#babey writes

[qtkoshi]

hobie and his bubblegum s/o

- I’m sorry y’all no i’m not, but i am not immune to the preppy x outcast trope and i  - no i am not submitting to the idea of being a rockers gf leave me alone i absolutely am s/o to @dizscreams for prompting this idea never claimed to be a writer ;; im just ramblin

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hobie brown wasn’t afraid to go against the common narrative. wasn’t afraid of many things, actually (as we know). he was loud, abrasive. tough. 

and then there was you. soft and all smiles. it was a little sickening to be honest: how someone so bubbly and sweet complimented him so well. 

but let’s not get it twisted, it’s not as if you were the one to round out his edges. despite the obvious clashes in personal style, you both carried similar ideologies in life, and in so carried a mutual respect in each other’s individuality and comfort. and what more could hobie really ask for in a partner? 

additional headcannons i can’t stop thinking of:

wearing his jacket casually around >> you’re in an all pink fit? don’t care, the jacket smells like him and he likes seeing you in his clothes (makes him proud to let others know your his not that he would conform to dated notions of ownership tho so shhh) 

omg swapping styles?? did it one time as a joke, now you both catch yourself wearing pieces incorporated into your outfits that remind you of the other. (cutesy metal flower and butterfly chokers?? modified spikes added onto your accessories???)

firm believer in this man being so so comfortable in his own self and masculinity. fuck do you mean i’ll look girly? give me the damn plushy rn

thinking of u possibly doing dance or cheer and? y’all both going to each other’s shows and sticking out like a sore thumb in the crowd, but neither of y’all give a fuck bc that’s your baby up there and man are u proud

patching him up with hello kitty bandages (which he thinks are cool as fuck).

the bubblegum is from u btw says it reminds him of u

making playlists for each other???? omg → actually have more overlap than ppl think; both love to explore genres (also helps that they’re ur fave songs, bc if u love them there has to be something gud about them right?)

this song with y'all actually

if u see me adding more on this later, don’t worry ab it

⊗

[devilander]

rain falls in love

homelander x gn reader. fluff, hurt/comfort, mentions of past abuse

Cozy Corner Domaystic: Thunderstorm

You were a light sleeper. Even minor disturbances would wake you instantly; your cat meowing, a neighborhood’s TV turned on, cars passing through the street. Whenever Homelander and you slept together you couldn't help but be slightly envious of how he could turn off the whole world—he slept like a stone, slept like the dead. 

Today, though, you doubted many could sleep through the thunderstorm that split New York’s sky. Each thunder louder than the other, sequences of lightning turning the apartment clear as day. And, courtesy of your boyfriend's gigantic windows, you felt enclosed in the roar of the night. 

For some, it could be an entertaining spectacle; nature's power a soothing balm, a way to make you contemplate how much of your worries were small and ephemeral—in the end, there was only the earth and the rain. 

You could, in theory, see the poetry of it. But all you felt was an overwhelming fear. The loud noises reminded you of your father's booming voice, the cracking of electricity too similar to his heavy hands landing on you. 

John was away, having left a week ago in some undisclosed mission. Undisclosed to the public, of course, because he told you in detail how, actually, he was going to take part in a non-authorized invasion of a terrorist cell. Or so he called it. 

You were alone. Only you and the storm and Popsicle purring in your lap, indifferent to his surroundings. 

After another furious thunder nearly frightening you to death, you decided to call John. Tears streamed down your face and you felt ridiculous—it’s only rain. And yet. 

He probably wouldn't pick up. If he did, he'd be too busy, what could he do?

In the first ring, however, he answered. “Hello, sweet face. Awake at this hour?”

“Oh, it's nothing.” You tried to disguise your sniffles, suddenly beyond embarrassed. “I just wanted to hear your voice.”

Silence, and then—

“Is it the storm, sweetheart?”

“Yes, yeah. I can't sleep, it keeps reminding me of… you know. I'm sorry for bothering you.”

“Don't you ever apologize to me for that, ever,” he retorted, voice tinged with anger, though you knew it wasn't aimed at you. 

“Can we—” Another thunder, and this time you yelped, scaring Popsicle so that he ran to hide under the bed. “God, I hate this,” you whimpered. “I just want you here. I miss you so much.”

“I miss you too, you precious thing. Fuck, this is bullshit. A fucking week here and we accomplished shit. They sent me the most incompetent team of motherfuckers, I'm up my ass with their whining and ‘but sir, mister Edgar said we should be cautious’.”

You laughed. “Sounds like a trifle.”

“Ugh, fucking tell me about it. A week without you for this bullshit. Y’know what, I'm out. Hold on there, honey, I'll be with you in a moment.” 

And he hung up. And the storm raged on, but you felt a giddy warmness settling on you. 

Not before long, he barged in, completely wet, but you couldn't care less. You ran to his arms, letting the raindrops seep through your clothes as tangible proof of his devotion. 

“You didn't need to come.”

“Ah, but I promised, didn't I? I'll be with you anytime you need me, and you need me now, don't you?”

You giggled, forgetting all about the fears. It was washed over. “I do. And you need a hot bath.”

“Hmph. You too, little baby. C’mon, join me.”

You sat behind him in the tub, washing his hair, enjoying every second of this quiet moment. He moaned at the contact and squeezed your thigh as it circled his waist. 

If the storm was a demonstration of nature's power, John was both its likeness and antithesis—he himself was a force to be reckoned with, an amalgamation of sheer strength and might. Created by men, but a victim of them. You could understand that, quite intimately.

He gave you security in his power, and you gave him peace in your tenderness—the value of a whisper to a snowbank. 

“John,” you whispered. “I love you. I'll keep you forever, because you belong to me and I to you. Will you let me?”

You felt, more than you saw, his deep breath, swallowing back tears you knew were spilling down his cheeks. You didn't care what they said, what he did looking back in anger, because this was the only truth. 

“Yeah…” He choked up, but soldiered on. “Yeah, my love. I'm never letting you go. I fucking love you to pieces.”

As you lay in bed together you decided—in the end, there was only he and you. 

[babygirlwolverine]

“you ruined my life,” dean hissed, kicking at the stone pillar he’d placed carefully into the ground just a day prior.

“you absolute asshole. do you hear me? you ruined my life, cas. and I hate you.” he kicked the stone again, ankle throbbing with the force of the collision, and it creaked backwards in the soil; threatening to topple over and break.

the movement was enough to break the anger, and dean sank to the ground, his fingers tracing over the letters in cas’ name that he’d spent weeks hand carving into the stone.

“you ruined my life. I’ll never find someone like you ever again. do you know that? do you not get it, cas?”

a sob broke free, and then another. words choked out through a thick veil of anguish. “I’ll never love anyone again. it was always you, cas. always will be.”

he let his fingers linger over the words under cas’ name. his final goodbye.

I love you, too.

[mediumgayitalian]

prev

———

Hades’ favourite thing to rant about is how much his family forgets about and sidelines him. Nico has literally never once given the lecture his full attention, because why the fresh fuck would he subject himself to that, but he discovers, lying facedown on the floor of Cabin Three, that he must have internalised enough of it to remember some key points.

He is loathe to admit it, but Father is right. How come the Poseidon cabin floors are so nice and comfortable? The floor of Cabin Thirteen sucks. Whenever he has Floor Time in his own cabin, he gets bruised and cold. Injustice.

“Could you suffer quieter? I’m trying to study.”

“Shut up, Percy.”

“I’m not the one groaning in misery.”

“Shut up, Percy.”

Percy sighs heavily. There’s a loud thud as he snaps his textbook shut, and the creak of mattress springs as he shifts.

“You’re so fuckin’ irritating, you know that?”

“Coming from you,” Nico says indignantly, pushing up to glare at him. Percy makes a face back. “I am here, having a crisis, being vulnerable in front of you —”

“Oh my gods.”

“— like you suggested, to rebuild our tenuous relationship —”

“I wish the prophecy had killed me. Either one, I’m not picky.”

“— and you are studying! Nose in a book! You hate reading! You are doing this just to spite me!”

“I am doing this to pass my classes,” Percy snips. “Someone should send you to public school. You need to experience that particular level of hell.”

“Experienced hell already, thanks. Don’t need a redo.”

“Tartarus references don’t shut me up, Zombie Boy. I’ve been there too.”

“Ugh.”

Percy rolls his eyes, turning back to his textbook. Nico contemplates rolling back on the floor to Ruminate and Think (after the second failure in a row he has a much to think about, like what the fuck is he supposed to do, should he even fucking bother, is he doomed to life without love, etc, etc) but finds himself, instead, sitting upright. Watching his — friend. Watching his heavy frown, listening to the bit-back curses and the crinkle of pages when he holds the book too tightly.

He’s moody, today. Sullen. Ate his breakfast in silence and stomped off to the sword fighting arena, raising hurricane downpour around the open theatre to deter anyone from joining him. Coincidentally, Annabeth has not been seen all day.

“Are you okay?” Nico asks quietly.

Percy shrugs, glancing over then glancing quickly away. “Fine.”

“I mean. You flooded half the camp. So.”

“Just drop it, Nico. If you’re going to stay in here, be quiet.”

Nico bites back the automatic, scathing retort. Be quiet, Nicolò! Lalalalala! Don’t tell me what to do! Ugh! I hate having a little brother! Yeah, well, I hate you too!

A quick, cut-off choking sound cuts through his thoughts. He looks up, startled, to find Percy’s face red, to find him swiping angrily at his cheeks.

“Woah,” he murmurs, climbing hastily upright. He ignores the loud chanting in his brain telling him to leave, the discomfort swirling in his stomach at seeing someone cry, seeing another man cry, instead hovering awkwardly. Percy shrugs off the hand he touches hesitantly to his shoulder, and Nico holds it there, suspended, in between and outstretched.

“I’m fine. Leave me alone.”

Nico hesitates. Of all people, he…nobody wants Nico around, when they’re —whatever Percy is. Upset. The only thing he can probably do is make it worse.

