#easier said than done ofc

[ghostdnfie]

don't you ever hate when life's a pain you want to write to feel better, but because of the exhaustion from said life pain you can't write...

[r4trave]

2024 was a ROUGHH year for me creatively. i struggled with a lot of things, from art block, to struggling to find worth in my art, grappling with the fact that i work full time now and don't have time for art like i used to, etc. if we're being honest, i almost kinda hate looking back at my work from this past year because it just feels like i wasted so much time. i didn't make anything especially impressive, i hardly furthered any personal projects, i spent way too much time in my comfort zone. the year just kinda. happened. like my brain was turned off for most of it. and i hate that! i don't want to just go through the motions, even if it's the easiest thing to do. i want to make things i can be proud of. not whats popular. not what other people want. what I want to create. in 2025 i want to really focus on these things. i want to improve. i want to learn how to make comics. i want to get back into animation. i want to do so many things and its about time i lock tf in. i hope you'll stick around for this journey

happy new year <3

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

OMG YOURE DOING BINGO? :3 💖💖💖💖💖 can i pls join :3

IOOOOO MY LOVELY OFC YOU CAN!!!!!!!! <3333 here is your bingo hehe :333 i’m tucking you into bed soso gently btw!!! pouring you chamomile tea n everything!!!!!!

[camkablam]

Have you ever wanted to draw something but you fought due to your skill level at the time you decide not to do it

100% happens all the time, best thing I’ve learnt to do is just do it badly!! Art is for you after all

[whoviandoodler]

i think the most crucial thing to learn as you transition from a kid to an adult as a disabled person is that you have to be your own arbitor, and that you have to squash the human urge to go 'how does my environment perceive my actions' as much as possible. you need to give no one but yourself the power to validate you, and ask from no one but yourself to absolve you. the vast majority of people around you will, for the rest of your life, assign meaning to your limits that will have nothing to do with the reality of your existence. they will assume you are lazy, or that you don't care, or that you're this and that and in order to survive you will have to learn how to put yourself as the highest authority on your life and not let go.

[saturn-sends-hugs]

YES.

I feel like, especially online, people have a need to be seen as being on the “right side”. We never want to be seen doing or saying something wrong.

But… why? Being wrong isn’t some irreversible thing. So long as you accept other viewpoints and learn from your mistakes, being wrong is just that: a mistake.

But I think the problem comes from how people online treat mistakes. They can be seen as unforgivable. Some people can see the smallest slip up and instantly go on the offensive, no matter what. While something huge and actually damaging might require that, I would argue that most fandom preference just… isn’t that big? Like, you can absolutely debate with people and point out when stuff seems off to you, and that should be listened to, but if you can’t forgive someone for being wrong sometimes, that causes problems.

The instant backlash that a controversial idea can get INSTANTLY makes people not want to even risk being on a “wrong” or “bad” side. There is no debate; you pick a side and you stay there.

Now I’m not saying there aren’t exceptions: I for one have found a LOVELY pocket of fandom that is very open to discussion (clearly, lol :D), and I know that the majority of fandoms are probably more reasonable than we think, it’s just the loudest problems that stand out. And of COURSE, sometimes a problem is actually a problem. Correcting someone with a wrong opinion is never an obligation, and the block button is always an option.

Not sure where I ended up here, but yeah! Seeing both sides of an argument and accepting that there might not be one right answer is a trait that I personally value a lot, and I love seeing people in fandom push back against those harsh delineations between black and white.

Sometimes you won’t know what you think about something right away, and I think people should be allowed some time to explore.

Audience Comprehension of Grey Areas within Conflict in Media

I haven't written an analysis piece in a while, and while I don't necessarily have any thoughts on specific episodes, or a singular show atm, there's something that I've been thinking about recently that I feel like talking about.

In recent years, I've seen subsets of fandoms becoming less and less understanding of the idea of a "grey area" when it comes to fiction, believing that every situation has a right and wrong side, and that there is no way for two feuding characters to both be the logical party in a conflict. Semi-recently I've seen this in two fandoms that I participate in: The Bad Batch (Hunter vs Crosshair) and Good Omens (Crowley vs Aziraphale). Now I've gone into detail about both of these before, so I'm going to try and trim those discussions down for this post, but it's a similar problem in both fandoms and I feel like looking into it a bit.

Tags for @saturn-sends-hugs @inkstainedhandswithrings @eriexplosion and @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius in case anyone feels like pitching in

Hunter vs Crosshair

Now the relationship between Hunter and Crosshair was... complicated to say the least. There were so many factors that influenced their actions and decisions, which put both of them in a position of being right and wrong simultaneously. And yet despite them both being at fault, there was an ongoing war within the fandom about who was supporting the right side; were you Team Hunter or Team Crosshair? According to some, you couldn't be both because there was no way both of them could be right, could there?

Team Hunter always seemed to be the popular option, as he was considered the morally superior of the two. However, that doesn't mean that he was without faults. In fact, he was greatly flawed: so focused on his own belief of what was the right choice that he struggled to consider others ideas, reckless and impulsive, stubborn. He was far from perfect. But let's be real, nobody is. And yet, despite all of his flaws, Hunter was considered by many to be a character who could do no wrong, and therefore was the obvious man to support in this ongoing conflict.

So what about Crosshair? Well he was brash, cold, a downright arsehole at points, and chose to stay on the side of the Empire. Surely he couldn't be considered the one in the right here? Well, it's not that simple and it never was.

It all boils down to that moment when The Batch left Crosshair on Kamino at the beginning of S1. Hunter and The Batch didn't have much choice. Their own brother was shooting at them, their lives were at risk, and had they stayed there, they likely would have died or been captured. They couldn't have taken Cross with them because they could not guarantee their own safety. As much as he was their brother, he was a threat to them. But we also have to consider this from Crosshair's perspective. Yes, he was trying to capture his own squad, but he'd been mentally manipulated and was in no position to make rational decisions. He was under the Empire's control. And yet, despite being in danger himself, and needing the help of his brothers, he was left behind. It was understandable that he lost faith in them. But neither side is entirely at fault here. They made the best decision they could in that situation, and no the decisions weren't perfect, but when are they ever?

Let's look at the other crucial moment that always gets brought up in this conversation: Crosshair being left on the Kamino landing platform at the end of S1. I've seen many coming to Crosshair's defence here, saying that the squad had no right to leave their brother there. But let's be honest, it could've been so much worse had they taken him. Yes, Crosshair spent over 30 rotations on that platform, but The Batch didn't know that was going to happen. And Crosshair was refusing to come with them. Had they forced him along, that would've done more damage than good; Crosshair was vulnerable, scared of losing his autonomy. Having his brothers force him onto a ship against his will was going to make him more argumentative and stressed. The best thing the Batch could've done in that situation was respect their brother's choice, which they did.

Throughout the entire conflict in this show, both Hunter and Crosshair were right and wrong. It was never as simple as one side being the "good" side, and the other not, their actions were both fair and unfair. No-one could make perfect choices because no situation could allow that. And yet, there was this general understanding across a section of the fandom that a person's entire moral compass could be determined by which side of the argument they fell on, and that there was no way to accommodate both sides at the same time.

Crowley vs Aziraphale

Which brings me onto conflict number 2: the Ineffable Husbands. The ending of S2 was heartbreaking to say the least, and while it was surprising in the moment, in retrospect, it was completely inevitable. And while I remember just how depressed we were after that ending, I also remember just how angry the fandom got with Aziraphale. Our poor angel took the brunt of the hate and was considered by many people to have been the one in the wrong. But Zira wasn't the only perpetrator of that mess. Both of them were to blame, and the storm that hit was always going to come in at some point.

The ending argument parallels a spat that the two had at the beginning of the season, when Crowley and Aziraphale were trying to decide what to do about Gabriel. Aziraphale supported the "fix the problem" approach, suggesting that they should help the Archangel, while Crowley went for the "ditch the problem" approach, claiming they should just dump him in Dartmoor. And while they were both trying to achieve the same thing (eliminate the Gabriel issue), they had both A) came up with different plans and B) assumed that the other would have come up with the same idea as them. They thought their "exactlys" were the same, until Crowley points out the flaw: "I feel like your exactly and my exactly are different exactlys".

And this is how we ended up with the ending of GO S2. Aziraphale wanted to fix the system: he recognised the flaws, and as someone who had dedicated his entire existence to being a good ambassador for Heaven, had viewed it as the only logical solution. It's the exact response you'd expect from someone still trapped in a toxic religious group, a belief that the flaws in your faith can be rectified, no matter what. He made the choice you'd expect him to but where he stumbled was in expecting Crowley, who he knew had been through a great deal of trauma as a result of what Heaven did, to make the same choice as him. He knew how hurt Crowley had been, so it wasn't fair to expect that he would make the same choice.

And yet the same could be said for Crowley. Given Crowley's trauma, ditching Heaven is a perfectly reasonable solution for him. He knows how twisted their morals are, and understands that realistically, no matter he does, there will always be someone higher up the chain who would thwart any attempts to fix the institutional issues. It was perfectly demonstrated by Gabriel being punished for trying to prevent Armageddon. However, Crowley never told Aziraphale about how Gabriel was exiled from Heaven, so it's entirely unfair for him to expect Zira to make the same choice, when he purposefully withheld information from him.

Just like at the beginning of Season 2, they had both had the same end goal in mind, but their approaches differed and they assumed that the other would make the same decision as then. That was their downfall. So yes, as an audience member, you can have your own opinions on which choice you think is better, but it isn't simply as black and white as one being right and one being wrong. They can both be at fault.

Why do I think it's like this?

Ultimately, I think audience reactions to conflicts like this boil down to three things: availability of information to the audience, escapism, and our own battle with morality.

As an audience member, we will always have different information to the characters themselves. When it came to Hunter and Crosshair, we knew what was happening to both characters, so we couldn't understand why characters were making certain decisions, but it's important to remember that we have more information, so of course our own choices would be different. We have context. The same with Good Omens. Like I said, we know what happened to Gabriel, as does Crowley, but Aziraphale doesn't. So while we can back up Crowley's decision, we can't necessarily fault Zira when he doesn't know what we do.

Additionally, as viewers, we seek escapism. The world is a mess and conflicts have so many layers that sometimes a clear answer isn't always easily found. So when we turn to media, we hope for something clearer, something that will tell us exactly what is right and wrong. Things being so morally grey feels to real for us, so we fight to find the good and bad; we want answers so we build up black and white decisions, even if that isn't how things are actually playing out.

Not only this, but I think our own fight for moral superiority influences our consumption of media. We always want to be the "good" person, so we fight to be on the right side. We don't like being wrong and we judge people's morality by whether or not they agree with us because we don't like the idea of siding with a character that isn't entirely good. But life isn't like that. People aren't like that. We're flawed, we make bad decisions, and there is never a perfect answer to the decisions we make. Yes, some choices will always be better than others, but sometimes things are so grey and murky that we can find support and fault in both sides. However, people don't like that. They want to be right, to be good, so they find what they align with most and claim that as the "correct" side, attacking those that disagree because if they don't side with you, then they must be morally inferior. And in all honestly, I think this has just gotten worse over time.

At the end of the day, not everything is black and white, and your understanding of flaws in a character does not mean that you agree with or support them. It can simply be a case of recognition. Things aren't as clear cut as we would like them to be, they are more complicated, and the sooner we understand that, the sooner we can appreciate just how rich some of these stories and characters can be.

[stonedtaemin]

up with your turret / aren't we just terrified?

❕riding, creampie, angry sex, dirty talk, face slapping | ao3 | wc 4.3k

mc throws a cup at caleb, caleb gets horny (ofc)

“does it hurt?”

like hell.

“are you mad at me?”

furious. 

she shook her head no slowly, eyes trained on caleb like a hawk. 

they both knew that she was, in fact, mad at him. the tension made the room close in around them. unsaid words lingered like a bad stench. it was only just a few days ago that they had been on stellar terms. her mind flashed back to her first night in skyhaven. they couldn't keep their hands to themselves that whole night. 

she gripped the hem of her gown tightly, playing with a loose thread. she couldn't think about that.

what else could be done? after her not-so-secret tag along while tracking caleb, she got hurt and exposed herself. it felt like every time she was getting hot on the trail, something just had to go wrong. she was getting hurt a lot lately, physically and mentally. it was like doing mental gymnastics with herself while trying to figure out caleb's true intentions with everything that had been going on since mia's funeral. and kevi, poor kevi...

her eyebrows furrowed in anger. she wanted to cry more than anything but it wouldn't do any good. best to just stay angry and not have a total meltdown. being angry was easier.

she just needed sleep.

her eyes flickered between caleb and the monitor that read all of her vital signs. even though the numbers show slight improvement, she still felt like shit.

i’m so fucking mad. 

caleb put his hand over her eyes to insert the shot into her leg. the needle doesn’t even feel like anything with her mind on how irritated she was with him.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

“morning.” caleb returned to the room the next day, already dressed in his uniform and ready for whatever may be thrown at him. 

still, his favorite girl in the world said absolutely nothing. silent treatment. a-fucking-gain. he didn’t know if he wanted to pin her down and kiss her or play into her petty game. either way, he was getting agitated too. 

he peered at her from the corner of his eye to watch how hard she was studying the ground. he fiddled around with the med kit once again and read through her night files. she seemed to have slept the whole night, vital signs stable and only needing pain medicine once. 

“how are you feeling?” he chimed.

still no response.

he took a deep breath in through his nose. he turned to face her. still no eye contact. 

“we’re in a bit of a stalemate, huh?” 

he resumed messing with more data holograms after being met with more agonizing silence.

it’s almost as if he could read her mind. he knew she wanted nothing more than to escape. to break free of this room. she was always on the run, always trying to be one step ahead. she was such a restless creature. 

beautiful, restless girl. 

“caleb.”

her words cut through the quiet atmosphere of the hospital suite. the windows were built to be sound-proof from the outside world of skyhaven and the room was sealed shut from the rest of the workers and residents of the hospital. they were two souls trapped in a box together. a really awkward box. 

caleb would give anything for them to be back to the way they were when she first arrived, kissing sloppily on his couch while on their cloud of bliss. he just wanted to be on good terms again. it was hard to hide anything from her.

“i need to leave, caleb.” 

typical.

he tried not to give too much thought to it, still scrolling through useless data. he wouldn't play into her incessant whining. he was tired of her not taking care herself first. it was always mission first, herself last. not anymore. not under his watch. 

clearing his throat, he managed a curt “you’ll be out of here soon enough”.

he didn’t have to look at her to know she was pissed off. she probably had one of her eyebrows cocked up as if to say “screw you”. 

she scoffed.

