#I respect that someone took the time to write and post a fic (especially when I never have)

[happypeachsludgeflower]

“No beta we die like men” and thank god they’re dead

[creatingblackcharacters]

"It takes HOW LONG?" Black Hair is an Art (pt.2)

(This is part two of the hair lessons, focusing on writing/narratives. If you want to know how the styles LOOK, refer to part 1 and its addendum)

Now that you know what our hair actually looks like, we’re going to discuss incorporating that into your writing (original fic, fanfic, webcomics, anything with a narrative). You don’t HAVE to give us a dissertation on "how you studied 'The Black People’s Hair'" in your story. That’s not what I’m asking you to do. I’m just asking you to CONSIDER the effort and existence of it. The same way you put effort into discussing nonblack hair textures? Should be the sort of tenderness and care you put into discussing ours. It does not stand to reason that I have read thousands of stories describing "the silky, black/blonde tresses/waves that fell down their pale back as their lover ran their fingers through them", but Black readers have nothing of the sort to compare to without seeking our own authors out. Our hair deserves some loving and adoration too!

This is a very long post describing hairstyles and how they can correspond to your character's design and decisions, so I'll put a read more here. The sections are organized into 'Twist Out', 'Afros', 'Locs', 'Braids', 'Black Men', and 'Straight Hair' if you Ctrl F. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE take your time to read all of this at some point though, as I put a lot of resources and explanation into this. I'm trusting you!

The History

As I discussed in the last lesson, our hair is incredibly important to us, and part of that includes the vulnerability and trust that comes along with access to it. This is due to a long history of oppression. There’s a racist history of making Black women hide our hair, as if it would ‘tempt white men’ away, regardless of it were due to actual attraction or the (more likely) rape of Black women. There’s a racist history of touching our hair, as though we are animals or zoo exhibits. We aren’t just going to let anyone touch our heads, so DON'T write that, unless you are doing so to show that it is a microaggression towards your character. Even now, cultural appropriation is rampant. If I were to wear cornrows with hoops, it'd be seen as 'ghetto' or 'gang-like'. Meanwhile, it is a fashion statement for white women. When Miles G Morales showed up in Across the Spiderverse, animators specifically chose cornrows for him, but many people mistakenly took it to me that he was 'rougher and tougher' than the original Miles. This was a racist perception! Hearing the Fade get hyped up in the news as the 'Travis Kelce', when Black men and especially NFL players have been wearing it for DECADES to crickets... it hurts lmao. Point is, you can describe and respect Black hair without being racist about it. Okay? Okay.

Vulnerability

YOUR CHARACTERS NEED TO BE CLOSE BEFORE ALLOWING THEM TO TOUCH THEIR HAIR!!!

It needs to be someone they TRUST wholeheartedly. Again, do NOT let a stranger touch their hair unless it’s meant to be an uncomfortable situation!

Consider CONSENT! Consent is ALWAYS beautiful! Have your other characters (Black or not) ASK to touch your Black characters’ hair! And not in the ‘Oh can I touch it?’ way. But if they’re really close friends or dating, have them ask to help do their braids, or wash their hair, or even just to stroke their hair and face! Or if your Black character is injured with a head wound, and they have to tend to them, have them ask! The asking shows a level of care and respect for your Black character and their body! At any point the consent may be revoked, and that needs to be respected! If they let them tend their head wound, but then smack their hand away after, that’s not ‘rude’- they’re allowed to do that, especially to signify that they aren’t at that level of trust yet. That's still angsty!

One great example of love from a Black character is doing their partner’s hair, or allowing their partner to do their hair. The ‘Hair-washing’ fic is a common thing in fanfiction; we all understand how that shows the depth of the trust in the relationship between the characters. How would you write about that trust with a Black character, if you don’t know what goes into taking care of their hair? If you don’t even know what their hair looks or feels like? The lack of awareness will show, and what should be a beautiful, deep moment will fall flat for Black readers. I wrote one once for my character with locs, and it honestly made me tear up because I realized that I’d never seen one, at least not in the majority white spaces that the fandoms I was in were.

Think about it- how often have you read a hair-washing fic with a Black character? Was it accurate? Would you know if it was accurate? Have you spoken to or heard anyone Black in your fandom space talk about it? Do you know anyone Black in your fandom space to ask? It’s things like this that we have to consider!

If you have a character that is nonblack in a relationship with your Black character, that honestly reveals even more trust because there’s a long history (again) behind that NOT happening! In life, we can’t go to the same places. I can’t go to a white hair salon or barbershop. They won’t know what to do! People are allowed to go through hair school without learning how to work with different, thicker textures. It’s not right nor fair, but it’s a part of the casual, systemic racism in our lives.

My feelings on what Lestat symbolizes aside, the scene where he plays with Louis’ curls in AMC's IWTV was an intelligent way to show that closeness, and how a nonblack character would affectionately play with a Black character’s hair! How he works with the curl in his fingers, rather than trying to pet Louis or run his fingers through- it was an intelligent move on Sam and Jacob’s part as actors to understand that THAT’S how that would go down!

If you have a character that wants to show a violation of your Black characters’ space, touching/harming our hair is cruelty on a very personal level that will generate an extreme reaction.

Think About Your Character!

When thinking about your Black character’s hairstyle, you need to think about your character themselves! What do they do every day? What are their hobbies? Are they Type A, Type B personality? Do they have a lot of time? Are they always in a rush? Are they noncommittal? Are they self-conscious? Artsy? Serious? Are they in a time period where the means to care for their hair are limited?

People make jokes and comments about how Black women don’t like getting our hair wet and dismiss our concerns. But it’s not out of ‘silliness’ or vanity. What you consider ‘just hair’ may have taken days of planning in advance and HOURS of our time! We put a lot of thought and effort into our hair, and it will easily shatter the illusion for your Black readers if you describe our hair poorly or create an unlikely scenario with it. It’s not a joke!

Some Terms:

Protective styles- a style that allows our hair to ‘rest’ with minimal manipulation

‘Tender-headed’- some people’s scalps are more sensitive to the tightness of styles, so it’ll hurt a little bit more and require some more gentleness (Regardless it’s still going to hurt for a bit after a fresh style)

Bonnets- a silk/satin cap of varying lengths that we wear at night to protect our hair and keep the moisture in

Loc Sock- same idea, but for locs

Durag- keeps short haircuts protected; can even help create the wave pattern that many Black men enjoy

Scarf- same idea as the bonnets, except scarfs can be used specifically for straight hairstyles to wrap them up to keep it straight and neat

(It'll seem real legit if you include your Black characters wearing their headcoverings at night! I remember laughing while reading Twilight because I knew that if Edward snuck into my room at night, he'd see me in my scarf or bonnet lmao.)

General Hair Care:

While I don’t completely agree with some of the advertising in this first one (it’s the internet. Can’t go nowhere without someone trying to hawk something) it’s cool in general to explain how our hair looks the way it does.

If you have Black children OCs, it’s important to consider that their parents have to do their hair, and how that will be its own experience! (It can be very stressful for Black children to get their hair done, as it takes a long time and can be physically uncomfortable. There are plenty of stories of burnt ears and tugged tangles and not very nice old women. Children are children! Keep in mind how they may behave while getting the style of your choice.

Moisturizing to keep healthy

Twist Outs

Cute twist out styles

Twist outs are a style that takes overnight to hold, or maybe even a few days! The cool thing is that the twists themselves can be the style! So the tighter you want their curls to be, the longer they’ll wear the twists in. If you want to describe your character with tighter curls, there needs to be a section of time where their hair remains in the twists! If your character has an event, and they want twists… this needs to be done in advance. Your character will NOT untwist them the day of, unless they want weak, limp curls (or you want the scene to compose of them having weak curls).

How long they'll last depends on the activity of your character! If all they do is work a desk job, or they don’t sweat very much, the twists can last some time! But if they sweat, or wear hats or caps, it’s not going to last long. Maybe a week.

Pros: Very versatile! If you have a character that loves trying new looks and enjoy being spontaneous, twist outs are for them! Easy! If your Black character is younger, or haven’t done their hair before, this is a great way for them to start working with their hair! Doesn’t take long (to do)! If your character is in a rush, and they do their twists, they can go just about anywhere. If they’re not self-conscious, this will be just fine.

Cons: It cannot get wet again, or the style will puff up back into your natural texture. It does not last long enough to say “oh my character went on a two year long fantasy adventure with this style.” If you want your character to have a twist out the whole time, they’re going to have to take time to do it. It would be cool if you incorporate a scene where they’re working on their hair, maybe in the background while everyone’s discussing plans or something. Just a reminder that their hair isn’t just staying magically twisted (unless they have the magic to do that).

Afros

Afro Style Guide, Style Guide for Men (works for any gender though)

Wash & Gos are just that- wash it (or really, condition it, you don’t have to shampoo it every time) dry with a t-shirt (to prevent breakage), put some oil and a light crème on it, fluff it up and you’re good to go! Maybe an hour at max and can be done while getting dressed in the morning!

Pros: Easy! If they’re doing a full, combed out afro, it’s not as simple, it will take more time. And at night it has to be plaited so that it maintains its length, otherwise it will tangle. But other than that, that’s still not all that hard. They can show off their curls! Black characters can and should have pride in their hair. It’s beautiful. This is the opportunity that you as an author can describe the pure texture of their hair, how it shines in the light, how the coils look, how soft it is! Romanticize Black hair the same way you do anyone else’s!

Cons: None really! Afros are wonderful! Just make sure that your character has a way to keep their hair from getting tangled. Just because it’s easy doesn’t mean there’s no maintenance! A pick, a bonnet, oil and water go a long way!

Locs

Five stages of locs

A person who does locs is a loctician.

Can be palm-rolled or interlocked/crocheted

I cannot emphasize enough that you do not want just anyone doing their locs! They can really mess up someone’s hair if they don’t know what they’re doing. I say that to say, for your character, if they don’t trust the person doing their hair… they should. They should not be walking into anyone’s place to get their hair locked; they’d do research first.

The time it takes locs to ‘bud’ (that is, to actually form the loc) depends on the texture of their hair. But it can take up to 3 months to even a year for them to actually ‘loc up’. So if your character just got locs, they’re not going to look neat. They’re going to be frizzy.

As long as they’re washing their hair, keeping it moisturized, and not using wax products (DO NOT HAVE ANY BLACK CHARACTER USE WAX PRODUCTS IT IS BAD FOR BLACK HAIR) it’ll last forever! Locs are incredibly strong, especially the thicker they get! It is recommended that locs are retwisted every six weeks, but if your character has freeform locs, doesn’t have the money or time right now, or they just aren’t that pressed, they can grow indefinitely.

Something cute to write in your stories: sometimes locs do just… fall out. Not the whole thing! But the same way thin hair gets everywhere… sometimes the ends of thin locs just… fall off! You’ll find little buds on the ground. This happens especially in the budding stage.

Pros: Very low daily maintenance! At most they’ll need a bonnet or loc sock, and oil/water mix to spritz and massage in. Strong style that can hold any look- buns, curls, etc. They can be dyed, though it will take a long time to do so. I say that to say, if you want your character to have bright green locs, go for it!!

Cons: Low daily, but HIGH wash day maintenance! So if your character has a fancy date or something to go on, they should not be getting their hair retwisted the same day, or at least not so close to. It’s going to be shiny, oily, and tight, which can cause discomfort. Give them the day to let the hair settle!

Locs are PERMANENT!! This isn’t a bad thing, as much as it is a ‘KNOW WHAT YOU’RE DOING BEFORE YOU DO IT’ thing. Technically they can be combed out, but that would take a very long time and very precise effort, and most people aren’t going through all that. They’re just going to cut them off and start fresh. If you have a character that would balk at such a choice, locs aren’t for them. If you have a character that’s picky and choosy, that likes versatility, that can’t make up their mind, do NOT give them locs unless they’re making the conscious choice to commit. (Again, this is subjective! Maybe they have locs because their mother died and it reminds them of her! Okay! That works!) If you have a character that’s vain, or at least doesn’t like looking awkward… unless they’re going to style up the awkward stage, they’re not going to want locs. (Awkward stage: the first two stages get considered awkward because the locs look messy. This is because they’re turning from curls to locs!)

Braids

Styles

How long braids can take depend on the style. Box braids can take 10-12 hours to do! Microbraids? You HAVE to have multiple people or you'll be there for damn near a day (and that's assuming you have a masterful braider!)

How long they last depend on your character! If they're like me as a kid, I didn't care how I looked, so my mom got me cheap braids and let me run free for two summer months. So if your Black character is a carefree child! Go for it. But if they're a teen or adult (or are very concerned about how they look) a month to six weeks is about how long braids can stay in before your new growth shows. A character that is usually trimmed and proper having loads of new growth over their braids may symbolize that they don’t have it all together anymore.

Pros: Protective style! Great way to let your character have minimal daily maintenance; oil and water and something to cover it. SOME braided styles allow for high activity and even rain without changing. It depends on the hair that’s been braided in, as well as the style. Incredibly versatile! They can have multi-colored braids, long braids, short braids, beads, trinkets… if your character is creative and bubbly and likes to experiment, the sky is the limit! That can symbolize their artistic expression, just by describing what they look like! So long as they have the time, they can have any look and style they want. No need to commit too long.

If your character is capable of doing their own braids (and locs, btw), they’re amazing. Like… that’s mad respect for them. If you describe your character being able to do their own braids, they’ve got amazing arm strength, patience, and skill. That skilled dexterity can be revealed as a trait of theirs through that alone.

Cons: They take a LONG TIME. Your character is not going anywhere. If they’re getting braids… they’re not going anywhere. If you write your character doing anything fancy the day of, depending on the type of braids, Black readers are not going to believe you. Even if it did get finished, it would be very tight. I currently have a poll going on, and so far, a good majority of the 10+ answers are braids! It cost MONEY. It is NOT CHEAP to get braids done! If your character is poor as a church mouse, they will be doing those braids with their friend in front of youtube. Because it can be in the hundreds of dollars. (Don’t get me started on hair culture right now; BACK IN MY DAY IT COST-)

Hairstyles on Black Men

I want to specifically give space and applause to these hairstyles on Black men, because we REALLY don’t give Black men enough credit for all the creativity they show with their hair! And again, with The Killmonger being the choice style in all these damn vidya games despite almost no Black man I know choosing it as a look… PLEASE LOOK! WE HAVE OPTIONS! Try describing how gorgeous these looks can be on your Black men characters! It would be very nice.

Straight Hair

Well, I was going to explain, but ol ‘Guest Writer’ here pretty much lays it all out! So just go ahead and read this article lol.

Just to re-emphasize, straight hair is NOT something that just grows out of our head that way! It takes effort! So if you have a character that doesn’t feel like maintaining straight hair, they shouldn’t have it! If your character has natural hair and lives in a rainy or humid city, they’re going to be fighting that weather to keep it straight- make sure that’s consistent with their personality!

My best friend used to wash and flatiron her hair every day. Like, laser focused on looking that good, Type A shit (she’s a top money banker now, so I guess it worked out). If you have a character like that, it’s fine! If they’re lazy any other time of the day, they’re not suddenly going to be waking up at 5am to flat iron their hair. It’s not consistent.

Conclusion

That’s pretty much what I have! I’m not the guru on all things Black hair, and I obviously cannot encompass every potential scenario you may have for your characters. Really, my intention here is to get you to think about how our hair reflects our character and personalities, and how when you write and/or draw a Black character, you have that ability! And when you’re able to incorporate that naturally, it makes your Black readers feel seen, like you actually cared about that character enough to give them just as much description as your nonblack characters. You don’t have to be a master at it! Just… occasionally the little things that we can go ‘oh, yeah!’ at would be nice. An equivalent effort would be nice.

Remember, it’s the thought that counts, but the action that delivers!

[holymusicalmothman]

I Can See You - Live Action!Sanji x Reader

Saw a post about wanting a fic with Sanji and this song that @its-a-show-stoppin-number posted and I knew I wasn't gonna get anything done until I wrote this. I've never written anything like this before to be honest. I kinda word vomited in a sense. The story just exited my fingers and here it is.

Warnings: Suggestive, kissing, secret relationship, nothing explicit, only implied, objectification of Taz Skylar's jawline, like. Why’s it so fine. Like. Dear lord.

No use of y/n, or those weird descriptor things, reader is gender neutral. Reader is however you imagine them

Word Count: 1.5K

Main Masterlist

It wasn’t something you had seen coming. It wasn’t like you, to be honest.

But he was just so damn charming. How were you supposed to resist?

Sanji hadn’t been part of the crew for long. A few weeks at most. But you had been watching him from the moment the crew walked into the Baratie. 

Tall. Strong. Nicely dressed. Polite. Respectful. Suave. Not to mention good looking. That jawline–in your defense, you HAD tried to ignore the blatant attraction.

Fleeting glances for almost a week, brushing past each other in the ship’s hallways. Fantasies filling your head. One specific dream of exchanging heated kisses in a dark corner had your mind racing whenever you were in the same room as the chef. 

It was impossible to function properly. 

Your job aboard the Going Merry was to document the events that occurred. Luffy thought it would be perfect to write down all of the adventures that would eventually lead to him becoming King of the Pirates.

And writing anything was impossible.

Blond hair and grey blue eyes kept your mind far too distracted.

So you decided to do something about it. 

Especially since you had caught his eyes on you repeatedly throughout dinner. 

So you took your time eating. A phrase which here means wasting your time until Luffy, Usopp, Zoro, and Nami had vacated the kitchen for the evening. Leaving you alone with Sanji.

As he stood to clear the dishes, your hand shot out, grabbing his sleeve and stopping him in his tracks.

You looked up into his eyes, your own wide with adrenaline. 

"Please tell me it's not all in my head." You said softly. "If it is, I promise, it'll be like this never happened."

"And if I say it's not all in your head?" He murmured the words, the tension so thick someone could have cut it with a knife. 

"Then I'd ask if you'd worry what the others thought. I'm not sure if relationships between crewmembers are allowed here. They weren't on my last crew. And I'm not too keen on asking Luffy if I'm entirely honest." You took a deep breath. "But I can't get you out of my head. It's like I'm addicted."

Sanji moved to rest his hands on either side of your chair, effectively caging you in. "So more like a secret mission. Just the two of us." He bit his lip and watched your eyes zero in on the action, a smirk spreading on his face instead.

You nodded, knowing you were in too deep to back out now.

Sanji continued, despite the fact that his eyes flicked down to your lips every few moments. "Everything professional, except when it's just the two of us."

You nodded again, your heart racing and palms sweating as the object of your desire leaned forward a little more, waiting for you to reach across that last gap separating the two of you.

Your eyes fluttered shut as that gap closed. 

As your lips careened into the chef's, he exhaled heavily through his nose, pulling you up to stand and then closer so you were pressed to his chest, your hands flying to tangle in his hair. 

The world around the two of you was a blur as you lost yourselves in each other. Clothes were shoved unceremoniously to the floor as you each tried to pull the other closer. You barely registered Sanji lifting you to sit on the kitchen counter, much less registering when the two of you had even moved from the table to the counter.

"You sure you want me sitting here?" You asked breathlessly, your newfound lover placing kisses down the length of your throat.

His laugh was husky against your throat. "It's a kitchen, darling. All the best meals happen in a kitchen."

That moment was the first of many. You had never regretted sharing a room with Nami more. While there were many kitchen escapades after that first one, the two of you still found a little thrill in having your secret. 

You spent time talking as well. You learned about each other. Likes and dislikes, pasts, dreams of the future. Sanji told you about his childhood with Zeff and his quest for the All Blue. You told him of your dream to be a famous poet one day and of your life on the sea. 

Something changed along those talking sessions. Something you liked. You wouldn’t call it a friends with benefits situation. You both knew it was something else, something deeper. 

Those words were just waiting to be said.

You two would lock eyes at random moments throughout the days and his eyebrow would quirk and you'd look away.

Nights would be spent with each other, sometimes words weren’t even exchanged. 