But what can he do? Leave him? Get Annabeth? Jason? None of it seems right. Instead he stands, frozen, hand still half-outstretched, eyes wide.

“You can —” He clears his throat. “Um. Did something happen?”

Percy shrugs. His eyes remain glued resolutely to his textbook, although the pages are wet and warped.

“Cause you can tell me, you know. I won’t — tell anyone. Or anything.”

Gods, he is so far out of his depth. Could Kampe come back and attack? That would be easier to deal with. Nico could handle that.

“I don’t —” the pages of the textbook crinkle under Percy’s grip — “it’s fucking stupid, is what it is.”

Hovering is not the right call. He knows that much. He scans the cabin, evaluating his options — sitting back on the floor feels like a bad plan. He doesn’t think any kind of touch would be welcomed, nor is he entirely comfortable in giving it. He doesn’t want to crowd. He doesn’t want to seem too distant.

Slowly, carefully gauging Percy’s reaction, he sits on the bed, across from him. He leaves the textbook between them, letting Percy keep pretending to read it, and tucks his legs up under his knees. He fiddles absentmindedly with his ring, chewing his lip every time Percy sniffles.

“Why’s it stupid?”

Percy shrugs again. Nico resists the urge to shake him. How does anyone deal with this shit? What the hell is he even supposed to do? He’s not Jason. He’s not Annabeth. Hell, he’s not Will, who seems to read emotions intuitively, who seems to know exactly what to do when someone is scared, when someone is upset. Even when someone is angry. He tries to imagine Will, in his position. Sitting across from a crying Percy Jackson, saviour of the world. Yesterday, one of the younger kids had tripped and scraped half the skin off their arm on the basketball court. Will had been there with a soft smile and gentle, glowing hands, speaking quietly and cracking small jokes until the kid was laughing again. Nico tries to imagine that here, soft words and lighthearted jokes. It doesn’t seem right. Would he — touch Percy’s wrist, like he did with Clarisse? Drag the fight right out of him?

Is Percy even angry? Nico has seen him angry before. Murderous. Fuming.

He’s never seen him cry.

Percy’s voice is like palms scraping hard over sharp gravel stones. “I made Annabeth cry this morning.”

The way he says it makes it hard for Nico to actually understand his words. His tone of voice is — volatile, is the best way he can describe it. Loathing. Based on the curling self-hatred dripping from the sentence Nico would assume he’d tried to kill her — he says I made her cry like he doesn’t deserve to live for it. Like he’s hoping to be punished.

“That happens,” Nico says. He swallows. “When you — love people.”

He and Bianca made each other cry a lot. He just never — stopped, never gave her half a second. Sometimes she looked at him and he knew she wanted to hit him. She never did. But he knew and she knew he knew and sometimes it would well up in her eyes, and she would lock herself in the bathroom of their room and turn on the sink and cry and cry and cry. And it ached something nasty in the cavity of his chest.

Percy sneers at his hands, flexing his fingers. “People who love you don’t make you cry. That’s just — hurting. That’s people who hurt everyone around them.”

Nico frowns. “That’s not true.”

“It is,” he says venomously. “I’m supposed to be — I’m supposed to protect her. I’m supposed to keep her safe, keep her from people who cause her pain.”

“People like you?”

Percy nods.

Nico drags his teeth over his bottom lip. He thinks of bleeding fingers clinging to a tiny shaft of rock, thinks of dangerous green eyes, hard voices; thinks of a thick web clinging to a broken ankle and an abyss. Thinks of promises and oaths and choosing. Thinks of falling. Thinks of letting go.

“People who want to harm Annabeth do not jump into the Pit for her.”

The pages of Percy’s textbook have started to dry. The ink has bled, dark splotches in perfect circles. The fountain bubbles gently behind them, mattress creaking under shifting legs.

“You don’t understand what I —” He pauses, swallowing. “Did, down there.”

“D’you hurt her?”

“…I scared her.”

“Oh, well — Christ, Percy! Is that really what this — brooding is about?” He scoffs. “No shit you scared her!”

“…What?”

Percy looks at him, wide-eyed. Nico rolls his eyes.

“Aw, when you were fighting for your life in the place meant to tear your essence into atoms, did you do things that make you question your personhood? Your morals?”

“I —”

“Of course you did, dumbass! Of course you —” he takes a breath, trying to organize the jumble of thoughts in his brain — “of course the physical manifestation of darkness and distortion made you act differently than you would usually, Percy. Of course it — affected you. Gods. Of course you’re struggling.” He flicks Percy’s knee, looking at him with exaggerated exasperation. “Use your brain, why don’t you.”

A small smile quirks the corners of Percy’s mouth, although it fades as quickly as it comes. He wipes his face with his sleeve, breath shuddering.

“She didn’t scare me, though.”

“Not even once?”

“Not in the same way,” Percy admits. “I was scared, once, when I looked at her. In the death mist. But that wasn’t — her, you know? She could never scare me.”

“I mean,” Nico wrinkles his nose, trying to articulate, “I think that’s kind of abnormal?”

Percy tilts his head.

“I just mean that you have a very high threshold, Percy. For…what you’ll tolerate from people you care about.”

“Everyone has that.”

“Not in the same way you do.” He taps his knuckles, considering. “Tell me the truth — if Annabeth stabbed someone to death in front of you, in total cold blood, would you help her hide the body?”

“Yes,” he says immediately. He shrinks, a little. “Oh.”

Nico rushes to assure, placing a fleeting touch on his wrist. “It’s not necessarily a bad thing. I don’t think. It’s just —” He shrugs. “I’m used to scaring people, too. I don’t mean to. I don’t understand it. I don’t understand what I — do, it’s not intentional.”

Percy opens his mouth, but Nico stumbles on.

“But you’re not — a monster, Percy, gods. No one thinks you’re a monster. Especially not Annabeth.”

Percy wiggles his finger under his watch strap, turning it tightly around his wrist, cutting off the circulation. Nico watches but doesn’t say anything.

“You’re not, either.”

Nico blinks. “Huh?”

“A monster,” he explains. “You’re not, either.”

“Oh.” Nico shrugs. “Thanks, I guess.”

“No, I mean it, dude, I — look. Listen.” Percy sighs. “You got baggage. I put some of it on you. I’m sorry.”

Hands around his — throat — angry, angry eyes — harder — bruising — you promised! you promised! you promised!

“It’s fine.” A pause. “I did shit to you, too.”

“It’s not fine. And I know you did. We can still —”

He doesn’t finish his sentence. He sighs again, a long, defeated sound, and curls in on himself.

“One day you’ll forgive yourself,” Nico murmurs. “One day I’ll — me too, I guess. Me and you.”

Percy smiles tiredly. “And we’ll be okay?”

“No. You’ll still be annoying.”

He snorts. “Whatever. Drama queen.”

“Oh, I’m the drama queen, Mr. I Don’t Deserve To Be Loved.”

Percy snorts. He turns back to his textbook, fiddling with the dried page, and snorts again, trying to duck his head. Nico bites the corner of his mouth, hard. Percy glances up again, and Nico meets his eyes, and they —

Gods, they’re bad at this.

But suddenly Percy can’t choke back his laughter, and it’s wheezing and self-deprecating and still kind of teary and Nico is laughing, too, because thank the gods that shit is over. Percy’s red-cheeked and Nico is red-cheeked and neither of them are going to look at each other for a week, Nico’s sure, but for now he can roll his eyes at Percy’s melodrama and dodge his embarrassed shoving, and it’s fine.

“You should talk to Annabeth,” Nico suggests, when the giggling has toned down.

Percy picks at the torn-up skin around his nails. “Probably.”

“Are you going to?”

“Why were you lying on the floor?” Percy asks instead. It is the least subtle subject change of all time, but Nico takes it as the hint it is and drops the subject. It’s not his business, anyway. They’ll talk. He knows Annabeth better than to think she’ll let it fester, at least.

“Oh, you know. Crushing weight of being alive, mortifying ordeal of being known, et cetera, et cetera.”

“Oh my gods. I’m sorry I asked.”

“Well, serves you right then, you selfish bitch.”

Percy snorts. “What, I cry all over you and now it’s your turn to vent?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s exactly how it works. Transactional and eye-for-an-eye. Exactly as friendship should be.”

“You’re not nearly as funny as you think you are,” Percy says, but he can’t tamp down his smile any more than he can stop his eyes from rolling, so there. Nico is exactly as funny as he thinks he is, thank you very much. A regular comedian.

Percy snaps textbook closed and sets it on the bedside table. “So.”

“So.”

Nico squirms. Suddenly he’s not sure why the hell he came in here in the first place. Are the floors in Cabin Thirteen really that bad? Surely not. Surely Floor Time didn’t have to be in Percy’s cabin.

(He blames Father for this. He’s horribly nosy. No doubt he’s passed his nosiness onto Nico, irregardless of his lack of DNA, and made Nico the way that he is. He can’t think of a single other reason he ducked into the cabin after lunch, when Percy still hadn’t shown his face.)

“Dude, come on. You came in here and whined and huffed and made a nuisance of yourself for literally forty minutes, and now that I’m giving you the attention you begged for you don’t want it? Nuh-uh. Spill.”

“There’s nothing to spill about,” Nico protests, “gods, can’t a man just complain in peace —”

“Ha! Not sure you can call yourself a ‘man’ if you’re voice is still cracking, squirt.”

“I literally hate you. Not joking.”

“Uh-huh. Okay.” Percy raises an eyebrow. “Well, since my guts are already spilled out and flopping all over the floor —”

“Disgusting.”

“—so it’s your turn, now.” He pokes Nico’s bicep. Nico bats him away, rolling off the bed and hitting the floor, scooting over to put more space between them. Thankfully, Percy doesn’t follow, and he exhales, settling his back against the bed frame. The mattress springs creak again as he readjusts. “You can tell me, you know.” Nico can hear the smile in his voice at the cheeky repitition. “I won’t — tell anyone. Or anything. Ahem.”

