#that being said i do want to key into the fact that not all personalities have the trait of persistence

[incorrect-spideytorch]

So, I’ve been thinking a lot about spideytorch lately (as I am one to do) and a question popped into my head:

What is the most important spideytorch comic panel?

There’s a ton of great options in my opinion, but I think there also is an answer (at least for me) so now I am going to subject all of you to my thought process. Get ready for a way to long post breaking this down.

The most obvious starting point has to be this classic

Johnny Storm is going full house husband for Peter Parker, I mean c’mon! add in the fact that he’s in his undies and the way that he’s leaning over peter… yeah this is a classic. This might be the most famous spideytorch panel out there, but I don’t think it’s the most important one.

Another classic (but more antagonistic?) one takes place, of course, at the usual place.

To me this is peak identity shenanigans and the stuff that fanfics are made of. The betrayal, the heartbreak, the complications that go into the conflicting way these two view identity, oh boy I could talk about that shit for hours, but as an individual moment, it doesn’t really crack most important for me, it needs a bit more affection (they’re very bad at affection sometimes).

Another panel that came to mind very quickly for me is this set.

Johnny literally only had to say his name and Peter knew exactly what he meant and what he needed. This is top tier levels of communication, both between them and from the creators to us. I think this is another one that I could talk about for hours. That being said, it doesn’t feel important enough to me.

A friend in the spideytorch discord server posed this panel as the most important spideytorch moment in the comics.

I’m just gonna put their quote in cause it’s great. “I think this is one of my favorite panels cause Johnny was just speaking generally and Peter was like ‘oh my god! Actual wise words form johnny’ but also, I love that this was a more important moment for Peter than Johnny.” I must say, this entry is extremely important to spideytorch and gave my choice a run for its money. I don’t have a huge reason for not making this one the most important, other than personal taste. For their relationship, this is a key moment and sets them on the path to actually being friends (at least on Peter’s end), but idk it just wasn’t doing it for me.

Another panel I was reminded of thanks to this submission was this moment.

It’s not quite as impactful as the past one by a long shot but I do think it’s important. After being rivals for so long, to see Johnny give a genuine heartfelt compliment to Peter is fantastic (haha). This feels like the other half of the previous set of panels. There we had Johnny encouraging a stranger and here he’s encouraging his friend.

Some other friends in the discord server suggested the moment that Johnny invites Peter over to watch his sex tape (yes this is canon).

(Not pictured, Peter swinging away and saying he needs to take a cold shower). Now I’m not saying that the most important spideytorch moment needs to be serious, but I think this moment might be too unserious to claim that title. This moment was huge for the fanbase because holy shit did, he actually say that, but for their relationship, I just don’t think it was as important as it was to us.

Now I do want to knock out a few honorable mentions that I would hate to miss.

First, this look given to Spidey by Johnny, I mean yeah, he’s in love.

And to balance the lovesick flirty scales I must expose Peter as well.

Next, this heartbreaking moment that basically admits to the audience that Peter’s world becomes chaos when he loses Johnny. That shit hits.

Of course, the moment that gave us the ship name.

A panel that lives in my head rent-free because honestly marvel what were you attempting to convey here other than the fact that Peter really wants to have hate sex with Johnny Storm?

To take us outside of our duo, this quote from Ben Grimm (EDIT: it’s was Peter’s clone Ben Reilly, which honestly only adds more drama), because honestly same.

And of course, I have to include the panel which showed us the first time (on page) that Peter told Johnny he loved him AND gave us canon proof that these two have “date night,” many a fic writer was fed well.

And how could we forget! THE USUAL PLACE! Literally any panel mentioning this is top tier because its so good, like the core of the fandom honestly.

Lastly, before moving on to my own more serious contenders I have to share this parallel that @sciderman shared because I love it.

Now to my serious contenders for the title of most important spideytorch panel (please remember this is all my opinion and I mean no shade). This will be a top 5, but just know some of these rankings are pretty flexible (even flexible with some panels from the beginning), and this question should not be taken as seriously as I am taking it, I am fully aware of that.

Number 5!

So, I know that I discounted the sex tape scene earlier because I didn’t think it was serious enough and it didn’t do enough for their actual relationship, but I had to include this one I’m sorry. A lot of this is personal taste but the implications here are *chefs kiss* The first time I saw this panel was actually on Pinterest with the caption “wait a second, did spider-man and the human torch have sex?” which says it all for me.

Beyond that, this moment also shows how they reach out to each other when they have problems. Strange children show up in Peter’s life and the first person he calls about it is Johnny. Again, this is not the most serious, but I love it. This moment shows the banter of their relationship, how they care about and rely on each other, and also potentially reveals that they’ve had sex. There’s a lot to take in.

Number 4!

I will be honest with you all, this moment is here almost entirely because Ben’s quote lives in my head rent-free. Everyone around them sees how they feel about each other besides them. When they were rivals others could tell they actually liked each other and when they became friends others could tell that it was deeper than that. I think I especially love this panel because it conforms that we’re not crazy for thinking there’s something there but also because Ben specifically cites the way Johnny looks at peter. That is very specific and says a lot. I can’t imagine Ben would say this if the looks Johnny gave Peter were purely platonic, and just ahhhh, there’s so much said here just in one line from Ben. There was of course the Ben moment earlier, which I also love, but something about this one, the more specific phrasing of it I think just shoots it up my rankings a lot.

Number 3!

If you’ve been following me for a while I don’t think this is a surprise at all, I have already done a very in depth post about this panel so I’ll keep my thoughts brief. Red Skull knows that hurting Johnny will hurt Peter, Peter’s Spidey senses go off FOR JOHNNY, and we are given so much angst potential, I love it.

Number 2!

This one is probably a more popular choice than my number one, and I totally get it. The excitement and joy bursting out of Peter when he finally realizes that Johnny is here, he’s real, and he’s alive really gets me. Plus, the added context to the uniform comment being that Johnny literally left Peter his family and his spot on the team in his will. The amount of pure love in this moment and its larger context is abundant, platonic or romantic, it’s there. I feel like everything I could say about this panel has probably been said before, but it is definitely worthy of being the most important spideytorch moment, even if I have one that beats it for me.

Number 1!

For those of you who don’t know, this panel comes from Peter visiting Gwen’s grave and talking to her. That fact alone breaks me in half but then the things he says to her shatter me. Every spider-man fan knows how much Gwen’s death broke Peter, it destroyed him to lose her. Just the fact that Peter admits Johnny brings part of him back is amazing (haha) because that is a hug feat. But then he shatters me even more with his final sentences. After Gwen’s death, we often get a peter who spends too much time as Spidey in order to avoid having to cope with Gwen’s death as Peter, but also as a way to cope with the loss (he’s a complicate man). Spideypool also gets a lot from that arc because of Wade’s reaction to Spider-Man not holding back as much and becoming less of a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, and that’s true. The fact that Peter feels like he’s becoming who Spidey is supposed to be again when he’s around johnny is huge! But then! He corrects himself. He’s not Spidey again, he’s Peter. The real person, the man behind the mask, comes back. And then you get the final correction. He’s not just peter again, he’s *Gwen’s* peter again. He is the him that existed with Gwen when he’s with Johnny. That speaks volumes and breaks whatever parts of me are left. How am I expected to read this and not think that Johnny and Peter are soulmates?

Now, I will acknowledge that this is much more of a peter moment than a joint spideytorch moment, much like the moment suggested by discord friend earlier. If that disqualifies it for you as the most important spideytorch panel, I get it. However, for me that doesn’t matter mainly for one key reason. So many classic spideytorch moments show a lot of Johnny having feelings for Peter or making a move on Peter. There have been a lot of times when I’m trying to get a friend into spideytorch, and I feel like I have to clarify that its not as one sided as it seems. Johnny is much more out there with who he is and doesn’t hide his feelings very well (except maybe from himself). So, when we get any spideytorch moment that hones in on peter’s feelings and love for Johnny, that feels so huge to me. This moment alone proves that it isn’t one sided, Peter has deep feelings for Johnny, even if he’s not sure what they are yet, he knows that what they have is special, he wouldn’t be telling Gwen about it otherwise. While it may not be as famous of a spideytorch moment, its an important one, and for me it’s probably the most important one.

Anyway, this has been a way too long post about this topic but if you made it to the end thank you so much! I would love to hear other people’s thoughts on this topic so feel free to share those. Also, just a reminder that these are my opinions, and I am not in charge at all so don’t take it too seriously (unless you want to).

If you’re interested in hearing me, go more in depth on any of these panels (or any other spideytorch panels) shoot me an ask because I could honestly talk in depth for a while about most of these panels and I would love to do so. Thank you again for reading this way to long post and good night spideytorch nation.

#spideytorch #alt descriptions coming soon! #peter parker #johnny storm #peter x johnny #peter parker x johnny storm #mine :) #fantastic four #spider-man #marvel #comics #spideytorch meta #marvel meta #enjoy my chaos

[3hks]

How to Get Better at Writing Without Actually Writing

Are you looking to improve your writing without needing to write? I'll admit, I am definitely that kind of person--I have the hardest time even finding something interesting to write--despite that, I have noticed that my writing has vastly improved over the past year or two when it was hardly a hobby, and here's how I did it!

ANALYZE DIFFERENT WORKS

Yes yes, everyone tells you to READ, READ, and READ, even I will agree. However, unlike what some people tell you, you don't actually have to read all those classics like Heart of Darkness or The Hobbit. Of course, those books are very beneficial, but if you find no interest in those types of books (like me), then don't read them!

If you prefer reading casual stories posted by online authors, whether it be a fanfiction or their own, original story, it still qualifies as reading! As long as you are able to find a work that you particularly enjoy, that's all you need!

When reading, the key to improving at writing is to always study the story. Take a moment to look at certain words or phrases that stick out to you. How does the author use them? What do they mean? Keep track of the characters' development and how it affects them. Additionally, note things like powerful scenes, dialogue, and more to have an idea of how you can create something just as impactful. For example, if a text made you cry, think about how and why you reacted like that. This can actually help you re-create events that hold the same effectiveness, if not more!

To add on, if you really dislike reading just that much, then you can always analyze things like shows, movies, etc. However, this will prove to be less efficient because you often don't get access to the text behind the shows. Still, it's a good way to study the plot, characters, character developments, dialogue, and relationships!

2. PROOFREADING

No, I'm not saying that you should be an editor; this actually ties back to my first tip. Remember how I said that if you don't want to read classics, then don't? Well, this is because forcing yourself to read them is completely unnecessary (unless you like them or want to write like the author, of course). As a matter of fact, reading poorly written stories can be very helpful for improvement!

When we read books or novels that have obvious grammar errors, repetitive words, and choppy sentences, we will realize these mistakes and point them out to ourselves. Being able to scout out faults means that we are able to learn from them and grow! Noticing these things will also help prevent you from making the same or similar mistakes!

3. STUDY TIPS ONLINE

I used to go search up websites on Google whenever I wanted help with a certain topic. Of course, not all of the sites are reliable and/or helpful, but some point out good ideas that a couple of us just need! This can be especially useful regarding the things that we are unfamiliar with when writing. They can offer a base foundation and tips on how to start and finish!

They can also serve as a great inspiration for fresh ideas and new perspectives!

Yes, these three tips are pretty simple; however, I have found that they work very well for me! People vary from person-to-person, so it can't be guaranteed the same effect, but this is the best I got! HAPPY VALENTINES DAY! <3

Happy writing~

3hks :)

#writing #writeblr #writerscommunity #writing tips #creative writing #writing advice #improve at writing #improve at writing without writing #writers on tumblr #writer tips #get better at writing #get better at writing without writing

[emmyrosee]

tw// cursing, yelling, long stints of fighting, Kiyoomi is a little toxic, blood, patching up injuries, broken noses, ANGST- please be safe friends ❤️

I talk a lot about Kiyoomi being an amazing sport about your clinginess, your closeness, and your affections, right?

But what about when he's not?

What happens when the one day you try to crawl into his skin, spilling your head over his shoulder and squeezing him tightly, peppering kisses over the side of his face and jawline, and when he asks you to please stop, you don’t.

“You’re just too yummy,” you say happily. You bite his ear, “this is your tax.”

He shrugs you off sharply, “I’m not paying the tax today.”

You stumble back slightly, regaining your footing and taking a step back from him. “I’m sorry… bad day?”

Bad day. Yeah. It was. He can’t fathom how bad today was, how every time he said anything, Miya was right in his ear simply talking, sending shivers of annoyance to course through kiyoomi’s veins. How Bokuto accidentally almost hit the ball straight to his face, his own intensity almost causing Kiyoomi the season. How meian benched him for being too intense, too much and needing to ‘cool off’ with every spike and scowl kiyoomi flails to the other side of the court. How the threats of sending him home for his attitude started, causing Kiyoomi to shut his mouth but white knuckle the rest of the day.

But kiyoomi doesn’t answer that like a normal person.

That would be too easy.

“Maybe I just don’t want you dangling off of me the second I walk in the door.”

His mind screams at him to shut up, but he can’t.

You take a deep breath in, “I didn’t know, I’m sorry. Usually you… you don’t mind-“

“Well maybe I should start minding.”

Shut up.

Your eyes hold betrayal as he spews his venomous words, your chest rising and falling as he balls his fists to try and ground himself.

“I’m sorry. I’ll think more about your feelings when I try to cuddle you.”

“What you do is not cuddling-“ the balled fist slams against the countertop. “It’s clinging. It’s suffocating. It’s ridiculous, and it’s obnoxious-“

“‘Yoomi-“

“And for the love of all that is fucking malevolent would you PLEASE STOP CALLING ME THAT!” He roars. “I gotta deal with it from FUCKING MIYA, now I have to deal with it at HOME FROM YOU?”

You don’t know why you do it. But you flinch.

He’s so loud, so in your face and so mean that it happens without you even knowing you did it, the only indication being that his face instantly drops and pales at the mere idea of you being so afraid of him you flinch.

He says nothing. He can’t. What could he say?

He quickly makes a dash to the door, grabbing the keys dangling from the hook and leaving right then and there, bile rising in his throat and chest swelling with disgust as your terrified face plays over and over, like a movie he can’t turn off because he’s the one who put it on.

He runs. He runs fast and far, down the street and over hills and across crosswalks that don’t permit him from crossing yet, trying to create distance between himself and the monster he was god knows how long ago.

He finds himself- somehow- at work, the bright lights of the arena snapping him back to reality that you’ve been alone for who knows how long, but at least long enough where he’s back at his physical job. On foot.

The gods give him the smallest semblance of mercy as Miya and Hinata are still together, setting and spiking away until their hands grow calloused, cheering with each successive spike sent hurdling to the floor.

Hinata notices the panting Kiyoomi first, his head cocking in concern. “Hey… thought you didn’t want to train with us?”

“You.” Kiyoomi’s dark eyes fall onto Miya, and without even processing the fact that he shouldn’t be doing this, he makes a blind dash at the blonde, who then instinctively runs the other way.

Hinata instinctively darts out of the way, “woah! What! Miya what’s going on!”

“I didn’t do anything!” The blonde whines. “Not this time! I swear!” Hinata scrambles into action, chasing after Kiyoomi who’s on another runners high as he chases his teammate around the linoleum floors of the volleyball court but is still no match for Hinata’s own speed.

Great for Miya Atsumu. Terrible for sakusa Kiyoomi.

Bulky arms wrap around Kiyoomi’s waist and immediately weights around him, slowing him down from skinning Miya alive, “no, sakusa! Enough!”

“I’ll kill him!” He barks at whoever will listen to his threat. “I’LL KILL YOU!” He points a finger at the blonde.

And Hinata’s not proud of it. Honest! But it’s what he had to do to stop his friends from mauling each other, and he trips Kiyoomi flat onto his face, a sickening crunch! under the squishing cartilage of nose and skull slamming into the floor. He lays there in defeat, panting softly into the floor and crying even quieter as his two teammates surround him.

He needed to cry. That’s it. Now that he’s crying, his salty tears mixing with the blood dribbling from his nose and the gash in his head, he feels better, he feels lighter and like he’s finally getting to express every fractal of emotion that surged through his veins all day in what is finally a healthy way.

It only cost you being uncomfortable around him.

He safely decides it’s not worth it.

“Sakusa,” Hinata begins. “What happened?”

“I was cruel,” he says, now wailing into the floor. “They flinched at me. I ruined everything. Again.”

He can’t tell from looking, but he practically feels the weight of understanding fall onto his teammates, a soft ‘ahhh,’ falling from Miya’s lips. He hears the squeak of shoes next to his head, and when his bloody face turns upward to see Miya Atsumu’s calm, non-judgmental features, he cries even harder, his tears mingling with blood as they fall to the floor.

“Go home, Kiyoomi.”

“I can’t. I shouldn’t.”

“Yes, you should,” Hinata interjects. “You need to be there. I don’t know what happened, or what Atsumu did to piss you off, but I know you want to sort this out.”

“I ran here,” Kiyoomi sniffles. His hand instinctively comes to wipe his nose, the taste of blood filling his throat once he’s finally able to see just the sheer amount he’s bleeding.

“YOU RAN HERE?!”

“I had to. I had to go somewhere.”

“I’ll take him home,” Miya sighs, calmly stepping away for a moment to grab his keys and bag. Hinata claps a large, comforting hand on Kiyoomi’s back, his own feet stepping away as Kiyoomi childishly stays on the floor, blood trickling onto his lips and down his chin. He’s gonna have a gash in his head for sure, maybe even a black eye, and he hopes you’re open to taking him to the hospital to get it clean.

The car ride back home is silent, save for the occasional sniffles coming from Kiyoomi and his pinched nose, stuffed with bloody toilet paper. Miya keeps his car surprisingly clean, it smells like pine and citrus and it cuts through the tension and pounding in kiyoomis head from the smell. He doesn’t know when, but Kiyoomi mumbles a soft “I’m sorry” at some point.

Miya chuckles, “you’re having a bad day. We all get those. You ain’t special.” It makes Kiyoomi chuckle softly, for the first time in what feels like days. When the car rolls up to your shared house, kiyoomi shakily gets out of the car, slamming the door closed and leaving Miya to drive off.

“Kiyoomi?”

“What?”

“You come at me like that again, I’ll give you another black eye.”

Kiyoomi chuckles and shakes his head at the blonde, “you’d never even get a shot in.” He rolls his shoulders, sniffles back a little bit more blood, and makes his way inside, shaky hands opening the door and stalking in like a zombie.

When he comes into your view, you’re quick to get on your feet, getting up to fuss over him.

“Fucks sake,” you gasp, cupping his cheeks and inspecting the dried blood over his face. “You leave for two hours and come back beaten up?”

“I fell.” Not really a lie.

“Yeah, don’t care,” you snap, grabbing his wrist and tugging him to the bathroom. “Let me clean you up. Is your nose broken?”

“Doesn’t feel like it.”

You groan and gently grab the bridge of his nose, and he whines and reels his head back petulantly out of pain. “Ow.”

“Yeah. Go to the doctors, Kiyoomi.”

Kiyoomi.

Shit.

“Please come with me?”

He sees you tense up as you grab a wet towel, pausing your movements and taking in a deep breath to calm down, “yeah. Yeah I’ll go.”

“Hold my hand when I’m scared?” He tries to joke.

You don’t laugh. You don’t say anything. You dab the blood from his lips and chin, careful of his nose and the bruising around his eye. “I don’t know where you fell but you’ve got a black eye blooming.”

He tucks his swollen lip into his teeth nervously, “I ran to Miya.”

