#oh god now im too anxious to post this

[cumforts69]

3am Fic Idea

Shen Jiu somehow gets transported into the svsss universe.

Not only are the other previously dead peak lords alive, but somehow the 'him' from this universe is somehow on good terms with all of them. Worst thing? people have started to smile when he enters a room.

After his initial shock he takes a while to ponder. Is this a blessing? Does this mean he could start all over again? Or is it a curse? Is this just a way to show him all he had done wrong? To show him what he could never have?

[lacomandante]

.

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

oaughhhh. everything is stagnant again

[finalhaunts]

-

[talkorsomething]

Too [insert adjective here] for guard ...................

Well, it's only half related.

We "hit a pothole", "had a slipup", whatever you want to call it — sunday. Aka: for the sake of my sanity we are not labeling it a relapse but good god does it feel as though I have invited the demons back in.

I know why, but I don't really know why. Because, I mean... I never have, to begin with. So: when I decided i was doing it sunday, i accepted it. "Let it happen", as someone would probably say to me. It's not...

I've been thinking about it for a while now. It's like anything - it comes and goes, a few times a year, and no matter what, I always ignore it.

Except, maybe there's something I'm not paying attention to? Or, ignoring, is the better word for it?

Of course it would be the one thing I have happening in my life.

November, I was burnt out for unrelated reasons. It was a lot to take in. That made sense. Now? ... why now?

There's not really any pressure on me. Yes, I have to do things, yes, it will be noticed if they're bad, but ...... it's not important. We don't spend time on it. I'm coming back next year, but it might be at the cost of ... all of this. I think it's progress. I haven't touched my guitar in any serious capacity in over a year. I think it's progress.

I don't take compliments well. I can't tell if that's why I don't get them, but I'm not being corrected much either. Only when I drift too far from what the work is supposed to be, only after weeks of it going, I can only assume, unnoticed. I keep getting stuck.

...push it back down.

Telling me I'm doing good isn't telling me what I know I have to be getting wrong. I could take it, at the cost of... all of this. I'm anticipating, and I know it can come. This is not where I was when I started.

It's been said, I haven't been told, that not starting it means you're more of a burden, by making the other person have to do it first. I know that. I do. And still it doesn't help. I'm not drowning. It wasn't an accident, but it wasn't planned, either. I don't know you.

I don't know you.

I'm not a good person. I'm not a nice person. Every week I tell myself this is really it, and every week I come back, and ... what? Forget I ever said anything? Forget we're not friends?

Well, we're not, huh? Nobody is, with me. What you see I swear you misunderstand. You don't ask. If you do, well, I can't answer. We're at an impasse.

It's not even my fault we didn't make it. I shouldn't feel like this over nothing. I don't do anything. You will, correctly, not let me do anything, because potential doesn't matter if you can't back it up. If you won't back it up. I let things happen to me.

I don't even feel better. And, actually, ironically, i think i know what would let me feel better. If I can't be upset with anyone else, at least I can be with myself.

... but, well, not even that. Your heart in my hands, but I mean it diegetically. And metaphorically. I hate putting myself out there, I hate having to actually perform, and yet every time, no matter what, I do it. I'm fine. I only cared at the start, and even then not very.

I don't feel anything. Not a lot, anyways. I don't let it happen. I can't. I don't know what it'll mean if I start being honest with myself.

...

I've pulled myself out of this before. A few times, now. Different circumstances, but I've done it all the same. Seasonal depression notwithstanding.

I'm only here because I did things I was scared to. And still, I'm the same. No progress made. The only way out is to do it again but I feel like I can't. I can't.

Will someone just let me say that?

Will someone just fucking help for once?

[sacharinee]

pairing: bestfriend!peter parker x fem!reader

sypnosis: after peter misses his chance to ask you out to the homecoming dance, he has to suffer the consequences of his own actions

wc: 1200+

a/n: hiii!! i have the urge to write again bc im bored and i dont wanna do my summer course work. this prompt is based on this post and loosely based on that one scene in the movie ladybird when she gets picked up by her date. i wrote this super quickly so not the best but i hope u enjoy :)

peter had it first. he had the idea, the flowers, the poster, your favorite chocolate strawberries all ready for you. until brad davis came in and stole everything. 

now he has nothing. he’s on your bed munching on the melty strawberries as he watches you get ready for the dance; you’ve asked for his help in choosing which dress you should go for. 

“okay how ‘bout this one, pete?” the boy glances up at you, mid-chew with his mouth open. 

his eyes snake over the outfit you’ve chosen. you do a swift twirl to show off the pretty soft blue satin dress that falls down to your mid-thigh with an open back. the skirt of your dress rides a bit high revealing a little too much. peter gulps, running his hands down his legs, immediately your sweet honey perfume floods his senses, his brain feels a little fuzzy, and he thinks the room gets smaller while his pants get a tiny bit tighter.

however, your eyes are what he takes in the most. you look eager, nervous about his approval, and hopeful for his admission.

his eyes widen as he gives you a soft nod and a pursed smile, “super pretty.”

you stare back at peter, his hair is flared, and you see chocolate smeared on his bottom lip. his posture looks defeated and you can’t help but wonder what’s wrong with him.

you give him a sour yet confused face, “why is your face like that?”

peter’s eyebrows furrow at your expression, “my face- why is my face like what?” 

“like…” you take a moment to think, “like- you look like that chef in that one movie with the rat, he’s got that same awkward funny looking face.”

peter barks out a laugh in disbelief, “alfredo linguini?? from ratatouille?!” “yea! that guy.” 

the boy in front of you offers you a pout and rubs his eyes, “thanks.”

“sure thing.” peter glazes over your seamless makeup when you take a seat next to him, “so, you’re really not coming? why not? it’ll be fun, plus all of our friends are going” you whine. 

peter kicks himself every day since you got asked out to homecoming by brad. he knows he should have made his proposal to you sooner, but now that he missed his chance, he feels like he’s lost you. 

“oh, so brad’s our friend now? and nah, it’s alright. i’m just gonna go patrolling tonight, might get some good action.” his eyebrows suggestively 

 you muster up a smirk and breathe out a laugh, “right. maybe you’ll find your own ‘cupid of crime’ that’ll show you a good time.” 

peter groans at you, “oh my god, margot robbie is so-”

honk!

“oh,” your ears perk up at the sudden interruption, “i guess that’s my date.” you quickly stand up and straighten your dress, taking nervous breaths. 

“i’m good right? my dress? face? hair?” your fingers run through your shiny locks, “its- i’m, i’m okay?”

peter has an indiscernible look plastered on his face as he gazes out the window and back at you. he’s shocked you’d settle for this, and even more appalled at you’re excitement to go with a douchebag who can’t even meet you at the front door. he knows you deserve better than this, and he knows he would treat you so much better with much less than your date. his stomach turns upside down and he feels his face get hot, breathing through his nostrils as he struggles to control his disbelief. he slowly stands up and meets your anxious expression peering up at him.

“you aren’t gonna get in a car with a guy who honks, are you?” 

it’s almost as if the entire atmosphere shifts. peter studies your appearance. your face shimmered sanguinely regardless, brighter than the glitter that sparkled atop your eyelids.

it was safe to say you were excited to go to the dance, even if your date wasn’t your first choice. you had been waiting endlessly for peter to ask you to homecoming. you were almost depressed at the thought thinking your crush didn’t like you back, but even more upset at the fact that your best friend didn’t even want to take you as his date, romantically or not. 

you remembered the feeling of delight swirling through your body as betty gushed about ned asking her to the dance, and mj agreeing to harry’s proposal. 

you only wanted the same for yourself. the same thrill and warm feeling of someone wanting to take you as their date. you wanted more than anything for it to be peter, but you figured he simply didn’t think of you like that as empty time and hopeless anticipation went by. so yes, you did settle for brad davis. he’s only ever been sweet to you, with harmless flirting and sultry smiles in the halls. plus you had a hunch about peter’s displeasing stance on the man, and presumed this may have tipped peter over just the right amount. 

you simply blink at his desperate eyes and nod, your adamant expression not wavering, “i think, yes, i am.”

you offer him a wistful smile when you brush past him, grabbing your purse on the way.

“y/n, stop.” peter’s finger’s wrap around your small wrist, your charm bracelet dangling against his hand.

“are you serious? what, the shithead can’t walk a few feet and knock on the door like a real man?”

“peter!” you snatch your wrist back and his hands rise.

you feel heat rushing up your neck and settling behind your ears. you had wanted a reaction out of peter when brad asked you out, yes, but the entitlement he has to mention about the manhood of brad angered you.

“i’m just saying,” he steps back from you, licking his dry lips while he chuckles back at you. “a guy who doesn’t have the balls to greet you at your doorstep isn’t worth falling for.” 

you scoff at him, he was so sweet and now he’s only taking his anger out on you. “well it’s a good thing that he’s just a friend then. what’s it to you anyways?”

peter disregards your last statement, “a friend?! y/n/n, listen to me. you’re being naive if you think he just wants to be your friend.”

another honk outside pierces your ears, yet you can’t seem to shake your stare on the boy before you. you narrow your eyes at him.

“you sound jealous.”

peter sputters nonsense out and breaks his eyesight away from you, nervously running his hands through his curls.

“jealous? me? pfft. never. i’m not jealous, i’m- i’m being absolutely reasonable.”

you keep your eyes on him as he looks down at the carpet floor. he sighs and drops down at your chair, scratching the wood on your desk. his head shakes and ever so softly murmurs, “seriously, why are you going out with him?”

peter continues to stare at the rotten wood he’s chipping, “brad asked me to be his date, so i’m going whether you like it or not. unless,” peter glances back up at you.

“there’s something you’re not telling me.”

hope bubbles down in your stomach, and you anticipate his confession, waiting to hear the words of his true feelings that you know for certain are deep down inside him.

except, he doesn’t.

the boy only blankly stares at your desk, clenching his jaw, and drowns everything inside, letting you down yet another time. you turn away, disappointed in peter, ready to leave him alone for all the false hope and hurt he has caused you. 

“right, well, when your balls finally drop, let me know. i’ll be at the dance with my date.” 

[hp-hcs]

yanxidarlings here~ literally screamed when i saw you followed me because your writings were the direct inspiration for my latest post 💖 but im curious to see your take on yandere! poly! mattheo and theodore with m! reader or just more poly headcanons because i am never. going. to. get. enough. of. them

OH MY FUCKING GOD UR KIDDING I WAS THE ANON WHO REQUESTED UR LATEST POST

IM FEELING STARSTRUCK RN 🙇‍♂️👑

requests open, please dear god

Yk, reader is (lovingly) so fucking oblivious

Like, his friends will be like “hey you’re getting pretty close with like, the two most obsessive and violent guys at this school aha”

And reader will be like “lol they’re so silly goofy aren’t they 😌”

Inspired purely by your “you know people think we're gay and dating, right?” “aren't we?” I present:

“you know people think we’re gay and dating, right?” “aren’t we?” — yandere! mattheo riddle x oblivious! male! reader x yandere! theodore nott

completely unedited cause i gotta sprint to my lecture broski

TWs: possessive/obsessive behavior, brief mentions of violence, one instance of slut-shaming (?)

