#there still are some idiots who just refuse to listen

[yueebby]

sooo i read your "indulge me?" piece and that's why i wanted to ask for gojo simping for reader that doesn't really seem him as more as a friend and he's fine with it (lol he's not but he's need to keep the facade you know???) hope you write it at some point! btw loving you writing so far <333

11:34pm — gojo satoru

contents. highschool!gojo, fluff, he’s so in love bye, underage drinking, tokyo and kyoto students have a little get together!

“what’s wrong with him?” utahime watches her white haired underclassman down another can of beer. it was rare to see gojo drinking with the rest of the group, always opting for a soda instead.

shoko takes another swig out of her drink, unsurprised. “[name] is on a date.” 

a pathetic groan leaves gojo’s lips and the upper half of his body is splayed over the kotatsu in shoko’s room, sunglasses long forgotten somewhere. he lets out an unapologetic burp. everyone at the table spares him a glance of pity. 

utahime grimaces and mutters a quiet, “gross”. 

“don’t provoke him,” geto scolds shoko, flicking some ash from his cigarette to the ashtray below. “she’s just dealing with clan matters. arranged marriages and whatnot.” he used his free hand to land a firm pat on gojo’s back. what kind of best friend would he be if he didn’t try to comfort satoru? 

“poor thing. i can keep you company in the meantime,” mei mei’s smile is far from something with good intentions. gojo shakes his head to refuse, but with the way his forehead was pressed to the table, it looked comical. like a child throwing a tantrum. 

the only thing that managed to get gojo satoru out of his drunken slump was a soft knock on the door. he could recognize that pattern anywhere. could it be–? the snow haired boy immediately perks up. his drunk dazed eyes brighten as he quickly makes his way to the door. 

geto snorts at the way his best friend reacts. he thinks he can see an imaginary tail wagging, as if he were a dog. 

“you’re late!” gojo accuses you when he opens the door. you blink.

“are you…okay?” your voice is laced with concern as gojo’s large frame towers over you. gojo preens.

“awww, is my [name] worried about me now? don’t worry, ‘m doing just fine!” there is a goofy grin painted on gojo’s face as he leans against the doorway. all conversation has stopped and every sorcerer was listening attentively to gojo's hopeless conversation with you. utahime can’t help but feel just a little compassion for the boy. he was pining so much it hurt.

“i wasn’t worried. it's just that your words are all slurred– don’t tell me you let shoko talk you into drinking with her again?” you sigh. it was hard to miss the smell of beer on him. gojo and alcohol never mixed well, and the last thing you needed tonight was another lecture from yaga. 

from inside her room, shoko shouts, “it wasn’t me this time! the idiot decided to drown himself in beer after we warned him not to!” it was common knowledge that gojo couldn’t handle his alcohol. 

the male in question pouts.

“can a man not grieve about the love of his life being married to another?” gojo deflates. on the other side of the threshold, you wrinkle your nose.

“who said anything about marriage? like hell i’m going to accept a proposal from naoya zen’in.” you grumble. it had been a long night. dealing with your family and naoya was enough to scare you into staying in jujutsu tech for good. you’d rather lose your sanity to gojo than your dignity to naoya. 

“never mind that though, are mei mei and utahime still here? i was hoping to catch up with them!” you smile, crouching under his arm to make your way into the room. gojo doesn’t hesitate to trail right behind you. 

“[name]!” utahime waves happily at you, her mood no longer sour after she sees you. your wave back is enthusiastic. mei mei acknowledges your presence.

“how was dinner with naoya?” suguru asks. your face pinches up. he laughs before handing you a cold can of soda which you accept graciously.

you hear gojo mutter to himself from behind you.

“what’s up with him?” you whisper to suguru.

“you know how he is when he drinks,” he sighs, ushering you to sit beside him. gojo seemed to have his own agenda though, forcefully squeezing himself between the two of you. you shoot him an annoyed look to which he responds with a grin on his face. 

“‘m tired,” he whines, stretching his arms dramatically while letting out a loud yawn. you grunt when there’s a heavy weight on you; gojo has thrown his entire body on your side.

you don’t bother pushing him off. you’ve learned in the two years you’ve known gojo that he is like a baby when he gets drunk. it’s best if you let him have his way.

“go to sleep then, idiot,” you flick his forehead. he juts his bottom lip childishly, looking up at you with wide eyes. his eyes are captivating and you think you see nervousness through those azure orbs.

“will you come to bed with me too?” he rests his chin on your shoulder. you raise an eyebrow in surprise.

“eh? why would i?”

“because i’m cute.” gojo bats those long eyelashes of his innocently. you roll your eyes playfully before taking another sip out of your soda. 

“you’re weird– that’s what you are.” your lips quirk upward, eyes twinkling with mirth. he sulks, chin still comfortably supported by your shoulder.

“‘m not that bad!” he protests, a frown forming on his lips. you look at him for a long moment. this was the first time you’ve ever gotten to look at gojo this closely. 

his hair was getting longer, you note silently. with your free hand, you slowly move a strand of hair out of his face. gojo watches you earnestly. if his cheeks were not already flushed, they are now. 

“can we stop it with the flirting? let us single folk live in peace.” shoko speaks up. you turn your attention hastily from gojo to the rest of your fellow peers. 

“i feel like i’m intruding on something,” mei mei says scandalously. your eyes widen.

“we are not– no way!” you shake your head repeatedly. no one believes you. especially not while gojo is still resting on your shoulder, eyes watching you, full of love.

“stop giving him all your attention and talk to us! we’re much better company,” utahime scowls, pointing her beer disapprovingly at the white haired boy on you. you think you hear gojo grunt.

“alright, alright,” you concede. 

“i hope you don’t mind me asking again, but do tell us how your night with the zen’in kid went,” suguru snickers. you groan exasperatedly.

“where do i even start?”

the rest of the night goes by pleasantly. you had been so engrossed with retelling your experience with dealing with your family that you had failed to notice what gojo was up to. by the time everyone left their respective dorms (or temporary dorms), you noticed the head of white hair sleeping soundly on your lap.

he mumbles something in his sleep, nuzzling himself closer into your stomach. cute. you giggle at how innocent he looks. 

you don’t know what took over you, but you remember bending down and placing a soft kiss on his forehead. to your surprise, gojo reciprocates your kiss. to the best of his capabilities anyway. you watch as he puckers his lips in his sleep. oh my– how precious.

you suppose he isn't so bad.

notes. THANK U FOR BEING MY FIRST ANON ASK. ily!!! i saw somewhere that gege confirmed gojo would have drunken failures when he was a student haha this is my take on that. hes so bf

also thank you for all the support on my first post?!? you guys are too sweet im crying. i literally giggle and kick my feet reading your feedback ><

#kt.writes.·:*¨༺ #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojou satoru x you #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo x you #jjk x reader #remember spring days!au

[moonstruckme]

can i request a reader who can’t admit she’s upset with one the marauders (or all)? like refuses to cry…only if you’re comfortable of course. thank you :)

Thank you for requesting gorgeous!

modern au

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

The smell of smoke coming from the kitchen is the first sign that Sirius has tipped over from resentment into remorse. 

“Jesus,” you open the front door on your way into the kitchen, eyes watering, “what are you doing?” 

“I was trying to make rice,” he says, fanning desperately over your pressure cooker, “but I think I’ve fucked it.” 

“Do you think so?” Any other day you’d both grin at the harmless snark, but now Sirius’ expression pinches and you think your own must look the same, your tone more biting than you meant for it to be. “It’s fine, it’ll be fine once it airs out. Help me with the windows?” 

Sirius acts like it’s a competition, opening three windows before you’ve finished two and looking at you like he’s expecting a pat on the head for it. You try to give him a smile, and his expression clouds over. 

“Sorry,” he says, voice not quite cool but oddly remote, “the idea was to surprise you with dinner, and I’ve broken your rice thingy instead.” 

“It’s not broken,” you reassure him. “I’m sure it’ll be fine once I clean it out. Why were you trying to make dinner?” 

Sirius grimaces. It’s a full body motion, his eyebrows hooking in the middle while the muscles in his forearms shift uncomfortably and his shoulders migrate upward. “Sort of a shitty attempt at an olive branch, I guess.” 

Some of the smoke has cleared, and you brave the kitchen. “I don’t need an olive branch,” you say. “If you say we’re good, we’re good.” 

“Don’t do that.” He follows you into the kitchen. “I can tell you’re upset, just because—” Sirius hisses when you take the bowl out of the pressure cooker, transferring it swiftly to the sink “—fuck, baby, don’t burn yourself. Let me take care of that later.” 

“I’d rather handle it now,” you say, turning on the faucet. “I’m just letting it soak anyway.” 

“I’m trying to handle this.” Sturdy hands wrap around your shoulders, turning you to face your boyfriend. He looks at you steadily. “Don’t pretend you’re not angry with me, because I know that you are.” 

A spark of annoyance tingles up your spine as you shrug, reaching behind you to turn off the faucet. “I’m not.” 

“Can you stop trying to make me feel like an idiot? I know you. You’ve been all stiff since last night.” 

“You were angry last night. Not me.” 

“Yeah, well it seems to have caught on.” 

You turn away from him and back towards the sink, swishing your hand in the cold water of the bowl to dislodge the charred rice sticking to the bottom. You don’t know where Sirius gets off, acting like you’re holding a grudge when he’s the one who shouted at you last night. Your phone had died while you were out with friends. That was all that had happened. You didn’t think anything of it, because Sirius, the only person who would really worry about not being able to reach you, knew you were out and that you’d be home late. 

But when you had gotten home, he’d been furious. Gone on and on about how he’d been trying to get a response from you all night, and how dangerous it was to get drunk when you couldn’t call anyone (nevermind that you’d been with your friends), and how freaked out he’d been. He wouldn’t listen to you. He’d only wanted to yell and rage, and make you sit in your heels on the couch while he did it. He’d even seemed like he might be tearing up a couple of times. And you hated to think of him being scared for you, but since when was it your responsibility to answer every time he called? He knew you were with your friends. You hadn’t asked him to check in on you. 

He’d gone to bed still fuming and you’d stayed on the couch rather than try to sleep in a hostile bed. Now, inexplicably, his tune seems to have changed. 

“So,” Sirius sighs, “this is you not mad, huh?” 

“Yup.” You scrub at the bowl with your fingernails. 

“I just want a chance to apologize.” 

“You can if it’ll make you feel better, but I don’t need it.” 

“Why can’t you just admit it?” 

“Because I’m not the one who gets pissy about stupid things.” You dislodge a chunk of rice and your hand slips across the bowl, splashing water onto your shirt. “That’s you.” 

There’s a second of dense, oppressive silence. When Sirius breaches it, you can hear the smirk in his voice. “There’s my girl. Tell me about the stupid things I got pissy about, would you?”

“It’s nothing.” 

“No, it’s not. It wasn’t nothing to me, and clearly it wasn’t to you either. Go on, doll.” 

“I don’t want to argue with you.” 

“Sure you do.” 

“Why do you want to fight so bad?” 

“Because,” Sirius says, and you can hear him moving behind you, can all but see him leaning against the counter, the picture of insouciance, “I think you need to get it out of your system.” 

You scrub harder at the bowl. Blackened bits of rice float to the top of the water. “Like you do?” 

A pause. His voice softens. “It’s not always a good thing. I shouldn’t have shouted at you, last night.” Something in your chest tightens painfully at this new gentle tone. “I’m sorry. I let my temper get the better of me. I was just worried about you.” 

“I don’t think that’s my fault,” you say, managing to sound mostly normal. You dump out the contents of the bowl, filling it again with warmer water. “My phone was dead, and I was with my friends. I didn’t need you to worry about me.” 

“I just do, when I know you’ve all been drinking, and I can’t talk to you to know you’re okay…” Sirius takes in a breath, breaking your heart with how it sounds like he’s trying to steady himself. “But you’re right, okay? It wasn’t fair.” 

“I didn’t know I was coming home to be shouted at.” This time, your voice betrays you, a pitchiness that makes you go quiet fast. You hear Sirius move. 

