#ALSO THE RAP IT PICKS UP WITH HATS AND THEN

[vivwritesfics]

Secret Santa - MV1

(just a short one while i work)

Y/N shook the present. She had a santa hat shoved over the top of her Red Bull cap and a pair of chistmassy earrings dangling from her ears. "I can't even begin to guess," she said as she pulled off the red rapping paper.

Inside was a box. The box itself gave no indication as to what her Christmas present was. So, she pulled the box open.

Y/N's expression dropped. And then she pulled the item out of her box, a wide smile on her face. "Thank you, santa," she said and kissed the side of the mug.

The mug itself had a picture of her teammate on it. Max Verstappen with his face pressed up against the glass. Y/N had been on the other side of that glass laughing as Max pulled faces.

"This is fantastic," she said, holding the mug up beside her own head. She kissed the mug again.

"Who do you think it's from?"

Y/N thought about it. She looked at the mug and ran through all of the drivers in her head. "My first thought is Charles, but it might also be Daniel."

"Who are you going with? Daniel?"

"Definitely Daniel."

It was Daniel. The Australian was pretty smug about it, and all. He hadn't been able to speak to Y/N since he first picked out her name.

"Well, thank you, Daniel. I'll be using this every time I want a drink.

***

There was a running theme for presents this year, it seemed. Just like Daniel had got Y/N something with Max on it, Charles had gotten Max something with Y/N on it.

That was the problem with the entire paddock knowing your business.

Max wasted no time in tearing off the wrapping paper. Staring back at him was several pictures of his girlfriend, winking as she stood on top of the podium. It was a picture from many years ago, back when she was in Formula 3, coming second place in the championship.

Max grabbed a hold of the item and held it towards the camera. "Oh my god," he said through a laugh.

It was a speedo, a speedo with Y/N printed on it again and again. "Are you going to use it?"

"Not in public," he said and laughed. "Did she get this?"

"Nope."

Max thought about it. Who on earth would get him this as a gift? He had hoped it was Y/N, buying it for him in the 'hopes' of him wearing it to bed.

But it wasn't her, so who could it be? "I seriously have no idea."

"It was Charles."

"Charles? Oh my god," he said again. "Well, thank you, Charles, I think," he said.

Charles just so happened to be walking past as the filming ended, Max still holding the speedo. "Do you like it?" He asked as he came walking over to him.

"Oh, I love it. I'll send you a picture when I try it on," he said and both men laughed.

***

To bring a short story to a conclusion, Y/N forced Max into a photoshoot in the speedo. Pictures just for her eyes, and maybe for Charles, too.

He posed in the speedo, leaning against the wall and staring into the camera. He didn't smile, but he was trying his best not to. It was no easy task. There were a few times where Y/N got his full, most genuine smile.

Y/N made him pose with the mug, drinking out of it. That she sent to Daniel.

The pictures made their rounds of the group chats, but they didn't go much further. If they ever got leaked, the couple would have been mortified.

All in all, it was a very successful F1 secret santa.

[dokries]

closet raid

pairing: choi seungcheol (s.coups) x gender neutral reader

genre: fluff, established relationship

word count: 444 (hehe 444 is my angel number)

warnings: mention of fake throwing up, heavily inspired by hoshi’s seungcheol hat rap, wearing cheol’s clothes

author note: this is something that’s been in the back of my mind for a while actually, so i hope you enjoy :D also, it’s not necessarily said that cheol’s clothes are oversized to be more inclusive! on a similar note, please tell me if i can make my fics more inclusive! i want to make sure that everyone can feel comfortable reading :) lots of love 🫶

masterlist

“oh that one is so cute too,” soonyoung says, watching you take out clothes from seungcheol’s closet.

in your hands is one of the shirts cheol wears at home, and the one you got him last week. it still smells like his cologne from the last time he wore it, and you giggle, as soonyoung looks at you weirdly. “oh my god, you love him, don’t you?”

you roll your eyes at your friend’s obnoxious grin, and put the shirt on the side, looking down at what you’re wearing—cheol’s red jersey and the cargo shorts he usually pairs with it.

“yeah…i do.” soonyoung pretends to throw up, and you protest, “hey! of course i do, i’m dating him for god’s sake.”

soonyoung gets up from laying down on the ground, his hair all over the place as he picks up the bucket hat he picked out earlier.

he stares at it, mumbling under his breath, “wow, this looks like it’s just my size…” he looks over at the pair of shoes his best friend had bought the week before and gasps, crawling over to it quickly. “these look perfect for me too.”

you chuckle at his excitement before you get interrupted by a voice coming from the door. “what do you think you’re doing, soonyoung?”

you turn to see seungcheol standing in the doorway, his eyebrows twitching at soonyoung's protective arms around his shoes. your boyfriend looks at you and smiles softly in greeting before turning back to soonyoung, who’s frozen on the ground in fear.

“um…” soonyoung smiles nervously at his friend. “hi cheolie!”

seungcheol raises an eyebrow before pointing down at soonyoung’s lap. “what are you doing with my bucket hat?”

soonyoung glances at you, begging for help, as you giggle, and he gets up, running out of the room with seungcheol’s clothes still in his arms.

“hey—” seungcheol yells before you grab his arm to stop him and place a kiss on his cheek. “go get that tiger.”

seungcheol melts in your hands before he picks himself back up and pats your cheek once you loosen your grip on him and winks.

“i will. you look really good in my clothes by the way, you better be wearing them when i get back!” he says softly before he runs after soonyoung, yelling out his friend’s name.

you smile at their antics, before looking down at your outfit consisting of just cheol’s clothes. it’s way too comfortable to take off, and you stare at his messy closet (of course, that’s yours and soonyoung’s fault).

…maybe your boyfriend wouldn’t mind that much if something else went missing if it’s you that’s the thief.

[joelhoney]

#1 girl

pairing: dbf joel miller x afab/sorority sister reader

kenny here... tumblr Blipped me u guys. but i loved this too much to let it waste into nothingness. so here we go again take two using an ancient blog i never even used (from 2016 mind u...) enjoy!

You're too wrapped up in sorority duties to remember somebody's supposed to pick you up and drive you home tonight. One pissed-off Joel, curious conversation, and cowboy hat later, your evening takes an unexpected turn.

warnings: no outbreak au, dbf!joel, self gratuitous age gap (21/51), shy reader w/ some bursts of confidence, blowjob (m receiving), handjob (f receiving), dirty talk, praise, degradation too..., overuse of pet names... must b all

Of all the ways you imagined spending your fifth day of spring break, the last was in your dad’s best friend’s pickup truck with lame rock playing dryly through the console radio. In fact, last is generous—the idea itself had never even been conjured in your head.

The reason why is because you and your dad’s best friend—Mr. Miller—don’t typically interact beyond the confines of dinners, mandatory laughter, and the occasional one-on-one about something like boys in college, or classes in college, or the drive to college. Nothing much had changed when you moved the brief drive away to UT Austin, and between you everything’s remained the same, even now in your senior year.

For instance, a break—summer, spring, winter—would begin with your parents picking you up and shuttling off to the house, and end with an affair of the similar sort. Quickly into your first year, though, you learned to always insist you either leave school late or leave home early for spring break to take advantage of campus parties, especially because your senior year had cemented your shiny new position as President of Alpha Phi.

Any officer position in a sorority already came with a good deal of responsibility, let alone the presidency; and in addition to having recently turned twenty-one, the role required you to exhaust every drop of social battery, every ounce of skill you had at party hosting and alcohol obtaining without the use of a flimsy fake.

The eliminated nerves of using fakes made you much less nervous during parties, which often led to you letting more loose than usual. This party you’re in was thrown by some frat on campus, but this house is your last place of four; first two pregames, then a bar, then here. At some point at the bar your sisters had surprised you with a fun gift for the night, so you’re also wearing a pink sash, onto which rhinestones spelling out #1 Girl have been glued with precision.

Already you’re dizzy, wiping clammy fingers on the stiff cotton of your tight tank top, the curve of your tits spilling over the Alpha Phi logo. It’s small on you, the hem high above your navel and higher above the loose, low hem of your denim shorts. If they fell low enough on your hips, the high arch of your pink thong would’ve shown itself—maybe it did at some point, you’re too loopy to care.

“Oh, no,” you’re saying, but you can barely hear yourself over the rap song playing and everyone singing along, “no, I hate Jäger.” You’re shaking your head at your best friend and Vice President, Lia, who raises two handfuls of the opaque liquid. She shakes her head, sets them down on the table you’re leaning against.

“Lighten up, duuude. We’re taking them to celebrate your first and last spring break as President.”

“Aw, fine,” you muse loudly, giving in. “Only this once.” Out of obligation and genuine gratitude, you allow yourself to stomach your least favorite drink—then another, and another, a bit of each shot dribbling down the column of your throat and stickily onto your chest.

Lia snaps at the red bra strap that peeks out of your tank strap, laughing. “Settle down, Prez.” A partygoer, rowdy as they come, roughly deposits a sweaty cowboy hat onto your head and you yelp in surprise, steadying it. Whoever gave this, I’m keeping it! you holler, laughing as you feed yourself a shot of something your tongue enjoys more.

Absolut crowds the inside of your mouth when you take it back, interrupted only when a hand comes to shake at your shoulder. In your rush to turn, you nearly hit them with your hat.

It’s Cole, a good friend and member of the frat whose house you’re currently getting tipsy in. His eyes are rimmed and the whole air of him smells like weed. He offers one greeting: “Yo.” His eyes slide down to your chest, where your tugged-down tank has exposed a few inches of your red bra’s lacy cups.

“Hey,” you say, the syllable sounding sticky. “Up here, you ass. Jägerbomb?” You offer a smile.

“‘M a’ight. Listen, some…” He shakes his head, like he’s trying to place what he’s here to tell you. Then he nods, having remembered—“Right. Some old guy’s out front asking for you.”

“Asking for me? Old… guy?” Your eyebrows scrunch together, mind foggy. “My dad?” Shit. You’d completely forgotten they’d be picking you up today or tomorrow. Maybe they’d been waiting for hours—it’s one-thirty, the clock on the living room mantel reads. 

“Nah, man, not your dad, this guy’s… he’s got a red pickup truck, um, he’s, like, he’s old looking.” He raises a hand above his own head. “Tall.” His voice is drawly with the weed high, but as soon as he said red pickup, you knew exactly who he was talking about. One look at your phone confirms it—five missed calls and a message, 11PM, sent by your dad: Joel’s in the area for work. He’s going out with buddies but can swing by the house to pick you up. I’m giving him your #.

“Fuck.” You blink. “Fuck! I gotta go.” 

You never usually have to pack shit to go home, considering the drive isn’t too far. Briefly you consider making a detour to collect things from your sorority house, but you decide to sacrifice the laptop and the few important chargers. So, armed with only your phone, you wrench your way out of the crowd, a few goodbyes thrown in your direction and back.

The front door is open so the partygoers spill onto the front yard, intermittent conversation littering the area. Along the pavement, frat guys’ Civics and and Priuses are parked beside an old looking red pickup truck; leaned against it is—

“Mr. Miller,” you blurt out when you’re closer to him, voice steady (your mind is just as well, shocked back to lucidity from his presence). “I’m sorry. I had no idea you’d be picking me up today—tonight—” You heave a sigh, apologetic, refusing to meet his eyes. “Sorry.”

His arms are crossed over his chest, the sleeves of his button-up rolled up to his elbows. Even from a few feet away you can make out the shape, the lines of muscle on his forearms. He looks tired, moody—more than usual—and your heart pangs with guilt at the idea that you could be the reason behind it. But despite your best—really, your best—efforts, your stomach still swoops the same way it did when you were seventeen and naive, enough to find next-door-neighbor Mr. Miller extremely handsome. Hell, extremely hot.

It didn’t make sense. You’d suspected your little crush would be that—an adolescent, childish thing, evaporating more and more into thin air with every drive made to campus. But he never stopped being handsome, never stopped his corny jokes and the pet names that got you warm every time you visited over break. You had plenty of eye candy on campus, athletes and gamers alike, and yes you’d been picky, but had managed to sleep with a select few—despite all of it, only the remnants of your fantasies of Mr. Miller satiated you when your hand creeps into the apex of your thighs late at night, lust wrangling shame into silence for a few minutes.

You blink and the train of thought is over—the real thing is here, eyebrows set low, mouth frowning.

“Kiddo,” he starts, his voice thin with exhaustion, “look, I’ve done my share of… drinkin’, and that. I get it. But you gotta…” He clicks his tongue, eyes looking your outfit up and down. “You gotta let me know, let your parents know, where you are, and if you’re okay. ‘Cause I really did not want to spend tonight drivin’ from house to bar, to bar to house, feelin’ like I was lookin’ all over Austin for you.”

“I know,” you supply quickly, nodding. Your hands, fidgety, find purchase on the fibres of the silk sash strung along your figure. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Miller. I didn’t check my phone the entire evening, and—”

“It’s okay.” He says, nonchalant, lifting himself off the side of the car to walk to the drivers’ side. Gruffly, he adds, “Car.”

You’re quick to tug the door open, settling yourself on the passenger seat and breathing nervously. Your legs are littered with body glitter, your chest with the tack of Jäger. You spot him outside, his walk slow. He’s annoyed—rightfully so—stopping just shy of the door to pinch at the bridge of his nose, his lips miming a slow exhale. When he finally wrangles himself to sit, it’s quiet for a minute, then another.

“Y’have fun?” He starts the car, thrumming it to life. You nod, then offer a verbal answer—yeah. He nods, wiping a palm over his face. “What were you up to?” 

“I, um… I organized a pregame for my sorority.” You toy with the rogue strands of denim of your shorts. “We went to a bar, after… then another… then, well.” You gulp. “Here.” The last question escapes you in a shaky, breathy squeak. “And you?”

“Hah, sure, kid. Had some contractor thing, half an hour from here. Then drinks with a coupl’a buddies from work. Could’ve been home by eleven-thirty,” he says roughly, driving through the still-vibrant streets of campus, “but it’s nearin’ two and I’m on a college campus.” The urge to apologize bubbles at your lips, high in your stomach, but you remain quiet. After a few stretches of dry silence, he asks again. “That party must’ve been real fun for you to leave your old man—and me—on radio silence, wun’nit?”