“Osamu?”

“No. Atsumu.”

Your hand pauses again, “did he hit you?”

“No. He’d never.” Even if he did deserve a smack coming to him.

You roll your eyes and escort him out of the bathroom, “come on. I’ll drive.”

The drive to the hospital is silent.

The waiting room is silent between you both.

Sitting in the doctor’s office is silent, save for the crunching of his nose as his doctor recenters his nose and he whines in pain. You do squeeze his hand through the pain, even if he doesn’t deserve your kindness.

The ride home is silent.

Your walk to your bedroom is silent, and as Kiyoomi sets up a bed on the couch is silent.

The next few days are silent. Kiyoomi can’t play due to his nose, leaving him to merely watch on the sides with a protective splint covering the bone. At home, it’s no better, with you dodging his kisses and affections with no indications you’ll ever want them again.

He wonders, briefly, if this is it. You realize you’re too good for him, worth more than a man who plays volleyball and screams at people, you deserve the stars and moon and you’re not getting it from him.

Between losing you and volleyball, he hopes its punishment enough

He can’t take it anymore. He’s lost the two loves of his life in the span of four hours, over a stupid mistake he made his bed with.

It’s been four days; you haven’t said six words to him, and he doesn’t even bother trying to get affection from you, he knows better than that. But he’s yearning for you, and while he’d never force anything onto you, he just wants to know:

Is there anything worth salvaging? Or is it just an exhaustive task, one he already knows the answer to, and you’re just too kind to tell him in person?

He needs to find out.

“Smells good in here,” he says quietly, looking at you with optimistic eyes. You give him a shrug back and continue to dress the warm bread with garlic and butter. “What’re you making?”

“I… I uhm saw a thing online on how to make bread shaped like a frog,” you say, turning back to it quietly. “Thought it would be fun.”

“It’s cute.”

“Thanks.”

The room is quiet, and when Kiyoomi hesitantly leans in for a kiss, you turn away, not ready for his affections yet.

Maybe ever again.

“I would like to kiss you,” he says, pleadingly.

“I don’t want to kiss you.”

“That’s okay. Can I… can I hug you?”

At the idea of being trapped in his arms, you shake your head, pushing him away and trying to make some distance. He obeys, but as you continue to shove him, he suddenly tries to intervene

“Please, stop,” he chokes, grabbing your hands to still you.

“Stop what?” You ask, even though you know the answer. Your hands do stop shoving him, but you avoid his gaze intently.

He sighs shakily, “I love you. I love you and every part of you. I love when you try to get inside of my skin and take my socks off with your toes. I like when you pick my nose and tickle me because I hate it, I like it when you sniff me, please just love me again.

I was so agitated that day, and that wasn’t your fault, and now I’ve ruined us because I was cruel. But please,” he collapses to his knees and wraps his arms around your legs, “just love me again. You’re safe, and it’s okay. Please.”

You don’t return his emotion, having been hurt by showing it before has made the feeling sour. “Kiyoomi-“

“It’s ‘yoomi. What happened to yoomi, why won’t you call me that anymore?”

“You screamed it out of my vocabulary, in case you forgot,” you snap. He squeezes your legs tighter like a child. “You don’t get to keep doing this. You don’t get to decide one day to snap or tell me know about something I’m doing, then a few days later tell me you miss doing it. For fucks sake, I flinched!” He starts to tremble against your legs. “And now you tell me you want to go back to how it was! You’re out of your mind.”

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’ll try my hardest to be better for you. A better man. A better boyfriend.”

“There’s almost no way for you to be worse.”

This time, he lets you go and stands up. His eyes are swollen with tears, the dark irises even deeper from the reddening of his scleras. “So, what?” He begins, voice wobbly. “We’re just never going to show affection again? Be in loveless love? Is that my punishment?”

“It’s NOT THAT BLACK AND WHITE!” You yell, losing your composure for the first time that fight. Your hands come down to grip and smack the bread against the counter, ruining it and sending crumbs flying everywhere. You sigh and lazily throw it in the sink in defeat, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. “You sincerely think I wouldnt love nothing more than to wrap MY arms around you, squish your cheeks in MY hands, crawl into YOUR lap and cuddle when you get home? You think I wanted to make bread shaped like a fucking frog for fun? NO! I’m doing it, because YOU told me YOU didn’t want me to DO THOSE THINGS!”

“I was wrong!” He yells back. “I’m sorry!”

“THAT DOESNT MEAN IT WAS STILL OKAY TO DO!”

The room is silent. Too silent. Theres a rattling of dishes that can be heard from your screams of agony, a cabinet creaks and somewhere away, the dryer dings to signal its contents to be done.

Kiyoomi takes a deep inhale in through his nose to keep himself grounded, and you watch with balled fists. “I want you to feel like you have space. You deserve that. But you also need to know you’re endgame for me. You’re the only one I want, the only one who makes me feel excited to wake up in the morning and slip into sleep at night. And if this is it for us, you need to know that you were the greatest thing that ever happened to me.”

You give him a sad, shaky sigh.

“I made a mistake. I made you feel unsafe in your own home. You never deserved that, never deserved that level of cruelty. Do you understand?”

“I think so,” you murmur.

“Do you need me to stay with Bokuto for a few nights?”

“No.”

“Do you need me to sleep on the couch?”

“…no… I don’t think so.”

He tears up at the idea you’re not completely upset with him, enough to sleep next to him in the same house. “What can I do to make you feel more comfortable?” He chews at his swollen lip, “I want to help you be comfortable around me again. Please.”

You gnaw at your lip as you process his words, and with a small shake of your head, you slowly, almost so slowly he doesn’t see it, slink towards him, resting your head on his chest and wrapping your arms around his waist. When his arms loosely slither around your waist, you tighten, but you don’t stop him.

It feels foreign, but so right at the same time. His swirling head is finally stilled. The demons stop their bark as you bury your face in his chest, sniffling softy in the fabric.

“Last time you left,” you begin. “You came home with a black eye from Miya. I’d hate to see what happens if you come home from Bokuto’s.”

“Okay, hold on, it was not from Miya.”

The change in tone has you laughing in his arms, and he tries to keep cool and not immediately pull you into a spine crushing hug that’ll spook you away from him again. He can’t help himself though, from rubbing his face against you and taking inhales of your scent, the shrieking and howling in his mind finally going quiet at the contact of you.

“Kiyoomi?”

“Yeah?”

“You ever talk to me like that again, I’ll give you another black eye.”

He chuckles and does, finally, squeeze you tighter, “I don’t blame you for a second.”

#WHEEEEEEEEEEEE #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa kiyoomi angst #sakusa kiyoomi fluff #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x gn!reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader angst #sakusa kiyoomi x reader fluff #sakusa kiyoomi imagine #sakusa kiyoomi haikyuu #sakusa #sakuss fluff #sakusa angst #sakusa x reader #sakusa x reader fluff #sakusa x reader angst #sakusa x gn!reader #sakusa imagine #sakusa haikyuu #haikyuu #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu angst #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x gn!reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x yn #haikyuu x y/n #angst to comfort #angst to fluff

[magics-neptunes-things]

Calm After Storm

Hi guys!

It was way too long since I didn't write for Leah, so here is a sweet little thing.

I'm so happy Arsenal won yesterday, even if I almost cry three times and had two hearts attacks. And of course I think about Frida, hopping she's ok :(

TW : Lover fight, Angst.

______________________________________________________________

Leah is intense. Always have, always been and that’s how you love her. You love how much she can be passionate about everything she’s doing. You love her love for football, for her family, for her friends. She is always here to help her relatives for everything. She’s here for her grandmother when she needs help for groceries, she’s here when her mother can’t walk their dog, she’s here to get her brother to the airport at 8 in the morning even if she played a game the night before, she’s here to support her teammates through injuries.

She’s everywhere she can be, at every time.

You, in another hand, you’re calmer. You’re a little shy and need some time to observe the people you don’t know before opening up. You are as affectionate and attentive to your loved one than Leah, but in a more discreet way.

Those differences are the meanly reasons of why you didn’t understand at first why Leah seems interested in you. You met her thanks to your friend Lotte and Leah took the time to talk to you every time you came to watch Lotte plays. When Leah did her ACL, she attends almost every game, and you talk a lot during this time. That’s where she asks you out for the first time, after having asking Lotte if you are into girls.

You said yes, obviously.

If you didn’t think that Leah must be interested in you, you were deeply charmed by the personality of the blonde. She’s funny, intelligent, great to talk to and you have a lot in common. And yes, you must admit that you find her unbelievably attractive. Like almost half of the population but hey, you’re just a girl.

Leah kissed you at your second date. She asks you at the fourth to be her girlfriend and introduce you to her family after six months of dating. Of course, they already have known about you. And you knew them thanks to the Arsenal VIP room. But it was the first official diner with the Williamson and relatives.

You are not living together for now, but you find yourself a lot at each other’s house. You love being at Leah’s, everything smells like her. But she loves being at your house too. At Christmas, Leah gave you the keys of her house and you gave her the keys of your flat.

You love her, a lot. And you know that she loves you back, even if those precious words were never pronounced to each other. At least you both know that you care for each other. A lot.

That doesn’t mean you never fight, to be honest. Not later than yesterday, you had a really stupid argument about something really stupid. But with Leah’s stress about football and her comeback and your proper tiredness thanks to your job, it was sometimes happening. Some means words were exchanged, and Leah ended up leaving your flat, slamming your door.

Stubbornly, you decided not to write to her. In your opinion, she was wrong, and it was even more wrong to leave the way she did. You were hurt a little bit too, by the argument and after by the fact that Leah didn’t call you or at least send you a message. Not the same night, not the day after.

Almost two days later, you still didn’t have talk to each other. You ask casually to Lotte how Leah is doing when you have her on the phone. But your cousin answers that she was Switzerland in your love life and that she didn’t want to be involved in anything. Unless it’s for marriage or children. So, basically, you don’t know how Leah is today.

You saw the video and the pictures posted by Arsenal’s admin on Instagram, but that’s all. You choose not to go to the game, not sure that Leah wants you here. It’s an important game though, so you decide to watch it on TV. Leah’s starting and it’s strange to see your girlfriend’s face on your TV screen. She’s focused, her glare well fixed on her face. Her blue eyes are piercing her opponents.

But that doesn’t help Arsenal to win today. It wasn’t a big loss, but it was a loss anyway. Leah seems particularly sad, and you feel your heart cracks. So, you decided to jump in a jean, in your car and to go to Arsenal’s stadium. Leah gave you a pass to access to the parking lot, so you just use it to get in it.

You know that Leah went to the game with Beth, so you’re not surprised not to see her car. But, when you get out from yours, you can’t help but feel a little bit uncomfortable. What if Leah doesn’t want you here? Maybe your idea wasn’t as good as you thought at first. You almost decided to leave when Leah passes the door.

She’s looking at the ground, not listening to Beth or Laia Codina who are walking with her. The other blond spots you first and elbows Leah who looks at her. Beth then points in your direction and when Leah spots you too, she seems as surprised as she is relieved.

You don’t move, only waving shyly at her. She gives you a little smile in return, turning into Beth to says her something. You don’t know what it is, but Beth rolls her eyes and push Leah in her direction with her hand before mimic a kick in the ass.

“Hello” you say softly when Leah is next to you.

“Hi” breaths Leah.

You reach out to take her bag, putting it on the back seat of your car. Then you went to opens Leah’s door, but you cross her eyes, and she seems so upset that you can’t do nothing against that. So, you reach out to her again, so that she can grasp it this time. And, when Leah almost jumps on your hand, you take her delicately against you. She hugs you back, putting her face in your neck almost immediately.

“You played good” you whisper after some seconds.

“You weren’t here to watch” Leah objects, her face still in your neck.

“I watched you on TV.”

At your explanation, Leah pushes herself even more against you and you tighten your arms against her. No one like to lose obviously, but you’ve never seen someone with such an ability to take all the blame on themselves. You know that tomorrow, Leah would pass half of her day watching the game, analyzing her mistakes and noting them in her notebook. You hate that damn notebook.

“You still watched me?”

You can’t help but smile, hearing how small your girlfriend is when asks you that question. Leah Williamson, captain of England and Euro champion looks like a little girl right now. No one ever saw this part of Leah, or her mother only maybe. But you do.

“Of course.”

You could have tease her and answering that you wanted to watch Katie, but it wasn’t really the good timing. Leah takes a deep breath and release you, looking attentively at your face before trying another smile. You smile back and stroke her hair before nodding at your car.

“Can I take you home?”

“I’d love to.”

You don’t really talk during the journey to your house, but Leah captures your hand in hers almost immediately. She strokes your fingers and plays with your ring all along, looking out by the window. You let her, knowing with time that she needs some quiet sometimes to figuring things out.

When you get out of your car, you take Leah’s bag with one hand, your girlfriend’s hand with the other and go to the ascensor. In it, you can smell Leah’s shampoo and that’s make you smile. The blonde surprise your smile in the mirror of the ascensor and you just shrug. She doesn’t have the time to question you though, the doors opening just after.

“Do you want to order pizzas? Or I can go to Tesco to take you a ham sandwich if you prefer?”

“Nah, pizza is good Babe. Don’t worry”

You let Leah orders your diner, using this time to wash her dirty laundry before heading back to the living room. Leah had made herself comfortable, lying on your couch. But she stands when she spots you, making you frown.

“We need to talk. About our fight.”

You feel your face fall, hopping to never discuss your fight again. You hate fighting with Leah, and you hate the way you feel after. You were hopping that you can have like a silence contract to forget it. Plus, the We need to talk sentence is never really good. But Leah seems to understand really fast what’s happening in your head, because she takes your hand when she sits down on the couch again, taking you with her. You are almost sitting on her lap when she talks again.

“I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am. I don’t even remember why the fight start, but I shouldn’t have left like that. It was childish and I’m really sorry. Are you still angry with me?”

You shook your head negatively, relieved to learn that Leah doesn’t want to break up or something like that.

“No, I’m not. To be honest, the same night I was more sad to sleep without you than angry.”

“Why didn’t write me?” Leah asks with curiosity.

“I wasn’t sure you’d answer me and I was afraid I’d be even sadder.”

Leah sighs softly, stroking your back. Her eyes are looking at you with intensity and you bite unconsciously your lip.

“Do you want to know a secret?” Leah asks you soon after.

You nod, taking advantage of your position to cuddle against her. Leah puts her chin on top of your head, and you can hear her heart when she talks again.

“I was sad too. I was hopping you will come to the game but when I didn’t see you, I realize how much I fucked up. And after the game, all I was thinking is that I will have to deal with the loss all alone. Almost everyone was going home to their partner and mine was probably angry at me. I just wanted to go home and hide under the cover. When I saw you in the parking lot, I was thinking of the best way to apologize and get you back. I knew it was my fault, but it didn’t ease the sadness of it, it was even worse I think.”

“Don’t say that” you mumble “It was my fault too. We were both arguing.”

Leah hums and you look up at her before kissing her cheek. It was nice to know how much your presence means to Leah whether it’s during the games or at home. You love being here for her obviously.

“But we’re good now, right?”

Leah smiles, with her real smile and you feel your heart fluttered.

“We’re good, my girl.”

Then you kiss her for the first time since the fight and you get lost in your embrace. The kiss is sweet, tender and you feel like floating somewhere above the ground. Maybe your exchange will change in something more passionate if your pizzas weren’t already here.

You eat them in front of the TV, but still cuddling against each other. Leah finishes her pizza first and takes you more against her soon after. She kisses your cheek several times, not really interested in the movie she picks before. When you feel teeth against the skin of your neck, you decide to forget your meal to roll on your girlfriend.

Leah smirks, happy to have all your attention and catch your lips in an intense kiss. You whimper, surprise by the intensity of it but didn’t waist time to answer it.

“Thanks for coming for me tonight.”

Leah whispers it way later, when you were under the cover of your bed, almost asleep. The pizzas were eaten, you forgot the movie to better activities and after that you took a hot bath.

 Leah’s body is warm against yours and you hum at first for only answer.

“My pleasure” you mumble, half-hiding your face in her.

You yawn and Leah start scratching your neck, just like she knows you like. You only need thirty seconds to fall asleep after that. Leah needs a little more time, but she watches you sleep to pass time. She knows she’s lucky to have you and she swears to herself not to leave you angry anymore.

#woso imagine #woso x reader #woso fanfics #leah williamson #woso one shot #leah williamson x you #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson x reader

[skipper1331]

Communication is key // Alexia Putellas

Without thinking, you called Alexia, feeling frustrated and disappointed about her behavior.

"Hello amor"

"Were you at the beach with the girls yesterday?"

Since weeks you had been asking if she wanted to hangout and go to be beach, just for some time away from football.

"Yes, why?" she replied, confused.

"I don’t want to fight, but I’m asking since 2 weeks if you want to go to the beach with me and you tell me you‘re busy each time and now you went out with the other girls? To the beach? Even though, you know I’ve been asking…You didn‘t ask if I wanted to join you guys" you said, upset about the fact that Alexia acted that way and that you got so carried away as to even bring it up.

"Eh- um…" the midfielder was silent for a moment, thinking about how to phrase it as kindly as possible "the problem is that Mapi has a problem with you and that’s why we decided as a group that you can‘t join. It wouldn’t end well"

"We‘re a friend group of 5 people…? If she has a problem she should talk to me privately."

The friends group consisted of Mapi, Ingrid, Frido, Ale and yourself.

"Yeah.."

"So, I’m no longer part of the group when Mapi is there? That‘s so nice, Alexia, thanks!" your voice was laced with sarcasm and anger.

Of all people, you at least thought Alexia would defend or support you - you were her girlfriend.

"What do you want to hear from me? The girls asked and I wanted to do something as a group so I went along. And if they exclude you, there's nothing I can do about it. Just chill out, we'll catch up on it at some point."

The betrayal and hurt you felt in that moment, was unreal - how could she say something like that? She was the person who had asked you out a dozens of times with puppy dog eyes. She was the one who begged for your kisses and love. And she was the one who wanted to spend every second of the day with you, no matter what plans either of you had.

Why was she acting so cold and rude now?

"You know what? If you want to hangout with me, then feel free to text me, but I won‘t be running after you, just to get rejected every time, even though you apparently have the time but just don't want to when it’s with me, your girlfriend! So, text me if you want to do something that isn’t having sex, otherwise we'll see each other in training."

With that you ended the call.

Did your friend group really decided that? It didn‘t seem to make any sense. And was even the problem with Mapi? The two of you were friends, never any problem between the two of you. But more importantly: what was the matter with Alexia? Why was she acting weird and distant? Have you done something wrong?

Normally, both of you were all over each other, holding hands, kissing in the storage room or even just an arm around your waist - spending almost 24/7 together. What was happening?

You declined every call that came in after, the caller id always the same.

reina 👑

amor, por favor.

call me back

lo siento

Caught up in your anger, you started to deep clean your apartment, not being bothered to call her back or even reply. The cleaning relaxed you but it also got you thinking. Was Alexia acting like this because she wanted to break up with you? Did she realize that you weren’t worth her time, attention and love? You always had a feeling that Alexia would break up with you at some point, many pretty girls in the world that would die to even just meet Alexia, let alone be loved by her.

That night you went to bed feeling very queasy and stressed - was she really about to break with you? She had texted you multiple times as she also had tried to call you but you didn’t answer.

The next day, you went to training acting as usually but with one exception - you avoided Ale and the rest of your friend group.

