#I have a hard time articulating how I feel and it’s my business not yours

[brummiereader]

@mischievouslittlecreature 😬...he's not giving in easily when it comes to Lizzie, is he? At least, not yet. Urghh, I can't watch, but I wana watch 😭🙈!

With the business with Jessie and Lizzie, Lucy feels different to me. I don't know how to properly articulate it, but she just kinda seems like she's just going with the flow but deeply, deeply sad about everything. She just seems...done 😥. Tommy has all these ambitions and things going on with Lizzie, and I get the sense that Lucy has been completely worn down by it all. I appreciate how he's always checking on her wellbeing, but from the readers perspective, we're really starting to see a change in Lucy and how things she once enjoyed are starting to become a burden/anxiety inducing.

“You can’t be unmarried with an illegitimate child if you want to move into politics, Tommy.” Urghh, I know the topic of marriage has to be brought up. But you can tell from both Tommy and Lucy's remarks that neither of them want to be even thinking about the mere idea of it. He's a fucking gangster though! And illegitimate child it's hardly something people should be fussing about considering his line of work 😂. I swear, these posh/high society people have more twisted morals than anyone in Birmingham!

“You okay?” Tommy whispered to her in the dark. When she didn’t respond right away, his voice grew a little strained with worry. “Lucy?” yeh, I'm starting to think she's done with these threesomes now. It starting to look like a chore for her when she once enjoyed it. I find it interesting how she reflects on it, and if it's because of what happened to Luca or Lizzie. But I think that it properly goes further back than that. Little by little we've started to see how, even though they enjoy it, they seek each other out more during those encounters. Maybe they just want each other, but continue with them because it's a force of habit and a job that needs doing. Is Lucy waiting for Tommy to say that's enough now, do you think? Because she really doesn't seem into it.

Looking around, a beat of panic tightened in his throat at no sight of her distinctive crimson hair. His heart started to pound hard in his chest. No. No, no, no, no…he’d just left her there for a second. Ahh Tommy 😭. They way he panicked when he couldn't see her, and how he had to control himself from falling apart when she turned up😩. He's absolutely petrified of losing her again, even for the tiniest of seconds.

Another edition to their family 🥰! I love how Tommy was pouty about it first but quickly caved in when he saw how much Lucy had already fell in love with the little kitten. He's a big softie really! And that line about how he had knocked someone up, so she should be able to keep that cat, got a giggle from me 😂.

Urghhhh it hurts 😭! I know Ruby is an innocent baby in this mess, but my heart still dropped when I was reading about Lucy's struggle seeing Tommy with Lizzie and their little family she doesn't feel a part of Fuck sake Tommy, your pull out method is weak 😬! Look at the heartache you've caused 😩.

She followed Tommy and Lizzie down the stairs, lingering back to let them both go first, walking side by side with their baby while she trailed behind them; alone. Fuck sake...this chapter is really starting to stir my emotions for poor Lucy 😭. I always knew it was gonna be hard to read her seeing Tommy doting on his daughter with Lizzie by his side. I just wish there was something Tommy could do to show her that she's stil his number one girl. But I still understand how his time has now been split between Lucy and Charlie and Lizzie and Ruby. But I have hope that things will get easier for this blended family as Ruby grows up ❤️.

What a fantastic chapter to finish of this part of your story! Off to next part 😍.

Part 21: The Shadow of the Abattoir

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x OC

Summary: Tommy's ambitions take them to new heights, but not without consequences looming on the horizon.

Word Count: 4,005

Notes: I originally considered including some more detailed aspects--even potentially a full chapter--detailing Lizzie's pregnancy and Ruby's birth, but I have tokophobia, and just wasn't comfortable going into that much detail regarding that topic. So apologies to anyone who wanted to see more of that. And I promise that the Lizzie drama is only just beginning, and will be a big part of the next couple parts, so please consider checking those out once they're posted if you're interested in seeing a continuation of that aspect of the story.

Also, I just want to give a huge thank you to everyone who has read this story. This is to date the biggest single fic I have ever written, and the support you have given me means so much. I promise to have more featuring Tommy and Lucy out very soon!

Warnings for depictions of insecurity, sexual content, PTSD, and references to torture and pregnancy. Bit of a bittersweet ending here, so sorry about that!

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Chapter 29: Shake Hands with the Devil

Returning to work had been the right idea.

Already, Lucy was starting to feel better, work helping to drive the dark thoughts that had been plaguing her lately to the back of her mind. They were still there, but they weren’t nearly as loud as they once were. 

Tommy’s new plan required a good amount of logistics and organizing, both of which she was eager to take on. And another action, one somewhat less desirable, but just as necessary. 

She was surprised at just how easy it was to get Jessie to give up the name of the leader of the cell. All it took was a kiss from Tommy and a declaration that he wanted to help her cause to have information already spilling from her lips. 

But then again, Tommy always seemed to have that effect on women. And Jessie, despite how she may have presented herself, was desperate for connection.

“You alright?” Tommy asked, after Jessie had left the office with the promise that they’d meet up later.

“I feel a little bad for what we’re doing to her,” Lucy sighed, leaning back into him while his hands rested on her upper arms, chin settling on the top of her head.

“If you really don’t want to go through with it, we can figure something else out–”

“No, it’s fine.” She turned around in his arms to face him, resting her head on his chest, leaning into the warmth of his body. 

It was a shitty thing, what they were doing to Jessie. But fucking her was necessary to ensure her loyalty until the election was done. And to maintain the steady stream of information she could provide them about the communists–at least, that’s what Lucy was going to keep telling herself in order to be able to sleep at night. 

“Just…” she worried on her bottom lip, feeling Tommy’s hand settle protectively on the back of her head. “Promise me that you won’t come in her.” She didn’t need to specify as to why, feeling him tense a little against her of the reminder of Lizzie and her approaching due date. 

“I promise.”

She cleared her throat awkwardly. “We really should talk about what you want to do about Lizzie.”

“What do you mean?”

She hesitated, unsure as to how she could properly broach the subject to him, feeling a tear begin to cleave its way through her heart in response to what she was about to suggest. Even as she forced the words to come out. 

“You should marry her.”

Tommy jerked back, staring at her with a furrowed brow, frown pulling his lips downwards. “What?”

“You can’t be unmarried with an illegitimate child if you want to move into politics, Tommy.” Knowing him, winning the position of MP was just the beginning. He had big things ahead of him. “You have to project the right kind of image. And if you want to be able to be involved in any sort of significant way with the baby…”

“But I love you,” he said softly. “If I’m going to marry anyone–”

“It needs to be the mother of your child,” Lucy finished for him stubbornly. He shot her a wounded look. 

“I don’t want to marry her.”

We don’t always get what we want, she thought, but bit her tongue. If things had been different, maybe it could have been her that he would marry. But they weren’t. 

“And besides, what about you?” he pressed.

“I think that I’m a small price to pay for the betterment of your child’s life and your career.”

The hurt in his eyes deepened. “Well I don’t!”

“Tommy…”

“We’re not talking about this,” his jaw twitched unhappily as he shook his head, turning towards his desk.

“Sweetheart, please…”

“I’m not giving you up.” That stubborn sharpness entered his eyes, jaw setting, and she knew that she would get nowhere with him on the subject. At least not yet. He’d have to see with his own eyes that she was right before he budged on it. 

She sighed. The last thing that she wanted to do at the moment was fight with him. “Alright.”

They did not speak of the matter again. Though it lingered in the air between them like a ghost. 

∗ ∗ ∗

They laid side by side in the narrow bed, Tommy in the middle with Lucy on one side of him, Jessie on the other. He was thumbing at his brow with one hand, staring up at the ceiling while Jessie slipped out from under the sheets to go get dressed. Lucy watched her lazily, shifting to tuck herself more closely into Tommy’s side. His arm dropped to wrap around her shoulders, fingers tracing over her back. She shifted nearer to him, suddenly needing the closeness.

“You okay?” Tommy whispered to her in the dark. When she didn’t respond right away, his voice grew a little strained with worry. “Lucy?”

“‘M okay,” she said, nestling her head more firmly on his chest, eyes still watching Jessie carefully. They could not talk while she was in the room with them. At least not really. 

She ached pleasantly between her legs from having him buried inside her but only a few moments ago. And while the pleasure from the orgasm he’d given her was still rushing through her veins, she was coming down from it rapidly, crashing back to earth in an unpleasant plunge. 

It would appear that Lizzie’s pregnancy had more or less killed a lot of the enjoyment that threesomes once held for her. She’d felt an unfamiliar surge of anxiety as they’d taken Jessie to bed, the kind that sex normally helped to dull. But this time the tumultuous, overwhelming feelings only seemed to grow as she watched Tommy fuck their new lover. Even though he’d kept his promise and not emptied himself inside of Jessie, the threat of yet another unintended accident from their liaison had set her so on edge that she found it almost impossible to fully lose herself even in Tommy’s familiar kisses and touches.

She was pretty sure that he was able to sense her nervousness, but whether he was able to guess the actual reason, or thought that she was just anxious because this was the first threesome they’d had since what had happened with Luca, she wasn’t sure. Either way, despite Jessie being the primary focus of the evening, he was being notably attentive towards her, eyes constantly darting over to check on her throughout, warm mouth seeking out her skin in attempts to pull her out of her own head. 

He was looking at her that same way now, a slight crease forming between his brows. Lucy offered him a weak smile that only caused the look of concern to deepen, his other arm joining the first in wrapping around her so that he was hugging her tightly. Lucy squeezed him back, closing her eyes and burying her face in his chest. As if by doing so she could somehow hide away from the entire world. 

∗ ∗ ∗

Tommy left his meeting with Arthur Bigge in high spirits. It had taken some convincing, but all his conditions had been met. Everything was going according to plan. 

Well, not everything. Lucy was still worrying him. She was doing considerably better than she had been during their holiday, but she still wasn’t wholly herself. 

She used to smile and laugh so easily. Even at the absolute worst of his jokes, or with the smallest little bit of teasing, and he could have her giggling, trying to shield it behind one of her hands even as her mossy green eyes lit up, entire face crinkling with mirth.

But nowadays, a melancholic aura had draped over her, seeming to cling to her skin, casting a film of sorrow over her eyes. Of course Tommy did not expect her to go back to the way that things were before Luca. But it killed him to see her so despondent and broken. 

He missed hearing her laugh. 

What he would give to make it all better for her. To pull the sadness out of her eyes. Take it into himself, if he had to. Just so long as she didn’t have to carry it anymore. 

She was still having nightmares and the occasional panic attack, as was to be expected. He had been worried originally that all the work that came along with preparing for the election would cause her too much stress. Especially with how fragile she still was. But if anything the work seemed to help, so he let her be. 

But her comments about how he should marry Lizzie had struck a nerve in him, planting a seed of dread in his chest. He had always assumed if he were to ever marry again after Grace, it would be to Lucy. No one else. Especially not Lizzie.              

He had meant what he’d said. He wasn’t letting her go. He’d rather burn his reputation and even the entire bloody company to the ground before he even considered something like that. But his Lucy seemed incapable of understanding that, and he was beginning to grow more and more worried that no matter how much he tried to reassure her, she was doubting her place at his side.

When he first brought up the idea of running for MP, she had asked him what was to become of her position as his assistant after he took office. The question had taken him aback. It had seemed so obvious to him that she would come with him. He’d hardly given it any real thought. Wherever he went, so did she. That was how things had always been, and he had no intention of changing them. Her worries seemed only somewhat abated when he smiled and coyly told her that MPs still needed assistants. It wasn’t long before she was fretting over the possibility of rumors spreading regarding their relationship and tarnishing his reputation. 

As if his reputation was not already drenched in blood and mud. 

He’d just grinned and kissed her temple, trying to appear relaxed and unbothered by any of it. Hoping that if he did, it would help to soothe her. 

“Most politicians are sleeping with their secretaries, love. We won’t exactly be unique in that regard,” he’d told her. It seemed to have calmed her concerns enough. At least for the moment. 

Adjusting the grip on his briefcase, he pushed out of the door and stepped into the crisp fresh air. Glancing around, he frowned when he didn’t spot Lucy on the bench where he’d left her before going in for the meeting. Bigge had wanted to meet with just him alone, and while Tommy had been inclined to kick up a fuss about it until he let Lucy accompany him, she’d insisted that he shouldn’t risk irritating Bigge just so she could be in the room while they struck their deal. 

He hadn’t been particularly happy about it, but ultimately he had to admit that she had a point. 

Looking around, a beat of panic tightened in his throat at no sight of her distinctive crimson hair. His heart started to pound hard in his chest. No. No, no, no, no…he’d just left her there for a second, she’d been armed, there were dozens of people around, surely she couldn’t have been just snapped up right off the street…

His head swiveled around, scanning the people passing by him. Maybe he’d just missed her. She was so short, it wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility that he’d just lost her in the crowd of people.

He was just beginning to properly panic when he heard his voice at his elbow. 

“How did it go?”

He whirled, eyes wide, chest still heaving with the startings of his panic attack, to find her standing there none the worse for wear, black coat pulled in tight around her.

Relief hit him like a blast to the face, and it took all his self control not to seize her in his arms and squeeze her tight to him. Instead he just let out a deep breath, shoulders relaxing. His eyes closed as he steadied himself, taking the time to remind himself that she was there and she was fine.

He opened his eyes again to find her still looking up at him, head cocked curiously. “Where were you?” he demanded, tone perhaps a bit sharper than he’d intended. 

“I got bored, so I went for a walk.”

“Oh.”

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s just…you weren’t here and I…” he huffed. “It’s alright. C’mon,” he indicated with his head towards the car that he’d parked on the edge of the curb. He held open the door for her, then slipped in after she’d gotten settled in the passenger seat. Setting his briefcase down and closing the door behind him, he turned to look at her. There was an odd bulge in the front of her coat. His eyes narrowed. The bulge twitched. “What’s that?”

Lucy clutched her coat tighter to her body, blinking up at him innocently. “What’s what?”

“What’s wrong with your coat?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Her coat meowed. Tommy raised an eyebrow. Lucy pouted, letting the garment fall open to reveal a tiny little black and orange tortoiseshell kitten hidden underneath, blinking up at him with scrutinizing green eyes. 

“What the bloody hell is that?”

Lucy stroked the little animal’s head. “It’s a kitten, Tommy. Surely you’ve heard of them before.”

He rolled his eyes. “I know what a kitten is, Lucy. What’s it doing tucked in your coat?”

“I heard her crying in the alley behind the bench I was sitting at. And when I went to look, she was soaking wet and shivering all alone in this little box. I couldn’t just leave her there.”

“The fuck are we going to do with a stray kitten, Luce?”

She shrugged. “We can keep her at the house. She could help with the mice problem.”

“We don’t have a mice problem.”

“And now that we have a cat, we never will.”

He eyed the kitten warily, still feeling like she was sharply analyzing him. Her little tail flicked back and forth, paws kneading at Lucy’s thighs. When Lucy scratched at the top of her head, she angled her face up, and batted at her playfully with one soft paw. Lucy giggled. 

Tommy looked up sharply at the sound, biting the inside of his cheek to try to maintain his serious facade even as he felt himself soften at the sight of her smiling down at the cat. 

“And you immediately assumed that I’d be alright with this?” he asked, the amusement obvious in his voice.

“You don’t have much of a choice.” Lucy flashed him a grin before her attention returned to the kitten, who’d curled up into a ball on her lap. Tommy raised an eyebrow, fond smile threatening to break containment as it tugged on the edges of his lips. 

“No?”

Lucy looked up at him, a challenge entering her eyes. “You knocked someone else up.”

He opened his mouth to respond, then closed it. “You know what–that’s fair.”

She snickered, leaning forward to peck his cheek to let him know that there was no real bite to her words. Tugging off one of his gloves, he held his hand out to the cat. She sniffed at his knuckles, whiskers twitching with consideration, and then rubbed her cheek against his hand. 

“She likes you.”

“Mm.” He gave her a few scratches under the chin, begrudgingly admitting to himself that the kitten was pretty fucking cute. And Lucy was right; the least he could do was let her keep the cat. “We’ll have to get her checked out by the vet before we take her home.” 

“Of course. Who knows what she might’ve gotten into living on the streets. Poor baby.”

Tommy let his hand stroke over the kitten’s back. She was so little, he could probably have fit her in one palm when she was all curled up. He felt a slight buzz under his hand as she started purring. He could feel Lucy watching them both fondly. 

“So it went well?”

“Hm?”

“The meeting with Bigge. Did it go alright?”

He smiled at her softly. “Yes; it went alright.” 

Her face lit up, leaning into him. “Good.”

He turned his face to catch her lips with his, kissing her gently in celebration.

Between them, the kitten meowed. 

∗ ∗ ∗

“Don’t you dare.”

Lucy grinned to herself as she approached Tommy’s office, hearing his voice even before she pushed open the heavy wooden door. She was greeted with the sight of the kitten perched on his desk, her little paw batting his box of matches closer and closer to the edge, her head cocked with intrigue. 

Her green eyes peered over at him, holding his gaze, and promptly batted the box onto the floor. Tommy sighed, reaching across to scoop the little monster up and plop her down onto his lap. “You’re gonna be a little troublemaker, aren’t you?” But he was smiling to himself, a dimple appearing in his cheek when the kitten meowed in agreement. 