It was bliss.

One afternoon caught the two of you on the lower decks, encased by shadows. You had originally been working on writing down events in the logbook, but your lover had sought you out. 

Sanji had you caged up against the wall, kissing you with a fervor. As if you were the last meal he'd ever receive. 

He always kissed you like a starving man. 

However, you heard Usopp's voice getting closer to your hiding spot, calling for Sanji, and the two of you quickly separated and righted yourselves. 

He winked at you as you adjusted your skewed shirt. "You'll tell me more about how that dream of yours went later, right, darling?"

You smirked. "You wouldn't believe half the things I see inside my head." 

Sanji grinned, unable to resist capturing your lips in another kiss before slowly pulling away and heading down the hallway.

Nami cornered you later that day. 

"You've been hard to find lately." She stated. 

You shrugged. "I've been hiding away trying to find a quiet place to work on the log." This was the go to excuse. 

And Nami wasn't buying it. "It's been hard to find Sanji too."

Your eyes met her brown ones in questioning silence.

"I knew it." She muttered. "Sanji left his jacket on the floor in the hallway the other night. You do know we're not like other pirates, right? Nobody's gonna care if you two get together. 'Sides, pretty sure the only ones who haven't figured it out are Luffy and Usopp. But that's just a matter of time."

You were flabbergasted. "How in the--"

"You guys aren't very sneaky. Zorro found you two the other day. Plus the jacket."

Of course Zorro would find out first. But knowing that a relationship would be fine was also a relief to hear. 

You had just finished telling Nami about your's and the chef's so-called "secret mission" when Sanji brought lunch around a few minutes later. When he got to you, he handed you your food and your logbook. "You left this in the kitchen." And with a wink he walked away. 

"He's not even subtle about it." Nami stated.

You laughed. Sanji hadn't been subtle from the moment you met him at the Baratie. He had only stopped calling you 'madame' because you told him it made you feel old. 

He had immediately switched to darling, being far too suave and charming for his own good. 

You opened up your logbook. It had gotten easier to get back to your job lately. Apparently the dark hallway meetings and late night rendezvous worked perfectly in helping your focus.

You immediately noticed his note. 

"Meet me tonight"

You snapped the notebook shut, grinning like a schoolgirl,and Nami only rolled her eyes and shook her head. "You two are the weirdest." 

It was late when you began to make your way to the kitchen that night.

He must have been impatient, because you found him waiting down the hallway, still dressed in his suit and necktie. 

You never knew blue could feel like fire, but his eyes were smoldering as they met yours. He had you up against the wall in moments, his lips on your own.

He never did anything halfway, it was all or nothing. That thought crossed your mind as you began to lose yourself in the way he kissed you. In the way it was tender and yet passionate. In the way he caught your lip with his own. In the way he would sort of nudge his jaw forward in little movements. In the way his tongue always seemed to ask permission by gently touching your own lips and leading you into deeper and deeper kisses. 

You could drown in this man. 

The words slipped out in between kisses before you could stop them. 

"I love you."

But he just grinned. A smile so bright, were the sun out it would have felt threatened. Remarkably sweet for the heated exchange that had been occuring only seconds prior.

"I love you, too, darling."

And the heat was back. His hands, which had been holding you gently at your hips, slipped to lift you and press you harder into the wall as the passion returned. 

Only to come to a screeching halt as someone cleared their throat. 

Luffy stood a few feet away, struggling to mask his shock.

"While I'm happy for the two of you, maybe the hallways are not the best for such...activities?" he said.

You both nodded, mildly embarrassed to have been caught. 

As your captain disappeared further down the hallway, a laugh bubbled out of you.

Sanji turned to look at you, bewildered. 

Grabbing his hand, you led him away. "You heard our captain, gotta go somewhere other than a hallway."

Understanding spread across his face in the way of a knowing smirk. "I completely understand, darling."

I can see you, waiting down the hall for me, I can see you, up against the wall with me.

I can see you, throw your jacket on the floor, I can see you, make me want you even more

[cherrymoon4]

hello ^^ ( thank you sososo much for the love on the other posts! send me requests if you want :P )

hiya!! <3333

honestly don't want to pressure you by requesting xxx

buttttt i love, love, love the way you write suguru xxx

so i'd be happy with anything with him <33333

whether it be a continuation of a similar dynamic with the curses aftertaste fic or something else entirely...

Roommate!Suguru would be so possessive and yummy.

Initially, when you first moved in the apartment, he didn't really care much about you. He knew you had a pretty face and were kinda shy, but that's all.

But as time went on and you opened yourself up to him, he began to get quite obsessed with you. He would be all over you as soon as he stepped foot in your apartment; and you would let him, after all he was just being friendly! right?

It didn't matter that anytime he would hug you from behind you would feel something hard pressing against the small of your back. It was probably just his phone in his pocket!

And you're sure that it's your mind doing tricks on you whenever you hear the bathroom door open while you take a shower. He would never ever spy on you, you were sure.

So when you come home from a terrible date, the first thing you do is rush over to him, your pretty eyes filled with tears, and throw yourself in his arms.

He was quite pissed off from the moment you told him you were going on a date. I mean, you have a perfectly good man at home! Why would you even consider seeing someone else?

Suguru always took good care of you. He always pampered and spoiled you, and every time you would think that he was just being generous.

I mean, he had a big reputation as a respectful and kind guy, especially among girls; his giving personality was what attracted them, his deep, soothing voice and his looks were a plus.

So obviously you thought he was just being his kind self when he took your teary eyed face in his hands and wrapped you up in his arms, engulfing your entire body as if protecting you.

But you couldn't deny the warmth in your belly as he whispered in your ear and rubbed your back, listening intently while you vented about how horrible your date was.

And the whole time he was just subtly smiling to himself, knowing that you would always come back to him; that even if you convinced yourself that you were just friends, deep down you knew that you were meant for him.

"It's not your fault, darling. He wouldn't be able to take care of you properly anyway, not like I do. But you know that, don't you baby? You know no one can compare to me, right?" he mumbled condescendingly, taking your puffy cheeks in his hands and tilting your head upwards to look at him in the eye.

God, you were so fucking precious. Especially like this, all pouty and teary-eyed, soft and pliant in his hands.

"Told you that you should've stayed home with your Sugu, but you just had to be a little brat and not listen to me, mh?"

And you know that if you had listened to him you wouldn't be in this position, you know that he's right.

So when his hands start to wander all over your body while he says that he "just wants to make ya feel better", you just nod and let him.

You don't know what you did to deserve him!

He's too kind, you think as his hands rub your waist and wander lower.

You think he's such a good friend when he pulls your panties down, his fingers rubbing your little clit to "make the sad go away".

And when your legs are over his shoulders, his cock nestled deep inside you and your tummy bulging, you think he's the best friend ever!

He smirks down at you, and he knows he's got you hooked when he sees your eyes crossing and your legs shaking.

"Look at you, already dumb on my cock. You love it, don't you baby? Yeah you do, f-fuck.." he plunges so hard in your little hole, biting his lip to stifle the moans coming out of his mouth.

He knows this is where you belong: your body pressed into the mattress, your pretty pussy stretching around his fat shaft, your wetness creating a pretty ring of cream coating the base of his cock, your pink nails (that he paid for) drawing red stripes across his back;

and maybe then he realizes that he's the one wrapped around your finger, when he fills your little cunt up to the brim with his hot cum, and a small part of him wishes that it takes. maybe then you would only think about him, you'll realize that he's all you truly need, and you for him <3

hiiii! thank u so much for the request (sorry for answering late) i don’t really love this but wtv! hope u do😚

[cdragons]

Warmth & Stories - Aemond Targaryen x Wildling!Reader

Next Part

Summary: Love can bloom in the most unusual ways. The love between a stoic prince from the South and a wildling storyteller will be written in history as one of the strangest but truest of loves.

Author's Notes: To my very lovely and wonderful friend and beta reader Bel, aka @valeskafics, I hope you had a wonderful Christmas and New Year's! This is the first part of this fic gift I wanted to give you, and I promise the next part will have smut! I hope you like this fic and can feel my love and appreciation for you. Bel, you are one of my favorite writers of all time and a huge reason I began posting fanfics and writing in the first place. I am so grateful that you opened a whole new world for me, and I hope this year gives you lots of happiness.

Warning(s): Slight cursing, Reader's parents were killed, Daemon's an ass, Viserys is a negligent father, Westeros is Westeros, dysfunctional family shenanigans

Prince Aemond Targaryen was known to be many things. Proud. Serious. Studious. All things one should be proud of in a young man’s position. Every single one of his teachers and wet nurses sung praises of the young prince since he began to toddle. And although it might seem cruel to admit it, the second prince was the apple of the Queen’s eye and the clear favorite of her four children.

Her sweet Aemond was a mild, studious young boy who practiced his faith in the Seven despite his blood lineage belonging to the Old Gods of Valryia. Besides Aegon, he had always been respectful to his siblings–especially to his elder sister, Helaena. Aemond would often humor his sister’s strange ramblings and gift her with little creatures he found as he wandered the ancient walls of the Red Keep. Helanea, despite all her reclusiveness, only seemed comfortable enough to be touched with her younger brother and often offered comfort whenever he complained about how unfair it was that he still had no dragon. His sister was as fond of her younger brother as he was of her and would usually humor his requests.

Except now.

“Please?” Aemond had been pleading for over an hour, reaching a point where most would pity him.

“No,” replied his sister sternly, “I’ve already told you my answer won’t change.”

“But why?” he pathetically asked as his voice cracked. It was good that Aegon was still in his room, too drunk to start the day. Aemond would never have lived it down without allowing his brother to see him like this. “I won’t ask for anything else from you, I swear it.”

“No, absolutely not.”

“But why?” demanded Aemond. “I would never harm (Y/N). Name one person in the Seven Kingdoms who would treat her better than I?”

Too upset by his sister’s refusal, the prince stormed out of the room in a near-blind rage.

(Y/N) (Y/L/N) was no noblewoman or someone with any particularly wealthy connections or background. You weren’t even someone born within the Walls in the North.

No, you were from a tribe of wildings that hailed outside the Wall and were brought within the borders after your parents were caught stealing. The Starks decided to spare when they realized their daughter was just a tiny child with an incredible talent for storytelling. Within a year, the tales that Y/N wove with her tongue had reached the ears of Aemond’s father, King Viserys of House Targaryen. The King was fascinated by the young girl beyond the Wall, who spun tales of giants and spirits from the Land of Always Winter. He spared no expense in bringing you to King’s Landing.

Aemond could remember the day so clearly, as you arrived very shortly after his bastard nephew took his eye in Driftmark, and his father did nothing but protect his whore of a half-sister. When brought into the keep, you could hardly present yourself to a room full of nobles, let alone the King. You stood before his father and family barefoot and filthy. Your clothes looked closer to rags and torn cloth, and your (h/c) mane was wild with a few braids and feathers. But that hardly mattered. As soon as you opened your mouth, it was as if everyone in the Great Hall had been transported to another world.

The story you told started with a young princess given a toy soldier named the “Nussknacker.” The young princess loved her little toy soldier so much that her sweet Nussknacker came to life one night. He told the princess a prince to a winter wonderland full of fairies, sugar plums, and magic. His home had been overtaken by a maniacal Rattenkönig, and he turned the prince into his current form. The soldier and princess had to face many trials, but they were successful in defeating the evil Rattenkönig and saving the prince’s kingdom. The Nussknacker turned back into the handsome prince he had always been, and he and the princess married to lead his kingdom into prosperity.

By the time you finished telling your story, the Royal court went ablaze with applause. Your pretty words and skillful tongue enraptured every noble. They longed to hear more of your stories and were starved for entertainment. His father was in an especially jolly mood after hearing your tale. He immediately appointed you as the troubadour of the Royal Court held in protection under the Royal Targaryen House. A proclamation that horrified both the king’s Hand and the Queen, to say the least. It was no secret that Aemond’s mother and grandfather did not look favorably on you. More than once, he heard his mother seethe in anger at the attention her husband gave to you as you sat beside him during his father’s pain flares. In her eyes, you were a savage hellion who likely spread her legs up from the Wall in the North to the Great Hall of the Red Keep in the South.

But in Aemond’s eyes, you were an angel. It was not only his father’s pain you soothed with your stories, but also his own. He tried his best to keep his distance from you, but it wasn’t long until you gained his sister’s favor. From then on, whenever he spotted Helaena, you were by her side. The tall and icy walls he tried to maintain around you came crashing down before he knew it. His mother so loved him because he always did as she instructed, including to remain far away from the new child from beyond the North.

But one night, the scar on his eye had been so painful that he gained a fever that lasted for nearly a week. The maesters weren’t sure if he would survive the sickness, as it was a result of his lost eye being inflamed. His mother had resigned herself to crying by his bedside while his sister would sit with him and talk about her day. But one night, when he was delirious with pain, you somehow managed to sneak in from one of the secret tunnels within the keep’s walls. He couldn’t see you, but he recognized your voice. He wanted to scream for you to leave his room, threatening that he would call over the guards standing outside. But then you spoke, and it seemed as if his world of pain had just washed away. You spoke to him about the history of Old Valyria and the beautiful tales of dragons and knights that were lost in time. This continued on every night during his ailment.

“Do you miss your parents?” Aemond asked you one night. But he immediately regretted his question when he saw how your shoulders tensed.

“Sometimes,” you replied after a few moments of silence, “I understand that they are in a better place, wherever they are. But sometimes I wish they were here so I wouldn’t be alone.”

“But you have Helaena to be with you. Even my father adores your company.”

You only scoffed in response.

“Helaena is wonderful,” you bitterly continued, “I am glad to have a friend as sweet and kind as her in this poisonous hellhole you call home. But your father-” you paused a moment to lick your lips to figure out how to phrase your thoughts – “all he sees me as is a toy. A commodity. A funny little object that he bought to entertain him. He never mistreated me but does not respect me as a person, let alone as a subject.”

The tears in your eyes welled to the point where they almost spilled, and you immediately stopped talking to prevent further incriminating yourself.

“You have no idea what it’s like-” you let out a bitter laugh before continuing to cry – “to have your family taken away from you. To watch your parents be executed before your eyes when you were only a small child. And for what? Stealing a loaf of stale bread? What should that matter to the Starks? They have their pretty castle with warm fires and fur blankets. My mother and father worked for everything they had in order to care for me. Now here I am, away from the silver winter I called home and stuck in the shit-odor that covers precious South.”

“However much you hate your family, at least you still have them. I have no one. No one to share my culture and past with, no one to understand your customs and way of life. Call my parents whatever you want. Savages. Thieves. Scum. But they loved me. However little it was, they taught me to be proud of myself. They were my whole life, and now they’re gone.”

You ran out of his chambers and back into the wall. Aemond didn’t see you for several days, even after his fever broke and the maesters told his mother he would live. Two weeks passed, and Aemond felt as if he were going mad. When he finally spotted you in one of the more secluded areas of the library, he grabbed your arm before you could scurry off.

“Tell me,” he told you. “Tell me everything about your parents, your home. Tell me about how the air was clean and clear. Tell me about how everywhere you looked, you saw white snow and clear ice. Tell me how much you loved your family, pets, friends – if you had any. I don’t care what it is. Tell me everything.”

At first, you only stared. He couldn’t tell if you were furious or in shock. But soon, your eyes lit up as if you had been given five hundred gold dragons.

“Where do you want me to start?” you asked him, eyes wide with joy and a heart finally learning to trust.

Lo and behold, he found his heart beginning to feel the same.

“Wherever you want.”

The smile you gave him was worth more than all the money locked within the Royal Treasury.

So many nights since that day, you would sit by his bedside, speaking so prettily that even the most brutal of their acts and customs fascinated Aemond. You would burn the midnight oil, telling him about the adventures and raids of the Free People beyond the Wall. That’s how you referred to yourself as a “free woman.” While you despised the title “savage,” you did not mind being labeled as “wilding.” You claimed that since you were born outside the Wall, the laws of Westeros did not apply to you. You have been seen as wild, but you knew in your heart that you were born free. And what was more impressive to Aemond was how you honestly and sincerely believed that you were born as a free woman.

He saw it in the way you would make little shadow puppets shows to bring a smile from Daeron after it was announced that he would leave for Oldtown.

He heard it in how you got the cooks to spit on your name after stealing bread from kitchens and then giving it to the small folk children living in impoverished areas of Flea Bottom.

He smelt it in how your hair would always smell like the wind in the Godswood to ride his horse when you were supposed to be learning your letters with the Head Septa.

He tasted it when you let him take a sip of that rotten ale you made in secret when you went through one of your horrible bouts of homesickness.

He felt it in how you raced to his chambers to hug him after he woke up from another nightmare of the memory of that night when he lost his right eye.

You were the strangest mystery Aemond had ever and will ever know. No matter how long he spent searching for answers in his favorite corner of the library, Aemond could never understand how someone with a heart as warm as (Y/N) could come from the frozen wasteland she loved to call home.

With a single but powerful stroke of his blade, Lord Vaemond Velaryon’s upper jaw fell as the rest of his body dropped to the floor. Visenya’s Dark Sister had once more bathed in its victim’s blood. Gasps and shrieks filled the Great Hall at the sight of dark blood oozing from his corpse. The members of the Royal members all had varying reactions. From his mother’s side, Helaena immediately covered her eyes and turned away – utterly horrified by the swift mutilation. Aegon grimaced but was otherwise unaffected. Not surprising. He’d seen similar carnage from the illegal fight rings run in Flea Bottom. Aemond took a slight step back in shock as he gaped at the now-deceased lord in mild admiration.

He had no idea tongues were so long.

Prince Daemon Targaryen stood before his ailing brother, tall and proud. There was not a twinge of remorse or regret on his youthful visage as he towered over the spilled blood soaking his boots. Undoubtedly, this man carried the blood and fire of the proud dragons that graced their house.

“He can keep his tongue.”

Brutish as Daemon was known to be, Aemond respected his uncle’s instinct to remove objects that voiced slander against his wife. However much of a whore his half-sister may be, she was still of royal blood and their father’s firstborn.

However, he wasn’t sure how much that last fact mattered, considering how she spread her legs to swill only to produce bastards as her heirs.

His grandfather ordered the Kingsguards to disarm his uncle, but Daemon only scoffed as he wiped the blood off his ancient blade with an old rag. Moments later, Aemond’s decaying father collapsed on the Iron Throne in exhaustion after over-exerting himself. His mother immediately rushed over to aid him when she heard his pained groans.

“Call the Maesters!” she shouted before reaching him. And when his father fell into her arms, that was the first time Aemond saw you throughout this entire proceeding.

You stood close to the walls, remaining present but unseen. It was not until his father called for you by his side that he removed you from your hiding place. You and an apprentice Maester took Viserys to his chambers, leaving behind his wife, children, grandchildren, and every member of the Royal Court. As Aemond watched you carry his hobbling sire to his chambers – likely to recite to him a passage of the History of Old Valyria or one of the many tales surrounding Queen Visenya’s practice of the dark arts – his blood froze as he noticed Daemon’s gaze was focused not on his brother, but on you.

An hour had passed since Lord Vaemond Velaryon’s unfortunate passing, and Aemond was still no closer to finding you. He felt as if he was going mad in desperation. He checked everywhere. The kitchens, catching you sneak bites of freshly baked honey cakes. The stables, to find you feeding the mares and stallions carrots and apples. Your chambers, spying through the keyhole as you sat at your desk writing new stories. He even went so far as to ride to the dragonpit, hoping that you were reading to Vhagar again. He was close to announcing an order to search for you to the closest Kingsguard when he spotted you standing underneath the Heartstree. When another figure approached you, the one-eyed prince was about to call out your name.

Daemon. And judging by the way his violet eyes leered at your womanly form, it was clear to Aemond that this meeting was no coincidence. Aemond stepped out of view and pressed himself close to the garden’s entrance. The silver-tressed prince cursed himself for not publicly claiming you so everyone knew you were his and his alone. Differences in stations mattered little when you grew up so beautifully.