“You’re so annoying.” Nico picks at a loose thread in the knees of his pants, looping it around his finger.

Will thinks ripped jeans are stupid. He hadn’t said so outright, when Nico came back from his Aphrodite-Cabin-enforced shopping trip, but Nico had noticed his pursed lips and deliberately schooled face. When he’d pressed about it, pestering him until he’d given up with the very southern passive aggressive if you like, Nico, I love, don’t you worry about it answer, he’d gotten a forty minute rant about jeans that “sold less jean for more fuckin’ money” that made him laugh until he cried.

He yanks the thread and pulls. The hole widens.

“Oh my gods, you’re actually whipped. Is that what this is?”

Nico flushes. “Shut up.”

“It is!” Percy grins widely, wicked delight in his eyes. “You are literally thinking about him right now! You might as well be kicking your feet! You —”

“Shut up, Percy, gods.”

“I’ve never seen you so red,” he says instead, because he is incapable of following instructions. His smile fades, face softening into something more pensive. “You must really like him.”

Nico shrugs. Is that what he feels for Will? Gorgeous. I’ve been crushing on you forever. He likes a lot of people. You always know just what I need. A lot of people aren’t Will.

“He’s not scared of me.” No matter how much he fiddles with it, the metal of his ring is always cold. Cold hands, he supposes. He never heats up much. “Or. intimated. Creeped out. He thinks I’m —”

He clamps his mouth shut. A bubble of something expands in his chest, growing out of his lungs, past his shoulders, pushing his throat closed. He swallows, hard, trying to shove it back, but — Nico! Hey! You think I couldn’t stand to see a friendly face? No way, Death Boy, no more Underworld-y magic for you! I can literally feel you fading! My hands are still shaking — here, feel.

“Gorgeous?” The smile on Percy’s face is teasing, but much softer than before. “I heard he — said.”

Maybe it’s the redness of Percy’s nose that hasn’t quite faded, or his still-puffy eyes, but finally the bubble pops, and Nico sighs, tipping his head back until it rests on the edge of the bed. He closes his eyes. After a beat of hesitation, callused fingers brush through his hair, ruffling it, lingering awkwardly before pulling away. He smiles.

“Yes.”

“…Really? He just up and told you, that he had a —”

Percy stumbles on the words. Nico peeks one eye open and grinning wryly. “Yeah. He’s a hell of a lot braver than I am. Or maybe he’s just shameless.”

“He was always really intense about being your friend.” Percy screws up his face, tilting his head as if envisioning it. “I didn’t understand what that meant, at first. I didn’t get…the reason? Behind it? If that makes sense.”

“You forgot about gay people,” Nico says drily. “I know.”

“This is true,” Percy admits. He grins, sheepish. “That’s an L on my part. Every time me and Annabeth went looking for you he’d somehow know about it and ask us a bajillion questions when we got back. I just thought he was really into necromancy, or something, but now it’s like…damn.”

Nico covers his eyes with his hand, fighting back an embarrassed smile. He thinks your eyes are a tie between moonstone and agate, in case you were wondering. There is literally not a single soul in this camp unaware about how much he likes you.

“You’d think it would be easier to get him to go out with me, then.”

“It hasn’t been?”

Nico throws his hands up. “No! He doesn’t — I got him flowers, Percy, and he ground them up to make a poultice. He thought the rock I got him was a bribe. I open every door for him and I always pull out a chair for him at counsellor meetings. I make sure to stand up first when we’re sitting together and offer him a hand. I don’t know what else I can — do, gods.” He makes a noise of frustration, glaring at the ceiling. “I’m being as obvious as I can be. What am I gonna have to do to get him to realise? Fuckin’ — tattoo his name on my forehead?”

Percy slides his hand into his pocket, pulling out his pen. He twists it around his fingers, fiddling with the cap, picking at the plastic casing. He uses the end of it to trace mindless swirls on his thigh, which Nico can’t help but feel is dangerous. One wrong move and he better hope Nico can drag him to the fountain fast enough to stabilize him. But his eyes are far away, teeth gnawing on the inside of his cheek.

“There is a chance,” he says slowly, “that he…knows.”

Nico frowns, turning to face him properly. He looks resolutely at his lap. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I — well.” He does finally uncap his blade, staring at the soft glow of the bronze, rubbing his thumbnail over the leather handle. “I. Knew,” he says haltingly. “That Annabeth liked me. I —”

Nico watches him carefully. This is…news, to him. He didn’t keep up much on camp drama about the two of them — for obvious reasons — but he hardly had to. Even during his brief, one or two day stops at Camp, Percy and Annabeth gossip was impossible to avoid. People talked about them constantly, about how much they obviously cared for each other, how oblivious, especially, Percy was. It used to give him a twisted sort of hope.

“You…knew? And you didn’t do anything?”

Percy winces. “She got frustrated with hiding it. She kissed me, once, before I blew up St. Helens. And I just —” He shrugs. “I couldn’t believe that someone like her would want anything to do with someone like me.”

It’s impossible to miss his meaning, to miss the self-directed bitterness at the end of his words. Nico recognises it because he practically invented it. Someone like me. Someone disgusting, ugly, unworthy. Someone bitter and twisted and wrong. Someone so undeserving.

“I think Will is like me,” Percy continues softly. “That — insecurity.” He says the word quickly, like he might be able to hide it in the rest of the sentence. “I think he thinks very highly of you. And I think it’s hard for him to believe that you want to — to lower yourself, to be with him.”

“That’s inane,” Nico argues. “He’s — bright and kind and smart and — he’s fucking everything, what is he —!”

“He grew up a healer in a camp full of warriors. Full of talented people,” Percy murmurs. “When you’re surrounded by people who know what they’re doing, it’s easy to feel like a loser.”

Nico opens his mouth, closing it again. On principle he doesn’t agree with Percy. It doesn’t make sense. Every single person at this camp has relied on Will in more than one way for as long as he’s been here — as long as he’s been healing them. How could he not know what his purpose is? How could he not realise his talents?

Ace bandage, sound and unwound. Hard blue eyes, self-directed sneer. I’m just a healer.

“He’s not a loser,” Nico says eventually. “I don’t think he’s a — loser.”

Nico thinks he’s quite a bit more than that, actually. In fact if all words in the any language he knows, ‘loser’ is probably the least apt to describe him.

“How do I make him realise? Make him —”

Percy shrugs. “Took Annabeth several years and I still think I’m — well. I still struggle. You’ll have to be patient.” He glances over, and that mischevious smile is back on his face, the one that promises trouble and guarantees Nico an excuse to kick him. “Or, you know, you could just tell him that you think he’s bright, and kind, and smart, and beautiful, and —”

Nico does indeed kick him. He falls back against his pillow, laughing, curled against his side.

“I did not — I did not say beautiful,” Nico says hotly, “that was not on the list, you total jackass —”

Percy only laughs harder, no matter how many times Nico kicks him.

———

next

[queruloustea]

i have returned with some baby (?) quirrel shenanigans because he makes me happy and i enjoy drawing him all speckly

[sunnysideray]

Before Jack came along, sunshine wasn’t quite alright…

(he definitely changed him for the better, just look at him :1 stinky doodoo head fr)

(((Ray-my stinky doodoo head insert-is actually certified crazy in this lmao)))

Also, sorry if the panels are confusing. I was straight up making it as I came up with the comic, so whoopsies. My bad :( (the next page is in traditional comic format, dw!)

Part 1 || Part 2 || Revelations

Other Versions Below! Just showcase funsies :)

Flat Colour Ver; - You can see Ray’s gradually fading hair dye now :D

Flat Colours + Screens/Effects; - Neato effect stuff I did with TVs, it was fun to mess around with colours and layers on Ibis lol

And finally a Transparent Ver cuz idk; - wahoo transparency or something 🎉

~~ Anyways ~~ that was actually really fun to make. I got to improve my comic skills (a bonus, always need that 😓), slap colours around (always fun), and got to improve my Jack design more! I basically figured out his face shape + facial features lol. POST NOTE: I FORGOR TO SHADE THE DESK NOOOOO whatever ig *:’(*

Tis merely Part 1 of a fun little series - ‘VHS Meetings - Sides’, where I’ll do more pages of this comic and maybe do one with Jill. Or something.

More art is on the way though! Doodles, full art, etc., is all on track and will be posted here as soon as I get done with it haha. (Hint for the (most likely) next art post: Perfect Human Specimen - Lynks, banger song and suure reminds me of someone….)

[you-are-constance]

one of my favorite things about a lot of different musicals is when they have their opening number reprised in their finale, the same melody and lyrics having an entirely new meaning to them thanks to the context of the rest of the show.

and obviously there are a Ton of examples (Wicked, Come From Away, The Outsiders, SpongeBob... i know there are others i can't think of them), but there are two specific shows that I genuinely think are examples of the absolute best use of this.

to me, those two examples are Cabaret and The Great Gatsby.

like the other examples listed, each time this sort of thing happens, there is new meaning given to the same song thanks to the rest of the show happening in between, but both Cabaret and Great Gatsby have it in like... a very chilling way.

In Willkommen and Roaring On, these are both somewhat upbeat songs, introducing the club, the parties, the energy that the audience is Supposed to feel at this point. nothing else matters in the world, only the thrill of endless entertainment.

but this isn't what these shows are about. there are much darker stories going on underneath, and by the time we get to the finale, the audience is changed along with the characters - but the song is the same. Nothing else Matters. only the thrill of Endless Entertainment. We have No Troubles Here.

but another thing that i find so musically fascinating is that it's not just the audience's perception of the song that changes, no the music itself helps to drive the audience to those realizations. at the orchestra's break in Willlkommen (finale), it begins very similar to the opener, but gradually adds more and more dissonance, making it harder and harder to even bear listening to. In Roaring On (finale), the ensemble lines are just slightly more staccato, slightly more dissonance, slightly more unnerving to listen to.

it's just so fascinating to watch a musical, and have the same song mean something so incredibly different, just because of the context it exists within, and very slight musical changes.