“when?” 

“well… it depends on when your vital signs return to normal.” he answered tightly. they both knew her vital signs were pretty much at baseline level now. 

“caleb.” she said his name once more. this time with more warning behind her tone.

incessant indeed. 

he turned to look at her finally, both of their eyes locking in together. he crossed his arms, eyebrows knit together. god, she was just so breathtaking. especially when she was mad at him. it made him want to roll his eyes at her. 

“when you made me take cold medicine that night… it wasn’t just because you were concerned about my health, right?”

he honestly was surprised it took her this long to nag onto him about it. she usually was never one to beat around the bush, but something really must have been getting under her skin. he felt guilty. his cheeks warmed ever so slightly. he couldn't let his guard down about this. he had his reasons.

he scratched the back of his head with his hand.

“you already figured out everything, right?”

she always did.

always.

“...aren’t i pathetic?” he shyly smiled. play stupid games, win stupid prizes. 

she stood on her two feet, fists balled up. he backed up a little bit. 

“and this is all just an excuse. you never planned to let me go since the fucking beginning.” 

caleb didn’t even have time to react to her turning around to grab her glass of water off of the side table, which was then thrown smack onto his chest. it hit so hard that it broke on impact.

that was his stupid prize, by the way.

she stood there, breath heavy and her left fist still balled up. her cheeks were hot with blush and eyes sharp. she may have really resented him at that moment. it was also in that same moment caleb realized that it had begun to rain outside, lighting flashes illuminating the room. no thunder followed due to the sound being blocked out, but that didn’t stop him from feeling the building shake around them. everything had been lit up inside of him.

he felt the water start to soak through his jacket, then through his shirt. it made his heart race. he looked down onto his chest, brushing off his lapel. finally, he looked back up at her, eyes narrowing.

deep breaths, caleb.

“did that help you calm down?” his voice was level.

she kept her spiteful gaze locked onto him, unwavering. 

“not at all.” she challenged. 

that’s all it took for him to snap and walk forward. he took her by the throat, leather gloves tightening around her like a snake with it's food. immediately she sat back down on the bed, caleb prying her legs open with his knee. he loomed over her like a tower of authority, thumb stroking her cheek. 

a moan rippled through her like the thunder that loomed over skyhaven. she melted like butter under his touch.

some things never changed.  

“how about now? still feel like throwing another cup at me?” he asked, lips looming over hers. 

her gaze trailed from his eyes down to his lips, batting her eyelashes. she could use a nice hatefuck.

“caleb…” she whined. 

he yanked her back with force, more pressure being applied to her throat. it sent waves straight to her crotch. she could feel herself growing more and more wet. 

“you think you can just do whatever you fucking want all of the time?” he asked, thumb sliding onto her bottom lip, pushing down hard to expose her bottom teeth. 

“nngh— n-no…”

“i can’t hear you.” 

“no.” 

his hand released all at once from her neck. instant relief came rushing back to her windpipes but she missed the feeling immediately. he had gripped her so hard that she still felt a phantom of his touch after the fact. 

“caleb... i'm s—”

his lips crashed onto hers before she could even finish getting out whatever she was going to say. he didn’t really care, to be honest. he was so fucking turned on from her little stunt she just pulled. he didn’t even know why. she just so happened to be incredibly mad at him, more than usual. and it just so happened that he liked it when his girlfriend was a little feisty. it was like electricity.

maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t seen her in so long since everything that had happened between then and now. seeing her fully grown into the woman she was today, so sure of herself and her morals. everything was so black and white to her. she was dedicated to her hunter role. in a way she reminded him of himself, such a soldier and committed to the cause. but reckless and oftentimes too curious. it pissed him off. it made him horny. he had to fuck the brains out of her right now, dammit. 

she was the first to bite onto his bottom lip, pulling on it and opening her eyes to look at him. they stayed like that for a minute, staring at each other before diving back in. he sucked onto her tongue, wet, sloppy kissing sounds filling up the room. he loved it. she loved it too. 

when they pulled away to breathe, she practically drooled. she was already pulling her gown off, exposing her naked body immediately. 

jesus christ.

“please fuck me. please, i swear to god if you don’t fuck me right now caleb, i’m going to hate you forever.” 

he scoffed loudly, fingers immediately going to pinch her nipples. 

she yelped, leaning into his touch as if she couldn’t breathe without it. 

“you think you deserve that, princess?” he tilted his head, watching as her nipples hardened under his touch. 

she let her head fall back in ecstasy, long black hair cascading down her back and around her shoulders. 

“i want you to show me how mad you are.” she moaned as his lips kissed sloppily down her neck.

his fingers went straight to her scalp and he pulled so hard she thought he might have pulled a handful out. tears brimmed her eyes. 

“move.” he pushed her way back onto the headboard of the bed. he wouldn’t ask her to get on her knees since she was just injured. he may be willing to fuck the shit out of her but he was still her chivalrous boyfriend. no matter how annoyed they were with each other. 

she got the memo. 

he stared at her as he undressed himself. first shrugging off his soaked coat, then throwing his hat onto the bed. gloves too. as he started to take his belt off, she started to sneak her hand between her legs. her fingers dipped down to her crotch, beginning to make a swirling motion that caleb was all too familiar with. naughty girl.  

“stop.” he barked. 

he swiftly pulled his pants off, then peeled his boxers off. his hard cock bounced heavily with the motion, leaking with arousal and red with heat. she was still going, biting her free hand and circling her hips to her own rhythm. he crawled onto the bed and yanked her hand away from her clit. 

“i said stop.” he said slowly. his evol snapped her hands still as a rock to keep from going back to touching herself. she groaned in objection. 

her eyes were dark and eyelids heavy. 

“don’t tell me what to do. i’m tired of it.” she whined. caleb knew she was just trying to get a reaction. so he was going to give it to her. 

“yeah?” he asked, looking deep into her eyes for approval for what he wanted to do. 

she nodded. 

a hard and loud slap sounded as he smacked her hard across her face. she moaned, eyes rolling back to her head. 

“still don’t want to listen to me?” his voice boomed with authority. he was so hard right now he could barely keep the charade up. he knew this was working for her just as much as it was working for him right now. she had already expressed how she liked to be slapped before. they had tried it a few times previously but never like this.

his hand gripped her face harshly, pulling her face to the side with a yank. he gave her another harsh hit on her face, another cry of pleasure escaping her mouth.

“please, please, please, baby…” she whined. her hips grinded against his, her wetness spreading to his cock. he shivered against her. 

he landed a kiss onto her mouth softly before getting up onto his feet in front of her. his cock was standing up straight, so unbelievably hard. she looked up at him, curious for his next move. he gripped the base of his cock, wiggling it a bit in front of her face. 

“be a good girl and suck.” he said sharply. 

her cheeks had never been so red before, one side more puffy than the other from the harsh slap. she never really was great at giving head and it wasn’t exactly her favorite. but every now and then she loved to try. 

he put his hand on her cheek, softly stroking it to remind her it was ultimately her choice. 

“it’s okay. i love you.” he whispered.

she nodded and a small smile took over her swollen lips. she opened her mouth, tongue sticking out for him beautifully. he positioned his tip onto the middle of it, smacking it a few times. the pre-cum fell onto it, and she swallowed to taste it. 

“see how much i want you, baby girl?” his dick smacked against her cheek a few times while she swallowed his taste. he let the tip drag a little more pre-cum onto her cheek, leaving small streaks. her face looked so good next to his cock. he should do this more often. 

“yes, baby.” she responded with urgency. 

she opened her mouth again, allowing his length to enter more. he grabbed her by her hair again, pulling her back and forth. his thrusts were sharp but not to intense. he didn’t want to overstep her comfort zone with how much she could fit. he was already making her start to gag as is. 

the sinful sounds filled the room and almost made him unravel right then and there. the sopping wet sound of his dick filling her throat was too much to handle. his head fell back as he let out a drawn out growl, eyes closed. he felt her hands twist and jerk near his shaft as he pushed in and out of her mouth.

"shit, you're gonna make me cum."

he looked back down at her as she peered up through her bangs. her eyes were telling him to do it, cheeks stained with tears.

his hips bucked up hard, cock hitting the back of her throat. she gagged so hard, spit came spilling out around the corners of her lips.

"not yet." caleb smirked.

he pulled out immediately to stop from cutting it too short. her eyes were gazing at him the whole time, saliva mixed with pre-cum dripping down her chin. she was so fucking filthy. 

“you’re so perfect.” he praised her, getting back down onto the bed and positioning himself between her again. 

they kissed once more, caleb tasting himself on her tongue. their mouths clinged to each other for what seemed like hours. like they were velcro.

he lifted her on top of his lap, lips trailing down to her neck. she had bruises painted all across it now, just how she liked it. his hands roamed around her body, finding her breasts and squeezing onto them tightly. she let out a satisfied sigh with a low moan as she rubbed her folds onto his dick. 

she needed him so badly. 

“can i ride you? please, baby…” she begged softly into his ear. she nipped at his earlobe and he hissed in response. 

“go ahead princess. show me.” he cooed as he laid back onto his elbows to watch her. 

she leaned forward to pinch her breasts tightly together and shook them a bit for him. she felt pretty and wanted to put a show on for him. she rubbed her palms down the sides of her torso and down to her crotch. she was putting herself on display for him. 

“tell me i look good, caleb.” 

“you look so fucking good.” he responded lightning fast. if he wasn’t so jaded by his arousal maybe he would have been embarrassed. 

she chuckled, eyes narrowing like a predator looking at its prey. 

"tell me you want me to sit on your cock, please, caleb." her voice was so whiny it came out like a song.

he gripped her cheeks hard, her eyelids heavy with lust. 

"i want you to sit on my cock and ride me like the perfect little slut you are." he hissed. he pulled her face around with force, trying to drive the point home.

she lifted herself up to position his cock perfectly. she tried to sit on it the first time but it missed. she began to get frustrated and grunted. he took his hand and wrapped it around her waist to help out. 

“there you go, baby. that’s it.” he praised as he felt the tip hit the entrance. 

he sucked in a breath as his cock was immediately enveloped inside of her, the motion quick and jolting. they both shuddered, her hips faltering. 

“jesus… caleb. so f-fucking... big…” she muttered. he moaned in response. 

her palms splayed onto his abdomen as she tried to get the rhythm right. her hair trickled down around her, ticking his stomach. he was so overstimulated right now in the best possible way. the lightning outside that flashed onto her made it feel like he was in a dream. 

“bounce on it.” he commanded. 

“yes...” she managed to groan out as her hips began to circle.

his eyes went to the back of his head as he felt his dick inside her tight walls. this was the fucking dream. 

“fuck…” he drew out the word slowly and deeply. she was taking him like an absolute fucking champ. she was everything and more. he began to meet his hips with hers as she bounced up and down on him fervently. 

“yes, yes, yes right there— a-ah!” she was loud as shit. thank god for high security clearance and these windows. she was an absolute mess. 

“such a good little whore.” he growled. 

her eyes were shut close and her hips were stuttering with each thrust. her constant whining flooded his ears like water. he could watch her like this forever, body slick with sweat and breasts red with heat and bouncing up and down with each motion. he ran his hand up her body, up her neck, and then stuck his thumb into her mouth. she sucked hard, eyes opening to look into his. he pulled her down to meet her lips with his. the kiss felt like an eternity in the best way possible. 

“get up.” 

caleb lifted her up off of his cock and the absence made her hiss. the move was sudden and unexpected but it was quickly replaced by him flipping her over facing the headboard. 

“face down and ass up.” he gripped her by the hips harshly.

she wiggled her ass cutely for him while giggling. 

he struck his hand down onto her right cheek, the crack echoing in the room. 

she bucked up forward, a cry escaping her lips. 

smack. 

another smack. 

each slap was harder than the last. at this point a tear was streaming down her face. 

her moans got louder with each crack. 

“are you ever gonna throw another cup at me again?” he gritted out. 

“no.” 

“no, what?” he smacked her again.

“no sir…!” she yelped out in pure bliss. 

“good girl.” he rammed his cock back inside of her again, thrusting in and out quickly. 

he collected all of her hair into his fist and wrapped it around a few times, pulling her head back abruptly. each thrust sounded off in the thick air around them, balls smacking hard against her skin. it was lewd and disgusting in the best possible way. his hands released her hair and went back to the handles of her hips. he was going as deep as he could. 

“please, please, please…” she begged, each word stringing into the next incoherently. 

“god you take this dick so well. take that shit. just like that, baby.” he whimpered. 

he let go of her hips to let her take control of the pace. she looked back at him and locked eyes with him as she grinded up on him. she put her arm up to her back so he could lace his fingers with hers. it was a little awkward and contorted but they both didn’t care. they just needed to hold each other's hand. it was too good. they had to ground each other.

“a-ah! caleb. i’m so fucking close… shit.” she gritted out. her head fell onto the pillow in defeat, arm falling back down to her side. 

each thrust made a whine come out of her, a string of moans falling out of her mouth like a ritual. caleb couldn’t hold back his moans either, whimpers falling out in broken stutters. he loved how loud she was every time he was inside of her. no one could make her feel as good as him. he wanted the whole world to hear how good he made her feel. he didn’t care even if they didn’t have the luxury of this privacy. nothing was going to stop him from fucking the daylights out of her.

“do it.” 

caleb stuck his thumb in his mouth to slick it up before bending over to rub her clit as he thrust inside her. she yelped out in pleasure, whole body turning into jelly. she had completely surrendered to him. 

“oh my god, yes, fuck!” she cried out. her hips were meeting his touch with no rhyme or reason, just driving off pure instinct. 

her hips swiveled fast as he drew out her impending orgasm. that familiar warm, fuzzy feeling bubbled up into her stomach.

”please don’t stop, yes, yes, yes…”

“good girl. good fucking girl. cum for me.”

“i’m cumming, oh, fuck i’m cumming!” she drew out each word as her orgasm washed over her like a tidal wave. her moan came out in a long drawn out whine as her hips stuttered from overstimulation. 

caleb couldn’t handle it any longer either. 

“where do you want me, princess?” he whispered. she knew he was about to come too. 

she whined as his hand finally stopped and pulled back. 

“want you to fill me up. caleb.” she begged, lips pouting ever so slightly. she looked a complete fucking wreck and caleb thought she looked so gorgeous. she didn’t have to tell him twice. a minute later he was cumming, dick pulsing inside of her. his thrusts were sharp and deep as he rode out his orgasm. 