You did partner drills with Patri, talked in water breaks with Lucy and ate lunch with Aitana, Keira and Caro.

It was usual that you socialized with other people than your friend group but the unusual part was that Alexia didn‘t follow you around like a lost puppy. Instead she sent longing looks towards you, sad smiles displaying in her face when you dodged her glances as she tried to act tough and unbothered by your ignorance.

"What have you done?" a thick English accent asked the midfielder who was walking towards the changing room.

"Maybe I handled things a bit wrong" she explained, not wanting to reveal too much - a little bit scared of the Lucy Bronze as she had gotten the shovel talk from her when she started dating you.

'If you hurt her, I will haunt and hurt you' Lucy had told the Barcelona captain.

That day, Alexia promised Lucy and herself to never hurt you - not that she intended to anyways.

"You better make up with her otherwise I will have to hurt you" the defender smiled, entering the locker and walking to her cubby.

Alexia was quick to take a shower and get ready, waiting for you in front of the facility. She knew you hadn‘t left yet as you had entered the changing room when she came out of the shower.

She indeed wanted to make up with you, the whole situation a misunderstanding.

When you walked out of the facility, she called after you, "Amor, ¡esperar!" grabbing your hand, stopping you on your short journey to the car, "can we talk?" her voice was gentle and caring.

"Do you want to break up with me?" you asked straight forward, stepping back, trying to protect yourself with the distance yet you knew it wouldn’t help from a potential heart break.

"No no, amor, no. Let me pick you up at 7, okay? I‘ll explain everything"

You thought about it, unsure what to do.

"Okay"

It was Alexia after all, the person who was always honest. If she wanted to explain something, she would.

"Thank you, amor" she pressed a kiss to your cheek, walking you to your car, "be safe" she said as watched you, pull out of the parking lot, feeling so much better now that she had talked to you, even if it was just a few sentences - now that you had smiled at her.

-

5 minutes early, she rang your door bell, shuffling with her feet and fidgeting with her hands - she was nervous.

"Come in" you greeted her, "just need to put on my shoes then we can go"

The midfielder nodded, shyly entering your home as if she hadn‘t been here before.

"You look very beautiful, like always" she smiled, cheeks slowly turning red. Alexia felt like as if it was your first date all over again. She still remembered how shy and nervous she was, wanting to do everything perfect, so you‘d like her and she could ask you on another date. Also she had said the exact same thing when she picked you up for your first date.

"Reminds me of something" you chuckled, as well thinking back to the night where she had taken you out.

"Sí, you‘re getting prettier every day that hasn‘t changed"

Alexia thought you were the prettiest girl in the world, you took her breath away every time she saw you - you were absolutely stunning.

"charmer" you giggled, cheeks a dark shade of red. In that moment, everything felt like it used to be. She wasn‘t acting distant or weird, she was acting like the girl you fell in love with.

Everything is going to be okay.

"Amor, may I?" she asked politely, offering her arm as you had put on your shoes. Wordlessly, you linked your arms, walking towards her car. She opened the door for you, hurriedly rushing over to her side before she started the engine and rested her hand on your thigh. She was glad when you didn‘t push her off - you had missed her touch all day.

The two of you stayed in silence, your favourite songs playing as she drove to her destination. With every metre you got closer, she became more nervous and anxious. She knew she had some explaining to do but also was about to ask you an important question - which was the reason she even had to explain things. She wouldn‘t let a misunderstanding fuck things up with you. She wanted to marry you in the future - your relationship was very serious to her.

(Also she did not wanted to get haunted by a certain scary English defender.)

-

"Why are we at the beach?" you asked, the ocean right in front of you.

"Do you trust me?" the Barcelona player questioned, avoiding your question - she would explain in a moment, you just had to wait and trust her.

"I‘m not quite sure?" Ale raised an eyebrow, "fine, I trust you"

The girl smiled widely, stepping behind you and covering your eyes with her hands, "are you about to murder me?" you joked, knowing damn well that Alexia wouldn‘t dream of letting you fall or hurt yourself in any kind of way.

"Keep walking, amor"

-

After a short walk in the sand, the woman stopped, slowly revealing the sight in front of you.

There was a large picnic blanket, cushions and basket, wine and two glasses standing next to it - it looked romantic.

"Ale- what‘s all of this?" you asked confused, already emotionally touched by the gesture.

She sat down, making herself comfortable before she tapped between her legs, "come here"

Sitting in between her legs, staring towards the ocean and the beautiful sunset while she purred two glasses of wine.

"This is wow" you muttered, not yet leaning into her body as you were still moody at her but still admiring the work and view. It was indeed very romantic, rose petals and candles decorated everything around the two of you.

"I‘m sorry for avoiding you" Alexia started, loosely wrapping her free arm around your midsection, "i didn‘t mean to act weird. I was here with the girls to practice this- they helped me to set everything up and encouraged me for what I’m about to do. Ingrid decorated, Frido made the snacks and well, Mapi carried everything while I was freaking out at home because I didn’t know what to wear. I‘m sorry for letting you think i want to break with you or for acting weird, i was just really nervous these past weeks" she put her wine glass down in the sand, making sure it wouldn‘t fall before she pulled something out of her pocket, "I’m always nervous when I’m around you but this time it was different. I was scared of getting rejected and in return, I rejected you without even realizing."

Hidden in her hand, she gave you her little 'present' - a key.

"I would like you to move in with me." she breathed out, her heart racing.

You turned in her hold, looking at her with wide eyes.

"You‘re sleeping at my apartment almost every day and i can barely sleep without you being in my arms, so i thought maybe you would like stay at my place every night from now on" she rambled, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt.

The widest grin broke out on your face and you kissed her - you had been wanting to bring up the topic since awhile now, yet always feeling too shy to do so as you knew Alexia loved her personal space and alone time. You didn’t want her to feel pressured or to feel like she had to agree.

But now you’re even happier that the idea and suggestion came from her - she wanted this too - she was ready for the next step.

"I’d love to" you answered, kissing her rapidly as she giggled while you did so.

"I‘m glad" she sighed in relief, puckering her lips once again.

More kisses, please

You happily accepted the key.

The key wasn’t just any key, it symbolized that it was the key to her heart and home, that communication was the key to happiness, and that her nervousness couldn't always open all doors - which she had realized now;

Spending the whole at training without you was horrible. She never wanted to experience that again.

-

As your little picnic date continued (both of you back at being sickeningly in love with each other) the sun almost down completely, a question popped up in your head, "Mapi doesn’t have a problem with me, does she?"

A loud hearty laugh escaped your girlfriend, "no, amor, you‘re perfect. When you called me the girls were with me and I panicked and Mapi was signing something, so that‘s what came to my mind with her wild gestures. I‘m sorry if it sounded rude. Everybody loves you and you are very much a part of the group, my favourite member in fact"

Weirdly, you could imagine Mapi way too well and Alexia never lied to you. Added to that she was a horrible liar, her brows slightly raising when she lied or was trying to.

You believed and trusted her. It all made sense now - you remember how nervous she was when she asked you out on a date, you remember how nervous she was when she actually took you out, also how nervous she was when she asked the girlfriend question and how nervous she was just today.

You could only imagine how nervous she would be if she ever decided to ask you to be her wife.

Which Alexia definitely would do.

She would always be nervous around you, it‘s you - you‘re way too perfect for this world, so Ale had every right to be nervous every day anew - you were the key to all her happiness.

#alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso #woso imagine #woso image x reader #fc barcelona femeni #barcelona femeni x reader #fc barcelona women #barcelona women #barcelona femeni #barca women #barca femeni #barca femini x reader #barça femeni #espwnt #espwnt x reader #ingrid engen #fridolina rolfö #maria leon

[totalswag]

can i request rafe x fwb reader where reader finds out hes dating sofia and she goes to confront him that he didnt even have the decency to let her know their arrangement was over and he says "who said it was over?''

stuck in the middle - RAFE CAMERON

authors note as you guys may notice i'm finally publishing requests that you guys sent me. super sorry this was very late to publish. i hope you like what i wrote and it was what you hoped. so, thank you for sending this requests.

requests are still open so feel free to send them my way and i will get to them and put them into my docs :) if you click on the bold red ink it will take you to my ask box lovies!!!

summary you find out through people and social media sofia and rafe are together. you go to confront rafe about this since he never thought to tell you that your arrangement was over.

warnings friends with benefits, mentions of sex, cursing

Lately, you've been having this weird gut feeling in your stomach. No idea what the meaning behind it means but you want to find out what it could be. You started feeling this way whenever you were with Rafe on a random Wednesday.

Rafe and you have been friends with benefits for about three months now. When you two came to this agreement, you agreed that it was solely for your sexual pleasures and not to establish feelings for each other, and that the most important thing was to let each other know if one of you became serious with someone else so that the bargain could be broken off.

You overheard a rumor at a party this past Friday about Rafe and Sofia being together for a month. You couldn't believe your ears and wanted to vomit. Sofia works at the island's country club, and Rafe visits it from time to time.

The next day, you decided to do some research to be sure this was accurate. Even as you looked at her Instagram, the emotion returned. You checked her story highlights and discovered what you were looking for. Your stomach sank.

She had a couple pictures on her highlights that you knew were of Rafe, including one with his right hand on her thigh in his car and another with his back to her as he looks out into the distance. Based on what you discovered, they appeared serious.

What made you upset was the fact Rafe and you have been seeing each other for three months which meant he'd been with Sofia for who knows how long before he asked her to be his girlfriend.

"Why didn't he tell me?" You asked yourself, setting down your phone and running your hands through your hair, upset that you found out at random person at a party.

There's a part of you that doesn't want Rafe to be with Sofia. There's a part of you that wants him all to yourself. Regardless, he should've told you the arrangement was over.

That was the deal.

After thinking about what you should do, you decide you are confronting Rafe about this, tonight. You are gonna make it seem like you want to hookup but really you are telling him what you found out.

you- are you busy tonight? i wanna see you

rafe- funny you say that because i wanna see you too

rafe- meet me at the spot at 9pm.

"I'll be back in an hour or so," you tell your mom as you go past the living room, holding your keys. "I'm going to hang out with Samantha."

"That's fine, sweetie; please stay safe tonight, I love you," your mother adds, smiling.

When you get to the spot you see Rafe sitting in his car on his phone. You parked your car next to him so he knows it's you- when he sees you get out, he unlocks the car.

You sigh casually as you sit in the passenger seat.

Rafe says smiling "Hey pretty girl" in a tone that makes you weak in the knees, leaning over the center console to kiss you but you pull back.

"We need to have a little chat, Rafe," maintaining eye contact.

His smile fades, and he looks at you, puzzled, "What do you mean?" His response indicated that he was nervous or knew what was going to happen.

"Why didn't you tell me you and Sofia were together, Rafe? You never once said to my face, "Y/N, we can no longer meet up like this anymore because I have a girlfriend now," mimicking Rafe's voice, "we've been hooking up this entire time while you've been in this relationship that I had no idea about until I heard someone talking about it," you explain frustratedly in your voice and expressions.

In the midst of your rant towards him, he places his hand over his lips, chuckles, shakes his head, and looks down at his lap.

"Why the fuck are you laughing?" You ask, folding your arms, leaning back against the passenger door, annoyed.

He glances up from his lap, licks his bottom lip, and smirks: "Who said it was over?"

Before you could respond his lips were already on yours.

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[warnersister]

Personal Space (two Bradshaws like it now)

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: A sequel in which you love your personal space. Unfortunately, Bradley also loves your personal space. Even more so now you’ve had a baby, apparently.

Can be read as a part 2, but doesn’t have to be. Read Personal Space here

You really didn’t know when it all happened, when you and Bradley became a thing. At first he was just an annoying crew member you couldn’t shake off your tail. Then he was your wingman. Then you got accidentally placed into marriage accommodation and the two of you played it off so you could get better housing. Then you actually bought a house. And then somewhere along the way you got married.

“Where shall we have the wedding?” Bradley asked and you raised a brow “register office” you shrug “what you don’t want a wedding?” He asks, hand on his chest as he feigns offence. “You do?” You ask and he nods vigorously. You huff. “Fine” “so shall we do it on the beach?” He asks “okay” you just go along with it, hardly even entertaining the idea at all.

“So? What do you think?” Nat asks as she makes you pivot in a white gown “I think I look like a roll of toilet paper” you said, crossing your arms “maybe it’s just not the dress for you?” She reasons and you shake your head “just not really into the whole idea of this wedding. I kinda thought we’d just sign papers and get on with it” you said “well you picked Bradshaw, he’s a drama queen at the best of times” she says and you him in agreement; your consultant leading you back to the fitting rooms “let’s try another”.

You’d left with a sleeved dress; hating the idea of having a low cut dress, and begging Nat to just let you leave. Sure, you loved the dress - but you loved the idea of getting out of that suffocating shop more.

“Hey honey” Bradley had said, hearing you walk into the house and set your keys on the kitchen counter. “Hi” you reply shortly, moving to fill your cup with water from the sink. “How was your day?” He asked, moving to rest his head on your shoulder and holding you from behind. “Good. Bought a wedding dress” you say simply “you did what?!”

Then on your wedding day, you’d stared at yourself in the mirror far too long. “You look gorgeous” Penny whispers, squeezing your shoulders comfortingly “I look like a fucking pin up doll” you huff, not necessarily believing yourself - just not used to being such a central perspective of attention. “Wow” your dad says, walking into the room “you look gorgeous” he whispers “is there an echo in here?” You mumble, but smile at him “thank you” you say, wiping the tears from under his eyes. “C’mon, Bradley’s nearly about to come get you himself”

You showed up to the beach-front wedding right on time, completely dead against the idea of being in any way, shape, or form late. Your father gave you away, Bradley in floods of tears at the end of the isle by the time you’d gotten there. “You look incredible” he whispers, lips quivering as he stares at you “shut up you’re going to make me cry.” You grumble, but smile. “It’s okay to cry.” He says, as the ceremony begins. “You may now kiss your bride” and Bradley dipped you and kissed you sweetly, drowning out the cheers of those around you. “I love you, Bradshaw.” You say, smally, “I love you more, sweetheart” he says and kisses your forehead “you’re crying” he points out “shut up”

And then you looked at the two lines on the pregnancy test two years later. You hummed “okay” and looked at yourself in the mirror, knowing nothing else other than the fact that you had to tell Bradley right that second. You marched downstairs, where he was sat playing with some keys on the piano you’d bought him last Christmas, stopping next to him. “Hey baby, y’alright?” He asked, and you just held out the stick to him. “What’s this?” He asks, taking it from you and looking over it once. “You serious?” He asked, looking at you; smile growing from ear to ear “you’re pregnant?” He almost whispers “unless the other four lied.” you say and he jumps up and pulls you into his arms, kissing all over your face until you shouted at him to stop.

He knelt down and looked at your stomach, kissing it gently then moving to put his ear against it “uh huh” he hummed “Bradley what are you-” “shush I’m talking to em” he says and you stand, unimpressed, but let him nonetheless. “Oh yeah baby, I’m excited to meet you too” he coos “yeah, yeah, I’m your dad” and you audibly giggle. He looks up at you, eyes wide “you done?” You ask and he nods “yeah little one was done talking” he smiles, and hugs you close again. “I need to get the baby clothes out of the attic” he mumbles, kissing your temple “the what?” You ask “I bought them when we started renting the house!” He says, dragging you excitedly up the stairs “but we own the house, Brad” you him “no, no, the one we had during the mission!” He says and you gasp internally, realising how long the two of you had been together without even noticing it.

“Hey dad” you say, as you and Bradley head into the hangar he and you owned “hey honey, hey Brad” your dad greets, wiping the oil from his hands to come over and talk to the two of you. He kissed your forehead and hugged you, then your husband before walking back over to the aircraft he was working on. “Thought you needed a new picture for your pinboard” you hum “oh? I just added the wedding photo!” He says, excitedly, showing you the filled gap. “Okay, guess you don’t want the sonogram of your grandchild.” You say, turning to head out before Bradley hurriedly grabbed you and turned you back into the situation, pulling the strip of photos from his breast pocket. Your dad stood with his jaw wide open “you’re-” he breathes “you’re really pregnant?” He asks as his eyes well with tears “well I wouldn’t lie-” you say but he just pulls you into a big bear hug, pinning Baby Bradshaw’s picture onto his board.

You head to go look at the part of the engine your dad couldn’t quite fix while Bradley held back with Maverick. He turns to him and shakes his hand “your dad would’ve been so proud.” He says, smiling at Bradley “I know you are.” Rooster smiles, wordlessly being pulled into a hug with his father-in-law.

Then one evening you were sat up in bed, Bradley sound asleep beside you as you look down at the barely visible bump. Bradley had sort of a sixth sense, somehow knowing you weren’t asleep beside him. “Hey, baby what’s up?” He croaks, immediately moving to sit up with you when he sees his senses were correct. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, Bradley.” You say, staring ahead at the wall “what do you mean?” He asks, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “I mean I’m a fighter pilot, I was raised by a single father, I never had that maternal instinct, what am I doing?” You whisper, and when Bradley managed to finally pull your face towards him you were crying “oh sweetheart” he hums, pulling you into him gently “you’re gonna be the best momma ever, and the fact that you worry proves that. I love you, okay?” He comforts “I know. I love you too.”

You were stubborn the whole pregnancy. You thought it was ridiculous that people just stopped when they were pregnant, and Bradley was trailing you trying anything to get you to just relax. “Hen, please!” He begs as you head out for your morning run “I’m three months pregnant, Bradley. I’m not incompetent.” You snap, as he begrudgingly pulls on his running shoes and follows you out the door. He pulled you back anytime you went quicker than a 10 minute mile “Bradley, if you slow me down one more time I’m going to pull your arm out of your socket” you snap and he holds his hands up “message received.”

Then one day, at around the sixth month mark you walked into the house and slammed the door so hard it rattled. “What’s up?” Bradley asked, as you practically threw your stuff on the floor. “They’re putting me on the desk.” You grumble, anger evident in your eyes while his soften “oh baby we knew that was gonna happen” he soothes, rubbing your arm reassuringly “no! No we didn’t! I was perfectly fine hiding the bump, but no!” You huff “I’m Bradley Bradshaw and all of California has to know my wife’s pregnant!” You imitate him but he just smirks “oh I’m so sorry that everyone needs to know you’re taken and carrying my baby” he says, smugly. “Don’t you smile at me Bradley-” you wag an accusatory finger at him, but he heaves you over his shoulder, and towards the stairs “c’mon, let’s help you blow off some steam” he reasons “y’know it’s possible to get pregnant while pregnant, right?” You ask and he cheers “woohoo! Two for one deal, sounds great!” He says and you can’t help but smile.

Then came your maternity leave, Bradley picked you up in his bronco. You were quick to head outside, and he kinda hated how well you hid the bump. “I’m done.” You huff, settling into the seat beside him “if that bitch from accounting asks me one more time if I want her herbal teas I’m going to knock her teeth out” you complain and Bradley chuckles “well, just me, you and Baby Bradshaw now” he says and you hum in agreement.

But when you approached your street, you rolled straight past your house and straight to the Hard Deck ‘congratulations on your baby’ banners plastered all over “welcome to our baby shower!” Bradley grins as you pull up “is this really necessary? They aren’t even here yet.” You tell him and he shrugs “thought it might take your mind off maternity leave” you smile at him “thanks, Brad”

And at one point in the evening, you sat Natasha and Bob down separately. “Hey Phoenix, can we borrow you?” Brad asked, pulling her away from her conversation “yeah of course guys!” You took a seat at a table and Bradley forced you to elevate your feet against your will. “What’s up?” She asks “how’d you like to be godmother to little Bradshaw?” Her eyes lit up when Bradley asked and she leant over the table to hug the two of you “oh I’d love too!” She announces, excitedly.

