breaking even further, she grabbed any clothes within her reach and threw them over herself. Shutting the door when she was mostly covered, she could have sworn she could hear laughter coming from the hallway.

A loud crash and splintering tore through the air. She knew it was her front door. And now they were inside. 

Her hands slowly went up to cup around her mouth, trying to muffle her breathing as much as she could. Her body froze. Even when she already began to feel muscle cramps settling in, she dared not move. She forced herself to breathe slowly. Every inhale a struggle along with a reminder that she was still alive at this very moment. Even if she was convinced she wouldn’t be for much longer. 

The thought brought tears to her eyes. The original shock wears from her body and settles into something akin to despair. 

Her throat started clamping up, muscles seizing and throbbing with the need to cry. 

It was the thudding of footsteps that shook her out of it. Snapping her half way back into a nightmarish reality. 

She gulped. Closing her eyes and straining her ears for any information they were willing to receive.

Just as she thought. Two pairs of footsteps. 

With every thud of a shoe or a spike in their muffled talking, her body would tremble. 

It remained like this for a few more minutes. The footsteps or talking occasionally pausing. 

It was during one of these silences, where a different sound was heard. She couldn’t identify the exact sounds, just ones of commotion. They were still all muffled. And then she heard muffled yelling. 

It sounded so dulled, between the walls and layers of wood and clothes, she could barely make out anything, her ears straining for any hint as to what was happening. Being left in the dark like this, literally and figuratively, was terrifying her. 

And then this horrible, awful noise carried its way between the cracks in the wardrobe. Crunching. Cracking. Stomps. 

That muffled yelling from before kept getting cut off. Eventually dwindling down into a barely audible groan. Those thuds never seemed to stop either. Never ending, crunching, cracking, and now wet thuds. 

Her brain was trying its hardest to process, to catch up with the information that it has been provided with. 

More footsteps, only one pair, accompanied with muffled laughter. And a more distinct sound traveling through the air. 

A scream.

Even more laughter, hurried footsteps and pleas of ‘no’, ‘please’, ‘don’ts’. 

It was now, with the wet stomps still in the background, her screeching friend, that eager laugh, that her brain had finally caught up.

She was going to be sick.

They’re hurting them. Killing them.

Her friends.

Her body moved out of its own violation. Shaky hands and feet kicking and pushing their way out of the pile of clothes. Wardrobe door swinging open with a creak.

She collapsed out of it. Slumped on the floor, dry heaving. Her lungs not seeming to take enough air in but yet holding in too much. She couldn’t function. Fear overwhelmed every part of her. As well as grief. 

Her ears were ringing and she was left gasping, drool dripping onto the hard floor beneath her as a result of her attempted vomiting. Eyes wide open, blurry when she tapped back into her mind. 

Tears, clouding her vision and dripping audibly on the floorboards below her. 

In the distance she could hear muffled talking. Two men, she could make out more clearly. Not only that, but squelching, wet, gooey noises seemed to mingle in the air. Gurgling was the next before silence.

A minute passed, maybe two before the footsteps started up again. Those goddamn footsteps. 

1.. 2.

1.. 2.

1.. 2.

But they were slower than before. Steady. Taking their time. 

And getting closer.

Her instincts kick in, blinking profusely to try and clear her eyes from the tears, looking up and darting around before landing on the space under her bed.

She wouldn’t have enough time to fix her spot back in the wardrobe. She couldn’t run past them, not even in her best state which she certainly wasn’t in right now. She had considered her bedroom window as an option, but it was locked, which would take time to open. Not even mentioning the fact she was on the third floor, so jumping out would break at least something important. They would be quick to notice as well, and if they came for her, it was likely they would decide to chase her down.

Under her bed seemed to be her best option at the moment, and she was running out of time. Scrambling as quietly as she could, she slid herself directly under her bed, trying to center herself in the middle of it, tucking herself into a tight ball.

The footsteps stopped right outside her bedroom door, she had enough sense to shut it on her way in, thank god. But that clearly wouldn’t be enough to stop them. 

Almost as if the person was teasing her, they slowly clicked the door open. The distinct creak she had grown accustomed to over the months making itself known. 

Her muscles are tense, tightening in the presence of her predators. 

In the dark space from under her bed and in her room, it was obvious when the light from inside the hallway started spilling in the more the door got pushed open. In the vague depths of her mind it registered that they must’ve either turned the hall lights on, had taken one of her lanterns,  or were carrying one of their own.

Her lungs were burning with the effort to keep her body running with the little air she was allowing them to have, all for the sake of trying to keep quiet.

It was all too silent once again, only for a second or two before the second pair of footsteps came towards her. A lot more hasty compared to the other ones. 

Her breath silently hitched, the new person pushed their way into the room, stepping past their company before a thunk was heard. The sound forced her body to startle, jolting her muscles and kick starting her trembling again. An uncontrollable reaction to the fear she was under, the unrelenting motions causing a deep ache in her ribs.

The sound of rustling was now heard. It seemed they were looking for something. ‘They’re going to kill me. They’re digging around for a weapon to stab me with, to bash my head in, to murder me like they did my friends. I’m dead. I’m dead, I’mdeadI’mdeadI’mdead-’

Her racing thoughts consuming her fear riddled mind failed in picking up the sound of the other pair of footsteps slowly creeping round to the end of her bed. 

The person paused, silently crouching down low before a pair of hands reached under.

The sudden tight grip on her ankles followed up by the sudden pull had her screeching. Pure terror flooding her veins. She had been yanked out from under her bed, lying sprawled on the floor and gazing up at the towering man stationed above her. 

Her lungs burned, seizing up before a sickening scream escaped her. Fuelled by genuine, unrestrained horror. 

They had found her.

One of her lanterns they had brought in illuminated his face in a haunting light. The darkened shadows stretching and contorting behind him to create the most grim image for her mind to paint. Not that it was far off.

A foot standing on either side of her hips, straddling her if it wasn’t for his standing position. Hands nestled comfortably back in his trouser pockets now they had done the job of retrieving her. A comfortable looking long-sleeved shirt adorned his figure. Dark splatters starting from the bottom of his shoes and creeping their way up his legs, tapering off into a few spots that painted one of his cheeks.

An easy smile softly ingrained on his face, followed by gentle looking eyes peering down at her if it wasn’t for the malicious spiral she found herself paralyzed in. Dark locks of hair extended down his back, past where she could see from her position, with the top layers sectioned off and tied back into a bun.

His mouth opened and he spoke. “Well, well. Look what I’ve caught for us Satoru.”

Satoru. The other man must be Satoru Gojo, and this was Suguru. Suguru Geto. The most popular guys she knew, the supposedly kindest. And then staring in the library, the walk back from the shops, the gossip her most likely dead friend had told her.

Her body suddenly felt like it was pumped full of adrenaline. Pushing herself up as fast as she could, using the bed as support all the while stumbling over her numb riddled legs. She took off, running towards the open door she so desperately wanted to pass through. 

A sudden arm snatched her from around her waist and she screeched. Pure instinct driving her at this point as she scratched and kicked and flailed in his, Satoru Gojo’s, hold.

The sound of something dropping before his other arm came round, collecting both her wrists in one hand of his. His grip tightened the more she fought. Her body pressed tight against his, her back to his front. His head situated itself on her shoulder, tucking over and pressing his cheek to hers even while she cried and panted and kicked.

She could feel his grin pressing against the side of her face. “Such a pretty little thing we have here. Can’t let her get away so easily now, can we? Not after all the trouble we’ve gone through.” The last part practically whispered into her ear as she turned her face as far away as possible from him. 

A little laugh boasted out from Geto. “Of course not.” He strolled over to them, bending down to pick up what Gojo had dropped in order to restrain her.

Rope.

Fucking rope.

The moment her eyes zoned in and processed what Geto was unravelling in his hands she tried to fight back even harder. Eyes flooding with tears that spilled down her cheeks. Short mumblings of ‘no’ being repeated over and over while becoming louder until she was yelling. 

“Please don’t do this! Let me go! Please, please.. Stop!” She shrieked while sobbing, convinced they were going to kill her or torture her or something horrible like that.

Gojo walked the two of them to the edge of her bed before forcefully pushing her down, manhandling her onto her front and bending her arms to rest pressing against her back.  

She sobbed into her ruffled sheets as she felt Geto fastening the rope tight around her wrists, the rough material digging into and pinching the sensitive skin. Raw and red marks already forming amidst her struggle. 

Her legs still hung off the bed, trying their best to kick and hopefully injure one or both of them, but she knew it was a losing battle. None of her landing blows made them falter in any way.

When her wrists were successfully restrained Geto kept them pressed to the small of her back while Gojo let go and reached down to grab her ankles. Pulling them up and bending her legs at the knees while they both worked in finishing the task of tying her up.

When they finally stepped back to admire the work they’d successfully done, Y/n deflated. Tears soaking into her bed in which she rested on top of. Her lungs still burned, having never stopped. The hogtied position she had been forced into leaving her nothing to work with in terms of escaping. Not that she could think clearly anyway. The distress she was under proved too much.

“Oh, Shh Sh Sh… There, there, sweet thing. Settle down for us now. We aren’t going to kill you.” Cooed, who she could only guess right now was Gojo.

Geto reached forward from his position of kneeling on the bed, gentle soothing pets stroking her hair. Her sobbing tapering off into hiccupped breathing even while flinching with every touch. “There you go, good girl. See that wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

He pulled away from her, stepping down off the bed and heading towards the previously discarded bag on the floor Y/n hadn’t noticed before..

Y/n slowly turned her head round, no longer pressed into her sheets. Her eyes were red and bloodshot, swollen from all the crying she’d been doing. Little hiccups and groans left her while her lungs tried to recover. She’d given up struggling right now, it had done nothing but cause her pain as the rope dug and squeezed the skin of her wrists and ankles. 

Gojo piped up from behind her, only now feeling the heat from his legs pressing into hers causing her to flinch. “You know, this would’ve gone a whole lot easier if you had just let us in sweetheart.” She could practically hear the smug smile in his voice. “Look at where you are now, tied up all pretty for us. Ripe for the taking.” He pressed closer to her at that, voice practically dripping with need. 