“Sweetheart?” he asks softly. There’s a touch at your elbow. “I’m sorry, baby, please look at me.” 

You don’t want to, but you don’t want your embarrassment interpreted as ire. You take a quiet breath before pivoting from the sink. Sirius’ eyes are waiting, sad and fretful as they probe at yours. 

“I’m sorry,” he says again, impossibly quieter, and runs his fingers from your elbow up the back of your arm. “It wasn’t your fault, I wasn’t being fair. I shouldn’t have shouted at you.” 

You press your lips together, hard. His eyebrows hook up in the middle. 

“You can cry, sweet thing. It’s okay.” You shake your head mutely, blinking, and Sirius makes a terribly lovely cooing sound, snaking an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his chest. You hug him back as the first hot tear rolls down your cheek. “Oh, sweetheart. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” Your shoulders jump with a stilted, poorly repressed sob, his grip on you tightening. “It’s okay, I’ve got you. I’ve got you, baby. My temper tantrum really did a number on you, huh?” 

You laugh wetly. “Guess so,” you squeak. “Sorry.” 

“If you apologize for this, I may shout at you again,” he warns fondly. “You haven’t done anything wrong, lovely girl. Just let it out, if you need to.” 

You know that’s not easy for Sirius to say. Know he’s likely close to tears himself, from how agitated seeing other people cry makes him. You appreciate the offer. 

You fall into a silence less heavy than any that’s suffocated your home since last night, broken up only by the steady, quiet thumping of Sirius patting your back and the intermittent smooching sounds as he kisses your shoulder or your cheek or the side of your neck. You stand still in your smoky kitchen, wetting your boyfriend’s shoulder with tears and snot, and he lets you.

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x you #sirius black x self insert #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fanfic #sirius black fic #sirius black angst #sirius black hurt/comfort #sirius black drabble #sirius black imagine #sirius black scenario #sirius black blurb #sirius black oneshot #sirius black one shot #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fandom #the marauders #hp marauders #marauders x reader

[octuscle]

From tutor to rookie of the year

Hi, my name is Jake. My company has hired me to tutor a few students with poor grades. That's not necessarily the reason why I started working at the auditing company. But first of all, I'm new here and I'm not going to refuse right at the beginning of my career. And secondly, becoming a teacher had actually been an option for me. Maybe it's fate now or something.

The first lesson gets off to a very promising start. I almost have to tear myself apart to leave your office and get to school on time. But when I arrive, there is a yawning emptiness in the classroom. Only after fifteen minutes I hear noise in the corridor and a couple of football jocks barge in the door. A few still in football gear. And all obviously unshowered after training. Phew, it stinks. And as I look into the handsome, square-cut faces of the boys spraying with testosterone, I'm suddenly back at school. The small, clever but shy boy who, at best, the stars of the football team overlook and, at worst, stuff into the toilet. I clear my throat and say that I'm not here for fun either and that I'm asking for some attention. The boys barely react. Damn it, it's not my problem. I explain a few linear algebra problems on the blackboard and ignore the paper airplanes. I have my school-leaving certificate. I have my master's degree. And my bonus doesn't depend on the grades of these idiots. At least I hope so.

After the debacle of the first tutoring session, my appetite for the second is very dampened. But it was already hard enough to get this internship. The firm is one of the most prestigious accountancy firms in the city. And if my pro bono job as an intern is tutoring the idiots on the football team twice a week, I'll survive. Apart from the 60 hours a week in which I have to pore over balance sheets, that doesn't matter any more.

These days, the musclemen are even on time. And somehow nicer than last time. They even ask me reasonably sensible questions like whether you can predict the trajectories of footballs. I take this as an opportunity to tell them something about vector calculus. They collapse with laughter. "Bro, I was joking. And football isn't math. Football is strength and speed." I'm about to take a breath and say something about Newton and the relationship between force and speed. But instead of listening to me, the jocks start bragging to each other about their heroic stories on the field. And I can't help but listen to them spellbound. When the lesson is over, I look after them with fascination. I wish I could have been more like them at school.

Shit, because I'm the only nerd on the senior team who isn't a complete failure at sports, Coach made me give math tutoring to the football team. He thinks the Meatheads might have a little bit of respect for me. Shit! Them for me? I for them might be more correct! The thought of explaining math to my secret crush forms a wet spot in my Calvin Klein shorts.

I expected the boys to keep me waiting. If they were also punctual and disciplined off the pitch, they wouldn't need any help. And I don't want to tutor them any more than they want to be tutored. We reach a compromise. You listen to my math tutoring for half an hour. And then we'll go out onto the pitch for half an hour and play a bit of football. God knows I'm not unsportsmanlike. But soccer has somehow never been my sport. I'm more of a swimming pool or gym kind of guy. Team sports? Not really.

Shit, yeah, I'm no rocket scientist in math. But I have quite good grades in English and history. I'm not going to fail this year. Why the fuck do I have to go to tutoring with the other bros from the football team? I have no idea. But seriously, the tutor is a total loser. A beanpole in a stuffy shirt. The idiot even wears a tie. Seriously, who wears a tie these days? If I had to wear a tie, I'd change jobs. Or if I had to shower after training. Shit, these are just rules that can come from old fat men. Bros like me and my bros smell like test… Testo… Well that hormone stuff. Sweat, musk and Axe. If I didn't have to go straight to detention again, I'd let the loser smell my armpits… But I'm a sophomore on the team right now. Let the juniors and seniors do that.

"Jack, bro!" This is Chuck. The QB on the team. I can tell by his voice. And by his smell. And I'd also know it by the taste of his cheesy boner…. But he stays locked in his jockstrap cage right now. What a damn shame! "Bro, where were you in tutoring? The dean was there. You're in fucking trouble!" Shit, tutoring! I was at the gym. The other guys are all so pumped. I don't want to lag behind any longer. "Shit, dude, we said you were in the bathroom. The loser tutor didn't dare contradict us. But I think you have to let him suck you off so he doesn't tell on you." Hehehehehe, I like that idea. There are still 40 minutes until football practice… And I haven't cum yet today. "Is the loser still in the classroom?" I ask. Chuck nods. I fist bump him and say that I'll sort it out quickly.

If Chuck and Matt go to college next year, I have a good chance to be the QB. But until then I still have to build up a lot of mass. Those two are just in a whole different league. And I'm damn jealous of the hair on Matt's chest. You should see the bush under his arms. Dude, the man is going to be a fucking gorilla! Shit, I'm not half the man those two are. You can tell immediately by the size of the bulge in our compression shorts. Nevertheless, neither of them mind if I fuck them. But they like fucking me even more. Without eye contact. Otherwise it would be totally homo!

We skipped tutoring again today. Coch covers for us while we're in the gym or doing our laps on the cinder track outside. Nevertheless, it's still up in the air whether Chuck and Matt will be at college next year. And whether I'll be a junior by then. But screw it, NFL pros don't need to know math.

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #age reduction #jock tf #nerd to jock #football jock #ai image

[stormsbourne]

alright listen

I know we're all having an evaluation of how eagerly we believe people who present with even the slightest air of authority and frankly good! we all need to be less credulous of people on the internet who tell lies.

but I think there are also other lessons to learn from james somerton. namely about his raging and blatant misogyny, which I've often seen similar forms of in fandom and on this specific site. to paraphrase bombs himself in the ctrl alt del video, if you see shitty behavior within your sphere, it's important to recognize it and try to fix it instead of rejecting it and asserting that no REAL members of the ingroup are like that. and nerds have a misogyny problem. including tumblr. so let's reckon with it.

do you append "white" or "straight" to your comments about women even when those things have little to do with the topic being discussed, just to make your comments seem more legit? (and no, m/m shipping discourse does not give you a ticket to say it's all straight women -- it's fictional characters, james.) do you often theorize about how (hurriedly appended "straight/white/cis") women are responsible for a problem in fandom, nay, all problems in fandom? have you made up a guy based on a single post that annoyed you and extrapolated to say that all (appended signifier to make it ok) women in fandom are like that? do you see women as uniquely fetishizing, uniquely stupid about politics or social issues, uniquely annoying to talk to? do you assume when there's an issue, even a real one and not the fake ones james made up, that a woman is probably at the root of it?

all of this still applies to you if you're a woman. it also applies if you're gay or a person of color or trans. being an oppressed group doesn't mean you are immune from sexism, and sexism is still rampant in everyday life for pretty much everyone.

your shipping and fandom discourse isn't immune from this. no, I'm not talking about how not enough people like yuri. I'm talking about how women who like "bad" ships like r*ylo or whatever are seen as open targets for harassment. how women who are into "bad/problematic" fandoms are seen as idiots and enablers who deserve what they get. how there's an attitude that women who like shitty bad porn must think it's good, must be too stupid to know better, and must need to be handheld and taught about good, acceptable fiction. I've already talked a lot about tumblr's complete refusal to admit that fujoshi wasn't a term coined by delicate japanese mlm to complain about evil women (and I wonder if james contributed to that idiotic concept), but the way I've seen people assert that women into m/m must be straight, must be stupid, must be lying about their identities, must be hurting gay men in real life in addition to wanting some anime boys to kiss ...

I've seen how some of you people talk about amb*r h*ard, is all I'm saying, and I've seen what you've tried to do to dozens of female creatives that, for some reason, you've decided deserve to be taken down or taught a lesson. I've seen the descriptions you use. shrieking, bitchy, whiny, uppity, shrewish, karen (don't get me started on how karen has been turned into an easy excuse for misogyny). you're not bystanders to what james did and is doing, you're a part of it. sure, you might not have the nazi fetish, but you've said things about women that put somerton to shame.

just a thing to keep in mind while the plagiarism discourse is ongoing. somerton is a shithead for many reasons but this is one that's important to remember because I think people often treat misogyny like a lesser crime, a smaller concern, and it's not. just think of what laws are passing and what views popular movements have of women and then, for one moment, consider that maybe your reflexive need to blame women or pick them apart might have been influenced by the Society In Which We Live.

#james somerton #hbomberguy

[catcze]

OKOKOK BUT LIKE

Your idea about a reader who doesnt like tea BUT still drinks it just to spend time with wrio, and then they come clean eventually PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE that boy would cry </3 i need someone to write this omfggg

GOTCHU GOTCHU I GOTCHU BABY

Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!

This, all of this, starts because you're too polite. Too polite to refuse your boss' offer of tea one afternoon after sorting through files together, even though you cannot stand the stuff.

It was because he was very kind about it, you reason to yourself. Not to mention it's widely known that he's very fond of the drink. How would he feel if you refused? One cup wouldn't hurt. It's just one cup.

But turns out that it was not, in fact, just one cup. A few days after forcing yourself to drink the tea without cringing, after you've once again found yourself sorting and organizing papers in his office, he asks if you'd like tea again. So you gulp. And you say yes. Like an idiot. And now you're knee deep in the lie that you're as into tea as he is.

It's not all bad, though. Though you had taken his invitation out of politeness at first, you had found that his grace is actually very fun to talk to. He's much less rigid than other employers in the past, and you'd even dare to say that the atmosphere during tea is rather friendly.

Wriothesley lets you talk his ear off about whatever has caught your fancy recently— whether it be a new book you've read, or some news you've heard from the surface, he always listens whenever you talk. He gives you his full attention, nodding and asking questions where it's appropriate, sometimes even sharing bits and pieces of harmless gossip from around the fortress, too. And over time... well, you've found that you've become more willing to grin and bear the taste of overpriced hot leaf water, if just to be able to hang out with him. He's funny, what can you say. And nice. And he seems interested whenever you talk. And it 's definitely a plus that he's easy on the eyes too.

But the problem is that there is this guilt that weighs in your chest whenever you come over for your regularly scheduled tea time (regularly scheduled tea time!!! archons, the lengths you're going just to hang out with him) that only grows when he proudly shows you whatever new tea he's acquired for the both of you to have.

Wriothesley always gets this excited gleam in his eye, like a dog with a stick, and you'd be a monster to stomp on that excitement. So you nod, you ooh and you ahh and you always compliment the tea after, pulling flowery words and pretty descriptions out of thin air because even if it's just flavored water to you, he likes it.