Lucy smiled as she stepped fully into the office, walking over to set down a fresh stack of papers onto his desk. “Need you to sign these.” She collapsed back into a chair across from him as he plucked up a pen. 

Her hand raised to rest against the side of her face as she watched him. With every passing day, the election drew nearer, and with it, her anxiety grew. 

She’d been keeping an ear to the ground, regarding anything that might hinder him winning. But so far, with all the careful bribing and other methods of rigging that they’d implemented holding strong, it seemed like it would be an easy path to victory.

But there were some rumblings regarding Lizzie and the pregnancy that had started to spread. Lucy was pretty sure that they could keep them suppressed at least until the election was over. But not indefinitely.

It was going to become a problem.

She supposed it was almost funny, in a way. How being unmarried with an illegitimate child was likely to cause more harm to his reputation than being a notorious gangster. 

They needed to address it. Figure out what they were going to do. And the longer that they took, the more damage the whole situation was likely to cause. 

The kitten jumped into her lap, curling up with a soft purr. Lucy let her hand stroke mindlessly through her black and orange fur.   

“Tommy?”

He looked up at her through the glinting lenses of his glasses, eyebrow raised, papers still clutched between his fingers. 

“Yes?”

She’d been reluctant to bring up the subject ever since he so thoroughly shut her down the last time over it. But if she was being truly honest with herself, that wasn’t the only reason why she’d so willingly let it go.

She didn’t want him to marry Lizzie. And she sure as hell did not want to let him go. 

We’ve still got some time. We don’t need to do anything about it yet.

She swallowed hard, feeling like the worst, most selfish scum on the earth, even as she forced a wobbly smile on her face. 

“Never mind.”

∗ ∗ ∗

Time passed at seemingly the speed of light. And before she knew it, she was standing next to Tommy, the rest of the family–except for Lizzie who had to wait outside with the baby–crowded around him. They were all waiting with baited breath as the results of the election were announced over the loudspeaker. Lucy could feel her guts twisting nauseatingly inside her with nerves, heart leaping into her throat. 

It had been an insane handful of months, and they’d all seemingly passed within the blink of an eye. She didn’t even know where all the time had gone. 

Not long before the election took place, Lizzie gave birth to a baby girl, already bestowed the name Ruby by Polly before her arrival into the world.  

And oh, did Tommy love that little girl. 

It was heartwarming to see him fall so deeply in love with her, and every moment spent watching him with her made Lucy’s heart jump. 

But God, did it also hurt.

She kept her melancholy and jealousy over the gorgeous little family he now had with Lizzie tucked down deep and away, where no one would ever find it. Ruby was a sweet baby, and she deserved nothing but good things in life. And Lucy did love her. Enough that she was more than prepared to walk away forever if she had to in order to give that girl a chance at growing up with a proper family around her. 

She knew it made Tommy sad, to not be able to see her all the time. Ruby and Lizzie still lived at the home Tommy had bought for them, and while he visited when he could, he still did not get to see his daughter as often as he would if she lived at Arrow House. 

They still had not had the conversation about what to do regarding that situation long-term. She’d tried to bring up the idea of him and Lizzie getting married again a handful of times, especially after Ruby’s birth, but Tommy still wouldn’t hear of it. 

A part of her was worried that, despite the promising polls, his personal life would hinder his victory. And it would all be her fault. Because she had been selfish and decided to try to hold onto him, even though the selfless thing–the responsible thing–would have been to let him go so he could build a proper personal life to go along with his new ambitions. 

A huge breath of relief left her when his name was announced over the loudspeaker, a wide smile quickly replacing the look of apprehension that had been there a moment prior. She hugged Tommy back tightly in celebration when he engulfed her in his arms, briefly forgetting that she was trying to behave more distantly towards him in public. Like a mere colleague rather than a lover. To try to save his reputation before the rumor mill fully caught wind of their affair and ran with it. 

“I now declare Thomas Shelby to be the new Labor Member of Parliament for the constituency of Birmingham South,” the announcer boomed for all to hear. Not just in the room that they were all crowded in to hear the results, but across the entire bloody country. 

Cheers erupted, everyone in the family swarming around him, all smiles and uninhibited joy. They soon made their way to the doors, out to where Lizzie was waiting with Ruby clutched in her arms. Tommy beamed as he scooped Ruby up, lifting her high above his head, the baby squealing and giggling in delight. Lucy smiled at the display and the baby’s happy coos as her father adjusted her to rest on his hip and carry her with him down the rest of the stairs. But her smile quickly fell when she spotted Lizzie flashing a truly snide smirk at Jessie where she was standing in the crowd. A tendril of trepidation coiled itself around her, wondering if she would be on the receiving end of such a look sooner or later. Lizzie had been behaving decently towards her as of late, but she was not fool enough to expect that to last.

She followed Tommy and Lizzie down the stairs, lingering back to let them both go first, walking side by side with their baby while she trailed behind them; alone. 

And despite their current string of good fortune, of endless possibilities and new doors opening up before them, she found herself struggling to muster up any real hope for the future. 

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[kumatm]

Tumble should also know that I’ve got a girlfriend and I love her very much

[arcadia345]

❃Astrology observations❃

Masterlist

Not a real astrologer just my observations:)

❃ Aquarius moon femmes tend to be more masculine/tomboyish whether it be their personality or fashion sense they prefer loose fitting clothes. They have this nonchalantness/offstandish energy about them, they also are very sensitive and receptive to energies around them esp after one on one interactions but surprisingly do very well w online interactions💀they could feel like their personality shines brighter online than irl

❃ 12th ruler in 7th natal partners could have animosity towards you esp if you prefer men they tend to have secret intentions/lives

❃ Sagittarius in your natal chart is where you tell the best stories, and gemini can show where others ask for advice/tell their best stories to you(and lowkey try to impress you)

♐︎ in 1st -you ARE the story, there’s never a dull moment ,so many memories are made w you, many stories where you had to be reminded that your that GIRL/GUY✨ (esp by your guides)

♐︎ in 8th- they articulate their trauma very well, the ones that talk openly about their abuse, lots of near-death stories, surgery stories that they almost didn’t make it out of, thieving stories

♐︎ in 11th- the type to bring their friends into every situation/story, most likely to do the best story time vids online, their stories can be eye opening for the collective, people love when they predict the future, stories about the future/goals of humanity, evolution stories, stories about you gaining independence(just like 1st)

♐︎ in 12th- they love to hear about your dreams and conspiracies, they love when you talk about your insecurities and spill your own secrets, your paranormal experiences and things about past lives

♊︎ in 2nd- they love to tell you how hard they work for their assets, “You know I haven’t told anyone this but I feel like I can trust you.” They don’t mind telling you about their illegal activities, people have a tendency to think you took something from them, they come to you for advice on how to approach situations

♊︎ in 5th- the type to have kids come up to them and all their parents business (4th house also), the best childhood memory stories, people try to impress you w their sex stories , they come to you for advice on sex and love matters also, asking for your opinion w fashion & aesthetics, you make them want to try new things🥵

❃ Taurus in the 3rd/4th find it hard to leave their family/home

Cancer risings (4°16°28°) their face and body fluctuate through life but their faces tend to get rounder/fuller as they age

❃ Sending love out to Venus in Pisces/12th house natals y’all are what fairytales are made of🥺 just being in your presence is healing even tho they feel sometimes their deepness and devotion isn’t reciprocated at times idk who needed to hear this but your loving energy transcends the physical barriers you could do a lot of energy work on the other side w/o even realizing it esp while sleeping🧡

❃ I feel bad for Chloe because w that Gemini mars baby everybody always gonna think you doing too much😭 unti you don’t do enough & they’ll still be mad

Finding out Lil uzi has a Gemini mars sent me💀 it reminds of them vids of their security guard trying to keep up w them while they jump all over the place🕺🏽

❃ Sag moon children mom was in her hoe phase when u were conceived. Partying/traveling/drinking/learning was prominent for her at the time

Venus in natal can show you why others envy you

♀ in 2nd- they envy how consistently you upkeep yourself, they see how much money you put into yourself to look good, they hate how materially abundant you are, how easily you make money from your talents/assets, they envy your sugar daddy/baby energy

♀ in 4th- they envy how abundant your family/ancestry is, they envy your mom/your motherly skills, how easily you make a house feel like home, how rich your inner world is, your decoration sense, how easily you’ll be remembered after passing/leaving home, how easily you make money from home

♀ in 8th- they envy how easily others trust you esp w their money & possessions, how beautifully you shed your skin in transformations, sugarbaby placement, how magnetic you are, how easily people become obsessed w you, your way of love making/showing love/spoiling others or vise versa

♀ in 12th- a lot of people don’t even realize that they envy you/ subconsciously send you evil eye, you provoke their hidden desires(this place def has lots of people in their circle wishing on their downfall) they envy how content you are with yourself /and how you’ve healed yourself , your music taste

I feel like prominent Pisces placements tend to lose their teeth more often than Capricorns, could also have dreams of teeth falling out/rotting

❃ Prominent Virgo in natal stay cleaning up other people’s 💩💀 like literally tho at some point in your life you’ve had to be some type of caretaker ie. animals, elderly, babies. But 💩 is more prominent/consistent in your life

But if ur a pet owner or caretaker in general you know that a lot of times the only way they can communicate what’s going on w their body Is through their bowel movements so it’s a blessing and a curse cuz it’s not like your obsessed with 💩 (unless👀) but you kinda have to be😭

Aphrodite in Gemini/3rd house natals have contagiously attractive laughs/smiles, delicate hand and arm movements, and beautiful hands and lips

❃ Every time I have prominent 8th synastry esp moon/mars we always have 🩸 sex eventually 🧍🏽‍♀️ they be feigning so bad for you that they can’t wait a few more days they need it now! But they always end up saying you put a spell on them like no bro u willingly put a spell on YOURSELF💀

❃ 7th house mercury could attract or prefer younger/pettie people or they are seen as such, also prone to have partners w prominent anxiety

❃ Eros/mars in Aries/cancer/scorpio in composite charts shows lots of crying during sex but for different reasons

Aries cries because ur f*cking/sucking them so good all they can do is take it like a champ and cry happy tears 🥲

Cancer cries because you truly touched their soul🥺 they never thought sex could be this satisfying and comforting at the same time (healing sex like Pisces)

With scorpio it’s kinda a mixture of both w sprinkles of trauma bonding✨

❃ Venus in 8th synastry- adoring eachothers beauty marks esp the house person @ Venus , the house person usually adores the Venus’s insecurities/stuff about themselves that they never picked up on which gives the Venus person a new prospective of their beauty

❃ Mercury synastry can tell you how you were first introduced/heard of each other

☿ in 8th- meeting while/before going through a transformational/traumatic period in your life, you could have problems w people owing you money or vise versa, catalyst for spiritual & sexual growth, meeting before/after having a major surgery

☿ in 9th- meeting through college/highschool,being introduced to/by a different ethnicity friend,meeting while traveling esp abroad, catalyst in spiritual journey, meeting through religious community

☿ in 4th- I have this w my mom while her ☿ is in my 1st so you could also share this w your parents, w cancer and Aries basically representing the womb her PUMPUM told her about me😂obvi she had no other choice but to learn about me I was coming weather she liked it or not😎 so w 1st house synastry I feel like they were kinda forced onto you they’re pretty hard to miss🥴with 4th her aunts/women in her family told her she was gonna have another baby before she even knew🤷🏽‍♀️

❃ Jupiter in 1st synastry -even the most stubborn person would hear planet person out w this placement 😏 Jupiter boost house persons ego/outlook on life, planet person just makes everything look good & exciting in house person eyes

❃ Pluto in 11th natal- unfriending someone could really feel like a divorce lmao telling people your not friends anymore and they react so crazy like “NO I NEVER WOULDVE THOUGHT💔💔💔” then splittng up your assets (friends/aspirations)

❃ Gemini Venus-girl next door vibe people watch through your window esp w some Pluto energy on your Venus, the song ‘She by Tyler the creator’ was made about us fr😭

❃ Taurus (2°14°26°)moons people think that they own you or that you’re some object they can use anytime they want whether it be your body or your possessions

Also having a Taurus moon could play out as feeling like you didn’t get the support that you needed in ur childhood, the type to have moms that say “I put clothes on your back, food on your plate, and a pillow to lay your head and you’re telling me I didn’t do enough for you??😠😤” like sorry I needed emotional support and understanding as a child that you couldn’t give me🥲 the mom could see the child as spoiled/ungrateful esp with harsh aspects on the moon, but they could also just feel like they have a right to your possessions esp if you live in the same house what is privacy?😀

❃ 6th house synastry is big on planning together,the type to count down the days till they get to see e/o 🥰

Now offering aura & synastry readings

That’s it for now, have a blessed day ✨

[pretentious-blonde]

meet the parents

pairing: steve harrington x reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He doesn’t respond, keeping his eyes forward. 

She has no idea.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That’s my girl, my smart girl.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Absolutely not. No fucking way. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We could, you know.”

You blinked at his proposition. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

[seonghrtz]

𝑛ew 𝑠cenario. 𐙚 両面宿儺 ( streamer!au ) fluff 849 words + warnings. occ sukuna | sukuna helps you set up a new scenario for your streams.

As Sukuna opened the door to your apartment, he felt a wave of comfort sweep over his chest. He secretly (maybe not so secretly) loved it when you invited him over ⸻ not that he needed an invitation to visit you. Spending time with you, in the comfort of your apartment (which was more like an extension of yours), was all Sukuna needed to feel the tension in his muscles melt away and a good feeling rise in his chest.

Still at the entrance, he took off his sneakers, put on the Kuromi slippers you had bought especially for him, and left his backpack and coat on the rack.

But any peace he felt was gone when he heard a scream from the back of the apartment.

With hurried steps, Sukuna reached the bedroom and was surprised to see so many boxes scattered around the room and you sitting in the middle of the mess.

"What the hell happened here?" he asked, getting your attention.

"‘Kuna! You arrived at just the right moment." You got up from the floor and went to hug your boyfriend, who returned the hug without a second thought. "I was trying to tidy up the new room, but I slipped," you laughed, embarrassed at how clumsy you were, and the boy just stared at you, getting drunk on every feature of your face.

And then a light appeared in the back of Sukuna's mind. You had recently told Sukuna that you wanted to change the location of your streams. You wanted to move your computer out of your bedroom and use the empty room in your apartment.

"Why didn't you call me? I could have helped you move things around." He said, looking at the mess in the room.

"You were at work, 'Kuna." You replied, "But since you're here, you could help me, couldn't you?"

"Just tell me what you need." Sukuna held your face and kissed your lips.

You smiled excitedly and hugged Sukuna once more before starting to tell him what to do.

While Sukuna was busy putting a shelf on the wall (following the sketch you had made of how you wanted the room to look) and then a perforated panel, you were trying to understand the instructions on how to assemble the bookshelf you had bought to put your stuffed animals, DVDs, and books in to decorate the room.

"Sweetheart, why don't you finish arranging your stuffed animals and decorations and let me do the rest?" Sukuna walked up to you, grabbed you by the waist, and took the manual from your hand.

"It's not fair; you get to do all the hard work!"

"Let me do it for you, huh?" He reached for your lips and stole a kiss.

"All right..." You sighed in defeat, "Are you already done?" You asked in surprise as you looked at the shelf on the wall, the perforated panel hanging, and the table set up in the exact position you had placed it on the sketch.

Sukuna just smiled sideways and stole another kiss before starting to read the instructions on how to assemble the bookshelf.

Meanwhile, you took the opportunity to sweep the room and clean the newly installed desk and shelf. Carefully, you set up your ultrawide monitor, keyboard, and mouse, a DSLR camera on a tripod above the monitor, and your pink microphone on an articulated arm. On the small shelf above the desk, you placed a heart-shaped clock and a picture frame containing a photo of you and Sukuna, and placed a My Melody stuffed animal between the clock and the picture frame. On the perforated panel hanging on the wall next to it, you placed your headphones and hung some Polaroids for decoration.

When it got dark, Sukuna had already finished assembling the bookshelf, and you started decorating it, putting up some stuffed animals, CDs, DVDs, books, etc.

"Do you think I should buy a big puff to put here?" You asked as soon as you'd finished decorating.

"It's easier to buy a two-seater sofa."

"I think I'll make a list of things to buy to decorate the room; I think it's still a bit empty." You looked around. "I think a cabinet would be nice too, to store my Xbox and PS."

"We'll think about it later. I think I deserve a reward now, don't you?" He pulled you by your waist.

"Reward?" You tilted your head to the side in doubt.

"Uh huh," he murmured in affirmation as he moved his face closer to yours, brushing his lips gently against yours. "Maybe watch a movie," he suggested.

"I don't know; the last time you suggested it, we didn't finish the movie."

"As far as I remember, you didn't complain," Sukuna smiled mischievously.

"'KUNA!" You said it in a suppressed tone, making your boyfriend just laugh at your reaction.

"I promise we'll just watch the movie this time." He kissed you calmly.

"You don't seem to have any intention of keeping that promise…" You murmured against his lips, and Sukuna smiled, confirming your words.

"Maybe…”

© seonghrtz, 2024. all rights reserved, please do not copy / steal / translate / modify any of my works !

