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m-inluv · 2 days

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KUROO TETSURO is a very busy man. being a sport promoter is a hard-working job in terms of schedule — having to find various endearing sport events and sponsors who will agree to take part and finance these social event — which consumes a lot of time and humain energy.

and while tetsuro is grateful for the way you support and understand that his work takes a lot of him he still feels guilty for leaving you alone most of the time — especially now that you’re six months pregnant with his son.

over the last couple of weeks your husband and his coworkers started working on a very special sporting event, the ‘FIVB Beach Volleyball World Championships’, the double-gender world championship of beach volleyball. despite this championship being in a bit more than a year it is by far the most important worldwide volleyball event happening in the following year.

which is why testuro has been working harder during the last few days, his schedule being filled with meetings to discuss with a bunch of different sponsors — on who gets to sponsor what.

so when tetsuro finds himself having a ten minutes break between two meeting he immediatly turns on his phone, checking for any texts or missed calls from you — to which he does find a few texts.

wifey ♡ babe babyyy testsuro !! pls reply as soon as you can :(

tetsu •ᴗ• sweetheart is everything okay ? are you hurt ? fuck did you burn the house down ? wifey ♡ babyyyy yuh uh everything is fine !! and i only burnt homemade caramel once :( i just can’t write it over text… call me !!!

the raven-haired man stands up from his seat, excusing himself as he pushes the nearest door open with one hand, the fingers of his free hand swiftly tapping over his phone’s screen as he clicks on your contact id — dialing your number. he then places his phone over his ear, leaning his back against the wall behind him as he waits for you to pick up the phone.

as soon as tetsuro hears some shuffle from the other line of his phone he speaks up, not even letting you greet him properly. “sweetie, is there a problem ?” his tone is worried as he waits for your answer, hoping that everything is fine — that you’re alright.

“tetsu—” you start before letting out a laugh, which kinda helps your husband calm down for a bit. “i told you that everything is fine, you don’t have to worry”

on the other end of the phone you can’t help but smile at your husband’s worry for you, which doesn’t fail to make you remember how much he cares about — something that only increased as soon as the first symptoms of your pregnancy appeared. “what is it then ?” tetsuro’s booming voice immediatly brings you back to earth. “it’s just. . . i have a brilliant idea !” you joyfully tell him. the raven-haired man pauses at your exclamation, searching for any guesses of what that idea might be. . . until a grin appears on his face as he finally comes to realization. “is it another wild craving of yours, princess ?” he lets out a chuckle at your answer, laughing to himself as he hears you sigh from the other line of his phone. “my cravings aren’t weird !” you protest, the pout on your lips evident in your tone, which makes your husband’s grin even wider. “so, i’m craving nachos—” you say before the raven-haired man cuts your sentence mid-way. “oh, from which place do you want it babe ? i can get it delivered at home—”

“no ! i want sweet nachos.” you state, a huff leaving your lips.

your husband stands there, a dumbfounded expression written all over his face as he stares ahead of himself, his brain malfunctioning due to your words. any of his coworkers who would pass by would think that something is wrong with him, like he just heard one of the dumbest things on earth — which he kinda did. “sweet nachos— angel that’s not even a thing !”

“but it is a thing since i just invented it !" you exclaim, your voice full of confidence — as if you didn’t imagine the weirdest ‘dish’ in the whole word. "the base is made of chips — not any kind tho, only the original pringles — with a bunch of m&m’s, reese’s, chocolate syrup and whipped cream.” you say, taking the time to explain this whole snack of yours in details. "whipped cream as to be on top of the chips and in a small cup on the side, okay ?"

tetsuro licks his lips as he notes all of the needed ingredients in his minds, shrugging his shoulders before realizing that you can’t see him and speaking up. "yeah, sure. do i need to stop by the grocery store to get the ingredients or not ?" he asks, which you answer with a simple ‘yes’. He hangs up the phone a few seconds later — after kissing you goodbye through the phone of course — and steps back inside the building for his last meeting of the day.

when your husband finally exits his work building — by 8:45pm exactly — he walks to his car, a white Mercedes-Benz CLE 200 Cabriolet. he opens the front door for himself, dropping all of his papers on the passenger seat next to him. he turns on his car, pressing on a button — making the roof of the convertible disappear inside of the trunk.

after about twenty minutes — and a stop at the grocery store — tetsuro finally parks his car in front of your shared house. he steps out of the car, a brown paper bag in one hand and his stack of papers in the other, a sigh leaving his lips as he pushes onto the front door’s handle, entering your residence.

“i’m home, sweetheart !” your husband calls out to you, taking his shoes off and walking towards the living room.

he smiles as he sees you laying on the couch, your head propped on one of your arms as you watch ‘from up on poppy hill’. he chuckles softly at the sight in front of him, placing his papers on the coffee table and bending over to get a proper look at your face. you glance up at his face when you finally notice his presence. you immediatly lift you head off your arm, a smile making it’s way on your lips as you sit up on the couch, puckering your lips for the raven-haired man to kiss you, which he glady does.

“how was work, baby ?” you ask him, looking up at him while slightly tilting your head to the side. “there’s a some oyakodon and rice in the kitchen that you can heat up in the microwave and the pan.”

“god, princess, i’m gonna wife you up again. . .” tetsuro mutters, resting his forehead against yours before placing a tender kiss on your lips.

he breaks up the kiss and stands up, affectionately flickering your forehead before walking back to the kitchen, turning the lights on. tetsuro notices the bowl of rice on the counter and grabs it, placing it next to the pan. he tears a bit of paper towel with his fingers, damping it with some water before placing it over the bowl. he turns on the microvage, putting the rice to reheat. your husband smiles when he sees the oyakodon heating in the pan on low heat before turning it higher.

he sighs, rolling up the sleeves of his white shirt onto his biceps before turning to the paper bag with the groceries he did ealier. once all of your craving’s ingredients are — finally — placed in front of him, tetsuro can start preparing your snack.

he opens the tub of unflavored pringles before placing some chips onto a plate, some whipped cream on top along with chocolate syrup before scattering m&m’s and reese’s on top of everything. he grabs a small cup, pouring some whipped cream inside.

when the time alarm goes off your husband opens the microwage, carefully grabing the rice cowl — without burning himself — before taking the damp paper off the top of the bowl. He moves the pan off the heat, pouring the runny mixture on top of the white rice that he garnishes with green onion, sesame seeds and a bit of togarashi.

in a swift move tetsuro snatches a pair of chopsticks, placing them between his fingers before grabbing both his bowl and your plate, tuning the lights off before walking towards the living room.

“here you go, sweetheart.” he tells you, handing you your plate while you thank him, your bright smile making your eyes squint and your head tilt.

you slide off the couch, now sitting on the floor as you place a pillow under your ass and behind your back, putting your plate on the coffee table in front of you. tetsuro slips down on the floor next to you, slightly bending his upper-body above the table, gathering some of his food between his chopsticks and taking a bite out of it.

you squeal as you takes one of the chips between your fingers, shoving it inside of your mouth. you can’t help the sigh of contentement leaving your lips at the salty and sweet taste you’ve been craving all day. You take another one, doing a small dance of happiness.

“i gotta say, princess, your food taste was already strange, but now ?” tetsuro says, whistling, only for you to slap the back of his head, a huff leaving your lips as a pout tugs at your lips, only for it to be wiped away by your husband’s lips on yours, to which you gladly kiss him back.

#✎ — mai’s writes #my very first fic !!#٩( ᐛ )و #i hope it’s well written tho. . .#it’s supposed to be proofread as well !!#i’m shaking so bad (ó﹏ò｡)#kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader

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taizi · 21 hours

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okay just because we were talking about this - how do you think an asl reunion at alabasta would look like?

i hope its ok that i took this as an excuse to write an au no one asked for :')

read on ao3

A lot of the problems in Ace’s young life—most of them, if he was being honest—could be attributed to the shitty choices that adults around him made.

When Bluejam grabbed Luffy by the scruff, the business end of a pistol jammed painfully into the nape of his neck, he was talking a bunch of shit about how Sabo’s dad ripped him off. He was paid to kill Ace and Luffy but he’d been short-changed, and for a man who seemed to think he was entitled to a certain lot in life, it rankled.

“But that noble brat doesn’t make a bad ransom,” the man said, shaking a weepy Luffy in one meaty hand to shut him up, like Ace’s baby brother was nothing but a piece of dirty laundry. “If his family won’t buy him back, I’m sure someone will.”

Ace’s blood turned to ice in his veins. Whatever time Ace didn’t spend in the jungle he spent in the gutters and outskirts of the city, where every unwanted, street-sharpened child knew the risk a certain kind of stranger brought with them.

If Sabo ended up with a slaver, Ace would never get his brother back. Pieces of him, maybe. But not the same golden boy he was right now. Not the brave, proud, secretly soft-hearted person Ace loved so much. He’d come back different if he came back at all.

He had to compartmentalize. He couldn’t act rashly until he had Luffy back. His mind raced frantically, but he made sure it didn’t show on his face. He snatched Luffy up when Bluejam finally let him go and made his own body a wall between his brother and the men who had no compunctions about hurting him to prove a point.

They were left to spread gasoline throughout the terminal, while the pirates made their way back down to the beach. Not one of them lingered to make sure Ace and Luffy did as they were told, and Ace should have wondered about that. Should have wondered why they were making themselves scarce, why the city gates were barred, what all those fuel canisters are for, but his thoughts were too full of other things.

That was why, the second the coast was clear, he tossed his gasoline drum aside and seized Luffy by the arms. He stooped to look right into his eyes, trying to ignore the way his chest panged at how wide and red they were.

“I have to go get Sabo,” he said firmly. “You have to stay here.”

“Let me come!” Luffy cried immediately, predictably. “Don’t leave me behind!”

“It’ll be faster if you wait,” Ace snapped, because he didn’t want to say that Luffy was going nowhere near any ship bound for the slave market, because then he would have to explain why. Even without the Fruit that made him a special novelty in the Blues, Luffy would be snatched up by evil hands in a heartbeat. “You’re too little, you’ll just slow me down,” he said instead.

It wasn’t nice, and when Ace had time later, he would feel bad about the way Luffy’s lip trembled. But for now, it was important that he got his point across. Every second he lingered was another inch ahead Bluejam’s crew got. Ace’s world would literally end if their ship left port without him.

So he gave Luffy’s shoulders a push that propelled him back a step. Then he pointed in the direction of the treeline. He made his face mean and forbidding.

“I mean it, Luffy,” he said. “Go wait for me at home.”

Luffy finally tucked his chin in a miserable little nod. Ace gentled despite himself and reached out because there were two people he would always reach out for and one of them was right in front of him.

He flicked the brim of Luffy’s hat up enough that it fell off his head, and then ruffled his hair. A gesture so familiar and well-practiced it was like muscle memory to him now. Luffy didn’t smile, but it kept the tears at bay for a bit longer, and Ace left him with another firm point back at the jungle.

Ace was a child, doing his best to keep his tiny family together. He had a half-formed plan that he would sneak about Bluejam’s ship and find Sabo wherever he was and they would fight their way out and escape together and reunite with Luffy in time for a midnight dinner. He was a pragmatic youth, and was made wiser by the world than any ten-year-old should have been, but he was still only ten years old. He couldn’t have guessed what was going to happen.

He would piece it together later—that Bluejam had been commissioned by the kingdom to make sure the Gray Terminal burned down, a noble title he planned to come back to collect once he had auctioned off Outlook’s eldest son to the highest bidder—that Ace had chased after one brother and left the other alone in a place that was about to go up in flames.

When he climbed aboard the Blood Batako, he didn’t realize it would be the last time he saw Dawn Island for almost half a year.