Doesn't stop you from feeling guilty, though.

"I'm telling you—" Wriothesley says one fateful meeting for afternoon tea. You've yet to even touch your cup, but he's practically already finished half of the teapot. "I don't mean to assume, but I really feel like Jurieu and Lourvine? I really feel like those two are seeing each other, and just using their work as a cover," he sighs, taking a sip of his tea. "Not that it's even an issue if they are, but— hey, you okay? You're looking a little... unsettled, there."

And it's probably true. You've been sitting and debating if today was finally the day you're going to come clean. You've been pinging the thought around in your head before you've even stepped into his office. Worn you lip and the inside your cheek with nibbles as you feared how bad it could go.

You've no doubt that you look bothered. Your hands are gripping the teacup so tightly you think you might accidentally crack it any second.

"I... I have to tell you something," you blurt out, not meeting his eyes. The abruptness of it leaves him blinking.

"Is it the tea? If it's not to your liking, i can find a different blend," he offers, and you groan.

"No! Wait— yes! I mean, yes it's the tea but it's not—" the words come out a mess, and you're flustered. "It's not the brew of the tea I don't like. It's just that... I... Idon'tliketeaperiod." It's a jumble of words, slurring together as you spit it out so fast you barely understand what you said yourself. But you said it! You finally said it— oh, you can feel the guilt come off you like a weight, and you slump back into the seat, exhausted by the sheer effort it took to say that.

Wriothesley's lips are parted, brows furrowed as he looks at you, clear confusion on his face. "You don't... like tea?"

You shake your head weakly. "Nope."

"At all?"

"At all."

He pauses, like he's trying to process the concept of it. Then he laughs a little, finishing his cup in one swig, and leans back against his chair. He looks a little defeated, a hand running through his hair, mumbling under his breath that, that sure wasn't what he expected to hear.

"You could have told me sooner, you know? I do have more than just tea down here in my office. I can't imagine how many weeks you've had to put up with it."

You groan, hiding your face in your palms and cringing, because talking like this was not your definition of fun. Telling the guy you found attractive (despite his penchant for the worst tasting drink in Teyvat) why you stuck around was not what you had readied yourself to do today.

"I know," you say. "I just... It was to be polite at first, but overtime i found hanging out with you fun. You're nice to be around, and to talk to, and you listen to me talk even if I ramble. And..." you sigh, one hand coming to rub your temple, still hiding your face away in embarrassment. "And I don't know— drinking all that leaf water was worth being able to be around you. Or something. Ugh."

You're ready to be evicted from the office. For Wriothesley to toss you down the stairs and out his door or something. You're not expecting him to laugh, to sport a blush high on his cheeks. He clears his throat when you look at him in surprise, but he can't wipe the small smile from his face.

"Honestly, when you said you had something to say, I had expected it to me more along the lines of that," he admits, running a hand through his bangs. You're silent, still rather lost on what to do next, what to do now that the man you're smitten with had practically admitted to having wanted to hear a confession out of your mouth.

Wriothesley reaches across the table and gently plucks your untouched teacup out of your hands, bringin it to his own lips. You can still see his smile behind it brim.

"Well, if you still want to see each other, I'm not opposed. How does this weekend sound? We can go someplace that serves more than just 'leaf water', so you can enjoy your drink too."

The blood rushes to your face and your tongue feels heavy in your mouth. A date. Was he asking you out on a date?

"Yeah, sure," You respond when you get your mouth to work. Your heart is beating rapidly in your chest— you're excited. "This weekend works."

And Wriothesley's eyes gleam. He sets the teacup down, and that smile is back on his face. "Sounds good, sweetheart."

#astronetwrk #「 🐈‍⬛ 」 catcze.desserts #wriothesley x reader #genshin impact x reader #cw gn reader #genshin impact #wriothesley

[gabrielsbubblegumbitch]

this may be hard to answer because we don’t actually know the characters too well yet, but what do you think vox and val actually *love* about eachother? it seems like it’s more than just sex between them, and i’m curious to know what you think their relationship is like outside the toxic or sexual parts

Anon, to me it is not hard to answer at all, I think about it constantly 🩵❤️ of course all I write is based mostly on my headcanons and interpretations.

So... What Vox loves about Valentino? First and foremost, he makes him feel free. Vox is very self-conscious; he has a lot of internalized shame that he tries to cover with his grandiosity and fake smile. Valentino is unapologetically himself, and no matter how annoying it can be, Vox admires it. He's like the least judgmental person, and except for his temper tantrums, he's quite chill. Vox can't handle something? Val doesn't care; he still thinks his boyfriend is smart and will figure shit out eventually. Vox discovers he's into some weird, socially unacceptable kink? Great, they can try it. Vox rambles for hours about sharks? Good, he has a passion; Valentino likes people with passion, he will listen, he likes his voice anyway. Vox, who has spent his whole life crafting this perfect narrative about himself, cherishes the opportunity to feel comfortable enough with other people (a lot of these things apply also to his friendship with Velvette) to act like an absolute idiot around them.

Also, I think Valentino can be a really amazing boyfriend - he can be funny, charming, and mindful of the other person. That's his whole thing; he deals with desires, and that's why people get addicted to him so quickly. In most cases, it inevitably ends with him taking absolute control over the other person and becoming abusive. But Vox is his partner, so he gets just those nice bits because Valentino knows he wouldn't be able to put him down like he did with Angel. Not that he'd want to; he likes having a partner who's equal to him, whom he can break only if he allows him to do so (yes, my reading of them is very BDSM-ish, don't @ me). Valentino wants to be loved, he loves the idea of love, surrounds himself with hearts but at the same refuses to adjust to societal norms in the way that makes him unlovable; every person he ever loved (in his mind, his obsessive desire equals love) rejected him eventually after he revealed his true nature to them. But not Vox. Vox accepts him as broken as he is, and despite all his toxicity, Vox is reliable, he's the most stable part of Valentino's life. He has the patience to deal with his mood swings, he can always find the solution when Val messes something up, he's willing to accept all the attention Valentino wants to give him, and he supports his passions (ruining lives, making weird porn and abusing people).

Essentially, their love is largely about finally finding the other person who is as bad as you are, who accepts you no matter what and helps you grow (become an even worse person).

And some additional things:

Valentino really likes how smart Vox is. He himself is impulsive and acts instantly on his urges because violence is always an answer so he's kinda impressed when Vox presents him with some elaborate plots.

Vox loves Valentino's creativity, aesthetic, and attention to detail. He really likes nice things, but he lacks the ability to understand the nuance that is necessary for creating art.

They both enjoy each other's sense of humor.

Vox really likes that Valentino is kinda dumb? He can take care of him, and he likes taking care of people because it allows him to prove himself as The Best Boyfriend. He doesn't necessarily gets the idea of unconditional love, so the fact that he has an opportunity to earn it makes him feel more secure in their relationship. That's also why he loves spoling Valentino with gifts which is perfect because Valentino loves being spoiled.

Valentino likes being a little silly when he's with Vox. At work he can't manage people with his competence, so he does it with fear. But yelling and throwing people around is exhausting; he sometimes wants to bedazzle his gun while watching some trashy reality TV and bitching about his hard day at work. It's okay because Vox is also a little silly.

Valentino generally helps Vox live life more. He helped him come out of the closet (in my headcanon Vox for his whole life struggled with internalized biphobia); shows him that emotions other than anger are acceptable and don't mean weakness; even small things like always insisting on getting nice meals (while Vox could live his whole life on black coffee and rice) or decorating their apartment with fancy yet useless stuff.

They're both power-crazy maniacs, so the idea of being with someone who is widely desired by others and could destroy them if they wished is just so incredibly hot.

Vox | Valentino | What they hate about each other

If you liked these you should definitely check out my fic

#vox #hazbin hotel #valentino #voxval #vox hazbin #ask #valentino hazbin hotel #staticmoth

[randomshyperson]

A Moody Witch Makes a Moody Morning - [HS Challenge]

Summary: A lazy Sunday with a very temperamental witch suddenly turns upside down.

Warnings: Fluff hours, an attempt at comedy, emo!Wanda being jealous and cute. | Words: 756.

General Masterlist | Wattpad | AO3 | Holiday Season Masterlist

-&-

Lazy Sundays were your favorite.

Especially in a routine divided between being a superhero and a university student, with the bonus of a temperamental emo witch girlfriend who much of the time stressed about things that had nothing to do with you but ended up being your fault. 

You wouldn't have it any other way.

Especially when you had Wanda in tender moments like these - almost asleep side by side, just enjoying each other's company in silence. Wanda, focused on a magic book and you playing some of the strange games Pietro bought you for your birthday.

And with the good Maximoff temperament never failing to change, Wanda suddenly pinched your ribs.

"Hey, what was that for?" You mumbled in a confused laugh, pausing the game and looking at your girlfriend pouting.

"I just remembered last week."

Still massaging the site of the pinch, your confused expression increased. "Can you clarify, my love?"

She huffed incredulously, crossing her arms. The long-forgotten book in her lap. "You're such a cynic!" Accused the girl. " I saw you all secretive with that bitch from your classroom, I'm warning you Y/N, if you ever even think about cheating on me, I'll use the whole list of tortures Nathasha taught me-"

"Wanda, for God's sake." You broke into a long laughter, completely surprised by the sudden subject. She huffed angrily, her pout even bigger. "Hey, princess, look at me."

"I hate it when you call me that."

"You do, huh? Then why do you always get flushed?" You challenge back, smiling at her attempt to hide her own blush. 

Wanda refuses to look at you, however, and you sigh before losing getting tired of the drama and leaning towards her. She reacts immediately, her hands on your shoulders to push you away, but the witch forgets about the comforter entwined around your legs from the night before - her own requirement to sleep cuddled up let it be noted - and when she pushes you onto the floor cushions, she is pulled into her own trap with you.

Your reaction is to burst out laughing, of course; but Wanda is torn between mortification and blind rage.

Until she sniffles softly into your collarbone and you stop laughing immediately, one of her hands going to stroke your back.

"Hey, my love, what's wrong?" You ask worriedly.

Wanda hides her face in your neck, and her voice is muffled by your skin as she tearfully retorts: "I'm a jealous mess, you should find someone who isn't completely insane."

"Wanda, don't be so hard on yourself, these situations are always entertaining." You joke, but she bites your skin hard and you grunt loudly. "Ouch!"

The most apologies you get is a hickey in the same place. 

"Are you done?" You ask, not about the affections but about the whole scene. Wanda nods softly, and you kiss the top of her head, tightening your arms around her. 

The cushions are no bed, but they certainly have their unique comfort with the help of the room's fluffy carpet. You're about to fall asleep when Wanda whispers softly.

"My period is late."

You sigh, without opening your eyes. "Good thing I don't have a cock. Not a real one, anyway."

She pinches you again. "You idiot, I'm just trying to say-"

"That you're PMSing, yes, it's obvious. There's no need to keep attacking me."  You grumble, but Wanda snorts angrily, pulling away to sit down. 

"It's amazing how you can't listen to what I'm saying."

You open your eyes in offense, ready to defend yourself to the blushing girl in front of you. Wait, blushing?

"What are you saying?" You ask worriedly, but your girlfriend grows shy, avoiding your gaze. "Wanda." You insist and instead of answering, she suddenly grabs your wrist. "What...?"

Guiding your hand under her oversized shirt is enough of a hint, but it still makes you laugh heartily. "Jesus, woman, you could have just said you wanted to fuck, you don't need all of that!"

Wanda snorts in embarrassment and pushes your hand away. "You know what, I'll take care of it myself." She stands up, ignoring your protests, and definitely using a bit of magic to torment you and cause the comforters to become harder to get out of. That, or maybe just the insinuation of Wanda playing by herself turns you into a complete mess.

"B-but I want to help-"

"You missed your chance. Good morning to you."

"Wanda!" But she slammed the bedroom door in your face. You chuckled in disbelief.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #marvel fics #holiday season challenge #holiday season fics

[s4toryuu]

12:37 am — gojo satoru; sashisu

gojo satoru refuses to drink his medicine…

reblog to help gojo get better

out of everything you could call satoru, you think dramatic takes the top spot. so when you wake up in the middle of the night, you listen out for what could possibly have waken you up.