[mamawasatesttube]

another addition to the list of fics i would love to see but dont really want to write: timkon "one of them has a crush on the other's secret civilian id without knowing it's them" but it's tim hopelessly pining for conner kent. he has no idea the supers have secret identities at all, let alone who they might be. conner kent is just a normal farmboy (who he happened to meet via convenient circumstances). just a normal kid who lives on a farm with his sweet old country (grand)parents and his rambunctious dog. just a normal guy! ...right?

[fandomfloozy]

Classical Conditioning

Pairing: Kento Nanami x clingy!reader

C/W: reader's love language is physical touch, petnames (kento refers to reader as love, sweetheart, darling), sorcerer instructor!reader (students refer to reader as sensei), gn!reader, slightly nsfw, mdni

wc: 6.5k

~°•*~

You're on the way home from a particularly grueling training session with the second years. Your muscles burn, your limbs feel heavy, and you want nothing more than to treat yourself to a sweet dessert and head home.

Home to bed, home to sleep, home to Kento...

You weakly push open the door of the nearest cafe you could find and head in. No sooner does the entry bell chime that the exhaustion of the day dissipates from your aching body. From one moment to the next, you've gone from zombie walk to barely containing your excitement as you spot an unmistakably familiar head of blond hair.

You don't even hear the cashier greet you as you're halfway across the room, your feet moving on their own volition. The closer you get, the wider the stupid grin on your face grows until you've practically jumped your fiancée from behind, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your cheek against his.

"Kento!" You're nuzzling into him with your eyes closed, feeling yourself recharge to practically full capacity.

He doesn't seem the least bit startled or surprised to see you as he reaches a hand up to place on your arms. He moves his face away to get a good look at you. "Hi, sweetheart." He rubs his thumb on your forearm. "We were just talking about you."

In your haste, you failed to notice Takuma Ino sitting across from your lover.

You breathe out an awkward chortle, slinking your arms away from Kento and rounding his chair to pull out the one next to him. "All good things, I hope?" You slide a hand down his arm as you take a seat.

"Nothing but, sensei!"

"You're not one of my students, Takuma-kun." You give a semi-exasperated smile as you reach down the table to grab Kento's hand. "I already told you; you don't need to call me that."

Kento glances your way. "We were actually talking about potentially having him shadow you on one of your next missions." He gives a squeeze at your locked hands at the suggestion. "Have you give him a few pointers, show him how you do things."

"Oh!" You look over at Takuma. "I'm not sure what I could teach you that you don't know, you're plenty capable already!"

"But you're a first grade, sensei! I could pick up a lot from watching you work."

"You're pushing first grade yourself!" You argue.

"And you're pushing semi-special grade, darling," Kento chides, coolly sipping at his drink. "Don't sell yourself too short."

You frown. If you sold yourself too short, Kento upsold you too much.

Leaning your head on his shoulder, you let out a hum as you think. "Well..."

You look up and Takuma is giving you the closest thing a young man his age can get to puppy eyes. And it's working.

You fiddle with Kento's fingers. "I trust you're capable enough not to slow me down..." Takuma visibly starts to brighten. "So I suppose it couldn't hurt to have you come on a mission and shadow me--"

"Yes!" Takuma pumps a fist and grabs your free hand to shake in earnest. "I won't slow you down at all, sensei! Promise!"

You giggle as he continues to shake. "There's no doubt in my mind."

Kento chuckles a bit and moves to stand up. "Now that that's squared away, why don't I get you something to eat?"

"Oh! Yes, please." You remember that the sweet treat you came for remains unordered. You lean away to let Kento stand. "You remember my order?"

"You need to ask?" He smiles and starts making his way towards the register. You hold his hand and then his fingers to the last moment as they slip away from you. You then watch him with your chin leaned into your hand and a dopey smile on your face as you watch him tell the cashier your order and pull out his wallet.

"Your two's relationship is so wild to me." Takuma's voice breaks you out of your lovelorn trance. You clear your throat.

"I guess it is atypical," you hum.

Romantic relationships in the jujutsu world, especially between jujutsu sorcerers, are few and far between. Not many sorcerers become old enough or secure enough to explore those kinds of relationships, let alone get to the point of planning to marry. You and Kento are lucky...

"Especially because you two are such an unlikely pair."

You hum in response again, before what he said kicks in. "Wait, what?"

Takuma responds casually while taking bites of his pastry. "Well, you know. Sensei and Nanami-san are so different. Don't get me wrong, he's a great man, but he's kind of a square."

You snort, recalling your jujutsu tech days with Kento. "He's always been a little standoffish. Been that way since we were students."

"It's just crazy. You're so bubbly and nice, and he's so..." He gestures vaguely. "I guess what they say is true: opposites attract."

"Well..." You fidget. "He is a little more reserved than I am, I suppose."

He takes in another fork full of his food. "I don't think I've ever even seen him hold your hand first."

That leaves you speechless.

Was that true? Has he never held your hand without you reaching out to grab his first? You've never thought about it before.

No, surely, it's just in public. Takuma has never seen Kento initiate because you're in public. Kento doesn't mind PDA, but you're just more prone to initiate in a public setting. Surely that's what he means.

Surely.

The weight of the day is suddenly returning to your body all at once.

Kento returns with your order, hand on the back of the chair. "Don't worry about the bill, it's covered." Takuma cheers to himself. Kento turns to face you. "Ready to head home? You look exhausted."

You nod and let out a little, "Mhm." You reach out a hand and Kento helps you up. Huh...

Initiated.

"We're heading out now. I'll see you tomorrow, Ino-kun."

"See you, Nanami-san. Sensei."

You offer a wave and lean into Kento's arm as you walk out of the cafe.

Initiated...

The ride home is quiet. You're on the verge of nodding off in the backseat as the driver takes you and Kento home. He holds onto your treat from the cafe, your craving now forgotten. Your hands are folded in your lap as you try to stay awake.

It's private enough in the car. Surely, he'll at least try to hold your hand...

You want him to hold your hand. Your thigh, your shoulders, your waist... Anything, really. But he could at least hold your hand.

Please, hold my hand...

The car coming to a stop wakes you. Your head lay in Kento's lap as he gently pets your head.

"We've arrived," the driver announces.

"Let's get you to the shower and then you can sleep all you want, alright?" Kento whispers as he tenderly lifts you from his lap and into a sitting position.

Falling asleep on him like that in front of the driver. You really forced his hand there. He had to hold you in his lap. He had no choice.

Initiated.

Arriving home is a bit relieving, though. It didn't get more private than that. More comfortable.

You were showering. He was undressing and going about his nightly routine. It didn't get more intimate than that.

So by the time you stepped out of the shower, water dripping off your form, you expected something--anything--as you creeped up behind him. Dressed in pajama pants and slippers, brushing his teeth in the mirror, he saw your naked form in his peripheral.

He smirked and spat out the toothpaste. "All done, beautiful?"

You nodded meekly, holding your arm behind your back. He turned to face you and you looked at him, alternating between looking at each eye.

Surely, he'd initiate. Nothing was stopping him. You'd initiated all day; it was his turn. Surely...

He reached out to you, and you waited with bated breath...

...as he reached behind you, grabbing the towel to place over your head and dry you off. He smiled softly. "Go put on some pajamas. I'll join you in bed soon."

He then wrapped the towel around your shoulders and turned to finish washing his face. You stood, dumbfounded for a moment, before scuttling to grab clothes to sleep in.

Maybe he just isn't in the mood tonight.

T-shirt.

I mean, you don't have sex every night.

Underwear.

But even when you do... does he initiate? You suddenly can't recall.

Something you do every night, though, is hold each other. That's a given. Cuddling is essential. It's how you get to sleep: relying on Kento's warmth to lull you into a sense of security and comfort.

You rush to the bed and under the covers. You wait.

Kento emerges from the bathroom, turning off lights on the way to you. Your anticipation is almost palpable at this point.

He situates himself in bed, sat up and looking down at you. "Long day, love?"

The top half of your face is peeking out from under the covers as you nod. "Very," you remark with a bit of a whine. "Glad to finally be home with you, Ken." You reach out to him instinctively then think better of it and stop short, your hand flopping on the bed with a thud.

You both look down at it for a beat.

He laughs. "Me too." He picks up your hand from the space between you and presses his lips to it, holding back a chuckle. "Sleep well. We've got an early start tomorrow."

He then drops your hand to turn off the bedside lamp. The darkness somehow makes the room feel significantly colder.

Kento shimmies down into the covers, lays down face-up, and closes his eyes. "Good night, love."

"Night, Ken," you whisper.

You close your eyes as you replay the exchange in your head.

Initiated.

~°•*~

You wake the next morning curled up by Kento's side. Through the course of the night, it seems like you ended up drifting closer to him. Your head is on his chest, your legs tangled up with his.

His form is the same as he fell asleep in. Supine. Completely relaxed.

You sigh. You tried to give him a wide berth last night and still ended up encroaching on his space.

You carefully untangle yourself from him. His alarm hasn't gone off yet and you don't want to wake him. Once out of bed, you pad down the hall and to the kitchen. With the extra time, you decide you might as well get some breakfast ready.

In the silence while you're cooking, however, you can't help the doubts that start creeping up in your mind... You probably make him uncomfortable with your constant need to be touching him in some way, shape, or form. You know physical touch isn't his love language, and yet you pester him constantly anyway, even in public. He didn't so much as touch you last night without you practically begging for him to. He probably only reciprocates out of obligation.

Maybe you should tone it down today.

You hear the rushing stream of water from down the hall as you finish plating the food. Seems like you have time to pack your lunches for the day as well.

As soon as that's done, you pick at your breakfast a bit. The pit of insecurity in your stomach is having adverse effects on your appetite. You sigh heavily to yourself and figure you should at the very least have a coffee.

You prep one for yourself and one for Kento, and as if on cue, he emerges from the bedroom. His hair is glistening from the water and product still drying in it. He's got his dress shirt on with his tie hanging loosely around his neck. He looks absolutely heaven-sent.

