#simple things meant so much more back then

[bbyangyl]

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚— EASE YOUR MIND- DEKU | IZUKU MIDORIYA

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚— description: after inviting you to an event, izuku has a difficult time deciding if "a date" would be the right term to use.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚— w.c: 2.1k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚— tags: sfw (however, my blog isn't!), fluff, very soft, deku is basically in love with you but overthinks like CRAZY

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚— a/n: here's something that has been sitting in my drafts for a while now. I actually have a lot written so you'll be seeing a lot from me soon :) I just need time to edit a few things. please stay tuned!

deku was sweating

he was sweating so much that his palms felt drenched, struggling to discreetly wipe them against his pants, hoping you wouldn’t notice. you walked beside him, wearing a smile that outshined the sun.

he doesn’t know how he got here, with you. the only thing he could recall from the events of his spiraling and panicking brain when he asked if you wanted to go with him to a “history of heroes” event, where he scored two tickets for, were your bright, excited eyes and lovely smile when you agreed to go with him.

and then, he was sure he messed it all up when, for some reason, his mouth moved faster than his brain and said “I’m so glad! It’s a date then”

he didn’t mean for the words to be heard aloud. and through his stammering voice and flushed cheeks, he tried so hard to make an excuse; to distract you from the fact that he just called it a date. which meant he asked you out on a date.

but instead of gazing at him in confusion or uncertainty, (or worse, disgust), you simply giggled, nodding as you gathered your belongings before heading out to the dorms.

“it’s a date” you said, walking away from his frozen figure that decided to stay in place on its own accord, processing the three words you repeated back to him.

you said yes, despite him calling it a date, but did you really consider it a date? or did you know he accidentally called it that and you just went along with it, even though he truly did want to go on a date with you. but he never thought you’d ever go on a date with him. and even if he intentionally asked you out, he wasn’t sure a first date with you to a hero event was good enough. You seemed excited for it, should he plan something else?

as he looked up at your retreating figure, he noticed the way you look back at him, with soft eyes and a pretty smile before turning around, continuing to walk away.

he felt his brain short circuit, as you leave him with nothing but blooming red cheeks, shaky legs, and thoughts of you.

as the day of the event arrives, after thirty minutes spent rehearing how to approach you and what words to say, a soft knock unexpectedly echoes on his own door, before being opened slightly.

and he begins to sweat.

there you were, in a cute sundress, looking at him with such a sweet expression on your face. he felt his hands slightly trembling, his heart practically soaring through the air in a fluttering mess. he felt like a fish, mouth opening and closing as he tried to think of what to say. anything at all! at least a hello.

he didn’t trust himself, however. deku had a tendency to ramble and mumble, and he had an small feeling that a simple ‘hello’ would turn into ‘you’re the most beautiful girl in the world’, or something more than he was ready to admit

it was difficult to form words anyways, when just the sight of you is enough to leave him breathless, unable to think about anything else but the fact that you were here, ready to go out with him…

to an event that he had called a date, and you seemed happy to agree...

he felt his face burn, and one part of him believed that the temperature could’ve rivaled todoroki’s quirk.

“hey! I’m sorry if I interrupted you, I just wanted to let you know that I’m ready! If you’d like I can wait in the common area while you’re done.” you say, playing with the straps of your backpack.

he laughs nervously. “o-okay, yeah. I just need to grab a few things and we can head out” he feels his voice get shaky towards the end, and quickly he turns around, flustered, as he pretends to try and find something on top of his bed.

he hears a small laugh from you, before announcing you’ll be waiting for him over there. as your footsteps indicate you walking away, deku immediately lets out the tremulous breath he didn’t realize he was holding in.

the thought of being around you, without the confirmation of what this “outing” was considered to be, caused his nerves to skyrocket. he hated second-guessing, and couldn’t bear the embarrassment he would feel if he treated today as a date, only to find out you thought he was joking, or vise versa.

despite the inner conflicts in his overworking mind, he, at least, was certain of one thing. he invited you and you said yes, and you were now waiting for him in the common area.

with a small, unsteady sigh, he starts to relax a bit. everything will be fine. he’ll take you to the event, and you’ll both have an amazing time, free from his overthinking.

at least, that was the plan.

it’s a bit easier said than done, especially in this circumstance, where his mind is on endless overdrive, hanging out with a girl who practically hung the stars in his eyes.

he felt awkward, realizing that not a single word had been exchanged between the two of you since leaving the dorms. he tried to think of something to say, but the probability of stumbling over his words as he tried to start conversation was unfortunately high.

each step he took felt unnatural, as if every movement was a forced effort, desperately trying to match the light, effortless way you walked beside him toward the museum.

it only made things more complicated when deku realized he couldn’t even bring himself to look at you; it was too overwhelming. but the brief glances he stole, seeing you smile softly as you took in your surroundings, only made the fluttering in his heart grow stronger.

he was sweating

but luckily for him, you were the one to break the ice.

“y’know, I’m actually a bit shocked you invited me out, midoriya” you say softly, glancing at the ground with a small smile on your face. deku turns to you, feeling his hands trembling against his side, wondering if you’ll bring up his embarrassing ‘it’s a date’ declaration.

“what…uhm…what do you mean?” he asks, feeling his voice crack. immediately he feels his face grow hot, watching as you glance at him with a small laugh, no trace of teasing, just amusement.

“it’s just, we’re friends, obviously-“ you begin to clarify, and he can’t help but feel his heart drop slightly, despite that being the facts. “but…I don’t know, you were always so close with ochako, iida, todoroki and our other classmates. we don’t interact as much.”

it was the truth. deku never had much trouble talking or hanging out with his classmates. he was extremely close with a few and, at the very least, felt comfortable around all of them, even with bakugo. deku was proud of how far he had come from his middle school days, now able to talk freely and be himself. he felt lucky. but with you, things were slightly different.

he always caught himself rehearsing what to say before starting a conversation. he’d stumble over his words, his face flushing red during any interaction. just a glance in your direction was enough to turn him to mush. in some ways, you made him feel like his middle school self again; timid and nervous. but the reasonings couldn’t be more different.

“I actually wanted to get closer to you, but funny enough I was always kinda shy around you.” suddenly, he halts any movement. did that come from him? that wasn’t his voice. his eyes widen as he realizes that came from you. shy? around him? really?

“what?!” It was difficult to wrap his head around the fact. all this time he was so focused on how to interact normally with you, never once did he take the time to analyze any interaction you had with him and deem it as shy. you were always so happy and kind, and anyone with eyes could see how much he fumbled through the smallest of conversations with you. the thought that maybe you were also shy around him too, made his heart skip a beat.

he watched as you turn to him, cheeks blooming a pretty pink, like the petals of a cherry blossom fluttering through the air. “yeah…i mean…we talked every now and then. not as often, but you were always so kind despite our limited conversations. I never really reached out to you because I was always a little nervous around you, unable to get a clear picture of how you felt about me.”

you take a small step forward, and he immediately notices the slight hesitation in your movement, as if there was more you wanted to say but weren’t sure if you should. he catches the way you try to meet his gaze but become a little flustered, and how your fingers fidget with the straps of your book bag.

deku had always been so perceptive; picking up on body language and mannerisms with ease. but he never realized how similar the two of you were in your interactions. he was always focused on not looking like a fool in front of you; a blushing mess. Yet now, seeing the flustered look in your eyes instead, he felt himself melt on the spot, fighting the urge to kiss your cheeks.

“when you invited me to the hero event, I couldn’t help but feel happy! and…I felt over the moon when you called it a date. even if you didn’t mean to call it that l-“ you pause, before giving him a gentle smile “-it still made me very happy.”

he gazes at you, momentarily questioning if his mind is deceiving him, conjuring up a hopeful illusion. but as he watches you nervously bite your lip, awaiting his response, the reality of the moment sinks in. he feels his heart flutter in his chest, and the weight of your words sends a shiver through his entire body. “you wanted it to be a date?”

“Is it weird if I said more than anything?” you confess, shyly looking at the ground with uncertainty and anxiousness. he feels himself physically vibrate with excitement, hearts practically forming in his eyes as he steps closer, unable to hold back the confession on the tip of his tongue.

“I-I want that too! I want this to be considered an actual date!” he exclaims with happiness pouring out of his soul, feeling his cheeks become slightly sore from his smile. you look up at him, a shocked expression on your face as you slowly process his words. he watches in time the way your features soften, beautiful eyes widening slightly as you let out a gentle gasp.

“really?” you ask, as he feels the joy practically radiating off of you. deku nods in confirmation, hands trembling from overwhelming delight. he meets your gently gaze, as you both stare at each other with bashful grins before a small laugh escapes your lips, followed by a domino effect of uncontainable giggles between you and him.

he feels lighter, almost euphoric; his entire body buzzing with warmth that radiates from his flushed cheeks, offering a new kind of comfort he’d never known before. he was always used to feel shy around you, his heart brimming with so much love and admiration that he could barely meet your gaze. but now, that love has multiplied, and all he wants is to lose himself in your eyes for as long as you’ll let him.

you step to the side, offering him one last smile before the two of you begin to walk in sync. it no longer feels out of place. just right.

“can I hold your hand?” he asks, a hint of the familiar shyness still laced in his words. but this time, there’s a newfound confidence beneath it. he’s certain you feel it too as you beam at him, gently intertwining your soft fingers with his calloused, scarred hand.

“you know…I…all this time, I was kinda freaking out! I didn’t know if this was actually a date or not, and I was extremely nervous this whole time. I’m sorry if things were a little awkward when we left the dorms” you look at him with reassurance; an amused giggle leaving your lips as you shake your head.

“please don’t apologize. I couldn’t even tell!”

[babybatss-blog]

DOMESTICS

Sirius black x reader, 1100  words

summary: all you wanted to do was cook Sirius some chicken for dinner, but perhaps things don’t always go your way.

c/w: established relationship, alcohol consumption, swearing and crying, argument between Sirus and Reader. Practically just tame, basic relationship angst that turns into fluff :)

The classic casual Friday night is always a big step in any intimate relationship. Stepping out of uncomfortable outfits and delicate table foods into comfy hoodies and junky snacks creates a whole new level of intimacy with a partner, and can be quite nerve wracking for at least the first few instances. 

But you and Sirius are way past that.

On the first date, you stayed the night at his for two whole days. You met his best friends on that second day, and he met yours just four days later. James said you were funny, and Lily said Sirus was smitten. He admired your comfortableness with him while you appreciated his lack of care towards your groggy state every morning, and a week in you both shared your deepest traumas with each other. On some random Wednesday your parents turned up unannounced in your apartment, which is when he met them both shirtless and slightly hungover (though he concealed the latter expertly).

So, two months later it is entirely expected to have Sirius lounging on your couch, watching some Netflix overproduced action show and as you cook dinner. Usually he prefers taking control of the kitchen because he “likes to spoil his girls”, but he did not impose when you insisted it was your turn to give him some love. The kitchen smells like a variety of spices and mouth-watering flavours, and despite the simple dish you are preparing the kitchen looks like a professional chef is making a world-famous meal. Plates, pots and pans are spread around, ingredients spilled on any and all surfaces and your state decreased to completely dishevelled, huffing and puffing at every slight inconvenience to come your way. “This needs to be perfect for him.” You think, anxiously managing every element with not a moment to spare. Unbeknownst to you Sirus has now snuck over, and softly places his chiselled chin on your shoulder as you peer over the cooking meat.