Then you head over to Bob, but Phoenix holds Rooster back “they have a special connection, let her do this”. You sit on the stool next to Bob and he offers you some peanuts which you refuse, and you stay sat in silence for a minute. “Bob can I ask you something?” You ask, as he pulls your calves up to rest in his lap “of course, hen” he says, brushing some crumbs off his top “what’s up?” “Well, the job we’re in isn’t an old job” you say and he laughs and agrees “it’s also dangerous” you say, and again - he nods. “So if anything happens to me and Brad, can you be there for little Bradshaw?” His eyes widen and start to swell with tears “will you be our godfather?” You ask and he nods, moving to miss your cheek “of course I will, hen. I’d be honoured.”

Bradley and you had started putting together your hospital bag at the 8 month mark. You were both premature so had a bit of superstition, especially with only being a few weeks off of the 40 mark. You’d placed the bag by the front door, along with a baby carrier in the middle seat of his Bronco.

It was week 38 when you were both putting together the crib beside your bed, two spare bedrooms and still you only wanted your baby beside you. “Okay all done, baby” your husband said “okay. My water broke three minutes ago” you say as calmly as he had, he nods, then whips his head back round “your water broke?” He asks and looks down, and indeed, your water had broken “oh my god your water broke?!” He announced, picking you up bridal style and carrying you out to the bronco, picking the hospital bag up on the way. “Ready to have a baby?” He asks, giddily. “Am I supposed to be?” You ask and he shakes his head with a smile “no”

You were dead silent during birth and it scared the shit out of Bradley. “Do you want an epidural, honey? They’ve offered-” “no.” “Can I get you more ice?” “No.” And he tried everything, even when it was time to push. You held his hand and your mouth was zipped shut. “Is she supposed to be this quiet?” He asked the doctor who just looked at him nonchalantly “it’s normal, all mothers react differently to birth” he said. “I’m a fighter pilot Bradley. I’ve had worse.” You grit. “Breathe baby” he tells you “I think you need to.” You say “stop being dramatic” you say as you push again “honey-” “either shut up or get out.” You tell him and he glues his mouth shut, at least until the baby comes.

Bradley cuts the chord and they hand you your baby, and your eyes widen as you stare at the baby on your chest “welcome to the world Nick Bradshaw” you coo at the baby and Bradley raised his brows “Nick?” He asks, voice cracking “what? Got a problem with that? You and your stupid dick” you grumble and Bradley laughs and shakes his head, kissing your forehead.

“Hey mom, shall we take baby so you can get some rest?” The nurse asked, leaning to take Nick from your arms “excuse me?” You asked, pulling your baby closer. “So you can sleep?” She suggests “I’ve carried him for nine months and now he’s here you’re taking him away?” You ask “well, some mothers like to sleep” “I can sleep when I’m dead.” You deadpan, and she realised that Nick wouldn’t have been pried from your hands even if you were dead, so she left you all alone.

“Taking you away from mommy? Who does she think she is?” You whisper to baby Nick. “Welcome back to the world, Bradshaw.” You say and Bradley can only smile and hold the two of you close.

You’re going to be just fine in this mommy role.

——————————

Part 2-ish? I know it was really well liked and I enjoyed writing it so hope you enjoy this one too!

-> @rosiahills22 here’s another one!

#masterlist #xreader #smut #fluff #warner sister #angst #requests #x you #imagine #top gun #top gun maverick x reader #top gun x reader #topgunmaverick #top gun fandom #top gun imagine #top gun 1986 #topgun #top gun maverick #rooster #Mitchell #Mitchell!reader #rooster x reader #Bradley #Bradshaw #Bradley Bradshaw #dad bradley x reader #bradley bradshaw x pregnant reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #Bradley rooster Bradshaw #bradly bradshaw x reader

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

Astarion Very Happy Ending

So full disclosure, my Tav was a Selunite, and I can't stop thinking well if Bhaal can have a mortal chosen one, why can't Selune?

Also, spoiler warning, stop reading here if you don't want, but like damn girl I freaking turn a Shar priestess away from her god back to you, free a man from his devil's contact, high-key save the world, kill bhaals chocen, convince my vampiric lover to not sacrifice thousands of people, stop an entire goblin army from murdering Tieflings and druids alike, and literally free your daughter. A reward is in order!

This is that reward:

Astarion was slowly getting used to living in the shadows again, as loathe as he was to admit it. It was quite the transition, despite the fact that his time in the sun had amounted to less than a year. But what a lovely year it was. Nearly a perfect one in comparison to the rest of his life. And the promise of more of the same was a suitable balm to being cursed back into the darkness.

It was difficult, but with the love of his life by his side it was more than tolerable. Borderline beautiful in fact, to be able to live his life so freely despite the infuriating complications.

The money also certainly helped.

That was one thing Astarion always had over his brothers and sisters, his fantasies of a better life had always surrounded around Cazador's murder. Not his approval. He may have been completely unaware of the horrifying dungeon beneath their feet, but he did know where the deed to his estate and other properties were kept. And now had enough connections with the higher up's of Baldur's gate for some frankly exquisite forgeries. It had been a particularly satisfying feeling to sell all of his former master's possessions off, even more so when it came to the land. Almost like he was tearing apart his legacy and handing it off to the highest bitter, piece by piece.

Though, being there with you to find and settle in your own little corner of paradise was an even better feeling. Maybe it didn't quite reach his past dreams of grandeur, but it turned out settling in a quaint and poorly lit townhouse in the upper city was more than enough for him to be satisfied.

It was a good charming life, one that Astarion was sure he didn't deserve. But that certainly wasn't going to stop him from enjoying it. Though as much as he adored where he ended up, he'd be lying if he said it was perfect.

No, perfect would have been finding a way for him to ascend without becoming a monster, living in a world where he could be with you fully, completely, out in the sun like the kind of lover you deserved. It made him feel... startlingly inadequate. Everything you did had to be in accordance to his schedule. His lack of capabilities. And just because you always insisted it didn't matter didn't fix the feeling of inadequacy. He hated it, hated the fact that there were so many hours of the day that you couldn't share. He didn't regret his choice, not for a moment, but that didn't mean he was fully satisfied with the consequences.

But in his own defense, he did make up for it in other ways. Mildly frustrating and draining ways, if not a bit rewarding. It had been his own fault, falling so utterly and completely for such a goody two-shoes. A zealot to Selune, as fierce as she was compassionate, always trying to do what was fair and just. Always dragging Astarion on for the ride of her cleric duties.

But he couldn't blame you for all of his new do-gooder ways. Not when he was nearly the leader of a bizarre cult of repentant vampire spawn.

It was just the slightest bit exhausting to so often be playing the part of their heroic leader, fighting all of his murderous instincts to work for a better future for himself and the brethren he had personally damned. Though he'd be lying if he said he didn't get any satisfaction from it. It felt... good to teach them new ways to live. To give them the chance at the beautiful life he had managed to secure for himself.

He wouldn't do it forever, just until he was confident enough to be sure that his departure wouldn't lead to a massacre on either side. Then the two of you would be off to explore the lands, working to do your goddesses work with just a touch of hedonistic activities on the way.

Astarion was looking forward to it. He hadn't done all that work to be selfless forever. No, he was going to be forced to insist on a few years of having you all to himself, with only the occasional bits of volunteer work for the temple as interruption. Then the two of you could go back to galivanting about the lands being local heroes. But he had earned an extended vacation.

One that, luckily, he hadn't had to fight you on too much. That was just one other thing he loved about you, your complete understanding that Astarion would always be a little selfish, especially when it came to you. The one person who had ever really been his, who loved him, who understood him, who believed in him. Could he be blamed for wanting to have you all to himself?

And admittedly, he did have you more often then not. Even if on occasion he did have to share with your beloved goddess.

Astarion sighed as he watched you pray in the moonlight, completely absorbed in your quiet, mystical chants. Despite his distaste for the length of your prayer sessions, Astarion did like seeing your more ritualistic side. Just... maybe not for the morally correct reasons.

He was well aware that being so involved with a vampire was clearly against your religious doctrine. But it didn't matter. You still choose him, despite how the knowledge nearly made you an outcast amongst your own kind. But he mattered more than your reputation, more than the lessons you had been taught your entire life regarding love and evil.

You still had your faith, but you never let it shake the faith you had in him, something that he valued more than he could ever express. It was perhaps a sick thought, but it also made him feel exceedingly powerful, to know the true extent of your feelings. Even more connected. It was almost... like he was defiling you, corrupting a beautiful flower to turn away from the sun to something even brighter. A love that Astarion doubted most could ever hope to feel.

Perhaps that was not the best outlook on your religion, but oh well. He'd keep those thoughts to himself. What you didn't know wouldn't kill you. Besides... if anyone had been corrupted it was him, plagued with a new sense of loyalty and gods, justice. All from the beautifully strange woman kneeling in the moonlight.

Though, you sure were taking awhile tonight. Nearly twice as long as your usual nightly prayer. He hated to interrupt your worship but this was starting to cut into his time a bit here.

"My dear," Astarion called out, swinging his legs over your shared bed to stand, "Don't you think that you've been kneeling there for a touch too long?"

But you didn't respond, still muttering under your breath, even faster than before.

Astarion narrowed his eyes as he walked closer towards you, confused by your lack of response, "Darling-Tav?"

Astarion stopped, eyes wide as he got a solid look at your first. Your eyes were wide open, body rim rod straight as your irises glowed a vibrant blue light.

What in the nine hells was happening? Astarion kneeled next to you, his heart in his throat as he shook your shoulders, "Tav, love, can you hear me? What is this?"

You didn't answer, you didn't even acknowledge his presence. But you did start floating in the god damn air. Astarion stared, helpless as he watched you levitate, words that he didn't understand spilling from your lips.

Then just as suddenly as it started, it stopped. You fell unceremoniously to the floor. Astarion scrambled towards you, his heart in his throat as you started to come to. He settled your head in his lap, his hands shaking as he touched your face, lost on what he should be doing.

You blinked your eyes open slowly, that angelic glow still radiating from your irises. But you didn't look frightened, more... excited.

You grinned up at him, your voice slightly cracking when you murmured, "We've been blessed."

Astarion stared at you, brow furrowed. He was happy you were alive and speaking but...

"That's lovely?" Astarion tried, "But severely lacking in terms of an explanation. Are you okay?"

You nodded eagerly, suddenly sitting up with an unexpected amount of energy, "I'll explain later, we don't have much time."

What was it that compelled you religious types to be so cryptic? But you didn't give him anytime to question. Instead you wrapping your arms around his neck and smashing your lips together, kissing him hard enough to take his breath away.

He wrapped strong arms around your back, pulling you in closer, always helpless but to return your affection. But something about this was different. He could feel it, holy magic spreading through him through your lips, down throughout his veins, changing something inside of him. It wasn't unpleasant per say, but it certainly was startling. Startling enough for him to almost push you away, if it wasn't for the fact that he trusted you with everything inside of himself.

Neither of you pulled away until the blue fire in your eyes had died out, and Astarion was left with the intense sensation that something had changed, irrevocably inside of him.

You stared at each other, Astarion in confusion while you looked nothing short of gleeful, "Do you feel it?"

He felt... strange. A warmth still spreading through him that was settling. Astarion raised a brow at you, exceedingly impatient when he asked, "First, how about you explain to me what in the hells that was?"

But you didn't answer. Instead you stood with an adorable hop, lending a hand out to help him up, "Do you trust me?"

Astarion almost rolled his eyes as he took your hand, annoyed that he fell for someone that had just as much of a flair for the dramatic as he did, "You know I do."

You helped him to his feet before you started to mumble again, a startlingly familiar incantation seeping from your lips. It was the spell for daylight, the very same that you had used to help defeat Cazador. The kind that could now kill Astarion in mere moments.

He was too shocked at your audacity to even protest, believing for a split, terrifying second that he was about to die a fiery death. Sunlight suddenly filled the room, bright enough for Astarion to tightly shut his eyes.

Then...nothing. No burning, no pain, nothing but the sounds of you both breathing.

That didn't-how was he-what did you just do?

Astarion stared at you, absolutely flabbergasted with his mouth hanging open, staring at the borrowed daylight like a simpleton, "But how?"

You were still grinning ear to ear, looking happier than Astarion had ever seen you before. You grasped his hands in yours, your smile gentle as you explained, "I told you. We were blessed. Our Lady of Silver gave me one gift, and this is what I choose."

If sunlight wasn't already staring him in the face, Astarion would never believe it. But here he was, alive and standing under it's warmth. A gift from a goddess, spent on him of all creatures.

"It can't fix everything," You clarified with the slightest frown, "But it can fix this."

He could feel the truth in your words. He was still... wrong. A creature born of something awful, doomed to eternity and a life of bloodlust. But part of that wrongness had been culled, curling up and dying from Selune's holy magic, from your enduring love.

It was a dream he never thought possible. One that he had accepted never having. But here he was, here you were, continuing to give him the impossible.

It was enough to bring tears to his eyes. Astarion reached up, cupping your face before confessing the truth he couldn't quell.

"I don't deserve you," He whispered, voice hoarse, "I'll never deserve you. Words can't express my thanks. You have given me everything, while I have nothing but myself to give in return. But it's always yours. Everything inside of me."

He meant every word, he always would. Until his last breath.

You shook your head, gentling cooing at him, "This is a time for celebration my love, not for doubt. You've earned this."

He hadn't. And he doubted you'd ever be able to convince him he had. But he'd still take it. Gladly.

"I love you," Astarion murmured, helpless to say anything else. He pressed his lips against yours, the gravity of his new life just starting to settle in his mind.

He was free, as free as he could ever hope for. You had achieved what Cazador could not, all without a hint of malice or horrifying sacrifice. But through kindness, love, and perseverance. You had already freed him once from his own mental shackles, his last remaining ties to the tyrant that made him.

And now you've done it again, saving him from at least a portion of the taint on his soul.

It was beautiful, wonderful, and Astarion would never waste a moment of it.

#astarion #astarion fic #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #baldur's gate 3 #spoilers #and that's how selune got herself a cult of 7000 vampiric spawn hoping for the same blessing #this is very fairytale romance #like mr. i'm not a fairytale prince is kind of acting like it here #or is he the saved princess? #up for debate #romance #very romantic #i think #fluff #very fluffy

[anadiasmount]

as time gets close - jude bellingham x reader.

quick sum: almost close to your due date, what is wrong with a late-night grocery trip with your very excited and anxiously waiting fiance?

wc: 1.8k | masterlist | jude's masterlist

psa 🗣️: a little dad! jude blurb bc we haven’t seen much of this on the timeline!! like always hope you enjoy 🤍

"why are you bending down? you know that is bad for you," you rolled your eyes at your fiance's scolding, grabbing the keys from the floor. "i dropped the keys by accident," you say as you pick the correct key that belonged to the lock. jude rubbed your belly, ensuring you were okay before helping you out to the car, the reusable bags tucked underneath his arm.

"did you bring the list?" you ask him seeing as he nods and pulls it out from the pockets of his hoodie. "i did. i also brought you some snacks because you didn't eat much after getting some nausea," you pouted your lips leaning up to peck his cheek thanking him. "what would i do without you?" you tease, a playful scoff falling from his lips.

"what makes you think you'd be without me? i'm attached to you for life remember?" he grabs your left hand kissing over your ring finger as he gives you a knowing look. you feel as he brings your intertwined hands to your belly, "and you're carrying my baby in there."

"really i couldn't tell," you say sarcastically.

"let's make it quick because my feet already hurt and i want to sleep," you advised letting out a tired yawn. despite being close to your due date, you still had some work to do before maternity leave. making calls to set meetings, attending them over zoom, filing paperwork, in charge of making sure the firm doesn't backfire, and planning some stuff out for your wedding.

jude had told you multiple times to take it easy, but placing that aside, he always helped you unconditionally. in the shower, when cooking, taking care of chores, before bed, and attending all your doctor's appointments. he was your personal midwife and wanted to take care of you the most he could.

you remembered to look on his face when you told him you were expecting, the tears on his face as he spoke to your barely bump all night and traced his hands on your belly. singing and humming lullabies and stories about his day. since then he wanted to protect you the best he could.

going to the grocery store at this time was nothing new, in fact, it became so prevalent now that you were pregnant because you craved everything. making jude do a late run to pick up your cravings or groceries for the upcoming weeks. the same store, at the same time.

you placed your purse on the cart, snuggling into your jacket as the cold air inside the store blew you away. you followed jude who picked out veggies and greens for his meal prepping, helping him tie the bags and weigh them on the digital scale that produced labels. you watched in awe as your boyfriend picked out three pairs of different flowers. "what are these for?" you asked, smelling the flowery scent.

"for the house. we need to replace the old ones that dried out," jude says with a shy grin. "you were the one who said plants and flowers bring a sense of home into our house, " jude recalled your words, kissing your temple, pushing the cart since it became a bit heavier. "i did say that didn't i? well i wasn't wrong," you shrug, wrapping a hand around his bicep as he trailed along isles to pick up the different items on the list.

he did all the heavy lifting as you reached and picked stuff up from your level, like spices and eggs. you turn your back for a few seconds to retrieve some milk and coffee beans for the morning, to see the cart filled with pop tarts and other salty snacks. "no no no," you shake your head, as jude whines out protests. "y/n we need them! they're even on sale!"

“jude, i don’t care! we just got some three days ago!,” you say laughing, putting back the box of pop tarts. “y/n i’m telling you right now, in a couple of hours or days you’re gonna have me running back here for them,” jude states following behind you.

“am not!” you quickly defend, bringing a hand to your aching back. “are too! last night you had me running out for cheetos. what’s it going to be today? kettled popcorn? or wingstop?” jude teased making you rolls your eyes and focusing back on to what needed to get done. “don’t forget we need to pick some of that acid reflex stuff for you, to get rid of the heartburn,” jude reminds you, taking the cart and walking out of the pop tarts isle, sneaking a box in for you.

“what’s left on the list?” you ask him, taking out a small snack you had in your purse and offering some to jude. “we need bananas, strawberries, orange juice, and meats for upcoming dinners…” jude reads the list one by one, using his index finger as he goes along.

you pass by an isle grabbing some cereal and granola for your yogurts and bowls. jude insisting he grabs his favorite too since you refuse to share from your part. as you wait by the deli section jude come behind you, grabbing your belly and relieving some of the pressure.

you immediately lay your head back on his shoulder sighing in relief, hearing jude chuckle and place a kiss on your head. “almost there darling,” he whispered running one of his hands along your tummy. “i know what you’re doing jude… and if this baby starts kicking right now i’ll leave you here,” you warn.

“i’m just trying to help you love. doesn’t it feel good?” he reprimanded as you nodded. “yes but not when she starts kicking, i swear she does it on purpose and it’s your fault. like she knows it you,” you said feeling your lower back less tense and heavy. "i kid you not, last night she almost made me pee from this hard kick!"

"sounds to me like we have a mini footballer coming into our lives," said jude continuing to hold your belly since you were tired and your baby was heavy. he had read the method online with other tips and tricks. jude got more into reading when he found out you were pregnant, wanting to know every effect and secret to ensure a healthy and safe pregnancy.

