#i will even count coding languages in languages to learn if you want to. I think this is chill basically

[harmoonix]

Birds of a feather🦢

~ Random Astrology Observations ~

~If my soul would be a song. This would definitely be the one. 😭💘~ I am obsessed

🪷 Pisces in your big 3 (Sun, Moon, Rising) may dream a lot about their partners or future/potential partners

🦢 Moon aspecting Venus can make the native so sacrificial in their relationships especially on the emotional part of a relationship

💘 Moon - Ascendant aspects, their sensible nature can be attractive to others, you just want to protect them and keep them safe

✨️ Not many people know this but Leo Placements are so caring in their relationships, even if they don't give that vibe

🕯 Pluto - Venus aspects can become obsessed to their partners, falling for them every chance they get

🔥 A fire Venus in the chart can love so deep that their love is exactly like an arrow striking the heart, is so unexpected but so lovely in the same time

💚 Earth Moons and Venus are the most comforting when they're together with their partners! They partners can be their safe space

💆‍♀️ Air Moons may share a common love language with their partners, especially if it involves communication

💬 Sometimes, it is hard to tell how deeply in love Scorpio Venus is. This Venus placement can be so deep even for Venus herself

🙊 Gemini Moons/Mercury/Venus may share a lot of jokes together with their partners. Their partners make them laugh a lot

──────────────────────

I want you to stay

Til I'm in the grave

──────────────────────

💯 Pisces Venus can give you the moon from the sky when they are deeply in love/they attach extremely fast (Yall know how much obsessed I am with Pisces Venus🙂‍↕️)

🫶🏼 Venus - Jupiter aspects are so 'You're my happy place' coded. Jupiter intensifies Venus love for that specific person

💖 If you plan to have a wedding and you have Cancer or Libra Venus/Moon, the honeymoon can be a beautiful experience in your life

🦭 Part of fortune in the 7th house can symbolize 'Fated Love' so much. Is such a 'to die for placement

🦋 Capricorn Placements can also attach fast to the people they love. Even if often they are seen as cold people, their love is something truly something else

🏵 Saturn in the 7th house natives can indicate not having as many relationships as others, low body count too, sometimes can even indicate the native falling in love for the first time

👻 Venus in the 10th house or 11th house can become more known for dating certain people, or become more famous because of their relationship

😹 Most times, mercury in the 5th and 7th house like to talk about their experiences with love to other people can share the same love life stories with others

💖 Venus in the 2nd house or Taurus may spoil or be spoiled by their partners, it can also be their love language to do it so

❤️‍🩹 Chiron in the 5th or 7th house can learn a lot from other people experience with love. Can stand up to help others with their romantic lives

🤍 Sometimes your 7th house sign can also tell you the season you can fall in love, for example Cancer Risings can fall in love more in winter due to their 7th house being a winter sign (Capricorn) and so many more!!

🫡 I feel like 7th house in air signs people just need a partner who can understand them deeply, to understand their needs and desires

🤖 Venus in Aquarius/11th house can fall in love on internet/dating sites. There are so many possibilities. To be honest, dating online is slowly fading away

👨‍❤️‍👨👩‍❤️‍👩 A strong Saturn/Uranus can be often found in people who are attracted to the same gender! There are charts out there who can give a lot of lgbt vibes btw!!

👸 Leo Venus/Mercury/5th, 7th or 8th house treat their partners with such good love/attention and care, like some royalty

──────────────────────

Til the light leaves my

eyes

──────────────────────

💌 Jupiter in the 5th house can be often found in charts of people who can marry/date people from their childhood 'we know since kindergarten or school' vibes

💣 If your partner has a fire Mars, they will often give you mixed signals during the talking stage, fire mars natives don't always know how to handle their emotions when they're in love

😗 I find north node in Libra/7th house to be such a cute placement, romantically talking, and writing this while I have Aries north node is a pain in the ass😃

🦩 Venus at 9° 21° or 9th house can travel a lot with their partners/couple - travelling a lottt! Some of them can even have blogs or media chanels where they can talk about that

🪼 Knowing the love language of someone with Scorpio Placements can be a win for life, they can love you forever for that

🦚 If your partner has Jupiter in Cancer, it can be an indicator of them having a big family and relatives

😊 Moon in the 9th house can be a good indicator of your partners family getting along with you! Good relations

😩 For some reason, I can't resist those with Pluto in the 1st/8th and 10th house natives. Something is so attractive about them

🤳 Sagittarius Moons can plan lots of trips/adventures together with their spouses/partners or even alone because they will always have that adventurous spirit

💗 Libra Rising will wait for the other person to do the first step in the relationship because if you didn't know this, Libra Risings stressed so much in their love life, so they will wait for the other to do something first

💥 Billie Eilish, who composed this song (Godess Behavior), has her Venus in the 10th house, indicating making her love life more public = writing songs about love and ending up successful

❤️‍🔥 Venus in Fire signs want a chill yet passionate love life. They're some fierce romantics, and they know it.

──────────────────────

I want you to see

How you look to me

──────────────────────

🤬 Mars or Aries in your 3rd house is a big indicator of not getting along with your siblings, arguing more than ever

🧗‍♂️ Venus, Sun or Moon in the 5th house can make you an addict in trying fun physical or creative activities

🧝‍♀️ Mercury rules over fantasy, mystical world, magic (to some extent), creativity is explored through your Mercury, and be proud of it

🫦 Sagittarius Placements are born with attitude, especially Rising/Mars/Venus, that person who always seems a bit more harsh

──────────────────────

But if it's forever, it's even better

──────────────────────

By Harmoonix 🤍, hope you have an amazing day 🤍🤍🤍

[iamasaddie]

push, push

Tommy Miller x f!Reader summary: you've been pushing Tommy's buttons too long for him to ignore, it was time he gave you a piece of his mind. warnings: MDNI, infidelity, Benji doesn't exist, PWP, dirty talk, tiny manhandling, naked grinding (is that a thing?), cum eating, big girthy age gap (reader late 20s-30s; Tommy 55), thick Tommy, kinda rude Tommy and kinda brat-coded reader? wc: 2.3k (that's 1.3k more than i intended oh well) a/n: tommy miller brainrot y'know what i'm sayin'. this is not heavily edited, english is not my first language all mistakes are my own and yada yada. special thanks to my special boo @cuppajoel for talking me reading through it series masterlist | next part ao3

Tommy was done with your shit. You were taking it too far to go unnoticed even by the most obtuse members of Jackson, let alone his fucking wife. 

It started when you felt enough at home in Jackson. The moment you came you were a trembling deer, still learning what it was like to live in safety; fed, warm. But when your nightmares became a rarely reoccurring echo of the past, another part of you showed its darker self and Tommy smelled danger. 

It all started with a simple hello, a bat of your eyelashes, a compliment to his shirt. Innocent, polite. But then your eyes started to wander to parts of his body no one but his wife touched for the last six years. And that wandering gaze didn’t falter when he cleared his throat to announce that he noticed, oh no, a vicious smile tugged on your lips, and you walked away but not before winking at him. 

Tommy wasn’t an idiot, he knew when someone was making a move on him, but he played stupid in front of you. Giving simple thanks and nods whenever you said that his hair looked good tied up like that. He was never rude, never gave you any emotional reaction, but that only fired you up more until you finally caught him alone in the Tipsy Bison cleaning up and doing inventory. 

“Here all by yourself, handsome?” You chirped, climbing on a bar stool. The apples of your cheeks became more pronounced as you gave him a toothy smile. Somehow this simple and innocent-sounding phrase tipped him off.

“You gotta stop with this shit,” he used more force to dry a freshly cleaned whiskey tumbler, his hand gripping the glass dangerously hard.

Your fingers tapped on the top of the bar table, the rhythmic sound imitated a timer, counting down beats before Tommy would explode. He couldn’t look at you, couldn’t see your eyebrows jerking up in a mocking confusion.

“What are you talking about, Tommy?” There was laughter in you voice. Tommy threw the wet rag on the table a little too hard, slapping it with his opened palm at the same time and making you jump at his movement.

“You know damn fuckin’ well what I’m talkin’ about. Trottin' around me, touchin’ me, saying stuff you ain’t supposed to say to a man twice your age. To a married man twice your age.”

You shrugged your shoulders, tugging at a strand of hair that was tucked behind your ear. “I think you’re just angry ‘cause you want me, and if you weren’t stupid you’d already have me.”

Tommy’s jaw went slack as he counted to three, red hot anger blinding him and he exhaled heavily, like a tired bull at a bullfight. You could almost see steam coming out of his flaring nostrils. He finally looked at you, face screwed in a myriad of conflicting emotions, from anger to annoyance to… curiosity? 

“Have you thought that maybe—just maybe—I just love my wife? Maybe I’m a decent fucking human being?”

It was like he was asking questions from a test you’d spent your whole life preparing for. Didn’t even take you a minute to think before responding, calm and collected, everything Tommy wasn’t.

“Not asking you to love me.” You said it so simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. You put your elbows on the table, placing your face between your palms and not taking your eyes off him. “And if you were decent, you wouldn’t have let me watch. You like it. Bet you fuck your fist thinking how I much want you. How I moan imagining your cock instead of my fingers as I fuck my pussy.” 

Your mundane, matter-of-factually tone made him turn around, and he circled the bar getting to you in several heavy steps. Your hawkish gaze never left him and you turned on the bar stool as he approached. Without a second thought, he stood between the legs you spread in an inviting manner and pressed your back into the bar table painfully. The wood counter cut into your skin and it made you hiss, but it was short-lived as Tommy grabbed you by the cheeks, thick fingers making your lips pucker. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” The anger tethered on being wondrous. As if he was shocked someone like you would even be there. You wrapped your hand around his wrist and pushed his hand down. 

“I don’t pretend that we live in a normal world, maybe you should stop, too.”

His face dropped and you gave him a victorious chuckle. Your right hand found his neck, squeezed it gently feeling his rapid pulse under your thumb and he shuddered under your touch, but didn’t stop you. You took it as an invitation, tracing it lower, while Tommy stood still. Didn’t push you away when your nail scratched his nipple through his worn white top; let you squeeze at his prominent belly that hung above his jeans. And then he let you touch his hardened dick through the rough denim. In turn, you graced him with a moan while he stayed silent, studying the fire in your eyes.

And then you just climb off the chair, your body almost fully pressing into him as he failed to take a step back. Your lack of bra let him feel your hard nipples dragging along his chest, the proximity of you felt criminal, deadly to everything good he’d ever thought of himself.

“You know where I live.” You leaned to press a kiss to his cheek, but he jerked his face away, so you gave his belly a gentle pat and left. 

When your door slammed open at 8PM that day, you couldn’t say you were confident enough for it not to bother you. You knew that most of the town was at the cinema, watching a cult classic from way before you were born, so you jumped to your feet leaving your cozy chair and grabbing running into the hall.

Tommy looked hot, not just because his hair were a bit unruly with a few greying strands falling over his forehead, his jaw set tight and eyes darker than the night during winter solstice. But also because he still radiated that fuming anger that made him warm enough to cross the street with his jacket wide open.

“Tommy,” you smiled as kindly as you were physically able to, “so nice to see you in my-”

“Shut up,” he bit back crossing your tiny hallway after slamming the door shut. He came up so close to you that you could count his freckles even in the flickering light that stretched from your kitchen.

You made a silly movement with your fingers across your lips, pretending to zip your mouth shut, but he didn’t give you a single chuckle. Instead, he grabbed your shoulder—his fingers painfully digging into the skin revealed by the short sleeves of your simple t-shirt�� and dragged you to your room. You had one of the newer houses that were built for the expanding population of Jackson. It was ridiculously small, only one-story high, an open kitchen that leaked into the living room through the narrow hallway, the only rooms fully divided by walls were your bathroom and your bedroom, both holding only as much space as necessary, no excess. With a few other similar places, it stood out among the older two-story buildings, but you didn’t even think to complain. It was light years away from the places you’d nested in before.

Tommy practically shoved you into your modestly decorated bedroom, pushing you hard enough to make you fly onto your bed. The old mattress creaked, and your body bounced like a ragdoll.

“Make yourself at home, I guess.” 

If looks could kill you’d be already six feet under. 

Slowly, you scrammed up, your legs open wide as you moved and settled on laying on your elbows. Tommy looked too big for your room, it barely fit him in. With his broad shoulders, and thick flannel, with his belly standing out and thighs as big as tree trunks. You focused on the belt buckle, it was shiny and big and dragged your attention to the part of him you’re yet to familiarize with. 

“Will having my cock finally calm you the fuck down?” The anger in his voice subsided, giving space for mockery. It was cruel, and it made your sleeping shorts soak through with arousal. 

“I don’t know, why don’t we find out?” Your words merely a whisper, thick and sinful, just like the man in front of you.

He just nodded, taking off his jacket and throwing it on your bed but missing. The item fell to the floor next to it, but Tommy didn’t bat an eye. His hands unbuckled his belt with practiced ease, and then he just dropped his pants, no teasing, no foreplay. 

You were taken aback by such a mechanical action, but when he climbed on the bed you decided no to test your fate and quickly got out of your sleeping shorts, throwing them into an unknown direction.

When your wet, bare cunt was on full display for him, Tommy licked his lips. For a split second you thought he was gonna eat you out, but instead, he hiked up his wife-beater to bare his stomach. A thick black happy trail guided to the soft looking tuft of hair around his cock. A little outgrown, but that didn’t bother you, because you were too impressed by the thing that bush of hair surrounded. 

Modestly long, around 6-6’5 inches, his cock was as thick as your wrist, and you felt saliva pooling in your mouth as you imagined the thing splitting you open. Taking him would definitely take some preparation, so you shuddered when he slapped your slit with his cock.

“Tommy, I—” You stuttered.

“Shut up.” That was his phrase of the day, it seemed. You braced yourself, you weren’t afraid of a little pain and with the amount of slick arousal your cunt was pushing out, it wouldn’t take long to make the whole thing something pleasurable. You wanted him too bad and for too long to push him away now.

But he didn’t push into you, didn’t even press the head to your weeping entrance. He left the shaft to lay on your slit, pressing it pleasantly into your clit. He held his fingers like a cage around the top side of his shaft, making sure he’s stimulating your clit with every thrust of his hips. Tommy was teasing you, mocking. His cock glided through your slick irritating your clit, not giving it enough pressure. The thick, hot shaft was caged between your cunt and his hand and you dug your short nails into his bulging biceps to get his attention.

“Come on, I can take it,” you assured him, thinking it was his way to prepare you, make you even wetter.

“You’re not getting more,” he grunted back, concentrated on the way your silky skin felt on him. Grinding through his teeth when he felt too close to the sun. “Either you cum like that or you’re gonna cry your needy cunt to sleep.”

“Not fair.” You whined, even though you knew you were more than halfway done on your way to a somewhat satisfying orgasm. Your own thoughts about him riled you up, and now, being surrounded by the smell of his sweat, his hair dangling so close to your face you could smell the pine shampoo. And with his deliciously thick cock relentlessly teasing your buzzing clit? No, cumming wasn’t really a problem, but you wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself if you didn’t push his buttons just a little. 

“No shit. I am not fucking you.” He spit, his lips twisted but not with anger, no, he was holding back. “I know how much you want it, how long you waited.” Tommy cooed, his mustache tickling the shell of your ear as you soak in the words.

“Will you deprive yourself just because you are a stubborn little shit?” He leaned back, his hips still lazily thrusting to make sure you were constantly stimulated. He looked into your eyes, almost gentle.

“Know you can do it, know you wanna show me how good you look when you cum.” His hand traced the curves of your body before returning to pressing the underside of his cock into your slick slit and nudging your clit. “Come on, show me.”

Your mouth opened in a silent scream as a wave of pleasure consumed you. Tommy kept sliding his dick through your slit, every time the ridge of his tip would kiss your clit you’d hiccup and sob with overstimulation. One look at you like that and he could finally admit that he loved this, loved seeing you ruined, nothing to say just pathetic little whimpers and pleas. 

He fisted his cock tightly, giving it a couple of strokes before erupting on his own knuckles and leaving a few ropes on your sweat-covered cunt. Tommy grunted with the sound of a wounded animal as the last drops of his pearly cum left his angry tip. 

Your fucked out look could easily be mistaken for love, if only he didn’t know you better. If you didn’t know yourself better. Silently, he brought his fist to your face, and you circled his wrist with shaking hands while your tongue cleaned his cum off his skin. When he was satisfied that you licked up every last drop, he ripped his hand from your grip. Without saying another word, he tucked himself in his jeans, tightened the belt and grabbed his jacket from the floor. 

“We should do it again sometime,” you laughed as his footsteps sounded more distant. With the way he slammed the door, you knew he heard you. 

PLEASE LEAVE A COMMENT AND REBLOG, IT IS VERY IMPORTANT TO ME <3

'you can maybe like this' ahh taglist: @tommysversion @toxicanonymity @aurorawritestoescape @milla-frenchy @aureatelys @covetyou @strang3lov3 @megangovier

[feverish-dove]

Secrets in the Stone World

moments when you share a hidden language with the worlds favorite scientist (well technically he’s the only one, so does it really count?). “this is normal japanese” “this is english” Senku Ishigami x Reader warnings: oneshot, fluff word count: 1,051 cross posted on ao3 this is intended to be a sequel to my other post, Sun Kissed Science, yet can be read as a standalone work!

It had become a daily ritual.

Each morning before the village awoke you sat near the river, carefully applying Senku’s homemade sunscreen. The mixture, though slightly grainy, had saved your skin from the brutal Stone World sun, and you weren’t about to risk another burn.

Today was no different. You were finishing up, rubbing the last bit onto your arms, when a familiar voice interrupted your thoughts.

“You’re up early.”

You glanced up to see Senku standing a few feet away, arms crossed and that usual confident smirk tugging at his lips. His clothes were slightly disheveled, as always, and a few stray strands of hair fell down even more than usual.

You smiled. “I could say the same to you.”

He let out a chuckle. “Science doesn’t wait.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the warmth in your chest. Ever since Senku had made the sunscreen, you’d started spending more time around him—not just because of his intelligence, but because he made the Stone World feel a little less… overwhelming.

He stepped closer, eyeing your sunscreen application with an approving nod. “Looks like you’ve got it down.”

“Of course. I take my sun protection very seriously.”

He smirked. “Good. I don’t feel like making another batch every few days just because you forgot.”

You nudged him playfully, and he easily dodged, chuckling.

Then, before you could say anything else, a voice called out from the village.

“Hey! Senku! We need your help with—”

You winced, struggling to catch the rest of the sentence. The villagers spoke fast, and even though you had learned Japanese before the petrification, it still took you a few extra seconds to process what they were saying.

Senku, of course, noticed immediately.

His gaze flickered to yours, sharp and calculating. Then, in a lower voice, he said something that made your heart stop.

“Do you want me to translate?”

Your breath hitched.

English.

Your native language.

It had been so long since you’d heard it spoken fluently that for a moment, it almost didn’t register.

You stared at him, stunned, before managing a hesitant, “You… speak English?”

Senku smirked, eyes glinting. “Of course I do. I learned it when I was a kid. Comes in handy, don’t you think?”

A slow smile spread across your face. “You have no idea.”

For the first time in years, you felt a sense of ease wash over you. No struggling to find the right words, no awkward pauses while you pieced together sentences—just effortless conversation.

And judging by the look in Senku’s eyes, he understood exactly how much this meant to you.

From that day on, English became your secret language.

Whenever you got stuck in a conversation with the villagers, Senku would subtly switch to English to help you out. Whenever you were overwhelmed, he’d make an offhanded joke in English just to see you smile.

It became second nature.

The others, of course, were completely baffled.

“Why do you guys always talk in that weird code?” Kohaku had asked one day, arms crossed. “Is it some kind of secret science language?”

Senku had just smirked. “Something like that.”

You had to stifle a laugh.

The only person who caught on was Gen.

One evening, as you sat near the fire, Gen plopped down beside you with a lazy grin.

“So, you’re fluent in English, huh?”

You nearly choked on your food. “Wait—you too?”

Gen chuckled, resting his chin on his hand. “Of course~! I used to travel a lot before the petrification, so I picked it up along the way.”

You gaped at him before turning to Senku, who looked entirely unsurprised. “You knew?”

He shrugged. “Gen’s annoyingly talented. It’s not that shocking.”

Gen feigned offense. “Annoyingly? Senku, I’m hurt.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Okay, so it’s just the three of us, then.”

Gen wiggled his eyebrows. “Ooooh, does that mean we have a secret club?”

Senku rolled his eyes. “It just means we have another way to communicate. Which, by the way, could be useful if we ever need to discuss something privately.”

You nodded, understanding immediately. Having a language that no one else knew could be an advantage—especially in situations where secrecy was necessary.

But even beyond that, it was nice.

Nice to speak without stumbling over words. Nice to feel completely understood.

Nice to share something with Senku.

One night, you found yourself sitting beside Senku near the edge of the village, watching the stars.

It had been a long day. You were tired, but your mind was too restless to sleep.

Senku seemed to notice.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked, glancing at you.

You sighed, hugging your knees. “It’s nothing. Just… thinking about the past.”

He hummed in understanding. “You miss it?”

You hesitated before nodding. “Yeah. Sometimes.”

He was quiet for a moment. Then, in a softer voice, he said, “You’ll see it again, you know. Civilization. Science. Everything we lost. I’ll bring it all back.”

You turned to him, studying his profile in the moonlight. His expression was unreadable, but there was a fire in his eyes—a determination so unwavering that you almost believed he could rebuild the world overnight.

Your heart clenched.

“I know you will.”

A smirk tugged at his lips. “Damn right I will.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.”

“I prefer ‘brilliant.’”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest didn’t fade.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The night air was cool, the sky endless above you, and for the first time in a long time, you felt at peace.

Then, without really thinking, you murmured, “I’m glad you’re here.”

Senku blinked, caught off guard.

You felt your face heat up. “I mean—not that I’m glad you got petrified too, but—just, if I had to be stuck in this world, I’m glad you’re part of it.”

He was silent for a long moment. Then, to your surprise, he chuckled.

“You’re such a sap.”

You huffed, nudging him with your shoulder. “Shut up.”

But as you turned away, you caught something unexpected—something rare.

A small, genuine smile.

Not his usual smug grin. Not his teasing smirk.

Just a quiet, sincere smile.

And suddenly, the Stone World didn’t feel so lonely anymore.

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Ruggie Bucchi - Room Relaxation Vignette

"Happy Birthday"

[Exterior Hallway 2F]

Ruggie: Oh hey, Floyd-kun! Perfect timing. I've been lookin' for ya.

Floyd: Hm? You need me for something, Sharksucker-chan?

Ruggie: Remember how I told ya the other day that my birthday's tomorrow?

Floyd: Mmmm… Now that'cha mention it, kinda sounds familiar, but I'd completely forgotten 'bout that.

Ruggie: I thought so. I'm glad I came to remind you, then.

Ruggie: Sooooo I'M COUNTIN' ON YA TO GIVE ME A PRESENT TOMORROW!!

Floyd: Your birthday's got nothin' to do with me, though?

Ruggie: IT DEFINITELY DOES! I DID SO MANY OF YOUR CHORES FOR YOUR BIRTHDAY!!

Ruggie: Although, I bet you forgot that, too… ANYWAY, SERIOUSLY, DON'T FORGET MY PRESENT!!

Floyd: Ahah, you're really wantin' one, huh.

[Classroom]

Ruggie: Might've been a bust to try'n get somethin' outta Floyd-kun. But who knows, he might come in clutch.

Ruggie: I gotta find a buncha other people to remind, I guess～ Hm? What's that bag of candy that guy's holdin' over there…?

Ruggie: Hey, you, that snack looks pretty tasty. Can ya give me one?

[Diasomnia student speaks]

Ruggie: Ehhhh～ Then, what about the sticker on the bag? Oh, I can have that? Thanks!

Ruggie: Nice, that went well. The sticker's the thing I wanted from the start, anyway.

Ruggie: If I scan the code on this sticker with my phone, I could win a prize worth 30,000 Madol [300 Thaumarks] in their giveaway!!

Ruggie: Then, if I win something, that's a profit at no cost. I'll hafta thank that guy if that happens… in spirit, that is!

Ruggie: Next is… That guy that's about to leave the classroom with his wallet out!

Ruggie: Hey, y'know, tomorrow's my birthday～! I hope you'll be givin' me a gift in return for the one I gave you.

Ruggie: But anyway, putting that aside, you're up next in history class, right? You got everything prepped already?

[Scarabia student speaks]

Ruggie: Not yet, but you're wantin' to head to the Mystery Shop first? Oh hey, then I can go shopping for ya, then. Not sayin' I'm payin', though.

Ruggie: You want the new soda that just dropped, and a cheese-flavored snack? You're good with whatever I pick for that? Okay, gotcha.

Ruggie: He gave me 500 Madol [5 Thaumarks] for that… This should be enough plus a little tip for me, sheeheehee!

[Savanaclaw Dorm – Walkway]

Ruggie: Did some shoppin', helped with some chores, cleaned up the clubroom… Sheeheehee, I made a bit of spare change today, too.

Ruggie: Guess that's enough workin' for now. I'll go hop in the shower now.