“jesus, baby. f-fuck me.” he whimpered. he didn’t care how pathetic he sounded. he had completely surrendered himself to her. she was his goddess.

he groaned with each final thrust, feeling himself fill her up so well. nothing could ever feel better than this. he was made for this. for her.

“you take me so well, baby girl. letting me fill you up so good.” his eyebrows furrowed together in pleasure. with a final thrust he buried himself deep inside her, plugging her up with his seed. she wiggled her ass with content. he landed a soft slap on her cheek, chuckling darkly. 

“bad bitch.” 

“just for you.” she hummed. 

“sweet girl, too.” he cooed as he reached to caress her cheek. it was still swollen. 

she kissed his palm. he started to pull out slowly, letting her brace for impact. 

once he pulled out, he watched as the cum dripped out of her cunt. he dragged the tip of his cock in it, slapping it a few times. he chuckled with amusement when she let out a moan of arousal.

“gonna clean that up for me?” she asked. she started to get up to grab the towel off the bedside table. before she could, he used his evol to freeze her in her place, leaning forward and placing his mouth on her folds. he lapped it up, already feeling his cock grow hard again. she let out the shakiest moan, gripping the sheets around her. 

“careful. i’m gonna get horny again.” she warned.

when he finished, he lifted her up to sit back on his lap, finally face to face again. they kissed deeply, teeth clashing together every now and then. 

“sit on my face.” he whispered onto her lips. 

she pulled away, eyes staring into his. her eyes had a look of pure lust and shock in them. never had they gone at it twice in one go (surprisingly). she knew he had the sex drive of an animal, but usually he had duties to attend to. she looked down at his wrist to see if he had turned his comms off. caleb caught her gaze and smirked. he unclasped the watch and threw it to the end of the bed. 

“just you and me.” he smirked, hand grazing her cheek then using his fingers to pull her chin up. they locked eyes again. 

“i love you.” she whispered before grabbing his face with both hands and pulling him into a deep kiss. he tasted like them and it made her wet all over again. maybe being mad at him wasn’t so bad after all.

“i love you more,” he kissed her softly before retracting “now sit on my face.”

she would definitely listen to him tell her what to do. at least for now. 

[dzvelinaskebiyars]

I love your foreigner gf headcanons for Toman. Can I request the same with Hanma, Ran, and Draken please?

Thank you so much!! And ofc! Have a nice day/night<333

Hanma:

He genuinely doesn't care if you're foreign or not, really doesn't care about someone's race and etc. He dislikes everyone equally^^ but not you--someone who kicked him in the balls on their first meeting.

I feel like that's when he kinda took interest in you? So he'd try to get close to you and find out that you're foreign. Well, since he was amused by you, he'd be nice.

You: Well then, how to say "stop smoking in front of me" in Japanese?

Hanma, currently smoking:....禁煙目の前で私.

You: 禁煙目の前で私<333

He ended up helping you with Japanese.

Hanma: あなたはとても背が低いです. (you're so short).

You: Huh?

Hanma: Nothing.

You: I know "短い" means short so if you're calling me short, then fuck you.

Well, he became your first friend in Japan so maybee he's not that bad, hm?

He'd randomly call you "豪華" and when you would question it, he'd just brush it off as you hallucinating. (Tr: gorgeous)

Ran:

Let's be honest, this man has learned many languages because he wants to be foreign celebrity. So he'd be happy to speak in other language than Japanese with someone because otherwise, he might forget what he has learned.

Coming to Japan to befriend a delinquent never ever crossed your mind, not even once, but here you are, in his house, chatting with him.

"That's not right." Ran said, taking pen from you and writing down the kanji right. You let out an audible oh and thanked him, copying what he wrote.

Meanwhile he was staring at you the whole time.

「 あなたはとても美しいです」 He said. You glanced at him, confused. You're sure you heard "You're" from him but you couldn't catch what he said next. (tr: You're beautiful)

"What was that?" You asked him.

"You're working hard, that's all." He smiled at you.

"Well, of course. I must learn Japanese."

What you two didn't know was that Rindou stood behind you two, his mouth hang open in shock hearing what Ran said. He definitely was going to tease his older brother about it.

Draken:

Unlike other Toman members, Draken wouldn't introduce you to his friends. Not until you came across them. Because all of his friends are delinquents and he doesn't want to take a risk and get you involved in any way. He doesn't want you to be pressured to meet new people either. Of course, he can introduce you to Hina or Emma if you ask him tho.

Please don't even mention teaching or learning to him, he hasn't done that in decades. But still, he'd help you out with Japanese.

He knows some people aren't very welcoming to foreigners and he doesn't want you to experience any hostility just because of your nationality.

While you're learning Japanese, he's learning your mother language so it'll be easier for him to teach you and chat with you in general.

It's so sweet of him! How he even asked you out to go with him on Tanabata and other festivals, explaining their meanings to you.

He wouldn't really take risk and confess to you in Japanese, thinking you wouldn't hear him. I think rather than that, when he's ready ofc, he'll confess to you in your mother language. Be it English, Italian, Spanish, French, Tagalog, Georgian, Arabic or whatever language, he'd learn it.

♡♡♡♡

I really hope you're satisfied!

[winchesterdefender]

And Then There Were Three | Winchester Sister I

Summary - A baby shows up on the Winchester's doorstep, and their entire lives change.

Pairings/characters - John Winchester, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Meg Winchester (OFC), Sam & Dean Winchester x little sister, John Winchester x daughter

Warnings - very mild cursing, John Winchester

Language - English (British)

Word Count - 3,096

Notes - This is the first instalment of the Winchester Sister series featuring my OFC Meg Winchester! Please be kind <3

Credits - dividers by the lovely @firefly-graphics

UPDATE - I have moved my writing to @winniewritesstories to make my writing easier to find than on this mess of a blog! I won't be taking this down but all future writing (for Meg and reader inserts) will be there!

Dean Winchester was strong. He was brave, and fierce. He fought monsters - has done his whole life, as long as he can remember. He liked to think he was unbreakable, invincible. The hits kept coming, and he kept taking them. Fear, pain, worry - he pushed it all down, kept it locked away. In some ways, he had a heart of ice. He never broke.

Dean Winchester was strong.

And then one day, just before he turned nineteen, a baby appeared on a motel doorstep. A baby who wasn't his, but was. Would always be. A baby in a pram, with a note addressed to John Winchester, a note that eased the fears this baby was his, but it would be his, really. John Winchester was never a father. Not to him, not to Sam, and therefore not to this baby.

It was early October, and already Maine was cold. Dean's breath clouded in front of him in the cool, dark night. A glance around the parking lot revealed nobody, no cars, nothing to indicate where this baby had come from. His first instinct was to bring the baby in from the cold, and he did, careful to fix the salt line the wheels of the pram disturbed.

The first thing that struck Dean was that this kid was definitely a Winchester. They were a carbon copy of baby Sammy, same little button nose and eyes, barely any hair gracing their head. A memory tugged at the corners of his mind, four years old and holding Sammy for the first time, his mom supporting Sam's head while dad took a picture. Still a kid with two parents but keenly aware of his responsibility, of how his centre of gravity had shifted from himself to his baby brother.

But his mom wasn't here now and Dean would have to support this baby's head on his own. And his dad hadn't taken pictures of his kids since Mary died. So his centre of gravity shifted again to the baby in the pram. Another of John Winchester's kids for Dean to raise. Part of him was angry, part of him defeated. Sammy was fourteen, able to look after himself now. Dean didn't have to worry about him in the same way - Sam fed himself, did his homework, all that crap. Dean had almost been free.

But he couldn't blame the baby. He didn't. It didn't ask for this. Didn't understand anything. Dean reached a hand down, pulled the little yellow blanket away from their face. It was small, smaller than Sammy had been, and not just because Dean was grown now and over six foot. Small in a way that told him this baby was young. Small in a way that put fear into him. Small in a way that made him desperate to protect them from the horrors and cruelty of their world.

He felt sick knowing he could never protect them from that. From their lives. This baby was a Winchester, which basically meant it was fucked.

The bathroom door opened, and Sam walked out.

"What is that?" he asks, damp hair curling against his forehead.

"A baby," Dean replies, still looking down at them.

"A what?" Sam asks incredulously, crossing the room to stand by his brother. He looked down and saw there was, in fact, a baby. "The hell did this come from?"

"Was on the doorstep. Came with this." Dean said, handing Sam the unopened letter addressed to their father.

"It's dad's?" Sam was having a hard time digesting all this. He had to admit, his first thought was it was Dean's. "Where even is he?"

"Bar, I think. Reckon he knows about it?"

"If he knew he had another kid out there, don't ya think he would've mentioned it?"

"Yeah, 'cos Dad's a real open book." Dean replied. Sam turned the envelope over and made to open. "What're you doing? Don't do that, is addressed to Dad."

"Figured this might give us some answers. Maybe a name for the mystery baby."

Dean snatched the letter from his brother. "We ain't reading this til Dad has."

"Is Dad dating anyone?" Sam asked. "He's never mentioned anyone."

Dean shrugged a shoulder. "Doubt Dad dates. Probably a one time thing."

"And after he gave me the safe sex talk. Hypocrite." Sam said. Dean shot him a pointed look but didn't say anything. After all, Sam wasn't wrong. Dean'd received the John Winchester safe sex talk, too (an uncomfortable memory).

As if summoned, the rumble of the Impala's engine and the beams of her headlights signalled their father's arrival. The brothers exchanged a look, knowing that a mystery baby showing up on their doorstep would not go down well with John Winchester. Dean didn’t know why, but he positioned himself in front of the pram, standing between the baby and the door John would walk through. Sam copied him.

The door opened and John walked in, stepping over the salt line. He nodded his head towards his sons, locking the door and shrugging off his leather jacket. He turned around; neither Sam nor Dean had moved, or even said anything.

"What?" he asked gruffly.

"Um, so something kinda... turned up. For you." Dean started. John cocked an eyebrow.

"This ain't exactly our forwarding address. What is it and how'd it get here?" John asked, heading to the fridge for a beer.

"Well... it's..." Dean figured it was easier to just show him, so he stepped to the side and motioned for Sam to do the same.

John nearly dropped his beer. He immediately fixed his gaze on Dean.

"What did you do?" he asked. Dean sighed. Why'd everyone assume it was his?

"It's yours," Sam said bluntly, taking the letter from Dean's hand and holding it out for him. "Showed up on the doorstep with this."

This time John did drop his beer.

The bottle smashed on the floor, glass and alcohol flying everywhere. The sudden noise startled the baby awake, and they promptly burst out crying. John reached for the letter, Sam for a broom, which left Dean with the baby.

He gently lifted them out of the pram, careful of their head. The yellow blanket fell away slightly, revealing a light pink romper underneath. Presumably a girl then. A little sister. Dean rocked them gently, the way he remembers his mother doing with Sam, quietly shushing to calm her down.

In his arms, he was again struck by how small she was. He held her easily in just two hands, one under her head, the other on her back. She opened her eyes then, wide and blue like all babies, taking in the motel room around them before settling on Dean's face.

"Hello, you," he whispered, unable to keep the smile off his face. "I'm your big brother." His heart clenched in his chest as he held her.

"What's the letter say?" Sam asks, knelt on the floor to pick up the glass. John was staring intently at the letter in his hands.

"It's from her mother. Says she can't look after a baby. Too young."

"Jesus, Dad. How young?" Sam asks. Dean groans inwardly. Not the time for this, Sam.

"What the hell are you trying to ask?" John fired back. "She was early twenties. Drinking age, anyway. I don't know why the hell she'd think I'm any more capable of this than she would be. How the hell'd she even find us?" Sam and Dean both shrugged. How were they to know?

"What's her name?" Dean asked, still swaying gently back and forth.

"Amanda something. Don't really remember, to be honest. It was two nights. The sex was alright, nothing special. Didn't exchange numbers."

Sam and Dean cringed. They did not need details.

"I meant the baby, Dad." Dean replied. John at least had the decency to look a little embarrassed.

"Right, of course. Says here..." He scanned the letter. "Margaret." Dean screwed up his nose. That's an old lady name. His little sister was going to be cool, and that couldn't happen with a name like Margaret.

"That's a terrible name for a baby," Dean said aloud, looking down at her. "She doesn't look like a Margaret."

"Meg March was actually a Margaret," Sam said. John and Dean looked at him, perplexed. "Little Women? Louisa May Alcott?" More blank stares. Sam just rolled his eyes.

"Meg." Dean repeats, squinting his eyes at the baby. It fit. "Meg Winchester."

"It doesn't matter what she's called," John said. "We ain't keeping it." Dean's head snapped up.

"What?" Dean asked incredulously.

"How the hell are we going to look after a baby, Dean?" John asked. "We don't have a house, or any baby supplies. We're always on the move. We're hunters, not nannies. I spent two nights with a woman a year ago and then a baby appears. Kid's probably not even mine anyway. We'll take her to a fire station or something."

Dean couldn't believe what he was hearing. They'd managed before. Sammy had been but six months old when they started hunting, and Dean - though he tried - hadn't been able to help out as much as he could now. This baby was family. Family is everything to the Winchester's.

"Course she's yours, Dad, look at her! She's a spitting image of Sammy as a baby. Besides, Sam was a baby and we raised him on the road. You can't just abandon her." Dean cried out.

"Maybe Dad is right, Dean. She'd be better off with a family - "

"We're her family! The three of us."

"A real family, with a mom, a dad, a house. She'd be normal, Dean, safe. We can't give her any of that!" Sam replied. True, he was projecting his own dreams onto a baby, but he had a valid point, or so he thought. All Dean heard, however, was that Sam didn't believe they were a real family.

"We are a real family, Sam. Just because we don't have a white picket fence, don't mean we ain't a real family. Besides, you really want this kid growing up in the system? Anything could happen to her!"

"Anything could happen to her here, Dean! All it takes is - is a spirit, or a pissed off monster out for revenge, and she-"

"But we can protect her from that. You think some civilian family would keep her safe if a monster decided to get revenge, Sammy? You have know idea what happens in the foster system. She could be abused, or trafficked, or-"

"Enough!" John snapped loudly, startling the baby again. He couldn't hear himself think. And he did need to think, long and hard, about what was best for them, and for the baby. Sam made a good point, of course, and God knows John's not equipped to look after a baby. But Dean was right, too. Anything could happen to her out there. "Sam, get me a beer."