A fact he was sure that did not go unnoticed by his uncle despite meeting you for the first time.

Not for the first time did Aemond find himself cursing the gods for creating perfection in a single woman. Time had been unkind to many but seemed to spare you of any misfortune. While you were far from the polished and perfect image of a proper lady, you slowly but surely assimilated yourself to life in the South of the Wall. You traded your hides and furs for dresses and trousers. Your wild (h/c) mane became untangled by his sister’s ladies-in-waiting frequent brushings. Regular meals and proper care took a starving child with sharp, bony jabs to a woman with soft, feminine curves and beauty rivaling the Maiden herself.

“How have you found your time so far from the wall, little wilding?”

“I spent every waking second soaked and flushed from sweat and heat. To make it worse, I can’t escape the shit and piss that stains and bathes your pretty keep. Tell me, does that answer your question, my prince?”

Daemon barked a short laugh, amused that his brother took in someone so clearly different from the court’s usual vultures.

“When I heard my brother had taken in a little girl from outside the wall as his little entertainer, I was expecting a hobbled cripple caked in dirt with no sign of grooming. But here you stand, appearing more like a proper lady than a savage wildling.”

“You can take the girl from the North, but you can never take the North from the girl.”

No truer words had ever been spoken.

Aemond smiled at your quick wit and tongue. You were still every bit of the girl dragged before his father when he was only ten name-days old, even if you changed a little bit.

You still styled your hair with the little braids commonly worn in the North, but sometimes, he would catch Helaena tucking feathers in your locks.

You still carried your father’s old hunting knife on your person, but you also kept the Valyrian steel dagger Aemond gave you on Yuletide Eve from three years past.

You still made frequent trips to pass the bread to the small folk in Flea Bottom; you always made sure to help lead Aegon back to his bed after he drank himself stupidly.

It was a challenge, but you’ve adapted and made a life here with the Royal Family, whether you liked it or not.

“Do you ever plan on coming out from behind the wall, my prince? Or do you plan on renouncing your title and becoming Master of Whispers on your father’s small council?”

Realizing that his cover has been blown, Aemond brought himself in view to face the wildling girl who had stolen his heart almost eight years ago. He was relieved that his uncle had left the gardens, probably to inseminate his half-sister once more. It was as if she needed more children to convince all of King’s Landing that her claim on his brother’s throne was legitimate and valid. It did not matter that the evidence of her whorish nature was growing before their eyes.

“Careful, my lady,” replied Aemond, “one might think your words as treason towards the prince.”

“Please,” you scoffed, “the only people who continue to insist on taming my tongue are your mother and grandfather. And we both know my opinions of both parties.” Your cheeks began to flush, and your demeanor grew shy as you whispered your following words. “Besides, why would I need to be afraid of anything when I have you?”

Oh, how his cold, bitter heart grew ten times warmer with your sweet words. He removed his black riding gloves, reached for your hands, and was taken aback by how cold your skin felt against his own.

As if afraid of his voice, he cradled your hands softly as if he were the hunter and you were a little snow rabbit on the edge of running away. Your unblinking observation persisted as you silently watched your silver-haired prince raised both of your hands to his pink lips. He took in a deep breath before exhaling out. The heat of his breath against your fingers sent chills down your back. His mouth was opened just enough for you to see his tongue, bringing a deep sense of shame to wash over you as you dreamed of how good it would feel to have his tongue feast on your cunt.

“What possessed you to come outside without a cloak?” The low timbres of his voice broke you from your lust as you just now realized that you brought yourself into his trap. “It is already winter (Y/n). You could grow sick if you are not careful.”

“You forget yourself, Aemond,” you replied, tearing your hands from his grip. You almost wept at how profoundly you felt the loss of his warmth. When did his hands become so rough and big? “I have the true North in my veins. Such meek and pitiful clouds and winds could never get me ill.”

“Why were you outside at all?” Aemond had hoped to find you in one of the rooms with a fire roaring inside. Even if you were not alone, you would have been warm.

“Thinking about home, I suppose. I was tiny, but I would help gather whatever wood was available and put it in a big pile. We would put on our ceremonial furs and robes, along with masks we painted from the skulls of our kills. After that, the adults would drink themselves stupid on ale and heated yak’s milk as they and the children would gather around the wood pile and then burn it. I remember dancing with my parents around the fire as we sang praises for the old gods and yelled out prayers for the sun. A few boys would probably try to sneak some kisses from the girls with mistletoe.”

The silence that followed only added to the tension.

“I think I would have been stolen by now.”

“Stolen?”

“Your Southerners version of ‘marriage,’ I suppose,” you stated as you lightly shrugged, “at my age, if you weren’t stolen, it meant that something was wrong with you. If I remained with my tribe, some man would have stolen me by now and pumped me full of his babies.”

Aemond saw red. He clenched his fists so hard that his knuckles further paled to an almost translucent view of his veins as he imagined some savage, wildling man forcing himself on you. He wanted to ride Vhaghar beyond the North, if only reaching beyond the Wall and burning it all to the ground. No man other than him was allowed to touch you. He had only touched your hand and already decided that the rest of you belonged to him and him alone.

Taking a few steps closer to you, he removed his leather patch and lifted your chin between his fingers to force your focus on him. His ears caught a slight intake of breath when you saw his sapphire eye as he was so close that he could practically feel your heart racing in anticipation. He preened in satisfaction when he caught your perfect (e/c) irises dart down to his lips before resting his face again. Aemond didn’t need to look down to know that you were clenching your thighs in an attempt to stop your arousal from leaking.

His sister’s approval be damned.

If your traditions dictated that you must be ‘stolen’ to be a wife, then he would be the one to steal you.

“Sweet (Y/n), you’ve grown so cold.”

Do you wish to go back?

His face was so close to yours that you could feel breaths mix with your own. You could smell the fine leather of his tunic, and the fragrance of spices from his silvery locks wrapped you in a blanket of comfort. His violet eye’s gaze showed a vulnerability lost since that night in Driftmark. The night when he gained a dragon at the cost of becoming a cripple. If Aemond was to risk everything he’s worked for, he had to know.

Would you, a Free Woman, let yourself be called as his?

“No, my Aemond” - you took his hands in yours to tenderly kiss his knuckles- “not anymore.”

I am right where I belong.

And he believed you.

Tagging: @valeskafics, @dreaming-for-an-escape, @arcielee, @asa-do-your-thing, @lady-ashfade , @faesspace, @its-actually-minicika, @aphroditesmoon, @bellamys-girl1, @immyowndefender, @xxlovingfandomsxx, @elinedjarin, @meg-egg-blog, @marvelescape, @mandiiblanche, @lokiofasgard12, @boxedpandas, @anewpersonthatexists, @toodlesxcuddles, @leavemeoutofitlay

[ravisinghs-wife]

Hii!

Could you please do Aaron Warner x reader dating post? cause I live for that man.



Aaron warner x gn!reader

warnings: ooc!Aaron (?), I changed the timeline and a tiny bit of the plot from unravel me, my poor attempt at writing anything besides headcanon, cringe writing, mention of being drugged, being shot, curse words

word count: 1.6k +

notes to the reader: reader's gift is to make people believe and do everything they say. reader has been at omega point since their childhood and is best friends with kenji. reader wears a dress

other notes to the fic: Juliette and Aaron are just friends (well still kind of enemies, but Aaron's main focus from bringing her to the reestablishment was to help his mom, instead of rescuing her bc he was in love with her), a/n: I am SO sorry that this took so long, I'm currently trying to work on my request before I open them again but I just don't have that much motivation to write rn😭, I hope you still like it:)), my first language isn't English so please respect that, I tried to write something different from what I normally do...

Masterlist

you two met when he was taken by omega point

after he was allowed outside of his room, and castle made sure that Aaron wouldn't destroy any more furniture, he kept seeing you on his daily walks with castle and began asking questions about you

"what's their name" Aaron looked focused, directing his question to the person joining him on his walk. Castle waited a few seconds before answering Aaron's question: "y/n, their gift is to make people believe and do everything they say" Aaron gave you another intense look before turning his attention to castle again and nodding, to signalize that he understood him.

after that he kept noticing you and eventually agreed to eat dinner with the others, just so he could sit at the same table as you and listen to your conversations with Kenji

you had been friends with Kenji for as long as you could remember, so you always sat at the same table, different friends of yours joining you both, be it Ian, Brendan, lily or the brand new members Adam, James or Juliette, with whom Kenji was especially close

but when the new omega point member, the infamous Aaron Warner joins you both you of course notice him

you also didn't miss the glances he kept sending you

so when castle, who also didn't miss the glances, asked you to train him you rushed to say yes because you just couldn't believe that a person could be so pure evil like Adam pointed him out to be

yes, he let someone tortured your best friend (which you still were pretty pissed about) but you believed that there could be something nice in him and assumed that he was under much stress due to his father, who you haven't heard a single nice thing about

his first training session was on an Tuesday afternoon, to which he arrived exactly on time and in perfect clothing, as if he somehow found a way to iron it

you started with some simple tasks to try to find out what exactly his power is and why he is immune to Juliettes touch

around three sessions later you come to then training session in your prettiest dress that you normally safe for special occasions

aaron, he demanded that you call him by his first name, immediately had one of his rare smiles spread out on his face when he saw you in that dress

he kept asking you to do a twirl so he could see the whole dress but you refused at first

it wasn't until he came closer to you, held your hands carefully in his and asked like a little puppy "please to a twirl for me, my beloved" that you made one with a shocked face

when he saw your expression he rushed to stop you and asked panicked if everything was alright

you told him that he just practiced your gift and couldn't do anything but do a twirl

after that both of you quickly figured out that his gift was to practice other peoples powers and copy them

the night after you are me in his room, trying to work on his powers

you do that until you notice him staring at you

"what's wrong Aaron?" you ask, looking concernt at the boy. you notice that he isn't smiling or grinning a bit like he normally does when you say his name. "my beloved, I- I'll have to leave in the morning. My father can't suspect that I'm here or where exactly omega point is, he'll know soon if i stay longer. I can't put you at this risk." You were shocked to say the least. "Aaron you can't- how would you even do that? Do you even know the way out?" "I wasn't really unconscious when I was brought here, you know? And I found a way to navigate myself around here in the last two months." He looks at your shocked face before adding: "But don't worry, I won't tell my dad or someone else about anything here. I'll hope that you'll miss me the same amount that I will miss you. I hope we will see each other soon again"

He doesn't let you protest any further, gives your hand a gentleman-like kiss and leaves

you had absolutely no idea where he went to, it was his room that you spent your time just mere minutes ago in, after all

still in shock you don't even think about following him, the only thought in your head being that he would be gone tomorrow and will probably spent his time with his pathetic excuse of an father

You don't even think about telling castle or someone else at omega point about Aaron leaving, and at the morning of the very next day you find out that he succeeded

days pass until each member from the rescuing mission of Brendan and Winston, who where both kidnapped my Aaron's psycho dad, Anderson, were ready and prepared to start the mission

the mission seemed to go well until you saw the bombs falling from the sky directly on the place where omega point was located

you were in shock and didn't notice the arms grabbing you and dragging you into a tank

you'd been handcuffed and your eyes were covered with a cloth

there was a voice saying something but you didn't catch was it was saying

someone forced a liquid down your throat and you soon passed out after that

the first thing that you noticed was the warm light

you sat in a kitchen chair but soon noticed that a person, who you assumed to be Anderson, Aaron's dad, because of the obvious resembles, joined you

shit

you didn't catch everything he was saying because you were still feeling dizzy from the drug you were forced to consume, something about revenge, the stupidness of his son (who apparently had joined you two), leading and shooting someone

you soon found out that with someone they meant you, when you were shot in the chest

right into your heart

being shot and drugged at the same day wasn't a nice feeling

you were bleeding and if it didn't stop soon you'd be dead in a few minutes

and if that would happen you couldn't exactly tell because you passed out

for the second time today

it was a shock, to say nicely, when you woke up next to Aaron

he immediately asked you if you were okay but you just stared at him

"I- What the fuck happened?" "my father he- he wanted to 'teach me a lesson'. I'm sorry, my beloved. If I never would've asked him to spare your life he wouldn't have tried to kill you or make me try to kill you." he rambled, trying to explain the earlier actions. But one question was still lingering in your head: "why exactly would you have asked him to spare my life?" He could've carered so much more about someone else's life than yours. Juliettes or maybe James. Besides his constant dining you were sure that he cared at least a bit for them. "Because I care for you, my beloved." You don't know what to say after this confession and just look at him and take his hand into yours.

that's how you met&lt;33 sorry, I got carried away

anyway

that man SPOILS you

you see a pretty flower at the market? It's yours. There is a new collectors edition of your favorite book, but it's out of your price range right now? It's on your desk the next day. The limited edition vinyl that just restocked? already ordered, you get the deal

despite everything he says he actually loves dogs and you'll get one when everything with the reestablishment is over

he'll always pick out fancy colars for the dog and style it<3

he definitely has a fashion blog and posts his daily outfits on there

he'll also pick out your outfit everyday and he always tries for you two to match

every time you go shopping with Juliette and/or Kenji he insists on tagging along so you don't chose some ridiculous clothing items that would wash you out or something

he's obsessed with coffee after delalieu introduced him to it

and when you already like coffee you two have this ritual that every Sunday you guys drink a cup coffee on your balcony and just enjoy the early morning

but if you don't like coffee he always tries to get you into it and 'accidentally' places an extra cup on the breakfast table

"i promise my beloved, it's really good you just have to try it for once"

his love languages are words of affirmations and physical touch

he can't go longer than five minutes without touching you

he always has his hand rested on your lower back or holds your hand because your touch comforts and relaxes him<33

also loves to hold your pinkies

he may not look like it but he LOVES cuddling

you can't sleep anymore without you normally grumpy boyfriend squeezing you like his life depended on it

he also loves to rest his head on your belly before sleeping, while you both read something

he's so mesmerized by your presence

he tells you at least ten times a day how gorgeous, smart or lovely you are

you could literally just walk to the kitchen to get a snack and he'd drop everything to tell you how much he loves you

at the beginning of your relationship he was way more open than you expected with his feelings and already told you one month in the relationship that he loved you

I don't know why but I think he'd write you poems frequently

[writingintheshadowsforever]

Imagine being Namor's Wife and and stopping him from killing Queen Ramonda

Side Note: After Black Panther Wakanda Forever first came out someone posted. This fic idea saying someone should write it I was kind of inspired by never got around to it. Well here it is and to the original person who came up with it. I hope you enjoy.

Italics is english translation.

No one had seen where you come from. One minute it was the thick glass window between Namor and Queen Ramonda with the two locked into an intense staring contest.

Namor eyes filled with anger as his gaze turned to the young girl.

Queen Ramonda refused to back down reaching out a hand to move Riri behind her. Hiding the young girl from his prying eyes.

The action just fuel his burning desire for revenge and war even more. Namor let out a raging cry bringing his spare up, and Queen Ramonda stood her ground watching him preparing to stab through the window. She was confident the glass would hold and even if it didn't. The King of Talokan would still have to strike her down first before she let him touch the girl.

The spear was getting closer and closer to her face and then Namor paused his attack. The tip of his weapon resting inches from your nose as you stood before him arms crossed with a raised eyebrow.

"In yukanj" He whispered in surprise his eyes softening at your sudden appearance.

"Yes my love its me your lovely wife who entrusted you with one simple task. One that you promised me you could handle alone while I went off to lead the Americans astray to buy us more time." You scolded him shaking your head in disappointment. You wanted to be surprised by your husband's actions, but unfortunately you couldn't be. His hatred for mankind and the surface world had always been insatiable. It was your patience, his love and respect for you that kept those intrusive thoughts of invading world on land at bay.

You always hoped overtime maybe Namor would gain a new perspective on humans. But you should've known it was never going to happen especially with. The lack of sympathy after the events of Thanos invading Earth. Talokan had been affected by the snap as well, and you wanted to join the fight. Namor insisted that both of you stay out of it as it was a surface world problem. You should've seen all this coming your heart clenched at the sight of. All the destruction your husband and the Talokan's army had brought upon Wakanda.

It wasn't right. Countless lives lost for no reason. The murderous look you sent towards Namora and Attuma had both Generals cowering in fear. They called off the rest of the army and disappeared in the depths of the ocean without a word. You were going to deal with them later.

"Invadieron k otoch in yaakunaj kíins juntúul u le nuestros." He explained lowering his spear back to his side. They invaded our home my love killed one of our own.

Ti' ka' ta wuk'aj u princesa. Le k'áate' paal le Reina yéetel le ts'o'ok u internet ichil k'i'ik'el." You argued back pointing a finger over your shoulder at the woman behind you. After you took their Princess. The Queen's only child and the last of her bloodline.

Namor frowned. "Bix a wojel tales ba'alo'ob?" How do you know such things?

"Querías u Wakanda ka Talokan u convirtieran ti' aliados ti', máasima'. Tin tukultaj u sería útil mantener k'iin yéetel." You wanted Wakanda and Talokan to become allies right. I thought it would be helpful to stay up to date on information.

Namor scoffed earning a raised eyebrow at you. He hovered around you to land on the platform as well. "Wa k meentik u sometan ta To'one', Talokan yaan u sukbenilo'ob asab poderosa ti' le yóok'ol kaaba'. U yaalab le yóok'ol kaaba' le superficie caerá le kan k'iin." If we make them submit to us Talokan will be the most powerful nation in the world. The rest of the surface world will fall when the day comes.

A loud clapping noise filled the air and even the Wakandans heard it. As well as they witnessed your hand come up to smack Namor across the face. The stinging slap had his left cheek turning red.

His head snapped to the side from the force of it, and you waited for him to turn back to you with guilt in his eyes.

"Ku suponía u debías negociar jump'éel tratado Jets' óolal yéetel leti'ob. Utia'al u pudieran wáantik ti' le estadounidenses alejados ti' k wotoch. Tu cambio ta meentaj jump'éel rabieta bey juntúul chan xi'ipal petulante ka u negaron ceder." You were supposed to negotiate a peace treaty with them. So they could help keep the Americans away from our home. Instead you threw a tantrum like a petulant child when they refused to yield.

"In yakunaj" He pleaded with you.

"No Namor we talked about this" You said backing him away from him to run a hand through your wet hair. Your eyes drifted to the people standing before you. All of them regarded you with wonder and suspicion. The damage your husband caused wasn't beyond repair, but it was going to take a lot. For starters he had to be on the same page as you.

You went over to him to cup his face between your hands lifting his face back up. "Wakanda ka Talokan serán imparables wa k unimos bey juntúul chéen, ba'ale' ma' u páajtal meentik jump'éel alianza ichil le desconfianza yéetel le odio. Yaan k k'aax le bey chíikbesik." Wakanda and Talokan will be unstoppable if we come together as one, but you can't build an alliance off the back of distrust and hatred. We have to treat them as our own.

Namor closed his eyes and sighed "I'm sorry."

"You need to tell them that" You instructed nodding your head in the Queen's direction.

You took a step back watching as Namor turned to face Queen Ramonda, her daughter Shuri, and their guards. He laid his spear down on the platform and backed away placing the palms of his hands together and curling his fingers in.

Inside The Palace

Shuri reached out grasping her mother's arm. "I think he is surrendering."

"How can we be sure? Who is the woman?" Queen Ramonda questioned.

"The woman is his wife. He told she wanted peace between Talokan and Wakanda." Shuri explained meeting your soft eyes that seem to bore into her soul inviting her into your own world. She felt as if she could trust you.

You gave her a small apologetic smile and followed suit with giving her Talokan greeting.

"What does that mean?" Nakia asked this time a bit unsure.

"She's saying hello and maybe sorry at the same time. She wants to talk and I think we should listen." Shuri told them.

"I don't think that would be a wise idea" M'Baku voiced his concern.