He didn’t realize that Luffy would wait for him right there where Ace left him, even as the fire spread into walls of flames much taller than a scrawny seven year old—frightened and crying, little hands bunched in the front of his own shirt as he choked for each breath in the thick, acrid smoke. That Dadan would find him there and haul him away kicking weakly but not screaming, because there wasn’t enough oxygen left in his body to scream. That the asphyxiation, not the fire, is what nearly killed Luffy that night. That he would spend the next week in Foosha Village tended to by their only doctor and wake up with some of his memory intact, but not all. That he would recognize Makino, but wouldn’t know Dadan.

Ace had no way of knowing, when he and Sabo finally made their way home, well-traveled at the tender young age of freshly eleven, and relieved to see journey’s end for the time being, and looking forward to reuniting with a certain crybaby who had probably been miserable cooped up in Dadan’s country or at Party’s Bar without them, that Luffy will have been gone for months by then.

“A cruise ship docked further up the island,” Makino says fretfully, “and a little boy who worked in the kitchens came down here to play because he said he didn’t like the way the kingdom smelled. He and Luffy were fast friends. I had no idea Luffy was planning to leave with him until I found the note he left in his room, and by then they were long gone.”

It’s a good thing Sabo is there, because Ace’s head is just a roar of white noise. Sabo is the one who chokes out, “But—what—did—did you call Gramps? What did he say? Is he going to find him?”

“I don’t have his direct line. I’ve left a dozen messages with his office, but you know how he is,” Makino says, forgetting that they don’t, actually. “He hardly remembers that he has an office. And the number Dadan has for him is no good.”

“Why would Luffy wander off like that?” Sabo says, progressively getting louder. “Why wasn’t someone watching him?”

“He’s just been so restless since the fire,” Makino replies. “There wasn’t anything keeping him here anymore, and it seemed like he just needed one good excuse to leave.”

Sabo looks as gutted by that as Ace probably feels, hurt and confusion racing their way across his face. And Ace finally makes his contribution, in the form of a choked, “What do you mean?” which is when Makino realizes there’s something they still don’t know.

She sits them both down at a table and holds one of each of their hands in hers, and gently explains that while they were gone, the world as they knew it had changed forever, and the happy little boy who always ran to catch up to them wasn’t running after them anymore.

———

Ace still forms the Spades, and Sabo still falls in with the Revolutionary Army, and the only reason they don’t sail together the way they promised when they were young is because the ocean is awfully big. They have a lot of square footage to cover, and splitting up is the only way they could even hope to cover it all.

It doesn’t occur to either of them to give up at any point. As Sabo climbs ranks, as Ace gathers a crew, both their bounties increasing every day, they continue to search faithfully. Either they’ll find him one day, or they’ll simply spend the rest of their lives looking.

Masked Deuce says, “What about the cruise ship he left on? Did you track it down?”

“Boarded by pirates that same year,” Ace replies. “According to the official report, it sank in a storm.”

The loaded silence says everything Masked Deuce will not say. Ace doesn’t care what someone who has never met Luffy thinks about his odds of survival at sea. If Deuce knew Luffy, he would understand. Since he doesn’t, Ace’s first mate can believe his captain is delusional all he likes as long as it doesn’t keep him from doing his job.

Deuce turns out to be a better friend than Ace deserves. One day when Ace leaves his crew to party with some locals and sets off into town to distribute flyers and put his ear to the ground, he hears someone rumble something under their breath about a hopeless cause. He doesn’t even have time to turn around before Deuce has seemingly teleported across the bar and knocked the dissenter out cold.

“Anyone who shares his opinion is free to get their shit and leave,” he says calmly.

The only voices that rise up are ones who sound very offended that Deuce would lump them in with that guy, and Ace refuses to look as touched as he feels.

When he hears word of Red-Hair Shanks in nearby waters, he tracks the man down to a wintery island and leads his crew up a small mountain to meet him. In part, he wants to thank this man who saved his little brother all those years ago. But also…

“I heard about the fire,” Shanks said grimly. “And Makino kept me updated about little Anchor until he disappeared. I’ve got eyes out looking, too, Ace. The world is big, but not so big that we’ll never find him.”

It’s a relief to know that Luffy is so loved, that more than just his brothers care if he’s ever found. But in true Luffy fashion, he explodes onto the scene when he’s good and ready.

Ace is woken up by Deuce kicking the door of the captain’s quarters off its hinges and shoving a crinkled Wanted poster into Ace’s bleary face so that a toothy, stretching smile is the first thing he sees.

He accidentally sets half the room on fire, a slip-up the likes of which hasn’t happened since the first week after he ate his Fruit, and there’s a lot of screaming, and someone shoves a baby Den-Den at him so he can call Sabo. From the way his nakama were carrying on, you would think it was their long-lost brother in the paper.

“I was about to call,” Sabo says breathlessly in lieu of a hello after only barely half a ring. “You saw it?”

“I saw,” Ace replies. The newspaper is rattling noisily in his hands but he can’t get them to stop shaking. “He took down Arlong Park. There are all these witness statements from the villagers. They’re saying he did it all for his friend.”

“If anyone even thinks about coming for his bounty, I’m killing everyone on the Grand Line and then myself,” Sabo says. It takes knowing him as well as Ace knows him to be able to tell over the phone that he’s crying buckets.

“Get in line,” Ace says. If anyone so much as looks at Luffy wrong he’s burning this goddamn planet down. He can’t tear his eyes away from the poster for more than a few seconds at a time. At the urchin grin, the pencil-mark curve of a scar, this bright young man he’s never met who is so, so familiar.

“They’re calling him Straw Hat Luffy,” Deuce says. He’s a pillar of serenity in a sea of absolute chaos, leaning on Ace’s shoulder to read with him. There’s a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Now I’ll finally get to meet him.”

Which turns out to be easier said than done, because Luffy and his merry band of lunatics won’t seem to stay in one fucking spot for longer than an hour. It takes weeks to finally track that cute little caravel down to a summer island about halfway through the Grand Line, and by that time Sabo has taken a leave of absence from the Army to join him. They’re close now. They’re so close.

Wait for me, Ace would beg him if he could, wondering if this was how Luffy felt all those times his big brothers ran ahead and left him behind.

———

Ace never knew how heavy a heart could be when he was a child, a half-feral, angry, touch-starved thing. But now his heart is full—now it bursts at the seams, spills through his ribcage, until there’s no part of him that isn’t touched by it—and it’s the heaviest thing he’s ever carried.

A precious burden. He’s twice the man he would have been without it. He will never, not one time in his life ever, entertain the idea of putting it down.

But gods, Ace thinks, it would be easier, so much easier, to rip the stupid thing out of his chest and walk around a hollow shell of someone once-loved than it would be to stand here for one more minute and look down at his baby brother looking up at him like he’s a total stranger.

“Who’s this guy?” a blond man behind Luffy mutters. With the touseled hair hanging in an artful curtain over half his face and the cigarette between his teeth and the well-cut linen suit that makes it very clear he never skips leg day, blondie gives off an air of Do Not Fuck With Me just by breathing in a way that reminds Ace of Sabo at that age.

The swordsman beside him, called Roronoa Zoro on his bounty poster, is scowling outright, gray eyes sharp, ready at any moment to leap over Luffy like a faithful hound and dig into Ace with his teeth the second he presents as danger.

It makes Ace feel kind of nostalgic, like he’s looking at an old photo of himself.

He tries to focus on the nostalgic feeling, because all the rest of his brain is drowning in guilt and grief.

Somehow, he wasn’t prepared for this moment. Years of searching, nearly half his life, and he’s finally standing in front of the person whose absence tore a hole clean out of his whole future, and he has no idea what to say.

You look well, springs to mind, because Luffy does. His hair and skin and eyes are all different shades of brown that gleam with good health under the desert sun. He’s still skinny, but not in the waifish, underfed way of all the Gray Terminal kids. He looks like he’s been eating well. It settles something in Ace’s heart in the one tiny corner of it that isn’t breaking.

I should have been there, is the next-most immediate thought, and it almost takes Ace’s knees out from under him. He should have been there to make sure Luffy ate well. He should have been there to save him from the fire, to help him recover from the smoke sickness, to hold him when he cried in his sleep and to take his hand when he wandered aimlessly around the village with no one to play with and nothing to look forward to.

I’m sorry I left you, is what it boils down to, what Ace has held close and carved into his heart over the years, hating himself, hating the child he was who thought he knew better, who thought he could conquer everything without losing anything. I never should have left you.

But Luffy doesn’t know him from any other person in this busy marketplace, his head tilting to one side like a curious little bird’s, and Ace can’t think of anything to say to him that he’ll understand.

He needs Sabo. He’s about to become a walking fire hazard, and he’s about to mess this whole thing up, this reunion that was almost a decade in the making. Luffy’s two friends are eyeing him with mounting suspicion the longer he stands there and stares at their captain, every line of their body still the way a predator’s body stills in preparation for a pounce. Luffy, for his part, is still engaged, but only barely. His interest is slipping away—there are too many sights and smells and things bustling all around for him to want to stand still for a gawking stranger that doesn’t even have anything exciting to say.

His little brother. Crybaby Luffy. The boy who crawled under Ace’s blanket when their treehouse quaked in a storm, who held Sabo’s hand when they stayed out too late and walked home through the jungle in the dark. He’s a pirate now, a Wanted person, with a crew and a ship all his own, and he got this far without them. The last time Ace saw him was that last night in the Gray Terminal, when Ace was being mean on purpose to make sure Luffy stayed away from certain danger.

It occurs to Ace, for the very first time, that Luffy doesn't need him anymore. That tiny seven year old grew up.

“I saw you in the paper,” he finally says, making a concentrated effort to sound like a human being. “You’re pretty cool.”

Luffy brightens immediately. “Yeah? Are you a pirate, too?”

“I am. Made a promise to my brothers when I was a kid that we’d sail the seas together one day.”

“Wow!” Luffy says, suitably impressed. “We made a promise like that, too.” He loops both his arms through one of Blondie’s and one of Roronoa’s. “We decided way back when we were little that we were gonna stick together and become the pirate king, and the greatest swordsman, and the man who discovers All Blue!”

So one of his two guard dogs must be the little kitchen boy from The Orbit who spirited Luffy away from Foosha. The other must have come along not much later if they were all children together. Ace wants to hear the story so badly he has to clench his jaw to keep from asking. He wants to hear about everything.

Instead, ignoring the way Roronoa’s hand closes around the hilt of one of his swords, Ace reaches out and flicks the brim of Luffy’s hat so that it slips backwards off his head. Luffy squawks, and tries to free his arms in time to catch it, and then freezes in place at the touch to his hair.

Ace ruffles it fondly, muscle memory that hasn’t corroded even after a decade, and says what he should have said the first time that sunshine child in a worn straw hat shared a wild, impossible wish;

“I hope I’m there to see it when all those dreams of yours come true.”

If he had stayed a second longer, he would have seen the way Luffy mirrored Ace’s touch with his own fingers, frozen in place.

Instead, Ace has officially reached his emotional threshold, and formally retreats to find his twin. They take turns being the stable one and Ace is calling dibs on being a basket case for the next month. Masked Deuce is just going to have to deal.

Sabo got back to their meeting spot first, an outdoor table outside a tavern that hasn’t yet opened for the day, and already has their map rolled out and pinned down at the corners by various junk from their luggage. He’s marking something down and calls over a distracted hello, and Ace bleakly replies, “I found him.”

His tone is all wrong for the remarkably momentous occasion he’s announcing, so it’s not really Sabo’s fault that it doesn’t click right away. Sabo says, “Found who?” and Ace just looks at him with all his helplessness and weariness plain on his face, and Sabo drags an ink mark all across Sandy Island on the map as he whirls around and says, “You found him?”

“It’s not going to be how we thought,” Ace says, trying to manage his brother’s expectations. They share everything, but Ace would keep this heartbreak to himself if he knew how. “It’s—I think we took too long.”

“What do you mean?” Sabo asks, hands clenching into fists and unclenching. The fountain pen is dripping ink, ruining the fine leather of his left glove.