Sam sighed but did as he was told. John walked over to Dean, who was gently rocking the baby to settle her after John's outburst. He looked at the baby for the first time, really looked at her. Dean was right; she was a carbon copy of baby Sam. And she was cute, too. Dean, admittedly, had been a funny looking baby, especially as a newborn, a squished face and large head he eventually grew into. But this baby - Meg, he reminded himself - was sweet looking, almost doll-like, with her pouty pink lips and button nose.

He and Mary had never talked about more kids - Sam had only been a baby when she died - but he'd always imagined them having one or two more, and he'd always wanted a little girl. Mary had, too, he had no doubt.

But Mary wasn't here, and this wasn't her baby. Part of him felt guilty, as though he'd been unfaithful, despite the fact she'd been dead almost fifteen years. John thought of his own father then, Henry, who'd taken off when John was only four, leaving him and his mother on their own. Even all these years later, he still felt bitter about it - bitter and hurt. Of course it hurt, knowing your own father didn't want you and took off into the night. And that's what he was about to do to this little girl. Her mother had already bailed. John was all she had left.

John, and his boys. Sam had kept his distance, almost wary of the baby in Dean's arms, but Dean - he was whipped. That was the only word for it. He was smiling softly down at her, cooing gently to soothe her. Deep down, John knew Dean would end up doing more for this baby than he ever could. But maybe that was a good thing. Dean wouldn't make the mistakes John did. Wouldn't leave her alone like he did, leave her to raise herself.

The guilt twisted in his gut like a knife, but he knew what he had to do.

"We'll keep her. It'll be safest for her. We'll... we'll make it work somehow. We'll have to." John said, placing a large, calloused hand gently on his daughter's head. Dean looked up at him with Mary's green eyes, raw hope etched onto his face.

"Yeah?" He asked softly. John nodded once, clapping his eldest son gently on the shoulder. Sam handed him a beer, then stood on Dean's other side.

"Can I hold her?" Sam asked. Dean looked reluctant to let her go.

"Be careful. She's really small and can't hold her head up on her own yet, so make sure you support it. Don't drop her, for God's sake." Dean rambled on as he gently shifted the infant into Sam's open arms, already fretting like a mother hen. John smiled softly at his children - all three of them.

Sam smiled at the baby, rocking her gently the way Dean had. "Hi, Meg. I'm gonna be your favourite big brother." He said. Dean rolled his eyes.

"No way, Sammy. I'm already her favourite."

"That's crap, she doesn't speak, can't even smile. You don't know that."

"Sure she can, she smiled at me just now."

"Yeah, that was gas, Dean. She farted on you." Sam replied, and Dean's smile faltered.

"Speaking of," Dean said, changing the conversation abruptly. "We're gonna need supplies. Diapers, a car seat, formula."

John nodded, moving to the pram that Meg had turned up in. There was a bag in the basket underneath the bassinet. John leafed through it quickly. "There's some stuff here," he said, holding up a muslin cloth and some diapers. "Enough for tonight, at least. We'll find somewhere in town tomorrow that sells baby stuff. Maybe pick up a book, too."

"A baby book?" Sam asked. "Why'd you need that?"

"It's been a long time since I did any of this, Sammy. Besides, I didn't do it on my own before, I was working a lot. Your mom... your mom looked after you guys most. Did all the hard stuff." John admitted quietly. The room fell into reverent silence the way it always did when someone brought up Mary. Sam didn't point out that he'd still been a baby when she died, and John had raised him for most of life alone. It didn't seem like the time. But a book seemed overboard, in Sam's opinion. How hard could a baby be?

Only a minute or so later, Sam's question was answered. Meg began fussing in his arms, quietly at first, but getting louder despite Sam's gentle shushing and swaying. When her cries turned to wails, he looked up at his father and brother, panic in his eyes. "I think I broke her."

It was Dean that stepped forward, plucking the baby from his arms. "You didn't break her," he assured Sam. John stepped up too, looking down at the infant whose fist she was trying to squeeze into her mouth.

"See how she's sucking her hand?" John spoke quietly. "Mean's she's hungry. C'mon Sam, I'll show you how to make a bottle. If I can work it out, that is."

Sam and John stepped away to prepare the formula. Dean watched them as he swayed the baby. "It's okay, princess. Daddy and Sammy will get you some food."

Dean watched his father, usually so confident and self assured in everything he did, falter at almost every step. Checking the instructions on the formula, then checking again. Rinsing a bottle and filling it with hot water. Hands hesitant, unsure of what they were doing. Hands that could assemble a shot gun in under a minute, but seemed to tremble as he shook the bottle. Testing the temperature on his palm, his wrist, then his wrist again. He had no idea how warm it should be.

Although it was strange to see John so unsteady, Dean found it strangely... comforting. Humanising, perhaps. He pictured briefly John doing the same thing for him as a baby, the unsure hands of a first time father. Pictured his mom along side, walking him through each step.

John handed the formula to Dean. "You gonna do it?" he asked. Dean nodded. He didn't want to relinquish the baby, even though John hadn't even held her yet. Although, he'd made no move to hold her either. John talked him through it, how to hold the bottle, at what angle, as best he could remember.

Dean paced slowly around the small living space of their motel room with his sister in his arms. Sam had pulled out some homework, John writing something in his journal, beer in hand. But for Dean, it was just him and his sister in the world. Hell, his sister was his world now.

Dean Winchester was strong.

But he could feel his heart thawing out for the baby in his arms. He knew he needed to be strong for her, yet he'd never felt so weak. The fear of what could happen to her, the need to keep her safe, was almost overwhelming. Was this parenthood?

The love, too, he supposed was overwhelming. The kind that made his heart clench, made him want to fix the world for her and burn it down at the same time. The kind he'd kill and die for.

And somehow, despite everything he'd seen and done in only eighteen years, this was the scariest thing he'd encountered to date. He kept it together for her. He was strong. He had to be.

He's Dean Winchester.

[verstappen-cult]

ouuu, imagine getting a new pet with the f1 grid! like, whether it be just recently moving in together and wanting a new addition or whether it be just a small present, your choice ofc! 💖

GETTING A NEW PET WITH THE BOYS | F1 GRID

★ — LANDO NORRIS (4)

one day you came home only to find lando laying on the floor with a tiny cat sitting on his chest, talking so soft as if he was speaking to a child, hands caressing behind his little ears. “hey, i got you a present!” he was lot more excited than you, and you were the one that actually wanted to adopt a cat. you named her with a little bit of help from lando, and soon became a crucial part in both your lives. every time lando is away, which is most of the time, he’s always asking for pics of his two girls. you’re pretty sure he loves the cat more than he loves you. and vice–versa.

★ — CHARLES LECLERC (16)

it was always a plan. even when you had been dating for just a couple of weeks, you two always wanted to have a dog together. and that’s why the moment you move in together, you go to one of the shelters in the city to adopt one. it’s hard. there are so many dogs waiting for someone to take them home that it is impossible for you to not cry. eventually you take home a little one that kept following charles everywhere he went, and the moment the dog starts running and sniffing everything, making you both laugh, you know he’s the perfect addition to your life.

★ — OSCAR PIASTRI (81)

oscar knows you grew up with a lot of dogs and cats, and that you miss them every day. he also knows you are pretty happy living with him and traveling when you can, but living away from family is hard. it’s no secret that you are the most important person in his life and he will always want you to be happy; that is why one day you wake up with a slight pressure on your chest and two big brown eyes looking at you. you’re very sure everyone in the building heard your scream when you realized it was a rabbit. oscar had the biggest smile on his face, and felt like a very proud boyfriend, as he saw you play with him.

★ — MAX VERSTAPPEN (33/1)

you and max weren’t looking to adopt a new cat, you really were more than happy and done with jimmy and sassy. but then one day you’re walking back to your hotel after lunch and next thing you know, you are inside a pet shop. you were just thinking about getting the cats new toys and maybe a cat tree when you saw her sitting at the counter, looking so soft and tiny. when max went to pay, the owner told you she was a stray cat and the rest was history. there was a lot of paperwork to be able to get her out of the city and back to your home, but it was all worth it.

★ — ALEX ALBON (23)

you’re always looking to adopt new pets. or members of the family as alex likes to call them. you know who you’re dating, so it’s all part of the relationship. not that it bothers you; you’re really happy with the zoo you have at home. the newest addition is a little more big than the rest of the pets, and it doesn’t surprise you, nothing does with alex anymore. and you always wanted a horse growing up, it’s a win for everyone. every time alex has free time you’re traveling to visit alex’s parents where the horse lives and it’s hard when you have to say goodbye but you know alex is already looking to adopt a new cat, or a dog, or another horse, and that makes it a little easier.

★ — DANIEL RICCIARDO (3)

daniel just comes home holding a guinea pig one day and you don’t even question him. he said he found it near the park where he went to run and couldn’t leave it there. just like that you got a new pet. neither of you had a guinea pig before so you don’t really know how to take care of him. or her? so the next morning you take the little one to the vet and then to a pet shop where you buy everything you’re going to need. and some other things that aren’t necessary but daniel saw and fell in love. if you had to drag him out of there before he brought a fish, well, that’s no one’s business.

★ — MICK SCHUMACHER (47)

you were cuddling on the couch, mick with the most awful cold ever known to men when you got a call from her mom, and before she even got to say hi your boyfriend was already asking for the family dog. it was so cute seeing him say how much he missed him and how he wished he could be there to cuddle and feel better (rude!); that was the exact moment you knew what to do. it was a little hard trying to find a shelter, and then complete the form and interview they asked for, but in just a couple of days you were standing in front of a blanket-covered and almost crying mick cuddling with his new dog.

© VERSTAPPEN-CULT ⎯ do not repost, translate, plagiarise or claim any of my works as your own.

[stormyelliotwritez]

hiii there hope ur having a good day ❤️

i was thinking if you could pretty please🙏 do dp+wv with autistic ftm reader (your autistic/ftm writing is SO good. bless you fr) who does NOT understand socializing. like. not completely helpless but mostly because he copies how other people act in public even though he doesnt understand why people act that way (me fr…)

i hope this makes sense lol but if u wanna make it more generalized thats so totally okay im just. starved. for these two. 🙏🙏 thanksies <3

OH MY GOD YES thats literally so me as well and thankssss, i try my best to write good stuff!!!

DATING THEM AS AUTISTIC!FTM!READER WHO DOESNT UNDERSTAND SOCIALIZING

im not sure sure if this is what you wanted but i hope you like it!!!

when you start copying wade, he looks at you funny and then looks at logan like you seeing this? you explain what you’re doing and he starts calling you a parrot (all in good fun ofc)

logan starts pulling you around and he also hates socializing but he gets it more than you do so he’ll stand you next to him and whisper stuff in your ear about what to say or do and he doesn’t give a shit if you guys look weird

wade rambles about why people do shit and he helps you out like when you have to talk to people normally by taking over or he’ll just nudge you and mime

they’re so chill with you just being yourself at home like you don’t have to think about socializing coz they won’t get mad

if you look really confused, they’ll excuse you from wherever you are and explain what happened or what was said to you

wade throws stuff at you if you say something mean or like not socially correct or whatever the term is (which he only knows about coz logan gets it kinda)

logan chuckles to himself when he notices you picking up on things he does and he calls ya a good boy for knowing what to do

when you’re so done with people being stupid, they just let ya loose and you can deathstare people and back chat them and they’ll normally record it so they can watch it back and laugh with you about it

logan gives you and wade cuddles when you manage to get through a whole outing without going crazy at someone

they literally do not care if you suck at socializing but going out is so much easier if other people don’t look at you guys more funny than they already do

if you get nervous or anxious, one of them will hold your hand and squeeze it or put their arm around you

if people are assholes coz of you being trans, logan will explain how they’re being an asshole and wade’ll ask if you wanna make their day bad or if he should

[hxzbinwrites]

Hello~ I was wondering if we could get some Vox x daughter headcanons (platonically ofc, just some normal protective parent stuff) just for fun, if not that's okay I'm just curious, hope you have a wonderful day

Vox x Daughter! Reader | Headcannons

Warnings ⚠️: Cussing, very short

Sinners couldn’t have children with other sinners once they dropped down to Hell, how Vox knocked someone up, no one knows.

The mother was out of the picture, supposedly wanting nothing to do with Hell or the Vees, so he’s a single dad.

Running a tech empire and raising a daughter is NOT an easy task.

He definitely has one of those baby carriers that look like a backpack that goes over your chest.

When you’d be sleeping against his chest, he’d tilt his monitor down and give you soft kisses on your little head.

I’d imagine your appearance wouldn’t be a whole tv, but more like an android.

Vox had to teach you how to probably take care of your hardware and not fry up your circuits. Easier said than done, when he woke up in Hell, he was already an adult who knew about technology from his life, not a mere child.

When you became school-aged, he’d teach you what you need to know. Political science, computer science, coding, programming-

Had to begrudgingly change his curriculum, he stole some homeschool plan off of the internet on Earth. He was told by Vel that he was a dumbass and that you’d turn out dumber than him if he couldn’t teach you properly.

Beware if you get an attitude with him, he’ll get a worse one. You can’t out-petty and pettiest being in Hell.

Loves you with all of his heart. He doesn’t care who it is, if anyone hurt you, he’d decapitate them on live tv. (No he definitely didn’t steal that idea from Alastor’s screams on his broadcast.)

He was very wary when you became friends with the Princess

Once he went with you to check out his “hotel”. He found out the Radio Demon resided there as well.

Before Vox blew up the hotel, Lucifer stopped him. The two heavily bonded over being single dads and their hatred for the red deer.

Will tell you regularly he loves you, and would uproot Heaven, Hell, and Earth if you just said pretty please.

[m1ckeyb3rry]

hii!! First of all ur theme is so aesthetically pleasing and I love all the nagi. I like binge read all of your event works and *chefs kiss*. Could I request a piece for karasu with the theme of like academic rivals/classmates? No worries if not, hoping ur doing well and taking care of urself!

On an unrelated note I saw that post about rude comments and im so sorry that’s happening to you! I honestly don’t know what drives ppl to bother leaving nasty comments esp when it’s not like they’re being forced to read anything T-T Hoping to send you a bit of love to counter those trolls!

Synopsis: Crows are clingy birds, and Tabito Karasu’s feelings are hurt easier than you realize. (part two here!) (part three here!)

