#ANON I'M ILLITERATE!!!!

[adhdo5]

ik you posted their normal classpects, but what do you think o5ver's glitch faq classpects would be? im interested

149K WORDS????

[genderstarbucks]

Guys, for the last time @caeliangel is NOT anti-pan/ply/omni

Hy's using the original meaning of what a battle axe bisexual is, meaning bisexuals who fight against biphobia and uplift and support other bisexuals

Hew's not using the stolen definition, of thinking that bi is the only valid mspec label

Plus she's also made tons of pan/ply and omni flags??

Stop hating on my homies you doodooheads

Stop it!!!!!

[klanced]

I see where you're coming from, but also blorbo is different to everyone and we all had different experiences. I was in voltron but pidge was my blorbo, not lance, so I rarely saw him. And then I saw Yuuri everywhere whether I wanted to or not. Also, polls are not about accuracy, as much as we might think they should be. Life is a popularity contest. 🩵💙🩵💙🩵

my blorbo rankings contain multitudes. however, i am cognizant enough to recognize two things:

while lance is not my specific blorboest blorbo, i still rank him to be a more iconic blorbo than yuri. and so my vote for lance is still valid.

this poll is about most iconic blorbo. i like keith and allura more than i like lance, but i firmly believe that lance is voltron's most iconic character. i define "iconic" based on the following criteria: a) canon material; b) fandom experience and reaction; and c) impact on outsiders (the "did i see this character everywhere" standard). i heavily value points in the (b) category over points for (a) and (c).

lance's canon material sucks ass. however, the fandom's ability to 1) go crazy over lance anyway, and then 2) ability to extrapolate so heavily, insist on digging so deeply, and create so genuinely is impressive to me. and also incredibly hilarious. this is why i made the toxic iconity argument: i deeply respect the daily battles lance stans fought, both between themselves/the wider voltron fandom, and the constant enduring sisyphus-level uphill battle against the quality of the canon material. lance stans were able to create everything out of veritable nothingness, and i believe that deserves to be commemorated.

[randomfoggytiger]

https://drive.google.com/file/d/16ONwDWRWzZlUqOPRAFZda0a1fR2y8v-N/view?usp=drivesdk

*Please read now 🙏🏻🙏🏻

Sorry, Anon, but I don't click on mysterious links-- too out of the loop to discern what should and shouldn't be opened. :DDD

But if you want to come back and explain what it is, etc., I'm willing to listen~.

[theangstking]

yo what the fuck is this shit.

does anyone realize how. Not fucking okay this is?

I'm not even triggered rn I'm just mad and confused lmfao

oh yeah btw. what's happening here is, someone dug up our trigger list SOMEHOW. and is just genuinely sending us things from it. like...they literally copy pasted things from it.

does this count as anon hate???? fuckin, baby's first proper anon hate after How Many Years ig??? LMFAO???

this is mostly just confusing and funny more than anything?? I'm pissed off too sure but like. What??? The hell did they think they were going to accomplish???? there is not a name or face to this.

ohhhhh WEH WEH cry whine throw a fit some random fucking person on the internet that we don't even know the name of decided we're worth HARASSING. LMFAO???

[c6jpg]

hello, fellow bad chinese speaker here! i had to ask a fluent friend about the joke CN cyno actually said in place of the ENG collei flower joke.

after cyno asks paimon if she ate valberries (落落莓/luòluò méi) she replies, "wouldn't that mean if i ate zatyun peaches (墩墩桃/dūndūn táo), i'd become chubby?" both terms follow an AAB structure, which is common for CN names in genshin, like the name for hilichurls (丘丘人/qiūqiū rén).

so when cyno notices tighnari say "柯莱来/kē lái lái," which has an ABB structure, cyno replies with another ABB phrase: "pile 'em up" (堆高高/duī gāogāo).

he then proceeds to mention that wolfhook (钩钩果/gōugōu guǒ) is more appropriate for naming conventions in teyvat, as it has an AAB structure.

OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH okay i see, thank you so much!! okay wow yeah it probably really helps to know the chinese names for all these in-game things ajsdflksjdfl i was like how did we get from collei's name to 堆高高 (which i was also like ??? what is this. google is giving me nothing here). but i definitely never would have caught onto the AAB/ABB thing oh my god the more you learn right

[maslows-pyramid-scheme]

I'll write a longer response when I get back, but I think your question touches on a very nuanced issue, anon - I can recommend radical feminists who consider themselves lesbians, and who write 'from a lesbian perspective' (self-described, and as understood by the radfem community generally) but there's no way of actually ensuring that they're actually lesbians.

[patronsaint-ofthedenial]

Have you read / watched American Psycho? Genuine question.

I haven't gotten around to it and I don't plan on doing so in the near future but maybe some day

[silverflqmes]

heey, i really loved your writing!! could you write a fluff where kageyama has a crush on seijouh's manager and doesn't know how to approach because of certain people (oikawa and kindaichi lol) ?

sorry if something is spelled wrong, I'm using the translator 😞❤️

lovee from Brazil!

໒⦂ 𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐁𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄.

notes. first song that came to mind^ by taylor swift ( ofc ) but anyway.. hello anon! much love to you in brazil<3 i hope this drabble is too your liking, not very confident in my take on kageyama but we cope.

genre. fluff ( kinda cliché.. )

tobio kageyama x gn!reader.

tobio wasn’t exactly what many would call, in tune with their feelings. in fact, he sucked at expressing what he felt. so much, that any emotions could easily be compared to crashing waves.

feelings surface and take the skies to great heights, only come crashing down and return to the expanse of water.

though it wasn’t completely his fault. many factors prevented him from expressing himself in a normal and understandable way. this time around, it was two students from his old junior high that stood in the way — yuutaro kindaichi, and no surprise here — tooru oikawa.. whom he didn’t have the best relationship with.

and what exactly were they blocking him from? well, his feelings towards you.

once upon a time ago, you had also attended kitagawa daiichi and have been kageyama’s crush for as long as could remember. no one could compare to you no matter how many times he tried to disregard his feelings.

now that you attended aoba johsai, he feared he might never get to tell you of his sentiments towards you.

the one opportunity he had to speak with you was during the practice match early into the school year, and at the singular opportunity he received to approach you, when he didn’t just feel like a face in a crowd.. kageyama became completely tongue tied.

like a fool he choked on his words before spouting a pathetic excuse of a greeting once kindaichi had arrived with kunimi to pull you away from him.

now, he was met with a new opportunity.. one that featured no aoba johsai, no court and zero volleyball — just the two of you, and the beach.

the raven haired setter had come with his sister for the day, saying to him that he had needed sun and a break from his cherished sport. the odds of you showing up were zero, and yet, here he was.. proven wrong once more.

miwa, upon seeing you playing blissfully in the water with a friend you had brought down to the beach with you, had of course nagged her younger brother, urging that it was fate. how often was it that you showed up to the beach at the same time as your crush without that knowledge, anyway?

still, the first year had refused to approach you. how could he when you were having so much fun? you’d freeze up completely if you had to hear another failed attempt at a confession.

despite being so close to him, you felt so far away for him. out of his league, out of reach.. and it terrified him to take those few steps in approaching you. who was to say you wanted him anyway if he spoke up? for all he knew someone else was in the picture.

there was just too much at risk, and he wasn’t sure if he was ready to hear your rejection.