“Sure,” you manage, stammering. “We were celebrating my sorority presidency.” The dark scenery of Austin blurs past. 

“Oh, sorority presidency,” he repeats, both teasing and genuinely curious. “I did hear your dad mention you were in Alpha Phi, s’that right?” You nod. “What’s that, then? Do presidents get cowboy hats?”

Your face grows hot, hands reaching up to clutch at the rim of the hat atop your head. “No, this—somebody put it—it was a joke, Mr. Miller.” A huffy laugh escapes you. “Sorry.”

“Sweetheart,” he says, and you wrench the reminder he’s 51 he’s 51 he’s 51 through your head while he pauses, “‘m drivin’ you around Austin late at night, and I’ve known you for your whole life. How ‘bout we drop the Mr. Miller act, alright?”

“Oh. Okay,” you say. His hands grip the steering wheel firmly, and your eyes wander to his arms, to how he’s basically stuffed into the shirt he’s wearing, big and broad and bulky. His eyes remain focused ahead, so you let yourself indulge a tad bit more—lower, to the material of his jeans. It’s dark in the truck, so you can’t see much, just the flex of his thighs. “Joel.”

“Attagirl.” You chew at the inside of your cheek, already feeling arousal simmering in you, low and dirty. You’re going to soak through this godforsaken thong. “Mind if I make a pit stop?” You shake your head profusely, watch as he pulls into a gas station parking lot. “Want anythin’, girl?”

“N—” your lips form, but you scrap your original answer. “Gum, if they have it.”

“Be damned if they don’t.” He slams the door shut and you watch him enter the store, watch him through the glass panels. He’s so broad. You’d nearly completely forgotten how stupidly you liked him, and now it’s coming, throttling back full-force, especially with the thrilling aspect of it possibly coming to fruition. You are, after all, an adult. And so is he, paying for his shit with a tight-lipped expression, arms crossed again, arms big and—Jesus.

You squeeze your thighs together, willing yourself to get your shit in place when he pulls the door open again, his eyes scanning your seated figure. He tosses you the packet of gum, and you respond with a sweet thank you, Mr. M—Joel, and you fiddle with the packaging as he starts the car again, driving until scenery grows more and more familiar, closer to home.

“By the way,” he says, voice husky with the unuse of not talking for a while. “Think it’s best you spend the night at my house tonight, kid. It’s late. Later than late.” 2:44, the console digital clock reads in blinky red text. “Your parents don't want the door rattlin’ open at this hour, so I’ll let you in the guest room.”

“Oh,” you say. “Sure.”

“D’you have a change of clothes?” He asks, even if he knows you climbed into the seat with nothing but your phone and a cowboy hat. You shake your head and he tsks. “You’re barely covered, sweetheart. Best be careful walkin’ around when the night’s this chilly.”

Barely covered. You think of every possible response, but what leaves your glossed lips is the riskiest: “What do you mean, barely covered?”

You figure if he starts saying shit like what are you insinuatin’, kiddo? You better sleep at yours tonight instead, it’s an easy out—you’re turning the corner onto your street now, and your stomach is boiling with nerves, sticky and anticipatory. “I jus’ mean… it shows a lotta skin.” 

“It’s sorority merch, Joel,” you reply, half-amused and half-defensive.

“No, I”—he sighs, like he wants to backtrack what he’s just said—“I know, but… always worth somethin’ to be careful. Might catch a cold with all that leg… all that—you—showin’.” He parks in front of his house, this sizey, homey thing, and your heart flips knowing how familiar this place has been to you your entire life.

“I’m not going to wear winter gear to a spring break frat party.” You’re bolder, suddenly, but even if the statement is, your voice is level, meek, even. Joel nods, as if admitting defeat, and gets out of the car first; you follow, sneakers crunching against the asphalt as you follow him into the house.

“I hope,” he starts when you’re stationed beside him at the door, “I didn’t… offend you. I was jus’ concerned, is all.” Then he’s stoic again, slipping inside, straight to the kitchen to pour you a glass of water. He flicks a yellow light on and you squint when you get there, rubbing at your eyes to prevent them from aching.

You’re still rubbing at them when his gaze drops from your fussed-up hair and askew hat down to the shiny surface of your chest. Your goddamn top leaves him nothing to the imagination, your tits spilling out of it scandalously. The low cut even lets your bra peek through, red and bright and hey, you show up from college wearing these large university shirts and sweatpants—not this, never this. And your shorts, the way they’re really just a fucking belt, starting low on your hips and cut off high above your thighs.

Alpha Phi, the pink text on your white top reads on the left chest area. Right where your tits curve into the top, the slogan is printed: Union hand in hand. God, sororities and their fucking… quotable bullshit. And don’t get him started on the sash, this cutesy, frilly thing he wants to loop around your wrists so he can fuck you over the counter. He knows he can’t—it’s so wrong, so wrong. He’s known your dad for ages. 

But you… you're so tempting, a little minx, chirping Mr. Miller all sweet and apologetic, chest out on full display. He blinks when he hears your voice filter through the fog in his head. “—off?”

“What was that, sweetheart?” His eyes meet yours again and he feels a twinge of embarrassment at the way your bashfulness has somewhat melted to give way to the clear amusement on your face. You must’ve spotted the way he ogled you; he wasn’t exactly trying his hardest to be subtle, unfortunately. 

“D’you have something I can use to wipe myself off?” You gesture to your sticky collarbone area. “I got Jäger all over myself. Can’t handle the stuff.” You grimace at the memory, and he goes to grab a wet wipe; while waiting, you hoist yourself up onto the counter, bare legs swinging.

Joel turns to toss you the packet of wipes, but his throat dries before he can even call your name out. Your back is to him, and clearly you’re waiting for his return—you’ve busied yourself by sitting on his counter and letting the hot pink lace of your thong rise above the waistline of your shorts. Lord have mercy, he thinks to himself, adjusting his jeans as he walks back over to you.

“Wipes,” he says roughly, not anything else.

You accept the packet and smile shyly. “Can you…” you pause, the implication hovering over both of you, heavy. “Wait for me?” He nods, inviting. Warm. And he watches, inviting but not very warm anymore, the way you wipe over the expanse of your chest, over the curve of your tits, every other part of you dusted in glitter.

“So,” you say again. “Since we’re on first name basis now, Joel, I, um—I hope it’s okay to ask questions.”

“Sounds reasonable. Go for it,” he accepts. 

“When’s the last time you went to a party?” Your smile is mischievous. 

He chuckles, a huff of air. “...Long, long ago, kid. Back in my day, partyin’ meant beer, maybe a little weed… not that I'm complaining there, you understand.” He nods resolutely. “These days, a quiet home-cooked meal with just the people I really care about… is a party.”

“Wow, what an old guy answer,” you giggle. “Back in youuuur day.” Your raspy, honeyed voice wraps around the your with a teasing lilt.

“Oh, I’m old now, am I?” His stoic demeanor chips away when he laughs. “That makes you what, sweetheart? You’re barely a pup.”

At his words—at the utterance of pup—you roll your eyes and try to shift your seating so your thong doesn’t stick to your folds. “Okay, fine, next.” You’re not even wiping anymore, the material wrung into your fingers, which lay in a fist by your side. “When’s the last time you got shitfaced?”

He gives a grimace of a smile. “Aw… boy, it's been a while.” He comes closer, going from leaning on the opposite drawers to right beside you on the counter. You’re sitting and he’s leaning but still he’s taller, just a bit level. “But there was that one time back in my more adventurous days, when I was younger. A bachelor party wh… well, the details don't really bear talkin’ ‘bout in polite conversation.” He raises his eyebrows. “Why ya askin’ all this? What’s will all the last times?”

“I’m curious, is all.” You smile, leaning back; if his eyes drop just a bit, he’ll see right through your top, maybe even underneath the cup of your bra. “Okay, fine one last… last time.” You giggle, breathy. “When’s the last time you… had sex?”

The air shifts, and Joel clears his throat before chuckling. “S’none of your business, young lady. A gentleman is not raised to kiss and tell.”

“Oh, but he gets shitfaced n’ tells?” You test, pouting and leaning closer toward him so you can quiet your voice. “Come on. I won’t tell anyone I even asked.”

He sighs, contemplating. “Well… it’s been a while.” He gets his fair share of lays, when he goes out to bars with friends or the rare date, but nothing too drastic. It has been a few months. “But you didn’t hear that from me, understood? Now, let’s drop it.”

But you don’t drop it, you brat. “You’re like the born again 40-year-old virgin,” you tease smoothly.

“Try 51, honey,” he grunts out, depositing your dry wipes at the disposal across you. He turns back around, restrained. 

“And what, you don’t wanna change that?” No, he thinks—what he wants is to take you over the counter ’til you’re sobbing and sore.

“Hey now, don’t think I don’t think about it sometimes. But I jus’—I don't wanna get involved with no one, even though... Hell, if I met the right person, I might just change my mind. Ain’t that the way it goes?”

“That’s such an antiquated view of sex,” you quip boldly, pressing your arms to your sides. “What happened to just having one good fuck?”

His eyes flicker down then up. “Well, hey. Slow down with the cursin’, sweetheart. And what in the hell makes you think I don’t do that?” He crosses his arms, offering a raised eyebrow and an insufferably smug smile.

“You didn’t necessarily object when I called you a twice-over virgin.”

He chuckles. “There’s more than one way to let it all out, my girl. You don’t have to just go all in to hit the spot.” The thought of him using his own—or some girl’s, actually, hand, throat… to get off, gets you all hot. You want to be that girl. His girl.

“Like how?” You ask, tilting your head to the side.

“Old man like myself probably can’t offer tricks you’ll find… useful.” He grunts, prepares to go upstairs. He reaches over you for the packet of wipes and your proximity urges him to stop, savor the closeness before the rational part of him reminds him you’re his best mate’s daughter.

“Okay, fine,” you say sweetly, voice much quieter—reserved just for the space between you two. “One last, then.”

Mmm, he huffs affirmatively, greenlighting your request. Impatient.

“Since when did old men do that?” You ask, inquisitive, placing emphasis on his self-proclaimed old man title.

“What? Entertain l’il minxes like yourself?” He responds, intending to break your newly-built façade of smugness.

“No,” you respond coolly. “Pack nine inches.” Then you’re clambering off the counter and walking to the stairs. He inhales sharply at the sudden vulgarity of your words, watches every move, every little bounce of your pert ass under the tiny shorts, the wave of your hair, every flex of the ridden-up lace thong against your back.

You turn briefly. “Coming or what?” And then you slip upstairs.

He hears the pad of your footsteps grow quiet and shuts his eyes, letting his composure waver in your absence.

Had he known Harold’s little girl would turn out to be the world’s biggest fucking tease—Jesus Christ. “Lord,” he rasps under his breath, repeating a mantra, holding back the urge to palm himself through his jeans. “Lord, have mercy.” Then he follows you, already spotting something different—the open door at the end of the hall.

His open door. It’s the one that directly mirrors your parents’, a revelation they all had a good laugh at. Sometimes if a matter was so pressing, a well-aimed pebble to the glass window would get Joel’s attention well enough. The lights are flicked on, cool-warm, in his bedroom. You’re in his bedroom. 

Or you’re not. He walks in to find no trace of you, save for the scuffed white sneakers by the doorframe. He toes off his own boots and spots the walk-in closet light’s also been flicked on. 

“Christ, you’re quick. You’re s’posed to be in the guest room.” He gestures vaguely to the one on the left side of the hall, even if you can’t see him.

“I had to pee. And I needed something to sleep in,” you say politely from inside. He grunts softly to himself at the thought of you undressing in there, the thought of you pulling on something of his. 

“Get out of there,” he orders. “I’ll get you somethin’.” Under his breath he mutters, “S’my goddamn closet.”

You chirp okay but he adds anyway: “Hurry, out.”

So you do follow him, even follow the order to hurry, because you’re hasty in your exit, clutching the cowboy hat to your chest. “Sit.” He points to the bed, watches you set the hat next to yourself gingerly. And one last time he asks the Lord for mercy, quietly and in his head, before shutting off every other rational thought that had stopped him tonight. 

You follow suit, hat still clutched to your torso, and he slowly comes to stand just in front of you, your face level with the buckle of his leather belt. When you shift he catches sight of the side of your bra, the lace of it. Eyes cast to your bare thighs, you pipe up.

“By the way, Mr. Miller—Joel, I didn’t mean to say any of—I mean, I thought we could talk comfortably about it… that… stuff, but I took it too f—” 

“You’re damn fuckin’ right you took it too far.”

He spits it out roughly, harshly. Like he’s scolding you. A zip of shock goes through you—you hadn’t heard him swear so loud before. Maybe he is. “I give you a free ride home at half past one, give you water, give you a place to sleep for the night knowin’ damn well your momma n’ dad would both have killed ya if you stepped foot in that house wearin’ next to nothing. What do I get in return?” He looks down at you, two rough fingers jerking your chin to look up at him.

“I—” you squeak, your voice and confidence betraying you. You’ve soaked through your panties at his sudden switch in behavior. Like you’d broken a dam.

“I get a brat… whorin’ herself out to me like I’m not over twice her age.” He tuts, like he really is disappointed, and your heart almost drops. “I get all these damn questions about sex, like you think I’ll break and fuck you on my kitchen counter.” He was considering it. “All the teasin’, all the skirtin’ around in a thong and a fuckin’…” He shakes your chin. “S’there even anythin’ in that head of yours, honey?”

Your mouth’d been open. You shut it and lick over your lips. “Yeah,” you defend weakly. His hand lowers to stroke at the column of your throat, then to hook under the tight strap of your bra, peeking out under the white of your top. He sidles it back and forth.

“S’this why you asked me all those dumb questions downstairs, huh, sweetheart? ‘Cause you wanted me to pull your top open and fawn over this”—he yanks the hat away, revealing your torso underneath—“little show o’yours?” Your cleavage is sinful, downright—perfect, perky, inviting him to mouth at your tits. Your sash sits prettily above them and he can’t help but pull at it, too, jolting you toward him. 

