#but it’s the kind of thing where every once in awhile I know I need to push myself

[sassmill]

In Act 2 of Lempicka when Tamara and Rafaela enter Le Monocle for the first time they look around at all the women together and Rafaela says “a room full of nothing but US” and Tamara says “let’s never leave” and guys I just went to a lesbian bar for the first time (okay it’s actually a deli but they turn it into a lesbian bar at night) and GUYS? That is the safest I have ever felt out drinking and dancing and I felt so natural and I was surrounded by other queer women and that’s. That’s the first actual queer space I’ve been to in YEARS and especially post-pandemic. And I’m feeling such an overwhelming mix of emotions right now because I didn’t realize how isolated I felt from the queer community in my day to day life (ie not online). I just. God.

Dedicated queer spaces are so important. Lesbian bars are so important. This is the only one I’ve been to but I’m VERY aware that these days there are fewer and fewer of them but I just. I didn’t know how badly this kind of place and experience and connection to community was missing from my life until I suddenly had it tonight.

[maddisandy]

everyone has some pretty reasonable dynamics and then there's soleil and gale

[justice-artblog]

Had a vivid thought

Prior to his current friends, Saiki's room is painstakingly bare. No pictures, Books of the most normal things including obscure stories, his bed is only made for comfort but no fun. His TV is standard, his desk having no noticeable scratches or morks or doodles.

And the first time any of his friends head up to his room, it's clocked in how bare bones everything is. As if the Saiki was ready to drop and move at a moments notice sort of deal.

And of course they go to remedy that.

Kaidou brings in old games for Saiki to play, lending him his consol time to time. It's also a perfect excuse to join him to play games. Saiki seems to know everything before even playing, but it's about the fun more than the story!

Nendou brings different books and manga's to Saiki's home, replacing some of the math and history books with books about random animal facts, one scary book, and a particularly raunchy one that Saiki immediately throws back in his bag.

Kuboyasu coming in with Plushies galore cause he has ZERO idea what to get his homie. But normies like these soft plushies, so clearly Saiki would adore them! Except he gets the weirdest ones, little guys that are very creepy but Kusuo has stashed up on the corner of his bed.

And slowly his room is filled with life that was sorely missing.

Teruhashi stashes cuter plushies alongside Kuboyasu, in order to not overwhelm Saiki with a lot, they have agreed to limit the amount they get and the size. They both pitch in to get a giant sitting pkushie on the floor that you could flop over

Chiyo and Mera tag team in pictures, decorating the frames and taking random pics of Siaki or their friends to hang up on the wall or placs on his desk. They get a pin board to pin up the photos.

Toritsuka absolutely hides magazines under Saiki's bed. The first time Saiki finds em he really wants to murder Reita, but it's actually one of the sweets magazines and none of his horndog ways. So he lets him live... For now.

Aiura stashes beads and Kandi everywhere, she has absolutely bedazzled Kusuo's lamp.

Akechi slips in movies of all kinds, detective ones where Kusuo needs to pay attention and purposefully thinking up of Random Babble so he doesnt accidentally spoil the psychic.

Saiko goes above and beyond and buys Siaki a new bed. He does check in with the other Plebians to make sure it... Ya know... Fits. It's so comfy and the new comforters are still plain in design

He does also buy a little cat house for Amp outdoors cause they all know that the cat is something Saiki secretely adores even if he doesnt outwardly show it.

Yuuta probably leaves Cyborg Cider man action figures scattered around the room every once in awhile, And Saiki has to meticulously clean them and display them so that Yuuta doesnt forget about them next times he's over.

Like i just want one moment where Saiki is there, laying down in bed, playing on the borrowed Switch with a plushie behind his head instead of a pillow and just the the realization that his room is not a room anymore. It's his room.

[paymechildsupport]

Teacher!Ryomen Sukuna x Sorcerer!Reader // Teacher!Sukuna HC's <3

(THIS IS NOT STUDENT X TEACHER, READER IS NOT A STUDENT!)

Personally, I think it’s an actual crime there isn’t more teacher!sukuna content out there. I’ve only ever seen one fan art of it, and ever since I’ve been scrounging around on my hands and knees to find more

So m’ gonna just do it myself 🙏 

-!! [AFAB + AMAB] READER (HC’s involving reader’s bodily autonomy have both a female and male vers. → brief smut drabble at the end)    [everyone's in on this one👏]

-!! Reader is a rather powerful sorcerer 

-!! CW: Slight possessiveness (mainly for the short smut at the end → overstimulation, dacryphilia, slight size kink(?), mention of double cocks for og form Sukuna)

-!! Veeeery slight nod to manga spoiler if you squint. If you don’t know it 99% certain you won’t pick up on it

-!! Sukuna being a bit of a softy for his SO

3k+ words

————

————

Awhile (around a good few centuries) ago, Ryomen Sukuna came to the conclusion that no, this was in fact not the way he wanted to live his life. He decided to put everything behind him; the bloodshed, the death, the massacres, and cannibalisms— (okay maybe that stayed the same)— all the things that essentially made his staple as the King of Curses. He’s a changed curse, he swears it. Honestly? Human food? Not that bad. Kinda worth changing his world view for 

With a changed work ethic, and a changed heart, Ryomen Sukuna made the conscious decision to become a teacher, — specifically a teacher in sorcery

—————-

Ryomen Sukuna works at Jujutsu Tech,-- the infamous King of Curses, who predominantly spends most of his days helping ungrateful brats obtain the necessary skills to kill his kind

→”No, you thick-skinned brat, you’re doing it all wrong!”

    “I’m sorry, Sukuna-sensei! I’m trying,--.. I really am! Could you maybe go over it one more time–”

             “No! You’re going to die all alone as your friends are tortured mercilessly!”

“How could you say that…” 🥺 

Following the fateful passing of Yuji Itadori’s grandpa, the poor kid awakened as a sorcerer with a rather nasty supply of cursed energy; a complete abnormality with an aura suspiciously like that of a certain Ryomen Sukuna… 

→ “The little brat is not living with me” 

“Awh, c’mon Sukuna-!! The kid’s a ticking time bomb to disaster, he needs help controlling his cursed energy, and who better to help than the amazing King of Curses himself!” 

“Shut up, Satoru Gojo.” 

“Ohoho~... looks like someone isn’t happy to become a single mother~~” 

“What-!? Single moth– fool, you yourself are a single mother” 

“...oh, yeah. Hehe… 😚”

“I hate it here…😒”  

Now, with the additional burden of personally attending to Yuji Itadori, there was only one thing keeping Ryomen Sukuna from completely imploding: 

You. His partner, his lover, his spouse, his anchor,-- the only source of light in his miserable, cursed life, – the sole person keeping him from reverting back to his old, murderous ways. 

Meeting a few years back, the ancient curse could’ve sworn the world got a dozen shades lighter the second his eyes landed on your form in the Tokyo crowd. Where everyone was actively moving away from his looming, intimidating hulk of a body, you looked at him with eyes void of the fear reflected off so many others. 

You approached him with interest, recognizing his unmistakable aura for that of the King of Curses, – and, to his utmost shock, – you proceeded to have a perfectly normal, civilized conversation with him. Never once did you look at him like you would a monster. Every time he’d get lost in those eyes of yours, never once did he find anything short of pure love and affection. It was sickeningly sweet. 

There on a mission, you introduced yourself as a fellow Jujutsu Sorcerer. 

Ryomen Sukuna could’ve sworn he’d heard your name before: rather infamous with the higher-ups, you were a well-respected sorcerer. That only aided to his immense confusion: why would a sorcerer of such high esteem and all around regard even remotely think talking to him, the King of Curses, was a good idea? 

Absolutely flabbergasted and entranced from your first encounter, Ryomen Sukuna was practically completely at your mercy. It took very little for you to simply haul him over your shoulder and take him wherever; he’d soon become akin to a lost puppy with you. 

Ryomen Sukuna is absolutely down-horrendous with his emotions. Hah, communication? Never heard of her. 

He’s never felt this deep for anyone before, and it terrifies him to no end. You terrify him to no end,-- the amount of power you have over him could be almost comical. 

At the start, he flat out avoided you altogether. Anytime he’d see you on campus he’d immediately start in the opposite direction. Anytime you’d attempt to strike up a conversation something would come up,-- he’d have to go somewhere, or the brats had gotten themselves in trouble again. And when Satoru Gojo found out about his little “crush”...  oh boy, the teasing was lethal.

It wasn’t long before he craved your touch, and Ryomen Sukuna started to enter withdrawal from your presence. You were brutal, the poison continuously being pumped into his veins, – which was extra ironic, considering he was after all the King of Poisons, – how the actual hell did he end up in such a position? What have you done to him? 

Man, he was cooked. 

With a lot of time, and a heck of a lot of patience, did the curse finally allow himself to reveal more of himself to you. 

It’s never been easy, – even after you two were married did Ryomen Sukuna still suck absolute ass at communicating his wants. 

He craved your attention, your gaze, your approval. You were the drug that he simply couldn’t get enough of. 

He’s not good with words, – in the past everything was just handed to him, – he had no clue how to actually work for someone’s affection. 

Please be patient with him, – he’s trying, he really is 🥺. No matter how much he denies it, no matter how much he complains he hates being dependent on someone, no matter how much he claims how meaningless love is, you both know deep down these feelings of deep admiration and affection aren’t one sided. Sometimes, that fact alone can get you through even his most frustrating of times. He pushes you away because he feels guilty, but almost immediately does he regret his actions and desire your presence more than anything. The things you do to him 

He lost his original form centuries ago, abandoning it after his near fatal confrontation with the sorcerers of the Heian Era. Gravely wounded, he absolved to staying hidden, laying low in the shadows. Sometimes he wished he still had that form, – still had his four arms, his two faces– he felt stronger, prettier in that body. Despite how much you told him how beautiful his current, two-armed form was, he wonders if you would’ve liked his original form– what it could do, how it could please your body. (But most of all he missed his two massive cocks to shove deep inside you–)

Ryomen Sukuna is very insecure about his image as the feared “King of Curses”. He’d be seen as weak, like he’d gone soft, – if anyone found out about you. That did little to deter you from showering him with your affections though <3 Even if he struggled to receive such affections–:

“What the actual hell do you think you’re doing–” 

“What? Am I not allowed to visit my darling husband at his job?” 

“No- ..! Who exactly do you think you are, you can’t just waltz into wherever to embarrass me–” You were in an empty classroom in what would be the normal time for lunch. The students would be out eating, so it was only you and him.

“Is that really all you think I do? Embarrass you?” You fought to conceal the pained expression threatening to bubble up to the surface. 

“Yes! Do you know what they’ll think of me if they see me with you? He snaps angrily

“Are you.. Ashamed of me?” You blink 

“What-? No, of course not” His face contorts into a scowl 

“Then why can’t people see me with you?!” 

“That’s not what I meant–” He hisses 

“Yeah?” you retort, “then, what did you mean by that?” 

“I–....”  Ryomen Sukuna only ever seems to find himself short of words with you

Nodding curtly, “I’ll take my leave then” you make your way to the door 

“Wait-” you pause, he hated seeing you upset. It made him feel hopeless, it made him feel weak. “tsk, nevermind. Leave then” 

Huffing, you step out the door. Your second foot never even leaves the threshold before you’re lifted up by a pair of strong arms. 

“Gah-! Ryomen– what the hell?!” 

“Shut up.” the curse growls, placing you down on the nearest desk with a surprising gentleness, “just shut up.” He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck

You smile, accustomed to his brazenness, knowing this was him succumbing to his own affections for you.

“I’ll be quieter next time.” 

“Mmm… don’t be”

“Oh?” you quirk an eyebrow, “are you no longer embarrassed of being seen with me?” 

“No,” he grumbles, “if any pathetic worm dares to utter something against me, I’ll cleave their head off” 

Chuckling, “charming”

“I’ll do it for you too” that part he whispers, so low you almost miss it. Almost. 

“Awh, you’d slaughter anyone putting dirt on my name? And they say romance is dead 🥰” 

“Shut the hell up.” 

-------------

Sukuna Ryomen would have a special ringer set for you in his phone so whenever you’d text him he’d know it was you 

He never responds to anyone’s texts,-- anyone’s that’s not yours. 

The second he hears that notification that man is immediately scrolling. It took him years to figure out how to work a telephone,-- and he still kinda sucks at it. So it takes him a while to respond, – he’s just a slow typer :) 

He’ll be in the middle of sparring with Yuji for his training when he’ll hear your notification and swiftly whip out his phone, – still in the middle of fighting. Poor Yuji will still be sweating his ass off trying his very diddly darn hardest to land a singular punch and he won't even glance up from his phone 😭

It doesn’t matter what he’s doing, – the guy could be in the middle of fighting a Special Grade and he’d start texting you about what he wants for dinner while simultaneously throwing slashes 😟

Not big on PDA, – but alone? Man, you can’t get the bastard off you, – blud’s clingier than a kitten 😭he just really likes being nice and snuggled up in your arms 

Alone, will often call you, – regardless of gender, – doll, (whore), sweetheart (if you’re not being a pain in the ass), – possessive lil’ shit and likes to add ‘my’ in front of any pet name, just to enforce the fact that you’re his. 

Calls you karasu –(Japanese word for raven) 

Sukuna Ryomen is incredibly picky with what he eats, (unless it’s your ass–)     – he needs his meals done in a very specific way, otherwise he’s just not eating. It needs to be your meals too. If bro forgets to bring lunch or you don’t have time to make one for him he just starves. He’s an absolute menace when hangry– super grumpy. None of the students can stand him hungry, – and he refuses to defile his delicate palette with fast food of all horrible things

You got some of those cute cookie cutters for sandwiches and gave him little star sandwiches one day for his lunch. Mans was over the fucking moon. His ass refuses to ever eat another sandwich again unless its cut into cute lil’ shapes 🤏🥺

Be careful if you ever decide to visit him at work after a certain amount of times, cuz he will make you useful: using you as a sparring partner, giving you chores, making an example out of you to the other students. 

You’re strong enough to hold your own against the King of Curses in a quick spar, – which really only means you won’t get immediately eviscerated upon throwing hands. 

You’re strong, but nowhere near as strong as Ryomen Sukuna. 

He’d only give you a cocky smirk, telling you to hurry up and lock in. You stare at the expecting faces of Megumi, Nobara and Yuji – who you naturally have grown a rather close bond to, being around each other so often. He gives you a reassuring thumbs up, smiling with an expectant glamor. You gulp, glancing back at your husband who has the most shit-eating grin on his face. Oh, you were cooked. 