“tobio.. you’re gonna lose her completely with the rate you’re going at.” his older sister sighed out, draining her bottle of coke. “nobody’s here to stop or make you feel judged in any way. and i can tell you right now,” she paused, pushing her sunglasses up a bit. “you’re not getting a better opportunity than this one.”

his lips pursed together as he stole another glance at you before looking at the emptied glass bottle in his hand. “it’s pointless trying, onee-san. she came here to enjoy herself and relax — not witness an embarrassment of a confession, if i even get one out.” the words would be completely jumbled, so much that it was sure to sound illiterate. like a baby trying to get their first word out.

he wondered if he could just get his feelings across without standing there to tell you. if he could do it that way, surely the confession would get across, and it won’t have cost him his dignity.

the elder eyed the younger for a moment before letting out a hum. “if this was volleyball, surely you’d have found a way around this by now.” she spoke up before laying back in her beach chair. “facing defeat has made you too comfortable, tobio.”

his lips parted to throw back a retort before, wanting to defend what little pride he had left, but his thoughts failed him when they couldn’t form into a sentence. miwa was right, painful as it was to admit. he gave up way too easily, all because of vulnerability.

his gaze lingered on the glass in his hand for a little while longer, the sea beyond twinkling in the distant horizon.

and just like that, an idea struck him. “nee-san, do you have a paper and pen i can borrow?”

“i’m telling you hana-chan, every conversation we’ve had just ends up in word vomit when he addresses me — considering yuutaro-kun and oikawa-senpai always intervene..” you sighed out to your friend from johzenji, pursing your lips together. “i feel bad each time we talk because of it.”

the brunette lowered her sunglasses to her face, letting out a hum. “volleyball boys do tend to hold onto their grudges, otherwise they’d be more like my team.. and they’re certainly a draining bunch.” it was like hosting a kid’s birthday party everyday when it came down to managing. “maybe you should try contacting him outside of volleyball?” she suggested, sipping on her smoothie.

your lips pursed together. “i probably should, he was a really good guy back in junior high.. despite what everyone says about his behavior with volleyball.” an awkward laugh seemed to have left your lips at the memories. “but i miss having him in my life, i just don’t know if he feels the same way..”

“what’s that?” the manager spoke up, sitting upright.

raising a brow, you turned to look at your friend. “i said i don’t know if he feels the same way..”

“no no.” misaki shook her head, pointing to the shore. “that, over there.” she corrected, lifting her shades.

you blinked at her finger, following its direction before narrowing your eyes to see what she had been referring to. the sun wasn’t quite helping your vision, in fact- whatever it was, the sun reflected it in a way that made you get up to go look for yourself.

if someone threw trash into the sea with garbage bins scattered all around the beach to maintain the cleanliness, you were seriously going to throw hands.

as you approached the shallow water, you kneeled to pick up the discarded bottle, wondering who on earth couldn’t just get off their ass and throw away a coke bottle.

but as you got a better look, you found a paper inside. at first glance it might have been a wrapper for a straw, however it wasn’t crumbled up like trash. rather — it was rolled up.

part of you thought you might have found the krabby patty secret formula somehow by its appearance. glass bottle and a note? a child would have surely thought similarly and opened it to see.

and like a kid.. curiosity got the better of you.

twisting off the cap, you flipped the bottle over to shake the letter out, eager to see what you might find. maybe even treasure — although that was farfetched.. even for you.

unraveling the message, however, you found none of the things you anticipated. in fact, you were met with very the last scenario that could have possibly crossed your mind.

dear y/n,

um.. i’m no good with words, but uh, you probably noticed that the last few times we saw each other. and i have no hope that whatever i say will be any better here.. especially with limited space, but i’m hoping that i can put my feelings into words a little easier without my pride getting in the way, awkward meetings, or our old schoolmates.

i like you, a lot.. and i have for a really long time now — since kitagawa daiichi. but i’ve just, had a hard time bringing those feelings across to you, so i never got the chance, especially when we go to different schools.

just feels like the universe doesn’t want me with you every time i try to speak up, so i decided to write them instead, hoping they get to you in this message.

if you don’t feel the same, i understand- i just hope we can remain friends, and that i haven’t made things even more awkward than they already were between us.

yours sincerely,

tobio kageyama.

shock painted your features as you read the name nine more times, scanned the contents of the letter before looking behind you.

tobio was somewhere on the beach and you hadn’t even seen him. he could have made an approach as well, but his fears, you guessed, of rejection.. told him not to.

finally, as your eyes were ready to give up the search, a sliver of blueberry caught your gaze. bingo.

“y/n?? where are you-”

“one minute, i think i saw someone i know!” you quickly intercepted hana, rising from your crouched position to run a few umbrellas down.

there was one with a duo underneath that resembled one another, and if your memory served you correctly — that was tobio and his older sister. miwa, if your memory hadn’t failed you.

the setter seemed to be his own world for a moment, filing his nails as part of his routine. even outside of the court, he still had to maintain his habits.

“tobio, i’m off to get us more drinks.” the female spoke up after looking up, smiling to herself. “be right back~”

kageyama let out a noise of agreement, only lifting his head a smidge to nod before pausing when he noticed a figure across from him — your figure.

either you just noticed him, or you had actually received the haphazard message in the bottle he had sent. and by the looks of it, it had been the latter.

“y/n..” he breathed out, lowering the filer in his hand as he watched you approach him.

the butterflies from every occasion he had encountered you this past year seemed to have returned to his stomach. was this what hinata felt before every match..?

“tobio-kun, it’s been awhile.” you smiled a little, letting out a sheepish laugh. “surprised to find you here, it almost feels like fate.. except no distractions this time for us to finally put everything out on the table.”

his heart seemed to accelerate with pace, the nerves increasing almost tenfold. rejection, he could just sense it coming. “um, well.. i already said how i feel, considering you got the letter.” he spoke up, eyeing the emptied beverage in your hands.

at his reasoning, you lifted the bottle before humming. “true, but i didn’t actually hear it from you. for all i know it could have been something of your sister’s doing.”

tobio, blushing profusely, nearly found himself barking back a response — a frequent habit of his. but as he eyed your expecting gaze, he faltered, lowering his head in defeat.

“how will i know if by saying it, i won’t just end up being made into a fool..?” he mumbled, pursing his lips together.

as you took a step closer, you gave him a knowing stare. “let me do you a better one, how are you so sure i’ll make you into a fool? you’re aware of your feelings.” you paused before pointing to yourself. “but you’re not aware of mine, it seems.”

his lips parted to retort before he froze up. “wait- your feelings? you..”

a smile returned to your lips as you sat beside him. “i like you, tobio-kun. are the feelings i read true?” you asked him, tilting your head curiously.

the color on his cheeks seemed to darken as he avoided your intent gaze for a moment before nodding. “they’re as i wrote them.. i really do like you, y/n — and i meant every word i said.. i was just scared you might’ve felt.. differently.”

“well,” you grabbed his hand, grinning brightly. “rest assured the feelings are mutual at long last!”

notes. sorry this is rushed and written in like 7382393939 different sittings.. hoping i was able to fulfill your request somewhat?? idk how in character he is.. but anyway, ty for the request anon and sorry for the very long wait ahaha.. please enjoy!

↳ return to main masterlist . request rules . send an ask

[mangostarjam]

study break — kaiju no. 8, hoshina soshiro x reader, established relationship, it's just fluff, "love" as a pet name, 700ish words

for 🧸 anon

"Soshiroooooo."

Hoshina Soshiro pauses at the door, but you only bury your head further into your arms resting on your desk. He comes closer and sets a small plate of sliced apples by your elbow, where there's still some space. Papers are crumpled everywhere, haphazardly, books pinned open with whatever was at hand at the time — a half eaten bag of strawberry matcha kitkats, Soshiro's nearly empty coffee mug from this morning, your pencil case with highlighters spilling out —

"Soshirooo, save me," you whine, interrupting his mental catalogue of your desk. The soft glow of your lamp washes over both of you as he leans closer. "I don't know how to read anymore."

Soshiro laughs and slides his calloused hands along your shoulders, slipping them beneath the thin straps of your tank top. And then — there's no other word for it — you melt as he begins massaging the stiffness from your muscles. "My poor lil love," he says fondly. "That sounds pretty bad."

You tilt your head to look at him and pout. Even with dark circles beneath your eyes, you're criminally cute, and Soshiro has to resist the urge to pinch your ear. "How am I gonna take these tests if I can't read, Soshiro?"

"You're a smart one," Soshiro digs his thumbs into your shoulders and you groan. The corner of his lips lift in a lopsided smile. "You'll figure it out."