“N—” you inhale sharply, letting him pull and push you around as he pleases. He observes the blinding glittery writing on the pink material and lets out a humorless, self-satisfied huff of laughter.

“Number… one… girl.” His rough thumb grazes over the divots of the rhinestones. “That’s jus’ about right, ain’t it?”

“Yes,” you reply, voice small. 

“I’m not sure I agree, baby girl,” he drawls. His touch is precise—he knows exactly where to go, what he’s doing—but rough, dirty, almost, and the huge size of his hands don’t help to support otherwise. He tugs down your tank top so it’s tucked underneath your bra, and you yelp, making a move to cover yourself. He laughs again—“Sure, go all shy on me like you haven’t been showin’ yourself off to me all night. Knees.”

You get off quick, so quick you’re dizzy when you steady yourself on two knees. Two lithe hands make their way to his belt but he steps backward, revels in your evident confusion, clumsiness, the flush high on your cheekbones. “Buckle down, sweetheart.”

“But—”

“No goddamn buts. Listen to me.” He ends up being the one to make work of his belt, and while he talks you have to bite your lip to keep from going slack-jawed at the sight of him. You’d been kidding about the nine inches thing, but Christ he’s huge, strained against the tight denim. He’s thick even under the layers of clothing, and all you want to do is choke on him. “You’re gonna let me use that mouth t’get off, first thing,” he grunts, like this is all some chore to him, “because I am not goin’ to put my cock in my best mate’s daughter.”

“How about,” you croak lightly, “your fingers, then?”

“Jesu—we’ll see.” He tugs his cock out then, and he’s fucking huge, he really is, his tip angry and flushed and being rubbed along your lips, sticking them up with his precum. He sighs contentedly, humming low, the vibration sent straight to your half-open mouth. You suck on the tip of him, watch a slow smile form on his face. “That sash oughta say somethin’ else.”

Your silence grants elaboration. “Number one slut, maybe.” You shift on your thighs, trying to hide how aroused you are at his mean behavior. But he can tell, he can watch the way your blinking slows, the way your eyes glazed over, glassy and teary from trying to take more of him. He doesn’t tell you to slow down, or go faster; he just watches, eyebrows knitted, focused. “Budge up.” 

A hand, big and calloused, threads through your hair and gives a tug, goading your mouth open so more of his cock slips past. Your jaw aches from the attempt alone, so you pull off before you start choking too much, tonguing at the parts of him you can’t reach—lower, until you’re laving at his balls. He grunts, pleasured, simmered down. Attagirl. Then you’re back, bobbing up and down, trying despite yourself to take all of him, until your eyes are watery and you’re spluttering, choked.

“Now this is…” He says, and it comes out in a contented little sigh, “a number one throat. Keep those pretty lips open, honey, ‘m gonna fuck them.”

You do, your achy jaw slacked as he begins bucking into your mouth, the sounds of your choking only spurring him on. He’s dominant, taking and taking, and you’re humiliated to find how wet you are, soaked through the lace of your thong and darkening the denim of your shorts.  The tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat only gets him to thrust even faster, watching tears fall from your eyes, streaky with mascara. His best friend’s daughter, taking dick like a fucking champ.

He thrusts harder, each sound emitting a nasty, incoherent noise out of you, choked little gasps that have him harder each time. Gonna fuck this throat raw, he mutters. Since that’s what you wan’ed, ain’t it? You reach up, light fingers massaging his balls, and then his hips stutter, and with barely any warning, you feel his hot seed shoot into your throat, little satisfied groans leaving the man above you.

You swallow what you can, limited by his dick still in your mouth. When he pulls out you lap at the cum left behind, circle your tongue around your lips, make a whole show of it. You speak again, your voice raspy and spent: “Please, my turn?”

He lifts you up and smirks at the way you yelp in surprise, tossing you onto the bed and pulling you back onto your knees, your back to his chest. He wrangles your shorts off, gives your ass a smack as he pulls them down, enough to expose what’s underneath. The stiff material gathers just above your bent knees, restraining you from moving much.

“D’you know what,” he says, still sounding angry—like he’s lecturing you, stern, “I could’ve been in bed, wakin’ up at six to work… instead I gotta teach this little brat a fuckin’ lesson. Your old man not teach y’enough manners?” He tugs your bra down, thumbs roughly at your pebbled nipples, wrenching a moan out of you. He’s hard again, dick poking into your ass, and fuck you want him in you.

“He didn’t,” you sniffle, pitiful. “Y’gotta teach me, Daddy.”

“Oh, she likes that, don’t she?” He grumbles, like the title is annoying, juvenile. The way his cock twitches tells you otherwise. “Shut up, baby honey. I got this.” He reaches up your thighs and the ticklish, pleasurable sensation gets you hot.

Joel, you whimper, seizing in on yourself. He grabs your other arm, pulls it back toward him so you remain open and pliant. Please, wait.

“No time for waitin’, not when you spend hours prancin’ around like a little whore, sweetheart.” Without preamble, he’s running his fingers up your thighs again, not stopping this time until his fingers are pressing into your clit, rubbing over the thin, soaked fabric of your panties. “And you’re so fucking wet for me. My number one girl, ain’t you?”

“Yea,” you babble dumbly. “Your number one girl.”

“Thaaat’s right. My girl needs her needy cunt filled up, don’t she? By Daddy’s fat fingers.” You nod along, drawn in by the vulgarity of his words, the way he spits them out. You’ve spent several nights fantasizing how his big, rough hands would feel on you—and you’ve been outproven. He’s so fast, so skilled with his fingers; they feel delicious in you. And you can’t stop thinking about all of those girls he implied he’s slept with, the way they probably got to this first. Lucky bitches.

He’s gotten you so wet the entire night, even moreso now, that your pussy is making obscene squelching noises with each pump of his fingers, these nastily loud noises that humiliate you, that turn you on even more, that make you drip all onto Joel’s linen sheets. Fuck, you whimper. He swats at your ass. No swearing, he’s saying.

“Look up for me, honey. Up at the window.” Outside, the sun’s beginning to crawl over Austin, just the faint blues and yellows of early morning. You realize you know this because his curtain’s been pulled open—by him, earlier, before any of this even started, you assume. And the only other thing you can see other than the sky and the sliver of the neighborhood is your parents’ window.

“No,” you plead, looking down. He doesn’t let you, tugs you back up to look by your hair. He knows your parents won’t be up ’til seven-thirty latest. But you don’t know that, and for now, you don’t have to.

“What then, huh, sweetheart? When they go to check on the weather n’ they see their best friend poundin’ their young daughter? What’d they think?” You jerk away, overcome with pleasure and embarrassment at the imaginary situation. You feel his fingers pump in and out of you, filling you up. They’re probably thick and hot, glistening each time they come out. You’re tightening up; you’ll cum soon, make a mess on his hand, which already drips with slick. “So you better hurry. Better make a mess on me soon.”

“I am, I’m—I’m gonna,” you moan. You’re wrapped up in the way his fingers play you just the right way. You’re so close to the surface, and you’ve been wanting this for way too long, so you nod, let yourself get carried away by his words, let yourself give in, spreading your legs as wide as they can go as he fingerfucks you, working out the tension that’s been building up for forever. 

“That’s my number one girl,” he grins into your neck, and you’re convulsing release onto his hand, wetting it even further. He wraps a hand around your waist, keeps you close to his figure, his erection at the small of your back. “That’s it, honey. Did so well for me.”

“I want it,” you say meekly. “Even if they see.”

He groans. “Sweetheart, you must think real low of me to believe I’d put my cock anywhere near Harold’s daughter’s pussy.”

You tug your panties fully down, just enough so they fall off on their own the rest of the way, and guide his slick hand behind yourself, pressing his finger first into your folds again, sensitive, and then up toward your tighter hole.

You feel his breath tighten behind you when you say: “How ‘bout there?”

[paperultra]

space cadet.

Pairing: OPLA!Vinsmoke Sanji x Reader Word Count: 831 words Warnings: None

reverie (noun): a state of being pleasantly lost in one's thoughts; a daydream

You imagine the thoughts in your head as a forest of kelp at the bottom of the sea: dense, beautiful, brimming with life and all too easy to get lost in.

They’ve caused you trouble in the past. Countless rapped knuckles, letters sent home to your parents, walking into trees on the way home from school. But how could you resist? Empires rose and fell over the course of an hour inside your mind, mighty beasts swore their allegiance to you and the four seas were yours to explore. The childhood you had in the real world was so dull and lonely in comparison.

When you ran off and joined the Straw Hats, you finally had the excitement you had so craved. And yet, even now, your mind still wanders.

“If you swab the deck any more, we won’t have any left, sweetheart.”

Only a select few can bring you back.

You blink rapidly, the clouds dissipating as you stop scrubbing and look up. Sanji’s already smiling when you meet his gaze.

He lifts his hands; one offers a plate of shortbread cookies, the other a glass of milk.

“I’m going to guess that you haven’t had a break in a while,” he says. “Am I right?”

A break? Sending him a perplexed frown, you lean on the handle of your scrub brush and glance over your shoulder.

The side on which you had started winks back at you from afar, wood gleaming under the afternoon sun.

Oh.

“I … I guess so,” you reply slowly, turning back to him. It’s only then that you register the saltwater washing over your feet and the ache in your muscles. “I didn’t even realize …”

He shakes his head and chuckles, leading you to some nearby crates to sit down. “Too caught up in your stories again? I’m almost jealous that they get to spend so much time with you.”

“I don’t mean to make you worry.”

“Loving someone means worrying about them from time to time.”

He winks, and you smile, flustered.

“I see,” you say quietly. “Then thank you for worrying, Sanji.”

“Of course.” He hands you the glass of milk, then picks up a cookie and taps it against your lips. “Now, this is my best batch of sablés. You have no idea how hard it was to keep Luffy from eating them all in the kitchen.”

“I have some idea,” you drawl amusedly, taking a bite.

The cookie breaks with a gentle snap. It crumbles delightfully in your mouth, sugar and butter dancing on your tongue. A pleased hum rumbles in your throat before you wash it down with a gulp of cold milk.

“What do you think?”

“I think I might eat the whole plate right now,” you say, taking the other half of the cookie.

He grins. “So you like them.”

“They’re delicious.” Picking up another one, you hold it in front of his face. “Here.”

Sanji’s gaze remains locked with yours as he leans forward to take a bite of the cookie, his lips brushing your fingertips in an impromptu kiss before he pulls away. He chews thoughtfully. The action should not look as good as it does.

“My best batch, as I’ve said,” he tells you once he swallows. “But I’ve tasted sweeter.”

You tilt your head. “Where?”

His mouth curls into a smirk, and he places his fingers under your chin to bring your face closer to his. Your noses touch and you can feel his answer against your lips as he murmurs, “Right here.”

The rest of the crew may also have the pleasure of eating Sanji’s food, but they do not share your privilege of knowing just how talented he is at kissing.

He sets down the plate and lifts his hand to cup your jaw, meeting your lips and letting out a soft sigh before pressing his lips more fervently against yours. You can taste the smoke on his tongue, a constant underneath the warm sweetness of sugar and the saltiness of butter. Your eyes flutter closed, and you reach up to cradle the back of his head, fingers tangling in his hair and tugging slightly. The groan he lets out sends tingles down to the tips of your toes.

“Sweetheart,” he pants, and the longing in his voice would’ve made your knees buckle if you were standing, “I won’t be able to stop if you keep doing that.”

You put your glass of milk down so you can bury both hands in his golden hair. Your forehead touches his. “Maybe that’s a good thing.”

“Maybe it is,” he mutters.

You bring him back in for another searing kiss that Sanji returns just as eagerly.

Yes, you value your time alone with your thoughts. They are a forest of kelp at the bottom of the sea, beautiful, countless, and wild.

But as easy as it is to get lost in your thoughts, it is infinitely easier to get lost in him.

[queenimmadolla]

For the one word prompt ♥️

Eddie, friendship, angst (i feel like being sad tn lol)

𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬

“So, that happened.” Eddie’s knuckles rapped against his knees, an obvious sign of nerves.

The two of you were in Nancy Wheeler’s basement, surrounded by junk food and atrocious party hats to celebrate Argyle’s birthday. Pizza had arrived a couple of minutes ago, and everyone had suddenly decided eating upstairs was more appealing. Everyone, except you.

Your stomach was still turning from the event that took place three days ago. That, coupled with the other person involved also being in attendance of your friend group’s get together made for some unsettling waves in your belly. Some alone time would have been beneficial.

Then Eddie came back down before the rest of them and you wanted to die.

“Y-yeah,” you stuttered out, gaze focused on the television where Kim Carnes was so aesthetically crooning out about Bette Davis’ eyes, “I didn’t think they’d actually do it. Pretty sure they shaved a couple of years off their lifespan.”

Jonathan and Argyle, both cross faded, decided it would be a good idea to see who could handle eating a spoonful of salt better. Jonathan had coughed his out and stated his chest hurt.

“You know I wasn’t talking about that.”

You could feel the heavy weight of his gaze, face heating up while you picked at your nail polish.

When you didn’t say anything else, you heard him sigh and sink further into his chair.

“We slept together, Bits. That’s a pretty big fucking deal.”

Oh god. Why’d he have to say it outloud?

“I know, I was there.” You snapped, recalling how you’d gone over to his trailer to return a cassette of his—like you’d done a hundred damn times—with not a single fucking ulterior motive, and ended sweaty, naked and plastered to Eddie well into the night and early morning.

See, you had no trouble blowing a single moment of weakness over, that wouldn’t destroy your friendship. Make it a little awkward for a couple of days, but you’d be fine.

Unfortunately, it hadn’t been a single time. The two of you had reached for each other throughout the night and he’d been inside you for a large majority of that time.

You’d internally freaked the fuck out when you woke up, but Eddie was a heavy sleeper so you’d been able to make a quiet escape. Once you realized how much trouble that could have caused, you’d gone back over to Eddie’s only to see Steve’s car parked out front, and you’d overheard the conversation between the two through his open bedroom window, with Eddie stating he’d been glad you left in the morning.

You didn’t stick around after that.