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Honestly, you thought nothing of it when you were informed that due to “space issues” you were being moved to room with The Theos™. You just shrugged and followed the very anxious house-elf who had informed you of the switch to your new room.

Your trunk and belongings were there already, waiting to be set up and organized. Mattheo and Theo were hovering in the doorway looking a bit too pleased with the situation for comfort.

You just quietly said “hi” and moved past them, dumping your school bag on your new bed and flopping down next to it.

Theo and Mattheo practically trip over themselves rushing to “befriend” you. (Their words, not mine)

You all share a dorm, so it wasn’t long before they realized the other was obsessed with you.

Then, it’s all out war.

I’m talking mysterious falls down the moving stairs, getting locked out of the dorm all night, randomly being chased by bludgers—even when they aren’t playing.

Random fistfights between them whenever they see each other in the halls.

That all goes out the window, though, when reader is asked out.

Reader comes back to his dorm after a long day and finds The Theos sitting side-by-side on the edge of the his bed.

“When were you going to tell us that you became the class whore?” Mattheo drawled, his lips thinning in disapproval and disgust.

“W-what?” You ask, completely taken aback.

“We heard that little Y/N L/N’s got himself a date to the Yule Ball,” Theodore adds. “Who is it? That Parkinson girl? The Diggory boy?”

“Wh- no. I said no anyways.”

The boys scrutinize you, exuding an air of judgement.

Finally, Theodore pipes up. “Good boy.”

😳

“Aww, what’s this? Look, Riddle. Y/N’s blushing,” Theodore teases.

They make a quick mental note of that 📝

Anyways, they eventually find out who asked you out. They call a ceasefire on their own personal war, and team up to beat the shit out of the poor guy/girl.

After that, babycakes, if they didn’t already know before, everyone at Hogwarts now knows that you are TAKEN. (Even though you don’t.)

They tolerate each other, but just barely. They can really only stand each other when you three all curl up in one of your beds or on the common room couch.

Then, they’re the clingiest mfs you’ve ever met.

They have absolutely no sense of a personal space bubble. One of them is always touching you in some way, whether it be holding your hand, resting a hand on your hip or shoulder, putting their hand on your lower back…

Theodore charmed your chair in History of Magic to be impossible to move, so you can’t scoot away from him.

If you’re relaxing on the couch in the common room, Mattheo will move to sit right next to you (like r i g h t next to you) and put your legs in his lap. He tried once before to get you to just sit in his lap, but you told him no (like an idiot) and avoided him for the rest of the day. That is, until you woke up to him in your bed next to you.

Homeboy was not happy about that.

He is manipulative as fuck and will gaslight you to no end. He uses his shitty childhood and bad father to get you to pity him.

(It works.)

It’s obviously disconcerting for you when your boyos go from ‘actively out for each other’s blood’ to ‘eh, you’re fine, i guess’

You guys were watching a movie in your dorm one night, all piled onto your bed, and they accidentally fell asleep there. They woke to you already gone for breakfast and them with their arms around each other.

“If you ever bring this up again, I’ll kill you.”

“Oh, believe me, they’d never find your body.”

They become way more open about their attraction to you, everything from kissing your cheek, to making you wear their clothes (esp their jerseys with their last name on them), to asking you your ring size.

I completely agree with your headcanon of Mattheo neck kisses 😩🤌

Eventually though, because you are an oblivious gay disaster, you’re just chilling on the couch and you’re like “Hey guys, you know everyone thinks we’re gay right? And like, all dating each other?”

“What, like we aren’t?”

y/n: 😳🤨☺️🏳️‍🌈👨‍❤️‍💋‍👨

[nmakii]

ALL BECAUSE I LIKED A BOY?

— watching your life falling into catastrophe before your eyes. all because of a boy, because of oikawa tooru.

— fem!reader, oikawa lowk just plot device, vent draft 🤨, its me im reader, nonfiction 🤣, reader highk whipped

a/n: dawg… just had liek the WORST day at school tfff my whole lunch table dropped me can’t believe i wasted ingredients on a bitch that cant even return my chinese textbook 😒

oikawa tooru has a lot of fans. even that might be an understatement. but, it’s true nonetheless. even you’ve fallen for that cheeky loser’s spell.

in your defense, there are many things to love about him; how funny he is, how much he cares, how devoted he is, not to even mention his looks.

so, yes, you may have fallen for him. a lot of girls have.

“but it’s different this time. we have the chemistry. if he wasn’t so busy with training, if i’d be able to run into him again and hang out with him, then i’m sure he’d feel the same way.” you tell your friends over lunch. one of them scoffs. “suuuure, keep telling yourself that. i watched that latest game he played in, there were at least 10 other girls who were thinking the same thing.”

“you don’t get it, you just don’t get it! we have so many mutual friends, it’s almost as if we were meant to meet, y’know?” you explain, sounding almost desperate as your heart stirs thinking about him.

and, among the many exploits you did to impress him, you started doing volleyball. “s/o-chann! what are you doing here?” oikawa walks over to you, new kneepads in hand. “oh— hey! just buying some things.” you explain to him, handing the cashier some money as they wrap up your new volleyball. “what about you?”

“ahh, just getting some new gear since mine is getting pretty old… i never knew you did volleyball!” he notices things quickly. “well, yeah… i just have a lot on my plate, so i don’t do it as often anymore.” you tell him. “really noww? well, we should play together, okay?” he offers, a competitive edge in his voice.

oh my god. this is your chance to hang out with him. sure, this was what you were hoping for, but not right now… what if you fail to serve so miserably that he ends up laughing at you? but, again, it’s hanging out with him!

“sure! i’m down to play!” you quickly recover from your anxious thoughts. “erm— while we’re both here, you wanna hang out for a while?” you ask, words falling out of your lips without your own accord. “aww, no can dooo… i’m here with iwa-chan, and he’s gonna get mad at me if i bring a girl back with meee…” he pouts. “next time though! i won’t go easy on you!” he laughs before waving you goodbye.

next time.

that meant he wanted to see you. right?

“ughhh, enough about oikawaaaaa… he’s not even that cute, you’re far too good for him.” your friend frowns. you do talk about him too much, but what’s there not to love? all that could spill from your mouth were words of love for him. she was probably sick of it, your whole class was probably sick of it. so many people knew of your crush on him, it wouldn’t be a surprise if he knew and decided to just ignore it.

you couldn’t help it, you just loved him so much.

but, nothing ever came out of it.

he continued with his life, and you moved on with your’s.

soon enough, all the love in your heart for him was drained from his lack of reciprocation. you couldn’t blame him, he has so many fans, it wouldn’t be fair to pay attention to just one.

but still, even if he never got to be your boyfriend, you still got a best friend.

“agh!! s/o-chan, don’t, i look ugly right nowww!” oikawa whines as he runs away from your phone camera, nimbly maneuvering himself through the convenience store’s thin aisles. “come back ‘kawa!” you catch up to him, pulling on his arm so he couldn’t run away and snapping a blurry photo of his face.

“noo, s/o-chan, don’t post it!!” oikawa shakes his head in distress, trying to grab your phone. “too late!” you laugh, hitting post on your new story, oikawa tagged. oikawa falls on top of your body, trying to grab your phone. “delete!” he demands, trying to reach for the phone you held up in the air while keeping you stuck on the ground.

you laugh at his feeble attempts, politely waving hello to one of your classmates walking into the store. “get up!! you’re so embarrassing, ‘kawa!” you try to push him off.

it was a good day, a really good day.

even without that romantic chemistry, there was definitely something between you two. and, everyone could feel it; the way conversation just flowed so naturally between you two when you were simply being yourselves, it was like breathing after drowning for so long.

it was like laughing for the first time. you’ve never gasped for air so much as you did when you were with him.

just friends now, nothing more. and, that’s okay.

the next day, you’d walked into school, still happy from the fun you had after school yesterday. when you overheard someone’s conversation.

‘you know, s/o from class 3-3 is lowkey… so loud. all she talks about is boys. it’s like she thinks she’s someone special.’ you hear someone snicker.

‘her hair is so bad… it’s like… why would she go out looking like that?’ you hear from the long haired brunette in front of you, turning her head to look at you not so subtly.

‘she thinks she’s so funny… she needs to learn when to shut up…’

where did all this come from?

you frown as you try to get along with your day. it’s still alright though, even if most of the school population is against you, you still have your friends.

“s/o, we took a vote and most of us don’t want to eat lunch with you anymore.” your friend tells you, if you can still even call her your friend. the shock can barely even register before you nod. “oh. alright then.” you take your things to eat on one of the benches at school.

“ah! s/o-chan, what are you doing hereee?” oikawa sees you, staring daggers into the gardens. “huh? oh, i…it’s nothing…” you mumble. “don’t you have your own lunch table? why’re you here all aloneeee?” he asks.

and that’s when it finally sank in.

“i just wanted a change of scenery today, i’m okay.” you assure him, using all your willpower to hide the tears that threaten to fall out. oikawa frowns, feeling as if there’s something else, but decides not to pursue it. “hmm, okayyyy… well, if that’s all, i guess there’s no problem. i’m gonna go eat now then!” oikawa waves goodbye, on his way to iwaizumi’s table.

and when he’s finally gone, is when you finally let all the tears fall. this is such a stupid thing to cry about… being kicked out of a lunch table? there are so many other problems you could cry about…

you go to the bathroom to splash some water on your face, eyes all puffy from crying. when you get back to your classroom, you see two of your friends, or… ex-friends. it’s just for a split second, but they run out the other side of the classroom, trying to avoid you.

what was all this even for? because of being friends with a boy you liked? you never even dated, so what harm was done?

you’re so many things; smart, athletic, quite awfully pretty as well. you have your own interests, hobbies, and likes. why do you have to be reduced to liking oikawa? sure, you did talk about him an awful lot, but never recently.

“why did everything go wrong?

all because i liked a boy?”

[desire-mona]

siiiigh. todd autism headcanons because im projecting.

(using they/he/she pronouns for todd in this post. will explain but also if u dont agree i dont care, tw for alcoholism. time period is vague but autism hasnt existed as a legitimate medical diagnosis for all that long, so keep it in mind i guess.)