"I'm gonna fail," you sigh. You reach for his hand to press a soft kiss to his palm and his heart does a funny little skip. "Will you still love me if I'm illiterate?"

"I'd love ya to the end of the world," Soshiro says easily. You press his palm against your cheek and your elbow bumps into the plate he brought in.

"What's this?" you dislodge his hands as you sit up to grab the plate. "Did you really cut them into little bunnies? This is so cute!"

"Only the best for you," he says, stealing a slice and popping it into his mouth. The fruit is crunchy and sweet, its juice flooding his tongue as you copy him and hum with pleasure.

"I should take a pic and send this to your friends!"

"Please don't," Soshiro snorts. "You're gonna ruin my rep."

"But they deserve to know how amazing you are," you say seriously. You turn your seat so you're facing him properly, hooking your legs behind his ankles so he's standing as close to you as possible while you're still sitting in a chair. "Soshiro, these apple bunnies are a work of art! They belong in the — mmph!"

Soshiro sticks another apple slice in your mouth and holds it there as you chomp down on it, shooting him a halfhearted glare for interrupting your passionate speech. You look cute with your cheek all puffed up with chewing, but he knows better than to mention it now. "If ya learn how to read again, maybe I'll teach ya how to cut 'em like that."

You finish the apple and shake your head adamantly, still chewing. He waits patiently as you swallow, cupping your cheeks with both hands when you're done and squishing your lips together as you laugh. Your smile is so wide he feels like he's got the world in his hands.

"I only want apple bunnies from you."

"Alright, if ya finish your study session early tonight, I'll give ya a kiss."

You frown beseechingly and your hands come up to play with the hem of his loose sleep shirt. "But I've got a billion more pages to go!"

"Sleep's part of the job, too," he flicks your forehead lightly and chuckles when you pout. "The rest of it'll still be here tomorrow."

"Alright," you sigh, though you show zero signs of letting him go, "I'll remember this when you're the one staying up too late working."

"Is my reward gonna be the same?" Soshiro asks. You giggle.

"With your work ethic I think I'll need to come up with something bigger to pull you away from your desk," you tug on his shirt and he snorts. Your smile softens. "Thanks for the snack, love."

That's just unfair. He sighs, smirking to himself when you tilt your head in confusion. "This doesn't count," he mutters, leaning down to give you a slow, sweet kiss. You sigh into his mouth and he huffs in exasperation, pulling away reluctantly.

"Is it bedtime already?" you ask teasingly. Soshiro pinches your ear lightly.

"Shut up and eat your apples."

[fuckmymunson]

thinking abt steve and robin teasing eddie about how nervous he gets around reader and how she probably ruins him in bed.

little do they know, he’s the one that ruins her, teasing her until shes begging him to fuck her and then fucking her into the mattress until she can’t think about anything but him🥴

💌; Oh fuck yeah, definitely. Especially because Robin and Steve helped him to fucking rehearse asking you on a date... Which didn't end up as expected. Not mattress because I'm in the mood of wanting to be fucked in a car sorry I love u anon.

💌; 18+!, smut, minors DNI. Oral sex (m), a lil' of facefucking, the tiniest bit of mean!Eddie (if you squint, like he's not even mean?), dirty talk (he says slut like 1 time), facials <3.

"Again! From the start, come on Munson you can do it" Robin sighed from her place in Steve's couch.

"Can I please take this fucking thing off?" Steve groaned from his place in the kitchen, referring to the cheap party shop wig he was wearing. It wasn't even your hair color.

"No you can't, now bring your ass over here, and please make a better impression, she doesn't sound like that, she's not permanently congested" Robin yelled from the living room and shook her head. "This cheap actresses that I gotta work with..."

"Hey! I heard that!" Steve yelled back. "Can we please focus?" Eddie complained from his spot on the living room as well, rubbing his face with frustration. "She would never go out with me! I can't even talk to her without stuttering and getting all flustered and—"

"But that's why we are here, dumbass" Robin interrupted him, crossing her arms over her chest. "So you can practice your pick-up lines on our cheap harlot" "Hey!" Steve chirped, again. "I'm not cheap!" "So you are a harlot" Robin laughed. "I can't do this" Eddie ignored them, already sinking on a spiral of anxiety and disappointment.

Unbeknownst to him, or anyone really, a certain someone knocked on Steve's front door. Their voices combined and Eddie's tantrum muffled the gentle knocks. The door was unlocked, and you saw Eddie's van, so you might as well just invite yourself in.

As you walked in, your eyes met the back of a leather jacket, Eddie was unaware of your presence as he continued rambling about how much he hated himself for being an illiterate fuck. Robin, on the other hand, saw you— But quickly pretended not to, instead, she pinched the bridge of her nose. She only had one chance to pull this card.

"Okay, Munson. Let's pretend she is here" Robin called your name and that made you stop your tracks. Were they talking about you? A lump of anxiety started forming on the pit of your stomach. "What would you say to her, if you had the damn ability to talk without sounding like an idiot?" "Well..." Eddie sighed, already feeling his cheeks reddening at the thought of your soft, caring smile, to the sweet sound of your voice. "That I like her, so, so bad. That I can't spend a single fucking day without thinking about her. How much I want to fucking yank her and kiss her every time she places a hand on my arm to ask me how my day was. Fuck, I think I'm in love with her. I wish I could tell her how fucking insane I am about her. I just want to make her happy, dude, but I can seem to form a single damn rational thought whenever I'm with her. I probably sound like an idiot" "Probably?" Steve asked from the kitchen's arch frame. He also failed to notice you. "But how in the hell I'm going to tell her all that?" Eddie gripped the end of his jacket with frustration.

"I think you just did, dumbass" Robin smiled and pointed at your direction with her chin.

Both Eddie and Steve screamed your name; One, by embarrassment of you listening to his literal love confession, and the other one because you saw him wearing a horrible, odd smelling wig.

Since then, you two had been dating. At to say it was practically like touching heaven, was bit of a understatement.

Sharing every little moment with him was absolutely amazing.

As time passed, other things started to happen as well...

It started off slowly, both of you exploring each other's bodies, learning what made you moan, cry, scream his name... Eddie was as fast as he was eager. This boy was utterly starved, and he treated you as his favorite desert, or meal, or drink, or whatever.

Robin and Steve usually bothered him of how much of a whiny bottom he was. If he had to pretend Steve was you to fucking ask you on a date (which was a disaster), how could he even have the balls to dom you when the doors were closed? They learned that under your sweet, caring façade, you were quite bossy.

"Eddie, let's go" You frowned, grabbing his arm. "It's getting late"

"But love" He whined, dragging the pet name. Sometimes he could be a pain in the ass. "I don't wanna go yet"

"I don't care, we have school tomorrow, plus you are driving me home. You're not drinking anymore" Your tone was worried and a tad annoyed, it wasn't your best day either.

"Go with your mommy, Eddiebear" Robin laughed, using the nickname she heard from you to tease him endlessly.

"Or else she will spank you" Steve joined, twisting another beer and throwing the tap around his backyard.

"Fuck you" Eddie groaned and flipped them off.

"Not our job, Eddibear" Robin snapped back and the pair started laughing until it hurt.

Eddie pouted the whole ride, already scheming what he had stored for you. You failed to notice how his eyes looked at you from head to toe, feeling already eager to bend you over the kitchen counter and have his way with you.

At the end, he couldn't wait either.

He parked the van next to a closed restaurant, closer to the alley where the trash truck drove by. Dragging you to the back of his vehicle and forcing his cock down your throat. He watched how the tears rolled down your cheeks, and how your hand sneaked between your skirt to finger your already wet cunt. Yanking your hair, he slapped your cheeks a few times for good measure.

"Keep your fucking words in line, okay?" He asked and you nodded weakly. Sucking the swollen, leaking tip of his cock.

"Sorry," You apologized, going down to lick and suck on his balls, making him groan in delight.