“Not for long,” came his catty reply and you finally glared at him to find him already scowling right back; eyebrows pinched, chocolate brown eyes hardened and irritation written clearly all over his face.

“What do you want me to say? We both already know it shouldn’t have happened, so why talk about it?”

Eddie felt a sharp pang in his chest, but he refused to allow you to see how vulnerable he really was, not if you’d be breaking his heart tonight.

He’d been ecstatic when it happened, when you kept wanting him. The group would constantly tease him about you, all of them sure you would inevitably get together but Eddie was a pessimist. You’d been friends for a while and yeah—sometimes, it felt like you wanted the hugs the two of you would exchange to last as long as he did, but he never caught you staring. It was always the other way around and his wishful thinking would only get him hurt.

Then it wasn’t wishful, not that night. All Eddie knew was bliss and the pessimist in him was happy to retire until he’d woken up and you were gone. He felt a mixture of emotions and called Steve over to vent; while he was somewhat relieved you’d gone home—simply because he was terrified he would have said something stupid by talking out of his ass with nerves and end up driving you away—Eddie was eager to see you again but anxious on what to say.

With the pep talk from Steve, and how the two of you were obviously meant to be if the universe had finally brought you together like this, Eddie was ready for the talk.

Except, it didn't happen because you’d been actively avoiding him. He knew what that meant. Pessimist, remember?

“Because if we don’t talk about it, I’m afraid you won’t talk to me again.”

Your stiff posture relaxed, guilt sinking into your bones because you knew he was right, you had been ready to avoid anything but small talk with him and you hated it because he was one of your friends. You would have been in the wrong because you couldn’t face the consequences of your actions.

But. But, but, but…you knew you would have caved.

Eventually.

“That’s not true, Eddie.”

“Isn’t it?”

God, you also hated how he seemingly knew the way this conversation would play out, expecting every single one of your responses.

“It’s not,” you shifted uncomfortably in your seat, vulnerability was not something you liked to share. You liked to be the upbeat, chipper, groovy friend. Even when you weren’t. It was easy that way, keeping everything to yourself, “This is so embarrassing to say, given what got us into this, but I can’t stay away from you. You’re my friend and our friendship means everything to me.”

Eddie was your friend, who didn’t want you. Not like you wanted him. And he didn’t have to.

“I don’t want to lose you, Bits.” Eddie’s resolve melted away, no longer was he the intimidating metal head who looked unapproachable. He was your friend again, “Especially, over this.”

Over you not wanting him; not wanting to kiss him, not wanting to intertwine your fingers, not wanting to sleep in his bed, not wanting to love him the way he loved you. It hurt. 

It hurt like hell and he felt like he was bleeding out but if it meant you’d stay in his life, he’d bleed out for the rest of it. 

“I don’t want to lose you, either, Eddie. Can we please be Bits and Eds again? Without the hormones ruining it?”

What you meant was, can you please forget about how nice I said it was to have you hold me?

You could see how glassy his eyes were and you were sure yours were no better. 

He gave you a small smile, arms opening up for a hug, “Of course.”

What Eddie meant to say was, I should’ve dealt with the awkward morning after and been awake to keep you from leaving. 

When you got up to curl into his lap for a hug–heart aching–the thought of how nice it was to be in his arms popped up again.

You shot that thought down and blew the smoke away from the barrel, your own heart bleeding in your hands.

[linghxr]

75 essential single-character verbs (单字动词)

When I started consuming more native Chinese content, I quickly discovered an area in which my knowledge was lacking: single-character verbs. In my experience, it’s very easy to focus on learning words consisting of two or more characters and overlook single-character words.

Driven by curiosity, I went through my Anki deck (and also wracked my brain) to generate a list of characters/words that I have learned over the past couple years (roughly). Then I selected 75 verbs that are fairly common and important to know. They skew towards intermediate and advanced vocabulary.

Definitions are from MDBG. For characters with additional meanings that I am not yet familiar with, I have bolded the meanings I want to share.

(1) 抢 qiǎng - to fight over / to rush / to scramble / to grab / to rob / to snatch

(2) 救 jiù - to save / to assist / to rescue

(3) 扶 fú - to support with the hand / to help sb up / to support oneself by holding onto something / to help

(4) 催 cuī - to urge / to press / to prompt / to rush sb / to hasten sth / to expedite

(5) 夹 jiā - to press from either side / to place in between / to sandwich / to carry sth under armpit / wedged between / between / to intersperse / to mix / to mingle / clip / folder / Taiwan pr. [jia2]

(6) 咬 yǎo - to bite / to nip

(7) 砸 zá - to smash / to pound / to fail / to muck up / to bungle

(8) 毁 huǐ - to destroy / to ruin / to defame / to slander

(9) 嚷 rǎng - to shout / to bellow / to make a big deal of sth / to make a fuss about sth

(10) 塞 sāi - to stop up / to squeeze in / to stuff / cork / stopper

(11) 贪 tān - to have a voracious desire for / to covet / greedy / corrupt

(12) 拆 chāi - to tear open / to tear down / to tear apart / to open

(13) 掏 tāo - to fish out (from pocket) / to scoop

(14) 跪 guì - to kneel

(15) 摘 zhāi - to take / to borrow / to pick (flowers, fruit etc) / to pluck / to select / to remove / to take off (glasses, hat etc)

(16) 拎 līn - to lift up / to carry in one's hand / Taiwan pr. [ling1]

(17) 扛 káng - to carry on one's shoulder / (fig.) to take on (a burden, duty etc)

(18) 拽 zhuài - to pull / to tug at (sth)

(19) 愣 lèng - to look distracted / to stare blankly / distracted / blank / (coll.) unexpectedly / rash / rashly

(20) 搂 lǒu - to hug / to embrace / to hold in one's arms

(21) 垮 kuǎ - to collapse (lit. or fig.)

(22) 撑 chēng - to support / to prop up / to push or move with a pole / to maintain / to open or unfurl / to fill to bursting point / brace / stay / support

(23) 甩 shuǎi - to throw / to fling / to swing / to leave behind / to throw off / to dump (sb)

(24) 围 wéi - to encircle / to surround / all around / to wear by wrapping around (scarf, shawl)

(25) 愁 chóu - to worry about

(26) 插 chā - to insert / stick in / pierce / to take part in / to interfere / to interpose

(27) 漏 lòu - to leak / to divulge / to leave out by mistake / waterclock or hourglass (old)

(28) 披 pī - to drape over one's shoulders / to open / to unroll / to split open / to spread out

(29) 歇 xiē - to rest / to take a break / to stop / to halt / (dialect) to sleep / a moment / a short while

(30) 抄 chāo - to make a copy / to plagiarize / to search and seize / to raid / to grab / to go off with / to take a shortcut / to make a turning move / to fold one's arms

(31) 哼 hēng - to groan / to snort / to hum / to croon / humph!

(32) 哄 hǒng - to deceive / to coax / to amuse (a child)

(33) 啃 kěn - to gnaw / to nibble / to bite

(34) 眯 mī - to narrow one's eyes / to squint / (dialect) to take a nap

(35) 趴 pā - to lie on one's stomach / to lean forward, resting one's upper body (on a desktop etc) / (Tw) percent

(36) 揍 zòu - to hit / to beat (sb) / (coll.) to smash (sth)

(37) 蹭 cèng - to rub against / to walk slowly / (coll.) to freeload

(38) 凑 còu - to gather together, pool or collect / to happen by chance / to move close to / to exploit an opportunity

(39) 敲 qiāo - to hit / to strike / to tap / to rap / to knock / to rip sb off / to overcharge

(40) 滑 huá - to slip / to slide / slippery / smooth / sly / slippery / not to be trusted

(41) 碎 suì - to break down / to break into pieces / fragmentary

(42) 盯 dīng - to watch attentively / to fix one's attention on / to stare at / to gaze at

(43) 塌 tā - to collapse / to droop / to settle down

(44) 背 bēi - to be burdened / to carry on the back or shoulder 背 bèi - the back of a body or object / to turn one's back / to hide something from / to learn by heart / to recite from memory / unlucky (slang) / hard of hearing

(45) 数 shǔ - to count / to count as / to regard as / to enumerate (sb's shortcomings)

(46) 按 àn - to press / to push / to leave aside or shelve / to control / to restrain / to keep one's hand on / to check or refer to / according to / in the light of / (of an editor or author) to make a comment

(47) 压 yā - to press / to push down / to keep under (control) / pressure

(48) 亲 qīn - parent / one's own (flesh and blood) / relative / related / marriage / bride / close / intimate / in person / first-hand / in favor of / pro- / to kiss / (Internet slang) dear

(49) 补 bǔ - to repair / to patch / to mend / to make up for / to fill (a vacancy) / to supplement

(50) 舔 tiǎn - to lick / to lap

(51) 拼 pīn - to piece together / to join together / to stake all / adventurous / at the risk of one's life / to spell

(52) 埋 mái - to bury

(53) 抖 dǒu - to tremble / to shake out / to reveal / to make it in the world

(54) 涂 tú - to apply (paint etc) / to smear / to daub / to blot out / to scribble / to scrawl / (literary) mud / street

(55) 抹 mǒ - to smear / to wipe / to erase / classifier for wisps of cloud, light-beams etc

(56) 吞 tūn - to swallow / to take

(57) 拦 lán - to block sb's path / to obstruct / to flag down (a taxi)

(58) 露 lòu - to show / to reveal / to betray / to expose 露 lù - dew / syrup / nectar / outdoors (not under cover) / to show / to reveal / to betray / to expose

(59) 滚 gǔn - to boil / to roll / to take a hike / Get lost!

(60) 扣 kòu - to fasten / to button / button / buckle / knot / to arrest / to confiscate / to deduct (money) / discount / to knock / to smash, spike or dunk (a ball) / to cover (with a bowl etc) / (fig.) to tag a label on sb / (Tw) (loanword) code

(61) 夸 kuā - to boast / to exaggerate / to praise

(62) 挥 huī - to wave / to brandish / to command / to conduct / to scatter / to disperse

(63) 求 qiú - to seek / to look for / to request / to demand / to beseech

(64) 吸 xī - to breathe / to suck in / to absorb / to inhale

(65) 响 xiǎng - echo / sound / noise / to make a sound / to sound / to ring / loud / classifier for noises

(66) 擦 cā - to wipe / to erase / rubbing (brush stroke in painting) / to clean / to polish

(67) 踩 cǎi - to step on / to tread / to stamp / to press a pedal / to pedal (a bike) / (online) to downvote

(68) 撕 sī - to tear

(69) 扫 sǎo - to sweep

(70) 锁 suǒ - to lock / to lock up / a lock (CL:把)

(71) 扎 zhā - to prick / to run or stick (a needle etc) into / mug or jug used for serving beer (loanword from "jar")

(72) 撞 zhuàng - to knock against / to bump into / to run into / to meet by accident

(73) 追 zhuī - to chase / to pursue / to look into / to investigate / to reminisce / to recall / to court (one's beloved) / to binge-watch (a TV drama) / retroactively / posthumously

(74) 抽 chōu - to draw out / to pull out from in between / to remove part of the whole / (of certain plants) to sprout or bud / to whip or thrash

(75) 删 shān - to delete

[betweenlands]

[[Psst! Hey you! If you are here without context, go vote for the Well in the MCYT Prisons Contest!]] (and also for the Ghost's Vault, too)

“You tubed which Lying!?” Avid’s patron sputters.

Avid winces at the loud feedback screech accompanying their outburst, resisting the urge to clap his hands over his ears – instead, he looks directly over towards the most recently occupied tube, giving its new resident a quick once-over for identifying features. Fox ears, kind of runny mascara (the tube isn’t doing it any favors), raven wings, big floppy hat with a wide brim and a pointy tip.

He snaps his fingers. “Witch Lying! Yeah, that’s the one.”

“You,” the Nameless King says, and then mutters something completely unintelligible. “Avid. You have priorities. You are supposed to stop people from falling into the Void. This sort of diversion is–”

“I thought of that, actually!” Avid says brightly, leaning back against the stasis chamber. “Actually, they were like, a pretty high priority target once I realized I had access to other worlds through this whole… prison bracket… thingy.”

“I’m still not sure how that works, to be honest,” the Nameless King sighs.

“It’s really not that complicated! See, the other Avid is busy being possessed by some weird dark entity called the Old One or whatever, who I assume is like a rival of yours so I’m not going to linger on that because I certainly wouldn’t want to be asked about my exes, but anyway – he’s busy, I’m not –”

“–You have a job–”

“– and so I figured, what the heck, might as well just kinda sneak in there and see if there’s anyone that’s being particularly unsafe! And hoo boy, buddy, you are gonna be glad I did that.”

A pause, then more discontented grumbling from the other side of the line. “You had better have a good reason for taking your eyes off our biggest issues. Marmalade’s still at large, and that Fool could be–”

Avid snickers, rapping his knuckles against the tube despite the sign he’d put up next to it clearly reading DO NOT TAP ON GLASS. “Okay, so here’s the deal. It turns out this sucker right here, the Witch, they’re like – immortal immortal.”

“Most people are somewhat immortal. Respawn exists.”

“Yeah, I don’t think they’ve taken a respawn in a couple centuries,” Avid says, stretching and moving over to the readout of the tubed figure’s genetics chart. “From an old modded generation – they’ve got some sort of immortality machine somewhere. Couldn’t figure out how to disable that but I did my research and, oh boy, you are gonna be glad to hear about this one.”

“Again. This had better be good.”

“Man, you are tetchy today.” Avid sighs. “I’ll make it quick. Immortality machine runs on death protection poppets. Death protection poppets block void damage. Void deals void damage. People go into Limbo if the Void can’t kill ‘em. You want people not in Limbo. Ergo, pickled Witch in the Woods.”

A long silence.

“Did I oversimplify?”

“No.” They sigh deeply. “Frankly, I’m stunned that you managed to create and follow a totally logical train of thought to completion. If what you’re saying is true, you actually have saved us both a great deal of hassle.”

“Aw. That’s sweet of you.” Avid leans back against the tube again, grinning.

“Don’t get used to it. But… well done.”