- cannot for the life of him stand welton's blankets. so itchy, just thin enough to not warm you up enough but still make you sweat, not long enough to cover your entire body. yes im making the blanket line in their poem about actual blankets, a boy needs to vent somewhere.

- beyond terrible temperature regulation, ALWAYS just a little too hot which is made worse by her sensory issues when it comes to wet fabric. constant slight agony and it never really goes away. theyre about 5 minutes away from crying about how uncomfortable they are at all times.

- had god awful handwriting until high school, like his teachers could BARELY read his handwriting it was Bad. OOOOOH OH MY GOD THERES A TRAIN GOING BY I CAN HEAR IT HONKING this is a really ironic thing to be pointing out rn but its sooooo worth mentioning. its still honking this is fun. 🚂. anyway. her parents made her spend an entire summer fixing her handwriting bc that was like the One thing her teachers criticised. its Fine now but their motor function simply doesn't deliver in the handwriting department.

- had a VERY INTENSE special interest in aquatic life + marine biology growing up, like read every book about any ocean animal in any library intense. his parents eventually forced him to abandon it because its "not a good career focus" but he still perks up when anyone mentions fish. once talked neils ear off about the biodiversity of coral reefs for roughly 2 hours, neil took her to an aquarium for their first date. rip todd anderson you wouldve loved spongebob squarepants.

- looooves pets, namely cats, but they have Too Sweaty hands all the time so any animal fur sticks onto their hands and just feels. so awful.

- had a brief period in his 20s where he was definitely an alcoholic, started as a social drinker but got too addicted to the feeling of not having to adhere to social conventions quite as hard, especially around other drunk ppl. eventually went sober after they realised they just Cant Stand the feeling of a hangover anymore. autistic ppl r more likely to develop a dependency on alcohol if we do start drinking. just btw.

- gets a Pretty Expansive vocabulary after actually starting to pursue literature. sometimes his family lightly teases him about using big words but it confuses the hell out of him. its just a word she thought would apply best!!

- soooooo obsessed with what other ppls idea of them is, both in an anxious way and out of genuine curiosity. would never ask ppl what they think of her bc she thinks thats 1) very broad 2) seems compliment fish-y and 3) just gonna lead to "i think ur great/ nice/ whatever filler compliment." but the dream is to sit someone (neil) down and just ask him every single question possible about how he perceives him.

- asks a billion clarifying questions about anything someone asks him to do, gets anxious about how many questions he's asking, tries to just figure it out, freaks out about the possibility of getting it wrong, ends up doing the thing perfectly. weekly occurrence.

- never fully grasped the appeal of religion (most definitely grew up catholic or christian or Something) just bc she could NOT let the lack of proof go. ALSO not an atheist bc the vastness of space scares them out of it. religious beliefs r a weird topic for them.

- suppresses a good chunk of his stims in public bc One total time someone looked at him weird while he was chewing on a sweatshirt string and he was like i gotta stop NOW. eventually develops tics and has to mask THOSE in public too. dear god someone let this girl unmask. also i started ticcing while writing that bc my body does this great thing where i only tic when im reminded of the concept of ticcing. its great and totally doesnt make me think im faking them (faking for who? dunno bc it usually happens when im alone)

- DOES in fact stim around neil bc NEIL STIMS TOO!!!!!!!! joyous day when they found THAT out! gets vocal stims of random lines from whatever play neil is practicing for. YEAA ART THOU THEEEEREE was a vocal stim for a solid week and a half which made neil VERY excited (autistic neil. how i love u autistic anderperry)

- velcro is The most evil vile disgusting material to ever grace this mortal realm. he hates it more than anything ever and i mean that fully. the feeling of BOTH sides, the noise, how easily it comes apart, she hates it all.

this is the gender part

never really viewed gender and gender roles as anything to adhere to beyond the fear of punishment if they dont. finds any social convention relating to gender to be Really dumb and meaningless, bc gender isn't (scientifically) real in any capacity, so why treat it like that? for the longest time just shrugged and said "eh, i guess im a boy" bc thats what she was used to being told, and didn't feel particularly drawn to agree OR disagree. eventually realised on a late night that Wait. i dont Actually care what i am. like yeah im a Male i guess but also im just me. my brain doesnt have a gender and i basically am my brain, right? and then never really thought about it again because that's genuinely how little he cares. adhering the most to canon with that mindset, she never really tells anyone (for obvious reasons on top of the overall apathy) and just lets the he/him happen to her but. in my dream world? agender they/he/she todd anderson. and this is MY blog so those are the pronouns im using from now on. i will forever love talking abt how autistic ppl very often view gender differently than allistic ppl, will forever love talking abt how autistic ppl are more likely to be trans. autism!!!

also yes that entire paragraph is just my view of gender, change the pronouns and the todd mentions and its just me. what of it.

[hamburgerhelpersotherhand]

Infatuation P13

Joe Goldberg x Reader x Love Quinn

Masterlist

Warnings: post murder, drugging.

Notes: Wait... it cannot be... the final part of Infatuation? Posted? Pinch me, I must be dreaming! This has actually been sitting in my drafts for years. Not kidding. Ever since I finished Part 12, this has been collecting dust. Please enjoy, as I prepare some other goodies...

~

To put it simply, I’m frozen.

My instincts have me searching the room rapidly, but an emotional pull draws me to Love’s wide-eyed stare. She’s crouched by someone who’s laying limply on the floor. Well, I know they’re not just laying there. With that amount of blood, they’re surely… dead…?

I— I shake my head. No, no. Focus, observe.

The reasonable part of my brain tells me Love had something to do with it, but I can’t help but hold off on the assumption. Love couldn’t. She—

She stands and I feel myself stiffen. As she makes her way toward me, Im drawn to the blood staining her sleeve. I visibly gulp.

“I-It was self defence.” She says, nodding her head as though she were trying to convince herself as much as she were trying to convince me. She‘s making herself small, caving in with partially hunched shoulders and hands that don’t quite fit comfortably by her sides.

My god, she really did it. I could’ve believed the lie if I hadn’t seen the evidence caked on her… or looked at whatever remained of the neck, but I crouch and reach for the corpse’s face anyway.

When I drag her sticky hair out of the way, I feel an odd sense of satisfaction and relief. Now, I don’t have to worry about Candace… but this isn’t really any better. Love— she’s… she just took a life, and with a witness too.

I glance to you and Love drops the locker door behind us. I flinch.

“Does anyone else know you’re here?” I ask Love, feigning a calm demeanour. On the inside, I want to tear her apart— but I need a clear idea of what’s happening. You’re… here too. I can’t risk doing something drastic while you’re still in the room and looking this way.

“No.” She replies dryly before stepping back. “A-actually, yeah. Her phone—“.

“Do you have it?” I ask. When I glance back and up toward Love, she slips it out of her pocket and holds the device loosely toward me.

I take the device and examine Love’s face at the same moment. She seems erratic, so I tell myself that keeping myself together could benefit her as well, I need to be our anchor… lest I wake what’s underneath.

I place the phone in-front of Candace’s face and it unlocks.

“Check the call history.” Love rushes to suggest.

I look at her and squint. “…Why?”

“Someone called her.” Love says, and I’m already rubbing my forehead out of anxious habit. Oh, for fucks sake.

“Who?” I ask, shaken.

Love blinks, her expression shifting angrily. “I don’t know, Will—! I picked it up and I didn’t recognize any of it!”

“W-What did they say?” I stand up, looking at Love for answers. I’m getting frustrated.

She hesitates for a moment, but I can see she’s trying to wrap her head around it. “They said ‘get out of there’.”

I start scrolling through the call history with a shiver. All along the way, I see Forty’s name, and at the very top— the very last call received- I recognize the unnamed number.

I take out your phone, and open it swiftly. Love watches me and leans in curiously. And wouldn’t you know it, that same mysterious number litters your history too.

“This number called? It’s all over Y/N’s phone.”

“Wh-what the fuck does that mean?” Love asks me, stuttering and furrowing her brows like it’ll get her an answer. But then she looks to you.

“What the fuck does it mean? Who is that?-“

“Calm down.” I immediately regret my statement when Love’s face whips to look at me. She grimaces but hesitates to open her mouth. For the first time tonight, I see Love catch herself from what I can only assume is dawning realization that she looks and sounds absolutely ballistic.

“Why is she locked in that cage?” Love whines out about you, and I don’t know how to feel. She’s making me the villain, pointing fingers, but may I remind everyone in the room of who’s covered in fucking blood? You’re trapped in this glass container because I got carried away and made a selfish decision... but she did something worse, wouldn’t you agree? But stating this isn’t going to help anyone, especially our hysterical guest over here.

“I did this for you.” I reply instead, my voice just above a whisper. Love’s face softens into one I’ve seen countless times before. Yet… something in me has changed. I don’t feel warm when I see it anymore.

“We’ll get out of this.” She mutters, wiping at her eyes as though something were actually there. “We just— we just have to clean up a bit, yeah?”

And in an almost comical fashion, we both turn our heads to the cage— but more specifically… toward you.

You sit still in your corner. Your eyes are open and blown wide.

“We need to clean up...” Love mumbles again, this time drifting off as she observes you fondly. I can’t help but stare at her with an astonished look in my eye. She’s insane and it’ll be my unfortunate responsibility to do something about it.

“There’s some flunitrazepam in the desk.” I regrettably say, and a part of me feels terrible over the mere implications that flash through Love’s mind.

“I don’t even want to know why you have that.” She nearly spits, changing her demeanour once again. I have to clench my fists by my sides not to absolutely lose it in such a sensitive and integral moment. Love carefully makes her way to the desk and shuffles through the drawers.

In a minute, Love’s standing in front of the cage’s door, uncapping the water cup I got for you.

“Y/N. Look at me.” Love says. “You see this?” She holds a small grey pellet in between her index and thumb. “Im going to put it in this,” She wiggled the cup lightly, “and you’re going to drink it.”

You shake your head horribly, trying to shrink further into the corner.

“This is the easy way, Y/N. The hard way is going to hurt a lot more.” Love looks to you sympathetically. “Don’t take the hard way, babe.”

Babe… I gulp.

You don’t let up. You’re standing your ground and being stubborn, and I can see Love’s not having it. But you’re — you’re traumatized. I know you are because, hell, even I’m shocked at the scene I’ve stumbled into. We’re discovering something about Love we hadn’t known before… and it’s not easy. It’s never easy. Love takes in a deep shaky breath before facing me.

“Force her.” A shiver runs up my spine, and I hesitate. It’s not like she and I have gone through this before, had a plan, or even discussed the implications of her… hard way… but I think I know what she wants.

As I pull the key out from my pocket and unlock the door, I watch you cower. You’re just scared, but there’s really nothing to be scared of anymore… well, actually… I glance at Love.