“Looks raw.” He states nonchalantly, arms creeping around your waist. “I know. It’s not done yet.” You explain bluntly, words leaving your mouth slightly more harsh than you intended. But you don’t take them back, as your focus is entirely taken up by the meal in front of you.

Wait, I thought it was done? What’s it meant to look like if it is done? What does it taste like? What more does it need?

He soon releases you, walking away to the bathroom as he calls out. “Sorry for not wanting to be poisoned I guess!” You huff, opting to not fight back in fear of putting too much energy into something that doesn’t really matter in the scheme of things. You and Sirius are both painfully stubborn when you want to be, and are often laughed at by your friends for getting in ridiculous arguments. Once, you needed to go on a walk and clear your head after the two of you debated which Barbie movie is the best.

As he returns from the bathroom he subtly side eyes the chicken, seeing you have now placed it on a plate ready for serving. Against his better judgment, he calls out, in a half cough half word amalgamation which complains “still raw”. Would it be smart for you to reply? No, of course not! But do you do it anyway? Obviously!

“WELL WHY DON’T YOU COOK THEN MR PERFECT?!” You snap, eyes erratic and wide as you face him. He scoffs, hands placed on the kitchen counter opposite you.

“I’d be happy to, but you didn’t fucking let me!”

”Didn’t let you? I’m not your mother, I’m sorry I wanted to do something nice for you!”

“Well it isn’t nice if I’m too sick to go to work tomorrow!”

“Relax hard ass, you start work at three!” The argument quickly escalates past the point of reasonable, as Sirius’ arms flail widely about and the vegetables are left to burn in the oven.

In a closing statement you call Sirius a “spoilt brat” and he storms off, slamming the bedroom door behind him so he can no longer hear you if you try to apologise. Tears well in your eyes as you look around, realising what just happened truly as your brain finally processes. How can your worst argument be about some stupid chicken? You rush to repair the damage of your distractions to the meal, pulling the vegetables out of the oven as your salty tears fall within. You can barely see through your exaggerated sobs, mad at yourself for all manner of things.

Why did you let his simple comments go to your head? What if he’s right, and the meals a disaster? Will he despise you now for going so off the handle? Is this the last night of your fleeting romance?

You quietly serve up the food as these thoughts run through your head, wiping away gushing tears and snot as you go. Once it’s done, you tentatively go over to the closed door of the bedroom and knock a few times. You hear some shuffles, and the door is opened to reveal an unimpressed Sirus. “Sorry…” You mumble, eyes glued to the wooden floor between you. He pushes past you in silence, grabbing his plate and sitting down on the plush couch. As much as you would like to beg for forgiveness and list all the reasons you should stay together, you don’t deem that important when he pats the space next to him to sit down, handing you a sympathetic yet weak smile. “I know you didn’t mean it.” He finally gets out, eyes drilling into your still shy figure. “I just was trying to help.” “I know. But I didn’t want you to have to worry. I wanted to spoil you; you know?” His hand falls onto your thigh, the other placing the chicken in his hungry mouth. You join him in eating the meal, and reluctantly admit what you wished wasn’t true.

“It’s not fully cooked.” You pout, tears still glossing your eyes. He chuckles, placing his plate down and enveloping you in a hug. “That’s fine gorgeous. UberEats it is.” You pull back and quickly peck his lips, a smile forming on both your faces as you respond.

“Only if it’s Mexican.”

“Deal.”

[chesterfieldblossom]

"AMERICAN WEDDING"

Arthur Morgan x Reader (1k words) "Well you can have my mustang / That's all I've got in my name"

SUMMARY | Arthur and you had been in a discreet relationship, but everyone on the camp knew your commitment. But of course, he wanted to make a bit more official. NOTES | It's really short, like just and idea I had on my notes when I was listening American Wedding by Frank Ocean. But I hope y'all enjoy. Also, dividers by @cafekitsune WARNINGS/TAGS | Oneshot, fluff, wedding proposal, f!reader RATING | Teen

"Well, you can have my Mustang." He drawled, voice low and quiet, as though he didn’t want to disturb the night. "That's all I got in my name."

You glanced up at him, the moonlight casting faint shadows across his face, highlighting the lines of weariness that came with the life he led. His eyes, usually hard and distant, were softer now, vulnerable even. Arthur Morgan was not a man who gave easily, and yet, here he was, offering you what little he had—his horse, his loyalty, his heart.

You had thought about marriage before—when you were younger, when life seemed simpler and oblivious. But the image had always been different: a small church, family gathered, maybe even a white dress. Not this—lying on a dusty cot, surrounded by the wilderness, with Arthur Morgan of all people. But that was the thing about life, wasn’t it? It never turned out quite like you imagined.

"Arthur..." You whispered, unsure of how to respond. The weight of his words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. He wasn’t just talking about his Mustang. This was Arthur’s way of saying everything—his past, his future, his soul. You could feel his uncertainty, the tension in the way his fingers hovered slightly above you bare arm, as if he was waiting for you to make a move, to push him away, to tell him no.

But you didn’t want to. God, you would be out of your damn mind if you say no.

You reached up, placing your hand on his, stilling his gentle caress. His hand was large, warm, and rough from years of hard work. It grounded you, made you feel safe in this world of chaos. "I don’t need a Mustang, Arthur." You murmured, thumb tracing circles on the back of his hand. "I need you."

His breath hitched almost imperceptibly, and for a moment, no one spoke. You could feel his heartbeat, strong and steady, a reminder of the man beneath the outlaw. You could see the boy in he for the first time, a glimpse of your children. You wondered if he ever imagined this for himself, or if he thought he was too far gone for something like love, like commitment.

"I ain’t got much to offer." he finally said, voice hushed, like he was scared the words might break something between you. "Ain’t never been good at... well, any of this. You know that."

You smiled softly, shifting closer to him. "You’re enough, Arthur. Just you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted."

He didn’t speak for a while, just stared at you, as if he were trying to make sense of how someone could want him—just him. The world had not been kind to Arthur Morgan, and in many ways, it had hardened him. But beneath the roughness, the gruff words and guarded glances, there was a man who felt deeply, who cared more than he let on.

As if making a decision, Arthur suddenly shifted beside you, reaching into the pocket of his worn coat. You watched, curious, as he fumbled for a moment before pulling something out—a small, delicate ring. The band was thin, silver, and simple, with no extravagant jewels, but to you, it was the most beautiful thing in the world.

He held it out to you, almost sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. "Picked it up in town a while back." he admitted, eyes flicking up to meet yours. "Didn’t know if you’d... well, if you’d want it. Ain’t much, but it’s real silver."

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart swelling in your chest. The fact that Arthur had gone out of his way to find a ring, something so traditional, so symbolic, meant more than words could express. You could see the way he was looking at you, searching for some kind of approval, some sign that this was right.

"Arthur..." You whispered, the voice breaking slightly. "It’s beautiful."

Without another word, he took your left hand in his, his touch gentle but sure. Slowly, almost reverently, he slid the ring onto your finger. It fit snugly, as though it had been made for you, and the cool metal sent a shiver through your skin. The moment felt timeless, as if you were the only two people in the world, surrounded by the quiet wilderness and the faint glow of the stars.

"There." he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Now it’s official, I guess."

You couldn’t help but smile, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. This was not the wedding you had once imagined, but in every way that mattered, it was better. Arthur Morgan was yours, and you was his, bound not by law or tradition, but by something deeper—something unbreakable.

You leaned forward, pressing your forehead against his, the noses brushing, breaths mingling in the cool night air. "I love you, Arthur Morgan." You whispered, the voice thick with emotion. "More than anything."

He closed his eyes, his arms wrapping around you as he pulled you close, his lips pressing softly to your temple. "I love you too." he murmured, the words coming out rough, like they were foreign to him. But they were real, and that’s all that mattered.

As you rested your head against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing, you looked down at the ring now glinting on your finger. It was simple, yes, but it was yours. Arthur leaned forward, lifting your chin to gave you a kiss. You happily returned, your bodies shifting closer as he embrace you and the lips moved together.

"But Jesus Christ don't break my heart." He whispered. The warm breath brushed on your lips, making you want to kiss him again.

"This wedding ring won't ever wipe off." You promised to him, whispering back.

[pretentious-blonde]

meet the parents

pairing: steve harrington x reader

summary: steve didn't expect things to go smoothly when he introduced you to his parents, but nothing could have prepared him for the rage he felt when they turned their comments towards you

warnings: family drama, alcohol, steve feeling inadequate, steve's father sucks here

a/n: idk if i like how this turned out, but I tried my best

You tugged at the hem of your dress, giving your outfit a once over in the mirror for the last time. You had spent ages rummaging through your wardrobe before you found this one, it’s simple but elegant—enough to make a good impression on Steve’s parents. Whom you were meeting for the first time, tonight. 

They had been nagging him since they returned from their trip, one of many, wanting to meet the girl who he had been seeing in their absence. They insisted on inviting you over for dinner, and based on Steve’s reaction, you knew how much this meant to him. You wanted to look your best. 

The knock on your front door pulls you away from your thoughts. You quickly grab your jacket and scurry down the stairs, slipping your feet into a pair of shoes as you go to greet him. 

He is standing on your front porch, hands buried deep in his pockets as he rocks back on his heels. He reverts his attention to the sound of the door opening. His breath catches in his throat as he drinks in the sight of you, his previous nerves are momentarily replaced with awe at your appearance. God, you looked angelic. 

The world seems to still as he unapologetically stares. The gentle curve of a nervous smile on your lips, the dress hugging your figure just right—it takes a great deal of strength on his behalf not to call the whole thing off. To whisk you away for the evening all to himself, leaving his parents to dine alone. He swallows hard as he composes himself, running a hand through his hair as a lopsided grin graces his features. 

“Honey, you…wow.” He begins, any words that entered his mind seemed unable to articulate how beautiful you looked tonight. “You look amazing.”

A blush creeps up your neck at the compliment, it’s endearing how he still gets tongue-tied around you. “Thanks. Thought I should put in a little effort.”

His fingers twitch at his sides as he faces another dilemma. Wanting to reach out and pull you close, push you back inside and be selfish, but he shoves them deeper into his pockets instead. The anxiety he was feeling about the night ahead was overwhelming, he was dreading it—dreading the way his father would most likely find something to dig at, something to put him down. 

But looking at you now, all dolled up for his sake, he hates it even more. 

He hates that you put effort in for this, when it could have gone to something so much more worthwhile. It was the story of his life, trying so hard time and time again to get their approval, only to be shot down over and over again. He didn’t want to subject you to that. 

The drive there is strangely quiet, except for the faint hum of the radio station that fills the car. His grip on the steering wheel is tighter than it usually was, his eyes trained on the road ahead. His thoughts, however, were miles away. Questions filled his mind about what could happen. What they could say to you. If they made you uncomfortable. Each one was worse than the last, the stress made his chest tighten. 

He brushes them off. How could they not love you like he did? When you’re sitting all pretty beside him, looking so damn perfect. In every way that he is not. 

“You seem quiet,” you say, trying to break the silence. “So, are your parents like, super strict or something?”