Ruggie: Who'd've ever thunk there'd come a time where I'd get to shower every day like it's nothin'～

Ruggie: There's no way I'd've ever been able to splash around in the shower like this back home.

Ruggie: I love living in a dorm at school! Can't believe there's guys complainin' about there not bein' a bathtub, or havin' to share a shower room.

Ruggie: Whew, that was refreshing. I've toweled off good enough, and my hair'll be fine like this.

Ruggie: Oookay, it's study time. I ain't got the time to be failing my classes!!

[Savanaclaw Dorm – Ruggie's Room]

Ruggie: Ancient Incantations homework starts on this page of the textbook, huh. Uhhhhh… Yup, I don't get it at all.

Ruggie: What's even the point of learnin' 'bout these dead languages, anyway? Can't really get excited to learn 'bout somethin' I can't find a use for.

Ruggie: Hey, you're pretty good at ancient incantations, right? Can you translate this sentence from the textbook for me?

Ruggie: Of course, I'm not askin' for it for free! I'll help you with your Animal Linguistics assignment in return.

[Roommate speaks]

Ruggie: …All right, deal! Wheew, it's nice havin' a roommate I can count on.

Ruggie: Man, why do uppity schools hand out so much stuff to do? There's no way one person could do all this homework and classwork review all on their own…

Ruggie: …Right, ancient incantations is doneee!! I should hurry and get my other assignments outta the way too.

Ruggie: Whew, finally, I'm done～ That's seriously waaay too much work, man.

Ruggie: Now, then… Guess I'll get this done too, while I'm still at my desk.

「Survey on Quality of Life Improvements for the Student Body」

Ruggie: I'd be more thrilled to fill it out if they'd give us some money or a prize for answering it～

Ruggie: Not like we'd even know if or when they'd do anything. I'll just quickly throw somethin' together.

Ruggie: I only have one thing I want. "GIVE ME TIME TO WORK SOME GIGS!!"

Ruggie: There's waaay too much homework, and most of the classes are hard to get through without reviewing and prepping for the next class…

Ruggie: Plus, joinin' a club's mandatory, so we got practice or matches on weekends which cuts into what little time I got to try to find a job!!

Ruggie: It's not hard findin' temp jobs, but this basically means that I can't really make money unless it's a long break.

Ruggie: …Oh, you're heading to bed? Yeah, I'm pretty much done with this survey, so I'm gonna sleep too. ''Kay then, night～

Ruggie: Sheeheehee, I can hear his soft sleep breathing. Alright… Now it's my "fun" time.

Ruggie: I'll pull the cover all the way around me, then turn on my phone light…

[flips through banknotes]

Ruggie: Sheeheehee! Ever since I came to Night Raven College, my savings've been slowly goin' up.

Ruggie: I got a ton of coins now too, so I should go deposit these soon. It's scary just having cash lay around unprotected.

Ruggie: Even if I can't really find part-time gigs, thanks to living in the dorm, I don't gotta spend stuff on food or other small things here and there!

Ruggie: Plus, there's times people'll split stuff with me, or give me things they don't need anymore. There's so many ways to build up more cash.

Ruggie: I should be able to pick up another job over the next break, too. What if my savings hits another digit…!!

Ruggie: Haaaaah～ …I get such a good feelin' when I can just gaze at my bankbook like this. I gotta keep on workin' hard tomorrow, too.

Ruggie: Ah, I should sleep soon. I should do my usual thing.

Ruggie: Y'never know what can happen on campus at any time. Gotta stash my bankbook and wallet under my pillow and wrap it all with a towel…

Ruggie: After that, pull the cover allll the way over my head and I'm ready to conk out! Now I can sleep soundly.

[Savanaclaw Dorm – Ruggie's Room]

[alarm rings]

Ruggie: Yaaaaawn～～～

Ruggie: Yay, it's morning! First things first, gotta wash my face and get ready!!

Ruggie: I need ta quickly finish all the stuff I gotta get done, then go gather up all my birthday gifts. I ain't got time to dawdle!

[Savanaclaw Dorm – Washroom]

Ruggie: …Ooh, hey! Someone left behind some face soap. Mine now.

Ruggie: Wheeew～ that was a nice find. I gotta thank whichever dummy left that in a shared room!

[splash, splash…!]

Ruggie: That's washing done. Usually I just use water, so it feels super refreshing to use soap once in a while.

Ruggie: After wipin' all the water off with a towel, next I gotta moisturize. Just gotta spread this wildebeest brand oil on my hands…

Ruggie: Then I gotta rub it all over my face, rub it into my ears, and comb it through my hair with my fingers… Nice, all done.

Ruggie: Man, this oil is the best! I can use the just one thing on my skin, hair, hands, and even my ears.

Ruggie: Honestly, I find all this upkeep a pain, but it's cheaper in the long run to take care of myself now, instead of waiting until somethin' happens and I gotta go to the hospital or somethin'.

Ruggie: For 300 Madol, one bottle of this stuff can be used anywhere on my body, the effectiveness-to-price ratio is way in my favor. I wanna use these guys forever.

Ruggie: All right then… It's my birthday, so I guess I'll throw on a bit of makeup. I'll just consider it an investment to help get more lively responses from all the well-wishers.

Ruggie: I'll use some of the free sunscreen samples first… And as for eyeshadow, I think I'll use some of my special stuff.

Ruggie: Ta-da, the super high brand-name stuff that Leona-san gave me! Or, more like, the stuff I got to keep after I dropped it on the floor and all the powder went everywhere.

Ruggie: I couldn't sell it anywhere, since it looked like this, so I guess all I can do is use it myself.

Ruggie: Mm, but I'm starting to see the bottom of the container 'cause I've been using it too much… No, wait, I can still get some up if I rub my finger in the corner like this…!

Ruggie: Just gotta rub it neatly on my eyelid without wasting a speck… Ooh, lookin' good. All that's left is…

Ruggie: Oh yeah, I can use the eyeliner that I got from a classmate for my birthday last year.

Ruggie: Couldn't sell this either, 'cause it was an old version, or something like that. I should use it before it goes bad, I guess.

Ruggie: Nice, now I'm ready to get goin'! Now I just gotta go wake up Leona-san, and maybe I can wring somethin' outta him while I'm at it!

[Main Street]

Floyd: Hey, Sharksucker-chan. Happy Birthday～ I brought you a present.

Ruggie: You did!? Awesome, Floyd-kun! I knew I could count on ya to come in clutch.

Floyd: I just suddenly felt like clearing out all the stuff in my room I didn't need anymore, sooo～

Floyd: Here ya go, I'll give you this fashion magazine. It's way old now, so there ain't really a point to readin' it anymore.

Ruggie: An old magazine, huh. Eh, I guess it's better than getting noth… Hm? WAIT, THIS ISSUE…!!

Ruggie: FLOYD-KUN…! THANK YOU! THIS IS THE BEST!!!

Floyd: You're that happy to get trash as a gift, huh. Don't really get it, but good for you.

Ruggie: I guess you didn't know what this magazine is really worth.

Ruggie: It's been the talk of the town how this issue's got some photos of an idol that's been super hot right now from a photoshoot before their debut!

Ruggie: If I sell this, I should get at least 10,000 Madol! [100 Thaumarks] Or, maybe more…!? Sheeheehee, this is a dream come true!

Ruggie: I gotta get it out there 'fore their popularity wanes. Plus, I gotta go 'round and get more birthday stuff from everyone else, too…

Ruggie: Wheeew～ Today's lookin' out to be a busy one. THIS IS AN AWESOME START TO THE DAY!!

Requested by Anonymous.

[vinnyvamppp]

Your fics have my gay ass twirling my metaphorical long hair 🤣 to be desired and bite me back - easily my favorites!

If your requests are open, i really would like to ask for male reader since your okay with that 🙏🏾 Shiesty mark x male sub reader x omnimark with it being smutty and the marks smug and butting heads ☺️

Double Booked

Note: LMFAO, I'm glad I was able to manifest your inner diva, and so on! I always saw them as a friend/sibling comedy duo, BUT I see the vision, let me cook rq.

Warnings: Smut, Spit-Roast Position, Double Penetration, Face-Fucking, Power Dynamic, Explicit Language, Submissive/Bratty Reader Who Flips The Dynamic, Mutual Obsession, Ego Battles, Edging, Overstimulation.

Synopsis: You’re the problem that makes them argue, compete, and wreck you just to prove a point. Used, stuffed, and silenced—until you flip the game on them and make them beg to take turns. Who’s really in control? That’s the fun part.

Shiesty Mark x Omni-Mark x Male!Reader

Word Count: 2,050

It’s not that they get along, not really. They were never meant to coexist in the same space, two divergent directives spun from the same code. One optimized for logic, restraint, calculated control. The other? All instinct, all impulse, teeth bared and tongue always sharp. If Omni is the command line, Shiesty is the glitch in the system that learned how to want.

They disagree constantly. About methods, about meaning, and about you.

That’s the one variable neither can stabilize. You entered the equation soft, snarky, insatiable. Too mouthy for your own good. Too tempting not to take. Somehow, you hit the exact nerve that made them both decide: you’re theirs.

Not shared or split, but rather claimed simultaneously. Every interaction becomes a competition for attention.

And so, you live in the tension. Caught between a god and a demon in the same mirrored face. You’re a toy, test, and a pet they argue over. Shiesty wants to break you down and hear you beg. Omni wants to build you back up and train you to kneel. They take turns ruining you. Competing for your reactions. Measuring their worth in your moans, your obedience, your surrender.

The problem is, you like it. You like the chaos. The control. The quiet jealousy and cruel smirks. You like being fought over, fucked through, and flattened under their ego games. And maybe—just maybe—you know exactly what you’re doing when you sass one in front of the other.

Because if there’s one truth you’ve learned? They don’t need to agree, they just need to have you. Today, you were asking for it and not in the subtle way, in the downright suicidal way.

“I thought Omni was supposed to be the smart one,” you say, breathless but smug, gaze flicking toward Shiesty Mark who’s already leaning against the wall like he knew you’d blow this. “But I guess even he glitches.”

Shiesty chuckles under his breath. It’s more like a snort, dark, amused, and ready to revel in your downfall. “You just signed your own fuckin’ death sentence,” he mutters, low and giddy. “God, I love this part.”

Omni Mark doesn’t yell. Doesn’t curse, doesn’t even raise his voice. He just walks toward you slowly, like he's weighing every step with divine precision. His eyes are unreadable, but the tension behind them is palpable. Your breath hitches.

“I expected more discipline from you,” he says, calm but cutting. “But if this is what you need to understand your place…” He doesn’t finish the sentence… he doesn’t have to.

Next thing you know, his fingers are in your hair—not rough, but commanding and he's pushing you down. No warning, not even the grace of patience. “On your knees,” he says softly.

You obey and fast. Faster than you want to admit to the point it's shameful. And you swear you hear Shiesty laugh again behind you. “Look at him, all obedient now. Got that mouth full and suddenly he knows how to behave.”

Omni unzips with clinical like practice, hand steady at the back of your head. He doesn’t thrust, not yet. Just lets you feel the weight of him resting against your lips.

“You will not speak,” he says. “Unless it’s to apologize.”

You try. You try to say something smart, something biting, but the second your lips part, he pushes in. Your throat contracts around the pressure causing you to choke.

Behind you, you feel movement, clothes shifting, and a belt coming undone. You don’t even have time to look back. “You always this dumb?” Mark murmurs, voice now low by your ear as he crouches behind you. “Or does Omni just make you cockdrunk?”

You moan around his length—reflexive, humiliating, hot as hell—and the sound makes both of them freeze for a second. He grips your hair, guiding you down onto his thick cock, your lips nudging the base of his pelvis. Your lips stretch around him, your tongue flattening as the bulbous head nudges the back of your throat. You gag, eyes watering, but he holds you there, letting you adjust to the girth stretching your mouth. The taste of salt wells in the back of your throat, a faint rumble vibrating in his chest with each inch.

Then Shiesty growls, “Oh fuck, yeah,” and you feel the first thick press of him behind you. He grinds his own cock between your ass cheeks, the blunt tip catching on your rim with every thrust. He's thicker than you remember, the shaft pulsing with need as he teases your hole. The shlick sound of precum echoes in the room, the perfect lubricant to poke and prod as he pleased. The soft thrum of his heartbeat rattled against his chest, muscles tensing as anticipation spiked his pulse. This was his favorite pastime. Then it happens–

They move in sync. Like they’ve done this before. Like you’re just another variable they’re testing, except you know better. There’s tension simmering between them. Omni doesn’t slow his pace as he starts fucking your throat—tight grip on your skull, breath even. It starts shallow. Thrusts that let you feel every ridge and vein of his cock gliding over your tongue. He’s savoring the heat, the give of your muscles as you learn to take it. Shiesty’s hands dig into your hips as he lines up behind you, already leaking, cockhead rubbing between your cheeks with no patience, the hairs of his pubes tickling your ass. He waits until you're flushed and panting before the fat head of his cock pops past your rim. The burn is instant, the stretch almost too much as he drives into you with a guttural groan. “You really think you can talk shit to him and me?” Shiesty spits. “You think we won’t ruin you for that?”

You can’t answer, not with your mouth full, not with your body pinned, not with your brain short-circuiting from the thick stretch as Shiesty finally thrusts in from behind.

Omni doesn’t break pace. Doesn’t even look up, instead focusing on the contraction of your lips, the hollowed outline of your cheeks, and the spit drizzled down his length..

“Don’t be sloppy,” he says coolly, hand still in your hair. “We’re not rushing this.”

“Sloppy’s how he likes it,” Shiesty snaps, already moving rougher, deeper. “Ain’t that right, baby? Bet you like being used like a fuckin’ trophy while we argue.” They bicker over you and through you. 

You’re gagging, moaning, twitching—every muscle in your body caught between their rhythm, their dominance, their fucking egos. You’re nothing but a body, a problem they’re solving together, a brat getting what he begged for without even saying the words and it’s perfect.

Your whole body coils like a wire pulled tight, pleasure knotting low in your gut, spreading fast—hot, sharp, overwhelming. Your cock’s swollen, untouched, dripping onto the bedsheets with every brutal, synchronized thrust inside you, and your muscles lock up, toes curling, abs twitching—right there, so close you can taste it, every nerve in your body screaming for release. But it never breaks. Your cock throbs, useless, your climax teetering on the edge like a cruel mirage—just out of reach, no friction, no mercy, only the relentless stretch of two cocks slamming into you and your body begging for permission it’ll never get. You can’t come. You just shake, trembling, leaking, ruined—forced to feel every unbearable second of pleasure with no end in sight.

Their bodies stutter in sync, each thrust sloppier than the last, both of them buried so deep inside you they’re shaking—Omni’s jaw clenched tight, eyes half-lidded as sweat beads along his temple, his calculated control unraveling second by second, while behind you Shiesty’s rhythm falters, his fingers bruising into your hips, teeth grit, breathing like he’s been sprinting uphill, too stubborn to give in first even as his cock twitches inside you with every clench of your hole; they’re both trembling, holding on by a thread, each of them locked in silent, desperate resistance—not because they want to stop, but because they refuse to let the other win. You don’t remember finishing, no, not really. Your mind goes blank somewhere between Shiesty’s filthy growling and Omni’s slow, devastating thrusts down your throat. Your knees are aching, your lips are raw, your hole is flooded—both of them finishing inside you like it’s a race neither wanted to lose.

And still... you smile. Your face is a mess. Saliva and slick, sweat clinging to your skin. But the grin is there, lazy and cocky, per usual. Because you know something they don’t. … Or maybe they do—and that’s why they’re staring at you like they don’t know whether to fuck you again or drag you out of the room and marry you.

You rise to your feet slowly, somewhat staggering, and grab Shiesty by the jaw first. His lips are still wet, his cock half-hard and twitching as it softens. He gives you that trademark smirk—the one that says, you ain’t done with me.

But before he can speak, you lean in. “You look prettier when you’re mad,” you whisper against his lips. “Bet you’d lose it if I let him fuck me again first, huh?”

Shiesty’s nostrils flare. You know you’ve got him. That possessive, unhinged twitch in his brow tells you he’ll be back in you within seconds if you say the word. You turn next, casually, even as your legs shake and face Omni. His chest is rising slowly, evenly, but his eyes? They’re intense. There’s a storm there, hidden behind all that control, hidden behind narrowing eyes, with the twitch of his eyebrow revealing more.

You step close, press your hand to his still-clothed chest, feeling the solid muscle beneath. “You’re both obsessed,” you say with a tired little laugh. “Like you didn’t just double-stuff me and argue like divorced parents in front of a buffet.”

Omni doesn’t move, but his jaw ticks.

And then, you do the unthinkable. You reach down, wrap your fingers around both of their cocks—Shiesty’s already thickening again, Omni’s twitching under your palm.

“Let’s go again,” you murmur. “This time I’m not shutting up.” You’re straddling Omni’s lap this time, facing him, grinding slow against the length you know he's trying to keep from reacting to, but he can’t help it. You feel it—thick, already getting hard again, his self-control cracking like glass under pressure.

“You should stop me,” you whisper, angling your hips so your slick, used hole is brushing against his cock. “If you don’t want this—” Omni cuts you off. Not with words but with mind numbing action. One hand grips your waist, the other wraps around your throat, not choking, but close. His cock slips back inside you in one long, deep push until he’s fully sheathed.

You bite back a groan and grind, loving the stretch even after what you just took. Omni groans softly, low in his throat. From behind, you hear Shiesty pacing.

“Oh hell no,” he snaps. “You don’t get to fuck him again without me. He’s still dripping my load.” You look over your shoulder, smirking through your moans. “You’re jealous,” you pant. “Say it.”

Shiesty growls like a full animal and grabs your hips from behind. Omni doesn’t stop thrusting. You’re sandwiched again, Omni below you, slow and deep, Shiesty behind you, lining up with zero patience. “Fucking ruined,” Shiesty says as he pushes back in alongside Omni—two thick cocks spreading you open again, one slightly off-center, with both of them stuffing you full of heat and vengeance.

Your eyes roll back and you swear you black out for half a second. You’re moaning now—loud, shameless, because you know they’re both obsessed with you. They can’t stop, they won’t stop. Every thrust is a battle between them, but every scream you let out is a win.

“You’re both mine,” you whisper hoarsely, voice cracking as they both thrust into you at once. “Try to deny it.” Omni’s pace falters and Shiesty groans, “Fuck—shut up—shut up—”

But they don’t want you to, not at all. They want to hear you say it again. Every filthy word, every bratty taunt, every moan, every broken breath, and every whisper of I own you. Because deep down? They’re both obsessed with being the one who makes you break. And even deeper? They’re obsessed with how much you love making them break, too. A/N: I made it a little shorter than usual. I'm testing the waters. Hope you like it! lmfao

MasterList ོ༘₊⁺☀︎₊⁺⋆.˚

[shysuccubusstuff]

Bodyguard! Mr. Scarlatella:

Content: Yandere! Mr. Scarlatella but he is actually human + assassin + farmer! scarlatella; non proof-reading; female anatomy + dubcon/noncon + kidnapping + usage of substances (once for the kidnapping) + mindbreak + lovesick! Mr. Scarlatella; cunnilingus + breeding kink + baby trapping + possessive! dom + overstimulation + orgasm denial + creampie + impregnation + trophy wife! reader (kind of?)

Summary: You never imagined that the guy that was about to end your father's and your life would end up falling head over feels for you, but hey, at least you're alive, right?...

Word count: 4240 words.

Note: I just hate how my brain decides to get dry af as soon as I end with my exams/essays... btw, Merry Christmas to everyone who reads this!! I'm thinking about making a kind of pt. 2 but with Mr. Crawling, let me know if you would want to read it!! It's weird to go back to the more dark stuff when I had started to write less heavy stuff... I feel I may have gotten a bit too creative for his personality, so let me know!!

Note 2: Let me know if any content tag is missing-- I wrote this over a whole week so I may have forgotten some...

You were the daughter of one of the wealthiest so it was only natural for you to live under the feeling of being targeted by someone, even since you were a child. So when your father presented a new bodyguard for you, it was nothing out of the ordinary, just some new guy who would probably quit by the month (at most). So he arrived, long black hair falling in a cascade and deep purplish pupils that pierced you through his polarised glasses.

"Dear, this is the new bodyguard, I hope you know how to behave yourself, I don't want to keep on complaining to that damn company, they keep saying it's your fault, but it's impossible for it to be solely your fault, I mean, it's been over 10 bodyguards in less than two months... Anyways, I have to leave, Daddy has some work to do." With that, your father left, his expensive cologne lingering in the air as he slammed the door, the new bodyguard still on the entrance of your room, a slightly unsettling smile creeping on his lips as he stood there.

"So you won't even introduce yourself? Seriously, the quality of that damn company is so freaking low... Can't believe they didn't even teach you how to introduce yourself." The man bowed a bit, taking a small notebook and giving it to you. "What the...? So you're saying that you're still learning the language and don't want to mess up? Ugh, ok, whatever. What's your name?" The man with crimson hair refused to speak, stating that he had not received a proper code name yet. "Seriously? Can't even call your name cause they didn't gave it to you, well that's just perfect. Don't bother me, just stand outside or whatever, as if I care." With those last words, the man left, finally leaving you alone in your room. "What the heck is wrong with that dude? I'm gonna complain to that fucking company of security, how am I supposed to trust him when I don't even know his name..."

As time went on, you were slowly able to get to know him, getting to know that he was actually coming from Japan because of some "old acquaintance" he knew since many years ago, that he loved magic tricks and that he was actually quite... cute. It hurt to even think it, but it was true, he was a cute man, always behind you when you allowed him, always running around you with your delicious drink ready and your purse hanging off his shoulder. God, he even learnt how to do your nails, makeup and hair in case you wanted to get it done on the days you were just too lazy to get out of the house... He was even there that night.

You had waken up by around three in the morning, making your way to your door so you could get something to eat in the kitchen, soon noticing that Scarlatella (as you liked to call him in a kind of playful way because of his hair colour) was nowhere to be seen, but hey, he was human as well, maybe he just went to the bathroom or something like that. As you were about to arrive to the kitchen, you noticed that the mansion was a bit too quiet, one would even say that it would have been possible to listen to a pin dropping to the marble ground. Unsettled, you quickly made your way to your father's bedroom, but you soon found out that the bed was completely cold. Now alarmed, you run to his studio, the sound of your feet resonating all over the empty corridor as you forced the door open, soon finding a terrible scene.

It was your father, well, what used to be your father, as his body was already turning cold, his skin turning slightly blue with clear signs of choking. Just as you were about to scream, your vocal cords were unable to produce a sound, your lungs being completely filled with a strange air that made you gasp for hair before you started to feel lightheaded. As you felt your conscience drift, you silently cursed that stupid company and that useless yet slightly charming man.

By the time you woke up, you soon noticed that your whole body was intact, expect for slight marks of rope on your wrists. As soon as you recovered a bit, you took a deep breath, deciding to try and scream to the top of your lungs in case someone could hear you.

"Hey! Someone there? Some crazy jackass has kidnapped me and---!" Suddenly, the heave iron door was opened, a familiar face entering the room.

"Good morning, dearest. I'm so glad you were finally able to open your eyes, you see, it was a bit difficult to get the amount of dose correctly, as I have never tried to keep someone as tiny and beautiful as yourself." Your old bodyguard entered, the heavy door closing behind him as he brought a tray on one of his hands. "Here, I brought you a few things I know you like." You looked at the delicious-looking food, your mouth watering as you saw all your favourite desserts, together with a bunch of your most beloved fruits. Despite the confusion, you tried to keep it together, looking to the other side and refusing to do what he asked. "Dearest, you've been asleep for over t--" Before he could end his sentence, you had already hit the tray with one of your legs, sending the appetizing food.

"Why the fuck are you here? You failed protecting me-- Fuck, you left my father to die, you're lucky I'm tied here cause I would crush your fucking skull with my---" The crimson-haired man got closer, dangerously close, in fact, his warm breath hitting against your face.

"Oh dear, I always knew you had quite the filthy mouth, but you must have been quite shocked to see that pig like that... I understand, I would never stop loving you for something trivial like that... Nor for anything, to be fair." His cold hands touched your face, the callouses in his hands making you frown even more than before.

"Listen fucker---." The man covered your mouth with his much larger hand, the shivers resulted from the cold shifting into goosebumps from the fear.

"Shh, dear. I understand, no need to explain it to me. I will make sure to re-educate you so you can go back to your natural self, that pig tricked your poor mind, but I will be able to fix it for you, see? I’m being such a good man for you, after all, I was supposed to kill you, but I even decided to turn my back to my client and let you live, I even avoided someone to think that you were alive. It was a bit of a hassle, but hey, I would do everything for you, dear.” The man finally got away from your face, taking the tray that had fallen to the ground because of you, together with the food that had been smashed to the ground. “It’s ok, dear. I understand this will take some time, luckily, I have all the time in the world, you just need some… hard love. I’m sure you will start to appreciate my company and care soon enough.” With that, the man smiled one last time to you, leaving the room with the sound of the heavy iron door closing, leaving you in the middle of the dark.