“He didn’t know me. I knew he wouldn’t, not really, but he—he didn’t recognize me at all,” Ace tries to explain. He feels stupid and childish and ungrateful, but really he just has no idea what to do. Luffy doesn’t know him and doesn’t need him and how is he supposed to fill a place in that kid’s life that doesn’t exist anymore? “We’ll have to—to start over from scratch, but how? How are we supposed to make someone like Luffy care about people like us? He’s sunshine personified, and deserves to have everything he wants and the best this shitty world has to offer, and we’re just—two selfish idiots who couldn’t even take care of one little kid between the two of us.” The awful truth, delivered quietly: “Luffy doesn’t need us anymore. I can’t see why he’d want us around now.”

Sabo is watching him like something carved from marble. Ace would never tell him, because it would hurt his feelings in a way nothing else ever could, but there are times when Sabo looks every bit the nobleman his biological family wanted him to be. The line of his jaw and the fall of his hair and his deep set eyes are regal, especially when he’s focused, when he’s working through a problem, when he’s the last sane voice in a room and he’s waiting for the morons wasting his time to run out of breath.

And then his eyes flicker past Ace’s shoulder, and his expression transforms. The breath leaves him in a rush like it was punched out of him, his lips parting, blue eyes widening in a way that seems to shave whole years from his face.

Something causes him, impossibly, incongruously, to smile.

“Would you put money on that?” he asks.

“What? Yes,” Ace says, thrown off by the inappropriate lightness of his tone. He feels himself start to bristle defensively. “Are you even paying attention?”

“One of us has to,” Sabo says, only smiling wider, and Ace feels sparks falling off his fingers in sheer aggravation as he turns around to see what is so—

He has three seconds at most to take in the sight of Luffy hurtling up the hill at top speed. It’s been years and years, but three seconds is all he needs. His arms remember how to reach out and catch him.

“I waited where you left me, but you never came back!” Luffy shouts. “You can’t be mad! I waited and waited, and then I went out to find you instead! I didn’t remember you but I had to find you! I still don’t—I still don’t know some things—but I know it’s your fault for taking too long!”

Sabo lurches over and Luffy’s rubbery hug wraps around them both and Ace is too shell-shocked by the last minute to do anything but hug back.

Luffy shoves his face in Ace’s shoulder, and there’s a hot, wet smear of tears there. It gives away that Straw Hat Luffy, the pirate captain worth thirty million berries, is maybe not as grown-up as Ace had initially feared.

Sabo presses his face against the crown of Luffy’s head, too overcome to do anything but hold him. The regal young man from moments ago is long gone. The one standing here with them is that street-rat from Dawn who knew the best places to steal food from, who always made sure they never went hungry, who once shrugged off his fine winter coat at the market and traded it to a vendor for a pair of sturdy boots for Ace and thick woolen mittens for Luffy. He had shivered all the way home, where there was an extra coat in the treehouse he could use, until Luffy had the bright idea that they should all bundle into Ace’s oversized cloak together for warmth and whined until Ace agreed just to shut him up. That had been the most annoying hike up Mount Colubo in history. It’s a memory that Ace cherishes beyond reason.

Ace whispers, “Of course I’m not mad, Lu.” It’s been ages since he was that hostile, hateful little thing who would take a bite out of anything that dared to show its soft underbelly to him. He presses as close as he can, cheek to cheek with this piece of his family that’s gone missing for far too long, and adds, “You’ve never been obedient a day in your life. If I expected anything different, that’s on me.”

Luffy laughs, and it’s snotty and choked and pure music to Ace’s ears. The kid worms closer, makes himself smaller, and lets himself be held.

He doesn’t need his brothers. His shoulders are broad, and his arms are solid and strong. He’s already made a name for himself, and even now those two friends of his are lingering watchfully further down the road—far enough away to give the respectful illusion of privacy, near enough to make Ace and Sabo’s day a living hell if they try anything fishy. It’s probably been a long time since he’s needed someone to hold his hand or carry him home.

But if, by some insane, undeserved miracle, Luffy still wants them…

It’s enough. It’s more than enough. It’s more than Ace has had in ten years.

What one piece? he thinks, arms full and aching. I’ve got it all right here.

#one piece #op #opfic #asl bros #portgas d ace #revolutionary sabo #monkey d luffy #my writing #prompt #wizardmafianinjapirate

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penelopepine · 1 day

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Forever In Your Gaze

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Fem Reader

Part 1

Summary: Night at the museum AU. Gaz and Reader are both paintings directly across from one another, and have been in love for many years now. The only thing is that they are unable to actually leave the confines of their canvas, and have never felt others touch.

I wrote a blurb about this already here!

Word Count: 2,050

Content: Established relationship, fluff, light angst

"This class is the painting of the Duke of Hersling, Kyle Garrick, though he was often referred to as Gaz to his close friends." The teacher says while pointing at a large, full body painting of man dressed in his finest. The most striking things about the painting is the sword on his hip, and the intense straight forward stare. "He was a swordsman and a scholar during his life."

"How did he die?" One of the boys in the back of the group yells out.

The teacher smiles at hearing a question and says, "He actually died in battle; this painting was done only months before his death in 1545. Any more questions?" Hearing none, the teacher directs them to the painting directly opposite of the Duke. "This painting here was actually done in 1545 by William Bahr. A very prestigious portrait painter in his time.”

The painting showed a woman sitting in a field of flowers with a bright smile. The sun is shining bright behind her while she looks lovingly straight ahead. Upon looking at both paintings it is clear that they are at eye level with one another; staring into each other's eyes.

A girl this time raises her hand, and once receiving a nod from the teacher she asks, “What about the woman in the painting? Who is she?”

“She is an unknown figure, the painting was never picked up by its buyer, and no documents containing that information were ever found. She is assumed to be the daughter of a nobleman though.”

"Do you think she and the duke knew each other?" Another girl asks, looking between the two paintings, "I think they'd make a cute couple!"

The rest of the students laugh at those words, and once they’ve calmed down the teacher says, “It’s funny that you actually say that! When I worked here during college my coworkers and I would always refer to these two as the forever gazing lovers.”

“Mr. Sanderson, I didn’t know you used to work here,” a student exclaims, “I couldn’t imagine working at a museum. Wasn’t that boring; staring at the same stuff everyday?”

“You’d be surprised how wild a museum can get,” He gives a light chuckle to himself, and looks up nostalgically at the art around him. “My favorite part was working as a night guard. It turns into a whole different world here, but enough about that let’s continue to the next room.”

It was later in the evening when everybody was in the lobby getting ready to board the bus did the teacher see his old mentor and friend walk through the doors.

“John Price!” He proclaims with an extended hand out.

“Gary Sanderson!” John calls back, and shakes his offered hand. “It’s good to see you here again, lad.”

“It feels as if I never left, sir. How is everyone around here doing?”

Price looks at him knowingly, “Everyone’s been good, they miss you, but they’ve been good. You’ll have to come and visit sometime.”

“I will, promise.” Gary looks to where his students are just as the bus pulls up before whispering, “tell everyone I miss them as well. I’ll call later and plan a visit with you later.”

“You better keep your word with that. Ghost and Soap will go and hunt you down if you don’t.”

Gary gives him a laugh and one last nod before rushing back to his class, and leading them outside to the bus.

With that Price turns and continues further into the museum. Telling folks that they will be closing in just a bit, and getting everything ready for the night to begin.

It’s only half an hour later when Price is locking the door. He knows things are going to be very active in here in just a couple hours so he takes this time to get some of his actual work done. He sits in the lobby behind the reception desk until the sun has fully gone down, and the moon is high in the sky.

He knows that the magic is about to begin when the moonlight that shines through the doors starts to have a more unnatural silver glow to it. Price watches as the silver moon rays slowly morph into a ball. In a matter of seconds the glowing sphere has finished growing in size, and suddenly it darts forward. Leaving Price where he was sitting as it flies past him, and travels down all the halls inside the museum.

As it passes a piece of art it’s clear that the art then, as if waking up from sleep, slowly comes to life. It quickly passes the gazing lovers' paintings; arising them from their slumber.

When Kyle awakens for another night the first thing he sees is you; which is exactly how he wants to start every night for the rest of time. Life was perfect for him with you, and the only thing he wished for now was to someday feel your touch; even if it was only once. "How is it that everytime I wake up and see that you just appear more and more perfect?”

“You don’t look so bad yourself, handsome.” You giggle at his flirtatious words. He always makes sure to say words of endearment to you first thing upon waking up.

“Well I would hope so! Otherwise what are these museum workers doing besides making sure my varnish is still in prime condition?”

“Probably keeping the rest of the building from falling apart!”

"I think Price is the one that does that." Kyle argues with mischief clear as day on his face.

"I'm gonna tell Laswell next time we see her that you said that." You say with a small chuckle before bringing your hand up to the invisible border keeping you inside the frame.

Kyle watches as you bring your hand up, and does the same with his. This is the closest the two of you have come to holding hands with one another. Conversations from this point continue as normal for the two of you. Talking about whatever comes to your mind with one another.

Occasionally talking with the other paintings around the room, or anyone that passes by. Farah, a statue of a queen who led her kingdom to victory in battle, and Alex, a wax figure of an American WW2 pilot, make sure to stop by and say hello. The two of them always stay for a few hours talking with you both before continuing on their way.

It was only a few minutes after they left when Price walked into the room, a grim expression, coming to stand between the two of them.

“Price, everything alright?” Kyle asks with a worry in his voice.

"I'm afraid I've got some bad news for the two of you." Price runs a hand through his beard; he's clearly trying to already come up with a plan for whatever is wrong, "This area is getting a complete makeover tomorrow. You two would be very lucky to even be around each other come tomorrow night."

Kyle immediately looks to you after hearing those words; he couldn't imagine being away from you. He's been facing you for years now, and Kyle is not in any way ready for that to change. "How do we fix this then?" He asks, directing his question towards Price.

“I’m going to talk to Laswell tomorrow, but it’s Shepherd who is changing things around.”

“Fucking Shepherd.” Kyle cursed the man to himself. That man was always making decisions about the museum that seemed to bring nothing but pain for everyone here.

It was you who asked the next question, “Will she be able to go around him, and keep us together?"

"That's the goal. Shepherd isn't around very often, and even when he is he doesn't bother walking around the area. We'll try and switch a couple things around tomorrow night." Price huffed; he clearly didn't like what Shepherd was doing either. He was most likely going to be hearing a lot of complaints from the others in the area as well. "I've got others that I still need to inform, but trust me when I say you two will remain together."

With that Price continues on his way leaving Kyle and you to dwell on the information he just told.

"Kyle I'm scared; what if they can't do anything, and we end up getting split up?"

"I'll find you, love." Kyle is very serious as he says this to you, "This will not keep me from you. That I can promise."

Kyle and you continue to discuss what this will mean for you both, and possible solutions to stay together. When the time comes to go to sleep again he finds a small amount of comfort looking into your eyes. For in your eyes that is where he finds peace. Kyle's last thoughts before the sun comes up is that he loves you.

When Kyle finally realizes that he is awake once again it takes only a moment for him to know that it is not you that he sees. Instead he is in front of a painting of an older man with a dark background around him.

Despite knowing that this would be his reality Kyle is still hit with the panic of not seeing you. He is quick to look around hoping that at the very least that you wouldn't be far, and could still talk to you right now.

He bangs on the barrier, and calls out your name when he doesn't see you. Every time his fist hits the barrier a magical sheen ripples around where he made contact. Kyle does this for several moments even asking the others around him if they can see you.

Before he can continue once more yelling for you Soap appears seemingly out of nowhere in front of him. Following closing behind him is both Price and Ghost as well. Soap and Ghost are both bronze statues, who once the sun is up are two soldiers fighting one another in one of the Anglo-Scottish wars. It took Price a lot of effort to eventually get them on civil terms with one another.