She whined in fear and started squirming at his words. Panic flooding her senses again for just a second before a sharp tug to her hair had her yelping, halting her movements.

“I thought I told you to quit that.” Geto was back to kneeling on the bed in front of her, his hand gripping tight onto her hair, eyes narrowed. 

Her bottom lip trembled, breaths picking up with every second he glared down at her. 

“Don’t be so mean, Sugu.” Gojo said, a teasing lilt in his voice. 

Geto glanced back at him before humming and letting go of his harsh grip, her scalp burning in turn. “I suppose you’re right. She’ll have plenty of time to learn when we take her back home.”

Gojo hummed and she felt him leaning away from her, hearing him crouch down and fiddle with something from the bag as well. 

“Back home?..” She stuttered, voice hoarse and throat dry.

Geto looked back down at her, amusement painting his face. “Yes. Home.”

“Where..” She started, face formed in a twist of concern and confusion. “Please.. I.. Just let me go. I won’t- I won’t tell anyone, I’ll- I’ll leave you alone, I’ll do anything, please..” She gasped out, tears gathered freshly in her eyes again, voice cracking every few seconds. 

An amused eyebrow raised with the hint of a smirk at the corner of his mouth was all she got as a response. 

Gojo had come back, reaching round and fastening a strip of duct tape around her mouth in a sudden flurry of movement. Giving her no time to process what he had done until after he had done it. 

She cried out, the sound muffled thanks to the tape, worried eyes darting around in panic as she tried squirming again for the third time. 

Gojo pressed up behind her once again. “You’re not going anywhere, sweet pea! You’re ours now. We’ve had you picked out for a long time now.” The joy in his voice didn’t fail to put her on edge, his words doing their part in helping the tears gathered in her waterline to finally spill down her cheeks. Wetting the tape situated over her lips.

“He’s right.” Geto replied. Bringing one of his hands up to show what he had collected from the bag a few moments ago. The mobile phone in his hands glowed brightly in the dark room, the lamp from before having been moved, the light now dim.

“We’ll bring you back with us soon enough, but we still have a few more hours to kill before that. And why waste them.” Gojo said, the grin in his voice unsettling her, keeping her frozen in fear.

An easy smile pulled at Geto’s cheeks at that, head tilting to the side to gaze down at their pretty prey. 

“Well what are you waiting for then, Satoru?”

A pause. Smile pulling into a predatory grin.

“Have at it.”

#geto x reader #gojo x reader #geto suguru #gojo saturo #jujutsu kaisen x reader #yandere geto #yandere geto suguru #yandere gojo #yandere gojo satoru #yandere gojo x reader #yandere geto x reader

[sabakos]

You probably don't know another language if you live in the United States and both you and your parents were born here unless you go out of your way to learn it. This is a problem of geography more than it is a moral failing because if you are an American, then learning another language is not immediately useful to you. This is because your options in school are as follows:

Spanish: Second most common language in America. Most people who speak it also speak English and will look at you funny if you know Spanish and will not appreciate you being able to eavesdrop on their conversations. But, it's the only non-English language with an appreciable population of native speakers that you can encounter without getting on a plane. However in all likelihood you will probably be taught by a non-native speaker who could not pass an A1 exam and you will learn no Spanish just the same as everyone else.

French: The only French speakers in North America probably don't want to talk to you ever, and if you speak non-Quebecois French at them they really won't want to. You are probably going to major in literary studies and spend the rest of your life pretending to read books no one else actually reads. You have opinions on Freud and Lacan.

German: No one in North America speaks German as their primary language. It's really only useful if you like philosophy or World War II history or want to move to Germany. You probably really like beer and will study abroad and be really annoying about it afterward. But most Germans you are likely to meet outside of Germany speak English somewhat well so you aren't really doing anything for yourself? So most people will also think you're a Wehraboo or worse unless you are Jewish.

Russian: You already speak Russian or another Slavic language at home and will insist that you do not up until the first day of class, when you and all of your classmates will spend the entire time gossiping with the professor in Russian. The few American kids will hang out in the back and probably talk about Dostoevsky and drink vodka out of their water bottles. Everyone will get an A and no one will learn anything new.

Mandarin Chinese: You (or more likely your parents) think "we'll all be speaking Chinese in twenty years" and so you want to get a head start. This attitude self-selects against people who will ever need to know Mandarin. You probably idolize Ezra Pound and use phrases like "command economy" unironically. Every single person from China who has ever met you hates your guts.

Japanese: You are a weeb. All of your classmates are weebs. Your professor may or may not be a weeb, but wants to die regardless. You'll probably give up halfway through the first semester along with the most annoying 80% of the class and switch to Spanish once you realize how hard it is to learn Japanese.

Korean or Arabic: Congratulations on your new job at [redacted]!

Pashto or Urdu or Farsi: Congratulations on your new job at [redacted], but also I really doubt you are supposed to be telling anyone that you are learning this language. Good luck on your future job search.

Navajo: Most Navajo people don't speak any Navajo and unless you live in New Mexico you will literally never meet someone who is Navajo. They don't want to talk to you anyway. I don't think many people ever even try to learn this, this is solely on this list because I've seen insane but clueless Europeans try to guilt Americans for not learning it for some incomprehensible reason.

Latin: Latin is a dead language. I'm sure you are tired of hearing about that by now, which is why I reminded you about it. Even Catholics will make fun of you now for learning this. Your parents probably want you to be a doctor, and will stop talking to you when you drop out of med school. Or maybe you're a classics student who will spend the rest of your life incorrecting historians about pissing contests no one cared about anyway. Go forge a historical demonology book or get off to a picture of Thomas Aquinas or Cicero or something, I don't know.

Ancient Greek: Oh, are you a theology student or something learning Biblical Koine? The Evangelical Christians don't care what the bible actu- ...No? You're learning Attic Greek? And you're not like, a linguistics or classics major or something, you chose to do this specifically. Hey, uh, are you doing anything later? Or right now, even?

#posting #language learning

[colubrina]

idk if you have a TikTok or if you keep up with the HP fandom over there; but apparently manacled by SenLinYu was posted on Amazon for purchase (not by the author). It’s since been removed but was up for more than a couple days. And there were individuals on TikTok that just didnt understand why others were getting so upset. Like let’s disregard the fact that someone other than the original author profiting off this work, but I actually saw people that were very firm in the belief that they could sell fanfic. Whether that be through book binds, cases like this, or commissions/Patreon. I’m an elder gen Z, and I remember coming into the fanfiction spaces pretty early on maybe like 07-08?? I think I was 9-10 reading HP fics on fanfiction.net and very vividly remember everyone being super specific about “this is not my sandbox, I’m just playing around” or “If you recognize anything, it doesn’t belong to me”. So I’m always surprised by people that really don’t see a problem with it. I’ve even seen people claim that it will either fall within the limits of fair use or that it would be a PR nightmare for someone to go after someone. I guess I was 1.) just wanting to rant about how shortsighted I think it was to someone that was around in fanfic space before 2015 and 2.) get thoughts from an author that I feel like has had several popular/successful fics in the fandom.

Yeah, I've got a TikTok. I never post anything, but I try to share anything people make that's nice about my old fics. I always have this half-assed feeling like I should make things but I don't. (https://www.tiktok.com/@colubrina_)

2. Congrats to Senlinyu on her book deal - very cool!

3. And yeah, I saw that people were doing that, and I wish I was surprised but I'm not. There's always been a not-insignificant part of the dramione fandom that sees the fics as 'belonging to the fandom.' They will post them on sites where the author doesn't want them. They will host PDFs online even when you directly ask them not to. They will rehost fics authors have taken down, orphaning them on AO3 so they can't be stopped. They don't see it as stealing because they see the fics as public property. It was probably just a matter of time before they started trying to host them on Amazon. It's frustrating for sure, but it does feel a bit like 'here we go again.' It certainly doesn't fall under fair use, and I think Manacled might be one of the very few fics that will have a legal department eager to keep it offline so the publisher can make their money from it, but other people will be less fortunate. Fic has become enough of a part of the ecosystem it's not at any kind of risk as an artform. But, yeah, it sucks. Be nice to your authors. Respect their wishes. Don't do this shit.

[copperbadge]

Every so often I get an Anon ask where I'm not entirely comfortable responding in public with no cut or warnings ahead of the text -- it's not that anything inappropriate is being said, it's just sometimes the subject matter's a little rough. This is one of those, so I decided to copy and paste it and put it behind a cut; warnings for discussion of abuse and fraught familial situations.

You've spoken about having ADHD before, and i was wondering if you have any links to websites with resources for adults with ADHD that are more than the very generic "stay organised!", "eat healthily!", "avoid distractions!" things? like, something that explains ADHD and WHY getting organised is good, maybe? or how ADHD may intersect with anxiety? my mother finally went to a doctor and got (as i expected) an ADHD diagnosis, but the doctor told her medication wouldn't give her much at this point, which is fine, but she's just kept going as usual for her, which is not.

she has ignored everything i've told her before (like, to think ahead and prioritise, to make plans, to make lists, that she has to be systematic about it, to stay calm because if she has a plan everything should be done on time) but she ignores me. she just starts doing whatever, whenever, and then getting annoyed/anxious that "nothing" is done, and then she starts yelling at me.

i just want her to realise she MUST at least attempt to be organised, and that it's not just for work stuff, it's for everything, including every day stuff like chores. (also, i'd like to stop being yelled at. like, some of my first memories are of getting yelled at. it's been years and years of regular bouts of screaming. now i know it's her and not me, and i'd. like it to stop)

i apologize for the huge ask/rant, but yeah, do you know of any resources that explain the importance of being organised? i think if i show her something 'official' maybe she'll start doing it. or do you have any personal tips for talking to her about it? or a book about someone's experience with ADHD? anything. anything at all.