"What did you say, slut?" Eddie grunted and yanked your hair to rub his dick in your forehead as you choked on his balls, trying to speak. The muffled sound made him moan, close to cumming.

His hand on your hair tightened and Eddie slid his hard, thick cock inside your eager mouth again, fucking your face without any restrain, already knowing how you liked it, how soaked it made you, and of course, how much he loved it.

"F—Fuck" Eddie whined and came all over your face, pleased with your little cry of satisfaction. He watched you lick him clean and use your finger to smear it over your lips, tasting him, moaning in contentment. "Only I can fucking use you like this, did you hear me, princess?"

"Yes, Sir" You smiled and he leaned down to kiss you, shoving his tongue down your throat. "I love you, Eddie" You moaned against his lips as his free hand came down to pinch your nipples from over your thin tank top.

"I love you, princess" He sighed back, kissing you again.

💌 Bit of a rushed ending? I don't know. Hope you like it! Mwah.

Sorry for any mistakes! English is not my first language. Thank you for reading!˚ ༘♡ ���｡˚

[jiiyen]

More Than a Friend- a BEST Friend!

Sim Jaeyun ff SERIES, bsf to lovers, fluff and angst 

Note: idk how to format these and this is technically my first official ff. Uhhh. there’s definitely gonna be more and i'm sorry i took so long bc im literally an illiterate idiot also this is a teaser bc i figured i should spit something out

Lowkey dedicated to @honeybelleee and that jake anon- DW this is gonna be a whole thing!!

THESE ARE MINI JAKE AND [NAME], THEY ARE CHILDREN HERE!!

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.  teaser ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚. 

“Mama, please!” Jake whines, his tiny hands tugging on her sweater. “Please, Mama, I really wanna go to the park!” He had been asking all week, and his Mama promised she’d take him. He wasn’t being bratty, per se, but he had definitely been making his feelings known throughout the whole week.

You two went to the same kindergarten. It was a small private school, averaging about 20-30+ kids per class, the smallest class being the youngest- preschool. But that’s not important. You and Jake were classmates, but you’re pretty sure he doesn’t know you. Well- really know you. He knows your name, sure, but in your tiny class of 12 girls and 15 boys, you never really interacted. The guys stuck with guys, and girls stuck with girls- with the exception of games. Your class loved games. So much so that your little 5-6 year old minds collectively came up with your own version of tag with so many different complex rules that left teachers and parents very confused on how even the quietest, least energetic kids came to them, scratched up and faces red from the loss of air.

You were one of those quieter kids, one of the ones who would happily sit in the corner and color or read- well, as best as you could. You’re only 5, but you could proudly read out the whole alphabet and words like ‘water’, ‘the’, ‘and’.. yeah okay, smarty pants. That’s enough showing off. 

Jake was one of the cooler kids. Older kids liked him, eighth graders would play soccer with him, all the teachers knew him… Your friend Belle told you he even went into the teachers lounge one time! Point is, there’s no way he knew you. You two only talked during your weekly games of tag, or when teachers paired you two up. But hey, you’re kids. You’ve always paid attention to him. But does he pay attention to you?

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚. 

[anonymityisfunwriter]

The GED

Pairing - Grumpy!Bucky Barnes x Sunshine!Reader Summary - There's more than one way to be smart. Or so you've been told. But how on Earth do you go about proving that you're not (the stupid, illiterate Avenger) dumb?

Anon's 1K Celebration | The GED Series List

"Can you please just listen to me?" Sam begs you. "I'm telling you this is a bad idea."

"Or it's an amazing idea and it'll all be for the better!" you counter, plating the last of your freshly baked chocolate chip cookies.

He snatches a cookie from the plate when he thinks you're not watching, "Or you'll make an already strained relationship like ten times worse."

You glare at him, snatching the cookie back and placing it back on the plate, "Or by then end of the day we'll have a new set of friends."

Bucky groans, entering the room just in time to hear your rebuttal to Sam's negativity, "Please, not more friends. I don't like the ones I have as it is."

"See?" Sam wildly gestures to Bucky. "When do we ever agree on anything? It just proves that this is a terrible idea!"

"Hi," Bucky finally greets you, gently pecking your lips. "Missed you. Now, who exactly are we trying to make friends with?"

"The SHIELD agents downstairs," you blithely reply.

Bucky quirks an eyebrow at you, "Why? They hate us."

"That's exactly what I said!" Sam frantically exclaims.

"Have we ever asked ourselves why they hate us?" you muse. "Maybe we need to be a little nicer to them."

"Or maybe it's because they're bitter and jealous that we're better than them," Sam remarks.

"Well, it's definitely not because of Sam's incredible sense of humility," Bucky sarcastically retorts.

"Shut up," Sam snarks. "And we are better. Our stats are better, we get first pick of assignments, our mission times are like a third of theirs, Fury trusts us a hell of a lot more, and we get all the good snacks."

"And that means we can't be friends?" you rhetorically ask. "We work together all the time!"

"Listen, it's not that bad of a deal," Bucky tries to convince you. "They tolerate us. We tolerate them. It's never caused a problem on missions or anything, so who cares? Not everyone in this world is going to like you."

"Who else doesn't like me?" you frantically question, quirking an eyebrow at Bucky.

"Everyone likes you," Bucky assures you.

"Except the people downstairs," Sam teases.

"That's it!" You throw your hands up in frustration. "I'm going down there. I'm just going to bring these cookies down there and talk to them. They're just people, I'm sure they're all really nice!"

"Nice going," Bucky mutters to Sam, elbowing him in the ribs. "Come on, can't we just leave well enough alone? Isn't it enough that the people who actually know you like you? And not to mention, I like you and I don't like anybody."

"Aww.." you coo at Bucky, caressing his cheek. "Nope, too late, I'm committed."

"Why?" Sam groans. "You're never going to get everyone in the world to like you!"

"Oh, yes, I can! I've spend my entire time out in the world cultivating a personality that's impossible not to like just to satisfy my compulsive people pleasing tendencies."

Bucky's eyebrows furrow as a teasing smile pulls at the corner of his mouth, "People really don't see this side of you enough."

Sam nods, "You're a little scary when you think people don't like you."

"Scary or strangely endearing?" you wonder.

"Scary! Definitely scary!"

Bucky sighs to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose, "You're not going to leave this alone, are you?"

You beam at the two of them, scooping up the plate of cookies, "Not even a little bit."

"It's a bad idea!" Sam bellows down the corridor as you walk away from him.

You roll your eyes as you step onto the elevator and tell Friday to take you to the third floor, where the SHIELD agents typically hung out.

It wasn't a bad idea. It was a great idea. What could go wrong with trying to bring people closer together? They were just people. They were people you had to trust with your lives, why not get to know them a little bit more?

As you step off the elevator, you immediately notice that this layout is almost identical to the one upstairs, except without all the extravagant touches of Tony Stark. You amble down the hallway, looking for a sign of anyone. You figure if the layout is the same, their common room will be in the same place as the one upstairs. 

You're right, you realize when you start to hear faint voices from where you thought their common room would be. Even all the way down the hall, voices echo off the walls as you make your way closer.

You certainly don't mean to eavesdrop or listen into a conversation that you're not supposed to hear.

No, you definitely don't mean to eavesdrop on your new friends, but the open floor plan does nothing to dampen the sounds of their booming voices. 

"Yeah, I leave first thing tomorrow," an unfamiliar voice sighs.

"Who with?" someone else asks.

You don't like the way they spit Bucky's name out in disgust, "Barnes."

"Oh, he's the worst!" the same voice dramatically groans. You silently scoff at the insinuation that Bucky was the worst. "He just sits and stares like he's got nothing better to do."

"Please, I'd take him over his girlfriend any day," a different female scoffs.

You freeze at the mention of yourself. You know you should go. You shouldn't be listening to this. The things they were saying were definitely not nice, but neither was eavesdropping.

"Oh come on, she's not that bad."