"let's hope not, i don't think i could handle cleaning up broken stuff around the house every day," you sigh, releasing yourself from his hold because you began to get hot. you didn’t understand how your body was so quick to adjust and then de-adjust from hot and cold, but it was so easy and it drove you mad sometimes.

“you okay?” jude softened his eyes as you let out a breath of despair, holding your hand and feeling a sit squeezed tightly against his. “yeah just got a mini cramp,” you held your back and practiced breathing methods you learned, “i’m good, i promise,” you kiss his hand before retrieving the meats from the butcher. "we'll get home soon, and i promise you a warm tea and massage okay?"

"did you want chocolate or strawberry milk?" jude held up the pint containers, "strawberry, we still have chocolate milk at home," you said, jude nodding as he quickly picked the orange juice and your favorite yogurts. "i was never a fan of sweet or flavored milk but these are soooo good," you exaggerated, jude smiling hard down at you.

"never a fan? these were my childhood as a kid! my mum used to buy these or the powder to make it ourselves," jude says recalling a old memory thinking of his babygirl. "you reckon she'll like them too?" jude spoke softly as he saw you give him a fast nod. if there was one thing loved it was discussing his babygirl. he was so anxious and wanted to meet her. the itch in his teeth getting bigger as every day passes.

to hold her while she slept, hug her to keep her warm, coddle her to sleep, feed her. he was ready for it all. he loved to shop and spoil her already. her carrier, crib, different books, toys, and stuffed animals like he had as a kid. she didn't know it yet, but she would be jude's second best friend. firstly you. always you.

they saw if one ever finds love at first sight, and jude definitely did with you. a smile so bright, eyes gleaming with happiness, a stranger who he fell madly with almost immediately after hearing her say hello. through ups and downs, you found your way to each other and since then, it's a love story for the movies. jude had his career blowing, a beautiful fiancee, and now a baby on the way. what more could he want?

as jude helped bag the groceries into the recycled bags you had, you paid and thanked the cashier whom you got close with on nights like these. asking how her day was, about her kids, anything special, always something to distract her. "you two have a safe night!" she yelled as you turned and thanked, wishing her a good night as well.

after you insisted on helping, you carried four light bags as jude carried most bags since he hated double trips. you guys quickly unpacked everything, longing and wishing to get into bed. you ensure the stove and other appliances are off, grabbing your tea and heading upstairs with jude.

"lay here for me," jude instructed, grabbing some cream and begging to smooth and massage out the muscles on your legs and shoulders. "after we have her, i promise i'll return every single thing you did for me while i was pregnant," you say struggled and full pleasure as the tension went away at jude's fingertips. "oh i'm fully expecting the injured boyfriend method again," jude teased as he finished up.

he grabbed a new book, laying on your side as you brushed and played with a few curls on his head, twirling them around your finger as he breathed softly. he looked so gentle and full of excitement like this, reading to your babygirl, who sensed her daddy's voice as she kicked. she knew, she always knew.

he applied your belly oil to prevent any stretch marks and kissed the small ones that formed along the way. jude cherished your body for carrying his baby in there, for being able to give and bring a new life into his and yours. you laid on your side, jude's chest connecting and fitting the crevasse on your back, holding your tummy as in a way to keep it safe.

you placed and locked hands with his, as jude wishing you a goodnight, peering kissed on your shoulders then finally lips, moaning in delight, a tiny groan leaving his lips. "i love you so much darling," he whispered, kissing your temple and snuggling into you more. "iloveyoutoojude," you said fast, with a playful smile on your lips as you felt a familiar sensation of a certain craving. "okay now i do want some pop tarts..."

"are you serious right now?"

#jude bellingham #judey thoughts 5️⃣ #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham one shot #football fanfic #footballer #football x reader

[wttcsms]

balancing act ; satoru gojo.

pairing satoru gojo x f!reader   word count 3.9k   synopsis gojo bets that he can get you to fall in love in three months, and you bet that he can't go three months with staying committed to one person and not bang them. neither of you plan on losing. content contains modern no curses!au, mentions of sex and vulgar language (but no smut yet), simp gojo <3 author’s notes i plan on wrapping things up quickly this time around, so i have five parts planned for this mini series!

Satoru Gojo is used to a wide array of reactions to any of his antics: awe (the summer analyst, Miwa, always stares at him like he himself is the one who created the stock market), irritation (Nanami is rarely ever in agreement with the comments Gojo leaves on his work), lust (Gojo gives just as much he receives because he’s benevolent like that — his words, of course). 

But he’s not quite used to being laughed at. 

He’s handsome, and he knows it, a deadly combination for any man because Shoko claims that all men are born with an astonishing amount of audacity and it only ever grows as they get older. Satoru brings up the fact that Shoko technically cheated her way through med school, and that any doctor worth her degree wouldn’t get onto patients while lighting up a cigarette of all things, but Shoko is equally stubborn and audacious as any man, and it just makes her a worthy opponent to get into arguments with. 

Being attractive and arrogant isn’t enough to keep him from suffering mild humiliation from time to time, though. The reason why Satoru doesn’t get embarrassed is because the world is unfair, so he happens to be born rich and smart enough and talented enough to just keep on getting richer. Even he is entirely aware of his privilege, but he’s got the type of personality that would be endearing even if he wasn’t hot, so everyone loves him. 

And you don’t hate him, he knows that. He also knows that you don’t love him, which is fine, because it’s not your love, or awe, or irritation, or lust (okay, maybe some lust would be nice) that Satoru wants from you. He just wants you for you, your honesty and whatever scraps of yourself that you toss to him. 

Today’s scraps are your laughter, which rings through the whole entire office, singing above the noisy clacks of keys being smashed by the analysts and the whirring of the printer shooting out hundreds of pages a minute. He feels a warmth spread from his stomach to his chest and maybe it even rises up to his neck, he’s not so sure. He should feel slightly embarrassed, he thinks, to have said something seriously only for you to find comedy in it, but he doesn’t. He just feels pleased with himself for making you laugh, like he’s done something great.

“You are so full of shit, Gojo.” You’re still smiling, even though you’re not bothering to look at him anymore. Your attention is now focused on the report one of the analysts has turned into you, and from the lack of comments you’re leaving, he assumes it’s Megumi’s work. 

“I was being serious, y’know.” Satoru’s more than tall enough to see over the cubicles, especially when he’s standing up, and he leans over it, his head and upper body leaning into your personal desk space. The cubicles don’t do jack shit for privacy, anyway, so he doesn’t feel bad when you complain that he’s invading your privacy. If it was privacy that you craved, you wouldn’t have three monitors raised, each of them displaying a jumble of numbers and words that Satoru doesn’t care about. 

“So was I.” You tell him.

Just thirty minutes ago, you walked into the office with a quad shot espresso, unceremoniously plopped your Longchamp tote onto the floor, and dramatically sighed to get your desk neighbor’s attention. Utahime is always a good sport when it comes to your antics but doesn’t bother extending the same courtesy to Satoru, which he considers to be very unfair considering that he’s technically everyone’s boss. It is his name that’s displayed on the side of the building, and his private equity firm that he’s built up alongside Suguru. 

“What happened this time?” Utahime asks you, like the good sport she is. Satoru, at that time, was pretending not to eavesdrop even though he is, because he’s a nosy bastard. 

“I hate men.” You say, leaning back in your chair. “He left me for someone nice.”

The way you say it lets him — and Utahime, who is actually the person you’re talking to — know that that nice was a direct quote from your ex.

Utahime furrows her brows, looking confused. “But you are nice.” 

Debatable, is what Satoru wants to say, but he’s remaining silent so he can get the full story out of you first.

“No. I’m a workaholic with no personality outside of my fancy finance job.” 

Ouch. 

Satoru doesn’t see an issue with you, though. So what, you’re hardworking and focused? He thinks it’s kinda hot to see someone with so much ambition and discipline. He wouldn’t have hired you if you were anything less. 

“He’s just insecure.” Utahime says, soft voice trying to soothe you, even though Satoru hears the familiar sound of your manicure typing in your login details to your computer. He knows it’s silly to think he can tell the difference between your typing and anyone else’s, and he doesn’t want to think too hard about what that could possibly mean when it comes to defining his feelings for you.

“You said the same thing about my last three exes, and they all said similar things about me.” Satoru can’t see either of you from this angle, but he’s certain that you’re opening up your emails right about now. The conversation is coming to a close, and he needs to start focusing on his own tasks, but then you say something interesting, practically baiting him to come out of his office.

“I’ve decided that from this point forward, I am swearing off men.” 

Utahime laughs. “You can’t just swear off all men because of a few bad ones.”

“Not forever.” You clarify. “Just for the time being. All the men I’ve dealt with  in Tokyo suck.”

On paper, all your exes are fantastic catches. There’s the surgeon (who found you to be too independent), the professor (who thought you were too busy to give him the attention he needed), the hedge fund associate (who thought that he liked smart girls, but apparently, not ones smarter than him), and your newest ex, the investment banker. The irony isn’t lost on anyone — an investment banker criticizing someone for being a workaholic obsessed with the prestige of their finance career? If he was going to scramble for an excuse to want to see other people, he should have chosen some other cliche line instead of using the same one someone else must have said to him. 

“What’s this about men in Tokyo?” Satoru strolls up to the divider between you and Utahime, hands in his pockets, pretending that he hasn’t been listening to the entirety of your conversation from the very beginning.

“That all of them suck.” You say, with that unwavering confidence he likes. 

“I’m a man in Tokyo.” He’s grinning.

“Yeah. I stand by what I said.” You’re not even being courteous enough to look at him, still focused on whatever email is on your screen.

His grin only grows wider.

“Maybe all the men you’ve been with are subpar, but I bet I could change your mind.” 

“Is this even appropriate for work?” Utahime interjects. 

“If it’ll make my dear employee Utahime happy, I can grab someone from HR to supervise this conversation.” Satoru says.

“It’s a trap.” You tell her, lips curling up in a smile that lets him know you’re going to say something very mean and probably true about him. “He’s already broken protocol with everyone who works there.” 

“You’re very disrespectful to your boss. Anyone else would have fired you on the spot.” Satoru only pretends to be wounded by your comments, but everyone knows that he’s as good at taking it as he is at dishing it out. Sometimes, it’s easy to forget that Satoru owns this firm because he’s not very good at professionalism himself. 

Utahime mutters something under her breath, deciding not to engage further in whatever it is the two of you are doing.

“So, whaddya say? Wanna test out your ‘all men in Tokyo suck’ theory with me?” He knows this teasing won’t go anywhere, even if he wants it to. You’re good at your job, and you’re good at being a professional. Somehow, he doesn’t think you would consider fucking your boss as something very professional. 

“I would, but I have standards.” 

Satoru wants to make a snide comment about all the guys who have dumped you, but he can’t, because it’s already been established that they’re not just decent by regular standards, but stellar. Rich, successful, well educated men who could probably make you cum. 

Well, Satoru is richer, more successful, and more educated than all of them combined, he thinks. And he would gladly make you cum like crazy, if you let him. 

“C’mon, what’s wrong with me?” 

“Promise I won’t get fired if I’m being honest?” You turn your desk chair, looking up at him with mock doe eyes, and the sight shouldn’t be both endearing and hot to him, but it is. 

“Give me your worst.” He tells you, both of you smiling at the challenge. 

“I don’t give anything of myself to a man who can’t even bother to commit to anyone.” 

Of course, you have a point. Satoru’s not known for dating anyone. He takes women out on extravagant dates, yes, but he doesn’t actually practice the act of dating. 

He doesn’t see a point to it. Most people, save for his friends (a bit weird to consider some of his closest companions are actually his employees), see beyond his shiny veneer, and dating would just complicate things. Dating means someone seeing the duller, not-so-great parts of himself.  

“I could commit if it’s you.” 

The way he says it, without that familiar teasing lilt of his, makes you burst out laughing. He really is trying to commit… to the bit, that is. For a moment, Satoru almost tricks you into thinking he’s serious. 

“You are so full of shit, Gojo.”

You’re focused on your work, not the momentary hurt look that disappears from his face as quickly as it came. 

“Don’t be such a pessimist.” He tells you. “I bet I could make you believe in love again.” 

“Who said I didn’t believe in love?” You frown at that. “I just don’t believe that the men in this city are capable of it.” 

“Bonus season is upon us.” Satoru says, suddenly having a bright idea. He’s so rich that his wealth seems to be an extension of himself, and like all other parts of his body and mind, he uses it to his advantage. 

“Ugh, don’t tell me this conversation is going to affect my bonus check. I really will go to HR, then.” 

“I’ll double your bonus pay if you let me court you for three months.”

“Court me?” You’re laughing at him again. He eats it up, savors it, lets it settle on his tongue and warm his insides. 

“If you’re so convinced I’d be horrible and only prove you right, wouldn’t you jump at the chance to make some easy money?” 

He’s trying to bait you into accepting; you know it. You also know that nothing from Gojo comes easy. He makes it entirely too convenient to forget that he’s razor sharp and cutthroat, the things he needs to be in order to remain on top of the finance scene, but he’s always joking, always teasing, that it feels like he almost doesn’t like being taken seriously. 

“Like I said, I don’t deal with men with commitment issues.”

There was a brief moment in time where you considered going out with Gojo. The two of you have always been rotating in the same social circles, way back to your high school and university days. You don’t shame him for having casual sex because Gojo is genuinely sweet when he wants to be, and you know that everyone he’s ever fucked has done so more than willingly, probably too eagerly. They all get broken up over the fact that Gojo never wants to actually enter into a relationship with them, and it’s probably because they chose not to take him seriously. He has a bad habit of spitting out the truth but presenting it like some sort of joke. A guy shouldn’t take you out to a nice dinner and make you cum twice before even thinking about himself if he doesn’t want a girl to fall in love with him. 

For as long as you’ve known Gojo, he’s never dated once. Never a high school sweetheart or a tumultuous college relationship bound for disappointment and a messy breakup. Even now, he doesn’t follow the example of the other men in positions of power like him, who pursue doe-eyed college girls to shower with affection and trap into manipulative relationships. 

He’s cute and funny and would treat you right, but you can’t deal with the embarrassment of having someone only for one night or two, only to have them do the same thing they did with you, just with someone else. It would feel like a mockery. Your pride doesn’t give you room to give in to Gojo’s charm.

“Is that really your only stipulation?” He shrugs, like this is something insignificant, and you’re being so silly. “I’ll stay committed to you for the entire duration of the bet.” 

You narrow your eyes. “You need to keep your dick wet at all times. I’m pretty sure you die if you don’t get off at least once a day.” 

Utahime coughs, but it sounds too much like a laugh. 

“True, but I bet you’d be great at keeping me alive.” 

Oh, he is definitely getting sent to HR.

“So you want me to believe in love, and you’re convinced you can do this by the time bonus season rolls around, which is only three months.” You’re entering business mode, rearranging the facts and coming up with strategies in your head. Satoru never thought that someone thinking could be so attractive, but here he is, and here you are. 

“I’ll agree to participate, but only if you can handle what I consider to be proper courting.”

“What does that consist of?” He’s got you, hook, line, and sinker. There’s nothing Satoru Gojo cannot accomplish. He’s built up his own wildly successful private equity firm, doubling his family’s fortune. He graduated top of his class. He gives every girl he’s ever been with consecutive, mind blowing orgasms using just his tongue and two fingers. There’s nothing you could possibly say that his natural talents and money can’t handle. 

“No sex. No kissing. No touching.” You lean back in your chair, looking far too smug. 

“Done.” 

He doesn’t even have to think about agreeing, but you falter, just for a second. 

“Really?”

“Why are you looking at me like that?” 

“It’s not just you saying no to sex with me, but sex in general.” You pause, trying to spot when the realization of the severity of his situation is. When he doesn’t give you a reaction, just still continuing to tilt his head in mild amusement, you continue. “You can’t flirt or take anyone else on a date, and you definitely can’t fuck them, either.” 

“Yes, I’m aware.” 

“You’re going to regret this.” You huff, certain that Gojo is dumber than you thought. He might think this is all fun and games now, but when he’s pent up and unable to get off, you’re certain you’re going to receive a text from him forfeiting the bet altogether. It shouldn’t bother you that he acts like your addition to the bet is easy, because his failure means your pockets get fatter, but it’s no fun playing games when someone isn’t ready to fully play to win.

“Hmm. We’ll see.” He says, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Make sure to finish going over all the analysts’ slide decks because I’m taking you out tomorrow night.” 

The timer for the bet starts tomorrow, then.

Satoru thinks it’s cute that you thought you had him there, dangling sex like he’s some barbarian who can’t survive without it. Sure, fucking is fun, and sure, you’re definitely denying yourself of some of the greatest experiences you could have had, but he uses his brain more than his dick. 

If any girl is worth going celibate for, it’d be you.

Sitting in his office, he can’t concentrate on his work. He doesn’t know why it bothers him so much that you think not having access to your body would be enough to turn him away. Either you really do think he’s a sex addict, or the men you’ve been with aren’t as great as they appear to be. It’s probably a mixture of both, but this conclusion doesn’t make him any happier. 

Neither does having Suguru saunter into his office, without knocking. Just walks in, like he owns the place. And with his fifty-percent ownership of the firm, and his last name right next to Gojo’s on the building, he kind of does.

“HR is going to have a field day with you,” his best friend says in exchange for a greeting. Satoru would have preferred a hello.

“HR is in charge of the payroll that I fund,” is Satoru’s retort. 

“Only you would force an employee into a childish bet instead of asking her out like a normal person.”

“Didn’t force her.” Satoru conveniently doesn’t acknowledge the latter half of his statement.

“Didn’t really give her much choice, either.” Suguru smiles. “Shit, even I’d deal with your ass for two hundred grand more.” 

“Well, unfortunately for you, I’m committed to one woman only.” 

“God help her.” And then, after taking a second to think, Suguru continues. “Actually, if He really cared, He wouldn’t have kept leading her to the same places as you.” 

“Maybe I’m her blessing.” 

No one in the office knows why Suguru is laughing so hard behind Gojo’s closed door.

“There’s no way this is legal,” Utahime tells you, taking a sip out of her iced matcha latte before continuing on her half-lecture/half-rant. “Gojo needs to be behind bars.”

A bit dramatic, all things considered. It’s not like Gojo’s comments even make the list for sleazy things male coworkers have said to you before, and you’re not entirely innocent, either. You like to poke and prod at him because it’s fun, and you know that Gojo can take it. 

Utahime does not respect Gojo, but she does like him enough to tolerate him. They’re like brother and sister, so much so that one time, someone made an offhand comment about how they should just fuck to get rid of their antagonism towards each other, and they both threw up because they were so disgusted. 

“It is a bit inappropriate,” Nanami comments, and you know he’s right because when has Nanami ever been wrong?

Granted, Nanami must have been wrong sometime in his life. He started out with a similar background as everyone else working in the firm. He landed an internship and then a return offer in investment banking, despised it, pursued academia, and was halfway done with a PhD program in economics before he decided to come back and work for Gojo and Geto. He doesn’t tell anyone why he came back, and no one is close enough with him to ask and expect an honest answer.

Nanami having lunch with you is a treat because he prefers avoiding everyone in the office, so it almost feels like you’ve won a coveted prize, one to show off whenever you get back to the office. He likes to keep to himself, but even he’s only human. The interest in your little bet with Gojo is harbored by him, too, same as everyone else who’s heard about it. 

You should feel embarrassed about having your life so publicly known, but finance is a small, incestual pool. Everyone working within it knows each other, has fucked each other, and will continue to exclusively hate and love only each other. It’s a bit cultish, if you think about it, so you try not to focus on the social aspects of the job. 