“koff! koff! UGH!” you recognized gojo’s voice from the dorm building behind yours.

oh my fucking god. you sighed. that morning, that idiot had to get sent to his dorm because he kept coughing every time yaga spoke. he sneezed and sniffled, so you assumed that he was actually ill and didn’t just decide to up his antics for no reason. besides, he was a little quieter than usual today.

you got up to put on a jacket and practically stomped to gojo’s dorm, where you were met with his open door and geto standing against the door frame.

“satoru, I told you the medicine wouldn’t be as effective later on.” geto sighed. you noticed his socks. they were pastel with characters on them. you ignored it to yell at who probably gave it to him.

“gojo! if you’re gonna cough just cough! you don’t have to yell after!” you said before sliding one of gojo’s slippers. there that idiot was, laying down faced up with arms stiff on his side and his comforter raised up to his chin. “are you playing dead?”

gojo groaned. “guys.” he sniffled. “I think this is it for me. suguru, I always loved you. y/n, I did steal your marshmallows last movie night. shoko—where’s shoko?” he looked up, illness suddenly voided for a second until shoko appears behind you. her dorm is a couple doors from yours after all. the snow-haired drama queen’s head fell back on his pillow and his sickness returned.

“eh, what?” she muttered to him before stepping inside. gojo started coughing again.

“are you contagious?” you asked before shifting away from gojo’s bed. geto took the medicine he got from gojo’s counter and placed it on the latter’s nightstand.

shoko walked over and sat on his bed. she placed her hand on gojo’s forehead before snickering. “you’re burning up. you really are gonna die.” she laughed.

you all chuckled, except gojo who whined again. “can’t you use reverse cursed technique on me shoookooo…”

“nope. I’ve only done it on physical injuries. why won’t you just drink the medicine?” she took the plastic little spoon and wiggled it to gojo’s face for emphasis.

gojo screwed his eyes shut and shook his head like a child. “don’t wanna.” if it wasn’t 12:37am on a school night you might’ve found it adorable.

“you might really die, satoru.” geto shot from the foot of gojo’s bed. he definitely woke up from his coughing and subsequent yelling, seeing as geto’s room is right next to gojo’s.

the next morning after your first class, the three of you gathered in the cafeteria and geto stirred up a plan.

“he’s probably not drinking it because he thinks it’s bitter.” you conclude.

suguru sipped on his tea. “ah, I know. that’s why I got the honey flavor version.”

“how are we gonna force him to drink it? it’s not like we can force feed it to him.” shoko shook her lollipop. you were just glad it wasn’t a cigarette.

“he’ll just turn on his infinity. I think we have to ambush him.” you laughed at the image.

“geto, summon a cursed spirit to hold him down.” shoko joked.

the cold breeze practically slapped you while walking to the dorms. geto was sure your victim was still asleep. he had the spare key when you thought to take off your shoes for maximum stealth. the two followed.

geto stood in front of the door to block the light while you and shoko slithered in. it was dark except for the nightlight by satoru’s night stand. you could make out the important things. the untouched medicine, and gojo sprawled over his bed under his sheets. he faced the left side cuddling a pillow. tissues filled the trash can dragged by his bed and some on the floor. poor kid.

geto tiptoed to the other side of the bed where satoru was faced while shoko prepared the poison. you got in position across geto and stifled a laugh at shoko trying to break the seal as quiet as possible. she tiptoed next to you and nodded to geto.

“satoru” geto called out. “satoru, wake up.”

“sugu…” gojo whined. he didn’t open his eyes. geto gestured for the syrup-filled spoon. shoko handed it to him promptly and again, you stifled a laugh at your plan.

“satoru-kun. aaah,” geto opened his mouth. geto using “-kun” was too funny.

surprisingly, satoru opened his mouth slightly too. what the hell? this wasn’t even part of the plan. suguru took the spoon to satoru’s mouth.

shit, it would probably just spill out with the way he was faced, you realized. you lunged to push satoru’s shoulder to the right so that he would face up. you decided him choking on it was better than it spilling. because that way it would at least get in his mouth.

gojo woke up. he made eye contact with you and immediately tried to get up. he moved his hand to push yours off but you held his shoulders down with your weight and geto got all the syrup in.

“MMGHFHG!” gojo yelled with his mouth closed. he struggled against you, and you gave it 5 seconds before his strength took over and even less before he activated infinity.

“geto!” you called and he took over your hold on sicko’s shoulders.

gojo started kicking, and you straddled his shins.

“swallow!” geto exclaimed as gojo tried to push his hands off. shit, this wouldn’t work.

“geto! get on!” you yelled and geto straddled gojo’s stomach.

“swallow it!” suguru grabbed gojo’s arms and held them against the bed by his head.

“HHNGNGGHH!” satoru shook his head.

“satoru! it’s honey flavored!” geto argued.

shoko laughed and you heard her camera shutter. she stood far enough to snap a picture and you realized what it looked like. you were straddling gojo’s calves while suguru was straddling gojo’s, uh… lower stomach with his hands pinned by his head.

then, as if on queue, the door opened. your heads snapped to the door and you saw your sweet (to you, at least) junior nanami for about .7 seconds before the door closed again.

you flew off of gojo’s calves. “nanami! wait!”

this ended with a lot more stsg than I thought lol

#𝘴𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺𝘶𝘶’𝘴 #gojo satoru #geto suguru #shoko ieiri #sashisu #fluff #crack #jujutsu kaisen #drabble #nanami kento #nanami is traumatized #fanfic #gojo x reader #satosugu

[loveharlow]

just thinking about the motorcycle scene and if TR was in it but her and JJ aren't dating but they've always liked each other and the idea of him dying really makes her realize that she loves him.

“JJ! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?” I shouted to the blonde who was riding alongside Topper’s truck with a dangerous glint in his eye. Topper was driving with Sarah in the passenger seat. Cleo, Pope, Kiara, and I were crowded into the trunk of the vehicle.

“JJ…” Pope uttered, most likely sensing that his friend was about to make a bad decision. A very, very bad decision.

JJ glanced over at us before shaking his head and sucking his teeth. “Top, keep driving!” Was all he said before his bike was distancing itself from the truck, from us.

I whipped my head back and forth between the two idiotic blonde drivers. “Why is he slowing down?” I questioned, heart racing, wind whipping around my face and hair as my hands gripped the edge of the truck as it gained speed down the road. Now is the not the time to make bad calls. “Guys, why the hell is JJ slowing down?!”

“I don’t know, Y/n!” Kie yelled, all four us in the back trying to keep our eyes on JJ’s figure that was growing more distant. We saw his bike stop abruptly in the middle of the road, so much force behind the sudden movement, or lack of, that it lifted its back tire.

“What’s he gonna do?” Cleo inquired. 

“I don’t know.” Pope started, fear in his eyes for his friend that he saw more as a brother. “I don’t think he knows either.” Even from our far away position, we could still see JJ clear enough to catch his movements — his hands picking up a rock as his bike blocked the middle of the road.

“He’s trying to get himself killed…” Kiara mumbled. 

“Or maybe he’s just tryna get rid of the cops.” Topper added semi-optimistically, most likely just thinking of any reason not to turn around and go get him. 

I could’ve sworn my heart dropped to my stomach when I saw JJ rev up his bike engine and start driving towards the blinding cop car, rock clenched tightly before he beamed it at the windshield of the flashing car, causing it to drift slightly off-road.

What the fuck is he thinking?

“Topper, turn around!” I yelled desperately, whipping my head to face Topper and Sarah in the forefront of the vehicle.

I could see Topper's eyes go back and forth between the rearview mirror and the road ahead of him, sputtering before finding the words to respond. “Wha- No! I am not turning this truck around! Do you all just have a death wish!?”

“Topper, just turn the fucking truck around!”

“Not gonna happen!”

I cursed under my breath before turning around to spot JJ once more. Only this time, the cop car had turned around and begun chasing him.

“No, no, no…” I spoke lowly watching the scene unfold before my eyes.

“Topper, stop the truck.” Sarah said firmly. If he didn’t listen to any of us, maybe he’d listen to her.

“No, I’m not stopping the truck.” He scoffed as if it were the most ridiculous idea known to man.

Kie, Pope, and I banged and slapped on the back window, pleading for him to stop the truck. There was no way in hell we were leaving JJ behind. Not tonight. Not ever.

“I’m not going to jail for y’all!” Came Topper’s semi-muffled voice through the glass. It's a little too late for that, asshole. Luckily, after some pleading from Sarah, the truck came to a halt.

“Turn around!” Cleo and Pope exclaimed simultaneously. But the truck hesitated to move. What are they doing? Looking through the window I could see Sarah giving him some sort of pep-talk. Oh my-

I slapped the window so hard the palm of my hand stung like pins and needles, their heads turning quickly and their eyes wide. “We don’t have time for this! Turn the truck around and drive!” Then the screeching of tires was heard, the four of us in the back drifting to one side as Topper spun the car and raced back in the direction of JJ.

After Topper refused to turn left, Sarah took control of the wheel and that’s when we caught sight of him again.

“There he is.” Pope pointed up the road where we could clearly see the flashing red and blue lights and red dirt-bike in front of them, both vehicles going so fast they looked like one big blur. 

“What is he doing?” Kie asked, her voice shaky.

“Turn right!”

I put a hand on my chest as it suddenly became harder to breath. The air passing us by felt cool on my exposed skin and my ears grew hot. Then there was a hand on my shoulder — Cleo.

“Breathe.” She said slowly. “We won’t let anything happen to him. And neither will you.” I took a big gulp of air and nodded, trying to refocus my vision.

“He’s on the overpass…” Sarah said, astonished.

Looking up, I found him easily but there was a car headed straight towards him. One he apparently didn’t see because it was within seconds that JJ’s bike swerved off the road, breaking the rail as it came crashing down.

“JJ!-” I tried to warn even though I knew it would serve no purpose now.

Topper’s truck screeched to a stop as we covered our faces from the debris. 

No. No way.

I hopped out of the truck, the others filing out behind me.

“Jayj!” Kiara yelled, searching mindlessly for our friend who wasn’t there.

All I could do was stare at the bike underneath the tire of the truck, nearly smashed to pieces and no JJ in sight. My eyes burned with tears and my hands balled into fists, fists so tight that my palms burned where my nails were digging into them. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

“Maybe he’s up on the bridge.” Pope suggested. And I don’t know why but his optimism made me angrier.

“His bike is down here!” I said bitterly. “Why the hell would he be up on the bridge?” I spat.

My eyes never left the sight of the destroyed bike, not even when I heard his voice or the familiar heavy scuffling of his boots on the concrete.

“I wish I could say I did that on purpose.” I heard him say, the sound of him dusting something off traveling to my ears. “But that was the gnarliest powerslide I’ve ever done.”

...

“You’re alive!” Pope yelled, and that’s when I allowed my eyes to travel behind me, catching sight of the blonde that I was stupidly in love with standing without a single scratch.

Pope embraced him tightly as they laughed, Topper making some comment about how it was ‘gnarly’ as if this was some fucking joke.

Sarah pushed him before pulling him in for a hug, Kiara with a sad expression as she shook her head at him. “Don’t ever do that again.” She said seriously, but pulled him into his third hug of the night nevertheless.

However, when he was released from her hold, his eyes met mine. He threw his arms out weakly. “What? No, ‘thanks for getting the cops off our asses, JJ’?” 

My eyebrows creased together in the slightest of motions, my head tilting to the side before my feet were dragging me towards him. “Is this funny to you?” I asked lowly, hurt.

“C’mon, Y/n/n.” He started, head rolling on his shoulders.

"No, tell me, is this a joke to you JJ?"

“You should be used to stuff like this by now.” He tried to deflect, placing the hat back on his head.

He barely finished that sentence before I roughly shoved his shoulders, my backpack lifting from my back a little and him stepping back a few feet from the force. “I’ll never get used to the idea of you dying, JJ! But it seems like you already have and I'm not okay with that! Okay?! I'm not...” And that was when the first tear fell, but I couldn’t care less. Or maybe it was that I cared too much.