Queen Ramonda watched as Namor stood by your side with his weapon still at his feet. Gone was the hatred in his eyes replaced now with shame as he barely met her gaze. You had that effect on him. If you were anything like your husband. She could possibly be injured or even worse dead by now.

"We will hear them out" She announced.

Everyone in the throne room let out collective gasps expect Shuri.

"Just one more question though" Okoye started waiting till Shuri turned to her.

"Where has she been all this time?"

[cloudbersoo]

would you mind?｜zhang hao

synopsis: how to get over a guy you didn’t even date in ten easy steps with the help of zhang hao.

tags: zhang hao x gn!reader, acquaintances to lovers, university au, fluff, slight angst, y/n likes someone else at the beginning, y/n is very drunk, making out when drunk, shy!hao, bestie!matthew has no filter, roommate!taerae, hanbin keeps laughing, what did jiwoong do though? y/n overthinks a little sometimes, mentions of sex and implied sex but no explicit smut! (im a minor and can’t write smut for the life of me)

word count: 6k (how did this get so long?)

a/n: this is my first fic in like six years and the first in english altogether! idk how to feel about this one but i thought to post it anyway. writing this honestly made me respect fanfic writers so much more, it really isn’t easy! this took me like five days to make. not sure how often i’ll be doing this but i enjoyed writing a lot. sorry for any grammar errors or such, i proofread this a couple of times, but my english isn’t perfect, so some mistakes might go past me. anyway, thanks and sorry! enjoy reading!

my playlist while writing: in bloom & new kidz on the block by zb1, cream soda & private party by exo, roller coaster & party o’clock by nmixx !!

i. drink your feelings away

“finally you’re here” matthew mumbled in his slightly drunken stage, leaning onto a wall as you closed the door behind you. you could hear the music and people’s chatter coming from the living room. the smell of alcohol was also very strong, especially on your friend. you wished you could just turn back and go home. you were way too miserable to party right now but the sweet smile matthew was giving you was making you stay. you couldn’t possibly disappoint your best friend on his special day.

“yeah, sorry for being late” you finally answered to the birthday boy as you handed out your gift with a forced smile. “happy birthday matt.” 

he took the bottle of wine and chuckled. “thank you y/n” he said, looking at the bottle of his favourite. “for this and for coming tonight” he continued as he raised his gaze to you apologetically. 

“of course” you uttered, trying your best to convince your friend you wanted to be here, as if you didn’t just think about leaving two seconds ago. your convincing didn’t seem to be working as matthew sighed. matthew put down the bottle and walked in front of you. he examined your face for a while before he embraced you in a hug. “he didn’t deserve you anyway” he whispered close to your ear.

right.

jaemin.

the guy who broke your heart just a few days ago. he didn’t mean to, you suppose. he just didn’t realise you were totally in love with him when he introduced you to his partner of three years. how stupid could you be?

you held your tiers in at the mention of him. not today. you can cry about it later. 

you embraced your friend for a while as you collected yourself. “you know what matt?” You finally spoke as you made eye contact with him. matthew hummed, looking at you with anticipation. 

“i’m going to have fun tonight.”

ii. embarrass yourself

about five bottles of soju and a couple beers later you were completely out of it. you were somewhere in matthew’s apartment, kitchen or living room, you were not entirely sure. laying on the cold floor with zero thoughts of your shattered heart. you felt at peace. your peace, however, didn’t last long as it was eventually broken by a familiar voice calling your name. 

“y/n? you okay down there?” the voice asked with amusement. you opened your eyes and were met with hanbin’s gaze from above you. he must have found your state hilarious as he bursted out laughing. 

you got up from the floor with difficulty and flopped next to him on the couch. “never been better” you mumbled to your friend with a relaxed smile. you started making yourself comfortable and leaned your head on hanbin’s shoulder. what you failed to notice in your drunken state was the other person sitting on the couch. the one you were currently cuddling up to.

“hao” your friend started. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen y/n so wasted” hanbin laughed with tears in his eyes. 

what. 

suddenly, you were too aware of your surroundings, like there was no alcohol in your system anymore. you quickly got up and saw that hanbin was not in fact the person you had leaned into. the person sitting next to you was hanbin’s good friend, zhang hao. the boy’s face flushed as he looked at your shocked face.

oh my god.

you were not that familiar with zhang hao. you knew he was good friends with hanbin and matthew. he was from the music department just like your roommate taerae, and you were pretty sure he played the violin. he was reserved and quiet, and definitely not the most fond of you (even though your friends have tried to convince you otherwise). a friend of a friend. that’s what he was. not someone who you could comfortably cuddle with. this is so embarrassing.

“i’m so sorry!” you quickly blurted out as you hid your face behind your palms. you could still hear hanbin’s laugh as you were thinking about your way out of the situation. 

“it’s o-okay” zhang hao managed to stutter. you were in too deep thought to hear what the boy in front of you was saying. you searched for your other friend in the crowd. it’s time for me to leave. as you found matthew by the balcony with a girl, you turned back to the men on the couch. “i’m just gonna go!” you quickly said to prevent any more embarrassment and made your way to your best friend.

he saw you coming from afar and smirked at you. “you’ve definitely enjoyed yourself” matthew said delightfully. oh. he definitely saw everything.

“you saw nothing” you bit back and leaned onto your friend as the alcohol started to kick back in again. “i’m going home” you continued. could you even walk straight? no. but you could just call your roommate to meet you halfway.

“in this state? no you’re not” the boy slurred just as drunk as you were. he wrapped his arm around your shoulder in an attempt to keep you from leaving. you were glad your friend cared about your safety even when he was drunk. his company, however, was not enjoying the sight in front of her and you could tell you had interrupted something. 

“i’ll call taerae to pick me up, don’t worry.” you assured your friend. “i’ll leave you two alone now.” you gave a smile to the girl and mouthed “sorry” as you left the two before matthew could protest any further.

iii. make a foolish choice

walking down four sets of stairs with your hands occupied by your phone was a challenge. you somehow made it though and were trying to contact your roommate. he was not answering. where is he? your apartment wasn’t that far from matthew’s but the darkness was creeping you out a little. you sent a quick text to taerae, saying you were coming home before you started your journey. 

you had made it past a couple turns when you started feeling like someone was following you. you’re just being paranoid, that's all. but the feeling only grew stronger as you clearly heard footsteps behind you. you were already walking as fast as you could in your state. is this the end?  “i’m gonna die-”

“y/n,” you quickly turned around to the familiar voice. 

zhang hao.

“oh it’s just you” you said as you relaxed until it hit you. zhang hao. the reason why you had run away from the party in the first place. your surprise finally showed on your face, which zhang hao found amusing. 

"sorry if I scared you” he let out an airy laugh while awkwardly standing in front of you. for some reason you had never really looked at the boy. he was tall and his hair was still styled nicely even after a long day. he was wearing a light blue button up shirt with black jeans that seemed way out of your price range. there was something about the way he was looking at you under the glow of the streetlights. he was looking at you with stars in his eyes, like there was no one else but the two of you in the world. the sight of him almost made your heart skip a beat. he had a few moles on his face, one right under his eye and another on his cheek that you wish you could kiss right now. has he always been this pretty? 

no. why is he here? 

he tried to give you a reassuring smile as he took a step closer. “you shouldn’t walk alone at this hour, it’s not safe for you.” he continued like he had just read your mind.

“so you think I'm safe with you?” you asked, slightly teasing. it was definitely the alcohol speaking.

the boy’s eyes widened in shock and he opened his mouth to say something but failed. “well- I mean” zhang hao finally responded with panic, not quite sure what he was supposed to say. you couldn’t hold your giggles which seemed to ease his nerves. his figure seemed to relax as he walked past you. “my apartment isn’t that far from yours, so we can just walk together. it’s safer for both of us.” zhang hao finished. 

lies. you’ve once picked hanbin up from his apartment and it's nowhere near yours. however, zhang hao didn’t need to know that you knew. you wouldn’t mind walking home with him even if the two of you weren’t that close, because he was right – this was safer (not because he suddenly made you think of things you haven't before).

so, the two of you continued walking towards your place. zhang hao didn’t say much as you walked, only telling you to be more careful as you almost stumbled to the ground. he also decided to hold you up from your waist from that point on – which you definitely didn’t mind. he didn’t seem to mind either as there was no signs of annoyance that you would’ve except from zhang hao in this situation.  

“we’re here” he said as the two of you stood in front of your apartment building. you really didn’t want him to go. you really didn’t want to be alone at all. because you knew the moment you were alone again you’d break down again and cry about the guy who broke your heart. just for this one night, you wished not to cry yourself to sleep. maybe it was foolish of you to ask zhang hao of all people to comfort you, but right now you couldn’t think of anything else. 

“would you like to come in?”

“do you need help to get to your door?”

you both had talked at the same time. you broke eye contact as the two of you chuckled. so he didn’t want to leave yet either? as it got quiet again you decided to look at the boy again. zhang hao seemed hesitant as he studied your face. then he smiled at you as he said “if that’s what you need.”

iv. get cockbocked by a roommate

some might find the silence between you and zhang hao awkward, but you found it soothing. he was drinking the water you had given him as you sat on the kitchen counter. he looked even more handsome up close. the way he was leaning onto the counter and the way he was looking at you. oh, how much you wished to make him yours tonight. would he mind? 

your mind stopped wandering as the boy put down his glass on the sink. “i should probably go and let you sleep” he said quietly as he stood in front of you. he was incredibly close to you, his hand on your knee, his nose almost touching yours – like he didn’t want to leave. you couldn’t help but lower your gaze to his lips. they were pink and puffy, slightly wet like they were waiting to be kissed. you looked back to zhang hao’s eyes but they didn’t meet yours. he was doing the same thing – staring at your lips. 

maybe you were going to regret it. maybe this wasn’t right, kissing your friends’ friend. but you couldn’t possibly think about any of that as you leaned in. 

his lips felt as soft as they looked. it took a moment for zhang hao to realise what was happening but eventually he kissed you back. his left hand landed on your cheek as his right hand went up your thigh. the kiss deepened as you put your hands around the boy's neck, pulling him closer to you. you don’t remember the last time you have been kissed like this. he was driving you insane and you wished he’d never stop. 

“y/n?” you hear a voice say at the door. 

taerae.

you and zhang hao froze before you rapidly let go of each other. sleepy taerae rubbed his eyes walking into the kitchen as you tried to calm your beating heart. so he didn’t answer because he was asleep. you took a look at zhang hao who’s blush was prominent even in the dark. “when did you get home?” your roommate asked as he yawned.

“zhang hao walked me, i was just giving him some water before he left.” you blurted out an excuse, which wasn’t inherently a lie – taerae didn’t need to know what happened after that. your sleepy roommate didn’t look suspicious and seemed to buy it. “he was actually just about to leave.” you took another look at zhang hao, trying to get him to say something. 

“yeah, i’ll just get going then.” he said, bid taerae goodbye, and was out of the apartment in mere minutes. 

fuck.

v. overthink your life choices

lunch used to be your favourite time of the day, mostly because you used to share it with jaemin all the time. matthew barely ever had time to eat lunch with you, which is how you got to know jaemin in the first place. the two of you clicked instantly and you thought there was something between you. how wrong you were. the past week you have been distancing yourself from jaemin and he hasn't been asking after you. you really meant nothing to him in the end. even now he’s just a few tables away loudly debating about something with his group of friends, completely unaware of the effect he has had on you.

taerae’s giggles seem to wake you from your slumber. you moved your gaze from jaemin to your roommate. he was laughing over a video hanbin had just shown him. “what is jiwoong doing?” he managed to say between giggles. 

“speaking of the devil” hanbin said as he waved past your shoulder. jiwoong walked to your table with zhang hao next to him, which was odd as the two of you’ve had a similar relationship with the chinese boy up until a few days ago (unless jiwoong had also been making out with him recently). “what did i do?” jiwoong questioned his friends as he placed his lunch on the table.

“nothing, nothing. where’s matthew?” hanbin said as he hid his phone with a grin.

“he’s on a date” you said nonchalantly. everyone at the table suddenly turned their heads towards you. they had totally forgotten you were even there as you had spent most of your break staring at a certain someone. you should get your shit together.

“oh right, zhang hao! thanks for walking y/n home the other night.” taerae said as zhang hao sat next to hanbin. well shit. you hadn’t told anyone of what had happened with zhang hao after matthew’s party. you hadn’t even talked to zhang hao since then. you felt awful that you had tried to use him to forget about someone else, and then kicked him out as your roommate found the two of you. you weren’t sure how you were supposed to even bring it up to him when you were never alone with him anyway. 

“you walked her home?” hanbin questioned as he turned his head to his left where zhang hao was sitting. the boy only gave his friend a small nod as he dug into his food. his aura seemed so different in the daylight. his hair wasn’t styled like at the party, it was a bit all over the place. the way he stuffed his mouth full of food made him look cute. his cheeks were slightly pink with blush. while observing the boy, you had completely missed the teasing smile on hanbin’s face.

how were you supposed to talk to him? thanks for walking me home and making out with me in my kitchen. does he even want to talk about it? the two of you had seen each other around campus a couple times since then and he hasn't tried to talk to you once. maybe all of it was just a spur of the moment thing for him that he now wished to forget about.

you sighed as you decided it was your time to leave for class. there was no way you were going to talk to zhang hao now anyway, not in front of all your friends. “my lecture is starting soon, i’ll go now.” you said as you stood up. taking your things with you and hearing people say their goodbyes, you were on your way.

“wait, are we just going to ignore the fact that matthew is on a date?” you could hear jiwoong ask behind you.

vi. get help

“so…” matthew said in a teasing tone as he sat across from you at the library. 

“so, what?” you questioned, like you had no idea what your best friend was referring to. well, in your defence, you never knew with matthew, but you had a feeling this conversation topic started with a z and ended with hang hao. “you and hao?” he continued, just like you had anticipated, raising his eyebrows. 

“what about me and zhang hao?” you continued, acting clueless in the hopes of him dropping the conversation. 

“after what i saw at my birthday party and then hearing he walked you home, i hoped the two of you worked out the weird tension between you two and finally fucked” your friend blurted out in a very matthew way, like it was the most obvious conclusion to come to in the world. 

“we did not!” you raised your voice a little too much as you tried to defend yourself. you got a few judging stares from the people around you who were trying to study. something you were supposed to do as well, instead of having this conversation about zhang hao. “we didn’t fuck…” you continued more quietly. there was no reason for you to lie to your best friend. not when you could use his help.

“but you were going to?” he gave you a knowing look.

“well yeah, but then taerae woke up and i panicked and i kinda kicked zhang hao out-” you started rambling. wait. “how did you know we almost fucked? did he talk to you? what did he say? does he totally hate me now?” you continued like you were going to lose your mind. and now matthew was laughing at you, trying his best to stay quiet. 

“i haven’t talked to anyone, except hanbin, he’s just as convinced there’s something going on between you and hao as i am” your friend finally spoke. if only you knew what was going on between the two of you. you sighed and hit your head on the table. “what’s the problem y/n? you know, you could just text him and ask him" matthew said.

“i don’t have his number” you mumble in despair. 

“what? how can you not have his number?” matthew asked, confused.

“why would i? was i supposed to ask for it when we were making out or something?” you said as you lifted your head from the table, looking at your friend who definitely didn’t need to hear any more details of that night.

matthew took his phone out of his pocket, and gave it to you after a moment. “here, take his number and text him”

vii. become friends

you were currently sitting down at a park you had agreed to meet with zhang hao. matthew was able to convince you it was better to sort things out with zhang hao sooner than later. but now that you were here, waiting for the guy, you couldn’t help but feel nervous. it was warm as summer was finally coming and you felt like you were sweating buckets. was it the weather or your nerves – you were not quite sure.

“hi, did you have to wait long?” you hear a familiar voice from your left and see zhang hao’s figure coming towards you. he waved at you while giving you a sweet smile. damn. he’s so pretty. 

“oh no, not at all” you answered, trying to give the boy a smile to hide your nervousness. 

“what did you want to talk about?” zhang hao said calmly as he sat down next to you. unlike the other night, now he had left much space between the two of you. he didn’t seem nervous at all, which made you feel uneasy. maybe this wasn’t as big of a deal for him as it was for you. 

“at matt’s party, i’m sorry for being such a mess and dragging you into it” you decided to tell him. “i had a few too many drinks that night.” you took a look at zhang hao. he seemed surprised, maybe a little hurt as he tried to get comfortable on the bench. was that not the right thing to say?  “i mean, i probably made you uncomfortable and then i rushed you out of my place when taerae woke up, it was super rude of me to-” you were starting to ramble. 

“i wasn’t uncomfortable” he cut you off. he finally turned to look at you again “i wouldn’t have come in if i was.” there was the look again, making your heart beat louder on your chest. he was looking at you like he did under the streetlights, like you were the only person in the world that mattered. you wouldn’t mind getting lost in his eyes. “so don’t be too sorry, i enjoyed it as long as it lasted.” he gave you a shy smile.

oh.

this was the first time the boy had made you blush, usually it was the other way around. you broke eye contact to hide your shyness from him. “cool, cool” you started quite awkwardly. “we should probably be casual about all this, since we're friends and all…”

“we’re friends now? i’m cool with that” zhang hao replied with amusement.

“i mean, we’ve known each other long enough to call us that, i guess” you tried to reason, not realising your friend was only teasing you. as you turned your gaze back to him you saw him still smiling at you. this man will be the death of me. “well that’s that. sorry i can’t stay longer, i have places to be. bye zhang hao.” you said as you got up from the bench. you had nowhere to be, but you couldn’t possibly handle being in zhang hao’s presence any longer. 

“bye friend!” he yelled after you still with a teasing tone.

viii. feel nothing

you and your new friend zhang hao have gotten along well since your talk at the park. nothing has changed that much, except now you greet each other at campus, engage in conversation together, and sometimes share memes with each other. you have tried to convince matthew that you and zhang hao are really just friends and nothing more. matthew just can’t help himself when he teases you with kissy noises every time you interact with zhang hao. he’s the only other person that knows about your little secret. even hanbin doesn’t know, because if he did — everyone would. 

you were finally finished with your last class of the day, walking out of your department building. you felt at ease as everything in your life was finally going well. you were able to sort things out with zhang hao, you weren’t particularly struggling with any classes, and you were barely thinking about him, who shall not be named. 

as if on cue, there he was standing a few meters away from you. jaemin. he wasn’t alone though, as he was having a conversation with someone. you couldn’t quite tell what the two were talking about, not that really even mattered to you. contrary to popular belief, your heart no longer ached at the sight of him. you continued your journey with no intent to interact with jaemin, at least not until you realised who exactly he was talking with. when you were close enough you could recognize the other man’s voice.

what was zhang hao doing with jaemin? the sight in front of you felt really odd, but you couldn’t possibly look away. zhang hao almost towered over jaemin, paying attention to what the latter was talking about. he was wearing glasses that complimented his face well. one of his sleeves was rolled up revealing his toned arm. he looked so mesmerising, you couldn't help but stare.

it didn’t take long for you to be caught staring as jaemin called out your name. “wow it’s been so long. how have you been?” he asked happily as you took a few steps closer to the two. zhang hao was surprised to see you, his gaze moving between you and jaemin. his face filled with worry made you think he must have heard about jaemin and you from someone (definitely not from hanbin). you gave zhang hao a reassuring smile as you greeted jaemin, who was ready to embrace you in a hug. 

“i’ve been well” you sounded a little awkward as the two of you let go. an act that used to make your heart do backflips no longer felt like anything. “what were you two talking about? i didn’t know you even knew each other.” you asked out of curiosity as you stood next to zhang hao, who suddenly put his arm around your shoulder. you turned your head towards your friend, trying to understand what he was up to. 

“we’ve shared a few classes here and there” zhang hao said as he turned his head to face you. he was so close to you again, making your heart beat louder on your chest. “you’re ready to go?” he continued. you could only show your confusion on your face as you didn’t trust your voice to say anything at the close proximity. “dinner? remember?” he gave you a wink.

what? you were completely lost. what was this man talking about? 