He chuckles, but it’s nervous. He has told you bits and pieces about what his family is like. Constant business trips that his mother insisted on tagging along to, holidays without him, calling a few times throughout the week. He had failed to mention how much of a dick his dad could be, especially after a couple drinks. 

“Nah, I mean, they’re not…strict.” His fingers tap anxiously on the steering wheel. “They’re old-fashioned. Like, ‘everything has to be perfect’ kind of way, you know?”

You nod along slowly, mood still playful, not quite picking up on the nerves flowing through the boy next to you. “Damn, I should have brought something, or even baked, huh?”

He laughs now, but the tension still remains in his shoulders. “Honestly, you might be their favourite person after tonight if you did that. I’m pretty sure they like you more than me.”

Your expression falters slightly at that, smile dropping as you reach over to squeeze his hand. “Steve, come on. There is no way that’s true.”

He doesn’t respond, keeping his eyes forward. 

She has no idea.

“Well, if they don’t like me, I’ll get them with my dazzling personality. You fell for it, right?”

That earns you a genuine smile. Yes, he fell for it. He fell damn hard and welcomed it fully. That is why he loathed the idea of bringing you home. Of subjecting you to this dinner. 

“Yeah, you got me good, angel.” He squeezes your hand back. “Hook, line, and sinker.”

His raw honesty renders you silent for a few moments, turning your face to the view outside to hide the flush in your cheeks. He always knew how to do that. Say something so nonchalant that made your knees weak. 

“Just a heads up,” he glances over to you briefly, hand still resting in his as you pull into the driveway of his home. “Just if they say anything…weird, don’t take it seriously.”

“Steve,” you pull your hand away to cup his face, big, brown eyes staring back at you as you reassure him. “I’m sure it will be fine.”

He wants to believe you. He wants to believe you so badly, but the feeling in his stomach only tightens more. In truth, he has no idea how this evening will go. And that terrifies him. 

Steve rounds the car to open your door, holding onto your waist as you head up the stairs to the entrance. He opened the door quietly, stepping aside to let you in. He pauses to take a look at you one last time, almost melting at how the entryway light falls over your face, illuminating your tender smile. He quickly moves to help you with your coat, sliding it off your figure with gentle movements and hanging it on the rack. 

“Shoes too,” he whispers, almost apologetic, his hand gently guiding your gaze toward the carpeted floor.

He had never asked you that before. You raise a brow, amused but willing to comply. “I didn’t realize there was a dress code,” you tease lightly, holding his shoulder and slipping out of your shoes.

He chuckles nervously. “Yeah, just… don’t want you getting into trouble.”

You scrunch your nose at him and smile, but there is something else brewing behind those eyes of his—worry perhaps? You just chalk it up to innocent nerves. I mean, who wouldn’t be slightly anxious to introduce their partner to their parents?

Leading you down the hall, you are greeted with the smell of roast chicken wafting from the kitchen. It’s surprisingly homey, comforting. Tonight might not be so bad after all. 

You step into the dining room, just opposite the open plan kitchen, first locking eyes with Steve’s mother. She gives you a warm smile, which you return. She looks just like him, same eyes, same smile, same kind expression that he always gives you. Her hands are busy on the stove but still when you enter. 

“Oh, you must be Steve’s girlfriend!” She says, her voice cheerful as she wipes her hands on a rogue teatowel. “It’s so lovely to finally meet you.”

“Thank you so much for having me,” beaming as you step forward, leaving Steve’s side for a second. “Everything smells amazing.”

Steve’s dad makes himself known, giving you a curt nod. He sits at the head of the table, relaxed with a beer in his hand which Steve spots immediately. “Glad you could make it,” he tells you, his voice low, but not unkind—for now at least. 

Steve returns to your side once more, a hand on the small of your back, gently guiding you to a seat at the table. This is good, he thinks, allowing a small flicker of hope to spark in his chest. You’re being your usual polite self, and so far, his parents seem…normal. He feels relaxed as his mother places the perfectly roast chicken at the centre of the table, letting out a small breath as he sits down. 

“Oh my gosh,” you exclaim, your face lighting up at the spread. “I love a roast! It’s been so long since I’ve had one.”

His mother blushes, clearly pleased by your praise. “Well, I’m glad to hear it! There is plenty here so please, help yourself.” 

You nod as you pick up the plate of potatoes, Steve picking up the greens, locking eyes as you swap them over. You are pleasantly surprised to see his expression, no longer sour with anxiety. 

“Bet it’s nice to have a home-cooked meal, huh?” Steve’s father takes a swig from his drink before gesturing to the boy at your side. “Kid barely knows how to boil water.”

He lets out a large laugh at his joke, oblivious to the way Steve pauses as he sets down the plate. He forces out a laugh as well, trying to shake it off, but he can’t deny how the joke stings. Especially when it was made in front of you. 

“I mean, I can handle the basics,” he chimes in, trying to defend himself as much as he can without insulting his father. “Eggs, pasta…” He trails off. 

You allow your gaze to wander over to him, your smile faltering as you catch the hurt look in his eyes. His father doesn’t seem to notice—or care at all, really. 

He can cook, he thinks as his eyes are trained on his father. He has cooked for you so many times, and you always said how good it was. The first moment you complimented his food he made it his mission to do it more often. It was something he took pride in. He had to teach himself after all, it’s not like they were ever around to do it, and he couldn’t just live off takeaway pizzas every night. 

He never was in the kitchen when they returned home, his mother always took the reigns there. His jaw tightens as he recalls the countless dinners made alone in his house, too used to the silence that always followed his parents’ absence. 

You set the fork down to the side of your place and turn to him, giving him a look of reassurance that does little to help him. You don’t speak up, but the mix of emotions in your expression makes Steve’s heart lurch. He should have said something, warned you more. Or better yet, come up with an excuse as to why you couldn’t make it tonight. 

His mother was equally as oblivious to the exchange as she carved off another piece of chicken. He doesn’t really care about what his family says about him, he has dealt with much much worse. But it still stings. It stings because it is in front of you. 

The conversation flows well as you all settle into the meal. The chicken was undeniably delicious, the familiar setting of the Harrington house helped soothe you as you chatted politely with is mother. 

“So, what is it you do?” She asks you, tone genuinely curious. 

You finish chewing, wiping your mouth with a napkin before you respond. “I just finished college actually. And I recently got an editing job at the local newspaper. It’s helped me get my first apartment too, so it’s a pretty exciting time.”

Steve can’t help but sit up a little straighter as you speak, his chest filling with a sense of pride that this is the woman he is introducing his folks to. 

That’s my girl, my smart girl.

“Well, isn’t that wonderful!” His mother says, clearly impressed. “You must be so proud of yourself.”

Steve smiled at the knowledge that they approved of you. They might not have approved of him, they made that clearly known whenever they had the chance, but seeing how impressed they were with you—that was enough. He reached across the table, taking your hand in his own and admiring how they looked intertwined in the glow of the dining room. His thumb strokes your knuckles, feeling a smug satisfaction rise up inside of him. You’re smart, capable independent. Everything Steve’s parents valued in a person. He might not be what they wanted him to be but he somehow had you to show for it. He was damn lucky to have you here with him. 

A voice cuts through the warmth he was feeling, a sharp edge bringing him down from his high. “Well, good for you,” his father said, his eyes drifting to your hands. His gaze was cold, calculating. “You know, I’ve always said people with drive go far. Funny how some manage to make it whilst others…don’t.” He gasts a glance at Steve, his voice laced with bitter sarcasm, the same voice that had followed him his whole life. “Guess you lucked out, huh, son? Dating someone with actual ambition.”

The comment hit Steve harder than he cared to admit, the jovial tone from his father did little to soften the blow. His chest tightens as he feels the sting of disappointment, but he can’t help but take the words on board. You are ambitious, you have the whole world at your fingertips. You could do anything you set your mind to and he knew that. He just hoped that when that time came, he would be lucky enough to be cheering you on from the sidelines. 

“Yeah, well,” he begins with a crooked grin. “Guess I’ve got the charm at least.”

The shift in his mood is noticeable to you, you can read him like the back of your hand, the way his smile remains on his face for just a second too long. His father's words were not just a joke, not to Steve. He always doubted himself and his abilities, worried about where he would go in his life. But at the end of the day you were there to support him, whatever decisions he made were his and his alone. 

He tells himself that it’s fine, that he can handle it. Just as long as they don’t go after you, he can take it. He has no problem being the martyr, he has been the punching bag for years and has no problem taking a few more hits.

The way he looks down at his plate makes your chest ache, the way that he acts like this isn’t a big deal. It’s obvious how much it bothers him, no matter how hard he tries to hide it. It hurts you to see him like this—reduced to a quiet, tense version of himself, happy to just keep the peace. 

The clink of silverware continued against the plates as the conversation flowed, finishing up the remainder of dinner, the beer in Steve’s father's glass also gone. He leaned back in his chair, the same look in his eyes that Steve was familiar with, inhibitions mellowed and ready to bite. His eyes narrowed as he observed the both of you, amusement dancing in his gaze like he found the perfect moment to strike. 

“Let me guess,” he began, wiping the edge of his mouth with a napkin before tossing it carelessly onto the table in front. “You’re with Steve because you think you can change him, right? Girls like you always think they can fix a guy like him.”

Steve stiffened beside you, his stomach twisting into a tight knot. He opened his mouth to say something—anything—but the words caught in his throat. For a moment, he felt like a kid again, being told off for something he had no control over. Something he couldn’t change. 

Before he even had time to fully process the insult, you were there. Your tone fast, steady, unfazed. There was no way you would sit there and let that comment go. Not when it was the furthest thing from the truth. 

“I’m not here to change Steve,” you said, your tone calm but resolute. “I’m with him because I love who he already is.”

His heart fluttered in his chest at your words—the way you spoke them. With such unwavering conviction that there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that you meant them. 

His father raised a brow, leaning forward in his chair, sizing you up and clearly enjoying the discomfort he was causing. The act revolted you. You were done with playing nice, you were not going to let him insult you or the one you love. It didn’t matter if they were family. 

“Love, huh?” He scoffed. “That’s cute. But, sweetheart, love doesn’t pay the bills. Steve is not exactly rolling in success here, is he?”

You don’t flinch, not even a little. “I don’t need him to be rolling in anything. He works hard and is more successful than you give him credit for.”

His father barked out a humourous laugh, nowhere near close to finished. “Kind? I’ll give you that. But I’m just saying, girls like you—smart, career-driven, their own place—usually go for someone with a little more ambition.”

You narrowed your eyes at the older man, keeping your voice collected. “Ambition isn’t about titles or money. Steve has plenty of it. He has been through things you couldn’t even understand.”

The tension that settled over the room was tense as you locked eyes. Steve’s mother stared at her husband, you wonder if she wished to say something, or if she also was too scared to challenge the older gentleman. You felt no fear, not when it came to conflict over those you care for. You wouldn’t back down. The more you spoke, the more Steve felt that old, crushing weight of his father’s judgement start to lift from his shoulders. 

“Look,” his father said, not enjoying the pushback. “I’m just telling you what I know. Guys like Steve—they’re nice, sure—but they don’t get you very far. Eventually, you’ll want more, and you’ll leave him just like the last one.’