[darkdemeter]

・issue #1・ KNOW YOUR RHYTHM

⚤ Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Dance choreo! Female Reader Mafia related topics — some profanity — mention of blood and violence and stuff — mob boss Bucky who just thirsts for reader HARD — bit a spice and flirting — I think that's it? ✎ 5.6k He is the king of crime, the one mob boss nobody wants to mess with. Funny how you end up here, hired as a dance choreographer for his new club. It was meant to be a simple paycheck, nothing more. But Bucky Barnes, the big bad mafia boss, wants you.

↳ MASTERLIST | ↳ TAGLISTS ────────────────────────

 You’re too stubborn to retire the rhythm and hang up those dancing shoes. No, you fight for what’s yours, that’s how you were brought up, and you committed so much to lead this life to escape another that loomed over with a darkened destiny. 

  Even then you had your limits. Though it seems those limits would be tested as of today. A promise that undoubtedly falls in the blurring of lines. 

  “The Crimson Star Nightclub,” you say with a click of your tongue that audibly pops on the other end of the call. “In… that territory of New York.” 

  You swear you can feel her grimace of regret through the phone.

  “I know, I know! I’m sorry, I just— I told him that you’d just be perfect for the job.” Your friend and student wasn’t pleading herself a forgivable case here, you scowl outwardly as you toss your bag atop the nearby railing, sifting through its contents for a moment.

  “I taught you everything I know, babes, why’re you struggling?”

  She’s silent for a minute before she groans, “I just don’t have what it takes to teach, like you do. You’ve got the drive for it! C’mon, he’s willing to pay triple your usual rates. Besides… I’m kinda scared he’ll kill, gut and dump my body over a bridge if you don’t come.”

  That last point shakes you more than you’d like but you quickly dismiss the arrival of dread that falls on your shoulders. You grapple your wallet from your bag and begin to hail a taxi, a gloved hand raised high, the familiar fluorescent yellow swerving to a stop at the curb with a screeching frictional drag of its tires. “What’s the address?”

  She’s smiling, you just know it as she rains down a thousand thank you’s, her heels clapping loudly in the background. 

  Pulling up to the joint made your stomach turn over a hundred times. Exiting the cab, your heeled boot scrubs against the pavement with a leathery rumble as you take in the building. A big establishment from its outward appearance. Peeling off the cover of your sunglasses, you study the freshly reinstated brickwork absolved of any form of gang graffiti. A havenous roofing overheads the entrance where guests would line up in wait with complimenting stanchions. 

  Atop the two – or maybe three story – building is the unlit title, Crimson Star Lounge and Nightclub, and the most flattering of all: a giant red star with a blackened silhouette of what you believe to be either a nude or lingerie clad woman sat within on an invisible seat of some kind. 

  With a hum, you bet a personal wager against yourself that the neon sign’s simple display would articulate the upper leg that hangs over her other to kick up as she arches herself back, accentuating her body more.

  You cannot help but chuckle to yourself. Oh, you’re definitely in for a treat you shouldn’t have let yourself be lured in by. 

  You walk up to the entrance where a large hulk of a man stands idle, his long, blonde hair tied back and out of his face, his browline shifts awkwardly to frown at you behind a thick layer of facial hair. Gruffly, with a low baritone, he speaks. “Club’s not open yet, sweetheart, and we’re full on resumes. Come back in a few months.”

  With a fashionable tilt of your head, a smirk presses into the corner of your lips as you grin.   “Oh, I know you’re not. The star girl doesn’t have her legs spread open for business.”

  From the ease that follows his features with a bashful grin to boot, you continue, “A girl named Tam is inside? She called me, asked me to come and meet the big boss man for a potential dance choreographer job.”

  He grins a pearly smile at you. “A woman with your attitude, he’s gonna have no choice but to give you the job. Right this way, Miss.”

  He steps aside and gestures with a muscular arm for you to continue in and with a curt nod of your head, you stalk down the dimly lit hall until you reach the wide expanse of the club.   An elevated platform is guarded by a railing of dark steel to oversee the ground level, the second floor is cut off some feet away from the T shaped stage. Along the back wall that’s closer to your right shelters a pristine, obsidian marble counter with a set of modernised saloon doors behind, leading off into what you assume to be a backbar. 

  It appears that the second floor acts as some sort of VIP section with the barely visible wall of booths pinning into the wall in an orderly fashion, a few booths decorating the first floor and located closer to the bar, the remaining space reserved for the dance floor and tables. 

  Already you begin to piece together the potential air and radiance the club is looking to create, but it helps your workload when asking whoever is in charge what it is they’re trying to achieve. 

  The brighter, overhead lights blare down to make life and work in the dark a tad more tolerable, so employees shuffling around, going about their duties, many don’t spare so much as a third glance your way much to your relief. The last thing you need is anyone recognising you from your prior glory days. 

  Falling into a slow crawl of a stride as you explore your new surroundings, your potential new work space, a voice is sudden to drawl over the glassy rim of an auburn-hued shiver on the tongue, ice swaying with a chorus of clinks. “Club’s closed, sweet—”

  “Alright, I can’t make the same comment twice. I’ve got a thing about repeating myself.”

  That comeback rings as a shocker through the atmosphere. Turning himself to press his side into the counter, glass in hand, you take in the numerous glimmers of gold adorning his fingers, one of which tells of who exactly this man was. What he was.

His chin dips down to peer over the tint of his glasses. “Sharp. I like it. What’d you want?”

  You take a step forward, head craning to look around you before you turn back to the man, plucking your gloves off your hands to discard them into your bag. “Sightseeing clubs that aren’t open,” you scoff, “I’m looking for the boss of the joint. Tam’s voucher.”

  His shoulders rise and roll back, most likely sensing the cutting way you get right to it through your charade of jest. He flashes you a grin. “You’re funny. Tony Stark, pleasure to meet you.”

  He extends his hand forward and you reach to shake it, your throat scratchy and dry from even looking at the ring on his pinky and its embossed insignia. Tucking his hand away into the pocket of his dress pants, he cocks his head awry. “The boss is kinda in a meeting right now.”

  Your lashes flutter in a flurry, eyes rolling skyward into your skull with an exasperated sigh. 

“Do you guys get off to wasting a girl’s time? Honestly, that’s what makes it harder to please us in this day and age.” 

  “I have my ways.” 

  His voice is a fine contour, rich and smooth, you cannot help the chill from running up your spine. Your heel pivots and your body follows, hands situated on your hips as your chin tilts up and up to meet the fiercest pair of winter blue eyes you’ve ever seen. A layer of dark stubble hides little of the smirk plastered on his pink, soft lips as he leans, arms straight and pressed to the railing until his muscles beneath his flex and the veins in his rough hands budge. 

  ���Are you the big boss I’ve heard so much about?”

  His cheeks flex under the weight of his thinned smile and nods. “The one and only, dollface.”

  Shaking yourself from momentary stun, you face to realise that the club’s owner was the top mob boss of New York himself. Of course Tam had to bury you six feet in this mess. It had been bad enough that the establishment itself resided in mob territory. Now, as it turns out, the mob king himself owns the place. And your possible contract and paycheck. 

  How fucking fitting. 

  “Right so… what’s the big idea? Tam said something about you needing a choreo instructor.”

  You almost find the way his lips pull to reveal a row of pearly teeth endearing. Almost. You dare not forget who you’re talking with. 

  “Yes, she said you’d be coming.” You don’t miss the way his words care to articulate the words, their enunciation versed with a seductive purr. You scoff at the comment that fails to filter his lewd mind. Still, he has one hell of a smile that can surely make any woman swoon.

Though you don't very much care to be one of those women. You much prefer to stay very much away from that. From him.

  “She told me you were her dance teacher and that you’re the best of the best. Showed me a few demo tapes of your work.”

  You give a simple shrug of your shoulders to ease the flush that rises in your blood. “And?”

  He moves like a wolf on the prowl and maybe because he very much is. Your eyes watch him with careful calculation, the way the bulk of his body swaggers down from his throne on high to meet you on the bottom level. 

  “I’d like to take her word for it and take you on,” he rumbles lowly. 

  His eyes rake up and down your body slowly, undoubtedly sizing you up like a meal. The waft of his cologne is powerful, a stern odour of expensive luxuries only affordable by his wallet. It overpowers your sense of smell like some love spell that you find half a mind to tilt your axis away from his reach; now beginning to worry that those illustrious women draped on his arm in printed magazines and articles may have been victims to a fling they were entrapped by. 

  You have to keep your posture strong and sure to recover from that relapse, however, given that your action may be interpreted as weakness. These men thrive and feed off weakness. He extends a hand forward. “Bucky Barnes. But I get the feeling you already knew that.”

  “That obvious, huh?”

  Nevertheless, you take his hand and shake it, reluctantly giving him yours in return. He tastes it for the first time and, by the way his tongue runs below the risen quirk of his lip, revealing his incisor, enjoys the way it rolls off. 

  You walk with him as he shows you around the club and accommodates you with the knowledge of how he wants this little business joint to succeed in its intended market. You meet the girls who would be under your charge, your attitude taking a noticeable shift from its standoffish tone to one much lighter, friendlier in terms of interacting with the dancers. 

  Returning back to the main stage and dismissing the girls off, Bucky turns to you, broadly puffed out from chest to shoulders that the suit strains slightly against the expanse of muscle. 

  “Right, I’ll need to browse around for a hirable studio and give you the info to give the dancers,” you note first and foremost, running your hand over your mouth, your demeanour now lessened and eased into one more befitting of contemplation. Bucky can see and even admire the spark of dedication to the job in your eyes.

  “Can you pull it off?” 

  You gasp, a tad and touch higher in your defence than you should have let on. But ultimately, you meet the dark, playful challenge in his raised brow and wicked smirk. 

  “Outstandingly so for the interesting logo for the club.”

  “Ooh,” he winces behind pursed lips, “tell me what you really think.”

  Tongue unsheathing from your cheek, you turn to face him, stepping forward one step and then another, standing barely chest to chest with him. The fog of his cologne is a whirlwind intending to knock you loose of your inhibitions. You thinly smile through it. “Well, it certainly follows the saying.”

  His brows move higher to his forehead, almost cocky that you don’t fall into betraying yourself and believing he means anything sincere as he asks coolly, “what saying would that be?”

  And quickly you answer, “sex — or the appeal of it — sells.”

  His face leans in closer until his lips hover over yours some inches away, invading the presence of personal space, uncaring to the way your body goes rigid; caught in fight or flight mode, knowing damn well between the two of you that you’re stuck and fucked by either response. “And just how much do you sell for, I wonder.”

  His words are soft, low and oh-so laced to be seductive. The striking allure of those blues moving to take in every aspect of your features as if to engrain them into his memory. 

 Just before he can ever dream of letting his lips close in any more, you take initiative and move back, flaunting a huff that eases his ego down, his features faltering visibly right before your eyes. 

  “I’ll send you an invoice tonight, Mr Barnes…” Your words inspire hope within him as he slowly grins, only to fall. “But don’t excite yourself. I don’t mix business with pleasure.” 

 You send yourself off in the direction of the exit with a measured wave, but his words leave with you and have your stomach in a strange flutter. 

 “You sure? Because I see potentially a lot of pleasure in this contract.”

THREE MONTHS LATER

  It’s cruel to watch you, knowing that this is your last rehearsal with the girls. After this, the doors will promise an opening night to remember. But if you’ve given any hints, you don’t exactly intend on seeing it. 

  And for Bucky, that is just plain torture for him. Over the past three months, you have been working your pretty arse off creating a whole show routine, expertly weaving the backbone of the club’s entertainment and allocating the playlist to fit the atmosphere Bucky and his club managers wanted. 

  Lounging in the VIP section, the raised loft that oversaw the club’s dance floor, stage and regulars bar, Bucky still cannot take his eyes off of you. Why of all nights did you have to go racing off to another job so soon? He had paid you generously, far more than any hired choreographer could ever dream of, and yet that still didn’t seem enough to convince you. He hovers like a shadow, leaning to the dark steel railing, his ring-lined fingers drum against the dark steel as he contemplates his next move. 

  He barely pays any mind to his captains who take their place in the sleek, refined office that are the booths, sipping at their drinks and chatting about the club’s interests and rates. Shit that he tunes out. He can’t focus on anything when you move like that, your body arching this way and that; sinful and cause for impossible. But you prove him wrong. There are many positions he’s fantasised taking you in mid rehearsal. And once, when it was just the two of you in the club during a routine practice, he almost had the chance. But it – you – slipped right through his fingers.

  Your body is pulled into the music itself. A process many seem to struggle with, but for you, it’s as easy as breathing. At first, it’d been a gamble of who to hire for the job, now Bucky cannot dream of regretting choosing you. Renowned as a star dancer, you’re credited with awards from around the globe, in solos, duos and exceeding the numbers. Competition after competition, your name became well known. Your prodigy, dear little Tammy, had been a resourceful source that he later forwarded onto his boys, ordering them to dig up more information about you. 

  A nasty red line was found in your record, as Bucky had his men find, and though the exact details are still unknown to him, it’s given him an indicator that something hit rock bottom. Some time afterwards, however, you resurfaced as a dance choreographer. 

  And if you were still the best of the best, then he’d take you for the job. But now, he wants you for good. Dressed to the nines in outfits he’s spent on all his cards, riding to events together and having the envy of every man and woman’s eyes upon you. Hell, he’s already contemplated the venue and diamond ring. All he needs now is that chance you refute at every turn.

  “Chins forward, eyes open,” you call in correction, gaze set straight ahead of you in the midst of a spinning twirl before planting your heeled stiletto hard into the stage floor with a resounding boom. 

  Bucky’s eyes trail then upwards, the dark colour of your pantyhose hiding your skin that he’s desperate to bruise and leave his fingerprints on. His fingers curl harshly into the railing while his eyes continue to admire while simultaneously undress you, your body hugged in a very form-admiring bodysuit. 

  Dropping down low with the girls following suit, your hips move on beat with the music, grinding into the floor. That, of all moves, is when you make the grave mistake in glancing up at a striking pair of blue eyes, dark in their passionate longing and so bright you’re quick to force your eyes away. 

  But not before you flashed him a toothy smile. A smile that kills him every time. Heat rushes through your veins and rises higher into the surface of your skin, in your core it feels electric with pulsating need, but you carry on with the routine, to save face from what Bucky Barnes did to you. Unbeknownst to you at this moment of what you did to the mob boss, he groans at the tightness surrounding his clothed cock as you rock your hips back and forth, suggestive in your choreographed manner. But so dismissive in how it affects him greatly and his ability to conduct business. 

  No. You can’t let yourself fall into that sort of mess again. Focus. Rolling onto your back, your back arches so beautifully off the floor, it almost has Bucky gasping. The pointed pink of his tongue’s tip darts out to wet his lips. 

  Completely and utterly mesmerised by your rhythm, he growls like a feral animal when Steve’s voice interjects his still continuing list of how he plans to ruin you and save you.

  Now at the end of your routine, you wave for Torres to cut the music and your shoulders fall heavily with an exerted sigh.

  “Good work, girls,” you applaud with your friendly smile, clapping for their efforts. The girls in turn repay your praise with bashful smiles and compliments of your mentorship. 

  You had this way with people, and especially those under your study, you were kind and playful but remained an air of professionalism to ensure your students or your time wasn’t wasted. 

  Bucky feels his skin crawl and his heart drop a thousand yards into his stomach. From the lavish watch strapped to his wrist, he inspects the time. End of rehearsal. End of your contract with him. 

  “Well, they learnt from the best.” Your head turns fast, vision momentarily blurred, there again is that feeling - that spell - he has you under as he saunters down the stairs and towards the stage where you stood, hands pressed idly into your hips. 

  His tongue runs over his teeth, groaning inwardly as his eyes sink and rise in study of your entire form. He could see you being his queen. You’ve a powerful stance, that much he can see, and you possess a quality that has the attention of anyone and everyone on you. A commanding presence. 

  “You’re too kind, Mr. Barnes.” Your cheeks redden more. Praise from your clients always makes your heart flutter with adoration and joy. For them to express their gratitude in the ways they do, it’s good to know you have succeeded in your job. 

  But when Bucky praises you, you become a giddy girl that gushes and yearns to hear more. He sees the way your face shifts to reflect that professionalism, all to hide the reality of what he does to you; what he could do to you if you just gave him the chance. 

  “I could be much kinder, doll.” His voice has lowered into a velvety purr, the callous massage of his fingers shoot a blaze of electricity through the thin fabric of your pantyhose and into your skin like ice, a simple touch over your calf, teasing you further as his palm encloses around you as well, sliding up and down gently. Despite your position above him, a sight he’ll never grow tired off, his up-tilted chin reaches level just below your stomach. Right at the apex of something dangerous. He sees the inner turmoil of conflict flash in your eyes, a battle he’s sure he can win if he plays his cards just right. 

  “VIP access tonight to start?”

  You scoff, shaking your head. But the furrow in your brows betrays your true, raw disappointment. You can’t hide it. Not from him. “I can’t. I have an early flight tomorrow.”

  And just like that, you refuse him yet again. His bottom lip rolls in and over his teeth, tongue pushing hard against the thickened fold of intruding skin in his internal flare of anger, eyes darkening with a single promise he cannot keep; because he can’t have you to make it. You attempt to step back only for his hand to curl tighter around your ankle, keeping you in place.