You manage to successfully dodge at least two strong attacks before being thrown onto your ass, the wind knocked out of you. Huffing, you scramble up, irritation giving you newfound determination. The King only raises an eyebrow at you. 

You explode into a sprint, dashing up behind him, seemingly catching him off-guard. You lean in real close to his ear, whispering in a sultry tone: 

“Your shoelace is untied” 

“What, I’m not even wearing shoelaces–” and he gets thrown into the nearest tree, snapping it in half. 

“Hahah!!” 

“No way, Sukuna just got his ass handed to him!” Nobara exclaims, grinning

“That was so cool!” gushes Yuji, sending a wave of pride flowing through you at his excitement. 

It is short lived, as your husband comes up behind you, glaring with a burning passion in his eyes. 

“You totally beat him up, you sent him flying–” Megumi slaps a hand to Yuji’s mouth, his rambling getting choked off with a “mmph-!” 

His smile is laced with dynamite as Sukuna dismisses the students early. Confused, but mostly relieved, the trio scurry away, Nobara and Yuji shouting cheery goodbyes over their shoulders. 

Only you were close enough to see the raging lust in the King of Curse’s many eyes. His gaze rakes over your body, tensed in a fight or flight state, predatory. You swallow, hard, chuckling nervously, “Heheheh…”  

Oh man, you were so horribly, undoubtedly cooked. 

(short smut begins below line)

----------

[AFAB vers.]

Sukuna is brutal, hips smashing against yours, large hands gripping so hard large bruises start to form on your hips. You cry out, sobbing, pleading with him to slow the fuck down. Sukuna only clicks his tongue, condescension dripping from his tone, 

“Where’s all that confidence and strength from before, eh?” 

“h..*hic*..huh-?” 

“Tsk,” he grunts, slamming himself particularly hard into your leaking heat, causing you to scream in both pleasure and pain

“S..sukuna-!! P- *hic* please..-! I-..I can’t— I can’t– OHH~” You keel over, knees giving in from underneath you. You stay pressed firmly against the teacher’s desk– his desk–  in his empty classroom, – only being held by Sukuna’s deadly grip. “I-It *hic*.. It– HURTS..- *hic*” 

“You can,...  and. you. will.”  he punctuates each syllable with another unforgivable thrust, “You seemed confident enough you.. *pant* take me in a..- *pant* .. in a fight– fuck–” Warm cum swells, coating your insides white. 

Your eyes roll violently to the back of your head, thighs squeezing desperately against him, instinctively trying to milk him for all he’s got, – despite the excess cum already spilling from your abused hole, kept in only by Sukuna’s massive cock. Was this the fourth or the fifth time..? 

You lost count ages ago, numbers losing all sense of value along with everything else in your head, Sukuna absolutely fucking your goddamn brains out. Dumbed by his cock, you could only limply gaze dreamily through lidded eyes, a look of pure bliss on your face. 

Sukuna grins down at your fucked out face, admiring you as his masterpiece. You looked so pretty impaled on his cock. Pulling your head back by your hair, he smashes his lips onto yours in a sloppy kiss. You truly were the best thing to come of his long, cursed life. 

-------------

[AMAB vers.]

Sukuna is cruel, hips smashing against your ass, large hands gripping so hard large bruises start to form on your hips. He fucks you, bent over the desk, – his desk, in his empty classroom,-- and shaking like a pathetic mutt. You cry out, sobbing, pleading with him to slow the fuck down. Sukuna only clicks his tongue, condescension dripping from his tone, 

“Where’s all that confidence and strength from before, eh?” 

“h..*hic*..huh-?” 

“Tsk,” he grunts, large hand closing around your swollen, throbbing cock. Your eyes widen in horror as he begins to jerk you off at a grueling pace, causing you to scream in both pleasure and pain

“S..sukuna-!! P- *hic* please..-! I-..I can’t— I can’t– OHH~” You keel over, knees giving in from underneath you. You stay pressed firmly against the desk only held by Sukuna’s torso. “I-It *hic*.. It– HURTS..- *hic*” 

“You can,...  and. you. will.”  He punctuates each syllable with another unforgivable thrust, syncing with a violent pump to your cock, limpand emptied out. “You seemed confident enough you.. *pant* take me in a..- *pant* .. in a fight– fuck–” Warm cum swells, coating your insides white. 

Your eyes roll violently to the back of your head, thighs squeezing desperately against him, instinctively trying to milk him for all he’s got, – despite the excess cum already spilling from your abused hole, kept in only by Sukuna’s massive cock. You're so drained, already milked dry, a few meager squirts of cum dripping from your cock. Was this the fourth or the fifth time..? 

You lost count ages ago, numbers losing all sense of value along with everything else in your head, Sukuna absolutely fucking your goddamn brains out. Dumbed by his cock, you could only limply gaze dreamily through lidded eyes, the look of utter worship on your face enough for him to harden once again inside of you. 

Sukuna grins down at your fucked out face, admiring you as his masterpiece. You looked so pretty impaled on his cock. Pulling your head back by your hair, he smashes his lips onto yours in a sloppy kiss. You truly were the best thing to come of his tedious, damned life. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sukuna brain-rot goes hard-!! He's such a goofy lil' guy, I love him :3

[lighteyed]

it's no big surprise you turned out this way

steve harrington x fem mayfield!reader

[3.7k] steve comes over for family dinner. it is absolutely not your idea.

disclaimer- no mention of blood relation to max, no physical descriptors of reader, they are sisters in any way you want them to be. trigger warning for shitty parents and billy h*rgrove. this is not a billy safe space.

dividers by @saradika-graphics and @cafekitsune

thanks for reading if you do <3 enjoy teehee

You drop a kiss on Steve’s head in greeting, which he accepts with a thrilled, in-a-new-relationship, glowing smile, before dropping down beside him and subsequently dropping your news, or rather, your request that’s not really your request, on him. “Neil wants you to come over for dinner.” You tense at the utterance of your stepfather’s name, even if it’s your own mouth doing the uttering.

   His smile dissipates. Only a little, but enough for you to wring your hands together. You want to scoop all the words you’d just said back out from his ears and spoon them into your mouth again. Make him forget it’d ever happened. “Like, like family dinner?” He asks. He can’t fathom a world where he sits placid across the table from Billy Hargrove and passes him the salt respectably and doesn’t end the night with his fist colliding with his face (regardless of the outcome).

   “No, it’d just be you and him, he’s dying to take you out on a date,” you deadpan in response, shaking your head. Steve rolls his eyes, no malice intended. “Obviously family dinner, Steve. You, me, Max, my mom, Neil… Billy.” You force out the final name. He swears he hears your teeth grinding as you say it.

   “Don’t get grouchy on me.” He reaches over and smooths out the upset crease between your brows. Your shoulders relax in response. You’re always so wound up he’s made it his mission to give you that ease he knows you crave. He’s quite good at it, on days where he can steal you away and keep your mind occupied with the lovelier things in life. But there are some things he can’t spare you from, as much as he tries.

   Really, he can only keep you out of that house for so long before your family starts demanding their 17-year-old back.

   For the most part you keep away. Max roams the new mall all day with her friends now that June’s here and summer’s entered Hawkins in full swing, and you drive them there with your mom’s car if she doesn’t need it for the day, or Steve drives you all there and then home again if he’s not at work already that morning. If he has work you loiter in Scoops the entire day, lugging a stack of books acquired from the library and settling in a corner booth, popping your head up once in awhile to check on him and his misery in his new position in that ridiculous uniform. You brighten his days just as much as he brightens yours. And he really, really does. (And you like the uniform, as silly as it is, for the record).

   “’M not grumpy,” you deflate, pressing your forehead into his shoulder. He rubs your back in a nice, soothing way when you lean into him. Ever since he asked you out he’s been taking every excuse to touch you and you’re not complaining in the slightest. He has the softest hands you’ve ever held and they’re perpetually gentle and kind. All the love in the world encased in the hands of some boy from Hawkins, Indiana, a place you never expected to find a home in, let alone find a boy. The boy, if you thought about it long enough. Early days to be thinking about it but you did think about it. Often. For hours. You sigh quietly. “I can tell ‘em you’re busy, you don’t have to come.”  

   “Max knows I’m not busy,” he points out.

   “She doesn’t wanna be there, either. Look, I’ll just say you can’t come-“

   “But I can.”

    You lift back up, wary, but hopeful. A new flower poking its petals up from the earth, tilting right toward the sun.  “I don’t wanna make you miserable.”

   “That’s stupid,” he scoffs. He kisses your head this time, the perfumy scent of your shampoo fogging his brain up in a nice, lovey haze. “How could you make me miserable? You’re like, the best thing I’ve ever had, by a mile.”

   You smile in spite of your gloomy mood. “The fuckin’ Hargroves have an innate knack for misery.”

    “It’s a good thing you’re not a Hargrove then, hm, Mayfield?” He brushes your hair away from your face and  takes your chin in his hand, angling your face up properly to meet his, and he kisses you like he well and truly means it, firm and adoring. You can feel his grin seared into your mouth when you pull away, in spite of your reluctance and Steve’s attempts to pull you back in.

   . “You really wanna come? It won’t be fun. It’ll probably be shitty, actually.” You ask him in a tiny, hesitant voice, too overcompensating to someone who do anything you asked of him. Having Steve there sounds better than not having him there, and better than having to explain why he’s chosen not to come, but you know it’ll be weird. Worse than weird. After what happened back in November, him and Billy go out of their way to ignore one another, and it’s so deliberate it sucks the air out of a room. And even with that, Billy still makes it a point to direct snide remarks to you about Steve every chance he gets: alone, in front of Max, in front of your parents, in front of Steve himself while pretending he’s not there. And it’s gotten worse since you admitted to your mother in confidence that you and Steve were together now, and she told Neil, and Neil told Billy. But there’s no running from being at the same dinner table as him. You know you’re asking a lot. You wouldn’t be asking if Neil hadn’t insisted. In a loud, pointed voice, with a stare that unnerved you. You’d agreed to it hurriedly after that.

   “Well,” Steve leans back, playful, “want to is a bit of a stretch but I can make an exception for ya-“

   “Steve-“ you groan, pushing his chest, but he laughs, pushing himself back forward, smacking another loud kiss on your mouth.

   “Kidding, I’m kidding, c’mere,” his fingers grip your waist feather-light, tickling, as he laughs, and you can’t help but laugh too through your head shakes and faux-exasperated sighs.

  “I’m really asking you if you want to, I know it’s a lot asking you to make nice with Billy.” You interlace your fingers with his and he places them on your lap, all big brown eyes blinking up at you affectionately. You’re a sucker for his eyes. You can tell what he’s going to say before he says it.

   “Nothin’s too much for you,” he says in his sweet, low voice, another kiss pressed to your cheek, his stamp of agreeance left blazing there on your cheek.

   Late into the next day he arrives on 4819 Cherry Lane, as he has so many times before, but he parks right in front and gets out this time. He doesn’t sit by the wheel waiting for you to come running out, sometimes with Max in toe, usually by yourself, breathless and beaming, ready for him to whisk you away as fast as he can without breaking a million laws. He knows it’s not the gentlemanly thing to do, having a girl come to the car by herself instead of going up and ringing her bell, and normally he would, but you insisted he didn’t, not wanting to draw attention to yourself or him, and you were already waiting outside on the front steps when he got there most of the time, anyway.

   And this time, too, you get the door before he can ring the bell, almost ripping it off the hinges when you throw it open to greet him.

   “Thank God,” you mutter. You go to take his hand but remembers yours is sweaty and pull back. The sweater you’re wearing is pretty, complements your eyes and complexion and your everything, and your hair is down and soft-looking. He’d run his hands through it in other circumstances. “It’s not too late to make a break for it,” you lead him into the house quietly, throwing your head back and casting a dark look down the hallway. “Just say the words and we can flee, I won’t blame you.” He’s dressed so nicely, and you don’t even have the time to properly admire him. He did his hair all perfect (he always does but you can tell he put a little extra sparkle into it tonight), he’s in his nicest jeans that mold against his legs slim and fit, his sweater is a navy blue and it’s such a good color on him you might cry. You can see effort written in everything he does, tonight especially. His desire to make a good impression rings in your heart. You want to regard him warmly and turn your gaze on him with the utmost veneration but your skin buzzes with anxiety and it feels like one large, domineering fist is clamped around your intestines. 

   “It’ll be fine,” he says, squeezing your hand. He doesn’t even notice that it’s sweaty, though your anxiety is palpable and he amps up his happy exterior to balance you out. He’s probably just as nervous as you are, deep down. “Parents love me.” It’s an insistent sentence. “And I’m gonna turn on my charm.” He makes a clicking sound with his mouth and snaps his fingers around a little. You stare at him, blank. Neil is rumbling around somewhere in the distance and for the time being you are utterly immune to Steve’s banter.

   Not completely, but enough. “I don’t know if that’s the kinda charm we need here,” you pat his shoulder.

   “But it can’t hurt,” he points out with a raised eyebrow, pointing a finger gun at you.

   “Oh, it can hurt alright.” You steer him into the living room anyway. “Steve is here.”

   You announce it to the open air, waiting to see who comes when you call. Your mom, immediately, rushes out of the kitchen to greet him. She’s never met one of your boyfriends before. Her greeting is enthusiastic, to say the least. And she’s a hugger. It’s nice, actually, Steve thinks, no matter how embarrassed and nervous you are, to be embraced kindly by a mother. It’s familiar, like some distant dream from a faraway past. You have your qualms with Susan, he knows that, but he knows you love her hard, and that’s why you take so much issue with the way she lets herself be treated. It’s difficult to watch you grapple with all of this, all of the time.

  “It’s so nice to meet you, Steve, or Steven? Whatever you want,” she rubs his back as she takes him into the kitchen alongside you.

   “Steve is great, thank you, Mrs. May-“ he clears his throat, “Mrs. Hargrove, I mean.“ It’s hard to reconcile this woman in front of him with the domineering men bearing that same last name. It’s hard to distinguish her as anything but another piece of you and Max. A good piece.

   “The girls talk about you all the time,” Susan says, still smiling.

   “I do not,” Max huffs as she comes out of her room, abashed. She’s in a nice outfit, too. Not as dressed down as she usually is. She tugs at her tied back hair like it hurts.

   “Ma, how tight did you do her hair?” You ask, beckoning Max over.

   “It pops out of every scrunchie!” Susan says, patting her on the head with such clear affection it makes Steve ache a little.

   “Maxie.” You open your arms for her. She stands in front of you obediently as you loosen the hold her hair ties have on her unruly locks, smoothing them out nicely as you tie it back up again, looser.