Avid grins widely, almost to the point where he has to cover his own face to hide how much he’s smiling. He’s done a good job! He did it! He’s getting a good grade in tubing people, something both normal to want and possible to achieve!

“I asked you a question, Avid,” the Nameless King says. Oops.

“Yep! Definitely heard you the first time, but, could you maybe just… rephrase that in full for a reason that is totally unrelated to me not hearing you?”

A long-suffering sigh. “I asked how you got them in the first place. Didn’t you lose the last round?”

“Eheh.” Avid’s grin turns almost uncharacteristically nasty. “See, that’s the thing. I did. I’ve been picking off the losers for the most part, so everyone’s been worrying about little ol’ me. I mean, who would even bother going after the immortal that won this round? If anything, they’re a suspect.” He waves one hand. “It’ll take people a little while to realize anything’s up – in fact, I can probably pick off a few more people in the quarterfinals before anyone figures out that the Witch is missing.”

“Make your pitch,” Avid’s patron says. “Quickly.”

“You got it.” Avid rummages in his inventory and pulls out a hand-drawn map of the upcoming tournament and a ballpoint pen that was probably Trog’s before they got tubed. He clicks it a few times, tapping it against his chin. “So, this round the Well looks like it might get bodied. Last round got something like a thousand votes – really close call, this place called the Desert versus these things called ‘where is’ blogs.”

“Please tell me you didn’t take out Ross,” the Nameless King says. “I don’t have the time or resources to deal with the Red Sun, and neither do you.”

“I may be dumb,” Avid says, “but I’m not stupid. I didn’t mess with that round. It was too high-profile, and keeping the Desert guys at large means they’re another prime suspect for the disappearances. Which brings me to the winners of that round.”

“Which was…?”

“The where is blogs. Apparently they put people in situations and it’s very popular. But, if they win, I’m thinking I could call in a little request for their next location.”

“Hm.” Avid gets the distinct sensation that the Nameless King is tapping their fingers against something. “Yes, that could work. If they let their guard down after winning like the Witch did, you could sweep in and get a lot of people at the same time – define where they are, as it were.”

Avid twirls the pen around his fingers a couple times before scribbling something down in the margins of his notes. “See, this is why we make such a good team! That is exactly what I was thinking we could do.”

“Excellent. Then make sure they win the next round – and don’t let me down.”

Avid nods, and then realizes that his patron can’t see him doing that, and then decides that he doesn’t really have anything to add. Awkward silence fills the air for several seconds.

“One more thing,” the Nameless King finally says. “You said you were picking off the losers, didn’t you?” Their voice is dryly annoyed again – so much for being happy with Avid’s job performance. “I would love to hear who else you’ve wasted our time on.”

“Not a waste of time!” Avid says brightly, hopping over the top floor railing and down to a lower floor. “So, there’s this really cute version of Viking that I would, just, love to talk with over drinks sometime, seems like a really fun dude, has this beautiful vault –”

“Avid. Focus.”

“Uh. Right. Probably won’t be able to talk to him face-to-face unless he gets into the finals, so I’m gonna have to work really hard to see if I can–”

“Avid.”

“Sorry, sorry!” Avid waves a hand as he checks over the occupant of the next tube. “Anyway, the guy he beat was really distracted and kind of stormed off muttering about how people should’ve had new perspectives or something? He was alone, so I bopped him over the head and tossed him in a stasis chamber.”

Avid looks over the catboy in the tube appraisingly. He’s wearing all-black with green and yellow highlights – he kind of looks like an emo version of Viking, if Viking actually wore hoodies. And had brown hair. And didn’t really look like Viking other than the heterochromia. “I don’t know his name, but apparently he’s Canadian? Whatever that means, I don’t think Canada canonically exists in–”

“You’re not serious.”

“I am! We cannot confirm Canada to be like, a canonically existing thing, that’ll break suspension of disbelief! Or at least that’s probably what Anathra would say.”

“I don’t care about the relative canonicity of Canada. You’re telling me you captured Kenadian? The person known for breaking into and out of places faster than anyone else? The prison escapist?”

“Ohhh,” Avid says. “He’s not Canadian, his name’s Kenadian. You know what, that makes so much more sense.”

[lavender-romancer]

Fools

Part Five

Tommy Shelby x male reader

CW: internalised homophobia, sexual themes

You always felt that you were hiding or running from deep inside of you, this feeling that you weren't like other men around you. When you met Tommy it made sense but how could you explore these feelings?

AN: Tommy is not married to Lizzie and Ruby does not exist

”*°•.˜”*°•. ˜”*°•. ˜”*°••°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜

previous part

It was raining again, the moon illuminating every droplet on the windows of Tommy's office. It cast a curious blue tinge to the room and only seemed to further represent his melancholic existence. Tommy lay on the floor of his office looking disheveled with huge bags underneath his eyes. He hadn't slept since being with you at that hotel because, it felt like as soon as he woke up he'd be a new person who would reject you and your love. It may have been irrational but it was also based so deeply in a never ending fear that he couldn't bear to face. Waking up and becoming a more heartless bastard than the day before sounded perfectly normal. But whenever he thought about your touch; the way your hair tapered around your ears or the fact that he was more and more convinced that he was in love with you, he couldn't fall asleep. It signified a severing of a cord, a destruction that he couldn't be party to even if it was the correct thing to do. The moment he fell asleep, he woke up a new man who could never allow himself to be in love with you.

When Tommy closed his eyes his mind was full of fantasies that could never be realised. Tommy had always been bold, he met you at a fucking fairie bar for god sake, but taking this any further felt wholly irresponsible. What could you do? Both get married to women and secretly fuck on the side? Was that a relationship? As he lay there in the dark on the cold hardwood floor with a bottle of whiskey next to him, Tommy had to consider what he was waiting for.

All this rage and sadness had been building up in him for a while and all he wanted was to fester in the rot it had created. Tommy wanted to fucking hate you, call you a 'bohemian' and move on with his life without you. But your light brought him out of the rot, it made him feel safe and loved and important beyond where he ever thought it could. As he considered all his options Tommy had to think of losing the strange fucked up connection you had. It made his body feel cold, as if he was on the slab and about to be cut into, what was the point of all of the life he had left to live if he was drowning? His own self doubt was pulling him deeper and deeper under the water, it would snake around his ankle to root him in place. So complacent in his own self sabotage that he allowed himself to think he could love you.

There was a sudden banging at the front door to the offices and Tommy sighed, at this point he would take an armed gunman over this fucking mess. Almost too nonchalantly he picked up his handgun and checked it was loaded before heading towards the door.

“Tommy! I need to talk to you. Your car's still here so I know you're in there!” You yelled as you rapped on the door. The unexpected downpour soaking you and your bag through as you shivered on the doorstep to his office. Silently you cursed yourself for forgetting a hat.

“Why are you here?” Tommy asked through the door and in an annoying sense you had to ask yourself the same question. But no, you needed to talk about this.

“I need to talk to you, I'm private. It's fucking pissing it down please let me in.” Your voice was regrettably pathetic but you did feel like a wet rat and had nowhere to stay.

As the door opened your throat grew dry even as the rain peppered your face with droplets, your hair soaked through and hanging over your forehead haphazardly. He looked beautiful as always but perhaps not at peace. There was a darkness to his eyes as he opened the door and then walked back into the building not seeming to spare you a look. You took a deep breath and pushed your hair back before following him inside.

The click of the lock seemed to bring Tommy out of whatever trance he was in, he turned around and ran a hand down his face before thrusting it into his pocket. The two of you looked at each other for a moment before you placed down your bag and shifted awkwardly between your shoes.

“Why did you come?” His voice was strained and it felt as if he might let out a sob at any moment.

“I was staying at a friend's.” Was all you said because your throat wouldn't let you get out any more words before you coughed.

“Fuck me, came back all this way with that groundbreaking news?” Tommy glanced at you with a sad smile.

“I know, Tommy.” It felt so simple in those three words, you still hadn't decided how you felt about it all but you needed to see that recognition in his eyes. But all he did was slowly walk into his office leaving the door ajar for you.

“What have you magically figured out then?” Tommy asked with his back to you, pouring two whiskey’s as you closed his office door behind you and leant against it.

“Do you know a woman named Mae Carlton?” You anxiously fiddled with your coat buttons.

“She trained my horse.” Tommy replied and you couldn't help but notice how he answered all too quickly as if he had been anticipating the question.

“And that's all, eh?” You picked up one of the whiskeys before sitting in one of the leather armchairs facing Tommy's desk.

“What were you expecting me to say?” He turned towards you but could only hold your gaze for so long before he too turned to sit in the armchair parallel to yours. Your heart sank and your eyes felt somewhat watery but at the very least you got an answer, even with it's vague nature it was easy enough to read Thomas when he wasn't trying to hide his emotions.

“You must have known that we knew one another.” Looking towards him he sighed.

“Not at the start, the way I met you was so uncalculated, same with Mae. But, in time I realised quite quickly.” There seemed to be a thread of shame that ran through Tommy's words as he admitted them.

“And you chose to continue fucking the two of us without any communication? If you realised quite quickly why in God's name didn't you stop?” Taking a long sip of your whiskey you craved the cold rain patterning your face with forgiving droplets. The constant tapping down the window felt like a metronome counting down the moments until this all ended. The silence truly was awful, there was a strange ringing sound in your ears as the silence stretched on and you refused to break it.

“I couldn't stop. Not if I wanted to stay sane anyways. If I stopped seeing you I would lose my mind in despair and, if I stopped seeing Mae I would lose any hope of feeling like a real man.” Tommy held the scotch glass on his leg and looked up at the ceiling again. Your chest ached with the heavy weight of shame placed upon it years ago by your own identity. It had never felt like it could or would ever go away

“Why don't you care?” You paused looking expectantly at Tommy even though you knew there was nothing he could say. “Why am I still here?”

“You know, in the back of my mind I've killed you. I've got to the point where this is all too much and I can't bring myself to look at you without feeling shame.” Tommy turned his head to face you as he gripped his whiskey glass much too tight and his eyes welled up.

“I might be your shame but I know that I'm also the only real joy you've felt. We all know, every man that lives our existence knows there's hardly any chances we get.” You pulled out your cigarette case and lit one before breathing out smoke in his direction.

“You want to talk about fucking joy? What about the neverending shame I feel when we're apart? How, I know we’re on borrowed time at best and that one of these days it's going to have to end? You have no right to bring up the struggle of men like us when we have no right to be this way!” Tommy exclaimed, standing up and walking to the window.

“You're so terrified of what you are that you'll push away any thought of happiness no matter how momentary! You seriously expect me to believe that your own self importance is what stands in the way of you accepting that someone cares for you? Truly cares for you on a level that no woman ever could.” You stayed sitting, concerned that approaching him would be akin to cornering a scared dog who would lash out.

“Self importance? Its self preservation! How am I a man if I'm more concerned with my own fucking feelings than what's right?” He turned around, finished his whisky and returned to the leather armchair to pour another.

“We're past what's right. Maybe I'm a fool for chasing someone, pretending that they love me because it's all that will keep me sane but I know it's not in my head. When you look in the mirror do you ever acknowledge what you are? That you love a man and you'll never love a woman no matter how hard you try, no matter how many you fuck.” Some of what you said felt marginally vindictive but you couldn't cope with the lies. He wanted to act as if nothing had happened, that you were business partners and nothing more. That he hadn't cried in your arms after such a vulnerable moment, that he hadn't bared his soul to you.

“You act like you know me inside and out, that through all this crazy shit we've got to know each other's history or anything of substance. But we've just been fucking, plain and simple.” His eyes were full of tears with none of them falling, he sniffed and lit up a cigarette. Leaving you sitting there with a sinking feeling, you knew he was lying that was obvious enough but did he really want to push you away so badly?

“I can't fix your hurt, I can't sort everything out but Jesus, I can't get you out of my mind. I tried, Tommy. I've been trying this whole time to understand why you push me away so viciously. But I don't understand the point? You fuck Mae to feel like a man, say that you'll go insane if you're not with me but call it all just a fuck? No matter how much you mince your words and try to hurt me I know it's all a facade. In reality you're a person who's terrified of being too much for me, or for any man.” You sat up on your chair, blowing smoke in his direction. Your eyes steeled in his direction as you prepared for the onslaught of insults.

“I beg you to tell me the fucking point. If I hate you, if I love you. It's all the same outcome because this can't go on forever. No matter how deluded you are, we cannot be with each other.” Tommy looked as if he would stare right into your soul and through you. You took a deep breath and braced yourself to leave

“I wish I could be yours but fuck, you're not even comfortable enough in yourself to accept that living a lie will make you happier than fucking a woman in a loveless marriage. Men like us are used to shame, our existence is shameful but I know you won't be able to leave it behind. Maybe it won't be me,” standing up you walked over to Tommy and took his jaw in your hand. “But I know that the rays of divinity you feel when another man holds your cock is too much to resist.” Dropping his jaw, you picked up your suitcase. Turning to walk out of that room and away from Tommy forever but, he caught your hand.

“Take it off,” he whispered as he started hurriedly pulling at your blazer. You looked at him for a second as he began undressing you, considering your options.

“What do you want, Tommy?” You took hold of his jaw again and slid your hand down to his neck before placing your suitcase down on the floor.

“You, please.” He closed his eyes and you let go of his neck as he sank to his knees.

Tommy scrabbled at your trousers buttons, suddenly clumsy and anxious with a level of submission you didn't expect. As he looked up at you, you were convinced you could die right there with this man below you. The pseudo control you had over this situation was tempting, Tommy stopped you from leaving, he initiated this interaction. But he let you believe you were in control, Thomas Shelby was many things but giving up control was not in his repertoire.

“You're so beautiful.” He whispered as he came up for air, panting slightly. But all you did was smirk before pushing him back onto you, holding his head there for a moment before letting go. The string of spit that started at his mouth and ended at your cock made the image all the more enticing.

It wasn't long before you came, Tommy swallowed and wiped his mouth much like you had not too long ago. The two of you stared at one another for a moment, hands slowly linking down at your sides as you considered leaving one another. It didn't feel possible in your mind, he was a fucking mess, you were a liability, but what was this if not love? The pain of considering leaving Tommy was enough to bring tears to your eyes, even after being so ridiculously vulnerable with one another.