  “Make an exception this one time for me.”

  Your eyebrows crease between the middle, a frown tugging your lips into an unamused sneer as you tug at your leg that Bucky refuses to let go. 

  “Mr. Barnes, this is extremely unprofessional—”

  “Your contract has expired. We can be as unprofessional as we want. No consequences. No regrets.” He coats his words heavily with a honey of seduction. One that is awfully tempting… one you must deny. 

  You swear this man would kiss the ground you walk upon if you asked him to. Would paint and drown the streets red with blood if you wished it. And that’s what frightens you. Beneath those adoring pools of blue hide a darkness to a world you seek escape from, therein his eyes hides the nature of a killer who’s not only dangerous to those who cross him because of who he is as a man; but also dangerous because of you. 

  You know that love — and lust — are a powerful motivator to a man. It can and will make him do anything. The impossible, the reckless and the most horrid of things. 

  No matter how softly he pleads, you must not say yes…

  His head tilts ever so slightly to the side, streaking locks of dark brown fall loosely to frame over his brow, highlighting an innocence that isn’t there. You pull your leg away again and he allows you to leave him though with the exception of those eyes faltering from yours. Like a kicked puppy.

  “I’ll come tonight. We’ll need to talk about my payment before I leave.”

  There it is, that bright spark in his ocean hues again, a grin pulls his lips wide that battling a smile of your own causing your lips to quiver is half won. Hopping down from the stage his eyes follow after you, watching you gather your belongings, your sights meet one another and he nods to you.

  “See you tonight, beautiful.”

  Scoffing with a shake of your head, this time that smile graces your lips wholly and Bucky feels the air in his lungs flatline. What he would give, who he would kill to see that smile forever on your face. 

  “Right. Tonight. See you then, Mr. Barnes.”

  How you say his name in a manner of such proprietary has him a certain way, but what often has him throbbing and hard is the thought of you moaning his name, skin hot in a sweaty flush pressed to his as he has you on the verge of climactic euphoria and promising that you will be his, that you will never leave his side. He’s left only to his imagination of how you would sound, how you would feel around his hard and thick cock, in his strong and passionate grip that would never let you go — let you falter. 

  He wants you so badly it’s driving him insane. 

  Bucky takes the time to admire your form that currently flees for now, but soon enough he guarantees otherwise, paying particular attention to the wondrous body of your arse right before you pull your coat over your shoulders. 

  He pulls out his phone from his suit pocket and with a few minor taps of his thumb, he holds it to his ear, the receiver on high alert to his order.

  “Get her ticket reimbursed and have the jet on standby, just in case.”

  If you had known he’d send a car to pick you up, you’d have thought twice on a decision you should have said no to at the very beginning. From your seat, you eye the neon title and star, indeed the female figure doing just as you thought. A provocative display to allure its target audience. Right on command, Sam arrives, strutting out from the main doors to your door and pulls it open for your exit. The once dark tinted window shielding you from the envious stares of those stuck to line up on the velvety carpet. 

  “Looking good, princess. C’mon in, Bucky’s waiting for ya.”

  “Thanks, Sam.” 

Sam’s allegiances may have set prejudice to keep you from trusting him or any of the other boys under Bucky’s command, but he was kind and attentive to you the more he saw you around his boss and the club premises. 

  You do well to keep your eyes forward and your focus straight, ignoring the few whispers of a gaggle of women clad in colourful, sparkling cocktail dresses, dolled up faces contorted into spiteful sneers as Thor granted you unrestrained access much to the shagrin of the female pack whining and complaining. 

  You weren’t here for the explicit pleasures that they were after on the inside. You’re strictly here to see what it was you accomplished, hoping that these business partners of Bucky will be entertained by the routine and show you poured hours of soul and heart into, then collect your paycheck and leave. That’s it. 

  Sam commands to part the crowd ahead of you, allowing you a clear path and direction up the stairs to the upper floor, smirking and ushering you off when you press him with a sceptical raise of your brow. But at his insistence that you don’t fall into the same category as the guests, you head on up, climbing each milestone with a heeled step that draws you possibly closer to the very man who you cannot seem to get away from. 

  Atop the stairs and rounding along the railside, you press your stomach to, overseeing the crowd below, streaks of red lights beaming from the rafters above to illuminate the dark, sensual aura of the club, the music a thriving beat as the dancers on stage perform their routine. 

  Life on the stage… there are days where you miss it. With a drag of a sigh parting your lips, you straighten a little from having leant on the railing a little during the show. Your body bristles instantly as something large and warm presses into your back, almost nuzzling the diamond cut out of skin, his long arms coming into view to cage you between him and the cold steel, his hands rest over your own. 

  “Glad to see you made it,” he hums deeply against the curve of your ear, nose gentle to nuzzle against your neck. “My business partners love the show, they’ve been asking for you.”

 “Trying to drum up business for me, Mr Barnes?” you muse with a pout, voice offering a sickly sweet mockery of appreciation only for him to snort and direct you towards the booths where several men sat within a cloud of cigar smoke and breath of pure alcohol.

  “Gentlemen, this is the woman I was telling you about.” He introduces you and your hand traverses into numerous exchanges of hand shakes as you greet each of them.

  “Have to say, little lady, your vision for performance is immaculate,” a man of rounder physique appraises with a grin, half burnt cigar jammed between two fat digits and his dark brown eyes sparkling with hopeful aspiration for your future. 

  “Pray tell that Bucky will allow us to perhaps offer you a longer term contract?” His question ends with the butt of his cigar popped into the o of his mouth and huffing.

  It hits you like a freight train going a hundred miles an hour, your jaw unhinges only to clamp shut, bouncing between the motion as you tend to this new revelation. “I–I uh…” Eyes glancing to Bucky who stands at your side, chest puffed out with a smirk twisted into his lips, he cocks his brows at you. 

   “A kind offer but I have another job already lined up in Chicago. It’ll conflict too much, I’m afraid.”

  The men hum and sigh in their disappointment but offer you wishes, the man then plucks a card from a silver plate box and slides it towards you. “Of course. I admire your commitment to prior contracts. But don’t hesitate to call us if you change your mind. Mr. Barnes here has put in a good word for you.”

  “Oh, has he?” You draw the words slowly with care, but the hint of suspicion has Bucky’s eyes pinned to yours for a moment until he looks to the men, bidding them to excuse him a moment as he takes to lead you away from their table. 

  Once in the private hallway that leads to Bucky’s office, your words choke behind a scoff, “What the hell was that all about? I– I told you, I have a flight to catch tomorrow and– Bucky this is too much, even for someone like you, to give to someone like me.”

  He leads you to the door and opens it, beckoning you to enter before shutting the door promptly behind you both. All you can do is watch the broad span of his back as he struts over to his desk, merely gesturing a hand for you to sit. 

  “Doll, check your bank account.” 

  The way his voice maintains a firm timbre almost spawns concern to spur you to run out that office and never look back, but you do as he says, checking your bank account. Your eyes blink widely. 

  “My ticket! Bucky you—”

  “You deserve better than living in some slum studio apartment, living to survive on paycheck to paycheck,” he rasps hoarsely as if the words and very idea of your situation leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, he continues, “A forty-five grand monthly salary to start, upgraded living in a penthouse and a licensed studio all of your own and signed to your name.”

  A poisonous drought covers your tongue and coats your throat, your eyes peer down at the white card, font pristinely spaced and organised, minimally professional. Bucky faces you now after having realise that you didn’t sit down upon his request – or what you assume order. Your eyes then raise to glower at him, narrowing sharply. 

  “And your agenda behind this?”

  Can you trust the way his brows relax, bending to curve in a manner of sympathy as he reaches you, chest to chest and his calloused palms come to hold your jaw between them, nursing in his hand the one thing he desires above all else. 

  His head bows lower until his lips graze over yours, causing your breath to hold and you feel the form of his lips curl into a small grin and with a hum he connects the kiss. At first he is gentle to test the waters until he is consumed by that fire, heat ensuing to take hold of the kiss, he groans lowly like a ravenous animal. 

  Your stomach turns into knots and your thighs push together when the threat of arousal pools between them, a gasp teetering on your voice, your own lips meeting his as your hands manoeuvre over the curvature of his muscles that tense beneath you. The kiss grows hotter, heat forces its way to burn in your lungs like embers and ash searing the fabric of your soul that when you pull apart, your chest expands to brush against his as you breathe deeply. 

  “Be my girl, doll. Be m—”

  You cut him off with the delicate pillar of your index finger as he intends to sweep in for another kiss. You know for sure that if you allowed him, you would agree to his terms. 

  That cannot happen. 

  You pull yourself away from him until your distance pits your back against the office door, hands lingering on the knob and twist. His  hands that once held the apex of your hips flush to his body fall to clench at his sides. You still choose to refuse him yet again.  “Sorry, Barnes… but mama always told me, papa always warned me, don’t hang around with boys like you.”

THANKS FOR READING!

✎ a note from the author, Seeing the responses on the original post was really cool and I’m glad to finally put this simple brain concoction of mine into a fully written fic.

on this issue's taglist, we've got: @mostlymarvelgirl @hollyseb @sebastianstansqueen @openup-yourmind @kandis-mom @calwitch @cjand10 @identity2212 @ashdoctor @missmarvelophilic @boobsbeesbongos @blackhawkfanatic

[jujutsusimp]

jjk talking yn through it 🙈

🔞 Edging and sex phone with Toji

Thanks Anon from the kinktober prompt. I don't know if it's what you had in mind but I hope you enjoys it <3

Content: smut 🔞, fem reader, edging, masturbation, dirty talk.

You were panting heavily, gripping the phone in one hand, eyes half closed, half in pleasure, half in desperation, your other hand diligently teasing your nipples, caressing, twisting, pinching the hard bud under your shirt.

"Toji" you groan with rising impatience, your legs rubbing together looking for those little sparks of pleasure you were craving. “You are not being fair.”

“Am I now? You sure you want to complain right now, babygirl?" he retorts, not trying to hide how deeply he was enjoying the situation.

You groan again, he had a point, you were not in a position to make demand, all you could do right now was sweet talk him. “Pleaseeee”, you mewl with your most submissive voice, the one who never failed to make him hard. “Please let me touch my clit, I have been so good” you insist, still rubbing desperately your thighs together, spreading the dampness of your panties on your skin.

“Hmmm, that’s more like it... but I don’t know... I was really enjoying that dream, you know” he says, voluntarily dragging the words. He was loving every second of your heavy, bothered breath. 

You roll your eyes knowing he couldn’t see you being insolent, you already apologized so many times for forgetting about the timezone and waking him up at 3 AM because you were horny. How long was he going to make you pay for this with his little twisted game? Why were you even playing along? He wouldn’t know if you slipped a finger between your legs right now to soothe the ache that was building for a while now.

“Please, I’m sorry, I was missing you so much..." you whine with your sweetest voice despite your rising frustration, apologizing once more.

“I’m gone for two days, and you’re already missing my big dick so much, huh?”, he chuckles with a hint of pride, your cunt clenching at his dirty words. He knew exactly what he was doing to you.

“Alright go ahead then, touch that needy clit, but over your panties”

You whimper in relief as your free hand finally lets go of your nipple and slips between your legs, stroking at your erect clit through the damp cloth with a new moan of pleasure.

“Stop biting your lip” he commands with a stern voice, and you immediately relax your jaw, wondering for a second if he could actually see you or if he was just so used to fucking you he could tell from the way you moaned. Either way, you were too busy rubbing your soaked pussy to care more than a couple of second about his unexpected talent, letting the sweet groans flow freely from your swollen lips as you close your eyes, hearing his own breathing speed up.

“Faster” he instructs with a passionate voice, losing a bit of the stern edge he was using so far to talk you through it.

“Yes Sir”, you whimper obediently as you gladly speed up your wrist movements, pressing more firmly to feel your finger better despite your messy panties presence. The inconvenience was not enough to stop you from feeling raw pleasure spreading down your core, your sex clenching more and more often while your breath grows sharper and your moans more high pitched.

“Stop.” Toji breathes, and you don’t. Not for a couple of seconds, too enthralled in your own bliss to process his words before your hand reluctantly still with a grunt of despair.

“Why?!” you whine, feeling so frustrated while your clit throbs angrily from the sudden lack of attention. You were so close. So fucking close.

“Because you don’t get to cum before me today, beautiful” he adds with a shaky voice, and your eyes widen as you recognize the fleshy sound of his hands jerking himself off, making your mouth instantly more dry as you picture the scene.

“Panties off” he says, his tone now hot and bothered, going straight to your core, articulating more difficultly “I want to hear... How fucking wet... you are for me.”

You don’t even protest, pulling out your drench underwear just enough to free your cunt, and plunge two fingers in effortlessly from how wet you are. During a second, you are torn between keeping the phone to your ear to hear his heavy grunt of pleasure or bring it lower to give him a better sample of the lewd, sloppy sounds your digits were making at each thrust. Ultimately you lower the phone, whimpering at how good your hand felt on your frustrated clit when you were rubbing the palm on it while your fingers were playing a symphony of lustful squelching sounds.

“Toji...”, you whine, feeling the pleasure rising again, making your eyelashes flutter.

“You are so fucking hot baby girl, keep going” he instructs, the sound of his hands on his cock getting more hurried. You bite your lip again, breathing deeply the pleasure and need growing imperative.

“Toji…”, you repeat more urgently between your moans, your sex clenching so deliciously around your fingers you were accelerating despite yourself.

“Hold it off, I am almost here”, he pants. It was more a plea than a command, and you whine, letting your head fall back on the pillow with a frustrated sigh while you force yourself to slow down your thrust to edge your needy cunt, mewling desperately at the sensation. Your hand grips the phone harder to anchor yourself, which cuts the sound off for a second before you hastily lower your strength and bring it closer to your ear once more.

“Toji, please…”

Your begging is rewarded by a heavy guttural “fuck” and several groans from the other side of the phone, making your whole body jolt in arousal as you clearly picture his throbbing cock covering his hand in thick sperm and the way he keeps stroking lazily after to drag his orgasm a bit longer like he always does. Your own hand goes faster now, rubbing hastily as you raise your hips and arch your back for the best angle to feel the palm on your clit, closing your eyes to hear the last instruction of the night

“Cum for me”

[bambi-slxt]

🤍𝐍𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦🤍

𝕔𝕙𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕡𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕤𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕠𝕝𝕠 𝕩 𝕗𝕖𝕞!𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

word count: 1.9k

genre/tropes: romance, friends to lovers

summary: dating is hard, but maybe what i was looking for was easier than breathing...

warnings: none <3 pure fluff

notes from bambi: i tried a new format, what do we think? no usage of y/n, lowercase intentional, just a cutesy chris fic

busy?

nah wsp

can i come over

yeah fs, thought you said you were busy tn?

i'll explain when i get there 😵‍💫

see u soon kid 

-x-

“hey.” i let my bag sink onto the floor and threw myself across chris’s bed. 

“bro what, get off me!”

i grinned into his now-rumpled comforter. “make me.”

he snorted and yanked the covers out from under me, sending my legs flying. giggling, i stretched out over the far corner of his mattress. “thanks for letting me come over.”

“no problem. what's goin’ on?” chris had already halfway shut his laptop screen, giving me his attention. the soft pants i had bought him for christmas hung loose around his legs, one of which was pulled up at the knee. in lieu of a shirt, the towel from his shower lay draped over his shoulders. chris’s hair, dark from the water he refused to blow-dry out, stuck to his forehead in a very unflattering pattern. i tried to tell myself that, anyway.

“i was supposed to go on a date tonight,” i answered, staring at the ceiling. covered in those glow in the dark stars and planets people used to buy for their kids, it reminded me of the day chris begged for help putting them up. 

“what happened?” he asked quietly. his brows were set in a line measured by confusion and annoyance at the possible explanations.

“i got scared and ghosted him.”

“again?”

“i know.”

“you gotta quit that. these guys don't deserve it.”

“...i know.”

“why'd you get scared?” chris asked, putting his arms behind his head.

“because what if he wants me for sex and nothing else? what if he says he wants a relationship and pays the bill and opens the door for me and takes me home and tells me we don't have to do anything if i'm not comfortable and then of course we do something because i can't fucking help myself and then he got what he wanted and never speaks to me again?” 

i realized then, that i was shouting in my head and nothing had come out. chris still looked at me expectantly, his head tilted. 

“you look like a puppy,” i told him, grinning. 

“what the fuck,” he said, shaking out and shoving back the hair that threatened to encroach upon his vision.

“i got scared because…” i sighed, not entirely sure how to articulate my thoughts in a way he would understand. “Because how would i know if any of it was real?”

“that's why i don't fuck with love, like, that romantic shit,” he offered helpfully.

i glared. “thank you, christopher.”

“using my full legal name is insane.”

“you deserved it.”

“whatever bro.” chris paused. “i feel like there's something else.”

“how do you mean?”

“something else bothering you.”

“it probably has something to do with my self-confidence,” i said. “sometimes i think i deserve…everything, and sometimes i think the opposite.”

chris’s chest rose and fell with a sigh. this wasn't the first time we’d discussed the matter.

i looked over at him and his eyes met mine. i did this occasionally, the staring. it was a way to connect without speaking, which was often difficult around him. chris broke first, after a few short but comforting seconds, dipping his head to the side and gesturing me over to sit next to him. as i scooted my way over, he opened up his laptop again.