So there is...much to unpack here, as the kids say, both in terms of what you are asking directly and what you are not asking but what I'm going to address anyway. I don't have any great resources for what you're looking for, because neurodiversity comes in a lot of shapes and sizes even within a single diagnosis, and as you likely know I'm a big proponent of doing-what-works, and that's something a person has to figure out for themselves. A lot of people seem to find ADDitude very relatable and they are informative, but that's probably the best general resource out there to go deeper than surface, and a good place for her to start reading if she wants to.

But the real problem, Anon, is that she's never going to listen to you.

That seems like a real bold statement, but it is also extremely likely to be true. Most people who get a diagnosis start to work on themselves and learn more about their unique neurology; it's clear she's not going to do that, and you can't make her. I'm sure some of it is that she's been told her entire life, by people with much more power over her than you, to do those things: be organized, make lists, have a plan. They are the hardest things for people with ADHD to do, and she can't simply whip herself through them, and so she learned long ago to ignore anyone saying anything about it. Medication could help with that a lot, actually, so your mother's doctor really fucked you both by telling her it wouldn't do anything for her; whether she's taken that as permission to ignore the problem or whether she just believed him, he did a really shitty thing in doing that.

Your mother is neurologically incapable of forcing herself to do many things that neurotypical people find easy. There are workarounds, yes; some of us do extremely well if we decide that EVERYTHING has to be planned, and behave accordingly. Some of us find stopgaps. But that has to be a decision she makes, to find workarounds for herself. It's not something you can offer her with helpful websites or books, because she is also likely very deep in shame about it, to judge from her other behaviors. That's not your fault, which means it's also not your job to fix it.

And here's the other problem: you are in an abusive home situation where your mother is taking out her frustration with her mental illness by hurting you.

And that really really sucks and I'm really, really sorry. But the screaming-at-you, which absolutely should not be happening, is a result of decades of frustration at the world that won't accommodate her, combined with an inability to regulate her emotions. Unless she is medicated or learns better regulation or at least picks a different target, it's not going to stop. That's not your fault either. Some of it isn't even her fault. (Some of it is; mental illness is not our choice but it is our responsibility, and she is not behaving as either an adult or a parent should in abusing you because she can't find somewhere else to put all her emotions.)

Presumably you are either too young to leave or can't afford to, but the best possible thing you can do for yourself is get out as soon as you can, sever yourself from her financially, and then decide what level of interaction you want with her going forward. Honestly, may be the best thing for her as well, to realize that if she doesn't make a change, she will lose access to her child.

I realize that is almost certainly not immediately possible, however. Do not leave if you are going to a less safe situation, either. Be smart and strategic -- make your plans and prepare as much as possible ahead of time.

"So in the meantime, Sam, what the fuck am I supposed to do?"

Bearing in mind that we are going to assume you cannot help your mother, as she either doesn't want help or is in denial or both, the best thing you can do if you can't get out is to shore yourself up: remind yourself as regularly as possible that none of this is your fault, and do your best to protect yourself both emotionally and physically. IE, if she's not organized enough to buy groceries or cook, do what you can to make sure you are regularly fed -- do not concern yourself with whether she eats. That's her responsibility, she's a grownup. If you are likely to be yelled at for this -- well, she was always going to yell at you about something; it might as well be as a result of you caring for yourself first. As much as you can, spend time away from her if possible.

Given her past behavior, especially if you are an only child or oldest sibling, you may already be de-facto head of household; this may be simply a process of assuming actively that she can't fulfill that role, and doing what you can to care for yourself and any siblings. If you have other family who understand the situation, I strongly suggest tapping them for help. As much as you can, reach out to adults in your life you trust, and get their help in caring for yourself and your family without needing to depend on her for support.

I don't wish to stigmatize mental illness or addiction but living with someone in denial about the impact of their mental health on those around them is exactly like living with an addict: the best strategy is to expect nothing from them, remind yourself often that you are not to blame for this situation, look out for yourself first and foremost, and get out once you can. I'm really sorry it has to be that way, because it shouldn't be. But I'm concerned with you, not with her, and if you want to build a better life for yourself, it's going to have to be one that doesn't depend on you being able to change someone else.

I'm afraid I don't have a lot of books for you about that, either. I wish you all the luck -- you shouldn't need it, but unfortunately sometimes we still do.

#sam has adhd #mental health #abuse #toxic family

[stargirl-writes]

through your eyes

pairing : librarian! reader x artist! anakin skywalker

word count : 2.7k

masterlist | ao3 link

summary

you'd find every book there is in search of a world you can get lost in. you thought you weren't really special enough to pursue an adventure for yourself. when one day, you notice a certain jedi spend a lot of time in your quiet library. strange— how he'd choose to sit in solitude when he can be pursuing a more colorful life outside, even stranger, is how he shows you a portrait he drew of you.

tags : fluff, romance, comfort, maybe a bit of angst(?), but it's a happy fic i promise!

warnings : none(!)

notes : hello angels! i REALLY needed to write a lover-boy-anakin for my sanity and this came to me because of this blog and watching 'the portrait of a lady on fire' because i just love how artists love. so if you're in for a tooth-aching soft fluffy ani fic, i gotchu!

likes, comments, and reblogs are highly appreciated!

There is nothing more magical than the worlds you escape in reading for hours.

You can become an adventurer, seeking a great legend, or a fighter, ready to give your life for a cause, or a witch, enchanting villages to heal, or something useful, like a staple gun, or in love.

It would always take you away from the realities of your world. A galactic war, you grieve at night for; because you're you. And you're only the librarian in the capital city of Coruscant.

Besides, there's the Jedi Order and the Republic to fight the war. All there's left for you is to wait, and cry silently, and try to live despite it all.

You close the book you were holding, it was the last installation of the novel you were following. Towards the end, the female lead finally achieved her life's purpose— a happy ending.

It left you feeling empty, jealous even. Because she got to live a life worth hurting for— a sweet fervor. At least her suffering is met by an ending she deserves.

With a sigh, you got up and placed the book neatly on the bookshelf. The library was quiet, like it usually is. No one seems to take interest in thousands of stories waiting to be unravelled.

Maybe, they're actually living a life worth telling a story for. And you're here, stuck, looking for anything to take you off your own reality.

You heard a chair creak from a distance. You perk your head up, trying to find the source of the sound.

A lone man sat, holding what looked like a book in his hand. He was wearing robes you could recognize were of the Jedi's. Strange, a Jedi reading, even stranger, he was holding something, a pencil or a pen, and he was writing down in his book.

As the librarian, you wanted to come up and ask him if there was anything you could help him with. Half-hoping to hear what type of books he was interested in. But his eyes were focused and intent, like he was really immersed, and you thought it best not to disturb him.

So you left him to his business. It was already late, and your energy is already depleted from finishing your book.

The following days were identical. Arranging books, cleaning shelves, helping a few readers find their books.

The Jedi you once saw that night became ever-more present. You wanted to ask what he was reading, must be something good if he's willing to sit down and go through it rather than pursue colorful adventures as a Jedi.

You were finishing the inventory one night when you curiously peeked over the Jedi. His eyes caught yours and you looked away, embarrassed to have been so shamefully staring.

But then, your curiosity overcomes your embarrassment, so you walk up the Jedi.

"I can't help but notice you come here often" You began, trying your best to conceal your excitement. You wanted to know what he was reading, you needed some place to take your mind off.

"Oh?" He looks up, closing his book.

The cover didn't have a title, and you frowned at the let down.

"Well, I've never seen a Jedi actively want to read before" You commented, earning a chuckle from him.

"May I ask what you're reading?" You blurt out.

You could feel his gaze land on you and you suddenly feel conscious of being subjected to his attention.

He shakes his head with a lighthearted smile, and tucks his book to his robes.

"No, I'm sorry, It's not a book" He answers.

Seeming to read the visible disappointment in your face, he brings the book on the table again.

"Then what is it?"

"I draw, sometimes" He answers, handing you his journal, you turn the page revealing his sketch of the architecture of the library, it was elaborate, sharp lines that capture the symmetry of the columns, darker shades where there is no light.

Your eyes land on another sketch, a mech-droid. He even has a deconstructed version beside it like he had been studying how to operate it.

You turn another page, and you recognize a woman, Madame Jocasta, the librarian for the Jedi Library.

"These are really well done." You commented. "Are you a mechanic?" You asked, finding another elaborate deconstruction of a lightsaber.

"Yeah, you can say" He answers with a smile. "But I'm a Jedi knight, I'm only drawing what interests me"

"Why come to the library then?" You asked, turning to the last few pages, and to your surprise, you saw a sketch of the night you finished a novel you were reading.

Your cheeks were painted scarlet— following the lines he used to capture your visible dismay. You look up, stuck between being flattered and feeling embarassed.

"I meant to give you that" He scratches the back of his head.

You shake your head, deciding it was an innocent act to observe and draw what he sees. "Well, you got my nose wrong" You tease.

He chuckles, as if he's relieved by your positive reaction.

You dared turn another page and find another portrait of you, you recognize that it had been the day when you were explaining the metaphor used in your favorite classical tale of a boy who's got too much in his ego, it ended up being his downfall.

The Jedi didn't fail to capture the Twilek's reaction to your rambling and you laughed at the picture.

"I think she just wasn't ready to hear the tale of a boy who got too close to the sun" You explained the reason for the Twilek's expression on the portrait.

"I don't understand why it'd be a tragedy, Icarus was smiling when he fell" The Jedi speaks, and your heart skips a beat. He knows the story, you fought the excitement to urge him to expand on his thought.

"You know the story?"

"Ah, my mother used to tell me a lot" He answers. "She told me that he knew exactly what it'd mean if he went too far"

"And you think he was happy when he fell?" You inquired, curious by his optimistic view.

"I think he finally achieved his life's purpose" His lips curl to a smile.

For a moment, you held your breath, perplexed by how he interpreted such a tragic end.

You caught him looking, and you stripped your gaze away, closing his journal and handing it back to him.

You hoped that you've not made him feel embarrassed to not want to come again. The way he gave a fresh view on your favorite tale made you want to hear what he has to say.

"Well, if you're interested in drawing, I'm always here" You invited.