“It’s not like I’m on his team or anything. I technically only handle deals managed by Geto.” You say this in defense of yourself, as if it changes the morality and ethics of the whole bet. It doesn’t, but the attempt doesn’t go unnoticed. 

“Geto and Gojo are essentially two halves of the same whole.” Utahime replies. “Geto just has more public decency training.” 

“You’re telling me that you can see Geto betting someone that he can make her fall in love with him in three months?” 

“No. He’s not as audacious. I like Geto, he’s very cautious.” Nanami looks thoughtful for a second. “He would bet six months, just to be safe.” 

Satoru knows that he’s screwed the moment you’re being introduced as the newest student in his class. School started two weeks ago, so everything’s already been settled. Everything important, that is, so the hottest girl in class has been established, along with who’s going to be relentlessly bullied, and who everyone is going to cheat off of. He has different routes mapped out for getting to class, depending on his mood and who he’s trying to avoid, along with a new secret hiding spot that he’s not going to share with anyone, except for Suguru, and maybe Shoko. 

He likes that he’s already gotten all this shit dealt with so he can spend the rest of the year relaxing, but he’s watching you as you’re standing in front of the class, talking to the teacher and then introducing yourself.

The first thing he notices is that the ugly school uniforms are decidedly not ugly. He comes to this startling conclusion when the boxy, starchy white button-up shirt doesn’t look like cardboard on you, and that the gray wool of your skirt doesn’t wash you out. 

The next thing he notices is that you speak differently than any of the other teenage girls he’s dealt with, save for Utahime and Shoko. Shoko has no issue with speaking her mind, and if Satoru presses enough buttons with enough pressure, he can get Utahime to curse like a sailor. He spaces his aggressions out accordingly, so that way when she does blow up in his face, she does it in the presence of an adult. You introduce yourself confidently; there is nothing shy or meek about you, even though standing in front of a bunch of disinterested teens — your strange new peers for the rest of your high school years — should be anxiety inducing. 

Then, you take the empty seat next to him like it belongs to you, and Satoru is starting to think that maybe it does, that maybe it always has. 

(Well, Suguru is sick today, that’s why the seat was available.)

Anyway, all of his carefully laid out plans are now tossed out the window. He needs to figure out what route you take to get around, and what the rest of your class schedule looks like, and maybe it’s just him, but the former hottest girl in school has now been demoted to second-best. 

He feels a shift in the air, like the universe is trying to signal major change in his life, and rather than run away from it, Satoru settles into his seat, noticing how you’re not even giving him the time of day. 

There’s an unfamiliar feeling rising inside of him; something that says you’re going to constantly knock him off-balance and—

—he kinda likes it.

#satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #fluff #one shot #jjk x reader #smut #fic series: balancing act

[stardustizuku]

Unfortunately I came across a very strange and misinformed video about Black Butler.

It’s not good. Don’t watch it. Unless you wanna ruin your day, in which case have fun.

Despite it all, I watched it. What left me wondering, however, was how off the mark the person who made the video was on, well, everything.

From their insistence that the Book of Circus Arc theme or point is non existent, to reading Ciel’s character so badly they genuinely thought the Green Witch Arc did nothing for his character development.

While baffled, it also made me think on how someone could read Black Butler so badly.

Sure, you can say that there’s no real way to read or interpret something “in the wrong way” but interpreting The Hunger Games as a pure battle-royale action story would make you believe it’s bad.

“Why are we focusing so much on how the capitol preps them?” Or “Why isn’t Katniss winning everything?” Or “I wanna know more about the rebellion” All questions that miss the actual point of the story - which is criticizing (not solving or ignoring) the way that media distracts us from violence via spectacle.

The same thing applies here. While there is no “right” way to consume media, there’s things that the author makes clear they wanna focus when creating a story. Things that, if you understand, make the story you’re reading actually make sense.

And in Black Butler there’s three things that you have to understand to properly get what Yana is saying.

Sebastian is the protagonist

Ciel and Sebastian’s relationship IS the story.

And that relationship is, fundamentally, a positive one.

A quicker version of it would be:

Black Butler is a love story from the POV of Sebastian, and you have to ship it to get it

- but that’s not entirely true.

You can still look at it as a complex but ultimately positive rship and get in broad strokes of what it’s conveying. It doesn’t have to be romantic. Although, it helps much more than a platonic framing.

(That said, interpreting their rship as father and son, still isn’t the best way to go about it. Mostly because by its very nature of “soul consuming” their relationship is extremely sexually charged. And hey, if you’re into that I don’t judge. However, if you’re desperately trying to interpret their rship as NOT romantic to the point you fall back on heteronormative patriarchal ideals of nuclear familiar as framing device, I don’t think this interpretation bodes with you)

Now, having all that ground work:

Why do I say these are the key components to understand BB?

Okay so, first,

1. Sebastian is the Main Character. The protagonist.

There’s a lot of people who wanna argue against it, claiming he’s either the villain or the antagonist. Both wrong.

He does not function as an antagonist. Even if, and an emphasis on if, you consider Ciel to the protagonist, Sebastian isn’t a narrative antagonist.

If you wanna go back to Creative Writing 101, be my guest. An antagonist is directly defined by the protagonist. It’s the opposing force. If the protagonist wants A, the antagonist wants to stop them from getting A.

Sebastian’s catchphrase is “Yes, my Lord”. He never opposes Ciel, in fact quite the contrary. By the mere fact they’ve created contract, it means that they’ve both agreed in the inevitable outcome.

People want to frame Sebastian as the villain, because Ciel having his soul taken by a demon, would be a BAD END in the context of their moral compass. They see Ciel as a frail victim of abuse, who’s being tricked by Sebastian, who wants Ciel’s soul.

Which is an. Interpretation. A bad one. But still one.

The narrative (and whether the narrative fits your personal moral compass and lack of critical thinking is irrelevant) treats Ciel as an agent in his own destiny. The abuse he suffered was the moment in which he had no control. It’s only after he meets Sebastian that he can rid of both his guilt and his despair, and do what he wants.

In this case though, it’s revenge.

The famous “Asthma” scene shows this. If Ciel is taken back to his past, he becomes helpless. Swarmed with pain and memories that make it so that he can’t even react. Sebastian is his saving grace. If Ciel didn’t have him, and the power he wields to rebuilt what’s broken, he would crumble once more.

If Ciel has a panic attack, because of all the pain he has, Sebastian picks him up and says “you are not a helpless child anymore, you are not a victim anymore, you have the power to do anything. So, what do you wanna do?”

Ciel’s answer is to kill them.

A proper analogy would be to say that, if Sebastian offers a gun, Ciel pulls the trigger. They are both at fault. Sebastian, strictly speaking, is not here to directly cause Ciel’s downfall, but as a tool Ciel uses to plunge into the abyss.

If, again if, you were to frame Ciel as a protagonist, Sebastian falls closer to the “Voice of reason” character. Not a literal voice of reason, but a literary one. If you have a protagonist and an antagonist exchanging ideals, the Voice of Reason serves to engage with the protagonist on their own ideals.

That said, Ciel isn’t the protagonist. The story quickly falls apart if you interpret it as such.

Things such as Ciel’s character arc being…shall I say odd?

It’s not that his character arc isn’t there, but it’s never lineal. His goals stay the same, the only thing that happens is that we start to peel back the “why”s of his goals. Throughout the series it’s never about Ciel understanding himself better, he knows who he is, he knows what he wants, he knows why he wants it. He doesn’t ever need to uncover these, but simply remember them. Because it’s always about the audience understanding Ciel.

He knows he wants revenge.

In the Circus Arc: He knows that he needs Sebastian because without him, the pain of the abuse he suffered would be too much to bear. But WE are introduced to it.

In the Book of Atlantis: He knows that with this new lease he does not want happiness and peace, he wants revenge. The one being told this is the audience.

In Green Witch Arc: He knows that their revenge isn’t for his family, the real Ciel or guilt. It’s because he wants it. He’s angry, he’s upset, and this is entirely for him. The one being told this is the audience.

Except. Not really. The one either discovering or remembering these key moments - is always Sebastian.

Sebastian is the one who reassures him that he now holds the power of a demon to override the pain. Sebastian is the one who remembers that to override that pain, Ciel wants revenge. And Sebastian is the one who discovers that that revenge isn’t built out of grief or guilt, but for himself.

We are witnessing it all, through the eyes of Sebastian.

This is why we have an extremely vague idea of who Ciel is, Sebastian does not have the whole picture.

If you haven’t been reading this manga with your eyes closed, you’ll realize we have a better grasp at Sebastian’s character than that of Ciel. We get a lot of insight on how he thinks and what he values through light hearted dialogue he has with the servants. You even see the character development in these little interactions.

Think about how when he first arrived to the mansion he magically created food with no regards to taste, but when he meets Bard he states that food is created to see whoever will eat it, smile.

That is character development, more than you will be able to see from Ciel.

Because Ciel’s character, while not static, doesn’t go from point A to point B. Mostly, cause it doesn’t need to. He went through that when he lost the real Ciel and got Sebastian. Everything we are watching is the falling out.

Now, given the fact that I’ve told you that it makes more sense for Sebastian to be the protagonist/main character, and that he 100% isn’t either a villain or antagonist in ANY of the interpretations you can get:

Do you believe me?

If you don’t, you’ll probably believe Yana herself.

This is from the first Volume, where Yana herself describes the process of making Black Butler. The primary idea behind the creation of BB was a butler as a “hero”.

If you go back to the introductory chapter, you notice that Ciel is barely mentioned. He’s simply the one to give Sebastian impossible tasks and standards that Sebastian must find how to overcome.

Ciel is properly introduced until the NEXT chapter. The second chapter has this formula too, introducing Lizzie as a problem to overcome. Although, to Sebastian the best way to “get rid of the problem” is simply to indulge her.

The issue here being that the problem isn’t as simple as a business meeting but something directly tied to Ciel and Ciel’s past. Each time that Sebastian has to solve a problem, it chips away at Ciel. While with Lizzie he shows a persona, once he’s alone with Sebastian he acknowledges the toll it took on him. It serves to build Ciel as Sebastian’s master, and how some problems aren’t as simple as discarding a tablecloth.

The third and the fourth, are a unified narrative, with a similar premise to the first chapter. Ciel gets kidnapped and Sebastian must find a way to retrieve him without raising suspicions.

If the first chapter is to set up what Sebastian must do as a butler, the third and the fourth serve to set up what he must do as a demon.

The entirety of the volume, and up to Book of Circus Arc, is about how Sebastian tries to follow the increasingly absurd orders that Ciel has - it is not about Ciel trying to solve them.

That’s how they work, we follow Sebastian for the most part, because he’s the one having to come up with the solutions.

If anything, in early Kuro, where the emphasis was more on a slice of life conflict, Ciel is the antagonist. He’s the one creating problems for Sebastian to solve.

What’s more, in the second volume, the very first chapter is one from Sebastian’s POV. So far, we hadn’t gotten an entire chapter from Ciel’s POV. In fact, I would find it hard to point to a single chapter where Ciel is the POV throughout. The reveal of real Ciel and the flashback is the closest contender.

But once we move past early Kuro, and into Book of Circus, this set up changes.

It’s fairly easy to assume that Ciel is the main character, because from this point on the conflict of the plot sorta surrounded him. We spend a lot of time with him and with his story. The enemies start being people directly tied to Ciel and Ciel’s trauma. Rarely, if at all, we get to see Sebastian before he met Ciel.The framing device for the story, is Ciel.

This is where point 2 gets intertwined.

2.- Sebastian and Ciel’s relationship IS the story.

The story begins at the point where Sebastian and Ciel met. Who Ciel was before he met Sebastian, informs why he’s the way he is when he does. You have to know all he went through to understand why he’s a brat, why he lashes out. However Sebastian’s past doesn’t matter…because Sebastian himself doesn’t care much for who he was, before he was “Sebastian”. That’s also part of the narrative.

Unlike Ciel, he doesn’t seem opposed to revealing information from before the contract. He talks about how pets from where he is from are gross, he talks about how he knows how to dance because of other places he’s been to, and alludes to the life he's lived before.

Just that, to him, they're footnotes.

He makes allusions to a very bland, uninteresting life, up to the point he meets Ciel.

That’s why we don’t know more about his past.

As for why we focus on Ciel’s story…okay maybe we need Creative Writing lessons 102

I studied Dramaturgy for about 3 to 4 years. And something you notice is how play-writing is the quintessential story telling. It’s making it work with the bare bones of a story.

Some other mediums have more finesse, more depth, or more spectacle - all amazing things that work for whatever they’re created for. But understanding a play, how and why it works, helps understand the fundamentals of any derivative story telling medium.

Particularly, conflict.

Conflict is dialogue and dialogue can take many forms. A story, in its essence, is a dialogue between two opposing ideas.

Take Batman, for example, who embodies the ideas of justice and order. On his own, he’s not a well rounded character.

If you ONLY present him, in a vaccum with nothing else, you don’t have a character. You have a list of characteristics that you’re supposed to know.

You only know who he is when you have dialogue with another character.

I say Dialogue, but it doesn’t necessarily mean spoken language at one another. Dialogue can mean fist fighting, playing tabletop games, talking to other people about the other, or even just a competition. The idea is to simply to compare and contrast both ideas.

If you want an example on how tabletop games serve as dialogue, watch the video “Well, Someone Had to Explain the Liar’s Dice Scene” by Lord Ravecraft

Another example, were we to retake Batman, you have him fight Joker. Who’s the embodiment of chaos and randomness.

In the following picture, you get far more information than the one previously shown. While the Joke fights with daggers and fake guns, Batman only uses his fists. He doesn’t use the tricks that Joker does. His serious demeanor, contrasted with Joker’s glee at the dangerous situation. The fact that Batman has a deathly grip on Joker’s shirt, while the Joker doesn’t, which shows a desperation to catch him.

You are being shown, through a dialogue, who Batman is.

It’s so much easier and much more effective to explore a character through another character.

This is the reason why Shonen has a tendency to make incredibly good gay ships. If you want to explore Naruto’s personality, and his feelings of inferiority, you HAVE to have him interact with Sasuke.

If you wanna understand Hinata’s passion for volleyball, you have him enjoy himself the most with the only other crazy motherfucker who’s as obsessed with volleyball - Kageyama.

And I think that originally, Yana had this problem.

Sebastian was the protagonist, but she had little room to develop him as a character in the confines of the manor, dealing with random enemies.

She likely tried to create Grell as someone of the same stature as Sebastian. Someone who could be this other person to engage dialogue with and show or allude to his past a bit more.

The problem being that Sebastian didn’t care for his past. Or really, engaging with anyone. He sees everyone as below him, but when confronted with Grell who isn’t below him, he doesn’t wanna talk to her.

So you’re stuck in conundrum.

How do you have dialogue with a character, that as a character trait, doesn’t really wanna have dialogue?

Well, Grell also solves the problem. Because only the moment she gets him to start any semblance of a dialogue - is questioning why he’s serving Ciel.

And this is the moment when it’s perfectly cemented that the focus of the story is their relationship.

Why is Sebastian here? Why does he stay? What did he see in Ciel that made him want this extremely convoluted contract?

THATS the dialogue.

THATS the conversation we’re having in Black Butler.

We need to know Ciel because understanding who he is, let’s us know WHY /Sebastian/ is here.

Then slowly, with the introduction with the Undertaker, we find out Sebastian’s conflict.

Which is…

He’s scared of losing Ciel. It becomes apparent with the constant imagery of the Undertaker taking away Ciel and at some point even obtaining r!Ciel’s body, that he’s worried it might happen.

But he can only be worried that Ciel might be taken away if he wants to stay near Ciel.

And that’s his character arc.

Realizing that he actually likes Ciel, cares for him and the role he plays a butler that he doesn’t want this to end.

In the first chapters, he doesn’t feel a need to protect Ciel anymore than what’s strictly necessary. Just don’t die, that’s about as deep as his involvement in chapter 4 gets.

But by the Green Witch Arc, he feels a need to protect Ciel from ANY harm.

This is why I also said

3.- Their relationship is fundamentally a positive one.

In broad strokes, Sebastian to Ciel is the person who allows him to survive. He’s not worried about giving up his soul since he’s already dead. While Ciel to Sebastian, is someone who’s making him have fun. He’s slowly becoming more and more attached to Ciel and the life he has with Ciel.

Their relationship is not that of just a predator and prey, but also of master and pet.

In the terms that Black Butler itself would call: Sebastian is a wild wolf acting like a collared dog.

Ciel is aware that the wild beast will eat him at the end of the day, but if he clings hard to leash for now, he might just be able to have Sebastian maul his abusers.

Sebastian as a dog, currently finds that he enjoys being a chained dog.

(This is demonstrated in the Green Witch arc where he quite literally says, he doesn’t wanna be a wild beast and prefers to be a butler)

And much like the actual DOG Sebastian, Ciel constantly interprets his attempts to get close and protect him, as an act of aggression.

This push and pull of Ciel’s perception of Sebastian and Sebastian’s true motives is what feeds the story.

And the briefs interludes were that isn’t the case (what other people call the “plot”, but I would refer to as the connective tissue) such as Sullivan and Wolfram, the other servant’s past, the grim reapers and the like, serve as a parallel to Ciel and Sebastian relationship. Either to signify how they care for each other, highlight their weaknesses or fears, or explore how they feel.

It’s no surprise that Sullivan and Wolfram are parallels to Ciel and Sebastian. A sheltered sickly child who seeks the protection of a cold hearted machine that only knew how to kill, but who eventually found he cared for her genuinely.

Undertaker and Claudia’s relationship being heavily paralleled with them, even though we aren’t 109% sure what they had but heavily implied it was a romantic attraction from the undead supernatural creature and a Phantomhive.

Everything is a parallel.

That’s why, like the approach of the terrible original video, is flawed.

Trying to interpret Black Butler as action scene after action scene, with mystery after mystery with the only connective tissue being the mystery of who burned down the mansion - is missing the trees for the forest.

That’s not the point.

And if you’re too much of a prude to engage with gothic horror in its gothic horror game, I see little point as to why you even bother to engage with it at all.

A lot of people, including the person who create the video, simply refuse to acknowledge Black Butler IS the story of Sebastian and Ciel as a close and positive relationship, romantically and sexually charged. The reason for it being that they’re “put off” by it.

Part of me wonders how much that is genuinely true, and how much is just performative outrage. It’s like ignoring the fact that Cersei and Jami are in an incestous relationship and try to frame it as “platonic love”, because the idea of it is THAT off putting.

But regardless of that, if you don’t like the fact that it’s as canon as canon can get, I would reccomend you don’t engage with the story at all.

As I’ve explained, the entirety of the series is about them. If you refuse to see Sebastian and Ciel as, at the very least, a duo that cares deeply for the other - you aren’t reading Black Butler.

I have no idea what you’re reading.Perhaps your own biases and subconscious stigma with British aesthetic. At that point, watch the fucking British Royalty Gossip Magazine. You’d find more substance there.

Just don’t be like the person in the video, please? Don’t play dumb. Don’t ignore the fact that Yana is a Shotacon, don’t ignore the fact Sebastian is a hero, don’t ignore the fact that the entirety of the story is based on Sebastian and Ciel’s dynamic.

Because if you do, you are ashamed. You are ashamed of what this story is about. You don’t wanna engage with the text, you want to engage with yourself. You wanna project into Ciel whatever traumas and experiences you have, for the sake a vanity project, where you come out as the morally superior.