Event Masterlist

Pairing: Karasu x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 9.1k

Content Warnings: academic rivals to lovers, karasu is an asshole, reader is also an asshole, jealous karasu 😍, hiori randomly pulls up at one point for some reason??, yukimiya requests to follow one (1) person and accidentally causes the most dramatic pseudo breakup ever

A/N: anon i used to pray for times like these 😭😩 LMAOAO karasu is my fav (behind nagi ofc) but i’ve never gotten around to writing him so getting this request made me SO excited HAHA. i haven’t done anything rivals/enemies to lovers before so fingers crossed this doesn’t feel too awkward or unrealistic or rushed anything!! and yayyy i love my little nagi theme (and also nagi in general) i’m glad you like it too!! and my writing too, you’re so sweet 🥹 there will always be jerks unfortunately but lovely people like you make it all worth it 💖 thank you again and i hope this is kind of what you were looking for 🫶🏻

Additional: part of my 500 follower event! see the event description and rules to make a request of your own.

ONE: POISON IT

You could hardly contain your smile as you sauntered up to Tabito Karasu’s desk, your exam held behind your back. He was sitting by himself — his seat partner was sick this week, from what you had heard, so he had taken the chance to spread out his things and stretch his legs. When he noticed you, he raised his eyebrows, mouth tugging into a frown at your amusement.

“What?” he said. You brandished the paper in front of you, irises sparkling as you leaned over to rest your forearms on the desk.

“I got full marks on the last Chemistry exam,” you said. Karasu made a face at you, snatching the test from your hands and scrunching his face up as he inspected it.

“Seriously?” he said.

“Seriously,” you said. “What did you get?”

He crossed his arms and looked away. “Not telling.”

“You definitely failed!” you said in delight, taking back the exam and laughing at him. “How embarrassing. You failed the easiest test of the year, and yet you consider Chemistry to be one of your best subjects? I can’t wait to see how badly you do during finals week.”

“I did not fail,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I got a ninety-eight.”

“Ninety-eight! That’s even worse than outright failure,” you said. “You were so close to perfection, and yet in the end, you fell short. It must sting for things to work out like that.”

“Yes, I’m positively wounded,” he said dryly before batting his eyelashes at you. From anyone else, the rapid switch in demeanor would’ve left you reeling, but the shifting mood was to be expected from him. “Will you give me a kiss and make it better?”

You rolled up your test and smacked him on the head with it. “No.”

“Anyways, my overall grade in the class is still higher than yours, because rankings were updated today and I’m still number one, so I’m not sure what cause you have to be boasting,” he said.

“Hm, but did you notice who’s number one in Modern Literature?” you said, pulling out your phone and opening the school’s app, which listed each class’s rankings in every subject. “Yup, that’s right, me.”

“Good job, Y/N!” he said, clapping mockingly. “Shall we have a party? It’s a big occasion — the mediocre number two has finally done something of such note that she’s number one for the first time in her life.”

“I’ve been number one plenty of other times!” you snapped. “For your information, I’ve been first in the class in mathematics and history every year since middle school, so who are you to be acting like this is a first? If anyone’s mediocre, it’s you!”

He raised his hands in the air innocently, his trademark smirk gracing his features once more now that he had succeeded in irritating you, as was his typical goal.

“Alright, alright, no need to be upset,” he said. “It’s not good for you. Clouds your judgment.”

“In what way?” you said.

“I mean, somehow, you got the two of us confused,” he said. “And we’re nothing alike.”

“I did no such thing,” you said.

“Well, I seem to recall you calling me mediocre, but between the two of us, the subpar one is obviously you,” he said, flicking your forehead. You slapped his hand away.

“You — the bell is going to ring, so I’m going to go back to my seat, but just so you know, you’re way more mediocre than me, Mr. Two-Percent-Short!” you said.

“Stellar comeback!” he called out. “My ego is bruised beyond healing!”

“Good!” you called back, ignoring the sarcasm. “Maybe it’ll return to a more normal size. Your head has grown too big, it’s almost as ridiculous as that hair of yours!”

“Leave the hair alone!”

During your free period, you decided to go to the library for some peace and quiet to work on your homework and find some of the sources you needed for your next research project. For belonging to a high school, the library was surprisingly extensive, and you had managed to find relevant information for every other project you had ever done in it, so you had high hopes. Unfortunately, it seemed this latest assignment was more obscure than anything you had completed before, so on your second lap of the shelves where the books, if they existed, would be located, you resigned yourself to giving up.

Just then, a volume caught your eye. The cover was shiny and pristine, the spine still unbent with newness. Crouching, you pulled it out, and when you saw the title emblazoned across the cover in bright yellow lettering, you began to laugh, making a beeline to the checkout counter with it tucked under your arm.

“Hey, Y/N! How was your morning?” your best friend said as you set your things down next to her in the cafeteria. You hummed in agreement, searching the room for a familiar head of dark hair. “You good? Looking for someone? Let me guess: your secret boyfriend that you’re keeping from the rest of us.”

“Yeah, I’m looking for Karasu,” you said before the rest of her words registered. “No!”

“You’re finally coming out and saying it?” she said, holding her hands to her heart and pretending to swoon. “I’ve been waiting for you to confess.”

“He’s not my secret boyfriend that I’m keeping from everyone, I’m just looking for him!” you said.

“Could’ve fooled me,” she said. “What do you need him for, anyways?”

“I got a book for him in the library,” you said.

“Right, and this is the guy you hate? Your ‘mortal enemy’ or whatever?” she checked.

“Yes,” you said.

“But you…got a book for him from the library, and now you’re looking for him so that you can give it to him?” she said. You scoffed.

“When you put it like that, it sounds different than it really is,” you said. “Trust me, this isn’t a nice gesture or anything. You can consider it revenge.”

“When are you going to get over this stupid rivalry?” she said. “He’s not even that bad, you know.”

“Not even that bad? Not even that bad? Are we talking about the same Karasu here? I’m referring to Tabito, not his older sister,” you said.

“Ah, I think so? He’s a nice guy,” she said.

“He is the spawn of the devil! And he’s the one who started it, so I’ll stop hating him once he apologizes and means it,” you said.

“Do you think he even remembers that?” she said. “It was in middle school.”

You glared at her. “I remember it. If he doesn’t, well, that’s just more of a reason for me to dislike him on principle.”

“Okay, okay, whatever you say,” she said. “Sorry for complimenting him. He’s awful and rude and mean. I think he’s sitting outside with some of his soccer friends, if you still want to find him.”

“Thank you!” you said, instantly forgetting that you were upset with her for taking Karasu’s side instead of yours. “Watch my stuff, okay? I’ll be right back.”

“See you soon,” she said. “Have fun. Actually, maybe it’s more realistic for me to just tell you not do anything that’ll get you expelled.”

You waved her off as you marched out to the courtyard where Karasu and his friends were lounging, their chairs positioned in the shade so that they did not overheat while they ate. None of them noticed you approaching until you were tapping Karasu on the shoulder and smiling at him sweetly.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” he said, sounding oddly flustered. One of his friends snorted, and more than a few chuckled, but you ignored all of them in favor of setting your bag on the armrest of Karasu’s chair.

“Hi, Karasu. I was in the library earlier and I saw this book that reminded me of you, so I took the liberty of checking it out,” you said.

“Oh,” he said. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“You’re so considerate, Y/N!” one of his friends said.

“We’re all so jealous of Karasu here,” another friend, the one who you believed had snorted, said. “You’re way too pretty for him.”

“Shut up,” Karasu said, sticking up his middle finger at his friend, though none of the group paid him much mind. In fact, it seemed to egg them on more, as they continued to hurl jabs at Karasu while simultaneously incessantly complimenting you.

You didn’t respond to any of them, instead pulling out the book and handing it to Karasu, interlacing your fingers and waiting for his reaction. At first he seemed confused, and then dismay dawned upon his features as he realized what he was holding in his hands: a copy of Chemistry for Dummies.

“What the fuck?” he said. You patted him on the shoulder.

“It’s only suitable,” you said. Suddenly, his expression cleared, and he beamed at you, which caused unease to brew in your stomach. You knew for a fact that he was about to say something infuriating, and you mentally prepared yourself to respond.

“What a roundabout way of telling me you need tutoring! Of course, I’m happy to help you anytime you want,” he said, tilting back in his chair so that he could cross his arms over his chest arrogantly.

“Why would I want tutoring from someone who does worse than me in the class?” you shot back, crossing your own arms in retaliation.

One of his friends whistled. “She got you there, Tabito.”

“Enough out of you,” Karasu said through gritted teeth. His friend winked at you and mouthed ‘nice one.’

“Look, man, all I’m saying is that if you want to ask out such a beautiful girl, you’ve gotta have a little more finesse than that!” he said.

“He can have all the finesse in the world, but I’d still say no,” you said. His friends hollered with raucous laughter, which caused Karasu’s face to turn red, but you only pressed the book into his hands. “It’s due in two weeks. That should be long enough, right? Make sure you return it on time, please, I don’t want late fines.“

“I hope you go into debt because of this stupid book,” he said.

“Aww,” you cooed. “You’ll be the one paying it off, so it doesn’t matter to me. See you around, Karasu — or, hopefully not.”

TWO: SHOOT IT

You and Karasu had met in middle school. The two of you had been assigned to work on a presentation together, and he had told you during your first meeting that because you were a dunce, you should just listen to him and do whatever he said. Ever since that day, you had done everything you could to show him how much better than him you were; for his part, he found great joy in getting on your nerves and so took part in every argument with pleasure.

You had long ago proved his middle school self wrong, by anyone’s standards, but at this point it was a habit for you to hate Tabito Karasu as well as a habit for him to hate you back. And of course, habits were hard to form but harder to break, so you would probably continue in that manner until the day you graduated and left him behind for good.

It was just the two of you who did not get along. Your friends were cordial with him and his ilk, and you did not really mind his little group all that much, crude though they sometimes were. After all, it was just in the manner of teenage boys, and when they were not taking advantage of your presence to make fun of Karasu, they were actually a pretty agreeable sort.

In fact, your friend groups tended to coexist most of the time, even having lunch together every now and again — though they were always careful to ensure that you and Karasu were kept entirely separate, or else you both were guaranteed to ruin the cheerful camaraderie with your sharp tongues and quick tempers. The measures they took were admirable, but unfortunately, they were not always enough. After all, what were precautions when compared with inevitabilities?

“Oh my god!” you squealed. “Guys! Oh my god, oh my god, I can’t believe this is happening?”

“Can’t believe what’s happening?” your best friend said, speaking for everyone at the table. They were all tuned in to you now, wondering what the big news might be that would bring about such a reaction from you, given how put-together you tended to be.

“Do you remember that one model I happened to meet while I was out last weekend? Kenyu Yukimiya? He just requested to follow me on social media!” you said.

“No way!” your best friend said.

“Way!” you said. The only warning you got was an arm pressing against your back, and then your phone was abruptly snatched from your hands. You gasped, spinning in your seat and scowling when you realized that the culprit was none other than that scavenging crow, Tabito Karasu.

“What the hell? He’s average at best, why are you so excited?” he said, scrolling through Yukimiya’s profile, his eyes narrowed critically. “Y/N, don’t you have any standards?”

“You’re probably the only person in the entire country who doesn’t find him gorgeous,” you said, exhaling dreamily as you took your phone back from him and stared at the artful manner Yukimiya was posing in for his profile photo. “He was even better looking in person. And sonice, too! They don’t make men like that often.”

Karasu frowned and swiped at your phone again. You held it out of his reach, reaching across the bench to press your foot against his chest, effectively holding him back from further attempts at thievery.

“Let me look at him again!” he said.

“Um, no,” you said. “I don’t need you making more fun of him. I know you’re jealous, but expressing it like this only makes you uglier, just so you know.”

“Looks like they’re back at it again,” one of your friends said, massaging her temples.

“Yup,” one of Karasu’s teammates said.

“Ugly? Ugly? You’re calling me ugly? Have you looked in a mirror recently? Also, get your gross shoe off of my shirt!” Karasu said.

“I have looked in a mirror recently, actually, and incidentally I’ve also been keeping an eye on my follow requests. Guess what? I’m obviously good looking, since a legitimate model wants to follow me! How many celebrities request to follow you, huh? I bet the answer is zero!” you said, though you did do him the favor of swinging your leg back, allowing him to brush himself off in disdain.

“Lots of soccer players want to follow me,” he said. “I’m quite good, you know.”

“That doesn’t count,” you said. “It has nothing to do with how you look. They’d request to follow you no matter how hideous and poorly styled you and your hair are.”

“Are they seriously arguing about which of them is worse looking?” Karasu’s teammate said.

“I suppose so,” your friend said. “They’re both really hot, though, so I don’t know what the big deal is…”

“Geez, they’ll take any excuse to go at it, huh?” Karasu’s teammate said.

“Pretty much,” your friend said.

“Guess all of that tension has to go somewhere,” his teammate said.

“Exactly,” your friend said, shaking her head as she finished up her lunch.

“That model probably only works for horror magazines!” Karasu said. “It barely even counts!”

“He was in Vogue Japan,” you said smugly. “Look it up, stupid.”

“So what?” he said.

“So he’s handsome,” you said. “Like I said, it’s okay if you’re envious of him, as long as you accept it instead of doing this whole weird denial thing. I don’t blame you for it — in fact, I thought you would be. You don’t have much going for you overall, do you? In all honesty, it’s only natural for you to feel like this when faced with what you lack.”

Karasu’s eyes widened, and then he stood abruptly, picking up his bag with one arm and haphazardly pulling it onto his back. “Goodbye.”

“Bye,” you said, not really caring one way or another what he did with himself. Actually, you would prefer it if he wasn’t there, interrupting your meal and your daydreaming about your impending romance with Kenyu Yukimiya.

“Wow, Y/N,” your best friend said once Karasu was gone. “You’re kind of dumb, you know that?”

“What are you talking about?” you said.

“It’s not her fault,” another one of Karasu’s teammates said. “He’s not much better.”

“Huh?” you said.

“Never mind,” your best friend said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I have a migraine now.”

“Want some ibuprofen?” Karasu’s teammate said. She accepted it gratefully, and nothing more was said on the subject. The rest of lunch passed in a peaceful manner, though strangely, Karasu did not return.

It should’ve made you happy. You wondered, then, why it felt so odd without him there, like there was a gaping maw sitting in the place that should’ve been occupied by him.

THREE: DROWN IT

Ever since the day that Yukimiya had requested to follow you, you and Karasu hadn’t spoken. He refused to make eye contact with you in the few classes the two of you had together, keeping his gaze lowered to his work and his shoulders hunched away from you. You didn’t even try to talk to him; something told you that it would not be well-received, and you weren’t anywhere near confrontational enough to bring up his odd behavior, so the time without him dragged on and on, seemingly without end.