Since that moment, your slow torture started. The man left you in the dark for who knows how long, covering your eyes with a soft cloth, only taking out when he was around so he could start to… kind of associate him with the light, you supposed. He kept bringing you scrumptious plates, from your favourite foods to exotic ones. Of course, that was until the… maybe over tenth time you had throw his tray to the ground. That time, he simply took the tray, taking once again all the food on the floor and leaving in complete silence. The next time you was him was after… maybe one whole day? Your stomach kept rumbling, and what began as anger quickly became desperation, then crying and finally crying while screaming.

By around two months, your mind and body had become completely accustomed to his timetable and behaviour, letting him pet you as you ate what he brought, letting his hands clean your whole body and hair, not even complaining when you felt his hands drift towards your more private parts. Scarlatella looked extremely content with his work, rewarding you with constant praises and even a “pretty” collar for you. Despite it was a clear symbol of your turn into a kind of pet, the collar was beautiful, the gold glistening under the cold light as the beautiful charm with the form of a heart made a small noise of a bell each time you moved.

“Do you like it? I wanted something to congratulate you, after all, you have finally graduated. You are now back to your natural self.” You nodded, letting your head fall on his lap as he kept petting you. “I was thinking about giving you whatever you want, you can just ask.” He waited patiently until you were able to think about something other than the warmth that was coming from his body.

“…Freedom. I want to leave this room, please.” His eyes widened a bit, perhaps surprised that you were still able to think about your freedom.

“Dear, I know this can get suffocating, but you must stay here, it’s for your sa—”

“Please! I can feel my mind… slipping. This is getting worse each day, I… I don’t want do it, but the constant darkness is making me… think about… Just give me a bigger place, I don’t need something as fancy as my house, just something bigger than this room.” Scarlatella looked at you with a puzzled expression, his hand still massaging your scalp as he thought. Finally, he answered, not before letting a deep sigh.

“I suppose that’s fine. I can think of a story to explain your sudden appearance. Give me a few days so I can get everything ready, yeah? Promise I will do it.” As soon as he said that, he got up from the sofa that was in the room, quickly leaving the place before you were able to beg him to keep his promise.

Contrary to what you believed, Scarlatella kept his promise, coming back with a small suitcase and some clothes for you to change yourself, taking your hand as he made you walk with your eyes covered by that well-known cloth. When you were finally told to take it off, you were in the middle of a beautiful flower field. All the flowers were spider lilies, making it seem as if it was some kind of blood-filled battlefield.

“Do you like it, dear? I had to pay some money so they could build this house, together with planting these flowers.” He kept his grip around your wrist tight, not hurting you, but not letting go either. As he opened the door, you finally saw the house. It was a beautiful villa, completely decorated with cottage-like furniture.

“Yes, I like it.” Scarlatella smiled, a strange sheen in his gaze.

Soon, you realised why was he looking at you like that. You had fallen completely into his plan for turning you into his wife. He had created some complex story about you being his wife for over eight years, having to separate because you had been taking care of your sick father while he worked to the bone to get you as much as he could for the moment you came back to him. Everyone in the small hometown believed him, after all, he had been working there as farmer for quite some time, using it as a mere disguise so he could plan every little detail, creating a perfect façade so everyone would simply nod and smile to whatever he said. After that, your role became the one of a housewife, making you bake, cook, and clean, keeping the house warm and tidy by the time he arrived back home.

Soon, the days started to melt together, and your deep engraved hatred for him turned into a less bitter resentment. After all, he was the one that was providing for you, keeping you all warm and cozy while buying every single thing you asked him for, never doing anything that could hurt you. Slowly but surely, your mind started to reshape once again, now seeing him as a still intimidating, yet protecting figure. With that, it was finally the perfect ground for Scarlatella to create his perfect little wife.

Since that moment, Scarlatella started to become more physical with you, helping you around with all the cooking, “accidentally” rubbing his groin against your ass while he pretended to search for something on the top shelf. Not only that, but he made sure you could see him as a capable man, carrying the animals over his shoulder with ease, other times he was simply fixing stuff around the place. But the last moment he needed for your brain to start to see him as a possible partner was when you found him around town playing with the small children from the orphanage. He was surrounded by all of them, lifting them around and making them fly across the hair, his relaxed smile plastered on his face as he tried to make them control themselves as they waited their turn. Your eyes widened a bit, surprised to see him in such a… casual scene. So when he got back home, his working shirt slightly drenched because of the sudden rain that had started quite recently. The shirt was getting clung on his body, making his lean and muscular body stand out even further.

“Hey dear, how was your day? I hope it went great. Sorry I’m late, can’t believe I got caught in the middle of the rain while I was finishing some errands…” As he said that, he made his way around the kitchen, taking off his shirt and leaving it hanging on one of the chairs, surrounding your smaller frame with his arms. “I missed you so much, dear.” You tried your hardest to pretend not to notice, but of course you did, fuck, his groin was rubbing against your ass, and even then, it was clear that he was quite… gifted, down there. Still, you simply tightened the grip on the knife, biting your lips as you kept trying to focus on the food you were cooking.

Ever since that moment, you were no longer able to control yourself, always orbiting around him with your hand tightly wrapped around his arm every single time any other persons started to look way too affectionately at him. Scarlatella quickly noticed this, looking completely pleased with how he had been able to fix your precious little brain into a loving wife. In fact, he even started to pamper you even further, kissing your forehead every morning, asking you to let him shower together… Of course, you said yes.

So then, the two of you entered the bathroom, slowly undressing each other as the water started to warm up. “Love, you look so nice like this… All naked for me… I could just eat you up.” His hand drifted around your body, making your body shiver under his hands, and even if you were about to kiss him, he got away, extending his hand so he could help you get inside the bathtub. “Let me help you, dear.”

As the two of you finally entered the bathtub, he calmly traced your body with the sponge, making sure to scrub your skin without causing any type of harm. Then, he moved to your hair, taking the bottle of shampoo and scrubbing it while he hummed a little tune. Then, he focused on himself, redoing everything he had done to you. As he did that, your naked bodies kept pressing against each other, making you squirm at the slightest touch and forcing you to let small whimpers out every time you felt his lower half rub against your back. Finally, Scarlatella lost his composure as you kept pressing against him on purpose. “Dear… I have a feeling that you’ve been quite, eager to make our relationship more physical, am I right?” His eyes were now fixated on your face, making you feel even more flustered as you avoided his gaze. “Oh sweetheart, if you wanted that, I could have given it to you any time, after all, I do believe it is time we get to expand our little family.” And despite you would have normally shivered in disgust, this idea now started to charm you. So you nodded, accepting whatever he wanted you to do at that point. “Then we should get to business, let me get you ready love.” With that said, Scarlatella finally kissing your lips, his tongue entering your oral cavity as if he had been starving for a long time. “You taste so good… I could stay like this forever.” Scarlatella kept kissing you, his hands starting to glide towards your chest, starting to play with your nipples as his tongue kept exploring your mouth. “Dear… I think we should move to our bedroom; I don’t want your first time to hurt.”

“Oh, that’s fine, not like it’s my first time, you know, I did it a few times before you became my-.” Before you were able to finish your sentence, Scarlatella was already getting the two of you out of the bath, lifting you up and carrying you over to the bedroom he had been preparing for quite some time. Despite his gaze looked a bit crazed out, he let you down softly on the bed.

“It seems I was a bit too gentle with you, that was my fault. I suppose you must prefer someone meaner, treat you as if you were a little fuck toy, I suppose your brain is still not that adapted to having a husband, that’s ok, I will fix it.” With nothing left to say to you, he got on top of you, towering over your smaller body as he started to kiss your neck. “I just wish I could have arrived earlier… Get to be your first, let you make me yours…It’s a shame we had to meet under those circumstances.”  And even regardless his almost apologising words, his actions were crude, clearly showing his uncontrollable desire to make you completely his. “… I should definitely get you pregnant, make sure everyone knows who your husband is, let’s see if any other fucker tries to get with my sweet wife.” As he kept mumbling to himself, his lips started to make a trail towards your chest, moving even further down as your moans got louder. Suddenly, he got away from you for a second, taking something from the small nightstand. Still quiet, he opened the small bottle, letting the sticky liquid help him prepare your pussy for him. “Not like you will need it, apparently you were more prepared than me.”

“Come on, it’s not like we are… fuck, I don’t know, it’s just, it’s not like you are a virgin, right? There’s no need for---”

“I am.” His hands stopped for a second, his fingers a few inches away from entering you. “I’ve been investigating so I could make it as comfortable for you as possible, but that’s ok, I will make sure our next time is perfect… Let’s just use this time for letting you know how this works.” Without further due, Scarlatella started to tease your entrance, rubbing his fingertips against your entrance, while his other hand started to move towards your weak spot, starting to tease your clit as he kept kissing your neck. As the minutes went on, you started to notice a weird warmth inside your cunt, making your tears swell up in your eyes as Scarlatella kept teasing you.

“Stop— Can’t—It feels weird, like really weird, it’s not normal!” Scarlatella smiled wickedly, his eyes darkening as he saw how your pussy kept releasing your sticky fluids, with no shame, he got his face closer, starting to leave kitty licks over your clit before he began to fuck your entrance with his tongue, making you cry due to the overstimulation as he kept stopping just before you could release. This torture kept going for a couple minutes, making you clench the sheets, biting your lips as you kept mumbling barely understandable words: “Please, please… Just—Please! Fuck, please, let me cum, please, please…” Your words kept slurring, making him smile at the beautiful portrait he had been able to turn your gorgeous face into, he caressed your face with one of his hands, his lips still curved into an amused look as your face had become a mixture of snot, tears, and saliva. Suddenly, you felt Scarlatella’s arms wrap around you, lifting you from the bed and letting you lay on his lap, his unclothed erection rubbing against your clit, rocking your body back and forth as he kept taunting you.

“I just can’t believe you preferred some random person over me, love. I’ve waiting for you my whole life, I even learnt all this… tricks to get you to feel as good as possible.” All of sudden, his tip went in, barely letting you get ready as he kept pushing it inside and out, making your eyes water as he kept tormenting you for a few minutes more, his gaze becoming more and more obscure as his erection just kept growing. “Fuck, whatever… I’ll just have to prove you that nobody will ever fuck you like I can, get you pregnant so you can only see me… love me…” His eyes lightened for a second just from the thought, and before you even noticed, your back was once again pressed against the mattress, with Scarlatella towering over you as he was finally able to gradually introduce his whole length, the stretch making you whine and cling to his back. “You feel so good around me, love… Just wait, I’ll fill you up, fill your pretty pussy with my cum so nobody ever tries to get too close to you—You’ll look so pretty with your tummy all round—” As Scarlatella’s hips started to punish your sore cunt, you were finally able to cum, eyes rolling to the back of your head as your legs locked around him, as a poor attempt on getting him to stop for a second.

“Wait—Too soon, I can’t get pregnant yet!” You pushed a bit against his lower abdomen, your hands barely stopping him as they kept shaking because of the constant orgasms that just kept pilling up, forcing your brain to become more and more fuzzy each time. It was then that Scarlatella wrapped his own hands around your waists, using them as mere handles for him to push the tip of his cock just a bit further, just enough for you to cum once more with a pathetic whine. Despite you had already cum all over him, Scarlatella’s thrusts didn’t slow down, if not growing stronger as his mind was already too far gone.

“Gotta get you pregnant—That’s all I need—Fill your pretty pussy with my cock and get you to- Fuck- cream all over my cock, that’s it baby… Cum all over your husband, make a mess on my cock, you’re doing so good love…” His words kept resonating in your mind, almost as if it was some kind of chant, and despite you tried your best to endure it, your brain gave up, after all, Scarlatella had been taking care of you so nicely… It wouldn’t hurt to let him keep doing it for the rest of his life… right? As Scarlatella kept muttering to himself, his cock was already twitching, signifying just how close he was to releasing his essence inside of you. With your mind now completely broken, you smiled, your arms and legs tightening around his waist as his cock kept hammering against your cervix, one of his hands carefully pressing against the lower half of your abdomen, causing the pleasure to just build up even further as he finally released his load inside of you, his constant groans now turning into soft praises and kisses. “You did so good, love… Let me take care of everything from now on, I will make you the happiest wife ever, no need to think about anything, just promise to tell me everything you need or want, yeah? I’ll be the best husband int the world.” His hands kept petting your hair as his cock started to deflate inside you, still remaining inside as he refused to pull out in case some of his essence spilled out. “Let’s wait a bit, love. I will prepare the bath in few minutes; I just want to make sure everything goes correctly.” He peppered a few kisses all over your face, his hand rubbing your tummy as he kept imagining that near future he had been longing for.

[gingerteafairy]

Bestie I had a fun idea because I loved your Dave w Spanish thoughts! I don’t speak any Spanish past hola, but I speak French and I always thought it would be funny to get a nerdy guy like that and offer to teach him French but it’s like sex things or French kissing instead! It also reminds me of Ten Things I Hate About You hehe

¡Hola! i had to do this sorry my comfort movie mentioned!!!! cameron/bianca is my roman empire, love 'em so much. this is my opportunity to use my duolingo french. dave's ecoute chérie coded

𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒆-𝒎𝒐𝒊

dave lizewski x reader

tags n warnings: language, making out, french sentences are translated. word count: 3k masterlist versão brasileira

Dave sighed, his eyes fixed on you as he walked through the school hallways once more. Your every move was mesmerizing; the lightness with which your skirt moved as you walked, the way your hair swayed gently in the wind, like a whisper of silk. He inhaled deeply, smelling the sweet perfume that left an invisible trail through the hallway, marking its presence in a way that only he seemed to notice.

“No wonder she’s the most popular girl in school.” Marty observed, noticing Dave’s lost look.

“Snap out of it, Dave. This isn’t happening.” Todd said, slamming his locker shut, trying to get Dave’s attention, who seemed lost in his own world.

“Why not? I mean, she’s single. Think I have a chance,” Dave replied without looking away, his head still leaning against the locker, watching you descend the stairs with a grace that made his heart race. “My God, look at the way her feet move, almost like they’re dancing…”

“Okay. That was gross, but hey. I heard she needs a French tutor.” Todd commented, noticing the way Dave quickly turned to him, slamming his hand against the locker with more force than necessary.

“And why didn't you tell me that before?”

“It seems like her parents want her to be perfect at everything.” Marty continued, grabbing a book from his locker as he watched Dave with a mischievous grin.

“Yeah, they’re diplomats. And French is a required language for that kind of position.” Todd added, looking at Dave with a challenge.

“It’s because they’re rich, you know? And they expect her to be fluent in everything.” Marty added, noticing the new sparkle in Dave’s eyes.

“Yeah, Dave, she’s kind of an angel here.” Marty joked, smirking and grabbing a snack before slamming the locker shut. “Completely untouched. Out of our league. Maybe out of our planet.”

“That’s bullshit, ‘cause I planned everything.” Dave stated with a cocky grin, adjusting his coat as if it were a big reveal. “I’m gonna be her tutor. Professeur Lizewski, enchanté.”

“You?” Todd laughed, looking Dave up and down. “You don’t even know what a french kiss is.”

“He’s… Todd. He never kissed anyone. Trigger.” Marty whispered, gesturing with his hand around his neck.

“Hey, I know what I need to know. I got that from my Duolingo hits.” Dave replied defensively, crossing his arms and trying to sound more confident than he felt.

“You literally ignored me on Duolingo the whole fucking year.” Todd retorted, crossing his arms in defiance.

“Because I don’t want to learn latin. Have you ever seen a girl moaning in latin? That’s for nerds like us, who never kiss anyone.” Dave replied, rolling his ankles in a nonchalant manner. “Au revoir, mon amour.”

“It’s mon ami, asshole.” Todd corrected, rolling his eyes as he playfully punched Dave in the arm.

Dave returned home, full of determination. The idea of ​​learning French quickly and effectively seemed simple, but he soon discovered that the verbs were complicated, the sentence structures baffling, and the meaning of everything seemed to slip through his fingers. But he wouldn’t let that get him down. He was willing to do anything to get closer to you.

The next morning, he went straight to school, determined to be a French tutor. After talking to a few teachers and securing his signature, Dave headed to the library, hoping for the best. Or rather, the best he could get.

“Are you the French tutor?” Your voice sounded like a sweet whisper in the air, and Dave blinked rapidly, certain that his heart had skipped a beat.

“Yes. Yeah, that’s me. You can… sit down.” He hurried over, trying to look calm as he gestured to the chair next to him. You nodded with a smile, and Dave had trouble not swallowing hard.

Up close, you were even more mesmerizing. He already knew you were beautiful, but now, feeling the weight of your presence beside him, it was as if every detail of you was sculpted by Debret, painted by Renoir, exposed in the Louvre to leave him speechless. Your skin, your gaze, even the subtle way you arranged your hair. You looked like a painting he couldn't stop admiring.

“So... how's it going to be?” You asked, your eyes fixed on him with slight anxiety, your hands resting on your lap. He could see the effort to appear confident, but he also saw the vulnerability there, and that made him even more fascinated.

“We'll start with the basics.” Dave coughed, trying to disguise his heart, which seemed to want to come out of his mouth. He adjusted his position in the chair, trying to hide his nervousness. “So, what's your biggest difficulty?”

“Can I be honest?” You asked, your shoulders tensing slightly as you prepared to say something that seemed heavy.

“Sure.” He smiled, trying not to notice the movement of your cleavage that appeared when you bent over slightly.

“I know nothing.” You confessed, the sigh that escaped your lips conveying the relief of a weight being lifted.

Dave’s lips curved into a satisfied smile. Oh, he would be your salvation. He would make this happen, even if it was the last thing he did.

“Ne pas y aller de main morte.” He murmured, leaning back in his chair with a self-assured look, a twinkle in his eye.

“What was that?” You tilted your head, your eyes curious.

“I said I’ll do my best.” He smiled, his heart racing as she looked at him with bright, impressed eyes. The hours spent on learning thirty common expressions in French were finally paying off. “Okay. Let’s start with the simplest words. Then we’ll move on to phrases like this.”

And there he was, ready to show you that, despite not being an expert in French, he was determined to be the best tutor you could have.

“Okay.” You grinned, grabbing your notebook from your bag and getting ready to write down everything Dave was about to teach.

To be honest, he had no idea what he was doing, but somehow, his reasoning was the same as when he recorded game tutorials. It was working. He began to notice the changes in your gaze, which had previously seemed lost, and was now more attentive, absorbing the words that came out of his mouth with visible interest.

But what made him most proud was seeing how you wrote everything down with your impeccable handwriting. He almost got lost in the soft strokes of your handwriting, in the detail of the ink stain that appeared on the corner of your hand, where he had accidentally touched it. He marked you. And that was good. Very good.

Classes soon became part of the routine. Twice a week, always at the same time. You were his only student, and honestly, he didn't complain one bit about it. He loved every moment alone with you, even if it was only for an hour every Tuesday and Thursday. He no longer knew if he was living for classes or anxiously awaiting Tuesdays to arrive.

"No... yeah. Wait, that's not how you write it." He said, leaning slightly closer, looking at the word you had just written. “It’s S’il vous plaît. You wrote vus.”

“Oh, shit…” You cursed under your breath, scribbling the word and correcting the mistake.

“No need to stress. You’re just getting started.” He reassured, noticing how you even improved the handwriting of the word as you corrected the mistake. “And to be honest, you’re pretty good.”

“I had the best teacher.” You praised, looking at him with a smile that made Dave’s heart beat faster. He flinched a little, realizing how close he was to you now. “You’re so patient.”

“No, I’m just… doing my job.” He shrank back further, heat rising to his face, an unmistakable blush he couldn’t hide.

“No, seriously. I know what I’m talking about.” You laughed, setting the pen aside, your eyes shining. “All the teachers my parents put me in were boring and I never learned anything. Not even a S’il vous plaît.”

“Really? That’s… terrible.” He replied, scratching the back of his head, trying to disguise his own shyness with an attempt at empathy.

“Yeah. But you’re great. I’m making great progress.” You smiled. “Can we have another class this week?”

“Another?” Dave choked, grabbing the back of his hair as if to grab onto something to steady himself. “Yeah… whenever you want. I mean… are you free tomorrow at this time?”

“No, I have piano lessons on Friday…” you replied, the disappointment veiled in your voice, as if you were disappointed about it.

“Oh, piano. Sure. Of course…” he mumbled, feeling a hint of frustration, but trying to hide it.

“But we can continue now and learn more… French.” You suggested, your hand tightening the hem of your skirt with visible nervousness, which made Dave feel even more anxious.

“What? Oh. Right. How?” He asked, not fully understanding the change in direction of the conversation.

“Have you ever French kissed?” You asked, with a mischievous smile on your face, which made Dave freeze for a moment.

“What?” He exclaimed, speaking louder than he intended, and immediately covered his mouth, remembering that they were in the library. 

He ran his hand over his face, trying to calm his heart, which seemed to want to come out of his mouth. When he looked at you again, he realized that you were also beet-red. You looked down at the floor as the embarrassment drowned you like a sea wave, before reaching out for his hand, your eyes meeting Dave’s again, a soft glow and a persistent smile.

“Do you wanna try?” You asked, your eyes lingering on his mouth before returning to his gaze, your lips slightly curved in a shy but determined smile.

“I…” Dave sighed, his gaze quickly scanning the library. There was no one around, and the area they were in was more secluded. A plus for his pathological shyness. “I will, if you want, and if it’s not… you know… uncomfortable.”

Doubt and desire were as present in his eyes as in the soft expression of your voice, and he knew, at that moment, that nothing would be the same after that simple question. You leaned forward, silencing him with your lips on his with a feather-like peck. Dave took a deep breath, tightening his fingers on the chair. You pulled away to look at him, your parted lips looking at you through your eyelashes.

“Embrasse-moi [kiss me.]” You replied, licking your lips.

“Avec plaisir[with pleasure],” He whispered, enjoying the texture of your mouth. Dave swallowed hard, raising a hand to tuck a strand of your face behind your ear.

He licked his own lips, moving closer carefully, giving you the opportunity to pull away, but you were still there, eyes closed, just waiting for him.

He closed his eyes and kissed you, parting your lips slightly and taking your lower one to suck carefully. You did the same to him and opened your mouth a little wider to introduce your tongue. Dave moaned, almost falling apart at the touch. He did the same, although he had no idea what he was doing, just following your lead.

You touched his curls, so soft like plush, resting your hand on his jaw, which moved as he deepened the kiss. Your taste was similar to your perfume, he loved it. But not as much as you loved Dave's taste. It was like chemistry, explosive and with the right ingredients.

The kiss was broken naturally, both of you looking at each other through your eyelashes, the heat between you evident that didn't need to be said. You were still close, very close. And as if calling for another round, you approached for another kiss. This time, Dave's hand was on your waist, almost at the crease of your hip. The fabric of the dress that molded your body was soft in his hands. Blessed be the design that made polyester look so good on you.

Your other hand flew over to his shoulder. It was firm, strong, rigid with work. It slid again to his collarbone, between his chest, up to his biceps, squeezing between your fingers. It was even better. Again, you pulled away. Even hotter. Burning.

And you wanted more.

Closing your eyes again, your mouth opened wider. Dave was getting the hang of it, having more courage to mark your skin and pull your lip between his teeth. Something he didn't even know he was capable of. Much less being able to know that your body was warm, with a heavenly smell that, somehow, he knew what it was. You were excited. For him.

"Excuse me, dear students." The librarian's hoarse voice brought you back to reality, like a bucket of cold water. That brief magical moment was interrupted, and the two of you pulled away instantly, wiping your mouths in a hurry, as if nothing had happened. "What do you think this place is, exactly?"

“A library, ma’am.” Dave answered quickly, lowering his head, trying to hide the wave of embarrassment that was taking over him. You, in turn, lowered your face, trying to hide the heat that was rising in your cheeks, sinking into the table.

“Well, I thought it was a motel, by the amount of sighs, moans and annoying kissing noises that were echoing around here.” She scoffed, shaking her head with an air of pure indignation. Her sharp gaze seemed to descend on you both like a blade.

“No, ma’am. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” Dave promised, his voice nervous, his palm sweaty, a drop running down his temple. He tried to control the tremor that threatened to invade his voice, but the embarrassment was stronger.

“Well, I hope so.” The librarian hissed, leaning in to analyze the two of you with an appraising look, as if she was about to detect another mistake. She turned and walked away, her high heels clicking down the hallway, the sound of the chair indicating that she was sitting at her station again.

Dave let out the breath he had been holding as if he had escaped from a nightmare. He threw himself on the table, resting his head on his arms, and for a moment, it seemed like the world could go on. You turned your head, and it was impossible for him not to notice the smile that formed on your face, even with all the shame still stamped on it.

“Oh my God, I was so nervous,” You whispered, the low laugh escaping your lips, muffled by shame, but impossible to contain. “.I thought It was my last day on earth.”

“Don’t even start. You just bent down and I had to face it alone.” He whispered back, approaching you, still feeling the adrenaline of the situation.

“Mon héro.” You flirted with a disconcerting lightness, your hair falling over your face in a way that seemed to even collaborate with the little secret shared between the two of you, which made Dave smile, as if he couldn’t believe it was happening. 

“Ne pas faire d’omelette sans casser des oeufs.” He shrugged, scratching out his best French accent, trying to ease the tension.

“I think I get that one. You can’t make an omelet without breaking eggs.” You replied with a smile, your eyes shining at the pride that sparked in Dave’s eyes. He had really taught you something. That seemed… important to him.