“I can wait for you.” You said quietly as your foreheads pressed together.

“You shouldn't have too.” Tommy whispered as he gripped your hands tighter, his body beginning to shake.

“But I will. Thomas, I- there is no point in my life where I will not want you. You would haunt me, the love I could never have but I wanted with every fiber of my being. I can't say goodbye. I won't say goodbye I can't…” a stray tear blurred your vision and Tommy kissed your hand still clasped in his.

“I don't know what to do with any of this, with the shame or the worry or any of this shit.” His usual precise thought process wasn't reflected in the jumbled mess of that sentence but his stress certainly was. Could he love you as you love him?

“We can be with one another at this moment for a while. Just tell me you love me and that everything will be okay.” Your voice was so small you were scared he wouldn't hear the emotion in your voice. But Tommy lifted up your jaw so incredibly softly, staring at you with equally teary eyes.

“I love you.” He breathed and you pulled him so close and tight to you that you feared you might fuse together. Turn into one soul and never have to worry about being separated from one another again.

“I love you.” You whispered close to his ear before closing your eyes and praying for a better tommorow.

Peaky blinders taglist:

@queenofkings1212 @severewobblerlightdragon @fairypitou @stressedandbandobessed7771 @shadow-of-wonder @hipsternoionlylikeunicorns @curled-hair-red-lips @lucystivinsky1315

Series taglist:

@denzellovehazelnuts @edgyboi10000 @strnqer @flynnr2d2 @zablife

[butternutsquashthesenutz]

RWRB hcs probably pt. 1-

•After they get married everyone (mostly June and Nora) started calling Alex princess. Like, "shut up, princess"

•Henry has read MANY fanfics and written several of his own. This includes a secret five chapter story about him and Alex that stays hidden in the depths of his computer

•I know Taylor Swift is a controversial topic in this fandom, but you cannot tell me Henry "queer historian, writer, and dramatic gay boy" would not jam out to and cry over ts songs alone in his room

•David loves cuddling with Alex, and Henry calls him a traitor, but really he finds it adorable

•Alex has definitely brought some feral animal home that he found on the street hoping to save it and raise it as a pet, and then Henry made him give it to the shelter and he cried all night

•June and Nora get a cat. That's it. They're just cat moms

•When Pez, June, and Nora are all in the same place, they are most likely gonna sleep together

•Phillip gets better and he and Henry are able to work on mending their relationship after Mary dies and neither of them have to deal with her manipulation and abuse

•Alex posts lots of thirst traps, and Henry dies every time

•Alex calls Henry lots of pet names I'm Spanish, and also just in general talks to him a lot in Spanish. Henry has very low understanding of what Alex is saying for the first couple years, but he still melts

•Henry eventually tries to learn Spanish and after a while he can carry a conversation. Oscar often makes fun of his pronunciation though

•Alex is an apple user Henry is an android user. They argue about it often

•Alex's shit got rocked when Hamilton came out. He saw it 10 times

•They continue to have a New Year's party for several years after Ellen leaves office.

•They have a daughter and a son, the son is Henry and June's biologically, and the daughter's Alex and Bea's biologically. Both are referred to as aunt though. Also they used IVF not sex, just to be clear.

•When Alex turns 35, a petition is spread around social media trying to get him to run for president. It gets double the needed signatures, but he doesn't end up running.

•Alex usually tops, but not always. Henry is usually more dominant though.

•I know in cannon Bea gets married to someone (presumably a man) but I hc that she's also gay and meets a girl whose picking her friend up from and na meeting. (Idk, I have a whole story set out for Bea's love life)

•Not really a hc, but Henry has def ridden Alex while wearing a cowboy hat

•Pez always buys the children of the super six super lavish and expensive gifts when ever he visits, and becomes the favorite of the aunts and uncles

•After their first fight once married, Alex has a huge panic attack thinking they won't make it together, but Henry calms him down and it doesn't happen again

•Zhara and Shaan have a daughter who is the scariest little girl in the world. Alex is legitimately scared to get on her bad side.

•David has his own insta account and he has many photos in little outfits

•Henry and Alex write letters to each other every time one of them has to go somewhere for work, just for old times sake

•Henry's first novel absolutely kills all the queer teens, and is basically that universe's RWRB

•Alex often steals Henry's Jaffa cakes and won't ever admit it. Henry knows, and he finds it adorable

•Ever so often Alex will get super into some new topic and do loads of research, and write essays or make presentations on it and then share it with Henry so he can teach him everything he now knows.

•Lowkey canon, but Henry's a Maurauders era fan

•He's also a Tumblr girly and has had a secret blog for years

•The super six do slideshow nights, here's an example of one of those nights: Henry: People from History You Didn't Know Where Queer, Nora: The Statistical Likelihood of Each of Us Releasing a Rap Album, Pez: Rating Everyone's Exes, Bea: The Most Embarrassing Stories About Henry I Can Think of, Alex: Hottest Politicians Around the World, June: The Most Embarrassing Stories About Alex I Can Think of (Her and Bea worked together)

•Occasionally Henry will use an American term (like saying chips when he meant crisps) and Alex will use a British term (like jumper instead of sweater), and both get very upset when it happens (whoever didn't slip up finds it hilarious)

•They joke around whenever a gossip site releases an article about their relationship, like, "oh look, I've apparently left you and headed back to England after you cheated on me" "oh, good for you, that was a rude thing for me to do"

[idontknowanametouse]

Straw Hat girlies headcanons! (Sanji included cuz transfem bigender Sanji lives rent free in my head. Also Bonney cuz why not; And Vivi is on the straw hats I don't care)

TW: mention of sexual abuse and other kinds of abuse, and also the trauma that comes with it

Nami

Autistic, but developed the habit of masking. Has been learning to undo it around her crew. Special interest? Maps, maps, maps. Tangerines are comfort food. She also has hypersensitivity to clothes, so she picks them very carefully. Her meltdowns are often, they come when she is emotionally overloaded, and she usually needs to stay alone to calm down.

After her meltdown in Arlong Park, her arm got paralyzed due to nerve damage. Now, she uses a sling to keep it always in place and not get hurt. Her tatoo covers a little, but not all her stabbing scars.

She has PTSD due to Bellemere's death, her enslavery and also due to being a survivor of SA. Has been doing therapy sessions with Chopper (he is learning about human psychology in order to help the crew) to help cope with it and receives help and support from the rest of the crew.

VERY pale, but due to spending so much time in the sea and under the sun, she ends up having many, many freckles through all of her body. Usually keeps wavy hair in ponytail due to it being really long.

Lesbian, loves girlies. Dating Vivi ever since they set foot in Alabasta. Clings to her so much it looks like they can't be separated. Also, Vivi was her lesbian awakening in the way of "wait, I think I like girls romantically???? And they are also hot????"

When she first entered the crew, she was underweight, almost malnourished, due to never having enough food and saving almost all money to save her village. However, after Arlong Park, she started gaining weight with the help of Sanji and Chopper. Now, she is fat, healthy and happy.

Loves orange, but also blue (no, it's not to match Vivi, shut the fuck up Usopp)

Swears and yells a lot. Has low voice tone control, actually.

Sometimes, when she is sad, she speaks to her tangerines as if Bellemere was there, as it feels comforting.

Ever since she received news that Cocoyashi Village got a Den Den Mushi, she calls them everyweek to tell Nojiko and Genzo about hers and the strawhat's adventures.

Besties with Usopp and Zoro, they talk shit about everyone. Gossip friends with Robin. Is one of the few people that can make Luffy not destroy an entire fucking island. Jinbei's second daughter (first is Koala).

Loves Beyoncé, rap and brazillian funk (Luffy introduced her to it) (yeah, I know this is a more modern-au like one, but let me have my headcanons ok).

Due to high sensitivity to clothes, she usually wears beach-like clothing cause they are light and let most of her skin exposed, so she can feel better the weather.

Terrified of bugs AND bats. Almost fainted when she first heard about vampires and now is fucking terrified of the possibility.

Likes drawing, not only maps, but her crewmates too. She is really good at it, however, she won't show it to anyone, just Nojiko (she's embarassed).

Only wears makeup and/or does different hairtyles in special occasions, as she finds it to be very inconvenient when they are on the sea.

Watching and hearing the sea is a nice visual stim. It helps her to calm down from the crazy thing that is day-to-day life with the straw hats.

She may say shit about her friends sometimes, but will absolutely kill you if you say anything bad about them.

Sanji

Autistic, special interest is fishes and the All Blue. Cooking is so stimmy hmmmm. Does not realize when she is being way too much on others. Even though he doesn't seem like, is very picking about food, can't handle anything made in a shit way. Has shutdowns instead of meltdowns as trauma response, and needs to stay around the crew these times.

Has PTSD due to constant abuse in childhood and from being stuck on the rock-island with Zeff (and also due to Zeff eating his leg). Due to never telling about it to anyone, he tried to hide it from the crew because of self-loathing, but after Whole Cake Island, the moments of crisis and panic attacks were so frequent it turned impossible. He is now working on it with Chopper, just like the rest of the crew.

Tall, with very strong legs with many scars on them. Has leg and facial hair, but, after Momoiro Island, she let her wavy hair grow and now keeps it in a bun, still with the part in front of the eye, of course.

Egg cracked with Ivankov, about both gender AND sexuality. Bi queen. Even though he didn't want to pass through surgeon (aka Ivankov's fruit) he still got a lot of help from the newkama. Also learned he loves drag and will do it sometimes for the crew.

Learned ballet as a kid from Reiju and his mom. Even though he always practiced it in secret, it came out once she started to do drag (on her shows, she uses ballet steps a lot).

Fave colors are yellow and blue, it feels soft.

Swears a lot. Zeff did swear a lot back on Baratie, after all.

Calls Zeff monthly to tell how things are going. Sometimes, after this, she cries a little.

Started dating Zoro shortly before timeskip and was afraid of how he'd react to the whole trans thing, but he couldn't care less. She cried over a week because of this.

Loves woman with all of her heart, specially her crew's ones. Not in a more sexual like way, but in a whole-heartdly way. Besties with Usopp, surprisingly VERY friends with Brook.

Listens to classical and french music, but sometimes likes some rock and roll.

Has three types of clothes: suits, dresses and a suit with a short and skirt. No matter the look, is always with ballet shoes.

Fucking scared of bugs. And pigeons. Don't ask, ok?

Sings very well, but doesn't like to show it. Only does it on the bathroom, but everybody ends up listening. They don't comment cause the single time they did they thought Sanji was having a heart attack.

Adores make-up and diverse hairtyling, finds it to be really cute.

Usually rocking back and forth on her feet, it feels nice.

Once kicked a guy to uncosciousness when he touched her butt.

Vivi

Autistic, has those big bug autism eyes, even though she masks well she cannot function daily without help, Karoo is her therapy animal, special interest in bugs (shares it with Luffy), has meltdowns whenever she knows she is completely alone and helpless.

Developed some level of paranoia after being infiltrated in Baroque Works, and sometimes has frenzys in which she thinks she is back there and that Alabasta is still in danger. It diminuted drastically after Chopper developed a medicine for her, but it still happens sometimes. Those moments, she can turn aggressive and needs to stay only with Karoo so she can calm down.

Has brown skin and some tatoos typical from the Nefertari family. She is short and skinny, and the secret nobody can absolutely know is that she dyes her (curly) hair blue (it's her favorite color and her mom used to do the same, so, she dyes it. Nobody other than Nami can know though).

Lesbian, her first crush was Miss All Sunday (it didn't last much, but o boi, how many nights she spent thinking about how ABSOLUTELY WRONG having a crush on your enemy is). Had an immediate crush in Nami, but couldn't say it cuz of the whole Miss Wednesday thing. They kissed after they left Drum Island and started dating at Alabasta.

Deals with the guilt of being with the strawhats instead of Alabasta very often, and likes having hugs so it can go away.

Favourite color is blue, but not all blue, just sky-blue.

Never swears, feels a little embarassed whenever someone does.

Resolves troubles from Alabasta through Den Den Mushi, that way she doesn't get that much worried. Also keeps in contact with her dad, Pell and Igaram.

Even though they had a complicated relationship at the start, Robin and her ended up being very friends, they love parallel playing (honestly, who doesn't?). Also very close to Luffy and Yamato, the one that keeps a leash on the two of them, relates a lot to Zoro in that aspect.

Loves bubblegum pop, an absolute Swiftie. Sometimes also compelled to Aurora and Halsey.

Whenever they go to an island, she likes keeping her formal clothes (after all, she is the crew's diplomat!). In fights, she uses more simple clothes and a mask to keep her identity hidden. In the ship, however, you'll always find her in pajamas (no, she is not always sleeping, Zoro does that very well for the whole crew).

Is scared of the sea, even though she can swim, nobody knows why.

Likes dancing and presenting to the crew, but the crew only. If some outsider is there, she won't dance at all. Likes helping Sanji with the choreography of her drag shows.

Likes makeup, but hates stylizing her hair. She is absolutely terrible at it, so she just keeps it in a ponytail during fights and that's it, that's the best you can get from her.

Likes playing and fidgeting with small things like coins, buttons, rubik cubes, pebbles and stuff like that. Usually has something in her hand.

Feels bad for being one the weakest crew members, but is always cheered up by the rest. After all, she doesn't need to fight to be nakama, even though she can kick some asses.

Robin

Autistic. Weirdgirl, big autistic stare, says every single creepy fact she knows in not very good situations, no social cues get to her head, never masks, almost always same expression and tone, special interest in history, does not know how to function normally, has auditory and light hypersensitivity, meltdowns caused by way too much light, sound and visual information.

Has PTSD due to the destruction of Ohara, living her childhood, teenagehood and adult years as a runaway and being constantly betrayed and abandoned. She sometimes has moments of profound anxiety in which she asks herself if she is gonna lose her family. Chopper helps her a lot with it, and, when she has those crisis, she gets a hug from everyone anytime she asks for it.