Which is why it’s almost surprising looking at where their relationship is now.

“Gaz!” Soap’s voice calls out. His friend brings his hand up to the canvas, placing his hand where his shoulder would be if they could touch. “Mate, you’ve got to calm down.”

“Where is she? She was meant to still be in the area; she’s gone!”

Price readily steps forward next to Soap, “She’s most likely been moved downstairs to storage. We’ll go and find out where she is, and carry her up once we do.”

Those words brought so much relief to him, but at the same time this situation was meant to be very different. “Why is she not here though? What did Laswell say about all this?”

“Shepherd refused to let Laswell know anything that was happening. She’s trying to figure out what all he has planned, but some things may not be so easy to undo. All we can really do right now is wait.” Price calmly replies back to him.

It’s Ghost who actually says the most comforting thing to him though, “Your girl has been moved, Gaz. She has not gone though you’ll see each other again, at most, in a few hours.”

The three give him a few more words of comfort before rushing out to find you.

This time away from you has really made Kyle think about the first time he met you. It was just another night for him. He knew from Laswell that a new painting was going to be added, and would be placed opposite of him. Nothing could have prepared him for you though.

The first time he woke up to see you had truly taken his breath away. You were the most beautiful person he had ever seen, and once he had started talking to you his heart had been yours.

With that in mind Kyle starts to push against the invisible barrier holding him inside the frame. He thinks of you as he pushes and pushes and pushes. Until suddenly, like a rubber band snapping, he's out.

Taglist: @zarsghost

Note: I finally wrote it!!! I hope you enjoyed reading this; feel free to let me know your thoughts!

#kyle gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick #x reader #fem reader #call of duty #task force 141 #john soap mactavish #john price #simon ghost riley #Night at the museum AU #female reader #gary roach sanderson

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minkdelovely · 1 day

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velocity

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Alastor x Lucifer ; RadioApple

tags/warnings: pining, fluff because where is it? i can’t find it, might be ooc but also i don’t care? let my boy miss his man a lot little? 🤭, not explicit but as a general rule MDNI 18+

word count: 1k

author’s note: a gift to @hazelfoureyes & @sugoi-writes but no one could be more surprised about this than me lol i was just absolutely overcome with need and… here we are? 🥲✨ chapter ten: part two is on its way, promise. this was very much a ‘struck by lightning’ moment — rare and cherished. i hope you enjoy and that this aids in the waiting 🙏🏻

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Slow.

That’s how it starts. So slow it doesn’t feel any different than the usual day-to-day.

Routine.

Safety in boundaries. Both sets and manages expectations. It’s slow here, too. Concealing itself as a begrudging task one could get out of. But doesn’t.

Consistency.

Knowing what to expect. This, unlike the others, is not slow. Though quick to some, it appears to all in its own time, and it’s not alone.

Familiarity.

Blurs the line. A line that was never quite solid from the start. This is slow. And noticeable.

Nerves.

Unpredictable. Some days it’s not too bad. Follow Routine, where it’s safe. Other days, the blur looms overhead. Brings discomfort. An itch under the skin that can only be relieved by another’s hand.

Touch.

Tests boundaries. Starts slow. A light hand to the shoulder. Grabbing of a wrist during a laugh. Longer eye contact. A different heat behind the taunts. The kindling of a new flame. There is no going back.

Desire.

Burns. This feels fast, due to the false sense of security brought on by Slow. There from the start, biding its time. Waiting to be found. Always with the intent to consume.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

It’s here that Alastor finds himself, fidgeting with a pen at his desk. Head in hand, mind wandering, and eyes glossed as he stares through the windows of his tower; the Hellscape he called home beyond the pane might as well have been covered in fog. What he was looking for was far beyond the city.

Would he be back today?

A question the demon found himself wondering often. Followed quickly with a correlating, hopeful squeeze in the chest. An ache that wouldn’t bother him as much as it did if it could be satiated by his own means.

Lucifer been gone for a couple weeks now. The halls of the hotel feeling barren in his absence. Hollow without his voice.

The angel had to leave the Pride Ring to perform his annual duties and make his rounds through the other circles of Hell. Places Alastor did not have the ability to venture to, being a sinner.

Agony.

This was new, and by far the worst development. It was slow, like many of the others, but seeped into the passage of time thick as syrup. Making it heavy. Seconds passing as if carrying the weight of the world. Because they were.

Missing someone was not something Alastor was accustomed to. Not suited for, even. He didn’t have the patience for it. The stamina. Roaming the halls kept his feet busy, but not much else. How many laps could he make through the hotel before an hour passed? It was a goalpost that kept moving as his anticipation turned to restlessness.

What purpose was there in having twenty-four hours in a day in the afterlife when time was a mortal construct? Did they count the hours in Heaven as well? Or was this a punishment tailored for the damned? It was positively infuriating, and Alastor planned to have a word with his king about it upon his return.

Even if just to lament the fact that time passing in solitude had never bothered him before. When Lucifer informed him of this upcoming trip, the Overlord hadn’t given it a second thought. If anything, he recalled quipping back about finally getting some breathing room.

His majesty was a generously affectionate creature in private. Alastor only pretended to be burdened by it. His flippant, exasperated demeanor being thrown in his face with spite as he now suffered the nights alone in bed. The evening chill maliciously soaking into the left side of his body without the barrier of Lucifer’s embrace.

Comfort.

Alastor was shocked to find himself craving it with a force akin to withdrawal. This was something he had been sufficiently providing on his own for much longer than he had ever received it from others. Subjected now to use Lucifer’s pillow to fill the vacancy of his arms. It was a poor substitute. The scent not strong enough, the weight too light. No breath. No heat. No reciprocating cling.

The pen in Alastor’s hand broke with a snap. Ink shining against the leather of his black gloves as it seeped in. Alastor couldn’t bring himself to do anything other than watch it settle in and dry. A stain that couldn’t be seen, but marred its host all the same. Fitting.

Why hadn’t he asked how long this would take? In his need to seem unfazed, he had trapped himself here in the liminal space of waiting with no end in sight. The relief of this misery known only to one of them. Without so much as a phone call for courtesy.

Does he miss me?

A lump formed in Alastor’s throat at the thought, a perturbed growl following close behind. Hand empty and paper blank, his anxiety settled in his chest. Heartbeat in his ears and pulsing against his ribs as he trudged back to their bedroom that might as well have been the gallows.

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In the late hours of the evening there’s movement in the room. Air punctured with the melody of soft, even breath joined by the shedding of clothes and boots falling to the floor with abandon. Bed dipping under the familiar body crawling in, the rustling of sheets as limbs entangle without conscious thought.

Close.

Solace, but not enough. Too much to make up for to be resolved with just an eagerly anticipated embrace.

Longing and adoration are pressed into skin through hungry kisses. Starting on the shoulder and chest before moving up the neck, the jaw, the face. A furrowed brow as consciousness returns to the slumbering demon, senses blooming with recognition at his angel’s long-awaited presence.

A proper kiss now as Alastor’s arms guide Lucifer to lay atop of him. Relieved moans and heavy sighs fill the small spaces between them as hands wander and knead and cling. Time finally on their side as they exchange saccharine apologies and heartsick complaints between the touch of fingers and lips. Basking in the sanctuary that can only be found here.

Slow.

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tag list: @fairyv-ice, @wat4r, @midorichoco, @raynerrold, @krak-jj, @tremendoushearttaco, @redfoxwritesstuff, @chibistar45, @kaylopolis, @cutiebimbo, @lousypotatoes, @rfox1998, @cosmiccandydreamer, @stardustandbrimstone, @cherry-cola-100, @wonderlandangelsposts, @catticora, @velvette3, @sailorsmouth, @reath-solia, @junieshohoho, @cxrsedwxrlds

**tag list darlings, if you only want to be tagged on alastor x reader in the future please let me know — my poll didn’t show me who chose what 🥺🙏🏻✨**

#radioapple #radioapple fluff #<- that tag right there? didn’t even TRY to come up as suggested #radioapple fan fiction #hazbin hotel fan fiction

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wordsvomit101 · 2 days

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Reverse AU: What if... 'You' are his favorite fictional character.

Summary: In their mundane human lives, filled with ups and downs, there’s one constant: you. As a beloved character from the pages of fiction, they find themselves irresistibly drawn to you. Though you exist by someone else imaginations, your presence brings a daily dose of joy and inspiration. Now, imagine their sheer amazement when they stumble upon you in the real world, a living, breathing embodiment of their cherished fictional hero.

Warning: A small bit of yandere, not too much. A lot of how they were as human are my hcs. I have a lot of fun putting them in different scenarios as you can tell.

Satan

In his youth, Satan was a notorious troublemaker, causing endless headaches for adults while earning the admiration of his peers. As the leader of a biker gang and winner of many martial arts competitions, he was the coolest guy around—both in school and in his neighborhood. Even his rivals admitted it. His rebellious nature led to frequent clashes with authorities, stemming from countless property damage incidents, noise complaints, and weekly brawls—many of which he instigated. Despite the chaos, Satan was well-liked and respected. His unwavering commitment to his word and reputation as a tough but honorable man inspired loyalty wherever he went, making people feel they could rely on him no matter the circumstances. These traits even managed to draw in the uptight Sitri from another neighborhood, who became his right-hand man and later his manager when Satan turned professional racer.

As a child, Satan was a huge fan of action and sports movies and TV series. Speeding through the streets on his motorbike made him feel alive, and he sought out any media that thrilled him and distracted him from his depression and insomnia. When he wasn't smoking or drinking himself to sleep, his gang members or Sitri would take him back to his empty home. His parents had long given up trying to discipline him and make him follow their path as upstanding citizens—wealthy socialites—in the upper echelon of society. So they left him the house, some workers to clean and cook, and helped with the bills. Aside from that, he was on his own. These movies and TV series made him feel less alone when he didn't have company over. One of his favorites was about a secret military project that endangers a post-dystopian country by turning a biker gang member into a rampaging psychic psychopath, who can only be stopped by a teenager, his gang, and a group of psychics.

Satan both loved and hated this movie. Beyond the action and the dream of owning the red motorcycle featured in the film, he adored a side character who was a close friend of the main character. He was enraged when they died sacrificing themselves for the protagonist. Back then, he deluded himself into believing that he could save that friend if he were the main character. When he confided this to Sitri or Mammon, they only patted him on the back and looked at him with sadness or amusement. He punched and kicked them both. Satan continues to watch the movie throughout his life, despite the gore and violence. Whenever the side character is on the screen, they calm him, and their soothing words lull him to sleep every time.

As an adult, successful and owning his dream red motorcycle, Satan became a respected racer and moved far away from that empty house, carrying only the good memories with him. His love for the movie, especially the side character, remained strong. When he heard about a sequel to the original, he abandoned his photoshoot schedule, leaving an angry Sitri behind, and raced to be the first in line for a ticket. The movie, set in an alternate scenario where his beloved character is still alive, elated him. Whenever they appeared, he grinned with pure joy, his eyes full of love, causing those beside him to be flustered by his radiance. He mentally thanked every animator who brought the character to life and wished he could capture every moment they were on screen with his phone.

Imagine his surprise when, after winning a prestigious motorcycle racing event, he heads to the hotel bar and catches a glimpse of you through the windows—real and breathing the same air as him—walking out of the hotel with your luggage. Heart pounding, Satan races down to the ground floor, but by the time he arrives, you’ve already vanished, leaving him in a mix of anger and disappointment. Yet, there’s no doubt in his mind. He knows it was you, your distinctive look and walk burned into his memory for years. From that day forward, he leverages every connection at his disposal to track you down, enduring months of fruitless searching until Lady Luck finally smiles upon him.