That one hit hard. Too hard. Steve’s hand clenched under the table, unwanted memories of his past relationship springing to the surface, reopening old wounds. He wanted to make a joke. Wanted to say anything that would get away from this topic. His father noticed how withdrawn he got after Nancy, and now he was throwing it back in his face. He didn’t like weakness, and Steve had never felt more inadequate when that happened. 

“Actually, I’m more than happy with Steve,” you say effortlessly, voice low and confident. “He is one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met. I don’t need to ‘want more’ when I already have everything I could ask for.”

His father’s eyes flickered with something—surprise perhaps? He certainly wasn’t used to being challenged like this, feeling at a loss that his tactics weren’t working. He took it as a sign to cut deeper, harsher. He needed to get the upper hand once more. 

His lips curled into a smirk, one that Steve had seen a thousand times before, the one that always made him feel like he was on the losing end of an argument before it even began.

“Are you really gonna let your woman talk to me like this?” His voice heavy and patronising as he stared Steve down. “That’s what you’re doing now? Letting a girl fight your battles?”

Absolutely not. No fucking way. 

Everything was still, you could hear a pin drop in the room. Steve’s anxiety turned to full-on rage, seeping through every vein in his body as he looked at his father. He didn’t care what he said to him, but the vile way he spoke of you was unacceptable. Something in him snapped at that moment. 

“No,” he said, voice holding unwavering clarity. His father looked shocked, not expecting such a firm response from his son.

“No?” His father echoed, leaning forward slightly, trying to intimidate him. “Finally found your voice huh? Took you long enough.”

“No,” Steve repeated with finality. You glanced over and saw the muscles in his jaw tightening as he met his father’s gaze. “What I’m not gonna do is let you disrespect her like that.”

“Disrespect?” His father scoffed, shaking his head, acting as though he knew better. Like he was better. ���I’m just telling it like it is. Someone has to, or you’ll go on thinking you’ve actually done something with your life.”

“I don’t need you to tell me how much of a fuckup I am, okay?” Steve shot back, heart pounding in his chest. “I got the message.”

He looks in your direction, eyes softening slightly as he takes in your expression. It held something his father had never directed at him. Pride. You looked proud of him. And that thought alone stirred him on. 

“What I’m not gonna do is allow you to talk to her like that,” He returns his attention to his father, his finger pointing in your direction. “Not when you don’t know a damn thing about her.”

His father bristled at the insubordination, the condescension in his voice was thick. “I know enough,” he said matter-of-factly. “I know she’s playing house with a guy who peaked in high school. How long till she figures that one out, hm?”

Steve’s blood spiked, now more willing than ever to fight back against his father. He had been pushed around for years, if there was any time to rebel, it would be now. “You don’t know anything about us! You’re hardly here!”

His father leaned back, smug. “I know enough about you, Steve. I know you’ve been coasting. First, it was basketball, then this lousy job at the video store—hell—you’re lucky someone even gave you the time of day. A girl like her? She’s going to wake up and realise you’ve got nothing to offer.”

Steve swallowed hard at that moment, his father’s words were getting to him, digging into his skin and refusing to let go. It was beginning to break him, like so many times previously. He was ready to back down, let him say his piece and be done with it. 

That was until he felt a gentle hand on his leg. One that softly ran its fingers against the denim of his jeans. He stared at it. As its presence. He felt the warmth within your touch, reigniting the fire he never thought lit. 

“You’re wrong,” he said quietly, voice cracking slightly but he pushed on. “She is not like that. You say she’s smart? You have no idea. I trust there is a reason she is with me. She sees who I am, something you have never been able to do.”

His father’s eyes flickered with something that resembled surprise, but he quickly masked it with a cold look. “So, what? You think this tantrum is going to change anything? These are facts.  You’ve always been weak, Steve. That’s why you’ll never—”

“No,” Steve cut him off, using the same word he had been repeating for this conversation, filled with a conviction that startled even himself. “I’m not weak. I’m done letting you make me feel like I am.”

The room went still, the sharpness in Steve’s voice hanging in the air that nobody was accustomed to. His father opened his mouth to respond, but Steve didn’t give him the chance.

“I’m not you. If I was she never would have looked at me twice, and I’m damn proud of that.”

Your exit was swift. Steve grabbed your hand and dragged you to the front door, leaving both of his parents in a state of shock. You just about managed to slip your feet into your shoes as he grabbed your coat to the side of your head. Slamming the door loudly as you left. 

The night air was cold, helping in soothing his raging anger, letting a breath out before he turned to you, stare softening with affection. He turned to face you, touching your cheek with such tenderness as he searched your eyes, trying to figure out how you were feeling. 

“Are you alright?” He asked softly, running his thumb along your cheekbone. 

“I’m alright,” you assured him, leaning into his touch. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I—wow,” he was still jittery, letting out a shaky laugh and running a hand through his hair. “I can’t believe I said all that.”

“I can,” you said as you gave him a reassuring smile. “I’m really proud of you.”

His expression was gentle, grateful to actually hear the words that had been denied for so many years. There was another emotion within him as well, a sense of awe. The way you handled yourself with grace, not bending under pressure. He swore he was already head over heels for you, but after tonight? He fell for you a just little bit harder. He shakes his head at your previous compliment. 

“You were amazing in there, sweetheart,” a crooked smile forming. “God, you’re something you know that?”

You smiled as you allowed him to lead you to his car, arm resting on your back as he opened the door for you. He slipped into the driver's seat and started the ignition, fingers drumming on the steerwheel as he tried to gather his thoughts. “I don’t think I can go back there. Like, ever.”

“Yeah, I kind of got that,” you say as you nudge him playfully. “Guess I’m gonna have to move you in, huh?”

He glanced at you as he pulled away from his childhood home, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. “Is that so?”

You laughed and rolled your eyes, pleased that he was making jokes instead of spiralling. The comfortable silence that filled the car was peaceful, but his expression shifted, something tentative, serious settled over him. 

“We could, you know.”

You blinked at his proposition. “What?”

He cleared his throat and immediately regretted saying anything. His nerves now spiking at his confession. It was too late to back out now, the words that spilt from his mouth flowed without thought. 

“I mean,” he started, knuckles turning white as his grip tightened. “I may work retail, but I definitely make enough to rent an apartment. I could contribute, really. I could…”

He trailed off, watching your reaction carefully. There was a sincerity in his words that made your heart melt.

“I mean, I’m not gonna be mad about halving the rent,” you said with a blush forming on your face at the thought of living with him. Of waking up with him, coming home to him. For all of your belongings being mingled together. For everywhere you look his presence is there with you. 

His face broke out into the softest, most boyish smile you had ever seen on him. “You mean it?” He uttered, voice quiet, as if he may have misheard you. 

“Yes, Steve,” you brush a hand through his hair, so in love with the sweet boy next to you. “I mean it.”

[lvnleah]

Hi!! I said about lotte earlier, I’d love some kind of lotte x reader maybe early in relationship and reader has a fight with her family which she ends up spilling to the team in changing room/ team night. lotte instinctively gets really protective/ angry which puts their relationship to the group? or maybe something to do with a creepy fan at a match, lotte gets protective and their relationship is shared online? feel free to make any changes ❤️❤️

Under Pressure | Lotte Wubben-Moy

thank you so much for this request <33

word count: 900 a little short one!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The hum of the changing room settled as you took a deep breath, peeling your training top off. The atmosphere was filled with the usual banter, chatter about the training session, weekend plans, and who got the most nutmegs that day. You had kept quiet for most of the day, a smile here and there, nodding along to your teammates’ chatter. But your mind was still spinning, replaying the argument with your family earlier that day.

You had walked out of that conversation, your head pounding, feeling like you had been run over by a truck. You couldn’t shake the hurtful words, the way their disbelief in your relationship with Lotte had made you feel so small. It was one thing for them to disapprove of your career in football, but to disapprove of her, of something that made you so happy, was a punch to the gut.

You and Lotte had been together for three months now, after being friends for so long you both decided it was time to try something new. Your family had never approved of you being a footballer let alone you being in a relationship with a woman.

“You okay?” Leah nudged you, bringing you back to reality instead of being inside of your head.

You forced a smile. “Yeah, just a bit tired. Didn’t get a lot of sleep.”

She didn’t seem convinced but thankfully didn’t push further. You were grateful for that, not sure if you’d be able to keep up the fake smile much longer. You wanted to scream, to vent, to let it all out, but you were also terrified of breaking down in front of everyone.

Later that night, the team decided to head to a local pub. A night out with the team was meant to be a distraction. The usual post-training hangout was filled with laughter, clinking glasses, and friendly teasing. But the mask you wore all day was starting to crack. Lotte, sitting across from you, noticed too. Her eyes flickered with concern, and she reached out under the table, her hand squeezing yours. It was a simple gesture, but it almost made you crumble.

“Babe, are you sure you’re okay?” she whispered, leaning in close so only you could hear. Her voice was gentle, her thumb brushing against your knuckles.

You nodded, but the lump in your throat only grew. “Yeah, just family stuff.”

You could see the flicker of anger in her eyes, her jaw tightening slightly. She hated that you were hurting and hated even more that it was because of them. You loved her protective side, but right now, you needed her to stay calm. The last thing you wanted was to drag the team into this.

But the dam broke when someone asked innocently about your family. “They still giving you grief about football?” Viv asked, her tone light but laced with genuine concern.

You hesitated, the weight of the day pressing down on you. “Not just about football,” you muttered, and the words spilled out before you could stop them. “They… they don’t understand why I’m with Lotte. They don’t think it’s serious, and they don’t think she’s… right for me.”

Silence settled over the group. You looked up to find everyone staring at you, the concern and sympathy evident in their faces. You felt exposed, vulnerable, and you wished you could take the words back, shove them down where they wouldn’t see the light of day.

Lotte’s hand tightened around yours, “That’s bullshit,” she said, “You deserve better than that.”

Your eyes widened, and you tried to give her a look, something to tell her to calm down, but she was on a roll now, her anger radiating off her in waves. “They don’t know what they’re talking about. You’re amazing, and if they can’t see that, then screw them. You don’t need their approval.”

The room was silent, everyone watching the two of you with wide eyes. It dawned on you then that she had said all this in front of the entire team. It wasn’t like you were hiding your relationship, but you hadn’t exactly put it out there either. You had wanted to keep it private, to let it grow naturally, without the pressure of everyone knowing. But now, there it was, out in the open.

You swallowed hard, glancing around the table. Leah was looking at you with a small, knowing smile, Viv and Beth exchanged a look, and the rest of the team seemed to be processing this new information.

“Uh, well, I guess that’s out now,” you said with an awkward laugh, rubbing the back of your neck.

Lotte turned to you, her anger melting away, replaced by a soft, almost apologetic expression. “Sorry, I just… I hate seeing you like this. I didn’t mean to…”

You shook your head, squeezing her hand. “It’s okay. I just hate that they get to me so much.”

She smiled softly. “I’m sorry.”

You leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. “Don’t be. It’s not your fault.”

A collective “awww” went around the table, and you could feel your cheeks burning as you pulled away, but you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. Maybe it wasn’t how you planned to reveal your relationship, but looking around at the team’s warm, accepting smiles, you realised it didn’t matter.

[literary-motif]

Pleaseeeeee can we get part 2 of Midas? And please don't make it angst. Just Darling and Andrew making up (making out👀-) .

Midas II

Andrew Marston x Reader

How could I possibly continue this story without making it angst? I tried my best, but there is a large portion of tears due to the tone of the first part.