Very tall, with a few specific parts of her body being thicker than the rest. Her skin is dark, with many scars through all of it, and she has blue eyes and long (but not as long as Nami's or Yamato's), straight black hair.

Trans woman, found out during early childhood, and bisexual queen. Even though she was never in a relationship before entering the crew, she was with a few people before. Franky is the first guy she is with, and also the first person she dates. It's a bit scary for both, but feels also really, really good.

She was underweight most of her life due to the inconstancy of her nutrition and life situation, but in Baroque Works she had lots of food. She thought a pirate crew wouldn't care about their nutrition or food, but it was opposite. Even though she does not gain weight easily, her sillouette, that was VERY slim before, became thicker in a few points. Not much, she still is thin, but it's less ill-looking.

Favorite color is purple, black and dark blue. Goth girl Robin is real.

Does not swear, but says such weird, creepy and worrying stuff it makes everyone wish she did. It would be less scary.

Loves organizing stuff, for some reason. If you leave her alone in a messy room, in a short time it will be very nice-looking and clean. She has fun with it!

After some initial tension, she started taking care of Vivi like a big sister. Was called "mom" by Chopper once and almost had a heart attack. Enjoys parallel playing with Zoro and Law, scaring Usopp and playfully flirting with Jinbei (Franky loves this, it makes them laugh how embarassed it makes Jinbei look).

Likes goth and punk music, it feels very nice to her. Also loves horror-like classical music, it helps her to sleep (weirgirl Robin weirdgirl Robin weirdgirl Robin-).

Even though she appreciates goth fashion, it's not really for her. She prefers long, purple jackets to her elbow over dark flower-pattern dresses, dark boots and her cowboy hat with sunglasses (they help her with light sensitivity and it also looks really cool).

Absolutely HATES to be around statues. They just get a nerve on her. It feels awful, she wants to break them in half so they stop looking at her.

Likes sending messages to the crew in the vitorian flower language. Nobody gets it, but they try. She keeps infodumping about it, so they can get at least a few things.

Doesn't like makeup very much, but simple hairtyling is nice. She will experiment on it, but only in particular.

Makes many vocal stims. They variate from humming to speaking random syllabes to screaming out loud. The crew has gotten used to it. Stimming with her akuma no mi also feels very nice.

Has broken more necks than you would think. Is also nicer than you would think.

Bonney

Autistic. Very loud, has no control over her tone, emotionally extreme, no social abilities, pizza is her comfort food, has hyposensitivity to sounds and lights, sarcasm queen but doesn't get other's sarcasm or lies, has meltdowns because of people fighting that involve a lot of self harm.

Has night terror with her dad being chained and his death. She needs to go to Luffy so she can hug him and feel better. Also has hyperactivity and needs medicines from Chopper so she can sleep and focus on stuff.

Small for her age, has white skin that is also tan due to the sun, likes putting piercings through her body (Chopper is scandalized), has brown eyes and hair, which she dyes pink cuz she knows her mom did as well.

Transfem demigirl, came out when she was 7 and told her dad "I wanna be a girl" "alright" and that was it. Didn't know what was a period until Chopper explained, and then got reliefed she didn't get that shit.

Eats A LOT, but runs so much throughout all of the ship all the day through it basically doesn't affect her body in a noticeable way. Shares this fact with Luffy.

Favorite color is pink, all of them. Does not matter the tones, if it's pink, she loves it.

Learned to swear on her time as a pirate. Does it on a daily basis.

Always speaks to her dad when she feels alone. It makes her feel better, to think he is accompanying her journey with the straw hats.

Likes smelling stuff. Sometimes looks like a dog while doing it. She just can feel the vibes of the person through their smell. She warns the crew whenever she smells evil. She is never wrong.

Calls everyone her big siblings. Luffy's apprentice, spends much time with him, specially when they are eating. Is spoiled rotten by Sanji, he loves when she asks for food. Loves being carried by Zoro, Yamato, Brook, Franky and Jinbei. Never gets tired of hearing Usopp's stories. Besties with Chopper.

Loves pop and rock, always sings along while screaming.

Always wearing clothes way too big for her size cuz of her akuma no mi, likes wearing bubblegum-pop and tiktok like clothes.

Scared of labs and doctors. Had to be convinced throughout an entire week to do her first check-up on Chopper. She is now ok around him, but other doctors are terrifying (she keeps trying to find out where Law hides the bodies he obviously kills. He is called death surgeon, come on).

Likes hearing Robin read books for her and Chopper. It's nice and recalls her home, plus Robin's voice is really sweet.

Loves experimenting on makeup, specially with help of the girls, but hair is too complicated. When she is not with her hat, she keeps the hair in a bandana and that's it. Plus it's always messy and she has a hard time combing it.

Stims by running. A LOT. And jumping. Whenever she thinks something interesting, she goes through the entire ship, down and up, until she falls on the sea and someone has to get her.

Can kick ass, but is still a child, so the crew kind of... overprotects her a little. Basically, if she gets hurt in battle, prepare to die. Very painfully.

[luffyvace]

Perona x male reader

This might be more accurate to pre time skip perona bc I’m watching impel down arc, hope you all don’t mind 💗

I just really like her and wanted to write for her since she’s underrated <3 (plus from the poll)

Idk how you and perona met or when but y’all together soo !! 🤷‍♀️

if your dumb/dense- (lol) like zoro or luffy she’s gonna go insane

she loves you..! but your just…..a bit slow..

no matter how through her instructions are you always somehow end up doing the opposite

she has to do a lot of things herself which triggers her because she considers herself a princess

she gets mad at you, but not mad like how should would to bearsy, more so a ‘you can’t do anything with out me 🤦‍♀️‘ typa mad

in fact she usually ends up helping YOU out

”I’m only doing this because I love you, you know??”

she says that while pouting all the time

but if you return the favor by helping her carry something heavy, giving her a kiss on the cheek, or just sincerely thanking her?

shes a blushing mess in denial 💝

if your smart !!

She finally has someone that gets her and is on her side!!

she makes you spend lots of time with her

picking out what outfit she should wear

watching the sunset

she does all sorts of romantic stuff with you <3

(zoro gets lost and crashes your dates 🙂)

if your on the slow side you, zoro and mihawk drive perona up a wall fr

shes the only female and her boyfriend isn’t even on her side?!🧍‍♀️

I mean you are, but it’s just not the same if you don’t get her

and if your intelligent you help her keep zoro under raps

and she makes you help defend her in arguments

LOL

perona likes to pick your outfits

dw she has a great taste in fashion, she’s very stylish

she puts you in black and your favorite color

so that you two are kinda matching

ngl she’s pretty sentimental

one moment she loves the crap out of you and the next she’s attacking you with hollows

ok I know that seems more moody or bipolar or smth but it’s just because she’s sensitive!

it’s more so that what you say affects her deeply because she loves you

so if you choose the wrong dress and you say it’s cuter than the one she was hoping you’d choose, she’s gonna think you think she’s ugly

(don’t ask me how that translates she’s overthinking it)

Your less prone to this if your average smarts or above

but again if your on the slow side, your love is gonna seem like push and pull

She makes you help her with everything, whatever she needs

and she’s kinda clingy, she always has to have you around

at least in the same room, if your not she looks for you

its not because she’s insecure or anything she just likes being in your presence

If she wants to reorganize a room? She’s instructing you and your doing the actual work

she wants the dishes done? Why didn’t you wash them??

(you make a point that she’s the one who used a crap ton trying to cook and she ends up helping you)

she’s fair for the most part though she may be a bit bossy..

perona’s love languages are quality time and physical touch

(lol physical touch is irony but anyway)

yeah I’ve pretty much been mentioning quality time throughout this whole thing

she basically just loves to be around you, doing anything with you whatever!

she doesn’t like to be bored though so you guys are gonna have to figure out fun things to do

playing hide and seek is always fun with her!

she’s really good at it but sometimes you feel like her devil fruit is cheating 😒

you’ve found her a couple times though!

she was proud of you but also kinda upset at the same time 😂

If she hears you getting close to her hiding spot she immediately moves

So it’s very rare you do win

and as a seeker she uses her hollows (sometimes zoro too, he does it begrudgingly though) to find you

she also goes through walls so yeah that helps, when she hears you she can get to you faster

If your a straw hat Kuma mighta sent you there for stealth training 😂😂

I feel if your highly intelligent you could outsmart her though, especially if you learn her way of thinking

with physical affection perona loves to cuddle, hug and give cheek kisses

NOT around zoro and mihawk though

she gets so embarrassed about it

pda does not amuse her so don’t try it

she doesn’t really like using her hollows on you but she just might

she loves to show you off despite that!

oddly enough

she constantly brags about your feats and accomplishments

she may as well be more proud than you!

Even if you haven’t done much she still prasies you

The ghost princess absolutely cherishes you!

anyway yeah she gives you a forehead kiss before you go to sleep

and she expects one back!

but wait til right before she falls asleep!

it’s more romantic that way 😍

(yes she wants it that specific way or she’s going to be pouty with you the next day)

if you don’t do it right she will ignore you

But she gives in first bc 1) she loves you too much 2) she gets bored 3) she likes your attention

she also does this thing where she holds onto your arm and floats

She secretly wants you to kabedon her

shell never tell you that..

(look it up if you don’t know what it is :P)

She reminds you of a cat when cuddling

she practically curls up into a ball on your lap

she gives you cheek kisses whenever you do her a favor or if she’s just feeling particularly happy

(for more dense m/n that’ll be if you did something smart or didn’t tick her off on accident today)

perona will also simp if you have abs/muscles

will avoid you for a bit if you catch her though

I mean she can go through walls so if your changing and she’s comes in..

OF COURSE SHE DOESN’T STAY FOR THE FULL THING SHE’S NOT A PERVERT IT’S JUST-

even if you don’t mind she doesn’t want you to catch her admiring you

she spies on you working out still, since that’s less suspicious

if you don’t have abs that’s all right

she romanticizes you anyways so no matter what you look like or what you do she absolutely adores you!

Your love life with perona is never dull!

she genuinely loves you ♡

These were a really good length! 💪 I’m getting back in my groove! 😼

I was originally not gonna do these but I’m glad I did they didn’t take very long and were fun to write! :) hope you enjoyed lovelies 💖

[sessakag]

Hi! I'm really curious about your writing process because you're writing so many stories simultaneously which i think is really impressive. 💖 Do you already know what's gonna happen in the story such as the ending? Do you outline the plot before starting a story or is the plot decided as the story goes? Do you also forget what happened in the previous chapters so as that you have to reread them before writing the next chapter?

My writing process can be summed up in one word: chaos.

Absolute chaos, no joke. I am always all over the place, bouncing from one fic to another, files everywhere, folders everywhere, docs everywhere, like omg, its so disorganized on my side of the fic but its like a disorganization I can navigate quite easily most of the time😅and yes, I write a lot of stories simultaneously, but its on a bigger scale than folks see, lol. I've been working on 8 unpublished stories at once alongside Prey and Butterfly for the last month or so🤔my brain is just always going, and it switches from one thing to other, sometimes within minutes, sometimes days, sometimes hours, and then I get super fixated on whatever has my attention at the moment and the words just come pouring out of my brain😅I do take breaks when my hands and wrist start to ache, though that only makes me think of more stuff to write about.

I usually have a very clear vision for my fics, they're like movies or tv shows that I live through and experience inside my head, but the majority of the decisions on how to get to point A to B are made on the fly and I do not constrain myself if the story takes me somewhere other than the "clear vision" lol. I'm allergic to following guidelines. I just can't write like that, I have to like, feel the story as I write and if I can't experience the feeling of it then I go a different route, planned or not. it's hard to explain it without sounding like a crazy lady😅but yeah, I'm all feels and instinct with my stories, not much deliberate structure, though I have tried that before, and I was bored to tears and started dreading writing. Prey is a prime example of this. I planned on writing it one way, Prey!Naruto told me no🤭

I know how just about every single one of my fics are going to end already. I may not know how I'll get there, or what will happen in between, but I do know for a fact how they will conclude(unless the story demands a different end, but it's not likely to happen I don't think). I've already written the end for Butterfly, Monster, A Cure For Love, Prey, Dirty Little Secret, most of my unpublished fics and partially finished Secrets but I'm iffy on that one since I'm torn in two directions on how to conclude it. Once I get to the sequel I should have a better feel for it. But yeah, the end of these stories are already ready, they're just waiting for me to get there😂probably one of the reasons why I linger so much on fics so much🤔I already know they end and wanna have fun until the party's over🤭

I do forget things sometimes and need to re-read my stories, though for the most part, my fics are like movies I've seen a million times and I remember them just fine. I mostly re-read to pick up the momentum I had before I left, or to "get back in character" with the characters in the fic. Like if I've been writing Prey for an extended period of time, and then want to go to a fic where Naruto is more in line with his canon self, I'll have to re-read the story to put that hat back on, or listen to music that's less idgaf trap rap and more Naruto OST🤭but forgetting what happened in the previous chapters nah, not really. Not unless I'm having an episode or something, lol. Then Idk wtf is going on🤭

Anywho, hope this answered all your questions, but feel free to ask more!

[newtonsheffield]

Could we? Perhaps? See Anthony gift Kate her very own secret garden?

Oh Lieutenant Bridgerton raises many an eyebrow when he buys the cottage at the far end of the lane at the end of the high street. He’s newly discharged, newly engaged to Kate Sharma which has caused a bit of a stir because several of the local boys are harbouring a little crush on the Sharma girls but Kate’s never given them the time of day. And Anthony’s also purchased a shop that’s sat empty since it closed near the beginning of the war. When the man went away and never came back.

They see Anthony, trundling back down the high street the the strangest assortment of things at least twice a day. He’s got some of the local boys setting up his shop for him and books are arriving from god knows where though most of them are secondhand at the moment. What they’re curious about are the renovations he’s making to the cottage. He’s been making enquires about where he can get stone, of all things. The paint he trundles back with in his little cart leaning heavily on his cane while Miss Edwina Sharma calls out to him.

“If Kate finds out you’re doing that you’re going to be in rather a lot of trouble.”

Anthony waved her off, adjusting his hat, “Are you going to tell her?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“Then I suppose I needn’t worry!” And he trundled off with his wagon full of supplies.