At first, you were happy, and you told your friends as much. It was a much-needed break from the constant aggravation he brought you, and you found your classes without your competition to be almost boring in their simplicity.

“The more you say you’re happy that you and Karasu aren’t talking, the less it sounds believable,” your best friend said, taking a sip from her juice box.

“Believe it! This is what I’ve been wanting since middle school,” you said.

“Is it?” she said. “It sounds like you’re kind of upset.”

“Am not!” you said. She shrugged.

“Sure,” she said, drawing out the word. “Definitely not.”

“Why would I be upset?” you said.

“You tell me,” she said.

“I’m telling you that I’m not upset. You’re the one with the theory, so give me some evidence to substantiate it,” you said.

“Fine,” she said. “You talk about him all of the time, even when you guys are getting along — or, at least, your twisted little version of being friendly, which isn’t friendly by anyone else’s standards but it seems to work for you two, so I won’t comment further. You keep telling us that you’re so delighted he’s leaving you alone, but you do this thing with your face when you say it that makes it super obvious you’re not. It’s not the kind of behavior you’d display when discussing someone you hate as much as you claim to hate him. Finally, there’s a reason half the school thinks you guys are dating, and it’s not just the obvious aesthetic appeal of that match.”

“What? I thought you were just trying to bother me when you brought that up!” you said. She shook her head.

“No, it’s a common misconception. It’s why no one’s ever asked you out. They all think you’re already taken. Actually, the other day, a guy asked me if I thought he might have a chance with you now that you and Karasu had broken up,” she said.

“What’d you say?” you said, half in horror, half in fascination.

“I told him probably not, and that you and Karasu hadn’t broken up, because you were never together in the first place,” she said.

“Oh, okay,” you said.

“Should I have said something else?” she said. You shook your head.

“No,” you said. “What else would you have said?”

“Dunno,” she said. “Look, you need to cheer up. I’m sure that if you just try to talk to him, things will go back to normal in an instant. Then you can return to complaining about him like usual.”

“Talk to him? About what?” you said. She gave you an incredulous look.

“You were pretty mean to him the other day, Y/N,” she said.

“It wasn’t any meaner than what he says to me on the regular,” you said. “And what I say to him in return. I don’t see why he’d be more or less offended.”

“I think it was a little worse than what you typically say,” she said. “Plus, the context was different.”

“How so?” you said. She shook her head.

“That’s for him to explain, not me,” she said. “Come on, don’t be stubborn. Work things out with him. I miss hanging out with the guys.”

“Ah, so that’s why it matters to you,” you said. “Sorry to say it, but I don’t have any plans at attempting conversation with him anytime soon. Like I said, things are finally calm and stress-free for me. He’s the one being immature, as always, so why’s it up to me to make things better?”

“Immature?” your best friend said. “You’ve held a grudge against him since middle school.”

“And?” you said. She squinted at you before pursing her lips.

“Well, I guess the two of you really are made for one another,” she said.

“What?”

The next week would mark the beginning of the swimming unit in PE class, which you were actually looking forward to. You loved to swim, you had ever since you were a child and your parents had brought you into the water for the first time, and the thought of getting to earn a good grade for something you liked doing in the first place was an agreeable on.

In preparation, you decided to stop by the pool after classes were over so that you could acclimate yourself to the motions of the strokes once again. The swim team’s practice had been canceled, and no one else ever used the pool, so you would have the place to yourself, which was just about the closest thing to heaven you could imagine while still living on Earth.

Changing into your school-issued bathing suit and putting your things into a locker, you tied your hair back so that it was out of the way and stepped into the steaming indoor pool deck. The water was a bright cerulean shade, the lanes split by lane-lines which alternated colors to match your school’s emblem. When you dipped your toe into the deep end, you found it was warm, not cold like you had feared. The school didn’t splurge on heating the water of the rarely-used pool, so usually, it was all but freezing. You supposed that they must’ve had complaints from last year’s PE classes, so they had restarted the heaters in order to ensure that no one had any cause to whine about the temperature this year.

For a moment, you just sat on the tiled edge, your legs swishing about in the water, the heels of your palms pressing against the lip of the pool as you closed your eyes and luxuriated in the tangy scent of chlorine. So lost were you that you almost didn’t notice the door swinging open, but the clang of it shutting was unmistakable. Thinking it must’ve been a confused swim team member showing up to a practice that wasn’t happening, you opened your eyes, your lips parting to issue a reprimand that died before it could take shape.

It wasn’t a swim team member. It was Tabito Karasu, wearing a pair of swim trunks and nothing else, his jaw taut and his fists clenched as he inched towards the water. He hadn’t even noticed you, and you didn’t feel inclined to announce yourself, so you let your elbows dig into your thighs, your chin resting in your hands as you observed him.

You had known that he played soccer almost as long as you had known his name. It was the entire reason he was so popular and well-regarded in the school, and an inextricable part of his identity, but until now, you hadn’t quite considered what that actually meant. After all, you only ever saw him in the loose, modest clothing of the school’s uniform, so why would you jump to the conclusion that he was so — so — well, you were loath to admit it, but he had a striking body, and, now that he wasn’t being all cocky and maddening, you could appreciate that even his face was of a similar quality.

Blinking, you cocked your head as he extended a graceful foot towards the first stair leading into the shallow end. Water splashed against it, and he yanked it back like he had been scalded. You could not help yourself from giggling as he did this once and then twice again. On the third attempt, you forgot that the two of you weren’t acknowledging one another and cupped your hands around your mouth to amplify your voice.

“What are you doing?” you said.

“Who — Y/N? I didn’t realize anyone else was in here!” he said, stepping back from the pool and straightening his shorts, though there was nothing wrong with them that required straightening. You sprang to your feet and walked over to him, leaving wet footprints in your wake as you peered at him curiously.

“I was just going to do some laps to ensure that I’m at my best for the swimming unit next week. Did you have the same idea?” you said.

“Something like that,” he said.

“What’s with that whole ritual, though?” you said. “It’s not that cold. You should just get in.”

“Definitely not,” he said. You furrowed your brow.

“Okay,” you said. “Why are you at the pool, then, if you don’t want to go in the water?”

“It’s nothing you need to be concerned with!” he said. “Why are you so nosy? Just go away.”

“I was here first,” you said.

“Fine,” he said, spinning on his heel. “I’ll go, then.”

“Wait! Karasu, wait,” you said, grabbing onto his wrist as he made to leave. “Look, we don’t have to talk to one another or anything. We’re experienced enough at ignoring each other, so there’s not an issue in both of us being here.”

“Is that what you want?” he said.

“Yeah, sure,” you said. He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing, and you thought he would say something, but he only nodded curtly.

“Fine,” he said. You gave him an expectant look, but he did not move from the spot he was rooted in, so you thought that you might as well take the initiative. Looping around to the deep end, you inhaled and then dove into the water headfirst, staying under for as long as you could before finally surfacing and allowing yourself to settle into the familiar undulations that came with swimming.

After a few laps, you took a break, peeking up over the concrete to look at Karasu, who was still standing stubbornly in place, his nose wrinkling whenever he glanced at the pool.

“Hey,” you said. “Are you scared of the water or something?”

He froze. “Who told you that?”

“No one?” you said. “It’s pretty easy to tell as an onlooker. Were you planning on trying to get over your fear by coming to swim when no one was here? That’s dangerous if you don’t know how. You could drown.”

“I’m not scared of the water,” he said.

“Really? Then why’re you just standing there?” you said. His mouth opened and closed a few times, and then finally he hung his head in reluctant defeat.

“Whatever,” he said. Judging by the way he tensed immediately after the confession, he was expecting you to say something cruel, but you only boosted yourself out of the water and tapped him on the shoulder.

“I can help you, if you’d like,” you said. “I’m good at swimming.”

“Why would I want your help? And why would you even offer it in the first place? This is just one more subject you can beat me in, and that’s all you care about, so save it,” he said. “Congratulations, Y/N. You get to be number one this time.”

He looped a dry towel around his neck and left you standing alone, shivering and dripping pool water, a puddle forming around your feet as you gazed at the door he had vanished through.

The class rankings updated again after the swimming unit was over. You were in first place. Karasu didn’t even make it to the top ten. You wanted to celebrate the victory — it was the first time you had beaten him so thoroughly, after all — but for some reason, it didn’t really feel like something worth celebrating.

FOUR: STONE IT

School without Karasu was lonelier than you thought it would be. You hadn’t realized just how much you relied on him until he wasn’t there anymore. Without him, there wasn’t anyone you could exchange looks with across the room when somebody said something ridiculous in class. There wasn’t anyone who you could talk to in the minutes before the period began. There wasn’t anyone who made you push yourself to be better. What was the point of being first if Karasu wasn’t on your heels, ensuring that you stayed on the top for fear of losing to him? It was boring and lonely to try if he wasn’t doing the same.

You and he were still one and two, but it didn’t matter much anymore. The rankings were just numbers. They didn’t mean anything when Karasu still refused to even exchange pleasantries with you. Why would you want to compete when the other party didn’t share your interest? Now, if you managed to pull out ahead of him, it felt more like you had kicked a dog that was already down than if you had actually won anything. When he got first over you, it didn’t fuel your ambition any. You just wished he would come over and gloat instead of sitting there so solemnly, like none of it had ever mattered to him in the first place.

You couldn’t understand why he was so angry. What had you said that was so egregious? You hardly remembered the conversation you had had with him, it was that thoughtlessly done. You really hadn’t meant much if anything by it. One second, the two of you had been squabbling as you were prone to doing, and the next, he was so furious that he couldn’t bear to interact with you even still.

The day you were ambushed was nondescript. It was just like any other Wednesday, and you were walking back home from school when you were forced to stop in your tracks. A tall man — no, he was a boy, probably a year or two younger than you based on his soft and innocent expression — was barring your way, his arms outstretched and feet planted firmly in the ground to prove the depth of his conviction. He had pale hair and sky-colored eyes framed by the longest eyelashes you had ever seen on anyone, man or woman, with a small mouth pinched into an expression of discontent and lines like tire tracks between his eyebrows.

“Who are you?” you said warily, reaching for your phone, though you hardly knew who you would call. The setting was wrong for this to be a mugging, as it was sunny out and you were on a well-traveled street, but you didn’t really know what else to expect from the stranger, who could certainly outmuscle you if it came to it despite his lovely appearance.

“Yo Hiori,” he said. “I play on Bambi Osaka with Karasu. You’re Y/N L/N, correct?”

“Oh, one of the soccer guys?” you said. “Uh, hey. Yes, that’s me. Is something the matter? I’ve never seen you before. How do you even know who I am?”

“I’ve been watching Karasu for a while,” Hiori said with the utmost of seriousness, his hands dropping to his sides now that he was sure you weren’t going to run past him. “He’s a pretty fascinating person.”

“I’m sure,” you said, thinking to yourself that this Hiori kid was more than a little weird. Did Karasu know that he had acquired such a shadow? You supposed he must’ve. He had always been the observant type, so there was no way someone like Hiori would’ve escaped his keen notice.

“He’s been kind of down in the dumps recently, though. Even our coach noticed it. His playing hasn’t suffered too dramatically, but he’s the captain of the team, so he’s the guy everyone relies on for a funny pep talk or a word of advice when things are going south. Nowadays, however, when he’s off the field, he just sulks,” Hiori explained.

“I see,” you said. “That’s terrible.”

You meant it, too. Karasu without his asshole quips and ready jokes was a different person entirely. A person who you missed more than you could let on, even to yourself.

“It is,” Hiori said. “I took it upon myself to do some digging, and I’ve come to the conclusion that the reason is you.”

He was definitely a freak. You vowed to bring it up with Karasu, if he ever talked to you again. Even if he was already aware, it felt like a moral or civic duty of yours to ensure that he was fully informed about the extent that this child was inquiring into his life.

“What kind of, uh, digging do you mean?” you said, neatly avoiding the second thing he had said.

“It was pretty simple,” Hiori said. “One of the guys asked Karasu if he was acting off because he broke up with his girlfriend or something, and he got so mad that he left practice early. I opened up social media as soon as I got home and saw that you’re the only girl he follows, so by process of elimination, I figured the two of you were having some trouble in your relationship.”

“Relationship? I think you’re misunderstanding,” you said. “There’s no relationship. You could hardly even consider us friends.”

“Oh!” Hiori said. “I’m sorry. He’s mentioned you once or twice, so I just thought — and given what he said — and his reaction and all — no, I really am just sorry. It was wrong of me to make that assumption in the first place.”

“It’s alright,” you said. “I’m told it’s a relatively common misconception, so I can’t blame you. At least, it used to be. We haven���t really spoken in a while, so I guess everything thinks that it’s over, even though it never began in the first place.”

“You haven’t spoken in a while?” Hiori said. “Why not?”

“I think I said something that offended him, and we haven’t been on good terms since. Not that we ever really were in the first place,” you said.

“You did? He’s a pretty rational person, so it must’ve been something terrible for him to still be angry about it,” Hiori said.

“Maybe, but I don’t remember saying anything like that,” you said.

“What if you tell me how your last conversation went? Maybe I can help you,” he said.

“Sure, since you’re apparently the resident Karasu expert,” you said. “Wanna walk with me? I was heading home, but we can go to the convenience store and get some snacks or something instead. I don’t want to get in trouble for standing around in front of some random person’s house for too long.”

“Sounds good,” Hiori said. “There’s one a couple of minutes away, so we can head in that direction and keep talking as we go.”

“Great,” you said. “Okay, so the last time we talked…I think it was when Kenyu Yukimiya requested to follow me.”

“Who’s that?” Hiori said.

“He’s this model I met while I was shopping one day. Absolutely breathtaking,” you said. “Just really a stand-up guy. We’ve hung out a few times since then, he introduced me to the girlfriend I did not know he had, the works.“

“Yikes, unrequited love?” Hiori said with a wince.

“It was more of a celebrity crush. His girlfriend is super sweet, though, so I can’t complain. Anyways, I would consider them both casual acquaintances. The type you call to have a coffee with, but not the ones that help you move into a new apartment, you know?” you said.

“Uh, sure,” Hiori said in a tone which suggested he had no idea what you were talking about but was too scared to inquire further.

“Moving on, Yukimiya requested to follow me, and of course this was at the peak of my celebrity crush, so I started fawning over him, which prompted Karasu to take my phone and start insulting him,” you said.