"Ooh, thanks for breakfast, love." He smiles as he takes his seat at the table and you hand him his mug. Your fingers brush as he grabs it, and you yank your hand away a little too forcefully. Kento raises a quizzical brow at you. "Careful, I'm sure it's hot." He blows on it a bit before taking a sip.

You hide your hands behind your back to avoid potential slip-ups. You resigned yourself to no touching him unprompted today. You were going to stick to it.

"How did you sleep? I missed you when I woke up this morning."

"Slept fine." You grab your own mug to give your hands something to do. "Just woke up a bit early. Lunch is packed and everything."

"Oh, wow. That's quite proactive of you," he teases. Oh, you wanna kiss him. He digs into his plate and gives a nod to yours. "Aren't you having breakfast?"

You shake your head. He scrunches his brows and his eyes soften. God, you want to rub at the lines between his brows. "I should actually start getting dressed, if anything. I'll go do that now."

You set down your mug on the counter and make a beeline to your bedroom. This is harder than you thought. He's irresistible. How are you meant to make it through the day?

Ugh, but this is for his sake. You don't want to make him uncomfortable. Show restraint, you're an adult.

You get dressed, do your hair, brush your teeth, and take a look at the clock to make sure you're good on time before your driver arrives. Once you're sure you're presentable, you grab your things and start making your way to the front door to put on your shoes.

"Hey, sweetheart--"

You stop in your tracks and look over at Kento, who is standing by the coat rack, jacket in hand and a weird look on his face. His tie is still loose. That's unlike him.

He gives you a crooked smile. "You seem frazzled this morning. I'm sure you're in a rush, but do you mind helping me get my jacket on?"

You hesitate, then you walk over to him. You don't have to touch him while putting on his coat. This is fine. He's asking you to do this anyway. "I've got you, Ken." You take the jacket from his hands, and he turns around to give you full access.

Oh, his back looks so good under his dress shirt. One arm in. It'd be so easy to just run a hand over it and cop a feel... Other arm in. Has he always had such a biteable neck?

You don't get a chance to think about it before it's covered by the collar of his jacket. You clasp your hands together in front of you as he turns around.

"Thank you, darling."

He looks you in the eye and you can't help your gaze from drifting down to his lips. You should kiss him. You want to kiss him. But he isn't leaning in. He's not initiating. You shouldn't. But you can't help gravitating towards him when he looks at you like that with so much love in his eyes and--

You lean in and tighten his tie up to the collar of his shirt.

He looks down in surprise. "Oh! Heh, thank you again." He lets out a chuckle.

You smile. "Anytime." Success. You restrained yourself. That was a close one.

Your phone chimes and you look down. "My driver's here. I'm heading out now." You turn around and put on your shoes at the doorstep. You open the door and spare a glance back at Kento, who is still standing right where you left him. "I'll see you tonight. Have a good day. Love you!"

"Love you, too..." He trails and adjusts his tie with one hand while the other waves a goodbye.

You give him a quick wave back and close the door behind you.

Phew, this shouldn't be that hard.

~°•*~

It's really not.

That hard, that is.

You spent the car ride to the school congratulating yourself on a job well done, coasting off the high of a win. By the time you arrived in the classroom, the whole ordeal took a backseat in your mind. As it stands, Maki, Toge, and Panda are enough of a handful in their own right.

You enter and all of your students seem to be here, sans Yuta. You close the sliding door and smile before walking to the front. "Alright, be seated," you announce as you set your things down. "Pop quiz today, so notes away and pencils out, please."

Your students' audible groans fill the mostly empty room.

"That's too cruel, sensei," Panda whines.

"Mustard leaf."

"Yeah, you didn't even prepare us for this," Maki complains.

The chorus of complaints keep ringing out. You sigh at the lack of order. You're not exactly in the mood with only your morning coffee sitting in your stomach, but you can't exactly blame them when it's so early in the morning and it's the last day of the week. However, that doesn't stop you from taking a deep breath and bringing your hands together in a forceful clap.

The sound reverberates through the floorboards and up the walls. Your students freeze.

The juxtaposition of your gentle smile and the tilt of your head lend to the immediate quiet. "I thought I asked you all very nicely to put your notes away and take a pencil out. I must have imagined the idle chatter, hm?"

They all sit up straight, desks cleared, pencil in hand. "Yes, sensei!"

A handful indeed.

It's what you need today, though. While Kento's off working, you're busy with the second years. There's no temptation this way. Not seeing him for the better part of the day helps. The rapid pace of training and lessons keeps you distracted... for the most part.

That is until, without warning, he's walking onto the training field where you're leading your class through combat drills. He has one Yuuji Itadori in tow, skipping along beside him.

You're kind of geeking, but you try not to let it show. This is Round 2. Second test of the day. You're in public this time. Your students are around. You can hold back.

You greet him with a smile. "You're back early. How did it go?"

Kento rolls the shoulder on his dominant side out. "It went well, all things considered." He looks a bit disheveled.

"It was so cool!" Yuuji cuts in. "Nanamin's cursed technique is always amazing to watch!"

You feel a swell of pride at that. Kento is very talented, you're glad Yuuji gets to learn from him. "How did you do today, Yuu-kun?"

"I think I did really well--"

"His form is still sloppy. He needs to get a better grasp on real-time battle strategy." Now that he's closer to you, you notice Kento's hair seems out of sorts. You want to run your fingers through it and fix it a bit...

"I thought I did a lot better today," Yuuji pouts. He leans his head onto the front of your shoulder and whines lowly so only you can hear. "Nanamin's been kinda mean today, sensei."

You laugh and wrap one arm around Yuuji, using the other to rub at his hair comfortingly. "He really wants you to improve. I'm sure it's nothing personal, Yuu-kun," you coo.

"I'll watch your students for you." You don't get a good look at Kento's face as he is already briskly making his way to where your kids are training.

Now that you mention it, that was a bit snappy. You wonder if something happened to Kento while he was out today.

You hum. You release Yuuji from your hold. "Why don't you tell me more about how today went?"

"Well." Yuuji starts prattling on about how he met with Gojo this morning who then let him know Kento would be instructing him again today, so they headed off to meet him, and Kento had seemed out of it this morning to begin with. Anyway, they went to exorcise some curses, but Kento seemed to be a little more aggressive with them today than usual. He mentioned how Kento had scolded him sternly more than a few times while they were working, but once they finished Kento still seemed unsatisfied and kept grumbling about this and that, stuff Yuuji couldn't make out. "And once we were done, I asked Nanamin if we could eat something and he said okay, but he just wanted to stop by here first to 'Check on the state of the instruction you students are being provided.' Whatever that means."

Huh. You should've guessed Gojo was at the source of this. He was probably pestering Kento into this morning. On top of that, Kento seems to be dissatisfied with how Gojo is teaching the first years and came to analyze the situation.

No wonder he seems a bit touchy.

Oh, Yuuji is still speaking to you.

"Sounds like a lot." You nod along to whatever he started talking about next. "I'm sure you and Kento had a long morning, Yuu-kun. How's about you take him to find Gojo-san and the other first years, okay?" You start guiding Yuuji back across the field to Kento.

It gives you pause to find that your second years are out of breath and hands-on-knees by the time you get back. You couldn't have been talking with Yuuji for more than a few minutes, what happened in that time?

"Really putting them through their paces there, huh, Ken?" You breathe out a laugh nervously. Kento is kind of scary when Gojo gets him riled up.

"They can handle this much," is all Kento offers, standing cross-armed, facing you students.

You pause. Your brows scrunch together in worry. "Okay, guys. Water break! Be back here in five minutes."

Your students let out a sigh of relief as they stagger towards the sidelines for some reprieve. Yuuji trails a safe distance behind you as you round Kento to face him fully. You soften your eyes as you meet his own, shielded from you by his round goggle sunglasses.

"Are you alright?"

The scrunch in his brow relaxes a bit at your scrutiny. "Yes, darling, I'm fine--"

"Are you sure?" You press. You take him in a bit more. His stance is relaxing some more. "Your hair's all fussed," you tease with a snort.

He looks at you. You look at him. You're mirroring his arm-crossed stance. You don't move to fuss over him, especially if it'll just make him more uncomfortable in this state, but you expect him to at least run a hand through his hair himself.

"Are you sure you're alri--"

"Yes, everything's fine. Yuuji, let's head over the first year classroom." He's already leaving before you can protest.

"Aww, but I thought we were going to eat first." Yuuji jogs to catch up with Kento and the two talk back and forth until their chatter becomes too quiet for you to hear.

You're left kind of unnerved by how he left things. Kento isn't one to beat around the bush. He'll usually tell you what's making him upset without mincing his words, especially when it comes to venting about Gojo. This recent transgression must have bothered him something fierce.

"Lover's quarrel?" You hear Maki comment behind you. You turn and realize all of your students have gathered to watch you watch your fiancée and Yuuji walk away.

"Pfft, no. Nothing that dramatic." You wave off their concern, or lack thereof. They're fishing for gossip, and you know it.

"Seemed like something fishy was going on between you twooooo," Panda singsongs.

"Salmon."

"Hey, do you want to waste the last..." You check your watch. "Two minutes of your water break yapping? 'Cause you're going to need it for the next set."

"No, sensei!" They scatter off to finish drinking at their jugs.

"Mhm, that's what I thought," you declare to yourself.

You want to bask in this recent victory. You staved off another round of the grabby hands again, after all. But something about this win just doesn't sit right with you. You don't feel good as long as you know something is eating at Kento this much...

Hopefully he works out whatever he and Gojo have going on.

~°•*~

The rest of the day is a blur. Your students are eager to get a start on their weekend or on missions, so as soon as it's time to dismiss them, they are out the door.

No new assignments were offered to you as the day went on, and thankfully, it seems like there aren't any pressing matters for you to attend to with the higher ups. By all accounts, you're free, so you grab your things and make way out the door and to the campus gates.