When he sees you talking to the receptionist at his usual gym, he can't contain himself and tackles you into a crushing hug. He savors every micro-expression you make—the way your breath grazes his face, how lovely your voice sounds when you yelp in shock, and how you grip his shoulders, trying to push him away. You are real. This realization sends a shiver down his spine, and his elated grin remains even when you slap him for hugging you out of nowhere. The sting on his cheek feels incredible, and he almost wants you to continue, but he lets you go. Despite his intense desire to carry you off and shower you with kisses, he knows he has to be patient. He has all the time in the world to get to know you better.

Sitri

As the sole legacy of his grandmother, Sitri carries the weight of her expectations when she sends him to the city for a better education, arranging for him to live with a close acquaintance. It was the first time he took the train too. Determined not to worry her, he strives to be responsible: studying diligently, maintaining his health, avoiding trouble, making friends, and being respectful to others. His life is simple yet challenging, easy yet demanding—truly mundane. The bright spots were learning about various teas and the art of tea making from his grandmother, engaging with his fascinating neighbors next door in their apartment complex, and playing drums in his school band with Juno, Belial, and Jiyu.

Until Satan discovered him during a school festival performance and promptly recruited him into the gang, Sitri was used to leading a relatively quiet life, though not anymore after that fateful day. The constant headaches from the trouble he had to resolve for his new gang members and the concern from his grandmother and his boss seemed enough to turn his hair white from stress. Yet, this chaos brought color and excitement to his life, much like discovering new flavors of tea that thrilled his senses. Satan gave him a place where he felt he belonged, new people to care for, and a friend he promised to follow for the rest of his life.

Sitri never met his parents, and his grandmother didn't like talking about them, so he refrained from asking. Sometimes, he forgot they existed unless someone mentioned them. If asked whether he missed them, he would say he didn't; it was impossible to miss people he never knew. However, he did feel a deep connection to a character whom he has always yearned to have in his life from an old drama—which became a significant part of his childhood and adulthood—about a spy agency retrieving a stolen martial arts manual, leading to epic battles and encounters. The protagonist, along with his friends, ultimately defeats the villains and chooses to roam the martial arts world.

Growing up in a retirement community, he was surrounded by elderly folks who treated him like their own grandson, so he rarely felt lonely despite not having peers his age. However, before meeting his friends and Satan, he always wondered what it would be like to have a friend his age to share adventures with. The main character’s friendship with a beloved side character, who taught valuable lessons and provided unwavering support, made him especially envious. When that character left the story, Sitri was deeply heartbroken and sulked for days until his grandmother gifted him a mug with the character's silhouette carved on it by an old uncle at her request. That mug became his favorite for drinking tea, a treasured item that no one else, not even Satan, was allowed to use.

Despite his affection for Satan as a leader and a friend, managing Satan's temper and tendency to get into trouble was no easy task. This challenge was compounded by the constant bombardment of calls and texts from their former biker gang members—most of which were thoughtful inquiries about their well-being, but after an hour of chatting, his phone would become hot from the incessant vibrations. What kept Sitri's sanity intact were the generous paychecks he received for handling PR nightmares and the quiet nights he spent with tea and snacks, re-watching his favorite childhood drama just to see his beloved character's face on the screen. One evening, seeking relief from the headache induced by Satan's latest chaos, Sitri went to a bar. While massaging his forehead and groaning after a phone call with an agent, he heard a clink next to him.

Looking up, he nearly choked from the shock. There you were, sitting next to him with a friendly but concerned expression, offering him a warm cup of black tea. You looked exactly like his favorite character, even your mannerisms were identical. His heart pounded harder as he noticed the simple gestures you made that were the same habits you have in the drama. When you tilted your head gently in confusion at his silence, blood rushed to his face and south. Quickly, before you could leave, he grabbed your hands and, with fervent eyes and equally sweaty hands, gasped out a question for your name, struggling to breathe from the excitement and disbelief. Everything doesn't feel real but his entire body screams for him to never let go of your hands.

Juno P. Cruel 666 Orgasm

Juno had always been hailed as the best in his clan: the most handsome, the strongest, the smartest, the most talented. It was obvious that the clan elders had a favorite among the children, and it quickly became irritating to hear them constantly brag about him as if they had birthed him themselves. They would say he would never disappoint them, that he would honor the clan by joining politics or taking over the family's massive military manufacturing business. Juno hated it. He wished that some of his relatives would hate him enough to challenge his position. What baffled him even more was how his cousins could respect and look up to him despite the unfair comparisons. He liked them and wanted them to succeed, but he wished they would show some dissatisfaction with the situation.

Juno had always admired Satan's powerful aura and leadership. Joining his gang was an act of defiance, but the elders dismissed it as a childish tantrum, saying he would get his act together eventually. Juno felt ridiculous for harboring anger when he was the privileged one, handed everything on a golden platter without effort. From home to school, it was the same. There was even a sizable fan club dedicated to him since middle school, which grew when he became a guitarist in a band. While they rarely bothered him, it was embarrassing when their actions affected bystanders. He never knew how to explain to his friends why he had to apologize for his fan club's behavior. Despite this, he couldn't dislike them; many were good people if you ignored their fixation on him. The club leader even introduced him to his long-time obsession: a novel about an idol group that debuted from an idol survival show. The group had been involved in many controversies since its debut and lost more than half its initial members. However, with the help of their new manager and staff, they turned their situation around and fought their way to the top of the industry.

The novel was compelling, showcasing the intricate sides of the idol world with a great cast of characters and dynamics. Juno's favorite character is the manager who helps the struggling group, sticking by them through thick and thin and giving them a chance to succeed in a harsh environment. He read the novel dozens of times, never getting the urge to throw it away, even when it became worn from being hastily packed into his bag. At some point, he ran away from home with only his clothes, personal items, and the novel when it was announced he would officially be the next head of the business. He drove his motorcycle aimlessly until it carried him to his closest friend's house. Zagan found him sitting outside his family antique store, finally calming down from the adrenaline rush.

Zagan and his grandfather offered to house Juno temporarily until he graduated and found his own place. Juno was grateful and content to stay with Zagan's family, helping around until a new idol project aired on a broadcasting channel. This reminded him of the novel the feeling that it was his calling urging him every day until it led him to audition for the show. He had never experienced anything more intense. Compared to other trainees, he was like a fish out of water. His core beliefs and confidence were shattered countless times by online haters, behind-the-scenes producers, instructors evaluating the trainees' skills, or his endlessly talented peers, some even four years younger than him. It was hard, even with support from his fans, but the situation only made him cling to the novel like a lifeline. He devoured every letter to ground himself, gripping the manager's advice as if he were there with them, following their lead to survive through sleepless nights.

Juno succeeded in the end. His stage name, Ppyong, reached the top spot, and he became the face of the group due to his large popularity and underdog story. Many broadcasting shows wanted to invite him and the group, his gag jokes became viral hits, and the group's songs became international sensations. They faced many baseless controversies from antis, and smear campaigns from his clan, or by the elders and his parents. As well as terrible management teams, and an old-fashioned PR team, but they pushed through. Juno almost built a shrine for the novel since he sometimes relying on the manager's advice and knowledge to navigate group meetings and problems. He was always jealous of how the idol group in the story had the manager with them, and the bitter feeling only intensified each time he reread the story. Even his teammates joked about his obsession in interviews.

He could only cry when he saw you sitting across from him during a fan meeting, gifting him a small box of his favorite snack, Ferrero Rocher. Through his tears and snot, he noticed your surprise and fussing over him in the soft, sweet tone he had dreamed of hearing for years. He wanted to reach out, to take your hands and feel their warmth, but with the eyes watching and the risk of jealous fans targeting you, he restrained himself. He gave a half lie, put on his usual cheery attitude, and sneakily wrote down his number and a meeting location on the exclusive merch you gave him to sign. He drank in your beautiful, blushing face as he winked at you when you noticed.

#what in hell is bad #whb #whb ppyong #whb juno #whb sitri #whb reverse au

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 2 days

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pleeeeaaaasee do more shane x reader (preferably gender neutral). Your writing is so good and the "After everything we've been through, you still don't think that I love you?" one broke me. You're a hurt/comfort master

HAH you've given me another idea from this ask alone (insp by my farmer getting alex's 8 heart event while married to shane)

Sorry gang I swear fluffier stuff with Shane is coming

.....

It was just a few days into summer, and Shane already had plans to change up his usual routine once again.

Ever since moving onto your farmland, he found himself getting more motivated to take longer walks. This morning, he planned on doing so after ensuring the crops were watered and the animals were well-fed.

He greeted the cows, rabbit, pigs, and chickens as they filed out of the coop and barn one-by-one, not letting any of them miss their daily pets. Seeing the ostrich and little green dinosaur emerge didn't faze him as much as it did the first time he saw them--he still had no clue how you acquired their eggs (especially one from the skull caverns), but you didn't treat them any differently.

They were both lovable creatures. Just like the blue chickens he introduced you to several months ago.

Knowing you raised some and kept them on the farm made him beam with pride, glad he got to stay here and help run things in your steed.

He wouldn't trade it for the world.

You set off for the beach earlier than usual today, having left a note on the table, and Shane opted to just hang back and repair some of the fences that were looking a bit worn out.

According to the TV, it was a "good luck day", and you hoped to find fortune in the form of a rainbow shell washed up on the coast. You certainly loved foraging them, but even if there weren't any around, you figured you'd go fishing.

Your husband wasn't the best at either skill, although a few hours after you left, he felt a little bored and decided to go visit the beach. Maybe you could use his moral support since other people--mainly Willy and Elliot-mentioned hearing you curse like a sailor when you were wrestling with a fish...or when said fish escaped your line.

He could be there to cheer you up, or teasingly bet on how many joja cola cans you'll fish out of the ocean.

That would be pretty funny, he thought.

So he headed off on his usual walking route, but instead of going to Cindersap Forest or stopping by Pelican Town's river, he ventured towards the beach, greeting whoever said "hello" to him.

Upon arrival, however, Shane stopped in his tracks as he noticed you weren't entirely alone on the beach.

It wasn't Willy, Elliot, Leah, nor that parrot kid you rescued from Ginger Island, but Alex.

He wouldn't have minded that so much....if not for the fact that you two were sitting awfully close together on the coast, overlooking the foamy waves. You were totally oblivious to his presence, so he hung back with suspicion.

Of course, he knew you were growing more sociable with the rest of the villagers, and he didn't want your marriage to be the reason you stopped talking to people.

Even so..something didn't feel right about this, especially as he watched you move closer to Alex, putting an arm around him. And when the younger male put his head on your shoulder, Shane's heart dropped.

You were talking, but obviously he couldn't make out what you were saying thanks to the noisy waves and annoying seagulls.

At this point, however, it became clear what was going on.

And it made him feel utterly sick to his stomach, his mind constantly circling back to one conclusion. Only one explanation as to why you'd ever be that close to Alex, and perhaps why you've been frequently leaving the farm earlier than normal:

You were seeing him behind his back, thinking he'd never find out.

He didn't know how else to interpret that. How else could he?

But of everybody in this town, why did it have to be the guy who reminded him of his youthful days in gridball?

The guy who radiated positivity and was always in high spirits?

The guy who wasn't old and weak and depressed...like him?

'I knew it..they finally got bored of me. But why would they do this?' Scowling, he felt like storming over and saying something, but he couldn't will himself to freak out here and now.

No.

Why bother?

Instead he decided to turn on his heel and storm back to the farm, nearly tripping over a rainbow shell as he did so. The saloon was closed, so he couldn't escape there...but he'll settle for rotting in bed until you come home.

You'll be back, and he'll confront you then.

.......

Coming back to the farmland around noon, you frowned a bit as you didn't see Shane anywhere outside. He wasn't at the mini coop like he normally was, and poor Charlie was looking for him.

"Where did he go, Charles? Hm?" With a soft coo, you kneeled down to pet the chicken. She clucked, her beak pointing towards the cabin, and you thanked her with a small handful of corn before continuing inside.

However, as soon as you stepped into a rather quiet house, all the excitement sapped out of you. You'd normally hear him playing video games or watching a Tunneler's game, but as you entered your shared bedroom...you found him just laying down, his back turned to you.