    Everything’s so nice and homey that the shift in the atmosphere is almost imperceptible when a door creaks open a bit away from you four. But it’s there. He sees you draw back into yourself, your smile, at him talking to your mom and being so sweet, at Max, at the normalcy of this moment, sliding right off your face as Neil walks into the room. You’d almost forgotten him. You could’ve stayed in a bubble with your mom and sister and beautiful boyfriend forever. But Neil comes out from the hallway, from Billy’s bedroom, and Billy follows behind, fully clothed for once, his shirt buttoned all the way up his chest, his expression dark and cloudy. His jaw is tight as his gaze fixes on Steve.

   But Steve, so gracious, sticks his hand out to shake Neil’s, smiling like Neil’s spawn isn’t the worst person Steve’s ever encountered as he introduces himself. “Nice to meet you, sir. Steve Harrington.” He keeps his mouth upturned sweet and polite even when Billy snorts in the background. He doesn’t even look in his direction.

    “Nice to meet you, too, Steven.” Neil’s handshake is more like a clenched fist. You stare at their clasped hands like you want to commit murder. Steven.

   “Steve, not Steven,” you mutter. Max touches your arm in warning before Steve can. You can’t help it. If there’s anyone you’re defensive over besides her, it’s him.

   “Steven’s fine,” he chimes in, keeping that same old good-natured Steve smile on his face. He’s too appeasing and Neil has never deserved it. He rolls his shoulders back and talks to himself in his head. Just one night. For her, for her, for her.

  “It’s the name your parents gave you, of course it’s fine,” Neil claps him on the back, and you know he doesn’t mean anything by it but you and Steve both flinch. From the words and the tap alike. Neil ignores your remark completely as he continues to talk to Steve in a way that makes your skin crawl. He brings Steve over to the dining room table and the rest of you follow suit, settling in around each other. You make sure you sit next to Steve, but you second-guess it when Billy takes the straight across from him. Neil drones on. “Y’know, it’s interesting how all this time, you’ve been driving the girls around for months now, but this is the first time we’re meeting.”

    Steve checks on you out of the corner of his eye. Your jaw ticks. He squeezes your knee but before he can answer, you do it for him. “He’s been busy, that’s all.”

Neil looks toward you. For once. It is not a pleasant look. “For months?” He tucks his hands under his chin.

   “I know you don’t like having strangers in the house after you work,” you say, placating in a way that turns your stomach.

   “That’s true,” Neil says. “Billy doesn’t seem to get the memo on that, so I’m glad someone in this house is paying attention.” The degradation of Billy at the dinner table is nothing new. And you feel bad about it. You’d feel worse if he wasn’t so nasty and hateful to everyone because of it. Neil had run into Billy’s latest flavor, Miranda Brady from your Calculus class, while she was rummaging through the fridge the other night, and he hadn’t been happy. He was polite to her until she’d been hurried out the door by Billy, and then he’d reamed into him in colorful, awful ways. Max and Susan both hadn’t been home, but it was one of those nights where you had been, and you’d lingered by your bedroom door awkwardly, making sure it didn’t get too out of hand. You weren’t sure either of them even knew you were there. Accepting the praise seems wrong. You nod stiffly.

  Billy, however, turns his gaze on Steve, the first acknowledgement he’s gotten in months. “Say, Harrington, you used to be quite the ladies’ man yourself, yeah?” A sick grin creeps up on his face. Steve sees your hand tighten around your fork. You’ve barely shoveled your pasta into your mouth. Max gapes at her stepbrother, her mouth still full of food.

   Steve clears his throat. “I had a steady girlfriend for about a year, actually. I’m sure you remember that.”

   “Yeah, but I mean,” Billy rocks his chair back. “That’s not what they were calling you King Steve for, is it?”

   You lurch forward. Steve drops his hand over your knee again. “I think it was because of the whole captain of the basketball team thing. Or the captain of the swim team thing, I can’t remember when it started. Youngest captain the Tigers had seen in a decade, actually, when I got it sophomore year.” Steve grins again and the cocky charm he possesses but hardly uses much anymore comes out to play, just for a bit. You settle down again. You eat what’s in front of you, calmly. You hear Max gulp down her own food across the table. It’s almost cartoonish.

  “Max, chew first,” Susan admonishes gently.

   “I am,” she retorts, but she’s inhaling everything in front of her.

    Billy  cuts in. “See, that’s interesting, I thought it was because you hooked up with a lot of girls. Like half the class.”

   Steve doesn’t even blink. He takes a sip of his water. “I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

  “Are you trying to upset your sister?” Neil asks him with raised eyebrows.

  He goes quiet again, hardened. “No.”

  “It seems like you’re trying to.”

   His jaw ticks this time. “I’m not.”

   “Do you remember what I said to you? About a half hour ago?”

   His jaw ticks again. His eyes meet Steve’s over the table. Steve feels the merest twitch of embarrassment for him. He knows all too well what it’s like to have a dad who takes a weird sort of pleasure in berating his son. “Yes, I remember.”

   You stare down at your plate, pinching the skin of your palm.

   “If you remember so well, then you should stop talking.”

   Billy stops talking. Neil turns to Steve again. “So, captain of two athletic teams, that’s impressive. I’m sure your college plans are impressive as well.”

   Steve stutters in his answer and you hold your head aloft in your hands, suppressing a groan. Max finishes her food so fast, she’s excused from the table and gone within minutes of that conversation starting. You nearly fall out of your chair in your attempt to kick her shin under the table. She holds her hands up in her retreat while nobody’s looking, mouthing that she’s sorry at you and running away into your shared bedroom. You suppress a groan again.

   Outside, after another grueling hour of Neil dominating the conversation and making dinner unenjoyable for everyone, you walk Steve to his car, fiddling with your hands again. He props himself up against his window and wrestles you out of the knot you’re in.

  “That sucked, I’m sorry,” you say, knocking your foreheads together, your mouth drawn in a thin, perturbed line.

  “It was fine, you’re fine,” he whispers the last bit. That’s what you’re more worried about, after all. You’re worried he’s mad, planning to leave you for someone with a more normal family, people who are warmer, someone capable of being warmer. You’re plenty warm around him, but you suppose you could be better. You start running over all the things you could do better and all the ways he could do better in your head. “Stop thinkin’ so much. Everything’s okay.” He nudges your foot with his.

   “No, I know, it’s just, it’s awkward, it’s not fun, shitty way to spend your night, shitty way for anyone to spend a night.”

   “It’s okay. It was good. I was good, wasn’t I?” He kisses your palm where you’d pinched it earlier.

   “You were great, you’re always great.” You stroke his cheek, lingering on his lips for a second. “You look really nice, by the way.” You’d almost forgotten to tell him. “I like this color on you.” You smooth over and down his arms.

   “Yeah?” He grins, lopsided, tilting his head.

   “Looks good with your hair.” You reach up to tug on the strand that hangs down like an art form over his forehead. You’re the only one he lets play around about his hair.

   “You look beautiful, too, for the record.”

   “I was trying to make this about you.” You poke him.

   “I like when things are about you.” He pokes you back.

   “I hate when things are about me.”

   “Yeah, I’m trying to fix that.”

   You chuckle. “Good luck.”

   He gestures back to your house. “I’m makin’ progress here. I think I get you a little bit better now, after all that.”

  “And what exactly do you get?” You wrap your arms around his waist.

  “Why you’re always so tense and grumpy.” He cups your cheeks like he’s holding the most delicate thing ever to be held.

   “I’m not grumpy-“

   “Just tense, then.”

   You accept that, begrudgingly. “I’m pretty on edge most of the time, I guess.”

   “I try to talk you out of it,” he says softly, stroking your face.

   “You’re the best, I hope you know that.”

   “I try,” he says again, and you nod. “It’s not easy. Night after night.”

   “It’s not.” You bunch up his sweater.

   “I get it, you know? They’re not here as often as yours, but I get it.”

   “Dinner with yours next time?”  

   “Yeah fucking right.” He kisses you for it, though, because you mean it, you’d have dinner with them if he asked just like he did because you asked, a long and languid kiss that he hopes no one’s shifting around the curtains to be privy to. He withdraws first and says, “Your mom is sweet, I’d have dinner with her again.”

  “I’ll let you know when she’s free, take her out, show her a good time,” you tease.

    “If she’s anything like you I’m a goner,” he laments.

    “You’re a flirt, is what you are.”

     You kiss him again, beaming, heart swollen with affection.

    When you go back inside and Susan tells you how wonderful and handsome she thought Steve was, how good he seemed for you, that rush flows through you all over again. You even bring her in for a hug.

thank u for reading ur super hot n sexy n we're kissing rn

[a-hazbin-reader]

Hi 👋🏽 I really like your stuff! I was wondering; could we possibly have some platonic headcanons for Husk where he has this unspoken kind of parent-kid relationship with the reader?

And the funny thing is that some of the others speculate that it’s no coincidence that the reader’s weirdly good at cards. Like, the reader doesn’t look exactly like him per say, but they bare enough of a resemblance to him that it has the other wondering is Husk could have possibly (unknowingly) had a kid while he was alive. No one knows. Not even us.

♦️ plz, and thank you ♥️

This is so fucking cute!!

Husk X Reader Headcanons

❌️Romantic

✅️Platonic

TW: Reader being a sad baby, Kidnapping, Underage drinking, Harassment, Reader needs help fr

Description: ☝️⬆️

Sure, technically you were an adult but you're also still just a kid

You thought you knew everything, you thought you were grown and didn't need to rely on anybody

You didn't need to open up to anybody, you grew up tough and went out like a badass

You weren't hurt or angry at the world at all

It's your attitude towards these things that makes Husk look out for you, keeping a watchful eye on you even when you don't want him to

You're trying to get a drink at a bar?? He's dragging you out and telling you that you're too young for that shit

Fucking hypocrite you drink all the time

You're getting into a fight with someone 10x your fucking size?? Husk is there to tackle them and take you home

Lectures you the entire way back if you're the one who started it

Some sleazy motherfucker is hitting on you?(Or even if it's not someone sleazy really) He's there to tell them to keep walking

Even if you don't want them to

BRO WTF

Even the others at the hotel slip up and call him your dad which just pisses you off even more

"Angel! Let me have a drink!!"

"No way, kid! Your pops would totally kill me if I let you get wasted!"

Definitely causes some arguments between you two, the kind that makes everyone else in the hotel scatter

"You're not in charge of me, Husk! Just leave me alone!!"

"You think you got it all figured out, don't you? Well you fucking don't! You're not the biggest baddest thing out there! Hell, you're not even the baddest thing in this hotel!"

Not Alastor giving you cheeky wave as he walks by

Once the fight reaches it's peak then you storm off, fed up with being treated like a child

"I don't need a father so just back off!"

Husk needs a drink

Fine, let's see how you like it when nobody is looking out for you

You and Husk don't speak for awhile after that but you're too stubborn to admit that you miss him

You begin to act out whether you realize it or not, wanting him to come and yell at you like he used to

It was actually nice having someone who cared enough about you to fight with you over your choices

So you take your newfound freedom and sneak into a club that you've been trying to get into for awhile

You meet some fun people and party with them, drinking every drink they slide your way, dancing with whoever grabbed you

After awhile though you begin to feel dizzy and sick, you desperately need some fresh air

And some water

"Hey where you going, squirt??? We're just getting started!!"

Hey let go-

Ow! That hurts! Why are you grabbing so hard!?

I said let go of me-

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

HUSK-

You nearly cry at the sight of him, fur bristling with anger, wings spread out, arms crossed

You break away and run to him immediately, hugging him tight and relaxing as he wraps a protective arm around you

You'll blame it on the alcohol later

"You okay, kid?"

You don't see how he never takes his eyes off your friends turned attackers

You just nod and hide your face in his chest, squeezing him tighter

"I wanna go home..."

Husk immediately softens up and carries you home, making sure nobody follows the two of you

He takes care of you the entire night and has a hangover remedy ready for you in the morning

No lecture from him this time, he just quietly takes care of you then leaves

Charlie and Vaggie will later tell you that he stayed with you the whole night, refusing to leave your side

You'll have to seek him out on your own once you feel better, sitting on a bar stool and clearing your throat

"I'm not going to fix you a drink so just forget it-"

"Thank you...for...you know..."

Husk visibly softens up once he registers your words, sighing as he sets his rag down

It takes all of his strength to power through his next words, looking embarrassed and uncomfortable

Telling you that he's not trying to baby you when he stops you from doing certain things, or when he tells you that you're too young

He's just trying to look out for you because he cares about you

And no matter how angry with him you get, he'll always come bail you out of trouble and you can always come to him with anything

Sure, he might not be your father but he's definitely your daddy

Wait fuck that came out wrong

DON'T YOU LAUGH AT HIM

It sounded cool in the movie!!

It's not that funny!! You are ruining the moment

Husk is so fucking embarrassed now, forget he said anything

Freezes up when you suddenly leap across the counter to hug his neck, squeezing him in a way that makes his heart melt

Hugs you back while awkwardly petting your head, feeling like his old heart is about to burst

"Thanks for everything, Husk~"

NO HE'S NOT CRYING

I GOT VERY CARRIED AWAY WITH THIS I'M SORRY!! I hope you still enjoy it!!

[hotch33tos22]

Shigaraki x Barista Reader

“Your Number.” (Fluff)

Danm it...

DANM IT!.

it was you again... the same woman who'd always be working in the coffee shop. your usual 9 to 4 shift,Saturdays to Wednesdays to where on Thursday, to Saturday youd do your daily chores, errands or relaxing...

There you were again... and again... every morning handing Tomura his usual Plain coffee with two sugar packets and you could never forget his stirring stick.

Once again in a repeated schedule Tomura would go every morning only during the days when you work at 10 am for his coffee, 9 was too early to see you.. he didn't seem THAT desperate for your attention but later on he had to things... 10... well.. 10 was perfect.

This had been his routine now, to get this coffee and see you behind that counter... the place was nearly always empty when Tomura was there but he didn't mind that at all...

He was here just for you after all...

He'd always have his snarky yet bold attitude towards you... yet you never minded?

He couldn't help to wonder why...did he hate it? Maybe... Maybe not?

Even when he wasn't in his best moods and was acting all cocky and harsh you'd still be nice.

It'd been pissing him off for quite awhile now... his anger with your kindness, your niceness towards his bullshit... you never called him out, never insulted him, never made any bad remarks or said anything rude. Just the same

'good morning!',

'what can I get for you?' bullshit. What did you think of him? Really... Did you even think he was attractive, or cool... or funny? Or was he just like some rude customer you put up with... what the hell were you thinking...?