“new merch?” i asked. 

“yeah,” he murmured. “you wanna help design it?”

i took the device from him, amid quiet protests of death and torture, and began to very gently give my two cents.

“no one likes yellow chris. don't make any more yellow stuff ever again in your life.”

“I LIKE YELLOW??”

“too bad.”

we compromised on black with yellow accented font. he's such a baby sometimes.

-x-

i stayed for hours. chris let me make a shirt design, we put a show on in the background, and when i commandeered his laptop to play music, he got up to clean his room.

a few clothes on the floor does not a mess make, but chris hated things being out of place. something as small as a sock left unattended would poke the back of his brain all day. 

sometimes he would mutter things under his breath, talking to himself or singing.

“an i got all the drugs in the world that you need…”

“hold this.” (he tossed a shirt at me)

holding up a pair of sweats, chris asked, “...clean?” i shook my head. “matt’s room,” he decided, and took off up the stairs.

“you hungry?” he asked when he came back, hair disheveled.

i wrinkled my nose. “not for fast food.”

“you wanna make something?”

“god yes.”

chris laughed and pulled me off the bed. “let's go make something.”

-x-

we went up the stairs and upon hitting the landing, saw nick and madi pretzeled up together on the couch. “oh hey,” nick said, pausing whatever was on the tv. “didn't know you were here.”

“i thought you had a date,” madi said around a yawn.

chris seemed to sense the situation, or maybe he was just hungry, but whatever the case, he jumped in. “we're makin’ dinner,” he announced with a grin. 

“y’all still have pasta right?” i asked, making a beeline for the pantry and rifling through the shelves.

matt emerged from his cave, scrubbing his face with the back of his hands. “we should,” he grumbled, annoyed at the lack of sleep he was currently indulging in. 

“thank you. where.”

he nudged me over and produced a bag of angel hair noodles out of nowhere. “right in front of your face.”

“matthew…i'm gonna kill you,” i replied with zero emotion. 

he raised his eyebrows. “alright buddy. you makin’ enough for everybody?”

“don't see why not.” i turned my head and waved chris over. “we have water to boil.”

he saluted me and made his way into the kitchen, passing matt (making his way decidedly out of the kitchen).

“is the pot clean?”

“i think so.”

“can you get it?”

“yeah. you want the salt while i'm over here?”

“yes please.”

“tap water or filter water?”

i looked at him for a long moment. 

“i'm gonna get the filtered,” he said, snickering.

shaking my head with a smile, i let the stove heat up and stepped back so he could pour the water in. the muscle in his forearm tensed, offsetting the weight of the heavy filter. matt had turned the softer lights on, so gentle shadows lay over chris like a threadbare blanket. 

i stepped over and let my head rest on the side of his shoulder. his shirt smelled like him, he smelled like his bath soap and his cologne and the detergent matt used on his sheets, and his hair was dry and fluffy now because he hadn't brushed it and i could probably stay there forever-

“you okay?” he murmured.

“yeah.” backing off again, i slipped a smile on my face. “all good.”

“i think…it should be good,” chris said, scrunching his nose, fully concentrated on the precise water measurement.

i cut my eyes at him with mock concern. “it’s never that serious chris.”

“what if my pasta’s water content is important to me?”

“is it?” i put my hand on my hip, desperately fighting the smile that threatened to take over my features.

“...no. but what if it was?”

“i can't handle you anymore. when it boils will you put the noodles in?”

“noods,” he said in reply, as if that was in any way helpful or related.

“who's nudes?” Madi shot up from the couch, dark hair a mess. “your nudes??”

“no, not me, i-”

Nick’s face contorted in disgust. “someone sent you nudes?” 

“no no, it’s-”

“did you ask for them?” matt asked. having been seated closest to the kitchen and therefore fully aware of the context, he was just instigating. again.

i glared at the back of his head. “you're stupid.”

“that's not a no.” i could feel his shit-eating grin.

“who’s naked?” nick wailed, halfway off the couch.

“nobody! chris just-”

“so you didn't get nudes,” madi asked tentatively, still sleepy. 

i turned back to chris. “are you gonna help me at all?”

“who, me?”

rolling my eyes, i addressed the living room again. “listen, chris just shortened the word noodle, THAT’S IT.”

"oh. why didn't you just say that?" nick snarked.

madi had already burrowed into him for another nap. nick let their show play on, detangling her hair absentmindedly. i shook my head and smiled.

-x-

“i'm gonna go ahead and put the noodles in,” chris said, already breaking them.

“thanks. you wanna make sauce or use the stuff in the pantry?”

“ugh, what's in the pantry,” he said, “don't feel like making anything that intense.”

“mkay.” i pulled the door open and began to hunt. the sounds of the house washed over me - RuPaul’s Drag Race from the living room, chris stirring in the cracking noodles, and matt typing away on his laptop. i smiled again. this house, these people, their lives - it put me at ease. 

“‘scuse me…” chris said from behind me. i jumped as he drew out his words and stretched his hand around my shoulders to pull a spice off the rack. he felt me startle, he must have, because chris looked down at me with curiosity. “i scare ya?”

“only a little bit,” i said, lying through my teeth. he put his arms around me and enclosed me in a hug. “i'm glad you're here.”

my hands took hold of the forearms crossing my chest and i leaned back into him. “thanks.”

i felt his lips against my neck, pulling into a smile. “i'm always happy when you're here.”

the sugar-sweetness made my teeth ache, and i leaned forward. He let go easily, just like he did everything else in life, and spiced the noodly water on the stove with gusto, letting dark flecks fall to the floor. 

i love you.

he looked a mess with his hair unbrushed and his brows unkempt and his smile unguarded.

i love you.

chris, who always handled my heart with care.

i love you.

how many ways could he tell me he loved me before i believed him?

here goes nothing.

“chris?”

or perhaps everything.

“yes ma'am.”

JESUS FUCKING-

my ribs cracked, splintering bone shards into my thundering heart. i reached for his chin, letting my fingers fall atop his skin and ever so slightly pulling him toward me. when his eyes met mine i couldn't wait any longer. “do you love me?”

chris didn't miss a beat. “of course i do.” he pressed his cheek into my hand, his head tilted adorably. 

“no i…i mean like. for real.”

“come here.” he pulled me into a hug and i pressed my nose against his chest. “i've never been…afraid of it. love. with you.”

well that's good.

“of course i love you,” he said.

“...that's cool.”

a pause.

“really cool, in fact,” i continued. fucking tears. ruining my moment.

“are you crying?”

“no.” 

“liar.”

“yeah.”

“sad crying?”

“happy.”

“that's good.”

“mhm.”

“you want me to let go?” his arms didn't budge from me.

“don't you dare.”

“yes ma'am.”

“you're burning the pasta,” matt huffed. we jumped apart, faces tomato red. 

“yeah yeah you're so cute, i'm gonna be ill, puke gag retch, whatever,” he said, turning off the heat and moving the bubbling pot. “i'm hungry.”

nick and madi sat agape on the couch.

chris kissed my forehead, still grinning like a maniac. “wanna eat?”

i smiled. what is this, an epidemic? “yeah.”

“we can talk about it later okay?”

i smiled. “okay.”

-x-

ps: the noodles were delicious.

request to be on the taglist here

thank you for reading!

- bambi <3

[hwnglx]

for dear anon who requested ᰔ ᩚ

(to clear up misunderstandings, this is a reading on what in another person could turn the members on and off. i realized my wording might cause confusion, sorry about that)

stray kids' turn on's and turn off's

based on tarot. i do not know these idols personally. energies are always changing. what i say is NOT straight fact. pls take it with a grain of salt!

bang chan

turn on's > charming and eloquent (someone who's a very good speaker and communicator) > tactful and strategic -> isn't too overwhelming in their approach and acts carefully > unique looking -> stands out among other people > foreigners or people with a completely different background > knows the value of hard work > courageous and outspoken about things they believe in > has an immense amount of passion for something -> borders on obsession (he needs someone extremely invested in what they do, otherwise they wouldn't understand his lifestyle) > also, obsessed and clingy with him (he likes feeling needed and the thought of being the only person they see)

turn off's > way too selfish and greedy, no consideration for people in need of help > keeps being negative and dwelling on the past > lets go of things/people too easily -> gets discouraged fast > gets scared of the real world and escapes every challenge or obstacle in life > tactless communication -> says wrong thing at the wrong time, doesn't know how to articulate themselves smartly and adjust their words to the situation > takes everything personally and gets defensive fast

lee know

turn on's > laidback and calm energy > isn't extremely competitive and doesn't get greedy over useless things -> knows when to give in > ideally non-famous and ordinary people (he likes the thought of his partner providing him with some normalcy) > very observant and notices small details about you > knows when to let go and doesn't cling onto things (like someone who knows things come and go and is accepting towards the harsh realities of life) > isn't interested in gossiping, stays away from childish drama

turn off's > plays useless games with you (like playing hard to get) > is too delusional and unrealistic > keeps whining and crying over how awful their life is (lmao i can see him being taken aback and thinking “am i your babysitter”) > unreliable and doesn't keep their promise (someone who tells you they'll do one thing and end up doing another) > unwilling to acknowledge and work on their toxic habits (he just hates pretentious people who act all smug when they're not, he thinks it's very cringy because he can see through it)

changbin

turn on's > humble and grounded > a lot of potential and enthusiasm for something (he likes it when someone has motivation and goals, he wants to help them reach whatever they aspire to be) > has love for everyone and spreads kindness -> goes through life non-prejudiced (he likes pure people) > thinks and acts with and from their heart > considerate of people's needs -> doesn't put themselves above anyone and knows how to be happy for others > doesn't rush into things and approaches everything with patience (someone who thinks before acting) > responsible and takes care of the people they cherish

turn off's > lazy and doesn't set themselves up to any standards (just goes through life without any goals or ambition) > doesn't take life seriously, makes inappropriate jokes > is unnecessarily strict in how they treat others (he thinks why be hurtful if you can get the point across in a considerate manner) > doesn't know how to have empathy for people > very egocentric > moves on too quickly (it'll make him wonder like damn did i even mean anything to you if you're already over me)

hyunjin

turn on's > guarded, careful who they get close to (doesn't share their business with everyone) > deeply empathetic and caring nature, good listener (i can tell he finds beautiful and calming voices attractive) > fiercely loyal and committed to the people they love (he gets insecure about not being enough for his partners, so he needs the guarantee that you won't leave) > very determined and driven to fulfil their desires (is very eager and direct in their pursuit, he likes feeling like you're obsessed with him) > capable of carrying responsibilities and burdens on their shoulders -> doesn't get tired quickly, makes it look easy > helps him understand himself better (he wants someone who can make him feel confident & comfortable in his skin)

turn off's > doesn't understand the weight of deep connections -> gets close to many people (can make him feel like he isn't special) > hides and runs away from their emotions > holds endless grudges and never lets go of past occurrences > doesn't have an opinion of their own, just follows the crowd > keeps being dissatisfied, complaining and nagging at him (this would make him very self-conscious, he wants someone who's accepting of his imperfections) > dependent on others to help them -> doesn't know how to heal themselves and self-sabotages

(tbh, i can feel that hj wants someone who fills all his weak spots, because if he was with someone too similar to him, he feels like that'd be a recipe for disaster)

felix

turn on's > cheerful and full of energy, ability to light up the room > self assured and confident > very protective and willing to do anything to defend their loved ones (wants someone more direct and unafraid than him, he's too much of a people-pleaser) > carries a lot of inner wisdom and always has good advice > self-aware and reflective of their own actions and words > very different to him (whether that's in looks, personality, mindset. he gets intrigued) > a lot of inner strength and resilience -> doesn't falter easily > plus physical strength as well > puts plenty of thought into their relationships and feels the need to look after their loved ones, worries about him (he wants to feel safe and taken care of)

turn off's > doesn't care about boundaries and acts recklessly > bad manners > doesn't take care of their health and takes it for granted > always negative and drags others into their negativity > plays victim all the time and complains a lot (especially about others) > lacks drive and motivation in life > is too narrow-minded, traditional and conservative -> judgemental of minorities and people different to them > deliberately uses sharp and cruel words to hurt people and push their buttons or provoke them -> keeps starting conflicts > badmouths people too much

jisung

turn on's > has strong capacity for a deeply emotional bond (doesn't take relationships lightly and is emotionally involved) > pushes him to be a better version of himself > has a comforting and soothing effect on him -> makes him feel safe and understood > helps him acknowledge and work on his toxic habits (also loves him regardless of him not being perfect -> helps him accept himself the way he is) > very romantic and affectionate (compliments, words of affirmation!) > self-assured and headstrong -> doesn't get beat down easily (fire sign energy) > is tolerant and understanding of his circumstances and lifestyle (accepting the fact that relationships aren't that easy for him and dating him can come with certain struggles)

turn off's > is too possessive and clingy -> doesn't give him space > makes him feel incapable or inadequate (triggers his insecurities and his self-doubt) > acts like they're his parent (lol like someone who babys him too much and doesn't acknowledge he is a grown man) > gets too controlling and acts like they have a say in his life > is too strict and direct with him (he needs some sugarcoating sometimes) > too materialistic and focused on superficial matters (like looks, money, fame etc.) > is very hot and cold -> makes him believe one thing and then says something else, keeps him on his toes too much > is too conservative and stuck in the way they see things -> not open and understanding of different perspectives

seungmin

turn on's > knows exactly what they want in life and what to do to get it > independent and self-reliant (especially when women are very self-sufficient and in no need of anyone, he thinks it's admirable) > strongly stands by their belief or opinion and isn't fazed by external influences > very creative and passionate (especially musically, he likes it when people express themselves in an artistic manner) > trustworthy and committed to everything they do > can be their own boss and doesn't allow anyone to commend them around > elegant, well-mannered and polite

turn off's > keeps themselves trapped in their own delusions and refuses to open their eyes to reality > spoiled, takes precious things and people for granted > too attached and obsessed about materials or money -> doesn't know how to appreciate what they have (especially family, he definitely wants someone devoted to their home) > thinks they're levels above everyone and acts entitled > has something negative to say about everyone and is too judgemental > too antisocial and boring

jeongin

turn on's > free-spirited and fun to be around > has an optimistic outlook on life and doesn't always take it too seriously (i can tell he really likes someone with a great sense of humor who can make him laugh) > observant and curious about him as a person > makes him feel confident and special (a lot of compliments) > natural charisma and strong presence (main character energy, attracts gazes wherever they go) > but! okay with making themselves smaller and stepping back for him to shine and be the main character (lmao like telling him he's so much better than them etc.) > isn't afraid of arguments -> fearless and headstrong (he doesn't like scaredy cats)

turn off's > too prideful and ego-centric > overly serious and uptight all the time -> boring and doesn't know how to take a joke (like buzzkills, someone who keeps ruining the fun) > too focused on marriage and the longterm (he just wants someone to have fun with and see what comes out of it, he doesn't consider marriage right away) > surrenders and gives in too easily -> doesn't put up a fight > too obsessed about their own career and overly focused on remaining stable (cheap and boring people)

[bao3bei4]

ON THE TSHIRT METHOD TO WRITING ESSAYS IN YOUR OWN TIME: 

i have had a couple people mention to me that they would like to write essays too, but they are a little out of practice. so i thought i should gather some scattered thoughts into one place. this is not a systematic guide. i am young and inexperienced and still working out things for myself, but this is my basic process and some things that have helped me, summarized. 

my biggest single piece of advice is to write with your proverbial pussy. you are not writing for a grade so don't act like it. forget rigor, forget academic style, etc. read what you're interested in, and write following up on the threads that you're interested in. don’t sweat the details. just do you.

if you still need more advice..... here’s a long winded post. 

step zero: if you have no clue what you want to say yet 

read. and read a lot.

but be realistic. be kind to yourself. your attention is a precious resource, and it is getting eaten up by shit out of your control all the time. if you’ve had a busy day, you may still have the brain power left to read. i almost never do. lol. so make sure to carve out time on a day off, if possible. otherwise you might end up completely fried, reading the same sentence over and over, and ending up scrolling on your phone LMAO. <-- painful lesson also to this end, if you haven’t picked up a denser book in a while, start with shorter articles, especially ones written more recently. if your attention wanders, try getting a physical book instead. the most important thing is just starting things you’ll actually read.  i’ve seen a lot of people (and been that person) who was like. “oh i’m going to start with THE canonical text in a subject i’m interested in” which makes sense right? but that book is inevitably long and dense and convoluted and boring. you can come back to it later. this shouldn’t feel like a chore! 

genuinely this is the most helpful thing you can do is just. read anything. it may be difficult at first (or always), but it is still the easiest way to engage with the foremost experts from around the world and the entirety of written history on any subject you are interested in. there’s not really a substitute to this. 