"Hey, honey." You sighed, relieved as you sat down on the mattress. "All that farmwork got tiring, huh? I understand. Thank you for doing it."

"........."

"..Shane? You still asleep?"

There was a long silence, only for it to be broken by a quiet sniffle, and your heart sunk, wondering what happened. "Hey, what's wrong-?"

As you put a hand on his shoulder, Shane flinched and rolled over to face you, his eyes red and watery, and his expression full of disgust...as though you did something wrong.

You've never seen him get this angry at you. Not since your first meeting with him. "Baby-?"

"No. Enough petnames, [y/n]." He huffed, sitting up and staring at you with contempt. "You don't get to act like everything's fine. Like I don't know what's really going on."

"...what?"

"Why were you with Alex today? Did he convince you I wasn't good enough for you anymore? That I'm past my prime?"

You blinked in bewilderment, wondering how on earth he knew that and why he was getting so upset. "Wha..you were at the beach? Why didn't you tell me?"

"That's..not important." He grumbled. "If you love him more, fine. Just tell me. I was ready for the day you'd finally get sick of me. But..to do that behind my back...I just..." Fresh tears brimmed his eyes as he clutched the mermaid pendant with a shaky hand. "I thought you were different..but I was wrong."

Now you were totally lost, heart racing as you tried to wrack your brain for any reason he'd assume that you were cheating on him with Alex. You knew he had some major jealousy issues, and he's been actively working through them with his therapist, but it was never this bad.

"Listen, I promise that what you saw isn't what it-"

"You don't have to lie. I get it. He's young, better looking...he's everything I used to be. So why don't I just go and you can have him live on this farm with you? At least he won't be a burden. At least he won't-"

"Shane just stop. Stop." You raised your voice, growing infuriated. "What in the hell made you think I wanna be with Alex when we're married?! When I've been nothing but there for you since I moved to town?! If you let me finish, I'll explain everyth-"

"Oh I'm sure you have a "perfect" explanation already lined up." He rolled his eyes. "Unless you can tell me why you were that close to him, I don't see why I'm even-"

"Today's the anniversary of his mom's death."

Shane blinked once.

Then twice.

Then three times.

"Wha..?"

"She passed away 12 years ago." Frowning slightly, you watched his expression shift wildly. "Alex was sitting there, crying his eyes out, and I just...wanted to comfort him. Like any friend would do. That's all."

At this moment, Shane felt like the biggest piece of shit in the valley, and his shoulders sagged. He didn't know what to say.

"We just hugged, and he told me about the good memories they had," you continued, moving closer to put a hand over his own. "Cross my heart, absolutely nothing was going on between us, honey. You really think I'd do that to you? To the man I love?"

"....I....I didn't know he lost his mom.." He mumbled, still at a loss for words.

"Well it's not exactly something he'd share with the whole town. And I was gonna keep it between us, but you wouldn't let me explain myself." You reminded him with a small huff, and he looked down in guilt.

As quickly as your anger rose, however, it was quick to disappear as you watched him. He seemed very torn up and ashamed for accusing you of cheating, but you could understand his perspective and why he saw it in that light.

You would've been suspicious, too.

"Look..I know it did look like something else was going on. And I'm really sorry-"

"No, no..I should be sorry for acting like a total dickhead." Shane gazed back up at you, and his face tore your heart to shreds. "I didn't mean to freak and accuse you of anything. You were just comforting a kid who lost his mom and...I got angry for no reason. Without hearing your side. I shouldn't be like this..yet I feel like some bitter old man.."

"Hey, you're not old." You shook your head, cupping both sides of his cheeks and giving him a gentle kiss. "You're barely 30."

"Still..my body feels that way." He lightly chuckled, enveloping you in a tight hug. "And again, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, [y/n]...I promise I'm working on these stupid jealousy issues."

"I know you are, and I forgive you." Smiling, you squeezed him tight. "We're gonna be okay."

"Mhm..also..um..I found something for you." He let you go and dug into his jacket pocket for an unknown item, and when he presented it to you, the grin on your face was infectious.

"Oh my god..you found one for me?!!" Your eyes lit up, as you now held a beautiful rainbow shell in your hands.

Shane nodded. "Iridium quality."

"You're the best. I love you." Laughing, you brought him back into a hug, giving him a few more kisses. "And you said you sucked at foraging, huh?"

"Ah, well..just the "chopping trees" part. Picking stuff off the ground is easy." He shrugged, his smile bashful. "Glad you like it, sweetheart. Take it as my apology for that..um..misunderstanding."

"I forgive you a thousand times over. Now..I think I'll display this beauty in our aquarium. What do you think, Shane?"

"I think I'll go with and see."

You both hopped out of bed and headed over to where you kept the aquarium tanks, with Shane in better spirits than he was before.

He still felt guilty for acting that way towards you, but your everlasting patience and persistence with him prevails.

He's glad he picked up that rainbow shell for you.

#clanask #anonymous #sdv x reader #stardew valley x reader #sdv shane #sdv shane x reader #stardew valley shane x reader #hurt/comfort #angst #tw death mention

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brucewaynehater101 · 2 days

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Have your dose of angst and bad dad Bruce as I torment him.

Fair warning, I didn't want to edit it. It's raw

His bones ache. After decades of harsh rooftop landings, broken healed and broken again bones, scars upon scar tissue, and strenuous training to always be in shape enough to save one more life, his body pays for it.

When he started the mission at eighteen, he didn't quite know the costs. As all kids at eighteen, where they feel both mature enough for the world and young enough to believe that, Bruce thought he was willing to pay any price to save Gotham. He convinced himself, after the wounds that littered his body were sewn shut, that his parents would have wanted this. They would have been proud of him.

So he continued to throw himself into a city of grief and pain. He made a mask of his family's name to wear a bat suit in the name of justice. He brutalized his enemies, but he also offered them redemption.

Barely into his career as the Dark Knight, he saw himself in a child. The bright clothes, tendencies to do daring acrobatics, and inability to sit still were starkly different from the freshly orphaned Bruce Wayne. Yet, the all-consuming rage, the loneliness, and the desire to wield vengeance were a mirror to young Bruce.

He wasn't ready to be a father. In fact, he was barely old enough to handle an infant, much more a grief-stricken nine year old who burns to make his world right again. Bruce should leave Dick in more capable hands. Despite his reservations, Bruce opened his home.

For the first time in over a decade, Wayne Manor felt lighter.

It shouldn't surprise Bruce that he's the first voice the old man hears. The lilting sound berates him, but he's steadfast in disregarding the presence. Bruce's weathered hands cramp, and he drags a cloth against glass. In the reflection of the display case, he glimpses a nine year old glaring at him. A yellow cape flutters as the kid turns away and stomps to another part of the cave.Bruce merely sighs.

The man has to take a break when the pain becomes unbearable, but he doesn't move from his vigil. He stays in front of the row of vitrines.

As if emboldened by his lack of attention, a different voice giggles from behind Bruce. The man closes his eyes and mourns.He can still hear the pitter patter of feet as they approach him. He doesn't dare to look.

"Ignornin' me, old man?"

Even though he knows better, Bruce's eyes peel open at those words. His head slowly turns in acknowledgment. The sight of a grinning twelve year old nearly knocks the older man onto his knees. The kid proudly displays red, yellow, and green as his expression indicates his teasing tone. Bruce's breath is shaky and he slams his eyelids close.

He can feel the disappointment from the teen, like a sword in his gut. He would prefer the blade over this cruel mockery of memories.

When the apparition ceases, Bruce doesn't feel relief. He doesn't feel dread either. He feels resigned.

With the ache in joints reduced from the rest, he brandishes the rag and moves to the next glass pane. His movements are slow and careful as they clear any smudge of dust from view.

This time, when Bruce becomes aware of the thirteen year old, there's no sound to accompany his arrival. The boy analyzes the crumbling man in front of him, and his worry is evident in his stillness. Bruce doesn't dare to face him. For this particular memory, that's hardly new.

The kid waits patiently, but he fades before his mentor ever addresses him.

Bruce moves on to the next case.

Her face is completely covered, but the set of her shoulders indicates her readiness to fight. She doesn't quite trust the man in front of her, but the fifteen year old specter has hope. It's obvious she's prepared to either join Bruce or fight him. If only Bruce would talk to her. His hands continue to wipe the glass, and the teen seems to roll her eyes as she turns away. Bruce knows she's not disappointed in his lack of answer. She expected it.

The man lowers his arms for another break, the pain racing up to his shoulders.

The next appearance is just as silent, but her gaze is softer. The seventeen year old moves until her image is reflected for the older man. Despite his refusal to even glance at her, forgiveness is evident in her eyes. She graces him with a small smile before leaving.

Bruce lowers his gaze to the hands that constantly betray him.

A sharp tsk brings him out of his brooding. He dares to peek over his shoulder before gazing back at the cases. The cloth is raised once more.

“Father.”

The ten year old's gaze is heavy and Bruce bites his lip until it bleeds. The tension of a kid fearful of a revered stranger's anger bleeds between the two of them. The only sound is the russle of clothes as Bruce keeps cleaning.

Bruce feels the ghost approach and the man quickens his pace. He needs to dust these displays.

There's another tsk as the kid turns away.

Bruce moves on to the next display.

“It's as simple as picking up the phone, B.”

The older man doesn't acknowledge the sixteen year old. No matter what the apparition says, it isn't that simple. Even if Bruce called any of his kids, they wouldn't answer. He knows that.

The teen sighs and shakes his head. He adjusts the red jacket in disappointment. It's obvious his mentor won't listen to him.

Just like the others, he leaves.

#dc comics #dc universe #bad parent bruce wayne #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #steph brown #cass wayne #damian wayne #duke thomas

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befuddled-calico-whump · 9 months

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Stories that leave me hungry are stories that give me a strong sense of place

Not the intricate descriptions of a photograph, but the sweeping emotion of an impressionist painting

And once I've read them, I feel like I've been away

#of course plot and characters have a strong impact as well but its somehow different?#leaving another world behind feels different #the environment around me helps tbh #id have to do a study on that #maybe orchestrate something and see how it goes #a song of ice and fire was an amazing series but it didn't impact me like hunger games did #the summer i read hunger games i went to camp and did a lot of hiking and exploring #i also listened to the album inspired by the series so it had layers #more than just the story but the story was the lines that held the color #calico is befuddled #its late but i had an epiphany

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not-your-lifeline · 2 years

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Uh... that's it?

That was honestly super short and story wasn't much different from Bad Astronaut. Except it had way more sarcasm and pop culture references.

#Lifeline #Beside You in Time #spoilers #shitposting #ending feels really disappointing and empty #it's basically Bad Astronaut without visuals and the Pwyilen #and the surprisingly it also has less dialogue variation than Bad Astronaut #in previous games I had time to explore different routes and dead endings but in BYIT it was just a smooth sailing straight to the ending #also Taylor's reaction to 'returning' to the parallel universe's earth is jarring as well #like this isn't really your home??? there could be another Taylor in this earth like T2 and you're technically non existent??#why are you okay with that??#even mentioning meeting up with parallel universe' version of the player(lifeline) is so weird #because that would be just a total stranger #I would be devastated if I was in the same situation #like... how can you just leave your world behind? what about your cat?? what about that birthday dinner with your mom???#also what's with HelpBot's sudden change in behavior? why not resist and try to stop Taylors from destroying the entire space station #it doesn't make sense because Helpbot was clearly distressed in one of the dead endings where Taylor gets infected and cuts the connection #Taylor ended up being stranded in a world where they have no family and friend and traumatized by the whole experience forever #without any way to go back to their home #this isn't the ending we deserve #certainly this isn't the ending we wanted for sure

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inupibaldspot · 4 months

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Walk him like a dog

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader

Note ₊˚⊹♡ : The first year trio are watching Gojo who is completely head over heels for you.