“We can’t waste time, come on.” She says.

I step through and observe you for a moment. You try to stand up and I see it in your subtle move to get away that you'd expected to dodge me, but I’m quicker than you thought and you don’t have much room to wander. I hold my arm out and you run into it, allowing me to spin you around and firmly hold your arms to your sides and your back to my chest. My free hand simply grabs your jaw and squeezes.

Love steps into the cage as well, holding the cup in her hand and a face of… disappointment? Or maybe it’s shame, from the way I’m holding you still against your will.

“Y/N, I… I gave you options, okay? You chose this for yourself and we have to go through with it so we can move past it.” Her words are meant to reassure you that things could’ve been better, but I can’t help but feel as though she’s unlawfully justifying drugging you to herself.

As she gets closer, your squirming and panic gets worse. It’s not much to fight off, you never have been difficult to hold down.

Love’s hand takes my place and grips your jaw. You whimper, of course, and it’s such a gentle sound. You must be tired. She holds the cup to your parted lips and begins to tilt it into your open mouth. You sputter for a moment, and then your eyes shut tight.

“She’s not swallowing it.” Love grits and discards the empty cup. She loosens the grip on your jaw and, with her free hand, pushes your chin up to shut your mouth. Come on, Y/N… it shouldn’t be this difficult.

Love gently caresses your cheek and allows her hand to slide downward. I watch over your shoulder as her fingers run across your neck and, with a precise flick to your throat, you whine.

“You have to swallow.” Love states sternly as she tilts your head back some more. “Then it’ll be over.” You whimper again and I bite my cheek.

After another minute of your resistance, you start to move and it finally goes.. all the way… down.

It’s not long before you slump in my hold and I sit you up against a wall to think. What happens now?

I glance to a container of plastic bags. I wrap the body up, bring it out of town. A quick look to the phone in my pocket reminds me. I cover her tracks. But wait… teeth, finger prints, hair. Did Love take Candace’s car? And the messages… We can be compromised before we’ve even left the building.

When I look to Love, she’s nervously pacing back and forth. When she stops in front of me, I realize she’s been talking. “Are you even listening—?!” she panics. “Oh my god, we're so fucked!” Love grabs at her hair and looks around.

She doesn’t know what she’s doing, and I begin to wonder what our relationship will be like now. This isn’t going to work. My heart starts to race and I begin to heat up. She’s not meant for this. Will she let you go? I think we have to let her go.

I don’t hesitate to grab Love by the collar of her shirt and shove her against the glass cage.

"NO — W-WAIT," she tries to scream. My hands find her throat but before I can squeeze, she shouts.

“I’M PREGNANT!” and I still as my blood runs cold. My eyes run down her body then, quickly.

“You’re…” I hesitate to repeat after her, my terrifying future flashing before my eyes as my hands pull her closer by her shirt. I breathe out as my eyes meet hers again. I witness the… worry? Fear? Somewhere in her swirling sight, I feel exposed to sincerity. She’s telling the truth.

My arms fall limp to my sides, my attention growing dull. As my head swirls with thoughts, she slips out of reach. My eyes follow her movements until they settle on you, slouched, unconscious.

“I know how to fix this,” Love sniffs, wiping her nose with her sleeve. “Just — please… take care of the body.”

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA for writing fanfics shipping two characters from a TTRPG campaign?

submitted: 1/25/24

this feels like a complete non-issue, but oh my god am i anxious. please dont be mean. everyone in the story (including characters) are adults. many unimportant details omitted bc the gm is on tumblr and if he saw this i think i would turn into dirt.

im in an online campaign and we've been playing for a couple months. my character has become my Actual Son and i love thinking about him all the time. the other night, me and two other players were chatting in a channel on the discord about our characters. it was simple things like how our characters view each other, and it was all in good fun.

we were analyzing one of the characters because their player (O) made a playlist based off their life, and the other player (B) joked about my character and playlist character being involved romantically. it was silly and the O said anyone was welcome to try romancing their character, we made a silly ship name and joked that B was the first official shipper. i replied and said i might be one too and we kept joking about it.

however, my brain has been rotating these two characters in my head for hours now and i want to write my own personal headcanons/shipping fics for them. they've both interacted a lot and have quite a bit of lore they've experienced together in the campaign and its angsty and i cannot stop thinking about it.

i have a password protected writing blog on tumblr where i would be posting them for private archival and otherwise i wouldnt tell anyone about it unless our characters actually started behaving romantically.

reasons i think i could be the asshole: im worried this will affect my roleplaying with this character, im also worried i misunderstood how much of the conversation was joking, im also not sure where the whole group stands on characterXcharacter romance and worry about making people uncomfortable

reasons i dont think im the asshole: the writing will be kept privately for my own enjoyment, my ttrpg character has grown into more than just my tabletop character and i've been fleshing out a life story for him, the law of 'do whatever you want forever'

so, would i be the asshole for writing ship fics between these two characters?

What are these acronyms?

[1eoness]

uhmmmm actor leon kennedy?? mayvbe

cw: dom! ooc leon kennedy x sub afab reader | no specific leon | he's kinda weird here idk | creampie | praise | mild degradation | wee bit of size kink idk

[to clarify, i am a minor (17). anyone <17 and anyone >17 uncomfortable with interacting pls dni}

a/n bc i love rambling : so uhmmm when i was writing this there was an electric explosion right outside of our house so the power's out in our neighborhood and im back in this damn cafe LMAOOO

a/n : (update lol)i wrote this like monthssss ago (wtf this sucks).. so im back nd im gonna post this bc why the fuck not it's still rllyyyy bad and a lot of word repeating but yeah just felt like posting lol

synopsis : actor!leon kennedy has been in the gig too long to deal with nepotistic, wide-eyed girls like you. yet much to his exasperation, you're just too much of a greenhorn in the showbiz world.

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ -you can fucking skip this part idc- ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

you've only ever heard his name maybe once or twice in one of the magazines in your mother's bar. you must've read it over and over again, having to see his name and face habitually to endure the excruciating hours of working behind the bar with your phone in a locker. you weren't particularly enthusiastic about films or Hollywood or WASP families, either. but it was better than nothing.

it started like this. you were wiping the cedarwood slab that dewed with beer, when the woman who sat across you (having drunk maybe 4 pints) reached over with her veiny, grisly hands. the acrylics tapped at your temples when she held your awkward face.

said "woman" was your aunt who just got back from monaco. and she's been urging you to work with Pierce. whoever that was.

you were well content with the life you had right now. but sometimes—often in front of your vanity— you did find yourself fantasizing about the 'big city'. you caught yourself in a cliche dream but the idea was invigorating, the mere machinations of those opportunities dangled above your eyes like meat on a stick.

"..oh, but.. i don't think it's practical, you know?" you excused as you dismissed the billowing thoughts in your head. even if you had the physical assets that aligned with the director's vision, it would still feel wrong. some people go to literal schools for this stuff, don't they?

but she remained persistent. and after a low, lighthearted sigh, she continued her persuasion. "..y/n, you're a diamond in the rough." your aunt neared you, holding your hands together in a friendly hold. "..let me make it a reality for you."

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ -♡- ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

so. were you a natural? hell no.

you're wearing a costume that you can't even touch without the stylists getting mad at you. you got harped on and poked at for so long you were starting to get a migraine. the studio refused to let up on you, jabbing at you passive aggressively until you curled like a millipede. honestly, you were more pissed than sad!

and leon? god, he was a total fucking hottie. and he was totally cold.

the director announced an hour break to everyone just before they'd jump straight to the next scene. you remained sat on one of the props, hands clasped on your lap, contemplating the choices you've made over for the 7th time today. you were fidgeting like you were anxious. you forgot how breaks felt. the luxury was there, five star hotels, velvet cushions and robes and office gossip and dinners with imported wine and cheese. but it felt like hell. working with leon was the only thing that made it even ten percent worth everything, but even he doesn't seem to like you. why was everyone so mean? fucking fair enough, you were beginning to hate this place so much you might ask for a cigarette yourself.

the petrichor mellowed through the film set, nibbling her skin with chill. nights in raccoon are cold, you needed to keep mind of that in case you decide to open your front door without a jacket. the alleyways were diffused by vapor lighting and LED signs. you also had another superficial thought. what do people on set usually do when they're on break?

you whip your head up, legs swinging slightly as you scanned the area. most of them are either adjusting equipment, going through script, or smoking one. you turned your head to your right without expecting much.

you saw leon leaning against the wall, next to the director, sharing smoke (you're beginning to see this is a trend) and cheap laughs. you were mildly surprised, not realizing they were both adjacent behind you, and you felt goosebumps rise when your eyes landed on leon. you quickly looked forward again. you didn't want to move away.

you missed leon's subtle smirk to himself when his gaze flicked to the crown of your hair. he took a puff of his stick, still sounding like he was talking to the man beside him. his eyes didn't leave you and the way you sat there like you were going to spend the remainder of your break spacing out.

leon's voice was nonchalant behind you. to you, it was faint chatter. "...life will chew you up and spit you back out before too long, but that's..."

...

was he talking to you?

leon wasn't too nice on you while you guys were on set, but he wasn't so directly mean either—emphasis on directly.

he's earned word of you from both your aunt and the director, obviously. he doesn't look like the type, but sometimes he has a knack for gossip. that's just how the nature of stardom works, doesn't it? name number #1 did this that tto name number #2, someone divorced someone, someone slept with someone—and the whole world goes aflame. he could care less about where you came from, why you're really here or who you were connected to. but something about you was thought-provoking. contrasting you, he worked for where he was. you just sat there looking pretty and snagged the role right away. maybe that sort of incompetency and oblivious audacity made you stand out from the rest. he found it pathetically attractive. you're an artless girl.

your head swiveled over your shoulder, looking behind and up at leon.

leon's eyes met your gaze halfway. "aww. is this your first big time acting gig, baby? no need to be nervous, it'll be alright." a tinge of mockery sweetened the husk of his voice. the director, who you now know is 'pierce', snickered at leon's subtle sarcasm.

the director tells him he's going to announce everyone to continue, since he wanted the rain to 'sex things up'. heaven's dew tapped lightly on the concrete as the director mounted his back off the vandalized walls, leaving you and leon alone in the same space. oh god.

for a minute you sat there quietly, letting the tension sink in upon the director leaving. you tentatively take another glance at leon. he wasn't looking at you anymore, and his hands were out his pockets as he swipes the little box open. soft brown tufts wisped when he shook his head to get the rain off his hair.

you got off the table. you walked to leon. you'd say your feet were moving on its own.

his head shifts to your direction. his bangs falling over his face. a gust of wind breezes by, and he smells deep, musky. like cardamom. cedarwood.