His eyebrows flash. "In that case, I swear I'll never bore the way that Twilek did. You can tell me all the stories you can"

Your heart skips and you can't help but smile at the thought.

"My name's Anakin"

"[Name]"

Anakin became more apparent to your life.

With your permission, he finally was able to study you, his eyes would narrow in focus, trying to replicate what he sees and how he sees you using a pencil, and you, reading stories and tales out loud.

In the beginning, you felt squirmish. He was really intent on looking at you, seeing you. No one else has quite looked at you the way he does. and you felt like every insecurity of yours was brought up front.

It felt like undressing; you thought, if he sees too closely, and unmasks you, will there be anything underneath? You felt like you were too mundane for him to look at you the way he does.

"And towards the end, she'd settle for a quiet life. She'd have lain on the ground he'd walk on, and this was a life she could see herself in" You finished the tale.

Anakin's eyebrows furrowed, showing dislike for the ending. "That can't be her end" He states his opinion.

You put down the book, happy that he was thinking the same as you. "Why do you say?" You encouraged him to speak more.

He doesn't stop looking up and down from you to his sketch. "She was an traveller, she wanted to sail" He recalled the synopsis.

"She was in love, it made her have different priorities" You considered the point the author made.

His hand halts, and his eyes land on yours. "If he truly loved her, he would have allowed her to become a fully realized person. He'd not have asked her to extinguish her fire" He looks up, as if in thought. "If he loved her, being near her fire would have been enough"

You smiled, surprised to learn that Anakin had been such a romantic.

"Well, what do I know, I've never been in love" You shrugged.

You look up to find Anakin's expression soften. You wondered what he was thinking of in this very moment.

"It's done" He says after a while.

He shows the portrait, and immediately, you see how unkept your hair looked. Then, how he deliberately emphasizes the creases of your cheeks when you smile and how he erased a portion in your eyes to make them appear as though it twinkled with light.

"You don't like it?" He says after noting your reaction.

"No, no, it's lovely" You answered. Though, you felt like it was too pretty, too idealized. Perhaps, he was seeing you in a manner you can't, for better or for worse, you don't know.

He nods, you can see his reluctance to ask what you thought, then you mentally slapped yourself for forgetting he can sense, and he definitely got what you'd been feeling.

The following afternoons went like that. You freely speaking your mind and him carefully sketching, listening.

For the first time, you don't feel like there is a need to escape your world anymore. You wake up, filled with stories you wanted to tell Anakin. Your heart would skip every time you hear the bells of the library door ring. Or when you'd catch Anakin so deep in focus, as if he was committing you to memory, and over time, his sketches of you became more honest, he'd sketch your insecurities with charming strokes, and you don't feel as though you have to hide them around him. He looks at you and sees art. It felt like the most comforting thing.

"But that was the test, he needed to trust that she'll walk behind him, he has to decide that it would be enough" You challenged his view one time you finished reading a tale of two lovers, Orpheus and Eurydice.

He has finished drawing and put down his journal to engage with your opinions.

"Can you really blame him? The Gods were playing with his doubts" He defends.

"Right, he did walk to hell for her" You considered.

"But isn't that what makes it so tragic— they could have made it out, they were so close" You grieved, because despite knowing the ending, you still hope that somehow, they'd find a way to crawl out of hell. Enduring love like that earns an ending that is deserved.

"Orpheus was only a man. He chose to look at her, one more time. He knew if he did, he'd lose her. And he did. It's a choice not of a lover, but of a poet" He concludes, and you thaw.

You'd still find yourself mesmerized by his mind. The way he sees things, the gentleness that comes, not because of the absence of violence, he knows too much of it in the war, but because despite the abundance, he remains tender.

You don't know when you started falling in love with Anakin. You only know that he'd be the story that'll last for your lifetime.

Anakin hands you the portrait. And you smiled at the expression he chose to immortalize. One of when you're almost brought to tears narrating how Eurydice was always behind Orpheus despite him never hearing her.

"I wish I looked this pretty when I cry" You commented, tracing over the lines of his sketch of you.

You felt Anakin tuck a loose strand of hair to your ear. He was looking at you with the same focus, the same wonder, same fascination.

You've grown so used to his gaze, it felt like you were communicating something that can't be expressed into words.

"If you see yourself the way I do now, you'd never doubt my sketches" He softly speaks.

"You're beautiful"

His words latched to your heart.

Anakin is the most dream-like of all; sometimes he feels like a mere character of a novel incarnated into an etheric being.

Anakin held your face, and in the heat of the moment, you pressed your lips against his.

You thought, if anyone else can feel how he makes you feel, they'd never doubt that true love exists.

The understanding you craved for— he gave you most ardently.

Saying 'I love you' came easy. Sometimes, you feel as though saying it would not suffice for how enormously you felt for him.

Your afternoons became late nights, and early mornings. Anakin would ask you to stop smiling, so he could draw you in honesty, but how could you not? You loved the way he'd be so immersed, so lost by gazing at you.

It was a bliss you've only known with Anakin.

But you watched how slowly, he was becoming more and more tense. You're not fighting the war the way he was, being a General, wielding a weapon at the front lines.

He'd rip away pages in frustration, and though you try to soothe the tension and pressure, you're afraid that this story will end in a tragedy.

All your favorite romances leave you feeling hollow towards the sad ending. And with Anakin, you keep being haunted by the thought that any moment might be the last.

What an odd plot to be involved in; loving and being deathly terrified of losing it.

You wrapped yourself in his robes— wishing the feeling to stop plaguing you. Anakin had been asleep, and you stood by the balcony, deep in thought.

You tuck your hands in your pockets, feeling your fingers grow cold by the crisp midnight air.

A piece of paper crumples, and you unfold the portrait.

It was the night you first shared yourself with Anakin. Your mind is flooded by the memory; how he made sure you felt comfortable, how he took every moment slowly like the world outside didn't matter.

You didn't know he drew you, or that he kept it in his pockets. It was strange— to see the picture he loved most was one where you were sleeping. You tuck the paper back inside and go back to bed.

He's gone most of the days now. But you can tell he's making the effort to stay awake when he'd come to your quarters.

"—Love is not an everlasting performance in which you have to attempt to keep your lover's attention. Rather, it's the release of insecurity to trust them to choose to stay, no matter what they see" You narrated softly, thinking Anakin had fallen asleep.

You planted a kiss on his forehead.

"I don't think I've heard this story before" He speaks up after a while.

"No, you haven't" You managed a wan smile. "I wrote it"

Anakin was looking at you the way he used to before. Your heart ached, but you proceeded. "I love you with what in me is unfinished, with what in me remains changing. By you, I am forever undone."

Anakin holds you tight.

"Do you think it'll have a happy ending?" You spoke nakedly.

"Not all stories end in tragedy, my love" He reassures.

You bit your lip "We'll have to conquer the fates, it's been written so many times, a cruel ending" You can't entirely let your fears go.

"Fate gave you to me"

"If by some twist, we end in tragedy, then I am happy to have loved you" He says.

You let out an exhale. There was the simple truth of it; that all things must go, even Anakin. And like him, you felt as though you were blessed to even share a portion of your life with him. Loving is never a waste, even just for the brief time you're allowed in one lifetime. You decided it would be enough for you.

In his arms, it felt like you're unravelling a story that may have a happy ending after all.

#anakin skywalker #anakin (ciella's ver) #star wars #sw #anakin x reader #anakin x you #star wars anakin #anakin #anakin fanfiction #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker fic #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x you #anakin fluff #anakin skywalker fluff #sw anakin #anakin star wars #anakin imagine #anakin x y/n #Spotify

[heartsfourdazai]

hello! I've been reading your posts for quite a while now and just got the courage to actually ask something. I would like to request Dazai, Chuuya, Atsushi, and Akutagawa with an S/O who has a chronic pain disorder (think EDS or fibro) that hides it SUPER well. how would they react to learning of the pain they are in day to day and just, act like isn't there. or would they catch on super quick? maybe they walk in on their S/O in bed unable to move due to pain? I would prefer fem reader but I don't mind if you do something else. Also, I'm giving you the freedom to pick the setup you want to do. hope you have a good week and make sure to take care of yourself!

with a chronic pain disorder reader

dazai, chuuya, atsushi, & akutagawa<3

warnings: lowercase writing

a/n: apologies in advance for any mistakes! ty for the request<33 female reader!!

good luck trying to hide shit from this dude

he reads you like a book, so it's hard to keep secrets from him.

why would you?

in small words, he catches on real quick!

he hates how you try to hide it from him.

it makes him feel like you don't trust him to take care of you, and that you don't think it's a big deal.

literlly tries anything he can to make you feel more comfortable with your condition around him.

cuddling with you.

whispering sweet nothings into your ear when you started to bite your lip to stop your sobs.

just stays with you when you need him.

he doesn't know how to exactly feel when your pain? he knows what to do, yes, however he can't help but talk to himself while he's comforting you.

if you have trouble sleeping due to this pain, he'll be awake with you attempting to sooth you and distract you from the pain.

sometimes you never get sleep, affecting his own slumber, not sleeping for up to two days.

you feel terrible seeing him as tired as you are, to the point you feel like just crying but he's here to remind you it was his choice, and will stay awake for an eternity if it means to comfort you.

just like dazai, good luck tryin to hide anything from him.

he knows when your happy.

he knows when your sad.

he's like santa, dude knows you!

you couldn't get out of bed. he had to come back all the way home from work to get you out and actually help you stand.

entering your room, you were curled into sobbing ball, his heart shattering into small glass pieces.

he has to think on his feet for this one, and just sat in bed with you, a leg crossed over one as he sat on the edge.

his hand rubbed your back gently, shushing you softly when he heard your sobs turn louder with each second.

he's known about your condition the moment he started dating you, although you were hiding it at first when you met him and started working for the port mafia, you weren't the best at hiding it from him.

he has sharp eyes, and just knows.

sometimes it's scary, but that doesn't worry you.

if he notices you have trouble sleeping, he's in bed with you. if you kick from the pain and hit him, he doesn't care. he just keeps holding you until your calm.