His face, however, softened at the sight. “Listen, I’m sorry.” He apologized, coming back to stand in front of me and wrapping his arms around my shoulders to pull me into a hug. “Okay? I’m sorry, I-” He stumbled over his words for a moment. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I won't do it again, alright?”

I hesitantly hugged him back before Pope’s voice was heard again. “The pleasantries are nice but we should really get out of here.” 

JJ and I let go of one another, not without a glance that was longer than it should’ve been. 

“Hey!” Came the voice of an angry police officer. “Hey, you kids! Don’t move!” JJ and I bolted, heading for the open doors of the waiting truck. “Stay right there- I said, stay right there!” The officer kept trying to no avail.

When we were inside, JJ and I slammed the door shut just before Topper sped away.

General Taglist — @livlaughquinn

JJ Maybank Taglist — @ronnieissupermegafoxyawesomehot @maybankslover

feedback is appreciated! thanks for reading.

©loveharlow

#jj maybank x reader #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank #jj mayback imagine #jj maybank x y/n #obx jj #ask #jj maybank x you #obx fanfiction #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x fem!reader #jj maybank one shot #jj maybank recs #rudy outer banks #rudy pankow #rudy pankow x reader #obx netflix #obx jj maybank #obx3 #obx x reader

[shadowshrike]

Interfering with Halsin's Portal

It's pretty well known that there are a few situations you can get in where Halsin is well and truly angry rather than disappointed or worried, but I don't think a lot of folks know one of those situations is if you mess with his portal to the Shadowfell. It's a heartwrenching bit of acting. It's also fundamental to the plot of my in-progress fic Girdled Roots, so I figured I might share it with the other Halsin-lovers out there who have never seen it.

EDIT: Please be aware this is datamined dialog and may not be visible in game. It appears to be intended to trigger if the player attempts to enter the portal, which I don't believe is possible in the final game, or at least I couldn't find a way in the most recent version. Sharing this is simply to enjoy the incredible acting and get some plot bunnies moving, not to make any commentary about the game's canon.

Halsin's Initial Reaction

Halsin: No! Stop! Halsin: It's gone... that was our one chance. You've doomed this place to darkness! Halsin: I warned you - told you this was my burden to carry. Why didn't you listen?

The pure rage and despair is visceral. Prior to this, Halsin mentions this portal has been a century in the making, but he's so calm and measured (even upon success) that it is easy to dismiss just how much agony has plagued him as he hoped to make things right. This chance is everything to him. It has guided his every action for a century. It is a hundred years of work, prayer, and guilt to rectify the horrific fate of both land and people that came to nothing because a stranger he trusted refused to listen to him.

The portal breaking is the only time we hear Halsin speak the truth of its importance to him without a hint of emotional regulation. He is wild with pain. This man who is always thoughtful and slow to anger in the face of horror with the wisdom of age and suffering to guide him has become too overwhelmed to show any kindness.

Player response

The player is given several different ways to respond, and Halsin's reaction varies a surprising amount depending on how understandable their reason is. In most cases, he states that he needs to be alone afterward.

Option 1: I'm sorry - I acted on instinct. Halsin: Words won't repair what's been done to this land. Nothing will... I need to be alone.

You can hear the ache in Halsin's voice, but he's somewhat understanding of this response. He projects more sadness than unchecked rage. The player has admitted to making a mistake, and Halsin isn't the type of person who hold onto vengeance when an apology has been made, but he's not naive or people-pleasing enough to say "it's okay" or offer comfort either. The safest thing for everyone is for him to step away to grieve when there is nothing more to be done.

Option 2: I did all the work here - I couldn't just let you take the glory. Halsin: Glory?! There's no glory here. Now there's nothing here - only shadows and the total absence of hope. Halsin:  There is nothing more to be said... I need to be alone.

Pure fury radiates from Halsin's response if the player focuses on the idea of being some grand hero rather than actually caring for the outcome. What the player did was an unforgiveable act, dooming everything that Halsin holds dear, and you have the audacity to complain about not getting glory from it. Again, he steps away, but this feels more like he's doing it because he believes you're worthless to reason with rather than because he needs a moment.

Option 3: I saved your grove - I figured it'd be best if I handled this as well. Halsin: We were this close to healing these lands. Now your arrogance has torn open the wounds once more. Halsin:  There is nothing more to be said... I need to be alone.

Halsin is still frustrated with this response and unmistakably angry, but it's significantly toned down from the idea of wanting to go through the portal for glory. More like he thinks you're a self-important idiot than a truly terrible person.

Specialized player responses

There are also three special responses you can give if you have a particular class or diety.

Druid: I thought my powers were equal to yours. Halsin: It wasn't just power this needed - it was wisdom, understanding. I suffered along with this place for years trying to understand the curse... and it seems I will continue to do so. Halsin:  There is nothing more to be said... I need to be alone.

Interestingly, he responds much more intensely to a druid than some of the other player choices. It might be in part because he feels like a druid should know better. He lectures the player like an Archdruid would initiates in his Grove, alternating between angry and explanatory, trying to get the player to understand why they were wrong and the sheer magnitude of their error. He ultimately ends in a much more resigned place here rather than personally resentful. Like a father-figure being forced through further life trials because of a child's foolish indiscretion. Frustrating, but inevitable.

Selunite: I trusted in Selûne to guide me through the shadows. Halsin: My friend - I wish you had trusted in me.

This is probably Halsin's most simple response with the least vitriol. He fully understands this answer, even if he's disappointed by it. The fact he calls the player 'friend' suggests a certain tired acceptance of this being a natural behavior for a Selunite trying to do good. We don't see this calm in other responses where Halsin was surprised by the player's choice.

Sharran: The Shadowfell is no place for non-believers - I couldn't allow you to soil it. Halsin: I should never have trusted an ally of the Dark Lady.

If you've ever taken Halsin along with Shadowheart in Act 2, then you know he is absolutely scathing toward her and her faith. He likely isn't as angry if a Sharran breaks the portal because it is utterly predictable. It merely confirms a truth he already knew and talked himself out of. That Sharrans cannot be fully trusted in matters of their goddess, even if one was good enough to rescue his people from the goblins.

#halsin #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #analysis

[hannie-dul-set]

THE BOY WHO CRIED WOLF.

p — CHOI BEOMGYU x gn! reader. g — humor, fluff. w — swearing, beomgyu is embarrassing but that's nothing new with my recent works. 1.6k words.

note — inspired by this post. i'm supposed to be studying rn.

everyone in your department knows that choi beomgyu is not to be trusted.

no, it’s not like he scams people with overpriced products on the university buy and sell forum. he doesn’t give you wrong answers during tests to fuck you over. he isn’t seeing multiple people at once behind their backs like a shitty fuckboy, either.

but when choi beomgyu tells you that there’s a buy one take one promo at the coffee shop near campus, you should probably think twice before rallying your friends over because of your shared coffee addiction. it’s the reason why hueningkai showed up to a department party last month wearing a penguin costume when the theme was business-casual. it’s the reason why choi yeonjun sends a string of curses to the group chat bi-weekly because he’s told that there’s a quiz today, only to arrive at an empty classroom.

it’s all harmless. it’s all fun and games and for a good laugh— but nevertheless, everyone knows to think twice before listening to the honeyed words that fall from choi beomgyu’s mouth. the problem is, the bastard is charismatic and he knows it. “he’s weaponizing his pretty face like a motherfucking gun,” you mentioned to soobin one time. so even if people are ware that he’s slimy little bitch that likes to fuck around a lot, they still listen to what he says. even when in doubt.

well, they’re all fucking stupid.

“hey, let’s compare hand sizes!”

and you refuse to be branded as a gullible idiot, too.

“what?”

the sandwich you’re having for lunch suddenly feels dry on your tongue. “gimme your hand,” he insists, and you narrow your eyes at him. what...what the fuck is this bastard trying to do? “i wanna know whose is bigger.”

now, that’s a familiar line. it almost made your heart flutter when he’s batting his eyes at you so expectantly with that pretty face of his from across the cafeteria table, the fingers of his right palm outstretched and ready to catch yours upon your consent.

almost. but there’s no way in hell you’re humoring his dumb ass.

“sure,” you respond. and, after wiping your lips with a napkin, offer out your open palm for him in the air.

his face brightens— a tiny smile pulling at his lips.

beomgyu reaches out for your hand. before he can press his palms against yours, you quickly fold it into a middle finger.

it’s almost funny how his expression quickly tumbles into despair.

“eat shit, motherfucker.”

you clean up your tray and leave your dumbfounded friend behind. you have no idea what his intentions with that was, but you aren’t risking making a fool out of yourself at the suggestion that beomgyu might be trying to (pathetically) hit on you. he’s probably just concocting some more mischief— especially since you’re one of the people he has yet to victimize with his dumb jokes.

so you’re not surprised when he makes another attempt. but what you don’t understand is why he keeps trying to hold your hand.

“booooring. this class is so boring.”

he’s sitting next to you inside the lecture hall. so far, not that out of the ordinary. you do your best to catch up with your professor’s discussion, but from the corner of your eyes you see beomgyu finally giving up and melting his head into the desk, burying his face into his arms. “this sucks,” he muffles, before craning his head and you can feel him staring at you from below. “aren’t you bored?”

“i’m trying to pay attention, beomgyu.”

“pay attention to me,” he whines. “i’m bored. let me scribble on your hand to pass—”

“please shut the fuck up.”

at some point, it’s starting to confuse you more than annoy you. all signs lead to a boy simply trying to get the attention of his crush, but this is choi beomgyu you’re talking about. you just can’t trust him. not even when he always tries to follow you around in the hallways. not even when he drops a warm latte at your desk every 7AM class.

“i know how to do palm reading. do you wanna—”

“i’m not superstitious,” you immediately put up your shield to his spear. “thanks for the coffee.”

you really don’t understand him.

“there was a hit and run incident yesterday. you should hold onto me just to be—”

“red light. let’s go.”

you seriously don’t fucking get him.

“aaaah! i’m falling! grab my hand, i’m falling to my death!”

what the hell is he trying to do?!

“beomgyu, it’s a four-foot deep pool,” you deadpan, face flushed and it’s definitely not just from the heat of the sun. he perishes into the water with a splash. my god, what’s going on with him? you shake your head, trying to ward off an incoming headache. 

really. if this wasn’t beomgyu doing this shit, you’d be a hundred-percent convinced that he’s trying to make a move on you. that he likes you and is trying his stupidest to catch your attention. but it is beomgyu, and everyone knows he can’t be trusted unless you want to be laughed at. being this week’s joke isn’t on your bucket list. so no matter how many more attempts he’s going to make, you will be impenetrable. you will not be fooled.

“hey.”

that is until he shows up all serious in front of your classroom the next week. 

students are pouring out from the door, and you’re a heavy obstacle from their rush to go home because for some reason, choi beomgyu is there— also obstructing the traffic flow in the hallway. 

“what is it now?” you cross your arms, narrowing your eyes at the worryingly large bouquet he has in his arms. “are your hands cold? do you want me to hold them to keep you warm?”

“that would be nice,” he replies. you seriously want to hit him. “but, no. that’s not what i’m here for. i decided that it might be best to stop asking for your hand because you might actually punch me this time.” this is a public area, you’d like to remind him. and that dangerously constructed statement of his is eliciting murmurs from the passersby surrounding you. you feel your face flush. 

“if you phrase it like that, people are going to get the wrong idea.”

“let them misunderstand, i don’t really care,” he shrugs. “what i care about is clearing up the misunderstanding between you and me. i don’t think we’ve been on the same page for the past few weeks.”

you furrow your brows. “what are you getting at?”

“taehyun told me that you think i’ve just been fucking around with you,” he says. “and i have to admit that i definitely have nothing to blame but myself and my reputation. but i want to tell you that i have been seriously, seriously serious about you.”

“sure,” you snort. “i definitely trust you, beomgyu.”

he frowns. “dammit, taehyun was right. you really don’t trust me.”

what did he expect? for the past year and a half that you’ve known him, he’s been nothing but unserious and troublesome. beomgyu brings mischief wherever he goes and you don’t want to make a misstep and be caught in that shitstorm— not even when your heart is racing a little too fast for comfort at the moment. not even when those flowers actually look really pretty.