“Je te drague là. [I’m flirting with you]” He winked, as if French was the magic key to melting away any remaining embarrassment. The surprise? It was working.

“Tu me plais. [I’m into you],” you confessed, biting your lip with a mischievous smile, the feeling of flirting in French making the conversation even more electrically charged.

“Yeah?” Dave repeated, his eyes playing with yours, completely captivated by the way you were looking at him.

You moved even closer, your bodies almost touching, and his lips so close to yours that you could feel the heat of each other. “Tu es très sexy [You’re so sexy].” You whispered kittenish, and honestly, it didn’t even need to be translated.

“Oh, don’t talk like that… S’il vous plaît. J’ai envie de toi [I want you],” he confessed, his eyes closing as he felt your fingers caressing his hair, a sly smile forming on his lips. “Je peux t’inviter à sortir? [Can I ask you out?]” He asked, his voice full of shy but intense desire.

“Oui. Je n’arrête pas de penser à toi [Yes. I can’t stop thinking about you.].” You smirked, your eyes shining with joy as you moved even closer, placing a quick peck on his lips. 

Dave closed his eyes, still feeling the taste of the kiss in the air, and when he slowly opened them, he couldn't resist. He got closer once more, returning the kiss with the same intensity, but now with the certainty that nothing would be the same.

“Where did you learn those phrases?” He asked, his eyes fixed on yours, a mixture of surprise and admiration.

“You're not the only one who learns French to flirt.” You laughed softly, teasing him with your gaze. And, in that moment, he knew that it didn't matter how imperfect your French was. He wanted to be your teacher for the rest of his life. Actually, for you to be his teacher.

[fandom-lover2]

Actions Speak Louder Than Words

Miko has a bad day, and Optimus learns what body language is.

Word Count - 3040

-image not mine-

Today was… normal.

As normal as one could get when their guardian is a 20 foot tall metal warrior from another planet, but today hadn’t been any different than the others.

Woke up, got ready for Saturday (Ratchet’s favourite day because we were at the base all day) and hitched a ride with Bee and Raf to base.

We were the first humans here. Ratchet and Optimus were already hard at work at the monitors, scanning for energon and logging reports and doing whatever it was that they continuously did at those computers.

After exchanging greetings and brief conversation, Raf and I settled down while Bee waited for Bulk so patrol routes could be run.

It didn’t take long for the roar of a motorbike’s engine to fill the tunnel and Jack was rolling in on Arcee, Miko and Bulk close behind.

“Thought you had work today?” I called down to Jack, not moving from my spot at the desk with the human monitors where I was preparing to start my history essay on the similarities between Ancient Greek mythology and Shakespear (don’t judge, I find it interesting).

“Schedules got moved around. Apparently I’m ‘Working too much’ and they don’t want to pay me.” Jack replied, beginning up the stairs.

What followed was the sound of two Autobots transforming, and then silence.

I glanced over my shoulder, making sure Bulkhead had actually brought Miko. There she was, walking up the stairs behind Jack. I frowned, but turned back to my papers.

“Where to today, boss?” Bulkhead questioned.

“Once you have restocked your energon, we are going to northern Alaska. Our scanners have sensed an energon signal.”

“If it’s black, fight back.  If it’s brown, lie down. If it’s white, goodnight.” I warned jokingly to Jack and Miko, not looking up from my textbook.

For mid-April, Alaska would be warm enough now that they could go along and maybe not freeze. That also meant the bears would be out and about.

Me personally, as much as I wanted to tag along, this essay would take a while and with spring break around the corner, I didn’t have time to go off on excursions.

That’s why I came here to work on it, Ratchet would keep me from getting too distracted. I’d texted last night asking as much.

“Eh, I have some homework to catch up on.” Jack answered, and I heard him pull out the chair at the desk near the couch and get settled. Beside me, Raf was already lost to the world of coding and typing away on his laptop with ferocity.

I waited for three breaths, and then frowned when there wasn’t a reply. I spun in my wheelie chair, and watched as Miko sat down on the couch.

Ok, what was up?

Firstly, she didn’t sit anywhere, she flopped. And secondly, she never took up only one end of the couch. Usually, she dramatically lounged across it while whining that it was taking forever for Bulkhead to get ready so they could head out. And also, what was with the silence. Not even a sarcastic greeting to Ratchet.

Something was up with her. It wasn’t her birthday, wasn’t a Japanese traditional holiday she was missing, wasn’t school related cause yesterday she had a good day.

I glanced over at Jack and he was turned in his seat too, looking just as confused.

He caught my gaze and gave the ‘you see it too?’ look.

‘Yeah. What’s up with her?’ I shrugged subtly.

Jack raised his brows slightly, ‘I don’t know. She didn’t say anything to me.’

 I rubbed my lips together, my go to for thinking.

‘You should talk to her.’ Jack prompted, jerking his chin just a bit.

‘Me? Why me?’ I frowned.

‘Well I can’t. I’m a guy.’ Jack answered, looking down at his chest and then back up to me.

‘Fine.’ I agreed, rolling my eyes. Men are such weirdos.

With a sigh that didn’t need to be that dramatic, I got off my chair and made my way to Miko. On my journey, I happened to glance over and found Optimus watching me with an intense stare.

It was almost enough to make me stumble over my own feet.

I had long since given up trying to understand Optimus, mostly because there wasn’t much to understand. He was a simple guy, someone who carried a lot of weight on his shoulders and had only made it so far in life by concealing his emotions.

If he was pissed, you’d know it in the way he spoke. If he was at ease, he’d hang around a little longer in the common area before heading off to wherever it was he went. If he was stressed, he’d assign himself the longest patrol route so he’d have more time to get away. Easy as that.

This, open and intense studying, was a new one. A part of me wanted to ask, but I was on a mission already. Sky and ocean blue would have to wait.

As I got closer, it was obvious something was wrong. She sat hunched, eyes glued to the floor and hands folded in her lap. Her eyes were puffy and a little red, and she sniffed when I got close.

Crying, hunched over, hands in good posture… oh god. She was going back to Japan.

“Hey Meeks.” I greeted, sitting on the sofa beside her.

There was the long approach, of asking how she was, and then going through all the small talk. Or, I could ask it upfront and get this going. Knowing her, the only way to get it out was to hit her hard.

“What’s wrong?” She looked up at me, and as it always happens when someone asked ‘Are you ok?’ when you already aren’t, the water works started.

“They won’t let me dye my hair.”

Between the beginning to cry breaking her voice and the fact that she lunged at me, I only got some of the words before she was burying herself into my chest and sobbing. My arms wrapped around her, shuffling forward so I could pull her into my chest and cradle her closer.

“What?” I asked, needing to hear that again.

“My host parents.” I could faintly make out. “They won’t let me dye my hair.”

Her outburst had caused everyone to look at us, and Bulkhead was rushing over from the supply station, an adorably confused face that suited a toddler better than all 18 feet of him looking to me for the answers.

Either he didn’t know how to start this conversation, or he’d not seen something was wrong on the ride over. Either way, I was now being watched like the one with the answers.

Miko sobbed into my shirt again and I realized I was supposed to be doing something.

Ok, let’s back up to what she said. Her host parents wouldn’t let her dye her hair. Well, the pink was starting to wash out a little, leaving only the bleach behind. And, her hair had grown out a bit since our first meeting. And, based on what she’d told me about her host family, they did seem very ‘stick up the ass’ about this kinda thing.

Still, not letting her dye her hair. Come on, assholes. It’s part of who she was, her personality. It was just hair dye.

Miko sobbed again, and I continued to hold her close.

It was just hair dye, and yes it made her seem like a delinquent, but in the land of Freedom, let her live. No one was getting hurt.

“So fuck them.” I spoke, plain and simple.

“Y/n!” Jack chastised.

“What?” I demanded.

Miko had released me in her shock and was now sitting upright, wiping her tears.

I turned to Optimus. “Mind if I pull Bulk for a couple hours?”

He didn’t take long to consider it. “You may.”

I smiled back at him in thanks, standing and heading for my bag, which was left by my books. I paused just briefly, but then slammed my textbook closed and slung my bag onto my shoulder. I could do it later.

“Coming?” I asked Miko, making my way to the stairs and skipping down them.

“Where?” Miko asked, hesitant to follow.

“To buy hair dye.” I called over my shoulder.

I heard her gasp, then scramble to rush down behind me. Bulkhead transformed, opening his front doors for us.

Miko reached me as we got to the bottom of the stairs, slamming into me from behind and encasing me in a hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” she repeated over and over.

“Yeah, yeah. Get in.” I redirected, shrugging her off.

“Bulk, play something awesome!” Miko instructed, rushing to get into his passenger seat. A moment later, something metal and ear assaulting blasted from his speakers.

I regretted this already.

---

I, thankfully, got to choose the music on the ride back, so Elle King announced our arrival back to the base.

Bulk pulled to a stop and we jumped out his cab, me pulling the two plastic bags with us.

Miko took off into the base, not a glance back as she shouted “Come on!”

I had one pit stop to make before we commandeered the bathrooms.

“Jack!” I called, jerking my head for him to meet me halfway as I started up the stairs.

He did, and I handed over the second bag.

“What’s this?” he asked, glancing inside to find soda, candy and some bags of chips.

“Do not disturb tax. We’re having a girl’s day.”

Spinning on my heels, I marched back down the stairs and made my way into the base.

---

I flopped onto the old chair with a groan, my back protesting. Three hours of standing was not easy.

But hey, Miko has bright pink ends and was currently kicking Raf’s ass at Mario Cart, so it was worth it. Kinda.

This shirt had been one of my favorites and now it was bleached to all hell.  And my ears were still ringing from the speaker we’d used.

But hey, karaoke was the bomb. Totally worth it.

I moved my hands to rest on my back, using them to lean backwards and stretch my spine.

Primus, what time was it anyway?

Jack had left a couple hours ago for his shift and said his mom had made us stuff for dinner that’d he bring back. Miko and Raf would be getting ready to head home soon.

Jack and I would probably spend the night. June had nightshift and my parents were out of town again so there wasn’t a reason for either of us to make the trip back.

Spinning the chair around, I opened my textbook again. Interlacing my fingers and giving them a crack, I started up my laptop and got busy.

At first I struggled to find a point to start on, but once finding a cool quote online, the words started flowing and flowing.

I apparently missed Raf and Miko’s goodbye and Jack’s arrival because the next thing I knew, Ratchet was using a digit to cover my screen.

“Oi!’ I turned to glare up at him.

“I understand all the well putting your health aside for a project, but you need food and sleep.”

I glanced down at my phone and tapped the screen, 11:34pm shining back at me.

Oh scrap, I had been here for almost 4 hours. How was that even possible?

I looked around the base. Optimus was watching with just as much concern as the medic, Jack asleep on the couch already. Well that explained why my eyes were burning and why my stomach ached so fiercely.

“Yeah, ok.” I conceded, rubbing my eyes. “Lemme just save this quick.”

Ratchet relented, moving his digit so I could quickly save the document before gently closing my laptop.

Standing, almost every bone and joint in my body cracked. Ratchet cringed, having verbally stated his hate when I did that many times before.

Barely having enough energy to shuffle, I made my way to where ‘dinner’ sat cold. Eh, lasagna was better cold anyway.

Grabbing a plastic fork, I ate straight from the glass dish, barely able to keep my eyes open. Ratchet wished me a goodnight and I returned the sentiment between yawns.

I had just finished all I was going to eat and was preparing to get settled on the smaller sofa when Optimus walked over and held out his servo for me. No need to tell me twice.

I climbed abord and let him carry me to his room. When we got there, he sat on his berth, and then swung his legs over and got settled on his back while I situated myself on his chestplates.

The pillow and blanket that were left in his room for occasions like this were brought up for me and I thanked him, curling in onto him.

Yeah, I slept on his chest when I slept over. And yes, it was extremely dangerous but he was yet to roll over in his sleep and kill me so we’d keep doing it.

“Y/n,” he started.

I hummed in the form of a reply for him to continue, fluffing my pillow.

“You planned to do your school work earlier, but then when Miko confessed her distress, you abandoned your work to help her. Why?”

What kinda question was that?

“She needed me.” I answered simply, shifting slightly so I could look him in the optics. “I could always do the work later. She needed me then.”

Optimus seemed to accept that answer. “How did you know she was in trouble?” I went to answer, but he continued. “And those actions you and Jack exchanged, almost as if you were having a conversation, but without words. How was that possible?”

I huffed a laugh, getting settled once again and closing my eyes. “Body language. We could read each other through our actions, and those translated into words. Same thing with how Miko was acting. She wasn’t talking, sitting by herself, hunched into herself. She was sad. Jack shrugged, meaning he didn’t know why.”

I paused, thinking of how I could possibly explain it any further and found there really wasn’t much more I could say. Body language just was.

Thinking back on it, the bots never really did speak through body language. All conversations were verbal, and I’d never seen them silently gesture to one another before.

There wasn’t really a way to explain it to someone. You could explain some of the actions, but it was so ingrained in human culture, it was never a need explain. It was the universal language, though now I guess it was only the human language.

“I’ll teach you sometime.” I said through a yawn, settling down further into his warm metal.

“Rest well, My Spark.” Optimus agreed, bringing up his servo to settle over me.

I drifted off to sleep moments later, the sound of his spark beating steadily in my ear.  

----

“You are… cold.” Optimus finally settled on his answer, which was so far from the correct answer Miko and Raf dissolved into giggles.

Jack looked wounded. “Am I that bad at acting?” he lamented, giving up and walking away.

The intended action was bored, or uninterested, but to the Cybertronian warrior, somehow sitting with a sigh and resting your head on your fist meant being cold.

These lessons were taking a lot longer than I thought they would, and apparently more coaching than I’d imagined.

Body language was seriously something none of the bots knew. In fact, Ratchet had laughed at the concept until I’d explained to him some of the common actions we did.

He then grumbled about how these pointers would have been helpful when dealing with Agent Fowler, like it was our fault no one debriefed him on human mannerisms.

“Bored. He was bored.” I answered, standing too. This was not going well.

“He is not the only one.” Arcee mumbled.

I turned to glare over at her. “No one asked you to join in.” I muttered even softer than her quip.

“You don’t like Arcee.” Optimus blurted out.

Jack barked out a laugh so hard he missed the chair he was aiming for and hit the floor. Miko and Raf dissolved into more giggles.

“Well that only took 6 months.” I sighed. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea anymore.

The blue and pink stabby stabby femme turned to look at me, her optics narrowed. I looked away to avoid her gaze.

No doubt this would come back to bite me in the ass later on.

“You are embarrassed.” Optimus helpfully decided to test his knowledge.

He wasn’t wrong, but I wasn’t too embarrassed. I wasn’t trying to hide my dislike for her. But being called out in front of her by him was a little harsh.

“Good work, Optimus.” I rewarded his observation. The proud little smile he awarded himself was too adorable.

All jokes aside, we were making some progress. And once I’d see the bots use some of our gestures when they’d been sneaking up on ‘Cons and couldn’t talk.

In some ways, us humans were actually helping out there. And teaching these ancient bots something new.

And Optimus was like a little puppy, so excited to learn more and prove his skills, which were still in development but he was getting there.

We still had to work on his ability to read the room, and when to keep his observations to himself.

But we’d get there.

To save everyone from the embarrassment, the tones sounded for energon signals being picked up.

“Time to roll!” Miko cheered, like she going to go anywhere.

“Sit down.”

“You are authoritative.”

“Optimus, just go out… there, somewhere!” I snapped, gesturing to the opening portal.

This was seriously turning into something I regretted.

The Prime walked over to his screen, and made a plan with his team, and then just before slipping through the groundbridge, he turned to me and said, “You are annoyed.”

“Optimus!” I picked up an empty soda can and yeeted it towards him.

I seriously needed to rethink this decision.

[supernovafics]

𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

"i'll be there for you" universe masterlist

pairing: bestfriend!roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 5.7k words

warnings: explicit language, so so much angst (but with a happy ending), some fluff at the end, just a whole lot of emotions in this one!

summary: in which during steve’s birthday ski trip to colorado everything he’s been keeping from you finally comes out 

author's note: i had the idea for this specific one probably since the beginning of this series and now here we finally are many many months later<333 also this one is very much that one episode of friends coded where they were supposed to go skiing but never did. not once do i actually write them skiing in this but i promise the thought was there lol

general note: everything in this universe/series can be read as standalone oneshots but to understand the full “lore” it would prob be best to read the other stuff too<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Winter 1986

When you first suggested the idea a month before Steve’s birthday, Robin and Eddie thought that a seventeen hour car ride to Denver sounded like hell. But, it luckily didn’t take a lot to convince them to agree and come along for the weekend trip. Because aside from gas and food, it was essentially a free trip to Colorado. 

You’d all be staying at the cabin that your parents and Steve’s went to during Thanksgiving; which, after enduring an hour-long phone call with your mom when they came back from the trip because she wanted to tell you all about it, you learned that the place was really nice and they all were happy about buying it as a timeshare before even seeing it in person. She also told you that if you and Steve and some friends ever wanted to use it, you could, and you only responded with a half-hearted, “Sure, that would be nice,” because you just wanted to get off the phone, but months later you thought it could be a cool thing to do for Steve’s birthday.

You mentioned it to him first and he liked it, saying that it sounded fun and it would be hilarious to see you finally attempt skiing. You only rolled your eyes and playfully hit his arm in response, and then you mentioned the trip idea that night to Robin and Eddie when you all were on your way to the movies. And once they agreed, the plan became set. 

It was barely four in the morning on Friday, the day before Steve’s birthday, when you all bunched into your car instead of Eddie’s van because he didn’t think it would be able to sustain that long of a road trip. Which, after spending many, many times in the old van, you completely agreed with him. 

The drive surprisingly wasn’t that unbearable— Steve drove a lot of the time because he didn’t really mind it, you forced everyone to play dumb car ride games to help pass the time, Eddie controlled the music for most of the drive, and Robin had to go to the bathroom every hour until she fell asleep for most of the afternoon and evening. When the four of you made it to Denver around ten, you simply picked your rooms and then went to bed because of how tired you all were. 

You woke up at some random time in the middle of the night to use the bathroom, and the loud creakiness of the wooden floors annoyed you and washed away most of your tiredness. When you noticed that it was a little after twelve, you went to Steve’s room, which was right across from yours. You gave his door a quick knock before walking in, the bright moonlight shining through the open curtain of one of the windows did enough to let you see him in bed. He was fast asleep, buried beneath the covers and softly snoring. 

You lightly tapped his back to stir him awake and pulled the blanket off of his head a bit, which revealed his messy bedhead that you forced yourself not to laugh at.

Steve turned his head and looked up at you for a brief moment before letting out a soft, “Hey.”

You smiled at him. “Happy birthday, Stevie.” 

You could tell that he was too tired to playfully roll his eyes at the nickname you had for him that usually only came out during moments like these or whenever you were drunk. 

“Thanks,” He said instead, smiling back at you and letting out a small yawn. 

You walked around to the other side of the bed and got in, pulling the blanket over your legs. “Also, I’m sorry, but I’m an idiot and forgot to pack your present, so you’ll get it when we get back home Monday night.” 

He turned on his side to face you and rubbed his eyes. “Can I know what it is?” 

You nodded. “It’s that denim jacket that you saw a few weeks ago at our usual thrift store. I convinced you not to buy it because I wanted to get it for you. I went back and bought it the next day, and I also put some pins on it that I thought you’d like.”

Steve gave you a small tired smile. “Nice, I knew that you actually liked the jacket.”   

You laughed a bit. “I was honestly surprised that you didn’t immediately see through my lie.”

Steve didn’t say anything in response to that, and instead, you noticed his eyes slipping shut for a brief moment before he was looking at you in the darkness again. You smiled as you pulled the blanket off of you and got out of the bed.

“Okay, I’m gonna go. I’ll see you in the morning when we all go out for breakfast,” You told him, referring to the diner about ten minutes away that you had passed when you all were driving to the cabin and it looked fairly nice.   

“You can stay if you want,” Steve said as he turned and watched you head toward the door, and you shook your head at his words. 

“I know it’s only been a couple of hours, but I really like my bed,” You told him. It actually surprised you how easily you had found comfort in the full-sized bed. “So, goodnight and happy birthday again, Steven.”

You noticed his amused smile as he spoke. “No ‘Stevie’ this time around?”

“I wanted to spare you for a second.”

“That’s very considerate of you.”

“You’re welcome, Stevie,” You said with a nod and playful smile before you opened the door. 

You closed it behind you and then headed across the hall to the room that was designated as yours for the weekend. 

“Wait,” Hearing Steve’s voice at that moment surprised you; you hadn’t heard his door open again or the annoying creak of the floor. 

You turned to look at him, dropping your hand from your doorknob, and even in the darkness of the hallway you could tell that he looked much more awake than when you had left him just moments ago. 

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What’s wrong?” 

“I need to tell you something,” He said softly, and those words immediately made your mind travel back to that conversation you two had after playing basketball in the park. 

“Is it what you’ve been holding out on talking to me about for the past few weeks?” 

He gave you a small nod. “Yeah…”

During that conversation in his car all those weeks ago, he had said that what was going on with him was too hard to explain right then and you decided not to push him further on it because you knew that he’d tell you eventually. 

You weren’t entirely sure why you suddenly felt worried about it all and what he was going to say to you in this moment; maybe it was because of the look on his face that was a solid mix between serious and nervous. “Okay. What is it?” 

“I love you.”

The breath you let out was a mix between a laugh and sigh of relief because you were completely unfazed by his words. “Jesus, don’t scare me like that again. I love you too, Stevie.” 

Was that all he had to tell you? That didn’t entirely make sense to you because it wasn’t like you two hadn’t said those words to each other a million times before. You expected him to laugh and smile along with you, but he only shook his head at first, which made you confused all over again. 

“No,” He said, pushing a nervous hand through his messy hair. “I don’t mean it like how we’ve always meant it anymore. I’m… I’m in love with you.” 

There were only a handful of times that you could say that your best friend had ever rendered you speechless; it was hard to completely stun you into silence when it came to him. Not much that Steve did could ever truly surprise you or throw you for a complete loop because you felt like you knew him well enough that most of his actions just made sense. The last time it happened was when he suggested that you two get Harold, he had never been a huge pet person so it genuinely surprised you when he was the one to come up with the idea. 

And now you had another moment to add to the list; a moment that entirely topped all of the others. 

“Oh.” It was the only word that came to your mind at that moment, and it was barely even a word, it was more so a sound. But, it was the only thing you could say. You didn’t understand how it was possible for your mind to be simultaneously empty and running a thousand miles a minute. “Oh.” 

You could feel Steve’s eyes on you, but yours were fixed on the ground; your sock-covered feet and the dark wooden floors.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything,” He said, breaking the prevailing silence. And when you still couldn’t find any words to say in response to fill the quiet again, he started rambling. “This entire time, these past few weeks, I’ve been waiting for some sort of “perfect” moment to tell you, but nothing ever felt completely right. And then as you were leaving my room just now I realized that I don’t think that I was actually waiting for it to feel right to tell you— because, honestly, there were a bunch of moments where it did feel “right” enough. I was really just holding back because I was worried about what your reaction would be. And I don’t think there’d ever be a moment where I wasn’t at least a little scared or nervous to say it, so I finally decided to just do it now and tell you. But now, fuck, maybe I shouldn’t have said it.” 

“No,” You told him, suddenly somehow finding your voice and finally allowing yourself to meet his eyes. “No, um, honesty is good. You should be, uh— You should be honest about everything. We’re always honest about everything, y’know? It’s good that you said it, I think? Right?” 

You were certain that what you were saying didn’t make any sense; your mouth was moving much faster than your brain. 

A confused look crossed his face. “Okay? Yeah?” 

You dropped your gaze from his and turned around. “I’ll, uh, be right back. I just… I think I just need a second. I don’t know.”

You opened the door to your room and then stepped in, softly closing it behind you and leaving Steve on the other side. You let out a quick breath and leaned back against the door, shutting your eyes in the process, before sliding down it and sitting on the floor. It was cold and you could feel the goosebumps starting to rise on your legs that were only barely covered by your thin pajama shorts. But, the cold was surprisingly soothing, and focusing on that feeling helped clear your mind a bit. Slowly, your thoughts finally started making sense and your brain began moving somewhat normally again. 

The sound of the floor creaking on the other side of the door let you know that Steve was sitting down and leaning back against it too. You wanted to say something to him, but it still felt impossible to find any words right then. 

“I’m sorry,” You could hear his slightly muffled voice through the door. “I really didn’t want this to fuck things up between us, and now it has. And I’m sorry.”

“Things aren’t fucked up,” was what you immediately thought to say— it was actually the first coherent thought that came to your mind in the past few minutes— but, for some reason, it wouldn’t form on your lips. 

Steve’s past words started playing on what seemed like a constant loop in your head. 

I’m in love with you. I’m in love with you. 

The only way you could view this situation, the only way you would allow yourself to view it, was logically. You weren’t considering your own feelings in this moment— whatever they were; you weren’t sure how you were feeling, and you actually refused to think about it right then. 

“It’s not true, though,” You told him, making your voice loud enough so that he could hear you, even though it was hard to speak above a whisper.

“What?” 