note: you may say that people can and do come up with brilliant ideas independently of their access to written works. this is true! but if you are one of them, you should skip this section/post, because you already know what you want to say.  okay that was a little too facetious. let me revise: when i say that, without reading, it will be hard to come up with more complex ideas than what you have now, that isn’t necessarily pejorative. maybe your current ideas and impulses are original and meaningful and complex. if they aren’t, however, you don’t have to resign yourself to it.  your experiences in real life are the most valuable thing you can bring to the table, but it can be very difficult to articulate and contextualize them without community—whether that be irl, or the simple textual company of other writers. you can let other people help you and teach you.  basically, this is a long winded way of saying something extremely simple: reading is not the only way to gain knowledge, or even the best. but it is an extremely consistent and relatively egalitarian way.** **scihub and libgen and sometimes the public library are your friends. (my local library’s book coverage is spotty) who cares about piracy. LMAO. 

you may surprise yourself by how nicely you fall into little spirals. you read one thing. and you are enamored with the way the author approaches their subject. so you end up reading everything else they’ve written, and then you start on the authors they list that inspire them in their interviews. maybe you just read one article that’s a little dry but it cites something else that seems far more interesting. read that next. and so on. 

if you are struggling to read that’s okay. you have options. start a book club (or just get a friend who also wants to read more). if that sounds like too much work, pick a friend to keep updated on all your new facts. you just want to get used to reading something, and telling someone your favorite parts again. skim books. skip the boring parts. drop them entirely and find a more interesting one. no one’s going to quiz you. this is for your own enjoyment. 

also important here: read books that make you want to write. sometimes this is because the methods and/or prose of the author are so exciting, you want to do something just like that. sometimes it’s because the content is so exciting, you want to say something about that too. sometimes they speak so powerfully to your own life, you want to tell people this is me!! i see this!! there are books i just enjoy reading, sure, and i do read them. but you know how, like, a good movie makes you want to tell stories too? good theory should do that too, in my opinion. 

step one: you have some ideas now. 

these ideas don’t have to be set in stone. but you should have an idea now of what you might talk about. personally, for me, i have two interconnected types of essay ideas. 

interventions. this is like [tumblr voice] Why Is Nobody Talking About This. i see some sort of hole. maybe i know how to fill it, maybe i don’t. 

free associations. basically i read one thing, or some analysis of one thing. and then it reminded me of another thing. and i’m like. i want to tease apart their connections, their similarities, and their differences. 

there are more types of ideas, i’m sure. but these are the ones i consistently have. with me, the second kind is more common. very rarely do i find that my thoughts are that original. rather, i’ve found that one of my strengths as a writer is being able to make connections that other people haven’t made, or haven’t made in depth before. IN MY OPINION. 

so i find it quite flexible. maybe i watch a movie, and it reminds me of my own life, because i think two women in the movie could be sad queer freaks. and i’m a sad queer freak. or it could be that i think scum villain could be analyzed through the framework of freudian psychoanalysis. you get the idea. 

at this stage of the process, i don’t have a thesis, necessarily. but i have a couple phrases i’m drawn to. i have a bullet point or two. i have vibes. 

to use an example from this blog, one of my friends hui once mentioned that that one fan image was going around again. we were going ughhh it’s victorian not chinese! together and they said “you should write a meta on it.” i wasn’t sure quite yet what i had to say. but i knew a couple things. 

this is, incidentally, because i had done some research into chinoiserie before, because i had cited the zuroski book for a paper i had to write for an english class some years before on pride and prejudice and its use of descriptions of material culture, an essay that in turn was inspired by my random yet deeply felt conviction that jane austen hated me personally and wanted to kill me.  this is why i encourage reading a lot. i think. 

to work on this stage, make lists. lots of them. i have a .txt file where i keep every essay idea i have. a lot of them are a sentence. or they're lists of books or theorists i think i could make something out of. or they're theses that feel true, but i’m not sure why yet. 

it took me a while to get to this point. just like with writing fic, there was a period when i first started where i was like. i only have one idea. i’m going to write it, and then i’m never going to write again. and then i had just one more idea. after a while. eventually you will find you have so many ideas and the world is full of possibilities. it’s a muscle you have to flex. like reading. and telling people about what you’re reading. 

actually, i feel like there was a step 0.5 here that i completely skipped. 

step zero point five that i skipped: how to generate ideas

my very truly complete “first time writing something semi-academic that was original” (with a loose definition of the word original) was literally just me reading literary criticism of one book, and saying “i think this author’s thoughts can be applied to this other book” and found some textual evidence that supported that the process could be replicated. 

this is like, writing with training wheels on. eventually i got better at it (see aforementioned chinoiserie essay. i hope you agree.). but that was a good place to start for me. it made the proverbial blank page less intimidating, knowing i had a scaffolding. 

i suggest trying this. see how it goes for you. read around until you find some piece of criticism, or just some theory about how something works, that you like. and using your newfound hammer, go look for some nails. 

note: i know this expression is meant to like. be a negative thing. but you do have to start somewhere. it’s okay if it sucks. it’s just for your practice and your enjoyment. 

be cautious of stances. weak writing (in my OPINIONNNN) tries to unilaterally defend or condemn a behavior. what you need to do is treat your writing as a bit. and then you need to run with it. you need to take it farther than what is reasonable. if this bit is truly actually deeply true, then what does it mean about yourself? it’s like using a new set of pronouns as a joke or something. you know what i mean? (that was an example of what i’m trying to communicate here)

what else is key to look out for... look for oppositional pairs or tensions. look for perverse incentives and vicious circles. look for embarrassing ideas. that is, what would be extremely embarrassing if it was true? (or to admit that it was true) you may go—tshirt, here you’re just describing things that are sexy. yes, exactly, that’s the point. you want things that thrill. 

just keep reading and making notes until everything echoes with something else. now you’re ready for step two. 

step two: refine your ideas further. 

let me do this by demonstration. once more extending my earlier example of my chinoiserie essay, i knew that i really wanted to take zuroski’s points and basically... steal them. this is called “citation,” i guess. but i thought the following insights were useful to me: 

british women were invested in chinese material objects 

they incorporated them into their own subjectivity

past a certain point, they no longer “consumed” these signifiers, but these signifers became theirs 

critique of one was able to stand in for critique of the other

and from being on fandom twitter, i already had the following insights: 

people deliberately blurred the lines between china and england when it came to fans and tea

people also liked talking about victorian modesty when it came to china 

so it seemed like victorian england and china had a privileged relationship, in a lot of people’s minds in fandom. 

so it didn’t really seem a stretch to say... how can we look at one history, and apply it to our present? 

it was a bit of the combo of the two: i saw something i didn’t see people were talking about, and it reminded me of something else i’d read before. 

something that helps me a lot is tweeting about my essay ideas. if you have me on my private account, you already know this. it forces me to explain myself to someone who doesn’t know what i’m talking about in a very succinct way. oftentimes, i tweet something out while i’m brainstorming, and then i steal the phrasing back into my essay. see? tweets can be writing too. 

this is microdosing on step zero’s “read something and practice telling a friend about it.” now you’re writing something and telling a friend about it. 

step three: okay now you can like. open a google doc 

make an outline. i know i know i know. i’m sorry. you can start just barfing thoughts if you want, but eventually everything that was on the top of your head will be out. and now you can start thinking about structure. the reason the outline is important is because it makes clear the logical progression from one idea to the next. 

i know i usually bounce around in my writing (a tendency which has been magnified here because this is so casual LMAO), but i always want to make sure that my points are substantiated. if we want to talk about how a causes b, we should prove a, we should prove the causal link, and only then can we infer b, for instance. it doesn’t really matter what order that happens in (or even that we set about it that way), but the more complicated your idea is, the longer checklist you need. it’s just a checklist. that’s all. 

as you start writing, you’ll probably need to read some more. you’re going to want to say something you think is true, but you’re going to realize that you haven’t proved it (or you can’t). go look to see if someone else has proved it. 

maybe you’re right. add that evidence in. maybe you’re wrong. now your essay has a new direction. there is a living thing beneath you. actually, on that idea— 

i tend to structure my outlines (if i’m not sure yet what my point is) by pasting a bunch of quotes in a document, and reorganizing them until they make sense, they seem to flow. and then i start explaining why, until i realized i have begun to walk off in a new direction. always embrace that new direction. eventually you will find that you have not been taking twists and turns, but actually you were dizzily walking along a straight path. (unless you have been unfocused and you are trying to say too many things at once. ask a friend to read your essay if you’re not sure which is the case.) 

quotes are the smallest unit of your analysis. work with evidence. or, at least, i do. it makes writing an essay like solving a mystery. the idea of just spontaneously generating something new fills me with terror. rather, i want to autopsy something, trace its steps, and then discover how it came to be dead. this may not be true for you. but it’s true for meeeee and this is my post. 

tl;dr

0. read something and tell someone about it/post it out

0.5. come up with a bit and run with it

1. think "why is no one talking about this" or start free associating

2. come up with weird connections and tell someone about it/post it out

3. collect all of your posts and ideas into a gdoc and organize them.

anyway i like reading posts like this because i’m incredibly nosy. so i tried to write out the sort of thing i like to read from other people. i don’t suggest you actually try to replicate it (if anyone would even want to.) practically basically i just encourage you to try any single part of this that you think was interesting or relatable or helpful. personally, i suggest reading a book and posting your favorite lines from it. if you do this a couple times, i think you will find the seeds of an essay waiting for you in your own posts. 

[callmerainman]

Cameras | Reigen Arataka x fem!model!Reader

plot. The last thing you expected when you entered the office of Reigen Arataka, was to be head over heels for him. Reigen can't seem to believe it himself when Dimple points out that the beautiful model who came in his office for help is, in fact, flirting her way towards him. It's your first time chasing a man and not the other way around, and it's so much fun.

fandom. mob psycho 100

word count. 2.2k

tags. fem!reader, reader is a model, flirting, seducing, awkwardness, suggestive tones, implied sexual reference, oblivious Reigen Arataka, photoshoots, smoking, wingman Dimple.

part. 1/2

An elegant smile softly spread across your face, your hands touching your soft hair with delicacy, your legs crossed under the wooden desk. And, hard to ignore, your foot moving slowly in a circling motion. Your classy composure hides your real emotions so well, you're a woman of style. But, in reality, you're completely losing it.

Shit, he's handsome.

The blond man sitting in front of you is explaining his parcels and exorcism plans as he moves his hands left and right. He looks serious, professional, and focused. His name is Reigen Arataka, or The Greatest Psychic of the 21st Century. You didn't know anything about him until twenty minutes earlier, when you entered his office.

You work as a photo model in a well known modeling agency in Seasoning City. You recently started catwalks, but you're mainly featured on local fashion magazines covers and billboard signs across the city. Your career is going well, except for this feeling that you just can't shake off. In the last few months, every time you pose for a picture you feel a haunting presence weighing on your shoulders. It's like a cold, gloomy breeze. It didn't stop you from getting your work done, but it was more energy consuming than it should be. You didn't believe in ghosts, to be clear. But your friends suggested you call a psychic, and so you did. You chose the cheapest in town, just to give it a try. But nothing could have prepared you for this situation.

«So, considering the context, I think the best exorcism plan is the second in my list, miss»

You snap back to reality and quickly realize that you didn't listen to a single word he said. Too busy staring at the smooth gestures of his hands. You have to play it cool.

«How about you come with me to my next shooting? I have to get there in 30 minutes. Maybe you can take care of the problem on the spot. I'll be glad to pose for you if it can help, Reigen-san» you smile, resting your chin on your open palm.

It's weird. Usually men were the ones who chased you, and fell for you right on the spot. This is your first time being head over heels for a man, and at first sight too. You can't exactly pin point what it is that makes you twirl your hair around your index, and smile so intently. Maybe his ginger hair, or the way he articulates words. Or his grey suit and eccentric pink tie, and charismatic smile.

The man exudes sex. In sort of a pathetic, sketchy way.

«Fine by me» Reigen replies.

You clap your hands together and spark him a shiny smile «Great! Let's go then!»

As you go ahead to bring your car in front of the building, Reigen closes the office. Mob is at school and no clients are expected to come for the next few hours.

The conman trots down the stairs quickly so that he can go wait for you outside the building. But he feels a presence floating behind him.

«Oi, Reigen»

Reigen turns around and grumbles as his gaze meets a familiar green cloud.

«What, Dimple»

«That lady is most certainly hitting on you»

Reigen almost trips down the stairs. He quickly recollects himself as he stops in the middle of the stairwell.

«That's not true»

«Pff» the spirit spits «it's so obvious»

Reigen descends the stairs again, the sound of his shoes stomping on the floor booming in the echoey building.

«It's not obvious because she's not hitting on me! You're just saying it to make fun of me»

The green spirit floats backwards, in front of Reigen's face. He looks dead serious.

«Look man, I would never use such a poor excuse for a joke. I mean, a knockout of a model hitting on you? That would be too unrealistic!»

Reigen rolls his eyes and just keeps going, trying to ignore Dimple.

The latter agitates a little green arm in front of his face «Hellooo? She was literally eating you up with her preying eyes! Basically giggling and kicking her feet like a schoolgirl! And what about the "I'll be glad to pose for you~"»

Dimple channeled his most feminine, high-pitched voice to say that. Green little hands intertwined, eyes glittering and lashes fluttering. It pisses Reigen off.

«Miss (Y/N) is not hitting on me. And even if she were, obviously in a very parallel and distant world, I would never get my way with her. She's my client, and I'm a professional»

«Whatever you say dude...I warned you»

Dimple didn't pop out until later on, when you and Reigen get to your modeling agency. Everything is ready for today's photoshoot: lights, cameras, setting. As Reigen wanders around pretending to scan for spirits, you're approached by your publicist, Haru.

«Is he the male stripper we rented for Sakura's birthday?» she asks, pointing a finger towards Reigen.

«What? No! That's the psychic you suggested I call!» you exclaim.

«Oooh! Is he here to help you exorcise that spirit?»

«We don't know if there's a spirit yet, but he's here to help me out»

«And how are things going?»

«I want to sleep with him»

«(Y/N)!»

«I'm sorry, I can't help it!»

«Okay, I'll reschedule your Christmas jumpers shooting for next week. No big deal even if we don't do it today. Now go put some lingerie on»

«I love you so much, dearie»

In the end, there really was a spirit giving you a hard time during shootings. Or, to be specific, a curse. Dimple was able to detect it in no time, a cloud of gloomy, red smoke hovering over your shoulders. He absorbed it completely and you immediately felt the pressure on your back being released. Your pics came out perfect, flawless. You even put some extra work with that lingerie since you had a guest. And you did catch his brown eyes getting lost in the fabric of your garments, not without a sprinkle of guilt. It was a sight you yearned from men. Seeing them guilty for how mesmerized they are. But Reigen was dense. All afternoon you sent many hints that you, in fact, were flirting with him, but he didn't catch them. You still have time. Of course you have no idea that the one to get rid of the curse was Dimple, Reigen played it out as if he was the one doing all the magic. Dimple got accustomed to it.

«Thank you so much, Reigen-san» you smile, stunning as always. You already changed in your casual clothes, your body covered in a long, beige trenchcoat.

«No big deal, it was a small fish»

Dimple rolls his eyes behind Reigen's shoulder, but you can't see him. The sun is setting behind the building of your modeling agency. Reigen is smoking a cigarette, he asked you in advance if it bothers you, and you asked if you can join him. Reigen takes a quick glimpse at you. Even the way you smoke transpires elegance. His cheeks are lightly powdered in pink.

«I feel kinda bad though, I didn't pay you enough»

«No need to feel bad, I'm confident in my pricings»

«So you're gonna reject my drink invitation?»

Reigen chokes a puff of smoke. He throws you a quick glance and sees you smiling calmly, smoke slowly flowing out of your half-open lips. Dimple's words started floating in his own head. Was he right all along? Or you're just being nice? Do you really want to go out for a drink? Then, words just spill out on their own.

«Never said that»

You take a hit of your cigarette «Good, I'll lead the way»

There's something in your presence. So resolute, classy, confident. A different kind of confidence compared to Reigen. You always know how to behave, how to present yourself. It's hypnotic, magnetic even. Reigen can't help but be left speechless. He would lie to himself if he said that you weren't the prettiest woman he has ever seen. As you two walk towards your parked car, Reigen feels a familiar presence again.

«I told you, dude! She's all over you!» Dimple exlciams, waving his cloudy hands in front of Reigen.

«Shut the fuck up, she's not!»

You turn around «Did you say something?»

Reigen shakes his head vigorously, a bead of sweat running down his temple in embarrassment «N-nothing!»

The lounge bar you picked looks too expensive for Reigen's pockets. But you assured him that the drinks were on you, and ignored his insistence in paying. So now you and Reigen are sitting in front of each other, still dressed as you were this afternoon. He kinda feels out of place with his office suit on. But you fit the luxurious atmosphere so well. Your figure, your red dress, your make-up and smile. The way you talk, and laugh, and politely order two martinis. This place looks like it was made for you and you only. Talking with Reigen is an experience that you honestly expected very much. He's an interesting person, he's kind, funny, and smart. You didn't get the hots for him only for his looks. You understood the kind of person he was the moment he started listening to your problems this afternoon. He might look like the average japanese functional working citizen, but you saw right through him immediately.