It was driving him nuts, his mind racing... he just had to know what you were thinking... maybe you thought he was attractive, maybe you even found him attractive and cute, or at the least charming... it's not like he was some hideous creature or anything... his thoughts started to become more and more lewd and intrusive as his eyes slowly traced your body from behind the counter... damn it... His eyes started wandering down your body, thinking about what you looked like underneath your uniform, your skirt and your top and... dammit all-

He began to feel a slight heat rising to his face, quickly covering his reddening cheeks with his hand, scratching his cheek with his long, bitten back nails. This was a bad habit of his when he got nervous.

“Damnit... no no no...” he mumbled, rubbing his fingers over his rough neck, trying to quell the intrusive thoughts that we're growing more and more prominent in his head. He was getting all worked up over a woman just because she was nice to him, and she was attractive... he let out a low, exasperated sigh, his eyes remaining fixated on you the entire time while you prepared his coffee.

He continued to stare at you from where he stood, letting his eyes travel up and down your form, tracing every detail of your figure. He found himself becoming increasingly distracted, trying (and failing) to control his thoughts.

It's all your fault... you were too damn nice, too nice to a person like him, and that was just encouraging the thoughts he was having about you...

His scratching suddenly became more intense as he became more and more agitated... he felt trapped. Trapped in this seemingly endless cycle of infatuation and desire, unable to escape the hold you had over him. He needed to say something, anything, to break the silence between the both of you. Taking a deep breath, he hesitantly looked back up at you, his eyes filled with a mix of frustration and something else he wouldn't admit.

As he continued to stare he couldn't help but to wonder... would you be into him?

He could have sworn you Knew he was a villain. The moment where one day he had accident let down his mask in front if you as you stood in shock but quickly composed yourself to continue on and take his order.

He knew he wasn't the typical ideal type, He was too much of a dick, too standoffish with an attitude that didn't help much at all with making him approachable. He was awkward, he knew that much, his awkwardness could be endearing in some ways... but it would probably be a major turn off for most people.

His thoughts continued to race as he tried to figure you out.

'Fuck it.' Was all that rang in his mind as he subconsciously moved his body towards you.

'wait... wait..! Stop-... stop moving-!' His mind panicked as he stood infront of the counter as you looked up at him with a tilting head of confusion

"Do you need something sir?" You curiously asked

Dammit... he cursed himself, internally facepalming as he realised what he was doing, his eyes darting to the floor in embarrassment.

Why was it so damn hard to just ask... you...

It's was as if something was holding him back, like something inside him was keeping him from spitting it out. He felt pathetic, standing in front of you like a shy teenager with a crush.

As he heard you speak, he suddenly became acutely aware of the way you addressed him.

Sir? Why was it 'sir...' he was only twenty for Christ sake...

He scratched his neck again, trying to hide his reddened cheeks.

"I'd... like your number..." he mumbled, trying to sound as disinterested as possible as he forced himself to look up into your face, his eyes avoiding direct eye contact, instead focusing on the counter.

He knew it was a direct request and maybe a little bit sudden... but it had been gnawing at him for months now and he just... he just couldn't keep it in anymore.

"I'm sorry?" You furrowed your brows in confusion you didn’t hear him through his mumbles, you leaned over the counter to hear him better. He leaned forwards, his hands gripping the edge of the counter as he repeated himself a bit more clearly.

"I asked for your number..."

He was so close, the only thing separating them was the counter top itself. He could smell the faint scent of pertume on you, as well as faint traces of coffee that clung to your clothing and skin.

Number? Like your employee number?….

"Is there a complaint you'd like to do?" You looked up at him with worry. Did your services not satisfy him? Was it a complain?

He let out an annoyed grunt, rolling his eyes at your confusion.

"No, no... there's no complaint... I just..." he paused, his mind running in circles trying to find the words to say.

"I just, I-" he was getting flustered again, his heart racing in his chest as he looked at you. He had come all this way, he was so close to asking... so why did he feel so damn nervous?

Your eyes furrowed deeply as you tried to understand his stuttered words.

He cursed internally, frustrated by his inability to express himself properly. He knew he probably looked like a complete idiot right now, standing there and stammering like an imbecile, but he just couldn't push the words out.

This was so damn frustrating...

He knew what he wanted, he knew what to ask for but his damn mind and mouth just weren't cooperating.

He took a deep breath and tried again.

"just-" he started, still refusing to make eye contact with you. His fingers dug into the edge of the counter as he tried to calm his racing heartbeat.

"Just... give me your number... please..." Please? he thought in disbelief. He rarely used please... hell, he hardly ever said please. But somehow it just slipped out without him realising.

His heart beat faster as he waited for your response, mentally preparing himself for the possibility of rejection...

"M-m-my number?" You stuttered out as your cheeks rose red, as you began to realize he wanted your number. sure you'd get asked for your number not often but time to time by a couple of different men. But during work? With a customer you Knew was a villain? You wanted to decline but danm it you've been crushing on him for what? The longest he's ever came to the shop?

He couldn't help but notice the way your cheeks became flushed, a slight blush spreading across your face. For some reason that made his gut twist in a way he wasn't quite used to...

He leaned a bit further forwards, his eyes darting from the counter, to your face and back again, hoping that his intense look wasn't too off putting.

"Yes... your number..." he repeated, the words leaving his mouth a bit more firmly this time. He was nervous, anxious even, but he was determined to get what he came for.

"O-oh...o-okay um.." you nervously shuffled through the counter to find a pen and paper

He couldn't believe it. You were actually... agreeing? That was unexpected.

He'd thought you'd turn him down, maybe say your weren't interested, or that it was against policy for employees to give out their personal information to customers...

He watched you intently as you searched through the storage underneath the counter, his heart thumping in his chest.

He couldn't stop himself from scratching at his neck again...

"Hurry up..." he mumbled, his impatience growing with every second that passed.

He wanted your number, he needed your number as soon as possible.

He glanced around, noticing how some of the other customers were shooting him weird looks from their seats, probably wondering why he was leaned over the counter so much.

He grumbled under his breath, wishing they would mind there own damn business...

You finally found a pen and ripped an empty recipe paper nervously writing down your number as you bit the inside your your cheek.

He watched as you hastily scribbled your number down, his eyes eagerly following the movement of your hand.

His heart rate was increasing by the second, the anxiousness and anticipation was almost too much for him to handle.

He leaned himself forwards even further, his arms pressing against the counter as he craned his neck to get a better view of the number you were putting down.

Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, you stopped writing, ripping the piece of paper from the recipe book and holding it out to him.

He stared at it for a moment, his eyes fixed on the numbers you had written on it.

This was it. Your number... he could finally have a direct way of communicating with you...

He quickly snatched the piece of paper out of your hand, holding it between his fingers as if it was the most precious thing in the world.

He could feel the excitement building inside of him, his pulse racing as he folded the piece of paper and stuffed it into his pocket.

He looked back up at you, and for a split second, he almost felt like he was on cloud nine. But just as quickly as the feeling came, the reality of what he had just done hit him like a truck.

He'd just gotten the number of a woman he had zero chances of actually getting, and he didn't even know how to talk to women. He was in way over his head already.

He quickly attempted to school his expression, trying to maintain his usual bored and nonchalant expression, not wanting to let on how much this interaction had affected him.

But as he stared at your nervous expression and flushed cheeks, he realised he was failing miserably. He could feel his own face heating up, the tips of his ears feeling warm as the realisation hit him. He cleared his throat, attempting to compose himself before speaking.

"Thanks..." he mumbled, his voice coming out more gruffly than he had intended.

He knew he should probably say something else, anything else, but he was tongue tied.

His mind was racing a mile a minute, trying to think of something to say to make this situation less awkward. He fidgeted with the paper in his pocket, his fingers tracing over the numbers written on it.

"U-um-…T-thank you..." you softly spoke as you looked at his hidden features. Your ears were dusted with a hue of red as you looked up at him with the most loving eyes. He couldn't help but notice the way your eyes softened as you spoke, the look of admiration and affection in your gaze making his heart skip a beat.

He felt a sudden rush of heat to his cheeks, his body reacting involuntarily to your look.

He quickly looked away, desperately trying to hide the effect you were having on him.

"Whatever..." he mumbled, attempting to sound disinterested and unbothered but failing miserably.

He dug his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, his fingers gripping the piece of paper that held your number. He knew he should probably leave now, he had gotten what he came for, after all... but something was stopping him from walking out the door.

He glanced back at you, his gaze lingering on your face for a moment too long before he spoke up again. "I..uh, I should get going..."

"Y-yeah um-" you cleared your throat before continuing

"yea... thank you for...coming,"

He nodded in response, his heart beating a little faster as he realised that this was it, he was actually leaving.

"Yeah, no problem...thanks..for your number ..again." he mumbled, trying to hide the disappointment in his voice.

He started to slowly back away from the counter, his eyes still fixed on you. He didn't want to leave, he wanted to stay here and talk to you, but he knew he couldn't.

"I'll..see you around..." he finally managed to say, giving you one last glance before turning and making his way towards the door.

“Y-yeah..”

As you watched him leave you felt your heart flutter with nervousness... excitement...happiness..., you held on to your chest with quivered lips as you watched him leave.

He pushed the doors open, stepping out into the bustling mall. He could feel his heart beating faster than usual, his mind racing with thoughts of you. He put his hands in his pockets again, his fingers automatically tracing over the piece of paper that had your number.

He could still smell the faint scent of perfume and coffee lingering in his nostrils, a constant reminder of just how close he had been to you.

As he walked through the mall, he couldn't help but feel a sense of disbelief.

He, a villain, had just gotten the number of a cute, innocent worker. He smirked, a small chuckle escaping his lips as he thought about the whole interaction. It was so cliché, so movie-like, he felt like a damn fool. He had acted like a bumbling idiot almost the whole time, stuttering and blushing like a preteen boy with a crush.

He shook his head, trying to snap himself out of his thoughts. But no matter how much he tried, he couldn't forget the way you looked at him.

It replayed over and over in his mind, a never ending loop of your soft eyes and flushed cheeks.

As he continued to walk, he suddenly realised something.He had no idea what to do with your number.Sure, he had it now, but what was he supposed to do with it? Text you? Call you? He wasn't even sure if you'd actually respond.

He cursed under his breath, shoving his hands further into his pockets as he tried to figure out his next move. He considered just throwing the piece of paper away, it would probably save him a lot of trouble in the long run...

But as much as he tried to convince himself, he couldn't bring himself to do it. The thought of letting go of your number, of losing the only direct way he had of communicating with you, was too much for him to bear.

He needed that number, he had to have it. It was like some kind of sick obsession, the need to have this small piece of paper was driving him insane.

He grumbled to himself, frustrated by the conflicting emotions coursing through him. He didn't understand it, he didn't understand why he felt so drawn to you, why he felt this intense desire to have your attention. He had never felt like this before, not for anyone. It was like you had a hold on him, a power over him that he couldn't break free from.

He wasn't even sure if he wanted to break free, that's what worried him. He was becoming too attached to you, too obsessed...

As he continued walking, he suddenly caught sight of his reflection in a store window.

He looked a mess, his hair was sticking up at odd angles, his eyes were wide and dilated, and his cheeks were flushed red.

He quickly looked away, cursing under his breath again. Why did he look so damn flushed? Why was he acting like some love sick fool?

He gritted his teeth, feeling a wave of self loathing wash over him. It was pathetic, it was... embarrassing. He couldn't let anyone know how he was acting, they'd think he was weak, soft. It was bad enough that you had probably noticed his odd behaviour, if anyone else found out he'd never hear the end of it.

He had been walking for what felt like forever, his mind a tangled mess of thoughts and feelings. He was becoming frustrated, irritated at himself for being such a coward.

He had you number, he could text you right now if he wanted to... but he didn't know what to say.

He didn't want to come across as too forceful or inappropriate...

He let out an annoyed sigh, pulling the piece of paper out of his pocket again and staring down at the numbers scrawled on it.

He could feel the paper crumpling under his grip, his fist clenching subconsciously as he looked at it. as he stared down at the paper, reading the numbers over and over again, he knew it was pointless to try and deny it.

He was obsessed with you, completely and utterly obsessed. He couldn't go an hour without thinking about you, wondering what you were doing, if you were thinking about him...

He was a goner, and he knew it.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, quickly unlocking it placing in your number, opening up the messaging app.

He stared at the screen, watching the cursor blink silently as he tried to gather his thoughts.

What did he say? Should he be direct and straight to the point? Should he try to be casual and charismatic? Should he text you right away or wait until later?

He groaned in frustration, his fingers hovering over the keyboard but unable to type anything.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. He had to do this, he had to send you a message. It didn't matter what it said, as long as he got the chance to talk to you.

He started a new message, staring at the blinking cursor again.

"Hey" he typed, then immediately deleting it. No, that was too casual. Too generic. He needed something more unique, something that would grab your attention.

He tried again, his fingers moving furiously over the keys.

"Sup?" No, that was too casual. Too dismissive. He didn't want to sound disinterested.

He backspaced again, trying a different approach.

"Hello." No, that was too formal. Too abrupt. It would make him sound like a creep.

He cursed under his breath, struggling to find the right words to say.

He didn't want to come across as too desperate or too casual. He had to find the sweet spot, the perfect message that would get your attention without sounding clingy or creepy.

He tried again, his fingers trembling as he typed.

"Hey, it's me..." he typed, then quickly deleted it. No, that was too vague. That would make you question who he was.

He grumbled to himself, getting more and more frustrated by the second.

He knew he was overthinking this, making a mountain out of a molehill...

But something about you just made his brain turn to mush.

He took another deep breath, trying to steady his nerves.

He had to just bite the bullet and type something, anything. It didn't matter what, as long as it got the conversation started.

He typed quickly, before he had a chance to second guess himself.

‘It's Tomura.’ he wrote, then quickly typed another message.

‘The guy who came into the coffee store earlier.’

'Black hoodie and blueish hair?’ You replied in a instant.

He chuckled at your description, his heart fluttering a bit at the fact that you remembered what he was wearing.

'Yeah, that's me.' he typed, a small, barely noticeable smile gracing his lips.

[bluecollarmcandtf]

Construction Dog Co.

Each one of these dumb brutes belongs to me! They once had their own lives and careers, but I replaced all that with the blind obedience of a dog. My words dictate their reality, so they'll believe anything I say. That's why it seems perfectly normal for them to wait like this every morning. They'd kneel there all day if I let them, but they need to work eventually!

"Get off your knees, dogs! Hop to work! It's the only thing you're good for!" I yell it with venom, but I relish seeing my words soaking in into their minds. With just a simple command, I've convinced them all that they are animals, good only for hard work and manual labor.

The men rush to their feet, scrambling to pick up where they'd left off yesterday. I don't bother understanding the minor details of their day to day responsibilities. I have different boys programmed to manage all that crap for me. I really only bother watching them sweat their days away.