“It’s not true,” You said again and then let out a small sigh as you leaned your head back against the door. “You’re not in love with me.” The words felt so weird falling from your lips, so foreign. “You can’t be. Whatever you think you’re feeling now, it’ll blow over in a couple days or whatever.” 

It was a thousand times easier having this conversation without having to look at him right then. You waited for him to agree with you, to maybe even let out a breath of a laugh as he said that you were right. Everything that happened in the past five minutes could become a moment that you two laughed at in a couple of weeks if he simply took it all back.

Remember when you told me that you were in love with me on your birthday? Yeah, that was kinda insane, right?

You actually couldn’t imagine playfully joking about this anytime soon. It would probably be the one thing between you two that would feel weird and awkward for a while— even more awkward than the moment when he accidentally walked in on you naked, and you accidentally did the same thing to him a few months later. But, just like those now unspoken of moments, this would blow over eventually too. 

“No, it is true,” Steve said instead and the absolute certainty in his tone surprised you a bit. “That morning after you picked me up from the bar, it just hit me like a ton of bricks, and it hasn’t changed since. That day at the park when we played basketball, I was jealous that you liked that guy and wanted to get his number, and that’s why I was being kind of an asshole.” He let out a small sigh. “And I did think that maybe all of this would go away and ‘blow over’ too, but it hasn’t. Honestly, it’s only felt more real.” 

You were quiet for a second, not knowing exactly how to respond to that at first. He was being a thousand percent honest— at this point, you knew that— but it was still just so hard to accept it all, to fully let yourself believe it. The thought of him wanting something more changed everything that you had been so sure of for the past almost ten years of friendship. 

“Okay, very dumb question incoming, but you remember us meeting, right?” 

“Yeah, of course,” Steve’s answer was immediate. “That cruise when we were ten. Our parents bumping into each other and meeting and then kind of forcing us to be friends, but we were both glad to hang out with each other instead of them, anyway.”

You nodded at his words even though he couldn’t see you, and felt yourself smiling as you started talking. 

“That trip was our first memory together, and it’s definitely still one of my favorites. We went to the arcade onboard like every day— I beat you a bunch of times at air hockey, but you were way too good at pretty much everything else. And we snuck into that stupid “club” meant for teens almost every night and never got caught, but we were still nervous about getting caught the entire time we were there. From the beginning, it was so clear what we were to each other, y’know? I think by the end of that trip I knew that you were my best friend. I knew that I wanted you in my life forever,” You said, slightly rambling and mindlessly starting to play with the hem of the t-shirt you were wearing, picking at one of the loose strings. “Basically, I guess what I’m trying to say is, the lines were clearly drawn pretty much the first day we met, and they’re not supposed to change.” 

Steve didn’t say anything, and it was then that you wished that you two were standing, or sitting, right in front of each other because you wanted to see his face and attempt to gauge whatever was going on in his mind right then.

“But, it did change,” Was his response after what felt like an hour’s worth of silence, and somehow it was hearing him say those four simple words that made you finally accept everything he had said in the past ten minutes. You finally found yourself believing him entirely. 

“At least, for me, it has,” He added, and there was something about the softness of the statement that managed to break you. A wave of tears hit you so abruptly that you didn’t even get a chance to process why it was happening before your vision became blurry. 

You sniffled and then sighed, haphazardly pushing away some of the stray tears that managed to slip out and attempting to swallow the apple-sized lump that now sat heavy in your throat. “Shit. I’m sorry. I don’t even know why I’m crying right now.”

“Can I come in?” 

Instead of verbally answering Steve’s question, you stood up and opened the door and he didn’t waste a second to pull you into his arms; he had seen you cry enough times to know exactly what to do at this moment. You wrapped your arms around him and buried your face in his chest, letting your tears soak his dark gray t-shirt, unable to hold them back anymore.

“It’s okay. I promise it’s okay,” He said softly as one of his hands lightly stroked your back. “Let’s just forget this ever happened; forget I said anything. I’ll get over all of it. We can just add this to the list of things to take to the grave, okay?” 

He took your crying as a rejection, your way of saying that you didn’t feel the same way without actually saying it to him. 

You didn’t see it that way, though. You honestly didn’t know how you felt— during this entire conversation, you hadn’t considered yourself. It just felt like second nature to immediately try and protect what you two had and not let it change in the slightest. 

When you pulled back and looked up at him, you didn’t really know what you were expecting to see, but he didn’t look sad or upset, he just looked concerned about you. 

You weren’t even entirely sure why you were crying at that moment. Everything that had happened in the past barely ten minutes just felt so overwhelming and confusing. 

You sniffled again and then found yourself nodding at Steve’s previous words. “Okay.” 

“Okay,” He gave you a small nod back. 

You glanced down at his t-shirt, quickly taking notice of the wet spot on it even in the near complete darkness you two were in. “Sorry about your shirt.”

He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter.” 

You hugged him again, pushing up on your toes and letting your arms circle around his neck. He didn’t hesitate to hug you back and that only made you hold him tighter.

“Can you stay in here, please?” You asked, voice quiet but Steve still heard you. 

You felt his nod in response and then moments later you and him were in your bed, not even bothering to get under the covers, and instead simply settling in a position that was completely familiar; your back against his chest, one of his arms wrapped around you and keeping you close, and heads against the pillow. You took hold of his hand and gave it a light squeeze, not completely knowing what you meant with the gesture. 

Neither of you said anything. Not for one minute, and then not for five according to the clock you took notice of on the nightstand.

There was a lot more that you knew the two of you needed to talk about. What just happened couldn’t be something that was forgotten and simply “taken to the grave.” It didn’t feel right to do that. 

However, you were falling asleep with your hand still intertwined with Steve’s before you could even try and think of something to say to him. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

When your eyes opened again, the first thing that you noticed was that it was still dark outside. You glanced at the nightstand, taking a look at the clock, and it surprised you to see that only two hours had passed; it felt like so much longer.  

You could feel Steve’s steady breathing behind you and that let you know that he was still sleeping. You shifted around to face him, surprisingly not waking him in the process. Your eyes were adjusted to the darkness that surrounded you both so you could see him pretty clearly; eyes shut and lips slightly parted and hair still a messy pile of bedhead.

For the first time probably ever you became so acutely aware of the close proximity between you two. You were only a few breaths away from each other, his arm was still around your waist, and your legs became a tangle of limbs. None of this had ever fazed you before, but it felt a little different now. 

But, it did change. 

It actually physically hurt realizing how right Steve was, and you had to close your eyes as you let the words swallow you whole for a second. 

There was still a part of you that wanted to not think about everything Steve had said— the I love you that meant so much more now— but it felt impossible to do that. It completely took over your thoughts; consumed them, really. 

You thought about how it was damn near effortless to picture something more with him; a something more that now felt so obvious, and in a way, so inevitable. You could see it all so easily.

You thought about past moments that had been shoved away for the sake of protecting your friendship. Late night drunk and high conversations shared between you and Steve that were always supposed to be long forgotten. Moments where the line between friendship and something more was playfully toed but never fully crossed, moments where you two would almost talk about actually crossing that line, moments where the smallest part of you would think about it.

Those moments, and the feelings that came along with them, were never supposed to be remembered when morning rolled around, but you always remembered them. And instead of doing anything about it or entertaining those thoughts in the slightest, you simply buried it all down and pushed it away. You placed all of those feelings in a box deep down inside of you that was never supposed to be opened. 

However, now with Steve’s burst of honesty, it was opened; and you honestly didn’t feel the urge to bury it and push it back down anymore. Instead, you let the feelings that would lead to completely uncharted territories between you and him wrap around you like a warm blanket and find a home in your heart. 

You opened your eyes again and let your gaze fall on Steve. You slowly pushed one of your hands through his hair, knowing that that would gradually stir him awake.

His eyes opened and he only blinked at you for a second before mumbling out a quiet, “Hi.” 

“Hi,” You said, matching his soft tone.

He gave you a curious look, and you knew that he was probably wondering why you woke him up. You simply stayed quiet for a moment, pulling your hand out of his hair and letting it find his cheek instead. 

“I love you too,” You whispered, not breaking his gaze. “I’m in love with you too.” 

Just for a second, there was a part of him that looked surprised hearing your words, but then he was smiling at you, the softest and sweetest smile that actually made your heart ache. 

Before he could say anything, you kept going. “And I’m sorry. I wish this could’ve been my reaction from the moment you said it first. I wish it would’ve hit me the second you said it. Books and movies make this thing look so much easier, but it’s actually really fucking hard.” 

“I know. That’s why it took me almost a month to tell you.” 

“I can’t believe I didn’t see it.”

“I’ve become a really good actor. Might make it my career now,” Steve joked and you laughed at that. 

He kept smiling at you and you smiled back. A comfortable silence took over as the two of you simply looked at each other, admiring one another in the darkness that you’d still be surrounded by for the next few hours. Your eyes flickered down to his lips for a brief moment and then met his gaze again. Out of all of the things that could’ve been said or done right then, it only felt right to close that last breath of distance between you two and finally do one of the few things that you had never done with one another. 

You let your nose brush against his for a brief second before you tilted your head upward a little and let your lips meet his. 

The kiss was chaste at first, Kindergarten-sweet, not much more than just a simple peck. But then Steve was quickly kissing you back, his hand squeezing your waist and pulling you impossibly closer to him, and your hand went from cupping his cheek to tangling within the hair at the nape of his neck. He deepened the kiss with a graze of his tongue against your bottom lip, which elicited the softest sound from you, and you were hit with the sudden thought that you never wanted this moment to end. You wanted to savor this first kiss, revel in it, pretend as if nothing else existed except for you and Steve and this moment that you wished you could drag out for minutes, hours, years.

In a way, it was a little confusing how even though this was completely new, it didn’t at all feel like it. Maybe there should’ve been at least a tiny bit of awkwardness laced within this moment, but the soft feel of Steve’s lips against yours felt familiar, like home, like it was something that should’ve happened a thousand years ago. It was so fucking right. 

You slowly pulled away when you needed to catch your breath and softly dropped your forehead against his, eyes still shut. “Shit. Fuck.”

Steve let out a breath of a laugh that fanned right against your cheek. “I agree.” 

You lifted your head and pressed a quick kiss against his nose before pulling back a bit, meeting his eyes, and giving him a small smile. “Hi.”

“Hi,” He said, smiling back and giving your waist a light squeeze. The warmth radiating from his touch made you wish that his hand was slipping past the hem of your t-shirt and actually touching your skin instead. 

A part of you wanted to let out a small happy laugh at how things had so easily shifted. You were finally kissing the guy that you’d known since you were ten and since an irreplaceable friendship was forged on that weeklong cruise trip. Steve was still your best friend, that didn’t feel like it had changed at all, but that didn’t mean that things weren’t different now; better, in so many unexpected ways. 

However, it also abruptly became a little scary— the thought of potentially losing everything you had with him if things ended badly.

That thought was why you had pushed all of your feelings away and never acknowledged them in the first place. There would always be that part of you that wanted to protect the friendship you two had. 

“Promise,” You held out your pinky for him to take. “Promise that whatever happens, if this doesn’t work out somehow, we will not make it weird or grow distant or leave each other. I can’t lose you in my life. I need you, no matter what.”

He didn’t hesitate to link his pinky with yours as he nodded. “Promise.” 

“And we should just keep all of this between us for now, maybe,” You said, the idea coming to you randomly but it made sense in your head; it felt like the logical thing to do. “Just in case.”

“Just in case?”

“Just in case we end up imploding immediately or something, I don’t know.”

You could tell that Steve couldn’t really see that happening— and in a way, neither could you— but at that moment he let himself agree with you, anyway. “Okay.”

Your lips found his again for a second before you shifted around and settled back in the position you two had fallen asleep in. Steve pulled you back against him, arm circling your waist, and you let out a sigh in contentment as he pressed the softest kiss against your neck.

A comforting silence began to linger and you broke it after a few minutes, hoping that Steve hadn't fallen asleep just yet.

“I’m really glad this is happening right now. Like, really, really glad. I love everything about this moment. And I love you. Like, a lot. And, yes, I know exactly how cheesy I sound right now."

His mouth brushed right against your ear and you could practically hear the smile in his voice as he spoke. “Yes, that was very cheesy. I loved it. And I love you too.”

You only grabbed his hand and pressed a soft kiss against it in response. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Okay, dingus, I know that you’re probably gonna hate me for saying this,” Robin started as she set her mug back on the table of the booth the four of you had been sitting in for the past twenty minutes. The cup looked way too close to the edge of the table, so you reached out and moved it over a bit. “But, I really need you to get a picture of you and your smiley face pancake.” 

Eddie immediately laughed and nodded. “That’s a great idea.”

You turned and looked at Steve, smiling at him. “Please do it. It would be such a missed opportunity if that didn’t happen right now.”

He only rolled his eyes. “I hate all of you for telling the waitress that it’s my birthday.” 

The moment you mentioned it to Carol after she asked the reason why you all were in Denver for the weekend, she smiled and said a “Happy Birthday” to Steve before taking your orders. And then when everything came out, she also handed him a pancake that had a whipped cream smiley face, two cherries for the eyes, and a candle in the middle as the nose. 

Robin pulled the Polaroid camera out of her bag and pointed it at Steve. “Okay, hold up the plate and smile, birthday boy. God, I wish we had party hats right now.” 

“I’m glad we don’t,” He said with another eye roll but still proceeded to hold up the plate and give her a quick annoyed smile. 

When he put the plate back down, you stole one of the cherry eyes and then started on your waffle. The conversation shifted away from Steve and his adorable birthday pancake and went to talking about hitting the slopes in the afternoon. You had been in the middle of mentioning that the drive would only take about thirty minutes when you felt Steve’s hand find yours underneath the table and link it with his. The booth was small and you were already sitting shoulder to shoulder, so the action went completely unnoticed by your friends sitting across from you. 

You and Steve had held hands countless times before, but it felt so much more significant in this moment because now the meaning behind it was so different— this was no longer just a friendly handhold. It was hard to fight how much you wanted to immediately smile at the subtle action, but you kept your face straight and managed to finish out your thought. 

You fought the sudden urge you had to lean your head against his shoulder or kiss his cheek, and instead grabbed your mug with your free hand and took a sip of your coffee. You tried your hardest to pay attention to the conversation taking place at the table— Robin talking about how she was nervous about skiing for the first time, and Eddie saying that yes she probably would be bad at it. However, all you could really focus on was Steve; his hand intertwined with yours and the warmth radiating from the subtle touch. 

You felt equivalent to a lovesick teenager with a crush that actually wasn’t a crush at all because that word wasn’t enough to fully describe how you felt about him. It would be hard keeping this a secret for the time being, and the smallest part of you questioned why you even proposed that idea. But, for the most part, you still agreed with your “just in case” reasoning. If exploring this uncharted territory with Steve somehow ended up becoming the worst idea ever, it would be good that you didn’t tell anyone about it because you two could go back to being just friends without anyone else in the group knowing what happened. 

You hated thinking like that— that it all would or could end, that one or both of you would come to realize that this actually wasn’t a good idea. But, it felt too hard not to think about it for at least a split second. 

Steve gave your hand a light squeeze, it felt both comforting and questioning; maybe he could tell you were getting so deep into your head about something.  

“Feel free to steal the other cherry,” He told you. Your eyes met his and he gave you a look that said everything he really wanted to tell you at that moment but couldn’t, and you let your nonsensical worries wash away for the time being with that reassuring look. 

You placed your coffee mug down and then grabbed the second cherry from his plate, smiling at him as you did so. “Thanks.” 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

(requests are open for stuff you wanna see in the universe/series!🫶🏾)

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet-Cute - Kid's Story - 9

Source for pic

Imperfect 9

Word Count: 5836

Tags and Summary can be found here.

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Notes: I'm sorry, everyone, this might not be the chapter you all deserve, but it's the chapter I managed to get out. Life kicked my butt a little bit these last few days. I aimed for this chapter to have a little bit more plot, but it was already getting too big. Still, plenty of setup for exciting things to happen next chapter. I hope you're still with me and enjoying this! Love you all.

Here's a Spotify Playlist I created for this story if you want to check it out!

Masterlist

“I can’t believe it, Kid, you really remade this engine from a bunch of scrapped junkyard parts?” You’re leaning on the tips of your toes, admiring the new farm tractor engine Kid is setting up. 

Well, ‘new’ is an euphemism. Kid was just telling you how buying a new engine was about as expensive as a new tractor, since your dad’s tractor is over fifteen years old. So, he came up with a cheaper solution. 

“Sure did, Sparkles.” Kid tightens another bolt and cranes his neck your way, one eyebrow shooting up in disbelief. “I’m actually offended ye doubt me!”

A giggle escapes your lips as you raise your hands in mock defense. “Don’t be! You just keep surprising me, that’s all…” Your voice softens as you lock eyes with him for what feels like the hundredth time today. 

A loud harumph breaks the spell and Kid gets back to his screws while you turn on your heel to scowl at your father. Shanks decided he had ‘stuff to do’ in the barn while you helped Kid fix the tractor, which was code for: “I don’t want you alone with Kid if I can help it.” And there’s nothing you can do about it. 

“I found parts in three different scrap yards, cleaned ’em up, rebuilt what mattered, ditched the rest… bam! New fuckin’ engine for half the price, more power too. Yer welcome.” Kid wipes the sweat off his forehead and leaves a small streak of grease across it, making you giggle again.

“What?” he growls, looking back at you. 

“Got a little something there, hang on.” Stepping closer, you remove the rag from his back pocket and scrub the grease mark. His hand instinctively grips your waist, and you bite your lower lip, holding back a gasp.

“Ah-ahem!” Shanks clears his throat again, and you exhale sharply, handing the rag back to Kid and stepping away from him while he chuckles and gets back to work. You death-glare the back of your dad’s head, since he doesn’t even deign to give you a side glance, pretending to fuss over the bedding of the horses’ stalls. 

“Cockblock…” Kid whispers beneath his breath, and you turn your loud chortle into a fake cough. 

After that, Kid keeps explaining what he’s doing and asking you to pass him some tools. You said you wanted to learn and to help, and he’s teaching you. 

“So, um…” Kid sighs after a while, hands deep in the bowels of the tractor, eyes fidgeting without looking your way. He’s not whispering, but he’s speaking softly. “I got Victoria registered for a Car Show… It’s in a few days and, um…”

Shanks stops what he’s doing, and Kid gets visibly more flustered, but you wait to hear what he has to say before reacting, even though you can already guess where this is going. He stops and looks at you before continuing. 

“Well, I was thinkin’, since ye helped set her up, maybe ye wanna come with?” You stare at him, lips parted, eyes wide, and silent. He takes your silence for a denial and starts to shake his head, already turning back towards the engine. “Ye ain’t gotta come. I just thought, ye know—”

“Yes! Obviously I want to go!” Kid lets out a huff of breath but quickly turns his expression into an unbothered one. “When are we going?”

He continues tweaking the tractor’s engine, but his movements are lighter. “It’s a weekend thing. Whole day Saturday and Sunday till late afternoon. We’ll have to spend the night—”

A horseshoe clatters against the floor, and one of the horses neighs while Shanks curses loudly, losing his balance and banging his head against the side of the stall. 

“Are you okay, Dad?” You’re already turning around to see if he’s fine, but he’s quick to answer.

“Fine! I’m fine!” His growl seems far from fine, but you leave him alone and turn back to Kid so you can finish the conversation. 

“I’m game!” you agree, ignoring another colorful expletive leaving your father’s lips. “I guess we should work really hard on Victoria until then, right?”

Kid nods, never meeting your gaze, even though there’s a stubborn smile on his lips, he’s trying to contain it. “Aye. Just the finishin’ touches.”

“Get ready, Kid. I’m not the easiest person to deal with in a road trip!” you say, squealing with excitement, and ignoring Kid’s mock pained grunt. You do not miss, however, the way your heart swells at Kid's invitation to tag along on such an important event. 

-*-

“Spit it out, Dad,” you say, your fork clattering obnoxiously against the plate as you set it down. Shanks has had ‘the look’ ever since Kid left. He keeps side-eyeing you like he has something to say but he’s trying his damn hardest not to.

“It’s… It’s nothing,” he mumbles, not lifting his gaze from his half-eaten baked potato. 

With a groan, you push your plate to the side. He’s going to make it difficult. 

“Dad, just say it. We can talk like adults. I don’t want you to keep your opinions and thoughts to yourself.” You know what this is about: Kid, obviously. Shanks hasn’t uttered another word about your burgeoning friendship with the redhead since you two fought the other time, but you can tell that the way you’re close to Kid bothers him.

Much more than he’s willing to admit.

“I know,” he admits with a shrug. Sipping your water slowly, you give him more time while he chews both on his thoughts and his food. “So you’re going to that car show with Kid, then? It’s settled?”

You nod. “Yeah, it sounds fun. I helped Kid with his car, even though I barely did anything, and I want to go. Unless… do you need me that weekend?”

Shanks’ eyes light up, and you know it’s because if he says ‘yes,’ it’s his chance to make you stay without being a smothering father. 

“No,” he sighs defeated. “I don’t need you, Bug.”

You let out a small, relieved huff of breath and get up to fill your glass of water before returning to your seat, giving Shanks time to gather the rest of his thoughts. 

“Be careful.” Well, that’s… vague.

“Sure. I’ll make sure Kid drives slowly.” As if. He’ll want to test Victoria’s limits, and you’re not going to be the one to stop him, especially because you’re also curious. 

“Not that,” Shanks pushes the plate to the side and sighs your name, his hand tousling his hair nervously. “I know I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it as often as it takes: Kid is dangerous.” Shanks lifts one finger to stop you from intervening. “Don’t give that look, I know him.”

“So do I!” you interrupt anyway.

“Sure, you know what he shows you. But when he’s pressured or cornered, he lashes out, and that’s when he sees red, baby, that’s when he’s volatile and you—”

“I’m not afraid of him, and you’re not going to make me fear him, Dad.” Kid already felt cornered and pressured when next to you. He lashed out, sure, but you handled it just fine!

“I’m not trying to make you fear him,” Shanks pleads, slamming his palm on the table. “I just want you to be careful, stay sharp, pay attention!”

“He’s not a ticking time bomb!” you say.

“He’s an angry man!” he counters.

“Sure!” you groan in disbelief. “But being angry is a far cry from being dangerous. Yes, he’s loud, yes, he’s irascible, but that shouldn’t be what defines him when there’s so much more underneath.” You let out another huff. “Besides, he’s not angry at me. Kid’s angry at himself.”

Shanks raises in his chair, his hand supporting his weight on the table so he can look at you. “And that is the problem, babygirl, because when you’re constantly angry at yourself, the ones who suffer are the ones who care the most.” 

Your breath hitches as you lock eyes with Shanks, and his eyes soften. He squeezes your hand gently, a soft smile that doesn’t reach his eyes gracing his lips. “And I know you care. So I’m so scared you’re going to suffer.”

He’s not wrong. Kid is constantly angry at himself, whether he shows it or not; there’s an underlying grudge he can’t seem to shake. 

“I’m a fuckin’ monster.” His words still echo inside your head, still holding your heart ransom to the pain he was feeling. 

Kid’s angry. Kid’s suffering. And Shanks is right. He will make you suffer too, but not in the way your father fears. 

You suffer because he’s in pain. Not because he causes you pain.

-*-

“She’s shining! She looks so good, Kid.” You pace around Victoria, taking in how the bright red, closely resembling her owner’s hair, stands out in the dimly lit garage. Kid’s been working nonstop to get her show-ready, and it’s paid off. “Are we going to ride her to the show?”

Kid takes out two beers from the fridge, but doesn’t put back the one you decline, instead setting it down on the workbench to drink once he’s done with the first. He leans back against the counter and tilts his head at Victoria, making sure everything is perfect. 

“Damn right we are. I’ll get her fuckin’ sparklin’ again once we arrive.” He smirks and takes a long sip of his beer. “She ain’t no helpless virgin to be carried around in a tow. She holds her own.”

With a soft chuckle, you lean on the workbench next to Kid, purposefully brushing your leg against his. His arm stops midway before raising up for another sip of beer, but the silence stretches for a while before you decide to break it. 

“Why haven’t you kissed me again?” It’s a question that’s been lodged in your throat since that day. You helped Kid in a terribly vulnerable moment, and he let you. You thought, once again, that you had made progress, that walls had been torn down and breached. But he hasn’t kissed you or mentioned what happened between you since. 

Kid sets down his beer and exhales a long breath, his hand reaching up to press over the lower half of his face. 

“It ain’t so simple…” Still avoiding your eye contact, Kid pulls up a stool from under the workbench and sits down, as if pressured by a heavy weight and standing up seems unbearable. 

“It isn’t?” you ask in disbelief. 

“Aye…” Kid risks a small glance at you and breaks it the next second. “I told ye before. I don’t know how to do this.” He gestures to the space between you. “I claim girls and I dump ‘em. That’s what I do.”

Right. He has said so before. Where’s he going with this, and why is your heart pounding like it wants to escape your chest? Does it always have to be one step forward and two steps back with Kid?

“What do you mean, Kid? Is that what you’re going to do to me or—”

“No.” Kid wraps his hand around your waist and pulls you to him, dragging you to the middle of his open legs. You eye him with suspicion, never quite knowing what to expect from him. Then his fingers dig into your waist, and he forces eye contact. “That’s exactly what I don’t want to do to ye.”