And Reigen thinks the same of you. You're not only extremely attractive, confident and classy. You're cultured, intelligent, witty. He feels like talking to you is so easy, a feeling he didn't always get from others, or at least it wasn't often reciprocated. He wants to listen more of your words, of your mind. He's slowly getting hypnotized. You have a way with words, with gestures. The way you place your hand on your chin, or tuck hair behind your ear, is not casual. Everything you do is measure and balance. And the way you listen to his most complicated thoughts makes him want to tell you more, to stay a bit longer. He's enjoying himself for once in a while, laughing without thinking about anything else.

You put down your martini after taking a sip «By the way, Reigen, I think my photoshoot came out really, really well»

In a slow, sensual movement, you cross your legs under the table, your dress brushing against your bare skin with a velvet-like sound. You let one of your heels hang from the tip of your foot, then drop it down to the floor completely. Without any premeditation, you let your foot travel up Reigen's leg, first his ankle and then all the way up under the fabric of his pants.

«Maybe you should come to all my shootings from now on» you coo.

His shock is evident. Reigen locks his lips and holds his breath as he feels your foot stroking his leg under his pants. He wants to say something, but he can't.

Is she playing footsie with me?!

And then, for only God knows how many times, Dimple pops out again behind him, making Reigen jump on the spot.

«I fucking told you man!»

«I'm flirting with you, Reigen-san»

«Okay Dimple maybe you were right but what the fuck do I- say what?!»

You suppress a small giggle «I said that I'm flirting with you, Reigen. Since you didn't really seem to catch it»

Reigen is too stunned to speak «Oh!»

«I can stop though, if you're not interested in...more. Pursuing men so much is not my style. But I don't regret trying»

Your foot falls down from his leg and gets back to your heel, sliding it inside. You rest your chin in your hand, scanning Arataka's face for a reaction. He looks so embarrassed that it has you concerned. Did you go too far? To be completely honest, you liked messing with men. Making them look at you, leaving them speechless. But in a completely harmless way. Your last wish was to make Reigen uncomfortable in any way. You're about to say something, but you get interrupted.

«No, it's fine!» Reigen yelps, a nervous smile cracking on his face.

He mentally facepalms himself for sounding too excited, and too high pitched. But the reassuring smile you show him makes all his worries fade away. He doesn't feel judged, or under scrutiny.

«I-I mean» he resumes «I won't hold back if you're interested in...more»

Jesus he feels so stupid. But maybe you like stupid. It's written in the way you lean forward on your shared table, your hand reaching for his pink tie. You lightly pull it to encourage Reigen to come forward as well, sensually stroking it with two hands as you see his throat gulp out of nervousness.

«I'm glad to hear, Reigen. Otherwise I would have felt very lonely tonight, in my apartment»

«Good...»

Then, you let go of his tie and get up from your seat, and Reigen does the same. Mustering up some courage, Reigen extends his hand for you to take it. You happily oblige, placing yours in his palm. With a satisfied look on your face, you proceed to walk out of the lounge bar, hand in hand.

Without you noticing, Dimple appears in front of Reigen one last time.

«Can I come?» he asks.

«Fuck, no!» Reigen growls under his teeth.

«What did you say?» you ask.

«Nothing!»

[dearmura]

heyyy can i request a riki fic where yall argue and u ignore him but he tries realll hard to make it up to u?? tysmmmm

all that matters

☆ cw. she/her pronouns used to refer to reader

☆ pairings. idol! riki × fem! reader

☆ genre. established relationship, fluff, a little angst (they make up in the end dw), misunderstandings

☆ synopsis. when you refuse to talk to riki after a disagreement, he can't stand it, doing everything in his power to make it up to you

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

you have the reached the voicemail of nishimura riki, please leave a message after the tone *beeeeep*

rolling your eyes, you lock your phone, throwing it across your bed with a humph, curling yourself into a ball as you sulk under your blanket. as per usual, it was late at night, way to late to stay out, and riki was still not home from practice. a few texts sent to the other members suggests that practice ended hours ago, yet, riki stayed much later, like always

you appreciated his hard work, you really did. but was it so wrong to miss one's boyfriend? to want to spend time with him? it sure seemed like it to you, considering his empty promises everyday of coming home early, which he never seemed to fulfill

just as you were about to sulk further, you heard keys just outside your door, jolting you from your thoughts. though you were mad, in the end, you still missed him and couldn't resist greeting him, albeit, ready to scold him

slowly creaking the door open, riki assumed you were asleep by now considering how late it was but was instantly proven wrong when he was greeted to a fuming y/n tapping her foot, arms crossed

he knew he was screwed

"hey, angel~ why are you up so late? you didn't have to wait for me you kn-"

"don't 'angel' me, nishimura. I should be asking you that same question, now shouldn't I?" you interrupt, not giving him the chance to sweet talk his way out of this one

"y/n..." he continued, your name feeling weird as it rolls off his tongue, not being used to calling you anything other then a term of endearment

"I'm sorry, I really really am, but I have a comeback just around the corner and that's my priority right now" he tries. though, judging by your reaction, he assumes his words weren't the best articulated. you scoff

"more important than me? you didn't even bother to answer my calls. and don't even try to say you were busy, nishimura. I know practice ended hours ago" you knew you were being a little immature, but you couldn't think straight, fed up with ignorance

"baby I-" "just leave me alone. it's not like you care enough to prioritize me anyway" you spit bitterly

he tried to approach you but you just pulled away, needing a moment to yourself. in the heat of the moment, you walked away, leaving the boy dumbfounded as he watched your figure slowly reach rather and rather away from him. as you reached your room, you slammed the door, sliding down the wooden frame as tears brimmed in your eyes. you knew you were being dramatic but your mind was too clouded by emotions to even care

finally snapping out of his thoughts, riki quickly followed after you, only to be met with the door to his face. the quiet hitches of your breath from beyond the door made his heart break and mind go into overdrive, absolutely hating himself for being the reason you were in that state. as he tries to reason with you, you only pull away further, needing a moment to collect yourself, leaving him feeling what he could only describe as empty

he couldn't be upset with anyone but himself. he knew he was in the wrong for neglecting your feelings and needs in favor his work. he knew you had every reason under the sun be mad at him right now. but he couldn't deny how much he wanted you in his arms right now, showering you with kisses and being lulled to sleep by your little snores. in respect of your wishes, he painfully parts from the door, a tear slipping down his cheek as he lays on the couch. as you sulk to yourself, you don't even realize your boyfriend just in the other room crying himself to sleep, drowning in guilt and self loathing

✧

the next morning, you wake up with a pounding headache, reminding you of your tears the previous night. with a clearer mind, you reminisce of how dramatic you were being and feel a pang of guilt when you see the boy not sleeping beside you. groggily, you shuffle out of bed and into the kitchen to search for the boy, but he is no where to be seen. the thought of him heading to practice this early saddened you just as it did before

with a heavy sigh, you opened the fridge door, searching for something to eat when the front door opened. at this point, you were fed up with his audacity. the fact that he knew you were upset and didn't even try to reason with you, only continuing to make the same mistake again. not even wanting to bother with him, you storm back into your room before he could reach the kitchen

unbeknownst to you, the boy walked in, a devasting smile on his face as he held a bouquet of flowers in his arms, a DVD of your favorite movie, and your favorite snacks, waking up extra early to head to the store as soon as it opened. as he searched the house, his shoulders dropped when you were no where in sight. knocking at your door, he tries to keep a cheery mood but is slapped in the face when you don't even want to talk to him

at this point, his emotions got the best of him and he couldn't hold back his tears. sliding down the door, he drops down to his knees and sobs, utterly disgusted with himself

just beyond the door, you hear little sniffles and whines. though you were upset, he was still your boyfriend after all. worrily, you open the door and your eyes are met with a slumped riki with tear-stained eyes, disheveled hair, and a tear soaked shirt. looking up, he only sobs more

"I-I'm so *hiccup* sorry, angel. I know I'm a horrible *hiccup* boyfriend. p-please don't break up with *hiccup* me" his voice breaks as he offers you the bouquet of flowers, the DVD and snack bags scattered behind him

seeing his state only brought you to tears. wordlessly, you dropped to your knees with him and embraced him a tight hug. the warmth of his hold you missed oh so much brought you indescribable comfort

"no I'm sorry for pushing you away, my love. and I would never break up with you" you reassure him, feeling his hold tighten around you. face emerging from the crook of your neck, he manages to whisper out

"I'm sorry I was so *sniff* selfish and didn't prioritize y-" "shh shh shh, it's okay baby. I understand. you're with me now, that's all that matters" you massage his scalp, placing little pecks here and there, successfully calming him down

"now let's watch this movie" you reach for the DVD laid behind the boy, giving him a smile

"and I call dibs on the Takis" you state matter of factly, making him giggle, ruffling your hair at your cuteness

"it's all yours, princess"

fin

[sugoi-writes]

F!Reader x Hashira : Bedroom Shenanigans

The following is VERY VERY filthy indulgence/hcs about the Hashira wanting to c*m inside you... and it's not SUPER polished/long!

Per no request, but I HAD to write this!!!

This excludes Muichiro, Shinobu, and Mitsuri. I still find myself struggling to write for Muichiro;;;

TW: concerning pregnancy; both the reader and Hashiras below are wanting to/plan to have a family.

You've been warned!!

❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

Rengoku

You look so pretty, bouncing up and down on his cock with renewed vigor, your climax close at hand. He has one hand on your chest, the other gripping your hip to keep you balanced. He could tell that you were seconds away from losing yourself to the pleasure.

You glance down at the fiery eyed man, with your own glazed-covered eyes," I-Inside... ahhn! Kyo, do you--? Nnn, I need you to c-cum inside!"

A sudden thrust upward has you squealing, Kyojuro's pupils blown widely,"...are you sure about that, love?"

You're honestly babbling by this point, tongue threatening to loll outward as you roll your hips," K-Kyojuro... PLEASE..."

With a swift movement, your positions are shifted. You could barely register what happened as your legs are pressed to your chest. Rengoku wastes no time, and mercilessly thrusts into you. He's panting as you wail for him, toes popping from how violently and rapidly they curl.

"...careful when playing with fire, my love..." He grunts as his rhythm becomes erratic, his high rapidly approaching," I-It'll be hard to put out this blaze...!"

A thundering ecstacy overcomes the both of you, but your heart skips a beat in mild panic. Your eyes mirror Kyojuro's blown out pupils, as you realize that his cock hasn't wavered in the slightest.

"...I'm sorry my dear, but once is simply not enough... I MUST have you again. And again...," he articulates his motives with deep, slow thrusts, sending you and your throbbing cunt reeling.

"A-And again... so I can see you with my children..."

You gasp as Kyojuro picks up the pace, stammering," Ch-Children???" You repeat, to ensure he meant the plural version.

Kyojuro grins, deviously fired up," C-Could we really stop with just one?"

Tengen

"F-Fuck!!" You cry out, the slapping of skin on skin making you see stars. Your partner, Uzui, mercilessly pistons into you with reckless abandon. You glance back at his furrowed brows, face knit with concentration. You know he's holding out for you.

"U-Uuuu... uhhgh~ Uzui, you can--"

You feel your cheeks getting pinched by Tengen's large fingers, as he forces you to look back that the mirror before you. You gasp as you take in the sight of your man doubled over you, doggy style. It was enough to make make core's tension threaten to snap.

"What's that, Y/N~? You'll have to be louder than that- hah--f-for me to hear you!"

You clamp down around his cock, making him slow down and groan from how tight you were.

"C-Cum...," you pleaded quietly," C-Cum inside, please... I-I want you, Lord Tengen..."

Tengen blinks, pausing for a moment as he takes in what you said. He looks across the room to his other 3 spouses: Suma, Hina, and Makio. The three women look just as surprised, before Hina sits up. Intrigued, she smiles genuinely.

"Lord Tengen, do as you wish... but we'd love to see that, too." Makio is just as interested, her legs squeezing together as she watches your display heatedly," Y-Yeah, Uzui... you should--"

"K-KNOCK HER UP, LORD TENGEN!!!," Suma practically shrieks, making Uzui snort and Makio slap her back.

You didn't get a chance to laugh at the antics before you feel Tengen move again. You felt like your knees were gonna give out before your husband did!!!

Without any further prompting, he relentlessly gets back to business, approaching his climax.

"W-Well, if the four of you want children so badly-- I'll be sure to knock each and every one of you up, until you're plump and full with my-- agh, fuck!!"

Uzui couldn't finish his rambling before painting your insides white. And you certainly weren't complaining about that...

Sanemi

"...you want me--"

"Yeeeeesss~?"

"--to come inside of you?" Sanemi says incredulously, holding you firmly in a mating press. You were biting your lip, nodding enthusiastically. Sanemi's expression shifts from that of his normal mischief to something more serious. His hands tremble before gripping your thighs tighter.

"...then say it. Say it again." The tone shift catches you off guard. You're surprised, as you swallow dryly. Between the change in him physically and vocally, you felt a little sheepish.

"I-I... I want you.... t-to..." You gasped as you felt Sanemi's hot length grind against your bare cunt, his tip brushing your clit.

"Say it so I know you mean it." Sanemi says firmly. Though he was trying to save face, you could see the crack in his facade: he wanted NOTHING more right now than to make a family with you. And it was taking every ounce of restraint to not sheath himself inside you without confirmation.

You pleaded louder, practically begging him to cum inside of you, before a quick thrust disrupts your rambling. Sanemi, winded, repeats himself.

"A-Again... fuck, baby! Tell me what you want...!" You were practically wailing his name as your arms wrapped around his neck, holding on for dear life.

"K-Knock me up, 'Nemi!!!"

Repeated, heated mantras erupted from the both of you as Sanemi did as you pleaded. You'd be if you could stand tomorrow.

And neither of you could be happier.

Obanai

"N-Now now, you're getting too-- excited, Y/N," Obanai teases, his widened grin betraying himself. The both of you were fairly worked up, Obanai's tenacious thrusts making the two of you more than desperate for release. You braced your hands against the wall as you were claimed from behind, knees buckling.

" Hah-- you are too!" You choke back, a wanton trail of moans following your back talk.

" Ahh-- O-Oba...nai!!" The serpent pillar looks all too pleased, relishing the sounds that your voice and body made as he fucked you. But, it's what you said next that made his hips stutter to a halt.

"Mmm... inside...? Obanai, do you... w-want to cum inside?"

The man looming over you freezes, seemingly reeling from your question. How could you ask something so innocently, when that could hold so many joys and consequences behind it... It was enough to make his heart beat faster, his mouth hanging open silently.

You instinctively reached back, straining to grab a hand that tightened on the flesh of your ass. You smile back at him, head falling against the wall," I-It's okay... if we aren't ready for it..."

When Obanai pulls out, you're suddenly pulled backward, leaving you no time to whine or register what's happening. You're stumbling and stammering as you're dragged away towards Obanai's room. Your hastily moving partner, with flushed cheeks, hisses something quietly... but you don't sense any venom behind it... but more of a feverish, excitable energy.

"I-If I'm going to claim you like that-- I'm going to do it more properly."

Gyomei

Gyomei, though he was chasing the familiar feeling in his gut, was still so tender with you. He had let you be on top, allowing you to fully controll the situation (and how much you could handle).

Your head was tossed back in ecstacy, a quiet mantra of his name falling from your lips. From the way your skin glistened with sweat, to the way that tears were streaming down your own cheeks... he was totally enamored with the sight before him.

It wasn't until he felt you grasp one of his hands that he snapped back to reality. You guided his hand to the protrusion that his cock caused in your abdomen, smiling blissfully.

"D-Do you... would you... want to replace this bump... with a-another one?"

Gyomei's eyes widen, and instantly, tears start to flow more freely than before. He keeps his hand there, thrusting upwards gently as he takes over. You could barely think or hear as you hear a fond response.

"I-I want... nothing more!!! And I'll give it-- my everything, to you, Y/N!"

Giyuu

The raven haired Hashira was enjoying himself thoroughly, a hand placed on the top of your head to push you down just a tad more... You had taken his cock well so far; what's a little more?

You gurgled as you did your very best, knowing that Giyuu was going to approach his orgasm faster than you could keep up with. You tapped his thigh to let him know you needed air, and begrudgingly, he obliged, hand coming up to stroke himself.

"W-Wait, don't--! I want it... I want it somewhere else," you blurt out, taking your quiet-natured partner by surprise.

"Where do you need it, then?" Giyuu attempts to ask calmly, though a pleased groan breaks up his usual monotone.

You lean back, flat on your back, legs spreading," ...inside? A-And don't pull out this time... I want you... all of you... inside me."

For a moment, Giyuu's hand stills, as his face goes blank. And for a moment, you're sure that you've messed up, before Giyuu practically throws himself on top of you. He wordlessly aligns himself to your sopping, wet heat, looking to you with an intense, profound love.

"S-Sorry in advance-- too close," Giyuu grunts, before fully sheathing himself inside of you. You reel from shock, not expecting his cock to kiss your cervix so suddenly. The normally tender, sweet man was taking you like an animal... and honestly? You were more than okay with that.

And from the looks of it, he was going to take you over and over again, until he felt that you were entirely too full.

"Y-You'll be perfect-- you're so aahh-- ...'mazing!" Giyuu would praise between heavy pants," I-I'm going to make you a mother-- hah-- I-I'll make sure of it!"

[pyjamaart]

I never needed such help / This is my SOS

(Content warning: self harm) (If you don't have a problem with that, huge Drillman essay under the read more lol)

When I said that I wanted to draw Drillman some more, this really wasn't what I had in mind.