“Interesting,” Hiori said.

“Then I called him ugly, and he called me ugly — that’s pretty standard for the two of us, so don’t look so shocked! After that, I said something about how I had expected him to be jealous of Yukimiya, since he didn’t have much going for him overall, so it made sense,” you said. “That’s when he left and things got weird.”

“Okay, I think I get it,” Hiori said. You waited for him to explain further. He smiled at you pleasantly.

“Right, so are you going to share with the class or am I meant to read your mind?” you said after a moment.

“I don’t want to give anything away that I shouldn’t,” he said. “But it’s a pretty simple issue to fix. Try thinking about what you said from his perspective.”

“He has a dumbass perspective. It’s impossible for me to think that way,” you said automatically.

“Do you think that he dislikes you?” Hiori said, taking two bottles of Yakult down from the shelf, handing one to you and keeping the other for himself.

“I’m not really sure how he feels about me, to tell you the truth,” you said.

“I don’t think he does,” Hiori said. “So, try thinking about someone you like and then imagine them saying to you what you said to them. Would you be inclined to be nice to them after that?”

“Well…” Your tongue was heavy and leaden in your mouth, and you ducked your head as you searched through your wallet for money. “No, not at all. I’d probably hate them for a really long time. Maybe forever.”

“That’s possible,” he said.

“Do you think he’ll hate me forever?” you said.

“Most likely not. Like I said earlier, he’s a rational person. I think that if you say sorry and sincerely mean it, he’ll forgive you. There’s a chance he won’t, though; you’ll have to listen to what he says and accept it,” Hiori said.

“But when? I hardly have the chance to see him in school. He just avoids me, and the building’s so big that it’s all but impossible to track him down!” you said.

“We have a soccer game in the evening today,” Hiori said. “I’m heading over there in a bit. Wanna come? You can talk to him once it’s over.”

“Am I allowed to?” you said.

“Why wouldn’t you be?” Hiori said. “If anyone says anything, just tell them I invited you. Here, I’ll give you the address and time now, and you can decide if you want to show up.”

“Okay,” you said, typing out his instructions in your notes app. “Thanks a lot for your help, Hiori.”

“Anytime!” he said. “Hope to see you at the game!”

“Even if I don’t go, I’d still like to meet you again. You’re a pretty cool kid,” you said, reaching up to ruffle his hair. “Kind of weird, if I’m being fully honest, but cool nonetheless. Karasu’s lucky to have a teammate like you.”

He grinned, and it was a tender, shy thing, as if he was earnestly seeking your praise or approval — like how a cat would bring a dead rat to its master or a child would show their parents a treasured drawing. “Thank you. Even if you don’t try to talk to Karasu…maybe you can still come anyways?”

“Alright, then,” you said. “Since you asked so nicely, I guess I have to. I’ll be there.”

FIVE: TAME IT

The sun was nearing the horizon, but it still had not officially begun to set by the time you settled in the bleachers on Bambi Osaka’s side. Besides a couple of women your mother’s age and an elderly man who must’ve been someone’s grandfather, there weren’t any other spectators. Hiori had mentioned that this wasn’t a particularly serious game, as they didn’t even need to beat the team to make it to Nationals, so it was more like a friendly exhibition game than anything — hence the low turnout.

“Hello, dear,” a woman said when she noticed you sitting by yourself. “Are you friends with one of the players?”

“Yes. Um, Tabito Karasu? I’m his classmate,” you said. Technically, you were there on Hiori’s goodwill, not Karasu’s, but for you to not mention Karasu would be like a betrayal. You weren’t sure if it was him or yourself that you’d be betraying, but either way you did not want to chance it.

“You’re one of Karasu’s friends? Lucky you, then,” she said. “He’s a delightful boy, or so I’ve heard. This is my son’s first year on the team, and he was really nervous to join such a prestigious organization, but ever since his first day, all he can talk about is how amazing his captain is. Karasu’s tough on all of the players, but he really works hard to make all of them feel welcomed, too.”

Bambi Osaka’s team took the field, and you smiled when you saw Karasu in the front, his name across the back of his jersey, a pair of black gloves covering his large hands, an insolent leer on his face as he greeted the other team’s captain. He had not noticed you yet, and you were not sure if this was for the better or worse, because you wanted him to see you, but you didn’t want him to be distracted and play poorly as a result.

“He’s a wonderful person,” you agreed. “He’s the only one in the entire school who can keep up with me, academically or otherwise. I didn’t realize until recently how much I admire him for that.”

The woman’s eyes crinkled around the corners with the ease that came from a lifetime of happiness. For some reason, you thought that she knew something you did not, or could not, but it wasn’t uncomfortable that she did. It seemed to you that being left in the dark was just your lot this time around, and you found that oddly enough, it felt acceptable.

“Is this your first time coming to watch him?” she said.

“Yes, it is,” you said.

“You know, he has this habit before every match of scanning the stands, like he’s looking for someone. I thought it might be his parents, but at the last match, just about his entire family showed up, and he still seemed disappointed,” she said.

“That’s a shame,” you said noncommittally, not sure what else you should say. The woman shrugged.

“Well, I wonder what it’ll be like today,” she said. “There he goes.”

True to her words, Karasu was craning his neck towards the Bambi Osaka side, his eyes darting from person to person until they settled on you. You raised your hand hesitantly, waving at him, knowing that he probably wouldn’t reciprocate.

He turned away almost immediately, but not before you saw him fight back a smile — not the smug type he generally donned, but one you had only ever seen on him once or twice. It was one that made him seem charming and boyish and sweet, that made you want to take back every negative word you had ever said about him. Only now could you understand that it showed who he really was, that at his heart Karasu was that kind of person, not anything like the facade you were so accustomed to, which he showed you for the sole reason that it was what you unconsciously demanded of him.

You had judged him to be horrible, and so he became the bane of your existence. You had told him he was good for nothing, so he disappeared like he really was just that. Everything you said, Karasu went along with gamely, and you wished you could’ve known that earlier, so you would’ve spent less time hating him and more time comprehending these intricacies, which entranced you in the way a spider’s web entranced a butterfly.

“Looks like I don’t need to worry about that child any more,” the woman said as the referee blew the whistle to signal the start of the game.

“Pardon?” you said. “Were you talking to me?”

“No, no,” she said, shaking her head. “I was just musing to myself. Ignore me. Let’s watch the game; I have a feeling that some of our players are going to go all out today.”

Bambi Osaka completely annihilated the other team. Maybe the match didn’t matter, but none of them played that way; instead, they were aggressive and focused, with Karasu at the forefront of every goal they made, commending his teammates and deriding his opposition in the same breath.

That was something you had not expected — he had a massively foul mouth when he played soccer. You had thought that he was rude when he spoke to you, but the things you overheard from him whenever he ran by within earshot made your conversations seem tame. You couldn’t help but pity the poor defenders that he shoved past and spat barbed-wire abuse at.

He was merciless and beautiful and you could probably spend a dozen more hours watching him play without even a trace of boredom, but by the time the sky had turned gold and the sun had dipped towards the ground, the game was over and the members of Bambi Osaka were packing up their things to leave for the night after yet another landslide win.

You snuck onto the field once you were extremely assured that nobody would be upset with you for it, making your way over to where Karasu was chugging a bottle of water.

“Hi,” you said when he was finished, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and tossing the now-empty bottle into his bag. “You played really well.”

“Thanks,” he said. There was impatience but also longing in his voice, like he wanted you to say something so badly but he knew you would not, would never, and so he would rather get the conversation over with and move on with the business of his life than stick around and waste time with you.

“I’m sorry,” you said.

“What?” he said.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “Karasu, I’m really sorry. I don’t think that you have nothing going for you. I don’t know why I said that. Well, I do, it’s because I wanted to have the last word like I always do, but I don’t mind if I don’t have it this time. Or any other time. Or ever again.”

“What?” he repeated, as though he had been rendered dumb by your confession.

“I miss you,” you admitted. “I didn’t believe I could, but apparently, I can, and I do. A lot. I know that I’m unpleasant and disparaging and haughty when it comes to you, but I won’t be that way anymore if you forgive me for my vices one last time. If it means you’ll talk to me, I’ll be a fool. I’ll be in second place. I’ll be an idiot. But please, please forgive me.”

He took a deep breath. You handed him the bottle of kombucha that you had bought on your way to the game because you saw him drink it so frequently that you figured he must like it. He accepted it gingerly, holding it with the delicacy of a newborn, unscrewing the lid and sipping on it pensively.

“Alright,” he said.

“Alright?” you said.

“I’ll forgive you,” he said. “But on one condition.”

“Anything,” you said.

“You better not do anything as dumb as trying to be mediocre on purpose because you think it’ll make me feel better. What the hell is that proposition, huh? It’ll make me feel worse if anything! I like you because you’re unpleasant and disparaging and haughty and whatever else you said, not in spite of those qualities. I’m sure you heard me while I was playing…anyone who isn’t you would probably be terrified of me when I’m like that,” he said. “Just, y’know, I’m a person with feelings, too, so keep that in mind if you can. Oh, and don’t wait so long to say sorry next time, because it’s seriously annoying for me to feel all out-of-sorts for ages!” he said.

“That’s it?” you said.

“That’s it,” he said. “Hug?”

Ordinarily, you would’ve said no, but you were so weepy at the reconciliation that you nodded and let him embrace you, his arms caging you against his chest, holding you to him so that you could not escape.

“Ew!” you shouted when you registered what he was trying to do, shoving him off of you as he cackled and released you without much of a fight. “Gross, Karasu, you’re disgusting! Get away from me! I can’t believe you did that!”

“I can’t believe you fell for it!” he said as you frantically tried to wipe yourself off, though it was largely in vain. In your emotional state, you had forgotten that he was still drenched with sweat from the game, and you were now reaping the consequences of your poor decision making.

“You’re a bad person,” you said.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said. “Whatever you say.”

“I probably deserved that one, though, so I won’t hold it against you,” you said.

“Smart decision,” he said. “Wait. Unrelated, but whatever ended up happening between you and that model dude? What was his name again?”

“Yukimiya? He has a girlfriend,” you said. “Oh, well. What can you do, right? I’m not upset about it. Besides, everyone and their mother thinks I have a boyfriend already, so it’s probably for the best that it worked out like this. I wouldn’t want his modeling career to be ruined by home-wrecking allegations or anything.”

“It must be a pretty serious not-relationship you’ve got there, if it’s the career-ending type,” he said.

“I’d say it’s pretty serious, yes,” you said. “He’s an awesome guy. You’d like him.”

“I’ll respect it, then,” he said. “But…if you ever find yourself not-breaking up with him, then, uh, let me know. I’ll take you on a date somewhere. We can argue and reminisce about the day we met over dinner or something. It’ll be super romantic.”

He said it casually, but you were more familiar with him than either of you ever could’ve predicted you’d be. He was secretly nervous about how big of a risk he had taken, fiddling with the zipper of his soccer bag, avoiding your eyes while he waited for your response. You let the silence stretch on for a minute, just to make him squirm, and then you poked him in the ribs.

“Karasu,” you said.

“What’s up?” he said, and he must’ve been trying very hard to keep his cool, but his anxiety transmitted through the endearing crack of his voice.

“I have to tell you something,” you said.

“Go ahead,” he said.

“I’m not-single now,” you said. “So. Will you take me on a date this weekend?”

He lit up, so bright that you were all but blinded by the brilliance of his joy. Then he cleared his throat and pretended to check the non-existent watch on his wrist.

“You’re in luck,” he said. “That works for me. I’ll pick you up on Saturday for dinner.”

“Great,” you said. “I look forward to it.”

“Hold on, don’t go just yet,” he said. You paused, about to ask him what else he needed when he stooped over and pressed his lips to your cheek. “Thanks for coming to my game. I’m not really sure how you knew I was playing, but I’m glad you could make it either way.”

“Um — uh — Hiori told me, he told me you were playing, and, er, where to go and what time and all,” you stammered, trying to wrap your head around what had just happened, replaying it in your mind over and over.

“Hiori? I should’ve known he’d be the type to meddle like that,” he said. “I’m not even going to ask how you know each other. The answer will probably make me feel vaguely discomfited, so I’ll abide by an ‘ignorance is bliss’ policy.”

“That’s probably for the best,” you said, composing yourself, though internally, you were imagining what it would be like if you had turned your head, if instead of your cheek his lips had landed somewhere else. “Okay, I should go now. See you on Saturday?”

“One last thing. You’re pretty transparent, you know,” he said, grasping your chin in his left hand and leaning in. Your eyelashes fluttered shut as he grew closer and closer, but right when his mouth was a hair’s breadth from yourself, he chuckled. “Also, pretty gullible.”

Instead of kissing you like you had anticipated he would, he tackled you in another hug. You squealed in protest, but he held fast, his body rumbling with laughter as you simultaneously struggled to escape and clung onto him as tightly as you could.

“I hate you,” you said when your half-hearted efforts proved to be entirely futile.

“Sure you do,” he said.

“You’re the worst,” you said.

“Absolutely,” he said.

“I’m being serious here. You smell!” you said.

“Well, that’s plain rude of you to say,” he said, messing up your hair in what you were sure he deemed to be a punishment, as if being crushed against his sweaty form wasn’t punishment enough.

“Let go of me, you idiot crow!” you said.

“No can do,” he said. “Crows are clingy birds, you know. Even the idiotic ones. Ask me again in twenty years and maybe we can revisit the issue.”

“Karasu!”

[quietzap]

how do you navigate your feelings towards ziam and cheryl/bear/kate/maya on top of this immense grief? i don't mean to be insensitive but i haven't found an answer for myself yet, i can't believe we'll never get answers now

(To anyone seeing this, read until the end before saying anything thank you.) Well. I'm gonna ramble a bit but bear with me. Spotify played Let Me and Common on shuffle the other day and I cried a bit. It's unfair. It should've never ended this way. But I had already accepted ages ago that we might never know the truth. I still have my beliefs. That Zayn and Liam were together. Maybe they had broken up who knows but if they did then I still truly believe their bond was a once-in-a-lifetime thing. I've gone through so many emotions this past week. But seeing the posts of cheryl etcetc or people mentioning bear (Zayn was the only one who didn't fwiw), it didn't make me feel anything. Maybe bc I had already accepted we couldn't do anything about the stunts, and/or maybe bc it's still difficult for me to accept he's really gone or bc it doesn't matter to me at this moment. Or bc I haven't actually sat down to think about what it means that he's gone. I've just been thinking of the pain all of Liam's loved ones are in right now and will be in for the foreseeable future. And I include Zayn in this. I also don't really want to think about it bc I think I might get angry. We've all seen Liam's video on snapchat from last month, where he said he was stunting and forced to do things he didn't want to do and to send help. I often used to say that I didn't understand why the boys accepted this situation instead of just getting out, consequences be damned. Ofc it's easier said than done. But I thought maybe they thought it was worth it in some way. But then, Louis got out. Zayn got out. (In some way, I mean they have privacy and a real career, like Niall and Harry). I guess I will never understand why Liam was still the only one so stuck in this shitty situation. Why couldn't he live his life in peace like Zayn and only appear when he released music? Why couldn't he find a better team or why did he even accept to go along for so long? Why did people let him? Why?! That's what I want to know. Fucking why. And I want Liam's image/reputation to be redeemed. Anyway I digressed I'm sorry.