Oh.

“I’m wired to do that. Kill says it’s a defense mechanism, but what the fuck does he know, he ain’t a shrink,” Kid grumbles. “So I’m—”

He minces his words with grunts and sighs, and you know what he can’t say. He’s scared. About everything. The heat of his body spreads to your palms as you place them over his chest, waiting for him to go on. 

“I can’t take that risk. I can’t take it further. Yet.”

You take another step forward, and you’re nearly flush together. Kid’s hands drop to your hips.

“We don’t have to take it further,” you admit. Then a sly grin curves the corner of your mouth upwards. “But I do like your kisses…”

Kid leans down, his mouth hovering over yours.

“Aye, me too. But the problem is I like ‘em too fuckin’ much.” You let out a small giggle at that, hands climbing to his neck as you twirl strands of his hair. “When I’m kissin’ ya, I don’t want to fuckin’ stop.”

Your lips brush but never quite touch. He leans his head to one side, and then the other, just small feathery brushes that tease you more than if he were actually kissing you. 

“This is torture,” you whisper, anticipation climbing to impossible heights while his fingers dig deeper into your flesh. You press on his neck, pulling him towards you, but he’s not budging. He keeps leaning away from your search for a deeper touch. “God!” you breathe out the expletive in exasperation. 

Kid’s smug chuckle warms your lips, and you nearly let out a whine. “Not my name, sweetheart, but I don’t mind the upgrade.”

You start to chuckle lightheartedly at his smugness, but that’s when he shortens the distance between you and your mouths collide. It starts slow; hands behaving nicely, barely touching or gripping, lips only pressing, tongues still. 

And then you whimper softly, so softly it resembles more a sigh than a moan. Yet, it’s all it takes.

Kid makes a deep, throaty noise and wraps both arms around your back, pulling you flush against him, his fingers climbing possessively to your nape. He grips your hair and tilts your head back to deepen the kiss. 

No longer do tongues stand still; instead, they eagerly explore. Kid pushes more, and teeth collide before he nips your lower lip and sucks it into his mouth. His hand lowers and finds the hem of your shirt, already slipping inside to touch the feverish skin of your back. 

A proper moan leaves your lips, and Kid breaks the kiss abruptly.

He doesn’t push you away, though. With your foreheads pressed together, he removes his hands from your skin as you both regain your breath.

“See what I mean? Can’t fuckin’ stop. Ye do this to me.”

Why do his words stir something so real inside you? It’s like everything he says provokes a visceral reaction in you; be it rage, desire, or this weird feeling you can’t quite explain.

“But you did stop. Does that mean we can try it again?”

“Temptress,” he teases, and you stick out your tongue at him. 

“Fineee,” you let out, trying to wiggle out of his embrace. “I’ll behave.” He eases his grip, and you take a step back, though you’re still between his legs. “Guess you can delete that awesome schedule you prepared for us the other day…”

Ass demolition… being folded like a pretzel… You sigh. 

“Ain’t doing that,” he rasps as his hands find their way back to your waist. 

“What?”

“I’ve postponed it. To a month from now.”

You raise your brow, bringing your index finger to your lips in a pensive expression. “One month? You expect me to keep my hands off you for that long?”

Kid grunts, his hands squeeze, and you don’t miss the way his eyes fixate on your curving lips. “Rules and schedules are meant to be broken, Sparkles. I ain’t the man to follow rules, ye should know that already. Still…”

You smile softly, knowing where he’s going with this. He wants to take things slow, he doesn’t want to mess this up. He’s being different for you. Having a sort of deadline; an objective, makes it real and easier to abide by.

“All right. Let’s behave, then.” You push away from him and point at Victoria. “There’s another lady that needs your attention right now, and I don’t mind sharing with her.”

Kid grins, passing by you and squeezing your ass, eliciting a small yelp from your lips, before heading towards Victoria. 

“Well, yer a better person than me, then, because I wouldn’t share ye with nothin’. Not even a car.”

-*-

“So, are you guys officially dating?” Killer tilts his head to the side, arms crossed over his chest, as Kid exits Victoria and walks over to open the trunk. He drove the car outside of the garage, and he’s waiting for you to arrive before heading off. 

“No.”

“But you said you kissed again,” Killer deadpans.

“Right.”

“And you’re not doing your ‘just for fun’ bit?” Killer keeps pressing. Kid throws a duffel bag and a toolbox inside the trunk and goes back into the garage to get his set of cleaning products to pack it too. 

“No.”

“Well, you’re really talkative today. I’m so happy we shared this insightful conversation, Kid.” 

“Aye, me too.”

If looks could kill, Kid would be dropping dead at any second now. 

He sighs, places the cleaning products inside the trunk before closing it and leaning on it. He looks over at Killer without searching for his eyes. “It’s… we… it’s a situationship, I guess.”

“The fuck is that?” Killer asks, genuinely curious.

“Fuck if I know!” Kid growls. “We ain’t dating, but we ain’t NOT dating. Got it?”

“No.”

“Fuck off! We’re somethin’. That’s it.”

Killer’s about to retort when your car pulls up and you park it in the shade. “Good morning!” you greet them, stepping out of the car and reaching into the backseat for your duffel bag. It’s an overnight stay, you don’t need much stuff. 

“Hey,” Killer waves, going into the garage for a moment. 

Kid walks over to you and grabs the bag so he can store it in the trunk. “Mornin’, Sparkles.” You show him that sweet smile that could start wars, and he fights back the urge to press his lips against yours. 

If you were anyone else, any other girl, he would’ve already done a million things to you. Surprisingly, manhandling and folding you like a pretzel are actually very tame activities for what he usually goes for. And then he would’ve dumped you without looking back or thinking twice about it. 

But you’re not just any other girl. Despite what he said the other day, you are special, and he’s not about to ruin that. Girls have taken one look at him and decided they could fix him. More times than he can count, actually. He just has this unreachable, broken aura about him that gets some girls going. 

You said you didn’t want to fix him. You said you wanted all of his broken pieces. 

And fuck it. He was not expecting that. To be accepted exactly as he is. 

So he needs to be a little bit better; he needs to try and be good, even though he doesn’t know how to do it. He’s willing to try. 

He’s about to turn to Victoria to place your bag in the trunk when you reach up, holding his face with one hand and standing on the tips of your toes just so you can land a kiss on his cheek. 

And he just stands there, like an idiot, holding your bag and staring at you.

That’s when they start to snicker. He can’t see them, but he feels them. They’re always there.

‘Coward.’

‘Undeserving.’

‘Stay miserable for the rest of your life.’

They’re ruthless. But they’re right.

He doesn’t deserve you. He doesn’t deserve happiness.

Why does he even allow himself to think of a possible future with you? Sure, you’re special and different, but he’s not. He’s the same selfish, cowardly motherfucker who can’t do anything right with his life. 

He can’t drag you down with him. He refuses. 

But fuck it all to hell. He’s selfish enough to want to try, even if it hurts both of you.

Killer returns with a paper bag in his hand, and Kid immediately turns to place your bag inside the trunk, dismissing his thoughts instead of letting them cloud the time he’s about to spend with you. 

“What’s that?” you ask Killer, hopping over to his side to try to take a peek.

He gently swats your hand away and hands the bag over to Kid. “It’s breakfast. Sun’s barely up, and it’s gonna take you close to three hours to get there. You need something to eat.” The lilt in his voice tells you he’s smiling, and you thank him. Then he leans down as if he’s sharing a secret and whispers, “Good luck putting up with Kid, by the way.”

You snicker loudly, and Kid grumbles. Whenever you and Killer get together, Kid always ends up being the butt of the joke. And damn it if he doesn’t like that. Not that he would ever admit it to you two. 

“What is it?” You try to pry the bag away from Kid, but he just holds it high above your head, and you don’t even try to reach for it. Instead, you frown at him, hands on your hips.

“Sandwiches,” Killer answers. 

“No eatin’ in the car! We’ll stop soon enough to eat ‘em.” Kid places the bag on the floor of the backseat, away from your reach. “Let’s go, Sparkles.”

“Fine,” you grumble, nose crinkling in an adorable way. “But I get angry when I’m hungry.” Then you turn to Killer and wave. “Thanks, Kill. See you soon.”

Killer waves and tilts his chin up to Kid. “Hear that, Kid? She gets hangry. Make sure to feed your Gremlin soon.”

You snort on the way to the car, and Kid shakes his head at his friend, slapping him on the back. “Thanks for watching the shop, asswipe.”

Killer slaps his back, too. “Drive safely, dickhead.”

“I don’t understand this type of bromance…” you mutter before settling into your seat. 

-*-

When Kid slows down and parks Victoria on the side of the road, under the shade of a tree, you stretch your arms over your head. You’ve only been riding for forty minutes, but you tested his patience for over half an hour, saying the sandwiches smelled delicious, that you were getting pretty hungry, and that you should stop to eat. 

He got tired of listening to you whine and pulled over.

“She’s amazing,” you admit with a light tap on the dash. “You outdid yourself, Kid. Everyone’s gonna love her at the show.”

Kid grumbles, grabs the paper bag, and exits the car. You follow him as you both lean on the hood of Victoria, staring at the road stretching ahead of you; just worn-out asphalt, barely any curves. You’re in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by dirt and trees, birds, and lush greenery. It’s peaceful. 

“What’s wrong?” you try, not knowing if he’s in the mood to answer you or to be a puzzle.

“Nothin’.” Kid lets out a grunt and hands you your sandwich. 

“She’ll do just fine, Kid,” you take a guess. He fussed so much about Victoria being just right for the judges when he was prepping her that you’re pretty sure your educated guess is accurate. 

“Aye, I know. I built her.” The defensiveness in his answer shows that you were right on the money. 

“Maybe that’s why you’re so nervous. Because although they’ll be judging Victoria, you’re the one under scrutiny.”

His head snaps to the side, and he widens his eyes at you, not believing how you can already read him so well. Right on the money, indeed. 

“Whatever,” he grumbles and turns away from you. 

You unfold the foil covering the sandwich while Kid processes your words. You know he won’t talk about his real feelings, but you do know he’s listening to what you have to say to him. “She’s perfect. You did an amazing job. Everyone will love her so much, you’re going to get jealous.”

This pulls a smirk from the corner of his lips as he mimics your actions to get the wrapper off the sandwich. 

“Aye. I can handle her bein’ ogled. As long as nobody gets too fuckin’ touchy.”

You stifle a snort. “Nobody but you can touch your gall, right? Possessive much?”

He finally grins, giving you a side-eye. “Fuck yeah, I am. Ain’t nobody touchin’ what’s mine. Besides, nobody knows her like I do.” His hand drops to the hood of the car in the space between your legs, and he pats it affectionately. Then his fingers brush against the side of your thigh, and he gazes back at you. “I know every curve of her body, every little purr, everything she likes… Nobody can take care of her like I can.”

Your breath hitches as you hold his gaze. Is he still talking about Victoria?

“Good to know,” you murmur, getting back to your sandwich. “Maybe she doesn’t even want anybody else’s touch. Maybe all she craves is yours…”

You feel the heat of his hand leave your thigh even before you see it, but there’s no time to miss it when he places his fingers beneath your chin, tilting your face up so you can stare at him. 

You hold your breath again as Kid swipes his thumb across your lower lip, slowly, deliberately. “Keep sayin’ stuff like that and ye’ll be taken care of better than her.” Parting your lips, you draw a breath, ready to answer him, but he removes his hand and pats the half-unwrapped sandwich on your lap. “Eat, Sparkles. If ye eat that cold ‘cause I was busy flirtin’ with ye, Killer will murder us in our sleep.”

You huff a soft chuckle and nod, unwrapping the food and taking a greedy bite out of it. “Hmm! Damn!” You take another bite, not even bothering to swallow the first, and hum in delight again. “This is so good!” you say between bites, “Stupid good!” 

Kid snorts and takes his own bite. “Aye. Killer’s a damn good chef. Learned in the army. Used to cook us the best food ye could get in the middle of the goddamned desert.”

You nearly stop chewing. Kid never talks about their army days. You just nod, absorbing the information like a greedy little sponge. You don’t press, don’t push for more. You’ll take whatever he gives you. 

But it’s clear he’s not going to share any more for now, and that’s fine. It’s enough. Whatever he gives you, it’s enough.

“Remind me to thank him later, then.”

Kid hums in agreement, and you finish your sandwiches not long after. The silence is more comfortable than awkward at this point. 

You’re wiping your hands on your jeans when Kid throws something at you. You stumble with it, juggling the object in your hands before steadying it. With a confused gaze aimed at Kid, you raise your hand and inspect it. It’s a keychain: a guitar, a miniature Harley, and Victoria’s keys dangle from it. 

He wipes his hands on his pants, opens the passenger seat door, and sits in your place, adjusting it back so he can fit his legs. 

“Well? What are ye waitin’ for? She ain’t gonna drive herself.”

After all that talk about ’nobody touches Victoria but me,’ he just hands you the keys? Is he seriously trusting you to drive her?

“Are you serious, Kid?”

“Sweetheart, ye’ve been messin’ with her guts for weeks. She knows ye, she trusts ye. Get yer fine ass inside and let’s go. Don’t wanna be late to show her off to rich bastards.”

Well, since he’s put it that way! 

You grin, getting comfortable in his seat. Then you adjust the seat and the mirrors and take three deep breaths just before starting her up. 

“Ye ain’t givin’ birth, Sparkles. Just be careful with the clutch and let’s go.”

“Hey, I got it!” you grumble defensively. Kid snorts, opening the window and leaning his elbow. 

“I’ve seen ye drive. I’ve fixed yer car.” Kid stares back at you, an infuriating smirk painting his lips. “Watch the clutch and let’s go.” You mumble something unintelligible, mostly cursed words aimed at him, and he snickers. 

Victoria eases back into the road like she owns it, and for a vintage car, the ride is smooth as velvet. You feel happy. Kid looks happy. And the road trip extends for a few more hours that pass in a beat.

You trade places with Kid along the way again because he can’t act like a passenger princess and spends the entirety of your drive giving you pointers and being a backseat driver: ’careful with that sharp turn; that truck’s gonna hit the brakes, give him space; easy on the clutch; you can’t stand to hear him anymore, so you relinquish your seat.

Eventually, time rolls by as lazily as the road, and you reach your destination. There are still cars parking up, and one of the staff comes up to Kid to tell him where to park and that he needs to have his car ready in an hour before the judges and guests start coming in. 

The car show is being held outdoors, sprawled across a large park. The large trees cast a much-needed shade all around, and their leaves rustle softly with the vernal breeze. Kid parks Victoria in her designated spot, and you step out, stretching your arms and taking a big breath.

It smells like fresh grass, wildflowers, and, unavoidably, gasoline. 

Your eyes roam through the paved lot, taking in the car lineup in awe. There are a lot of classic cars, some well-cherished, others pristine new, like they’re never touched except for exhibits, which is probably the case. 

They’re impressive. 

But none of them is Victoria. You may be biased, but seeing her shine, burning as hot as fire amid boring classics that shine without flair, just cements this fact. She’s a beast of her own, and she’s going to claw her way to the top.

Kid groans as he too looks around. You close your door and stop beside him, placing one hand on his bicep and squeezing. “You got this, Kid. You got the best gal, don’t doubt it!”

Then you turn to open the trunk so you can take out the cleaning gear and get her show-ready. Kid grins, a very cocky grin. “Aye, I fuckin’ do have the best gal.” And when he winks at you, you’re left thinking once more if he’s talking about you or Victoria.

-*-

“I’m so exhausted!” you hide a yawn behind your hand as you walk to the motel conveniently located in front of the park. 

The first day went on in a blur of thrill and novelty. Beyond the first stressful hour when you and Kid worked hard to get Victoria gleaming and shining, everything worked out perfectly. The judges made their initial pass through the show, taking in their first impressions of the displayed cars. Their eyes lingered on Victoria with interest, and you swore Kid was proud when they nodded approvingly. 

Then came the side contests: loudest exhaust, best paint job, craziest modification. Victoria wasn’t registered for any of those competitions, but watching the crowd go wild was pretty fun. Even Kid seemed amused, grinning and smirking far more than his usual scowls. 

You had a quick lunch with some food from the food stalls, washed it down with ghastly locally brewed beer, which made you gag and almost lose your lunch. Kid called you a lightweight and suggested that you should stick with water instead of drinks made for men. He regretted that comment instantly when you started to discuss gender equality with him in a loud, passionate discourse until he was begging you to stop.

When the audience started to pour in after lunch, Kid tensed up because they were, in his words, ‘touchy, meddlesome, uneducated, and annoying.’ Though he might’ve phrased it a little less eloquently and with many more curse words in between. 

When he almost lost it, grumbling at a kid because he was about to touch Victoria with his ice-cream-covered hands, you took over talking to the public, and he only spoke to answer technical questions. You told him he did a very good job at being a grumpy Wikipedia page, if Wikipedia pages were R-rated. 

When the sun set, after your dinner consisted of a repeat of lunch minus the awful beers, the show closed for the night. Some participants decided to hit the town bars and keep the party going, but you were feeling exhausted. Kid said he wouldn’t be caught dead socializing with other people, and you knew he just didn’t want to leave you alone, because you’d never seen him say no to a few drinks. 

Now, Kid opens the door to the motel’s reception, and the obnoxious bell on the door dings to get the receptionist’s attention. Kid drops the two duffel bags on the floor and leans on the counter. 

“Hey, I had a reservation under Eustass Kid. It was a single, but now I gotta get one with two beds.” He told you during the show that he still didn’t know you were coming when he made the reservation for himself. 

The girl behind the counter chews her gum and clicks her mouse without looking at either of you, clearly bored out of her mind to be working the night shift. 

“We’re out of doubles, but we have rooms with king-size beds.”

Kid grunts a curse between his teeth. “Another single, then.”

“Oh, no need!” you chime in, stepping forward and shoving yourself between Kid and the counter. “The one with the king-size bed works just fine.”

The girl starts to click the mouse again, and Kid scowls at you, which only makes you grin. 

“Don’t worry, Kid, I’ll only bite if you want me to.”

The receptionist snaps her head up for the first time since you entered and gives you both a knowing smile. Kid tries to act annoyed at you, but the smirk and glint in his eyes tell you he’s looking forward to this as much as you are. 

“Careful not to swallow yer words, Sparkles.”

You reach for the card that the now-amused receptionist hands you, and Kid grabs the duffels. “Big words for someone who wanted two singles just a minute ago.”

He huffs a laugh and leads you outside with his hand on your lower back, barely touching but scorching you like a live flame. 

“Keep talkin’ and see where that attitude gets ye.”

Under you or over you would be great, thank you very much. These are the words you want to say, but you can’t. Because you’re both taking things slow. Torturously slow. 

“A girl can only hope…” you snicker at him, and he lets out one of those throaty sounds that send a shiver coursing through your spine but doesn’t say anything else. 

You can barely keep it together in shared spaces, as poor Killer can attest. How the heck are you going to last a full night sleeping next to this man?

Fuck.

Tags: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @ren-ni @jqperi @elysian-asphodel @daydreamer-in-training @iloveyoushanks @thegalaxysedge22 @kyllium @keiva1000 @chibinasuu @my-name-is-heartache @laidenbreecatchall @moldychefboyardeecan @dazzlingstarlight23 @bearg-bia @babyboofangirl @praline357 @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth @traffys-heart @cherileecore @violetmatcha @theloserqueen @mapachito @shamblespirate @ibuch7

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|Chapter 10🔞|

[cloudcountry]

Ok it says requests closed but I was gonna ask: what about Ritsu is so compelling to you? I find him rather bland and want to hear what about him makes you feel safe and loved? Why is he your favorite? INFODUMP me write all your interest I am listening with excitement :3

oh youre so good, this doesnt count as a request at all!! i actually needed a few days to gather my thoughts and make this semi-coherent. i also consulted my six pages of notes about this guy. yes im normal about him. yes.

RITSU SHINJO. there are a lot of things to love methinks. he can definitely come across as someone who is rude or stuck up, and dont get me wrong i totally did NOT fuck w his ass when i first met him. but he changed my mind really quickly.

i really appreciate how he stands up for what he believes in. like his ambitious nature is what really endeared me to him at first. he stares down barrels of guns and is like "okay, but youre going to listen to what i have to say" and honestly??? i was in awe. hes such a brave person and even if it may seem a lil stupid or outrageous sometimes it always works out in the end somehow.

hes also really smart??? like OBVI but like hold on. there are 264 ARTICLES in the japanese penal code. TWO HUNDRED SIXTY FOUR. and he STILL knows more laws on TOP of that. has them MEMORIZED no less!! hes well versed in the arts and his vocabulary is extensive as well. he can speak MULTIPLE LANGUAGES, including german, french, and italian. literally WHAT THE FUCK. hes so impressive??? this is some rich people shit T0T

his lil quirks are super cute too, like how he only drinks black coffee and has six handkerchiefs so his opponents dont see him sweat, or how he spends time watching opera to unwind after the day's events. his handwriting isnt the neatest and he gets SO butthurt about it. hes so unflappable usually but when insulted? its like we get to see the actual ritsu. its silly bc if you compliment him on his SKILLS hes like "oh its natural, ofc i did xyz" but i want to see how he reacts to being told he looks good. or someone noticing if he did something different w his hair, or wore different accessories, or got a new pen. just . someone noticing the little things about HIM, too.

HE FUCKIN SUCKS AT GAMBLING I LOVE HIMMMM also memorized card game rules after learning he'd be sorted into sinostra. he has so much book smartness but when you put him in front of people he fumbles HARD. like its so cute but also i worry about that bc he needs friends and i want him to make friends but i fear he doesnt think he needs them. what he lacks socially he makes up for in random ass trivia that no one needs to know ever.

hes so PREPARED. this is one of the main things that makes me feel so safe around him actually because hes thought of everything. and yk he doesnt even think its that big of a deal. he exchanges the currency so sinostra can have an inn to stay in for the night, he records everything for jabberwock to make sure he understands exactly what he needs to do for the animals, he covers all of his bases and takes notes about everyones behavior just in case in comes in handy.

uses his stigma for fuckass shit like busting down doors and not getting hurt by a rickety bus ride. uses his book to whack people over the head. regularly goes to the mystery diner and ignores ren's complaints about how he sits his ass down foreverrrr. romeo calls him a greenhorn and he blabs about how he obviously isn't. taiga calls him a dumbass and he starts screeching like a baby bird. hes always trying to reign in taiga while also encouraging his bullshit. has obvious favoritism for mc. protects her whenever he can and worries over her safety when she almost fuckin DIES. acknowledges that shes weaker than him, because hes a ghoul and thats just how it is, and actively takes steps to NOT ONLY PROTECT HER HIMSELF, but build up her confidence TOO.

literally i am convinced the way ritsu sees love is making the people you love the absolute best version of themselves, because thats what his parents did for him. so he tries to teach you what he knows, he RELIES on you to keep tabs on romeo or taiga (that is HUGE actually, considering he berates ren for his attitude and doesnt really seem to be close enoough with the other ghouls to rely on them for anything.)

let me say that again, ritsu views mc as an equal because hes placing the captain/vice captain in her hands and telling her to keep an eye on them, he calls HER when he's trying to meet up with everyone, he's actively treating her like a business partner where they will BOTH BENEFIT in more ways than just the curse lifting and winning the laurel crown--

ARGHHHH I LVOE RITSU SHINJO SO MUCH. you are a trooper if u read all of this can i just say .

THANK YOU FOR ASKING I LOVEEEE TALKING ABOUT HIM <3333

[aenor-llelo]

amitoufo he is carbondated

It's the Year of the Snake. Destiny 2's Heresy just came out. But this ain't about her. I sit on your shoulder, I am your xiaoren.

I'm Taiwanese! Let's carbon date The Drifter!

Lightbearers retain their semantic memory (facts, concepts, ideas) and procedural memory (memory of how to do things) of their original life before death. This is implied from game/lore instances of Guardians with unique accents, ethnic coding, memory of languages that are obscure post-Collapse, even cases of Guardians retaining pre-rez war PTSD. It is outright confirmed by Sen-Aret, a Guardian who- due to the sheer age of her remains or some error by her Ghost- was raised with only the knowledge she had in life, and had to learn about modern weapons/language from other Guardians.

Why does this mean anything? It means that the way a Guardian prefers to dress, talk, and generally behave tells you where they came from pre-rez!

Aside from his voice actor being Vietnamese, his entry in the official cookbook is banh mi, a Vietnamese dish, and his clothes are Chinese, which would point to him being Hoa, the Han people of Vietnam. (He also wraps his clothes in an orientation specific to corpses, because he doesn't count Lightbearers as truly alive humans.)

Behavior-wise, though, have you noticed how obsessed he is with jade? The coins, the necklace. Jade is a very precious stone in the Sinosphere, and jade jewelry is for giving luck or protection to the wielder- what you will hear less commonly is that it is meant to work by breaking instead of you when something happens. We give them to kids and elderly for this reason.

(You can wonder, for a second, the jade coins he always plays with before Gambit rounds, wraps around certain weapons for you, and the Red String of Fate ornament for Malfeasance. Is this a man perpetually deeply terrified for everyone or himself, or is he every middle aging ah-yi who just got back into religion while you were in school?)