“but i expected this. i’ve come prepared,” beomgyu tells you. what is it this time? you exhale. had he been normal, you might’ve trusted him at his first attempt to shoot his shot with you. “i’ve come to the conclusion that in order to get your trust, i need to stop messing around with everyone. and that begins with being completely, absolutely, unapologetically honest.”

again, this is a public area. people are staring and you’re starting to get a bad feeling.

“i’m in love with you.”

holy shit.

“i’ve been in love with you ever since taehyun introduced us to each other, i think.”

there’s fire somewhere. 

“that was over a year ago!”

that somewhere is your face.

“yeah, and?” he raises a brow. “that means i’ve liked you for over a year. i can do the math. i’m not stupid.” you want to throw yourself into a ditch and die.

“beomgyu, tell me you’re kidding.” not even your hands can fan out the inferno overtaking your face right now. somehow, there’s a lot more people around you than you remember, and while you’re suffering from a sudden onslaught of unprovoked feelings, beomgyu looks relatively unfazed. “you can’t be serious. if you’ve liked me for that long, then why haven’t you done anything until recently?!”

“funny story,” he starts. there is nothing funny about this at all. “i didn’t think i had a chance until soobin hyung told me you thought i was pretty the other week.”

soobin, that fucking rat. 

the context wasn’t even a positive one! you said he was using his pretty face for evil!

“i—” 

like what he’s doing now.

the words get stuck in your throat when you notice that beomgyu actually looks earnest. he’s not smiling or laughing— but patiently waiting for you to say something in response. your mouth is dry. your ribcage is shaking. it doesn’t fucking help that there’s three dozen people watching the scene unfold. couldn’t he have chosen a more appropriate place to pour his fucking heart out?

“you know what, let’s go.”

it’s an act of impulse. you quickly grab him by the hand and lead him away from the crowded hallway with hurried steps. “damn,” he says, trailing from behind you. “i didn’t have to try and convince you this time.”

what’s ironic is that this is the most honest you’ve ever felt of him. his palms are clammy and slipping through your fingers. he’s making jokes, but his desperate squeeze is telling you more than what he’s actually saying. “everyone knows to think twice before listening to me. but everyone also now knows that i’m pretty much in love with you, so that’s a win for me.”

THE BOY WHO CRIED WOLF. © hannie-dul-set, 2023.

#allex stop writing pathetic men challenge: failed #tomorrow x together x reader #txt x reader #choi beomgyu x reader #beomgyu x reader #txt beomgyu x reader #tomorrow x together x you #txt x you #choi beomgyu x you #beomgyu x you #tomorrow x together imagines #txt imagines #choi beomgyu imagines #beomgyu imagines #tomorrow x together scenarios #txt scenarios #choi beomgyu scenarios #beomgyu scenarios

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Steve and Chrissy as two internet-famous chefs/bakers, Steve with a channel focusing on (not always) easy homemade and nutritious meals, Chrissy with a baking channel full of body positivity to spite her mom.

They both get invited to something like Phoning It In from the Try Guys - a baking/cooking competition where they have to guide the actual chefs only through a pay phone. As the TG's show says: "the mind of a chef paired with the hands of an idiot". And the idiots in question are their best friends - Robin and Eddie. Which shouldn't be that bad, but then...they actually have to swap them. And they can't tell them what they're making.

It's a holiday episode so the theme is gingerbread.

Steve is slumped in the phone booth, sometimes covering the receiver and asking Chrisy why, why would her best friend refuse to measure ingredients in anything more precise than "a bit", "a bit more", "kinda enough", "oooh might be a bit too much" and "a fuckton".

Chrissy tries very hard to explain to Robin that artistic expression is an amazing thing, but hot sauce and gingerbread might be too artistic for the judges. Robin disagrees. Chrissy pleads with her and eventually talks Robin into just including some chilli flakes in her batter and not the hot sauce as a topping.

Eddie spends half of the prep time complaining to Steve that a gingerbread house is lame, it should have been a gingerbread castle. Robin agrees.

Robin deciding to give her tiny gingerbread men flannel shirts and spending way too much on decorating them. She runs out of time very soon and just writes "THIS IS FLANEL" into a shirt-shaped blob.

Steve and Eddie shamelessly flirting despite having never met each other and then threatening violence in equal measure to get the other one do what they want. "I bet your eyes are more beautiful than the entire sky full of stars Stevie, also I might have dropped one extra spoon of spices into the gloopy thingy and I don't want to get my hands more dirty than they are so I'll just leave it in-" "Eds, you vile seductress, your voice could charm many a seaman but if you don't get that spicy glob out of the batter I swear I will shave your head."

Robin somehow going from following the instructions into a full rambling mode and before they know it, she's just cutting hipster-shaped gingerbread flanelmen and telling Chrissy nearly her full life story, basically turning the prep into a therapy session. Chrissy listens and nods and just sometimes interjects with "people can be such jerks just because you're different, can you just quickly check that the temperature is still the same? Thank you Robs, now back to that asshole in your uni class-"

In the end, they finally meet at the judging table and present their work, bullshitting their way through explanations of many choices that were made (because the two actual chefs are not permitted to speak, only the great minds).

Steve almost sobs when he sees piped (and very melted) bats on toothpicks around the gingerbread castle, because of course Eddie made a castle. "I meant for that to happen, for the shock value" he announces when one of the bats starts a domino effect and knocks down the rest.

Chrissy's smile gets a little bit stiff when she sees attempted man buns on the gingerbread men's heads - ones which have unfortunately melted and they now have flowing ponytails. Slightly burned.

Steve confidently claims that the reason why his gingerbread house is black and has spires is because his little brother adores Dungeons and Dragons and he wanted to give him a cool prop for the final encounter with the big evil. When the castle crumbles because Eddie didn't bake it long enough, Steve just dramatically stands up and announces that the evil warlock has been defeated. Eddie almost faints behind the screen and unceremoniously asks Robin if that gem of a man is taken.

Chrissy explains how the gingerbread men are wearing flanel in honor of her best friend's uncle who is the flanel overlord. When the judges bite into the figures and taste the chilli flakes, Chrissy earnestly tells them that Eddie's uncle is a man with hidden depths and spicy personality (Eddie chokes on his own tongue at that) and Robin was kind enough to reflect that.

In the end, it doesn't matter who won. Eddie asks Steve (after he tastes the gingerbread bat, gingerbat) if he's still about to shave his head and Steve says it would be a shame, but he can make it up to him by inviting him for coffee. Robin awkwardly thanks Chrissy for listening to her and Chrissy admits she loved her rambling, that she hates it when it's quiet.

It all ends well (except for the gingerbread).

#steddie #buckingham #steddie au #buckingham au #steve harrington #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #robin buckley

[rorywritesjunk]

Pampering Buggy

A fic of you pampering Buggy after he has a frustrating day.

Rating: I'd say PG-13 for swearing and some innuendos. Pairing: Buggy x You (no y/n, etc like that) Warnings: Again, some innuendos. Insecure!Buggy. One brief mention of being afraid of your partner. Mostly this is just Insecure!Buggy. More OPLA inspired since Buggy has them eyes that pop like firecrackers. Word Count: 2,300. A/N: Enjoy! This is my first posted fic in a long time, and my first time posting it in this kind of POV. It's not really edited either.

You knew something was up when you saw Cabaji first, the pirate locking eyes with you as he jerked his head in the direction of Buggy and dragged his finger across his throat in a gruesome motion. You winced and nodded, understanding that you were about to get a moody boyfriend in a few minutes. 

Sure enough, the captain came storming up to you a few minutes later. You remained calm, crossing your arms over your chest but staying relaxed as he stood in front of you, mimicking your stance. 

“Hey.” You spoke calmly, like you would to a wild animal. He could still sometimes be a bit unpredictable. “Seems like maybe you’ve had a rough day.”

“Rough day?” He shot back. “I work with a bunch of idiots who can’t seem to do anything right! It’s not like we haven’t pillaged a town before, but you wouldn’t know that by how every one of them fucked something up!”

You were used to these outbursts by now. Sure, the first time he had one it terrified you. You thought he was going to hurt you or something, but after a point you learned how to handle him. Some days required his favorite meal, some days a few drinks, and some days sex. Today, though, you knew it was something different that he needed. It rarely happened, but you knew what to do.

“Well, let’s go wash the day off then.” You replied softly with a smile, holding your hand out to him. The crew was already gone, leaving the two of you alone. You knew they didn’t want to potentially face Buggy’s wrath. “I have one of those fizzy bombs for the bath that you like, and a new mask for your face.”

It was adorable how he perked up at the word ‘bomb’, even if it was just a scented fizzy bath experience, but you knew he enjoyed relaxing in them. He insisted his crew never learn about this because he didn’t want them to think he was getting soft or something with having you around, and you never told the crew, but how else would you get these things? You didn’t leave the tent that often, and really, you asked Cabaji once and surprisingly he listened to your request to get you the things you needed. 

Buggy looked at your hand and took it, grumbling softly as you led him back to his quarters. This kind of day required pampering. You had suggested this to him once after he refused food, alcohol, and sex. In a moment of frustration you asked if he just wanted to drown in the damn bathtub and he perked up. As long as you didn’t use sea water everything was fine. You had never seen him so relaxed and you gradually incorporated face masks, the fizzy bombs, and even brushing his hair for him while he relaxed. 

Once you were both in your shared room, you shut and locked the door. The crew knew better than to barge in, but you knew Buggy would feel humiliated if his crew saw him in the tub with a pink face mask on and a crown braid while he soaked in lavender scented water. You didn’t want that for him so the door always remained locked. If the crew needed something then they would knock.

Buggy moved to the end of the bed and sat down to remove his boots. He was still upset, you knew because he wasn’t even trying to unlace his boots as he tried to force his boots off. You went to start the bath water, letting the tub fill up with hot water. Once it started filling up, you went over to rescue him from his clothes. Without a word you knelt in front of him and started unlacing his boots for him. He looked ready to protest, he didn’t need this kind of help, but one look from you and he kept his mouth shut. 

You took his boots off and set them aside before pulling off his socks. You noted they were getting holes in them, so you set them aside to add them to your mend pile. He stood up to and undid his pants, winking at you while you remained on your knees in front of him. You patted his knee before getting back up. 

“Bath first.” You told him; he pouted. You didn’t give in and helped slide his jacket off his shoulders and down his arms before he let his pants drop to the floor. He stepped out of them while you set the jacket on the bed. You helped unbutton his front. He was perfectly capable of undressing himself, you both knew this, but you wanted him to do as little as possible. You wanted to take care of him, to let him know you were there for him, and that you loved him. The little gestures like removing his shoes, helping him with his jacket, even mending his socks showed him how much you cared for him.

It definitely took him a while to get used to that kind of love language. 

Once he was finally naked, you grabbed his hand and led him over to the tub. Before you could say anything, he wrapped his arms around you, letting his chin rest on the top of your head. You looked up at him, reaching up to stroke his cheek with the back of your hand slowly.

“Get in the tub, Buggy.” You told him gently. “The water should be ready.” 

He nodded and stepped into the tub while you reached over to turn the faucet off. He sank into the water, letting his head rest along the edge while he bent his knees to accommodate his height better. You wished you had a bigger tub. You handed him the fizzy bomb, knowing he’d get more joy out of it if he was the one to drop it in the tub. He held it up high before letting it drop down, a smirk on his face as water splashed out at you. 

“Better take that top off, babe.” He said as he closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. It was a peppermint scented fizzy bomb this time. It felt soothing already. “I can see through your shirt already.”

You just shook your head as you went to his vanity to retrieve a washcloth, cleanser, and the face mask. He didn’t really like having the face paint removed, but you insisted the facemask would feel better on a clean face, so he allowed you to do it. You dipped the water in the tub as the water turned blue and sparkly and gently ran it over Buggy’s face. He winced at first and you waited. You never asked why he did that when you did this, you knew he’d tell you if he wanted. He took a deep breath and exhaled, nodding for you to continue. 