Part I

You did not make it far. The discussion had occupied your mind to the point that you did not realize the raging thunderstorm outside. As soon as you got to the front door of your apartment complex, you froze, staring into the dark scenery of a cold, wet London. 

The water on the pavement reflected the orange glow of the streetlights. You would have brushed it off as the water in your own eyes, distorting your vision as you felt the crack in your heart solidifying into a permanent scar — but then it thundered, the sound so sudden and ringing loudly through the air that it startled you. 

Still, the anger and hurt in your chest was stronger. You narrowed your eyes, glaring at the rain. What now? You had half a mind to walk into the downpour, screw it all to hell and back, you were angry. 

What did rain change now? What did it matter if you had forgotten to grab your jacket? What did it matter that you did not have an umbrella, your partner thought you were stupid! 

Maybe you were. He surely wasn’t. Maybe you were. 

“Screw it,” you muttered, taking a step outside. Lightning flashed across the sky, the brightness making your head snap up. Thunder followed immediately, and you froze. Of course, you were in the epicenter of the thunderstorm. Of course just when you had no intention of being close to Andrew — for once — the only place to be was near him. 

This felt like a cosmic joke. 

You took a deep breath, trying to turn the burning in your blood to chilling coldness instead. Walking up the steps to your shared flat, you reminded yourself that he did not need to see you cry, reminded yourself that continuing screaming insults at one another would not resolve anything, reminded yourself that this would pass. 

It was an argument, and although it did not feel like it at the moment, you knew that you loved Andrew enough to forgive him for everything he said, and you hoped he had it in him to forgive you as well. There was a grain of truth to every insult, you supposed, but what was said in the heat of passion could never be taken at face value. 

The rational part of your brain told you that Andrew knew that, too, but there was a very distinct voice in your head that told you he absolutely despised you now. You lingered in front of the door, clutching your key. The keychain rattled, a little felt heart he had made for you in your favorite color. 

“Home is where the heart is,” he had said, presenting it to you with a hesitant smile. His eyes had spoken volumes on just how much that statement meant to him, genuine in his declaration that you were now his home. Coming from Andrew, a person who had never much felt at home anywhere since his early childhood, this simple sentence had made you tear up. 

You closed your eyes, taking another deep breath. Half of the things you had spit at him had fled your mind already. What had you said in the heat of the moment? 

Your hand trembled as you pushed the key into the lock, hesitating before opening the door and not daring to raise your gaze before you stepped inside, closing it again behind you. 

Andrew stood stock still where you had left him. His eyes were wide, filled with unshed tears. 

“Andrew?” you asked, unsure what to do. Your immediate urge — gathering him in your arms and guiding his head to lean against your shoulder to comfort him — seemed unfitting. You were the reason he was crying, and somehow that realization hurt more than you had expected when you had wanted to make tears gather in his eyes. 

“Darling?” he asked, his voice so small it made your heart seize. He looked lost, a second away from breaking apart completely. “Please don’t— don’t leave—”  he broke off with a strangled sob. The spell was broken. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he wrapped his arms around himself, slumping together as if he would collapse any moment. 

You moved before you were conscious of it, embracing him tightly to keep him from sinking to the ground. “Hey, hey, I’ve got you,” you murmured, feeling your own tears return as he buried his face in your shoulder, choking on his sobs as he desperately clung to you. “Hey, hey.”

“I’m so— so—” he hiccuped, shaky breaths forcing their way out of him.

“I’ve got you, Andrew. I’m not leaving, alright? Breathe.”

“Promise?” he asked, a sudden desperation in his voice that made a bitter taste appear on your tongue. “Promise? Dar— Dar–ling? Promise?” Why was that?

Your eyes widened, the reminder of his brother walking out, slamming the door shut on his abusive parents, old life and golden brother hitting you like a punch to the gut. A slap would have hurt less, and you found your arms tightening their hold on Andrew in the split second it took for you to realize that this had reminded him of the greatest loss he had suffered in his life.

“I swear,” you said with as much conviction as your trembling voice could convey. “I love you. I love you.” 

The strangled sigh of relief coming from him hurt nearly as much as his sobs, and when Andrew slumped against you, slowly starting to calm down as you ran your hand through his hair, whispering sweet nothings to make him calm down, you felt the anger at his words pale in comparison to the pain at seeing him like this. 

“I love you, too,” he mumbled once his breathing evened out, his voice cracking on the last syllable. “I love you so much, and I don’t— I don’t know why I—”

You loosened the embrace, making Andrew look up. You cupped his cheek, tilting his head to kiss him. “Not today,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck and feeling him shudder. “Let’s talk tomorrow. I— I can’t do it today. Just— I’m sorry. Please, let’s just” — your arms tightened, pulling him closer — “just—”

Andrew crashed his lips to yours, kissing you like you were the air he desperately needed to breathe. There was an urgency in his kiss that you had never felt before, a heartbreaking desperation as if he needed to reassure himself that you were here with him, that you were real, and his. 

Your fingers played with the hair at the base of his neck, gently caressing the soft strands while his embrace on you loosened. He leaned back, taking off his glasses before bringing his lips to yours again and tightening his hold.

There was a lot to talk about. Words — both said, never to be erased, and unsaid, ready to spill from you both like waterfalls — hung heavy in the air between you. For now though, when the tears were not yet dried and the shaking had yet to cease, you found comfort in each other. 

Words could wait until sunrise. Tonight, actions spoke.

[yanderes-galore]

Yandere rivals between Sanji and Zoro ~ will their be at each other throats or work together for the readers sake ~ 🍪(I’m fine with hcs as for platonic or romance I’m fine with either , whatever u thinks best please ) hope your doing ok ! 

These two are always having a rivalry just in general... Can they even share? Not sure if the cookie was meant to be your anon name or not but let me know if it was :')

Yandere! Sanji vs Zoro Concept

Pairing: Romantic/Platonic - Rivalry/Sharing mentioned

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Violence, Blood, Murder, Clingy behavior, Jealousy, Dubious companionship(s)/relationship(s).

These two are often fighting with one another.

Everything is a competition when it comes to them.

Throw in someone they both like?

They react in their own way but they're definitely fighting.

As the pairing is vague, there's multiple ways to look at this.

Platonic! Zoro/Platonic! Sanji: This pairing for them would be the one most likely to have them share. While it's hard to see Sanji as platonic, this pairing essentially gives you two competitive bodyguards. They still bicker, but when it comes to your safety the two are overly attentive.

Platonic! Zoro/Romantic! Sanji: This is a pairing I can see where they could either fight or share. Zoro would take an overprotective friend or brother role towards you while Sanji... is Sanji. Zoro would want the cook to treat you well and would only tolerate Sanji with you if he promises to take care of you. Other than that, it's a battle of Zoro trying to keep Sanji away from you.

Romantic! Zoro/Platonic! Sanji: Similar to the previous pairing but swapped. Now Sanji doesn't think Zoro will treat you well and acts like you're too good for Zoro. This version would most likely fight more. Especially because Zoro takes offense to the idea of you being gatekept by the cook on the crew.

Romantic! Zoro/Romantic! Sanji: There's no way these two are sharing. Both want you romantically and feel they have to impress you to have you to themselves. You can just imagine the competition and fights they get into.

Going into these individually is a bit much for this concept, so this will stay general for the most part.

However, if those pairings spark ideas for the future, I can probably do something with them another time.

The two respect one another for their abilities.

Yet they rarely seem to agree when it comes to you.

When they do agree with one another, they can be a dangerous duo.

But they have a tendency to bicker over you, even if the pairings change the degree they do.

Even the tamest pairing still has them fighting at times.

In canon, Sanji has some jealousy towards Zoro.

So if Zoro was getting more attention than Sanji, the cook may just snap.

Another thing to consider is the fact their yandere behaviors are different.

Zoro, no matter platonic or romantic, tends to stay out of the way and observe.

Sanji, however, always tends to be close to his obsession.

Sanji's behavior may drive Zoro to swap his behavior and stick around you more.

After all, if the cook isn't backing off, the swordsman isn't either.

Every interaction the two have is competitive in some way.

It can be over something simple, too.

For example, maybe Zoro found something he thought you might like as a gift and gave it to you.

Only for Sanji to one up him... and now the two are in a competition for who can give you the best gift.

One competition that always flops though is cooking or sword fighting.

As only one of them can do such tasks.

Zoro falls under the distant yet overprotective category while Sanji tends to be affectionate and clingy.

Which, again, puts Zoro on edge.

The two will get into physical fights... often.

It's almost like you see another new blood stain or scar on the two due to some other argument.

There has been too many times you and probably either Nami or Chopper have had to tend to their wounds.

The two may temporarily stop their fighting if you snap at them, allowing the two a moment of clarity to realize they are only annoying you.

Cue a brief apology from Zoro and groveling from Sanji.

I think the idea of them changing their behavior due to the other is interesting.

Even though Sanji primarily just makes Zoro a more aggressive yandere rather than distant....

The only thing the two share in common in this rivalry is the fact they care about you.

The two could be fighting, competing, bickering, etc...

Yet it all stops the moment they see you're hurt.

No matter the pairing... Those two get mad.

Friends, lovers, both, doesn't matter...

If one of them sees you bleeding, sick, or upset in anyway, the other knows too.

The two can work together in select situations.

Those two can be downright unstoppable if they want to be.

Imagine this... Someone's fighting you or harassing you, managing to make you upset or injured.

Yeah... The moment the two find out... That other person's gone.

The two quickly act like bodyguards to you as they just... seemingly appear.

There's a dark glare in their eyes and that other person knows they're doomed.

By the end of it, Zoro is either beating up the other person or already has a blade in their gut...

Meanwhile Sanji is shielding your eyes from the blood splattering on the floor and covering your ears to hide the screams.

All while the cook coos over your possible wounds.

The two know when to smarten up and work together.

They won't kill one another but they will certainly fight.

Their fellow crew won't let them kill one another...

Nami may have actually told them you'd be upset if they did or something, making the two pause.

They're both mostly just protective and competitive.

They don't want to hurt you in any way.

So, from these two, you'll get overprotective and ruthless bodyguards when you need them...

Although... the two will quickly pick up where they left off once they know you're okay...

It doesn't matter if one of them or even both of them have your heart or not... the two will always fight for your attention... much to everyone's annoyance.