So he's Vietnamese and the Chinese influence means his pre-rez life had to have been after Chinese imperial interference with Vietnam. Unfortunately, four different historical periods between 111 BC and the 1400s isn't good carbon dating. KE SHI NI HUI KANDAO THE SANDWICH,

banh mi is a baguette sandwich. this kind of bread comes to vietnam in the mid-19th century from French colonizers, and only during WWI did a mixed flour version make this bread accessible outside luxury. Early 1900s le. But "post-1900s" isn't a better narrowing down than "BCs to 1400s" in a future setting like Destiny.

Except that Drifter's banh mi recipe specifically uses pâté. This was only a common banh mi filling before the 1950s, when the partition of Vietnam sent an influx of northerners to Saigon and led to the Saigon sandwich that is modern banh mi. So, 1910s to 1950s. And the fact that he defaults to hanfu rather than Western dress or more modern standard Vietnamese ethnic clothing like ao dai skews him having been an adult on the earlier end of this time frame or living in a more rural area where colonization ideas were not as enforced. (One could explore him having other Vietnamese forms of cultural expression like lacquered teeth, actually.)

Ain't that something? He could have lived through WWI or even saw the beginning of the Communist revolution. The possibility that his first life was a survivor of colonization, war draft, and/or violent civil war could add a lot to readings of his character, especially his C-PTSD, but that's a whole other post if the people demand it. It's a neat thing to explore, huh?

And don't call him a rat le! Bad enough already the game think that is cute! White people calling East Asians rats is generally a slur in reference (from my collection) to immigrant "infestation" and part of general stereotypes about their uncleanliness (they cook with gutter oil, they eat rats, they cheap they scam they lie dadadada). You want source bigger than I grow up with white people shout in my face and their children pull their eyes to squint like a "jap"? Look up WWI propaganda posters about Japan. They did not invent that out of nowhere, they make Japanese people into rats because that's something they already say.

"It's just about Japanese-" what if I told you a large part of Western racism about Asians is that they can't tell the difference and don't care. and they're making fun of similar cultures and features.

"My Asian friend said it was okay-" the asian friend values your friendship and your comfort more than what they feel when you say slurs, dude. sorry i had to be the one to tell you that. one friend (or stranger online) giving you the pass to say it in front of them doesn't mean you're allowed to say it to everyone.

"it's fictional-" Real East Asian people getting beat down by Sinophobia matters a little more than how cute you think it is to call a Vietnamese man an animal that your culture associates with filth and plague.

"Chinese zodiac animal-" The snake is right there. The game won't shut up about how snake he is. We're having a Drifter-heavy episode right in the beginning of the snake lunar year. His personality matches the charm, mystery, and wisdom associated with the sign. He is never thematically associated with rats. He is never respectfully associated with rats.

It would be one thing if it was another asian character calling him that in the context of the rat's folkloric characteristics, but this is an American game by an American studio writing someone voiced by a non-asian to call him a rat as an insult about his cleanliness and food choices. Good for you if that doesn't hurt your feelings! Hurt many more people than you! They more real than him!

Good game story. Mistakes happen! Doesn't mean you have special privilege to repeat it.

He is snake! Viper! Asp! Cost zero dollar to say that instead! Don't keep a pet slur in your pocket!

[hyperactively-me]

ask from @redzscare

(king!ghost x princess!reader au) -- anger

i just wanna say oh my god, thank you for your inbox message with those two amazing and well thought out ideas!!!! i would also love to know your other ideas if you still have any :) and i know its been over a month since you requested, but i wanted to do your ideas justice! i decided to split them up into two separate pieces so that it can flow better in the story, but i have your first request in my "to be written" notes, and it will be posted in the future!!!! i hope you like it! the angst is immaculate and heart-wrenching. anyway, here is #2!!!

word count: ~3.6k

warnings: fighting/yelling, angst lots of angst/hurt (like A LOT, A TON, he's so mean, you've been warned), hurt/comfort, happy ending!!!

The past few weeks have been nothing but stressful for Kastron. A southern kingdom, for no clear reason, has been trying to infiltrate the borders of Kastron. As the tension between the two realms escalated, King Simon found himself ensnared in the web of political turmoil and military strategies, his every waking moment consumed by the threat looming at the kingdom's doorstep.

As the southern kingdom persisted in its attempts to breach Kastron’s defenses, Simon’s frustration grew. Kastron’s forces have been able to hold off the enemy for the past few weeks, but the battle was proving to get more difficult by the day. His days were spent in council meetings, devising counterstrategies, and restless nights plagued by the knowledge of impending conflict.

Throughout the past few weeks as Simon was extremely busy, you had taken to caring for more things around the castle. By no means was it an easy task. Your already busy schedules were now packed with more mundane, tedious tasks. You had to step into a few roles that Simon usually took care of, thrown into uncharted territory that you now had to know like the back of your hand. 

To say you were stressed was an understatement. To say that you felt secure in this new position would be a lie. Hell, even with your lessons, you were still slightly insecure about helping run a whole kingdom. The lessons were truly helpful, and you really were learning useful information, but to actually put this knowledge into practice proved to be more difficult than you thought; a learning curve, if you will. 

Every evening before you went to bed, you watched Simon with a heavy heart. Stress etched lines on his face, and the once affectionate bond between you strained under the weight of your responsibilities. 

The command room now had countless maps, scrolls, and military reports scattered across the tables, and you found yourself poring over them, trying to decipher strategies that seemed more like cryptic codes than plans for defense. The language of war was harsh, and its intricacies were not easily grasped. You also had to take care of more civilian matters, tending to disputes and other technicalities that arose when handling such matters. Managing the palace as well proved to be more difficult, although it was not as prioritized as other duties you had to upkeep. 

Simon, in his stress and preoccupation, had not noticed the added weight on your shoulders. The castle, usually filled with warmth, now echoed with the sounds of strategizing military personnel and the tension that gripped every corner.

One day, as you were immersed in the endless paperwork, a knock on the chamber door interrupted your thoughts. Simon, looking more fatigued than ever, stood at the threshold.

“I need these reports on the southern borders done by tomorrow morning. Make sure they’re accurate,” he said, his voice clipped and devoid of the usual tenderness. It echoed the commanding voice he reserved for his soldiers.

You take a breath. “I’m not sure I can have those ready for you by tomorrow Simon. Can’t you ask someone else to do them for me? I’m sure Price can—”

“Price is extremely busy devising strategies. He doesn’t have time for paperwork.” 

Simon's curt response echoed through the room, leaving you with a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. The weight of the responsibilities, the unrelenting pressure, and now Simon's growing impatience were pushing you to the brink.

“Simon, I'm doing my best,” you pleaded, looking up from the parchment strewn across the table. “I'm still learning, and there's just so much to handle.”

Simon's eyes flashed with frustration. “We don't have the luxury of time for you to ‘learn.’ We need results, and we need them now.”

The exhaustion etched on his face mirrored your own weariness. The kingdom's issues had taken its toll on both of you, driving a wedge between you.

“I’m just asking for your patience,” you implored, hoping for a flicker of understanding in his eyes.

His gaze remained unyielding. “I ask you to take care of things in my absence, to support me. And it seems even that is too much.”

“I'm sorry, but I'm trying my best,” you scoff.

Simon scoffs back, his expression a stern resolve. 

“I don't have time for apologies. I need solutions. Figure it out,” he said, turning on his heel and leaving the room without a backward glance.

Left alone, burdened by the weight of your responsibilities, an angry tear escapes the corner of your eye. The castle walls seem to close in on you, and with a swift motion, you brush the tear away, forcing your attention back to the task at hand.

. . .

It was an innocent mistake, a forgotten task that finally ignited Simon's brewing anger like a firecracker on the brink of explosion. 

As you stood before him, explaining the oversight, his eyes darkened with frustration.

“Are you even paying attention?" Simon's voice rose with frustration.

The storm within him erupted, and hurtful words spilled from his lips like daggers. "How could you be so careless?" he bellowed. "This is important, and you can't even handle the simplest tasks!"

"I'm sorry, Simon. I’ve been busy, but I'll fix it," you pleaded, trying to diffuse the growing storm.

"Fix it?" Simon scoffed, his anger unabated. "You're always making mistakes, aren't you? I don't know why I expected anything different from you. You’re just a fuckin’ spoiled little princess, just complaining about all the work she has to do. You’ve never seen a day of real work in your whole life, and the moment you have to do anything remotely helpful, you become useless.” 

You’re stunned into silence. It feels like your heart has fallen out of your chest, your throat constricting with anxiety. This isn’t the Simon you knew. 

"You can't possibly understand the pressure I'm under!” Simon's voice carried a harsh edge as he spoke, the strain evident in every word.

"I tried my best, Simon. I'm not used to this," you replied, hurt laced through your voice. The word useless echoes through your mind. How could he? 

"Your best isn't good enough. We can't afford mistakes," he snapped.

“We’re supposed to be a team," you responded gently, trying to bridge the growing chasm between you.

But Simon's patience had worn thin. “You can't even manage the affairs within the castle! How am I supposed to rely on you when you can't even handle the simplest tasks?”

"I'm sorry, Simon. I never wanted to let you down," you whispered, your voice barely audible amidst the tension.

"Let me down?" Simon laughed bitterly. "You were never lifting me up in the first place. Just a burden I have to carry alongside everythin’ else I have to worry about."

His words pierced through you like a million iron swords. The once warm and loving connection between you and Simon now felt frayed, hanging by the thinnest of threads. Your attempts to support him had become ammunition for his anger.

"Maybe you're right. Maybe I'm not cut out for this,” you admitted shortly, your shoulders slumping under the weight of defeat.

Simon's expression twisted with a mixture of frustration and exasperation. “That's the first sensible thing you've said.”

His cruel words struck a nerve, tearing down the foundations of trust and understanding that had defined your relationship. His words hung in the air like a bitter aftertaste. Hurt and frustration welled up within you, but you swallowed them and bottled them up, unwilling to add to Simon's burden.

The pain in your eyes did not escape Simon, but his frustration blinded him to the depth of his own words. In that moment, the man you loved seemed like a stranger, his anger, frustrations, and impatience casting a shadow over you.

With a heavy heart, you walk away, desperately holding back tears. It took everything within you to not let out an audible sob, clasping your hand over your mouth. You push open the door hastily, stumbling out into the hallway. You wipe your now falling tears off your cheeks with the back of your hand as you make your way to your old bedroom. 

The echoes of Simon's bitter words lingered in the corridor as you escaped into the dimly lit hallway. Desperation clawed at your chest, and with each step, the weight of his accusations pressed harder. Holding back sobs, you fumbled your way to the shared bedroom, seeking solace in the sanctuary you once knew.

Once inside, the room felt emptier than before, its warmth replaced by an icy chill. Closing the door behind you, you allowed a few silent tears to fall, the pain of Simon's harsh words cutting deep. As you glanced around the room, the memories of happier times haunted the corners. A sense of isolation settled in, and you felt like a stranger in the very place that used to bring comfort. Swallowing hard, you allow yourself to let it all out, crying into the empty bedroom. The resilient facade you had built over the weeks seemed to crumble in the face of his words.

The weight of the crown, both figuratively and literally, felt heavier than ever. With a shudder, you begin to remove the regalia that symbolized your responsibility as queen, a responsibility that had become increasingly difficult.

The empty now seemed like a cold, unwelcoming space. You curled up, hugging a pillow close to your chest, seeking any source of comfort. The room held a somber silence, a silence you haven’t heard since you were last in this room, before you had fallen in love with Simon. 

As sleep finally overcame you, the hope for a better tomorrow mingled with the ache of your strained relationship. 

. . .

Sleep had been elusive, and the echoes of Simon's bitter words reverberated in your mind. With a sigh, you rose from the solitude of your old bedroom, still haunted by the sense of isolation that clung to you.

He hadn’t even come looking for you. 

You had called a maid to help you get dressed in your room, but made her swear to not say anything about you being back in this room to the rest of the staff. You purposefully waited until after your usual breakfast time with Simon to get something to eat, strolling into the kitchen to request a small breakfast. 

After breakfast, you read through your schedule for the day. Today you were supposed to have defense lessons with Simon. Not going to happen. Taking a pen, you scratch it off your to-do list. 

With a sigh, you run through the rest of your plan for the day, mostly consisting of busy work and advising. 

The day unfolded in a haze of responsibilities, each task demanding your focus. Advising on matters of governance and managing the affairs of the kingdom became a refuge, a temporary escape from the emotional turmoil that threatened to swallow you whole.

Dinner that night came and went, and again you had refused to sit at the table with him. Instead, you chose to wait until after he was gone to eat. Sitting at the expansive table, you picked around at your food, taking small bites before you became nauseous with unease. 

This was the longest you’ve gone without Simon the whole time you’ve proclaimed your love for him, and it’s only been a day. After finishing your solitary meal, you made your way to your old bedroom yet again. The night pressed on, silent and unwavering, wrapping the castle in a cocoon of quiet melancholy. And so, you retired to your old bedroom, bracing yourself for another night of sleepless contemplation in the face of a relationship that seemed to be slipping through your fingers.

. . . 

Another agonizingly painful day had gone by of you avoiding Simon. The same evening, he had come to knock on your door.

He called your name from behind the door. His voice sounded gentle, yet strained. 

You stayed silent, unmoving from your curled up position on the bed. 

He persisted, knocking louder this time. 

“Go away,” you yell, fighting back more tears as your heartstrings were being tugged with every time he called your name. 

“‘M not going away until you come out,” his muffled voice filtered through from under the door.

“Yeah, well, I may as well rot away in here. Leave me alone, Ghost.” 

That shut him up immediately. You could hear his footsteps fade away in the distance. 

You sob into your pillow, burying your face in the fabric to muffle your cries. 

. . .

The next morning was rough. You were groggy, two nights of restless sleep taking a toll on you. Right before you entered the kitchen for breakfast you were stopped by Ghost. He had jumped in front of you out of nowhere, blocking you from entering the kitchen. 

“Dove, please—” he began. 

“Don’t call me that, get away from me–”

You try to sidestep him, looking at the ground as you attempt to move past him. 

“Just listen to me–” he grabs your shoulders firmly, forcing you to stay in place.

“Let go of me–” you shrug his hands off, yanking his wrists off your shoulders with a vice grip. He lets you shake him off you, but still moves to block you from entering the kitchen.

You sigh angrily, finally looking up at him with a death glare. 

“Oh, you finally need me for something, right? Is this what this is all about?” 

Simon's eyes held a mixture of concern and frustration. “I need to talk to you. Please, just listen to me.”

The coldness in your expression didn't waver. “Talk? Is this about another mistake I made, or perhaps you've found another fault in your ‘spoiled princess’?”

Simon winced at the reference to his hurtful words. “No, it's not about that. It's about us. I... I overreacted, and I said things I shouldn't have. I need you to understand the pressure I'm under.”

A bitter laugh escaped your lips. “Pressure? Yes, I understand. I've been picking up work and dealing with responsibilities I’m not prepared for. I understand pressure very well.”

Simon's jaw tightened, regret flashing in his eyes. "I know I've been distant, and I've let this problem consume me for the past few weeks. But, dove, we can work through this. I need you.”

Your anger flared. “Now you need me? When everything is falling apart? What about when I needed you? You were too busy berating me.” 

The word berating came out stressed, and a flare of emotions bubbled in your chest. You fought against tears threatening to spring from your eyes. 

Simon's expression softened, nothing but remorse in his eyes. "I fucked up. I should’ve never said those things to you. I was wrong, and I’m sorry. Please, let me make it right.”

You shake your head, taking a step back. 

“You can't just apologize and expect everything to go back to normal. Words have consequences.” A fat tear rolls down your cheek. “I’m not one of your soldiers you can order around.” 

The moment Simon sees the tear, knowing that he’s the cause of it, he comes crashing down. 

He drops to his knees in front of you, his eyes pleading with a desperate intensity. “I never meant to hurt you. I can't bear to see you cry, especially because of me. Please, give me a chance to make things right.”

You sniffle, wiping the tear away quickly. The raw vulnerability in his voice tugged at your heart, but you held onto the shards of your wounded pride. 

He reaches for you, holding your hips tightly in his grasp as he looks up at you from the floor. His hands on your hips sought reassurance, his eyes pleading for a chance at redemption. You fold your arms over your chest, hugging yourself tightly. 

“Please, love, please, I will do anything, I’ll prove to you every single day for the rest of my life that I can treat you the way you deserve. I don’t want to turn into my father.” 

His thumbs press into the flesh of your hips, his usual stoic demeanor crumbles, and in this moment of vulnerability, he’s laying bare his regrets. 

His father. His terrible, disgusting, abusive father. 

"You’re not turning into your father, Simon," you whispered, your voice carrying reassurance. "But you also can't treat me like that ever again. We're a team. But it's also not just about the words. It's about trust and understanding.”

He nods, swallowing thickly. 

"Please, dove," he implored, his voice choking with emotion. “I never meant to hurt you like this. I'm begging you, give me a chance to make things right. I can't stand to see you in pain.”

“I miss you,” he whispers, and you spot a few tears in the corners of his eyes. You’ve never seen him cry before. “I miss you, and I don’t deserve you. Not after what I did to you.” 

Your heart wavered, torn between the hurt he caused and the raw vulnerability he now displayed. The sight of Simon, a powerful and composed ruler, reduced to tears, spoke volumes about the depth of his regret.

As you looked down at him, a swirl of conflicting emotions clouded you. Part of you wanted to pull him into an embrace, to reassure him that things could get better. Yet, the wounds were still fresh, and trust can’t be easily mended. You swipe his tears away with the pad of your thumb. 

“Simon,” you began, your voice gentle but firm, "this isn't something that can be fixed overnight. It's going to take time."

He nodded vigorously, his tear-streaked face desperate for any glimmer of hope. "I'll do anything, dove. Anything to make it right.”

The sincerity in his voice resonated, and for a moment, you softened. “Simon, I need you to understand that we're in this together. We need to communicate and support each other.”

Simon nodded, a genuine determination in his eyes. "I promise you, I'll be there for you. No more takin’ out my frustrations on you, it will never happen again, so long as I live.” 

You sighed, the weight of the situation still heavy on your shoulders. “Actions speak louder than words.”

He nodded again, his gaze unwavering. "I'll prove it to you, every day."

Releasing your hips, Simon stood up, his eyes never leaving yours. The air between you held a mix of tension and tentative hope. 

“I love you, dove. I love you.”

He wipes his face clear of the tears, and you stand there, twisting your hands together. His hands brush over your upper arms, causing you to shiver slightly, but this time you don’t back away. You let him ever so slowly pull you in for a hug, and you reluctantly grasp on to his tunic. His arms pull you in tighter now, and he strokes your hair in reassurance. 

You breathe out the quietest, “I love you.”

. . .

A few weeks passed, and the castle, once shrouded in tension, began to regain its warmth. The scars of those horrendous three days were healing, and your relationship with Simon has strengthened more than ever. The air was lighter and you felt like a significant change had occurred between you and Simon. 

Simon had indeed lived up to his promise. He consistently showed effort in rebuilding trust. Small, thoughtful gestures became the norm—unexpected flowers, shared quiet moments, and the tenderness in his voice returned. The voice he has reserved only for you. You had moved back into his room after a while, sharing a bed again has never felt so good for you. Honestly, you were relieved. You didn’t have any doubt that Simon wouldn’t live up to his promises. 

The castle had transformed back into a sanctuary. The sounds of strategizing military personnel were replaced with the hum of everyday life. The warmth returned, and the tension that once gripped every corner dissipated like a distant memory.

The conflict in the south had been resolved after Kastron’s forces were successfully able to defend the border. Their motives were still unclear, but Simon had put it behind him. 

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, you found yourself in the garden. The air was crisp, and the fragrance of blooming flowers filled the space. Simon joined you, and together you strolled through the gardens, hand in hand.

“I missed this,” you smile, leaning into Simon’s side. 

Simon tightened his grip around you, his eyes softening as he looked at the vibrant hues of the sunset. "I missed this too."

The weight that once burdened your relationship had lifted, replaced by a renewed sense of connection and trust. The garden echoed with the shared laughter and whispered promises of your love, and it always will. 

Simon glanced down at you, a hint of playfulness in his eyes. “Do you remember the first time we walked through these gardens together?” he asked, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You giggled, the memory surfacing in your mind. "How could I forget? You were trying to plant the most random assortment of seeds during the off-season.”

Simon laughed, a genuine sound that warmed your heart. “I was nervous. I wanted everything to be perfect.”

“And look at us now,” you said, gazing up at him. “Perfectly imperfect.”

He pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. “I love you, darlin.’”

The sincerity in his words made your heart flutter. “I promise to always be with you.”

The sun dipped lower, casting a warm glow over the castle and the garden. As you continued your leisurely stroll, the castle loomed in the distance, its turrets illuminated by the fading sunlight. 

The stars began to twinkle in the evening sky, and Simon pulled you closer. “Let's stay out a bit longer, yeah?”

“Mhm,” you nod, nuzzling against him. 

You take a beat.

“I love you, too,” you whisper. 

He strokes your waist, squeezing your flesh in his grip.

“I love you.”

- - - - -

(masterlist)

[goose-smoothie]

Some of my favourite autistic-coded characters.

Representation is important, but sometimes labels are frustrating cause it reduces us to a set of characteristics instead of a person who also happens to be ASD. And often, people who are written to be autistic are nothing but supports and stereotypes. So here are a list of some of my fav ASD-coded characters, because autism is a spectrum :)

Cassandra Pentaghast - Dragon Age 2, Dragon Age: Inquisition

The slightly mean tutorial lady with a heart of gold. No time for fools. Her most famous quote is *disgusted noise*. She's a sucker for romance books, although she won't tell anyone. Can smite you with a look. Seems cold but is an absolute sweetheart. Cares about the truth and order, and has a strong moral compass that often trumps her black and white thinking. Strange accent which is unique to her. Has made her special interest her job. Hates liars. Is very blunt.

T'Lyn - Star Trek: Lower Decks

One could argue that all Vulcans are on the spectrum, but she is somehow the Vulcan's version of autistic. Is overly emotional (for a Vulcan). Has special interests and fixates on certain things. Does not adhere to social expectations and rules. When her friends are distressed she tries to do activities with them which they love, unsure how to discuss emotional needs. She has Bendii syndrome which makes it hard for her to control her emotional output (telepath shenanigans). "Water, room tempreture."

Spock - Star Trek

Is a fucking sassy bitch and often states 'facts' that offends the people around him. Just wants to be left alone to do his own thing. Father has Bendii syndrome (see above). Is too human for Vulcans and too Vulcan for humans. Had/has learning disabilities, most prominent when he was a child. Usually placid, until he gets angry and then not even God could save you. Will get sidetracked at inappropriate times. "Captain, I wish to take a sample of this fascinating specimen." "Spock, there's no time people are dying right now."

Shadowheart - Baldur's Gate 3

She's got the T-Rex hands and manages to make the thing I am most self-conscious of look graceful. Very devoted, all-or-nothing type person. Wardrobe is only black and purple. Breathes metaphors. Seems cold and pragmatic, but is a big softie underneath. Quick wit. "You mean I'd get to prove you wrong and thrash you?" Takes a while to open up and trust. Snark as a first language. Gets frustrated easily and needs to be perfect at everything first try. Identity crisis. Her idea of practical jokes are more awkward and endearing than funny. Special interests, which includes one particular flower that blooms once and dies(also black and purple), and religion.

Sylvia Tilly - Star Trek: Discovery

I fucking love this woman so goddamn much. She is relateable, stupidly competent, ambitious, and hilarious. Will talk for hours and can be inappropriately excitable and brutally honest but in a well-meaning way. Invites a guy back to her room to discuss potentially stranding cadets on a moon for a training exercise, not realising that he's staring at her with heart eyes, before kicking him out. "I love feeling feelings." Makes friends with the mutineer. Looks like she counts the seconds of eye-contact before looking away, to make sure it's right. She's got stims and mannerisms. Honestly, she is one of the best portrayals of autism I've seen so far in media (second only to Dr Brennan from Bones).

Tori - Heartstopper

Her face betrays nothing. Deadpan. Emotional support straw. Wardrobe is streamlined into three different colours, all dark. Will kill for her brother. Uses logic like a weapon. "Don't touch me." Doesn't respect social hierarchy. Looks way older than she is, but simultaneously ageless. Unnerving stare. Social life who? ASEXUAL QUEEN.

Leliana - Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Inquisition

Andraste's original fan-girl. Special interests include, religion and murder. Duty bound. Dry sense of humour but also very sweet. Looks scary but she's not, unless you piss her off. Moral compass? Sometimes. Cutesy codenames. Gets frustrated when people question her and the way she views the world. Has no less that seven knives on her person at all times. Loves shoes. Sings a little song in camp to express her feelings. Fucking loves those little nugs (hairless rabbits with hands for feet). "Hey, do you want me to extort or murder this guy for you? It will solve the problem."

Beauregard "Beau" Lionett - Mighty Nein (Critical Role)

So much negative rizz that it swings back around. Hates being put into a box. Takes detailed notes. If the phrase 'walk it off' were a person. Inappropriate jokes at inappropriate times. Has a big bag of ball bearings. Problems with authority. Gendernorms who? The most awkward person around although she thinks she's the most normal. With visible confusion, "What?" (I also suspect Marisha may be on the spectrum.)