" if anyone's givin' you trouble on set..." leon looks down as he slips a cigarette in his mouth, rummaging in his pocket for his lighter. "you come to leon... 'kay?"

his hush voice was honeyed whiskey when it wooed at you, applying simple emphasis to his two-syllable name. leon, leon, how that name would sound in bed. there's a slight tease to his eyes, before diverting his attention to his cigarette, casting an orange glow in his palms when he flicks the lighter on with his thumb. his presence was prodding, inviting you with every inch of his body language. this man was blazing and you were a fucking moth.

he likes the way you're looking at him right now. your eyes are batting at every subtle sculpt of him. you can look away but he knows you're still thinking about him.

such a sweet thing, this one.

he decides to be 'friendlier', pitying the fact that you're obviously having a hard time socializing with the crew. "what's your favorite movie, doll?"

"mm.. i liked kill bill. and pulp fiction." you converse casually.

a name rolls off his tongue. "quentin tarantino." he nodded in what seemed like approval, watching a puddle.

you blink. "what?"

he glances at you and he doesn't reply, before leaving that wall all to yourself.

...

leon's tongue trickles with the taste of vouvray. you were art in the shadows, the honey lighting of the dimmed lamp doing nothing to illuminate leon's hotel room. your lips are glossed with his saliva, evidence of your breath went after he made out with you.

you're barely holding it, all while his big hands purchased at your flesh, drinking in the way you straddled his boner. the subtle friction where you were able to feel how big he really is intimidated you, blooming excited butterflies, your stomach fluttering at each soft push of your hips. you watched with your palms flat on his stomach, the soaked fabric of your panties collecting and staining all over his boxers as you stifled a needy whimper. "y'need it now, baby? oh, don't go soft on me now... i'll take care of you, just tell me."

his pretty baby, sitting on him and too shy to plead from the big shot. leon's hands languidly travel your skin, palms massaging up your sides. "...i-i wan' it.. i want you.. please.." you murmured hazily, leaning down to give him a soft kiss to compensate for the bashfulness that rode over your speech.

"is that right, sweetheart?" he bit his lip gently at the teasing sight, loving the way you sounded needier by the minute. "oh, baby, go on. it's all yours, yeah?.." he crooned, patting your thigh gently.

"easy, baby.. oh, there you go.. atta girl.." he groans prettily when he's muttering you through it, eyes delectably gazing at the way you sink on his length. it was cute to him seeing you not knowing what to do with your hands. but he watches you settle them on his built torso, and he could only look at you in adoration. god, he was so fucking thick and you were so highly strung..

leon's touch stroke at your knees. you aren't moving, and he looks almost amused seeing you try to render just how he feels inside you. "i can't.." he heard you murmur before you giggled quietly, to which made him chuckle as well. but the flustered laughter dies down. the actor groans, feeling your fluttering grip around his cock, making it his instinct to hold onto your waist.

it didn't take long before you started getting loud. your arousal lathered up and everytime you pump down a creamy squelch. "mhmmm... uhh, keep going.." leon whispers, and his eyes stared at where your bodies met. you could hear a soft whimper from him—vocally begging your sweet little self to go faster.

leon watches you trying to change the speed. poor girl, you looked like you were already starting to ragdoll. you resisted stopping, unable to with the way he'd rub into the right spots. leon took your small, depleted whine as a sign for him to initiate. he was just letting you have your fun. just until you'd get a bit frustrated. by this time he'd already lit another cigarette and the stick perches between his lips.

"..tiring, ain't it, sweetheart?" leon coos, feigning pity for you, fingers clutched at your hips like its his favorite thing to hold. he started to thrust up into your sopping little cunt, pulling a weak mewl out of you. there might be nothing he loves more than watching your supple frame as it bounces atop him.

"mmm.. aww 's okay, baby.. leon's got you.. mhm, that's right." he responds to every quaint sob you make. his stamina was stubborn as he gradually shifted his pace.

"nice and quiet, baby... don't want th't fucker 'pierce hearin' you..." leon almost feels like a sick fuck, pretty lips grinning slightly as he moans. "god, fuuuuck... mmmhh... uh- f-fuck!" leon almost whines before giving you a harsh thrust, as if he were desperately trying to make you his cocksleeve. if you were going to take it so well then you shouldn't be surprised at how he's gonna force you down, and keep you in place while he sluts you out.

you're murmuring something, and the words fall like blabber to his ears.

leon smiles endearingly, as if he isn't fucking you stupid right now. "mhhh.. wanna cum? you wanna cum?" leon asks as he tries to make sense of what you're saying.

and you gulp, gasping through your watering voice. "w-wanna cumm.. give it t'me-"

he tries not to laugh.

"c'mon, let me make you cum... i'll make it feel good.." leon murmurs before you could feel him pound into you, a whine dripping like syrup from your voice. your body barely keeps up. you feel tight and it's making leon's head tilt back a bit. "oh, there you go, sweetheart... atta girl.." he mumbles hazily as his mind starts to get messy.

"like that? uhuh? mmmh?~" leon moans back almost mockingly at each pleasured whine that spilled your voice. you're mindlessly pawing at whatever you can reach on leon, turning him on with your helplessness. "takin' me nice and well-..." he growls as he starts to piston up into your cunt brutally. you look cuter when you're stuffed with leon's thickness, when you're crying on what you begged for.

"leon, c-cumming" you lolled out in a low moan, head leaning slightly. "i'm gonna cum.."

he responds with a groan, hips rocking upward as he feels you clenching around him. "go on, baby, give it to me. 'm right here,"

he has you shuddering when you cum, the vibrating sensation jolting to your brain as it reeled in pleasure. it takes a few shallow thrusts to keep you satisfied but it's hard to tell when you're already sniffling and twitching on top of him. you wipe your face as you draw a few breaths. leon reaches to warmly take your wrist, thumb pressing onto your skin, feeling your heartbeat.

he watches you gather your bearings before generously caressing your hair once. you help yourself off leon's shaft and a heavy-sounding breathe escapes him in wonder.

leon whispers something once he leans into you and chucks his half-dead cigarette into the ashtray. "c'mere.." his one arm tucked around your back and eventually the other to your leg as he makes you lie down. he treats you with some sort of delicacy, at least until he doesn't.

leon tugs you closer with his arm hooked loosely under your knee, pulling your princess body in for a few intimate kisses to calm the both of you. he tastes mildly bitter. you hummed in his mouth when your lips lock together, eyes fluttering while you felt weak. leon starts muttering as he asks if anything hurts, if you're okay, if you're gonna stay here for the night. for a moment he doesn't say anything and he's just gazing down at you languorously while he breathes. he kisses one of your eyelids before he shifts.

maybe leon liked you better like this, on your fours, limping against the satin bedding as you cried and panted in a way that seemed like suffocation. his thick fingers tug at your hair once, your only teary view being the couch and the TV that dimly mirrored a reflection of you being held down be leon as he rammed into your dribbling hole tenderly. your legs occasionally kicking up against him, hitting him with your ankles as you found it hard to not writhe. he watches you peek over your shoulder, the expression in your eyes instigating struggle. "what?" leon tugs at your hair again, fighting the toothy smile from his face as he fucked you brainless. "didn't think i could make a whore out of you?"

leon lets go of your hair to rut into you with urgency. the bed was starting to jut out small squeaks from leon's rhythm. he leans closer, chewing on his lip as his eyes narrowed in pleasure. a soft growl emanates from behind you, skin on skin, breathing near your ear. the rough hands that were once planted near yours on the mattress start to grip your forearms like handles. he watches your back contort.

you jolt up as leon yielded you to his body, impaling you with his girth in a routinely fashion, urging you to cry louder. "oh, baby.." he whimpers lowly as he starts to feel himself lose control again.

"fuck, i can't.." you wail out, head hanging low briefly. he notices.

"ready to pass out, honey?" he pants softly.

you weakly shook your head.

"good girl." leon bit his bottom lip, whispering out a needy 'fuck' as he slammed into you while pulling you back. he felt satisfied by the way you yelped. his brows furrow, expression tainted with a lustful and crude color as he almost began to drool. brown strands started to get in the way of his vision. his breath is suddenly hitched, water lining his eyes as his voice turned up a note. he hisses, head tilting to the side. "fuck, fuck,-" his gruff words start to match with his thrusts. "take it- all-, yes, baby, that's a good- fucking- mnnnghh..."

it takes leon a while to recover, moaning lowly and riding his orgasm, watching you spasm beneath him while he spills inside you without much restraint. he tiredly fucks his load in you before he gives out and huffs a spent whine. he catches a glimpse of it. you're leaking white.

you're breathless, fatigued, sweating, and almost thoughtless as you catch some oxygen back in your lungs. you could feel yourself pulsating around his twitching shaft as waves of pleasure traveled your burning body. his arms loosen of their sensual hold before they catch you, pulling your weary form down to spoon with you momentarily. you can feel each other inhaling. exhaling.

a phone rang. it wasn't yours, you could tell by the ringtone. your eyes flit to see pierce's name on a default iphone screen. "i need a drink." leon exhales roughly, leaning over to kiss the shell of your ear before he reached for the bedside table to grab for his phone. he slipped out of the sheets with his phone on his ear.