I just sincerely hope Zayn will be ok. Jaymi who was in Union J lost his soon-to-be-husband a couple months ago (Olly was buried the day they were supposed to get married last month). They'd been together for 14 years. And Olly died in similar circumstances (a fall from the 3rd floor of a hotel). And as incredibly awful as this is, knowing that other people are going through similar grief helps a bit, and I hope it will help Zayn and Liam's loved ones know they're not alone. (Edit: I'm not saying these deaths are linked, Olly's death is an accident, Jaymi was there when it happened. This paragraph is about not being fully alone in grief because other ppl go through similar things).

Idek if I've answered your question. I guess basically the stunts don't cross my mind coz it's not important to me. These past few years when Liam was alive it wasn't important (tho I hated it) bc I accepted the boys made their own choices. And now it's not important bc it won't bring Liam back and bc his loved ones matter more to me. Now, if I'm actually wrong about my beliefs then it is what it is and I feel for his exes/gf/child, and if the maya thing is true I still think addiction made him act that way and that if he'd got a chance to really get better this wouldn't have happened again. If I'm not wrong tho, I truly feel for Zayn who doesn't get to grieve the way he deserves to. Tho I'm glad he has loved ones who know the truth and who can support him the right way.

I hope this helps. Feel free to tell me if you want to discuss this further or anything ❤️

(Link to the videos of Liam from snapchat: x)

[seiwas]

sniff hiccs i’m back begging for mattsun + friends -> lovers + stomach (ALSO ILY)

thanks for sending saint!! sorry i'm getting to this so late, ily 🥺

mattsun + stomach + friends -> lovers

contains: pining mattsun, christmas fluff!, seijoh 4 dynamics bc ofc they are a scheming conniving bunch, kind of ambiguous?? but there is def something, suggestive innuendos, fluff!!!!!!!!

ugly christmas sweaters aren't issei's thing. not one bit.

they're itchy, first and foremost, and you'd think, with something that horrendous, they might as well have some kind of redeeming quality (like wool-soft thermal lining)—but nope, they're equally as uncomfortable as they are ugly.

the hem of this year's sweater, in particular, rides up his disproportionally long torso, making it impossible for him to reach forward or upward for anything. the cuffs of his sleeves land at that awkward length that just barely covers his wrists, leaving his fingertips cold. for issei, an essential criteria of any good sweater is that the sleeves must be long enough for him to pull over his knuckles—a quality that this one definitely does not have.

plus, it's ugly. (did he already mention that?)

"oh shit," takahiro wheezes, holding in his laughter as he reads the text on issei's sweater. he bites down his side comment and nods his head instead, "i respect it."

issei stares at him, deadpan.

since arriving at hajime's apartment for your group's yearly christmas celebration, issei's kept himself confined to the kitchen. there are many reasons for this: one, the alcohol is much easier to refill back here; two, not everyone's arrived yet; and three—

"'unwrap me, baby?'" hajime steps into the space, eyebrow raised as he tilts his head at the very obvious red bow adorning issei's sweater. the gold text on the fabric is even more evident.

"i swear," takahiro tells hajime as he swings an arm around issei's shoulder, "if this isn't his profession of lo―"

"shut the fuck up," the taller male elbows him as hajime chuckles across the room, "it's the stupid theme."

issei hates christmas sweaters, and yet every year, without fail, you manage to rope him in to wearing one away. regardless of its stupid theme.

"well, they should be around ten minutes out," hajime replies, checking the notifications on his smart watch, "so if you plan to… you know…”

issei shrugs, taking another sip from his glass of gin, "s'just a small crush."

but everyone knows it's much more than that.

.

you and tooru arrive with arms full of gifts. one by one, you approach them, present in one hand as you go in for a hug with the other. it's a typical, normal thing you do, but his heart instantly hammers the moment you stand in front of him. the soft smile you give him is one he knows well, and if he wants to be a little hopeful, it's one he thinks you give to him, alone, too.

your arm wraps around issei's waist as you lean in for a hug, the blend of your shampoo and perfume hitting him all at once. the alcohol has done much to ease his mind, but little to dull his senses, his arm instinctively bringing you closer. when you linger in his hold for just that bit longer, all his thoughts turn silent.

everyone’s known of this thing between you and issei for a while; it's hard not to notice after all the years of mutual pining and undeniable chemistry. it’s even gotten to the point that tooru’s added the event of you and issei getting together to his christmas wishlist.

but, you always say you don't think issei sees you like that, because if he did, he would have said something by now. which, to issei's defense, the only reason he hasn't said anything is because the last time someone tried to ask you out, you said, "i'm not looking for a relationship right now."

takahiro argues that it's been a few years since then, and that your answer would have been very different should issei have been the one to ask. but still.

"'santa baby, oh baby yes baby,'" hajime squints at your christmas sweater, reading the words slowly.

"dude, you have to stop reading that shit out loud," takahiro groans.

tooru laughs from the couch, "unwrap me, baby’ and that? cute! you’re talking through your sweaters."

issei's expression remains unbothered as he watches you turn shy, meeting his eyes for a brief moment before walking over to join tooru on the couch.

"at least issei's the only one who takes the themes seriously,” you jokingly huff and pout.

.

issei should have known his friends were up to no good tonight, with the outright teasing and the weird way hajime’s been acting this entire time.

the kitchen is surprisingly full right after dinner; cleanup duty is typically left to you and issei because it’s the only other thing the both of you can do—plus, it makes for a perfect combination: your speediness in cleaning the countertops and his ease in handling dinner plates make for an efficient team.

but tonight, everyone’s seemed to fit themselves into the tiny space, pushing you closer and closer to one another.

“mattsun, can you pass that big bowl in the cupboard?” tooru calls out, pointing at the space overhead.

issei’s gaze follows the direction of his finger, his arm reaching up high to get it.

then, it happens too quickly after that.

from an ‘accidental’ bump to a slight shove, hajime backs up into takahiro who manages to push you out of balance, leading you to cling on to the next best thing to keep you standing—

which just so happens to be issei’s stomach, lean muscles and smooth skin on full display from the way his christmas sweater has ridden up while reaching for the bowl that tooru just so happened to coincidentally ask for.

he shivers almost instantly—whether from the coolness of your fingertips or the plain fact that it’s you, he has yet to determine.

you look flustered, apologising profusely as you turn to move away, but as everyone else seems to exit the space, issei puts his hand over yours to keep you in place.

the action makes you still.

“you okay?” he manages, still a little dazed as his eyes look for yours.

the stare you return is a mixed bag of shock, confusion, and uncertainty—as if you’re not sure if you’re reading into this correctly.

so maybe it’s the alcohol, but when he jokingly asks, “taking ‘unwrapping me’ literally, huh?” while motioning to his sweater, he doesn’t think much beyond the intention of trying to lighten up the mood—of trying to make you laugh despite the awkwardness of the situation.

your eyebrows shoot up briefly before you dissolve into stifled laughs. the hand you’d rested on his stomach relaxes and you feel him do the same, his subtle sigh of relief blowing small wisps of hair away from your forehead.

this is enough for him—just the two of you in the kitchen, laughing over another one of these mishaps like it’s happened plenty of times before (because it has; too many times that he wonders if it’s normal for friends to find themselves in these situations).

but you push it just that bit further and tease him back, snorting as you mimic the words on your sweater, “guess i should say ‘santa baby, oh baby yes baby.’”

and if you both notice the evident hardness pressing into your thigh, neither you nor issei says a thing about it.

a/n: this def crosses a boundary in their friendship and they get together after a few days, just in time for new year’s 😌 unmentioned but reader has also had the fattest crush on mattsun since forever, they’re just really good at hiding it. and reader also thinks that mattsun is just naturally flirty with everyone else (he isn’t).

[lanawinterscigarettes]

Can you write more for Blair Waldorf? Literally whatever you wanna write pleaseeee

omg yes ofc! I love blair sm so I really hope you like this <3

Bouquets and Butterflies (Blair Waldorf x gn reader)

Warnings: mild swearing, the reader is a bit of a nervous wreck here but it's in a fluffy and cute way I promise <3

Blair Waldorf, aka Queen B. The most formidable girl at Constance, a person that no one dared to mess with because of the consequences that would surely follow after. She's who you had a crush on.

Who could blame you, though? She was as gorgeous as she was frightening, as ambitious as she was demanding. In your eyes, she was perfect.

Of course you were terrified to tell her that, given her reputation. You'd be lying if you said you weren't a little scared at the thought of her not only rejecting you, but also humiliating you in the process. You'd never leave your bed again if that happened.

Luckily for you, there was one person who seemed especially eager to help you win her over: her best friend, Serena van der Woodsen herself. She knew the ins and outs of the cold-hearted queen better than anyone did. With her guidance, it would be so much easier to get on Blair's good side.

"If you need help with figuring out what to get her, I suggest starting with something small yet meaningful," Serena suggested while walking with you down the busy streets of New York. "Like clothing or a piece of jewelry."

"I don't know what she likes, though," you said in turn, a slight frown tugging at your lips while you contemplated your options. "Besides, there's no way I'd be able to afford a Blair Waldorf signature piece. I'm not Chuck, you know."

"Ooh, look!" Serena grabbed you by the arm to get your attention as she pointed to the florist across the street, stopping you in your tracks. "Why don't we go look at the flowers?"

"Does she even like flowers?" You questioned while letting her drag you from one side of the street to the other, being careful to watch out for traffic as you went. "Blair doesn't seem like the type of person to enjoy things that end up dying after only a few days."

"I promise you, if you get her a bouquet of her favorite flowers she'll love you forever," the blonde insisted while quickly ushering you inside. "Peonies are her favorite, especially the pink ones. Get some of those."

Picking up one of the bouquets, you glanced over at her with a slightly apprehensive look. "Are you sure?" You didn't think something as small as flowers would impress Blair Waldorf, but you knew you needed to trust Serena's judgement on this if you didn't want to drive yourself crazy overthinking.

"I'm sure. Here, I'll even pay for them for you so long as you promise to invite me to your wedding."

You felt your face heat up at her teasing words. "Serena! Don't say something like that," you whisper-shouted as you gave her a light shove, which only made her giggle. "We don't even know if me giving her these is going to make her like me or not, so don't go making stupid jokes about marriage yet."

"Alright, alright, fine," she conceded with a playful smirk while taking the flowers to go pay for. "But I'm telling you, she's going to love them."

The next day at school, Blair waited impatiently on the steps at the front entrance, checking the time yet again as she rolled her eyes. Leave it to Serena to be late.

"Um, Blair?"

She whipped her head around in the direction she heard the shy voice come from, only to see you standing there. From what she could tell, you looked pretty nervous. "Yes?"

You audibly gulped at her cold tone, trying to muster up the courage to continue speaking. All you have to do is hand her the flowers, and then you're done, you thought. Just get on with it already.

"I, uh- I got you these."

Her eyebrow quirked upwards in curiosity, her brown eyes widening when you presented her with the peonies you'd been hiding rather clumsily behind your back. You got her a gift? But why?

It was almost as if you could read her mind, because your next words seemed to answer her question. "I got them because they're your favorite, and they're as beautiful as you are," you said while handing her the bouquet, a nervous smile on your lips.

Most people only ever did things for her like this because they were expecting something in return, so naturally she was a bit suspicious, but you seemed genuine from what she could tell. "How'd you know peonies are my favorite?" She questioned in an almost interrogating manner, but you didn't even miss a beat.

"Serena told me. I didn't want to ask you because that would ruin the surprise, and I didn't want to get you something you wouldn't like, so I got her to help me."

No wonder she'd been acting so sneaky recently and flaked out the other day when Blair asked her to go shopping. That was probably when she was helping you.

"I hope you're not expecting anything in return for this," she spoke in what was an attempt at her usually firm and stand-offish tone, something that wasn't quite as ironclad as she'd hoped given just how giddy she secretly felt on the inside.

"Of course not. You don't give gifts to people because you expect something from them, you give them to show just how much you appreciate them," you stated matter-of-factly, watching her with an expression on your face that could only be described as one thing: lovestruck. You'd fallen for her, and as much as she hated to admit it she was starting to fall for you too.

"Well, thank you anyway. I appreciate them," she curtly replied before doing a brief shooing motion with her hand as a sign that it was time for you to leave.

You'd already expected as much, so it didn't surprise you. "Bye, Blair. Have a nice day," you warmly spoke while leaving, making your way up the steps to the school so you could start heading to class.

Have a nice day. That wasn't something she got told often, unless it was by Dorota as she was leaving in the morning. Her stomach was churning, and it wasn't even in a bad way.

It felt like she had small butterflies fluttering all throughout her body, making a home there after being sent by the bouquet of peonies you gifted her. You were making her feel flustered for once in her life. How dare you.

"Hey, B." The voice of Serena cut through her thoughts, her hands instinctively clutching onto the bouquet tighter, almost as though she was worried they might be snatched away. "Whatcha got there?" The look on her bestie's face was smug, as if she hadn't played any part in helping you get them.

"Just a gift," the brunette replied stiffly, clearly not intent on giving away too much information even if the other girl already knew everything.

Serena simply laughed and flung her arm around her shoulders. "Come on, let's get to class. We don't wanna be late."

Blair allowed herself to be led up the steps, still holding protectively onto the bouquet as she went. She discreetly brought them up to her nose on occasion and took a brief whiff, inhaling the sweet scent of the flowers.

Damn you for already making her feel so intrigued by this one simple act. She was going to have to find out more about you, though one thing was certain: you already had her hooked.

End notes: if you guys ever want a part two to this just let me know! I'd be happy to write one 🥰

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