[bestworstcase]

honestly? the only way i would except the “raven killed summer” thing is if she killed her in self defense. but really, summer being alive is a much more compelling narrative than her “sacrificing herself for the greater good” or whatever

for real

i’m continuing to place my bets on “gretchen the last spring maiden died taking a blow from summer meant for raven,” especially because it occurred to me recently that there’s a dead simple explanation for how this could happen without summer (and by extension, salem) knowing that raven became the spring maiden:

girl jumps in front of raven to bodily shield her—she’s probably within raven’s reach. raven catches her before she hits the ground and, on reflex, snaps both of them through a portal to be near qrow, leaving summer behind

(qrow’s probably dead asleep because it’s the middle of the night. think landing in the field outside an inn, or something)

prev maiden is mortally wounded and will clearly not survive without immediate medical intervention—a la penny and jaune. raven realizes this as soon as they fall out of the portal, and either sits with her while she dies or slits her throat to make it quick

raven is now the spring maiden, to her horror.

raven tries to open a portal back to summer in a vengeful rage—but either the bond has been outright destroyed by this betrayal, or it’s still there but the shattering of raven’s trust caused it to ‘close’ so she knows where summer is but can’t travel through the bond to reach her anymore.

summer knows the spring maiden was absolutely going to die within minutes, and assumes (rightly) that if raven inherited the magic, she’d use her semblance to come after summer and smush her like a bug.

when this doesn’t happen, she figures the spring maiden must have died with someone else in her thoughts, and later relays this reasoning to salem, who finds no reason to question it; this situation with raven being so horribly betrayed by one of her bonds is likely unprecedented and raven seems to be very private about how her semblance works (given tai’s very limited description of how it works), so summer and salem are working with very little information here.

gestures vaguely at the morrígan and cú chulainn. there’s your trickery.

but regardless yeah, 100% playing summer’s fate straight as a Tragic Heroic Sacrifice is the most boring thing they could do with her

[finnedfatale]

Well, let me take it for a try. How about some fluff headcanon about favorite things to do when relaxing for Diasomnia. I really love fluff about Tsunotaro!

Giggling, rubbing my hands like a fly. Four big guys. Headcanons are my favorite tbh, I love taking characters and mishmashing what I feel is right for them.

Lilia, Sebek, Silver and Malleus.

You said you like malleus so get ready to read pookie.

Lilia's obviously is hanging upside down. You'd think he does that only to scare people, but for him it's a surprisingly comfortable position to read in. He used to practice instruments for fun but now he has most mastered, from guzheng to percussion so he doesn't find it all that relaxing anymore. He prefers to sit in a dark room, enlightened by candles as he reads something. It's usually a romance, he steers away from any books he deems as fantasy due to thinking they're boring (and already reading the better ones a long time ago). Though, one time Yuu offered him a book from their universe. Despite being a thick and complicated fantasy series, Lilia read through it in less than a day. He was fascinated by all sorts of magic described in the book, having to take everything he knew about his own universe and reconsider if all this fantasy in the book was meant to truly be like a weird alternative version of the one he is in. Yuu never saw that book again, though Yuu did get thousands of questions from Lilia about said book.

Sebek doesn't relax. You think he relaxes? WRONG!!! He's always on high alert in case his liege needs him.... Though he does admit, reading is a hobby of his which he indulges in often. It may not be very surprising but everytime there is thundering outside he relaxes like never before, he himself never is able to fully relax until he hears that distinct rumbling and a deafening crash of light. Though he only watches from inside due to most lighting being accompanied by cold rain, he prefers warm places! (Canonically he finds the school's botanical garden relaxing due to it being warm and humid!)

Silver's weird fact about himself is the fact that he keeps a collection of sword handles. He used to keep full swords (and he still has some) but his collection took up so much place that he decided to shorten them. Blades of the swords were never interesting to him anyways, it's mostly the handles that were intricately designed. To relax he often goes through his collection and polishes them until they shine so bright that it's almost like looking into a mirror. If still needing to relax and his polishing attempts didn't calm him enough, he goes outside in order to feed the birds. The Diasomnia dorm is mostly surrounded by crows which always scurry around him when they see him.

Malleus is somewhat of a yapper. He doesn't get too into talking though until he is sure he can, keeping a distance to his words before actually yapping. Though... When one of the people he trusts more comes by, he tends to talk and talk about mundane topics until the corners of his mouth hurt from speaking. Even other people in the dorm fail to get to see that side of him, it's reserved for those who he can actually open to which isn't a lot of people. When Yuu came by he opened up to them due to a few simple reasons. Tamagotchis and dedication. Other than Malleus having one, Yuu carried about three on their person. He wondered why Yuu needs so many only to find out that two were broken and serving simply as keychains, he understood it simply as attachment to an item they deeply cared for. But for Yuu it was more of a "fixing it costs more money" situation. The two didn't talk much, occasionally passing eachother in the hallways. Yuu found out through Idia's doing that the little devices were compatible despite being from different universes and if given a bigger screen the creatures could interact. Everyday that Malleus saw Yuu, he silently watched as they paced back and forth while planning things. It gotten to the point that Yuu randomly screamed out "Eureka!" and other stuff in class when they gotten a plan on what to do next. Though with the two broken devices Yuu managed to make a scuffed version of a wide tamagotchi. It was like a small connecting screen which as soon as it was placed near a tamagotchi (or a similar device) transfered it from the small screen to the bigger one. Malleus was hesitant at first, obviously scared to put his beloved object next to something that looked like a portable bomb or a Nintendo switch without a casing. But everyday he did it and the two talked while they took care of their little electronic creatures. Malleus finally felt like he could open up, everytime he talked with Yuu he could feel his heart warming up to them. Eventually he forgot about the toy for a bit, only coming to Yuu in order to talk about everything and nothing. Hobbies, food, new things he learned, things Yuu may have not known, history of twisted wonderland... He finally had a friend he could talk to :)

This was long oh my days. This ask was actually so cute so I decided to yap and yap like Malleus. I think I'm getting more comfortable about writing to you guys because my posts are only gonna get longer.

Though... i can't stop imagining what would happen if he finally found a friend in Yuu and the next day they were able to go back to their universe bro would be mentally destroyed 😭

Also this got me thinking why Silver doesn't have a last name. Like shouldn't he have one?? And why is Sebek the only guy from Diasomnia from another place?? Like said place doesnt even have a tumblr tag 🤔

I think I should go offline for today. Too much thoughts.

[shmichaelmeen]

Nothing could have prepared me for how Season 2 ended. Not even the spoilers.

okay i know that we all make jokes about how episode six is insane, there was even one person who posted about how it's comparable to eating a bag of powdered donuts but the last one is covered in cocaine. and i knew how season 2 ended from ~ the internet ~ and everything and due to some traumatic shit happening in the middle of watching season 2 for the first time, i never finished it. so all i knew was whatever i saw online and i didn't think there was anything much more to it.

but oh BOY was i wrong

watching episode 6 felt like a literal fever dream. I didn't even realize what episode it WAS until my friend (who helped me finish watching the season) pointed it out. and i FREAKED OUT because sooooo much happens in one episode. SO MUCH. i genuinely thought that the whole bit AFTER Jim/Gabriel got his memories back - the Metatron appearing, the kiss, EVERYTHING INSANE - was all another episode.

I have a lot to say about how people talked about the ending versus how it was to watch it and see it for myself for the first time but what i will say is this. i tried to go along with everyone making explanations for what happened and justifying that everything about the end, about the episode, heck even about the SEASON makes any sense but i cannot follow that anymore. to put it simply, there's a LOT there and i don't think at this time we CAN make a nice neat explanation. and that's the whole point. the whole point of the ending, the whole point of Nina and Maggie's ending, is that rarely in life (even i guess in immortal life apparently) is anything simple. when in comes to matters of the heart and Human Emotion, there is never an easy answer. it's messy, and that's perfectly okay. it's allowed to be messy. and that's my approach to trying to analyze season 2. it's okay that it's messy and things may not make sense. it's meant to be that way to represent just how confusing and even frustrating love can be.

everyone loves to bash the miscommunication trope", but why does it work? because it is realistic (a lot of the time, depending on writing of course). it's only realistic that people miscommunicate and that confronting feels for each other makes things confusing and awkward. that's how the ending was written. and i think that's perfectly okay.

as much as i am a Tier 1 Overthinker, this is one time where I'm willing to accept that the situation is unexplainable until we have further information (yay season 3!!!!!!). this also isn't an "anti-theories" post either. i think those posts, as well as all of the "what if the curtains are just blue" people, are trying to hard to be cool and different by not thinking critically about a piece of media when media is designed to be thought about and analyzed. and trust me, i do like entertaining theories, but I'm just staying super open-minded for the time being. if anyone has any niche theories i'd love to hear them because I'm willing to entertain any possible answer until we get the truth :)

(oh and before anyone says anything about how it's my own fault for looking at spoilers, that's not the issues. spoilers aren't the thing I'm talking about. it's people trying to make definitive answers and put together the puzzle perfectly when we don't have all the pieces. not having an answer feels uncomfortable, but that's also the whole point.)

[whatitsdecending]

Vore (Vessel Oneshot)

Vessel x Female Reader

Word Count: 3k

A small argument breaks out between you and your partner, leading to the two of you letting your emotions combat the other in a more intimate way.

Content warning: smut, biting, slight masochism, choking, dominance, aggressive behavior

Requested by: @40ss

A/N: hi all, I’m very open to taking requests for anyone in Bad Omens or Sleep Token, hoping you all enjoy this one!!

“…follow me between the jaws of fate, I want to have you to myself… for once…”

—————————

You stared at your partner as he leaned over his guitar, writing something down on the pad of paper in front of him. His eyebrows were scrunched together as he focused, lips tight and holding his guitar pick between them.

It’s been an hour… one long, grueling hour of watching him write, play some riff, shake his head and scratch out what he first wrote to only rewrite another thing. He grew increasingly frustrated with himself each time and you were just waiting for him to give up. But that wasn’t how he worked. You’ve seen it firsthand how he works himself to exhaustion and you’re driving the two of you home as he sleeps in the passenger seat.

He was too stubborn for you to step in and tell him to take a break. You’ve tried many times before, but always got the: “I’m fine, I’ll have a break when I think I need one” response. So now, you just sat back and watched over the pages of your book as his frustration grew.

“Fuck.” He muttered as he stopped strumming the chords that had you tapping your foot along to them.

You looked up. “What was wrong with that one, Vessel?” You asked, setting the bookmark in the place you were and put your book to the side. You rested your forearms on your thighs and leaned your weight against them, staring at him as he shook his head.

“Didn’t feel right.” He said, crossing out something on the paper once again.

You sighed. “I really liked it, if that means anything.” You toyed with a loose thread on your sweatshirt as he was quiet and wrote again.

“It was a simple, peppy riff that anybody remotely interested in music would have found to be catchy.” He snapped. You straightened your spine in alarm at the tone he used at you, something you’d never heard come from him when he talked to you. He just focused on what he was writing on the paper, completely unaware of what he just said to you.

You swallowed the lump starting form in your throat. “Well. I guess I should leave, if you clearly don’t want me around here today.” You picked up the book and stood from the couch, striding to where your bag hung on the coat rack and reached to pull it from there. You turned to Vessel after grabbing it. “I guess I’ll see you at home once you figure out a riff that’ll make someone who is as interested in music as you are like it.” Your words were like venom on your tongue, not once have the two of you spoken in such ways to each other and it felt so wrong. But couples have fights all the time, it’s healthy… right?

“Fuck,” he muttered once more and you turned to where he still sat, realizing his eyes were on you. “I did not mean to upset you Y/N.” He set his guitar to the side and stood, his long legs making a quick move to where you stood.

“It’s fine. I’ll see you when you get home.” You grit out as you stared up into his eyes, a flicker of regret in them as he went to cup your cheek with his hand.

“I meant none of that. I’m just…” He glanced away as he tried to find the words. “I’m just frustrated with this song, I want it to be perfect.”

You sighed. “Vessel every song you create is perfect, you don’t have to stress yourself out so much about this one song.” He was so, so talented and you admired that so much about him. But god was he a perfectionist. You knew he always was but this time around it’s increased at least ten times, for some reason he was putting his all into it and was struggling.