You sigh in relief, feeling a little better that someone was defending you. You could go upstairs and tell Sam that he was wrong, not all the SHIELD agents were that bad.

And in the next second, you were proved very, very wrong.

"She's just such an idiot!" Your stomach twists in knots as the same SHIELD agent continues complaining about you. This is what you got for eavesdropping, you tell yourself. They're entitled to their own opinions about you. Better yet, you could change their minds and show them that there was more to you than what meets the eye. You just don't want to believe that people can be this mean, that it's so easy for them to be this casually cruel. They just didn't know you. You were sure that if they did know you all, they wouldn't be saying such awful things. "I don't know what everyone sees in her, but I swear I can see right through that whole Sunshine act."

"I dunno, she acted like that on the last mission I had with her."

"She didn't let up? Not once?"

"Nope! The whole time."

"I'd rather get caught by the bad guys then deal with her for a whole week."

"Who knows, maybe Barnes likes them dumb," the agent giggles. The words feel like a punch to the gut. You want to leave, to turn on your heels and pretend like you never heard a thing, but you're frozen in shock. "Like a Stepford Wife thing."

"If that's true, then they'll be together forever," the same agent, the one going on a mission with Bucky tomorrow, jokes. 

"What do you think they even talk about?"

"Who knows?"

"My question is what kind of adult makes it knowing as little as she does?"

"The kind with Fury in their back pocket."

"Exactly! It's the only reason she's even apart of the team. I'd bet anything she's never even picked up a book."

"Can I tell you guys something?" an agent exclaims. "Someone got into a bunch of their files upstairs. And guess what? She can't even read! She's illiterate! An illiterate Avenger!"

Your blood runs cold. Those were private. They held so much intimate information about you and your history and they were using it to make fun of you, make fun of the people that chose to love you.

You weren't sure what was worse, that they were using your past to make fun of you, or that they knew intimate details of your past, they knew the torment you were put through as a child and they still thought it was funny, they still used it as a way to belittle you. As though you had any control over it. As though it was your fault.

It's only then that you realize that tears are staining your cheeks, that you're still standing in the hallway with a plate of cookies as a peace offering for the SHIELD agents making fun of you and your friends. 

"Probably doesn't even know what a book is. Maybe her next mission should be a day of kindergarten."

It's mean. It's meaner than they have any right to be, but a lightbulb goes off in your head as you finally regain the ability to leave.

You furiously wiped away your tears, storming down the corridor and back to your side of the Compound. You leave the plate of pastries on the counter for your team mates.

And you made a decision right then and there. You wouldn't cry. You wouldn't try to convince them that you were smart. You would just do better. Be better. You were going to show them that you could be more than the illiterate Avenger. 

In that very moment, you decide your very next mission: School.

AnonymityIsFun Masterlist Grumpy Sunshine Series Anon's 1K Celebration

As always, let me know what you think! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! 💛

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[python333]

I love your writings sm. And I love the way you write platonic stuff with task force 141 😋

You can ignore this if ya want but I just can't get over reader angst. Honestly atp I starve for angst. Could you feed us another angst fic? Like platonic 141 with a reader where she maybe got pretty badly injured while being on a mission? :3

AND. don't forget to stay hydrated and eat well!! Take any breaks you need 😌.

(sorry if this doesn't make sense English is not my native language 🥲)

below zero — python333

— — — —

synopsis u get thrown into a freezer after refusing to give up intel to enemy soldiers, and u get thrown into a freezer, and ghost comes and saves u :3

relationships platonic!ghost & gn!reader.

characters ghost.

word count 5.2k

warnings hypothermia, disorientation, 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign].

note hi anon thank u so much for all the compliments!!! before i say anything else, i wanna point out that i 1) only really wrote ghost into this and 2) literally read the request completely wrong and i think im actually just illiterate because how did i mess up this bad. ALSO hi its been a month since i posted on here i swear i'm still alive i'm just super busy with school!! updates are going to be extremely slow, so i apologize in advance. still, i hope u enjoy it anyways tho!! its all hurt/comfort + angst/fluff + protective/soft ghost :3

When you were thrown into the freezer, the first thing you noticed were the bodies. 

There’s ten that you can immediately see, and twelve once you look a little bit closer. All of them are suspended from the ceiling, each hanging from their ankle—with said ankle being held up by a meat hook. 

When the door had been closed shut with a loud, booming thump you hadn’t felt any immediate fear. But now, as you’re sitting in the corner of the freezer you’d been trapped in—the corner farthest away from any bodies—that fear is starting to set in.

Before this, only a few minutes ago, you were being interrogated. Your captors were asking for information on the details of any upcoming missions, objectives, target locations, anything that you had about the 141 that you could share with them, they wanted. 

Of course, you didn’t say anything. You remained silent throughout the entire thing, not talking once, even when at the end of the whole thing your interrogator slammed his hand down onto the table you were sat down in front of and yelled at you to say anything. 

When he and his team figured out that you wouldn’t give them any information, you remember he muttered something unintelligible under his breath and swiftly walked over to your end of the table. He had uncuffed your ankles from the legs of the chair you were sitting down on and uncuffed your wrists from the table, and before you could fight back, he grabbed both of your wrists with one hand and dragged you behind him. 

Then, he led you to the freezer you were trapped in now, and threw you in roughly before shutting the door behind you. You had hit and scratched at the door for a good minute after being thrown in, and after you figured that it was a waste of time trying to do so, you sighed and retired to the corner.

Now, as you’re huddled in the corner, you kind of regret not giving them the intel they needed. 

The freezer wasn’t too bad at first—you thought you’d last pretty long in there, and mentally called all the dead bodies hung from meat hooks in there pussies and simply walked around for a bit. The walking helped warm you up a bit, but soon it got tiring, and you retired to the corner farthest away from any dead bodies. 

You think the freezer is below zero degrees—no, has to be below zero, because now, just about five minutes after being thrown in, violent shivers have started to wrack your body and you swear you can’t feel your lips anymore. You haven’t been able to feel any sort of warmth in the past four minutes, all of it disappearing within the first. 

And God, the smell. The smell of frozen, rotting flesh really isn’t something you ever want to smell again. Thankfully, there’s no live flies in the freezer—all of them had died of the severe cold, creating small black circles under each hanging body where they died. 

You currently have your knees up to your chest with your hands trapped in between your thighs to try and keep them warm at least, with your forehead resting on the top of one of your knees. It’s working, kind of. The palms and backs of your hands feel just warm enough to not be considered cold, but the tips of your fingers are so cold they’re beginning to burn. 

You pull them back a bit to trap your fingertips in between your thighs, exposing the area where your wrist and hand meet to the cold, sighing as your fingertips warm up just a bit. Your thighs, thankfully, still have some heat trapped in between them, and you think your stomach is still somewhat warm. 

Around ten minutes later, you feel the heat trapped in your thighs start to dissipate. Fucking fantastic. You sigh and let your head tilt back, the back of it hitting the wall behind you, making you wince at the cold metal directly on your head. The cold seems to crawl through your hair and make it to your scalp, small pinpricks of the cold spreading throughout your scalp and the back of your neck. 

You’re reminded of just how cold it is then, of how this is quite literally a freezer, and of how said freezer has already claimed twelve lives. Or, at least, has housed twelve dead bodies and several unfortunate flies.

Just then, the fear finally starts to set in. 

At first, you weren’t all too worried about being saved—you figured you’d be found soon enough, since your team has a general idea of where you are. But the more you think about it, the more your brain emphasizes the general part of general idea. You start to think about how they don’t know any specifics. 

Sure, they know that you were captured, and that you were being held in some small part of Italy, and the people who captured you—but what did they know beyond that? Did they know your exact location? How long would it take them to figure it out? And how long would it take them to get here? 

Would you even be alive by the time they got here, if they ever did?