Zuko - Avatar: The Last Airbender

Thinks he's going to die without his father's approval. Doesn't seem to get emotion, although he feels very deeply. Black and white thinking about the world (which he then learns to sort through). Has a strong sense of justice, except when it comes to himself. "That's rough, buddy." Frustration and anger issues and immense empathy. Practices what he's going to say before speaking but still messes it up. Jokes go over his head. Azula is also defs on the spectrum.

Honourable Mentions Dr Temperance "Bones" Brennan - Bones Jasnah Kholin - The Stormlight Archive Keyleth - The Legend of Vox Machina (Critical Role) Dulcie Collins - Deadloch Mr Darcy - Pride and Prejudice

[okayrudemuch]

𝐴𝑙𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝐼 𝑑𝑖𝑑𝑛'𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑛t 💋

Roomates (Quarterback) Abby x Fem!Reader (who is an early 2000's y2k baddie)

Chapter 1 - I really hate you

Chapter 2 - Whatever I do, it's always wrong

Chapter 3 - You can shove it

Chapter 4 - That girl just drives me insane

Chapter 5 - Better leave the beret here

Chapter 6 - She´s pretty

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Chapter 6 - She's pretty

contains: roommates; modern AU!; maybe some grammar mistakes, english is not my first language; a pub ;); lots of ireland vibes; slowburn; i listened to the night pat murphy died on repeat, while writing this; alcohol consume!

word count: 4,4k

You understand absolutely nothing. Truly, nothing at all. To your left, a group of students are chanting “Defense! Defense!” in something that vaguely resembles a chorus, and to your right, half a pack of popcorn flies through the air from sheer excitement.

Almost everyone on your side of the stands is dressed in blue and white or has their face painted in those same colors, while you, in your black platform knee-high boots, look like you’ve completely missed the dress code memo. You’re also, apparently, the only one still sitting.

Dina, for example, is standing on the metal bleachers next to you, like many others, whistling wildly and full of enthusiasm, like she’s at a rock concert, not a home game of her university’s football team. She’s proudly wearing a Silver Lake Falcons jersey that says “Williams” on the back, naturally, and underneath, the number 13.

Before the game started, Dina explained to you that Ellie is the so-called “wild receiver.” Which, as far as you can tell, basically means she’s the one catching passes from Abby, the quarterback. And ideally, she then scores a touchdown. So, a point. Or something like that.

Dina was also the one who talked you into taking a break from your creeping to-do list for the gala and suggested tagging along to the game. You were only mildly enthusiastic, especially considering the fact that, on top of university stress, you really need to make progress on the decorations if you want to meet the inhuman deadline Abby threw at you a few days ago.

“But the theme of our gala is literally For Future Female Athletes,” Dina had argued. “You can’t seriously co-organize a gala for women in sports with our women’s football team if you’ve never even been to one of their games!”

And now you’ve been sitting here for over an hour on this cold metal bench, desperately trying to follow what’s happening on the field. It’s late afternoon, and the sky is overcast. A light drizzle has settled over Silver Lake, but it doesn’t seem to bother the fans or the players much.

“Second quarter! Third down! If they make this one, it’s a tie, oh my god!” Dina yells, whether at you or just into the crowd, you’re not sure. You don’t understand any of it anyway. Still, you nod at her words, pull your jacket tighter around yourself, and try to follow the game through the sea of students standing in front of you.

You spot Abby immediately. Even with the helmet and those funny, bulky pads the players wear under their jerseys, you’d recognize your roommate’s body language among all 22 players. And maybe also because her jersey says “Anderson, 17” across the back.

Abby shouts some kind of code you can’t make out, and then everything happens so fast you can’t keep up. The reddish-brown ball, the “egg,” as you’ve learned, is tossed to her. Abby catches it like it’s the easiest thing in the world, dodges a defender from the Ridge Valley Tigers immediately.

You used to think all football players looked like Abby, tall and muscular. But there are lots of smaller, leaner girls on the field, and Abby’s build actually stands out a bit. What a body looks like has nothing to do with what it can do, you realize, watching these players still running this fast and hard over an hour into the game. Impressive.

The game picks up speed again. Abby has the egg, dodges a defender, and then you see her. Ellie. Moving so fast she almost looks like a blur, already sprinting. You don’t understand how she always knows when the ball is coming, but somehow, she just does. Abby throws it, fast, precise, like she’s been practicing it in her sleep, and the ball arcs perfectly through the cold evening air.

For a moment, it feels like the entire stadium holds its breath. And then Ellie catches it. Mid-sprint, without slowing down for a second, she reaches up, grabs the egg securely, and barrels through. Two Tigers players try to stop her, but she’s too fast. Too quick, too in her element, it sends a shiver down your spine, even if you barely understand what’s going on.

And then she’s in the end zone. The crowd around you erupts. Dina screams so loud you think your eardrums might burst. “Touchdown, baby! That’s my girlfriend!”

You can’t help but get swept up in the general excitement and clap your hands. Whatever Abby and Ellie just pulled off, it looked pretty damn impressive.

“Last play! Thirty seconds on the clock!” the announcer yells through the loudspeakers, and the game picks up again immediately. Dina flails her arms around so much you have to duck to avoid getting smacked in the face.

“Oh my god, they’re really going for it,” Dina pants, and you’re starting to worry about her blood pressure. “A freaking flea flicker?! Silver Lake, what are you doing?”

You have no idea what a flea flicker is, but the ball’s with Abby, so you clap like you’ve learned to do. Only this time, something’s different. Abby doesn’t throw right away. Instead, she hands the ball off. To Ellie? No, Ellie fakes it. Pretends to run. And suddenly, the ball’s back with Abby.

You are completely lost, and so is the Tigers’ defense, it seems. A couple of players turn too early, one stumbles, and then you see it: Abby’s running.

And how she runs. Not like someone just killing the clock. She’s going for it. Dodging one opponent, tucking the ball tight to her chest, sending two Tigers sprawling into empty space.

You hear Dina yelling something, but you’re too focused on the blonde figure charging toward the end zone. You’re on your feet now, completely locked in.

Ten yards. Five. Her braid flutters beneath her helmet. Abby dives, right through a last desperate block, and hits the ground, the egg still firmly in her grasp.

Touchdown. For a second, there’s nothing. And then the stadium explodes.

“TOUCHDOOWN! ABBY ANDERSON! THE GAME IS OVER!” the announcer bellows through the loudspeakers, but you barely hear him. Dina hugs you so tight you wheeze, students are jumping, pom-poms flying, and above all the chaos stands Abby, out of breath, hair full of grass, and grinning.

The marching band kicks into some repetitive tune, and the cheering doesn’t let up. The Falcons pull off their helmets and throw themselves into one another’s arms, but not before respectfully shaking hands with the Ridge Valley Tigers. The Falcons have won. Their second victory of the season.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.” Dina’s bouncing up and down, pulling off her blue-and-white scarf and looping it around your neck. “This has to be celebrated,” she yells.

You try to subtly shrug the scarf back off, it really doesn’t go with your outfit, but Dina already has you by the hand and is pulling you toward the exit. It takes a while to push through the mass of students pouring from the stands all at once.

You glance over your shoulder for a last look at the field. The players are still patting each other on the back before briefly piling on top of their coach, then disappearing into the locker room to the last notes of the university anthem.

Once you make it off the bleachers, Dina pulls out her phone. “I’ll text Ellie that we’re waiting for her and Abby outside the locker room,” she announces, fingers flying across the screen.

You head toward the building where the players are getting changed and showered. The large crowd flows in the opposite direction, away from the field and toward the main building, where the university’s own pubs and cafes are.

Dina pockets her phone and links arms with you as you stroll toward the locker room. The drizzle has picked up again, and the sky is still cloud-covered and growing darker. Once you’ve made your way past the length of the field, you reach the entrance of the locker room building.

You take shelter under a narrow bike rack to keep out of the rain and silently pray you don’t catch a cold, that’s the last thing you need while organizing this gala. You try to bury your red nose into the frankly hideous scarf and shuffle your feet to stay warm. “You are coming to the pub, right?” Dina suddenly asks, and you blink at her in surprise.

You had heard the team was heading to the university pub after the game, hoping to celebrate a win, but you didn’t think you were expected to join. You figured you’d congratulate Ellie, give Abby a half-hearted side-eye, and then bounce.

“Um, I’m not so sure,” you mumble, shoving your cold hands deep into your coat pockets. The scarf is still draped over your shoulders. “I don’t think I’d really fit in with all the football girls and stuff.”

Mentally, you’re already curled up under your blanket back home, relishing Abby’s absence and bingeing some Netflix show, but Dina has other plans.

“Oh come on, it’s gonna be fun!” she says, throwing an arm around you. “It’s your first football game and our team won. That has to be celebrated!” “They also have really good beer!” she adds.

You make a face. It’s not that you hate beer. But if you had the choice, you’d pick a cold piña colada over any kind of lager in the world. “I don’t know anyone there,” you try again. “You know me,” Dina grins. “And you know Abby.” You roll your eyes at the mention of your roommate.

“And… ELLIE!” Dina suddenly screams, tearing herself away from you and running to greet her girlfriend, who’s just now exiting the locker room, Abby in tow.

You get the feeling you won’t be able to congratulate Ellie any time soon, since Dina is already all over her, kissing her enthusiastically. Ellie just laughs deeply in response.

Which leaves you, rather reluctantly, focusing on Abby. Her hair is down and still damp, whether from the rain or the shower, you can’t say. She’s swapped her jersey for her usual casual clothes, though her outfit is even more laid-back than what she usually wears around campus.

Loose linen pants that still strain slightly over her thick thighs, worn-out Converse, and a black hoodie that’s definitely seen better days. Over it all, she’s wearing a black, oversized leather jacket that gives off the vibe she might hop onto a Harley any second and ride off dramatically into the rain.

Her sports bag is slung casually over one broad shoulder and she briefly smirks at the couple next to her before taking a few steps toward you. She stops just in front of you, judging by the size of the shelter, she couldn’t really have gone any farther anyway, but even so, your breath catches in your throat.

“Hi,” she grins, as if you were old friends. You are completely caught off guard. Abby tilts her head slightly, causing a damp strand of hair to fall into her face.

“G-Good game,” you finally manage to press out, and you’re proud of yourself. On-topic, even. And because you’ve never had a good sense of your own confidence, and because Abby’s presence is completely overwhelming, you keep talking.

“That was a crazy… flick-flack at the end,” you add, praising her, and now Abby looks confused. Like she has no idea what you’re talking about. But suddenly, she starts to laugh, and the sound crawls up your spine and settles in your stomach.

“You mean the flea-flicker,” she laughs. Abby must still be riding her winner’s high if her mood’s this good and she’s willingly talking to you, and you wish for nothing more than a hole to open beneath your feet.

“Whatever,” you mumble and bury your face in your scarf so she can’t see your undoubtedly flushed cheeks. But before Abby can say anything else, Dina suddenly appears behind her and jumps on her back. Since Abby is half wall, half human, she’s completely unfazed, and to distract yourself, you congratulate Ellie on the win.

“To the bar!” Dina grins from Abby’s back, raising a fist in the air. And just like that, your fate for the evening is sealed.

On the way, a few other players catch up with you, all of them in extremely good spirits, not surprising given their luck this season. It doesn’t take long to reach the pub, only a few minutes’ walk from the field. You’ve only been to Silver Lake Pub once before during your student life, some time in your first semester on a bar crawl.

Dina pushes open the wooden door hidden in an old stone wall, and then you all have to descend a ridiculously narrow spiral staircase made of stone before finally entering through a second wooden door. As soon as your best friend opens it, the pub’s noise hits you full force.

The place is packed. At nearly every wooden table sit students or older folks, drinking Guinness, playing cards, and laughing. At the bar, beer is being poured non-stop and bottle caps are being popped off. Premium liqueurs, whiskeys, and other spirits line the shelves above the bar and on high racks above the tables. Irish music plays in the background, and in one corner of the room, a few guys are throwing darts.

The atmosphere is lively, and your group squeezes through the crowd in search of your reserved tables. There are about fifteen of you, and the waiter was kind enough to reserve a corner where several large tables are pushed close together, almost like a banquet table. Dina pulls you cheerfully behind her and pushes you into a corner seat on the short side of the table next to a player you don’t know. She introduces herself kindly as Josephine, while Dina squeezes in on your other side.

Ellie plops down on the long side of the table right next to Dina, and Abby takes the seat next to her. So she’s almost sitting directly across from you. Great. You study the pictures on the stone walls intently, of Ireland or Scotland or whatever, just as a waitress shows up at your table.

“What’ll it be?” she asks. Abby turns to the group. “How many Guinness? And do you want a pitcher?” You glance questioningly at Dina.

“Don’t worry,” she grins. “I’ll order you a Despo.” You give her a grateful look, and once all the orders are in, the waitress disappears to relay them to the bar.

Josephine pulls a deck of cards out of her bag and grins. “Anyone up for a round of Crazy Eights?” The people sitting on your side of the table cheer in agreement, and by the time Josephine has dealt the cards, the drinks have already arrived.

Since it looks like tonight will be a continuous stream of you having no clue what’s going on, you team up with Dina. She’s also playing for the first time, but at least that way you’re not embarrassing yourself alone.

Ellie and Abby seem to be familiar with the game; they hold their cards confidently, and you get the feeling the football team visits this pub often. The game begins, beers are drained, and Abby and Ellie turn it into a challenge to drink perfectly down to the logo on the glass.

You’re incredibly thankful for your Desperados, especially after trying Abby’s Guinness and grimacing in disgust, prompting laughter from the whole table.

The alcohol starts to hit, the cards practically fly onto the table, and even though you still don’t fully understand the game, you begin to enjoy it.

You can’t help glancing at Abby again and again. The beer hasn’t left her unaffected either, her cheeks are slightly flushed, and she seems much more relaxed than usual. She’s laughing constantly and just seems… completely in her element. Her hair falls long over her shoulders, and her posture is casual.

She laughs when Ellie absolutely crushes another player and hides her face in her hands when she loses badly to you and Dina, which, honestly, is more luck than skill.

At some point during a game, she takes off her sweater, the heat in the pub is no joke, and you nearly choke on your Desperados when you see the gray tank top underneath. Her broad arms now rest against the table, and you don’t know if it’s the alcohol in your system expanding your senses, but you catch yourself staring.

Holy hell, was she always that muscular? Is this some kind of post-win glow? You don’t know, and before you start drooling, you force yourself to focus back on the Crazy Eights game, which is nearing its end.

“I need a break,” Ellie slurs, leaning back in her chair. “I need some fresh air,” Dina laughs and gets up unsteadily, prompting her girlfriend to immediately stand and support her, even though she can barely stand herself.

A few others follow them out, either for fresh air or to smoke, or both. And so, only a handful of people remain at the table, including you and Abby, who suddenly looks at you and then at your empty bottle.

“Need another beer?” she asks, and you are definitely too drunk to fully grasp how odd that is, because in no sober universe would your roommate Abby Anderson give a single damn whether you had a drink or not.

“Yeah,” you slur. “Why not.” She nods and gets up, heading toward the bar. You can’t help but stare at her back before burying your face in your hands.

You don’t even want to know what your makeup looks like right now, but you couldn’t care less. “Get it together,” you whisper to yourself. “Stop staring at Abby, what’s wrong with you?”

You take a few deep breaths, blame all your chaotic thoughts on the alcohol, and even manage to smile at Abby when she comes back, with a Desperados in her hand, just for you. You thank her. “How much do I owe you?” you ask, but Abby just shakes her head before sitting down.

Only not in her previous seat. Not even the one next to it. No, right next to you.

She casually drapes her arm along the back of the bench behind you, and her upper body bumps into yours. You’re frozen, staring at her open-mouthed as she raises her glass toward you. Eventually, you realize she wants to toast, so you raise your bottle. But just before the glasses clink, Abby pulls hers back slightly.

“You´re supposed to look the other person in the eye,” she commands, and because you’re completely overwhelmed by her closeness, you meet her blue eyes.

“Good girl,” she purrs, and clinks glasses.

You think you might die, right here, right now.

At her words, a heat blooms in your stomach that you’ve never felt because of Abby before.

She takes a relaxed sip of her Guinness, and you chalk everything up to her buzz. And to yours. This isn’t really happening. And where the hell is Dina?

You quickly avert your gaze, and luckily, your attention is drawn away the next moment anyway, because everyone who had gone outside for fresh air is now returning.

Among them are more players and people from university, so you scoot over on the bench, which Abby does immediately as well. Unfortunately, that doesn’t increase the distance between you. If anything, it makes it worse.

Now that even more people need a seat, it feels like your roommate is pressed even closer against you. You try to adjust to the situation, when suddenly, your name is called.

“Oh my God, you’re here?” yells none other than Lindsey, while Jess waves at you excitedly behind her.

You’re not sure if you’re imagining it, but for a second, you think you hear Abby sigh in annoyance next to you. “Wanna come over?” Lindsey asks, pointing to the table directly across from yours. “We got a second table.”

Since your own table is already overcrowded and you seriously need to gather your thoughts, which is absolutely impossible with Abby sitting so close to you, her expensive perfume in your nose and her biceps on full display, you grab your beer and climb over your roommate and the others before hopping off the bench and falling into the arms of your two newly found friends. You don’t notice Abby’s disappointed look.

You sit down with Jess and Lindsey at the table, where only a few other players are sitting with friends. “Did you go to the game too?” you ask the girls, who shake their heads. “We just heard the Falcons won and didn’t want to miss out on a spectacular pub night,” Lindsey grins and opens the menu.

You order another beer, and the conversation with Jess and Lindsey flows naturally. You laugh a lot and play a round of “Never Have I Ever” with the rest of the table. Every now and then, you glance over at Abby, who’s still perfectly in your line of sight thanks to her new seat, but you never catch her looking back. Something stirs inside you, a strange kind of dissatisfaction. Almost like you're disappointed that she’s not looking at you. Which makes absolutely no sense. Abby can keep her judgmental, annoying stares to herself, you think.

Time passes, and you excuse yourself for a moment to find the restroom. Your vision is already a little blurry around the edges and your steps are no longer the most stable, but you manage to make it to the women’s bathroom without issue. You wash your hands and look at yourself in the mirror. With a paper towel, you wipe away all the makeup that’s gathered under your eyes, then end up holding intense eye contact with yourself as you sway slightly in place. A very drunk phenomenon, as you laugh to yourself.

After fixing your hair, you turn toward the door to open it, but just as you step out of the bathroom, you collide with someone. Two strong arms catch you by the upper arms, and a very familiar scent hits your nose.

Abby. Of course.

“I didn’t even see you,” you laugh. Sober-you definitely wouldn’t find anything funny about this. But your roommate seems just as wasted, so you really don’t care.

“No problem,” she replies, and the sound of her deep, warm voice makes your pulse speed up. You can’t help but stare at her face. Abby leans one arm against the doorframe, as if the bathroom entrance is the perfect place to start a long conversation.

You can’t stop your eyes from drifting to her upper arm, which looks especially defined in her current posture.

“Having fun?” she finally asks, and you’re forced to look her in the eyes so you don’t come off like a total creep. You nod. “You?” you ask back.

“Yeah,” Abby answers. Then there’s a pause, like she’s carefully considering her next words. You can almost see them sitting on the tip of her tongue, but she’s still holding back. The alcohol in her system seems to make the decision for her, because there’s no other way to explain her next confession.

“It was more fun when you were still at our table.”

You’re speechless. In no world did you expect Abby to even notice your presence at her table, let alone measure her own enjoyment by whether or not you were there. You swallow. “Lindsey and Jess are here,” you explain the obvious. “And our table was so full…”

“Lindsey, huh?” Abby asks, crossing her arms over her chest. You silently thank the gods, because now you don’t have to keep sneaking glances at her biceps, though even with her arms crossed, they’re still… yeah.

“Yeah,” you whisper. Abby takes a small step toward you. The fact that you’re both still standing in the bathroom doorway doesn’t seem to bother her. Her eyes travel over your face, then her tongue wets her lips, and you can’t help but watch.

“She’s pretty,” Abby whispers, and even though you don’t understand why you’re both suddenly whispering when the pub behind you is booming with noise, it somehow fits the moment. “Yeah,” you say again, partly because she’s right and partly because you have no idea what else to say.

Abby keeps looking at you, the dim lighting of the pub somehow softening her usually tense features, making her look younger. But maybe that’s just the alcohol playing tricks on you, how else can you explain her stepping even closer? And why aren’t you stepping away? She’s close enough now that you can smell her damn perfume again, and when she exhales, you feel her breath on your cheek.

Suddenly, your entire universe feels impossibly small and the pub impossibly far away. Your whole focus is on Abby’s glossy eyes, her blue irises and pupils dilated from the alcohol. You notice the freckles on her skin, her sharp nose, her lips, slightly parted under your gaze. You’re drunk, way too drunk. Drunk enough not to want to back away, in fact, the opposite. Something inside you is pulling you toward her. Something so strong you can’t resist.

You exhale and take a tiny step closer. Abby drops her arms to her sides, her hands twitching as if she’s holding herself back from touching you, or doing something even more absurd.

She’s still looking down at you and you up at her, and never in your life has a height difference felt this goddamn attractive. Only a few centimeters separate you, and if it weren’t for how present her body feels in front of you, and the way you can feel her breath on your skin, you might think you were dreaming.

Abby’s hand twitches again at her side, but before she can give in to whatever is going through her mind, voices echo down the hallway, and suddenly, you’re very aware of your situation. You’re still in the pub, in the bathroom entrance, and your roommate Abby Anderson, who you supposedly can’t stand, is standing so close it’s like she… like she wants to...

You don’t finish the thought.

Carefully, you take a step back, finally breaking the tension. Two girls appear behind Abby, looking at her curiously. “Are you in line?” one asks, snapping Abby back to reality.

“Uhm…” she stammers. “Yeah,” she finally says and quickly slips past you into the bathroom. “And you?” the other girl asks you now, and you look at her like she’s from another planet. “No,” you mumble eventually. “I’ve already been.”

And with that, you slip out of the room, because the last thing you want is to be drunk and trapped in a tight space with Abby again.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

a/n: I was drunk while writing this ahahah so maybe I have to take a second look over it tomorrow. I also stepped in a bee two days ago. No fun lemme tell you that. I hope you like this chapter and yes I went a lil overboard with my usual word count but take it as an apology cs it took me some time to post this <3

taglist: @vangoes @modernvenuss @oatmatchalatte @starlockheart @mila-a-fanfiqueira

[qsplaylist]

how to set goals and actually achieve them ✧⋆⭒˚｡⋆

nonbasic tips from a girlie who’s learning to do just that! 

1. goal-setting strategies 

Start with a vision aka the big picture, but that sounds boring. Think about what you want to achieve. I know it’s hard, but you want to know exactly what you’re striving towards. Think about where you want to be in 6 months, 1 year, or maybe even 6 years. 

Write down your goals. Now that you have a vision, write goals (or smaller steps) that cater to your larger vision. 

Are your goals specific? Are they detailed enough for you to know exactly what you are doing when you’re working towards the goal? For example, “study more” is not a specific-enough goal, but “improving my physics grade from a B to an A” is a clearer goal. The more specific you are about exactly what each goal is, the easier it will be to achieve them. 

Are they measurable? Is it clear how you will determine when you have met your goal, or even how you will track your progress? For example, if I say I want to study physics more, there’s no quantification for what “more” means. A more measurable goal might be “I will study physics every day for at least 30 minutes” 

Do they align your vision? I really want to finish my CS50P coding class by the end of May, but it won’t align with my goal of improving my academic marks by a letter grade this semester. So, I disregard this goal for now, and I can come back to it once the school year ends. Same with many other goals. Make sure that they are actually relevant to your vision, not just seemingly relevant. 

Are they time-bound? Similar to procrastination, your goals will fit in the time frame you give it. Because of this, it is always best to set goals with deadlines. One thing I’m doing this year is improving my timed essay writing for the AP exam. So, my time-bound goal would be “I will complete one essay per week and improve my writing speed before the AP English Language exam in three months.” 

2. getting it done 

Success really is just a numbers game. How much time you put into your goals is how much progress you’ll see in return. It’s really that simple! Some days you’ll see more progress, and other days you will see a bit less. But every bit of effort adds up, even when it doesn’t feel like it. (those days you see less progress are the reasons why there are those special days with a lot of progress) 

Every second poured into your goal counts. It’s really true! No matter where you are, even a few minutes of consistent effort count more than inconsistent huge efforts. As for me towards my goal of improving my grades in certain classes and preparing for the AP exams in May, I found that studying anytime anywhere really helped lessen the burden of having to worry about studying and doing homework. I’ve even looked like a maniac doing homework on the floor of the band room in the times when I’m not playing. 

Do everything towards your goal. If it doesn’t align with your goals/vision, don’t do them. It’s much easier said than done, but sometimes you just gotta check yourself when you find yourself working on something that’s not towards the goal you want to achieve. 

Don’t think about it too hard. Action beats overthinking every time. Even if certain aspects of your plans change, or something doesn’t go as intended, just start, and the rest will fall into place.

you've got this!! sending all my best wishes <33

sincerely, q's playlist