His long arms wrapped around you and pulled you into his chest, holding you tight as his heartbeat thumped against your skin. You savored the warmth radiating off him and onto your skin, the light scent of his cologne and the slightest bit of sweat from his day of working wrapped around you, engulfing you in that comfort that he gave you.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered against your hair.

You nodded. “It’s okay. I forgive you.” His grip around you tightened ever so slightly and he kissed your head. “I’ll still head out though, just so you’ve got the space to yourself to figure it out.” You pulled away from his embrace.

“No, no.” He said, continuing after you raised a brow at him. “I need you here to be able to work on this.”

“Why…?” You put your bag back on the coat rack and fished the book out again.

He smiled slightly. “The song, it’s about you. And I need you here in order to work on it. That’s why I want it to be perfect.” Your heart strained against your chest and it felt as though your stomach flipped a few times as his words settled in you.

“You’re making a song about me?” It was a shocked whisper that came from you, making Vessel smile as he observed your face.

“Yes.” He smiled and kissed your forehead again. “Now, go sit, read and look beautiful so I can keep working on it.” You blushed and rushed back to your spot on the couch, curling up in the corner and flipping open the book to the page you were on. You felt his stare and you peaked over the edges again, smiling as he watched you with a loving gaze.

“Stop staring at me and get to work.” You chuckled.

“I’m getting inspiration.” He smirked as his eyes raked over every bit of you. You blew him a kiss and went back to the book. “Hmm, that would work too.”

“What?” You asked, waiting a moment before glancing up and seeing him stalking over to you. “What are you doing you dork?” You laughed as he came up to you, pulling your face to his and kissing you gently. “Oh, that’s fine I guess.” You muttered after his lips parted from yours.

“Mmhm.” He hummed softly and pressed his lips against yours once more and deeper than the first one.

You pulled back. “Is your inspiration flowing now?” A light giggle came out as you spoke, noting the fire that gleamed in his eyes as he looked at you.

“Only a bit. I might need a little more help, though.” He said, voice rough with desire.

You smirked as he came close again. “I could help you out with that.” You purred, his lips pressing onto yours again as he took the book from your hands and placing it gently on the side table. He hummed against your lips as you lightly nipped his bottom lip and positioned yourself so you were now laying on the couch, his body following yours and resting against you.

“You sure no one will be coming in?” You asked between a kiss.

He propped himself up and brushed a stray hair from your face. “Yes, everyone had plans today. It’s just us darling.” He leaned down and peppered soft kisses across your face and your jaw.

“Mm, good.” You breathed. “So no one will question why you’re moaning my name so loud.”

He laughed. “Sure, darling. But I think it’s more so the other way around.” You rolled your eyes at the implication and pulled him back down to your lips, biting his bottom lip a little harder this time to make him gasp and you could slip your tongue into his mouth. You propped up your legs after he tapped on them, letting him nestle between them and press his growing erection against your core.

You pushed your hips up, pressing yourself against him more and causing his breath to catch in his throat at the feeling. A smirk twitched at your lips as you began to grind your hips into his, a groan rumbled from his chest. He took his free hand and gripped the side of your hip, pushing it back against the cushions and away from his.

“Don’t fucking do that.” He ground out, voice gravely as he stared at you with desire burning in his eyes.

“And why not?” You cooned, cocking your head to the side as you eyed him. He huffed a breath as he took the hand that pinned your hip and began to undo the button of your jeans.

“You’re being a brat.” He said as he slid the zipper down. “You know I don’t like it when you’re trying to take control.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re no fun.”

“You’re gonna regret saying that in two seconds.”

He pulled your jeans off with a swift tug, grinning at the panties you decided to wear today. He didn’t leave you enough time to laugh about the bright pink fabric that had “eat me” on the front before he pulled those down your legs.

Vessel lowered himself between your legs and set your thighs on his shoulders. He turned his neck to kiss the flesh next to him, inching down slowly as he kept his eyes trained on yours. You watched as the anticipation built between your legs, writhing around just a little as you ached for his touch.

He smirked against your thigh as his finger ran up the center of your folds, a shiver running through you as he teased both your clit and entrance. You breathed in deeply as he continued his teasing, his tongue drawing circles on the skin of your thigh. And then, he inserted his finger at the same time he bit your thigh. Not too hard to cause you so much pain, but hard enough where you gasped at the different sensations happening at once.

“Oh… god.” You moaned as he pumped his finger in and out of you and kept hold of your flesh with his teeth.

He moved his head over to your other thigh, biting down as he inserted a second finger. You moaned loudly and your back arched up at the feeling of his fingers stretching you slowly. You whimpered at the feeling of them as he curled them up each time he reached where your g-spot laid and the feeling of his teeth on your flesh… you needed more from that.

“M-mark me.” You moaned. Your eyes peaked open for a moment, noting Vessel staring at you. “Do it baby, please.” He hummed against your thigh and you felt his teeth push deeper and harder into your skin, the sharp pain hitting you in tune with the pleasure of his fingers inside of you. You closed your eyes and leaned your head back, enjoying the sensations that overwhelmed your mind all at once.

You knew it wasn’t going to be a bloody mess due to the thickness of the skin of your thigh, but the bruise it was going to leave would be satisfactory enough.

After he studied the bite marks on both of your thighs, Vessel moved his mouth to rest on your clit. His tongue drew circles around the sensitive bundle as you writhed beneath him. Your hands flew straight to his hair and your fingers tangled with the strands of his hair. You tugged each time he flicked his tongue or curled his fingers, and your hold grew tighter the closer he brought you to your orgasm.

“V-Ves… Vessel.” You cried out as the release rattled through you, your thighs clenched tight around his head as your muscles locked up for just the moment.

You laid there breathless as your body came down from the high. Vessel stayed between your legs and gently caressed the bite marks that were now very apparent on your thighs. You smiled down at him and he smirked back in response.

“You want more? Or just that?” He asked you, drawing invisible shapes on your pelvic bone as he waited for your answer.

You raised a brow. “Well what does “more” entail?”

He only smiled as he said, “Fucking you to the point where I have to carry you out of here.” Ache built between your legs again as a dark look gleamed in his eyes now.

“How do you want me?” You asked, biting your lip slightly as he ran a finger through the slickness of your folds.

“Something like this. But,” he sat up to where he rested on his knees and towered over you, then pulled you down so you were fully flat on the couch. “More like this.” You giggled at the strength he possessed in order to move you at the speed he just did, a little surprised by the movement too.

He pulled off your shirt and bra, eyes sparkling at the sight of you bare before him. “Is this what you needed for “inspiration”?” You stretched your arms over your head to elongate your torso, his eyes widened at the sight.

“It’s not what I fully thought I needed but yes, Christ yes Y/N, I need this.” His hands toyed with the soft mounts of your breasts for a bit before he removed the belt from his jeans, pushing the fabric from his legs and onto the floor. Your eyes fixated on the bulge of his erection through his briefs, desire now seemed to drip from your body as he pulled away the undergarment from his body.

He lifted your legs, letting you hold them yourself as he settled between them once more, coming down to press a kiss to your lips as he lined himself up with your entrance. In an instant the feeling of him pushing inside and filling you up was all you could focus on. You grabbed at him, pulling him down so he was flush against your chest as he moved in and out.

Once you were used to him in you, he leaned back from your chest and wrapped his fingers around your neck, squeezing a bit as he picked up the pace of his thrusts. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he did so. You locked your hand around his forearm, digging your fingers into his skin.

“Harder, Vessel.” You whimpered and he nodded, simultaneously squeezing more at your neck and thrusting harder into you. The sound of his skin slapping against yours filled the room and mixed in with the harmony of your moans and his. You were on cloud fucking nine right now.

“Pull your knees to your chest.” He ground out in multiple breaths. You nodded and pulled your knees up as he paused for a moment to let you. He leaned his body into your legs, pressing them up further and further until your toes were almost touching the pillows behind you. “Mmm, fuck this feels good.”

You cried out when his thrusts came fast and hard, his pace never faltering as he slammed into you. He leaned down and kissed you roughly, tongue and teeth clashing with one another as you did your best to focus on his kiss.

He was slowly making you come undone again, the pressure of this angle was stimulating that little spot in you and it was going to make you orgasm all over his cock. You could tell by the increased whines coming from his throat that he was close too, but never once did his pace slow.

The muscles of your walls tightened up as your release came quickly, a strangled moan escaping your lips as your body shook against the position you were in. He smiled down at you, kissing your cheek quickly as you came down from your orgasm. His hands grabbed hold of your wrists and pinned them up over your head, allowing him a full view of your fucked-out expression. You stared up at him through your lashes and he kept your eye contact as his own orgasm came crashing through his body.

He slowed his pace to a stop, panting heavily as he moved each of your legs back down to rest against the couch. They shook wildly as Vessel pulled out of you and went to get a towel to clean you up. You laughed at your body, the involuntary shaking of your muscles as you calmed down from the activity.

Vessel returned with a slightly damp towel and cleaned you up, chuckling at your legs like you had just done. He pulled you from the couch and you placed your feet on the floor, pushing yourself up as you winced at the cramp you felt. “Oh you got me good, babe.” You winked at him as you bent down to grab your clothes and pull them back on.

“Am I going to have to carry you when we leave?” He asked, pulling his shirt back over his head and attempting not to laugh as you struggled with your jeans.

“You know what I was going to say no, but now that you’re laughing at me you must carry me out of here.” You put your hand on your hip as you pointed at him, getting another laugh in response. You rolled your eyes and grabbed your book from the side table, making sure to make yourself comfortable on the other end of the couch this time. “I hope that was enough to inspire you now.”

He smirked from where he sat down, guitar now on his lap as he strummed a few chords. “Hm. Should be good for now, but I’ll let you know if I need any more.” He winked at you.

You snorted. “Dork.”

“You love me though.”

You gave him a pointed nod from over the edges of your book. “Yes, Vessel. I do love you.” He smiled broadly at your words and went back to working, focus taking over every aspect of his face.

The first sample was finished within the hour.

[accursedkaleeshi]

Welcome back to Kaleesh Week! New hub blog this year: me, Accursed :)

Posting early to give time to the try-hards & the busy! Entries will not be reblogged until the week begins. Details under the cut!

What is Kaleesh Week?

Kaleesh Week is a week dedicated to the small but thriving subset of the Star Wars fandom that loves General Grievous and his people, the Kaleesh. Similar to much more well-known fandom celebrations such as Smaugust, Mermay, or Whumptober, Kaleesh Week can pertain to any medium of choice. Taking advantage of the fact that canon doesn't look over here to do whatever we want!

What are the rules?

The rules are simple, but should be followed to ensure the happiness of all participants and make my job as archivist easier!

Tag your stuff meant for the week with #kaleeshweek24 or #kaleeshweek2024 ! Tag @accursedkaleeshi additionally if you don't want me to miss it. I will be reblogging all the goods to my blog this year! (we still love TB, F in the chat. they aren't dead)

Any type of creation is allowed, whether art, fanfiction, gifs, videos, or anything else. As long as it's Kaleesh-related, there's no problem

Remember to properly tag all triggers

It isn't strictly necessary to follow along every day, this is meant to be fun! Post whenever you like, whether that's all seven days or just one. You can also post anytime after the week if you'd like

Alternate prompts can be used to mix and match in any way you'd like with the standard prompts, so go crazy

And last but not least, have fun!