To the world, Gojo Satoru is the strongest but to the people who know him Gojo Satoru is a menace.

When he was in high school, he was a different breed. Yaga could not sleep at times from all the stress Gojo would cause; be it either an earful from the higher ups or checking the news only to find out there had been an explosion conveniently where Gojo’s mission was assigned.

Sometimes he would get pictured sent to him by the problem student himself, a picture with a beaten up enemy and Gojo winking at the camera with a note saying ‘Yay~ another victory! I mean it’s as normal as breathing for me (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ’

Even when Yaga would use his authority and lecture him, sometimes Gojo Satoru would not listen; be it simply ignoring or rebutting it with his opinion— an opinion no one asks for.

And when that happens, Yaga would pull out his secret weapon ‘You’! He didn’t use this card all the time but at time Gojo was simply so uncooperative, he had to! Any word coming from you would be listened to by him as if it were law. Right now, at the age of 28 he seemed to have matured- no stopped acting as childish and Yaga didn’t have to rely on you so often.

That same Yaga watches from the window at his new first years— Kugisaki Nobara, Itadori Yuji and Fushiguro Megumi— behind a bush, hiding peeking over to you and Gojo who were on a bench.

“Ah…” Kugisaki sweat dropped at the pair. “Gojo-sensei is so smitten.” She said observing at how you were simply reading a book, as Gojo yaps away but one thing very obvious was the gentle look he gave you.

When you finally looked Gojo’s way, their white haired teacher suddenly stops, they notice a faint blush peeping under his blindfolds and when he does starts talking he stammers. THE Gojo Satoru was stammering, biting his tongue simply because you were looking at him.

“Kugisaki, let’s leave.” Itadori covers his eyes, his right eye peeps through the cracks of his fingers. “Sensei is doing such a bad job at flirting with y/n, I’m getting embarrassed.”

Kugisaki lifts her hands and grabs the collar of Itadori’s and starts shaking it. “This is the closest we’re getting to romance in this school and I want to be the witness.” She grits her teeth.

Just then Nanami walks along the path, making the pair look over. You smile as you call out. “Nanami-kun.”

Nanami stops and waits as you stand from your bench, walking over to greet him. The students stare; as soon as you got off the bench and walks Gojo follows suit not even a millisecond later.

Kugisaki cringes. “He is like a puppy…”

They could vaguely hear Gojo start to make fun of Nanami, but when you think his ‘joke’ was a slight bit too harsh; they watch you give Gojo a side eye and almost immediately their teacher shuts up.

‘y/n has the strongest sorcerer at the palm of their hands .’ Kugisaki and Itadori collectively thought.

Before Kugisaki could comment she senses a small wet feeling on her forehead, then another and then she was drowning in it. Suddenly it started raining.

“Geh. Let’s get out of here.” Kugisaki says as she quickly brought her hands up to cover her bangs. “I don’t want my hair to frizz up.”

Itadori and Fushiguro follows her lead as they walk away to the nearby building and when they did reach shelter, Kugisaki quickly turns around to check on their teacher and you, a fellow sorcerer.

Her mouth drops slightly taking in the situation at hand, Nanami was no where in sight. She assumes he left because of the rain too.

But that wasn’t the focus.

Her eyes were focused on Gojo and you, holding hands smiling fondly at each other, she also noted that he was using ‘Infinity’ to not get wet from the rain.

Gojo laughs as he raises one of your hands high which makes you let out laugh, but complies as you proceed to twirl. As soon as you make two twirls, their teacher places his hands on your face as his leans down, his lips on yours.

Kugisaki and Itadori squeal and blushes at the intimate scene infront of them, jumping. “Sensei, finally did it! He kissed y/n—!” Itadori smiles.

They watch you smile into the kiss and you bring your hands up behind his neck, slowly trailing them into his hair, deepening the kiss.

“I’m so happy,Kugisaki.” Itadori wipes his tears with the back of his hands, extremely happy for his teacher’s happiness and success in his love life.

“I don’t know why you guys are making such a fuss.” Fushiguro finally decides to add into the antics of his classmates.

“Huh?” Kugisaki quickly turns and glares at the dark haired man. ”Is your heart made of stone or something,Fushiguro?”

“Yeah! I heard Gojo-sensei basically raised you.” Itadori chirps in. “You should be more happy for him.”

Kugisaki nods in agreement.

“I mean…” Fushiguro sighs as his hands are up massaging his temple, mentally preparing for the outburst to come.

“They’re married…”

“Ehhhhh???”

Reblogs, like and comment are appreciated! Love this work? out other here

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo imagines #gojo imagine #gojo satoru imagine #gojo satoru x reader #gojo fluff #gojo saturo #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #jjk

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nicoliine · 4 months

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About the times when Alastor touched you and when he expected you to do it back.

☆彡 How in the world does the radio demon, who doesn't really like physical contact, end up looking for any excuse to have his hands on you?

☆ Reader is g/n; no pronouns or y/n are used.

☆ Warnings: not really. Does a mental breakdown count as a warning? Alastor is a warning itself yk.

☆ English isn't my first language, so if there's any mistake I sorry-

You noticed that Alastor didn't like people's proximity when you first arrived at the hotel and he didn't even try to shake your hand. There, with your hand on the air, you stand waiting for his shake as you observe his ramblings about a whole different subject—not that you mind about all the weird souls that can be met in hell—watching him around the other hotel staff, you confirm it.

After a couple of days in the hotel and witnessing his power display, you made a mental note to not mess with him. That being said, you didn't really want to touch him.

You were a very touchy person, content to hug Pentious when you first saw him around in the morning or cuddle on the couch with Angel before he started to make a lewd comment about his job and you just ended up leaving him alone. Nifty seemed to enjoy being all over you, sitting on your shoulders while you were reading or just playing with your hair.

Another one who was happy about your touchy personality was Charlie, but she is just happy about everything.

☆◦•◦☆

It started a month from your arrival.

Alastor, being a self-proclaimed gentleman, didn't seem to be aware of your not touching Alastor rule, he started holding the door open for you then creating a shadow to lift up that heavy box that you needed to move, and you ended up—it was hard for you—just trying to move up your body away so you didn't end up too close to him, but he seemed to love your personal space so much.

One time, you were in the hallway, not really aware of your surroundings, until you felt an arm around your shoulders. When you heard his static voice, you froze on your steps, slowly turning your head to see him there, standing with that so-known smile of his. When he started to walk, still holding you, talking about that great idea for the hotel, you just couldn't pay so much attention. Your mind is running on thoughts about his proximity.

This wasn't the only time he ended up having you close to him; being honest, it seems to have a personal liking to your presence. You doubt he was like that before your arrival (as you already spoke with Charlie about it), but he could be found anywhere you were. If you ended up helping fix the balcony fence, he was there behind you—you're glad he's at least silent—or when you are in the bar just scrolling through your phone and he is watching you from the other side of the room, not wanting to be near your technology artifacts, is he just trying to drive you mad? Even though that look of his seems to be asking for something you don't know, you won't ask what it is. Just wait to see how it goes.

His touch soon became more frequent. You often end up with your own theory that it's something involuntary, like something he doesn't even notice by the way it feels, like deep in the end he just wants to be touched but don't know how to ask for it. But with that demon, nothing is sure; everything he does used to be planned. That's why you found yourself confused and don't want to test your luck.

When you are in the lobby in the middle of one of Charlie's activities and his arm ends up holding you by his side.

Or when he just kisses the back of your hand every time you first see him in the morning and every time he leaves, no exceptions, that confusing look of his is always there.

Just about that, your hands—he often takes your hands. While you are in the kitchen and waiting for the pasta on the stove, one of your hands is resting on the counter as you hold a recipe book, reading the next steps. He's by your side the whole time; one of his hands takes your free hand, making you pause your reading and look at him in surprise for the sudden action. He says nothing, and both of you are standing there in silence until you have to go back to cook. However, he doesn't seem to want to let you go yet because he will follow you as you move around the kitchen.

From them, it seems that everyone is aware of this weird Alastor thing.

Nobody talks about it though—you are surprised as they have stayed out of the subject, just making silent bets about the cause of this behavior of his—but you know it wouldn't take long for someone to talk about it.

☆◦•◦☆

The last time he put his hands on you, you were scared. So much has passed since the last time you felt this way. Anxious and terrified, everything around you was spinning; you had to run away from the hotel activities all day.

When Alastor found you in your room, you were a mess, all your stuff scattered around the room. You saw him from your seat in a corner on the other side of the room; the only candle in the nightstand seemed to be dead soon. He just stood there in front of you; you didn't even try to look up at him, just his shoes. You can tell so much about someone else by his shoes; his shoes seemed almost perfectly clean even after destroying his enemies. He's such a collected person that it scares you.

"Why, dear, would you look at me?" Alastor surely doesn't enjoy being ignored; you know that. You just couldn't find the strength to move when he spoke to you. It passed almost 5 minutes before you turned your head up, and he was so patient with you the whole time. "What is that troubling your mind, dear?"

You didn't respond right away; you're not sure how much time passed until you did it.

"It's just... everything." Your hands run around your face as you try not to have an attack right away in front of him. "I'm so scared, Alastor."

He just smiled; nothing was said; he didn't even try to touch your shoulder or hold you; he just smiled with that now so common smile of his, —you could swear it was the biggest smile you had seen on his face —one of his arms extended to you.

You have no idea why you did what you did; maybe he asked you directly, or you imagined it all, or his eyes showed what he wanted, or the candle in your room was one of Angel's drugs, or you just simply had a death wish. You don't know.

But you hugged him—just a hug—so hard that you could break his bones. When you took conscience about what you were doing, you tried to back down, not knowing how he could react to your contact.

But he didn't let you; his arm took you by the waist, and his staff was forgotten on the ground when he held your head against his shoulder.

You now understand why he always touched you. While you hands grabbed fists of his coat, he held you so tight, like it wasn't enough, and you just needed to be closer to him forever; he didn't want anything else.

So he did, he didn't let you go for a single moment that night; even when you were in bed, he held your hand the whole time. He just let you go the next morning when Vaggie insisted he needed to go do his job, even so he wouldn't forget to kiss your hand before he left. The ghost of his touch accompanied you all the time; it was like your body grew so used to his presence and his touch that you could feel it as a part of you.

Touch Starved! Alastor folks!!! Alastor is such an interesting character to write! I want ro respect him so bad.

Likes and reblogs are appreciated 💞

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #istg this man smells like wood and coffee #nicolines

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batfamfucker · 11 months

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What About The Kens?

I'm already seeing guys complain about the Barbie movie end, how they wanted Kens to be equal in Barbieland but were only given a small part on the Cabinet.

That's the point.

You're meant to feel bad for the Kens. Believe me, women aren't partying over the 'Returns to Matriarch' ending. Some will be, but the ones who also clocked the meaning behind it won't. Most women will also feel bad for Kens. Because it's an exact parallel to how women are treated in reality.

Men, you're meant to be upset. You're meant to question it. Because you're meant to feel it, and feel what that is like, so you can finally understand women. You're upset at seeing it in a movie, now imagine living it in reality. That's being a woman.

Kens were shit on so you could feel what it was like for women this entire time. Kens were being used as a placement so you could see yourself in a woman's shoes. A world dominated by the opposite sex. When Ken leaves, and sees male presidents (All men) for the first time, men being doctors and lawyers, etc, realising he is more than just a prop for Barbie, that was on purpose. Because that is the feeling that Barbie gave to women. It's why you cheer for him at first before he goes a little overboard.

It's exactly why the real world was an exaggerated Partriarchy and Barbieland an exaggerated Matriarchy. Neither wins. Neither is equal. None of them change for the better. It's why you should want women in the real world to be respected, and Kens in Barbieland to be respected.