You never rushed this. You took your time removing as much of the face paint as possible with the washcloth, running it along his cheeks, lips, and his eyes while always being careful around his nose.  He sighed deeply as he opened his eyes to look at you. You smiled at him as you squirted some of the cleanser onto your fingers and massaged it onto his face. This stuff always took the makeup off, no matter how thick or old it was. He leaned into your touch, humming contently as you worked the cleanser around his eyes carefully. You used the washcloth to wipe it away, smiling when you saw his bare face. 

He opened his eyes and looked up at you. You swallowed heavily as you looked into his eyes. Damn, they always caught you off guard with how beautiful they were. You wanted to kiss him, to get in the tub with him right then and just stare into his eyes for the rest of the night, but this wasn’t about you, this was about him. Instead, you caressed his cheek gently before grabbing the container for the new face mask.

“You want this, right?” You asked as you held it up. He nodded and closed his eyes once again. You opened it and scooped your fingers into the bright green mixture. He liked it thick on his face, which you were happy to do. He kept his eyes closed as you started on his cheeks, rubbing the mixture thick onto his skin. Buggy leaned into your touch, following the movements of your hand. You smiled, finding him to be very cat-like in that moment, wanting to be touched. You’d never tell him you’d compare him to a cat, however. 

“How are you holding up, Buggy?” You asked as you caked the mask onto his forehead and chin. He could only sigh in response. “Okay, good, now… do you want me to rub some of this stuff on your nose?”

He opened his eyes once again and looked at you. He was thinking it over for a moment before nodding. You were gentle, using your fingertips to massage it all over his bright red nose. You made the mistake of touching his nose without asking the first time you used a face mask on him, and the way he had reacted made you ask every time. He didn’t want to think of his nose or of you acknowledging it, ever, but it was something he had to live with.

You didn’t rush. You didn’t want him to think you were disgusted by it and not want to touch it. You weren’t at all. You found it endearing, and while it caught you off guard the first time you saw him, it definitely was one of your favorite things about him.

You finally finished with his face and dipped your fingers into the water above his shoulders to clean them off. “Hair next?”

“Please.” He mumbled as he started to sink into the tub. You reached in and pulled him back up. You needed to be able to read his head better, and you really didn’t want him to detach it from his body while in the tub. He did it once and it freaked you out.

You removed the bandana and ran your fingers through the bright blue locks, humming in appreciation as you admired the color. Absolutely gorgeous. You made sure to get any tangles or snarls out with your fingers first before running the brush through it. Once you were certain all was well, you picked up the hairbrush and began to run it through his hair in sections. This was your favorite part of the whole pampering. You loved tending to his hair, and he trusted you to do it. You often tried different braid styles on him, from three strand, five strand, fish tail, and his favorite, which was a crown braid. He liked having his hair up like that while he was in bed with you as it kept his hair out of his face and your face. You didn’t ask what style he wanted, you would just do the crown braid again. 

The brush went right through his hair with no issue. He tilted his head back, allowing just a bit more access to the top of his head. You raised yourself up on your knees and held his head in your hands while you kissed his hairline above his forehead, not wanting a mouthful of the face mask. He smirked and cracked an eye open to look at you.

“Can’t keep your hands off me, can you?” He teased. You laughed softly and kissed him again.

“I’ve had my hands on you since you came home, Buggy.” You reminded him with a smile. “And no doubt I’ll have my hands on you again after you get out of that bath.”

He smirked and settled back into the tub once more. He was plotting something, that much you could tell. It would either end with you fully clothed in the bathtub or being thrown onto the bed once he got out of the tub. You needed to be ready for either scenario.

You sectioned his hair once again and began working on the braid. It didn’t take long to get his hair wrapped around his head and tucked into place. He didn’t want bobby pins or clips, insisting they poked him too much, so you did your best to keep it tucked into his hair on its own. By the time you wake up tomorrow, no doubt half of it will be undone and he’ll whine about needing his hair fixed. You would fix it in a heartbeat.

This was when you had to be wary of him as you stood up. His Devil Fruit ability always caught you off guard when he knew you were done. He didn’t want it to end, so you kept your eyes on him as you began to remove your own clothes. You knew either way you were going to end up naked tonight, and you really didn’t want your clothes soaked.

You set your clothes away from the tub before coming up behind him and tapping him on the shoulder. He looked up at you and sat up, scooting closer to the other end of the tub to allow you to climb in behind him. Once you were settled, you pulled him back to let his head rest against your chest. He crossed his arms over his own chest and you grabbed hold of his hands, locking your fingers together as you pressed your lips to his earlobe.

“I love you, Buggy.”

“I know.” He mumbled. And, though you almost missed him saying it, he replied with, “I love you too.”

#buggy the clown #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader #buggy the clown x you #buggy x you #one piece fic #one piece live action fic #opla fic #opla buggy #opla buggy the clown

[zaimta]

Hey, can i request some friends to lovers relationship headcannons for Gray, Natsu and Loke from Fairy Tail with and fem!reader please

彡FRIENDS TO LOVERS

a/n- the crazy thing is this is a trope that would work for them the best, can you tell loke is my fave i went crazy on his

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

GRAY

unfortunately for you since y’all are friends he always walkin around in his drawls, he simply does not care

he makes fun of you to no end, and don’t let you talk about something he could care less about either

“shh shh wait you hear that y/n?” he cups his ear “i don’t hear anything??” “you see because that’s the sound of someone who gives a fuck.” you rose a brow “i don’t hear any- oh.”

he thinks he’s so funny

he’s actually thee worst person to go to for relationship advice, if he openly does not like the person you’re dating and you come to him about your problems he’s like “break up with them” with no type of hesitation

at some point, you had to stop goin to him for relationship advice and only talk to him for a good rant

even if y’all are real tight he won’t tell you about ur, until he goes to that moon island and the memories resurface for him, then he’ll tell you all about it

but he’s not a big sentimental guy so it’s a little hard for him but you’re glad to know he could trust you

when he catches feelings for you he denies it terribly, he could catch himself starin at you too long and he snaps his neck in the other direction with a quickness

and don’t let anyone mention it either because it becomes even more obvious

“what are you talking about?? me and y/n? nah we’re just friends…” he says while watching you laugh with your friends with a smile

refuses to ask anyone for advice, he hopes to suffer quietly and move on

he’s the type to confess on accident, probably during a quest and you almost get hurt really bad and he saves you, you try to brush it off n make a joke out of it and he gets mad at you for it

“you could have died back there y/n. do you have any idea how that would have affected us at the guild?! how it would affect me!?” he sighs before continuing “you drive me so damn crazy you know that? i can’t live without you.”

he indirectly confesses to you with that and y’all are basically dating

unsurprisingly he acts the exact same, the only thing that changes is the fact that if he teases you too much you can shut him up with a kiss and he’s always like “oh?”, he is very aware of his effect on you and will continue to annoy you for more kisses

when he strips down it’s way more annoying than when y’all were just friends because he teases you about it

“are y’a that crazy about me that you’re embarrassed y/n?”

a good hit upside the head will do the trick just fine though

he still won’t be able to open up about things easily though, after years of constantly trying to brush things off it doesn’t come naturally to him, but he appreciates that you’re there to listen

NATSU

this trope was made for him actually

as his friend he would always drag you along to do all kinds of shit, he drags you along on quests 24/7 and trusts you to watch his back

if he starts a fight in the guild he always comes over to you smiling like an idiot whether he won or lost, constantly asking if you saw the new move he did or how cool he looked doin it

he’s at your house more than his own, he lives to annoy you first thing in the morning, he swears it’s funny but it’s not so funny anymore when he gets rocked for playing too much

he talks to you about igneel from time to time when something reminds him of his father or when he thinks of him just cause and he always tells you that igneel would love you if the two of you would meet each other

he’s not shy about his feelings towards you, he’s kinda obvious about them but not obnoxiously obvious about it, it’s clear to everyone else but not you because that’s just how he is

he would be around you more but it wouldn’t feel new because he was already around 24/7, but he would become slightly more touchy like throwing his arm around your shoulders n junk

he compliments you more too

“hey y/n! lookin good!”

eventually, y’all start jokingly flirting with each other, it goes on for a good while until you catch feelings. you try to ease up on the flirting but he keeps going so you admit that the flirting is getting to you and admit that you can’t flirt with him anymore if it’s not real and he says

“wait i thought we were already dating?”

once y’all are official things are more clear between the two of you, he screams “fun dates” guy so he loves going to nearby fairs with you on dates

he loves eating the food there and having you try some of the food

nap dates could be his thing too, you would have to talk him into it because staying still for long periods of time aint his thing, but when he comes over and he’s really tired he just wordlessly drags you into your bedroom and collapses on you and falls asleep immediately, run your fingers through his hair he loves that

his kisses have playful energy to them, you can feel him smiling into the kiss and it’s the cutest thing ever

when he tells you about igneel it’s different from when y’all were just friends, he talks about you meeting him, and him showing you off to his father knowing that he would love you as much as he does

LOKE

y'all would be real close, when he was interested in he would tell you immediately which happened literally every day, he would be like

"hey you see that girl over there? i think I'm gonna go talk to her"

and you would never be able to talk him out of it either

but at the same time, he would keep certain things from you like him being a celestial spirit, he was planning to never tell you about it till his time was up, as he feels his time fading he's filled with regret, instead of telling you how he felt he just ignored his feelings with other women and in the end he wasn't even able to tell you that he loved you

when lucy makes a contract with him, she insists that he goes and confesses his feelings for you

"we all know loke, y/n might not have noticed but we see the way you look at her…and ironically you don’t see the way she looks at you either” his eyes widen, and lucy extends her hand to him “go get her”

his confession is the sweetest thing ever

with encouragement from lucy, he wasted no time running back to the guild, he almost tripped a couple times from the brute force of his start but he didn’t care he needed to see you. he burst into the guild hall out of breath “where is y/n?!” he shouted. the other guild members crowed around loke wondering what happened, asking him about his new look, and wondering why he ran out of the guild earlier “there’s no time for that dammit where is y/n?” cana spoke over the crowd “she’s on her way home to i would go get her now before she moves on if i were you!”

he started running once again by the time he found you, you were a few steps from your house before he shouted “y/n!!” causing you to stop in your tracks at the sound of his voice “loke?” he ran up to you and sweeped you into a hug, he hugged you so tight as if you were going to disappear “i won’t leave you like that again i promise.”

the two of you share a kiss and he tells you everything, he talks about him being a celestial spirit, he tells you ab the previous wizard he made a contract with and why he made up the identity “loke”

from there he tells you his real name, and every time you say it he gets butterflies

as for y’all’s relationship he’s often out of the celestial world hanging out with you on days he’s not on lucy’s schedule

out of respect for lucy y’all never have anything planned on the days he’s contracted, and out of respect she doesn’t call him when she knows y’all are busy, she is y’all’s biggest supporter

when he’s seen around the guild he’s normally seen with you close by, his arm will always be around you one way or another whether it’s your shoulder or waist it’s gonna be there

as the king of the zodiacs, he often calls you “my queen”

he seems like the beach date type, but not during the day during the night time so y’all can see the stars, he points out his constellation

“if there’s ever a time i’m not able to be with you the stars will always be by your side.”

#gray x reader #natsu x reader #loke x reader #fairy tail x reader #gray fullbuster x reader #natsu dragneel x reader #fairy tail x y/n #fairy tail x you #gray x you #gray x y/n #natsu x you #nastu x y/n #loke x you #loke x y/n #gray fullbuster x you #gray fullbuster x y/n #natsu dragneel x you #natsu dragneel x y/n #fairy tail fluff #fairy tail headcanons

[mactavishwritings]

Hello! I have a request for poly!141 + Keegan maybe where their wife(if you’re okay with fem!reader) is pregnant and she comes to base with food for them but she can’t get past the gates bc they won’t let her past and she calls price and they all come out pissed before bringing the reader inside and they eat together. And maybe the reader gives them all a little note of the baby’s gender(u can pick) just a lot of fluff.♥️

I'm so mad. i started this request earlier today, but my work redid the wifi so i lost my draft :( oh well

so i took this and ran w it omg

You were growing more and more frustrated, a pounding headache taking the forefront of your mind. The soldier who was standing guard, minding the gate, refused to scan your pass. The main issue was that your visitor pass was expired. You had already renewed it and were just waiting for the new one to come in the mail. John assured you that you could still use the old one, that all they had to do was scan the old one and it'll prompt for the new, updated pass.