You haven't had a proper meal all day, so you start contemplating what you could pick up on your way home. You had enough ingredients to make a big dinner tonight. Maybe a quick snack would be enough to stave off the hunger until then.

As you continue to ponder your options, who do you run into but Satoru Gojo himself.

He spots you before you can think of turning tail to avoid him.

"If it isn't my lovely coworker and counterpart!" He offers a childlike grin and waves as his lithe form approaches you. "How is the beloved second-year sensei today?"

"Just fine," you respond, walking past him without a second glance.

He doesn't miss a beat as he trails behind you and continues chatting. "Aww, c'mon. Give me more than that. I feel like I barely get to see you."

You sigh. "That's on purpose, Gojo-san."

He feigns offense, dramatically pressing a hand to his forehead. "You wound me. We've known each other for years. You can call me senpai when we're not around the students, or at the very least drop the honorifics."

"Would you rather I referred to you as 'hey, you,' or maybe as 'trash-kun'?" You tease. You didn't hate Gojo, per se. You just found him a mite unbearable sometimes.

"'Gojo-san' is fine, then..." He pouts. "You and Nanami are just the same." He brightens as he seems to remember something. "Speaking of! I got to speak to our resident ex-salaryman today! He was telling me all about how you--"

"How he thinks you're slacking on training the first years?" You interrupt.

"What? No! I'll have you know I am doing an amazing job, especially with Megumi and Yuuji. As a matter of fact, they're..."

You tune him out for the rest of the walk to the exit. The thought of Gojo defending himself in the face of a scolding Kento was amusing enough to get you through the rest of the walk out. At the gates, you find your driver waiting for you, the car idling and primed to take you far away from the school and this conversation.

"As much as I love our talks." You turn to look at Gojo with thinly veiled annoyance. "I should be getting home for the day, Gojo-san." Before you can reach for the door yourself, Gojo does it for you. He opens it widely and with a flourish, offering his hand to help you in.

"But of course, sorry to keep you. Get home safe. Get rested. I'm sure next week will be another doozy."

You accept his hand and roll your eyes half-heartedly as he goes on and on. You can't help the small smile on your face as you make your way into the car, though.

As soon as you're securely inside, Gojo peers in and looks you in the eye. "But if I could offer you a bit of advice, my dear kohai." His tone comes across a bit more serious. You attention falls securely on him at that. "I'd go about talking to our friend Nanami over... stimulus control."

Huh?

You give Gojo a look that you hope conveys your confusion, but any note of seriousness in his demeanor leaves him as fast as it came. He grins widely at you and closes the door before you have the chance to question him further. As soon as the door closes, the driver pulls off and Gojo becomes but a shrinking figure in the rear window.

Well, that was cryptic.

What the fuck did he mean "stimulus control"?

You don't think much of it after a while. Gojo is infamously too unserious for his own good. It would be a waste of brain power to read too much into what could very well just be him messing with you, so you don't. What you do continue pondering is what you could do for dinner.

By the time you get home, you've decided on snacking on yesterday's treat while cooking up a suitable feast to make up for missing breakfast. And to congratulate you on a job well done today.

You are in high spirits as you eat and cook at the same time. You could get used to this! Restraining yourself was far easier than you had anticipated. What had seemed like an impossible task this morning didn't seem so bad in hindsight. Maybe every day could be like this...

With no touching Kento at all...

And him not initiating any physical contact with you... at all.

This experience had really put Takuma's observation to the test, hadn't it? Kento really doesn't initiate physical affection with you at all, does he?

Your mood sours a bit.

But you attempt to pull yourself out of it just as quickly. He has other methods of showing he loves you. He shows you he loves you every day. Constant messages checking on how you're doing. Doing the chores whenever you're far too drained. Sitting down to watch your favorite show with you. Bringing back trinkets from missions outside the city that made him think of you. Not to mention that he says he loves you outright every day without fail.

Kento is an intensely loving man, and if you only had to sacrifice a bit of hugging and squeezing for his sake, that was completely fine with you. He just wasn't the type to receive love that way and that's okay.

That's fine.

There's a jingle of keys in the lock of the front door just as you're finishing up the last dish of tonight's spread. You turn off the stove and start transferring to a serving dish as Kento appears in view, dropping his briefcase and shedding his jacket at the front.

"Ken! You're home!" You turn to place the pot and spoon in your hands in the sink. "Dinner's just about ready, just gotta set the table and everything." You reach to grab a towel and wipe your hands as you turn around to face him. "Unless this is a have-dinner-standing-up-at-the-kitchen-island sort of da--"

Kento leaning on the kitchen island with a hand on his hip gives you pause. His head is hanging low as he reaches up to rub at the bridge of his nose.

You crane your neck to look him in the eye. "Long day?"

He sighs. "Like you wouldn't believe." He looks up at you, facing you head-on. An uncomfortable silence fills the space between you. He doesn't elaborate.

You scratch your head. "Well, at least dinner's ready!" You gesture to the courses for the meal. "One less thing to worry about."

"Mhm." He nods. You're not sure with the tinted lenses, but it almost seems like Kento is looking at you... expectantly? You don't know what to say. The silence stretches on. You twist at the towel in your hands.

You tilt your head and press your lips in a thin line. "You seem stressed."

He surprises you by letting out a dry chuckle and turning away. He takes off his goggles and places them on the counter. He runs a hand down his face as he leans on the other.

"Kento..." You approach him cautiously. You're not sure what to do. Usually you'd rub at his back, but you're not sure that's the right thing to do here. "If this is about the Gojo thing--"

"Gojo?" You're taken aback as he stands at full height and throws his hands up. He starts pacing and grumbles to himself, "Of all the things... Had to sit there and talk to Gojo about this, of all the people..."

"Are you alright?"

"Are you alright??" He turns quickly and faces you.

The outburst has you dropping the towel and bumping into the sink. You didn't realize you'd stepped back so far. Kento's right there with you, though. There's nowhere else to go and nothing else to do for him but to press a hand on either side of you, caging you in.

"Have I done something to upset you?" His bare eyes look into yours solemnly, almost pained.

You alternate between looking at both of his eyes for a moment. In your surprise at the seriousness of this exchange, laughter is suddenly bubbling up in your chest and bursts out before you can stop it. "What? Haha!"

Your fit of giggles seems to take Kento aback. He blinks. "Darling, I'm serious."

You try to stifle your laughter with the back of your hand. "Ken, honey, what do you mean?" You shake your head. "You haven't done anything to upset me. What made you think that?"

The warmth of a gentle hand on your cheek shocks you out of the hilarity of the moment.

Initiated.

Kento doesn't give you any choice but to look him in the eye. "I had to pull you in so you'd sleep in my arms last night." He emphasizes his words with a stroke of his thumb on the apple of your cheek. "I woke up without you this morning. You left today without a send-off kiss. God, I stopped by while you worked and didn't even fix my own appearance for the chance that you'd run your hands through my hair." Kento grows progressively more distressed as he speaks. You're speechless. "You haven't so much as brushed a hand against me all day. Have I done something that made you... uncomfortable with me?"

"Oh..." In the blink of an eye, all of the restraint you'd brute force trained into your disposition today is thrown out the window. "Oh, Kento." You reach up to place both hands on either side of his face. "You could never make me feel uncomfortable with you." You reach around his neck and squeeze him into you, rubbing your head into his cheek comfortingly. "The whole reason I pulled back today was because I thought I was making you uncomfortable."

"What?" He pulls away to look at you, placing his hands squarely on your shoulders, not moving them away. "What could possibly make you think that you make me uncomfortable?"

"Well..." You look down at your hands as they fiddle with his tie and dress shirt. "You have to admit the way I'm constantly touching and hugging and kissing you is a bit excessive, no?"

"No, actually. I don't have to admit that because it's not true. Look at me."

You peer at him through your eyelashes.

"Sweetheart, what made you feel this way?"

You glance away.

"Love, look at me."

You do. He's making full eye contact with you. Patiently waiting.

"Someone might have..." You trail off a bit. "Offhandedly pointed out...." Man, this is hard to admit now. "That you never hold my hand first?"

Kento blinks. Then blinks a few more times. "Surely, that's not true. Who told you that?"

"That's beside the point," you blurt. "The important thing is that that's what this whole thing was. Me making an effort to not touch you as much, only if you initiated first. And then it sort of turned out to also be a ploy to see if you'd even initiate at all... Which you didn't..."

Kento looks appalled.

"I just got really in my head about it!" You ramble on. "And then a little insecure. And then I was really just doing this all for your sake because I sort of got it in my head that you didn't like PDA--or physical affection in general--at all, because you never initiate any of it! And then I thought that maybe I was being too much and--"

In your panic, you failed to notice Kento slinking his hands down to your hips, towards the hem of your shirt. The feeling of the pads of his fingers on the bare skin of your stomach makes you jump a bit. "How could you ever think you're too much..." His palms are warm as they join his fingertips. He's moved his head to lean beside yours and speaks lowly into the shell of your ear. His hands start wandering farther up to your bare waist. Unfettered. "When I can't get enough of you?"

You squirm in his grasp. "Kento..." you breathe. You're not used to him taking initiative like this.

"I'm sorry I got so used to receiving your affection without any effort on my part." He glides his nose from your ear down your neck. "I got so used to having your hands on me without trying-" He presses a kiss at your pulse point. You gasp. "That I made a real ass of myself as soon as you took that away." One of his hands moves from your waist to your bare spine. It makes you shiver and arch forward. "I took you for granted and for that I apologize."

Your breathing is picking up. "It's okay, Ken," you say unevenly.

Kento shakes his head. "No, it's not." He pulls back just enough so that he's practically nose to nose with you. "I love you very much. Let me be sorry." He presses his forehead to yours, eyes closed.

You nod against him. "Okay."

"Surely," he continues. "I have to show you just how sorry I am." The sideways smile he gives you carries mischief. Your eyes widen before he leans down. You let out a yelp as he lifts you off the ground and onto the counter.