Being the supervisor can get a bit boring, especially after hearing, "Thank you, boss. I love you, boss," for like the seventh time in a day. It kind of loses it's meaning after awhile.

That's why I often use them for entertainment. Watch this!

"Hey, you two!" I call, pointing at two sweaty workers nearby, "You're in love with each other. Make out!"

Despite being hot and exhausted, the two men drop their tools and perk up. When they meet each other's eyes it's like they're seeing one another for the first time. They practically slam their bodies together in a race to each other's throat, and within seconds the two guys are lost in a world of dirt, saliva, and lust.

I do this with my men often, but who could blame me! I handpicked each one of them because they were strong and hot. If they're going to be hypnotized work slaves, then I need to enjoy how they look.

"You too aren't doing anything else but each other for the rest of the day," I command with a laugh, "Got it?"

"Yes, sir," their replies are moaned out between breaths.

A lot of my laborers were straight before they met me, but these two were creeps about it. I think I found them at the gym, hitting on girls between every set. I obviously enjoyed erasing their raunchy personalities. I find it even more enjoyable watching them grope and slobber over each other, knowing that those bodies would've never done that before I came along.

Those jagoffs are just the beginning of my day! I leave them after they've tumbled to the ground, humping each other like the dumb animals they are.

"You there!" I point to a different guy, quietly stacking blocks nearby, "Get over here and clean the floor as I walk. These Timberlands are brand new and I don't want mud on them."

"Yes, sir," the worker answers and rushes over, throwing himself to the ground before me.

I chuckle and study the poor loser in front of me. With just a few short words, I have him scrubbing a place for me to walk like I'm his king. I scoff in disbelief when I finally recognize who the guy was.

"Wait, are you that jerk from the bank?"

"Yes, sir," he admits quietly, keeping his head lowered towards his work.

"Well shit, you've come a long way! Can you believe that a week ago you were some fancy banker who tried to deny me a loan?" I give his head a little nudge with the toe of my shoe, "This is a much better place for you...uh... Robert...or was it Roger?"

"Reggie, sir," he quickly corrects me.

"Well, it doesn't matter anymore," I scowl at him, "Forget your name. You're just a construction dog, now. Understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Who are you?"

"I'm...I'm just a construction dog." I can tell he believes it now, too. I'm probably the only one here that knows his real name, and I'll definitely forget it within a few days.

"Good boy," I pat him on the head, "Now, you're going to stay ahead of me and keep clearing the floor for me to walk."

Reggie mumbles "Yes, sir," and crawls forward to scrub away the dirt in my immediate vicinity. Continuing on my tour, the poor guy struggles to keep up on all-fours, but a good work animal must get used to that position.

By the end of the day, my entire pack of men is sweaty and exhausted. I usually make them all work the maximum shift with no breaks, so it makes sense for them to be tired. Still, they are programmed to come and kneel before me, waiting to be dismissed. They're all a bit antsy for a rest, but I like to test their patience.

"Alright, boys. You're dismissed for the night."

With a collective groan, they climb back to their feet, marching off to the bunk house.

The bunk house is where I keep them when they aren't working. It might seem tight but each guy has enough room to sleep; although, I make them share because I don't want to purchase anymore bunk spaces. I don't really like to spend any money on them. They have access to the porta-john out back, but otherwise they aren't allowed to go anywhere else. I also only gave them the clothes they work in, so they sleep in them too.

Needless to say, it stinks in there. Between the heat, body odor, unwashed clothes, and lack of showers, they've created quite the stench. I avoid their home as much as I can, but sometimes my curiosity gets the best of me. This is the first time I've seen it in weeks.

"Come on boys, don't look so glum!" I chastise them, "Smile! Act like you're happy to see me!"

I watch as a switch goes in each of their minds. Slowly, they snap out of their foggy eyed depression, and light up. The energy of the room transforms as reassuring smiles spread across each of their manly faces.

"That's better! You boys are a tight-knit team! You love each other!" I add, "You don't mind the back-breaking work, or the smell, or anything as long as you're together."

The men become even more at ease, relaxing into the arms of their coworkers. My heart is warmed a little, seeing them getting along with each other so well. They're acting like energetic little puppies now.

I'm ready to leave them for the night. It's time for me to return to my luxury condo down the street, but before I do, I catch sight of one of my workers. An idea springs into my head.

"You, there. Come with me."

"Yes, sir," he answers, though he seems genuinely disappointed to be leaving his buddies.

I lead him outside and hose him off to remove at least some of the mud and sweat. We walk all the way to my apartment. Luckily, he's mostly dry by then so I take him inside.

"Is this going to take awhile, sir?" he asks nervously, "I'm pretty tired and my bedmate is going to sleep soon."

"Shut up and get on the bed," I command.

His mouth snaps shut and he obediently approaches my soft king bed, crawling onto it like I told him to. I sigh when I notice that the stupid oaf still tracked a lot of mud in. I'll have to make him clean it all up later.

"Now, you aren't going to speak or move unless I tell you too," I instruct, "But you will realize that anything I do will be exactly what you want: no matter what I do..."

He gazes back at me numbly.

"Tell me you understand."

"I understand, sir," he instantly repeats.

Tonight is going to be a long night for him. Too bad he still has to wake up early and report to work. I'm already planning on sleeping in. I don't mind keeping my workers waiting for a few hours while I rest. It's my company after all, and they're just dogs for labor...

[if-loves]

tug o’ war

// Yandere Aventurine, Yandere Topaz & slight Yandere Jade

sum: At the end of the day, they are just two hotheads. At least, that’s what your boss says.

wc: 1697

warnings: sexual assault, sexual harizzment /j, 2.3 story quest spoilers, inspired by the “checking out” quest, written before jade release, assumptions about what jade does LMAO and also maybe OOC aventurine, topaz, jade

a/n: what was i on

also tried to make it as gender neutral as possible, do let me know if i‘ve accidentally left in anything :)

likes & reblogs are appreciated :)

The scene in front of your door is quite the familiar sight.

“Maybe you wouldn’t find yourself in such dire need of a competent manager if you bothered going over the resumes sent to you!”

“Why do you even need another manager? You have plenty, you sure are just being greedy!”

Numby often wanders through your always slightly open door to get pets and little treats from you, probably having learned that Topaz arguing with that blonde haired extravagantly dressed Sigonian meant she would be there for awhile, and likely in front of your door. You didn’t mind being treated like a dispenser however, Numby was quite the adorable trotter. You ought to ask Topaz where she found Numby.

Chuckling to yourself, you shake your head at the idea. You barely have the time to breathe, where in the universe would you get the time to raise a trotter? Seeing Numby every once in a while would suffice. Lady Jade often gives you the brunt of the work, and although you would never even dream of saying no to her, sometimes you’d wish she’d pity you and give you a lighter load. But you suppose it’s alright, her giving you the hardest bits meant that she trusted you and your capabilities - at least, that’s what you tell yourself.

Their argument only seems to get louder, more jabs being carelessly thrown at each other without a second thought. It will only be a matter of time before they barge in, and things play out like how it always does - they’ll argue in front of you, then turn to you and ask who you’d rather work for. And as usual, your answer is always your Lady Jade. Then, their phones will beep, and they’ll glare one last time at each other and leave in opposite directions. You’ve never understood their obsession with recruiting you.

With a sigh, you continue your endless pile of work, stacks of files littering your office. The deal with Penacony meant that even more work was piled onto you, loans upon loans being processed by your hand and waiting to be signed off. Moments of relaxation are very rarely in your schedule, if at all. But the salary is good, your boss is beautiful and kind, and you get reimbursed for your modest apartment and all your meals and transportation. You don’t work on field like the Ten Stonehearts or the grunts do, staying in your office with papers and pens as your companions. All things considered, your life is pretty good.

Like clockwork, those two make their way into your office, scowls on their faces. It’s amusing how quickly their expressions change once they see you watching them, and if you didn’t know any better you’d think that they were mad at you.

“Good evening to you, (Y/n).” Aventurine doesn’t waste a second in his attempt of buttering you up, efficiently gaining the starting move.

“Mr Aventurine, Ms Topaz, it is a pleasure to see the two of you again. If I may ask, what brings you to my office?” You smile politely, setting down your pen. If you could just finish this stack, you could go home and flop onto your bed…

“Oh, nothing to be concerned about, I was just wondering if you would be so free as to accompany me to dinner on this fine night?” Topaz replies before Aventurine could, the white haired girl shooting a smug smile at the blonde who could only reply with his own.

“Thank you for the offer Ms Topaz, but unfortunately, I’ll have to decline your offer this time. Paperwork seems to come in like an endless waterfall, and I find myself working overtime more often than not.” You gesture to the stacks by your desk, shrugging helplessly.

“Is that so? Perhaps you should consider being my project manager. I’ve been looking for one, you see, and I think you would do a splendid job. How about a change of pace?” Aventurine swiftly cuts in, smiling charmingly, sandy blonde hair perfectly framing his face as if this were some television show.

“I’ll have to decline that, Mr Aventurine. I am quite happy with my current job.” Your smile is unwavering, but really, you just want to tell them to leave. They’re part of the Ten Stonehearts for Qlipoth’s sake, surely they have mounds of unfinished work to do?

“Hmm, I guess we’ll just have to resort to that.” Aventurine licks his lips and takes a few steps back, closing the door quietly, two clicks sounding. All of a sudden, you don’t feel so safe.

“What do you mean?” You nervously ask, eyes darting from one to the other. Surrounded by your files and papers and the two of them, you not only have no direct route to escape, you also stand no chance against them. Their expressions, like hungry wolves closing in on their prey, eye you greedily.

“As much as I hate dealing with this gambler, he offered me a proposal that even I couldn’t look away from.” Topaz says with a sigh. “He offered a once and for all proposal where we would decide who gets you. Of course I can’t divulge the details, but the only thing you really need to know is that you are the prize.”

“Before you can refuse and claim that you’re happy staying under Madam Jade, she has offered her own hand in this as well.”

It’s like all the air has been knocked out of you, leaving you gasping and dizzy. Proposals? Prize? You? How did this happen? How did you even get here? To have a worked your whole life for the IPC, dutifully doing each and every assigned job without even the slightest hint of refusal, and you, you get rewarded by being treated like something to be given, as if you weren’t even a human being but merely a prize to be given to the winner of this sick, sick deal?

“We only mean well, (Y/n).” Topaz tries to place her hand atop yours, perhaps an attempt to come across as reassuring, but yours immediately dart away as if having been burned. Fully standing up, you take several steps backwards until you hit the wall behind you. Ah, how could you forget - you're trapped.

With no regard for your personal space, each of them walks around the table to be by your side. They take each of your hands, and while Topaz places yours on her warm cheek, Aventurine brings yours to his beating heart. Each side reminds you that they are alive, conscious people who are willingly walking on this path of madness. There is no reasoning with madness.

“We have both lost much, but in return, we have gained much.” She whispers into your ear, and her warm breath reminds you once again that she is indeed alive. Your eyes are squeezed shut, your breaths labored and your heart pounds against your chest as if desperate to leave its confines. You feel her move, and all of a sudden you feel soft lips pressed against your cheek.

“The truth is, for the both of us…” He holds your hand tightly, his voice forlorn yet hopeful, and his lips too meet your cheek in a chaste kiss. When he parts, you can feel his stare. “You’ve become our meaning.”

They are both fierce in their competition to claim your lips, their hunger on full display as their free hands each glide over your body desperately. Their gloves are rough against your skin, sliding under your button up and down your pants, all while they continue their assault on the corners of your lips.

Just as they both inch closer to the middle, your eyes shoot open, the door creaks, and you are all met with a smiling Lady Jade.

“Oh? It seems that I’ve arrived at a bad time.” She chuckles, yet she makes no move to leave. If anything, she only walks forward, inching closer and closer to the three of you.

“Madam Jade.” Topaz and Aventurine both nod in acknowledgement, their cheeks rosy and hands still situated at their places. Neither of them makes any move.

“It seems that you two hot headed children have already made your moves. Ah, how rowdy the youth are these days.” The click of her heels against the cold floor only grows louder and louder, until they stop and she stands right in front of you, a finger on your chin, a snake-like smile on her face. Without an ounce of hesitation or fear, she leans down and places her soft lips on yours, and before you know it she has parted and left you in a daze.

“That’s hardly fair, Madam Jade.” Aventurine groans. “We did all the work, and you just took the reward.”

“Perhaps you of all people should know by now that when the opportunity arises, one should move before the others can even comprehend it.” She tuts, gently taking your hands from the other two. As if acknowledging their defeat, their previously roaming hands also depart from your body, albeit with a few quiet complaints from Aventurine.

“Madam Jade, to what do we owe the pleasure?” Topaz, always eager to please, smiles warmly at Jade.

“As much as I would have loved to continue the show, something urgent has come up. Something… that even I didn’t, or rather couldn’t expect.” Jade delicately pats you down, smoothing the wrinkles in your button up and running her hand through your hair.

“Oh? And what could that be?” Aventurine hums, his curiosity piqued.

“It seems that even Diamond would like to participate in our little game.”

[misteria247]

So I'm going to ramble a bit cuz I've been noticing that there's a lot of split opinions on Timmy Turner that rage from people adoring him flaws and all to people thinking that he's a little shit. So I decided to throw in my thoughts cuz it's been awhile since I've analyzed a character and I've got some thoughts fam lol. Please don't take this personally cuz this is just my opinion.

I think one of the main reasons why Timmy gets such a mixed reaction from fans is because a lot of his actual story is played like a sitcom. It's not placed in a more serious way, though there are moments where it is, it's quickly glossed over. If you take away the sitcom setting and the attempts of comedy and whatnot you actually get a rather horrible reality for this 10 year old boy. And with it suddenly a lot of his actions and attitude makes a lot more sense.

Timmy when introduced is a 10 year old. He's a child but he's also old enough to know the basics of right and wrong. Much like any kid. He gets his fairy godparents, Cosmo and Wanda because he was deemed to be a child in need of help. This whole scenario is played for laughs and whatnot but like, Timmy's life is actually horrid. He's abused by his babysitter, is tormented by school bullies, is essentially harassed by his teacher and is neglected by his own parents. This is his every day life, from the moment he was old enough to understand this was what he was exposed to and forced to accept. In a way Timmy was forced to grow up a bit faster because of it but not to a point where he completely lost the magic of childhood. When you think about this in a more serious way, things start to click together more.

Timmy's behavior when he gets snappy or creates mischief is a way to get attention from his parents. It's not a good kind but it's something. Or when he acts cold and selfishly, while it could be chalked up to being a kid, I could also argue that he might have actually learned it. Cause who else in his life puts their wants and desires before others? Who else doesn't think about the consequences of their actions and how it'd effect others? Who else ignores other people's thoughts and feelings when it comes to things?