You don’t wanna talk about Black Butler, you wanna talk about how good YOU are. How you “don’t sin” by watching it “without all the gross unholy stuff”.

Which is the exact opposite of what BB is about.

So, if you don’t want to, save us all the humiliation fetish and leave.

#Kuroshitsuji #black butler #sebaciel #essay #loli speaks

[princessbrunette]

rafe whos proud of u for being the bigger person for once ?? maybe in an argument w someone u are always the one throwing tantrums but for (once) u decided to keep the rage to urself and rafe is js so proud :(

🧁ಇ.ೀ

arguing with a friend over text was juvenile — rafe thought so anyway, but he also supposed that a girl like yourself wouldn’t wanna handle all her business face to face, or with violence such as he would.

you’d been in endless conflict lately. what about? he couldn’t tell you, but everyday it was a new argument with one of your friends which lead to a total, utter meltdown which he had to calm you down from. you didn’t take well to being accused of things, you didn’t like being treated poorly and you hated feeling misunderstood. that’s what he’d gathered from these out bursts anyway, usually explained through muffled babbling as he holds you tightly to his chest. you were like him in a sense sometimes, couldn’t control your emotions. however instead of lashing out, you just were a total cry baby.

he’d found you like that when he’d arrived home, being able to hear it all the way from downstairs. he sighs, jogging up the stairs to find you pacing his bedroom, phone tightly clutched infront of you, letting out loud sobs with your eyes glued to the screen.

“whats— what’s all this what’s going on?” rafe pauses in the doorway, dumbfounded and practically gaping at the fact this was happening again. you sniff harshly, voice high and defensive like rafe was the one attacking you.

“she said i’m a bad friend and i’m disloyal but you know i’m not you know i try—” you cough, and rafe walks in, setting his sunglasses and keys down on the dresser.

“who? same girl who was givin’ you trouble yesterday?” he squints, leaning against the dresser as he watches you pace around, an upset wreck.

“yes.” you whine, bringing a fingernail to your mouth as you continue to cry, reading over the message.

“alright, okay so what are you gonna do about it? ‘cos this can’t keep happening everyday baby you’re — you’re not in high school anymore.” he pushes, almost unable to believe for once that he was the voice of reason.

you think for a long time, letting out a sad sob as you lock your phone and drop it onto the bed, wiping your eyes. “be the bigger person.” you repeat his words, words he’s been encouraging you to follow since the first argument. it was difficult, you refused — and he didn’t fight you too hard on it. being the bigger person is hard when you’re being unfairly attacked.

“yeah? come over here.” he opens his arms and you drag your feet over, snivelling and pawing at your eyes. “its hard, alright? if anyone knows it’s me. but you’re… you’re so much better than these girls okay they’re nobodies. trust me. you’re doin’ a good thing kid. believe it.” he gently bats your hands away so he can thumb beneath your eyes instead, cupping your hot wet face with large coarse hands.

“not in high school anymore.” you repeat his words, voice raspy from your own crying and he nods slowly, eyes wide and intense as they stare into yours. he really wanted to get the message across.

“right. you’re a big girl now. time to do big girl things, yeah? when you’re with me, you—you can let all that shit go and lemme take care of things. but when it comes to your friends they’re just immature little girls and you gotta step up. like me, yeah?” he points to his chest in a quick succession of taps. “like daddy.”

you nod in his grasp, exhausted from it all. “okay.”

it’s then he lets you melt against him, cradling your body to his chest and rubbing your back with the wide expanse of his hand. “okay. i’m proud, don’t forget that.”

🧁ಇ.ೀ

#anon #rafe cameron prompt

[works-of-fanfiction]

Kiss and Make Up || Daniel Ricciardo x Reader

Summary: With the couple on a break, it’s hard for Daniel to see Y/N, especially when she’s looking so good in his favourite dress.

Song: Kiss and Make Up - Dua Lipa & BLACKPINK

Warnings: 18+ oral (f receiving), unprotected sex. A little bit of swearing.

Word Count: 3.6k

a/n: I think (???) I’m getting a little better at writing smut. one day I swear I will write one without giggling after every sentence. enjoy!

Daniel's blood boils as he watches her, watches his girl at the centre of attention of his fellow drivers. He wants to be angry at her for entertaining them in the first place, but he's angrier at his so-called friends for gawking at her and passing off their obvious flirting as 'just being nice'. It's annoying because she knows she looks good - incredible, in fact - an emerald green satin dress hanging perfectly on her body, displaying just enough leg to be considered dangerous. It bothered him even more that he chose that particular dress, and now she was parading around in it for everyone to see; for everyone to stare and drool over her. He didn't like it one bit, but he didn't have a choice. 

It was his fault that they were on a break. He'd lashed out, said horrible things. Tension had been brewing between them for a couple of weeks and she could sense he was about to burst. She hadn't done anything wrong; he could see that now. He'd had more than enough time to sit with his thoughts and come to regret everything he'd said, but she hadn't been interested in hearing his apology. At first, in his anger, he'd blamed her friends. He was convinced their influence had led her to her decision, that they'd been whispering in her ear and plotting against him for some time. However, deep down he knew it was nobody's fault but his own. 

The 'will he, won't he' situation at Alpha Tauri had gotten the best of him. His overwhelming desire to race took up all of his attention, leaving Y/N completely on the sidelines. She'd understood, of course she had. Racing was Daniel's dream and she knew how important it was for him to find a seat and get back out on the track, but when things seemed to get difficult and look uncertain, Daniel directed his frustrations towards her. 

"You're a fucking coward, d'you know that? Who are you to stand here and speak to me like that?" 

"Oh, drop the bigger person act, Y/N. It wasn't too long ago that you were going through a rough time and - " 

"Don't you fucking dare. You know that doesn't compare to the way you've been behaving. It is completely different." 

"You know how important this is to me. Sorry, but I think I'm allowed to be a little stressed." He held his hands up in mock surrender which only irritated her further.

"A little stressed, yes. A total asshole? No." 

"Where are you going?" He asked, watching her scoop up her phone and keys from the counter and stuff them into her pocket.

"Anywhere you are not. I can't be around you when you're like this, Daniel." Her voice cracked as she turned away, but she didn't allow him to see her cry. He may not have approved of her being the bigger person, but it's what she had to do. A text a couple of hours later confirmed her need for space, and after spending thirty straight minutes trying to type a response, Daniel realised he had to respect her wishes.

“Here.” Max interrupts, sliding a drink into Daniel’s hand.

“What’s this?”

“I couldn’t stand and watch you stare at her any longer. At least with a drink in your hand you actually look like you’re at this party and not just a creepy stalker.” He chuckles into his glass, the joke going over Daniel’s head, not even bringing the slightest smirk to his lips.

Max gulps, wincing a little at the strength of his drink. “Just go talk to her.” He says, eyes flicking between his friend and Y/N.

“I can’t. She wants space and I have to respect that.”

“Yeah, but anyone can see you’re not okay with that…”

Daniel knew Max had a point. As much as he wanted to give Y/N the space she needed and do everything he could to fix their relationship, he hated being away from her. He hated sitting across the room whilst she pretended he wasn’t there. She hadn’t looked at him once throughout the entire evening and it was starting to aggravate him. He needed to talk to her, even if it was just to find out how she was doing. He didn’t even know if that was a question he had the right to ask, but he wanted to anyway.

Plus, the way she was strutting around in those heels and playfully fixing her hair every few minutes was driving him insane. His eyes couldn’t resist following the trail from her feet, up her legs and to her hips. If she so much as leaned over the bar or stretched to grab something, he’d see beneath the thin green satin and hopefully find out she was wearing tiny, or perhaps no underwear.

He fidgets uncomfortably in his seat, setting his glass down on the table before his knuckles turn white from gripping it so tightly. As Y/N takes Carlos’ hand and twirls beneath his arm, Daniel jumps up from the stool, holding onto the table to steady his feet. “Hey, come on. You know they’re good friends.” Max warns, holding an arm out to try and stop him.

“Make your mind up, Max. You told me to go and talk to her.” He doesn’t even look at Max as he speaks, as his gaze remains fixed on Y/N whilst she dances with the Ferrari driver. There’s nothing suggestive between their dance, and it’s not the first time Daniel has seen them together like this, but he’s suddenly not as comfortable with it as he usually is.

“I think you should calm down a bit first.” Max tries to be stern with the older driver, but he knows his words are going through one ear and straight out the other side. Daniel glances at the Dutchman and gives only a second of thought to his words, then chooses to ignore them entirely.

Stepping past Max’s arm, he makes his way into the crowd and closer to Y/N. Mid-conversation, Charles and Pierre’s heads turn to the Australian as he weaves around clumsy partygoers, almost parting the room in two to get through. The two of them shuffle closer to the bar to get a better view as he reaches Carlos and places a hand on his shoulder.

“Can I cut in?” He asks, once again not bothering to look at who he’s speaking to. Instead he looks down at Y/N, who glares up at him with cold, unblinking eyes.

“Sure.” Carlos mutters, stepping aside, failing to notice Y/N tightening her grip on his hand to try and stop him. Daniel takes his place, his hands awkwardly hovering near her waist.

“Are you going to wrap your arms around me, or just stand there?” She asks abruptly, her tone coming out a lot more aggressively than she’d intended.

Daniel’s hands find her waist and pull her closer, making sure no one else can hear their conversation. Her hands are pressed against his chest awkwardly, all attention concentrating on her feet so she doesn’t fall.

“What do you want, Daniel?” She sighs, exasperation and downright exhaustion evident in her voice. This makes Daniel’s stomach turn and part of him wants to fall to the ground and beg for her forgiveness. He never thought he’d see the day when he’d be the one to make her feel like this. She was disappointed in him, and he was kicking himself for ever uttering a bad word to her.

“I need to apologise - “

“No, you just needed to get me on my own away from the guys.”

Her icy tone catches him off guard, but he feels he deserves it. As much as he’s desperate to finally apologise, he can’t deny that seeing her spending her night with everyone but him was making him jealous. He’d watched her friendships with the drivers blossom over time, especially Carlos and Lance, yet seeing their arms around her and smiles aimed in her direction tonight drove him crazy.

“Am I wrong?” She mocks, reluctantly wrapping her arms around his neck for the sake of her own comfort.

Daniel chooses not to answer, which is an answer in itself. She sniggers, looking off to the side to see the group all engaged in conversation with one another. She knows they’re all putting on an act and pretending not to eavesdrop. Those drivers love a gossip just as much as the next person.

“I don’t like seeing you with them.” Daniel finally admits, his voice low. He doesn’t intend for the entire grid to know his business.

“It’s never bothered you before.”

“Well this time is different.”

“How?”

“Because you’re not speaking to me.”

“And whose fault is that?”

Silence falls between the couple, Y/N’s hold around Daniel’s neck loosening. He reaches up and grabs her hands, readjusting them and holding her wrists tightly. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” She asks, glaring up at him, a devious smile poking at her lips.

“Don’t try to walk away from me.” He lets go of her arms, letting them float down to her sides as he leans in close, lips pressed against her ear. “Especially not when you’re dressed like that.”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes at his words. A poor and sorry attempt at winning her back, yet completely expected from Daniel. “You think sex is going to fix this?”

“Who said anything about sex?” He plays dumb but she sees straight through him. That had always been a thing in their relationship; they were both terrible liars, or rather couldn’t lie to each other as the other could always spot it.

Stepping back, she calls over to Kika who’s stood between Pierre and Charles, tracing circles around the rim of her glass. “Bathroom.” She smiles and Kika nods, slipping away from the table.

Daniel sees this and steps forward, blocking Kika’s path. “Actually, she doesn’t need you to go with her.”

“Daniel - “ Y/N snaps, cut off by his arm linking with hers and pulling her in the direction of the bathrooms.

“Come on.” He barges through the doors, squeezing the two of them into the first stall and turning the lock.

“I can’t believe you just spoke to Kika like that.” She whispers angrily, yanking her arm out of his grasp.

“She’ll get over it.”

“Pierre won’t.”

Y/N folds her arms over her chest, leaning against the flimsy cubicle as Daniel’s eyes wander around the small space. She sighs, heels scraping against the ground as she stands back up straight. “Well you got me here. What do you want?”

“You know what I want.”

“Actually, I don’t. Did you bring me in here to apologise… or was there something else?” There’s a shift in her tone and a look in her eye that Daniel instantly recognises. He knows she’s still angry at him, but sees there’s a part of her that wants him just as much as he wants her.

Sparing her a proper response, he slips a knee between her legs and pushes her against the wall. It shakes a little, encouraging a small smile to appear on her face. “You disappoint me, Ricciardo.” She purrs, running a perfectly manicured finger across his jaw.

“Something tells me you’re not so disappointed.” He grinds his knee upwards, pressing it against her clothed pussy. She groans, body slumping forward in pleasure. He catches her with his chest, pushing her back up, keeping her upright against the wall. “Does that sound like the moans of a disappointed woman?”

“Shut up.” She hisses, delicate fingers wrapping around his throat to pull him in for a kiss. Daniel moans, the sound strangled as her nails dig into his neck. The kiss is entirely in her control as she holds him in place, squeezing his throat just enough to make his breath hitch. She draws back, sucking his tongue between her lips and letting it go with a quiet popping sound.

“If we do this, it doesn’t magically fix anything.” She breathes, releasing her grip on him to rest her hand on his chest.

Daniel is smart enough to know better, and knows that hasty sex in a bathroom stall isn’t going to mend all of their problems, but he’s too turned on and fuelled by liquid courage to care. Running his hand over the top of hers, he links their fingers and flips her around to face the wall, pressing her palm flat against the cold wood. She yelps in surprise as he uses his free hand to hike her dress up. He’s delighted to see the black lace that’s barely covering her, and he hooks his forefinger through the waistband to pull her ass towards him. “Planned on getting lucky tonight, huh?” He taunts, his fingers tracing the patterns in the lace.

“I was hoping one of the guys would take me home.” She quips sarcastically, bending over more and grinding her ass against his hand. Daniel groans, letting go of her hand so he can use both freely. He grabs her ass and spreads her legs, his mouth falling open at the sight of her pussy peeking through her underwear.

Wasting no time, he drops to his knees and pushes the thin string to the side, giving him full access to the part of her he needs the most. Feeling his hot breath against her exposed cunt, she gasps, parting her legs even further. “That’s it.” Daniel hums, taking his middle finger and running it slowly through her folds. Y/N’s legs quiver as he touches her, barely inserting a finger as he concentrates on circling her pussy and feeling just how soaked she is. His finger eventually finds its way to her clit, flicking gently against the swollen bud, making her whole body twitch with arousal.

She moans his name, the word elongated on her tongue. He stops for a second, lying his hand flat against her core. “Shh… You don’t want people hearing us now, do you?” He whispers.

Squeezing her eyes shut and biting her lip to suppress any further sounds, Y/N nudges Daniel with her leg, urging him to continue. Instead, he grabs her thighs and pulls her closer to him, her feet sliding along the slippery tiled floor. “Let me taste you, baby.” The sound of his voice disappears between her legs, her thighs almost cupping his cheeks as he finds her clit with his tongue. The tip of his tongue swipes across her clit, slowly then repetitively in a rhythm. His hands hold onto her thighs tightly, his fingers leaving indentations in the supple skin.

Y/N sinks her teeth into the back of her hand, trying her best to stay quiet. Saliva and bite marks cover the spot just above her wrist whilst Daniel buries his head further and laps up her pussy like a starving animal. His nose pokes between her folds, and the newfound friction elicits a heavy exhale from deep within her chest.

Desperate to keep that nose she loves so much as close to her as possible, she reaches behind to grab Daniel’s head and guide him to the perfect spot. Fingers tangling in his hair and clutching at the roots, she rides his face, relishing in the feeling of his tongue flat against her clit, and the tip of his nose pressing into her. Daniel holds his breath as she ruts her hips against his face, gripping her thighs until it hurts. She winces, tensing the muscles as she rests her forehead against the wall, teeth still gnawing on her hand. He grunts, the sound sending a vibration to her clit and throughout her entire body, making her knees buckle beneath her. He catches her, supporting her body with his hands alone as he delves his face deeper to suck her clit into his mouth.

Losing all sense of caring, Y/N lets her hand fall free from her lips, releasing a stifled moan that echoes around the bathroom stall. Her thighs squeeze together involuntarily as she comes, and Daniel has to prize them open to set himself free. He stands, hands fumbling with his jeans as he sloppily lays kisses on the back of her shoulder, his chin still slick with moisture, so much so that Y/N can smell her own scent filling the air.

“What did I tell you about staying quiet?” Daniel whispers, his lips barely touching the back of her ear.

“I’m sort of sick of you telling me what to do.” She retorts, attempting to hide the shakiness in her voice. Daniel rolls his eyes, trying to ignore her words as he pushes his jeans and boxers down his legs, leaving them bunched around his ankles. He knows she’s not just talking about the present, but he’s too desperate to feel her wrapped around his cock to let it bother him. He hasn’t been able to touch her for weeks, and seeing her spread wide for him like this is enough to almost push him to the edge already.

Hands gripping her dress around her waist, he pulls her towards him, sliding his cock inside her effortlessly. Mutual gasps of pleasure and hissed curse words slip off of their tongues as he bottoms out inside of her, his clammy hands losing grip of the satin. Reaching round to grab her arms, he crosses her wrists and holds them behind her back, forcing her cheek against the wall to support her upper body. There’s an aggression to his actions, one hand holding her wrists and another snaking its way into her hair. Tugging her head back, he leans forward, his face beside hers. She looks at him through her peripheral vision, a smug smile on her face as she notices his slack jaw and half-lidded eyes. Daniel was never truly in control when it came to Y/N. The effect she had on him was dangerous and made him want to do things unimaginable. All she had to do was look at him a certain way and he’d literally and figuratively drop to his knees for her.

Daniel’s slow thrusts tell her that he doesn’t plan on lasting very long. Despite his tight hold on her and rough fingers in her hair, his hips roll in leisurely circles, the tip of his cock stroking her g-spot in a deliciously torturous rhythm. The restroom door creaks, a collection of footsteps clattering along the floor outside. With shadows passing the stall and voices filling the space, Daniel drops his hand from Y/N’s hair, instead using it to cover her mouth and keep her quiet. She tilts her head, sucking his forefinger into her mouth, her tongue wet and warm and making Daniel’s cock twinge inside of her. He moans, trying to swallow the sound so nobody will hear.

Daniel’s wet finger trails out of her mouth and down her neck, drawing a line of her own saliva along her throat. Wrapping his arm across her upper body, he holds her close as he fucks her, the heat between them making his shirt stick to his chest. Beads of sweat run down the back of Y/N’s neck and under her dress. Even beneath the harsh bathroom lighting, her skin glistens and looks good enough for Daniel to taste, to lick clean.

Voices gather at the sinks, water running and paper towels unravelling from the holders. Daniel silently prays for them to hurry up and leave, the feeling of Y/N’s pussy clenching around his dick becoming too much to bear. The muffled sounds of the music outside briefly fill the room, before disappearing behind the door. He releases his breath with a long groan, his body slumping against hers. “Finally.” He hisses, stepping back and pulling her ass with him, bending her into a perfect L-shape.

Relieved to be alone again, their pants and moans circle around the stall as Daniel drives his hips back and forth, quickening the pace. His firm grip on her ass cheeks leaves little white outlines around his fingers as he coaxes himself to climax. Hearing the sweet sounds coming from her mouth sends him over the edge, his thighs stiffening as he comes inside her, his body jolting forward in ecstasy. She straightens, resting her body against the wall with Daniel pressed against her back, his sweaty forehead slumped onto her shoulder. He pulls out with a huff, his cock leaking with cum and legs feeling sore.