The thing is, women also didn't win. Not in the real world. In Barbieland, yes, but not anywhere else. The real world didn't change. But you didn't notice, did you? That Gloria (The mother that helped Barbie) also didn't get a position on the Mattel board? It was still all men? Her idea was ignored until it made a profit, and the men will likely get the credit? She'll still just be the receptionist? The women representing the real world didn't get anymore opportunities, neither did the men in Barbieland.

I was hoping that Gloria would be offered a position on the board, and that the Barbie Cabinet would introduce another entire Cabinet to represent the Kens, but neither happened. They're complete mirrors.

But which one did you actually notice? Which did you actually care about? Now tell me again the ending was unfair. Because it was. For both parties. That's the point.

The difference is, Barbieland is fictional. You will walk out of the theatre with the reassurance that at least it's not real. Women won't. Women can't. Companies not giving women equal opportunities or voices isn't fictional, and that was just one example. There are no women presidents (USA at least) for us to go look at in the real world. We don't have somewhere to go to realise it could be different for us like Ken did. Barbie and make believe is all we had when we were kids, or even now.

You're supposed to be mad, just not at the movie.

#It's going right over people's heads #I've seen men complaining about the inequality. That's the point. Now you know how it feels. Apply that same frustration #And turn it into empathy for women in reality. Because it's not nice is it?#Please for the love of God people need lessons in analysis and critical thinking #It's not a 'women just hate men and this is a women only movie'#It's please realise that you've seen what it's like to be in women's shoes. Now be the change for women that you wanted for Kens.#Barbie #Barbie Spoilers

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nanaslutt · 6 months

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The JJK men’s fav cuddling postitions <3

incl: Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Choso, Sukuna, Toji, Megumi, Yuuji, Yuta

cont: fluff :3, suggestive on Toji’s

note: i think this is my first full fluff fic…lol

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Gojo:

I know Gojo absolutely loves every position he can get you both into where you are physically as close as possible. Gojo's infinity is on automatically most of the time, the only touch he receives being from his students occasionally or from you. So when the time comes around for Gojo to be cuddled up with you, he needs to make sure every part of his body is touching some part of you.

I can see him being a fan of face-to-face cuddling, your limbs intertwined with one another, either his or your face pressed into the other's chest, your soft breathing tickling the skin of the other. Maybe something like the 'attack of the sloth' sleeping position. You on your back, Gojo's arms and legs wrapped around yours, leaving you completely enabled, his weight crushing you when you sleep; but you never complain.. well.. sometimes you do, Gojo's body is like a furnace.

Sometimes though, Gojo wants you to spoon him from behind. Of course, he loves it the other way around but theres just something so comforting about your small frame wrapped around his back. He feels so safe in your arms like this. He gets the same feeling one would when they were a kid, afraid of what was lurking in the dark, but the moment they pulled the blanket over their head, they were safe. Gojo felt untouchable, even more so than when he had his infinity on.

Geto:

A classic man, a simple man, a man of taste. I can see Geto loving the pretzel position. Him lying on his back, his toned arm above his head while his other wraps around your frame resting against him. His leg closest to you is bent, enabling you to interlace your leg with his, the appendage thrown over his thigh. He relishes in the feeling of your arm wrapped around his midsection, feeling safe and secure when you tuck you curl your fingers into his t-shirt on the side of his body.

He loves this position because he loves how close to you he feels, he also likes to see the size difference between the two of you when you're scooted down, your head on his chest. Another plus is he can scratch your back gently this way. His hands always find their way under your shirt, gently tickling and scratching the skin of your back, shoulders, and waist. He adores hearing you hum softly into his chest in approval at the relaxing caress.

You love this position for a variety of reasons as well. With your head on his chest, directly placed over his heart, you have free, unlimited access to the soothing rhythm of his softly beating heart, never failing to lull you into a peaceful sleep. You yourself were also guilty of slipping your hand under his shirt to feel up his abs. Running your fingers over the strong indents, counting them carefully in your head over and over, was the same to you as counting sheep. His skin was always so soft and warm, how could you resist?

Nanami:

Nanami's go-to is having you lay fully atop him, your head on the center of his chest, your bodies resting against one another while he strokes your hair. softly running his hands along your head, raking his fingers on the back of your neck, massaging your head, the whole nine yards. Nanami doesn't stop until he hears you lightly snoring on top of him.

Another thing about Nanami--if you drool or snore in your sleep, Nanami thinks it's the cutest thing in the world. You're always so embarrassed when you wake up and see the wet patch on his shirt after you had a particularly deep sleep, but Nanami finds it endearing; it means you felt safe with him, your body fully relaxing and letting go in his presence.

Another favorite is good ol' spooning. Nanami loves to be the big spoon. With both of your jobs as Jujutsu sourcerers, comes harrowing losses and injuries one cannot prevent, no matter how hard they try. So when Nanami gets the opportunity to completely encase your body in his strong, protective arms, it eases his nerves. He is constantly worrying about you, but in this moment he knows, nothing will touch you, nothing will get past his loving embrace.

This position gives Nanami unlimited access to the back of your neck. His lips instantly connecting with the soft skin, pressing soft kisses to the skin there, peppering down your shoulders, his fingers moving your nightshirt out of the way to touch your skin directly--god he loved kissing you. Your skin was so sweet and warm, how was he not supposed to kiss it? It was right in front of him after all.

Choso:

I have said this about Choso countless times, but he is a titty man.. so of course he's going to lay his head on top of your chest. He loves to feel the softness of your breasts agaisnt his cheek--if you have bigger breasts, you better bet he will lay face down and squish your tits around his face, holding his breath while he presses the fat against him, relishing in the feeling of your soft tits on his face.

His hands are without a doubt, on your chest as well. His large, warm hands engulf your tits in his grip, unconsciously feeling you up in his slumber, making you smile and laugh to yourself. He also loves wrapping his arms fully around your body too. The curse nuzzles his head against your chest while he slides his hands under the small of your back, his hands tickling the sides of your waist and back softly with the little mobility he has like this.

He has never felt love like this before, so when he feels your hands wrap around his back like it's the most natural thing in the world, it has his face heating up, a deep crimson blush spreading across his face while you rub his back, your nails raking over his back, over or under the thin material of his shirt. No matter how often the two of you cuddle together like this, he never fails to mumble how much he loves you into your chest, occasionally raising his head to look at you with a pout, still embarrassed even after all the time you spend together.

When you lean forward to press a kiss to his forehead, your fingers caressing his cheek before he drops his head back down to your chest to welcome the embrace of your arms around his body, he swears he's the luckiest man in the world.

Sukuna:

Your wrists and ankles are bound in chains while you sleep at the feet of his throne completely naked. <3

Toji:

I can see Toji being a fan of the 'pretzel' as well, same as Suguru. He gets a little more handsy most times, the hand he has wrapped around your back will creep down to the waistline of your night shorts. His thick fingers slip underneath the waistband, sliding under the band of your underwear as well as he grips as handful of your ass, massaging the fat in his hand, squeezing and rubbing it with his fingers.

At first, he did it as a way to tease you, and it worked, you always lifted your head to give him a stern look while he continued to massage the skin. Over time though, It became a comfort thing for the both of you. Whenever you're tired but Toji isn't, he'll turn down the volume of the TV in your shared bedroom and let you get comfortable on his chest, your ear resting where his arm and torso meet. He slides his arm around your frame, smiling to himself when you nuzzle and cozy up to him, his hand sliding down your back, rubbing up and down a couple times while you get situated.

When you get yourself to your desired position, throwing your leg over his hip; which meets his hand as he grabs it and pulls you over his pelvis more, caressing the side of your thigh soothingly; he slides his fingers into your underwear and stares groping you, his warm hands bringing you instant comfort, and familiarity. He'll continue to absentmindedly feel you up while he watches his show, his eyes occasionally darting down to look at you with softness in his eyes before he leans forward to press a kiss to the top of your head, drifting off soon after, leaving the TV running all night, as usual.

Megumi:

I imagine Megumi being super touchy with his significant other in private once he gets comfortable with you, but I still see him being a little awkward and shy about cuddling with you. It's so intimate after all. The two of you probably started with you lying on his chest with your hand resting on his tummy, you would have to make the first move because Megumi would rather die than initiate something like that at first, no matter how badly his body was itching to feel your warmth against him.

His body would go completely rigid when you laid on him out of nowhere. Megumi would hold his breath, not daring to move even in inches in fear you would move off of him. The weight of your head and your hand that was softly rubbing his tummy felt so comforting, although it did make goosebumps rise all over his body in shock. You would have to tip your head down to avoid him seeing your smile from hearing his heartbeat race out of his chest, the organ taking a significant amount of time before he gets used to your embrace, the rhythm slowing.

After a while of being together and countless cuddling sessions, I can see Megumi being more confident in initiating cuddle sessions when the two of you are watching TV or getting ready to go to sleep. His favorite positions are all of you cuddling him. You spooning him, him lying on your chest while his legs intertwine with yours--any position where your hands are wrapped around him and constantly caressing him in some way he is a huge fan of.

He also loves listening to your heartbeat. He didnt understand how you were always so calm, the soft lulling rhythm never failing to take him away to dreamland. He felt like he was going to have a heart attack every time you even smiled at him, but that was one of the things he loved about you--someone had to initiate the intimacy in the relationship and it sure as hell wasn't going to be him. If you weren't so forward, it probably would've taken him a year to even hold your hand on his own, so he was grateful you were more forward and verbal with what you wanted, because internally, he wanted the same as you, it just took a little coaxing to get him there.

Yuuij:

Yuuji has no preference! He loves each and every position, he just loves to cuddle with you. If he could always be touching you in some way, he would, and he sure as hell tries. You want to lay on his chest while he rubs your back? done. You want to spoon his large frame and wrap your leg over his waist while his fingers tickle your calf? done. Yuuji is ready for each and every cuddle position you propose to him, and he is not afraid in the slightest to initiate the cuddle sessions either.

I think Yuuji would find great joy in lifting your shirt up and crawling inside as much as his body could fit. His head resting on the soft skin of your tummy while your shirt blocks out most of the light emanating from the TV. "It feels like I'm a baby again." He would say, holding your hips in his hands on the outside of your shirt, his fingers tickling unconsciously along your sides, making you giggle.

I think Yuuji would really like coming home exhausted from training to sit in your lap and lay his head on your shoulder, his back arching slightly from the height difference between the two of you. He would hum into the crook of your neck while you stroked his back, raking your nails along him. He would smile to himself and close his eyes when you lift his shirt, scratching his warm skin directly while he falls asleep on your lap for a midday nap.

He was quite heavy and you're unable to breathe very well while he sleeps, but luckily he never naps long, and you do admit his weight crushing you felt weirdly nice, along with the ticklish puffs of his breath against your neck--it makes you feel close to him.

Yuta:

Yuta is a big baby. He handles enough in the Jujutsu world, trying to keep up his tough, strong persona while fighting, all he really wants when he comes to you is to relax completely in your embrace. Another man who loves it when you cuddle him from behind. He loves feeling your leg wrap over his waist, he knows he's not small, but he loves to feel like it sometimes, it's comforting.

One of his favorite positions to cuddle with you during the day is his head on your tummy/pelvis, his hands stroking along the length of your waist while you tangle your hands in his hair, running your nails over his sensitive scalp, down the back of his neck, reaching as much of his back as you can. It lulls him right to sleep, and he loves it. I think Yuta would struggle with falling asleep/sleeping through the night from insomnia, but when you're touching him, your warm embrace engulfing his body, he almost forgets about all the sleepless nights he spent without you by his side.

I can also see him loving to cuddle while facing you. Your head in his chest while he wraps his arms around you, and you likewise. Your legs tangled together, your bodies pressed as close as possible. During the summertime, this position is not the most comfortable because of the heat and the somehow awful AC Jujutsu high has. So during the colder months, the two of you constantly find yourselves in this position. He keeps his hand pressed snugly to the back of your neck, making sure your forehead stays pressed to his neck at all times.

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