His parents.

Timmy's parents do this shit constantly. From leaving him with abusive babysitters, to not really interacting with him, to making jabs about how their dreams died when he was born to a bunch of other shitty things. They forget to feed him and always criticize him, they're always jumping at the chance to essentially get away from him. All these things are things Timmy's witnessed and has been on the receiving end of for a decade. And never once does his parents really suffer any consequences. It's a known fact that children watch their parents and absorb information from it. Timmy's behaviors can very well be behaviors he unintentionally learned from them. Which is so sad because whenever Timmy's not acting like this, it's quite clear that he's actually incredibly different.

It becomes clear that Timmy's actually incredibly kind.

There's so many moments where he shows his kindness. From lending Cosmo and Wanda to Tootie, to helping fairies in Fairy World to literally giving his fairies the baby they always wanted to saving the whole world several times with little hesitation. Timmy at his core is a kind boy, but due to his home life and its constant reminders of the people in his life not wanting him. (Hell there was a whole ass episode about the world being better if he hadn't been born, like can you imagine that, it's fucking awful-). So in a way Timmy hides that kindness and rarely shows it because of these things.

Which is why Cosmo and Wanda and eventually Peri are so fucking important.

Cosmo and Wanda from the very beginning where different from everyone else. These fairies while granting some reckless and dangerous wishes, have always had Timmy's best interests in mind. Cosmo and Wanda are the positive influences that Timmy desperately needs, the adults that he actually needs to help encourage and push him towards the right direction. Cosmo and Wanda are always in Timmy's corner, even when he's made a mistake, and are always there to catch him and remind him that he's loved and wanted. In one episode where Timmy sneaks into his godparents castle, at the end when they're putting the picture of Maryann back into the hall of infamy, Timmy's first reaction is to apologize and believe that because he'd made this one mistake that he'd end up there with the other bad kids. Only to immediately be told no, baffling Wanda and Cosmo with the very idea of it.

It's things like this that help Timmy grow and feel comfortable with making mistakes. Cuz what he thought isn't exactly a normal thing. They help Timmy in so many ways and grow to love him as their very own cuz when Timmy allows himself to be well himself he's a rather endearing kid. It's no surprise they get so attached.

There's a lot of other things that I've got in my noggin but I just wanted to say these things for the time being. Maybe I'll update on this later lol.

[kassiekole22]

Joy Ride

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

Pairing: Brian O'Conner X Fem!Reader

Description: Brian finds you walking home late one night and offers you a ride, which turns into a night-long joy ride around Miami.

Warnings: Fluff, Speeding, Friends Or Future Lovers? (You Decide)

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: Sooooo, I watched 2 Fast 2 Furious for the first time a around a month ago and this guy has been on my mind ever since. I have always really loved Paul Walker so this was bound to happen eventually. 😂 I don't know if I plan to write more for him or if this will just be a one time thing, but I have been working on this fic for quite some time now and I'm happy to finally be posting it. More to come from other beloved characters soon! Enjoy the fic and if you want more Brian O'Conner fics in the future, let me know in the comments or inbox! 🖤 (Also did any of you get the reference in the name? 👀)

Main MasterList: 🖤

Kassie's Angels: @mornandil, @lorebite.

(If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know in the comments! 🖤)

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

2002

The air is pretty cool for a night in Miami, but I don't mind. I walk with my hands in the pockets of my hoodie, protecting them from the slight chill. It's nothing too intense, but I haven't been used to being in cooler temperatures for awhile now.

I walk quickly down the sidewalk as a few cars pass from time to time. The sounds of their engines make my fingers and feet tingle a little, my body missing the feeling of the steering wheel gripped in my fingers and the gas pedal under my foot.

I wrecked pretty badly during my last race, resulting in my car becoming too banged up to drive. Most street racers have other cars to fall back on. Unfortunately for me, my girl was all I had. Now I'm left to walk on foot until I can get enough money to fix her.

The ambiance in the street is pretty calm until I hear the familiar rumble of a very specific engine approaching my side. To my surprise, that iconic silver and blue Nissan Skyline pulls up, slowing down to drive at my walking speed. But the slick paint job or glowing underbody isn't what makes it difficult to look away. The driver is none other than the man who beat me in my last race, Brian O'Conner.

I'm met with a kind smile as he rolls down his windows, his bright blue eyes glancing up at me from the shadows of the interior. There is just something about that man that draws me in. I could never tell what exactly it was, but it pulled me in his direction like a bee to a flower every time I was in the same location as him.

"Ey, need a ride?" He queries in a rasied voice, nearly shouting over the Skyline's growl.

Though it's tempting, I don't want to throw a wrench in any plans he may have. Knowing him, he has another street race or date to get to at this hour. So, despite the aching pain in my feet that is screaming in protest, I respond casually, "Nah, man. I'm good. Home's not too far away anyway, y'know?"

Even though it wouldn't take him too long, it would be pretty pointless to drive only a couple blocks anyway. He takes a mere second to let my words sink in and find an answer, his eyes hopeful as they are taken off the road and landing on me once more.

"We don't gotta take you home. The night's still—" He checks his watch, and his eyes widen slightly as he realizes the time. "—Well, middle-aged, but that don't gotta stop the fun."

I can't contain a faint chuckle at his dumb joke, rolling my eyes as I do so. The next thing I know, my feet are subconsciously coming to a stop, and he gently lays on the brakes. His car is also stopping right beside where I now stand, but the engine still purrs softly to alert all of its consciousness.

"Ah, c'mon, girl. Let's live a little, eh?" He flashes me that dangerous half-smirk that beckons me forward into mischief. It now dawns on me that he might not have the intention of taking me home, which is intriguing in a way.

I contemplate my options for a moment. The only thing waiting for me at home is a couple bottles of beer and some cold pizza left in the fridge from the night prior. It seems like I've been spending most of my time alone lately. Maybe it would be good to spend some time in good company.

"Alright," I give in with a subtle but still noticeable sigh, backing down in my mental debate.

He reaches across and opens the passenger door for me as I round the car, its headlights illuminating me for a brief moment as I cross in front of the bumper before hoping into the seat offered to me. It felt weird being in the left seat and not having a steering wheel before me. I could never get used to those foreign imported cars. 

But regardless, it sure is a beauty. The leather interior smells oddly fresh and calming, with a faint hint of exhaust filtering through the open windows. It's clear he just cleaned her up. Brian was always the type to take care of his rides.

I pull the seatbelt across my chest and lock it in securely, mentally preparing myself for the wild ride I know damn well he is about to take me on. He looks at me and flashes me that cocky yet proud smile as he revvs the engine for only a moment before taking off into the night.

With windows down and speed carrying us, I feel like I'm floating on air. The soft breeze I felt only moments ago is now a fast wind in my hair, and the soft ambiance of the nightlife in Miami is now disturbed by a machine growl.

I glance over at him, and it's as if time slows for just a minute as I take in how happy he is. He's a simple man. He doesn't need the fancy things in life, just a fast car to make the corners of his lips part into that iconic grin I have grown to love.

"Wanna get fuckin' nuts?" He asks me, his voice taking me out of my thoughts and putting me back into reality. That's when I notice that mischievous look in his ocean blue eyes, their pupils blown wide with adrenaline.

Hm... Blue and full of adrenaline, like the blood pumping in our veins.

"What?" I blurt out, not fully comprehending what he is asking, until my gaze wanders down to where his thumbs hovers over the nitro buttons.

I look at the road ahead, seeing that it is completely barren of all life, and I can't help but smirk at the thought of what he is suggesting. It's a dangerous game—playing with speed in such a way—but a thrilling one, for sure.

Taking my eyes off the road ahead to look back at him, I notice the hopeful glint once again in his eyes, only pushing my thought process toward wanting to comply. So without a second breath, I cheer, "Fuck yeah!"

With a simple click of two buttons at once, we are off like a rocket in space. Suddenly, the street lights look like comets, and the lines on the road are just blurs of colors. It's oddly beautiful in a way, and I marvel at how it ignites my soul with such a unique feeling, which I can't possibly seek from anything else. My fingers dig into the sides of my seat as my heart pounds against my ribcage like thunder, both overwhelmed but thirsty for more of this intoxicating rush.

Though Brian only lets this last for a moment, just seconds passed that will remain with me for an eternity. We laugh as the car slows to a semi-normal speed again. My smile is so wide, I can feel my face begin to hurt.

But I don't care. I am just so high on the thrill that my mind is lost in a cloudy space of euphoria. It's crazy how the night went from a quiet walk home to taking a joy ride with one of my rivals, but I wouldn't have it any other way.

Once our laughter dies down, the soft purr of the engine is the only thing heard yet again as we both seemingly get lost in our own thoughts. What is he thinking? I wish I knew. The only thing on my mind is how happy I am. It isn't until a couple minutes later that he speaks his mind, taking a deep breath before his lips finally form the words he has been pondering.

"We should do this more often," he suggests in that nonchalant tone he carries quite regularly for someone with such excitement in his life. "Y'know, hang out outside the racing world? You're a cool girl."

I can't repress how my smile softens for a moment at his words as my eyes flick over in his direction while a million responses filter through my mind. This guy is a legend—a local celebrity, if you will. To have this opportunity is an honor. However, I don't necessarily get the vibe of entitlement from him. Instead, his atmosphere reflects something else—something friendly and inviting.

"And you're a cool guy. I'd love to hang with you more often." I reply, trying to sound chill but coming off way more sincere than intended. Though he doesn't seem to mind, in fact, he seems to be pleased with my response.

The next thing I know, he is pulling into a public beach. Its sands are abandoned by any human life due to the lateness of time, though the footprints of the visitors that day still remain like ghosts of the past, their memories carved in the sand until they get washed away by the waves.

He locks the car in park, unhooks his seatbelt, and gets out. I watch through the windshield as he rounds the side of it to rest back on the hood. My eyes study him as he lifts himself to sit on the hood, not once looking back to see if I leave the car as well. It's almost as if he expects me to.

So to fulfill his silent expectations, I swing my door open and hop out after freeing myself from my seatbelt, nearly stumbling as the ground is unexpectedly unsteady where I stand. My feet sink into the sand, and I'm grateful I chose to wear boots tonight over anything else.

Once out of my sticky situation, I take a moment to appreciate the freshness in the air—the sweet smell of the ocean before me for just a second. After approaching him, I rest beside him on the hood, watching the waves crash before us. It reminds me that life is quite like the sea. It's unpredictable, a little scary at times, but beautiful in many unique ways. I release a soft breath, my body relaxing in this calming moment.

"I remember the first time I saw you pull up in that black Trans Am to the race. Fuckin' engine and bass on your stereo roaring over the sound of the crowd." He chuckles while he reminisces about old memories.

"Buni," I correct him as I smile fondly, thinking about the beauty that's currently under a tarp in my garage, just waiting to be repaired and set free on the road once again.

"Yeah, Buni." He parrots me in an almost teasing way. I know he finds the fact that I named my car ridiculous, but I can see it in his eyes that it amuses him all the same. "You're something else, (L/N). A damn good racer, though."

My heart flutters at the compliment, and I feel my cheeks heat up with this familiar warmth that only he ignites in me best. The soft breeze blows through my hair as I think of a reply, running through my strains like an angel's fingertips. But it's not the breeze nor the location that has me in such a calm and joyful state.

I continue to study him—the way his blonde curls blow in the breeze, the corners of his lips turning up ever so slightly to show his contentment, his biceps flexing ever so slightly as he crosses his arms over his chest. It amazes me how all the different shades of blue in his iris reflect the scene before us. It's like I could literally drown in them each time I gaze into them to admire their beauty.

"Yeah? You and your Skyline ain't so bad either." I finally quip with a small bit of sarcasm dripping from my tone after forcing myself out of where my mind has disappeared to for a short time. He smiles softly at my words, because it's evident how I really feel about him. He knows, and I know that, but I don't really care anymore.

We talk until sunrise and watch as the black sky fades into orange and pink, blending with the stars to make them barely visible. Though they are out of sight, I know they still shine brightly above us, like angels waiting for us in heaven. It's quite special—maybe even magical.

The sea reflects the morning sun as it rises from the horizon, its golden rays shining upon us as we remain on the hood of the car. It's just us out here in our own little world. If I learned anything from last night, it's not the place that makes a moment special, but the person you share it with.

I don't know where this road will take us. I know it will be a long one—with plenty of traffic and bumps ahead—but the ride will be an enjoyable one with a new friend in the seat next to me as we speed through it all. And if we happen to get separated some point along the way, I know in my heart that I'll see him again.

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

[misomiho]

𝙅𝙅𝙆 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙗𝙪𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖 𝙜𝙞𝙛𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙜𝙞𝙛𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮'𝙡𝙡 𝙜𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𖤐⭒๋࣭

Part 1 ☆Part 2

Genre: sfw and tooth rotting fluff

Pairing: JJK x Fem!Reader |Inumaki, Nanami,Maki,Okkotsu|

A/N: hi! this is like my first time ever to post after half a year :[ I'm so sorry!

𝙄𝙣𝙪𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙞 𝙏𝙤𝙜𝙚 ⭑

→He was panicking inside a little bit, poor boy. You always shared everything with him and always liked everything you came in contact with so it's impossible to narrow everything in to one.

→He was rummaging through his things when a magazine with a guitar picture imprinted on it flew on top of his head, that gave him an idea.

"Inumaki, here's the thing you asked for..!"

"salmon"

"Is it for (Y/N)..?!"

"salmon"

"Ohh, didn't know you were that romantic!"

"bonito flakes!"

→He gave you a guitar pick he customized himself, he always loved how your voice sounded and the way you strang the guitar's strings. He badly wanted to tell you how your voice is so angelic.

𝙉𝙖𝙣𝙖𝙢𝙞 𝙆𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙤 ⭑

→Kento is an old fashioned guy, romantic I might say. He didn't find it hard to give you the gifts that would make your heart squeeze.

→He pondered on how you always seemed to like flowers but he already gave you one last time so he found a way to give you one but with a twist.

"Is this all the flowers, sir..?"

"Yes but I have a question in mind"

"May I hear it..?"

"Do you mind teaching me about flower arrangements? I can pay for the lesson"

"Oh..no need sir! I am willing to teach you so"

→What he made isn't exactly the best (in his opinion) but the effort, time, and love he put in to them is more than enough to make you happy.

𝙕𝙚𝙣𝙞𝙣 𝙈𝙖𝙠𝙞 ⭑

→She didn't really specialize in this kind of things since picking one always ends up in a calamity. She remembered how she gave you a weapon once as a gift.