Y/N readjusts and pulls her dress down, smirking to herself as she feels cum drip out of her and pool inside her underwear. She runs her hands through her hair, hoping she looks presentable as she turns to face Daniel. He zips his jeans and smiles at her, but doesn’t earn a smile back. “I told you, this doesn’t change anything.” She states flatly, reaching for the lock. He stops her, taking her hand in his.

“Come home with me.” He pleads, running his thumb softly over her knuckles, a stark contrast to the way he’d touched her just a few minutes prior.

“You’re kidding, right?”

Daniel’s expression remains serious. He opens his mouth to repeat himself, but she cuts him off with a defeated sigh. “Fine. But we leave now. I don’t need to be dealing with questions.”

“Deal.” He smiles, earning an eye roll from her as she unlocks the door and heads out, her heels clicking against the tile. He follows close behind, the satisfied grin never leaving his face.

#f1 x reader #daniel ricciardo x reader #f1 fics #f1 oneshots #daniel ricciardo smut #f1 smut #Spotify

[herlondonboy]

loose lips sink ships, clarisse la rue

summary: based on this ask

warnings: hurry and comfort

wc: 0.7k

a/n: just a short fic before i go to bed

you liked talking. you could speak for hours about meaningless subjects and meaningful subjects, like going to the outside world to buy more posters. but most of all, you liked talking about people. not in a rude way, just like your gain so much information and explode at clarisse.

she didn’t care for demigod drama, but she loved your voice. if anyone else tried talking her ear off, they wouldn’t have a tongue to talk with anymore.

but you?

she could fall asleep to you talking, wake up to you talking, and have you talk all through the day, and she’d never get sick of it. because she loved you. she loved so you much, she would kill for you if you asked.

it like you spoke before you thought. you hated it, but you were constantly on autopilot. you wanted it to stop. you saw the looks people would give you when you relayed information that you probably shouldn’t have.

at one point, people just stopped talking to you. you didn’t realise, you only really spoke to silena, chris, and clarisse anyway. it didn’t affect you that much.

then they stopped talking when you walked into a room.

it hurt, you weren’t going to lie. i mean, of course it did. you were being ostracised by the entire camp. you were being left alone by the people that were supposed to be your family. you knew why, so you tried to change.

the next morning, you silently walked to the mess hall. it was winter, so you were eating inside, and sat next to your girlfriend.

“hey, baby,” she said in a smug tone. “you okay?”

you nodded and looked around just as silena and chris came and sat opposite the two of you. they engaged in a light conversation, but you just fiddled with your fingers, willing yourself not to speak, not to annoy anyone.

there were whispers, you wondered if they were about the fact you hadn’t opened your mouth at all and breakfast was almost up.

you started to tear up. nothing you ever did was good enough. you talk? you’re annoying. you don’t talk? you’re weird.

“y/n,” you heard, making you snap up and see all three of them looking at you. your eyes dance between them. “what do you think? james and sam are getting awfully close, right?”

you shrugged, “i dunno.” you did know. james and sam had been with you for archery. they got all up close and personal as james tried to teach her correct form, brushing up against her. that wouldn’t be that bad of it weren’t for james’s girlfriend, who was hanging out with her felling aphrodite siblings in the fields, blissfully unaware of her promiscuous boyfriend.

“you don’t know?”

gods, why were they trying to encourage you?

“i don’t,” you said softly, looking down, making sure no one else could hear you.

they could. they could and they were all looking at you. the tears in your eyes became harder and harder to keep at bay, so you pushed your chair back and stormed off, not daring to open your mouth. you wondered if your cries would annoy them.

clarisse found you nearly an hour later. you were sitting on the beach, toes dipped into the water.

“hey,” you looked at her but didn’t say anything. “what’s wrong?” you shrugged. clarisse didn’t like that. “nuh-uh. nope. we’re not doing that. you told me that communication is key. you. talk to me, baby.”

“i don’t do it on purpose,” you whispered. “i can’t control it, they have to know that. my mouth is constantly on autopilot, i don’t mean to be a gossip, it’s just hardwired in me,” tears gathered in your eyes. “so i tried being quite, but they hated that too. i can’t please them.”

clarisse furrowed her eyebrows. “who was it?”

“what?”

“you heard me.”

“um, there was deena and tommy from the hermes cabin?” you answered.

clarisse nodded with a smirk. “i’m gonna beat up luke, too.”

you nodded and brightened up. “did you hear hermes drove luke’s mom to insanity? i also hear that hermes is trying to make it up to him, but luke isn’t hearing him out. he’s got the kind of hatred that would make him turn against the gods.”

clarisse smiled at you and you furrowed your eyebrows. she leaned forward to kiss you softly. “you’re back, is all.”

you chuckled softly. “it’s good to be back.” the two of you stood and you gasped. “which reminds me-“

#clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse my beloved #clarisse x reader #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse x you #clarisse pjo #clarisse la rue #elijah writes

[puckinghischier]

Chef’s Kiss

Nico x fem!reader, soft!Nico, domestic!Nico

summary: Nico fluff, basically

notes: i just really love soft nico and couldn’t get him out of my head so here’s this (also ignore the fact i keep using the same pics in my posts, i need to find more 💀)

[2k]

~

Nico was always trying to do little things to bring a smile to your face. Whether it was having the laundry washed, folded, and put away by the time you got home, sending you funny videos and silly selfies throughout the day, or simply having a glass of your favorite wine waiting on you as soon as you walked through the door, he loved providing small moments of happiness for you. He didn’t have time to do things for you often, his schedule getting increasingly busier as the season goes on, but today he had a completely free afternoon and wanted to have your favorite meal plated and waiting for you to enjoy as soon as you got off work. The idea came to him when you called him on what was supposed to be your lunch break.

“Neeks, I’m so sorry but I have to work late again. I’m having to re-do all of my reports for the day because my boss didn’t like the format that I used, even though it’s the exact format he told me to use three days ago! I swear sometimes he just wants to make my life a living hell. I don’t get paid enough for this shit.”

Nico had a fond smile on his face, despite the nature of your call; hearing you rant to him about work was always something he looked forward to. While he didn’t love the fact that you were upset and that your boss was a grade A asshole, he loved being the one you came to when you were frustrated and just needed to blow off steam. It always made him happy to know that he was the one you called when you needed a mid-day pick me up on particularly stressful days. He had tried to tell you multiple times to just quit—that he makes enough for the both of you to live on – but you wouldn’t even entertain the thought. You’d always tell him no and that you needed to pull your weight with the bills and rent, too. You didn’t want to have all of the tears you shed while you were in college go to waste. To quote your exact words ‘I’m going to use this damn degree even if it kills me’. He admired your work ethic and that you didn’t want to have him be your own personal bank, but it was times like this he wishes you would just take his suggestion to heart and actually quit.

“I understand, but don’t work too late, schatz. It’s not good for you. Tuck and I will be here waiting on you when you get here,” Nico looks over at the cat quietly snoozing over on the couch. “I noticed you left your lunch in the fridge; do you need me to bring you something? I don’t have to go back to the rink today for anything, so I could pick up something from that sushi place you like and we could have a little lunch date? Give you a few minutes to reset and recharge?”

“No, it’s okay. I don’t have time to eat today anyways. At this point working through lunch is the only way I’ll be able to come home before midnight. Thanks for the offer, though, Neeks. I have to go, my boss is calling me, probably to tell me something else I did wrong. I’ll text you when I leave, love you,” you hang up the phone, not giving Nico a chance to respond. He knows your boss hates when he catches you taking personal calls on company time, so he just sends you a simple “I love you, too. Please eat something and don’t work too hard” text since you hung up before he had time to tell you himself.

As soon as he pressed send, Nico grabbed his keys and took off to the grocery store. He really only went to pick up the ingredients to make dinner, but he couldn’t help making a quick stop at the local florist, grabbing a small bouquet of daisies he knows you’ll love. As he was driving home, he remembers this bakery you had told him you’ve been wanting to try, so he finds himself in said bakery picking out a few baked goods for you to taste test (and maybe a few for himself, too). By the time he had made it back home it was well past five, when you typically leave your office for the day. Once he brought his haul of groceries, flowers, and pastries in the door, Tuck greeted him by meowing loudly for his food.

“Sorry, Tuck, I’m late for dinner, aren’t I?” Nico asks the cat as he walks over and fills the hangry cat’s food bowl. “Now that you’re fed, I need to get to work on feeding your mom. That is, if I can manage not to burn anything.”

Nico got to work immediately, turning on the cooking playlist you had made and grabbing his ‘Kiss the Swiss’ apron you had jokingly gifted him for Christmas. He pulled out the recipe book that your mom gave you two as a house-warming gift when you first moved in. Just last week you had been talking about how you missed your mom’s famous pasta, so he decided that was his attempted dish of the night. He laid out all of the ingredients and followed the recipe as closely as he could, paying special attention to all of the little notes your mother added in the margins of the typed recipe. About an hour into Nico’s cooking you sent him a text that you were nearly finished and would be home soon, but he was so busy trying to perfect making pasta from scratch that he never even looked at his phone. When he was on his third attempt at the pasta dough, he heard the front door open.

He looked over at the clock to see that it was nearly seven-thirty. He heard your keys hit the bowl sitting on the small table beside the front door and your sigh of relief once you took your shoes off. He could hear the soft thuds your feet made on the hardwood while you walked into the living room. He looked up from the counter to see your tired body drift over to the couch where Tuck laid sound asleep.

“Hey, Tuck. How was your day? Did you catch a lot of Z’s? Dream about catching mice? Poop on your dad’s pillow again?” Nico heard your soft voice say, chuckling at your last question.

The poor kitten had, somehow, got locked in yours and Nico’s bedroom a few weeks ago and neither of you noticed until it was well past feeding time and the little furball hadn’t come running into the kitchen screaming for his dinner. It took the two of you twenty minutes to hear the soft meows coming from your bedroom, the TV in the living room having drowned them out for most of the day. As soon as you opened the door Tuck came sprinting out of the room as fast as he could, acting as if he’d been in there for days. He ran straight to his food bowl and turned around, glaring at Nico and yourself. Later that evening the two of you made your way to the bedroom to settle down for the night only to find that Tuck had left a nice, smelly present on his pillow. Nico was appalled, to say the least. Gagging and holding his pillow out with straight arms as if it was poisonous. You, however, were doubled over with laughter. You fell onto the bed and were laughing hysterically when Nico finally came back into the room, no pillow to be seen.

“I don’t know why you’re laughing; it’s disgusting! The cat shit on my pillow!” Nico expressed, standing in front of the bed with his arm crossed, looking like a toddler throwing a temper tantrum.

“Neeks, it’s hilarious! Out of all the places in the room he could’ve shit, he saw your pillow and thought ‘Ah, yes. Dad’s pillow. I think this will be my new bathroom.” You wipe the tears from your eyes, slightly out of breath from your laughing fit.

“Well, of course it’s funny when it’s not your pillow! If he would’ve shit on your pillow, you would be as upset as I am.” Nico huffed, still in his childish stance.

“Wait, where is your pillow?”

“In the trash.”

“You threw away the whole pillow!?” you exclaimed, starting to laugh all over again.

“Of course, I threw away the whole pillow! I’m not about to sleep on that thing tonight! It’s contaminated!”

“Nico, you could’ve just gotten a new pillow case. You didn’t have to throw your whole pillow away! What are you going to sleep on tonight?” You asked him, amusement clear in your voice.

“Well…I didn’t think that far ahead,” Nico said, his stance deflating a little.

He ended up sleeping on a throw pillow from the couch that night, picking up a new pillow on his way home from practice the next morning. Since then, the two of you have always made sure to keep your bedroom door open anytime Tuck isn’t in his usual spot on the couch.

Nico smiles at the memory, completely forgetting the fact that he was supposed to be kneading the pasta dough in his hands. By the time his thoughts circulate back to the task at hand, he hears you ask the cat “Where’s your dad, huh?” followed by the sound of your clothes rustling as you move to get off of the couch.

“Nico? You in here?” you call as you walk around the corner of the living room into the kitchen. “Neeks- Oh, there you are. What are you doing?” You stopped in the doorway of the kitchen when you took in the scene in front of you. The pots and pans on the stove, the steam coming from a pot of boiling water, the smell of chicken in the oven, and the bouquet of flowers and box of pastries on the counter next to them. Then your eyes move over to Nico, noticing he was absolutely covered in flour. He had flour in his hair, on his face, on his apron, in the floor, and all over the counter.

“Nico, what the hell are you doing? What is all of this?” you asked him once the two of you made eye contact.

“Well, I was trying to have dinner waiting on you when you got home because I know you’ve had a shitty day, but I’ve just now realized that I don’t know how to make pasta from scratch.”

“Why are you trying to make pasta from scratch?” you walk towards him, laughing at how distraught he looks.

“You said you’ve been craving your mom’s pasta recipe, so I thought it would be a good way to cheer you up after the day that you’ve had,” he replied, grabbing a towel to wipe the flour off of his hands.

“Nico, I love you, I do. And I appreciate the effort, but please throw that ball of…whatever that is in the trash and just use dried pasta next time,” you look over at what’s supposed to be pasta dough, reaching him and placing your arms on his shoulders, hands coming together to rest on the back of his neck.

“I try to make you a nice meal and this is the response I get? No ‘nice try’ or ‘wow, it smells great in here!’” he jokes, looking down at you, attempting to look offended, but his eyes only reflect love and amusement.

“You’ll get real praise when you learn how to make pasta from scratch. For now, consider this your compliment,” you stand on your toes, pressing a small kiss to his lips.

“You call that a compliment? Read the apron and try again.”

You laugh before meeting him halfway for a real kiss this time, thinking to yourself just how lucky you were to have Nico in your life.

#nico hischier #nico hischier blurb #nico hischier fanfic #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier one shot #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier x y/n #nico hischier x you #hockey #new jersey devils #hockey fic #hockey imagine #nhl blurb #nhl oneshot #nhl imagine #nhl fanfic #nhl fanfiction #nhl players #nhl #nhl hockey #nhl fic

[xerith-42]

I know it seems like striking on social media might not do enough, but as someone who has been outright obsessively using the internet since I was a child to the point that it is literally woven in my soul, been active and involved in online activism for about five years, and been using social media as marketing for about the same amount of time, I can confidently say that

THIS FUCKING WORKS!!

People base their entire businesses on their success on social media. They look at trending topics on twitter and don't see bite sized chunks of culture distilled to its finest and worst moments, they see market data! They don't see you as a single human being, they see you as a data point among thousands run through a probably AI assisted system that's prone to fucking up, that determines everything they're going to do.

How they're going to advertise, who they target it with it, what the general public wants. Every single major corporation uses data from social media websites to do this. Every. Single. One. Social media is a lot of things, and one of those things is a tool for business and politics. We know for a fact that social media politics bleeds out into the real world very fucking quickly.

Even if you can't strike financially, even if you have to go to work or school to survive, striking on social media is one of the best things you can do. Even if it's quiet. People are going to notice when thousands upon thousands of users across various sites go completely dark, and even more when some of them start getting real fucking loud about this. The US Capitalist Infused Government loves sweeping war crimes under the rug once they think the general public has forgotten about their atrocities and fallen into complacency. This system has been doing this for literal centuries.

Social media is just the newest and most expansive form we as a species have developed in the ongoing invention of ways to express our thoughts about things. It's the weirdest one, that's for sure, but executives pay attention to it. They don't often seek to understand it beyond a very basic level, because as I said, they view us as numbers on a screen, not as multifaceted incredibly and deeply fucked human beings. They do not seek to understand us on a personal level unless they think the cost of it won't outweigh the potential profit.

Pattern recognition is the tool of the moment. Machine Learning. Gathering endless amounts of data so we can replicate human existence through machines. You may think that social media strikes are ineffective because social media is just on the internet and it's "not real", but it is real! You are really doing stuff! You are contributing! Even if you're just lurking! Basic amounts of engagement can make a huge impact in a busted algorithm. Maybe you're not someone who would ever be drafted into an actual war-zone due to physical or mental health conditions, but you are probably a part of a key demographic of people that businesses are absolutely hungry for.

The budding adult has always been the target of greedy capitalists basically since this system was established and continued to get worse over time. The stage of your life when you are in the age range of 18-25 is an incredibly important transitional period, followed by a transitional period every six months until you lose sense of what six months even is because you haven't been happy in eight, and if you're in the 18-25 range currently, you got extra fucked by the pandemic. The world is in a turbulent stage and we are at the center of all of it and have been since 2001. Every single social media marketing expert will tell you the 18-25 demographic of social media users is a target demographic, because they are the most prone to extremes due to a life chock full of them.

We have to remember to be human, but we have to also know how to speak their language. They just see us as numbers? Let's show them some fucking numbers. Make posts about Gaza trend on every platform you have your hands on. Even if it's just liking posts, that gives them a slight boost in the algorithm. Commenting on posts is especially important on sites like Twitter and Instagram. But across every site the most important thing to do is reblog/retweet/share/send/copy link, whatever it is for that site, it is the biggest thing that everyone, and I mean EVERYONE looks at.

From a humble artist to a head of marketing at a billion dollar corporation about to have a meeting with a barely over 21 intern about how they need to run the twitter account, to said intern bumbling their way through adulthood with a job they only feel they're good at because they've been using social media since Skype was invented. We need to be loud, we need to make sure this can't be ignored, we can't sweep this under the rug. Mass media, especially coming out of the West, has been trying to censor, de-sanitize, and keep this issue quiet.

DO NOT LET YOURSELF BE SILENCED

There are tens of thousands of DEAD CHILDREN who have been BOMBED while in CIVILIAN AREAS and that is a FUCKING WAR CRIME.

THIS IS A GENOCIDE

Say that as many times as you can. Do not let it be ignored. A silent populous is a complacent one. Use your voice, even as small as it may seem. Make noise. Be loud. Be annoying. Don't let this be ignored. Talk about it everywhere you go. Do not let this be ignored.

Sometimes even we get disconnected from the real people around us. We base our sense of worth as a person based on the numbers going up or down but instead of developing a gambling addiction we just got angry about it but still fall into it because of cultural conditioning. But even if you only have let's say, completely random example, 70 followers. And only a small percent of them will see your post. Let's say maybe 20 on average, 30 on a good day, and even higher based on the machinations of fate. That's still 20 people who took time out of their day to read something you wrote, process something you created, share a part of your experience of living.

And likely they felt compelled to share it too, therefore increasing the spread of people who feel your influence. 20 people may not seem like a lot, but that has a major impact. Now imagine posts into the hundreds, thousands, hundreds of thousands and even millions. Those aren't just numbers. Each and every single one of those is just another person who might have reblogged a post because someone they like shared it, or because they wanted to spread its message, and that simple act causes a single post to have massive waves of effects from simple ripples.

Don't let yourself be discouraged. Don't think your voice or your impact "isn't enough to matter." Everything counts.

Don't let this be ignored. Don't become complacent. Know that every little thing counts, and to do every little thing you can.

#freepalastine🇵🇸 #free palestine #free gaza #social media strike #from the river to the sea palestine will be free #strike for palestine #palestinian genocide #palestine #ceasefire #endisraelsgenocide #isreal is committing genocie #do not be silent #please reblog #spread the word #spread awareness #be loud