usually you fall asleep, but on the nights when you stay up till 4am and your still not asleep but really tired, he awake with you and distracting you.

asking you what your excited for today. if you want to go on a date sometime to your favorite place in Yokohama.

he's by your side. all the time.

i see atsushi as a visual person.

he's a mixture of dazai and chuuya when he catches on people hurting.

he keeps an close eye on his friends, making sure they're not hurt or sad.

so off the bat he notices you trying to hide your pain. your his girlfriend, how could he not notice he's around you almost all day, besides different missions that you've both been assigned to.

he confronts you when your both alone.

please don't lie to him. he already knows your in pain and is ready to help you.

well, try his best to!

he wants you to talk to him and feel comfortable around him so he can help!

so...after a while you do speak to him alone at home.

now he's on his feet, not trying to keep you to himself, but just keeps an extra eye on you now that he knows about your condition.

when he see's you in pain, he's quick to come and comfort you and help you with whatever you need.

trouble breathing? he's here to help you and demonstrate.

terrible pain? he'll rub that said spot with a gentle touch and whisper sweet nothings in your ear.

he's just so sweet and paient with you, you can never get annoyed at him when he helps you.

if you have trouble sleeping he'll heat you up a nice tea and let you choose a movie you want to watch.

if you do fall asleep, boom his idea worked, but if you both stay up the entire night because of your pain he won't complain. he'll just help you the best way he can.

um.

i think...he'll just be quiet.

like, he has no idea how to comfort people.

and if your in pain? what-what can he do?

he's lived off pain, he is used to it. so seeing someone else in pain just causes him to freeze and walk away from the situation.

however he made a promise, to always be with you and you always be with him.

its liked you both signed a love contract to never leave each other.

sure, an arugument that may last for a while is bound to come across your relationship- but he never wants to actually hurt you.

back to the main point lmao-

maybe he'll hold your hand...to let you know your not alone??

he doesnt...like...seeing you in pain. and especially because it's something you cant control makes it worse for him.

tears start forming in your eyes and you cry?

fuck. what does he do now?

well, he actually hugs you.

sure. he's stiff...but his touch actually makes you feel safer and good.

he stared to notice you started to try and hide your pain from others besides him, and that just sends a warm and fuzzy feeling inside of him.

butterflies?

your not even doing anything!!

that just proves he cares for you and may not say it.

if he catches you taking all-nighters, he just lays in bed with you.

usually...he never sleeps either.

he stays up late or even sleeps at all.

so your both in the same boat for that part.

he's trying his best. he does care, but has a hard time showing that off to you

#๋࣭ ⭑ rue writes 🖋 #bsd imagines #bsd #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd x y/n #bungou stray dogs #bsd dazai #bsd dazai osamu #dazai x reader #dazai osamu x reader #osamu dazai #dazai osamu #bsd chuuya #bsd chuuya nakahara x reader #bsd chuuya nakahara #chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara x reader #bsd atsushi #bsd atsushu nakajima #bsd atsushi x reader #atsushi x reader #atsushi nakajima x reader #bsd atsushi nakajima #bsd akutagawa #bsd akutagawa x reader #akutagawa ryuunosuke #bsd akutagawa ryuunosuke #bsd fluff

[cosmerelists]

Five Questions I I Have about the Cosmere that I'm Too Afraid to Ask

Well, except that I suppose I am asking them, right now. These questions haunt me specifically because I think they have answers and that I should know what they are.

1. What Are Highspren the Manifestation Of?

This one I will sincerely accept an answer for, if anybody (or everybody?) knows. Like, rainspren are rain and honorspren are honor and liespren are lies. I get all that. Are highspren, like...the concept of highness? Like being high in the air? Is that something that gets anthropomorphized? I've read the Coppermind page a bunch of times and it feels like it doesn't specifically say.

What are they??

2. How do the bridges work?

You can try to explain this to me if you'd like but I don't think I'll get it because, well, this one is probably down to my difficulty in picturing things like this. But I just don't understand how the manual bridges in Sadeas' army actually worked. Like, they are pushed across the gap, right? So they have to long enough that they don't just tip in halfway across. Are they just like triple the size of every gap? Also, when they get placed side to side so that a line of horses can run across them--wouldn't they have to be like right against each other so there aren't gaps? How do you do that if you have people holding them on both sides? Can you really push them together if they're that long and most of it is on the other side of the gap already? I just have never been able to picture it, even a little.

3. DO we know what caused the Recreance?

In one of my other posts I expressed a hope that we would learn what caused the Recreance, and several people commented that we knew already [SPOILERS]: that it was because the Radiants learned that their powers destroyed their last planet so they all gave up their oaths. But is that really...it? I don't mean to downplay the destruction of a planet but, like, the current Radiants know that too and none of them seemed even slightly tempted to give up their powers. I just feel like there must be more to it than that...right? Some other, more terrible secret? But is this just me missing the point?

4. Where does the joke about Szeth being good at ice skating come from??

This one drives me nuts because I'm sure I should know. I assume it's something from the Battle of Thaylen City when he was with Lift, but the Coppermind article doesn't say a whole lot about his part in that fight. And I just don't remember. And I'm too lazy to look it up. Please somebody save me.

5. Are there...holidays in the Cosmere?

This is one that's been in the back of my mind for a while. Like...I have no idea what the yearly holidays are on Roshar, or Scadrial, or really any of the planets. I'm not clear if people celebrate their birthdays with a party or go out to dinner on their wedding anniversaries or celebrate the new year. I guess maybe because the books are always taking place in crises? So there's no time for Kaladin to go shopping for a midwinter crab-turkey or whatever? Or for Vin to be buying balloons for Elend's big day? But seriously--do you folks know of any holidays that characters are said to celebrate in times of not-crisis?

#cosmere #cosmerelists #stormlight archive #stormlight archive spoilers #I guess?

[soulprompts]

an unexpected arrival. (A PROMPT LIST!)

so a lovely anonymous angel asked for a list of prompts relating to an unexpected pregnancy, and i made a list! i have two other lists over on my other blog that i'm gonna reblog over here, but there may be some slight overlap with these; however, unlike the other two lists, these focus exclusively on the unexpected part. DON'T ADD TO THIS LIST, DON'T CLAIM IT AS YOUR OWN! but do have a tonne of fun with them!

" so, remember last week, when i had the flu and i couldn't leave my house? turns out it wasn't the flu. i'm pregnant. "

" i'm telling you about this baby because you deserve to know. that's all. i don't expect anything from you. i don't need you to step up or whatever. i just thought you ought to know. "

" i'm sure you don't need to be reminded, but... getting pregnant wasn't exactly part of the whole life plan. "

" you're sure? i mean, you did the test properly? maybe it was a false positive. or, or maybe you didn't read the results right... "

" a baby... well. that certainly complicates things, doesn't it? "

" i don't even know if i want kids. "

" could you please just stop reminding me that this isn't part of the plan?! you think i don't know that?! we're having a baby, i'm terrified enough without you reminding me! "

" look. i'm/you're not the first person to get pregnant, and i/you won't be the last. we're gonna figure it out, alright? "

" my place isn't even close to being big enough for a baby... they need so much stuff. cribs, prams, diaper stations... and my neighbors complain enough as it is, they'll evict me if i have a screaming baby as well... "

" hey... why don't you move in with me? i've got plenty of space, and my walls are thick, so the baby could scream as loud as they want. you could stay as long as you like. "

" should... we get married? i mean, that's what you do, isn't it? when someone's having a baby? "

" okay, we're not getting married. i mean, i appreciate the gesture, but... there's plenty of single parents out there. what's one more, right? "

" god... we are so stupid. i mean, seriously! any idiot knows that condoms aren't 100% effective! if we're dumb enough to forget that, how are we meant to look after a baby?! "

" you... you're kidding, right? this is a joke? it's a fake pregnancy test, some weird, slightly out of touch belated april fool's prank? "

" it's honestly insane that we didn't figure it out sooner... i mean, those were some wild cravings, right? "

" when you say late... do you mean like, a few days? or are we talking... months? "

" no, no, this... it changes everything. EVERYTHING. i... i don't know if i'm ready for this, i don't think i'm parent material, i... "

" hey. you're not alone. you got that? it takes a village, right? i'm gonna help you every step of the way. we all will. this kid, if you choose to go through with it... they'd be okay. "

" you know i support you. whatever choice you end up making. i will always be by your side. okay? "

" if this is some weird idea of a joke, i have to tell you, it's not funny. i mean, you're having a baby AND i'm somehow the dad? a little much, no? "

" no, i want to step up. it took two of us to make this baby, and i want to make sure you know that, if you go ahead with this, there's gonna be two of us to raise them, too. "

" the father doesn't believe that the baby is his. "

" okay. so screw the father. i'm going to be here to help you. okay? we'll parent this kid so well, they'll never want to know who their real dad is. "

" so... you wanna tell me who the father is? "

" the surprise baby is actually not just one baby. we're having twins/triplets/etc. "

" hey, hey... don't worry, okay? it's alright. it's all going to be okay. condoms break, yeah? it's no biggie... "

" what do you mean, you think?! haven't you taken a pregnancy test yet? "

" that's a lot of pregnancy books you got there... got something you want to tell me? "

" have you told the father yet? "

" i guess, seeing how you rushed over here so fast to tell me the news, that you think the baby is mine? "

" look, we both made plans, right? and obviously shit happens, but... a baby is a pretty massive deal. "

" how many other people have you told about the pregnancy? "

" what do you want to do? "

#pregnancy cw #pregnancy tw #tokophobia cw #tokophobia tw #roleplay meme #rp meme #sentence starters #ask meme #writing prompts #roleplay prompts #rp prompt

[emithecharmer]

Opposites Attract

Friend to lovers, teasing, kissing, fluffy, sorry for any mistakes!

"Stop making that face." You groaned but smiled nonetheless as you looked at your friend, Minho.

"What face am I making now?" You asked.

"I don't know, but it's weird."

"You're weird."

"Nice comeback." He smirked as you rolled your eyes, choosing to focus on the shops all around you.