→She was about to head out when a paper slipped past infront of her. It was one of your sketches of her.

"Oh no, I'm out of paper in my sketchbook..!"

"I'm not surprised, you're always sketching every second"

"How can I not when you're so pretty to draw"

"..."

"It's true..!"

→Maki gave you another sketchbook, a thicker one where it would take awhile to ran out of paper. She secretly likes it when you draw her.

𝙊𝙠𝙠𝙤𝙩𝙨𝙪 𝙔𝙪𝙩𝙖 ⭑

→He almost forgot! probably because of how stressed he was and was worrying about what you would've liked.

→He asked Maki for advice! he thought that since you're both girls, she might be able to help pick one for you!

→They were both chaotic as hell, Maki even teased him a little bit when Yuta finally saw the 'perfect' gift.

"Yutaaaa! this is so adorable...!"

"I'm sorry, it was kind of rushed and-"

"No..! I like it and it's the best, I can now have something to cuddle with"

"That kind of hurts, I'm here you know..."

"Well..."

"Hey..!"

"I'm kidding..! I have an exception for you!"

→He gave you a plushie of your favorite animal, he once saw you admiring principal Yaga's cursed corpses and recalled how you wanted one of them! it was not as cool as the ones imbued with curse energy but it was special to you nonetheless.

[ladykailitha]

The Caged Bird Still Sings Part 5

Hello, hello, hello! And we have completed the set this week! All for stories getting new and beautiful chapters. Though, with WIP Wednesdays spilling into Thursdays, I might change up my posting schedule a bit to accommodate the influx of asks.

But we'll see.

Here we see Steve dealing with a wild Karen or Linda as they were called in the 80s (at least out where I lived). Yep! We've always had a name for busybodies. It's just changed with the times.

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4

~

Steve had to throw out the rest of his food, it having gone cold while he was on the phone with Dustin and his mom.

He sighed in annoyance, but it couldn’t be helped. He could hear his mother now, just screaming about all the wasted food and all the starving children in Africa who would have appreciated that meal he just wasted.

Thankfully she was in whatever fresh hell Dad had dragged her off to after he threw him out.

He decided the best thing to do after all that was to go to the gym and run on a treadmill for awhile and just turn off all those dark thoughts swirling in his brain. So he got dressed in cropped swim team t-shirt and a pair of old basketball shorts. He pulled out his favorite sneakers and grabbed his room key.

He got some string and tied it to his wrist so he wouldn’t lose it while he was exercising and not be able to get back into his room. He wasn’t even sure the hotel knew who it was that was actually staying in the room with everything under Eddie’s name.

He made his way to the gym, but as he went through the hotel he noticed people staring at him and not in the fun way.

The women would sneer and the men would look down their noses at him. He tugged on the crop top, a little insecure now. By the time he got the gym he as ready to turn tail and run back to his hotel room.

But he stopped at the glass door to their very state of the art gym. The people inside were all dressed similarly to what he was wearing. He looked back into the hallway and thought about all the other patrons that looked down at him.

Steve squared his shoulders. He was used to this kind of bullshit. He had got from his parents, their friends, and hell even his own friends over the years every time he tried coloring outside of the lines.

Well fuck them. He had every right to be here, same as them. He yanked open the door and got situated on the treadmill nearest to the door, set it to a low speed and began to walk.

Once he got into the rhythm he switched up to a slow jog, then a full on run. He slowed it back down and counted out his heart rate.

“I think you have the wrong time, honey,” this sickeningly sweet voice said from behind him. “The help are only allowed use of the facilities after the guests have gone to bed.”

Steve paused the treadmill and turned around to face her. She was blond woman covered head to toe in pink! Pink tracksuit, pink tennis shoes, pink headband, even pink sunglasses. Though why she needed those, he didn’t know. It wasn’t that bright in here.

“You think I’m staff?” he asked incredulously. “What on earth gave you that idea?”

She looked up and down his body and sniffed in disdain. “The high school phys. ed attire for a start, darling. Then there’s the...” she waved at his body. His very tanned, muscular, lean body. “All of you.”

Steve put his hands on his hips and raised an annoyed eyebrow. “Look, honey,” his emphasis on the last word, throwing it back at her, “you’re probably not from here. But my parents are very rich and you are just some biddy who thinks bullying people is acceptable. Which it really isn’t, no matter what your tax bracket is.” He looked her up and down. “Which judging from the fact your track suit is from two seasons ago? Theirs is bigger than yours.”

The woman sputtered and fumed but Steve just hopped of the treadmill and got a water bottle from the courtesy fridge, downing quickly. He threw it in the trash and without a word or even so much as a backward glance, he strolled out of the gym with his head held high.

God, that felt good.

Of course the only reason he knew it was two years out of date was because his mom bought one then, wore it once, and then threw it in the back of her closet never to be seen again. Which, he thought with a huff, was probably what she wanted to do with him, if he was honest.

He got up to his hotel room and untied the key from his wrist to unlock his door. He stepped into the cool sanctuary of the black marble and brass fittings. It wasn’t a style he would pick out for himself, but there was something about the black and brass that reminded him of Eddie in a way. Dark and bright at the same time.

Steve spotted the package right off the bat this time. He walked over to the black gift bag and took over to the sofa. He opened it to find a box of chocolate raspberry truffles, a small jewelry box, and a nice black wallet.

He opened the chocolates first and took a bite. The tart of the raspberry hit his tongue first and then richness of dark chocolate. Fuck they were good. Steve forced himself to just eat the one. Otherwise the whole box would be gone in an instant.

He pulled out the wallet next. It had cash as well as shiny black credit card in his name. Well, he supposed since Eddie was loading cash on it, it was more like a debit card, but still it was black. Not even his parents had a black card. He could spend whatever he wanted and Eddie would pay for it.

Not that he would. God no. But Christ, he could, he absolutely could. He ran his fingers over the shiny surface in awe. Then he counted the money and he closed his eyes. There was about a thousand dollars in there. Five crisp one hundreds, ten crisp twenties, twenty tens, and twenty fives. The wallet could barely close it was so stuffed.

Steve could not spend the money and Eddie would never know. He could barely use the card, but Eddie would know that and be concerned why he wasn’t getting everything he needed and send more money. Plus, Steve had a pretty good idea what the smaller bills were for anyway. Tipping. The wait staff, housekeeping. Things that were polite to do when other people were doing everything for you.

It also meant that if he wanted to he could go out a buy booze if he ever just wanted a beer. Because it was within the bounds of Eddie’s rule. Don’t use the card to buy booze, no mention of his cash, so...

Steve set the wallet aside and made sure to remember to call down to the front desk for the combination to the room safe. He knew there was one. Especially in a place like this. He pulled out the little white jewelry box and opened it. Inside set in gold was a little bird pendant on a gold chain. Steve held it up to the light and marveled at it as it spun, glinting in the light.

He put the necklace on and continued to marvel at it on his neck. It was beautiful. He set the rest of it aside and bounced up. He flopped on the bed and picked up the phone, dialing Eddie’s number.

“Hello?” an unfamiliar voice answered.

“Oh!” Steve cried. He never expected someone else to answer the phone. “It’s Steve, I’m calling for Eddie.”

“Oh, shit!” the voice said. “I thought it was my phone that was ringing. Sorry, man. I’ll get him for you.”

A moment later Eddie was on the line. “Little Canary, if you only call me when I send you pretty gifts, I’m going to have to up my game and send them more often.”

“Oh!” Steve cried again. “Sorry about that. Everything has been happening all at once. I was going to call you when I got back from the gym, but I saw your gift first.”

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” Eddie soothed. “I was only mostly teasing.”

Steve laughed and shook his head. “But everything was amazing by the way. Those chocolates were to die for and I really loved the necklace.”

“No mention of the wallet I see,” Eddie said with a chuckle. “I can stop sending you money if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“Oh, no,” Steve said in a rush, “I am a little uncomfortable with it, but more because I don’t have a safe place to keep it right now then because you gave it to me. I appreciate the money to be able to start tipping the staff.”

“That’s a relief,” Eddie said. “I was worried I might be overstepping with the cash. I’m glad it all shook out okay. So tell me about the gym. You’ll never catch me in one and I’m curious.”

Steve told him all about the trip down and the bitch on top of how great the gym was.

“That bitch,” Eddie agreed when he was done. “She was jealous on how good you look, baby.”

“Of that I have no doubt,” Steve agreed. “The way she turned purple when I told her her outfit was out of fashion was just the icing on the cake.”

Eddie hummed and went on to talk about how the last two days were back to back concerts and how tired he was.

“You’re taking care of yourself, too?” Steve asked. “You want to take care of me, but who’s taking care of you?”

Eddie’s smile could be felt through the line when he said, “My band. There’s Gareth, who answered the phone. He’s our drummer, then there’s Jeff, he’s rhythm guitar and lead vocals–”

“What’s rhythm guitar?” Steve asked. “Is it a different instrument?”

“No,” Eddie explained, “but I can see why you might think that.” Then he went on to explain what it meant and why Eddie was lead guitar and backup vocals. “I can sing fine, but Jeff? He’s got a real talent for it. Gives us a unique edge. And then the last and certainly not the least is Brian who’s on bass.”

“First base?” Steve teased.

“What’s that, sweetheart?”

Steve snickered. “Who’s on first? That old timey comedy sketch about baseball?”

He could hear Eddie snap his fingers. “That’s right. Wrong kind of bass though. And it is a separate instrument, but not to be confused with a upright bass. Which are those weird, big violin looking thingies.” He went on to describe the differences between a bass and a guitar.

“Oh it’s like a violin and a viola,” Steve said, “they may look similar but they aren’t the same.”

Then it was Eddie’s turn to be confused, so Steve explained.

“See, little Canary,” Eddie said after he was done. “You’re plenty smart. And sadly I have to go. But I want you to call me more often, okay?”

“Aye, aye!” Steve said with a jaunty salute.

“You menace,” Eddie huffed fondly. “Bye, Stevie.”

“Bye, Eddie.”

After they hung up Steve picked up the pendant and looked at it again. A little canary. Well then.

He got up and decided that it was time for lunch and maybe pay his cousin a little visit. He needed news. News only Monty could provide.

~

Part 6 Part 7

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @beelze-the-bubkiss

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @justforthedead89 @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @sticknpokelightningbolt

9- @scoops-aboy86 @kurofuckingshi16 @watermelonmite @eyehartart @dreamercec

10- @little-birch-boy @yearningagain @micheledawn1975 @blondie1006 @sadisticaltarts

[love-toxin]

Sightseeing -> Navia

plot: you only came to Fontaine for a vacation, but you may not be leaving without some added baggage.

(cws: yan!navia, gn!darling, implied friends -> forced lovers, navia bein a bit weird & creepy, neediness, mention of drugging, preamble to kidnapping)

wc: 1.4k

At times, you often wished you had been born in this beautiful place. The cool, clear waters of Fontaine lapped at the sands just down the hill from where you stood, the same crystal-blue colour as the cloudless sky that passed overhead. The people and the city were one thing, they were impressive in their own industrious and elegant ways; but the sea was the real reason you came to Fontaine. You couldn't live the rest of your life without getting at least a glimpse of the exotic beauty of such a place. 

The call of your name soon broke you from your reverie however, and you turned your head to spot the golden-haired doll of a woman you had been travelling with thus far. She was kind, and she was a beauty all in her own right, but you tensed at the sight of her hurrying up the hill with her handlers at her sides. Your chin tilted back to face the open waters, and you took in one last deep, cleansing breath of fresh air before you would be set upon by your tour guide and newest friend. 

“There you are!” Navia puffed from the exercise with a smile on her soft, ruby-stained lips. “I worried for you, you know! I was afraid you'd gotten lost. Why did you just wander away, my sweet?”

Those adoring pet names were endearing, of course, if not just the slightest oddity from a woman you didn't know particularly well. But you just offered her a smile and an excuse off the top of your head, not wanting to pain such a lovely, generous soul as she. 

“I just saw a good view and wanted to take it in. My apologies, miss Navia.” 

She shook her head with a huff. “Oh! You and your formalities. I told you, the ‘miss’ isn't needed! You can call me by my name, darling.” She sidled up close to you, her dress clinking with all manner of jewel-studded trinkets as she moved. With a wave of her hand, she sent her handlers further down the hill to ease up and give both of you some space. “Well, let's see this view, then.” 

Overhead, the breeze whistled gently as it flowed through the trees at your backs. You turned your gaze away from Navia and back towards the sea–but you felt hers drift towards you instead, the beautiful view lost on her as she focused her gentle eyes on you instead. 

“...You know, if you ever wanted to live in Fontaine-”

“My home is elsewhere, Navia.” An ill feeling fell over your heart at cutting her off so abruptly, but you knew her enough by now to know that she wouldn't stop once an idea was in her head. She would keep going and going and going until she achieved whatever goal she decided on, and unfortunately for her your permanent residence here was not up for debate. You had family back home, friends, a life; and no matter how much you enjoyed your time with her, that would not supercede the loves and responsibilities you had back home. “I'm sorry.”

She turned her head away, effortlessly concealing the fall of her expression as she finally focused her gaze towards where yours was. With a sigh, she said nothing, just stared out at the ocean's crystalline waters and the smooth stone arches of the aquabus lines, all converging on the magnificent palaces of Fontaine's capital city rising out from the blue. Between the sky and the sea, the city much resembled a pearl cushioned between two halves of a giant, aquamarine oyster shell. 

The two of you stood there for quite awhile, looking out across the rippling sea. Even from up high you could smell the salt from where fresh and seawater mingled together, and the splashes of ocean birds and fish hopping up and out of the water each caught your eye. It was as if every moment you watched something new was unfolding. That was why you loved the sea, and why you were sure Navia was trying so desperately to pull you back towards it. 

“I'm leaving for home tomorrow morning.” From your peripheral, you caught sight of her flinching and whipping her head to stare at you, eyes wide with panic for only as long as it took you to return her gaze–by then she had steeled herself, though she still couldn't contain her tight-lipped frown. “Will you take me to the port? I'd like you to be the last sight I take in before I leave.” You smiled at her, and though the thought of you leaving so soon clearly still disturbed her, she could barely help the giddy twinkle in her eyes at having you show her such a beautiful smile. Just for her. That was how she saw it. 

“When will you be back?” Her voice rang so timidly now, so unlike her usual boldness that it took you aback. But you offered her some meager reasoning of ‘whenever you next had time’ and ‘so long as you had the mora’ and she believed everything she wanted to believe. In her mind, you were sure the best day for you to return would be the soonest you could possibly manage. She agreed albeit sadly, and you nudged her shoulder in a bid to cheer your new friend up. 