He sits between your legs, and you hold him by the neck as you try to keep your breath even. "The food'll get cold."

"You'll hear no complaints from me."

You giggle as he leans on one of his hands to smash his lips into yours and uses the other to start loosening his tie.

This is so unlike him, and you can't help thinking that you should deprive him of your touch more often just to illicit this response.

Somehow that reminds you of a certain someone's advice and you end up smiling deeper into the kiss.

"What?" Kento's laugh mixes with yours in the space between you.

You snort at the thought. "I can't believe I Pavlov'd you into expecting hugs and kisses from me."

"Oh, sweetheart." He leans down and gives your neck a playful nip. "You're one bell I'll just about always salivate for."

That makes you snicker and shriek even more as Kento continues trailing kisses down your neck and squeezing and touching wherever his hands can find purchase.

Dork.

For a love language Kento didn't start off with when you met him, physical touch sure seems to be something he can't go without. And that's all your influence.

You guess what they say is true, to be loved is to be changed.

~°•*~

divider via cafekitsune

gif via darkbluepassion01

[justaz]

semi-dark king merlin au, someone from ealdor tells king cenred about merlin and he is captured and held as a slave in essetir. since merlin despises captivity and servitude, he’d rather be dead and free than alive and in chains so he acts out and pisses people (especially the king) off so they’ll think him too much trouble and kill him. at first they stick to beatings until merlin manages to get his chains around a few necks and now has a body count so they kill him…..only he wakes back up a few hours later and king cenred is Intrigued and keeps him close. merlin keeps acting out but no matter how many times they kill him, he won’t stay dead. merlin has this moment after waking up perfectly fine after his twenty seventh death where he is hopeless and believes there to be no escape, not even thru death. a few other sorcerers in chains come and help him clean up and give him a lil peptalk, realizing him to be emrys, and then they revolt and take over the kingdom and crown merlin as king and now uther is like “wtf” bc his neighboring kingdom who was kinda sorta on his wavelength about sorcery, though uther did not approve of keeping them alive, is now a kingdom ruled by magic. he goes to war with them but with magic running free and fucking emrys on the throne, they don’t make a lot of headway. anyways merthur meet on the battlefield, enemies to lovers, you get it

[dapper-lil-arts]

Working on a multiverse thing, thought I might as well show some of the arts for it. Across the Shimmerverse

[shitouttabuck]

don’t wanna let you love somebody else but me

buck/eddie | 14.7k | rated t

“Well, we’re doing a fancy dinner and mini golf and karaoke,” Buck says, “and those are kinda date activities anyway, right?” “Right,” Eddie says slowly. “Except it’s Chim’s bachelor party, so we can hardly bring dates along, even if we could find them. That’d be weird.” “Well,” Buck says, “I was thinking… what if we were each other’s dates?” Eddie’s brain bluescreens for a moment. Buck must take his total lack of reaction for disagreement, because he hurriedly says, “Like, a pretend date. That way we could test out our, like you said, moves on each other. And then be totally truthful about whether they worked or not. So we get honest feedback and we don’t have to worry about finding someone to try them out on and we can still make it to Chim’s party. And then give Chris some advice before Sunday. Right? Does that make sense?”

or, chris wants dating advice and it turns out taking your best friend on a pretend date to practice being as romantic as possible is not a good idea in theory or in practice, considering the pesky being-in-unrequited-love of it all

read on ao3

[autistic-beshelar]

4 hours into essek supercut and chill and i am on my disabled essek bullshit

critical role wiki: elves do not require sleep, nor can magic put them to sleep

essek: is visibly affected by a sleep spell, explicitly tells jester he's trying to sleep when she wakes him up at 2am to ask for pastries

[willowser]

touya + eggplant ; 3.2k ੈ‧₊˚ for our meet fruit collab ! ‧₊˚✧ ₊˚

touya's message comes across in the early afternoon, when you know he should be working.

the image that comes to mind is — hilariously sweet: him in ill-fitting trousers and freshly combed hair, leaning too far into some desk as he fiddles with his phone. biting his lip, most likely, running the very tip of his tongue across the hole his piercing left behind; amused.

it'd be even better, you think, if he wasn't sending you three eggplant emojis and nothing else.

it's bold, and startlingly so. enough that your heart rate skyrockets and sweat forms instantly on the back of your neck, in the creases of your palms, as you overanalyze three cartoon vegetables harder than you ever have in your life. you could easily believe he's sending this as a drunken joke, but he's been stone-cold sober since he was released, and if that had changed, even in the slightest, yumi would have told you.

you type out four different variations of the same question — asking what the hell that's supposed to mean — before sending none of them. are you...being a weirdo? eggplant emojis are inherently sexual, right? and maybe touya's been away for a while, but surely he would know that. right? in a single, wordless text, he's managed to make you sixteen again; too young to be crushing on your best friend's older brother.

— though you think of him now as he was only days ago: eyes clear and focused, razor sharp and set on you from across the todoroki living room. the very memory makes your stomach churn, violently; just a kid that should be worrying about their studies, and not about a boy that wouldn't give you the time of day.

before your thoughts can get themselves any more scrambled, another text follows suit:

yumi wants to know if u wanna come for dinner

eggplant, you tell yourself, as in the actual food that people eat. the actual vegetable, and not the dickish inquiry you thought it was. you do your best to ignore the little wave of disappointment that washes over you, and then the following crash once you realize that you wouldn't actually mind if he was asking after what you thought he was asking after; you, carnally.

you collect yourself enough to send him a normal, not weird text in response confirming that you'll be there, and his thumbs up comes across almost instantly. as if he'd been waiting for you.

touya was always in and out of their house when you and fuyumi were in school, but you caught him every now and then when things were good. safe at home, doing his best to hold down a job and stay out of trouble, soaking up a warmth from his family he never got as a kid, when their dad was around. how couldn't you have developed such a crush on him? to see him happy and whole, more dangerous than anyone expected, mysterious in a way that excited your teen heart — and kissing up to his mother at the dinner table?

you're not delusional enough to think he ever noticed you or your big goo-goo eyes, but sometimes he would stick his head into his sister's room, to grin and wiggle his eyebrows at you, before getting pelted in the head with a stuffed animal and chased away. it earned a high-pitched laugh from him, more of a game than anything sincere, but you still thought of him while staring at the ceiling in your own bedroom, wishing.

in all the time he was away — in rehab or jail or who-knows-where — you thought you'd outgrown your juvenile infatuation, but — here you are, still, with fevered cheeks at the very thought of him.

here you are, still, taking care to choose your clothes for dinner, as if it were only going to be you and him. fussing with your hair for far too long, as if he would notice. making little crescents with your nails into your palm outside the door to the todoroki house, as if you haven't been here thousands of times.

you've seen him since he's been home, of course, in the last few months, but there's been this weird aura surrounding you both, worse than it was when you were younger. you're tip-toeing around each other and you both know you're tip-toeing, and he's always wearing his little smug smile and looking too long. it's hard to be around him, really. a little easier to text, but every winky face he sends only winds you up even further.

when the front door swings open, you hold your breath unintentionally, neck straining until you realize —

it's only shouto.

"hi!" you say, trying not to sound as winded as you feel, though shouto — as usual — is unimpressed.

he blinks at you, two-toned, and almost rolls his eyes like the rotten teenager he's capable of being, attitude too much like touya's. there's a little doughy dumpling in his hand and he turns away from you while using it to wave further into the house. "she's in the kitchen."

fuyumi, even though you didn't ask. you follow him in and stick your tongue out at the back of his head, before going off to find your best friend — who is, indeed, in the kitchen, surrounded by bowls and utensils and too many real, actual eggplants.

"what did you do?" you ask upon seeing her treasure trove of purple veggies on the counter. "rob a farmer?"

there's really an absurd amount of them, though she doesn't look up from cutting one into little rangiri pieces. "no, actually, they were on sale at the farmer's market!"

you eye one closest to you before poking at it, oblong in shape and — kind of ugly. it feels odd in your hand when you pick it up, but that's probably because you're hyper-aware of every sound in the background of the house, of the burning embarrassment tucked away in your pocket in the form of touya's three emojis. shamefully, your thoughts take a dark turn, and when fuyumi finally glances up, you toss the vegetable back onto the counter too fast.

she snorts and shakes her head, pushing up her glasses with the back of her hand before pointing at the little steamer basket of dumplings near the stove. "try one! before shouto and natsuo eat them all."

you consider it for a moment before weighing just how much eggplant it seems you're going to consume tonight, and decide to wait until after dinner, if they're still there. along with her veggies, she's got a little tub of red miso out and also some pork frying in a pan, as well as too many bowls in the sink already. though you admire her passion for cooking, you know she'll wait to clean until everything is plated, and no one else will help her, so you take to starting on the dishes instead.

the frown she sends you can be felt, but you've been in this kitchen long enough that you think she should just give it up.

there's such comfort to being in here, with her, maybe because you really have done it so many times by now; the water is warm as it runs over your hands, sending little goosebumps up your arms, and you nod your head absentmindedly to the sound of her knife against the cutting board. you absorb the heat from everywhere quickly, and when you begin to smell the garlic and ginger cooking, you feel like a warm, doughy little dumping yourself.

you get lost in it with her and all the tension from the day melts, dissolves completely when you can lightly hear fuyumi humming over her sizzling pan. she tells you about some other things she bought at the market, gossip about a mutual friend you both have, she asks about the shirt you're wearing and why she's never seen it before, and you're rinsing your hands of dish soap when you hear her squeal—

"ah! get out!"

when you peek over your shoulder, you can see touya there, leaning too far over her own, smiling with full cheeks as he investigates what she's cooking. half of a little dumpling is in his hand and he looks down at it, makes a face before turning it over, and then he places it right back in the steamer.