[amethyst-halo]

decided i want to work on everything stays au so post time stop oh my god why is this so LONG

when the bros start fighting after failing the family harmony, grandma rosiepuff steps in and stops john from leaving. when they try to point blame, she puts her foot down and tells them to stop and apologize to each other. all of the older boys are too stubborn to, but baby branch feels guilty and takes the blame for everything going wrong. floyd, spruce, and clay all go to comfort him, and john realizes what he's doing is ruining the band for them. he apologizes to all of them, recognizing he'd pushed too hard and set too high a bar.

they decide to take a break from the band and focus on just being brothers instead. everything is okay for a while; they goof off and mess with each other, help their grandma with chores, etc. as brothers will do. branch is a happy little thing, though pretty anxious, and while his brothers still fight with each other, things are good. but rosiepuff gets taken the next trollstice, leaving the boys on their own.

the boys are devastated, of course, and things are pretty rough for a while. john and spruce share the brunt of rosiepuff's role as the parental figures, doing their best to comfort the youngest three and keep the pod running. branch is struggling the most with comprehending what happened, as he hadn't lost anyone before, and doesn't fully grasp for a while that rosiepuff isn't coming back. things are okay eventually, but it's a hard time for a while.

john is still keeping everyone on track of their chores and such, but mostly likes to let them goof around. he still writes music in his off time, and likes to help branch plan his bunker hideout. he prefers being outside most of the time, and likes to find weird bugs and plants to show his brothers and teach them about them.

spruce leans way back, no longer feeling pressured to keep up his heartthrob persona. he takes up the cooking and gets super good at it, and overall is very relaxed. he likes to climb high into the tree to bergen-watch at the top of the cage, and sometimes talks one of his younger brothers into going up with him.

clay indulges in his interest in learning and graduates super early; he's the first to graduate troll school (which im just basing on the us school system bc thats what i know aksjdhjk), with john having dropped out when rosiepuff was taken and spruce still in his last couple of years. while he still likes to goof off with his brothers, he takes on a more serious persona with other trolls and likes to keep up with his sad book club. he becomes pretty good friends with the older princess, viva.

floyd still wants to go solo, and ends up doing little gigs and such around the tree in his spare time. he doesn't want to leave his brothers, so he never gets huge, but he manages to set himself a name. he's fairly quiet and struggling a bit with the always-happy-ness of pop trolls, but he does his best to keep it to himself, at least around branch.

branch himself is a fairly happy kid. he's got a paranoid streak, though, and struggles a lot with being alone, so he's usually stuck to one of his brothers. he's fairly shy with other kids and doesn't seem keen on making friends, but he gets coaxed out of his shell sometimes. he loves to plan his hideout and share his ideas with his brothers, who are all getting a little concerned about how much he wants to hide.

a couple of years after the band's hiatus, branch and spruce are doing laundry up on one of the higher branches of the tree. branch is enjoying himself, singing a song john had taught him while spruce works. he doesn't notice the approach of a bergen until spruce shouts, and the next thing he knows, he's falling out of the tree as spruce is grabbed in his place.

branch is sure if he hadn't been singing, this wouldn't have happened. he had brought the bergen to them by singing, and now his brother was gone.

clay and floyd find him at the base of the tree, and they know something is wrong. branch blurts that it's all his fault and spruce is gone, and they try to tell him it isn't his fault. they take him back up to the pod to john, who won't believe that spruce is gone. john goes to look for him and clay has to follow, leaving floyd to comfort an increasingly distraught branch. john initially thinks its a bad prank by spruce and clay, but clay gets through to him that spruce was really taken.

when they get back to the pod, floyd is all but freaking out, and branch is silent and gray.

things are more subdued after that; john and clay get more serious with their younger two brothers, floyd loses a lot of his energy for things and mostly just tries to make sure branch is sleeping and fed, and branch... he's a shell of his former self. he refuses to speak, let alone sing, convinced he'd only get his other brothers taken. he pours all of his focus on planning his hideout bunker, refusing to try and play with other kids or go along with his brothers' activities.

it gets a little better over time, as the initial grief fades. branch is still gray and refusing to speak, but he is slowly talked into acting like a kid every once in a while. his brothers also get better over time, john and clay's fun sides and floyd's energy slowly returning. john pushes himself to be better faster, determined to be there for his brothers, but it does lead to clay and him getting into more arguments, and floyd sees right through his facade most of the time. but it gets better, and branch's old colors even begin to return, albeit slightly.

with spruce, he gets taken to the bergen castle, where he manages to escape the bergen's hold. he has a little cat and mouse chase, but he squeezes into a hole in the walls and gets away. in the chase, though, he lost his pathway out, and all of the bergens are looking for him, so he can't escape right away. he's forced to hunker down and wait, so he starts exploring to find a way out.

his main hiding space ends up down in the basement, close to bridget's room. he doesn't dare let her know about him, but he does listen in on her struggles with her work and emotions.

he makes a few attempts to escape over the next while, but each time ends up with him being chased back into the wall. he manages to figure out his escape path, at least, but all of his attempts are squashed one way or another. one of his attempts to escape nearly goes wrong as chef catches him and almost kills him with her knife, but he manages to move away so all she catches is his tail, causing him to lose most of it.

a couple of years after spruce is taken, the escape tunnels are finished. john does his best to keep all of them together, but when they get out on the other side, clay is missing. john tries to go back in to find him, but the tunnels start to collapse and he's pulled out of there without clay. they wait, and wait, until king peppy begins to leave, meaning there aren't any more trolls to save.

the brothers are devastated; john blames himself for losing track of clay and basically shuts off, and branch loses any color he'd gotten back. with john near unresponsive, floyd takes charge of keeping them with the group and such, distracting himself from his grief.

spruce hears about the trolls disappearing from his place in the wall, and while he's glad they seem to have escaped, it seriously deters him from trying to escape himself, as he's not sure he could find them. he loses hope, which means he loses his colors.

clay, meanwhile, managed to escape the tunnels with viva. he wants to go back to find his brothers, unsure of if they made it out, but viva stops him. he's forced to hope for the best, as he and viva find the other trolls who were separated, forming the group that becomes the putt-putt trolls.

everything is... hard, for the first few years. branch's anxiety and paranoia only gets worse, and john dory is zoned out most of the time, so floyd is forced to be the one in charge, making sure his brothers are taken care of and doing whatever he can to help with setting up the new village. floyd eventually gets sick of it and encourages john and branch to build branch's bunker, figuring it'll keep them busy. it works, and john slowly comes back to himself while helping branch dig and plan.

spruce is pretty lost back in the castle; he knows the place like the back of his hand now, but he kind of resents it because he just wants to be back with his brothers. he's spent a lot of time near bridget by proxy, and one night when she's despairing over her feelings and workload, he accidentally gives himself away. to his surprise, she isn't as eager to catch him as every other bergen, and is more curious about how he'd escaped for so long. the two end up talking more; spruce finds himself worrying about her like an older brother, and she makes a point of sneaking him more food and other things he needs where she can in return for his company.

at some point, spruce nearly gets caught again, getting cornered by one of the cooks- the chef is exiled by this point- who nearly kills him again. the side of his face and his ear get caught and injured pretty badly before he can get away, and he manages to get to bridget's room before collapsing. bridget is wildly alarmed and does her best to patch him up, but the injury scars and his hearing is damaged on the one side. still, he's incredibly touched by her care for him, and while he's not as bright as he used to be, his colors do come back.

back in the village, john and branch build most of the bunker together, floyd pitching in where he can while also working on his music and running errands and such. when branch is older and more independent, john decides to start making trips back to the tunnels in an attempt to find clay. floyd isn't thrilled, worried that john is still stuck in the past and not letting himself heal, but he can't really stop him. john doesn't have much luck anyways.

floyd himself is struggling a lot of the time under the pressure of taking care of branch and john while also maintaining a social status and dealing with his own grief, and his colors dull slowly over the next several years. it's gradual, to the point it's hard to notice, so john isn't super perceptive to it. eventually, though, floyd gets sick of john ditching them all the time to dig in the tunnels and they argue, and floyd finally blurts all of his struggles in the heat of the argument. he crumbles, the last of his color fading, and john feels awful. he does his best to apologize and comfort him, and promises he's going to take care of them properly and stop going back to the tunnels, stop being stuck in the past when the present needs him.

i don't have much planned between that and the start of the first movie tbh. branch stays gray and silent, john does his best to care for his brothers, floyd does gain dull colors again at some point and keeps up with his solo career and is probably the most social of the three of them. spruce is kinda just surviving in the castle walls. clay's doing hot girl putt putt shit. etc

movie 1 is fairly the same to start. the party lures the chef in and trolls are captured, but it includes floyd, who attended the party to be polite, and john, who tried to go save him. branch and poppy go after them and branch is even less inclined to put up with her shenanigans along the way. im not gonna lie i haven't managed to figure out much of any of the movies from there.

i know that spruce reunites with his bros while they're trying to rescue the snack pack and such, and is a major advocate for trolls and bergens not being as different as they think.

between movies 1 and 2, about a month before 2 starts, floyd sets off for a gig at mount rageous for his solo career stuff, which :) is fine :)

i don't have much else figured out yet for some reason it is eluding me way more than any other au has so. i'll figure it out aksdjhjkhdjfh

[skatingbi]

WELCOME TO PART 3 OF MY SANJI WITH HETEROCHROMIA SERIES!!!!

Oh my god. Yall are insane. 700+ Notes for part one of this series alone is crazy (Crazy? I was- *gets shot*). So heres part 3. I'll probably have to publish all this onto AO3 soon bc shits getting outta hand, but I like posting on this silly little site so I'll still be posting on here.

Uhhh this was posted WAY later than I anticipated bc i had a gnarly depressive episode and had to enroll into uni, but there aint no way id abandon this series, its too fun and i love experimenting with my baby writing style as i call it.

Okay thats it, just thank u all sm for enjoying my silly little series :) u guys are so sweet!!

P.S. Constructive criticism is OKAY! I havent written fanfic in like...10 years so since middle school. Im a baby at this and I understand if I may have several errors so pls lemme know if theres grammar mistakes!

Sanji With Heterochromia Series Part 3 below 🔻

Sanji lied. He does like the idiot. More than he's willing to admit. A few days after their conversation, Zoro distances himself. It leaves a nasty feeling in his gut similar to nausea but different from actually wanting to throw up. It feels apprehensive. He's waiting for something, but he doesn't know what yet. Sanji hates it. He hates how confused he is and how much he actually wants Zoro to touch him again. He hates the burning linger of scarred knuckles on his cheekbone that follows him wherever he goes.

He hates these feelings because he never learned how to really process them. He doesn't know if he has to blame himself, his shitty excuse of a father, or Zeff. Well, maybe not Zeff. The old man had enough on his plate while raising him as it was. Sanji decides to blame it on Judge because honestly, the root of most of his issues stems from that shitty old man anyway. Placing the blame on someone does little to actually help, but it's a distraction from his growing realization of how much he cares for Zoro.

He cares for Zoro. No, he holds an unreasonable amount of affection for the scarred swordsman that haunts his thoughts now more than ever. Fuck questioning sexuality when it's undeniable that he's absolutely whipped for the big idiot. Theres no room for denial anymore, not when his touch had become branded across Sanji's skin for the foreseeable future.

Stress cooking does little to soothe him and it's the same with smoking. At least Luffy gets to enjoy snacks to his hearts content. Its the little things, he tries to tell himself. He also reflects on his conversation with Zoro. How he honestly felt afraid of what he felt when the swordsman confronted him. He felt afraid of someone genuinely caring for his emotional wellbeing. He's anxious over what that means, what it would do to him if Zoro truely meant what he said. All the things voiced about him and the implications that he's...handsome in the eyes of Zoro.

Sanji is emotional. It comes with him being sentimental as well. He's the black sheep of his biological family in every way. He loved too hard, and got hurt too fast. He loved even when it ended in betrayal. Secretly, he loves unconditionally. What would happen if he loved Zoro like that, and what if it already happened and he's too late to stop it? Would Zoro hurt him just like everyone else has? Would he be pushed away eventually after the thrill of their theoretical short lived relationship?