“Hey, it's okay. I'll return soon, alright? Maybe you can even come visit me in my home sometime, when things cool down over there. Then I could show you around my own hometown.” Emboldened, perhaps by Navia's own friendliness and candor she'd shown since you'd arrived, you reached out and swept a strand of her golden hair from her eyes. Your hand came to rest just by her cheek–but before you could pull it away, she reached up her own and held yours there, her breath hitched on her parted lips. 

“Promise?” She pleaded, eyes wide and so sweet your heart ached. “You won't leave me?”

“Not forever.” You shook your head, a bit surprised at her eagerness but still not without your comforting smile. “We had too much fun together for me not to come back.” 

You could've sworn she mouthed “Oh, thank Archons,” as she tilted her head back in bliss, only to tilt it back down with an eruption of laughter that–for some reason–left you with a sense of unease at how erratic and played-out it was. But again, her oddities seemed just that to you, and you would once again brush off a warning sign that you would later learn the terrifying consequences of. She squeezed your hand harder, and a soft yelp off your lips was the only reason she let it go though her grip felt like it would never loosen otherwise. 

“Then come! Let's return to Poisson–we must have a celebration in your honour. Snacks and all! We have to send you off the right way, don't you think?” Navia linked arms with you as the moment passed, and before you could get one last look at the view you'd been longing to see for this whole trip, she began dragging you down the hill back towards her handlers, who would then guide the two of you back down the path towards the little, hidden village. 

You were such a sweet, gentle soul, the most tender Navia had ever had the pleasure of meeting. You were more intriguing than the Traveler, more elegant than the Justice; beautiful and glorious in equal measure, more poised than even her own Archon. Yes, it was on par with blasphemy, but it was truth in Navia’s eyes–you were more than all of Teyvat’s most incredible people combined, none of them could even hold a candle to you. And for that, she would ensure you would not slip out of her grasp. She would find a way. 

She had a whole night, a whole banquet, and plenty of trust from you that you would never suspect your friend of anything. Something poured in your drink, a well-timed execution of play-acting to frighten you, and perhaps you would fall into her arms without her even having to lift a finger. 

[milliesfishes]

⋆౨ৎ𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓢𝓮𝓪 𝓲𝓼 𝓑𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭𝓵𝓮𝓼𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓢𝓸 𝓐𝓻𝓮 𝓦𝓮⋆౨ৎ

[fem reader] contains: angst, panic attack pairing: finnick odair x fem reader summary: you have a breakdown and Finnick comforts you author’s note: first Finnick fic! I hope I did it right <3 Pinterest Board Spotify Playlist

Salt spray stung your eyes as you kicked off your sandals, shifting your feet into the grainy sand, warm from a day's worth of the sun's attention. Waves were lapping at the shore, foam left behind like a crown each time the water retreated and rebounded. Sunset shot colors across the sea's reflection like a splayed hand, holding your gaze for a moment before you began the trek forward.

It was a routine you had never set, but you found yourself doing it every night anyways. After the stresses and tensions of the day clawed at your mind, the ocean was the only thing that could ease it. You supposed it was your homeland bound to you, beckoning with open arms. This was where you felt most at ease- you would have buried yourself in the sand and let the water eat at your body if you could.

Tonight, it was different. Tonight, the reason you'd discarded your shoes and went to walk along the jagged shoreline was paramount, worse than any of your miniscule trials from times before. You'd abandoned the envelope on the kitchen counter, flinging the door open before another thought could cross your mind.

Footprints sunk into the sand as you trudged to the water, hoping it would give you some kind of relief, like a life force you merely needed to come back to every once in awhile. Words echoed back and forth across your mind, like objects sliding across the surface of a rocking boat.

From the moment your name had been called at the Reaping, your senses had been heightened, unfortunately including the choking vines of anxiety. It had only worsened in training, climaxed when you were in the arena. Here in the feigned safety of the aftermath, you were dealing with the consequences. You tried to reassure yourself that this kind of news would upset anybody, but it only made you feel worse. This was how the world was. Your tired, stretched-thin mind couldn't seem to get that through.

A shout of your name disturbed your peace, and you tore your eyes from the rolling waves, turning around. The dress you wore tangled around your calves with the gentle breeze, hair following the same path. In the distance you could see a familiar silhouette, lifting a single hand and waving.

You recognized him. Of course you did. Even if his figure was blackened by the shade and buried underwater you would know.

Jogging forward, Finnick slowly but surely made his way over, the sand hindering what would have been swift movements otherwise. He must have come to the door of your home and seen it ajar, guessing the only other place you would be. As he approached, you could see the worry causing the sea blue in his eyes to darken with a storm, his golden hair messy as if he'd run his hands through it. You made no move to reach for him. What was the point if you would be forced to let go sooner than you wanted to?

He grasped at your arms once they were in reach, golden fingers probing at your smooth skin. "Baby...hey...I know it seems bad-"

"Bad?" Your voice was dry and he winced at it just a little. Looking away with some difficulty, you swallowed your tears. "They're sending you back. This is worse than bad."

"I know, I know." Finnick attempted to pull you into him, console you the way he'd done a million times before, but you resisted, lifting your gaze back up to him.

"How many times before they're satisfied?" you whispered, voice edging on a sob. "You're tied to them...they...they'll only keep pulling you back again and again and again."

"It's the Capitol's way," he said firmly, but not with anger. When Finnick got like this, he was steady as the cliffs above, your rock through and through. "Honey...I can't say no."

"Why?" You said it so desperately that he bowed his head briefly. Now you were moving in, tugging at his shirt. "Why do you let them ship you off? Why do you let them make you do such horrible things?"

Finnick's hand found your back, the warmth of his palm pressing into your spine. It was a tactic he'd used all through your training, resuming when you returned from your victory with a mentality worse than death. You were so upset now that you almost didn't want it to work, but of course it did.

He gently brought you into his chest, your cheek against his heart. Finnick held your head there with his other hand, taking in purposefully deep breaths so you'd follow his lead. A salty tear slipped from your eye and he let it soak into his shirt. The action opened the floodgates, and now you were really crying, rivers on your cheeks streaming like rain on a windowpane.

When you choked out an apology, he shook his head, adjusting you in his arms so his body blocked the wind, engulfing you deep into him. "It was your tears or the sea, baby. I'd take the first any day."

You felt your knees buckle as emotion overwhelmed you, feeling like you were drowning. But Finnick caught wind of it, ever your rescuer. He knelt in the sand, never once letting go as he let you cry helplessly into his shoulder.

How many times had you been in this exact position with him? It was a number you hadn't bothered to keep track of, knowing it would happen again and again. Every time you shattered, he gathered up the pieces, setting them back in place and kissing the crooked lines of your scars.

Rubbing your back, he murmured sweet assurances into your hair, holding you tight. He didn't want to let go either, you knew. In all your sorrow you'd forgotten. He was leaving you, but he was leaving you. It hurt him just as much, he cried just as many tears over it, though you knew most didn't make it to your skin, just the pillow in the room he kept at the Capitol. A room he spent as much time in as possible, for it was the only place he wasn't forced to perform in every way.

To everyone there, he was a service. A machine that had but one function. To flirt and be used, to wear the image they thrust on him. It was nothing like the man you knew, the one who kissed you so sweet it made you melt, who made promises bare under bedsheets. He loved you, he loved you, he loved you.

Every time he was summoned, you hoped it would be the last time. But then in a few months, another request was made, and he penned another letter to you, instructions written on the envelope not to open it until he was gone. The words inside would comfort you when he was far from your presence. He hadn't even gotten the chance to tell you in person first this time- you'd flipped through your mail, seen his handwriting and just known.

Finnick loosened his grip on you just a little, pressing a soft kiss into your hair. "It's gonna be okay. You're gonna be okay."

You shook your head, half hoping if you convinced him it wouldn't be okay that he'd stay. But life persisted, you were forced to keep living, and you were deemed fine because you had to be. And after every bout without him, you were left with nothing but the knowledge that you could survive outside his orbit, something you wished wasn't true. Paired with that, dread that another summons would arrive, closer to his return home than the previous one.

Pushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his eyes found yours, searching and soothing. "You'll remember your breathing, okay? Yeah? And I'll be right back here with you before you know it. It'll be like I was never gone." It wouldn't. You both knew that. You both knew an ache would instill the second you parted ways, two souls never meant to be apart.

"Please don't," you whispered, a final hopeless plea. Clinging to his shirt, you squeezed your eyes shut. "Don't go. Just tell them no. Tell them you can't this time."

"Baby, they're gonna hurt you if I don't," he murmured, stroking your hair again. "I'll die before I let them hurt you."

You let out a gasping sob, and he nodded, folding himself around you again. "Shh, I've got you. I've got you." Securing a hand over the top of your head, he whispered, "You're safe. I'm here."

Hand reaching up, you found the shell he wore on a cord around his neck, a smooth, creamy thing you'd found on a lazy day with him walking on the beach. Finnick called it his good luck charm and had shown up the next day with it on a necklace. You'd never seen him without it since.

It was your object of comfort now, as you leaned against his chest and grasped it, rubbing your thumb over the smooth underside. Steadily, you could feel yourself begin to calm down, the storm in your heart quelling to a careful breeze. Suddenly you were back to earth sheathed in Finnick's arms, the only safe place in the world. Your ears stopped ringing, everything caught up and you took in a breath that didn't shake.

"There you go," he murmured, rocking back and forth. "It's okay, baby. It's okay."

It wasn't okay. None of it was. You thought helplessly about how unfair everything had turned out. The two of you had been through the unimaginable and come out the other side. But the story didn't end there. And now the man you loved was a tool in the hands of the same people who continued to torture you long after the last person in the arena was slain.

Finnick rubbed your back gently, his touch an antidote. He kissed your forehead, lips lingering, nose buried in your hairline. "Pretty girl. My pretty girl." His cheek rested on the top of your head. "Sometimes I wonder why you chose me?"

Despite yourself, you breathed a laugh, and he smiled. As if Finnick didn't know how good looking he was. The world reminded him often, but you never saw him light up so much as when you did.

Tenderly holding you, tethering you to him as the rock in your storm, Finnick lightly trailed his lips over your face, as if he were kissing the bright side of the moon. He ended on your mouth, staying there as long as he could. You could have mistaken his eyes for stars, his touch for a sunbeam.

He pulled you in from the treacherous waters in your heart, tucking you into his side as he swam through them himself.

A devotion sealed in kisses, a cradle in his arms.

[reorientation]

I'm very late to this kink but I think I've been in it for years? Not even on purpose.

I live with my roommates, me and my three guy friends 💗 which is funny because it just worked out that way. Anyway, years ago I went through this awful break up and we'll just leave at that. I was crazy about this girl and it like actually messed me up when she broke up with me. So in a really weird mental space but just trying to move on from it, I keep getting crazy drunk with my friends, partying through the pain lol

One in particular, we're pretty tight, I'll call him Zach here. So Zach and I were really close at that time, like really really close, and one night we start doing kind of sexual stuff while really drunk. This wasn't a thing between us at all before that night and I can't remember exactly what lead to it, but yeah we're doing some fool around stuff and then more and then more. I'd never done stuff with guys really, not beyond little party game things, like spin the bottle. He knew that and at one point that night he put it inside me and to be honest I wasn't sure what to think.

I remember at the time wondering if I should stop him or something? I don't know it's kind of funny to think about now, but I was thinking maybe he shouldn't do this, maybe I need to tell him this is too much? It felt really weird and I guess I didn't know if it was in a good way or a bad way yet. But he was saying things like "I can't believe you're letting me do this" and "you're letting me ruin you" and it was so hot that I let him fuck me. Those things he was saying were making me so wet and I guess that's this kink.

He never says that stuff anymore I just remember that being the point where my mind just silenced all the "should I tell him not to?" thoughts and it just went blank while he fucked me. It wasn't crazy good sex, we were really drunk, but it was hot and it was very different from what I was used to.

So all and all this made my other friends jealous because both of us told them. At the time it was really odd! No one saw it coming! So they all wanted a turn lol and I had told them that I found it weirdly hot so of course they both wanted to prove something. Okay one of them, we'll call Tom, wouldn't say that but it's kind of true.

Anyway all three of them got their chance and it just became a thing that would happen pretty frequently. Maybe a few times a week? I'm a very horny person so being single has always been hard on me and on top of that I'm an attention whore. I wouldn't say I'm not a lesbian because I'm still not attracted to men but I am definitely a big enough attention whore that it doesn't matter lol I just like that they all need to get with me.

So over the years this arrangement has been a thing I guess, when I'm single they can just fuck me whenever because my libido is really high. They don't talk about me being a lesbian while we fuck but I notice every once in awhile I find it kind of hot that they might think about getting to fuck a lesbian yknow like they think it might change something? I think about how Zach said that stuff and it still makes me wet, I think I should bring it up to him maybe? But that might be weird.

One of the really juicy things that happened recently was that Tom fucked me really hard. Tom has always been a very sweet kind of guy and he definitely is that guy in bed, but he also hasn't been fucking me at all for the past... five months maybe because he has a serious girlfriend. But a few weeks ago he came home and we were chilling and he got very intense and held me down and fucked me really hard from behind. Like toe curling hard. It was so hot and I had already found this kink so I kept thinking about it as like him trying to "break" me.

He hasn't done anything with me since but I wish they would get in on this kink without me saying anything. I feel like I can't say it because it'd be embarrassing and weird, but it'd also kind of ruin it to ask for it? Or maybe it'd just turn my brain off again when they actually said something and it wouldn't matter?

What a pure, sweet example of lesbian sexuality: a girl who's been maximum-convenience, any-time-you-want pussy for three different men for years, but "wouldn't say that I'm not a lesbian because I'm still not attracted to men".

As if it matters! As if your little categorization criterion means anything when you spend your life taking cock whenever men decide you will!

The very first time a man fucked you, he said the right words to get your mind blank and your pussy wet - and now it's years later, and you've been fucked hundreds of times.

And the funny thing is, they don't even have to earn it by playing with the dykebreaking kink. That's your idea, that you use to get off, and you're hoping that they'll indulge you in it. Countless guys get off to the idea, but I don't know if it even really occurs to the men fucking you anymore: how do you see a girl as a lesbian when you and your buddies have been emptying your balls in her for years?

But if you're too shy to ask them to think of you that way, the solution is easy enough. Have you ever spread your legs for them on top of a lesbian flag? Worn a "This is what a lesbian looks like" shirt until they took it off?

Just remind them what you claim to be, as you keep being a good fucktoy for them. With any luck, they'll laugh at you for it, as they fuck your little "lesbian" brains out.