"Ooh, look a bookstore! Let's go in!" He hummed as he opened the door and held it open, acting like it was heavy so you'd walk faster.

He watched as you went through the books, every few minutes you'd pick up one, read the description and put it back, only a select few would you actually put in your bag.

You finally took notice of him softly smiling at you and turned to him.

"Stop making that face." You said plainly, watching his lip curl up slightly as he wagged his finger at you.

"Using my words against me, clever girl." You smiled at the compliment, shrugging your shoulders as if it didn't phase you.

"I know."

.

"Why would you get books you already read?" Minho asked you, as you both waited on your coffees.

"Because I like them, and I didn't have my own copy." You said, stacking the books and putting them back into you bag right as the coffees arrived.

"I'll never understand how you can drink those." You said, watching as he sipped his Americano.

"I could say the same to you." He shot back, pointing to your caramel macchiato.

The thing was, absolutely no one knew how you two were friends. They said opposites attract, but..there had to be a limit, no? You and Minho had nothing in common, except your banter.

"What color should I dye my hair for our new comeback?"

"Why are ya'll coming back already? You never even left." Minho snorted at that before letting out a full laugh.

"Neon green." He rolled his eyes with a smile on his face.

"Absolutely not, I don't even think Hyunjin could pull that off." He said.

"What? You could pull anything off." You said, sipping you drink. Minho tilted his head with a teasing smile.

"You think so?"

"Yeah, ooh, maybe you could do that blue, the dark one, or maybe black-wait not black." He smiled as you corrected yourself.

.

"What movie?" Minho asked, looking up at you from where he was crouched on the ground.

"My Neighbor Totoro!" You cheered.

"Of course." He said, sighing good-naturedly.

.

"Aww, it's so cute how he gives her the umbrella! Awwe!" Minho smiled at you, he watched your eyes light up whenever Totoro came onscreen, and how your hands would shake with excitement. He didn't notice he was staring until you turned to him and blinked.

"Why're you looking at me like that, weirdo." You smiled, pretending to poke his eyes with your fingers.

"What?" He shook slightly, almost as he was waking up from a daze.

"You looked like a lovesick puppy." You teased.

"I think I am."

"Huh?" You were confused, making him smile.

"Seungmin's the puppy, definitely, but I'm lovesick."

"Poor thing." You teased, still not exactly getting where he was going with this.

"I think I'm in love with you." He said, more talking to himself than to you.

"You think?" You asked quietly.

"Well no, I know I am. I guess that's just my first time actually admitting it." He said, turning to you. He noticed your had tears in your eyes, making him chuckle softly.

"Don't cry, don't make this super emotional." He teased as he cupped your face.

"I'll make it as emotional as I want, the guy I've liked for a year and a half just told me he loves me."

"A year..and a half.." Minho repeated quietly, looking down to his bedsheets.

"When we went to Lotte World." You said.

"Same!" That was the most excited you'd ever seen him, he jumped up slightly at the revelation that you both had started to like eachother in the same day.

"Min?" He smiled at the nickname and looked up at you, only to be surprised when you kissed him softly. When you both pulled away, it was you who noticed tears in his eyes.

"Heyy, Min, don't make this super emotional." You teased, only for him to bring you in for another kiss.

"I'll make it as emotional as I want." He replied.

#skz #skz imagines #skz bang chan #skz felix #skz changbin #skz hyunjin #skz minho #skz fluff #skz i.n #skz seungmin #skz han #stray kids #lee know x reader #lee know fluff #lee minho fluff #lee know x you

[luckybunny555]

Secret admirer

You've been receiving strange letters, but they were so sweet and lovely you just assumed someone was too shy to talk to you in person. As you keep entertaining this sweet, secret admirer, you find yourself caught in a dangerous web.

Amber Freeman x GN!/Fem!Reader(no pronouns but for sapphics)

Warnings: creepy behavior, stalking, cursing, if you have trust issues this might be a little "scary"(I'm paranoid so I felt I should put this warning, but writing this didn't make me paranoid so idk), I think that's all

a/n: This is part 1. I'm being fucking delusional here and ignoring all the red flags. No bad ending, alright, I'm not angsty like that

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

You never expected something so sweet and innocent to be, actually, very fucked up. But you also never expected to like it, so I guess it wasn't so bad after all, right?

You assume it all started once a mysterious envelope fell to the floor when you opened your school locker. You were late and rushing, quickly grabbing whatever it was and shoving it between your notebooks, not giving it much thought. Maybe you just had forgotten that you put it there, something like that.

When you got home that day, one of your friends asked for a picture of your notes from that class, which reminded you of its existence once you opened the notebook. After sending the picture, you walked over to your bed, sitting with your legs crossed as you observed the envelope carefully, unsure of its content and origin. You checked the front and the back, but found no identifications, only the lovely heart sticker that kept it sealed. You wondered if there would be a signature inside or, if it was a letter, you might've been able to recognize the caligraphy. So, carefully and curiously, you opened it.

What you found surprised you at first. It was a letter, but it seemed... off. Your heartbeats quickened slightly once your eyes met the magazine cut-out letters, making it look like some sort of ransom note. Ignoring the almost audible palpitations of your heart, you started reading the letter. It was curious, and strange, definetely unusual. But it wasn't threatening. And as you read it, it was a relief that it sounded more like a love letter than a ransom note, which gradually steadied your heartbeats.

The correspondent was surely in love with you, and that was clear by the way they wrote about you. So beautifully and genuinely. You were able to tell how attentive and infatuated they were, when they mentioned small details they liked about you, or moments they found you endearing, even if from afar. There was an additional note by the end, written: "PS: if you'd like to write me back, leave a letter between the pages of your favorite book in the library(I've seen how many times you borrow it, I love that book too)". And at the bottom, the closest thing you found from a signature or identification was "- your secret admirer," still in cut-out letters.

When you snapped back to reality, the warmth of your cheeks invaded your senses, and you finally noticed the hint of a smile on your face. Of course, the letter was still strange, and any rational person would throw it away, not entertain it, and if things got worse, go to the police. But in the moment, you were blinded by the flattery. Sure, you knew of some people who find you attractive, but this was beyond superficial attraction. The way the correspondent wrote about you made it evident they weren't attracted simply by your appearance, although your beauty was undeniable. The attention to the details, the specific compliments on your adorable habit of petting every stray dog or cat you find, how you're so kind and always give compliments to strangers, how lovely and heart-warming was your laugh, how you bit your lip when you were really concentrated, or how you brightly smiled at anyone who talked to you. No, you were convinced this wasn't just someone trying to get into your pants. And the idea of someone being so in love with you? You could already feel giggles and butterflies appearing in your belly.

That's how your secret correspondence started. You replied to the first letter, left it in the book as they asked, and just a few days later, there was another envelope in your locker. You never caught the deliverer, but the mystery added to the thrill. Who could this secret admirer possibly be?

You suspected that you had already talked to them, given their compliments on your voice, your laughter, your kindness, your sweetness. But you didn't have enough clues to guess. That's when you decided to ask them more questions about them. "Would you like to meet sometime?" "What do you look like?" "Have we met in person?" "What are your favorite movies?"

But your secret admirer only kept you guessing. They revealed very little about themselves, playfully teasing you for your curiosity every time you pressed to meet them. You didn't entirely mind their hidden identity, though. There was a thrill in not knowing who you were talking to. And by now, it was easy to ignore the part of your brain that alerted you of the dangers of not knowing a thing about your correspondent'sidentity. You were too caught up in the fantasy to consider the dangers. Besides, they were so sweet to you, how could they be harmful?

You should've seen the red flags. They should've scared you off instead of turning you on.

The letters started getting more intense, more obviously creepy. You knew they were stalking you. You knew they observed you at school, and sometimes in other places. You knew they were jealous of you, hated to see you laughing at another person's joke or hugging one of your friends. You knew they wanted you all for themselves. But still, that wasn't enough for you to cut them off.

Why? Well, besides your (terrible) taste for people with red flags, they also were so nice to you. Not only did you receive letters, but they also started sending you gifts. Sometimes a cute bracelet or necklace, an adorable stuffed animal(you told them about your prized collection), something related to your favorite movies or shows. You weren't necessarily materialistic, but the gifts were so thoughtful and attentive, how could you not fall for your admirer even more? And when you needed something, it was quickly provided for you. You weren't sure how, but they always knew when you forgot an item you needed, or when you were craving something for a while, somehow these things would appear to you.

Maybe that's when you started thinking more rationally. It started feeling slightly weird that someone you didn't know knew so much about you that whatever thing you didn't notice, they did. I mean, how could anyone else know you forgot your notebook at school, or that you had been craving your favorite snack all week? The only person this close to you was your best friend, Amber, but come on, she was your best friend. And of course, you didn't entertain this thought for long. It was more probable that you had a creepy stalker. Which was a problem, because now you had your admirer and Ghostface to worry about.

So, you decided it was better to ignore them. You stopped reading the letters, keeping them all sealed in a box under your bed. You stopped sending letters. And the best safety measure you could think of was to confide in your best friend.

You had invited Amber to come over after school. And now the two of you were in your bed, a movie playing on your TV but neither of you watching it. You were lying on your belly on the opposite side of your bed, and you looked over your shoulder to meet Amber's gaze, who was lying with her head on your pillow, her legs resting on your back.

"Can I tell you something?" You ask, already knowing the answer. She was your best friend for a reason.

"Duh," she replies without taking her eyes off her phone. But she meets your gaze once you shift your position, sitting on your knees to face her. Her attention is fully yours now.

"I've been receiving letters from a secret admirer..." you start, and you can't fight the small smile forming in your face, despite your concern about the situation. "For a while now. But they got kinda creepy and now I'm worried."

She leans closer to you, putting her hand on your leg. "Wait, seriously? Are you okay?" She asks, clearly worried about you. You expected that. Knowing her for so long, it was obvious to you how protective and caring she was.