You notice your teeth starting to make an annoying chattering noise and you bite down to stop them. The violent shivers that wrack your body don’t help, the intense trembling only succeeding in making you more anxious. You start to become hyper aware of the cold that crawls onto your back from the freezing metal you’re leaning back on, and you quickly push yourself just a foot away from it so that it no longer bothers you. 

Your feet are starting to feel numb, you don’t think you’d be able to stand on them anymore if you tried, for you fear you’d just stumble and fall down. You look around the small freezer. There’s nothing that could help you get out—there’s only the bodies suspended from the ceiling and the dead flies that surround them. 

You’re glad none of the bodies are facing you—you don’t know what you would do if you had to sit in the corner with a bunch of dead bodies staring at you with their vacant, frozen-over eyes. Thinking about the eyes makes your own water, and you blink away the small tears that’ve gathered on your waterline. 

You can’t feel them, but you see the tears that were once in your eyes now clumping together on your eyelashes, making your brows furrow. With them starting to cling to your eyelashes comes blurriness for the top half of whatever you can see. You sigh, a white puff of condensation hanging in the air as evidence of your exhale, and move your hand out from in between your thighs to wipe away the tears from your lashes haphazardly. 

You don’t bother to put your hand back in between your thighs, instead just resting it on top of your knee. Despite it only having been around fifteen minutes since you were thrown into the freezer, you’re starting to feel more fatigued and your breath slows down significantly, as does your heartbeat. 

Another ten minutes of doing nothing but staring at the wall opposite of your own pass by, and disorientation is starting to set in. You feel oddly forgetful—like at times, you forget how you even got into the freezer, and have to wrack your brain to remember that you literally got thrown into it and are now trapped in here until someone rescues you. Assuming they do. Who was it that would even rescue you? 

You think long and hard for a few seconds, and can scrounge up nothing from your confused mind. You let out a frustrated huff and let your head tilt and fall forward so that your forehead is resting atop your knee, another shiver ripping through your frame. It almost feels like it’s getting colder in the fridge. 

Suddenly, you hear a loud banging noise—albeit, it sounded more muffled to your ears, but you could tell it was loud—and guns being fired. 

You can’t really tell when the gunfire dies down, but you can tell when the thumping of someone’s boots grows louder and closer to the door of the freezer. You try to stand up, not really knowing why since you’re in no condition to fight, having been in a freezer for about forty minutes, but you still attempt to. 

You find that standing is extremely difficult after practically being frozen alive for the past forty minutes, because as soon as you try to even push yourself off of the ground with your shaky hands, you discover that you aren’t even strong enough to push yourself up a single inch before having to stop. As well as that, you find that the ground is just as freezing as the walls and air of the freezer, because your hands now ached with frostbite. 

The action causes an unexpected wave of exhaustion to roll over you, and you pant to try and catch your breath, breathing white puffs of condensation out into the air. 

You hear a loud bang against the door, and jump at the sound, your head whipping towards the door. You hear another loud noise, and the confused fog that’s taken over your mind only grows thicker, your disorientation only growing stronger with it. The room feels like it’s spinning, and the feeling reminds you of a word, and you know what the word is, but fuck, why don’t you know it at the same time? Why can’t I remember anything? 

There’s another bang, and you hear muffled cursing before suddenly the door bursts open, a man wearing a skull mask stumbling in after it does so—he probably ran into it to open it, you think, watching the man get his balance back. He looks around for a moment before his eyes land on you, and the moment they do, you finally remember something. 

That’s Ghost. 

Somewhere in your confusion-clouded mind, you’re happy that you’ve finally remembered something. But right now, you can’t really think about anything—your mind is blank, and you can barely even process what you’re seeing. 

You’re so caught up in thinking about the fact that you aren’t really thinking, you’re just focusing a little more on whatever’s going on in your mind and not actually retaining any of it, that you don’t even notice Ghost rushing towards you and kneeling down right next to you. 

He pauses for a moment, but after a second he makes the decision to put one hand behind your back and snake one under your legs, the warm physical touch making you wince. Not that you didn’t like the warmth—you just didn’t like the sudden temperature change beneath your knees and across your back.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” Ghost grunts as he picks you up, one arm under your knees and the other behind your back, lifting you up into a sort of bridal carry. He nearly drops you because of how cold your skin is—for a moment he thinks your back and legs are wet, then he realizes that no, they aren’t wet, you’re just really fucking cold. 

He takes a moment to make sure you’re secure in his arms before tilting his head to the side, all the way down to his shoulder, and muttering something into his earpiece. Despite being so close to him, his voice only sounds muffled to you—in all honesty, just about everything is starting to sound more muffled to you. You can only tell he’s done talking because he lifts his head back up and readjusts his arms around you, before walking out the busted-open door. 

The walking quickly turns into running, which then turns into sprinting, making your surroundings go blurry and makes your vertigo worse—it almost feels like you’re falling. You’re grateful you haven’t eaten anything in the past few hours, because you fear that if you had, you would’ve thrown it all up by now. All you can see are blurred colors—the hallways, you vaguely remember, because I’m in a building. How’d I even get here? Why am I here? You’re pulled out of your confused thoughts when you’re set down on the ground somewhere, and forced into a lying position with your limbs all outstretched. When you slowly blink up at what you thought was the ceiling, you’re both surprised and not surprised when you see the blue-black night sky. 

Not sure of what’s going on, you try to get up, but Ghost quickly pushes you back down, muttering something under his breath. He pauses for a moment, his blurred figure stopping any and all movements, before he suddenly picks you back up, making you wince at the way your head spins at the sudden movement. You hear a quiet, muffled—but clearer than before—’sorry’ from Ghost before he’s running again. 

It’s a much shorter distance this time, and instead of immediately setting you down, you hear something click and suddenly you hear another muffled voice. They sound concerned, you mentally note, Or maybe confused. Maybe both, actually. No yeah, definitely both. Well, now just concerned. Or maybe that’s confused. 

Caught up in your confused thoughts, you don’t realize that you’re being set down on a few comfy seats. You aren’t pulled away from your own thoughts until you feel two warm hands cupping either side of your jaw, and hear Ghost’s oddly distressed voice becoming more clear by the second. You now acknowledge the weird ringing in your ears that almost drown out the sound of Ghost, and struggle to figure out what he’s saying through the annoying noise. 

“—something,” You catch the end of Ghost’s sentence, and blink up at him slowly. 

“Huh?” You elegantly ask, coughing and wincing at your hoarse voice, not knowing how it got so hoarse—or why it hurt so much to talk. Your throat almost felt like it was burning, but it also felt oddly numb, a sensation you couldn’t quite put a name on. 

“Oh my god,” Ghost sighs, his forehead falling onto your chest momentarily as he takes a few deep breaths. He brings his head back up from your chest and says, “I almost thought you were dead when I got in there. Jesus, you look dead. I need to— I need to get something, a blanket or— why the fuck don’t we carry any heat packs or anything in here? Swear to God, I’m gonna—” You don’t pay too much attention to Ghost’s panicked ranting and shift your head to the side to try and look at where you are, and you discover that you’re in a car. Oh. Cool. You spot the door on the passenger seat’s side still open and swinging a bit, as if it’d been opened quickly just a few moments earlier for someone to quickly get out. 

Ghost suddenly backs up and gets out of the car, though staying within a foot of it, looking around for a moment before heading to the back of the car. Your head clears up the tiniest bit, just enough for you to be able to assume that he’s heading to the back of the car to get to the trunk for whatever reason, and you simply lie there on the seat cushions. 

A few seconds later, Ghost comes back with a somewhat-fluffy jacket, and carefully gets into the car—half kneeling down so that he doesn’t need to lean on the seats to get to you. He tosses the coat over your chest, and it does absolutely nothing at first, at least not until Ghost gets a bit closer and tucks the coat tighter around you, treating it like a blanket. Then, it starts to warm you up just the tiniest bit. Beyond that, it does absolutely nothing. But props to Ghost for at least trying. 