He paints the entire house, inside and out. Sometimes Simon is on the ladder with him, looking very irritated as Anthony gives directions, Sometimes it’s Kate with her hair neatly tied back from her face in her father’s old trousers and shirts as they build their home together. But one day, Lieutenant Bridgerton is seen, before dawn with a whole squadron of the young lads from the village, each of them promised an entire pound for their troubles. Cart after cart pulls up and at first, everyone assumes he’s building a reinforced air raid shelter. Everyone has one of those, these days. But he’s not. It’s curious. He’s building the stone wall higher in one corner of their garden, then squaring it off. By the end of the day a quarter of their large garden’s been walled off completed and a door placed in one wall. And no one, for the life of them can figure out why.

Anthony feels guilty, more than a little, that he told Kate she can’t visit him for a few days. But he just needs to get the walls built and the plants put in and then he should be right. And she’ll love it. He knows she will. And finally, with his back aching and sweat soaking his shirt, he’s done. And he can’t wait to show her.

His heart feels like it’s going to explode as he walks over to Kate’s home, leaning a little more heavily against his cane thinking, not for the first time that he’ll be glad when his car’s ready to be picked up and he doesn’t have to walk absolutely everywhere. His chest’s heaving when he raps on the front door and smiles at Mrs Sharma when she opens it, smiling at him.

“Anthony, are you staying for dinner?”

“Ah… no, Mrs Sharma not… tonight I only… wondered if I might take Kate to the cottage. I’ll have her back straight away.”

“Will you?” He heard Kate’s voice before her head appeared around the corner, “Are you finally ready to show me the mystery project that’s got everyone talking?”

“I am indeed.”

Kate grabbed her coat, tucking it around herself as she made her way out, kissing her mother’s cheek. “He will be back for dinner, Mama.”

She watched him as they took off back down the lane and he could tell she was assessing the way he was walking, eying him. “What have you done to your back?”

“Nothing.” Anthony huffed, “I slept oddly.”

“No you didn’t.”

Anthony sighed, leaning over to kiss her. “Kate, Darling, it’s part of the surprise. Can you not be cross with me, please?”

She eyed him, “I need to see what the surprise is before I know whether or not to be cross.”

“Must you always spoil my romantic gestures?” Anthony sighed as they approached the house and he spun towards her in the fading light. “I’m going to have to ask you to close your eyes.”

“Why?”

“Kate,” Anthony sighed, leaning forward to kiss her again, “Please.”

She sighed and covered her eyes dramatically letting herself be lead into the garden. Anthony could hear his heart pounding in his chest as he lead her through the garden, the key weighing heavily in his pocket and he took a deep breath as he stopped. “Hold out your hand.”

He pressed the key into her palm “open your eyes.”

She stared down at the key, and her brow furrowed as she looked up at him and then her lips parted in surprise and her eyes widened. “Anthony, is this… what I think it is?”

“Open it and see.”

Her hand shook as she stepped forward, her fingers running over the rough wood of the door as she slid the key in and the door swung open.

“Anthony.”

He’d built around the old oak tree and planted several other trees, and rows and rows of freshly tilled earth stood around them where flowers would spring to life eventually.

“I um… I planted vines around the walls and eventually they’ll be covered and I’ve put flowers in here and here so the whole ground will be covered with them eventually. And I’m getting Simon to help me with a swing on the oak tree but I wanted to show you now.”

She didn’t say anything. Only stared around her, her hand stilled pressed against the wall.

“Kate do you…?”

“I love you.”

She darted forward and her arms were tight around his waist as her lips found his.

“I love you too.” He said as he pulled back, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“So this is why all the boys in town have been running around with their pockets full of sweets.”

“I’m… trying to support local shops.”

“You’re such a sweetheart.”

[anistarrose]

okay serious inquiries now, i wanna hear about the adopted ango fic and freak4freak4freak4freak 👀

(WIP meme here, still taking asks!)

thank you once again, fex! I feel like I've mentioned the Lucretia adopts Angus fic to you before, it's the one where she raises him on the Bureau and he even gets to have an ambiguously evil Red Robe uncle (who is allowed to give him piano lessons, because Lucretia is a total softie).

more relevant to the only writing I've completed, though, is the way THB meet Angus on the Bureau, and Angus actually sneaks off to get on the Rockport Limited with them once he hears there's a murder mystery in play. Lucretia obviously panics about this, because she does not want her son getting anywhere near a Relic — and this Angus & Taako scene is dealing with the fallout. the writing's old and there's stuff I'd change but the skeleton of it holds up, IMO. bit of outsider-looking-in on Ango and Lucretia's relationship:

Taako raps on the door to Angus’s room, trying not to sound neither too threatening nor too invested. “Hey, it’s, uh — it’s cha boy. Taako. Can I… come in?” “Whatever,” Angus sniffs, which is…  Well, Taako hasn’t known Angus for long, but that doesn’t sound at all like the polite, oddly mature little pipsqueak Taako’s gotten so used to seeing around the Bureau. He really is upset. Shit.  Taako wishes he could just send in the big armored teddy bear instead, ‘cause Magnus might comfort the kid with some actual success — but of course, Taako had to be the only one loitering to hear two distinct voices being raised in the Director’s office. To see Angus bolting out of a debriefing with his actual mom, covering his face with his hat and making a mad dash for his bedroom across the quad. Angus clearly loves his mom, and the Director clearly loves her kid. Taako never got any bad vibes from either — just vibes of a weird kid, in the care a parent with a weird enough job, that things cancelled out and everyone’s weird, weird needs got met. In a way he’d never admit, it actually made Taako kind of jealous. But Angus is upset, probably shedding tears, over the debriefing-turned-argument that Taako didn’t mean to overhear — So he opens the door, and steps into Angus’s room.

Angus has trauma and it's causing him to catastrophize about the argument, worrying his Mom will send him off the Bureau to keep him safe and he'll lose the only family he has. so Taako kind of clumsily, uncomfortably, tries to reassure Angus — that because "the Director" cared enough to adopt him, she would never throw him out for nothing.

but then... Angus spills the beans. the Director has "a brother" who definitely isn't bio-related to her, but the adopted nature of their family doesn't keep them from having an extremely terse relationship that they only even keep that civil for Angus's sake. so Angus is very scared that if two people he thinks are good people could have chosen to be family once, but then turn out Like That, then who's to say the same won't happen to him?

obviously, Taako isn't even getting the "evil Red Robe" piece of information in the story — but even so, he just has no idea of how to respond to that.

*

also, freaky found family! that was the one I was actually writing most actively before work picked up, but you can expect me to finish it as soon as I'm unemployed again if not sooner lmao. it's BLT Trio plus Kravitz (or Reaper Squad plus Taako, if you prefer) hurt/comfort and cuddling, but it starts out with house hunting fluff:

Kravitz sniffs the air, in the direction of the charred crater in the wall. “Is it just me, or is there, like… a smell coming from the Hole? I mean, we agreed the house is probably on the market because of the Hole —” “Yeah, oh, completely. But the — the Hunger smell? Dav figured out a couple days back that baking soda can handle it.” Barry puts his hand on his hip, shaking his head and smiling. “Never had to figure that one out before, the way things were, but — but good ol’ sodium bicarb, turns out that does the trick —” “Oh, good,” Kravitz says. “I have lots of that on hand to deal with zombies.” “Ah, mix it into your salt circles, right?” “Obviously. I like a three-to-one ratio. Does the job, and cost-effective.” “Man, they should — uh, they should pay you to go on baking soda commercials.” “I’ll keep that in mind, Barry.”

[amethyst-ghoul-backup]

Hello ! How are you ? 🖤 Do you think you could write headcanons for the Ghouls going to karaoke (pleaaaase) ? I just had this thought of them absolutely having a blast while singing Bohemian Rhapsody (don’t ask me why 💀😭)

omg your brain is *chef’s kiss* i love this idea!!

also i got a little carried away so i do apologize for that y’all 😭😭

- The ghouls are allowed one sort of fun outing to town per week

- Copia is required to chaperone but he’ll let them pick what they want to do and where they want to go, he just goes along to supervise

- To keep everything fair, the ghouls get to write down one idea each for what they want to do, they put the ideas in a hat, and draw one each week until they’ve done everyone’s idea

- On Friday night the pack gathers around the hat and Cirrus pulls a slip with the words “Karaoke bar” on it

- So karaoke it is

- On Saturday night all 8 of them and Copia pile into one of the ministry’s van and off they go

- They enter a mostly empty little karaoke bar and get a private room for singing

- They also order a bunch of drinks

- Swiss insists on going first and gives a very unique rendition of No Hands

- Dew and Sunshine cheer him on of course

- Cirrus and Aether absolutely kill their choice of Ain’t No Mountain High Enough

- The others can’t help but give Mountain an amused glance every time his name comes up in the song

- He is very much not amused

- Cumulus goes next and sings Halo by Beyoncé so beautifully that Copia rethinks her being an Air Ghoul because she HAS to be part siren

- “Show off” Dew jokingly mutters when she’s done but Rain slaps him on the arm anyway

- Sunshine decides she wants to sing I Won’t Say I’m In Love from the Hercules soundtrack and gets Swiss and Aether to be the muses

- They do the little dances and everything

- Like i’m talking full on movie accurate choreography

- Rain and Mountain seem sort of reluctant at first but once they realize Disney songs are an option they are all for it

- They do Under The Sea from The Little Mermaid, Hakuna Matata from The Lion King, I’ll Make A Man Outta You from Mulan, and more

- Aether cuts them off after they sing The Bare Necessities for the second time

- After Dew has one too many margaritas (he drank 6) he BODIES Rap God by Eminem and Tap In by Saweetie

- When he starts singing CPR by Cupcakke Copia knows it’s time to go

- “But youuu haven’t sung anything yet Cardi!” Sunshine drunkenly points out from the couch where she’s leaning all of her body weight on a fast asleep Cirrus

- All the ghouls turn to Copia with nods of agreement

- “I— eh, eh-heh. That is true. I suppose one more song wouldn’t hurt.” Copia agrees

- He wanted to do Piano Man by Billy Joel but that wasn’t an option

- So he goes with Bohemian Rhapsody

- And boy was that a choice

- As soon as the ghouls hear the intro they get so hyped up

- Copia sings the intro and verse 1 and 2 by himself

- Dew and Aether vocalize the guitar solo but it’s really off pitch

- The ghouls join in verse 3 and they all do the high pitched voice

- They do the little call and response with Copia

- Sunshine, Rain, and Cumulus song the “Let me go” part and the other five ghouls sing the “We will not let you go” part

- When it’s all over they end up super giggly and in high spirits

- Then they got kicked out because Dew got too excited and lit a couch on fire

- But it was an overall 10/10 experience

If you read all of this to the end, you’re a real one! Also does anyone know of that tiktok with that group of boys wearing like navy blue bedsheets as togas and lip syncing to I Won’t Say I’m In Love cause that’s exactly what I imagine Swiss and Aether doing while Sunshine sings. Someone please know what I’m talking about 😭😭

[shiggyscumrag]

Here, have this little Christmas special because i love you all <3

Walking through the door with a pretty light patrol Bakugou takes off his shoes and leaves his gloves at the door. Sighing he heads towards the kitchen when suddenly a note on the floor gets his attention. Bending down he picks it up, noticing its a folded envelope with a heart taping it together. Opening and unfolding the paper it creates a bigger heart with a letter on it. It reads:

"My Love, Katsuki,

I know work has been extremely stressful to your mind and body these past few weeks with the holidays rolling around, so I wanted to surprise you witha well earned gift. So Merry Christmas my love, how about you go to the kitchen and grab the snack I prepared you.

Your Dearest, Y/n"

Walking down the hall and into the kitchen he sees sugar cookies and a glass of milk waiting for him. As well as another note leaning against the glass. Picking it up and unfolding it he takes a bite out of one of the cookies and begins to read:

"My Dearest, Katsuki,

I'm sure you find this all to be a bit elaborate, maybe even a little ridiculous. However, I think you deserve it. Deserve to be spoiled that is. So, in order for that to happen you'll need to head to the laundry room after you finish your snack to find your next little surprise.

Your Love, Y/n

P.S. the cookies are low carb and the milk is the almond milk you like since you're on your strict work diet."

Letting out a small grunt he finishes the two other cookies and gulps down the milk. You really did know him a little to well. He loved it though. He never really thought he'd have the chance to learn and love everything about him like you've grown to do.

Making his way into the laundry room he finds a box rapped in a beautiful red wrapping paper with big bold letters that read "OPEN ME" in black sharpie. Complying he rips open the wrapping paper and takes of the lid. He finds another note with a heart on top of something wrapped in tissue paper. He opens the note first that read:

"My Beloved, Katsuki,

I see you're actually going along with my little surprise, and I can already tell you that it makes me extremely happy. I've been wanting to do something like this for months and it's been hard cause I wanted everything to be perfect for the most perfect guy. So as a last little happy why don't you wear this and meet me in our bedroom. I'll be waiting ♡

Your Heart, Y/n"

Putting the letter to the side he unwraps the tissue paper to find a new pair of boxers waiting for him. He finds another note on top that reads "P.S. they have already been washed and cleaned ready to be worn!" With little hearts doodled all over the paper. With a chuckle he decides to give into your little game and begins to strip to put on his new gift.

Putting his dirty clothes in the laundry hamper he makes his way across the hall and knocks on your shared bedroom door.

"May I come in?" He asks snarkly.

"Of course, as long as you've been a good boy this year." He hears you speak through the door. He can feel himself begin to get hard at your words, your sultry voice making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Opening the door slowly he sees you sitting on the edge of the bed in a sexy Santa outfit. A red silk dress fitted your body as white fur ran along the edges. Black silk gloves ran up your arms and stopped right above your elbows and a red Santa hat sat a top your head. Walking over to him he noticed you also had dark red lipstick on. He couldn't help the groan that slid past his lips ashe gripped your waist pulling you against his now hard cock. You were the first to speak up, a slight smirk on your face. Looking down and grabbing his cock your smirk deepens.

"It seems to me you've been quite a naughty boy."

Happy holidays everyone!!