What are the prompts, and what's the deal with alternate prompts?

The two lists of prompts a day are there to give any participants more freedom with whatever they'd like to create. The days are more of a guideline, as mentioned above. Go crazy, or for those of us with busy lives, freak it sensitive style in wild space. If you post only one thing of any effort whenever you can? You're participating fam! I will be reblogging your tagged posts when the week begins & beyond. pm me with any questions!

Prompts:

Color

Tusks

Tradition

Many

Food!

Fast

Nest

Alternate Prompts:

White

Teeth

Tech

One

Food?

Slow

Trees

Bonus Wildcard Prompt to swap with: Kaleeshi Hatsune Miku lol

I'd like to join the General Grievous Discord server! Where do I sign up?

If you'd like to come hang out with us at the Kaleeaboos server, simply PM me! We have all sorts of fun stuff going on, and a pretty chill vibe. I'm one of the mods there along with some other big names in the Grievous fandom. Come hang with us!

And finally, good luck, and have fun!

[thepersonperson]

Hey! After reading your amazing dream's end theory it sure does answer a lot of weird tonal shifts and pacing problems going on after Sukuna battle. You've already pointed out much of the ooc things going within these three chapters. It feels like some inception level trolling by Gege (i really hope it is..I need the last chapter to make me roll down in my puddle of tears) I found it especially odd how Angel says Sukuna baited Hana with Megumi's memory (which for that Megumi should've known about Hana's feelings all this time but in the same sequence he actually looks taken aback with Hana's response) but in the actual scene during the fight it looked with Hana's declaration of her possessiveness for Megumi, Sukuna put the bait in that moment...Angel's answer seemed similar to what Sukuna had answered to Yuji's question about him knowing about the hydrangeas.

Also there's the scene of Charles working on a manga for a magazine but Charles never got a nod for serialization? He broke the same editor's finger and bailed out halfway..and now still got a chance also meaning the manga industry is back in business even though Tokyo is still haunted by curses.(Idk maybe I'm reading too much and too wrong 😕) I'm so confused with all these events my best bet is something sketchy happened after that small interaction between Megumi and Yuji. Megumi wanted a normal peaceful life and he's getting it all now.

Ok so this ask had a lot in common with a different anon so I'm answering them both at the same time.

Anon who sent me a reaaaaally long ask about re-reading JJK 268, I'm copying and pasting your exact words below the cut.

"Re-read chapter 268 and the sequence of events is interesting.

We have the moment with the letters, and Yuuji and Nobara seem taken off guard by Megumi's reaction to Gojo's letter, then immediately they change subjects to them having to meet Maki and the others. It seems pretty chill.

Then Megumi mentions wanting to apologize, and suddenly they imply that the reunion is to "save" Yuta. Now after last weeks chapter we know they meant from Maki's scolding, but like, the panel with Maki, Panda and Inumaki has them walking somewhere, presumably to Yuta, so how did they know they had to save Yuta from Maki's scolding...

Now admittedly, there are explanations for this, like Maki mentioning Yuta and acting mad before while Megumi was unconscious. But it's...odd. How Megumi keeps trying to address what happened to him but other characters keep changing the subject or pushing focus to something else.

Megumi mentions being inside Sukuna during Nobara's revival, we are presented with the letters, Megumi mentions wanting to apologize, suddenly they have to "save" Yuta from Maki, who is acting more aggressive than ever (but still asks Megumi how he is feeling), Megumi once again tries to apologize, but he gets dismissed by Maki, then Yuuji tries to blame himself, and then Kusakabe blames Gojo, Kenjaku and all the adults that "failed" them. And from then it's all Yuta and talking about the battle (and simple domains).

Then Megumi buries Tsumiki, and instead of getting his thoughts or see him apologize (something we know he wanted to do) we get commentary and a joke from Shoko. In the same panel where she makes that joke, we see Megumi with a "..." speech bubble but we can't see his expression (like. not even his usual "im done with you people" expression), and then he immediately gets a call to do something.

Then, once again, Megumi tries to take responsibility for what Sukuna did, trying to make it up to Hana, and she takes attention away from that by mistaking it as a marriage proposal. Megumi is flustered, and runs away to do a mission (presumably what the call was about before).

Now, here's the thing, some of this stuff have perfectly reasonable explanations or are actually in character for the characters to do do (ex. of course yuuji would blame himself and hana also felt in character) but instead is the culmination of everything that leaves this odd taste in my mouth.

Sure, Gege could be stressed and overworked, sure, he could simply have no interest in really exploring Megumi's current state (which is odd considering Megumi was the original protagonist and Gege said in an old interview that he already knew his fate). But it could be something else at work, Gege could be playing with us.

What ever happens though, I'll always hold this theory close to my heart."

As the both of you pointed out, this really points to someone (Yuji) wanting Megumi to feel happiness and nothing else. The moment there is friction or him trying to confront negative emotions, he's pulled somewhere else. If both of you noticed this pattern without speaking to each other, it probably means something. (It's also funny how you both latched onto the Hana-Megumi confession scene in particular.)

I keep getting asks/replies that point out things I missed that indicate something is afoot. If these people made these posts by themselves, they'd likely get mocked for copium. But you add them all together and the case gets stronger.

That's why this whole debacle is so Umineko. The plausible deniability is the catbox that makes the mystery so hard to solve. It's also a recurring theme in JJK. Gojo and Sukuna use plausible deniability to mask their true feelings and mislead each other during their fight and everyone who is trying to have some kind of relationship with them.

If Gege is using the very real burnout, rushed deadlines, and health problems to mislead fans with this past 3 chapters, I will become a permanent glazer. Weaponizing your own flaws and feeding into the negative fan sentiment for trickery. It's evil genius.

[suddencolds]

. not snz

on healing and on fear (tags)

[psychotrenny]

The thing with 9/11 is that no one cares that much about the death and destruction itself. Buildings fall down and people die all the time, including in the US. Like at the height of the COVID-19 pandemic you had entire 9/11s worth of USamericans dying on a regular basis. If all that damage was caused by an earthquake or faulty building practices or whatever, there wouldn't have been nearly as much fuss about it. It's not as if the insane response from US population was a matter of "two building fall down"

The reason why 9/11 was so upsetting to the US population was their widespread feelings of Imperialist Chauvinism and the subsequent outrage at seeing it so openly and violently defied. The US was at the height of its Imperialist power at the turn of the millennium, a hegemonic superpower that was dominant in some way over more or less the entire world. Whether they'd phrase it in such a way or not, most people in the US were very well aware of this; as far as they were concerned the US was truly the greatest country on the Earth. For some this was a point of pride, for others it was a simple fact of the world. This made them feel secure; bombings and mass killings might happen in those "shithole nations" of the earth but it couldn't happen over there. The US military could wipe entire cities off the map and like maybe that was good, maybe that was unfortunate and maybe it meant nothing at all. Either way that was normal; the violence flowed from the Core to the Periphery.

Until one day it didn't. One day a group of people from that Periphery, from some shithole group of nations, struck back. Now the sorts of destruction they'd seen on TV were happening right outside their window; the US got the smallest taste of the sort of brutality they had long inflicted on the rest of the world. And they did not like that taste at all. The US people as a whole went mad with grief and rage, not at the death of any people but the death of their sense of unquestionable safety and superiority. And the only hope of getting that feeling back was to inflict a revenge so terrible that no one would dare resist or retaliate again.

If bloodshed was how they'd built their empire, only more bloodshed could keep it safe. And this time they didn't even have to feel bad about it. It's not as if the US empire had ever given the world any peace, but now they had the perfect pretense to escalate it to levels not seen in decades. If they talked about this isolated and comparatively limited attack as though it was some great invasion, the US government and its supporters could take all the moral high ground of "self defence" even as they slaughtered impoverished peoples on the other side of the world. So it made sense to treat the 11 September attacks as though they were the greatest tragedy of all time. 9/11 didn't break the US psyche, it just made them express it in a more shameless way. It's not as though genocidal Imperialist violence was anything new to the USA. Afghans were just the new Apaches; the "Middle East" a new "Wild West"

[akimiiyo]

-> JEALOUSY

⌗synopsis : genshin men when they’re jealous.

⌗characters : diluc, kaeya, albedo, zhongli, childe, baizhu, xiao, thoma, ayato, heizou, wanderer, kazuha, tighnari, cyno, alhaitham, kaveh, neuvillette, lyney, dainsleif, dottore, pantalone, capitano, pierro.

⌗cw : gn!reader, not proofread, lowercase intended, probably ooc.

he’s a gentleman, he doesn’t get jealous often because he knows for a fact that he has nothing to worry about. you’ve never done anything that made him feel as if he had to watch out and he’s certain that you never will. although he can still get annoyed at the sight of another man flirting with you. it was his insisting even after you turned him down that angered him the most. nonetheless, he doesn’t let such people interfere with his composure. he’ll act mature and take you somewhere else once he sees that the man has no intentions of leaving you alone. as soon as you both get a moment alone together, however, he won’t hesitate to plant a few more kisses than usual. just in case, y’know?

diluc, zhongli, alhaitham, neuvillette, dainsleif, capitano.

he won’t admit it, but he gets jealous often. he doesn’t want to confront you about it because he believes it’s embarrassing and silly to feel that way. i mean, you’re his and he’s yours. you love him so much, there’s no need to worry, right? yet, he still can’t help but fume at the sight of strangers complimenting you. he can’t blame them, but he still would rather for people to be blind if that meant that they’d leave you alone. he’s aware of how unfair that would be, so he just stays quiet, either sulking or glaring at those people as you offer them a kind smile until you’re both alone where he’ll be needing your utmost attention.

xiao, albedo, thoma, kazuha, kaveh, baizhu.

he’s jealous and he’ll show it. hit on his partner? right in front of him? absolutely not. he might try to keep his calm at first, but as time passes and this scumbag is still around, he won’t hold back. not to worry, he won’t do anything extreme (unless he’s forced to do so), he just wants to make things clear to this guy. he’ll keep it simple at first, simply making subtle comments until he actually starts going straight to the point. after a while, he’ll take your arm and walk away with you, now being angrier than before. the way that guy was talking to him, but especially you, has him furious. be prepared to listen to his angry rant about that random dude. be also prepared to shut him up, you know how.

kaeya, childe, heizou, tighnari, cyno, wanderer, lyney.

this guy almost sees you as his property, his jealousy is unmatched. he won’t take anything lightly. if you’re trying to make advantages on his partner, then you’re asking for it. simple as that! he won’t let anyone think they might have a chance with you because you’re destined to be with him and only him. so obviously, he must make it clear to everybody to not even try. if someone is bold enough though, he’ll just stand beside you, piercing through this man’s soul with his icy gaze. thankfully, nothing ever escalated from that. not that he wouldn’t be capable of doing that, these poor souls simply knew better than to get against someone of that status and reputation.

ayato, dottore, pantalone, pierro.

⌗a/n : im not really proud of this, i might edit it once i have time. it’s 4am and i was supposed to be studying, but i ended up writing this instead. talk about procrastination 😪 let me know if i made any mistakes pls

want to read more? take a look at my masterlist!

©2024 akimiiyo. do not repost, translate, plagiarise, or modify in any way, shape or form.