"Yeah, at least for now," you chuckle, but her concerned expression doesn't fade. "I stopped writing to them, and I'm ignoring their letters. Hopefully they'll notice soon and leave me alone. I just... don't want them to hurt me, y'know? Like if I stop answering them, and they come up to me..." You don't finish the sentence, dreading the consequences of that scenario.

"Hey, don't worry, [name]," Amber reassures you, her grip tightening slightly to comfort you. "I'm not letting anyone hurt you," her voice is gentle and soothing, reminding you of how lucky you were to have her in your life.

You really valued her friendship. She was so caring, you had no doubt of her devotion to you. You knew how much she loved you. She always worried about the people you hung out with, always kept an eye on you to make sure you're safe and comfortable, and wherever you went, she followed. Whether it was at parties, or school, or on your walk home, you knew you had her to protect you. She had always been like that. And you loved it.

Maybe that's why you suspected her when questioning your admirer's identity. Or what attracted you to them. Something you liked in her and found in them too. Which is why you were able to let go of them. You thought you'd miss them, and wouldn't resist the urge to write them back. But you had her, and you realized that in time. I mean, did you notice the way she got all worried and protective over you after you told her about the letters?

Oh, you started noticing too much. And you started falling for her.

What a classic, falling in love with your best friend. But who could blame you? She was perfect for you. Sweet, caring, protective, a bit possessive and jealous, but everyone has flaws. And you needed a source of protection and reassurance. Your friend had just been attacked, her sister too, and a guy(who creeped you out, by the way) was murdered. It was scaring the shit out of you. You needed Amber. And she liked that.

The Ghostface attacks made you paranoid. You could barely sleep, you were easily startled, you didn't answer any calls from unidentified numbers in fear it was Ghostface. You wanted to disappear until this mess was over, but life went on.

Amber, as attentive as she always is, quickly noticed the effect these attacks had on you. And her support never changed. You felt safe with her, even when you knew you would still be a target, with or without her company. She had this invincible aura, at least to you, that made you think no one would ever mess with her. And if you had her, no one would lay a hand on you. That logic had always worked, because no weird guys came up to you, and if people flirted with you and got too friendly, she would cut them off in a second. You had nothing to worry about.

That's what gave you the courage to keep living as if everything was normal, at least most of the time. If you weren't around her, you were texting her, or facetiming her. You got even closer to her than you already were. And your poor heart had to deal with that. Your feelings for her, that you tried to ignore for the sake of your friendship, were bubbling up. You started thinking the butterflies you felt in your stomach had started living in there.

[...]

#scream #scream 5 #scream v #scream x reader #scream 5 x reader #amber freeman #amber freeman x reader #amber freeman x y/n

[thelovelylolly]

Hello! Would you be interested in writing a Miguel x reader fic with a reader who doesn’t want children? I don’t see any of them around so I’d love to see one, and that it’s angstyy and the reader is in love with him and wished they wanted kids but they don’t and is already so heartbroken and assumes he would want them because he loved being a dad. The reader thinks that their relationship will be as good as over. And maybe they could be engaged at this point.

Also the reader keeps thinking ‘what if he finds another variant of Gabriella who needs a father?’ lots of angstttt please but then hurt/comfort 🙇‍♀️ but if you don’t want to write it that’s ok. thank you!

Family

Summary: You don't want kids, but your soon-to-be husband loved being a dad and having a family. Warnings: hurt/comfort, negative thoughts, self doubt, angsty, google translated spanish (let me know if i missed anything) Notes: yesss!!!! i love this idea! i only see miguel x reader fics where reader is ready for a family/has a family already and as much as i enjoy those, sometimes i wish it wasn't the majority of fics :) thank you for your request!

You always knew you didn't want kids. When you were little, you never wanted to be a parent when you played house with your friends. As a teenager, your friends were off doing babysitting jobs, but you never felt cut out for it. In your adult years, all your friends were getting baby-fever or actually having babies. It never really clicked with you, so you just decided that having kids wasn't for you.

When you determined you didn't want kids, you wanted to make sure whoever you spent the rest of your life with understood that. Miguel was perfect, but after a while of dating, he opened up about his daughter and how he loved being a dad. You brushed it off as him remembering his daughter and still coping with what happened to her, which he always avoided talking about.

Then, shortly after you two were engaged, he started talking about kids more and more. You had mentioned, once things started to get serious between you two, that you didn't intend on having kids and he seemed to be perfectly fine with it. Did something change?

You loved Miguel and wanted to give him everything you had, but kids? You knew Miguel wouldn't force you to do anything that you didn't want to do, but would he leave you to find someone who did want a family? You didn't want him to leave, you two were getting married soon, but what if this was the one big thing that could end your engagement? What if you let this simmer for years and when he eventually brings up starting a family, your decision causes a divorce? What if he left you for another universe where he could have a family?

You let your doubtful thoughts eat at you for a while, and without knowing, you started to close yourself off from Miguel. He noticed it though.

You were sitting on your couch one day, enjoying one of your current reads and a cup of tea, when Miguel came in and sat next to you.

"Are you doing okay?" He asked, draping his arm across the back of the couch behind you.

"Mhm," you hummed, leaning down to place your tea and book down before turning to face him. "Why do you ask?"

"You've been...off, amor," he answered, gently tracing patterns on your shoulder. "You can tell me anything, you know that, right?"

"I do, but...I don't know, it feels stupid."

"Hey, just talk to me, okay? I want to help you with whatever's going on, because something is clearly going on."

You sighed, looking away for a second to gather your thoughts then turning and meeting his gaze again.

"I don't want kids. At all," you wanted to give him a second to reply, but you kept going to get it off your chest. "I don't think I've ever wanted kids. When I was little, I never wanted to play with baby dolls or anything like that. I never wanted to babysit for neighbors, I never got baby fever and whenever I held a baby, nothing clicked in me to make me want one of my own. It just...it's not for me, I guess. And I know you loved your daughter and loved being a dad, but I'm not going to budge on my choice. If you want to leave me and find someone else who wants kids, I don't blame you. I want to give you everything I can, Miguel, just not a family."

Silence sat between you two as you both took a deep breath, letting your words sink in. You felt a lump form in your throat and tears pool in your eyes, but you held it back. You could see the pain in Miguel's eyes, and you guessed it was from your words. You were ready for him to get up and leave, or for him to try to convince you to give it a chance, but you would just stand your ground.

Miguel gently cupped your cheek, almost making you break.

"Did...did I make you feel that way?" He asked weakly. "Did I make you feel like you're not good enough for me?"

The dam broke and you started to sob. Miguel wrapped his arms tightly around you, pressing kisses to the top of your head. He let you sob into his chest, letting you get it all out. When you pulled away to look at him, he wiped away any stray tears that were left.

"You never made me feel like this, Miguel. It was all me and my stupid thoughts. I'm sorry-"

"Stop, you don't have anything to be sorry about, cariño. As much as I want another chance to be a dad, I'm not going to throw away what we have and leave you just to get it. I love you, and if you don't want kids, then we won't have kids."

You smiled at him, pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

"I love you so much, Miguel."

"I love you, too."

You laid your head against his chest and melted into his touch, his finger trailing up and down your back.

"You know," he started, "we could get a dog instead."

"How about a cat?"

Miguel smiled. "A cat it is."

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara fanfic #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel ohara fanfic #miguel o'hara x you

[flanaganfilm]

Hi, Mike! So I figured I'd ask something for real before your inbox gets too crowded 😅

I've always been curious about the former residents of Hill House. I feel like there is so much there to be told and unpacked, like how they lived and died. Poppy, William, and their children especially.

I've read some of the reddit "background stories" one of the Hill House writers posted on r/nosleep, but I'm curious to know about your take on it, and if there is a possibility of a prequel series that explores it?

Have a good day!

We had actually written an entire history of Hill House. It was meant to be presented at the beginning of every other episode, and be passages from Steven's book. It would go ball the way to the construction of the house, and then chronicle all of the people who died over the years. It would also have eerie foreshadowing for a lot of the things that would torment the Crain kids.

In particular, it meant that you fully understood the identity of the legless ghost in the basement (and how he was burned), the Tall Man, and the saga of rivalry between Poppy and Hazel Hill. It also spelled out the fact that Mr. Dudley (Robert Longstreet) was actually a Hill himself - his mother was a cleaner who had an affair with one of the Hills.

It ALSO even explained why the kids heard the phantom dogs barking (William Hill slaughtered all of the dogs on the property one horrible night).

We had written it all out and were very excited to film it, but ultimately Netflix and Paramount cut these sequences for budgetary reasons. We never got to film them.

I don't expect there will ever be a prequel series (or any other HAUNTING series for that matter, at least not for quite some time). Which is a real shame. But one of these days I'll try to dig up the mythology we'd created and post it here on Tumblr so that maybe you can all enjoy it.

#the haunting of hill house #history of hill house #but hey at least we came in on budget I guess

[piratefalls]

once again a mix of oldies, goodies, and oldies but goodies, because apparently my brain decided to start treating fic the way i do books: collect them and forget to read them.

masterlist.

all we are is skin and bones by IndestructibleHeart

Alex didn't plan to push Henry Fox into oncoming traffic.

Amigos y Migas by floatingaway4

“Christ, how is this so good? It’s like magic and science and...and I don’t even know what else.” Henry moans as he swallows another bite. “How the fuck does he do this? And how does he do it in a truck the size of our walk-in freezer?” Pez leans back against the wall. “Are you eating that or getting turned on by it, Henners?” Henry rolls his eyes, even as he tries to glare at his head sommelier. “Can’t I do both?” The sauce drips down his wrist and he shamelessly licks it off.

silk and steel by teacupivy

Thanks to a welcome day off, Henry and Alex spend a lazy morning in bed. Soft, mid-morning cuddles escalate into semi-soft, mid-morning sex.

Never Truly Leave by clottedcreamfudge

"We found something in Arthur's things," Catherine says, without any preamble. "I've never really... gone through his personal effects properly, until now. It's been rather too difficult for me to face." Alex nods. ... "I found something for Henry, but it's... Well, it's actually for you." Alex blinks at her.