“oooh, date night?” jaemin cooed in front of you. he took his headphones out of his back and put them over his ears. “i won't waste your time anymore then. y/n we should totally catch up sometime!” he didn’t wait for your response before he left. 

you and zhang hao stayed close to each other in silence for a while. you wondered if he could hear the way your heart was beating for him. you tried to look for answers from his face but to no avail. finally, zhang hao moved and removed his hand off of you, what had felt like way too soon. “sorry” he said as he stood in front of you. “you must have felt awkward seeing him” he continued, scratching the back of his neck. 

“did you do all that to get rid of him? i’m fine, i don’t like him like that anymore” you felt the need to clarify to him.

“oh” he said, blush breaking to his face and neck. “well, i was getting tired of him anyway” he excused and removed his gaze from you to hide his embarrassment. you thought he looked the cutest whenever he got shy or embarrassed. 

your laugh seemed to peak his interest again, as he turned his gaze back on you. your blushing face, matching his own. a comfortable silence fell between you again. ”just friends huh?” you could hear matthew’s teasing voice in your head.

“y/n?” zhang hao eventually spoke. you hummed as a response, waiting him to carry on. “have you eaten yet?” the boy continued hesitantly. 

“no, not yet” you answered truthfully, not quite sure where the conversation was going. zhang hao stayed quiet for a while. he was nervously shifting on his place, turning his face away from you once again. he was trying to find the right way to ask you.

“would you like to go out for dinner then?” he asked carefully. 

“sure!” you answered enthusiastically. you were starving at this point and wouldn’t mind spending some time with friends as well. “who else is coming?” 

“well, i thought it could be just us…” the boy responded, still not daring to look at you. 

oh.

“oh! that works too. sure. yeah.” you replied, definitely not embarrassed that you didn’t get the hint right away. “does indian sound good to you? i’m craving butter chicken” you continued, trying to move the conversation onwards, while your heart kept beating hard against your chest. 

“if that’s what you want, it’s good with me” zhang hao said and the two of you started your way out of campus, both a blushing mess.

ix. feel everything

you were not entirely sure what to think. had you just been on a date? zhang hao didn’t explicitly call it that, but it surely had felt like one. the dinner went smoothly, it didn’t feel awkward and the two of you were able to talk to each other comfortably. he constantly smiled at you and asked you questions about your life, putting the effort into getting to know you. he even insisted on paying for your meal in the end. 

you got to know things about him as well, as zhang hao no longer felt shy talking to you. he’s an only child and very close with his mom. he chose to play the violin, because it’s much easier to carry around compared to a cello. him and jiwoong have gotten closer lately because jiwoong had asked him to help him with a song he has been working on. he also revealed that he was glad that the two of you have gotten closer, which made you question things even more.

you were walking to your apartment in silence, completely sober this time. zhang hao had insisted on walking you home again, “as a man should” he had said. the way his hand was accidentally brushing against yours every once in a while was giving you butterflies in your stomach. you were not entirely sure if the man next to you even realises how much of an effect he had on you. you weren’t walking that fast because you really didn’t want the night to end. 

must to your dismay, you ended up in front of your apartment building. it felt like deja vu, standing in front of him again. you didn’t want zhang hao to leave, but you weren’t sure if it was appropriate to invite him in. you couldn't hide behind the confidence alcohol had given you last time. you didn't know what to say, so you settled on just staring at his face, completely mesmerised. he was doing the same, his gaze wandering on your face, like he was trying to remember each little detail of you. 

“i should…” zhang hao started, now looking straight into your eyes. “i should probably go now” he continued, not at all convincing. he made no effort to move, which finally gave you the confidence to talk. it won’t hurt to ask, right?

“i could offer you a glass of water before you go” you said, tearing your gaze away, still slightly scared of what he might answer. “you know, taerae’s not home tonight…” you added. as you heard no answer from the boy, you hesitantly took a look at him. he was smiling at you again, the way he had been all dinner. 

zhang hao took a step closer, raising his hand to hold your chin, making you hold eye contact with him. he lowered his gaze slowly to your lips, looking at you like you were someone to be desired. “you sure?” he finally spoke in a lower voice, still staring at your lips. you could only hum in response. and then he leaned in to kiss you. 

his lips were soft, but he pushed them hard against yours. he tasted like cherries as you kissed him back. the kiss deepened quickly as his tongue pushed past your lips. his arms lowered to your hips, pulling you closer, as you put yours behind his neck, playing with his hair. you didn’t stop until you both were almost running out of air.

zhang hao let out an airy laugh. “i’ve wanted to do that for a while” he confessed, your arms still tangled around each other. he was looking at you with so much adoration.

“yeah? me too” you smiled, your cheeks slightly pink. you let go of the boy to open the door to your apartment building. he held onto your arm as the two of you walked towards the elevator. you turned to look at zhang hao, who’s cheeks were a shade of pink as well. he noticed you staring and gave you another sweet smile. the door finally opened, and he couldn’t even wait till you got to your apartment, as he stole another kiss from you as you entered the elevator.

“i honestly thought you didn’t like me at all” you admitted to him as you parted from the kiss.

“that’s what hanbin always told me” zhang hao answered, now with a pout on his lips. “i was just too shy to talk to you, you’re like the most gorgeous person i’ve ever laid my eyes on” he continued, no longer daring to look you in the eye. even he seemed a little surprised by his sudden confession. 

oh. 

you’ve received compliments before, but hearing one from zhang hao felt different. your cheeks heated up again, and you could feel your excitement all the way down on your stomach. you wanted him so badly, you could only wish he felt the same way. when the elevator stopped, you decided to quickly peck the boy's cheek before you dragged him to your apartment.

once the door to your apartment closed behind you, you were all over each other. his lips connected with yours as your arms roamed all over your bodies. you couldn’t get enough of him, wanting him even closer to you. you stumbled over to your bedroom, where you gave him one more kiss before backing away.

zhang hao looked at you with concern. “are you okay?” he asked while still holding you closely.

“yeah, i just- i want to make sure you want this as much i do” you answered, studying his face for any signs of regret or hesitation. 

“i really like you y/n, and i want this more than you think” he admitted. he detached one of his hands from you to remove his glasses out of the way, putting them down to your nightstand. he lowered his hand on your cheek, cherishing it gently. “let me show you just how much you mean to me.”

so you let him, as you kissed him again.

x. fall in love

you were still out of breath as you cuddled up to zhang hao’s bare body. he wrapped his hand around you and squeezed you closer to him, twirling your hair with his fingers. you laid your head against his chest, drawing circles on his toned body, sighing with content. you felt zhang hao’s lips against your forehead, giving you a peck after peck. the act made you giggle, turning your gaze to him.

“what?” you asked.

“nothing, i’m just really happy” he answered, giving you one more kiss on your lips. he looked at you with so much love and warmth, which made you feel like you were dreaming. you couldn’t help but wonder what made you deserve to meet someone like zhang hao. no one has made you feel this good in such a long time, if ever. suddenly, very overwhelmed with your feelings, you hid your face on the crook of his neck.

you felt zhang hao’s chest vibrate from the laughter he let out. “cute” he whispered quietly, mostly to just himself, cherishing your head again. you got comfortable again, almost falling asleep in his embrace. his breath also evening out as he was slowly drifting away to sleep too.

“i really like you too, zhang hao” you sleepily mumbled against his skin, before the two of you fell into dreamland together.

- end

bonus:

“why do you always call me zhang hao?”

“maybe because it’s your name??”

“yes, but everyone calls me hao. you’re the only one who calls me zhang hao”

“oh”

“well, hao, i’ll call you that from now on”

the boy’s face flushed red as he finally heard you say his name. 

“oh my god, you’re so cute!” 

he turns his face to hide his blush from you.

“shut up”

[copper-16]

been thinking about your platonic andrea + lola fic especially since andrea missed the last penalty that took atletico out of the CL. would you ever write a fic about that?

idk andrea feeling really guilty and pulling away from the team and lola reminding her that she’s more than just her bad moments on the pitch?

:)

The way this ask made me GASP...I posted this fic OVER a year ago and someone still remembers it? I cannot explain my excitement, especially because it's such a little niche/rarepair fic. It makes my YEAR when people still remember those silly little fics I made. If rarepair or platonic stuff was more popular I would probably have a million fics to write, honestly.

I wasn't ever planning to write about them again - but I pumped something out solely because I was so excited by you mentioning it 😭 It's not a full fic necessarily which is why I'm just posting it on here.

I Try, I Try

Andrea misses the penalty, crushing Atlético Madrid's dream of playing in the Champions League. Crushing Lola's dream of playing in the Champions League. The defender struggles to cope before she receives an important reminder.

If there was one thing that would have motivated Lola to save every single one of those penalties, it would be the sight of Andrea on the pitch after missing her own. It was burned into her brain it felt like, the image of the younger girl right next to the celebrating Rosenborg team, her head in her hands. 

Lola was absolutely disappointed after the loss. But she had been lucky to have a long career, to have won a Champions League trophy, to have experienced so many losses and victories. But the defender was still young, and it was a different kind of pressure and expectation to be the one to take the final penalty in a shootout. Especially one where the result determined if they had a shot at playing on the international stage. 

And Andrea hadn’t even flinched when she had been selected, insisting that she was ready. She was putting on a brave face, Lola could tell. 

But it was that kind of strength and the right attitude that made good players great ones. The keeper was proud of her for being a team player and fighting till the end, even if it wasn’t their day. Even if she wanted to cry, the blonde made her way around to her other teammates, patting them on the back and holding back her clear upset. 

Lola simply wished it didn’t have to end this way. The younger girl had been nearly catatonic in the changing room, on the bus ride, on the plane. 

It had been Carmen who had taken Andrea home, given that the two of them lived in the same apartment building. Lola had pulled the older defender aside, asking her quietly to keep an eye on their younger teammate. 

When the keeper asked Andrea if she wanted to come over to her and Christina’s apartment, she only received a muted head shake in response. The younger girl could barely even look her in the eyes as she brushed the keeper off, though not unkindly. 

It had taken less than two hours for Carmen to call Lola to come over, her voice filled with worry. 

The older woman rode a strange line sometimes, wanting to respect Andrea’s boundaries while also understanding that sometimes people didn’t always exactly say what they wanted. She did feel a certain responsibility to protect the defender from the harsh realities of the world, but she couldn’t solve everything. 

Personally, she hated the fact, even if she knew that she held no control over it. 

She makes it to Andrea and Carmen’s apartment building in record time, meeting her former partner by the door to the younger girlfriend’s apartment.

“I could hear her crying in her room when I was making her some food and I…I don’t know. She hates being alone, it feels more like she’s trying to punish herself than process,” Carmen said with exasperation, but underneath her tone is thinly veiled worry. 

“You probably aren’t far off,” Lola acquiesced, turning her head briefly to look at the door. “I’ve got her, you can go back up to your place. Don’t forget to ice your knee,” the keeper said with as much captainly authority as she could muster. Carmen rolled her eyes good-naturedly, saluting her teammate somewhat mockingly before she turned to head back up to her own place. 

Lola lets herself into Andrea’s apartment, and despite the fact that the defender’s door is closed, she can hear the muted sounds of crying that ring through the space. She doesn’t even hesitate, striding over to the younger girl’s room before she opens the door gently, poking her head in. 

The soft crying noises shut off abruptly, the entire room entering into a precarious stillness. Lola felt her heart sink at the evidence of the girl’s sadness, even if she knew it was there. 

The older woman doesn’t even bother with asking for an invitation, she simply moves into the room, climbing into Andrea’s bed with her. 

This bed held a million memories, at least for the keeper. Late-night conversations and confessions, the loudest of laughs, a safe space for tears. The mattress greets her warmly, sinking under her as she moves her body closer to Andrea’s, placing her hand gently on the defender’s back. 

“Lola, go away,” Andrea insists, attempting to sound more firm than she felt. Her words come out sounding more like they are from a tearful child, not that Lola cares. 

“It is okay to be upset Andrea, it is okay to cry,” Lola tries, but the blonde still shifts away from her, and the sound of a stuttering breath punctuates the silence around them. 

There is a pause before the younger girl speaks again, her words dripping with rage. 

Not for the team, but rather for herself. 

“It is my fault that we lost. I shouldn’t be crying over something that I had control over.” 

Lola sits up slightly after hearing her words, placing her head in her hand, her elbow pressing into the mattress. When she speaks, her voice is firm, with little room for argument. 

“No, it is not.” 

The sheer force of her words is enough to make Andrea pause and relent in turning over slightly to peer at the dark-haired woman. 

She expects Lola to be looking at her with anger, with frustration. 

First, she lost them an important game, all because she couldn’t shoot a ball into the net properly. Like it wasn’t her only job to do exactly that. 

And now, she was acting like a child, hiding in her bed when all she wanted was a hug and a reminder that she wasn’t the worst footballer in the world. 

She was older now, and she needed to grow up and be realistic. There wasn’t time for all of her big, unnecessary emotions. 

But Lola isn’t looking at her with anger or frustration. She looks more apprehensive and concerned than anything else, and Andrea turns over more fully to face her. 

“I’m so sorry Lola,” she whispers, crushed by the thought that she was the one who ended not only her dreams, the dreams of the team, but Lola’s dream. 

The keeper shakes her head instantly, her expression filling with sympathy. 

“Andrea, it is not your fault. There were 120 minutes, and four other penalties besides your own. This doesn’t rest on all you, I promise,” Lola points out, but Andrea cuts her off with a humorless laugh. 

“Yes, but if I had just made my penalty, my one job, we wouldn’t be here,” she counters, averting her eyes from the older woman. 

“And if I had saved more of the penalties, or the goals, we wouldn’t be here either,” Lola comments, but it doesn’t seem to do anything other than upset the defender more. 

“That is different, and you know it. Nobody expects a keeper to save a penalty, but it is the job of the players to score,” Andrea’s voice is forceful, as though she’s trying to convince herself of the words. 

“By the time we made it to penalties, we had already failed our job. All of us, the whole team, not just you. Just because you are the one who went last, doesn’t mean that our failures for the whole game lay completely on your shoulders,” Lola argues, and when the blonde doesn’t say anything in response, she continues. 

“This is not your fault. We all miss penalties or make mistakes on the job. I can’t even begin to count how many mistakes I have made in my career Andrea, truly. As much as I hate it, it’s a part of the game. And it doesn’t matter how many times it happens, or how old you are, you are allowed to be upset over it. It doesn’t make you immature or weak to cry or feel upset,” the keeper emphasizes, and when she sees the younger girl’s lip begin to wobble, she knows that she’s hit the root of the problem. 

“I’m twenty years old, I shouldn’t be acting this way over a penalty,” she sputters, and Lola settles herself back on the mattress, pulling the younger girl into her. 

“I don’t care how old or mature you are, you are allowed to be upset about things. I am twenty-nine years old and–” Lola starts, though the defender is quick to interject despite her sadness. 

“Aren’t you thirty-on–” Andrea is cut off with a hand that quickly covers her mouth, smothering the rest of her sentence. 

“Shush, I am in my twenties and I haven't finished speaking. As I was saying, I am older than you and I still cry about things all the time, when I feel the need to. It is natural and it is normal, just like it is to talk to other people around you. There is no rule book that says you must go through this alone because you feel that you are the one at fault for the situation. All you are doing is punishing yourself when I promise, you don’t have to,” Lola reassures, Andrea now tucked into her side, her head laying on Lola’s chest. 

There is a pause as silent tears slip down the blonde’s cheeks, as the words of the older woman wash over her. 

“I am so sorry Lola,” she emphasizes, and it’s the repetition of the word that causes the keeper to look down in confusion. 

“Why are you saying sorry to me?” She asks, a little lost on why Andrea needed to apologize to her specifically. 

“You are further along in your career, these chances aren’t always easy to come by, and I screwed it up. I blew your chance this year, and who knows if we’ll have this opportunity again,” Andrea’s voice is small, emotion caught in her throat. 

“I’m so, so sorry. Please don’t…” 

The blonde’s words trail off, but the unspoken part of her sentence is heard loud and clear. 

Please don’t hate me. 

“I could never, I promise you that. You are my teammate, but more importantly, you are my friend. I am proud of you each time you step out onto the pitch, and I consider myself so lucky to be your teammate. We win together, and we lose together. I love you far too much to ever let something like football come between us, even if it is an important match. It’s just a game, and you are…tan especial para mí,” Lola vows, feeling the younger girl curl further into her side, a sigh of relief leaving her exhausted body. 

And it was true. The defender meant so much more to her than anything that football might bring or take away, and she would much rather prioritize that than over something she knew could slip out from under her at any moment. 

“Te amo pequeña,” the older woman murmurs, leaning down to press a kiss to the crown of Andrea’s head. 

The younger girl snuggles into her further, tear tracks down her face finally beginning to dry as she settles into the taller woman. 

“Thank you Mama Lola. Te amo,” she whispers as she drifts off, disappointment now accompanied by the knowledge that she would overcome this. 

And by the fact that she didn’t have to do it alone.

[01zfan]

haiiiii everyone. took a little bit of a break just because.

i don’t really wanna get into all of the accusations and anon hate so we are going to keep everything on an IF-YOU-KNOW-YOU-KNOW basis. i am going to be operating on the assumption that if you follow me you know how i feel about riize. people who are irrationally angry at me and the creative liberties i exercise as a writer will simply just be speaking into the void from here on out.

i want you guys to know i truly didn't take a break solely because of that. if anything i find the situation humorous because i've been having a ball on this account. the people who have been rocking with me from the start know my heart, the people that read my initial post and understand me (even if they don't necessarily agree, which is okay!) know my heart. that's good enough for me. outside voices are just that--OUTSIDE! no one is penetrating this peaceful community i have made for myself and hopefully others on this account.

what i do really really want to say is that being a writer for fandom is hard! this is the first time i’ve ever been a writer for a group so consistently (also ironically the first time i’ve been so busy in my offline life) so i want to say it requires effort. even though i love to write, i love riize, i love to fulfill commissions and requests, and i love to talk with you guys about riize, it does take work. if you have read my fics you can tell i don’t want them to be just straight smut. i like to give you guys stories. sometimes with a themes and hopefully always with a narrative. that's why i don't normally post blurbz...i personally don't like to just get out a quick horny scenario i need PLOT i need ANGST i need SOMETHING TO SINK MY TEETH INTO! part of the reason why i started this account was to hone my creative writing skills and build my chops so i am really story centric.

i take pride in what i put out so it takes work. i try to not be repetitive. i try to give you guys something new that really feels real and also true to the individual members of riize. so even though i am crazy (what writer isn't) and will always write (even if the audience is just me, myself, and i) it is nice when the work is acknowledged! even if it is work i love, it is still work. i know it is hard to imagine someone puts effort into fanfiction, especially as a reader, but i never try to write anything half-assed. maybe i'm burning myself out by writing stories constantly but who knows. what i do know is that feedback and comments and thoughts make me happy! i seriously kick my feet and go back and reread the comments and tags i get on fics constantly! knowing you guys take as much care in reading as much as i take in writing makes me feel so fulfilled. it's the reason i became a writer and it's motivation for me, even beyond this site but in real life too.

i am of course not obligating you guys to interact with me. my milestone post when i hit 1k followers i think i said something along the lines that i remember the people that like my posts often and that is still very much true heh. i recognize people in my notifications, all the years i spent on the internet makes usernames lock in my head like a steel trap. sometimes i post thinking to myself oh so-and-so is gonna love this.

i am rambling but all in all i have amassed a following more than what i expected and i have made a community on this account too. i hope that you guys as part of this community know i am a person behind this account. i like to be told nice things, i like to be judged fairly, i like to be talked to, i like to not be treated like a machine, i like to be respected. the relationship we have as writer and reader is a very beautiful one in my opinion. it's like we are feeding eachother we are not parasitic but mutualistic. bees and flowers. clownfish and sea anemones. humans and gut bacteria. you get the gist. lets just continue having a good time on this account together🫂

[siblingskissing]

Elmax headcanons?