He quickly backs out of the car and once he’s out he closes the door behind him, and you want to get up for a moment, just to go see what he’s doing, but you don’t have to. He gets into the car again, this time in the driver’s seat, and he turns on the ignition. Once the car rumbles to life, he immediately turns up the heat and leans over to the passenger seat’s side in order to close the door, and with a grunt he manages to do so. 

The newfound heat makes you shiver, and it almost feels like you’re in a microwave defrosting. Distracted by the sudden temperature change, you don’t pay attention to what Ghost is saying into his earpiece as he glances out the front window of the car and back at you. You simply tug the jacket tighter around your torso and relish in the warmth. 

“—ay. So we’ll just leave then, and you’ll be fine?” You pick up from Ghost’s conversation, perking up at the mention of leaving, “Copy that, Captain. I’ll get them back to base.”

‘Captain’—Oh, he’s talking to Price—says something that makes Ghost sigh exasperatedly and take his index finger off of his earpiece, instead settling both of his hands on the steering wheel of the car and stealing one last glance at you before setting his eyes on the gravel ahead of him and pushing down on the gas pedal.

— 

When you wake up, you’re significantly warmer than you were… however-long-it’s-been-ago. 

You look to your left and see nothing but a white wall and a heart rate monitor—which displays that your heart rate is 115—then to your right, where you see Ghost sitting in a plastic chair close to the bed you’re laying in, eyes closed with his head tilted to the side and resting on his own shoulder.

You don’t bother trying to wake him up, not knowing how long he’s been asleep or how much sleep he’s gotten, and instead simply turn your head back to stare up at the ceiling. 

After maybe five minutes of zoning out and staring up at the ceiling, you hear clothes rustling and look back over to your right, seeing Ghost start to stir in his sleep. Just a few seconds later, he stirs awake, slowly blinking his eyes open. 

You watch silently as he blinks the sleep out of his eyes, and he breathes in sharply through his nose before looking over at you and seeing you staring at him wordlessly. You both blink at each other for a long, awkward moment before he speaks. 

“… Did you, uh… how was your… rest?” Ghost asks, not sure what to say. What exactly do you say, after saving one of your teammates from potential death?

“Good,” You respond, your throat having an odd, small burning sensation when you talk. 

Ghost looks like he’s holding back a few words for a moment after you speak, and after one expectant look from you, he mumbles, “You should really say ‘well’ or ‘fine’ instead. It’d be more grammatically accurate and is more grammatically aligned with the verb ‘rest’.” 

“… Okay?” You blink, thrown off by the unexpected information, “I’ll, uh… keep that in mind, next time someone asks me how my rest was.” 

“You get asked that often?” 

“I only get asked that by you.” 

“Ah.” Ghost nods, looking off to the side for a moment. You’d think he was your dad and you’d just asked him how babies were made with how awkward he was, and you honestly expected the next words out of his mouth to be ‘when a man and a woman love each other very much’ before he hesitantly asks, “D’you feel better? After the whole being-trapped-in-a-freezer… experience?” 

“Experience?” You question, a light laugh evident in your voice, “Yeah, I feel better. I like being warm more than, y’know, being frozen alive. Laying down in a warm bed is nice.”

“I didn’t know how else to phrase it,” Ghost huffs out, leaning back in his seat. 

“So you’re gonna correct me on my grammar but you can’t think of a better word than ‘experience’?” 

“Don’t get smart with me, [c/n].” 

“I’m just saying,” You shrug lightly, wincing a little when your shoulders ache as you do. Ghost notices this and his eyes narrow, but he doesn’t mention it. 

“Then stop trying to sass me.” 

“Sass you? Jesus, fuck, don’t talk to me like I’m some preteen who just found out that they can talk back to their parents.” 

“Isn’t that what you are, though?” 

“No, I’m— you know what? Fuck you. Get out. I hate you. You suck.” 

“That’s a colorful choice of words to say to the man who saved your life,” Ghost raises an eyebrow at you, “I’m still waiting for my ‘thank you’, by the way.” 

“Don’t care, you’re never getting it,” You say stubbornly, making Ghost sigh and stand up. You look up at him as he stands up and try to sit up in your bed, but wince again when you try to move your arms. Still, you attempt to push yourself up, and only relax your weak joints and lay back down when Ghost presses a gentle hand to your shoulder to get you to stop trying to sit up. 

“Don’t,” He warns softly—you didn’t know his voice could get that soft—as he pushes you back down, “Medics said you’re to keep laying down for a bit while you warm up. We’ve gotta wait until your BPM is below a hundred before letting you up.” 

“That’s stupid,” You huff out, though not fighting Ghost pushing you back down. 

“It’s not stupid,” Ghost lightly chastises you, “It’s doctor’s orders. Once your BPM is below a hundred, we’ll know you’re warmed up enough to start gettin’ up and walking around.” 

“… Still stupid,” You grumble, not commenting on the way Ghost’s hand lingers on your shoulder even after you’ve already laid back down. Ghost sighs and kneels down so that his shoulders are level with the railing of your bed. 

“You’re too stubborn.” 

“I’m not.” 

“Yes you are.” 

“No I’m not!” Your light arguing only proves Ghost’s point further, and he knows this, the knowledge of it making him snicker quietly. 

“Uh huh. Sure, kid,” He begins to retract his hand from your shoulder, but upon seeing the disappointment that immediately seeps into your expression once he even barely begins to lift his hand from your shoulder, he immediately lets it rest right back onto your shoulder. 

You both sit in silence for another few moments before Ghost speaks up again, this time a bit quieter and in that same soft tone he’d used earlier, “I tried to get to you quicker. But we needed some time to get your exact location, and when we found it we were a hundred and sixty klicks away, and it was just—it took us… some time to find you.” 

“It’s fine. I understand,” You respond, about to shrug but stopping yourself, not wanting to feel that aching in your shoulders again, “I don’t even know how I let myself get captured, that— that’s probably on me.” 

“You didn’t let yourself get captured, you just did.” 

“Well…”

“Well, what?” 

“I don’t know, I just—” You take a deep breath before continuing slowly, “I didn’t let myself get captured, but I also didn’t do enough to fight against it, so I feel like technically—” 

“Fuck the technicalities about how you got captured, you got captured either way, and you got thrown into a freezer,” Ghost cuts you off, talking quickly, before sighing and continuing in a softer voice once again, “Please, just let me try to be somewhat comforting for once. You know I’m bad at this, and that I never do this. So just… don’t talk about what happened like that, if not for your own mental health’s sake, at least for my attempts at making you feel better.” 

You open your mouth to say something else but ultimately close your mouth and let out a deep sigh through your nose, not saying anything, letting Ghost continue to talk. 

“I, for whatever reason, feel… very oddly bad for you,” Ghost poorly explains, before pausing to think for a moment then rephrasing, “Not… not as in I pity you, but as in I feel bad for you in a way that I feel like I’m at fault for what you went through even though I know I’m not at fault. It’s like empathy but… worse. Not saying empathy is bad to begin with, but this is like if empathy was bad and it became worse and—” 

Ghost cuts himself off with silence and lets out a frustrated huff at his inability to put his feelings into words, and tries again, “I feel bad for you in a way that I don’t know what exactly you felt or how you felt in the moment that you were in that freezer but just the idea of you being in there without me for… I’m assuming an entire hour, if not longer, makes me feel like I failed. I don’t know what I failed at—”

Ghost quickly pauses before sighing and continuing, “Actually, no, I do. I feel like I failed at protecting you. Which is strange, because that’s technically not my job, but I felt—and still feel—obligated to protect you especially and that bothers me. Not bothers me in a sense that I don’t like you or the thought of… protecting you, but bothers me in the sense that I’m not supposed to feel like that. No amount of teasing, or borderline bullying, or anything should’ve ever made me feel obligated to think of you like— like— like…” Ghost trails off, leaving you wondering what he meant to say. He stays silent for a few moments, before you try to fill in for him. 

“Like… what, a kid?” You offer, watching him shake his head negatively. You think for another moment, before trying again, “… Like your kid?” 