Date night (it's a tie) by TheAmberFox

“So here’s what’s going to happen, sweetheart. I want you to strip out of these clothes and get on the bed, so I can tie you to our headboard with both our stupidly boring ties and make you come until you can’t any more. Would you be amiable?”

religion's in your lips (even if it's a false god) by coffeecatsme

“You seriously never heard of Henry?” Alex feels defensive. “Should I have?” he asks, and the guy stares at him for another second before a laugh escapes his lips. “Well, rumor has it he’s turned multiple people here gay.” Or, 5 times Henry brings a guy home and 1 time he doesn't have to. Or, Henry is a rumored sex god, Alex is his roommate, and he's jealous of everyone Henry brings through the front door.

Race You to Forever by allmylovesatonce

Alex comes up with the perfect proposal idea: He and Henry should compete for it. Henry is less than enthused, but agrees anyway. Neither of them could predict the strange things that happen when they're competing for who gets to propose to the other.

a rich and complex tapestry by everwitch

When Alex first hooks up with Henry, he's expecting a fun one-night-stand and maybe the occasional booty call. He does not expect to get so completely pulled into Henry’s orbit that it forces him to reevaluate everything he thought he knew about his sexuality. And he's not sure if it makes it better, or way worse, that Henry is actually a professional at all this stuff — what are the odds that Alex would hook up with the one guy on campus who hosts his own radio show about sex? 'Sleeping With Henry' is about to gain one devoted listener.

I fall to pieces when I'm with you by viciouslyqueer

If once is an accident, and twice is a coincidence, when it happens a third time Henry really starts to think about it. — Three times Alex doesn't want Henry to touch him and one time he understands why.

I must tell you what you will not ask by lizzie_bennetdarcy

Henry's lower lip wobbles, and a fresh tear rolls down his cheek. Alex watches it track down to his chin, and wonders if Henry would mind him wiping it away. “I really was looking forward to seeing them.” Another tear escapes, and this time Alex can't help but lean forward and brush it away with his thumb. Henry's breath catches, and he looks at Alex, wearing an expression he can't quite parse. “Come home with me,” Alex blurts out. Henry's plans for Christmas fall through, so Alex invites him home for the holidays. They're best friends, strictly platonic roommates, so why does everyone think they're dating?

love me long, be my sunlight by weather_stained

“What is it, then?” Henry asks. Alex glances up at him, and there’s laughter in his big brown eyes. “It’s porn,” he says gleefully. “In your handwriting.” While unpacking their office together, Alex comes across some very explicit Star Wars fanfiction written by none other than HRH Prince Henry himself.

we might just get away with it by smc_27

Henry is the most gorgeous man Alex has ever seen. And Alex has seen a lot of gorgeous men. He’s a fucking model. “This is Henry Fox-Mountchristen,” Prada’s current PR lead says, and Alex smiles and pushes his hand out. “He’s a journalist covering the merger.” Alex doesn’t know what merger or what it would have to do with Paris Fashion Week. But he does know that Henry holding a glass of champagne as he shakes Alex’s hand is maybe the sexiest thing ever, and there is just no explanation for that. “Hi. I’m Alex.” Henry says, “I know,” and then does this weird, forced smile at Bianca and walks away. Alex doesn’t know how to like, not be completely obsessed with things he wants. OR, Alex is a model. Henry is a journalist, and a bit of an asshole. Alex wants him anyway, even when it doesn’t feel good.

Someone Special by bleedingballroomfloor

"That was Shaan," Henry explains as Alex snuggles closer to him, pressing his nose to his neck. "The blizzard hit early, apparently. Too risky to fly." "So Christmas here?" Alex says in that sleepy drawl of his that Henry will never get tired of. "Fuckin' sweet."

Because I'm A Scoundrel by inexplicablymine

Alex Claremont-Diaz has exactly thirty minutes to make himself look as slutty as possible for this Halloween Gala. At this very moment he looks a little bit like a sexed up pirate, but with the addition of his small black vest - rest in peace to the Patagonia packers and finance brethren- and a low slung belt with a “blaster,” a very sex-on-legs Han Solo is looking back at him. Henry Fox, who is both a double scull rower with enough Olympic medals it would make anyone other than Alex sweat, and the definitive arch nemesis of Alex - is wearing a white sylvette Princess Leia costume, hugging his curves in all the right ways, the clingy fabric draping to the floor. When you and your arch nemesis show up to the most important gala of the year in a couples costume you either play it up or shut it down. Alex has a decision to make, but the way that dress is hugging Henry’s ass isn’t making that decision any easier.

the super sick(s) by cricketnationrise

Super Six snowed in at the brownstone.

two is better than one by rizcriz

Henry swallows. “You were going to propose to me tonight?” Alex nods. “I still am,” He says, throwing his hands out at his sides. “If I can find the damn ring.” “Right. But,” Henry reaches into his pocket and pulls the ring out of his pocket that he’d quite literally just picked up from the jeweler. “I was going to propose to you tonight.” He holds the ring box up between them. -- Or, Alex and Henry both want to propose.

every tale condemns me for a villain by tintagel

Alex Diaz is one of the worst villains to have come out of reality TV in a while. Just Henry's luck that he's doing a signing for his new autobiography at the bookshop. But it's tough to hate someone when you only see what's been edited together.

Oxidation by Thee_Maxwell

“Well, Alex–” and yep. Yeah. Yeah. His name sounds as nice in Henry’s mouth as he hoped it would. His vowels are open, wide, but he doesn’t hesitate when saying it. It comes out like he knows Alex, like he’s known Alex. He goes a little warmer at the thought, and if he were doing anything other than flirting with a very pretty boy, Alex would blame it solely on the alcohol. “–I’ve got to ask. Is there more to the getup?” That catches him off-guard, and he’s not entirely sure what Henry means, so he tilts his head like a dog watching something that interests him. Henry huffs out a laugh, but clarifies, “Perhaps I’m mistaken. The uh, the hanky. Cowboy, yeah?”

blushing ears and bleeding hearts by kill8a

The man is gorgeous. Like, objectively. Long legs and wide shoulders and wavy blonde hair, cheekbones sculpted from marble, black pressed slacks and a robin egg blue button down, expensive loafers on his feet and a nametag pinned on his shirt… Alex doesn’t understand how someone can walk out of the house and just look like that. or, alex meets henry while studying in the library and is immediately interested

when you know, you know by vibrantsaturn

With shaky hands, Henry pulls out the ring from the box, looking at Alex with tearful eyes that he adores so much. Asks, "Alex, darling, will you marry me?" Alex lets out a watery laugh, swiping an arm across his face to get rid of the rapidly falling tears. He kneels down to cup Henry's face and brushes his thumbs across his cheekbones softly. "Baby. Don't you remember?" Alex whispers, leaning their foreheads together. "We're already married."  or, Alex "marries" his best friend when he's six-years-old. It just takes some time for them to fall in love, but they get there.

if you take a life, do you know what you'll give? by anincompletelist

It would have been one thing had Alexander’s job description been simply to stay in his hotel room and operate the funds covertly, an exceedingly safe distance away from Henry and any of Le Chiffre’s men. As it is, they’d instructed Alex to play the part of Henry’s date for the night, subsequently granting him the access he’d need to the private cardroom within the casino in order to report back to headquarters the funds needed in the precise moment Henry would need them. It's too dangerous, and he knows it. Henry's had a lot of blood on his hands in this life, but he refuses to have Alex's as well.

Got a will to win and a Cheshire grin by @kiwiana-writes

Please find attached the list of collective bargaining agreement breaches reported by the Sports and Recreation Floor in December. As the designated union representative, it is my responsibility to ensure that the rights and interests of our members are protected and upheld, even (or maybe especially) during our busiest time of year. In accordance with the grievance procedure outlined in our collective bargaining agreement, we request that Santa’s Workshop takes immediate corrective action to remedy these breaches. Please set up a meeting at your earliest convenience to discuss these issues further and explore appropriate resolutions. Thank you for your immediate attention to this matter.

You're the Perfect Gift for Me by chamel

“Twenty-one-year-old Scotch,” the man says with a low whistle, looking more impressed than anything else. “Special occasion or just expensive taste?” Alex can’t stop his grimace. “Came up here to propose,” he says, even though this random stranger doesn’t need to hear his woes. “Found out my girlfriend’s getting back together with her high school sweetheart.” “Ouch,” the man replies, the word sounding slightly absurd in his rounded, posh accent. He looks at the bartender. “Leave the bottle.” (Dumped two days before Christmas by his girlfriend, Alex meets a British writer who's spending Christmas on his own in generic Tiny Town, USA, and together they discover something new to celebrate.)

the clementine thing by saintlynomenclature

And, really, it doesn’t matter whether or not Alex explains it to Liam and the rest of his friends. They’ve never really discussed it between themselves through the years. Slowly, Alex had gone from asking Would you please peel this for me? to Please? to silently extending the citrus without any comment at all, just a soft smile. It’s one of the things that make them Alex-and-Henry; the silent conversations and the contentment in each other’s company. Now, as Alex starts to flourish through his position on the lacrosse team, his slew of AP classes, and his role in student government, getting him to slow down at all is a feat. The only way that Henry can do it, guaranteed, is by one of those innocuous little fruits. There’s nothing Alex can’t do—surely, he could peel a fucking orange if he felt so inclined—but Henry delights in being able to do this for him. - Five times Henry shares a clementine with Alex, and one time Alex returns the favor

You're So Attractive; How Did That Happen by @sparklepocalypse

Henry is a big man. He’s tall — taller than either of his siblings and most of his cousins. His shoulders are broad. Years on horseback have helped him develop decent muscle mass. So when Alex storms into his life like a beautiful, infuriating tornado, Henry fully expects to continue feeling big. But Alex has ways of making Henry feel small, cherished, even precious. (Or, three things about Alex that make Henry feel wonderfully small, and one thing that doesn't.)

as always, if you want me to tag you for whatever reason just let me know. see you next week!

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#RWRB rec list #rwrb #rwrb fic #red white and royal blue #RWRB fanfiction #firstprince #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #alexhenry