The soldier refused to even listen to you, just telling you to get off the base. You were damn near about to stomp your foot like a child, feeling completely helpless. "Just humor me and scan the damn pass!" You shoved your pass towards the man, who took a step back from you. You were completely done. You had planned on going on base to reveal the gender to your boys. You just wanted to get in and to them. You angrily grabbed your phone and the soldier sighed. "Jesus I knew pregnancy affected a woman's emotions, but I didn't know it would affect her intelligence!"

Your eye twitched and just smiled tightly at the man. "Just give me one moment." You nodded as you immediately dialed John. "Hey baby, what's up?" You could hear the boys in the background and it helped your mood a bit. "My darling. Can you do me a favor and come sponsor me? They won't let me on." You heard him chuckle to himself and it sat weird with you. "What do you mean? Just have them scan your pass. The system will say you're valid." John clearly had a smile on his face and didn't understand what the issue was. "That's what I thought, however, this soldier guarding the gate said that wasn't possible. But as this soldier said, pregnancy affects a woman's intelligence so what do I know?" The laughter in the background immediately went silent and you just heard breathing. "Stay there. We're coming."

You waited for John, smiling at the soldier, who was on the verge of kicking you off base completely. You saw John's black car roll up at a speed that even made you nervous. You shifted in your seat as you watched John step out of the now parked car and all the other three boys stepped out, but stayed by John's car. John calmly walked towards the gate and the soldier immediately stood at attention, saluting John. He nodded at the man before snatching the scanner out of his hand. "Watch this, ya fuckin' dumbass," John stated before holding his hand out for your pass. You happily handed it over and John scanned it himself. The gun beeped for a moment before showing a green check mark. You were clear to enter the base.

After you smiled sweetly as the soldier mumbled an apology, you followed John's car as the boys drove back to their barracks. The base was huge, you could easily see yourself getting lost if not for the boys in front of you. You pulled into the parking spot reserved for expecting mothers and Simon was quick to run over to help you out of the car. "Let's get you in mama." Simon kissed your head and Johnny pulled the cake from your backseat.

"You make this yourself, Chridhe?" Johnny hummed, coming to kiss your hand before rushing inside as Kyle held the door open for all of you. John entered after you and Simon and they all brought you down to their rec room. You sighed, finally happy to be able to sit down. "That idiot up front was a dick." You mumbled and groaned, rubbing your head. "Said some dumbass shit." You rolled your eyes and sat forward looking up toward the boys.

"You got through it, babe." Kyle placed a kiss on your forehead and smiled. "I'm ready to know what we're having." All the boys nodded in agreement and you immediately got excited. "Oh yeah! Let's cut into this cake." You grabbed a knife and told the boys to close their eyes. You cut them all slices and placed a piece in front of them. "Okay ready? Open."

You had tears in your eyes as the boys looked down at the cake to expose the blue filling inside. Johnny and Kyle both jumped up with joy and John laughed loudly. Simon reached out to hold your hand tightly as Johnny and Kyle both wrapped you up in their arms.

"I'm so happy!" You squealed, tears rolling down your face. "Thank you so much, woman." John grabbed the sides of your face and kissed your nose lightly.

You felt completely content, ready to share this moment for the rest of your life with these men.

#ask #winter speaks #ghost x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader #price x reader #poly!141 x reader #poly cod x reader #cod mw2 x reader #ghost #soap #price #gaz #cod fluff #call of duty x reader #cod x you #cod x reader

[bingwriterxo]

drunk

pairing: tara carpenter x freeman!reader

summary: in which you've turned to drinking as a coping mechanism

warnings: talks of stabbing, mentions of throwing up

word count: 1600+

scream 5 spoilers! read at your own risk!

Heavy and rushed knocks on the front door of the apartment drew Tara from sleep. She sat up in her bed with bated breath and turned on her beside lamp as she heard Sam flick her own light on in the bedroom next to hers. There was the sound of shuffling footsteps, her sister's voice as she called out, "Who is it?", muffled noise as whoever was standing out in the hall answered, and then the clinking of locks being undone and the squeak of the door opening. 

Tara waited for a few moments, released the breath she was holding, and wondered if she'd have to get out of bed next. Her question was answered when Sam yelled, "Tara! Can you come in here?"

She slipped out of bed quickly, feet soft against the wood floor, and padded out into the living room. She was greeted by the sight of Sam, who was standing in the middle of the room with her arms crossed over her chest, and Mindy and Chad, who were looking at her with worried eyes.

"What's going on?" she asked. 

"Tara!" The voice startled her as it came from none of the three people she was staring at, and she ventured farther into the room until she could see over the back of the couch. You were lying there, a wide grin on your face at the sight of the brunette and your arms wide open, like you were expecting her to just lay down right on top of you. "Hi, baby!" you greeted. 

She smiled. "Hi, Y/N."

"She's, like, really fucked up right now," Chad said, and Tara whipped her head up, staring at him with wide eyes. 

"What do you mean 'she's fucked up right now'?"

"He means," Mindy began, causing Tara's attention to fall on her instead, "that she showed up at my dorm like half an hour ago looking for you. She was blubbering like an idiot because she missed you but forgot how to get to your apartment." The girl shrugged. "I went to get Chad and we brought her over here."

"That's the fourth time this week, Tar," Sam interjected carefully, watching her younger sister. "She's been drinking a lot."

Tara glanced down at you, who was staring at her with big, dreamy eyes and clearly not listening to the conversation at hand, and sighed. "I know." She glanced at her friends and sister. "She's...she's still coping with...you know." The brunette didn't have to say the words for them all to understand what she meant: Woodsboro. 

Of them all, you had probably experienced the worst betrayal--Amber was your twin sister, and you had had no idea what she was planning until it happened. The raven-haired girl had stabbed you mercilessly with the idea of leaving no survivors behind, and you nearly died. 

Tara had experienced far too many times the nightmares that you would wake up from, in which your sister was hovering over you again, that same horrible smirk on her face as she dug the knife into you repeatedly. She'd tried to get you to talk about it, but you always refused and instead turned to partying as much as possible, which always resulted in this same ending--you, on her couch, plastered to the point of no return, and her taking care of you. 

Sam sighed. "I'll grab some Advil and water." She turned to Mindy and Chad. "You two can go now, if you want. Or stay." She shrugged. "Either way. Doesn't matter to me." She made her way to the kitchen, and the twins decided to follow her, leaving you and Tara alone in the living room.

"Oh, Y/N," Tara sighed as she rounded the couch. She kneeled beside you and placed her hands on your cheeks gently. You simply watched, leaning into her touch a bit. 

"Hi, pretty girl," you slurred, and, even after having been with you for the past three years, Tara could feel herself blush at the compliment. "Can we go cuddle?"

"Soon, my love." She rubbed her thumb against your skin and leaned closer. Your eyes flitted down to her lips, and she chuckled. "You can't keep doing this to yourself," she whispered. "It's not good for you."

You sucked in a breath. "Yeah."

Tara knew she wasn't going to get a real conversation out of you, not when you were that drunk, but she took that word as a sign that you at least knew that what you were doing wasn't right. She sighed and decided to table the conversation for the morning.

Sam returned then, with the twins in tow, and said, "I left two pills and a glass of water on your nightstand for her when she wakes up."

"Thanks, Sam," Tara said gratefully. She stood up and glanced at you before looking to Chad. "Could you...?"

He nodded and crossed the room, slipping one hand beneath your shoulders and the other beneath your knees. He picked you up gingerly and carefully carried you to Tara's room, lying you down on her bed. 

"Be good, champ," he said to you, squeezing your shoulder lightly before telling Tara, "We'll come by tomorrow."

"Okay," the brunette said with a nod, and then he disappeared, shutting the door behind him. She could hear the twins and Sam talking softly in the living room, most likely about the situation at hand, but her attention was focused on you. 

"Can we cuddle now?" you asked.

"Soon," she repeated. "Let me get you out of those clothes." She was gentle as she helped you out of your jeans and top, and then just as gentle as she slipped you into a pair of her pajama shorts and an old soccer t-shirt of hers. "Doesn't that feel better?"

You only hummed in response, and she knew that the alcohol was starting to put you to sleep. She nodded to herself and then climbed into bed beside you, reaching over your body to shut off her lamp. Once the two of you were encased in darkness--save for the small night light Tara had glowing in the corner; she couldn't find it in herself to sleep in the complete dark anymore, and neither could you--she wrapped an arm around your waist and buried her face between your shoulder blades, legs intertwining with your own.

"I wish you'd stop doing this to yourself," she whispered to ears that weren't listening. She held you close and tried to ignore the tears that pricked at her eyes. 

* * *

When she woke up, you were no longer in bed with her, but she could hear you in the bathroom throwing up, and she ran a hand down her face. The noise only lasted for a moment before the flush of the toilet came, and then the sound of the faucet, and then you were standing in her doorway, your palm pressed to your forehead.

"I feel like shit," you mumbled. 

Tara chuckled softly. "Well, you were really drunk last night, so I'm not surprised."

You groaned as you sauntered toward her bed, throwing yourself down on the edge of it. She sat up, rubbing a slow hand down your spine as you sat there, praying for your head to stop pounding. 

"Could you hand me the stuff on your nightstand?" you asked, referring to the pills and water Sam had left there the night before. Tara nodded, shuffling a bit before returning to you, placing the items in your hands.

You took the pills quickly and gulped down the glass of water after them, sighing with relief as the liquid quenched your parched throat. 

Silence blanketed the two of you for a moment before Tara decided to speak up. "That was the fourth time this week that that's happened, Y/N," she said, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. 

You clenched your eyes shut at the thought, releasing a shaky breath. "I know." You turned to her. "And I'm sorry that you keep having to take care of me."

She shook her head. "That's not what I care about. I'm more than happy to take care of you when you need it." She inhaled deeply. "But you can't keep doing this. It's not healthy."

You glanced down, staring at the bedsheets. "I know that, too, but...the only time I can't hear her is when I'm drinking." You swallowed. "Any time else, she's in my head. I don't...I don't know what else to do," you confessed quietly. Tara could see tears brim your eyes. "She won't go away."

"Is it just...that night?" she asked carefully. She didn't want to push, or that would cause you to end the conversation completely, and this was the most she had gotten out of you since the attack happened. 

"No," you said with a shake of your head. "No, sometimes it's just...memories, of growing up. I mean, with our parents gone all the time, we were basically the only family each other had. She...she wasn't great, obviously, but she was still my sister, and I just--" You were trembling, thoughts of Amber swirling around in your head and tears unable to be kept at bay. "I miss her, Tara."

"Y/N..." Tara wrapped her arms around your shoulders and pulled you in, your face burrowing into her neck. She felt as your tears soaked her skin, and she held you tighter. "You're allowed to miss her. It's normal."

"But with everything she did, I feel like I shouldn't," you sobbed. "It's just...it's so much. And I--God, Tara, I just want things back to the way they were."

She ran her hands through your hair. "I know, baby. I know."

"How do I get it to stop? H--how do I stop feeling like this?"

Tara sighed. "It's gonna take time, sweetheart. And talking, too, you know. That'll help."

You pushed yourself further into her. "I'm sorry," you cried.

She shushed you. "What're you apologizing for? You don't have to apologize."

"I've been such a mess recently, and...and you've had to take care of me, and--"

"It's okay. It's okay." She tightened her grip. "You're okay. We'll just...we'll find you a better outlet, okay? That sound good?"

You nodded against her, your sobs quieting a bit. "Thank you. For being here. For sticking with me, after everything."

Tara pulled away just enough to place a kiss against your temple. "I'll always be here. I'm not going anywhere."

#tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter #tara x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #scream 5 #scream 6