Elmax Headcanons

- they're so skater x roller skater coded

-bur actually I like to think Max teaches El how to skate but El prefers roller skates/rollerblades and they hold hands while they ride together because they love the feeling of wind in their faces-

-if they had lived in Cali at the same time- Max would've killed for El

-(imagining an au where Max never left California and so when the Byers moved their she meets El and defends her)

-Theyre such a dorky clothes sharing couple I'm sorry-

-Max pulling up to a function in a dress and everyone's joking until El comes in with a baseball T-shirt, shorts and a backwards baseball cap that everyone knows is Max's

-they typically love spending the day just being lazy but if they're planning any activities they like to go walking around or shopping. They honestly just enjoy the time out with each other.

-When they shop they always try on clothes together- especially the more expensive stuff neither could afford. It's fun pretending to be different people.

-They both are very rebellious in my mind. They def shoplift together.

-with powers or no powers, that five finger discount is being used and abused by them.

-If El kept in contact with Kali and her group, she would have them meet Max

-Cue a punk Max makeover

-Obviously it's be less glam but you see my vision right-

-Also they'd totally get tattoos together

-maybe they're doing it to help El heal, maybe it's teenage rebellion, but Max is holding El's hand the whole time as they get matching designs.

-they'd probably get piercings too-

-i just imagine that they enjoy the idea of changing with someone they feel safe around. Like "A part of me is going to be different but you're there with me," type shit.

-They love swimming dates during the summer months. Eleven is a water baby and Max loves to indulge her

- they would both wear something like this, thoughax brings and extra shirt because she burns like no ones business-

-Which reminds me: tans perfectly gf x burns easily gf

-Headcanon that Max is Scottish and El has some sort of Italian/Spanish in her that caused these phenomenon

-Chucks x Doc Martin gfs

(guess who's who)

-They definitely write notes to each other in class

-Joyce loves Max and Hopper is okay with her as long as she respects him, which she does to a degree

-Max mostly worries about impressing El's siblings even though she knows them already. It feels more assuring if they enjoy her. Of course the boys accept her and treat her like a younger/ older sister (Max being older than Will makes sense for some reason)

-With that- I think Max is also older than El, obviously not by much but I think if El had been in a normal situation she might have been a grade below the others, maybe that's just me

- Max and El are the salty and sweet gfs, except El prefers the salty and Max the sweet. Everyone gets it wrong

-with that, El drinks black coffee while Max has a little coffee with her sugar.

-El definitely confesses to her first and that's the day max realized she liked girls

-I head canon Max as Bisexual and El as some form of queer- I don't think she would really care about labels, or probably wouldn't like having one. She likes who she likes and no one matters outside of that

Sorry this took so long to come out! Life is being crazy so I'm trying to get as much done as possible while still producing content! I will say that I'm planning a few fics to post on my new AO3 so keep an eye out for links

[ladyazurith]

So I have a fic that I've never been able to write because every time I've tried, I can't get it started in a satisfactory fashion. It's pretty much inspired by the music from Tangled: The Series because that series has music that has no right to be that good.

The premise heavily depends on the backstory HC I have for Cater. A short synopsis is that Cater finds out from Jamil, that Kalim only joined the Light Music Club, and befriended him because his father told him to.

For the record, Kalim did nothing Malicious here. He took his father's recommendation and found out that Cater and Lilia were cool people and he liked hanging out with them. So while he *met* him because of his father's suggestion, he didn't actually befriend him for this reason. Other than like one AU I've written and when he got possessed at Halloween I don't think Kalim would ever actually do something to hurt someone like that.

He also finds out that the reason Lilia joined the Light Music Club and why Malleus avoids him is because they figured out his family ancestry (something Cater doesn't even know) and thought he was a threat to Malleus at first. Again like Kalim, Liliia found out that Cater wasn't a threat, didn't realize that he was anything but human, and actually a pretty chill guy and fun to hang out with. But Malleus still avoided him to be safe.

There is a lot of explanation of what exactly my HC background for Cater is, and I should probably make a post about that, but not here! The basics are Cater's father is super rich, and his mother is descended from Fae royalty that everyone thinks is wiped out. And he has a really bad relationship with his family and feels like an outcast/not really part of them. Anyway back on track!

Specifically the songs I have in mind are: (All the songs ignore the actual romantic interest, I've given them to who I feel fits the role properly)

Everything I Thought I Knew: Cater discovering everything and finding out about his ancestral family and everything else that's happened.

Cater: Eugene

Ready as I'll Ever Be: (Of course, this song is overused but still good) Cater breaking down, feeling hurt, I know the idea that Cater could kidnap MALLEUS is a stretch but I'm going to say Iron was involved somehow -_- (things I'm still working through/reasons it's not written yet XD)

Cater: Varian

Malleus: The Queen

Silver: Cassandra

Lilia: Cassandra's adoptive father

Sebek: Eugene

Yuu: Rapunzel (I don't have a really good counterpart for her Father, I'd say Crowley, but he's useless and I don't like making him competent and caring)

Waiting In the Wings: (Because I feel like this song was practically written for Vil) Not sure how well it would work overall in the fic, but I'm going over Tangled music so I have to include it

Vil: Cassandra

Crossing the Line: I've always seen Riddle and Cater's relationship as something that Riddle cherishes, he takes Cater at face value, and really respects him. Cater on the other hand having always hidden his real self still views the friendship as one of the shallow ones he'd see fade away. See's himself *below* Riddle. Riddle has no idea how much Cater's hurting. I think it would be very hard on him.

Riddle: Rapunzel

Cater: Cassandra

Nothing Left to Loose: This is a big one for me. I've had this one in my head so much. I really want to do something with this scene even if I don't write the rest of the fic.

I've always envisioned it with Vil and Cater, Cater on the verge of Overblot, and Vil who's been through it before trying to talk him down.

Especially with the "Cass trust me becoming the villain isn't the answer." "That's what you think I am?" and the exchange with "Not like you, you lost your nerve, you lost the game, but you and I we're not the same, I'm not lost this fate was mine to choose"

There just seems to be power there and emotional potential.

Maybe I can polish it up and finally get it written when I finish one of my other long form fics, because I can almost guarantee this would be a very long one.

[the-obnoxious-sibling]

in which this story comes to an end. (fucking finally.)

part eight of the post-marineford portion of the near miss fics! (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7) if you have no idea what i’m talking about but would like to read a shanks/buggy story about kissing in disguise and then having to deal with the emotional fallout of doing that, click on this link, that’s the tag for the whole thing in chronological order. (plus a fair bit of complaining about writing, one inspirational improvised musical number, and a snippet of shanks pov) if you do know what i’m talking about: it’s done! it’s done!! i wish i could say i planned to end this on 3/8 but lmao, did not know the significance of the day until, like, this tuesday. but it’s done. i’m taking a break from the world of this story to work on some gift exchange fics, but i will be uploading the first few fics to ao3 soon, and should start posting the shanks POV post-marineford story in late april. if there are scenes you’d especially like his POV on, let me know! i’ll do my best to incorporate them.

Buggy spent a very cathartic half-hour shouting at a bunch of guys who ate up his words with a spoon.  Always eager to please, the men obediently found themselves disembarkation buddies, cleaned up the messes they’d made, and started gathering their things (mostly weapons they’d stolen off the guards at Impel Down).

It was nice to be respected, Buggy thought as he watched them scurry around the ship.  However misplaced the respect, it made people listen to him, something Buggy had wanted for as long as he could remember.  He’d never been able to get enough.  Probably never would, if the hunger that grew every time these men cheered his name was anything to go by.

He wandered up to the room he shared with Galdino—thankfully empty, he didn’t want to end up in another slap fight over details—and took care of his own possessions. (It wouldn’t do to have any excuses to delay or hang back when they got to the meeting point.) With the modified Marine jacket and hat back on, Buggy could fit everything else in a small satchel that he strapped around his waist, neatly hidden by a twist in a sash and the way the jacket fell.  He left the room… more or less the way it had been when he arrived—there was no way to hide that dent in the wall, and Galdino would have to be the one to deal with the smear of wax across half the bed—and exited the room for the last time, taking in the view of the deck below with a contented sigh.

The Red Force was a well-run ship—a compliment Buggy would never voice aloud, but in the privacy of his own mind he allowed himself to think it.  Even with hundreds of strangers aboard who couldn’t help but get in the way, she was clean, well-equipped, and sailing smoothly.  Buggy didn’t know if he’d be able to say the same in a few hours, when all these men would be trying to squeeze onto the somewhat smaller Big Top.  Buggy rubbed a hand across his mouth to hide his involuntary grimace at the thought.  Maybe the island they were meeting up on had some industry he could put them to work at?  A farm would be fantastic, if he could get paid for their labor and get the produce at a discount as well… 

Buggy looked over the deck in search of one of Shanks’ senior officers.  He didn’t know most of them by name, but those cloaks and capes they wore were distinctive enough that he thought he should be able to identify them on sight, and surely if the one he found didn’t know anything about the island, they could point him to someone who did.  The navigator?  Roux, who seemed to know a little about everything?  Beckman, whose job it was to know something about everything?

And, think of the devil, one of the doors to the interior of the ship opened to reveal Beckman, speaking with a few of those cloaked men.  They each went their own way, and Beckman crossed to the railing, taking up a pose not dissimilar from Buggy’s a few levels above him.  That was a first mate for you, always keeping an eye on things, one way or another.

Buggy sent his feet down the stairs and the rest of him took the shorter path, swooping down to Beckman’s side like a giant white bat.  To his credit, Beckman didn’t react to this unusual approach. Instead, calm as anything, he said, “Whatever you said to those men, it seems to be doing the trick.  Thanks.”

Buggy waved the praise off.  “If they’re so eager to be under my command, they’ve got to start learning to behave themselves sooner or later.  Might as well be now.”  Leaning an elbow against the railing, Buggy looked Beckman over.  He sure did seem a lot more relaxed now than he’d been outside Shanks’ rooms.  Relaxed enough to share intel?  “Tell me something.”

Beckman glanced sideways at Buggy.  “Hm?”

“What do you know about this island where we’re meeting up with my crew?  Is it populated?”

“Ah, I don’t think so, no,” Beckman said, tilting his head back, recalling the facts.  “Snake picked a jungle island that’s a bit out of the way of normal trade routes.  There’s some ruins, but no signs of recent habitation.”

Buggy tried not to visibly wilt.  “Ah.”

Beckman’s eyes lingered on Buggy.  “We didn’t want to risk a naval presence on the island getting word out to the rest of the Marines.”

“No, no, it makes sense.”  Buggy sighed, shoving a hand under his hat to scrub at his hair.  “Just trying to figure out how the hell I’m gonna feed all these guys in that case.”  No way had anyone thought to tell Alvida that Buggy was bringing new guys with him, let alone a lot of new guys.  She’d have gotten the ship supplied with their normal numbers in mind.

Well, the new guys were a tough bunch, maybe they’d see hunting for their dinner as a fun challenge.  Assuming there was anything safe to hunt and eat on this island… Buggy dug his fingers into his scalp, biting back a frustrated groan.

Beckman laughed.  “Yeah, I don’t envy you that job. At least we were expecting to take on passengers.”  He whistled to get the attention of someone up in the crow’s nest and flashed a hand sign at them.  After a few exchanges, he stopped signing and rolled his eyes.  “Stubborn, overworking little—” He cut himself off and glanced at Buggy.  “Was that all you wanted from me?”  Buggy nodded.  “Then I’ll see you when Shanks finally gets up the nerve to talk to you… or when we land.  Whichever comes first.”  With that, he walked over to the mast, got the attention of a young man who’d been leaning against it, and grabbed onto a low-hanging rope.  The two of them pulled themselves up into the rigging—to harass whoever was up in the crow’s nest into taking a break, probably.

Buggy watched them climb for a minute, a frown crawling its way across his face.  When Shanks finally gets up the nerve to talk to you… so there was something Shanks was hiding that he didn’t think he should, huh?  Buggy had figured the feeling he was getting off Shanks was about one of those topics he’d had private conversations with Roger about way back when, not something that Shanks would consider any of Buggy’s business.  But apparently that wasn’t the case.

Buggy’s frown deepened.  He could come up with a list of topics Shanks wouldn’t want to broach but would still feel obligated to bring up, no problem.  But that list was short, and Buggy didn’t like the thought of discussing anything on it.

Unsettled, Buggy leaned back against the mast, arms crossed.

“Look out below!!!”

Buggy looked up and shrieked at the sight of a man falling head-first out of the crow’s nest.  He scattered—it wasn’t like his body would soften the blow enough that the guy would live—and then blinked, as a rope he hadn’t noticed went taut, and the falling slowed to a gentle, somehow mechanical motion.

“The hell is wrong with you?!” he demanded, floating up to be eye-level with the slowly descending man.  This was, if Buggy remembered correctly, Shanks’ sniper, Yasopp, of the infamous years-long tempting out to sea.  Someone with good aim, and a keen eye, but not particularly decisive—or, at least, he hadn’t been back then.  He was also apparently someone with a shitty sense of humor; he wasn’t answering Buggy’s question because he was too busy laughing and pointing at Buggy.

“Your face!  Oh, my stomach hurts,” he said, clutching at his waist.  “Oh man, that was almost worth getting kicked out of the nest.”  As they approached the ground, he shifted his weight so his feet would touch down first, and untangled himself from the rope with practiced ease.  “Phew.  Sorry, uh—Buggy, right?  Yeah, sorry about that.  The crew knows better than to stand so close to the mast when the watch changes, and I didn’t think to check before I jumped.”

“Jumping from the crow’s nest for fun.”  Buggy shook his head.  “And here I thought you people were almost respectable.”  Yasopp, the maniac, cackled.  Beckman, drifting down to the deck on his own rope mechanism, in a much more orderly fashion, chuckled a little.

“It’s possible we’ve been on… well, not our best behavior.  Let’s call it better behavior than usual, these last few days,” Beckman admitted.  “Except for Yasopp, who doesn’t know the meaning of the concept and so stays up in his nest.”

“You haven’t been on your best behavior, you’re as mean as ever,” Yasopp said, putting on an over-the-top pout.

Beckman rolled his eyes.  “Because I need to be, to get anything done around here,” he said.  “And you need a break.  Drink, talk to someone, tinker with one of your ridiculous trick bullets, I don’t care, just—let someone else keep an eye on things for a few hours, okay?”  He nudged Yasopp in the side with an elbow.  “Or are you gonna say you didn’t train your juniors well enough at their job?”

Yasopp crossed his arms, sulky.  “No,” he conceded.

“Good,” Beckman said.  Giving Buggy an apologetic grimace as he untied himself, he said, “I trust he’s apologized to you already?”  His tone suggested that if he hadn’t, Yasopp would soon regret it.

What a mother hen of a first mate, Buggy thought, fighting down a smile. “Yeah, yeah, it’s fine,” he said, shrugging off the incident like it hadn’t carved a decade off his lifespan.  “I should’ve known you people had to be at least a little crazy, since you run around with Shanks.”

A small smile crossed Beckman’s face, and Yasopp muffled a snort of laughter in a fist.

Someone called out in a panicky tone for Beckman from a far corner of the ship, and the smile fell off his face.  “If you’ll excuse me?”  Not waiting for a reply from either of them, Beckman walked off.

“So mean,” Yasopp said, fondness creeping into his voice.

“That’s first mates for you,” Buggy said, unable to keep a similar fondness out of his own voice.  Shanks had done a good job finding this guy.  When you grew up with the gold standard first mate (or, heh, the Silvers standard?), it was hard to find someone who could measure up.  “Keeping things in order when your captain’s lost his head.”

Yasopp chuckled.  “Ah, the boss isn’t that bad off.”  When Buggy gave him a skeptical look, he smirked.  “Lost his heart, maybe, but he knows where his head’s at.”

“I—uh.”  Flustered, Buggy cleared his throat.  He’d really just gone and said it.  “You’re a lot less subtle than your crewmates.”

Yasopp shrugged.  “I leave subtlety to subtle men.  I’m not built for it; I’m built for getting to the heart of the matter, and doing it fast.”  He extended two fingers towards Buggy, lifted his thumb into the air, and twitched his hand like it was a gun recoiling.  “We both know where things stand.  What’s the use in dancing around it?”

“Sure,” Buggy muttered, his thoughts going back to what Beckman had said.  What was it Shanks both didn’t want to tell him and needed to tell him?  What was there left unsaid, besides the sort of thing Buggy had already decided didn’t need saying?  He crossed his arms.  Damn it, he’d been trying to avoid thinking about this shit!

“Hey,” Yasopp said, snapping his fingers to draw Buggy’s attention.  “You work with bombs, right?  You make them yourself?”

Welcoming the change in topic, Buggy scoffed.  “Of course,” he said, “only an idiot trusts the kind of weapons manufacturers who are willing to sell to pirates to make explosives that are good, reliable, and cheap, and I have better things to spend my money on.”  He narrowed his eyes at Yasopp.  “Why?”

“Because Beck just gave me permission to tinker with my trick bullets, and if you make your own explosives you might be able to figure out what I’m doing wrong with this one.”  Digging around in one of his oversized ammunition pouches, Yasopp presented Buggy with an unusually lightweight cartridge.  “Here, what do you think?”

Buggy cracked the cartridge open, curious.  Inside was a pool of silvery-black gunpowder and a thin-walled hollow bullet, which proved to have some other kind of powder inside.  Buggy pinched that powder between two fingers, rubbing them together to feel the grit and then sniffing at the residue left behind.  He stared at his fingers, baffled, and smelled them again.  “What is that, aluminum and an ammonium salt?”  Yasopp nodded.  “Are you trying to make a cartridge that explodes in the barrel?”

Yasopp sighed, running a hand through his locs.  “What I want is a smoke bomb I can fire out of a gun.  What I’m getting is… that, more or less.”

“Yeah, of course you are, a big velocity change ignites this stuff easily.  With a different catalyst, though, or maybe a better sealed chamber…” Buggy trailed off, considering the bullet.  A miniature smoke bomb, huh?  Something that could stand up to the initial shock of gunfire, and turns to noise and powder on impact… “Do you have a chem lab around here somewhere?”

Yasopp grinned.

The two of them didn’t emerge from Yasopp’s workroom until the bell rang out announcing last call for lunch.  Buggy wasn’t sure he’d ever get the metallic burnt smell out of these clothes, but he didn’t care; this had been fun, the kind of idle experimenting with explosives that he hadn’t had time to do in years.  Buggy hadn’t realized how much of a man’s free time it ate up, captaining even a smallish crew, until he’d gotten a fraction of that time back.

“Too bad we didn’t figure out a solution for your smoke bullet problem,” he said, dusting the last of the gunpowder off his shirt sleeves.

“Eh, I’ve been working on this on and off for months, it wasn’t gonna be an easy fix,” Yasopp said, shrugging his star-spangled cloak back on.  “But it got both of us out of our heads for a few hours, so I’d hardly call it a waste.”

Buggy blinked at him, frozen with one arm in his jacket.  “Both of us?”

“You were fretting, I don’t know what about.  Shanks, at a guess.  And I’m… not good at letting other people take on my responsibilities.”  Yasopp grimaced.  “Beck doesn’t always have to toss me out of the nest, but…”

Buggy frowned, sliding the jacket up his other arm.  “I wasn’t fretting.”

Yasopp gave him an unimpressed look.  “Sure.  And what kind of concealer do you use to hide the frown lines you must have, if you make that face every hour of the day?”  When Buggy scowled at him, Yasopp said, “I’m not a subtle man, remember?  If you want somebody to pretend to believe your lies, you’re looking at the wrong guy.”

Buggy sighed.  As Yasopp locked the workroom up behind them, he admitted, “It… was good to get out of my head for a while.”  Yasopp gave him a squeeze on the shoulder, and they left it at that.