It keeps him up at night, that conversation replaying in his head as he stares at Zoro's sleeping silhouette. He falls asleep to his breathing, echoing throughout the room over everyone else's breath and snores. He wakes up every morning before the sun greets him and pretends nothing happened in his dreams where Zoro's gentle touch and admiration lingers softly over his mind.

Zoro knows. Well, not exactly. He's not a mind reader like how Luffy seems to be, but he knows that distancing himself from Sanji is actually doing the opposite of what he thought it would do. At this point, the swordsman isnt sure where to go from here.

Sanji's actions contradict his words. Sanji stares at Zoro. Not so much that it's s uncomfortable but it's enough to be noticeable. Sometimes he swears he can see Sanji's eyes dart across his face and down to his lips before looking away. It's confusing. Didnt Sanji hate Zoro's advances towards him? Because thats what they were in hindsight.

Zoro was unconciously flirting with the cook in his own weird way. And yeah, he's a little stupid for not realizing the implications behind his actions at first, but it all started as genuine curiosity. He didnt mean for it to affect their rivalry. Now, he's not sure where to go from here.

It's driven him between a rock and a hard place and unforfunately for him, Nami decides to intervene again. This time, Nami drags Zoro to her and Robin's shared room on the Sunny for privacy and possibly interrogation. He's certain that this time he wont be able to escape. Unfortunate.

"Okay, so heres how this is gonna go," Zoro and Nami are now seated across from each other, where theres two beds and enough room for decent sized dressers on each side. Zoro sits on what he assums is Robin's bed with his arms crossed, "You will tell me everything- And i mean it! I will know if youre lying -and I will help you. Im sick and tired of you both being miserable and gay! It's giving everyone second hand embaressment." She demands, narrowing her eyes with a challenge for Zoro to protest or say no.

Zoro is smart enough to know what is and isn't a losing battle. This is one of those. Nami can be terrifyingly persistent once she sets her mind on something, and today it seems to be resolving the weird and awkward tension between him and Sanji. The swordsman resigns himself to his fate quickly and prepares himself to be trapped here on Robin's bed for the foreseeable future.

"Fine witch," Zoro sighs, "But if you tell anyone I will not be responsible for my actions." He huffs out in acceptance for his inevitable interrogation.

"Oh please like that'll actually scare me. Plus besties never snitch." Nami rolls her eyes. She gets comfortable on her bed and look at zoro expectantly. He rolls his eyes and relaxes his posture a bit.

Zoro starts talking, beginning with the first instance of his realization of Sanji having dual colored eyes, leaving out a lot of "unimportant" details. He mentions the second, and the third instance, and their conversation from a few days ago and how he tried to respect Sanji's establishment of a boundary and how he's confused now that Sanji stares at him. Nami listens with her chin resting on her fist and nodding along the way, surprisingly not interrupting once. He finishes speaking and he knows his face is red with embaressment, but he feigns nonchalance and waits for Nami's input.

"Zoro," Nami sighs, "Youre the dumbest bitch I know." She says while giving the man a look of sympathy, but not one that actually means it. More like the look of someone who is so incredibly done with your shit that they have no choice but to tell you so.

"What the fuck, Nami!? Im not dumb!" The swordsman retorts loudly.

"Anyways," his best friend ignores his arguing in favor of getting to the task at hand, "Luckily, this is fixable. For making the entire crew feel awkward for two weeks, I'm adding a 200 percent tax increase to your debt." She smiles mischeviously, and thats when Zoro realizes that one, he's never getting out of debt, and two, he's been forced to accept Nami's help in unfucking up his unconcious attempts to flirt with Sanji.

"First order of business is that you have absolutely no game." Nami begins with a shit eating grin to match the absolutely insulting statement. Zoro briefly reconsiders their friendship.

"Shut the fuck up I obviously do." He rolls his eyes. Nami gives him the look. The one where her eyebrows are raised and her chin is tilted down slightly, matching the frown. It's that look she makes when she's trying to say 'Are you sure?' or 'Reconsider what you just said.' and it grates at Zoro's already increasing agitation.

He decides not to entertain her with a reply.

"Anyway," Nami sighs, massaging the space between her eyes with her thumb and forefinger to stave off a growing headache, "Im teaching you how to flirt. No, you cannot work out in front of Sanji- dont give me that look you muscle brained idiot!" She says while looking at Zoro's ever increasing looks of annoyance and audacity, because first of all, no he definitely was not going to do that, and second of all, it could hypothetically work. Probably.

"Fine," He huffs. He'll let the witch do whatever. It's not like theres anyone else he can talk to on the ship about this anyway, "No promises that I'll actually do what you tell me."

"Fucking- oh my god why am I friends with you?!" Nami complains before flopping down on her bed, groaning loudly at Zoro's malicious cooperation. Zoro basks in the momentary power he has in this situation.

For the next few hours, Nami allows Zoro to stay in the womens quarters for the sole purpose of learning how to actually flirt. He's not sure if shes a reliable source, being a lesbian and also having a girlfriend already, but if he voiced this opinion out loud the redhead would probably kick him out. He only restrains himself because this room is the only one so far where he feels the least amount of awkwardness regarding his situation with Sanji.

Robin stops by every now and then and gives him a smile. It doesnt make him feel very comfortable but it's the thought that counts. She doesnt say anything about him being there, anyway. He makes an effort to at least not lay on the bed he's sitting on, though. He may be lazy but he does hold enough respect for the women in the crew to not fuck with their shared safe space.

Suddenly, it's the evening and dinner is around the corner. Nami shoves a barely enlightened mossy swordsman out of the womens bedroom to finally be free of that headache. Also known as a crash course to flirting with your rival/friend/whatever the fuck else they got going on.

Zoro makes his way to the gallery, taking his time to look out and observe the oncoming sunset that bathes the sky in shades of pink, orange, blue, and yellow. It would be a pretty sight to fall asleep to, he thinks, but the cook would kick his ass off the ship if he decides to sleep through dinner again.

Entering the gallery, everyone except Nami is already there. She's right behind him a second later and taking her seat at the kitchen table.

Numerous conversations are heard as food is served. Franky and Usopp are wildly talking about different types of projectiles the sunny could use, Nami and robin are talking amongst each other in low voices, giggling in between sentences. Chopper and luffy are laughing together, and Zoro goes to sit next to luffy like he usually does. Just as he sits down, the cook lands a kick to his mid back, making Zoro scowl.

"The fucks that for!?"

Sanji rolls his eyes while placing plates of food down for the crew, "For being late, dumbass."

"Nami is late too!"

"And? She'd never be late on purpose, Marimo." as Sanji speaks, he dodges the hilt of Zoro's sword to his side instinctively and has the audacity to give a cheeky grin.

Dinner passes by normally. Everyone's loud conversations meld together gradually and soon everyone except Sanji and Zoro leave. Zoro takes his usual spot beside the cook, drying dishes and leaving them on a towel afterwards so they can both put them away.

Zoro has half the mind to bring up Sanji's staring, but decides against it. It leaves the air silent, neither him nor Sanji speaking up as they finish their side work for the night. Even then, Zoro's unable to speak when Sanji immediately leaves afterwards without a word.

The kitchen feels empty without their bickering, and Zoro is determined to bring that life back into it. He just needs to figure out how.

Despite Nami's advice, Zoro has an idea. If the idiot cook doesnt see what he sees (His pretty face first of all, but Zoro thinks of his strength too. How Sanji easiely brushes off conflict like it's nothing despite the injuries that'll heal far faster than his own), then he'll make him see it. Frilly words never were Zoro's style, anyways.

One night before they all go to sleep and Zoro takes night watch, he corners the blond in the bathroom. Nami would probably be kicking his ass because of his timing, but a mirror is needed for his plan to work and the bathroom is the only place with one other than the women's bedroom.

When Zoro enters, Sanji turns to look at him before going back to washing his hair, his back towards Zoro. "Leave me alone, Moss, I'm im not in the fuckin mood," He grumbles to Zoro, who stands there waiting for Sanji to stop talking.

"Nope, I need a mirror for this and for you to listen for five minutes." Zoro replies, and when Sanji turns to argue his protests are gone from his lips when he sees a look of determination. Confused, annoyed, and also curious, Sanji doesn't reply.

Zoro walks up to Sanji until he's standing right behind him. The swordsman moves to kneel so they're relatively at the same height, but the stool makes Sanji slightly taller as he sits there and eyes Zoro warily.

"Whats going on with you, Moss? I'm trying to wash my hair." Sanji says, and Zoro can tell an insult dies on his tongue when he places his hands on Sanji's shoulders.

Zoro turns Sanji in front of the mirrior in the bathroom, the stool Sanji is seated on creaking lightly and scratching against the tile. Sanji remains speechless, still unable to brush off Zoro's palms on his bare shoulders like how he'd usually do.

"Tell me what you see, cook" He says, uncharacteristically soft underneath the edge his voice always seems to have. Sanji flinches when the swordsman's calloused hands tuck his frings behind his ear, displaying his face to them both.

"What the hell is up with you? Did Luffy hit your head too hard?" Sanji furrows his eyebrows at the mirror and looks at Zoro. Zoro huffs and rolls his eyes.

"Just tell me what you see about yourself, shit cook, I'll leave ya alone after or whatever." He grumbles back, the baritone of his voice vibrates against Sanji's back. It reminds him of Zoro's compliment, his face too close to his while they stand on the deck of the Sunny just days ago. He chooses to ignore how it makes him shiver.

He looks at himself in the mirror, and his first instinct is to look away. Zoro, being the perceptive bastard that he is, notices and squeezes his shoulders in a way thats strangely reassuring.

"It doesnt have to be fancy, cook, I know you like to use big words 'n shit so don't make your brain fuckin explode." Sanji bristles a bit at that but bites back a nasty insult so he can entertain Zoro's weird exercise on his own self reflection.

In the mirror he always sees his mom at first, but with both eyes uncovered and his hair pushed back for once, he sees himself. The first thing he sees is his eyebrows and eyes. He decides not to bring up his eyebrows.

"Well, for your information I see my eyes, but you already know that."

Zoro stays silent, and Sanji shuffles in his seat. He's suddenly aware he was literally in the middle of rinsing his hair of shampoo a few minutes ago and the entire situation is both awkward and uncharacteristic of Zoro in multiple ways. It's out of character, and he should have kicked out the moss ball when he had the chance, but now in the too small bathroom of the Sunny he feels like it's only him and Zoro. It leaves a weightless feeling in his chest, settling in with the creeping anxiety of looking at his own reflection. The contrasting feelings make him hesitate before he speaks.