This week, I've been shopping for music on various second hand sites, which made me realize I don't physically own one of my all time favorite albums: "Squaring The Circle" by Sneaker Pimps. I had to change that immediately. (As well as buying like 15 other CDs and vinyls, lol.) As I was listening to it once again, I realized just how much the song "SOS" reminded me of Drillman and his struggles.

If you don't want to look it up, here are some of the lyrics:

"I look much smaller seen from inside out/Far too small to see myself/Down on reflection, cast in hate and in doubt/Flawed and flaws I add myself"

"Oh mirror mirror hanging on the wall/Please just show me someone else/My hopes were low and I got so much so less/Nothing left to save myself"

Listen, this dude got some major problems with his self esteem. He feels like an embarrassment because he was forced into a life he never wanted by his father. Now he seeks revenge on the company that bought his families business, along with him and apparently his bodily autonomy. Think about that for a minute. How fucked would it be if your parents wanted you to be a doctor, but a requirement for that would be to have your hand surgically removed and replaced with a scalpel. That's the exact situation Drillman found himself in.

Now a lot of people probably think "Well why doesn't he just ask Dr. Light to give him a new pair of hands then, if he's this miserable?" This is where we get to one of Drillmans biggest problems: the refusal to ask for help in any way. And even after the finale of the season, why would he go to the Lights for help in the first place? Wasn't it Aki who thought the best way to help him through his problems was hypnotism? And in the process embarrassing him in front of the whole city, ruining the last bit of reputation he may have had? (For real though, that episode is so hard for me to watch. I just feel so so bad for him, since I really struggle with social anxiety myself.)

As the guys from the Youtube channel "The D-Pad" (who reviewed all of the MMFC episodes) fittingly commented: "This would be like fucking Vietnam for him." And they were right. Obviously, Drillman is horrified that Aki would humiliate him like this and lashes out, solidifying his opinion that asking for help is a bad idea.

In that episode, there's this one moment that really stuck with me. At around the 8 minute mark, while Drillman is having a breakdown over the terrible "music" Aki made him perform, there's this one shot where he takes a moment to look at the drills that replaced his hands in frustration. The camera perspective makes it seem as if we are experiencing this brief scene through his eyes. It's actually quite upsetting. (A link to the moment I'm talking about: youtu.be/OC_jdhoeTrE?si=ZPzAXu…)

This is also a perfect moment for me to gush over the voice acting for this scene. Andrew McNee did such a fantastic job of conveying Drillmans distress and anger through his voice. That reminds me, giving him a British accent was honestly such a good decision.

The reason he doesn't talk at all throughout most of his first appearance is probably because the writers wanted to surprise their audience a little. As in, you see this big, imposing construction robot and think "Oh man, what a brute. He probably has a pretty deep voice." And then he actually starts to speak and it's this sophisticated, well-articulated British voice instead. Quite the whiplash.

To get back to the original topic, I'm honestly still upset that they didn't give Drillman a redemption arc at the end of the show. This probably would have happened in season 2, as Mega Man even says at some point "I know deep down your inner bits are good", proving to me that the writers definitely had something in mind regarding Drillmans character arc.

And now that all of that is out of the way, we can finally get into headcanon territory.

You might have seen this image while browsing the tags and asked yourself, "Why is this Mega Man Fully Charged artwork littered with content warnings?" And well, now that you're here and reading this, you probably know why. I can't say I've ever made myself sick with a drawing before. That's a first for me.

My headcanon is, that after the finale of the show, Drillman is just utterly lost. Lord Obsidian, who sought him out specifically because he knew of Drillmans problems and offered him a place to stay and a way to get revenge on the people he thought responsible for his predicament, turned out to be a horribly racist human who was just using him to achieve his own devious goals. After getting his ass kicked by the Lights, the same people who had not only humiliated him in front of the whole city, but who had also left him stuck to his abusive father for an entire day (I bet that ride to the police station was horrible for all the people involved, most of all the police bots who had to hear the Drillmen yell at each other the whole time), Sgt. Night is detained by the police. We don't actually see what happens after that, because that's where the show ends.

I'd like to think that the Lights actually try to talk to the robot masters once everything is over, telling them all the horrible things their so-called "leader" has said and done. And most importantly, what he thinks of robots: That they're nothing but tools to him. That once they had gotten him his Mega key, he would have wiped their minds and turned them into mindless machines.  

I'm guessing none of the robot masters would take these news well, but most of all Drillman. I think that after he ran away from Skyraisers Inc. and fought Mega Man for the first time, he was really relieved to have some place to stay and a new goal, maybe even a robot to look up to. That being Lord Obsidian of course. Who knows what lies he told Drillman and the others? Kinda sad that we never really got to see what the robot masters who stayed with Lord Obsidian did the entire day. When they weren't causing havoc in the city, that is.

None of them seemed really friendly with each other in the finale, now that I think about it. I guess "Obsidians robot sanctuary" wasn't really a great place to stay at after all. But still better than being homeless, like that one maniac living in the forest all by himself. Speaking of Woodman, in my AU, he and Drillman already knew each other at this point. This also reminds me of something I forgot to mention in my last post. While I'd love to see them interact in any way, because they're both my favorite characters, I don't ship them in any way whatsoever. I'd also like to think that Woodman and Drillmans father were schoolmates back in the day, maybe even friends? (I'm still holding onto those 30 years).

Anyway, after all the former robot comrades part ways, now without a leader, what was Drillman supposed to do? Once again betrayed by a trusted figure, feeling useless and without purpose, still with these stupid drills mounted to his body... Still too ashamed to ask for help. After all that has happened in the past few hours he begins spiraling, which ultimately leads him to make a very unfortunate decision. Trying to get at least some of the freedom in his life back, he attempts to get rid of the drills making up his body on his own, using the same tools that have haunted him all this time to finally rid himself of this burden.

He regrets this just seconds after, when he's left with an unresponsive limb, metal and wires exposed and oil splattered all over his orange plating. All he can do is stare at the stained drill in front of him in horror.

"I never needed such help/This is my SOS"

Jesus Christ that got dark. Sorry. I mentioned in my last post that Drillman possibly has really bad body dysmorphia, which I'm also trying to convey here. Don't worry, he really gets his hands back after this. Maybe the Lights find him after that and the good Doctor offers to fix him up. By which I mean not only his arm. Because apparently, Dr. Light also doubles as robot psychologist. I just really need Drillman to get his happy ending. He really really deserves it after everything he had to go trough over the course of the show. 

I also need him to have a DJing redemption, besides the normal redemption. I've seen people headcanon that he exclusively likes classical music, but I personally don't believe that. He'd be the kind of music nerd who would say stuff like "I listen to everything" and then you look at his playlists and he actually listens to everything. Maybe not experimental noise rock, though. I can just imagine Aki and Suna helping him put on an actual show, this time without any hypnotizing bullshit, as a way for Aki to apologize for the dread he's caused Drillman during that incident. Drillman would be highly suspicious at first, but actually goes along with it in the end. Maybe they'd also take Fireman along, who Dr. Light also blessed with a brand new pair of hands. The punchline at the end would be that Drillman would have so much anxiety about embarrassing himself again, that he forgets to make an actual set list for the gig. In the end, he exclusively plays Lady Gaga songs, which no one complains about.

Alright then, enough yapping from me. I've really been writing this essay since 8pm. And now it's 2am. My god. I just have a lot of feelings about Drillman.

But now I really gotta go to bed. Stay safe peeps. I hope you actually read the content warnings. Jenny out.

[artful-aries]

Genshin Headcanons: How They Apologize (Itto, Albedo, Jean)

​​

​​Itto:

​​Depending on what you fought about, at first, he would be too proud to apologize

​​The One and Oni Arataki Itto, being wrong? Fat chance

​​Yet as you give him the cold shoulder, he grows increasingly pouty. Why aren’t you talking to him and giving him kisses? Don’t you love him anymore? He begins to grow almost insecure the longer you draw out the punishment

​​It doesn’t take long of being ignored till his resolve is crumbling to dust. Depending on how mad you are, Itto might be extra and even get down on his knees as he apologizes to you

​​“(Y/N), my babe, my doll, my honey, my numero two, please don’t be mad at me anymore! I won’t do it again, Oni’s honor! Just please, please stop ignoring me babe. I miss being in your arms, and kissing you.”

​​If you don’t have the patience to ignore him for a while, or his groveling for your affection isn’t enough, you can always talk to Shinobu

​​Within the hour, she will have him whipped into shape with a written apology that he will read out in front of you

​​It would be a nice apology that addresses the issue nicely thanks to Shinobu’s advice. It’s just hard to ignore the giant whelp that Itto seems to have on the back of his head after spending an hour under Shinobu’s strict gaze

​​He will be super grateful that you’ve forgiven him, vowing to never make the same mistake again

​​Itto does surprisingly well about not repeating past offenses, the problem is that he seems to always come up with new ones

​​

​​Albedo:

​​Arguments with him are rare and mostly one sided. It’s not that he doesn’t care, it’s just that he’s usually confused about why you are mad

​​It takes him a while to get around to apologizing to you

​​Albedo not only wants to make sure you have had plenty of time to cool off, but he also wants to make sure that he prepares an articulate apology for you

​​Given that he tries to plan out his apology, it comes out as a bit stiff and script like, but the small furrow of his brows and the concern in his eyes shows that he really does care about your feelings

​​He’s more than happy to talk about your feelings; why you got mad, where things went wrong, and how to not make the same mistakes in the future

Albedo will handle the situation in a very mature way, and make sure that you don’t confuse his stoicism for lack of feeling. He cares very much about what you think, he just has a hard time showing it

​​He’s very keen on making sure there is healthy communication between you two. Albedo isn’t dumb, he knows he can be a bit cold and aloof externally, and communication is the tool he uses to try and combat potential misunderstandings

​​When you have forgiven him, he will give you a tender kiss to your forehead, a wordless promise that he will try to do better for you in the future.

​​

​​Jean:

​​She usually feels a lot of guilt before the argument is even over

​​When it’s possible, she will find a way to interrupt your ranting to apologize, and ask you to calmly talk about the issue with her

​​If you storm out before she gets to apologize, she’s actually very internally distraught, barely able to concentrate on her work with the Knights

​​As soon as the opportunity arises, she’s giving you a bouquet of dandelions to apologize

​​Jean will explain that she knows what upset you and why, and that she feels terrible about it

​​She doesn’t want you to think that just because she’s busy that she doesn’t think about the best way to resolve problems with you

​​Her job is super stressful and she isn’t perfect, but she appreciates your understanding

​​With her apology, you almost completely forget what you were even mad about to begin with; her apology is just that sincere and heartfelt. How could you stay mad at her?

​​Even after she’s forgiven, she will still feel a little awkward and guilty about the argument until you give her a kiss for reassurance; whether it’s on her forehead, cheek, lips, or hands, you’ll have her blushing like a schoolgirl and forgetting what she was torn up about

[miniimapp]

Aaron Z - Actually, Cassidy, I Am Busy

Gen ;; Fluff - Headcanons

Warnings ;; Noooo ??

Proofread + Edited ;; only when adding the seasoning (bold,, italics,, purple,, etc.)

Auth. Note ;; I love highschool!Aaron Z too much,, he's so precious TT^TT

This turned out much longer than anticipated (💀), so I do hope you enjoy !!

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Ah,, the school production

How you've missed the last minute rehearsals, the after show parties, mouthing conversations across the stage and that one girl who got the lead and won't shut the hell up about it

What's not to love ??

Okay,, maybe you're being unnecessarily pessimistic

Because you'll still come back

Every

Single

Time

Honestly,, it's a problem at this point

Like masochism but without the physical pain

Though it is sometimes physical

Like,,

Whoever the fuck is responsible for some of these dance moves needs to chopped into little pieces and fed to some hungry piranhas

You've rolled your ankle and nearly shattered it into smithereens about a hundred times

Rehearsals have just started and you're on your first fucking dance number

Clumsy is looking like a bit of an understatement at this point

You're not normally like this, you swear !!

You're just not much of a dancer

At least not these dance moves anyway

Who decided a high kick followed by step-turn followed by another high kick and then a roll and then a fucking leap into yet another bloody high kick was a good and necessary part of the routine

You'd do just fine with a few arm waves.. maybe a YMCA if we're feeling particularly adventurous

You have a few choice words for them

Or maybe a whole ass speech

We'll see how articulate you are when you find them

As you huff and puff through your anger you don't notice the sound of footsteps behind you

"What are you doing?"

An ungodly shriek flies from your lips as you jump nearly three fucking feet in the air

You curl into a nearby wall, grasping at your chest as if that would slow your racing heart

"What the hell, man?"

You groan at the cackling boy behind you

Aaron Z

Fucking prick

Since being forced together as what essentially boiled down to patient and nurse,, the two of you had grown close

Bit hard not to when you can't catch a single break from one another

"Couldn't resist, sorry."

You held up your fist, shaking it mockingly

"One of these days I'll get a bell on you and then we'll see what's funnier."

"I could be wearing a foghorn that goes off whenever I come within 6 feet of you and you still wouldn't notice. You'd be too stuck inside that head of yours."

You roll your eyes but concede with a smile

"Whatever, man."

"Anyway, wanna let me in on what has you so.. "

"Excited? Thrilled? Jumping for joy? Sure thing, Z, let me fill you in on what I so dearly love about these shows!"

Z furrows his brow and looks almost.. scared ??

Dramatic fucker

"I've truly missed practically breaking my ankle every other second oh so much, haven't you?"

"..I just got off crutches.."

...

Fuck

"Right, that was ill-timed, huh.. but you get my point!"

Z kinda just stares at your blankly as you fight the urge to sigh

"..Okay, so maybe you don't get my point.."

"You know, I don't know if I even know my point.. oh well, just know that my feet hurt and I'm ready to throw hands!"

Z blinked at you slowly before nodding

"Sure, you do that.."

You,, lost in your righteous fury,, don't register the sarcasm and nod firmly

"I absolutely will do that, just you watch me. I swear, when I get my hands on that-"

"Z! We need some help with the choreo over here, could you spare us a second?"

Your eyes narrow at the interruption before widening in slow realisation

"Be right over!" Z yells back before turning to you. "See ya."

You glare at his shrinking figure..

So he's the bitch that's decided to cast ruin upon your ankles..

Very well,, two can play that game !!

You'll give him just as good as you get

Over the following weeks you pulled some..uh,, harmless (??) pranks on Z

All necessary reparations for the damages to your body,, mind and soul,, of course !!

Really,, you didn't ever do anything bad to him.. just caused some mild inconvenience

Like,, when he changed shoes for dancing you'd spray the insides of his trainers with water

Or putting his playlist on shuffle when he's across the room

Or "accidentally" breaking his bluetooth connection by turning off his speaker and then turning it back on again.. multiple times throughout rehearsals

You would never do anything actually harmful !!

All tricks are mildly inconvenient and annoying at worst and funny at best !!

You swear !!

Please no arrest..

A month or so before the show you notice Z getting actually frustrated at one of your little.. pranks

So you decide to quit them,, they were pretty petty after all

Unfortunately,, in the process of putting a stop to your trickster ways Z notices you in your trickster ways

Needless to say,, he's not all that.. impressed

(It's not your fault the guy's been attempting to break your bones every rehearsal,, whether intentionally or not..)

So an apology it is..

SIKE

As if !!

Just because he's perpetually in crutches doesn't mean you want be

Haha loser..

...

Okay,, okay

So maybe you do apologise after all

That last thought made you feel kinda bad.. it's not Z's fault his limbs are too long and don't listen to him

(It's prolly because they're so far away from his brain..)

Although,, and you hate to admit it,, he somehow overcomes the limits of his lankiness and becomes quite.. graceful when he dances

It's pretty cool to watch..

He looks very at home,, not just in the space but also in his body

It's enchanting to watch

(IN A COMPLETELY PLATONIC WAY AHAHAHAHA)

Haha..

.. anyway

Z, to your surprise, takes the situation really well

Like,, bursts out laughing kinda well

Which, let's be clear, you were so relieved by, you'd been expecting him to be pretty upset about it

But no,, Z's spent enough time around his friends and their pranks to be able to find the humour in your "revenge"

If anything you accidentally incite a prank wars type situation

Which really solidifies your crush ahem,, sorry friendship

You know what they say,, friends that prank together stay together

(Though I guess it's less pranking together and more each other.. oh well)

The war spans the rest of the rehearsal period,, each one a (probably sloppy) attempt to one-up the last

It's fun

And better yet it's mostly harmless

Mostly...

There was that one time a bucket barely missed your head when Z was attempting to douse you in glitter

At least you would've had a concussion in style ??

Anyway,, the prank war was pretty much harmless

No fatal wounds were received which has to count as a win,, right ??

You both made it to opening night unharmed !!

And someone seemed to pick up on your disgruntled attitude during dance rehearsals because suddenly there were a lot more breaks and in depth dance breakdowns

And wouldn't you know it,, the ensemble began picking everything up 12x faster

A greater miracle you've never seen

And if by opening night the prank wars are somehow still going..

Well,, the glint in Z's eyes whenever they catch yours tells you more than enough

You're in for a treat