Lunch was a bit less exciting than the past few days had led Buggy to expect: the fried rice with pickled cabbage and ham that had been served with Shanks’ breakfast was the main dish on offer, with other repurposed leftovers making up the rest of the meal.  When Roux wasn’t looking, Buggy gave him a curious look.  The rest of the crew had been on their best behavior, according to Beckman… so, had Lucky Roux been showing off?  If he had, it had worked on Buggy; he still wanted to poach Roux for his own crew, even if this less impressive offering was his usual fare.

Eating his bowl of rice with a couple promising-looking toppings—all well-spiced and delicious, of course—Buggy made his way out onto the main deck.  A few Red-Haired and Whitebeard Pirates glanced Buggy’s way, but most of them had gotten used to Buggy over the last few days and returned to their meals without paying him any mind.  He peered down at the lower deck, crowded with men in worn prison uniforms standing in surprisingly well-organized clusters of twos and fours, finishing their lunch.

“Afternoon, men!” he called.

“Captain Buggy!” they cheered.

“Let’s see,” Buggy said, and on a whim set aside his bowl to chop off his feet and swoop down, close enough to excite his men but just out of reach.  “Aren’t you arranged all nice and orderly?  It looks like you did as I asked.”

“Of course!”

“We’d do anything you asked, Captain Buggy!”

Buggy grinned.  Music to his ears.  “Then I suppose I should reward you, shouldn’t I?”  A few excited sounds rose from the crowd as Buggy returned to his spot on the deck above them.  “Hm… I’ve told you a few stories of the old days with Captain Roger, and a few more adventures of the great Captain Buggy’s crew.  But there’s someone I’ve yet to introduce you to, a captain who’s been allied with me and mine these last few months.”  Someone who might need some convincing to cooperate with the sudden appearance of all these guys… and who was more eager for praise than even Buggy.  “Let me tell you how the strong, beautiful Iron Mace Alvida saved my life.”

A hush fell over the crowd.

“Yes, I know what you’re thinking: the great Captain Buggy, in need of rescue?!”  The wide-eyed stares Buggy received confirmed this.  And by the look of it, some of the men were mentally tacking on the phrase by a woman? to that question, as he’d suspected they would.  Yeah, best to nip that potential problem in the bud.  “Well, I’d been through a terrible trial in the days leading up to our first meeting.  Separated from my crew, from my body, alone on a half-wrecked ship, starving, a vicious sea monster rising out of the waves before me, his many-toothed maw dripping with drool, eager to eat me—when suddenly!  A great iron mace came down on his skull!”  Buggy slammed his lunch bowl against the railing, the crash of metal on wood drawing the eye of every man below.

Buggy grinned.  If they hadn’t been hooked before, they sure were now.

He fudged some of the details, of course—no need to reveal exactly who had put him through that terrible trial, or how his crew had behaved in his absence.  But the broad strokes were true enough, and the changes he made were in support of his reason for telling the story: to convince these guys to respect Alvida, to flatter her as they did him, to make this joining of forces go as smoothly as possible.  Sure, it didn’t put Buggy in the best light, at least not at first, but he didn’t want Alvida taking a perceived slight out on a man who might be able to stand up to her mace.  If revealing one of his weaknesses was how he avoided that disaster, so be it.

He was just reaching the ‘rescuing his crew from cannibals’ climax of the story when a cry rang out from above: “Land ho!”

Finally.  The relief that rushed through Buggy nearly made him cry.  After all the many hells he’d been through since being arrested… things could finally start getting back to normal.

“We’ll continue this story after we disembark,” Buggy announced, to a few disappointed groans from his men.  “Find your buddy if you lost track of him during lunch!  Make sure you both have everything you’re taking with you!  Stay out of the way of the Red-Haired Pirates while they’re get us to shore, but be ready to leave the second we’re docked!”

“Aye, Captain!”

But of course, it wasn’t quite that simple.

Buggy found Galdino sitting in the empty mess with Lucky Roux, making polite conversation over a pot of tea.  Though, with these two, it might not actually be the conversation it seemed to be—something about the island Roux sourced his tea from?  Apparently it was a distinctive blend, and hard to acquire.

“Did you need something, Buggy?” Galdino asked, an undertone of irritation to his voice.  Because of course Buggy needed something, why else did he ever seek Galdino out?

Well, if Galdino didn’t want to be used, he shouldn’t have made himself so useful.

“The dock’s gone,” Buggy said.  “Either rotted through or swept away in a storm.”

Galdino glanced up at him, and set down his teacup.  “Well, at least it’ll be a challenge.  Lucky Roux, it’s been a pleasure.”

“It’s sure been something, having you people aboard,” Roux said with a wide smile.  “Hopefully not for the last time.”

Buggy snorted.  “In your captain’s dreams.”

Galdino muffled a laugh in his fist; Roux didn’t bother concealing his amusement.  Buggy realized how his words had come off, scowled, and stormed out of the mess with a mutter of, “Come on, Galdino.”

The two of them joined Beckman and the Red-Haired Pirates’ navigator at the bow of the ship, and considered the space where a dock clearly used to be.  A ship this big, an island with such a sharp drop from shore to sea?  They wouldn’t be able to land without a dock. 

“Can you do it?” Beckman asked.

“I’ll need to begin from the shore,” Galdino said, thoughtful.  “If it isn’t well anchored from the start it’ll drift away.”

“That’s no problem.” Buggy chopped his feet off and leaned forward, letting Galdino sit cross-legged on his back.  He flew them to shore, where Galdino made some long wax spears that Buggy wedged into place.  When they were securely dug in, Galdino melted the tops of the spears and, starting from that spot, created more wax to mold into a floating dock.  Nothing that would be any good at anchoring a ship the size of the Red Force long-term, but they didn’t intend to be here any longer than necessary.  So long as it could hold firm while the men disembarked, that was all they needed.

While Galdino worked, Buggy hovered above the canopy, looking for any kind of promising location to settle his men.  He quickly spotted the ruins Beckman had mentioned—several of the old buildings were tall enough to be seen well above the treetops, the gray of the stone standing out against all the greenery of the jungle.  There was one with a large paved area around it, not far from the shore, which seemed promising.  Buggy took a moment to fix the spot in his memory, then went back to tell Galdino about it.

Galdino barely paid him any mind. He was focused on his work, and confident enough in it to stand on the dock as he was building it, a foot or two of wax all that separated him from the awful, helpless death that awaited any Devil Fruit user in the ocean.  It was bold of him; Buggy preferred a nice, reliable boat any day.

“Any messages to pass on to the men?” he asked, hovering at Galdino’s shoulder.

“They’ll need to be light on their feet, and should stick to the center of the dock,” Galdino said.  He was starting to sweat; extruding this much wax in one go must take a lot of effort.  “If their weight isn’t balanced right, one wrong move could capsize this whole thing.”

Buggy blanched.  Yeah, he could never.  “Noted,” he squeaked, and flew back to the Red Force to convey these instructions.

Despite Galdino’s warnings, the disembarkation went well.  Buggy watched with no small amount of pride as the buddy system worked beautifully, each pair of men walking down the gangplank, across the waxen dock, and onto the shore without any signs of a bottleneck developing.  Being listened to was nice—it was very nice—but being listened to, having your orders followed, and seeing them work exactly as you imagined, now that was heaven.  Buggy might not be the strongest pirate the world had ever seen, but damn it, he was good at this shit.

As the last dozen pairs prepared to leave the Red Force, Buggy felt a gentle weight press down on his foot.  He frowned, tried to remember where he’d left his feet, and only then noticed a presence on the main deck that made his hackles rise.

Shanks.

“Are you holding my feet hostage?”

“That depends,” Shanks said, giving Buggy an unreadable look.  “Are you leaving without saying goodbye?”

Oh, this guy.  On his own ship, surrounded on all sides by his most trusted officers, and still managing to look like some kind of miserable wet cat, terrified of being left alone.

“And how was I supposed to say goodbye to someone who’s been hiding from me?” Buggy asked, instead of the dozen meaner things he wanted to say.

Shanks glanced away, suddenly awkward, and Buggy took the opportunity to look him over.  The shower had done him good, gotten him clean of all that secondhand makeup—though it had not, Buggy noticed with a quiet little thrill, removed the bruises that had apparently been hiding underneath some of that makeup.  His hair looked nicer, almost healthy, even pinned back by the sunglasses Shanks had propped up high on his forehead.  “Are these the shame glasses I’ve heard so much about?”

Shanks’ hand rose to fiddle with the temple of the glasses.  “Ah, yeah.”

“I thought your crew was supposed to laugh at you while you were wearing them?”

“They’ve been laughing at me, all day,” Shanks said, tired.  “And they’ve been right to, given… everything.”

Well, that was ominous.

With a sigh, Shanks said, “There’s something I should have told you earlier, Buggy, but there never seemed to be a good time, and… I didn’t know how to say it.”  A sheepish smile pulling at the corner of his lip, he said, “I still don’t, to be honest,” and pulled the sunglasses down over his eyes.

It took Buggy a moment to put it together.  Shanks’ discomfort, the way the large mirrored lenses took up so much space on his face, the nervous twist of his lips… then Shanks ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead, and it clicked.  All the blood draining out of his face, Buggy caught Beckman’s eye; he nodded, ever so slightly.

(Fuck.)

Buggy got up in Shanks’ face, looking past his own wide-eyed reflection to confirm that spark of recognition.  Shanks leaned back, Buggy reconnected to his own feet, and at this angle… yeah, he knew that face.  He’d kissed it, once.

(Oh fuck, he’d pickpocketed that guy, too.)

Fighting down a hysterical burst of laughter, Buggy said, voice high-pitched from the strain, “Well, uh, thanks for the ride, Shanks!  I’d say I owe you one, but I’m pretty sure you still owe me another two or three dozen favors before we’re even.”  He backed up, hands brushing along the railing as he inched towards the stairs, and beyond them the gangplank, the dock, the island, freedom.

(Somewhere he could have a little breakdown about this revelation in private.)

“Buggy…” Shanks cautiously held out a hand.

Buggy pulled back out of reach.  “I’m not saying goodbye to you, Shanks!” he snapped.  Shanks faltered, his hurt visible even past those ridiculous sunglasses, and Buggy sighed.  Did he have to spell it out?  “Stupid.  I already told you.”

Confusion wasn’t a much better look on Shanks.  Well, either he’d figure out or he wouldn’t.

Buggy rolled his eyes, spun around, and ran off.  Over his shoulder, he promised, “Until next time, Red-Hair!”

[topaz-witch-tea]

absolutely loving the au, here to ask a question and to offer up my own ideas because i am brainrotting and adoring this

my question is, are you ok with people writimg their own fics of this au? credit of course will be given to you if permission to post is permitted on ao3, and it'll also be gifted, but i haven't written anything for hsr yet and i wanna get to practising the sillies

second, what ideas/petnames/doting names did jy, yx and df call yanqing when he was younger? and alternatively, if there's ever a time where yanqing is upset, would they call him that, even when hes a bit older, to comfort him, just an old habit they can't shake?

and, also, what similarities do yoy think he shares the most with each respective parent? yingxing and him definitely bond over swords,but what about the others?

i have plentyyy more ideas brewing in the ol noggin but i adore this AU, i think its wonderfully written and i cant wait to see what happens in elegy! have a good day!

Hello!!!!

Yes! Please feel free to write your own fics of this au, just remember to credit me and let me know because I would love to read it. 🥰 If you want any information on my AU that I have not posted about/published yet, let me know I will be more than happy to provide you with the info. Feel free to message me if you have any questions. 😁

The main petname that shows up in the fics is "Little Bird". All three of them call Yanqing this because when he was little, the sparrows and fiches would like to perch on his crib to look at him and Yanqing loved to copy them. He would flap his arms to mimic a bird flying whenever he saw one. They still call him that in private, though it gets less and less common as Yanqing gets older.

It does show up when they are comforting him, especially when he is upset about something concerning them. When he is upset, Yanqing likes to hide in dark places where other people can't reach him. He'll hide in the corner of his bed with the drapes pulled down or in his closet behind his clothes. His dads will often call him "little bird" to coax him out to get them to talk to him.

You are correct, Yanqing shares his interest in swords with Yingxing. For Dan Feng, it's the arts, primarily music. The Vidyadharas are known for their music and profoundly sad ballads. Music has always had its place in traditional education, particularly those of wealth and nobility, so I see Dan Feng knowing music and incorporating music into Yanqing's education. I can see Dan Feng giving Yanqing his jade dizi as a present.

For Jing Yuan, I don't see it as any tangible like swords or instruments but rather politics. Even though he is young, Jing Yuan will also give him exercises. "Who is talking?" "Who is listening?" "Who is at this event and who is not?" "If this were to happen, who would benefit and who would lose?" Yanqing's birth has always been a focus of gossip and his every movement is judged due to his position and lineage. So Jing Yuan considers it important he knows how to defend himself in these situations. If the three of them were to pass, Yanqing would still inherit titles and fortune and Jing Yuan could not bear it if someone took advantage of his son after he passed.

AWWW!!! THANK YOU!!! I love answering asks so please feel free to send more. I am also excited for the next chapter. I want the angst to be perfect.

[stellamancer]

niku (for the ask game) i wish you’d write a fic where reader is in grad school with gooj……..maybe a lil academic rivals to lovers….

gRAD SCHOOL WITH GOOJ.... and you can't just say MAYBE A LITTLE academic rivals to lovers to me. i cannot have just a little it MUST BE A BUFFET. 

UH ANYWAY. so actually, as someone who only did their undergrad, i had to ask the grad student i do know about the difference. and they actually ended up feeding me ideas. i can't take credit for their brilliance though.

> if theyre academic rivals to lovers then maybe theyre sharing an elective class that has a group project and theyre in diff groups

and also:

> well my apartment building has laundry in it > but imagine reader hauling their laundry to a laundromat n running into gojo > id shit > gojo sees u hauling ur laundry and follows u inside to bug u abt ur group project (separate groups btw) and he just sits there while u shove everything into the machine hoping he doesnt see ur underwear

i think being in separate groups for a group project would be fun. so uh, full disclosure i think i went kind of off the rails and i DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT IS GOING ON WITH THIS ANY MORE. but uh. it got terribly self indulgent is and is just short of 5k which is is insane. so uh. yeah hahahaaHAHAHAHA. <- laughing to hide my tears.

anyway, as for my own idea. so uh, please ignore me for laying down some groundwork HAHAHA. so, reader and gojo ended up attending the same university for undergrad. it's a very prestigious school with a famously low acceptance rate (for reference, gojo was recommended for admittance and took the entrance exam for the funsies).

reader, who was used to being the top student, is somewhat surprised that, upon the results of their first major exam being posted, they are not first but SECOND. briefly, and I do mean briefly, they're kind of like ‘well this is a really prestigious school ofc there would be insanely smart people here that could best me’ but then they find out that the person in the top spot is satoru gojo.

and said gojo is known for being a filthy rich, insufferable slacker and because of that reader has no respect for him and gets MAD. especially since they've also heard the rumor that he's attending school for shits and giggles. so they study extra hard to try and knock him from the top spot only to wind up in second place AGAIN and the cycle continues.

gojo, on the other hand, doesn't really notice reader until a little later. he knows their name (he knows everyone's names) and that they're second place but he doesn't really pay them mind until the professor for their class has a ta conduct a free study period because they have a personal emergency to attend to. gojo gets very excited over this because it's finally his time to really shine as the top student in the class. he expects his classmates to flock to him for help with class material, and while a couple students do ask him for help, those who don't form groups of their own gather around reader. it doesn't bother him at first and he attempts to teach the students who have asked him for help but they don't seem to get it. which frustrates him a little. how can they not understand? Eventually some of them thank him for his attempt but go to ask reader and gojo is a little huffy about it. 

actually he's pretty huffy about it. 

after class, he approaches reader who is a bit 😑😑😑 at him because it's gojo, and he. Well. 

“must have been pretty nice having everyone ask for your help,” gojo remarks, derisive. “even though, i’m top of the class.” you scowl, annoyed. “well, maybe more people would have asked you if you were better at explaining things.” a couple of your classmates had mentioned asking gojo first, but couldn't make heads or tails of what he was saying. when you asked them to explain, you were able to understand, but only because you could reverse engineer his methods.  gojo shrugs, “not my fault they couldn't understand.” your jaw ticks. what is he on? “they asked you to help them, but you couldn't; of course it's your fault.”  “maybe they should have tried harder!” “maybe you should have tried a different teaching method!” you hiss before stomping off. 

and that's honestly the first time anyone has really argued with gojo in…. Well not a while, but the only one who ever challenges him like that is suguru. and he actually approaches suguru about the whole thing later and suguru basically agrees with what reader was saying which, gojo ultimately concedes to. 

so, he, begrudgingly, takes a different approach when the next class study session happens and is met with better results. gojo tries to gloat about it to reader but all he gets is a flat “good for you” and it upsets him because he worked hard, you know, he adjusted for everyone instead of everyone adjusting to him (like he's used to because he's a spoiled brat) and while it felt super good that so many of his classmates actually understood what he was saying this time he wanted reader to acknowledge him the most. 

again, he whines to suguru, who actually finds this all very funny, and suguru gives him a pat on the back too, but at this point gojo has become determined to have reader approve of him. 

which means gojo goes out of his way to interact with reader more but, is met with annoyance or hostility and normal people would just back off but not gojo. like he'll congratulate reader on their high score on the exam and reader will tell him to shove it and initially it kind of makes him mad (especially since reader is very cordial with literally everyone else) but eventually he starts to find it kind of fun to get a rise out of reader the way he does. (I think initially he thought the class was kind of boring but then he gets to look forward to antagonizing reader wtf is his problem). 

he does not get the approval he wants though, so at some point, he decides to double major— with one of his majors being the same as reader’s. this only bothers them more since now they see him MORE and he seems to handle the double major stuff flawlessly. 

anyway, reader doesn't manage to get better grades than gojo in any class by the end of their undergrad and gojo doesn't get the approval from them he craves. 

(I think there's an incident where one of them is accused by a jealous classmate of some form of academic dishonesty and the other defends them but I haven't decided on who. whoever it is though, probably starts to develop Feelings)

graduation comes and reader thinks that they are finally free of gojo, thinking he will go into the work force so he can ultimately take over the family company, bUT HE DOESN'T HE GOES TO GRAD SCHOOL. and reader is just appalled. like what the actual fuck. and so once again they have classes together but the only upside is that it's less often (since me grad school friend said that classes are more infrequent).

I like the separate group project idea so we are going with that. reader is fine with being a separate group from gojo until he’s all smiley at them and is like ‘looks like we’re competing again and reader is just like ‘fuck my stupid baka life.’

actually I feel like I put too much development thought into undergrad oh well. 

so since there is more free time in grad school so I'm thinking reader gets a job. maybe working as wait staff at a restaurant…. a fancy one. and gojo finds out when he goes there for a gojo family business dinner thing. reader has to keep a straight face and ignore gojo’s smarmy expression and how hot he looks in a suit (the suit is fan service for me).

during part of the dinner gojo excuses himself to go to the bathroom and happens to see reader joking around with a coworker. he's never seen reader with that expression before and gets a little annoyed/jealous (the jealousy is also fan service for me). 

gojo brings up reader's job next time they see each other for class saying he didn't know and reader's just like ‘why would I tell you?’ which makes gojo realize despite being academic rivals for years he doesn't actually know much about them. 

I think at some point they have a convo where reader is just like ‘why are you even going to grad school when you don't need to’ and gojo says that he doesn't have a lot of time left to do what he wants before having to fulfill his duties as the gojo family heir and he's the going to grad school because he wants to (keep seeing reader). reader actually feels bad for him when they realize the magnitude of the expectations placed on him and in this convo he mentions that competing with reader in school has made his college life fun. I think at this point gojo realizes he won't get to really see reader after grad school is over and that makes him sad. 