"I see.." He hesitates, not knowing exactly what Zoro is getting from this or what he wants to hear, "My eyebrows, I guess. Wait, you've never seen both at once." Sanji chuckles at that, because his eyebrows are certainly something. The curl points in the same direction, but it's unnoticeable with how he wears his hair.

"Yeah, they're weird as fuck." Zoro mumbles, and the blond has to laugh or else the swordsman's voice would get to his head.

"Okay, I also see freckles. Those are new. Only started showing up when I joined you all." And Sanji now notices how the freckles cluster on the bridge of his nose, his cheekbones, and his shoulders. They're scattered everywhere else on his body.

Sanji starts to realize the point of Zoro's questioning now. He looks at the fogged mirror, just visible enough to notice how his blush not only spreads across his cheeks but also down his neck. Embarrassing. This whole situation is embarrassing not only because of where they are but also because he's realizing that Zoro is trying to make a point that is too close to unearthing his insecurities. He would have expected this from Luffy, but sometimes he forgets how Zoro's intelligence is masked behind his swordsmanship and how much he sleeps during the day.

And he's naked, but honestly thats the least of his problems at the moment.

"I see my hair, I guess?" Sanji tries to only focus on his face. Its not easier, but it also sets up a mental boundary. Zoro hums, looking at Sanji through the mirror. Sanji hesitates before speaking again, "My hair is actually wavy," He thinks about his mom's wavy blonde hair, and how he always thought it looked pretty even before she passed, "Its damaged, though. Straightened to hell and back with one of those hot combs."

Sanji thinks back to the hot combs. They were old as shit, the kind that needed to be heated up with a flame. The memories make him chuckle a bit, and Zoro smiles back. The same smile he wore when they sparred on the deck, with his dimples visible yet again to confirm to Sanji that he does have them.

His smile makes his heart skip a beat, like drums he'd hear in one of those old instrumental CDs he kept in his room as a kid. Before he has the chance to back away, to push Zoro out the door and forget this ever happened, Zoro straightens his back again.

He turns in his stool to look up at Zoro and he's not sure what the swordsman sees right now, but he's afraid to ask as his gaze is soft. So damn soft as he looks at him and his hand reaches again to pull his hair hair back over his eye like it was before. Stringy strands of heat damaged locks fall back into place.

Then he leaves. He just...leaves. The damn idiot just turns around and walks out the door like nothing even happened.

Thats the second time this has happened yet the first where Sanji is the one on the receiving end of it, and it makes him grab his towel to bunch it up in his fists and let out a scream into it as he processes everything. He processes how he was forced to notice how Zoro looked at him, and it was Zoro's own weird fucking way of saying "You're beautiful".

"He's so fucking ridiculous oh my god.." Sanji mumbles into the towel. His hair routine is officially long forgotten.

[ghosttalksalot]

if you know me you know i LOVE a real spidery peter. natural web production and all. ESPECIALLY when wade loves it.

starting this post off with a real quick spider lesson. you can skip to the next paragraph, but it explains the way i write peter here a bit. most spiders have what are called 'slit sense organs.' these are on their legs and bodies, and they allow them to detect what's on their web without seeing with their eyes. so they can detect the difference between prey getting caught, a leaf falling into the web, and a breeze. anyway~

peter might have some kind of an anxious habit, maybe he tries not to, its a little embarrassing. well, maybe not embarassing... but he definitely doesn't want people to know because they definitely would not get it. but after a real hard day when hes still feeling a little jumpy, he will weave a web. nothing CRAZY... just a little something over his bed and connected to the door and the close walls so he knows whats going on. its not CRAZY... its just different. there's a reason he's not open about it.

regardless, if he doesn't make it big enough to lay on that day he'll have his hand resting against it, just so he knows if anything happens in his room. he jumps a little less hearing ac turn on if he feels the breeze through the web as well, can't convince himself its something else. after all, it won't be there forever, it's just to reassure him for now. sometimes after a whole lot of people try to kill you, you want some reassurance.

so now he's getting closer with wade. he trusts him enough to have had him over, but he's not yet shared his name or face. he knows deadpool could have long since found him if he wanted to, so he figures going a little out of order doesn't matter. wade clearly intends on letting peter share as he's ready, which is a slightly unexpected but nonetheless appreciated kindness.

before patrol happened, wade told him he would bring pizza over that night. sounded great at the time, free food was always great, but with everything that happened that night he'd quickly forgotten. he's "relaxing" - he could hardly be more tense, doesn't quite seem right to call it relaxing - in his anxiously woven web, and three things go through his mind when he hears the window unlatch.

first, he's excited to get semi-unexpected pizza. second, he hopes wade didn't get mushrooms AGAIN. third, oh my god oh my fuck he's unmasked in a giant embarrassing web. that's one too many things to fix and far too little time to do so. his instincts take over and before the window is open, he leaps to his feet and pulls his mask over his face. guess deadpool gets to see him in a shirt and basketball shorts tonight, but it surely won't be the first thing he notices.

wade drops in through the window with five pizza boxes. the pizza smells amazing but peter is definitely not thinking about that. deadpool is frozen still, and for maybe the first time its almost seems that he's thinking before he speaks.

"i can... i can definitely explain this"

"webs... this is...."

"yeah, i know, it's weird, it's just been a long day, and i can-"

"i told you i was bringing pizza, what are you trying to catch bugs for?" the grin is now evident in wade's voice. peter groans.

"that's not what im doing, wade."

"really? because this is some excellent craftsmanship. if i were a bug i would definitely wander my way into this to get eaten by the big scary spider." wade plucks a strand of the webbing experimentally before semi-carefully placing down the pizza boxes and throwing his arms up in celebration. "and look! your hunt is successful! i didn't think to put bugs on the pizza but-"

"no, no. that's good. no bugs on pizza" peter's head is in his hands. "just sit down wade."

"on the web?"

"just sit."

"on the web it is!" wade plops down and peter flinches slightly at the movement in the web.

"be careful, will you? i can feel the vibrations in the web." wade slowly turns to him, wide eyes and excitement evident. peter takes the opportunity to take two of the pizza boxes. luckily, both of the ones on top just have pepperoni, and not whatever hellish combination wade asked the poor pizza man for today.

"am i allowed to ask?"

"you get two questions only. i won't answer more." wade thinks for a moment before settling on his first.

"why the web if not for bugs? because it really would be great for bugs, you drew me right in the window and im not even a-"

"so i know what comes into my room. i only do it after a bad night. next."

"...am i prey now, because im in the spider-man-web?"

"no, wade."

"will you still eat me if i ask nicely?"

"no, wade."

"HA! that was three answers." wade chuckles, proud of himself, and peter rolls his eyes under the mask.

"you're not... bothered by all this? i mean. it's a giant.... spider.. man.. web."

"nah. ...it's cool. i dig the weird spidery shit. web me up, spidey, if you catch my drift." wade waggles his eyebrows under the mask. peter groans grabs the nearest soft object to hurl it at him as wade laughs loudly.

although, peter supposes, if anyone were to find him in his...spider-man-web.... he'd rather it be wade. something about the merc's ability to never be truly shocked by his "spidery shit" came across as sincerely nonjudgemental. in that way, he felt comfortable with wade in a way he didn't with anyone else. he could relax and be himself, even the parts that were weird.

"what are you smiling for, spides?" wade puffed up his chest. "finally appreciating my excellent attempts at spider-seduction?"

"nah, it's just good pizza." peter took another bite and rolled his eyes at wade for the millionth time, this time because of his dramatic pouting. although he was sure he'd regret admitting it, he didn't mind having deadpool around. if anything, he enjoyed wade's company more than that of most people. he definitely could not admit that one. not now, at least. maybe, in the future, though. when wade can see his smile as he says it, and when wade can call him peter in his response. maybe then. for now though, he's just happy to eat pizza with him and not feel judged. this is good.

[ghost : im not happy with this one tbh... i love the idea but not the execution. ill revisit it in the future. here's this for now]

[jesterthestar]

☆ | HELLOO !! Im so so sorry for being so inactive ! Education has me in a lock hold , but im finally on holidays so I'LL FINALLY BE POSTING MORE .. it's only a week though. 😭😭 THANK YOU SM FOR BEING ACTIVE WHILE I WAS OFF.

♱   | Headcanon name: Reader is a new upper moon and they look like a child despite being 100+ years old or more and they are super quiet and barely talk with others. :33

♡ | warnings: none ( maybe Douma being a menace.) , GN reader ( pronouns: you/yourself/they/them )

Kokushibo

Didn't care at first , come on it's not out of the ordinary for him. He does not care about most of the upper moons and sees them as meer profits for Muzan and of course himself.

But when he found out how you looked ... this man was confused.

Yea ! Kokushibo is super intellegent and saw some wild shit .. but you ? You seemed like an anamoly to him. It was mostly because of your build , the way you looked like a child just made him a bit confused. He knew demons could take any form but come on , they could not make it to an upper moon , stop :((.

He just had some kind of rebuild of his whole emotions and he couldn't help but over observe you , your behaviour and you overly "anxious" quietness. He found it .. refreshing , considering most of the upper moons being overly fixated on strength and it was even more uncanny for him because you were so .. SO MATURE.

Would use you to guilt trip the other upper moons when they started bickering ( honestly deserved.)

Wouldn't talk with you unless you approached him first , but wouldn't turn down your offer.

Douma

Oh god ... where do i even start ... HE ADORES YOU.

You're just so cute with your tiny little arms , tiny little legs and squishy little cheeks , he would be all over you. ( would leave alone Akaza for a bit ) and you couldn't really say anythinf because you were too shy to even talk back to anyone ... Douma just ate it up.

He would always make everyone only talk about appropriate topics because your little child ears are listening and they're perked up and they are OUTT HEREEE , so don't ruin this "innocent" child. ( you're not :33 )

Is he doing this just to make you upset and angry ? Very possibly , but your self control is insane so it would take a few centuries to make you lash out. He knows it , but HE'S NOT GIVING UP.

"..Look at you !! Who's a cute little thing ? You are, yes you are !!.."

Akaza

Gave no shits abut you once you first joined. He rarely interacts with the other upper moon so why the hell would he want to interact with YOU of all people ?

Wanted to fight you nontheless ... though was a bit hesitant , his morals are higher than that.

I don't have much ideas for him , i feel like it would depend on your rank and the fight that you put up.

If you were a higher rank and put up a good fight for him then him he would already respect ypu but if you were lower than him ... then gah damn you will now be his favorite , it would be kind of humiliating for him , but he wouldn't help but feel immense respect for you. ( cause you're all small and tiny but still beat him )

And if you failed ... he just didn't care .. ok yea , just .. you're there , he knows , not he does not care about you being quiet , no he does not. Rarely talks with you.

♱   ᜔  ׅ ꯭ tysm for reading , ily all sm ! ^_^