Ghost nods affirmatively, hesitantly, and you want to scoff at the hesitation. 

“And what, that’s bad to you?” You ask, your words more venomous than you intended. Ghost sighs and nonverbally shakes his head negatively before responding to you.

“Not bad in the way you’re thinking,” He answers, before elaborating upon seeing your confused expression, “It’s bad not because you’re bad, it’s bad because I’m bad.” 

“… No you’re not?” 

“Yes, I am.” 

“No, you’re really not,” You insist stubbornly. 

“Please don’t be stubborn with me on this,” His tone makes it sound like he’s almost begging you, which is… somehow beyond terrifying to think about.  

“I’m not being stubborn, I’m being honest, you’re really not.” 

“But I am,” He sounds like he’s trying to make his tone sound like there’s no room for any further arguments, but he fails, and you continue to argue with him. 

“No you’re not!” The whole conversation feels like a parallel to the one you’d both been having just a few minutes earlier, except this time you’re not giving up as easily, “How are you bad?” 

“I’m—” Ghost pauses for a moment, not having expected that argument, and he weakly argues, “I just am!” 

“You’re not, and you fucking know it!” 

“Okay, well—” Ghost sighs and looks away from you, “You might not think so. That’s fine. But I know I am. If not for anything else, for you. I’d be… terrible as any sort of… I don’t know, role model to you.” 

“Jokes on you, you’re already a role model to me.” 

“I’m being serious.” 

“So am I,” You raise an eyebrow at him, “You aren’t a terrible role model. A little emo, sure, but not terrible.” 

“I’m emotionally and mentally unstable, and am terrible with empathy. I’m blunt, abrasive more than half the time, and I tell the shittiest jokes known to man. I can’t— I don’t show my face to anyone. I expect everyone to act the way I want them to. I’m almost always busy.” 

“At least you’re self-aware,” You brush off, “And, for the record, I don’t know what abrasive means and I can’t tell empathy from sympathy without using Google.” 

Ghost looks back at you in disbelief and stares for a moment before saying quietly, “Abrasive means harsh. And empathy is showing understanding for others while sympathy is pity.” 

“I also like your shitty jokes,” You add on, “I think they’re great. They make everyone else mad so I like them. And some of them are funny.” 

“You find them funny?” 

“Yeah?” 

“That’s…” Ghost blinks at you, eyes a little watery, before huffing out a small laugh, “That’s ridiculous, none of them are funny. I call them shitty for a reason.” 

“Some of them are pretty funny.” 

“Oh yeah? Like what?” 

“The Mayflower one.” 

“… That one?” Ghost asks, tone humorous but still disbelieving, “Out of all the ones I’ve told, that one?” 

“Yes, that one,” You insist, before pausing and holding back a smile while tacking on, “Unless you wanna tell it again to try and change my mind?” 

Ghost thinks for a moment before telling the joke, “If April showers bring May flowers, what do Mayflowers bring?” 

You feign cluelessness for a moment, “What do they bring?” 

“Pilgrims.” The bluntness of the delivery makes you quietly snicker, much to Ghost’s surprise, the laugh not forced or anything. 

“It’s still good,” You sigh, small giggles still escaping your lips. 

“It’s really not,” Ghost sighs, finally retracting his hand from your shoulder to settle it on the railing of your bed and use it to help himself stand up. Once he fully stands up, he looks down at you, and one look at your face makes him want to whisk you out of bed and at least hug you, but he knows he can’t with your sore muscles and still-somewhat frozen skin. 

Instead, he opts for grabbing one of your hands gently and giving it a very emotionally charged squeeze, and holding it for another few moments before letting go. 

“I’m not forgetting that, by the way,” At Ghost’s confused eyes, you tack on, “You confirming earlier that you think of me as your kid.” 

“That—” Ghost stammers for a moment before saying, “That was barely a confirmation, that was just— that was nothing.” 

“Oh really?” 

“Yes. Yeah. Yep.” 

“So if I told you that you saying that that was nothing is making me a little bit upset…” 

“… Then I would say, out of pity, that I did mean it and that it was a confirmation.” 

“Good to know,” You nod. 

“But that’s only a hypothetical.” 

“Right, yeah, of course.” 

You both stay silent for another moment, the silence now a little less awkward, before Ghost says, “I’m gonna, uh… head out, now.” 

“Alright,” You hum simply, watching as Ghost nods to you as a sort of ‘bye’ before heading towards the curtains in front of your bed. 

Before he can exit, you quickly and quietly say, “Thank you, for saving me.” 

He pauses, a little confused on why you chose now to thank him—and why you thanked him at all—until he quickly recalls earlier in the conversation when he’d mentioned expecting some words of gratitude. 

He smiles behind his mask, the smile evident in his voice as he replies to you, “No problem.”

[kazutora-kurokawa]

So im very Afraid of needles and I have a doctor appointment to get a shot and I just need comfort sooooooo

Souya, taiju, draken x reader who's Afraid of needles and they go with her to a doctor appointment and comfort her during every and just hold her as she cries by the shot 🥺

TokRev x Scared!Reader

♡ SFW, fluff, fem reader, comfort, mentions of needles, Taiju stressing reader out ♡

Characters: Souya, Taiju, Draken

note: Thank you for the request anon 🩷 and good luck at your doctor's appointment!

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Souya

💠 Understands your fear, sharp things are pretty scary, especially when they're going in your body

💠 Offers as much support as he possibly can

💠 Ends up being more stressed out than you even though he's not even the one getting a shot

"Souya can you please stop pacing back and forth? You're making me more nervous than I already am!"

"I'm sorry baby, I'm just so nervous for you. I don't wanna see you hurt!"

💠 Gets scared when the doctor comes in the room and grabs the syringe from the medical cabinet

💠 Holds your hand while you get the shot and you squeeze his hand so hard it almost breaks

💠 Wipes your tears and kisses you all over your face

"It's over now baby, you're fine, okay?"

Taiju

🦈 Doesn't understand your fear of needles, but goes to the appointment with you anyway

🦈 Tries to calm you down while you're waiting for the doctor but ends up making you more paranoid

"Calm down, you'll be fine! The worst that could happen is that the needle breaks off in your arm, and that's highly unlikely."

"You're making things worse Tai, please shut up."

"Sorry, my bad. Are you really that scared of needles?"

"Yes! Terrified actually."

"Aww it's okay princess, I'll keep you safe."

🦈 Holds you the entire time, rubbing your back and reassuring you that you'll be fine

🦈 When he sees you start crying he almost threatens to beat up the doctor for hurting you

🦈 Wipes your tears away and praises you endlessly

"See it wasn't that bad was it? You did such a good job princess."

Draken

🐉 Knows that you had an appointment and cleared his schedule just for you

🐉 Wants to be by your side the entire time to comfort you

🐉 Tries to calm you down by distracting you with stories

"He lit the car on fire?!"

"I swear he did! Then the dumbass almost set himself on fire!"

"How did he almost set himself on fire?"

"He's an illiterate dumbass, what do you expect?"

🐉 You don't even realize the doctor walked in the room until they stick the needle in your arm

🐉 Draken rubs your back and kisses you on your head the whole time

"You're doing so good babydoll. It's almost over, okay?"

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Tagging @arlerts-angel and @i-literally-cant-with-this

[kataraavatara]

It's cute how TG stans screech how nobody will ever want their daughters to marry Rhaenyra's "bastard" sons, but fail to forgot how the Tyrells were quick to marry Marge to Joffrey and then Tommen knowing damn well they weren't Robert's. Maybe it's not the same, but Rhaenyra's sons had DRAGONS and royal titles. I'm sorry, but no sane Lord would pass up the promise of dragons and royal titles. Even that illiterate blowhard Borros was throwing his daughters at Luke despite the lad's betrothal to Rhaena.

one again, no notes anon. like Varys said, power resides where men believe it does, and dragons & the title of prince outweighs the horrible horrible crimes of *checks notes* being brown haired & brown eyed.