Mmmm. Maybe. They make a bet at this point gojo bets that if reader's group does better than gojo’s on the project he'll grant them any one desire they want and while reader is like ????? at first he explains that because of who he is he can do anything with his money and/or influence but if his group does better then reader has to do anything he wants and they’re like okay yeah sure whatever rich boy.

so reader does their best to encourage their group mates to well on this group project (which i have decided has a presentation at the end of the semester… it is a nice long semester long project). i’d say most of them at know of reader and gojo’s rivalry (or at least about gojo) and they’re pretty amenable to trying to show him up. 

over the semester stuff happens, you know extra relationship building stuff, with gojo constantly asking about the project. he'll occasionally annoy reader at work (and maybe try to shoo away the coworker he thinks is interested in reader), bug them at the library, drag them to dinner after class and. idk. despite gojo becoming less of a rival and more of an annoyance, reader starts to get endeared to him.

just as finals week, when they have to do their presentation, is approaching, reader is at the library and their laptop just. stops working. and they start to freak out because even though a lot of stuff for the project is saved to a cloud storage, they still have some things saved locally. gojo happens in as they're having a meltdown and calms them down and tries to assess what happened to the laptop. and like. 

you feel like you can't breathe. the realization that you've lost hours upon hours of work weighs down on your chest. can you possibly do it all again with what time you have left before the presentation? 

no. 

it's not a question of whether you can or can't: you have to, if not for you, then everyone else in your group. they're depending on you; you can't let them down.

“hey.”

if you call out for your next couple of shifts and pull a couple all nighters, you might be able to redo everything.

“hey.”

it won't be pleasant, but you have to do what you have to do. you don't want everyone to worry, but you should at least let them know what's going on. the thought of messaging the group chat, though, fills you with dread. 

someone flicks your forehead and you let out small cry. “what the hell!”

gojo looks petulant as ever and you remember you have to deal with him too. could this get any worse? his finger presses against your forehead as he asks, “tell me what happened.”

“i told you. it stopped working.”

“be more specific.” 

you groan, “just…. the screen went black and I pressed the power button but it wouldn't turn back on but it sounds like it's on.” 

gojo hums and leans down over the table, pressing his ear to the laptop. he hums again and nods to himself. “i think I know what's going on.” 

“are you the laptop whisperer or something?” you ask flatly. 

“something like that,” he answers nonchalantly, flipping the lid closed and pulling out his phone. he starts typing on it one handed. “but I think most people call it being computer savvy.”

“are you saying you can fix it?”

he shoots you a cocky grin. “who do you think you're talking to?”

you ignore him. “well?”

he huffs. “i can't believe you're doubting me here.”

“gojo…”

“just trust me, everything will be fine!” he says and starts to pack up your laptop. you protest but he doesn't listen. “but we need to have the operation at my place.” 

you scowl. “gojo, i’m not—”

“you don't have to come if you mind leaving your laptop in my care,” he shoots you a saccharine sweet smile and your frown deepens. he knows that you won't just let him take your laptop with him. crafty bastard. 

“ugh, fine,” you relent. 

gojo snickers in satisfaction and starts to call someone as you gather the rest of your things. from what you can hear, it sounds like he's calling his driver. 

ten minutes later, gojo is ushering you into the sleek black car that he gets driven around in. you expect gojo to talk your ear off during the ride to his place, but he's oddly quiet and glued to his phone. you're curious, but you decide it's better to not ask. 

soon enough you're both dropped off at one of the tallest high rise apartments you've seen in your life. gojo casually taps his phone to a panel by the door and walks in with you scampering after.

you want to be surprised when you both ride the elevator to the top floor, but admittedly you're not. of course gojo has a penthouse apartment, why wouldn't he? not only that but it's wildly high tech— you can only imagine how much it must have cost… 

“you hungry?” gojo asks as you both enter his spacious living room area. “i can order something; anything you want— my treat.” 

the offer startles you, but reflexively you shake your head. “no, i’m fine. i—”

“sushi, then,” he decides with a nod. 

“wait, no, i—” you start to protest, but gojo is already fiddling with his phone. “gojo, really, it's fine, i’m not hungry.” 

“oh too late, i already ordered.”

you sigh as he flashes you a conspiratory grin. well, you suppose it wouldn't hurt to have some when it arrives. free dinner, maybe, you guess. “okay so, how do you intend to fix my laptop?” 

gojo tuts at you and wags his finger. “all will be revealed in good time.”

“tell me or i’m leaving,” you hiss, glaring. you don't have the time to humor him if it turns out he's just been fucking around this whole time. 

gojo pouts. “you're no fun.” 

“i can't fuck up this project; not with my group mates depending on me.” 

you don't mention the bet. honestly, at this point you don't care if you lose as long as you can salvage the project enough to make sure your group gets a decent grade. 

he sighs. “I know, I know.” 

“so tell me, what are you going to do.” 

gojo leans against the wall. “just a simple extraction. seems like the motherboard died, but the data on your hard drive should still be intact, so we're just going to extract it.”

“you can do that?”

“wouldn’t suggest it if I couldn't,” he says with a shrug. “just waiting for something i need to do it but it should arrive soon enough.” 

you stare at him, unsure of what to say. it's awfully nice of him to help you. especially when he could have just walked away, left you there with your broken computer and despair, and yet… “thank you gojo, really.”

for once in his life, gojo looks absolutely speechless, widened eyes peering over the top of his sunglasses. you blink. is it just you or do you see the faintest shade of pink dusting over the tips of his ears?

“well, while we wait, why don’t i give you the grand tour?” he asks and his voice is unnaturally loud, moreso than usual. 

“i don’t need a tour.”

“come on,” he insists, moving over toward you and circling around to grab you behind by the shoulders. “it’ll be fun! i never get to show off my place!” 

before you can protest, gojo starts propelling you around his penthouse. his voice is filled with a childlike excitement as he shows you every nook and cranny of the place. it’s sleek, modern, and ridiculously clean, just like how you would expect the home of any rich heir to a corporate conglomerate to look. however, as you move to room to room, you see little peeks of gojo’s personality shining through.

like the display of pictures next to his computer setup (three screens is kind of overkill in your opinion though).

the legitimately impressive sunglasses collection he has in his bedroom (you had always suspected he had something like this). 

the almost terrifying array of candy and sweets he has lining the cabinets of his kitchen. 

while he's rifling through a box of imported american snack cakes to show you, you notice a cup of dry erase markers next to the fridge which has a board affixed to it. the board is devoid of any writing or marks and you can't help but wonder if gojo has ever used it.

he wouldn't mind if you scribbled something on it real quick, would he?

“whatcha doin’?” he asks as you grab a black marker from the cup.

“defacing your personal property.”

“huh?!” he exclaims as you pop off the cap. “hey, wait a sec—”

you do not. before he can try to stop you, you start to doodle a cartoonish rendition of him. large round glasses, a stupid big grin and… well, you try to recreate his hair but it looks more like a soggy sea star with too many arms.

“what the hell is that?” he asks. “is that supposed to be me?”

“obviously.” 

he clicks his tongue. “i'm way more handsome.”

you roll your eyes. “are you?”

gojo hmphs and steps over toward you, grabbing a blue marker from the cup. “of course i am.” 

you roll your eyes as he starts his own drawing next to yours. at first you think he's just going to show you up with a better rendition of himself, but you quickly realize that it's not him he's drawing.

it's you. 

gojo is a much better artist than you are (it probably helps that he's not trying to scribble it really quickly like you are) and his doodle of you looks much better than your drawing of him. 

“so?” he asks when he's done. “what do you think?”

if you're being honest, it's actually really cute. embarrassingly cute. “i… i think you’re just trying to show off.”

“...well, i am quite skilled in more than just academics, you know,” he boasts earning him another eye roll. “it's okay if you don't want to say it looks good, we both know the truth.”

“...shut up.” 

he snickers. “if you're done drawing all over my fridge, then there's one more stop on satoru gojo’s grand house tour!” 

you tilt your head and he motions for you to follow him. he brings you to what you assume must be a big window with the curtain drawn, but with the press of a button the curtains slide back to reveal the balcony. gojo slides the door open and gestures for you to go outside first.

the air outside is a little chilly but it's not too bad. there's some furniture set up for lounging, but otherwise the balcony is rather bare save for…

“it's beautiful…” you murmur as you stare at the view of the tokyo skyline, the lights of the city sparkling brightly against the darkened sky. 

“right?” gojo chuckles and there is something about it that makes you turn back to look at him.

he's staring right at you. 

the soft smile gracing his features makes your mouth feel very, very dry for some reason and despite the fact that you desperately want to look away, you can't bring yourself to. the air between you both is an odd sort of quiet that has you feeling all sorts of nervous and you try to think of something to say to feel that almost awkward void.

luckily for you, the doorbell rings just in time to save you. 

gojo’s head whips around suddenly and you think you see the ghost of a frown before he scampers toward the front door. you trail after, watching as he throws it open to reveal a handsome, but tired looking young man. you recognize him from some of the pictures gojo had by his desk; they must be friends. 

“satoru, isn't there someone who you personally pay to run your errands?” the other guy asks as he enters and you notice he's carrying a bunch of bags. “why ask me?” 

gojo tilts his head innocently. “why not?”

his friend sighs. 

“sooo, did you get it?” gojo asks as his friend hefts the bags onto the counter. 

the other guy looks at gojo like he's an idiot. “of course i did.”

gojo beams widely. “knew i could count on you suguru!”

said suguru rolls his eyes again before turning his attention to you. there's a curious spark in his eyes as he offers you a pleasant smile “i don't believe we’ve met before…”

“i’m gojo’s classmate,” you say before giving him your name. 

“ah yes, satoru speaks of you often,” he remarks. “i'm suguru geto, it's a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“um, same to you, i guess.” you're not quite sure what to do with the information that gojo's been talking about you to other people. you can't imagine he's said anything good.

so after reader and suguru introduce themselves to one another they either have a short convo where suguru roasts gojo (as is his right) or gojo interrupts before he can and they eat the sushi that gojo made suguru pick up (the sushi place is actually a small little shop, not anywhere really fancy, which reader notices immediately— maybe it’s somewhere gojo dragged reader to previously, but he’s a regular so they gave him extras lmao). 

gojo doesn’t actually eat though, because he’s too busy extracting reader’s hard drive from their laptop and when reader mentions he’s not eating, gojo tells reader they can hand feed them. reader refuses. lmaooo. it doesn’t take super long for gojo to complete the surgery and when he’s done he drags reader to his massive computer set up and plugs the hard drive (which has been converted into an external hard drive and it works!! and—

you hold your breath as gojo mouses over to the file folders to open the hard drive. as he does, some measure of relief eases into you as you see the familiar names of your folders and documents. 

but you can't breathe easy just yet. "which one is it?" gojo asks. "this one?" he hovers over a file that has the class name along with the words 'group project.' you nod and he opens it.  ordinarily, you'd be a little defensive about letting gojo see your project, but given the circumstances, you don't think you can afford to be. he scrolls down to the bottom and you can tell that the file isn't exactly up to date. it's missing about a page's worth of information you'd typed up.  but that's probably about fifteen minutes of work at most, much better than what you'd thought you'd lost.  the relief consumes you completely and before you can even really realize what you're doing, you're throwing your arms around gojo's shoulders wrapping him into hug. "oh thank god..." you murmur into the fabric of his shirt.   "...didn't think you thought that highly of me," he murmurs with a chuckle. immediately, you jump back. embarrassed, you clear your throat. "i don't, but you can have a pass this time around." "no, no i think you should keep showering me with praise." you roll your eyes and gojo rises from his chair, stretching. then he turns to you, with a familiar grin that makes your stomach do a flip. you don't think you're going to like what he has to say next. "so, what now?" you blink. oh maybe that wasn't so bad. "your laptop's shot, y'know." right. you grimace. you still have to finish your project. and you need a computer to do that. unfortunately, you don't own a desktop and you don't exactly have the cash to drop on a new laptop. "um, well..." you could use the computers at the school library, but it's way too late to go there now. "if you ask nicely, i'll lend you one of my laptops." "no thanks," you answer automatically. 'one of his laptops?' must be nice being rich. why would he need more than one anyway? "...i can just go to a net cafe." "a net cafe?" gojo exclaims in disbelief. "yeah, they're open all night and if i need to sleep there i can." he grimaces. "no, absolutely not." "it's not your choice," you say flatly. "i mean, wouldn't it be easier... and cheaper to just take one of my laptops?" he's got a point, but. "it's fine, you've helped me enough. i'd feel bad if something happened to one of your laptops." you doubt your luck is that bad. it's not like gojo couldn't replace it in a blink in an eye, but still. "then i can just give it to you, problem solved.' you almost choke. "absolutely not!" 

after some back and forth, gojo (with suguru’s help) convinces reader to not go to the net cafe, but reader refuses to take home one of gojo’s laptops sO THEY END UP sitting at the coffee table in his living room to work on their project. to reader’s surprise, he actually lets them work in peace (instead he annoys suguru). though at some point reader dozes off and when they wake up… they are in gojo’s bed. they freak out but it’s only them in the bed and when they leave the bedroom they find gojo snoring on the couch. Suguru, who also stayed the night, and is awake making coffee tells them that gojo carried to them to the bed and decided to sleep on the couch (suguru also slept on the couch it’s a big couch). he makes some kinda cryptic comment before he leaves and reader is just like ????? but shrugs it off as gojo’s bestie also being a weirdo and they try to thank gojo by making him breakfast but the freak doesn’t actually have anything to make breakfast with it so they just work on their project til he wakes up. 

when he does wake up reader does mention wanting to thank him by making him breakfast and he gets stupid excited and tries to drag reader off to the store to get stuff but reader is in the middle of some project stuff and, without thinking tells him to take an iou. and he gets weirdly serious about it, asking if they’ll really do it later and, reader’s like ‘um yes? why are you getting weird about this?’ and he just gives some non answer and doesn’t say THAT HE WANTS READER TO MAKE HIM BREAKFAST because like atp he is very down bad about reader (he and suguru actually were talking about this when reader was working on the project the night before). 

anyway, project presentation time and reader is a bit nervous and so is the rest of the group, but reader is confident that they will do well. and everyone in the group is like yeah, and then uh, gojo’s group waltzes in, oozing confidence and gojo is fucking dressed to the nines, in a suit and tie and his hair styled and reader’s like ‘fuck he’s hot wait what.’ and he comes over and and in his attempt at a rizzed up moment wishes reader’s group luck. one of the girls in reader’s group makes a super funny comment and reader is like ‘shut up.’

both groups do well and after the presentations are done, gojo drags his group and reader’s group to yakiniku or something that’s on him and everyone goes and. everyone but gojo and reader get drunk and gojo and they talk about the project and they both concede that the other did good and they actually aren’t sure who won. 

turns out they both scored the same lmao. so no one wins. reader takes it as a loss but gojo is pretty pleased and suggests that since it was a tie he’ll do something that reader wants if reader is willing to do something he wants and reader is just like ‘ugh fine whatever.’ so gojo asks what they want first and reader’s just like ‘i don’t really want anything i just wanted to beat you once.’ and gojo’s like ‘oh well… i’ll take an iou on a favor then’ and reader’s like ‘okay fine so what do you want?’

"well," gojo drawls, thoughtfully. "i gave it a lot of thought and at first i was thinking i'd ask for us to call it a truce and just be friends. but that's kinda boring, don't you think?" boring isn't quite how you'd put it.  "so i was thinking that instead, you could go on a date with me instead," he proclaims with a big grin. "that's fair don't you think?"

your eyes nearly pop out of your head. a date? he can't be serious.

"i'd pay for everything still, of course, can't risk the date going badly, you know." you scowl. "are you saying that i'd screw up a date just because i can't afford to go whatever fancy restaurants a rich guy like you is accustomed to?" he shoots you a mischevious grin. "well, no i didn't quite say that... but if you'd like to prove me wrong..." "fine!" you hiss. "i'll show you! it'd be the best date you've ever been on!" his smile eases into something, a little more gentle, a little more fond. "i'd love to see you try." 

(spoiler alert: he didn't want the date to go badly because he wants to actually date you but you'll find that out soon enough lmao).

[murdermepeacefully]

Brahms Heelshire Headcanons

Honestly I'm not sure why it took me so long to do Brahms, given I've been writing him since mid 2022. But I've been really vibing Slasher Headcanon posts lately, and today, it's his turn!

As always, these are of course my own personal opinion, but feel free to reblog, add onto them, ask questions about them, or add them to the ones you accept yourself! I absolutely love hearing from others on their thoughts.

.♡♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡♡.

Headcanons from the Movie:

The Greta doll [Or the Nanny doll, for fics or content where the nanny is an OC or the reader] was never intended as anything dark/kinky/etc. It was simply Brahms mirroring how he'd seen affection shown towards him. I went into this in more detail on this post, if you're interested.

While he doesn't have the ability/time to do things like take care of his hair or shave, he does shower when the nanny is outside doing the rat traps.

When he can risk it, he'll sneak his clothes in with the laundry, but that became more difficult once his parents left. He's sometimes able to manage it by putting a few things in with sheets/blankets, but more often than not he'll simply use the clothes his dad left behind when he needs something clean to wear.

Def a clingy boy. Likes being able to have some form of physical contact with his partner, or at least be able to see/hear them if he can't do that.

Sometimes doesn't understand things that one would expect an adult to know, simply because his parents didn't teach him. The best way to address moments like this is to correct any mistakes gently, and teach him what he needs to know. [This does not mean to treat him like a child, just be patient and don't use a judgmental tone.

Occasionally has trouble processing emotions, especially negative ones, due to his father having a 'men don't cry' mindset.

Headcanons from Fanfic or Fandom Interactions:

Once he's ready to do so, he's okay with being seen without his mask. Respecting the boundary of letting him decide when that happens is a great way to show you care/trust/love him.

Definitely nervous about leaving the property, but he can manage if he's not alone at first. Once he's been out with someone he trusts enough to adjust to things like the crowds, levels of noise, and the environments, he's ok with splitting up for short periods of time.

When he goes out, he wears a cloth mask to cover the lower half of his face, so that the scarring will draw less attention.

Random Headcanons:

He's 100% the big spoon, regardless of a partner's size. While he does enjoy being held, he prefers to do so when he's holding his partner at the same time.

Really loves having his hair played with, especially if combined with kisses or cuddles.

Dog person [Cats are too aloof, and he enjoys the energy dogs can have. They're also a good way to get him going outside in the fresh air again]

18+ Headcanons🌶️🔞:

Spicy Headcanons:

This man does not know his own strength, so do not be surprised at all if you have bruises in the shape of his hands.

Definitely a switch, because he can enjoy both being the one in control and the one being controlled.

Age Regression Headcanons: NOTE: I am not intending to say that age regression on it's own is spicy or kink. However, I feel it best to keep it under the 18+ cut.

One of his favorite modern children's shows is Bluey. This is partially due to the characters being dogs, partially because of the parenting dynamics shown, and partially because there are heavier/more adult topics addressed in a way that's easy to process/understand.

To add onto the above, if a nanny/partner sees him upset and prompts 'Checklist', he will recite off Chilli's checklist from the episode The Show, while allowing himself to do the items on it. It started as a way to help him address his emotions in a healthy way, but soon became something that helps both him and his nanny/partner, as he can do the same thing with them.

The checklist is as follows: ✓ Have a Cry ✓ Pick Myself Off ✓ Dust Myself Off ✓And keep going.

Likes doing coloring pages or other simple crafts, and will often proudly present his partner with the end result.

Loves it when they put it on the fridge where it can be on display.

They turn his childhood room into a 'Littlespace' room for him to go to whenever he like. This means painting the walls a soft, comforting color, putting soft rugs on the floor, adding prism window clings to the window to cast rainbows all about the room, a permanent pillow fort, and a TV with a DVD player and VHS player on a wheeled table that can be moved anywhere in the room, with a bookshelf full of movies from their childhood, as well as more modern ones.

One of their shared favorites is Quest For Camelot.