"ew, gross!" fuyumi nudges him away with her elbow before plucking it right back out, trying to hand it back off to him. "nobody wants your half-eaten food."

and then, much to your horror, right in front of his sister — touya's eyes cut across the kitchen to you. one corner of his mouth quirks up in his little smirk and then you're whipping back around to look down in the sink, despite it being empty. his stare can be felt, too. you wonder if it's a todoroki thing.

"ew," fuyumi mumbles. you feel like you've been caught in some kind of way, though you don't doubt she clocked your affections for her older brother the minute they developed.

it's not something she's ever spoken directly to you about, however, which you're grateful for. you don't know how you would be able to handle that discussion, but she's always made sure to pass off the odd and unprompted little updates about touya over the years.

when he speaks again, it's clear his mouth is full. "shouto said he's not settin' the table."

"okay, then you go do it."

"no," touya snorts, "he's the youngest, that ain't fair."

"and you're the oldest, so you can ask him to do it."

"he doesn't listen to me and you know—"

"alright!" fuyumi sighs, and when you peek back at them, she's shoving her knife into his hands and shaking her head to herself, before stalking out of the kitchen.

you unravel out of your little dumpling warmth immediately, though your goosebumps return in full force. touya grins at you, happily, and tosses the kitchen knife in his hands in a way that looks too proficient, too dangerous for what it is. your teen heart thumps loudly in your ears, charmed and enamored by his tragic mystery.

— and then you take in his still-pristine work outfit, openly, now that he's watching you; slacks a little slouchy on his narrow hips, white shirt buttoned up to his neck. the tattoo there is covered up by bandages on purpose, and though he means to simply hide them from view, it only sharpens all his edges.

the small pink, hello-kitty band-aid on his cheek helps, too, in a cutesy way. makes you all too aware of how much has changed over the years. how much he's changed, all the work he's had to do, the dues he's had to pay. your heart swell stubbornly, seriously, and you try to shake it away.

your voice starts out small, embarrassingly enough. "you look nice in your fancy office clothes."

touya's hand slip into his pocket and he rocks back and forth on his heels once, pleased, before looking down at his loose tie. "think so? you like a white-collar man?"

you look back to the sink, shy. it pulls him in; a moth to the flame of your hesitance, and it's not a moment later that he's leaning up against the counter beside you, watching your heated face carefully. the knife at his side gleams in the kitchen light and — you're not afraid of him, couldn't be, but you wonder if anyone else has ever been.

the truth of what landed him in trouble with the law is unknown to you, the one thing fuyumi never shared, and you can't help but to be curious as to why. you're practically family at this point and it's not as if you could ever look down on them, ever, and while you couldn't possibly understand the horror they went through with their father — you can sympathize with the fact that it wasn't easy. that he left scars they'll always nurse.

touya's always been so out of your reach, despite being just down the hall. blame it on time or the slight age difference or your relationship with his sister; it's hard to hope that he could be here, at your side, truly. finally.

instead of answering, you simply turn so that you're facing him, hip leaned against the counter, and the bright eyes he has on your cheeks are almost impossible to be at the mercy of. even worse when his smile grows, boyish-ly cute.

"what, coming on too strong?" he asks, laughing quietly when you put on a brave face and roll your eyes. "figured the emojis would'a opened the door a little."

your cheeks flame, and you press your hands into them to tide back your smile at how — flirty he is. the step back you take doesn't go unnoticed. "i couldn't even believe what i was seeing when you sent those."

"oh, yeah?" the tone of his voice changes then, shifts a bit lower. if you weren't tracking his eyes as they shift down to your mouth, burning a little brighter, you might've though you'd upset him or said the wrong thing. "what'd you think i meant?"

you glance away from him, directly at the ugly eggplant you'd been fiddling with earlier, and the dark thoughts return. when you don't answer right away, he reaches over to flip on the tap, running the knife blade underneath the stream as you map the wide expanse of his hands, the length of his fingers. small, translucent scars litter his knuckles.

"i don't know," you lie, and then it seems like you have said the wrong thing, this time; touya turns a little, placing all his attention in the dish soap and the sponge you'd left out to dry.

you are sixteen, speechless, nervous by his proximity—

"you seein' anyone right now?"

—but this is not the same boy that left you behind.

you have to laugh in order to keep yourself rooted to your spot, here on earth in the todoroki kitchen, and it brings his attention right back to you. "uh," you say, lamely, "what?"

it makes him laugh, too, all your sputtering. "yeah, c'mon. i mean, i know i'm fucked in the head, but," and then he really laughs, open-mouthed, showing off the piercing still in his tongue. "i'm workin' on it, and stuff. renewed and reformed, or whatever."

"hang on," you shake your head quickly, frowning at him as you replay the words over and over; his self-deprecation is so genuine that you almost missed it. "i don't think you're...fucked in the head."

"well, that makes one of us—"

"no, touya, i'm serious," the step closer you take has him looking away, down into the empty sink; hilariously, a mirror of yourself that you never could have imagined seeing. it does strange things to your heart, your stomach, and your nerves. makes you bolder than you really are. "i've never thought that."

he doesn't say anything for long time, choosing to watch droplets of water as they fall from the faucet. his jaw works in the silence, like he's chewing the inside skin of his cheek, like he's thinking too hard.

and then he says, quietly, "i know." he continues without looking at you, sensing the confusion on your face. "i know you never did, 's'why i couldn't..."

you blink, lost suddenly in the meaning of his words and their whirlwind. you think back to all the times he grinned at you from fuyumi's doorway, how uninterested he seemed in you from across the dinner table, his silence on the rare occasions you were alone together.

you've known touya since you were fourteen and he was fifteen. you remember when their parent's got divorced and when touya got his license and when he got locked up, the first time. you've known him through so many of his bad moments and it never dimmed the little stars you had in your eyes for him, and you once thought that was a bad thing, that it would only lead to heartbreak time and time again from him. you once thought it was something only you and fuyumi knew about.

"i am tryin' now," he continues with a sigh, a little winded. "seriously. got this shitty job and am goin' to my meetings. not as big of a piece of shit." when you start to object, he shakes his head and holds up a hand to stop you from arguing. "i know, i just mean...you wanna white-collar guy, i'm a white-collar guy."

you feel shy again, especially as the high points of his cheek flush pink. boyish-ly cute. "so that's why you sent me three eggplant emojis instead of just asking me to come eat dinner?"

touya snorts. "yeah, like i said, i'm workin' on it."

"no, i..." it feels wrong to admit anything to him like this, so close as his grin grows on his handsome face, dimples showing. you've been thinking about moments like this for years, but now that it's here, you feel a little dizzy, looking into his bright eyes. "i like the eggplant emoji." you step away from him for just a moment, to grab his half-eaten dumpling, and his expression grows serious — a little dark — as you nibble on it. "i like the way you...do things."

his smile grows knife-sharp, something he's too good at wielding. "well, in that case—"

"can i come in yet? our dinner is about to burn."

you both whip around to take in fuyumi, hovering at the edges of the kitchen with her arms crossed. watching on, her cheeks tinged pink, too. you try to step away, embarrassed and caught, but touya only leans in, knocking his hip to yours.

fuyumi rolls her eyes at him, but the small smile she sends you has you wanting to be swallowed up by the floor; this isn't a discussion you've ever had to have with her, but now — it's inevitable.

you suppose you can't complain too much.

"okay, you had your moment, now get out," she sticks her tongue out at touya before shooing him away, making a small noise when he pinches your elbow teasingly. it makes him laugh when she swats at him, and he only holds up his hands and tries to drop all his weight back on her as she steers him out of the kitchen.

you fish the knife out of the sink and return to cutting another eggplant once she's back and stirring in her leeks and little miso mixture. the moment is tense between you to begin with — but then she's humming quietly under her breath and knocking her hip into yours, too, tucking you back into the comfort of this house you've always been in. this family you've always loved.

"you know," she murmurs eventually, rolling her eyes with another smile when you glance up at her face. one of the eggplants is weighed in her hands, and even she frowns down at it, before shaking it at you in a way that makes you both laugh. "he made me buy these, by the way."

—tucking you back into the comfort of this family that has, maybe, always loved you, too.

[diazsdimples]

WIP Wednesday

Thank you to everyone who voted on my poll last week! I'm delighted to say that the Disaster Date fic (Buddietommy) won so I shall henceforth be progressing with that until it is completed! In honour of that, here's a snippet.

Tommy brushes a kiss over Eddie’s eyebrow as the lifeguards double check they’re in the right position. It’s a good thing Tommy’s EMT training is second nature to him now, because his body operates as if on autopilot as Alex braces Eddie’s neck while Richard keeps his hips in place, allowing Tommy to slide the board just under Eddie’s arm, and angle it up 90° from the ground. His brain, however, wants him to stop and protect Eddie from any more pain. To wrap himself around Eddie’s injured form and snarl at anyone that comes near them. “Ready?” Alex checks, glancing at Tommy, Richard, and then Eddie, who gives a listless thumbs up. “Okay, 3, 2, 1, roll!” Eddie lets out a guttural howl as his body is turned, first onto his side and then his back as Tommy presses the board against his spine. The sound rips into Tommy like a jagged blade, tearing at his heart and twisting in his gut. Tears prickle at the corner of his eyes, threatening to spill over, and Tommy blinks rapidly. “How you doing, baby?” he asks, hands pressed to either side of Eddie’s face. It’s sandy on one side, and a lone tear tracks down, forging a path through the stubborn grains. Tommy gently brushes Eddie’s cheek, removing the worst of the sand.

np tagging @theotherbuckley @hippolotamus @wikiangela @bigfootsmom @spotsandsocks

@thekristen999 @aroeddiediaz @bidisasterevankinard @bucksbignaturals @crashthatcopter

@bi-buckrights @tommykinard @monsterrae1 @dorkydiaz @actuallyitsellie

@perfectlysunny02 @screaming-universe @buffaluff @slightlyobsessedwitheverything @saybiwithme

@wolffnichols @eddiespornstache

and anyone else who wants to participate bc I always forget who likes this fic/ship lol

[velvetsqwyrme]

more cowboy content but sans this time